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 https://archive.org/details/worksofsirjoshua01reyn_0 
 
( 
 
THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Knt. 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 HIS DISCOURSES, IDLERS, 
 A JOURNEY TO FLANDERS AND HOLLAND, (NOW FIRST PUBLISHED,) 
 AND HIS COMMENTARY ON DU FRESNOY'S ART OF PAINTING; 
 
 PRINTED FROM HIS REVISED COPIES, 
 (WITH HIS LAST CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS,) 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR, 
 By EDMOND MALONE, Esq. 
 
 ONE OF HIS EXECUTORS. 
 — QUASI NON EA PR^CIPIAM ALUS, QVJE MIHI IPSI DESUNT. CICERO. 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, JUN. AND W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAICD. 
 
 M DCC XCVII. 
 
T O 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 The regular progress of cultivated life is 
 from necessaries to accommodations, from ac- 
 commodations to ornaments. By your illustri* 
 ous predecessors were established marts for manu- 
 factures, and colleges for science ; but for the arts 
 of elegance, those arts by which manufactures 
 are embellished, and science is refined, to found 
 an Academy was reserved for Your Majesty. 
 
 Had fuch patronage been without effect, there had 
 been reason to believe that Nature had, by some 
 insurmountable impediment, obstructed our profi* 
 ciency; but the annual improvement of the Exhi- 
 bitions which Your Majesty has been pleased to 
 
 Vol. I. a encourage, 
 
ii DEDICATION. 
 
 encourage, shews that only encouragement had 
 been wanting. 
 
 To give advice to those who are contending for 
 royal liberality, has been for some years the 
 duty of my station in the Academy ; and these 
 Discourses hope for Your Majesty's acceptance, as 
 well-intended endeavours to incite that emulation 
 which your notice has kindled, and direct those 
 studies which your bounty has rewarded. 
 
 May it pleafe Your Majesty, 
 Your Majesty's 
 Most dutiful servant, 
 
 and most faithful fubject, 
 
 [1778.3 
 
 Joshua Reynolds. 
 
[ iii ] 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Th E Author of the following admirable works, having, for 
 near half a century, been well known to almost every person in this 
 country who had any pretensions to taste or literature, to the pre- 
 sent age an account of him, however brief, may feem wholly un- 
 necessary jnor should the readerbe detained, even fora few minutes, 
 from the pleasure which awaits him, but that Posterity, while they 
 contemplate with delight and admiration those productions of his 
 pencil which place him on a level with Titian and Vandyck, will 
 naturally wish to know something of the man, as well as of the 
 painter, 
 
 Joshua Reynolds was born at Plympton in Devonshire, 
 July 1 6th, 1723; the son of Samuel Reynolds and Theophila 
 Potter. He was on every side connected with the Church, for 
 both his father and grandfather were in holy orders ; his mother 
 was the daughter of a clergyman, and his maternal grandmother 
 the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Baker, an eminent mathemati- 
 
 a 2 cian 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 cian in the lafl century, of whom we have an account in the 
 Biographi a Britannic a. His father's elder brother, John, 
 was alfo a clergyman, a fellow of Eton College, and Canon 
 of St. Peters, Exeter* 1 
 
 Mr. Samuel Reynolds taught the grammar-school of 
 Plympton, which could have afforded him but a moderate 
 subsistence; nor was he enabled by any ecclesiastical prefer- 
 ment to provide for his numerous family, amounting to eleven 
 children in all, of whom Joshua was the tenth. Five, how- 
 ever, of these children died in their infancy. — His father 
 had a notion,. * that it might at some future period of life be an 
 advantage to a child to bear an uncommon christian name, which 
 might recommend him to the attention and kindness of some person 
 bearing the same name, who, if he fhould happen to have no na- 
 tural object of his care, might be led even by so slight a circum- 
 stance to become a benefactor. Hence our author derived the 
 scriptural name of Joshua, which, though not very uncommon, 
 occurs less frequently than many others; of this baptismal name, 
 
 1 This gentleman, who died in 1758, left his library, and the greater part of his. 
 fortune, to Exeter College in Oxford. — There is a raezzotinto print of him, scraped 
 by M'Ardell, (from a portrait painted by his nephew) which has erroneously been 
 supposed to represent the father of the painter. See Bromley's Catalogue of En. 
 graved Britilh Portraits, 4to. 1792, p. 280. 
 
 4 From Dr. Percy, Lord Bishop of Diomorc. 
 
 however.* 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^ 
 
 however, the Register of Plympton by some negligence or inac- 
 curacy has deprived him. J 
 
 Under the tuition of Mr. Reynolds he was for fome time 
 instructed in the classicks ; but at an early age his inclination for 
 that art of which he afterwards became so illustrious a professor, 
 began to display itself ; and his early attempts * at delineation 
 were encouraged by his father, who was himself fond of drawings, 
 and had a small collection of anatomical and other prints. The 
 young artist's first essays were made in copying several little 
 things done by two of his sisters, who had likewise a turn for 
 the art; and he afterwards (as he himself informed me) eagerly 
 copied such prints as he met with among his father's books, 
 particularly those which were given in the translation of Plutarch's 
 Lives, publifhedbyDryden. But his principal fund of imitation 
 was Jacob Catt's book of Emblems, which his great grandmother 
 by the father's fide, a Dutch woman, had brought with her from 
 Holland. When he was but eight years old, he read with great avi- 
 
 In the Register of Plympton, by which it appears that he was baptized on the 
 3,0th of July, he is styled " Joseph, son of Samuel Reynolds, Clerk ;" probably in 
 consequence ot the entry not being made at the time ol the baptism. The name, 
 I suppose, was written originally on a slip of paper in an abbreviated form — " Jos. 
 son of Samuel Reynolds," — and was at a subsequent period entered erroneously by 
 the clergyman or clerk of the parish. 
 
 * Lady Inchiquin has one of these very early essays ; a perspective view of a 
 book-case, under which his father has written — " Done by Joshua out of pure 
 idleness." It is on the back of a Latin exercise. Joshua's idleness was, his pre- 
 ferring the employment of his pencil to that of the pen. 
 
 I dity 
 
vi SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 dity and pleasure The Jesuit's Perspective, a book 
 which happened tolieon the window-seat of his father's parlour; 
 and made himself so completely master of it, that he never after- 
 wards had occasion to study any other. treatise on that subject. 4 
 He then attempted to draw the School at Plympton, a building 
 elevated on stone pillars ; and he did it so well, that his father said, 
 " Now this exemplifies what the authorof the 'Perfpective' asserts 
 in his Preface, — that, by observingthe ruleslaiddown in his book, 
 a man may do wonders; for this is wonderful." 5 From these 
 attempts he proceeded to draw likenesses of the friends and rela- 
 tions of his family, with tolerable fuccess. But what most 
 strongly confirmed him in his love of the art, was Richardson's 
 Treatise on Painting; the perusal of which so delighted and 
 inflamed his mind, that RafFaelle appeared to him superior 
 to the moll: illustrious names of ancient or modern time; a no- 
 tion which he loved to indulge all the rest of his life. 
 
 His propensity fort his fascinating art growing daily more ma- 
 nifest, his father thought fit to gratify his inclination; and when 
 he was not much more than seventeen years of age, on Oct. the 
 1 8th, (St. Luke's day) 1740, he was placed as a pupil under 
 
 4 From himself in 1786. 
 
 5 From the late James Boswell, Esq. to whom this little circumstance was com- 
 municated by our author. 
 
 6 Mr. 
 
SIR JOSHUA' REYNOLDS. . vii 
 
 Mr. Hudson, 6 who, though but an ordinary painter, was the 
 most distinguished artist of that time. After spending a few 
 years in London, which he employed in acquiring the rudiments 
 of his art, on some disagreement with his master about a very 
 slight matter, he in 1743 removed to Devonshire, where, as he told 
 me, he passed about three years in company from whom little 
 improvement could be got : when he recollected this period of 
 his life, he always spoke of it as so much time thrown away, 
 (so far as related to a knowledge of the world and of mankind,) 
 of which he ever afterwards lamented the loss. However, 
 after some little dissipation, he sat down seriously to the study 
 and practice of his art; and he always considered the disagree- 
 ment which induced him to leave Mr. Hudson as a very for- 
 tunate circumstance, since by this means he was led to deviate 
 from the tameness and insipidity of his master, and to form a 
 manner of his own. 
 
 While in this career, the first of his performances 
 which brought him into any confiderable notice, was the 
 
 portrait, 
 
 6 Thomas Hudson, who was the scholar and son-in-law of Richardson the Painter 
 was born in 1701. " He enjoyed" (says LordOrford, Anecdotes of Painting, 
 iv. 122, 8vo.) "for many years the chief business of portrait-painting in the capital, 
 after the favourite artists, his master and Jervas, were gone off the stage ; though 
 Vanloo first, and Liotard afterwards, for a few years diverted the torrent of fashion 
 from the established professor. Still the country gentlemen were faithful to their 
 compatriot, and were content with his honest similitudes, and with the fair tied 
 
 wigs, 
 
viii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 portrait of Captain Hamilton, father of the present Mar- 
 quis of Abercorn, which he painted so early as in the year 
 1 746. 7 When at a late period of his life he saw this portrait, 
 he was surprised to find it so well done ; and comparing it with 
 his later works, with that modesty which always accompanies 
 genius, lamented that in fuch a series of years he should not 
 have made a greater progress in his art. 8 
 
 On Christmas-day, 1746, his father, a man highly respected 
 in his native county, died; and left our young painter to raise, 
 as he could, the fabrick of his own fortune. After spending a 
 
 few more years in the practice of painting, partly in London* 
 and partly in Devonshire, where many of his early essays yet 
 remain, he became acquainted with the late Lord Edgecumbe 
 
 ^vigs, blue velvet coats, and white satin waistcoats, which he bestowed liberally on 
 his customers, and which, with complacency, they beheld multiplied in Faber's 
 mezzotintos. The better taste introduced by Sir Joshua Reynolds, put an end to 
 Hudson's reign, who had the good sense to resign the throne soon after finishing 
 his capital work, the family-piece of Charles Duke of Marlborough." [About 1756.] 
 He died, Jan. 26, 1779, aged 78. 
 
 ? It is now in the possession of thcMarquis of Abercorn ; and there is a portrait 
 of the same gentleman with his children around him, a small family-piece, painted 
 about the same time, in the Collection of Lord Eliot, at Port Eliot in Cornwall. 
 
 *■ He made the same observation on viewing the picture of a Boy reading, which 
 lie also painted in 1746; an admirable piece, which was sold by auction among 
 other of his works in 1795, to Sir Henry Englefield, Bart, for thirty-five guineas. 
 
 9 At thisperiod he lived in St. Martin's Lane, which was then a favourite residence 
 of artists ; nearly opposite to May's Buildings. 
 
 and 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. is 
 
 and Captain (afterwards Lord) Keppel, by each of whom he* 
 was warmly patronised ; and the latter being ordered to cruise 
 in the Mediterranean, Mr. Reynolds embraced the opportunity 
 which his kindness offered, and accompanied him thither, sail- 
 ing from Plymouth, May nth, 1749. In the course of their 
 voyage, (during which he had accommodations in the Captain's 
 own ship,) they touched at Algiers, Gibraltar, Cadiz, Lisbon, 
 and Minorca; and after fpending about two months in Port- 
 mahon, the principal town of that island, in December he 
 sailed to Leghorn, from which place he proceeded to Rome. 
 
 Among our author's loose papers, I have found fome detached 
 and unconnected thoughts, written occasionally as hints for a 
 Discourse on a new and singular plan, which he appears, at a 
 late period of his life, to have had it in contemplation to compose 
 and deliver to the Academy, and- which he seems to have in- 
 tended as a hiftory of his mind, so far as concerned his art, and 
 of his progress, ftudies, and practise; together with a view of 
 the advantages which he had enjoyed, and the disadvantages 
 he had laboured under, in the course that he had run : a 
 scheme from which, however liable it might be to the ridicule 
 of Wits and Scoffers, (a circumftance of which, he says, he was 
 perfectly aware,) he conceived the Students might derive some 
 useful documents for the regulation of their own conduct and 
 
 Vol, I. b practise* 
 
x SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 practise. It is much to be regretted that he did not live to 
 compose such a Discourse ; for, from the hand of so great and 
 candid an Artht, it could not but have been highly curious 
 and instructive. One of these fragments relating to his feelings 
 when he first went to Italy, every reader will, I am confident, 
 be pleased with its insertion. 
 
 " It has frequently happened, (says this great painter,) as I was 
 informed by the keeper of the Vatican, that many of those whom 
 he had conducted through the various apartments of that edifice, 
 when about to be dismissed, have asked for the works of Raf- 
 faelle, and would not believe that they had already passed 
 through the rooms where they are preserved ; so little impres- 
 sion had those performances made on them. One of the first 
 painters now in France told me, that this circumstance happened 
 to himself; though he now looks on RafFaelle with that vene- 
 ration which he deserves from all painters and lovers of the 
 art. I remember very well my own disappointment, when I 
 firft visited the Vatican ; but on confessing my feelings to a 
 brother-student, of whose ingenuousness I had a high opinion, 
 he acknowledged that the works of Raffaelle had the same 
 effect on him, or rather that they did not produce the effect 
 which he expected. This was a great relief to my mind; 
 and on inquiring further of other students, I found that those 
 
 persons 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xi 
 
 persons only who from natural imbecillity appeared to be inca- 
 pable of ever relishing those divine performances, made pre- 
 tensions to instantaneous raptures on first beholding them. — 
 In justice to myself, however, I must add, that though disap- 
 pointed and mortified at not finding myself enraptured with 
 the works of this great master, I did not for a moment con- 
 ceive or suppose that the name of Raffaelle, and those admi- 
 rable paintings in particular, owed their reputation to the igno- 
 rance and prejudice of mankind; on the contrary, my not 
 relishing them as I was conscious I ought to have done, was 
 one of the most humiliating circumstances that ever happened 
 to me. I found myself in the midst of works executed upon 
 principles with which I was unacquainted : I felt my ignorance, 
 and stood abashed. All the indigested notions of painting which 
 I had brought with me from England, where the art was in the 
 lowest state it had ever been in, (it could not indeed be lower,) 
 were to be totally done away, and eradicated from my mind. 
 It was necessary, as it is expressed on a very solemn occasion, 
 that I should become as a little child. — Notwithstanding my 
 disappointment, I proceeded to copy some of those excellent 
 works. I viewed them again and again ; I even affected to 
 feel their merit, and to admire them, more than I really did. 
 In a short time a new taste and new perceptions began to dawn 
 upon me ; and I was convinced that I had originally formed a 
 
 b z false 
 
xii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 false opinion of the perfection of art, and that this great painter 
 was well entitled to the high rank which he holds in the esti- 
 mation of the world. The truth is, that if these works had 
 really been what I expected, they would have contained beau- 
 ties superficial and alluring, but by no means such as would 
 have entitled them to the great reputation which they have so 
 long and so justly obtained. 
 
 " Having since that period frequently revolved this sub- 
 ject in my mind, I am now clearly of opinion, that a relish 
 for the higher excellencies of art is an acquired taste, which 
 no man ever possessed without long cultivation, and great 
 labour and attention. On such occasions as that which I have 
 mentioned, we are often ashamed of our apparent dullness ; 
 as if it were to be expected that our minds, like tinder, should 
 instantly catch fire from the divine spark of Raffaelle's genius. 
 I flatter myself that now it would be so, and that I have a 
 just and lively perception of his great powers : but let it be 
 always remembered, that the excellence of his style is not on the 
 surface, but lies deep ; and at the first view is seen but mistily. 
 It is the florid style, which strikes at once, and captivates the 
 eye for a time, without ever satisfying the judgment. Nor does 
 painting in this respect differ from other arts. A just poetical 
 taste, and the acquisition of a nice discriminative musical ear, 
 
 are 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xiii 
 
 are equally the work of time. Even the eye, however per- 
 fect in itself, is often unable to distinguish between the bril- 
 liancy of two diamonds, though the experienced jeweller will 
 be amazed at its blindness ; not considering that there was a time 
 when he himself could not have been able to pronounce which of 
 the two was the most perfect, and that his own power of dis- 
 crimination was acquired by slow and imperceptible degrees. 
 
 "The man of true genius, instead of spending all his hours, 
 as many artists do while they are at Rome, in measuring sta- 
 tues and copying pictures, soon begins to think for himself, 
 and endeavours to do something like what he sees. — I consider 
 general copying 10 (he adds) as a delusive kind of industry : 
 the student satisfies himself with the appearance of doing 
 something ; he falls into the dangerous habit of imitating with- 
 out selecting, and of labouring without any determinate object : 
 as it requires no effort of the mind, he sleeps over his work, 
 and. those powers of invention and disposition which ought par- 
 ticularly to be called out and put in action, lie torpid, 
 and lose their energy for want of exercise. How incapable 
 of producing any thing of their own, those are, who have 
 spent most of their time in making finished copies, is an ob- 
 
 10 This observation occurs nearly in the same words in the first Discourse. 
 
 servation 
 
xiv SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 servation well known to all who are conversant with our art." — - 
 We may be assured, therefore, that this great painter did not 
 fall into the errour here pointed out ; — did not long continue 
 the practice of copying the great works " which were at this 
 period within his reach ; but rather employed his time in exa- 
 mining and fixing in his mind their peculiar and character- 
 istick excellencies. Instead of copying the touches of the great 
 masters, he aspired to copy their conceptions. «• From con- 
 templating the works of Titian, Coreggio, &c. (says he in 
 another of his fragments,) we derive this great advantage ; 
 we learn that certain niceties of expression are capable of being 
 executed, which otherwise we might consider as beyond the 
 reach of art : this inspires us with some degree of confidence, 
 and we are thus incited to endeavour at other excellencies 
 in the same line." 
 
 Some account of his particular practise and habits of study, 
 while he was in Italy, is, I know, much desired by several 
 artists of the present day ; but these I have no means of inves- 
 tigating. The method which he followed when he was at 
 Venice, in order to ascertain the principles on which the great 
 
 " Of the few copies which he made while he was at Rome, two are now in the pos- 
 session of the Earl of Inchiquin, who married his niece, Miss Palmer : St. Michael 
 the Archangel slaying the Dragon, after Guido ; and the School of Athens, 
 from Raffaelle ; both admirable performances. 
 
 masters 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xv 
 
 masters of colouring wrought, and to attain the true manage- 
 ment of light and shade, he has himself particularly mentioned 
 in a note on Du Fresnoy's Poem. 11 
 
 While he" was in Italy, he occasionally indulged himself 
 in Caricatura, which was much in vogue at that time. Of 
 pieces of this description, the only one which I have seen of 
 his hand, is a large picture,' 5 containing about twenty figures, 
 being all the English gentlemen of note who were then at 
 Rome. 
 
 After an absence of near three years, he began to think of 
 returning home ; and a slight circumstance which he used to 
 mention, may serve to shew, that however great delight he may 
 have derived from his residence in a country which Raffaelle 
 and Michael Angelo had embellished by their genius and 
 their works, the prospect of revisiting his native land was not 
 unpleasing. When he was at Venice, in compliment to the 
 English gentlemen then residing there, the manager of the 
 opera one night ordered the band to play an English ballad-tune. 
 Happening to be the popular air which was played or sung in 
 almost every street, just at the time of their leaving London, by 
 suggesting to them that metropolis with all its connexions and 
 
 M Vol. II. p. 246. 
 
 ,} In the collection of Joseph Henry, Esq. of Straffan in the county of Kildarc, 
 in Ireland. 
 
 I endearing 
 
w, SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 endearing circumstances, it immediately brought tears into our 
 author's eyes, as well as into those of his countrymen who were 
 present. 
 
 On his arrival in London m 1752/ 4 he very soon attracted 
 the publick notice ; and not long afterwards the whole-length 
 portrait which he painted of his friend and patron, Admiral 
 Keppel, exhibited fuch powers, that he was not only univer- 
 sally acknowledged to be at the head of his profession, but to 
 be the greatest painter that England had seen since Vandyck. 
 The whole interval between the time of Charles the First 
 and the conclusion of the reign of George the Second, though 
 distinguished by the performances of Lely, Riley, and Kneller, 
 seemed to be annihilated ; and the only question was, 
 whether the new painter, or Vandyck, were the more excellent. 
 For several years before the period we are now speaking of, 
 the painters of portraits contented themselves with exhibiting as 
 correct a resemblance as they could, but seem not to have thought, 
 or had not the power, of enlivening the canvas by giving a kind 
 of historick air to their pictures. Mr. Reynolds very soon saw 
 how much animation might be obtained by deviating from the 
 
 14 On his return from Italy he hired a large house in Newport-street, now 
 divided into two houses. Here he continued to dwell till the year ij6i, when 
 he removed to Leicester- Fields. 
 
 6 insipid 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xvii 
 
 insipid manner of his immediate predecessors ; ,J hence in many 
 of his portraits, particularly when combined in family-groups, 
 we find much of the variety and spirit of a higher species of art. 
 Instead of confining himself to mere likeness, in which however 
 he was eminently happy, he dived, as it were, into the mind, 
 and habits, and manners, of those who sat to him -;' 5 and ac- 
 cordingly the majority of his portraits are so appropriated and 
 characteristick, that the many illustrious persons whom he 
 has delineated, will be almost as well known to posterity, as 
 if they had seen and conversed with them. 
 
 Yery soon after his return from Italy, his acquaintance with 
 Dr. Johnson commenced ; and their intimacy continued unin- 
 terrupted to the time of Johnson's death. Happening to meet 
 with the Life of Savage inDevonshire, which, though published 
 some years before, was then new to him, he began to read it 
 (as Mr. Bos well has informed us) " while he was standingwith 
 his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. It seized his atten- 
 tion so strongly, that not being able to lay down the book till 
 he had finished it, when he attempted to move, he found h;s 
 
 'J Dahl, Richardson, Jervas, Thornhill, Hudson, Slaughter, &c. 
 
 16 The various portraits of Mr. Garrick, those of Dr. Johnson, Dr. Robinson 
 Archbishop of Armagh, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. 
 Gibbon, Lord Mansfield, Lord Thurlow, Lord Heathfield, Mr. Pott, Mr. Bos- 
 well, Mr. Windham, and Mr. Cholmondeley, are eminent instances of the truth 
 of this observation. 
 
 c arm 
 
xviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 arm totally benumbed." 11 Being then unacquainted with the au- 
 thor, he must naturally have had a strong desire to see and converse 
 with that extraordinary man ; and, as the same writer relates, he 
 about this time was introduced to him. ** When Johnson lived 
 in Castle-street, Cavendish Square, he used frequently to 
 visit two ladies who lived opposite to him ; [Mr. Reynolds;]' 8 
 Miss Cotterells, daughters of Admiral Cotterell. Reynolds 
 used also to visit there, and thus they met. Mr. Reynolds, 
 as I have observed above, had, from the first reading of his Life 
 of Savage, conceived a very high admiration of Johnson's 
 powers of writing. His conversation no less delighted him, 
 and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable zeal of 
 one who was ambitious of general improvement. Sir Joshua 
 indeed was lucky enough at their very first meeting to make a 
 remark, which was so much above the common-place style of 
 conversation, that Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had 
 the habit of thinking for himself. The ladies were regretting 
 the death of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations ; 
 upon which Reynolds observed, — " You have, however, the 
 comfort of being relieved from the burthen of gratitude." 
 They were mocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too 
 selfish ; but Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible man- 
 ner, and was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of 
 
 *9 Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, i. 144. 
 38 In Newport -street. 
 
 Iiuman 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. :i\x 
 
 human nature, which it exhibited, like some of the Reflec- 
 tions of Rochefaucault. The consequence was, that he went 
 home with Reynolds, and supped with him. 
 
 "Sir Joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of 
 Johnson, about the time of their first acquaintance. When they 
 were one evening together at the Miss CotterehV, the then 
 Duchess of Argyle and another lady of high rank, came in. 
 Johnson, thinking that the Miss Cotterells were too much en- 
 grossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, 
 as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew 
 angry ; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by making 
 their great visitors imagine they were low indeed, he addressed 
 himself in a loud tone to Mr. Reynolds, saying, * How much 
 do you think you and I could get in a week, if we were to 
 ivork as hard as we could f as if they had been common me- 
 chanicks." 19 
 
 How much he profited by his acquaintance with this ex- 
 cellent and extraordinary man, he intended to have particularly 
 mentioned in the Discourse which, as I have already observed, 
 he had it in contemplation to compose. " I remember, (says 
 
 '9 Life of Johnson, i. 217. Johnson, however, continued to live in intimacy 
 with these ladies, whom he frequently mentions in his letters to Baretti. In that 
 dated Dec. a, 176a, he says, " Miss Cottereil is still with Mrs. Porter : Miss Char- 
 lotte is married to Dean Lewis, and has three children." ibid. p. 341. 
 
 c % he,) 
 
xx SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 he,) Mr. Burke, speaking of the Essays of Sir Francis Bacon, 
 said, he thought them the best of his works. Dr. Johnson 
 was of opinion, ' that their excellence and their value consisted in 
 being the observations of a strong mind operating upon life ; 
 and in consequence you find there what you seldom find ia 
 other books.' — It is this kind of excellence which gives a value 
 to the performances of artists also. It is the thoughts expressed 
 in the works of Michael Angelo, Coreggio, RafFaelle, Parme- 
 giano, tand perhaps some of the old Gothick masters, and 
 not the inventions of Pietro da Cortona, Carlo Marati, Luca 
 Giordano, and others that I might mention, which we seek 
 after with avidity. From the former we learn to think origi- 
 nally. May I presume to introduce myself on this occasion, and 
 even to mention as an instance of the truth of what I have re- 
 marked,- the very Discourses which I have had the honour of deli- 
 vering from this place. Whatever merit they have, must be im- 
 puted, in a great measure, to the education which I may be said to 
 have had under Dr. Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certain- 
 ly would be to the credit of these Discourses, if I could say it with 
 truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them; but 
 he qualified my mind to think justly . No man had, like him, the 
 faculty of teaching inferior minds the art of thinking. Perhaps 
 other men might have equal knowledge ; but few. were so com- 
 municative. His great pleasure was to talk to those who looked 
 
 up 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxr 
 
 up to him. It was here he exhibited his wonderful powers. In 
 mixed company, and frequently in company that ought to have- 
 looked up to him, many, thinking they had a character for 
 learning to support, considered it as beneath them to enlist in 
 the train of his auditors ; and to such persons he certainly did not 
 appear to advantage, being often impetuous and overbearing. 
 The desire of shining in conversation was in him indeed a pre- 
 dominant passion j and if it must be attributed to vanity, let it 
 at the same time be recollected, that it produced that loquaciousness 
 from which his more intimate friends derived considerable advan- 
 tage. The observations which he made on poetry, on life, and 
 on every thing about us, I applied to our art j with what success 
 others must judge. Perhaps an artist in his studies should pur- 
 sue the same conduct ; and instead of patching up a particular 
 work on the narrow plan of imitation, rather endeavour to acquire 
 the art and power of thinking. On this subject I . have often 
 spoken; but it cannot be too often repeated, that the general 
 power of composition may be acquired ; and when acquired, the 
 artist may then lawfully take hints from his predecessors. In 
 reality indeed it appears to me, that a man must begin- by the 
 study of others. Thus Bacon became a great thinker, by first 
 entering into and making himself master of the thoughts of other 
 oaen," 
 
XX 11 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In consequence of his connexion with Dr. Johnson, he in 
 1759 furnished that writer with three Essays on the subject of 
 painting, which appeared in the Idler, and were, I believe, 
 our author's first literary performance. 
 
 To mark the gradual progress of his reputation from year to 
 year, is not the object of the present memoir ; but the era of the 
 establishment of that Academy which gave rise to the following 
 Discourses, forming a memorable epoch in the history of the 
 Arts, may justly claim particular notice. 
 
 The Painters of Great Britain from about the year 1750," 
 with a view of promoting their art by painting from living 
 models, associated together in a kind of Academy in St. Martin's 
 Lane, which they supported by annual subscription. Their 
 efforts, however, were not very successful till ten years 
 afterwards ;** when they formed a scheme of an annual exhibition 
 
 of 
 
 20 The first effort towards an Institution of this kind in the present century, was 
 made in 1724, when Sir James Thornhill opened an Academy for Drawing at his 
 house in Covent-garden. He had before proposed to Lord Halifax to obtain the 
 foundation of a Royal Academy, to be built at the upper end of the Mews, with 
 apartments for the Professors, &c. See Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting, 
 iv. 45. 
 
 i! Their first Exhibition was in the year 1760. "The Artists (says Dr. Johnson 
 in a letter to Joseph Baretti, dated London, June 10, 1761,) have instituted a 
 yearly exhibition of pictures and statues, in imitation, as I am told, of foreign 
 Academies. This year was the second exhibition. They please themselves much 
 3 with 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxiii 
 
 of their works, which, it was supposed, would be a probable 
 means of attracting the publick attention. In this speculation 
 they were not disappointed ; and having thus secured a firmer 
 footing, they afterwards (Jan. 26, 1765,) obtained a royal 
 charter of incorporation. 21 Not long after their incorporation, 
 however, the Artists who were not incorporated, conceiving some 
 jealousy against this body, resolved no longer to submit to their 
 regulations, and to undertake an Exhibition of their own; which 
 was continued for a few years with no great success. To compose 
 these jarring interests, and to give permanent dignity to a new 
 establishment, his Majesty, in 1769, 23 was pleased to institute a 
 Royal Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, 
 
 composed 
 
 with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the English School will rise in 
 reputation." Boswell's Life of Johnson, i. 328. 
 
 ** The principal artists from whom this scheme originated, were Mr. Moser, 
 Mr. Wilson, Mr. West, Mr. Sandby, Mr. Stubbs, and above all, Mr. (afterwards 
 Sir William) Chambers, whose ready access to his Majesty,, inconsequence of his 
 official situation, facilitated and gave efficacy to his exertions. 
 
 aJ An Academy had been constituted under the royal patronage in 1767 ; 
 but the plan was more confined, and the Institution was supported by an Annual 
 Subscription. The new Royal Establishment instituted in 1769, which still subsists, 
 was to be supported by the produce of an annual exhibition; and the deficiency (if 
 any) was to be supplied out of his Majesty's privy purse. For a few years 
 the infant institution required the aid of his Majesty's bounty, who, at various 
 times, was pleased to advance for its support above 5000 1. The Exhibitions, how- 
 ever, becoming annually more profitable, in a short time were more than ade- 
 quate to support the establishment ; in consequence of which the Academy have 
 now a considerable property in the Stocks, part of which they have lately appro- 
 priated 
 
\xx w SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 composed of " the ablest and most respectable artists resident in 
 Great Britain and Mr. Reynolds, holding unquestionably the 
 first rank in his profession, was nominated their President. Soon 
 afterwards he received the honour of knighthood. It was no part 
 of the prescribed duty of his office to read lectures to the Aca- 
 demy ; but our author voluntarily imposed this task upon him- 
 self, for the reasons which he has assigned in his fifteenth Dis- 
 course : " If prizes were to be given, it appeared not only proper, 
 but almost indispensably necessary, that something mould be 
 said by the President on the delivery of those prizes ; and the 
 President for his own credit would wish to say something more 
 than mere words of compliment ; which, by being frequently 
 repeated, would soon become flat and uninteresting, and by 
 being uttered to many, would at last become a distinction to 
 none : I thought therefore, if I were to preface this compliment 
 with some instructive observations on the art, when we crowned 
 merit in the artists whom we rewarded, I might do something 
 to animate and guide them in their future attempts." Such was 
 the laudable motive which produced the fifteen Discourses, 
 
 priated to create a fund for decayed artists. — From 1769 to 1780 the Exhibitions 
 produced, at an average, about 1500 1. annually ; from 1780 to 1796, about 
 2500 1. The receipts in 1780, when the Academy exhibited their works for the 
 first time at Somerset-Place, amounted to more than 3000 1. and those of J 796 
 exceeded that sum ; being the year of the greatest receipt from the first institution 
 of the Academy. 
 
 pro- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXV 
 
 pronounced by our author between the 2d of Jan. 1769, and the 
 10th of Dec. 1790: 14 a work which contains such a body of just 
 criticism on an extremely difficult subject, clothed in such per- 
 spicuous, elegant, and nervous language, that it is no exagger- 
 ated panegyrick to assert, that it will last as long as the English 
 tongue, and contribute no less than the productions of his pencil 
 to render his name immortal.*' 
 
 To the fame of the Academy the President from its first institu- 
 tion contributed not a little, by exhibiting every year a consider- 
 able number of his admirable performances ; * 6 and he so highly 
 
 respected 
 
 **In the first year the President delivered two Discourses; in the three years 
 following a Discourse annually; afterwards, only every second year, with the ex- 
 ception of that spoken on the removal of the Royal Academy to Somerset-Place. 
 
 15 Some years after the publication of the first seven of the Discourses, the Author 
 had the honour to receive from the late Empress of Russia, a gold box with a basso 
 relievo of her Imperial Majesty in the lid, set round with diamonds ; accompanied 
 with a note within, written with her own hand, containing these words: " Pour 
 le Chevalier Reynolds, en temoignage de contentment que j'ai ressentie a la lecture dt ses 
 excellens Discours sur la peinture." Before he received this mark of her Imperial 
 Majesty's favour, he had been commissioned to paint an Historical Picture for her, 
 on any subject that he thought fit. The subject which he chose was, The Infant 
 Hercules strangling the Serpents. For this picture, which is now at St. Petersburgh, 
 his Executors received from her Imperial Majesty, fifteen hundred guineas. 
 
 The first seven of the Discourses have been translated into French, and I believe 
 into Italian; and doubtless a complete translation of all our author's works, in each 
 of those languages, will soon appear. 
 
 25 Between 1769 and 1790, inclusive, he exhibited at the Royal Academy, two 
 hundred and forty-four pictures ; at the Exhibitions previous to the institution of 
 
 Vol. I. d the 
 
xxvi SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 respected Mr. Moser, to whose unwearied endeavours he con- 
 ceived this excellent Institution in a great degree owed its esta- 
 blishment, that on his death in 1783, he honoured his memory 
 by a publick testimonial, which probably appeared in some news- 
 paper of the day, and so well deserves a more permanent repo- 
 sitory, that I shall give it a place below. 17 
 
 What were the methods by which this great painter attained 
 to such consummate excellence in his profession, it is now, I 
 
 fear, 
 
 the Academy, between 1760 and X768, twenty-five. Total 269. In the whole of 
 this period, the year 1767 was the only one in which he exhibited nothing. 
 
 47 I know not where this eulogy originally appeared ; probably, however, it was 
 published in some of the daily papers. It is now printed from a copy in our 
 author's hand-writing: 
 
 " Jan. 24, 1783. 
 
 *• Yesterday died at his apartments in Somerset-Place, George Michael Moser, 
 Keeper of the Royal Academy ; aged seventy-eight years. He was a native of 
 Switzerland, but came to England very young, to follow the profession of a Chaser 
 in gold, in which art he has been always considered as holding the first rank. But 
 his skill was not confined to this alone ; he possessed a universal knowledge in all 
 the branches of painting and sculpture, which perfectly qualified him for the place 
 that he held in the Academy, the business of which principally consists in super- 
 intending and instructing the Students, who draw or model from the antique figures. 
 
 His private character deserves a more ample testimony, than this transient me- 
 morial. Few have passed a more inoffensive or perhaps a more happy life ; if hap- 
 piness or the enjoyment of life consists in having the mind always occupied, always 
 intent upon some useful art, by which fame and distinction may be acquired. Mr. 
 Moser's whole attention was absorbed either in the practise, or something that re- 
 lated to the advancement, of art. He may truly be said in every sense to have beeft 
 the father of the present race of Artists ; for long before the Royal Academy was 
 
 3 established, 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XX Vll 
 
 fear, too late to inquire; yet, as I find among his papers a few 
 slight hints upon this subject, in which he speaks of his merits 
 and defects with that candour which strongly marked his character, 
 though they are only detached thoughts, and did not receive his 
 final revision and correction, I am unwilling to suppress them: 
 
 established, he presided over the little Societies which met first in Salisbury-Court, 
 and afterwards in St. Martin's Lane, where they drew from living models. Perhaps 
 nothing that can be said, will more strongly imply his amiable disposition, than that 
 all the different Societies with which he has been connected, have always turned their 
 eyes upon him for their Treasurer and chief Manager ; when perhaps they would not 
 have contentedly submitted to any other authority. His early society was composed 
 of men whose names are well known in the world ; such as Hogarth, Rysbrach, 
 Roubiliac, Wills, Ellis, Vanderbank, &c. 
 
 Though he had out-lived all the companions of his youth, he might to the last 
 have boasted of a succession equally numerous ; for all that knew him, were his 
 friends. 
 
 When he was appointed Keeper of the Royal Academy, his conduct was ex- 
 emplary, and worthy to be imitated by whoever shall succeed him in that office. As 
 he loved the employment of teaching, he could not fail of discharging that duty 
 with diligence. By the propriety of his conduct he united the love and respect of 
 the Students : he kept order in the Academy, and made himself respected, without 
 the austerity or importance of office ; all noise and tumult immediately ceased on 
 his appearance ; at the same time there was nothing forbidding in his manner, which 
 might restrain the pupils from freely applying to him for advice or assistance. 
 
 All this excellence had a firm foundation ; he was a man of sincere and ardent 
 piety, and has left an illustrious example of the exactness with which the sub- 
 ordinate duties may be expected to be discharged by him, whose first care is to please 
 God. 
 
 He has left one daughter behind him, who has distinguished herself by the admi- 
 rable manner in which she paints and composes Pieces of Flowers, of which many 
 samples have been seen in the Exhibitions. She has had the honour of being much 
 employed in this way by their Majesties, and for her extraordinary merit has been 
 received into the Royal Academy. 
 
 d 2 *« Not 
 
xxviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 " Not having the advantage of an early academical education, 
 I never had that facility of drawing the naked figure, which an 
 artist ought to have. It appeared to me too late, when I went 
 to Italy and began to feel my own deficiencies, to endeavour to 
 acquire that readiness of invention which I observed others to 
 possess. I consoled myself, however, by remarking that these 
 ready inventers are extremely apt to acquiesce in imperfection; 
 and that if I had not their facility, I should for this very reason 
 be more likely to avoid the defect which too often accompanies 
 it; a trite and common-place mode of invention. How difficult 
 it is for the artist who possesses this facility to guard against 
 carelessness and common-place invention, is well known, and 
 in a kindred art Metastasio is an eminent instance ; who always 
 complained of the great difficulty he found in attaining correct- 
 ness, in consequence of having been in his youth an Improv- 
 
 visatore. Having this defect constantly in my mind, I never 
 
 was contented with common-place attitudes 18 or inventions of 
 any kind. 
 
 " Icon- 
 
 18 Our great artist's excellence in this respect hasbeen highly extolled by the late 
 Lord Orford: 
 
 «.' How painting has rekindled from its embers, (says that lively and ingenious 
 writer,) the works of many living artists demonstrate. The prints after the works of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds have spread his fame to Italy, where they have not at present 
 [1780] a single painter that can pretend to rival an imagination so fertile, that the at- 
 titudes of his portraits are as various as those of history. In what age were paternal 
 despair and the horrours of death pronounced with more expressive accents than in 
 
 his 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxix 
 
 U 1 considered myself as playing a great game, and, in- 
 stead of beginning to save money, I laid it out faster than I 
 got it, in purchasing the best examples of art that could be 
 procured ; for I even borrowed money for this purpose. 
 The possessing portraits by Titian, Vandyck, Rembrandt, &c. I 
 considered as the best kind of wealth. By studying carefully 
 the works of great masters, this advantage is obtained; we find 
 that certain niceties of expression are capable of being executed, 
 which otherwise we might suppose beyond the reach of art. 
 This gives us a confidence in ourselves; and we are thus incited 
 to endeavour at not only the same happiness of execution, but 
 also at other congenial excellencies. Study indeed consists in, 
 learning to see nature, and may be called the art of using other 
 men's minds. By this kind of contemplation and exercise, we 
 are taught to think in their way, and sometimes to attain theif 
 excellence. Thus, for instance, if I had never seen any of the 
 works of Coreggio, I should never perhaps have remarked in 
 nature the expression which I find in one of his pieces; or if I 
 had remarked it, I might have thought it too difficult or perhaps 
 impossible to be executed. 
 
 his picture of Count Ugolino? When was infantine loveliness, or embryo-passions, 
 touched with sweeter truth, than in his portraits of Miss Price and the baby Ju- 
 piter ?" — " The exuberance of his inventions (the same writer observes, in a 
 note,) will be the grammar of future painters of portraits." Anecdotes oi 
 Painting, &c. vol. iv. Advertisement. 
 
 i " My 
 
XXX 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 " My success and continual improvement in my art, (if I 
 may be allowed that expression,) may be ascribed in a good 
 measure to a principle which I will boldly recommend to imi- 
 tation ; I mean a principle of honesty ; which, in this as in all 
 other instances, is, according to the vulgar proverb, certainly 
 the best policy. I always endeavoured to do my best. Great 
 or vulgar, good subjects or bad, all had nature; by the exact 
 representation of which, or e'ven by the endeavour to give such 
 a reprefentation, the painter cannot but improve in his art. - - - 
 
 * ' My principal labour was employed on the whole together,** 
 and I was never weary of changing, and trying different modes 
 and different effects. I had always some scheme in my mind, 
 and a perpetual desire to advance. By constantly endeavouring 
 to do my best, I acquired a power of doing that with spontaneous 
 facility, which at first was the effort of my whole mind ; and 
 my reward was threefold; the satisfaction resulting from acting 
 on this just principle, improvement in my art, and the pleasure 
 derived from a constant pursuit after excellence. 
 
 *» This also, if I recollect right, is said to have been the principal object of 
 Coreggio ; and, however toilsome, is in various places strongly recommended 
 by our author. " A steady attention to the general effect, (as he has observed ia 
 his fourteenth Discourse,) takes up more time,, and is much more laborious to the 
 mind, than any mode of high finifhing, or smoothness, without such attention." 
 
 M I was 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xxxi 
 
 *' I was always willing to believe that my uncertainty of pro- 
 ceeding in my works, that is, my never being sure of my hand, 
 and my frequent alterations, arose from a refined taste, which 
 could not acquiesce in any thing short of a high degree of excel- 
 lence. I had not an opportunity of being early initiated in the 
 principles of colouring: no man indeed could teach me. If I 
 have never been settled with respect to colouring, let it at the 
 same time be remembered, that my unsteadiness in this respect 
 proceeded from an inordinate desire to possess every kind of ex- 
 cellence that I saw in the works of others ; without considering 
 that there is in colouring, as in style, excellencies which are in- 
 compatible with each other : However, this pursuit, or indeed 
 any similar pursuit, prevents the artist from being tired of his 
 
 art. We all know how often those masters who sought after 
 
 colouring, changed their manner; whilst others, merely from 
 not seeing various modes, acquiesced all their lives in that with 
 which they set out. On the contrary, I tried every effect of 
 colour; and by leaving out every colour in its turn, shewed 
 every colour that I could do without it. As I alternately left 
 out every colour, I tried every new colour; and often, as is 
 well known, failed. The former practice, I am aware, may be 
 compared by those whose first object is ridicule, to that of the 
 poet mentioned in the Spectator, who in a poem of twenty-four 
 books contrived in each book to leave out a letter. But I was 
 
 influenced 
 
xxxu 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 influenced by no such idle or foolish affectation. My fickleness 
 in the mode of colouring arose from an eager desire to attain the 
 highest excellence.* 8 This is the only merit I can assume to my- 
 self from my conduct in that respect." 
 
 Thus 
 
 lS Our author was so anxious to discover the method used by the Venetian 
 Painters, that he destroyed some valuable ancient pictures by rubbing out the 
 various kyers of colour, in order to investigate and ascertain it. Had he lived a 
 few years longer, he would have had the satisfaction of attaining by an easier 
 way the process employed by the great colourists of former times ; for there is 
 good reason to believe that it has been preserved, and probably in a fhort time it 
 will be generally known. This very valuable secret is possessed by a lady, Miss 
 Anne Jemima Provis, daughter of Mr. Thomas Provis, who was born at Yar- 
 lington in Somersetshire. The manuscripts of Captain Morley, his maternal 
 grandfather, a gentleman of Somersetshire, who had travelled into Italy about the 
 beginning of this century, having fallen into his hands on the death of his mother 
 a few years since, he was induced to examine minutely one, which, beside many 
 observations made by his ancestor on various subjefts in the course oi his travels, 
 contained several curious remarks on art ; and his daughter having a turn for 
 painting, he extracted from this manuscript all that related to that subject. Among 
 other particulars, thus extracted, was the process of colouring used by Titian, the 
 Bassans, and other masters of the Venetian school ; to which Captain Morley had 
 
 prefixed the words — " Given me by my good friend, Signor , at Venice." 
 
 All the original papers of this gentleman were destroyed by the house of Mr. 
 Provis being burnt down about five years ago ; but luckily the extract which he 
 had made relative to painting for the use of his daughter, was preserved in a port, 
 folio that happened to be then in another place. — This process (according to 
 which Mifs Provis has made various experiments with success for three years past,) 
 has been communicated for a valuable consideration, and under an obligation of 
 secrecy, to some of our principal artists and connoisseurs, who are all of opinion 
 that it is the very process used by the painters of the Venetian School ; and several 
 pictures painted according to the mode prescribed by this lady, will, I am informed, 
 appear at the ensuing Exhibition. 
 
 Our 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXX11I 
 
 Thus ingenuously and modestly has this great painter spoken 
 of himself in the few fragments which I have found on this inte- 
 resting subject. On the last topick he might with great truth 
 have added, that he not only always aspired to attain the high- 
 est excellence of colouring, but that in very many instances he 
 did attain it ; there being no one particular in which he left 
 his contemporaries so far behind him, as the richness and mel- 
 lowness of his tints, when his colours were successful and 
 permanent. 29 Had he chosen to walk in the common beat- 
 en path, he could have found no difficulty in following the 
 
 ordinary 
 
 Our great painter had undoubtedly attained a part of this process, though he had 
 never seen the papers in which it is preserved ; and by various methods of his own 
 invention produced a similar, though perhaps not quite so brilliant an effect of colour. 
 
 After the gross imposition practised on the publick two years since, by means of 
 forged manuscripts under the name of Shakspeare ; (the fabrication of which, 
 though detected, has lately found a puny, but perfectly homogeneous, champion, 
 whose mortified vanity has prompted him to abet and countenance a silly fiction, 
 by confident and groundless assertions, false quotation?, and arguments still more 
 flimsy and absurd than the imposture itself ;) after such a deception, the cautious 
 inquirer may perhaps hesitate, before he gives complete credit to what has been 
 here stated ; but the process discovered in these papers being experimental, whether 
 it be the genuine method of the Venetian School, (or at least one similar in its effect,) 
 or a modern fiction, may be easily ascertained. 
 
 89 The set of pictures which he painted as designs for the window of New College 
 chapel, are eminent and brilliant instances of the truth of this observation. How- 
 ever high expectation may have been raised by Mr. Warton's very elegant verses 
 on this subject, it will be fully gratified by the view of these admirable pieces. 
 They now form a beautiful decoration of that room, which formerly was appropriated 
 to the exhibition of the various works of this great master, after they were 
 dismissed from his painting-room. 
 
 Vol. I. e As 
 
cMMv SOME ACCOUNT OP 
 
 ordinary method pursued by much inferior artists : by deviating 
 from it, he caught that grace which sheds such a luflre on fas 
 the greater part of his works. 
 
 Though 
 
 As the West Window of New College Chapel, decorated as it now is, will 
 long contribute to add to this great Painter's reputation, his own observations on 
 this subject, may not be unacceptable to the numerous visitors who fhall hereafter be 
 induced to view it. The original scheme, it appears, was, to distribute the various 
 figures in different places in the Chapel, but this plan was abandoned,, as it should 
 seem on our author's suggestion ; and on his suggestion also the stone-work of the 
 window was altered, so as to admit one large compartment for paintings in ths 
 centre : an alteration in effecting which the gentleman to whom Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 addreffed two letters on this occasion, who was then a fellow of New College, was 
 actively instrumental. From these letters, which were obligingly communicated to 
 me by Osias Humphry, Esq. R. A. I subjoin the following extracts, in confirm- 
 ation of what has been now stated'. 
 
 Leicester Fields, Dec. 27, 1777. 
 " I am extremely glad to hear the Society have determined to place all our works 
 together in the West Window, to make one complete whole, instead of being dis- 
 tributed in different parts of the Chapel. In my conversation with Mr. Jervais about 
 it, he thought it might be possible to change the stone-work of the window, so as 
 to make'a principal predominant space in the centre, without which it will be difficult 
 to produce a great effect. As Mr. Jervais is now at Oxford, I need add no more; 
 I have already expressed to him how much I wished this alteration might be 
 practicable." 
 
 In a subsequent letter, (Jan. 9th 1778,) he says, — H Supposing this scheme to 
 take place, [the alteration above proposed,] my idea is, to paint in the great space in 
 the centre, Christ in the manger, on the principle that Coreggio has done it, in 
 the famous picture called the Notte ; making all the light proceed from Christ. 
 These tricks of the art, as they may be called, seem to be more properly adapted 
 to glass-painting, than any other kind. This middle space will be filled with the 
 Virgin, Christ, Joseph, and Angels ; the two smaller spaces on each side I shall 
 fill with the Shepherds coming to worship ; and the seven divisions below with 
 the figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity, and the Four Cardinal Virtues ; which 
 will make a proper rustick base "or foundation for the support of the Christian 
 
 3 Religion. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Though the landscapes which he has given in the back- 
 ground of many of his portraits, are eminently beautiful, he 
 seldom exercised his hand in regular landscape - painting ; his 
 only works of this description, that I know of, being one in 
 the collection of Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart, another in that 
 of Lord Pelham at Stanmer, and the third a View from Rich- 
 mond-Hill, in the collection of the Earl of Inchiquin. A few 
 more may perhaps be found in other collections. But in the 
 historical department he took a wider range; and by his suc- 
 cessful exertions in that higher branch of his art, he has not 
 only enriched various cabinets at home, but extended the fame 
 of the English School to foreign countries. 10 
 
 During 
 
 Religion. Upon the whole it appears to me, that chance has presented to us mate- 
 rials so well adapted to our purpose, that if we had the whole window of our own 
 
 invention and contrivance, we should not probably have succeeded better." 
 
 The original Picture of the Nativity, a copy of which occupies the middle com- 
 partment of this window, is in the collection of the Duke of Rutland. 
 
 30 The most considerable of his Historical and Miscellaneous Pieces are the fol- 
 lowing, to which, for the sake of posterity, I have adjoined the prices paid for 
 them, and the purchasers' names, where I could discover them. 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Garrick, between Tragedy andComedy. 300 Guineas. The Earl of Halifax. Since 
 
 his death sold to Mr. 
 Angerstein, for 230 Gs. 
 
 Thais [Emily Pott] 100 . . . Hon. Mr. Greville. 
 
 Cleopatra dissolving the pearl [Kitty 
 
 Fisher] > — — « 
 
 Venus, chiding Cupid for learning 
 
 arithmetick . 100 . . • The Earl of Charlemont. 
 
 e 2 Another. 
 
xxxvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 During the brilliant career which he ran," his profession 
 did not permit him often to make excursions from town. 
 
 In 
 
 Subjects. 
 Another, — the same subject. 
 
 Prices. Purchasers. 
 100 Guineas. Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart, 
 
 
 35 • 
 
 . . John Crewe, Esq. 
 
 
 50 . 
 
 . . Lord Irwin. 
 
 
 400 . . 
 
 . The Duke of Dorset. 
 
 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 
 75 
 
 . Do. 
 
 
 70 . 
 
 ..' . Do. 
 
 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 A boy with a drawing in his hand. . . 
 
 50 . 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 A boy with a child on his back, and 
 
 
 
 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 
 50 . 
 
 . . Do. 
 
 Another, — the same subject. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Garrick, sitting on a gar- 
 den-seat; Mr. Garrick reading to her. 
 
 A Girl with a Mouse-trap 
 
 A Landscape . . 
 
 A fleeping boy 
 
 A Landscape. ... . . 
 
 The Marchioness Townshend, Mrs. 
 Gardiner, and Hon. Mrs. Berisford, 
 decorating the statue of Hymen. . . 
 
 Hope nursing Love 
 
 Another, — the same subject. . . . . 
 
 Another, — the same subject 
 
 75 
 
 150 
 50 
 5° 
 5° 
 50 
 
 45o 
 15° 
 
 A Strawberry Girl 50 
 
 The Snake in the Grass. [This has been 
 called, Love untying the zone of 
 
 Beauty.]] 200 
 
 1 
 
 The Earl of Darnley- 
 
 The Hon. T. Fitzmaurice. 
 Count DAdemar. 
 The Earl of Aylesford. 
 Do. 
 
 Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart, 
 
 Lord Mountjoy. 
 
 Lord Holland. 
 
 Henry Hope, Esq. 
 
 In the collection of the 
 
 Earl of Inchiquin. 
 The Earl of Carysfort. 
 
 The Earl of Carysfort. 
 
 Another. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xxxvii 
 
 In the summer, however, he at different periods visited the 
 seats of the Duke of Marlborough, Lord Boringdon, Lord 
 
 Eliot, 
 
 Subjects. Prices. 
 
 Another .' . A present 
 
 Another 100 Guineas. 
 
 The Continence of Scipio 500 . . . 
 
 The Nativity [a design for the window 
 
 of New College Chapel in Oxford]. 1200 
 
 The infant Jupiter 100 
 
 An old man reading a ballad. . . . 
 
 The Calling of Samuel 100 
 
 A boy praying 50 
 
 The Death of Dido. . : .... 200 
 
 The Theory of Painting 
 
 Another. . . . ; — 
 
 A Shepherd Boy : . . 
 
 A Shepherdess with a lamb 
 
 A Girl with a kitten 
 
 A Girl with a muff. 
 
 Caelia lamenting the death of her sparrow 
 
 [Mrs. Collyer] 
 
 L'Allegro [Mrs. Hale] ; several figures 
 
 in the back-ground 
 
 Robinetta [the Hon. Mrs. Tollemache]. 
 
 Diana [Lady Napier] 
 
 Diana [the Duchess of Manchester]. 
 
 Master Wynne, as St. John 
 
 Master Crewe, as Hemy VIII. . . . 
 Master Herbert, in the charac. of Bacchus. 
 
 Juno [Lady Blake] 
 
 Hebe [Miss Meyer, a whole-length 
 
 figure on a half-length canvass]. . . 
 Melancholy [Miss Jones] 
 
 75 
 
 Purchasers. 
 Henry Hope, Esq. 
 Prince Potemkin. 
 Do. 
 
 The Duke of Rutland. 
 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 
 
 Sent to France by Mr. 
 
 Chamier, in 1778. 
 Mr. Bryant. 
 In the Royal Academy. 
 In the collection of the 
 
 Earl of Inchiquin. 
 In the same collection. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 
 . . . Lord Harewood. 
 
 • . . . The Duke of Manchester, 
 
 John Crewe, Esq. 
 Lord Portchester. 
 
 Young 
 
xxxyui 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Eliot, Lord Ossory, Lord Palmerston, Mr. Burke, and other 
 friends ; 52 and occasionally spent a few days at his villa on 
 
 Richmond- 
 
 Subjects. 
 Young Hannibal [a boy in armour]. 
 Francis, Duke of Bedford, as St. George; 
 
 with his brothers, Lord John and Lord 
 
 William Russel 
 
 The Fortune-teller [Lady Charlotte and 
 
 Lord Henry Spencer] 
 
 Miranda [The Hon. Mrs. Tollemache] 
 
 and Caliban 
 
 St. Agnes [Mrs. Quarington]. . . 
 The Triumph of Truth [Dr. Beattie, 
 
 with two figures representing Truth 
 
 and Falshood]. . . ...... 
 
 A boy laughing 
 
 Ariadne 
 
 Dionysius, Areopagita 
 
 The Captive. [This has been called, the 
 
 Banished Lord, and Cartouche.] . . 
 Lady Sarah Bunbury, sacrificing to the 
 
 Graces . . . 
 
 The infant Moses in the bulrushes. . . 
 
 .Edwin . 
 
 A Child with Angels 
 
 The Virgin and Child. [This picture 
 
 was not quite finished.] ...... 
 
 The Angel contemplating the Cross ; 
 
 being the upper part of the Nativity. 
 
 The four Cardinal Virtues, Justice, 
 Prudence, Temperance, and Forti- 
 tude ; and Faith, Hope, and Charity; 
 Designs for the Window of New Col- 
 Jege, Oxford, painted by Mr. Jervais. 
 
 Prices, Purchasers. 
 
 . . . TheDukeof Marlborough, 
 
 50 Guineas. R. P. Knight, Esq. 
 
 . . . Dr. Beattie. 
 
 50 ... — Bromwell, Esq. 
 
 35 . . . William Lock, Esq. 
 
 80 . . . Charles Long, Esq. 
 
 — . . . Sir Cha. Bunbury, Bart. 
 
 125 ... The Duke of Leeds. 
 
 55 ... Do. 
 ... Do. 
 
 65 . . . Mr. John Bannister. 
 
 *— ■ . . . Bequeathed to the Duke 
 of Portland. 
 
 . . • In the collection of the 
 Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 A Bac- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Richmond-Hill ; but he had very little relish for a country life, 
 and was always glad to return to London, to which he was not- 
 less 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 A Bacchante. 
 
 A holy Family. 
 
 Tuccia, the Vestal Virgin. . . . > 
 
 The Gleaners [Mrs. Macklin, her 
 daughter, and Miss Pots]. 
 
 St. John 
 
 St. Cecilia [Mrs. Sheridan, and two 
 daughters of Coote Purdon, Esq.] 
 
 A boy with a port-folio 
 
 The family of George, Duke of 
 Marlborough 
 
 Two Groups, in the manner of Paul 
 Veronse ; cue containing the por- 
 traits of the Duke of Leeds, Lord 
 Dundas, Constantine Lord Mulgrave, 
 Lord Seaforth, the Hon. Charles Gre- 
 ville, Charles Crowle, Esq. and the 
 Right Hon. Sir Joseph Banks, Bart.; 
 the other, those of Sir Wm. Hamilton, 
 Sir W. W. Wynne, Bart. Richard 
 Thompson, Esq. Sir John Taylor, 
 
 Payne Galway, Esq. John Smyth, 
 
 Esq. and Spencer Stanhope, Esq. 
 
 The Children in the Wood 
 
 A Girl leaning on a pedestal. . . 
 
 The Infant Academy 
 
 Venus. . . . ....... 
 
 Prices. 
 50 Guineas. 
 500 . . . 
 
 200 
 
 300 
 150 
 
 150 
 5° 
 
 700 
 
 75 
 
 Purchasers. 
 
 Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 Mr. Macklin, Print-seller. 
 Afterwards sold to Lord 
 Gwydirfor 700 guineas, 
 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 
 
 — Willet, Esq. 
 
 R. B. Sheridan, Esq. 
 The Earl of Warwick. 
 
 TheDukeof Marlborough, 
 
 Society of Dilettanti. 
 Lord Palmerston. 
 Do. 
 
 Do. by bequest. 
 The Earl of Upper Oflbry, 
 by bequest. 
 
 Una, 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 less attached than Dr. Johnson : with him, justly considering 
 that metropolis as the head-quarters of intellectual society. In 
 
 Subjects. Prices. Purchasers. 
 
 Una, from Spencer. [Miss Beauclerk.] — ... In the collection of Lord 
 
 Inchiquin. 
 
 King Lear > . . . Do. 
 
 Venus, and a boy piping 250 Guineas. J. J. Angerstein, Esq. 
 
 Heads of Angels, a study. From a 
 
 daughter of Lord William Gordon. . 100 . . . Lord William Gordon. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort 500 . . . Mr. Alderman Boydell. 
 
 Robin Goodfellow 100 .. . Do. 
 
 The Cauldron-Scene in Macbeth. . . 1000I. . . . Do. 
 Resignation, from Goldsmith's Deserted 
 
 Village ... In the collection of Lord 
 
 O 
 
 Inchiquin. 
 
 Mrs. Siddons, in the character of the 
 
 Tragick Muse 700 Guineas. — Desenfans, Esq. 
 
 The Infant Hercules in the Cradle. [A 
 
 single figure, painted before the large 
 
 picture.] 150 . . . Earl Fitzwilliam. 
 
 Hercules, strangling the serpents. . . 1500 . . . The Empress of Russia. 
 
 Cupid and Psyche 250 . . . Charles Long, Esq. 
 
 Cymon and Iphigenia. [This was the last 
 
 fancy-picture painted by Sir Joshua 
 
 Reynolds.] ... In the collection of Lord 
 
 Inchiquin. 
 
 31 In a letter to Mr. Baretti, June 10, 1761, Dr. Johnson says — " Reynolds 
 is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to thousands." Writing a few 
 months afterwards to the same person, he says" Mr. Reynolds gets six thousand 
 a year." 
 
 31 In 1762 he spent some weeks in his native county, Devonshire, accompa- 
 nied by Dr. Johnson. Of this visit, during which they were entertained at the 
 seats of many noblemen and gentlemen in the West of England, Mr. Boswell has 
 given a particular account in his Life of Johnson, i. 344. 8vo. 
 
 July 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xli 
 
 July 1 78 1, in order to view the most celebrated productions 
 of the Flemish and Dutch Schools, in company with his friend 
 Mr. Metcalfe, 55 he made a tour to the Netherlands and Holland, 
 and the fruit of his travel was a very pleasing account of their 
 journey, containing remarks on the pictures preserved in the 
 various churches and cabinets that he visited ; to which he has 
 subjoined a masterly character of Rubens. His critical obser- 
 vations on the many excellent pieces that he viewed at Antwerp 
 
 3J To this gentleman our author intended to have dedicated his Tour to the Ne- 
 therlands, but he had only written a few introductory paragraphs. These, however, 
 I did not discover till the Tour was printed, and therefore fhall introduce them here : 
 
 " I send you, put together in as much order as the little time I can spare from my 
 business will permit, the Notes that I made abroad on the pictures that we saw toge- 
 ther. I present them to you as properly your due ; for if I had been accompanied 
 by a person of less taste, or less politeness, they probably would not have been made. 
 The pleasure that a mere dilettante derives from seeing the works of art, ceases when 
 he has received the full effect of each performance; but the Painter has the means of 
 amusing himself much longer, by investigating the principles on which the Artist 
 wrought. To which ever of your good qualities I am to attribute your long and 
 patient attendance, while I was employed in examining the various works which we 
 saw, it merits my warmest acknowledgments. Nor is it an inconsiderable advantage 
 to see such works in company with one, who has a general rectitude of taste, and is 
 not a professor of the art. We are too apt to forget that the art is not intended solely 
 for the pleasure of professors. The opinions of others are certainly not to be neglected ; 
 since by their means the received rules of art may be corrected : at least a species of 
 benefit may be obtained, which we are not likely to derive from the judgment of 
 painters ; who being educated in the same manner, are likely to judge from the same 
 principles, are liable to the same prejudices, and may sometimes be governed by 
 the influence of an authority which perhaps has no foundation in nature." 
 
 I learn from Mr. Metcalfe, that our author spent several hours in the Churches at 
 Antwerp, in seeing and examining the works of Rubens, returning to them again 
 and again. ^ 
 
 Vol. I. f and 
 
x [ii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and Brussels, in the Dusseldorp Gallery, and at Amsterdam, 
 which are now for the first time given to the world, have since 
 his death acquired an additional value; for by the baleful success 
 and ravages of the French plunderers, who have since that 
 period desolated Europe, many of the most celebrated works 
 of the Flemish School in the Netherlands (for I will not gratify 
 our English republicans by calling ItBcIgmm ) have been eitherde- 
 stroyed or carried away to that "opprobrious den of shame,"' 
 which it is to be hoped no polished Englishman will ever visit. 
 — Many of the pictures of Rubens being to be sold in 1783, 
 in consequence of certain religious houses being suppressed by 
 the Emperor, he again in that year visited Antwerp and Brus- 
 sels, and devoted several days to contemplating the productions 
 of that great painter. u On his return from his first tour, his 
 own pieces (as he remarked to Mr. Metcalfe) seemed to him 
 to want force ; and the portraits which he painted between that 
 
 34 On viewing the pictures of Rubens a second time, they appeared much Jess 
 brilliant than they had done on the former inspection. He could not for some time 
 account for this circumstance ; but when he recollected, that when he first saw them, 
 be had his note-book in his hand, for the purpose of writing down short remarks, 
 lie perceived what had occasioned their now making a less impression in this re- 
 spect than they had done formerly. By the eye passing immediately from the white 
 paper to the picture, the colours derived uncommon richness and warmth. For 
 want of this foil, they afterwards appeared comparatively cold. 
 
 This little circumstance was communicated to me by Sir George Beaumont, whose 
 good taste and skill discovered, that in the two groups mentioned in a former page, 
 our author had Paul Veronese in view ; which, on the remark being made, he said 
 was the case. 
 
 period 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. xlm 
 
 period and 1789, it is observable, have still more animation, 
 energy, and brilliancy of colouring, than his former works. 
 
 In the same year (1783) Mr. Mason having finished his ele- 
 gant translation of Du Fresnoy's Art of Painting, our author 
 enriched that work with a very ample and ingenious Commen- 
 tary, which, together with the Poem to which it relates, is 
 now published with his Discourses; Mr. Mason having 
 obligingly permitted his translation to be printed in this collec- 
 tion of his late friend's works. The Annotations, indeed, with- 
 out the poem, would not be intelligible. " The Discourses,'* 
 as their author has observed, 55 " having scarce any relation to 
 the mechanical part of the art, 36 these notes may be considered 
 as in some measure supplying that deficiency :'' and we may 
 with truth add, that these two works comprise the whole 
 science and practice of painting. 
 
 On the death of Mr. Ramsay in the following year, our 
 author (nth August, 1784,) was sworn principal painter in 
 ordinary to his Majesty ; which office he possessed to his death : 
 and two months afterwards, on St. Luke's Day, he was pre- 
 sented with the freedom of the Painters' Company, an honour 
 
 35 In a loo.se fragment. 
 
 35 A few practical instructions are given in the twelfth Discourse; and perhaps 
 some useful hints may be discovered by the Student, dispersed in the other 
 Discourses. 
 
 f 2 which. 
 
xlbr SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 which, though to him of little value, he received with his usual 
 complacency and politeness. 
 
 As posterity may be curious to know what were the prices 
 paid at various periods to this great painter for his works, it 
 may not perhaps be thought too minute to add, that about the 
 year 1755 his price for a three-quarters, or as it is popularly 
 called, a head, was but twelve guineas ; in the beginning of 
 1758, twenty guineas; soon after 1760, twenty-five guineas; 
 in 1770, thirty-five guineas ; and in 1 781 , fifty guineas ; which 
 continued to be the price till he ceased to paint. The price of 
 a half-length during this latter period was one hundred guineas j 
 and for a whole-length two hundred guineas were paid. 37 From 
 a paper which I transcribed some years ago in the Lord Cham- 
 berlain's Office, from an office-book which formerly belonged 
 to Philip Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, it appears that 
 Vandyck in 1632 received but twenty-five pounds for a whole- 
 length picture of Charles the First ; for a half-length of the 
 Queen, twenty pounds ; and " for one great piece of his Ma^ 
 jestie, the Queene, and their children, one hundred pounds ;" 
 which, however, considering the change in the value of money 
 and the modes of life, may be estimated as equal to three hun- 
 dred pounds at this day. 
 
 37 His pupils were, Giuseppe Marchi, who accompanied him from Italy, Mr. 
 Beech, Mr. Baron, Mr. Berridge, Mr. Parry, (son to the celebrated player on 
 the harp,) Mr. Gill, Mr. Dusine, Mr. Northcote, R. A. Mr. Doughty, and Mr. 
 
 Score.. 
 
 The 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 The personal character of Sir Joshua Reynolds is well known 
 to many of his surviving friends and admirers ; but it would 
 be great injustice to him, and an unpardonable inattention to 
 posterity, not to give in this place a slight sketch of his manners, 
 habits, and endowments. He was in stature rather under the 
 middle size ; of a florid complexion, and a lively and pleasing 
 aspect; well made, and extremely active/ 8 His appearance at 
 
 first 
 
 38 The last portrait which he painted of himself, (with spectacles) in 1788, is 
 extremely like him, and exhibits him exactly as he appeared in his latter days, 
 in domestick life. It is a three-quarters, in the collection of the Earl of Inchiquin ; 
 and his Grace the Duke of Leeds has a duplicate of it. There is a portrait ot him 
 by himself in the dining-room of the Society of Dilettanti, in Pail-Mall, a three- 
 quarters also ; he is dressed in a loose robe, and has his own hair. Another, 
 (in which he holds his hand to his ear, to aid the sound,) painted for Mr. Thrale 
 about 1775, is in possession of Mrs. Piozzi. Another, (a half-length,) is in the 
 Royal Academy, with a cap, and the gown of a Doctor of the Civil Law ; which 
 honour he received from the University of Oxford, July 9, 1773 : in this picture 
 is introduced the bust of Michael Angclo, on whom he pronounced so high an 
 encomium in his last Discourse. Another in the same dress, a three-quarters, 
 is at Belvoir Castle ; and a third in the same dress, is in the gallery of the Great 
 Duke at Florence. Another portrait of him is preserved in the Town-Hall at 
 Plympton, also painted and presented by himself; in this picture a red gown is 
 thrown carelessly about him, and he is without a cap. One nearly resembling 
 this, and painted before it, is at Taplow-Court. We have another portrait of our 
 author in the dress of a Shepherd, with Mr. Jervais, the Glass-Painter, in one ot 
 the pictures painted as designs for the great window of New College Chapel, in 
 Oxlord : and Mr. Farington, R. A. has a portrait ot him, by himself, as a painter, 
 with a canvass, easel, &c. before him. Another portrait ot him, by himself, is in 
 possession of Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. of Killiow, in Cornwall. Lord Inchi- 
 quin has two portraits of our author when young, one when he was about thirty 
 
 x years- 
 
xlvi SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 iirst sight impressed the spectator with the idea of a well-bom 
 and well-bred English gentleman. With an uncommon equa- 
 
 libity 
 
 ye&rs old, in liis own hair ; the other younger, (in the manner of Rembrandt,) in 
 his own hair also, with his great coat and hat on. Another youthful portrait, done 
 before he went to Italy, is said to be in the possession of Thomas Lane, Esq. 
 of Coffleat in Devonshire. 
 
 There is also a portrait of him, painted by C. G. Stuart, an American, about 
 the vear 1784, in the possession of Mr. Alderman Boydell ; another by ZafFanii, 
 in a picture representing all the artists of the Academy about the year 1770, in 
 1 he King's Collection; and not long before his death, when he was much indis 
 posed, he sat to Mr. Breda, a Swedish painter, whose performance appeared a 
 few years ago in the Exhibition. 
 
 Soon after Gainsborough settled in London, Sir Joshua Reynolds thought 
 himself bound in civility to pay him a visit. That painter, however, (as our 
 author told me,) took not the least notice of him for several years ; but at length 
 called on him, and requested him to sit for his picture. Sir Joshua complied, and 
 sat once to that artist ; but being soon afterwards taken ill, he was obliged to go 
 to Bath for his health. On his return to London perfectly restored, he sent 
 Gainsborough word that he was returned, to which Gainsborough, who was 
 extremely capricious, only replied, that he was glad to hear that Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 was well ; and he never afterwards desired Sir Joshua to sit, nor had any other 
 intercourse with him, till Gainsborough was dying, when he sent to request to sec 
 him, and thanked him for the very liberal and favourable manner in which he 
 had always spoken of his works ; a circumstance which our author has thought 
 worth recording in his fourteenth Discourse. The capricious conduct of Gain- 
 sborough did not prevent our author from purchasing from him his well-known 
 picture of a girl tending pigs, for which one hundred guineas were paid. 
 
 A marble bust of Sir Joshua Reynolds by Cirachi, an Italian Sculptor, is 
 in possession of the Earl of Inchiquin ; and another bust modelled from the life, 
 in terra cotta, more like than the marble bust, which was done from it, was sold 
 by auction by Greenwood, in 1792. I have a medallion modelled in wax by 
 Mountstephen, which is a very faithful representation of this great painter, in 
 his usual evening dress. It was done in 1790, when he was in his sixty-seventh 
 year. 
 
 The 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 xlvii 
 
 bility of temper, which, however, never degenerated into 
 insipidity or apathy, he possessed a constant flow of spirits, 
 which rendered him at all times a most pleasing companion ; 
 always cheerful, and ready to be amused with whatever 
 was going forward, and from an ardent thirst of knowledge 
 anxious to obtain information on every subject that was presented 
 to his mind. In conversation, his manner was perfectly natural,, 
 simple, and unassuming. Though he had occasionally dipped 
 into many books, not having had time for regular and syste- 
 
 The Engravings that have been made from his various portraits are, 1. By 
 V. Green, in Mezzotinto, from the picture in the Academy. 2. By J. Collyer, from 
 the same ; a small oval. 3. By James Watson, in Mezzotinto, from the picture 
 belonging to the Society of Dilettanti. 4. By C. Townley, from the picture in the 
 Gallery at Florence. 5. By I. K. Sherwin, from the same picture. 6. By R. Earlom, 
 from Zaffanii's picture of the Academy. 7. By Pariset, from a drawing by 
 Falconet. 8. By Facius, from the window in New College Chapel. 9. Another, 
 when young r his hand shading his forehead ; by Reynolds, from the picture in 
 Mr. Lane's possession. 10. By Caroline Kirkley ; from Mr. Gwatkin's picture. 
 11. That prefixed to the present edition of his works; engraved by Caroline 
 Watson, from the portrait in the collection ot Lord Inchiquin. There is, I believe,, 
 a copy of this by T. Holloway. 12. By ■ , from Mr. Breda's picture. 
 
 The tricks which are often practised with engraved copper-plates, are well 
 known. At the time the person so justly execrated, and branded with the name 
 of The Monster, made much noise, the dealers in articles of this kind were 
 veiy desirous of some representation of him ; but not being able suddenly to 
 procure one, they made an old plate, which had been engraved for a magazine, 
 and with the aid of the name subjoined was intended, to pass for the portrait of 
 our author, serve their purpose. As the print had no resemblance to Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, and had indeed a most formidable appearance, by striking out the. 
 original inscription, and substituting The Monster, it did very well. 
 
 matick 
 
xlvlii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 matick study, some topicks which had been long discussed 
 and settled, were new to him; and hence merely by the vigour 
 of his excellent understanding, he often suggested ingenious 
 theories, and formed just conclusions, which had already been 
 deduced by the laborious disquisitions of others. Finding how 
 little time he could spare from his profession, for the purpose of 
 acquiring general knowledge from books, he very early and: 
 wisely resolved to partake as much as possible of the society 
 of all the ingenious and learned men of his own time ; 39 in 
 consequence of which, and of his cheerful and convivial habits, 
 his table 4o for above thirty years exhibited an assemblage of 
 all the talents of Great-Britain and Ireland; there being during 
 that period scarce a person in the three kingdoms distinguished 
 for his attainments in literature or the arts, or for his exer- 
 tions at the bar, in the senate, or the field, who was not 
 
 3 ' He has strongly recommended the same practice to other artists, in his 
 Seventh Discourse, p. 128. 
 
 40 The nocks cccnaque Deum enjoyed at this table, (as Mr. Boswell, in the 
 Dedication prefixed to his admirable Life of Dr. Johnson, has justly described 
 the symposium of our author,) will be long remembered by those who had the 
 happiness to partake of them ; but the remembrance must always be accompanied 
 with regret, when it is considered that the death of their amiable and illustrious 
 host has left a chasm in society, and that no such common centre of union for the 
 accomplished and the learned now exists, or is likely soon to exist, in London. 
 I remember on one occasion to have sat down at Sir Joshua Reynolds's table 
 with fifteen persons, eleven or twelve of whom had made a distinguished figure 
 in the world. 
 
 occasi- 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 occasionally found there. The pleasure and instruction which he 
 derived from such company induced him, in conjunction with 
 Dr. Johnson, to establish what has been called the Literary 
 Club, though its members have never assumed that denomina- 
 tion ; a society which has now subsisted for more than thirty 
 years, and can boast of having had enrolled among them many of 
 the most celebrated characters of the present century. 4 ' 
 
 lit 
 
 41 As Sir Joshua Reynolds was the first proposer and founder of this Club, 
 a short account of it may not be here improper. It was founded in the year 
 1764 ; and the original scheme was, that it should consist of only twelve members, 
 and that they should be men of such talents, and so well known to each other, 
 that any two of them, if they should not happen to be joined by more, might 
 be good company to each other. 
 
 The original members were, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, 
 Dr. Nugent, Mr. Langton, Mr. Chamier, Sir John Hawkins, The Hon. Topham 
 Beauclerk, and Dr. Goldsmith. Mr. Samuel Dyer, Sir Robert Chambers, and Lord 
 Charlemont, were soon afterwards elected. They at first met once a week, 
 on Monday evening, at the Turk's Head in Gerrard-street. In 1772, the Club 
 still consisted of only twelve members. About the year 1775, instead of supping 
 together once a week, they resolved to dine together once a fortnight during 
 the sitting of Parliament ; and on that footing this Society (which has gradually 
 •been increased to thirty-five members, and can never exceed forty) still subsists. 
 They now meet at Parsloe's in St. James's-street. 
 
 The total number of persons who have been members of this Club, is fifty- 
 three. Of these the following twenty-one are dead : Sir J. Reynolds, Dr. 
 Johnson, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Chamier, Mr. Beauclerk, Sir John Hawkins, Mr. 
 Dyer, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Garrick, Lord Ashburton, Dr. Adam Smith, Mr. 
 Colman, Dr. Shipley Bishop of St. Asaph, Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas Warton, 
 Mr. Gibbon, Dr. Hinchlilfe Bishop of Peterborough, Sir William Jones, 
 Mr, Richard Burke, junior, Mr. Boswell, and the Marquis of Bath, 
 
 Vol. L g Th* 
 
I, 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In the fifteen years during which I had the pleasure of living 
 with our author on terms of great intimacy and friendship,, 
 he appeared to me the happiest man I have ever known.. 
 Indeed he acknowledged to a friend in his last illness, that 
 he had been fortunate and happy beyond, the common lot of 
 humanity. The dissipated, the needy, and the industrious, 
 are apt to imagine, that the idle and the rich are the chosen 
 favourites of heaven, and that they alone possess what all 
 mankind are equally anxious to attain : but the genuine source 
 of happiness is virtuous employment, pursued with ardour, 
 and regulated by our own choice. Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
 constantly employed in a lucrative profession, the study and 
 practice of which afforded him inexhaustible entertainment, 
 and left him not one idle or languid hour ; and he enjoyed as 
 much fame as the most ambitious candidate for popular appro-; 
 
 The present members are, Mr- Burke,. Mr. Langton, Sir Robert Chambers, 
 Lord Charlemont, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Mr. Fox, Sir Charles Bunbury, 
 Dr. Geo. Fordyce, Sir Joseph Banks, Sir Wm. Scott, Lord Spencer, Mr. Sheridan; 
 Mr. Windham, Mr. Steevens,. Dr. Barnard Bishop of Limerick, Dr. J.. Warton, 
 Dr. Marlay Bishop of Waterford, Lord Ossory, Lord Lucan, Lord Eliot, Sir- 
 William Hamilton, Dr. Burney, Lord Palmerston, Dr. Warren, Lord Macartney, 
 Mr. Courtenay,, the Duke of Leeds r Dr.. Douglas Bishop of Salisbury, Sir 
 Charles Blagden, Major Reynel,. the Rev.. Dr. Farmer, the Hon. Frederick- 
 North, and the writer of this account. They are all placed in the order of 
 jheir constitution and election,, except the person last mentioned, who had th^ 
 honour to be chosen a member in 1782, immediately before Sir William 
 Hamilton. 
 
 1 batiort 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. U 
 
 bation could desire. That he should have been unconscious of the 
 ,very high rank which he held in the publick estimation, and of 
 the extraordinary excellence which he had attained in his art, 
 was not to be expected; but he never shewed any such consci- 
 ousness, and was as perfectly free from vanity and ostentation, as 
 he was from artifice or affectation of any kind. His ardent love of 
 truth, in which respect he was a zealous disciple of Dr. Johnson, 
 and his strong apathy to all false pretensions, and to any thing 
 indirect, artificial, or affected, formed a striking part of his 
 character ; and were indeed, if I do not greatly deceive and 
 flatter myself, the congenial sentiments which principally 
 operated in attaching him to the person to whose province it 
 has fallen to pay this slight tribute to his memory. While 
 engaged in his painting-room, he had the pleasure of seeing 
 and conversing with all the beautiful,* accomplished, and illus- 
 trious characters of his time ; and when not employed in his 
 •art, his hours were generally passed in the most pleasing and 
 enlightened society that London could produce. His mind 
 was never torpid ; but always at work on some topick or 
 other. Of the various characters which presented themselves 
 to him in the mixed companies in which he lived, he was a 
 "nice and sagacious observer, as I have had frequent occasion 
 
 * He had painted, as he once observed to me, two generations of the beauties 
 pf England. 
 
 g % to 
 
%\ SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 to remark ; and I have found among his papers some very- 
 ingenious, though unfinished, observations on the manners and 
 habits of two very eminent men of his acquaintance. He 
 delighted much in marking the dawning traits of the youthful 
 mind, and the actions and bodily movements of young persons ; 
 a circumstance which probably enabled him to portray children 
 with such exquisite happiness and truth. It was one of his- 
 favourite maxims, that all the gestures of children are graceful, 
 and that the reign of distortion and unnatural attitude com- 
 mences with the dancing-master. 
 
 Though from the time of his returning from Italy he was 
 very deaf, 4 ' he contrived, by the aid of an ear-trumpet to par- 
 take of the conversation of his friends with great facility and 
 address ; and such was the placidness of his temper, that what he 
 did not hear, he never troubled those with whom he conversed, to 
 repeat. To this gentle and happy composure of mind, our 
 
 41 In confirmation of this remark, I may produce the testimony of Dr. Johnson* 
 who said to Mr. Boswell, in 1780, that " he knew no man who had passed 
 through life with more observation than Sir Joshua Reynolds." Life of Johnson,, 
 iii. 252. 
 
 43 His deafness was originally occasioned by a cold that he caught in the 
 Vatican, by painting for a long time near a stove, by which the damp vapours 
 of that edifice were attracted, and affected his head. When in company with 
 only one person, he heard very well, -without the aid of a trumpet* 
 
 common 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 common friend Goldsmith alluded, when in describing Sir 
 
 manners j 4 * but taking into our consideration at once the 
 
 than the unfinished delineation of his poetical friend, to which 
 
 44 See Retaliation, a poem by Dr. Goldsmith, in which he has drawn the 
 characters of several of his friends, in the form of epitaphs to be placed on their 
 tombs : 
 
 " Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, 
 
 " He has not left a wiser or better behind : 
 
 " His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 
 
 ** His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
 
 " Still born to improve us in every part, 
 
 41 His pencil our faces,, his manners our heart : 
 
 b To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,— 
 
 " When they judg'd without skill, he was still hard of hearing j 
 
 44 When they talk'd of their Raffaelles, Coreggios, and stuff, 
 
 " He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff." 
 
 ##*##*#**** 
 
 These were the last lines the author wrote. He had written half a line more of 
 :his character, when he was seized with the nervous fever which carried him in 
 a. few days to the grave. He intended to have concluded with his own character. 
 
 I allude. 
 
 3 
 
 The 
 
liv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 The detail of his domestick day, however minute or trifling 
 it may appear at present, will, I am confident, at a future 
 period not be unacceptable. He usually rose about eight 
 o'clock, breakfasted at nine, and was in his painting-room 
 before ten. Here he generally employed an hour on some 
 study, or on the subordinate parts of whatever portrait happened 
 to be in hand ; and from eleven the following five hours were 
 devoted to those who sat for their pictures : with occasionally 
 short intervals, during which he sometimes admitted the visit 
 of a friend. Such was his love of his art, and such his ardour 
 to excel, that he often declared he had, during the greater part 
 of his life, laboured as hard with his pencil, as any mechanick - 
 working at his trade for bread. 45 About two days in each 
 week, during the winter, he dined abroad ; once, and some- 
 times oftener, he had company at home by invitation ; and 
 during the remainder of the week he dined with his family, 
 frequently with the addition of two or three friends. It must 
 not be understood that the days of each week were thus regu- 
 
 An observation made by Dr. Johnson on Pope, is extremely applicable 
 to our author, when employed in his painting-room. " He was one of those 
 tew whose labour is their pleasure : he was never elevated into negligence, nor 
 wearied to impatience ; he never passed a fault uncorrected by indifference, nor 
 quitted it by despair. He laboured his works first to gain reputation; and 
 afterwards to keep it." Lives OF THE PoETS, iv. 163. 
 
 larly 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. lv 
 
 Iarly distributed by a fixed plan ; but this was the general 
 course. In the evenings, when not engaged by the Academy, 
 or in some publick or private assembly, or at the theatre, he 
 was fond of collecting a few friends at home, and joining in 
 a party at whist, which was his favourite game. In conse- 
 quence of being acquainted with a great variety of persons, 
 he frequently collected a company of seven or eight at dinner, 
 in the morning of the day on which they met : as the greater 
 part of his friends were men well known in the world, they 
 seldom found themselves unacquainted with each other ; and 
 these extemporaneous entertainments were often productive of 
 greater conviviality than more formal and premeditated invita- 
 tions. The marked character of his table, I think, was, that 
 though there was always an abundant supply of those 
 elegancies which the season afforded, the variety of the courses, 
 the excellence of the djshes, or the flavour of the burgundy, 
 made the least part of the conversation : though the appetite 
 was gratified by the usual delicacies, and the glass imperceptibly 
 and without solicitation was cheerfully circulated, every thing 
 of this kind appeared secondary and subordinate; and there 
 seemed to be a general, though tacit, agreement among the 
 guests, that mind should predominate over body; that the 
 honours of the turtle and the haunch should give place to the 
 
 feast. 
 
Yn SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 feast of wit, and that for a redundant flow of wine the flow 
 of soul should be substituted. Of a table thus constituted, 
 with such a host, and such guests, who would not wish to 
 participate? 
 
 To enumerate all the eulogies which have been made on 
 our author, would exceed the limits that I have prescribed 
 to myself in this short narrative; but I ought not to omit the 
 testimony borne to his worth by Dr. Johnson, who declared 
 him to be " the most invulnerable man he knew ; whom, if he 
 should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficulty 
 how to abuse."* 6 Johnson's well-known and rigid adherence 
 to truth on all occasions, gives this encomium great additional 
 value. 
 
 He has, however, one claim to praise, which I think it 
 my duty particularly to mention ; because otherwise his merit 
 in this respect might perhaps be unknown to future ages: I 
 mean, the praise to which he is entitled for the rectitude of 
 his judgment concerning those pernicious doctrines, that 
 were made the basis of that Revolution which took place in 
 France not long before his death. Before the publication of Mr. 
 Burke's Reflections on that subject, 47 he had been favoured 
 
 * 6 Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson ; — Dedication. 47 October, 1790. 
 
 with 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 with a perusal of that excellent work, and was lavish in 
 his encomiums upon it. He was indeed never weary of ex- 
 pressing his admiration of the profound sagacity which saw, 
 in their embryo state, all the evils with which this country 
 was threatened by that tremendous convulsion ; he well knew 
 how eagerly all the wild and erroneous principles of government 
 attempted to be established by the pretended philosophers of 
 France, would be cherished and enforced by those turbulent 
 and unruly spirits among us, whom no King could govern, nor no 
 God could please ; 48 and long before that book was written, fre- 
 quently avowed his contempt of those *' Adam- wits," who 
 set at nought the accumulated wisdom of ages, and on all 
 occasions are desirous of beginning the world anew. He did 
 not live to see the accomplishment of almost every one of the 
 
 48 How justly may we apply the immediately following lines of the same great 
 Poet, to those demagogues among us, who since the era above mentioned, have 
 not only on all occasions gratuitously pleaded the cause of the enemies of their 
 country with the zeal of fee'd advocates, hut by every other mode incessantly 
 endeavoured to debase and assimilate this free and happy country to the model of 
 the ferocious and enslaved Republick of France ! 
 
 " These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, 
 
 »' Began to dream they wanted liberty ; 
 
 " And when no rule, no precedent was found 
 
 4t Of MEN, by laws less circumscribed and bound, 
 
 " They led their wild desires to woods and caves, 
 
 " And thought that all but savages were slaves." 
 
 Vol. I. h predictions 
 
lviii SOME ACCOUNT Of 
 
 predictions of the prophetick and philosophical work alluded 
 to : happily for himself he did not live to participate of the 
 gloom which now saddens every virtuous bosom, in consequence 
 of all the civilized States of Europe being shaken to their foun- 
 dations by those '* troubkrs of the poor world's peace" whom? 
 Divine Providence has been pleased to make the scourge of 
 human kind. Gloomy as our prospect is, (on this account 
 alone, 49 ) and great as is the danger with which we are threatened, 
 (I mean internally, for as to external violence, we are fully 
 equal to any force which our assailants can bring against us,) 
 I still cherish a hope that the cloud which hangs over us will 
 be dispersed, and that we have stamina sufficiently strong to 
 resist the pestilential contagion suspended in our atmosphere t 
 and my confidence is founded on the good sense and firmness 
 of my countrymen ; of whom far the greater part, justly valuing 
 
 49 I say, on ihi3 account alone • because in all other respects England is at present 
 in an unparalleled state of wealth and prosperity, though there is a temporary 
 distress occasioned by the want of the ordinary circulating medium of commerce 
 It appears from authentick and indisputable documents, that the trade of England 
 from 1784 to the present time, that is, in twelve years, has doubled ; and thas 
 our Exports in the year 1.796 amounted to thirty millions ; and it is well known 
 that the rate of the purchase of land* contrary to the experience of all former 
 wars, continues nearly as high as it was in the time of the most profound peace. 
 These facts ought to be sounded from one end of England to the other, and 
 furnish a complete answer to all the SEDITIOUS DECLAMATIONS that have been, 
 or shall be, made on this subject. 
 
 the 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. & 
 
 the blessings which they enjoy, will not lightly hazard their 
 loss ; and rather than suffer the smallest part of their inestimable 
 Constitution to be changed, or any one of those detestable 
 principles to take root in this soil, which our domestick and 
 foreign enemies, with such mischievous industry have endea- 
 voured to propagate, will, I trust, risk every thing that is most 
 dear to man. To be fully apprised of our danger, and to shew 
 that we are resolved firmly to meet it, may prove our best 
 security. If, however, at last we must fall, let us fall beneath 
 the ruins of that fabrick, which has been erected by the wisdom 
 and treasure of our ancestors, and which they generously 
 cemented with their blood. 
 
 For a very long period Sir Joshua Reynolds enjoyed an un- 
 interrupted state of good health, to which his custom of paint- 
 ing, standing, (a practice which, I believe, he first introduced,) 
 may be supposed in some degree to have contributed ; at least 
 by this means he escaped those disorders which are incident to 
 a sedentary life. He was indeed in the year 1782 distressed for 
 a short time by a slight paralytick affection ; which, however, 
 made so little impression on him, that in a few weeks he was 
 perfectly restored, and never afterwards suffered any inconve- 
 nience from that malady. But in July 1789, when he had 
 very nearly finished the portrait of lady Beauchamp, (now Mar- 
 
 h 2 chioness 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 chioness of Hertford) the last female portrait he ever painted, 5 * 
 he for the first time perceived his sight so much affected, that 
 he found it difficult to proceed ; and in a few months after- 
 wards, in spite of the aid of the most skilful oculists, he was 
 entirely deprived of the sight of his left eye. After some strug- 
 gles, lest his remaining eye should be also affected, he deter- 
 mined to paint no more; which to him was a very serious 
 misfortune, since he was thus deprived of an employment 
 that afforded him constant amusement, and which he loved 
 much more for its own sake than on account of the great 
 emoluments with which the practice of his art was attended. 
 Still, however, he retained his usual spirits, was amused by- 
 reading, or hearing others read to him, and partook of the soci- 
 ety of his friends with the same pleasure as formerly ; 51 but in 
 
 50 The last two portraits of gentlemen that he painted, were those of the Right 
 Honourable William Windham, and George J. Cholmondeley, Esq. and they 
 are generally thought to be as finely executed as any he ever painted. In this 
 rcspe£l he differed from Titian, whose latter productions are esteemed much 
 inferior to his former works. — He afterwards attempted to finish the portrait of 
 Lord Macartney, for which that nobleman had sat some time before ; but he found 
 himself unable to proceed. 
 
 51 Early in September, 1791, he was in such health and spirits, that in our 
 return to town from Mr. Burke's near Beaconsfield, we left his carriage at the inn 
 at Hayes, and walked five miles on the road, in a warm day, without his complain- 
 ing of any fatigue. He had at that time, though above sixty-eight years of age, 
 the appearance of a man not much beyond fifty, and seemed as likely to live for 
 ten or fifteen years as any of his younger friends. 
 
 3 Oft. 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. fag 
 
 Oct. 1 79 1 , having strong apprehensions that a tumour accom- 
 panied with an inflammation, 51 which took place over the eye 
 that had perished, might affect the other also, he became 
 somewhat dejected. Meanwhile he laboured under a much 
 more dangerous disease, which deprived him both of his wonted 
 spirits and his appetite, though he was wholly unable to ex- 
 plain to his physicians the nature or seat of his disorder. Du- 
 ring this period of great affliction to all his friends, his malady 
 was by many supposed to be imaginary ; and it was 
 conceived, that, if he would but exert himself, he could 
 make it off. This instance, however, may serve to shew, that 
 the patient best knows what he suffers, and that few long com- 
 plain of bodily ailments without an adequate cause ; for at 
 length (but not till about a fortnight before his death) the seat 
 of his disorder was found to be in his liver, the inordinate 
 growth of which, as it afterwards appeared, 53 had incommoded 
 all the functions of life j and of this disease, which he bore 
 with the greatest fortitude and patience, he died, after a confine- 
 ment of near three months, at his house in Leicester-Fields, 
 on Thursday evening, Feb. 23, 1792. 
 
 51 This inflammation, after various applications having been tried in vain, was 
 found to have been occasioned by extravasated blood; and had no connection 
 with the optick nerves. 
 
 n On his body being opened, his liver, which ought to have weighed about five 
 pounds, was found to have increased to an extraordinary size, and to weigh nearly 
 eleven pounds. It was also somewhat schirrous, 
 
 He 
 
Ixii 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 He seemed from the beginning of his illness to have had a 
 pre-sentiment of the fatal termination with which it was finally- 
 attended ; and therefore considered all those symptoms as 
 delusive, on which the ardent wishes of his friends led them to 
 found a hope of his recovery. He however continued to use 
 all the means of restoration proposed by his physicians, and for 
 some time to converse daily with his intimate acquaintance; 
 and when he was at length obliged to confine himself to his 
 bed, awaited the hour of his dissolution, (as was observed by- 
 one of his friends soon after his death) with an equanimity 
 rarely shewn by the most celebrated Christian philosophers. — 
 On Saturday, the 3d of March, his remains were interred in the 
 crypt of the cathedral of St. Paul's, near the tomb of Sir 
 Christopher Wren, with every honour that could be shewn to 
 genius and to worth by a grateful and enlightened nation ; a 
 great number of the most distinguished persons attending the 
 funeral ceremony, and his pall being borne up by three Dukes, 
 two Marquisses, and five other noblemen. 54 
 
 Though 
 
 54 The following account of the ceremonial was written by a friend the day after 
 the funeral, and published in several ot the News-papers. 
 
 " On Saturday last, at half an hour after three o'clock, was interred the body of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, Knt. Doftor of Laws in the Universities of Oxford and 
 Dublin, Principal Painter to his Majesty, President of the Royal Academy of 
 Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, Fellow of the Royal Society, and Fellow 
 of the Society of Antiquaries. 
 
 He 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Ixiii 
 
 Though his friend Dr. Johnson was buried in Westminster- 
 Abbey, and it had been determined to erect a monument to him 
 
 there, 
 
 He was interred in the vast crypt of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, next to the 
 body of Dr. Newton, late Bishop of Bristol, himself an eminent critick in Poetry 
 and Painting, and close by the tomb of the famous Sir Christopher Wren, the 
 architect of that great edifice. 
 
 The body was conveyed on the preceding night to the Royal Academy, according 
 to the express orders ol his Majesty, by a condescension highly honourable to the 
 memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and gratifying to the wishes of that Society of 
 eminent Artists. It lay that night, and until the beginning of the funeral procession, 
 in state, in the Model-Room of the Academy. 
 
 The company who attended the funeral, assembled in the Library and Council 
 Chamber. The Royal Academy in the Exhibition-Room. 
 
 The company consisted of a great number of the most distinguished persons, 
 who were emulous in their desire of paying the last honours to the remains of him, 
 whose life had been distinguished by the exertions of the highest talents, and the 
 exercise of every virtue that can make a man respected and beloved. Many more 
 were prevented by illness, and unexpected and unavoidable occasions, which they 
 much regretted, from attending. 
 
 Never was a publick solemnity conducted with more order, decorum, and dignity. 
 The procession set out at half an hour after twelve o'clock. The hearse arrived at 
 the great western gate of St. Pauls* about a quarter after two, and was there met by 
 the Dignitaries of the Church, and by the Gentlemen of the Choir, who chaunted 
 the proper Psalms, whilst the procession moved to the entrance of the choir, where 
 was performed, in a superior manner, the full choir-evening-service, together with 
 the famous Anthem, of Dr. Boyce ; the body remaining during the whole time in 
 the centre of the choir. 
 
 The Chief Mourner and Gentlemen of the Academy, as of the family, were 
 placed by the Body. The Chief Mourner in a chair at the head ; the two attendants 
 at the feet^ the Pall-Bearers and Executors in the seats on the decanal side; the 
 other Noblemen and Gentlemen on the cantorial side. The Bishop of London was 
 in his proper place, as were the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs. 
 
 After the service, the body was conveyed into the crypt, and placed immediately 
 1 beneath 
 
 \ 
 
 » 
 
Ixiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUN T OF 
 
 there, so desirous was Sir Joshua Reynolds that St. Paul's should 
 be decorated by Sculpture, whieh he thought would be highly 
 
 beneficial 
 
 beneath the perforated brass-plate, under the centre of the dome. Dr. Jefferies^ 
 Canon Residentiaiy, with the other Canons, and the whole Choir, came under the 
 dome; the grave-digger attending in the middle with a shovel -of mould, which at 
 the proper time was thrown through the aperture of the plate, on the coffin. The 
 funeral service was chaunted, and accompanied on the organ in a grand and 
 affecting manner. When the funeral service was ended, the Chief Mourners 
 and Executors went into the crypt, and attended the corpse to the grave, which 
 was dtig under the pavement. 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs honoured the procession by coming to Somerset- 
 Place, where an officer's guard of thirty men was placed at the great Court -gate. 
 After the procession had passed through Temple-Bar, the gates were shut by order 
 of the Lord Mayor, to prevent any interruption from carriages passing to or from 
 the City. 
 
 The spectators, both in the church and in the street, were innumerable. The 
 shops were shut, the windows of every house were filled, and the people in the 
 streets, who seemed to fhare in the general sorrow, beheld the whole with respect 
 and silence. 
 
 The Order of the Procession was as follows : 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, and City Marshals, 
 
 The undertaker and ten conductors, on horseback. 
 
 A lid with plumes of feathers. 
 
 The HEARSE with six horses. 
 
 Ten pall bearers, viz. 
 
 The Duke of Dorset, Lord High Steward of his Majesty's Household. 
 
 Duke of Leeds. 
 
 Duke of Portland. 
 
 Marquis Townsend. 
 
 Marquis of Abercorn. 
 
 Earl of Carlisle. 
 
 Earl of Inchiquin. 
 
 Earl of Upper-Ossory 
 
 Lord 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. kv 
 
 beneficial to the Arts, 51 that he prevailed on those who were as- 
 sociated with him in the management of Johnson's monument, 56 
 
 to 
 
 Lord Viscount Palmerston. 
 Lord Eliot. 
 
 Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. Chief Mourner. 
 
 Two Attendants of the Family. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke. > 
 
 Edmond Malone, Esq. > Executors, 
 
 Philip Metcalfe, Esq. J 
 
 The Royal Academicians, and Students. 
 
 Bennet Langton, Esq. (Professor of ancient literature,) James Boswell, Esq, 
 
 (Secretary for foreign correspondence.) 
 The Lord Archbishop of Yoik. The Marquis of Buckingham. 
 Earl of Fife. Earl of Carysfort. 
 Lord St. Asaph. Lord Bishop of London. 
 Lord Fortescue. Lord Somers. 
 Lord Lucan. Dean of Norwich. 
 
 Right Hon. William Windham. Sir Abraham Hume, Bart. 
 Sir George Beaumont, Bart. Sir Thomas Dundas, Bart. 
 Sir Charles Bunbury, Bart. Sir William Forbes, Bart. 
 Dr. George Fordyce, Dr. Ash. 
 Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Blagden. 
 
 Sir William Scott, M. P. George Rose, Esq. M. P. 
 
 John Rolle, Esq. M. P. William Weddell, Esq. M. P. 
 
 Reginald PoleCarew, Esq. M. P. Richard Clarke, Esq. 
 
 Matthew Montagu, Esq. M. P. Richard Payne Knight, Esq. M. P. 
 
 Dudley North, Esq. M. P. Charles Townley, Esq. 
 
 Abel Moysey, Esq. John Cleveland, Esq. M. P. 
 
 John Thomas Batt, Esq. Welbore Ellis Agar, Esq. 
 
 Colonel Gwyn, Captain Pole. 
 
 Dr. Laurence, William Seward, Esq. 
 
 James Martin, Esq Drewr, Esq. 
 
 Edward Jerningham, Esq. William Vachel, Esq. 
 Richard Burke, Esq. Thomas Coutts, Esq. 
 John Julius Angerstein, Esq. Edward Gwatkin, Esq. 
 Charles Burney, Esq. John Hunter, Esq. 
 
 Vol. I. i William 
 
Ixvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 to consent that it should be placed in that cathedral ; in which, 
 I know, some of them reluctantly acquiesced. In consequence 
 of the ardour which he expressed on this subject, it was thought 
 proper to deposite his body in the crypt of that magnificent 
 church j which indeed had another claim also to the remains of 
 this great Painter, for in the same ground (though the ancient 
 building constructed upon it has given place to another edifice,) 
 was interred, in the middle of the last century, his great prede- 
 cessor, Sir Anthony Vandyck. 
 
 By his last Will, which was made on the 5th of November, 
 preceding his death, he bequeathed the greater part of his 
 fortune to his niece, Miss Palmer, now Countess of Inchiquin; 
 
 William Cruikshank, Esq. Home, Esq. 
 
 John Philip Kemble, Esq. Joseph Hickey, Esq. 
 Mr. Alderman Boydell, John Devaynes, Esq. 
 Mr. Poggi, Mr. Breda. 
 
 " The company were conveyed in forty-two mourning coaches ; and forty-nine 
 coaches belonging to the Noblemen and Gentlemen attended empty." 
 
 To each of the gentlemen who attended on this occasion, was presented a print 
 engraved by Bartolozzi, representing a female clasping an urn ; accompanied by the 
 Genius of Painting, holding in one hand an extinguished torch, and pointing with 
 the other to a sarcophagus, on the tablet of which is written— 
 Succedet fama, vivusque per ora feretur. 
 
 5J He wished that St. Paul's should be decorated by Paintings as well as 
 Sculpture, and has enlarged on this subject in his " Journey to Flanders," page 80. 
 A scheme of this kind was proposed about the year 1774, and warmly espoused by 
 our Author ; but it was prevented from being carried into execution by Dr. Terrick, 
 then Bishop of London. Since that time, monuments, under certain regulations, 
 have been admitted. 
 
 * 6 Sir William Scott, Mr. Burke, Sir Jofeph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr. Metcalfe, 
 Mr. Bofwell, Mr. Malone. 
 
 ten 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Ixvli 
 
 ten thousand pounds in the funds to her younger sister, Mrs. 
 Gwatkin, the wife of Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. of Killiow, 
 in the County of Cornwall ; a considerable legacy to his friend, 
 the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, with whom he had lived in great 
 intimacy for more than thirty years ; and various memorials to 
 other friends. 57 
 
 5 " To the Earl of Upper-Ossory, any picture of his own painting, remaining 
 undisposed of at his death, that he should choose. 
 To Lord Palmerston, " the second choice." 
 
 To Sir Abraham Hume, Bart. " the choice of his Claude Lorraines." 
 To Sir George Beaumont, Bart, his " Sebastian Bourdon, — the Return of the Arc." 
 To the Duke of Portland, " the Angel Contemplation, — the upper part of the 
 Nativity." 
 
 To Edmond Malone, Philip Metcalfe, James Boswell, Esqrs. and Sir William 
 Scott, [His Majesty's Advocate General,] £.200 each, to be laid out, if they mould 
 think proper, in the purchase of some picture at the sale of his Collection, " to be 
 kept for his sake." 
 
 To the Reverend William Mason, (of whom the world has been deprived while 
 these sheets were passing through the press,) " the Miniature of Milton by Cooper." 
 
 To Richard Burke, junior, Esq. his Cromwell, by Cooper. 
 
 To Mrs. Bunbury, her son's picture ; and to Mrs. Gwyn, " her own picture with 
 a turban." 
 
 To his nephew, William Johnson, Esq. of Calcutta, his watch, &c. 
 
 To his old servant, Ralph Kirkley, (who had lived with him twenty-nine years,} 
 one thousand pounds. 
 
 Of this Will, he appointed Mr. Burke, Mr. Metcalfe, and the present writer, 
 Executors. 
 
 In March, 1795, his fine Collection of Pictures by the Ancient Masters, was 
 sold by Auction for 10319I. 2s. 6d. ; and in April, 1796, various historical and 
 fancy-pieces of his own painting, together with some unclaimed portraits, were 
 sold for 4505I. 18s. His very valuable Collection of Drawings and Prints yet 
 remains to be disposed of. 
 
 i % To 
 
Ixviii SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 To the brief enumeration that has been given of the various 
 qualities which rendered him at once so distinguished an ornament 
 and so valuable a member of society, it is almost needless 
 to add, that the death of this great Painter, and most amiable 
 man, was not less a private loss, than a publick misfortune ; 
 and that however that loss may have been deplored by his 
 numerous friends, by none of them was it more deeply felt, 
 than by him, to whom the office of transmitting to posterity 
 this imperfect memorial of his talents and his virtues has 
 devolved. 
 
 Its imperfection however will, I trust, be amply compen- 
 sated by the following characteristick eulogy, in which the 
 hand of the great master, and the affectionate friend, is so 
 visible, that it is scarcely neccessary to inform the reader that it was 
 written by Mr. Burke, not many hours after the melancholy 
 event which it commemorates, had taken place: 
 
 ****** 
 tl His illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheerful 
 " fortitude, without the least mixture of any thing irritable, or 
 " querulous, agreeably to the placid and even tenourof his whole 
 *« life. He had, from the beginning of his malady, a distinct 
 " view of his dissolution ; and he contemplated it with that entire 
 " composure, which nothing but the innocence, integrity, and 
 
 " usefulness 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. i x { x 
 
 " usefulness of his life, and an unaffected submission to the will 
 " of Providence, could bestow. In this situation he had every 
 " consolation from family tenderness which his own kindness had 
 " indeed well deserved. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many accounts, one of 
 " the most memorable men of his time. He was the first 
 " Englishman, who added thepraise of the elegant arts totheother 
 *' glories of his country. In taste, in grace, in facility, in happy 
 " invention, and in the richness and harmony of colouring, he 
 " was equal to the great masters of the renowned ages. In Por- 
 " trait he went beyond them; for he communicated to that 
 " description of the art, in which English artists are the mod 
 " engaged, a variety, a fancy, and a dignity derived from the 
 " higher branches, which even those who professed them in a 
 " superior manner, did not always preserve, when they delineated 
 " individual nature. His Portraits remind the spectator of the 
 " invention of history, and the amenity of landscape. In 
 " painting portraits, lie appeared not to be raised upon that 
 *' platform, but to descend to it from a higher sphere. His 
 '* paintings illustrate his lessons, and his lessons seem to be 
 '* derived from his paintings. 
 
 " He possessed the theory as perfectly as the practice of 
 his art. To be such a painter, he was a profound and pene- 
 11 trating philosopher. 
 
 3 " In 
 
Ixx 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 " In full afrluence of foreign and domestick fame, admired by 
 *' the expert in art, and by the learned in science, courted by the 
 M great, caressed by Sovereign Powers, and celebrated by distin- 
 " guished poets, 58 his native humility, modesty, and candour, 
 " never forsook him, even on surprise or provocation; nor Was 
 " the least degree of arrogance or assumption visible -to the most 
 " scrutinizing eye, in any part of his conduct or discourse. 
 
 "His talents of every kind, powerful from nature, and not 
 " meanly cultivated by letters, his social virtues in all the 
 
 58 Goldsmith, Mason, T. Warton, &c. — The encomiums on our author in 
 prose, are not less numerous. When the Discourses were mentioned in a former 
 page, I did not recollect that they have been very highly commended by my 
 learned and ingenious friend, Dr. Joseph Warton, one of the few yet left among 
 us, of those who began to be distinguished in the middle of the present century, 
 soon after the death of Pope, and may now therefore be considered as the ultimi 
 Romanorum. The praise of so judicious a critick being too valuable to be omitted, 
 I shall introduce it here : 
 
 " One cannot forbear reflecting on the great progress the Art of Painting has 
 made in this country, since the time that Jervas was thought worthy of this pane- 
 gyrick : (Pope's Epistle to that Painter, in 1716:) a progress, that, we trust, will 
 daily increase, if due attention be paid to the incomparable Discourses that have 
 been delivered at the Royal Academy ; which Discourses contain more solid 
 instruction on that subject, than, I verily think, can be found in any language. 
 The precepts are philosophically founded on truth and nature, and illustrated with 
 the most proper and pertinent examples. The characters are drawn with a precision 
 and distinctness, that we look for in vain in Felibien, De Piles, and even Vasari, 
 or Pliny himself. Nothing for example can be more just and elegant, as well as 
 profound and scientifick, than the comparison between Michael Angelo and Raffaelle 
 in the fifth of these Discourses. Michael Angelo is plainly the hero of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, for the same reason that Homer by every great mind is preferred to 
 Virgil." Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, ii. 394. 
 
 relations 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ] xx i 
 
 4< relations and all the habitudes of life, rendered him the centre 
 " of a very great and unparalleled variety of agreeable societies, 
 " which will be dissipated by his death. He had too much merit 
 *■' not to excite some jealousy, too much innocence to provoke 
 M any enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be felt with 
 u more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow. 
 
 " hail! and farewell!" 
 
 Queen-Anne-Street, East, 
 March 25, 1797. 
 
SIR 
 
 JOSHUA 
 
 REYNOLDS. 
 
 Ixxiii 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTE. 
 Page liii. — the mitis sapientia Ladi 
 
 Even the classical reader may not perhaps immediately recollect in how many 
 points these two celebrated persons resemble each other. Each of them certainly 
 had some qualifications, to which the other had no pretensions ; as Laelius knew 
 nothing of painting, so our author had no claim either to the character of a military 
 commander, or a distinguished orator. But the qualities which they possessed in 
 common, are so numerous, as fully to justify the present juxta-position. 
 
 The portrait of Laelius has been drawn by Mr. Melmoth, with his usual fidelity. 
 " He seems (says that very elegant writer) to have united in his character, 
 whether considered in a moral, a civil, or a philosophical view, all those talents of 
 the mind and qualities of the heart, that could justly recommend him to the general 
 
 esteem of his own times, and transmit his name with honour to posterity. There 
 
 was a politeness and affability in his address, a sprightliness and vivacity in his 
 conversation, together with a constant equality in his temper, that wonderfully 
 recommended him to all those with whom he had any connection ; insomuch that 
 what was observed of Socrates, was equally remarked in Ladius, that he always 
 appeared with a serene and placid countenance." 
 
 '* To the advantages of these captivating manners, were added the ornaments 
 of a most cultivated and improved understanding : he was not only one of the 
 finest gentlemen, but of the first orators, and the most elegant scholars of the age. 
 Laelius and Scipio indeed, united as they were by genius and talents, no less than 
 by esteem and affection, equally conspired in refining the taste, and encouraging 
 the literature of their countrymen. They were the patrons, after having been the 
 disciples of Panaetius and Polybius ; and both the philosopher and the historian 
 had the honour and happiness of constantly sharing with them those hours that were 
 not devoted to the publick service. But the severer muses did not entirely engross 
 those intervals of leisure, which these illustrious friends occasionally snatched from 
 the great business of the state : Terence and Lucilius were frequently admitted into 
 these parties ; where wit and wisdom jointly conspired to render the conversation 
 at once both lively and instructive." — L^LIUS, or an Ess ay on Friendship, &c. 
 Remarks, p. 168. 
 
 Vol. I. * i The 
 
lxxiv 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 The ingenious writer then proceeds to consider this celebrated person in a 
 political light ; but as it is not here necessary to place him in this point of 
 view, I do not transcribe that part of his encomium. — He has not quoted the 
 authorities on which this representation is founded ; I shall therefore add here 
 such passages (principally from Cicero) as I suppose he had in contemplation, 
 which may serve further to illustrate the character in question : 
 
 " Erat in C. Laslio multa hilaritas ; in ejus familiari Scipione ambitio major, 
 vita tristior." De Off. i. 30. 
 
 " in rebus prosperis, et ad voluntatem nostram fluentibus, superbiam, 
 
 fastidium, arrogantiamque magnopere fugiamus : nam ut adversas res, sic secundas 
 immoderate ferre, levitatis est; praclaraque est cequabilitas in omni vita, et idem, 
 semper vultus, eademque frons ; ut de Socrate, item de C. L.elio accepimus." 
 Ibid. i. 26. 
 
 " Hujusmodi Scipio ille fuit, quern non pcenitebat facere idem quod tu ; habere 
 eruditissimum hominem et pene divinum, [Panaetium] domi ; cujus oratione et 
 praeceptis, quanquam erant eadem ista quae te delectant, tamen asperior non est 
 factus, sed (ut accepi a senibus) lenissimus. Quis vero C. L.elio comior? quis 
 jucundior, eodem ex studio isto ? quis Ulo gravior ? sapientior ?" Orat. pro 
 Murena, 31. 
 
 " Ex hoc esse hunc numero, quern patres nostri viderunt, divinum hominem 
 Africanum ; ex hoc C. L^elium, L. Furiuin, moderatissimos homines et continen- 
 tissimos." Pro. Arch. 7. 
 
 « — Viriatus Lusitanus, cui quidem etiam exercitus nostri imperatoresque cesse- 
 runt ; quern C. LiELlUS, is qui sapiens usurpatur, praetor fregit, et comminuit, 
 ferocitatemque ejus ita repressit, ut lacile bellum reliquis traderet." De Off. ii. 11. 
 
 *' Similemne putas C. L.JELH unum consulatum fuisse, et eum quidem cum 
 repulsa, (si cum sapiens et bonus vir, qualis ille fuit, suffragiis praeteritur, non popu- 
 lus a bono consule potius quam ille a vano populo repulsam fert,) sed tamen utrum 
 nialles te, si potestas esset, semel, ut L.elium, consulem, an ut Cinnam, quater ? 
 Tuscul. v. 19. 
 
 " Ouando enim me in hunc locum deduxit oratio, docebo, meliora me didicisse 
 de colendis diis immortalibus jure pontificio, et majorum more, capedunculis iis 
 quas Numa nobis reliquit, de quibus in ilia aureola oratiuncula dicit L/Euuc, 
 quam rationibus Stoicorum." De Nat. Deor. iii. 17. 
 
 " < '■ ■ itaquf 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 lxxv 
 
 a itaque quos ingenio, quos studio, quos doctrina praeditos vident, quorum 
 
 vitam constantem et probatam, ut Catonis, Lalh, Scipionis, aliorumque plurium, 
 reutur eos esse quales se ipsi velint." Top. eo. 
 
 " Saepe ex socero meo audivi, quum is diceret, socerum suum Laelium semper 
 fere cum Scipione solitum rusticari, eosque incredibiliter repuerascere esse solitos, 
 quum rus ex urbe, tanquam e vinculis, evolavissent. Non audeo dicere de talibuj 
 viris, sed tamen ita solet narrare Scaevola, conchas eos et umbilicos ad Cajetam et 
 ad Laurentum legere consuesse, et adomnem animi remissionem ludumque descen- 
 dere." De Orat. ii. 6. 
 
 An old Scholiast on Horace goes still further, and informs us, that these two great 
 men sometimes indulged themselves in the same kind of boyish playfulness which 
 lias been recorded of the flagitious Cromwell and one of his fellow-regicides : 
 " Scipio Africanus et L.klius feruntur tarn fuisse familiares et amici Lucilio, ut 
 quodam tempore Laelio circum lectos triclinii fugienti Lucilius superveniens, eum 
 obtorta mappA, quasi feriturus, sequeretur." 
 
 " Memoria teneo, Smyrnae me ex P. Rutilio Rufo audisse, quum diceret adolescen- 
 tulo se accidisse, ut ex Senatus consulto P. Scipio et D. Brutus, ut opinor, consules, 
 de re atroci magnaque quaererent. Nam quum in silva Sila facta caedes esset, notique 
 homines interfecti ; insimulareturque familia, partim etiam liberi, societatis ejus, qua; 
 picarias de P. Cornelio, L. Mummio, censorbus, redemisset ; decrevisse senatum, 
 ut de 'ea re cognoscerent et statuerent consules : causam pro publicanis 
 accurate, ut semper solitus esset, eleganterque dixisse Laelium. Quum consules, re 
 audita, amphus de consilii sententia pronuntiavissent, paucis interpositis diebus, 
 iterum Laelium multo diligentius meliusque dixisse; iterumque eodem modo a 
 consulibus rem esse prolatam. Turn Laelium, quum eum socii domum reduxissent, 
 egissentque gratias, et ne defatigaretur oravissent, locutum esse ita ; se quae fecisset, 
 honoris corum causa, studiose, accurateque fecisse; sed se arbitrari causam illam a 
 Scr. Galba, quod is in dicendo Jortior acriorque esset, gravius et vehementius posse 
 defendi. Itaque auctoritate C. Laelii publicanos causam detulisse ad Galbam." 
 — After informing us that Galba pleaded this caufe with great spirit and vigour, and 
 obtained a decision in favour of his clients, Cicero adds — " Ex hac Rutiliana nar- 
 ratione suspicari licet, quum duae summae sint in oratore laudes, una subtiliter 
 disputandi, ad docendum ; altera graviter agendi, ad animos audientium permovendos ; 
 multoque plus proficiat is qui inflammct judicem, quam ille qui doceat ; elegantiam 
 in Laelio, vim in Galba fuisse. - ' Brtt. xxii. 
 
 I - From 
 
Ixxvi 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF, &c. 
 
 From the foregoing paffages, which I have collected with a view to illustrate 
 the character of Laelius, (though some of them may seem not perfectly applicable 
 to the present purpose,) a very competent notion of this celebrated person may be 
 formed ; and I trust that the comparison of these two characters will not appear, like 
 many of Plutarch's, forced and constrained into parallelism. 
 
 If our author was not much inclined to exchange the animated scenes of the 
 metropolis, for the quiet and retirement of the country, yet when he was there, 
 (and indeed in other situations, when not engaged in grave employments,) he was 
 as playful as either Laelius or his illuftrious friend, and would as readily have 
 gathered pebbles on the sea- shore ; and though he was not an orator, if his studies and 
 pursuits had originally led him to a popular profession, and he had been obliged to 
 address a publick assembly, it is clear from his manners and his writings, that in the 
 character of his eloquence he would have resembled the perspicuous and elegant 
 Laelius, rather than the severe and vehement Galba. For the rest, the conformity is 
 greater than at the first view may be supposed. As Laelius was the disciple of 
 Panaetius, and the patron and companion of Lucilius, Sir Joshua Reynolds was the 
 scholar and friend of Johnson, and the friend and patron of Goldsmith. What the 
 illuftrious Scipio was to Laelius, the all-knowing and all-accomplished Burke was to 
 Reynolds. For the pleadings and aureola oratiuncula of the amiable Roman, we 
 have the luminous, I had almoft said, the golden Discourses of our author. As 
 Laelius, admired and respected as he was, was repulsed from the consulate, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, for a short time, was by an unhappy misunderstanding driven from 
 the Presidency of the Academy. — In publick estimation, in uniform success in life, 
 in moderation in prosperity, in the applause and admiration of contemporaries, in 
 simplicity of manners and playfulness of humour, in good sense and elegant 
 attainments, in modefty and equability of temper, in undeviating integrity, in respect 
 for received and long established opinions, in serenity, cheerfulness, and urbanity, 
 the resemblance must be allowed to be uncommonly striking and exact. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FIRST VOLUME* 
 
 DISCOURSE I. 
 The advantages proceeding from the institution of a Royal Academy. 
 — Hints offered to the consideration of the Professors and 
 Visitors ; — that an implicit obedience to the Rules of Art be 
 exacted from the young Students', — that a premature disposition 
 to a masterly dexterity be repressed; — that diligence be constantly 
 recommended, and ( that it may be effectual ) directed to its 
 proper object Page i. 
 
 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 The Course and Order of Study. — The different stages of Art. — 
 Much Copying discountenanced. — The Artist at all times 
 and in all places should be employed in laying up materials for 
 the exercise of his Art P* 1 ?- 
 
 * This table of Contents was drawn up by the Author, (on the Editor's 
 fuggeftion,) a few months before his laft illnefs. 
 
 Vol. I. lc DISCOURSE 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE III. 
 The great leading principles of the Grand Style.— Of Beauty.-— 
 The genuine habits of Nature to be distinguished from those 
 of Fashion P« 35* 
 
 DISCOURSE IV. , 
 General Ideas, the presiding principle which regulates every part 
 of Art; Invention, Expression, Colouring, and Drapery. — 
 Two distinct styles in History-Painting ; the Grand, and the 
 Ornamental. — The Schools in which each is to be found. — The 
 Composite Style. — The Style formed on local customs and habits, 
 or a partial view of nature P* 53* 
 
 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 Circumspection required in endeavouring to unite contrary excel- 
 lencies. — The expression oj a mixed passion not to be attempted. 
 Examples of those who excelled in the Great Style; — Raffaelle, 
 Michael Angelo. Those two extraordinary men compared with 
 each other. — The Characteristical Style. — Salvator Rosa men- 
 tioned as an example of that style ; and opposed to Carlo Maratti. 
 — Sketch of the characters of 'Poussin <37z</Rubens. These two 
 Painters entirely dissimilar, but consistent with themselves. 
 
 This consistency required in all parts of the Art p. 77. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE VI. 
 Imitation. — Genius begins ivhere Rules end. — Invention', — acquired 
 by being conversant with the inventions of others. — The true 
 method of imitating. — Borrowing, how far allowable. — Some- 
 thing to be gathered from every School. 97* 
 
 DISCOURSE VII. 
 The reality of a standard of Taste, as well as of corporal Beauty. 
 Beside this immutable truth, there are secondary truths, which 
 are variable ; both requiring the attention of the Artist, in 
 ■proportion to their stability or their influence p. 127. 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 The Principles of Art, whether Poetry or Painting, have their 
 foundation in the Mind; such as Novelty, Variety, and Contrast ; 
 these in their excess become defects. — Simplicity. Its excess 
 disagreeable. — Rules not to be always observed in their literal 
 sense : sufficient to preserve the spirit of the law. — Observations 
 on the Prize-Pictures p. 165. 
 
 DISCOURSE IX. 
 On the removal of the Royal Academy to Somerset-Place. — The 
 advantages to society from cultivating intellectual pleasure, p. 195. 
 
 ka DISCOURSE 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE X. 
 Sculpture.*— Has but one style. — Its objects, form, and character. 
 
 — Ineffectual attempts of the modern Sculptors to improve 
 the art. — /// effects of modern dress in Sculpture. . . . p. 2,01. 
 
 DISCOURSE XI. 
 Genius. — Consists principally in the comprehension of A whole; 
 in taking general ideas only p. 221. 
 
 DISCOURSE XII. 
 Particular methods of study of little consequence. — Little of the 
 art can be taught. — Love of method often a love of idleness. 
 Pittori improvvisatori apt to be careless and incorrect ; 
 seldom original and striking. This proceeds from their not 
 studying the works of other masters p. 243. 
 
 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 Art not merely imitation , but under the direction of the Imagination. 
 In what manner Poetry, Painting, AEling, Gardening, and 
 Architecture, depart from Nature p. 269. 
 
 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 Character of Gainsborough ; — his excellencies and defects, p . 293. 
 1 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DISCOURSE XV. 
 The President takes leave of the Academy. — A Review of the 
 Discourses. — The study of the Works of Michael Angelo recom- 
 mended. p. 315. 
 
 The Idler, No. 76. — False Criticisms on Painting. . . p. 349. 
 
 79. — The Grand Style of Painting. . . p. 353. 
 
 ■ ■ 82. — The true idea of Beauty. ... p. 357, 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 In the Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 
 Page v. 1. 6. dele early. 
 
 . . . viii. n. 8. for 1795, r. 1796. 
 
 . . .xv. I.9, After Rome, add, — This Caricatura, however, was not like the 
 more modern productions in the same style, being done with 
 the consent of the gentlemen represented. It was a kind of 
 picturesque travesty of RafFaelle's School of Athent. 
 
 . . . xlii. 1. 7. from bottom, for fifty-three, r. fifty-four. 
 
 Page 40. 1. ult. After had, r. spent, 
 
 ... 57. I. 1. r. must sometimes. 
 
 . . . 107. 1. 8. from bottom, for meist, r. meis. 
 
 . . . 300. 1. 1 2. for Ry/dale, r. Ruysdaal. 
 
 . . . 311. 1. 7. from bottom, after excuttd, put a femicolon, instead of a note of 
 interrogation. 
 
DISCOURSE I. 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 JANUARY 2, 1769. 
 
 Vol I. 
 
 B 
 
T © 
 
 THE MEMBERS 
 
 O F 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 r I ^HAT you have ordered the publication of 
 this discourse, is not only very flattering to 
 me, as it implies your approbation of the method 
 of study which I have recommended ; but likewise, 
 as this method receives from that acl such an ad- 
 ditional weight and authority, as demands from the 
 Students that deference and respect, which can be 
 
 B 2 due 
 
[ iv ] 
 
 due only to the united sense of so considerable a 
 Body of Artists. 
 
 I am, 
 
 With the greatest esteem and respect., 
 J GENTLEMEN, 
 
 Your most humble, 
 
 and obedient Servant, 
 
 Joshua Reynolds* 
 
DISCOURSE I. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 AN Academy, in which the Polite Arts may be regularly 
 cultivated, is at last opened among us by Royal Mu- 
 nificence. This must appear an event in the highest degree in- 
 teresting, not only to the Artists, but to the whole nation. 
 
 It is indeed difficult to give any other reason, why an empire 
 like that of Britain, should so long have wanted an ornament 
 so suitable to its greatness, than that slow progression of things, 
 which naturally makes elegance and refinement the last effect of 
 opulence and power. 
 
 An Institution like this has often been recommended upon 
 considerations merely mercantile ; but an Academy, founded 
 upon such principles, can never effect even its own narrow pur- 
 poses. If it has an origin no higher, no taste can ever be formed 
 in manufactures ; but if the higher Arts of Design flourish, these 
 inferior ends will be answered of course. 
 
 We are happy in, having a Prince, who has conceived the 
 design of such an Institution, according to its true dignity ; . and 
 who promotes the Arts, as the head of a great, a learned, a po- 
 lite, 
 
6 
 
 DISCOURSE I. 
 
 lite, and a commercial nation ; and I can now congratulate 
 you, Gentlemen, on the accomplishment of your long and ardent 
 wiflies. 
 
 The numberless and ineffectual consultations which I have had 
 with many in this assembly, to form plans and concert schemes for 
 an Academy, afford a sufficient proof of the impossibility of fuc- 
 ceeding but by the influence of Majesty. But there have, 
 perhaps, been times, when even the influence of Majesty 
 would have been ineffectual ; and it is pleasing to reflect, that 
 we are thus embodied, when every circumstance seems to concur 
 from which honour and prosperity can probably arise. 
 
 There are, at this time, a greater number of excellent Artists 
 than were ever known before at one period in this nation ; there 
 is a general desire among our Nobility to be distinguished as lo- 
 vers and judges of the Arts ; there is a greater superfluity of 
 wealth among the people to reward the professors ; and, above 
 all, we are patronized by a Monarch, who, knowing the value 
 of science and of elegance, thinks every Art worthy of his notice, 
 that tends to soften and humanise the mind. 
 
 After so much has been done by His Majesty, it will be 
 wholly our fault, if our progress is not in some degree corre- 
 spondent to the wisdom and generosity of the Institution : let us 
 shew our gratitude in our diligence, that, though our merit may 
 not answer his expectations, yet, at least, our industry may de- 
 serve his protection. 
 
 But 
 
DISCOURSE I. 7 
 
 But whatever may be our proportion of success, of this we 
 may be sure, that the present Institution will at least contribute 
 to advance our knowledge of the Aits, and bring us nearer to 
 that ideal excellence, which it is the lot of genius always to con- 
 template and never to attain. 
 
 The principal advantage of an Academy is, that, beside fur- 
 nishing able men to direct the Student, it will be a repository for 
 the great examples of the Art. These are the materials on which 
 Genius is to work,, and without which the strongest intellect may 
 befruitlesly or deviously employed. By studying these authentick 
 models, that idea of excellence which; is the result of the accu- 
 mulated experience of past ages, may be at once acquired; and the 
 tardy and obstructed progress of our predecessors may teach us a 
 shorter and easier way. The Student receives, at one glance, the 
 principles which many Artists have spent their whole lives in 
 ascertaining ; and, satisfied with their effect, is spared the painful 
 investigation by which they came to be known and fixed. How 
 many men of great natural abilities have been lost to this 
 nation, for want of these advantages ! They never had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing those masterly efforts of genius, which at once 
 kindle the whole soul, and force it into sudden and irresistible 
 approbation. 
 
 Raffaelle,. it is true y had not the advantage of studying in 
 an Academy; but all Rome, and the works of Michael An- 
 gelo in particular, were to him an Academy. On the sight of 
 the Capella Sistina, he immediately from a dry, Gothick, 
 and even insipid manner, which attends to the minute acciden- 
 -? tal 
 
8 DISCOURSE I. 
 
 tal discriminations of particular and individual objects, assumed 
 that grand style of painting, which improves partial representa- 
 tion by the general and invariable ideas of nature. 
 
 ~) 
 
 Every seminary of learning may be said to be surrounded 
 with an atmosphere of floating knowledge, where every mind 
 may imbibe somewhat congenial to its own original conceptions. 
 Knowledge, thus obtained, has always something more popular 
 and useful than that which is forced upon the mind by private 
 precepts, or solitary meditation. Besides, it is generally found, 
 that a youth more easily receives instruction from the companions 
 of his studies, whofe minds are nearly on a level with his own, 
 than from those who are much his superiors ; and it is from his 
 equals only that he catches the fire of emulation. 
 
 One advantage, I will venture to affirm, we shall have in our 
 Academy, which no other nation can boast. We shall have no- 
 thing to unlearn. To this praise the present race of Artists have a 
 just claim. As far as they have yet proceeded, they are right. 
 With us the exertions of genius will henceforward be directed 
 to their proper objects. It will not be as it has been in other 
 schools, where he that travelled fastest, only wandered farthest 
 from the right way. 
 
 Impressed, as I am, therefore, with such a favourable opi- 
 nion of my associates in this undertaking, it would ill become 
 me to dictate to any of them. But as these Institutions have fo 
 often failed in other nations ; and as it is natural to think with 
 regret, how much might have been done, I muft take leave to 
 
 offer 
 
DISCOURSE I. 9 
 
 offer a few hints, by which those errors may be rectified, and those 
 defects supplied. These the Professors and Visitors may reject or 
 adopt as they shall think proper. 
 
 I would chiefly recommend, that an implicit obedience to 
 the Rules of Art t as established by the practice of the great Mas- 
 ters, should be exacted from the young Students. That those 
 models, which have passed through the approbation of ages, should 
 be considered by them as perfect and infallible guides ; as subjects 
 for their imitation, not their criticism. 
 
 I am confident, that this is'the only efficacious method of making 
 a progress in the Arts ; and that he who sets out with doubting, 
 will find life finished before he becomes master of the rudiments. 
 For it may be laid down as a maxim, that he who begins by pre- 
 suming on his own sense, has ended his studies as soon as he has 
 commenced them. Every opportunity, therefore, should be taken 
 to discountenance that false and vulgar opinion, that rules are the 
 fetters of genius. They are fetters only to men of no genius ; 
 as that armour, which upon the strong is an ornament and a de- 
 fence, upon the weak and mis-shapen becomes a load, and cripples 
 the body which it was made to protect. 
 
 How much liberty may be taken to break through those 
 rules, and, as the Poet expresses it, 
 
 To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, 
 
 may be a subsequent consideration, when the pupils become masters 
 themselves. It is then, when their genius has received its utmost 
 Vol. I. C improvement, 
 
io DISCOURSE I. 
 
 improvement, that rules may possibly be dispensed with. But let 
 us not destroy the scaffold, until we have raised the building. 
 
 The Directors ought more particularly to watch over the ge- 
 nius of those Students, who, being more advanced, are arrived at 
 that critical period of study, on the nice management of which 
 their future turn of taste depends. At that age it is natural for 
 them to be more captivated with what is brilliant than with what is 
 solid, and to prefer splendid negligence to painful and humiliating 
 exactness. 
 
 A facility in composing, — a lively, and what is called a mas- 
 terly, handling of the chalk or pencil, are, it must be confessed, 
 captivating qualities to young minds, and become of course the 
 objects of their ambition. They endeavour to imitate those daz- 
 zling excellencies, which they will find no great labour in attain- 
 ing. After much time spent in these- frivolous pursuits, the diffi- 
 culty will be to retreat ; but it will be then too late; and there 
 is scarce an instance of return to scrupulous labour, after the mind 
 has been debauched and deceived by this fallacious mastery. 
 
 By this useless industry they are excluded from all power of ad- 
 vancing in real excellence. Whilst boys, they are arrived at their 
 utmost perfection ; they have taken the shadow for the substance ; 
 and make the mechanical felicity, the chief excellence of the art, 
 which is only an ornament, and of the merit of which few but 
 painters themselves are judges. 
 
 This 
 
DISCOURSE I. ii 
 
 This seems to me to be one of the most dangerous sources of 
 .corruption; and I speak of it from experience, not as an error 
 which may possibly happen, but which has actually infected all fo- 
 reign Academies. The directors were probably pleased with this 
 premature dexterity in their pupils, and praised their dispatch at 
 the expence of their correctness. 
 
 But young men have not only this frivolous ambition of be- 
 ing thought masters of execution, inciting them on one hand, 
 but also their natural sloth tempting them on the other. They 
 are terrified at the prospett before them, of the toil required to 
 attain exactness. The impetuosity o£-youth is disgusted at the 
 slow approaches of a regular siege, ajJd desires, from mere impa- 
 tience of labour, to take the citadel by storm. They wish to find 
 some shorter path to es&ellence, and hope to obtain the reward of 
 eminence by other means, than those which the indispensible rules 
 of art have prescribed. They must therefore be told again and 
 again, that labour is the only price of solid fame, and that what- 
 ever their force of genius may be, there is no easy method of be- 
 coming a good Painter. 
 
 When we read the lives of the most eminent Painters, every 
 page informs us, that no part of their time was spent in dissipa- 
 tion. Even an increase of fame served only to augment their 
 industry. To be convinced with what persevering assiduity they 
 pursued their studies, we need only reflect on their method of pro- 
 ceeding in their most celebrated works. When they conceived a 
 subject, they first made a variety, of sketches ; then a finished 
 drawing of the whole; after that a more correct drawing of every 
 
 Cz. separate 
 
DISCOURSE I. 
 
 separate part, — heads, hands, feet, and pieces of drapery ; they 
 then painted the picture, and after all re-touched it from the life. 
 The pictures, thus wrought with such pains, now appear like the 
 effect of enchantment, and as if some mighty Genius had struck 
 them off at a blow. 
 
 But, whilst diligence is thus recommended to the Students, the 
 Visitors will take care that their diligence be effectual ; that it be 
 well directed, and employed on the proper object. A Student 
 is not always advancing because he is employed ; he must ap- 
 ply his strength to that part of the art where the real difficulties 
 lie; to that part which distinguishes it as a liberal art 3 and not 
 by mistaken industry lose his time in that which is merely orna- 
 mental. The Students, inftead of vying with each other which 
 shall have the readiest hand, should be taught to contend who 
 shall have the pureft and most correct out line; instead of striv- 
 ing which shall produce the brightest tint, or, curiously trifling, 
 shall give the gloss of stuffs, so as to appear real, let their ambi- 
 tion be directed to contend, which shall dispose his drapery in the 
 most graceful folds, which shall give the most grace and dignity to 
 the human figure. 
 
 I must beg leave to submit one thing more to the considera- 
 tion of the Visitors, which appears to me a matter of very great 
 consequence, and the omission of which I think a principal de- 
 fect in the method of education pursued in all the Academies I 
 have ever visited. The error I mean is, that the Students never 
 draw exactly from the living models which they have before 
 them. It is not indeed their intention ; nor are they directed to 
 2 do 
 
DISCOURSE I. 13 
 
 do it. Their drawings resemble the model only in the attitude. 
 They change the form according to their vague and uncertain ideas 
 of beauty, and make a drawing rather of what they think the 
 figure ought to be, than of what it appears. I have thought 
 this the obstacle, that has stopped the progress of many young men 
 of real genius ; and I very much doubt, whether a habit of 
 drawing correctly what we see, will not give a proportionable power 
 of drawing correctly what we imagine. He who endeavours 
 to copy nicely the figure before him, not only acquires a habit of 
 exactness and precision, but is continually advancing in his know- 
 ledge of the human figure j and though he seems to superficial 
 observers to make a slower progress, he will be found at last ca- 
 pable of adding (without running into capricious wildness) that 
 grace and beauty, which is necessary to be given to his more 
 finished works, and which cannot be got by the moderns, as it was 
 not acquired by the ancients, but by an attentive and well com- 
 pared study of the human form. 
 
 What I think ought to enforce this method is, that it has 
 been the practice (as may be seen by their drawings) of the great 
 Masters in the Art. I will mention a drawing of Raffaelle, 
 The Dispute of the Sacrament , the print of which, by Count Cailus, 
 is in every hand. It appears, that he made his sketch from one 
 model ; and the habit he had of drawing exactly from the form 
 before him appears by his making all the figures with the same 
 cap, such as his model then happened to wear ; so servile a copy- 
 in: was this great man, even at a time when he was allowed to be 
 at his highest pitch of excellence. 
 
 I HAVE 
 
14 DISCOURSE. I. 
 
 I have seen also Academy figures ; by A^ntni bale Caracci, 
 though he was often sufficiently licentious in his finished works, 
 drawn with all the peculiarities of an individual model. 
 
 Tins scrupulous exactness is so contrary to the practice of 
 the Academies, that it is not without great deference, that I 
 beg leave to recommend it to the consideration of the Visitors ; 
 and submit to them, whether the neglect of this method is 
 not one of the reasons why Students fo often disappoint expecta- 
 tion, and, being more than boys at sixteen, become less than 
 men at thirty. 
 
 In short, the method I recommend can only be detri- 
 mental when there are but few living forms to copy ; for then 
 Students, by always drawing from one alone, will by habit be 
 taught to overlook defects, and mistake deformity for beauty. 
 But of this there is no danger; since the Council has determined 
 to supply the Academy with a variety of subjects ; and indeed 
 thofe laws which they have drawn up, and which the Se- 
 cretary will presently read for your confirmation, have in some 
 measure precluded me from saying more upon this occasion. In- 
 stead, therefore, of offering my advice, permit me to indulge my 
 wishes, and express my hope, that this institution may answer 
 the expectations of its Royal Founder ; that the present age 
 may vie in Arts with that of Leo the Tenth ; and that the 
 dignity of the dying Art (to make use of an expression of Pli- 
 ny) may be revived under the Reign of GEORGE THE 
 THIRD. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
ISCOURSE II. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE ' - 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER u, 1769. 
 
DISCOURSE II 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 T Congratulate you on the honour which you have just 
 received. I have the highest opinion of your merits, and 
 could wish to show my sense of them in something which pos- 
 sibly may be more useful to you than barren praise. I could wish 
 to lead you into such a course of study as may render your future 
 progress answerable to your past improvement ; and, whilst I ap- 
 plaud you for what has been done, remind you how much yet 
 remains to attain perfection. 
 
 I flatter myself, that from the long experience I have had, and 
 the unceasing assiduity with which I have pursued those studies, 
 in which, like you, I have been engaged, I shall be acquitted of 
 vanity in offering some hints to your consideration. They are 
 indeed in a great degree founded upon my own mistakes in the 
 same pursuit. But the history of errors, properly managed, often 
 shortens the road to truth. And although no method of study 
 that I can offer, will of itself conduct to excellence, yet it may 
 preserve industry from being misapplied. 
 
 Tn speaking to you of the Theory of the Art, I shall only con- 
 sider it as it has a relation to the method of your studies. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 D 
 
 Dividing 
 
18 D I S C O U R S E II. 
 
 Dividing the study of painting into three distinct periods, I 
 shall address you as having passed through the first of them, 
 which is confined to the rudiments ; including a facility of draw- 
 ing any object that presents itself, a tolerable readiness in the 
 management of colours, and an acquaintance with the most simple 
 and obvious rules of composition. 
 
 This first degree of proficiency is, in painting, what gram- 
 mar is in literature, a general preparation for whatever species of 
 the art the student may afterwards choose for his more particular 
 application. The power of drawing, modelling, and using co- 
 lours, is very properly called the Language of the art ; and in 
 this language, the honours you have just received, prove you to 
 have made no inconsiderable progress. 
 
 When the Artist is once enabled to express himself with some 
 degree of correctness, he must then endeavour to collect subjects 
 for expression j to amass a stock of ideas, to be combined and 
 varied as occasion may require. He is now in the second period 
 of study, in which his business is to learn all that has been known 
 and done before his own time. Having hitherto received in- 
 structions from a particular master, he is now to consider the Art 
 itself as his master. He must extend his capacity to more sub- 
 lime and general instructions. Those perfections which lie scat- 
 tered among various masters, are now united in one general idea, 
 which is henceforth to regulate his taste, and enlarge his imagi- 
 nation. With a variety of models thus before him, he will 
 avoid that narrowness and poverty of conception which attends a 
 
 3 bigotted 
 
D I S C O U R S E II. i 9 
 
 bigotted admiration of a single master, and will cease to follow any 
 favourite where he ceases to excel. This period is, however, still 
 a time of subjection and discipline. Though the Student will not 
 resign himself blindly to any single authority, when he may have 
 the advantage of consulting many, he must still be afraid of trust- 
 ing his own judgment, and of deviating into any track where he 
 cannot find the footsteps of some former master. 
 
 The third and last period emancipates the Student from sub- 
 jection to any authority, but what he shall himselfjudge to be sup- 
 ported by reason. Confiding now in his own judgment, he will 
 consider and separate those different principles to which different 
 modes of beauty owe their original. In the former period he 
 sought only to know and combine excellence, wherever it was to 
 be found, into one idea of perfection : in this, he learns, what 
 requires the most attentive survey and the moll subtle diquisition, 
 to discriminate perfections that are incompatible with each other. 
 
 He is from this time to regard himself as holding the same 
 rank with those masters whom he before obeyed as teachers ; and 
 as exercising a sort of sovereignty over those rules which have hi- 
 therto restrained him. Comparing now no longer the perform- 
 ances of Art with each other, but examining the Art itself by the 
 standard of Nature, he corrects what is erroneous, supplies what 
 is scanty, and adds by his own observation what the industry of 
 his predecessors may have yet left wanting to perfection. Hav- 
 ing well established his judgment, and stored his memory, he may 
 now without fear try the power of his imagination. The mind 
 
 D 2 that 
 
*o DISCOURSE IL 
 
 that has been thus disciplined, may be indulged in the warmest 
 enthusiasm, and venture to play on the borders of the wildest ex- 
 travagance. The habitual dignity which long converse with the 
 greatest minds has imparted to him, will display itself in all his 
 attempts ; and he will stand among his instructors, not as an imi- 
 tator, but a rival. 
 
 These are the different stages of the Art. But as I now ad- 
 dress myself particularly to those Students who have been this 
 day rewarded for their happy passage through the first period, I 
 can with no propriety suppose they want any help in the initiatory 
 studies. My present design is to direct your view to distant 
 excellence, and to show you the readiest path that leads to it. Of 
 this I shall speak with such latitude, as may leave the province of 
 the professor uninvaded ; and shall not anticipate those precepts, 
 which it is his business to give, and your duty to understand. 
 
 It is indisputably evident that a great part of every man's 
 life must be employed in collecting materials for the exercise of 
 genius. Invention, strictly speaking, is little more than a new 
 combination of those images which have been previously gathered 
 and deposited in the memory : nothing can come of nothing : he 
 who has laid up no materials, can produce no combinations. 
 
 A Student unacquainted with the attemps of former adven- 
 turers, is always apt to over-rate his own abilities ; to mistake the 
 most trifling excursions for discoveries of moment, and every coast 
 new to him, for a new-found country. If by chance he passes 
 
 beyond 
 
DISCOURSE II. 21 
 
 beyond his usual limits, he congratulates his own arrival at those 
 regions which they who have steered a better course have long 
 left behind them. 
 
 The productions of such minds are seldom distinguished by an 
 air of originality : they are anticipated in their happiest efforts ; 
 and if they are found to differ in any thing from their predecessors, 
 it is only in irregular sallies, and trifling conceits. The more ex- 
 tensive therefore your acquaintance is with the works of those who 
 have excelled, the more extensive will be your powers of invention ; 
 and what may appear still more like a paradox, the more original 
 will be your conceptions. But the difficulty on this occasion is 
 to determine who ought to be proposed as models of excellence, 
 and who ought to be considered as the properest guides. 
 
 To a young man just arrived in Italy, many of the present 
 painters of that country are ready enough to obtrude their precepts, 
 and to offer their own performances as examples of that perfec- 
 tion which they affect to recommend. The Modern, however, 
 who recommends himself as a standard, may justly be suspected as 
 ignorant of the true end, and unacquainted with the proper ob- 
 ject, of the art which he professes. To follow such a guide, will 
 not only retard the Student, but mislead him. 
 
 On whom then can he rely, or who shall show him the path 
 that leads to excellence ? the answer is obvious : those great 
 masters who have travelled the same road with success, are the 
 most likely to conduct others. The works of those who have 
 
 stood 
 
22 D I S C O U R S E II. 
 
 stood the test of ages, have a claim to that respect and veneration 
 to which no modern can pretend. The duration and stability of 
 their fame, is sufficient to evince that it has not been suspended 
 upon the slender thread of fashion and caprice, but bound to the 
 human heart by every tie of sympathetick approbation. 
 
 There is no danger of studying too much the works of 
 those great men ; but how they may be studied to advantage is 
 -an enquiry of great importance. 
 
 Some who have never raised their minds to the consideration of 
 the real dignity of the Art, and who rate the works of an Artist 
 in proportion as they excel or are defective in the mechanical parts, 
 look on theory as something that may enable them to talk but not 
 to paint better ; and confining themselves entirely to mechanical 
 practice, very assiduously toil on in the drudgery of copying j and 
 think they make a rapid progress while they faithfully exhibit the 
 minutest part of a favourite picture. This appears to me a very 
 tedious, and I think a very erroneous method of proceeding. Of 
 every large composition, even of those which are most admired, a 
 great part may be truly said to be common-place . This, though it 
 takes up much time in copying, conduces little to improvement. 
 I consider general copying as a delusive kind of industry ; the 
 Student satisfies himself with the appearance of doing something ; 
 he falls into the dangerous habit of imitating without selecting, 
 and of labouring without any determinate object ; as it requires 
 no effort of the mind, he sleeps over his work ; and those pow- 
 ers of invention and composition which ought particularly to be 
 
 called 
 
D I S C O U R S E U. 23 
 
 called out, and put in action, lie torpid, and lose their energy for 
 want of exercise. 
 
 How incapable those are of producing any thing of their own, 
 who have spent much of their time in making finished copies, is 
 well known to all who are conversant with our art. 
 
 To suppose that the complication of powers, and variety of 
 ideas necessary to that mind which aspires to the first honours 
 in the art of Painting, can be obtained by the frigid contempla- 
 tion of a few single models, is no lefs absurd, than it would be in 
 him who wishes to be a Poet, to imagine that by translating a 
 tragedy he can acquire to himself sufficient knowledge of the ap- 
 pearances of nature, the operations of the passions, and the in- 
 cidents of life. 
 
 The great use in copying, if it be at all useful, should seem to 
 be in learning to colour ; yet even colouring will never be per- 
 fectly attained by servilely copying the model before you. An 
 eye critically nice can only be formed by observing well -coloured 
 pictures with attention : and by close inspection, and minute ex- 
 amination, you will discover, at last, the manner of handling, the 
 artifices of contrast, glazing, and other expedients, by which good 
 colourists have raised the value of their tints, and by which na- 
 ture has been so happily imitated. 
 
 I must inform you, however, that old pictures deservedly 
 celebrated for their colouring, are often so changed by dirt and 
 varnish, that we ought not to wonder if they do not appear equal 
 
 to 
 
24 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 to their reputation in the eyes of unexperienced painters, or young 
 students. An artist whose judgment is matured by long observa- 
 tion, considers rather what the picture once was, than what it is 
 at present. He has by habit acquired a power of seeing the bril- 
 liancy of tints through the cloud by which it is obscured. An 
 exact imitation, therefore, of thofe pictures, is likely to fill the 
 student's mind with false opinions ; and to send him back a 
 colourist of his own formation, with ideas equally remote from 
 nature and from art, from the genuine practice of the masters, and 
 the real appearances of things. 
 
 Following these rules, and using these precautions, when 
 you have clearly and distinctly learned in what good colouring 
 consists, you cannot do better than have recourse to nature herself, 
 who is always at hand, and in comparison of whose true splendour 
 the best coloured pictures are but faint and feeble. 
 
 However, as the practice of copying is not entirely to be 
 excluded, since the mechanical practice of painting is learned in 
 some measure by it, let those choice parts only be selected which 
 have recommended the work to notice. If its excellence con- 
 sists in its general effect, it would be proper to make slight 
 sketches of the machinery and general management of the picture. 
 Those sketches should be kept always by you for the regulation of 
 your stile. Instead of copying the touches of those great masters, 
 copy only their conceptions. Instead of treading in their foosteps, 
 endeavour only to keep the same road. Labour to invent on their 
 general principles and way of thinking. Possess yourself with 
 their spirit. Consider with yourself how a Michael Angelo 
 
 or 
 
DISCOURSE II. 45 
 
 or a Raffaelle would have treated this subject : and work 
 yourself into a belief that your picture is to be seen and criticised 
 by them when completed. Even an attempt of this kind will 
 roufe your powers. 
 
 But as mere enthusiasm will carry you but a little way, let mc 
 recommend a practice that may be equivalent to and will perhaps 
 more efficaciously contribute to your advancement, than even the 
 verbal corrections of those masters themselves, could they be ob-. 
 tained. What I would propose is, that you should enter into a 
 kind of competition, by painting a similar subject, and making a 
 companion to any picture that you consider as a model. After 
 you have finished your work, place it near the model, and com- 
 pare them carefully together. You will then not only see, but 
 feel your own deficiencies more sensibly than by precepts, or any 
 other means of instruction. The true principles of painting will 
 mingle with your thoughts. Ideas thus fixed by sensible objects* 
 will be certain and definitive; and sinking deep into the mind, 
 will not only be more just, but more lasting than those presented 
 to you by precepts only ; which will always be fleeting, variable, 
 and undetermined. 
 
 This method of comparing your own efforts with those of 
 some great master, is indeed a severe and mortifying task, to 
 which none will submit, but such as have great views, with for-' 
 titude sufficient to forego the gratifications of present vanity for 
 future honour. When the Student has succeeded in some measure 
 to his own satisfaction, and has felicitated himself on his success* 
 to go voluntarily to a tribunal where he knows his vanity must be 
 
 Vol. I. B humbled, 
 
26 
 
 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 humbled, and all self-approbation must vanish, requires not only 
 great resolution, but great humility. To him, however, who has 
 the ambition to be a real master, the solid satisfaction which pro- 
 ceeds from a consciousness of his advancement, (of which seeing, 
 his own faults is the first step,) will very abundantly compensate for 
 the mortification of present disappointment. There is, besides, 
 this alleviating circumstance. Every discovery he makes, every 
 acquisition of knowledge he attains, seems to proceed from his 
 own sagacity; and thus he acquires a confidence in himself fuf- 
 ficient to keep up the resolution of perseverance. 
 
 We all must hav£ experienced how lazily, and consequently 
 how ineffectually, instruction is received when forced upon the 
 mind by others. Few have been taught to any purpose who have 
 not been their own teachers. We prefer those instructions which 
 we have given ourselves, from our affection to the instructor ; and 
 they are more effectual, from being received into the mind at the 
 very time when it is moft open and eager to receive them. 
 
 • 
 
 With respect to the pictures that you are to choose for your 
 models, I could wish that you would take the world's opinion 
 rather than your own. In other words, I would have you choose 
 those of established reputation, rather than follow your own fancy. 
 If you should not admire them at firft, you will, by endeavouring 
 to imitate them, find that the world has not been mistaken. 
 
 It is not an easy tafk to point out those various excellencies 
 for your imitation which lie distributed amongst the various 
 schools. An endeavour to do this may perhaps be the subject of 
 
 some 
 
DISCOURSE II. 27 
 
 •some future discourse. I will, therefore, at present only recom- 
 mend a model for Stile in Painting, which is a branch of the art 
 more immediately necessary to the young student. Stile in paint- 
 ing is the same as in writing, a power over materials, whether 
 words or colours, by which conceptions or sentiments are con- 
 veyed. And in this Lodovico Carrache (I mean in his best 
 works) appears to me to approach the nearest to perfection. 
 His unaffected breadth of light and shadow, the simplicity of co- 
 louring, which holding its proper rank, does not draw afide the 
 least part of the attention from the subject, and the solemn effect 
 of that twilight which seems diffused over his pictures, appear to 
 me to correspond with grave and dignified subjects, better than the 
 more artificial brilliancy of sunshine which enlightens the pictures 
 of Titian: though Tintoret thought that Titian's co- 
 louring was the model of perfection, and would correspond even, 
 with the sublime of Michael Angelo ; and that if Angelo 
 had coloured like Titian, or Titian designed like Angelo, 
 the world would once have had a perfect painter. 
 
 It is our misfortune, however, that those works of Car- 
 rache which I would recommend to the Student, are not often 
 found out of Bologna. The St. Francis in the midst of bis Friars, 
 The Transfiguration, The Birth of St. John the Baptist, The Calling 
 of St. Matthew., The St. Jerome, The Fresco Paintings in the Zam- 
 pieri palace, are all worthy the attention of the student. And I 
 think those who travel would do well to allot a much greater por- 
 tion of their time to that city than it has been hitherto the cujftom 
 to beftow. 
 
 In 
 
28 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 In this art, as in others, there are many teachers who profess 
 to shew the nearest way to excellence ,• and many expedients have 
 been invented by which the toil of study might be saved. But 
 let no man be seduced to idleness by specious promises. Excel- 
 lence is never granted to man, but as the reward of labour. It 
 argues indeed no small strength of mind to persevere in habits of 
 industry, without the pleasure of perceiving those advances; 
 which, like the hand of a clock, whilst they make hourly ap- 
 proaches to their point, yet proceed so slowly as to escape obser- 
 vation. A facility of drawing, like that of playing upon a mu- 
 sical instrument, cinnot be acquired but by an infinite number of 
 acts. I need not, therefore, enforce by many words the necessity 
 of continual application ; nor tell you that the porte-crayon ought 
 to be for ever in your hands. Various methods will occur to you 
 by which this power may be acquired. I would particularly re- 
 commend, that after your return from the Academy (where I sup- 
 pose your attendance to be constant) you would endeavour to 
 draw the figure by memory. I will even venture to add, that by- 
 perseverance in this custom, you will become able to draw the 
 human figure tolerably correct, with as little effort of the mind 
 as is required to trace with a,pfen the letters of the alphabet. 
 
 That this facility is not unattainable, some members in this 
 Academy give a sufficient proof. And be assured, that if this 
 power is not acquired whilst you are young, there will be no time 
 for it afterwards : at least the attempt will be attended with as 
 much difficulty as those experience who learn to read or write 
 after they have arrived to the age of maturity. 
 
 But 
 
DISCOURSE II. 2£ 
 
 But while I mention the porte-crayon as the student's constant 
 companion, he must still remember, that the pencil is the in- 
 strument by which he must hope to obtain eminence. What, 
 therefore, I wifli to impress upon you is, that whenever an oppor- 
 tunity offers, you paint your studies instead of drawing them. 
 This will give you such a facility in tiling colours, that in time 
 they will arrange themselves under the pencil, even without the 
 attention of the hand that conduces it. If one act excluded the 
 other, this advice could not with any propriety be given. But if 
 Painting comprises both drawing and colouring, and if by a short 
 struggle of resolute industry, the same expedition is attainable in 
 painting as in drawing on paper, I cannot see what objection can 
 justly be made to the practice ; or why that mould be done by 
 parts, which may be done all together. 
 
 If we turn our eyes to the several Schools of Painting, and con- 
 sider their respective excellencies, we shall find that those who 
 excel most in colouring, pursued this method. The Venetian. 
 and Flemish schools, which owe much of their fame to colouring, 
 have enriched the cabinets of the collectors of drawings, with 
 very few examples. Those of Titian, Paul Veronese,. 
 Tintoret, and the Bassans, are in general slight and undeter- 
 mined. Their sketches on paper are as rude as their pictures are 
 excellent in regard to harmony of colouring. Correggio and 
 Barocci have left few, if any finished drawings behind them. 
 And in the Flemish school, Rubens and Vandyck made their 
 defigns for the most part either in colours, or in chiaro os.curo. It 
 is as common to find studies of the Venetian and Flemish Painters on 
 canvass, as of the shools of Rome and Florence on paper. Not 
 
 3 but 
 
jo DISCOURSE II. 
 
 but that many finished drawings arc sold uncer the names of those 
 masters. Those, however, are undoubtedly the productions either 
 of engravers or of their scholars, who copisd their works. 
 
 These instructions I have ventured to offer from my own ex- 
 perience ; but as they deviate widely from received opinions, I 
 offer them with diffidence ; and when better are suggested, shall 
 retract them without regret, 
 
 There is one precept, however, in which I shall only bj op- 
 posed by the vain, the ignorant, and the idle. I am not afraid that 
 I shall repeat it too often. You must have no dependence on your 
 own genius. If you have great talents, industry will improve 
 them; if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply 
 their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well directed labour : 
 nothing is to be obtained without it. Not to enter into metaphy- 
 sical discussions on the nature or essence of genius, I will venture 
 to assert, that assiduity unabated by difficulty, and a disposition 
 eagerly directed to the object of its pursuit, will produce effects 
 eimilar to those which some call the result of natural powers. 
 
 Though a man cannot at all times, and in all places, paint or 
 draw, yet the mind can prepare itself by laying in proper mate- 
 rials, at all times, and in all places. Both Livy and Plutarch, 
 in describing Philopoemen, one of the ablest generals of an- 
 tiquity, have given us a striking picture of a mind always intent 
 on its profession, and by assiduity obtaining those excellencies 
 which some all their lives vainly expect from Nature. I shall 
 quote the passage in Livy at length, as it runs parallel with 
 
 the 
 
D I S C O U R S E IT. 31 
 
 the practice I would recommend to the Painter, Sculptor, and 
 Architect. 
 
 " Philopoemen was a man eminent for his sagacity and ex- 
 perience in choosing ground, and in leading armies ; to which ha 
 formed his mind by perpetual meditation, in times of peace as well 
 as war. When, in any. occasional journey, he came to a strait dif- 
 ficult passage, if he was alone, he considered with himself, and 
 if he was in company he asked his friends, what it would be best to 
 do if in this place they had found an enemy, either in the front, or 
 in the rear, on the one side, or on the other. ' It might happen,' 
 says he, ' that the enemy to be opposed might come on drawn up 
 in regular lines, or in a tumultuous body, formed only by the 
 nature of the place.' He then considered a little what ground he 
 should take ; what number of soldiers he should use, and what: 
 arms he should give them; where he should lodge his carriages, 
 his baggage, and the defenceless followers of his camp ; how 
 many guards, and of what kind, he should send to defend them ; 
 and whether it would be better to press forward along the pass, or 
 recover by retreat his former station : he would consider likewise 
 where his. camp could most commodiously be formed ; how much 
 ground he should inclose within his trenches ; where he should 
 have the convenience of water, and where he might find plenty 
 of wood and forage ; and when he should break up his camp on 
 the following day, through what road he could most safely pass, and 
 in what form he should dispose his troops. With such thoughts 
 and disquisitions he had from his early years so exercised his mind, 
 that on these occasions nothing could happen which he had not 
 been already accustomed to consider." 
 
 I CANNOT 
 
3Z DISCOURSE IT. 
 
 I cannot help imagining that I see a promising young painter, 
 equally vigilant, whether at home, or abroad, in the streets, or in 
 the fields. Every object that presents itself, is to him a lesson. 
 He regards all Nature with a view to his profession ; and com- 
 bines her beauties, or corrects her defects. He examines the 
 countenance of men under the influence of passion ; and often 
 catches the mofb pleasing hints from subjects of turbulence 
 or deformity. Even bad pictures themselves supply him with 
 useful documents 5 and, as Leonardo da Vinci has ob- 
 served, he improves upon the fanciful images that are some- 
 times seen in the fire, or are accidentally sketched upon a dis- 
 coloured wall. 
 
 The artist who has his mind thus filled with ideas, and his 
 hand made expert by practice, works with ease and readiness ; 
 whilst he who would have you believe that he is waiting for the 
 inspirations of Genius, is in reality at a loss how to begin ; and is 
 at last delivered of his monsters, with difficulty and pain. 
 
 The well-grounded painter, on the contrary, has only ma- 
 turely to consider his subject, and all the mechanical parts of 
 his art follow without his exertion. Conscious of the difficulty 
 of obtaining what he possesses, he makes no pretensions to secrets, 
 except those of closer application. Without conceiving the 
 smallest jealousy against others, he is contented that all shall be as 
 great as himself, who have undergone the same fatigue j and as 
 his pre-eminence depends not upon a trick, he is free from the 
 painful suspicions of a juggler, who lives in perpetual fear lest his 
 trick should be discovered. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE III. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER 14, 1770. 
 
 Vol. I 
 
 F 
 
DISCOURSE III 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 IT is not easy to speak with propriety to so many Students of 
 different ages and different degrees of advancement. The 
 mind requires nourishment adapted to its growth; and what may 
 have promoted our earlier efforts, might retard us in our nearer 
 approaches to perfection. 
 
 The first endeavours of a young Painter, as I have remarked 
 in a former discourse, must be employed in the attainment of 
 mechanical dexterity, and confined to the mere imitation of the 
 object before him. Those who have advanced beyond the rudi- 
 ments, may, perhaps, find advantage in reflecting on the advice 
 which I have likewise given them, when I recommended the 
 diligent study of the works of our great predecessors; but I at 
 the fame time endeavoured to guard them againft an implicit sub- 
 mission to the authority of any one master however excellent; or 
 by a strict imitation of his manner, precluding themselves from 
 the abundance and variety of Nature. I will now add that 
 Nature herself is not to be too closely copied. There are excel- 
 lencies in the art of painting beyond what is commonly called 
 the imitation of nature : and these excellencies I wish to point 
 out. The students who, having passed through the initiatory 
 exercises, are more advanced in the art, and who, sure of their 
 
 F 2 hand 
 
36 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 hand, have leisure to exert their understanding, must now be 
 told, that a mere copier of nature can never produce any thing 
 great ; can never raise and enlarge the conceptions, or warm the 
 heart of the spectator. 
 
 The wish of the genuine painter must be more extensive : 
 instead of endeavouring, to amuse mankind with the minute 
 neatness of his imitations, he must endeavour to improve them 
 by the grandeur of his ideas ; instead of seeking praise, by deceiving 
 the superficial sense of the spectator, he must strive for fame, 
 by captivating the imagination. 
 
 The principle now laid down, that the perfection of this art 
 does not consist in mere imitation, is far from being new or sin- 
 gular. It is, indeed, supported by the general opinion of the 
 enlightened part of mankind. The poets, orators, and rhetoricians 
 of antiquity, are continually enforcing this position ; that all the 
 arts receive their perfection from an ideal beauty, superior to 
 what is to be found in individual nature. They are ever referring 
 to the practice of the painters and sculptors of their times, par- 
 ticularly Phidias, (the favourite artist of antiquity,) to illustrate 
 their assertions. As if they could not sufficiently express 
 their admiration of his genius by what they knew, they have re- 
 course to poetical enthusiasm. They call it inspiration; a gift 
 from heaven. The artist is supposed to have ascended the celes- 
 tial regions, to furnish his mind with this perfect idea of beauty. 
 " He," says Proclus*, " who takes for his model such forms 
 " as nature produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation 
 
 * Lit. 2, in Timseam Platonis, as cited by Junius de Pi&ura Veterum. 
 
 " of 
 
DISCOURSE III., 
 
 J7 
 
 ** of them, will never attain to what is perfectly beautiful. For 
 " the works of nature are full of disproportion, and fall very 
 ** fhort of the true standard of beauty. So that Phidias, when 
 " he formed his Jupiter, did not copy any object ever presented 
 " to his sight; but contemplated only that image which he had 
 " conceived in his mind from Homer's description." And thus 
 Cicero, speaking of the same Phidias : " Neither did this artist," 
 fays he, " when he carved the image of Jupiter or Minerva, 
 " set before him any one human figure, as a pattern, which 
 " he was to copy; but having a more perfect idea of beauty 
 " fixed in his mind, this he steadily contemplated, and to the 
 " imitation of this all his skill and labour were directed." 
 
 The Moderns are not less convinced than the Ancients of 
 this superior power existing in the art; nor less sensible of its 
 effects. Every language has adopted terms expressive of this 
 excellence. The gusto grande of the Italians, the beau ideal of 
 the French, and the great style, genius, and taste among the 
 English, are but different appellations of the same thing. It 
 is this intellectual dignity, they say, that ennobles the painter's art; 
 that lays the line between him and the mere mechanick; and 
 produces those great effects in an instant, which eloquence and 
 poetry, by slow and repeated efforts, are scarcely able to attain. 
 
 Such is the warmth with which both the Ancients and 
 Moderns speak of this divine principle of the art; but, as I 
 have formerly observed, enthufiastick admiration seldom promotes 
 knowledge. Though a student by such praise may have his 
 attention roused, and a desire excited, of running in this great 
 
 career ; 
 
3§ DISCOURSE. III. 
 
 career; yet it is possible that what has been said to excite, may 
 only serve to deter him. He examines his own mind, and per- 
 ceives there nothing of that divine inspiration, with which, he 
 is told, so many others have been favoured. He never travelled 
 to heaven to gather new ideas ; and he finds himself possessed 
 of no other qualifications than what mere common observation 
 and a plain understanding can confer. Thus he becomes gloomy 
 amidst the splendour of figurative declamation, and thinks it 
 hopeless, to pursue an object which he supposes out of the 
 reach of human industry. 
 
 B u t on this, as upon many other occafions, we ought to dis- 
 tinguish how much is to be given to enthusiasm, and how much 
 to reason. We ought to allow for, and we ought to commend, 
 that strength of vivid expression, which is necessary to convey, 
 in its full force, the highest sense of the most complete effect 
 of art; taking care at the same time, not to lose in terms of vague 
 admiration, that solidity and truth of principle, upon which 
 alone we can reason, and may be enabled to practise. 
 
 It is not easy to define in what this great style consists; nor 
 to describe, by words, the proper means of acquiring it, if the 
 mind of the student fhould be at all capable of such an acquisition. 
 Could we teach taste or genius by rules, they would be no longer 
 taste and genius. But though there neither are, nor can be, any 
 precise invariable rules for the exercise, or the acquisition, of 
 these great qualities, yet we may truly say that they always 
 operate in proportion to our attention in observing the works of 
 nature, to our skill in selecting, and to our care in digesting, 
 
 methodizing, 
 
DISCOURSE III. 39 
 
 methodizing, and comparing our observations. There are many 
 beauties in our art, that seem, at first, to lie without the reach 
 of precept, and yet may eafily be reduced to practical principles. 
 Experience is all in all; but it is not every one who profits by 
 experience; and most people err, not so much from want of capacity 
 to find their object, as from not knowing what object to pursue. 
 This great ideal perfection and beauty are not to be sought in the 
 heavens, but upon the earth. They are about us, and upon every 
 side of us. But the power of discovering what is deformed in 
 nature, or in other words, what is particular and uncommon, 
 can be acquired only by experience; and the whole beauty and 
 grandeur of the art consists, in my opinion, in being able to 
 get above all singular forms, local customs, particularities, and 
 details of every kind. 
 
 All the objects which are exhibited to our view by nature r 
 upon close examination will be found to have their, blemifhes 
 and defects. The most beautiful forms have something about 
 them like weakness, minuteness, or imperfection. But it is 
 not every eye that perceives these blemishes. It must be an 
 eye long used to the contemplation and comparison of these 
 forms; and which, by a long habit of observing what any set 
 of objects of the same kind have in common, has acquired the 
 power of discerning what each wants in particular. This long 
 laborious comparison should be the first study of the painter, 
 who aims at the greatest style. By this means, he acquires a 
 just idea of beautiful forms ; he corrects nature by herself, her 
 imperfect state by her more perfect. His eye being enabled to 
 distinguish the accidental deficiencies, excrescences, and defor- 
 3 mities 
 
4© DISCOURSE III. 
 
 mities of things, from their general figures, he makes out an 
 abstract idea of their forms more perfect than any one original ; 
 and what may seem a paradox, he learns to design naturally by 
 drawing his figures unlike to any one object. This idea of the 
 perfect state of nature, which the Artist calls the Ideal Beauty, 
 is the great leading principle, by which works of genius are 
 conducted. By this Phidias acquired his fame. He wrought 
 upon a sober principle, what has so much excited the enthu- 
 siasm of the world ; and by this method you, who have courage 
 to tread the same path, may acquire equal reputation. 
 
 This is the idea which has acquired, and which seems to 
 have a right to the epithet of divine; as it may be said to preside, 
 like a supreme judge, over all the productions of nature; ap- 
 pearing to be possessed of the will and intention of the Creator, 
 as far as they regard the external form of living beings. When 
 a man once possesses this idea in its perfection, there is no danger, 
 but that he will be sufficiently warmed by it himself, and be able 
 to warm and ravish every one else. 
 
 Thus it is from a reiterated experience, and a close com- 
 parison of the objects in nature, that an artist becomes possessed 
 of the idea of that central form, if I may so express it, from 
 which every deviation is deformity. But the investigation of 
 this form, I grant, is painful, and I know but of one method 
 of shortening the road; this is, by a careful study of the works 
 of the ancient sculptors ; who, being indefatigable in the school 
 of nature, have left models of that perfect form behind them, 
 which an artist would prefer as supremely beautiful, who had 
 
 his 
 
DISCOURSE III. 4 r 
 
 His whole life in that single contemplation. But if industry car- 
 ried them thus far, may not you also hope for the same reward 
 from the same labour? We have the same school opened to- 
 es, that was opened to them; for nature denies her instructions ta 
 none, who desire to become her pupils. 
 
 Th i s laborious investigation, I am aware, must appear super- 
 fluous to those who think every thing is to be done by felicity, 
 and the powers of native genius. Even the great Bacon treats- 
 with ridicule the idea of confining proportion to rules, or of 
 producing beauty by selection . " A man cannot tell, says he, 
 ** whether Apelles or Albert Durer were the more trifier : whereof 
 * J the one would make a personage by geometrical proportions? 
 " the other, by taking the best parts out of divers faces, to make 
 
 " one excellent The painter, (he adds,) must do it by a kind 
 
 ** of felicity, . .. . and not. by rule * 
 
 I t is not safe to question any opinion of so great a writer,, 
 and so profound a thinker, as undoubtedly Bacon was. But he. 
 studies brevity to excess ; and therefore his meaning is sometimes, 
 doubtfuh If he means that beauty has- nothing to do with rule*, 
 he is mistaken. There is a rule, obtained out of general nature, 
 to contradict which is to fall, into deformity. Whenever any 
 thing is done beyond this rule, it is in virtue of some other rule 
 which is followed along with it, but which does not contradict 
 it. Every thing which is wrought with certainty, is wrought, 
 upon some principle. If it is not,, it cannot be repeated. If by feli- 
 city is meant any thing of chance or hazard, or something born. 
 
 * Essays, p. 252, edit. 1625. 
 Vol, L G • with- 
 
42 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 with a man, and not earned, I cannot agree with this great phi- 
 losopher. Ever)' object which pleases must give us pleasure upon 
 -some certain principles; but as the objects of pleasure are almost 
 infinite, so their principles vary without end, and every man finds 
 them out, not by felicity or successful hazard, but by care and 
 sagacity. 
 
 To the principle I have laid down, that the idea of beauty in 
 each species of beings is an invariable one, it may be objected, that 
 in every particular species there are various central forms, which 
 are separate and distinct from each other, and yet are undeniably 
 beautiful; that in the human figure, for instance, the beauty 
 of Hercules is one, of the Gladiator another, of the Apollo another; 
 which makes so many different ideas of beauty. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that these figures are each perfect in their 
 kind, though of different characters and proportions; but still 
 none of them is the representation of an individual, but of a 
 class. And as there is one general form, which, as I have said, 
 belongs to the human kind at large, so in each of these classes 
 there is one common idea and central form, which is the 
 abstract of the various individual forms belonging to that class. 
 Thus, though the forms of childhood and age differ exceed- 
 ingly, there is a common form in childhood, and a common form 
 in age, which is the more perfect, as it is more remote from 
 all peculiarities. But I must add further, that though the most 
 perfect forms of each of the general divisions of the human 
 figure are ideal, and superior to any individual form of that class ; 
 yet the highest perfection- of the human figure is not to be found 
 
 3 in 
 
DISCOURSE III. 4 j 
 
 in anyone of them. It is not in the Hercules, nor in the Gla- 
 diator, nor in the Apollo ; but in that form which is taken from 
 them all, and Vhich partakes equally of the activity of the Gla- 
 diator, of the delicacy of the Apollo, and of the muscular strength 
 of the Hercules. For perfect beauty in any species must combine 
 all the characters which are beautiful in that species. It cannot 
 consist in any one to the exclusion of the rest: no one, therefore, 
 must be predominant, that no one may be deficient. 
 
 The knowledge of these different characters, and the power 
 of separating and distinguishing them, is undoubtedly necessary 
 to the painter, who is to vary his compositions with figures of 
 various forms and proportions, though he is never to lose sight 
 of the general idea of perfection in each kind. 
 
 There is, likewise, a kind of symmetry,, or proportion,, 
 which may properly be said to belong to deformity. A figure 
 lean or corpulent, tall or fhort, though deviating from beauty, 
 may still have a certain union of the various parts, which may 
 contribute to make them on the whole not unpleasing. 
 
 When the Artist has by diligent attention acquired a clear 
 and distinct idea of beauty and symmetry; when he has reduced 
 the variety of nature to the abstract idea; his next task will be 
 to become acquainted with- the genuine habits of nature, as dis- 
 tinguished from those of fashion. For in the same manner,, 
 and on the same principles, as he has acquired the knowledge of 
 the real forms of nature, distinct from accidental deformity, he 
 must endeavour to separate simple chaste nature, from those 
 
 G 2 adven- 
 
 « 
 
44 DIS'COUR S E Id, 
 
 adventitious, those affected and forced airs or actions, with which 
 ehe is loaded by .modern education. 
 
 Perhaps I cannnot better explain what I mean, than by 
 reminding you of what was taught us by the Professor of 
 Anatomy, in respect to the natural position and movement of 
 the feet. He observed that the fashion of turning them outwards 
 was contrary to the intent of nature, as might be seen from the 
 structure of the bones, and from the weakness that proceeded 
 from -that manner of standing. To this we may add the erect 
 position of the head, the projection of the chest, the walking 
 with straight knees, and many such actions, which we know to be 
 merely the result of fashion, and what nature never warranted, 
 .as we are sure that we -have been taught them when children. 
 
 I have mentioned but a few of those instances, in which 
 vanity or caprice have contrived to distort and disfigure the human 
 form j your own recollection will add to these a thousand more of 
 ill-understood methods, which have been practised to disguise 
 nature, among our dancing-masters, hair-dressers, and tailors, 
 in their various schools of deformity *; 
 
 However the mechanick and ornamental arts may sacrifice 
 to fashion, she must be entirely excluded from the Art of Painting; 
 the painter must never mistake this capricious changeling for the 
 
 M * Those," says Quintilian, " who arc taken with the outward shew of things, 
 " think that there is more beauty in persons, who are trimmed, curled, and painted, 
 " than uncorrupt nature can give j as if beauty were merely the effect of the corruption 
 *' of manners." 
 
 genuine 
 
DISCOURSE III. 4 
 
 genuine offspring of nature; he must divest himself of all pre- 
 judices in favour of his age or country; he must disregard all 
 local and temporary ornaments, and look only on those general 
 habits which are every where and always the same. He ad- 
 dresses his works to the people of every country and every age; 
 he calls upon posterity to be his spectators, and says with Zeuxis, 
 in ceternitatem pin go. 
 
 The neglect of separating modern fashions from the habits 
 of nature, leads to that ridiculous style which has been practised 
 by some painters, who have given to Grecian Heroes the airs 
 and graces practised in the court of Lewis the Fourteenth; an 
 absurdity almost as great as it would have been to have dressed 
 them after the fashion of that court. 
 
 T o avoid this error, however, and to retain the true simplicity 
 of nature, is a task more difficult than at first sight it may appear. 
 The prejudices in favour of the fashions and customs that we 
 have been used to, and which are justly called a second nature, 
 make it too often difficult to distinguish that which is natural, 
 from that which is the result of education ; they frequently even 
 give a predilection in favour of the artificial mode; and almost 
 every one is apt to be guided by those local prejudices, who 
 has not chastised his mind, and regulated the instability of his 
 affections by the eternal invariable idea of nature. 
 
 Here then, as before, we must have recourse to the Ancients 
 as instructors. It is from a careful study of their works that 
 you will be enabled to attain to the real simplicity of nature; they 
 
 will 
 
46 DISCOURSE III.. 
 
 will suggest many observations, which would probably escape 
 you, if your study were confined to nature alone. And, indeed, 
 I cannot help suspecting, that in this instance the ancients had 
 an easier task than the moderns. They had, probably, little 
 or nothing to unlearn, as their manners were nearly approaching 
 to this desirable simplicity; while the modern artist, before he 
 can see the truth of things, is obliged to remove a veil, with 
 which the fashion of the times has thought proper to cover her. 
 
 Having gone thus far in our investigation of the great stile in 
 painting ; if we now should suppose that the artist has formed 
 the true idea of beauty, which enables him to give his works a 
 correct and perfect design ; if we should suppose also, that he 
 has acquired a knowledge of the unadulterated habits of nature, 
 v/hich gives him simplicity; the rest of his task is, perhaps, 
 less than is generally imagined. Beauty and simplicity have so 
 great a share in the composition of a great stile, that he who 
 has acquired them has little else to learn. It must not, indeed, 
 be forgotten, that there is a nobleness of conception, v/hich goes 
 beyond any thing in the mere exhibition even of perfect form; 
 there is an art of animating and dignifying the figures with in- 
 tellectual grandeur, of impressing the appearance of philosophick 
 wisdom, or heroick virtue. This can only be acquired by him 
 tjiat enlarges the sphere of his understanding by a variety of 
 knowledge, and warms his imagination with the best productions 
 of antient and modern poetry. 
 
 A Hand thus exercised, and a mind thus instructed, will 
 bring the art to an higher degree of excellence than, perhaps, it 
 
 has 
 
DISCO U.R S E III. 47 
 
 lias hitherto attained in this country. Such a student will disdain 
 the humbler walks of painting, which, however profitable, can 
 never assure him a permanent reputation. He will leave the 
 meaner artist servilely to suppose that those are the best pictures, 
 which are most likely to deceive the spectator. He will permit 
 the lower painter, like the florist or collector of shells, to exhibit 
 the minute discriminations, which distinguish one object of the 
 same species from another; while he, like the philosopher, 
 will consider nature in the abstract, and represent in every one of 
 his figures the character of its species. 
 
 I f deceiving the eye were the only business of the art, there is 
 no doubt, indeed, but the minute painter would be more apt to 
 succeed: but it is not the eye, it is the mind, which the painter 
 of genius desires to address; nor will he waste a moment upon 
 those smaller objects, which only serve to catch the sense, to 
 divide the attention, and to counteract his great design of speaking 
 to the heart. 
 
 This is the ambition which I wi/h to excite in your minds ; 
 and the object I have had in my view, throughout this discourse, 
 is that one great idea, which gives to painting its true dignity, 
 which entitles it to the name of a Liberal Art, and ranks it as 
 a sister of poetry. 
 
 I t may possibly have happened to many young students, whose 
 application was sufficient to overcome all difficulties,' and whose 
 minds were capable of embracing the most extensive views, that 
 they have, by a wrong direction originally given, spent their lives 
 
 in 
 
48 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 in the meaner walks of painting, without ever knowing there was 
 a nobler to pursue. Albert Durer, as Vasari has justly remarked, 
 would, probably, have been one of the first painters of his age,, 
 (and he lived in an era of great artists,) had he been initiated into 
 those great principles cf the art, which were so well understood 
 and practised by his contemporaries in Italy. But unluckily 
 having never seen or heard of any other manner, he, without 
 doubt, considered his own as perfect.. 
 
 As for the various departments of painting, which do not 
 presume to make such high pretensions, they are many. None 
 of them are without their merit, though none enter into compe- 
 tition with this universal presiding idea of the art. The painters 
 who have applied themselves more, particularly to low and vulgar 
 characters, and who express with precision the various lliades of 
 passion, as they are exhibited by vulgar minds, (such as we see 
 in the works of Hogarth,), deserve great praise;, but as their genius 
 has been employed on low and confined subjects, the praise which 
 v/e give must be as limited as its object. The merry-making, or 
 quarrelling, of the Boors of Teniers j. the. same, sort of productions 
 of Brouwer, or Ostade, are excellent in their kind; and the ex- 
 cellence and its praise will be in proportion,, as, in those limited 
 subjects,, and peculiar forms, they introduce more or less of 
 the expression of those passions, as. they appear in general and 
 more enlarged nature. This principle may be applied to the 
 Battle-pieces of Bourgognone, the French, Gallantries of 
 Watteau, and even beyond the exhibition of animal life, to 
 the Landscapes of Claude Lorraine, and the Sea-Views of 
 Vandervelde. AU these painters have, in general, the same right, 
 
 AG 
 
discourse nr. 49 
 
 In different degrees, to the name of a painter, which a satirist,, 
 an epigrammatist, a sonneteer, a writer of pastorals, or descriptive 
 poetry, has to that of a poet. 
 
 I n the same rank, and perhaps of not so great merit, is the 
 cold painter of portraits. But his correct and just imitation of 
 his object has its merit. Even the painter of still life, whose 
 highest ambition is to give a minute representation of every part 
 of those low objects which he sets before him, deserves praise 
 in proportion to his attainment; because no part of this excellent 
 art, so much the ornament of polished life, is destitute of value 
 and use. These, however, are by no means the views to which 
 the mind of the student ought to be. primarily directed. Having 
 begun by aiming at better things, if from particular inclination, 
 or from the taste of the time and place he lives in, or from neces- 
 sity, or from failure in the highest attempts, he is obliged to 
 descend lower, he will bring into the lower sphere of art a gran- 
 deur of composition and character, that will raise and ennoble 
 his works far above their natural rank. 
 
 A man is not weak, though he may not be able to wield the 
 club of Hercules ; nor does a man always practise that which he 
 esteems the best; but does that which he can best do. In mode- 
 rate attempts, there are many walks open to the artist. But as 
 the idea of beauty is of necessity but one, so there can be but one 
 great mode of painting; the leading principle of which I have 
 endeavoured to explain. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 H 
 
 I SHOULD 
 
50 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 I should be sorry, if what is here recommended, should be 
 at all understood to countenance a careless or indetermined man- 
 ner of painting. For though the painter is to overlook the ac- 
 cidental discriminations of nature, he is to exhibit distinctly, 
 and with precision, the general forms of things. A firm and 
 determined outline is one of the characteristics of the great style 
 in painting; and let me add, that he who possesses the know- 
 ledge of the exact form which every part of nature ought to 
 have, will be fond of expressing that knowledge with correct- 
 ness and precision in all his works. 
 
 T o conclude ; I have endeavoured to reduce the idea of 
 beauty to general principles : and I had the pleasure to ob- 
 serve that the Professor of painting proceeded in the same method, 
 when he shewed you that the artifice of contrast was founded but on 
 one principle. I am convinced that this is the only means 
 of advancing science, of clearing the mind from a confused heap 
 of contradictory observations, that do but perplex and puzzle the 
 student, when he compares them, or mifguide him if he gives 
 himself up to their authority : bringing them under one general 
 head, can alone give rest and satisfaction to an inquisitive mind. 
 
 D I S- 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10, 1771. 
 
 H 2 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 THE value and rank of every art is in proportion to the men- 
 tal labour employed in it, or the mental pleasure produced 
 by it. As this principle is observed or neglected, our profession 
 becomes either a liberal art, or a mechanical trade. In the hands 
 of one man it makes the highest pretensions, as it is addressed 
 to the noblest faculties : in those of another it is reduced to 
 a mere matter of ornament ; and the painter has but the humble 
 province of furnishing our apartments with elegance. 
 
 T h i s exertion of mind, which is the only circumstance that 
 truly ennobles our Art, makes the great distinction between the 
 Roman and Venetian schools. I have formerly observed, that 
 perfect form is produced by leaving out particularities, and re-- 
 taining only general ideas : I shall now endeavour to shew that 
 this principle, which I have proved to be metaphysically just, 
 extends itself to every part of the Art; that it gives what is called 
 the grand style, to Invention, to Composition, to Expression, 
 and even to Colouring and Drapery. 
 
 Invention in Painting does not imply the invention of 
 the subject; for that is commonly supplied by the Poet or His- 
 torian. With respect to the choice, no subject can be proper 
 
 that 
 
54 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 that is not generally interesting. It ought to be either some 
 eminent instance of heroick action, or heroick suffering. There 
 must be something either in the action, or in the object, in which 
 men are universally concerned, and which powerfully strikes upon 
 the publick sympathy. 
 
 Strictly speaking, indeed, no subject can be of universal, 
 hardly can it be of general, concern; but there are events and 
 characters so popularly known in those countries where our 
 Art is in request, that they may be considered as sufficiently 
 general for all our purposes. Such are the great events of Greek 
 and Roman fable and history, which early education, and the 
 usual course of reading, have made familiar and interesting to 
 all Europe, without being degraded by the vulgarism of ordinary 
 life in any country. Such too are the capital subjects of scrip- 
 ture history, which, besides their general notoriety, become 
 venerable by their connection with our religion. 
 
 As it is required that the subject selected should be a gene- 
 ral one, it is no less necessary that it should be kept unembar- 
 rassed with whatever may any way serve to divide the attention 
 of the spectator. Whenever a story is related, every man forms 
 a picture in his mind of the action and expression of the persons 
 employed. The power of representing this mental picture on 
 canvass is what we call Invention in a Painter. And as in the 
 conception of this ideal picture, the mind does not enter into 
 the minute peculiarities of the dress, furniture, or scene of action; 
 so when the Painter comes to represent it, he contrives those 
 little necessary concomitant circumstances in such a manner, 
 3 that 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 55 
 
 that they shall strike the spectator no more than they did himself 
 in his first conception of the story* 
 
 I a m very ready to allow that some circumstances of minute- 
 ness and particularity frequently tend to give an air of truth to 
 a piece, and to interest the spectator in an extraordinary manner. 
 Such circumstances therefore cannot wholly be rejected: but 
 if there be any thing in the Art which requires peculiar nicety 
 of discernment, it is the disposition of these minute circumstan- 
 tial parts ; which, according to the judgement employed in the 
 choice, become so useful to truth, or so injurious to grandeur. 
 
 However, the usual and most dangerous error is on the side 
 of minuteness ; and therefore I think caution most necessary 
 where most have failed. The general idea constitutes real ex- 
 cellence. All smaller things, however perfect in their way, 
 are to be sacrificed without mercy to the greater. The Painter 
 will not enquire what things may be admitted without much 
 censure: he will not think it enough to shew that they may be 
 there; he will shew that they must be there; that their absence 
 would render his picture maimed and defective. 
 
 Thus, though to the principal group a second or third be 
 added, and a second and third mass of light, care must be yet 
 taken that these subordinate actions and lights, neither each in par- 
 ticular, nor all together, come into any degree of competition with 
 the principal ; they mould merely make a part of that whole which 
 would be imperfect without them. To every kind of painting this 
 rule may be applied. Even in portraits, the grace, and, we 
 
 may 
 
$6 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 may add, the likeness, consists more in taking the general air, 
 than in observing the exact similitude of every feature. 
 
 Thus figures must have a ground whereon to stand; they must 
 be cloathed ; there must be a back-ground ; there must be light 
 and shadow: but none of these ought to appear to have taken 
 up any part of the artist's attention. They should be so managed 
 as not even to catch that of the spectator. We know well enough, 
 when we analyze a piece, the difficulty and the subtilty with 
 which an artist adjusts the back-ground, drapery, and masses 
 of light ; we know that a considerable part of the grace and ef- 
 fect of his picture depends upon them ; but this art is so much 
 concealed, even to a judicious eye, that no remains of any of 
 these subordinate parts occur to the memory when the picture is- 
 not present. 
 
 The great end of the art is to strike the imagination. The 
 Painter is therefore to make no ostentation of the means by which 
 this is done; the spectator is only to feel the result in his bo- 
 som. An inferior artist is unwilling that any part of his indus- 
 try should be lost upon the spectator. He takes as much pains 
 to discover, as the greater artist does to conceal, the marks of 
 his subordinate assiduity. In works of the lower kind, every 
 thing appears studied, and encumbered; it is all boastful art, 
 and open affectation. The ignorant often part from such pictures 
 with wonder in their mouths, and indifference in their hearts. 
 
 But it is not enough in Invention that the x"\rtist should 
 restrain and keep under all the inferior parts of his subject ; he 
 
 must 
 
DISCOURSE. IV. 57 
 
 sometimes deviate from vulgar and strict: historical truth, in pur- 
 suing the grandeur of his design. 
 
 H o w much the great stile exacts from its professors to con- 
 ceive and represent their subjects in a poetical manner, not con- 
 fined to mere matter of fact, may be seen in the Cartoons of 
 Raffaelle. In all the pictures in which the painter has repre- 
 sented the apostles, he has drawn them with great nobleness; he 
 has given them as much dignity as the human figure is capable 
 of receiving; yet we are expressly told in scripture they had no 
 such respectable appearance ; and of St. Paul in particular, we 
 are told by himself, that his bodily presence was mean. Alexander 
 is said to have been of a low stature : a Painter ought not so to 
 represent him. Agesilaus was low, lame, and of a mean appear^ 
 ance : none of these defects ought to appear in a piece of which 
 he is the hero. Sn conformity to custom, I call this part of 
 the art History Painting j it ought to be called Poetical, as in 
 reality -it is. 
 
 All this is not falsifying any fact ; it is taking an allowed 
 poetical licence. A painter of portraits retains the individual 
 likeness; a painter of history shews the man by shewing his ac- 
 tions. A Painter must compensate the natural deficiences of 
 his art. Pie has but one sentence to utter, but one moment 
 to exhibit. He cannot, like the poet or historian, expatiate, and 
 -impress the mind with great veneration for the character of the 
 hero or .saint he represents, though he lets us know at the 
 same time, that the saint was deformed, or the hero lame. The 
 Painter has no other means of giving an idea of the dignity of the 
 
 Vol. I. I mind 
 
S S DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 mind, but by that external appearance which grandeur of thought 
 does generally, though not always, impress on the countenance ; 
 and by that correspondence of figure to sentiment and situation, 
 which all men wish, but cannot command. The Painter, 
 who may in this one particular attain with eafe what others 
 desire in vain, ought to give all that he possibly can, lince there 
 are fo many circumstances of true greatnefs that he cannot give 
 at all. He cannot make his hero talk like a great man ; he must 
 make him look like one. For which reason, he ought to be 
 well studied in the analysis of those circumstances, which 
 constitute dignity of appearance in real life. 
 
 As in Invention, fo likewise in Expression, care must be 
 taken not to run into particularities. Those expressions alone 
 should be given to the figures which their respective situations 
 generally produce. Nor is this enough ; each person should 
 also have that expression which men of his rank generally exhibit. 
 The joy, or the grief of a character of dignity, is not to be ex- 
 pressed in the same manner as a similar passion in a vulgar face. 
 Upon this principle, Bernini, perhaps, may be subject to cen- 
 sure. This sculptor, in many respects admirable, has given 
 a very mean expression to his statue of David, who is repre- 
 sented as just going to throw the stone from the sling; and in 
 order to give it the expression of energy, he has made him biting 
 his under-lip. This expression is far from being general, and 
 still farther from being dignified. He might have seen it in an 
 instance or two j and he mistook accident for generality. 
 
 With 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 59 
 
 With respect to Colouring, though it may appear at first 
 a part of painting merely mechanical, yet it still has its rules, 
 and those grounded upon that presiding principle which regulates 
 both the great and the little in the study of a Painter. By this, 
 the first effect of the picture is produced; and as this is performed, 
 the spectator as he walks the gallery, will stop, or pass along. 
 To give a general air of grandeur at first view, all trifling or 
 artful play of little lights, or an attention to a variety of tints 
 is to be avoided ; a quietness and simplicity must reign over 
 the whole work ; to which a breadth of uniform, and simple 
 colour, will very much contribute. Grandeur of effect is pro- 
 duced by two different ways, which seem entirely opposed to 
 each other. One is, by reducing the colours to little more 
 than chiaro oscuro, which was often the practice of the Bolognian 
 schools; and the other, by making the colours very distinct: and 
 forcible, such as we see in those of Rome and Florence; but still, 
 the prefiding principle of both those manners is simplicity. Cer- 
 tainly, nothing can -be more simple than monotony; and the 
 distinct blue, red, and yellow colours which are seen in the dra- 
 peries of the Roman and Florentine schools, though they have 
 not that kind of harmony which is produced by a variety of bro- 
 ken and transparent colours, have that effect of grandeur which 
 was intended. Perhaps these distinct colours strike the mind 
 more forcibly, from there not being any great union between them; 
 as martial musick, which is intended to rouse the nobler passions, 
 has its .effect from the sudden and strongly marked transitions 
 from one note to another, which that style of musick requires; 
 whilst in that which is intended to move the softer passions, 
 the notes imperceptibly melt into one another. 
 
 I 2 tfc 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 In the same manner as the historical Painter never enters into* 
 the detail of colours, so neither does he debase his conceptions 
 with minute attention to the discriminations of Drapery. It is- 
 the inferior stile that marks the variety of stuffs. With him, 
 the cloathing is neither woollen, nor linen, nor silk, sattin, or 
 velvet : it is drapery ; it is nothing more. The art of disposing- 
 the foldings of the drapery make a very considerable part of the 
 painter's study. To make it merely natural is a mechanical 
 operation, to which neither genius or taste are required ; whereas,. 
 it requires the nicest judgement to dispose the drapery, so that 
 the folds shall have an easy communication, and gracefully 
 follow each other, with such natural negligence as to look like 
 the effect of chance, and at the same time shew the figure under 
 it to the utmost advantage. 
 
 Carlo Maratti was of opinion, that the disposition of 
 drapery was a more difficult art than even that of drawing the 
 human figure ; that a Student might be more eafily taught the 
 latter than the former ; as the rules of drapery, he said, could not 
 be so well ascertained as those for delineating a correct form. 
 This, perhaps, is a proof how willingly we favour our own pecu- 
 liar excellence. Carlo Maratti is said to have valued himself 
 particularly upon his skill in this part of his art ; yet in him*, 
 the disposition appears so ostentatiously artificial, that he is in- 
 ferior to Raffaelle, even in. that, which gave him his beft claim: 
 to reputation . 
 
 Such is the great principle by which we must be directed in 
 the nobler branches of our art. Upon this principle, the Roman, 
 
 the 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 6i 
 
 the Florentine, the Bolognese schools, have formed their practice ^ 
 and by this they have deservedly obtained the highest praisc 
 These are the three great schools of the world in the epick stile. 
 The best of the French school, Poussin, Le Sueur r and Le Brun, 
 have formed themselves upon these models, and consequently, 
 may be said, though Frenchmen, to be a colony from the Roman 
 school. Next to these, but in a very different stile of excellence,, 
 we may rank the Venetian, together with the Flemish and the 
 Dutch schools \ all professing to depart from the great purposes 
 of painting, and catching at applause by inferior qualities. 
 
 I a m not ignorant that some will censure me for placing the. 
 Venetians in this inferior class, and many of the warmest admirers 
 of painting will think them unjustly degraded; but I wish not 
 to be misunderstood. Though I can by no means allow them 
 to hold any rank with the nobler schools of painting, they ac- 
 complished perfectly the thing they attempted. But as mere 
 elegance is their principal object, as they seem more willing to 
 dazzle than to affect, it can be no injury to them to suppose 
 that their practice is useful only to its proper end. But what 
 may heighten the elegant may degrade the sublime. _ There is 
 a simplicity, and I may add, severity, in the great manner, which 
 is, I am afraid, almost incompatible with this comparatively sen- 
 sual style. 
 
 Tintoret, Paul Veronese, and others of the Venetian school, 
 seem to have painted with no other purpose than to be admired 
 for their skill and expertness in the mechanism of painting, 
 
 and 
 
li DISCOURSE IVL 
 
 and to make a parade of that art, which as I before observed, 
 the higher stile requires its followers to conceal. 
 
 Ins conference of the French Academy, at which were pre- 
 sent Le Brun, Sebaftian Bourdon, and all the eminent Artists 
 of that age, one of the academicians desired to have their opiniou 
 on the conduct of Paul Veronese, who, though a Painter of 
 great consideration, had, contrary to the strict rules of art, in his 
 picture of Perseus and Andromeda, represented the principal 
 figure in shade. To this question no satisfactory answer was 
 then given. But I will venture to say, that if they had consider- 
 ed the class of the Artist, and ranked him as an ornamental 
 Painter, there would have been no difficulty in answering — " It 
 *' was unreasonable to expect what was never intended. His 
 a intention was solely to produce an effect of light and shadow ; 
 "everything was to be sacrificed to that intent, and the ca- 
 " pricious composition of that picture suited very well with 
 " the stile which he professed." 
 
 Young minds are indeed too apt to be captivated by this splen- 
 dour of stile; and that of the Venetians is particularly pleasing 
 for by them, all those parts of the Art that gave pleasure to the 
 eye or sense, have been cultivated with care, and carried to the 
 ■degree nearest ,to perfection. The powers exerted in the me- 
 chanical part of the Art have been called the language of Painters - 3 
 but we may say, that it is but poor eloquence which only shews 
 that the orator can talk. Words should be employed as the 
 means, net as the end : language is the instrument, conviction 
 is the work. 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 63 
 
 'T h e language of Painting must indeed be allowed these mas- 
 ters but even in that, they have shewn more copiousness than 
 choice, and more luxuriancy than judgment. If we consider 
 the uninteresting subjects of their invention, or at least the un- 
 interesting manner in which they are treated ; if we attend to 
 their capricious composition, their violent and affected contrasts, 
 whether of figures or of light and shadow, the richness of their 
 drapery, and at the same time, the mean effect which the dis- 
 crimination of stuffs gives to their pictures y if to these we add 
 their total inattention to expression ; and then reflect on the con- 
 ceptions and the learning of Michael Angelo, or the simplicity 
 of Raffaelle, we can no longer dwell on the comparison. Even 
 in colouring, if we compare the quietness and chastity of the 
 Bolognese pencil to the buftle and tumult that fills every 
 part of a Venetian picture, without the leaft attempt to in- 
 tereff the paflions, their boafted art will appear a mere ftruggle 
 without effect ; a tale told by an ideot, fill of found and fury, 
 fgnfying nothing. 
 
 Such as fuppofe that the great ffile might happily be 
 blended with the ornamental, that the simple, grave and 
 majeftick dignity of Raffaelle could unite with the glow and 
 bustle of a Paulo, or Tintoret, are totally mistaken. The 
 principles by which each are attained are so contrary to each 
 other, that they seem, in my opinion, incompatible, and as 
 impossible to exist together, as that in the mind the most sub- 
 lime ideas and the lowest sensuality should at the same time 
 be united. 
 
 3 The 
 
$4 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 The subjects of the Venetian Painters are mostly such as give 
 them an opportunity of introducing a great number of figures 
 such as feasts, marriages, and processions, publick martyrdoms, 
 or miracles. I can easily conceive that Paul Veronese, if he 
 were asked., would say, that no subject was proper for an histo- 
 -rical picture, but such as admitted at least forty figures; for 
 in a less number, he would assert, there could be no opportunity 
 of the Painter's shewing his art in composition, his dexterity of 
 managing and disposing the masses of light and groups of 
 figures, and of introducing a variety of Eastern dresses and cha- 
 racters in their rich stuffs. 
 
 But the thing is very different with a pupil of the greater 
 -schools. Annibal Carrache thought twelve figures sufficient 
 for any story: he conceived that more would contribute to no 
 end but to fill space; that they would be but cold spectators of 
 the general action, or, to use his own expression, that they would 
 be figures to be let. Besides, it is impossible for a picture com- 
 posed of so many parts to have that effect so indispensably neces- 
 sary to grandeur, that of one complete whole. However con- 
 tradictory it may be in geometry, it is true in taste, that many 
 little things will not make a great one. The Sublime impresses 
 the mind at once with one great idea; it is a single blow : the 
 Elegant indeed may be produced by repetition ; by an accumu- 
 lation of many minute circumstances. 
 
 However great the difference is between the composition of 
 the Venetian, and the rest of the Italian schools, there is full 
 as great a disparity in the effect of their pictures as produced by 
 
 colours. 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 65 
 
 colours. And though in this respect the Venetians must be 
 allowed extraordinary skill, yet even that skill, as they have 
 employed it, will but ill correspond with the great style. Their 
 colouring is not only too brilliant, but, I will venture to say, too 
 harmonious, to produce that solidity, steadiness, and simplicity of 
 effect, which heroick subjects require, and which simple or 
 grave colours only can give to a work. That they are to be cau- 
 tioufly studied by those who are ambitious of treading the great 
 walk of history, is confirmed, if it wants confirmation, by the 
 greatest of all authorities, Michael Angelo. This wonderful 
 man, after having seen a picture by Titian, told Vasari, who 
 accompanied him*, " that he liked much his colouring and 
 " manner j" but then he added, that " it was a pity the Venetian 
 " painters did not learn to draw correctly in their early youth, 
 " and adopt a better manner of study." 
 
 By this it appears, that the principal attention of the Venetian 
 painters, in the opinion of Michael Angelo, seemed to be en- 
 grossed by the study of colours, to the neglect of the ideal beauty 
 of fo7'm y or propriety of expression. But if general censure was 
 given to that school from the sight of a picture of Titian, how 
 much more heavily, and more justly, would the censure fall 
 on Paulo Veronese, and more especially on Tintoret ? And here 
 I cannot avoid citing Vasari's opinion of the style and manner of 
 
 * Dicendo, chc molto gli piaceva il colorito suo, e la maniera ; ma che era un pec- 
 cato, che a Venezia non s'imparasse da principio a difegnarc bene, e che non haves- 
 sano que' pittori miglior modo nello studio. Vaf. torn. iii. p. 226. Vita di Tiziano. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 K 
 
 Tintoret. 
 
66 
 
 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 Tintoret. " Of all the extraordinary geniuses*," says he, " that 
 " have ever practised the art of painting, for wild, capricious, 
 " extravagant and fantastical inventions, for furious impetuosity 
 *« and boldness in the execution of his work, there is none like 
 " Tintoret ; his strange whimsies are even beyond extravagance, 
 «« and his works seem to be produced rather by chance, than 
 " in consequence of any previous design, as if he wanted to con- 
 " vince the world that the art was a trifle, and of the most easy 
 ie attainment." 
 
 For my own part, when I speak of the Venetian painters, 
 I wish to be understood to mean Paulo Veronese and Tintoret, 
 to the exclusion of Titian ; for though his style is not so pure 
 as that of many other of the Italian schools, yet there is a sort 
 of senatorial dignity about him, which, however auk ward in 
 his imitators, seems to become him exceedingly. His portraits 
 alone, from the nobleness and simplicity of character which he 
 always gave them, will intitle him to the greatest respect, as 
 he undoubtedly stands in the first rank in this branch of the art. 
 
 It is not with Titian, but with the seducing qualities of the 
 two former, that I could wish to caution you against being too 
 much captivated. These are the persons who may be said to 
 
 * Nelle cose della pittura, stravagante, capriccioso, presto, e resoluto, et il piu 
 icrribile cervello, che habbia havuto mai la pittura, come sipuo vedere in tutte Ie sue 
 opere ; e ne' componimenti delle storie, fantastiche, e fatte da lui diversamente, e fuori 
 dell' uso degli altri pittori: anzi ha superato la stravaganza, conlenuove, e capricciose 
 inventioni, e strani ghiribizzi del suo intelleto, che ha lavorato a caso, c senza disegno, 
 quasi monstrando che quest' arte c una baia, 
 
 have 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 67 
 
 have exhausted all the powers of florid eloquence, to debauch 
 the young and unexperienced, and have, without doubt, been the 
 cause of turning off the attention of the connoisseur and of the 
 patron of art, as well as that of the painter, from those higher 
 excellencies of which the art is capable, and which ought to 
 be required in every considerable production. By them, and 
 their imitators, a style merely ornamental has been disseminated 
 throughout all Europe. Rubens carried it to Flanders; Voet, 
 to France; and Luca Giordano, to Spain and Naples. 
 
 The Venetian is indeed the most splendid of the schools of 
 elegance; and it is not without reason, that the best performances 
 in this lower school are valued higher than the second rate per- 
 formances of those above them : for every picture has value when 
 it has a decided character, and is excellent in its kind. But the 
 Student must take care not to be so much dazzled with this 
 splendour, as to be tempted to imitate what must ultimately lead 
 from perfection. Poussin, whose eye was always steadily fixed 
 on the Sublime, has been often heard to say, " That a particu- 
 " lar attention to colouring was an obstacle to the Student, in 
 " his progress to the great end and design of the art ; and that 
 *' he who attaches himself to this principal end, will acquire by 
 " practice a reasonable good method of colouring.* " 
 
 Though it be allowed that elaborate harmony of colouring, 
 
 * Que cette application singuliere n'etoit qu'un obstacle pour empecher de parvenir 
 au veritable but de la peinture, & celui qui s'attache au principal, acquiert par la prati- 
 que une assez belle rruinere de peindre. Conference de l'Acad. Franc. 
 
 K 2 a bril- 
 
63 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 a brilliancy cf tints, a soft and gradual transition from one to 
 another, present to the eye, what an harmonious concert of 
 musick does to the ear, it must be remembered, that painting is 
 not merely a gratification of the sight. Such excellence, though 
 properly cultivated, where nothing higher than elegance is in- 
 tended, is weak and unworthy of regard, when the work aspires 
 to grandeur and sublimity. 
 
 Th e same reasons that have been urged to mew that a mix- 
 ture of the Venetian style cannot improve the great style, will 
 hold good in regard to the Flemifh and Dutch schools. Indeed, 
 the Flemish school, of which Rubens is the head, was formed 
 upon that of the Venetian ; like them, he took his figures too 
 much from the people before him. But it must be allowed in 
 favour of the Venetians, that he was more gross than they, and 
 carried all their mistaken methods to a far greater excess. In the 
 Venetian school itself, where they all err from the same cause, 
 there is a difference in the effect. The difference between Paulo and 
 Bassano seems to be only, that one introduced Venetian gentlemen 
 into his pictures, and the other the boors of the district of 
 Bassano, and called them patriarchs and prophets. 
 
 The painters of the Dutch school have still more locality. 
 With them, a history-piece is properly a portrait cf themselves ; 
 whether they describe the inside or outside of their houses, we 
 have their own people engaged in their own peculiar occupations ; 
 working, or drinking, playing, or fighting. The circumstances 
 that enter into a picture of this kind, are so far from giving 
 a general view of human life, that they exhibit all the 
 
 minute 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 69 
 
 minute particularities of a nation differing in several respects 
 from the rest of mankind. Yet, let them have their share of 
 more humble praise. The painters of this school are excellent 
 in their own way ; they are only ridiculous when they attempt 
 general history on their own narrow principles, and debase great 
 events by the meanness of their characters. 
 
 Some inferior dexterity, some extraordinary mechanical power 
 is apparently that from which they seek distinction. Thus, we 
 see, that school alone has the custom of representing candle-light, 
 not as it really appears to us by night, but red, as it would illu- 
 minate objects to a spectator by day. Such tricks, however 
 pardonable in the little style, where petty effects are the sole end, 
 are inexcusable in the greater, where the attention should never 
 be drawn aside by trifles, but should be entirely occupied by the 
 subject itself. 
 
 Th e same local principles which characterize the Dutch 
 school extend even to their landscape painters ; and Rubens 
 himself, who has painted many landscapes, has sometimes trans- 
 gressed in this particular. Their pieces in this way are, I think, 
 always a representation of an individual spot, and each in its 
 kind a very faithful but very confined portrait. 
 
 Claude Lorrain, on the contrary, was convinced, that- 
 taking nature as he found it seldom produced beauty. His pic- 
 tures are a composition of the various draughts which he had 
 previously made from various beautiful scenes and prospects. 
 However, Rubens in some measure has made amends for the 
 
 deficiency 
 
70 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 deficiency with which he is charged ; he has contrived to raise 
 and animate his otherwise uninteresting views, by introducing 
 a rainbow, storm, or some particular accidental effect of light. 
 That the practice of Claude Lorrain, in respect to his choice, 
 is to be adopted by Landschape Painters, in opposition to that 
 of the Flemish and Dutch schools/ there can be no doubt, 
 as its truth is founded upon the same principle as that by which 
 the Historical Painter acquires perfect form. But whether 
 landschape painting has a right to aspire so far as to reject what 
 the painters call Accidents of Nature, is not easy to determine. 
 It is certain Claude Lorrain seldom, if ever, availed himself of 
 those accidents ; either he thought that such peculiarities were 
 contrary to that style of general nature which he professed, 
 or that it would catch the attention too strongly, and destroy 
 that quietness and repose which he thought necessary to that 
 kind of painting. 
 
 A PoRTRAiT-Painter likewise, when he attempts history, 
 unless he is upon his guard, is likely to enter too much into the 
 detail. He too frequently makes his historical heads look like 
 portraits ; and this was once the custom amongst those old pain- 
 ters, who revived the art before general ideas were practised or 
 understood. An History-painter paints man in general ; a Portrait- 
 Painter, a particular man, and consequently a defective model. 
 
 Th us an habitual practice in the lower exercises of the art 
 will prevent many from attaining the greater. But such of us 
 who move in these humbler walks of the profession, are not 
 ignorant that, as the natural dignity of the subject is less, the 
 
 more 
 
DISCOURSE IV. 71 
 
 more all the little ornamental helps are necessary to its embellish- 
 ment. It would be ridiculous for a painter of domestick scenes, of 
 portraits, landschapes, animals, or of still life, to say that he 
 despised those qualities which has made the subordinate schools 
 so famous. The art of colouring, and the fkilful management 
 of light and shadow, are essential requisites in his confined la- 
 bours. If we descend still lower, what is the painter of fruit 
 and flowers without the utmost art in colouring, and what 
 the painters call handling ; that is, a lightness of pencil that im- 
 plies great practice, and gives the appearance of being done with 
 ease ? Some here, I believe, must remember a flower-painter 
 whose boast it was, that he scorned to paint for the million : no, 
 he professed to paint in the true Italian taste; and despising 
 the crowd, called strenuously upon the few to admire him. His 
 idea of the Italian taste was to paint as black and dirty as he 
 could, and to leave all clearness and brilliancy of colouring to 
 those who were fonder of money than of immortality. The 
 consequence was such as might be expected. For these petty ex- 
 cellencies are here essential beauties - y and without this merit the ar- 
 tist's work will be more short-lived than the objects of his imitation. 
 
 From what has been advanced, we must now be convinced 
 that there are two distinct styles in history- painting : the grand, 
 and the splendid or ornamental. 
 
 The great style stands alone, and does not require, perhaps 
 does not so well admit, any addition from inferior beauties. The 
 ornamental style also possesses its own peculiar merit. However, 
 though the union of the two may make a sort of composite style, 
 3 yet 
 
72 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 yet tHat style is likely to he more imperfect, than either of those 
 which go to its composition, Both kinds have merit, and may 
 be excellent though in different ranks, if uniformity be pre- 
 served, and the general and particular ideas of nature be not 
 mixed. Even the meanest of them is difficult enough to attain ; 
 and the first place being already occupied by the great artists in 
 each department, some of those who followed thought there 
 was less room for them, and "feeling the impulse of ambition 
 and the desire of novelty, and being at the same time perhaps 
 willing to take the shortest way, endeavoured to make for them- 
 selves a place between both. This they have effected by forming 
 an union of the different orders. But as the grave and majestick 
 style would suffer by an union with the florid and gay, so also 
 has the Venetian ornament in some respect, been injured by at- 
 tempting an alliance with simplicity. 
 
 It may be asserted, that the great style is always more or less 
 contaminated by any meaner mixture. But it happens in a few 
 instances, that the lower may be improved by borrowing from 
 the grand. Thus if a portrait-painter is desirous to raise and 
 improve his subject, he has no other means than by approach- 
 ing it to a general idea. He leaves out all the minute breaks 
 and peculiarities in the face, and changes the dress from a tem- 
 porary fashion to one more permanent, which has annexed to 
 it no ideas of meanness from its being familiar to us. But if 
 an exadt resemblance of an individual be considered as the sole 
 object to be aimed at, the portrait-painter will be apt to lose 
 more than he gains by the acquired dignity taken from general 
 nature. It is very difficult to ennoble the character of a coun- 
 tenance 
 
D I S C O U R S E IV. 73 
 
 tenance but at the expense of the likeness, which is what is 
 most generally required by such as sit to the painter. 
 
 Of those who have practised the composite style, and have 
 succeeded in this perilous attempt, perhaps the foremost is 
 Coregio. His style is founded upon modern grace and elegance, 
 to which is superadded something of the simplicity of the grand 
 style. A breadth of light and colour, the general ideas of the 
 drapery, an uninterrupted flow of outline, all conspire to this 
 effect. Next to him (perhaps equal to him) Parmegiano has 
 dignified the genteelness of modern effeminacy, by uniting it 
 with the simplicity of the ancients and the grandeur and severity 
 of Michael Angelo. It must be confessed however that these 
 two extraordinary men, by endeavouring to give the utmost de- 
 gree of grace, have sometimes perhaps exceeded its boundaries, 
 and have fallen into the most hateful of all hateful qualities, 
 affectation. Indeed, it is the peculiar characteristick of men of 
 genius to be afraid of coldness and insipidity, from which they 
 think they never can be too far removed. It particularly happens 
 to these great masters of grace and elegance. They v often boldly 
 drive on to the very verge of ridicule ; the spectator is alarmed, 
 but at the same time admires their vigour and intrepidity: 
 
 Strange graces still, and stranger fights they had, 
 
 Tet ne'er so sure our passion to create, 
 
 As when they touch' d the brink of all ive hate. 
 
 The errors of genius, however, are pardonable, and none 
 even of the more exalted painters are wholly free from them 
 Vol. I L but 
 
74 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 4 
 
 but they have taught us, by the rectitude of their general practice, 
 to correct their own affected or accidental deviation. The very 
 first have not been always upon their guard, and perhaps there 
 is not a fault, but what may take shelter under ' the most vene- 
 rable authorities; yet that style only is perfect, in which the no- 
 blest principles arc uniformly pursued; and those masters only 
 are entitled to the first rank in our estimation, who have enlarged 
 the boundaries of their art, and have raised it to its highest digni- 
 ty, by exhibiting the general ideas of nature. 
 
 On the whole, it seems to me that there is but one presiding 
 principle which regulates, and gives stability to every art. The 
 works, whether of poets, painters, moralists, or historians, 
 which are built upon general nature, live for ever; while those 
 which depend for their existence on particular customs and 
 habits, a partial view of nature, or the fluctuation of fashion, 
 can only be coeval with that which first raised them from obscu- 
 rity. Present time and future may be considered as rivals, and 
 he who solicits the one must expect to be discountenanced by 
 the other. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE V. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10. 1772. 
 
DISCOURSE V. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 I Purpose to carry on in this discourse the subject which I 
 began in my last. It was my wish upon that occasion to 
 incite you to pursue the higher excellencies of the art. But 
 I fear that in this particular I have been misunderstood. Some 
 are ready to imagine, when any of their favourite acquirements 
 in the art are properly classed, that they are utterly disgraced. 
 This is a very great mistake: nothing has its proper lustre but 
 in its proper place. That which is most worthy of esteem in 
 its allotted sphere, becomes an object, not of respect, but of 
 derision, when it is forced into a higher, to which it is not suited; 
 and there it becomes doubly a source of disorder, by occupying 
 a situation which is not natural to it, and by putting down from 
 the first place what is in reality of too much magnitude to become 
 with grace and proportion that subordinate station, to which some- 
 thing of less value would be much better suited. 
 
 My advice in a word is this : keep your principal attention fixed 
 upon the higher excellencies. If you compass them and compass 
 nothing more, you are still in the first class. We may regret 
 the innumerable beauties which you may want; you may be very 
 imperfect; but still, you are an imperfect artist of the highest 
 order* 
 
 If, 
 
78 , D I S C O U R S E V. 
 
 If, when you have got thus far, you can add any, or all, 
 of the subordinate qualifications, it is my wish and advice that 
 you mould not neglect them. But this is as much a matter of 
 circumspection and caution at least, as of eagerness and pursuit. 
 
 The mind is apt to be distracted by a multiplicity of objects; 
 and that scale of perfection, which I wish always to be pre- 
 served, is in the greatest danger of being totally disordered, and 
 even inverted. 
 
 Some excellencies bear to be united, and are improved by 
 union ; others are of a discordant nature ; and the attempt to 
 join them, only produces a harsh jarring of incongruent prin- 
 ciples. The attempt to unite contrary excellences (of form, 
 for instance,) in a single figure, can never escape degenerating 
 into the monstrous, but by sinking into the insipid ; by taking 
 away its marked character, and weakening its expreffion. 
 
 This remark is true to a certain degree with regard to the 
 passions. If you mean to preserve the most perfect beauty in 
 its most perfect state, you cannot express the passions, all of 
 which produce distortion and deformity, more or less, in the 
 most beautiful faces. 
 
 Guido, from want of choice in adapting his subject to his 
 ideas and his powers, or from attempting to preserve beauty 
 where it could not be preserved, has in this respect succeeded 
 very ill. His figures are often engaged in subjects that required 
 great expression : yet his Judith and Holofernes, the daughter 
 
 3 of 
 
DISCOURSE V. 7 | 
 
 of Herodias with the Baptist's head, the Andromeda, and some 
 even of the Mothers of the Innocents, have little more expression 
 than his Venus attired by the Graces, 
 
 Obvious as these remarks appear, there are many writers 
 on our art, who, not being of the profession, and consequent- 
 ly not knowing what can or cannot be done, have been very 
 liberal of absurd praises in their descriptions of favourite works. 
 They always find in them what they are resolved to find. They 
 praise excellencies that can hardly exist together j and above all 
 things are fond of describing with great exactness the expression, 
 of a mixed passion, which more particularly appears to me out 
 of the reach of our art. 
 
 Such are many disquisitions which I have read on some 
 of the Cartoons and other pictures of Raffaelle, where the Critic ks 
 have described their own imaginations ; or indeed where the 
 excellent master himself may have attempted this expression of 
 passions above the powers of the art ; and has therefore, by an 
 indistinct and imperfect marking, left room for every imagination, 
 with equal probability to find a passion of his own. What has 
 been, and what can be done in the art, is sufficiently difficult >• 
 we need not be mortified or discouraged at not being able to ex- 
 ecute the conceptions of a romantick imagination. Art has its 
 boundaries, though Imagination has none. We can easily, 
 like the Antients, suppose a Jupiter to be possessed of all those 
 powers and perfections which the subordinate Deities were en- 
 dowed with separately. Yet, when they employed their art to 
 represent him, they confined his character to .majesty alone. 
 
 Pliny, 
 
8o DISCOURSE V. 
 
 Pliny, therefore, though we are under great obligations to him 
 for the information he has given us in relation to the works of 
 the antient artists, is very frequently wrong when he speaks of 
 them, which he does very often in the style of many of our modern 
 Connoiffeurs. He observes, that in a statue of Paris, by Eu- 
 phranor, you might discover at the same time three different 
 characters ; the dignity of a Judge of the Goddesses, the Lover 
 of Plelen, and the conqueror of Achilles. A statue in which 
 you endeavour to unite stately dignity, youthful elegance, and 
 stern valour, must surely possess none of these to any eminent 
 degree. 
 
 From hence it appears, that there is much difficulty as well 
 as danger, in an endeavour to concentrate in a single subject 
 those various powers, which, rising from different points, 
 naturally move in different directions. 
 
 The summit of excellence seems to be an assemblage of con- 
 trary qualities, but mixed, in such proportions, that no one 
 part is found to counteract the other. How hard this is to be 
 attained in every art, those only know, who have made the 
 greatest progress in their respective professions. 
 
 To conclude what I have to say on this part of the subject, 
 which I think of great importance, I wish you to understand, 
 that I do not discourage the younger Students from the noble 
 attempt of uniting all the excellencies of art ; but suggest to 
 them, that, beside the difficulties which attend every arduous 
 attempt, there is a peculiar difficulty in the choice of the excel- 
 lencies 
 
DISCOURSE V. Si 
 
 lencies which ought to be united. I wish you to attend to this, 
 that you may try yourselves, whenever you are capable of that 
 trial, what you can, and what you cannot do ; and that, instead 
 of dissipating your natural faculties over the immense field of 
 possible excellence, you may choose some particular walk in 
 which you may exercise all your powers ; in order that each of 
 you may become the first in his way. If any man shall be mas- 
 ter of such a transcendent, commanding, and ductile genius, 
 as to enable him to rise to the highest, and to stoop to the lowest, 
 flights of art, and to sweep over all of them unobstructed and 
 secure, he is fitter to give example than to receive instruction. 
 
 Having said thus much on the union of excellencies, I 
 will next say something of the subordination in which various 
 excellencies ought to be kept. 
 
 I am of opinion, that the ornamental style, which in my 
 discourse of last year I cautioned you against, considering it as 
 principal, may not be w r holly unworthy the attention even of 
 those who aim at the grand style, when it is properly placed and 
 properly reduced. 
 
 But this study will be used with far better effect, if its prin- 
 ciples are employed in softening the harshness and mitigating 
 the rigour of the great style, than if it attempt to stand forward 
 with any pretensions of its own to positive and original excellence. 
 It was thus Lodovico Carracci, whose example I formerly re- 
 commended to you, employed it. He was acquainted with the 
 works both of Coreggio and the Venetian painters, and knew 
 
 Vol. I. M the 
 
82 
 
 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 the principles by which they produced those pleasing effects 
 which at the first glance prepossess us so much in their favour; 
 but he took only as much from each as would embellish, but 
 not over-power, that manly strength and energy of style, which 
 is his peculiar character* 
 
 Since I have already expatiated so largely in- my former dis- 
 course, and in my present, upon the styles and characters of 
 Painting, it will not be at all unsuitable to my subject if I men- 
 tion to you some particulars relative to the leading principles, 
 and capital works of those who excelled in the great style ; that 
 I may bring you from abstraction nearer to practice, and by 
 exemplifying the positions which I have laid down, enable you 
 to understand more clearly what I would enforce 
 
 Th e principal works of modern art are in Fresco ; a mode 
 of Painting which excludes attention to minute elegancies : yet 
 these works in Fresco, are the productions on which the fame 
 of the greatest masters depend : such are the pictures of Michael 
 i\ngelo and Raffaelle in the Vatican ; to which we may add the 
 Cartoons; which, though not strictly to be called Fresco, yet 
 may be put under that denomination ; and such are the works 
 of Giulio Romano at Mantua. If these performances were 
 destroyed, with thern would be lost the best part of the repu- 
 tation of those illustrious painters ; for these are justly consi- 
 dered as the greatest efforts of our art which the world can boast. 
 To these, therefore, we should principally direct our attention for 
 higher excellencies. As for the lower arts, as they have been 
 
 once 
 
DISCOURSE V. $3 
 •once discovered, they may be easily attained by those possessed 
 of the former. 
 
 Raffaelle, who stands in general foremost of the fir ft pain- 
 ters, owes his reputation, as I have observed, to his excellence in 
 /the higher parts of the art : his works in Fresco, therefore, ought 
 to be the first object of our study and attention. His easel- works 
 stand in a lower degree of estimation ; for though he continually, 
 to the day of his death, embellished his performances more and 
 more with the addition of those lower ornaments, which entire- 
 ly make the merit of some painters, yet he never arrived at such 
 perfection as to make him an object of imitation. He never was 
 able to conquer perfectly that dryness, or even littleness of man- 
 ner, which he inherited from his master. He never acquired 
 that nicety of taste in colours, that breadth of light and shadow, 
 that art and management of uniting light to light, and shadow 
 to shadow, so as to make the object rise out of the ground with 
 that plenitude of effect so much admired in the works of Co- 
 reggio. When he painted in oil, his hand seemed to be so cram- 
 ped and confined, that he not only lost that facility and spirit, 
 but I think even that correctness of form, which is so perfect and 
 admirable in his Fresco-works. I do not recollect any pictures 
 of his of this kind, except perhaps the Transfiguration, in which 
 there are not some parts that appear to be even feebly drawn. 
 That this is not a necessary attendant on Oil-painting, we hwe 
 abundant instances in more modern painters. Lodovico Carracci, 
 for instance, preserved in his works in oil the same spirit, 
 vigour, and correctness, which he had in Fresco. I have no desire 
 to degrade RafFaellc from the high rank which he deservedly 
 
 M 2 holds: 
 
8 4 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 holds j but by comparing him with himself, he does not appear 
 to me to be the same man in Oil as in Fresco. 
 
 Fr om those who have ambition to tread in this great walk 
 of the art, Michael Angelo claims the next attention. He did not 
 possess so many excellencies as RafFaelle, but those which he had 
 were of the highest kind. He considered the art as consisting 
 of little more than what may be attained by Sculpture - } correctness 
 of form, and energy of character. We ought not to expect 
 more than an artist intends in his work. He never attempted 
 those lesser elegancies and graces in the art. Vasari says, he 
 never painted but one picture in oil, and resolved never to paint 
 another, saying, it was an employment only fit for women and 
 children. 
 
 If any man had a right to look down upon the lower accom- 
 plishments as beneath his attention, it was certainly Michael 
 Angelo ; nor can it be thought strange, that such a mind should 
 have slighted or have been withheld from paying due attention 
 to all those graces and embellishments of art, which have dif- 
 fused such lustre over the works of other painters, 
 
 It must be acknowledged, however, that together with these, 
 which we wish he had more attended to, he has rejected all the 
 false, though specious ornaments, which disgrace the works 
 even of the most esteemed artists ; and I will venture to say, 
 that when those higher excellencies are more known and culti- 
 vated by the artists and the patrons of arts, his fame and credit 
 will encrease with our encreasing knowledge. His name will. 
 
 o then 
 
DISCOURSE V. S 5 
 
 then be held in the same veneration as it was in the enlightened 
 age of Leo the tenth : and it is remarkable that the reputation 
 of this truly great man has been continually declining as the 
 art itself his declined. For I must remark to you, that it has 
 long been much on the decline, and that our only hope of its 
 revival will consist in your being thoroughly sensible of its 
 depravation and decay. It is to Michael Angelo, that v/e owe 
 even the existence of Raffaelle: it is to him Raffaelle owes 
 the grandeur of his style. He was taught by him to elevate his 
 thoughts, and to conceive his subjects wish dignity. His genius, 
 however formed to blaze and to shine, might, like fire in com- 
 bustible matter, for ever have lain dormant, if it had not caught 
 a spark by its contact with Michael Angelo : and though it 
 never burst out with his extraordinary heat and vehemence, 
 yet it must be acknowledged to be a more pure, regular, and 
 chaste flame. Though our judgement must upon the whole decide 
 in favour of Raffaelle, yet he never takes such a firm hold and 
 entire possession of the mind as to make us desire nothing 
 else, and to feel nothing wanting. The effect of the capital 
 works of Michael Angelo perfectly corresponds to what Bou- 
 chardon said he felt from reading Homer ; his whole frame 
 appeared to himself to be enlarged, and all nature which 
 surrounded him, diminished to atoms. 
 
 If we put these great artists in a light of comparison with 
 each other, Raffaelle had more Taste and Fancy, Michael Angelo 
 more Genius and Imagination. The one excelled in beauty, 
 the other in energy. Michael Angelo has more of the 
 Poetical Inspiration ; his ideas are vast and sublime; his people 
 
 are 
 
36 D I SCO U RSE V. 
 
 are a superior order of beings ; there is nothing about them, 
 .nothing in the air of their actions or their attitudes, or the style 
 and cast of their limbs or features, that reminds us of their be- 
 longing to our own species. RafFaelle's imagination is not so 
 elevated ; his figures are not so much disjoined from our own 
 .diminutive race of beings, though his ideas are chaste, noble, 
 and of great conformity to their subjects. Michael Angelo's 
 works have a strong, peculiar, and marked character: they seem 
 to proceed from his own mind entirely, and that mind so rich 
 and abundant, that he never needed, or seemed to disdain, 
 to look abroad for foreign help. RafFaelle's materials are ge- 
 nerally borrowed, though the noble structure is his own. The 
 excellency of this extraordinary man lay in the propriety, beauty, 
 and majesty of his characters, the judicious contrivance of 
 his Composition, his correctness of Drawing, purity of Taste, 
 ;and skilful accommodation of other men's conceptions to his 
 own purpose. Nobody excelled him in that judgment, with 
 which he united to his own observations on Nature, the Energy 
 of Michael Angelo, and the Beauty and Simplicity of the 
 Antique. To the question therefore, which ought to hold 
 the first rank, Raffaelle or Michael Angelo, it must be answered, 
 that if it is to be given to him who possessed a greater combina- 
 tion of the higher qualities of the art than any other man, there 
 is no doubt but Raffaelle is the first. But if, as Longinus 
 thinks, the sublime, being the highest excellence that human 
 composition can attain to, abundantly compensates the absence 
 of every other beauty, and atones for all other deficiencies, 
 then Michael Angelo demands the preference. 
 
 These 
 
DISCOURSE V. 87 
 
 These two extraordinary men carried some of the higher 
 excellencies of the art to a greater degree of perfection than' 
 probably they ever arrived- at before. They certainly have not- 
 been excelled, nor equalled since. Many of their successors- 
 were induced to leave this great road as a beaten path, endeavour- 
 ing to surprise and please by something uncommon or new. When 
 this desire of novelty has proceeded from mere idleness or caprice, 
 it is not worth the trouble of criticism ; but when it has been, 
 the result of a busy mind of a peculiar complexion, it is always 
 striking and interesting, never insipid. 
 
 Such is the great style, as it appears in those who possessed 
 it at its height : in this, search after novelty, in conception oz 
 in treating the subject, has no place » 
 
 But there is another style, which, though inferior to the 
 former, has still great merit, because it shews that those who 
 cultivated it were men of lively and vigorous imagination. This, 
 which may be called the original or characteristicaL style, being 
 less referred to any true architype existing . either in general cr 
 particular nature, must be supported by the painter's consistency 
 in the principles which he has assumed, and in the union and har- 
 mony of his whole design. The excellency of every style, but of 
 the subordinate styles more especially, will very much depend on 
 preserving that union and harmony between all the component 
 • parts, that they may appear to hang well together, as if the 
 whole proceeded from one mind. It is in the works of art, as 
 in the characters of men. The faults or defects of some men 
 seem to become them, when they appear to be the natural growth, 
 
 and 
 
23 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 and of a piece with the rest of their character. A faithful pic- 
 ture of a mind, though it be not of the most elevated kind, 
 though it be irregular, wild, and incorrect, yet if it be marked 
 with that spirit and firmness which characterises works of genius., 
 will claim attention, and be more striking than a combination 
 of excellencies that q!o not seem to unite well together;, or 
 we may say, than a work that possesses even all excellencies., 
 but those in a moderate degree. 
 
 One of the strongest- marked characters of this kind, which 
 must be allowed to be subordinate to the great style, is that of 
 Salvator Rosa. He gives us a peculiar cast of nature, which, 
 though void of ail grace, elegance, and simplicity, though it 
 has nothing of that elevation and dignity which belongs to the 
 grand style, yet, has that sort of dignity which belongs to savage 
 and uncultivated nature : but what is most to be admired in him, 
 is, the perfect correspondence which he observed between the 
 subjects which he chose and his manner of treating them. Every 
 thing is of a piece : his Rocks, Trees, Sky, even to his hand- 
 ling, have the same rude and wild character which animates 
 his figures. 
 
 With him we may contrast the character of Carlo Maratti, 
 who, in my opinion, had no great vigour of mind or strength 
 of original genius. He rarely seizes the imagination by exhi- 
 biting the higher excellencies, nor does he captivate us by that 
 originality which attends the painter who thinks for himself. 
 He knew and practised all the rules of art, and from a com- 
 position 
 
DTSCOURSE V. » 9 . 
 
 ©f RafFaelle, Carracci, and Guido, made up a style, of which the 
 only fault was, that it had no manifest defects and no striking- 
 beauties ; and that the principles of his composition are never 
 blended together, so as to form one uniform body, original in its 
 kind, or excellent in any view. 
 
 I will mention two other painters, who, though entirely 
 dissimilar, yet by being each consistent with himself and posses*- 
 sing a manner entirely his own, have- both gained reputation, 
 though for very opposite accomplishments. The painters I 
 mean, are Rubens and Poussin. Rubens I mention in this 
 place, as I think him a remarkable instance of the same mind 
 being seen in all the various parts of the art. The whole is so much 
 of a piece, that one can scarce be brought to believe but that 
 if any one of the qualities he possessed had been more correct 
 and perfect, his w r orks would not have been so complete as they now 
 appear. If we should allow him a greater purity and correctness 
 of Drawing, his want of Simplicity in Composition, Colourings 
 and Drapery, would appear more gross. . 
 
 In his Composition his art is too apparent. His figures 
 have- expression, and act with energy, but without simplicity cr 
 dignity. His Colouring, in which he is eminently skilled, is 
 notwithstanding too much of what we call tinted. Throughout 
 the whole of his works, there is a proportionable want or that 
 nicety, of distinction and elegance of mind, which is required 
 in the higher walks of painting; and to this wane it may be in 
 some degree ascribed, that those qualities which make the excels 
 lency of this subordinate style, appear in him with their greatest 
 
 Vol. I. N lustre 
 
90 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 lustre. Indeed the facility with which he invented, the richness, 
 of his composition, the luxuriant harmony and brilliancy of 
 his colouring, so dazzle the eye, that whilst his works continue 
 before us, we cannot help thinking that all his deficiences are 
 fully supplied. 
 
 Opposed to this florid, careless, loose, and inaccurate style, 
 that of the simple, careful, pure, and correct style of Poussin 
 seems to be a complete contrast. Yet however opposite their 
 characters, in one thing they agreed ; both of them always pre- 
 serving a perfect correspondence between all the parts of their 
 respective manners : insomuch that it may be doubted whether 
 any alteration of what is considered as defective in either, would 
 not destroy the effect of the whole. 
 
 Poussin lived and conversed with the ancient statues so long, 
 that he may be said to have been better acquainted v/ith them, than 
 with the people who were about him. I have often thought 
 that he carried his veneration for them so far as to wish to give 
 his works the air of Ancient Paintings. It is certain he copied 
 some of the Antique Paintings, particularly the Marriage in 
 the Aldobrandini- Palace at Rome, which I believe to be the 
 best relique of those remote ages that has yet been found. 
 
 No works of any modern has so much of the air of Antique 
 Painting as those of Poussin. His best performances have a 
 remarkable -dryness of manner, which though by no means to 
 be recommended for imitation, yet seems perfectly correspon- 
 dent to that ancient simplicity which distinguishes his style. 
 
 3 Like 
 
DISCOURSE V. 91 
 
 Like Polidoro he studied the ancients so much, that he acquired 
 a habit of thinking in their way, and seemed to know perfectly 
 the actions and gestures they would use on every occasion. 
 
 Poussin in the latter part of his life changed from his dry 
 manner to one much softer and richer, where there is a greater 
 union between the figures and the eround: as in the Seven Sacra- 
 ments in the Duke of Orleans's collection ; but neither these, 
 nor any of his other pictures in this manner, are at all compa- 
 rable to many in his dry manner which we have in England. 
 
 The favourite subjects of Poussin were Ancient Fables; 
 and no painter was ever better qualified to paint such subjects, 
 not only from his being eminently skilled in the knowledge 
 of the ceremonies, customs and habits of the Ancients, but 
 from his being so well acquainted with the different characters 
 which those who invented them gave to their allegorical figures. 
 Though Rubens has shewn great fancy in his Satyrs, Silenuses, 
 and Fauns, yet they are not that distinct separate class of beings, 
 which is carefully exhibited by the Ancients, and by Poussin. 
 Certainly when such subjects of antiquity are represented, no- 
 thing in the picture ought to remind us of modern times. The 
 mind is thrown back into antiquity, and nothing ought to be 
 introduced that may tend to awaken it from the illusion. 
 
 Poussin seemed to think that the style and the language 
 in which such stories are told, is not the worse for preserving 
 some relish of the old way of painting, which seemed to give 
 
 N 2 a general 
 
9 i DISCOURSE V. 
 
 -a general uniformity to the whole, so that the mind was thrown 
 back into antiquity not only by the subject, but the execution. 
 
 If Poussin in imitation of the Ancients represents Apollo 
 driving his chariot out of the sea by way of representing the 
 Sun rising, if he personifies Lakes and Rivers, it is nowise 
 offensive in him ; but seems perfectly of a piece with the gene- 
 ral air of the picture. On the contrary, if the Figures which 
 people his pictures had a modern air or countenance, if they ap- 
 peared like our countrymen, if the draperies were like cloth 
 or silk of our manufacture, if the landskip had the appearance 
 of a modern view, how ridiculous would Apollo appear instead 
 of the Sun; an old Man, or a Nymph with an urn, to represent 
 a River or a Lake ? 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here a circumstance in portrait- 
 painting, which may help to confirm what has been said. When 
 a portrait is painted in the Historical Style, as it is neither an 
 exact minute representation of an individual, nor completely ideal, 
 every circumstance ought to correspond to this mixture. The 
 simplicity of the antique air and attitude, however much to 
 be admired, is ridiculous when joined to a figure in a modern dress. 
 It is not to my purpose to enter into the question at present, 
 whether this mixed style ought to be adopted or not ; yet if it is 
 chosen, 'tis neceflary it should be complete and all of a piece : 
 the difference of stuffs, for instance, which make the cloathing, 
 should be distinguished in the same degree as the head deviates 
 from a general idea. Without this union, which I have so often 
 recommended, a work can have no marked and determined 
 
 character, 
 
DISCOURSE V. 93 
 
 character, which is the peculiar and constant evidence of genius. 
 But when this is accomplished to a high degree, it becomes in 
 some sort a rival to that style which we have fixed as the highest. 
 
 Thus I have given a sketch of the characters of Rubens and 
 Salvator Rosa, as they appear to me to have the greatest unifor- 
 mity of mind throughout their whole work. But we may add to 
 these, all those Artists who are at the head of a class, and have had 
 a school of imitators from Michael Angelo down to Vatteau. 
 Upon the whole it appears, that setting aside the Ornamental 
 Style, there are two different modes, either of which a Student 
 may adopt without degrading the dignity of his art. The 
 object of the first is, to combine the higher excellencies and 
 embellish them to the greatest advantage; of the other, to 
 carry one of these excellencies to the highest degree. But those 
 who possess neither must be classed with them, who, as Shak- 
 speare says, are men of no mark or likelihood. 
 
 I inculcate as frequently as I can your forming yourselves 
 upon great principles and great models. Your time will be 
 much misspent in every other pursuit. Small excellencies should 
 be viewed, not studied ; they ought to be viewed, because nothing 
 ought to escape a Painter's observation; but for no other reason. 
 
 There is another caution which I wish to give you. Be 
 as select in those whom you endeavour to please, as in those 
 whom you endeavour to imitate. Without the love of fame 
 you can never do any thing excellent ; but by an excessive and 
 undistinguishing thirst after it, you will come to have vulgar 
 
 views ; 
 
$4 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 views ; you will degrade your style ; and your taste will be 
 entirely corrupted. It is certain that the lowest style will be 
 the most popular, as it falls within the compass of ignorance 
 itself ; and the Vulgar will always be pleased with what is natu- 
 ral, in the confined and misunderstood sense of the word. 
 
 One would wifh that such depravation of taste mould be 
 counteracted with that manly pride which actuated Euripides 
 when he said to the Athenians who criticised his works, ** I do 
 *' not compose my works in order to be corrected by you, but to 
 " instruct you." It is true, to have a right to speak thus, a 
 man must be an Euripides. However, thus much may be 
 allowed, that when an Artist is sure that he is upon firm 
 ground, supported by the authority and practice of his predeces- 
 sors of the greatest reputation, he may then aflume the boldness 
 and intrepidity of genius ; at any rate he must not be tempted 
 out of the right path by any allurement of popularity,, which 
 always accompanies the lower styles of painting. 
 
 I mention this, because our Exhibitions, while they produce 
 such admirable effects by nourifhing emulation and calling out 
 genius, have also a mischievous tendency, by seducing the Painter 
 to an ambition of pleasing indiscriminately the mixed multitude 
 of people who resort to them* 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES* 
 
 DECEMBER 10, 1774. 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 II 7 HEN I have taken the liberty of addressing you on the 
 * • course and order of your studies, I never proposed to 
 enter into a minute detail of the art. This I have always left to? 
 the several Professors, who pursue the end of our institution 
 with the -highest honour to themselves, and with the greatest 
 advantage to the Students. 
 
 My purpose in the discourses I have held in the Academy has 
 been, to lay down certain general positions, which seem to me pro- 
 per for the formation of a sound taste: principles, necessary to 
 guard the pupils against those errors, into which the sanguine 
 temper common to their time of life has a tendency to lead 
 them ; and which have rendered abortive the hopes of so many 
 successions of promising young men in all parts of Europe. I 
 wished also, to intercept and suppress those prejudices which 
 particularly prevail when the mechanism of painting is come 
 to its perfection ; and which, when they do prevail, are certain 
 utterly to destroy the higher and more valuable parts of this 
 literate and liberal profession. 
 
 These two have been my principal purposes; they are still 
 as much my concern, as ever; and if I repeat my own notions on 
 Vol. I. O the 
 
9 8 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 the subject, you who know how fast mistake and prejudice, 
 when neglected, gain ground upon truth and reason, will easily 
 excuse me. I only attempt to set the same thing in the greatest- 
 variety of lights. 
 
 The subject of this discourse will be Imitation, as far as a pain- 
 ter is concerned in it. By imitation I do not mean imitation in 
 its largest sense, but simply the following of other masters, and 
 the advantage to be drawn from the study of their works. 
 
 Those who have undertaken to write on our art, and have 
 represented it as a kind of inspiration, as a gift bestowed upoa 
 peculiar favourites at their birth, seem to insure a much more 
 favourable disposition from their readers, and have a much more 
 captivating and liberal air, than he who attempts to examine, 
 coldly, whether there are any means by which this art may be 
 acquired ; how the mind may be strengthened and expanded, 
 and what guides will shew the way to eminence. 
 
 It is very natural for those who are unacquainted with the 
 cause of any thing extraordinary, to be astonished at the effeft, 
 and to consider it as a kind of magick. They, who have never 
 observed the gradation by which art is acquired; who see only 
 what is the full result of long labour and application of an infi- 
 nite lumber and infinite variety of acts, are apt to conclude 
 from their entire inability to do the same at once, that it is not 
 only inaccessible to themselves, but can be done by those only, 
 who have some gift of the nature of inspiration bestowed upon 
 them. 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 99 
 
 The travellers into the East tell us, that when the ignorant 
 inhabitants of those countries are asked concerning the ruins of 
 stately edifices yet remaining amongst them, the melancholy 
 monuments of their former grandeur and long-lost science, they 
 always answer, that they were built by magicians. The un- 
 taught mind finds a vast gulph between its own powers, and 
 those works of complicated art, which it is utterly unable to 
 fathom ; and it supposes that such a void can be passed only by 
 supernatural powers. 
 
 And, as for artists themselves, it is by no means their interest 
 to undeceive such judges, however conscious they may be of 
 the very natural means by which their extraordinary powers were 
 acquired ; though our art, being intrinsically imitative, rejects 
 this idea of inspiration, more perhaps than any other. 
 
 It is to avoid this plain confession of truth, as it should seem, 
 that this imitation of masters, indeed almost all imitation, 
 which implies a more regular and progressive method of attaining 
 the ends of painting, has ever been particularly inveighed against 
 with great keenness, both by ancient and modern writers. 
 
 To derive all from native power, to owe nothing to another, 
 is the praise which men, who do not much think on what they 
 are saying, bestow sometimes upon others, and sometimes on 
 themselves ; and their imaginary dignity is naturally heightene4 
 by a supercilious censure of the low, the barren, the groveling, 
 the servile imitator. It would be no wonder if a student, 
 frightened by these terrifick and disgraceful epithets, with which 
 
 O 2 the 
 
ioo DISCOURSE Vr. 
 
 the poor imitators are so often loaded, should let fall his pencil 
 in mere despair; (conscious as he must be, how much he has 
 been indebted to the labours of others, how little, how very 
 little of his art was born with him;) and, consider it as hope- 
 less, to set about acquiring by the imitation of any human mas- 
 ter, what he is taught to suppose is matter of inspiration from 
 heaven. 
 
 Some allowance must be made for what is said in tfre gaiety 
 or ambition of rhetorick. We cannot suppose that any one can. 
 really mean to exclude all imitation of others. A position so 
 wild would scarce deserve a serious answer; for it is apparent, 
 if we were forbid to make use of the advantages which our pre- 
 decessors afford us, the art would be always to begin, and con- 
 sequently remain always in its infant state ; and it is a common 
 observation, that no art was ever invented and carried to perfec- 
 tion at the same time. 
 
 But to bring us entirely to reason and sobriety, let it be ob- 
 served, that a painter must not only be of necessity an imitator 
 of the works of nature, which alone is sufficient to dispel this 
 phantom of inspiration, but he must be as necessarily an imita- 
 tor of the works of other painters : this appears more humiliating, 
 but is equally true; and no man can be an artist, whatever he 
 may suppose, upon any other terms. 
 
 However, those who appear more moderate and reasonable, 
 allow, that our study is to begin by imitation ; but maintain that 
 we should no longer use the thoughts of our predecessors, when we 
 
 are 
 
DISCOURSE VI, ior 
 
 are become able to think for ourselves. They hold that imitation 
 is as hurtful to the more advanced student, as it was advantage- 
 ous to the beginner. 
 
 For my own part, I confess, I am not only very much dis- 
 posed to maintain the absolute necessity of imitation in the first 
 stages of the art; but am of opinion, that the study of other 
 masters, which I here call imitation, may be extended throughout 
 our whole lives, without any danger of the inconveniencies with 
 which it is charged, of enfeebling the mind, or preventing us 
 from giving that original air which every work undoubtedly ought 
 always to have. 
 
 I am on the contrary persuaded, that by imitation only, va- 
 riety, and even originality of invention, is produced. I will go 
 further; even genius, at least what generally is so called, is the 
 child of imitation. But as this appears to be contrary to the 
 general opinion, I must explain my position before I enforce it. 
 
 Genius is supposed to be a power of producing excellencies, 
 which are out of the reach of the rules of art ; a power which 
 no precepts can teach, and which no industry can acquire. 
 
 This opinion of the impossibility of acquiring those beauties,, 
 which stamp the work with the character of genius, supposes, 
 that it is something more fixed than in reality it is ; and that we 
 always do, and ever did agree in opinion, with respect to what 
 should be considered as the characteristick of genius. But the truth 
 is, that the degree of excellence which proclaims Genius is different, 
 
 in 
 
102 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 in different times and different places; and what shews it to be so is,, 
 that mankind have often changed their opinion upon this matter. 
 
 When the arts were in their infancy, the power of merely 
 drawing the likeness of any object, was considered as one of its 
 greatest efforts. The common people, ignorant of the princi- 
 ples of art, talk the same language, even to this day. But when 
 it fvas found that every man could be taught to do this, and a 
 threat deal more, merely by the observance of certain precepts ; 
 the name of Genius then shifted its application, and was given 
 only to him who added the peculiar character of the object he 
 represented ; to him who had invention, expression, grace, 
 or dignity ; in short, those qualities, or excellencies, the power 
 of producing which, could not then be taught by any known 
 and promulgated rules. 
 
 We are very sure that the beauty of form, the expression of 
 the passions, the art of composition, even the power of giving 
 a .general air of grandeur to a work, is at present very much 
 under the dominion of rules. These excellencies were, heretofore, 
 considered merely as the effects of genius; and justly, if genius 
 is not taken for inspiration, but as the effect of close observation 
 and experience. 
 
 He who first made any of these observations, and digested 
 them, so as to form an invariable principle for himself to work 
 by, had that merit, but probably no one went very far at once ; 
 and generally, the first who gave the hint, did not know how 
 to pursue it steadily, and methodically; at least not in the begin- 
 ning. 
 
D I S C O U R S E VI. 103 
 
 ningo He himself worked on it, and improved it ; others worked 
 more, and improved further ; until the secret was discovered, 
 and the practice made as general, as refined practice can be made. 
 How many more principles - may be fixed and ascertained, we 
 cannot tell ; but as criticism is likely to go hand in hand with the 
 art which is its subject, we may venture to say, that as that art 
 shall advance, its powers will be still more and more fixed by 
 rules. 
 
 But by whatever strides criticism may gain ground, we need be 
 under no apprehension, that invention will ever be annihilated, 
 or subdued or intellectual energy be brought entirely within 
 the restraint of written law. Genius will still have room enough 
 to expatiate, and keep always at the same distance from narrow 
 comprehension and mechanical performance. 
 
 What we now call Genius, begins, not where rules, abstract- 
 edly taken, end; but where known vulgar and trite rules have 
 no longer any place. It must of necessity be, that even works 
 of Genius, like every other effect, as they must have their 
 cause, must likewise have their rules; it cannot be by chance, 
 that excellencies are produced with any constancy or any cer- 
 tainty, for this is not the nature of chance; but the rules by 
 which men of extraordinary parts, and such as are called men 
 of Genius work, are either such as they discover by their own 
 peculiar observations, or of such a nice texture as not easily to 
 admit being expressed in words ; especially as artists are not very 
 frequently, skilful in that mode of communicating ideas. Un- 
 substantial, however, as these rules may seem, and difficult as 
 
 3 * 
 
io 4 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 it may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen and felt 
 in the mind of the artist; and he works from them with as much 
 certainty, as if they were embodied, as I may say, upon paper. 
 It is true, these refined principles cannot be always made palpa- 
 ble, like the more gross rules of art ; yet it does not follow, but 
 that the mind may be put in such a train, that it shall perceive, 
 by a kind of scientific!?: sense, that propriety, which words, 
 particularly words of unpractised writers, such as we are, can 
 but very feebly suggest. 
 
 Invention is one of the great marks of genius; but if we 
 consult experience, we shall find, that it is by being conversant 
 with the inventions of others, that we learn to invent; as by 
 reading the thoughts of others we learn to think. 
 
 Whoever has so far formed his. taste, as to be able to relish 
 and feel the beauties of the great masters, has gone a great way 
 in his study; for, merely from a consciousness of this relish of 
 the right, the mind swells with an inward pride, and is almost 
 as powerfully affected, as if it had itself produced what it admires. 
 Our hearts frequently warmed in this manner by the contact 
 of those whom we wish to resemble, will undoubtedly catch 
 something of their way of thinking ; and we shall receive in 
 our own bosoms some radiation at least of their fire and splen- 
 dour. That disposition, which is so strong in children, still 
 continues with us, of catching involuntarily the general air and 
 manner of those with whom we are moft conversant; with 
 this difference only, that a young mind is naturally pliable 
 and imitative ; but in a more advanced state it grows rigid, and 
 
 • must 
 
DISCOURSE VI. ioj 
 
 must be warmed and softened, before it will receive a deep im- 
 pression. 
 
 From these considerations, which a little of your own re- 
 flection will carry a great way further, it appears, of what great 
 consequence it is, that our minds should be habituated to the 
 contemplation of excellence ; and that, far from being contented 
 to make such habits the discipline of our youth only, we should, 
 to the last moment of our lives, continue a settled intercourse 
 with all the true examples of grandeur. Their inventions are 
 not only the food of our infancy, but the substance which sup- 
 plies the fullest maturity of our vigour. 
 
 The mind is but a barren soil ; a soil which is soon exhausted, 
 and will produce no crop, or only one, unless it be continually 
 fertilized and enriched with foreign matter. 
 
 When we have had continually before us the great works of 
 Art to impregnate our minds with kindred ideas, we are then, 
 and not till then, fit to produce something of the same species. 
 We behold all about us with the eyes of those penetrating obser- 
 vers whose works we contemplate; and our minds accustomed 
 to think the thoughts of the noblest and brightest intellects, are 
 prepared for the discovery and selection of all that is great and 
 noble in nature. The greatest natural genius cannot subsist on 
 its own stock : he who resolves never to ransack any mind but 
 his own, will be soon reduced, from mere barrenness, to the 
 poorest of all imitations ; he will be obliged to imitate himself, 
 and to repeat what he has before often repeated. When we know 
 
 Vol. I. P the 
 
io6 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 the subject designed by such men, it will never be difficult to 
 guess what kind of work is to be produced. 
 
 It is vain for painters or poets to endeavour to invent without 
 materials on which the mind may work, and from which inven- 
 tion must originate. Nothing can come of nothing. 
 
 Homer is supposed to be possessed of all the learning of his 
 time: and we are certain that Michael Angelo, and RafFaelle, 
 were equally possessed of all the knowledge in the art which had 
 been discovered in the works of their predecessors. 
 
 A mind enriched by an assemblage of all the treasures of 
 ancient and modern art, will be more elevated and fruitful in 
 resources in proportion to the number of ideas which have been 
 carefully collected and thoroughly digested. There can be no 
 doubt but that he who has the most materials has the greatest 
 means of invention ; and if he has not the power of using 
 them, it must proceed from a feebleness of intellect; or from 
 the confused manner in which those collections have been laid 
 up in his mind. 
 
 The addition of other men's judgment is so far from weakening 
 our own, as is the opinion of many, that it will fashion and con- 
 solidate those ideas of excellence which lay in embryo, feeble, 
 ill- shaped, and confused, but which are finished and put in order 
 by the authority and practice of those, whose works may be said 
 to have been consecrated bv having stood the test of ages. 
 
 The 
 
 / 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 307 
 
 The mind, or genius, has been compared to a spark of fire, 
 which is smothered by a heap of fuel, and prevented from blazing 
 into a flame: This simile, which is made use of by the younger 
 Pliny, may be easily mistaken for argument or proof. But there 
 is no danger of the mind's being over-burthencd with knowledge, 
 or the genius extinguished by any addition of images; on the 
 contrary, these acquisitions may as well, perhaps better, be 
 compared, if comparisons signified any thing in reasoning 1 , to 
 the supply of living embers, which will contribute to strengthen 
 the spark, that without the association of mOre fuel would have 
 died away. The truth is, he whose feebleness is such, as to 
 make other men's thoughts an incumbrance to him, can have 
 no very great strength of mind or genius of his own to be de- 
 stroyed ; so that not much harm will be done at worst. 
 
 We may oppose to Pliny the greater authority of Cicero, 
 who is continually enforcing the necessity of this method of study. 
 In his dialogue on Oratory, he makes Crassus say, that one of 
 the first and most important precepts is, to choose a proper . model 
 for our imitation. Hoc sit primum in praceptis mcisX. at damnstre- 
 mus quern imitemur. 
 
 When I speak of the habitual imitation and continued study 
 of masters, it is not to be understood, that I advise any endeavour 
 to copy the exact peculiar colour and complexion of another man's 
 mind; the success cf such an attempt must always be like his, 
 who imitates exactly the air, manner, and gestures, of him whom 
 he admires. His model may be excellent, but the copy will be 
 
 P 2 ridiculous ; 
 
io8 D I S C O U R S E VI. 
 
 ridiculous ; this ridicule does not arise from his having imitated, 
 but from his not having chosen the right mode of imitation. 
 
 It is a necessary and warrantable pride to disdain to walk ser- 
 vilely behind any individual, however elevated his rank. The 
 true and liberal ground of imitation is an open field; where, though 
 he who precedes has had the advantage of starting before you, you 
 may always propose to overtake him : it is enough however to 
 pursue his course; you need not tread in his footsteps ; and you 
 certainly have a right to outstrip him if you can. 
 
 Nor whilst I recommend studying the art from artists, can I 
 be supposed to mean, that nature is to be neglected : I take this 
 study in aid, and not in exclusion, of the other. Nature is, and 
 must be the fountain which alone is inexhaustible; and from 
 which all excellencies must originally flow. 
 
 The great use of studying our predecessors is, to open the 
 mind, to shorten our labour, and to give us the result of the se- 
 lection made by those great minds of what is grand or beautiful 
 in nature : her rich stores are all spread out before us ; but it is 
 an art, and no easy art, to know how or what to choose, and 
 how to attain and secure the object of our choice. Thus the 
 highest beauty of form must be taken from nature; but it is an 
 art of long deduction, and great experience, to know how to 
 find it. We must not content ourselves with merely admiring 
 and relishing; we must enter into the principles on which the 
 work is wrought: these do not swim on the superficies, and 
 consequently are not open to superficial observers. 
 
 Art 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 109 
 
 Art in its perfection is not ostentatious ; it lies hid, and works 
 its effect, itself unseen. It is the proper study and labour of an 
 artist to uncover and find out the latent cause of conspicuous beau- 
 ties, and from thence form principles for his own conduct: such 
 an examination is a continual exertion of the mind ; as great, per- 
 haps, as that of the artist whose works he is thus studying. 
 
 The sagacious imitator does not content himself with merely 
 remarking what distinguishes the different manner or genius of 
 each master ; he enters into the contrivance in the composition, 
 how the masses of lights are disposed, the means by which the 
 effect is produced, how artfully some parts are lost in the ground, 
 others boldly relieved, and how all these are mutually altered 
 and interchanged according to the reason and scheme of the work. 
 He admires not the harmony of colouring alone, but examines 
 by what artifice one colour is a foil to its neighbour. He looks 
 close into the tints, examines of what colours they are composed, 
 till he has formed clear and distinct ideas, and has learnt to see 
 in what harmony and good colouring consists. What is learned 
 in this manner from the worfcs of others becomes really our own, 
 sinks deep, and is never forgotten , nay, it is by seizing on this 
 clue that we proceed forward, and, get further and further in 
 enlarging the principles and improving the practice of our art. 
 
 There can be no doubt, but the art is better learnt from the 
 works themselves than from the precepts which are formed upon 
 those works but if it is difficult to choose proper models for imi- 
 tation, it requires no less circumspection to separate and distinguish 
 what in those models we ought to imitate. 
 
 I CANNOT 
 
no DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 I cannot avoid mentioning here, though it is not my intention 
 .at present to enter into the art and method of study, an error 
 which students are too apt to fall into. He that is forming 
 himself, must look with great caution and wariness on those pe- 
 culiarities, or prominent parts, which at first force themselves 
 upon view; and are the marks, or what is commonly called the 
 manner, by which that individual artist is distinguished. 
 
 Peculiar marks, I hold to be, generally, if not always, 
 defects; however difficult it may be wholly to escape them. 
 
 Peculiarities in the works of art, are like those in the 
 human figure; it is by them that we are cognizable and distin- 
 guished one from another, but they are always so many blemishes; 
 which, however, both in real life and in painting, cease to appear 
 deformities, to those who have them continually before their 
 eyes. In the works of art, even the most enlightened mind, 
 when warmed by beauties of the highest kind, will by degrees 
 find a repugnance within him to acknowledge any defects ; nay, 
 his enthusiasm will carry him so far, as to transform them into 
 beauties, and objects of imitation. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that a peculiarity of style, either 
 from its novelty, or by seeming to proceed from a peculiar turn 
 of mind, often escapes blame; on the contrary, it is sometimes 
 striking and pleasing; but this it is a vain labour to endeavour to 
 imitate; because novelty and peculiarity being its only merit, 
 when it ceases to be new, it ceases to have value. 
 
 3 A MANNER 
 
D I S C O U R S E VI. in 
 
 A manner therefore being a defect, and every painter, 
 however excellent, having a manner, it seems to follow, that all 
 kinds of faults, as well as beauties, may be learned under the 
 sanction of the greatest authorities. Even the great name of 
 Michael Angelo may be used, to keep in countenance a deficiency 
 or rather negled; of colouring, and every other ornamental part 
 of the art. If the young student is dry and hard, Poussin is the 
 same. If his work has a careless and unfinished air, he has 
 most of the Venetian school to support him. If he makes no 
 selection of objects, but takes individual nature just as he finds 
 it, he is like Rembrant. If he is incorrect in the proportions of 
 his figures, Correggio was likewise incorrect. If his colours are 
 not blended and united, Rubens was equally crude. In short, 
 there is no defect that may not be excused, if it is a sufficient excuse 
 that it can be imputed to considerable artists; but it must be re- 
 membered, that it was not by these defects they acquired their 
 reputation; they have a right to our pardon, but not to our ad- 
 miration. 
 
 However, to imitate peculiarities or mistake defects for 
 beauties, that man will be most liable, who confines his imitation 
 to one favourite master; and even though he chooses the best, 
 and is capable of distinguishing the real excellencies of his model, 
 it is not by such narrow practice, that a genius or mastery in the 
 art is acquired. A man is as little likely to form a true idea of 
 the perfection of the art, by studying a single artist, as he would 
 be to produce a perfectly beautiful figure, by an exact imitation 
 of any individual living model. And as the painter, by bringing 
 together in one piece, those beauties which are dispersed among 
 
 a great 
 
ii2 D I S C O U R S E VI. 
 
 a great variety of individuals, produces a figure more beautiful 
 than can be found in nature, so that artist who can unite in him- 
 self the excellencies of the various great painters, will approach nearer 
 to perfection than any one of his masters. He, who confines 
 himself to the imitation of an individual, as he never proposes to 
 surpass, so he is not likely to equal, the object of his imitation. 
 He professes only to follow; and he that follows must necessarily 
 be behind. 
 
 We should imitate the conduct of the great artists in the course of 
 their studies, as well as the works which they produced, when 
 they were perfectly formed. RafFaelle began by imitating im- 
 plicitly the manner of Pietro Perugino, under whom he studied; 
 hence his first works are scarce to be distinguished from his masters ; 
 but soon forming higher and more extensive views, he imitated 
 the grand outline of Michael Angelo; he learned the manner of 
 using colours from the works of Leonardo da Vinci, and Fratre 
 Bartolomeo : to all this he added the contemplation of all the 
 remains of antiquity that were within his reach ; and employed 
 others to draw for him what was in Greece and distant places. 
 And it is from his having taken so many models, that he became 
 himself a model for all succeeding painters ; always imitating, 
 and always original. 
 
 If your ambition, therefore, be to equal RafFaelle, you must do 
 as RafFaelle did; take many models, and not even him for your guide 
 alone to the exclusion of others *. And yet the number is infinite 
 
 * Sol non qui maxime imitandus, etiam solus imitandusest. Qiiintilian. 
 
 of 
 
DISCOURSE VI. 113 
 
 of those who seem, if one may judge by their style, to have seen 
 no other works but those of their master, or of some favourite, 
 whose manner is their first wish, and their last. 
 
 I will mention a few that occur to me of this narrow, con- 
 fined, illiberal, unscientifick, and servile kind of imitators. Guido 
 was thus meanly copied by Elizabetra, Sirani, and Simone Can- 
 tarini; Poussin, by Verdier, and Cheron ; Parmeggiano, by Jeroni- 
 mo Mazzuoli. Paolo Veronese, and Iacomo Bassan, had for 
 their imitators their brothers and sons. Pietro de Cortona was 
 followed by Giro Ferri, and Romanelli ; Rubens, by Jacques 
 Jordans, and Diepenbeck ; Guercino, by his own family, the 
 Gennari. Carlo Maratti was imitated by Giuseppe Chiari, and 
 Pietro da Pietri ; and Rembrant, by Bramer, Eckhout, and Flink. 
 All these, to whom may be added a much longer list of painters, 
 whose works among the ignorant pass for those of their masters, 
 arejustly to be censured for barrenness and servility. 
 
 To oppose to this list a few that have adopted a more liberal 
 style of imitation j — Pelegrino Tibaldi, Rosso, and Primaticcio, 
 did not coldly imitate, but caught something of the fire that ani- 
 mates the works of Michael Angelo. The Caraccis formed 
 their style from Pelegrino Tibaldi, Correggio, and the Venetian 
 School. Domenichino, Guido, Lanfranco, Albano, Guercino, 
 Cavidone, Schidone, Tiarini, though it is sufficiently apparent 
 that they came from the school of the Caraccis, have yet the 
 appearance of men who extended their views beyond the 
 model that lay before them, and have shewn that they had opi- 
 
 Vol. I. nions 
 
ii 4 D I S C O U R S E VI. 
 
 nions of their own, and thought for themselves, after they had 
 made themselves masters of the general principles of their schools. 
 
 Le Sueur's first manner resembles very much that of his 
 master Voiiet: but as he soon excelled him, so he differed from 
 him in every part of the art. Carlo Maratti succeeded better 
 than those I have first named, and I think owes his superiority to 
 the extension of his views ; beside his master Andrea Sacchi, he 
 imitated Raffaelle, Guido, and the Caraccis. It is true, there 
 is nothing very captivating in Carlo Maratti ; but this proceeded 
 from a want which cannot be completely supplied ; that is, want 
 of strength of parts. In this certainly men are not equal ;. and 
 a man can bring home wares only in proportion to the capital 
 with which he goes to market. Carlo, by diligence, made the 
 most of what he had; but there- was undoubtedly a heaviness 
 about him, which extended itself, uniformly, to his invention, 
 expression, his drawing, colouring, and the general effect of 
 his pictures. The truth is, he never equalled any of his patterns 
 in any one thing, and he added little of his own. 
 
 But we must not rest contented even in this general study of the 
 moderns; we must trace back the art to its fountain-head; to 
 that source from whence they drew their principal excellencies, 
 the monuments of pure antiquity. All the inventions and thoughts 
 of the Antients, whether conveyed to us in statues, bas-reliefs, 
 intaglios, cameos, or coins, are to be sought after and carefully 
 studied : the genius that hovers over these venerable reliques, 
 may be called the father of modern art. 
 
 From 
 
D I S C O U R S E VL M5 
 
 From the remains of the works of the antients the modern 
 arts were revived, and it is by their means that they must be 
 restored a second time. However it may mortify our vanity, we 
 must be forced to allow them our masters ; and we may venture 
 to prophecy, that when they shall cease to be studied, arts will 
 no longer flourish, and we shall again relapse into barbarism. 
 
 The fire of the artist's own genius operating upon these ma- 
 terials which have been thus diligently collected, will enable 
 him to make new combinations, perhaps, superior to what had 
 ever before been in the possession of the art: as in the mixture 
 of the variety of metals, which are said to have been melted and 
 run together at the burning of Corinth, a new and till then un- 
 known metal was produced, equal in value to any of those that 
 had contributed to its composition. And though a curious re- 
 liner should come with his crucibles, analyse and separate its 
 various component parts, yet Corinthian brass would still hold 
 its rank amongst the most beautiful and valuable of metals. 
 
 We have hitherto considered the advantages of imitation as 
 it tends to form the taste, and as a practice by which a spark of 
 that genius may be caught, which illumines those noble works 
 that ought always to be present to our thoughts. 
 
 We come now to speak of another kind of imitation ; the 
 borrowing a particular thought, an action, attitude, or figure, 
 and transplanting it into your own work : this will either come 
 under the charge of plagiarism, or be warrantable, and deserve 
 commendation, according to the address with which it is per- 
 
 Q^2 formed. 
 
n6 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 formed. There is some difference likewise, whether it is upon 
 the antients or the moderns that these depredations are made. It 
 is generally allowed, that no man need be ashamed of copying 
 the antients: their works are considered as a magazine of com- 
 mon property, always open to the publick, whence every man 
 has a right to take what materials he pleases ; and if he has the art 
 of using them, they are supposed to become to all intents and 
 purposes his own property. The collection of the thoughts of 
 the antients, which Raffaelle made with so much trouble, is 
 a proof of his opinion on this subject. Such collections may be 
 made with much more ease, by means of an art scarce known 
 in his time j I mean that of engraving ; by which, at an easy 
 rate, every man may now avail himself of the inventions of 
 antiquity. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that the works of the moderns are 
 more the property of their authors ; he, who borrows an idea from an 
 antient, or even from a modern artist not his contemporary, and. 
 so accommodates it to his own work, that it makes a part of it, 
 with ho seam or joining appearing, can hardly be charged with 
 plagiarism : poets practise this kind of borrowing, without reserve. 
 But an artist should not be contented with this only; he should 
 enter into a competition with his original, and endeavour to im- 
 prove what he is appropriating to his own work. Such imitation 
 is so far from having any thing in it of the servility of plagiarism, 
 that it is a perpetual exercise of the mind, a continual invention. 
 Borrowing or stealing with such art and caution, will have a 
 right to the same lenity as was used by the Lacedemonians ; who 
 did not punish theft, but the want of artifice to conceal it. 
 
 la 
 
DISCOURSE VI. n 7 
 
 In order to encourage you to imitation, to the utmost extent, 
 let me add, that very finished artists in the inferior branches of 
 the art, will contribute to furnish the mind and give hints, of 
 •which a skilful painter, who is sensible of what he wants, and 
 is in no danger of being infected by the contact of vicious models, 
 will know how to avail himself. He will pick up from dung- 
 hills what by a nice chymistry, passing through his own mind, 
 shall be converted into pure gold; and, under the rudeness of 
 Gothick essays, he will find original, rational, and even sublime 
 inventions. 
 
 The works of Albert Durer, Lucas Van Leyden, the nume- 
 rous inventions of Tobias Stimer, and Jost Ammon, afford a 
 rich mass of genuine materials, which wrought up and polished 
 to elegance, will add copiousness to what, perhaps, without 
 such aid, could have aspired only to justness and propriety. 
 
 In the luxuriant style of Paul Veronese, in the capricious 
 compositions of Tintoret, he will find something, that will 
 assist his invention, and give points, from which his own imagi- 
 nation shall rise and take flight, when the subject which he 
 treats will with propriety admit of splended effects. 
 
 In every school, whether Venetian, French, or Dutch, he 
 will find, either ingenious compositions, extraordinary effects, 
 some peculiar expressions, or some mechanical excellence, well 
 worthy of his attention, and, in some measure, of his imitation. 
 Even in the lower class of the French painters great beauties arc 
 often found united with great defects. Though Coypel wanted. 
 
 1 a sim- 
 
lit 
 
 DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 a simplicity of taste, and mistook a presumptuous and assuming 
 air for what is grand and majestick ; yet he frequently has good 
 sense and judgment in his -manner of telling his stories, great 
 skill in his compositions, and is not without a considerable 
 power of expressing the passions. The modern affectation of 
 grace in his works, as well as in those of Bouche and Vatteau, 
 may be said to be separated, by a very thin partition, from the 
 more simple and pure grace of Correggio and Parmeggiano, 
 
 Among the Dutch painters, the correct, firm, and deter- 
 mined pencil, which was employed by Bamboccio and Jean Miel, 
 on vulgar and mean subjects, might, without any change, be 
 employed on the highest; to which, indeed, it seems more pro- 
 perly to belong. The greatest style, if that style is confined to 
 small figures, such as Poussin generally painted, would receive 
 an additional grace by the elegance and precision of pencil so 
 admirable in the works of Teniers ; and though the school to 
 which he belonged more particularly excelled in the mechanism 
 of painting, yet it produced many, who have shewn great abilities 
 in expressing what must be ranked above mechanical excellencies. 
 In the works of Frank Halls, the portrait- painter may observe 
 the composition of a face, the features well put together, as the 
 painters express it ; from whence proceeds that strong-marked 
 character of individual nature, which is so remarkable in his por- 
 traits, and is not found in an equal degree in any other painter. 
 If he had joined to this most difficult part of the art, a patience 
 in finishing what he had so correC'riy planned, he might justly 
 have claimed the place which Vandyck, all things considered, 
 so justly holds as the first of portrait-painters. 
 
 Others 
 
« 
 
 DISCOURSE VL 1*9 
 
 Others of the same school have shewn great power in expres- 
 sing the character and passions of those vulgar people, which 
 were the subjects of their study and attention. Among those 
 Jean Stein seems to be one of the most diligent and accurate ob- 
 servers of what passed in those scenes which he frequented, and 
 which were to him an academy. I can easily imagine, that if 
 this extraordinary man had had the good fortune to have been 
 born in Italy, instead of Holland, had he lived in Rome instead 
 of Leyden, and been blessed with Michael Angelo and RafTaelle 
 for his masters, instead of Brower and Van Gowen; the same 
 sagacity and penetration which distinguished so accurately the 
 different characters and expression in his vulgar figures, would, 
 when exerted in the selection and imitation of what was great and 
 elevated in nature, have been equally successful; and he now 
 would have ranged, with the great pillars and supporters of our 
 Ari. 
 
 Men who although thus bound down by the almost invinci- 
 ble powers of early habits, have still exerted extraordinary abilities 
 within their narrow and confined circle; and have, from the 
 natural vigour of their mind, given a very interesting expression, 
 and great force and energy to their works; though they cannot 
 be recommended to be exactly imitated, may yet invite an artist 
 to endeavour to transfer, by a kind of parody, their excellencies to 
 his own performances. Whoever has acquired the power of making 
 this use of the Flemish, Venetian, and French schools, is a 
 real genius, and has sources of knowledge open to him which 
 were wanting to the great artists who lived in the great age of 
 painting. 
 
 To 
 
i2o "DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 To find excellencies, however dispersed, to discover beauties, 
 however concealed by the multitude of defects with which they 
 are surrounded, can be the work only of him, who having a mind 
 always alive to his art, has extended his views to all ages and to 
 all schools i and has acquired from that comprehensive mass 
 which he has thus gathered to himself, a well-digested and per- 
 fect idea of his art, to which every thing is referred. Like a 
 sovereign judge and arbiter of art, he is possessed of that presiding 
 power which separates and attracts -every excellence from every 
 school ; selects both from what is great, and what is little ; brings 
 home knowledge from the East and from the West; making the 
 universe tributary towards furnishing his mind and enriching his 
 works with originality, and variety of inventions. 
 
 Thus I have ventured to give my opinion of what appears to 
 me the true and only method by which an artist makes himself 
 master of his profession ; which I hold ought to be one continued 
 course of imitation that is not to cease but with his life. 
 
 Those, who either from their own engagements and hurry 
 of business, or from indolence, or from conceit and vanity, have 
 neglected looking out of themselves, as far as my experience and 
 observation reaches, have from that time, not only ceased to advance, 
 and improve in their performances, but have gone backward. They 
 may be compared to men who have lived upon their principal 
 till they are reduced to beggary, and left without resources. 
 
 I can recommend nothing better, therefore, than that you 
 endeavour to infuse into your works what you learn from the 
 
 contemplation 
 
DISCOURSE VI.. 12.1 
 
 contemplation of the works of others. To recommend this has 
 the appearance of needless and superfluous advice; but it has 
 fallen within my own knowledge, that artists, though they were 
 not wanting in a sincere love for their art, though they had great 
 pleasure in seeing good pictures, and were well skilled to distinguish 
 what was excellent or defective in them, yet have gone on in their 
 own manner, without any endeavour to give a little of those beauties, 
 which they admired in others, to their own works. It is difficult 
 to conceive how the present Italian painters, who live in the 
 midst of the treasures of art, should be contented with their 
 own style. They proceed in their common-place inventions, 
 and never think it worth while to visit the works of those great 
 artists with which they are. surrounded. 
 
 I remember, several years ago, to-have conversed at Rome 
 with an artist- of great fame throughout Europe; he was not 
 without a considerable degree of abilities, but those abilities 
 were by no means equal to his own opinion of them. From 
 the reputation he had acquired, he too fondly concluded that 
 lie stood in the same rank, when compared with his predecessors, as 
 he held with regard to his miserable contemporary rivals. In 
 conversation about some particulars of the works of Raffaelle, he 
 seemed to have,, or to affect to have, a very obscure memory of 1 
 them. He told me that he had not set his foot in the Vatican 
 for fifteen years together; that indeed he had been in treaty to 
 copy a capital picture of P.affaelle, but that the business had gone 
 off; however, if the agreement had held, his copy would have 
 greatly exceeded the original. The merit of this artist, however 
 great we may suppose it, I am sure would have been far greater, 
 
 Vol. I. R and. 
 
isi DISCOURSE VI. 
 
 and his presumption would have been far less, if he had visited 
 the Vatican, as in reason he ought to have done, at least once 
 every month of his life. 
 
 I address myself, Gentlemen, to you who have made some 
 progress in the art, and are to be, for the future, under the gui- 
 dance of your own judgment and discretion. I consider you as 
 arrived to that period, when you have a right to think for your- 
 selves, and to presume that every man is fallible ; to study the 
 masters with a suspicion, that great men are not always exempt 
 from great faults; to criticise, compare, and rank their works 
 in your own estimation, as they approach to, or recede from, 
 that standard of perfection which you have formed in your own 
 minds, but which those masters themselves, it must be remem- 
 bered, have taught you to make ; and which you will cease to 
 make with correctness, when you eease to study them. It is 
 their excellencies which have taught you their defects. 
 
 I would wish you to forget where you are, and who it is 
 that speaks to you. I only direct you to higher models and 
 better advisers. We can teach you here but very little; yoa 
 are henceforth to be your own teachers. Do this justice, how- 
 ever, to the English Academy ; to bear in mind, that in this 
 place you contracted no narrow habits, no false ideas, nothing 
 that could lead you to the imitation of any living master, who 
 may be the fashionable darling of the day. As you have not 
 been taught to flatter us, do not learn to flatter yourselves. We 
 have endeavoured to lead you. to the admiration of nothing but 
 
 7 what 
 
DISCOURSE VI. -ti 3 
 
 what is truly admirable. If you choose inferior patterns, or if 
 you make your own former works your patterns for your latter > 
 it is your own fault. 
 
 The purport of this discourse, and, indeed, of most of my 
 other discourses, is, to caution you against that false opinion, 
 but too prevalent among artists, of the imaginary power of 
 native genius, and its sufficiency in great works. This opinion, 
 according to the temper of mind it meets with, almost always 
 produces, either a vain confidence, or a sluggish despait^both 
 equally fatal to all proficiency. 
 
 Study therefore the great works of the great masters, for 
 ever. Study as nearly as you can, in the order, in the manner, 
 and on the principles, on which they studied. Study nature 
 attentively, but always with those masters in your company; 
 consider them as models Which you are to imitate, and at the 
 same time as rivals with whom you are to contend. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER 10, 1776. 
 
D IS COURS E VII 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 IT has been my uniform endeavour, since I first addressed you 
 from this place, to impress you strongly with one ruling idea. 
 I wished you to be persuaded, that success in your art depends 
 almost entirely on your own industry; but the industry which 
 I principally recommended, is not the industry of the hands, but 
 ©f the mind. 
 
 As our art is not a divine gift, so neither is it a mechanical 
 trade. Its foundations are laid in solid science : and practice, 
 though effential to perfection, can never attain that to which it 
 aims, unless it works under the direction of principle. 
 
 Some writers upon art carry this point too far, and suppose 
 that such a body of universal and profound learning is requisite, 
 that the very enumeration of its kinds is enough to frighten a 
 beginner. Vitruvius, after going through the many accomplish- 
 ments of nature, . and the many acquirements of learning, neces- 
 sary to an architect, proceeds with great gravity to assert, that 
 he ought to be well skilled in the civil law; that he may not 
 be cheated in the title of the ground he builds on. But without, 
 such exaggeration, we may go so far as to assert, that a painter 
 stands in need of more knowledge than is to be picked off hiY~ 
 
 pallet, 
 
128 DISCOURSE V1T. 
 
 pallet, or collected by looking on his model, whether it be in 
 life or in picture. He can never be a great artist,, who is grossly 
 illiterate. 
 
 Every man whose business is description, ought to be tolerably 
 conversant with the poets, in some language or other; that he 
 may imbibe a poetical spirit, and enlarge his stock .of ideas. 
 He ought to acquire an habit of comparing and digesting his no- 
 tions. He ought not to be wholly unacquainted with that part 
 of philosophy which gives an insight into human nature, and 
 relates to the manners, characters, passions, and affections. He 
 ought to know something concerning the mind, as well as a great 
 deal concerning the body of man. For this purpose, it is not 
 necessary that he should go into such a compass of reading, as 
 must, by distracting his attention, disqualify him for the practi- 
 cal part of his profession, and make him sink the performer in 
 the critiek. Reading, if it can be made the favourite recreation 
 of his leisure hours, will improve and enlarge his mind, without 
 retarding his actual industry. What such partial and desultory 
 reading cannot afford, may be supplied by the conversation of 
 learned and ingenious men, which is the best of all substitutes 
 for those who have not the means or opportunities of deep study. 
 There are many such men in this age; and they will be pleased 
 with communicating their ideas to artists, when they see them 
 curious and docile, if they are treated with that respect and de- 
 ference which is so justly their due. Into such society, young 
 artists, if they make it the point of their ambition, will by de- 
 grees be admitted. There, without formal teaching, they will- 
 insensibly come to feel and reason like those they live with, and 
 
 find. 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 129 
 
 find a rational and systematick taste imperceptibly formed in their 
 minds, which they will know how to reduce to a standard, by 
 applying general truth to their own purposes, better perhaps 
 than those to whom they owed the original sentiment. 
 
 Of these studies, and this conversation, the desired and legi- 
 timate offspring is a power of distinguishing right from wrong; 
 which power applied to works of art, is denominated Taste. Let 
 me then, without further introduction, enter upon an examination, 
 whether taste be so far beyond our reach, as to be unattainable 
 by care; or be so very vague and capricious, that no care ought 
 to be employed about it. 
 
 It has been the fate of arts to be enveloped in mysterious 
 and incomprehensible language, as if it was thought necessary 
 that even the terms should correspond to the idea entertained of 
 the instability and uncertainty of the rules which they expressed. 
 
 To speak of genius and taste, as in any v/ay connected with rea- 
 son or common sense, would be, in the opinion of some towering 
 talkers, to speak like a man who possessed neither; who had 
 never felt that enthusiasm, or, to use their own inflated language, 
 was never v/armed by that Promethean fire, which animates the 
 canvas and vivifies the marble. 
 
 If, in order to be intelligible, I appear to degrade art by bring- 
 ing her down from her visionary situation in the clouds, it is only 
 to give her a more solid mansion upon the earth. It is necessary 
 that - at some time or other we should see things as they really 
 
 Vol. I. S are, 
 
130 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 are, and not impose on ourselves by that false magnitude with 
 which objects appear when viewed indistinctly as- through a mist. 
 
 We will allow a poet to express his meaning, when his mean- 
 ing is not well known to himself, with a certain deoree of ob- 
 scurity, as it is one source of the sublime. But when, in plain 
 prose, we gravely talk of courting the muse in shady bowers ; 
 waiting the call and inspiration of Genius, finding out where 
 he inhabits, and where he is to be invoked with the greatest suc- 
 cess ; of attending to times and seasons when the imagination shoots 
 with the greatest vigour, whether at the summer solstice or the 
 vernal equinox; sagaciously observing how much the wild freedom 
 and liberty of imagination is cramped by attention to established, 
 rules; and how this same imagination begins to grow dim in ad- 
 vanced age, smothered and deadened by too much judgment; 
 when we talk such language, or entertain such sentiments as 
 these, we generally rest contented with mere words, or at best 
 entertain notions not only groundless, but pernicious. 
 
 If all this means, what it is very possible was originally intended 
 only to be meant, that in order to cultivate an art, a man secludes 
 himself from the commerce of the world, and retires into the 
 country at particular seasons; or that at one time of the year his 
 body is in better health, and consequently his mind fitter for the 
 business of hard thinking than at another time; or that the mind 
 may be fatigued and grow confused by long and unremitted ap- 
 plication; this I can understand. I can likewise believe, that 
 a man eminent when young for possessing poetical imagination, 
 may, from having taken another road, so neglect its cultivation, 
 
 3 M 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 131 
 
 as to shew less of its powers in his latter life. But I am persuaded, 
 that scarce a poet is to be found, from Homer down to Dry den, 
 who preserved a sound mind in a sound body, and continued prac„ 
 tising his profession to the very last, whose latter works are not 
 as replete with the fire of imagination, as those which were pro- 
 duced in his more youthful days. 
 
 To understand literally these metaphors or ideas expressed in 
 poetical language, seems to be equally absurd as to conclude, 
 that because painters sometimes represent poets writing from the 
 dictates of a little winged boy or genius, that this same genius 
 did really inform him in a whisper what he was to write; and 
 that he is himself but a mere machine, unconscious of the ope- 
 rations of his own mind. 
 
 Opinions generally received and floating in the world, whe- 
 ther true or false, we naturally adopt and make our own; they 
 may be considered as a kind of inheritance to which we succeed 
 and are tenants for life, and which we leave to our posterity very 
 nearly in the condition in which we received it ; it not being 
 much in any one man's power either to impair or improve it. The 
 greatest part of these opinions, like current coin in its circulation, 
 we are used to take without weighing or examining; but bv this 
 inevitable inattention many adulterated pieces are received, which, 
 when we seriously estimate our wealth, we must throw away. 
 So the collector of popular opinions, when he embodies his know- 
 ledge, and forms a system, must separate those which are true 
 from those which are only plausible. But it becomes more pe- 
 culiarly a duty to the professors of art not to let any opinions 
 
 S 2 relating 
 
132 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 relating to that art pass unexamined. The caution and circum- 
 spection required in such examination we shall presently have 
 an opportunity of explaining. 
 
 Genius and taste, in their common acceptation, appear to be 
 very nearly related; the difference lies only in this, that genius 
 has superadded to it a habit or power of execution : or we may 
 say, that taste, when this power is added, changes its name, 
 and is called genius. They both, in the popular opinion, pre- 
 tend to an entire exemption from the restraint of rules. It is 
 supposed that their powers are intuitive; that under the name of 
 genius great works are produced, and under the name of taste 
 an exact judgment is given, without our knowing why, and 
 without our being under the least obligation to reason, precept, or 
 experience. 
 
 One can scarce state these opinions without exposing their 
 absurdity ; yet they are constantly in the mouths of men, and 
 particularly of artists. They who have thought seriously on this 
 subject, do not carry the point so far; yet I am persuaded, that 
 even among those few who may be called thinkers, the prevalent 
 opinion allow r s less than it ought to the powers of reason; and 
 considers the principles of taste, which give all their authority 
 to the rules of art, as more fluctuating, and as having less solid 
 foundations, than we shall find, upon examination, they really 
 have. 
 
 The common saying, that tastes are not to be disputed, owes 
 its influence, and its general reception, to the same error which 
 
 leads 
 
discourse vir. i33 
 
 leads us to imagine this faculty of too high an original to sub- 
 mit to the authority of an earthly tribunal. It likewise corre- 
 sponds with the notions of those who consider it as a mere phan- 
 tom of the imagination, so devoid of substance as to elude all 
 criticism. 
 
 We often appear to differ in sentiments from each other, mere- 
 ly from the inaccuracy of terms, as we are not obliged to speak 
 always with critical exactness. Something of this too may arise 
 from want of words in the language in which we speak, to ex- 
 press the more nice discriminations which a deep investigation 
 discovers. A great deal however of this difference vanishes, 
 when each opinion is tolerably explained and understood by con- 
 stancy and precision in the use of terms. 
 
 We apply the term Taste to that act of the mind by which 
 we like or dislike, v/hatever be the subject. Our judgment upon 
 an airy nothing, a fancy which has no foundation, is called by 
 the same name which we give to our determination concerning 
 those truths which refer to the most general and most unaltera- 
 ble principles of human nature; to the works which are only to 
 be produced by the greatest efforts of the human understanding. 
 However inconvenient this may be, we are obliged to take words 
 as we find them j all we can do is to distinguish the things to 
 which they are applied. 
 
 We may let pass those things which are at once subjects of 
 taste and sense, and which having as much certainty as the senses 
 themselves, give no occasion to enquiry or dispute. The natural 
 
 appetite 
 
ij4 DISCOURSE VII: 
 
 appetite or taste of the human mind is for Truth; whether that 
 truth results from the real agreement or equality of original ideas 
 among themselves; from the agreement of the representation 
 of any object with the thing represented; or from the correspon- 
 dence of the several parts of any arrangement with each other. It 
 is the very same taste which relishes a demonstration in geome- 
 try, that is pleased with the resemblance of a picture to an original, 
 and touched with the harmony of musick. 
 
 All these have unalterable and fixed foundations in nature, 
 and are therefore equally investigated by reason, and known by 
 study; some with more, some with less clearness, but all exactly 
 in the same way. A picture that is unlike, is false. Dispropor- 
 tionate ordonnance of parts is not right; because it cannot be true, 
 •until it ceases to be a contradiction to affert, that the parts have no 
 relation to the whole. Colouring is true when it is naturally 
 adapted to the eye, from brightness, from softness, from harmony, 
 from resemblance ; because these agree with their object, nature > 
 and therefore are true ; as true as mathematical demonstration ; 
 but known to be true only to those who study these things. 
 
 But beside real, there is also apparent truth, or opinion, or 
 prejudice. With regard to real truth, when it is known, the 
 taste which conforms to it, is, and must be, uniform. With re- 
 gard to the second sort of truth, which may be called truth upon 
 sufferance, or truth by courtesy, it is not fixed, but variable. 
 However, whilst these opinions and prejudices, on which it is 
 founded, continue, they operate as truth; and the art, whose 
 office it is to please the mind, as well as instruct it, must direct 
 itself according to opinion, or it will not attain its end. 
 
 In 
 
DISCOURSE VII. r 35 
 
 In proportion as these prejudices are known to be generally 
 diffused, or long received, the taste which conforms to them 
 approaches nearer to certainty, and to a sort of resemblance to 
 real science, even where opinions are found to be no better than 
 prejudices. And since they deserve, on account of their duration 
 and extent, to be considered as really true, they become capable 
 of no small degree of stability and determination by their perma- 
 nent and uniform nature. 
 
 As these prejudices become more narrow, more local, more- 
 transitory, this secondary taste becomes more and more fantastical; 
 recedes from real science; is less to be approved by reason, and 
 less followed in practice; though in no case perhaps to be wholly 
 neglected, where it does not stand, as it sometimes does, in direct 
 defiance of themost respectable opinions received amongst mankind. 
 
 Having laid down these positions, I shall proceed with less 
 method, because less will serve, to explain and apply them. 
 
 We will take it for granted, that reason is something invari- 
 able and fixed in the nature of things ; and without endeavouring 
 to go back to an account of first principles, which for ever will 
 elude our search, we will conclude, that whatever goes under 
 the name of taste, which we can fairly bring under the dominion 
 of reason, must be considered as equally exempt from change. 
 If therefore, in the course of this enquiry, we can shew that there 
 are rules for the conduct of the artist which are fixed and invari- 
 able, it follows of course, that the art of the connoisseur, or, 
 in other words,, taste, has likewise invariable principles. 
 
 Of 
 
136 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 Of the judgment which we make on the works of art, and the 
 preference that we give to one class of art over another, if a reason 
 be demanded, the question is perhaps evaded by answering, I judge 
 from my taste; but it does not follow that a better answer can- 
 not be given, though, for common gazers, this may be sufficient. 
 Every man is not obliged to investigate the causes of hi-s approba- 
 tion or dislike. 
 
 The arts would lie open for ever to caprice and casualty, if 
 those who are to judge of their excellencies had no settled prin- 
 ciples by which they are to regulate their decisions, and the merit 
 or defect of performances were to be determined by unguided 
 fancy. And indeed we may venture to assert, that whatever spe- 
 culative knowledge is necessary to the artist, is equally and in- 
 dispensably necessary to the connoisseur. 
 
 The first idea that occurs in the consideration of what is fixed 
 in art, or in taste, is that presiding principle of which I have so 
 frequently spoken in former discourses, — the general idea of nature. 
 The beginning, the middle, and the end of every thing that is 
 valuable in taste, is comprised in the knowledge of what is truly 
 nature ; for whatever notions are not conformable to those of nature, 
 or universal opinion, must be considered as more or less capricious. 
 
 My notion of nature comprehends not only the forms which 
 nature produces, but also the nature and internal fabrick and or- 
 ganization, as I may call it, of the human mind and imagination. 
 The terms beauty, or nature, which are general ideas, are but 
 different modes of expressing the same thing, whether we apply 
 
 these 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 137 
 
 these terms to statues, poetry, or picture. Deformity is not na- 
 ture, but an accidental deviation from her accustomed practice. 
 This general idea therefore ought to be called Nature, and nothing 
 else, correctly speaking, has a right to that name. But we are 
 so far from speaking, in common conversation, with any such 
 accuracy, that, on the contrary, when we criticise Rembrandt 
 and other Dutch painters, who introduced into their historical 
 pictures exact representations of individual objects with all their 
 imperfections, we say, — though it is not in a good taste, yet it is 
 nature. 
 
 This misapplication of terms must be very often perplexing 
 to the young student. Is not art, he may say, an imitation of 
 nature ? Must he not therefore who imitates her with the greatest 
 fidelity, be the best artist ? By this mode of reasoning Rembrandt 
 has a higher place than Raffaelle. But a very little reflection 
 will serve to shew us that these particularities cannot be nature : 
 for how can that be the nature of man, in which no two indivi- 
 duals are the same ? 
 
 It plainly appears, that as a work is conducted under the in^ 
 fiuence of general ideas, or partial, it is principally to be considered 
 as the effect of a good or a bad taste. 
 
 As beauty therefore does not consist in taking what lies imme- 
 diately before you, so neither, in our pursuit of taste, are thos* 
 opinions which we first received and adopted, the best choice, 
 or the most natural to the mind and imagination. In the infancy 
 of our knowledge we seize with greediness the good that is within 
 
 Vol. I. T our 
 
i3§ DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 our reach; it is by after-consideration, and in consequence of 
 discipline, that we refuse the present for a greater good at a dis- 
 tance. The nobility or elevation of all arts, like the excellency 
 of virtue itself, consists in adopting this enlarged and comprehen- 
 sive idea; and all criticism built upon the more confined view of 
 what is natural, may properly be called shallow criticism, rather 
 than false : its defect is,, that the truth is not sufficiently exten- 
 sive. 
 
 It has sometimes happened, that some of the greatest men 
 in our art have been betrayed into errors by this confined mode 
 of reasoning. Poussin, who, upon the whole, may be produced 
 as an artist strictly attentive to the most enlarged and extensive 
 ideas of nature, from not having settled principles on this pointy 
 has in one instance at least, I think, deserted truth for prejudice. 
 He is said to have vindicated the conduct of Julio Romano for 
 his inattention to the masses of light and shade, or grouping the 
 figures in the battle of Constantine, as if designedly 
 neglected, the better to correspond with the hurry and confusion 
 of a battle. Poussin's own conduct in many of his pictures, makes 
 us more easily give credit to this report. That it was too much 
 his own practice, the sacrifice to Silenus, and the 
 triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne,* may be produced 
 as instances; but this principle is still more apparent, and may 
 be said to be even more ostentatiously displayed in his Perseus 
 and Medusa's head, -f- 
 
 * In the Cabinet of the Earl of Afhburnham. 
 t In the Cabinet of Sir Peter BurreL 
 
 This 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 139 
 
 This is undoubtedly a subject of great bustle and tumult, and 
 that the first effect of the picture may correspond to the subject, 
 «very principle of composition is violated; there is no principal 
 figure, no principal light, no groups ; every thing is dispersed, and 
 in such a state of confusion that the eye finds no repose any where. 
 In consequence of the forbidding appearance, I remember turning 
 from it with disgust, and should not have looked a second time, 
 if I had not been called back to a closer inspection. I then 
 indeed found, what we may expect always to find in the works of 
 Poussin, correct drawing, forcible expression, and just character ; 
 in short all the excellencies which so much distinguish the works 
 of this learned painter. 
 
 This conduct of Poussin I hold to be entirely improper to 
 imitate. A picture should please at first sight, and appear to 
 invite the spectator's attention : if on the contrary the general 
 effect offends the eye, a second view is not always sought, what- 
 ever more substantial and intrinsick merit it may possess. 
 
 Perhaps no apology ought to be received for offences com- 
 mitted against the vehicle (whether it be the organ of seeing, or 
 of hearing,) by which our pleasures are conveyed to the mind. We 
 must take care that the eye be not perplexed and distracted 
 •by a confusion of equal parts, or equal lights, or offended by an 
 unharmonious mixture of colours, as we should guard against 
 offending the ear by unharmonious sounds. We may venture 
 to be more confident of the truth of this observation, since we 
 find that Shakspeare, on a parallel occasion, has made Hamlet 
 recommend to the players a precept of the same kind,— never to 
 
 T 2 offend 
 
Ho DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 offend the ear by harsh sounds : In the very torrent , tempest, and 
 whirlwind of your passion, says he, you must acquire and beget a tem- 
 perance that may give it smoothness. And yet, at the same time, he 
 very justly observes, The end of playing, both at the first, and now, was 
 and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirrour up to nature. No one can deny, 
 that violent passions will naturally emit harsh and disagreeable 
 tones: yet this great poet and critick thought that this imitation of 
 nature would cost too much, if purchased at the expence of disagree- 
 able sensations, or, as he expresses it, of splitting the ear. The poet 
 and actor, as well as the painter of genius who is well acquainted 
 with all the variety and scources of pleasure in the mind and ima- 
 gination, has little regard or attention to common nature, or 
 creeping after common sense. By overleaping those narrow 
 bounds, he more effectually seizes the whole mind, and more 
 powerfully accomplishes his purpose. This success is ignorantly 
 imagined to proceed from inattention to all rules, and a defiance 
 of reason and judgment; whereas it is in truth acting according 
 to the best rules and the justest reason. 
 
 He who thinks nature, in the narrow sense of the word, is 
 alone to be followed, will produce but a scanty entertainment 
 for the imagination : every thing is to be done with which it is 
 natural for the mind to be pleased, whether it proceeds from 
 simplicity or variety, uniformity or irregularity ; whether the 
 scenes are familiar or exorick; rude and wild, or enriched and 
 cultivated; for it is natural for the mind to be pleased with all 
 these in their turn. In short, whatever pleases has in it what is ana- 
 logous to the mind, and is therefore, in the highest and best 
 sense of the word, natural. 
 
 It 
 
DISC O URS E VII, 141 
 
 It is the sense of nature or truth which ought more particu- 
 larly to be cultivated by the professors of art j and it may be ob- 
 served, that many wise and learned men, who have accustomed 
 their minds to admit nothing for truth but what can be proved 
 by mathematical demonstration, have seldom any relish for those 
 arts which address themselves to the fancy, the rectitude and 
 truth of which is known by another kind of proof : and we may 
 add, that the acquisition of this knowledge requires as much 
 circumspection and sagacity, as is necessary to attain those truths 
 which are more capable of demonstration. Reason must ulti- 
 mately determine our choice on every occasion ; but this reason 
 may still be exerted ineffectually by applying to taste principles 
 which, though right as far as they go, yet do not reach the object. 
 No man, for instance, can deny, that it seems at first view very 
 reasonable, that a statue which is to carry down to posterity the 
 resemblance of an individual, should be dressed in the fashion 
 of the times, in the dress which he himself wore: this would 
 certainly be true, if the dress were part of the man 3 but after 
 a time, the dress is only an amusement for an antiquarian; and 
 if it obstructs the general design of the piece, it is to be disregarded 
 by the artist. Common sense must here give way to a higher 
 sense. In the naked form, and in the disposition of the drapery, 
 the difference between one artist and another is principally seen. 
 But if he is compelled to exhibit the modern dress, the naked 
 form is entirely hid, and the drapery is already disposed by the 
 skill of the tailor. Were a Phidias to obey such absurd com- 
 mands, he would please no more than an ordinary sculptor; 
 since, in the inferior parts of every art, the learned and the ig- 
 norant are nearly upon a level. 
 
 These 
 
142 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 These were probably among the reasons that induced the 
 sculptor of that wonderful figure of Laocoon to exhibit him naked, 
 notwithstanding he was surprised in the act of sacrificing to Apollo, 
 and consequently ought to have been shewn in his sacerdotal 
 habits, if those greater reasons had not preponderated. Art is 
 not yet in so high estimation with us, as to obtain so great a 
 sacrifice as the antients made, especially the Grecians ; who suf- 
 fered themselves to be represented naked, whether they were 
 generals, lawgivers, or kings. 
 
 Under this head of balancing and choosing the greater Teason, 
 or of two evils taking the least, we may consider the conduct of 
 Rubens in the Luxembourg gallery, where he has mixed allegorical 
 figures with representations of real personages, which must be ac- 
 knowledged to be a fault; yet, if the Artist considered himself as 
 engaged to furnish this gallery with a rich, various, and splendid 
 ornament, this could not be done, at least in an equal degree, 
 without peopling the air and water with these allegorical figures: 
 he therefore accomplished all that he purposed. In this case all 
 lesser considerations, which tend to obstruct the great end of the 
 work, must yield and give way. 
 
 The variety which portraits and modern dresses, mixed with 
 allegorical figures, produce, is not to be slightly given up upon 
 a punctilio of reason, when that reason deprives the art in a man- 
 ner of its very existence. It must always be remembered that 
 the business of a great Painter, is to produce a great picture, he 
 must therefore take especial care not to be cajoled by specious 
 arguments out of his materials. 
 
 What 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 143 
 
 What has been so often said to the disadvantage of allegorical 
 poetry, — that it is tedious, and uninteresting, — cannot with the 
 same propriety be applied to painting, where the interest is of. 
 a different kind. If allegorical painting produces a greater 
 variety of ideal beauty, a richer, a more various and delightful 
 composition, and gives to the artist a greater opportunity of 
 exhibiting his skill, all the interest he wishes for is accomplished : 
 such a picture not only attracts., but fixes the attention. 
 
 If it be objected that Rubens judged ill at first in thinking it 
 necessary to make his work so very ornamental, this puts the 
 question upon new ground.. It was his peculiar style; he could 
 paint in no other; and he was selected for that work, probably, 
 because it was his style. Nobody will dispute but some of the 
 best of the Roman or Bolognian schools would have produced 
 a more learned and more noble work. 
 
 This leads us to another important province of taste, that of 
 weighing the value of the different classes of the art, and of 
 estimating them accordingly. 
 
 All arts have means within them of applying themselves with 
 success both to the intellectual and sensitive part of our natures. 
 It cannot be disputed, supposing both these means put in practice 
 with equal abilities, to which we ought to give the preference; 
 to him v/ho represents the heroick arts and more dignified pas- 
 sions of man, or to him who, by the help of meretricious orna- 
 ments, however elegant and graceful, captivates the sensuality., 
 as it may be called, of our taste. Thus the Roman and Bolognian 
 2 schools 
 
j. 4 4 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 are reasonably preferred to the Venetian, Flemish, or D uteri 
 schools, as they address themselves to our best and noblest fa- 
 culties. 
 
 Well-turned periods in -eloquence, or harmony of numbers 
 in poetry, which are in those arts what colouring is in painting, 
 however highly we may esteem them, can never be considered 
 as of equal importance with the art of unfolding truths that are 
 useful to mankind, and which make us better or wiser. Nor 
 can those works which remind us of the poverty and meanness 
 of our nature, be considered as of equal rank with what excites 
 ideas of grandeur, or raises and dignifies humanity; or, in the 
 words of a late poet, which makes the beholder iearn to venerate 
 himself as man* . 
 
 It is reason and good sense therefore which ranks and esti- 
 mates every art, and every part of that art, according to its im- 
 portance, from the painter of animated, down to inanimated 
 Stature. We will not allow a man, who shall prefer the inferior 
 style, to say it is his taste; taste here has nothing, or at least 
 ought to have nothing to do with the question. He wants not 
 taste, but sense, and soundness of judgment. 
 
 Indeed perfection in an inferior style maybe reasonably pre- 
 ferred to mediocrity in the highest walks of art. A landskip of 
 Claude Lorrain may be preferred to a history by Luca Giordano; 
 but hence appears the necessity of the connoisseur's knowing in 
 
 * Dr. Goldfmith. 
 
 what 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 14 
 
 what consists the excellency of each class, in order to judge 
 how near it approaches to perfection. 
 
 Even in works of the same kind, as in history-painting, which 
 is composed of various parts, excellence of an inferior species, 
 carried to a very high degree, will make a work very valuable, 
 and in some measure compensate for the absence of the higher 
 kinds of merit. It is the duty of the connoisseur to know and 
 esteem, as much as it may deserve, every part of painting: he 
 will not then think even Bassano unworthy of his notice ; who, 
 though totally devoid of expression, sense, grace, or elegance, 
 may be esteemed on account of his admirable taste of colours, 
 which, in his best works, are little inferior to those of Titian. 
 
 Since I have mentioned Bassano, we must do him likewise 
 the justice to acknowledge, that though he did not aspire to the 
 dignity of expressing the characters and passions of men, yet, 
 with respect to facility and truth in his manner of touch in 
 animals of all kinds, and giving them what painters call theii 
 char after, few have ever excelled him. 
 
 To Bassano we may add Paul Veronese and Tiutoret, for 
 their entire inattention to what is justly thought the most essen- 
 tial part of our art, the expression of the passions. Notwith- 
 standing these glaring deficiencies, we justly esteem their works ; 
 but it must be remembered, that they do not please from those 
 defects, but from their great excellencies of another kind, and 
 in spite of such transgressions. These excellencies too, as far 
 
 Vol. I. U as 
 
146 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 they go, are founded in the truth of general nature : they tell 
 the truth, though not the whole truth. 
 
 By these considerations, which can never be too frequently 
 impressed, may be obviated two errors which I observed to have 
 been, formerly at least, the most prevalent, and to be most in- 
 jurious to artists ; that of thinking taste and genius to have nothing 
 to do with reason, and that of taking particular living objects 
 for nature. / 
 
 I shall now say something on that part of taste, which, as 
 I have hinted to you before, does not belong so much to the ex- 
 ternal form of things, but is addressed to the mind, and depends 
 on its original frame, or, to use the expression, the organization 
 of the soul; I mean the imagination and the passions. The prin- - 
 ciples of these are as invariable as the former, and are to be known 
 and reasoned upon in the same manner, by an appeal to common 
 sense deciding upon the common feelings of mankind. This 
 sense, and these feelings, appear to me of equal authority , and 
 equally conclusive. Now this appeal implies a general uni- 
 formity and agreement in the minds of men. It would be else 
 an idle and vain endeavour to establish rules of art ; it would be 
 pursuing a phantom to attempt to move affections with which 
 we were entirely unacquainted. We have no reason to suspect 
 there is a greater difference between our minds than between our 
 forms ; of which, though there are no two alike, yet there is a 
 general similitude that goes through the whole race of mankind; 
 and those who have cultivated their taste can distinguish what 
 is beautiful or deformed, or, in other words, what agrees with or 
 
 deviates 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 147 
 
 deviates from the general idea of nature, in one case, as well 
 as in the other. 
 
 The internal fabrick of our minds, as well as the external form 
 of our bodies, being nearly uniform ; it seems then to follow 
 of course, that as the imagination is incapable of producing 
 any thing originally of itself, and can only vary and combine 
 those ideas with which it is furnished by means of the senses, 
 there will be neceffarily an agreement in the imaginations as in the 
 senses of men. There being this agreement, it follows, that in 
 all cases, in our lightest amusements, as well as in our most 
 serious actions and engagements of life, we must regulate our 
 affections of every kind by that of others. The well-disciplined 
 mind acknowledges this authority, and submits its own opinion 
 to the publick voice. It is from knowing what are the general 
 feelings and passions of mankind, that we acquire a true idea of 
 what imagination is; though it appears as if we had nothing to 
 do but to consult our own particular sensations, and these were 
 sufficient to ensure us from all error and mistake. 
 
 A knowledge of the disposition and character of the human 
 mind can be acquired only by experience: a great deal will be 
 learned, I admit, by a habit of examining what passes in our 
 bosoms, what are our own motives of action, and of what kind 
 of sentiments we are conscious on any occasion. We may suppose 
 an uniformity, and conclude that the same effect will be produced 
 by the same cause in the minds of others. This examination will 
 contribute to suggest to us matters of enquiry; but we can never 
 be sure that our own sensations are true and right, till they are 
 
 U 2 confirmed 
 
1 48 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 confirmed by more extensive observation. One man opposing 
 another determines nothing; but a general union of minds, like 
 a general combination of the forces of all mankind, makes a 
 strength that is irresistible. In fact, as he who does not know 
 himself does not know others, so it may be said with equal truth, 
 that he who does not know others, knows himself but very 
 imperfectly. 
 
 A man who thinks he is guarding himself against prejudices 
 by resisting the authority of others, leaves open every avenue to 
 singularity, vanity, self-conceit, obstinacy, and many other vices, 
 all tending to warp the judgment, and prevent the natural opera- 
 tion of his faculties. This submission to others is a deference 
 which we owe, and indeed are forced involuntarily to pay. In 
 fact, we never are satisfied with our opinions, whatever we may 
 pretend, till they are ratified and confirmed by the suffrages of 
 the rest of mankind. We dispute and wrangle for ever ; we 
 endeavour to get men to come to us* when we do not go to, 
 them. 
 
 He therefore who is acquainted with the works which have 
 pleased different ages and different countries, and has formed his 
 opinion on them, has more materials, and more means of knowing 
 what is analogous to the mind of man, than he who is conver- 
 sant only with the works of his own age or country. What has 
 pleased, and continues to please, is likely to please again : hence 
 are derived the rules of art,, and on this immoveable foundation 
 they must ever stand. 
 
 This 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 145 
 
 This search and study of the history of the mind ought not 
 to be confined to one art only. It is by the analogy that one 
 art bears to another, that many things are ascertained, which 
 either were but faintly seen, or, perhaps, would not have been 
 discovered at all, if the inventor had not received the first hints 
 from the practices of a sister art on a similar occasion*. The 
 frequent allusions which every man who treats of any art is 
 obliged to make to others in order to illustrate and confirm his 
 principles, sufficiently shew their near connection and inseparable 
 relation. 
 
 All arts having the same general end, which is to please; and 
 addressing themselves to the same faculties through the medium 
 of the senses ; it follows that their rules and principles must have 
 as great affinity as the different materials and the different organs 
 or vehicles by which they pass to the mind, will permit them 
 to retain -f-. 
 
 We may therefore conclude, that the real substance, as it may 
 be called, of what goes under the name of taste, is fixed and 
 established in the nature of things; that there are certain and 
 regular causes by which the imagination and passions of men are 
 affected; and that the knowledge of these causes is acquired by 
 a laborious and diligent investigation of nature, and by the same 
 slow progress as wisdom or knowledge of every kind, however 
 instantaneous its operations may appear when thus acquired. 
 
 * Nulla ars, non alterius artis, aut mater, aut propinqua eft. 
 
 Tertuil. as cited by Junius. 
 + Omnes artes qua: ad humanitatem pertinent, habent quoddam commune vinculum, 
 ct quasi cognatione inter se continentur. Cicero. 
 
 It 
 
150 DISCOURSE VIT. 
 
 It has been often observed, that the good and virtuous man 
 alone can acquire this true or just relish even of works of art. 
 This opinion will not appear entirely without foundation, when 
 we consider that the same habit of mind which is acquired by 
 our search after truth in the more serious duties of life, is only 
 transferred to the pursuit of lighter amusements. The same dis- 
 position, the same desire to find something steady, substantial, 
 and durable, on which the mind can lean as it were, and rest 
 with safety, actuates us in both cases. The subject only is changed. 
 We pursue the same method in our search after the idea of beauty 
 and perfection in each; of virtue, by looking forwards beyond 
 ourselves to society, and to the whole; of arts, by extending 
 our views in the same manner to all ages and all times. 
 
 Every art, like our own, has in its composition fluctuating 
 as well as fixed principles. It is an attentive enquiry into their 
 difference that will enable us to determine how far we are influenced 
 by custom and habit, and what is fixed in the nature of things. 
 
 To distinguish how much has solid foundation, we may have 
 recourse to the same proof by which some hold that wit ought 
 to be tried; whether it preserves itself when translated. That 
 wit is false, which can subsist only in one language ; and that pic- 
 ture which pleases only one age or one nation, owes its reception 
 to some local or accidental association of ideas. 
 
 We may apply this to every custom and habit of life. Thus 
 the general principles of urbanity, politeness, or civility, have 
 been ever the same in all nations; but the mode in which they 
 i are 
 
DISCOURSE VII. I5 i 
 
 are dressed, is continually varying. The general idea of shewing 
 respect is by making yourself less; but the manner, whether by 
 bowing the body, kneeling, prostration, pulling off the upper 
 part of our dress, or taking away the lower *, is a matter of 
 cuftom. 
 
 Thus in regard to ornaments, it would be unjust to conclude 
 that because they were at first arbitrarily contrived, they are there- 
 fore undeserving of our attention; on the contrary, he who neg- 
 lects the cultivation of those ornaments, acts contrary to nature 
 and reason. As life would be imperfect without its highest 
 ornaments, the Arts, so these arts themselves would be imperfect 
 without their ornaments. Though we by no means ought to 
 rank these with positive and substantial beauties, yet it must be 
 allowed that a knowledge of both is essentially requisite towards 
 forming a complete, whole, and perfect taste. It is in reality 
 from the ornaments that arts receive their peculiar character and 
 complexion ; we may add, that in them we find the characteristical 
 mark of a national taste ; as by trhowing up a feather in the air, 
 we know which way the wind blows, better than by a more 
 heavy matter. 
 
 The striking distinction between the works of the Roman, 
 Bolognian, and Venetian schools, consists more in that general 
 effect which is produced by colours, than in the more profound 
 excellencies of the art; at least it is from thence that each is dis- 
 tinguished and known at first sight. Thus it is the ornaments, . 
 
 * Put off thy (hoes from off thy feet ; for the place whereon thou standest is holy 
 ground. Exodus, iii. 5. 
 
 rather 
 
152 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 rather than the proportions of architecture, which at the first 
 glance distinguish the different orders from each other; the Dorick 
 is known by its triglyphs, the lonick by its volutes, and the 
 Corinthian by its acanthus. 
 
 What distinguishes oratory from a cold narration, is a more 
 liberal, though chaste, use of those ornaments which go under 
 the name of figurative and metaphorical expressions ; and poetry 
 distinguishes itself from oratory by words and expressions still 
 more ardent and glowing. What separates and distinguishes 
 poetry, is more particularly the ornament of verse: it is this 
 which gives it its character, and is an essential without which 
 it cannot exist. Custom has appropriated different metre to 
 different kinds of composition, in which the world is not per- 
 fectly agreed. In England the dispute is not yet settled, which 
 is to be preferred, rhyme or blank verse. But however we dis- 
 agree about what these metrical ornaments shall be, that some 
 metre is essentially necessary, is universally acknowledged. 
 
 In poetry or eloquence, to determine how far figurative or 
 metaphorical language may proceed, and when it begins to be 
 affectation or beside the truth, must be determined by taste; 
 though this taste, we must never forget, is regulated and formed 
 by the presiding feelings of mankind, by those works which have 
 approved themselves to all times and all persons. Thus, though 
 eloquence has undoubtedly an essential and intrinsick excellence, 
 and immoveable principles common to all languages, founded in 
 the nature of our passions and affections ; yet it has its ornaments 
 and modes of address, which are merely arbitrary. What is 
 
 approved 
 
DISCOURSE VII. i S3 
 
 approved in the eastern nations as grand and majestick, would be 
 considered by the Greeks and Romans as turgid and inflated; 
 and they, in return, would be thought by the Orientals to express 
 themselves in a cold and insipid manner. 
 
 We may add likewise to the credit of ornaments, that it is by 
 their means that art itself accomplishes its purpose. Fresnoy calls 
 colouring, which is one of the chief ornaments of painting, lena 
 sororisy that which procures lovers and admirers to the more valu- 
 able excellencies of the art. 
 
 It appears to be the same right turn of mind whichrenables 
 a man to acquire the truth, or the just idea of what is right, in the 
 ornaments, as in the more stable principles of art. It has still the 
 same centre of perfection, though it is the centre of a smaller circle. 
 
 To illustrate this by the fashion of dress, in which there is 
 allowed to be a good or bad taste. The component parts of dress 
 are continually changing from great to little, from short to long ; 
 but the general form still remains : it is still the same general 
 dress which is comparatively fixed, though on a very slender foun- 
 dation j but it is on this which fashion must rest. He who 
 invents with the most success, or dresses in the best taste, would 
 probably, from the same sagacity employed to greater purposes, 
 have discovered equal skill, or have formed the same correct taste, 
 in the highest labours of art. 
 
 I have mentioned taste in dress, which is certainly one of 
 the lowest subjects to which this word is applied ; yet, as I have 
 Vol. L X before 
 
154 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 before observed, there is a right even here, however narrow its 
 foundation respecting the fashion of any particular nation. But 
 we have still more slender means of determining, to which of 
 the different customs of different ages or countries we ought to 
 give the preference, since they seem to be all equally removed 
 from nature. If an European, when he has cut off his beard, 
 and put false hair on his head, or bound up his own natural 
 hair in regular hard knots, as unlike nature as he can possibly 
 make it; and after having rendered them immoveable by the help of 
 the fat of hogs, has covered the whole with flour, laid on by a ma- 
 chine with the utmost regularity ; if, when thus attired he issues 
 forth, and meets a Cherokee Indian, who has bestowed as much 
 time at his toilet, and laid on with equal care and attention his 
 yellow and red oker on particular parts of his forehead or cheeks, 
 as he judges most becoming; whoever of these two despises the 
 other for this attention to the fashion of his country, which ever 
 first feels himself provoked to laugh, is the barbarian. 
 
 All these fashions are very innocent ; neither worth disqui- 
 sition, nor any endeavour to alter them j as the change would, 
 in all probability, be equally distant from nature. The only 
 circumstances against which indignation may reasonably be moved, 
 is where the operation is painful or destructive of health, such 
 as some of the practices at Otaheite, and the straight lacing of 
 the English ladies ; of the last of which practices, how destructive 
 it must be to health and long life, the professor of anatomy took 
 an opportunity of proving a few days since in this Academy. 
 
 It 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 155 
 
 It is in dress as in things of greater consequence. Fashions 
 originate from those only who have the high and powerful advan- 
 tages of rank, birth, and fortune. Many of the ornaments of 
 art, those at least for which no reason can be given, are_ trans- 
 mitted to us, are adopted, and acquire their consequence from 
 the company in which we have been used to see them. As Greece 
 and Rome are the fountains from whence have flowed all kinds 
 of excellence, to that veneration which they have a right to claim 
 for the pleasure and knowledge which they have afforded us, we 
 voluntarily add our approbation of every ornament and every 
 custom that belonged to them, even to the fashion of their dress. 
 For it may be observed that, not satisfied with them in their 
 own place, we make no difficulty of dressing statues of modern 
 heroes or senators in the fashion of the Roman armour or peace- 
 ful robe; we go so far as hardly to bear a statue in any other 
 drapery. 
 
 The figures of the great men of those nations have comedown 
 to us in sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent 
 specimens of ancient art. We have so far associated personal 
 dignity to the persons thus represented, and the truth of art to 
 their manner of representation, that it is not in our power any 
 longer to separate them. This is not so in painting; because 
 having no excellent ancient portraits, that connexion was never 
 formed. Indeed we could no more venture to paint a general 
 officer in a Roman military habit, than we could make a statue 
 in the present uniform. But since we have no ancient portraits, 
 — to shew how ready we are to adopt those kind of prejudices, 
 we make the best authority among the moderns serve the same 
 
 X 2 purpose. 
 
j 5 6 D I S C'O URSE VII. 
 
 purpose. The great variety of excellent portraits with which 
 Vandyck has enriched this nation, we are not content to admire 
 for their real excellence, but extend our approbation even to the 
 dress which happened to be the fashion of that age. We all very 
 well remember how common it was a few years ago for portraits 
 to be drawn in this fantastick dress ; and this custom is not yet 
 entirely laid aside. By this means it must be acknowledged very 
 ordinary pi£tures acquired something of the air and effect of the 
 works of Vandyck, and appeared therefore at first sight to be bet- 
 ter pictures than they really were; they appeared so, however, 
 to those only who had the means of making this association ; 
 and when made, it was irresistible. But this association is nature, 
 and refers to that secondary truth that comes from conformity 
 to general prejudice and opinion; it is therefore not merely fan- 
 tastical. Besides the prejudice which we have in favour of ancient 
 dresses, there may be likewise other reasons for the effect which 
 they produce; among which we may justly rank the sim- 
 plicity of them, consisting of little more than one single piece 
 of drapery, without those whimsical capricious forms by which 
 all other dresses are embarrassed. 
 
 Thus, though it is from the prejudice we have in favour of 
 the ancients, who have taught us architecture, that we have 
 adopted likewise their ornaments ; and though we are satisfied 
 that neither nature nor reason are the foundation of those beauties 
 which we imagine we see in that art, yet if any one, persuaded 
 of this truth, should therefore invent new orders of equal beauty, 
 which we will suppose to be possible, they would not please; 
 nor ought he to complain, since the old has that great advantage 
 
 of 
 
DISCOURSE VJI. 157 
 
 of having custom and prejudice on its side. In this case we leave 
 what has every prejudice in its favour, to take that which will 
 have no advantage over what we have left, but novelty; which 
 soon destroys itself, and at any rate is but a week antagonist 
 against custom. 
 
 Ancient ornaments, having the right of possession, ought 
 not to be removed, unlefs to make room for that which not only 
 has higher pretensions, but such pretensions as will balance the 
 evil and confusion which innovation always brings with it. 
 
 To this we may add, that even the durability of the materials 
 will often contribute to give a superiority to one object over another. 
 Ornaments in buildings, with which taste is principally concerned, 
 are composed of materials which last longer than those of which 
 dress is composed; the former therefore make higher pretensions 
 to our favour and prejudice. 
 
 Some attention is surely due to what we can no more get rid 
 of than we can go out of ourselves. We are creatures of pre- 
 judice; we neither can nor ought to eradicate it; we must only 
 regulate it by reason ; which kind of regulation is indeed little 
 more than obliging the lesser, the local and temporary prejudices, 
 to give way to those which are more durable and lasting. 
 
 He therefore who in his practice of portrait-painting wishes 
 to dignify his subject, which we will suppose to be a lady, will 
 not paint her in the modern dress, the familiarity of which alone- 
 is sufficient to destroy all dignity. He takes care that his work 
 
 shall 
 
158 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 shall correspond to those ideas and that imagination which he 
 knows will regulate the judgment of others j and therefore dresses 
 his figure something with the general air of the antique for the 
 sake of dignity, and preserves something of the modern for the 
 sake of likeness. By this conduct his works correspond with 
 those prejudices which we have in favour of what we continually 
 see; and the relish of the antique simplicity corresponds with 
 what we may call the more learned and scientifick prejudice. 
 
 There was a statue made not long since of Voltaire, which 
 the sculptor, not having that respect for the prejudices of man- 
 kind which he ought to have had, made entirely naked, and 
 as meagre and emaciated as the original is said to be. The con* 
 seauence was what might have been expected: it remained in the 
 sculptor's shop, though it was intended as a publick ornament 
 and a publick honour to Voltaire, for it was procured at the 
 expence of his contemporary wits and admirers. 
 
 Whoever would reform a nation, supposing a bad taste 
 to prevail in it, will not accomplish his purpose by going directly 
 against the stream of their prejudices. Men's minds must be pre- 
 pared to receive what is new to them. Reformation is a work of 
 time. A national taste, however wrong it may be, cannot be 
 totally changed at once ; we must yield a little to the preposses- 
 sion which has taken hold on the mind, and we may then bring 
 people to adopt what would offend them, if endeavoured to be 
 introduced by violence. When Battista Franco was employed, 
 in conjunction with Titian, Paul Veronese and Tintoret, to 
 adorn the library of St. Mark, his work, Vasari says, gave less 
 
 satisfaction 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 159 
 
 satisfaction than any of the others : the dry manner of the Roman 
 school was very ill calculated to please eyes that had been accus- 
 tomed to the luxuriancy, splendour, and richness of Venetian 
 colouring. Had the Romans been the judges of this work, pro- 
 bably the determination would have been just contrary; for in 
 the more noble parts of the art, Battista Franco was perhaps not 
 inferior to any of his rivals. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 It has been the main scope and principal end of this 
 discourse to demonstrate the reality of a standard in taste, as well 
 as in corporeal beauty ; that a false or depraved taste is a thing 
 as well known, as easily discovered, as any thing that is deformed, 
 mis-shapen, or wrong, in our formor outward make; and that 
 this knowledge is derived from the uniformity of sentiments among 
 mankind, from whence proceeds the knowledge of what are the 
 general habits of nature ; the result of which is an idea of perfect 
 beauty. 
 
 If what has been advanced be true, that beside this beauty 
 or truth, which is formed on the uniform, eternal and immuta- 
 ble laws of nature, and which of necessity can be but om; that 
 beside this one immutable verity there are likewise what we have 
 called apparent or secondary truths, proceeding from local and 
 temporary prejudices, fancies, fashions, or accidental connexion 
 of ideas; if it appears that these last have still their foundation, 
 however slender, in the original fabrick of our minds; it follows 
 that all these truths or beauties deserve and require the attention 
 
 3 ofc 
 
160 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 of the artist, in proportion to their stability or duration, or as 
 their influence is more or less extensive. And let me add, that 
 as they ought not to pass their just bounds, so neither do they, 
 in a well-regulated taste, at all prevent or weaken the influence 
 of those general principles, which alone can give to art its true 
 and permanent dignity. 
 
 To form this just taste is undoubtedly in your own power, but 
 it is to reason and philosophy that you must have recourse; from 
 them you must borrow the balance by which is to be weighed 
 and estimated the value of every pretension that intrudes itself 
 on your notice. 
 
 The general objection which is made to the introduction of 
 Philosophy into the regions of taste, is, that it checks and re- 
 strains the flights of the imagination, and gives that timidity 
 which an over-carefulness not to err or act contrary to reason is 
 likely to produce. It is not so. Fear is neither reason nor 
 philosophy. The true spirit of philosophy, by giving knowledge, 
 gives a manly confidence, and substitutes rational firmness in 
 the place of vain presumption. A man of real taste is always 
 a man of judgment in other respects; and those inventions which 
 either disdain or shrink from reason, are generally, I fear, more 
 like the dreams of a distempered brain than the exalted enthusiasm 
 of a sound and true genius. In the midst of the highest flights 
 of fancy or imagination, reason ought to preside from first to 
 last, though I admit her more powerful operation is upon re- 
 flection. 
 
 Let 
 
DISCOURSE VII. 161 
 
 Let me add, that some of the greatest names of antiquity, 
 and those who have most distinguished themselves in works of 
 genius and imagination, were equally eminent for their critical 
 skill. Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and Horace; and among the 
 moderns, Boileau, Corneille, Pope, and Dryden, are at least in- 
 stances of genius not being destroyed by attention or subjection 
 to rules and science. I mould hope therefore, that the natural 
 consequence of what has been said, would be, to excite in 
 you a desire of knowing the principles and conduct of the great 
 masters of our art, and respect and veneration for them when-- 
 known* 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 y 
 
 D I SCOUR S-R 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10, 1778. 
 
DISCOURSE VIIT 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 I HAVE recommended, in former discourses,* that Artists 
 should learn their profession by endeavouring to form an idea 
 of perfection from the different excellencies which lie dispersed 
 in the various schools of painting. Some difficulty will still 
 occur, to know what is beauty, and where it may be found: one 
 would wish not to be obliged to take it entirely on the credit 
 of fame; though to this, I acknowledge, the younger Students 
 must unavoidably submit. Any suspicion in them of the chance 
 of their being deceived, will have more tendency to obstruct their 
 advancement, than even an enthusiastick confidence in the per- 
 fection of their models. But to the more advanced in the art, 
 who wish to stand on more stable and firmer ground, and to 
 establish principles on a stronger foundation than authority, how- 
 ever venerable or powerful, it may be safely told, that there is 
 still a higher tribunal, to which those great masters themselves 
 must submit, and to which indeed every excellence in art must 
 be ultimately referred. He who is ambitious to enlarge the 
 boundaries of his art, must extend his views, beyond the precepts 
 which are found in books or may be drawn from the practice 
 of his predecessors, to a knowledge of those precepts in the 
 
 * Discourse II. and VI. 
 
 mind^ 
 
i66 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 mind, those operations'; of intellectual nature, — to which every 
 thing that aspires to please, must be proportioned and accom- 
 modated. 
 
 Poetry having a more extensive power than our art, exerts 
 its influence over almost all the passions ; among those may be 
 reckoned one of our most prevalent dispositions, anxiety for the 
 future. Poetry operates by raising our curiosity, engaging the 
 mind by degrees to take an interest in the event, keeping that 
 event suspended, and surprising at last with an Unexpected ca- 
 tastrophe. 
 
 The Painter's art is more confined, and has nothing that cor- 
 responds with, or perhaps is equivalent to, this power and ad- 
 vantage of leading the mind on, till attention is totally engaged. 
 What is done by Painting, must be done at one blow- curiosity 
 has received at once all the satisfaction it can ever have. There 
 are, however, other intellectual qualities and dispositions which 
 the Painter can satisfy and affect as powerfully as the Poet; among 
 those we may reckon our love of novelty, variety, and contrast; 
 these qualities, on examination, will be found to refer to a certain 
 activity and restlessness, which has a pleasure and delight in 
 being exercised and put in motion : Art therefore only administers 
 to those wants and desires of the mind. 
 
 It requires no long disquisition to shew, that the dispositions 
 which I have stated actually subsist in the human mind. Variety 
 reanimates the attention, which is apt to languish under a 
 continual sameicss. Novelty makes a more forcible impression 
 
 on 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 167 
 
 on the mind, than can be made by the representation of what we 
 have often seen before; and contrasts rouse the power of compari- 
 son by opposition. All this is obvious; but, on the other hand, 
 it must be remembered, that the mind, though an active principle, 
 has likewise a disposition to indolence; and though it loves ex- 
 ercise, loves it only to a certain degree, beyond which it is very 
 unwilling to be led, or driven; the pursuit therefore of novelty 
 and variety may be carried to excess. When variety entirely 
 destroys the pleasure proceeding from uniformity and repetition, 
 and when novelty counteracts and shuts out the pleasure arising 
 from old habits and customs, they oppose too much the indo- 
 lence of our disposition : the mind therefore can bear with plea- 
 sure but a small portion of novelty at a time. The main part 
 of the work must be in the mode to which we have been used. 
 An affection to old habits and customs I take to be the predo- 
 minant disposition of the mind, and novelty comes as an excep- 
 tion : where all is novelty, the attention, the exercise of the mind 
 is too violent. Contrast, in the same manner, when it exceeds 
 certain limits, is as disagreeable as a violent and perpetual oppo- 
 sition ; it gives to the senses, in their progress, a more sudden 
 change than they can bear with pleasure. 
 
 It is then apparent, that those qualities, however they con- 
 tribute to the perfection of Art, when kept within certain bounds, 
 if they are carried to excess, become defects, and require cor- 
 rection : a work consequently will not proceed better and better 
 as it is more varied ; variety can never be the ground-work and 
 principle of the performance, it must be only employed to re- 
 create and relieve. 
 
 To 
 
168 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 To apply these general observations which belong equally to 
 all arts, to ours in particular. In a composition, when the ob- 
 jects are scattered and divided into many equal parts, the eye is 
 perplexed and fatigued, from not knowing where to rest, where 
 to find the principal action, or which is the principal figure; for 
 where all are making equal pretensions to notice, all are in equal 
 danger of neglect. 
 
 The expression which is used very often on these occasions 
 is, the piece wants repose; a word which perfectly expresses a 
 relief of the mind from that state of hurry and anxiety which it 
 Suffers, when looking at a work of this character. 
 
 On the other hand, absolute unity, that is, a large work, con- 
 sisting of one group or mass of light only, would be as defective 
 as an heroick poem without episode, or any collateral incidents 
 to recreate the mind with that variety which it always requires. 
 
 An instance occurs to me of two painters, (Rembrandt and 
 Poussin,) of characters totally opposite to each other in every re- 
 spect, but in nothing more than in their mode of composition^ 
 and management of light and shadow. Rembrandt's manner is 
 absolute unity; he often has but one group, and exhibits little 
 more than one spot of light in the midst of a large quantity of 
 shadow; if he has a second mass, that second bears no propor- 
 tion to the principal. Poussin, on the contrary, has scarce any 
 principal mass of light at all, and his figures are often too much 
 dispersed, without sufficient attention to place them in groups. 
 
 7 Tks 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 169 
 
 The conduct of these two painters is entirely the reverse of 
 what might be expected from their general style and character; 
 the works of Poussin being as much distinguished for simplicity, 
 as those of Rembrandt for combination. Even this conduct of 
 Poussin might proceed from too great an affection to simplicity 
 of another kind; too great a desire to avoid that ostentation of art, 
 with regard to light and shadow, on which Rembrandt so much 
 wished to draw the attention: however, each of them ran into 
 contrary extremes, and it is difficult to determine which is the 
 most reprehensible, both being equally distant from the demands 
 of nature, and the purposes of art. 
 
 The same just moderation must be observed in regard to orna- 
 ments ; nothing will contribute more to destroy repose than pro- 
 fusion, of whatever kind, whether it consists in the multiplicity 
 of objects, or the variety and brightness of colours. On the 
 other hand, a work without ornament, instead of simplicity, to 
 which it makes pretensions, has rather the appearance of poverty. 
 The degree to which ornaments are admissible, must be regulated 
 by the professed style of the work ; but we may be sure of this 
 truth, — that the most ornamental style requires repose to set off 
 even its ornaments to advantage. I cannot avoid mentioning 
 here an instance of repose in that faithful and accurate painter 
 of nature, Shakspeare; the short dialogue between Duncan and 
 Banquo, whilst they are approaching the gates of Macbeth's 
 castle. Their conversation very naturally turns upon the beauty 
 of its situation, and the pleasantness, of the air; and Banquo ob- 
 serving the martlets' nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks, 
 that where those birds most breed and haunt, the air is delicate. 
 
 Vol, I, Z The 
 
ijo DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 The subject of this quiet and easy conversation gives that repose 
 so necessary to the mind, after the tumultuous bustle of the pre- 
 ceding scenes, and perfectly contrasts the scene of horrour that 
 immediately succeeds. It seems as if Shakspeare asked himself, 
 What is a Prince likely to say to his attendants on such an oc- 
 casion ? The modern writers seem, on the contrary, to be always 
 searching for new thoughts, such as never could occur to men in 
 the situation represented. This is also frequently the practice of 
 Homer, who, from the midst of battles and horrours, relieves 
 and refreshes the mind of the reader, by introducing some quiet 
 rural image, or picture of familiar domestick life. The writers 
 of every age and country, where taste has begun to decline, paint 
 and adorn every object they touch ; are always on the stretch ; 
 never deviate Or sink a moment from the pompous and the bril- 
 liant. Lucan, Statius, and Claudian, (as a learned critick ha's 
 observed,) are examples of this bad taste and want of judgment ; 
 they never soften their tones, or condescend to be natural : all is 
 exaggeration and perpetual splendour, without affording repose 
 Of any kind. 
 
 As we are speaking of excesses, it will not be remote from our 
 purpose to say a few words upon simplicity; which, in one of 
 the senses in which it is used, is considered as the general corrector 
 of excess. We shall at present forbear to consider it as implying 
 that exact conduct which proceeds from an intimate knowledge of 
 simple unadulterated nature, as it is then only another word for 
 perfection, which neither stops short of, nor oversteps, reality 
 and truth. 
 
 In 
 
DISCOURSE VIH. 171 
 
 In our enquiry after simplicity, as in many other enquiries of 
 this nature, we can best explain what is right, by shewing 
 what is wrong; and, indeed, in this case it seems to be ab- 
 solutely necessary : simplicity, being only a negative virtue, 
 cannot be described or defined. We must therefore explain 
 its nature, and shew the advantage and beauty which is derived 
 from it, by shewing the deformity which proceeds from its 
 neglect. 
 
 Though instances of this neglect might be expected to be 
 found in practice, we should not expect to find in the works of 
 criticks, precepts that bid defiance to simplicity and every thing 
 that relates to it. Du Piles recommends to us portrait-painters, 
 to add Grace and Dignity to the characters of those, whose pic- 
 tures we draw : so far he is undoubtedly right ; but, unluckily, 
 he descends to particulars, and gives his own idea of Grace and 
 Dignity. If, says he, you draw persons of high charaBer and dig- 
 nity, they ought to be drawn in such an attitude, that the Portrait 
 must seem to speak to us of themselves, and, as it were, to say to 
 us, * stop, take notice of me, I am that invincible King, surrounded 
 by Majesty:' ' / am that valiant commander, who struck t err our 
 every where:' ' I am that great minister who knew all the springs 
 of politicks:' * I am that magistrate of consummate wisdom and 
 probity." He goes on in this manner, with all the characters 
 he can think on. We may contrast the tumour of this presump- 
 tuous loftiness with the natural unaffected air of the portraits of 
 Titian, where dignity seeming to be natural and inherent, draws 
 spontaneous reverence, and instead of being thus vainly assumed, 
 has the appearance of an unalienable adjunct; whereas such 
 
 Z 2 pompous 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 pompous and laboured insolence of grandeur is so far from creating 
 respect, that it betrays vulgarity and meanness, and new-acquired 
 consequence. 
 
 The painters, many of them at least, have not been backward 
 in adopting the notions contained in these precepts. The por- 
 traits of Rigaud are perfect examples of an implicit observance 
 of these rules of Du Piles ; so that though he was a painter of 
 great merit in many respects, yet, that merit is entirely over- 
 powered by a total absence of simplicity in every sense* 
 
 Not to multiply instances, which might be produced for this 
 purpose, from the works of History-painters, I shall mention only 
 one, — a picture which I. have seen, of the Supreme Being, 
 by Coypell. 
 
 This subject the Roman Catholick painters have taken the 
 liberty to represent, however indecent the attempt, and however 
 obvious the impossibility of any approach to an adequate repre- 
 sentation: but here the air and character, which the Painter 
 has given, and he has doubtless given the highest he could con- 
 ceive, are so degraded by an attempt at such dignity as Du Piles 
 has recommended, that we are enraged at the folly and presump- 
 tion of the artist, and consider it as little less than profanation.. 
 
 As we have passed to a neighbouring nation for instances of 
 want of this quality, we must acknowledge, at the same time, that 
 they have produced great examples of simplicity in Poussin and 
 Le Sueur. But as we are speaking of the most refined and subtle 
 
 notion 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 173 
 
 notion of perfection, may we not enquire, whether a curious eye can- 
 not discern some faults, even in those great men ? I can fancy, that 
 even Poussin, by abhorring that affectation and that want of sim- 
 plicity, which he observed in his countrymen, has, in certain parti- 
 culars, fallen into the contrary extreme, so far as to approach to 
 
 a kind of affectation, to what, in writing, would be called 
 
 pedantry. 
 
 When Simplicity, instead of being a corrector, seems to sef up 
 for herself ; that is, when an artist seems to value himself solely 
 upon this quality ; such an ostentatious display of simplicity 
 becomes then as disagreeable and nauseous as any other kind of 
 affectation. He is, however, in this case, likely enough to sit 
 down contented with his own work % for though he finds the 
 world look at it with indifference or dislike, as being destitute of 
 every quality that can recreate or give pleasure to the mind, yet 
 he consoles himself, that it has simplicity, a beauty of too pure 
 and chaste a nature to be relished by vulgar minds. 
 
 It- is in art as in morals: no character would inspire us with 
 an enthusiastick admiration of his virtue, if that virtue consisted 
 only in an absence of vice ; something more is required ; a man 
 must do more than merely his duty, to be a hero. 
 
 "Those works oi the ancients, which are in the highest. esteem, 
 have something beside mere simplicity to recommend them. 
 The Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, the Gladiator, have a ceiv 
 tain Composition of Action, have contrasts sufficient to give grace 
 and energy in a high degree j but it must be confessed of the 
 
 many 
 
174 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 many thousand antique statues which we have, that their general 
 characteristick is bordering at least on inanimate insipidity. 
 
 Simplicity, when so very inartificial as to seem to evade the 
 difficulties of art, is a very suspicious virtue* 
 
 I do not, however, wish to degrade simplicity from the high 
 estimation in which it has been ever justly held. It is our bar- 
 rier against that great enemy to truth and nature, Affectation, 
 which is ever clinging to the pencil, and ready to drop in and 
 poison every thing it touches. 
 
 Our love and affection to simplicity proceeds in a great mea- 
 sure from our aversion to every kind of affectation. There is 
 likewise another reason why so much stress is laid upon this vir- 
 tue ; the propensity which artists have to fall into the contrary 
 extreme : we therefore set a guard on that side which is most assail- 
 able. When a young artist is first told that his composition and 
 his attitudes must be contrasted, that he must turn the head con- 
 trary to the position of the body, in order to produce grace and 
 animation ; that his outline must be undulating, and swelling, 
 to give grandeur j and that the eye must be gratified with a variety 
 
 of colours - y when he is told this, with certain animating words, 
 
 of Spirit, Dignity, Energy, Grace, greatness of Style, and bril- 
 liancy of Tints, he becomes suddenly vain of his newly acquired 
 knowledge, and never thinks he can carry those rules too far. It 
 is then that the aid of simplicity ought to be called in, to correct 
 the exuberance of youthful ardour. 
 
 3 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 175- 
 Th e same may be said in regard to Colouring, which in its 
 pre-eminence is particularly applied to flesh. An artist in his 
 first essay of imitating nature, would make the whole mass of one 
 colour, as the oldest painters did ; till he is taught to observe 
 not only the variety of tints, which are in the object itself, but 
 the differences produced by the gradual decline of light to sha- 
 dow : he then immediately puts his instruction in practice, and 
 introduces a variety of distinct colours. He must then be again 
 corrected, and told, that though there is this variety, yet the effect 
 of the whole upon the eye must have the union and simplicity 
 »f the colouring of nature* 
 
 And here we may observe, that the progress of an individual 
 Student bears a great resemblance to the progress and advancement 
 of the Art itself. Want of simplicity would probably be not one 
 of the defects of an artist who had studied nature only, as it was 
 not of the old masters, who lived in the time preceding the great 
 Art of Painting ; on the contrary, their works are too simple and 
 too inartificial. 
 
 The Art in its infancy, like the first work of a Student, was 
 dry, hard, and simple. But this kind of barbarous simplicity, 
 would be better named Penury, as it proceeds from mere want j 
 from want of knowledge, want of resources, want of abilities to 
 be otherwise : their simplicity was the offspring not of choice, but 
 necessity. 
 
 In the second stage they were sensible of this poverty, and 
 those who were the most sensible of the want, were the best 
 
 judges 
 
a/6 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 judges of the measure of the supply. There were painters who 
 emerged from poverty without falling into luxury. Their success 
 induced others, who probably never would of themselves have 
 had strength of mind to discover the original defect, to endeavour 
 at the remedy by an abuse ; and they ran into the contrary ex- 
 treme. But however they may have strayed, we cannot recom- 
 mend to them to return to that simplicity which they have justly 
 quitted ; but to deal out their abundance with a more sparing 
 hand, with that dignity which makes no parade, either of its 
 riches, or of its art. It is not easy to give a rule which may 
 serve to fix this just and correct medium ; because, when we may 
 have fixed, or nearly fixed, the middle point, taken as a general 
 principle, circumstances may oblige us to depart from it, either on 
 the side of Simplicity, or on that of Variety and Decoration, 
 
 I thought it necessary in a former discourse, speaking of the 
 difference of the sublime and ornamental style of painting, — in 
 order to excite your attention to the more manly, noble, and dig- 
 nified manner, to leave perhaps an impression too contemptuous 
 of those ornamental parts of our Art, for which many have 
 valued themselves, and many works are much valued and esteemed. 
 
 I said then, what I thought it was right at that time to say; 
 I supposed the disposition of young men more inclinable to splen- 
 did negligence, than perseverance in laborious application to ac- 
 quire correctness; and therefore did as we do in making what 
 is crooked straight, by bending it the .contrary way, in order that 
 it may remain straight at last. 
 
 For 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 177 
 
 For this purpose then, and to correct excess or neglect of any 
 kind, we may here add, that it is not enough that a work be 
 learned; it must be pleasing: the painter must add grace to 
 strength, if he desires to secure the first impression in his favcfar. 
 Our taste has a kind of sensuality about it, as well as a love of the 
 sublime ; both these qualities of the mind are to have their proper 
 consequence, as far as they do not counteract each other ; for that 
 is the grand error which much care ought to be taken to avoid. 
 
 There are some rules, whose absolute authority, like that of 
 our nurses, continues no longer than while we are in a state of 
 childhood. One of the first rules, for instance, that I believe 
 every master would give to a young pupil, respecting his conduct 
 and management of light and shadow, would be what Lionardo 
 da Vinci has actually given ; that you must oppose a light ground 
 to the shadowed side of your figure, and a dark ground to the 
 light side. If Lionardo had lived to see the superior splendour 
 and effect which has been since produced by the exactly contrary 
 conduct, — by joining light to light, and shadow to shadow, — 
 though without doubt he would have admired it, yet, as it ought 
 not, so probably it would not be the first rule with which he would 
 have begun his instructions. 
 
 Again; in the artificial management of the figures, it is di- 
 rected that they (hall contrast each other according to the rules 
 generally given ; that if one figure opposes his front to the spec- 
 tator, the next figure is to have his back turned, and that the 
 limbs of each individual figure be contrasted ; that is, if the right 
 leg be put forward, the right arm is to be drawn back. 
 . Vol. I. A a It 
 
\ 
 
 178 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 It is very proper that those rules mould be given in the Acade- 
 my ; it is proper the young students should be informed that some 
 research is to be made, and that they should be habituated to consider 
 every excellence as reduceable to principles. Besides ; it is the 
 natural progress of instruction to teach first what is obvious and 
 perceptible to the senses, and from thence proceed gradually to 
 notions large, liberal, and complete, such as comprise the more 
 refined and higher excellencies in Art. But when students are 
 more advanced, they will find that the greatest beauties of cha- 
 racter and expression are produced without contrast ; nay more, that 
 this contrast would ruin and destroy that natural energy of men 
 engaged in real action, unsolicitous of grace. St Paul preaching 
 at Athens in one of the Cartoons, far from any affected academical 
 contrast of limbs, stands equally on both legs, and both hands are 
 in the same attitude : add contrast, and the whole energy and 
 unaffected grace of the figure is destroyed. Elymas the Sorcerer 
 stretches both hands forward in the same direction, which gives 
 perfectly the expression intended. Indeed you never will find in 
 the works of Raffaelle any of those school-boy affected contrasts. 
 Whatever contrast there is, appears without any seeming agency 
 of art, by the natural chance of things. 
 
 What has been said of the evil of excesses of all kinds, whe- 
 ther of simplicity, variety, or contrast, naturally suggests to the 
 painter the necessity of a general enquiry into the true meaning and 
 cause of rules, and how they operate on those faculties to which 
 they are addressed : by knowing their general purpose and mean- 
 ing, he will often find that he need not confine himself to the lite- 
 ral sense, it will be sufficient if he preserve the spirit, of the law. 
 
 Critical 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 179 
 
 Critical remarks are not always understood without exam- 
 ples : it may not be improper therefore to give instances where 
 the rule itself, though generally received, is false, or where a nar- 
 row conception of it may lead the artist into great errors. 
 
 It is given as a rule by Fresnoy, That the principal figure of a 
 subject must appear in the midst of the picture, under the principal 
 light, to distinguish it from the rest. A painter who should think 
 himself obliged strictly to follow this rule, would encumber 
 himself with needless difficulties ; he would be confined to great 
 uniformity of composition, and be deprived of many beauties 
 which are incompatible with its observance. The meaning of thh 
 
 rule extends, or ought to extend, no further than this j That 
 
 the principal figure should be immediately distinguished at the 
 first glance of the eye ; but there is no necessity that the prin- 
 cipal light should fall on the principal figure, or that the princi- 
 pal figure should be in the middle of the picture. It is sufficient 
 that it be distinguished by its place, or by the attention of other 
 figures pointing it out to the spectator. So far is this rule from 
 being indispensable, that it is very seldom practised, other consi- 
 derations of greater consequence often standing in the way. Ex- 
 amples in opposition to this rule, are found in the Cartoons, in 
 Christ's Charge to Peter, the Preaching of St. Paul, and Ely- 
 mas the Sorcerer, who is undoubtedly the principal object in that 
 picture. In none of those compositions is the principal figure in 
 the midst of the picture. In the very admirable composition of 
 the Tent of Darius, by Le Brun, Alexander is not in the middle 
 yf the picture, nor does the principal light fall on him ; but the 
 attention of all the other figures immediately distinguishes him, 
 
 A a 2 and 
 
iSo DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 and distinguishes him more properly ; the greatest light falls on 
 the daughter of Darius, who is in. the middle of the picture, 
 where it is more necessary the principal light should be placed. 
 
 It is very extraordinary that Felibien, who has given a very 
 minute description of this picture, but indeed such a description 
 as may be rather called panegyrick than criticism, thinking it 
 necessary (according to the precept of Fresnoy) that Alexander 
 should possess the principal light, has accordinglygiven.it to him; 
 he might with equal truth have said that he was placed in the 
 middle of the picture, as he seemed resolved to give this piece 
 every kind of excellence which he conceived to be necessary to per- 
 fection. His generosity is here unluckily misapplied, as it would 
 have destroyed in a great measure the beauty of the composition. 
 
 Another instance occurs to me where equal liberty may be 
 taken in regard to the management of light. Though the general 
 practice is to make a large mass about the middle of the picture 
 surrounded by shadow,, the reverse may be practised y and the spirit 
 of the rule may still be preserved. Examples of this principle 
 reversed may be. found very frequently in the works of the Venetian 
 school. In the great composition of Paul Veronese, the Marriage 
 at Cana, the figures are for the most part in half shadow ; the 
 great light is in the sky j and indeed the general effect of this 
 picture which is so striking, is no more than what we often see in 
 landscapes, in small pictures of fairs and country feasts ; but those 
 principles of light and shadow being transferred to a large scale, 
 to a space containing near a hundred figures as large as life, and 
 conducted to all appearance with as much facility, and with an 
 
 attention. 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 181 
 
 attention as steadily fixed upon the whole together, as if it were a 
 small picture immediately under the eye, the work justly excites our 
 admiration j the difficulty being encreased as the extent is enlarged. 
 
 The various modes of composition are infinite : sometimes it 
 shall consist of one large group in the middle of the picture, 
 and the smaller groups on each side ; or a plain space in the 
 middle, and the groups of figures ranged round this vacuity. 
 
 Whether this principal broad light be in the middle space of 
 ground, as in the School of Athens ; or in the sky, as in the 
 Marriage at Cana, in the Andromeda, and in moet of the pictures 
 of Paul Veronese; or whether the light be on the groups; 
 whatever mode of composition is adopted, every variety and 
 licence is allowable : this only is indisputably necessary, that to 
 prevent the eye from being distracted and confused by a mul- 
 tiplicity of objects of equal magnitude, those objects, whether 
 they consist of lights, shadows, or figures, must be disposed in 
 large masses and groups properly varied and contrasted ; that 
 to a certain quantity of action a proportioned space of plain 
 ground is required ; that light is to be supported by sufficient 
 shadow ; and, we may add, that a certain quantity of cold 
 colours is necessary to give value and lustre to the warm co- 
 lours : what those proportions are cannot be so well learnt by 
 precept as by observation on pictures, and in this knowledge 
 bad pictures will instruct as well as good. Our enquiry why pic- 
 tures have a bad effect, may be as advantageous as the enquiry 
 why they have a good effect ; each will corroborate the principles 
 that are suggested by the other. 
 
 Though. 
 
1Z2 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 Though it is not my business to enter into the detail of our 
 Art, yet I must take this opoortunity of mentioning one of the 
 means of producing that great effect which we observe in the works 
 of the Venetian painters, as I think it is not generally known or 
 observed. It ought, in my opinion^ to be indispensably observed, 
 that the masses of light in a picture be always of a warm mel- 
 low colour, yellow, red, or a yellowish-white ; and that the blue, 
 the grey, or the green colours be kept almost entirely out of these 
 masses, and be used only to support and set off these warm 
 colours ; and for this purpose, a small proportion of cold colours 
 will be sufficient. 
 
 Let this conduct be reversed ; let the light be cold, and the 
 surrounding colours warm, as we often see in the works of the 
 Roman and Florentine painters, and it will be out of the power 
 of art, even in the hands of Rubens or Titian, to make a pic- 
 ture splendid and harmonious. 
 
 Le Brun and Carlo Maratti were two painters of great merit, 
 and particularly what may be called Academical Merit, but 
 were both deficient in this management of Colours j the want 
 of observing this rule is one of the causes of that heaviness 
 of effect which is so observable in their works. The principal 
 light in the Picture of Le Brun, which I just now mentioned, 
 falls on Statira, who is dressed very injudiciously in a pale blue 
 drapery ; it is true, he has heightened this blue with gold, but 
 that is not enough ; the whole picture has a heavy air, and by 
 no means answers the expectation raised by the Print. Poussin 
 often made a spot of blue drapery, when the general hue of the 
 3 picture 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. i8j 
 
 picture was inclinable to brown or yellow ; which shews suffi- 
 ciently, that harmony of colouring was not a part of the art that 
 had much engaged the attention of that great painter. 
 
 The conduct of Titian in the picture of Bacchus and Ariadne, 
 has been much celebrated, and justly, for the harmony of colour- 
 ing. To Ariadne is given (say the criticks) a red scarf, to relieve 
 the figure from the sea which is behind her. It is not for that 
 reason, alone, but for another of much greater consequence ; 
 for the sake of the general harmony and effect of the picture. 
 The figure of Ariadne is separated from the great group, and is 
 dressed in blue, which added to the colour of the sea, makes 
 that quantity of cold colour which Titian thought necessary for 
 the support and brilliancy of the great group ; which group is 
 composed, with very little exception, entirely of mellow colours. 
 But as the picture in this case would be divided into two distinct 
 parts, one half cold, and the other warm, it was necessary 
 to carry some of the mellow colours of the great group into 
 the cold part of the picture, and a part of the cold into the great 
 group ; accordingly Titian gave Ariadne a red scarf, and to one 
 of the Bacchante a little blue drapery. 
 
 The light of the picture, as I observed, ought to be of a 
 warm colour ; for though white may be used for the principal 
 light, as was the practice of many of the Dutch and Flemish 
 painters, yet it is better to suppose that white illumined by the 
 yellow rays of the setting sun, as was the manner of Titian. 
 The superiority of which manner is never more striking, than 
 when in a collection of pictures we chance to see a portrait 
 
 of 
 
i84 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 of Titian's hanging by the side of a Flemish picture, (even 
 though that should be of the hand of Vandyck,) which, however 
 admirable in other respects, becomes cold and grey in the 
 comparison. 
 
 The illuminated parts of objects are in nature of a warmer tint 
 than those that are in the shade : what I have recommended 
 therefore is no more, than that the same conduct be observed in 
 the whole, which is acknowledged to be necessary in every indi- 
 vidual part. It is presenting to the eye the same effect as that 
 which it has been accustomed to feel, which in this case, as in every 
 other, will always produce beauty ; no principle therefore in our 
 art can be more certain, or is derived from a higher source. 
 
 What I just now mentioned of the supposed reason why 
 Ariadne has part of her drapery red, gives me occasion here to 
 observe, that this favourite quality of giving objects relief, and 
 which De Piles and all the Criticks have considered as a requisite 
 of the utmost importance, was not one of those objects which 
 much engaged the attention of Titian : painters of an inferior 
 rank have far exceeded him in producing this effect. This was 
 a great object of attention when art was in its infant state, as it is 
 at present with the vulgar and ignorant, who feel the highest 
 satisfaction in seeing a figure, which, as they say, looks as if they 
 could walk round it. But however low I may rate this pleasure 
 of deception, I should not oppose it, did it not oppose itself to a 
 quality of a much higher kind, by counteracting entirely that 
 fulness of manner which is so difficult to express in words, but 
 which is found in perfection in the best works of Correggio, 
 
 and 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 185 
 
 and we may add, of Rembrandt. This effect is produced by- 
 melting and losing the shadows in a ground still darker than 
 those shadows ; whereas that relief is produced by opposing 
 and separating the ground from the figure either by light, or 
 shadow, or colour. This conduct of in-laying, as it may be 
 called, figures on their ground, in order to produce relief, was 
 the practice of the old Painters, such as Andrea Mantegna, 
 Pietro Perugino, and Albert Durer ; and to these we may add, 
 the first manner of Lionardo da Vinci, Giorgione, and even 
 Correggio ; but these three were among the first who began 
 to correct themselves in this dryness of style, by no longer con- 
 sidering relief as a principal object. As those two qualities, 
 relief, and fulness of effect, can hardly exist together, it is not 
 very difficult to determine to which we ought to give the pre- 
 ference. An Artist is obliged for ever to hold a balance in 
 his hand, by which he must determine the value of different 
 qualities j that, when some fault must be committed, he may 
 choose the least. Those painters who have best understood 
 the art of producing a good effect, have adopted one principle 
 that seems perfectly comformable to reason ; that a part may 
 be sacrificed for the good of the whole. Thus, whether the 
 masses consist of light or shadow, it is necessary that they 
 should be compact and of a pleasing shape ; to this end, some 
 parts may be made darker and some lighter, and reflexions 
 stronger than nature would warrant. Paul Veronese took great 
 liberties of this kind. It is said, that being once asked, why cer- 
 tain figures were painted in shade, as no cause was seen in the 
 picture itself ; he turned off the enquiry by answering, «' una nue- 
 vola che passa," a cloud is passing which has overshadowed ihem. 
 Vol. I. B b Bur. 
 
186 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 But I cannot give a better instance of this practice than a 
 picture which I have of Rubens : it is a representation of a 
 Moon-light. Rubens has not only diffused more light over the 
 picture than is in nature, but has bestowed on it those warm 
 glowing colours by which his works are so much distinguished. 
 It is so unlike what any other painters have given us of Moon- 
 light, that it might be easily mistaken, if he had not likewise 
 
 added stars, for a fainter setting sun. Rubens thought the 
 
 eye ought to be satisfied in this case, above all other consider- 
 ations : he might indeed have made it more natural, but it 
 would have been at the expence of what he thought of much 
 greater consequence, — the harmony proceeding from the contrast 
 and variety of colours. 
 
 This same picture will furnish us with another instance, where 
 we must depart from nature for a greater advantage. The Moon 
 in this picture does not preserve so great a superiority in regard to 
 its lightness over the object which it illumines, as it does in 
 nature ; this is likewise an intended deviation, and for the same 
 reason. If Rubens had preserved the same scale of gradation 
 of light between the Moon and the objects, which is found 
 in nature, the picture must have consisted of one small spot 
 of light only, and at a little distance from the picture nothing 
 but this spot would have been seen. It may be said indeed, that 
 this being the case, it is a subject that ought not to be painted : 
 but then, for the same reason, neither armour, nor any thing 
 shining, ought ever to be painted ; for though pure white is 
 used in order to represent the greatest light of shining objects, 
 it will not in the picture preserve the same superiority over 
 
 flesh, 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. i 87 
 
 flesh, as it has in nature, without keeping that flesh-colour of 
 a very low tint. Rembrandt, who thought it of more con- 
 sequence to paint light, than the objects that are seen by it, 
 has done this in a picture of Achilles which I have. The 
 head is kept down to a very low tint, in order to preserve this 
 due gradation and distinction between the armour and the face ; 
 the consequence of which is, that upon the whole the picture 
 is too black. Surely too much is sacrificed here to this nar- 
 row conception of nature: allowing the contrary conduct a fault, 
 yet it must be acknowledged a less fault than making a picture 
 so dark that it cannot be seen without a peculiar light, and 
 then with difficulty. The merit or demerit of the different 
 conduct of Rubens and Rembrandt in those instances which I 
 have given, is not to be determined by the narrow principles 
 of nature, separated from its effect on the human mind. Reason 
 and common sense tell us, that before, and above all other 
 considerations, it is necessary that the work should be seen, 
 not only without difficulty or inconvenience, but with pleasure 
 and satisfaction ; and every obstacle which stands in the way of 
 this pleasure and convenience must be removed. 
 
 The tendency of this Discourse, with the instances which 
 have been given, is not so much to place the Artist above 
 rules, as to teach him their reason ; to prevent him from en- 
 tertaining a narrow confined conception of Art ; to clear his 
 mind from a perplexed variety of rules and their exceptions, 
 by directing his attention to an intimate acquaintance with 
 the passions and affections of the mind, from which all rules 
 arise, and to which they are all referable. Art effe&s its 
 
 B b 2 purpose 
 
m DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 purpose by their means ; an accurate knowledge therefore of 
 those passions and difpofitions of the mind is necessary to him 
 who desires to affect them upon sure and solid principles. 
 
 A complete essay or enquiry into the connection between 
 the rules of Art, and the eternal and immutable dispositions 
 of our passions, would be indeed going at once to the foundation 
 of criticism;* but I am too well convinced what extensive 
 knowledge, what subtle and penetrating judgment would be 
 required, to engage in such an undertaking : it is enough for 
 me, if, in the language of painters, I have produced a slight 
 sketch of a part of this vast composition, but that sufficiently 
 distinct to shew the usefulness of such a theory, and its prac- 
 ticability. 
 
 Before I conclude, I cannot avoid making one observation 
 on the pictures now before us. I have observed, that every 
 candidate has copied the celebrated invention of Timanthes 
 in hiding the face of Agamemnon in his mantle ; indeed such 
 lavish encomiums have been bestowed on this thought, and 
 that too by men of the highest character in critical know- 
 ledge, Cicero, Quintilian, Valerius Maximus, and Pliny, 
 
 and have been since re-echoed by almost every modern that 
 has written on the Arts, that your adopting it can neither 
 be wondered at nor blamed. It appears now to be so 
 much connected with the subject, that the spectator would 
 perhaps be disappointed in not finding united in the picture what 
 
 * This was inadvertently said. I did not reco!le£t the admirable treatise On 
 we Sublime and Beautiful. 
 
 he 
 
DISCOURSE VIII. 189 
 
 he always united in his mind, and considered as indispensably 
 belonging to the subject. But it may be observed, that those 
 who praise this circumstance were not painters. They use it 
 as an illustration only of their own art; it served their pur- 
 pose, and it was certainly not their business to enter into the 
 objections that lie against it in another Art. I fear we have 
 but very scanty means of exciting those powers over the ima- 
 gination which make so very considerable and refined a part 
 of poetry. It is a doubt with me, whether we should even 
 make the attempt. The chief, if not the only occasion which 
 the painter has for this artifice, is, when the subject is im- 
 proper to be more fully represented, either for the sake of 
 decency, or to avoid what would be disagreeable to be seen ; 
 and this is not to raise or increase the passions, which is the 
 reason that is given for this practice, but on the contrary to 
 diminish their effect. 
 
 It is true, fketches, or such drawings as painters generally 
 make for their works, give this pleasure of imagination to a 
 high degree. From a flight undetermined .drawing, where the 
 ideas of the composition and character are, as I may say, only 
 just touched upon, the imagination supplies more than the 
 painter himself, probably, could produce ; and we accordingly 
 often find that the finished work disappoints the expectation 
 that was raised from the sketch ; and this power of the ima- 
 gination is one of the causes of the great pleasure we have 
 in viewing a collection of drawings by great painters. These 
 general ideas, which are expressed in sketches, correspond very 
 well to the art often used in Poetry. A great part of the 
 3 beauty 
 
190 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 beauty of the celebrated description of Eve in Milton's Paradise 
 Lost, consists in using only general indistinct expressions, every 
 reader making out the detail according to his own particular 
 imagination, — his own idea of beauty, grace, expression, dignity, 
 or loveliness : but a painter, when he represents Eve on a 
 canvas, is obliged to give a determined form, and his own idea 
 of beauty distinctly expressed. 
 
 We cannot on this occasion, nor indeed on any other, re- 
 commend an undeterminate manner, or vague ideas of any kind, 
 in a complete and finished picture. This notion, therefore, 
 of leaving any thing to the imagination, opposes a very fixed 
 and indispensable rule in our art, — that every thing shall be 
 carefully and distinctly expressed, as if the painter knew, with 
 correctness and precision, the exact form and character of 
 whatever is introduced into the picture. This is what with us 
 is called Science, and Learning ; which must not be sacri- 
 ficed and given up for an uncertain and doubtful beauty, which, 
 not naturally belonging to our Art, will probably be sought 
 for without success. 
 
 •Mr. Falconet has observed, in a note on this passage in 
 his translation of Pliny, that the circumstance of covering the 
 face of Agamemnon was probably not in consequence of any 
 fine imagination of the painter ; which he considers as a dis- 
 covery of the criiicks ; but merely copied from the description 
 of the sacrifice, as it is found in Euripides. 
 
 The 
 
» 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII. 191 
 
 The words from which the picture is supposed to be taken, 
 are these : Agamemnon saw Iphigenia advance towards the fatal 
 altar; he groaned, he turned aside his head, he shed tears, and 
 covered his face with his robe. 
 
 Falconet does not at all acquiesce in the praise that is 
 bestowed on Timanthes ; not only because it is not his inven- 
 tion, but because he thinks meanly of this trick of concealing, 
 except in instances of blood, where the objects would be too 
 horrible to be seen ; but, says he, " in an afflicted Father, in 
 a King, in Agamemnon, you, who are a painter, conceal from 
 me the most interesting circumstance, and then put me off 
 with sophistry and a veil. You are (he adds) a feeble Painter, 
 without resources ; you do not know even those of your Art : 
 I care not what veil it is, whether closed hands, arms raised, 
 or any other action that conceals from me the countenance 
 of the Hero. You think of veiling Agamemnon ; you have 
 unveiled your own ignorance. A Painter who represents Aga- 
 memnon veiled, is as ridiculous as a Poet would be, who in 
 a pathetick situation, in order to satisfy my expectations, and 
 rid himself of the business, should say, that the sentiments of 
 his Hero are so far above whatever can be said on the occasion, 
 that he shall say nothing." 
 
 To what Falconet has said, we may add, that supposing 
 this method of leaving the expression of grief to the imagination, 
 to be, as it was thought to be, the invention of the painter, and 
 that it deserves all the praise that has been given it, still it 
 is a trick that will serve but once ; whoever does it a second 
 
 time, 
 
191 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 time, will not only want novelty, but be justly suspe&ed of 
 using artifice to evade difficulties. If difficulties overcome make 
 a great part of the merit of Art, difficulties evaded can deserve but 
 little commendation* 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE IX. 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OF 
 
 HE ROYAL ACADEMY, 
 
 I N 
 
 SOMERSET - PLACE, 
 OCTOBER iC. 1780. 
 
 I. 
 
DISCOURSE IX. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 THE honour which the Arts acquire by being permitted 
 to take possession of this noble habitation, is one of the 
 most considerable of the many instances we have received of his 
 Majesty's protection ; and the strongest proof of his desire 
 to make the Academy respectable. 
 
 Nothing has been left undone that might contribute to 
 excite our pursuit, or to reward our attainments. We have 
 already the happiness of seeing the Arts in a state to which 
 they never before arrived in this nation. This Building, in 
 which we are now assembled, will remain to many future 
 ages an illustrious specimen of the Architect's abilities. It 
 is our duty to endeavour that those who gaze with wonder 
 at the structure, may not be disappointed when they visit 
 the apartments. It will be no small addition to the glory 
 which this nation has already acquired from having given birth 
 to eminent men in every part of science, if it should be enabled 
 to produce, in consequence of this institution, a School of 
 English Artists. The estimation in which we stand in respect 
 to our neighbours, will be in proportion to the degree in 
 
 C c 2 which 
 
196 DISCOURSE IX. 
 
 which we excel or are inferior to them in the acquisition 
 of intellectual excellence, of which Trade and its consequen- 
 tial riches must be acknowledged to give the means ; but a 
 people whose whole attention is absorbed in those means, and 
 who forget the end, can aspire but little above the rank of a 
 barbarous nation. Every establishment that tends to the cul- 
 tivation of the pleasures of the mind, as distinct from those 
 of sense, may be considered as an inferior school of mora- 
 lity, where the mind is polished and prepared for higher 
 attainments. 
 
 Let us for a moment take a short survey of the progress 
 of the mind towards what is, or ought to be, its true object 
 of attention. Man, in his lowest state, has no pleasures but 
 those of sense, and no wants but those of appetite ; afterwards, 
 when society is divided into different ranks, and some are ap- 
 pointed to labour for the support of others, those whom their 
 superiority sets free from labour, begin to look for intellec- 
 tual entertainments. Thus, whilst the shepherds were attending 
 their flocks, their masters made the first astronomical observa- 
 tions ; so musick is said to have had its origin from a man 
 at leisure listening to the strokes of a hammer. 
 
 As the senses, in the lowest state of nature, are necessary 
 to direct us to our support, when that support is once secure 
 there is danger in following them further ; to him who has 
 no rule of action but the gratification of the senses, plenty is al- 
 ways dangerous : it is therefore necessary to the happiness of indi- 
 viduals, and still more necessary to the security of society, that the 
 
 mind 
 
DISCOURSE IX. 197 
 
 mind should be elevated to the idea of general beauty, and 
 the contemplation of general truth; by this pursuit the mind 
 is always carried forward in search of something more excel- 
 lent than it finds, and obtains its proper superiority over the 
 common senses of life, by learning to feel itself capable of 
 higher aims and nobler enjoyments. In this gradual exalta- 
 tion of human nature, every art contributes its contingent 
 towards the general supply of mental pleasure. Whatever ab- 
 stracts the thoughts from sensual gratifications, whatever teaches 
 us to look for happiness within ourselves, must advance in 
 some measure the dignity of our nature. 
 
 Perhaps there is no higher proof of the excellency of 
 man than 'this, — that to a mind properly cultivated what* 
 ever is bounded is little. The mind is continually labour- 
 ing to advance, step by step, through successive gradations 
 of excellence, towards perfection, which is dimly seen, at a 
 great though not hopeless distance, and which we must al- 
 ways follow because we never can attain ; but the pursuit 
 rewards itself: one truth teaches another, and our store is 
 always increasing, though nature can never be exhausted. 
 Our art, like all arts which address the imagination, is ap- 
 plied to somewhat a lower faculty of the mind, which ap- 
 proaches nearer to sensuality ; but through sense and fancy 
 it must make its way to reason ; for such is the progress 
 of thought, that we perceive by sense, we combine by fan- 
 cy, and distinguish by reason : and without carrying our art 
 out of its natural and true character, the more we purify 
 it from every thing that is gross in sense, in that propor- 
 tion 
 
i 9 3 D I S C O U R S E IX. 
 
 tion we advance its use and dignity ; and in proportion as 
 we lower it to mere sensuality, we pervert its nature, and 
 degrade it from the rank of a liberal art; and this is what 
 every artist ought well to remember. Let him remember 
 also, that he deserves just so much encouragement in the state 
 as he makes himself a member of it virtuously useful, and 
 contributes in his sphere to the general purpose and perfection 
 of society. 
 
 The Art which we profess has beauty for its object; 
 this it is our business to discover and to express ; but the 
 beauty of which we are in quest is general and intellectual ; 
 it is an idea that subsists only in the mind ; the sight never 
 beheld it, nor has the hand expressed it : it is an idea re- 
 siding in the breast of the artist, which he is always labour- 
 ing to impart, and which he dies at last without imparting ; 
 but which he is yet so far able to communicate, as to raise 
 the thoughts, and extend the views of the spectator; and 
 which, by a succession of art, may be so far diffused, that 
 its effects may extend themselves imperceptibly into publick 
 benefits, and be among the means of bestowing on whole 
 nations refinement of taste : which, if it does not lead di- 
 rectly to purity of manners, obviates at least their greatest 
 depravation, by disentangling the mind from appetite, and con- 
 ducting the thoughts through successive stages of excellence, 
 till that contemplation of universal rectitude and harmony which 
 began by Taste, may, as it is exalted and refined, conclude 
 in Virtue. 
 
 3 
 
DIS COURSE X. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER n, 1780. 
 
DISCOURSE X. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 I SHALL now, as it has been cuftomary on this day, and on 
 this occasion, communicate to you such observations as have 
 occurred to me on the Theory of Art. 
 
 If these observations have hitherto referred principally to 
 Painting, let it be remembered that this Art is much more ex- 
 tenfive and complicated than Sculpture, and affords therefore a 
 more ample field for criticism ; and as the greater includes the 
 lefs, the leading principles of Sculpture are comprised in those 
 of Painting. 
 
 However, I wifh now to make some remarks with particu- 
 lar relatiQn to Sculpture ; to confider wherein, or in what man- 
 ner, its principles and those of Painting agree or differ; what 
 is within its power of performing, and what it is vain or im- 
 proper to attempt ; that it may be clearly and diflincHy known 
 what ought to be the great purpose of the Sculptor's labours. 
 
 Sculpture is an art of much more fimplicity and uniformity 
 than Painting ; it cannot with propriety, and the befl effedt, be 
 Vol. I. D d applied 
 
202 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 applied to many subjects. The object of its pursuit may be 
 comprised in two words, Form and Character ; and those qua- 
 lities are presented to us but in one manner, or in one style only ;; 
 whereas the powers of Painting, as they are more various and 
 extensive, so they are exhibited in as great a variety of manners. 
 The Roman, Lombard, Florentine, Venetian, and Flemish Schools, 
 all pursue the same end by different means. But Sculpture having 
 but one style, can only to one style of painting have any re- 
 lation ; and to this (which is indeed the highest and most dig- 
 nified that Painting can boast,) it has a relation so close, that 
 it may be said to be almost the same art operating upon dif- 
 ferent materials. The Sculptors of the last age, from not at- 
 tending sufficiently to this discrimination of the different styles 
 of Painting, have been led into many errors. Though they 
 well knew that they were allowed to imitate, or take ideas 
 for the improvement of their own Art from the grand style of 
 Painting, they were not aware that it was not permitted to 
 borrow in the same manner from the ornamental. When they 
 endeavour to copy the picturesque effects, contrasts, or petty 
 excellencies of whatever kind, which not improperly find a place 
 in the inferior branches of Painting, they doubtless imagine 
 themselves improving and extending the boundaries of their art 
 by this imitation ; but they are in reality violating its essential 
 character, by giving a different direction to its operations, and 
 proposing to themselves either what is unattainable, or at best 
 a meaner object of pursuit. The grave and austere character 
 of Sculpture requites the utmost degree of formality in com- 
 position ; picturesque contrasts have here no place ; every thing 
 is carefully weighed and measured, one side making almost an 
 
 exact 
 
DISCOURSE X. 203 
 
 exact equipoise to the other: a child is not a proper b.vlance 
 to a fuli-grown figure, nor is a figure sitting or stooping a 
 companion to an upright figure. 
 
 The excellence of every art must consist in the complete 
 accomplishment of its purpose ; and if by a false imitation of 
 nature, or mean ambition of producing a picturesque effect or 
 illusion of anv kind, all the grandeur of ideas which this art 
 endeavours to excite, be degraded or destroyed, we may bold]}' 
 oppose ourselves to any such innovation. If the producing of 
 a deception is the summit of this art, let us at once give to 
 statues the addition of colour; which will contribut emore towards 
 accomplishing this end, than all those artifices which have been 
 introduced and professedly defended, on no other principle but 
 that of rendering the work more natural. But as colour is univer- 
 fally rejected, every practice liable to the same objection must fall 
 with it. If the business of Sculpture were to administer plea- 
 sure to ignorance, or a mere entertainment to the senses, the 
 Venus of Medicis might certainly receive much improvement by 
 colour ; but the character of Sculpture makes it her duty to afford 
 delight of a different, and, perhaps, of a higher kind ; the de- 
 light resulting from the contemplation of perfect beauty : and 
 this, which is in truth an intellectual pleasure, is in many respects 
 incompatible with what is merely addreffed to the senses, such as 
 that with which ignorance and levity contemplate elegance of 
 form. 
 
 The Sculptor may be safely allowed to practise every means 
 within the power of his art to produce a deception, provided 
 
 D d 2 this 
 
204 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 this practice does not interfere with or deftroy higher excellen- 
 cies ; on these conditions he will be forced, however loth, to 
 acknowledge that the boundaries of his art have long been fixed, 
 and that all endeavours will be vain that hope to pass beyond the. 
 beft works which remain of ancient Sculpture. 
 
 Imitation is the means, and not the end, of art j it is em- 
 ployed by the sculptor as the language by which his ideas are pre- 
 sented to the mind of the spectator. Poetry and elocution of 
 every sort make use of signs, but those signs are arbitrary and 
 conventional. The sculptor employs the representation of the 
 thing itself ; but still as a means to a higher end, — as a gradual 
 ascent always advancing towards faultless form and perfect beauty. 
 It may be thought at the first view, that even this form, how- 
 ever perfectly represented, is to be valued and take its rank 
 only for the sake of still a higher object, that of conveying 
 sentiment and character, as they are exhibited by attitude, and 
 expression of the passions. But we are sure from experience, 
 that the beauty of form alone, without the afliftance of any other 
 quality, makes of itself a great work, and juftly claims our 
 esteem and admiration. As a proof of the high value we set on 
 the mere excellence of form, we may produce the greater! part 
 of the works of Michael Angelo, both in painting and sculp- 
 ture ; as well as moft of the antique itatues, which are juflly 
 esteemed in a very high degree, though no very marked or fin- 
 king character or expression of any kind is represented. 
 
 But, as a stronger instance that this excellence alone inspires 
 bsntimeut, what artist ever looked at the Torso without. feeling 
 
 a warmth 
 
D I S C O U R S E X. 205- 
 
 a warmth of enthusiasm, as from the highest efforts of poetry ? 
 From whence does this proceed ? What is there in this frag- 
 ment that produces this effect, but the perfection of this science 
 of abstract form I 
 
 A mind elevated to the contemplation of excellence perceives 
 in this defaced and shattered fragment, disjecli membra poeice, the 
 traces of superlative genius, the reliques of a work on which 
 succeeding ages can only gaze with inadequate admiration. 
 
 It may be said that this pleasure is reserved only to those who 
 have spent their whole life in the study and contemplation of 
 this art ; but the truth is, that all would feel its effects, if they 
 could divest themselves of the expectation of deception, and look 
 only for what it really is, a partial representation of nature. The 
 only impediment of their judgment must then proceed from their 
 being uncertain to what rank, or rather kind of excellence, it 
 aspires ; and to what sort of approbation it has a right. This 
 state of darkness is, without doubt, irksome to every mind ; but 
 by attention to works of this kind, the knowledge of what is 
 aimed at comes of itself, without being taught, and almost with- 
 out being perceived. 
 
 The Sculptor's art is limited in comparison of others, but it 
 has its variety and intricacy within its proper bounds. Its essence 
 is correctness : and when to correct and perfect form is added the 
 ornament of grace, dignity of character, and appropriated expres- 
 sion, as in the Apollo, the Venus, the Laocoon, the Moses of 
 
 Michael. 
 
ac6 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 Michael Anpelo, and manv others, this art may be said to have 
 accomplished its purpose. 
 
 What Grace is, how it is to be acquired or conceived, are 
 in speculation difficult questions ; but causa latet, res est notijji- 
 ma : without any perplexing enquiry, the efredt is hourly per- 
 ceived. I shall only observe, that its natural foundation is cor- 
 rectness of defign ; and though grace may be sometimes united 
 with incorrectness, it cannot proceed from it. 
 
 But to come nearer to our present subject. It has been said 
 that the grace of the Apollo depends on a certain degree of incor- 
 rectness ; that the head is not anatomically placed between the 
 shoulders j and that the lower half of the figure is longer than just 
 proportion allows. 
 
 I know that Correggio and Parmegiano are often produced 
 as authorities to support this opinion ; but very little attention 
 will convince us, that the incorrectness of some parts which we 
 find in their works, does not contribute to grace, but rather tends 
 to destroy it. The Madonna, with the sleeping Infant, and beau- 
 tiful group of Angels, by Parmegiano, in the Palazzo Piti, 
 would not have loft any of its excellence, if the neck, fin- 
 gers, and idneed the whole figure of the Virgin, inftead of be- 
 ing so very long and incorrect, had preserved their due pro- 
 portion. 
 
 In opposition to the first of these remarks I have the authority 
 of a very able sculptor of this Academy, who has copied that 
 figure, consequently measured and carefully examined it, to de- 
 -? clare, 
 
DISCOURSE X. 2>j 
 
 dare, that the criticism is not true. In regard to the last, it 
 must be remembered, that Apollo is here in the exertion of one 
 of his peculiar powers, which is swiftness ; he has therefore that 
 proportion which is best adapted to that character. This is no 
 more incorrectness, than when there is given to an Hercules an 
 extraordinary swelling and strength of muscles. 
 
 The art of discovering and expressing grace h difficult 
 enough of itself, without perplexing ourselves with what is in- 
 comprehensible. A supposition of such a monster as Grace, begot 
 by Deformity, is poison to the mind of a young Artist, and may 
 make him neglect what is essential to his art, correctness of Design, 
 in order to pursue a phantom which has no existence but in the 
 imagination of affected and refined speculators. 
 
 I cannot quit the Apollo, without making one observation 
 on the character of this figure. He is supposed to have just dis- 
 charged his arrow at the Python ; and, by the head retreating a 
 little towards the right shoulder, he appears attentive to its effect. 
 What I would remark, is the difference of this attention from 
 that of the Discobolus, who is engaged in the same purpose, 
 watching the effect of his Discus. The graceful, negligent, 
 though animated air of the one, and the vulgar eagerness of the 
 other, furnifh a signal instance of the judgment of the ancient 
 Sculptors in their nice discrimination of character. They are 
 both equally true to nature, and equally admirable, 
 
 It may be remarked, that Grace, Character, and Expression, 
 though words of different sense and meaning, and so underflood 
 
 when i 
 
203 
 
 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 when applied to the works of Painters, are indiscriminately used 
 when we speak of Sculpture. This indecifion we may suspect 
 to proceed from the undetermined effects of the Art itself : those 
 qualities are exhibited in Sculpture rather by form and attitude 
 than by the features, and can therefore be exprefied but in a very 
 general manner. 
 
 Though the Laocoon and his two sons have more expression 
 in the countenance than perhaps any other antique statues, yet 
 it is only the general expreffion of pain ; and this paffion is ftill 
 more ftrongly exprefied by the writhing and contortion of the 
 body than by the features. 
 
 It has been observed in a late publication, that if the atten- 
 tion of the Father in this group had been occupied more by the 
 distress of his children, than by his own sufferings, it would 
 have raised a much greater interest in the spectator. Though 
 this observation comes from a person whose opinion, in every 
 thing relating to the Arts, carries with it the higheft autho- 
 rity, yet I cannot but suspect that such refined expression is 
 scarce within the province of this Art ; and in attempting it, the 
 Artist will run great risk of enfeebling expression, and making 
 it less intelligible to the spectator. 
 
 As the general figure presents itself in a more conspicuous 
 manner than the features, it is there we must principally look 
 for expression or character ; patuit in corpore vultus ; and, in 
 this respect, the Sculptor's art is not unlike that of Dancing, 
 where the attention of the spectator is principally engaged by the 
 
 attitude 
 
DISCOURSE X. 209 
 
 attitude and action of the performer ; and it is there he must 
 look for whatever expression that art is capable of exhibiting. 
 The Dancers themselves acknowledge this, by often wearing 
 masks, with little diminution in the expression. The face bears 
 so very inconsiderable a proportion to the effect of the whole 
 figure, that the ancient Sculptors neglected to animate the fea- 
 tures, even with the general expression of the passions. Of this 
 the group of the Boxers is a remarkable instance ; they are en- 
 gaged in the most animated action with the greatest serenity of 
 countenance. This is not recommended for imitation, (for there 
 can be no reason why the countenance should not correspond 
 with the attitude and expression of the figure,) but is mentioned 
 in order to infer from hence, that this frequent deficiency in an- 
 cient Sculpture could proceed from nothing but a habit of inatten- 
 tion to what was considered as comparatively immaterial. 
 
 Those who think Sculpture can express more than we have 
 allowed, may ask, by what means we discover, at the first glance, 
 the character that is represented in a Bust, Cameo, or Intaglio ? 
 I suspect it will be found, on close examination, by him who is 
 resolved not to see more than he really does see, that the figures are 
 diflinguished by their infignia more than by any variety of form or 
 beauty. Take from Apollo his Lyre, from Bacchus his Thirsus 
 and Vine-leaves, and from Meleager the Boar's Head, and there 
 will remain little or no difference in their characters. In a Juno, 
 Minerva, or Flora, the idea of the artist seems to have gone no fur- 
 ther than representing perfect beauty, and afterwards adding the 
 proper attributes, with a total indifference to which they gave 
 them. Thus John De Bologna, after he had finished a group of 
 
 Vol. I. E e a young 
 
aio DISCOURSE X. 
 
 a young man holding up a young woman in his arms, with an old 
 man at his feet, called his friends together, to tell him what name 
 he should give it, and it was agreed to call it The Rape of the 
 Sabines* ; and this is the celebrated group which now stands be- 
 fore the old Palace at Florence. The figures have the same 
 general expression which is to be found in most of the antique 
 Sculpture; and yet it would be no wonder if future criticks should 
 find out delicacy of expression which was never intended ; and go 
 so far as to see, in the old man's countenance, the exact rela- 
 tion which he bore to the woman, who appears t@ be taken from, 
 him. 
 
 Though Painting and Sculpture are, like many other arts, 
 governed by the same general principles, yet in the detail, or what 
 may be called the by-laws of each art, there seems to be no longer 
 any connection between them. The different materials upon 
 which those two arts exert their powers, must infallibly create 
 a proportional difference in their practice. There are many 
 petty excellencies which the Painter attains with ease but which 
 are impracticable in Sculpture j and which, even if it could accom- 
 plish them, would add nothing to the true value and dignity of 
 the work. 
 
 Of the ineffectual attempts which the modern Sculptors have 
 made by way of improvement, these seem to be the principal : 
 The practice of detatching drapery from the figure, in order 
 to give the appearance of flying in the air ; — >• 
 
 * See // repass cli RaffaeUe Borghmt. 
 
 Of 
 
DISCOURSE X. 
 Of making different plans in the same bas-relievos ; 
 
 in 
 
 Of attempting to represent the effects of perspective: 
 
 To these we may add the ill effect of figures cloathed in 
 a modern dress. 
 
 The folly of attempting to make stone sport and flutter 
 in the air, is so apparent, that it carries with it its own 
 reprehension; and yet to accomplish this, seemed to be the 
 great ambition of many modern Sculptors, particularly Ber- 
 nini : his heart was so much set on overcoming this diffi- 
 culty, that he was for ever attempting it, though by that 
 attempt he risked every thing that was valuable in the art. 
 
 Bernini stands in the first class of modern Sculptors, and 
 therefore it is the business of criticism to prevent the ill effects 
 of so powerful an example. 
 
 From his very early work of Apollo and Daphne, the world 
 justly expected he would rival the best productions of ancient 
 Greece; but he soon strayed from the right path. And though 
 there is in his works something which always distinguishes him 
 from the common herd, yet he appears in his latter performances 
 to have lost his way. Instead of pursuing the study of that ideal 
 beauty with which he had so successfully begun, he turned his 
 mind to an injudicious quest of novelty; attempted what was not 
 within the province of the Art, and endeavoured to overcome the 
 hardness and obstinacy of his materials ; which even supposing he 
 
 E e 2 had 
 
212 
 
 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 had accomplished, so far as to make this species of drapery appear 
 natural, the ill effect and confusion occasioned by its being de- 
 tached from the figure to which it belongs, ought to have been 
 alone a sufficient reason to have deterred him from that practice. 
 
 We have not, I think, in our Academy, any of Bernini's 
 works, except a cast of the head of his Neptune; this will be suffi- 
 cient to serve us for an example of the mischief produced by 
 this attempt of representing the effects of the wind. The locks 
 of the hair are flying abroad in all directions, insomuch that 
 it is not a superficial view that can discover what the object is 
 which is represented, or distinguish those flying locks from the 
 features, as they are all of the same colour, of equal solidity, and 
 consequently project with equal force. 
 
 The same entangled confusion which is here occasioned by 
 the hair, is produced by drapery flying off ; which the eye mufr, 
 for the same reason, inevitably mingle and confound with the 
 principal parts of the figure. 
 
 It is a general rule, equally true in both Arts, that the form 
 and attitude of the figure mould be seen clearly, and without any 
 ambiguity, at the firft glance of the eye. This the Painter can 
 eafily do by colour, by lofing parts in the ground, or keeping 
 them so obscure as to prevent them from interfering with the. 
 more principal objects. The Sculptor has no other means of 
 preventing this confusion than by attaching the drapery for the 
 greater part close to the figure ; the folds of which following the. 
 
 order 
 
DISCOURSE X, aij 
 
 order of the limbs, whenever the drapery is seen, the eye is led 
 to trace the form and attitude of the figure at the same time. 
 
 The drapery of the Apollo, though it makes a large mass, and 
 is separated from the figure, does not affect the present question, 
 from the very circumftance of its being so completely separated ; 
 and from the regularity and simplicity of its form, it does not in 
 the least interfere with a distinct view of the figure. In reality, 
 it is no more a part of it than a pedestal, a trunk of a tree, or 
 an animal, which we often see joined to statues. 
 
 The principal use of those appendages is to ftrengthen and 
 preserve the statue from accidents ; and many are of opinion, 
 that the mantle which falls from the Apollo's arm is for the same 
 end ; but surely it answers a much greater purpose, by preven- 
 ting that dryness of effect which would inevitably attend a naked 
 arm, extended almost at full length ; to which we may add, the 
 disagreeable effect which would proceed from the body and arm 
 making a right angle. 
 
 The Apostles, in the church of St. John Lateran, appear to 
 me to fall under the censure of an injudicious imitation of the 
 manner of the Painters. The drapery of those figures, from 
 being disposed in large masses, gives undoubtedly that air of 
 grandeur which magnitude or quantity is sure to produce. But 
 though it should be acknowledged, that it is managed with great 
 skill and intelligence, and contrived to appear as light as the 
 materials will allow, yet the weight and solidity of stone was not 
 to be overcome. 
 
 Those. 
 
ai 4 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 Those figures are much in the style of Carlo Maratti, and such 
 as we may imagine he would have made if he had attempted 
 Sculpture ; and when we know he had the superin tendance of 
 that work, and was an intimate friend of one of the principal 
 Sculptors, we may suspect that his taste had some influence, if 
 he did not even give the designs. No man can look at those 
 figures without recognizing the manner of Carlo Maratti. They 
 have the same defect which his works so often have, of being 
 overloaded with drapery, and that too artificially disposed. 
 I cannot but believe, that if Ruscono, Le Gros, Monot, and 
 the rest of the Sculptors employed in that work, had taken for 
 their guide the simple dress, such as we see in the antique statues 
 of the philosophers, it would have given more real grandeur to 
 their figures, and would certainly have been more suitable to the 
 characters of the Apostles. 
 
 Though there is no remedy for the ill effect of those solid pro- 
 jections which flying drapery in stone must always produce in 
 statues, yet in bas-relievos it is totally different; those detached 
 parts of drapery the Sculptor has here as much power over as the 
 Painter, by uniting and losing it in the ground, so that it shall 
 not in the least entangle and confuse the figure. 
 
 But here again the Sculptor, not content with this successful 
 imitation, if it may be so called, proceeds to represent figures, 
 or groups of figures, on different plans; that is, some on the 
 fore-ground, and some at a greater distance, in the manner of 
 Painters in historical compositions. To do this he has no other 
 means than by making the distant figures of less dimensions, and 
 3 relieving 
 
D I S C O U R S E X* 215 
 
 relieving them in a less degree from the surface; but this is not 
 adequate to the end ; they will still appear only as figures on a 
 less scale, but equally near the eye with those in the front 
 of the piece^ 
 
 Nor does the mischief of this attempt, which never accom- 
 plishes its intention, rest here: by this division of the work 
 into many minute parts, the grandeur of its general effect is 
 inevitably destroyed. 
 
 Perhaps the only circumstance in which the Modern have 
 excelled the Ancient Sculptors, is the management of a single 
 group in basso-relievo; the art of gradually raising the group 
 from the flat surface, till it imperceptibly emerges into alto- 
 relievo. Of this there is no ancient example remaining that 
 discovers any approach to the skill which Le Gros has shewn 
 in an Altar in the Jesuits Church at Rome. Different plans 
 or ' degrees of relief in the same group have, as we see in 
 this instance, a good effect, though the contrary happens when 
 the groups are -separated, and are at some distance behind 
 each other. 
 
 This improvement in the art of composing a group in 
 Basso-relievo was probably first suggested by the practice of 
 the modern Painters, who relieve their figures, or groups of 
 figures, from their ground, by the same gentle gradation ; 
 and it is accomplished in every respect by the same general 
 principles ; but as the marble has no colour, it is the compo- 
 sition itself that must give it its light and shadow. The 
 
 ancient: 
 
2l6 
 
 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 ancient Sculptors could not borrow this advantage from their 
 Painters, for this was an art with which they appear to have 
 been entirely unacquainted j and in the bas-relievos of Loren- 
 zo Ghiberti, the casts of which we have in the Academy, this 
 art is no more attempted than it was by the Painters of his 
 age. 
 
 The next imaginary improvement of the moderns, is the 
 representing the effects of Perspective in Bas-relief. Of this lit- 
 tle need be said ; all must recollect: how ineffectual has been 
 the attempt of modern Sculptors to turn the buildings which 
 they have introduced as seen from their angle, with a view 
 to make them appear to recede from the eye in perspective. 
 This, though it may shew indeed their eager desire to en- 
 counter difficulties, shews at the same time how inadequate 
 their materials are even to this their humble ambition. 
 
 The Ancients, with great judgment, represented only the 
 elevation of whatever architecture they introduced into their 
 bas-reliefs, which is composed of little more than horizontal 
 or perpendicular lines ; whereas the interruption of crossed lines 
 or whatever causes a multiplicity of subordinate parts, destroys 
 that regularity and firmness of effect on which grandeur of 
 style so much depends* 
 
 We come now to the last consideration j in what manner 
 Statues are to be dressed, which are made in honour of men, either 
 now living, or lately departed. 
 
 This 
 
DISCOURSE X. 217 
 
 This is a question which might employ a long discourse 
 of itself : I shall at present only observe, that he who wishes 
 not to obstruct the Artist, and prevent his exhibiting his abili- 
 ties to their greatest advantage, will certainly not desire a 
 modern dress. 
 
 The desire of transmitting to posterity the shape of modern 
 dress must be acknowledged to be purchased at a prodigious 
 price, even the price of every thing that is valuable in art. 
 
 Working in stone is a very serious business ; and it seems 
 to be scarce worth while to employ such durable materials 
 in conveying to posterity a fashion of which the longest ex* 
 istence scarce exceeds a year. 
 
 However agreeable it may be to the Antiquary's principles 
 of equity and gratitude, that as he has received great pleasure 
 from the contemplation of the fashions of Dress of former 
 ages, he wishes to give the same satisfaction to future Anti- 
 quaries j yet, methinks pictures of an inferior style, or prints, 
 may be considered as quite sufficient, without prostituting this 
 great art to such mean purposes. 
 
 In this town may be seen an Equestrian Statue in a modem 
 dress, which may be sufficient to deter future artists from any 
 such attempt : even supposing no other objection, the famili- 
 arity of the modern dress by no means agrees with the dig- 
 nity and gravity of Sculpture. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 Sculpture 
 
Jfl* DISCOURSE X. 
 
 Sculpture is formal, regular, and austere; disdains all fami- 
 liar objects, as incompatible with its dignity ; and is an enemy 
 to every species of affectation, or appearance of academical art. 
 All contrast, therefore, of one figure to another, or of the limbs 
 of a .single figure, or even in the folds of the drapery, must 
 be sparingly employed. In short, whatever partakes of fancy 
 or caprice, or goss under the denomination of Picturesque, (how- 
 ever to be admired in its proper place,) is incompatible with 
 that sobriety and gravity which is peculiarly the characteristic!?; 
 of this art. 
 
 i There is no circumstance which more distinguishes a well re- 
 gulated and sound tafle, than a settled uniformity of design, where 
 all the parts are compact, and fitted to each other, every thing 
 being of a piece. This principle extends itself to all habits 
 of life, as well as to all works of art. Upon this general 
 ground therefore we may safely venture to pronounce, that the 
 uniformity and simplicity of the materials on which the Sculp- 
 tor labours, (which are only white marble,) prescribes bounds to 
 his art, and teaches him to confine himself to a proportion- 
 able simplicity of design. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE XL 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 
 DECEMBER 10, 1782. 
 
DISCOURSE XL 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 THE higheft ambition of every Artift is to be thought a 
 man of Genius. As long as this flattering quality is 
 joined to his name, he can bear with patience the imputation of 
 carelessnefs, incorrectness, or defects of whatever kind. 
 
 So far indeed is the presence of Genius from implying an 
 absence of faults, that they are considered by many as its inse- 
 parable companions. Some go such lengths as to take indi- 
 cations from them, and not only excuse faults on account of 
 Genius, but presume Genius from the existence of certain 
 faults. 
 
 It is certainly true, that a work may justly claim the 
 character of Genius, though full of errors ; and it is equally 
 true, that it may be faultless, and yet not exhibit the least 
 spark of Genius. This naturally suggests an enquiry, a de- 
 sire at least of enquiring, what qualities of a work and of a 
 workman may justly entitle a Painter to that character. 
 
 I HAVE 
 
222 DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 I have in a former discourse * endeavoured to impress you 
 with a fixed opinion, that a comprehensive and critical know- 
 ledge of the works of nature is the only source of beauty 
 and grandeur. But when we speak to Painters we must always 
 consider this rule, and all rules, with a reference to the mechani- 
 cal practice of their own particular Art. It is not properly in the 
 learning, the taste, and the dignity of the ideas, that Genius appears 
 as belonging to a painter. There is a Genius particular and appro- 
 priated to his own trade, (as I may call it,) distinguished from all 
 others. For that power, which enables the Artist to conceive his 
 subject with dignity, may be said to belong to general education; 
 and is as much the Genius of a Poet, or the professor of any 
 other liberal Art, or even a good Critick in any of those arts, as of 
 a Painter. Whatever sublime ideas may fill his mind, he is a 
 Painter only as he can put in practice what he knows, and com- 
 municate those ideas by visible representation. 
 
 If my expression can convey my idea, I wish to distinguish 
 excellence of this kind by calling it the Genius of mechanical 
 performance. This Genius consists, I conceive, in the power 
 of expressing that which employs your pencil, whatever it may 
 be, as a whole ; so that the general effect and power of the 
 whole may take possession of the mind, and for a while suspend 
 the consideration of the subordinate and particular beauties or 
 defects. 
 
 The advantage of this method of considering objects, is 
 what I wish now more particularly to enforce. At the same 
 
 * Discourse III, 
 
 3 time 
 
DISCOURSE XL %x% 
 
 lime I do not forget, that a Painter must have dhs power of 
 contacting as well as dilating his sight - 3 because, he that does 
 not at all express particulars, expresses nothing ; yet it is cer - 
 tain, that a nice discrimination of minute circumstances, and 
 a punctilious delineation of them, whatever excellence it may 
 have, (and I do not mean to detract from it,) never did confer- 
 on the Artist the character of Genius. 
 
 Beside those minute differences in things which arc frequently 
 not observed at all, and, when they are, make little impression, 
 there are in all considerable objects great characteristick distinc- 
 tions, which press strongly on the senses, and therefore fix the 
 imagination. These are by no means, as some perfons think, 
 an aggregate of all the small discriminating particulars ; nor will 
 such an accumulation of particulars ever express them. These 
 answer 'to what I have heard great lawyers call the leading 
 points in a case, or the leading cases relative to those 
 points-. 
 
 The detail of particulars, which does not assist the expres- 
 sion of the main characteristick, is worse than useless, it is 
 mischievous, as it dissipates the attention, and draws it from 
 the principal point. It may be remarked, that the impression 
 which is left on our mind, even of things which are familiar 
 to us, is seldom more than their general effect ; beyond which 
 we do not look in recognising such objeds. To express this in 
 Painting, is to express what is congenial and natural to the 
 mind of man, and what gives him by reflection his own mode 
 
224 DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 of conceiving. The other presupposes nicety and research, which 
 are only the business of the curious and attentive, and therefore 
 does not speak to the general sense of the whole species ; in 
 which common, and, as I may so call it, mother tongue, every 
 thing grand and comprehensive must be uttered. 
 
 I do not mean to prescribe whit degree of attention ought 
 to be paid to the minute parts ; this it is hard to settle. We . 
 are sure that it is expressing the general effect of the whole 
 which alone can give to objects their true and touching character ; 
 and wherever this is observed, whatever else may be neglected, 
 we acknowledge the hand of a Master. We may even go 
 further, and observe, than when the general effect only is 
 presented to us by a skilful hand, it appears to express the 
 object represented in a more lively manner than the minutest 
 resemblance would do. 
 
 These observations may lead to very deep questions, which 
 I do not mean here to discuss ; among others, it may lead 
 to an enquiry, Why we are not always pleased with the most 
 absolute possible resemblance of an imitation to its original 
 object. Cases may exist in which such a resemblance may be 
 even disagreeable. I shall only observe that the effect of figures 
 in Wax-work, though certainly a more exact representation than 
 can be given by Painting or Sculpture, is a sufficient proof 
 that the pleasure we receive from imitation is not increased 
 merely in proportion as it approaches to minute and detailed 
 reality i we are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends accom- 
 plished by seemingly inadequate means. 
 
 To 
 
DISCOURSE XL 225 
 
 To express protuberance by actual relief, to express the soft- 
 ness of flesh by the softness of wax, seems rude and inartificial, 
 and creates no grateful surprise. But to express distances on a 
 plain surface, softness by hard bodies, and particular colouring 
 by materials which are not singly of that colour, produces that 
 magick which is the prize and triumph of art. 
 
 Carry this principle a step further. Suppose the effect of 
 imitation to be fully compassed by means still more inadequate ; 
 let the power of a few well-chosen strokes, which supersede 
 labour by judgment and direction, produce a complete impression 
 of all that the mind demands in an object ; we are charmed with 
 such an unexpected happiness of execution, and begin to be tired 
 with the superfluous diligence, which in vain solicits an appetite 
 already satiated. 
 
 The properties of all objects, as far as a Painter is concerned 
 with them, are, the outline or drawing, the colour, and the light 
 and shade. The drawing gives the form, the colour its visible 
 quality, and the light and shade its solidity. 
 
 Excellence in any one of these parts of art will never be 
 acquired by an artist, unless he has the habit of looking upon 
 objects at large, and observing the effect which they have on 
 the eye when it is dilated, and employed upon the whole, without 
 seeing any one of the parts distinctly. It is by this that we 
 obtain the ruling characteristic^ and that we learn to imitate it 
 by short and dexterous methods. I do not mean by dexterity 
 a trick or mechanical habit, formed by guess, and established 
 
 Vol. I. G g by 
 
Q.l6 
 
 DISCOURSE XL 
 
 by custom ; but that science, which, by a profound knowledge 
 of ends and means, discovers the shortest and surest way to its 
 own purpose. 
 
 If we examine with a critical view the manner of those painters 
 whom we consider as patterns, we shall find that their great fame 
 does not proceed from their works being more highly finished 
 than thofe of other artifls, or from a more minute attention to 
 details, but from that enlarged comprehension which sees the 
 whole object at once, and that energy of art which gives its cha- 
 racteristick effect by adequate expression. 
 • 
 
 Raffaelle and Titian are two names which stand the 
 highest in our art ; one for Drawing, the other for Painting. 
 The most considerable and the most esteemed works of Raffaelle 
 are the Cartoons, and his Fresco works in the Vatican ; those, 
 as we ail know, are far from being minutely finished : his princi- 
 pal care and attention seems to have been fixed upon the adjustment 
 of the whole, whether it was the general composition, or the 
 composition of each individual figure - } for every figure may be said 
 to be a lesser whole, though in regard to the general work to which 
 it belongs, it is but a part y the same may be said of the head, 
 of the hands, and feet. Though he possessed this art of seeing and 
 comprehending the whole, as far as form is concerned, he did not 
 exert the same faculty in regard to the general effect, which is pre- 
 sented to the eye by colour, and light and shade. Of this the 
 deficiency of his oil pictures, where this excellence is more ex- 
 pected than in Fresco, is a sufficient proof, 
 
 It 
 
D I S C O U R S E XI. 227 
 
 It is to Titian we must turn our eyes to find excellence with 
 regard to colour, and light and shade, in the highest degree. He 
 was both the first and the greatest master of this art. By a few 
 strokes he knew how to mark the general image and character of 
 whatever object he attempted ; and produced, by this alone, a 
 truer representation than his master Giovanni Bellino, or any of 
 his predecessors, who finished every hair. His great care was to 
 express the general colour, to preserve the masses of light and 
 shade, and to give by opposition the idea of that solidity which 
 is inseparable from natural objects. When those are preserved, 
 though the work should possess no other merit, it will have in 
 a proper place its complete effect ; but where any of these are 
 wanting, however minutely laboured the picture may be in the 
 detail, the whole will have a false and even an unfinished appear- 
 ance, at whatever distance, or in whatever light, it can be 
 shewn. 
 
 It is vain to attend to the variation of tints, if, in that attention, 
 the general hue of flesh is lost ; or to finish ever so minutely 
 the parts, if the masses are not observed, or the whole not well 
 put together. 
 
 Vasari seems to have had no great disposition to favour the 
 Venetian Painters, yet he every where justly commends // modo di 
 fore, la mantera, la bella pratica ; that is, the admirable manner 
 and practice of that school. On Titian, in particular, he bestows 
 the epithets of giudicioso, bello, e stupendo* 
 
 G g 2 
 
 This 
 
ii% DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 This manner was then new to the world, but that unshaken 
 truth on which it is founded, has fixed it as a model to all suc- 
 ceeding Painters ; and those who will examine into the artifice, 
 will find it to consist in the power of generalising, and in the 
 shortness and simplicity of the means employed. 
 
 Many Artists, as Vasari likewise observes, have ignorantly 
 imagined they are imitating the manner of Titian, when they leave 
 their colours rough, and neglect the detail ; but, not possessing 
 the principles on which he wrought, they have produced what he 
 calls goffe pitture, absurd foolish pictures ; for such will always 
 be the consequence of affedting dexterity without science, without 
 selection, and without fixed principles. 
 
 Raffaelle and Titian seem to have looked at nature for dif- 
 ferent purposes ; they both had the power of extending their view 
 to the whole ; but one looked only for the general effect as pro* 
 duced by form the other as produced by colour. 
 
 ; We cannot entirely refuse to Titian the merit of attending to 
 the general form of his object, as well as colour ; but his defici- 
 ency lay, a deficiency at least when he is compared with Raffa- 
 elle, in ( not possessing the power, like him, of correcting the 
 form of his model by any general idea of beauty in his own 
 mind. Of this his St. Sebastian is a particular instance. This 
 figure appears to be a most exact representation both of the form 
 and the colour of the model, which he then happened to have 
 before him j it has all the force of nature, and the colouring is 
 flesh itself - f but, unluckily, the model was of a bad form, espe- 
 cially 
 
DISCOURSE XI. 229 
 
 cially the legs. Titian has with as much care preserved these 
 defects, as he has imitated the beauty and brilliancy of the co- 
 louring. In his colouring he was large and general, as in his 
 design he was minute and partial ; in the one he was a Genius, 
 in the other not much above a copier. I do not, however, speak 
 now of all his pictures ; instances enough may be produced in 
 his works, where those observations on his defects could not with 
 any propriety be applied : but it is in the manner, or language, 
 as it may be called, in which Titian and others of that school 
 express themselves, that their chief excellence lies. This man- 
 ner is in reality, in painting, what language is in poetry ; we 
 are all sensible how differently the imagination is affected by the 
 same sentiment expressed in different words, and how mean or 
 how grand the same object appears when presented to us by 
 different Painters. Whether it is the human figure, an animal, 
 or even inanimate objects, there is nothing, however unpromising 
 in appearance, but may be raised into dignity, convey sentiment, 
 and produce emotion, in the hands of a Painter of genius. 
 What was said of Virgil, that he threw even the dung about 
 the ground with an air of dignity, may be applied to Titian : 
 whatever he touched, however naturally mean, and habitually 
 familiar, by a kind of magick he invested with grandeur and 
 importance. 
 
 I must here observe, that I am not recommending a neglect 
 of the detail ; indeed it would be difficult, if not impossible, to 
 prescribe certain bounds, and tell how far, or when it is to be 
 observed or neglected ; much must, at last, be left to the taste 
 and judgment of the Artist, I am well aware that a judicious 
 
 detail 
 
2jo DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 detail will sometimes give the force of truth to the work, and 
 consequently interest the spectator. I only wish to impress on 
 your minds the true distinction between essential and subordi- 
 nate powers ; and to shew what qualities in the art claim your 
 chief attention, and what may, with the least injury to your 
 reputation, be neglected. Something, perhaps, always must be 
 neglected ; the lesser ought then to give way to the greater ; 
 and since every work can have but a limited time allotted to 
 it, (for even supposing a whole life to be employed about one 
 picture, it is still limited,) it appears more reasonable to employ 
 that time to the best advantage, in contriving various methods 
 of composing the work, — in trying different effect of light and 
 shadow, — and employing the labour of correction in heightening 
 by a judicious adjustment of the parts the effects of the whole, — 
 than that the time should be taken up in minutely finishing 
 those parts. 
 
 But there is another kind of high finishing which may safely 
 be condemned, as it seems to counteract its own purpose ; that 
 is, when the artist, to avoid that hardness which proceeds from 
 the outline cutting against the ground, softens and blends the 
 colours to excess : this is what the ignorant call high finishing, 
 but which tends to destroy the brilliancy of colour, and the true 
 effect of representation; which consists very much in preserving 
 the same proportion of sharpness and bluntness that is found in 
 natural objects. This extreme softning, instead of producing 
 the effect: of softness, gives the appearance of ivory, or some other 
 hard substance, highly polished. 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE XL aj* 
 
 The portraits of Cornelius Jansen appear to have this defect, 
 and consequently want that suppleness which is the characterise 
 tick of flesh ; whereas, in the works of Vandyck we find that 
 true mixture of softness and hardness perfectly observed. The 
 same defect may be found in the manner of Vanderwerf, in op- 
 position to that of Teniers ; and such alfo, we may add, is the 
 manner of RafFaelle in his oil pictures, in comparison with that 
 of Titian. 
 
 The name which RafFaelle has so justly maintained as the first 
 of Painters, we may venture to say was not acquired by this 
 laborious attention. His apology may be made by saying that it 
 was the manner of his country ; but if he had expressed his ideas 
 with the facility and eloquence, as it may be called, of Titian, 
 his works would certainly not have been less excellent ; and 
 that praise, which ages and nations have poured out upon him, 
 for possessing Genius in the higher attainments of art, would 
 have been extended to them all. 
 
 Those who are not conversant in works of art, are often 
 surprised at the high value set by connoisseurs on drawings which 
 appear careless, and in every respect unfinished ; but they are truly 
 valuable; and their value arises from this, that they give the 
 idea of an whole ; and this whole is often expressed by a dexterous 
 facility which indicates the true power of a Painter, even though 
 roughly exerted : whether it consists in the general composition^ 
 or the general form of each figure, or the turn of the attitude 
 which bestows grace and elegance. All this we may see fully 
 exemplified in the very skilful drawings of Parmegiano and Cor- 
 
 reggio, 
 
23 2 DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 reggio. On whatever account we value these drawings, it is 
 certainly not for high finishing, or a minute attention to 
 particulars. 
 
 Excellence in every part, and in every province of our 
 art, from the highest style of history down to the resemblances 
 of still-life, will depend on this power of extending the at- 
 tention at once to the whole, without which the greatest dili- 
 gence is vain. 
 
 I wish you to bear in mind, that when I speak of an whole, 
 I do not mean simply an whole as belonging to composition, 
 but an whole with respect to the general style of colouring j 
 an whole with regard to the light and shade ; an whole of 
 every thing which may separately become the main object of 
 a Painter. 
 
 I remember a Landscape- Painter in Rome, who was known 
 by the name of Studio, from his patience in high finishing, in 
 which he thought the whole excellence of art consisted ; so 
 that he once endeavoured, as he said, to represent every indi- 
 vidual leaf on a tree. This picture I never saw ; but I am very 
 sure that an artist, who looked only at the general character of 
 the species, the order of the branches, and the masses of the foli- 
 age, would in a few minutes produce a more true resemblance 
 of trees, than this Painter in as many months. 
 
 A Landscape-Painter certainly ought to study anatomically 
 (if I may use the expression) all the objects which he paints ; 
 
 3 but 
 
DISCOURSE XI. ij3 
 
 but when he is to turn his studies to use, his skill, as a man of 
 Genius, will be displayed in shewing the general effect, preserv- 
 ing the same degree of hardness and softness which the objects 
 have in nature ; for he applies himself to the imagination, not 
 to the curiosity, and works not for the Virtuoso or the Natu- 
 ralist, but for the common observer of life and nature. When 
 he knows his subject, he will know not only what to describe, 
 but what to omit j and this skill in leaving out, is, in all 
 things, a great part of knowledge and wisdom. 
 
 The same excellence of manner which Titian displayed in 
 History or Portrait-painting, is equally conspicuous in his Land- 
 scapes, whether they are professedly such, or serve only as back- 
 grounds. One of the most eminent of this latter kind is to be 
 found in the picture of St. Pietro Martire. The large trees, which 
 are here introduced, are plainly distinguished from each other by 
 the different manner with which the branches shoot from their 
 trunks, as well as by their different foliage j and the weeds in 
 the fore-ground are varied in the same manner, just as much 
 as variety requires, and no more. When Algarotti, speaking of 
 this picture, praises it for the minute discriminations of the leaves 
 and plants, even, as he says, to excite the admiration of a Bota- 
 nist, his intention was undoubtedly to give praise even at the 
 expence of truth ; for he must have known, that this is not 
 the character of the picture ; but connoisseurs will always find in 
 pictures what they think they ought to find : he was not aware 
 that he was giving a description injurious to the reputation 
 of Titian. 
 
 Vol. I. H h Such 
 
234 DISCOURSE XI, 
 
 Such accounts may be very hurtful to young artists, who 
 never have had an opportunity of seeing the work described ; 
 and they may possibly conclude, that this great Artist acquired 
 the name of the Divine Titian from his eminent attention to 
 such trifling circumstances, which, in reality, would not raise 
 him above the level of the most ordinary painter. 
 
 We may extend these observations even to what seems to have 
 but a single, and that an individual, object. The excellence of 
 Portrait- Painting, and we may add even the likeness, the cha- 
 racter, and countenance, as I have observed in another place, 
 depend more upon the general effect produced by the painter, 
 than on the exact expression of the peculiarities, or minute discri- 
 mination of the parts. The chief attention of the artist is there- 
 fore employed in planting the features in their proper places, 
 which so much contributes to giving the effect and true impression 
 of the whole. The very peculiarities may be reduced to classes 
 and general descriptions ; and there are therefore large ideas to 
 be found even in this contracted subject. He may afterwards 
 labour single features to what degree he thinks proper, but let 
 him not forget continually to examine, whether in finishing the 
 parts he is not destroying the general effect* 
 
 It is certainly a thing to be wished, that all excellence were 
 applied to illustrate subjects that are interesting and worthy of 
 being commemorated ; whereas, of half the pictures that are in 
 the world, the subject can be valued only as an occasion 
 which set the artist to work ; and yet, our high eitimation of 
 such pictures, without considering or perhaps without knowing 
 
 the 
 
DISCOURSE XI. 2J5 
 
 the subject, shews how much our attention is engaged by the 
 art alone. 
 
 Perhaps nothing that we can say will so clearly shew the 
 advantage and excellence of this faculty, as that it confers the 
 character of Genius on works that pretend to no other merit ; 
 in which is neither expression, character, or dignity, and where 
 none are interested in the subject. We cannot refuse the cha- 
 racter of Genius to the marriage of Paulo Veronese, without op- 
 posing the general sense of mankind, (great authorities have called 
 it the Triumph of Painting,) or, to the altar of St. Augustine 
 at Antwerp, by Rubens, which equally deserves that title, 
 and for the same reason. Neither of those pictures have any 
 interesting story to support them. That of Paulo Veronese, 
 is only a representation of a great concourse of people at a dinner ; 
 and the subject of Rubens, if it may be called a subject where 
 nothing is doing, is an assembly of various Saints that lived 
 in different ages. The whole excellence of those pictures con- 
 sists in mechanical dexterity, working however under the in- 
 fluence of that comprehensive faculty which I have so often 
 mentioned. 
 
 It is by this, and this alone, that the mechanical power is 
 ennobled, and raised much above its natural rank. And it appears 
 to me, that with propriety it acquires this character, as an in- 
 stance of that superiority with which mind predominates over 
 matter, by contracting into one whole what nature has made 
 multifarious. 
 
 II h 2 
 
 The 
 
236 DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 The great advantage of this idea of a whole is, that a greater 
 quantity of truth may be said to be contained and expressed in 
 a few lines or touches, than in the most laborious finishing of 
 the parts, where this is not regarded. It is upon this foundation 
 that it stands ; and the justness of the observation would be con- 
 firmed by the ignorant in art, if it were possible to take their 
 opinions unseduced by some false notion of what they imagine 
 they ought to see in a Picture. As it is an art, they think they 
 ought to be pleased in proportion as they see that art ostentati- 
 ously displayed j they will, from this supposition, prefer neat- 
 ness, high-finishing, and gaudy colouring, to the truth, sim- 
 plicity, and unity of nature. Perhaps too, the totally ignorant 
 beholder, like the ignorant artist, cannot comprehend a whole, 
 nor even what it means. But if false notions do not anticipate 
 their perceptions, they who are capable of observation, and who, 
 pretending to no fkill, look only straight forward, will praise and 
 condemn in proportion as the Painter has succeeded in the effect 
 of the whole. Here general satisfaction, or general dislike, 
 though perhaps despised by the Painter, as proceeding from the 
 ignorance of the principles of art, may yet help to regulate his 
 conduct, and bring back his attention to that which ought to be 
 his principal object, and from which he has- deviated for the 
 sake of minuter beauties. 
 
 An instance of this right judgment I once saw in a child, in 
 going through a gallery where there were many portraits of the 
 last ages, which, though neatly put out of hand, were very ill 
 put together. The child paid no attention to the neat finishing 
 or naturalness of any bit of drapery, but appeared to observe only 
 ? the 
 
D I S C O U R S E XI. 237 
 
 the ungracefulness of the perfons reprefented, and put herself in 
 the posture of every figure which she saw in a forced andaukward 
 attitude. The censure of nature, uninformed, fastened upon the 
 greatest fault that could be in a picture, because it related to 
 the character and management of the whole. 
 
 I should be sorry, if what has been said should be understood 
 to have any tendency to encourage that carelessness which leaves 
 work in an unfinished state. I commend nothing for the want 
 of exactness j I mean to point out that kind of exactness which is 
 the best, and which is alone truly to be so esteemed. 
 
 So far is my disquisition from giving countenance to idleness, 
 that there is nothing in our art which enforces such continual 
 exertion and circumspection, as an attention to the general effect 
 of the whole. It requires much study and much practice; it 
 requires the Painter's entire mind ; whereas the parts may be 
 finishing by nice touches, while his mind is engaged on other mat- 
 ters ; he may even hear a play or a novel read without much 
 disturbance. The artist who flatters his own indolence, will 
 continually find himself evading this active exertion, and applying 
 his thoughts to the ease and laziness of highly finishing the parts ; 
 producing at last what Cowley calls " laborious effects of idle- 
 ness." 
 
 No work can be too much finished, provided the diligence 
 employed be directed to its proper object ; but I have observed 
 that an excessive labour in the detail has, nine times in ten, been 
 pernicious to the general effect, even when it has been the labour 
 
tj8 DISCOURSE XI. • 
 
 of great masters. It indicates a bad choice, which is an ill set- 
 ting out in any undertaking. 
 
 To give a right dire6tion to your industry has been my prin- 
 cipal purpose in this discourse. It is this, which I am confident 
 often makes the difference between two Students of equal capaci- 
 ties, and of equal industry. While the one is employing his la- 
 bour on minute objects of little consequence, the other is acquir- 
 ing the art, and perfecting the habit, of seeing nature in an 
 extensive view, in its proper proportions, and its due subordina- 
 tion of parts. 
 
 Before I conclude, I must make one observation sufficiently 
 connected with the present subject. 
 
 The same extension of mind which gives the excellence of 
 Genius to the theory and mechanical practice of the art, will 
 direct him likewise in the method of study, and give him the 
 superiority over those who narrowly follow a more confined track 
 of partial imitation. Whoever, in order to finish his education, 
 should travel to Italy, and spend his whole time there only in co- 
 pying pictures, and measuring statues or buildings, (though these 
 things are not to be neglected,) would return with little improve- 
 ment. He that imitates the Iliad, says Dr. Young, is not imi- 
 tating Homer. It is not by laying up in the memory the parti- 
 cular details of any of the great works of art, that any man 
 becomes a great artist, if he stops without making himself 
 master of the general principles on which these works are con- 
 ducted. If he even hopes to rival those whom he admires, he 
 
 must 
 
DISCOURSE XI. 239 
 
 must consider their works as the means of teaching him the true 
 art of seeing nature. When this is acquired, he then may be 
 said to have appropriated their powers, or at least the foundation 
 of their powers, to himself ; the rest must depend upon his own 
 industry and application. The great business of study is, to form 
 a mind, adapted and adequate to all times and all occasions ; to 
 which all nature is then laid open, and which may be said to 
 possess the key of her inexhaustible riches. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10, 1784. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 IN confequence of the fituation in which I have the honour to 
 be placed in this Academy, it has often happened, that I have 
 been consulted by the young Students who intend to spend some 
 years in Italy, concerning the method of regulating their studies. 
 I am, as I ought to be, solicitously desirous to communicate the 
 entire result of my experience and observation ; and though my 
 openness and facility in giving my opinions might make some 
 amends for whatever was defective in them, yet I fear my answers 
 have not often given satisfaction. Indeed I have never been sure, 
 that I understood perfectly what they meant, and was not without 
 some suspicion that they had not themselves very distinct ideas of 
 the object of their enquiry. 
 
 If the information required was, by what means the path that 
 leads to excellence could be discovered j if they wished to kn 
 whom they were to take for their guides ; what to adhere to, and 
 what to avoid ; where they were to bait, and where they were to 
 take up their rest ; what was to be tasted only, and what should 
 be their diet ; such general directions are certainly proper for a 
 Student to ask, and for me, to the best of my capacity, to give; 
 
 I i 2 but 
 
244 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 but these rules have been already given : they have in reality been 
 the subject of almost all my Discourses from this place. But I 
 am rather inclined to think, that by method of 'study , it was meant 
 (as several do mean,) that the times and the seasons should be 
 prescribed, and the order settled, in which every thing was to be 
 done : that it might be useful to point out to what degree of 
 excellence one part of the Art was to be carried, before the Student 
 proceeded to the next ; how long he was to continue to draw from 
 the ancient statues, when to begin to compose, and when to apply 
 to the study of colouring. 
 
 Such a detail of instruction might be extended with a great 
 deal of plausible and ostentatious amplification. But it would at 
 best be useless, Our studies will be for ever, in a very great degree, 
 under the direction of chance ; like travellers, we must take what 
 we can get, and when we can get it ; whether it is, or is not 
 administered to us in the most commodious manner, in the 
 most proper place, or at the exact minute when we would 
 wish to have it. 
 
 Treatises on education and method of study, have always 
 appeared to me to have one general fault. They proceed upon 
 a false supposition of life ; as if we possessed not only a power over 
 events and circumstances, but had a greater power over ourselves 
 than I believe any of us will be found to possess. Instead of suppos- 
 ing ourselves to be perfect patterns of wisdom and virtue, it 
 seems to me more reasonable to treat ourselves (as I am sure we 
 must now and then treat others) like humoursome children, whose 
 fancies are often to be indulged in order to keep them in good- 
 humour 
 
DISCOURSE XIT. s 45 
 
 humour with themselves and their pursuits. It is necessary to use 
 some artifice of this kind in all processes which by their very 
 nature are long, tedious, and complex, in order to prevent our 
 taking that aversion to our studies, which the continual shackles 
 of methodical restraint are sure to produce. 
 
 I would rather wish a Student, as soon as he goes abroad, to 
 employ himself upon whatever he has been incited to by any 
 immediate impulse, than to go sluggishly about a prescribed task : 
 whatever he does in such a state of mind, little advantage accrues 
 from it, as nothing sinks deep enough to leave any lasting impres- 
 sion ; and it is impossible that any thing should be well understood, 
 or well done, that is taken into a reluctant understanding, and ex* 
 ecu ted with a servile hand. 
 
 It is desirable, and indeed is necessary to intellectual health, 
 that the mind should be recreated and refreshed with a variety in 
 our studies ; that in the irksomeness of uniform pursuit we should 
 be relieved, (and if I may so say, deceived,) as much as possible. 
 Besides ; the minds of men are so very differently constituted, that 
 it is impossible to find one method which shall be suitable to all. It 
 is of no use to prescribe to those who have no talents ; and those 
 who have talents will find methods for themselves 4 methods 
 dictated to them by their own particular dispositions, and by the 
 experience of their own particular necessities. 
 
 However, I would not be understood to extend this doctrine 
 to the younger Students : the first part of the life of a Student, 
 like that of other school-boys, must necessarily be a life of 
 
 restraint, 
 
246 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 restraint. The grammar, the rudiments, however unpalatable, must 
 at all events be mastered. After a habit is acquired of drawing cor- 
 rectly from the model (whatever it may be) which he has before 
 him, the rest, I think, may be safely left to chance ; always 
 supposing that the Student is employedy and that his studies are 
 directed to the proper object. 
 
 A passion for his Art, and an eager desire to excel, will 
 more than supply the place of method. By leaving a Student to 
 himself he may possibly indeed be led to undertake matters above 
 his strength: but the trial will at least have this advantage, it 
 will discover to himself his own deficiences j and this discovery 
 alone, is a very considerable acquisition. One inconvenience, I 
 acknowledge, may attend bold and arduous attempts ; frequent 
 failure may discourage. This evil, however, is not more perni- 
 cious than the slow proficiency which is the natural consequence 
 of too easy tasks. 
 
 Whatever advantages method may have in dispatch of bu- 
 siness, (and there it certainly has many, ) I have but little confi- 
 dence of its efficacy in acquiring excellence in any Art whatever. 
 Indeed, I have always strongly suspected, that this love of method, 
 on which some perfons appear to place so great dependance, is, in 
 reality, at the bottom, a love of idleness ; a want of sufficient 
 energy to put themselves into immediate action : it is a sort of 
 an apology to themselves for doing nothing. I have known Artists 
 who may truly be said to have spent their whole lives, or at 
 least the most precious part of their lives, in planning methods of 
 study, without ever beginning ; resolving, however, to put it all 
 
 in 
 
DISCOURSE Xlf. 247 
 
 in practice at some time or other, — when a certain period arrives, — 
 when proper conveniences are procured, — or when they remove 
 to a certain place better calculated for study. It is not uncom- 
 mon for such perfons to go abroad with the most honest and 
 sincere resolution of studying hard, when they shall arrive at 
 the end of their journey. The same want of exertion, arising 
 from the same cause which made them at home put off the 
 day of labour until they had found a proper scheme for it, still 
 continues in Italy, and they consequently return home with little, 
 ifany, improvement. 
 
 In the practice of art, as well as in morals, it is necessary to keep 
 a watchful and jealous eye over ourselves : idleness, assuming the 
 specious disguise of industry, will lull to sleep all suspicion of 
 our want of an active exertion of strength. A provision of end- 
 less apparatus, a bustle of infinite enquiry and research, or even 
 the mere mechanical labour of copying, may be employed, to 
 evade and shuffle off real labour, — the real labour of thinking. 
 
 I have declined for these reasons to point out any particular 
 method and course of study to young Artists on their arrival in 
 Italy. I have left it to their own prudence, a prudence which 
 will grow and improve upon them in the course of unremitted, 
 ardent industry, directed by a real love of their profession, and 
 an unfeigned admiration of those who have been universally ad- 
 mitted as patterns of excellence in the art. 
 
 In the exercise of that general prudence, I shall here submit 
 to their consideration such miscellaneous observations as have 
 3 occurred 
 
248 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 occurred to me on considering the mistaken notions or evil habits 
 which have prevented that progress towards excellence which 
 the natural abilities of several Artists might otherwise have en- 
 abled them to make. 
 
 False opinions and vicious habits have done far more mischief 
 to Students, and to Professors too, than any wrong methods of 
 study. 
 
 Under the influence of sloth, or of some mistaken notion, 
 is that disposition which always wants to lean on other men. 
 Such Students are always talking of the prodigious progress they 
 mould make if they could but have the advantage of being taught 
 by some particular eminent Master. To him they would wish 
 to transfer that care which they ought and must take of them- 
 selves. Such are to be told, that after the rudiments are past, 
 very little of our Art can be taught by others. The most skilful 
 Master can do little more than put the end of the clue into 
 the hands of his Scholar, by which he must conduct himself. 
 
 It is true, the beauties and the defects of the works of our 
 predecessors may be pointed out ; the principles on which their 
 works are conducted, may be explained ; the great examples of 
 Ancient Art may be spread out before them ; but the most sump- 
 tuous entertainment is prepared in vain, if the guests will not take 
 the trouble of helping themselves. 
 
 Even the Academy itself, where every convenience for study 
 is procured, and laid before them, may, from that very cir- 
 cumstance, 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 24$ 
 
 cumstance, from leaving no difficulties to be encountered in the 
 pursuit, cause a remission of their industry. It is not un- 
 common to see young artists whilst they are struggling with every 
 obstacle in their way, exert themselves with such, success as 
 to outstrip competitors possessed of every means of improve- 
 ment. The promising expectation which was formed, on so 
 much being done with so little means, has recommended them 
 to a Patron who has supplied them with every convenience of study; 
 from that time their industry and eagerness of pursuit has for- 
 saken them j they stand still, and see others rush on before 
 them. 
 
 Such men are like certain animals, who will feed only when 
 there is but little provender, and that got at with difficulty through 
 the bars of a rack, but refuse to touch it v/hen there is an abun- 
 dance before them. 
 
 Perhaps, such a falling off may proceed from the faculties 
 being overpowered by the immensity of the materials ; as the 
 traveller despairs ever to arrive at the end of his journey when the 
 whole extent of the road which he is to pass is at once displayed 
 to his view. 
 
 Among the first moral qualities therefore, which a Student 
 ought to cultivate, is a just and manly confidence in himself, or 
 rather in the effects of that persevering industry which he is re- 
 solved to possess. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 When 
 
250 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 When RafFaelle, by means of his connection with Bramantc* 
 the Pope's Architect, was fixed upon to adorn the Vatican 
 with his works, he had done nothing that marked in him any 
 great superiority over his contemporaries ; though he was then 
 but young, he had under his direction the most considerable 
 Artists of his age ; and we know what kind of men those were : 
 a lesser mind would have sunk under such a weight; and if we 
 should judge from the meek and gentle disposition which we are 
 told was die character of Raffaelle, we might expect this would 
 have happened to him ; but his strength appeared to increase 
 in proportion as exertion was required ; and it is not impro- 
 bable that we are indebted to the good fortune which first pla- 
 ced him in that conspicuous situation, for those great examples 
 of excellence which he has left us. 
 
 The observations to which I formerly wished, and now desire, 
 to point your attention, relate not to errors which are committed 
 by those who have no claim to merit, but to those inadvertencies 
 into which men of parts only can fall by the over-rating or the 
 abuse of some real, though perhaps subordinate, excellence. The 
 errors last alluded to are those of backward, timid characters ; 
 what I shall now speak of, belong to another class; to those 
 Artists who are distinguished for the readiness and facility of their 
 invention. It is undoubtedly a splendid and desirable accom- 
 plishment to be able to design instantaneously any given subject. 
 It is an excellence that I believe every Artist would wish to 
 possess ; but unluckily, the manner in which this dexterity is 
 acquired, habituates the mind to be contented with first thoughts 
 without choice or selection. The judgment, after it has been 
 
 long- 
 
 o 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 251 
 
 long passive, by degrees loses its power of becoming active when 
 exertion is necessary. 
 
 Whoever, therefore, has this talent, must in some measure 
 undo what he has had the habit of doing, or at least give a new 
 turn to his mind : great works, which are to live and stand the 
 criticism of posterity, are not performed at a heat. A propor- 
 tionable time is required for deliberation and circumspection. I 
 remember when I was at Rome looking at the fighting Gladiator, 
 in company with an eminent Sculptor, and I expressed my admi- 
 ration of the fkill with which the whole is composed, and the 
 minute attention of the Artist to the change of every muscle in 
 that momentary exertion of strength, he was of opinion that a work 
 so perfect required nearly the whole life of man to perform. 
 
 I believe, if we look around us, we shall find, that in 
 the sister art of Poetry, what has been soon done, has been as soon 
 forgotten. The judgment and practice of a great Poet on this 
 occasion is worthy attention. Metastasio, who has so much 
 and so justly distinguished himself throughout Europe, at his 
 outset was an Improvvt'satore, or extempore Poet, a description 
 of men not uncommon in Italy : it is not long sines he was afked 
 by a friend, if he did not think the custom of inventing and 
 reciting extempore, which he practised when a boy in his cha- 
 racter of an Improvvisatore, might not be considered as a hnp- 
 py beginning of his education ; he thought it, on the contrary, a 
 disadvantage to him : he said that he had acquired by that habit, a 
 carelessness and incorrectness, which it cost him much trouble to 
 overcome, and to substitute in the place of it a totally different 
 
 K k 2 habit, 
 
•2 S 2 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 habit, that of thinking with selection, and of expressing himself 
 with correctness and precision. 
 
 However extraordinary it may appear, it is certainly true, 
 that the inventions of the Pittori improvvisatori, as they may be 
 called, have,- — notwithstanding the common boast of tfaeit authors 
 that all is spun from their own brain, — very rarely any thing that 
 lias in the least the air of originality : their compositions are gene- 
 rally common-place ; uninteresting, without character or ex- 
 pression ; like those flowery speeches that we sometimes hear, 
 which impress no new ideas on the mind. 
 
 I would not be thought, however, by what has been said, 
 to oppose the use, the advantage, the necessity there is, of a 
 Painter's being readily able to express his ideas by Iketching. 
 The further he can carry such designs, the better. The evil to 
 be apprehended is, his resting there, and not correcting them 
 afterwards from nature, or taking the trouble to look about him 
 for whatever assistance the works of others will afford him. 
 
 W e are not to suppose, that when a Painter sits down to de- 
 liberate on any work, he has all his knowledge to seek j he must 
 not only be able to draw extempore the human figure in every 
 variety of action, but he must be acquainted likewise with the 
 general principles of composition, and possess a habit of fore- 
 seeing, while he is composing, the effect of the masses of 
 light and shadow, that will attend such a disposition. His mind is 
 entirely occupiedby his at tention to the whole. It is a fubfequent 
 
 consi- 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 253 
 
 consideration to determine the attitude and expression of indivi- 
 dual figures. It is in this period of his work that I would recom- 
 mend to every Artist to look over his porto-folio, or pocket-book, 
 in which he has treasured up all the happy inventions, all the 
 extraordinary and expressive attitudes that he has met with in the 
 course of his studies ; not only for the sake of borrowing from 
 those studies whatever may be applicable to his own work, but 
 likewise on account of the great advantage he will receive by 
 bringing the ideas of great Artists more distinctly before his mind, 
 which will teach him to invent other figures in a similar 
 style. 
 
 Sir Francis Bacon speaks with approbation -of the provision- 
 ary methods Demosthenes and Cicero employed to assist their 
 invention ; and illustrates their use by a quaint comparison after 
 his manner. These particular Studios being not immediately 
 connected with our Art, I need not cite the passage I allude to, 
 and shall only observe that such preparation totally opposes the 
 general received opinions that are floating in the world, concern- 
 ing genius and inspiration. The same great man in another place 
 speaking of his own Essays, remarks, that they treat of " those 
 " things, wherein both men's lives and persons are most con- 
 " versant, whereof a man shall find much in experience, but 
 " little in books :" they are then what an artist would naturally 
 call invention ; ancf yet we may suspect that even the genius of 
 Bacon, great as it was, would never have been enabled to have 
 made those observations, if his mind had not been trained and 
 disciplined by reading the observations of others. Nor could he 
 
 3 without 
 
ISA- 
 
 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 without such reading have known that those opinions were not to 
 be found in other books. 
 
 I know there are many Artists of great fame, who appear 
 never to have looked out of themselves, and who probably would 
 think it derogatory to their character, to be supposed to borrow 
 from any other Painter. But when we recoiled:, and compare 
 the works of such men with those who took to their assistance 
 the inventions of others, we shall be convinced of the great advan- 
 tage of this latter practice. 
 
 The two men most eminent for readiness of invention, that 
 occur to me, are Luca Giordano and La Fage ; one in painting, 
 and the other in drawing. 
 
 To such extraordinary powers as were possessed by both of 
 those Artists, we cannot refuse the character of Genius ; at the 
 same time, it must be acknowledged, that it was that kind oi 
 mechanick Genius which operates without much assistance o 
 the head. In all their works, which are (as might be expected) 
 very numerous, we may look in vain for any thing that can be 
 said to be original and striking ; and yet, according to the 
 ordinary ideas of originality, they have as good pretensions as 
 most Painters ; for they borrowed very little from others, and 
 still less will any Artist, that can distinguish between excellence 
 and insipidity, ever borrow from them. 
 
 ■ 
 
 To those men, and all such, let us oppose the practice of the 
 first of Painters, I suppose we shall all agree, that no man ever 
 
 possessed 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 255 
 
 possessed a greater power of invention, and stood less in need of 
 foreign assistance, than Raffaelle ; and yet, when he was design- 
 ing one of his greatest as well as latest works, the Cartoons, it 
 is very apparent that he had the studies which he had made from 
 Masaccio before him. Two noble figures of St. Paul, which he 
 found there, he adopted in his own work : one of them he took 
 for St. Paul preaching at Athens; and the other for the same 
 Saint, when chastising the sorcerer Elymas. Another figure in 
 the same work, whose head is sunk in his breast, with his eyes 
 shut, appearing deeply wrapt up in thought, was introduced 
 amongst the listeners to the preaching of St. Paul. The most 
 material alteration that is made in those two figures of St. Paul, is 
 the addition of the left hands, which are not seen in the origi- 
 nal. It is a rule that Raffaelle observed, (and indeed ought never 
 to be dispensed with,) in a principal figure, to shew both hands, 
 that it should never be a question, what is become of the other 
 hand. For the Sacrifice at Listra, he took the whole cere- 
 mony much as it stands in an ancient Bas-relievo, since published 
 in the Admiranda. 
 
 I have given examples from those pictures only of Raffaelle 
 which we have among us, though many other instances might be 
 produced of this great Painter's not disdaining assistance : indeed 
 his known wealth was so great, that he might borrow where he 
 pleased without loss of credit. 
 
 It may be remarked, that this work of Masaccio, from which he 
 has borrowed so freely, was a publick work, and at no farther dis- 
 fti \ce fromPvome, than Florence j so that if he had considered it a 
 
 disgraceful 
 
* 5 6" DISCOU R"S E XII. 
 
 disgraceful theft, he was sure to be detected ; but he was well 
 atisned that his character for Invention would be little a ffeclied by 
 such a discovery ; nor is it, except in the opinion of those 
 who are ignorant of the manner in which great works are 
 built. 
 
 Those who steal from mere poverty; who, having nothing of 
 their own, cannot exist a minute without making such depredations; 
 who are so poor that they have no place in which they can even 
 deposit what they have taken ; to men of this description nothing 
 can be said : but such artists as those to whom I suppose myself 
 now speaking, men whom I consider as competently provided with 
 all the necessaries and conveniences of art, and who do not desire to 
 steal baubles and common trash, but wish only to possess peculiar 
 rarities which they select to ornament their cabinets, and take care 
 to enrich the general store with materials of equal or of greater 
 value than what they have taken ; such men surely need not be 
 ashamed of that friendly intercourse which ought to exist among 
 Artists, of receiving from the dead and giving to the living, and 
 perhaps to those who are yet unborn. 
 
 The dailv food and nourishment of the mind of an Artist is 
 found in the great works of his predecessors. There is no other 
 way for him to become great himself. Serpens nisi ferpentem com- 
 ederity non Jit draco y is a remark of a whimsical Natural History, 
 which I have read, though I do not recoiled: its title ; how- 
 ever falfe as to dragons, it is applicable enough to Artifts. 
 
 Raffaelle 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 4 S7 
 
 Raffaelle, as appears from what has been said, had 
 carefully studied the works of Masaccio ; and indeed there was 
 no other, if we except Michael Angelo, (whom he likewise 
 imitated,) so worthy of his attention j and though his manner 
 was dry and hard, his compositions formal, and not enough 
 diversified, according to the custom of Painters in that early 
 period, yet his works possess that grandeur and simplicity which 
 accompany, and even sometimes proceed from, regularity and 
 hardness of manner. We must consider the barbarous state of the 
 Arts before his time, whenfkill in drawing was so little understood, 
 that the best of the painters could not even foreshorten the foot, 
 but every figure appeared to stand upon his toes ; and what serv- 
 ed for drapery, had, from the hardness and smallness of the 
 folds, too much the appearance of cords clinging round the body. 
 He first introduced large drapery, flowing in an easy and natural 
 manner : indeed he appears to be the first who discovered the path 
 that leads to every excellence to which the Art afterwards arrived, 
 and may therefore be justly considered as one of the Great Fathers 
 of modern Art. 
 
 Though I have been led on to a longer digression respecting 
 this great Painter than I intended, yet I cannot avoid mentioning 
 another excellence which he possessed in a very eminent degree ; 
 he was as much distinguished among his contemporaries for his 
 diligence and industry, as he was for the natural faculties of his 
 mind. We are told, that his whole attention was absorbed in 
 the pursuit of his art, and that he acquired the name of Masaccio*, 
 
 * The addition of acclo denotes fome deformity or imperfection attending that person 
 to whom it is applied. 
 
 Vol. I. L 1 from 
 
258 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 from his total disregard to his dress, his person, and all the 
 common concerns of life. He is indeed a signal instance of what 
 well-directed diligence will do in a short time ; he lived but twen- 
 ty-seven years ; yet in that short space carried the art so far beyond 
 what it had before reached, that he appears to stand alone as a 
 model for his successors. Vasari gives a long catalogue of Paint- 
 ers and Sculptors, who formed their taste, and learned their Art, 
 by studying his works ; among those, he names Michael Angelo, 
 Lionardo da Vinci, Pietro Perugino, Raffaelle, Bartolomeo, 
 Andrea del Sarto, II Rosso, and Pierino del Vaga. 
 
 The habit of contemplating and brooding over the ideas of 
 great geniusses, till you find yourself warmed by the contact,, 
 is the true method of forming an Artist-like mind ; it is im- 
 poffible, in the presence of those great men, to think, or invent 
 in a mean manner; a state of mind is acquired that receives those 
 ideas only which relish of grandeur and simplicity. 
 
 Beside the general advantage of forming the taste by such an 
 intercourse, there is another of a particular kind, which was 
 suggested to me by the practice of Raffaelle, when imitating 
 the work of which I have been speaking. The figure of the 
 Proconsul Sergius Paulus is taken from the Felix of Masaccio, 
 though one is a front figure, and the other seen in profile ; the 
 action is likewise somewhat changed ; but it is plain Raffaelle 
 had that figure in his mind. There is a circumflance indeed, 
 which I mention by the bye, which marks it very particularly 5 
 SergiusPaulus wears a crown of laurel ; this is hardly reconcileable 
 to strict propriety, and the costume of which Raffaelle was in 
 
 general 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 25c 
 
 general a good observer ; but he found it so in Masaccio, and he 
 did not bestow so much pains in disguise as to change it. It 
 appears to me to be an excellent practice thus to suppose the 
 figures which you wish to adopt in the works of those great Paint- 
 ers to be statues ; and to give, as Raffaelle has here given, ano- 
 ther view, taking care to preserve all the spirit and grace you 
 find in the original, 
 
 I should hope, from what has been lately said, that it is not 
 neceffary to guard myself against any supposition of recom- 
 mending an entire dependence upon former masters. I do not 
 desire that you should get other people to do your business, or to 
 think for you j I only wish you to consult with, to call in, as 
 Counsellors, men the most distinguished for their knowledge and 
 experience, the result of which counsel must ultimately depend 
 upon yourself. Such conduct in the commerce of life has 
 never been considered as disgraceful, or in any respect: to imply 
 intellectual imbecility ; it is a sign rather of that true wisdom, 
 which feels individual imperfection ; and is conscious to itself 
 how much collective observation is necessary to fill the immense 
 extent, and to comprehend the infinite variety, of nature. I 
 recommend neither self-dependence nor plagiarism. I advise you 
 only to take that assistance which every human being wants, and 
 which, as appears From the examples that have been given, the 
 greatest Painters have not disdained to accept. Let me add, 
 that the diligence required in the search, and the exertion subse- 
 quent in accommodating those ideas to your own purpose, is a 
 business which idleness will not, and ignorance cannot, perform. 
 But in order more distinctly to explain what kind of borrowing 
 I . mean, when I recommend so anxiously the study of the works 
 
 L 1 2 ot 
 
26o DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 of great Masters, let us for a minute return again to Raffaelle, 
 consider his method of practice, and endeavour to imitate him, in 
 his manner of imitating others. 
 
 The two figures of St. Paul which I lately mentioned, are so 
 nobly conceived by Masaccio, that perhaps it was not in the 
 power even of Raffaelle himfelf to raise and improve them, nor 
 has he attempted it ; but he has had the address to change in 
 some measure v/ithout diminishing the grandeur of their character; 
 he has substituted, in the place of a serene composed dignity, 
 that animated expression which was necessary to the more active 
 employment he has assigned them. 
 
 In the same manner he has given more animation to the figure 
 of Sergius Paulus, and to that which is introduced in the picture 
 of St. Paul preaching, of which little more than hints are given 
 by Masaccio, which Raffaelle has finished. The closing the 
 eyes of this figure, which in Masaccio might be easily mistaken 
 for sleeping, is not in the least ambiguous in the Cartoon : his 
 eyes indeed are closed, but they are closed with such vehemence, 
 that the agitation of a mind perplexed in the extreme is seen at the 
 first glance : but what is most extraordinary, and I think par- 
 ticularly to be admired, is, that the same idea is continued through 
 the whole figure, even to the drapery, which is so closely muffled 
 about him, that even his hands are not seen ; by this happy 
 correspondence between the expression of the countenance, and 
 the disposition of the parts, the figure appears to think from head 
 to foot. Men of superior talents alone are capable of thus using 
 and adapting other men's minds to their owri purposes, or are 
 able to make out and finish what was only in the original a hint 
 
 or 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 261 
 
 or imperfect conception. A readiness in taking such hints, 
 which escape the dull and ignorant, makes in my opinion no 
 inconsiderable part of that faculty of the mind which is called 
 Genius. 
 
 It often happens that hints may be taken and employed in a 
 situation totally different from that in which they were originally 
 employed. There is a figure of a Bacchante leaning backward, her 
 head thrown quite behind her, which seems to be a favourite 
 invention, as it is so frequently repeated in bas- relievos, camasos 
 and intaglios ; it is intended to express an enthusiastickfrantick 
 kind of joy. This figure Baccio Bandinelli, in a drawing that I 
 have of that Master, of the Descent from the Cross, has adopted, 
 (and he knew very well what was worth borrowing,) for one of the 
 Marys, to express frantick agony of grief. It is curious to ob- 
 serve, and it is certainly true, that the extremes of con- 
 trary passions are with very little variation expressed by the same 
 action . 
 
 If I were to recommend method in any part of the study of a 
 Painter, it would be in regard to invention ; that young Students 
 mould not presume to think themselves qualified to invent, till 
 they were acquainted with these stores of invention the world 
 already possesses, and had by that means accumulated sufficient 
 materials for the mind to work with. It would certainly be no 
 improper method of forming the mind of a young Artist, to 
 begin with such exercises ao the Italians call a Pasticcio composition 
 of the different excellencies which are dispersed in all other 
 works of the same kind. It is not supposed that he is to stop here, 
 
 but 
 
262 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 but that he is to acquire by this means the art of selecting, first what 
 is truly excellent in Art, and then what is still more excellent 
 in Nature ; a task, which, without this previous study, he will 
 be but ill qualified to perform. 
 
 The doctrine which is here advanced, is acknowledged to be 
 new, and to many may appear strange. But I only demand for 
 it the reception of a stranger ; a favourable and attentive consider- 
 ation, without that entire confidence which might be claimed un- 
 der authoritative recommendation. 
 
 After you have taken a figure, or any idea of a figure, from 
 any of those great Painters, there is another operation still remain- 
 ing, which I hold to be indispensably necessary, that is, never 
 to neglect finishing from Nature every part of the work. What 
 is taken from a model, though the firft idea may have been sug- 
 gested by another, you have a just right to consider as your own pro- 
 perty. And here I cannot avoid mentioning a circumstance in pla- 
 cing the model, though to fome it may appear trifling. It is better 
 to possess the model with the attitude you require, than to place 
 him with your own hands : by this means it happens often that 
 the model puts himself in an action superior to your own imagina- 
 tion. It is a great matter to be in the way of accident, and to 
 be watchful and ready to take advantage of it : besides; when you 
 fix the position of a model, there is danger of putting him in an 
 attitude into which no man would naturally fall. This extends 
 even to drapery. We must be cautious in touching and altering a 
 fold of the stuff, which serves as a model, for fear of giving it 
 inadvertently a forced form ; and it is perhaps better to take the 
 i chance 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 263 
 
 chance of another cafual throw, than to alter the position in which 
 it was at first accidentally casU 
 
 Rembrandt, in order to take the advantage of accident, 
 appears often to have used the pallet-knife to lay his colours on 
 the canvass, instead of the pencil. Whether it is the knife or any 
 other instrument, it suffices if it is something that does not 
 follow exactly the will. Accident in the hands of an Artist who 
 knows how to take the advantage of its hints, will often produce 
 bold and capricious beauties of handling and facility, such as he 
 would not have thought of, or ventured, with his pencil, under 
 the regular restraint of his hand. However, this is fit only on 
 occasions where no correctness of form is required, such as clouds, 
 stumps of trees, rocks, or broken ground. Works produced in. 
 an accidental manner, will have the same free unrestrained air 
 as the works of nature, whose particular combinations seem to 
 depend upon accident. 
 
 I again repeat, you are never to lose sight of nature ; the 
 instant you do, you are all abroad, at the mercy of every gust of 
 fashion, without knowing or feeing the point to which you 
 ought to steer. Whatever trips you make, you must still have 
 nature in your eye. Such deviations as art necessarily requires, I 
 hope in a future Discourse to be able to explain. In the mean 
 time, let me recommend to you, not to have too great dependance 
 on your practice or memory, however strong those impressions 
 may have been which are there deposited. They are for ever 
 wearing out, and will be at last obliterated, unkss they are 
 continually refreshed and repaired. 
 
 It 
 
264 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 It is not uncommon to meet with artists who from a long neglect 
 of cultivating this necessary intimacy with Nature, do not even know 
 her when they see her ; she appearing a stranger to them, from 
 their being so long habituated to their own representation of her. 
 I have heard Painters acknowledge, though in that acknowledg- 
 ment no degradation of themselves was intended, that they could do 
 better without Nature than with her ; or as they expressed it 
 themselves, that it only put them out. A Painter with such 
 ideas and such habits, is indeed in a most hopeless state. The art 
 of seeing Nature, or in other words, the art of using Models, is in 
 reality the great object, the point to which all our studies are 
 directed. As for the power of being able to do tolerably well, 
 from practice alone, let it be valued according to its worth. But 
 I do not see in what manner it can be sufficient for the production 
 of correct, excellent, and finished Pictures. Works deserving this 
 character never were produced, nor ever will arise, from memory 
 alone 5 and I will venture to say, that an Artist who brings to his 
 work a mind tolerably furnished with the general principles of Art, 
 and a taste formed upon the works of good Artists, in short who 
 knows in what excellence consists, will, with the assistance of 
 Models, which we will likewise suppose he has learnt the art of 
 using, be an over-match for the greatest Painter that ever lived who 
 should be debarred such advantages. 
 
 Our neighbours, the French, are much in this practice of 
 extempore invention, and their dexterity is such as even to excite 
 admiration, if not envy ; but how rarely can this praise be given to 
 their finished pictures ! 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 265 
 
 The late Director of their Academy, Boucher, was eminent in 
 this way. When I visited him fome years since, in France, I found 
 him at work on a very large Picture, without drawings or models 
 of any kind. On my remarking this particular circumstance, he 
 said, when he was young, studying his art, he found it neces- 
 sary to use models ; but he had left them off for many years. 
 
 Such Pictures as this was, and such as I fear always will be 
 produced by those who work solely from practice or memory, 
 may be a convincing proof of the necessity of the conduct which 
 I have recommended. However, in justice I cannot quit this 
 Painter without adding, that in the former part of his life, when 
 he was in the habit of having recourse to nature, he was 
 not without a considerable degree of merit, — enough to make half 
 the Painters of his country his imitators ; he had often grace 
 and beauty, and good skill in composition ; but I think, all 
 under the influence of a bad taste : his imitators are indeed 
 abominable. 
 
 Those Artists who have quitted the service of nature, (whose 
 service, when well understood, is per/eel freedom, and have put 
 themselves under the direction of I know not what capricious 
 fantastical mistress, who fascinates and overpowers their whole 
 mind, and from whose dominion there are no hopes of their being 
 ever reclaimed, (since they appear perfectly satisfied, and not at 
 all conscious of their forlorn situation,) like the transformed fol- 
 lowers of Comus, — 
 
 Not once perceive their foul disfigurement ; 
 Bat boa d themfelves more comely than before. 
 
 Vol. I. M m Methinks 
 
266 DISCOURSE XII. 
 
 Methinks, suchmen, who have foundout so short a path, have 
 no reason to complain of the shortness of life, and the extent of 
 art ; since life is so much longer than is wanted for their improve- 
 ment, or indeed is necessary for the accomplishment of their idea 
 of perfection. On the contrary, he who recurs to nature, at 
 every recurrence renews his strength. The rules of art he is never 
 likely to forget ; they are few and simple; but Nature is refined, 
 subtle, and infinitely various, beyond the power and retention of 
 memory ; it is necessary, therefore, to have continual recourse to 
 her. In this intercourse, there is no end of his improvement; 
 the longer he lives, the nearer he approaches to the true and perfect 
 idea of Art. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER u, 1786. 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 TO discover beauties, or to point out faults, in the works of 
 celebrated Masters, and to compare the conduct of one Artist 
 with another, is certainly no mean or inconsiderable part of criti- 
 cism ; but this is still no more than to know the art through the 
 Artist. This test of investigation muft have two capital defeds ; 
 it must be narrow, and it muft be uncertain. To enlarge the 
 boundaries of the Art of Painting, as well as to fix its principles, 
 it will be neceffary, that, that art, and those principles, should 
 be considered in their correspondence with the principles of the 
 other arts, which like this, addrefs themselves primarily and 
 principally to the imagination. When thofe connected and kin- 
 dred principles- are brought together to be compared, another com- 
 parifon will grow out of this ; that is, the comparifon of them 
 all with those of human nature, from whence arts derive the 
 materials upon which they are to produce their effects. 
 
 When this comparison of art with art, and of all arts with the 
 nature of man, is once made with success, our guiding lines are 
 as well ascertained and established, as they can be in matters of 
 this description. 
 
 This 
 
070 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 This, as it is the highest style of criticism, is at the same time 
 the soundest ; for it refers to the eternal and immutable nature of 
 things. 
 
 You are not to imagine that I mean to open to you at large, or to 
 recommend to your research, the whole of this vast field of science. 
 It is certainly much above my faculties to reach it ; and though it 
 may not be above yours, to comprehend it fully, if it were fully 
 and properly brought before you, yet perhaps the moft perfect 
 criticifm requires habits of speculation and abftraction, not very 
 consistent with the employment which ought to occupy, and the 
 habits of mind which ought to prevail in a practical Artift. I only 
 point out to you thefe things, that when you do criticife, (as all 
 who work on a plan, will criticife more or lefs,) your criticifm may 
 be built on the foundation of true principles; and that though you 
 may not always travel a great way, the way that you do travel, may 
 be the right road. 
 
 I observe, as a fundamental ground, common to all the Arts 
 with which we have any concern in this difcourfe, that they address 
 themselves only to two faculties of the mind, its imagination and 
 its sensibility. 
 
 All theories which attempt to direct or to control the Art, 
 upon any principles falsely called rational, which we form to our- 
 selves upon a supposition of what ought in reason to be the end or 
 means of Art, independent of the known first effect produced by 
 objects on the imagination, must be false and delusive. For 
 though it may appear bold to say it, the imagination is here the 
 
 ? residence 
 
• DISCOURSE XIIL 271 
 
 residence of truth. If the imagination be affected, the conclusion 
 is fairly drawn ; if it be not affected, the reasoning is erroneous, 
 because the end is not obtained ; the effect itself being the 
 test, and the only test, of the truth and efficr.cy of the 
 means. 
 
 There is in the commerce of life, as in Art, a sagacity which 
 is far from being contradictory to right reason, and is superior to 
 any occasional exercise of that faculty; which supersedes it; and 
 does not wait for the slow progress of deduction, but goes at once, 
 by what appears a kind of intuition, to the conclusion. A man. 
 endowed with this faculty, feels and acknowledges the truth, 
 though it is not always in his power, perhaps, to give a reason 
 for it ; because he cannot recollect and bring before him all the 
 materials that gave birth to his opinion ; for very many and very 
 intricate considerations may unite to form the principle, even of 
 small and minute parts, involved in, or dependent on, a great 
 system of things : though these in process of time are forgotten, the 
 right impression still remains fixed in his mind. 
 
 This impression is the result of the accumulated experience 
 of our whole life, and has' been collected, we do not always 
 know how, or when. But this mass of collective observation, 
 however acquired, ought to prevail over that reason, which 
 however powerfully exerted on any particular occasion, will pro- 
 bably comprehend but a partial view of the subject ; and our con- 
 duct in life as well as in the Arts, is, or ought to be, generally 
 governed by this habitual reason : it is our happiness that we are 
 
 enabled to draw on such funds. If we were obliged to enter 
 
 into 
 
272 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 into a theoretical deliberation on every occasion, before we 
 act, life would be at a stand, and Artwould be impracticable. 
 
 It appears to me therefore, that our first thoughts, that is, 
 the effect which any thing produces on our minds on its first 
 appearance, is never to be forgotten ; and it demands for that 
 reason, because it is the first, to be laid up with care. If this be 
 not done, the Artist may happen to impose on himself by partial 
 reasoning; by a cold consideration of those animated thoughts 
 which proceed, not perhaps from caprice or rashness, (as he may 
 afterwards conceit,) but from the fullness of his mind, enriched 
 with the copious stores of all the various inventions which he had 
 ever seen, or had ever passed in his mind. These ideas are 
 infused into his design, without any conscious effort ; but if he 
 be not on his guard, he may reconsider and correct them, till the 
 whole matter is reduced to a common -place invention. 
 
 This is sometimes the effect of what I mean to caution you 
 against ; that is to say, an unfounded distrust of the imagination 
 and feeling, in favour of narrow, partial, confined, argumentative 
 theories; and of principles that seem to apply to the design in 
 hand; without considering those general impreflions on the fancy in 
 which real principles of found reafon, and of much more weight 
 and importance, are involved, and, as it were, lie hid, under the ap- 
 pearance of a sort of vulgar sentiment. 
 
 Reason, without doubt, muff ultimately determine every 
 thing ; at this minute it is required to inform us when that very 
 reafon is to give way to feeling. 
 
 Though 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 273 
 
 Though I have often spoke of that mean conception of our art 
 which confines it to mere imitation, I must add, that it may be 
 narrowed to such a mere matter of experiment, as to exclude 
 from it the application of science, which alone gives dignity and 
 compass to any art. But to find proper foundations for science 
 is neither to narrow or to vulgarise it j and this is fufficiently 
 exemplified in the success of experimental philosophy. It is the 
 false system of reasoning, grounded on a partial view of things, 
 against which I would most earnestly guard you. And I do it 
 the rather, because those narrow theories, so coincident with the 
 poorest and most miserable practice, and which are adopted to 
 give it countenance, have not had their origin in the poorest minds, 
 but in the miftakes, or pofllbly in the mistaken interpretations, of 
 great and commanding authorities. We are not therefore in this 
 case misled by feeling, but by false speculation. 
 
 When such a man as Plato speaks of Painting as only an imL 
 tative art, and that our pleasure proceeds from observing and ac- 
 knowledging the truth of the imitation, I think he misleads us 
 by a partial theory. It is in this poor, partial, and so far, false, 
 view of the art, that Cardinal Bembo has chosen to distinguish 
 even Raffaelle himself, whom our enthusiasm honours with the name 
 of Divine. The same sentiment is adopted by Pope in his 
 Epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller; and he turns the panegyrick folely 
 on imitation, as it is a fort of deception. 
 
 I shall not think my time misemployed, if by any means I may 
 contribute to confirm your opinion of what ought to be the ob- 
 ject of your purfuit ; because, though the best criticks must 
 
 Vol. I. N n always 
 
274 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 always have exploded this strange idea, yet I know that-therc 
 is a disposition towards a perpetual recurrence to it, on account 
 of its simplicity and superficial plausibility. For this reason I 
 shall beg leave to lay before you a few thoughts on this subject ; 
 to throw out some hints that may lead your minds to an opinion, 
 (which I take to be the truth,) that Painting is not only not to 
 be considered as an imitation, operating by deception, but that it 
 is, and ought to be, in many points oi new, and strictly speak- 
 ing, no imitation at ail of external nature. Perhaps it ought 
 to be as far removed from the vulgar idea of imitation, as the re- 
 fined civilized state in which we live, is removed from a gross 
 state of nature ; and those who have not cultivated their imagina- 
 tions, which the majority of mankind certainly have not, may 
 be said, in regard to arts, to continue in this state of nature.. 
 Such men will always prefer imitation to that excellence which 
 is addressed to another faculty that they do not possess ; but thefe 
 are not the persons to whom a Painter is to look,, any more than 
 a judge of morals and manners ought to refer controverted points 
 upon those subjects to the opinions of people taken from the banks 
 of the Ohio, or from New Holland.. 
 
 It is the lowest style only of arts, whether of Painting, Poetry, 
 or Musick, that may be said, in the vulgar sense, to be naturally 
 pleasing. The higher efforts of thofe arts, we know by experience, 
 do not affect minds wholly uncultivated. This refined taste is the 
 consequence of education and habit ; we are born only with a ca- 
 pacity of entertaining this refinement, as we are born with a dis- 
 position to receive and obey all the rules and regulations of 
 
 society - 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 society ; and so far it may be said to be natural to us, and no 
 further. 
 
 What has been said, may (hew the artist how necessary it 
 is, when he looks about him for the advice and criticism of his 
 friends, to make some distinction of the character, taste, experience, 
 and observation in this Art, of those, from whom it is received. 
 An ignorant uneducated man may, like Apelles's critick, be a com- 
 petent judge of the truth of the representation of a sandal ; or to go 
 somewhat higher, like Moliere's old woman, may decide upon what 
 is nature, in regard to comick humour; but a critick in the higher 
 style of art, ought to possess the same refined taste, which di- 
 rected the Artist in his work. 
 
 To illustrate this principle by a comparison with other Arts, I 
 shall now produce some instances to shew, that they, as well as our 
 own Art, renounce the narrow idea of nature, and the narrow the- 
 ories derived from that mistaken principle, and apply to that reason 
 only which informs us not what imitation is, a natural representation 
 of a given object, but what it is natural for the imagination to be 
 delighted with. And perhaps there is no better way of acquiring 
 this knowledge, than by this kind of analogy : each art will 
 corroborate and mutually reflect the truth on the other. Such a 
 kind of juxtaposition may likewise have this use, that whilst the 
 Artist is amusing himself in the contemplation of other Arts, he 
 may habitually transfer the principles of those Arts to that 
 which he professes ; which ought to be always present to his mind, 
 and to which every thing is to be referred. 
 
 N n 2 So 
 
276 DISCOURSE XII T. 
 
 So far is Art from being derived from, or having any immediate 
 intercourse with, particular nature as its model, that there are 
 many Arts that set out with a professed deviation from it. 
 
 This is certainly not so exactly true in regard to Painting and 
 Sculpture. Our elements are laid in gross common nature, an 
 exact imitation of what is before us : but when we advance to 
 the higher state, we consider this power of imitation, though 
 first in the order of acquisition, as by no means the highest in the 
 scale of perfection. 
 
 Poetry addresses itself to the same faculties and the same dis- 
 positions as Painting, though by different means. The object of 
 both is to accommodate itself to all the natural propensities and 
 inclinations of the mind. The very existence of Poetry depends 
 on the licence it assumes of deviating from actual nature, in order 
 to gratify natural propensities by other means, which are found 
 by experience full as capable of affording such gratification. It 
 sets out with a language in the highest degree artificial, a con- 
 struction of measured words, such as never is, nor ever was used by 
 man. Let this measure be what it may, whether hexameter or 
 any other metre used in Latin or Greek, — or Rhyme, or blank 
 Verse varied with pauses and accents, in modern languages, — they 
 are all equally removed from nature, and equally a violation of 
 common speech. When this artificial mode has been established 
 as the vehicle of sentiment, there is another principle in the 
 human mind, to which the work must be referred, which still renders 
 it more artificial, carries it ftill further from common nature, and 
 deviates only to render it more perfect. That principle is the fenfe 
 i ' of 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 477 
 
 of congruity, coherence, and consistency, which is a real existing 
 principle in man; and it must be gratified. Therefore having once 
 adopted a style and a measure not found in common discourse, it 
 is required that the sentiments also mould be in the same 
 proportion elevated above common nature, from the necessity of 
 there being an agreement of the parts among themfelves, that one 
 uniform whole may be produced. 
 
 To correspond therefore with this general system of deviation^ 
 from nature, the manner in which poetry is offered to the ear, 
 the tone in which it is recited, should be as far removed from the 
 tone of converfation, as the words of which that Poetry is com- 
 posed. This naturally suggests the idea of modulating the voice 
 by art, which I suppose may be considered as accomplished to 
 the highest degree of excellence in the recitative of the Italian Opera ; 
 as we may conjecture it was in the chorus that attended the ancient 
 drama. And though the most violent passions, the highest distress, 
 even death itself, are expressed in singing or recitative, I would not 
 admit as sound criticism the condemnation of such exhibitions on 
 account of their being unnatural. 
 
 If it is natural for our senses, and our imaginations, to be de- 
 lighted with singing, with instrumental musick, with poetry, 
 and with graceful action, taken separately ; (none of them being 
 in the vulgar sense natural, even in that separate state ;) it is con- 
 formable to experience, and therefore agreeable to reason as con- 
 nected with and referred to experience, that we should also be 
 delighted with this union of mufick, poetry, and graceful action, 
 joined to every circumstance of pomp and magnificence calculated 
 
 to 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 to ftrike the senses of the spectator. Shall reason stand in the 
 way, and tell us we ought not to like what we know we do like, 
 and prevent us from feeling the full effect of this complicated ex- 
 ertion of art ? This is what I would understand by poets and 
 painters being allowed to dare every thing ; for what can be more 
 daring, than accomplishing the purpose and end of art, by a 
 complication of means, none of which have their archetypes in 
 actual nature ? 
 
 So far therefore is servile imitation from being necessary, that 
 whatever is familiar, or in any way reminds us of what we 
 see and hear every day, perhaps does not belong to the higher 
 provinces of art, either in poetry or painting. The mind is to 
 be transported, as Shakspeare expresses it, beyond the ignorant prefent, 
 to ages past. Another and a higher order of beings is supposed ; 
 and to those beings every thing which is introduced into the work 
 must correspond. Of this conduct, under these circumstances, 
 the Roman and Florentine schools afford sufficient examples. Their 
 style by this means is raised and elevated above all others ; and by the 
 same means the compass of art itself is enlarged. 
 
 We often see grave and great subjects attempted by artists of 
 another school ; who, though excellent in the lower class of art, 
 proceeding on the principles which regulate that class, and not 
 recollecting, or not knowing, that they were to address them- 
 selves to another faculty of the mind, have become perfectly 
 ridiculous. 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 *79 
 
 The picture which I have at present in my thoughts is a sa- 
 crifice of Iphigenia, painted by Jean Steen, a painter of whom I have 
 formerly had occasion to speak with the highest approbation ; 
 and even in this picture, the subject of which is by no means 
 adapted to his genius, there is nature and expression ; but it is such 
 expression, and the countenances are so familiar, and consequently 
 so vulgar, and the whole accompanied with such finery of silks and 
 velvet, that one would be almost tempted to doubt, whether 
 the artist did not purposely intend to burlesque his subject. 
 
 Instances of the same kind we frequently see in poetry- 
 Parts of Hobbes's translation of Homer are remembered and repeated 
 merely for the familiarity and meanness of their phraseology, so 
 ill corresponding with the ideas which ought to have been expressed, 
 and, as I conceive, with the style of the original. 
 
 We may proceed in the same manner through the comparatively 
 inferior branches of art. There are in works of that class, the 
 same distinction of a higher and a lower style; and they take their 
 rank and degree in proportion as the artist departs more, or less, 
 from common nature, and makes it an object of his attention to 
 strike the imagination of the spectator by ways belonging specially 
 to art, — unobserved and. untaught out of the school of its 
 practice. 
 
 If our judgements are to be directed by narrow, vulgar, untaught 
 or rather ill-taught reason, we must prefer a portrait by Denner or 
 any other high finisher, to those of Titian orVandyck ; and a landikip 
 
 of 
 
23o 
 
 DISCOURSE XIII 
 
 of Vanderhyde to those of Titian or Rubens ; for they are cer- 
 tainly more exact representations of nature. 
 
 If we suppose a view of nature represented with all the truth 
 of the camera obfcura, and the same scene represented by a great 
 Artist, how little and mean will the one appear in comparison of 
 the other, where no superiority is supposed from the choice of the 
 subject. The scene (hall be the same, the difference only will be 
 in the manner in which it is presented to the eye. With what 
 additional superiority then will the same Artist appear when he has 
 the power of selecting his materials, as well as elevating his style? 
 Like Nicolas Poussin, he transports us to the environs of ancient 
 Rome, with all the objects which a literary education makes so 
 precious and interesting to man : or, like Sebastian Bourdon, he 
 leads us to the dark antiquity of the Pyramids of Egypt ; or, like 
 Claude Lorrain, he conducts us to the tranquillity of Arcadian 
 scenes and fairy land. 
 
 Like the history-painter, a painter of landfkips in this style and 
 with this conduct, sends the imagination back into antiquity ; 
 and, like the Poet, he makes the elements sympathise with his 
 subject : whether the clouds roll in volumes like those of Titian or 
 Salvator Rosa, — or, like those of Claude, are gilded with the setting 
 sun ; whether the mountains have sudden and bold projections, or 
 are gently sloped ; whether the branches of his trees moot out ab- 
 ruptly in right angles from their trunks, or follow each other with 
 only a gentle inclination. All these circumftances contribute to 
 the general character of the work, whether it be of the elegant, or 
 of the more sublime kind. If we add to this the powerful mate- 
 
 terials 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 281 
 
 rials of liehtness and darkness, over which the Artist has com- 
 plete dominion, to vary and dispose them as he pleases ; to diminish, 
 or increase them as will best suit his purpose, and correspond to 
 the general idea of his work : alandfkip thus conducted, under the 
 influence of a poetical mind, will have the same superiority over the 
 more ordinary and common views, as Milton's Allegro and Pen- 
 ferofo have over a cold prosaick narration or description ; and 
 such a picture would make a-more forcible impression on the mind 
 than the real scenes, were they presented before us. 
 
 If we look abroad to other Arts, we may observe the same 
 distinction, the same division into two classes, each of them act- 
 ing under the influence of two different principles, in which the 
 one follows nature, the other varies it, and sometimes departs 
 from it. 
 
 The Theatre, which is said to hold the mirrour up to nature, com- 
 prehends both those ideas. The lower kind of Comedy, or 
 Farce, like the inferior style of Painting, the more naturally it is 
 represented, the better ; but the higher appears to me to aim no 
 more at imitation, so far as it belongs to any thing like deception, 
 or to expect: that the spectators should think that the events there re- 
 presented are really passing before them, than Raffaelle in his 
 Cartoons, or Poussin in his Sacraments, expected it to be believed, 
 even for a moment, that what they exhibited were real figures. 
 
 For want of this distinction, the world is filled with false criti- 
 cism. Raffaelle is praised for naturalness and deception, which he 
 certainly has not accomplished, and as certainly never intended ; 
 
 Vol. II. O o and 
 
^32 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 and our late great actor, Garrick, has been as ignorantly praised by 
 his friend Fielding ; who doubtless imagined he had hit upon an 
 ingenious device, by introducing in one of his novels, (otherwise 
 a work of the highest merit,) an ignorant man, mistaking Gar- 
 rick's representation of a scene in Hamlet, for reality. A very 
 little reflection will convince us, that there is not one circumstance 
 in the whole scene that is of the nature of deception. The merit 
 and excellence of Shakspeare, and of Garrick, when they were 
 engaged in such scenes, is of a different and much higher kind. 
 But what adds to the falsity of this intended compliment, is, that 
 the best stage-representation appears even more unnatural to a per- 
 son of such a character, who is supposed never to have seen a play 
 before, than it does to those who have had a habit of allowing for 
 those necessary deviations frojn nature which the Art requires. 
 
 In theatrick representation, great allowances must always be made 
 for the place in which the exhibition is represented j for the sur- 
 rounding company, the lighted candles, the scenes visibly shifted 
 in your sight, and the language of blank verse, so different 
 from common English ; which merely as English must appear 
 surprising in the mouths of Hamlet, and all the court and natives 
 of Denmark. These allowances are made ; but their being made 
 puts an end to all manner of deception : and further ; we know 
 that the more low, illiterate, and vulgar any person is, the less ho 
 will be disposed to make these allowances, and of course to be 
 deceived by any imitation j the things in which the trespass against 
 nature and common probability is made in favour of the theatre, 
 being quite within the sphere of such uninformed men. 
 
 Though 
 
DISCOURSE XIII, 283 
 
 Though I have no intention of entering into all the circum- 
 stances of unnaturalness in theatrical representations, I must observe, 
 that even the expression of violent passion, is not always the most 
 excellent in proportion as it is the most natural: so great terror 
 and fuch disagreeable sensations may be communicated to the audi- 
 ence, that the balance may be destroyed by which pleasure is pre- 
 served, and holds its predominancy in the mind : violent distor- 
 tion of action, harsh screamings of the voice, however great the 
 occasion, or however natural on such occasion, are therefore not 
 admissible in the theatrick art. Many of these allowed deviations 
 from nature arise from the necessity which there is, that every 
 thing should be raised and enlarged beyond its natural state ; that 
 the full effect may come home to the spectator, which otherwise 
 would be lost in the comparatively extensive space of the Theatre. 
 Hence the deliberate and stately step, the studied grace of action, 
 which seems to enlarge the dimensions of the Actor, and alone to 
 fill the stage. All this unnaturalness, though right and proper in 
 its place, would appear affected and ridiculous in a private room ; 
 quid enim deform/us, quam scenam in vitam transfer re ? 
 
 And here I must observe, and I believe it may be considered as 
 a general rule, that no Art can be engrafted with success on ano- 
 ther art. For though they all profess the same origin, and to pro- 
 ceed from the same stock, yet each has its own peculiar modes 
 both of imitating nature, and of deviating from it, each for the 
 accomplishment of its own particular purpose. These deviations, 
 more especially, will not bear transplantation to another soil. 
 
 O o 2 
 
 If 
 
aB,4 DISCOURSE XIII 
 
 If a Painter should endeavour to copy the theatrical pomp and 
 parade of drefs and attitude, instead of that simplicity, which is 
 not a greater beauty in life, than it is in Painting, we should con- 
 demn such Pictures as painted in the meanest style. 
 
 So also Gardening, as far as Gardening is an Art, or entitled to 
 that appellation, is a deviation from nature ; for if the true taste con- 
 sists, as many hold, in banishing every appearance of Art, or 
 any traces of the footsteps of man, it would then be no longer a 
 Garden. Even though we define it, " Nature to advantage 
 dress'd," and in some sense it is such, and much more beautiful 
 and commodious for the recreation of man j it is however, when 
 so dress'd, no longer a subject for the pencil of a Landskip-Pain- 
 ter, as all Landskip-Painters know, who love to have recourse to 
 Nature herself, and to dress her according to the principles of 
 their own Art which are far different from those of Gardening, 
 even when condu6ted according to the most approved principles, 
 and such as a Landskip-Painter himself would adopt in the disposi- 
 tion of his own grounds, for his own private satisfaction. 
 
 I have brought together as many instances as appear necessary, 
 to make out the several points which I wished to suggest to your 
 consideration in this Discourse ; that your own thoughts may lead 
 you further in the use that may be made of the analogy of the 
 Arts, and of the restraint which a full understanding of the diversi- 
 ty of many of their principles ought to impose on the employment 
 ,of that analogy. 
 
 The 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 285 
 
 The great end of all those arts is, to make an impression on 
 the imagination and the feeling. The imitation of nature frequent- 
 ly does this. Sometimes it fails, and something else succeeds. I 
 think therefore the true test of all the arts, is not solely whether 
 the production is a true copy of nature, but whether it answers the 
 end of art, which is to produce a pleasing effect upon the mind. 
 
 It remains only to speak a few words of Architecture, which 
 does not come under the denomination of an imitative art. It ap- 
 plies itself, like Musick (and I believe we may add Poetry,) di- 
 rectly to the imagination, without the intervention of any kind of 
 imitation. 
 
 TirERE is in Architecture, as in Painting, an inferior branchof 
 art, in which the imagination appears to have no concern. It does 
 not however acquire the name of a polite and liberal art, from its 
 usefulness, or administering to our wants or necessities, but from 
 some higher principle : we are sure that in the hands of a man of 
 genius it is capable of inspiring sentiment, and of filling the mind 
 with great and sublime ideas. 
 
 It may be worth the attention of Artists, to consider what ma- 
 terials are in their hands, that may contribute to this end ; and 
 whether this art has it not in its power to address itself to the ima- 
 gination with effect, by more ways than are generally employed 
 by Architects. 
 
 To pass over the effect produced by that general symmetry and 
 proportion, by which the eye is delighted, as the ear is with mu- 
 sick, 
 
286 DISCOURSE XIIT. 
 
 sick, Architecture certainly possesses many principles in common 
 with Poetry and Painting. Among those which may be reck- 
 oned as the first, is, that of affecting the imagination by 
 means of association of ideas. Thus, for instance, as we 
 have naturally a veneration for antiquity, whatever building 
 brings to our remembrance ancient customs and manners, such, 
 as the Caftles of the Barons of ancient Chivalry, is sure to give 
 this delight. Hence it is that towers and battle??ie?its * are so 
 often selected-by the Painter and the Poet,, to make a part of the 
 composition of their ideal Landskip ; and it is from hence in 
 a great degree, that in the buildings of Vanbrugh, who was* 
 a Poet as well as an Architect, there is a greater display of 
 imagination,, than we shall find perhaps in any other y and 
 this is the ground of the effect which we feel in many of his 
 works, notwithstanding the faults with which many of them are 
 justly charged. For this purpose, Vanbrugh appears to have 
 had recourse to some principles, of the Gothick Architecture y 
 which, though not so ancient as the Grecian, is more so to our 
 imagination, with which the Artist is more concerned than with 
 absolute truth. 
 
 The Barbarick splendour of thofe Asiatick Buildings, which 
 are now publishing by a member of this Academy -f-, may pos- 
 sibly, in the fame manner, furnifh an Architect, not with mo- 
 dels to copy, but with hints of composition and general effect, 
 which would not otherwife have occurred. 
 
 It 
 
 * Towers and' Battlements it fees 
 
 Bofom'd. high in tufted trees. Milton. L'allegro. 
 + Mr. Hod&es. 
 
PISCOURSE XIII. 287 
 
 It is, I know, a delicate and hazardous thing, (and as 
 fuch I have already pointed it out,) to carry the principles 
 of one art to another, or even to reconcile in one object the 
 various modes of the fame Art, when they proceed on differ- 
 ent principles. The found rules of the Grecian Architecture 
 arc not to be lightly sacrificed. A deviation from them, or 
 even an addition to them, is like a deviation or addition to, 
 or from, the rules of other Arts, fit only for a great master, 
 who is thoroughly conversant in the nature of man, as well 
 as all combinations in his own Art. 
 
 It may not be amiss for the Architect to take advantage 
 Jometimes of that to which I am sure the Painter ought always 
 to have his eyes open, I mean the use of accidents ; to follow 
 when they lead, and to improve them, rather than always to 
 trust to a regular plan. It often happens that additions have 
 been made to houses, at various times, for use or pleasure. 
 As such buildings depart from regularity, they now and then 
 acquire something of scenery by this accident, which I should 
 think might not unsuccessfully be adopted by an Architect:, 
 in an original plan, if it does not too much interfere with con- 
 venience. Variety and intricacy is a beauty and excellence in 
 every other of the Arts which address the imaginations and 
 why not in Architecture ? 
 
 The forms and turnings of the streets of London, and other 
 old towns, are produced by accident, without any original 
 plan or design ; but they are not always the less pleasant to 
 the walker or spectator, on that account. On the contrary,; 
 
-288 DISCOURSE XIII. 
 
 if the city had been built on the regular plan of Sir Christopher 
 Wren, the effect might have been, as we know it is in some 
 new parts of the town, rather unpleasing; the uniformity 
 might have produced weariness, and a slight degree of disgust. 
 
 I can pretend to no skill in the detail of Architecture. I 
 judge now of the art, merely as a Painter. When I speak 
 of Vnabrugh, I mean to speak of him in the language of 
 our art. To speak then of Vanbrugh in the language of a 
 Painter, he had originality of invention, he understood light 
 and shadow, and had great skill in composition. To support his 
 principal object, he produced his second and third groups or 
 masses ; he perfectly understood in Ms Art what is the most 
 difficult in ours, the conduct of the back-ground, by which 
 the design and invention is set off to the greatest advantage. 
 What the back-ground is in Painting, in Architecture is the 
 real ground on which the building is erected ; and no Archi- 
 tect took greater care than he that his work should not ap- 
 pear crude and hard : that is, it did not abruptly start out 
 of the ground without expectation or preparation. 
 
 This is a tribute, which a Painter owes to an Architect 
 who compofed like a Painter ; and was defrauded of the due 
 reward of his merit by the Wits of his time, who did not un* 
 derstand the principles of composition in poetry better than he ; 
 and who knew little, or nothing, of what he understood perfectly, 
 the general ruling principles of Architecture and Painting. His 
 fate was that of the great Perrault ; both were the objects of the 
 petulant sarcasms of factious men of letters ; and both have left 
 
 some 
 
DISCOURSE XIII. 289 
 
 some of the fairest ornaments which to this day decorate their 
 several countries ; the facade of the Louvre, Blenheim, and 
 castle Howard. 
 
 Upon the whole, it seems to me, that the object and intention 
 of all the Arts is to supply the natural imperfection of things, 
 and often to gratify the mind by realising and embodying 
 what never existed but in the imagination. 
 
 It is allowed on all hands, that facts, and events, however 
 they may bind the Historian, have no dominion over the 
 Poet or the Painter. With us, History is made to bend and 
 conform to this great idea of Art. And why ? Because these 
 Arts, in their highest province, are not addressed to the gross 
 senses, but to the desires of the mind, to that spark of divi- 
 nity which we have within, impatient of being circum- 
 scribed and pent up by the world which is about us. Just so 
 much as our Art has of this, just so much of dignity, I 
 had almost said of divinity, it exhibits j and thofe of our 
 Artists who possessed this mark of distinction in the highest 
 degree, acquired from thence the glorious appellation of Divine. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10, 178?, 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 IN the study of our Art, as in the study of all Arts, some- 
 thing is the result of our own observation of Nature ; some- 
 thing, and that not little, the effect of the example of those 
 who have studied the same nature before us, and who have 
 cultivated before us the same Art, with diligence and success. 
 The less we confine ourselves in the choice of those examples, 
 the more advantage we shall derive from them ; and the nearer 
 we shall bring our performances to a correspondence with 
 nature and the great general rules of Art. When we draw 
 our examples from remote and revered antiquity, — with some 
 advantage undoubtedly in that selection, we subject ourselves 
 to some inconveniences. We may suffer ourselves to be too 
 much led away by great names, and to be too much subdued 
 by overbearing authority. Our learning, in that case, is not 
 so much an exercise of our judgment, as a proof of our do- 
 cility. We find ourselves, perhaps, too much overshadowed ; 
 and the character of our pursuits is rather distinguished by 
 the tameness of the follower, than animated by the spirit of 
 emulation. It is sometimes of service, that our examples should 
 be near us ; and such as raise a reverence, sufficient to induce 
 
 us 
 
ig4 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 us carefully to observe them, yet not so great as to prevent 
 us from engaging with them in something like a generous con- 
 tention. 
 
 We have lately lost Mr. Gainsborough, one of the great- 
 est ornaments of our Academy. It is not our business here, 
 to make panegyricks on the living, or even on the dead who 
 were of our body. The praise of the former might bear the 
 appearance of adulation ; and the latter, of untimely justice ; 
 perhaps of envy to those whom we have still the happiness 
 to enjoy, by an oblique suggestion of invidious comparisons. 
 In discoursing therefore on the talents of the late Mr. Gainsbo- 
 rough, my object is, not so much to praise or to blame him, 
 as to draw from his excellencies and defects, matter of instruc- 
 tion to the Students in our academy. If ever this -nation 
 should produce genius sufficient to acquire to us the honour- 
 able distinction of an English School, the name of Gainsbo- 
 rough will be transmitted to posterity, in the history of the 
 Art, among the very first of that rifing name. That our re- 
 putation in the Arts is now only riling, must be acknowedged 
 and we must expect cur advances to be attended with old pre- 
 judices, as adversaries, and not as supporters j standing in this 
 respect in a very different situation from the late artists of the 
 Roman School, to whose reputation ancient prejudices have cer- 
 tainly contributed : the way was prepared for them, and they 
 may be said rather to have lived in the reputation of their coun- 
 try, than to have contributed to it ; whilst whatever celebrity 
 is obtained by English Artists, can arise only from the ope- 
 ration of a fair and true comparison.. And when they com- 
 municate 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. i 9S 
 
 municate to their country a share of their reputation, it is a 
 portion of fame not borrowed from others, but solely acqui- 
 red by their own labour and talents. As Italy has undoubtedly 
 a prescriptive right to an admiration bordering on prejudice, 
 as a soil peculiarly adapted, congenial, and, we may add, des- 
 tined to the production of men of great genius in our Art, we 
 may not unreasonably suspect that a portion of the great fame 
 of some of their late artists has been owing to the general readi- 
 ness and disposition of mankind, to acquiefce in their original 
 prepossessions in favour of the productions of the Roman School. 
 
 On this ground, however unsafe, I will venture to prophecy, 
 that two of the last distinguished Painters of that country, I 
 mean Pompeio Battoni, and Raffaelle Mengs, however great 
 their names may at present sound in our ears, will very soon 
 fall into the rank of Imperiale, Sebastian Concha, Placido 
 Constanza, Massuccio, and the rest of their immediate prede- 
 cessors ; whose names, though equally renowned in their life- 
 time, are now fallen into what is little short of total oblivion. 
 I do not say that those painters were not superior to the artist I 
 allude to, and whose loss we lament, in a certain routine of 
 practice, which, to the eyes of common observers, has the air 
 of a learned composition, and bears a sort of superficial resem- 
 blance to the manner of the great men who went before them. 
 I know this perfectly well ; but I know likewise, that a man,, 
 looking for real and lasting reputation, must unlearn much 
 of the common-place method fo obfervable in the works of the 
 artists whom I have named. For my own part, I confess, I 
 take more interest in, and am more captivated with, the pow- 
 i erful 
 
2 9 6 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 erful impreffion of nature, which Gainiborough exhibited in liis 
 portraits and in his landfkips, and the interesting simplicity 
 and elegance of his little ordinary beggar-children, than with any 
 of the works of that School, since the time of Andrea Sacchi, or 
 perhaps, we may say Carlo Maratti ; two painters who may tru- 
 ly be said to be Ultjmi Romanorum. 
 
 I am well aware how much I lay myfelf open to the censure 
 and ridicule of the academical professors of other nations, in 
 preferring the humble attempts of Gainiborough to the works 
 of those regular graduates in the great hiftorical ftyle. But 
 we have the sanction of all mankind in preferring genius 
 in a lower rank of art, to feeblenefs and infipidity in the 
 higheft. 
 
 It would not be to the present purpose, even if I had the means 
 and materials, which I have not, to enter into the private life 
 of Mr. Gainsborough. The hiftory of his gradual advancement, 
 and the means by which he acquired such excellence in his art, 
 would come nearer to our purpose and wifhes, if it were by any 
 means attainable but the flow progrefs of advancement is in gene- 
 ral imperceptible to the man himfelf who makes it j it is the 
 consequence of an accumulation of various ideas which his mind 
 has received, he does not perhaps know how or when. Some- 
 times indeed it happens, that he may be able to mark the time 
 when, from the fight of a picture, a paffage in an author, or a hint 
 in conversation, he has received, as it were, some new and guiding 
 light, something like infpiration, by which his mind has been 
 expanded ; and is morally sure that his whole life and conduct has 
 
 been 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 297 
 
 been affected by that accidental circumstance. Such interesting 
 accounts we may however sometimes obtain from a man who 
 has acquired an uncommon habit of self-examination, and has at- 
 tended to the progress of his own improvement. 
 
 It may not be improper to make mention of some of the cus- 
 toms and habits of this extraordinary man ; points which come 
 more within the reach of an observer ; I however mean such only 
 as are connected with his art, and indeed were, as I apprehend, 
 the causes of his arriving to that high degree of excellence, which 
 we see and acknowledge in his works. Of these causes we must 
 state, as the fundamental, the love which he had to his art ; to 
 which, indeed, his whole mind appears to have been devoted, 
 and to which every thing was referred ; and this we may fairly 
 conclude from various circumstances of his life, which were known 
 to his intimate friends. Among others he had a habit of continu- 
 ally remarking to those who happened to be about him, whatever 
 peculiarity of countenance, whatever accidental combination of 
 figures, or happy effects of light and shadow, occurred in prospects, 
 in the sky, in walking the flreets, or in company. If, in his 
 walks, he found a character that he liked, and whose attendance 
 was to be obtained, he ordered him to his house : and from the 
 fields he brought into his painting-room, stumps of trees, weeds, 
 and animals of various kinds ; and designed them, not from me- 
 mory, but immediately from the objects. He even framed a 
 kind of model of landskips, on his table ; composed of broken 
 stones, dried herbs, and pieces of looking glass, which he mag- 
 nified and improved into rocks, trees, and water. How far this 
 Utter practice may be useful in giving hints, the professors of 
 
 Vol. I. Qjn landskip 
 
298 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 landskip can best determine. Like every other technical practice 
 it seems to me wholly to depend on the general talent of him who 
 uses it. Such methods may be nothing better than contemptible 
 and mischievous trifling ; or they may be aids. I think upon the 
 whole, unless we constantly refer to real nature, that practice may 
 be more likely to do harm than good. I mention it only, as it 
 shews the solicitude and extreme activity which he had about 
 every thing that related to his art ; that he wished to have his 
 objects embodied as it were, and distinctly before him ; that he 
 neglected nothing which could keep his faculties in exercise, and 
 derived hints from every sort of combination. 
 
 We must not forget whilst we are on this subject, to make some 
 remarks on his custom of painting by night, which confirms 
 what I have already mentioned, his great affection to his art ; 
 since he could not amuse himself in the evenings by any other means 
 so apreeable to himself. I am indeed much inclined to believe 
 that it is a practice very advantageous and improving to an artist ; 
 for by this means he will acquire a new and a higher perception 
 of what is great and beautiful in Nature. By candle-light, not 
 only objects appear more beautiful, but from their being in a greater 
 breadth of light and shadow, as well as having a greater breadth 
 and uniformity of colour, nature appears in a higher style; and 
 even the flefh seems to take a higher and richer tone of colour. 
 Judgment is to direct us in the use to be made of this method of 
 study ; but the method itself is, I am very sure, advantageous. 
 I have oftened imagined that the two great colourists, Titian and 
 Correggio, though I do not know that they painted by night, 
 formed their high ideas of colouring from the effects of objects by this 
 6 artificial 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. i 99 
 
 artificial light : but I am more assured, that whoever attentively 
 studies the first and best manner of Guercino, will be con- 
 vinced that he either painted by this light, or formed his manner 
 on this conception. 
 
 Another practice Gainsborough had, which is worth men- 
 tioning as it is certainly worthy of imitation j I mean his manner 
 of forming all the parts of his picture together ; the whole going 
 on at the same time, in the same manner as nature creates her 
 works. Though this method is not uncommon to those who 
 have been regularly educated, yet probably it wasfuggested to him 
 •by his own natural fagacity. That this custom is not universal 
 appears from the practice of a painter whom I have just men- 
 tioned, Pompeio Batoni, who finished his historical pictures 
 part after part; and in his portraits completely finished one 
 feature before he proceeded to another. The consequence was, 
 as might be expected; the countenance was never well expressed ; 
 and, as the painters say, the whole was not well put together. 
 
 The firrt thing required to excel in our art, or I believe in 
 my art, is, not only a love for it, but even an enthusiaftick am- 
 bition to excel in it. This never fails of success proportioned to the 
 natural abilities with which the artist has been endowed by Pro- 
 vidence. Of Gainsborough, we certainly know, that his pas- 
 sion was not the acquirement of riches, but excellence in his art ; 
 and to enjoy that honourable fame which is sure to attend it. — 
 That he felt this riding passion firong in death, I am myself a witness. 
 A few days before he died, he wrote me a letter, to express his ac- 
 knowledgements for the good opinion I entertained of his abilities, 
 
 Q^q 2 and 
 
5$o DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 and the manner in which (he had been informed) I always spoke 
 ©f him ; and desired he might see me, once more, before he died. 
 I am aware how flattering it is to myself to be thus connected with 
 the dying testimony which this excellent painter bore to. his art. 
 But I cannot prevail on myself to suppress that I was not con- 
 nected with him by. any habits of familiarity ; if any little jea- 
 lousies had subsisted between us, they were forgotten, in those 
 moments of sincerity; and he turned towards me as one, who was 
 engrossed by the same pursuits, and who deserved his good opinion, 
 by being sensible of his excellence. Without entering into a 
 detail of what passed at this last interview, the impression of it 
 upon my mind was, that his regret at losing life, was principally 
 the regret of leaving his art; and more especially as he now began, 
 he said, to see what his deficiencies were ; which, he said, he 
 Mattered himself in his last works were in some measure supplied. 
 
 When such a man as Gainsborough arrives to great fame, with- 
 out the assistance of an academical education,, without travelling 
 to Italy, or any of those preparatory studies which have been so 
 often recommended, he is produced as an instance, how little 
 such studies are necessary ; since so great excellence may be ac- 
 quired without them. This is an inference not warranted by the 
 success of any individual ; and I trust it will not be thought that 
 I wish to make, this use of it. 
 
 It must be remembered that the style and department of art 
 which Gainsborough chose, and in which he so much excelled, 
 did not require that he should go out of his own country for the 
 objects of his study ; they were every where about him ; he found 
 
 then) 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 301 
 
 them in the streets, and in the fields; and from the models thus 
 accidentally found, he selected with great judgment such as suited 
 his purpose. As his studies were directed to the living world 
 principally, he did not pay a general attention to the works of 
 the various masters, though they are, in my opinion, always of 
 great use, even when the character of our subject requires us 
 to depart from some of their principles. It cannot be denied, that 
 excellence in the department of the art which he professed may 
 exist without them ; that in such subjects, and in the manner 
 that belongs to them, the want of them is supplied, and more than 
 supplied, by natural sagacity, and a minute observation of parti- 
 cular nature. If Gainsborough did not look at nature with a po- 
 et's eye, it must be acknowledged that he saw her with the eye of 
 a painter ; and gave a faithful , if not a poetical, representation of 
 what he had before him. 
 
 Though he did not much attend to the works of the great 
 historical painters of former ages, yet he was well aware, that the 
 language of the art, the art of imitation, must be learned some- 
 where ; and as he knew that he could not learn it in an equal de- 
 gree from his contemporaries, he very judiciously applied himself 
 to the Flemish School, who are undoubtedly the greatest mas- 
 ters of one necessary branch of art ; and he did not need to go 
 out of his own country for examples of that school : from that he 
 learnt the harmony of colouring, the management and disposition 
 of light and fhadow, and every means which the masters of it 
 practised, to ornament and give splendour to their works. And 
 to satisfy himself as well as others, how well he knew the me - 
 chanism and artifice which they employed to bring out that tone 
 
 of 
 
50i DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 of colour which we so much admire in their works, he occasi** 
 onally made copies from Rubens, Teniers, and Vandyck, which 
 it would be no disgrace to the most accurate connoisseur to mis- 
 take, at the first sight, for the works of those masters. What 
 he thus learned, he applied to the originals of nature, which he 
 saw with his own eyes ; and imitated, not in the manner of those 
 masters, but in his own. 
 
 Whether he most excelled in portraits, landlkips, or fancy- 
 pictures, it is difficult to determine : whether his portraits were 
 most admirable for exact truth of resemblance, or his landfkips 
 for a portrait-like representation of nature, such as we see in the 
 works of Rubens, Rysdale, and others of those Schools. In his 
 fancy-pictures, when he had fixed on his object of imitation, 
 whether it was the mean and vulgar form of a wood-cutter, or a 
 child of an interesting character, as he did not attempt to raise 
 the one, so neither did he lose any of the natural grace and ele- 
 gance of the other ; such a grace, and such an elegance, as are 
 more frequently found in cottages than in courts. This excellence 
 was his own, the result of his particular observation and taste .; 
 for this he was certainly not indebted to the Flemish School, nor 
 indeed to any School ; for his grace was not academical, or antique, 
 but selected by himself from the great school of nature ; and 
 there are yet a thousand modes of grace, which are nei- 
 ther theirs, nor his, but lie open in the multiplied scenes 
 and figures of life, to be brought out by skilful and faithful 
 observers. 
 
 Upon* 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 303 
 
 Upon the whole, we may justly say, that whatever he attempt- 
 ed he carried to a high degree of excellence. It is to the credit 
 of his good sense and judgment that he never did attempt that style 
 of historical painting, for which his previous studies had made no 
 preparation. 
 
 And here it naturally occurs to oppose the sensible conduct of 
 Gainsborough in this respect, to that of our late excellent Hogarth, 
 who, with all his extraordinary talents, was not blessed with 
 this knowledge of his own deficiency ; or of the bounds which 
 were set to the extent of his own powers. After this admirable 
 artist had spent the greatest part of his life in an active, busy, 
 and we may add, successful attention to the ridicule of life ; 
 after he had invented a new species of dramatick painting, in 
 which probably he will never be equalled, and had stored his 
 mind with infinite materials to explain and illustrate the 
 domestick and familiar scenes of common life, which were gene- 
 rally, and ought to have been always, the subject of his pencil; 
 he very imprudently, or rather presumptuously, attempted the 
 great historical style, for which his previous habits had by no 
 means prepared him : he was indeed so entirely unacquainted with 
 the principles of this style, that he was not even aware, that 
 any artificial preparation was at all necessary. It is to be re- 
 gretted, that any part of the life of such a genius should be 
 fruitlesly employed. Let his failure teach us not to indulge 
 ourselves in the vain imagination, that by a momentary resolution 
 we can give either dexterity to the hand, or a new habit to the 
 mind. 
 
 I HAVE, 
 
 V 
 
304 DISCOURSE XIV, 
 
 I have, however, little doubt, but that the same sagacity., 
 which enabled those two extraordinary men to discover their true 
 object, and the peculiar excellence of that branch of art which 
 they cultivated, would have been equally effectual in discovering 
 the principles of the higher ftyle ; if they had investigated those 
 principles with the same eager industry, which they exerted in 
 their own department. As Gainsborough never attempted the 
 heroick style, so neither did he destroy the character and uniformity 
 of his own style, by the idle affectation of introducing my tholo- 
 gical learning in any of his pictures. Of this boyish folly we see 
 instances enough, even in the works of great. painters . When 
 the Dutch School attempt this poetry of our art in their landskips, 
 their performances are beneath criticism ; they become only an 
 object of laughter. This practice is hardly excusable, even in 
 Claude Lorrain, who had shewn more discretion, if he had never 
 meddled with such subjects. 
 
 Our late ingenious academician, 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 pre- 
 pared to receive such personages. His landskips were in reality 
 too near common nature to admit supernatural objects. In con- 
 sequence of this mistake, in a very admirable picture of a storm, 
 which I have seen of his hand, many figures are introduced in 
 the fore-ground, some in apparent distress, and some struck 
 dead, as a spectator would naturally suppose, by the lightning ; 
 had not the painter, injudiciously (as I think) rather chosen that 
 their death should be imputed to a little Apollo, who appears in 
 the sky, with his bent bow, and that those figures should be con- 
 siUered as the children of Niobe. 
 
 To 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 30; 
 
 To manage a subject of this kind, a peculiar style of art is re- 
 quired ; and it can only be done without impropriety> or even 
 without ridicule, when we adapt the character of the landskip, 
 and that too, in all its parts, to the historical or poetical repre^ 
 sentation. This is a very difficult adventure, and it requires a 
 mind thrown back two thousand years, and as it were natura- 
 lized in antiquity, like that of Nicolo Poussin, to atchieve it, 
 In the picture alluded to, the first idea that presents itself, is 
 that of wonder, at seeing a figure in so uncommon a situation as 
 that in which the Apollo is placed ; for the clouds on which he 
 kneels, have not the appearance of being able to support him ; 
 they have neither the substance nor the form, fit for the recepta- 
 cle of a human figure ; and they do not possess in any respect 
 that romantick character which is appropriated to such a 
 subject, and which alone can harmonize with poetical ftories. 
 
 It appears to me, that sucJi conduct is no less absurd than if 
 a plain man, giving a relation of a real distress, occasioned by an 
 inundation accompanied with thunder and lightning, should, 
 instead of simply relating the event, take it into his head, in 
 order to give a grace to his narration, to talk of Jupiter Pluvius, 
 or Jupiter and his thunder-bolts, or any other figurative idea 1 
 an intermixture which, though in poetry, with its proper pre- 
 parations and accompaniments, it might be managed with effect, 
 yet in the instance before us would counteract; the purpose of the 
 narrator, and instead of being interesting, would be only ridiculous. 
 
 The Dutch and Flemish style of landskip, not even excepting 
 those of Rubens, is unfit for poetical subjects; but to explain in 
 Vol. I. R r what 
 
3 o6 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 what this inaptitude consists, or to point out all the circumstances 
 that give nobleness, grandeur, and thepoetick character, to style, 
 in landskip, would require a long discourse of itself ; and the 
 end would be then perhaps but imperfectly attained. The painter 
 who is ambitious of this perilous excellence, must catch his in- 
 spiration from those who have cultivated with success the poetry, 
 as it may be called, of the art ; and they are few indeed. 
 
 I cannot quit this subject without mentioning two examples 
 which occur to me at present, in which the poetical style of land- 
 skip may be seen happily executed ; the one is Jacob's dream by 
 Salvator Rosa, and the other the return of the Arc from captivity, 
 by Sebastian Bourdon. With whatever dignity those histories 
 are presented to us in the language of Scripture, this style of 
 painting possesses the same power of inspiring sentiments of gran- 
 deur and sublimity, and is able to communicate them to subjects 
 which appear by no means adapted to receive them. A ladder 
 against the sky has no very promising appearance of possessing 
 a capacity to excite any heroick ideas ; and the Arc, in the hands 
 of a second-rate master, would have little more effect than a 
 common waggon on the highway ; yet those subjects are so 
 poetically treated throughout, the parts have such a correspondence 
 with each other, and the whole and every part of the scene is so 
 visionary, that it is impossible to look at them, without feeling, 
 in some measure, the enthusiasm which seems to have inspired 
 the painters. 
 
 By continual contemplation of such works, a sense of the 
 higher excellencies of art will by degrees dawn on the imagination ; 
 
 at 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 3 o 7 
 
 at every review that sense will become more and more assured, 
 until we come to enjoy a sober certainty of the real existence (if 
 I may so express myself) of those almost ideal beauties; and the 
 artist will then find no difficulty in fixing in his mind the prin- 
 ciples by which the impression is produced; which he will feel, 
 and practice, though they are perhaps too delicate and refined, 
 and too peculiar to the imitative art, to be conveyed to the mind 
 by any other means. 
 
 To return to Gainsborough: the peculiarity of his manner, 
 -or style, or we may call it — the language in which he expressed 
 his ideas, has been considered by many, as his greatest defect. But 
 without altogether wishing to enter into the discussion whether 
 this peculiarity was a defect or not, intermixed, as it was, with 
 great beauties, of some of which it was probably the cause, it 
 becomes a proper subject of criticism and enquiry to a painter. 
 
 A novelty and peculiarity of manner, as it is often a cause 
 of our approbation, so likewise it is often a ground of censure ; 
 as being contrary to the practice of other painters, in whose man- 
 ner we have been initiated, and in whose favour we have perhaps 
 been prepossessed from our infancy; for, fond as we are of novelty, 
 we are upon the whole creatures of habit. However, it is certain, 
 that all those odd scratches and marks, which, on a close ex- 
 amination, are so observable in Gainsborough's pictures, and 
 which even to experienced painters appear rather the effect of 
 accident than design; this chaos, this uncouth and shapeless ap- 
 pearance, by a kind of magick, at a certain distance assumes 
 form, and all the parts seem to drop into their proper places ; so 
 
 R r 2 tha! 
 
jo« DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 that we can hardly refuse acknowledging the full effect of diligence, 
 under the appearance of chance and hasty negligence. That Gains- 
 borough himself considered this peculiarity in his manner and 
 the power it possesses of exciting surprise, as a beauty in his works, 
 I think may be inferred from the eager desire which we know 
 he always expressed, that his pictures, at the Exhibition, should 
 be seen near, as well as at a distance. 
 
 The slighiness which we see in his best works, cannot always 
 be imputed to negligence. However they may appear to super- 
 ficial observers, painters know very well that a steady attention 
 to the general effect, takes up more time, and is much more labo- 
 rious to the mind, than any mode of high finishing or smooth- 
 ness, without such attention. His handling, the manner of leaving 
 the colours, or in other words, the methods he used for producing 
 the effect, had very much the appearance of the work of an artist 
 who had never learned from others the usual and regular practice 
 belonging to the art ; but still, like a man of strong intuitive per- 
 ception of what was required, he found out a way of his own to 
 accomplish his purpose. 
 
 It is no disgrace to the genius cf Gainsborough, to compare 
 him to such men as we sometimes meet with, whose natural 
 eloquence appears even in speaking a language, which they can 
 scarce be said to understand j and who, without knowing the ap- 
 propriate expression of almost any one idea, contrive to communi- 
 cate the lively and forcible impressions of anenergetick mind. 
 
 I THINK 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 3C9 
 
 I think some apology may reasonably be made for his manner, 
 without violating truth, or running any risk of poisoning the 
 minds of the younger students, by propagating false criticism, 
 for the sake of raising the character of a favourite artist. It must 
 be allowed, that this hatching manner of Gainsborough did very 
 much contribute to the lightness of effect which is so eminent 
 a beauty in his pictures ; as on the contrary, much smoothness, 
 and uniting the colours, is apt to produce heaviness. Every artist 
 must have remarked, how often that lightness of hand which 
 was in his dead-colour, or first painting, escaped in the finishing, 
 when he had determined the parts with more precision ; and 
 another loss he often experiences, which is of greater consequence; 
 whilst he is employed in the detail, the effect of the whole together 
 is either forgotten or neglected. The likeness of a portrait, as 
 I have formerly observed, consists more in preserving the general 
 effect of the countenance, than in the most minute finishing of 
 the features, or any of the particular parts. Now Gainsborough's 
 portraits were often little more, in regard to finishing, or deter- 
 mining the form of the features, than what generally attends 
 a dead colour; but as he was always attentive to the general effect, 
 or whole together, I have often imagined that this unfinished man- 
 ner contributed even to that striking resemblance for which his 
 portraits are so remarkable. Though this opinion may be considered 
 as fanciful, yet I think a plausible reason may be given, why such a 
 mode of painting should have such an effect. It is presupposed 
 that in this undetermined manner there is the general effect; 
 enough to remind the spectator of the original ; the imagination 
 supplies the rest, and perhaps more satisfactorily to himself, if 
 not more exactly, than the artist, with all his care, could pcssibly 
 
 hai e 
 
310 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 have done. At the same time it must be acknowledged there is 
 one evil attending this mode; that if the portrait were seen, pre- 
 vious to any knowledge of the original, different persons would 
 form different ideas, and all would be disappointed at not finding 
 the original correspond with their own conceptions ; under the 
 great latitude which indistinctness gives to the imagination, to 
 assume almost what character or form it pleases.. 
 
 Every artist has some favourite part on which he fixes his 
 attention, and which he pursues with such eagerness, that it 
 absorbs every other consideration ; and he often falls into the 
 opposite error of that which he would avoid, which is always 
 read/ to receive him. Now Gainsborough having truly a painter's 
 eye for colouring, cultivated those effects of the art which pro- 
 ceed from colours; and sometimes appears to be indifferent to 
 or to neglect other excellencies. Whatever defects are acknow- 
 ledged, let him still experience from us the same candour that 
 we so freely give upon similar occasions to the ancient masters ; 
 let us not encourage that fastidious disposition, which is discon- 
 tented with everything short of perfection, and unreasonably require, 
 as we sometimes do, a union of excellencies, not perhaps quite 
 compatible with each other. — We may, on this ground, say 
 even of the divine Raffaelle, that he might have finished his picture 
 as highly and as correctly as was his custom, without heaviness 
 of manner j and that Poussin might have preserved all his precision 
 without hardness or dryness. 
 
 To shew the difficulty of uniting solidity with lightness of 
 manner, we may produce a picture of Rubens in the Church of 
 
 6 St. 
 
DISCOURSE XIV. 311 
 
 St. Judule, at Brussels, as an example; the subject is, ChrijTs 
 charge to Peter; which, as it is the highest, and smoothest, 
 finished picture I remember to have seen of that master, so it is 
 by far the heaviest ; and if I had found it in any other place, I 
 should have suspected it to be a copy ; for painters know very 
 well, that it is principally by this air of facility, or the want of 
 it, that originals are distinguished from copies. — A lightness 
 of effect, produced by colour, and that produced by facility of 
 handling, are generally united ; a copy may preserve something 
 of the one, it is true, but hardly ever of the other ; a connoisseur 
 therefore finds it often necessary to look carefully into the picture 
 before he determines on its originality. Gainsborough possessed 
 this quality of lightness of manner and effect, I think, to an un- 
 exampled degree of excellence ; but, it must be acknowledged, 
 at the same time, that the sacrifice which he made to this orna- 
 ment of our art, was too great ; it was, in reality, preferring the 
 lesser excellencies to the greater. 
 
 To conclude. However, we may apologize for the deficiencies 
 of Gainsborough, (I mean particularly his want of precision and 
 finishing,) who so ingeniously contrived to cover his defects by 
 his beauties ; and who cultivated that department of art, where 
 such defects are more easily excused ? You are to remember, 
 that no apology can be made for this deficiency, in that style 
 which this academy teaches, and which ought to be the object of 
 your pursuit. It will be necessary for you, in the first place, 
 never to lose sight of the great rules and principles of the art, 
 as they are collected from the full body of the best general practice, 
 and the most constant and uniform experience; this must be 
 
 the 
 
3i2 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 'the ground-work of all your studies : afterwards you may profit, 
 as in this case I wish you to profit, by the peculiar experience 
 and personal talents of artists living and dead; you may derive 
 lights, and catch hints from their practice ; but the moment 
 you turn them into models, you fall infinitely below them ; you 
 may be corrupted by excellencies, not so much belonging to the 
 art as personal and appropriated to the artist ; and become 
 bad copies of good painters, instead of excellent imitators of the 
 great universal truth of things. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE STUDENTS OF 
 
 THE ROYAL ACADEMY 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF THE PRIZES, 
 DECEMBER 10, 179*.- 
 
 *Vol. I. 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 ; I ^HE intimate connection which I have had with the Royal 
 J. Academy ever since its establishment, the social duties 
 in which we have all mutually engaged for so many years, make 
 any profession of attachment to this Institution, on my part, 
 altogether superfluous ; the influence of habit alone in such a 
 connection would naturally have produced it. 
 
 Among men united in the same body, and engaged in the 
 same pursuit, along with permanent friendship occasional dif- 
 ferences will arise. In these disputes men are naturally too fa- 
 vourable to themselves, and think perhaps too hardly of theif 
 antagonists. But composed and constituted as we are, those 
 little contentions will be lost to others, and they ought certainly 
 to be lost arrongst ourselves, in mutual esteem for talents and ac- 
 quirements : every controversy ought to be, and I am persuaded, 
 will be, sunk in our zeal for the perfection of our common Art. 
 
 In parting with the Academy, I shall remember with pride, 
 affection, and gratitude, the support with which I have almost 
 
 S s 2 uniformly 
 
3 i6 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 uniformly been honoured from the commencement of our inter- 
 course. I shall leave you, Gentlemen, with unaffected cordial 
 wishes for your future concord, and with a well-founded hope,, 
 that in that concord, the auspicious and not obscure origin of our 
 Academy may be forgotten in the splendour of your succeeding 
 prospects. 
 
 My age, and my infirmities still more than my age, make 
 it probable that this will be the last time I shall have the honour 
 of addressing you from this place. Excluded as I am, spatiis 
 iniquisy from indulging my imagination with a distant and forward 
 perspective of life, I may be excused if I turn my eyes back on 
 the way which I have passed. 
 
 We may assume to ourselves, I should hope, the credit of 
 having endeavoured, at least,, to fill with propriety that middle 
 station which we hold in the general connection of things. Our 
 predecessors have laboured for our advantage, we labour for our 
 successors j and though we have done no more in this mutual 
 intercourse and reciprocation of benefits, than has been effected 
 by other societies formed in this nation for the advancement of 
 useful and ornamental knowledge, yet there is one circumstance 
 which appears to me to give us an higher claim than the credit 
 of merely doing our duty. What I at present allude to, is the 
 honour of having been, some of us, the first contrivers, and all 
 of us the promoters and supporters, of the annual Exhibition. 
 This scheme could only have originated from Artists already in 
 possession of the favour of the publick, as it would not have 
 been so much in the power of others to have excited curiosity. 
 
 It 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 3 i T 
 
 It must be remembered, that for the sake of bringing forward 
 into notice concealed merit, they incurred the risk of producing 
 rivals to themselves; they voluntarily entered the lists, and ran 
 the race a second time for the prize which they. had already won. 
 
 When we take a review of the several departments of the 
 Institution, I think we may safely congratulate ourselves on our 
 good fortune in having hitherto seen the chairs of our professors 
 filled with men of distinguished abilities, and who have so well 
 acquitted themselves of their duty in their several departments. I 
 look upon it to be of importance, that none of them should be 
 ever left unfilled : a neglect to provide for qualified persons, is to> 
 produce a neglect of qualifications. 
 
 In this honourable rank of Professors, I have not presumed 
 to class myself, though in the Discourses which I have had the 
 honour of delivering from this place, while in one respect I 
 may be considered as a volunteer, in another view it seems as if I 
 was involuntarily pressed into this service. If prizes were to be gi- 
 ven, it appeared not only proper, but almost indispensibly ne- 
 cessary, that something should be said by the President on the 
 delivery of those prizes ; and the president for his own credit 
 would wish to say something more than mere words of compli-.. 
 ment, which, by being frequently repeated, would soon become 
 flat and uninteresting, and by being uttered to many, would at last 
 become a distinction to none : I thought, therefore, if I were 
 to preface this compliment with some instructive observations 
 on the Art, when we crowned merit in the Artists whom we 
 
 rewarded, 
 
3 i8 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 rewarded, I might do something to animate and guide them in 
 their future attempts. 
 
 I am truly sensible how unequal I have been to the expression 
 of my own ideas. To develope the latent excellencies, and draw 
 out the interior principles, of our art, requires more skill and 
 practice in writing, than is likely to be possessed by a man per- 
 petually occupied in the use of the pencil and the pallet. : It i« 
 for that reason, perhaps, that the sister Art has had the advan- 
 tage of better criticism. Poets are naturally writers of prose. 
 They may be said to be practising only an inferior department 
 of their own art, when they are explaining and expatiating up- 
 on its most refined principles. But still such difficulties ought 
 not to deter Artists who are not prevented by other engagements 
 from putting their thoughts in order as well as they can, and 
 from giving to the pub lick the result of their experience. The 
 knowledge which an Artist has of his subjecl will more than 
 compensate for any want of elegance in the manner of treating 
 it, or even of perspicuity, which is still more essential ; and 
 I am convinced that one short essay written by a Painter, will 
 contribute more to advance the theory of our art, than a thousand 
 volumes such as we sometimes see the purpose of which ap- 
 pears to be rather to display the refinement of the Author's own 
 conceptions of impossible practice, than to convey useful know- 
 ledge or instruction of any kind whatever. An Artist knows 
 what is, and what is not, within the province of his art to 
 perform, and is not likely to be for ever teazing the poor 
 Student with the beauties of mixed passions, or to perplex 
 
 him 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 319 
 
 him with an imaginary union of excellencies incompatible with 
 each other. 
 
 To this work, however, I could not be said to come totally 
 unprovided with materials. I had seen much, and 1 had thought 
 much upon what I had seen ; I had something of an habit of in- 
 vestigation, and a disposition to reduce all that I observed and 
 felt in my own mind, to method and system ; but never having 
 seen what I myself knew, distinctly placed before me on paper, I 
 knew nothing correctly. To put those ideas into something like 
 order was, to my inexperience, no easy task. The composition, 
 the poncre totum even of a single Discourse, as well as of a 
 single statue, was the most difficult part, as perhaps it is of every 
 other art, and most requires the hand of a master. 
 
 For the manner, whatever deficiency there was, I might 
 reasonably expect indulgence ; but I thought it indispensibly ne- 
 cessary well to consider the opinions which were to be given out 
 from this place, and under the sanction of a Royal Academy ; 
 I therefore examined not only my own opinions, but likewise 
 the opinions of others. I found in the course of this research, 
 many precepts and rules established in our art, which did not 
 seem to me altogether reconcileable with each other, yet each 
 seemed in itself to have the same claim of being supported by 
 truth and nature ; and this claim, irreconcileable as they may be 
 thought, they do in reality alike possess. 
 
 To clear away those difficulties, and reconcile those contrary 
 opinions, it became necessary to distinguish the greater truth, as 
 
 it 
 
yio DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 it may be called, from the lesser tru th ; the larger and more 
 liberal idea of nature from the more narrow and confined ; that 
 which addresses itself to the imagination, from that which is 
 solely addressed to the eye. In consequence of this discrimination, 
 the different branches of our art, to which those different truths 
 were referred, were perceived to make so wide a separation, and 
 put on so new an appearance, that they seemed scarcely to have 
 proceeded from the same general stock. The different rules and 
 regulations, which presided over each department of art, fol- 
 lowed of course : every mode of excellence, from the grand 
 style of the Roman and Florentine schools down to the lowest 
 rank of still life, had its due weight and value ; fitted some class 
 or other ; and nothing was thrown away. By this disposition, 
 of our art into classes, that perplexity and confusion, which I 
 apprehend every Artist has at some time experienced from the 
 variety of styles, and the variety of excellence with which he 
 is surrounded, is, I should hope, in some measure removed, and 
 the Student better enabled to judge for himself, what peculiarly 
 belongs to his own particular pursuit. 
 
 In reviewing my Discourses, it is no small satisfaction to be 
 assured that I have, in no part of them, lent my assistance to 
 foster newly-hatched unfledged opinions, or endeavoured to sup- 
 port paradoxes, however tempting may have been their novelty, 
 or however ingenious I might, for the minute, fancy them to be ; 
 nor shall I, I hope, any where be found to have imposed on the 
 minds of young Students declamation for argument, a smooth 
 period for a sound precept. I have pursued a plain and honejl 
 method; I have taken up the art simply as I found it exemplified 
 i in 
 
DISCOURSE XV. jii 
 
 In the practice of the most approved Painters. That approbation 
 which the world has uniformly given, I have endeavoured to 
 justify by such proofs as questions of this kind will admit; by 
 the analogy which Painting holds with the sister Arts, and con- 
 sequently by the common congeniality which they all bear to our 
 nature. And though in what has been done, no new discovery 
 is pretended, I may still flatter myself,, that from the discoveries 
 which others have made by their own intuitive good sense and 
 native rectitude of judgment, I have succeeded in establish- 
 ing the rules and principles of our Art on a more firm and 
 lasting foundation than that on which they had formerly been 
 placed. 
 
 Without wishing to divert the Student from the practice of 
 his Art to fpeculative theory, to make him a mere Connoisseur 
 instead of a Painter, I cannot but remark, that he will certainly" 
 find an account in considering once for all, on what ground the 
 fabrick of our Art is built. Uncertain, confused, or erroneous 
 opinions are not only detrimental to an Artist in their immediate 
 operation, but may possibly have very serious consequences ; 
 affect his conduct, and give a peculiar character (as it may 
 be called) to his taste, and to his pursuits, through his whole 
 life. 
 
 I was acquainted at Rome in the early part of my life, with 
 a Student of the French Academy, who appeared to me to pos- 
 sess all the qualities requisite to make a great Artist, if he had 
 suffered his taste and feelings, and I may add even his prejudices, 
 to have fair play. He saw and felt the excellencies of the great 
 
 Vol. I. T t wocks 
 
322 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 works of Art with which we were surrounded, but lamented that 
 
 there was not to be found that Nature which is so admira- 
 ble in the inferior schools ; and he supposed with Felibien, 
 Du Piles, and other Theorists, that fuch an union of diffe- 
 rent excellencies would be the perfection of Art. He was not 
 aware, that the narrow idea of Nature, of which he lamented 
 the absence in the works of those great Artists, would have de;- 
 stroyed the grandeur of the general ideas which he admired, and 
 which was indeed the cause of his admiration. My opinions 
 being then confused and unsettled, I was in danger of being borne 
 down by this kind of plausible reasoning, though I remember I then 
 had a dawning of suspicion that it Was not sound doctrine ; and at 
 the same time I was unwilling obstinately to refuse assent to what 
 I was unable to confute. 
 
 That the young Artist may not be seduced from the right path,, 
 by following what, at first view, he may think the light of 
 Reason, and which is indeed Reason in part, but not in the 
 whole, has been much the object of these Discourses. 
 
 I have taken every opportunity of recommending a rational 
 method of study, as of the last importance. The great, I may 
 say the sole, use of an Academy is, to put, and for some time to 
 keep, Students in that course ; that too much indulgence may 
 not be given to peculiarity, and that a young man may not be 
 taught to believe, that what is generally good for others is not 
 good for him. 
 
 I HAVE 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 3 i 3 
 
 I have strongly inculcated in my former Discourses, as I 
 do in this my last, the wisdom and necessity of previously ob- 
 taining the appropriated instruments of the Art, in a first cor- 
 rect design, and a plain manly colouring, before any thing more 
 is attempted. But by this I would not wish to cramp and fetter 
 the mind, or discourage those who follow (as most of us may at 
 ©ne time have followed) the suggestion of a strong inclination : 
 something must be conceded to great and irresistible impulses : 
 perhaps every Student must not be strictly bound to general me- 
 thods, if they strongly thwart the peculiar turn of his own mind. 
 I must confess, that it is not absolutely of much consequence, 
 whether he proceeds in the general method of seeking first to 
 acquire mechanical accuracy, before he attempts poetical flights-, 
 provided he diligently studies to attain the full 'perfection of the 
 style he pursues ; whether like Parmegiano, he endeavours 
 at grace and grandeur of manner before he has learned correctness 
 of drawing, if like him he feels his own wants, and will labour, 
 as that eminent Artist did, to supply those wants ; whether 
 'he starts from the East or from the West, if he relaxes in no 
 exertion to arrive ultimately at the same goal. The first publick 
 work of Parmegiano is the St. Eustachius, in the church of St. 
 Petronius in Bologna, and was done when he was ahoy; and 
 one of the last of his works is the Moses breaking the tables 
 in Parma. In the former there is certainly something of gran- 
 deur in the outline, oi" in the conception of the figure, which 
 discovers the dawnings of future greatness ; of a young mind 
 impregnated with the sublimity ©f Michael Angelo, whose style 
 he here attempts to imitate, though he could not then draw the 
 human figure with any common degree • of correctness. Btft 
 
 T t 2 
 
324 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 this same Parmegiano, when in his more mature age he painted 
 the Moses, had so completely supplied his first defects, that we 
 are here at a loss which to admire most, the correctness of drawing, 
 or the grandeur of the conception. As a confirmation of its great 
 excellence, and of the impression which it leaves on the minds 
 of degant spectators, I may observe, that our great Lyrick Poet, 
 when he conceived his sublime idea of the indignant Welch bard, 
 acknowledged, that though many years had intervened, he had 
 warmed his imagination with the remembrance of this noble 
 .figure of Parmegiano. 
 
 When we consider that Michael Angelo was the great arche- 
 type to whom Parmegiano was indebted for that grandeur which 
 we find in his works, and from whom all his contemporaries and. 
 successors have derived whatever they have possessed of the digni- 
 fied and the majestick ; that he was the bright luminary, from 
 whom Painting has borrowed a new lustre ; that under his 
 hands it assumed a new appearance, and is become another and 
 superior art ; I may be excused if I take this opportunity, as 
 I have hitherto taken every occasion, to turn your attention to 
 this exalted Founder and Father of modern Art, of which 
 he was not only the inventor, but which, by the divine energy 
 ©f his own mind, he carried at once to its highest point of 
 possible perfection. 
 
 The sudden maturity to which Michael Angelo brought 
 our Art, and the comparative feebleness of his followers and imi- 
 tators, might perhaps be reasonably, at least plausibly explained, 
 if we had time for such an examination. At present I shall only 
 
 observe, 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 3j| 
 
 observe, that the subordinate parts of -our Art, and perhaps of 
 other Arts, expand themselves by a slow and progressive growth ; 
 but those which depend on a native vigour of imagination gene- 
 rally burst forth at once in fullness of beauty. Of this Homer 
 probably, and Shakspeare more assuredly, are signal examples. 
 .Michael Angelo possessed the poetical part of our art in a most 
 eminent degree ; and the same daring spirit, which urged him first to 
 explore the unknown regions of the imagination, delighted with 
 the novelty, and animated by the success of his discoveries, could 
 not have failed to stimulate and impel him forward in his career 
 beyond those limits, which his followers, destitute of the same 
 incentives, had not strength to pass. 
 
 To distinguish between correctness of drawing, and that part 
 •which respects the imagination, we may say the one approaches 
 to the mechanical (which in its way too may make just pretensions 
 to genius) and the other to the poetical. To encourage a solid 
 and vigorous course of study, it may not be amiss to suggest, 
 that perhaps a confidence in the mechanick produces a boldness 
 in the poetick. He that is sure of the goodness of his ship and 
 tackle puts out fearlessly from the shore ; and he who knows, 
 that his hand can execute whatever his fancy can suggest, sports 
 with more freedom in embodying the visionary forms of his 
 own creation. I will not say Michael Angelo was eminently 
 poetical, only because he was greatly mechanical ; but I am 
 sure that mechanick excellence invigorated and emboldened his 
 mind to carry painting into the regions of poetry, and to emulate 
 that art in its most adventurous flights. Michael Angelo equally pos- 
 sessed both qualifications. Yet of mechanick excellence there were 
 
 6 certainly 
 
3 i6 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 certainly great examples to be found in Ancient Sculpture, and par- 
 ticularly in the fragment known by the name of the Torso of 
 Michael Angelo; but of that grandeur of character, air, and 
 attitude, which he threw into all his figures, and which so well 
 corresponds with the grandeur of his outline, there was no example ; 
 it could therefore proceed only from the most poetical and sublime 
 imagination. 
 
 It is impossible not to express some surprise, that the race of 
 Painters who preceded Michael Angelo, men of acknowledged 
 great abilities, should never have thought of transferring a little 
 of that grandeur of outline which they could not but see and 
 admire in Ancient Sculpture, into their own works ; but they 
 appear to have considered Sculpture as the later schools of Artists 
 look at the inventions of Michael Angelo, as something to be 
 admired, but with which they have nothing to do : quod super 
 iios> nihil adnos. — The Artists of that age, even Raffaelle himself, 
 seemed to be going on very contentedly in the dry manner of Pietro 
 Perugino ; and if Michael Angelo had never appeared, the Art 
 might still have continued in the same style. 
 
 Beside Rome and Florence, where the grandeur of this style 
 was first displayed, it was on this foundation that the Caracci 
 built the truly great Academical Bolognian school, of which the 
 first stone was laid by Pellegrino Tibaldi. He first introduced 
 .this style amongst them ; and many instances might be given in 
 which he appears to have possessed as by inheritance, the true,, 
 genuine, noble and elevated mind of Michael Angelo. Though 
 we cannot venture to speak of him with the same fondness as his 
 
 countrymen. 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 377 
 
 countrymen, and call him, as the Caracci did, Nostra Michael 
 Angela rifoimato> yet he has a right to be considered amongst the 
 first and greatest of his followers : there arc certainly many drawings 
 and inventions of his, of which Michael Angelo himself miffht 
 not disdain to be supposed the Author, or that they should be, 
 as in fact they often are, mistaken for his. I will mention one 
 particular instance, because it is found in a book which is in every 
 young Artist's hands; — Bishop's Ancient Statues. He there has 
 introduced a print,- representing Polyphemus, frcm a drawing 
 of Tibaldi, and has inscribed it with the name of Michael Angelo, 
 to whom he has also in the same book attributed a Sybil of Raf- 
 faelle. Both these figures, it is true, are profesredly in Michael 
 Angelo's style and spirit, and even worthy of his hand. But we 
 know that the former is painted in the Institute a Bologna by 
 Tibaldi, and the other in the Pace by Raffaelie. 
 
 The Caracci, it is acknowledged, adopted the mechanical 
 
 i 
 
 part with sufficient success. But the divine part which addresses 
 itself to the imagination, as possessed by Michael Angelo or Tibaldi, 
 was beyond their grasp: they formed, however*, a most respectable 
 school, a style more on the level, and calculated to please a greater 
 number; and if excellence of this kind is to be valued according 
 to the number, rather than the weight and quality of admirers, 
 it would assume even an higher rank in Art. The same, in some 
 sort, may be said of Tintoret, Paulo Veronese, and others of the 
 Venetian Painters. They certainly much advanced the dignity 
 of their style by adding to their fascinating powers of colouring- 
 something of the strength of Michael Angelo; at the same time 
 it may still be a doubt how far their ornamental elegance would 
 
 be 
 
3*3 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 be an advantageous addition to his grandeur. But if there k 
 any manner of Painting which may be said to unite kindly with 
 his style, it is that of Titian. His handling, the manner in 
 which his colours are left on the canvas, appears to proceed (as 
 far as that goes) from a congenial mind, equally disdainful of 
 vulgar criticism. 
 
 Michael Angelo's strength thus qualified, and made more, 
 palatable to the general taste, reminds me of an observation 
 which I heard a learned critick * make, when it was incidentally 
 remarked, that our translation of Homer, however excellent, 
 did not convey the character, nor had the grand air of the ori- 
 ginal. He replied, that if Pope had not cloathed the naked 
 majesty of Homer with the graces and elegancies of modern 
 fashions, though the real dignity of Homer was degraded by such 
 a dress, his translation would not have met with such a favourable 
 reception, and he must have been contented with fewer readers. 
 
 Many of the Flemish painters, who studied at Rome, in that 
 great era of our art, such as Francis Floris, Hemskerk, Michael 
 Coxis, Jerom Cock, and others, returned to their own country, 
 with as much of this grandeur as they could carry. But like seeds 
 falling on a soil not prepared or adapted to their nature, the man- 
 ner of Michael Angel o thrived but little with them ; perhaps, 
 however, they contributed to prepare the way for that free, un- 
 constrained, and liberal outline, which was afterwards intro- 
 duced by Rubens, through the medium of the Venetian Painters, 
 
 * Pr. Johnfun, 
 
 This 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 537 
 
 This grandeur of style has been in different degrees dissemi- 
 nated over all Europe. Some caught it by living at the time, 
 and coming into contact with the original author, whilst others 
 received it at second hand ; and being every where adopted, it has 
 totally changed the whole taste and style of design, if there could 
 be said to beany style before his time. Our art, in consequence, 
 now assumes a rank to which it could never have dared to aspire 
 if Michael Angelo had not discovered to the world the hidden 
 powers which it possessed. Without his assistance we never 
 could have been convinced, that Painting was capable of produ- 
 cing an adequate representation of the persons and actions of 
 the heroes of the Iliad. 
 
 I would ask any man qualified to judge of such works, whe- 
 ther he can look with indifference at the personification of the 
 Supreme Being in the center of the Capella Sestina, or the 
 figures of the Sybils which surround that chapel, to which we 
 may add the statue of Moses ; and whether the same sensations 
 are not excited by those works, as what he may remember to 
 have felt from the most sublime passages of Homer ? I mention 
 those figures more particularly, as they come nearer to a compa- 
 rison with his Jupiter, his demi-gous, and heroes; those Sybils 
 and Prophets being a kind of intermediate beings between men 
 and angels. Though instances may be produced in the work* 
 of other Painters, which may justly stand in competition with 
 those I have mentioned, such as the Isaiah, and the vision of 
 Ezekiel, by Raffaelle, the St. Mark of Frate Bartolomeo, and 
 many others ; yet these, it must be allowed, are inventions so 
 much in Michael Angelo's manner of thinking, that they may 
 
 Vol. I. U u be 
 
33 S DISCOURSE XV, 
 
 be truly considered as so many rays, which discover manifestly 
 the center from whence they emanated. 
 
 The sublime in Painting, as in Poetry, so overpowers, and 
 takes such a possession of the whole mind, that no room is left 
 for attention to minute criticism. The little elegancies of art 
 in the presence of these great ideas thus greatly expressed, lose 
 alL their value, and are, for the instant at least, felt to be un- 
 worthy of our notice. The correct judgment, the purity of 
 taste, which characterise RafFaelle, the exquisite grace of Cor- 
 reggio and Parmegiano, all disappear before them. 
 
 That Michael Angelo was capricious in his inventions, can- 
 not be denied ; and this may make some circumspection necessary 
 in studying his works for though they appear to become him, 
 an imitation of them is always dangerous, and will prove some- 
 times ridiculous. " Within that circle none durst walk but he.". 
 To me, I confess, his caprice does not lower the estimation of 
 his genius, even though it is sometimes, I acknowledge, carried 
 to the extreme : and however those eccen trick excursions are con- 
 sidered, we must at the same time recollect, that those faults, 
 if they are faults, are such as never could occur to a mean and 
 vulgar mind that they flowed from the same source which pro- 
 duced his greatest beauties, and were therefore such as none but 
 himself was capable of committing; they were the powerful 
 impulses of a mind unused to subjection of any kind, and too 
 high to be controled by cold criticism- 
 
 Many 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 3^9 
 
 Many see his daring extravagance, who can see nothing else. 
 A young Artist finds the works of Michael Angelo so totally dif- 
 ferent from those of his own master, or of those with whom he 
 is surrounded, that he may be easily persuaded to abandon and 
 neglect studying a style, which appears to him wild, mysterious, 
 and above his comprehension, and which he therefore feels no 
 disposition to admire ; a good disposition, which he concludes 
 that he should naturally have, if the style deserved it. It is neces- 
 sary therefore that Students should be prepared for the disappoint- 
 ment which they may experience at their first setting out; and 
 they must be cautioned, that probably they will not, at first 
 sight, approve. 
 
 It must be remembered, that as this great style itself is ar- 
 tificial in the highest degree, it presupposes in the spectator, a 
 cultivated and prepared artificial state of mind. It is an absurdity 
 therefore to suppose that we are born with this taste, though we are 
 with the seeds of it, which, by the heat and kindly influence of 
 his genius, may be ripened in us. 
 
 A late Philosopher and Critick* has observed, speaking of 
 taste, that we are on no account to expect that fine things should 
 descend to us, — our taste, if possible, must be made to ascend to 
 them. The same learned writer recommends to us even, to feign 
 a relish, till we find a relish come ; and feel, that what began in . 
 ficiion, terminates in reality. If there be in our Art, any thing 
 of that agreement or compact, such as I apprehend there is in 
 Musick, with which the Critick is necessarily required previously 
 
 * James Harris, Efq. 
 
 U U 2 
 
340 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 to be acquainted, in order to form a correct judgment ; the com- 
 parison with this art will illustrate what I have said on these 
 points, and tend to shew the probability, we may say the cer- 
 tainty, that men are not born with a relish for those arts in their 
 most refined state, which as they cannot understand, they cannot 
 be impressed with their effects. This great style of Michael 
 Angelo is as far removed from the simple representation of the 
 common objects of nature, as the most refined Italian musick is 
 from the inartificial notes of nature, from whence they both pro- 
 fess to originate. But without such a supposed compact, we 
 may be very confident that the highest state of refinement in either 
 of those arts will not be relished without a long and industrious 
 attention. 
 
 In pursuing this great Art, it must be acknowledged that we 
 labour under greater difficulties than those who were born in the 
 age of its discovery, and whose minds from their infancy were 
 habituated to this style ; who learnt it as language, as their mother 
 tongue. They had no mean taste to unlearn ; they needed no 
 persuasive discourse to allure them to a favourable reception of 
 it, no abstruse investigation of its principles to convince them of 
 the great latent truths on which it is founded. We are con- 
 strained, in these later days, to have recourse to a sort of Grammar 
 and Dictionary, as the only means of recovering a dead language. 
 It was by them learned by rote, and perhaps better learned that 
 way than by precept. 
 
 The style of Michael Angelo, which I have compared to 
 language, and which may, poetically speaking, be called the 
 
 language 
 
DISCOURSE XV. -34, 
 
 language of the Gods, now no longer exists, as it did in the fifteenth 
 century; yet, with the aid of diligence, we may in a great measure 
 supply the deficiency which I mentioned, of not having his works 
 so perpetually before our eyes, by having recourse to casts from 
 his models and designs in Sculpture ; to drawings or even copies 
 of those drawings ; to prints, which however ill executed, still con- 
 vey something by which this taste may be formed ; and a relish 
 may be fixed and established in our minds for this grand style of 
 invention. Some examples of this kind we have in the Academy ; 
 and I sincerely wish there were more, that the younger Students 
 might in their first nourishment, imbibe this taste; whilst others, 
 though settled in the practice of the common-place style of 
 Painters, might infuse, by this means, a grandeur into their 
 works. 
 
 I shall now make some remarks on the course which I 
 think most proper to be pursued in such a study. I wish you 
 not to go so much to the derivative streams, as to the fountain-head; 
 though the copies are not to be neglected ; because they may give 
 you hints in what manner you may copy, and how the genius 
 of one man may be made to fit the peculiar manner of another. 
 
 To recover this lost taste, I would recommend young Artists to 
 study the works of Michael Angelo, as he himself did the works 
 of the ancient Sculptors ; he began, when a child, a copy of a mu- 
 tilated Satyr's head, and finished in his model what was wanting 
 in the original. In the same manner, the first exercise that I 
 would recommend to the young artist when he first attempts in- 
 vention, is to select every figure, if possible, from the inventions of 
 
 Michael 
 
342 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 Michael Angelo. If such borrowed figures will not bend to hi s 
 purpose, and he is constrained to make a change to supply a figure 
 himself, that figure will necessarily be in the same style with the 
 rest, and his taste will by this means be naturally initiated, and nursed 
 in the lap of grandeur. Pie will sooner perceive what constitutes 
 this grand style by one practical trial than by a thousand specula- 
 tions, and he will in some sort procure to himself that advantage 
 which in these later ages has been denied him j the advantage 
 of having the greatest of Artists for his master and instructor. 
 
 The next lesson should be, to change the purpose of the figures 
 without changing the attitude, as Tintoret has done with the Samp- 
 son of Michael Angelo. Instead of the figure which Sampson be- 
 strides, he has placed an eagle under him, and instead of the jaw- 
 bone, thunder and lightening in his right hand ; and thus it be- 
 comes a Jupiter. Titian, in the same manner, has taken the 
 figure which represents God dividing the light from the darkness 
 in the vault of the Capella Sestina, and has introduced it in the 
 famous battle of Cadore, so much celebrated by Vasari • and ex- 
 traordinary as it may seem, it is here converted to a General, falling 
 from his horse. A real judge who should look at this picture,- 
 would immediately pronounce the attitude of that figure to be in 
 a greater style than any other figure of the composition. These 
 two instances may be sufficient, though many more might' 
 be given in their works, as well as in those of other great* 
 Artists. 
 
 When the Student has been habituated to this grand conception,, 
 of the Art, when the relish for this style is established, makes a part . 
 
 of 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 34j 
 
 of- himself, and is woven into his mind, he will, by this time, have 
 got a power of selecting from whatever occurs in nature that is 
 grand, and corresponds with that taste which he has now acquired, 
 and will pass over whatever is common-place and insipid. He may 
 then bring to the mart such works of his own proper invention 
 as may enrich and increase the general stock of invention in 
 our Art. 
 
 I am confident of the truth and propriety of the advice which I 
 have recommended at the same time I am aware, how much by 
 this advice I have laid myself open to the sarcasms of those criticks . 
 who imagine our Art to be a matter of inspiration. But I should 
 be sorry it should appear even to myself that I wanted that courage 
 which I have recommended to the Students in another way : 
 equal courage perhaps is required in the adviser and the advised 
 they both must equally dare and bid defiance to narrow criticism 
 and vulgar opinion. 
 
 That the Art has been in a gradual state of decline, from the 
 age of Michael Angelo to the present, must be acknowledged ; and 
 we may reasonably impute this declension to the same cause to which 
 the ancient Criticks and Philosophers have imputed the corruption 
 of eloquence. Indeed the same causes are likely at all times and in 
 all ages to produce the same effects: indolence, — not takingthe same 
 pains as our great predecerfors took, — desiring to find a shorter way, — 
 are the general imputed causes. The words of Petronius* are very 
 
 remarkable. 
 
 * Pi&ura quoque nonaliumexituitt fecit, postquam /Egyptiorum audacia tarn magna 
 artis compendiariam invenit. 
 
 6 
 
344 DISCOURSE XT. 
 
 remarkable. After opposing the natural chaste beauty of theelo- 
 quence of former ages to the strained inflated style then in fashion, 
 " neither," says he, " has the art of Painting had a better fate, after 
 " the boldness of the Egyptians had found out a compendious way 
 6< to execute so great an art." 
 
 By comp endions, I understand him to mean a mode of Painting, 
 such as has infected the style of the later Painters of Italy and 
 France ; common-place, without thought, and with as little 
 trouble, working as by a receipt ; in contradistinction to that style 
 for which even a relish cannot be acquired without care and long 
 attention, and most certainly the power of executing cannot be 
 obtained without the most laborious application, 
 
 I have endeavoured to stimulate the ambition of Artists to 
 tread in this great path of glory, and, as well as I can, have pointed 
 out the track which leads to it, and have at the same time told 
 them the price at which it may be obtained. It is an ancient 
 saying, that labour is the price which the Gods have set upon 
 every thing valuable. 
 
 The great Artist, who has been so much the subject of the 
 present Discourse, was distinguished even from his infancy for his 
 indefatigable diligence ; and this was continued through his whole 
 life, till prevented by extreme old age. The poorest of men, as 
 he observed himself, did not labour from necessity, more than he 
 did from choice. Indeed, from all the circumstances related of 
 his life, he appears not to have had the least conception that his art 
 was to be acquired by any other means than by great labour and 
 
 yet 
 
 t 
 
DISCOURSE XV. 345 
 
 yet he, of all men that ever lived, might make the greatest pre- 
 tensions to the efficacy of native genius and inspiration. I have 
 no doubt that he would have thought it no disgrace, that it should 
 be said of him, as he himself said of RafFaelle, that he did not pos- 
 sess his art from nature, but by long study* . He was conscious that 
 the great excellence to which he arrived was gained by dint of labour, 
 und was unwilling to have it thought that any trartsceirdbnf skill, 
 however natural its effects might seem, could be purchased at a 
 cheaper price than he had paid for it, This seems to have been the 
 true drift of his observation. We cannot suppose it made with 
 any intention of depreciating the genius of Raffaelle, of whom he 
 always spoke, as Condivi says, with the greatest respect : though 
 they were rivals, no such illiberality existed between them ; and 
 Raffaelle on his part entertained the greatest veneration for Mfebfael 
 Angelo, as appears from the speech which is recorded of him, 
 that he congratulated himself, and thanked God, that he was born 
 in the same age with that painter. 
 
 If the high esteem and veneration in which Michael Angelo has 
 been held by all nations and in all ages, should be put to the account 
 of prejudice, it must still be granted that those prejudices could 
 not have been entertained without a cause : the ground of our 
 prejudice then becomes the source of our admiration. But 
 from whatever it proceeds, or whatever it is called, it will not 
 I hope, be thought presumptuous in me to appear in the train, 
 I cannot say of his imitators, but of his admirers. I Lave taken 
 another course, one more suited to my abilities, and to the taste 
 of the times in which I live. Yet however unequal I feel 
 
 * Che Raffaelle non ebbe quest* «rte da tia/ura, ma per lungo studio. 
 
 Vol. I. X x myself 
 
346 DISCOURSE XV, 
 
 myself to that attempt, were I now to begin the world again, I 
 would tread in the steps of that great master : to kiss the hem 
 of his garment, to catch the slightest of his perfections, 
 would be glory and distinction enough for an ambitious man. 
 
 I feel a felf-congratulation in knowing myself capable of such 
 sensations as he intended to excite. I reflect not without vanity, 
 that these Discourses bear testimony of my admiration of that truly 
 divine man, and I mould desire that the last words which I fnould 
 pronounce in this Academy, and from this place, might be the 
 name of — Michael Angelo*. 
 
 * Unfortunately for mankind, these were the last words pronounced by this great 
 painter from the Academical chair. He died about fourteen months after this Discourse 
 was delivered. 
 
 THE END OF THE DISCOURSES. 
 
 THREE 
 
THREE LETTERS 
 
 T O 
 
 THE IDLER. 
 
THE IDLER. 
 
 Numb. 76. Saturday, September 29, 1759. 
 
 To the IDLE R. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 I Was much pleased with your ridicule of those shallow Criticks, 
 whose judgment, though often right as far as it goes, yet reaches 
 only to inferior beauties ; and who, unable to comprehend the whole, 
 judge only by parts, and from thence determine the merit of ex- 
 tensive works. But there is another kind of Critick still worse, 
 who judges by narrow rules, and those too often false, and which 
 though they should be true, and founded on nature, will lead him 
 but a very little way towards the just estimation of the sublime 
 beauties in works of Genius \ for whatever part of an art can be ex- 
 ecuted or criticised by rules, that part is no longer the work of Ge- 
 nius, which implies excellence out of the reach of rules. For my 
 own part, I profess myself an Idler, and love to give my 
 judgment, such as it is, from my immediate perceptions, without 
 much fatigue of thinking ; and I am of opinion, that if a 
 man has not those perceptions right, it will be vain for him 
 to endeavour to supply their place by rules ; which may enable him 
 to talk more learnedly, but not to distinguish more acutely. An- 
 other reason which has lessened my affection for the study of 
 6 Criticism 
 
3 ? o THE IDLE R. 
 
 Criticism is, that Criticks, so far as I have observed, debar them- 
 selves from receiving any pleasure from the polite arts, at the same 
 time that they profess to love and admire them : for these rules being 
 always uppermost, give them such a propensity to criticize, that 
 instead of giving up the reins of their imagination into their 
 author's hands, their frigid minds are employed in examining 
 whether the performance be according to the rules of art. 
 
 To those who are resolved to be Criticks in spite of nature, and 
 at the same time have no great dispositicn to much reading 
 and study, I would recommend to assume the character of 
 Connoisseur, which may be purchased at a much cheaper rate 
 than that of a Critick in poetry. The remembrance of a few 
 names of Painters, with their general characters, and a few rules 
 of the Academy, which they may pick up among the Painters, will 
 go a great way towards making a very notable Connoisseur. 
 
 With a Gentleman of this cast, I visited lafl week the Cartoons 
 at Hampton-Court ; he was just returned from Italy, a Connoisseur 
 of course, and of course his mouth full of nothing but the Grace 
 of Raffaelle, the Purity of Domenichino, theLearning of 
 P^ussin, the Air of Guido, the Greatness of Taste of the 
 Caraccis, and the Sublimity and grand Contorno of Mi- 
 chael Angslo ; with all the rest of the cant of Criticism, which 
 he emitted with that volubility which generally those orators 
 have, who annex no ideas to their words. 
 
 As we were passing through the rooms, in our way to the 
 Gallery, I made him observe a whole length of Chades the first, 
 
 by 
 
T H E I D L E R. 55; 
 
 by Vandyck, ns a perfect representation of the character as well as 
 the figure of the man : He agreed it was very fine, but it wanted 
 spirit and contrast, and had not the flowing line, without which 
 a figure could not possibly be graceful. When we entered the 
 Gallery, I thought I could perceive him recollecting his Rules 
 by which he was to criticize Raffaelle. I shall pass over his 
 observation of the boats being too little, and other criticisms of 
 that kind, till we arrived at St. Paul preaching. " This, says he, is 
 esteemed the most excellent of all the Cartoons : what nobleness, 
 what dignity there is in that figure of St. Paul ! and yet what an 
 addition to that nobleness could Raffaelle have given, had the 
 art of Contrast been known in his time ; but above all, the flow- 
 ing line, which constitutes Grace and Beauty. You would not 
 then have seen an upright figure standing equally on both 
 legs, and both hands stretched forward in the same direc- 
 tion, and his drapery, to all appearance, without the least, art 
 of disposition." The following Picture is the Charge to Peter:. 
 " Here, says he, are twelve upright figures ; what a pity it is 
 that Raffaelle was not acquainted with the pyramidal prin- 
 ciple ; he would then have contrived the figures in the middle to 
 have been on higher ground, or the figures at the extremities 
 stooping or lying, which would not only have formed the group 
 into the shape of a pyramid, but likewise contrasted the standing 
 figures. Indeed, added he, I have often lamented that so great 
 a genius as Raffaelle had not lived in this enlightened age, 
 since the art has been reduced to principles, and had his 
 education in one of the modern Academies what glorious works- 
 might we then have expected from his divine pencil ! 
 
 I shall 
 
35i THE I D L E R. 
 
 I shall trouble you no longer with my friend's observations, 
 which, I suppose, you are now able to continue by yourself. 
 It is curious to observe, that at the same time that great 
 admiration is pretended for a name of fixed reputation, objections 
 are raised against those very qualities by which that great name 
 was acquired. 
 
 These Criticks are continually lamenting that Raffaelle had 
 not the Colouring and Harmony of Rubens, or the Light and 
 Shadow of Rembrant, without considering how much the 
 gay Harmony of the former, and Affectation of the latter, would 
 take from the Dignity of Raffaelle; and yet Rubens had 
 great Harmony, and Rembrant understood Light and Shadow ; 
 but what may be an excellence in a lower class of Painting, be- 
 comes a blemish in- a higher ; as the quick, spritely turn, which 
 is the life and beauty of epigram matick compositions, would 
 but ill suit with the majesty of heroick Poetry. 
 
 To conclude ; I would not be thought to infer from any thing 
 that has been said, that Rules are absolutely unnecessary, but 
 to censure scrupulosity, a servile attention to minute exactness, 
 which is sometimes inconsistent with higher excellency, and 
 is lost in the blaze of expanded genius. 
 
 I do not know whether you will think Painting a general 
 subject. By inserting this letter, perhaps you will incur the 
 censure a man would deserve, whose business being to entertain 
 a whole room, should turn his back on the company, and talk 
 
 to a particular person. 
 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 
Numb. 79. Saturday, Oftober 20, 1759. 
 
 To the IDLER. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 YOUR acceptance of a former letter on Painting, gives me 
 encouragement to offer a few more fketches on the same 
 subje<a. 
 
 Amongst the Painters and the writers on Painting, there is 
 one maxim universally admitted, and continually inculcated. 
 Imitate Nature is the invariable rule ; but I know none who 
 have explained in what manner this rule is to be understood; 
 the consequence of which is, that every one takes it in the most 
 obvious sense, — that objects are represented naturally, when they 
 have such relief that they seem real. It may appear strange, 
 perhaps, to hear this sense of the rule disputed ; but it must 
 be considered, that if the excellency of a Painter consisted only in 
 this kind of imitation, Painting must lose its rank, and be no 
 longer considered as a liberal art, and sister to Poetry ; this 
 imitation being merely mechanical, in which the slowest in- 
 tellect is always sure to succeed best j for the Painter of genius 
 cannot stoop to drudgery, in which the understanding has no 
 part ; and what pretence has the art to claim kindred with Poetry, 
 but by its power over the imagination ? To this power the 
 Painter of genius direct* his aim ; in this sense he studies Nature, 
 
 Vol L V y and 
 
354 THE IDLER, 
 
 and often arrives at his end, even by being unnatural, in the 
 confined sense of the word. 
 
 5 The grand style of Painting requires this minute attention to 
 be carefully avoided, and mus-t be kept as separate from it as 
 the style of Poetry from that of History. Poetical ornaments 
 destroy that air of truth and plainness which ought to characterize 
 History; but the very being of Poetry consists in departing from 
 this plain narration, and adopting every ornament that will warm 
 the imagination. To desire to see the excellencies of each style 
 united, to mingle the Dutch with the Italian School, is to join 
 contrarieties which cannot subsist together, and which destroy 
 the efficacy of each other. The Italian attends only to the 
 invariable, the great, and general ideas which are fixed and 
 inherent in universal Nature; the Dutch, on the contrary, to 
 literal truth and a minute exactness in the detail, as I may say, 
 of Nature modified by accident. The attention to these petty 
 peculiarities is the very cause of this naturalness so much admired 
 in the Dutch pictures, which, if we suppose it to be a beauty, 
 is certainly of a lower order, thit ought to give place to a 
 beauty of a superior kind, since one cannot be obtained but by 
 departing from the other. 
 
 If my opinion were asked concerning the works of Michael 
 Angelo, whether they would receive any advantage from pos- 
 sessing this mechanical merit, I should not scruple to say, they 
 would lose, in a great measure, the effect which they now 
 have on every mind susceptible of great and noble ideas. His 
 works may be said to be all genius and soul, and why should 
 
 they 
 
THE IDLER, 355 
 
 they be loaded with heavy matter, which can only counteract 
 his purpose by retarding the progress of the imagination ? 
 
 If this opinion should be thought one of the wild extravagancies 
 of Enthusiasm, I shall only say, that those who censure it are 
 not conversant in the works of the great Masters. It is very 
 difficult to determine the exact degree of enthusiasm that the 
 afts of Painting and Poetry may admit. There may perhaps 
 be too great an indulgence as well as too great a restraint 
 of imagination ; and if the one produces incoherent monsters, 
 the other produces what is full as bad, lifeless insipidity. An 
 intimate knowledge of the passions, and good sense, but not 
 common sense, must at last determine its limits. It has been 
 thought, and 1 believe with reason, that Michael Angela 
 sometimes transgressed those limits ; and I think I have seen 
 figures by him, of which it was very difficult to determine, whether 
 they were in the highest degree sublime or extremely ridiculous. 
 Such faults may be said to be the ebullitions of Genius ; but 
 at least he had this merit, that he never was insipid ; and 
 whatever passion his works may excite, they will always escape 
 contempt. 
 
 What I have had under consideration is the sublimest style, 
 particularly that of Michael Angelo, the Homer of Painting. 
 Other kinds may admit of this naturalness, which of the lowest 
 kind is the chief merit; but in Painting, as in Poetry, the highest 
 style has the least of common nature. 
 
 Y.y z 
 
 One 
 
3$6 THE IDLER. 
 
 One may very safely recommend a little more enthusiasm 
 to the modern Painters; too much is certainly not the vice of the 
 present age. The Italians seem to have been continually decli- 
 ning in this respect from the time of Michael Angelo to that of 
 Carlo Maratti, and from thence to the very pathos of insipidity 
 to which they are now sunk ; so that there is no need of re- 
 marking, that where I mentioned the Italian Painters in opposition, 
 to the Dutch, I mean not the moderns, but the heads of the 
 old Roman and Bolognian Schools; nor did I mean to include 
 in my idea of an Italian Painter, the Venetian School, which, 
 may be said to be the Dutch part of the Italian Genius. I 
 have only to add a word of advice to the Painters, — that how- 
 ever excellent they may be in painting naturally, they would 
 not flatter themselves very much upon it ; and to the Connois- 
 seurs, that when they see a cat or a fiddle painted so finely, 
 that, as the phrase is, It looks as if you could take it up, they 
 would not for that reason immediately compare the Painter to 
 Raffaelle and Michael Angelo. 
 
 N° 82. 
 
Numb. 82* Saturday, November 10, ij$g* 
 
 To the IDLER, 
 
 S I R, 
 
 DISCOURSING in my last letter on the different 
 practice of the. Italian and Dutch Painters, I observed 
 that " the Italian Painter attends only to the invariable, the 
 great, and general ideas, which are fixed and inherent in uni- 
 versal nature." 
 
 I was led into the subject of this letter by endeavouring to fix the 
 original cause of this conduct of the Italian Mas ters. If it can 
 be proved that by this choice they selected the most beautiful 
 part of the creation, it will shew how much their principles are 
 founded on reason, and, at the same time, discover the origin of 
 our ideas of beauty, 
 
 I suppose it will be easily granted, that no man can judge 
 whether any animal be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who 
 has seen only one of that species ; this is as conclusive in regard 
 to the human figure ; so that if a man, born blind, were to recover 
 his sight, and the most beautiful woman were brought before 
 him, he could not determine whether she was handsome or not ; 
 nor if the most beautiful and most deformed were produced, 
 could he any better determine to which he should give the 
 preference, having seen only those two. To distinguishbea uty, 
 
 then* 
 
35$ THE IDLER. 
 
 then, implies the having seen many individuals of that species. If 
 it is afked, how is more fkill acquired by the observation of greater 
 numbers ? I answer, that, in consequence of having seen many, the 
 power is acquired, even without seeking after it, of distinguishing 
 between accidental blemishes and excrescences which are con- 
 tinually varying the surface of Nature's works, and the invariable 
 general form which Nature most frequently produces, and always 
 seems to intend in her productions. 
 
 Thus amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, 
 though no two can be found exadlly alike, yet the general form is in- 
 variable : A Naturalist, before he chose one as a sample, would 
 examine many, since if he took the first that occurred it might 
 have, by accident or otherwise, such a form as that it would 
 scarce be known to belong to that species ; he selects as the 
 Painter does, the most beautiful, that is, the most general form 
 of nature. 
 
 Every species of the animal as well as the vegetable creation 
 may be said to have a fixed or determinate form, towards which 
 Nature is continually inclining, like various lines terminating 
 in the center ; or it maybe compared to pendulums vibrating in 
 different directions over one central point ; and as they all crofs 
 the center, though only one pafTes through any other point, fo 
 it will be found that perfect beauty is oftener produced by nature 
 than deformity; I do not mean than deformity in general, but 
 than any one kind of deformity. To inftance in a particular part 
 of a feature ; the line that forms the ridge of the nofe is beautiful 
 when it is flraightj this then is the central form, which is 
 
 ■3 oftener 
 
THE IDLER* 3sg 
 
 oftener found than either concave, convex, or any other irregular 
 form that shall be proposed. As we are then more accustomed 
 to beauty than deformity, we may conclude that to be the reason 
 why we approve and admire it, as we approve and admire customs 
 and fashions of dress for no other reason than that we are used 
 to them ; so that though habit and custom cannot be said to be 
 the cause of beauty, it is certainly the cause of our liking it : and 
 I have no doubt but that if we were more used to deformity 
 than beauty, deformity would then lose the idea now annexed to 
 it, and take that of beauty ; as if the whole World should agree, 
 that yes and no mould change their meaning ; yes would then 
 deny, and no would affirm. 
 
 Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this argument, 
 and endeavours to fix a general criterion of beauty respecting 
 different species, or to shew why one species is more beautiful 
 than another, it will be required from him first to prove that one 
 species is really more beautiful than another. That we prefer 
 one to the other, and with very good reason, will be readily 
 granted j but it does not follow from thence that we think it a 
 more beautiful form j for we have no criterion of form by which 
 to determine our judgment. He who says a swan is more beauti- 
 ful than a dove, means little more than that he has more plea- 
 sure in seeing a swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of 
 its motions, or its being a more rare bird ; and he who gives the 
 preference to the dove, does it from some association of ideas of 
 innocence which he always annexes to the dove; but if he pretends 
 to defend the preference he gives to one or the other by en- 
 deavouring to prove that this more beautiful form proceeds from 
 
 a par- 
 
2 6o THE IDLER, 
 
 a particular gradation of magnitude, undulation of a curve, or 
 -direction of a line, or whatever other conceit of his imagination 
 'he shall fix on, as a criterion of form, he will be continually con- 
 tradicting himself, and find at last that the great Mother of Nature 
 will notice subjected to such narrow rules. Among the various 
 reasons why we prefer one part of her works to another, the most 
 general, I believe, is habit and custom ; custom makes, in a 
 certain sense, white black, and black white ; it is custom alone 
 determines our preference of the colour of the Europeans to the 
 Ethiopians, and they, for the same reason, prefer their own co- 
 lour to ours. I suppose no body will doubt, if one of their 
 Painters were to paint the Goddess of Beauty, but that he would 
 represent her black, with thick lips, flat nose, and woolly hair ; 
 find, it seems to me, he would act very unnaturally if he did not : 
 -for by what criterion will any one dispute the propriety of his 
 idea ! We, indeed, say, that the form and colour of the Euro- 
 pean is preferable to that of the Ethiopian ; but I know of no 
 other reason we have for it, but that we are more accustomed 
 to it. It is absurd to say, that beauty is possessed o f attractive 
 powers, which irresistibly seize the corresponding mind v/ith love 
 and admiration, since that argument is equally conclusive in favour 
 of the white and the black philosopher. 
 
 The black and white nations must, in respect of beauty, be 
 considered as of different kinds, at leaft a different species of the 
 same kind ; from one of which to the other, as I observed, no 
 inference can be drawn. 
 
 Novelty 
 
T H E I D L E R. 361 
 Novelty issaidto be oneof the causes of beauty. That novelty 
 is a very sufficient reason why we should admire, is not denied ; 
 but because it is uncommon, is it therefore beautiful ? The 
 beauty that is produced by colour, as when we prefer one bird to 
 another, though of the same form, on account of its colour, 
 has nothing to do with the argument, which reaches only to . 
 form. I have here considered the word Beauty as being properly 
 applied to form alone. There is a necessity of fixing this con- 
 fined sense j for there can be no argument, if the sense of the 
 word is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose may 
 as well be said to be beautiful, becaufe it has a fine smell, as a 
 bird because of its colour. When we apply the word Beauty, we 
 do not mean always by it a more beautiful form, but something 
 valuable on account of its rarity, usefulness, colour, or any other 
 property. A horse is said to be a beautiful animal ; but had 
 a horse as few good qualities as a tortoise, I do not imagine that 
 he would then be deemed beautiful. 
 
 A fitness to the end proposed, is said to be another cause of 
 beauty ; but supposing we were proper judges of what form is 
 the most proper in an animal to constitute strength or swiftness, 
 we always determine concerning its beauty, before we exert our 
 understanding to judge of its fitness. 
 
 From what has been said, it may be inferred, that the works 
 of Nature, if we compare one species with another, are all equally 
 beautiful ; and that preference is given from custom, or some 
 association of ideas : And that in creatures of the same species, 
 beauty is the medium or centre of all its various forms. 
 
 To 
 
3 6i THE IDLER. 
 
 To conclude, then, by way of corollary : if it has been pro- 
 ved that the Painter, by attending to the invariable and general 
 ideas of Nature, produces beauty, he must, by regarding minute 
 particularities, and accidental discriminations, deviate from the 
 universal rule, and pollute his canvas with deformity. 
 
 1HL END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.