Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/schizzoongeniusoOOhari S C H I Z Z O ON THE GENIUS of MAN. V ON THE ] GENIUS OF MAN: IN WHICH, AMONG VARIOUS SUBJECTS, THE MERIT OF MR. THOMAS BARKER, THE CELEBRATED YOUNG PAINTER OF BATH, IS PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED, AND HIS PICTURES REVIEWED. BY THE AUTHOR OF AN EXCURSION FROM PARIS TO FONTAINBLEAU for the Benefit of the Bath Casualty Hospital. .J T O WALTER LONG, esquire, OF SOUTH- WRAXALL, IN THE COUNTY OF WILTS- S I R, In addressing to you this trifling production, I make but an humble return to your libe- rality and politenefs. An author of the highest abi- lity could not possibly flatter himself VI DEDICATION. himself with the hope of afford- ing novelty of entertainment or instruction to a Gentleman who has long been in the habit of deriving both from the most valuable and recent treasures of the belles lettres. It is not, Sir, to pay the mere tribute of a compliment, that I dedicate to you; but to acknowledge the debt of grati- tude: — a mind liberal like yours may well forget what it be- stows. I beg leave to remind you DEDICATION. Vli you of the favour granted, in permitting me to take the di- version of shooting upon your manors. It was the handsome manner in which you indulged me in this my favourite amuse- ment, that particularly deserves my warmest thanks. I re- quested leave to go only upon your manor of Wraxall; but you, Sir, in your liberality, (as extensive as your manors) granted me the liberty of all. — It gives me pleasure to shew the world what a gentlemanly contrast Vlii DEDICATION. contrast there is in such con- duct to that of those who are niggards of their game, or grant permission so grudgingly, that the favour is painfully accepted, the obligation not worth the thanks. Thus the sense of gra- titude is impaired by the un- gracious mode of the grantor. Far different was your conduct from many, who imperioufly refuse gentlemen leave to shoot upon one manor: — you, Sir, with the manners of true breed- ing, permitted me to shoot upon thirteen!! DEDICATION. IX At the same time I gratify myself with making acknow- ledgement of this favour; I fear its public confession may be somewhat displeasing, and am aware that my reader may apply what the learned Plutarch mentions of a Sophist in his apophthegms ; who made a long and tedious oration in praise of Hercules, and expe£ling at the end great thanks and ap- plause from the hearers, a cer- tain Lacedaemonian demanded of him who had dispraised Her- cules ? X DEDICATION. cules? But methinks, Sir, the world cannot have too many- instances given of liberality, worth, and honour, for their imitation. I am, Sir, with great respe6t, Your much obliged, and most obedient humble servant, Edward Harington. Hdrington*Place i Beth, Jan. 1, 1793. PREFACE. IF this were my first offence I might hope for mercy ; and, like some poor culprit deteBed in his first commission of sin % might appeal to the tender feelings of my jury : but, alas ! 1 have no pretensions to such indulgence. I am not young-, and, having no fear of the public before mine eyes, am Jdst hardened in the wicked vice of scribbling: a keen and remorseless wilfulness seizes on my mind, and impels me to scribble ; then false am- bition, goaded by misleading vanity, urges me to the fatal crime of pri?iting! What Xil PREFACE. What apology can I make to you then, O gentle reader, and O unmerciful cri- tic! for printing this precious Schizzo, this olla podrida, this patched-up, ill- fitting garment, composed of odd old ends and patches, like a mantle of many co- lours bought of a fripier d'etoffe in the marche des guenilles in Paris? It will be in vain to attempt to impose upon you with the hacknied, but worst of all argu- ments, that of writing for amusement ! knowing that the Reviewers have justly observed to such re as oners, that what may be sport to them is deatli to cri- tics. Will you admit this apology? Be assured then, it was an humble endeavour to serve merit that alone induced PREFACE. Xlll induced me to print this very unequal work!! And that the purchaser of it may not think himself imposed upon, and call it a Cheatso, instead of a Schizzo, 1 have resolved, if any profit should arise from the sale of the book, to present it to the Casualty Hospital, a most use- ful charitable institution! 'Thus the pur- chasers will have the satisfaBion of encou- raging charity rather than scribbling. I fear my reader will find the com- mencement of this book a little too sermonic y formal^ and pompous ; but like a fabric begun by an ill-contriving architect, it must proceed upon its first principles, how irregular and erroneous soever they maybe, or Xiv PREFACE. or be totally demolished, to rebuild it upon a better construction. — But 1 had neither patience, inclination, nor ground, to new- model, or to rebuild this struBure. I was therefore constrained to let it stand or fall, without any attempt to alter my first grave ideas: which, however, pro- ceeded from no worse a motive than an ardent wish that certain men should think more nobly and generously of their own species -> and be convinced that they are endued with certain proportions of wis- dom and talent, not only for the purpose of cultivating arts and sciences, but for the greater purpose of causing them to refleft that they are to hold a still higher rank. It PREFACE. XV It was my intention to have pointed out the wonderful^ superior spirits of some men, which could only have been given by the inspiration of Heaven, for the common good of mankind, in order to encourage them by shewing, in a supernatural man- ner, how far humanity can be exalted above the scale of a mere animal states : but that I have most imperfeclly carried on these ideas, is no less clear to me, than it will be to my reader. I had neither the perseverance nor ability to get through so great a task, and have therefore left it in an unfinished state. I was first led to these thoughts, on rejie&ing how strangely men were prone to degrade their own species : What satisfaction they can Xvi PREFACE. can possibly find in so unpleasant a con- temptation, I cannot conceive, unless it be to shew their own acuteness and in- genuity not indeed with an accumula- tion of reason, but in lessening their reason. Such apparent pleasure has some men in the refection of their own degradation, that they have employed themselves in the agreeable task of wri~ ting whole volumes, straining their ideas, to prove that man, the baboon, monkey, pongo, jocko, and orang-outang, are all relatives to each other — distant cousins I Some of these ingenious gentlemen talk of islands full of hairy men, and men with long tails ; and one, more eccentric than the rest, most vehemently insists upon it, that PREFACE. XVii that man has no business to walk upright, that it is impertinent in him not to crawl upon all fours; which nature intended he should do, as well as to live upon roots, herbs, grass, &c. like the badger and the hedge-hog. It also much puzzles him to know, by what revolution of nature it was, that man came to lose his tail; which he has no doubt but the aborigines of mankind had the privilege of wearing. But in lieu of this folly and madness, is it not more rational, more our duty, and interest, to promote by every means in our power the exaltation of man, than to depress him into such ideas of debase^ ment \ to shew him every proof in our power ( and there are enough to convince him) b that XV111 PREFACE. that he is by nature of more worth and dignity , than to rank with brutes and that> as he is under the special protection of Providence, and designed for future happiness, it is his interest to dignify his nature in ways of virtue, truth, and honour ! ! ! Such were my ideas when I first de- signed making a short introduction to the principal subjedt of my book. At that time I had no intention of making it either so long or so digressive j but a writer, like a builder, seldom knows when to finish. — A little alteration here! a little improvement there! in process of time makes such enlargements in the fabric, as PREFACE. XIX Hi to be widely different from the plan he originally designed ; but the misfortune of this is, the building becomes, like my work, too much of confusion! I have so far departed from those seri- ous ideas, with which I commenced, that I am afraid, in some places, 1 have gone to the contrary extreme-, and shewn a something of levity, where I only meant to be merry. I confess myself incompe- tent to handle a grave subject long toge- ther, with sufficient force or conse- quence to occupy the whole attention of the reader. That should be admirably performed, or it drags dull and heavy. I therefore rather choose now and then b 2 to XX PREFACE. to introduce a comic interlude by way of variety,* which may not be displeasing to some readers^ who are not very fasti- dious. Thus my book becomes a sort of pasticcio, which sometimes amuses bet- ter than a more regular performance. It may be objeBed, that some of my notes are irrelevant , and that I transgress too much by digression of this, I am con- * No writers perhaps ever understood this art better than South, Sterne, and Whitfield; for on the gra- vest of all subjects they generally contrived to be facetious with good sense, and familiar with good language. If a something of this serio-comic style were adopted by more of our modern preachers , sleeping and yawning would not be so much the fashion at most of our Churches ! We rarely see sleeping at Methodists 1 Meetings, because their preachers damn their congregations with such a degree of eccentricity and friendly familiarity, that whilst some are roused through fear, others cannot help laughing at being damned with so much humourous conceit and pleasantry !! ! SClOUSy PREFACE, . XXI scions, and have only this apology to make f Gr it : — J had certain matter which I wished to introduce \ and knew of no other mode of effecting it.f I have therefore done what the late Oliver Goldsmith once said he had done, when he introduced a long story into a work totally foreign to the subject. He said he as to make himself appear not only innocent^ but a respe£table and useful mem- ber of society, as thus: — / take it the public are more obliged to bad authors than is generally suspected; instead of idle people canting about the press groaning under the weight of voluminous trash and nonsense, let them rather consider the poor nation groaning under the enor- mous weight of taxes, and if they have any feeling, they will groan for that, and then admire the glorious works of every author good or bad! But the latter PREFACE. XX111 latter is the author they should give more credit to 3 and contemplate with admiration his wonderful works ! for he is a genuine disinterested patriot; the former only a selfish interested fellow, who publishes his works with the full cer- tainty of being amply rewarded; while the other boldly and generously stakes his purse and reputation, both of which he is sure of losing. Ah, blessed martyr! and all for the good of his country! See what he loses , his reputed wisdom for the vile stain of folly ; his moderate purse for an empty one, and even less than empty praise : but on the other hand, hear how very valuable he is, and how much he gains in the estimation of thinking men XxiV PREFACE. men and lovers of their country. He cheerfully and largely contributes to the support and dignity of the state, by con- siderably augmenting the taxes on flax, linen, paper, advertisements, and stamp-duties ; in supporting the free- born Sons of the Press, the various printers, compositors, pressmen, de- vils, &c. nay, he does every thing that- benevolence can do, and all this with a certain prospecJ of losing every time he blots his paper. — T'he printers standing sentimental toast is, To the well-stain- ing of paper;* now the word well is to * The printers have also another standing sentiment, which does honour to their gratitude: — < Come, gentlemen, say they, here's a health to all our worthy authors. 1 Now they very properly make no distinction between good and bad PREFACE j XXV be considered here as meaning a vast quantity, and not at all in the sense of good writing; for how would all these fellows be maintained if booh were only printed that are monstrous sensible, monstrous ingenious, and monstrous learned. If they had no other works to depend upon but now and then such deli- cious literary morsels as the productions of a Burke, a a Hurd, b a Blair/ a Paley, d a Melmoth, e or a Graves ! f or among bad authors ; they a6l in the true spirit of tolerancy, and prefer the doctrine of universal redemption to the narrow principles of sectaries ! they well know 'tis more profitable to deal in quantity than in quality, and that a dashing intrepid scribbler, who writes " an infinite deal of nothing" is of more ■value to them than the Philo-laconical writer of (wise saws, problems, aphorifms, and apophthegms. * Sublime & Beautiful, &c. I d Principles of Philofophy k Dialogues of the Dead, &c. I • Fitzosborne's Letters, &c. e Sermons, &c. J f Spiritual Quixote, &c. c the XXVi PREFACE. the ladies, the elegant and lively writings of a Piozzi, g a Bowdler, h a More, 1 a Montague/ a Carter, 1 or a Lee, m &c. most of them would soon be in a starv- ing condition, from not having their pa- per well stained ! Scribblers therefore, besides being spirited people, are most exemplary Christians, from their libe- rally supporting so many thousand families of printers, booksellers, and bookbinders* A certain author observes, that there ne- ver was a book, however ill written, but something might be learned from it ; and another observes that there is scarcely any s Journey thro' France & It. h Essays and Poems 1 Manners of the Great, &c. k Eflay on Shakefpeare, &c. 1 Epicletus, &c m Chapter of Accidents, &c. author PREFACE. XXVU author who has not afforded either an aphorism or a motto. All books then tend to some beneficial purpose > if they have no unmoral tendency \ nor endeavour to incuU cate despotic y , slavish principle through the subtle ratification of highly adorned language^ misleading the sense of men through the flowery paths of eloquence \ — or, on the other hand, if they are not written with violent inflamed language, that will, like a tempestuous hurricane, subvert and destroy even the order of na- ture herself For we well know that one of her clearest laws is the arrange- ?nent of the different classes or states of all animals - y and man may as well attempt to alter the course of our heavenly system, as XXviii PREFACE. as to make mankind assimilate in one uni- form class. But to leave this high ques- tion, which has gone through all the mazes and twistings of philosophy, and of which, like polemical controversy, there is no end to the discussion ; 1 shall pro- ceed to shew a little farther of what use scribblers are to the community, and how much they ought to be commended-, for if they are not witty themselves, they cause wit in other men. T'his is true politeness! and very unlike those arrogant wits who engross all the good things to themselves. — Scribblers besides make a conspicuous and diverting figure in the wide fields of literature! like irregular troops they rush forth in hopes of gaining many PREFACE. XXIX many a laurel, but after a good deal of vapouring and flouncing, and a few un- successful skirmishes and manoeuvres, are at length taken prisoners by those well- disciplined trOOpS ^REGULAR CRITICS, who lead them, like the captive barbarians of old, to grace their haughty triumphs^ when they are let off like so many Indian crackers on a row ; the pops are just heard, a?td the little bouncers left empty for ever ! What would become of those great Leviathans in literature the Monthly and Critical Reviewers, &c. but for the jolly race of scribblers ! how would they be able to introduce that wit, humour, smart- ness, and satire, which they so constantly exhibit XXX PREFACE, exhibit in their monthly orbit, if they had nothing but good tilings to review? Without them, the entertainment of the Reviews would be much abated-, nothing left but gravity profound, and those learned observations which so eminently characterise our monthly performances. It is very curious and even amusing to behold the punishments of literary sinners recorded in the annals of criticism-, the various neat cut and thrusts they get, the heavy broad- sword wounds they re- ceive, and the singular manner of their numerous deaths, are truly interesting. I hope the amateur reader of such tragical tortures will not be accused of being as unfeeling PREFACE. XXxi unfeeling as the amateurs of boxing and executions! for certainly there are men of the most amiable dispositions , who are more delighted with the descriptions of the mortal wounds of the heroes of Ho- mer, or the description of the cruel death 0/^ Hercules, than with incidents abound- ing in more pleasing images^ though of less grandeur and sublimity . But terror \ instead of hardening the mind* lends the * Dr. Barnes, in his ingenious performance on the Plea" sure ivhicb the Mind in certain Cases receives from contem- plating scenes of Distress, has the following observation:— 4 To curiosity then, to sympathy, to mental exertion, to the idea of our own security, and to the strong feelings occasioned by viewing the actions and passion" of mankind in interest- ing situations, do we ascribe that gratification which the mind feels from the survey of many scenes of sorrow. We have called it a pleasure, but it will approach to, or recede from, pleasure, according to the nature and proportion of the ingredients of which the sensation is composed. In some cases pain will predominate, in others there will be exqui- site enjoyment.' « The XXxii PREFACE. softness of compassion, and raises it to a generous indignation at ac7s of cruelty: It inspires us with humane principles and sentiments in beholding the struggles and sufferings of virtue \ from an animated description, we almost behold it, and feel our ideas rising to the ardent wish of affording it succour. But to return to Scribblers. — Although they may be supposed to receive their lite- * The final cause of this constitution of the human mind is, probably, that, by means of this strong sensation, the soul may be prefcrved in continual and vigorous motion ; that its feelings may be kept lively and tender, that it may learn to practise the virtues it admires, and to assist those whom its sympathy can reach ; and that it may thus be led, by the social exercises of the heart, to soften with compassion, to expand with benevolence, and generously to assist in every case in which assistance can be given ; — an end this, sufficient i To assert eternal Providence, And juftify the ways of God to man/ PREFACE. XXX111 rary death-wounds from the Critics, (who certainly never punish without just cause*) yet the writer has no reason to complain , his work is not dead, but sleepeth; it may be compared to the grub race, in their chrysalis or nymph state; it again appears, after its supposed death, in various forms,^ more useful than the * This is undoubtedly true.— It is an old challenge of the Reviewers to defy any person to prove that a work con- demned by them had ever sufficient merit to be received well by the public. I knew a gentleman of considerable literature who had the curiosity to examine most of their volumes, in order to detect them ; but declared he could not find a single instance. A strong proof of their judgment, candour, and impartiality ! \ For many domestic purposes in all great houses and little houses throughout the kingdom;— such as, singing the rumps of poultry,— for preserving luscious lumps of fat from dissolving on the spit, — for patty-pans in pastry, — conserves in confectionary, — spells for lighting pipes, — shreds for lighting firesj — and lining to those noisy rascals he trunk- makers, &c. &c. d first XXXiv PREFACE. first state of existence was designed for, at length it appears in its per feci: or winged state.-f Perhaps even this Preface, as well as several parts of the contents of the book, may be called eccentrical by certain spi- rits, whose visages " Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who would say — I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.' 7 f If the reader will allow me to keep up the metaphor of the grub race, to complete what is called by naturalists its perfect or winged state, — I mean thereby an author's work when it soars aloft, even higher than the famed Par- nassian mount of old;— and all in the shape of a paper-kite! I depre- PREFACE. XXXV 1 deprecate then, my readers, that none become Sir Oracles with my poor book. As to the word eccentric, it is most into- lerably abused and misunderstood > a stupid fellow that has not an idea of his own once in a quarter of a year, utterly debarred by nature from understanding the least trait of humour y will call that eccentric which does not accord with his own dull sense. "There are also the solemn gentle- men, who will call that eccentric only because it becomes not their gravity and wisdom to laugh. c O, I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing : who, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, Which hearing them would call their brothers fools.' There XXXVI PREFACE. 'There are those again who do nothing but frown , " that hear merry tales and smile noty calling them eccentric ; these, I fear, will prove weeping philosophers when they grow old, being so full of un- mannerly sadness in their youth There are also crabbed fellows, who will exclaim in the words said to be JobV, t€ that mine adversary had written a book!"* Now I do not believe that Job said any such thing! it is not at all consistent with his character, which is represented as being remarkably patient : but here he is made to speak like an ill-natured and * The author is aware that Job means them in a very differ- ent sense ; he wishes that his accusers had formed a book or bill of indictment against him before God, that he might have an opportunity of exculpating himself ! malevole?it PREFACE. XXXVii malevolent cynic, who has the meanness to wish that his adversary would expose himself! Now if one of these crusty fellows, who bawl out the above unchari- table exclamation, , had an enemy who had written a bad book, / suppose be would laugh at him, and hold him up to ridicule, in hopes of mortifying the poor author f — a most impotent and vain attempt, for there never yet was an author, however bad, nay d~ d bad, that did not think his book a good book, a very good book ! ! A writer can always console himself by only heartily agreeing with the poet, when he says, " Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss." Thus xxxviii PREFACE. Thus an author has infinitely more rea- son to think well of his work, than a solitary critic has to think ill oj it I so unless a critic brings me ten good men and true, who are ready to swear that my book is not a very good book, I have no right in the world to believe him when he tells me that it is a hasty, crude, and incorrefl performance! " Authors are partial to their works 'tis true, " But are not critics to their judgment too?" There are some monstrous sensible, knowings good-tempered souls, who are very apt to remind an author that " A little learning is a dangerous thing ; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring : There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.' ' To PREFACE. XXXl'x c l To which I reply i that if a little learn- ing is dangerous >f I know not how fatal a great deal may be I for if a shallow draught of this powerful water does in- toxicate, the drinking largely of it, by way of sobering, may either cause down- right insanity or stupidity, j Is it not therefore much wiser to abstain entirely than to have any thing to do with a spring tt? terribly deleterious? and thus in time, a compleat equality may be in every re- speB established: to an equal division of honours and fortune may be added equal j* I am not ignorant in what sense Pope means those line$ to be taken; for Lord Bacon remarked long before him, that sometimes a little philosophy was sufficient to make a man a worthless infidel, when a great deal might make him a good Christian ! ! ! t Seriously speaking, it is not a very uncommon thing ! barrenness Xl PREFACE. barrenness of mind a?id learning! — » There are, lastly \ jealous and envious , who, for fear of allowing too much credit to another^ will cry out eccentric, and probably quote those hacknied lines which form a part of the character of Lord Shaftesbury in DrydeiVs Absalom and Achitophel, " Great Wits are sure to madness near allied, " And thin partitions do their bounds divide." And this probably at the very moment they are maliciously stifling the laugh it created. Now with all the benevolence and charity* / have for my fellow- * There may, however, be instances in which benevolence and charity, with all the good doctrine of Christian patience, cannot make humanity much in lo 4 A SCHIZZO ON THE them, as to make them appear almost angels in their mortal state; to have filled their minds with such an expanse of thought and wisdom, as the same glorious poet observes, that " in a fine frenzy rolling, " They glance from heaven to earth, from earth " to heaven." As men invest some of their species with worldly honours in preference to others, so has our Creator distin- guished these illustrious charafters by enriching them with natural talents as far superior to the genius of the bulk of mankind, as one star is supe- rior in glory to another. But although the generality of mankind are left un- distinguished by such excellence, we cannot but behold, with proud delight, that GENIUS OF MAN. 5 that the Almighty has thought any of our fellow-creatures worthy of being raised to the most glorious compre- hension ; to contend with nature, to seek nature and nature's laws in the most dark and hidden recesses, and to bring her forth illumined to the world. Such talents conjoined with virtue sink the gross and common nature of man, and raise him to the most exalted state of human perfec- tion. — They are, no doubt, rare and precious gifts to the happy individual on whom they are bestowed 5 but they do no less honour to the whole race of mankind, and should create our warmest veneration and love for Him, who so admirably inspires the mind of man, wrapt as it is, imprisoned and unseen > in the grossness of perishable B 3 matter. 6 A SCHIZZO ON THE matter. All men must think so, if they are not stupid enough to suppose they have no interest in the exaltation of the mind of man ; and that sense, genius, and talent, are given to him by chance, and for no other purpose, but to perish with him, as do the in- stin6live sagacity of brute animals ; but they use their reflexion to a very poor purpose who think so, for, when God honours human nature in bestowing more mind, talent, or genius, upon one man than upon another, it is an especial mark of grace and fa- vour he bestows on all the world !* 1 A famous antient painter, it is said, in fpeak- ing of the art of painting, observed, that he would have had the works of the best artists carried from one country to another, and could not endure that a pic-lure should not be capable of having more than one master, becaufe painting, he said, was a common good to all the world ! GENIUS OF MAN. 7 and is, no doubt, defigned by the wis- dom and goodness of providence, for the beneficial purpose of continuing to man those enlightenments and glo- rious prerogatives with which he has so eminently and distinguishedly en- dowed humanity. It may not be presumptuous to observe, that when human wisdom, is at its greatest perfection, (that is to say, as much as man has been known to at- tain, yet not so great as may come within the compass of his imagination) the human mind, notwithstanding its being confined within the walls of flesh and blood, may, however, be so refined with wisdom, as probably to be but little inferior to those spirits who dwell in an ever-existing state! and by whose A SCHIZZO ON THE whose divine original we are told, in sacred history, we are but a little lower than themselves ! ! ! But in admit- ting this, man should be brought to that state of perfection which old Hooker mentions: " Man, saithhe, doth seek cc a triple perfection firft, a sensual, u consisting in those things which " very life itself requireth, either as " necessary supplements or as orna- cc ments thereof ; then an intellectual, cc consisting in those things which " none underneath man is capable of; cc lastly, a spiritual and divine, con- " sisting in those things whereunto " we tend to supernatural means here, cc but cannot here attain." Now when we see one man pos- sessing the perfeftion of talent over the GENIUS OF MAN. 9 the million, his fellow-creatures ought not to arraign (which I have heard moft unworthily done) the justice and partiality of Providence in not endu- ing them with an equal portion, becaufe on reflection it appears, it is fo far from being necessary, that it would be absolute unhappiness and mifery to mankind, were the bulk of them to possess a greater portion than they now have ; much less for all human understanding to approach perfection,* which * The noble Philosopher whom I have just quo- ted, has in his works the following passage : c< It " seems to me, that in order to maintain the moral " system of the world at a certain point, far below " that of ideal perfection, (for we are made capable " of conceiving what we are incapable of attaining) " but however sufficient upon the whole, to con- " stitute a state easy and happy, or at the worst 44 tolerable s I say it seems to me, that the Author « of IO A SCHIZZO ON THE which is denied to the natural state of man ; but when we see one man in an age surpassing his fellow-creatures in intellectual " of Nature has thought fit to mingle from time " to time, among the socies of men, a few, and )ucd manus obsccenas depinxit prima tabellas, Et posuit casta turpia visa domo : Ilia puellarum ingenuos corrupit ocellos Nequiticeque sues noluit esse rudes. Ah ! gemat in terris ista qui protulit artes Jurgia sub tacita condita latitia. He concludes, that the only security is in purity of mind ; — that lost, no tie remains. Nihil invites tristis custodia prodesf, £)uam peccare pudet Cynthia tat and (like many others who affeft to be great critics and judges of painting) he is inadequate to the art of distin- guishing but few of the hands of the several masters ; and of this quality the same elegant writer I have just quoted thus observes : — " A third er- and " yet I will venture to affirm, that as when a Grecian cobler criticised upon a shoe in one of Apelles's pi&ures, he altered it accordingly ; but the cobler, proud of such deference being paid to his judgment, ventured to find fault with some other parts of his pifture upon which Apelles is said to have reproved him by a Greek proverb of the same purport with the Latin, cc Ne sutor ul- tra crepidamT — it is only in the semblance of words, with which truth and falsehood may GENIUS OF MAN. 51 may be equally adorned. The first connoisseurs in England, and some of other countries, have pronounced in their favour -> and the multitude, who are at last always found to judge rightly, testify his merit by bestowing upon his pi6lures the warmest appro- bation -> but the most unequivocal proof of their merit, is the large sums of money that have been given for them. It may be objected, perhaps, that many who have viewed them have ne- ver had an opportunity of seeing better > or so good. This may be true : — but I do aver, that also many men of taste and judgment, who have an intimate acquaintance with the works of the first masters, pronounce some of E 2 them 52 A SCHIZZO ON THE them to be equal to their best pro- ductions.* Tell me, ye conceited artists and sour critics, what can be the reason of this partiality ? Is it through the blindness of false taste, or a total inca- pacity of the million to judge what is right or what is wrong, in those who pronounce them good ? Is it that they are deceived by appearances > mistaking deformity * The late Copleston Warre Bampfylde, esq; of Hestercomb, who painted and designed very finely himself, and was universally allowed to possess infi- nite taste and judgment in the art, said to a friend of his, pointing to one of Barker's landscapes, " that " picture has in it every merit that the best of Claude " Lorraine's can boast," nay, I believe, he said, tc Claude never painted a better picture." Were I not convinced Mr. Bampfylde said as much of him, I should scorn to insert the expressions of one who now cannot contradict them. GENIUS OF MAN. 53 deformity for beauty, and beauty for deformity ? no, it cannot be ; for na- ture, which constitutes beauty, is ever corre&, unless distorted by violence or accident ; and the man who cannot or does not distinguish it, must have lost or confounded his sight, or be inap- prehensive to the strangest degree. On the contrary, they who observe nature most accurately, are the best judges of what constitutes real beauty; therefore, although a person, or even several persons, cannot judge or dis- tinguish beauty from deformity in na- ture and in the imitative arts ; yet the multitude do, and always will, and their opinion must ultimately fix us, even according to the trite and vul- gar saying of tc What every body says must be true" E 3 Is 54 A SCHIZZO ON THE Is it then, ye artists and would-be critics, that our young wonder prac- tises deception, to make his piftures appear excellent, when they have only mediocrity f How is it possible, some of you have said, for a self-taught boy, even with the most admirable genius ever produced in this country, to merit such applause at so early an age ! ! ! In order to answer the first ques- tion, I shall take leave to quote a good old observer of human nature, who says, that " all men by a kind of ta- " cit feeling, without art or science, " distinguish what is right from what tc is wrong, as they evidently do in " painting and sculpture." So says Cicero. As GENIUS OF MAN. As to the second query, I think it will be admitted that it would be ridi- culous to call that deception, which the eyes of all men, upon the closest examination, agree to be natural and beautiful : If deception, it must be no- thing less than of a supernatural and miraculous nature, which gives a false glare to the human sight, and imposes upon the imagination and ideas of all men ; but would it not be absurd to suppose they see through any other medium than that of truth and impar- tiality, as they would view the pictures of an Angelo, a Raphael, a Correggio, or a Rubens, &c. ? Instead of the absurd stupidity in supposing it deception* like a jugler's hackneyed trick, decei- ving the eyes of ignorance by the slight of an avowed stratagem ; I should ra- ther 56 A SCHIZZO ON THE ther term his a miraculous early con- ception of painting, ripened into ma- turity ; and this without the force of artificial means, but springing spon- taneously from a rich and copious mind, which kind nature has bestowed upon him. Envy only will deny that he has finished better piftures at the age of eighteen, than some modern eminent masters, after a laborious course of years intensely studying their profession. But let it not be sup- posed that he has not studiously applied himself to the profession of painting; the truth is, he has most diligently studied the art by every means in his power , for these eight years past. Al- though I hold envy to be a despicable vice, yet, in such a case, I really pity the envious 5 it must be most mortify- ing GENIUS OF MAN. CJ ing to artists, who have had their ge- nius and reputation acknowledged, to behold a young, untaught, presump- tuous, and " unrespeftive boy," come springing into full blossom, or rather loaded with ripened fruits, among those who have tediously, painfully, and me- chanically passed so many springs and summers to gather their hard-earned fruits, to keep them in the winter of their lives! — But why envy ? It was a Grecian proverb, cc That it was not given to all to go to Corinth." So to paint well is given but to few. It is surprising to what lengths the distraction of envy will carry men; it is said that when Giorgione, the famous Venetian painter, and the master of the great Titian, was painting the front of 5» A SCHIZZO ON THE of the Fondaco del Tedeschi, or German warehouse, upon the grand canal near the Rialto at Venice, that part in the painting which regarded drapery was given to Titian, who was not quite twenty years of age ; in which he painted Judith so admirably, both for design and colouring, that on its be- ing opened to public view, and gene- rally thought to be the work of Gior- gione, all his friends congratulated him upon it, as far the best thing he ever had done but he replied with infinite regret, (but at the same time, I think, with much candour) that it was the work of a disciple, who had already shewed himself greater than his mas- ter ; and what is more, he stayed at home for many weeks, weeping and raving like a madman, that such a youth GENIUS OF MAN. 59 youth should excel him. He after- wards, however, consoled himself with saying, that Titian was a painter in his mother's womb : This may be thought extravagant, but certain it is, that nature can only make good painters,* This * There is a certain negation of nature in some men, and all the pains, labour, and study of a long life would never make them painters ; a remark- able instance of this I knew in an old painter, who painted landscapes in this city upwards of seventy years, who was so far below mediocrity, that if he ventured to climb the steep ladder of ambition more than one step, he was sure of getting a fall ; not like the fall of a great man, but like one who is ever in the practice of stumbling. The composi- tion of this man's pictures was usually a miserable building, which he called a temple, with wretchedly proportioned columns, a man and woman ascend- ing a flight of steps, some misshapen naked trees, and in the back ground appeared something more like a clot of earth thrown up by pismires, than * a mountain's top tipp'd with the golden rays of a " mid -day 60 A SCHIZZO ON THE This is the opinion of one of the best writers upon painting Italy ever produced, contemporary with M. An- gelo, u mid-day sun a turn-spit dog, or a King Wil- liam's pug, lifting one of his hind legs against a tree, ( which he ufually introduced ) finished his land- scape ! The tout en semble of which he would often most exultingly observe, was a beautiful imitation of Claude Lorrain, or lovely smiling nature ex- ceeded by the master-strokes of art ! A gentleman once asked him, what the man and woman who were ascending the steps of the temple were sup- posed to be going to do ? " O, why Sir," said the painter, " that's a very fine thought of mine ! " but gue SS) 2l little now, who they are : two notori- " ously famous people, I promise you !" ' 'Tis im- ' possible, Mr. Allen, to fathom the depth of your c line imagination ! ' " Why yes, that's true, very " true indeed, 'tis difficult to comprehend a fine he to whom Carlo Maratti the « i- ... ■ ' " donna Laura !" — c Indeed, Mr. Allen ! but what c are they going to do, did you say, sir ?' — " Oh, " they are going up into the temple to — " c O ! what c to pray a little ?' " No, sir, no such thing : but " you are in such a hurry ! they are going then " into the Temple of Apollo, to invite Saturn and " the nineteen Muses, with Bacchus and the thirteen <£ Graces,' 1 c What, to dinner or supper, Mr. 'Allen?' — "Now was ever such a ridiculous " question ! no, no, they are going upon quite a " different business ; to invite their assistance to " write love sonnets." — c Then I say, Mr. Allen, c they might as well invite them (as you call it) to c eat apple dumplings ; but I suppose you mean to c invoke the assistance of those deities whom you ' have so considerably augmented, to give them * genius !' " Aye, aye, to invoke, or invite, or " provoke, 'tis all one, all the same thing ; but that " is what they are going to do ! why what the de- u vil did you think they were going to do ? " * Why i then really, to be very free, sir, without mean- 62 A SCHIZZO ON THE the great painter paid the following just compliment, when asked by some of his friends how he obtained that perspi- c ing to be rude, / hate to be rude, I must say I c thought they were designed for two indecent peo- c pie that were going to sacrifice together in the c temple of the murkey Deity : — I beg your pardon c for having such a thought, for I bate being rude! 9 yet to all these high qualifi- place from care, anxiety, and misery ! where the vile slanderer shall no longer have power to calumniate ! Ariosto says, Poets and painters few we justly name, For few their honours can with justice claim." The ingenious Watelet thus expres- ses himself: " The expression of the " passions in painting is intimately " connefled with sensibility of soul, cc fidelity of organs, enthusiasm, and cc precision of judgment." Another author, whose name I am unacquainted with, says, f c It must be the result of a " great number of qualifications, given " by nature i and improved by study possessing a strong genius, and who has applied it so as to attain perfe6lion in some favourite study, might, with the same genius and application, have attained as much ex- cellence in any other branch of art or science. The question has been gravely asked, whether Michael Angelo would not have made an excellent judge or a Lord Chancellor, if he had studied the law? or the divine Raphael* a great * Had Raphael lived, it certainly was the in- tention of Leo the Xth to have made him a car- dinal : GENIUS OF MAN. 117 great minister, had he been bred a statesman; or Julio Romano and Titian, fine poets, if they had turned dinal ; and this was the reason why he refused the honour of marrying Cardinal Bibiano's niece» Angelo was a poet, and wrote sonnets, but it was his superior genius in painting that procured him fame and money, Julio Romano might have made a poet; he had more imagination, invention, and enthusiasm in his pictures than any other painter. A writer says of him, " It seems, by " his works, that his thoughts were wholly taken " up with the grandeur of his poetical ideas ; and " that, to execute them with the same fire that he " conceived them, he contented himself with the " practice of design which he had chosen, without " varying the airs of his heads or his draperies." Yet we never heard that Julio ever wrote a line of poetry ; and I do not see why, because the painter introduces beautiful action, which may express fine language, (as " every thing speaks in a fine picture") that it is to be supposed he could equally clothe his ideas in verse. The painter may convey strong ex- pression of language into his pictures, yet be un- able to express it well either in speech or writing ; his conception may be just, without the gift of language. 1 3 their I 1 8 A SCHIZZO ON THE their genius to poetry; or Correg- gio, a great general, had he studied taftics? How, indeed, do we know they might not, if by magic they could at will turn, bend> warp> and even change their genius and inclinations whenever they pleased? We only know they were very excellent painters, and that their bent of mind and genius led them properly and naturally to that for which they seemed most in- clined; and, it is most probable, they would not have been great in any other line. Now, by the same whimsical mode of reasoning, or idle argument L , it may be said, that Handel was a renowned musician, but that if he had been bred to arms, he would very probably have GENIUS OF MAN. I 1 9 have made a second 'Julius Ccesar-, or, that is a great orator, and an able statesman ; but had he applied his genius to music, he would have been a greater musician than Handel ! — a second Apollo! Now, suppose they had changed their studies, is it probable the one would have become an able general, or the other a divine musician? No, Handel was fearful, impatient, luxurious, and inactive-, and « — — , without an ear to dis- tinguish one note from another, or having a spark of harmony in his soul; but what absurdity might not be made of this idea, were it to be pursued still farther, to deteft its shallowness and fallacy; to suppose that, because na- ture has given various propensities to the genius of man, which incline them 120 A SCHIZZO ON" THE them to different pursuits, that he can, like the magic of Fortunatus's cap, change it at will for a genius as op- posite as the poles are to each other, is more than absurd; it is altogether an arraignment of the wisdom of Pro- vidence, which has given unto one man one talent ^ and to another, an- other. This giveth noble proportions of heavenly fire; but deigneth not to give every spark, I think Mr. Pope has something like the following lines, but quoting from memory they may not be quite exaft: iC One science only will one genius fit, " So vast is art, so narrow human wit; " Not only bounded by peculiar arts, " But oft in those confin'd to single parts." I must GENIUS OF MAN. 121 I must quote, in the same way, Roger Bacon, who says to this amount, that GENIUS OF MAN. 1 1$ Monmouth; his father was a japan painter of the Pontypool manufaftory. Young Barker, like both Titian and Raphael, shewed a remarkable early genius for drawing figures and designing landscapes ; nature had truly made him a painter, for, without any instru&ion, he painted well as soon as he attempted it. The employment of painter and de- signer to this manufa6lory not answer- ing to young Barker's father, he re- moved himself and family to Bath, and there followed his profession in paint- ing the figures of horses, dogs, &c.; some of which were executed decently well. Barker's father was not one of those dull, sober, steady mortals, that would sit down and be content to reap with 124 A SCHIZZO ON THE with industrious toil his moderate gains, but he must tempt fate again in some other place. He, therefore, resolved to remove from Bath with his family to some distant abode. Young Barker was now turned of thirteen; it was just at this critical period that accident brought him acquainted with Mr. Charles Spackman, a very re- speftable master coach-maker, of Bath-, who, perceiving evident marks of un- common genius in the designs of his sketches, resolved to take him un- der his prote£tion. This was most fortunate for the poor boy, who, from his father's inattention to business, was ill clothed, and worse fed. Mr. Spackman finding the boy to be of an amiable disposition, took him into his family, and treated him like one of his GENIUS OF MAN. 125 his children, shewing him every pos- sible attention and encouragement for upwards of eight years. It appears more than probable^ that if chance had not thrown him into the way of Mr. Spackman, his ge- nius would not have been brought forth with any thing like the degree of cultivation with which it now appears to be so brightly illumined. His ge- nius must consequently have been damped, if not in time destroyed, by a continual attention which he must have given to mean subje&s, in order to support the common weal of his family. Mr. Spackman most gene- rously allowed a weekly sum to the father, in lieu of the very uncertain pittance his young son might possibly earn 126 A SCHIZZO ON THE earn in painting the shape of a horse or a dog, to be sold dog cheap, to grace the bar of an ale-house, or the parlour of some humble rural sportsman. Thus, I say, a genius which now does so much honour to our isle might have lain dormant, or have been crampt, instead of shining with such an irresistible force of splendid glory in which it now appears. The first four years he was with Mr. Spackman, he most diligently ap- plied himself to drawing, and copying the works of the principal landscape- painters of the Italian and Flemish schools, many of which are so ad- mirably finished, both in the drawing and colouring, as to deceive very able connoisseurs. GENIUS OF MAN. llj connoisseurs. From this time he threw aside the servile trammels of the copyist, and launched forth in the more noble and animated line of painting landscapes and figures from nature; in which he certainly has succeeded equal to any painter who has ever attempted the rural scenes of English nature. The same unbounded genius has at- tended him in many portraits and his- torical subjects. When this extraordinary young man had finished many pi&ures, and those pronounced by several good judges to be mature enough to be shewn as a publick exhibition of the young mans genius, Mr. Spackman built an ex- hibition room to receive his piftures, and opened it for publick inspection in A SCHIZZO ON THE in the spring of 1790. How far the publick have been satisfied will appear by the general surprize and pleasure expressed in all companies, and the high encomiums passed by the first connoisseurs. The writer of this has often visited Mr. Spackman's collection, from mo- tives not only of pleasure and admira- tion, (which is the source of joy) but to see if he could dete6l any errors in his judgment, which a first impression so frequently makes upon the mind $ for enthusiastic commendations, with- out great merit, can never avail with the judicious. I am well aware of the truth of what a certain author observes, the con- noisseurs, and the artists. A groupe of the latter would sometimes come and sit down before it, and make their remarks: — one would say something against the fore-shortening,; another of the contour ; another of the clair obscure-, another of the tints, colour- ing, or the general effect, &c. &c. when one, more candidly sapient than the rest, would indignantly get up, and swear by his Maker, c that all of c them 140 A SCHIZZO ON THE c them together could not paint so < fine a pi6hire/ The subjeft is taken from Cowpers poem of thtTask, the lines descriptive of the subjeft are these : " Forth goes the Woodman, leaving unconcern'd The cheerful haunts of man : to wield the axe. And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear, From morn to eve his solitary task. Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears And tail cropp'c, half lurcher and half cur, His dog attends him. Close behind his heel Now creeps he slow; and now with many a frisk Wide scampering, snatches up the drifting snow With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his snout, Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy: Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl Moves right towards the mark, nor stops for aught : But now and then with pressure of his thumb T' adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube That fumes beneath his nose. The trailing cloud Streams far behind him, scenting all the air." Barker GENIUS OF MAM. I4I Barker has handled this subject with uncommon felicity; if the poet is animated in description, the painter is much more so in the execution; he has preserved the spirit of the scene, which the glow of nature only could have given in her happiest moments. The nude appears like living flesh, the drapery like the patched garment of many a coloured cloth, the steel of his hatchet as if it had been newly ground at the village grinding-stone, and his pipe of tobacco like new- kindled fire with the curling smoke ascending from the brittle tube ! The visage of this Woodman is wonderfully expressive of his laborious occupation, rough and weather-beaten; he seems to be about sixty years of age, and, like the scene around him, appears to carrv I4 2 A SCHIZZO ON THE carry it like cc a lusty winter, frosty but " kindly" There is yet a gentleness and benevolence beaming through his manly countenance, unconscious of ill, contented in want, forced tempe- rance and strong labour mark his sinewy muscles and ruddy counte- nance.* His * The features of this portrait are justly ex- pressive of the nature and mind of the original it is taken from. I know the man; his name is George Kelson, a woodman! — Good old Mr. Graves, the excellent and philanthropick author of the Spiritual ^uixcte^ told me, he had known him forty years, having lived many years in his parish: — he said he had scarcely ever seen him without a bill-hook or hatchet in his hand ! he knew him to be sober, honest, industrious, sensi- ble, and inoffensive ; a rara avis among the lower sort of people, for he believed he had never spent a shilling in a publick-house in his whole life ! — Before I saw the above-described portrait, I had never GENIUS OF MAN, I43 His faithful dog frisking by his side seems ready starting from the canvas. The fore ground is deeply never seen this poor man ; — but soon after, taking a country walk in the neighbourhood of Bath, I perceived an old man mending a hedge in an ad- joining field; the features of his face, from the likeness I had seen, instantly struck me that it could be no other personage than Barker's Woodman] " Pray, my good man," said I, " your "name is George Kelson, is it not?" c It c is, Sir/ " I think your picture is painted by " Mr. Barker." The old man, before he re- plied one word, instantly wedged his bill -hook into the stump of an old quickset, and then advanced towards me. I have no doubt but his good sense, and the benevolence of his mind, prompted him to aft thus naturally polite. A gal- lant soldier in the active duty of his profession could not have been more polite, had he thrown aside his musket or his two-edged sword, when addressed by an unarmed person. He came to- wards me with a steps low, but firm,— and with his hat in one hand, and the other across his breast, he made his humbie reverence. * I beg your par- 4 don, Sir, said he; but I could not hear you at c that 144 A SCHIZZO ON THE covered with flakes of snow; in the back appears a forest, the trees of which seem thickly hung with parti- cles c that distance; what did you say, Sir, an' please c you?' He was too much the ?nan y too proud of his industrious independence, and too little hack- nied in the scoundrel arts of hypocrisy and servi- lity, to deign to say Tour honour ! I have heard since, that he knows so much of the world, has such an inflexible regard for truth r that he will not run the risk of telling a lie to his superiors, for fear of a flattering misnomer ; so he said, c What did you say, an' please you, Sir?" " My good man, I only asked you if you had not " your picture taken by young Mr. Barker !" — Now had his shame been extravagance, or va- nity his motive, he could not in its detection have shewn more modesty: — he blushed! — as when a winter's evening sun darts forth his ruddy beams, reflecting his soon-expiring light upon some venerable oak, his modest face reflected light; and, like that season when sudden storms succeed the momentary sunshine, he drained his humble eyes full charged with their liquid sorrows ! by the trident GENIUS OF MAN". I45 particles of ice and snow. — In short the tout ensemble of this pifture is wor- thy his great genius, and would have L done trident god, and his briny nymphs chasing their foaming coursers through the raging seas, old Kelson shed the hriney tear! When the pro- priety of his tears were over, ere he could com- mence his simple tale, the scarlet hue suffused his cheeks again. c Alas, Sir, said he, that my poor * old frame was painted is true ; and why it was I c cannot well explain ! They told me 'twas no ' sin ! only after the fashion of representing nature ! c but indeed, Sir, 'twas only to record the fashion c of an old man's nature struggling to support it. * with half-extinguished strength. I know not c what good fashion there is, Sir, for a poor man c to be so dijtinguisbed!' " There is no harm, but " much good in it, my friend ; it is recorded that " honesty lived in a cottage, and worked conrent- " edly for a little ! Thy virtue blazes but the " stronger, and the longer it shines bere y the " nearer it is to live for ever ! Virtue in poverty " is far more distinguished, and will be more emi- M nently rewarded, than even the virtue of the " rich' I46 A SCHIZZO ON THE done honour to any painter, ancient or modern. Yet his all-soaring, eagle- winged ambition was not content; he lamented 44 rich ! I would infinitely rather be as thou 44 art, than to be possessor of a great purse 44 and a little soul! ! ! Thou art a proper subject " for a picture; thou can'st be no more out of " fashion, than nature's modest self" 4 God bless 4 you, Sir, replied he cheerly, you give me com- c fort ! and I will tell you, an 9 please you, Sir, a 4 little about it. — They came to fetch me from the 4 woods on a wintry day, just as I had felled the stiff- 4 est beechen tree in yonder woodlands : I was just c wiping the sweat from my brows, and wishing ' for a little refreshment, when three gentlemen 4 came up to me, and without any other greeting 4 said, My old friend, we must take your piflure ! 4 Now the Lord help me, if I did not take it into 4 my silly head that they were gentlemen robbers ! 4 I had heard people call money the King's pidlure, 4 and thought they meant that pifture ! Sol said, 4 Why you would not sure take what a poor old 4 man has got ? Yes, they said, they would take 4 me ! G od forgive me for being such an old fool ? 4 but GENIUS OF MAN. I47 lamented he had not given a certain smooth finishing to the face, which he had done to the features of another L 2 subjefh * but at that moment I took them for three crhnp- c men^ that I had formerly heard went about the * country to take folks away, — put 'em aboard a 4 ship, and carry 'em beyond seas ! Oddsnitterkins, c said I, (for I wer'n't afeard) then I'll defend my i life; so with my hatchet (which was as good a c one as ever cut a piece of timber) I put myself ' in a defenceful posture, thus ! just so I with my * left leg forward, my knee a little bent, my right i leg well straight behind, with my hatchet upheld 4 with both hands — so, a little inclining over my right c shoulder ! Thus I stood unshaken as the body * of a tough old tree, when wintry blasts assail its ' lofty branches, and make the resounding forest 4 groan with crackling limbs ! The gentlemen, c alarmed and terrified with my manner, cried out, " Good God ! my friend, you are much mistaken ; " we don't intend to hurt you ; we only mean to " take your picture!" Oddsnitterkins figo, then, ' replied I, (God forgive me for swearing!) you c shall as soon take my life as my property: I have 'but I4S A SCHIZZO ON THE subjeft. Here he was wrong; the fea- tures of the latter being much too round, smooth, and delicate for the former c but one half-crown, and that, by the blessing of c God, as I've work'd for't hard, I will preserve ! c so keep your distance ! The gentlemen, much c astonished, thought me mad ! and were going to c leave the wood, when one of them turned round, c and said, " My friend, I believe you are much K mistaken in us ; we come to you with no other " intention but to do you a service i one of these " gentlemen is a painter, and only wishes to paint " you, — to take you off a little upon canvas ; that's " all." c O, to be of service to me, is it ? said I. — c Odds hedging-gloves and kitty-bands ! a pretty c odd way that is, indeed, of being serviceable to a c poor old man, to first daub him over with paint, c and then to take him off upon a piece of canvas ! — c No, no, George Kelson knows a trick worth c two of that, than to be carried about the country 1 to be made a may-game of upon apiece of canvas! ! c The gentlemen laughed heartily at my simplicity, ( as they called it, and explained to me their inten- 4 tions and motives. I was soon convinced of my ignorance, GENIUS OF MAN. I49 former subjeft; like the pi&ure of The- seus painted by Euphranor and Parrha- sius, one looked as if he had fed on flesh * the ' ignorance, and humbly begging their pardons for ' taking them to be rogues, I at last consented. But € although Mr. Spackman has been greatly good, c in presenting me with a sum of money for my at- c tendance, giving me a hot dinner every Sunday since, c (and has been so benevolent as to promise me it c shall be continued during my life) and a piece of * silver when I leave his hospitable house, yet my c conscience accuses me of having broken the second c commandment? " How so, my friend?" c Why, * Sir, in committing the sin of dolatry f My old < woman, the clerk of the parish, the old far- i mer of the village, and all of 'em, do say as how ' 'twas dolatrous ! The very children of the c parish, when they now see me, call out, There c goes dolatrous George /' " Why don't you in- " form the parson of your parish of all this non- " sense?" < So I would, Sir, but the clerk says as 1 how the curate told him the devil would paint c my picture, one of these days, with fire andbrbn- L stone!' " No no, said I, honest George, your " parson 150 A SCHIZZO ON THE the other as if he had fed on roses. — Y et Barker does not commit the fault of which the celebrated Prolcgones, the Grecian " parson is too wise a man to believe that gentleman " paints in any such colours : his back-grounds " may, perhaps, consist a good deal in dark shades, " but depend upon it he never uses such bright " colouring as fire and brimstone, though there have " been many ingenious gentlemen who have painted u for him in those lively colours, which would iC almost tempt an innocent person to believe they " had taken anexadr. survey of his royal residence V c Then, Sir, you don't think I was dolatrousf " No, no, my friend ! for although you have caused " many to idolize your picture, yet you are guilty kC of no sin in sitting for it ! Do you know for how c ' much your picture lias sold?" c No, Sir, but c may-hap for a matter of thirty or forty shillings ! * " Five Hundred Guineas ! ! !" < Odds bill- ' hooks and hatchets ! five hundred guineas ! — Oh, c Lord, master ! why what would the squire, or £ the curate of our parish, have come to then, if c the picture of poor old George Kelson would * fetch five hundred guineas P u Very far from " much? GENIUS OF MAN, I5I Grecian painter, is accused: — never knowing when to leave off finishing a picture! Certain however it is, a good picture 6C much, my old friend ! Scenes from rustick nature " will ever be held in higher estimation than the " drest-up trumpery of human pride. When art " condescends to imitate the shape of some useless^ " insignificant^ worthless beings though dressed up " in all the gaudy trappings of caprice, it will ever " be despised." I gave the old fellow a piece of money, and walked aw ay, thinking of the following reflection of Mr. Burke's, when he condemns the French nation for lessening the incomes of their archbishops and bishops : — " The English nation, " says he, will not grudge an archbishop or bishop quoy quil soit aise de juger y cc d'ailleurs quil les amoit passionement" Pliny, who tells this story, says he saw this piece of canvas before it was consumed in the fire that burned down the Emperor's palace 3 that there was nothing upon it but some lines which could scarcely be distinguished; and yet this fragment was more valued than any of the pictures among which it was placed. It is nonsense to think that the victory in the trial of skill between these painters, depended only on the one striking a line more delicately than the other: if Pliny meant it, as those construe him, he knew little of the fine arts, though one may easily perceive elsewhere that he was a great admirer of them. One GENIUS OF MAN. 1 65 One of Barker's best portraits is of Mr. Blisset, a celebrated come- dian, in the character of Fahtaff, from Shakspeares first part of King Henry IVth, aft 4th, scene 2d : Fee- ble s, and Bullcalf's, " whom he pricked " 'till they roared again." But it is wonderful how well he has preserved the similitude of the performer in the chara&er, amid the grossness of the features, with his white thick beard disguised with a ruff; he has blended the comic archness of Falstaff with the truest likeness of Blisset. He has managed the drapery with singular propriety. The dress of those times, in the reign of our Edwards and Henries, was of a strange fantastical cut, GENIUS OF MAN. *6y cut, gawdy and expensive, composed of many colours, and often adorned with rich lace; all of which he has disposed and coloured with great judg- ment. He has painted a most excellent pic- ture of Travelling Gipsies : — an old woman riding on an ass with a pair of panniers, and a child in one of them, all as large as life, taken from nature; and to express how unmercifully the poor animal is constantly overloaded, the ass seems tottering under his bur- then, his head is lowered, his ears bent, and his lips drawn back. Barker ap- pears to have a thorough knowledge of the disposition of this useful crea- ture, for these are sure indications of his being much abused. In the back ground 1 68 A SCHIZZO ON THE ground is seen a troop of those ragged vagabonds; they are supposed travel- ling along the side of a wood; the figure of the old woman is inimitable, her drapery being an old dirty blanket thrown over her wretched carcass, which is pretty well adorned with un- darned rents-, her dirty grey locks ap- pear hanging from beneath a night- cap that once was white, enbandonied with a ribbon that once was blue; the old haggard is hugely ugly, and salt rheum fast flows from her dim red eyes. I believe tobacco, during its operation, has the quality of giving a temporary content to the mind, per- haps in a degree like laudanum, giving as it were a cockering up to nature, a gently pleasing intoxicating effeft. Barker appears to have known this; for GENIUS OF MAN. 169 for his old woman, with all her ap- parent wretchedness, seems, with her pipe of Virginia, not only in a state of content, but even a cast of cheer- fulness is beaming from a face full of rugged wrinkles, I have heard this pi6lure spoken highly of by many connoisseurs. Nature only can ex- ceed it! I have in the foregoing pages given a pretty long description of his famous Woodman, bought by Mr. Macklin. I am now happy to have it in my power to say, that its great merit is still farther confirmed to me by the very warm commendation of Mr. Bowles, of Northaston in Oxford- shire, a gentleman of well-known merit in every respect 5 his designs, taste. I70 A SCHIZZO ON THE taste, and skill in painting, are uni- versally acknowledged. But there is another pifture of Rus- tic Life, which deserves particular no- tice, and which is little if any thing inferior to any pifture Barker ever painted: the figures are as large as life, and taken from Smart's poems, which is a description of labour and health. Strong labour got up with his pipe in his mouth, And stoutly strode over the dale ; He lent new perfumes to the breath of the south, On his back hung his wallet and flail \ Behind him came health from her cottage of thatch, Where never physician had lifted the latch. The scene is the Morning, just after sun-rise in the summer season; the labourer appears to be about fifty, of a strong muscular habit, a fine open cheerful GENIUS OF MAN. iyi cheerful countenance, in the afition of walking o'er a dale, with his wallet and flail flung over his right shoulder, and a wooden flagon of liquor slung upon the other shoulder. What is particularly remarkable in this por- trait is, that although the lines and muscles of the face are strongly cast, and expressive of his charafter and occupation, yet he has handled his pencil and colours with so much deli- cacy, that the lineaments of the visage will bear the closest inspection: he has been most happy in the execu- tion, and must have bestowed upon it unusual attention. I have heard that hewas more satisfied with this facethan with any he ever painted 5 but I should give the preference to the face of Health described in the poetry, — a beautiful blooming 1/2 A SCHIZZO ON THE blooming young girl in the action of tripping lightly o'er the dale, with a pitcher in one hand, and a brass pan in the other, supposed to be going to a distant farm to bring some simple provision for the cottagers' breakfast. It is infinitely more difficult to paint the soft lines and features of female beauty, than to paint the strong chords and muscles of a man; yet never was loveliness and complete beauty more masterly expressed than in the coun- tenance of this lovely girl. This idea of beauty brings to my recollection the poetical description which so charmingly characterizes the perfec- tion of beauty, as given by Ariosto in his Orlando Furioso. As this elegant work, written by one of the first Ita- lian authors, was translated in the reign GENIUS OF MAN. 173 the same time supposing that many- met with it, I shall, by their leave, A shape whose like in waxe tweare had to frame* Or to express by skill of painters rare, Her heare was long, and yellow too the same, As might with wire of beaten gold compare : Her lovely cheeks with shew of modest shame. With roses and with lillies painted are, Her forhead faire and full of seemely cheare, As smoth as pullisht iuorie doth appeare. Vnder two arches of most curious fashion, Stand two black eyes, that like two cleare suns shind, Stedie in looke, but apt to take compassion, Amid which lights, the naked Boy and blind Casteth his darts that cause so many a passion, Leauing a sweete and curelesse wound behind, From thence the nose in such good sort descended, As enuie knowes not how it may be mended. Vndcr chance not have give the following quotation: 174 A SCH1ZZ0 ON THE Vnder the which in dew and comly space, Standeth the mouth staind with vermillion hew, Two rowes of precious perle serue in their place, To show and shut, a lip right faire to vew, Hence come the courteous words, and ful of grace, That mollifie hard harts and make them new : From hence proceed those smilings sweet and nice, That seeme to make an earthly paradice. Her brests as milke, her necke as white as snow, Round was her neck, most plum & large her brest, Two iuory apples seemed there to grow, Tender and smooth, and fittest to be prest: Waning like seas, where winds most calm cloth blow, Argos himselfe might not descerne the rest, Yet by presumption well it might be gest, That that which was concealed was the best. Her armes due measure of proportion bare, Her faire white hand was to be vewed plaine, The fingers long, the joynts so curious are, As neither knot appeard nor swelling vaine, And full to perfect all those features rare, The foote that to be seene doth sole remaine, Slender and short, little it was and round, A finer Foote might no where well be found. This GENIUS OF MAN. J75 This is Ariosto's pifture of < Italian beauty, as versified by Sir John Ha- rington, of Kelston, near Bath. It was translated above two hundred years ago; and, though the English language was not at that time ren- dered so smooth for versifying as it now is, yet in it may be seen much of the true spirit of poetry. Sir John was a very young man, not above two or three and twenty, at the time he undertook the translation of Orlan- do, — a very long and difficult work to render into English, in the true spirit and meaning of the Italian author! yet in every part of his work he has happily succeeded. Queen Elizabeth* his godmother, to whom he dedicated the work by permission, and who understood the Italian language per- feftly I76 A SCHIZZO ON THE fe£tly well, much commended the per- formance. Besides being a good poet, Sir 'John was one of the first wits of that age, as may be seen in his letters and poetry, published by my brother in three volumes, entitled Nugce Anti- quce.* It was his father who served the Queen, then the Princess Eliza- betb, who was confined in the Tower by her sister Mary, and who married her father He?try the Eighth's natural daughter. That monarch gave his son-in-law, my ancestor, for his wife's dowry, the valuable forfeited monas- tery lands J of Katherine, Bath-Easton, Kelston, Corston, &c. * A fourth volume of this very entertaining work, / hope, my father will speedily publish. J At' mem un 9 acra dl quanta la nostra famiglia, gcnerazlone abbia ereditato \ se mai la buona Ven- tura GENIUS OF MAN. 65 he has the following observation : c And since the arrival at the perfection of painting, in which so many concur- F rent " styles and designs, as it were, into one focus! why " they would die again with envy and vexation!" ' Pray, Mr. Hallen,' said a little Welsh Justice of the Peace, with half a name, (his name was Van) who was standing among the groupe, ' I pray you, * Mister Hallen, for the love and goot will of Got, c of what use is that pig patch of egg in the mittte c of your pi&ure?' — "Now by the great and " glorious Protogenes, Pamphilus, Parrhasius, and " Polignotus, and all the immortal spirits of de- " parted painters ! was ever man so insulted, " abused, and cursed with such a question ? Good " God ! that any man can be so ignorant ! why, " Sir, that pig patch of egg, which you so rudely " call it, is the very soul, or as it were the second " world, or microcosm of my picture; without that " it would be all darkness, like the dismal shades of " night, or the gloomy vale of death ; a mere con- " fused mass, or, as it were, another chaos ! 'Tis " little Lucina Bright, that gives the pale soft tints, " the pleasing lights, and dusky shades, to every " part 66 A SCHIZZO ON THE rent abilities are necessary, is difficult and arduous - y it is a favour which the liberality of heaven has conferred but 071 u part of my divine performance.' ' 4 Nay, Sir,' replied the Welchman, 4 I know nothing about c little Lucilla Pright, I suppose some little fa- 4 vourite wench of yours, that will say any thing to c flatter you ; put I tell you, Mr. Hallen, there are c creat and manifold faults in your picture, and I 4 say acain, that pig patch of egg has no business c there.' " D e, Sir, if 'tis not as fine a " moon as ever shone from heaven, to lighten this 44 villainous world, and all true judges of painting 44 will say so ; you never saw, nor never had, nor 44 ever will have, such a glorious moon in Wales ! " no, sir, you must come to England to be enlight- 44 ened!" c O St. Taffy, with hur sweet gentle au c triputes, leeks, coats, and toasted cheese ! hear this c slanderous impudence, and quickly hurl thy mon- c strous revenge upon the head of this tamrfd old c painter ! Y neb sydd ganddo glustian i wrando 4 gwrandawed ! I swear py all the ancient Pritish ' Princes of the Principality, Owen Glendower, 4 Harry Monmouth, Tavid Gam, and Capt. Flu- 4 ellen, GENIUS OF MAN. Oj o?i a few y for, in truth, it is necessary that the painter, as well as the poet, should be born so, and be the child OF NATURE.' F 2 This c ellen, there never was such a tamn'd infamous moon * seen in Campria; 'tis treason against the Prince c of Wales, and all the Royal Family ! It's a Iipe/ y * an aclionaple Up el against Camprian Pritons, who * have as goot a moon, and a more antient moon c too, than ever sbinet in England ! 'Tis a reflec- ' tion, a tamrid wicked reflection, upon all the de- ' parted heroes of Campria, who noply and pravefy c fought for the coot of their country without c preeches, which was as much, do you see, as to c pravefy tefy, and to tell Frenchmen they might ' and be tamrid! Ah, I warrant * you, Mr. Hallen, if Capt. Fluellen was here, put < he would make you pite well at the l$ekf " These, sir," replied old Allen, " are such infer- " nal diabolical reflections upon me, my piclure, " my moon in particular, and upon the art of paint- " ing in general, that I shall seek revenge ! and I « da 68 A SCHIZZO ON THE This position a friend of the writer, a man of sense and genius too, very lately at an after-dinner conversation, strenuously denied : " Nature," said he, " never made a man a painter,* any otherwise (from its being GENIUS OF MAN. 211 being so large) due justice would not be done to this charming landscape. It is astonishing what expression he gives to the features of very small figures; he has painted a landscape about a foot square, in which he has introduced a company of gypsies tell- ing a country girl her fortune! the countenance of the old harridan be- speaks her artful cant. The girl's face is full of the redolence of joy, strongly expressive of that pleasure which the painter meant should be thrown in her countenance from the supposition of her being pleased with the good news of matrimony, and with the foretelling of many a pleasing event. In the back ground of this P 2 picture £12 A SCHIZZO ON THE picture is a beautiful landscape taken from nature near Claverton. Barker, like a true genius, has a great dislike to portrait painting, just- ly thinking it cramps the genius, and confines the mind, unless it be united to some subjeft representing some great atchievement to the honour and repu- tation of the person, or the image of some virtue, or connected with some scene in nature, so as to display the genius of the painter. A few winters ago he painted the portrait of his friend's daughter, a fine girl about thirteen or fourteen years of age, and introduced on the canvas a pifturesque scene of rugged winter; trees . covered with icicles, people skait- ing CENIUS OF MAN, 2IJ ing on ice in every dire£tion, groupes of figures, cottages, &c. The young lady is in a walking attitude, hand- somely attired in wintry garments, with a muff and other symbols of the severity of that season. — This is a well-designed, excellent pifture. His pifture of three sand boys dividing some broken vi&uals, taken from nature, is one of the most capi- tal of our young artist's piftures. — Mr. Rogers, of Southampton, an ac- knowledged judge of painting, knew its value, by purchasing it for one hun- dred and fifty guineas I The scene and figures are taken from life, and the nude appears like living flesh ! The hungry and eager looks of the boys in the division of their victuals is most excellently 214 A SCHIZZO ON THE excellently expressed; each one surveys the other with eyes of jealousy, with looks which seem to say cc you have cc more than your share." I never beheld a pifture more true to nature; and as a proof of it, I beg leave to relate the following little circum- stance: — A gentleman of Bath went to see Barkers piftures; — his terrier dog happened to follow him into the room where this picture (which was just finished) was then placed against a chair. The moment the dog espied it he first growled, and then barked violently; both Mr. Spackman and the gentleman at first imagined a cat might be in the room, till the dog un- deceived them by running furiously at the picture, and endeavouring to lay hold of the tattered coat of one of GENIUS OF MAN. 215 of the boys, when all he grasped was thin air, instead of ragged sub- stance ! Zeuxis might have been proud of such a nattering deception, who painted a boy carrying a basket of grapes, and seeing the birds come and peck at them, he confessed that if the grapes were well painted, the boy must be /// painted, since the birds were not afraid of him. The Grecian artists must have been wonderful masters of imitation, if what Pliny relates of them be true, particu- larly the well-known story of Zeuxis and Parrhasius, who, to decide a con- troversy, agreed that each should make a pi&ure, and let the world judge whose performance was best. Zeuxis painted some grapes, and Parrhasius a curtain ; 210 A SCHIZZO ON THE curtain: Zeuxiss work being exposed to sight, invited the birds to come and peck at it, believing the grapes to be real; and Zeuxis, proud of the judg- ment the birds had given in his favour, bad Parrhasius draw the curtain and shew his pifture; but finding himself deceived by the curtain, he ingenu- ously confessed he was overcome, for he had only deceived birds, whereas Parrhasius had deceived him himself, as great a painter as he was; — but this talent for imitation was the death of Zeuxis. It is said, he painted an old woman so natural, and yet so comical, that he laughed himself to death at the sight of her. This is related by Festus. That he was a great painter there is no doubt, since Aristotle, Quin- tilian, Pliny, and Lucian, all make honourable GENIUS OF MAN". 21J honourable mention of him, yet the two former are his critics too. Aris- totle says he had not the talent of ex- pressing justly the passions of the soul; and ^uintilian observes he made the extremities of his figures too pow- erful, imitating Homer, who delighted, in describing bodies, to give them strong and robust members, even to those of women. Homer has done this, and highly proper in so grand and bold an epic poem, where he made his heroes, not as common nature, but gave them a plenitude of influ- ences, assisted upon all occasions by a supposed particular providence of the heathen deities, which often made them appear more like demigods than men. A genius 1 1 3 A SCHIZZO ON THE A genius sublime enough to write an epic poem will not suffer himself to be confined to the trammels of com- mon proportion. Milton^ in his epic descriptions, took the same licence, and so did Shakespeare in the drama. Man, in his ordinary nature, has too many diminutives, has too little in his power, is too vulnerable, to perform lofty deeds of wonder and surprise I — Inspiration only can effeft it. Yet it is enough to make us proud, that it is in our power to conceive ideas far more vast and magnificent than our limited nature has power to perform. From this arises a glorious reflection, that as we can comprehend more than we are allowed to execute, it appears highly probable there will yet be a time when the mind or soul of man shall GENIUS OF MAN. shall have its fall expanse, and, un- clogged, shall far more clearly view that which now only appears vifionary or imperfeft to our imaginations, and as I take it for this reason 5 — that God could never have endued all man- kind with a presumption of looking so high, and possessing him with the ideas of immortality, (which he has reason "to expeft) without intending him for that great and eternal state. These reflections bring to my mind the ecstatical admiration of that inge- nious writer Mr. Richardson: " Good " God, says he, what a noble spirit the price of it is two guineas. The portrait is finely exe- cuted, and so is the dog ; but as the attention should never be diverted from what ought to be the prin- cipal, however well it may be done, I could almost wish the dog done away, as, when Protogenes the Grecian painter, in the famous picture of Jalissus^ had painted a partridge so exquisitely well that it seemed a living creature, it was admired by all Greece; but that being more taken notice of, he • defaced it entirely. I There is no doubt but that this part of the art, which is the epic in painting, will be Barker's future greatness, it already appears his chief delight, and occupies the greater part of his attention. — If he reads a striking passage in history, he presently forms a design, and, as if an angel guided his hand, GENIUS OF MAN, Q.4.I generations ! Yet still, great genius, proceed, nor wearied stop in the glo- R rious hand, he forms a beautiful composition. This he does with a facility and comprehension that is in- conceivable to geniuses of the mi hut ice tribe. A few of these schizzos have been presented to connoisseurs, who value them highly, and ac- knowledge they form the best and most undoubted proof of a great genius. He has painted three or four small scripture pieces, and although they are the works of very young days, are well conceived and executed, particularly his Elijah taken up into Heaven. The Rev. Mr. Gilpin, author of several tours, makes so just an observation upon History Paint- ing, that I am tempted to transcribe the passage, earnestly hoping that Barker's historical pieces will yet be able to raise raptures^ and that even Mr. Gilpin's fine imagination shall not soar beyond them. " History Painting (says this judicious writer) is certainly the most elevated species. Nothing exalts the human mind so much as to see the great actions of our fellow-creatures brought before the eye; but this pleasure we seldom find in painting. So much is A SCHIZZO ON THE rious course thou hast begun do honour to the present age, and become the glory of our island!* is required from the history painter, so intimate a knowledge both of nature and art, that we rarely see a history piece, even from the best masters, that is able to raise raptures. We may admire the colouring, or the execution, or some under-part ; but the soul is seldom reached. The imagination soars beyond the picture. In the inferior walks of painting, where less is required, more of course is performed : and though we have few good pictures in history, we have many in portrait, in landscape, in animal life, dead game, fruit and flowers. — History painting is a mode of epick: and the lite- rary world abounds with admirable productions in the lower walks of poetry; an epick is the wonder of an age." * Mr Webb laments, in his usual elegant style of writing, that there is not a national genius for the divine art of painting in this country : — " By what fatality, says he, has it been, that a nation eminent for its productions in poetry and elo- quence, capable of the greatest efforts of genius, and blest with the happiest sensibility, should for so many ages, with a kind of wilful and Gothick rudeness* GENIUS OF MAN. And now, my good reader, perhaps you will accuse me of bombastical language and gross partiality, in order R 2 to rudeness, have withstood the allurements of this divine art?" No doubt but it is owing to the extraordinary passion, which, Mr. TVehb well ob- serves, the English have for portraits, which must ever prevent the rise of History Painting among us ; for the liberal, like the mechanical arts, de- pend wholly on the encouragement they meet with. There are painters of genius too, who being more avaricious of money than of fame, will suffer themselves to gain a few paltry pounds a year more by basely prostituting their talents to despicable face-painting. Barker has a too generous disdain for the love of money to pervert those talents which Heaven has given him in so ignoble a manner. An anonymous author has also expressed his surprize similar to Mr. Webb, — where the idea is nearly brought to life; we behold at 254 A SCHIZZO ON THE at one glance a second nature, or nature improved by a possibility of beautiful, affe£Hng, or grand co-inci- dences, grouped into one scene; we at once see summoned to our view, simplicity, dignity, grace, and beauty, given with a finished design of colour- ing and composition, which poetry, oratory, and the drama, cannot give, consistent with their separate func- tions; for there parts as it were slide from parts y and so rapidly that the memory ought to be very retentive, and the spirit and imagination to co- operate with the authors, in order to feel like them; but in painting, not only the idea but the aftion is brought naked to the eye, which the mind at once conceives, and readily embraces ! The GENIUS OF MAN. The sublime description of Shake- speare's Denmark 's King is won- drously beautiful: See what a grace was seated on his brow ! Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten or command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a Heav'n-kissing hill. Yet in lieu of reading these five fine lines, who would not be more satisfied with seeing the Alexander of Apel- les, in the charafter of Jupiter! here indeed we should see personified the front of Jove himself \ all his majesty, grace, and beauty, with his eye to threaten or command! and even more than this if what Pliny relates be true, who says, Lumen et umbras cusfo- divit at que at eminerent e tabulis pitlura, maxime curavit. — The fingers seem to shoot 256 A SCHIZZO ON THE shoot forward, and the thunder to be out of the pi Bur e. All the powers of descriptive words in poetry and oratory, or all the va- riety of multitudinary notes in music, are inadequate to convey the descrip- tion of perfeft beauty, equal to that for example which a famous Grecian painter made when he selected the finest women of Greece^ in order to make a perfeft model of beauty from their different points of loveliness and beauty^* or can words make us * " The truth of this observation," says an ano- nymous writer, "depends upon the experience and judgment of the observer, and the justness of his ideas, and may require much greater abilities, and a more competent knowledge of nature ; and in that GENIUS OF MAN. 257 us feel equal to the pleasure of behold- ing the grace and beauty of the women of Raphael, Correggxo, Guido, and Rubens! And so in sculpture: the best poetry and oratory would fall short in description of the beauty of what true beauty, a just proportion and harmony, or perfe&ion, consists, than man can be presumed to possess. The great Raphael, in a letter to his friend Count Balthasar Castiglione^ concerning a Galatea he had painted for him, seems to have lamented the want of the best examples, which he esteems necessary, from the scarcity of fine women in his age and country! " Le dico bene che per depenge una bella, mi bisognerior veder piu belle con- questa condizione che V. S. si trovasse meco a fare scelto del meglio. Ma essendo oggi carestia e di buoni giudici e di belle donne jo ?ni servo di certa idea che mi viene alia mente." To paint a beauty, I ought to see many beauties, on condition you were with me, to choose the best; but there being at this time a scarcity both of good judges and fine wo- men, I make use of a certain divine form or idea which presents itself to my imagination. s the 258 A SCHIZZO ON THE the statue which Polycletes made for posterity, which is called the rule, from whose beautiful proportions the Grecians drew the proverb — as beautiful as a Jlatue.* The same may be observed of the representations and descriptions of the passions, * The commencement of the first strophe of Pindar's Eighth Nemean Ode, not only expresses the great estimation the ancients had for beauty, but shews, in a most amiable point of view, how much they wisely venerated chastity ! The good heathen has given his wise advice in truly Christian sentiments, — most worthy the attention of allmen, particularly of poor inexperienced youth ! ! ! The passage is thus translated by the learned, ingenious, and Reverend James Banister, in his late translation of Pindar's Odes: Beauty, rever'd by men below and gods above, Herald of Venus, and ambrosial love, Delighting GENIUS OF MAN. 259 passions, that they are at once brought home to the view, and ever fixed for our admiration or improvement; it is a sort of language, which, as it were, speaks to the mind, and a6ls before our eyes. The drama is but a speak- ing moving pifture; and although it partakes of poetry and painting, yet it is but insubstantial and fleeting, like lightning, which vanishes ere we can say it is. Now painting does stay Delighting still to fix thy seat On virgin eye-lids soft and sweet, Those happy few enjoy thy kind regards, Whose souis, serene and pure, religion guards ; While others, led astray by wild desires, Are doom'd to burn in unextinguish'd fires 'Tis wisdom's part to seize the present hour, While bloom the sweets of youth's fair op'ning flower. To shun the dangerous snares of lawless love, Content its chaste and calm delights to prove. S 2 with 26o A SCHIZZO ON THE with us, and we can at any time con- template and study it. So much is the advantage of personification to mere description, that let a fine play be undramatized, and narrate it in equal good language, how infinitely would it fail in efFeft from the want of personification ; it is this which makes the works of dramatic authors so much more frequently quoted than poets of other descriptions, who have not the same advantage in having their senti- ments dressed for aftion, and brought forth with theatrical pageantry and splendour: — Historical Painting then is a species of the drama, and can afford as much delight, at least, as poetry; for where the sublime is united with the natural and pathetic, it will per- force take possession of the mind equal GENIUS OF MAN. id I equal to the finest passages of Shake- speare and Milton, or the power- ful, elevated, swelling, bold harmony of one of Handel's sublime chorus- ses, showering down as it were c celes- tial fire, mingled with balsamic drops of heavenly dew ! ! ! cc Words," says a certain author, cc paint to the imagination, but every man forms the thing to himself in his own way; language is very imperfeft: there are innumerable colours and figures for which we have no name, and an infinity of other ideas which have no certain words universally agreed upon as denoting them : where- as the painter can convey his ideas of these things clearly, and without am- biguity; and what he says every one S 3 under- 262 A SCHIZZO ON THE understands in the sense he intended. And this is a language that is univer- sal; men of all nations hear the poet, moralist, historian, divine, or what- ever other character the painter as- sumes, speaking to them in their own mother tongue. Painting has another advantage over words, and that is, it pours ideas into our minds 5 words only drop them. The whole scene opens at one view, whereas the other way lifts up the curtain by little and little." The pleasure that painting, as a dumb* art, gives us, is like what we have * The people comically called Quakers ought to be encouragers of painting, which they are not, from simply thinking it a vain, trivial, idle art ! GENIUS OF MAN. 263 have from music ; its beautiful forms, colours, and harmony, are to the eye, what sounds, and the harmony of that kind, are to the ear - y and in both we are art ! But my dear, peaceable, odd friends, you should consider, that "painting is a pleasant, innocent amusement, and as such it holds its place amongst our enjoyments. But it is more ; it is of great use, as being one of the means whereby we convey our ideas to each other, and which, in some respects, has the advantage of all the rest. And thus it must be ranked with these, and accordingly esteemed, not only as an enjoy- ment, but as another language, which completes the whole art of communicating our thoughts ; one of those particulars which raises the dignity of human nature so much above the brutes; and which is the more considerable, as being a gift bestowed but upon a few even of our own species." You then, Messrs. les Quaker -j, who are a thought- ful, contemplative, dry, smoking, singularly eccentric people, should hold pictures in high estimation. — Good subjects inspire good thoughts, and improve the mind in taste and knowledge ; and even portraits of 264 A SCHIZZO ON THE are delighted in observing the skill of 1 the artist in proportion to it, and our own judgment to discover it. of absent friends greatly help to keep up those senti- ments which frequently languish by absence ; and may be instrumental to maintain and sometimes to augment friendship, and paternal, filial, and con- jugal love and duty. Nothing tends more to keep alive those just feelings, those natural regrets, (without which we are no better than brutes) for departed worth, than the portraits of our friends ; it opens the mind seriously to reflecl: on the uncer- tainty of life, and is a far more pleasing me?nento mori, than a Death's headend crossed shin-bones ! — Now with a portrait, of whose character we are acquainted, we can hold a sort of converse ; his history calls to remembrance events that may be useful to reflection, circumstances which we should imitate for their virtue, and others, perhaps, that we should shun for their errors, for Ne quid hu- mani alienum errori. Thus pictures are the means of inspiring virtue, and, to the honest Quaker, as much active devo- tion as he makes use of in his conventicle ; for if he has only a collection of portraits, he may have a congregation at any time he pleases, that will inspire GENIUS OF MAN, 26 5 I shall not pretend to go through with a regular comparison, to find which of the liberal arts has the inspire him with more instruction than any / ever heard at their meetings ! I confess, I should be almost as much surprized to hear one of my an- cestors' portraits speak, as a Quaker at a meeting- The Quaker, perhaps, may objefr. to indiscrimi- nate portraits to form his congregation, as some of them may be apt to inflame his passions, instead of allaying them to a sober temperature. The objection is certainly good ; and I would by no means have him admit the effigies of a pretty wench into his congregation ! Cut as there should be both sexes, let him admit only lean, ugly* old women dressed in close mob caps, with a bit of old hair appearing in front a la Tyburn, neatly wrapt in russet stuffs, and close-pinned handkerchiefs, like the effigies* of Mary Fisher, Ann Austin, Mary- Prince, Sarah Gibbens, Szc. the American martyr ladies ; and, by way of contrast to these old girls, * Vide New England judged by the spirit of the Lord : and the sum sealed up of New England's Perfections ; being a brief relation of the sufferings of the people called Quakers in those parts of America, from the beginning of the 5th month, 1656, to the latter end of the 10th month, 1660, first printed in 1661, and re-printed in 1703. introduce 0.66 A SCHIZZO ON THE greatest predominancy over the pas- sions. I look upon them as hand- maids to each other; and if not abused, are all subservient to virtue. introduce fat, greasy-faced, smoky old fellows, with black snug wigs, or lank hair, clothed in iil- cut, ungarnished brown coats and black waist- coats, such as old W. Leddra, G. Fox, J. Per rot, J, Stubbs, S. Fisher, C. Brickhead, J. Love, and W. Br end, martyrs or sufferers for the crime of quakerism. Old JVill. Penn, giving audience and treating with the Indians, should always be introduced ; it is a good, historical subject, and likely to stir up benevolent ideas. But to be serious : Pictures have always been looked upon as pleasing remembrances, to awaken the mind to acxs of devotion; and if the painter be defined a mute poet, the Quaker should prefer him for possessing a congeniality of sentiment, where in silence every passion may be expressed. " Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, " Hate, fear and grief, the family of pain. tc * ****** * * * * * % * * " The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife " Gives all the strength and colour of our life." In GENIUS OF MAN. Q.6j A writer of much credit says, speaking of painting, cc To be an accomplished painter, a man must In short, every gentlemanly and liberal Quaker ought to encourage painting, for something like the same reason ghiintus Pediits^ nephew and joint heir of Cesser with Ofiavius, afterwards surnamed Augustus^ was taught painting. He was born dumb^ and, by the advice of Messala, the famous orator, was taught this art, which that wise Emperor Oclavius much approved of, knowing, that next to polite literature, no art was so noble or expres- sive, or would so well supply the want of language / It is true, my amiable friends, fiiv of you are born dumb) but you certainly do affeft taciturnity to an unaccountable, if not to a culpable degree^ in what is improperly called your places of worship ! Why do you perpetually look for miracles to be worked upon you by the hand of Heaven, in giving you inspiration^ any more than on any of the rest of your fellow- creatures ? " But the influence of right reason^ says a certain noble author, is bestowed on very few men, whilst millions are led in error by the nose!!!" possess 268 A SCHIZZO ON THE possess more than one liberal art, which puts him upon the level with those that do that, and makes him superior to those that possess but one in an equal degree; he must be also a curious artificer, whereby he be- comes superior to one who equally possesses the other talents, but wants that. A Rafaelle, therefore, is not only equal, but superior to a Virgil, or a Livy, a Thucydides, or a Ho- mer." This is going far, yet much may be said in favour of it! A history painter should be a good historian, have the talents of a poet, understand ancient and modern learn- ing, have a noble mind, and conceive clearly; he should understand anato- my, geometry, perspective, architec- ture, GENIUS OF MAN. 269 ture, osteology, and other sciences, which the poet, the orator, the histo- rian, and the musician, have no occa- sion for in their several arts. This be- ing the case where so many influences are wanted to make a great painter, it requires only a degree of hesitation, as it were, to pronounce whether a very sublime w r ell-painted history is equal in merit to the Iliad of Homer, the Eneid of Virgil, the historical wri- tings of a Tkucydides and a Livy, the orations of Demosthenes and Tully, the Paradise Lost of Milton, the Macbeth of Shakespeare, or the Messiah of Handel. I will not presume to say so far, that the best painting is equal to some of those for the beneficial purpose of mans in? struBionl yet I think there is as much mind 270 A SCHIZZO ON THE mind required to paint the piElure, as to write the book, speak the speech, or to compose the music! Poetry and music have certain ad- vantages which painting has not, it is more capable of extensive description, it is more easy for the fancy to prac- tise upon, I mean it is more ready, nearer at hand to put into execution. Poetry can abound with beautiful metaphors, which painting cannot, though it may of allegory; it is also a mixture of painting, music, and eloquence; it speaks, it has its har- mony and cadences, it lays on colours, and draws out objects; it makes truth appear in lovely colours, and piftures vice in the most odious light, suffici- ent to make us in love with virtue, and detest GENIUS OF MAN. 1J I detest vice) in short, it takes in the whole system of nature, creating with a sort of magical fancy, which our Shakespeare has inimitably done, new worlds and a new race of beings ; it will rush into hell, and penetrate into heaven, it captivates the mind with a thousand pleasant illusions! Yet painting has one advantage which poetry, with all her charms, has not; it gratifies one of the most pleasant and cheerful senses we have ; we behold those things which the poet only describes *> and, as some author observes, cc every thing speaks in a good picture." So that we see the aftion, and, as it were, converse with the performers, and im- prove from the sub] eft. One of the ancients thought good pictures excited virtue so much, and so 272 A SCHIZZO ON THE so improved the mind of man, that he could not bear to think that a fine composition should always remain in one country ; he thought it a common good to all the world! I have men- tioned this in another part of my book, yet it is nevertheless apropos here; and although the sentiment came from a painter, and the greatest (according to historians) that the world ever pro- duced, I have no doubt but that it originated entirely from his benevolence, and not from vanity that his own pic- tures should be distinguished beyond all others, for never existed a more disinterested character, cc witness his treatment of Protogenes, whose great excellence not being known to his countrymen, Apelles opened their eyes, by offering him the immense price of GENIUS OF MAN. 273 of fifty talents for every one of his pic- hires T 1 1 1 Since the invention of printings poetry, oratory, and music, have the advantage of giving a more general diffusion of knowledge and taste, than painting; the one may take off millions of impressions, in almost every lan- guage, whereas the other must remain unique, except in the imitative art of engraving, which conveys, as it were, only the mere design and moral idea of the subjeft, without the life and colour- ing of the original. Many may be in possession of the stores of poetry, and the belles lettres, whilst none but the rich can be in possession of fine piftures ! If the ingenious invention of the Polygraphic art should be brought to T any 274 A SCHIZZO ON THE any perfe&ion, it may cause a more general diffusion of the copies of fine pi&ures; and thus, in some measure, the idea of Apelles will be put into execution two thousand and some hun- dred years after his death . One cannot but wish a more general diffusion of pi&ures, because they illustrate and ex- emplify, by shewing to the eye those things which the arts and sciences lend each other, and " happily the near affinity that is observed between the polite arts, they being indeed all but different means of addressing the same passions, makes this at once the most effeftual and ready method of convey- ing our ideas." To understand sci- ence is the lot but of a few, but feeling is bestowed on all ; and as the eye is said to be the light of the mind, so is the mind GENIUS OF MAN. mind enlightened by the eye; it is less liable to err than even the best con- ceptions of the mind; consequently the sight of pictures will convey just and sublime ideas to the mind; the least intelligent and vulgar cannot but be improved and pleased with the ima- ges of painting, while poetry, elo- quence, and even music, may not penetrate either their ears, heads, or hearts. The ancient Mexicans, it is said, made piftures, as it were, a language; having no idea of the charafter of letters, they painted innumerable fi- gures, to express their ideas. So pic- ture can speak where language fails. T 2 I have 276 A SCHIZZO ON THE I have somewhere read a story of one of the ancient painters, that was by some treachery led to the camp of an enemy, even to the King's tent, and taken prisoner; the General de- manded for what purpose he came there - 9 the poor painter, not under- standing the language, and expecting to be put to death, took out his pen- cil, and made a beautiful drawing of the person who conducted him. The King instantly recognized the features of the person, pardoned the painter, took him into his service, and loaded him with honours and reward!!! — Thus we see it at once speak to the eye and the mind, and melt the heart! An author, who I have several times quoted, says, in his remarks on the beauties GENIUS OF MAN, 277 beauties of poetry, " that if painting be inferior to poetry, music, consider- ed as an imitative art, must be greatly inferior to painting." I know not yet that painting is inferior to poetry; as an imitative art, it is superior; it is true indeed that it is not so much culti- vated and generally practised as poetry and music, whose powers often enchain our passions . But painting would have the same effect, if it were as generally practised. The ancient writers consi- dered it as on equal footing with poetry. The same gentleman I have quoted be- fore, in his chapter on the antiquity and usefulness of painting, rather contra- dicts a former opinion, when he says, agreeable to this idea, the Greek wri- ters often speak of the drama of a pain- ter, of the moral of painting; expressions which 278 A SCHIZZO ON THE which mark that they considered this art as on a level and co-operating with poetry. One of the gravest and most judicious of the Romans viewed it in the same light. and illumines the mind as by inspiration ;* it draws forth the af- fections, combines with the ideas, and produces as it were a sympathetic har- mony of soul ! When it acts thus pow- erfully, it has surely a sufficient signi- fication to be very well understood! but excite him to dance, till he profusely perspired. This exercise was frequently continued till the pa- tient fell down through fatigue ! * " Hence the genuine charm of music, and the wonders which it works through its great profes- sors ; a power which consists not in imitations, and the raising ideas ; but in the raising affections, to which ideas may correspond. There are few to be found so insensible — I had almost said, so in- human, as when good poetry is justly set to music, not in some degree to feel the force of so amiable an union ; but to the muses' friends it is a force irresistible, and penetrates into the deepest recesses of the soul!" I will 296 A SCHIZZO ON THE I will grant it co-operates better with poetry, and that it is a powerful ally, because a double force is made to co-operate to one end!*f- Pray, Sir, said I, to my friend Mom. Mon Percy (and a more able judge of these subjefts will not very easily be found) suppose a great composer were to set a poetical composition, expres- sive of certain passions and affeftions, and the sound universally acknow- ledged to be a compleat echo of the sense ; if the music were then despoiled f " These two arts can never be so powerful singly as when they are properly united ; for poetry when alone must be necessarily forced to waste many of its richest ideas in the mere raising of affe&ions ; when, to have been properly relished, it should have found these affections in their high- est energy." of GENIUS OF MAN. 297 of the poetry, do you think the har- mony alone would leave any just idea of the nature of the subject it was meant to convey?* " Certainly/' re- plied he, C£ it is by no means so imper- fect a thing as not to leave evident traces of its signification,^ it is more the * " Whatever happens to be the affection or disposition of the mind, which ought naturally to result from the genius of any poem, the same pro- bably it will be in the power of some species of mu- sic to excite l n Harris. f Handel's music above all is remarkable for this : who can doubt, that has any ear, what die Funeral Anthem, and the Dead March in Saul, were designed for ! or strip the words from the air of / knoiv that my Redeemer livcth, or of Pious Orgies, &cc. who will not still feel them as pious airs ? notwithstanding the weak bigotry of the old Quaker woman, who stopped the enchanting Sto- R ace when singing the above divine air in Salis- bury cathedral, loudly calling it profanation, and unsancTif cation, bv/ Friends should have given this 298 A SCHIZZO ON THE the want of perception in us not to un- derstand it, than any fault of its power and expression ! What would be said of a painter who should content himself with laying on his canvas a parcel of bold strokes, and a heap of the most this lady a more finished theological education, for their reputed wisdom's sake, before she made her debut in public. What would they say, if any of us rational Christian Churchmen were to come into one of their little ungarnished conventicles, and say, " Ye unhallowed sons of silence, why " do ye sit here so irreverently with your hats on ? :otpar Dieu ! maisje suis beaucoup amuse! !" we GENIUS OF MAN". 303 we are to seek for its proper effe£t than from imitation; and finding it a subject more proper to be treated at large than to be introduced piece-meal here, I shall take my leave of that and poetry, considered as imitative arts, af- ter giving the following quotation, to prove that Painting possesses, in seve- ral degrees, a superiority over Poetry as an imitative art. " Poetry is forced to pass through the medium of compaft, while paint- ing applies immediately through the medium of nature; the one being understood to all, the other to the speakers of a certain language only; — in as much as natural operations must needs be more affe&ing than artificial; — in as much as painting helps 304 A SCHIZZO ON THJi helps our own rude ideas by its own, which are consummate, and wrought up to the perfection of art; while poetry can raise no other than what every mind is furnished with be- fore;— in as much as painting shews all the minute and various concurrent circumstances of the event, in the same individual point of time as they appear in nature; while poetry is forced to want this circumstance of intelligibility, by being ever obliged to enter into some degree of detail; — in as much as this detail creates often the dilemma of either becoming tedious to be clear; or if not tedious , then ob- scure; — lastly, in as much as all imita- tions more similar, more immediate, and more intelligible, are preferable to those which are less so- and for the reasons GENIUS OF MAN, 2°S reasons above; the imitations of poetry are less similar, less immediate, and less intelligible, than those of paint- ing; — from all this it will follow, that in all subjects where painting can fully exert itself, the imitations of painting are superior to those of poetry, and, consequently, in all such subjects, that painting has the preference !" The same author again observes, and buries him in that gulph of contempt which he had prepared for the good Curtius ! ! !% t Vide Curtius rescued from the gulph. An 3IO A SCHIZZO ON THE An Italian writer, when speaking of the genius of Titian, says, " At the death of Raphael, one would ima- gine his great soul had entered the body of Titian " If young Barker were to die to-morrow, you, gentle- men critics, might be proud to have a portion of his genius infused into your souls: and had you some of his mo- desty and liberality too, you would not be the less amiable for so valu- able a present ! All the pictures that have been sold of Barker's, from fifty guineas to five hundred, were either taken from scenes of nature or his own invention, and almost all of those in the gallery, txcept his admirable Dutch and Fle- mish GENIUS OF MAN. 3H mish copies,"* his portrait after the manner of Gainsborough, and two or three in the style of Rembrandt and Cuyp.-f are all taken from nature. So extremely untrue then is it to say, that he is only a copyist! And what could a young man do better, or his master * He has painted the Fair at Lansdown in the manner o f those schools ; and it is neither blas- phemy, presumption, or an untruth, to say, that few of the old masters in that style ever painted a better picture ! If there are infidels, let them go and see, to believe ! — as to the envious, the diffi- cult, and the never-to-be-pleased, we care nothing about ! He does not paint for them, nor do I write for them. The diuike and criticism of some of these gentry very frequently proceed from the most abominable, hard-hearted, and pernicious ignorance, that malignity and malice can infuse into the human mind ! f Barker has taken some scenes from nature in the manner of Cuyp, and a very pleasing style it is. The 312 A SCHIZZO ON THE master better advise him to, than to draw from the best drawings, and paint from the best painters ? Had he, in- deed, copied only from one or two mas- ters, he might in time have become a slave to their manner, a servile copyist ; but Mr. Spackman took care that he The principal figures in this style of painting are placed against a bright horizon, dividing the upper hemisphere from that which is hid from our sight. In order to produce its proper effecl:, for shewing figures to advantage, the view of a hill not far dis- tant is generally presented: by this means, the clair obscure, if judiciously managed, is beautifully thrown upon the figures, and gives a surprising de- gree of brilliance and cheerful effect to the land- scape. I am surprized this style of painting is not more frequently adopted, such scenes in nature being extremely picturesque; and the painter has great opportunity of throwing bold tints upon his figures, if he weil understands the management of light and shade, and has a good knowledge of painting sky. Barker is famous for effe&ing these essential qualities. should GENIUS OF MAN. 3 1 3 should copy from a variety, and those only the great masters-, but it is utterly impossible that he should ever become a mere copyist, or a mannerist, because his unbounded genius will prevent the one, and his industry and emulation the other! In order to illustrate what I have said, that he could not be better em- ployed for the first three or four years, than in judiciously copying from the works of great artists, I cannot do better than to give the following quo- tation from a very excellent and much- approved author: — " It is impossible, says he, for a painter to represent well not only all the objects he has not seen, but also those 314 A SCH1ZZ0 ON THE those he has not designed. If he has not seen a lion he can never paint one; and if he has seen one, he will always paint it imperfectly, unless he first designs it after nature, or after another man's works. For this reason we ought not to blame a painter, who, having never seen or studied the obje6l he is to represent, makes use of ano- ther man's studies, rather than draw something false out of his own head. It is necessary he should have his examples in his memory, or his table- book; his own, I say, or those of ano- ther man. (f When a painter has furnished his mind with images of the beautiful things he has seen, he adds to, or di- minishes them according to his go&t, or GENIUS OF MAN. 2 l S or as his judgment directs. This change arises by comparing the ideas of what he has seen one with the other, and choosing that which he thinks best. For example, Raphael in his youth, while he lived with his master Perughio, had only the ideas of the works of that painter in his mind, but afterwards comparing them with those of Michael Angclo, and with the antique he chose that which seemed best to him, and out of it formed a refined gusto, such as we now see in all his produclions. £C Thus genius makes use of the memory as a vessel, wherein it keeps all the ideas that present themselves to it. The painter chooses those that are for his purpose by the help of his judgment, 3 1 6 A SCHIZZO ON THE judgment, and treasures them up in a magazine, out of which he takes them as occasion requires. It was out of such a magazine (if I may so express myself) that Raphael took all those high ideas which he had drawn from the antique \ and thus Aibej-t Durer and Lucas van Ley den drew from theirs those Gothick ideas with which the practice of their time, and the nature of their country, furnished them. GENIUS OF MAN. J] 9 truth, and there is no fear of its being sapped by falsehood. But now that our young genius is gone to Italy, to study perfeft models of the works of art, to behold those stupendous and magnificent scenes of ever-varying nature, in a country and climate so widely different from our own 3 there are yet those who condemn him for the project, perhaps (for such is often the perversenesss of human nature) by those very people, who, if he had not gone, would have said, tc Why does he not go to Italy, the t£ only school in the world for artists? " Mr. Spackman only keeps him in being called from Crete, by advice of the oracle, to Sparta, cured a raging pestilence by the same means. Jt is said that Clytcmnestra had her vicious inclina- tions to unchastity corrected by the applications of musicians ;* and a virtuous woman is said to have * Qg€iy» of which sex ! 346 A SCHIZZO ON THE As to his drinking, it is very pardon- able in a soldier, amid the toils of war, sometimes to sacrifice to the jolly, rosy, diverted the wicked design of two rakes that as- saulted her, by ordering a piece of music to be per- formed in the Spondean mode ! The Spartans were the bravest people in Greece, yet very sensible of the advantage of fighting with a cool and deliberate courage ; therefore, as Gellius out of Thucydides reports, they used not in their armies instruments of a more vehement sound, that might inflame their temper, and make them more furious, as the tuba, cornu, and lituus, but the more gentle and moderate sounds and modulations of the tibia, that their minds being more composed they might engage with a more rational courage ! This is one of the most glorious, liberal, and generous sentiments, recorded in history ! Would to God that the tibia and all the good effects of the ancient music could be revived, in order to re- strain the brutal rage of the French nation, and excite them to deeds of more magnanimity and honour, than to wreak their vengeance upon a mi- serable, captive king, who was not the author of their misfortunes ! ! honest- GENIUS OF MAN. 347 honest-faced god! Victory or defeat alike demand it I besides, Alexander was early taught that Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain: Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the Soldier' $ pleasure ! ! f The conduct of the Lacedaemonians to this same Timotheus, shews in what high veneration they held their ancient music and instruments ! The following is a curious piece of antiquity, pre- served in Boethius, a Lacedaemonian Senatus Consultum, against poor Timotheus's instrument, which had so enraptured the Conqueror of the world! " Whereas Timotheus, the Milesian, coming to our city, has deformed the ancient mu- sic; and laying aside the use of the seven- stringed lyre, and introducing a multiplicity of notes, en- deavouring to corrupt the ears of our youth by means of these his novel and complicated conceits, which he calls chromatic ; by him employed in the room of our established, orderly, and simple music ; and whereas, &c. ... It therefore seemeth good to us, the King and Ephori, after having cut off the superfluous strings of his age, and leaving only seven 34-8 A SCHIZZO ON THE Not that I am of opinion with the author of a popular song, who says Alexander hated thinking, and con- quered seven thereon, to banish the said Timotheus out of our dominions, that every one, beholding the wholesome severity of this city, may be deterred from bringing in amongst us any unbecoming cus- toms," &c.H! It is singular that the Egyptians were not only as tenacious of their national music as the Lace- daemonians, but also in respect to the imitative arts of painting and statuary! Diodorus Siculus says, that it was not the custom among the Egyp- tians to learn music, for that they looked upon it not only as useless, but noxious, being persuaded that it rendered the mind of man effeminate! but I will certainly rather take the word of the im- mortal Plato, who, having travelled into Egypt, says, " The plan which we have been laying down for the education of youth, was known long ago to the Egyptians, viz. that nothing but beauti- ful forms and fine music should be permitted to enter into the assemblies of young people ; having settled what those forms and music should be, they exhibited GENIUS OF MAN. 349 quered the world more by his drinking than by any other virtue he possessed! His philosophical correspondence with Aristotle will sufficiently evince that he thought 1 his knowledge of ta6tics, and cool intrepidity in battle, shew that his mind was untainted with madness, and his brain with the fumes of wine! But Alexander so entirely loved the art of paintings that he stu- died design himself under the great Apelles, and frequently spent many hours to see him paint, and converse with him in private! And such was his opinion of Apelles's superior ex- exhibited them in their temples ; nor was it allow- able for painters, or other imitative artists, to inno- vate or invent any forms different from that which were established ; nor is it now lawful, either in painting, statuary, or any of the branches of music, to make any alteration ! ! ! cellence, 35° A SCHIZZO ON THE cellence, that he published an edict, that no person should presume to paint any likeness of him but Apel- les in pifture, and Phidias in sta- tuary: This was vanity in Alex- ander, who was flattered because they had represented him as the thundering Jove, and thought it presumption in painters of inferior merit to daub any likeness of his godship! I hope my readers will pardon this trifling euloge of the celebrated con- queror of the world! The reason of introducing his name was because the art of painting arrived to its greatest perfe&ion in his time - y although the art is said to have flourished a few years before his father Philip's reign, yet his son Alexander saw it brought to GENIUS OF MAN. J5 1 to maturity, no doubt by his great liberality in giving it patronage; for after his death, we no more read of such great painters as an Apelles, a Protogenes, or a Zeuxis, &c. &c. It then began to decline in Greece!** when, no doubt, for want of cultiva- tion, through the rich tillage of pa- tronage, " Full many a flower was born to blush unseen, " And waste its fragrance on the desart air." * And found its way to Rome, as no doubt it did formerly from Egypt to Greece, of which, how- ever, there are no traces left. Thus history makes but three ages in which painting arrived to a degree of perfection; the first, as I have before menti- oned, in Philip and Alexander's reign, up- wards of 360 years before the birth of Christ - t the second was in the reign of Augustus Caesar, during the life of Christ; and the third was in the pontificate of Julius II. and Leo X. in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries : Some make a fourth, commencing with Poussin, and continuing to J5 2 A SCHIZZO ON THE In such high veneration was this art held by the ancients, that we read to the end of Louis XlVth's reign ! I hope fu- ture historians will add a fifth, which flourished under the patronage and munificence of George the Third. It appears then we date the perfection of the art of painting to be not quite 2200 years; but surely we have no right to suppose that the Egyptians had not this art in high perfection. Most historians agree that the Greeks borrowed their knowledge from them ; and it is well known to what great perfection the Egyptians brought architecture, carving, statuary, gilding, &c. &c. It is hardly possible then to imagine that they had not painting in high perfection also ; and I presume it was only from their prodigious antiquity that they were not handed down to the Greeks and Romans. Nor den, in his Voyage en Egypt e, speaking of some hieroglyphics upon certain obelisks, says, he beheld them at a distance with admiration, and when near, that the colours had a most charming effect ! It is surprising, says he, to see how the gold, the ultramarine, and other colours, have preserved their brilliancy to this time ! This is a proof they un- derstood colours at least ! GENIUS OF MAN. 353 of a large army attacking one of the cities of Greece; the general of which determined to fire the town, being the only means of reducing it; but, in the mean time being told that a famous pifture of Protogenes was in the city, and consequently would perish in the flames, he resolved to raise the siege, rather than the pifture should be destroyed! Few generals we should find, in this enlightened age,* who are such amateurs of painting as to prefer the saving of a pi£ture to the glory of taking a city ! This famous pic- ture Protogenes was seven years in painting; it might not, however, have been the better for so much labour, if what has been handed down to us be * Rather obscured a little lately by some infernal Panckemonian events on the other side of the water ! A a true, 354 A SCHIZZO ON THE true, that he often dispirited his pic- tures by not knowing when to leave off. The pifture is said by one author to have been painted for Talysus, but I think it must have been Jalissus, who is named by several authors, though all are silent as to their history. It is said that painting was brought to such perfeftion in Greece, that some of the great painters (among whom is mentioned Zeuxis) thought they could receive no money equal to the worth of their pictures, and ac- cordingly they made presents of them ! Pliny says, that Attalus, king of Pergamus, bought a picture, which was taken at the siege of Corinth, for which he paid sixty thousand sesterces! It was painted by Aristides, the famous GENIUS OF MAN.. 3£5 famous Theban, who is said by Pliny to have been the first who expressed the movements of the soul in painting ! the subjeft was a sick man: — zperish- able piece of work for the immense price of one hundred talents ! but the General who gained Corinth, thinking that there must be some charm or magic* in this pi&ure, took it again A a 2 from * As I have entered so much into pictures, which to me is a subject so pleasing and copious, that I find myself not readily disposed to quit it — I beg leave to add a very curious anecdote, which is recorded by Aubrey, in his Ostenta or Portents^ printed in 1696. " Sir Walter Long's widow, (of Draycot, Wilts) did make a solemn promise to him on his death-bed, that she would not marry after his de- cease; but not long after, one Sir Wm. Fox, a very beautiful young gentleman, did win her love ; so that notwithstanding her promise aforesaid, she married him: — she married him at South- Wraxal, where 35^ A SCHIZZO ON THE from Pergamus, and placed it in the temple of Ceres at Rome. This is mentioned by Pliny in his Natural History, lib. xxxv. cap. 8. The Emperor Tiberius, it is said, paid for one pifture equal to the where the picture of Sir Walter Long hung over the parlour door, as it doth now at Draycot. As Sir Wm. Fox led his bride by the hand from the church (which is near to the house) into the parlour, the string of the picture brake, and the picture fell on her shoulder, and cracked in the fall, (it was painted on wood, as the fashion was in those days) This made her ladyship reflect on her promise, and drew tears from her eyes ! ! !" And as picture is said to speak, (although com- monly used in another sense) the following is re- corded of Archbishop Laud; that the picture of himfelf, in his closet, fell down the day of the fitting of that parliament which condemned him to lose his head. — This is mentioned in Canterbury's doom, by Wm.Prynn^ a well-known furious close- dipt presbyterian, who was instrumental in bring- ing the Archbishop to the block. GENIUS OF MAN. 357 astonishing sum of one hundred and fifty Roman pounds of silver. It is not, however, said who was the artist, or what the subjedl was. The Romans had such a respeft for the art of painting, that they honoured the family of the Fabii with the sur- name of PiBores, from one of their ancestors being a great painter, and adorning some of the temples of Rome with his beautiful paintings ! Demos- thenes the Greek orator, Metroderus the philosopher, and Pacuvius the poet, were painters! Julius Ccesar was a great admirer, and extremely fond of piftures, and understood design! Suetonius says, that Nero the em- peror designed and executed relievos to a considerable degree of perfection. A a 3 Charles 35^ A SCHIZZO ON THE Charles I. took such delight in painting, that he frequently spent se- veral hours with Vandyke ; remarking upon his works, and giving him such hints as much contributed to their excellence. Even our Henry VIII.* * I must here be permitted to take the opportu- nity of doing myself justice as an impartial Biogra- pher, in speaking of the vices of King Henry VIII. whose blood (somewhat indeed, I trust, purified from the tide of time) still flows in our family! as thus: — The father of Sir yohn Harington, who was in the tower with Queen Elizabeth, and whom I have before mentioned in page 173, married a natural daughter of Henry's .* This John H. was my fourth great grandfather; consequently Henry VIII. was my fifth great grandfather ! vide Nugce Antique, published by my late much re- gretted brother, of Queen's College, Oxford; * This daughter of Henry's was named Etheldred T udor Dingley. We have a portrait of her in high preserva- tion ! She is an ugly likeness of old Harry ! but her estates were very fair! {vide page 176) To those may be added a large estate called Nyland, which her son the witty Sir John ; H. I GENIUS OF MAN. tyrannical, lustful, and cruel, as he was, had a taste for painting; he gave much encouragement to Hans Holbein, and invited the greatRAPHAEL andTiTiAN to England ; and, although they de- clined the honour, they nevertheless whose volumes the late Dr. Granger, author of Biographical Anecdotes, mentions as deferving a better title than Aniient Trifles! and the late Dr. Johnson so much esteemed them as to express a wish that a fourth volume might be published; which is only in my father's power to do ; and I hope he will. As I have been speaking of King Henry, let me add, that he was an excellent musi- cian ; and composed two good anthems ! I pre- H. afterwards sold ! and a while after he was travelling over the same estate, he said to his man John, « All this Nyland " Was once my land." John, whose talent for humour was undoubtedly found pleasing to his master, replied, Sir, " If you had had more wit, «< It might have been your's yet:" which answer, to use the Knight's own words, " lets us see, M there is often craft in the clouted shoe." 360 A SCHIZZO ON THE painted several pi6hires for him, par- ticularly the latter, who is said to have taken more pains in finishing his pic- tures for Henry „ than he ever did for any other person; they were probably not the better for so much nice finish- ing-, it frequently destroys that bold- ness and freedom of style which ought to distinguish the hand of a great master ! sume he turned his mind to this species of compo- sition from his father designing him for the church during his brother Arthur % life. It is universally known he studied and understood theological dis- quisition, having written a work entitled De septan Sacramentis, in answer to Martin Luther, who attacked Thomas Aquinas, and denied the Pope's supremacy. He was also a poet ; and surely never did a gallant poet write stronger love verses than Henry did to his mistress, which may be seen in JVuga Antique. One cannot but lament that such an accomplished man was a tyrannical rascal ! ! The GENIUS OF MAN. j6l The Emperor Charles V. the for- tunate rival of Francis I. of France, (though not half so amiable a charac- ter as Francis) yet much encouraged painting and engraving 5 and although engaged in almost continual wars, yet he studied design, and understood engraving; and so greatly honoured and rewarded Titian, that it is said some of the noblemen about his court expressed some jealousy that he should give so much preference to a painter I to which he replied, " that he could never want a court, or courtiers, but he could not have a T'itian always with him I" He made him a nobleman, and settled a large pension upon him. — When Titian painted a pifture for Charles, he always returned a large sum of money for it, with the follow- ing 362 A SCHIZZO ON THE ing obliging address:—" That his de- sign was not to pay him the value of his piftures, because they were above any price!" And one day taking up a pencil that fell from the hand of Titian, who was then drawing his picture, upon the compliment which 'Titian made him upon the occasion, he said, " Titian has deserved to be served by Ccesarl" An answer of Francis I. is something similar; when some of his courtiers advised him not to give way to his grief at the death of Leonardo cle Vinci-, (who is well known to have died in the arms of Francis) he replied, £c I can make a thousand of you, but God only can make a painter !" It is well known how highly ho- noured the great Rubens was, not only GENIUS OF MAN". 363 only in his own country, but also in France and England. He was invited to Paris by Mary de Medicis, who used to sit and see him paint for hours to- gether: She herself designed, and had some instruction in painting from him! Our Charles I. honoured him with knighthood, and entrusted him with an embassy. He amassed a noble for- tune, and was so fortunate as to marry three of the most amiable and beautiful women in Europe ! ! Some other great artists have also been honoured, es- teemed, and rewarded, in this country* such as Vandyke, Peter Lely, Thornhill, Reynolds, &c.&c. But were I to go on in this way to prove the sublimity of the art of painting, and how much encouraged it 364 A SCHIZZO ON THE it has been, by great men in various ages of the world, the subject would not be exhausted in writing several volumes, for fee." Sir J. H. was himself fond of pic- tures, he was a polite scholar,* a man * The learned Fuller says, that he was a compleat poet in every thing saving his large pos- sessions j and the great Dryden ranks him among the first reformers of the English language ! But, compleat poet and polite scholar as he was, he did not scruple to write a humourous and witty book upon water-closets^ in which are a great number of windy and other unsavory stories ! My Father t hus mentions it in the life he has written of him : " A. D. 3^0 A SCHIZZO ON THE of wit, was conversant with Queen Elizabeth's court, and had seen much of the world; we must therefore be- lieve he could not have been much deceived as to the real merit of Ni- cholas Hilliard. It appears then the more surpri- sing, as all arts and sciences are handed down to us piogressively, by easy gra- dations, that so great a genius should have been almost unique in his line, u A.D. 1596, we find another little work of Sir yobn's, called the Metamorphosis of Ajax, other- wise called A-Jakes \ in this we see the great fer- tility of our author's merry and surprising genius, nor is his reading less conspicuous ; it is occasioned by nothing more than a new -invented water- closet ^ contrived by himself at Kelfton, near Bath! " This little work, which would not make more than an eighteen-penny or two shilling pamphlet, is now become so scarce as to sell for two guineas. — I know a gentleman who gave that sum for one ! f GENIUS OF MAN. 38 I and that as patronage is a constant spur to genius, it did not encourage other artists to emulation! I never had the pleasure of seeing any of the works of this celebrated Nicholas Hilliard ; but books have in- formed me that he did deserve the panegyric of Sir John H. I find him most honourably mentioned among the lives of the few English painters. It appears that he was goldsmith, carver, and limner, to Queen Eliza- beth, whose pi6ture he drew several times, particularly once, when he made a whole length of her sitting on her throne, which piece was deservedly esteemed. He drew Mary queen of Scots, in water-colours, when she was but eighteen years of age, a most beautiful 3^2 A SCHIZZO ON THE beautiful pifture, and wherein he succeeded to admiration, and gained a general applause. I find Dr. Donne mentions him in one of his poems called the Storm : " A hand and eye, By Hilliard drawn, is worth a history!" I also learn, that about eighty years ago some of his piftures were in the possession of the family of the Fan- shaws, and, although not much larger than a crown-piece, were estimated (at that time) at fifty guineas each! It is said that not only the faces are finely coloured, with a good relievo, but also the heads and beards are so admirably performed, that almost every single hair is expressed. Two minia- tures, which he did of the Queen and his father, it is said, were alone suffi- cient GENIUS OF MAN. 383 cient to preserve the memory of this great artist ! And now one should yet have ima- gined that the aera of great painters had commenced in England, for a few years after the great Samuel Cooper flourished! he was so great in little that he was called the Vandyke in little! His pifrures are in as much esteem in Rome, Venice, and in France, as they are in England. He painted a pidture of Cromwell, for which Louis XIV. offered 150I. but it was refused by the then owner Richard Graham, esq. I believe this is the very pifture that is now in the pos- session of Mr. Dashwood of Devon- shire, together with another (I think) of Olivers daughter. These two pic- tures 3^4 A SCHIZZO ON THE tures I have seen, and utterly despair of ever seeing such perfection in mini- ature again! Mr. Dasbwcod told me 300I. had been offered for them, which was refused! still he said he had not such a vast regard for the memory of Cromwell, hut that he should be tempt- ed to dispose of them; and I know that about two years ago they were then to be sold. Since the departure of these two great artists, I believe, we have had none to compare with them in the line of miniature painting !! ! . ' '4^'- V A celebrated author, after exhibit- ing a long catalogue of great men in various arts and sciences, feelingly ob- serves, that there are no great painters ! " Yet, he says, he does not despair that future writers may name many ! But, continues GENIUS OF MAN. 385 continues he, as it is in nature, where from the seed is first produced the blade, then the green ear, and lastly the ripe corn; so national virtues sprout up first in less excellencies, and pro- ceed by an easy gradation. Greece and Rome had not painting and sculpture in their perfeftion till after they had exerted their natural vigour in lesser instances ¥' And this I think has been brought to pass in England ; she has seen the virtues of her sons sprout up, first in less excellencies, till by an easy and natural gradation, like the sons of Greece and Rome, she has seen her promising buds expand and open themselves to a perfeft bloom ! Oar national vigour has not only been exerted in minor instances, bat in the greatest, — in war, in politics, and in C c science! 3^6 A SCHIZZO ON THE science! But as in bodies natural, so in bodies artificial, they may arrive to mature vigour ', may remain •stationary for some time, yet their total extinc- tion* is also certain, and which may be accelerated by violent means, long before their natural end would have arrived through a long succession of ages, as in Egypt they naturally decayed through their prodigious antiquity! But in Athens, and Rome, they were cut off, when brought to maturity, by the sacrilegious hands of barbarous conquerors ! Somewhat different, per- haps, may be the fate of the arts and * " It is very remarkable, that even in countries capable of inspiring every kind of genius, there have been barren ages, in which the liberal arts, and the genius that produced them, declined to such a degree, as to seem in the course of the next to be wholly lost." sciences GENIUS OF MAN, 387 sciences in France; they probably will be cut off by an unnatural mother, who, having cherished and reared her tender offspring, and brought them to maturity, with savage heart embrues her polluted hands in the blood of her once favourite sons and daughters ! ! ! Oh ! unhappy country, by what cruel daemon are ye tormented ? But to conclude: If this country does not now be- hold the science of painting fully pointing towards its meridian height of glory, it has either passed us, like a summer's sun, whose genial rays cannot penetrate the grossness of our atmosphere, or it has been forced like an exotic, and reared by the fostering hand of cultivation to the greatest C c 2 possible 388 A SCHIZZO ON THE possible perfe&ion it can ever attain in this rainy \ cloud-capt climate I Yet as sometimes it is found that fruit, and even plants, have arrived to as much perfe6tion in the English hot-house as in the soil of their native climate, so do I think painters may be now found in the latitude of 52, who would not have disgraced that of 30 at any pe- riod !* This * The gentleman who translated Dolce, says, " True genius in the liberal arts seems now to have visited this island, and taken up her resi- dence among us ; several English artists have, in our exhibitions, made it evident, that some of the principal merits of historical painting (in particular design and composition) may be comprised in the space of a cabinet picture. Although I wish to avoid mentioning living artists by name, that I may not give umbrage to any, yet, lest those who have not seen our exhibitions should esteem this only to proceed from partiality, and a desire of making a state of the arts here to appear other than it re- ally is, I cannot help producing, as' instances, the Regulus, GENIUS OF MAN. 389 This country, then, having seen all her other excellencies in arts and sciences fully estabished, it is highly probable that painting is also arrived to its full standard ! It possibly may ebb and flow a little \ but before she takes her flight from our island, it is exceed- ing probable she will long remain with us, and flourish with a considerable degree of perfection; for since the in- stitution of the Royal Academy, an in- finitely more general knowledge and taste for painting has diffused itself throughout the kingdom ! There are Regulus, Jacob blessing Joseph's Children, Cleombrutus, kc. of Mr. West; — an artist whose works would have done honour to Rome, even in the time of Raphael and Titian ! The appeal might safely be laid with any person of taste and judgment, whether these and many other of our modern works do not fully prove this assertion !" better 39° A SCHIZZO ON THE better artists, more gentlemen of connoissance, and more liberal encou- ragers of the art, than very probably can be found in any other country! — An English school, forming a fifth age in the perfeftion of painting, {from the time of Philip of Mace don) has been long foretold and expected, but that bright aera has been reserved for the mild and happy reign of our august and amiable Sovereign George III. under whose munificent patronage this art has been brought to perfection in our island, and has illuftrated THE GENIUS OF MAN ! ! ! FINIS. ERRATA. Page 26, 1. 2, for emerging read immerging. 37, 1. 17, after artists, insert viz. 37, lad line but one, after may, insert not. 71, 1. 3, of the note, for is, read are. 88, 1. 1, for ever, read never* 102, laft line of the note, omit not. 113, 1. 7, for Isto, read Ista. 189, 1. 9, for diabates, read diabetes. 210, 1. 7, for tinges, read 252, I. 7, for conspire, read conspires. 256, last line of the note, for i/W, read 276, 1. last but one, for who, read whom. 302, 1. 4, of the note, for is, read are. 307, 1. 3, of the note, for it, read them. 341. I. last but one of the note, omit that. Ditto, in lines 5 and 8, for can, read canst. 369, 1. 2, after sooner, insert he. 372, 1. 4, of the note, for we, read^ou. 373, 1. 7, of the note, for intolerable, read intemperate f 389, 1. 13, for have, read has. 390, 1. 13, for to, reado/". 163, 1. 1, for ecret, read ecrit. 1. 2, for f/ii read e/tf. 1. 4, for n'y avoit, read 'y eut. 1. 8, for entendre, read interpreter. 1. 9, for u;