4 MR. angerstein’s collection. 
 
 probably as an advantage, by making the sight 
 of a fine original picture an event so much 
 the more memorable, and the impression so 
 much the deeper. A visit to a genuine Col¬ 
 lection is like going a pilgrimage—it is an act 
 of devotion performed at the shrine of Art! It 
 is as if there were but one copy of a book 
 in the world, locked up in some curious casket, 
 which, by special favour, we had been permitted 
 to open, and peruse (as we must) with unac¬ 
 customed relish. The words would, in that 
 case, leave stings in the mind of the reader, and 
 every letter appear of gold. The ancients, before 
 the invention of printing, were nearly in the 
 same situation, with respect to books, that we 
 are with regard to pictures ; and at the revival 
 of letters, we find the same unmingled satis¬ 
 faction, or fervid enthusiasm, manifested in the 
 pursuit or the discovery of an old manuscript, 
 that connoisseurs still feel in the purchase and 
 possession of an antique cameo, or a fine speci¬ 
 men of the Italian school of painting. Lite¬ 
 rature was not then cheap and vulgar, nor was 
 there what is called a reading public; and the 
 pride of intellect, like the pride of art, or the 
 pride of birth, was confined to the privileged 
 few! 
 
 We sometimes, in viewing a celebrated Col¬ 
 lection, meet with an old favourite, a first love 
 in such matters, that we have not seen for 
 many years, which greatly enhances the de- 
 
THE 
 
 DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 -♦- 
 
 It was on the 5th of November that we went to 
 see this Gallery. The morning was mild, calm, 
 pleasant: it was a day to ruminate on the ob¬ 
 ject we had in view. It was the time of year 
 
 When yellow leaves, or few, or none, do hang 
 
 Upon the branches;— 
 
 their scattered gold was strongly contrasted with 
 the dark green spiral shoots of the cedar trees 
 that skirt the road ; the sun shone faint and 
 watery, as if smiling his lastj Winter gently let 
 go the hand of Summer, and the green fields, 
 wet with the mist, anticipated the return of 
 Spring. At the end of a beautiful little village, 
 Dulwich College appeared in view, with modest 
 state, yet mindful of the olden time ; and the 
 name of Allen and his compeers rushed full upon 
 the memory! How many races of school-boys 
 have played within its walls, or stammered out 
 
 c 2 
 
32 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 There are several heads of Holbein scattered 
 up and down the different compartments. We 
 need hardly observe that they all have character 
 in the extreme, so that we may be said to be 
 acquainted with the people they represent: but 
 then they give nothing but character, and 
 only one part of that, viz. the dry, the literal, the 
 concrete, and fixed. They want the addition of 
 passion and beauty; but they are the finest 
 caput mortuums of expression that ever were 
 made. Hans Holbein had none of the volatile 
 essence of genius in his composition. If 
 portrait-painting is the prose of the art, his 
 pictures are the prose of portrait-painting. Yet 
 he is “areverend name” in art, and one of the 
 benefactors of the human mind. He has left 
 faces behind him that we would give the world 
 to have seen, and there they are—stamped on 
 his canvas for ever! Who, in reading over 
 the names of certain individuals, does not feel a 
 yearning in his breast to know their features 
 and their lineaments ? We look through a small 
 frame, and lo ! at the distance of three cen¬ 
 turies, we have before us the figures of Anne 
 Boleyn, of the virtuous Cranmer, the bigotted 
 Queen Mary, the noble Surrey—as if we had 
 seen them in their life-time, not perhaps in 
 their best moods or happiest attitudes, but as 
 they sometimes appeared, no doubt. We know 
 at least what sort of looking people they were : 
 our minds are made easy on that score; the 
 “ body and limbs” are there, and we may “ add 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 3/ 
 
 The Fifth Room is the smallest, but the 
 most precious in its contents.—No. 283, Spanish 
 Beggar Boys , by Murillo, is the triumph of this 
 Collection, and almost of painting. In the 
 imitation of common life, nothing ever went 
 beyond it, or, as far as we can judge, came up 
 to it. A Dutch picture is mechanical, and 
 mere still life to it. But this is life itself. The 
 boy at play on the ground is miraculous. It is 
 done with a few dragging strokes of the pencil, 
 and with a little tinge of colour ; but the 
 mouth, the nose, the eyes, the chin, are as 
 brimful as they can hold of expression, of arch 
 roguery, of animal spirits, of vigorous, elastic 
 health. The vivid, glowing, cheerful look is 
 such as could only be found beneath a southern 
 sun. The fens and dykes of Holland (with all 
 our respect for them) could never produce such 
 an epitome of the vital principle. The other 
 boy, standing up with the pitcher in his hand, 
 and a crust of bread in his mouth, is scarcely 
 less excellent. His sulky, phlegmatic indif¬ 
 ference speaks for itself. The companion to 
 this picture, 284, is also very fine. Compared 
 with these imitations of nature, as faultless as 
 they are spirited, Murillo’s Virgins and Angels, 
 however good in themselves, look vapid, and 
 even vulgar. A Child Sleeping (330), by the 
 same painter, is a beautiful and masterly study. 
 —No. 128, a Musical Party, by Giorgione, is 
 well worthy the notice of the connoisseur.— 
 
44 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 that which gathers upon old wine. These sprink¬ 
 lings of archaisms and obsolete turns of expres¬ 
 sion (so abhorrent to the fashionable reader) are 
 intellectual links that connect the generations 
 together, and enlarge our knowledge of language 
 and of nature. Of the two, we prefer black-letter 
 to hot-pressed paper ! Does not every language 
 change and wear out ? Do not the most popular 
 writers become quaint and old-fashioned every 
 fifty or every hundred years ? Is there not a con¬ 
 stant conflict of taste and opinion between those 
 who adhere to the established and triter modes 
 of expression, and those who affect glossy innova¬ 
 tions, in advance of the age ? It is pride enough 
 for the best authors to have been read. This ap¬ 
 plies to their own country; and to all others, 
 they are “ a book sealed.” But Rubens is as good 
 in Holland as he is in Flanders, where he was 
 born, in Italy or in Spain, in England, or in Scot¬ 
 land—no, there alone he is not understood. The 
 Scotch understand nothing but what is Scotch. 
 What has the dry, husky, economic eye of Scot¬ 
 land to do with the florid hues and luxuriant 
 extravagance of Rubens ? Nothing. They like 
 Wilkie’s pauper style better. 
 
 It may be said that translations remedy the 
 want of universality of language : but prints give 
 (at least) as good an idea of pictures as transla¬ 
 tions do of poems, or of any productions of the 
 press that employ the colouring of style and im¬ 
 agination. Gil Bias is translateable; Racine and 
 
52 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 pleting the gradation. Then the bright scarf 
 suspended in the air connects itself with the 
 glowing clouds, and deepens the solemn azure 
 of the sky: Actaeon’s bow and arrows fallen on 
 the ground are also red; and there is a little 
 flower on the brink of the Bath which catches 
 and pleases the eye, saturated tvith this colour. 
 The yellowish grey of the earth purifies the low 
 tone of the figures where they are in half-sha¬ 
 dow ; and this again is enlivened by the leaden- 
 coloured fountain of the bath, which is set oif (or 
 kept down in its proper place) by the blue vest¬ 
 ments strewn near it. The figure of Actaeon is 
 spirited and natural; it is that of a bold rough 
 hunter in the early ages, struck with surprise, 
 abashed with beauty. The forms of some of the 
 female figures are elegant enough, particularly 
 that of Diana in the story of Calisto; and there 
 is a very pretty-faced girl mischievously drag¬ 
 ging the culprit forward ; but it is the texture of 
 the flesh that is thoroughly delicious, unrivalled, 
 surpassingly fair. The landscape canopies the 
 living scene with a sort of proud, disdainful 
 consciousness. The trees nod to it, and the 
 hills roll at a distance in a sea of colour. Every 
 where tone, not form, predominates—there is 
 not a distinct line in the picture—but a gusto, 
 a rich taste of colour is left upon the eye, 
 as if it were the palate, and the diapason of 
 picturesque harmony is full to overflowing. 
 “ Oh Titian and Nature ! which of you copied 
 the other ?” 
 
THE GR0SVEN0R PICTURES. 89 
 
 task, abstract the idea of exclusive property, and 
 think only of those images of beauty and of 
 grandeur which we can carry away with us in 
 our minds, and have every where before us. 
 Let us take some of these, and describe them 
 how we can. 
 
 There is one—we see it now—the Man with a 
 Hawk, by Rembrandt. “ In our mind’s eye, 
 Horatio!” What is the difference between this 
 idea which we have brought away with us, and 
 the picture on the wall ? Has it lost any of its 
 tone, its ease, its depth ? The head turns round 
 in the same graceful moving attitude, the eye 
 carelessly meets ours, the tufted beard grows to 
 the chin, the hawk flutters and balances himself 
 on his favourite perch, his master’s hand; and a 
 shadow seems passing over the picture, just 
 leaving a light in one corner of it behind, to 
 give a livelier effect to the whole. There is no 
 mark of the pencil, no jagged points or solid 
 masses ; it is all air, and twilight might be sup¬ 
 posed to have drawn his veil across it. It is as 
 much an idea on the canvas as it is in the mind. 
 There are no means employed, as far as you can 
 discover—you see nothing but a simple, grand, 
 and natural effect. It is impalpable as a thought, 
 intangible as a sound—nay, the shadows have a 
 breathing harmony, and fling round an undulat¬ 
 ing echo of themselves. 
 
 At every fall smoothing the raven down 
 
 Of darkness till it smiles ! 
 
PICTURES AT WILTON. 
 
 103 
 
 Fonthill-Abbey, which was formerly hermeti¬ 
 cally sealed against all intrusion,* is at present 
 open to the whole world; and Wilton-House, 
 and Longford-Castle, which were formerly open 
 to every one, are at present shut, except to 
 petitioners, and a favoured few. Why is this 
 greater degree of strictness in the latter in¬ 
 stances resorted to ? In proportion as the 
 taste for works of art becomes more general, 
 do these Noble Persons wish to set bounds to 
 and disappoint public curiosity ? Do they think 
 that the admiration bestowed on fine pictures 
 or rare sculpture lessens their value, or divides 
 the property, as well as the pleasure, with the 
 possessor ? Or do they think that setting aside 
 the formality of these new regulations, three 
 persons in the course of a whole year would 
 
 * This is not absolutely true. Mr. Banks the younger, 
 and another young gentleman, formed an exception to this 
 rule, and contrived to get into the Abbey-grounds, in 
 spite of warning, just as the recluse proprietor happened 
 to be passing by the spot. Instead, however, of manifest¬ 
 ing any displeasure, he gave them a most polite reception, 
 shewed them whatever they expressed a wish to see, 
 asked them to dinner, and, after passing the day in the 
 greatest conviviality, dismissed them by saying, “ That they 
 might get out as they got in.” This was certainly a good 
 jest. Our youthful adventurers on forbidden ground, in 
 the midst of their festive security, might have expected 
 some such shrewd turn from the antithetical genius of the 
 author of Yathek, who makes his hero, in a paroxysm of 
 impatience, call out for “ the Koran and sugar 
 
PICTURES AT FONTHILL. 
 
 109 
 
 Above all pain, all passion, and all pride ; 
 that draws the evil out of human life, that, while 
 we look at it, transfers the same sentiment to 
 our own breasts, and makes us feel as if nothing 
 mean or little could ever disturb us again ! This 
 is high art; the rest is mechanical. But there is 
 nothing like this at Fonthill (oh! no), but every 
 thing which is the very reverse. As this, how¬ 
 ever, is an extreme opinion of ours, and may be 
 a prejudice, we shall endeavour to support it by 
 facts. There is not then a single Titian in all 
 this boasted and expensive Collection—there is 
 not a Raphael-—there is not a Rubens (except 
 one small sketch)-—-there is not a Guido, nor a 
 Vandyke—there is not a Rembrandt, there is 
 not a Nicola Poussin, nor a fine Claude. The 
 two Altieri Claudes, which might have redeem¬ 
 ed Fonthill, Mr. Beckford sold. What shall we 
 say to a Collection which uniformly and deli¬ 
 berately rejects every great work, and every 
 great name in art, to make room for idle rarities 
 and curiosities of mechanical skill ? It was 
 hardly necessary to build a cathedral to set up 
 a toy-shop! Who would paint a miniature- 
 picture to hang it at the top of the Monument ? 
 This huge pile (capable of better things) is cut 
 up into a parcel of little rooms, and those little 
 rooms are stuck full of little pictures, and bijou¬ 
 terie. Mr. Beckford may talk of his Diamond 
 Berchem, and so on : this is but the language of 
 a petit-maxtre in art; but the author of Vathek 
 
110 
 
 PICTURES AT FONTHILL. 
 
 (with his leave) is not a petit-maitre. His genius, 
 as a writer, “hath a devil:” his taste in pictures 
 is the quintessence and rectified spirit of still- 
 life. He seems not to be susceptible of the 
 poetry of painting, or else to set his face against 
 it. It is obviously a first principle with him to 
 exclude whatever has feeling or imagination—to 
 polish the surface, and suppress the soul of art 
 — to proscribe, by a sweeping clause or at one 
 fell swoop, every thing approaching to grace, or 
 beauty, or grandeur—to crush the sense of plea¬ 
 sure or of power in embryo—and to reduce all 
 nature and art, as far as possible, to the texture 
 and level of a China dish—smooth, glittering, 
 cold, and unfeeling ! We do not object so 
 much to the predilection for Teniers, Wouver- 
 mans, or Ostade—we like to see natural ob¬ 
 jects naturally painted—but we unequivocally 
 hate the affectedly mean, the elaborately little, 
 the ostentatiously perverse and distorted, Poe- 
 lemberg’s walls of amber, Mieris’s groups of 
 steel, Vanderwerf’s ivory flesh ;—yet these are 
 the chief delights of the late proprietor of Font- 
 hill-abbey ! Is it that his mind is “ a volcano 
 burnt out,” and that he likes his senses to re¬ 
 pose and be gratified with Persian carpets and 
 enamelled pictures ? Or are there not traces of the 
 same infirmity of feeling even in the high-souled 
 Vathek, who compliments the complexion of the 
 two pages of Fakreddin as being equal to “the 
 porcelain of Franguestan ?” Alas! who would 
 
PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 137 
 
 same graceful, matron-like air. Is it we that 
 have changed, or the picture ? In general our 
 expectations tally pretty well with our after¬ 
 observations, but there was a falling-off in the 
 present instance. There is a fine whole-length 
 of a lady of quality of that day (we think Lady 
 Cleveland) ; but the master-piece of Vandyke’s 
 pencil here is his Charles I. on Horseback. It is 
 the famous cream or fawn-coloured horse, which, 
 of all the creatures that ever were painted, is 
 surely one of the most beautiful. 
 
 Sure never were seen 
 Two such beautiful ponies ; 
 
 All others are brutes, 
 
 But these macaronies. 
 
 Its steps are delicate, as if it moved to some 
 soft measure or courtly strain, or disdained the 
 very ground it trod upon ; its form all lightness 
 and elegance ; the expression quick and fiery ; 
 the colour inimitable; the texture of the skin 
 sensitive and tremblingly alive all over, as if it 
 would shrink from the smallest touch. The 
 portrait of Charles is not equal; but there is a 
 landscape-back-ground, which in breezy fresh¬ 
 ness seems almost to rival the airy spirit and 
 delicacy of the noble animal. There are also one 
 or two fine Rembrandts (particularly a Jacob 
 and Esau )—an early Raphael, the Adoration of 
 some saint, hard and stiff, but carefully de¬ 
 signed ; and a fine, sensible, graceful head of the 
 
ON 
 
 HOGARTH’S MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 The superiority of the pictures of Hogarth, which 
 we have seen in the late collection at the British 
 Institution,* to the common prints, is confined 
 chiefiy to the Marriage a-la-Mude. We shall at¬ 
 tempt to illustrate a few of their most striking 
 excellences, more particularly with reference to 
 the expression of character. Their merits are 
 indeed so prominent, and have been so often dis¬ 
 cussed, that it may be thought difficult to point 
 out any new beauties ; but they contain so much 
 truth of nature, they present the objects to the 
 eye under so many aspects and bearings, admit 
 of so many constructions, and are so pregnant 
 with meaning, that the subject is in a manner 
 inexhaustible. 
 
 Boccacio, the most refined and sentimental of 
 all the novel-writers, has been stigmatised as a 
 mere inventor of licentious tales, because readers 
 
 * They are now in the National Gallery, Nos. 113—118. .£*2 
 
168 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 and comparatively feeble. His style is in some 
 degree mannered and coniined. For instance, he 
 is without the force, passion, and grandeur of 
 Raphael, who, however, possessed his softness of 
 expression, but of expression only ■ and in colour, 
 in light and shade, and other qualities, was quite 
 inferior to Correggio. We may, perhaps, solve 
 this apparent contradiction by saying, that he 
 applied the power of his mind to a greater variety 
 of objects than others ; but that this power was 
 still of the same character, consisting in a certain 
 exquisite sense of the harmonious, the soft and 
 graceful in form, colour, and sentiment, but 
 with a deficiency of strength, and a tendency to 
 effeminacy in all these. 
 
 After the names of Raphael and Correggio, 
 I shall mention that of Guido, whose female 
 faces are exceedingly beautiful and ideal, but 
 altogether common-place and vapid compared 
 with those of Raphael or Correggio ; and they 
 are so for no other reason but that the general 
 idea they convey is not enriched and strengthened 
 by an intense contemplation of nature. For the 
 same reason, I can conceive nothing more un¬ 
 like the antique than the figures of Poussin, 
 except as to the preservation of the costume ; 
 and it is perhaps chiefly owing to the habit of 
 studying his art at second-hand, or by means of 
 scientific rules, that the great merits of that able 
 painter, whose understanding and genius are un¬ 
 questionable, are confined to his choice of sub- 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 187 
 
 Bridge at Llangollen, are the principal of Wil¬ 
 son's English landscapes. 
 
 In general this artist’s views of home scenery 
 want almost every thing that ought to recom¬ 
 mend them. The subjects he has chosen are not 
 well fitted for the landscape painter, and there 
 is nothing in the execution to redeem them. 
 Ill-shaped mountains, or great heaps of earth, 
 —trees that grow against them without character 
 or elegance,—motionless waterfalls,—a want of 
 relief, of transparency and distance, without the 
 imposing grandeur of real magnitude (which it 
 is scarcely within the province of art to give),— 
 are the chief features and defects of this class 
 of his pictures. 
 
 The same general objections apply to Solitude 
 and to one or two other pictures near it, which 
 are masses of common-place confusion. In more 
 confined scenes the effect must depend almost 
 entirely in the differences in the execution and 
 the details ; for the difference of colour alone is 
 not sufficient to give relief to objects placed at 
 a small distance from the eye. But in Wilson 
 there are commonly no details, — all is loose 
 and general; and this very circumstance, which 
 might assist him in giving the mighty contrasts 
 of light and shade, deprived his pencil of all force 
 and precision within a limited space. In general, 
 air is necessary to the landscape painter j and, 
 for this reason, the lakes of Cumberland and 
 Westmoreland afford few subjects for landscape 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 207 
 
 Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse is neither the 
 Tragic Muse nor Mrs. Siddons 5 and I have still 
 stronger objections to Garrick between Tragedy 
 and Comedy. 
 
 There is a striking similarity between Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds’ theory and his practice; and, 
 as each of these has been appealed to in support 
 of the other, it is necessary that I should ex¬ 
 amine both. Sir Joshua’s practice was generally 
 confined to the illustration of that part of his 
 theory which relates to the more immediate 
 imitation of nature; and it is to what he says 
 on this subject that I shall chiefly direct my 
 observations at present. 
 
 He lays it down, as a general and invariable 
 rule, that “ the great style in art, and the most 
 perfect imitation of nature, consists in avoid¬ 
 ing the details and peculiarities of particular 
 objects." This sweeping principle he applies 
 almost indiscriminately to portrait, history, and 
 landscape; and he appears to have been led to 
 the conclusion itself from supposing the imita¬ 
 tion of particulars to be inconsistent with general 
 rule and effect. It appears to me that the 
 highest perfection of the art depends, not on 
 separating, but on uniting general truth and 
 effect with individual distinctness and accuracy. 
 
 First,—It is said that the great style in paint¬ 
 ing, as it relates to the immediate imitation of 
 external nature, consists in avoiding the details 
 of particular objects. It consists neither in 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 213 
 
 Much has been said of historical portraits, 
 and I have no objection to this phrase, if 
 properly understood. The giving of historical 
 truth to a portrait means, then, the represent¬ 
 ing of the individual under one consistent, 
 probable, and striking view; or shewing the 
 different features, muscles, &c., in one action, 
 and modified by one principle. A portrait thus 
 painted may be said to be historical; that is, 
 it carries internal evidence of truth and pro¬ 
 priety with it; and the number of individual 
 peculiarities, as long as they are true to nature, 
 cannot lessen, but must add to, the strength 
 of the general impression. 
 
 It might be shewn, if there were room in 
 this place, that Sir Joshua has constructed his 
 theory of the ideal in art upon the same mis¬ 
 taken principle of the negation or abstraction 
 of a particular nature. The ideal is not a 
 negative, but a positive thing. The leaving 
 out the details or peculiarities of an individual 
 face does not make it one jot more ideal. To 
 paint history is to paint nature as answering 
 to a general, predominant, or pre-conceived idea 
 in the mind, of strength, beauty, action, passion, 
 thought, &c.; but the way to do this is not 
 to leave out the details, but to incorporate the 
 general idea with the details : that is, to show 
 the same expression actuating and modifying 
 every movement of the muscles, and the same 
 character preserved consistently through every 
 
260 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 purpose. Art is comparatively weak and incon¬ 
 gruous, being at once a miniature and caricature 
 of nature. We grant that a tolerable sketch of 
 Arthur’s seat, and the adjoining view, is better 
 than Primrose Hill itself (our favourite Prim¬ 
 rose Hill!), but no pencil can transform or dandle 
 Primrose Hill into a thing of equal character 
 and sublimity with Arthur’s seat:—a concession 
 which gives us some pain to make. 
 
 We do not recollect a more striking illustra¬ 
 tion of the difference between art and nature, 
 in this respect, than Mr. Martin’s very sin¬ 
 gular, and, in some things, very meritorious 
 pictures. But he strives to outdo nature. He 
 wants to give more than she does, or than his 
 subject requires or admits. He sub-divides his 
 groups into infinite littleness, and exaggerates 
 his scenery into absolute immensity. His figures 
 are like rows of shiny pins; his mountains are 
 piled up one upon the back of the other, like the 
 stories of houses. He has no notion of the moral 
 principle in all art, that a part may be greater 
 than the whole. He reckons that if one range 
 of lofty square hills is good, another range above 
 that with clouds between must be better. He 
 thus wearies the imagination, instead of ex¬ 
 citing it. We see no end of the journey, and 
 turn back in disgust. We are tired of the effort, 
 we are tired of the monotony of this sort of re¬ 
 duplication of the same object. We were satis¬ 
 fied before ; but it seems the painter was not. 
 
262 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 laws, and the effect is visible to those, and those 
 only, who look for it in actual objects. 
 
 This is the great and master-excellence of the 
 Elgin Marbles, that they do not seem to be the 
 outer surface of a hard and immoveable block of 
 marble, but to be actuated by an internal ma¬ 
 chinery, and composed of the same soft and flex¬ 
 ible materials as the human body. The skin (or 
 the outside) seems to be protruded or tightened 
 by the natural action of a muscle beneath it. 
 This result is miraculous in art: in nature it is 
 easy and unavoidable. That is to say, art has to 
 imitate or produce certain effects or appearances 
 without the natural causes : but the human un¬ 
 derstanding can hardly be so true to those causes 
 as the causes to themselves; and hence the 
 necessity (in this sort of simulated creation) of 
 recurring at every step to the actual objects 
 and appearances of nature. 
 
 Having shown so far how indispensable it is 
 for art to identify itself with nature, in order to 
 preserve the truth of imitation, without which 
 it is destitute of value or meaning, it may be 
 said to follow, as a necessary consequence, that 
 the only way in which art can rise to greater 
 dignity or excellence is by finding out models 
 of greater dignity and excellence in nature. Will 
 any one, looking at the Theseus, for example, 
 say that it could spring merely from the artist’s 
 brain, or that it could be done from a common, 
 ill-made, or stunted body r The fact is that its 
 
298 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 than ninety, he retired from his profession, and 
 used to hold up the palsied right hand that had 
 painted lords and ladies for upwards of sixty 
 years, and smiled, with unabated good humour, 
 at the vanity of human wishes. Take him with 
 all his faults or follies, “ we scarce shall look 
 upon his like again !” 
 
 After speaking of him, we are ashamed to go 
 back to Fonthill, lest one drop of gall should fall 
 from our pen. No, for the rest of our way, 
 we will dip it in the milk of human kindness, and 
 deliver all with charity. There are four or five 
 very curious cabinets—a triple jewel cabinet of 
 opaque, with panels of transparent amber, dazzles 
 the eye like a temple of the New Jerusalem— 
 the Nautilus’s shell, with the triumph of Nep¬ 
 tune and Amphitrite, is elegant, and the table 
 on which it stands superb—the cups, vases, and 
 sculptures, by Cellini, Berg, and John of Bologna, 
 are as admirable as they are rare—the Berghem 
 (a sea-port) is a fair specimen of that master— 
 the Poulterer’s Shop, by G. Douw, is passable— 
 there are some middling Bassans—the Sibylla 
 Libyca, of L. Caracci, is in the grand style of 
 composition—there is a good copy of a head by 
 Parmegiano—the painted windows in the centre 
 of the Abbey have a surprising effect—the form 
 of the building (which was raised by torch-light) 
 is fantastical, to say the least—and the grounds, 
 which are extensive and fine from situation, are 
 laid out with the hand of a master. A quantity 
 
uii 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 454 . 
 
 455 . 
 
 456 . 
 457 - 
 458 . 
 
 459 . 
 
 460 . 
 
 461 . 
 
 462 . 
 
 463 . 
 
 464 . 
 
 465 . 
 
 466 . 
 
 467 > 
 to V 
 478 -* 
 
 479 . 
 
 480 . 
 
 481 . 
 
 482 . 
 
 483 . 
 
 484 . 
 
 485 . 
 
 486 . 
 
 487 . 
 
 488 . 
 489 - 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 St. John Baptizing Christ in the - ) 
 
 River Jordan . } 
 
 Jacob Stealing the Blessing. 
 
 A Sea Port . 
 
 St. Francis with the Infant Jesus .... 
 Venus and Cupid, by Pontormo ; tl^e \ 
 
 outline . } 
 
 Dogs . 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering . 
 
 A Landscape, “The Devil Sowing) 
 
 Tares among the Wheat ” . ) 
 
 The Judgment of Midas . 
 
 The Deluge . 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering. 
 
 Virgin and Child, with Saints. 
 
 Virgin and Child, with Tobit and the 
 Angel./ 
 
 Twelve Pictures representing the his- ’i 
 
 tory of Cupid and Psyche.J 
 
 Mary, Queen of James II. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Portrait of a Man . 
 
 A Man’s Head. 
 
 Portrait of a Man . 
 
 Judith and Holofernes . 
 
 Flowers. 
 
 The Last Supper . 
 
 Head of an Old Man. 
 
 St. Peter . 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 ! THE aUEEN’S DRAWING ROOM. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Francesco Francia, 
 
 Schiavone. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Michael Angelo. 
 Snyders. 
 
 Palma Vecchio. 
 
 Van Uden. 
 
 I Schiavone. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Giorgione . 
 
 Titian. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller. 
 [After] Titian , 
 Anonymous. 
 Giorgione. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Baptist. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 490 . 
 
 491 . 
 
 492 . 
 
 493 . 
 
 494 . 
 
 495 . 
 
 496 . 
 
 497 . 
 
 498 . 
 
 499 . 
 
 500 . 
 
 501 . 
 602 . 
 
 503 . 
 
 504 . 
 
 I 
 
 The ceiling, painted by Verrio , repre¬ 
 sents Queen Anne in the character 
 of Justice. 
 
 George III. at Coxheath Camp . 
 
 Queen Charlotte, and her thirteen *i 
 
 children in the background./ 
 
 The Prince of Wales and Duke of York 
 The Duke of Clarence and Duke of'i 
 
 Kent . J 
 
 The Apotheosis of the Infant Princes, ) 
 
 Octavius and Alfred .) 
 
 The Duke of Cumberland, and two'i 
 
 Princesses./ 
 
 The Dukes of Cumberland, Sussex, ■» 
 Cambridge, and three Princesses.. / 
 Queen Charlotte and Princess Royal.. 
 
 The Swearing of Hannibal . 
 
 Peter denying Christ. 
 
 The Departure of Regulus. 
 
 The Death of General Wolfe . 
 
 St. George and the Dragon . 
 
 The Wife of Arminius brought cap- "i 
 
 tive to Germanicus. / 
 
 Cyrus presented to his Grandfather ... 
 
 West. 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 A.T 
 
 STOTJRHEAD, 
 
 3Tijt Jkat of Jr>n: iKtdjavtJ Colt f^oarc, 33art., 
 
 STOURTON, WILTS. 
 
 No. Title of Picture. Painted hy 
 
 IN THE ENTRANCE HALL. 
 
 1. Sir Richard Hnare. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 3. Henry Hoare, his eldest Son (on a| 
 
 4. Henry Hoare, his third Son ^leaning l 
 
 on a Pedestal) ./ 
 
 5. Richard Hoare, second Son of the "i 
 
 first named Henry ...J 
 
 6 . Jane, daughter of Mr. William Ben-'l 
 
 son, and Wife of the first named > 
 
 Dahl. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 „ Air" M ’ ^ Bon 
 
 8 . 1 Susannah, Daughter of the first"l 
 | named Henry, and first Countess > 
 
 
 
 9. : Anne, second Daughter of the same .. 
 io i 
 
 Woodforde. 
 
 J. Ward. 
 
 Angello. 
 
 Atkinson. 
 
 Hobbema. 
 
 Filippo Hackest. 
 
 T. Barker } of Bath. 
 
 121 
 
 (On each side of the Fire-place) Cattle 
 15. (On the West side) Fish and Vege-\ 
 table Market./ 
 
 17 . (Beside the Marble Table) Landscape.. 
 
 18. An Italian Landscape. 
 
 19 . Landscape. 
 
lit 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 153 . 
 
 154 . 
 
 155 . 
 
 156 . 
 
 157 . 
 
 158 . 
 
 159 . 
 
 160 . 
 161 . 
 162 . 
 
 163 . 
 
 164 . 
 
 165 . 
 
 166 . 
 
 167 . 
 
 168 . 
 
 169. 
 
 170 . 
 
 171 . 
 
 172. 
 173 . 
 1 / 4 . 
 
 175 . 
 
 176 . 
 
 177 . 
 
 178 . 
 
 179 . 
 
 180 . 
 181 . 
 
 182 . 
 
 183 . 
 
 184 . 
 
 185 . 
 
 186 ) 
 187 4 
 188 . 
 189 - 
 190 . 
 
 191 . 
 
 192 . 
 
 193 . 
 
 THE PICTURE GALLERY. 
 
 (Beginning from the Left, as you enter) 
 South-Side . 
 
 The Triumph of Bacchus (After H.*l 
 
 Caracci) attributed to./ 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 The Rape of the Sabines. 
 
 The Genius of History. 
 
 Head of St. Francis (on paper). 
 
 A Young Shepherd (on paper;. 
 
 A Head . 
 
 A Peasant’s Head . 
 
 St. John and Lamb. 
 
 A Madonna . 
 
 West-Side. 
 
 A Large Allegorical Painting, repre-'j 
 senting the Artist’s introduction to V 
 
 the Maichese Pallavicini .J 
 
 Democritus . 
 
 Apollo (a Sketch) . 
 
 A Girl in the Character of St. Agnes.. 
 
 A Madonna and Child . 
 
 The Judgment of Hercules. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 St. Teresa and a Young Carthusian .. 
 
 Tobit and the Angel. 
 
 David and Goliatii . 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 Adoration of the Magi .{ 
 
 Right of Chimney . 
 
 Madonna and Child . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Ctesar and Cleopatra. 
 
 The Emperor Charles V. (After Titian) 
 
 St. Catherine .. 
 
 Head of an Old Woman . 
 
 St John in the Wilderness (A Sketch ) 
 
 on paper) .) 
 
 Design for an Altar Piece. 
 
 Temptation of St. Anthony. 
 
 The Flight into Egypt . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 South-Side. 
 
 Noah Sacrificing and its Companion.. 
 
 La Madonna Degli Fiori . 
 
 Elijah restoring the dead Child to Life 
 The Madonna and Child with St. John 1 
 the Baptist and St. Ambrosio .... / 
 
 An Old Man’s Head ( Simeon ). 
 
 Two Boys’ Heads . 
 
 Hope, &c... 
 
 by 
 
 Domenicliino. 
 
 Fra Bartolomeo. 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Seb. Conca. 
 Guido. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Schedoni. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 P. Veronese. 
 Titian. 
 
 C. Cignani. 
 
 N- Poussin. 
 [After] Raphael. 
 Pacchiarotto. 
 
 F. Mola. 
 
 Baroccio. 
 
 Lodovico Cardi or 
 Cigoli. 
 
 Palma Vecchio. 
 [After] Raphael. 
 Raphael Mengs. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Lovino. 
 
 Murillo or Velasquez. 
 Titian. 
 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 Guido Rent. 
 
 Imperiali. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Andrea del Sarto. 
 
 Schedoni. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 BLENHEIM, 
 
 THE SEAT OF 
 
 fits ©race tijc Uuftt of JWarlbomtglj.* 
 
 No. _ Title of Picture. _ Peiuted tty 
 
 
 HALL. 
 
 (The Ceiling, painted by Sir J. Thorn¬ 
 hill, represents Victory, crowning 
 John, Duke of Marlborough, as she 
 points to a plan of the Battle of 
 Blenheim). 
 
 (In the Gallery above the Door Case.) 
 
 
 1. 
 
 Clara Eugenia, Infanta of Spain andT 
 Governess of the Netherlands .... / 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 2. 
 
 Queen Anne. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 3. 
 
 A Lady in a blue Dress. 
 
 (Over the Grand Staircase.) 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 4 . 
 
 Charles, Duke of Marlborough, and 1 
 Family .J 
 
 Hudson. 
 
 5. 
 
 John, the Great Duke of Marlbo- 
 rough, and Family. / 
 
 WAITING BOOM. 
 
 (Not Public.) 
 
 Closterman. 
 
 
 The Ceiling. 
 
 HakewCl. 
 
 6. 
 
 Gipsies with a Soldier . 
 
 Valentino. 
 
 7 - 
 
 Dutch Sea-Port . 
 
 • Blenheim may be seen every Afternoon, from two 
 till four o’clock, except ou Sundays »»d Public dayj. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
BLENHEIM. 
 
 lusi 
 
 147. 
 
 148. 
 
 149. 
 
 150. 
 
 151 . 
 
 152 . 
 
 153. 
 
 154. 
 
 155. 
 
 156. 
 
 157. 
 
 158. 
 
 159. 
 190 . 
 161 . 
 162 . 
 
 163 . 
 
 164. 
 
 165. 
 
 166 . 
 
 167. 
 
 168. 
 
 169. 
 
 170 . 
 
 171. 
 
 172. 
 
 173. 
 
 174. 
 
 175. 
 
 176 . 
 
 177. 
 
 178. 
 179- 
 180. 
 
 181. 
 
 182. 
 
 Title of Pictnre. 
 
 Lady Charlotte Spencer, in the Cha-") I 
 racter of a Gipsey, telling her bro- l 
 ther, Lord Henry Spencer, his for- f 
 
 tune.J 
 
 George, Third Duke of Marlborough .. 
 
 Dowager Lady Pembroke. 
 
 Lord Charles Spencer . 
 
 The Marquis of Tavistock. 
 
 Lot and Ins Daughters . 
 
 Rubens’s three Wives, as the three "i 
 
 Graces./ 
 
 Venus and Adonis . 
 
 A Battle-Piece. 
 
 Another... 
 
 A Bacchanalian Piece. 
 
 Cattle and Figures. 
 
 Gertrude, Duchess of Bedford. 
 
 Lady Amelia Boyce. 
 
 Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. 
 
 Two Favourite Dogs . 
 
 P tinted 
 
 SALOON. 
 
 Compartments and Ceiling .... 
 
 GREEN DRAWING ROOM. 
 
 Reynolds . 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Wouvermnns, 
 
 Rubens. 
 Castigltone. 
 Dance . 
 Phillips. 
 Kneller . 
 Bennett. 
 
 (Facing the Salt,on Entrance.) 
 
 Meleager and Atalanta .. 
 
 Offering of the Magi . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 | Figures . 
 
 j Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 I A Madonna and Child. 
 
 Figures . 
 
 A Knight of St. John of Jerusalem- 
 
 Caroline, Duchess of Marlborough .... 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Luca Giordano. 
 N. Poussin. 
 Rothenhamer. 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 Rothenhamer. 
 Bar undo. 
 Romney. 
 
 STATE DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 I George, Third Duke of Marlborough.. - 
 
 St. Lawrence distributing the Orna-1 n prete Genovese. 
 
 ments of the Altar ... J * 
 
 A Fruit-Piece. Luca Giordano. 
 
 HALL BED-CHAMBER. 
 
 Seneca bleeding to Death. 
 
 Edward VI. 
 
 An Architectural Piece . 
 
 [The Burning of Troy. 
 
 1A Piece of Still Life. 
 
 | A Piece of Still Life . 
 
 THE LIBRARY. 
 
 Jonah and the Whale. 
 
 A Landscape.. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Punini. 
 
 Old Franck . 
 Maltese. 
 
 [After] Poussin.. 
 
33p ^mntfWum. 
 
 TO THE MOST NOBLE 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE, K. G. 
 
 WHO 
 
 AMIDST THE HIGH PURSUITS OF THE STATESMAN 
 HAS FOUND LEISURE TO 
 PROMOTE THE ENDS OF LITERATURE, 
 
 AND TO FOSTER THE DESIGNS OF ART, 
 
 TH'S VOLUME, 
 
 IN WHICH THE PEN STRIVES TO HONOUR THE PENCIL, 
 IS, WITH PROFOUND RESPECT, 
 
 INSCRIBED BV 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
6 MR. angekstein’s collection. 
 
 depth of tone. Of the Elders, one is repre¬ 
 sented in the attitude of advancing towards 
 her, while the other beckons her to rise. We 
 know of no painter who could have improved 
 upon the Susannah, except Correggio, who, 
 with all his capricious blandishments, and 
 wreathed angelic smiles, would hardly have 
 given the same natural unaffected grace, the 
 same perfect womanhood. 
 
 There is but one other picture in the Collec¬ 
 tion that strikes us, as a matter of taste or 
 fancy, like this ; and that is the Silenus teaching 
 Young Apollo to play on the pipe [94]*—a small 
 oblong picture, executed in distemper, by An- 
 nibal Caracci. The old preceptor is very fine, 
 with a jolly, leering, pampered look of appro¬ 
 bation, half inclining to the brute, half con¬ 
 scious of the God; but it is the Apollo that 
 constitutes the charm of the picture and is 
 indeed divine. The whole figure is full of 
 simple careless grace, laughing in youth and 
 beauty he holds the Pan’s-pipe in both hands, 
 looking up with timid wonder ; and the expres¬ 
 sion of delight and surprise at the sounds he 
 produces is not to be surpassed. The only 
 image we would venture to compare with it for 
 innocent artless voluptuousness is that of the 
 shepherd-boy in Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia, 
 “ piping as though he should never be old !” 
 
 * Mrs. Jameson concurs with Mr. Landseer in thinking 
 that the youthful pupil is Bacchus, not Apollo. 
 
MR. ANGERSTEIn’s COLLECTION. 17 
 
 .Family, with his children as Christ and St. John, 
 playing with a lamb [67] ; in which he has con¬ 
 trived to bring together all that is rich in an¬ 
 tique dresses (black as jet, and shining like 
 diamonds), transparent in flesh-colour, agreeable 
 in landscape, unfettered in composition. The 
 light streams from rosy clouds ; the breeze curls 
 the branches of the trees in the back-ground, 
 and plays on the clear complexions of the various 
 scattered group. It is one of this painter’s most 
 splendid, and, at the same time, most solid and 
 sharply finished productions. 
 
 Mr. Wilkie’s Alehouse Door [122] is here, and 
 deserves to be here. Still it is not his best; 
 though there are some very pleasing rustic 
 figures, and some touching passages in it. As 
 in his Blind-Mans-buff, the groups are too 
 straggling, and spread over too large a surface 
 of bare foreground, which Mr. Wilkie does not 
 paint well. It looks more like putty than earth or 
 clay. The artist has a better eye for individual 
 details than for the general tone of objects. 
 Mr. Liston’s face in this “flock of drunkards” is 
 a smiling failure. 
 
 A portrait of Hogarth, by himself [112], and 
 Sir Joshua’s half-length of Lord Heathfield [111], 
 hang in the same room. The last of these is 
 certainly a fine picture, well composed, richly 
 coloured, with considerable character, and a look 
 of nature. Nevertheless, our artist’s pictures, 
 seen among standard works, have (to speak it 
 
 c 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 29 
 
 waving on the edge of the declivity above, and 
 the rosy evening light streaming through the 
 clouds on the green moist landscape in the 
 still lengthening distance. Here (to pass from 
 one kind of excellence to another with kindly 
 interchange) is a clear sparkling Water-fall, by 
 Ruysdael [145], and Hobbema’s Water-Mill 
 [131], with the wheels in motion, and the 
 ducks paddling in the restless stream. Is not 
 this a sad anti-climax, from Jacob’s Dream to 
 a picture of a Water-Mill? We do not know ; 
 and we should care as little, could we but 
 paint either of the pictures. 
 
 Entire affection scorneth nicer hands. 
 
 If a picture is admirable in its kind, we do not 
 give ourselves much trouble about the subject. 
 Could we paint as well as Hobbema, we should 
 not envy Rembrandt: nay, even as it is, while 
 we can relish both, we envy neither! 
 
 The Centre Room commences with a Girl 
 at a Window, by Rembrandt [206]. The picture 
 is known by the print of it, and is one of the 
 most remarkable and pleasing in the Collection. 
 For clearness, for breadth, for a lively, ruddy 
 look of healthy nature, it cannot be surpassed. 
 The execution of the drapery is masterly. There 
 is a' story told of its being his servant-maid 
 looking out of a window, but it is evidently the 
 portrait of a mere child. 
 
 A Farrier shoeing an Ass, by Berghem [232], 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 35 
 
 great a painter as some others, whose fame 
 was not their only inheritance ! 
 
 281, Venus and Cupid, is a delightful copy 
 after Correggio. We have no such regrets or 
 qualms of conscience with respect to him. 
 “ He has had his reward.” The weight of his 
 renown balances the weight of barbarous coin 
 that sunk him to the earth. Could he live 
 now, and know what others think of him, his 
 misfortunes would seem as dross compared with 
 his lasting glory, and his heart would melt 
 within him at the thought, with a sweetness 
 that only his own pencil could express. 
 
 326, The Virgin, Infant Christ, and St. John, 
 by Andrea del Sarto, is exceedingly good.— 
 327, Another Holy Family, by the same, is an 
 admirable picture, and only inferior to Raphael. 
 It has delicacy, force, thought, and feeling. 
 "What lacks it then,” to be equal to Raphael? 
 We hardly know, unless it be a certain firm¬ 
 ness and freedom, and glowing animation. 
 The execution is more timid and laboured. 
 It looks like a picture (an exquisite one, in¬ 
 deed), but Raphael’s look like the divine reality 
 itself!— 
 
 No. 319, Cocles defending the Bridge, is by 
 Le Brun. We do not like this picture, nor 252, 
 The Massacre of the Innocents, by the same artist. 
 One reason is that they are French, and 
 another that they are not good. They have 
 great merit, it is true, but their merits are only 
 
 d 2 
 
38 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 No. 331, St. John preaching in the Wilderness, 
 by Guido, is an extraordinary picture, and very 
 unlike this painter’s usual manner. The co¬ 
 lour is as if the flesh had been stained all 
 over with brick-dust. There is, however, a 
 wildness about it which accords well with the 
 subject, and the figure of St. John is full of grace 
 and gusto. — No. 339, The Martyrdom of St. 
 Sebastian, by the same, is much finer, both as to 
 execution and expression. The face is imbued 
 with deep passion.—No. 133, Portrait of a Man, 
 by L. da Vinci, is truly simple and grand, and 
 at once carries you back to that age .—Boors 
 Merry Making, by A. Ostade (ISO), is fine; but 
 has no business where it is. Yet it takes up 
 very little room. — No. 340, Portrait of Mrs. 
 Siddons, in the character of the Tragic Muse, by 
 Sir Joshua, appears to us to resemble neither 
 Mrs. Siddons nor the Tragic Muse. It is in a 
 bastard style of art. Sir Joshua had an im¬ 
 portunate theory of improving upon nature. He 
 might improve upon indifferent nature, but 
 when he had got the finest, he thought to im¬ 
 prove upon that too, and only spoiled it.— 
 No. 255, The Virgin and Child, by Correggio, 
 can only be a copy.*—No. 191, The Judgment 
 of Paris, by Vanderwerff, is a picture, and by a 
 master that we hate. He always chooses for 
 
 * It is a copy from Correggio’s Vierge au Panier, in 
 the National Gallery, No. 23. 
 
50 
 
 TIIE MARQUIS OF 
 
 The composition of this picture is rathfer 
 forced (it was one of those made to order for 
 the monks) and the colour is somewhat me¬ 
 tallic; but it has, notwithstanding, on the whole, 
 a striking and tolerably harmonious effect.— 
 There is still another picture by Caracci (also an 
 old favourite with us, for it was in the Orleans 
 set) Diana and Nymphs bathing, with the story 
 of Calisto. It is one of his very best, with some¬ 
 thing of the drawing of the antique, and the 
 landscape-colouring of Titian. The figures are 
 all heroic, handsome, such as might belong to 
 huntresses, or Goddesses : and the coolness and 
 seclusion of the scene, under grey over-hanging 
 cliffs, and brown overshadowing trees, with all 
 the richness and truth of nature, have the effect 
 of an enchanting reality.—The story and figures 
 are more classical and better managed than those 
 of the Diana and Calisto by Titian ; but there is 
 a charm in that picture and the fellow to it, the 
 Diana and Actceon (there is no other fellow to 
 it in the world !), which no words can convey. 
 It is the charm thrown over each by the 
 greatest genius for colouring that the world ever 
 saw. It is difficult, nay, impossible, to say 
 which is the finest in this respect: but either 
 one or the other (whichever we turn to, and we 
 can never be satisfied with looking at either— 
 so rich a scene do they unfold, so serene a 
 harmony do they infuse into the soul) is like a 
 divine piece of music, or rises “ like an exhala- 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 65 
 
 Cleveland [H. C. 160], in her helmet and 
 plumes, looks quite like a heroine of romance 
 or modern Amazon; but for an air of easy 
 assurance, inviting admiration, and alarmed at 
 nothing but being thought coy, commend us to 
 my Lady Rochester above [H. C. 154], in the 
 sky-blue drapery, thrown carelessly across her 
 shoulders ! As paintings, these celebrated por¬ 
 traits cannot rank very high. They have an 
 affected ease, but a real hardness of manner 
 and execution; and they have that contortion of 
 attitude and setness of features which we after¬ 
 wards find carried to so disgusting and insipid 
 an excess in Kneller’s portraits. Sir Peter Lely 
 was, however, a better painter than Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller—that is the highest praise that can be 
 accorded to him. He had more spirit, more 
 originality, and was the livelier coxcomb of the 
 two ! Both these painters possessed considerable 
 mechanical dexterity, but it is not of a refined 
 kind. Neither of them could be ranked among 
 great painters, yet they were thought by their 
 contemporaries and themselves superior to every 
 one. At the distance of a hundred years we see 
 the thing plainly enough. 
 
 In the same room with the portrait of Lady 
 Digby, there is one of Killigrew and Carew, by 
 the same masterly hand (4). There is spirit and 
 character in the profile of Carew, while the head 
 of Killigrew is surprising from its composure 
 and sedateness of aspect. He was one of the 
 
 F 
 
70 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 tent on her subject, and not forgetting herself.* 
 These are the materials of history; and if it 
 is not made of them, it is a nickname or a 
 mockery. All that does not lay open the fine 
 net-work of the heart and brain of man, that 
 does not make us see deeper into the soul, is 
 but the apparatus and machinery of history¬ 
 painting, and no more to it than the frame is 
 to the picture. 
 
 We noticed a little Mater Dolorosa in one of 
 the rooms [65], by Carlo Dolce, which is a pale, 
 pleasing, expressive head. There are two large 
 figures of his, a. Magdalen [116] and another, the 
 Daughter of Herodias [118], which are in the 
 very falsest style of colouring and expression; 
 and Youth and Age, by Denner,t which are in as 
 perfectly bad a taste and style of execution as 
 any thing we ever saw of this artist, who was 
 an adept in that way. 
 
 We are afraid we have forgotten one or two 
 meritorious pictures which we meant to notice. 
 There is one we just recollect, a Portrait of a 
 Youth in black, by Parmegiano [122]. It is in 
 a singular style, but very bold, expressive, and 
 natural. There is (in the same apartment of the 
 palace) a fine picture of the Battle of Nordlingen, 
 
 * There is no such subject, by Correggio, at Windsor. 
 Hampton Court possesses a copy of his St. Catherine 
 Reading. 
 
 f These are at Hampton Court. Nos. 328, 329. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 87 
 
 been to shew the spirit that breathes through 
 them, and we shall count ourselves fortunate if 
 we have not sullied them with our praise. We 
 do not care about some works : but these were 
 sacred to our imaginations, and we should be 
 sorry indeed to have profaned them by descrip¬ 
 tion or criticism. We have hurried through our 
 unavoidable task with fear, and look back to it 
 with doubt. 
 
THE GR0SVEN0R PICTURES. QQ 
 
 add) colouring. In the last particular, it is tricky, 
 and discovers, instead of concealing, its art. The 
 flesh is not transparent, but a transparency ! Let 
 us not forget a fine Snyders, a Boar-hunt, which 
 is highly spirited and natural, as far as the animals 
 are concerned ; but is patchy, and wants the tone 
 and general effect that Rubens would have thrown 
 over it. In the middle of the right-hand side of 
 the room, is the Meeting of Jacob and Laban, by 
 Murillo. It is a lively, out-of-door scene, full of 
 bustle and expression; but it rather brings to us 
 the tents and faces of two bands of gypsies meet¬ 
 ing on a common heath, than carries us back to 
 the remote times, places, and events, treated of. 
 Murillo was the painter of nature, not of the 
 imagination. 
 
 There is a Sleeping Child by him, over the 
 door of the saloon (an admirable cabinet- 
 picture), and another of a boy, a little spirited 
 rustic, brown, glowing, “of the earth, earthy,” 
 the flesh thoroughly baked, as if he had come out 
 of an oven; and who regards you with a look as 
 if he was afraid you might bind him apprentice 
 to some trade or handicraft, or send him to a 
 Sunday-school—and so put an end to his short, 
 happy, careless life—to his lessons from that 
 great teacher, the Sun—to his physic, the air—to 
 his bed, the earth—and to the soul of his very 
 being. Liberty! 
 
 The first room you enter is filled with some 
 very good and some very bad English pictures.. 
 
 h 2 
 
158 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 superiority consisted in their peculiar suscepti¬ 
 bility to the impressions of what is beautiful and 
 grand in nature. It may be thought an objec¬ 
 tion, to what has just been said, that the antique 
 figures of animals, &c., are as fine, and proceed 
 on the same principles, as their statues of gods 
 or men. But all that follows from this seems to 
 be that their art had been perfected in the study 
 of the human form, the test and proof of power 
 and skill; and was then transferred easily to the 
 general imitation of all other objects, according 
 to their true characters, proportions, and appear¬ 
 ances. As a confirmation of these remarks, the 
 antique portraits of individuals were often supe¬ 
 rior even to the personification of their gods. I 
 think that no unprejudiced spectator of real taste 
 can hesitate for a moment in preferring the head 
 of the Antinous, for example, to that of the 
 Apollo. And in general it may be laid down 
 as a rule, that the most perfect of the antiques 
 are the most simple, •—• those which affect the 
 least action, or violence of passion,—which re¬ 
 pose the most on natural beauty of form, and a 
 certain expression of sweetness and dignity, that 
 is, which remain most nearly in that state in 
 which they could be copied from nature without 
 straining the limbs or features of the individual, 
 or racking the invention of the artist. This 
 tendency of Greek art to repose has indeed been 
 reproached with insipidity by those who had not 
 a true feeling of beauty and sentiment. I, how- 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 179 
 
 obvious and common. I forgive them. They 
 perhaps did better in faithfully and skilfully 
 imitating what they had seen than in imagining 
 what they had not seen. Their pictures, at least, 
 show that there is nothing in nature, however 
 mean or trivial, that has not its beauty, and some 
 interest belonging to it, if truly represented. I 
 prefer Vangoyen’s views on the borders of a 
 canal, the yellow-tufted bank and passing sail, or 
 Ruysdael’s woods and sparkling waterfalls, to the 
 most classical or epic compositions which could 
 have been invented out of nothing ■ and I think 
 that Teniers’s boors, old women, and children, 
 are very superior to the little carved ivory 
 Venuses in the pictures of Vanderneer; just as 
 I think Hogarth’s Marriage a-la-Mode is better 
 than his Sigismunda, or as Mr. Wilkie’s Card- 
 Players is better than his Alfred. I should not 
 assuredly prefer a Dutch Fair by Teniers to a 
 Cartoon by Raphael; but I suspect I should 
 prefer a Dutch Fair by Teniers to a Cartoon by 
 the same master; or, I should prefer truth and 
 nature in the simplest dress, to affectation and 
 inanity in the most pompous disguise. What¬ 
 ever is genuine in art must proceed from the 
 impulse of nature and individual genius. 
 
 In the French school there are but two names 
 of high and established reputation—N. Poussin 
 and Claude Lorraine. Of the former I have 
 already spoken; of the latter I shall give my 
 opinion when I come to speak of our own 
 
 n 2 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 191 
 
 truth inconsistent with the beauty of the imita¬ 
 tion ? Does the perpetual profusion of objects 
 and scenery, all perfect in themselves, interfere 
 with the simple grandeur and comprehensive 
 magnificence of the whole ? Does the precision 
 with which a plant is marked in the foreground 
 take away from the air-drawn distinctions of the 
 blue glimmering horison ? Is there any want of 
 that endless airy space, where the eye wanders 
 at liberty under the open sky, explores distant 
 objects, and returns back as from a delightful 
 journey ? There is in fact no comparison between 
 Claude and Wilson. Sir Joshua Reynolds used 
 to say that there would be another Raphael be¬ 
 fore there would be another Claude. His land¬ 
 scapes have all that is exquisite and refined in 
 art and nature. Every thing is moulded into 
 grace and harmony ■, and, at the touch of his 
 pencil, shepherds with their flocks, temples, and 
 groves, and winding glades and scattered ham¬ 
 lets, rise up in never-ending succession, under 
 the azure sky and the resplendent sun, while 
 
 “ Universal Pan, 
 
 Knit with the graces, and the hours, in dance. 
 
 Leads on the eternal spring.” 
 
 Michael Angelo has left, in one of his sonnets, 
 a fine apostrophe to the earliest poet of Italy : 
 
 “ Fain would I, to be what our Dante was. 
 
 Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind.” 
 
218 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 tney are so impressed there ? The irregularity 
 of proportion and want of symmetry in the 
 structure of the national features, though it 
 certainly enhances the difficulty of infusing 
 natural grace and grandeur into the works of 
 art, rather accounts for our not having been 
 able to attain the exquisite refinements of 
 Grecian sculpture, than for our not having 
 rivalled the Italian painters in expression. 
 
 Mr. West formed no exception to, but a 
 confirmation of, these general observations. 
 His pictures have all that can be required in 
 what relates to the composition of the subject: 
 to the regular arrangement of the groups ; 
 the anatomical proportions of the human body ; 
 and the technical knowledge of expression,— 
 as far as expression is reducible to abstract 
 rules, and is merely a vehicle for the telling 
 of a story; so that anger, wonder, sorrow, 
 pity, &c. have each their appropriate and well- 
 known designations. These, however, are but 
 the instrumental parts of the art, the means, not 
 the end ; but beyond these Mr. West’s pictures 
 do not go. They never “ snatch a grace beyond 
 the reach of art.” They exhibit the mask, not 
 the soul, of expression. I doubt whether, in 
 the entire range of Mr. West’s productions, 
 meritorious and admirable as the design and 
 composition often are, there is to be found 
 one truly fine head. They display a total want 
 of gusto. In Raphael, the same divine spirit 
 
222 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 interest, to talk of the antique, and furnish 
 designs for the lids of snuff boxes, and ladies 
 fans. 
 
 The passage above alluded to evidently pro¬ 
 ceeds on the common mistaken notion that the 
 progress of the arts depends entirely on the cul¬ 
 tivation and encouragement bestowed on them : 
 as if taste and genius were perfectly mechanical, 
 arbitrary things,—as if they could be bought and 
 sold, and regularly contracted for at a given 
 price. It confounds the fine arts with the me¬ 
 chanic arts,—arts with science. It supposes that 
 feeling, imagination, invention, are the creatures 
 of positive institutions ; that the temples of the 
 Muses may be raised and supported by voluntary 
 contributions ; that we can enshrine the soul of 
 art in a stately pile of royal patronage, inspire 
 corporate bodies with taste, and carve out the 
 direction to fame in letters of stone on the front 
 of public buildings. That the arts in any coun¬ 
 try may be at so low an ebb as to be capable of 
 great improvement by positive means, so as to 
 reach the common level to which such means 
 can carry them, there is no doubt or question; 
 but after they have in any particular instance, by 
 native genius and industry, reached their high¬ 
 est eminence, to say that they will, by mere arti¬ 
 ficial props and officious encouragement, arrive 
 at a point of “ still higher attainment,” is assum¬ 
 ing a great deal too much. Are we to understand 
 that the laudable efforts of the British Institution 
 
226 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 of every excellence which they pretend to com¬ 
 bine? Inoffensive insipidity is the utmost that 
 can ever be expected, because it is the utmost 
 that ever was attained, from the desire to pro¬ 
 duce a balance of good qualities, and to animate 
 lifeless compositions by the transfusion of a 
 spirit of originality. The assiduous, but thought¬ 
 less, imitator, in his attempts to grasp all, loses 
 his hold of that which was placed within his 
 reach; and, from aspiring at universal excel¬ 
 lence, sinks into uniform mediocrity. There is 
 a certain pedantry, a given division of labour, an 
 almost exclusive attention to some one object, 
 which is necessary in Art, as in all the works 
 of man. Without this, the unavoidable conse¬ 
 quence is a gradual dissipation and prostitution 
 of intellect, which leaves the mind without 
 energy to devote to any pursuit the pains neces¬ 
 sary to excel in it, and suspends every purpose 
 in irritable imbecility. But the modern painter 
 is bound not only to run the circle of his own 
 art, but of all others. He must be “ statesman, 
 chemist, fiddler, and buffoon.” He must have 
 too many accomplishments to excel in his 
 profession. When every one is bound to know 
 every thing, there is no time to do any thing. 
 Besides, the student who has models of every 
 kind of excellence constantly before him is not 
 only diverted from that particular walk of art in 
 which, by patient exertion, he might have ob¬ 
 tained ultimate success, but from having his im- 
 
252 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 it is a mere superfluity, an encumbrance to the 
 mind, a piece of “ laborious foolery,”—for the 
 word, the mere name of any object or class of 
 objects will convey the general idea, more free 
 from particular details or defects than any the 
 most neutral and indefinite representation that 
 can be produced by forms and colours. The 
 word Man, for instance, conveys a more filmy, 
 impalpable, abstracted, and (according to this 
 hypothesis) sublime idea of the species, than 
 Michael Angelo’s Adam, or any real image can 
 possibly do. If this then is the true object of art, 
 the language of painting, sculpture, &c., becomes 
 quite supererogatory. Sir Joshua and the rest 
 contend that nature (properly speaking) does 
 not express any single individual, nor the whole 
 mass of things as they exist, but a general prin¬ 
 ciple, a something common to all these, retaining 
 the perfections, that is, all in which they are 
 alike, and abstracting the defects, namely, all in 
 which they differ: so that, out of actual nature, 
 we compound an artificial nature, never answer¬ 
 ing to the former in any one part of its mock- 
 existence, and which last is the true object of 
 imitation to the aspiring artist. Let us adopt 
 this principle of abstraction as the rule of perfec¬ 
 tion, and see what havoc it will make in all our 
 notions and feelings in such matters. If the 
 perfect is the intermediate, why not confound 
 all objects, all forms, all colours at once ? In¬ 
 stead of painting a landscape with blue sky. 
 
258 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 and tell us that it makes a brighter show than 
 the rainbow, or even than a bed of tulips. He 
 does not draw airy forms, moving above the 
 earth, “ gay creatures of the element, that play 
 i’ th’ plighted clouds,” and scorn the mere ma¬ 
 terial existences, the concrete descendants of 
 those that came out of Noah’s Ark, and that 
 walk, run, or creep upon it. No, he does not 
 paint only what he has seen in his mind’s eye, but 
 the common objects that both he and others 
 daily meet—rocks, clouds, trees, men, women, 
 beasts, fishes, birds, or what he calls such. He 
 is then an imitator by profession. He gives the 
 appearances of things that exist outwardly by 
 themselves, and have a distinct and independent 
 nature of their own. But these know their own 
 nature best; and it is by consulting them that 
 he can alone trace it truly, either in the imme¬ 
 diate details, or characteristic essences. Nature 
 is consistent, unaffected, powerful, subtle: art is 
 forgetful, apish, feeble, coarse. Nature is the 
 original, and therefore right : art is the copy, 
 and can but tread lamely in the same steps. 
 Nature penetrates into the parts, and moves the 
 whole mass : it acts with diversity, and in neces¬ 
 sary connexion ; for real causes never forget to 
 operate, and to contribute their portion. Where, 
 therefore, these causes are called into play to the 
 utmost extent that they ever reach, there we 
 shall have a strength and a refinement that art 
 may imitate but cannot surpass. But it is said 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 279 ' 
 
 ference in the sensation of smooth or rough. 
 Judging by analogy, a gradation or symmetry 
 of form must affect the mind in the same man¬ 
 ner as a gradation of recurrence at given inter¬ 
 vals of tones or sounds : and if it does so in fact, 
 we need not inquire further for the principle. 
 Sir Joshua (who is the arch-heretic on this sub¬ 
 ject) makes grandeur or sublimity consist in the 
 middle form, or abstraction of all peculiarities; 
 which is evidently false, for grandeur and sub 
 limity arise from extraordinary strength, mag¬ 
 nitude, &c., or, in a word, from an excess of 
 power, so as to startle and overawe the mind. 
 But as sublimity is an excess of power, beauty 
 is, we conceive, the blending and harmonizing 
 of different powers or qualities together, so as to 
 produce a soft and pleasurable sensation. That 
 it is not the middle form of the species seems 
 proved in various ways. First, because one 
 species is more beautiful than another, according 
 to common sense. A rose is the queen of flowers, 
 in poetry at least; but in this philosophy any 
 other flower is as good. A swan is more beauti¬ 
 ful than a goose: a stag, than a goat. Yet if 
 custom were the test of beauty, either we should 
 give no preference, or our preference would be 
 reversed. Again, let us go back to the human 
 face and figure. A straight nose is allowed to 
 be handsome, that is, one that presents nearly 
 a continuation of the line of the forehead, and 
 the sides of which are nearly parallel. Now this 
 
316 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 da Vinci has pursued the subject, the author 
 adds that a complete system of the principles 
 followed by the ancient Greek sculptors may be 
 drawn out: that is to say that, because all the 
 inflections of figure and motion of which the 
 human body is susceptible are contained within 
 the above-mentioned circle or square, the know¬ 
 ledge of this formal generality includes a know¬ 
 ledge of all the subordinate and implied parti¬ 
 culars. The contortions of the Laocoon, the 
 agony of the Children, the look of the Dying 
 Gladiator, the contour of the Venus, the grace 
 and spirit of the Apollo, are all, it seems, con¬ 
 tained within the limits of the circle or the 
 square! Just as well might it be contended 
 that, having got a square or oval frame, of the 
 size of a picture by Titian or Vandyck, every one 
 is qualified to paint a face within it equal in 
 force or beauty to Titian or Vandyck ! 
 
 In the same spirit of a determination to make 
 Art a handmaid attendant upon Science, the 
 author thus proceeds: “ Pliny says, lib. xxxiv. 
 cap. 8., Leontius, the contemporary of Phidias, 
 first expressed tendons and veins —primus nervos 
 et venas expressit —which was immediately after 
 the anatomical researches and improvements of 
 Hippocrates, Democritus, and their disciples; 
 and we shall find, in the same manner, all the 
 improvements in art followed improvements in 
 science.” Yet almost in the next page, Mr. 
 Flaxman himself acknowledges that even in the 
 
330 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 qualities, but this must be consistently, that is, 
 such as are found combined in nature. Repose 
 was given to the Olympian Jupiter to express 
 majesty ; because the greatest power was found 
 to imply repose, and to produce its effects with 
 the least effort. Minerva, the Goddess of Wis¬ 
 dom, was represented young and beautiful; 
 because wisdom was discovered not to be con¬ 
 fined to age or ugliness. Not only the individual 
 excellencies, but their bond of union, were 
 sanctioned by the testimony of observation and 
 experience. Bacchus is represented with full, 
 exuberant features, with prominent lips, and a 
 stern brow, as expressing a character of pleni¬ 
 tude and bounty, and the tamer of savages and 
 wild beasts. But this ideal conception is carried 
 to the brink ; the mould is full, and, with a very 
 little more straining, it would overflow into 
 caricature and distortion. Mercury has wings, 
 which is merely a grotesque and fanciful com¬ 
 bination of known images. Apollo was described 
 by the poets (if not represented by the statuary) 
 with a round jocund face, and golden locks, in 
 allusion to the appearance of rays of the sun. 
 This was an allegory, and would be soon turned 
 to abuse in sculpture or painting. Thus we see 
 how circumscribed and uncertain the province 
 of the ideal is, when once it advances from the 
 most perfect nature to spirituality and divinity! 
 We suspect the improved Deity often fell short 
 of the heroic original; and the Venus was only 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 333 
 
 of a more fleeting or superficial kind as an ex¬ 
 crescence and an impertinence. The form is 
 hewn out of the solid rock; to tint and daub it 
 over with a flimsy, perishable substance is a 
 mockery and a desecration, where the work it¬ 
 self is likely to last for ever. A statue is the 
 utmost possible developement of form; and that 
 on which the whole powers and faculties of the 
 artist have been bent. It has a right, then, by 
 the laws of intellectual creation, to stand alone 
 in that simplicity and unsullied nakedness in 
 which it has been wrought. Tangible form (the 
 primary idea) is blind, averse to colour. A sta¬ 
 tue, if it were coloured at all, ought to be inlaid, 
 that is, done in Mosaic, where the colour would 
 be part of the solid materials. But this would be 
 an undertaking beyond human power. Where 
 art has performed all that it can do, why require 
 it to begin its task again ? Or if the addition is 
 to be made carelessly and lightly, it is unworthy 
 of the subject. Colour is at best the mask of 
 form : paint on a statue is like paint on a real 
 face,—it is not of a piece with the work, it does 
 not belong to the face, and justly obtains the 
 epithet of meretricious. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman, in comparing the progress of 
 ancient and modern sculpture, does not shrink 
 from doing justice to the latter. He gives the 
 preference to Scriptural over classical subjects ; 
 and, in one passage, seems half inclined to turn 
 short round on the Greek mythology and mo- 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 WILTON HOUSE, 
 
 djt Jkat of tfjf Mt. ^on. tijf 3£avl of i3mt>tokc, 
 
 WILTON, WILTS. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 1. 
 
 ANTI-ROOM TO THE CORNER ROOM. 
 
 Democritus . 
 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 2. 
 
 Virgin and Child, with Angels. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
 3. 
 
 Two Bovs. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 4. 
 
 Battle Piece. 
 
 Borgognone. 
 
 5. 
 
 Dead Christ. 
 
 Albert Durer. 
 
 6. 
 
 Battle Piece. 
 
 Borgognone. 
 
 7- 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Novellari. 
 
 8. 
 
 St. Sebastian. 
 
 Scarsellino da Ferrara. 
 
 9• 
 
 Our Saviour when a Child. 
 
 Paolo Mattei. 
 
 10. 
 
 A Piper. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 11. 
 
 T hree Children of Henry VII. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 12. 
 
 An ancient painting of Richard II. &c. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 13. 
 
 A Man Smoking. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 14. 
 
 Judgment of Midas . 
 
 Filippo Lavri. 
 
 15. 
 
 The Due d’Epernon . 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 16. 
 
 Old Man and Children. 
 
 Frank Hall. 
 
 17- 
 
 The Ascension. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 
 18. 
 
 St. Anthony. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 19- 
 
 Francis II. of France. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 20. 
 
 Virgin and Christ. 
 
 D. Crespi . 
 
 21. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Theodor o. 
 
 22. 
 
 
 
 23. 
 
 Virgin, Christ, St. John, &c. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Contarini. 
 
 24. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 25. 
 
 Virgin, Christ, &c. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 26 . 
 
 Christ taken from the Cross. 
 
 Valerio Castelli. 
 
 27. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 F. Mula. 
 
112 
 
 113. 
 
 114 
 
 115 
 
 116. 
 
 117 . 
 
 118. 
 
 119. 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123. 
 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126 
 
 127 
 
 128 
 
 129 
 
 130. 
 
 131. 
 
 132. 
 
 133. 
 
 134. 
 
 135. 
 
 136. 
 
 137. 
 
 138. 
 
 139 
 
 140 
 
 141 
 
 142. 
 
 143. 
 
 144. 
 
 145. 
 
 146. 
 
 147. 
 
 148. 
 
 149. 
 
 150. 
 
 151. 
 
 152. 
 
 STOi/RHEAD, 
 
 li 
 
 Tide ot Picture 
 
 Painted by 
 
 THE LIBRARY. 
 
 Portrait of Pietro Landi, Doge of "i 
 Venice./ 
 
 Views in Venice, each representing "i 
 some Annual Festival. I 
 
 THE CABINET ROOM. 
 
 Peasants and Colliers. 
 
 Landscapes . 
 
 View of Florence. 
 
 Sea-Port. 
 
 Landscape—Moonlight. 
 
 Pfae Lake of Nemi, with the Story of l 
 
 Diana and her Nymphs .J 
 
 rhe Lake of Averno, with the Story l 
 of ^Eneas and the Sybil, from a l 
 
 Sketch by Sir R. C. Hoarc .J 
 
 View of Naples. 
 
 A Storm with the Story of Jonah and 
 the Whale (After N. Poussin ) .... J 
 
 A. Landscape. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 A. Landscape. 
 
 Landscapes (After Claude ) . 
 
 Landscapes . 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 Moonlight, with Figures 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 Amphitheatre at Rome .. 
 Interior of a Church .... 
 Diana and her Nymphs.. 
 
 A Friar praying . 
 
 Hocks and water. 
 
 Landscapes . 
 
 Views in Venice 
 
 ANTE-ROOM TO PICTURE GALLERY. 
 
 3ard Players and Fortune Teller. 
 
 I’he Servant Maid denying St. Peter.. 
 
 View of St. Mark’s Place... 
 
 A Battle-Piece ... 
 
 rhe Daughter of Herodias. 
 
 Study. 
 
 Boy holding a Greyhound... 
 
 A Cardinal. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 I’he Marriage in Cana (After P. 1 
 Veronese) .../ 
 
 Anonymous. 
 Canaletti. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 Blomper. 
 Marlow. 
 Vernet. 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 Turnet . 
 
 Marlow. 
 
 Taverner. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Lucatelli. 
 
 Bout and Baudoin, 
 D. Teniers. 
 
 Wilsoji. 
 
 Rembrandt . 
 
 C. W. Bamfylde. 
 Gaspuro d’(Jcc/iiali . 
 H. V. Stein. 
 
 Z- ccarelli. 
 
 F. Mala. 
 
 Rosa di Tivoli. 
 Bartolomeo. 
 
 Canaletti. 
 
 Caravaggio 
 
 Canaletti. 
 Borgognone. 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Anonymous. 
 Domeuichino. 
 Palma , Giovane. 
 
 Sebastian Ricci. 
 
INDEX TO CRITICISMS 
 
 OF THE PICTURE GALLERIES. 
 
 Albano, F. Fable of Salmaeis, 
 page 54. 
 
 Bac/chuysen , L. Sea-storm, 26. 
 Bassano. The Circumcision, 56. 
 Beechey, Sir W. For. of Kemble. 
 Berghem. Farrier and Ass, 29. 
 Bourgeois, Sir F. Religion in the 
 Desert, 26. 
 
 Both. Landscape, ib. 
 
 Bril , Paul. Landscape, 124. 
 Brouwer. Int. of Ale-house, 24. 
 Cambiasiaci. Death of Adonis, 56. 
 Curacci , A. Silenus and Apollo, 6. 
 St. John in the Wilderness, 16. 
 Adoration of the Shepherds, 39- 
 Danae, 49. St. Gregory, ib. 
 Diana and Nymphs, 50. 
 
 Carucci , L. Susannah and the 
 Elders, 5. Marriage of St. Ca¬ 
 therine of Sienna, 56. 
 
 Claude. St. Ursula, 13. The Al- 
 tieri Claude, ib.* Sea port, 14. 
 Jacob and Laban, ib. Enchant¬ 
 ed Castle, ib Landscape, ib. 
 Landscapes, 56, 122. Christ on 
 the Mount, 97* Arch of Con¬ 
 stantine, ib. Morning and 
 Livening of the Roman Empire, 
 98. id. 104. 
 
 Correggio. Christ in the garden, 
 12. Venus and Cupid, 35. Vir 
 gin and Child, 38. Muleteers, 
 56. A Girl Reading, 69. Port, 
 of Bandinelli, 7-5- Angels, 92. 
 Crespi. A School, 25. 
 
 Cuyp. Landscapes, 23, 58. 
 
 David. Coronation of Napoleon, 46. 
 Del Sarto. Holy Family, 35. Head 
 of a Child, 93. 
 
 Dolce. Mater Dolorosa, 25. 
 Another, 70. A Magdalen, ib. 
 'I’he Daughter of Herodias, ib 
 Head of Christ, 124. 
 Dome?iichino. Christ bearing his 
 Cross, 57- St. Agnes, 93. 
 Douw, G. 57. 
 
 • This pi lure is now in the Collection of 
 Mr. Miles, at Leigh Court, near Bristol. 
 
 Durer. Death of the Virgin, 57. 
 
 Gainsborough. Portrait after Rem¬ 
 brandt, 63. 
 
 Giordano. Bust of Seneca, 125. 
 
 Giorgione. Musical Party, 37. 
 
 G. Romano. Portrait of Clement 
 VII., 55. 
 
 Guercino. St. Cecilia, 36. 
 
 Guido. St. John Preaching in the 
 Wilderness, 38. Martyrdom of 
 St. Sebastian, ib. A Madonna, 
 54. Infant Christ, 57. Perseus 
 and Andromeda, 71. Venus 
 attired by the Graces, ib. Ma¬ 
 donna and sleeping Child, 93. 
 Magdalen, 106 An Angel, 121. 
 
 Hobbema. Water Mill, 29. 
 
 Hogarth. Marriage h-la-mode, 
 18, 142. Portrait of Himself, 17. 
 Distressed Poet, 100. Morn¬ 
 ing Scene, 151. Noon, Evening, 
 Night, ib. Taste in High Life, 
 ib. Election Scenes, 153. 
 March to Finchley, 154. Rake’s 
 Progress, ib. 
 
 Holbein, 32. Young Man’s Head, 
 69- Portraits of Erasmus, ib. 
 Of a Child, 112. Of Queen 
 Mary, 124. 
 
 Jordaens. Blowinghotandcold,26. 
 
 Kneller, 60. Chinese converted, 71. 
 
 Le Brun. Codes, 35. 
 
 Lely. Portrait of Lady Gram- 
 mont, 64. Of the Duchess of 
 Cleveland, &c., 65. 
 
 Le Nain. The Village Minstrel, 57. 
 
 Maratti, C. Holy Family, 23. 
 
 MtUsys, Q. The Misers, 67. 
 Metzu, 37. 
 
 Michael Angelo , 10. 
 
 Mola, F. Rape of Proserpine, 36. 
 Landscape, ib. 
 
 Morales. Christ bearing his Cross, 
 39 . 
 
 Moroni. Titian’s Schoolmaster, 54. 
 
 Murillo. Jacob and Rachel, 31. 
 Spanish Girl with Flowers, 36. 
 Spanish Beggar Boys, and Com- 
 
MR. ANGERSTEIN’S COLLECTION. 11 
 
 the three by Titian in the same room. The other 
 two are a Ganymede [32], and a Venus and 
 Adonis [34] ; the last does not appear to us from 
 the hand of Titian. 
 
 The ruddy, bronzed colouring of Raphael gene¬ 
 rally takes off from any appearance of nocturnal 
 watching and languid hectic passion ! The por¬ 
 trait of Julius II. is finished to a great nicety. 
 The hairs of the beard, the fringe on the cap, 
 are done by minute and careful touches of the 
 pencil. In seeing the labour, the conscientious 
 and modest pains, which this great painter be¬ 
 stowed upon his smallest works, we cannot help 
 being struck with the number and magnitude of 
 those he left behind him. When we have a single 
 portrait placed before us, that might seem to 
 have taken half a year to complete it, we wonder 
 how the same painter could find time to execute 
 his cartoons, the compartments of the Vatican, 
 and a thousand other matchless works. The 
 same account serves for both. The more we 
 do, the more we can do. Our leisure (though 
 it may seem a paradox) is in proportion to our 
 industry. The same habit of intense application, 
 which led our artist to bestow as much pains and 
 attention on the study of a single head as if his 
 whole reputation had depended on it, enabled 
 him to set about the greatest works with alacrity, 
 and to finish them with ease. If he had done any 
 thing he undertook to do in a slovenly disreput¬ 
 able manner, he would (upon the same principle) 
 
36 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 splendid sins. They are mechanical, mannered, 
 colourless, and unfeeling. 
 
 No. 248, is Murillo’s Spanish Girl with 
 Flowers. The sun tinted the young gipsey’s 
 complexion, and not the painter.—No. 215, is 
 The Casatella and Villa of Mcecenas, near Tivoli, 
 by Wilson, with his own portrait in the fore¬ 
 ground. It is an imperfect sketch; but there 
 is a curious anecdote relating to it, that he was 
 so delighted with the waterfall itself that he 
 cried out, while painting it: “Well done, water, 
 by G—d !”—No. 324, Saint Cecilia, by Guercino, 
 is a very pleasing picture, in his least gaudy 
 manner.—No. 263, Venus and Adonis, by Titian. 
 We see so many of these Venuses and Adonises 
 that we should like to know which is the true 
 one. This is one of the best we have seen. 
 We have two Francesco Molas in this room, the 
 Rape of Proserpine (No. 285), and a Landscape 
 with a Holy Family (No. 266). This artist 
 dipped his pencil so thoroughly in Titian’s pa¬ 
 lette that his works cannot fail to have that rich, 
 mellow look, which is always delightful.—No, 
 309, Portrait of Philip the Fourth of Spain, by 
 Velasquez, is purity and truth itself. We used 
 to like the Sleeping Nymph, by Titian, when we 
 saw it formerly in the little entrance-room at 
 Besenfans’, but we cannot say much in its praise 
 here.* 
 
 * The editor is not aware of any such picture by Titian 
 in the Dulwich Gallery at present. 
 
THE GR0SVEN0R PICTURES. 91 
 
 want of a proper set of memorandums. Our 
 friend, Mr. Gummow, of Cleveland-house, had 
 a nice little neatly-bound duodecimo Catalogue, 
 of great use as a Vade Mecum to occasional 
 visitants or absent critics—but here we have no 
 such advantage ; and to take notes before com¬ 
 pany is a thing that we abhor. It has a look 
 of pilfering something from the pictures. While 
 we merely enjoy the sight of the objects of art 
 before us, or sympathise with the approving 
 gaze of the greater beauty around us, it is well; 
 there is a feeling of luxury and refinement in 
 the employment; but take out a pocket-book, 
 and begin to scribble notes in it, the date of the 
 picture, the name, the room, some paltry defect, 
 some pitiful discovery (not worth remembering), 
 the non-essentials, the mechanic common-places 
 of the art, and the sentiment is gone—you shew 
 that you have a further object in view, a job 
 to execute, a feeling foreign to the place, and 
 different from every one else—you become a 
 butt and a mark for ridicule to the rest of the 
 company—and you retire with your pockets full 
 of wisdom from a saloon of art, with as little 
 right as you have to carry off the dessert (or 
 what you have not been able to consume), from 
 an inn, or a banquet. Such, at least, is our 
 feeling; and we had rather make a mistake now 
 and then, as to a numero, or the name of a room 
 in which a picture is placed, than spoil our 
 whole pleasure in looking at a fine Collection, 
 
128 
 
 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 long avenue of trees that leads up to the front of 
 this fine old mansion. As they drew nearer to 
 it, and she seemed a little surprised where they 
 were going, he said, “Well, my dear, this is 
 Burleigh-House; it is the home I have promised 
 to bring you to, and you are the Countess of 
 Exeter !” It is said, the shock of this discovery 
 was too much for this young creature, and that 
 she never recovered it. It was a sensation 
 worth dying for. The world we live in was 
 worth making, had it been only for this. Ye 
 Thousand and One Tales of the Arabian Nights' 
 Entertainments ! hide your diminished heads ! I 
 never wish to have been a lord, but when I 
 think of this story. 
 
PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 135 
 
 ancient fable than perhaps any two pictures 
 extant. We shall not dispute that Nicholas 
 Poussin could probably give more of the abstract, 
 metaphysical character of his traditional per¬ 
 sonages, or that Titian could set them off better, 
 so as to “leave stings ” in the eye of the spectator, 
 by a prodigious gusto of colouring, as in his 
 Bacchus and Ariadne: but neither of them gave 
 the same undulating outline, the same humid, 
 pulpy tone to the flesh, the same graceful involu¬ 
 tion to the grouping and the forms, the same 
 animal spirits, the same breathing motion. Let 
 any one look at the figure of the Silenus in the 
 first-mentioned of these compositions; its un¬ 
 wieldy size, its reeling, drunken attitude, its ca¬ 
 pacity for revelling in gross, sensual enjoyment, 
 and contrast it with the figure of the nymph, so 
 light, so wanton, so fair, that her clear crystal 
 skin and laughing grace spread a ruddy glow, 
 and account for the giddy tumult all around her; 
 and say if any thing finer in this kind was ever 
 executed or imagined. In that sort of licentious 
 fancy, in which a certain grossness of expression 
 bordered on caricature, and where grotesque or 
 enticing form was to be combined with free and 
 rapid movements, or different tones and colours 
 were to be flung over the picture as in sport or 
 in a dance, no one ever surpassed the Flemish 
 painter; and some of the greatest triumphs of 
 his pencil are to be found in the Blenheim 
 Gallery. There are several others of his best 
 
148 
 
 on hogarth’s 
 
 Wife dies, are all masterly. We would particu¬ 
 larly refer to the captious, petulant self-sufficiency 
 of the Apothecary, whose face and figure are 
 constructed on exact physiognomical principles, 
 and to the fine example of passive obedience and 
 non-resistance in the Servant, whom he is taking 
 to task, and whose coat of green and yellow livery 
 is as long and melancholy as his face. The dis¬ 
 consolate look, the haggard eyes, the open mouth, 
 the comb sticking in the hair, the broken, gapped 
 teeth, which, as it were, hitch in an answer, 
 every thing about him denotes the utmost per¬ 
 plexity and dismay.—The harmony and gradations 
 of colour in this picture are uniformly preserved 
 with the greatest nicety, and are well worthy the 
 attention of the artist. 
 
 It has been observed that Hogarth’s pictures 
 are exceedingly unlike any other representations 
 of the same kind of subjects—that they form a 
 class, and have a character, peculiar to them¬ 
 selves. It may be worth wihle to consider in 
 what this general distinction consists. 
 
 In the first place, they are, in the strictest sense. 
 Historical pictures ; and if what Fielding says 
 be true, that his novel of Tom Jones ought to be 
 regarded as an epic prose-poem, because it con¬ 
 tained a regular developement of fable, manners, 
 character, and passion, the compositions of 
 Hogarth will, in like manner, be found to have a 
 higher claim to the title of Epic Pictures than 
 many which have of late arrogated that denomi- 
 
182 
 
 ON TIIE FINE ARTS. 
 
 passing movements of the mind. Some persons 
 object to the style of Hogarth’s pictures, or to 
 the class to which they belong. First, Hogarth 
 belongs to no class, or, if he belongs to any, it 
 is to the same class as Fielding, Smollett, Van¬ 
 brugh, and Moliere. Besides, the merit of his 
 pictures does not depend on the nature of his 
 subjects, but on the knowledge displayed of 
 them, in number of ideas, in the fund of obser¬ 
 vation and amusement contained in them. Make 
 what deductions you please for the vulgarity of 
 the subjects—yet in the research, the profundity, 
 the absolute truth and precision of the delineation 
 of character,—in the invention of incident, in 
 wit and humour, in life and motion, in everlast¬ 
 ing variety and originality,—they never have 
 been, and probably never will be, surpassed. 
 They stimulate the faculties as well as amuse 
 them. “ Other pictures we see, Hogarth’s we 
 read! ”* 
 
 There is one error which has been frequently 
 entertained on this subject, and which I wish to 
 correct, namely, that Hogarth's genius was con¬ 
 fined to the imitation of the coarse humour and 
 broad farce of the lowest life. But he excelled 
 quite as much in exhibiting the vices, the folly 
 and frivolity of the fashionable manners of his 
 time. His fine ladies do not yield the palm of 
 
 * See an admirable Essay on the Genius of Hogarth, by 
 Charles Lamb. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 199 
 
 from Richardson and Coypel; and, from some 
 defects in his own practice, he was led to con¬ 
 found negligence with grandeur. But of this 
 hereafter. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds owed his great superiority 
 over his contemporaries to incessant practice and 
 habitual attention to nature, to quick organic 
 sensibility, to considerable power of observation, 
 and still greater taste in perceiving and availing 
 himself of those excellences of others which lay 
 within his own walk of art. I can by no means 
 look upon Sir Joshua as having a claim to the 
 first rank of genius. He would hardly have been 
 a great painter if other great painters had not 
 lived before him. He would not have given a 
 first impulse to the art; nor did he advance any 
 part of it beyond the point where he found it. 
 He did not present any new view of nature, nor 
 is he to be placed in the same class with those 
 who did. Even in colour, his pallet was spread 
 for him by the old masters ; and his eye imbibed 
 its full perception of depth and harmony of tone 
 from the Dutch and Venetian schools rather than 
 from nature. His early pictures are poor and 
 flimsy. He indeed learned to see the finer 
 qualities of nature through the works of art, 
 which he, perhaps, might never have discovered 
 in nature itself. He became rich by the accumu¬ 
 lation of borrowed wealth, and his genius was the 
 offspring of taste. He combined and applied the 
 materials of others to his own purpose with 
 
202 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 and originality of character of many of the per¬ 
 sons whom he painted ; and he had also a great 
 advantage, as far as practice went, in painting a 
 number of persons of every rank and description. 
 Some of the finest and most interesting are those 
 of Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith (which is, however, 
 too much a mere sketch), Baretti, Dr. Burney, 
 John Hunter, and the inimitable portrait of 
 Bishop Newton. The elegant simplicity of 
 character, expression, and drawing, preserved 
 throughout the last picture, even to the attitude 
 and mode of handling, discover the true genius 
 of a painter. I also remember to have seen a 
 print of Thomas Warton, than which nothing 
 could be mere characteristic or more natural. 
 These were all Reynolds’ intimate acquaintance, 
 and it could not be said of them that they were 
 men of “no mark or likelihood.” Their traits 
 had probably sunk deep into the artist’s mind ■ 
 he painted them as pure studies from nature, 
 copying the real image existing before him, with 
 all its known characteristic peculiarities ; and, 
 with as much wisdom as good nature, sacrificing 
 the graces on the altar of friendship. They are 
 downright portraits and nothing more, and they 
 are valuable in proportion. In his portraits of 
 women, on the contrary, with very few excep¬ 
 tions, Sir Joshua appears to have consulted either 
 the vanity of his employers or his own fanciful 
 theory. They have not the look of individual 
 nature, nor have they, to compensate the want 
 
220 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 or by improving the public taste. I shall bestow 
 a short consideration on the influence of each. 
 
 First, a constant reference to the best models 
 of art necessarily tends to enervate the mind, to 
 intercept our view of nature, and to distract the 
 attention by a variety of unattainable excellence. 
 An intimate acquaintance with the works of the 
 celebrated masters may indeed add to the indo¬ 
 lent refinements of taste, but will never produce 
 one work of original genius, one great artist. 
 In proof of the general truth of this observation, 
 I might cite the history of the progress and decay 
 of art in all countries where it has flourished. 
 
 The directors of the British Institution con¬ 
 clude the preface to their catalogue of the works 
 of Hogarth, Wilson, &c., in the following words: 
 “ The present exhibition, while it gratifies the 
 taste and feeling of the lover of art, may tend to 
 excite animating reflections in the mind of the 
 artist : if at a time when the aH received little 
 comparative support such tvorks were produced, a 
 reasonable hope may be entertained that we shall 
 see productions of still higher attainment, under 
 more encouraging circumstances." 
 
 It should seem that a contrary conclusion 
 might more naturally have suggested itself from 
 a contemplation of the collection with which 
 the directors of the institution have so highly 
 gratified the public taste and feeling. When 
 the real lover of art looks round and sees the 
 works of Hogarth and Wilson—works which were 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 241 
 
 of all the melancholy sophistry which they 
 have been taught or have been teaching others 
 for half a century) that the chief excellence of 
 the figures depends on their having been copied 
 from nature, and not from imagination. The 
 communication of art with nature is here every¬ 
 where immediate, entire, palpable. The artist 
 gives himself no fastidious airs of superiority 
 over what he sees. He has not arrived at that 
 stage of his progress described at much length 
 in Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Discourses, in which, 
 having served out his apprenticeship to nature, 
 he can set up for himself in opposition to her. 
 According to the old Greek form of drawing up 
 the indentures in this case, we apprehend they 
 were to last for life. At least, we can compare 
 these Marbles to nothing but human figures 
 petrified: they have every appearance of abso¬ 
 lute facsimiles or casts taken from nature. The 
 details are those of nature ; the masses are 
 those of nature ; the forms are from nature ; 
 the action is from nature; the whole is from 
 nature. Let any one, for instance, look at the 
 leg of the Ilissus or River-God, which is bent 
 under him—let him observe the swell and undu¬ 
 lation of the calf, the inter-texture of the muscles, 
 the distinction and union of all the parts, and 
 the effect of action every where impressed on 
 the external form, as if the very marble were 
 a flexible substance, and contained the various 
 springs of life and motion within itself, and 
 
 R 
 
250 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 veys the strongest sense of pleasure or power, of 
 the sublime or beautiful. 
 
 3. That the ideal is only the selecting a par¬ 
 ticular form which expresses most completely the 
 idea of a given character or quality, as of beauty, 
 strength, activity, voluptuousness, &c., and which 
 preserves that character with the greatest con¬ 
 sistency throughout. 
 
 4. That the historical is nature in action. 
 With regard to the face, it is expression. 
 
 5. That grandeur consists in connecting a 
 number of parts into a whole, and not in leaving 
 out the parts. 
 
 6. That, as grandeur is the principle of con¬ 
 nexion between different parts, beauty is the 
 principle of affinity between different forms, or 
 their gradual conversion into each other. The 
 one harmonizes, the other aggrandizes our im¬ 
 pressions of things. 
 
 7. That grace is the beautiful or harmonious 
 in what relates to position or motion. 
 
 8. That grandeur of motion is unity of mo¬ 
 tion. 
 
 9. That strength is the giving the extremes, 
 softness, the uniting them. 
 
 10. That truth is to a certain degree beauty 
 and grandeur, since all things are connected, and 
 all things modify one another in nature. Sim¬ 
 plicity is also grand and beautiful for the same 
 reason. Elegance is ease and lightness, with 
 precision. 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 263 
 
 superiority consists in this, that it is a perfect 
 combination of art and nature, or an identical, 
 and as it were spontaneous, copy of an individual 
 picked out of a finer race of men than generally 
 tread this ball of earth. Could it be made of a 
 Dutchman’s trunk-hose ? No. Could it be made 
 out of one of Sir Joshua’s Discourses on the 
 middle form ? No. How then ? Out of an eye, 
 a head, and a hand, with sense, spirit, and energy 
 to follow the finest nature, as it appeared ex¬ 
 emplified in sweeping masses, and in subtle 
 details, without pedantry, conceit, cowardice, or 
 affectation ! 
 
 Some one was asking at Mr. Haydon’s one 
 day, as a few persons were looking at the cast 
 from this figure, why the original might not 
 have been done as a cast from nature ? Such a 
 supposition would account at least for what seems 
 otherwise unaccountable—the incredible labour 
 and finishing bestowed on the back and other 
 parts of this figure, placed at a prodigious height 
 against the walls of a temple, where they could 
 never be seen after they were once put up there. 
 If they were done by means of a cast in the first 
 instance, the thing appears intelligible, otherwise 
 not. Our host stoutly resisted this imputation, 
 which tended to deprive art of one of its greatest 
 triumphs, and to make it as mechanical as a 
 shaded profile. So far, so good. But the rea¬ 
 son he gave was bad, viz. that the limbs could 
 not remain in those actions long enough to be 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 287 
 
 visit at the shrine of such beauty, and be buried 
 in the bosom of such verdant sweetness.—Get 
 thee behind us. Temptation ; or not all China 
 and Japan will detain us, and this article will be 
 left unfinished, or found (as a volume of Keats’s 
 poems was carried out by Mr. Ritchie to be 
 dropped in the Great Desert) in the sorriest inn 
 in the farthest part of Spain, or in the marble 
 baths of the Moorish Alhambra, or amidst the 
 ruins of Tadmor, or in barbaric palaces, where 
 Bruce encountered Abyssinian queens ! Any 
 thing to get all this frippery, and finery, and 
 tinsel, and glitter, and embossing, and system 
 of tantalization, and fret-work of the imagina¬ 
 tion out of our heads, and take one deep, long, 
 oblivious draught of the romantic and mar¬ 
 vellous, the thirst of which the fame of - Fonthill 
 Abbey has raised in us, but not satisfied ! 
 
 Mr. Beckford has undoubtedly shown himself 
 an industrious bijoutier, a prodigious virtuoso, 
 an accomplished patron of unproductive labour, 
 an enthusiastic collector of expensive trifles—the 
 only proof of taste (to our thinking) he has 
 shown in this collection is his getting rid of it. 
 What splendour, what grace, what grandeur 
 might he substitute in lieu of it! What a hand¬ 
 writing might be spread out upon the walls! 
 What a spirit of poetry and philosophy might 
 breathe there ! What a solemn gloom, what gay 
 vistas of fancy, like chequered light and shade, 
 might genius, guided by art, shed around! The 
 
290 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEV. 
 
 maker or owner. A shell, however rarely to be 
 met with, however highly wrought or quaintly 
 embellished, can only flatter the sense of curi¬ 
 osity for a moment in a number of persons, or 
 the feeling of vanity for a greater length of time 
 in a single person. There are better things than 
 this (we will be bold to say) in the world both 
 of nature and art—things of universal and last¬ 
 ing interest, things that appeal to the imagina¬ 
 tion and the affections. The village-bell that 
 rings out its sad or merry tidings to old men 
 and maidens, to children and matrons, goes to 
 the heart, because it is a sound significant of 
 weal or woe to all, and has borne no uninterest¬ 
 ing intelligence to you, to me, and to thousands 
 more who have heard it perhaps for centuries. 
 There is a sentiment in it. The face of a Ma¬ 
 donna (if equal to the subject) has also a senti¬ 
 ment in it, “ whose price is above rubies.” It 
 is a shrine, a consecrated source of high and 
 pure feeling, a well - head of lovely expression 
 at which the soul drinks and is refreshed, age 
 after age. The mind converses with the mind, 
 or with that nature which, from long and daily 
 intimacy, has become a sort of second self to it: 
 but what sentiment lies hid in a piece of por¬ 
 celain ? What soul can you look for in a gilded 
 cabinet or a marble slab ? Is it possible there 
 can be any thing like a feeling of littleness or 
 jealousy in this proneness to a merely ornamen¬ 
 tal taste, that, from not sympathising with the 
 
294 
 
 FONTIIILL ABBEY. 
 
 Nine chocolate cups and saucers of egg-shell China, blue 
 lotus pattern ; or. 
 
 Two butter pots on feet, and a bason, cover, and stand, of 
 Japan; or, 
 
 Two basons and covers, sea-green mandarin; or, 
 
 A very rare specimen of the basket-work Japan, orna¬ 
 mented with flowers in relief, of the finest kind, the 
 inside gilt, from the Ragland Museum ; or, 
 
 Two fine enamelled dishes scolloped ; or, 
 
 Two blue bottles and two red and gold cups—extra 
 fine; or, 
 
 A very curious egg-shell lanthern; or, 
 
 Two very rare Japan cups mounted as milk buckets, with 
 silver rims, gilt and chased ; or, 
 
 Two matchless Japan dishes ; or, 
 
 A very singular tray, the ground of a curious wood arti¬ 
 ficially waved with storks in various attitudes on the 
 shore, mosaic border, and aventurine back ; or, 
 
 Two extremely rare bottles with chimaBras and plants, 
 mounted in silver gilt; or, 
 
 Twenty-four fine old seve dessert plates; or, 
 
 Two precious enamelled bowl dishes, with silver han¬ 
 dles ;— 
 
 Or, to stick to the capital letters in this Para¬ 
 dise of Dainty Devices, lest we should be sus¬ 
 pected of singling out the meanest articles, we 
 will just transcribe a few of them, for the satis¬ 
 faction of the curious reader :— 
 
 A Rich and Highly Ornamented Casket of the very 
 rare gold Japan, completely covered with figures. 
 
 An Oriental Sculptured Tassa of Lapis Lazuli, 
 mounted in silver gilt, and set with lapis lazuli in¬ 
 taglios. From the Garde Meuble of the late King of 
 France. 
 
 A Persian Jad Vase and Cover, inlaid with flowers 
 and ornaments composed of oriental rubies and emeralds , 
 on stems of fine gold. 
 
FONTHLIL ABBEY. 
 
 297 
 
 were his impressions that they included the 
 reality in them. The agreeable and the true 
 with him were one. He believed in Sweden- 
 borgianism—he believed in animal magnetism— 
 he had conversed with more than one person 
 of the Trinity—he could talk with his lady at 
 Mantua through some fine vehicle of sense, as 
 we speak to a servant down stairs through an 
 ear-pipe.—Richard Cosway was not the man to 
 flinch from an ideal proposition. Once, at an 
 Academy dinner, when some question was made^ 
 whether the story of Lambert’s leap was true, 
 he started up, and said it was, for he was the 
 man that performed it;—lie once assured us, 
 that the knee-pan of James I. at Whitehall was 
 nine feet across (he had measured it in concert 
 with Mr. Cipriani); he could read in the book 
 of Revelations without spectacles, and foretold 
 the return of Buonaparte from Elba and from 
 St. Helena. His wife, the most lady-like of En- 
 glish-women, being asked, in Paris, what sort 
 of a man her husband was, answered, Toujours 
 riant, toujours gai. This was true. He must 
 have been of French extraction. His soul had 
 the life of a bird ; and such was the jauntiness 
 of his air and manner that, to see him sit to 
 have his half-boots laced on, you would fancy 
 (with the help of a figure) that, instead of a little 
 withered elderly gentleman, it was Venus attired 
 by the Graces. His miniatures were not fash¬ 
 ionable—they were fashion itself. When more 
 
318 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 on the horses in the Elgin collection, which he 
 supposes to have been done under the superin¬ 
 tendence and probably from designs by Phidias; 
 but we are sorry he has not extended his eulo- 
 gium to the figure of the Theseus, which appears 
 to us a world of grace and grandeur in itself, 
 and to say to the sculptor’s art, “ Hitherto shalt 
 thou come, and no further ! ” What went be¬ 
 fore it was rude in the comparison; what came 
 after it was artificial. It is the perfection of 
 style, and would have afforded a much better ex¬ 
 emplification of the force and meaning of that 
 term than the school-boy definition adopted in 
 the lecture on this subject; namely, that as 
 poets and engravers use a stylos, or style, to ex¬ 
 ecute their works, the name of the instrument 
 was metaphorically applied to express the article 
 itself. 'Style properly means the mode of repre¬ 
 senting nature 5 and this again arises from the 
 various character of men’s minds, and the infi¬ 
 nite variety of views which may be taken of 
 nature. After seeing the Apollo, the Hercules, 
 and other celebrated works of antiquity, we 
 seem to have exhausted our stock of admiration, 
 and to conceive that there is no higher perfec¬ 
 tion for sculpture to attain, or to aspire to. 
 But, at the first sight of the Elgin Marbles, we 
 feel that we have been in a mistake, and the an¬ 
 cient objects of our idolatry fall into an inferior 
 class or style of art. They are comparatively, and 
 without disparagement of their vast and almost 
 
334 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 rality, and to treat all these heathen gods and 
 goddesses as a set of very improper people :— 
 as to the Roman bas-reliefs, triumphs and pro¬ 
 cessions, he dismisses them as no better than so 
 many vulgar, ‘ military gazettes.’ He, with due 
 doubt and deference, places Michael Angelo 
 almost above the ancients. His statues will not 
 bear out this claim ; and we have no sufficient 
 means of judging of their paintings. In his se¬ 
 parate groups and figures in the Sistine Chapel, 
 there is, indeed, we think, a conscious vastness 
 of purpose, a mighty movement, like the breath 
 of Creation upon the waiters, that we see in no 
 other works, ancient or modern. The forms of 
 his Prophets and Sibyls are like moulds of 
 thought. Mr. Flaxman is also strenuous in his 
 praises of the Last Judgment; but on that we 
 shall be silent, as we are not converts to his 
 opinion. Michael Angelo’s David and Bacchus, 
 done when he was young, are clumsy and un¬ 
 meaning; even the grandeur of his Moses is con¬ 
 fined to the horns and beard. The only works 
 of his in sculpture, which sustain Mr. Flaxman’s 
 praise, are those in the chapel of Lorenzo de 
 Medici at Florence ; and these are of undoubted 
 force and beauty. 
 
 After the glossiness, and splendour, and gor¬ 
 geous perfection of Grecian art, the whole seems 
 to sink into littleness and insignificance, com¬ 
 pared with the interest we feel in the period of 
 its restoration, and in the rude but mighty ef- 
 
DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 ix 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 187 . 
 
 188 . 
 189 - 
 190 . 
 391 . 
 192 . 
 
 193 . 
 
 194 . 
 
 195 . 
 
 196 . 
 197 - 
 198 . 
 199 - 
 200 . 
 201 . 
 202 . 
 
 203 . 
 
 204 . 
 
 205 . 
 
 206 . 
 207 - 
 208 . 
 
 209 . 
 
 210 . 
 211 . 
 212 . 
 
 213 . 
 
 214 . 
 
 215 . 
 
 216 . 
 
 217 . 
 
 218 . 
 
 219 . 
 
 220 . 
 221 . 
 222 . 
 
 223 . 
 
 224 . 
 
 225 . 
 
 226. 
 
 227 . 
 
 228 . 
 
 229 . 
 
 230 . 
 
 231 . 
 
 232 . 
 
 233 . 
 
 234 . 
 
 235 . 
 
 236 . 
 
 237 . 
 
 238 . 
 
 239 . 
 
 MIDDLE BOOM. 
 
 Portrait of Mary de Medicia. 
 
 The Resurrection of Christ. 
 
 A Man’s Portrait. 
 
 Boors Merry-Making... 
 
 The Judgment of Paris .. 
 
 Cattle and Figures, in Landscape. 
 
 A Young Man Drawing .. 
 
 Portrait of the Prince of Asturias .... 
 
 Hagar and Ishmael. 
 
 View of a Town .. 
 
 F£te Champetre . 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Landscape.*.. 
 
 Figures and Cattle, in Landscape .... 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 View near Rome. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Sketch of St. Barbara. 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 A Girl at a Window . 
 
 Landscape. . 
 
 Buildings, Figures, and Landscape.... 
 
 Figures, Cattle, and Landscape .. 
 
 Le Bal Champetre ...... . 
 
 Holy Family, and Landscape. 
 
 Landscape..... 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 Portrait of Philip, Earl of Pembroke.. 
 
 Maecenas’ Villa near Tivoli ... 
 
 Cattle and Figures, in Landscape .... 
 
 St. Veronica. 
 
 Portrait of the Archduke Albert. 
 
 The Campo Vaccino at Rome. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Arch of Constantine . 
 
 Portrait of a Boy... 
 
 Portrait of William Linley (not num- "i 
 
 bered). / 
 
 Apollo flaying Marsyas.j 
 
 The Crucifixion, (not hung).... 
 
 Head of an old Man . 
 
 Venus Gathering Apples in the Gar- 
 
 den of the Hesperides./ 
 
 Venus Weeping over Adonis, (a Sketch) 
 
 Landscape, with Figures . 
 
 Farrier Shoeing an Ox... 
 
 Jupiter and Europa ........ ....... 
 
 Figures at a Fountain.I 
 
 Landscape. | 
 
 Sketch .I 
 
 Inspiration of a Saint.j 
 
 Portrait of Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 A Sketch . 
 
 A Lady Buying Game.. .... 
 
 Ceres Drinking at the Cottage Door) 
 
 of an Old Woman ...) 
 
 Cows, in Landscape .. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Sebastian Ricci. 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 A. Van Ostade. 
 Vanderwerf. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Salvator Rosa, 
 Velasquez. 
 
 F. Mala. 
 
 Vander Heydon. 
 Watteau. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 Both. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 Hobbema. 
 
 J. Vernet. 
 
 P. Veronese . 
 Rubens. 
 
 Both. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Wynants. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 Watteau. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 K. Du Jar din. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 Herman Swanevelt. 
 Velasquez. 
 
 Sir T. Lawrence. 
 
 G. Lairesse. 
 
 Murillo . 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 Domenichino. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 K . Du Jardin. 
 Titian. 
 
 Zuccarelli. 
 
 G. B. Tiepolo. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Sir W. Beechey. 
 G. B. Tiepolo. 
 
 G. Cogues. 
 Douw. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 xii 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Venus, Mars, and Cupid , 
 
 Children. 
 
 Portrait. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Mother of Rubens . 
 
 350. 
 
 351. 
 
 352. 
 
 353. 
 
 354. 
 
 355. 
 
 Cignani . 
 Rubens. 
 
 N. Poussin, 
 Holbein. 
 Raphael . 
 Rubens, 
 
WILTON HOUSE. 
 
 xlv 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Paiote'l by 
 
 28. 
 
 De Witt. 
 
 Gaspard Netscher . 
 
 29. 
 
 A Sea View . 
 
 Vernet. 
 
 
 THE CORNER ROOM. 
 
 
 30. 
 
 Prince Rupert. 
 
 Vandyck . 
 
 31. 
 
 A Flemish Subject ,. 
 
 Brankenburg. 
 
 32. 
 
 Interior of a Seraglio. 
 
 Otto Venius. 
 
 33. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
 34. 
 
 Dead Christ, with Angels. 
 
 Buffalmacco. 
 
 35. 
 
 Virgin and Christ . 
 
 Raphael . 
 
 36. 
 
 Christ in the Temple. 
 
 Salviati. 
 
 37 . 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Albano. 
 
 38. 
 
 Boy taking Physic. 
 
 Bombaccio . 
 
 39. 
 
 Interior of the Dusseldorf Gallery .... 
 
 Old Franks . 
 
 40. 
 
 Bacchus and Ariadne. 
 
 F. Mold. 
 
 41. 
 
 A Madonna . 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
 42. 
 
 Virgin and Christ . 
 
 Baroccio. 
 
 43. 
 
 Departure of the Prodigal Son. 
 
 Wouvermans . 
 
 44. 
 
 A Landscape... 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 45. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 4G. 
 
 Money Changers. 
 
 Dom. Fetti. 
 
 47- 
 
 Young Woman and Dog . 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 48. 
 
 Ruins and Figures. 
 
 Paulo Panini . 
 
 49- 
 
 Women bringing Children to Christ .. 
 
 Huens. 
 
 50. 
 
 Virgin teaching Christ to read.. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 51. 
 
 Philip Earl of Pembroke . 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 52. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Caracci . 
 
 53. 
 
 Mars and Venus.. 
 
 Vanderwerf. 
 
 54. 
 
 A Landscape... 
 
 Claude. 
 
 55. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 56. 
 
 Dead Christ. 
 
 Michael Angelo. 
 
 57. 
 
 Infant Christ in the Manger. 
 
 Vandyck . 
 
 58. 
 
 The Assumption.. 
 
 Raphael . 
 
 59. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 60 . 
 
 Narcissus . 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 01. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Francesco Penni. 
 
 62 . 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 Sophonisba Angosciola 
 
 63. 
 
 Judith. 
 
 Andrea del Martegna . 
 
 64. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Domenichino. 
 
 65. 
 
 Our Saviour and Joseph. 
 
 Canciagi . 
 
 66. 
 
 Head of Himself. 
 
 Mieris. 
 
 67- 
 
 Judge More (Father of Sir Thos. More) 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 68. 
 
 A Madonna . 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 69. 
 
 Christ taken from the Cross. 
 
 Figino. 
 
 70. 
 
 Market People.. 
 
 Giuseppe Cresci . 
 
 71. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Schedoni. 
 
 72. 
 
 Salutation of the Virgin. 
 
 Daume. 
 
 73. 
 
 Christ bearing the Cross . 
 
 A. del Sarto . 
 
 74. 
 
 The Assumption. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 
 THE NEXT APARTMENT. 
 
 
 75. 
 
 Ceres . 
 
 Parmegiano• 
 
 76. 
 
 Interior of a Church .. 
 
 Sten wick. 
 
 77. 
 
 A Madonna. ... 
 
 Sasso Ferrato. 
 
 78. 
 
 Harmony between Poetry and Painting 
 
 Romanelli , 
 
 79- 
 
 Edward VI. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 80. 
 
 Rape of Deranina. 
 
 P. Cresci. 
 
WILTON HOUSE. 
 
 xlvi: 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Paiuted by 
 
 120. 
 
 121. 
 
 122. 
 
 King Charles I. and his Queen . 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 The first Wife of the second Earl\ 
 
 
 123. 
 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126 . 
 
 Philip. J 
 
 
 Duchess of Richmond, and Mrs. \ 
 Gibson the Dwarf ./ 
 
 
 Countess of Castle-Haven. 
 
 _ 
 
 127. 
 
 Philip, Earl of Pembroke . 
 
GETTY CENTER LIBRARY 
 
 3 3125 00774 7732 
 
MR. ANGERSTEIN S COLLECTION. 
 
 5 
 
 light. We have, perhaps, pampered our ima¬ 
 ginations with it all that time ; its charms have 
 sunk deep into our minds ; we wish to see it 
 once more, that we may confirm our judgment, 
 and renew our vows. The Susannah and the 
 Elders at Mr. Angerstein’s [28]* was one of 
 those that came upon us under these circum¬ 
 stances. We had seen it formerly, among 
 other visions of our youth, in the Orleans 
 Collection,—where we used to go and look at 
 it by the hour together, till our hearts thrilled 
 with its beauty, and our eyes were filled with 
 tears. How often had we thought of it since, 
 how often spoken of it!—There it was still, 
 the same lovely phantom as ever — not as 
 when Rousseau met Madame de Warens, after 
 a lapse of twenty years, who was grown old 
 and wrinkled — but as if the young Jewish 
 Beauty had been just surprised in that unguarded 
 spot — crouching down in one corner of the 
 picture, the face turned back with a mingled 
 expression of terror, shame, and unconquerable 
 sweetness, and the whole figure (with the arms 
 crossed) f shrinking into itself with bewitching 
 grace and modesty! It is by Ludovico Caracci, 
 and is worthy of his name, from its truth and 
 purity of design, its expression and its mellow 
 
 * The figures, within brackets, indicate the present 
 position of these pictures in the N ational Gallery. 
 
 f The critic’s memory, for he never took notes, here 
 fails him; the arms are not crossed. 
 
28 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 a cropped tail, give you their history and thoughts 
 —but from the want of a little arrangement, 
 his figures look too often like spots on a dark 
 ground. When they are properly relieved and 
 disentangled from the rest of the composition, 
 there is an appearance of great life and bustle 
 in his pictures. His horses, however, have too 
 much of the manege in them—he seldom gets 
 beyond the camp or the riding-school. 
 
 This room is rich in master-pieces. Here 
 is the Jacob's Dream, by Rembrandt [179], 
 with that sleeping figure, thrown like a bundle 
 of clothes in one corner of the picture, by 
 the side of some stunted bushes, and with 
 those winged shapes hovering above, not hu¬ 
 man, nor angelical, but bird-like, dream-like, 
 treading on clouds, ascending, descending, 
 through the realms of endless light, that loses 
 itself in infinite space ! No one else could 
 ever grapple with this subject, or stamp it on 
 the willing canvas in its gorgeous obscurity, 
 but Rembrandt! Here also is the St. Barbara 
 of Rubens [204], fleeing from her persecutors; 
 a noble design, as if she were scaling the steps 
 of some high overhanging turret, moving ma¬ 
 jestically on, with Fear before her. Death behind 
 her, and Martyrdom crowning her:—and here 
 is an eloquent landscape by the same master- 
 hand [ 207 ], the subject of which is a shepherd 
 piping his flock homewards through a narrow 
 defile, with a graceful group of autumnal trees 
 
THE 
 
 MARQUIS OR STAFFORD’S GALLERY. 
 
 -<j»- 
 
 Our intercourse with the dead is better than 
 our intercourse with the living. There are only 
 three pleasures in life pure and lasting, and all 
 derived from inanimate things—books, pictures, 
 and the face of nature. What is the world but 
 a heap of ruined friendships, but the grave of 
 love ? All other pleasures are as false and 
 hollow, vanishing from our embrace like smoke, 
 of like a feverish dream. Scarcely can we re¬ 
 collect that they were, or recal without an effort 
 the anxious and momentary interest we took 
 in them. 
 
 But thou, oh! divine Bath of Diana, with 
 deep azure dyes, with roseate hues, spread by 
 the hand of Titian, art still there upon the wall, 
 another, yet the same that thou wert five-and- 
 twenty years ago, nor wantest 
 
 -Forked mountain or blue promontory 
 
 With trees upon't that nod unto the world, 
 
 And mock our eyes with air : 
 
Stafford’s gallf.ry. 
 
 55 
 
 master, is an eye to look at, not to look with,* or 
 if it looks at you, it does not look through you, 
 which may almost be made a test of Titian’s 
 heads. There is not the spirit, the intelligence 
 within, moulding the expression, and giving it 
 intensity of purpose and decision of character. 
 In every other respect but this (and perhaps a 
 certain want of breadth) it is as good as Titian. 
 There is (we understand) a half-length of Cle¬ 
 ment VII. by Julio Romano, in the Papal Palace 
 at Rome, in which he is represented as seated 
 above the spectator, with the head elevated and 
 the eye looking down like a camel’s with an 
 amazing dignity of aspect. The picture (Mr. 
 Northcote says) is hard and ill-coloured, but, in 
 strength of character and conception, superior to 
 the Titian at the Marquis of Stafford’s. Titian, 
 undoubtedly, put a good deal of his own 
 character into his portraits. He was not himself 
 filled with the “ milk of human kindness.” He 
 got his brother, who promised to rival him in 
 his own art, and of whom he was jealous, sent 
 on a foreign embassy; and he so frightened 
 Pordenone, while he was painting an altar-piece 
 for a church, that he worked with his palette 
 and brushes in his hand, and a drawn sword 
 by his side. 
 
 We meet with one or two admirable portraits, 
 particularly No. 112, by Tintoretto, which is of 
 
 * The late Mr. Curran described John Kemble’s eye 
 in these words. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 77 
 
 there are not many such rooms in the world. 
 All other pictures look like oil and varnish to 
 these—we are stopped and attracted by the co¬ 
 louring, the pencilling, the finishing, or the want 
 of it, that is, by the instrumentalities of the art 
 —but here the painter seems to have flung his 
 mind upon the canvas ; his thoughts, his great 
 ideas alone prevail; there is nothing between 
 us and the subject; we look through a frame, 
 and see scripture-histories, and are made actual 
 spectators of miraculous events. Not to speak 
 it profanely, they are a sort of revelation of the 
 subjects of which they treat; there is an ease 
 and freedom of manner about them which 
 brings preternatural characters and situations 
 home to us with the familiarity of common 
 every-day occurrences ; and while the figures 
 fill, raise, and satisfy the mind, they seem to 
 have cost the painter nothing. The Cartoons 
 are unique productions in the art. They are 
 mere intellectual, or rather visible abstractions 
 of truth and nature. Every where else we see 
 the means; here we arrive at the end apparently 
 without any means. There is a Spirit at work 
 in the divine creation before us. We are un¬ 
 conscious of any details, of any steps takep, of 
 any progress made ; we are aware only of com¬ 
 prehensive results, of whole masses and figures. 
 The sense of power supersedes the appearance 
 of effort. It is like a'waking dream, vivid, but 
 undistinguishable in member, joint, or limb ; or 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 85 
 
 enhance the value of the miracle. Its load 
 swells proportionably in comparison, and the 
 waves conspire to bear it up. The Storks on 
 the shore are not the least animated or elevated 
 part of the picture ; they exult in the display of 
 divine power, and share in the prodigality of the 
 occasion. 
 
 The Sacrifice at Lystra [610] has the marks 
 of Raphael’s hand on every part of it. You see 
 and almost hear what is passing. What a 
 pleasing relief to the confused, busy scene, are 
 the two children piping at the altar ! How 
 finely, how unexpectedly, but naturally, that 
 innocent rustic head of a girl comes in over the 
 grave countenances and weighty, thoughtful 
 heads of the group of attendant priests ! The 
 animals brought to be sacrificed are equally fine 
 in the expression of terror, and the action of 
 resistance to the rude force by which they are 
 dragged along. 
 
 A great deal has been said and written on 
 the St. Paul preaching at Athens [611]. The 
 features of excellence in this composition are 
 indeed so bold and striking as hardly to be mis¬ 
 taken. The abrupt figure of St. Paul, his hands 
 raised in that fervent appeal to Him who 
 “ dwelleth not in temples made with hands,” 
 such as are seen in gorgeous splendour all 
 around, the circle of his auditors, the noble and 
 pointed diversity of heads, the one wrapped in 
 
S 6 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 thought and in its cowl, another resting on a 
 crutch and earnestly scanning the face of the 
 Apostle rather than his doctrine, the careless 
 attention of the Epicurean philosopher, the fine 
 young heads of the disciples of the porch or 
 the Academy, the clenched fist and eager cu¬ 
 riosity of the man in front as if he was drink¬ 
 ing sounds, give this picture a superiority 
 over all the others, for popular and intelligible 
 effect. We do not think that it is therefore 
 the best; but it is the easiest to describe and 
 to remember. 
 
 The Giving of the Keys [612] is the last of 
 them : it is at present at Somerset House. 
 There is no set purpose here, no studied con¬ 
 trast : it is an aggregation of grandeur and high 
 feeling. The disciples gather round Christ, like 
 a flock of sheep listening to some divine shep¬ 
 herd. The figure of their master is sublime: 
 his countenance and attitude “ in act to speak.” 
 The landscape is also extremely fine and of a 
 soothing character.—Every thing falls into its 
 place in these pictures. The figures seem to 
 stop just where their business and feelings 
 bring them: not a fold in the draperies can be 
 disposed of for the better or otherwise than 
 it is. 
 
 It would be in vain to enumerate the par¬ 
 ticular figures, or to explain the story of works 
 so well known : what we have aimed at has 
 
THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 101 
 
 those at Cleveland-house, that the former are 
 distinguished most by elegance, brilliancy, and 
 high preservation ; while those belonging to the 
 Marquis of Stafford look more like old pictures, 
 and have a corresponding tone of richness and 
 magnificence. We have endeavoured to do jus¬ 
 tice to both, but we confess we have fallen very 
 short even of our own hopes and expectations. 
 
144 
 
 ON HOGARTH S 
 
 attitude of the Bride, courted by the Lawyer. 
 There is the utmost flexibility, and yielding 
 softness in her whole person, a listless languor 
 and tremulous suspense in the expression of her 
 face. It is the precise look and air which Pope 
 has given to his favourite Belinda, just at the 
 moment of the Rape of the Lock. The heightened 
 glow, the forward intelligence, and loosened soul 
 of love in the same face, in the assignation 
 scene before the masquerade, form a fine and 
 instructive contrast to the delicacy, timidity, and 
 coy reluctance expressed in the first. The 
 Lawyer in both pictures is much the same— 
 perhaps too much so—though even this un¬ 
 moved, unaltered appearance may be designed 
 as characteristic. In both cases he has “ a 
 person, and a smooth dispose, framed to make 
 women false.” He is full of that easy good- 
 humour and easy good opinion of himself, with 
 which the sex are delighted. There is not a 
 sharp angle in his face to obstruct his success, 
 or give a hint of doubt or difficulty. His whole 
 aspect is round and rosy, lively and unmeaning, 
 happy without the least expense of thought, 
 careless and inviting; and conveys a perfect 
 idea of the uninterrupted glide and pleasing- 
 murmur of the soft periods that flow from his 
 tongue. 
 
 The expression of the Bride in the Morning 
 scene is the most highly seasoned, and at the 
 same time the most vulgar, in the series. The 
 
on iiogarth’s 
 
 152 
 
 be admired ; and in the little Master, in the same 
 national group, we see the early promise and 
 personihcation of that eternal principle of won¬ 
 drous self-complacency, proof against all cir¬ 
 cumstances, and which makes the French the 
 only people who are vain even of being cuckolded 
 and being conquered! Or shall we prefer to 
 this the outrageous distress and unmitigated 
 terrors of the Boy who has dropped his dish of 
 meat, and who seems red all over with shame 
 and vexation, and bursting with the noise he 
 makes ? Or what can be better than the good 
 housewifery of the Girl underneath, who is 
 devouring the lucky fragments, or than the 
 plump, ripe, florid, luscious look of the Servant- 
 wench embraced by a greasy rascal of an Othello, 
 with her pie-dish tottering like her virtue, and 
 with the most precious part of its contents run¬ 
 ning over? Just—no, not quite—as good is 
 the joke of the woman over head, who, having 
 quarrelled with her husband, is throwing their 
 Sunday’s dinner out of the window, to complete 
 this chapter of accidents of baked-dishes. The 
 husband in the Evening Scene is certainly as 
 meek as any recorded in history ; but we cannot 
 say that we admire this picture, or the Night 
 Scene after it. But then, in the Taste in High 
 Life, there is that inimitable pair, differing only 
 in sex, congratulating and delighting one another 
 by “ all the mutually reflected charities ” of 
 folly and affectation, with the young Lady co- 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 153 
 
 loured like a rose, dandling her little, black, pug¬ 
 faced, white-teethed chuckling favourite, and 
 with the portrait of Mons. Des Noyers in the 
 back-ground, dancing in a grand ballet, sur¬ 
 rounded by butterflies. And again, in the Elec¬ 
 tion-dinner, [Soane Museum 53] is the immortal 
 Cobler, surrounded by his Peers, who, “ frequent 
 and full,”-— 
 
 “ In loud recess and brawling conclave sit: ” 
 
 the Jew in the second picture [Soane Museum 
 56], a very Jew in grain;—innumerable fine 
 sketches of heads in the Polling for Votes 
 [Soane Museum 73], of which the Nobleman 
 over-looking the caricaturist is the best;—and 
 then the irresistible tumultuous display of broad 
 humour in the Chairing the Member [Soane 
 Museum 78], which is, perhaps, of all Hogarth’s 
 pictures, the most full of laughable incidents 
 and situations—the yellow, rusty-faced Thresher, 
 with his swinging flail, breaking the head of 
 one of the Chairmen, and his redoubted an¬ 
 tagonist, the Sailor, with his oak - stick, and 
 stumping wooden leg, a supplemental cudgel 
 —the persevering ecstasy of the hobbling blind 
 Fiddler, who, in the fray, appears to have been 
 trod upon by the artificial excrescence of the 
 honest Tar—Monsieur, the Monkey, with piteous 
 aspect, speculating the impending disaster of 
 the triumphant candidate, and his brother Bruin, 
 appropriating the paunch—the precipitous flight 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 209 
 
 do not destroy their symmetry nor dignity of 
 form; and in the finest specimens of the com¬ 
 position of colour we may observe the largest 
 masses combined with the greatest variety in the 
 parts of which these masses are composed. 
 
 The gross style consists in giving no detail, 
 the finical in giving nothing else. Nature con¬ 
 tains both large and small parts, both masses 
 and details; and the same may be said of the 
 most perfect works of art. The union of both 
 kinds of excellence, of strength with delicacy, as 
 far as the limits of human capacity and the 
 shortness of human life would permit, is that 
 which has established the reputation of the most 
 successful imitators of nature. Farther, their 
 most finished works are their best. The pre¬ 
 dominance, indeed, of either excellence in the 
 best masters has varied according to their opinion 
 of the relative value of these qualities,—the la¬ 
 bour they had the time or the patience to bestow 
 on their works,—-the skill of the artist,—-or the 
 nature and extent of his subject. But if the 
 rule here objected to, that the careful imitation 
 of the parts injures the effect of the whole, be 
 once admitted, slovenliness would become an¬ 
 other name for genius, and the most unfinished 
 performances be the best. That such has been 
 the confused impression left on the mind by the 
 perusal of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ ‘Discourses,’ is 
 evident from the practice as well as conversation 
 of many (even eminent) artists. The late Mr. Opie 
 
 p 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 211 
 
 admirable, use of this power; and those who 
 copy his pictures will find that the simplicity is 
 in the results, not in the details. To conclude 
 my observations on this head, I will only add 
 that, while the artist thinks there is any thing to 
 be done, either to the whole or the parts of his 
 picture, which can give it still more the look of 
 nature, if he is willing to proceed, I would not 
 advise him to desist. This rule is the more 
 necessary to the young student, for he will relax 
 in his attention as he grows older. And again, 
 with respect to the subordinate parts of a picture, 
 there is no danger that he will bestow a dispro¬ 
 portionate degree of labour upon them, because 
 he will not feel the same interest in copying 
 them, and because a much less degree of accuracy 
 will serve every purpose of deception. 
 
 Secondly,—With regard to the imitation of 
 expression, I can hardly agree, with Sir Joshua, 
 that “ the perfection of portrait-painting consists 
 in giving the general idea or character without 
 the individual peculiarities.” No doubt, if we 
 had to choose between the general character and 
 the peculiarities of feature, we ought to prefer 
 the former. But they are so far from being in¬ 
 compatible with, that they are not without some 
 difficulty distinguishable from, each other. There 
 is a general look of the face, a predominant ex¬ 
 pression arising from the correspondence and 
 connexion of the different parts, which it is of 
 the first and last importance to give, and without 
 
 p 2 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 OQy 
 
 agination habitually raised to an over-strained 
 standard of refinement, by the sight of the most 
 exquisite examples in art, he becomes impatient 
 and dissatisfied with his own attempts, deter¬ 
 mines to reach the same perfection all at once, 
 or throws down his pencil in despair. Thus the 
 young enthusiast, whose genius and energy were 
 to rival the great masters of antiquity, or create 
 a new era in the art itself, baffled in his first 
 sanguine expectations, reposes in indolence on 
 what others have done,—wonders how such per¬ 
 fection could have been achieved,-—grows fa¬ 
 miliar with the minutest peculiarities of the dif¬ 
 ferent schools,—flutters between the splendour 
 of Rubens and the grace of Raphael,—finds it 
 easier to copy pictures than to paint them, easier 
 to see than to copy them, and ends in nothing. 
 Such was not Correggio. He saw and felt for 
 himself; he was of no school, but had his own 
 world of art to create. That image of truth and 
 beauty which existed in his mind he was forced 
 to construct for himself, without rules or models. 
 As it could only have arisen in his mind from 
 the contemplation of nature, so he could only 
 hope to embody it to others by the imitation of 
 nature^ I can conceive the work growing under 
 his hand by slow and patient touches, approach¬ 
 ing nearer to perfection, softened, into finer grace, 
 gaining strength from delicacy, and at last re¬ 
 flecting the pure image of nature on the canvas. 
 Such is always the true progress of art; such 
 
 <3 2 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 257 
 
 themselves, they will hardly agree together. 
 One will have a different character from the 
 other; and they will form a sort of natural 
 patchwork. 
 
 Or, to avoid this, will you take neither from 
 actual models, but derive them from the neu¬ 
 tralizing medium of your own imagination ? 
 Worse and worse. Copy them from the same 
 model, the best in all its parts you can get; 
 so that, if you have to alter, you may alter as 
 little as possible, and retain nearly the whole 
 substance of nature. You may depend upon 
 it that what is so retained will alone be of any 
 specific value.* The rest may have a negative 
 merit, but will be positively good for nothing. 
 It will be to the vital truth and beauty of what 
 is taken from the best nature, like the piecing 
 of an antique statue. It fills a gap, but nothing 
 more. It is, in fact, a mental blank. 
 
 2. This leads us to the second point laid down 
 before, which was that the highest art is the imi¬ 
 tation of the finest nature, or, in other words, of 
 that which conveys the strongest sense of pleasure 
 or power, of the sublime or beautiful. 
 
 The artist does not pretend to invent an abso¬ 
 lutely new class of objects, without any founda¬ 
 tion in nature. He does not spread his palette 
 on the canvas, for the mere finery of the thing, 
 
 * I believe this rale will apply to all except grotesques, 
 which are evidently taken from opposite natures. 
 
 S 
 
304 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 After giving a condensed and patriotic sketch 
 of the rise and early progress of sculpture in 
 our own country/Mr. Flaxman proceeds to trace 
 the progress of the art, and the growing passion 
 for it among the English, through the reign of 
 Henry VII. to the period when its prospects 
 were blighted by the Reformation, and many of 
 its monuments defaced by the Iconoclastic fury 
 of the Puritans and zealots in the time of 
 Charles I. The lecturer seems to be of opinion 
 that the genius of sculpture in our island Avas 
 arrested in the full career of excellence, and 
 when it was approaching the goal of perfection, 
 by these two events ; which drew aside the 
 public attention, and threw a stigma on the 
 encouragement of sacred sculpture ; whereas, it 
 would perhaps be just as fair to argue that 
 these events would never have happened had it 
 not been for a certain indifference in the national 
 character to mere outward impressions, and a 
 slowness to appreciate, or form an enthusiastic 
 attachment to, objects that appeal only to the 
 imagination and the senses. We may be in¬ 
 fluenced by higher and more solid principles,— 
 reason and philosophy; but that makes nothing 
 to the question. Mr. Flaxman bestows great 
 and deserved praise on the monuments of Aylmer 
 de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, and Edmund 
 Crouchback, in Westminster Abbey, which are 
 by English artists, whose names are preserved ; 
 but speaks slightingly of the tomb of Henry VII., 
 
324 
 
 FLAXMANS LECTURES 
 
 thus :—“Every art, every method and institution, 
 every action and council, seems to seek some 
 good ; therefore the ancients pronounced the 
 beautiful to be good.” Much, indeed, might be 
 collected from this philosopher’s treatises on 
 morals, poetics, and physiognomy, of the greatest 
 importance to our subject; but for the present 
 we shall produce only two quotations from 
 Xenophon’s Memorabilia, which contain the im¬ 
 mediate application of these principles to the 
 arts of design. In the dialogue between Socrates 
 and the sculptor Clito, Socrates concludes that 
 “ Statuary must represent the emotions of the 
 soul by form;” and in the former part of the 
 same dialogue, Parrhasius and Socrates agree 
 that “ the good and evil qualities of the soul 
 may be represented in the figure of man by 
 painting.” In the applications from this dialogue 
 to our subject, we must remember, philosophy 
 demonstrates that rationality and intelligence, 
 although connected with animal nature, rise 
 above it, and properly exist in a more exalted 
 state. From such contemplations and maxims, 
 the ancient artists sublimated the sentiments of 
 their works, expressed in their choicest forms 
 of nature; thus they produced their divinities, 
 heroes, patriots, and philosophers, adhering to 
 the principle of Plato, that “ nothing is beautiful 
 which is not good ;” it was this which, in ages 
 of polytheism, and idolatry, still continued to 
 enforce a popular impression of divine attributes 
 and perfection.” 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 331 
 
 the most beautiful woman of the time, with 
 diminished charms and a finer name added to 
 her. With respect to ideal expression, it is 
 superior to common every-day expression, no 
 doubt; that is, it must be raised to correspond 
 with lofty characters placed in striking situa¬ 
 tions 5 but it is tame and feeble compared with 
 what those characters would exhibit in the sup¬ 
 posed circumstances. The expressions in the 
 Incendio del Borgo are striking and grand ; but 
 could we see the expression of terror in the com¬ 
 monest face in real danger of being burnt to 
 death, it would put all imaginary expressions to 
 shame and flight. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman makes an attempt to vindicate 
 the golden ornaments,and eyes of precious stones, 
 in the ancient statues, as calculated to add to the 
 awe of the beholder, and inspire a belief in their 
 preternatural power. In this point of view, or 
 as a matter of religious faith, we are not tena¬ 
 cious on the subject, any more than we object 
 to the wonder-working images and moving eyes 
 of the patron saints in popish churches. But 
 the question, as it regards the fine arts in gene¬ 
 ral, is curious, and treated at some length, and 
 with considerable intricacy and learning, by the 
 Lecturer. 
 
 He observes that adding flesh-colour to statues 
 gives an appearance of death to them, because 
 the colour of life without motion argues a suspen¬ 
 sion of the vital powers. The same might be said 
 
APPENDIX I, 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 IN THE 
 
 NATIONAL GALLERY. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 2 . 
 
 3 . 
 
 4 . 
 
 5 . 
 
 6 . 
 
 7 . 
 
 8 . 
 
 9 . 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 . 
 
 12 . 
 
 13 . 
 
 14 . 
 
 15 . 
 
 16 . 
 
 17 . 
 
 18 . 
 19 - 
 2 ). 
 
 21 . 
 
 22 . 
 
 23 . 
 
 The Raising of Lazarus.| 
 
 Landscape—Reconciliation of Cepha- \ 
 
 lus and Procris.. J 
 
 A Music-master and Pupils. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Italian Sea-port at Sunset. 
 
 Landscape—Sinon brought before'! 
 
 Priam (The Chigi Claude ) .J 
 
 Study of Heads... 
 
 Michael Angelo’s Dream. 
 
 Christ appearing to Peter. 
 
 Mercury instructing Cupid in the ] 
 
 presence of Venus .j 
 
 St. Jerome. 
 
 A Landscape—Rebecca awaiting Isaac 
 
 A Holy Family..... 
 
 Sea-port—Embarkation of the Queen 1 
 
 of Sheba. / 
 
 The “ Ecce Homo ” .. 
 
 St. George and the Dragon. 
 
 The Holy Family .{ 
 
 Christ disputing with the doctors .... 
 
 Landscape-Narcissus .. 
 
 Portraits of Cardinal Hippolito de’ 
 Medici and of Sebastian del PiomboJ 
 
 Portrait of a Lady. 
 
 A Dead Christ with Angels . 
 
 The Holy Family (La Vierge au Punier) 
 
 Michael Angelo and Se¬ 
 bastian del Piumbo. 
 Claude. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 Michael Angelo. 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 Correggio. 
 
 Guido Reni. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 Tintoretto . 
 
 Andrea del Sarto , oi 
 one of his pupils. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Sebastian del Piornbo. 
 
 C. A. Bronzino. 
 Guercino. 
 
 Correggio. 
 a 
 
VI 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 30 . 
 
 31 . 
 
 32 . 
 
 33 . 
 
 34 . 
 
 35 . 
 
 36 . 
 
 37. 
 
 38 . 
 
 39 . 
 
 40 . 
 
 41 . 
 
 42 . 
 
 43 . 
 
 44. 
 
 45 . 
 
 46 . 
 
 47 . 
 
 48 . 
 
 49 . 
 
 50 . 
 
 51 . 
 
 52 . 
 
 53 . 
 
 54 . 
 
 55 . 
 
 56 . 
 
 57 . 
 
 58 . 
 
 59 . 
 
 60. 
 61. 
 63 . 
 
 63 . 
 
 64 . 
 
 65 . 
 
 66 . 
 
 67. 
 
 68 . 
 
 69. 
 
 70 . 
 
 71 . 
 
 72 . 
 
 73 . 
 
 74 . 
 
 75 . 
 
 76. 
 77* 
 
 78 . 
 
 79. 
 
 80 . 
 
 81 . 
 
 82 . 
 
 83. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Buildings and Cascade. 
 
 Pan and Syrinx . 
 
 Circle of Cupids . 
 
 Magdalen in a Cave. 
 
 Hermit before a Cross, in a Cave .... 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Blowing Hot and Cold. 
 
 Landscape and Cattle. 
 
 Flowers .. 
 
 St. Barbara . 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Apollo and Daphne. 
 
 Ruins and Landscape. 
 
 Publican crowned with Vine Leaves "I 
 
 before his Door.J 
 
 Cavalry Skirmishing . 
 
 Shepherd, Sheep, and Landscape. 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Jan Both. 
 
 11 Bourgognone, 
 
 G. Lairesse. 
 liubens. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Jan Both. 
 
 Jordaens. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Jan Both. 
 
 G. Lairesse. 
 
 11 Bourgognone. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Peter Snayers. 
 Teniers. 
 
 K. Du Jardin. 
 
 Figures and Vessels in-shore. 
 
 Guard-Room,with Armour, Drums, &c. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Peasants before a Cottage Door. 
 
 Haymakers and Landscape. 
 
 Boors Regaling in an Ale-house. 
 
 Landscape and Cattle. 
 
 Village on Fire. 
 
 Religion in the Desert. 
 
 Sketch .. 
 
 Boys, Sheep, Goats, and Landscape .. 
 A Sow and Pigs .. 
 
 Vernet. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Jacob Ruysdael. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 A. Brouwer. 
 
 De Loutherbourg. 
 Teniers. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois . 
 
 G. B. Tiepolo. 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Horseman and Landscape. 
 
 K. Du Jardin . 
 
 P. Wouvermans. 
 
 
 
 A Bull. 
 
 J. H. Ommeganck. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Figures, Bridge, and Landscape. 
 
 An Old Man. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 
 Paul Potter. 
 Teniers. 
 
 An Old Woman (not hung). 
 
 Cattle, Sheep, and Landscape. 
 
 A. Vandevelde. 
 
 Woman with a Pitcher and Glass .... 
 
 A. Van Ostade. 
 
 Soldiers and Landscape. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 A Sea-storm. 
 
 Backhuysen. 
 
 Banks of a River and Cows. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 A Market with Figures. 
 
 Lingelbach. 
 
 Four Saints—A Sketch. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Interior of a Cathedral . 
 
 P. Neefs. 
 
 Salmacis and Hermaphroditus, (not) 
 
 hung). J 
 
 The Infant Jesus, (not hung). 
 
 Francesco Albano. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 A Funeral Procession, (not hung) .... 
 
 Of these pictures the situation is occupied by por¬ 
 traits of Mrs. Moody and her two children, by Oaius 
 horough. 
 
 Cows, Sheep, Horse, and Peasant, in 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Landscape. J 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 XVII 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Pirtnre. 
 
 Pauiteil by 
 
 179. 
 
 180. 
 181. 
 182. 
 
 183. 
 
 184. 
 
 185. 
 
 186. 
 
 187. 
 
 188. 
 189 - 
 190. 
 101 . 
 192 } 
 
 to V 
 2043 
 205) 
 206 J 
 
 Duchess of Richmond .. 
 
 Nell Gwyn .... 
 
 Countess of Rochester . 
 
 Duchess of Somerset . 
 
 Mrs. Lawson . 
 
 Countess of Northumberland . 
 
 Lady Denham... 
 
 Countess of Sunderland . 
 
 Lady Middleton . 
 
 Lady Whitmore ......... 
 
 Countess of Ossory . 
 
 Duchess of Cleveland ... 
 
 Countess de Grammont . 
 
 Small Portraits of Ladies, whose 
 names are unknown . 
 
 Flower-pieces . 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Verelst. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Russell , after Vandyck. 
 Baptist . 
 
 THE KING’S DRESSING ROOM. 
 
 207. 
 
 208 1 
 
 209. 
 
 210 . 
 211 . 
 
 212 . 
 
 213 1 
 
 214 J 
 
 215. 
 
 216. 
 
 217. 
 
 218. 
 
 219. 
 
 220 . 
 221 . 
 222 . 
 
 223. 
 
 224. 
 
 The ceiling . 
 
 A Shepherd and Shepherdess . 
 
 Charity .. 
 
 Cupid and Psyche... 
 
 Vulcan delivering the Armour of) 
 
 Achilles to Thetis .j 
 
 Achilles presented to the Centaur .... 
 Landscapes . 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 Poultry... 
 
 Virgin teaching the Infant to read.... 
 
 A Mother and two Children. 
 
 A Warrior .. ..... 
 
 A Sibyl... 
 
 A Magdalen’s Head . 
 
 Head of the Virgin . 
 
 Head of Christ . 
 
 The Interior of the Colonna Gallery .. 
 
 Verrio. 
 
 Collins . 
 
 Carlo Cignani. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 A. Balestra. 
 
 Edema. 
 
 Loten. 
 Hondekoter. 
 Carlo Cignani. 
 
 Guercino. 
 Gentileschi. 
 Sasso Ferrata. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 225) 
 226/ 
 227. 
 
 228. 
 
 229. 
 
 230. 
 231) 
 232/ 
 
 233. 
 
 234. 
 
 235. 
 
 236. 
 237 ( 
 238/ 
 
 THE KING’S WRITING CLOSET. 
 
 Still Life ... 
 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and ) 
 
 Family.. . / 
 
 A Village Repast . 
 
 The Triumph of Flora . 
 
 The Painter in his Study. 
 
 Flower-pieces. 
 
 A Sea-piece. 
 
 Judith with the Head of Holofernes .. 
 
 A Turkey Carpet . 
 
 Poultry. 
 
 Flower-pieces. 
 
 De Heem. 
 
 G. Honthorst. 
 
 G. F. Cepper. 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 G. F. Cepper. 
 J. Baptist. 
 
 Monamy. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Maltese. 
 
 Bogdane. 
 
 b 
 
APPENDIX IV, 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 1. 
 
 
 Vandyck, 
 
 2.' 
 
 King Charles I. his Queen Henrietta"'] 
 Maria, and two of their children, 1 
 Prince Charles (3 years old) and [ 
 
 the Princess Mary. J 
 
 The Duchess of Richmond, with the"! 
 
 3. 
 
 
 4. 
 
 attributes of St. Agnes . J 
 
 Thomas Killigrew, and Thomas Carew 
 Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I.. 
 
 Anastasia Venetia, Lady Digby. 
 
 George Villiers, second Duke of Buck- 'j 
 ingham, and his brother Lord > 
 
 Thomas Villiers, as boys.J 
 
 The Prince of Carignano, grandfather 'i 
 
 
 
 6. 
 
 7■ 
 
 
 
 8. 
 
 
 9- 
 
 10. 
 
 li. 
 
 of Prince Eugene.J 
 
 Queen Henrietta Maria. 
 
 The Princess Beatrice de Canteroze .. 
 
 
 
 
 12. 
 
 Charles I. Three Heads in three 
 
 
 13. 
 
 14. 
 
 15. 
 
 16 . 
 
 17. 
 
 18. 
 
 19. 
 
 20. 
 
 points of View.J 
 
 Queen Henrietta Maria. 
 
 Lucy Percy, Countess of Carlisle. 
 
 Sir Kenelm Digby . 
 
 
 
 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 
 
 The Countess of Dorset. 
 
 Three of Charles I.*s Children, Prince T 
 Charles, Duke of York, and the > 
 Princess Mary.J 
 
 
 
 
 
XXX VI 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 72. 
 
 73. 
 
 74. 
 
 75. 
 
 76. 
 
 77- 
 
 78. 
 
 79- 
 
 80. 
 
 81. 
 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 99. 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 . 
 
 102 . 
 
 103. 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106. 
 107- 
 108. 
 109- 
 110 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 112 . 
 
 113. 
 
 114. 
 
 115. 
 
 116 . 
 
 117. 
 
 118. 
 
 St. Christopher. 
 
 An Encampment. 
 
 Windsor Castle, in the year 1672 . 
 
 The Woman of Samaria. 
 
 A Holy Family, with St. Luke and 1 
 St. Ignatius Loyola worshipping.. J 
 
 The Antiquarian. 
 
 St. Catherine of Alexandria. 
 
 An Officer of the Pope’s Guard . 
 
 Landscape, with Horses . 
 
 Windsor Castle— temp. Charles II.. .. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 St. Matthew writing his Gospel. 
 
 The Music Lesson. 
 
 A Virgin and Child . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Interior of a Church . 
 
 A Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Mary Magdalen anointing the feet of'i 
 
 our Saviour ./ 
 
 Landscape—Companion to No. 80. 
 
 Still Life. 
 
 St. Peter released from Prison .... { 
 
 The Duke of Florence’s Gardener .. { 
 
 Interior of a Dutch Cottage. 
 
 A Holy Family, with St. George, St. ■> 
 
 Stephen, and St. Jerome.J 
 
 A Holy Family, St. John wiping the"i 
 
 feet of our Saviour.J 
 
 Interior of a Church . 
 
 Ferdinand Alvarez, Duke of Alva. 
 
 IN THE king’s COUNCIL CHAMBER. 
 
 Prince Rupert. 
 
 Cleopatra applying the Asp. 
 
 Sea Piece—the Story of Jonah. 
 
 Minerva. 
 
 Head of an Old Woman . 
 
 St. Paul (a head).... 
 
 A Sea Port.—Morning . 
 
 St. John the Baptist. 
 
 A Sybil . 
 
 A Woody Landscape. 
 
 St. Peter (a head) . 
 
 Portrait of the German Merchant "1 
 
 Stallhof. j 
 
 A Female Head ... 
 
 St. Catherine of Alexandria. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Head of a young German .. 
 
 A wild, rocky Landscape . 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Charles II. 
 
 The daughter of Herodias, with the 
 Head of St. John the Baptist .... / 
 
 Adam Helzheimer. 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 John Vorsterman. 
 Guei'tino. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Mireveldt. 
 
 Domenicliino. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Adrian Vandervelde. 
 Vorsterman, 
 
 Guercino, 
 
 Eglon Vanderneer. 
 
 Da rid Teniers , after 
 Titian. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 
 Peter Neefs. 
 Wouvermans . 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 Francis Franks . 
 
 H. Steenwick the 
 younger. 
 
 Francia Bigio or An¬ 
 drea del Sarto. 
 
 Jan Steen. 
 
 Teniei'S. 
 
 Camillo Procaccini . 
 Peter Neefs. 
 
 Sir Antonio More. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Ga'par Poussin. 
 Parmegiano. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Guercino. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 Guercitio. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 And. del Sarto. 
 [After] L. da Vinci. 
 Garofolo. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 G. Poussin • 
 
 C. Dolce. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 C. Dolce . 
 
GROSVENOR HOUSE. 
 
 xli 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 The Holy Family... 
 
 The Meeting of David and Abigail.... 
 
 St. Agnes. 
 
 Landscape with Figures . 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 Head of a Madonna . 
 
 The Tribute Money . 
 
 Landscape, with Figures .. 
 
 The Virgin and Child, with St. Francis 
 
 Morning ; a Landscape. 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine . 
 
 David and Bathsheba. 
 
 The Circumcision. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Areas and Calisto. 
 
 Portrait of Countess Mattei. 
 
 The Israelites returning thanks for"! 
 
 Water in the Desert . ) 
 
 The Virgin with the Infant Christ'! 
 
 Sleeping. J 
 
 Boys at Play. 
 
 The Marriage Feast . .. 
 
 The Virgin with the Infant Christ, St. “i 
 
 James, and other Saints./ 
 
 The Virgin and Child, with St. John.. 
 
 Landscape, with Figures . 
 
 Holy Family... 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering . 
 
 The Repose. 
 
 A Landscape, with the Repose. 
 
 The Tent of Darius. 
 
 St. John preaching in the Wilderness 
 
 St. John in the Desert. 
 
 The Repose, with Angels. 
 
 The Conversion of St. Paul. 
 
 Infant Christ Sleeping and St. John .. 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering. 
 
 The Virgin, with the Infant Sleeping 'i 
 
 and St. John.J 
 
 The Holy Family, with Angels. 
 
 St. Luke Painting the Virgin. 
 
 The Entombment of Christ. 
 
 A Boar Hunt .. 
 
 The Israelites worshipping the "i 
 
 Golden Calf ../ 
 
 The Meeting of Abraham and Mel- \ 
 
 chisedek./ 
 
 Landscape, with' Story of Jupiter and"! 
 Antiope, and View of the Town and > 
 
 Castle of Cadore. J 
 
 Christ’s Sermon on the Blount . 
 
 Fortune. 
 
 Landscape: Evening. 
 
 The Israelites Gathering the Manna... 
 
 St. Bruno. 
 
 | Landscape: Morning (Companion to j 
 
 I The Evangelists... 
 
 I The Meeting of Jacob and Laban .... 
 
 20 . 
 
 21 . 
 
 22 . 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 
 26. 
 27- 
 28. 
 
 29 . 
 
 30. 
 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 
 33. 
 
 34. 
 
 35. 
 
 36. 
 
 37. 
 
 38. 
 
 39. 
 
 40. 
 
 41. 
 
 42. 
 
 43. 
 
 44. 
 
 45. 
 
 46. 
 47- 
 
 48. 
 
 49. 
 60. 
 
 51. 
 
 52. 
 
 53. 
 
 54. 
 
 65. 
 
 56. 
 
 67. 
 
 58. 
 
 69- 
 
 60 . 
 
 62. 
 
 63. 
 
 64. 
 
 65. 
 
 66 . 
 
 67. 
 
 68 . 
 69. 
 
 L. da Vinci . 
 Domenichino. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 Pietro Perugino . 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 G. Bellini. 
 Velasquez. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Giovanni Bellini. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 Bartolomeo. 
 Guido Reni. 
 Barroccio . 
 Claude. 
 
 Lebrun. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Baroccio. 
 
 Snyders. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Guido Reni . 
 Claude. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Andrea Sacchi. 
 Claude. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 BURLEIGH HOUSE, 
 
 NORTHAMPTONSHIRE, 
 
 CI)e Jjcat of t!)f jSffarqut'g of <£ytttv. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painte'l by 
 
 GREAT HALL. 
 
 Portrait of Launcelot Brown, Esq.. 
 
 Interior and Exterior Views of Burleigh 
 
 House . 
 
 Sir W. Raleigh and his Son.. , 
 
 CHAPEL ROOM. 
 
 Head of St. John Baptist. 
 
 David dancing before the Ark. 
 
 Creation of the World . 
 
 Cupid Sleeping . 
 
 Queen of Heaven . 
 
 St. Cecilia ... 
 
 Adoration of the Wise Men. 
 
 Christ with a Garland of Flowers . 
 
 Jesus and the Woman of Samaria. 
 
 Death of Elizabeth. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 St. Clara . 
 
 Virgin in the Clouds. 
 
 St. Philippo Neri .. 
 
 Titian’s Wife and Son. 
 
 Christ and St. Peter. 
 
 Head of an Angel .. 
 
 Prodigal Son.. 
 
 St. John. 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul. 
 
 I [After] N. Holland. 
 Garrard. 
 \An0ny7n0us . 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 Dmnenichino. 
 
 Pan franco. 
 Franceschini. 
 
 Albert Durer. 
 
 [After] Dumenichino. 
 F. Vunni. 
 
 [After] C. Dolce. 
 Guercino. 
 
 Andrea Sacchi. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 [After] A. Durer. 
 
 A. Curacci. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Fra Cozza. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Giulio Clovio. 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 APPENDIX, continued: 
 
 CATALOGUE OP PICTURES AT GROSVENOR 
 
 HOUSE . Xl 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT WILTON .... xlir 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT STOURHEAD. xlviii 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT LONGFORD 
 
 CASTLE. lvi 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT BURLEIGH .. Ixii 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT BLENHEIM . . lxXVli 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT THE BODLEIAN 
 
 LIBRARY .-JXXsiii 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 
 
 51 
 
 tion of rich distilled perfumes.” In the figures, 
 in the landscape, in the water, in the sky, there 
 are tones, colours, scattered with a profuse 
 and unerring hand, gorgeous, but most true, 
 dazzling with their force, but blended, softened, 
 woven together into a woof like that of Iris— 
 tints of flesh colour, as if you saw the blood 
 circling beneath the pearly skin ; clouds em¬ 
 purpled with setting suns: hills steeped in azure 
 skies 5 trees turning to a mellow brown; the 
 cold grey rocks, and the water so translucent 
 that you see the shadows and the snowy feet of 
 the naked nymphs in it. With all this prodiga¬ 
 lity of genius, there is the greatest severity and 
 discipline of art. The figures seem grouped for 
 the effect of colour—the most striking contrasts 
 are struck out, and then a third object, a piece 
 of drapery, an uplifted arm, a bow and arrows, 
 a straggling weed, is introduced to make an in¬ 
 termediate tint, or carry on the harmony. Every 
 colour is melted, impasted into every other, 
 with fine keeping and bold diversity. Look at 
 that indignant, queen-like figure of Diana (more 
 perhaps like an offended mortal princess than 
 an immortal Goddess, though the immortals 
 could frown and give themselves strange airs), 
 and see the snowy, ermine-like skin; the pale 
 clear shadows of the delicately formed back; 
 then the brown colour of the slender trees 
 behind to set off the shaded flesh; and last, the 
 dark figure of the Ethiopian girl behind, com- 
 
 e 2 
 
56 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 a fine fleshy tone, and A Doge of Venice, by 
 Palma Vecchio, stamped with an expressive 
 look of official and assumed dignity. There is a 
 Bassano, No. 95, The Circumcision, the colours 
 of which are somewhat dingy with age, and 
 sunk into the canvas ; but as the sun shone 
 upon it while we were looking at it, it glittered 
 all green and gold. Bassano’s execution is as 
 fine as possible, and his colouring has a most 
 striking harmonious effect. 
 
 We must not forget the Muleteers, supposed 
 to be by Correggio, in which the figure of the 
 mule seems actually passing across the picture 
 (you hear his bells) ; nor the little copy of his 
 Marriage of St. Catherine, by L. Caracci, which 
 is all over grace, delicacy, and sweetness. 
 Any one may judge of his progress in a taste 
 for the refinements of art, by his liking for this 
 picture. Indeed, Correggio is the very essence 
 of refinement. Among other pictures in the 
 Italian division of the gallery, we would point 
 out the Claudes (particularly Nos. 43 and 50,) 
 which, though inferior to Mr. Angerstein’s as 
 compositions, preserve more of the delicacy of 
 execution, (or what Barry used to call “ the fine 
 oleaginous touches of Claude ”)—two small Gas- 
 par Poussins, in which the landscape seems to 
 have been just washed by a shower, and the 
 storm blown over. 
 
 The Death of Adonis, by Luca Cambiasi, an 
 Orleans picture, lovely in sorrow, and in speech- 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 79 
 
 and relieved by the other human interests in the 
 picture. The Ananias is a masterly, a stupen¬ 
 dous figure. The attitude, the drawing, the ex¬ 
 pression, the ease, the force, are alike wonderful. 
 He falls so naturally that it seems as if a person 
 could fall in no other way; and yet of all the 
 ways in which a human figure could fall, it is 
 probably the most expressive of a person over¬ 
 whelmed by and in the grasp of Divine ven¬ 
 geance. This is, in some measure, we apprehend, 
 the secret of Raphael’s success. Most painters, 
 in studying an attitude, puzzle themselves to find 
 out what will be picturesque, and what will be 
 fine, and never discover it: Raphael only thought 
 how a person would stand or fall naturally in 
 such or such circumstances, and the picturesque 
 and the fine followed as matters of course. Hence 
 the unaffected force and dignity of his style, 
 which are only another name for truth and nature 
 under impressive and momentous circumstances. 
 The distraction of the face, the inclination of the 
 head on one side, are as fine as possible, and the 
 agony is just verging to that point in which it is 
 relieved by death. The expression of ghastly 
 wonder in the features of the man on the floor 
 next him is also remarkable; and the mingled 
 beauty, grief, and horror in the female head 
 behind can never be enough admired or extolled. 
 The pain, the sudden and violent contraction of 
 the muscles, is as intense as if a sharp instru¬ 
 ment had been driven into the forehead, and yet 
 
98 
 
 THE G KO SVEN Oil PICTURES. 
 
 the opposite side of a stream, at which cattle 
 stooped to drink, there grew a stately grove, 
 erect, with answering looks of beauty: the dis¬ 
 tance between retired into air and gleaming 
 shores. Never was there scene so fair, “ so ab¬ 
 solute, that in itself summ’d all delight.” How 
 did we wish to compare it with the picture ! The 
 trees, we thought, must be of vernal green—the 
 sky recalled the mild dawn, or softened evening. 
 No, the branches of the trees are red, the sky 
 burned up, the whole hard and uncomfortable. 
 This is not the picture, the print of which we 
 used to gaze at enamoured—there is another 
 somewhere that we still shall see! 
 
 There are finer specimens of the Morning and 
 Evening of the Roman Empire, at Lord Radnor’s, 
 in Wiltshire. Those here have a more polished, 
 cleaned look, but we cannot prefer them on that 
 account. In one corner of the room is a St. 
 Bruno, by Andrea Sacchi—a fine study, with pale 
 face and garments, a saint dying (as it should 
 seem)—but, as he dies, conscious of an undying 
 spirit. The old Catholic painters put the soul 
 of religion into their pictures—for they felt it 
 within themselves. 
 
 There are two Titians— the Woman taken in 
 Adultery, and a large mountainous landscape 
 with the story of Jupiter and Antiope. The last 
 is rich and striking, but not equal to his best; 
 and the former, we think, one of his most ex¬ 
 ceptionable pictures, both in character, and (we 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 117 
 
 some of his inimitable works ! The name of 
 Rembrandt lives in the fame of him who 
 stamped it with renown, while the name of 
 Burleigh is kept up by the present owner. An 
 artist survives in the issue of his brain to all 
 posterity—a lord is nothing without the issue of 
 his body lawfully begotten, and is lost in a long 
 line of illustrious ancestors. So much higher is 
 genius than rank—such is the difference between 
 fame and title! A great name in art lasts for 
 centuries—it requires twenty generations of a 
 noble house to keep alive the memory of the 
 first founder for the same length of time. So 
 I reasoned, and was not a little proud of my 
 discovery. 
 
 In this dreaming mood, dreaming of deathless 
 works and deathless names, I went on to Peter¬ 
 borough, passing, as it were, under an arch-way 
 of Fame, 
 
 -“ and, still walking under. 
 
 Found some new matter to look up and wonder.” 
 
 I had business there: I will not say what. I 
 could at this time do nothing. I could not 
 write a line—I could not draAV a stroke. “ I 
 was brutishj” though not “like warlike as the 
 wolf, nor subtle as the fox for prey.” In words, 
 in looks, in deeds, I was no better than a change¬ 
 ling. Why then do I set so^ much value on my 
 existence formerly ? Oh God ! that I could but 
 be for one day, one hour, but for an instant, 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 119 
 
 feelings. As our hopes leave us, we lose even 
 our interest and regrets for the past. I had at 
 this time, simple as I seemed, many resources. 
 I could in some sort “ play at bowls with the 
 sun and moon;” or, at any rate, there was no 
 question in metaphysics that I could not bandy 
 to and fro, as one might play at cup-and-ball, 
 for twenty, thirty, forty miles of the great North 
 Road, and at it again, the next day, as fresh as 
 ever. > I soon get tired of this now, and wonder 
 how I managed formerly. I knew Tom Jones 
 by heart, and was deep in Peregrine Pickle. I 
 was intimately acquainted with all the heroes 
 and heroines of Richardson’s romances, and 
 could turn from one to the other as I pleased. 
 I could con over that single passage in Pamela 
 about “ her lumpish heart,” and never have 
 done admiring the skill of the author and the 
 truth of nature. I had my sports and recreations 
 too, some such as these following:— 
 
 “To see the sun to bed, and to arise, 
 
 Like some hot amourist, with glowing eyes 
 Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound him. 
 
 With all his fires and travelling glories round him. 
 Sometimes the moon on soft night clouds to rest, 
 
 Like beauty nestling in a young man’s breast. 
 
 And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keep 
 Admiring silence while those lovers sleep. 
 
 Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness, 
 
 Nought doing, saying little, thinking less, 
 
 To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air, 
 
 Go eddying round and small birds how they fare, 
 
130 
 
 PICTURES AT OXFORD. 
 
 Helicon, its Christ - Church meadows, classic, 
 Elysian fields !—We could pass our lives in 
 Oxford without having or wanting any other 
 idea—that of the place is enough. We imbibe 
 the air of thought; we stand in the presence of 
 learning. We are admitted into the Temple of 
 Fame, we feel that we are in the sanctuary, on 
 holy ground, and “ hold high converse with the 
 mighty dead.” The enlightened and the ignorant 
 are on a level, if they have but faith in the 
 tutelary genius of the place. We may be wise 
 by proxy, and studious by prescription. Time 
 has taken upon himself the labour of thinking; 
 and accumulated libraries leave us leisure to 
 be dull. There is no occasion to examine the 
 buildings, the churches, the colleges, by the 
 rules of architecture, to reckon up the streets, to 
 compare it with Cambridge (Cambridge lies out 
 of the way, on one side of the world)—but woe to 
 him who does not feel in passing through Oxford 
 that he is in “ no mean city,” that he is surrounded 
 with the monuments and lordly mansions of the 
 mind of man, outvying in pomp and splendour 
 the courts and palaces of princes, rising like an 
 exhalation in the night of ignorance, and 
 triumphing over barbaric foes, saying, “All eyes 
 shall see me, and all knees shall bow to me !” 
 —as the shrine where successive ages came to 
 pay their pious vows, and slake the sacred thirst 
 of knowledge, where youthful hopes (an endless 
 flight) soared to truth and good, and where the 
 
136 
 
 PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 pictures on sacred subjects, such as the Flight into 
 Egypt, and the illustration of the text, “ Suffer 
 little children to come unto me.” The head and 
 figure and deportment of the Christ, in this last 
 admirable production, are nobly characteristic 
 (beyond what the painter usually accomplished 
 in this department)—the face of a woman hold¬ 
 ing a young child, pale, pensive, with scarce any 
 shadow, and the head of the child itself (looking 
 as vacant and satisfied as if the nipple had just 
 dropped from its mouth) are actually alive. 
 Those who can look at this picture with indiffer¬ 
 ence, or without astonishment at the truth of 
 nature, and the felicity of execution, may rest 
 assured that they know as little of Rubens as of 
 the Art itself. Vandyke, the scholar and rival of 
 Rubens, holds the next place in this Collection. 
 There is here, as in so many other places, a 
 picture of the famous Lord Strafford, with his 
 Secretary—both speaking heads, and with the 
 characters finely diversified. We were struck 
 also by the delightful family picture of the 
 Duchess of Buckingham and her Children, but 
 not so much (we confess it) as we expected from 
 our recollection of this picture a few years ago. 
 It had less the effect of a perfect mirror of fashion 
 in “ the olden time,” than we fancied to ourselves 
 —the little girl had less exquisite primness and 
 studied gentility, the little boy had not the same 
 chubby, good-humoured look, and the colours in 
 his cheek had faded—nor had the mother the 
 
140 
 
 PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 gentleman, clad in a buff-jerkin, and somewhat 
 of a formalist in his approaches and mode of ad¬ 
 dress ; but there is a Cupid playing on the floor, 
 who might well turn the world upside down. 
 1. Cupid and Psyche. The Cupid is perhaps 
 rather a gawky, awkward stripling, with eager, 
 open-mouthed wonder: but did ever creature of 
 mortal mould see any thing comparable to the 
 back and limbs of the Psyche, or conceive or 
 read any thing equal to it, but that unique 
 description in the Troilus and Cressida of 
 Chaucer ? 3. Apollo and Daphne. Not equal to 
 
 the rest. 4. Hercules and Dejanira. The female 
 figure in this picture is full of grace and anima¬ 
 tion, and the arms that are twined round the 
 great son of Jove are elastic as a bended bow. 
 5. Vulcan and Ceres. 6. Pluto and Proserpine. 
 7. Jupiter and lo. Very fine. And finest of all, 
 and last, Neptune and Amphitrite. In this last 
 work it seems “ as if increase of appetite did 
 grow with what it fed on.” What a face is that 
 of Amphitrite for beauty and for sweetness of 
 expression! One thing is remarkable in these 
 groups (with the exception of two) which is that 
 the lovers are all of them old men; but then 
 they retain their beards (according to the custom 
 of the good old times !) and this makes not only 
 a picturesque contrast, but gives a beautiful soft¬ 
 ness and youthful delicacy to the female faces 
 opposed to them. Upon the whole, this series 
 of historic compositions well deserves the atten- 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 143 
 
 in general have only seized on those things in 
 his works which were suited to their own taste, 
 and have reflected their own grossness back 
 upon the writer. So it has happened that the 
 majority of critics having been most struck with 
 the strong and decided expression in Hogarth, 
 the extreme delicacy and subtle gradations of 
 character in his pictures have almost entirely 
 escaped them. In the first picture of the 
 Marriage h-la- Mode, the three figures of the 
 young Nobleman, his intended Bride, and her 
 inamorato, the Lawyer, shew how much Hogarth 
 excelled in the power of giving soft and effemi¬ 
 nate expression. They have, however, been less 
 noticed than the other figures, which tell a 
 plainer story, and convey a more palpable moral. 
 Nothing can be more finely managed than 
 the differences of character in these delicate 
 personages. The Beau sits smiling at the 
 looking-glass, with a reflected simper of self¬ 
 admiration, and a languishing inclination of the 
 head, while the rest of his body is perked up on 
 his high heels with a certain air of tip-toe 
 elevation. He is the Narcissus of the reign of 
 George II., whose powdered peruke, ruffles, gold 
 lace, and patches, divide his self-love unequally 
 with his own person,—the true Sir Plume of 
 his day; 
 
 “ Of amber-lidded snuff-box justly vain, 
 
 And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.” 
 
 There is the same felicity in the figure and 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 183 
 
 ridicule to his waiting-maids, and his lords and 
 his porters are on a very respectable footing of 
 equality. He is quite at home either in St. 
 Giles’s or St. James’s. There is no want, for 
 example, in his Marriage a-la-Mode, or his Taste 
 in High Life, of affectation verging into idiotcy, 
 or of languid sensibility that might 
 
 “ Die of a rose in aromatic pain.” 
 
 Many of Hogarth’s characters would form ad¬ 
 mirable illustrations of Pope's ‘ Satires,’ who was 
 contemporary with him. In short, Hogarth was 
 a painter of real, not of low, life. He was, as 
 we have said, a satirist, and consequently his pen¬ 
 cil did not dwell on the grand and beautiful, but 
 it glanced with equal success at the absurdities 
 and peculiarities of high or low life, “ of the 
 great vulgar and the small.” 
 
 To this it must be added that he was as great 
 a master of passion as of humour. He succeeded 
 in low tragedy as much as in low or genteel 
 comedy, and had an absolute power in moving 
 the affections and rending the hearts of the 
 spectators, by depicting the effects of the most 
 dreadful calamities of human life on common 
 minds and common countenances. Of this the 
 Rake’s Progress, particularly the Bedlam Scene, 
 and many others, are unanswerable proofs. Ho¬ 
 garth’s merits as a mere artist are not confined 
 to his prints. In general, indeed, this is the 
 case. But when he chose to take pains, he could 
 
190 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 spective, Wilson had great truth, harmony, and 
 depth of local colouring. He had a fine feeling 
 of the proportions and conduct of light and shade, 
 and also an eye for graceful form, as far as re¬ 
 gards the bold and varying outlines of indefinite 
 objects, as may be seen in his foregrounds, hills, 
 &c.; where the mind is left to muse according 
 to an abstract principle, as it is filled or affected 
 agreeably by certain combinations, and is not 
 tied down to an imitation of characteristic and 
 articulate forms. In his figures, trees, cattle, 
 and in every thing having a determinate and re¬ 
 gular form, his pencil was not only deficient in 
 accuracy of outline, but even in perspective and 
 actual relief. His trees, in particular, seem 
 pasted on the canvas, like botanical specimens. 
 In fine, I cannot subscribe the opinion of those 
 who assert that Wilson was superior to Claude 
 as a man of genius; nor can I discern any other 
 grounds for this opinion than what would lead to 
 the general conclusion, that the more slovenly 
 the work the finer the picture, and that that 
 which is imperfect is superior to that which 
 is perfect. It might be said, on the same 
 principle, that the coarsest sign - painting is 
 better than the reflection of a landscape in a 
 mirror. The objection that is sometimes made 
 to the mere imitation of nature cannot be made 
 to the landscapes of Claude, for in them the graces 
 themselves have, with their own hands, assisted 
 in selecting and disposing every object. Is the 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 223 
 
 are likely, by mere operation of natural causes, 
 to produce a greater comic painter, a more pro¬ 
 found describer of manners, than Hogarth > or 
 even that the lights and expectations heid out in 
 the preface to the British Catalogue, will enable 
 some one speedily to surpass the general excel¬ 
 lence of Wilson’s landscapes ? Is there any the¬ 
 ory in the history of art to warrant such a con¬ 
 clusion,—to suppose this theory of progressive 
 perfectibility under the. auspices of patrons and 
 vice-patrons, presidents and select committees ? 
 On the contrary, as far as the general theory is 
 concerned, the traces of youth, manhood, and old 
 age, are almost as distinctly marked in the his¬ 
 tory of the art as of the individual. The arts 
 have in general risen rapidly from their first ob¬ 
 scure dawn to their meridian height and greatest 
 lustre, and have no sooner reached this proud 
 eminence than they have as rapidly hastened to 
 decay and desolation. It is a little extraordinary 
 that, if the real sources of perfection are to 
 be sought in schools, in models, and public 
 institutions, that wherever there are schools, 
 models, and public institutions, there the art 
 should regularly disappear; that the effect should 
 never follow from the cause. The Greek statues 
 remain to this day unrivalled, the undisputed 
 standard of the most perfect symmetry of form. 
 What then has the genius of progressive improve¬ 
 ment been doing all this time ? Has he been 
 reposing after his labours ? How is it that the 
 moderns are still so far behind, notwithstanding 
 
228 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 are the necessary means by which the greatest 
 works of every kind have been produced. They 
 have been the effect of power gathering strength 
 from exercise, and warmth from its own im¬ 
 pulse— stimulated to fresh efforts by conscious 
 success, and by the surprise and strangeness of 
 a new world of beauty opening to the delighted 
 imagination. The triumphs of art were victo¬ 
 rious over the difficulties of art; the prodigies 
 of genius, the result of that strength which had 
 grappled with nature. Titian copied even a 
 plant or a piece of common drapery from the 
 objects themselves ; and Raphael is known to 
 have made elaborate studies of the principal 
 heads in his pictures. All the great painters of 
 this period were thoroughly grounded in the 
 first principles of their art; had learned to copy 
 a head, a hand, or an eye, and had acquired pa¬ 
 tience to finish a single figure before they un¬ 
 dertook to paint extensive compositions. They 
 knew that though Fame is represented with her 
 head above the clouds, her feet rest upon the 
 earth. Genius can only have its full scope where, 
 though much may have been done, more remains 
 to do; where models exist chiefly to show the 
 deficiencies of art, and where the perfect idea is 
 left to be filled up in the painter’s imagination. 
 Where the stimulus of novelty and necessary 
 exertion is wanting, generations repose on what 
 has been done for them by their predecessors, 
 as individuals, after a certain period, rest satis- 
 
230 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 for gingerbread toys. True patronage does not 
 consist in ostentatious professions of high keep¬ 
 ing, and promiscuous intercourse with the arts. 
 At the same time the good that might be done 
 by private taste and benevolence is in a great 
 measure defeated. The moment that a few 
 individuals of discernment and liberal spirit 
 become members of a public body, they are no 
 longer anything more than parts of a machine, 
 which is usually wielded at will by some offi¬ 
 cious, overweening pretender ; their good sense 
 and good nature are lost in a mass of ignorance 
 and presumption; their names only serve to 
 reflect credit on proceedings in which they have 
 no share, and which are determined upon by a 
 majority of persons who have no interest in 
 the arts, but what arises to them from the im¬ 
 portance attached to them by regular organiza¬ 
 tion, and no opinions but what are dictated to 
 them by some self-constituted judge. When¬ 
 ever vanity and self-importance are (as in gene¬ 
 ral they must be) the governing principles of 
 systems of public patronage, there is an end 
 at once of all candour and directness of conduct. 
 Their decisions are before the public : and the 
 individuals who take the lead in these decisions 
 are responsible for them. They have therefore 
 to manage the public opinion, in order to secure 
 that of their own body. Hence, as far as I have 
 had an opportunity of observing the conduct 
 of such bodies of men, instead of taking the 
 
264 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 cast. Yet surely this would take a shorter time 
 than if the model sat to the sculptor j and we 
 all agreed that nothing but actual, continued, 
 and intense observation of living nature could 
 give the solidity, complexity and refinement of 
 imitation which we saw in the half animated, 
 almost moving, figure before us.* Be this as 
 it may, the principle here stated does not reduce 
 art to the imitation of what is understood by 
 common or low life. It rises to any point of 
 beauty or sublimity you please, but it rises only 
 as nature rises exalted with it too. To hear 
 these critics talk, one would suppose there was 
 nothing in the world really worth looking at. 
 The Dutch pictures were the best that they 
 could paint: they had no other landscapes or 
 faces before them. Horn soit qui mal y pense. 
 Yet who is not alarmed at a Venus by Rem¬ 
 brandt ? The Greek statues were (cum grano sails) 
 Grecian youths and nymphs ; and the women in 
 the streets of Rome (it has been remarked f) 
 look to this hour as if they had walked out of 
 Raphael’s pictures. 
 
 Nature is always truth: at its best, it is 
 beauty and sublimity as well; though Sir Joshua 
 tells us in one of the papers in the Idler that 
 
 * Some one finely applied to the repose of this figure 
 the words : 
 
 -Sedet, in rcternumque sedebit, 
 
 Infelix Theseus. 
 
 f By Mr. Coleridge. 
 
312 
 
 FLAXMAN S LECTURES 
 
 force, and pathos in individual forms; and it is 
 equally certain that “ slight observation” will 
 not answer the end, if all but learned pedantry 
 is to be accounted casual and superficial. This 
 is to throw a slur on the pursuit, and an impedi¬ 
 ment in the way of the art itself. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman seems here to suppose that our 
 observation is profound and just, not according 
 to the delicacy, comprehensiveness, or steadiness 
 of the attention we bestow upon a given object, 
 but depends on the discovery of some other 
 object, which was before hid; or on the inter¬ 
 vention of mechanical rules, which supersede 
 the exercise of our senses and judgments,—as 
 if the outward appearance of things was con¬ 
 cealed by a film of abstraction, which could only 
 be removed by the spectacles of books. Thus, 
 anatomy is said to be necessary “ to represent 
 the bones, muscles, tendons, and veins, as they 
 appear on the surface of the human body;” so 
 that it is to be presumed that the anatomist, 
 when he has with his knife and instruments laid 
 bare the internal structure of the body, sees at 
 a glance what he did not before see; but that 
 the artist, after poring over them all his life, 
 is blind to the external appearance of veins, 
 muscles, &c., till the seeing of what is concealed 
 under the skin enables him, for the first time, 
 to see what appears through it. 
 
 We do not deny that the knowledge of the 
 internal conformation helps to explain and to 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 XXVll 
 
 No. Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted 
 
 by 
 
 6931 
 704 J 
 
 Twelve Saints 
 
 THE QUEEN’S TRIVATE CHAMBER. 
 
 D. Fetti. 
 
 705. 
 
 706. 
 
 707. 
 
 708 . 
 
 709- 
 
 710. 
 
 711. 
 
 712. 
 
 713. 
 
 714. 
 
 715. 
 
 716. 
 717- 
 718 . 
 
 719. 
 
 720. 
 
 721 . 
 722. 
 
 723. 
 
 724. 
 
 725. 
 
 Buildings and Figures . 
 
 Queen of George II. and her Son, \ 
 Wiliiam, Duke of Cumberland ... / 
 The Emperor Charles VI. 
 
 A Jewish Rabbi .{ 
 
 A Spanish Boy. 
 
 Lucretia. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 Anne, Duchess of York. 
 
 The Infant Duke of Gloucester, with 1 
 
 a Bird./ 
 
 St. Christopher, with Saints. 
 
 A Portrait of William III. 
 
 The Queen of James I. 
 
 Tobit restored to Sight. 
 
 George I. 
 
 James I... 
 
 George II. 
 
 Cattle in a Landscape. 
 
 Dead Game, with Fruit... 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine... 
 
 Frederick, Prince of Wales, when \ 
 
 Young...J 
 
 A Landscape... 
 
 Ghisolfl . 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 Kneller. 
 
 Gainsborough , after 
 Rembrandt. 
 Murillo. 
 
 P. Bordone. 
 
 R. Savery. 
 
 Sir P. Lely. 
 
 L. Cranack. 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Van Somer. 
 
 M. de Vos. 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 Van Sumer. 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 
 M. Carre. 
 
 Snyders . 
 
 [Aftef] Correggio. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Bankers. 
 
 THE king’s PRIVATE DRESSING 
 ROOM. 
 
 7271 
 
 7301 
 
 731 » 
 744/ 
 
 745" 
 
 746- 
 
 747- 
 7481 
 
 749 J 
 
 750 
 
 751 
 to 
 
 753 
 
 754. 
 
 755. 
 
 756 
 
 757 
 
 5 
 
 } 
 
 758. 
 
 759 . 
 
 760 . 
 
 Caroline, Queen of George II. 
 
 Four Doges of Venice . 
 
 GEORGE THE SECOND’S PRIVATE 
 CHAMBER. 
 
 Flower Pieces . 
 
 Fruit. 
 
 Fruit. 
 
 A Flower Piece .. 
 
 Flower Pieces. 
 
 Grapes .... 
 
 Flower Pieces with Insects. 
 
 Portrait of a Female with Flowers .. 
 
 Fruit. 
 
 Boys with Flowers . 
 
 IN THE NEXT CLOSET. 
 
 Judith with the Head of Holofernes 
 
 Lord Hoiderness.. 
 
 Lucretia.. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Fialetti. 
 
 Baptiste. 
 
 Van Aelst. 
 
 M. A. Campidoglio. 
 Bogdane. 
 
 Mario di Fiori. 
 
 M. A. Campidoglio. 
 Withoos. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 M. A. Campidoglio. 
 S. Ricci . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
xxxviii APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 Painted by 
 
 152. 
 
 153. 
 
 George III. in the Robes of the Garter Gainsborough. 
 William IV. in the Robes of the Garter Shee. 
 
 GREAT BANQUETING ROOM, OR 
 WATERLOO CHAMBER. 
 
 154. 
 
 155. 
 
 156. 
 
 157. 
 
 158. 
 
 159. 
 
 160. 
 161 . 
 162. 
 
 163. 
 
 164. 
 
 165. 
 
 166. 
 
 167. 
 
 168. 
 
 169. 
 
 170 . 
 
 171. 
 
 172. 
 1/3. 
 
 174. 
 
 175. 
 
 176 . 
 177- 
 J78. 
 
 179. 
 
 180. 
 181. 
 182. 
 
 183. 
 
 184. 
 
 185. 
 
 186. 
 187- 
 188. 
 
 189. 
 
 190. 
 
 Frederick, Duke of York . 
 
 Lord Castlereagh. 
 
 George IV. 
 
 George III. 
 
 Lord Hill, late Commander in Chief.. 
 
 William IV. 
 
 The Earl of Liverpool. 
 
 The Duke of Cambridge . 
 
 The Due d’Angoul&me, eldest son of \ 
 
 Charles X.J 
 
 General Sir Thomas Picton. 
 
 Archduke Charles of Austria. 
 
 Prince Schwartzenburg. 
 
 Charles X. of France. 
 
 Major General Sir George Wood. 
 
 William Frederick, Duke of Brunswick 
 
 Major General Czermeheff . 
 
 The Duke de Richelieu. 
 
 Prince Metternich . 
 
 Count Capo D’Istrias. 
 
 Pope Pius VII . 
 
 Count Nesselrode . 
 
 Alexander I. of Russia . 
 
 Francis II. of Austria.. 
 
 Frederick William III. of Prussia .... 
 
 Prince Hardenberg. 
 
 Cardinal Consalvi. 
 
 George Canning . 
 
 Count Altieri. 
 
 Prince Blucher. 
 
 Duke of Wellington . 
 
 Count Platoff . 
 
 Sir James Kemp. 
 
 Marquis of Anglesea . 
 
 Ernest Frederick, Count Munster .... 
 
 Lord Bathurst. 
 
 General Overoff . 
 
 Humboldt. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Beechey. 
 Pickers gill. 
 Wilkie. 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Shee. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Pic/cersgill. 
 
 Shee. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 st. George’s hall. 
 
 191. 
 
 192. 
 
 193. 
 
 194. 
 
 195. 
 
 196. 
 
 197. 
 
 198. 
 199- 
 200 . 
 
 201 . 
 
 George IV. 
 
 George III.... . 
 
 George II. 
 
 George I. 
 
 Queen Anne ... 
 William IV.... 
 Queen Mary II 
 
 James II. 
 
 Charles II. 
 
 Charles I. 
 
 James I. 
 
 Dupont. 
 
 Zeeman 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 A Copy after 
 Somer. 
 
 Van 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 xlvi 
 
 No 
 
 81. 
 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 86 . 
 
 87. 
 
 88 . 
 89 - 
 
 90. 
 
 91. 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96 . 
 97- 
 
 98. 
 
 99- 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 . 
 
 102 . 
 
 103. 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106 . 
 
 107- 
 
 108. 
 
 109. 
 
 110 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 112 . 
 
 113. 
 
 114. 
 
 115. 
 
 116. 
 
 117. 
 
 118. 
 
 119. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 
 Andrea Sacchi. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 A. Caracci. 
 
 Rubens . 
 
 Titian. 
 
 V andervelde . 
 
 
 Soldiers tearing our Saviour’s Coat.... 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sulimbeni. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Schedoni. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 B. Peruzzi. 
 
 Simon da Pesaro. 
 Giulio Romano . 
 
 Rosa di Tivoli. 
 
 Dobson. 
 
 Bloemart. 
 
 Vandyck . 
 
 
 
 
 Birth of St. John. 
 
 
 
 
 
 GREAT ANTI-ROOM. 
 
 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 Zuccurelli. 
 
 Sebastian del Piombo. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Reynolds . 
 
 Theodora. 
 
 Bartolomeo. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 Anotiymous . 
 
 
 Apollo flaying Marsyas. 
 
 John, Duke of Marlborough . 
 
 Henry, Earl of Pembroke. 
 
 Portrait of Himself . 
 
 Dowager Countess of Pembroke, and 1 
 her Son, the late Earl ./ 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 A Landscape.. 
 
 An Ancient Painting from the Temple ) 
 of Juno .j 
 
 SINGLE CUBE ROOM. 
 
 (The Ceiling, representing the Story of 
 Dcedalus and Icarus, painted by 
 Gios. Arpino .) 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. James Herbert. 
 
 Mrs. Killigrew, and Mrs. Morton .... 
 
 Earl and Countess of Bedford. 
 
 Countess of Pembroke and her Sister.. 
 
 Thomas, Earl of Pembroke. 
 
 Lady Catherine Herbert. 
 
 Christ and the Woman of Samaria.... 
 Margaret, Countess of Pembroke .... 
 
 Lely. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Lely. 
 Wissing. 
 Kneller. 
 Gius. C/iiari. 
 Wissing. 
 
 GREAT CUBE ROOM. 
 
 (The Ceiling, painted by Tortnnaso, re¬ 
 presents several Stones of Perseus.) 
 The Family Vandyck. 
 
 [This Picture contains ten whole-length Portraits 
 The two principal, in a sitting posture, are Philip, Earl 
 of Pembroke, and his Lady ; on their right hp.ud stand 
 their five sons, Charles, Lord Herbert, Philip, Wil¬ 
 liam, James, and John ; on their left their daughter 
 Anne-Sophia and her husband Robert, Earl of Carnar¬ 
 von ; before them, Lady Mary, daughter of George 
 Duke of Buckingham, and wife of Charles, Lord Her¬ 
 bert ■, and above, among the clouds, are two sons and 
 a daughter, who died young.] 
 
 Vandyck, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 232. 
 
 233. 
 
 234. 
 
 235. 
 
 236. 
 
 237. 
 
 238. 
 
 239) 
 to > 
 246 ) 
 
 247. 
 
 248. 
 
 249. 
 
 250. 
 
 251. 
 
 252. 
 
 253. 
 
 254. 
 
 255. 
 
 256. 
 257- 
 
 258. 
 
 259. 
 
 260. 
 
 261 . 
 
 262 . 
 
 263. 
 
 264. 
 
 265. 
 
 266. 
 
 SALOON. 
 
 Allegory of Wisdom, as the Com -") 
 
 panion of Hercules./ 
 
 Daughter of Herodias with the Head"! 
 of St. John (After Guido Reni ).... ) 
 
 Death of Dido. 
 
 Rape of Helen... 
 
 Family of Charles I. 
 
 Venus attired by the Graces..... 
 
 Perseus and Andromeda . 
 
 The Judgment of Midas. 
 
 COLUMN ROOM. 
 
 (The Pictures in this Room are in 
 Water Colours.) 
 
 A Series of exterior and Interior 1 
 Views of Salisbury Cathedral .... / 
 
 View of the Lake of Thrasymene. 
 
 View of Tivoli. 
 
 The Tomb of Munatius Plancus, in'! 
 the ward between Rome and Tivoli J 
 
 A View at Civita Casteilana. 
 
 Subterraneous View of Mectenas’ Villa ”) 
 
 at Tivoli./ 
 
 Interior of the Colosseum at Rome .. 
 
 The Bridge of Narni. 
 
 Scene on the River which flows down'l 
 to Terni from the celebrated Water- > 
 
 fall...J 
 
 Another View on the same River .... 
 The Arch of Constantine at Rome .... 
 
 Fall of the Velino into the Nar . 
 
 An Avalanche, alter De Loutherbourg 
 Macbeth and the Witches on the ■) 
 
 Heath (In bistre). / 
 
 Bay of Naples and Mount Vesuvius') 
 (In bistre). / 
 
 IN THE ADJOINING APARTMENT. 
 
 (Above the Chimney.) Drawings In 
 bistre. 
 
 The Angel driving Heliodorus from') 
 
 the Temple (After Raphael) ./ 
 
 Christ led to the Cross . 
 
 St. Sebastian .. 
 
 Portrait of Raphael—from the original j 
 in the Altoviti Palace at Florence j 
 South-Side* 
 
 Angels reading Music. 
 
 Over the Door. 
 
 [After] P. Veronese. 
 Pompeo Battoni. 
 
 [After] Guercino. 
 [After] Guido Reni. 
 [After] Vandyck. 
 [After] Guido Reni. 
 
 Sebastian Bourdon. 
 
 Turner , 
 Du Cros . 
 
 F. Nicholson. 
 Zuccarelli . 
 Ttto Lusicri. 
 
 Seidelmann, 
 
 After] II Sodoma. 
 
 [After] Raphael . 
 
 A Study from the subject of Heliodo- »_ 
 
 rus (No. 261).../ I 
 
lxz.il 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title oi Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 GREEN DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 
 Jupiter and Juno . 
 
 Mary Magdalen anointing our Saviour’s feet 
 
 Holy Family . 
 
 Tribute Money (in two colours). 
 
 Charles V. doing penance. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 The Assumption (on copper) . 
 
 Joseph and our Saviour. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 The Last Supper. 
 
 Angels appearing to the Shepherds . 
 
 Virgin in Agony [After] Raphael (on copper) 
 
 The Three Marys at the Sepulchre . 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Joseph, Virgin, and.Child . 
 
 Cupid pulling Fortune by the hair. 
 
 Virgin . 
 
 Inside of a Chapel. 
 
 Adoration of the Wise Men. 
 
 Christ bearing the Cross . 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Virgin and Child... 
 
 Virgin and St. John. 
 
 Head of an Angel . 
 
 The Assumption. 
 
 Marriage in Cana . 
 
 Magdalen in the Desert [After] Correggio ■) 
 
 (on copper)...j 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Hiring the Labourers. 
 
 Virgin Adoring our Saviour. 
 
 Pygmalion first offering to Venus. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 Mary with the dead Christ (on copper). 
 
 Fortune Kissing Prudence . 
 
 Virgin and Child . 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 E. Le Sueur. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 G. Mutiano . 
 
 A. Sacchi. 
 
 Tempesta . 
 
 F. Baroccio. 
 
 Gerard. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 
 C. Dolce. 
 
 A. Sacchi. 
 
 C. Tempesta. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 E. Le Sueur. 
 
 Schedone. 
 
 And. de Ferrara. 
 
 P. Liberi. 
 
 Sasso Ferrato. 
 Steenwyck. 
 
 Diapenbeke. 
 
 A Sacchi. 
 
 H. Bless. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Domenichino. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 Domenichino. 
 
 A. Sacchi. 
 
 Raffaelino. 
 
 S. Bourdon. 
 
 D. Fetti. 
 
 F. Baroccio. 
 
 P. Liberi. 
 
 V. Castelli. 
 
 De Ferrara. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 P. Liberi. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 JAPAN CLOSET. 
 
 
 (Miniatures and small Pieces in Glass cases.) 
 
 
 Christ walking on the Sea. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and St. John. 
 
 Lot and his Two Daughters. 
 
 Bacchus and Ariadne . 
 
 Jupiter and Juno. 
 
 Galatea... 
 
 Venus, Satyr, and Cupid. 
 
 The Judgment of Midas . 
 
 A Spaniard . 
 
 Dejanira and the Centaur . 
 
 Mercury and Venus Teaching Cupid . 
 
 Approach of day. 
 
 G. Lanfranco. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 C. Mantegna. 
 
 B. Luti. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 
 F. Albano. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 B. Luti. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 

MR. ANGERSTEIN’S COLLECTION. 9 
 
 of an interesting story. The Lazarus is very 
 fine and bold. The flesh is well-baked, dingy, 
 and ready to crumble from the touch, when it 
 is liberated from its dread confinement to have 
 life and motion impressed on it again. He 
 seems impatient of restraint, gazes eagerly about 
 him, and looks out from his shrouded prison 
 on this new world with hurried amazement, as 
 if Death had scarcely yet resigned his power 
 over the senses. We would wish our artists to 
 look at the legs and feet of this figure, and see 
 how correctness of finishing and a greatness of 
 gusto in design are compatible with, and set off, 
 each other. The attendant female figures have a 
 peculiar grace and becoming dignity, both of 
 expression and attitude. They are in a style 
 something between Michael Angelo and Par- 
 megiano. They take a deep interest in the 
 scene, but it is with the air of composure pro¬ 
 per to the sex, who are accustomed by nature 
 and duty to works of charity and compassion. 
 The head of the old man, kneeling behind Christ, 
 is an admirable study of drawing, execution, 
 and character. The Christ himself is grave 
 and earnest, with a noble and impressive coun¬ 
 tenance ; but the figure wants that command¬ 
 ing air which ought to belong to one possessed 
 of preternatural power, and in the act of dis¬ 
 playing it. Too much praise cannot be given 
 to the back-ground—the green and white dra¬ 
 peries of some old people at a distance, which 
 
1<2 MR. angerstein’s collection. 
 
 have lain idle half his time. Zeal and diligence, 
 in this view, make life, short as it is, long.— 
 Neither did Raphael, it should seem, found his 
 historical pretensions on his incapacity to paint a 
 good portrait. On the contrary, the latter here 
 looks very much like the corner-stone of the his¬ 
 torical edifice. Nature did not put him out. He 
 was not too great a genius to copy what he saw. 
 He probably thought that a deference to nature 
 is the beginning of art, and that the highest 
 eminence is scaled by single steps ! 
 
 On the same stand as the portrait of Julius II. is 
 the much vaunted Correggio—the Christ in the 
 Garden. [76.]* We would not give a farthing 
 for it. The drapery of the Christ is highly finished 
 in a silver and azure tone—but high finishing is 
 not all we ask from Correggio. It is more worthy 
 of Carlo Dolce.—Lest we should forget it, we 
 may mention here that the admired portrait of 
 Gevartiusf [SS] was gone to be copied at 
 Somerset-house. The Academy have then, at 
 length, fallen into the method pursued at the 
 British Gallery, of recommending the students to 
 copy from the Old Masters. Well —better late 
 
 * The original picture by Correggio is in the possession 
 of the Duke of Wellington. That in the National Gal¬ 
 lery is only a copy. 
 
 T Or, more correctly, of Cornelius Vander Geest, an 
 intimate friend of Vandyke. The authentic engraving 
 from the real portrait of Gevartius differs materially from 
 the present picture. 
 
24 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 woven of etherial hues. A soft mist is on it, 
 a veil of subtle air. The tender green of the 
 valleys beyond, the gleaming lake, the purple 
 light of the hills, have an effect like the down on 
 an unripe nectarine. You may lay your finger 
 on the canvas ; but miles of dewy vapour and 
 sunshine are between you and the objects you 
 survey. It is almost needless to point out that 
 the cattle and figures in the foreground, like 
 dark, transparent spots, give an immense relief 
 to the perspective. This is, we think, the finest 
 Cuyp, perhaps, in the world. The landscape 
 opposite to it (in the same room) by the same 
 painter [83], has a richer colouring and a 
 stronger contrast of light and shade, but it has 
 not that tender bloom of a spring morning (so 
 delicate, yet so powerful in its effect) which the 
 other possesses. Two Horses, by the same [156], 
 is another admirable specimen of this excellent 
 painter. It is hard to say which is most true 
 to nature—the sleek, well-fed look of the bay 
 horse, or the bone and spirit of the dappled iron- 
 grey one, or the face of the man who is busy 
 fastening a girth. Nature is scarcely more faith¬ 
 ful to itself than this delightfully unmannered, 
 unaffected picture is to it. 
 
 In the same room there are several good Te¬ 
 nierses and a small Head of an old Man, by. 
 Rembrandt [189], which is as smoothly finished 
 as a miniature. No. 54, Interior of an Ale-house, 
 by Adrian Brouwer, almost gives one a sick head- 
 
66 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 grave wits of the clay, who made nonsense a 
 profound study, and turned trifles into phi¬ 
 losophy, and philosophy into a jest. The pale, 
 sallow complexion of this head is throughout 
 in wonderful keeping. The beard and face seem 
 nearly of the same colour. We often see this 
 clear uniform colour of the skin in Titian’s 
 portraits. But then the dark eyes, beard, and 
 eyebrows, give relief and distinctness. The fair 
 hair and complexions, that Vandyke usually 
 painted, with the almost total absence of shade 
 from his pictures, made the task more difficult; 
 and, indeed, the prominence and effect he pro¬ 
 duces in this respect, without any of the usual 
 means, are almost miraculous. 
 
 There are several of his portraits, equestrian 
 and others, of Charles I. in this Collection, some 
 of them good, none of them first-rate. Those 
 of Henrietta (his Queen) are always delightful. 
 The painter has made her the most lady-like of 
 Queens, and of women. 
 
 The family picture of the Children of Charles 
 I. (11) is certainly admirably painted and ma¬ 
 naged. The large mastiff-dog is inimitably fine 
 and true to nature, and seems as if he was 
 made to be pulled about by a parcel of royal in¬ 
 fants from generation to generation. In general, 
 it may be objected to Vandyke's dressed chil¬ 
 dren that they look like little old men and 
 women. His grown-up people had too much 
 stiffness and formality; and the same thing must 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 71 
 
 by Rubens.* The size and spirit of the horses 
 in the fore-ground, and the obvious animation of 
 the riders, are finely contrasted with the airy 
 perspective and mechanical grouping of the 
 armies at a distance : and so as to prevent that 
 confusion and want of positive relief which 
 usually pervade battle - pieces. In the same 
 room (opposite) is Kneller's Chinese converted to 
 Christianity f—a portrait of which he was justly 
 proud. It is a fine oil - picture, clear, tawny, 
 without trick or affectation, and full of cha¬ 
 racter. One of Kneller’s fine ladies or gentle¬ 
 men, with their wigs and toupees, would have 
 been mortally offended to have been so painted. 
 The Chinese retains the same oily sly look, after 
 his conversion as before, and seems just as in¬ 
 capable of a change of religion as a piece of 
 terra cotta. On each side of this performance 
 are two Guidos, the Perseus and Andromeda, 
 and Venus attired by the Graces.% We give the 
 preference to the former. The Andromeda is a 
 fine, noble figure, in a striking and even daring 
 position, with an impassioned and highly- 
 
 * There is no such picture at present in the public 
 apartments at Windsor. 
 
 t This picture used to hang at Kensington; but it is 
 now in the private apartments, either at Buckingham 
 Palace or Windsor. 
 
 J These pictures are not in the public rooms at Wind¬ 
 sor, but duplicates of them may be seen at the National 
 Gallery. Nos. 87 and 90. 
 
THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 93 
 
 with several fine landscapes of the two Poussins 
 (particularly one of a rocky eminence by Gaspar) 
 in the room before you come to the Rembrandts, 
 in which the mixture of grey rock and green 
 trees and shrubs is beautifully managed, with 
 striking truth and clearness. 
 
 Among detached and smaller pictures, we 
 would wish to point out to the attention of our 
 readers an exquisite head of a Child, by Andrea 
 del Sarto, and a fine Salvator in the inner room 
 of all: in the room leading to it, a pleasing, 
 glassy Cuyp, an airy, earthly - looking Teniers, 
 and a Mother and Sleeping Child, by Guido: in 
 the Saloon, a St. Catherine , one of Parmegiano’s 
 most graceful pictures 5 a St. Agnes, by Domeni- 
 chino, full of sweetness, thought, and feeling ; 
 and two pictures by Raphael, that have a look 
 as if painted on paper: a Repose in Egypt, and 
 St. Luke painting the Virgin, both admirable for 
 drawing and expression, and a rich, purple, 
 crayon tone of colouring. Wherever Raphael 
 is, there is grace and dignity, and an informing 
 soul. In the last - mentioned room, near the 
 entrance, is also a Conversion of St. Paul, by 
 Rubens, of infinite spirit, brilliancy, and delicacy 
 of execution. 
 
 Rut it is in the large room, to the right, that 
 the splendour and power of Rubens reign tri¬ 
 umphant and unrivalled, and yet he has here 
 to contend with highest works and names. The 
 four large pictures of ecclesiastical subjects, the 
 
THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 95 
 
 proudly eminent,” as if they trod the sky—when 
 man first rose from nothing to his native sub¬ 
 limity. We cannot describe these pictures in 
 their details ; they are one staggering blow after 
 another of the mighty hand that traced them. 
 All is cast in the same mould, all is filled with the 
 same spirit, all is clad in the same gaudy robe of 
 light. Rubens was at home here; his forte was 
 the processional, the showy, and the imposing; 
 he grew almost drank and wanton with the sense 
 of his power over such subjects ; and he, in fact, 
 left these pictures unfinished in some particulars, 
 that, for the place and object for which they 
 were intended, they might be perfect. They 
 were done (it is said) for tapestries from small 
 designs, and carried nearly to their present 
 state of finishing by his scholars. 
 
 There is a smaller picture in the same room, 
 Ixion embracing the false Juno, which points 
 out and defines their style of art and adaptation 
 for remote effect. There is a delicacy in this 
 last picture (which is, however, of the size of 
 life) that makes it look like a miniature in 
 comparison. The flesh of the women is like 
 lilies, or like milk strewed upon ivory. It is soft 
 and pearly; but, in the larger pictures, it is 
 heightened beyond nature, the veil of air between 
 the spectator and the figures, when placed in the 
 proper position, being supposed to give the last 
 finishing. Near the Ixion is an historical female 
 figure, by Guido, which will not bear any com- 
 
PICTURES AT 'WILTON. 
 
 105 
 
 beginning of things. The Evening, the com¬ 
 panion to it, is even finer. It has all the gorgeous 
 pomp that attends the meeting of Night and 
 Day, and a flood of glory still prevails over the 
 coming shadows. In the cool of the evening, 
 some cattle are feeding on the brink of a glassy 
 stream, that reflects a mouldering ruin on one 
 side of the picture ; and so precise is the touch, 
 so true, so firm is the pencilling, so classical the 
 outline, that they give one the idea of sculptured 
 cattle, biting the short, green turf, and seem an 
 enchanted herd! They appear stamped on the 
 canvas to remain there for ever, or as if nothing 
 could root them from the spot. Truth with 
 beauty suggests the feeling of immortality. No 
 Dutch picture ever suggested this feeling. The 
 objects are real, it is true ; but not being beau¬ 
 tiful or impressive, the mind feels no wish to 
 mould them into a permanent reality, to bind 
 them fondly on the heart, or lock them in the 
 imagination as in a sacred recess, safe from the 
 envious canker of time. No one ever felt a longing, 
 a sickness of the heart, to see a Dutch landscape 
 twice ; but those of Claude, after an absence of 
 years, have this effect, and produce a kind of 
 calenture. The reason of the difference is that, 
 in mere literal copies from nature, where the 
 objects are not interesting in themselves, the 
 only attraction is to see the felicity of the execu¬ 
 tion ; and, having once witnessed this, we are 
 satisfied. But there is nothing to stir the fancy. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 169 
 
 jects for his pictures, and his manner of telling 
 the story. His landscapes, which he probably 
 took from nature, are superior as paintings to 
 his historical pieces. The faces of Poussin want 
 natural expression, as his figures want grace; 
 but the back-grounds of his historical composi¬ 
 tions can scarcely be surpassed. In his Plague 
 of Athens the very buildings seem stiff with horror. 
 His giants, seated on the top of their fabled 
 mountains, and playing on their panpipes, are as 
 familiar and natural as if they were the ordinary 
 inhabitants of the scene. The finest of his land¬ 
 scapes is his picture of the Deluge. The sun is 
 just seen, wan and drooping in his course. The 
 sky is bowed down with a weight of waters, and 
 heaven and earth seem mingling together. 
 
 Titian is at the head of the Venetian school; 
 he is the first of all colourists. In delicacy and 
 purity Correggio is equal to him, but his colour¬ 
 ing has not the same warmth and gusto in it. 
 Titian’s flesh-colour partakes of the glowing na¬ 
 ture of the climate, and of the luxuriousness of 
 the manners of his country. He represents ob¬ 
 jects not through a merely lucid medium, but as 
 if tinged with a golden light. Yet it is wonder¬ 
 ful in how low a tone of local colouring his 
 pictures are painted,—how rigidly his means are 
 husbanded. His most gorgeous effects are pro¬ 
 duced, not less by keeping down than by height¬ 
 ening his colours ■, the fineness of his gradations 
 adds to their variety and force and, with him. 
 
188 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 painting. However stupendous the scenery of 
 that part of the country is, and however power¬ 
 ful and lasting the impression which it must 
 always make on the imagination, yet the effect 
 is not produced merely through the medium of 
 the eye, but arises chiefly from collateral and 
 associated feelings. There is the knowledge of 
 the physical magnitude of the objects in the 
 midst of which we are placed,—the slow, im- 
 progressive motion which we make in traversing 
 them;—there is the abrupt precipice, the tor¬ 
 rent’s roar, the boundless expanse of the pros¬ 
 pect from the highest mountains,—the difficulty 
 of their ascent, their loneliness and silence ; in 
 short, there is a constant sense and superstitious 
 awe of the collective power of matter, on which, 
 from the beginning of time, the hand of man has 
 made no impression, and which, by the lofty 
 reflections they excite in us, give a sort of 
 intellectual sublimity even to our sense of 
 physical weakness. But there is little in all these 
 circumstances that can be translated into the 
 picturesque, which makes its appeal immediately 
 to the eye. In a picture, a mountain shrinks to 
 a mole-hill, and the lake that expands its broad 
 bosom to the sky seems hardly big enough to 
 launch a fleet of cockle-shells. 
 
 Wilson’s historical landscapes, the two Niobes, 
 Celadon and Amelia, Meleager and Atalanta, do 
 not, in our opinion, deserve the name; that is, 
 they do not excite feelings corresponding with 
 
193 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 painting, and in returning (as far as he did return) 
 to the truth and force of individual nature, that 
 the secret both of his fame and fortune lay. The 
 pedantic servile race of artists whom Reynolds 
 superseded had carried the abstract principle of 
 improving on nature to such a degree of refine¬ 
 ment that they left it out altogether, and con¬ 
 founded all the varieties and irregularities of 
 form, feature, character, expression, or attitude, 
 in the same artificial mould of fancied grace 
 and fashionable insipidity. The portraits of 
 Kneller, for example, seem all to have been 
 turned in a machine ; the eye-brows are arched 
 as if by a compass, the mouth curled, and the 
 chin dimpled; the head turned on one side, and 
 the hands placed in the same affected position. 
 The portraits of this mannerist, therefore, are as 
 like one another as the dresses which were then 
 in fashion, and have the same “ dignity and 
 value ” as the full bottomed wigs which graced 
 their originals. The superiority of Reynolds 
 consisted in his being varied and natural, instead 
 of being artificial and uniform. The spirit, 
 grace, or dignity which he added to his portraits, 
 he borrowed from nature, and not from the 
 ambiguous quackery of rules. His feeling of 
 truth and nature was too strong to permit him 
 to adopt the unmeaning style of Kneller and 
 Hudson ; but his logical acuteness was not such 
 as to enable him to detect the verbal fallacies 
 and speculative absurdities which he had learned 
 
200 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 admirable success; he was an industrious com¬ 
 piler or skilful translator, not an original inventor, 
 in art. The art would remain, in all its essential 
 elements, just where it is if Sir Joshua had never 
 lived. He has supplied the industry of future 
 plagiarists with no new materials. But it has 
 been well observed that the value of every work 
 of art, as well as the genius of the artist, depends 
 not more on the degree of excellence than on 
 the degree of originality displayed in it. Sir 
 Joshua, however, was perhaps the most original 
 imitator that ever appeared in the world; and 
 the reason of this, in a great measure, was that 
 he was compelled to combine what he saw in art 
 with what he saw in nature, which was constantly 
 before him. The portrait-painter is, in this re¬ 
 spect, much less liable than the historical painter 
 to deviate into the extremes of manner and affec¬ 
 tation ; for he cannot discard nature altogether 
 under the excuse that she only puts him out. 
 He must meet her face to face; and if he is 
 not incorrigible, he will see something there that 
 cannot fail to be of service to him. Another 
 circumstance which must have been favourable 
 to Sir Joshua was that, though not the originator 
 in point of time, he was the first Englishman 
 who transplanted the higher excellences of his 
 profession into his own country, and had the 
 merit, if not of an inventor, of a reformer of the 
 art. His mode of painting had the graces of 
 novelty in the age and country in which he 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 221 
 
 produced in obscurity and poverty,—and recol¬ 
 lects the pomp and pride of patronage under 
 which these works are at present recommended 
 to public notice, the obvious inference which 
 strikes him is how little the production of such 
 works depends on “ the most encouraging cir¬ 
 cumstances.” The visits of the Gods of old 
 did not always add to the felicity of those whose 
 guests they were; nor do we know that the coun¬ 
 tenance and favours of the great will lift the 
 arts to that height of excellence, or will confer 
 all those advantages which are expected from 
 the proferred boon. The arts are of humble 
 growth and station ; they are the product of 
 labour and self-denial; they have their seat in 
 the heart of man and in his imagination; it is 
 there they labour, have their triumphs there, 
 and, unseen and unthought of, perform their 
 ceaseless task.—Indeed patronage, and works of 
 art deserving patronage, rarely exist together; 
 for it is only when the arts have attracted 
 public esteem, and reflect credit on the patron, 
 that they receive this flattering support, and 
 then it generally proves fatal to them. We 
 do not see how the man of genius should be 
 improved by being transplanted from his closet 
 to the ante-chambers of the great, or to a 
 fashionable rout. He has no business there—- 
 but to bow, to flatter, to smile, to submit to 
 the caprice of taste, to adjust his dress, to think 
 of nothing but his own person and his own 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 229 
 
 fied with the knowledge they have already 
 acquired. 
 
 With regard to the supposed pecuniary 
 advantages arising from the public patronage 
 of the arts, the plan unfortunately defeats itself; 
 for it multiplies its objects faster than it can 
 satisfy their claims, and raises up a swarm of 
 competitors for the prize of genius from the 
 dregs of idleness and dullness. The real patron 
 is anxious to reward merit, not to encourage 
 gratuitous pretenders to it ; to see that the 
 man of genius takes no detriment, that another 
 Wilson is not left to perish for want; not to 
 propagate the breed, for that he knows to be 
 impossible. But there are some persons who 
 think it as essential to the interests of art to 
 keep up “ an aerie of children,”—the young 
 fry of embryo candidates for fame,—as others 
 think it essential to the welfare of the kingdom 
 to preserve the spawn of the herring fisheries. 
 In general, public, that is, indiscriminate patron¬ 
 age, is, and can be nothing better than a species 
 of intellectual seduction, by administering pro¬ 
 vocatives to vanity and avarice—it is leading 
 astray the youth of this nation by fallacious 
 hopes, which can scarcely ever be realized; it 
 is beating up for raw dependents, sending out 
 into the highways for the halt, the lame, and 
 the blind, and making a scramble among a set 
 of idle boys for prizes of the first, second, and 
 third class, like those we make among children, 
 
236 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 seeks relief from the glitter of the frames in the 
 glare of the pictures where vermilion cheeks 
 make vermilion lips look pale: where the mer¬ 
 ciless splendour of the painter’s pallet puts 
 nature out of countenance ; and where the 
 unmeaning grimace of fashion and folly is 
 almost the only variety in the wide dazzling 
 waste of colour. Indeed, the great error of 
 British art has hitherto been a desire to produce 
 a popular effect by the cheapest and most 
 obvious means, at the expense of everything 
 else;—to lose all the delicacy and variety of 
 nature in one undistinguished bloom of florid 
 health ; and all precision, truth, and refinement 
 of character, in the same harmless mould of 
 smiling, self-complacent insipidity. 
 
 “ Pleased with itself, that all the world can please.” 
 
 It is probable that in all that stream of idle¬ 
 ness and curiosity which flows in, hour after 
 hour, and day after day, to the richly hung apart¬ 
 ments of Somerset House, there are not fifty 
 persons to be found who can really distinguish 
 “a Guido from a daub,” or who would recog¬ 
 nise a work of the most refined genius from 
 the most common and every-day performance. 
 Come, then, ye banks of Wapping, and classic 
 haunts of Ratcliffe Highway, and join thy fields, 
 blithe Tothill—let the post-chaises, gay with 
 oaken boughs, be put in requisition for school¬ 
 boys from Eton and Harrow, and school-girls 
 
246 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 toes or five allowed to each of the feet. If there 
 had been a young Silenus among the Elgin 
 Marbles, we don’t know that in some particu¬ 
 lars it would have surpassed Sir Joshua’s mas¬ 
 terly sketch, but we are sure that the extremi¬ 
 ties, the nails, &c., would have been studies of 
 natural history. The life, the spirit, the cha¬ 
 racter of the grotesque and imaginary little 
 being would not have made an abortion of any 
 part of his natural growth or form. 
 
 Farther, in a cast from nature there would 
 be, as a matter of course, the same play and 
 flexibility of limb and muscle, or, as Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence expresses it, the same “ alternate 
 action and repose,” that we find so admirably 
 displayed in the Elgin Marbles. It seems here 
 as if stone could move : where one muscle is 
 strained, another is relaxed, where one part 
 is raised, another sinks in, just as in the ocean, 
 where the waves are lifted up in one place, they 
 sink proportionally low in the next: and all this 
 modulation and affection of the different parts of 
 the form by others arises from an attentive and 
 coinstantaneous observation of the parts of a 
 flexible body, where the muscles and bones act 
 upon, and communicate with, one another, like 
 the ropes and pulleys in a machine, and where the 
 action or position given to a particular limb or 
 membrane naturally extends to the whole body. 
 This harmony, this combination of motion, this 
 unity of spirit diffused through the wondrous 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 275 
 
 of any portraits. They are doing nothing, and 
 yet all other business seems insipid in comparison 
 of their thoughts. They are silent, retired, and 
 do not court observation: yet you cannot keep 
 your eyes from them. Some one said that you 
 would be as cautious of your behaviour in a 
 room where a picture of Titian’s was hung as 
 if there was somebody by—so entirely do they 
 look you through. They are the least tiresome 
 furniture-company in the world ! 
 
 5. Grandeur consists in connecting a number of 
 parts into a whole, and not leaving out the parts. 
 
 Sir Joshua lays it down that the great style in 
 art consists in the omission of the details. A 
 greater error never man committed. The great 
 style consists in preserving the masses and ge¬ 
 neral proportions ; not in omitting the details. 
 Thus, suppose, for illustration’s sake, the general 
 form of an eye-brow to be commanding and 
 grand. It is of a certain size, and arched in a 
 particular curve. Now surely this general form 
 or outline will be equally preserved, whether the 
 painter daubs it in, in a bold, rough way, as 
 Reynolds or perhaps Rembrandt would, or pro¬ 
 duces the effect by a number of hair-lines ar¬ 
 ranged in the same form as Titian sometimes 
 did ; and in his best pictures. It will not be de¬ 
 nied (for it cannot) that the characteristic form 
 of the eye-brow would be. the same, or that the 
 effect of the picture at a small distance would be 
 nearly the same in either case; only in the latter 
 
 t 2 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 277 
 
 the general form, like straw or weeds upon the 
 tide of ocean. Once more : in Titian’s portraits 
 we perceive a certain character stamped upon 
 the different features. In the Hippolito de Medici 
 the eye-brows are angular, the nose is peaked, 
 the mouth has sharp corners, the face is (so to 
 Speak) a pointed oval. The drawing in each of 
 these is as careful and distinct as can be. But 
 the unity of intention in nature, and in the artist, 
 does not the less tend to produce a general gran¬ 
 deur and impressiveness of effect j which at first 
 sight it is not easy to account for. To combine 
 a number of particulars to one end is not to 
 omit them altogether ; and is the best way of 
 producing the grand style, because it does this 
 without either affectation or slovenliness. 
 
 6 . The sixth rule we proposed to lay down 
 was that, as grandeur is the principle of connexion 
 between different parts, beauty is the principle of 
 affinity between different forms, or their gradual 
 conversion into each other. The one harmonizes, 
 the other aggrandizes, our impressions of things. 
 
 There is a harmony of colours and a harmony 
 of sounds, unquestionably: why then there should 
 be all this squeamishness about admitting an 
 original harmony of forms as the principle of 
 beauty and source of pleasure there we cannot 
 understand. It is true that there is in organized 
 bodies a certain standard of form to which they 
 approximate more or less, and from which they 
 cannot very widely deviate without shocking the 
 
286 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 from Raphael, or Correggio, as if to make the 
 thing remote and finical—but -heaps of the 
 most elaborate pieces of the worst of the Dutch 
 masters, Breughel’s Sea-horses with coats of 
 mother-of-pearl, and Rothenhamer’s Elements 
 turned into a Flower-piece. The Catalogue, in 
 short, is guiltless of the names of any of those 
 works of art 
 
 Which like a trumpet make the spirits dance; 
 
 and is sacred to those which rank no higher 
 than veneering, and where the painter is on a 
 precise par with the carver and gilder. Such 
 is not our taste in art; and we confess we 
 should have been a little disappointed in view¬ 
 ing Fonthill, had not our expectations been 
 disabused beforehand. Oh ! for a glimpse of the 
 Escurial! where the piles of Titians lie; where 
 nymphs, fairer than lilies, repose in green, airy 
 pastoral landscapes, and Cupids, with curled 
 locks, pluck the wanton vine ; at whose beauty, 
 whose splendour, whose truth and freshness, 
 Mengs could not contain his astonishment, nor 
 Cumberland his raptures $ 
 
 While groves of Eden, vanish’d now so long, 
 
 Live in description, and look green in song ; 
 
 the very thought of which, in that monastic 
 seclusion and low dell, surrounded by craggy 
 precipices, gives the mind a calenture, a longing 
 desire to plunge through wastes and wilds, to 
 
flaxman’s lectures 
 
 306 
 
 thing. Neither are we much better satisfied with 
 the arguments of the learned professor to show 
 that the series of statuary in Wells Cathedral is 
 of native English workmanship. The difference 
 of style from the tombs of Edward the Confessor, 
 and of Henry ill., by Italians, can be of little 
 weight at a period when the principles of art 
 were so unsettled, and each person did the best 
 be could, according to his own taste and know¬ 
 ledge ; and as to the second branch of the evi¬ 
 dence, viz., that * the family name of the Bishop 
 is English, Jocelyn Troteman,’ it sounds too 
 much like a parody on the story of him who 
 wanted to prove his descent from the admirable 
 Crichton, by his having a family cup in his 
 possession, with the initials A. C.! 
 
 We dwell the longer and more willingly on 
 the details and recollections of the early works 
 of which the author speaks so feelingly, as first 
 informed with life and sentiment, because all 
 relating to that remote period of architecture 
 and sculpture exercises a peculiar charm and 
 fascination over our minds. It is not art in its 
 •‘high and palmy state,” with its boasted refine¬ 
 ments about it, that we look at with envy and 
 wonder, so much as in its first rude attempts and 
 conscious yearnings after excellence. They were, 
 indeed, the favoured of the earth, into whom 
 genius first breathed the breath of life; who, 
 born in a night of ignorance, first beheld the 
 sacred dawn of light—those Deucalions of art. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 xix 
 
 No. Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 290 . 
 
 291 . 
 
 292 . 
 
 293 . 
 
 294 . 
 
 295 ) 
 
 296/ 
 
 297 . 
 
 298 . 
 
 299 . 
 
 300 . 
 
 301 . 
 
 302 . 
 
 303 . 
 
 304 . 
 
 305 . 
 
 306 . 
 
 307 . 
 
 308 . 
 
 309 - 
 
 310 . 
 
 311 . 
 
 312 . 
 
 313 . 
 
 314 . 
 
 315 . 
 
 316 . 
 
 317 . 
 
 318 . 
 
 319 . 
 
 320 . 
 
 321 . 
 
 322 . 
 
 323 . 
 
 324 . 
 
 325 . 
 
 326 . 
 
 327 . 
 
 328 . 
 329 - 
 
 330 . 
 
 331 . 
 
 332 . 
 
 333 . 
 
 334 . 
 
 335 . 
 
 336 . 
 
 337 . 
 
 338 . 
 
 Judge Crooke ...| Anonymous, 
 
 Sir Peter Carew .-.I - 
 
 The Emperor Rodolph . 
 
 Charles I. and Queen dining in Public 
 The King and Queen of Bohemia) 
 
 dining in Public . / 
 
 Two small octagon Portraits of) 
 Flemish Gentlemen . / 
 
 Van Bassen, 
 
 Gonzales. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 
 
 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Queen Mary I., when a Child. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady, supposed to be) 
 Queen JVlary I. f 
 
 Sir A. More. 
 
 A. Burer. 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 My tens. 
 
 Holbein. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 L. de Heere. 
 
 Van Somer. 
 Anonymous. 
 Holbein. 
 
 Sir A. More. 
 Holbein. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth in a fancy dress .... 
 
 
 
 Henry, Prince of Wales, son of James ) 
 I., and Lord Harrington .j 
 
 
 
 
 Will Somers, Jester to Henry VIII.. .. 
 
 
 
 A Portrait of a Lady of the Court of) 
 
 Henry VIII ... J 
 
 The Father and Mother of Holbein .. 
 Portrait of a Lady of the Court of) 
 Henry VIII . j 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 L. Corneliz. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 L. Corneliz. 
 
 John de Bellini. 
 
 L. Corneliz . 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Portrait of a Lad** of the Court of) 
 Henry VIII. .. / 
 
 A Portrait of a Lady of the Court of) 
 Henry VIII .. / 
 
 
 
 JaneU 
 
 L. de Heere. 
 
 Janet . 
 
 Van Somer. 
 Janet. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Lord Darnley and his Brother Charles X 
 
 Stewart .. J 
 
 Francis II. of France, when a Boy .... 
 
 
 Francis I. and Duchess of Valentino .. 
 
 
 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 L. Corneliz. 
 
 Jan de Mabuse. 
 TV. Kay. 
 Steenwick. 
 Holbein. 
 
 i Portrait of a Lady of the Court of) 
 
 1 Henry VIII. .... J 
 
 | Lazarus Spinola, Uncle to Spinola,) 
 i Governor in the Low Countries .. / 
 j Erasmus, Holbein; the background .. 
 
 I Reskemeer .. 
 
 b 2 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 XXXVll 
 
 No. 
 
 \.y. 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123 . 
 
 124 . 
 
 125 . 
 
 126. 
 
 127 - 
 
 128 . 
 
 129. 
 
 130 . 
 
 131 . 
 
 132 . 
 
 133 . 
 
 134 . 
 
 135 . 
 
 136 . 
 
 137 . 
 
 138 . 
 
 139 . 
 
 140 . 
 
 141 . 
 
 142 . 
 
 143 . 
 
 144 . 
 
 145 . 
 
 146 . 
 
 147 . 
 
 148 . 
 
 149 . 
 
 150 . 
 
 151 . 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Head of Luther (?). 
 
 A Holy Family. “II Silenzio.” .... 
 
 A Man’s Portrait. 
 
 Interior of a Grange . 
 
 View near Rome... 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 St. Agnes . 
 
 Interior of a Church, with the Pro- ) 
 
 cession of the Host . j 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Interior of a Church (Companion to*i 
 
 No. 127)..... J 
 
 A Landscape, with Cattle and Figures 
 
 A View near Rome. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 The great Duke of Marl borough. 
 
 KING’S DRAWING ROOM, CALLED THE 
 RUBENS ROOM. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 St. Martin dividing his Cloak with'i 
 
 Poor Men./ 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Philip II. of Spain on Horseback;'] 
 the Battle of St. Quintin in the > 
 
 distance.J 
 
 Elizabeth Brandt, Rubens’s First \ 
 
 Wife .i 
 
 Landscape.—Winter. 
 
 The Archduke Albert on Horseback ; *) 
 
 Antwerp in the distance . J 
 
 Landscape. — Summer (Companion *1 
 
 to No. 139.J 
 
 The Family of Sir Balthazar Gerbier.. 
 
 A Portrait, uncertain. 
 
 Don Ferdinand, the Cardinal Infant,‘'j 
 and the Archduke Ferdinand of 1 
 Austria, at the Battle of Nord- 1 
 lingen. J 
 
 THE VESTIBULE. 
 
 Edward III. after the Battle of Crecy 
 Edward the Black Prince, after the i 
 
 Battle of Poictiers .j 
 
 Philippa, Wife of Edward III., at the ) 
 
 Battle of Neville’s Cross .) 
 
 Queen Philippa, suing for the pardon ^ 
 of the Six Burghers of Calais .... / 
 Edward III. entertaining his prison-*) 
 ers after the Surrender of Calais.. J 
 
 THE THRONE ROOM. 
 
 The first Installation of the Knights 1 
 
 of the Garter, 1349.j 
 
 George IV. in the Robes of the Garter 
 
 PaitifC'l by 
 
 G. Poussin . 
 Holbein (?) 
 
 A. Caracci. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Domenicliino. 
 
 Peter Neefs. 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 Peter Neefs. 
 
 Berghem. 
 Claude. 
 Anonymous. 
 Kneller. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Vandyck . 
 Rubens. 
 
 West. 
 
I 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 68 . 
 
 69 . 
 
 70. 
 
 7M 
 
 7 2/ 
 
 73. 
 
 74. 
 
 75 ? 
 
 to c 
 
 78) 
 
 79. 
 
 80. 
 81. 
 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 86 * 
 
 87 ) 
 
 88 . 
 
 90. 
 
 91. 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96. 
 
 97. 
 
 96. 
 
 99- 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 I 
 
 102 J 
 
 Charity (After Schedoni) . 
 
 The Sybilla Persica (After Guercino ).. 
 St. Cecilia (a drawing after Domeni- ”1 
 
 chino ./ 
 
 Cupids (drawing after Schedoni) . 
 
 Penelope and Euriclea . 
 
 A Grecian Lady at a Tambour Table.. 
 
 Family Subjects . 
 
 W. Hoare. 
 Rouby. 
 
 A. Kauffman. 
 
 SOUTH APARTMENT. 
 
 Head of Democritus (After Salvatore 
 
 Rosa) In bistre .J 
 
 A Boy playing with Tablets (After i 
 
 L. da Vinci ) In bistre. j 
 
 Rembrandt's Mother weighing money "i 
 
 (a drawing) . J 
 
 Apollo (After P. Veronese) In bistre .. 
 A Boy playing on a Guitar (After 1 
 
 Vanni) In bistre.J 
 
 A Mother feeding her Child (After ■» 
 
 Buroccio) In bistre.j 
 
 The School of Cupid (After Correggio) 'i 
 In bistre.j 
 
 Cupids (After A. Caracci) In bistre.. 
 
 Poetry crowned with Laurel (After \ 
 
 Carlo Dolce) In bistre.J 
 
 Two laughing Boys (After Murillo ?) "1 
 
 In bistre./ 
 
 St. Marie (After Bartolomeo) In bistre 
 The Head of Medusa (After L. da\ 
 
 Vinci) In bistre .J 
 
 A Madonna and Child (After Cignani) \ 
 
 In bistre.J 
 
 A Head (After Raphael) In bistre .... 
 A School-Girl (After Schedoni) In bistre 
 A Head of a Female pressing to her*i 
 breast a Child (After Correggio .. / 
 A Magdalen (After Guercino) In "l 
 bistre./ 
 
 A SMALL ADJOINING APARTMENT. 
 
 (Besides a Collection of drawings in 
 Water Colours, contains) 
 
 The Leaning Tower at Pisa. 
 
 The River Thames on Lord Mayor’s 
 Day. j 
 
 ANTE-ROOM TO LIBRARY. 
 
 St. Michael ) (After Guido Re?ii) In \ 
 
 St. Sebastian j bistre./ 
 
 Children from the School of Athens'! 
 (After Raphael) In bistre./ 
 
 La Grene. 
 
 Rouby. 
 
 Seidelmun. 
 
 Rouby. 
 
 Seidel man. 
 Rouby. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Cunaletti. 
 
 Rouby. 
 
STOORHEAD, 
 
 It 
 
 Ns.. Title of Picture. Painted by 
 
 266. The Three Fates.. 
 
 East-Side. 
 
 267« A Subject from the Ineendi® di Borgs 
 268. Another from the Belwdorm ........ 
 
 269 \ Subjects from the Dispute of the Sa- \ 
 
 270 / eramenfc ../ 
 
 [After] Michael Angelo 
 
 [After] Raphael. 
 
 Guercin®. 
 
 A. Gamed. 
 
 272. Night... 
 
 
 274. The Angel delivering St. Peter from \ 
 Prison.... 1 
 
 Raphael* 
 
 
 
 
 Titian . 
 
 Parmegiano . 
 
 South-Side. 
 
 
 There are also in the same apartment several His¬ 
 torical designs in Bs9t?e, by Rysbaeh, and some 
 Landscapes by Pfctlip Hackest and others. 
 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 23 
 
 dim,” though not a “ religious light ” upon them. 
 At our entrance, we were first struck by our 
 old friends the Cuyps; and just beyond, caught 
 a glimpse of that fine female head by Carlo Ma- 
 ratti,* giving us a welcome with cordial glances. 
 May we not exclaim— 
 
 What a delicious breath painting sends forth ! 
 
 The violet-bed’s not sweeter. 
 
 A fine gallery of pictures is a sort of illus¬ 
 tration of Berkeley’s Theory of Matter and Spirit. 
 It is like a palace of thought—another universe, 
 built of air, of shadows, of colours. Every 
 thing seems “ palpable to feeling as to sight.” 
 Substances turn to shadows by the painter’s arch- 
 chemic touch ; shadows harden into substances. 
 “ The eye is made the fool of the other senses, 
 or else worth all the rest.” The material is in 
 some sense embodied in the immaterial, or, at 
 least, we see all things in a sort of intellectual 
 mirror. The world of art is an enchanting de¬ 
 ception. We discover distance in a glazed sur¬ 
 face ; a province is contained in a foot of can¬ 
 vass ; a thin evanescent tint gives the form and 
 pressure of rocks and trees; an inert shape has 
 life and motion in it. Time stands still, and 
 the dead re-appear, by means of this “ so potent 
 art! ” 
 
 Look at the Cuyp next the door [9]. It is 
 
 * The only picture by Carlo Maratti, in the Dulwich 
 Gallery, is a Holy Family, No. 342. 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 31 
 
 the Luxembourg! Quaint association, happily 
 effected by the pencil of Watteau ! In the Bal 
 Champdtre we see Louis XIV. himself dancing, 
 looking so like an old beau, his face flushed 
 and puckered up with gay anxiety; but then 
 the satin of his slashed doublet is made of the 
 softest leaves of the water-lily; Zephyr plays 
 wanton with the curls of his wig! We have 
 nobody who could produce a companion to this 
 picture now: nor do we very devoutly wish 
 it. The Louis the Fourteenths are extinct, and 
 we suspect their revival would hardly be 
 compensated even by the re-appearance of a 
 Watteau. 
 
 No. 254, the Death of Cardinal Beaufort, by 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, is a very indifferent and 
 rather unpleasant sketch of a very fine picture. 
 One of the most delightful things in this de¬ 
 lightful collection is the Portrait of the Prince 
 of the Asturias, [194] by Velasquez. The easy 
 lightness of the childish Prince contrasts 
 delightfully with the unwieldy figure of the 
 horse, which has evidently been brought all 
 the way from the Low Countries for the amuse¬ 
 ment of his rider. Velasquez was (with only 
 two exceptions, Titian and Vandyke) as fine a 
 portrait-painter as ever lived ! 
 
 In the centre room also is the Meeting of 
 Jacob and Rachel, by Murillo [294], a sweet 
 picture with a fresh green landscape, and the 
 heart of love in the midst of it. 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 33 
 
 what flourishes ” of grace or ornament we 
 please. Holbein’s heads are to the finest por¬ 
 traits what state-papers are to history. 
 
 The first picture in the Fourth Room is 
 The Prophet Samuel, by Sir Joshua (286). 
 It is not the Prophet Samuel, but a very 
 charming picture of a little child saying its 
 prayers. The second is The Education of Bac¬ 
 chus, by Nicholas Poussin (115).* This picture 
 makes one thirsty to look at it—the colouring 
 even is dry and adust. It is true history in the 
 technical phrase, that is to say, true poetry in 
 the vulgate. The figure of the infant Bacchus 
 seems as if he would drink up a vintage—he 
 drinks with his mouth, his hands, his belly, 
 and his whole body. Gargantua was nothing 
 to him. In the Nursing of Jupiter (300), in 
 like manner, we are thrown back into the in¬ 
 fancy of mythologic lore. The little Jupiter, 
 suckled by a she-goat, is beautifully conceived 
 and expressed; and the dignity and ascendency 
 given to these animals in the picture is wonder¬ 
 fully happy. They have a very imposing air 
 of gravity indeed, and seem to be by prescrip¬ 
 tion “ grand caterers and wet - nurses of the 
 state” of Heaven! Apollo giving a Poet a Cup 
 of Water to drink, by N. Poussin (295), is 
 elegant and classical : and The Flight into 
 Egypt, by N. Poussin (310), instantly takes 
 
 * The picture in the Dulwich Gallery is only a copy 
 from the fine original in the National Gallery, No. 39. 
 
 D 
 
THE 
 
 PICTURES AT WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 - ♦- 
 
 The palaces of Windsor and Hampton-Court 
 contain pictures worthy of the feelings we attach 
 to the names of those places. The first boasts 
 a number of individual pictures of great excel¬ 
 lence and interest, and the last the Cartoons. 
 
 Windsor Castle is remarkable in many re¬ 
 spects. Its tall, grey, square towers, seated on 
 a striking eminence, overlook for many miles 
 the subjacent country, and, eyed in the distance, 
 lead the mind of the solitary traveller to roman¬ 
 tic musing ■, or, approached nearer, give the heart 
 a quicker and stronger pulsation. Windsor, be¬ 
 sides its picturesque, commanding situation, and 
 its being the only palace in the kingdom fit 
 for the receptacle of “ a line of kings,” is the 
 scene of many classical associations. Who can 
 pass through Datchet, and the neighbouring 
 greensward paths, and not think of Falstaff, of 
 Anne Page, and the oak of Herne the hunter r 
 Or, if he does not, still he is affected by them as 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 67 
 
 quite overlay the playfulness of infancy. Yet 
 what a difference between these young princes 
 of the House of Stuart, and two of the princes of 
 the reigning family with their mother, by Ramsay, 
 which are evident likenesses to this hour! 
 
 We have lost our reckoning as to the order of 
 the pictures and rooms in which they are placed, 
 and must proceed promiscuously through the 
 remainder of our catalogue.* 
 
 One of the most noted pictures at Windsor is 
 that of the Misers ,f by Quintin Matsys [67]. 
 Its name is greater than its merits, like many 
 other pictures which have a lucky or intelligible 
 subject, boldly executed. The conception is 
 good, the colouring bad ; the drawing firm, and 
 the expression coarse and obvious. We are 
 sorry to speak at all disparagingly of Quintin 
 Matsys; for the story goes that he was origi¬ 
 nally bred a blacksmith, and turned painter to 
 gain his master’s daughter, who would give her 
 hand to no one but on that condition. Happy 
 he who thus gained the object of his love, 
 though posterity may differ about his merits as 
 an artist! Yet it is certain that any romantic 
 incident of this kind, connected with a well- 
 known work, inclines us to regard it with a 
 favourable instead of a critical eye, by enhancing 
 
 * In the present edition, the references are supplied in 
 their brackets. 
 
 f Or more properly the Money-changers. A miser when 
 he counts his gold loves entire solitude. 
 
 F 2 
 
80 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 the same sweetness triumphs there as ever, the 
 most perfect self - command and dignity of de¬ 
 meanour. We could hazard a conjecture that 
 this is what forms the great distinction between 
 the natural style of Raphael and the natural style 
 of Hogarth. Both are equally intense; but the 
 one is intense littleness, meanness, vulgarity; 
 the other is intense grandeur, refinement, and 
 sublimity. In the one we see common, or some¬ 
 times uncommon and painful, circumstances 
 acting with all their force on narrow minds and 
 deformed bodies, and bringing out distorted 
 and violent efforts at expression ; in the other we 
 see noble forms and lofty characters contending 
 with adverse, or co-operating with powerful, im¬ 
 pressions from without, and imparting their own 
 unaltered grace, and habitual composure to them. 
 In Hogarth, generally, the face is excited and 
 torn in pieces by some paltry interest of its own; 
 in Raphael, on the contrary, it is expanded and 
 ennobled by the contemplation of some event or 
 object highly interesting in itself: that is to say, 
 the passion in the one is intellectual and abstract¬ 
 ed ; the passion in the other is petty, selfish, and 
 confined. We have not thought it beneath the 
 dignity of the subject to make this comparison 
 between two of the most extraordinary and high¬ 
 ly gifted persons that the world ever saw. If 
 Raphael had seen Hogarth’s pictures, he would 
 not have despised them. Those only can do it 
 (and they are welcome!) who, wanting all that 
 he had, can do nothing that he could not, or that 
 
96 THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 
 
 parison for transparency and delicacy of tint with 
 the two Junos.—Rubens was undoubtedly the 
 greatest scene-painter in the world, if we except 
 Paul Veronese, and the Fleming was to him 
 flat and insipid. “ It is place which lessens and 
 sets off.” 
 
 We once saw two pictures of Rubens’ hung 
 by the side of the Marriage of Cana in the 
 Louvre; and they looked nothing. The Paul 
 Veronese nearly occupied the side of a large 
 room (the modern French exhibition-room) and 
 it was like looking through the side of a wall, 
 or at a splendid banquet and gallery, full of 
 people, and full of interest. The texture of the 
 two Rubenses was woolly, or flowery, or sattiny : 
 it was all alike; but in the Venetian’s great work 
 the pillars were of stone, the floor was marble, 
 the tables were wood, the dresses were various 
 stuffs, the sky was air, the flesh was flesh; the 
 groups were living men and women. Turks, 
 emperors, ladies, painter, musicians—all was 
 real, dazzling, profuse, astonishing. It seemed 
 as if the very dogs under the table might get 
 up and bark, or that at the sound of a trumpet 
 the whole assembly might rise and disperse in 
 different directions, in an instant. 
 
 This picture, however, was considered as the 
 triumph of Paul Veronese, and the two by 
 the Flemish artist, that hung beside it, were 
 very inferior to some of his, and assuredly to 
 those now exhibited in the Gallery at Lord 
 
106 
 
 PICTURES AT WILTON. 
 
 to keep alive the yearnings of passion. We re¬ 
 member one other picture (and but one) in Lord 
 Radnor’s Collection, that was of this ideal 
 character. It was a Magdalen by Guido, with 
 streaming hair, and streaming eyes looking up¬ 
 wards—full of sentiment and beauty. 
 
 There is but one fine picture at Wilton-house. 
 The Family Vandyke; with a noble Gallery of 
 antique marbles, which we may pronounce to be 
 invaluable to the lover of art or to the student of 
 history or human nature. Roman Emperors or 
 Proconsuls, the poets, orators, and almost all the 
 great men of antiquity, are here “ ranged in a 
 row,” and palpably embodied either in genuine 
 or traditional busts. Some of these indicate an 
 almost preternatural capacity and inspired awful¬ 
 ness of look, particularly some of the earlier 
 sages and fabulists of Greece, which we appre¬ 
 hend to be ideal representations; while other 
 more modern and better authenticated ones of 
 celebrated Romans are distinguished by the 
 strength and simplicity of common English 
 heads of the best class.—The large picture of 
 the Pembroke Family, by Vandyke, is unrivalled 
 in its kind. It is a history of the time. It throws 
 us nearly two centuries back to men and man¬ 
 ners that no longer exist. The members of a 
 Noble House (’tis a hundred and sixty years 
 since) are brought together in proprid persond, 
 and appear in all the varieties of age, character, 
 and costume. There are the old Lord and Lady 
 
PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 OXFORD AND BLENHEIM. 
 
 —♦- 
 
 Rome has been called the “Sacred City:”— 
 might not our Oxford be called so too ? There 
 is an air about it, resonant of joy and hope: it 
 speaks with a thousand tongues to the heart: it 
 waves its mighty shadow over the imagination: 
 it stands in lowly sublimity, on the “ hill of 
 ages and points with prophetic fingers to the 
 sky: it greets the eager gaze from afar, “with 
 glistening spires and pinnacles adorned,” that 
 shine with an eternal light as with the lustre of 
 setting suns ; and a dream and a glory hover 
 round its head, as the spirits of former times, a 
 throng of intellectual shapes, are seen retreating 
 or advancing to the eye of memory: its streets 
 are paved with the names of learning that can 
 never wear out: its green quadrangles breathe 
 the silence of thought, conscious of the weight 
 of yearnings innumerable after the past, of 
 loftiest aspirations for the future: Isis babbles 
 of the Muse, its waters are from the springs of 
 
 K 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 173 
 
 traits; for the hired dresses with which our his¬ 
 torical painters clothe their figures sit no more 
 easily on the imagination of the artist than they 
 do gracefully on the lay-figures over which they 
 are thrown. 
 
 Giorgione, Paul Veronese, Tintoret, and the 
 Bassans are the remaining great names of the 
 Venetian school. The excellence of all of these 
 consisted in their bold, masterly, and striking 
 imitation of nature. Their want of ideal form 
 and elevated character is indeed a constant sub¬ 
 ject of reproach against them. Giorgione takes 
 the first place among them ; for he was in some 
 measure the master _ of Titian; whereas the 
 others were only his disciples. The Caraccis, 
 Domenichino, and the rest of the Bolognese 
 school formed themselves on a principle of com¬ 
 bining the excellences of the Roman and Vene¬ 
 tian painters, in which they for a while succeeded 
 to a considerable degree ; but they degenerated 
 and dwindled away into absolute insignificance 
 in proportion as they departed from nature or 
 the great masters who had copied her, to mould 
 their works on academic rules and the phantoms 
 of abstract perfection. 
 
 Rubens is the prince of the Flemish painters. 
 Of all the great painters he is perhaps the most 
 artificial: the man who painted most from his 
 imagination, and, what was almost the inevit¬ 
 able consequence, the most of a mannerist. He 
 had neither the Greek form to study from, nor 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 181 
 
 found insight into the weak sides of character 
 and manners, in all their tendencies, combina¬ 
 tions, and contrasts. There is not a single pic¬ 
 ture of his containing a representation of merely 
 natural or domestic scenery. His object is not so 
 much “to hold the mirror up to nature,” as “ to 
 show vice her own feature, scorn her own image.” 
 Folly is there seen at the height—the moon 
 is at the full-—it is the very error of the time. 
 There is a perpetual collision of eccentricities, 
 a tilt and tournament of absurdities, pampered 
 into all sorts of affectation, airy, extravagant, 
 ostentatious! Yet he is as little a caricaturist as 
 he is a painter of still life. Criticism has not 
 done him justice, though public opinion has. 
 His works have received a sanction which it 
 would be vain to dispute, in the universal delight 
 and admiration with which they have been re¬ 
 garded, from their first appearance to the present 
 moment. If the quantity of amusement, or of 
 matter for reflection, which they have afforded, 
 is that by which we are to judge of precedence 
 among the intellectual benefactors of mankind, 
 there are perhaps few persons who can put in a 
 stronger claim, to our gratitude than Hogarth. 
 The wonderful knowledge which he possessed of 
 human life and manners is only to be surpassed 
 (if it can be) by the powers of invention with 
 which he has arranged his materials, and by the 
 mastery of execution with which he has em¬ 
 bodied and made tangible the very thoughts and 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 195 
 
 pensive languor in the expression, which is not 
 taken from nature. I think the gloss of art is 
 never so ill-bestowed as on such subjects, the 
 essence of which is simplicity. It is, perhaps, 
 the general fault of Gainsborough, that he pre¬ 
 sents us with an ideal common life, of which we 
 have had a surfeit in poetry and romance. His 
 subjects are softened and sentimentalized too 
 much; it is not simple unaffected nature that 
 we see, but nature sitting for her picture. Our 
 artist, we suspect, led the way to that mas¬ 
 querade style which piques itself on giving the 
 air of an Adonis to the driver of a hay-cart, and 
 models the features of a milk-maid on the prin¬ 
 ciples of the antique. His Woodman s Head is 
 admirable. Nor can too much praise be given 
 to his Shepherd Boy in a Storm, in which the 
 unconscious simplicity of the boy’s expression, 
 looking up with his hands folded and with timid 
 wonder;—the noisy chattering of a magpie 
 perched above,—and the rustling of the coming 
 storm in the branches of the trees,—puoduce a 
 most delightful and romantic impression on 
 the mind. Gainsborough was to be considered, 
 perhaps, rather as a man of delicate taste, and 
 of an elegant and feeling mind, than as a man 
 of genius; as a lover of the art rather than an 
 artist. He devoted himself to it, with a view to 
 amuse and soothe his mind, with the ease of a 
 gentleman, not with the severity of a professional 
 student. He wished to make his pictures, like 
 
2S8 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 purity or liberality of professional decisions 
 cannot, therefore, in such cases be expected to 
 counteract the tendency which an appeal to 
 the public has to lower the standard of taste. 
 The artist, to succeed, must let himself down 
 to the level of his judges, for he cannot raise 
 them up to his own. The highest efforts of 
 genius, in every Avalk of art, can never be pro¬ 
 perly understood by mankind in general: there 
 are numberless beauties and truths which lie 
 far beyond their comprehension. It is only as 
 refinement or sublimity are blended with other 
 qualities of a more obvious and common nature, 
 that they pass current with the world. Com¬ 
 mon sense, which has been sometimes appealed 
 to as the criterion of taste, is nothing but the 
 common capacity, applied to common facts and 
 feelings ; but it neither is, nor pretends to be ? 
 the judge of anything else.—To suppose that 
 it can really appreciate the excellence of works 
 of high art is as absurd as to suppose that 
 it could produce them. Taste is the highest 
 degree of sensibility, or the impression of the 
 most cultivated and sensible minds, as genius 
 is the result of the highest powers of feeling and 
 invention. It may be objected that the public 
 taste is capable of gradual improvement, because 
 in the end the public do justice to wmrks of the 
 greatest merit. This is a mistake. The repu¬ 
 tation ultimately and slowly affixed to works 
 of genius is stamped upon them by authority. 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 283 
 
 This last head appears to contain a number of 
 gratis dicta, got together for the sake of com¬ 
 pleting a decade of propositions. They have, 
 however, some show of truth, and we should 
 add little clearness to them by any reasoning 
 upon the matter. 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 295 
 
 A large Oval Engraved Rock Crystal Cup, with the 
 figure of a Syren, carved from the block, and embracing 
 a part of the vessel with her wings, so as to form a han¬ 
 dle ; from the Royal Collection of France. 
 
 An Oval Cup and Cover of Oriental Mamillated 
 Agate, richly marked in arborescent mocoa, elaborately 
 chased and engraved in a very superior manner. An 
 unique article. 
 
 Shall we go on with this fooling ? We cannot. 
 The reader must be tired of such an uninterest¬ 
 ing account of empty jars and caskets—it reads 
 so like Della Cruscan poetry. They are not 
 even Nugce Canorce. The pictures are much in 
 the same mimminee-pimminee taste. For instance, 
 in the first and second days’ sale we meet with 
 the following:— 
 
 A high-finished miniature drawing of a Holy Family, 
 and a portrait: one of those with which the patents of 
 the Venetian nobility were usually embellished. 
 
 A small landscape, by Brueughel. 
 
 A small miniature painting after Titian, by Stella. 
 
 A curious painting, by Peter Peters Brueughel, the con¬ 
 flagration of Troy—a choice specimen of this scarce 
 master. 
 
 A picture by Franks, representing the temptation of St- 
 Anthony. 
 
 A picture by old Brueughel, representing a fete—a singu¬ 
 lar specimen of his first manner. 
 
 Lucas Cranach—The Madonna and Child—highly fin¬ 
 ished. 
 
 A crucifixion, painted upon a gold ground, by Andrea 
 Orcagna, a rare and early specimen of Italic art. From 
 the Campo Santo di Pisa. 
 
 A lady’s portrait, by Cosway. 
 
 Netecher—a lady seated, playing on the harpsichord, &c. 
 
 Who cares any thing about such frippery. 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 307 
 
 who, after the deluge of barbarism and violence 
 had subsided, stood alone in the world, and had 
 to sow the seeds of . countless generations of 
 knowledge. We can conceive of some village 
 Michael Angelo, with a soul too mighty for its 
 tenement of clay, whose longing aspirations 
 after truth and good were palsied by the refusal 
 of his hand to execute them,—struggling to 
 burst the trammels and trying to shake off the 
 load of discouragement that oppressed him. 
 what must be his exultation to see the speaking 
 statue, the stately pile, rise up slowly before 
 him,—the idea in his mind embodied out of 
 nothing, without model or precedent,—to see a 
 huge cathedral heave its ponderous weight above 
 the earth, or the solemn figure of an apostle 
 point from one corner of it to the skies ; to 
 think that future ages would, perhaps, gaze at 
 the work with the same delight and wonder that 
 his own did, and not suffer his name to sink 
 into the same oblivion as those who had gone 
 before him, or as the brutes that perish this 
 was, indeed, to be admitted into the communion^ 
 the holiest of holies of genius, and to drink of 
 the waters of life freely ! Art, as it springs from 
 the source of genius, is like the act of creation ; 
 it has the same obscurity and grandeur about it, 
 afterwards, whatever perfection it attains, it be¬ 
 comes mechanical. Its strongest impulse and 
 inspiration is- derived, not from what it has done, 
 but from what it has to do. It is not surprising 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 309 
 
 Spare us, good Mr. Prophesier! Art cannot be 
 transmitted by a receipt, or theorem, like science, 
 and cannot therefore be improved ad libitum. 
 It has inseparably to do with individual nature 
 and individual genius. 
 
 The Second Lecture is on Egyptian Sculpture, 
 and here Mr. Flaxman displays the same accu¬ 
 rate information and diligent research as before. 
 The Egyptian statues, the Sphynx, the Memnon, 
 &c., were, as is well known, principally distin¬ 
 guished for their size, and the immense labour 
 and expense bestowed upon them. The critic, 
 after justly characterizing their style and merits, 
 proceeds :—“ Pythagoras, after he had studied 
 several years in Egypt, sacrificed a hundred 
 oxen in consequence of having discovered that 
 a square of the longest side of a right-angled 
 triangle is equal to the two squares of the 
 lesser sides of the same triangle; and thence it 
 follows that the knowledge of the Egyptians 
 could not have been very great at that time in 
 geometry. This will naturally account for that 
 want of motion in their statues and relievos, 
 which can only be obtained by a careful obser¬ 
 vation of nature, assisted by geometry.” 
 
 This is, we apprehend, one of the weak 
 points of Mr. Flaxman’s reasoning. That geo¬ 
 metry may be of great use to fix and ascertain 
 certain general principles of the art, we are far 
 from disputing; but surely it was no more neces¬ 
 sary for the Egyptian sculptor to wait for the 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 319 
 
 superhuman merit, stuck-up gods and goddesses. 
 But a new principle is at work in the others, 
 which we had not seen or felt the want of before 
 (not a studied trick, or curious refinement, but 
 an obvious truth, arising from a more intimate 
 acquaintance with, and firmer reliance on, na¬ 
 ture) ; a principle of fusion, of motion, so that 
 the marble flows like a wave. The common 
 antiques represent the most perfect forms and 
 proportions, with each part perfectly understood 
 and executed; every thing is brought out, every 
 thing is made as exquisite and imposing as it 
 can be in itself; but each part seems to be cut 
 out of the marble, and to answer to a model of 
 itself in the artist’s mind. But in the fragment 
 of the Theseus, the whole is melted into one 
 impression, like wax ; there is all the flexibility, 
 the malleableness of flesh ; there is the same 
 alternate tension and relaxation; the same sway 
 and yielding of the parts ; ‘the right hand knows 
 what the left hand doeth and the statue bends 
 and plays under the framer’s mighty hand and 
 eye, as if, instead of being a block of marble, it 
 was provided with an internal machinery of 
 nerves and muscles, and felt every the slighest 
 pressure or motion from one extremity to the 
 other. This, then, is the greatest grandeur of 
 style, from the comprehensive idea of the whole, 
 joined to the greatest simplicity, from the entire 
 union and subordination of the parts. There is 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 321 
 
 another disputed point of vital interest to the 
 arts. Sir Joshua Reynolds contends, among 
 others, that grandeur of style consists in giving 
 only the masses, and leaving out the details. The 
 statues we are speaking of repudiate this doc¬ 
 trine, and at least demonstrate the possibility of 
 uniting the two things, which had been idly 
 represented to be incompatible, as if they were 
 not obviously found together in nature. A great 
 number of parts may be collected into one mass ; 
 as, on the other hand, a work may equally want 
 minute details, or large and imposing masses. 
 Suppose all the light to be thrown on one side 
 of a face, and all the shadow on the other; the 
 chiaro-scuro may be worked up with the utmost 
 delicacy and pains in the one, and every vein or 
 freckle distinctly marked on the other, without 
 destroying the general effect—that is, the two 
 broad masses of light and shade. Mr. Flaxman 
 takes notice that there were two eras of Grecian 
 art before the time of Pericles and Phidias, when 
 it was at its height. In the first, they gave only 
 a gross or formal representation of the objects ; 
 so that you could merely say, ‘ This is a man, 
 that is a horse.’ To this clumsy concrete style 
 succeeded the most elaborate finishing of parts, 
 without selection, grace, or grandeur. ‘ Elaborate 
 finishing was soon afterwards’ [after the time of 
 Daedalus and his scholars] f carried to excess ; 
 undulating locks and spiral knots of hair like 
 shells, as well as the drapery, were wrought with 
 
 Y 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 505 . 
 
 506 . 
 50 7 . 
 
 508 . 
 
 509 . 
 
 511 . 
 
 512 . 
 
 513 . 
 
 514 . 
 
 515 . 
 
 516 . 
 317 - 
 318 . 
 
 519 . 
 
 520 . 
 
 521 . 
 
 522 . 
 
 523 . 
 
 524 . 
 
 525 . 
 
 526 . 
 
 527 . 
 
 528 . 
 
 529 . 
 
 530 . 
 531 . 
 
 to 
 
 537 ) 
 
 538 . 
 
 539 . 
 
 540 . 
 
 541 . 
 
 542 . 
 
 543 . 
 
 544 . 
 
 545 . 
 
 546 . 
 
 547 * 
 
 548 . 
 
 THE QUEEN’S AUDIENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 The Duchess of Lunenberg . 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 The Woman of Samaria . 
 
 Cupid Shaving bis Bow. 
 
 James IV. of Scotland, his brother i 
 
 Alexander, and St. Andrew./ 
 
 The Queen of James IV. with St. ^ 
 
 George ./ 
 
 Henry VIII. and Family . 
 
 Countess of Lennox . 
 
 The Death of the Chevalier Bayard ... 
 
 The Wise Men’s Offering. 
 
 The Death of Epaminondas. 
 
 Henry VIII. embarking from Dover.. 
 
 The Battle of the Spurs. 
 
 The Meeting of Henry VIII. and') 
 Francis I. of France, or the “ Field l 
 
 of the Cloth of Gold” . . J 
 
 Pilate delivering up Christ . 
 
 The Meeting of Henry VIII. and the j 
 
 Emperor Maximilian.j 
 
 The Apostles, Peter, James, and John 
 
 Margaret, Queen of Scots. 
 
 Duke of Brunswick. 
 
 Edward IV... 
 
 Isabella, Arch-Duchess of Austria, 
 daughter of Philip II. of Spain ... J 
 
 Duchess of Brunswick . 
 
 Head of a Female . 
 
 Head of a Youth. 
 
 Portrait of a Man... 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman. 
 
 Foreign Birds 
 
 Portrait of a Man . 
 
 Christian IV. King of Denmark .. 
 Maximilian, Archduke of Austria 
 The Maid of the Inn. 
 
 THE PUBLIC DINING ROOM. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Prometheus chained to the Rock .... 
 
 A Ruin . 
 
 Duns Scotus. 
 
 Don Carlos, son of Philip IV. of"! 
 
 Spain. j 
 
 King William III. when a boy. 
 
 THE PRINCE OF WALES’S PRESENCE 
 CHAMBER. 
 
 Count Gondamer, the Ambassador'! 
 from the King of Spain to King V 
 James I.j 
 
 My tens. 
 
 G. Chiari. 
 Palma. 
 Parmegiano. 
 Jan de Mabuse. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Sckiavone. 
 Holbein . 
 
 Caravaggio . 
 Anonymous . 
 My tens. 
 Belchamp. 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Mytens. 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Bogdane. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Rosalba. 
 
 Young Palma. 
 
 Vivian and Jan MieL 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Mytens• 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 LONGFORD CASTLE, WILTS, 
 
 THE SEAT OF 
 
 Cijf IEvtgI)t i)on. tlje fEarl of 3flatlnor. 
 
 11 . 
 
 12 . 
 
 13. 
 
 ENTRANCE HALL. 
 
 View of the Sea-port of Folkestone .. 
 
 BILLIARD ROOM. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Christopher Bouverie, 
 
 Bart./ 
 
 Portrait of Lady Bouverie, Wife ofl 
 
 Sir Christopher./ 
 
 Portrait of Sir Edward Bouverie, \ 
 
 Bart. / 
 
 Portrait of Anne, Wife of Jacob Earl 
 
 of Radnor.• • / 
 
 Portrait of Harriet, first Wife of Wil- 
 
 liam, Earl of Radnor./ 
 
 Portrait of William, Earl of Radnor.. 
 Portrait of Rebecca, second Wife of l 
 
 the above./ 
 
 Portrait of Anne, third Wife of the| 
 
 above. J 
 
 Portrait of Mary, second Wife of Ja- ) 
 
 cob Visct. Folkestone.) 
 
 Portrait of Jacob Visct. Folkestone .. 
 Portrait of Mary, first Wife of Jacob ) 
 Visct. Folkstone. ) 
 
 VESTIBULE. 
 
 Interior of a Church . 
 
 Marlow. 
 
 Klosterman . 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Hudson. 
 
 Sir J. Reynolds. 
 Coles. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Van Glaf. 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 Uii 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Virgin and Dead Christ. 
 
 Small Landscape. 
 
 Joseph and Mary. 
 
 Head of the Virgin. 
 
 Shepherd and Cattle. 
 
 Mary, Jesus, and John the Baptist .... 
 
 Christ supported in the Clouds . 
 
 Virgin, Jesus and St. John. 
 
 Jacob’s Dream. 
 
 Passage of the Red Sea. 
 
 Mary and Jesus . 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 St. Peter . 
 
 Martyrdom of St. Catherine. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Flemish Heads. 
 
 Flemish Heads. 
 
 Monkeys in Capuchin Habits. 
 
 Martyrdom of the Saints. 
 
 Jesus and his Mother. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 Two Boys. 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Martyrdom of St. Andrew . 
 
 Scourging of Christ. 
 
 Descent of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost 
 Adoration of the Wise Men.. 
 
 THE CHAPEL. 
 
 Christ and Zebedee’s Wife. 
 
 Solomon’s Idolatry. 
 
 Christ and Mary Magdalen... 
 
 Saul and the Witch of Endor. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds.. 
 
 Jephtha’s Vow. 
 
 Finding of Moses .. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 R. Van Reni. 
 
 [Ajter] Paul Bril . 
 
 F. Buroccio . 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 C. Maratii, 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Surcelo Ferrara . 
 Cigoli. 
 
 Agnolo Bronzino, 
 Guido. 
 
 Poelemberg , 
 
 C. Murutti. 
 
 F Bolognese . 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 
 John de Lis, of Breda. 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 F. Trevisani. 
 
 Sebastian Ricci, 
 Lorenzo Credi, 
 Verdizzotto. 
 
 F. Trevisani , 
 
 Curio Le Brun . 
 J. de Lis. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Carlo Loti . 
 Liberi. 
 
 C. Loti. 
 
 Liberi. 
 
 Luca Giordano, 
 Carlo Loti . 
 
 THE BILLIARD ROOM. 
 
 Anne, Countess of Exeter... 
 
 John, Fifth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Elizabeth. Countess of Exeter (Second wife's 
 
 of the Sixth Earl) . J 
 
 Honourable Edward Cecil (Fourth Son ofi 
 
 the Fifth Earl of Exeter).J 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Aislabie (Daughter of the ■> 
 
 Fifth Earl of Exeter)...j 
 
 Brownlow, Ninth Earl of Exeter . 
 
 Letitia, Countess of Exeter (wife of the^ 
 
 Ninth Earl) a copy by.J 
 
 William, Third Duke of Devonshire. 
 
 Rachael, his Duchess. 
 
 Brownlow, Ninth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Hannah Sophia, his Countess. 
 
 Honourable William Cecil, (brother to the'l 
 Sixth Earl of Exeter)./ 
 
 Knell er. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Hudson. 
 
 Powell. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Richardson. 
 Mrs. Varelto . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 1X7 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds . 
 Marriage of Boaz and Ruth. 
 
 Three Elements. 
 
 Mary and Jesus . 
 
 Man’s Head. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Fruit-Piece . 
 
 Virgin and Child .. 
 
 BLACK BED-CHAMBER. 
 
 Christ giving the Keys to St. Peter . 
 
 Charles XII. of Sweden . 
 
 Venus and Cupid . 
 
 Erminia discovering herself to the Shepherds 
 
 Architectural Piece. 
 
 Countess of Desmond (the Celebrated Lady 
 
 who died in 1612, aged 145)./ 
 
 Latona and the Countrymen . 
 
 Isabella Clara Eugenia, daughter of Philip 
 
 II. of Spain./ 
 
 Lady’s Head, unknown. 
 
 The Painter’s Head . 
 
 iEthra and Theseus ... 
 
 Ariadne abandoned by Theseus . 
 
 WEST DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 Woman Taken in Adultery. 
 
 Jupiter and Antiope . 
 
 Lady Pembroke . 
 
 Rocks between Naples and Puzzuoli. 
 
 Carthusian Friar. 
 
 Doris wounded by Silvio.. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 St. Jerome. 
 
 Satyr . 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 iEsop’s Fable. 
 
 Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex . 
 
 Lady Sophia Ann Cecil, Daughter of Thomas 
 
 First Earl of Exeter.J 
 
 David and Bathsheba. 
 
 Death of Adonis. 
 
 Sketch of the Altar at Perugia .. 
 
 Virgin appearing to St. Bruno ... 
 
 Nymphs adoring the statue of Pan. 
 
 St. Jerome . 
 
 Countess Matilda on Horseback. 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 C. Ferri. 
 
 F. Albano. 
 Albert Durer. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Domenichinn. 
 C. de Heein 
 Sasso Ferrata. 
 
 Palma Vecchio. 
 Anonymous. 
 Michael Angelo. 
 Lauri. 
 
 Old Franck. 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 [ After ] Elsheimcr. 
 Chr. Massini. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Van Eyck. 
 
 Ang. Kauffman. 
 A. Silla. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 Ashfield. 
 
 Minderhout. 
 
 A. Caracci. 
 
 G. Chiari. 
 
 Elsheimer. 
 
 [After] Van Balen. 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 JO. Monna. 
 
 Hendrick Van Lunt. 
 Castiglione. 
 
 M. Gerard. 
 
 Janssen. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 F. Baroccio. 
 
 NORTH-WEST DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 Neapolitan Girl . Peters. 
 
 Beggars Regaling . Murillo. 
 
 Landscape, with Venus and Adonis . Claude. 
 
 Landscape. Gio. Bolognese. 
 
 Domenichino’s Mistress . YDomenichino. 
 
 Jupiter painting, with Mercury and Diana”! I , . 
 attending .. *. Jr 
 
 Van Eyck. 
 Domenichino. 
 Passeri. 
 Cimabue. 
 

MK. ANGERSTEIN’s COLLECTION. 
 
 15 
 
 pect. The marble pavement, of which the light 
 is even dazzling ; the figures of the two Rabbis 
 to the right, radiant with crimson, green, and 
 azure; the background, which seems like some 
 rich oil-colour smeared over a ground of gold, 
 and where the eye staggers on from one abyss 
 of obscurity to another,—place this picture in 
 the first rank of Rembrandt’s wonderful perform¬ 
 ances. If this extraordinary genius was the most 
 literal and vulgar of draughtsmen, he was the 
 most ideal of colourists. When Annibal Caracci 
 vowed to God, that Titian and Correggio were 
 the only true painters, he had not seen Rem¬ 
 brandt ;—if he had, he would have added him to 
 the list. The Poussin is a Dance of Bacchanals 
 [42] theirs are not “ pious orgies.” It is, 
 however, one of this master’s finest pictures, 
 both in the spirit of the execution, and the in¬ 
 genuity and equivoque of the invention. If the 
 purity of the drawing will make amends for 
 the impurity of the design, it may pass : as¬ 
 suredly the same subject, badly executed, would 
 not be endured ■, but the life of mind, the dex¬ 
 terity of combination displayed in it, supply the 
 want of decorum. The old adage, that “ Vice, 
 by losing all its grossness, loses half its evil,” 
 seems chiefly applicable to pictures. Thus a 
 naked figure, that has nothing but its nakedness 
 to recommend it, is not fit to be hung up in decent 
 apartments. If it is a Nymph by Titian, Cor¬ 
 reggio’s Io, we no longer think of its being 
 
16 mr. aiJgerstein’s collection. 
 
 naked ; but merely of its sweetness, its beauty, 
 its naturalness. So far art, as it is intellectual, 
 has a refinement and an extreme unction of its 
 own. Indifferent pictures, like dull people, must 
 absolutely be moral ! We suggest this as a bint 
 to those persons, of more gallantry than discre¬ 
 tion, who think that to have an indecent daub 
 hanging up in one corner of the room is proof 
 of a liberality of gusto, and a considerable pro¬ 
 gress in virtu. Tout au contraire. 
 
 We have a clear, brown, woody Landscape bv 
 Gaspar Poussin [161], in his fine determined 
 style of pencilling, which gives to earth its so¬ 
 lidity, and to the air its proper attributes. There 
 are, perhaps, no landscapes that excel his in this 
 fresh, healthy look of nature. One might say 
 that wherever his pencil loves to haunt, “ the 
 air is delicate.” We forgot to mention a St. 
 John in the Wilderness, by A. Caracci [25], which 
 has much of the autumnal tone, the “ sear and 
 yellow leaf,” of Titian’s landscape compositions. 
 A Rape of the Sabines [38], in the inner room, 
 by Rubens, is, we think, the most tasteless 
 picture in the Collection : to see plump, florid 
 viragos struggling with bearded ruffians, and 
 tricked out in the flounces, furbelows, and finery 
 of the court of Louis XIV. is preposterous. But 
 there is another Rubens in the outer room, which 
 though fantastical and quaint, has qualities to 
 redeem all faults. It is an allegory of himself 
 and his three wives, as a St. George and Holy 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 V 
 
 but every thing in it belongs to a more polished 
 style of art than Andrea Sacchi. Be this as it 
 may, it is one of the most perfect pictures in 
 the collection. Of the portraits of known indi¬ 
 viduals in this room, we wish to say but little, 
 for we can say nothing good. That of John 
 Kemble, by Beechey [153], is perhaps the most 
 direct and manly. In this room is Rubens’s 
 Samson and Delilah [168], a coarse daub—at 
 least it looks so between two pictures by Van¬ 
 dyke, Charity [124], and a Madonna and Infant 
 Christ [135]. That painter probably never pro¬ 
 duced any thing more complete than these two 
 compositions. They have the softness of air, 
 the solidity of marble: the pencil appears to 
 float and glide over the features of the face, the 
 folds of the drapery, with easy volubility, but to 
 mark every thing with a precision, a force, a 
 grace indescribable. Truth seems to hold the 
 pencil, and elegance to guider it. The attitudes 
 are exquisite, and the expression all but divine. 
 It is not like Raphael’s, it is true—but whose 
 else was ? Vandyke was born in Holland, and 
 lived most of his time in England!—There are 
 several capital pictures of horses, &c. by Wou- 
 vermans, in the same room, particularly the one 
 with a hay-cart loading on the top of a rising 
 ground [53]. The composition is as striking 
 and pleasing as the execution is delicate. There 
 is immense knowledge and character in Wou- 
 vermans’ horses—an ear, an eye turned round. 
 
42 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 we remember any thing, we cannot forget 
 them. As long as we have a wish for pleasure, 
 we may find it here; for it depends only on our 
 love for them, and not on theirs for us. The en¬ 
 joyment is purely ideal, and is refined, unembit¬ 
 tered, unfading, for that reason. 
 
 A complaint has been made of the short-lived 
 duration of works of art, and particularly of 
 pictures ; and poets more especially are apt to 
 lament and to indulge in elegiac strains over the 
 fragile beauties of the sister-art. The complaint 
 is inconsiderate, if not invidious. They will last 
 our time. Nay, they have lasted centuries before 
 us, and will last centuries after us; and even when 
 they are no more, will leave a shadow and a cloud 
 of glory behind them, through all time. Lord 
 Bacon exclaims triumphantly, “ Have not the 
 poems of Homer lasted five-and-twenty hundred 
 years, and not a syllable of them is lost ? ” But 
 it might be asked in return, “ Have not many 
 of the Greek statues now lasted almost as long, 
 without losing a particle of their splendour or 
 their meaning, while the Iliad (except to a very 
 few) has become almost a dead letter?” Has 
 not the Venus of Medicis had almost as many 
 partisans and admirers as the Helen of the old 
 blind bard ? Besides, what has Phidias gained in 
 reputation even by the discovery of the Elgin 
 Marbles ? Or is not Michael Angelo's the greatest 
 name in modern art, whose works we only know 
 from description and by report ? Surely, there 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 121 
 
 absence, did not answer to it ? No. There were 
 other pictures in the world that did, and objects 
 in nature still more perfect. This is the melan¬ 
 choly privilege of art; it exists chiefly in idea, 
 and is not liable to serious reverses. If we are 
 disappointed in the character of one we love, 
 it breaks the illusion altogether ; for we drew 
 certain consequences from a face. If an old 
 friendship is broken up, we cannot tell how to 
 replace it, without the aid of habit and a length 
 of time. But a picture is nothing but a face; it 
 interests us only in idea. Hence we need never 
 be afraid of raising our standard of taste too 
 high; for the mind rises with it, exalted and 
 refined, and can never be much injured by finding 
 out its casual mistakes. Like the possessor of 
 a splendid collection, who is indifferent to or turns 
 away from common pictures, we have a selecter 
 gallery in our own minds. In this sense, the 
 knowledge of art is its own exceeding great reward. 
 But is there not danger that we may become too 
 fastidious, and have nothing left to admire ? 
 None: for the conceptions of the human soul 
 cannot rise superior to the power of art; or if 
 they do, then we have surely every reason to be 
 satisfied with them. The mind, in what depends 
 upon itself alone, “soon rises from defeat unhurt,” 
 though its pride may be for a moment “ humbled 
 by such rebuke,” 
 
 “ And in its liquid texture mortal wound 
 Receives no more than can the fluid air.” 
 
122 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE, 
 
 As an illustration of the same thing, there are 
 two Claudes at Burleigh, which certainly do not 
 come up to the celebrity of the artist’s name. 
 They did not please me formerly: the sky, the 
 water, the trees seemed all too blue, too much 
 of the colour of indigo. But I believed, and 
 wondered. I could no longer admire these 
 specimens of the artist at present, but assuredly 
 my admiration of the artist himself was not less 
 than before; for since then, I had seen other 
 works by the same hand, 
 
 -“ inimitable on earth 
 
 By model or by shading pencil drawn,”— 
 
 surpassing every idea that the mind could form 
 of art, except by having seen them. I remember 
 one in particular that Walsh Porter had (a bow¬ 
 shot beyond all others)—a vernal landscape, an 
 “Hesperian fable true,” with a blue unclouded 
 sky, and green trees and grey turrets and an 
 unruffled sea beyond. But never was there sky 
 so soft or trees so clad with spring, such air- 
 drawn towers or such halcyon seas: Zephyr 
 seemed to fan the air, and nature looked on and 
 smiled. The name of Claude has alone something 
 in it that softens and harmonises the mind. It 
 touches a magic chord. Oh ! matchless scenes, 
 oh ! orient skies, bright with purple and gold ; ye 
 opening glades and distant sunny vales, glittering 
 with fleecy flocks, pour all your enchantment 
 into my soul, let it reflect your chastened image, 
 and forget all meaner things ! Perhaps the most 
 
150 
 
 on hogarth’s 
 
 painter can procure real models, and he can get 
 them to sit as long as he pleases. Hence, in 
 general, those attitudes and expressions have 
 been chosen which could be assumed the longest ; 
 and in imitating which, the artist, by taking 
 pains and time, might produce almost as complete 
 fac-similes as he could of a flower or a Hower-pot, 
 of a damask curtain, or a china vase. The copy 
 was as perfect and as uninteresting in the one 
 case as in the other. On the contrary, subjects 
 of drollery and ridicule affording frequent exam¬ 
 ples of strange deformity and peculiarity of fea¬ 
 tures, these have been eagerly seized by another 
 class of artists, who, without subjecting them¬ 
 selves to the laborious drudgery of the Dutch 
 School and their imitators, have produced our 
 popular caricatures, by rudely copying or ex¬ 
 aggerating the casual irregularities of the human 
 countenance. Hogarth has equally avoided the 
 faults of both these styles, the insipid tameness of 
 the one, and the gross vulgarity of the other, so 
 as to give to the productions of his pencil equal 
 solidity and effect. For his faces go to the very 
 verge of caricature, and yet never (we believe in 
 any single instance) go beyond it: they take the 
 very widest latitude, and yet we always see the 
 links which bind them to nature: they bear all 
 the marks and carry all the conviction of reality 
 with them, as if we had seen the actual faces for 
 the first time, from the precision, consistency, and 
 good sense with which the whole and every part 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 157 
 
 remains of antiquity, it was an obvious, but a 
 superficial, conclusion that they must have been 
 created from the idea existing in the artist’s 
 mind, and could not have been copied from any¬ 
 thing existing in nature. The contrary, however, 
 is the fact. The general form both of the face 
 and figure, which we observe in the old statues, 
 is not an ideal abstraction, is not a fanciful in¬ 
 vention of the- sculptor, but is as completely local 
 and national (though it happens to be more 
 beautiful) as the figures on a Chinese screen, or a 
 copper-plate engraving of a negro chieftain in a 
 book of travels. It will not be denied that there 
 is a difference of physiognomy as well as of 
 complexion in different races of men. The Greek 
 form appears to have been naturally beautiful, 
 and they had, besides, every advantage of climate, 
 of dress, of exercise, and modes of life to improve 
 it. The artist had also every facility afforded 
 him in the study and knowledge of the human 
 form ; and their religious and public institutions 
 gave him every encouragement in the prosecu¬ 
 tion of his art. All these causes contributed to 
 the perfection of these noble productions 5 but 
 I should be inclined principally to attribute the 
 superior symmetry of form common to the Greek 
 statues, in the first place, to the superior sym¬ 
 metry of the models in nature, and, in the second, 
 to the more constant opportunities for studying 
 them. If we allow, also, for the superior genius 
 of the people, we shall not be wrong ; but this 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 171 
 
 sition, though even this appears to have been 
 more from habit than want of power; but his 
 drawing of actual forms, where they were not to 
 be put into momentary action, or adapted to 
 a particular expression, was as fine as possible. 
 His drawing of the forms of inanimate objects is 
 unrivalled. His trees have a marked character 
 and physiognomy of their own, and exhibit an 
 appearance of strength or flexibility, solidity or 
 lightness, as if they were endued with conscious 
 power and purposes. Character was another 
 excellence which Titian possessed in the highest 
 degree. It is scarcely speaking too highly of 
 his portraits to say that they have as much ex¬ 
 pression, that is, convey as fine an idea of intel¬ 
 lect and feeling, as the historical heads of Raphael. 
 The chief difference appears to be that the ex¬ 
 pression in Raphael is more imaginary and con¬ 
 templative, and in Titian more personal and con¬ 
 stitutional. The heads of the one seem thinking 
 more of some event or subject, those of the other 
 to be thinking more of* themselves. In the por¬ 
 traits of Titian, as might be expected, the Italian 
 character always predominates: there is a look 
 of piercing sagacity, of commanding intellect, 
 of acute sensibility, which it would be in vain 
 to seek for in any other portraits. The daring 
 spirit and irritable passions of the age and 
 country are distinctly stamped upon their coun¬ 
 tenances, and can be as little mistaken as the 
 costume which they wear. The portraits of 
 
176‘. 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 line of a poetical critic, where he speaks of 
 
 “ The soft precision of the clear Vandyke.” 
 
 The general object of this analysis of the works 
 of the great masters has been to show that their 
 pre-eminence has constantly depended, not on 
 the creation of a fantastic, abstract excellence, 
 existing nowhere but in their own mind, but in 
 their selecting and embodying some one view of 
 nature, which came immediately under their 
 habitual observation, and which their particular 
 genius led them to study and imitate with suc¬ 
 cess. This is certainly the case with Vandyke. 
 His portraits, mostly of English women, in the 
 Louvre, have a cool, refreshing air about them, 
 a look of simplicity and modesty even in the 
 very tone, which forms a fine contrast to the 
 voluptuous glow and mellow golden lustre of 
 Titian’s Italian women. There is a quality of 
 flesh-colour in Vandyke which is to be found in 
 no other painter, and which exactly conveys the 
 idea of the soft, smooth, sliding, continuous, 
 delicately varied surface of the skin. The ob¬ 
 jects in his pictures have the least possible dif¬ 
 ference of light and shade, and are presented 
 to the eye without passing through any indirect 
 medium. It is this extreme purity and silvery 
 clearness of tone, together with the facility and 
 precision of his particular forms, and a certain 
 air of fashionable elegance, characteristic of the 
 age in which he flourished, that places Vandyke 
 in the first rank of portrait-painters. 
 
178 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 ledge was profound. His colours are sometimes 
 dropped in lumps on the canvas; at other times 
 they are laid on as smooth as glass; and he not 
 unfrequently painted with the handle of his brush. 
 He had an eye for all objects as far as he had 
 seen them. His history and landscapes are 
 equally fine in their way. His landscapes one 
 could look at for ever, though there is nothing in 
 them. But “ they are of the earth, earthy.” It 
 seems as if he had dug them out of nature. 
 Everything is so true, so real, so full of all the 
 feelings and associations which the eye can sug¬ 
 gest to the other senses, that we immediately 
 take as strong an affection to them as if they 
 were our home—the very place where we were 
 brought up. No length of time could add to the 
 intensity of the impressions they convey. Rem¬ 
 brandt is the least classical and the most romantic 
 of all painters. His Jacob's Ladder is more like 
 a dream than any other picture that ever was 
 painted. The figure of Jacob himself is thrown 
 in one corner of 'the picture like a bundle of 
 clothes, while the dngels hover above the dark¬ 
 ness in the shape of airy wings. 
 
 It would be needless to prove that the gene¬ 
 rality of the Dutch painters copied from actual 
 objects. They have become almost a bye-word 
 for carrying this principle into its abuse, by 
 copying everything they saw, and having no 
 choice or preference of one thing to another 
 unless that they preferred that which was most 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 197 
 
 the farther they are proceeded in, the farther they 
 will lead us from the truth,—whether there is 
 not a systematic bias from the right line, by 
 which alone we can arrive at the goal of the 
 highest perfection, are questions well worth 
 considering. 
 
 I shall begin with Sir Joshua’s merits as an 
 artist. There is one error which I wish to cor¬ 
 rect at setting out, because I think it important. 
 There is not a greater or more unaccountable 
 mistake than the supposition that Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds owed his success or excellence in his 
 profession to his having been the first who in¬ 
 troduced into this country more general princi¬ 
 ples of the art, and who raised portrait to the 
 dignity of history, from the low drudgery of 
 copying the peculiarities, meannesses, and details 
 of individual nature, which was all that had been 
 attempted by his immediate predecessors. This 
 is so far from being true that the very reverse is 
 the fact. If Sir Joshua did not give these details 
 and peculiarities so much as might be wished, 
 those who went before him did not give them at 
 all. Those pretended general principles of the 
 art, which, it is said, “ alone give value and dig¬ 
 nity to it,” had been pushed to their extremest 
 absurdity before his time ; and it was in getting 
 rid of the mechanical systematic monotony and 
 middle forms, by the help of which Lely, Kneller, 
 Hudson, the French painters, and others, carried 
 on their manufactories of history and face- 
 
208 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 giving nor avoiding them, but in something 
 quite different from both. Any one may avoid 
 the details. So far there is no difference between 
 the Cartoons and a common sign - painting. 
 Greatness consists in giving the larger masses 
 and proportions with truth;—this does not pre¬ 
 vent giving the smaller ones too. The utmost 
 grandeur of outline, and the broadest masses of 
 light and shade, are perfectly compatible with 
 the utmost minuteness and delicacy of detail, as 
 may be seen in nature. It is not, indeed, com¬ 
 mon to see both qualities combined in the imita¬ 
 tions of nature, any more than the combinations 
 of other excellences; nor am I here saying to 
 which the principal attention of the artist should 
 be directed ; but I deny that, considered in them¬ 
 selves, the absence of the one quality is necessary 
 or sufficient to the production of the other. 
 
 If, for example, the form of the eye-brow is 
 correctly given, it will be perfectly indifferent to 
 the truth or grandeur of the design whether it 
 consists of one broad mark, or is composed of 
 a number of hair-lines arranged in the same 
 order. So, if the lights and shades are disposed 
 in fine and large masses, the breadth of the pic¬ 
 ture, as it is called, cannot possibly be affected 
 by the filling up of these masses with the details; 
 that is, with the subordinate distinctions which 
 appear in nature. The anatomical details in 
 Michael Angelo, the ever-varying outline of Ra¬ 
 phael, the perfect execution of the Greek statues 
 
212 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 which no elaboration of detached parts, or mark¬ 
 ing of the peculiarities of single features, is worth 
 any thing; but which at the same time is not 
 destroyed, but assisted, by the careful finishing, 
 and still more by giving the exact outline, of 
 each part. 
 
 It is on this point that the modern French and 
 English schools differ, and, in my opinion, are 
 both wrong. The English seem generally to 
 suppose, that if they only leave out the subordi¬ 
 nate parts, they are sure of the general result. 
 The French, on the contrary, as erroneously 
 imagine that, by attending successively to each 
 separate part, they must infallibly arrive at a 
 correct whole : not considering that, besides the 
 parts, there is their relation to each other, and 
 the general impression stamped upon them by 
 the character of the individual, which, to be 
 seen, must be felt; for it is demonstrable, that 
 all character and expression, to be adequately 
 represented, must be perceived by the mind, and 
 not by the eye only. The French painters give 
 only lines and precise differences, the English, 
 only general masses and strong effects. Hence 
 the two nations reproach one another with the 
 difference of their styles of art,—the one as dry, 
 hard, and minute,—the other as gross, gothic, 
 and unfinished ; and they will probably remain 
 for ever satisfied with each other’s defects, as 
 they afford a very tolerable fund of consolation 
 on either side. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 217 
 
 That this inferiority in English art is not owing 
 to a deficiency of English genius, imagina¬ 
 tion, or passion, is proved sufficiently by the 
 works of our poets and dramatic writers, which 
 in loftiness and force are not surpassed by those 
 of any other nation. But whatever may be the 
 depth of internal thought and feeling in the 
 English character, it seems to be more internal; 
 and, whether this is owing to habit or physical 
 constitution, to have comparatively a less im¬ 
 mediate and powerful communication with the 
 organic expression of passion,—which exhibits 
 the thoughts and feelings in the countenance, 
 and furnishes matter for the historic muse of 
 painting. The English artist is instantly sen¬ 
 sible that the flutter, grimace, and extravagance 
 of the French physiognomy are incompatible with 
 high history; and we are at no loss to explain, 
 in this way, that is from the defect of living 
 models, that the productions of the French 
 school on the one hand are marked with all the 
 affectation of national caricature, or on the other 
 sink into tame and lifeless imitations of the 
 antique. May we not account satisfactorily for 
 the general defects of our own historic produc¬ 
 tions in a similar way—from a certain inertness 
 and constitutional phlegm, which does not habi¬ 
 tually impress the workings of the mind in 
 correspondent traces on the countenance, and 
 which may also render us less sensible of these 
 outward and visible signs of passion, even when 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 23 ? 
 
 from Hackney and Mile-end,—and let a jury 
 be empannelled to decide on the merits of 
 Raphael and-. The verdict will be in¬ 
 
 fallible. We remember having been formerly 
 a good deal amused with seeing a smart, hand- 
 some-looking Quaker lad, standing before a pic¬ 
 ture of Christ as the Saviour of the World, with 
 a circle of young female friends around him, and 
 a newspaper in his hand, out of which he read to 
 his admiring auditors a criticism on the picture, 
 ascribing to it every perfection, human or divine. 
 Now,-in truth, the colouring was anything but 
 solemn, the drawing anything but grand, the 
 expression anything but sublime. The friendly 
 critic had, however, bedaubed it so with praise 
 that it was not easy to gainsay its wondrous 
 excellence. In fact, one of the worst conse¬ 
 quences of the establishment of academies, &c., 
 is that the rank and station of the painter throw 
 a lustre round his pictures, which imposes com¬ 
 pletely on the herd of spectators, and makes 
 it a kind of treason against the art for any one 
 else to speak his mind freely, or detect the 
 imposture. If, indeed, the election to title and 
 academic honours went by merit, this might 
 form a kind of clue or standard for the public 
 to decide justly upon :—but we have heard that 
 genius and taste determine precedence there 
 almost as little as at Court; and that modesty 
 and talent stand very little chance indeed with 
 interest, cabal, impudence, and cunning. The 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 245 
 
 been, besides the grandeur of form, all the 
 minut'ue and individual details in the cast that 
 subsist in nature, and that find no place in the 
 theory of ideal art—in the omission of which, 
 indeed, its very grandeur is made to consist. 
 The Elgin Marbles give a flat contradiction to 
 this gratuitous separation of grandeur of design 
 and exactness of detail, as incompatible in works 
 of art, and we conceive that, with their whole 
 ponderous weight to crush it, it will be difficult 
 to set this theory on its legs again. In these 
 majestic colossal figures, nothing is omitted* 
 nothing is made out by negation. The veins, 
 the wrinkles in the skin, the indications of the 
 muscles under the skin (which appear as plainly 
 to the anatomist as the expert angler knows 
 from an undulation on the surface of the water 
 what fish is playing with his bait beneath it), 
 the finger-joints, the nails, every the smallest 
 part cognizable to the naked eye, is given here 
 with the same ease and exactness, with the same 
 prominence, and the same subordination, that 
 it would be in a cast from nature, i. e., in nature 
 itself. Therefore, so far these things, viz. nature, 
 a cast from it, and the Elgin Marbles, are the 
 same ; and all three are opposed to the fashion¬ 
 able and fastidious theory of the ideal. Look at 
 Sir Joshua’s picture of Puck, one of his finest- 
 coloured, and most spirited, performances. The 
 fingers are mere spuds, and we doubt whether 
 any one can make out whether there are four 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 293 
 
 this picture been transferred to the present col¬ 
 lection (or any picture like it) what a trail of 
 glory would it have left behind it ! for what a 
 length of way would it have haunted the imagin¬ 
 ation ! how often should we have wished to re¬ 
 visit it, and how fondly would the eye have 
 turned back to the stately tower of Fonthill 
 Abbey, that from the western horizon gives the 
 setting sun to other climes, as the beacon and 
 guide to the knowledge and the love of high 
 Art! 
 
 The Duke of Wellington, it is said, has de¬ 
 clared Fonthill to be “ the finest thing in Europe.” 
 If so, it is since the dispersion of the Louvre. It 
 is also said that the King is to visit it. We do 
 not mean to say it is not a fit place for the King 
 to visit, or for the Duke to praise : but we know 
 this, that it is a very bad one for us to describe. 
 The father of Mr. Christie was supposed to 
 be “ equally great on a ribbon or a Raphael.” 
 This is unfortunately not our case. We are not 
 “ great ” at all, but least of all in little things. 
 We have tried in various ways: we can make, 
 nothing of it. Look here—this is the Catalogue. 
 Now what can we say (who are not auctioneers’ 
 but critics) to 
 
 Six Japan heron-pattern embossed dishes; or. 
 
 Twelve burnt-in dishes in compartments ; or, 
 
 Sixteen ditto enamelled with insects and birds ; or, 
 
 Seven embossed soup-plates, with plants and rich bor¬ 
 ders ; or, 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 303 
 
 itself, and native achievements had called on 
 the powers of native sculpture to celebrate Bri¬ 
 tish heroes and patriots.” Does Mr. Flaxman 
 mean by this to insinuate that Britain had neither 
 patriots nor heroes to boast of till after the es¬ 
 tablishment of the Royal Academy and a little 
 before that of the professorship of sculpture ? 
 If so, we cannot agree with him. It would be 
 only a single step farther to assert that the study 
 of astronomy had not been much encouraged in 
 this country, till the discovery of the Georgium 
 Sidus was thought to call for it, and for the es¬ 
 tablishment of an observatory at Greenwich ! In 
 the next page, the lecturer remarks, “ Painting 
 is honoured with precedence, because design or 
 drawing is more particularly and exclusively 
 employed in illustration of history. Sculpture 
 immediately follows in the enumeration, because 
 the two arts possess the same common prin¬ 
 ciples, expressed by painting in colour, and by 
 Sculpture in form.” Surely there is here some con¬ 
 fusion, either in the thoughts or in the language. 
 First, painting takes precedence of sculpture, 
 because it illustrates history by design or form, 
 which is common to both; next sculpture comes 
 after painting, because it illustrates by form, 
 what painting does not illustrate by form, but 
 by colour. We cannot make any sense of this. 
 It is from repeated similar specimens that we 
 are induced to say that, when Mr. Flaxman rea¬ 
 sons, he reasons ill. 
 
310 
 
 FLAXMAN S LECTURES 
 
 discovery of Pythagoras’s problem, before he 
 could venture to detach the arms from the sides, 
 than it was for the Egyptians themselves to 
 remain swathed and swaddled up like mummies, 
 without the power of locomotion, till Pythagoras 
 came up with his geometrical diagram to set 
 their limbs at liberty. If they could do this 
 without a knowledge of mechanics, the sculptor 
 could not help seeing it, and imperfectly copying 
 it; if he had the use of his senses, or his wits 
 about him. The greater probability is that the 
 sepulchral statues were done from, or in imita¬ 
 tion of, the mummies ; or that, as the imitation 
 of the variety of gesture or motion is always the 
 most difficult, these stiff and monotonous posi¬ 
 tions were adopted (and subsequently adhered 
 to from custom) as the safest and easiest. 
 
 After briefly noticing the defects of the Hin¬ 
 doo and other early sculpture, the author pro¬ 
 ceeds to account for the improved practice of 
 the Greeks on the same formal and mechanical 
 principles. “ We find,” he says, “ upon these 
 authorities (Vitruvius and the elder Pliny), that 
 geometry and numbers were employed to ascer¬ 
 tain the powers of motion and proportions; 
 optics and perspective (as known to the ancients) 
 to regulate projections, hollows, keeping, dimi¬ 
 nution, curvatures, and general effects in figures, 
 groups, insulated or in relief, with accompani¬ 
 ments ; and anatomy, to represent the bones, 
 muscles, tendons, and veins, as they appear on 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 317 
 
 best times of Grecian sculpture, and the era of 
 Phidias and Praxiteles, dissections were rare, 
 and anatomy very imperfectly understood, and 
 cites “ the opinion of the learned Professor of 
 Anatomy, that the ancient artists owed much 
 more to the study of living than dead bodies.’’ 
 Sir Anthony Carlisle, aware of the deficiences of 
 former ages in this branch of knowledge, and 
 yet conscious that he himself would be greatly 
 puzzled to carve the Apollo or the Venus, very 
 naturally and wisely concludes that the latter 
 depends upon a course of study, and an acquaint¬ 
 ance with forms very different from any which 
 he possesses. It is a smattering and affectation 
 of science that leads men to suppose that it is 
 capable of more than it really is, and of supply¬ 
 ing the undefined and evanescent creations of 
 art with universal and infallible principles. 
 There cannot be an opinion more productive 
 of presumption and sloth. The same turn of 
 thought is insisted on in the fourth lecture on 
 Science-, nearly the whole of which, indeed, is 
 devoted to a fuller developement and exempli¬ 
 fication of what appears to us a servile prejudice, 
 though it would be unjust to Mr. Flaxman to 
 suppose and to insinuate that he is without a 
 better sense and better principles of art, when¬ 
 ever he trusted to his own feelings and expe¬ 
 rience, instead of being hood-winked by an idle 
 theory. 
 
 The Lecturer bestows due and eloquent praise 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Titl« of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 339 . 
 
 340. 
 
 341. 
 
 342. 
 
 343. 
 
 344. 
 
 345. 
 
 346. 
 
 347. 
 348) 
 349 J 
 
 350. 
 
 351. 
 
 352. 
 
 353. 
 
 354. 
 
 355. 
 
 356. 
 
 357. 
 
 358. 
 359- 
 
 360. 
 
 361. 
 
 362. 
 
 363. 
 
 364. 
 
 365. 
 
 366. 
 
 367 . 
 
 368. 
 
 369 . 
 
 3/0. 
 371 • 
 
 372. 
 
 373. 
 
 374. 
 
 375. 
 3761 
 377 ) 
 
 378. 
 
 379. 
 380) 
 381 J 
 
 382. 
 
 383. 
 
 384. 
 
 385. 
 
 386. 
 
 387. 
 
 388. 
 389- 
 
 390. 
 
 391. 
 
 392. 
 
 393. 
 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 Francis I. of France . 
 
 Erasmus . 
 
 The King of Bohemia . 
 
 The Children of the King of Bohemia 
 
 The Queen of Bohemia . 
 
 Portrait of the Aunt of the Emperor \ 
 
 Charles V...J 
 
 Countess of Derby. 
 
 Sir George Carew . 
 
 Portraits of Ladies. 
 
 I Holbein. 
 
 Holbein (a drawing) . 
 
 The Wife of Holbein (a drawing) .. .. 
 
 A medallion of Henry VIII. 
 
 James II., when young. 
 
 Whole-length Portrait of a Youth ) 
 
 unknown ./ 
 
 Prince Rupert, when a Boy. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 A Child, supposed to be Queen \ 
 
 Elizabeth .J 
 
 Duke of Gloucester. 
 
 Louis XIV. when young . 
 
 Portrait of Cornelius Ketel . 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 Portrait of a Youth... 
 
 Portrait of a Child . 
 
 Buildings in a Garden Scene . 
 
 A Landscape .. 
 
 St. Peter in Prison. 
 
 A Sorceress . 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 A Landscape, with Nymphs . 
 
 The Discovery of Calisto . 
 
 A Landscape, with Nymphs. 
 
 The Tribute Money . 
 
 Dead Game . 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery . 
 
 C. Janssen. 
 Poelemberg. 
 Janssen. 
 Cornelius. 
 
 L. de Heere. 
 Holbein. 
 
 Sir A. More. 
 
 Himself. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Torregiano. 
 
 Honthorst. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 My tens. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 Mignard. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 P. Perugino. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Steenwick. 
 
 Ferg. 
 
 Steenwick. 
 
 Elsheimer. 
 
 Paul Bril. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Brueghel. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Dietricy. 
 
 Van Aelst. 
 
 Dietricy. 
 
 Dead Game . Wee7iix. 
 
 A small whole-length of a Lady 
 
 A Hermit. 
 
 Youth and Age .. 
 
 Venus and Adonis . 
 
 Inside of a Farm House . 
 
 Lions in a Landscape . 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 A Man in Armour . 
 
 Mary Magdalen at the Tomb of) 
 
 Christ, ‘Touch me not”./ 
 
 St. Catherine reading . 
 
 A Sybil . 
 
 Moses Striking the Rock. 
 
 Infant Christ and St. John . 
 
 Cattle in a Landscape . 
 
 Fruit and Still Life. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Slingelandt. 
 
 Denner. 
 
 Gcnnari. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 B. Sftuery. 
 
 Vundervelde. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Correggio. 
 !P. Bordone. 
 
 I S. Rosa . 
 
 'L. da Vinci. 
 
 1 Vundervelde. 
 I Cuyp. 
 
XXVI 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 641. 
 
 The Crucifixion . 
 
 L. Van Leyden. 
 
 642. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 V. Mulu. 
 
 643. 
 
 The Resurrection of Christ . 
 
 L. Van Leyden. 
 
 644. 
 
 Thief on the Cross. 
 
 P . del Vaga. 
 
 643. 
 
 Peter in Prison . 
 
 Steenwick. 
 
 1 
 
 646. 
 
 THE CLOSET, NEAR THE CHAPEL. 
 
 An Italian Gentleman . 
 
 G. Pens. 
 
 647 . 
 
 An Italian Market . 
 
 Bamboccw. 
 
 648. 
 
 A Landscape ... 
 
 Lucutelli. 
 
 649. 
 
 Children with a Goat. 
 
 Amiconi. 
 
 650. 
 
 St. Paul . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 651. 
 
 An Italian Market . 
 
 Bumboccio. 
 
 652. 
 
 Jupiter and Europa . 
 
 [After] P. Veronese. 
 
 653. 
 
 Cupid and Psyche . 
 
 Lazzarini. 
 
 654. 
 
 George II . 
 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller . 
 
 655. 
 
 Portrait of a Man in a large ruff . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 656. 
 
 
 
 657. 
 
 658. 
 
 
 
 A 11 Act of Mercy . 
 
 [After] A. Caracci. 
 
 659. 
 
 Christ brought before Pilate . 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 660 ( 
 66l/ 
 
 Dutch Amusements . 
 
 C. F. Cepper. 
 
 662 4 
 to f 
 
 Heads (sketches) . 
 
 Tiepoli. 
 
 666 J 
 
 667 . 
 
 A Venetian Gentleman . 
 
 L. Bassano. 
 
 668. 
 
 THE PRIVATE DINING ROOM. 
 
 Colonel St. Leger . 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 609. 
 
 670 . 
 
 George IV . 
 
 Queen of James I . 
 
 Owen , after Hoppner. 
 Van Somer . 
 
 671 . 
 
 Christ Bearing his Cross . 
 
 Van Harp. 
 
 672 . 
 
 A Ruin, with Cattle at a Fountain .... 
 
 Rtos. 
 
 673. 
 
 David with Goliath’s Head . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 674 . 
 
 A Shepherd with a Pipe. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 675 . 
 
 Christ in the house of Mary and Martha 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 676 . 
 
 Venus and Cupid. 
 
 Pontormo. 
 
 677 . 
 
 A Labyrinth. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 678 . 
 
 Men Fighting with Bears . 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 679. 
 
 View on the Thames, near Whitehall ..1 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 680. 
 
 681. 
 
 Queen of George II . 
 
 The Stoning of St. Stephen . 
 
 Rothenhamer. 
 
 682. 
 
 Fisher, the Composer . 
 
 Gainsborough . 
 
 683. 
 
 Ruins, with a Vase . 
 
 Griffier. 
 
 684. 
 
 St. John . 
 
 L Spada. 
 
 685. 
 
 A Child with a Lamb . 
 
 Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 686. 
 
 A Virgin and Child . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 687- 
 
 A Landscape . 1 
 
 Edema. 
 
 688. 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 Van Deist . 
 
 6891 
 
 690J 
 
 Two Landscapes . 
 
 Dankers. 
 
 691 . 
 
 IN THE NEXT CLOSET ARE 
 
 Virgin and Child . 
 
 [After] Vandyck. 
 
 692 . 
 
 Virgin and Child... 
 
 [After] Vandyck. 
 
u 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Punted by 
 
 148. 
 
 149. 
 
 150. 
 
 151. 
 
 152. 
 
 153. 
 
 154. 
 
 155. 
 
 156. 
 
 157. 
 
 158. 
 
 159. 
 161 . 
 162 . 
 
 163. 
 
 164. 
 
 165. 
 
 166 . 
 
 167 . 
 
 168 . 
 
 169 . 
 
 170 . 
 
 171. 
 
 172. 
 
 173. 
 
 174. 
 
 175. 
 
 176 . 
 
 177. 
 
 178 . 
 
 179- 
 
 180. 
 
 181. 
 
 182. 
 
 183. 
 
 184. 
 
 185. 
 
 186. 
 187. 
 
 188. 
 
 189. 
 
 190. 
 
 191. 
 
 192. 
 
 193. 
 
 194. 
 
 GREEN DRESSING ROOM. 
 
 Battle-Piece. 
 
 Mr. Taylor, Master of Revels to 
 
 Charles I. 
 
 Family Group (name unknown ..... 
 
 Frost-Piece . 
 
 Landscape .. 
 
 Lady Knight . 
 
 Commercial Port. 
 
 Group of Cupids. 
 
 Spring Season. 
 
 A Martyrdom . 
 
 Girl’s School. 
 
 Summer . 
 
 Autumn . 
 
 Group of Cupids. 
 
 Winter. 
 
 Hagar and Ishmael. 
 
 sit ptpli 
 
 Old Man’s Head. *. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell. 
 
 Portrait of Himself . 
 
 Portrait of Himself.. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Peter Young. 
 
 Battle-Piece . 
 
 Lady Tilney Long. 
 
 Duke of Alva on Horseback. 
 
 Countess of Cumberland . 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Mary de Medicis. 
 
 Portrait of the Duke of Alva. 
 
 Hugtenburgh. 
 Cornelius Janssen. 
 Ter burgh. 
 
 Haver kemp. 
 
 Van Diest. 
 
 Cornelius Janssen. 
 Van Diest. 
 
 Cornelius Schut. 
 Bassan. 
 
 F. Louri. 
 
 C. F. Cypoe. 
 
 Bassan. 
 
 Cornelius Schut. 
 Bassan. 
 
 F. Mola. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 Walker. 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Mirevelt. 
 
 Borgognone. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Van Diest. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Diepenbeke. 
 
 GREEN BED-ROOM. 
 
 Charity .. 
 
 Miss Smith . 
 
 Colonel Davenant... 
 
 King William III. on Horseback .... 
 
 Countess of Chesterfield. 
 
 Countess of Monmouth. 
 
 Boy’s School . 
 
 Lady Forster . 
 
 Interior of a Church .. 
 
 Sir Francis Walsingham, with St. 
 
 George and Staff. J 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 Closterman . 
 Sir P. Lely. 
 Netscher. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 C. F. Cypoe. 
 Vandyck. 
 Van Cleve . 
 Van Somer. 
 
 CHINESE BED-ROOM. 
 
 Visct. Folkestone .1801. 
 
 Edward Bouverie .17*4/- 
 
 Honourable W. H. Bouverie- 1773. 
 
 Anne, Daughter of Sir William Bou- j 
 
 Edward des Bouverie, Son of Siri 
 
 Lawrence.•./ 
 
 Honourable Edward Bouverie.... 1773. 
 Hon. Bartholomew Bouverie ....1773* 
 
 Sir W. Beechey. 
 Hudson. 
 Gainsborough . 
 Kneller. 
 
 Mirevelt. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
Ixviii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Apollo flaying Marsyas.'I 
 
 Daphne and Apollo . 
 
 Hyacinthus and Apollo... )> 
 
 Two Boys supporting Stone-work. I 
 
 Morning chasing away Night. J 
 
 Venus and Cupid . 
 
 Three Goddesses sending Mercury to Paris.. 
 
 Holy Family (on copper). 
 
 St. Peter . 
 
 Virgin, Christ, and Joseph (on copper). 
 
 Finding of Moses . 
 
 Rinaldo and Armida. 
 
 Boy and Pigeon.. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 St. Paul. 
 
 Judgment of Paris (on copper) . 
 
 Christ in the Garden. 
 
 Christ Sleeping .. 
 
 Virgin and Child appearing to St. Dominic 
 
 (on copper) ./ 
 
 The Nativity .. 
 
 Child Jesus . 
 
 Head of St. John (a sketch). 
 
 Virgin and Child appearing to St. Clara .. 
 
 The Salutation (on copper). 
 
 Finding of Moses. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 St. John. 
 
 Return from Jerusalem. 
 
 St. Catherine . 
 
 The Samaritan Woman. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Christ and the Doctors in the Temple. 
 
 Finding of Moses. 
 
 Flight into Egypt . 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Another. 
 
 THE JEWEL CLOSET. 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine .{ 
 
 Virgin and Infant Christ. 
 
 Our Saviour blessing the Elements. 
 
 NEW STATE BED-ROOM, OR SECOND GEORGE 
 ROOM. 
 
 (The Ceiling represents various Classical^ 
 Subjects ; the Tapestry, designed by F. > 
 
 Albano) .J 
 
 Cleopatra Decorating Marc Antony’s Tomb 
 
 Angel and Child... 
 
 Small Landscape. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Penelope over the Body of Ulysses. 
 
 Agrippina landing at Brundusium, with T 
 
 the Ashes of Germanicus./ 
 
 Love Conquers Prudence. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Verrio . 
 
 Poussin, 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Schedone. 
 
 P. Veronese . 
 
 Passeri. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 A. Curacci. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Schedone. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Rothenhamer. 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Poussin . 
 
 Albano. 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Baccici. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 Calvart. 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Ferrari, after Raphael. 
 Andrea del Sarto. 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 Ferri. 
 
 A. Caracci . 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 L. Vanuden. 
 Schiavone. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 Schedone. 
 
 V. Castelli. 
 
 Parmegiano , after 
 Correggio . 
 
 C. Maratti, 
 
 C. Dolce. 
 
 Verrio . 
 
 Kauffman. 
 
 Peters. 
 
 Both. 
 
 Kauffman. 
 
 West. 
 
 Kauffman. 
 
VI 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 instance the most recent authority. A few 
 of these catalogues — those of the National 
 Gallery, of Hampton Court, of Windsor 
 Castle, and of Dulwich—are of course easily 
 accessible to any person, for a shilling or 
 two each ; but several of the other cata¬ 
 logues, which form so important a feature 
 in this volume, are not accessible at all 
 in the ordinary way. For the catalogue 
 of the Gallery at Longford Castle, or 
 instance, exhibiting the exact position of 
 the pictures as they are now hung, I am 
 indebted to the active courtesy of the Earl 
 of Radnor and his son Lord Folkestone, 
 the latter of whom most kindly drew up 
 for me the catalogue here printed. In the 
 second volume of Hazlitt on Art, I shall 
 be able to complete my collection of ca¬ 
 talogues ; and, amongst other valuable 
 additions, it will be in my power, by the 
 condescending liberality of the Duke of 
 Sutherland, to present the public with a 
 catalogue of the admirable collection of 
 Stafford House, as now arranged. 
 
<2 
 
 MR. ANGERSTEIn’s COLLECTION. 
 
 feel no sense of littleness : the attention is never 
 distracted for a moment, but concentrated on 
 a few pictures of first-rate excellence. Many 
 of these chefs-d' oeuvre might occupy the spec¬ 
 tator for a whole morning 5 yet they do not 
 interfere with the pleasure derived from each 
 other—so much consistency of style is there in 
 the midst of variety! 
 
 We know of no greater treat than to be ad¬ 
 mitted freely to a Collection of this sort, where 
 the mind reposes with full confidence in its 
 feelings of admiration, and finds that idea and 
 love of conceivable beauty, which it has cherish¬ 
 ed perhaps for a whole life, reflected from every 
 object around it. It is a cure (for the time at 
 least) for low-thoughted cares and uneasy pas¬ 
 sions. We are abstracted to another sphere: 
 Ave breathe empyrean air; Ave enter into the 
 minds of Raphael, of Titian, of Poussin, of the 
 Caracci, and look at nature Avith their eyesj 
 Ave live in time past, and seem identified with 
 the permanent forms of things. The business of 
 the Avorld at large, and its pleasures, appear like 
 a vanity and an impertinence. What signify 
 the hubbub, the shifting scenery, the fantoccini 
 figures, the folly, the idle fashions Avithout, Avhen 
 compared with the solitude, the silence, the 
 speaking looks, the unhiding forms within ?— 
 Here is the mind’s true home. The contempla¬ 
 tion of truth and beauty is the proper object for 
 which we were created, which calls forth the most 
 
marquis of Stafford’s gallery. 41 
 
 And lo! over the clear lone brow of Tuderley 
 and Norman Court, knit into the web and fibres 
 of our heart, the sighing grove waves in the 
 autumnal air, deserted by Love, by Hope, but 
 for ever haunted by Memory! And there that 
 fine passage stands in Antony and Cleopatra 
 as we read it long ago with exulting eyes in 
 Paris, after puzzling over a tragedy of Racine’s, 
 and cried aloud : “ Our Shakspeare was also 
 a poet! ” These feelings are dear to us at 
 the time; and they come back unimpaired, 
 heightened, mellowed, whenever we choose to 
 go back to them. We turn over the leaf and 
 “volume of the brain,” and there see them face 
 to face.—Marina in Pericles complains that 
 
 Life is as a storm hurrying her from her friends ! 
 
 Not so from the friends above-mentioned. If 
 we bring but an eye, an understanding, and a 
 heart to them, we find them always with us, 
 always the same. The change, if there is one, is 
 in us, not in them. Ch! thou then, whoever 
 thou art, that dost seek happiness in’ thyself, 
 independent of others, not subject to caprice, 
 not mocked by insult, not snatched away by 
 ruthless hands, over which Time has no power, 
 and that Death alone cancels, seek it (if thou 
 art wise) in books, in pictures, and the face of 
 nature, for these alone we may count upon as 
 friends for life! While we are true to our¬ 
 selves, they will not be faithless to us. While 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 69 
 
 might serve as a test of a real taste for the art, 
 depending for their value on intrinsic qualities, 
 and not on imposing subjects, or mechanical 
 arrangement or quantity. As where “the still 
 small voice of reason ” is wanting, we judge of 
 actions by noisy success and popularity; so 
 where there is no true moral sense in art, no¬ 
 thing goes down hut pomp, and bustle, and pre¬ 
 tension. The eye of taste looks to see if a work 
 has nature’s finest image and superscription 
 upon it, and for no other title and passport to 
 fame. There is a Young Man’s Head (we be¬ 
 lieve in one corner of this room), by Holbein 
 [114], in which we can read high and heroic 
 thoughts and resolutions better than in any 
 Continence of Scipio we ever saw, or than in all 
 the Battles of Alexander thrown into a lump.* 
 There is a Portrait of Erasmus [57], by the 
 same, and in the same or an adjoining room, in 
 which we see into the mind of a scholar and of 
 an amiable man, as through a window. There 
 is a Head byParmegiano [60], lofty, triumphant,, 
 showing the spirit of another age and clime— 
 one by Raphael, studious and self-involvedf— 
 another, said to be by Leonardo da Vinci (but 
 more like Holbein) grown crabbed with age and 
 thought—and a girl reading, by Correggio, in- 
 
 * The picture in question is only a copy from Holbein, 
 by George Pentz, of Nuremberg. 
 
 t There is no Head, by Raphael, at Windsor. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 75 
 
 drawn figures in the group, but they are eclipsed 
 in the superior splendour of this one. So far 
 the composition is faulty, for its balance is de¬ 
 stroyed ; and there are certain critics who could 
 probably maintain that the picture would be 
 better if this capital excellence in it had been 
 deliberately left out: the picture would, indeed, 
 have been more according to rule, and to the 
 taste of those who judge, feel, and see by rule 
 only ! 
 
 Among the portraits which are curious, is 
 one of Bacciu Bandinelli * [59], with his em¬ 
 blems and implements of sculpture about him, 
 said to be by Correggio. We cannot pretend 
 to give an opinion on this point; but it is a 
 studious, powerful, and elaborately painted head. 
 We find the name of Titian attached to two or 
 three portraits in the Collection. There is one 
 very fine one of a young man in black, with a 
 black head of hair, the face seen in a three- 
 quarter view, and the dark piercing eye, full of 
 subtle meaning, looking round at you; which is 
 probably by Titian, but certainly not (as it is 
 pretended) of himself, f It has not the aquiline 
 cast of features by which his own portraits are 
 
 * Mrs. Jameson, however, observes that it hears no 
 resemblance to the best authenticated portraits of this 
 eminent sculptor. 
 
 t There are five portraits by Titian at Hampton Court. 
 Nos. 38, 70, 100, 101, and 397. The one referred to is 
 No. 100 or 101. 
 
104 
 
 PICTURES AT WILTON. 
 
 intrude out of an impertinent curiosity to see 
 their houses and furniture, without having a just 
 value for them as objects of art ? Or is the 
 expense of keeping servants to shew the apart¬ 
 ments made the plea of this churlish, narrow 
 system ? The public are ready enough to pay 
 servants for their attendance, and those persons 
 are quite as forward to do this who make a 
 pilgrimage to such places on foot as those who 
 approach them in a post-chaise or on horseback 
 with a livery-servant, which, it seems, is the 
 prescribed and fashionable etiquette ! Whatever 
 is the cause, we are sorry for it; more parti¬ 
 cularly as it compels us to speak of these two 
 admired Collections from memory only. It is 
 several years since we saw them ; but there are 
 some impressions of this sort that are proof 
 against time. 
 
 Lord Radnor has the two famous Claudes, 
 the Morning and Evening of the Roman Empire. 
 Though as landscapes they are neither so bril¬ 
 liant, nor finished, nor varied, as some of this 
 artist’s works, there is a weight and concentration 
 of historic feeling about them which many of 
 his allegorical productions want. In the first, 
 half-finished buildings and massy columns rise 
 amidst the dawning effulgence that is streaked 
 with rims of inextinguishable light; and a noble 
 tree in the foreground, ample, luxuriant, hangs 
 and broods over the growing design. There is 
 a dim mistiness spread over the scene, as in the 
 
PICTURES AT WILTON. 
 
 107 
 
 Pembroke, who “ keep their state” raised some¬ 
 what above the other" groups ;—the one a lively 
 old gentleman, who seems as if he could once 
 have whispered a flattering tale in a fair lady’s 
 ear; his help-mate looking a little fat and sulky 
 by his side, probably calculating the expense of 
 the picture, and not well understanding the event 
 of it—there are the daughters, pretty, well- 
 dressed, elegant girls, but somewhat insipid, 
 sentimental, and vacant—then there are the two 
 eldest sons, that might be said to have walked 
 out of Mr. Burke’s description of the age of 
 chivalry ; the one a perfect courtier, a carpet- 
 knight, smooth-faced, handsome, almost effemi¬ 
 nate, that seems to have moved all his life to 
 “ the mood of lutes and soft recorders,” decked 
 in silks and embroidery, like the tender flower 
 issuing from its glossy folds ; the other the gal¬ 
 lant soldier, shrewd, bold, hardy, with spurred 
 heel and tawny buskins, ready to “ mount on 
 barbed steeds, and witch the world with noble 
 horsemanship”—-down to the untutored, carroty¬ 
 headed boy, the Goose - Gibbxe of the piece, who 
 appears to have been just dragged from the 
 farm-yard to sit for his picture, and stares about 
 him in as great a heat and fright as if he had 
 dropped from the clouds : — all in this admirable, 
 living composition is in its place, in keeping, and 
 bears the stamp of the age and of the master’s 
 hand. Even the oak-pannels have an elaborate, 
 antiquated look, and the furniture has an aspect 
 
114 
 
 PICTURES AT PETWORTH. 
 
 same day. The rest of the Collection consists 
 (for the most part) of staircase and family pictures. 
 But there are some admirable statues to be seen 
 here, that it would ask a morning’s leisure to study 
 properly. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. ' 175 
 
 merely learned and anatomical: he has a know¬ 
 ledge of the structure and measurements of the 
 human body, but very little feeling of the grand, 
 or beautiful, or striking in form. 
 
 All Rubens’ forms have ease, freedom, and 
 excessive elasticity. In the grotesque style of 
 history, as in groups of satyrs, nymphs, bac¬ 
 chanals, and animals, where striking contrasts 
 of form are combined with every kind of rapid 
 and irregular movement, he has not a rival. 
 Witness his Silenus at Blenheim, where the lines 
 seem drunk and staggering; and his Procession 
 cf Cupids riding on Animals at Whitehall, with 
 that adventurous leader of the infantine crew, 
 who, with a spear, is urging a lion, on which he 
 is mounted, over the edge of the world : for 
 beyond we only see a precipice of clouds and 
 sky. Rubens’ power of expressing motion, 
 perhaps, arose from the facility of his pencil, 
 and his habitually trusting a good deal to 
 memory and imagination in his compositions; 
 for this quality can be given in no other way. 
 His portraits are the least valuable productions 
 of his pencil. His landscapes are often delight¬ 
 ful, and appear like the work of fairy hands. 
 
 It remains to speak of Vandyke and Rem¬ 
 brandt ; the one the disciple of Rubens, the 
 other the entire founder of his own school. It 
 is not possible for two painters to be more 
 opposite. The characteristic merits of the for¬ 
 mer are very happily summed up in a single 
 
186 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 appear at an immeasurable distance below; the 
 boat diminished to 
 
 “ A buoy almost too small for sight.” 
 
 A View of Ancona, Adrian s Villa at Rome, a 
 small blue greenish landscape ; The Lake of 
 Neuni, a small richly coloured landscape of the 
 banks of a river ; and a landscape containing 
 some light and elegant groups of trees, are mas¬ 
 terly and interesting sketches. A View on the 
 Tiber, near Rome; a dark landscape which lies 
 finely open to the sky; and A View of Rome, are 
 successful imitations of N. Poussin. A View of 
 Sion House, which is hung almost out of sight, 
 is remarkable for the clearness of the perspective, 
 particularly in the distant windings of the River 
 Thames, and still more so for the parched 
 and droughty appearance of the whole scene. 
 The air is adust, the grass burned up and 
 withered; and it seems as if some figures, re¬ 
 posing on the level smooth-shaven lawn, on the 
 river’s side, would be annoyed by the parching 
 heat of the ground. We consider this landscape, 
 which is an old favourite, as one of the most 
 striking proofs of Wilson’s genius, as it conveys 
 not only the image, but the feeling, of nature, 
 and excites a new interest unborrowed from the 
 eye, like the fine glow of a summer’s day. There 
 is a sketch of the same subject, called A View 
 on the Thames. A View near Llangollen, North 
 Wales; Oakhampton Castle, Devonshire; and The 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 189 
 
 the scene and story represented. They neither 
 display true taste nor fine imagination, but are 
 affected and violent exaggerations of clumsy 
 common nature. They are made up mechanically 
 of the same stock of materials, an overhanging 
 rock,bare shattered trees,black rolling clouds, and 
 forked lightning. The scene of Celadon Sf Amelia, 
 though it may be proper for a thunder-storm, is 
 not a place for lovers to walk in. The Meleager Sf 
 Atalanta is remarkable for nothing but a castle at 
 a distance, very much “ resembling a goose-pie.’' 
 The figures in the most celebrated of these are 
 not, like the children of Niobe, punished by the 
 gods, but like a group of rustics crouching from 
 a hail storm. I agree with Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 that Wilson’s mind was not, like N. Poussin’s, 
 sufficiently imbued with the knowledge of an¬ 
 tiquity to transport the imagination three thou¬ 
 sand years back, to give natural objects a sym¬ 
 pathy with preternatural events, and to inform 
 rocks, and trees, and mountains, with the pre¬ 
 sence of a God, but nevertheless, his landscapes 
 will ever afford a high treat to the lover of the 
 art. In all that relates to the gradation of tint, 
 to the graceful conduct and proportions of light 
 and shade, and to the fine, deep, and harmonious 
 tones of nature, they are models for the student. 
 In his Italian landscapes his eye seems almost 
 to have drunk in the light. 
 
 To sum up this general character, I may ob¬ 
 serve that, besides his excellence in aerial per- 
 
194 
 
 ON THE FJNE ARTS. 
 
 at present, on his fancy pieces, cottage children, 
 shepherd boys, &c. These have often great 
 truth, great sweetness, and the subjects are 
 generally chosen with great felicity. We too 
 often find, however, in his happiest efforts, a 
 consciousness in the turn of the limbs, and a 
 
 sky, with a dash of the wildness of Salvator Rosa; and 
 also with A Bank of a River, which is remarkable for the 
 elegance of the forms, and the real delicacy of the exe¬ 
 cution. A Groupe of Cattle in a Warm Landscape, is 
 an evident imitation of Rubens, but no more like to 
 Rubens than I to Hercules. Landscape with a Water¬ 
 fall should be noticed for the sparkling clearness of the 
 distance. Sportsmen in a Landscape is copied from 
 Teniers with much taste and feeling, though very inferior 
 to the original picture, in Lord Radnor’s collection. 
 
 Of the fancy pictures, on which Gainsborough’s fame 
 chiefly rests, we are disposed to give the preference to his 
 Cottage Children. There is, we apprehend, greater truth, 
 variety, force, and character, in this groupe than in any 
 other. The colouring of the light-haired child is par¬ 
 ticularly true to nature, and forms a sort of natural and 
 innocent contrast to the dark complexion of the elder 
 sister, who is carrying it. The Girl going to the Well is, 
 however, the general favourite. The little dog is cer¬ 
 tainly admirable; his hair looks as if it had been just 
 washed and combed. The attitude of the girl is also per¬ 
 fectly easy and natural. But there is a consciousness in 
 the turn of the head, and a sentimental pensiveness in 
 the expression, which is not taken from nature, but 
 intended as an improvement on it! There is a regular 
 insipidity, a systematic vacancy, a round, unvaried 
 smoothness, to which real nature is a stranger, and which 
 is only an idea existing in the painter’s mind .—Morning 
 Chronicle, 1814. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 201 
 
 lived; and he had, therefore, all the stimulus to 
 exertion which arose from the enthusiastic ap¬ 
 plause of his contemporaries, and from a desire 
 to expand and refine the taste of the public. 
 
 To an eye for colour, and for effects of light 
 and shade. Sir Joshua united a strong perception 
 of individual character, a lively feeling of the 
 quaint and grotesque in expression, and great 
 mastery of execution. He had comparatively 
 little knowledge of drawing, either as it regarded 
 proportion or form. The beauty of some of his 
 female faces and figures arises almost entirely 
 from their softness and fleshiness. His pencil 
 wanted firmness and precision. The expression, 
 even of his best portraits, seldom implies either 
 lofty or impassioned intellect or delicate sensi¬ 
 bility. He also wanted grace, if grace requires 
 simplicity. The mere negation of stiffness and 
 formality is not grace j for looseness and dis¬ 
 tortion are not grace. His favourite attitudes 
 are not easy and natural, but the affectation of 
 ease and nature. They are violent deviations 
 from a right line. Many of the figures in his 
 fancy pieces are placed in postures in which they 
 could not remain for an instant without extreme 
 difficulty and awkwardness. I may instance the 
 Girl Drawing with a Pencil, and some others. 
 His portraits are his best pictures, and of these 
 his portraits of men are the best; his pictures of 
 children are the next in value. He had fine 
 subjects for the former, from the masculine sense 
 
216 
 
 ON TUB FINE ARTS. 
 
 “as if some of nature’s journeymen had made 
 them, and not made them well.’’ But we still 
 want a Prometheus to give life to the cumbrous 
 mass,—to throw an intellectual light over the 
 opaque image,—to embody the inmost refine¬ 
 ments of thought to the outward eye,—to lay 
 bare the very soul of passion. That picture is 
 of little comparative value which can be com¬ 
 pletely translated into another language,—of 
 which the description in a common catalogue 
 conveys all that is expressed by the picture itself; 
 for it is the excellence of every art to give what 
 can be given by no other in the same degree. 
 Much less is that picture to be esteemed which 
 only injures and defaces the idea already existing 
 in the mind’s eye; which does not come up to 
 the conception which the imagination forms of 
 the subject, and substitutes a dull reality for 
 high sentiment; for the art is in this case an 
 encumbrance, not an assistance, and interferes 
 with, instead of adding to, the stock of our 
 pleasurable sensations. But I should be at a 
 loss to point out, I will not say any English 
 picture, but certainly any English painter, who, 
 in heroic-al and classical composition, has risen 
 to the height of his subject, and answered the 
 expectations of the well-informed spectator, or 
 excited the same impression by visible means as 
 had been excited by words or by reflection.* 
 
 * If I were to make any qualification of this censure, 
 it would be in favour of some of Northcote’s compositions 
 from early English history. 
 
ON 
 
 THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 -<S>- 
 
 Who to the life an exact piece would make, 
 
 Must not from others’ work a copy take; 
 
 No, not from Rubens or Vandyke : 
 
 Much less content himself to make it like 
 Tk’ ideas and the images which lie 
 In his own Fancy or his Memory. 
 
 No : he before his sight must place 
 The natural and living face ; 
 
 The real object must command 
 
 Each judgment of his eye and motion of his hand. 
 
 The true lesson to be learnt by our students 
 and professors from the Elgin marbles is the 
 one which the ingenious and honest Cowley 
 has expressed in the above spirited lines. The 
 great secret is to recur at every step to nature— 
 
 -To learn 
 
 Her manner, and with rapture taste her style. 
 
 It is evident to any one who views these 
 admirable remains of Antiquity (nay, it is ac¬ 
 knowledged by our artists themselves, in despite 
 
248 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 varies, as it necessarily must do in conformity 
 to the law of gravitation, to which all bodies are 
 subject. In this respect, a cast from nature 
 would be the same. Chantrey once made a 
 cast from Wilson the Black. He put him into 
 an attitude at first, and made the east, but not 
 liking the effect when done, got him to sit again, 
 and made use of the plaster of Paris once more. 
 He was satisfied with the result; but Wilson, 
 who was tired with going through the operation, 
 as soon as it was over, went and leaned upon a 
 block of marble with his hands covering his face. 
 The sagacious sculptor was so struck with the 
 superiority of this natural attitude over those into 
 which he had been arbitrarily put that he begged 
 him (if possible) to continue in it for another 
 quarter of an hour, and another impression was 
 taken otT. All three casts remain, and the last is 
 a proof of the superiority of nature over art. 
 The effect of lassitude is visible in every part of 
 the frame, and the strong feeling of this affection, 
 impressed on every limb and muscle, and vent¬ 
 ing itself naturally in an involuntary attitude 
 which gave immediate relief, is that which strikes 
 every one who has seen this fine study from the 
 life. The casts from this man’s figure have 
 been much admired: — it is from no superi¬ 
 ority of form: it is merely that, being taken 
 Irom nature, they bear her “ image and super¬ 
 scription.” 
 
 As to expression, the Elgin Marbles (at least 
 
256 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 parts of it with their inflections which no artist 
 can carry in his head alone ? For instance, in 
 the bronze monument of Henry VII. and his 
 wife, in Westminster Abbey, by the famous Tor- 
 regiano, the fingers and finger nails of the woman 
 in particular are made out as minutely, and, at 
 the same time, as beautifully, as it is possible to 
 conceive; yet they have exactly the effect that 
 a cast taken from a fine female hand would have, 
 with every natural joint, muscle, and nerve, in 
 complete preservation. Does this take from the 
 beauty or magnificence of the whole ? No : it 
 aggrandizes it. What then does it take from ? 
 Nothing but the conceit of the artist that he can 
 paint a hand out of his own head (that is, out of 
 nothing, and by reducing it again as near as can 
 be to nothing, to a mere vague image) that shall 
 be better than any thing in nature. A hand, or 
 foot, is not one thing, because it is one word or 
 name ; and the painter of mere abstractions had 
 better lay down his pencil at once, and be con¬ 
 tented to write the descriptions or titles under 
 works of art. 
 
 Lastly, it may be objected that a whole 
 figure can never be found perfect or equal; 
 that the most beautiful arm will not belong to 
 the same figure as the most beautiful leg, and 
 so on. How is this to be remedied ? By taking 
 the arm from one, and the leg from the other, 
 and clapping them both on the same body 1 
 That will never do; for however admirable in 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 265 
 
 in itself, or with reference to individuals, it 
 is a mere tissue of meanness and deformity. 
 Luckily, the Elgin Marbles say No to that con¬ 
 clusion : for they are decidedly part and parcel 
 thereof. What constitutes fine nature we shall 
 enquire under another head. But we would 
 remark here, that it can hardly be the middle 
 form, since this principle, however it might 
 determine certain general proportions and out¬ 
 lines, could never be intelligible in the details 
 of nature, or applicable to those of art. Who 
 will say that the form of a finger nail is just 
 midway between a thousand others that he 
 has not remarked : we are only struck with it 
 when it is more than ordinarily beautiful, from 
 symmetry, an oblong shape, &c. The staunch 
 partisans of this theory, however, get over the 
 difficulty here spoken of, in practice, by omitting 
 the details altogether, and making their works 
 sketches, or rather what the French call dbauches, 
 and the English daubs. 
 
 3. The Ideal is only the selecting of a particular 
 form which expresses most completely the idea of 
 a given character or quality, as of beauty, strength, 
 activity, voluptuousness, fyc., and which preserves 
 that character with the greatest consistency 
 throughout. 
 
 Instead of its being true in general that the 
 ideal is the middle point, it is to be found in the 
 extremes; or, it is carrying any idea as far it will 
 go. Thus, for instance, a Silenus is as much 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 267 
 
 and gives a body, force, and reality to the idea 
 in the mind, then it is that we see the true 
 perfection of art. The forehead should be “ vil¬ 
 lainous low;” the eye-brows bent in; the eyes 
 small and gloating ; the nose pugged, and pointed 
 at the end, with distended nostrils; the mouth 
 large and shut; the cheeks swollen ; the neck 
 thick, &c. There is, in all this process, nothing 
 of softening down, of compromising qualities, of 
 finding out a mean proportion between different 
 forms and characters; the sole object is to in¬ 
 tensify each as much as possible. The only feai 
 is “ to o’erstep the modesty of nature,” and run 
 into caricature. This must be avoided ; but the 
 artist is only to stop short of this. He must not 
 outrage probability. We must have seen a class 
 of such faces, or something so nearly approach¬ 
 ing-as to prevent the imagination from revolt¬ 
 ing against them. The forehead must be low, 
 but not so low as to lose the character of hu¬ 
 manity in the brute. It would thus lose all its 
 force and meaning. For that which is extreme 
 and ideal in one species is nothing, if, by being 
 pushed too far, it is merged in another. Above 
 all, there should be keeping in the whole and 
 every part. In the Pan, the horns and goat’s 
 feet, perhaps, warrant the approach to a more 
 animal expression than would otherwise be 
 allowable in the human features ; but yet this 
 tendency to excess must be restrained within 
 certain limits. If Pan is made into a beast, he 
 
*272 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 another, as there is in the Elgin Marbles. If 
 you pull the string of a bow, the bow itself is 
 bent. So it is in the strings and wires that move 
 the human frame. The action of any one part, 
 the contraction or relaxation of any one muscle, 
 extends more or less perceptibly to every other : 
 
 Thrills in each nerve, and lives along the line. 
 
 Thus the celebrated Io of Correggio is imbued, 
 steeped, in a manner, in the same voluptuous feel¬ 
 ing all over—the same passion languishes in her 
 whole frame, and communicates the infection to 
 the feet, the back, and the reclined position of 
 the head. This is history, not carpenter’s work. 
 Some painters fancy that they paint history, if 
 they get the measurement from the foot to the 
 knee, and put four bones where there are 
 four bones. This is not our idea of it 5 but 
 we think it is to show how one part of the 
 body sways another in action and in passion. 
 The last relates chiefly to the expression of 
 the face, though not altogether. Passion may 
 be shown in a clenched fist as well as in 
 clenched teeth. The face, however, is the 
 throne of expression. Character implies the 
 feeling, which is fixed and permanent; expres¬ 
 sion that which is occasional and momentary, at 
 least, technically speaking. Portrait treats of 
 objects as they are; history of the events and 
 changes to which they are liable. And so far 
 history has a double superiority, or a double 
 
282 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 to do with the shape of the thing moved. The 
 one may be a circle and the other a square. 
 Little and deformed people seem to be well aware 
 of this distinction, who, in spite of their unpro¬ 
 mising appearance, usually assume the most im¬ 
 posing attitudes, and give themselves the most 
 extraordinary airs imaginable. 
 
 8 . Grandeur of motion is unity of motion. 
 
 This principle hardly needs illustration. Awk¬ 
 wardness is contradictory or disjointed motion. 
 
 9. Strength in art is giving the extremes, soft¬ 
 ness the uniting them. 
 
 There is no incompatibility between strength 
 and softness, as is sometimes supposed by fri¬ 
 volous people. Weakness is not refinement. A 
 shadow maybe twice as deep in a finely coloured 
 picture as in another, and yet almost imper¬ 
 ceptible, from the gradations that lead to it, and 
 blend it with the light. Correggio had prodi¬ 
 gious strength and greater softness. Nature is 
 strong and soft, beyond the reach of art to imi¬ 
 tate. Softness, then, does not imply the absence 
 of considerable extremes, but it is interposing 
 a third thing between them, to break the force of 
 the contrast. Guido is more soft than strong. 
 Rembrandt is more strong than soft. 
 
 10 . And lastly. That truth is, to a certain de¬ 
 gree, beauty and grandeur, since all things are con¬ 
 nected, and all things modify one another in nature. 
 Simplicity is also grand and beautiful for the same 
 reason. Elegance is ease and lightness, with precision. 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 301 
 
 instruction and amusement. Otherwise, the body 
 of ancient or of modern art is like the loadstone, 
 to which the soul vibrates, responsive, however 
 cold or repulsive the form in which it appears. 
 We have, however, a more serious fault to object 
 to the present work than the mere defects of 
 style, or mode of composition. It is with con¬ 
 siderable regret and reluctance we confess that, 
 though it may add to the students’ knowledge of 
 the art, it will contribute little to the understand¬ 
 ing of it. It abounds in rules rather than prin¬ 
 ciples. The examples, authorities, precepts, are 
 full, just, and well-selected. The terms of art 
 are unexceptionably applied ; the different styles 
 very properly designated ; the mean is distin¬ 
 guished from the lofty; due praise is bestowed 
 on the graceful, the grand, the beautiful, the 
 ideal; hut the reader comprehends no more of 
 the meaning of these qualities at the end of the 
 work than he did at the beginning. The tone 
 of the lectures is dogmatical rather than philo¬ 
 sophical. The judgment for the most part is 
 sound, though no new light is thrown on the 
 grounds on which it rests. Mr. Flaxman is 
 contented to take up with traditional maxims, 
 with adjudged cases, with the acknowledged 
 theory and practice of art: and it is well that 
 he does so; for when he departs from the ha¬ 
 bitual bias of his mind, and attempts to enter 
 into an explanation or defence of first principles, 
 the reasons which he advances are often weak, 
 
LONGFORD CASTLE. 
 
 lix 
 
 Till* ol Picture. 
 
 112 . 
 
 113 . 
 
 114 . 
 
 115 . 
 
 116. 
 
 117 . 
 
 A Cardinal. 
 
 Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.... 
 Tobias anointing Tobit’s Eye 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Queen Mary. 
 
 113 . 
 
 119 - 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123 . 
 
 124 . 
 
 125 . 
 
 126. 
 12 /. 
 
 128 . 
 
 129 . 
 
 130 . 
 
 131 . 
 
 132 . 
 
 133 . 
 
 135 . 
 
 GALLERY. 
 
 Magdalen. 
 
 Nathan pointing to David “ Thou art l 
 
 the Man ”.j 
 
 Sun Rising on the Bay of Naples, 
 the Allegorical Morning of the Ro 
 
 man Empire. 
 
 The Escurial (Landscape) 
 
 The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian by 
 command of the Emperor Diode 
 
 sian .. 
 
 Worship of The Golden Calf 
 
 Venus disarming Cupid. 
 
 Passage of the Red Sea. 
 
 Jupiter and Europa. 
 
 Two full-length Figures, with table - '! 
 covered with all sorts of instru- I 
 ments — Subject and the Portraits f 
 
 unknown .J 
 
 Sun setting — with Roman Ruins— 
 The Allegorical Evening of the Ro 
 
 man Empire. 
 
 Christ crowned with thorns 
 
 The Salutation.... 
 
 Adrian Pulidoporeja (Spanish Ad 
 
 miral). 
 
 Joseph’s Dream . 
 
 Portrait, full-length, with Hand rest-1 
 ing on a Helmet, name unknown.. / 
 Rubens on a Horse given him by l 
 
 Vandyck. J 
 
 \ Gaston, Duke of Orleans. 
 
 ian by ^ 
 Jioele- > 
 
 
 
 GREEN VELVET ROOM. 
 
 136 . 
 
 137 . 
 
 138 . 
 
 139 . 
 
 140 . 
 
 141 . 
 
 145 . 
 
 146 . 
 
 147 . 
 
 Portrait of a Female. 
 
 The Painter’s Boy. 
 
 The Due de Valentinois... 
 
 Virgin and Child, St. John and two "! 
 
 other Figures ./ 
 
 Portrait (said to be, but very doubt- \ 
 
 ful) of Martin Luther./ 
 
 Virgin, Child, and St. John. 
 
 Titian’s Mistress .. 
 
 Portrait of a Sculptor with his right 1 
 
 hand on a Bust . J 
 
 Portrait of Juan di Parigi(his Moorish ■» 
 Slave). J 
 
 fOf thin admirable work, the story rnns, that it w*a 
 the Picture tent to Philip EV. of Spain to show him 
 ' What Velaiqaet could do.”] 
 
 Painted by 
 
 C Janssen. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Spagnuletto. 
 
 Mabuse. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 Net sc her. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Claude Lorraine. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Michael Angelo and 
 Sebastian del Piombo. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 N. Poussin . 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Holbein* 
 
 Claude Lorraine. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Francesco Penni . 
 Velasquez. 
 
 Pietro da Cortona . 
 Titian. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 A. del Sarto . 
 Holbein ♦ 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 Giorgione . 
 
 Titian. 
 Velasquez. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Isiv 
 
 Title ef Pictnre. 
 
 Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland. 
 
 Henry, Tenth Earl and First Marquess of| 
 Exeter, Countess Sarah, and Lady Sophia > 
 Cecil .J 
 
 [This is the Nobleman, an account of whose marriage is 
 given in a former page of the present Volume The Lady died 
 m 1797, leaving two Sous and a Daughter; her Husband fol¬ 
 lowed her in 16(M, aged SO 1 
 
 Lucy. Duchess of Montrose, a copy. 
 
 Annabella, First Wife of the Sixth Earl of •> 
 
 Exeter . j 
 
 John, Seventh Earl of Exeter. 
 
 John, Fourth Earl of Exeter, and Frances, ”1 
 
 his First Wife./ 
 
 William Christopher, Esq., Husband of \ 
 Lady Eliz. Cecil./ 
 
 BOW-WINDOW, OR BALL-ROOM. 
 
 The Planetary System . 
 
 Cupids in Armour . 
 
 Antony and Cleooatra . 
 
 Battle of Cannie. 
 
 Cleopatra and her Women drawing up ”1 
 
 Antony to her Window ./ 
 
 The Death of Cleopatra. 
 
 The Continence of Scipio. 
 
 Celestial Globe, &c. 
 
 BROWN DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 Lady Dorothea Neviil (Wife of First Earl "l 
 
 of Exeter). i 
 
 Mademoiselle de la Valliert* . 
 
 A Study. 
 
 Edward VI. 
 
 Virgin ; Child, and Angel. 
 
 Elisha and the Widow.. 
 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and Angels . 
 
 Narcissus. 
 
 Ferdinand Alvares, Duke of Alva. 
 
 Thomas, First Earl of Exeter (eldest Son ”1 
 
 of the Lord Treasurer Burleigh).J 
 
 Coriolanus and the Roman Matrons. 
 
 David with Goliath’s Head. 
 
 Tullia driving over the body of her Father .. 
 
 Landscape ... 
 
 Marcus Curtius . 
 
 Flower Pieces. 
 
 A Battle Scene . 
 
 Olindo and Sophronia . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 The Daughter of Herodias with Jolm the \ 
 
 Baptist’s Head.:..... / 
 
 Flower-Piece . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Woman’s Hoad ... 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Lehj. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Powell. 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Laguerre . 
 
 Cornelius Janssen . 
 
 Peters. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Guerchio. 
 
 Brandi. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 GLulio Procaccini. 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 C. Janssen . 
 
 M. Beccafumi. 
 Franceschini. 
 Gius. Chiari. 
 
 Jan Both. 
 
 Luca Giordano. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 [After] Lebrun. 
 Guido. 
 
 Baptist. 
 Dumenichino, 
 j Peters. 
 
 Rembrandt . 
 
iixs 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Ptornre. 
 
 Painted 
 
 by 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106 . 
 10 /. 
 108. 
 109. 
 110 ) 
 111J 
 112 . 
 
 113. 
 
 114. 
 
 115. 
 
 116 . 
 JJ7- 
 1 IS. 
 119- 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 122 ) 
 123 J 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126. 
 
 127. 
 
 128. 
 129- 
 
 130. 
 
 131. 
 
 132. 
 
 133. 
 
 134. 
 
 135. 
 
 136. 
 
 137. 
 
 138. 
 139- 
 
 140. 
 
 141. 
 
 142. 
 
 144. 
 
 145. 
 
 146. 
 
 An Old Couple. 
 
 A Dutch Family . 
 
 Catherine de’ Medicis . 
 
 Esther and Ahasuerus . 
 
 Rubens's Wife (Eleanor Forman)_ 
 
 Our Saviour and the Virgin. 
 
 Teniers. 
 Ostade. 
 Rubens. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Rubens. 
 
 A. Curacci. 
 
 Landscapes 
 
 Ferg. 
 
 Landscape.. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Monkeys, in Monks’ Habits. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Boors playing at Cards. 
 
 Travellers refreshing, with view of Dort 
 
 Curiosity detected. 
 
 Virgin and Child, with St. John and 1 
 
 St. Nicholas.J 
 
 (Over the Fire-Place.) 
 
 Oval Piece, from an Ancient Gem .... 
 
 Views in Blenheim Park. 
 
 (Over the Door) Isaac blessing Jacob.. 
 
 GREAT DRAWING ROCM. 
 
 (Commencing from the door facing 
 the Entrance to the Little Drawing 
 Room.) 
 
 Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Killigrew, twol 
 
 of Charles II.’s favourites.J 
 
 King Charles I. on Horseback. 
 
 Three Beggar Boys. 
 
 Andromeda and Perseus . 
 
 Charles I. 
 
 Rubens’s Wife and Child. 
 
 Henrietta Maria, Wife of Charles I.... 
 
 Philip II. of Spain. 
 
 Two Beggar Boys. 
 
 The Offering of the Kings. 
 
 George, Fourth Duke of Marlborough 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 George, Fourth Dune of Marlborough 
 
 Death of the Virgin . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 The Late Duke of Marlborough and| 
 
 1 Lord Strafford and his Secretary .... 
 
 DINING ROOM. 
 
 (Commencing opposite the Entrance 
 Door from the Great Drawing Room.) 
 
 The Rape of Europa . 
 
 John, Duke of Bedford. 
 
 Lord Churchill. 
 
 George, Fourth Duke of Marlborough 
 The Late Duchess and Child. 
 
 Wouverman'i. 
 Eglon Vanderneer. 
 Teniers. 
 Vanderneer. 
 Ruysdael. 
 
 Teniers . 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Sharpe. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Hofland. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Vandyck% 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Strecklin. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Jones. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Rubens . 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Owen. 
 
 Cosway. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
MR. ANGERSTEIN’s COLLECTION. 3 
 
 intense desires of the soul, and of which it 
 never tires. A capital print-shop (Molteno’s or 
 Colnaghi’s) is a point to aim at in a morning’s 
 walk—a relief and satisfaction in the motley 
 confusion, the littleness, the vulgarity of com¬ 
 mon life : but a print-shop has but a mean, 
 cold, meagre, petty appearance, after coming 
 out of a fine Collection of Pictures. We want 
 the size of life, the marble flesh, the rich tones 
 of nature, the diviner expanded expression. 
 Good prints are, no doubt, better than bad pic¬ 
 tures 5 or prints, generally speaking, are better 
 than pictures; for we have more prints of 
 good pictures than of bad ones : yet they are 
 for the most part but hints, loose memoran¬ 
 dums, outlines in little of what the painter has 
 done. How often, in turning over a number of 
 choice engravings, do we tantalise ourselves by 
 thinking “ what a head that must be,”—in won¬ 
 dering what colour a piece of drapery is of, 
 green or black,—in wishing, in vain, to know 
 the exact tone of the sky in a particular corner 
 of the picture ! Throw open the folding-doors 
 of a fine Collection, and you see all you have 
 desired realised at a blow—the bright originals 
 starting up in their own proper shape, clad 
 with flesh and blood, and teeming with the first 
 conception of the painter’s mind! The disad¬ 
 vantage of pictures is that they cannot be 
 multiplied to any extent, like books or prints ; 
 but this, in another point of view, operates 
 
 b 2 
 
1 
 
 sir. angerstein’s collection. 
 
 A comparison of this sort, we believe, may be 
 made, in spite of the proverb, without injustice 
 to the painter or the poet. Both gain by it. 1 he 
 idea conveyed by the one, perhaps, receives 
 an additional grace and lustre, while a more 
 beautiful moral sentiment hovers round the 
 other, from thinking of them in this casual 
 connection. If again it be asked. Which is the 
 most admirable?—we should answer—Both are 
 equally exquisite in their way, and yield the 
 imagination all the pleasure it is capable el¬ 
 and should decline giving an invidious prefer¬ 
 ence to either. The cup can only be full. Ihe 
 young shepherd in the Arcadia wants no out¬ 
 ward grace to recommend him; the stripling 
 God no hidden charm of expression. r Ihe 
 language of painting and poetry is intelligible 
 enough to mortals ; the spirit of both is divine, 
 and far too good for him who, instead of 
 enjoying to the utmost height, would find an 
 unwelcome flaw in either. The Silenus and 
 Apollo has something of a Raffaellesque air, 
 with a mixture of Correggio’s arch sensibi¬ 
 lity—there is nothing of Titian in the colouring 
 —yet Annibal Carracci was in theory ^deserter 
 from the first to the two last of these masters; 
 and swore with an oath, in a letter to his 
 uncle Ludovico, that “ they were the only true 
 painters!” 
 
 We should nearly have exhausted our stock 
 of enthusiasm in descanting on these two com- 
 
MR. ANGERSTEIN S COLLECTION. 
 
 13 
 
 than never ! This same portrait is not, we think, 
 the truest specimen of Vandyke. It has not his 
 mild, pensive, somewhat effeminate cast of colour 
 and expression. His best portraits have an air 
 of faded gentility about them. The Gevartius 
 has too many streaks of blood-colour, too many 
 marks of the pencil, to convey an exact idea of 
 Vandyke’s characteristic excellence; though it 
 is a fine imitation of Rubens’s florid manner. 
 Vandyke’s most striking portraits are those which 
 look just like a gentleman or lady seen in a 
 looking-glass, and neither more nor less. 
 
 Of the Claudes, we prefer the St. Ursula—the 
 [30] Embarking of the Five Thousand Virgins —to 
 the others. The water is exquisite; and the sails 
 of the vessels glittering in the morning sun, and 
 the blue flags placed against the trees, which 
 seem like an opening into the sky behind—so 
 sparkling is the effect of this ambiguity in colour¬ 
 ing—are in Claude’s most perfect manner. The 
 Altieri Claude is one of his noblest and most 
 classical compositions, with towers, and trees, 
 and streams, and flocks, and herds, and distant 
 sunny vales. 
 
 Where universal Pan, 
 
 Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, 
 
 Leads on the eternal spring : 
 
 but the effect of the execution has been dead¬ 
 ened and rendered flat by time or ill-usage. There 
 is a dull formal appearance, as if the different 
 
58 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 Sea-pieces are capital—the water is smooth as 
 glass, and the boats and vessels have the buoy¬ 
 ancy of butterflies on it. The Sea-port, by A. 
 Cuyp, is miraculous for truth, brilliancy, and 
 clearness, almost beyond actual water. These 
 cannot be passed over; but there is a little 
 picture which we beg to commend to the gentle 
 reader, the Vangoyen, at the end of the room, 
 No. 156, which has that yellow-tawny colour 
 in the meads, and that grey chill look in the 
 old convent, that give one the precise feeling 
 of a mild day towards the end of winter, in a 
 humid, marshy country. We many years ago 
 copied a Vangoyen, a view of a Canal “with 
 yellow tufted banks and gliding sail,” modestly 
 pencilled, truly felt—and have had an affection 
 for him ever since. There is a small inner room 
 with some most respectable modern pictures. 
 Wilkie’s Breakfast-table is among them. 
 
 The Sacraments, by N. Poussin, occupy a 
 separate room by themselves, and have a grand 
 and solemn effect; but we could hardly see 
 them where they are ; and in general we prefer 
 his treatment of light and classical subjects to 
 those of sacred history. He wanted weight for 
 the last; or, if that word is objected to, we will 
 change it, and say force. 
 
 On the whole, the Stafford Gallery is proba¬ 
 bly the most magnificent Collection this country 
 can boast. The specimens of the different 
 schools are as numerous as they are select; 
 
76 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 obviously distinguished. We have seen a print 
 of this picture, in which it is said to be done 
 for Ignatius Loyola. The portrait of a lady with 
 green and white purfled sleeves [116] (like the 
 leaves and flower of the water-lily, and as clear!) 
 is admirable. It was in the Pall-Mall exhibition 
 of the Old Masters a short time ago; and is by 
 Sebastian del Piombo.—The care of the painting, 
 the natural ease of the attitude, and the steady, 
 sensible, conversable look of the countenance, 
 place this in a class of pictures which one feels 
 a wish to have always by one’s side, whenever 
 there is a want of thought, or a flaw in the 
 temper, that requires filling up or setting to 
 rights by some agreeable and at the same time 
 not over-exciting object. There are several soi- 
 disant Parmegianos ; one or two good Bassanos; 
 a Battle-Piece [1] set down to Giulio Romano ;* 
 a coloured drawing (in one corner of a room) 
 of a Nymph and Satyr is very fine; and some 
 of Poelemberg’s little disagreeable pictures of 
 the same subject, in which the Satyrs look like 
 paltry bits of painted wood, and the Nymphs 
 are like glazed China-ware. We have a 
 prejudice against Poelemberg, which is a rare 
 thing with us ! 
 
 The Cartoons occupy a room by themselves— 
 
 * It is a copy by Giulio Romano, after the Fresco in the 
 Vatican, designed by Raphael, and executed by Romano 
 and others of his scholars. 
 
82 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 betrays the hard, unimaginative, self-willed un¬ 
 derstanding of the Sorcerer.—There is a head (a 
 profile) coming in on one side of the picture, which 
 we would point out to our readers as one of the 
 most finely relieved, and best preserved, in this 
 series. The face of Elymas, and some others in 
 the picture, have been a good deal hurt by time 
 and ill-treatment. There is a snuffy look under 
 the nose, as if the water-colour had been washed 
 away in some damp lumber-room, or unsheltered 
 out-house. The Cartoons have felt “ the sea¬ 
 sons’ difference,” being exposed to wind and rain, 
 tossed about from place to place, and cut down 
 by profane hands to fit them to one of their 
 abodes; so that it is altogether wonderful that, 
 
 ' through their looped and tattered wretched¬ 
 ness,” any traces are seen of their original splen¬ 
 dour and beauty. That they are greatly changed 
 from what they were even a hundred years ago, 
 is evident from the heads in the Radcliffe library 
 at Oxford, which were cut out from one of them 
 that was nearly destroyed by some accident, and 
 from the large French engravings of single heads, 
 done about the same time, which are as finished 
 and correct as possible. Even Sir James Thorn¬ 
 hill’s copies bear testimony to the same effect. 
 Though without the spirit of the originals, they 
 have fewer blots and blotches in them, from 
 having been better taken care of. A skeleton is 
 barely left of the Cartoons: but their mighty 
 
92 THE GROSVENOH PICTURES. 
 
 and consequently the pleasure of the reader in 
 learning what we thought of it. 
 
 Among the pictures that haunt our eye in 
 this way is the Adoration of the Angels, by N. 
 Poussin. It is one of his finest works—elegant, 
 graceful, full of feeling, happy, enlivening. It 
 is treated rather as a classical than as a sacred 
 subject. The Angels are more like Cupids than 
 Angels. They are, however, beautifully grouped, 
 with various and expressive attitudes, and remind 
 one, by their half antic, half serious homage, of 
 the line— 
 
 Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 
 
 They are laden with baskets of flowers—the 
 tone of the picture is rosy, florid; it seems to 
 have been painted at 
 
 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn; 
 
 and the angels overhead sport and gambol in 
 the air with butterfly wings, like butterflies. 
 It is one of those rare productions that satisfy 
 the mind, and from which we turn away, not 
 from weariness, but from a fulness of delight.— 
 The Israelites returning Thanks in the Wilderness 
 is a fine picture, but inferior to this. Near it is 
 a group of Angels, said to be by Correggio. 
 The expressions are grotesque and fine, but the 
 colouring does not seem to us to be his. The 
 texture of the flesh, as well as the hue, too 
 much resembles the skin of ripe fruit. We meet 
 
PICTURES AT STOURHEAD. 
 
 Ill 
 
 have thought that the Caliph Vathek would have 
 dwindled down into an Emperor of China and 
 King of Japan ? But so it is. 
 
 Stourhead, the seat of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, 
 did not answer our expectations. But Stourton, 
 the village where it stands, made up for our dis¬ 
 appointment. After passing the park-gate, which 
 is a beautiful and venerable relic, you descend 
 into Stourton by a sharp-winding declivity, almost 
 like going under-ground, between high hedges 
 of laurel trees, and with an expanse of woods 
 and water spread beneath. It is a sort of rural 
 Herculaneum, a subterranean retreat. The inn 
 is like a modernized guard-house; the village- 
 church stands on a lawn without any inclosure ; 
 a row of cottages facing it, with their white¬ 
 washed walls and flaunting honey-suckles, are 
 neatness itself. Every thing has an air of elegance, 
 and yet tells a tale of other times. It is a place 
 that might be held sacred to stillness and solitary 
 musing !—The adjoining mansion of Stourhead 
 commands an extensive view of Salisbury Plain, 
 whose undulating swells shew the earth in its 
 primeval simplicity, bare, with naked breasts, and 
 varied in its appearance only by the shadows of 
 the clouds that pass across it. The view without 
 is pleasing and singular: there is a little within¬ 
 doors to beguile attention. There is one master¬ 
 piece of colouring by Paul Veronese, a naked 
 child with a dog. The tone of the flesh is per¬ 
 fection itself. On praising this picture (which 
 we always do when we like a thing) we were told 
 
112 
 
 PICTURES AT STOURIIEAD. 
 
 it had been criticised by a great judge, Mr. 
 Beckford of Fonthill, who had found fault with 
 the execution as too coarse and muscular. We 
 do not wonder—it is not like his own turnery- 
 ware 1 We should also mention an exquisite 
 Holbein, the Head of a Child , and a very pleasing 
 little landscape by Wilson. Besides these, there 
 are some capital pen-and-ink drawings (views 
 in Venice), by Canaletti, and three large copies 
 after Guido of the Fenus attired by the Graces, 
 the Andromeda , and Herodias's Daughter. They 
 breathe the soul of softness and grace, and re¬ 
 mind one of those fair, sylph-like forms that 
 sometimes descend upon the earth with fatal, 
 fascinating looks, and that “ tempt but to betray.” 
 After the cabinet-pictures at Fonthill, even a good 
 copy of a Guido is a luxury and a relief to the 
 mind: it is something to inhale the divine airs 
 that play around his figures, and we are satisfied 
 if we can but “ trace his footsteps, and his skirts 
 far-off behold.” The rest of this Collection is, 
 for the most part, trash: either Italian pictures 
 painted in the beginning of the last century, or 
 English ones in the beginning of this. It gave 
 us pain to see some of the latter ; and we willingly 
 draw a veil over the humiliation of the art, in 
 the age and country that we live in. We ought, 
 however, to mention a portrait of a youth (the 
 present proprietor of Stourhead) by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, which is elegant, brilliant, “ though in 
 ruins;” and a spirited portrait by Northcote, of 
 
116 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 become of the never-ending studious thoughts 
 that brought their own reward or promised good 
 to mankind ? of the tears that started welcome 
 and unbidden ? of the sighs that whispered 
 future peace ? of the smiles that shone, not in 
 my face indeed, but that cheered my heart, and 
 made a sunshine there when all was gloom 
 around ? That fairy vision—that invisible glory, 
 by which I was once attended—ushered into 
 life, has left my side, and “ faded to the light of 
 common day,” and I now see what is, or has 
 been—not ivhat may lie hid in Time’s bright 
 circle and golden chaplet! Perhaps this is the 
 characteristic difference between youth and a 
 later period of life—that we, by degrees, learn 
 to take things more as we find them, call them 
 more by their right names ; that we feel the 
 warmth of summer, but the winter’s cold as 
 well; that we see beauties, but can spy defects 
 in the fairest face ; and no longer look at every 
 thing through the genial atmosphere of our 
 own existence. We grow more literal and less 
 credulous every day, lose much enjoyment, and 
 gain some useful, and more useless, know¬ 
 ledge. The second time I passed along the 
 road that skirts Burleigh Park, the morning was 
 dank and “ ways were mire.” I saw and felt it 
 not: my mind was otherwise engaged. Ah! 
 thought I, there is that fine old head by Rem¬ 
 brandt ; there, within those cold grey walls, the 
 painter of old age is enshrined, immortalized in 
 
PICTURES AT OXFORD. 
 
 131 
 
 retired and lonely student brooded over the 
 historic, or over fancy’s, page, imposing high 
 tasks for himself, framing high destinies for the 
 race of man—the lamp, the mine, the well¬ 
 head whence the spark of learning was kindled, 
 its stream flowed, its treasures were spread 
 out through the remotest corners of the land 
 and to distant nations. Let him then who is 
 fond of indulging in a dream-like existence go 
 to Oxford, and stay there; let him study this 
 magnificent spectacle, the same under all 
 aspects, with its mental twilight tempering the 
 glare of noon, or mellowing the silver moon¬ 
 light ; let him wander in her sylvan suburbs, 
 or linger in her cloistered halls ; but let him 
 not catch the din of scholars or teachers, or 
 dine or sup with them, or speak a word to any 
 of the privileged inhabitants for if he does, 
 the spell will be broken, the poetry and the 
 religion gone, and the palace of enchantment 
 will melt from his embrace into thin air! 
 
 The only Collection of Pictures at Oxford is 
 that at the Bodleian Library ; bequeathed by Sir 
 William Guise. It is so far appropriate that it 
 is dingy, solemn, old ; and we would gladly leave 
 it to its repose ; but where criticism comes, 
 affection “ clappeth his wings, and straightway 
 he is gone.” Most of the pictures are either 
 copies, or spoiled, or never were good for any 
 thing. There is, however, a Music Piece by 
 Titian, which bears the stamp of his hand, and 
 
 k 2 
 
138 
 
 PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 Fornarina, of which we have a common and 
 well-executed engraving. 
 
 “ But did you see the Titian room ? ” Yes, we 
 did, and a glorious treat it was 5 nor do we know 
 why it should not be shown to every one. There 
 is nothing alarming but the title of the subjects 
 — The Loves of the Gocls —just as was the case 
 with Mr. T. Moore’s Loves of the Angels —but oh ! 
 how differently treated! What a gusto in the 
 the first, compared with the insipidity of the last! 
 What streaks of living blood-colour, so unlike 
 gauze spangles or pink silk stockings ! What 
 union, what symmetry of form, instead of sprawl¬ 
 ing, flimsy descriptions—what an expression of 
 amorous enjoyment about the mouth, the eyes, 
 and even to the finger-ends, instead of cold con¬ 
 ceits and moonlight similes! This is en passant; 
 so to our task.—It is said these pictures were 
 discovered in an old lumber-room by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, who set a high value on them, and 
 that they are undoubtedly by Titian, having been 
 originally sent over as a present by the King of 
 Sardinia (for whose ancestor they were painted) 
 to the first Duke of Marlborough. We should 
 (without, however, pretending to set up an 
 opinion) incline, from the internal evidence, to 
 think them from the pencil of the great Vene¬ 
 tian, but for two circumstances : the first is the 
 texture of the skin; and secondly, they do not 
 compose well as pictures. They have no back 
 ground to set them off, but a most ridiculous 
 
156 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 Italian masters—those of the Dutch and Flemish 
 schools—to which we may add the comic pro¬ 
 ductions of our own countryman, Hogarth. 
 These all stand unrivalled in the history of art ■, 
 and they owe their pre-eminence and perfection 
 to one and the same principle —the immediate 
 imitation of nature. This principle predominated 
 equally in the classical forms of the antique, and 
 in the grotesque figures of Hogarth : the per¬ 
 fection of art in each arose from the truth and 
 identity of the imitation with the reality ; the 
 difference was in the subjects—there was none 
 in the mode of imitation. Yet the advocates for 
 the ideal system of art would persuade their dis¬ 
 ciples that the difference between Hogarth and 
 the antique does not consist in the different 
 forms of nature which they imitated, but in this, 
 that the one is like, and the other unlike, nature. 
 This is an error the most detrimental, perhaps, 
 of all others, both to the theory and practice of 
 art. As, however, the prejudice is very strong 
 and general, and supported by the highest au¬ 
 thority, it will be necessary to go somewhat 
 elaborately into the question, in order to produce 
 an impression on the other side. 
 
 What has given rise to the common notion of 
 the ideal, as something quite distinct from actual 
 nature, is probably the perfection of the Greek 
 statues. Not seeing among ourselves anything 
 to correspond in beauty and grandeur, either with 
 the feature or form of the limbs in these exquisite 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 185 
 
 on. The distribution of light and shade resembles 
 the effect of light on a globe. The Phaeton has the 
 dazzling fervid appearance of an autumnal even¬ 
 ing; the golden radiance streams in solid masses 
 from behind the flickering clouds ; every object 
 is baked in the sun : the brown foreground, the 
 thick foliage of the trees, the streams, shrunk 
 and stealing along behind the dark high banks, 
 combine to produce that richness and charac¬ 
 teristic unity of effect which is to be found only 
 in nature, or in art derived from the study and 
 imitation of nature. The glowing splendour of 
 this landscape reminds us of the saying of 
 Wilson, that in painting such subjects he en¬ 
 deavoured to give the effect of insects dancing 
 in the evening sun. His eye seemed formed to 
 drink in the light. These two pictures, as they 
 have the greatest general effect, are more carefully 
 finished in the particular details than the other 
 pictures in the collection. This circumstance 
 may be worth the attention of those who are apt 
 to think that strength and slovenliness are the 
 same thing. 
 
 Cicero at his Villa is a clear and beautiful 
 representation of nature. The sky is admirable 
 for its pure azure tone. Among the less finished 
 productions of Wilson’s pencil, which display his 
 great knowledge of perspective, is A Landscape 
 with Figures Bathing , in which the figures are 
 wonderfully detached from the sea beyond ; and a 
 View in Italy, with a lake and a little boat, which 
 
'206 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 at the accustomed hour, and his looks turn to 
 stone ; his children one by one drop down dead 
 at his feet; he is seized with blindness, and, in 
 the agony of his despair, he gropes on his knees 
 after them, 
 
 “ Calling each by name 
 For three days after they were dead.’ ’ 
 
 Even in the other world he is represented 
 with the same fierce, dauntless, unrelenting 
 character, “gnawing the skull of his adversary, 
 bis fell repast.” The subject of the Laocoon is 
 scarcely equal to that described by Dante. The 
 horror there is physical and momentary; in the 
 other, the imagination fills up the long, obscure, 
 dreary void of despair, and joins its unutterable 
 pangs to the loud cries of nature. What is 
 there in the picture to convey the ghastly 
 horrors of the scene, or the mighty energy of 
 soul with which they are borne? His picture 
 of Macbeth is full of wild and grotesque images ■, 
 and the apparatus of the witches contains a very 
 elaborate and well arranged inventory of dread¬ 
 ful objects. His Cardinal Beaufort is a fine 
 display of rich, mellow colouring; and there is 
 something gentlemanly and Shakespearian in 
 the King and the Attendant Nobleman. At the 
 same time, I think the expression of the Car¬ 
 dinal himself is too much one of physical horror, 
 a canine gnashing of the teeth, like a man 
 strangled. This is not the best style of history. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 231 
 
 lead of public opinion, of giving a firm, manly, 
 and independent tone to that opinion, they make 
 it their business to watch all its caprices, and 
 follow it in every casual turning. They dare 
 not give their sanction to sterling merit, strug- 
 ling with difficulties, but take advantage of 
 its success to reflect credit on their own repu¬ 
 tation for sagacity. Their taste is a servile 
 dependent on their vanity, and their patronage 
 has an air of pauperism about it. They neglect 
 or treat with insult the favourite whom they 
 suspect of having fallen off in the opinion of 
 the public ; but, if he is able to recover his 
 ground without their assistance, are ready to 
 heap their mercenary bounties upon those of 
 greeting with friendly congratulations and 
 share his triumph with him. 
 
 Perhaps the only public patronage which 
 was ever really useful to the arts, or worthy 
 of them, was that which they received first in 
 Greece, and afterwards in Italy, from the reli¬ 
 gious institutions of the country; when the 
 artist felt himself, as it were, a servant at the 
 altar ; when his hand gave a visible form to 
 gods or heroes, angels or apostles ; and when the 
 enthusiasm of genius was exalted by mingling 
 with the flame of national devotion. The 
 artist was not here degraded by being made 
 the dependent on the caprice of wealth or 
 fashion, but felt himself at once a public bene¬ 
 factor. He had to embody, by the highest 
 
244 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 have been found in nature. The back, and 
 trunk, and arms, and legs, and thighs, would 
 have been there, for these are parts of the na¬ 
 tural man, or actual living body, and not inven¬ 
 tions of the artist, or ideal creations borrowed 
 from the skies. There would have been the 
 same sw'eep in the back of the Theseus ; the 
 same swell in the muscles of the arm on which 
 he leans ; the same division of the leg into calf 
 and small, i. e. the same general results, or 
 aggregation of parts, in the principal and most 
 striking divisions of the body. The upper part 
 of the arm would have been thicker than the 
 lower, the thighs larger than the legs, the body 
 larger than the thighs, in a cast taken from com¬ 
 mon nature ; and in casts taken from the finest 
 nature they would have been so in the same 
 proportion, form, and manner, as in the statue 
 of the Theseus, if the Theseus answers to the 
 idea of the finest nature; for the idea and the 
 reality must be the same; only, we contend that 
 the idea is taken from the reality, instead of 
 existing by itself, or being the creature of fancy. 
 That is, there would be the same grandeur of 
 proportions and parts in a cast taken from finely 
 developed nature, such as the Greek sculptors 
 had constantly before them, naked and in action, 
 that we find in the limbs and masses of bone, 
 flesh, and muscle, in these much and justly 
 admired remains. 
 
 Again, and incontestibly, there would have 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 251 
 
 We shall now proceed to elucidate these gene¬ 
 ral principles in such manner as we are able. 
 
 1 . The first is, that art is (Jirst and last) the 
 imitation of nature. 
 
 By nature, we mean actually existing nature 
 or some one object to be found in rerum natura, 
 not an idea of nature existing solely in the mind, 
 got from an infinite number of different objects, 
 but which was never yet embodied in an indivi¬ 
 dual instance. Sir Joshua Reynolds may be rank¬ 
 ed at the head of those who have maintained the 
 supposition that nature (or the universe of things) 
 was indeed the ground-work or foundation on 
 which art rested; but that the superstructure 
 rose above it, that it towered by degrees above 
 the world of realities, and was suspended in the 
 regions of thought alone—that a middle form, a 
 more refined idea, borrowed from the observation 
 of a number of particulars, but unlike any of 
 them, was the standard of truth and beauty, and 
 the glittering phantom that hovered round the 
 nead of the genuine artist: 
 
 -So from the ground 
 
 Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
 
 More airy, last the bright consummate flower ! 
 
 We have no notion of this vague, equivocal 
 theory of art, and contend, on the other hand, 
 that each image in art should have a tally or cor¬ 
 responding prototype in some object in nature. 
 Otherwise, we do not see the use of art at all: 
 
314 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 which the human form acquired, and the oppor¬ 
 tunities for studying its varieties and movements 
 in the Olympic exercises, but considers the 
 whole miracle as easily solved, when the anato¬ 
 mist came with his probe and ploughed up the 
 surface of the flesh, and the geometrician came 
 with his line and plummet, and demonstrated the 
 centre of gravity. He sums up the question in 
 these words: “ In the early times of Greece, 
 Pausanias informs us, the twelve gods were 
 worshipped in Arcadia, under the forms of rude 
 stones; and before Doedalus, the statues had 
 eyes nearly shut, the arms attached to their sides, 
 and the legs close together; but as geometry, 
 mechanics, arithmetic, and anatomy improved, 
 painting and sculpture acquired action, proportion, 
 and detailed parts." As to the slight account of 
 the immediate observation of visible objects, the 
 point may be settled by an obvious dilemma; 
 either the eye sees the whole of any object before 
 it, or it does not. If it sees and comprehends 
 the whole of it, with all its parts and relations, 
 then it must retain and be able to give a faithful 
 and satisfactory resemblance, without calling in 
 the aid of rules or science to prevent or correct 
 errors and defects; just as the human face or 
 form is perfectly represented in a looking-glass. 
 But if the eye sees only a small part of what any 
 visible object contains in it,—has only a glim¬ 
 mering of colour, proportion, expression, &c., 
 then this incipient and imperfect knowledge may 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 329 
 
 men, one of the extremes is missing; and the 
 combining of the two is combining a positive 
 image with an unknown abstraction. To re¬ 
 present a Jupiter or Apollo, we take the best 
 species (as it seems to us), and select the best 
 of that species: how we are to get beyond that 
 best, without any given form or visible image to 
 refer to, it is not easy to determine. The ideal, 
 according to Mr. Flaxman, is the 'scale by which 
 to heaven we do ascend but it is a hazardous 
 undertaking to soar above reality, by embodying 
 an abstraction. If the ancients could have seen 
 the immortal Gods, with their bodily sense (as 
 it was said that Jupiter had revealed himself to 
 Phidias), they might have been enabled to give 
 some reflection or shadow of their countenances 
 to their human likenesses of them: otherwise 
 poetry and philosophy lent their light in vain. 
 
 It is true, we may magnify the human figure 
 to any extent we please, for that is a mechanical 
 affair; but how we are to add to our ideas of 
 grace or grandeur, beyond any thing we have 
 ever seen, merely by contemplating grace and 
 grandeur that we have never seen, is quite 
 another matter. If we venture beyond the 
 highest point of excellence of which we have 
 any example, we quit our hold of the natural, 
 without being sure that we have laid our hands 
 on what is truly divine ; for that has no earthly 
 image or representative—nature is the only rule 
 or ‘ legislator.’ We may combine existing 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 iviii 
 
 No. 
 
 239- 
 
 240. 
 
 241. 
 
 242. 
 
 243. 
 
 244. 
 
 245. 
 
 246. 
 
 247. 
 
 248. 
 
 249. 
 
 250. 
 
 251. 
 
 252. 
 
 253. 
 
 254. 
 
 255. 
 
 256. 
 
 257. 
 
 258. 
 
 259. 
 
 260 . 
 261. 
 262 . 
 
 263. 
 
 264. 
 
 265. 
 
 266 . 
 
 267. 
 
 268 . 
 
 269. 
 
 270. 
 271. 
 
 272 » 
 
 273 f 
 
 274. 
 
 275. 
 
 276. 
 2/7. 
 278 . 
 2791 
 280/ 
 281. 
 282. 
 
 283. 
 
 284. 
 
 285. 
 
 286. 
 
 287. 
 
 288. 
 289- 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Tritons carrying off a Nymph. 
 
 Grapes . 
 
 Head of a Man . 
 
 Judgment of Paris . 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 Head of a Saint . 
 
 Virgin and Child . 
 
 The Queen of Charles I. (a drawing).. 
 
 C. D. Arpino. 
 Verelst. 
 Schiavone. 
 Rotheiihamer . 
 Huy sum. 
 Parmegiano . 
 Anonymous. 
 Gibson. 
 
 queen riary’s closet. 
 
 A Sacrifice . 
 
 George, Duke of Buckingham, and"! 
 
 Francis his brother ./ 
 
 Still Life . 
 
 A Holy Family .{ 
 
 A Boy with Puppies . 
 
 Singing by Candlelight. 
 
 The Continence of Scipio. 
 
 A Landscape ... 
 
 King William III., when young .... 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 A Man’s Head . 
 
 The Head of Cyrus. 
 
 A Laughing Boy. 
 
 The Martyrdom of St. Bartholomew .. 
 
 Children with a Lamb . 
 
 A Holy Family . 
 
 St. Catharine at the Altar . 
 
 The daughter of Herodias with thel 
 
 Head of John the Baptist . J 
 
 The Infant Christ and St. John. 
 
 David and Goliath. 
 
 A Japan Peacock . 
 
 A Landscape . 
 
 Martyrdom of St. Sebastian . 
 
 Joseph bound . 
 
 Hercules and the Centaur ... 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 
 [. After ] Vandyck . 
 
 Kalf. 
 
 G. Romano , after Ra¬ 
 phael. 
 
 Castiglione. 
 
 Honthorst. 
 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 Adrian Henn% 
 Hanneman. 
 
 P. Bril. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Russell. 
 
 F. Hals. 
 
 L. Nottery. 
 
 F. Flor is. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Paul Veronese. 
 Leonardo da Vinci . 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Bogdane. 
 
 Everdingen. 
 
 L. Van Leyden. 
 
 B. Lens. 
 
 HER MAJESTY’S GALLERY. 
 
 King William III. and Queen Mary.. 
 Sir Theodore Mayerne. 
 
 Wissing. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Van Somer. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Sir A. More. 
 
 Q. Matsys. 
 
 Sir A. More. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 L. de He ere. 
 Mark Garrand. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 
 Two small Portraits . 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, when a Child. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, when young . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon . 
 
 — 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 997 \ 
 998 / 
 999 ) 
 1000J 
 1001 ) 
 1002/ 
 
 1003. 
 
 1004. 
 
 1005. 
 
 1006. 
 
 1007 . 
 
 1008. 
 
 The Hull of the Ambuscade, fifth) 
 rate. j 
 
 The Hull of the Intrepid, third rate .. 
 
 The Hull of the Portland, fourth rate.. 
 
 Sea Piece . 
 
 View in Holland. 
 
 View in Holland 
 
 Marshall. 
 
 Brooking . 
 Anonymous. 
 
 River in Holland.. S. Ruysdael. 
 
 A Sea Piece .' D. Serres. 
 
 A Sea Piece.| Monamy. 
 
 C 
 
STOURHEAD. 
 
 liii 
 
 No. 
 
 191. 
 
 195. 
 
 196. 
 
 19 ;. 
 
 198. 
 
 199. 
 
 200 . 
 
 201 . 
 
 202 . 
 
 203. 
 
 204. 
 245. 
 206. 
 207. 
 203. 
 209. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 The Annunciation . 
 
 A Holy Family (on vellum). 
 
 The Marriage in Cana (a Sketch on 
 
 paper)... 
 
 A Holy Family . 
 
 Albano. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 P. Veronese, 
 Schedoni. 
 
 East, or Window Side. 
 
 A Madonna and Angels. 
 
 A Classical Subject. 
 
 A Group from Poussin’s Rape of the 
 
 Sabines ... 
 
 (In the Middle Compartment) Dis¬ 
 tress by Sea.. 
 
 (In the Middle Compartment) Dis¬ 
 tress by Land . 
 
 T After] A. del Sarto. 
 La Grene. 
 
 S. Woodforde. 
 
 H. Thompson. 
 
 HALL. 
 
 A Painting, subject not named . 
 
 Interior of the Pantheon at Stourhead 
 
 St. Peter . 
 
 Old Parr. 
 
 A Mill, near Llangollen. 
 
 Portrait of R. Fenton, Esq. 
 
 Portrait of Mr. W. Cunnington. 
 
 Leandro Bassano. 
 Woodforde. 
 [After] Guido. 
 Anonymous. 
 Calico tt. 
 Woodforde. 
 
 STAIRCASE. 
 
 South-Side. 
 
 210 . 
 
 211 . 
 
 212 . 
 
 213. 
 
 214. 
 
 215. 
 
 216. 
 
 217. 
 
 218 . 
 
 219. 
 
 220 . 
 
 Lake of Bracciano, near Rome . 
 
 View in Flanders... 
 
 View at Tivoli... 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 West-Side. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Storm at Sea. . .. 
 
 Lake of Albano with View of the 'i 
 
 Campagna./ 
 
 Landscape, with Porcupine Hunting .. 
 
 Landscape... 
 
 Castle of St. Angelo, at Rome. 
 
 North-Side. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 D. Teniers. 
 Horizonte. 
 Momper. 
 
 W. C. Bampfylde. 
 
 Wotton. 
 
 Vernet. 
 
 Gregorio Fidanza. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 Domenichino (?) 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 221 . 
 
 222 . 
 
 223. 
 224) 
 225 J 
 
 The Convent of St. Cosimato . 
 
 Bay and City of Naples, with a Re¬ 
 gatta . 
 
 Ruins. 
 
 Landscapes . 
 
 Carlo Labruzzi. 
 Pietro Antoniani. 
 Anonymous. 
 Wotton. 
 
 East-Side. 
 
 226. 
 22 7. 
 228 V 
 229J 
 230. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 A Storm at Sea 
 Landscapes ... 
 Landscape . 
 
 W. C. Bampfylde. 
 
 Lucatelli. 
 
 Wotton. 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 Ixx 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Roman Matrons. 
 
 Mary Magdalen. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 St. Jerome . 
 
 St. Andrew . 
 
 St. Sebastian . 
 
 St. James. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Virgin Reading . 
 
 FIFTH GEORGE ROOM, OR HEAVEN. 
 
 The Painted Ceiling represents Jupiter and') 
 Juno seated, with the Zodiac over their | 
 heads. Below them, Ganymede, the j 
 Eagle, and Peacock ; Cybele, drawn by 1 
 Lions ; and Ceres crowned with Corn, and ? 
 drawn by Lions. On the left Minerva | 
 resting on her Shield ; Apollo, Diana, j 
 Bacchus and Ariadne, Hercules, Castor j 
 and Pollux, the Goddess of Sleep, &C....J 
 On the West and North Wall. 
 
 The Story of the Amour of Mars and Venus.. 
 The East Wall. 
 
 Vulcan’s Forge, with Cyclops at work. 
 
 Over the Door. 
 
 Jupiter and Semele . 
 
 Beccafumi . 
 Baroccio. 
 Caravaggio. 
 Guido. 
 
 Dnmenichino . 
 Albano. 
 Veronese. 
 Claude . 
 Girofulo . 
 
 THE GRAND STAIRCASE, OR HELL. 
 
 The Ceiling represents the Tartarus of the‘'| 
 Ancients, with the Story of various per- I 
 sonages of Classical History, suffering f 
 
 torments .J 
 
 North Wall. 
 
 Mark Antony entertained by Cleopatra. 
 
 West Wall. 
 
 Orpheus and Eurydice. 
 
 East Wall. 
 
 Horrors of War . 
 
 DINING ROOM. 
 
 Still Life .. 
 
 Triumph of Time . 
 
 Wise Men’s Offerings . 
 
 Landscape (with figures by Hohberna) . 
 
 Four Ladies of the House of Parma. 
 
 Diogenes throwing away his cup . 
 
 Passage of the Israelites . 
 
 Dead Game. 
 
 Verrio • 
 
 Stothard. 
 
 H. Van Ravestein. 
 M Preti. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Ostade. 
 
 Schedone. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Castiglione. 
 
 Koninck. 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 Ixxiii 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Venus Rising from the Sea.. 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 Apollo flaying Marsyas. 
 
 Mary, Queen of England. 
 
 Martyrdom of St. Lawrence. 
 
 Roman Ruins. 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Cat and dead Game .. 
 
 St. Sebastian . 
 
 Lord Treasurer Burleigh. 
 
 A Lady’s Head . 
 
 Pigeons . 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Martyrdom of St. Stephen . 
 
 Head of Charles IX. of France (on board) .. 
 
 Dead Christ and the Three Marys. 
 
 A Head. 
 
 Dead Christ, Virgin, and Angel. 
 
 Lord Treasurer Burleigh’s Mother. 
 
 C. Gherardi. 
 F. Lauri. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 Viviani. 
 
 Vunder meulen. 
 D. Koninck. 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Gerard. 
 
 Guido. 
 Koninck. 
 Vundermeulen. 
 R. Savery. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 Holbein. 
 
 P. da Cortona. 
 Titian. 
 
 Van Remee. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 NORTH GLASS CASE, OR CABIN ST. 
 
 Landscape ... 
 
 Wise Men’s Offering. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Charles II. 
 
 Hon. Charles Cavendish (Second Son ofi 
 
 Second Earl of Devonshire).J 
 
 A Lady . 
 
 David Cecil, Son of Fourth Earl of Exeter .. 
 
 Justius Lipsius . 
 
 Thomas Chambers, Esq..... 
 
 Sir R. Cecil, Knt. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton .. 
 
 Virgin and St. John (Enamel) . 
 
 Diana and Actseon. 
 
 Sybilla Persica. 
 
 Venus.•[ 
 
 Virgin, Christ, and St. John (enamel). 
 
 Lsetitia, Countess of Exeter. 
 
 Virgin, Christ, and St. John (on a blood i 
 
 stone) ./ 
 
 The Hon. Robert Boyle. 
 
 Lady Eliz. Essex. 
 
 A Head. 
 
 Brownlow, Eighth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell... 
 
 Hannah Sophia, Countess of Exeter. 
 
 Brownlow, Ninth Earl of Exeter . 
 
 Lord Exeter. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Chaplin . 
 
 Madame de S6vign6 . 
 
 Louis IX. 
 
 Indolence. 
 
 Louise de QuerouaiPes, Duchess of Ports- \ 
 mouth... S 
 
 Dixon. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Hoskins. 
 Anonymous. 
 J. Hoskins. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Cooper. 
 
 Louis Crosse . 
 Petitot. 
 Anonymous. 
 Silvia Stern. 
 
 Maepherson of 
 Florence. 
 Petitot. 
 Roeguet. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 J. Pool. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Walker. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Silvia . Stern. 
 
 Spencer. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Petitot. 
 
 A. XJrbano. 
 
 Cooper. 
 
8 
 
 MR. ANGERSTEIN S COLLECTION. 
 
 positions, in almost any other case ; but there 
 is no danger of this in the present instance. If 
 we were at any loss in this respect, we should 
 only have to turn to the large picture of the 
 Raising of Lazarus, by Sebastian del Pi- 
 ombo ; [1]. 
 
 -and still walking under, 
 
 Finding new matter to look up and wonder. 
 
 We might dwell on the masterly strength of 
 the drawing, the gracefulness of the principal 
 female figures, the high-wrought execution, the 
 deep, rich, mosaic colouring, the massiness and 
 bustle of the back-ground. We think this one 
 of the best pictures on so large a scale that 
 we are anywhere acquainted with. The whole 
 management of the design has a very noble and 
 imposing effect, and each part severally will bear 
 the closest scrutiny. It is a magnificent struc¬ 
 ture built of solid and valuable materials. The 
 artist has not relied merely on the extent of his 
 canvas, or the importance of his subject, for 
 producing a striking result—the effect is made 
 out .by an aggregate of excellent parts. The 
 hands, the feet, the drapery, the heads, the fea¬ 
 tures, are all fine. There is some satisfaction 
 in looking at a large historical picture, such as 
 this: for you really gain in quantity, without 
 losing in quality; and have a studious imitation 
 of individual nature, combined with masculine 
 invention, and the comprehensive arrangement 
 
20 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERV. 
 
 a lesson, or sauntered away their vacant hours 
 in its shade: yet, not one Shakspeare is there to 
 be found among them all! The boy is clothed 
 and fed, and gets through his accidence; but 
 no trace of his youthful learning, any more than 
 of his saffron livery, is to be met with in the 
 man. Genius is not to be “ constrained by 
 mastery.”—Nothing comes of these endowments 
 and foundations for learning; you might as well 
 make dirt-pies, or build houses with cards. Yet 
 something does come of them too—a retreat for 
 age, a dream in youth—a feeling in the air 
 around them, the memory of the past, the hope 
 of what will never be. Sweet are the studies of 
 the school-boy, delicious his idle hours! Fresh 
 and gladsome is his waking, balmy are his slum¬ 
 bers, book-pillowed ! He wears a green and 
 yellow livery perhaps; but “ green and yellow 
 melancholy” comes not near him, or, if it does, 
 is tempered with youth and innocence! To 
 thumb his Eutropius, or to knuckle down at 
 taw, are to him equally delightful; for what¬ 
 ever stirs the blood, or inspires thought in him, 
 quickens the pulse of life and joy. He has only 
 to feel, in order to be happy; pain turns smiling 
 from him, and sorrow is only a softer kind of 
 pleasure. Each sensation is but an unfolding 
 of his new being ; care, age, sickness, are idle 
 words ; the musty records of antiquity look 
 glossy in his sparkling eye, and he clasps im¬ 
 mortality as his future bride ! The coming 
 
54 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 Under the Venus, is a portrait, by Vandyke, 
 of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, a most 
 gentleman-like performance, mild, clear, intelli¬ 
 gent, unassuming; and on the right of the 
 spectator, a Madonna, by Guido, with the icy 
 glow of sanctity upon it; and to the left, the 
 Fable of Salmacis, by Albano (saving the ambi¬ 
 guity of the subject), exquisitely painted. Four 
 finer specimens of the art can scarcely be found 
 again in so small a compass. There is in 
 another room a portrait, said to be by Moroni, 
 called Titian’s School-master, from a vague 
 tradition that he was in the habit of frequently 
 visiting, in order to study and learn from it. If 
 so, he must have profited by his assiduity ; for 
 it looks as if he had painted it. Not knowing 
 any thing of Moroni, if we had been asked 
 who had done it, we should have replied, 
 “ Either Titian or the Devil.”* It is considerably 
 more laboured and minute than Titian •, but 
 the only objection at all staggering is that it 
 has less fiery animation than is ordinarily to 
 be found in his pictures. Look at the portrait 
 above it, for instance— Clement VII. by the 
 great Venetian; and you find the eye look¬ 
 ing at you again, as if it had been observing 
 you all the time : but the eye in Titian s Sclwol- 
 
 * “ Aut Erasmus aut Diabolus.” Sir Thomas More’s 
 exclamation on meeting with the philosopher of Rot¬ 
 terdam. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 83 
 
 relics, like the bones of the Mammoth, tell us 
 what the entire and living fabric must have 
 been. 
 
 In the Gate Beautif ul [608] there is a profusion 
 of what is fme, and of imposing contrasts. The 
 twisted pillars have been found fault with : but 
 there they stand, and will for ever stand to 
 answer all cavillers with their wreathed beauty. 
 The St. John in this Cartoon is an instance of 
 what we have above hinted as to the ravages of 
 time on these pictures. In the old French en¬ 
 graving (half the size of life) the features are 
 exceedingly well marked and beautiful, whereas 
 they are here in a great measure defaced ; and 
 the hair, which is at present a mere clotted mass, 
 is woven into graceful and waving curls, 
 
 -Like to those hanging locks 
 
 Of young Apollo. 
 
 Great inroads have been made on the delicate 
 outline of the other parts, and the surface has 
 been generally injured. The Beggars are as fine 
 as ever: they do not lose by the squalid con¬ 
 dition of their garb or features, but remain 
 patriarchs of poverty, and mighty in disease and 
 infirmity, as if they crawled and grovelled on the 
 pavement of Heaven. They are lifted above this 
 world ! The child carrying the doves at his back 
 is an exquisite example of grace, and innocence, 
 and buoyant motion ; and the face and figure of 
 
 g 2 
 
118 
 
 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 (to feel it in all the plenitude of unconscious 
 bliss, and take one long, last, lingering draught 
 of that full brimming cup of thoughtless free¬ 
 dom,) what then I was—that I might, as in a 
 trance, a waking dream, hear the hoarse murmur 
 of the bargemen, as the Minster tower appeared 
 in the dim twilight, come up from the willowy 
 stream, sounding low and underground like the 
 voice of the bittern;—that I might paint that 
 field opposite the window where I lived, and 
 feel that there was a green, dewy moisture in 
 the tone, beyond my pencil’s reach, but thus 
 gaining almost a new sense, and watching the 
 birth of new objects without me—that I might 
 stroll down Peterborough bank (a winter’s 
 day), and see the fresh marshes stretching out 
 in endless level perspective (as if Paul Potter 
 had painted them), with the cattle, the windmills, 
 and the red-tiled cottages, gleaming in the sun 
 to the very verge of the horizon; and watch the 
 fieldfares in innumerable flocks, gamboling in 
 the air, and sporting in the sun, and racing 
 before the clouds, making summersaults, and 
 dazzling the eye by throwing themselves into a 
 thousand figures and movements; that I might 
 go, as then, a pilgrimage to the town where my 
 mother was born, and visit the poor farm-house 
 where she was brought up, and lean upon the 
 gate where she told me she used to stand when 
 a child of ten years old and look at the setting 
 sun !—I could do all this still; but with different 
 
126 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 as indeed are all his genuine pictures. The 
 canvas is not quite covered in some places ; the 
 colours are as fresh as if newly laid on, and the 
 execution is as firm and vigorous as if his hand 
 had just left it. It shews us how this artist 
 wrought. The head is, no doubt, a highly- 
 finished study from nature, done for a particular 
 purpose, and worked up according to the 
 painter’s conception, but still retaining all the 
 force and truth of individuality. He got all he 
 could from Nature, and gave all he could to her 
 in return. If Raphael had merely sketched this 
 divine face on the canvas from the idea in his 
 own mind, why not stamp it on the larger com¬ 
 position at once ? He could work it up and 
 refine upon it there just as well, and it would 
 almost necessarily undergo some alteration in 
 being transferred thither afterwards. But if it 
 was done as a careful copy from Nature in the 
 first instance, the present was the only way in 
 which he could proceed, or indeed by which he 
 could arrive at such consummate excellence. 
 The head of the Joseph (leaning on the hand and 
 looking down) is fine, but neither so fine as 
 the companion to it, nor is it by any means so 
 elaborately worked up in the sketch before us. 
 
 I am no teller of stories ; but there is one 
 belonging to Burleigh-House, of which I happen 
 to know some of the particulars. The late Earl 
 of Exeter had been divorced from his first wife, 
 a woman of fashion, and of somewhat more 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 127 
 
 gaiety of manners than “lords who love their 
 ladies like.” He determined to seek out a 
 second wife in an humbler sphere of life, and 
 that it should be one who, having no knowledge 
 of his rank, should love him for himself alone. 
 For this purpose, he went and settled incognito 
 (under the name of Mr. Jones) at Hodnet, an 
 obscure village in Shropshire. He made over¬ 
 tures to one or two damsels in the neighbour¬ 
 hood, but they were too knowing to be taken 
 in by him. His manners were not boorish, his 
 mode of life was retired, it was odd how he got 
 his livelihood, and at last, he began to be taken 
 for a highwayman. In this dilemma he turned 
 to Miss Hoggins, the eldest daughter of a small 
 farmer, at whose house he lodged. Miss Hog¬ 
 gins, it might seem, had not been used to romp 
 with the clowns ; there was something in the 
 manners of their quiet, but eccentric guest that 
 she liked. As he found that he had inspired 
 her with that kind of regard which he wished 
 for, he made honourable proposals to her, and 
 at the end of some months, they were married, 
 without his letting her know who he was. They 
 set off in a post-chaise from her father’s house, 
 and travelled homewards across the country. 
 In this manner they arrived at Stamford, and 
 passed through the town without stopping, till 
 they came to the entrance of Burleigh-Park, 
 which is on the outside of it. The gates flew 
 open, the chaise entered, and drove up the 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 149 
 
 nation to themselves. When we say that Hogarth 
 treated his subjects historically, we mean that 
 his works represent the manners and humours of 
 mankind inaction, and their characters by varied 
 expression. Every thing in his pictures has life 
 and motion in it. Not only does the business of 
 the scene never stand still, but every feature and 
 muscle is put into full play; the exact feeling of 
 the moment is brought out, and carried to its 
 utmost height, and then instantly seized and 
 stamped on the canvas for ever. The expression 
 is always taken en passant, in a state of progress 
 or change, and, as it were, at the salient point. 
 Besides the excellence of each individual face, 
 the reflection of the expression from face to face, 
 the contrast and struggle of particular motives 
 and feelings in the different actors in the scene, 
 as of anger, contempt, laughter, compassion, are 
 conveyed in the happiest and most lively manner. 
 His figures are not like the back-ground on 
 which they are painted : even the pictures on the 
 wall have a peculiar look of their own.—Again, 
 with the rapidity, variety, and scope of history, 
 Hogarth’s heads have all the reality and correct¬ 
 ness of portraits. He gives the extremes of 
 character and expression, but he gives them with 
 perfect truth and accuracy. This is, in fact, what 
 distinguishes his compositions from all others of 
 the same kind, that they are equally remote from 
 caricature, and from mere still life. It of course 
 happens in subjects from common life that the 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 159 
 
 ever, prefer these models of habitual grace or 
 internal grandeur to the violent distortions of 
 suffering in the Laocoon, or even to the su¬ 
 percilious air of the Apollo. The Niobe, more 
 than any other antique head, combines truth and 
 beauty with deep passion. But here the passion 
 is fixed, intense, habitual;—it is not a sudden or 
 violent gesticulation, but a settled mould of 
 features ■, the grief it expresses is such as mighi 
 almost turn the human countenance itself into 
 marble! 
 
 In general, then, I would be understood to 
 maintain that the beauty and grandeur so much 
 admired in the Greek statues were not a volun¬ 
 tary fiction of the brain of the artist, but existed 
 substantially in the forms from which they were 
 copied, and by which the artist was surrounded. 
 A striking authority in support of these obser¬ 
 vations, which has in some measure been lately 
 discovered, is to be found in the Elgin Marbles, 
 taken from the Acropolis at Athens, and supposed 
 to be the works of the celebrated Phidias. The 
 process of fastidious refinement and indefinite 
 abstraction is certainly not visible there. The 
 figures have all the ease, the simplicity, and va¬ 
 riety, of individual nature. Even the details of 
 the subordinate parts, the loose hanging folds in 
 the skin, the veins under the belly or on the sides 
 of the horses, more or less swelled as the animal 
 is more or less in action, are given with scrupu¬ 
 lous exactness. This is true nature and true art 
 
162 
 
 OM THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 ant] intense feeling of what is beautiful and grand 
 in nature. It is no wonder that Sir Joshua, when 
 he first saw Raphael’s pictures in the Vatican, 
 was at a loss to discover any great excellence 
 in them, if he was looking out for his theory 
 of the ideal ,—of neutral character and middle 
 forms. 
 
 There is more an appearance of abstract gran¬ 
 deur of form in Michael Angelo. He has fol¬ 
 lowed up, has enforced, and expanded, as it were, 
 a preconceived idea, till he sometimes seems to 
 tread on the verge of caricature. His forms, 
 however, are not middle, but extreme forms, 
 massy, gigantic, supernatural. They convey the 
 idea of the greatest size in the figure, and in all 
 the parts of the figure. Every muscle is swollen 
 and turgid. This tendency to exaggeration 
 would have been avoided if Michael Angelo had 
 recurred more constantly to nature, and had pro¬ 
 ceeded less on a scientific knowledge of the 
 structure of the human body; for science gives 
 only the positive form of the different parts, 
 which the imagination may afterwards magnify 
 as it pleases, but it is nature alone which com¬ 
 bines them with perfect truth and delicacy, in all 
 the varieties of motion and expression. It is 
 fortunate tnat I can refer, in illustration of my 
 doctrine, to the admirable fragment of the The¬ 
 seus at Lord Elgin's, which shows the possibility 
 of uniting the grand and natural style in the 
 highest degree. The form of the limbs, as af- 
 
192 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 What landscape-painter does not feel this of 
 Claude ?* 
 
 I have heard an anecdote, connected with the 
 reputation of Gainsborough’s pictures, which 
 rests on pretty good authority. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, at one of the Academy dinners, speak¬ 
 ing of Gainsborough, said to a friend, “ He is 
 undoubtedly the best English landscape-painter.” 
 “ No,” said Wilson, who overheard the con¬ 
 versation, “ he is not the best landscape-painter, 
 but he is the best portrait-painter in England.” 
 They were both wrong; but the story is credit¬ 
 able to the versatility of Gainsborough’s talents. 
 Those of his portraits which we have seen are 
 not in the first rank. They are, in a good mea¬ 
 sure, imitations of Vandyke, and have more an 
 air of gentility than of nature.t His landscapes 
 
 * This painter’s book of studies from nature, commonly 
 called ‘ Liber Veritatis,’ disproves the truth of the general 
 opinion that his landscapes are mere artificial com¬ 
 positions, for the finished pictures are nearly fac-similes 
 of the original sketches. 
 
 f Gainsborough's Portrait of a Youth, that used to be 
 in Lord Grosvenor’s collection, has been sometimes mis¬ 
 taken for a Vandyke. There is a spirited glow of youth 
 about the face, and the attitude is striking and elegant. 
 The drapery of blue satin is admirably painted. His 
 Portrait of Garrick is interesting as a piece of biography. 
 He looks much more like a gentleman than in Reynolds’s 
 tragi-comic representation of him. There is a consider¬ 
 able lightness and intelligence in the expression of the 
 face, and a piercing vivacity about the eyes, to which the 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 205 
 
 one or two observations on the character and 
 feeling displayed in them. The highest subject 
 which Sir Joshua has attempted was the Count 
 Ugolino, and it was, as might be expected from 
 the circumstances, a total failure. He had, it 
 seems, painted a study of an old beggar-man’s 
 head; and some person, who must have known 
 as little of painting as of poetry, persuaded the 
 unsuspecting artist that it was the exact expres¬ 
 sion of Dante’s Count Ugolino, one of the most 
 grand, terrific, and appalling characters in modern 
 fiction. Reynolds, who knew nothing of the 
 matter but what he was told, took his good for¬ 
 tune for granted, and only extended his canvas 
 to admit the rest of the figures. The attitude 
 and expression of Count Ugolino himself are 
 what the artist intended them to be, till they 
 were pampered into something else by the offi¬ 
 cious vanity of friends, — those of a common 
 mendicant at the corner of a street, waiting pa¬ 
 tiently for some charitable donation. The im¬ 
 agination of the painter took refuge in a parish 
 workhouse, instead of ascending the steps of the 
 Tower of Famine. The hero of Dante is a lofty, 
 high-minded, and unprincipled Italian nobleman, 
 who had betrayed his country to the enemy, and 
 who, as a punishment for his crime, is shut up 
 with his four sons in the dungeon of the citadel, 
 where he shortly finds the doors barred upon 
 him, and food withheld. He in vain watches 
 with eager feverish eye the opening of the door 
 
224 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 all that was done ready to their hands by the 
 ancients, when they possess a double advantage 
 over them, and have not nature only to form 
 themselves upon, but nature and the antique ? 
 
 In Italy the art of painting has had the same 
 fate. After its long and painful struggles in 
 the time of the earliest artists, Cimabue, Ghir¬ 
 landaio, Massaccio, &c., it bursts out into a light 
 too dazzling to behold, in the works of Titian, 
 Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Correggio ; which 
 was reflected with diminished lustre in the pro¬ 
 ductions of their immediate disciples ; lingered 
 for a while with the school of Domenichino and 
 the Caraccis, and expired with Guido Reni; for 
 with him disappears 
 
 “ the last of those bright days 
 That on the unsteady breeze of honour sailed 
 In long procession, calm and beautiful.'’ 
 
 Champion, 1815. 
 
 From that period, painting sunk to so low a 
 state in Italy as to excite only pity or contempt. 
 There is not a single name to redeem its faded 
 glory from utter oblivion. Yet this has not been 
 owing to any want of Dilettanti and Della Crus- 
 can Societies, of Academies of Florence, of Bo¬ 
 logna, of Parma, and Pisa, of honorary members, 
 and foreign correspondents, —• of pupils and 
 teachers, professors and patrons, and the whole 
 busy tribe of critics and connoisseurs. Art will 
 not be constrained by mastery, but at sight of 
 the formidable array prepared to receive it 
 Spreads it light wings, and in a moment flies. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 235 
 
 and that the opinion of those few persons whom 
 nature intended for judges is drowned in the 
 noisy decisions of shallow smatterers in taste. 
 
 The principle of universal suffrage, however 
 applicable to matters of government, which 
 concern the common feelings and common in¬ 
 terests of society, is by no means so to matters 
 of taste, which can only be decided upon by 
 the most refined understandings. It is throwing 
 down the barriers which separate knowledge and 
 feeling from ignorance and vulgarity, and pro¬ 
 claiming a Bartholomew-fair shew of fine arts,— 
 
 “ And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” 
 
 The public taste is, therefore, necessarily 
 vitiated, in proportion as it is public ; it is 
 lowered with every infusion it receives of 
 common opinion. The greater the number of 
 judges, the less capable must they be of judging, 
 for the addition to the humber of good ones 
 will always be small, while the multitude of 
 bad ones is endless, and thus the decay of art 
 may be said to be the necessary consequence 
 of its progress. 
 
 Can there be a greater confirmation of these 
 remarks than to look at the texture of that 
 assemblage of select critics who every year 
 visit the exhibition at Somerset House from all 
 parts of the metropolis of this United Kingdom? 
 Is it at all wonderful that, for such a succession 
 of connoisseurs, such a collection of works of 
 art should be provided; where the eye in vain 
 
ON THE ELGIN WARBLES. 
 
 261 
 
 and we naturally sympathise with him. This * 
 craving after quantity is a morbid affection. A 
 landscape is not an architectural elevation. You 
 may build a house as high as you can lift up 
 stones with pulleys and levers, but you cannot 
 raise mountains into the sky merely with the 
 pencil. They lose probability and effect by 
 striving at too much ; and with their ceaseless 
 throes, oppress the imagination of the spectator, 
 and bury the artist’s fame under them. The only 
 error of these pictures is that art here puts on 
 her seven-league boots, and thinks it possible to 
 steal a march upon nature. Mr. Martin might 
 make Arthur’s Seat sublime, if he chose to take 
 the thing as it is ; but he would be for squaring 
 it according to the mould in his own imagination, 
 and for clapping another Arthur’s Seat on the 
 top of it, to make the Calton Hill stare ! 
 
 Again, with respect to the human figure. 
 This has an internal structure, muscles, bones, 
 blood-vessels, &c., by means of which the ex¬ 
 ternal surface is operated upon according to 
 certain laws. Does the artist, with all his 
 generalizations, understand these as well as na¬ 
 ture does ? Can he predict, with all his learn¬ 
 ing, that, if a certain muscle is drawn up in 
 a particular manner, it will present a particu¬ 
 lar appearance in a different part of the arm 
 or leg, or bring out other muscles, which were 
 before hid, with certain modifications ? But in 
 nature all this is brought about by necessary 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 273 
 
 difficulty to overcome, viz. in the rapid glance 
 over a number of parts subject to the simul¬ 
 taneous action of the same law, and in the scope 
 of feeling required to sympathize with the critical 
 and powerful movements of passion. It requires 
 greater capacity of muscular motion to follow 
 the progress of a carriage in violent motion, than 
 to lean upon it standing still. If, to describe 
 passion, it were merely necessary to observe its 
 outward effects, these, perhaps, in the prominent 
 points, become more visible and more tangible 
 as the passion is more intense. But it is not only 
 necessary to see the effects, but to discern the 
 cause, in order to make the one true to the other. 
 No painter gives more of intellectual or impas¬ 
 sioned appearances than he understands or feels. 
 It is an axiom in painting, that sympathy is in¬ 
 dispensable to truth of expression. Without it 
 you get only caricatures, which are not the thing. 
 But to sympathise with passion, a greater fund 
 of sensibility is demanded in proportion to the 
 strength or tenderness of the passion. And as 
 he feels most of this whose face expresses most 
 passion, so he also feels most by sympathy whose 
 hand can describe most passion. This amounts 
 nearly, we take it, to a demonstration of an old 
 and very disputed point. The same reasoning 
 might be applied to poetry, but this is not the 
 place. 
 
 Again, it is easier to paint a portrait than an 
 historical face, because the head sits for the first. 
 
 T 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 281 
 
 perhaps, have to recur to it again, and shall leave 
 an opening for that purpose. 
 
 7. That grace is the beautiful or harmonious in 
 what relates to position or motion. 
 
 There needs not much be said on this point; 
 as we apprehend it will be granted that, whatever 
 beauty is as to the form, grace is the same thing 
 in relation to the use that is made of it. Grace, 
 in writing, relates to the transitions that are 
 made from one subject to another, or to the 
 movement that is given to a passage. If one 
 thing leads to another, or an idea or illustration 
 is brought in without effect, or without making 
 a boggle in the mind, we call this a graceful style. 
 Transitions must in general be gradual and 
 pieced together. But sometimes the most vio¬ 
 lent are the most graceful, when the mind is 
 fairly tired out and exhausted with a subject, 
 and is glad to leap to another as a repose and 
 relief from the first. Of these there are frequent 
 instances in Mr. Burke’s writings, which have 
 something Pindaric in them. That which is not 
 beautiful in itself, or in the mere form, may be 
 made so by position or motion. A figure by no 
 means elegant may be put in an elegant position. 
 Mr. Kean’s figure is not good ■, yet we have seen 
 him throw himself into attitudes of infinite spirit, 
 dignity, and grace. John Kemble’s figure, on 
 the contrary, is fine in itself; and he has only to 
 show himself to be admired. The direction in 
 which any thing is moved has evidently nothing 
 
FOXTKU.X. ABBEY. 
 
 285 
 
 sian tapestry—all the splendour of Solomon’s 
 Temple is displayed to the view—in miniature 
 whatever is far-fetched and dear-bought, rich 
 in the materials, or rare and difficult in the work¬ 
 manship-—but scarce one genuine work of art, 
 one solid proof of taste, one lofty relic of senti¬ 
 ment or imagination! 
 
 The difficult, the unattainable, the exclusive, 
 are to be found here in profusion, in perfection ; 
 all else is wanting, or is brought in merely as a 
 foil or as a stop-gap. In this respect the collec¬ 
 tion is as satisfactory as it is unique. The spe- 
 mens exhibited are the best, the most highly 
 finished, the most costly and curious, of that 
 kind of ostentatious magnificence which is cal¬ 
 culated to gratify the sense of property in the 
 owner, and to excite the wondering curiosity 
 of the stranger, who is permitted to see or (as 
 a choice privilege and favour) even to touch 
 baubles so dazzling and of such exquisite nicety 
 of execution ; and which, if broken or defaced, 
 it would be next to impossible to replace. The 
 same character extends to the pictures, which 
 are mere furniture-pictures, remarkable chiefly 
 for their antiquity or painful finishing, without 
 beauty, without interest, and with about the same 
 pretensions to attract the eye or delight the fancy 
 as a well-polished mahogany table or a waxed 
 oak-floor. Not one great work by one great name, 
 scarce one or two of the worst specimens of the 
 first masters, Lionardo’s Laughing Boy, or a copy 
 
288 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 author of Vathek is a scholar; the proprietor 
 of Fonthill has travelled abroad, and has seen 
 all the finest remains of antiquity and boasted 
 specimens of modern art. Why not lay his hands 
 on some of these ? He had power to carry them 
 away. One might have expected to see, at least, 
 a few fine old pictures, marble copies of the 
 celebrated statues, the Apollo, the Venus, the 
 Dying Gladiator, the Antinous, antique vases with 
 their elegant sculptures, or casts from them, 
 coins, medals, bas-reliefs, something connected 
 with the beautiful forms of external nature, or 
 with what is great in the mind or memorable 
 in the history of man,—Egyptian hieroglyphics, 
 or Chaldee manuscripts on paper made of the 
 reeds of the Nile, or mummies from the Pyra¬ 
 mids ! Not so; not a trace (or scarcely so) of 
 any of these ;—as little as may be of what is 
 classical or imposing to the imagination from 
 association or well - founded prejudice ; hardly 
 an article of any consequence that does not seem 
 to be labelled to the following effect— This is 
 mine, and there is no one else in the whole world 
 in whom it can inspire the least interest, or any 
 feeling beyond a momentary surprise! To show 
 another your property is an act in itself ungra¬ 
 cious, or null and void. It excites no pleasure 
 from sympathy. Every one must have remarked 
 the difference in his feelings on entering a ve¬ 
 nerable old cathedral, for instance, and a modern 
 built private mansion. The one seems to fill 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 325 
 
 ' If the ancient sculptors had had nothing- but 
 such maxims and contemplations as these to 
 assist them in forming their statues, they would 
 have been greatly to seek indeed ! Take these 
 homilies on the Beautiful and the Good, together 
 with Euclid’s Elements, into any country town 
 in England, and see if you can make a modern 
 Athens of it. The Greek artists did not learn to 
 put expression into their works, because Socrates 
 had said that ‘ statuary must represent the emo¬ 
 tions of the soul by formbut he said that 
 they ought to do so because he had seen it done 
 by Phidias and others. It was from the diligent 
 study and contemplation of the ‘ choicest forms 
 of nature,’ and from the natural love of beauty 
 and grandeur in the human breast, and not from 
 ‘shreds and patches’ of philosophy, that they 
 drew their conceptions of Gods and Men. Let 
 us not, however, be thought hard on the meta¬ 
 physics of the ancients : they were the first to 
 propose these questions, and to feel the curiosity 
 and the earnest desire to know what the beautiful 
 and the good meant. If the will was not tanta¬ 
 mount to the deed, it was scarcely their fault ) 
 and perhaps, instead of blaming their partial 
 success, we ought rather to take shame to our¬ 
 selves for the little progress we have made, and 
 the dubious light that has been shed upon such 
 questions since. If the professor of sculpture 
 had sought for the principles of beauty in the 
 antique statues, instead of the scholia of the 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 iv 
 
 No. 
 
 131. 
 
 132. 
 
 133. 
 
 134. 
 
 135. 
 
 136. 
 137- 
 138. 
 139- 
 
 140. 
 
 141. 
 
 142. 
 
 143. 
 
 144. 
 
 145. 
 
 146. 
 
 147. 
 
 148. 
 
 149. 
 
 150. 
 
 151. 
 
 152. 
 
 153. 
 
 154. 
 
 155. 
 
 156. 
 
 157. 
 
 158. 
 159- 
 160 . 
 
 161. 
 
 162, 
 
 163. 
 
 164. 
 
 165. 
 
 166. 
 
 167. 
 
 168. 
 
 169. 
 
 170. 
 
 171 . 
 
 172 . 
 
 173. 
 
 174. 
 
 175. 
 
 176 . 
 
 177 - 
 
 178. 
 
 179 . 
 
 180. 
 181. 
 182. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Christ healing the Sick in the Temple 
 
 The Last Supper. 
 
 Portrait of Mr. Smith, the Actor. 
 
 A Landscape, with building and figures 
 
 Ruins and Figures... 
 
 Portrait of Mrs. Robertson . 
 
 Landscape with Figures. 
 
 Ruins, with Figures . 
 
 Religion attended by the Virtues .... 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 iEneas presenting himself before Dido 
 
 John Kemble as Hamlet . 
 
 Portrait of Lord Ligonier. 
 
 Portrait of Benj. West, P. R. A. 
 
 A Man’s Portrait. 
 
 View of Rotterdam. 
 
 Cephalus and Aurora. 
 
 Galatea. 
 
 A Calm at Sea. 
 
 A Gale at Sea .. 
 
 Leda . 
 
 A Landscape—Evening. 
 
 The Cradle . 
 
 A Musical Party. 
 
 The Misers . 
 
 A Study of Horses. 
 
 A Landscape—Sunset. 
 
 Dutch Boors Regaling. 
 
 A Dutch Housewife. 
 
 The Repose. 
 
 A Landscape, with a Cascade. 
 
 The Infant Samuel. 
 
 A View on the Grand Canal, Venice .. 
 
 The Holy Family. 
 
 The Plague at Ashdod. 
 
 Portrait of a Capuchin Friar. 
 
 The Adoration of the Kings. 
 
 St. Catherine (of Alexandria) . 
 
 St. Francis adoring the Infant Christ.. 
 
 The Holy Family, St. John &c. 
 
 Portrait of John Soane, Architect .... 
 Christ and his disciples at Emmaus .. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman. 
 
 Portrait of a Cardinal. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman; by some l 
 
 said to be Milton./ 
 
 St. John. 
 
 The Magdalen. 
 
 Serena rescued by the Red Cross \ 
 
 Knight, Sir Calepine./ 
 
 The Virgin, Child, and St. John. 
 
 Dead Christ, Virgin, and Angels .... 
 
 The Virgin, Child, and St. John. 
 
 Studies of Angels. 
 
 West. 
 
 Hoppncr. 
 
 Decker. 
 
 Cana/etti. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Van Goyen. 
 
 Paulo Panini. 
 
 A. Kauffman. 
 
 Vander Heist. 
 Steenwyck. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Vander Heist. 
 
 Storck. 
 
 Annibal Carucci. 
 Agostino Caracci. 
 William Vundei'velde. 
 
 Mola. 
 
 Vander neer. 
 
 Maes. 
 
 D. Teniers, the younger. 
 
 Vandyke. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 D .Teniers,the younger 
 Maes. 
 
 Mola. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Cunaletti. 
 
 Jacob Jordaem ?. 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Baldassare Peruzzi. 
 Raphael. 
 
 Mazzolino da Ferrara. 
 Garofolo. 
 
 Jo/m Jackson . 
 Caravaggio. 
 
 Jl Bassano. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
 Vander Plans. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Guido Re7ii. 
 
 William Hilton. 
 Francesco Francia. 
 
 Pietro Perugino. 
 Reynolds. 
 
xxviii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title ot Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 761. 
 
 762 . 
 
 763. 
 
 764. 
 
 765. 
 
 766 . 
 
 767 . 
 
 768. 
 
 The Destruction of Popery by the") 
 
 Evangelists ./ 
 
 Chiron instructing Achilles in the Use ■) 
 
 of the Bow .J 
 
 Judith with the Head of Holofernes .. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Still Life . 
 
 An Encampment. 
 
 King of Prussia . 
 
 The Judgment of Paris. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Roestraten. 
 Vander Meulen. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 THE CARTOONS. 
 
 76 9. 
 
 770. 
 
 771. 
 
 772. 
 
 773. 
 
 774. 
 
 775. 
 
 The Death of Ananias . 
 
 Elymas the Sorcerer. 
 
 Peter and John at the Gate Beautiful 
 The Miraculous Draught of Fishes ... 
 
 Paul and Barnabas at Lystra . 
 
 Paul preaching at Athens .. 
 
 Christ’s Charge to Peter ... 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 776. 
 
 777. 
 
 778. 
 
 779. 
 
 780 . 
 
 781. 
 
 782 . 
 
 783. 
 
 784. 
 
 785. 
 
 786 . 
 
 787. 
 
 788 . 
 
 789. 
 
 790. 
 
 791. 
 
 792. 
 
 793. 
 
 794. 
 
 795. 
 
 796. 
 
 797. 
 
 798. 
 
 799. 
 
 800. 
 801. 
 802. 
 803. 
 
 A Chalk Drawing on Paper of Ra¬ 
 phael’s celebrated Picture of the 
 Transfiguration. 
 
 John Lacy, a Comedian in the reign \ 
 
 of Charles II./ 
 
 The Tomb of Lord Darnley. 
 
 A Battle Piece. 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 Magdalen. 
 
 Louis XIV. on horseback. 
 
 Judith with the Head of Holofernes .. 
 The Interview of Henry V. with the 
 
 Princess of France./ 
 
 A Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 The Palace of Prince Maurice of Nas- 'i 
 
 sau, at Cleves ./ 
 
 The Marriage of Henry V. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Susanna and the Elders. 
 
 Interior of a Church. 
 
 St. Peter in Prison. 
 
 Lot and his daughters . 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 A Lady and Gentleman. 
 
 Diana .... 
 
 Joseph interpreting the Dream of the \ 
 
 Chief Butler and Baker.J 
 
 A Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 THE PORTRAIT GALLERY. 
 
 Wright. 
 
 L. de Heere. 
 Bourgognone . 
 Parcelles. 
 Lely. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Kent. 
 
 Bassano. 
 Oldenburg. 
 Kent. 
 
 Sir P. Lely. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Steenwiclc. 
 Anonymous. 
 [After] Guido. 
 Parcelles. 
 Giorgione. 
 [After] Titian. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 I William, Prince of Orange 
 
 Dobson and his Wife. 
 
 i Mary, Queen of James II... 
 
 Admiral Lord Keith . 
 
 | Lord Hutchinson.. 
 
 | Spencer Percival .. 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 Dobson. 
 
 Verelsl. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 T. Philips , R. A. 
 Joseph. 
 
20 . 
 
 21 . 
 
 22 . 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 
 26 . 
 
 2 /. 
 
 28. 
 
 29 . 
 
 30. 
 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 
 33. 
 
 34. 
 
 35. 
 
 36. 
 
 37 - 
 
 38. 
 
 39. 
 
 40. 
 
 41 . 
 
 42. 
 
 43. 
 
 44. 
 
 45. 
 
 46. 
 
 47 . 
 
 48. 
 
 49- 
 
 50. 
 
 511 
 
 52. 
 
 63. 
 
 54 
 
 55. 
 
 56. 
 
 57. 
 
 58. 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 Cl 
 
 62 
 
 63 
 
 64 
 
 65 
 
 STOURHEAD. 
 
 xlix 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Mill, near Couven, N. Wales. 
 
 The Broken Pitcher .. 
 
 The Bird’s Nest. 
 
 A Colour-grinder’s Shop . 
 
 Horses in a Stable. 
 
 The Cottage Door .. 
 
 Seub, an old Shooting Pony, and ^ 
 
 Spaniels. J 
 
 Eton, by Moonlight . 
 
 MUSIC ROOM. 
 
 Landscape-—Diana and Aetseon .... ^ 
 
 A Girl talking with her Fingers “ The ■> 
 
 Dumb Alphabet” ... J 
 
 Girl and dead Pheasant. 
 
 Girl and Dove. 
 
 A Child holding a Goldfinch. 
 
 A Scene in the E. Indies. 
 
 Peasant Girl and Lamb in a Storm.... 
 
 Anne, Daughter of H. Hoare . 
 
 Henry Hoare. 
 
 The Car of Cuthillin (Ossian). 
 
 A Stable. 
 
 Cattle... 
 
 The Tomb of Caius Cestius at Rome.. 
 Interior of the Church of St. Peter at "l 
 
 Rome./ 
 
 A Sketch for a Ceiling at Venice. 
 
 The Madonna dell* Sedia.{ 
 
 Our Saviour healing the Blind. 
 
 Indian Costume . 
 
 Head of a Child . 
 
 Beatrice Cenci. 
 
 The St. Peter Martyr (After Titian ) .. 
 
 Peasant Children. 
 
 Boy and Girl and Owl . 
 
 Land and Sea Storm (water-colours).. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 Landscapes ...... 
 
 Rocks and Water . 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 A Landscape, on Paper. 
 
 DINING ROOM. 
 
 f 
 
 Family Portraits.■! 
 
 Boys and Sheep (After Rubens) .... 
 Nymphs....... 
 
 Painted by 
 
 A. W. Callcott. 
 Witherington. 
 
 Bone. 
 
 Pond. 
 
 Collins. 
 
 A. Cooper. 
 Hofland. 
 
 The Landscape by Call- 
 cot t, the Figures by 
 W. Owen. 
 
 Northcote. 
 
 H. Thompson. 
 
 J. Rising. 
 
 S. Woodforde. 
 
 T. Daniell. 
 
 S. Woodforde. 
 
 Owen. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 A. Cooper. 
 
 Norland. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Pietro Bianchi. 
 
 P. Panini. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Prince Hoare y after 
 Raphael. 
 
 Sebastian Ricci. 
 
 T. Daniell. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 [. After ] Guido. 
 
 F. Nola. 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 W. Hilton. 
 
 F. Nicholson. 
 
 Lucatelli. • 
 
 . j 
 
 Horizonte. 
 
 Pietro da Cortona. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 G. Poussin (?) 
 
 Coates. 
 
 W. Hoare. 
 
 A. Kauffman. 
 Coates. 
 
 W. Hoare . 
 
 d 
 
LONGFORD CASTLE, 
 
 lvii 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 
 LONG PARLOUR. 
 
 
 14. 
 
 Portrait. 
 
 Mireveldt . 
 
 15. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Momper. 
 
 16. 
 
 Landscape (Shooting Figures). 
 
 Old Teniers. 
 
 17. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Ferg. 
 
 18. 
 
 Strolling Fortune tellers . 
 
 Linglebach. 
 
 19- 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Ferg. 
 
 20. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 21. 
 
 Stable with Travellers. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 22. 
 
 Harbour, with Shipping . 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 23. 
 
 Sea Piece. 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 
 24. 
 
 Portrait. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 25. 
 
 Dutch Boors at Play. 
 
 Dr Teniers. 
 
 26 . 
 
 Jacob, Earl of Radnor . 
 
 Sir J. Reynolds. 
 
 2/. 
 
 Portrait... 
 
 Dobson. 
 
 28. 
 
 Cupids Harvesting. 
 
 Rumens. 
 
 29- 
 
 Landscape (Moonlight). 
 
 Ruysdael. 
 
 30. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 31. 
 
 Portrait of Himself . 
 
 Old D. Teniers. 
 
 32. 
 
 Sea Storm. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 33. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Wynants. 
 
 34. 
 
 Portrait of a Female. 
 
 Cornelius Janssen. 
 
 35. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 36. 
 
 Portrait of Mr. Kingsmill . 
 
 C. Janssen. 
 
 37. 
 
 Landscape (Tivoli). 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 
 DRAWING ROOM. 
 
 
 38. 
 
 Portrait of Prince of Oranee. 
 
 Mireveldt. 
 
 109. 
 
 Portrait of Rembrandt (small). 
 
 B. Biscar. 
 
 39. 
 
 Portrait of a Countess of Wincheisea.. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 40. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Anthony Denny. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 41. 
 
 Martinius Rychart. 
 
 Vandyck . 
 
 42. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 43. 
 
 Philip, Landgrave of Hesse . 
 
 Mireveldt. 
 
 94. 
 
 Female holding a Pear. 
 
 B, Biscar. 
 
 76. 
 
 Erasmus. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 95. 
 
 Carlo Dolce holding his own Portrait.. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 80. 
 
 Egidius. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 
 CHAPEL. 
 
 
 44. 
 
 Grand Altar Piece . 
 
 Albert Durer. 
 
 45. 
 
 
 
 46. 
 
 Door to Altar Piece. 
 
 ___ 
 
 47 . 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Parmegiano . 
 
 48. 
 
 Christ and the Woman of Samaria .. 
 
 Costangi. 
 
 49. 
 
 The Resurrection . 
 
 Sebastian Ricci. 
 
 50. 
 
 Wise Men’s Offering .. 
 
 A. Durer. 
 
 51. 
 
 
 
 52. 
 
 St. Cecilia ..... 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 53. 
 
 Ecce Homo. 
 
 Costangi. 
 
 54. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 C . Maratti. 
 
 55. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and St. John. 
 
 Garafolo. 
 
 66. 
 
 Descent from the Cross. 
 
 Rothenhamer. 
 
 57. 
 
 Joseph’s Flight into Egypt. 
 
 J. Brueghel. 
 
lviii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 58. 
 
 59 . 
 
 60 . 
 
 61. 
 
 62 . 
 
 63. 
 
 64. 
 
 66 . 
 
 67. 
 
 68 . 
 
 69. 
 
 70. 
 
 71. 
 
 72. 
 
 74. 
 
 102 . 
 
 75. 
 
 73. 
 144. 
 
 79- 
 
 77. 
 
 78. 
 81. 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 160 . 
 
 87. 
 
 88 . 
 
 89. 
 
 90. 
 
 91. 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 142. 
 
 143. 
 
 96. 
 
 97. 
 
 98. 
 
 99- 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 . 
 
 86 . 
 
 103. 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106. 
 
 107. 
 
 108. 
 65. 
 
 110 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 Title of Picturo 
 
 Punted by 
 
 Holy Family... 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 JLNTI-CHAPEL. 
 
 Portrait of Cornelius Janssen . 
 
 Landscape... 
 
 Diana and Nymphs (Sketch) . 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Calvin, the Reformer. 
 
 Strolling Players No. 1. 
 
 St. John in the Desert . 
 
 Strolling Players No. 2. 
 
 Beza, the Reformer. 
 
 ZEcolampadius. 
 
 Travellers . 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 King Charles I. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Portrait. 
 
 Queen of Charles I. 
 
 Sir A. Denny (very small). 
 
 Samuel Anointing David. 
 
 Woman at Confession . 
 
 Piazza di S. Marco, Venice. 
 
 Prince of Orange. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 St. John pointing to The Lamb. 
 
 View on the Dutch Coast. 
 
 Charles V. Emperor of Germany. 
 
 Bird’s-eye view of Fontainbleau and 1 
 
 environs ./ 
 
 Prince of Orange. 
 
 Madonna at Prayer. 
 
 Christ on the road to Emmaus. 
 
 Dutch Fair . 
 
 Count d'Egmont... 
 
 Portrait of Lady Cary, who died for "l 
 
 Love of Edward III./ 
 
 Landscape, with Bathers. 
 
 Venice . 
 
 Portrait (said to be) of Mary, Queen | 
 
 John Selden. 
 
 Fruit-Tankard and Flowers. 
 
 Female Portrait . 
 
 Dutch Boors quarrelling . 
 
 Figures Bathing. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 King Edward VI. 
 
 Henry VIlI’s Children. 
 
 Ruth and Naomi. 
 
 Battle- Piece. 
 
 Flower-Piece. 
 
 Battle Piece. 
 
 Prince of Orange. 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 G. Roncuud. 
 
 V. H. Janssen. 
 
 J. Brueghel . 
 Rubens. 
 
 Vanuden • 
 
 Mala. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Collet. 
 
 Ant unison. 
 
 Collet. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Brueghel. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
 Vanuden 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Wynunts. 
 Tintoretto, 
 Vandyck. 
 
 HotbJn. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Hemskerck. 
 
 Cnliaoari. 
 
 Mire veldt. 
 
 Sebastian del Ricci . 
 Romanelli. 
 
 Van Cleve. 
 
 Ant. More . 
 
 Old Petit. 
 
 Cs. de Moan. 
 
 Sasso Fcrrato. 
 Romanelli. 
 Wouvermans. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Holbein . 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 Caliavari. 
 
 Zuccaro . 
 
 C. Janssen. 
 
 J. de Herm. 
 Anonymous. 
 Teniers. 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Mola. 
 
 J. van Ravesteyn . 
 Holbein. 
 
 J. de Mabuse. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Borgognone. 
 
 Velvet Brueghel . 
 Borgognone. 
 Ravesteyn . 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 ——— 
 
 In preparing the present republication of 
 the Criticisms upon the Picture Galleries 
 of England, I have carefully corrected all 
 the references to the pictures described, ac¬ 
 cording to the latest arrangement of each 
 particular Gallery; and I have here and 
 there ventured to append an illustrative or 
 corrective note, where such seemed to be 
 required as to a matter of fact. 
 
 In preparing the Appendix of Catalogues, 
 also, I have taken the utmost pains to 
 obtain the enumeration of the pictures in 
 each case, according to their actual position 
 at the present moment, adopting in every 
 
18 
 
 MB, ANGERSTEIn’s COLLECTION. 
 
 plainly) something old-womanish about them. 
 By their obsolete and affected air, they remind 
 one of antiquated ladies of quality, and are a 
 kind of Duchess-Dowagers in the art—some¬ 
 where between the living and the dead. 
 
 Hogarth’s series of the Marriage-cl-la-Mode 
 [113-118], (the most delicately painted of all his 
 pictures, and admirably they certainly are paint¬ 
 ed,) concludes the Catalogue Raisonnde of this 
 Collection.*—A study of Heads, by Correggio 
 [37], and some of Mr. Fuseli’s stupendous figures 
 from his Milton Gallery, are on the staircase. 
 
 * The reader will find an essay on this subject in the 
 present volume. 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 
 
 47 
 
 national character lurked amidst unrivalled ex¬ 
 cellence. If Claude has a fault, it is that he is 
 finical; and Poussin’s figures might be said by 
 a satirist to be antique puppets. To proceed to 
 our task.— 
 
 The first picture that struck us on entering 
 the Marquis of Stafford’s Gallery (a little bewil¬ 
 dered as we were with old recollections and 
 present objects) was the Meeting of Christ and 
 St. John, one of Raphael’s master-pieces. The 
 eager “ child-worship ” of the young St. John, 
 the modest retirement and dignified sweetness 
 of the Christ, and the graceful, matron-like air of 
 the Virgin bending over them, full and noble, 
 yet feminine and elegant, cannot be surpassed. 
 No words can describe them to those who have 
 not seen the picture :—the attempt is still vainer 
 to those who have. There is, however, a very 
 fine engraving of this picture, which may be 
 had for a trifling sum.—No glory is around the 
 head of the Mother, nor is it needed : but the 
 soul of the painter sheds its influence over it like 
 a dove, and the spirit of love, sanctity, beauty, 
 breathes from the divine group. There are four 
 Raphaels (Holy Families) in this collection, two 
 others by the side of this in his early more 
 precise and affected manner, somewhat faded, 
 and a small one of the Virgin, Sleeping Jesus, and 
 St. John, in his finest manner. There is, or 
 there was, a duplicate of this picture (of which 
 the engraving is also common) in the Louvre, 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 49 
 
 of children in the corner, we suppose, for care¬ 
 less freedom of pencil, and a certain milky soft¬ 
 ness of the flesh, it can scarcely be parallelled. 
 Over the three Raphaels is a Danae, by Annibal 
 Caracci, which we used to adore where it was 
 hung on high in the Orleans Gallery. The face 
 is fine, up-turned, expectant; and the figure no 
 less fine, desirable, ample, worthy of a God.— 
 The golden shower is just seen descending ; the 
 landscape at a distance has (so fancy might in¬ 
 terpret) a cold, shuddering aspect. There is 
 another very fine picture of the same hand close 
 by, St. Gregory with Angels. It is difficult to 
 know which to admire most, the resigned and 
 yet earnest expression of the Saint, or the ele¬ 
 gant forms, the graceful attitudes, and bland, 
 cordial, benignant faces of the attendant angels. 
 The artist in these last has evidently hgd an eye 
 to Correggio, both in the waving outline and in 
 the charm of the expression; and he has suc¬ 
 ceeded admirably, but not entirely. Something 
 of the extreme unction of Correggio is wanting. 
 The drawing of Annibal’s Angels is, perhaps, 
 too firm, too sinewy, too masculine. In Cor¬ 
 reggio, the Angel’s spirit seemed to be united to 
 a human body, to imbue, mould, penetrate every 
 part with its sweetness and softness : in Caracci, 
 you would say that a heavenly spirit inhabited, 
 looked out of, moved a goodly human frame. 
 
 And o’er informed the tenement of clay. 
 
 E 
 
STAFFORD S GALLERY. 
 
 53 
 
 We are ashamed of this description, now that 
 we have made it, and heartily wish somebody 
 would make a better. There is another Titian 
 here (which was also in the Orleans Gallery),* 
 Venus rising from the Sea. The figure and face 
 are gracefully designed and sweetly expressed:— 
 whether it is the picture of the Goddess of Love 
 may admit of a question : that it is the picture 
 of a lovely woman, in a lovely attitude, admits 
 of none. The half-shadow, in which most of it 
 is painted, is a kind of veil through which the 
 delicate skin shows more transparent and aeriel. 
 There is nothing in the picture but this single 
 exquisitely turned figure, and if it were continued 
 downward to a whole length, it would seem 
 like a copy of a statue of the Goddess carved in 
 ivory or marble ; but being only a half-length, 
 it has not this effect at all, but looks like an 
 enchanting study, or a part of a larger compo¬ 
 sition, selected a Venvi .—The hair, and the arm 
 holding it up, are nearly the same as in the 
 well - known picture of Titians Mistress, and 
 as delicious. The back-ground is beautifully 
 painted. We said before that there was no ob¬ 
 ject in the picture detached from the principal 
 figure. Nay, there is the sea, and a sea-shell, 
 but these might be given in sculpture. 
 
 * Two thirds of the principal pictures in the Orleans 
 Collection are at present at Stafford-House, and third 
 purchased by the Marquis of Stafford, and another third 
 left by the Duke of Bridgewater, another of the purchasers. 
 Mr. Brian had the remaining third. 
 
64 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 and softness about the eyes; in the clear, de¬ 
 licate complexion, health and sorrow contend 
 for the mastery; the mouth is sweetness itself, 
 the nose highly intelligent, and the forehead is 
 one of “ clear-spirited thought.” But misfortune 
 has touched all this grace and beauty, and left 
 its canker there. This is shown no less by the 
 air that pervades it than by the accompanying 
 emblems. The children in particular are ex¬ 
 quisitely painted, and have an evident reference 
 to those we lately noticed in the Four Ages, by 
 Titian. This portrait, both from the style and 
 subject, reminds one forcibly of Mrs. Hutchin¬ 
 son’s admirable Memoirs of her own Life. Both 
 are equally history, and the history of the female 
 heart (depicted, in the one case, by the pencil, 
 in the other, by the pen,) in the finest age of 
 female accomplishment and pious devotion. 
 
 Look at this portrait, breathing the beauty of 
 virtue, and compare it with the “ Beauties ” of 
 Charles II.’s court, by Lely.* They look just 
 like what they were—a set of kept-mistresses, 
 painted, tawdry, showing off their theatrical or 
 meretricious airs and graces, without one trace 
 of real elegance or refinement, or one spark of 
 sentiment to touch the heart. Lady Grammont 
 is the handsomest of them [H. C. 163] ; and, 
 though the most voluptuous in her attire and 
 attitude, the most decent. The Duchess of 
 
 At Hampton Court. 
 
134 
 
 PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 princely domain, or to the grounds of any other 
 park we know of. The building itself is Gothic, 
 capricious, and not imposing—a conglomeration 
 of pigeon-houses — 
 
 In form resembling a goose-pie— 
 
 but as a receptacle for works of art (with the 
 exception of Cleveland House), it is unrivalled in 
 this country. There is not a bad picture in it : 
 the interest is sustained by rich and noble per¬ 
 formances from first to last. It abounds in 
 Rubens’ works. The old Duchess of Marlborough 
 was fond of the historical pieces of this great 
 painter ; she had, during her husband’s war and 
 negociations in Flanders, a fine opportunity of 
 culling them, “ as one picks pears, saying. This I 
 like, that I like still better: ” and from the se¬ 
 lection she has made, it appears as if she under¬ 
 stood the Master’s genius well. She has chosen 
 those of his works which were most mellow^ 
 and at the same time gorgeous in colouring, 
 most luxuriant in composition, most unctuous 
 in expression. Rubens was the only artist that 
 could have embodied some of our countryman 
 Spenser’s splendid and voluptuous allegories. If 
 a painter among ourselves were to attempt a 
 Spenser Gallery (perhaps the finest subject 
 for the pencil in the world after Heathen Mytho¬ 
 logy and Scripture History), he ought to go and 
 study the principles of his design at Blenheim! 
 —The Silenus and the Rape of Proserpine contain 
 more of the Bacchanalian and lawless spirit of 
 
154 hogarth’s marriage a-la-mode. 
 
 of the Pigs, souse over head into the water, 
 the fine Lady fainting, with vermillion lips, and 
 the two Chimney - sweepers, satirical young 
 rogues ! We had almost forgot the Politician 
 who is burning a hole through his hat with a 
 candle in reading the newspaper ; and the 
 Chickens, in the March to Finchley, wandering 
 in search of their lost dam, who is found in 
 the pocket of the Serjeant. Of the pictures in 
 the Rake’s Progress, in this Collection [Soane 
 Museum 1—8], we shall not here say any thing, 
 because we think them, on the whole, inferior 
 to the prints, and because they have already 
 been criticised by a writer, to whom we could 
 add nothing, in a paper which ought to be read 
 by every lover of Hogarth and of English 
 genius.* 
 
 * An Essay on the Genius of Hogarth, by C. Lamb. 
 
164 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 concisely as possible, what I conceive to be their 
 general and characteristic excellences. The an¬ 
 cients excelled in beauty of form, Michael Angelo 
 in grandeur of conception, Raphael in expression. 
 In Raphael’s faces, particularly his women, the 
 expression is very superior to the form; in the 
 ancient statues the form is the principal thing. 
 The interest which the latter excite is in a man¬ 
 ner external; it depends on a certain grace and 
 lightness of appearance, joined with exquisite 
 symmetry and refined susceptibility to voluptuous 
 emotions ; but there is in general a want of pa¬ 
 thos. In their looks we do not read the wishings 
 of the heart; by their beauty they are deified. 
 The pathos which they exhibit is rather that of 
 present and physical distress than of deep inter¬ 
 nal sentiment. What has been remarked of 
 Leonardo da Vinci is also true of Raphael, that 
 there is an angelic sweetness and tenderness in 
 his faces, in which human frailty and passion are 
 purified by the sanctity of religion. The ancient 
 statues are finer objects for the eye to eontenu- 
 plate; they represent a more perfect race of 
 physical beings, but we have little sympathy 
 with them. In Raphael all our natural sensi¬ 
 bilities are heightened and refined by the senti¬ 
 ments of faith and hope, pointing mysteriously 
 to the interests of another world. The same in¬ 
 tensity of passion appears also to distinguish 
 Raphael from Michael Angelo. Michael Angelo’s 
 forms are grander, but they are not so informed 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 165 
 
 with expression. Raphael’s, however ordinary 
 in themselves, are full of expression, “ even to 
 “ o’erflowing every nerve and muscle is im¬ 
 pregnated with feeling—bursting with meaning. 
 In Michael Angelo, on the contrary, the powers 
 of body and mind appear superior to any events 
 that can happen to them; the capacity of thought 
 and feeling is never full, never strained, or tasked 
 to the extremity of what it will bear. All is in 
 a lofty repose and solitary grandeur, which no 
 human interest can shake or disturb. It has 
 been said that Michael Angelo painted man, and 
 Raphael men; that the one was an epic, the 
 other a dramatic painter. But the distinction I 
 have stated is, perhaps, truer and more intelli¬ 
 gible, viz. that the one gave greater dignity of 
 form, and the other greater force and refinement 
 of expression. Michael Angelo, in fact, borrow¬ 
 ed his style from sculpture. He represented in 
 general only single figures (with subordinate 
 accompaniments), and had not to express the 
 conflicting actions and passions of a multi¬ 
 tude of persons. It is therefore a mere truism 
 to say that his compositions are not dramatic. 
 He is much more picturesque than Raphael. 
 His drawing of the human form has the charac¬ 
 teristic freedom and boldness of Titian’s land¬ 
 scapes. 
 
 After Michael Angelo and Raphael, there is no 
 doubt that Leonardo da Vinci and Correggio are 
 the two painters, in modern times, who have 
 
180 
 
 ON TIIF, FINE ARTS. 
 
 Wilson. I ought not to pass over the names of 
 Murillo and Velasquez, those admirable Spanish 
 painters. It is difficult to characterize their 
 peculiar excellences as distinct from those of the 
 Italian and Dutch schools. They may be said 
 to hold a middle rank between the painters of 
 mind and body. They express not so much 
 thought and sentiment, nor yet the mere exterior, 
 as the life and spirit of the man. Murillo is 
 probably at the head of that class of painters who 
 have treated subjects of common life. After 
 making the colours on the canvas feel and 
 think, the next best thing is to make them 
 breathe and live. But there is in Murillo’s 
 pictures of this kind a look of real life, a cordial 
 flow of native animal spirits, which we find no 
 where else. I might here refer particularly to 
 his picture of the Two Spanish Beggar Boys, in 
 the collection at Dulwich College, which cannot 
 easily be forgotten by those who have ever 
 seen it. 
 
 I come now to treat of the progress of art in 
 Britain. 
 
 I shall first speak of Hogarth, both as he is 
 the first name in the order of time that we have 
 to boast of, and as he is the greatest comic 
 painter of any age or country. His pictures 
 are not imitations of still life, or mere transcripts 
 of incidental scenes or customs ; but powerful 
 moral satires, exposing vice and folly in their 
 most ludicrous points of view, and, with a pro- 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 203 
 
 of this, either peculiar elegance of form, refine¬ 
 ment of expression, delicacy of complexion, or 
 gracefulness of manner. Vandyke’s attitudes 
 have been complained of as stiff and confined. 
 Reynolds, to avoid this defect, has fallen into the 
 contrary extreme of negligence and contortion. 
 His female figures which aim at gentility are 
 twisted into that serpentine line, the idea of 
 which he ridiculed so much in Hogarth. In¬ 
 deed, Sir Joshua, in his ‘Discourses’ (see his 
 account of Correggio), speaks of grace as if it 
 were nearly allied to affectation. Grace signifies 
 that which is pleasing and natural in the posture 
 and motions of the human form, as beauty is 
 more properly applied to the form itself. That 
 which is stiff, inanimate, and without motion, 
 cannot therefore be graceful; but to suppose that 
 a figure, to be graceful, need only be put into some 
 languishing or extravagant posture, is to mistake 
 flutter and affectation for ease and elegance. 
 
 Sir Joshua’s children, as I have said above, are 
 among his chefs-d'ceuvre. The faces of children 
 have in general that want of precision of outline, 
 that prominence of relief and strong contrast of 
 colour, which were peculiarly adapted to his style 
 of painting. The arch simplicity of expression, 
 and the grotesque character which he has given 
 to the heads of his children, were, however, bor¬ 
 rowed from Correggio. His Puck is the most 
 masterly of all these and the colouring, execu¬ 
 tion, and character, are alike exquisite. The 
 
9A0 
 
 ON THE FINE AKTS. 
 
 proceeded entirely on this principle. He lef 
 many admirable studies of portraits, particularly 
 in what relates to the disposition and effect 
 of light and shade; but he never finished 
 any of the parts, thinking them beneath the 
 attention of a great artist. He went over the 
 whole head the second day as he had done the 
 first, and therefore made no progress. The pic¬ 
 tures, at last, having neither the lightness of a 
 sketch, nor the accuracy of a finished work, 
 looked coarse, laboured, and heavy. Titian is 
 the most perfect example of high finishing. 
 In him the details are engrafted on the most 
 profound knowledge of effect, and attention to 
 the character of what he represented. His pic¬ 
 tures have the exact look of nature, the very tone 
 and texture of flesh. The variety of his tints is 
 blended into the greatest simplicity. There is 
 a proper degree both of solidity and transparency. 
 All the parts hang together; every stroke tells, 
 and adds to the effect of the rest. Sir Joshua 
 seems to deny that Titian finished much, and says 
 that he produced by two or three strokes of his 
 pencil effects which the most laborious copyist 
 would in vain attempt to equal. It is true, he 
 availed himself in some degree of what is called 
 execution, to facilitate his imitation of the details 
 and peculiarities of nature ; but it was to facili¬ 
 tate, not supersede. There can be nothing more 
 distinct than execution and daubing. Titian, 
 however, made a very moderate, though a very 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 225 
 
 The genius of painting lies buried under the 
 Vatican, or skulks behind some old portrait of 
 Titian, from which it stole out to paint a 
 miniature of Lady Montague. 
 
 What is become of the successors of Rubens, 
 Rembrandt, and Vandyke! What have the 
 French academicians done for the art; or what 
 will they ever do, but add intolerable affectation 
 and grimace to centos of heads from the antique, 
 and caricature Greek forms by putting them 
 into opera attitudes ? Nicholas Poussin is the 
 only example on record in favour of the contrary 
 theory, and I have already sufficiently noticed his 
 defects. What extraordinary advances have we 
 made in our own country in consequence of the 
 establishment of the Royal Academy? What 
 greater names has the English school to boast 
 than those of Hogarth, Reynolds, and Wilson, 
 who created it ? * 
 
 Again, I might cite, in support of my asser¬ 
 tion, the works of Carlo Maratti, of Raphael 
 Mengs, or of any of the effeminate school of 
 critics and copyists who have attempted to blend 
 the borrowed beauties of others in a perfect 
 whole. What do they contain but a negation 
 
 * Were Claude Lorraine, or Nicholas Poussin, formed 
 by the rules of Dr. Piles or Du Fresnoy ? There are no 
 general tickets of admission to the Temple of Fame, trans¬ 
 ferable to large societies or organized bodies :—the paths 
 leading to it are steep and narrow, for, by the time they 
 are worn plain and easy, the niches are full. 
 
 Q 
 
*266' ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 an ideal thing as an Apollo, as to the principle 
 on which it is done, viz , giving to every feature, 
 and to the whole form, the utmost degree of 
 grossness and sensuality that can be imagined, 
 with this exception (which has nothing to do 
 with the understanding of the question), that 
 the ideal means by custom this extreme on the 
 side of the good and beautiful. With this re¬ 
 serve, the ideal means always the something more 
 of any thing which may be anticipated by the 
 fancy, and which must be found in nature (by 
 looking long enough for it) to be expressed as 
 it ought. Suppose a good heavy Dutch face (we 
 speak by the proverb)—this, you will say, is 
 gross; but it is not gross enough. You have 
 an idea of something grosser, that is, you have 
 seen something grosser, and must seek for it 
 again. When you meet with it, and have 
 stamped it on the canvas, or carved it out of the 
 block, this is the true ideal, namely, that which 
 answers to and satisfies a pre - conceived idea; 
 not that which is made out of an abstract idea, 
 and answers to nothing. 
 
 In the Silenus, also, according to the notion 
 we have of the properties and character of 
 that figure, there must be vivacity, slyness, 
 wantonness, &c. Not only the image of the 
 mind, but a real face, may express these com¬ 
 bined together; another may express them 
 more, and another most, which last is the ideal; 
 and when the image in nature coalesces with. 
 
278 
 
 ON TUB ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 sense of custom, or our settled expectations of 
 what they ought to be. And hence it has been 
 pretended that there is in all such cases a middle 
 central form, obtained by leaving out the pecu¬ 
 liarities of all the others, which alone is the pure 
 standard of truth and beauty. A conformity to 
 custom is, we grant, one condition of beauty or 
 source of satisfaction to the eye, because an ab¬ 
 rupt transition shocks; but there is a conformity 
 (or correspondence) of colours, sounds, lines, 
 among themselves, which is soft and pleasing 
 for the same reason. The average or customary 
 form merely determines what is natural. A thing 
 cannot please, unless it is to be found in nature; 
 but that which is natural is most pleasing, ac¬ 
 cording as it has other properties which in them¬ 
 selves please. Thus the colour of a cheek must 
 be the natural complexion of a human face;— 
 it would not do to make it the colour of a flower 
 or a precious stone;—but among complexions 
 ordinarily to be found in nature, that is most 
 beautiful which would be thought so abstracted¬ 
 ly, or in itself. Yellow hair is not the most 
 common, nor is it a mean proportion between the 
 different colours of women’s hair. Yet, who 
 will say that it is not the most beautiful ? Blue 
 or green hair would be a defect and an anomaly, 
 not because it is not the medium of nature, but 
 because it is not in nature at all. To say that 
 there is no difference in the sense of form except 
 from custom, is like saying that there is no dif- 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 305 
 
 and his wife in Henry the seventh’s chapel, by 
 Torregiano; from whom, on trivial and insuffi¬ 
 cient grounds, he withholds the merit of the 
 other sculptures and ornaments of the chapel. 
 This is prejudice, and not wisdom. We think 
 the tomb alone will be monument enough to 
 that artist in the opinion of all who have seen 
 it. We have no objection to, but on the contrary 
 applaud, the lecturer’s zeal to repel the im¬ 
 putation of incapacity from British art, and to 
 detect the lurking traces and doubtful prognos¬ 
 tics of it in the records of our early history: 
 but we are, at the same time, convinced that te¬ 
 naciousness on this point creates an unfavour¬ 
 able presumption on the other side; and we 
 make bold to submit, that whenever the national 
 capacity bursts forth in the same favourable and 
 striking way in the Fine Arts that it has done 
 in so many others, we shall no longer have 
 occasion to praise ourselves for what we either 
 have done or what we are to do :—the world 
 will soon be loud in the acknowledgement of 
 it. Works of ornament and splendour must 
 dazzle and claim attention at the first sight, or 
 they do not answer their end. They are not like 
 the deductions of an abstruse philosophy, or 
 even improvements in practical affairs, which 
 may make their way slowly and under-ground. 
 They are not a light placed under a bushel, but 
 like "a city set on a hill, that cannot be hid!” 
 To appear, and to be, are with them the same 
 
 x 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No 
 
 Painted by 
 
 26. 
 2 7 . 
 28 . 
 
 29 . 
 
 30 . 
 
 31 . 
 
 32 . 
 
 33 . 
 
 34 . 
 
 35 . 
 
 36 . 
 
 37 . 
 
 38 . 
 39 - 
 
 40 . 
 
 41 . 
 
 42 . 
 
 43 . 
 
 44 . 
 
 45 . 
 
 46 . 
 
 47 . 
 
 48 . 
 49 - 
 50 . 
 
 51 . 
 
 52 . 
 
 53 . 
 
 54 . 
 
 55 . 
 
 56 . 
 57 - 
 58 . 
 59 - 
 60. 
 61. 
 62 . 
 
 63 . 
 
 64 . 
 
 65 . 
 
 66 . 
 
 67 - 
 
 68 . 
 
 69 - 
 
 70 . 
 
 71 . 
 
 72 . 
 
 73 . 
 
 74 . 
 
 75 . 
 
 76 . 
 
 Portrait of Giulia Gonzaga. 
 
 St. John in the Wilderness. 
 
 The Consecration of St. Nicholas ... 
 
 Portrait of Pope Julius II. 
 
 Susanna and the Elders . 
 
 The Holy Family (Madonna del Gatto ) 
 
 The Embarkation of St. Ursula. 
 
 A Landscape—Abraham and Isaac... 
 
 The Rape of Ganymede. 
 
 The Vision of St. Jerome. 
 
 Venus and Adonis . 
 
 Bacchus and Ariadne. 
 
 A Land-storm . 
 
 A Study of Heads . . 
 
 The Rape of the Sabines. 
 
 The Nursing of Bacchus . 
 
 A Classical Landscape . 
 
 The Martyrdom of Peter the Dominican 
 
 A Bacchanalian Scene . 
 
 Christ taken down from the Cross .... 
 
 Charity . 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery .... 
 Peace driving away the Horrors of War 
 The Adoration of the Shepherds .... 
 Landscape—Tobias and the Angel.. 
 
 The Portrait of Rubens. 
 
 The Emperor Theodosius refused ad- 
 mittance into the Church by St. > 
 
 Ambrose. J 
 
 A Portrait of a Jew Merchant. 
 
 Portrait of Cornelius Vander Geest.... 
 Evening; with Cattle and Figures .... 
 
 A Woman Bathing. 
 
 A Landscape—Death of Procris . 
 
 A Landscape with Figures. 
 
 St. Bavon. 
 
 Study from Nature. 
 
 The Brazen Serpent .. 
 
 The building of the Tower of Babel .. 
 
 A Landscape—The Annunciation - 
 
 A Bacchanalian Dance . 
 
 A Landscape—Prince Giustiniani re-1 
 turning from a Hunting Party.... / 
 A Landscape—Return of the Ark .... 
 
 Cephalus and Aurora. 
 
 Rubens’ Chateau—A Landscape. 
 
 The Holy Family, with St. George, a "i 
 
 Female Saint and Angels.J 
 
 View near Aibano . 
 
 St. John Preaching. 
 
 Cornelia and her Children. 
 
 Morning—A Landscape. 
 
 Landscape, with Tobias and the Angel 
 
 The Conversion of St. Paul . 
 
 A Spanish Peasant Boy. 
 
 A Landscape, with St. George and 
 
 the Dragon . ./ 
 
 Christ Praying in the Garden. 
 
 The Stoning of St. Stephen. 
 
 Sebastian del Piombo. 
 Annibal Carucci. 
 
 Paul Veronese. 
 Raphael. 
 
 Ludovico Caracci. 
 Baroccio. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 Titian. 
 
 Purmegiano. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 Correggio. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Giulio Romano . 
 Rembrandt. 
 Rubens. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Domenichino. 
 Vandyke. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 Vandyke. 
 
 Cuijp. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Rubetis. 
 
 L. Bassano. 
 Claude. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 
 S. Bourdon. 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 
 Pietro Francesco Jlolu. 
 Paduanino. 
 
 Jan Both. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Ercole da Feirara. 
 Murillo. 
 
 Domenichino. 
 
 ! [A\fter) Co n-eggio. 
 
 \ Domenichino. 
 
DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 xi 
 
 No. 
 
 296 . 
 
 297 . 
 
 298 . 
 
 299 . 
 
 300 . 
 
 301 . 
 
 302 . 
 
 303 . 
 
 304 . 
 
 305 . 
 
 306 . 
 
 307 . 
 
 308 . 
 
 309 . 
 
 310 . 
 
 311 . 
 
 312 . 
 
 313 . 
 
 314 . 
 
 315 . 
 
 316 . 
 317 - 
 
 318 . 
 
 319 . 
 
 320 . 
 
 321 . 
 
 322 . 
 
 323 . 
 
 324 . 
 
 325 . 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Death of St. Francis. 
 
 Susannah and the Elders 
 
 Cupid Sleeping . 
 
 A Locksmith. ... 
 
 Nursing of Jupiter. 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul .. 
 
 A Holy Family .. .. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Venus .. 
 
 Triumph of David . 
 
 St. Francis . 
 
 St. Antony of Padua . 
 
 Woman Playing on a Barrel Organ .. 
 
 Philip IV. of Spain. 
 
 The Flight to Egypt . 
 
 A Pieta—Dead Christ and Angels .... 
 
 Adoration of the Magi . 
 
 The Entombment of Christ. 
 
 Figures and Landscape. 
 
 Rinaido and Armida . 
 
 Venus and Mercury. 
 
 Angels .. 
 
 Triumph of Religion. 
 
 Codes defending the bridge against \ 
 
 the army of Porsenna .J 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Landscape and Horses . 
 
 St. Francis .. 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 St. Cecilia at an Organ. 
 
 Jupiter and Antiope . 
 
 FIFTH ROOM. 
 
 326 . 
 
 327 . 
 
 328 . 
 329 - 
 
 330 . 
 
 331 . 
 
 332 . 
 
 333 . 
 
 334 . 
 
 335 . 
 
 336 . 
 
 337 . 
 
 338 . 
 
 339 . 
 
 340 . 
 
 341 . 
 
 342 . 
 
 343 . 
 
 344 . 
 
 345 . 
 
 346 . 
 
 347 . 
 
 348 . 
 
 349 . 
 
 Madonna, Child, and St. John. 
 
 A Holy Family ... 
 
 Salvator Mundi ... 
 
 Christ bearing his Cross . 
 
 Child Sleeping. 
 
 St. John preaching. 
 
 A Madonna . 
 
 A Cardinal blessing a Person. 
 
 St. Cecilia at the Organ.. 
 
 Madonna, Child, and St. John. 
 
 The Assumption. 
 
 Mater Dolorosa . 
 
 Portrait of Noel Desenfans. 
 
 Martyrdom of Sebastian . 
 
 Mrs. Siddons in the character of the"! 
 
 Tragic Muse. j 
 
 The Assumption... 
 
 Holy Family ... 
 
 Judith in the Head of Holofernes .... 
 
 The Entombment .. 
 
 Adoration of the Magi. 
 
 Mater Dolorosa . 
 
 Madonna and Child . 
 
 Woman taken in Adultery . 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Lodovico Caracci. 
 
 Elzheimei \ 
 
 Schidone. 
 
 Caravaggio. 
 
 Nicolas Poussin. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 Schidone. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Nicolas Poussin. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Chardin. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 Annibul Caracci. 
 Murillo. 
 
 A . Sac chi. 
 
 P. Bril. 
 
 N. Poussin, 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 P. da Cortona. 
 
 Le Brun . 
 
 Herman Swanevelt. 
 'Luccarelli. 
 
 A. Caracci. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
 Guercino . 
 Morales. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 P. Vei-onese. 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Northcote. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 Bronzino. 
 Lodovico Caracci. 
 A. Veronese. 
 
 A. Sacchi. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE, 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 No. Title of Pictnre. 
 
 queen’s PRESENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 202 . 
 
 203 . 
 
 204 . 
 
 Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick .... 
 Princess Dorothea of Brunswick .... 
 Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, \ 
 daughter of Charles I./ 
 
 queen’s AUDIENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 205 . 
 
 206. 
 
 207. 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots. 
 
 Frederick Henry, Prince of Orange, 1 
 Grandfather of William III. of > 
 
 England.J 
 
 William, Prince of Orange, his Son .. 
 
 ON THE STAIRCASE. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 P. Mi guard. 
 
 I 
 
 Anonymous. 
 Gerard Honthorst. 
 
 208 . 
 
 Sir Geoffrey Wyatville 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 IN THE COLLECTION OF 
 
 Ci)E l?cm. tl)f ^tHavqucsiS of OTc3tmtnStn\ 
 
 AT 
 
 GROSYENOR HOUSE. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted 7>y 
 
 2 . 
 
 3 . 
 
 4 . 
 
 5 . 
 
 6 . 
 7 - 
 
 8 . 
 
 9 . 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 . 
 
 12 . 
 
 13 . 
 
 14 . 
 
 15 . 
 
 16. 
 
 17 . 
 
 18 . 
 
 10 . 
 
 THE ANTE-BOOM. 
 
 Portrait of Jane, Lady Grosvenor,'| 
 Grandmother to the present Mar- ^ 
 
 quess.J 
 
 The Grosvenor Hunt. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Thomas Grosvenor .... 
 
 The Death of General Wolfe . 
 
 The Distressed Poet. 
 
 Portrait of Robert Earl Grosvenor .... 
 Sea-shore with Fishermen launching "i 
 
 their boat. / 
 
 View in Venice. 
 
 Portrait of Brood Mares, in Land- "i 
 
 scape. j 
 
 Portrait of Thomas Grosvenor, Esq.... 
 Sea-shore with Women buying fish .. 
 View on the Dee, near Eaton Hall.... 
 
 A Man with a Hawk. 
 
 The Battle of the Boyne . 
 
 Landscape with Cattle and Figures.... 
 Portrait of Master Buttall; “The Blue y 
 
 Boy ”./ 
 
 Portrait of General Grosvenor. 
 
 The Battle of La Hogue . 
 
 DRAWING ROOM. 
 
 Hagar in the Desert . 
 
 Chamberlain . 
 
 Stubbs. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 West. 
 
 Hogarth. 
 Hoppner. 
 
 JJe Loutherbourg. 
 Canaletti. 
 
 Stubbs. 
 
 Hoppner. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 North cote. 
 
 West. 
 
 J. J. Chalon. 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Hoppner. 
 
 West. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
xlii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 70 . 
 
 71 . 
 
 ' 2 . 
 
 73 . 
 
 74 . 
 
 75 . 
 
 76 . 
 
 77 . 
 
 78 . 
 
 79 . 
 
 80 . 
 81 . 
 82 . 
 
 83 . 
 
 84 . 
 
 85 . 
 
 86 . 
 871 
 88 / 
 
 89 . 
 
 90 . 
 
 91 . 
 
 92 . 
 
 93 . 
 
 94 . 
 
 95 . 
 
 96 . 
 
 97 . 
 
 98 . 
 
 99 - 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 . 
 
 102 . 
 
 103 . 
 
 104 . 
 
 105 . 
 
 106. 
 
 107 . 
 
 108 . 
 
 109 - 
 
 110 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 112 . 
 
 113 . 
 
 114 . 
 
 115 . 
 
 Landscape: Evening; The Decline') 
 of the Roman Empire ( duplicate ) J 
 
 Holy Family, with Angels. 
 
 Landscape: Morning; the Rise of') 
 the Roman Empire (duplicate) .. / 
 
 The Fathers of the Church . 
 
 Holy Family; with St. Joseph and") 
 
 St. Elizabeth./ 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery . 
 
 Portrait of Himself and his first Wife 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Ixion Embracing the False Juno. 
 
 THE SALOON. 
 
 Two Angels . 
 
 Holy Family in a Landscape . 
 
 The Triumph of Venus. 
 
 The Angel appearing to Hagar . 
 
 Landscape with Figures and Cattle ... 
 
 The Salutation. . 
 
 St. John. 
 
 A View in North Holland. 
 
 Deer in a Landscape.} 
 
 St. Peter . 
 
 The Virgin and Child. 
 
 St. Paul. 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 Virgin and Child with St. John. 
 
 Joseph sold by his Brethren. 
 
 Landscape, with Portraits of the Ar- \ 
 
 tist and his Wife./ 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 The Sybil’s Temple at Tivoli . 
 
 THE ANTI-DINING ROOM. 
 
 Landscape, Figures and Cattle. 
 
 Sheep . 
 
 Sarah Sending away Hagar. 
 
 Portrait of Himself when Young. 
 
 A Dutch Family saying Grace. 
 
 A Horse Fair .. 
 
 Landscape, with Figures. 
 
 A View in Holland .. 
 
 An Interior with Men Smoking. 
 
 Birds. 
 
 A Forest Scene ..{ 
 
 A Moonlight with Cattle.. 
 
 A River View with Boats and Figures 
 
 View of a Dutch Town. 
 
 Dead Game . 
 
 A Forest Scene, with Figures .{ 
 
 Landscape ; A View near the Hague, | 
 with Cattle and Figures./ 
 
 Claude. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 Rubens. 
 
 Correggio . 
 
 Albano. 
 
 Pietro da Cortona. 
 Berghem. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Philip de Knningh. 
 John Elias Ridinger. 
 
 Polidoro. 
 
 Albano. 
 
 Polidoro. 
 
 Pietro da Cortona. 
 Sasso Ferrato. 
 Trevisani. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Andrea del Sarto. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 Both. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Fyt. 
 
 Hobbema, and A. Van - 
 dervelde. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Vangoyen. 
 
 Fyt. 
 
 Hobbema and A. Van - 
 dervelde. 
 
 Paul Potter. 
 
BUKLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 Ixvii 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Head of Martin Luther. 
 
 Landscape. . 
 
 Flower-Piece. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Fire. . 
 
 Cock’s Fighting. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Air. 
 
 Death of Eloisa. 
 
 Dead Game. 
 
 PURPLE VELVET BED-ROOM. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 M. Ang. Campidoglio. 
 Krunuck. 
 
 Tempest a. 
 
 Baptist. 
 
 Brueghel. 
 
 David Koninck . 
 Ruysdael. 
 Brueghel. 
 Kauffman. 
 Vundermin. 
 
 Susannah and the Elders. 
 
 Lady Ann Cecil, Wife of Tenth Earl of 
 
 Northumberland. 
 
 Lady Warwick. 
 
 Caravaggio. 
 Vandyck. 
 Ashjield , 
 
 WEST DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 Reconciliation of Peter and Paul . 
 
 Susannah and the Elders. 
 
 Vision of St. Frances (on slate). 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Victory introducing the Doge Simon Memmo 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine.. 
 
 A Head. 
 
 Shepherd, Dog, and Sheep. 
 
 William Tell . 
 
 Joseph and Potiphar’s Wife. 
 
 A Battle Piece. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Fame decorating Shakespere’s Tomb . 
 
 Sterne's Maria. 
 
 Landscape, with Battle. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Head of David. 
 
 Sketch . 
 
 Men playing at Dice. 
 
 Ixion embracing the false Juno. 
 
 Leda and the Swan . 
 
 Rinaldo and Armida. 
 
 Flight into E^ypt .. 
 
 Jupiter and Semele . 
 
 Jupiter and Danae. 
 
 Journey to Einmaus. . 
 
 St. Hubert ... 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 G. Honthorst. 
 Lely. 
 
 Veronese. 
 
 G. B. Castiglione. 
 [After] Raphael. 
 P. Farinato. 
 
 Ang. Kauffman . 
 Anonymous. 
 Teniers. 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 V. Castelli. 
 Castiglione. 
 
 Kauffman . 
 
 H. Carre. 
 
 N. Bcrghem. 
 Guercino. 
 
 L. Caracci. 
 M iguard. 
 
 C. Muratti. 
 
 Dnmenichino. 
 
 Zuccaro. 
 
 C. Muratti. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Durer. 
 
 C. Apollonius. 
 
 HALL BED DRESSING-ROOM, OR FIRST 
 GEORGE ROOM. 
 
 (The Ceiling represents the following My¬ 
 thological and other Subjects. 
 
 The Four Seasons. 
 
 The Four Elements. 
 
 Hercules slaying the Lion. 
 
 Verrio. 
 
 e 2 
 
Iixxiv 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 38 . 
 
 39 . 
 
 40 . 
 
 41 . 
 
 42 . 
 
 43 . 
 
 44 . 
 
 45 . 
 
 46 . 
 47 - 
 
 48 . 
 
 49. 
 
 50 . 
 
 51 . 
 
 52 . 
 
 53 . 
 
 54 . 
 
 55 
 
 56] 
 
 57 i 
 
 58 
 
 59 
 
 60 J 
 
 61 
 
 62. 
 
 63- 
 
 64. 
 
 65. 
 
 65. 
 
 67. 
 
 68 . 
 
 69. 
 
 70. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Laurence, Earl of Rochester . 
 
 Shirley . 
 
 Selden. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane. 
 
 Balzac . 
 
 Henry IV. of France . 
 
 Charles XII. of Sweden. 
 
 Dean Swift. 
 
 Ben Jonson . 
 
 Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham . 
 
 Pope ... 
 
 Dr. Wallis. 
 
 Cowley . 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey .. 
 
 Charles, Earl of Arran . 
 
 Janies, Duke of Ormond. 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 A View of Antwerp. 
 
 f Pride .1 
 
 I Lust . | 
 
 1 Drunkenness .. | 
 
 The Seven Vices .. Revenge...... 
 
 | Sloth . 
 
 | Avarice. 
 
 LEnvy ......... 
 
 Our Saviour appearing to his disci¬ 
 ples after his Resurrection. 
 
 A Fruit-Piece . 
 
 Dutch Gardener, with Boys stealing 
 
 Fruit . 
 
 The English Fleet in Charles I IPs’ 
 time, Commanded by the Duke of 
 
 York .. 
 
 A Storm at Sea. 
 
 A Dutch Fish-Market.. 
 
 I Moses Striking the Rock. 
 
 iThe School of Athens. 
 
 'a Storm in Haerlem Meer . 
 
 THE END. 
 
 P.'tinted by 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Richardson. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Schroder. 
 
 Jarvis. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Richardson. 
 
 Jarvis. 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Sir J Thornhill . 
 Kneller. 
 
 Schalken. 
 
 Jordaens of Antwerp*. 
 
 Old Frank Hall. 
 
 Philips . 
 Willarts. 
 
 Jordaens of Antwerp . 
 Giulio Romano (?) 
 Porcellus. 
 
 J. UENSLEY, PRINTER, WOKING. 
 
CRITICISMS ON ART: 
 
 AND 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE 
 
 PICTURE GALLERIES OE ENGLAND. 
 
 By WILLIAM HAZLITT. 
 
 WITH 
 
 CATALOGUES OF THE PRINCIPAL GALLERIES, 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED. 
 
 Second IStutfcn. 
 
 EDITED BY HIS SON. 
 
 LONDON: C. TEMPLEMAN, 
 0 GREAT PORTLAND STREET. 
 
 MDCCCLYI. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PACK 
 
 I. CRITICISMS ON THE PICTURE GAL¬ 
 
 LERIES OF ENGLAND: 
 
 THE ANGERSTEIN GALLERY . 1 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 19 
 
 THE MARQUIS OP STAFFORD’S GALLERY . . 40 
 
 WINDSOR CASTLE. 60 
 
 HAMPTON COURT. 73 
 
 THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 88 
 
 PICTURES AT WILTON, STOURHEAD, &C. .. 102 
 
 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE.. . 115 
 
 PICTURES AT OXFORD AND BLENHEIM.... 129 
 
 II. ON HOGARTH'S MARRIAGE A-LA- 
 
 MODE. 142 
 
 III. ON THE FINE ARTS. 155 
 
 IV. ON THE ELGIN MARBLES . 240 
 
 V. FONTHILL ABBEY. 284 
 
 VI. ON FLAXMAN’S LECTURES ON 
 
 SCULPTURE . 300 
 
 VII. APPENDIX: 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES IN THE NATIONAL 
 
 GALLERY . i 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES iW THE DULWICH 
 
 GALLERY . T 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT HAMPTON 
 
 court . xiii 
 
 CATALOGUE OF PICTURES AT WINDSOR 
 
 CASTLE. xxxir 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 21 
 
 years hurt him not—he hears their sound afar 
 off, and is glad. See him there, the urchin, 
 seated in the sun, with a book in his hand, and 
 the wall at his back. He has a thicker wall be¬ 
 fore him — the wall that parts him from the 
 future. He sees not the archers taking aim at 
 his peace ; he knows not the hands that are to 
 mangle his bosom. He stirs not, he still pores 
 upon his book, and, as he reads, a slight hectic 
 flush passes over his cheek, for he sees the 
 letters that compose the word Fame glitter on 
 the page, and his eyes swim, and he thinks that 
 he will one day write a book, and have his name 
 repeated by thousands of readers, and assume 
 a certain signature, and write Essays and Criti¬ 
 cisms in a London Magazine, as a consumma¬ 
 tion of felicity scarcely to be believed. Come 
 hither, thou poor little fellow, and let us change 
 places with thee, if thou wilt; here, take the pen 
 and finish this article, and sign what name you 
 please to it ; so that we may but change our 
 dress for yours, and sit shivering in the sun, and 
 con over our little task, and feed poor, and lie 
 hard, and be contented and happy, and think 
 what a fine thing it is to be an author, and 
 dream of immortality, and sleep o’nights ! 
 
 There is something affecting and monastic in 
 the sight of this little nursery of learning, simple 
 and retired as it stands, just on the verge of the 
 metropolis, and in the midst of modern improve¬ 
 ments. There is a chapel, containing a copy 
 of Raphael's Transfiguration, by Giulio Romano; 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 25 
 
 ache; particularly the face and figure of the man 
 leaning against the door, overcome with “ po¬ 
 tations pottle deep.” Brouwer united the depth 
 and richness of Ostade to the spirit and felicity 
 of Teniers. No. 105, Sleeping Nymph and Cupid, 
 and 14, Nymph and Satyr, by Poelemberg, are not 
 pictures to our taste. Why should any one 
 make it a rule never to paint any thing but this 
 one subject ? Was it to please himself or others ? 
 The one shows bad taste, the other wrong 
 judgment. The grossness of the selection is 
 hardly more offensive than the frnicalness of the 
 execution. No. 337, a Mater Dolorosa, by Carlo 
 Dolce, is a very good specimen of this master; 
 but the expression has too great a mixture of 
 piety and pauperism in it. It is not altogether 
 spiritual. 
 
 No. 27, A School with Girls at work, by G. 
 M. Crespi, is a most rubbishly performance, and 
 has the look of a modern picture. It was, no 
 doubt, painted in the fashion of the time, and is 
 now old-fashioned. Every thing has this mo¬ 
 dern, or rather uncouth and obsolete look, which, 
 besides the temporary and local circumstances, 
 has not the free look of nature. Dress a figure 
 in what costume you please (however fantastic, 
 however barbarous), but add the expression 
 which is common to all faces, the properties 
 that are common to all drapery in its elemen¬ 
 tary principles, and the picture will belong to 
 all times and places. It is not the addition 
 of individual circumstances, but the omission of 
 
30 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 is in his usual manner. There is truth of cha¬ 
 racter and delicate finishing; but the fault of 
 all Berg-hem’s pictures is that he continues to 
 finish after he has done looking at nature, and 
 his last touches are different from hers. Hence 
 comes that resemblance to tea-board painting, 
 which even his best works are chargeable 
 with. 
 
 We find here one or two small Claudes 
 of no great value ; and two very clever spe¬ 
 cimens of the court - painter, Watteau, the 
 Gainsborough of France. They are marked as 
 197 and 210, Fete Cliampetre , and Le Bal 
 Champetre. 
 
 There is something exceedingly light, agree¬ 
 able, and characteristic in this artist’s produc¬ 
 tions. He might also be said to breathe his 
 figures and his flowers on the canvas—so fragile 
 is their texture, so evanescent is his touch. 
 He unites the court and the country at a sort 
 of salient point—you may fancy yourself with 
 Count Grammont and the beauties of Charles II. 
 in their gay retreat at Tunbridge Wells. His 
 trees have a drawing-room air with them, an 
 appearance of gentility and etiquette, and nod 
 gracefully over-head ; while the figures below, 
 thin as air, and vegetably clad, in the midst of 
 all their affectation and grimace, seem to 
 h.ave just sprung out of the ground, or to 
 be the fairy inhabitants of the scene in mas¬ 
 querade. They are the Oreads and Dryads of 
 
34 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 the tone of Scripture-history. This is strange, 
 but so it is. All things are possible to a high 
 imagination. All things, about which we have 
 a feeling, may be expressed by true genius. 
 A dark landscape by the same hand (279), in a 
 corner of the room, is a proof of this. There 
 are trees in the fore-ground, with a paved road 
 and buildings in the distance. The Genius of 
 antiquity might wander here, and feel itself at 
 home. The large leaves are wet and heavy 
 with dew, and the eye dwells “ under the 
 shade of melancholy boughs.” In the old col¬ 
 lection (in Mr. Desenfans’ time) the Poussins 
 occupied a separate room by themselves, and 
 it was (we confess) a very favourite room 
 with us. 
 
 No. 159 is a Landscape , by Salvator Rosa. 
 It is one of his very best—rough, grotesque, 
 wild ; Pan has struck it with his hoof; the trees, 
 the rocks, the fore-ground, are of a piece, and 
 the figures are subordinate to the landscape. 
 The same dull sky lowers upon the scene, and 
 the bleak air chills the crisp surface of the 
 water. It is a consolation to us to meet with a 
 fine Salvator. His is one of the great names in 
 art, and it is among our sources of regret that 
 we cannot always admire his works as we would 
 do, from our respect to his reputation and our 
 love of the man. Poor Salvator! he was unhappy- 
 in his life-time ; and it vexes us to think that we 
 cannot make him amends by fancying him so 
 
62 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 hovel) always defend us against the winter’s 
 cold. The apartments are also filled with too 
 many rubbishly pictures of kings and queens— 
 there are too many of Verrio’s paintings, and a 
 whole roomful of West’s; but there are ten or 
 twenty pictures which the eye, having once seen, 
 never loses sight of, and that make Windsor 
 one of the retreats and treasuries of art in this 
 country. These, however, are chiefly pictures 
 which have a personal and individual interest 
 attached to them, as we have already hinted : 
 there are very few historical compositions of 
 any value, and the subjects of the others are 
 so desultory that the young person who shows 
 them, and goes through the names of the paint¬ 
 ers and portraits very correctly, said she very 
 nearly went out of her mind in the three weeks 
 she was “ studying her part.” It is a matter of 
 nomenclature: we hope we shall make as few 
 blunders in our report as she did. 
 
 In the first room the stranger is shown into, 
 there are two large landscapes by Zuccarelli 
 (26 and 27). They are clever well-painted pic¬ 
 tures ; but they are worth nothing. The fault 
 of this artist is that there is nothing absolutely 
 good or bad in his pictures. They are mere 
 handicraft. The whole is done with a certain 
 mechanical ease and indifference; but it is 
 evident no part of the picture gave him any 
 pleasure, and it is impossible it should give the 
 spectator any. His only ambition was to execute 
 
68 
 
 THK PICTURES AT 
 
 our pleasure in it; as the eccentric character, 
 the wild subjects, and the sounding name of 
 Salvator Rosa have tended to lift him into the 
 highest rank of fame among painters. 
 
 In the same room with the Misers, by the 
 Blacksmith of Antwerp, is a very different pic¬ 
 ture by Titian, consisting of two figures also, 
 viz. Himself and a Venetian Senator [54]. It is 
 one of the finest specimens of this master. His 
 own portrait is not much: it has spirit, but is 
 hard, with somewhat of a vulgar, knowing look. 
 But the head of the Senator* is as fine as any 
 thing that ever proceeded from the hand of man. 
 The expression is a lambent flame, a soul of fire 
 dimmed, not quenched, by age. The flesh is 
 flesh. If Rubens’ pencil fed upon roses, Titian’s 
 was carnivorous. The tone is betwixt a gold 
 and silver hue. The texture and pencilling are 
 marrowy. The dress is a rich crimson, which 
 seems to have been growing deeper ever since 
 it was painted. It is a front view. As far as 
 attitude or action is concerned, it is mere still- 
 life ; but the look is of that kind that goes 
 through you at a single glance. Let any one 
 look well at this portrait, and if he then sees 
 nothing in it, or in the portraits of this painter 
 in general, let him give up virtii and criticism in 
 despair. 
 
 This room is rich in valuable gems, which 
 
 The Chancellor Andrea Franceschini. 
 
78 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 it is as if we had ourselves seen the persons and 
 things at some former period of our being, and 
 that the drawing certain dotted lines upon coarse 
 paper, by some unknown spell, brought back 
 the entire and living images, and made them 
 pass before us, palpable to thought, to feeling, 
 and to sight. Perhaps not all is owing to ge¬ 
 nius : something of this effect may be ascribed 
 to the simplicity of the vehicle employed in em¬ 
 bodying the story, and something to the decayed 
 and dilapidated state of the pictures themselves. 
 They are the more majestic for being in ruin: 
 we are struck chiefly with the truth of pro¬ 
 portion, and the range of conception : all the 
 petty, meretricious part of the art is dead in 
 them; the carnal is made spiritual, the corrupt¬ 
 ible has put on incorruption, and, amidst the 
 wreck of colour, and the mouldering of material 
 beauty, nothing is left but a universe of thought, 
 or the broad, imminent shadows of " calm con¬ 
 templation and majestic pains !” 
 
 The first in order is the Death of Ananias: 
 (606) and it is one of the noblest of these noble 
 designs. The effect is striking; and the contrast 
 between the stedfast, commanding attitude of the 
 Apostle, and the convulsed and prostrate figure 
 of Ananias on the floor, is finely imagined. It is 
 much as if a group of persons on shore stood to 
 witness the wreck of life and hope on the rocks 
 and quicksands beneath them. The abruptness 
 and severity of the transition are, however, broken 
 
108 
 
 PICTURES AT FONTHILL. 
 
 of cumbrous, conscious dignity. It should not 
 be omitted that it was here (in the house or the 
 adjoining magnificent grounds) that Sir Philip 
 Sidney wrote his Arcadia ; and the story of 
 Musidorus and Philoclea, of Mopsa and Dorcas, 
 is quaintly traced on oval pannels in the principal 
 drawing-room. 
 
 It is on this account that we are compelled to 
 find fault with the Collection at Fonthill Abbey, 
 because it exhibits no picture of remarkable emi¬ 
 nence that can be ranked as an heir-loom of the 
 imagination—which cannot be spoken of but 
 our thoughts take wing and stretch themselves 
 towards it—the very name of which is music to 
 the instructed ear. We would not give a rush 
 to see any Collection that does not contain some 
 single picture, at least, that haunts us with an un¬ 
 easy sense of joy for twenty miles of road, that 
 may cheer us at intervals for twenty years of life 
 to come. Without some such thoughts as these 
 rivetted in the brain, the lover and disciple of art 
 would truly be “ of all men the most miserable 
 but with them hovering round him, and ever 
 and anon shining with their glad lustre into his 
 sleepless soul, he has nothing to fear from fate, 
 or fortune. We look, and lo ! here is one at our 
 side, facing us, though far distant. It is the 
 Young Man’s head, in the Louvre, by Titian, 
 that it is not unlike Jeronymo della Porretta in 
 Sir Charles Grandison. What a look is there 
 of calm, unalterable self-possession— 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 1*25 
 
 utterly unbecoming the character it professes 
 to represent. But I will say no more about it. 
 The Bath of Seneca is one of Luca Jordano’s 
 best performances, and has considerable interest 
 and effect. Among other historical designs, 
 there is one of Jacob’s Dream, with the angels 
 ascending and descending on a kind of stairs. 
 The conception is very answerable to the sub¬ 
 ject 5 but the execution is not in any high 
 degree spirited or graceful. The mind goes 
 away no gainer from the picture. Rembrandt 
 alone perhaps could add any thing to this 
 subject. Of him it might be said that “ his 
 light shone in darkness!”—The wreaths of 
 flowers and foliage carved in wood on the 
 wainscots and cieling of many of the rooms, by 
 the celebrated Grinling Gibbons in Charles the 
 Second’s time, shew a wonderful lightness and 
 facility of hand, and give pleasure to the eye. 
 The other ornaments and curiosities I need not 
 mention, as they are carefully pointed out by 
 the housekeeper to the admiring visitor. There 
 are two heads, however, (one of them happens 
 to have a screen placed before it) which I would 
 by no means wish any one to pass over, who is 
 an artist, or feels the slightest interest in the 
 art. They are, I should suppose unquestionably, 
 the original studies by Rapbael of the heads of 
 the Virgin and Joseph in his famous picture of 
 the Madonna of the Crown. The Virgin is par¬ 
 ticularly beautiful, and in the finest preservation. 
 
214 
 
 ON THE FINE AKTS. 
 
 part of the body. Grandeur does not consist in 
 omitting the parts, but in connecting all the 
 parts into a whole, and in giving their combined 
 and varied action ; abstract truth, or ideal per¬ 
 fection does not consist in rejecting the pecu¬ 
 liarities of form, but in rejecting all those which 
 are not consistent with the character intended 
 to be given, and in following up the same general 
 idea of softness,voluptuousness, strength, activity, 
 or any combination of these, through every rami¬ 
 fication of the frame. 
 
 But these modifications of form or expres¬ 
 sion can only be learnt from nature, and there¬ 
 fore the perfection of art must always be 
 sought in nature. The ideal properly applies as 
 much to the idea of ugliness, weakness, folly, 
 meanness, vice, as of beauty, strength, wisdom, 
 magnanimity, or virtue. The antique heads of 
 fauns and satyrs, of Pan or Silenus, are quite 
 as ideal as those of Apollo or Bacchus; and 
 Hogarth adhered to an idea of humour in 
 his faces, as Raphael did to an idea of senti¬ 
 ment. But Raphael found the character of sen¬ 
 timent in nature as much as Hogarth did that 
 of humour, otherwise neither of them would 
 have given one or the other with such perfect 
 truth, purity, force, and keeping. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds’ ideal , as consisting in a mere nega¬ 
 tion of individuality, bears just the same relation 
 to real beauty or grandeur as caricature does 
 to true comic character. 
 
232 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 efforts of his art, subjects which were sacred 
 to the imaginations and feelings of the specta¬ 
 tors ; there was a common link, a mutual sym¬ 
 pathy, between them in their common faith.* 
 Every other mode of patronage but that which 
 arises either from the general institutions and 
 manners of a people, or from the real, unaffected 
 taste of individuals, must, I conceive, be ille¬ 
 gitimate, corrupted in its source, and either 
 ineffectual or injurious to its professed object. 
 Positive encouragements and rewards will not 
 make an honest man, or a great artist. The 
 assumed familiarity, and condescending good¬ 
 ness of patrons and vice - patrons will serve 
 to intoxicate rather than to sober the mind, 
 and a card to dinner in Cleveland-row or Port- 
 land-place will have a tendency to divert the 
 
 * Of the effect of the authority of the subject of a com¬ 
 position, in suspending the exercise of personal taste and 
 feeling in the spectators, we have a striking instance in 
 our own country, where this cause must, from collateral 
 circumstances, operate less forcibly. Mr. West’s pictures 
 would not be tolerated, but from the respect inspired by 
 the subjects of which he treats. When a young lady and 
 her mother, the wife and daughter of a clergyman, are 
 told that a gawky ill-favoured youth is the beloved dis¬ 
 ciple of Christ, and that a tall, starched figure of a woman 
 visible near him is the Virgin Mary, whatever they 
 might have thought before, they can no more refrain 
 from shedding tears than if they had seen the very per¬ 
 sons recorded in sacred history. It is not the picture, 
 but the associations connected with it, that produce the 
 effect. 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 249 
 
 the Ilissus and Theseus) afford no examples, the 
 heads being gone. 
 
 Lastly, as to the ideal form, we contend it is 
 nothing but a selection of fine nature, such as 
 it was seen by the ancient Greek sculptors ; and 
 we say that a sufficient approximation to this form 
 may be found in our own country, and still more 
 in other countries, at this day, to warrant the 
 clear conclusion that, under more favourable cir¬ 
 cumstances of climate, manners, &c., no vain im¬ 
 agination of the human mind could come up to 
 entire natural forms ; and that actual casts from 
 Greek models would rival the common Greek 
 statues, or surpass them in the same proportion 
 and manner as the Elgin Marbles do. Or if this 
 conclusion should be doubted, we are ready at 
 any time to produce at least one cast from living 
 nature, which, if it does not furnish practical 
 proof of all that we have here advanced, we are 
 willing to forfeit the last thing we can afford to 
 part with—a theory! 
 
 If then the Elgin Marbles are to be consi¬ 
 dered as authority in subjects of art, we con¬ 
 ceive the following principles, which have not 
 hitherto been generally received or acted upon 
 in Great Britain, will be found to result from 
 them 
 
 1. That art is (first and last) the imitation of 
 nature. 
 
 2. That the highest art is the imitation of the 
 finest nature, that is to say, of that which con- 
 
332 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 of pictures which have colour without motion ; 
 but who would contend that, because a chalk 
 drawing has the tints of flesh (denoting circula¬ 
 tion) superadded to it, this gives it the appear¬ 
 ance of a person in fits, or of death ? On the 
 contrary, Sir Joshua Reynolds makes it an ob¬ 
 jection to coloured statues that, as well as wax- 
 work, they were too much like life. This was 
 always the scope and ‘ butt-end’ of his theories 
 and rules on art, that it should avoid coming in 
 too close contact with nature. Still we are not 
 sure that this is not the true reason, viz. that 
 the imitation ought not to amount to a decep¬ 
 tion, nor be effected by gross or identical means. 
 We certainly hate all wax-work, of whatever 
 description ; and the idea of colouring a statue 
 gives us a nausea; but, as is the case with most 
 bigoted people, the clearness of our reasoning 
 does not keep pace with the strength of our pre¬ 
 judices. It is easy to repeat that the object of 
 painting is colour and form, while the object 
 of sculpture is form alone; and to ring the 
 changes on the purity, severity, and abstract truth 
 of sculpture. The question returns as before : 
 why should sculpture be more pure, more se¬ 
 vere, more abstracted, than any thing else ? The 
 only clue we can suggest is that, from the im¬ 
 mense pains bestowed in sculpture on mere form, 
 or in giving solidity and permanence, this pre¬ 
 dominant feeling becomes an exclusive and un¬ 
 sociable one, and the mind rejects every addition 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 335 
 
 forts it made to reach to its former height and 
 grandeur ;—with more anxious thoughts, and 
 with a more fearful experience to warn it—with 
 the ruins of the old world crumbling around it, 
 and the new one emerging out of the gloom of 
 Gothic barbarism and ignorance—taught to look 
 from the outspread map of time and change be¬ 
 yond it—and, if less critical in nearer objects, 
 commanding a loftier and more extended range, 
 like the bursting the hands of death asunder, or 
 the first dawn of light and peace after darkness 
 and the tempest ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J. BENSLEY, PRINTER, WOKING. 
 
DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 86 . 
 
 87 - 
 
 88 . 
 
 89 . 
 
 90. 
 
 91 . 
 
 92 . 
 
 93 . 
 ) 4 . 
 ) 5 . 
 96 . 
 97 - 
 93. 
 99 . 
 00 . 
 01 . 
 02 . 
 03. 
 04. 
 05. 
 q6. 
 07 . 
 08. 
 09- 
 10 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 112 . 
 
 113. 
 
 114. 
 
 115. 
 
 116. 
 
 117- 
 
 118. 
 
 119 - 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123. 
 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126 . 
 
 127. 
 
 128. 
 
 129. 
 
 130. 
 
 131. 
 
 132. 
 
 133. 
 
 134. 
 
 Cottage and Figures. 
 
 Old Woman and Pipkin. 
 
 Cottage and Figures . 
 
 Portrait of a Lady .{ 
 
 Tiger Hunt . 
 
 Watering Cattle, and Landscape. 
 
 Farrier shoeing a Mule, and other \ 
 
 Figures * ./ 
 
 Sketch .. 
 
 A Calm at Sea .. 
 
 Fishermen, &c. on Sea-Shore. 
 
 Interior of a Church ... 
 
 Tobit and the Angel, (a circle). 
 
 Landscape, (not hung). 
 
 Portrait of C. S. Pybus, Esq. 
 
 Portrait of Boileau. 
 
 Joseph Receiving Pharaoh’s Ring .... 
 
 Figures and Landscape.. 
 
 River View . 
 
 Flowers. 
 
 Figures... 
 
 Figures, &c. seen through an Arch.... 
 
 Cupid, Nymph, and Fawn . 
 
 A Lady Playing a Musical Instrument 
 Man and Woman Drinking in a Cottage 
 
 Figures at a Watering Place. 
 
 Sketch of Figures .. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 SECOND ROOM. 
 
 James Philip de Loutherbourg. 
 
 Moonlight. 
 
 A Cahn.. .. 
 
 Interior, with Men and Horses . 
 
 Education of Bacchus. 
 
 Winter Scene . 
 
 Cupids Reaping ... 
 
 Portrait, not numbered 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman.. 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Cattle and Figures before a Barn .... 
 
 Flowers .... 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Charity .... 
 
 Travellers halting at a Tavern........ 
 
 Landscape and Figures ... 
 
 Cupid.. 
 
 A Musical Party. 
 
 St. John. . 
 
 Huntsmen, with Dogs and Game, "i 
 Landscape, Pynaker. Figures .. / 
 Landscape, with Buildings and Figures 
 Farrier Shoeing an Ass, with other \ 
 
 Figures near Ruins... / 
 
 Portrait of a Young Man. 
 
 I Portrait of a Lady, (not hung). 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Gerard Douw. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 A. Sacchi [or more mo- 
 bubly, Carlo Maratti ] 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 Loutherbourg. 
 
 Van Slingelandt. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois . 
 
 W. Vandervelde. 
 
 P. Wouvermam. 
 
 J. Saenredam . 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 Sir W. Beechey. 
 H. Rigaud. 
 
 G. B. Tiepolo. 
 Teniers. 
 
 Jan Vosterman. 
 Daniel Seghers. 
 Jan Miel 
 Cornelius Dusart. 
 Poele/nberg. 
 Douw. 
 
 A. Van Ostade. 
 
 A. Vandervelde. 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 Breemberg. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 Vanderneer 
 William Vandervelde. 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Teniers. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 H. Rigaud. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 Paul Potter. 
 
 Van Huy sum. 
 Vandyck . 
 
 Grimoux. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 Hobbema. 
 
 Berghem. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 Vandyke. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 ) 35. 
 
 Portrait, not numbered 
 
 Madonna and Child . 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 136. 
 
 Return from Hunting. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 137. 
 
 Traveller Halting, with other Figures 
 
 — 
 
 138. 
 
 Man on Horseback, (Study). 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 139- 
 
 Portrait, not numbered. 
 
 Landscape, with the Artist, his Wife, ”1 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 
 and his House.J 
 
 140. 
 
 Flowers. 
 
 Van Huy sum. 
 
 141. 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 142. 
 
 143. 
 
 144. 
 
 145. 
 
 146. 
 
 147. 
 148 » 
 149) 
 
 150. 
 
 151. 
 
 152. 
 
 153. 
 
 154. 
 
 155. 
 
 156. 
 15J. 
 158. 
 159- 
 160 . 
 161. 
 162, 
 
 163. 
 
 164 . 
 
 165. 
 
 166. 
 
 167. 
 
 168. 
 
 169. 
 
 170. 
 
 171. 
 
 172 . 
 
 173. 
 
 174. 
 
 175. 
 
 176. 
 
 177. 
 
 178 . 
 
 179. 
 
 180. 
 181. 
 182. 
 
 183. 
 
 184. 
 
 185. 
 
 186. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Mother and Sick Child. 
 
 Travellers Halting before a Smithy. \ 
 
 Le Colornbier du Marcchal ./ 
 
 Figures on the Ice . 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Shepherd, Sheep, &c., and Landscape 
 
 Heads of an Old Man and Woman.... 
 
 Figures Crossing a Bridge. 
 
 Boy and Bird’s Nest ... . . 
 
 Man Smoking. 
 
 Portrait of John Philip Kemble. 
 
 A Waterfall. 
 
 Landscape, with Gipsies . 
 
 Horses . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Musicians. 
 
 Monks Fishing, and Landscape 
 
 Figures in a Wood. 
 
 Vespasian Rewarding his Soldiers 
 
 Shepherd and Shepherdess . 
 
 Cattle and Figures, in Landscape .... 
 
 St. Lawrence. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Breeze at Sea . 
 
 Grey Horse . 
 
 Samson on Dalilah’s Knees. 
 
 Landscape—Evening.. 
 
 Venus and Cupid. 
 
 Pomona. 
 
 Madonna and Child .. 
 
 Figures in Landscape La Pet'.te'\ 
 
 Chasse a V Oiseau ./ 
 
 Sketch . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Watering Cattle, and Landscape. 
 
 The Archangel Michael and che Fallen 1 
 
 Angels ./ 
 
 Landscape and Figures. 
 
 Jacob’s Dream. 
 
 Cattle and Figures, in Landscape 
 
 Mother and Child, in a Cottage. 
 
 Sketch of a Woman. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Francis Bourgeois 
 Cattle and Figures, with Dort in the ) 
 
 Distance.. $ 
 
 The Chaff Cutter and other Figures .. 
 A Calm . 
 
 iN. Poussin. 
 
 ! Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 I Wouvermans. 
 
 I Cuyp. 
 
 I Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 I Weenix. 
 j Teniers. 
 
 I Pynaker. 
 
 Van Slingelandt. 
 
 A. Van Ostade. 
 
 Sir W. Beechey. 
 Jacob Ruysdael. 
 Teniers. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Hobbema. 
 
 Le Brun. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 Ruysdael. 
 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 P. da Cortona. 
 
 F. Albano. 
 
 W. Vandervelde. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Wouvermans. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Paul Potter. 
 
 P. da Cortona. 
 
 I. Van Ostade. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Kulf. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Northcote. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 W. Vandervelde. 
 
APPENDIX III, 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5. 
 6 - 
 7- 
 
 to > 
 15> 
 16. 
 17 - 
 
 20 . 
 
 21 . 
 
 22 . 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 
 26 . 
 
 THE GUARD CHAMBER. 
 
 Battle between Constantine and Max- 
 
 entius. f 
 
 Admiral Sir Stafford Fairbourne. 
 
 Admiral Beaumont. 
 
 Admiral Benbow . 
 
 Admiral Sir Thomas Dilkes. 
 
 Admiral Churchill. 
 
 Admiral Sir John Jennings... 
 
 Eight Military Subjects. 
 
 The Ruins of the Colosseum. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth’s Porter. 
 
 THE king’s FIRST PRESENCE 
 CHAMBER. 
 
 The landing of William the Third at 'i 
 
 Torbay .... J 
 
 Queen Mary II., eldest daughter 011 
 
 James II.J 
 
 The Duchess of St. Albans . 
 
 The Countess of Essex. 
 
 The Countess of Peterborough . 
 
 The Countess of Ranelagh .. 
 
 Miss Pitt. 
 
 The Duchess of Grafton . 
 
 The Countess of Dorset . 
 
 G. Romano , after Ra¬ 
 phael. 
 
 G. Bookman. 
 
 Rugendas. 
 
 Canaletti. 
 Frederic Zuccaro. 
 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller. 
 
xiv 
 
 No . 
 
 27. 
 
 28. 
 
 29 . 
 
 30. 
 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 
 33. 
 
 34. 
 
 35. 
 
 36 | 
 
 37 J 
 
 38. 
 
 39. 
 
 40. 
 
 41. 
 
 42. 
 
 43. 
 
 44. 
 
 45. 
 
 46' 
 
 47- 
 
 48. 
 
 49. 
 
 50. 
 
 5). 
 
 52. 
 
 53. 
 
 54. 
 
 55. 
 
 56. 
 
 57. 
 
 58. 
 
 59. 
 
 60 
 
 61 
 
 62 
 
 63 
 
 64 
 
 65. 
 
 66 . 
 
 67, 
 
 68 . 
 
 69. 
 
 70. 
 
 71. 
 
 72. 
 
 73. 
 
 74. 
 
 75, 
 
 76 , 
 
 77 . 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Lady Middleton . Kneller. 
 
 James, first Marquis of Hamilton .... Mytens . 
 
 Admiral Russell. Kneller. 
 
 Boys with a Boat and Swan3 . Polidoro. 
 
 Boys with a Boat . . 
 
 A Portrait. \Pordenone . 
 
 An Old Woman Blowing Charcoal .... j Holbein. 
 
 A Portrait. Dobson. 
 
 Overthrow of Pharaoh and his Host .. Jordaens. 
 
 Landscapes, with figures. 
 
 St. William taking upon himself the") 
 
 order of the Carthusians .J 
 
 A Saint’s Head . 
 
 A Man Reading . 
 
 A Landscape, with figures . 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 A Portrait. 
 
 A Man shewing a Trick. 
 
 Calumny, an Allegory . 
 
 Landscapes, with figures . 
 
 Italian Lawyer. 
 
 A Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 A Portrait of a Man . 
 
 Augustus consulting the Sibyl. 
 
 Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, Sir 
 G. Kneller; the back-ground by W. 
 V andervelde. 
 
 Robert Boyle . 
 
 Mrs. Elliott . 
 
 Venus . 
 
 De Bray and his family, in the cha- 'i 
 racters of Antony, Cleopatra, Sic.. J 
 
 Admiral Sir J. Gradin . 
 
 Admiral Lord Anson. 
 
 Admiral Sir G. Byng. 
 
 Ruins... 
 
 THE SECOND PRESENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 Ruins, over the doors . 
 
 Sir H. Wotton presenting his cre¬ 
 dentials to the Doge of Venice, in 
 
 the Senate-house. 
 
 Jupiter and Europa . 
 
 The Sculptor, Baccio Bandinelli. 
 
 A Sculptor . 
 
 Mrs. Lemon. 
 
 An Italian Knight.. 
 
 A Holy Family . 
 
 The Annunciation . 
 
 St. Michael . 
 
 Christ in the house of the Pharisee.... 
 
 An Italian Lady. 
 
 Virgin and Child . 
 
 A Warrior . 
 
 Schiavone. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 Lanfrunco. 
 
 A. Catalani. 
 Schiavone. 
 Titian. 
 Giorgione. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 
 T. Zuccaro. 
 Schiavone. 
 
 P. Bordnne. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 P. da Cortona. 
 
 Kersboom. 
 
 Riley. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Himself. 
 
 Boclcman. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Bockman. 
 
 Rousseau. 
 
 Fialetti. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 Correggio. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Pordenone. 
 
 F. Vunni. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Reynolds , after Guido. 
 Bassano. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Bronzino. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
HAMPTON COURT, 
 
 xxix 
 
 No. Title of Picture. Painted *17 
 
 804. Richard Brinsley Sheridan . 
 
 8051 The Triumphs of Julius Ctesar, con- 'j 
 to? sisting of nine pictures in water > 
 813 ' colours .. J 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Andrea Mantegna. 
 
 My tens. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Remee , after Holbein. 
 
 Anonymous, 
 
 
 816. Henry VII. and his Queen, Eliza- | 
 beth ; Henry VIII. and his Queen, > 
 
 Jane Seymour. J 
 
 81^. Portrait of a Man with a watch in his l 
 hand ... ) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 L. de Heere. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 
 My tens. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 826 j 
 
 828-> 
 
 Maingaud. 
 
 Anonymous, 
 
 8301 
 
 832) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 83Q. William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, ) 
 great-grandfather to William III.. j 
 
 
 
 841. Louis XIV. of France, when young .. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dance. 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Knelle)'. 
 
 Dahl. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Vick. 
 
 G. Honthorst, 
 
 
 
 
 
 8521 
 
 855 y 
 
 THE QUEEN’S STAIRCASE. 
 
 Ceiling. 
 
 806. Charles I. and his Queen, as Apollo x 
 and Diana; the Duke of Bucking- l 
 ham, as Mercury, introducing 1 
 them to the Arts and Sciences, j 
 while several Genii are driving away 
 Envy and Malice. 
 
HAMPTON COURT 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 90S. 
 
 909. 
 
 910. 
 
 911. 
 
 9 ! 2 . 
 
 913. 
 
 914. 
 
 915. 
 
 916. 
 
 917 . 
 
 918. 
 
 919 . 
 
 920. 
 
 921. 
 
 022 . 
 
 923. 
 
 924. 
 
 925. 
 
 926 . 
 
 927 . 
 
 928 . 
 
 929 . 
 
 930. 
 
 931. 
 
 932. 
 
 933. 
 
 9341 
 
 935/ 
 
 936) 
 
 937 / 
 
 938) 
 
 939 / 
 
 9401 
 to > 
 943 > 
 
 944. 
 
 945. 
 
 946. 
 
 947 . 
 
 948. 
 
 949 . 
 
 Mademoiselle de Clermont . 
 
 Marianne, Duchess de Bourbon, \ 
 daughter of the Prince de Conti .. *1 
 
 Madame Pompadour.• • 
 
 Cherries in a Dish . 
 
 The Holy Family.. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman. 
 
 View in the West Indies. 
 
 Venus and Satyr. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman... 
 
 Italian Peasants ..... 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Portrait of Himself.. 
 
 An East Indian Scene . 
 
 A Dead Christ. 
 
 Portrait of Raphael. 
 
 The Judgment of Paris . 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering. 
 
 ^Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Nymphs and Satyrs in a Landscape .. 
 
 Worshipping the Host .. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 !es* 
 
 Anonymous • 
 
 Greuze. 
 Daniel Nes. 
 F. Lauri . 
 
 THE ANTE-ROOM. 
 
 Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Knowles 
 Squadron attacking Port Louis 
 St. Domingo, March 8, 1784 
 
 A Dock-yard. 
 
 Deptford Dock-yard . 
 
 The Royal Yacht in a Storm, with) 
 
 Queen Charlotte on board.. j 
 
 Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Knowles* "j 
 Action with a Spanish Squadron ! 
 off the Havannah, in the Isle of f 
 
 Cuba, Oct. 1, 1748...... J 
 
 The Hull of the Sphynx, sixth rate, °\ 
 
 20 guns. j 
 
 The Hull of the Enterprise, sixth 'i 
 
 rate, 28 guns.J 
 
 The Hull of the Kingfisher, a Sloop ,") 
 14 guns ... I 
 
 THE OUEEN’S PRESENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 George III. reviewing the Fleet at") 
 
 Portsmouth. / 
 
 Charles I. returning from Spain. 
 
 Battle-Piece, the Action of Novem-) 
 
 her 4. 1805. J 
 
 Battle-Piece, Sir Robert Calder 
 Action, July 22, 1805..... 
 Battle-Piece, a British Ship engaged'! 
 
 with three Spanish Vessels. j 
 
 The Close of the same Action. 
 
 The Destruction of a Dutch Fleet, 
 and the Town of Bandaris, on the l 
 coast of Holland, by Admiral Sir | 
 R. Holmes, on the 29 th of July, 1666 J 
 
 F. Post . 
 
 Albano. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 M. A. Battaglia . 
 J. de Mabuse . 
 Titian. 
 Anonymous • 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 L. Cranach. 
 
 T. Zuccaro. 
 Giorgione. 
 Poelemberg. 
 Bassano . 
 
 Holbein . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 J. Clevely . 
 R. Paton. 
 
 R. Wright. 
 Anonymous. 
 Marshall. 
 
 r’s j_ 
 
 D. Semes. 
 
 H. C. Vroom. 
 Pocock. 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 Ixxv 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted fey 
 
 CRIMSON VELVET DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 
 William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle ...» 
 Battle ©f the Boyne ...................... 
 
 Virgin and Child.......................... 
 
 Virgin, Child, Elizabeth and Joseph. 
 
 Garland of Flowers........................ 
 
 Landscape, M©rning.. 
 
 Landscape, Evening ...................... 
 
 St. Stephen..... 
 
 Christ and the Woman of Samaria........ 
 
 Venus and Adonis..... 
 
 Virgin and Child.......................... 
 
 Jacob’s Dream..... 
 
 Holy Family... 
 
 The Four Evangelists ... 
 
 Birds.... 
 
 Animals.................................. 
 
 Portrait of a Boy. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell ... 
 
 John, Sixth Eari of Exeter. 
 
 Vandyck» 
 Vandermeulen. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 
 P. Lauri. 
 
 D. Segers* 
 
 Tempesta ,. 
 
 Valentino [After] 
 Correggio . 
 
 S. ChiarL 
 
 Guido. 
 
 D. Fetti. 
 
 C. Maratti . 
 
 L. da Vinci . 
 
 D. Koninck. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 Walker. 
 
 Wissing. 
 
 ONE OF THE NORTH DRAWING-ROOMS. 
 
 
 Lady Rachel Russell.... 
 
 Landscape.... 
 
 Two Sketches ..... 
 
 Mr. Pelham...... 
 
 Mrs. Bates .. 
 
 Lucretia.... 
 
 Elizabeth, Wife of the Third Eari of Exeter 
 Lady Williams.... 
 
 Vandyck , 
 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Bassano, 
 
 Romney. 
 
 A . Kauffman. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Dobson. 
 
 Smith . 
 
 A BED-CHAMBER. 
 
 
 Honourable Mr. Cecil, with Lady and Parrot 
 
 Fruit and Flowers .... .. 
 
 Animals, &c ................. 
 
 Wissing. 
 
 Vunder CabeL 
 
 THI DRESSING- ROOM ADJOINING. 
 
 
 Eve....... 
 
 Old London Bridge. 
 
 Landscape and Figures..... 
 
 Landscape and Ruins.. 
 
 Barbara Vliliers .... 
 
 A Print of St. Hubert .... 
 
 Elizabeth, Countess of Exeter. 
 
 Venus and Satyr . 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 J. and A . Both. 
 
 P. Panini. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Durer, 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Liberi. 
 
 BREAKFAST-ROOM, OR ANTI-LIBRARY. 
 
 
 Solomon and the Queen ©f Sheba .......... 
 
 Mont Blanc ... 
 
 Portrait of Himself. ....................... 
 
 Portrait of Himself. ... .................... 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton. .... 
 
 A. Tassi. 
 
 Edema. 
 
 Verrw. 
 
 Kmiler . 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
10 MR. ANGERSTEIn’s COLLECTION. 
 
 are as airy as they are distinct—the buildings 
 like tombs—and the different groups, and pro¬ 
 cessions of figures, which seem to make life 
 almost as grave and solemn a business as 
 death itself. This picture is said by some to 
 have been designed by Michael Angelo, and 
 painted by Sebastian del Piombo, in rivalship of 
 some of Raphael’s works. It was in the Or¬ 
 leans Gallery. 
 
 Near this large historical composition stands 
 (or is suspended in a case) a single head, by 
 Raphael, of Pope Julius II. [27] It is in itself 
 a Collection—a world of thought and character. 
 There is a prodigious weight and gravity of look, 
 combined with calm self-possession, and easiness 
 of temper. It has the cast of an English coun¬ 
 tenance, which Raphael’s portraits often have, 
 Titian’s never. In Raphael’s the mind, or the 
 body, frequently prevails ; in Titian’s you always 
 see the soul—faces “ which pale passion loves.” 
 Look at the Music-piece by Titian [3], close by 
 in this Collection—it is “ all ear,”—the expression 
 is evanescent as the sounds—the features are seen 
 in a sort of dim chiaro scuro, as if the confused 
 impressions of another sense intervened — and 
 you might easily suppose some of the performers 
 to have been engaged the night before in 
 Mask or midnight serenade, 
 
 Which the starved lover to his mistress sings, 
 
 Best quitted with disdain. 
 
 We like this picture of a Concert the best of 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 
 
 45 
 
 Rousseau are not. The mere English student 
 knows more of the character and spirit of Ra¬ 
 phael’s pictures in the Vatican, from a print, than 
 he does of Ariosto or Tasso from Hoole’s ver¬ 
 sion. There is, however, one exception to the 
 catholic language of painting, which is in French 
 pictures. They are national fixtures, and ought 
 never to be removed from the soil in which they 
 grow. They will not answer any where else, nor 
 are they worth Custom-house duties. Flemish,. 
 Dutch, Spanish, Italian, are all good and intel¬ 
 ligible in their several ways—we know what they 
 mean—theyrequire no interpreter: but theFrench 
 painters see nature with organs and with minds 
 peculiarly their own. One must be born in Franee 
 to understand their painting or their poetry. 
 Their productions in art are either literal, or ex¬ 
 travagant—dry, frigid fac-siviiles, in which they 
 seem to take up nature by pin-poi'nts, or else 
 vapid distorted caricatures, out of all rule and 
 compass. They are, in fact, at home only in the 
 light and elegant; and whenever they attempt 
 to add force or solidity (as they must do in the 
 severer productions of the pencil) they are com¬ 
 pelled to substitute an excess of minute industry 
 for a comprehension of the whole, or make a 
 desperate mechanical effort at extreme expression, 
 instead of giving the true, natural, and powerful 
 workings of passion. Their representations of 
 nature are meagre skeletons, that bear the same 
 relation to the originals that botanical specimens. 
 
48 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 which was certainly superior to the one at the 
 Marquis of Stafford’s. The colouring of the 
 drapery in that too was cold, and the face of 
 the Virgin thin and poor ; but never was infancy 
 laid asleep more calmly, more sweetly, more 
 soundly, than in the figure of our Saviour—the 
 little pouting mouth seemed to drink balmy, in¬ 
 nocent sleep—and the rude expression of won¬ 
 der and delight in the more robust, sun-burnt, 
 fur-clad figure of St. John was as spirited in 
 itself as it was striking, when contrasted with 
 the meeker beauties of the figure opposed to 
 it.—From these we turn to the Four Ages, by 
 Titian, or Giorgione, as some say. Strange 
 that there should have lived two men in the same 
 age, on the same spot of earth, with respect to 
 whom it should bear a question—which of them 
 painted such a picture ! Barry, we remember, 
 and Collins, the miniature-painter, thought it a 
 Giorgione, and they were considered two of the 
 best judges going, at the time this picture was 
 exhibited, among others, in the Orleans Gallery. 
 We cannot pretend to decide on such nice mat¬ 
 ters ex cathedrd; but no painter need be ashamed 
 to own it. The gradations of human life are 
 marked with characteristic felicity, and the land¬ 
 scape, which is thrown in, adds a pastoral charm 
 and naivetd to the whole. To live or to die in 
 such a chosen still retreat, must be happiness! 
 Certainly, this composition suggests a beautiful 
 moral lesson ; and as to the painting of the group 
 
90 THE GR0SVEN0R PICTURES. 
 
 In the opposite corner of the room is a Por¬ 
 trait of a Female (by the same), in which everv 
 thing is as clear, and pointed, and brought out 
 into the open day, as in the former it is with¬ 
 drawn from close and minute inspection. The 
 face glitters with smiles as the ear-rings sparkle 
 with light. The whole is stiff, starched, and 
 formal, has a pearly or metallic look, and you 
 throughout mark the most elaborate and careful 
 finishing. The two pictures make an antithesis, 
 where they are placed 5 but this was not pro¬ 
 bably at all intended : it proceeds simply from 
 the difference in the nature of the subject, and 
 the truth and appropriate power of the treat¬ 
 ment of it.—In the middle between these two 
 pictures is a small history, by Rembrandt, of 
 the Salutation of Elizabeth, in which the figures 
 come out straggling, disjointed, quaint, ugly 
 as in a dream, but partake of the mysterious 
 significance of preternatural communication, 
 and are seen through the visible gloom, or 
 through the dimmer night of antiquity. Light 
 and shade, not form nor feeling, were the ele¬ 
 ments of which Rembrandt composed the finest 
 poetry, and his imagination brooded only over 
 the medium through which we discern objects, 
 leaving the objects themselves uninspired, un¬ 
 hallowed, and untouched ! 
 
 We must go through our account of these 
 pictures as they start up in our memory, not 
 according to the order of their arrangement, for 
 
94 the grosvenor pictures. 
 
 Meeting of Abraham fy Melchisedec, the Gather¬ 
 ing of Manna, the Evangelists, and the Fathers 
 of the Church, have no match in this country 
 for scenic pomp, and dazzling airy effect. The 
 figures are colossal ; and it might be said, 
 without much extravagance, that the drawing 
 and colouring are so too.* He seems to have 
 painted with a huge sweeping gigantic pencil, 
 and with broad masses of unalloyed colour. 
 The spectator is (as it were) thrown back by 
 the pictures, and surveys them, as if placed at a 
 stupendous height, as well as distance from 
 him. This, indeed, is their history: they were 
 painted to be placed in some Jesuit’s church 
 abroad, at an elevation of forty or fifty feet, 
 and Rubens would have started to see them in 
 a drawing-room or on the ground. Had he 
 foreseen such a result, he would perhaps have 
 added something to the correctness of the fea¬ 
 tures, and taken something from the gorgeous 
 crudeness of the colour. But there is grandeur 
 of composition, involution of form, motion, 
 character in its vast, rude outline, the impos¬ 
 ing contrast of sky and flesh, fine grotesque 
 heads of old age, florid youth, and fawn-like 
 beauty! 
 
 You see nothing but patriarchs, primeval men 
 and women, walking among temples, or treading 
 the sky—or the earth, with an “ air and gesture 
 
 * We heard it well said the other day, that “ Rubens’ 
 pictures were the palette of Titian.” 
 
PICTURES 
 
 AT 
 
 WILTON, STOURHEAD, 
 
 &c. 
 
 - ♦ 
 
 Salisbury Plain, barren as it is, is rich in 
 collections and monuments of art. There are, 
 within the distance of a few miles, Wilton, 
 Longford - Castle, Fonthill-Abbey, Stourhead, 
 and last, though not least worthy to be men¬ 
 tioned, Stonehenge, that “ huge, dumb heap,” 
 that stands on the blasted heath, and looks like 
 a group of giants, bewildered, not knowing what 
 to do, encumbering the earth, and turned to 
 stone, while in the act of warring on Heaven. 
 An attempt has lately been made to give to it an 
 antediluvian origin. Its mystic round is in all 
 probability fated to remain inscrutable, a mighty 
 maze without a plan: but still the imagination, 
 when once curiosity and wonder have taken 
 possession of it, heaves with its restless load, 
 launches conjecture farther and farther back 
 beyond the landmarks of time, and strives to 
 bear down all impediments in its course, as the 
 ocean strives to overleap some vast promontory! 
 
PICTURES AT PETWORTH. 
 
 113 
 
 a lady talking on her fingers, may, perhaps, 
 challenge an exception for itself to the above 
 general censure. 
 
 We wish our readers to go to Pet worth, the 
 seat of Lord Egremont, where they will find the 
 coolest grottos and the finest Vandykes in the 
 world. There are eight or ten of the latter that 
 are not to be surpassed by the art of man, and 
 that we have no power either to admire or praise 
 as they deserve. For simplicity, for richness, 
 for truth of nature, for airiness of execution, 
 nothing ever was or can be finer. We will only 
 mention those of the Earl and Countess of Nor¬ 
 thumberland, Lord Newport, and Lord Goring, 
 Lord Stralford, and Lady Carr, and the Duchess 
 of Devonshire. He who possesses these portraits 
 is rich indeed, if he has an eye to see, and a heart 
 to feel them. The one of Lord Northumberland 
 in the Tower is not so good, though it is thought 
 better by the multitude. That is, there is a 
 subject—something to talk about; but, in fact, 
 the expression is not that of grief, or thought, or 
 of dignified resignation, but of a man in ill health. 
 Vandyke was a mere portrait-painter, but he was 
 a perfect one. His forte was not the romantic 
 or pathetic ; he was “of the court, courtly.” He 
 had a patent from the hand of nature to paint 
 lords and ladies in prosperity and quite at their 
 ease. There are some portraits by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds in this Collection; and there are people 
 who persist in naming him and Vandyke in the 
 
 i 
 
124 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 same room with the Rembrandts, that dazzled 
 me many years ago, and delighted me the other 
 day. It looked as sparkling as if the sky came 
 through the frame. I found, or fancied I found, 
 those pictures the best that I remembered before, 
 though they might in the interval have faded a 
 little to my eyes, or lost some of their original 
 brightness. I did not see the small head of 
 Queen Mary by Holbein, which formerly struck 
 me so forcibly ; but I have little doubt respecting 
 it, for Holbein was a sure hand ; he only wanted 
 effect, and this picture looked through you. One 
 of my old favourites was the Head of an Angel, 
 by Guido, nearly a profile, looking up, and with 
 wings behind the back. It was hung lower than 
 it used to be, and had, I thought, a look less 
 aerial, less heavenly; but there was still a pulpy 
 softness in it, a tender grace, an expression un¬ 
 utterable—which only the pencil, his pencil, 
 could convey! And are we not then beholden to 
 the art for these glimpses of Paradise ? Surely, 
 there is a sweetness in Guido’s heads, as there 
 is also a music in his name. If Raphael did 
 more, it was not with the same ease. His heads 
 have more meaning; but Guido’s have a look 
 of youthful innocence, which his are without. 
 As to the boasted picture of Christ by Carlo 
 Dolce, if a well-painted table-cloth and silver- 
 cup are worth three thousand guineas, the 
 picture is so, but not else. One touch of Paul 
 Veronese is worth all this enamelling twice over. 
 The head has a wretched mawkish expression, 
 
13? 
 
 PICTURES AT OXFORD. 
 
 is “ majestic, though in ruins.” It represents 
 three young ladies practising at a harpsichord, 
 with their music-master looking on. One of the 
 girls is tall, with prominent features seen in pro¬ 
 file, but exquisitely fair, and with a grave expres¬ 
 sion ; the other is a lively, good-humoured girl, 
 in a front view ; and the third leans forward from 
 behind, looking down with a demure, reserved, 
 sentimental cast of countenance, but very pretty, 
 and much like an English face. The teacher has 
 a manly countenance, with a certain blended air 
 of courtesy and authority. It is a fascinating 
 picture, to our thinking ; and has that marked 
 characteristic look, belonging to each individual 
 and to the subject, which is always to be found 
 in Titian’s groups. We also noticed a dingy, 
 melancholy-looking Head over the window of the 
 farthest room, said to be a Portrait of Vandyke, 
 with something striking in the tone and expres¬ 
 sion ; and a small Adam and Eve driven out of 
 Paradise, attributed to Giuseppe Ribera, which 
 has considerable merit. The amateur will here 
 find continual copies (of an indifferent class) of 
 many of his old favourite pictures of the Italian 
 school, Titian, Domenichino, Correggio, and 
 others. But the most valuable part of the Col¬ 
 lection consists of four undoubted Heads cut 
 out of one of the Cartoons, which was destroyed 
 by fire about a hundred years ago: they are here 
 preserved in their pristine integrity. They shew 
 us what the Cartoons were. They have all the 
 
PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 139 
 
 trellis-work, representing nothing, hung round 
 them ; and the flesh looks monotonous and hard, 
 like the rind of fruit. On the other hand, this 
 last objection seems to be answered satisfactorily 
 enough, and without impugning the skill of the 
 artist; for the pictures are actually painted on 
 skins of leather. In all other respects, they 
 might assuredly be by Titian, and we know of 
 no other painter who was capable of achieving 
 their various excellences. The drawing of the 
 female figure is correct and elegant in a high 
 degree, and might be supposed to be borrowed 
 from classic sculpture,but that it is more soft, more 
 feminine, more lovely. The colouring, with the 
 exception already stated, is true, spirited, golden, 
 harmonious. The grouping and attitudes are 
 heroic, the expression in some of the faces divine. 
 We do not mean, of course, that it possesses the 
 elevation or purity that Raphael or Correggio 
 could give, but it is warmer, more thrilling and 
 ecstatic. There is the glow and ripeness of a 
 more genial clime, the purple light of love, 
 crimsoned blushes, looks bathed in rapture, kisses 
 with immortal sweetness in their taste—-Nay, 
 then, let the reader go and see the pictures, and 
 no longer lay the blame of this extravagance 
 on us. We may at any rate repeat the subjects. 
 They are eight in number. 1. Mars and Venus. 
 The Venus is well worthy to be called the Queen 
 of Love, for shape, for air, for every thing. Her 
 redoubteci lover is a middle-aged, ill-looking 
 
146 
 
 ON HOGARTH S 
 
 his eyes are turned up with an ironical leer of 
 triumph to the Procuress. The commanding 
 attitude and size of this woman, the swelling 
 circumference of her dress, spread out like a 
 turkey cock’s feathers,—the fierce, ungovernable 
 inveterate malignity of her countenance, which 
 hardly needs the comment of the clasp-knife to 
 explain her purpose, are all admirable in them¬ 
 selves, and still more so as they are opposed to 
 the mute insensibility, the elegant negligence 
 of the dress, and the childish figure of the girl, 
 who is supposed to be her protegee .—As for the 
 Quack, there can be no doubt entertained about 
 him. His face seems as if it were composed 
 of salve, and his features exhibit all the chaos 
 and confusion of the most gross, ignorant, and 
 impudent empiricism. 
 
 The gradations of ridiculous affectation in the 
 Music Scene are finely imagined and preserved. 
 The preposterous, overstrained admiration of 
 the Lady of Quality, the sentimental, insipid, 
 patient delight of the Man, with his hair in 
 paper, and sipping his tea,—the pert, smirking, 
 conceited, half-distorted approbation of the figure 
 next to him, the transition to the total in¬ 
 sensibility of the round face in profile, and then 
 to the wonder of the Negro-boy at the rapture 
 of his Mistress, form a perfect whole. The 
 sanguine complexion and flame-coloured hair of 
 the female Virtuoso throw an additional light on 
 the character. This is lost in the print. The 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-M0DE. 147 
 
 continuing the red colour of the hair into the 
 back of the chair has been pointed out as one 
 of those instances of alliteration in colouring of 
 which these pictures are every where full. The 
 gross bloated appearance of the Italian Singer 
 is well relieved by the hard features of the in¬ 
 strumental performer behind him, which might 
 be carved of wood. The Negro-boy, holding 
 the chocolate, both in expression, colour, and 
 execution, is a master-piece. The gay, lively 
 derision of the other Negro-boy, playing with 
 the Actaeon, is an ingenious contrast to the pro¬ 
 found amazement of the first. Some account 
 has already been given of the two lovers in this 
 picture. It is curious to observe the infinite 
 activity of mind which the artist' displays on 
 every occasion. An instance occurs in the pre¬ 
 sent picture. He has so contrived the papers in 
 the hair of the Bride as to make them look 
 almost like a wreath of half-blown flowers, 
 while those which he has placed on the head 
 of the musical Amateur very much resemble a 
 chevaux-de-frise of horns, which adorn and fortify 
 the lack-lustre expression and mild resignation 
 of the face beneath. 
 
 The Night Scene is inferior to the rest of the 
 series. The attitude of the Husband, who is just 
 killed, is one in which it would be impossible for 
 him to stand or even to fall. It resembles the 
 loose pasteboard figures they make for children. 
 The characters in the last picture, in which the 
 
 l 2 
 
170 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 truth is the same thing as splendour. Every 
 thing is done by the severity of his eye, by the 
 patience of his touch. He is enabled to keep 
 pace with nature by never hurrying on before 
 her j and as he forms the broadest masses out of 
 innumerable varying parts and minute touches 
 of the pencil, so he unites and harmonizes the 
 strongest contrasts by the most imperceptible 
 transitions. Every distinction is relieved and 
 broken by some other intermediate distinction, 
 like half-notes in music; and yet all this ac¬ 
 cumulation of endless variety is so managed as 
 only to produce the majestic simplicity of nature, 
 so that to a common eye there is nothing extra¬ 
 ordinary in his pictures, any more than in nature 
 itself. It is, I believe, owing to what has been 
 here stated, that Titian is, of all painters, at once 
 the easiest and the most difficult to copy. He 
 is the most difficult to copy perfectly, for the 
 artifice of his colouring and execution is hid in 
 its apparent simplicity; and yet the knowledge 
 of nature, and the arrangement of the forms and 
 masses in his pictures, are so masterly that any 
 copy made from them, even the rudest outline or 
 sketch, can hardly fail to have a look of high 
 art. Because he was the greatest colourist in 
 the world, this, which was his most prominent, 
 has, for shortness, been considered as his only, 
 excellence ; and he has been said to have been 
 ignorant of drawing. What he was, generally 
 speaking, deficient in, was invention or compo- 
 
174 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 the Roman expression, nor the high character, 
 picturesque costume, and sun-burnt hues which 
 the Venetian painters had immediately before 
 them. He took, however, what circumstances 
 presented to him, a fresher and more blooming 
 tone of complexion, arising from moister air 
 and a colder climate. To this he added the 
 congenial splendour of reflected lights and 
 shadows, cast from rich drapery; and he made 
 what amends he could for the want of expression 
 by the richness of his compositions and the fan¬ 
 tastic variety of his allegorical groups. Both his 
 colouring and his drawing were, however, ideal 
 exaggerations; but both had particular qualities 
 of the highest virtue. He has given to his flesh 
 greater transparency and freshness than any other 
 painter; and this excellence he had from nature. 
 One of the finest instances will be found in his 
 Peasant Family going to Market, in which the 
 figures have all the bloom of health upon their 
 countenances ; and the very air of the surround¬ 
 ing landscape strikes sharp and wholesome on 
 the sense. Rubens had another excellence : he 
 has given all that relates to the expression of 
 motion, in his allegorical figures, in his children, 
 his animals, even in his trees, to a degree which 
 no one else has equalled, or indeed approached. 
 His drawing is often deficient in proportion, in 
 knowledge, and in elegance, but it is always pic¬ 
 turesque. The drawing of N. Poussin, on the 
 contrary, which has been much cried up, is 
 
196 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 himself, amiable; but a too constant desire to 
 please almost unavoidably leads to affectation and 
 effeminacy. He wanted that vigour of intellect 
 which perceives the beauty of truth : and thought 
 that painting was to be gained, like other mis¬ 
 tresses, by flattery and smiles. It was an error 
 which we are disposed to forgive in one around 
 whose memory, both as an artist and a man 
 many fond recollections, many vain regrets, must 
 alway s linger.* 
 
 The authority of Sir Joshua Reynolds, both 
 from his example and instructions, has had, and 
 still continues to have, a considerable influence 
 on the state of art in this country. That influ¬ 
 ence has been, on the whole, unquestionably 
 beneficial in itself, as well as highly creditable 
 to the rare talents and elegant mind of Sir 
 Joshua; for it has raised the art of painting from 
 the lowest state of degradation,—of dry, meagre, 
 lifeless inanity,—to something at least respecta¬ 
 ble, and bearing an affinity to the rough strength 
 and bold spirit of the national character. Whether 
 the same implicit deference to his authority, which 
 has helped to advance the art thus far, may not, 
 among other causes, limit and retard its future 
 progress,—whether there are not certain original 
 errors, both in his principles and practice, which 
 
 * The idea of the necessity of improving upon nature, 
 and giving what was called a flattering likeness, was uni¬ 
 versal in this country fifty years ago, so that Gainsborough 
 is not to be so much blamed for tampering with his subjects. 
 
234 
 
 ON TUB FINE ARTS. 
 
 bent of his own genius, the painter was most 
 likely to consult the law of his judges. He 
 had not to deal with pretenders to taste, through 
 vanity, affectation, and idleness. He had to 
 appeal to the higher faculties of the soul,— 
 to that deep and innate sensibility to truth and 
 beauty, which required only fit objects to have 
 its enthusiasm excited, and to that independent 
 strength of mind which, in the midst of igno¬ 
 rance and barbarism, hailed and fostered genius 
 wherever it met with it. Titian was patronised 
 by Charles the Fifth. Count Castiglione was 
 the friend of Raphael. These were true patrons 
 and true critics; and, as there were no others 
 (for the world, in general, merely looked on 
 and wondered), there can be little doubt that 
 such a period of dearth of factitious patronage 
 would be most favourable to the full develop¬ 
 ment of the greatest talents, and to the attain¬ 
 ment of the highest excellence. 
 
 The diffusion of taste is not, then, the same 
 thing as the improvement of taste ; but it is only 
 the former of these objects that is promoted by 
 public institutions and other artificial means. 
 The number of candidates for fame, and of pre¬ 
 tenders to criticism, is thus increased beyond 
 all proportion, but the quantity of genius and 
 feeling remains the same, with this difference, 
 that the man of genius is lost in the crowd of 
 competitors, who would never have become 
 such but from encouragement and example ■ 
 
268 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 will cease to be a God ! Let Momus distend 
 his jaws with laughter as far as laughter can 
 stretch them, but no farther; or the expression 
 will be that of pain and not of pleasure. Be¬ 
 sides, overcharging the expression or action 
 of any one feature will suspend the action of 
 others. The whole face will no longer laugh. 
 But this universal suffusion of broad mirth and 
 humour over the countenance is very different 
 from a placid smile, midway between grief and 
 joy. Yet a classical Momus, by modern theories 
 of the ideal, ought to be such a nonentity in 
 expression. The ancients knew better. They 
 pushed art into such subjects to the verge of 
 “ all we hate,” while they felt the point beyond 
 which it could not be urged with propriety, i. e. 
 with truth, consistency, and consequent effect. 
 
 There is no difference, in philosophical reason¬ 
 ing, between the mode of art here insisted on, 
 and the ideal regularity of such figures as the 
 Apollo, the Hercules, the Mercury, the Venus, 
 &c. All these are, as it were, personifications, 
 essences, abstractions of certain qualities or virtues 
 in human nature, not of human nature in general, 
 which would make nonsense. Instead of being 
 abstractions of all sorts of qualities jumbled 
 together in a neutral character, they are in the 
 opposite sense abstractions of some single quality 
 or customary combination of qualities, leaving 
 out all others as much as possible, and imbuing 
 every part with that one predominant character 
 
276 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 it would be rather more perfect, as being more 
 like nature. Suppose a strong light to fall on 
 one side of a face, and a deep shadow to involve 
 the whole of the other. This would produce 
 two distinct and large masses in the picture; 
 which answers to the conditions of what is called 
 the grand style of composition. Well, would it 
 destroy these masses to give the smallest veins 
 or variation of colour or surface in the light side, 
 or to shade the other with the most delicate and 
 elaborate chiaroscuro ? It is evident not; from 
 common sense, from the practice of the best 
 masters, and, lastly, from the example of nature, 
 which contains both the larger masses, the 
 strongest contrasts, and the highest finishing, 
 within itself. The integrity of the whole, then, 
 is not impaired by the indefinite subdivision and 
 smallness of the parts. The grandeur of the ulti¬ 
 mate effects depends entirely on the arrangement 
 of these in a certain form or under certain 
 masses. The Ilissus, or River-god, is floating in 
 his proper element, and is, in appearance, as firm 
 as a rock, as pliable as a wave of the sea. The 
 artist’s breath might be said to mould and play 
 upon the undulating surface. The whole is ex¬ 
 panded into noble proportions, and heaves with 
 general effect. What then ? Are the parts un¬ 
 finished ; or are they not there ? No; they 
 are there with the nicest exactness, but in 
 due subordination; that is, they are there as 
 they are found in fine nature ; and float upon 
 
280 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 cannot be the mean proportion of the form of 
 noses. For, first, most noses are broader at the 
 bottom than at the top, inclining to the negro 
 head, but none are broader at the top than at 
 the bottom, to produce the Greek form as a 
 balance between both. Almost all noses sink in 
 immediately under the forehead bone, none ever 
 project there j so that the nearly straight line 
 continued from the forehead cannot be a mean 
 proportion struck between the two extremes 
 of convex and concave form in this feature of 
 the face. There must, therefore, be some other 
 principle of symmetry, continuity, &c., to ac¬ 
 count for the variation from the prescribed rule. 
 Once more (not to multiply instances tediously), 
 a double calf is undoubtedly the perfection of 
 beauty in the form of the leg. But this is a rare 
 thing. Nor is it the medium between two com¬ 
 mon extremes. For the muscles seldom swell 
 enough to produce this excrescence, if it may be 
 so called, and never run to an excess there, so as, 
 by diminishing the quantity, to subside into pro¬ 
 portion and beauty. But this second or lower 
 calf is a connecting link between the upper calf 
 and the small of the leg, and is just like a second 
 chord or half-note in music. We conceive that 
 any one who does not perceive the beauty of the 
 Venus de Medicis, for instance, in this respect, 
 has not the proper perception of form in his 
 mind. As this is the most disputable, or at least 
 the most disputed part of our theory, we may. 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 289 
 
 the mind and expand the form, while the other 
 only produces a sense of listless vacuity, and 
 disposes us to shrink into our own littleness. 
 
 Whence is this, but that in the first case out 
 associations of power, of interest, are general, 
 and tend to aggrandize the species and that in 
 the latter (viz. the case of private property) 
 they are exclusive and tend to aggrandize none 
 but the individual? This must be the effect, 
 unless there is something grand or beautiful in 
 the objects themselves that makes us forget the 
 distinction of mere property, as from the noble 
 architecture or great antiquity of a building; or 
 unless they remind us of common and universal 
 nature, as pictures, statues do, like so many 
 mirrors, reflecting the external landscape, and 
 carrying us out of the magic circle of self-love. 
 But all works of art come under the head of 
 property or showy furniture, which are neither 
 distinguished by sublimity nor beauty, and are 
 estimated only by the labour required to produce 
 what is trifling or worthless, and are conse¬ 
 quently nothing more than obtrusive proofs of 
 the wealth of the immediate possessor. The 
 motive for the production of such toys is mer¬ 
 cenary, and the admiration of them childish or 
 servile. That which pleases merely from its no¬ 
 velty, or because it was never seen before, can¬ 
 not be expected to please twice : that which is 
 remarkable for the difficulty or costliness of the 
 execution can be interesting to no one but the 
 
 v 
 
308 
 
 FLAXMAN S LECTURES 
 
 that from this state of anxiety and awe with 
 which it regards its appointed task,—the un¬ 
 known bourne that lies before it, such startling 
 revelations of the world of truth and beauty are 
 often struck out when one might least expect it, 
 and that art has sometimes leaped at one vast 
 bound from its cradle to its grave! Mr. Flaxman, 
 however, strongly inculcates the contrary theory, 
 and is for raising up art to its most majestic 
 height by the slow and circuitous process of an 
 accumulation of rules and machinery. He seems 
 to argue that its advance is on a gradually in¬ 
 clined plane, keeping pace and co-extended with 
 that of Science ; ‘ growing with its growth, and 
 strengthening witli its strength.’ It appears to 
 us that this is not rightly to weigh the essential 
 differences either of science or art; and that it 
 is flying in the face both of fact and argument. 
 He says it took sculpture nine hundred or a 
 thousand years to advance from its first rude 
 commencement to its perfection in Greece and 
 Egypt: but we must remember that the greatest 
 excellence of the fine arts, both in Greece and 
 Italy, and in Holland, was concentrated into 
 little more than a century ; and again, if Art and 
 Science were synonymous, there can be no doubt 
 that knowledge of anatomy and geometry is more 
 advanced in England in the present day than it 
 was at Athens in the time of Pericles ; but is 
 our sculpture therefore superior ? The answer to 
 this is, “No ; but it ought to be, and it will be.” 
 
X2X 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 857 . 
 
 858 . 
 859 - 
 
 860 . 
 
 861. 
 
 862. 
 
 863 . 
 
 864 . 
 
 865 . 
 
 866 . 
 
 867. 
 
 868 . 
 869. 
 8 / 0 . 
 
 871 . 
 
 872 . 
 
 873 . 
 
 874 . 
 
 875 . 
 
 8 / 6 . 
 
 877 . 
 
 878 . 
 879 - 
 880 . 
 881 . 
 882 . 
 
 883 . 
 
 884 . 
 
 885 . 
 
 886 . 
 
 887 . 
 
 888 . 
 
 889 - 
 
 890 . 
 
 891 . 
 
 892 . 
 
 893 . 
 
 894 . 
 
 895 . 
 
 896. 
 
 897 - 
 
 898 . 
 
 899 - 
 
 900. 
 
 901 . 
 
 902. 
 
 903 . 
 
 904 . 
 
 905 . 
 
 906 . 
 
 907 . 
 
 Title of Fictnre. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 THE QUEEN s GUARD CHAMBER. 
 
 The Triumph of Bacchus. 
 
 A Fruit Piece . 
 
 Christ in the House of Alary and'i 
 
 Martha.J 
 
 The Murder of the Innocents. 
 
 An Incantation . 
 
 Portrait of Gentz. 
 
 Fair Rosamond Clifford. 
 
 C. F. Abel, an eminent musician and ) 
 
 composer .J 
 
 Philip III. of Spain. 
 
 Portrait of a Alan in Armour . 
 
 Portrait of a Youth. 
 
 Airs Delany. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady. 
 
 Duke of Gloucester, Son of Queen T 
 
 Anne ./ 
 
 Alary de Aledicb. 
 
 Whole-length Portrait of a Child .... 
 
 Henry IV. of France .. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady in a large ruff.. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Sir I. Newton . 
 
 Samson and Dalilah . 
 
 John Locke . 
 
 The Assembly of the Gods . 
 
 The Burning of Rome . 
 
 The Earl of Aloira. 
 
 The King of Oude receiving Tribute .. 
 
 A Wild Boar Hunt. 
 
 The Comic Aluse. 
 
 Francis, Duke of Bedford . 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 St. Jerome. 
 
 The Alarquis del Guasto, and Page.... 
 
 A Sea Port. . 
 
 Portrait of Himself . 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Portrait of Tintoretto. 
 
 Portrait of Holbein. 
 
 Portrait of Giulio Romano . 
 
 Portrait of Michael Angelo . 
 
 Portrait of P. del Vaga. 
 
 The Triumph of Bacchus, Venus, T 
 
 and Ariadne./ 
 
 Interior of a Hall, with Figures. 
 
 St. George and the Fair Princess, 'I 
 
 Cleodohnde. J 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Cleopatra . 
 
 Still Life...... 
 
 A Landscape, with Cattle. 
 
 Christian VII. of Denmark. 
 
 Charles XU. of Sweden. 
 
 Frederick II. of Prussia. 
 
 The Queen of Frederick II. of Denmark 
 
 Ciro Ferri. 
 
 De Heem. 
 
 Vriese, 
 
 Old Brueghel. 
 
 J. Bos. 
 
 Sir T. Lawrence. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Robineau. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Opie. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 Kneller . 
 
 Pourbus. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Pourbus. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Sir G. Kneller. 
 B. Sprangher. 
 Giulio Romano. 
 J. Huppner. 
 Home. 
 
 Snyders. 
 
 J. Hoppner. 
 
 Carlo Cignani. 
 
 J. de Hennessen. 
 Titian. 
 
 Parcelles. 
 
 Giacomo Bassuno. 
 Sir P. Lely. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Romanelli, after Guido. 
 Van Delen. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Caracci. 
 
 Roestraeten. 
 
 Swuneveldt. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
GROSVENOR HOUSE, 
 
 xliii 
 
 116. 
 
 1 ) 7 . 
 
 118 . 
 
 119 - 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123 . 
 
 124 . 
 
 125 . 
 
 126. 
 
 127 - 
 
 128 . 
 
 129 . 
 
 130 . 
 
 131 . 
 
 132 . 
 
 133 . 
 
 134 . 
 
 135 . 
 
 136 . 
 
 137 . 
 
 138 . 
 
 139 . 
 
 140 . 
 
 141 . 
 
 142 . 
 
 143 . 
 
 A Farm Yard, with Cattle. 
 
 Portrait of Berghem’s Wife .... 
 
 A Man with a Hawk. 
 
 An Italian Scene, with Figures 
 
 Landscape, with Fishermen .... 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Virgin and St Elizabeth . 
 
 Interior of a Chamber . 
 
 Portrait of Berghem . 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 A. Vandervelde. 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 DINING ROOM. 
 
 A Madonna ... 
 
 Diogenes . 
 
 Macbeth and the Witches .. 
 
 A Sea Port on the Mediterranean,'! 
 
 with Shipping and Figures .J 
 
 A Flower Piece. 
 
 Joseph’s Dream . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 St. Veronica. 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 The Vision of St. Jerome. 
 
 The Wise Men’s Offering. 
 
 The Marys at the Tomb . 
 
 Magdalen, with Angels. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Head of St. John. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Portrait of the Prince of Asturias. 
 
 A Head of Christ. 
 
 Lc Nain. 
 Rembrandt and 
 Teniers. 
 
 C. Vanderwerf. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Gerhard Douw. 
 Rembrandt . 
 
 Guercino. 
 Spagnoletto. 
 Zuccarelli. 
 Vernet. 
 
 Mignon . 
 Mengs. 
 
 Claude. 
 Morales. 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 Parmegiano. 
 Rubens. 
 
 S. Rosa. 
 
 Schedoni. 
 
 Horizonte. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 A. del Sarto. 
 
laxiv 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Pi'nted by 
 
 Female Figures . 
 
 General Paoli .. 
 
 Pigeons. 
 
 Vertumnus and Pomona. 
 
 Anne, Countess of Exeter. 
 
 Venetia Anastasia Stanley, Lady Digby .... 
 
 Landscape ... 
 
 Virgin... 
 
 Two Heads (in pencil) . 
 
 Henry VIII. (enamel) . 
 
 [After] Giorgione. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Dyers. 
 
 P. Brilliant. 
 
 Petitot. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 R. Mangoni . 
 
 A. Posse. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 EAST GLASS-CASE, OR CABINET. 
 
 Virgin and Child 
 
 Venus and Adonis (water colours; after Titian. 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Oliver . 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Cooper. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Elizabeth, wife of the Third Earl of Devon- 'i 
 
 shire (enamel on gold) ./ 
 
 Erne 8 tus Augustus, Elector of Hanover, and ”1 
 
 his Wife, Parents of Geo. I./ 
 
 Charles Edward, the Toung Pretender. 
 
 
 
 John, Fourth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Elizabeth, Wife of Third Earl of Exeter .... 
 Anne, Wife of Tenth Earl of Northumber- 1 
 
 berland. J 
 
 Elizabeth, Second Wife of the same Noble-1 
 
 man ./ 
 
 Our Saviour crowned with thorns. 
 
 A Young Lady, her Brother, and Black \ 
 Servant (water colours). j 
 
 Hoskins. 
 Anonymous . 
 Hoskins. 
 
 Cooper. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Dixon. 
 
 Mrs. Muron. 
 Anonymous. 
 Hoskins. 
 
 William Cecil, Lord Ross. 
 
 Sir Edward Cecil, Lord Wimbledon. 
 
 
 Silvia Stern. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 Portrait of Himself (on a card) . 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 Hoskins. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Hoskins. 
 Anonymous. 
 Hoskins . 
 
 
 A Cardinal (on Ivory) . 
 
 Another. 
 
 Henrietta Maria, Wife of Charles I. 
 
 Christ taken down from the Cross. 
 
 Mercury, Venus, and Cupid. 
 
 CRIMSON VELVET BED-ROOM. 
 
 Hebe.{ 
 
 Abraham dismissing Hagar and Ishmael .... 
 
 Death of Rachael . 
 
 Thomas Howard, Third Earl of Norfolk .... 
 
 Interior of a College. 
 
 Head of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex .. 
 Portrait (unknown). 
 
 [After] Hamilton. 
 
 A. Kauffman. 
 A. Celesti. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 F. Buroccio. 
 Anonymous. 
 
BLENHEIM. 
 
 lxxix 
 
 So. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 52 . 
 
 53 . 
 
 54 . 
 
 55 . 
 
 56 . 
 57 - 
 58 . 
 50 . 
 60. 
 61. 
 62. 
 
 63 . 
 
 64 . 
 
 65 ) 
 t0 C 
 
 68 J 
 
 69 - 
 
 70 . 
 
 71 . 
 
 72 . 
 
 73 . 
 
 74 . 
 
 75 . 
 
 76 . 
 
 77 . 
 
 78 . 
 
 79 . 
 
 80 . 
 81 . 
 82 . 
 83 . 
 
 84 . 
 
 85 . 
 
 86 . 
 87 - 
 68 . 
 89 - 
 90 . 
 91 
 92. 
 
 03 . 
 
 94 . 
 
 95 . 
 
 96 . 
 
 97 . 
 
 98 . 
 
 99 . 
 
 J00. 
 
 101 . 
 
 102 . 
 
 103 . 
 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Vandyck . 
 
 
 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 
 
 
 
 Kneller (?) 
 Correggio. 
 Bamboccio . 
 Claude . 
 
 Titian . 
 
 Kneller . 
 
 Holbein . 
 
 T illemans. 
 
 Myttens. 
 Vandyck . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Duchess of Buckingham and Family 
 
 
 Pater. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Paul Bryl. 
 Rembrandt. 
 Rosa di Tivoii. 
 G. Poussin. 
 Kneller. 
 Rubens. 
 Cunaletti . 
 
 
 
 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 
 
 
 
 F. Mola. 
 Canaletti. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 
 GRAND CABINET. 
 
 
 
 j 
 
 
 1 
 
 The Miraculous Conception. 
 
 Raphael’s Dorothea. 
 
 Head of Rubens. 
 
 Pope Gregory a: d a Female Penitent.. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 IThe Offering of the Magi. 
 
 A Madonna . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Our Saviour blessing the Children ... 
 
 ! Carlo Dolce. 
 
 1 Raphael. 
 
 1 Rubens. 
 i Titian. 
 
 ' L. Curacci. 
 Rubens. 
 
 C. Maratti . 
 Rubens. 
 
 
 The Late Lord Spencer when a Boy .. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 LITTLE DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 (Beginning opposite the Entrance from 
 the Grand Cabinet.) 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery. 
 
 The Rape of the Sabines. 
 
 A Family Piece. 
 
 A Lanri>cape. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 P. da Cortona . 
 
 Gonzales. 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 G. Poussin. 
 
PICTURES AT WINDSOR CASTLE, 
 
 wrought expression of features ■, and the whole 
 scene is in harmony with the subject. The 
 Venus attired by the Graces (though full of 
 beauties, particularly the colouring of the flesh 
 in the frail Goddess) is formal and disjointed in 
 the composition; and some of the actions are 
 void of grace and even of decorum. We allude 
 particularly to the Maid-in-waiting, who is comb¬ 
 ing her hair, and to the one tying on her sandals, 
 with her arm crossing Venus’s leg at right 
 angles. The Cupid in the window is as light 
 and wanton as a butterfly flying out of it. He 
 may be said to flutter and hover in his own 
 delights. There are two capital engravings of 
 these pictures by Strange. 
 
THE 
 
 PICTURES AT HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 -«- 
 
 This palace is a very magnificent one, and, we 
 think, has been undeservedly neglected. It is 
 Dutch-built, of handsome red brick, and belongs 
 to a class of houses the taste for which appears 
 to have been naturalised in this country along 
 with the happy introduction of the Houses of 
 Orange and Hanover. The approach to it 
 through Bushy-park is delightful, inspiriting at 
 this time of year ; and the gardens about it, with 
 their close-clipped holly hedges and arbours of 
 evergreen, look an artificial summer all the year 
 round. The statues that are interspersed do not 
 freeze in winter, and are cool and classical in 
 the warmer seasons. The Toy-Inn stands oppor¬ 
 tunely at the entrance, to invite the feet of 
 those who are tired of a straggling walk from 
 Brentford or Kew, or oppressed with thought 
 and wonder after seeing the Cartoons. 
 
 Besides these last, however, there are several 
 i fine pictures here. We shall pass over the 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 81 
 
 they themselves pretend to accomplish by affec¬ 
 tation and bombast. 
 
 Elymas the Sorcerer (607) stands next in order, 
 and is equal in merit. There is a Roman stern¬ 
 ness and severity in the general look of the scene. 
 The figure of the apostle, who is inflicting the 
 punishment of blindness on the impostor, is 
 grand, commanding, full of ease and dignity: 
 and the figure of Elymas is blind all over, and is 
 muffled up in its clothes from head to foot. A 
 story is told of Mr. Garrick’s objecting to the 
 natural effect of the action, in the hearing of the 
 late Mr. West, who, in vindication of the painter, 
 requested the celebrated comedian to close his 
 eyes and walk across the room, when he instantly 
 stretched out his hands, and began to grope his 
 way with the exact attitude and expression of 
 this noble study. It may be worth remarking 
 here that this great painter and fine observer of 
 human nature has represented the magician with 
 a hard iron visage, and strong uncouth figure, 
 made up of bones and muscles, as one not 
 troubled with weak nerves, nor to be diverted 
 from his purpose by idle scruples 5 as one who 
 repelled all sympathy with others 5 who was not 
 to be moved a jot by their censures or prejudices 
 against him, and who could break with ease 
 through the cobweb snares which he laid for the 
 credulity of mankind, without being once en¬ 
 tangled in his own delusions. His outward form 
 
 G 
 
84 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 the young woman seen directly over him give a 
 glad welcome to the eye in their fresh, unalloyed, 
 and radiant sweetness and joy. This head seems 
 to have been spared from the unhallowed touch 
 of injury, like a little isle or circlet of beauty. 
 It was guarded, we may suppose, by its own 
 heavenly, feminine look of smiling loveliness. 
 There is another very fine female head on the op¬ 
 posite side of the picture, of a graver cast, looking 
 down, and nearly in profile. The only part of 
 this Cartoon that we object to, or should be for 
 turning out, is the lubberly naked figure of a boy 
 close to one of the pillars, who seems to have 
 no sort of business there, and is an obvious 
 eye-sore. 
 
 The Miraculous Draught of Fishes [609] is ad¬ 
 mirable for the clearness and prominence of the 
 figures, for the vigorous marking of the muscles, 
 for the fine expression of devout emotion in the 
 St. Peter, and for the calm dignity in the attitude, 
 and divine benignity in the countenance of the 
 Christ. Perhaps this head expresses, more than 
 any other that was ever attempted, the blended 
 meekness, benevolence, and sublimity in the 
 character of our Saviour. The whole figure is 
 so still, so easy, it almost floats in air, and seems 
 to sustain the boat by the secret sense of power. 
 We shall not attempt to make a formal reply 
 to the old objection to the diminutive size of 
 the boat, but we confess it appears to us to 
 
PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 141 
 
 tion of the artist and the connoisseur, and perhaps 
 some light might be thrown upon the subject 
 of their authenticity by turning over some old 
 portfolios. We have heard a hint thrown out 
 that the designs are of a date prior to Titian. 
 But “ we are ignorance itself in this ! ” 
 
 END OF THE 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE PRINCIPAL PICTURE- 
 GALLERIES IN ENGLAND. 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 145 
 
 figure, face, and attitude of the husband are 
 inimitable. Hogarth has with great skill con¬ 
 trasted the pale countenance of the husband 
 with the yellow whitish colour of the marble 
 chimney-piece behind him, in such a manner as 
 to preserve the fleshy tone of the former. The 
 airy splendour of the view of the inner-room in 
 this picture is probably not exceeded by any of 
 the productions of the Flemish school. 
 
 The Young Girl in the third picture, who is 
 represented as the victim of fashionable pro¬ 
 fligacy, is unquestionably one of the Artist’s 
 chefs-d’oeuvre. The exquisite delicacy of the 
 painting is only surpassed by the felicity and 
 subtlety of the conception. Nothing can be 
 more striking than the contrast between the 
 extreme softness of her person and the hardened 
 indifference of her character. The vacant still¬ 
 ness, the docility to vice, the premature sup¬ 
 pression of youthful sensibility, the doll-like 
 mechanism of the whole figure, which seems to 
 have no other feeling but a sickly sense of pain 
 —shew the deepest insight into human nature, 
 and into the effects of those refinements in 
 depravity, by which it has been good-naturedly 
 asserted that “ vice loses half its evil in losing 
 all its grossness.” The story of this picture is 
 in some parts very obscure and enigmatical. It 
 is certain that the Nobleman is not looking 
 straightforward to the Quack, whom he seems 
 to have been threatening with his cane, but that 
 
 L 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 167 
 
 is filled up with all the details and varieties 
 which such heads would have in nature. So 
 far from any thing like a naked abstract idea, or 
 middle form, the individuality of his faces has 
 something peculiar in it, even approaching the 
 grotesque. He has endeavoured to impress ha¬ 
 bitually on the countenance those undulating 
 outlines which rapture or tenderness leave there, 
 and has chosen for this purpose those forms and 
 proportions which most obviously assisted his 
 design. 
 
 As to the colouring of Correggio, it is nature 
 itself. Not only is the general tone perfectly 
 true, but every speck and particle is varied in 
 colour, in relief, in texture, with a care, a felicity, 
 and an effect which is almost magical. His light 
 and shade are equally admirable. No one else, 
 perhaps, ever gave the same harmony and round¬ 
 ness to his compositions. So true are his sha¬ 
 dows, equally free from coldness, opacity, or false 
 glare;—so clear, so broken, so airy, and yet so 
 deep, that if you hold your hand so as to cast a 
 shadow on any part of the flesh which is in the 
 light, this part, so shaded, will present exactly 
 the same appearance which the painter has given 
 to the shadowed part of the picture. Correggio 
 indeed possessed a greater variety of excellences 
 in the different departments of his art than any 
 other painter; and yet it is remarkable that the 
 impression which his pictures leave upon the 
 mind of the common spectator is monotonous 
 
201 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 single figure of the Infant Hercules is also ad¬ 
 mirable. Many of those to which his friends 
 have suggested historical titles are mere common 
 portraits or casual studies. Thus the Infant 
 Samuel is an innocent little child saying its 
 prayers at the bed’s feet: it has nothing to do 
 with the story of the Hebrew prophet. The 
 same objection will apply to many of his fancy 
 pieces and historical compositions. There is 
 often no connexion between the picture and the 
 subject but the name. Even his celebrated Iphi- 
 genia, beautiful as she is, and prodigal of her 
 charms, does not answer to the idea of the story. 
 In drawing the naked figure. Sir Joshua’s want 
 of truth and firmness of outline became more 
 apparent; and his mode of laying on his colours, 
 which in the face and extremities was relieved 
 and broken by the abrupt inequalities of surface 
 and variety of tints in each part, produce a 
 degree of heaviness and opacity in the larger 
 masses of flesh colour, which can indeed only 
 be avoided by extreme delicacy or extreme light¬ 
 ness of execution. 
 
 Shall 1 speak the truth at once ? In my opinion, 
 Sir Joshua did not possess either that high im¬ 
 agination, or those strong feelings, without which 
 no painter can become a poet in his art. His 
 larger historical compositions have been generally 
 allowed to be most liable to objection in a criti¬ 
 cal point of view. I shall not attempt to judge 
 them by scientific or technical rules, but make 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 258 
 
 or white clouds, or green earth, or grey rocks 
 and towers; what should we say if the artist (so 
 named) were to treat all these “ fair varieties” 
 as so many imperfections and mistakes in the 
 creation, and mass them altogether, by mixing 
 up the colours on his palette in the same dull 
 leaden tone, and call this the true principle of 
 epic landscape-painting? Would not the thing 
 be abominable, an abortion, and worse than the 
 worst Dutch picture ? Variety then is one prin¬ 
 ciple, one beauty in external nature, and not an 
 everlasting source of pettiness and deformity, 
 which must be got rid of at all events, before 
 taste can set its seal upon the work, or fancy 
 own it. 
 
 But, it may be said, it is different in things of 
 the same species, and particularly in man, who 
 is cast in a regular mould, which mould is one. 
 What then, are we, on this pretext, to confound 
 the difference of sex in a sort of hermaphrodite 
 softness, as Mr. Westall, Angelica Kauffman, 
 and others, have done in their effeminate per¬ 
 formances ? Are we to leave out of the scale of 
 legitimate art the extremes of infancy and old 
 age, as not middle terms in man’s life ? Are we 
 to strike off' from the list of available topics and 
 sources of interest the varieties of character, of 
 passion, of strength, activity, &c. ? Is every 
 thing to wear the same form, the same colour, 
 the same unmeaning face ? Are we only to re¬ 
 peat the same average idea of perfection, that is. 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 259 
 
 that art can surpass this most perfect image in 
 nature by combining others with it. What! by 
 joining to the most perfect in its kind something 
 less perfect? Goto,-—this argument will not 
 pass. Suppose you have a goblet of the finest 
 wine that ever was tasted: you will not mend it 
 by pouring into it all sorts of samples of an 
 inferior quality. So the best in nature is the 
 stint and limit of what is best in art: for art can 
 only borrow from nature still: and, moreover, 
 must borrow entire objects, for bits only make 
 patches. 
 
 We defy any landscape-painter to invent out 
 of his own head, and by jumbling together all the 
 different forms of hills he ever saw, by adding a 
 bit to one, and taking a bit from another, any 
 thing equal to Arthur’s seat, with the appendage 
 of Salisbury Crags, that overlooks Edinburgh. 
 Why so ? Eecause there are no levers in the 
 mind of man equal to those with which nature 
 works at her utmost need. No imagination can 
 toss and tumble about huge heaps of earth as 
 the ocean in its fury can. A volcano is more 
 potent to rend rocks asunder than the most 
 splashing pencil. The convulsions of nature 
 can make a precipice more frightfully, or heave 
 the backs of mountains more proudly, or throw 
 their sides into waving lines more gracefully, 
 than all the beau, ideal of art. For there is in 
 nature not only greater power and scope, but 
 (so to speak) greater knowledge and unity of 
 
 s 2 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 269 
 
 to the utmost. The Apollo is a representation 
 of graceful dignity and mental power; the Her¬ 
 cules of bodily strength ; the Mercury of swift¬ 
 ness ; the Venus of female loveliness, and so on. 
 In these, in the Apollo, is surely implied and 
 found more grace than usual; in the Hercules 
 more strength than usual; in the Mercury more 
 lightness than usual; in the Venus more soft¬ 
 ness than usual. Is it not so ? What then be¬ 
 comes of the pretended middle form ? One 
 would think it would be sufficient to prove this, 
 to ask, “Do not these statues differ from one 
 another? And is this difference a defect?” It 
 would be ridiculous to call them by different 
 names, if they were not supposed to represent 
 different and peculiar characters: sculptors should, 
 in that case, never carve any thing but the statue 
 of a man, the statue of a woman, &c., and this 
 would be the name of perfection. 
 
 This theory of art is not at any rate justified 
 by the history of art. An extraordinary quantity 
 of bone and muscle is as proper to the Hercules 
 as his club, and it would be strange if the God¬ 
 dess of Love had not a more delicately rounded 
 form, and a more languishing look withal, than 
 the Goddess of Hunting. That a form combining 
 and blending the properties of both, the downy 
 softness of the one with the elastic buoyancy 
 of the other, would be more perfect than either, 
 we no more see than that grey is the most 
 perfect of colours. At any rate, this is the 
 
FONTHILE ABBEY. 
 
 291 
 
 higher and more expansive emanations of 
 thought, shrinks from their display with con¬ 
 scious weakness and inferiority ? If it were an 
 apprehension of an invidious comparison between 
 the proprietor and the author of any signal work 
 of genius, which the former did not covet, one 
 would think he must be at least equally mor¬ 
 tified at sinking to a level in taste and pursuits 
 with the maker of a Dutch toy. Mr. Beckford, 
 however, has always had the credit of the highest 
 taste in works of art as well as in vertu. As 
 the showman in Goldsmith’s comedy declares 
 that “ his bear dances to none but the genteelest 
 of tunes— Water parted from the Sea, The Minuet 
 in Ariadne —so it was supposed that this cele¬ 
 brated collector’s money went for none but the 
 finest Claudes and the choicest specimens of 
 some rare Italian master. The two Claudes are 
 gone. It is as well—they must have felt a little 
 out of their place here—they are kept in coun¬ 
 tenance, where they are, by the very best com¬ 
 pany ! 
 
 We once happened to have the pleasure of 
 seeing Mr. Beckford in the Great Gallery of the 
 Louvre—he was very plainly dressed in a loose 
 great coat, and looked somewhat pale and thin-— 
 but what brought the circumstance to our minds 
 was that we were told on this occasion one of 
 those thumping matter-of-fact lies which are 
 pretty common to other Frenchmen besides 
 Gascons— viz., That he had offered the First 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 Consul no less a sum than two hundred thousand 
 guineas for the purchase of the St. Peter Martyr. 
 Would that he had! and that Napoleon had 
 taken him at his word! — which we think not 
 unlikely. With two hundred thousand guineas 
 he might have taken some almost impregnable 
 fortress. “Magdeburg,” said Buonaparte, “is 
 worth a hundred queens:” and he would have 
 thought such another stronghold worth at least 
 one Saint. As it is, what an opportunity have 
 we lost of giving the public an account of this 
 picture ! Yet why not describe it, as we see it 
 still “ in our mind’s eye,” standing on the floor 
 of the Tuileries, with none of its brightness 
 impaired, through the long perspective of waning 
 years ? There it stands, and will for ever stand 
 in our imagination, with the dark, scowling, 
 terrific face of the murdered monk looking up 
 to his assassin, the horror-struck features of the 
 flying priest, and the skirts of his vest waving in 
 the wind, the shattered branches of the autumnal 
 trees that feel the coming gale, with that cold 
 convent spire rising in the distance amidst the 
 sapphire hills and golden sky — and overhead 
 are seen the cherubim bringing with rosy fingers 
 the crown of martyrdom; and (such is the feel¬ 
 ing of truth, the soul of faith in the picture) you 
 hear floating near, in dim harmonies, the pealing 
 anthem, and the heavenly choir ! Surely, the 
 St. Peter Martyr surpasses all Titian’s other 
 works, as he himself did all other painters. Had 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 299 
 
 of coot, teal, and wild fowl sport in a crysta 
 stream that winds along the park; and their 
 dark brown coats, seen in the green shadows 
 of the water, have a most picturesque effect. 
 Upon the whole, if we were not much pleased 
 by our excursion to Fonthill, we were very little 
 disappointed; and the place altogether is con¬ 
 sistent and characteristic. 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 315 
 
 be improved to an almost infinite degree, by 
 close attention, by study and practice, and by 
 comparing a succession of objects with one an¬ 
 other, which is the proper and essential province 
 of the artist, independently of abstract rules or 
 science. On further observation we notice many 
 details in a face which escaped us at the first 
 glance; by a study of faces and of mankind 
 practically, we perceive expressions which the 
 generality do not perceive j but this is not done 
 by rule. The fallacy is in supposing that all 
 that the first naked or hasty observation does not 
 give is supplied by science and general theories, 
 and not by a closer and continued observation 
 of the thing itself, so that all that belongs to 
 the latter department is necessarily casual and 
 slight. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman enforces the same argument by 
 quoting the rules laid down by Vitruvius for 
 ascertaining the true principles of form and mo¬ 
 tion. This writer says, that if a man lies on his 
 back, his arms and legs may be so extended 
 that a circle may be drawn round, touching the 
 extremities of his fingers and toes, the centre of 
 which circle shall be his navel: also, a man 
 standing upright, the length of his arms, when 
 fully extended, is equal to his height; thus that 
 the circle and the square equally contain the 
 general form and motion of the human figure. 
 From these hints, and the profound mathema¬ 
 tical train of reasoning with which Lionardo 
 
322 
 
 FLAXMANS LECTURES 
 
 the most elaborate care and exactness; whilst 
 the tasteless and barbarous character of the face 
 and limbs remained much the same as in former 
 times.’ This was the natural course of things, 
 to denote first the gross object, then to run 
 into the opposite extreme, and give none but 
 the detached parts. The difficulty was to unite 
 the two in a noble and comprehensive idea of 
 nature. 
 
 We are chiefly indebted, for the information 
 or amusement we derive from Mr. Flaxman's 
 work, ti the historical details of his subject. 
 We cannot say that he has removed any of the 
 doubts or stumbling-blocks in our way, or ex¬ 
 tended the land-marks of taste or reasoning. 
 We turned with some interest to the Lecture 
 on Beauty; for the artist has left specimens of 
 this quality in several of his works. We were 
 a good deal disappointed. It sets out in this 
 manner: ‘ That beauty is not merely an imaginary 
 quality, but a real essence, may be inferred from 
 the harmony of the universe ; and the perfection 
 of its wondrous parts we may understand from 
 all surrounding nature; and in this course of 
 observation we find that man has more of 
 beauty bestowed on him as he rises higher in 
 creation.’ The rest is of a piece with this 
 exordium, containing a dissertation on the 
 various gradations of being, of which man is 
 said to be at the top,—on the authority of 
 Socrates, who argues f that the human form is 
 
326 
 
 KLAXMAN S LECTURES 
 
 commentators, he probably might have found 
 it to resolve itself (according, at least, to their 
 peculiar and favourite view of it) into a certain 
 symmetry of form, answering, in a great mea¬ 
 sure, to harmony of colouring, or of musical 
 sounds. We do not here affect to lay down a 
 metaphysical theory, but to criticise an historical 
 fact. We are not bold enough to say that 
 beauty in general depends on a regular grada¬ 
 tion and correspondence of lines, but we may 
 safely assert that Grecian beauty does. If we 
 take any beautiful Greek statue, we shall find 
 that, seen in profile, the forehead and nose form 
 nearly a perpendicular straight line; and thatj 
 finely turned at that point, the lower part of the 
 face falls by gentle and almost equal curves to 
 the chin. The cheek is full and round, and the 
 outline of the side of the face a general sloping 
 line. In front, the eye-brows are straight, or 
 greatly curved; the eyelids full and round to 
 match, answering to that of Belplioebe, in 
 Spenser— 
 
 • Upon her eye-brows many graces sat, 
 
 Under the shadow of her even brows 
 
 The space between the eye-brows is broad, 
 and the two sides of the nose straight, and 
 nearly parallel; the nostrils form large and dis¬ 
 tinct curves ; the lips are full and even, the 
 corners being large ; the chin is round and rather 
 short, forming, with the two sides of the face. 
 
323 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 the distinction of sex and age, in action or 
 repose, expressing the affections of the soul. 
 The same words may be used to define the ideal 
 style, but they must be followed by this addition 
 —selected from, such perfect examples as may ex¬ 
 cite in our minds a conception of the preternatural. 
 By these definitions will be understood that the 
 natural style is peculiar to humanity, and the 
 ideal to spirituality and divinity." 
 
 We should be inclined to say that the female 
 divinities of the ancients were Goddesses because 
 they were ideal, rather than that they were ideal 
 because they belonged to the class of Goddesses ; 
 “ By their own beauty they were deified of the 
 difficulty of passing the line that separates the 
 actual from the imaginary world some test may 
 be formed by the suggestion thrown out a little 
 way back ; viz. that the ideal is exemplified in 
 systematizing and enhancing any idea, whether of 
 beauty or deformity, as in the case of the fauns 
 and satyrs of antiquity. The expressing of 
 depravity and grossness is produced here by 
 approximating the human face and figure to 
 that of the brute; so that the mind runs along 
 this line from one to the other, and carries the 
 wished-for resemblance as far as it pleases. But 
 here both the extremes are equally well-known, 
 equally objects of sight and observation; in so 
 much that there might be a literal substitution 
 of the one for the other ; but, in the other case, 
 of elevating character and pourtraying Gods as 
 
NATIONAL GALLERY. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 The Holy Family. 
 
 The Graces .. 
 
 The Market Cart.... 
 
 The Vision of St. Augustine. 
 
 Holy Family.. 
 
 Phineas and his followers turned to \ 
 stone, at the sight of the Gorgon.. J 
 
 Mercury and the Woodman. 
 
 St. Jerome with the Angel .. 
 
 The Entombment of Christ. 
 
 Perseus and Andromeda ............ 
 
 Erminia discovering the Shepherds, 
 
 Portraits of Ferdinand de Medicis, 
 
 and his Wife... ) 
 
 Venus attired by the Graces. 
 
 Antiope sleeping, surprised by Jupiter 
 
 Cupid and Psyche .. 
 
 Sslenus ... 
 
 Pan teaching Bacchus to play. 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 The “ Ecce Homo” .{ 
 
 The Rape of Europa. 
 
 View of Larici. 
 
 The Blind Fiddler. 
 
 The Death of Lord Chatham .. 
 
 The Four Ages of Man. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 A Man’s Head... 
 
 The Banished Lord.. 
 
 Maecenas’ Villa at Tivoli. 
 
 The Watering Place. 
 
 Landscape and Niobe... 
 
 Portrait of Lord Heathfield. 
 
 Portrait of himself. 
 
 The “ Marriage h-la-mode ”. 
 
 A Landscape—Jaques & the Wound-■) 
 
 ed Stag .. J 
 
 Portrait of J. Nollekens, Sculptor .... 
 Cleombrotus ordered into banishment) 
 
 by Leonidas. j 
 
 The Village Festival . 
 
 A Landscape, with Figures by Moon- \ 
 
 iight . J 
 
 Portrait of the Rev. W. Hohvell Carr.. 
 
 Portrait of Isaac Walton. 
 
 Pylades and Orestes . 
 
 A View of Venice... 
 
 Portrait of the Right Hon. William') 
 
 Windham./ 
 
 Portrait of Mr. Angerstein .. 
 
 The Corn Field . 
 
 Painted by 
 
 78. 
 
 79 - 
 
 80. 
 
 81. 
 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 86 . 
 87 - 
 
 89 . 
 
 90 . 
 
 91 . 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96 . 
 
 97 . 
 93 . 
 
 99 . 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 -V 
 
 102 ( 
 103 ( 
 104-J 
 
 105. 
 
 106 . 
 
 107 . 
 
 108. 
 109. 
 no. 
 111 . 
 112 . 
 113 Y 
 to [ 
 118) 
 119. 
 
 120 . 
 
 121 . 
 
 122 . 
 
 123. 
 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126 . 
 12 7 . 
 128. 
 
 129- 
 
 130. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds . 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 Garofalo. 
 
 Mazzolino da Ferrara. 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 Domenichino. 
 Ludovico Caracci. 
 Guido Reni. 
 
 A . Caracci [by some as¬ 
 signed to Domeui- 
 chinoi], 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 Guido Reni. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 Alessandro Veronese. 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 
 L. Caracci, after Cor¬ 
 reggio (No. 15). 
 
 Paul Veronese. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 Wilkie. 
 
 Copley. 
 
 Lancret. 
 
 Sir George Beaumont. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Wilson. 
 Gainsborough. 
 Wilson. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Ho gar tit. 
 
 Sir George Beaumont. 
 Sir W. Beechy. 
 
 West. 
 
 Wilkie. 
 
 Pether. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Housmun. 
 
 West. 
 
 Canaletti. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Sir T. Lawrence. 
 John Constable, 
 a 2 
 
4.PPENDIX II. 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE PICTURES 
 
 IN THE 
 
 DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 No. Title of Picture.. Painted by 
 
 1. Portraits of Mrs. R. B. Sheridan, and ) 
 
 her sister Mrs. Tickell.) 
 
 2. Louis XIV. of France . 
 
 Gainsborough. 
 
 H. Rigaud. 
 
 Opie. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 Cuyp. 
 he Nain. 
 
 Paul Potter. 
 Rogliman. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Roland Roghmun 
 Wynants. 
 
 
 5. Cows, Sheep, and Buildings. 
 
 7. Three Cows, Sheep, and Landscape .. 
 
 8. Landscape—Woman Milking Goats .. 
 
 9. Peasant, Cows, Sheep, and Landscape 
 
 10. Mules, Cows, &c. in Landscape. 
 
 11. Landscape —Cow Drinking . 
 
 13. Landscape, with Men, Horses, and Dogs 
 
 14. Fawn and Nymph Dancing, (oval) .. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Breemherg. 
 
 
 17. Sunset, with Figures. 
 
 18. Winter—Man Walking in the Snow .. 
 
 19. Hawk, Sparrows, and Honeysuckle .. 
 
 Karel du Jardin. 
 Teniers. 
 
 Weeninx. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 Jan Miel . 
 
 P. Potter. 
 
 Sir F. Bourgeois. 
 
 
 
 
 
 25. Man Holding a Horse—a Sketch .... 
 
 
 Vandyke. 
 
 G. M. Crespi. 
 
 F. Casanova. 
 
 Van Huy sum. 
 
 
 
 29. Fruit in China Bowl . 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picmrt 
 
 Painted by 
 
 240. I The Graces, (a Sketch).| Rubens. 
 
 241. .. ' ~ 
 
 242. 
 
 243. 
 
 244. 
 
 245. 
 
 246. 
 
 247. 
 
 248. 
 
 249. 
 
 250. 
 
 251. 
 
 252. 
 
 253. 
 
 254. 
 
 255. 
 
 256. 
 25/. 
 
 258. 
 
 259. 
 
 260 . 
 261 . 
 262. 
 
 263. 
 
 264. 
 260. 
 266. 
 
 267. 
 
 268 . 
 
 269 . 
 
 270. 
 
 271. 
 27*2. 
 
 273. 
 
 274. 
 
 275. 
 
 276. 
 
 277. 
 
 278. 
 
 279 . 
 
 280. 
 281. 
 282. 
 
 283. 
 
 284. 
 
 285. 
 
 286. 
 
 287. 
 
 288. 
 289- 
 290. 
 291- 
 
 292. 
 
 293. 
 
 294. 
 
 295. 
 
 Windmills, and Landscape 
 
 Portrait of Lady Digby .... 
 
 Cows, with Oort in the Distance. 
 
 Landscape, with Jacob and Laban.... 
 Bridge and Windmill 
 
 St. Jerome (a small oval). Guido. 
 
 Jacob Ruysdael. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Cuyp. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Jacob Ruysdael. 
 
 FOURTH ROOM. 
 
 Venus and Cupid.. . 
 
 Spanish Flower Girl .I 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Portrait of a Lady . 
 
 Bacchanalians. 
 
 Massacre of the Innocents. . 
 
 The Angels Appearing to Abraham.... 
 
 The Death of Cardinal Beaufort. 
 
 Madonna and Child. 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 Landscape... 
 
 View of a Palace. 
 
 Jupiter and Europa. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 St. Sebastian. 
 
 The Good Shepherd . 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Two Saints .. 
 
 The Holy Family, in a Landscape .... 
 
 St. Jerome. 
 
 St. Catharine, of Alexandria. 
 
 The Destruction of Niobe’s Children { 
 
 Port of Ostia—St. Paula Embarking .. 
 Soldiers Gaming 
 Jacob as Esau, blessed by Isaac 
 
 Landscape . 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Sea Port 
 Landscape 
 Salvator Mundi 
 View near the Hague 
 Landscape 
 Lucretia 
 
 Venus and Cupid. 
 
 Portrait of Wouvermans 
 Spanish Peasant Boys 
 
 Pluto Carrying off Proserpine. 
 
 The Infant Samuel. 
 
 Two Spanish Peasant Boys. 
 
 jMadonna and Child ... 
 
 | Christ Bearing his Cross . . 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine of Sienna .. 
 
 Landscape... 
 
 Adoration of the Magi . 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 St. Francis . 
 
 Jacob and Rachel Meeting . 
 
 Inspiration of a Poet. 
 
 Giovanni Paggi. 
 Murillo. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Z uccarelli. 
 
 Le Brun. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 Herman Swanevelt. 
 Caspar Poussin. 
 Claude. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 
 F. Mola. 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Lodovico Caracci* 
 
 F. Mola. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Figures by Nicolo, rest 
 by Gaspar Poussin. 
 Claude. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Herman Swanevelt. 
 Annibal Caracci. 
 Claude. 
 
 Gaspar Poussin. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 
 Jacob Ruysdael. 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 Guido. 
 
 [After] Correggio . 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Murillo . 
 
 F. Mola. 
 
 Reynolds . 
 
 Murillo. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 
 C. Dolce. 
 
 Paul Veronese. 
 Zuccarelli. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 
 Lodovico Caracci. 
 Murillo. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 sxi 
 
 No 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 394. 
 
 395. 
 
 396. 
 
 397. 
 
 398. 
 
 399- 
 
 400. 
 
 
 
 
 Wynants. 
 
 
 
 Dietricy . 
 
 Poelemherg. 
 Schoonefeld. 
 
 A Scene from a Play, supposed to be 1 
 
 Charles I. acting.../ 
 
 Hungarians at the Tomb of Ovid .... 
 
 401. 
 
 
 
 402. 
 
 
 
 403. 
 
 
 
 404. 
 
 
 
 405. 
 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 406. 
 
 
 407. 
 
 408. 
 
 
 
 
 
 409. 
 
 410. 
 
 
 
 
 E. Hemskerck . 
 
 411. 
 
 
 412. 
 
 413. 
 
 A Penitent received into the Church .. 
 
 Barroccio. 
 
 414. 
 
 
 
 415. 
 
 4)6. 
 
 Flower Piece . 
 
 M. Van Osterwyck. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 Bourgognone. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 417. 
 
 418. 
 
 
 
 419- 
 
 420. 
 
 Landscape with a Rainbow. 
 
 
 421. 
 
 
 
 422. 
 
 
 
 423. 
 
 
 D. Seghers. 
 
 Poelemberg. 
 
 424. 
 
 
 425. 
 
 
 426. 
 
 
 Snyders. 
 
 D. Seghers. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 427- 
 
 428. 
 
 
 
 429. 
 
 430. 
 
 
 Wouvermans . 
 
 
 Teniers. 
 
 431. 
 
 
 Peter Neefs. 
 Bourgognone. 
 
 Berg hem. 
 
 Van Osterwyck. 
 Murillo. 
 
 432. 
 
 
 433. 
 
 
 434. 
 
 
 435. 
 
 
 436. 
 
 
 L. Bassano . 
 
 437) 
 to f 
 448-* 
 
 Cybele, Pan, Mercury, Juno, Diana, 1 
 Bacchus, Daphne, Apollo, Venus, > 
 Mars, Syrinx, Endymion . J 
 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 
 THE QUEEN’S BED ROOM. 
 
 
 449. 
 
 450. 
 
 The ceiling, painted by Sir James 
 Thornhill , represents Aurora rising 
 out of the Sea. 
 
 Van Somer. 
 
 
 451. 
 
 452. 
 
 Christian, Duke of Brunswick-Lunen- "1 
 berg.....j 
 
 Honthorst. 
 
 453. 
 
 Princess of Brunswick.. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
XXIV 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 549. 
 
 550. 
 
 551. 
 
 552. 
 
 553. 
 
 554. 
 
 555. 
 
 556. 
 
 557. 
 
 558. 
 
 559. 
 
 560. 
 
 561. 
 
 562. 
 
 563. 
 
 564. 
 
 565. 
 
 566. 
 
 567. 
 
 568. 
 
 569. 
 
 570. 
 
 571. 
 
 572. 
 
 573. 
 
 574. 
 
 575. 
 5/6. 
 
 577. 
 
 578. 
 
 579 . 
 
 580. 
 
 581. 
 
 582. 
 
 583. 
 
 584. 
 
 585. 
 
 586. 
 587- 
 588. 
 589- 
 
 590. 
 
 591. 
 
 592. 
 
 593. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 A Lady with an Orrery and Dog. 
 
 A Concert. 
 
 The Wise Men’s Offering. 
 
 The destruction of the Children of "t 
 
 Niobe. j 
 
 The Flight into Egypt . 
 
 Frederick the Great . 
 
 Ganymede. 
 
 St. John with a lamb. 
 
 Nymphs. 
 
 Christ in the house of Mary and ^ 
 
 Martha .J 
 
 The Good Samaritan. 
 
 Judas betraying Christ. 
 
 Buildings in a Landscape. 
 
 St. Jerome . 
 
 Christ blessing Little Children.... 
 
 Jacob’s Journey . 
 
 Faith . 
 
 Madame Chastillon. 
 
 Nymphs . .. 
 
 Boaz and Ruth ... 
 
 Mars and Venus. 
 
 The Marriage of Joseph and Mary.... 
 The Assumption of the Virgin.. .. 
 Nymphs and Satyrs (a drawing).. 
 
 A Barrack-room. 
 
 A Drawing ... 
 
 Adam and Eve.... 
 
 Venus and Cupid .. 
 
 Over the fire-place, Louis XIII. of} 
 
 France .. . J 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman .. 
 
 Ceres in Search of her daughter, 
 Proserpine “ A Boy transformed to ! 
 
 an Eft ”. 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman .. 
 
 Louis XIV. of France, on Horseback.. 
 Portrait of a Foreign Prince, with ”1 
 
 the Order of the Garter.J 
 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.... 
 
 Portrait of Himself. 
 
 Lord Falkland . 
 
 Don Guzman ... 
 
 The Queen of James I. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 TOE PRINCE OF WALES’S DRAWING 
 ROOM. 
 
 Count Mansfeldt. 
 
 George II. . 
 
 Cupid Asleep (a drawing) .{ 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery-{ 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Giovanni Bellini . 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Rothenhamer . 
 
 Teniers, after Bassano . 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Michael Angelo. 
 Spagno/etto. 
 
 G. Chiari. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Giacomo Bassano. 
 Pordenone. 
 
 John Brueghel. 
 
 [After] Albert Durer. 
 Huens. 
 
 Giacomo Bassano. 
 Guercino. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 G. Chiari. 
 
 Giacomo Bassano. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 Mazzuoli. 
 
 Giacomo Bassano. 
 Isaac Oliver. 
 
 C. Troost. 
 
 Isaac Oliver. 
 
 Jan de Mabuse. 
 
 Young Palma. 
 
 Belcamp. 
 
 P. Perugino . 
 Elsheimer. 
 
 Sir A More. 
 
 Vunder Meulen. 
 
 Mirevelt. 
 
 Janssen. 
 
 Robert Walker. 
 
 [After] Janssen. 
 
 My tens. 
 
 Van Sumer. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Mytens. 
 
 [After] Pine. 
 Bartolozzi, after 
 Guido. 
 
 Hussey , after A. 
 Caracci. 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE; 
 
 XXXV 
 
 No. 
 
 Title of Picture 
 
 21. I 
 
 
 22. | 
 
 Portrait of a Gentleman (unknown) .. 
 
 1 
 
 aUEEN’S DRAWING ROOM. 
 
 23. 
 
 Portrait of Henry, Duke of Gloucester, ^ 
 
 
 Youngest son of Charles I.J 
 
 24. 
 
 William, third Earl of Pembroke .... 
 
 25. 
 
 Jacob Watering his Flock. 
 
 26. 
 
 Meeting of Isaac and Rebecca. 
 
 27* 
 
 Finding of Moses. 
 
 28) 
 
 
 to > 
 
 Landscapes with Figures. 
 
 33 J 
 
 
 
 aUEEN’s CLOSET. 
 
 34. 
 
 View of an Italian Sea Port. 
 
 35. 
 
 Henry VIII. c .... 
 
 36. 
 
 
 37. 
 
 Falconer feeding a Hawk.„. 
 
 38. 
 
 Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk.... 
 
 39. 
 
 James, first Duke of Hamilton. 
 
 40. 
 
 King Edward VI.. 
 
 41. 
 
 
 42. 
 
 Head of a Young man in a Turban .. 
 
 43. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 44. 
 
 Italian Sea Port. 
 
 45. 
 
 Interior of a Picture Gallery. 
 
 46. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 47- 
 
 Rocky Landscape .. 
 
 48. 
 
 Interior of a Laboratory. 
 
 49. 
 
 An Italian Sea Port . 
 
 50. 
 
 A Nativity... 
 
 
 A Head. 
 
 52. 
 
 John Malderus, Bishop of Antwerp .. 
 
 53. 
 
 Portrait of a Man. 
 
 54. 
 
 Titian and the Chancellor Franceschini 
 
 55. 
 
 An Infant Christ.... 
 
 56. 
 
 St. John in the Wilderness. 
 
 57. 
 
 Erasmus — Copied by George Penz 1 
 
 
 of Nuremberg ..J 
 
 58. 
 
 An Italian Sea Port . 
 
 
 THE king’s CLOSET. 
 
 59- 
 
 Emperor Charles V...... 
 
 60. 
 
 
 61. 
 
 Portrait of his Wife . 
 
 62. 
 
 Portrait of Himself.. 
 
 63. 
 
 A Flemish F6te . 
 
 64. 
 
 St, Catherine of Alexandria. 
 
 65. 
 
 
 66. 
 
 Interior of a Picture Galiery... 
 
 67- 
 
 The Money Changers.. 
 
 68. 
 
 Head of St. Sebastian. 
 
 69. 
 
 A Man with a Sword. 
 
 70. 
 
 The Garden of Eden. 
 
 71- 
 
 Small Head of Christ... 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Vandyck . 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Paul Van Somer. 
 Zuccarelli. 
 
 Carlo Varis . 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Holbein. 
 
 Gerard Honthorst . 
 Holbein (?) 
 
 Fans. 
 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Varis. 
 
 Old Teniers. 
 
 Sebastian del Piumbo • 
 Teniers. 
 
 Old Teniers. 
 
 Varis. 
 
 Baroccio. 
 
 Gerard Douu> (?) 
 Rubens. 
 
 Giacomo Bassano. 
 Titian. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 [Aftei~\ Holbein. 
 Varis. 
 
 Sir Antonio More. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Van Cleve. 
 
 Van Brueghel. 
 Guido. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Erasmits Quellinus. 
 Quintin Matsys. 
 Guido. 
 
 Spagnoletto. 
 
 Jan Brueghel. 
 
 Carlo Dolce . 
 
 c 2 
 
Ixivi 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Earl of Gainsborough. 
 
 Thomas Hobbes.... 
 
 Dr. Haschard, Dean of Windsor . 
 
 Print of the “ Field of the Cloth of Gold 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Riley. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 NEW LIBRARY. 
 
 
 Elizabeth,Marchioness Dowager of Exeter .. 
 
 David Garrick..... 
 
 Portrait of Herself......... 
 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Ang. Kauffman. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. vii 
 
 In reference to the additions made in 
 the body of the work, I have to repeat, 
 with a sentiment of warm gratitude, that 
 I have been enabled to include the Treatise 
 on the Fine Arts among my Father’s other 
 writings, by the liberality of the proprietors 
 of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, in the 
 appendix to which unrivalled work that 
 treatise originally appeared. The article 
 on Flaxman is taken from the Edinburgh 
 Review ; and the Essays on the Elgin 
 Marbles and on Fonthill Abbey from the 
 London Magazine for 1822—3. 
 
 The Second Series of this work com¬ 
 prehends the remainder of my Father’s 
 Criticisms upon Art and Artists. 
 
 W. HAZLITT. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 panion, 37. Child Sleeping, ib, 
 Jacob and Laban, 99- 
 
 Northcote. A Man with a Hawk, 
 100. Portrait of, 112. 
 
 Ostade . Boors Merry-making, 38. 
 
 Palma. A Doge of Venice, 56. 
 
 Parmegiano. A Head, 69. Por¬ 
 trait of a Young Man, 70. St. 
 Catharine, 93. 
 
 Poelemberg. Nymph and Satyr, 
 25. Another, 76. 
 
 Paul Veronese. A Cardinal bless¬ 
 ing a Person, 39- Joseph and 
 Potiphar’s wife, 57. Child and 
 Dog, 111. 
 
 Pordenone. Woman taken in 
 Adultery, 57. 
 
 Poussin , N. Dance of Baccha¬ 
 nals, 15. Education of Bacchus, 
 33. Nursing of Jupiter, ib. 
 Apollo with a Poet, ib. Flight in¬ 
 to Egypt, ib. Landscapes, 34, 47. 
 The Sacraments, 53. Adoration 
 of the Angels, 92. Israelites 
 gathering Manna, ib. 
 
 Poussin, G. Landscapes, 16, 56, 93. 
 
 Raphael. Meeting of Christ and 
 St. John, 47- Virgin, Child, 
 
 and St. John, ib. A Head, 69. 
 The Cartoons, 76 et scq. Re¬ 
 pose in Egypt, 93. St. Luke 
 painting ihe Virgin, ib. Heads 
 from the Cartoons, 125, 132. 
 
 Rembrandt. Head of an Old Man, 
 24. Jacob’s Dream, 28. Girl 
 at a Window, 29. Man with a 
 Hawk, 89. Portrait of a Fe¬ 
 male, 90. Salutation of Eliza¬ 
 beth, ib. The Rembrandts at 
 Burleigh, 122. 
 
 Reynolds. Death of Cardinal 
 Beaufort, 31. Prophet Samuel, 
 33. Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic 
 Muse, 38, 100. Portrait of Sir 
 R. C. Hoare, 112. 
 
 Ribera , S. Adam and Eve, 132. 
 
 Rubens. Rape of the Sabines, 16. 
 Portrait of Himself and his three 
 Wives, ib. Samson and Delilah, 
 27. St Barbara, 28. Landscape, 
 ib. Battle of Nordlingen, 70. 
 Conversion of St. Paul, 93. 
 Four Ecclesiastical Subjects, 94. 
 Ixion and the False Juno, 95. 
 Silenus, 134. Rape of Proser¬ 
 pine, ib. Flight into Egypt, 
 136. “ Suffer little Children to 
 
 come unto me,” ib. 
 
 Ruysdael. Waterfall, 29. Land¬ 
 scape, 57. 
 
 Sacchi. Port, of a Lady, 26. St. 
 Bruno, 98. 
 
 Suenredam. A Cathedral, 26. 
 Sale. Rosa. Landscapes, 34, 3Q. 
 Seb. del Piombo. Raising of La¬ 
 zarus, 8. Port, of a Lady, 76. 
 Snyders. A Boar Hunt, 99. 
 Teniers. A. Fair, 57. Boor’s 
 Merry Making, 57, 93. 
 Tintoretto. A Portrait, 55. The 
 Nine Muses, 74. 
 
 Titian. Music piece, 10. Gany¬ 
 mede, 11. Venus and Adonis, 
 ib. 36 Sleeping Nymph, 36. 
 Four Ages, 48. Diana and Ca- 
 listo, 50. Diana and Actaeon, 
 ib. Venus Rising from the Sea, 
 
 53. Portraits of Clement VII., 
 
 54. Of himself and a Senator, 68. 
 Of a Man in Black, 75, Woman 
 taken in Adultery, 98. Jupiter 
 and Antiope, ib. Young Man’s 
 Head, 108. Music Piece at Ox¬ 
 ford, 131. The Loves of the 
 Gods, 138. 
 
 Vandervelde. A Calm, 26. 
 anderwerf. Judgment of Paris, 
 38. 
 
 Vayidyck. Portrait of Gevartius, 
 12. Charity, 27. Madonna and 
 infant Christ, ib. Portraits of 
 the Earl of Arundel, 54. Of the 
 Duchess of Richmond, 63. Of 
 Lady Carlisle, ib. Of Lady Dig- 
 by, ib Of Killigrew and Carew, 
 
 65. Of Charles I. and Heprietta, 
 
 66. Of Charles I. and his chil¬ 
 dren, ib. Of the Pembroke 
 Family, 104. At Petworth, 113. 
 Of the Buckingham Family ; of 
 Charles I. 137* 
 
 Vangoyen , 58. 
 
 Velasquez. Prince of the Asturias, 
 31. Philip IV. of Spain, 34. 
 Vinci, L. da. Portrait of a Man, 
 38. Female Head, 57. A Head, 
 69- 
 
 Watteau. F£te Champetre, and 
 Bal Champetre, 30. 
 
 West. Death of Wolfe, 100. 
 Wilkie. Ale-house door, 7* Break¬ 
 fast Table, 58. 
 
 Wilson. Villa of Msecenas, 36. 
 
 Landscape, 112. 
 
 Wouvermans. Landscape, 27. 
 
 Z uccarelli. Landscapes, 52. 
 
THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 39 
 
 his subjects naked figures of women, and tan¬ 
 talises us by making them of coloured ivory. 
 They are like hard-ware toys.—No. 333, a Car¬ 
 dinal blessing a Person, by P. Veronese, is dignified 
 and picturesque in the highest degree. — No. 
 349, The Adoration of the Shepherds, by Annibal 
 Caracci, is an elaborate, but not very successful 
 performance.—No. 329, Christ bearing his Cross, 
 by Morales, concludes the list, and is worthy to 
 conclude it. 
 
46 
 
 THE MARQUIS OF 
 
 enclosed in a portfolio, flat, dry, hard, and pith¬ 
 less, do to flourishing plants and shrubs. Their 
 historical figures are painful outlines, or gradua¬ 
 ted elevations of the common statues, spiritless, 
 colourless, motionless, which have the form, but 
 none of the power of the antique. What an abor¬ 
 tive attempt is the Coronation of Napoleon, by the 
 celebrated David, lately exhibited in this country ! 
 It looks like a finished sign-post painting—a sea 
 of frozen outlines.—Could the artist make nothing 
 of “ the foremost man in all this world,” but a 
 stiff, upright figure ? The figure and attitude of 
 the Empress are, however, pretty and graceful; 
 and we recollect one face in profile, of an ec¬ 
 clesiastic, to the right, with a sanguine look of 
 health in the complexion, and a large benevo¬ 
 lence of soul. It is not Monsieur Talleyrand, 
 whom the late Lord Castlereagh characterised as 
 a worthy man and his friend. His lordship was 
 not a physiognomist! The whole of the shadow¬ 
 ed part of the picture seems to be enveloped in 
 a shower of blue powder.—But to make amends 
 for all that there is or that there is not in the 
 work, David has introduced his wife and his two 
 daughters; and in the Catalogue has given us 
 the places of abode, and the names of the hus¬ 
 bands of the latter. This is a little out of place, 
 yet these are the people who laugh at our blun¬ 
 ders. We do not mean to extend the above 
 sweeping censure to Claude, or Poussin: of 
 course they are excepted : but even in them the 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 61 
 
 if he did. The tall slim deer glance startled by, 
 in some neglected track of memory, and fairies 
 trip it in the unconscious haunts of the imagi¬ 
 nation ! Pope’s lines on Windsor Forest also 
 suggest themselves to the mind in the same 
 way, and make the air about it delicate. Gray 
 has consecrated the same spot by his Ode on 
 a Distant Prospect of Eton College; and the finest 
 passage in Burke’s writings is his comparison 
 of the British Monarchy to “the proud Keep 
 of Windsor.” The walls and massy towers of 
 Windsor Castle are indeed built of solid stone, 
 weather-beaten, time-proof; but the image 
 answering to them in the mind’s eye is woven of 
 pure thought and the airy films of the imagina¬ 
 tion—Arachne’s web not finer ! 
 
 The rooms are chill and comfortless at this 
 time of the year,* and gilded ceilings look, down 
 on smoky fire-places. The view from the win¬ 
 dows, too, which is so rich and glowing in the 
 summer-time, is desolate and deformed with the 
 rains overflowing the marshy grounds. As to 
 physical comfort, one seems to have no more of 
 it in these tapestried halls and on marble floors, 
 than the poor bird driven before the pelting 
 storm, or the ploughboy seeking shelter from 
 the drizzling sky, in his sheepskin jacket and 
 clouted shoes, beneath the dripping, leafless 
 spray. The palace does not (more than the 
 
 The present criticism was written in February, 1823. 
 
THE GROSYENOR 
 
 COLLECTION OF PICTURES. 
 
 ■-- 
 
 W e seldom quit a mansion like that of which 
 we hare here to give some account, and return 
 homewards, but we think of Warton’s Sonnet 
 written after seeing Wilton-house. 
 
 From Pembroke’s princely dome, where mimic art 
 Decks with a magic hand the dazzling bowers, 
 
 Its living hues where the warm pencil pours, 
 
 And breathing forms from the rude marble start, 
 
 How to life’s humbler scenes can I depart ? 
 
 My breast all glowing from those gorgeous tow’rs. 
 
 In my low cell how cheat the sullen hours ? 
 
 Vain the complaint! For Fancy can impart 
 (To Fate superior, and to Fortune’s doom) 
 
 Whate’er adorns the stately-storied hall: 
 
 She, ’mid the dungeon’s solitary gloom, 
 
 Can dress the Graces in their Attic pall, 
 
 Bid the green landscape’s vernal beauty bloom, 
 
 And in bright trophies clothe the twilight wall. 
 
 Having repeated these lines to ourselves, we 
 sit quietly down in our chairs to con over our 
 
10O the grosvenor pictures. 
 
 There is Hogarth’s Distressed Poet —the Death 
 of Wolfe , by West, which is not so good as the 
 print would lead us to expect—an excellent 
 whole-length portrait of a youth, by Gainsbo¬ 
 rough— A Man with a Hawk, by Northcote, and 
 Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, by Sir Joshua. 
 This portrait Lord Grosvenor bought the other 
 day for £1/60. It has risen in price every time 
 it has been sold. Sir Joshua sold it for two or 
 three hundred pounds to a Mr. Calonne. It was 
 then purchased by Mr. Desenfans, who parted 
 with it to Mr. William Smith for a larger sum 
 (we believe L‘500) ■, and, at the sale of that 
 gentleman’s pictures, it was bought by Mr. 
 Watson Taylor, the last proprietor, for a thou¬ 
 sand guineas. 
 
 While it was in the possession of Mr. 
 Desenfans, a copy of it was taken by a pupil 
 of Sir Joshua’s, of the name of Score, which 
 is now in the Dulwich Gallery, and which we 
 always took for an original. The size of the 
 original is larger than the copy. There was a 
 dead child painted at the bottom of it, which Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds afterwards disliked, and he 
 had the canvas doubled upon the frame to hide 
 it. It has been let out again, but we did not 
 observe whether the child was there. We think 
 it had better not be seen. 
 
 We do not wish to draw invidious com¬ 
 parisons ; yet we may say, in reference to the 
 pictures in Lord Grosvenor’s Collection, and 
 
120 PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 When Mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn, 
 Filch’d from the careless Amalthea’s horn : 
 
 And how the woods berries and worms provide 
 Without their pains, when earth has nought beside 
 To answer their small wants. 
 
 To view the graceful deer come tripping by, 
 
 Then stop and gaze, then turn they know not why, 
 Like bashful younkers in society. 
 
 To mark the structure of a plant or tree, 
 
 And all fair things of earth, how fair they be.” 
 
 I have wandered far enough from Burleigh 
 House ■, but I had some associations abbut it 
 which I could not well get rid of, without 
 troubling the reader with them. 
 
 The Rembrandts disappointed me quite. I 
 could hardly find a trace of the impression which 
 had been inlaid in my imagination. I might 
 as well 
 
 “ Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.” 
 
 Instead of broken wrinkles and indented flesh, 
 I saw hard lines and stained canvas. I had 
 seen better Rembrandts since, and had learned 
 to see nature better. Was it a disadvantage, 
 then, that for twenty years 1 had carried this fine 
 idea in my brain, enriching it from time to time 
 from my observations of nature or art, and raising 
 it as they were raised; or did it much signify 
 that it was disturbed at last? Neither. The 
 picture was nothing to me : it wa9 the idea it had 
 suggested. The one hung on the wall at Burleigh; 
 the other was an heir-loom in my mind. Was 
 it destroyed, because the picture, after long 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 123 
 
 affecting tribute to the memory of this great 
 artist is the character drawn of him by an 
 eminent master, in his Dream of a Painter. 
 
 “ On a sudden I was surrounded by a thick cloud or 
 mist, and my guide wafted me through the air, till we 
 alighted on a most delicious rural spot. I perceived it 
 was the early hour of the morn, when the sun had not risen 
 above the horizon. We were alone, except that at a little 
 distance a young shepherd played on his flageolet as he 
 walked before his herd, conducting them from the fold to 
 the pasture. The elevated pastoral air he played charmed 
 me by its simplicity, and seemed to animate his obedient 
 flock. The atmosphere was clear and perfectly calm : and 
 now the rising sun gradually illumined the fine landscape, 
 and began to discover to our view the distant country of 
 immense extent. I stood awhile in expectation of what 
 might next present itself of dazzling splendor, when the 
 only object which appeared to fill this natural, grand, and 
 simple scene, was a rustic who entered, not far from the 
 place where we stood, who by his habiliments seemed 
 nothing better than a peasant; he led a poor little ass, 
 which was loaded with all the implements required by a 
 painter in his work. After advancing a few paces he stood 
 still, and with an air of rapture seemed to contemplate the 
 rising sun: he next fell on his knees, directed his eyes 
 towards heaven, crossed himself, and then went on with 
 eager looks, as if to make choice of the most advantageous 
 spot from which to make his studies as a painter. ‘ This,’ 
 said my conductor, ‘ is that Claude Gelee of Lorraine, 
 who, nobly disdaining the low employment to which he 
 was originally bred, left it with all its advantages of com¬ 
 petence and ease to embrace his present state of poverty, 
 in order to adorn the world with works of most accom¬ 
 plished excellence.’ ” 
 
 There is a little Paul Brill at Burleigh, in the 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 - ^ - 
 
 The term Fine Arts may be viewed as embracing 
 all those arts in which the powers of imitation 
 or invention are exerted, chiefly with a view to 
 the production of pleasure by the immediate 
 impression which they make on the mind. But 
 the phrase has of late been restricted to a nar¬ 
 rower and more technical signification, namely, 
 to painting, sculpture, engraving, and architec¬ 
 ture, which appeal to the eye as the medium of 
 pleasure ■, and, by way of eminence, to the two 
 first of these arts. In the following observations, 
 I shall adopt this limited sense of the term ; and 
 shall endeavour to develope the principles upon 
 which the great masters have proceeded, and 
 also to enquire in a more particular manner into 
 the state and probable advancement of these 
 arts in this country. The great works of art at 
 present extant, and which may be regarded as 
 models of perfection in their several kinds, are 
 the Greek statues-—the pictures of the celebrated 
 
160 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 In a word, these invaluable remains of antiquity 
 are precisely like casts taken from life. The 
 ideal is not the preference of that which exists 
 only in the mind to that which exists in nature ; 
 but the preference of that which is fine in nature 
 to that which is less so. There is nothing fine 
 in art but what is taken almost immediately, 
 and, as it were, in the mass, from what is finer 
 in nature. Where there have been the finest 
 models in nature, there have been the finest 
 works of art. 
 
 As the Greek statues were copied from Greek 
 forms, so Raphael’s expressions were taken from 
 Italian faces, and I have heard it remarked that 
 the women in the streets of Rome seem to have 
 walked out of his pictures in the Vatican. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds constantly refers to Ra¬ 
 phael as the highest example in modern times 
 (at least with one exception) of the grand or 
 ideal style 5 and yet he makes the essence of that 
 style to consist in the embodying of an abstract 
 or general idea, formed in the mind of the ar¬ 
 tist by rejecting the peculiarities of individuals, 
 and retaining only what is common to the species. 
 Nothing can be more inconsistent than the style 
 of Raphael with this definition. In his Cartoons, 
 and in his groups in the Vatican, there is hardly 
 a face or figure which is any thing more than 
 fine individual nature finely disposed and copied. 
 The late Mr. Barry, who could not be suspected 
 of prejudice on this side of the question, speaks 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 163 
 
 fected by pressure or action, and the general 
 sway of the body, are preserved with the most 
 consummate mastery. I should prefer this statue, 
 as a model for forming the style of the student, 
 to the Apollo, which strikes me as having some¬ 
 thing of a theatrical appearance; or to the Her¬ 
 cules, in which there is an ostentatious and over¬ 
 laden display of anatomy. This last figure, in¬ 
 deed, is so overloaded with sinews, that it has 
 been suggested as a doubt, whether, if life could 
 be put into it, it would be able to move. Gran¬ 
 deur of conception, truth of nature, and purity 
 of taste, seem to have been at their height 
 when the masterpieces which adorned the Temple 
 of Minerva at Athens, of which we have only 
 these imperfect fragments, were produced. Com¬ 
 pared with these, the later Greek statues display 
 a more elaborate workmanship, more of the arti¬ 
 fices of style. The several parts are more uni¬ 
 formly balanced, made more to tally like modern 
 periods ; each muscle is more equally brought 
 out, and more highly finished as a part, but not 
 with the*same subordination of each part to the 
 whole. If some of these wonderful productions 
 have a fault, it is the want of that entire and 
 naked simplicity which pervades the whole of 
 the Elgin Marbles. 
 
 Having spoken here of the Greek statues, and of 
 the works of Raphael and Michael Angelo, as far 
 as relates to the imitation of nature, I shall attempt 
 to point out, to the best of my ability, and as 
 
184 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 add the delicacies of execution and colouring in 
 the highest degree to those of character and 
 composition ; as is evident in his series of pic¬ 
 tures, all equally well painted, of the Marriage 
 d-la-Mode. 
 
 I shall next speak of Wilson, whose landscapes 
 may be divided into three classes,—his Italian 
 landscapes, or imitations of the manner of Claude, 
 —his copies of English scenery,—and his his¬ 
 torical compositions. The first of these are, in 
 my opinion, by much the best; and I appeal, in 
 support of this opinion, to the Apollo and the 
 Seasons, and to the Phaeton. The figures are of 
 course out of the question (these being as un¬ 
 couth and slovenly as Claude’s are insipid and 
 finical); but the landscape in both pictures is 
 delightful. In looking at them we breathe the 
 air which the scene inspires, and feel the genius 
 of the place present to us. In the first, there is 
 the cool freshness of a misty spring morning; 
 the sky, the water, the dim horizon, all convey 
 the same feeling. The fine gray tone and vary¬ 
 ing outline of the hills ; the graceful form of the 
 retiring lake, broken still more by the hazy 
 shadows of the objects that repose on its bosom; 
 the light trees that expand their branches in the 
 air, and the dark stone figure and mouldering 
 temple, that contrast strongly with the broad clear 
 light of the rising day,—give a charm, a truth, 
 a force, and harmony to this composition, which 
 produce the greater pleasure the longer it is dwelt 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 243 
 
 remove. The utter absence of all setness of 
 appearance proves that they were done as studies 
 from actual models. The separate parts of the 
 human body may be given from scientific know¬ 
 ledge :—their modifications or inflections can 
 only be learnt by seeing them in action; and 
 the truth of nature is incompatible with ideal 
 form, if the latter is meant to exclude actually 
 existing form. The mutual action of the parts 
 cannot be determined where the object itself 
 is not seen. That the forms of these statues 
 are not common nature, such as we see it every 
 day, we readily allow: that they were not select 
 Greek nature, we see no convincing reason to 
 suppose. That truth of nature, and ideal or 
 fine form, are not always or generally united, we 
 know ■, but how they can ever be united in art, 
 without being first united in nature, is to us 
 a mystery, and one that we as little believe as 
 understand ! 
 
 Suppose, for illustration’s sake, that these 
 Marbles were originally done as casts from 
 actual nature, and then let us enquire whether 
 they would not have possessed all the same 
 qualities that they now display, granting only 
 that the forms were in the first instance selected 
 with the eye of taste, and disposed with know¬ 
 ledge of the art and of the subject. 
 
 First, the larger masses and proportions of 
 entire limbs and divisions of the body would 
 have been found in the casts, for they would 
 
 r 2 
 
FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 The old sarcasm —Omne ignotum pro magnifico 
 est —cannot be justly applied here. Fonthill 
 Abbey, after being enveloped in impenetrable 
 mystery for a length of years, has been unex¬ 
 pectedly thrown open to the vulgar gaze, and 
 has lost none of its reputation for magnificence 
 —though, perhaps, its visionary glory, its classic 
 renown, have vanished from the public mind for 
 ever. It is, in a word, a desert of magnificence, 
 a glittering waste of laborious idleness, a cathe¬ 
 dral turned into a toy-shop, an immense Museum 
 of all that is most curious and costly, and, at the 
 same time, most worthless, in the productions 
 of art and nature. Ships of pearl and seas of 
 amber are scarce a fable here—a nautilus’s shell 
 surmounted with a gilt triumph of Neptune— 
 tables of agate, cabinets of ebony, and precious 
 stones, painted windows “ shedding a gaudy, 
 crimson light,” satin borders, marble floors, and 
 lamps of solid gold—Chinese pagodas and Per- 
 
ON 
 
 FLAIMAN'S LECTURES 
 ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 -—- 
 
 These lectures were delivered at the Royal 
 Academy in an annual course, instituted expressly 
 for that purpose. They are not, on the whole,, 
 ill calculated to promote the object for which 
 they were originally designed, to guide the taste, 
 and stimulate the enquiries of the student ; but 
 we should doubt whether there is much in them 
 to interest the public. They may be charac¬ 
 terized as the work of a sculptor by profession— 
 dry and hard, a meagre outline, without colour¬ 
 ing or adventitious ornament. The Editor states 
 that he has left them scrupulously as he found 
 them: there are, in consequence, some faults 
 of grammatical construction, of trifling import; 
 and many of the paragraphs are thrown into 
 the form of notes, of' loose memorandums, and 
 read like a table of contents. Nevertheless, 
 there is a great and evident knowledge of the 
 questions treated of; and wherever there is 
 knowledge there is power, and a certain degree 
 of interest. It is only a pen guided by inanity 
 or affectation that can strip such subjects of 
 
302 
 
 flaxman’s lectures 
 
 warped, insufficient, or contradictory. His argu¬ 
 ments are neither solid nor ingenious : they are 
 merely quaint and gratuitous. If we were to 
 hazard a general opinion, we should be disposed 
 to say that a certain setness and formality, a 
 certain want of flexibility and power, ran through 
 the character of his whole mind. His com¬ 
 positions as a sculptor are classical,—cast in an 
 approved mould ; but, generally speaking, they 
 are elegant outlines,—poetical abstractions con¬ 
 verted into marble, yet still retaining the essen¬ 
 tial character of words; and the professor’s 
 opinions and views of art, as here collected, ex¬ 
 hibit barely the surface and crust of commonly 
 received maxims, with little depth or originality. 
 The characteristics of his mind were precision, 
 elegance, cool judgment, industry, and a laudable 
 and exclusive attachment to the best. He wanted 
 richness, variety, and force. 
 
 The first lecture, on the history of early British 
 Sculpture, will be found to contain some novel 
 and curious information. At its very commence¬ 
 ment, however, we find two instances of perverse 
 or obscure reasoning, which we cannot entirely 
 pass over. In allusion to the original institution 
 and objects of the Royal Academy, the author 
 observes that, “ as the study of sculpture was at 
 that time confined within narrow limits, so the 
 appointment of a professorship in that art was 
 not required, until the increasing taste of the 
 country had given great popularity to the art 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 311 
 
 the surface of the human body and inferior animals. 
 “ In this enlightened age, when the circle of 
 science is so generally and well understood,-— 
 when the connection and relation of one branch 
 with another is demonstrated, and their prin¬ 
 ciples applied from necessity and conviction, 
 wherever possibility allows, in the liberal and 
 mechanical arts, as well as all the other concerns 
 of life,—no one can be weak or absurd enough 
 to suppose it is within the ability and province 
 of human genius, without the principles of 
 science previously acquired,-— by slight observa¬ 
 tion only, —to become possessed of the forms, 
 characters, and essences of objects, in such a 
 manner as to represent them with truth, force, 
 and pathos at once! No; we are convinced, 
 by reason and experience, that ‘ life is short, 
 and art is long;’ and the perfection of all 
 human productions depends on the indefatigable 
 accumulation of knowledge and labour through 
 a succession of ages.” 
 
 This paragraph, we cannot but think, pro¬ 
 ceeds altogether on a false estimate: it is a 
 misdirection to the student. In following up 
 the principles here laid down, the artist’s life 
 would not only be short, but misspent. Is there 
 no medium, in our critic’s view of this matter, 
 between a “ slight observation” of nature, and 
 scientific demonstration ? If so, we will say 
 there can be no Fine Art at all: for mere ab¬ 
 stract and formal rules cannot produce truth. 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 313 
 
 determine the meaning of the outward appear¬ 
 ance 5 what we object to as unwarrantable and 
 pernicious doctrine is substituting the one pro¬ 
 cess for the other, and speaking slightly of the 
 study of nature in the comparison. It shows 
 a want of faith in the principles and purposes 
 of the Art itself, and a wish to confound and 
 prop it up with the grave mysteries and formal 
 pretensions of Science; which is to take away 
 its essence and its pride. The student who sets 
 to work under such an impression may accumu¬ 
 late a great deal of learned lumber, and envelope 
 himself in diagrams, demonstrations, and the 
 whole circle of the sciences; but while he is 
 persuaded that the study of nature is but a 
 “ slight” part of his task, he will never be able 
 to draw, colour, or express a single object, 
 further than this can be done by a rule and 
 compasses. The crutches of Science will not 
 lend wings to Genius. 
 
 Suppose a person were to tell us that, if he 
 pulled off his coat and laid bare his arm, this 
 would give us (with all the attention we could 
 bestow upon it) no additional insight into its 
 form, colour, or the appearance of veins and 
 muscles on the surface, unless he at the same 
 suffered us to flay it; should we not laugh in 
 his face, as wanting common sense, or conclude 
 that he was laughing at us ? So the late Pro¬ 
 fessor of sculpture lays little stress, in accounting 
 for the progress of Grecian art, on the perfection 
 
320 
 
 FLAXMAN S LECTURES 
 
 no ostentation, no stiffness, no over-laboured 
 finishing. Every thing is in its place and de¬ 
 gree, and put to its proper use. The greatest 
 power is combined with the greatest ease; there 
 is the perfection of knowledge, with the total 
 absence of a conscious display of it. We find 
 so little of an appearance of art or labour that 
 we might be almost tempted to suppose that the 
 whole of these groups were done by means of 
 casts from fine nature for it is to be observed 
 that the commonest cast from nature has the 
 same style or character of union, and re-action 
 of parts, being copied from that which has life 
 and motion in itself. What adds a passing gleam 
 of probability to such a suggestion is that these 
 statues were placed at a height where only the 
 general effect could be distinguished, and that 
 the back and hinder parts, which are just as 
 scrupulously finished as the rest, and as true to 
 the mould of nature, were fixed against a wall 
 where they could not be seen at all; and where 
 the labour (if we do not suppose it to be in a 
 great measure abridged mechanically) was wholly 
 thrown away. However, we do not lay much 
 stress on this consideration; for we are aware 
 that " the labour we delight in physics pain,” 
 and we believe that the person who could do the 
 statue of the Theseus would do it, under all cir¬ 
 cumstances, and without fee or reward of any 
 kind. 
 
 We conceive that the Elgin Marbles settle 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 
 
 327 
 
 a regular oval. The opposite, to this, the Grecian 
 model of beauty is to be seen in the contour and 
 features of the African face, where all the lines, 
 instead of corresponding to, or melting into, one 
 another, in a kind of rhythmus of form, are sharp, 
 angular, and at cross purposes. Where strength 
 and majesty were to be expressed by the Greeks, 
 they adopted a greater squareness, but there was 
 the same unity and correspondence of outline. 
 Greek grace is harmony of movement. The 
 ideal may be regarded as a certain predominant 
 quality or character (this may be ugliness or 
 deformity as well as beauty, as is seen in the 
 forms of fauns and satyrs) diffused, over all the 
 parts of an object, and carried to the utmost 
 pitch that our acquaintance with visible models, 
 and our conception of the imaginary object, will 
 warrant. It is extending our impressions far¬ 
 ther, raising them higher than usual, from the 
 actual to the possible* How far we can enlarge 
 our discoveries from the one of. these to the 
 other is a point of some nicety. In treating on 
 this question, our author thus distinguishes the 
 natural and the ideal styles: 
 
 “ The natural style may be defined thus: a 
 representation of the human form, according to 
 
 * Verse and poetry has its source in this principle; it 
 is the harmony of the soul imparted from the strong im¬ 
 pulse of pleasure to language and to indifferent things ; as 
 a person hearing music walks in a sustained and mea¬ 
 sured step over uneven ground. 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 594. 
 
 595. 
 
 596 . 
 
 597. 
 
 598 . 
 
 599. 
 
 600 . 
 
 601 . 
 
 602 . 
 
 603. 
 
 604. 
 
 605. 
 
 606 . 
 
 607. 
 
 608 . 
 
 609. 
 
 610 . 
 611 . 
 
 612 . 
 
 613. 
 
 614. 
 
 615. 
 
 616 . 
 
 617 . 
 
 618 . 
 
 The Duchess of Brunswick, sister to \ 
 George III.J 
 
 Angelica Kauffman 
 
 Russell. 
 
 
 
 Vanderbank. 
 
 Russell. 
 
 
 The Second Lord and Lady Clarendon 
 The Family of Frederick Prince ofl 
 
 Wales .............J 
 
 The Daughter of Frederick II. of'i 
 Denmark ./ 
 
 Knapton. 
 
 B. Luti. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 A Princess of Prussia (a drawing) .... 
 
 
 
 
 Vanloo. 
 
 Battoni. 
 
 A. Vunder 3Ieulen. 
 
 
 A Cavalier on a White Horse. 
 
 A Cavalier on Horseback.. 
 
 A small whole-length Portrait of al 
 Man. J 
 
 F. Hals. 
 
 P. Perugino . 
 Zeeman. 
 
 
 
 
 3laingaud. 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Ramsey. 
 
 Louis XIV. of France (a drawing).... 
 
 Queen Charlotte, with the Prince of] 
 Wales, and Duke of York, when > 
 
 young 
 
 THE ANTE-ROOM. 
 
 619. 
 
 620 . 
 6211 
 622 J 
 
 View on the Thames . 
 View of Windsor Castle 
 
 Views of Portsmouth .. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Bankers. 
 
 623. 
 
 624. 
 
 625. 
 
 626 . 
 
 627 . 
 
 628 . 
 
 629. 
 
 630. 
 
 631. 
 
 632. 
 
 633. 
 
 634. 
 
 635. 
 
 636. 
 
 637. 
 
 638. 
 
 639. 
 
 640. 
 
 THE QUEEN’S PRIVATE CHAPEL. 
 
 Jonah under the Gourd ... 
 
 St. John.... 
 
 The Apostles at the Tomb 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 The Raising of Lazarus ... 
 Christ healing the Sick . . 
 
 Holy Family.. 
 
 Ecce Homo. 
 
 Holy Family.... 
 
 Ecce Homo . 
 
 Pharaoh sleeping. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Christ healing the Sick ... 
 
 The Annunciation . 
 
 The Tribute Money. 
 
 Peter in Prison. 
 
 Thief on the Cross ....... 
 
 M. Hemskerck. 
 [After] Correggio . 
 Anonymous. 
 
 [After] Tintoretto . 
 P. Perugino. 
 
 B. Van Orlay. 
 
 A. Verrio. 
 Anonymous. 
 r After] Titian . 
 Bassano. 
 
 [After] Titian . 
 
 Van Harp. 
 
 [After] Dosso Dossi. 
 31. Hemskerck . 
 Bassano. 
 
 P. V&'onese. 
 Steenwick. 
 
 P. del Vaga. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Uvi 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Battle-Piece. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Hunting Wild Cats. 
 
 Venus and Cupid, encircled with Flowers .. 
 
 Spaniard with a Guitar . 
 
 Venus and Satyr.. 
 
 Still Life . 
 
 Hon. Charles Cavendish asleep (Second Son 
 of William, Third Earl of Devonshire).. J 
 Door Piece . 
 
 CHINA CLOSET. 
 
 Birds and Beasts. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and John the Baptist (water'i 
 colours)./ 
 
 Parmegiano’s Mistress . , t .{ 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Clitie, in Crayons. 
 
 queen Elizabeth’s bed-room. 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 Tobit and Angel. 
 
 Christ in the Garden. 
 
 BACK DRESSING-ROOM. 
 
 Marriage procession of Othello and Desde- 'i 
 
 mona./ 
 
 Cottage Scene. 
 
 Another. 
 
 View near Naples . 
 
 Another. 
 
 Una and the Lion . 
 
 Lord Treasurer Burleigh. 
 
 Bunch of Grapes and Flowers. 
 
 Eruption of Mount Vesuvius, 1767 . 
 
 Sybil [After] Guido . 
 
 queen Elizabeth’s dressing-room. 
 
 Landscape.. 
 
 Bose and Glass . 
 
 Earth. 
 
 Fruit and Insects . 
 
 Duck Hunting. 
 
 Landscape. 
 
 Flower-Piece. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Water. 
 
 Abelard presenting Hymen to Eloisa . 
 
 Charles 1. 
 
 Charles II. and his Brothers and Sisters, j 
 
 Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I. 
 
 Fruit-Piece . 
 
 P • C. Verhoek. 
 Poussin. 
 
 Koninck. 
 
 Guercino £ Da Fiori. 
 Valentino. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 Ang. Battaglio. 
 
 C. Maratti . 
 
 L. Vagneer. 
 
 Koninck. 
 
 Passeri. 
 
 Patoun, 
 
 E. Peschi , [After] 
 Pannegiano. 
 Caravaggio. 
 
 Lady H. Fitzgerald. 
 
 G. Cliiari. 
 
 Mola. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Callot. 
 
 Fabris. 
 
 Miss Chaplin. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Miss Gray. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Hon. Miss Finch. 
 
 Ruysdael. 
 Vandermin. 
 Brueghel . 
 Busschert. 
 
 David of Antwerp. 
 Tempesta. 
 
 Baptist. 
 
 Brueghel. 
 Ang. Kunjfmn 
 Old Stone. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 M. Ang . Campidogho. 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 kix 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Prudence Resisting Love ............... 
 
 Burleigh House .. (1700.) 
 
 Worthorpe House..............(1700.) 
 
 THE GREAT DRAWING-ROOM* OR THIRD 
 GEORGE ROOM. 
 
 Kauffman, 
 Anonymous. 
 
 (The Ceiling) ..... 
 
 Landscape.... 
 
 Venus, Cupid, Ceres, and Bacchus. 
 
 Noble Venetian .. 
 
 (t I know not the Man ** .. 
 
 Resurrection of Lazarus ........ 
 
 Rebecca at the Well ............. 
 
 The Salutation..... 
 
 Winter.... 
 
 Christ bearing the Cross ..... 
 
 Wise Men* s Offering ........... . 
 
 Flower-Piece ... 
 
 Head of Joseph, a sketch .......... 
 
 Battle Piece... 
 
 Head of the Virgin.. 
 
 Pope Gregory the Great... 
 
 A Head.... 
 
 Battle Piece.. 
 
 A Head.... 
 
 Flower Piece .. 
 
 St. Bruno’s Vision .. 
 
 Christ in the Garden .............. 
 
 A Lady ..... 
 
 Judith with the Head of Holofernes 
 Adoration of the Shepherds ........ 
 
 Ascension of the Virgin............ 
 
 Our Saviour crowned with Thorns.. 
 
 Portrait of a Spaniard ..... 
 
 Sleeping Venus .................. 
 
 Landscape........ 
 
 Verrio. 
 
 L de Lestri, 
 
 Do Rutter. 
 
 Sophonisha Angosciola. 
 Caravaggio. 
 Geminiani. 
 
 Veronese. 
 
 Franceschini, 
 
 Mola. 
 
 Carlo Maratti, 
 Geminiani. 
 
 Riccio. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 A. Sac chi. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Riccio. 
 
 Mola, 
 
 Maratti . 
 
 Janssen. 
 
 Eliz. Sirani. 
 
 Floris. 
 
 Poussin. 
 
 Trevisani. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 D. Rutter. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 FOURTH GEORGE ROOM. 
 
 (The Ceiling represents the Nuptial Feast of' 
 
 Jupiter and Juno.)..... , 
 
 Virgin and Child........ 
 
 Landscape....... 
 
 St. Matthew ..... 
 
 St. Augustin ........................... 
 
 Christ’s Charge to Peter ................. 
 
 Holy Family.. ...................... ..... 
 
 Boys Dancing ... 
 
 Prodigal’s Return .. ........ .... ......... 
 
 Envy plucking the Wings of Youth ....... 
 
 St. James ... ........... 
 
 St. Peter. .... 
 
 Holy Family.................. ........... 
 
 Gathering Manna in the Wilderness....... 
 
 Jacob Receiving Joseph’s bloody Coat..... 
 
 Francisco Baglione, Confessor to the 1 
 House of Parma ...................... J 
 
 J oseph of Arimathea 
 
 Verrio, 
 
 L. da Vinci, 
 Claude. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 Veronese. 
 
 Giov. Bellini. 
 
 A. del Sarto . 
 Parmegiano. 
 Bassano. 
 
 Palma Vecclrn. 
 Spagnoletto. 
 Domenichino. 
 Palma Vecchio . 
 Bassano. 
 Guercino, 
 Schedone . 
 Guereino, 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/criticismsonarts1856hazl 
 
26 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 general truth, that makes the little, the deformed, 
 and the short-lived in art. No. 57, Religion in 
 the Desert, a sketch by Sir Francis Bourgeois, is 
 a proof of this remark. There are no details, 
 nor is there any appearance of permanence 
 or stability about it. It seems to have been 
 painted yesterday, and to labour under prema¬ 
 ture decay. It has a look of being half done, 
 and you have no wish to see it finished. No. 94, 
 Interior of a Cathedral, by Saenredam, is curious 
 and fine. From one end of the perspective to 
 the other — and back again—would make a 
 morning’s walk. 
 
 In the Second Room, No. 75, a Sea Storm, 
 by Backhuysen, and No. 92, A Calm, by W. 
 Vandervelde, are equally excellent, the one for 
 its gloomy turbulence, and the other for its 
 glassy smoothness. 30, Landscape with Cattle 
 and Figures, is by Both, who is, we confess, no 
 great favourite of ours. We do not like his 
 straggling branches of trees without masses of 
 foliage, continually running up into the sky, 
 merely to let in the landscape beyond. No. 
 37, Blowing Hot and Cold, by Jordaens, is as fine 
 a picture as need be painted. It is full of cha¬ 
 racter, of life, and pleasing colour. It is rich 
 and not gross. 87, Portrait of a Lady, said in 
 the printed Catalogue to be by Andrea Sacclii, is 
 surely by Carlo Maratti, to whom it used to be 
 given. It has great beauty, great elegance, great 
 expression, and great brilliancy of execution ; 
 
STAFFORD’S GALLERY. 
 
 43 
 
 is something in a name, in wide-spread reputation, 
 in endless renown, to satisfy the ambition of the 
 mind of man. Who in his works would vie 
 immortality with nature? An epitaph, an ever¬ 
 lasting monument in the dim remembrance of 
 ages, is enough below the skies. Moreover, the 
 sense of final inevitable decay humanises, and gives 
 an affecting character to the triumphs of exalted 
 art. Imperishable works executed by perishable 
 hands are a sort of insult to our nature, and 
 almost a contradiction in terms. They are un¬ 
 grateful children, and mock the makers. Neither 
 is the noble idea of antiquity legibly made out 
 without the marks of the progress and lapse of 
 time. That which is as good now as ever it was 
 seems a thing of yesterday. Nothing is old to 
 the imagination that does not appear to grow 
 old. Ruins are grander and more venerable than 
 any modern structure can be, or than the oldest 
 could be if kept in the most entire preservation. 
 They convey the perspective of time. So the 
 Elgin Marbles are more impressive from their 
 mouldering, imperfect state. They transport us 
 to the Parthenon, and old Greece. The Theseus 
 is of the age of Theseus : while the Apollo Bel¬ 
 vedere is a modern fine gentleman ; and we think 
 of this last figure only as an ornament to the 
 room where it happens to be placed.—We con¬ 
 ceive that those are persons of narrow minds who 
 cannot relish an author’s style that smacks of 
 time, that has a crust of antiquity over it, like 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 
 
 57 
 
 less agony, and faded like the life that is 
 just expiring in it. A Joseph and Potiphars 
 Wife, by Alessandro Veronese, a very clever and 
 sensible, but rigidly painted picture*—an Albert 
 Durer, the Death of the Virgin —a Female head, 
 by Leonardo da Vinci—and the Woman taken in 
 Adultery, by Pordenone, which last the reader 
 may admire or not, as he pleases. We cannot 
 close this list without referring to the Christ 
 hearing his cross, by Domenichino, a picture 
 full of interest and skill 5 and the little touch¬ 
 ing allegory of the Infant Christ sleeping on a 
 Cross, by Guido. 
 
 The Dutch School contains a number of ex¬ 
 cellent specimens of the best masters. There are 
 two Tenierses, a Fair, and Boors merry-making, 
 unrivalled for a look of the open air, for 
 lively awkward gesture, and variety gnd gro¬ 
 tesqueness of grouping and rustic character. 
 There is a little picture, by Le Nain, called 
 the Village Minstrel, with a set of youthful au¬ 
 ditors, the most incorrigible little mischievous 
 urchins we ever saw, but with admirable ex- 
 cution and expression. The Metzus are curi¬ 
 ous and fine—-the Ostades admirable. Gerard 
 Douw’s own portrait is certainly a gem. We 
 noticed a Ruysdael in one corner of the room 
 [No. 221], a dark, flat, wooded country, but 
 delectable in tone and pencilling. Vandevelde’s 
 
 * It is said in the catalogue to be painted on touch¬ 
 stone. 
 
Stafford’s gallery. 
 
 59 
 
 and they are equally calculated to delight the 
 student by the degree, or to inform the unini¬ 
 tiated by the variety, of excellence. Yet even 
 this Collection is not complete. It is deficient 
 in Rembrandts, Vandykes, and Rubenses ; except 
 one splendid allegory and fruit - piece by the 
 last. 
 
WINDSOR CASTLE. 
 
 63 
 
 his task so as to save his credit; and your first 
 impulse is to turn away from the picture, and 
 save your time. 
 
 In the next room, there are four Vandykes— 
 two of them excellent. One is the Duchess of 
 Richmond (3), a whole-length, in a white satin 
 drapery, with a pet lamb. The expression of her 
 face is a little sullen and capricious. The other, 
 the Countess of Carlisle (14), has a shrewd, 
 clever, sensible countenance; and, in a certain 
 archness of look, and the contour of the lower 
 part of the face, resembles the late Mrs. Jordan. 
 —Between these two portraits is a copy after 
 Rembrandt, by Gainsborough, a fine sombre, 
 mellow head, with the hat flapped over the 
 face.* 
 
 Among the most delightful and interesting of 
 the pictures in this Collection, is the portrait by 
 Vandyke, of Lady Venetia Digby (6). It is an 
 allegorical composition: but what truth, what 
 purity, what delicacy in the execution! You are 
 introduced into the presence of a beautiful wo¬ 
 man of quality of a former age, and it would be 
 next to impossible to perform an unbecoming 
 action with that portrait hanging in the room. 
 It has an air of nobility about it, a spirit of hu¬ 
 manity within it. There is a dove-like innocence 
 
 * The only male portrait, by Rembrandt, in Windsor 
 Castle is of a Young Man in a Turban. There is a copy, 
 by Gainsborough, from Rembrandt’s portrait of a Jewish 
 Rabbi, at Hampton Court. No. 541. 
 
THE GROSVENOR PICTURES. 97 
 
 Grosvenor’s. Neither do we wish by this al¬ 
 lusion to disparage Rubens ; for we think him 
 on the whole a greater genius, and a greater 
 painter, than the rival we have here opposed to 
 him, as we may attempt to shew when we come 
 to speak of the Collection at Blenheim. 
 
 There are some divine Claudes in the same 
 room; and they, too, are like looking through a 
 window at a select and conscious landscape. There 
 are five or six, all capital for the composition, 
 and highly preserved. There is a strange and 
 somewhat anomalous one of Christ on the Mount, 
 as if the artist had tried to contradict bimseit, 
 and yet it is Claude all over. Nobody but he 
 could paint one single atom of it. The Mount 
 is stuck up in the very centre of the picture, 
 against all rule, like a huge dirt-pie; but then 
 what an air breathes round it, what a sea encircles 
 it, what verdure clothes it, what flocks and herds 
 feed round it, immortal and unchanged ! 
 
 Close by it is the Arch of Constantine; but this is 
 to us a bitter disappointment. A print of it hung 
 in a little room in the country, where we used to 
 contemplate it by the hour together, and day after 
 day, and “sigh our souls ” into the picture. It 
 was the most graceful, the most perfect of all 
 Claude’s compositions. The Temple seemed to 
 come forward into the middle of the picture, as 
 in a dance, to show its unrivalled beauty, the 
 Vashti of the scene ! Young trees bent their 
 branches over it with playful tenderness; and, on 
 
 H 
 
PICTURES AT BLENHEIM. 
 
 133 
 
 spirit and freedom of Raphael’s hand, but without 
 any of the blotches and smearing of those at 
 Hampton Court; with which the damp of out¬ 
 houses and the dews of heaven have evidently 
 had nearly as much to do as the painter. Two 
 are heads of men, and two of women; one of 
 the last, Rachel weeping for her Children, and 
 another still finer (both are profiles) in which all 
 the force and boldness of masculine understanding 
 is combined with feminine softness of expression. 
 The large, ox-like eye, a “lucid mirror,” with 
 the eye-lids drooping, and the long eye-lashes 
 distinctly marked, the straight scrutinizing nose, 
 the full, but closed lips, the matronly chin and 
 high forehead, altogether convey a character of 
 matured thought and expansive feeling, such as 
 is seldom to be met with. Rachel weeping for 
 her Children has a sterner and more painful, but a 
 very powerful expression. It is heroic,rather than 
 pathetic. The heads of the men are spirited 
 and forcible, but they are distinguished chiefly by 
 the firmness of the outline, and the sharpness and 
 mastery of the execution. 
 
 Blenheim is a morning’s walk from Oxford, 
 and is not an unworthy appendage to it— 
 
 And fast by hanging in a golden chain 
 This pendent world, in bigness as a star 
 Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon ! 
 
 Blenheim is not inferior in waving woods and 
 sloping lawns and smooth waters to Pembroke’s 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 161 
 
 thus of them: “ In Raphael’s pictures (at the 
 Vatican) of the Dispute of the Sacrament, and the 
 School of Athens, one sees all the heads to be en¬ 
 tirely copied from particular characters in nature,, 
 nearly proper for the persons and situations which 
 he adapts them to; and he seems to me only to 
 add and take away what may answer his purpose 
 in little parts, features, &c.; conceiving, while he 
 had the head before him, ideal characters and 
 expressions, which he adapts their features and 
 peculiarities of face to. This attention to the par¬ 
 ticulars which distinguish all the different faces, 
 persons, and characters, the one from the other, 
 gives his pictures quite the verity and unaffected 
 dignity of nature, which stamp the distinguishing 
 differences betwixt one man’s face and body and 
 another’s.” 
 
 If any thing is wanting to the conclusiveness 
 of this testimony, it is only to look at the pic¬ 
 tures themselves ; particularly the Miracle of the 
 Conversion, and the Assembly of Saints, which are 
 little else than a collection of divine portraits, in 
 natural and expressive attitudes, full of the loftiest 
 thought and feeling, and as varied as they are fine. 
 It is this reliance on the power of nature which 
 has produced these masterpieces by the Prince of 
 Painters, in which expression is all in all; where 
 one spirit—that of truth—pervades every part, 
 brings down heaven to earth, mingles Cardinals 
 and Popes with angels and apostles, and yet blends 
 and harmonizes the whole by the true touches 
 
 M 
 
166 
 
 ON THE FINE AETS. 
 
 carried historical expression to the highest ideal 
 perfection; and yet it is equally certain that 
 their heads are carefully copied from faces and 
 expressions in nature. Leonardo excelled prin¬ 
 cipally in his women and children. There is, 
 in his female heads, a peculiar charm of expres¬ 
 sion, a character of natural sweetness and tender 
 playfulness, mixed up with the pride of conscious 
 intellect, and the graceful reserve of personal 
 dignity. He blends purity with voluptuousness ; 
 and the expression of his women is equally cha¬ 
 racteristic of “ the mistress or the saint.” His 
 pictures are worked up to the height of the idea 
 he had conceived, with an elaborate felicity; 
 but this idea was evidently first suggested, and 
 afterwards religiously compared with nature. 
 This was his excellence. His fault is that his 
 style of execution is too mathematical; that is, 
 his pencil does not follow the graceful variety 
 of the details of objects, but substitutes certain 
 refined gradations, both of form and colour, pro¬ 
 ducing equal changes in equal distances, with a 
 mechanical uniformity. Leonardo was a man of 
 profound learning as well as genius, and per¬ 
 haps transferred too much of the formality of 
 science to his favourite art. 
 
 The masterpieces of Correggio have the same 
 identity with nature, the same stamp of truth. 
 He has indeed given to his pictures the utmost 
 softness and refinement of outline and expres¬ 
 sion ; but this idea, at which he constantly aimed. 
 
172 
 
 ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 Raphael, though full of profound thought and 
 feeling, have more of common humanity about 
 them. Titian’s portraits are the most historical 
 that ever were painted; and they are so for this 
 reason, that they have most consistency of form 
 and expression. His portraits of Hippolito de 
 Medici and of a Young Neapolitan Nobleman, 
 lately in the gallery of the Louvre, are a striking 
 contrast in this respect. All the lines of the 
 face in the one, the eye-brows, the nose, the 
 corners of the mouth, the contour of the face, 
 present the same sharp angles, the same acute, 
 edgy, contracted, violent expression. The other 
 portrait has the finest expansion of feature o,nd 
 outline, and conveys the most exquisite idea of 
 mild thoughtful sentiment. The consistency of 
 the expression constitutes as great a charm in 
 Titian’s portraits as the harmony of the colour¬ 
 ing. The similarity sometimes objected to in his 
 heads is partly national and partly arises from 
 the class of persons whom he painted. He 
 painted only Italians; and in his time it rarely 
 happened that any but persons of the highest 
 rank, senators or cardinals, sat for their pictures. 
 The similarity of costume, of the dress, the 
 beard, &c. also adds to the similarity of their 
 appearance. It adds, at the same time, to their 
 picturesque effect; and the alteration in this 
 respect is one circumstance, among others, that 
 has been injurious, not to say fatal, to modern 
 art. This observation is not confined to por- 
 
OF THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 177 
 
 If ever there was a man of genius in the art, 
 it was Rembrandt. He might be said to have 
 created a medium of his own, through which he 
 saw all objects. He Was the grossest and the 
 least vulgar, that is to say, the least common¬ 
 place in his grossness, of all men. He was the 
 most downright, the least fastidious of the imi¬ 
 tators of nature. He took any object, he cared 
 not what, how mean soever in form, colour, and 
 expression; and from the light and shade which 
 he threw upon it, it came out gorgeous from his 
 hands. As Vandyke made use of the smallest 
 contrasts of light and shade, and painted as if in 
 the open air, Rembrandt used the most violent 
 and abrupt contrasts in this respect, and painted 
 his objects as if in a dungeon. His pictures may 
 be said to be “ bright with excessive darkness.” 
 His vision had acquired a lynx-eyed sharpness 
 from, the artificial obscurity to which he had ac¬ 
 customed himself. “ Mystery and silence hung 
 upon his pencil.” Yet he could pass rapidly 
 from one extreme to another, and dip his colours 
 with equal success in the gloom of night or in 
 the blaze of the noon-day sun. In surrounding 
 different objects with a medium of imagination, 
 solemn or-dazzling, he was a true poet; in all 
 the rest he was a mere painter, but a painter of 
 no common stamp. The powers of his hand 
 were equal to those of his eye; and, indeed, he 
 could not have attempted the subjects he did, 
 without an execution as masterly as his know- 
 
 N 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 215 
 
 It is owing either t" a mistaken theory of 
 elevated art, or to the Nant of models in na¬ 
 ture, that the English are hitherto without any 
 painter of serious historical subjects, who can 
 be placed in the first rank of genius. Many 
 of the pictures of modern artists have evidenced 
 a capacity for correct and happy delineations 
 of actual objects and domestic incidents only 
 inferior to the masterpieces of the Dutch school. 
 I might here mention the names of Wilkie, 
 Collins, Heaphy, and others. We have portrait- 
 painters who have attained to a very high 
 degree of excellence in all the branches of their 
 art. In landscape. Turner has shown a know¬ 
 ledge of the effects of air, and of powerful relief 
 in objects which was never surpassed. But in 
 the highest walk of art—in giving the move¬ 
 ments of the finer and loftier passions of the 
 mind, this country has not produced a single 
 painter who has made even a faint approach 
 to the excellence of the great Italian painters. 
 We have, indeed, a good number of specimens 
 of the clay figure, the anatomical mechanism, the 
 regular proportions measured by a two-foot 
 rule ;—large canvasses, covered with stiff figureSj 
 arranged in deliberate order, with the characters 
 and story correctly expressed by uplifted eyes 
 or hands, according to old receipt-books for 
 the passions; with all the hardness and inflexi¬ 
 bility of figures carved in wood, and painted 
 over in good strong body colours, that look 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 *219 
 
 breathes through every part; it either agitates 
 the inmost frame, or plays in gentle undula¬ 
 tions on the trembling surface. Whether we 
 see his figures bending with all the blandish¬ 
 ments of maternal love, or standing in the 
 motionless silence of thought, or hurried into 
 the tumult of action, the whole is under the 
 impulse of deep passion. But Mr. West saw 
 hardly any thing in the human face but bones 
 and cartilages ; or if he availed himself of the 
 more flexible machinery of nerves and muscles 
 it was only by rule and method. The effect is 
 not that which the soul of passion impresses 
 on the countenance, and which the soul of 
 genius alone can seize; but such as might in 
 a good measure, be given to wooden puppets 
 or pasteboard figures, pulled by wires, and 
 taught to open the mouth, or knit the fore¬ 
 head, or raise the eyes in a very scientific 
 manner. In fact, there is no want of art or 
 limning in his pictures, but of nature and 
 feeling. 
 
 It is not long since an opinion was very 
 general that all that was wanting to the high¬ 
 est splendour and perfection of the arts in this 
 country might be supplied by academies and 
 public institutions. There are three ways in 
 which academies and public institutions may be 
 supposed to promote the fine arts; either by fur¬ 
 nishing the best models to the student, or by 
 holding out immediate emolument and patronage. 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 233 
 
 student’s thoughts from his morning’s work, 
 rather than to rivet them upon it. The device 
 by which a celebrated painter has represented 
 the Virgin teaching the infant Christ to read 
 by pointing with a butterfly to the letters of 
 the alphabet, has not been thought a very wise 
 one. Correggio is the most melancholy in¬ 
 stance on record of the want of a proper en¬ 
 couragement of the arts : but a golden shower 
 of patronage, tempting as that which fell into 
 the lap of his own Danae, and dropping prize 
 medals and epic mottoes, would not produce 
 another Correggio ! 
 
 Lastly, Academicians and institutions may be 
 supposed to assist the progress of the fine arts, 
 by promoting a wider taste for them. 
 
 In general, it must happen in the first stages 
 of the arts that, as none but those who had 
 a natural genius for them would attempt to 
 practise them, so none but those who had a 
 natural taste for them would pretend to judge 
 of or criticise them. This must be an incal¬ 
 culable advantage to the man of true genius ; 
 for it is no other than the privilege of being 
 tried by his peers. In an age when connois- 
 seurship had not become a fashion,—when 
 religion, war, and intrigue, occupied the time 
 and thoughts of the great,—only those minds 
 of superior refinement would be led to notice 
 the works of art, who had a real sense of their 
 excellence 5 and in giving way to the powerful 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 239 
 
 not by popular consent, nor the common sense 
 of the world. We imagine that the admiration 
 of the works of celebrated men has become 
 common because the admiration of their names 
 has become so. But does not every ignorant 
 connoisseur pretend the same veneration, and 
 talk with the same vapid assurance of M. Angelo, 
 though he has never seen even a copy of any 
 of his pictures, as if he had studied them accu¬ 
 rately,—merely because Sir J. Reynolds has 
 praised him ? Is Milton more popular now 
 than when the Paradise Lost was first published ? 
 Or does he not rather owe his reputation to 
 the judgment of a few persons in every suc¬ 
 cessive period, accumulating in his favour, and 
 overpowering by its weight the public indiffer¬ 
 ence ? Why is Shakspere popular ? Not from 
 his refinement of character or sentiment, so 
 much as from his power of telling a story,—the 
 variety and invention,—the tragic catastrophe, 
 and broad farce, of his plays ! His characters 
 of Imogen or Desdemona, Hamlet or Kent, are 
 little understood or relished by the generality 
 of readers. Does not Boccaccio pass to this 
 day for a writer of ribaldry, because his jests 
 and lascivious tales were all that caught the 
 vulgar ear, while the story of the Falcon is 
 forgotten ? 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 24* 
 
 mass, and every part of it, is the glory of the 
 Elgin Marbles : — put a well - formed human 
 body in the same position, and it will display the 
 same character throughout; make a cast from 
 it while in that position and action, and we shall 
 still see the same bold, free, and comprehensive 
 truth of design. There is no alliteration or 
 antithesis in the style of the Elgin Marbles, no 
 setness, squareness, affectation, or formality of 
 appearance. The different muscles do not present 
 a succession of tumuli, each heaving with big 
 throes to rival the other. If one is raised, the 
 other falls quietly into its place. Neither do the 
 different parts of the body answer to one another, 
 like shoulder-knots on a lacquey’s coat, or the 
 different ornaments of a building. The sculptor 
 does not proceed on architectural principles. 
 His work has the freedom, the variety, and stamp 
 of nature. The form of corresponding parts is 
 indeed the same, but it is subject to inflection, 
 from different circumstances. There is no prim¬ 
 ness or petit uialtre-ship, as in some of the later 
 antiques, where the artist seemed to think that 
 flesh was glass or some other brittle substance ; 
 and that if it were put out of its exact shape it 
 would break in pieces. Here, on the contrary, 
 if the foot of one leg is bent under the body, the 
 leg itself undergoes an entire alteration. If one 
 side of the body is raised above the other, the 
 original, or abstract, or ideal form of the two 
 sides is not preserved strict and inviolable, but 
 
254 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 cur own want of observation and imagination, 
 for ever, and to melt down the inequalities and 
 excrescences of individual nature in the monotony 
 of abstraction ? Oh no ! As well might we pre¬ 
 fer the cloud to the rainbow; the dead corpse to 
 the living moving body! So Sir Joshua debated 
 upon Rubens’s landscapes, and has a whole 
 chapter to inquire whether accidents in nature, 
 that is, rainbows, moonlight, sun - sets, clouds 
 and storms, are the proper thing in the classical 
 style of art. 
 
 Again, it is urged that this is not what is meant, 
 viz. to exclude different classes or characters of 
 things, but that there is in each class or charac¬ 
 ter a middle 'point, which is the point of perfec¬ 
 tion. What middle point ? Or how is it ascer¬ 
 tained ? What is the middle age of childhood ? 
 Or are all children to be alike, dark or fair ? 
 Some of Titian’s children have black hair, and 
 others yellow or auburn; who can tell which is 
 the most beautiful ? May not a St. John be older 
 than an infant Christ ? Must not a Magdalen be 
 different from a Madonna, Diana from a Venus? 
 Or may not a Venus have more or less gravity, 
 a Diana more or less sweetness ? What then 
 becomes of the abstract idea in any of these 
 cases ? It varies as it does in nature; that is, 
 there is indeed a general principle or character 
 to be adhered to, but modified everlastingly by 
 various other given or nameless circumstances. 
 The highest art, like nature, is a living spring of 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 255 
 
 unconstrained excellence, and does not produce 
 a continued repetition of itself, like plaster-casts 
 from the same figure. 
 
 But once more it may be insisted that, in 
 what relates to mere form or organic structure, 
 there is necessarily a middle line or central 
 point, any thing short of which is deficiency, and 
 any thing beyond it excess, being the average 
 form to which all the other forms included in 
 the same species tend, and approximate more 
 or less. Then this average form, as it exists 
 in nature, should be taken as the model for 
 art. What occasion to do it out of your own 
 head, when you can bring it under the cognizance 
 of your senses ? Suppose a foot of a certain 
 size and shape to be the standard of perfection, 
 or if you will, the mean proportion between all 
 other feet. How can you tell this so well as 
 by seeing it ? How can you copy it so well as by 
 having it actually before you ? But, you will 
 say, there are particular minute defects in the 
 best-shaped actual foot which ought not to be 
 transferred to the imitation. Be it so. But are 
 there not also particular minute beauties in the 
 best, or even the worst shaped actual foot, which 
 you will only discover by ocular inspection, 
 which are reducible to no measurement or pre¬ 
 cepts, and which in finely developed nature out¬ 
 weigh the imperfections a thousand fold, the 
 proper general form being contained there also, 
 and these being only the distinctly articulated 
 
ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 271 
 
 a dimple in the chin ; and she has one. But this 
 will imply certain correspondent indications in 
 other parts of the features, about the corners of 
 the mouth, a gentle undulation and sinking in of 
 the cheek, as if it had just been pinched, and so 
 on : yet so as to be consistent with the other 
 qualities of roundness, smoothness, &c., which 
 belong to the idea of the character. Who will 
 get all this and embody it out of the idea of a 
 middle form, I cannot say: it may be, and has 
 been, got out of the idea of a number of distinct 
 enchanting graces in the mind, and from some 
 heavenly object unfolded to the sight! 
 
 4. That the historical is nature in action. With 
 regard to the face, it is expression. 
 
 Hogarth’s pictures are true history. Every 
 feature, limb, figure, group, is instinct with life 
 and motion. He does not take a subject and 
 place it in a position, like a lay figure, in which 
 it stirs neither limb nor joint. The scene 
 moves before you : the face is like a frame-work 
 of flexible machinery. If the mouth is distorted 
 with laughter, the eyes swim in laughter. If 
 the forehead is knit together, the cheeks are 
 puckered up. If a fellow squints most horribly, 
 the rest of his face is awry. The muscles pull 
 different ways, or the same way, at the same 
 time, on the surface of the picture, as they do in 
 the human body. What you see is the reverse 
 of still life. There is a continual and complete 
 action and reaction of one variable part upon 
 
2~4 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 but the expression will hardly sit for the last. 
 Perhaps those passions are the best subjects for 
 painting the expression of which may be retained 
 for some time, so as to be better caught, which 
 throw out a sort of lambent fire, and leave a re¬ 
 flected glory behind them, as we see in Madonnas, 
 Christ’s heads, and what is understood by sacred 
 subjects in general. The violences of human 
 passion are too soon over to be copied by the 
 hand, and the mere conception of the internal 
 workings is not here sufficient, as it is in poetry. 
 A portrait is to history what still life is to por¬ 
 traiture : that is, the whole remains the same 
 while you are doing it, or while you are occupied 
 about each part, the rest wait for you. Yet, 
 what a difference is there between taking an 
 original portrait, and making a copy of one! 
 This shows that the face in its most ordinary 
 state is continually varying and in action. So 
 much of history is there in portrait!—No one 
 should pronounce definitively on the superiority 
 of history over portrait, without recollecting 
 Titian’s heads. The finest of them are very 
 nearly (say quite) equal to the finest of Raphael’s. 
 They have almost the look of still-life, yet each 
 part is decidedly influenced by the rest. Every 
 thing is relative in them. You cannot put any 
 other eye, nose, lip, in the same face. As is one 
 part, so is the rest. You cannot fix on any par¬ 
 ticular beauty ; the charm is in the whole. 
 They have least action, and the most expression 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
xvi 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. Title of Picture. Painted by 
 
 131. Virgin and Child. 
 
 Andrea del Sarto. 
 Sebastian del Piombo. 
 Correggio. 
 
 J. de Mabuse. 
 
 Parmegiuno. 
 
 G. Romano. 
 
 
 134. The Virgin and Child, with St. An -1 
 drew and St. Michael ./ 
 
 130) 
 
 
 
 C. Cignani. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 142. An Old Man with a Large Beard .... 
 
 
 
 Pordenone. 
 
 
 
 F. Floris. 
 
 C. Cignani. 
 
 Van Orley. 
 
 G. Romano. 
 
 D. Fetti. 
 
 Rosso Dossi. 
 
 Himself. 
 
 N. Poussin. 
 
 
 
 
 THE KING’S DR.VWING-BOOM. 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Willison. 
 
 Polidoro. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Pordenone. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 
 
 
 
 160 . The Presentation of Queen Esther .... 
 
 
 
 Luca Giordano. 
 
 Car let to Cagliari. 
 
 Old Stone, after Titian. 
 Gentileschi. 
 
 Sir W. Beechey. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 Bassano. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 
 
 
 166 . George III. reviewing the 10th Lights 
 •Dragoons (now Hussars) ./ 
 
 
 169 . Our Saviour in the House with Mary ) 
 and Martha.) 
 
 
 
 Pordenone. 
 
 Verrio. 
 
 Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 KING WILLIAM THE THIRD’S BED¬ 
 ROOM. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Verelst. 
 
 Gascar. 
 
 
 
Ixxviii 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 No. 
 
 8 . 
 
 9. 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 . 
 
 12 . 
 
 13. 
 
 14. 
 
 15. 
 
 16. 
 
 17 . 
 
 18. 
 19- 
 20 . 
 21 . 
 22 . 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 
 26 . 
 
 ~7- 
 
 28. 
 
 29- 
 
 30. 
 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 
 33. 
 
 34. 
 
 35. 
 
 36. 
 
 37. 
 
 38. 
 
 39. 
 
 43. 
 
 44. 
 
 45. 
 
 46. 
 47- 
 
 48. 
 
 49 . 
 
 50. 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 View of Antwerp. 
 
 The Marriage in Cana. 
 
 BOW-WINDOW ROOM. 
 
 Mignard. 
 Minderhout. 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 St. Jerome Studying. 
 
 Henrietta Maria. Queen of Charles I.. 
 
 A Head, after A. Curacci . 
 
 Lady Anne Churchill. 
 
 The Assumption. 
 
 A Female Head . 
 
 Madonna and Child . 
 
 Nymphs and Satyr. 
 
 Holy Family . 
 
 A Wood Nymph. 
 
 An Allegorical Drawing. 
 
 Our Saviour and the Virgin in the'< 
 
 Clouds.J 
 
 A Frame of twenty-three Miniatures "j 
 by various Masters ; among which > 
 are three of Mary, Queen of Scots J 
 
 An Etching... 
 
 A Drawing .. 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 Giorgione. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Reynolds. 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Rubens. 
 
 L. da Vinci. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 L. Curacci. 
 
 By the Princess Royal. 
 Cipriani. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Queen of Wirtemberg, 
 Cipriani. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 duke’s study. 
 
 (Beginning opposite the Entrance from 
 the Bow-Window Room.) 
 
 A Sleeping Venus and Satyr. 
 
 Time Clipping Cupid’s Wings . 
 
 Madonna and Child . 
 
 St. John reading the Apocalypse. 
 
 Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. 
 
 St. Sebastian . 
 
 Interior of a Church . 
 
 A Holy Family. 
 
 A Landscape... 
 
 A Holy Family . 
 
 A Battle- I'iece. 
 
 A Spanish Sea-Port . 
 
 The Passage of the Red Sea. 
 
 A Holy Family . 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Scene in Switzerland. 
 
 Another... 
 
 King William on Horseback . 
 
 Venus and Adonis . 
 
 The Offering of the Magi .. 
 
 Destruction of Pharaoh and his Host! 
 
 in the Red Sea./ 
 
 Orpheus playing to the Beasts . 
 
 A Landscape. 
 
 The Virgin and Child. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Kneller. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Neefs. 
 
 Raphael. 
 
 F. Mola. 
 Raphael (?) 
 Borgognone. 
 Wecnix. 
 
 Old Franck. 
 Anonymous. 
 Solimene. 
 
 Van Tempest. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Carlo Dolce. 
 Old Franck. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Claude. 
 
 Correggio. 
 
 EAST DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 (Beginning from the Door opposite the 
 Entrance.) 
 
 A View in Venice . 
 
 51. 
 
 Canaletti. 
 
14 
 
 MR. ANGERSTEIn’s COLLECTION. 
 
 masses of sky, of water, &c., were laid on with 
 plates of tin or lead. This is not a general de¬ 
 fect in Claude : his landscapes have the greatest 
 quantity of inflection, the most delicate brilliancy, 
 of all others. A lady had been making a good 
 copy of the Sea-port [14], which is a companion 
 to the one we have described. We do not think 
 these Claudes, famous as they are, equal to Lord 
 Egremont’s Jacob and Laban ; to the Enchanted 
 Castle; to a green vernal Landscape, which was 
 in Walsh Porter’s Collection, and which was the 
 very finest we ever saw [6] ; nor to some others 
 that have appeared from time to time in the 
 British Institution. We are sorry to make this, 
 which may be thought an ill-natured, remark ; 
 but, though we have a great respect for Mr. An- 
 gerstein’s taste, we have a greater for Claude 
 Lorraine’s reputation. Let any persons admire 
 these specimens of his art as much as they will 
 (and the more they admire them, the more we 
 shall be gratified), and then we will tell them, 
 he could do far finer things than these! 
 
 There is one Rembrandt, and one N. Poussin. 
 The Rembrandt (the Woman taken in Adultery) 
 [45], prodigious in colouring, in light, and shade, 
 in pencilling, in solemn effect; but that is nearly 
 all— 
 
 of outward show 
 Elaborate, of inward less exact. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is worth any money. The Christ 
 has considerable seriousness and dignity of as- 
 
22 
 
 THE DULWICH GALLERY. 
 
 but the great attraction to curiosity at present is 
 the Collection of pictures left to the College 
 by the late Sir Francis Bourgeois, who is buried 
 in a mausoleum close by. He once (it is said) 
 spent an agreeable day here in company with 
 the Masters of the College and some other 
 friends ; and he determined, in consequence, 
 upon this singular mode of testifying his grati¬ 
 tude and his respect. Perhaps, also, some such 
 idle thoughts as we have here recorded might 
 have mingled with this resolution. The con¬ 
 templation and the approach of death might have 
 been softened to his mind by being associated 
 with the hopes of childhood ; and he might wish 
 that his remains should repose, in monumental 
 state, amidst “ the innocence and simplicity 
 of poor Charity Boys 1 ” Might it not have 
 been so ? 
 
 The pictures are 360 in number, and are hung 
 on the walls of a large gallery, built for the 
 purpose, and divided into five compartments. 
 They certainly looked better in their old places, 
 at the house of Mr. Desenfans (the original 
 collector), where they were distributed into a 
 number of small rooms, and seen separately and 
 close to the eye. They are mostly cabinet-pic¬ 
 tures ; and not only does the height, at which 
 many of them are necessarily hung to cover a 
 large space, lessen the effect, but the number 
 distracts and deadens the attention. Besides, 
 the skylights are so contrived as to “ shed a 
 
74 
 
 THE PICTURES AT 
 
 Knellers, the Verrios, and the different portraits 
 of the Royal Family, and come at once to the 
 Nine Muses, by Tintoret (138). Or rather, his 
 Nine Muses are summed up in one, the back- 
 figure in the right-hand corner as you look at 
 the picture, which is all grandeur, elegance, and 
 grace.—We should think that in the gusto of 
 form and a noble freedom of outline, Michael 
 Angelo could hardly have surpassed this figure. 
 The face too, which is half turned round, is 
 charmingly handsome. The back, the shoulders, 
 the legs, are the perfection of bold delicacy, 
 expanded into full-blown luxuriance, and then 
 retiring as it were from their own proud beauty 
 and conscious charms into soft and airy loveli¬ 
 ness— 
 
 Fine by degrees, and beautifully less. 
 
 Is it a Muse ? Or is it not a figure formed for 
 action more than contemplation ? Perhaps this 
 hypercritical objection may be true ; and it 
 might without any change of character or im¬ 
 propriety be supposed, from its buoyancy, its 
 ease, and sinewy elasticity, to represent the 
 quivered Goddess shaping her bow for the chase. 
 But, at any rate, it is the figure of a Goddess, or 
 of a woman in shape equal to a Goddess. The 
 colour is nearly gone, so that it has almost the 
 tone of a black and white chalk-drawing; and 
 the effect of form remains pure and unrivalled. 
 There are several other very pleasing and ablv- 
 
PICTURES AT BURLEIGH HOUSE. 
 
 _——4.- 
 
 Burleigh ! thy groves are leafless, thy walls 
 are naked— 
 
 “ And dull, cold winter does inhabit here.” 
 
 The yellow evening rays gleam through thy 
 fretted Gothic windows ; but I only feel the 
 rustling of withered branches strike chill to my 
 breast; it was not so twenty years ago. Thy 
 groves were leafless then as now: it was the 
 middle of winter twice that I visited thee before; 
 but the lark mounted in the sky, and the sun 
 smote my youthful blood with its slant ray, and 
 the ploughman whistled as he drove his team 
 afield ; Hope spread out its glad vista through 
 thy fair domains, oh, Burleigh ! Fancy decked 
 thy walls with works of sovereign art, and it 
 was spring, not winter, in my breast. All is 
 still the same, like a petrifaction of the mind— 
 the same thing in the same places ; but their 
 effect is not the same upon me. I am twenty 
 years the worse for wear and tear. What is 
 
 1 2 
 
MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. 
 
 151 
 
 is made out. They exhibit the most uncommon 
 features with the most uncommon expressions, 
 but which are yet as familiar and intelligible as 
 possible, because with all the boldness they have 
 all the truth of nature. Hogarth has left behind 
 him as many of these memorable faces, in their 
 memorable moments, as perhaps most of us re¬ 
 member in the course of our lives, and has thus 
 doubled the quantity of our observation. 
 
 We have already attempted to point out the 
 fund of observation, physical and moral, con¬ 
 tained in one set of these pictures, the Marriage 
 d.-la-Mode. The rest would furnish as many 
 topics to descant upon, were the patience of the 
 reader as inexhaustible as the painter’s invention. 
 But, as this is not the case, we shall content our¬ 
 selves with barely referring to some of those 
 figures in the other pictures, which appear the 
 most striking, and which we see not only while 
 we are looking at them, but which we have 
 before us at all other times.—For instance, who 
 having seen can easily forget that exquisite frost- 
 piece of religion and morality, the antiquated 
 Prude in the Morning Scene ; or that striking 
 commentary on the good old times, the little 
 wretched appendage of a Foot-boy, who crawls 
 half-famished and half-frozen behind her ? The 
 French Man and Woman in the Noon are the 
 perfection of flighty affectation and studied 
 grimace; the amiable fraternization of the two 
 old Women saluting each other is not enough to 
 
ON THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 193 
 
 are of two classes, or periods, his early and his 
 later pictures. The former are minute imitations 
 of nature, or of painters who imitated nature, 
 such as Ruysdael, &c., some of which have 
 great truth and clearness. His later pictures are 
 flimsy caricatures of Rubens, who himself car¬ 
 ried inattention to the details to the utmost limit 
 that it would bear. Many of Gainsborough’s 
 later landscapes may be compared to bad water¬ 
 colour drawings, washed in by mechanical move¬ 
 ments of the hand, without any communication 
 with the eye. The truth seems to be that 
 Gainsborough found there was something want¬ 
 ing in his early manner, that is, something 
 beyond the literal imitations of the details of 
 natural objects; and he appears to have con¬ 
 cluded, rather hastily, that the way to arrive at 
 that something more was to discard truth and 
 nature altogether.* His fame rests principally, 
 
 attention is immediately directed. Gainsborough’s own 
 portrait, which has, however, much truth and character, 
 and makes a fine print, seems to have been painted with 
 the handle of his brush. There is a portrait of the Prince 
 Regent leading a Horse, in which, it must be confessed, 
 the man has the advantage of the animal.— Morning 
 Chronicle, 1815. 
 
 * He, accordingly, ran from one extreme into the 
 other. We cannot conceive anything carried to a greater 
 excess of slender execution and paltry glazing, than a 
 Fox hunted with Greyhounds, a Romantic Landscape, 
 with Sheep at a Fountain, and many others. We were, 
 however, much pleased with an upright landscape, with 
 figures, which has a fine, fresh appearance of the open 
 
 o 
 
242 
 
 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 he will own that art and nature are here the 
 same thing. It is the same in the back of the 
 Theseus, in the thighs and knees, and in all 
 that remains unimpaired of these two noble 
 figures. It is not the same in the cast (which 
 was shown at Lord Elgin’s) of the famous 
 Torso by Michael Angelo, the style of which 
 that artist appears to have imitated too well. 
 There every muscle has obviously the greatest 
 prominence and force given to it of which it 
 is capable in itself, not of which it is capable 
 in connection with others. This fragment is 
 an accumulation of mighty parts, without that 
 play and re-action of each part upon the rest, 
 without that “ alternate action and repose,” 
 which Sir Thomas Lawrence speaks of as char¬ 
 acteristic of the Theseus and the Ilissus, and 
 which are as inseparable from nature as waves 
 from the sea. The learned, however, here make 
 a distinction, and suppose that the truth of 
 nature is, in the Elgin marbles, combined with 
 ideal forms. If by ideal forms they mean fine 
 natural forms, we have nothing to object; but 
 if they mean that the sculptors of the Theseus 
 and Ilissus got the forms out of their own 
 heads, and then tacked the truth of nature 
 to them, we can only say, “ Let them look 
 again, let them look again.” We consider 
 the Elgin Marbles as a demonstration of 
 the impossibility of separating art from na¬ 
 ture, without a proportionable loss at every 
 
270 ON THE ELGIN MARBLES. 
 
 march neither of nature nor of art. It is not 
 denied that these antique sculptures are models 
 of the ideal; nay, it is on them that this theory 
 boasts of being founded. Yet they give a flat 
 contradiction to its insipid mediocrity. Perhaps 
 some of them have a slight bias to the false 
 ideal, to the smooth and uniform, or the negation 
 of nature: any error on this side is, however, 
 happily set right by the Elgin Marbles, which 
 are the paragons of sculpture and the mould 
 of form. 
 
 As the ideal, then, requires a difference of 
 character in each figure as a whole, so it expects 
 the same character (or a corresponding one) to 
 be stamped on each part of every figure. As the 
 legs of a Diana should be more muscular and 
 adapted for running than those of a Venus or a 
 Minerva, so the skin of her face ought to be more 
 tense, bent on her prey, and hardened by being 
 exposed to the winds of heaven. The respective 
 characters of lightness, softness, strength, &c., 
 should pervade each part of the surface of each 
 figure, but still varying according to the texture 
 and functions of the individual part. This can 
 only be learned or practised from an attentive 
 observation of nature in those forms in which 
 any given character or excellence is most striking¬ 
 ly displayed, and which has been selected for 
 imitation and study on that account. 
 
 Suppose a dimple in the chin to be a mark 
 of voluptuousness ; then the Venus should have 
 
296 
 
 FONTHILL ABBEY. 
 
 time out of mind the stale ornaments of a pawn¬ 
 broker’s shop • or about old Brueughel, or Stella, 
 or Franks, or Lucas Cranach, or Netecher, or 
 Cosway ?—But at that last name we pause, and 
 must be excused if we consecrate to him a petit 
 souvenir in our best manner: for he was Fancy’s 
 child. All other collectors are fools to him: 
 they go about with painful anxiety to find out 
 the realities :—he said he had them—and in a 
 moment made them of the breath of his nostrils 
 and the fumes of a lively imagination. His was 
 the crucifix that Abelard prayed to—the original 
 manuscript of the Rape of the Lock—the dag¬ 
 ger with which Felton stabbed the Duke of 
 Buckingham—the first finished sketch of the 
 Jocunda — Titian's large colossal portrait of 
 Peter Aretine—a mummy of some particular 
 Egyptian king. Were the articles authentic ? 
 —no matter—his faith in them was true. What 
 a fairy palace was his of specimens of art, anti- 
 quarianism, and vertil, jumbled all together in 
 the richest disorder, dusty, shadowy, obscure, 
 with much left to the imagination (how different 
 from the finical, polished, petty, perfect, modern¬ 
 ised air of Fonthill!) and with copies of the old 
 masters, cracked and damaged, which he touched 
 and retouched with his own hand, and yet swore 
 they were the genuine, the pure originals ! He 
 was gifted with a second-sight in such matters : 
 he believed whatever was incredible. Happy 
 mortal! Fancy bore sway in him, and so vivid 
 
ON SCULPTURE. 32$ 
 
 the most perfect of all forms, because it contains 
 in it the principles and powers of all inferior 
 forms.’ This assertion is either a flat contradic¬ 
 tion of the fact, or an antique riddle, which we 
 do not pretend to solve. Indeed, we hold the 
 antients, with all our veneration for them, to 
 have been wholly destitute of philosophy in 
 this department; and Mr. Fiaxman, who was 
 taught when he was young to look up to them 
 for light and instruction in the philosophy of 
 art, has engrafted too much of it on his lectures. 
 He defines beauty thus: ‘The most perfect 
 human beauty is that most free from deformity, 
 either of body or mind, and may be therefore 
 defined—The most perfect soul in the most per¬ 
 fect body.’ In support of this truism, he strings 
 a number of quotations together, as if he were 
 stringing pearls: 
 
 * In Plato’s dialogue concerning the beautiful, 
 he shows the power and influence of mental 
 beauty on corporeal 3 and in his dialogue, enti¬ 
 tled “ The greater Hippias,” Socrates observes 
 in argument, “That as a beautiful vase is infe¬ 
 rior to a beautiful horse, and as a beautiful horse 
 is not to be compared with a beautiful virgin, 
 in the same manner a beautiful virgin is inferior 
 in beauty to the immortal Gods ; for,” says he, 
 “there is a beauty incorruptible, ever the same.” 
 It is remarkable that, immediately after, he says, 
 “ Phidias is skilful in beauty. ” Aristotle, the 
 scholar of Plato, begins his Treatise on Morals 
 
 y 2 
 
HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 xv 
 
 No. 
 
 Title ot Picture. 
 
 Portrait of herself . 
 
 Alexander de Medici. 
 
 Charles I. on Horseback . 
 
 Philip IV. of Spain, and his Queen .. 
 
 Jacob’s departure from Laban . 
 
 Joseph and Mary ... 
 
 The Seasons. 
 
 Judith and Holofernes ............ | 
 
 The Last Supper . 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul . 
 
 Tobit and the Angel . 
 
 Portrait of himself .. 
 
 Diana and Action. 
 
 The Marriage of St. Catharine. 
 
 St. Francis and the Virgin . 
 
 Christian IV., King of Denmark _ 
 
 Cupids and Satyrs . 
 
 Jacob, Rachel, and Leah . 
 
 Jacob’s Journey... 
 
 Peter Oliver, the Painter .. 
 
 A Dutch Gentleman .. 
 
 Joseph brought before Pharaoh. 
 
 A Man’s Portrait .. 
 
 Joseph’s departure from Jacob . 
 
 A Portrait of a Gentleman . 
 
 THE AUDIENCE CHAMBER. 
 
 Our Saviour in the Rich Man’s'I 
 House—Mary Magdalen anointing > 
 
 his feet .....J 
 
 Christ healing the Sick. 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery . 
 
 The Woman of Faith . 
 
 The Woman of Samaria . 
 
 The Nursing of Jupiter . 
 
 Ignatius Loyola . 
 
 Jupiter and Juno...... 
 
 Titian’s Uncle... 
 
 The Birth of Jupiter .. 
 
 A Ruin ... 
 
 Venus and Cupid .................. 
 
 The Battle of Forty .. 
 
 The Departure of Briseis .. 
 
 The Queen of Bohemia, daughter of \ 
 James I....... / 
 
 Landscapes .j... 
 
 Venus and Cupid. 
 
 Death and the Last Judgment . 
 
 Diana and Actseon ... 
 
 The Shepherd’s Offering. 
 
 The Expulsion of Heresy... 
 
 Heads of St. Peter and Judas. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 78 . 
 
 79 . 
 
 80. 
 8il 
 82 J 
 
 83- 
 
 84- 
 85) 
 
 t0 l 
 88 ' 
 
 89 . 
 
 90. 
 
 91 . 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96 . 
 97 - 
 98. 
 99 - 
 
 100 . 
 
 101 . 
 
 102 . 
 
 103. 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106 . 
 
 107. 
 
 108. 
 
 109 . 
 
 110 . 
 
 111 . 
 
 112 . 
 
 113. 
 
 114. 
 
 115. 
 
 116. 
 
 117. 
 
 118. 
 119 . 
 '20. 
 121 . 
 
 122i 
 
 123 J 
 
 124. 
 
 125. 
 
 126. 
 127- 
 128. 
 1291 
 130/ 
 
 Artemisia Gentileschi. 
 Titian. 
 
 Vandyck. 
 
 Velasquez. 
 
 F. Lauri. 
 
 G. Honthorst. 
 
 Brueughel and Ro- 
 thenhamer. 
 
 Teniers , aftei' P. Vero¬ 
 nese. 
 
 Young Palma. 
 
 V. Mato. 
 
 Schiuvone. 
 
 Guercino. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 P. Veronese. 
 
 Carlo Maratti. 
 
 Van Somer. 
 
 Polidoro. 
 
 Guido Cagnacci. 
 Bassano. 
 
 Hanneman. 
 
 Vander Heist. 
 Anonymous. 
 
 S. Ricci. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 Titian. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 Titian. 
 
 Giulio Romano. 
 Viviani. 
 
 Rubens , after Titian . 
 P. Snuyers. 
 Schiuvone. 
 
 G. Honthorst. 
 
 Swanevelt. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 M. Hemskerck. 
 Giorgione. 
 
 Palma. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 Lanfranco. 
 
950 
 
 051 
 
 952 
 
 953 
 
 954 
 
 955. 
 
 956. 
 
 957. 
 
 958. 
 
 959. 
 
 960. 
 
 961 
 
 962 
 
 963. 
 
 964. 
 
 965. 
 
 966 . 
 
 96/. 
 
 968 . 
 
 969. 
 
 970. 
 
 971. 
 
 972. 
 
 973 
 
 974. 
 
 975. 
 
 970' 
 
 977- 
 
 978. 
 
 979. 
 
 980 . 
 
 981 . 
 
 982 i 
 
 983: 
 
 984. 
 
 985. 
 
 986 . 
 
 987. 
 
 988 . 
 
 989. 
 
 980. 
 
 991. 
 
 992. 
 
 9931 
 
 994 J 
 
 9951 
 
 9961 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 The Battle of August, 1673, between 
 Sir E. Spragge and Admiral Van 
 
 Tromp . 
 
 The Hull of the Royal George, first 
 
 rate. 
 
 Sea Pieces (sketches in black and 
 
 white)..... 
 
 The Dock yard at Portsmouth. 
 
 The Commencement of the Battle of 
 
 Camperdown... 
 
 The Dock-yard at Sheerness. 
 
 An Action between a British ship and 
 
 a Dutch fleet. 
 
 Sir John Lawson.. 
 
 An Action between the English and 
 Dutch... 
 
 } 
 
 } 
 
 } 
 
 } 
 
 } 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 
 Marshall. 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 R. Paton. 
 
 J. T. Serres. 
 
 R. Paton. 
 Vandervelde. 
 Sir Peter Lely. 
 Vandervelde. 
 
 Two small Sea Pieces. 
 
 Swaine. 
 
 The Battle of Trafalgar. 
 
 The Day after the Battle of Trafalgar.. 
 The Close of the Battle of Trafalgar.. 
 An Action between the English and \ 
 
 Dutch./ 
 
 The Earl of Sandwich. 
 
 The British Fleet attacking the 
 
 French Fleet in a Harbour ./ 
 
 The Dock-yard at Chatham. 
 
 The Battle of Camperdown — the"i 
 
 Close of the Action./ 
 
 The Dock-yard at Woolwich . 
 
 Sea Piece—a Calm. 
 
 Huggins. 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 Dobson. 
 Vandervelde. 
 R. Paton. 
 
 J. T. Serres. 
 
 R. Paton. 
 Vandervelde. 
 
 The Hull of a Vessel 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 A Sea Engagement. 
 
 The Burning of the French ships'! 
 Soleil Royal, Admirable, and Con- I 
 querant, by fire-ships and boats, at f 
 
 La Hogue. J 
 
 The Burning of a Fleet in Harbour .. 
 
 The Burning of a Fleet. 
 
 The English Fleet attacking the*! 
 
 Dutch Fleet in a Harbour.J 
 
 The Burning of a Fleet. 
 
 Parcelles. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Vandervelde. 
 
 The Hull of the Barfleur, second rate.. 
 
 Marshall. 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 View of the Thames at Greenwich .... 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 View of the Thames at the Tower .... 
 
 Blaekwall. 
 
 View of the Thames at the Temple.... 
 
 A Sea Piece. 
 
 A Sea Piece . 
 
 A Sea Piece . 
 
 The Hull of the Experiment, fourth 
 
 rate.J 
 
 The Hull of the Royal Oak, third \ 
 rate.../ 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Elliott. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 J. T. Serres. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Elliott. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 J. T. Serres. 
 
 Marshall. 
 
LONGFORD CASTLE, 
 
 Ixi 
 
 
 Tit!e of Pietnr®. 
 
 Fainted by 
 
 195. 
 
 19S. 
 
 197. 
 
 198. 
 
 199. 
 
 200 . 
 201 . 
 
 202 . 
 
 203. 
 
 204. 
 
 205. 
 
 206 . 
 
 207 . 
 
 208. 
 
 Jacob, Son of Sir W. Bouverie .. 1706. 
 Sir Edward Bouverie, Knt....... 1688. 
 
 Sir Christopher, Son of Sir William \ 
 
 Bouverie...... _.......... 1706 .) 
 
 Ann Forfcerge, Wife of Sir Edward \ 
 Bouverie .................. 16O8. / 
 
 William, Son of Sir W. Bouverie 1705 , 
 Jane, Daughter of Sir W. Bouverie 5 7 © 7 . 
 Jacob des Bouveries, Son of Sir Ed- 'i 
 ward, first Proprietor of Folkestone J 
 Gabriel des Bouveries, Bishop of 1 
 Angers .............. ...... 1572 . J 
 
 Edward, Son of Sir W. Bouverie 1703 . 
 
 Lady Pleydell.. 3729. 
 
 Anne, Countess of Radnor..1786. 
 
 Honourable P. Pusey .. ........ 1777 - 
 
 William, Visct. Folkestone .......... 
 
 Honourable .Mrs, Grant 174 9 * 
 
 Kneller . 
 Anonymous. 
 Kneller. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 Kneller. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Kneller . 
 
 Dahl, 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 Kauffman. 
 
 Mad . Le Enin, 
 Hudson, 
 
BURLEIGH HOUSE, 
 
 Ixxi 
 
 Title of Picture. 
 
 Painted by 
 
 MARBLE HALL. 
 
 
 Frances, Wife of John, Fourth Earl ofi 
 
 Exeter . ) 
 
 Pluto, Orpheus, and Eurydice. 
 
 John, Sixth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 John, Fifth Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Anne, his Wife . 
 
 John, Sixth Earl of Exeter, Hon. Charles'! 
 Cecil, his brother, and Lady Elizabeth > 
 
 his Sister. j 
 
 John, Fifth Earl of Exeter; his brother Da -1 
 
 vid and his Sister Frances.J 
 
 William, Duke of Devonshire.. .. 
 
 William Cecil, Lord Ross of Holderness .... 
 Lady Elizabeth Chaplin (Sister of the Ninth 1 
 
 Earl of Exeter) ./ 
 
 Henry, First Marquess of Exeter. 
 
 A Duke of Tuscany, ;~bout (1600). 
 
 Sea-Piece (1795). 
 
 Child and Dolphin . 
 
 Flower Pieced . 
 
 Another. 
 
 Dr. Willis, Physician to Geo. III. (in crayons) 
 
 Mrs. Honchcorne (in crayons),. 
 
 Mademoiselle, de ia Valli^re . 
 
 Captain Pierrepoint . 
 
 G. B. Medina. 
 
 Genuari. 
 
 Wissing. 
 
 Anonymous , 
 
 D'Agar. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Lely. 
 
 Hudson. 
 
 Shee. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 W. Anderson . 
 
 Patoun. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Russel. 
 
 Anonymous . 
 
 Shee . 
 
 RED DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 Jupiter and Europa. 
 
 Marcus Curtius . 
 
 Catherine I. of Russia (a miniature). 
 
 Diana and Actieon. 
 
 Death of Seneca. 
 
 B. Gennari. 
 
 Luca Giordano. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 L. Giordano. 
 
 BLUE DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and St. John..... 
 
 Another... 
 
 Holy Family (a sketch).... 
 
 The Good Samaritan. 
 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 The Samaritan Woman. 
 
 Holy Family. 
 
 A Magdalen. 
 
 Rebecca at the Well. 
 
 Noli me tangere .. .. 
 
 Entombing our Saviour.. 
 
 Death of Joseph. 
 
 Virgin, Child, and St. Catherine. 
 
 Adoration of the Shepherds. 
 
 Virgin and Dead Christ....... 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine . 
 
 Sybil. 
 
 Adam and Eve lamenting over Abel. 
 
 C. Maratti . 
 
 L. Caracci.. 
 
 F. Fruncia. 
 Parmegiano. 
 
 Bassuno. 
 
 Titian. 
 
 Giulio Romano . 
 
 P. Ghirlandajo. 
 Farinelli. 
 
 A Caracci. 
 
 L. Maratti. 
 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 C. Cig’iani. 
 
 Palma Vecchio. 
 Cignani. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
 Schiuvone. 
 
 Guido. 
 
 C. Maratti. 
 
txxxii 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. Title of Pictnre. 
 
 CHAPEL. 
 
 183. (Altar Piece) Christ taken from the 
 
 Cross . 
 
 184. (In the Family Gallery) A painting on 
 
 Black Marble . 
 
 1S5. 
 
 186. 
 
 187. 
 
 188. 
 189 . 
 190. 
 
 191. 
 
 192. 
 
 193. 
 
 TITIAN ROOM. 
 
 I Mars and Venus.. 
 
 I Cupid and Psyche. 
 
 'Apollo and Daphne . 
 
 I Pluto and Proserpine. 
 
 Hercules and Deganira .. . 
 
 Vulcan and Ceres . 
 
 Bacchus and Ariadne. 
 
 Jupiter, Juno, and Io. 
 
 Neptune and Amphitrite . 
 
 Painted by 
 
 Jurdaens. 
 
 A. Veronese. 
 
 Titian.