Ulrich Middeldorf 
 
THE 
 
 AWT OF FAIMTIMG, 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 OF PORTRAITURE. 
 
 Emblem, Concerning the Treatment of Portraits. 
 
 ATURE, represented by her many breasts, is sitting. Near her stands a child 
 lifting her garments off her shoulders. On her other side stands Truth, holding a 
 mirror before her, wherein she views herself down to the middle, and is seemingly 
 surprised at it. On the frame of this glass are seen a gilt pallet and pencils. Truth 
 has a book and palm branch in her hand. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF POETEAITS JN GENERAL. 
 
 Since we meet with no presidence in the art, nor pretend to nsst on ceremonies, 
 we shall treat of things as they occur to us, and as clearly and profitably as possible. 
 
 But first, give me leave to say, that I have often wondered how any man can pre- 
 fer slavery to liberty, and, by departing from the essence of the art, subject himself 
 to all the defects of nature. I speak of such great masters as VanPyk, Lely, Van, 
 Loo, the old and young Eakker, and others, who though possessed of great talents in 
 the art, postponed what is noble and beautiful, for what is more ordinary and com- 
 
 VOL. II. B 
 
2 
 
 Of Fortraiture, 
 
 mon. The trutli is, and we have seen, that sooner by this means than others, men 
 have obtained the honour of gold medals and chains, &c. Nay, the liberty of pre- 
 scribing laws to princes ; staring them in the face, drawing their pictures, and many 
 other privileges, whereby they have acquired great riches. What an unheard-of 
 reward did not Apelles receive, when Alexander gave him his dear Campaspe, in 
 order to save the life of that great artist, by satisfying his love, inflamed by drawing 
 the picture of that beauty ! When I consider these things, I am surprised that all 
 painters do not devote themselves wholly to portraiture ; since now-a-days money is 
 preferred to learning, lucre to virtue, and honours dispensed to men in proportion to 
 their riches. But, leaving this subject, we will proceed thoroughly to consider every 
 thing relating to that branch of the art. 
 
 As in music and singingagood ear is requisite, so in portraiture it is impossible to 
 excel without a good eye ; such an one, I mean, as is governed by sedate and sober 
 sensation, and not by self-love or passion. Next is required a regular design, con- 
 taining an exact proportion or division of the parts, not only of the face, but of the 
 whole body, that the sitter may be known by his picture, which may be most agree- 
 ably done by mixing the fashion with what is painter-like; as the great JLely did, and 
 which is called the painter-like or antique manner, but by the ignorant commonality, 
 the Roman manner. 
 
 Next ; we must be thoroughly judicious in the graceful choice of the light, and the 
 place where the person is to sit, that the face may appear to the best advantage ; 
 and then the body is to be disposed to the most natural and becoming posture. 
 
 The next business, and which gives it the greatest lustre, is, the colouring, that 
 each person and his parts may have their proper colour, and such as appears in his 
 daily converse ; not such as proceeds from extraordinary emotions. Let the artist 
 beware of inclining to any particular manner, like some, whose work is thereby 
 better known to be'theirs, than the friends of the sitter know the picture to be his. 
 
 As for the choice of light, in order to apply it most advantageously for the benefit 
 of either sex, it is certainly a matter of great moment ; since the fair sex commonly 
 partake of more delicacy and grace than men, so they must have a light as beautiful 
 and agreeable as their persons. 
 
 But ere we proceed further, it will not be improper to look into the origin of por- 
 traits, in order thereby to shew the aim of those who cause themselves to be drawn, 
 and the profits which masters get thereby. 
 
 The ancients used to cause those, from whom the commonwealth had received 
 extraordinary benefits, either in war or civil aflTairs, or for eminence in religion, to 
 be represented in marble or metal, or in a picture, that the sight of them, by those . 
 honours, might be a spnr to posterity to emulate the same virtnesl. This honour was 
 
3 
 
 Of Portraiture. 
 
 first begun with their deities : afterwards it was paid to heroes, and of consequence to 
 philosophers, orators, religious men, and others, not only to perpetuate their virtues,’ 
 but also to embalm their names and memories. But now it goes further ; a person 
 of any condition whatsoever, have he but as much money as the painter asks, 
 must sit for his picture : this is a great abuse, and sprung from as laudable a cause. 
 
 In noblemen indeed it is a very commendable custom ; because, being descended 
 from great families, the lustre of these ought to shine, to encourage their successors 
 to keep up their glory, and to prevent sullying it by unworthy actions. 
 
 As for general or admiral^ who has died in the bed of honour, gratitude, I think 
 obliges us to raise a monument to his glory, and to animate brave souls in future times, 
 to imitate his virtue. But what is this to the vulgar; pride Only spurs them to it. 
 The rich do it that their children may boast of it ; the master of a numerous family 
 does it, that the world may know he is a father : he who has fired a magazine Of the 
 enemy must be drawn, with this great action, though perhaps there was no body to 
 hinder him. Has a citizen’s wife but an only babe, he is drawn at half a year old ; 
 at ten years old he sits again ; and, for the last time, in his twenty-fifth year, in order 
 to shew her tender folly; and then she stands wondering how a man can so alter in 
 that time. Is not this a weighty reasOn ? A reproveable custom, if painters did not 
 gain by it. But, again, portraits are allowable, when a lover is absent from his 
 mistress, that they may send each other their pictures, to cherish and increase their 
 loves ; a man and wife so parted may do the same. 
 
 But to return to the original matter: I must warn the artists not to yield too much 
 to what is common ; or humour ignorant people So much, aS not to reserve to them- 
 selves some liberty of doing what they think proper for the sake of reputation : 
 surely this cannot be strange advice; for a master who prefers money before art has 
 no more dangerous a rock to split on, since the ignorant multitude usually insist to 
 
 he drawn according to their own conceits. One says to a good master, “ Draw 
 
 me thus, or thus; let me have one hand On my breast, and the other on a table:’ 
 another must have a flower in his hand, or a flower-pot must be by him ; another 
 must have a dog, or other creature, in his lap ; another will have his face turned 
 this or that way ; and Some who would be drawn in the Roman manner, must be set 
 off by a globe or a clock on the table, whether such ornaments be proper or not. On 
 mentioning the Roman manner, I find that it signifies a loose, airy undress, somewhat 
 favouring of the mode, but in no wise agreeing with the ancient Roman habit. 
 
 But many other inconveniences attend portraiture ; as first, the ignorance of those 
 who sit ; for some of them, having no right notion of their own mien and shape, often 
 refer the judgment of a fine portrait to the eye of a child, or servant; and what they 
 say. Monsieur and Madam believe, either to its praise, or discommendation. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 Of For trait tire, 
 
 A second inconveniency arises from a wedded inclination which any one has to 
 such and such objects ; judging as they like or dislike, not only of pictures, but 
 even the life itself ; for though they may be afraid to pass sentence on a fine history 
 or landscape, yet a portrait must not escape them, as thinking it within the reach of 
 their capacities. 
 
 Thirdly, we find many artists never pleased with other mens works, but being full 
 of themselves despise every thing they see, though as good as their own ; and this 
 perhaps on no better foundation than a pique against the artist; or else because of 
 his great fame : and yet if ten persons happen to applaud a fine picture of this en- 
 vied master, they will at that juncture chime in with them, to screen their prejudice. 
 And, on the contrary, if but a single person afterwards find fault, they immediately 
 turn the tables against ten others. Again, if a piece of their friend be brought in 
 question, though never so faulty, they will applaud and justify it at any rate, 
 though against their own convictions of conscience. But this partial and prejudiced 
 humour is most prevalent in those who know least. 
 
 A fourth set of men are those, who, being always of an uneasy temper, dislike 
 their own, but applaud every thing other men do : these, indeed, are not so noxious 
 as the former, because they only hurt themselves, Avhereas the others hurt every 
 body. 
 
 Fifthly, there are a prejudiced set of men who find no taste but in easy and grave 
 airs and postures ; others in stirring and hurrying ones ; others in violent ones : some 
 think that womens draperies ought to be loose and soft ; others will have them of 
 velvet or satin, or else party coloured : this thinks that a dark or brown ground best 
 sets off a figure ; another chuses a landscape, or green curtain, right or wrong. Are 
 the colours beautifully chosen, the picture smells of them; are they broken, they 
 seem muddy and foul. How can a portrait please so many opinions ? It is not like 
 a history full of figures, where we can introduce variety of sedate and stirring action, 
 more or less beautiful colouring, loose to set draperies, dark or light grounds, &c. 
 Because thisis but a sin gle figure. 
 
 Our business, then, must be to find a]way between Sylla and CharyhdiSf to enable the 
 artist to paint a good portrait ; for he who makes due reflection on every thing, can 
 prepare himself to overcome the aforesaid difficulties. 
 
Of Tortraiture. 
 
 5 
 
 CHAP. IJ. 
 
 OF THE DEFECTS IlST THE FACE AND OTHER PARTS. 
 
 The defects, which are seen in nature, or in simple life, are three-folch 
 
 1. Natural ones. 
 
 2. Accidental ones. 
 
 3. Usual ones. 
 
 The natural ones are, a wry face, squint eyes, wry mouth, nose, &c. 
 
 The accidental ones are, loss of an eye, a cut on the cheek or other part of the 
 face ; pits of the small pox, and the like. 
 
 The usual ones are, those habits to which we accustom ourselves from our infancy; 
 to wit, contraction of the eyes and mouth, or closing, or gaping of the latter, or 
 drawing it in somewhat to this or that side, upwards or downwards, &c. 
 
 As for other bodily infirmities, how many have wry necks, hunch backs, bandy 
 legs, withered or short arms, or one shorter than the other ; dead or lame hands or 
 fingers? among these, some are unavoidable, and others maybe either left out, or 
 handsomely concealed. The necessary ones ought to be seen, because they help the 
 likeness ; such as a wry face, squint eyes, low forehead, thinness and fatness, a wry 
 neck, too short or too long a nose, wrinkles between the eyes, ruddiness or paleness 
 of the cheeks, or lips, pimph s or worts about the mouth, and such like ; among 
 those which may be hidden, or left out, I count a blind eye, a wound, wen, mole, 
 pits of small pox, too many pimples, &c. a red, blue, or hairy spot ; as also habitual 
 usages ; such as hanging lips, pinchings or drawings of the mouth and eyes. 
 
 I think, also, that the common and usual dress of a person is a great addition to 
 likeness; for no sooner is the dress altered, but the look does the same, and shews 
 itself either more or less pleasing and agreeable ; and thereby the person becomes 
 more or less known ; to obviate which, I advise the artist above all things to get first 
 a true likeness of the face, and paint it to the sitter’s satisfaction ; and then he may 
 freely manage all the rest as he thinks fit, and thereby get honour and commendation ; 
 since the life itself in such a dress cannot any more alter. 
 
 The painter should likewise discover and know, as much as possible, the nature 
 and temper of the person sitttng, and in what circumstances lies his favourite plea* 
 sure ; that he may, when sitting, be entertained with talk pleasing to him, and his 
 air thereby kept steady and serene, and his posture natural and easy ; avoiding 
 every thing tending to w^ards sorrow or frightful relations ; for these are apt to ruffle 
 the mind, and so to discompose the face, that it cannot easily be got right again i 
 
6 
 
 Of Portraiture, 
 
 but if the sitter himself do by his talk discover his own disposition, the painter 
 ought to humour it to the last, wh» ther if be jocose or moderate, without exaggeration 
 or diminution ; yet with such a variety, as not to prove tiresome, and make the face 
 alter. 
 
 He who cannot thus manage and furnish out a discourse, will be the longer ere he 
 arrive at the likeness. Some will even sit three or four times, and each time with 
 a different air ; and, were they to sit ten times, I fancy something new would still 
 appear. 
 
 Another hindrance may be, that painting-rooms are often hung with such smutty 
 pictures as frequently put females to the blush, or alter their countenances. But 
 though, for improvement, fine pictures are necessary to be always in view, yet in a 
 painting-room there ought not to hang the wanton picture of Mars and Venus caught 
 by Vulcan; or Dinas bathing, though done by Van Dyk, or Joseph 2iHii Potiphars 
 wife ; for though these may hang in a corner, yet when the eye has once observed 
 them, it will retain them ; because their ideas make continual impressions on the 
 mind, even against its will ; and therefore the bare remembrance of such things 
 must put a young and chaste virgin to the blush. Must it not create a longing, to 
 see a picture of two beggar-boys fall greedily on ripe fruit, the one eagerly biting a 
 piece of fresh melon, and the other a bunch of grapes, with the juice falling down 
 his chin on his naked breast? the room then should be hung with every thing 
 modest, as fine landscapes and flower-pieces, which will amuse the sight without 
 disturbing or tiring the mind, or altering the countenance ; fine portraits will also 
 animate a sitter to keep him serene, and make him emulous of their manners : a 
 large looking-glass may be likewise of service, if so hung that the sitter can see him- 
 self in it ; for, thereby discovering any disagreeableness in his look, he will correct 
 himself, in order to have as good an air as he desires ; and by such methods as these 
 a painter may become great. 
 
 We will now proceed to consider how many mistakes some painters commit in 
 relation to the first observation of natural defects ; these endeavour, to their utmost 
 power, to express punctually the deformities and defects of a face, without scruple ; 
 to wit, a blind or defective eye, or the like, though they know that it is an enemy to 
 grace, and on no other ground than a false belief that it creates a greater likeness. 
 But who loves to be reproached with his defects, when they can be artfully hidden? 
 what would become of grace, which teaches, that a painter should make as beautiful 
 a choice as possible ; which these blemishes obscure. I think, therefore, that we 
 cannot lay too great a stress on what concerns the make, position, and turn of a face, 
 that the eye be not offended with blemish, or deformity, or the posture look dis- 
 agi-eeable. 
 
7 
 
 Of FortraitU7'e. 
 
 How nionstrous is the picture of a certain admiral, who seems to stab himself with 
 his staff of command, and has a defective eye turned directly to the light ; because, 
 according to the saying, he is best known by it. Would not a more profile view 
 have suited him better, or to have flung the side with the blind eye into shade ? 
 would it not be ridiculous to paint the Duke of Luxemburg in profile, to represent 
 him the better, and that his hunch-back might be the more visible, for no other rea- 
 son, than that most people knew he had one ? 
 
 Nature abhors deformity, and we cannot behold it without aversion, and a quick 
 turn of the eye from it: a squint-eyed person cannot see himself in the glass with- 
 out inward trouble ; especially one of the fair sex, who, in other respects, tolerably 
 handsome, cannot bear to see an instance of her deformity in another, but will bash- 
 fully look off or down to the ground. How much worse then must it look in a pic- 
 ture? the life maybe sometimes seen on a handsome side ; which in an ill chosen 
 picture we can never expect : whence it is natural for one who has a blemish or 
 defect in an eye or cheek, always to turn the best side to the light. In short, we do 
 not desire to do any thing, walk, stand, sit, talk, but with a becoming air. Have 
 we sore eyes, we hide them under our hats ; or if a lame hip, w'e endeavour to walk 
 briskly ; have we some humour or pimples in a cheek, we either hide them with a 
 patch, or paint the other side like it ; have we bad teeth, we keep the mouth shut ; 
 or a lame hand, and hide it not under our coats, or in our pockets. If nature acts 
 so, how can such defects please in a picture? such a flattery then as is agreeable to 
 art, is not only allowable, but commendable, especially when the sitter is so disposed 
 in posture, that the painter himself cannot perceive it. 
 
 Ask any one who wears a piece of black silk over an hollow eye, whether he de- 
 sires to be drawn from that side ; I believe not. A person with a wooden leg cares 
 not that the deformity should appear in a picture : such a one ought to be drawn 
 in half length only : but if the hero insist upon the introducing such a leg, on a sup- 
 position that it is an honour to have lost a limb in his country’s service, the painter 
 must then comply with his desires ; or else contrive it lying on a table covered with 
 red velvet : if he desires it after the antique manner, it must be contrived in a bass- 
 relief, wherein the occasion of it may be represented ; or it may hang near him on a 
 wall, with his buckles and straps, as is done in hunting equipages ; or else it may 
 be placed among the ornaments of architecture, to be more in view. But what praise 
 or advantage will an artist get by this, when a judicious master sees the picture? 
 he may perhaps plead in excuse, that the sitter would have it so. This indeed I 
 cannot argue against, because we usually say to whom we employ. Do as I would 
 have you, right or wrong. We have an instance of a gentleman, who being drawn 
 in little, and comparing the smallness of the eyes with his own, asked the painter. 
 
8 
 
 Of Fortraiture. 
 
 whether he had such ? however, in compliance, and for his pleasure, he desired that 
 one eye at least might be as big as his own ; the other to remain as it was. A sad 
 case ! a miserable subjection ! for though we cannot compel others to be of our opi- 
 nions, yet 1 pity those wlio must submit to incongruities. But, not to dishearten 
 the artist too much, we will proceed to, 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 > THE OBSERVABLES IN A PORTRAIT, PARTICULARLY THAT OF A 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Self-conceit and self-love seem natural to all, but especially to the female sex ; 
 ■who, whether their pictures are drawn on their own accounts, or through the desire 
 of others, imagine they deserve such homage ; nor stops it here for although they 
 may possess a tolerable share of beauty, yet that is not satisfactory enough ^ they 
 must be flattered, and their pictures painted in the most beautiful light; and un- 
 happy is the painter who abates but half a drachm of such a beauty. 
 
 For these reasons the master is obliged to have a principal regard to light and 
 colour; but to the light chiefly, since it is well known that nothing gives greater 
 offence to ignorant people than shades, and still more, when they are strong and 
 broad : they believe they speak to the purpose in objecting, well, how can it be pos- 
 sible that my neck and cheek should have such large shades, when 1 daily consult 
 my glass, and find my skin all of a colour and white? and then the painter is blamed. 
 But are not such reasons weak and absurd ? since, if a man, how tenacious soever, 
 meet another, who, by long absence and alteration of dress, is got out of his memory, 
 he will naturally turn him to the light, in order to know him and his features. This 
 conduct has been wonderfully observed by Barocci in his picture of 31ary paying a 
 visit to Elizabeth when big with child; in which, by his method of placing the 
 fio-ures and the attention of the faces, we seem to bear them talk, looking earnestly 
 at each other. 
 
 I think those masters have made the best choice who have chosen a front-light, 
 and thereby kept their colours most natural and beautiful ; since this light is cer- 
 tainly most advantageous, whether the picture hang against a wall, or where else. 
 But here seems to arise a difficulty, since we formerly said, that we ought to fix a 
 certain place, and the point of sight and distance, and to dispose the light so as it 
 can fall on that place ; to which the answer is easy; portraits have no fixed place, 
 as we shall further shew in another chapter, as also how far and on what occasions 
 we must confine ourselves to that rule. 
 
9 
 
 Of Portraiture, 
 
 The best way to settle this point is, to follow those who have chosen their light 
 almost fronting, and, as before said, such a colouring as naturally appears to the 
 eye, besides a good choice : since I think the case of placing a portrait to be the 
 same as that of curious china, wdiich, whether it stand high or low, shews itself every 
 ■where beautiful. My reason for this is, that objects, which have such a front-light, 
 have an exceeding fine effect, and greakrelief, when they come against a dark ground ; 
 and still finer when the light falls on them somewhat from on high, if the sitter and 
 some accidents do not hinder it ; in which case, reason and our eye must best direct 
 us. View but this fineness in a posture painted leaning over a hatch, or out at 
 ■window, and -what great decorum the touches and shades about the most relieved 
 parts cause in such an object ; as Leonardo da Vinci has well observed. 
 
 Of the accidents which I just now' spoke of, I shall mention two or three : some 
 persons may be too long and sharp-nosed, or too hollow-eyed ; for such a low light 
 is most proper; but where it is otherwise, a high light ; in this manner a judicious 
 master ought to help the defects of nature, without adding to, or taking any thing 
 from them : yet, to the sorrow of impartial masters, the contrary is too much seen ; 
 for, as I have said, that history-painters chuse and follow what they have the greatest 
 inclination for, so it is with many portrait-painters, their work is better known by 
 their particular manner than the sitter by his picture. 
 
 Permit me here to make a comparison between those two great masters, Titian 
 and Van D^k, with respect to the judgment I have heard made on their works. 
 Of the latter it is said, that in the design, grace, and choice of a portrait-figure he 
 was the most skilful : nevertheless I have seen many of Titian's (wdio, in most mens 
 opinions, has the greater reputation), which seemed to me incomparable, though less 
 agreeable : here my position, about the particular choice of masters, takes effect 
 again ; because I think, that the defect in agreeableness is peculiuir to Titian’s coun- 
 try, and limits his choice, and therefore he is the less culpable ; when, on the con- 
 trary, our region prefers what is gay and elegant before the majestic and grave ; and 
 likeness is the chief object both of the sitter and the artist, every thing else being 
 looked on as by-works and ornament : a poor judgment methinks of people of sense ! 
 for if a portrait have not, besides likeness, an agreeable disposition, the little know- 
 ledge of the master will presently appear. It is true, that we meet with many odd 
 faces in the life, especially among vulgar and clownish people, yet I say that, be they 
 ever so rude, agreeableness should be observed in their pictures. By agreeableness 
 I understand the disposition of a posture in general ; as when the face has an ad- 
 vantageous turn more or less to the light, up or down, in order to create handsome 
 shades, and to shun unbecoming ones ; for every face requires a particular observa- 
 tion ; one, a high light ; another, a low one ; this, a side-light ; that, an almost front- 
 
 VOL. II. c 
 
10 Of Portraiture, 
 
 ing one: I speak not yet of many other requisites, such as the sway of the neck* 
 shoulders, or breast; or of a proper back-ground: all which considerations are 
 essential to a fine portrait, as well in respect to the naturalness and colour, as to 
 the motion: but of the light and back-grounds we shall say more in the next 
 chapter, and now return to our comparison. Some think that Van Dyk's paintings 
 are but water-co-lours compared with Titiaiis, whose pictures have so much force 
 in colouring, lights and shades, that those of the other cannot stand in competition 
 with them ; nay, that his colouring is inimitable, and w hereby that of Van Dyk 
 appears faint and weak : a ridiculous opinion indeed ! However, that Van Dyk 
 and Titian differ much in colouring, I allow ; but nevertheless think, that we need 
 not run to the Italians to prove it, since, if the stress lay in strong colouring only, 
 Rembrandt need not give way to Titian. But whence arises the mistake? Most 
 meii chime in with those simple judges who approve no histories, landscapes, or 
 portraits, that are not painted in the Italian manner. My opinion is, that the 
 whole of the matter lies more in the difference of climates than in the styles of the 
 masters ; for let an E7iglishiYtan s picture hang near an Italians^ both painted with 
 equal skill, and each given according to his hue and nature, there will appear a 
 great difference between them ; the sw eetening softness of the Englishman will charm 
 as much on one hand, as the strong and glowing colour of the Italian on the other. 
 On which of these two pictures has the master bestow'ed the most pains ? Are not 
 both praise-worthy, as having each expressed the character natural to his figure? 
 
 But not to go abroad for comparisons, with respect to particular claims, our 
 own low country affords differences enough : two brothers, of the same parents, are 
 born in the same town and hour; one of them is brought up to the sword, and 
 endures all the fatigues of war, and the incommodities of hail, snow, wind, rain, 
 sun, smoke of salt-petre, &c. whereby his complexion is altered, and becomes 
 swarthy. The other brother, contrarily, is educated in saloons, fine apartments, and 
 tender conversations, by which means, time cannot so much affect him ; each sits 
 for his picture to a separate and good master ; now these two pictures being brought 
 together, will the painter be censured for the difference of tints and features ; or, 
 will it be objected, that nature has not been rightly followed, or that the pictures 
 are not like ? An impartial judge will determine that both are good and natural, 
 and that each master has duly mixed art with nature. 
 
 I have discovered a great oversight in some artists, which is, that when the face 
 was finished they had no further regard to the life, but chose a posture, at pleasurCj 
 out of drawings or prints, without considering whether it suited the person, and 
 whether the dress was proper to the condition and countenance of the sitter; nay, 
 whether the head matched the body ; certainly a great heedlessness! for if a body 
 
11 
 
 Of Tortraiture» 
 
 tnu&t be added, ivhat more proper than <5ie life itself? and though the layman be 
 good and helpful, yet it is not equal to the life. Many disregard this, thinking 
 they have done enough in copying the face : but all the while they are preposterously 
 joining an airy drapery to a sedate and grave head, and a grave and stiff dress to a 
 merry face. But further, the hands are entirely neglected : if a pair of fine ones 
 can be got of some other master, these are made use of, without regard to the life, 
 which may perhaps have short, thick, and coarse hands. How can these things 
 agree? Is it; not almost the same as to dress Flora with the drapery of Ve&ta, 
 and Vesta with Florals ? Artists say — we have the prints of Van Dyk, Lely, Kneller, 
 and others, for fine examples ; and as Lely has followed Van Dyk in graceful 
 action and draperies, so w^ have a libei'ty to imitate him and othei^s, to which 1 
 willingly agree; but then we ought to do it on the same footing as he did ; hi his 
 postures lie has nat merely, and w ithout alteration^ followed Van Dyk, and still less 
 without judgment ; as may be seen in his two celebrated pictures of Nell Givyiut. 
 and the D of P : the one, a w^anton and buxom lady, he has so repre- 
 
 sented ; and the other, being a widow, and moie sedate, appears more modest. 
 
 By this rule we must w alk in the use of those great inastei's ; but if things he 
 done without making distinction of persons, and their conditions, the artist w'iil 
 w^ork to his dishonour. He who steals thus, may indeed call the work his Own, 
 without reproach ; none will object, as Michael Angelo did once to a painter w ho 
 practised it to excess : — What tvill become of your pictures at Doomsday^ tvhen the 
 ])arts shall return to their own wholes, seeing your works are made up of stolen 
 pieces ? 
 
 Moreover, in this theft, w'e ought well to observe, how masters best applied 
 every thing, with respect to youth and age, as well in postures as draperies and by- 
 ornaments ; what suits an alderman or hero a merchant or citizen nobleman or 
 plebeian : hereby we shall discover the aims of the great masters in thus managing 
 these particulars, and learn to immitate tlieir beauties in a sweet and agreeable 
 manner. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 or THE CHOICE or lights, duateries, and groCnds in a roH>. 
 trait; and of the point or sight. 
 
 In the preceding chapter we have laid dowm as a rule, that a front light is the best 
 to be chosen, and the most beautiful, especially in the fair sex; and I think it 
 the more necessary wdien the face itself is also chosen in front ; because then the 
 
 r 2 
 
12 
 
 0/ Portraiture, 
 
 greatest force will fall directly upon the most rising, or relieved parts : but I shall 
 now subjoin, that since the life, however we dispose it, either from or near the light, 
 fronting or in profile, yet supports itself, though the light be not advantageously 
 chosen, which a portrait cannot do ; we therefore must needs, in order to make it 
 appear as it ought to be, accommodate the light to the disposition of the face : for 
 instance, when the face turns somewhat sideways, the light must be adapted to it ; 
 when it is quite in profile, a side-light will be best; because then a great mass of light 
 remains together — to wit, in the forehead, nose, and cheeks, which are not broken 
 by any ground-shade, but united by the roundness ; which shews us how to repre- 
 sent rising nature, and causes a becoming relief. 
 
 We see that many, without diffei'ence, be the figure in full proportion, or in little, 
 give the touches under the nose so black and dark, that it seems as if a black beetle 
 were proceeding thence ; whereas it is certain, and nature teaches it, that w hen the 
 light falls strong on the nose, the nostrils and their ground-shades can never appear 
 so black ; and yet some think they have done great feats in using force and strength, 
 and will do it even in a fair and tender face, and no bigger than the palm of the 
 hand, although the deepest black should not have force enough to shade the ob- 
 jects of a darker colour, such as hair, a cloak, or other garment ; by which sort of 
 management the face seems to jump out of the frame, and to desert the wig, hair, 
 aud garment. We must not so understand, when we teach that the face must have 
 the main light ; we mean only, that all ought to keep due order, that it may look 
 natural. Each colour of the by-work ought, according to its lightness or darkness, 
 to have its moderate share and dark touches, as the matter it consists of is either 
 solid or thin and transparent ; and, in proportion as the objects lessen, so must the 
 forceof their colours diminish, as shall be further illustrated in the following chap- 
 ter, to which for brevity we refer. We see an excellent example of this manage- 
 ment in the famous Netscher s artful portraits, wherein he has judiciously handled 
 the darkest given shades, and main-light-touches, according to the natural force of 
 the colour. 
 
 For the better understanding of further observables, I have found it proper to 
 mention some other particulars concerning the disposition of lights, according to 
 occasion, consisting in light against dark, and the contrary ; and though every thing 
 thereby becomes relieved, and is set off, yet that is not sufficient; for the placing of 
 colours against each other on suitable grounds, and a contrast in the objects, whe- 
 ther moveable or immoveable, is of great consequence and decorum : and although 
 we have handled these things at large in the Book of Colouring, yet w^e find it ne- 
 cessary to recapitulate them here, with respect to portraits, and the retiring grounds 
 or vistos behind them. 
 
Of Portraiture. 13 
 
 Observe, then, whether a fair and beautiful face will become a light grey, or 
 lightish blue ground ; and whether a warm complexion and strong colouring, against 
 a glowing or yellowish grnund, will please the eye. I speak of the face, not the 
 draperies, though both together make a portrait. But let the fair and beautiful 
 face of a woman be placed against a warm ground, and then the light parts will not 
 only be thereby cast off, and look more agreeable, but the ^ades will also be sof- 
 tened, and appear more tender; for it is unnatural to force a fair and tender virgin, 
 who shews little or no motion, out of her seeming apartment, as some by their glow- 
 ing shades and reflections have endeavoured to do ; whereby their faces, on the 
 shaded side, look as if a lighted candle stood behind them, which penetrated their 
 skin : this is as unnatural in the open air as within doors. 
 
 This example of a woman is enough to prove the contrary conduct with respect 
 to a man’s face, according to the aforesaid rules concerning the disposition and 
 placing of colours on suitable grounds ; namely, that the strong ought to be painted 
 against the weak, and the weak against the glowing and strong; in which is also 
 comprehended light against dark, and dark against light. 
 
 Whence it is evident, that back-grounds contribute very much to the pleasing 
 effect of objects ; nay, I dare say, that the decorum mostly depends thereon : and 
 though many imagine, that a dark or black ground always becomes a portrait, yet 
 it is no rule, since, as before has been said, each individual colour of the objects 
 requires a particular back-ground : besides, if such things were to be taken for 
 rules, the art would look too much like an handicraft ; for a dark colour against a 
 dark ground can have no good effect, and that of a white or pale against it will be 
 too hard ; therefore a medium must be judiciously observed in both, that one 
 colour may suit with the other. In the draperies the conduct is the same ; one 
 person best becomes light, and another dark clothes ; blue suits one, and red, yel- 
 low, or green, &c. another : the artist must then take care not to force nature, but 
 help her as much as possible, and represent her always most beautiful. 
 
 If any one would know many reason for thinking that my errore arise in this part of 
 the art, it is, that the colours of the naked receive more or less, or too much force 
 by the by-colours of grounds and back-ornaments. It fares with them as it is said 
 of the camelion, who changes his colour as often as he is placed by different colours; 
 though this is occasioned by his elegant and shining scales, when, contrarily, the 
 human skin is dull, and not shining. How^ever, we shall find, that he who paints a 
 portrait twice, and each time on a contrary ground, yet with the same temperament 
 of colours, will perceive a very great, nay, incredible difference : as I have on seve- 
 ral occasions experimented in the life ; to wit, that when some young ladies were in 
 a room hung with yellow, they looked sickly and grey, notwithstanding their fresh 
 
14 
 
 Of Portraiture. 
 
 colour ; but, contrarily, being in a room hung with violet, their colours shewed them* 
 selves very beautiful ; whence it appears, that the alterations are oftentimes occa- 
 sioned by the adjacent objects. Let him who doubts this make trial of it in por- 
 trait, by la;ying a ground with w^ater-colours on paper; and, after the face is cut out, 
 placing it against the picture instead of a back-ground. But I think there is a 
 convenient ^way of preventing the aforesaid alteration ; namely, by fixing against the 
 wall, behind tlie sitter, a garment, cloth, or something else of the same colour, or 
 near it, which w^e chuse for our back-ground ; thus we may be sure of obtaining the 
 right colour, and make the painting look agreeable. 
 
 In order to represent an exte)isive back-ground, and chiefly in a small picture, be 
 it an apartment or landscape, some shadiness should be contrived between the figure 
 and the distance, as a column, curtain, body of a tree, vase, &c. These objects 
 being in shade, or of a dark colour, the lights falling on the oif-works will not pre- 
 judice either the face or drapery, though both be light; but, on the contrary, the 
 figure, as receiving the foremost and greatest light, will thereby be relieved, and look 
 bettei\ 
 
 As for the draperies, since they consist of diflerent and various colours, each 
 of a particular nature, and little agreeing with the colour of the face, they also 
 recjuire each a particular ground, best suiting and uniting with it ; to the end that, 
 though differing among themselves, they may have a perfect harmony with each 
 other, so that the eye be not taken alone with the face, or the draperies, ornaments, 
 or by-works; but, by this sweet conjunction, insensibly conducted all over the 
 picture. 
 
 It will not be improper to treat also abouf easiness and sedateness in posture, 
 opposed to stir and bustle, and the contrary : namely, that the picture of a gen- 
 tlewoman of repute, who, in a grave and sedate manner turns towards that of her 
 husband hanging near it, gets a great decorum by moving and stirring back-ground 
 objects, whether by means of waving trees or crossing architecture of stone, or 
 wood, or any thing else that the master thinks will best contrast, or oppose the 
 sedate posture of his principal figure. And because these are things of conse- 
 quence, and may not be plainly understood by every one, I shall explain myself by 
 examples in Plate LVII. concerning the elegance and harmony of back-grounds 
 with the figures. 
 
 In No. 1, I represent a beautiful face against the light of the ground; and the 
 drapery, which is white, or of light colouring, against the dark of it ; these oppo- 
 sitions thus meeting, produce a sweet mixture above, and below an agreeable relief 
 or rising of the under part of the body ; whereas, were it otherwise, the face, as 
 but a small parf of the body, would look too sharp and disagreeable, apd tlie under 
 paid of the body would have no force. 
 
15 
 
 Of Portraiture, 
 
 In No. 2. being’ ilie portrait of a man of a more warm and swarthy complexion, 
 we see the reverse of the former, because his colour, and that of his dress, are 
 of a different nature \ yet the ground is very ornamental, and each sets off the 
 other 
 
 No. 3. shews a man with a drunken face of red, purple, and violet, and some- 
 what brown and darkish; which is set off by a white marble or light stone ground, 
 and gives it a fine air. 
 
 In No. 4. is an example of the contrast in distant objects with the drapery 
 of the figure ; shewing the opposition of moveable objects with, fixed ones ; for 
 herein are seen rounding and crossing folds against straight and parallel off-works,. 
 And, 
 
 In No. 5. appears the reverse ; where the folds hang straight and mostly dowi> 
 wards, and the off-works cross them.. 
 
 No. 6. gives us an example of the opposing action and posture of bodies in two* 
 fellow-portraits; for the man, being on the woman’s right side, turns his face side- 
 ways towards her: his body is fronting, receiving the light from the i^ght side.. 
 
 In No. 7, we see the contrary in the woman’s posture; her face is fore-right, 
 and her body sways sideways towards the man ; she also is lighted from the right- 
 side. 
 
 The figures numbered^ 8 and 9 represent also, yet in a different manner, the con- 
 trast in the motion; for the woman, standing on the right side of the man, has 
 sedate motion, and set and hanging shoulders: but, the man,, contrarily,. is in active 
 motion. And, 
 
 No. 10. shews a proper method to exhibit a great extent, or seemingly such, in aj 
 small piece; for the figure stands in a strong light; the by-ornaments, viz. curtain, 
 vase, pillar, and walling, are in shade ; and the distance or back-ground is light 
 again, but somewhat broke by reason, of its remoteness. 
 
 To conclude this chapter I shall say something of the placing of portraits,, and of 
 their point of sight. 
 
 As to the former, it is certain, that when we see any painted figure, or object, in a 
 place where the life can. be expected, as standing on the ground,, leaning over a 
 balcony or ballustrade, or out at window, &c. it deceives the eye, and by being seen 
 unawares, causes sometimes a pleasing mistake ; as it frightens and surprises others, 
 when they meet with it unexpectedly at such places as aforesaid, and where there is 
 a likelihood for it. If we are thus misled by a representation of nature,, how. great 
 must the master be who did it ! The knowing esteem him, ignorants cry him up: if 
 this be the case, we ought to endeavour to follow nature and likelihood, and prin- 
 cipally to observe the rules of perspective ; for who can doubt, tliat a standing. 
 
16 Of Portraiture. 
 
 sitting, or moving figure, artfully painted, and placed as aforesaid, will not have the 
 same eftect as the life itself? 
 
 Hence it follows, that low horizons, or points of sights, are the best and most 
 natural in a portrait, and will most deceive the senses, if the light and distance, 
 with respect to the place where the picture is to be set, be well observed ; otherwise 
 the effect will be contrary to what we expect. 
 
 This conduct is chiefly necessary in portraits hanging high ; for being so much 
 above the eye they must needs have a low horizon. But as portraits are move- 
 able, how natural and like soever they be, and well managed, if they hang not in 
 proper places they will not have a good effect : hence the mischief attending them 
 is, that by continually changing their places, they cannot always be painted 
 to a certain height and distance, and consequently baffle our rule — a difficulty 
 which the greatest masters must struggle with, and this branch of the art is 
 liable to. 
 
 Having now shewn that alow horizon and point of sight are best and most natural, 
 as supplying, in some measure, this inconvenience : how much must they mistake 
 who always choose a high horizon? They are on a level with the sitter, and yet 
 place the horizon many feet higher ; nay, they think those who do otherwise act 
 against nature and art. Some will have two points of sight in one piece ; one for 
 the figure, another for the ornaments : one level with the eye, and the other for the 
 distance; one hand higher or lower at pleasure, or about three or four fingers 
 breadth above the middle. Although these are inexcusable errors, yet I think it 
 vain to attempt their redress ; but hope the judicious artist will weigh what I have 
 said, and endeavour to avoid them. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 OF PORTRAITS IN SMALL. 
 
 There are many things, as I have formerly shewed, which if we will have them 
 transport the senses by their natural representation, we must always exhibit in their 
 natural proportion and force of colouring : but in a portrait it is otherwise ; for this 
 may as well be done in little as in full proportion, provided the diminution be well 
 observed ; and besides, it has some relation to historical management. We could 
 say the same of a little flower compared with a great one ; for if it were coloured in 
 proportion to its distance and diminution, it would be in the same case with a por- 
 trait in little. But it is nevertheless certain, that in festoons, garlands, flower-pots 
 
17 
 
 Of 'Portraiture. 
 
 an mdhes, groups of flowers, &c. serving for ornament of cliambers, little flowers are 
 of small account ; nay, never seen wove or embroidered in any stuff : whence «ome 
 may be induced to think, that a portrait in little, as big as the palm of the hand, 
 has as little property in a square against the wall, especially when it receives its 
 light from without the frame, and is painted with as much force as the life itself; 
 which, with respect to force, I allow ; nevertheless, a small portrait may, in order 
 to make it look more natural, be more easily helped, than small flowers placed 
 against a door, window, or other flat ; which, in my opinion, can in no wise be 
 made good ; but a small portrait may, as I shall prove in what follows : in order to 
 which the artist must previously consider. 
 
 First, How much the life in proportion diminishes ; and, consequently, how faint 
 it must be. 
 
 Secondly, That the picture cannot receive its light from without the frame, as 
 being too far from it. 
 
 Here, perhaps, it may be asked. Whether a portrait of a lady or gentleman lean- 
 ing out at window^ in the manner of old 3Iieris, Metzu, Vonder^ Neer^ and others, 
 would not be good and natural ? I say. Yes. But then the window must also go 
 back ; for as it would be difficult to represent its going back from the frame, since 
 no object, whether ceiling or floor, &c. is between them, in order to create distance, 
 and make the picture fall back ; something may be introduced in full proportion, 
 to shew the depth and distance, according to the diffei’ence to be seen in the follow- 
 ing instances in Plate LVHL 
 
 In No. 1. we see a common fault in the figure leaning on a frame ; in this there 
 is no other way to make the figure go back, than by taking away the frame. And, 
 although. 
 
 No. 2. shews itself within the frame, yet it would be to no purpose did we not 
 assign a sufficient large breadth or thickness to the frame ; for in such case we must 
 not regard a hand’s breadth of cloth, whereon to represent something in full pro- 
 portion, as an orange, flute, book, &c. Yet, 
 
 No. 3. shews a good method, and in my judgment the best and most natural. 
 
 I remember, amongst the paintings of a certain amateur, to have seen one of a 
 doctor with an urinal in his hand, thrusting his arm out at window, so that the shade 
 of it, and the glitter of the water plainly appeared on the sill of the window. 
 
 Next the window a maid-servant was seen standing at the door, speaking to a 
 woman in the street with a child in her arms : some other figures appeared in the 
 front of the picture, seen to the shoulders only, as if standing in the street. On the 
 sill of the window were lying a bottom of blue worsted stuck with needles, also a 
 pair of scissors, a piece of dark blue cloth, and a thimble, all in full proportion : to 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 D 
 
18 
 
 Of Toi'traiture, 
 
 be short, this picture was by an artist, with the owner’s leave, sentenced to be 
 docked ; in order to wliich, he drew a square chalk-line round the window, which 
 contained the doctor, and cut away all the rest round about it, hitting here a head, 
 there an arm, without sparing any body but the doctor, who was instantly piit into a 
 smaller framfe : thus the piece w as half cut away, and for no other reason, as the 
 artist pretended, than that the doctor alone was sufficient to satisfy the eye, the rest 
 being superfluous. A wretched fate for so good a picture ! But some painters will 
 keep the old road, because it is diflicult to correct a rooted evil : they do as the old 
 woman did, who being exhorted in her last sickness to embrace the true faith, 
 answered, “ She would follow the steps of her forefathers, w^ere they all gone to 
 the devil.” 
 
 So it is with a portrait in little, which has nothing of nature but the features, and 
 look« like a puppet ; wliereas there are w ell-known methods to make it appear as 
 big as the life ; nay, to move and speak, as I may say : but, being slighted, the figure 
 seems immoveable, dumb, and little, and therefore unnatural. 
 
 On this footing I mean to shew, that all things may be naturally represented in 
 little, except a moon-light, which baffles all our skill. 
 
 Now, if it be asked. Whether too nice an expression of parts in a small portrait 
 would not be superfluous and unnatural, with respect to distance, and whether less 
 finishing w'ould not be better? I say, No ; provided it be not so strong and warm 
 as the life ; for the figure not being exhibited in open field, it cannot have so much 
 mistiness and vapour about it ; and therefore the neat penciling cannot be obstructive, 
 especially if managed with skill, as the principal parts w^ell touched, and the tender 
 and melting smallness in the broad parts the same, so that at the proper distance the 
 one is seen more, and the other less. 
 
 Here may arise another question : Wheth'er such pictures are not of the same 
 nature with Avhat is seen through a prospective-glass, since every thing appears so 
 plain, elaborate, and neat? But I answer, that they are not, nor can; because the 
 glass exhibits the life without the interposition of mistiness or vapours, and with 
 strong and warm shades, which overcome its smallness. 
 
 I have often wondered at such small paintings, because they seemed as if I was 
 looking in a Nuremberg looking-glass, or through a prospective, since they appeared 
 not like the life, but little moving puppets. 
 
 Now, another difiiculty is, that since such paintings cannot, according to our 
 position, be made good without the addition of some by-ornaments, as imagery in 
 whole or half-figures, vine-branches about the frame, or something lying on it, in 
 order to throw them off, it would be hard for those who can only paint a whole or 
 half length figure, and aim at nothing else than to become masters therein ; whereas, 
 
19 
 
 Of Portraiture, 
 
 he who is better versed, may, by a due observance of what has been said, easily over- 
 come the before-mentioned difficulties. 
 
 CHAP. VI. ‘ 
 
 OF THE APPLICATION OF REQUISITES WITH RESPECT TO THE 
 DIFFERENT CONDITIONS OF PERSONS. 
 
 It will not be foreign to our main design, to put the artist in mind of the appli- 
 cation and right use of such materials as may enrich a portrait, and make it look 
 the more noble. This is so great a point in portraiture, that, when well known, we 
 need never be at a stand through the mis-shape or defects we often meet with in 
 the disposition of a portrait, and which sometimes must not be hid ; since we have 
 often means enough for obviating them with seeming reason, and without forcing 
 nature ; as a long and narrow face may be helped by a hood, or other head-dress ; 
 a thick and too round a face by the contrary : a figure too lonesome may be em- 
 bellished with a pillar, pedestal, flower-pot, table, and such things as are proper 
 to it, which serve not only for ornament and grandeur, but also to express the 
 sitter’s lustre and virtue : but care must be taken that the figure of the sitter, as the 
 principal object of the piece, fill up the major part of it, either by a spreading 
 disposition of the posture, or by the addition of some proper by-work; by which 
 means it will have a good eflfect. 
 
 Since it is certain that the vices as well as virtues have two powerful qualities, 
 and, though contrary to each other, yet both tend to good purpose ; nay, a wicked 
 person may, by a virtuous example, be rescued from evil; and a virtuous person, 
 through bad example, led into error and ruin ; but virtue being joined to virtue, 
 fears no evil ; on the contrary, the evil will make us avoid evil : so pictures 
 should create an ardour for virtue, and especially those of religious and good per- 
 sons ; since this, as we have said in Chap. I. gave the first rise to their repre* 
 sentations, in order to perpetuate their memories, as well as their virtues and glori- 
 ous actions. 
 
 To come then the better to this excellent point, let us by noble accompaniments 
 make known their virtues, natures, manners, and particular inclinations, and ex- 
 hibit them with their persons in a conspicuous manner. Wherefore I shall lay 
 down some examples, though drawn from heathen story. 
 
 Among the heathens, some were most virtuously endowed, Lucretia and Pene- 
 lope in chastity ; Cato in steadiness ^^nd courage ; and many others whom we shall 
 
 D 2 
 
20 
 
 Of Portraiture. 
 
 for brevity omit, to pass to the sketching some representations (or materials for strch) 
 of the circumstances of a court,, chamberj or other apartment ; and an example of 
 a chaste virgin shall be that of Lucretia. It is said, to her honour, that she vras 
 descended of a noble family, and so virtuously educated, that she delighted only 
 in that. Now, whether we represent her living or dead in that character, we may 
 adorn her apartment with fine tapestries, statues, and pictures, the history of Pc?ie- 
 at work ; the fable of and Neptune ; some modest emblems of gods, 
 
 &c. all relating to chastity and honour. If statues, or household gods be neces- 
 sary, let them he Pallas^ JDianay Hymen, emd especially Vesta: her bed may be 
 ornamented with Chastity and Stedfastness ; and on her couch may be seen some 
 Cupids lighting each other’s torches, or playing with palm-branches and olive-leaves: 
 the apartment may be here and there furnished with gold and silver vases, cups 
 and other house-plate, wrought with virtuous significations ; but herein care must 
 be taken not to introduce any thing foreign to the matter, or against history, which 
 ought to be consulted. 
 
 The management this example may sufficiently usher in the method of treating 
 others, such as of Julius Ccesar, Augustus, Marcus, Aurelius, Crcesus, iSolon, Se- 
 neca, &c. and contrarily, the stories of Sardanapalus, Semiramis, Faustina, Pha- 
 laris, &c. 
 
 As for a cruel prince, or tyrant, either in his court, apartment, or other place, 
 even in his revels, &c. each requires its proper embellishment : the apartment may 
 be adorned with paintings of all so-rts of punishments and cruelties, drawn from the 
 blackest parts of history, together with those who cause them to be inflicted : if it 
 be Nero, let all or some of the cruelties of his bloody reign be painted, and his 
 qualities, with emblems in marble bass-relief ; his statues are deities or household 
 gods, as Mars and Megcera; he himself may be represented on a pedestal, with 
 thunder in his hand, the world under his feet, and the Roman senators bowing and 
 kneeling before him, fettered like slaves : his drinking equipage may be ornamented 
 with noxious animals, as serpents, adders, and the like ; his chair or seat, with ti- 
 gers, lions, and dragons, wrought in silver, gold, and ivory ; his throne may be 
 supported by Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, and PltUo ; the floor curiously and richly 
 inlaid with a celestial sphere of lapis lazuli; and the meteors and constellations 
 wrought in bright gold ; the censors may smoke in all corners of the apartment, but 
 chiefly about his statue. If the scene lie in his dining room, the household gods 
 may be seen thrown down in all corners, especially the simulacrum of Roma, with 
 its head broken off, and lying near it, Jupiter, Apollo, and Vesta are principals in 
 this company. In fine, every thing that can denote a wicked man, or monster, art 
 must exhibit. The same character should also appear in the actions, looks, and 
 dresses of his retinue or guards ; for we usually say, “ Like master, like man,” 
 
Of. Fortmilure,. 21- 
 
 But not to dwell too long’ with princes, we shalh also speak of other cliai’acters, 
 and shew what suits them. 
 
 With a burgomaster suits the statue of justice ; and in paintings, or hangings, some 
 emblems of it, representing the rewards of the good, and punishment of the bad ; 
 the fascee(or rods and axe) are the true token of a consul, or burgomaster. 
 
 With a senator agree the statue of policy, or government; and in paintings or 
 hangings^ some representations of the laws ; besides prudence and care for the state. 
 
 With a, secretary the statue of Harpocrates ; and in tapestry, or bass-relief, the 
 story of Alexander shutting Hephestions moutk %vith a sea-ring ; also the emblem of 
 Fidelity, or a goose with a stone in its bill. 
 
 With a director (governor) of the East- India Company figui'C or statue of it ; to 
 wit, a heroine with a scollop of‘ mother-of-pearl on her head, in the nature of a hel- 
 met, and thereon a coral branch ; a breast ornament of scales, pearls, and corals^ 
 about her neck ; buskins on her legs^ with two dolphins conjoined head to head,, 
 adorned with sea-shells; two large shells on her shoulders ; a trident in her hand,, 
 and her clothing a long mantle; a landscape behind her of an Indian prospect, with- 
 palm and cocoa-trees, some figures of blacks, and elephant’s teeth. 
 
 This figure also suits' an admiral, or commander at sea, when a sea-fight is intro- 
 duced instead of a landscape. 
 
 With a divine agrees the statue of Truth, represented iii a Christian-like manner,, 
 or else this same emblem in one of his hands, and his other on his breast; besides 
 tapestries, bass-reliefs, or paintings, and some Christian emblems of the true faith, 
 and a representation of the Old and New Testament; and in the off-scape a temple. 
 
 With a philosopher a celestial globe, the statue of Nature, and a representation . 
 of the four elementS 3 &c. 
 
 A general should have a white staff in his hand, and the figure oi Mars in a niche ; 
 if a landscape be seen, a trophy may be reared with Victory sitting on it : he may 
 have Hercules for a statue.* 
 
 With a sea-insurer suits on a dolphin ; and, in a picture, a sea-haven with a 
 
 ship under sail making towards it ; on the shore the* figure of Fortune, and over the 
 cargOi, Castor and Pollux^ 
 
 With a steersman suits the figure of Pi‘ecaution ; besides a compass : and, in a 
 picture, the four cardinal points. 
 
 With an engineer, the figure of Industry; besides a map of military architecture.- 
 
 With an orator, or speaker, the figure of Eloquence, or Mercury, without his 
 purse, and beside* him a roll of papers ; in the off-scape, a person mounted on a stone, 
 and surrounded with an attentive audience. 
 
 With a virtuous young man the figure of Virtue ; and on a wall emblem 
 
22 Of Portraiture. 
 
 of the young man in the stadium or course ; or else the young Hercules standing be- 
 tween Virtue and Vice. 
 
 Some things are also proper to women, to betoken their virtues and qualities ; as 
 by an eminent woman for reputation the statue of Honour, and by it some emblems 
 of Fidelity, especially economy, or family government, and some medals relating 
 thereto. 
 
 AVith a widow agrees well the figure of Humility, or emblems tending towards it, 
 as also Perseverance. 
 
 With a young and sober virgin suits the figure of Neatness ; an embroidering frame 
 and its furniture ; besides emblems relating to it ; among which, that of Business, 
 shunning Idleness, Pride, and Gluttony, have a principal place. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 OF THE SUITING OF COLOURS IN DRAPERIES. 
 
 The suiting of colours in portraits comes now before us — a matter of as great con- 
 sequence as the former, and deserves no less attention. 
 
 Many think, though without ground, that deep red best becomes a red-faced 
 person ; deep yellow a sallow one ; and all pale colours a pale one ; and, what is 
 strange, black and dark colours, a swarthy person: but this must be ridiculous, 
 and without reason, if we consider what a strange composition these people would 
 make. Truly, if the art were so, there would be no difficulty in finding agree- 
 ableness, and every one would be able to dispose it as it ought to be ; and if this 
 were a becomingness, variety would be no art : nay, the fashion itself, which alters 
 four times a year with respect to colour, would not be allowed every body to wear; 
 as in spring, green ; in summer, yellow ; in autumn, red ; and in winter, fillemot. 
 Yellow or sallow-faced persons durst not wear red ; or red-faced ones, green : but 
 enough of this. Let us now return to what sober art dictates. 
 
 Beginning with the head and its hair, I say, that deep or strong colours, such 
 as deep red, deep yellow, deep blue, &c. best fit for a person who has brown hair. 
 
 Those who have fair hair best become half or weak colours ; such as purple, 
 light blue, violet, green, and rose-colour. 
 
 A yellow-haired person best becomes violet, blue, and whitish yellow, as masti- 
 cot, and such like ; these are the chief colours which I know. But here we must 
 observe, that the lighter the hair, the more weak the drapery ; and the darker the 
 hair, the stronger the dress. 
 
Of Portraiture. 
 
 
 He IS a prudent master who well knows how to express in his pictures the dif- 
 ferent natures and complexions of people, and to distinguish persons full of spirit 
 and fire from the meek and dead-hearted ; the sickly and weak from the healthy 
 and strong; as to whom we may use draperies of the following colours: with the 
 red or fiery suit best draperies of half or broken colours, with little red in them ; 
 the pale suits no yellow, or other pale colour; the sallow the same ; but white is 
 very agreeable : brown complexions become not dark or strong, but white, and all 
 light colours. The blacks love white above any other colour, and think no dress 
 becomes them better than a light-coloured one — and not without reason ; for, would 
 not a black man with black or dark clothes be frightful to look at? And how ri- 
 diculous is it for a pale virgin to dress in all sorts of light and pale colours, in order 
 to look less pale; and that one who is red, wear nothing but red for the same rea- 
 son. Hereby, instead of hiding a small fault, the master would commit a greater; 
 and yet this is the common notion. But, if I may give my opinion, a red and fiery- 
 faced person, dressed in red, seems to me like a red painted statue ; and a pale- 
 looking person in a light or yellow dress, as sick or dead. Wherefore, if we 
 would be artful, we must manage otherwise ; to wit, that those whom we 
 would represent healthy or sickly, ought to appear such by contrary colours; as 
 lively colours for a sick or unhealthy person ; and weak and faint ones for a healthy 
 person: yet let me not be here misunderstood: I say not this as a positive law, 
 without exception, but as a hint to Tyros. The more experienced know what the 
 artt dies; for she is not deficient: but as the drapery sometimes over-rules, so we 
 can manage the naked accordingly; for instance, red drapery requires a middling 
 carnation, between pale and red ; so also it ought to be with a pale colour. When 
 I say the decorum consists m an opposition, it must be understood, that opposition 
 has its degrees, which we ought to know and use according to the different occasion, 
 and the grounds against which they happen to come : but, in general terms, the 
 naked must always seem to be of a distinct nature from the draperies. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OP THE IMITATION OF GREAT MASTERS IN PAINTING PORTRAITS; 
 AND OF COPYING THEIR PICTURES IN GENERAL. 
 
 Ere we leave the subject of portraiture, I think this head necessary to be treated 
 of, and therefore shall shew how far and in what manner we may engage in it; and 
 subjoin somewhat of copying pictures in the same bigness, as well as in different sizes. 
 
24 
 
 Of Tortraiiurt, 
 
 I findtbat this imitationof masters is less observed in their design arid arrangements 
 than in the colouring, lights, and shades : this is certainly a principal point in a 
 picture, because, there fcan be no decorum without it nay we find some works of 
 small masters in this particular tolerably successful ; though they know not how 
 they got ithe knowledge, it happening mostly by chance: they are charmed with 
 some fine and taking colours in this or that great master ; these they use at random 
 in their own productions, either forwards or in the depth, middle or sides; and if 
 they happen to be placed against a proper ground, or are set off by any aiding by- 
 colour, the work hits right, in satisfying both the eye, and rules of art; but if 
 these fine colours happen to suit the grounds, then all is wrong, and the artist at a 
 stand. 
 
 To explain this point, we shall be more particular, and clear it by examples; 
 though I think I have already in this book spoken largely enough of it, in treating of 
 back-grounds and the harmony of colours in a portrait. A certain artist having seen 
 a very beautiful white and green lace on a young lady’s gown, painted by a great 
 master, he must by all means imitate it ; but being asked, whether he had taken due 
 notice of the ground-colour of the gown ? he answered, No. How then can this fine 
 and becoming lace have a good effect in his works unless by chance ? The reason of 
 which is, I think, that either through shame or pride, or both, the artist takes some- 
 thing from a great master ; for instance, what he used in the lointain, the other, that 
 it may not be known, brings forward ; and what he has represented in the open air, 
 the other contrives in a dark room. A poor method of concealment, since by a right 
 application the theft would be lawful ! but it is such mens misfortune, to be, in this 
 particular, most out of the way when they think they do best : for, wanting the great 
 masters wit, judgment, and apprehension, they have no true notion of his conduct, 
 and therefore are easily misled, like raven, and exposed to censure. 
 
 Since it is an undoubted truth, that we can perform nothing but what passes 
 through thought, and of which, either by seeing or hearing, we get an idea — there- 
 fore must the paintings, drawings, and fine prints of old masters give a handle to 
 thoughts and practice ; for he who never saw a lion can never paint him well, unless 
 by the help of a draught, or model: as was the ease of a certain W estphalian^yvlxo 
 representing Daniel in the lion’s den, and having never seen a lion, he painted hogs 
 instead of lions, and wrote underneath. These should he lions. Be this a fable or 
 truth, it however teaches us, that w^e cannot represent any thing, whereof we have 
 no idea; nay, if we have seen the objects, and made no sketches or models of them, 
 w e shall never exhibit them naturally ; since memory is hut the repository of know- 
 ledge and thoughts, from wdiich they draw the things which judgment esteems useful 
 And serviceable. 
 
Of T ortr ait lire . 25 
 
 I cim of opinioWj two JidvEintci^os uriso from copyin^^ grocit mfistors 
 %voi ks . tliO’OnG IS, tliftt tliGrcm w'g sgg msny defects of simple iititure corrected by 
 their skill and judgment ; and the other, that by this means we accustom ourselves 
 to rectify those defects, w^hen w'e have nature before us : truly two points of great 
 importance. 
 
 But, alas ! is an artist, considered in his natural inclination, otherwise than a 
 child which, advancing in age, follows its impulse ? If he perform one praiseworthy 
 act, how many errors will he contrarily commit? but when this bent is conducted by 
 reason and art, the perceptions of the mind will then, as through a clear channel, 
 flow pure and undefiled: which leads me in some measure to confess, that art and 
 practice have great advantages, and are more to be set by, than all we receive from 
 Nature, which is often defective in desired perfection, in a single object : but she is 
 perfect in her performances and objects in general ; and, in that sense, art is obliged 
 to follow her; wherefore, with the philosopher, I must say of artists, 
 
 J^atura incipit, ars dirigity experientia docet, 
 
 ' Thai is, 
 
 Mature points out the way, which arts improve, 
 
 And settled practice makes a picture move. 
 
 Hence we may easily perceive what we should do to cure this great defect of 
 the mis-use of other men’s works ; but, that I may be the better understood, I shall 
 insist on further means for doing it: if then it happen, that the artist meet with 
 any thing which is very taking, and he be desirous to make it his own, whether 
 fine colours, drapery, stone, &c. Let him take notes, in his pocket-book, of the 
 ground, by-colours and other incidents, as what there is about such or such colour 
 and against what ground, and whether it be strong or weak ; and of what colour 
 the objects be, and whether the warm or weak colour be in the distance or forwards, 
 disagreeing or not ; as in the chapter of the harmony of colours is shewed. We 
 must also consider, whether the light come from open air, or fall into a room through 
 glass windows; as is more largely taught in the book of lights and shades, and 
 which 1 repeat here, because I think face-painters frequently act contrarily, in see- 
 ing a faint yet fine drapery represented without-doors, which with the same tiut they 
 exhibit in an open air. 
 
 The like heedless mistake we see in the copies of many disciples and young mas- 
 ters after old or modern paintings; for, not observing whether in lessening their 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
26 
 
 Of Poi'tmiture,. 
 
 copies (which they generally do) they should not also abate the strength of colour 
 and tints, their colouring, as well in light as shade is as strong as the original. The 
 same error they commit in painting a great copy after a small original. But this ill 
 conduct is owing chiefly to masters when they set their pupils to copy in a different 
 size, in not admonishing them of it ; but rather desiring that they shall imitate every 
 thing as exactly as possible; though in fact it be against the rule of art.. It is 
 therefore certain, that a picture with figures, of a landscape, suppose it as big as the 
 life, to be copied a third less in size tints in the copy must needs be a third fainter 
 than the original ; and the more it lessens in size, the fainter the tints, or else it can- 
 not be good. If this conduct be of such moment in copying pictures, of how much 
 greater consequence must it be, when a portrait-painter diminishes the life, or paints 
 a portrait in full proportion from a small one, with respect to the weakening or 
 strengthening of colours. 
 
 Although it is commendable to follow great masters in general, yet it is a fault to 
 dwell upon some of their particulars, as an ornament, urn, vase, term, &c. without 
 striving at something new. We think, that what they have done is enough for our 
 practice ; but this is w eakness ; since art and nature have such a fund of objects, and 
 our time for learning and living is long enough, and by consulting within ourselves 
 we may spur our genius. 
 
 Others commit the same fault by a contrary impulse ; for so violent is their incli- 
 nation to some particular great master in his objects, colouring, &c. that they think 
 it lost time to employ their thoughts on the works of any other good artist, and being 
 thus w edded to him, they wish, drudge and plod to be like him as well in errors as 
 perfections ; by this means, and by a punctual imitation of blunders and mistakes, 
 it sometimes happens, that the copy and the original are not to be distinguished, 
 both being so wonderfully like each other ; nay, their own productions are taken for 
 copies. For, a tyro of good ability may at first use hiioself to a good manner of 
 designing, which he ought to be master of, before he takes to painting, and to under- 
 stand this well before he proceeds to ordonnances ; and then, if he have a thorough 
 knowledge of the latter, he will paint a good picture. Yet it is often seen, that his 
 work is but taken for that of a pupil, nay, w'orse than a copy ; and what, is still less, 
 it is not like his own manner or handling: and why? such artists, being advanced 
 thus far, endeavouring to produce their own inventions, no longer minding grounds 
 and rules, but striving only at novelties, care little for jiainting or designing well ; 
 whence their works are oftentimes indifferently designed, poorly handled and 
 coloured, but well ordered ; arising only from a neglect of their master’s instructions, 
 and what they know and an itch for what they still want to know; whereby they 
 are often shipwrecked betAveen both: pernicious effect of the bent of our youth! 
 
27 
 
 Of Fortraiture. 
 
 whicli cannot lie remedied otlierwise than by returning to original principles and 
 their putting in use : far as by an excess in loading height upon weight on a weak 
 and unsettled, though well-laid foundation the whole building may tumble, even the 
 foundation may dance ; so must our practice ^ways have an eye to theory, that the 
 custom (which, as we say, is a second nature in goodness as well as badness) may 
 gam firm footing on us, and be our surest guide. 
 
 THB END OF BOOK VII. 
 
THE 
 
 ABT OF FAIOTING, 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 OF ARCHITECTURE, 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF ATICHITECTURE IN GENERAL. 
 
 After having treated of so many different parts of the art, we meet also with ar- 
 chitecture: an art full of noble performances and fine uses. But our purpose is 
 not to insist on all its advantages, or give a system of it ; since such a work would 
 he too tedious, and calls for Homer or \irgiVs eloquence ; and having been co- 
 piously written upon by several learned pens, we shall treat no farther of it than 
 what concerns a painter, leaving the rest to architects. 
 
 An ingenious history painter, if he would be universal, must needs understand 
 architecture and statuary; because he will otherwise be at a nonplus in some 
 things ; he ought even to be as knowing as an architect, and how to order a good 
 building, though it is an architect’s daily practice, and that but a part of the painter’s. 
 
 It is certain that the human body is, in its symmetry, proportion, majesty, and 
 grace, the most perfect piece of work in the creation : architecture is no less perfect 
 in its operations ; it has even produced the first wonder of the world, and thereby 
 obtained the laurel and palm of fame. 
 
 Writers say, that Babylonians were the first, and after them the JEgyptians, Greeks, 
 and Romans, who brought it to perfection ; until in the emperor Augustus’s time, 
 it arrived at its highest pitch ; but sunk afterwards by the irruption and barbarity 
 of the Goths, Vandals, Hunns, and Longohards, who burned and destroyed all 
 before them. A true proof that nothing in the world is* permanent and stable. 
 
 But to come to our purpose, we must premise that the word architecture) simply 
 
2.9 
 
 Of ArchiiecUire, 
 
 signifies draughts or designs, after which, a building is carried up and constructed ; 
 and comprehends the five following orders : namely, the Tuscan^ Doric, Ionic, 
 Roman, and Corinthian; according to which, all buildings are regulated, whether 
 palaces, temples, town houses, triumphal arches, bagnios, theatres, town-gates, 
 galleries, tombs, and other magnificent buildings, round or square, or both : I speak 
 of their outward constuction. 
 
 The word order is of large extent : but in architecture is, as Nitruviiis defines 
 it, a joining of different proportionate and symmetric parts, as pedestals, columns, 
 and their ornaments, in such manner as to compose a perfect order and body. 
 
 As for the entablatures over columns, to wit, architraves, friezes, and cornices 
 (which for their richness, have got the name of ornaments) they may as little as the 
 orders themselves, be either mixed among one another, or changed from one order 
 to another. 
 
 A careful painter will not only distinguish one sort from another, from cornice to 
 base, but will also take care not to put an Ionic moulding on a Doric pedestal ; a 
 Corinthian on a Tuscan: a Roman cornice on an Ionic frieze, &c. 
 
 Further, it is certain that the orders do not promiscuously suit all sorts of build- 
 ings, but ought so to be applied (respecting their parts and ornaments, which also 
 differ in general from each other) as to have an harmony and agreement with the 
 whole buildings, with respect to their situation and quality. 
 
 These orders must be enriched in their several kinds, to shew a suitable decorum, 
 especially the capitals, except the Tuscan, which is throughout plain and simple. 
 
 The Doric order excels in its trigiyphs and metopes. The Ionic, in its volutes, 
 modillions, &c. The Roman, in the elegance of cornices, and beauty of capitals with 
 their volutes, and oak-leaves. And the Corinthian, by its mouldings of victorious 
 olive leaves, and its excellent and agreeable capitals. 
 
 The metopes in the Z>onc frieze may be enriched according to the qualities and 
 uses of buildings, whether temples, town-houses, honourary arches, or courts for 
 priests. 
 
 In the first suit best carved challices, books, vases, mitres, &c. 
 
 In the second, the coats of arms of the republic, or chief men in the government : 
 also the rays and thunders of Jupiter iioA together ; or the Caduces (staff) of Mer~ 
 cury, twined with serpents, as denoting peace. 
 
 In the third, various arms and trophies taken from the enemy ; or all sorts of mu- 
 sical and warlike instruments, as usual in triumphs and armies, crowded together. 
 And, 
 
 In the last suit best carved ox-sculls, adorned with garlands, betokening sacrifice 
 which the ancients made to their deities ; oftentimes the utensils of those offerings 
 
so Of Architecture. 
 
 j 
 
 were introdacGfl, to wit, altar, vases, three legged kettles, vinegar-cups, censers Can- 
 dlesticks, basons, dishes, hammers, axes, knives, &c. 
 
 Among the works of the ancients we see in the friezes of the Ionic, Roman, and 
 Corinthian orders (especially in the two last) some foliage of oak leaves ; which 
 has a fine effect, when twined with shrubs and vine branches, interspersed with roses 
 and other flowers. Sometimes are introduced vizards, with playing children and 
 running animals : also festoons of fruit, leaves, and various kinds of the most beauti- 
 ful and agreeable flowers ; these tied together look nobly, especially when judiciously 
 placed : but enough of this. He who would know more sorts of friezal ornaments 
 must consult the works* of the ancients, in which he will find them, though the be- 
 fore-mentioned are the principal, and most in use. 
 
 Although the ancients teach, that the fronts of buildings (which are the parts most 
 in view) ought to be more adorned than the flanks and rears, yet some modern mas- 
 ters have misunderstood this, and apprehended, as if in those parts the ornaments 
 could not be too many; nay, they have crowded the mouldings of the architrave, 
 frieze, and cornice, and of the pedestals under columns, with small carving, in such 
 a manner, that it rather causes confusion than ornament, as appears by their works : 
 but when used in moderation, and between the principal ornaments a part is left 
 plain and blank, it causes grandeur and decorum. 
 
 Something is also to be remarked about pediments and key stones. Pediments 
 (or tops of fronts) like the forehead of a man, shew the principal aspect of buildings, 
 especially wdien their spandrells (or faces) are agreeably enriched by good masters 
 with histories, sacrifices, arms, or the like, in marble, according to the quality of the 
 fabric. 
 
 Sometimes also are put over pediments, trophies, coats of arms, or shields ; which, 
 if well cut and placed, have a noble effect. 
 
 As for key-stones of arches over gates and niches, these may be enriched:— 
 
 In the Tuscan order, with wild beasts ; and between heads of cyclops, or giants. 
 
 In the Hone order, with lions heads, ox Hercules vi'iih his lion’s skin over his head. 
 
 In the Ionic order, with tame beasts, or heads of Pallas or Amazons, with their 
 head attire. 
 
 In the Roman order, w ith heads of demi-gods, as Romulus Julius CxBsar, and such 
 heroes. And, 
 
 In the Corinthian order, w ith heads of Diana, or other goddesses and nymphs 
 richly wrought. 
 
 ^ There is a large collection of them in Langley's Ancient Masonry. 
 
Of Architecture^ 
 
 SI 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF THE RISES OF THE ORNAMENTS, COLUMNS, ANP THEIR 
 
 PEDESTALS. 
 
 Having spoken in the former chapter, of the decoration of the orders, we shall 
 now, in a brief manner, treat of the rises and divisions of the columns, with their 
 ornaments and pedestals.. 
 
 The ornament (or entablature) of the Tuscan column rises one module and seven- 
 eight parts of a module (by module is meant, throughout the orders, the pillars dia- 
 meter next above the base). The column, with its base and capital rises seven mo^ 
 dules and a half, and the pedestal one module seven eights : this being agreed, the 
 entablature and pedestal are each one fourth of the column’s rise ; the base under 
 the column, and capital over it, are each in rise half a module; the lessening (or di- 
 minution) of the shaft of the column at the neck, under the capital, is one fourth of 
 a module, and it begins below atone fourth of the column’s rise. 
 
 The entablature of the Doric column rises two modules and one eight ; the column^ 
 with its base capital, is eight modules and a half, and the pedestal two modules and 
 two fifteenths : this being fixed, the entablature is one fourth, and the pedestal three 
 and three fourths of the column’s rise. The base and capital are each, as in the 
 Tuscan, half a module. The diminution at the neck of the shaft is one fifth of a 
 module, and begins, below at three parts one fourth of. the column’s rise, divided int^ > 
 twelve parts. 
 
 The entablature of the Ionic column rises one module and three fourths ; • the co- 
 lumn, with its base and capital, is eight modules' and three fourths, and the pedestal 
 two modules and a half: this settled, the entablature is one fifth, and the pedestal 
 three parts and a half of the column’s rise, (But if the frieze be carved, the entablar 
 ture is four parts and a half of the column’s rise, and in the following orders the 
 same). The capital with its volutes, is little more than half a module, and the base 
 is just.half a module (and in the following orders the same). The diminution at neck 
 is one sixth of a module, and begins below at three parts and a half of the column’s 
 rise, divided into twelve parts, as aforesaid. 
 
 The entablature of the Roman column rises one module and twelve twentieth parts 
 of a module ; the column, with its base and capital, is nine modules and three fourths ; 
 the pedestal rises three modules: which laid down, the entablature is one fifth, and 
 the pedestal three parts and one fourth of the column’s rise : the capital rises one mo- 
 dule and one sixth — tho base as before; the diminution at neck is one seventh of a , 
 
32 Of Architecture. 
 
 module, and begins below at the rise of three parts and one fourth of the column, 
 divided as aforesaid. 
 
 The entablature of the Corinthian column rises two modules ; the column, with its 
 base and capital, is ten modules in rise; the pedestal three modules and one third: 
 after which, the entablature is one fifth, and the pedestal one third of the column’s 
 rise : the capital rises one module and one sixth — the base as before ; the diminution 
 at neck is one eighth of a module, and begins below at one third of the column’s 
 rise. 
 
 The breadth of i\\e Tuscan and Done pedestals ought always to be equal with the 
 plinths or bases of their columns ; and though the plinths in the three other orders 
 project more at their bottoms, by reason of their sweeps, their pedestals must never- 
 theless be alike perpendicular with the upper points of r their plinths. 
 
 Let me here fix the height of a statue on a pedestal placed next a column ; since 
 many mistake in it. In right proportion it ought not to rise higher than two thirds 
 of the column; but then. the column should not be too high, or too low, but stand 
 V on a base only, Avhich is frequently continued through the building. As forpedestals, 
 they serve only to raise a column, and augment its ornament. We ought also, for 
 elegance, to take care, that the figure and its pedestal be proportionate to each 
 other; because, if the latter be too great or too small, the .figure woiild become toO 
 small, or monstrous. 
 
 In fine, as all the parts of a building ought to answer in a proportionate disposi- 
 tion, so should the figures, whether carved or painted, be neither too big or little : 
 wherefore they must be governed by the height of the place where they are to stand, 
 
 ^HAP. III. 
 
 or THE PROPERTY OP A BUILDING, AND OBSERVATIONS THEREON.. 
 
 I MUST believe, according to the evidence of writers, and the tradition of travellers, 
 that the Italians have the best taste, as well for architecture as painting; and though 
 it is certain, that Germany., France, England, Holland, and other countries, have 
 produced fine architects, yet at this time they are not comparable to the Italians, 
 whose manner, which is the antique, is now followed by the most polite nations. 
 The old taste was known by the name of the Gothic, as a certain writer affirms, 
 saying, “ that t\\e Gothic manner of building of the ancient Germans (which at that 
 time gave law to all other nations,) is quite abolished by the Italians : nay, he cries 
 out, — what magnificent and choice wonders do we not see in proud lofty 
 
35 
 
 Of Architecture . 
 
 Home especially, where it seems as if Nature and Art have mutually agreed to 
 establish their thrones, and exert their powers, in order to make this famous city the 
 mistress of the world, and the beauty of the universe ! St. Peters church, the Yatican, 
 the Rotunda, and many other structures (serving the whole world for examples, and 
 without which architecture is but a confused mass,) drawy^early thousands of people 
 and young artists thither to improve themselves by them, for the service of their own 
 countries; so-''that the finest and newest things which we see in those countries, 
 lately built, and still going forward, are designed in the Italian taste.” Wherefore 
 it is to them that those fine piles, the Stadthouse at Amsterdajn, the new Rutheraii 
 church, and divers other structures, as well without as within the town, do owe their 
 origin and beauty. 
 
 We are then much indebted to tliose great artists, Vitruvius, Serlio, Philibert de 
 I Orme, Palladio, Cataneo, Leo Raptista Santoritio, Vignola, Scamozzi, and many* 
 others, who have enlightened the world w ifn their wmrks and writings. And I think 
 that no one can be a good architect w^ho has not studied those authors. The French 
 acknowledge, that their great improvements in this art are owing to the works and 
 precepts of those excellent masters. 
 
 We shall now speak of entire buildings so far as they serve for ornament in painting. 
 The goodness of a building springs not merely from the aforesaid rises, breadths, or 
 depths of the orders, but from an opposite conjunction (or bringing together,) of 
 different proportionate parts into an exquisite body, which, by reason of its excellent 
 form, whether in height or breadth, appears to the judgment of the knowing both 
 admirable and beautiful ; especially when fitly adapted to the quality of the owner, 
 and has general conveniency with respect to custom. 
 
 Ill its particular parts a building requires, 1. A firm foundation. 2. A large and 
 convenient stair-case. 3. A spacious entrance. 4. An elegant division of doors, 
 windows, and other openings. 5. A handsome frontispiece, &c. These skilfully 
 worked, and judiciously disposed, must needs produce a fine effect. 
 
 Thus much for the outward face of a building. 
 
 If any be inclined to object, that decorum consists more in inward contrivance, 
 let me suppose a stranger to come into a town, and, passing through the streets, he 
 were asked, what he thought of the buildings ? what answer would he make? would 
 
 he not say they were either fine or mean ? or would he say, -I must first see the 
 
 iusides, and whether the foundation be firm, the apartments well disposed and 
 
 well lighted, and whether the under-ground offices be good ? This would be ~ 
 
 ridiculous : it is true a house must have these properties ; but it is idle to think, 
 that therefore we cannot judge of the building by the outside only ; as if the person 
 who is able to give a design for a fabric cannot also compart its inside. Let it be 
 
 VOL. II. V 
 
34 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 asked then, wherein consists a good division within ; whether it is a science which 
 painters know not ; whether there must be a fixed number of halls and apartments 
 of a determinate form, length, rise, and breadth, and what those must be; whether 
 there must be one, twm, or more stacks of stairs ; whether each room must have one 
 chimney or two ; and whether the floors must be wooden or stone; or whether a 
 palace is, for its largeness, more beautiful than a common or citizen’s house ? 
 
 But, w aving other mens opinions, we shall proceed in our purpose, soliir as concerns 
 a painter in these countries, and no further. Our judgment is, that the best propor- 
 tion in a building is one third higher in rise than breadth, especially if it be covered 
 in with a compass roof and its appurtenances; but if flat-roofed, a third wider than 
 high, and to be commanded by a single order rising from bottom to top. It wmuld 
 be improper to adorn them with statues, bass-reliefs, festoons, &c. For such heavy 
 and close structures, without w eight, and moreover open on top, are proper for an 
 amphitheatre, but not for a temple or palace ; I speak with respect to custom and 
 decorum, which must always go together, since nothing is beautiful without its na- 
 tural qualities. The case is as a woman in a man’s habit, and the contrary ; or a 
 water-vase adorned with an olive-branch and thunder ; or an oil-vessel with tritons 
 and dolphins. 
 
 In painting a good building there must appear, besides the architecture, perspec- 
 tive and colouring, an orderly disposition, producing elegance, otherwise it is of no 
 worth. Orderly disposition consists in so joining the parts, that they mutually set 
 off each other in a pleasing variety, and thereby exhibit a fine piece of work, and an 
 agreeable figure; this variety springs from the inequality of openings, or windows, 
 whether oblongs, squares, circles, or ovals; the dispositions of these openings, near 
 and over each other, are founded on reason, as shall be explained by an example. 
 
 We exhibit in Plate LIX. a temple topped with a cupola, or rather a house round- 
 roofed. On each side of the door a flight of steps descend ballustraded ; underneath 
 which is a vault; and over the entrance a balcony: now, beginning from below, 
 we shall shew what figure each opening ought to have in an orderly disposition. 
 The door under the steps is square, rising somewhat more than its diameter: that 
 of the entrance is circular on top, and rises one third more than its diameter : that 
 of the balcony also rises one third more than its breadth, but is square or flat on 
 top; and then we meet the roof rounding again. Now let us dispose it otherwise, 
 and make the door below circular, the next square, the next round, and no roof 
 appearing. Thus much for doors ; for we find no other than round and square ones. 
 The same method may be taken with window's ; when there are two ranges, one 
 above the other, the undermost may be oblong, and the uppermost compass, but 
 lower: if there be another range of windows above these, next the roof, they ought 
 
Of Arcliitedure. 55 
 
 to be perfect squares. This rule we have taken from tlie works of the ancients, who 
 always gave their openings or windows more rise in the first story than the second, 
 still lessening in the third, yet all alike in diameter. Windows should never be lower 
 than about three feet from the floor within. If there be wundow^s in the basement- 
 story (where the walling is thickest, and is usually finished with a Rustic order,) they 
 must be square, and above either scheme little rounding, or flat: and thus the one 
 shew the other, with respect to rounduess and squareness. If now there were com- 
 pass-windows in the basement and upper stories, the uppermost should be circular, 
 and the undermost oval, with their longest diameter parallel with the level of the 
 building, because, being pressed by the w^eight, their arch is dilated ; whencontrarily 
 the others do not bear any weight. But circular windows are growm out of use, as 
 not admitting light so well as the square ones. 
 
 If in the piers between windows there were the niches and figures in them, and 
 over head room for a bass relief, then the table for it must be square, but circular, 
 where it is over a square w indow. 
 
 As for doors over each other, I say, that if there were over the cornice a compass 
 pediment, and on both sides a ballustrade with figures, then the balcony door ought 
 not to be circular but square and ornamented with pilasters ; yet the door of the en- 
 trance may be circular. We ought even not to set on the balcony a ballustrade with 
 figures, but ornament it with balls or other low things. The one or other ballustrade 
 must be also diversified ; for two parts alike in two such eminent places have an ill 
 effect ; w herefore one of them should be close w'alled (parapet-ways) and the face of it 
 may then be enriched with bass-reliefs of figures, festoons, &c. 
 
 I think what I have said a sufficient guide for the other kinds of buildings ; for 
 these observations are on all occasions unalterable to a painter, with respect to 
 agreeable disposition. 
 
 There is still somewhat behind, which, though contrary to the disposition afore- 
 said, must be animadverted; it is touching a flower garden, which, if fine, must 
 needs be regular, as well with respect to its general form, as its particular division ; 
 at least the two sides ought to be alike, whether set off with pots, vases, statues, or 
 other ornaments. We are taught, indeed, that uniformity is stiff, and not painter- 
 like ; wherefore we should avoid it as much as possible : but weighing the precept 
 maturely, we shall find the fault to lie in our misapprehension of it : questionless 
 things proceeding from rule and order must be regular, but that regularity may 
 nevertheless be somewhat hidden on occasion ; wherefore, though a garden be uni- 
 form on both sides, we are under no necessity of shewing all that uniformity : one 
 side is sufficient, the rest may be handsomely hid, or broke with a tree, piece of stone- 
 work, column, or a corner of the house. But let us not from hence absolutely con- 
 
 F 2 
 
36 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 elude regular objects to be unnecessary in an ordonnance ; for they sometimes fur- 
 nish all the decorum of a picture ; yet if we see but a part of them, we may conceive 
 the residue. 
 
 More examples of breaking uniformity may be these : when a figure stands on 
 each side of a gate or alcove, a man may be placed or sit down before one of them 
 in order to create inequality ; so also if by means of a curtain one of those figures 
 be shaded. If a bass-relief be set on each side of the gate or alcoye, one of them 
 may partly be covered by the personages, to answer our purpose. If without doors^ 
 on both sides of an entrance, there be a carved lion or spliinx, we may break oft' one 
 of their heads. Solomon’s throne was adorned with twelve golden lions : we need 
 not see them all, the six on one side shew sufficiently, that there must be as many 
 on the other : two or three entire are enough, of the rest we may see only a part here 
 and there. Thus we must always manage in such cases. 
 
 CHAP. IV, 
 
 OF THE MATCHING OF THE VARIOUS COLOURED MARBLES, AS WELL 
 
 WITHOUT AS WITHIN A BUILDING ; WITH THE MANAGEMENT OF 
 
 TOMBS, VASA, AND BACCHANALIAN TERMS. 
 
 Objects have a fine effect, when nature and art are joined together by a skilful 
 hand ; and, though all eyes are not alike qualified to apprehend the reasons of it, yet 
 they are, by a wonderful sagacity, sensible of it, confessing that it is beautiful, and 
 so ought to be, though the one person, as I say, understand it, and the other do not: 
 and for this reason ; art has such a power, that though Nature be beautiful in her 
 productions, yet they would not perfectly please our eyes, without the help of art. 
 
 Nature produces an infinity of fine stones of various colours and qualities ; but 
 art alone judges of their fitness and orderly location as to rank and dignity, inso- 
 much that, though ignorant in art, we can clearly apprehend that it ought to be so, 
 and no otherwise. 
 
 We know, that the white is soft and tender, and lovely to the eye ; the black con- 
 trarily is melancholy and disagreeable. We place then the black among the red, 
 and upon the red, whke. These three coloured stones are capitals, and cannot be 
 otherwise disposed as to their natures and qualities, without forcing nature, and 
 running counter to art. 
 
 However, their rank and application in architectonic use may be these : 
 
 In the Tuscan order, as undermost, black marble. 
 
Of Architecture. 
 
 37 
 
 In the Doric, green. 
 
 In the Ionic, yellow. 
 
 In the Roman, red. And, 
 
 In the Corinthian, w'hite. 
 
 If any ask why the red is not set before the yellow, since the red is in its nature 
 darker than the yellow? I answer, That it is because the red and green are opposers 
 in strength ; contrarily, yellow is proper to green, since yellow' and blue produce 
 green. 
 
 If at any time we are obliged to place between two stones of one colour, a stone pf 
 another, the following mixtures are mostly in use. 
 
 Between two black marbles suit best jasper, copper, or brass. 
 
 Betwe n two serpentine, or green marble stones, the same. 
 
 Between two red stones, white. ^ 
 
 Between red, black, or serpentine stone, Pisan white-eyed marble. 
 
 Between two grey stones, free-stone, or yellowish white marble. 
 
 Between tw o dotted long veiny stones, one that is speckled ; and the contrary. 
 
 Between two jaspers, yellow, or fleshy white marble. 
 
 A marble painter must observe the conveniency and place for marbling; if tl;ie 
 place be large, or a hall, then he may do it with force ; but in a smaller compass 
 he ought to moderate it, and keep it faint, that the place may not seem thereby les- 
 sened, or the eye oflended. If the room be hung with pictures, he should consult 
 men of experience, especially the master who painted them^ what colouring will fit 
 best. 
 
 About light pictures, dark marble is best, and about dark pictures, light marble, 
 as Pisan, jasper, or any tending to a light yellow. But if it be a single colour, such 
 as bass-reliefs, then free-stone suits best. 
 
 In bringing many sorts of coloured marbles together, we may, for instance, in a 
 frontispiece, either single or double colonaded and pedestaled, veiy agreeably dis- 
 pose them thus : vide Plate LX. The base and pedestal mouldings may be black, 
 little eyed ; the block or square of the pedestals, dark red, much dotted, less veined ; 
 the plinths of the columns and pilasters may be white, the columns, light red, or 
 Pisan marble with large white-eyed veins on both sides the eying to be alike ; the 
 pilasters also light red, moderately eyed, the capitals white, the architrave black, like 
 the base and mouldings of the pedestals ; the frieze may be dark red, like the blocks 
 or squares of the pedestals ; arid the cornice black again like the architrave ; if the 
 frieze have raised ornaments of foliage, children, triglyphs, ox-sculls, &c. they ought 
 to be white : if over the cornice be a parapet, it may be entirely of another colour, 
 and the pedestals and the members of Pisan or other cross-veined marble, and the 
 
38 Of Archittcture . 
 
 paiiiiels or faces of grey marble, or white, if adorned with bass-reliefs ; the figures 
 or vases on top also white. 
 
 This distribution may be doubled, and varied on occasion : the friezes and columns 
 may be white, the bases and capitals gold ; and so may also the ornaments be ; to 
 wit, triglyphs, little blocks and foliage ; the rest may remain as before. 
 
 In a hall of red or other marble (where the mouldings of the ornaments are dif- 
 ferent, larger or smaller) we may make a door frontispiece, or alcove of white or 
 other marble; but if the members continue along the hall, the frontispiece or alcove 
 Ought to be of the same colour with the room. The room may be of one order, 
 and the frontispiece, alcove, and chimney of another. Thus the room may be Ionic, 
 and the rest Corinthian or Roman. The pavement of the floor must correspond 
 with the building I mean, if the room have pilasters, the bands (or bordering 
 marbles tying the pavement) must run up to them, whether the pilasters stand wide 
 or close ; for they ought to be so laid, as to shew every where a regularity, whatever 
 jets or breaks the door, frontispiece, alcove, &c. may occasion ; as a prudent gar- 
 dener disposes his parterres, one round, another square, octangular, &c. always 
 contriving such an uniformity as closes with the borders. In the middle of the hall 
 may be introduced such figures or compartments, as best answer the general pur- 
 pose, and they may be of what colour you please. 
 
 In chambers or galleries, where the sides are unlike, we are obliged to part them 
 by some figure coming betvveen ; and yet the bands which bind the sides must come 
 every where alike. If there be columns on both sides of the gallery, the bands 
 must run, crossing it, from one to the other. 
 
 Proceed we now to party-coloured tombs, and other stones. On white sphinxes, 
 lionesses, &c. suits well a tomb of serpentine or porphyry ; and on a black plinth, 
 if no figures or other ornaments support it, porphyry also looks well. On brackets 
 of copper or^brass, the tomb may be of black marble. With grave-stones, or other 
 bluish stone, agrees well violet-colour stone, or porphyry, copper or brass. Note 
 here, that the black must always be undermost, especially when divers sorts of co- 
 lours are placed in one another, as we have shew ed in the orders. 
 
 Great vases and urns are always of the same stone as their bases, as w^ell in 
 niches as on pedestals ; if on pedestals, the bases ought to project equal with the 
 blocks precisely. 
 
 The Priapus-terms anciently used in the Racchanalia, were mostly of wood, not 
 very large, and pointed underneath for conveniency of carriage from place to place, 
 whither the gang of satyrs, fauni and bacchanals, determined to go. Having pitch- 
 ed on a place for their stay, they fixed it in the ground, by means of the point afore- 
 
Of Architecture. 39 
 
 said. These terms were sometimes painted of a brick colour, sometimes also 
 white ; about the mouth and breast they were smeared with blue grapes. 
 
 The posts, or guides, called hermes^ were huge and immoveable, and of white 
 stone, set on rude heaps of stone, in order to be conspicuous to travellers at a dis- 
 tance ; for which reason they were also sometimes placed on pedestals or blocks. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 OF THE VEINS AND EYES IN STONES USED IN ARCHITECTURE^ AS 
 WELL WITHOUT AS WITHIN] AND HOW TO DISPOSE THEM. 
 
 The beauty in painting buildings consists in an elegant expression of the dif- 
 ference of stones which compose them ; and this may be effected not only by 
 their division, but also by their colours, especially in outside-work, which is not 
 so much heeded as the inward, and is subject to more iiiconveniencies of rain, haib 
 and wind ; and if standing in damp places, their effect in a few years visibly ap- 
 pears, it* the stones be not very hard, by the dropping of mouldings and projec- 
 tures in several parts. 
 
 Fountains must be supposed to suffer much, and become very mossy by being 
 dropped on; and so do tombs and grave-stones, but principally pyramids, which 
 are not set up so much for the sake of their polished bodies, as for their forms and 
 huge bulk ; wherefore it is no great matter whether the stones of these be of one 
 sort or colour or not : they are often seen of many sorts of stones, some as they 
 have been found, and others changed through time : yet the cement suffers most, 
 by being eat up ; whereby the stones get loose, and must needs drop. Again, some 
 stones, being more weak and brittle than others, and corroded by the air, damp- 
 ness, and drought, are broke in pieces by the pressure of those over them, and thus 
 leave gaps and breaks, wherein the rain gathers, out of which grow weeds, mosS, 
 and other greens, sometimes whole branches ; all which, at the year’s end, decay, 
 and become green sap, trickling thence down the stones. 
 
 We shall here stop a little to say something touching abuses. I know not how 
 some can so far relish slovenliness, as to spoil not only statues and fine figures, but 
 also entire buildings ; if they were broken or mouldered pieces, ruins, and other 
 decayed stones, it would be no damage if ever so much muddled and be-dropped ; 
 but it is very improper to serve entire and fine figures thus, and in places too where 
 are neither trees or any thing else to occasion it. The same they do in buildings look- 
 
40 
 
 Of A , xhitecture. 
 
 ing as fresh as at first ; were the spots seen on them, natural to the stones, it would 
 he more proper than all the gutters usually represented to trickle down them : 
 wherefore care must be taken, before we begin to paint things supposed to be drop- 
 ped on, that a difference may appear between nearness and distance; for as spots 
 in clothes are more visible near than a-far off, so the faintness of remote objects 
 must be observed. But let me ask. What foulness of wet and dust can stick to 
 smooth bodies, which rain, hail, or snow do not wash off? But they may decay 
 and be consumed by time ; especially those facing the north, which suffer all ex- 
 tremities. We see many instances of decay in ancient buildings, where are figures 
 so eaten up by time, that it is hardly discernible, whether they represented men or 
 Avomen ; like figures of snow partly dissolved by the sun-beams. 
 
 I speak not here so much against the dropping upon and muddling such objects, 
 as of the abuse when the cause of such an effect does not appear ; for without a 
 probable reason why a thing should be thus, or thus, art becomes obstinacy. But 
 to return to our subject. 
 
 It is certainly praise-w^orthy to take some pains in shewing the stones of build- 
 ings, and their veining and eyeing, when they are judiciously and agreeably 
 disposed, according to rule: I say it is commendable to him who understands 
 perspective. 
 
 The parts of building within (which are not so subject to the teeth of time), are 
 not so apt to decay as those without; the cement also lasts longer, which makes 
 them keep clean and entire, their joints too seem almost invisible, and the whole to 
 be as one stone. For this reason we must avoid the mistakes of some painters, who 
 vein and eye their work, and afterwards divide it into stones, whereby one vein or 
 eye happens oftentimes to run through two or three stones at once ; whence we must 
 conclude it to be what it is, mere painting and not the life : whereas I think it the 
 most certain way first to divide the work into stones, and then to marble and eye 
 them ; observing that each stone have a particular eye, to shew the difference be- 
 tween the casual dropping and the marbling. 
 
 Marble buildings have a beautiful effect when the architecture is fine and well or- 
 namented ; and this as well in painting as the life : orderly disposition is one of the 
 best reasons thereof, Avithout which it cannot have that vast agreeableness. 
 
 A well-informed architect takes especial care of the setting the stones of his build- 
 ing in such a manner as to blazon its beauty, and improve it, and thereby create 
 harmony ; wherefore he disposes the eye-veiny stones in the properest manner ; for 
 instance, in a single colonaded portico, the veiny eyes must oppose each other, 
 sloping from out to in, or contrary. The same method must be observed in the pilas- 
 ters, and all parts that are paired ; so that the work may appear regular at a dis- 
 
41 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 taiice, taking especial care that they be eyed alike, to keep the eye always in a ba- 
 lance between them. The stones for the architrave, frieze, and cornice, should be 
 so chosen, that the veining fall perpendicular, in order to keep the members distinct ; 
 which they would not be were the veins to fall in with the mouldings. 
 
 It remains to be observed in marbling columns, that the eye-veins ought to receive 
 the strongest light on the relieved and swelling parts, in order to aid the flat of the 
 picture by art ; which nature wants not, as being round of herself: wherefore it 
 would look ill, that the most dark of the eye-veins come on the weaker parts, be- 
 cause it would render the effect you proposed abortive. 
 
 Imagine a piece of walling divided into three pannels, on each side of which stand 
 two columns; the tw^o first ought to oppose each other; their veining must either 
 be level or run diagonally against each other, outw ardly or inwardly : the two others 
 must do the same, and so on. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 OF RUINS. 
 
 Hitherto we have spoken of the beauty and regularity of entire buildings ; where- 
 fore it is proper next to treat of fragments and ruins, equally necessary with the 
 former. 
 
 I have sometimes wondered how it happens, that among the painters of figures and 
 landscape, who make use of buildings and other brick- work, so few exhibit whole 
 and highly finished ones : all they shew is, ruins, broken walls, and decayed stones, 
 but seldom entire and perfect structures ; because, as I take it, they will be at no 
 trouble to search antiquity for the forms and most beautiful parts of architecture, 
 whereby they might learn to produce something curious ; asupinity proceeding from 
 their want of knowledge, and ambition to obtain it. 
 
 Although many think that a piece of ruins does not require so great a regard as an 
 entire building, they are much mistaken ; for the one as well as the other depends 
 on measure and proportion : yet some will go and throw down a part of a building, 
 and intermix with it some fragments of capitals, pieces of friezes, cornices, and the 
 like, of an order foreign to the building; which, though very wrong, they salve by 
 supposing, that w'hen a building is in ruins no one will have the curiosity to examine 
 the rubbish to see whether there be a wrong capital, frieze, or cornice ; and, grant- 
 ing such were to be found, the fault would be none, since those broken parts might 
 be brought thither casually. But this is a lame excuse : to speak the truth, I can- 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 G 
 
42 
 
 Of Archil cchf re. 
 
 not apprehend how any one can he so wilful, since no more knowledge and trouhle 
 are necessary to the best than the worst of things, to the whole than to the half ; in 
 the one we must use the foot-rule and compasses as well as in the other. If a beau- 
 tiful remain of a great building adorn a fine landscape, and look grand, how much 
 more one in perfection? He then who will take pains may certainly, by practice, 
 overcome all difficulties, if he have ambition enough to study the best things. But 
 let me not be understood to speak against the choice of ruins, much less endeavour 
 to hinder any one from the use of them ; since I am sensible, that every man has na- 
 turally a particular taste for some thing (as we have formerly said) wherein he may 
 excel. I desire not to discourage painters of ruins, or to raise a pique against that 
 sort of objects ; my only drift is to shew, that we ought to study the rests of anti- 
 quity with care and attention, and chiefly to learn the ancient state of old structures, 
 in order to know perfectly what they were in their best condition. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 miNCIPAL DIRECTIONS FOR PAINTING THE ORNAMENTS OP 
 
 HALLS, ROOMS, &C. 
 
 In this sort of work w^ must, in the first place, have an eye to the regularity and 
 division of the architecture, and, if that be beautiful, not in the least hurt it under 
 pretence of decorum, or acting painter-like ; and if at any time we are obliged to 
 alter this conduct, it must nevertheless be in favour of the architecture. 
 
 2. That the painting, of what kind soever it be, must tend to the lustre and mag- 
 nificence of the building ; I speak with respect to painting the wood-work, whether 
 it be marbled or plain. 
 
 3. That the ornaments to be painted agree with those of the room, and be go- 
 verned by the same order in architecture. 
 
 4. That in pannels, niches and windows ought to be artfully painted, what you 
 would have appear to be real or naturally there, whether tapestry or prospect; if 
 tapestry, it must appear to be such ; if a view, it must look like a view ; the former 
 By being bordered, and the latter by its sky or sun every where agreeing with the 
 light of the room. 
 
 5. The master must beware of representing in a room three or more diflerent 
 hours of the day at the same time ; nor in histories, unless they be in the manner of 
 tsqiestry. 
 
43 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 (j. He must never inclose white marble bass-reliefs with wood-work, as being re- 
 pugnant to custom and likelihood. 
 
 Lastly, since excess often abates the majesty of a fabric, the artist should avoid 
 many littlenesses in the divisions and ornaments : on such occasions historical figures 
 should not exceed three or four feet in height, be the painting ever so large : tapestry 
 figures exceeding the life are unjustifiable ; they look monstrous in a small room, 
 and lessen a larger. 
 
 It were to be wished, that great men and lovers, who bespeak such works, had 
 some previous knowledge of such things as these ; at least, that they were informed 
 of them, and would assent to the artist’s opinion in the execution of them ; since it 
 is reasonable that his design, if it pleases, be followed. 
 
 Few artists are solicitous about inside ornaments, either in reference to their ele- 
 gance and splendour, or their uses and convenience ; as is evident in many old mas- 
 ters works, wherein we generally see too great a simplicity, all is plain and mean ; 
 tables, benches, chairs, kitchen-stuff, drinking-vessels, &c. And, what is more, 
 oftentimes a company of old and young people in a room with never a chair in it ; 
 and sometimes, no more than bare walls, and a curtain hanging for no purpose : or- 
 naments and foliage are seldom seen in their works ; and when they are, they are so 
 improperly and disjunctively applied, that we must conclude them rather to serve 
 for humour than decorum : certain signs that such masters were ignorant both of the 
 naturalness, needfulness, and ^application of objects. 
 
 It is certain that the ancient Greeks and Romans were not originally so sumptu- 
 ous in their house-furniture as afterwards they came to be ; and it is as easy to think, 
 that there was a difference between the nobility and commonalty, as well in their 
 buildings and dress, as in other respects ; the one used plate at his table ; the other, 
 earthen-ware or painted wood ; the one had bass-reliefs, statues, hangings, or tapes- 
 tries in his house ; the other was content with bare walls ; each according to his 
 fancy or ability. Truly I am surprised to think of my first composition, and how 
 disjointed my conceptions were ; often exhibiting a royal history in a stable or cot- 
 tage, and as often the contrary : questionless every master of a house furnishes it 
 with what is proper for each apartment, whether kitchen, chamber, state-room, or 
 gallery ; one apartment has a bed or couch and its appurtenances, chests, tables, 
 and chairs ; another has hangings more or less costly, floor-carpets, stands, sconces, 
 looking-glasses, &c. Another has benches, a chimney-piece, circular couches fitting 
 the table, and other things proper to the room : and thus, other apartments. 
 
 Some imagine that chairs were not anciently in use, but men sat on cushions, as 
 in the Eastern countries, or else rested on couches. When a certain person had re- 
 
 G 2 
 
44 
 
 Of yirchiiecture . 
 
 presented yEneas and Dido in a stately hall, and she placed on a low small half-step, 
 covered with a carpet, with the young Ascankis in her lap, and jEiieas by her side, 
 and some ladies sitting here and there on cushions on the floor (which was covered 
 with a green carpet), I was surprised to see a large round table stand in a corner on 
 a side of the painting, and this serving up as for an entertainment, and yet not a chair 
 f ear it ; I asked the master why the ladies had not chairs or benches, and whether 
 this circumstance was thus to be found in history? he answered, that in those times 
 : either chairs or benches were known. I could hardly forbear laughing ; but ask- 
 ing him, whether the company were to stand to their victuals, because of the height 
 of the table, he began to see his error ; yet in excuse said, “ They will make use of 
 the couch which stands yonder against the hanging.” This would have been a tole- 
 rable come-off, had the couch been made for the table; but by ill luck the one w^as 
 square, the other round. I said no more, because I would not augment his blushes. 
 
 Others have made the same mistake, as was the case of one who, as the report 
 goes, representing Abraham's offering, drew him with a scimitar or bending sword in 
 his hand, and a straight scabbard by his side. 
 
 1 once made the same blunder, when my inclination for composition w’^as greater 
 than my skill, in the story of Hercules spinning by Omphale. I had seen, in a design 
 of JBartholet, that Hercules was much bigger than any of the women ; wherefore I 
 also drew him larger, and dressed in women’s apparel, having sleeves closed at hands 
 (like Sardanapalus amongst his women, in Merians historical Chronicle), a distaff* 
 in his girdle, a spindle in his hand, and pearls about his neck ; and, in order to shew 
 that they were Omphale s clothes, I placed her by him stark naked. Now I appeal 
 to any one how well the garment could fit Omphale^ seeing it was neither too short 
 or too straight fqr Hercules, though half as tall again as she. But I afterwards rec- 
 tified my conduct. 
 
 It is plain that such oversights proceed from ignorance or lame instruction, and 
 principally in w hat concerns embellishment ; I say, embellishment of any kind what- 
 soever, whether within or without doors ; for few know the importance of this part 
 of art, and the uncommon effects of it. 
 
 We may, from the works of old and judicious masters, here and there borrow 
 some of their thoughts, and use them in a proper manner in our own works. The 
 famous Poussin, in his fi,nding of Moses, shews the Nile, with a water-god ; and with 
 good reason (as we shall prove in the chapter treating of the authority painters have 
 to represent spiritual and inanimate beings under human forms) : but it is ridiculous, 
 in my opinion, that the same figure, with all its adjuncts, should be placed on the 
 strand of a river, and near it Narcissus viewing himself in the water ; on a suppo- 
 
45 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 sition that, if it be but a water-god, all is well ; for, thinks the master, — it suits well. 
 It is a fine figure. — Besides, if Poussin durst do it. Why may not we? but it is against 
 reason; indeed, were the sphinx and children left out, it may be passable enough. 
 
 Who sets out a room of entertainment, and it does not shew whether the dinner 
 be over or not, by the cloth laid, bottles, glasses, cisterns, and all things in order, 
 as before dinner ; and empty bottles lying in disorder, empty dishes, a dog gnaw- 
 ing a bone, chairs displaced, table-cloth half turned up, and such like, aftei dinner ? 
 
 Or, 
 
 W4io can approve in Tesla's, dipping of Achilles, Thetis s lying in an open gallery, 
 where also is a cradle ? 
 
 As for moveable embellishments, it is improper to shew Mark Anthony and Cleo- 
 patra in their grandeur and luxury, without a retinue, and as in a private collation, 
 seeing we know they had such a crowd of music, buffoons, jugglers, and other loose 
 people about them. Or can we represent Christ lying in the manger, attended by 
 Joseph and Mary, and the three kings waiting on him, and that in a stable full of' 
 beast-provender, and on the wall a Ian and flail hanging, besides other utensils of 
 husbandry, and yet not a countryman or servant to appear ; or a chest, box, saw, or 
 square to be seen ? (whether Joseph hired the stable, or found it void of people, is 
 another consideration :) moreover, one of the principal figures is in a suit of armour, 
 and bare-headed, and yet his head-piece is not to be seen. 
 
 One of my fellow disciples once painted a collation, and I asked him. Why he put 
 not knives on the table? He answered, That knives were not antique. Very well, 
 thought I, are then the bread and meat, and a three-legged stool with a back stand- 
 ing by, antique ? 
 
 From all which considerations it is plain, that a judicious master must take par- 
 ticular thought about the by-works; seeing it is as bad to leave out something that 
 is needful, as to add what is unnecessary. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OF THE PICTURES PROPER TO VARIOUS APARTMENTS. 
 
 TChe nature, property, and use of pictures in general, is, to keep the senses, by a 
 pleasing variety of objects, as figures, landscape, &c. in a continual employ and con- 
 templation. 
 
 Their nature has a near affinity with that of the things they represent, when those 
 
46 ‘ Of Architecture . 
 
 are done by a skilful hand ; and therefore they can, when natural things are wanting, 
 fully satisfy. 
 
 Their property lies in their application to meet places ; and they cannot be dis- 
 placed without hurting, nay undoing naturalness. 
 
 As for the use of pictures, it is in the occasion we have for them, and the places 
 they are to serve for, in order to gratify the senses of the owners ; they must be well 
 expressed, and fall in with the architecture in the agreement of the various objects 
 w ith the ornaments of the buildings. 
 
 If this be unintelligible, I shall endeavour to explain myself. I say then, That it 
 is not sufficient for a painter to design w^ork for apartments at random, and introduce 
 therein what fancies he pleases, or best understands ; for he ought to consider whe- 
 ther it agree w ith the place, and be proper there : if therefore he would go on with 
 certainty, he must, in the first place, consult the architecture, and then the three 
 points following : 
 
 1. The quality, or condition of the building. 
 
 2. The building itself. 
 
 3. The apartments in it. 
 
 First, let him consider whether the owmer be a prince, lord, magistrate, or 
 merchant. 
 
 Secondly, whether the building be public, as a town-house, church, palace, &c. or 
 private, as for a merchant or citizen. 
 
 Lastly, whether it be a hall, chamber, parlour, kitchen, or the like. 
 
 Thus far in general : but if we build a palace for a king, the apartments must be 
 contrived for other uses than those for a merchant, or even a town-house : for in this 
 latter we find many rooms fitted for purposes, opposite to a palace ; as may be seen 
 in that fine model, the Stadt-house at Amsterdam, where architecture has wonder- 
 fully disposed all the rooms to their several uses. Nor is the judgment of the paint- 
 ers or architects less conspicuous in the proper placing the pictures in each apart- 
 ment ; for each piece (chiefly sculpture) is so ordered, as to allude to the rooms ; 
 whence we know what uses the rooms are put to, and by the rooms wffiat the paint- 
 ings, stone-figures, and bass-reliefs signify. 
 
 Wherefore it is very necessary to consider the nature of the apartments in order to 
 govern our work thereby ; as first, 
 
 In the hall below suits well a grey bass-relief ; or else trophies painted on the 
 walls after the life. 
 
 In an anti-chamber, where people \Vait for commands, grey ornaments arc also 
 best ; sometimes intermixed with flowers, but very sparingly. 
 
 In an audience, or presence room, should be tajpestries, or pictures with figures, 
 
Of Architecture, 47 
 
 as big as the life, of magnificent transactions which happened in apartments or 
 palaces. 
 
 In the ladies visiting-room must be other sorts of embellishments, such as fruit, 
 flowers, landscapes, fine thoughts, virtuous representations, and the most clothed 
 and modest histories. 
 
 Ill the nursery agree bass-reliefs, and painted emblems or morals ; whereby the 
 children may learn good manners, and inure tender years to virtuous actions : to 
 these may be added some flow'ers, fruit, birds, and such like. 
 
 In the kitchen may be seen the representations of culinary furniture, hunting of 
 deer, the picture of some maid or other servant, or a dog or cat ; but these must be 
 mostly grey or wood-colour, on account of the smoke, which otherwise would sully 
 the colours. 
 
 In the gallery may appear all sorts of hunting-equipage painted on the walls from 
 the life. 
 
 In the upper rooms suit landscape, and all kinds of beautiful prospects. 
 
 In the master’s bed-chamber are proper, some beautiful faces, and naked children - 
 painted after the life. 
 
 In the children’s bed room nothing must be seen but foliage or branch-work. 
 
 The study may be adorned with paintings, in grey marble, of learned men, phi- 
 losophers, &c. 
 
 In the summer-house, being a place for the enjoyment of company and entertain- 
 ments, suit nothing better than bacchanalian pieces, sportive herdsmen, dancings, 
 brooks, and fountains. 
 
 We proceed now to the decorations over chimneys, and on doors, in each apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Over the dining-room chimney place, Comus, god of meals, accompanied by Taste 
 and Smell ; and, on the door, Lcetitia, or Joy. 
 
 Over the hall-chimney may be Decorum, or Authority, accompanied by Pallas^ 
 or Virtue, and Honors, or Honour ; and, on the door. Understanding. 
 
 Over the lady’s visiting-room chimney. Modesty, accompanied by Obedience and 
 Diligence ; and, on the door. Fidelity. 
 
 Over the chimney in a saloon, or meeting room for youth, may be seen InvetituSj 
 or Youth, attended by Grace and Eloquence; and, on the door, Gaudium, or Joy. 
 
 Over the nursery chimney place Education, and by it a young branch tied to a 
 stick ; and, on the door. Obedience. 
 
 Over the kitchen chimney, Prudentia, or Prudence, accompanied by Ceres and 
 Bacchus; and, on the door. Diligence. 
 
 Over the bed-chamber chimney. Quiet ; and the door. Security. 
 
48 Q/" Architecture, 
 
 Over the study, or closet chimney, Wisdom, or Science; and, on the door, Har- 
 j)ocrates. 
 
 On the doors of the side-rooms going out of the hall. Clemency and Vigilance ; 
 
 { 
 
 and, between them, Economy. 
 
 On the pantry-door. Abundance. 
 
 On the cellar-door, Silenus, 
 
 On the garret or loft-door. Winter. • , 
 
 On the garden-door, Flora. 
 
 On the orchard-door, Pomona. 
 
 In the green-house, between the stoves, the figure of persons who have been trans- 
 formed into trees and plants, as Cyparissus, Myrrha, Daphne, &c. On the door 
 within, Apollo; and, on the outside, Diana. 
 
 On the stable-door all sorts of stable-appurtenances, as a bridle, saddle, housing, 
 stirrups, dung fork, shovel, curry-comb, &c. 
 
 On the privy-door Momus laughing. 
 
 And now, that I may conceal nothing from the artists, I shall subjoin the pictures 
 proper to be put into chimneys, which may be various ; because we are not confined 
 to the fire, as being only used during the winter-season ; the spring, summer, and 
 autumn affords us a large field for fine inventions ; and, since the place, for three 
 quarters of the year, becomes any thing we find proper, we can either shut them up, 
 or leave them open, or contrive in niches all sorts of statues or busts, bass-reliefs, 
 and other ornaments, as cisterns, vasa, flower-pots, baskets of fruit, musical instru- 
 ments, globes, and such-like : we can have them be open with doors or without, with 
 one door or two half-ones, and represent vistos or prospects, such as a flower-garden, 
 a public place with fountains, a street of houses, a grove, lane, frontispiece, pantry, 
 wine-cellar, an alcove with a couch, or a library, and such like. In fine, we may 
 introduce any thing that is different from the furniture of the apartment. But care 
 must be taken, that the painting have a natural and high horizon, with little or no 
 sky, to gain more depth ; vistos of apartments one within another are also not im- 
 proper ; but if we represent without-door prospects as aforesaid, it is more proper to 
 paint doors, seemingly to give the room air : and seeing it often happens that such a 
 painting cannot have the most advantageous light, and is sometimes in shade by the 
 projecture of the chimney, we should contrive the work accordingly, and so as not 
 to appear like painting, but nature itself. 
 
 The designs proper to such places (for the sake of those who are not fertile in in- 
 vention) may be such as follow. 
 
 1. Spring. Flora, setting out with a gay and joyful air, has a basket of spring- 
 flowers under her left arm ; with her right hand behind she a little lifts up her 
 
Of Architectw'e, 49 
 
 gown : her left foot rests on a step, and her right lifts up ; her breast is somewhat 
 to the light; behind, in a low distance, is seen a parterre, ornamented with vases: 
 behind her, we may place another figure in the shade, ascending the steps, in order 
 to fling off the off-scape, and bring forward the fore-figure. Flora must be propor- 
 tioned to the size of the fire place ; if not as big as life, let her be a young damsel, 
 and, if the face be shaded by the chimney, make good advantage of the reflection • 
 the same design may be also executed with children. 
 
 2. Summer. Pomona with a basket of fruit in her lap ; and, in the distance, an 
 orchard, and some Cupids busily gathering fruits and flowers. 
 
 3 . Autumn. Bacchus represented in an entrance or gate-w ay, hung round with 
 vine-branches and grapes ; and, if you please, a young satyr by him, with a cup : this 
 design may be also represented with children. 
 
 4 . Anteros, as a youth, crowned with laurels, stands on a threshold, leaning on a 
 torch or else a long arrow, pointing inwardly to a library, wherein are an astrolabe 
 andfglobe, and against the wall a lyre hanging; his garment, fastened on each 
 shoulder, is reddish purple ; his look agreeable and majestic ; his mouth open, as if 
 inviting somebody to come in ; he stands on the left side against the door, which 
 comes half in shade, against the off-scape, so that he is strongly set off; his face and 
 under-parts are fronting; his breast turning to the light; this design either left or 
 right is equally good, and so are the before-mentioned. 
 
 5 . Cupid IS seen here sweetly smiling, having a flask on his arm, and a spa- 
 
 water-bottle in his hand, which he holds up, as if he were saying, — Bare waters f 
 By him is an elegant stand or tea-table, on which another Cupid is placing a silver 
 salver with glasses, and a silver sugar-box and spoon ; behind may be seen a wine- 
 cellar lighted by a candle or lamp ; we should also discover part of a summer-house, 
 or fountain, or a gallery, &c. ’ 
 
 6. In this design we shew a serenade by three boys ; the first dressed as a Punch- 
 an-ello, with a bag-pipe, hautboy, or flute ; the second as a harlequin, with a violin ; 
 and the third as a Scaramouch, with a guitar, and all three in their proper postures : 
 harlequin in set posture stands to the right against a post, holding the violin to his 
 ear ; Punch-an-eilo, sitting against the other post on the threshold, holds his flute 
 trom his mouth, and looks forward, laughing and shewing his teeth, his head sinking 
 backwards somewhat into his neck : Scaramouch is in the middle, with his guitar 
 under his arm, and his head quite sunk into his shoulders ; he is attentive, holding 
 his fore-finger to his nose, and his legs close. Behind these buffoons we might shew 
 a balustrade over a water in shade, and on it an ape sitting; in the water may be 
 gondolas, with masks in them ; or else a street, and such like. 
 
 Because the breadth of the aforesaid opening cannot be very great, you may by 
 
 VOL. II. „ ^ ^ 
 
50 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 shutting the door more or less, or by placing somewhat between it, get advantageous 
 shades, if the matter require it: there ought at most but a figure and half to be in 
 the light, and a third in shade. The colours will effect the same. Such paintings 
 should not be muddled, but boldly handled, and the lights strong. 
 
 Thus much for without-door views ; proceed we now to design for chimneys which 
 are closed. 
 
 1. A vase of white marble, gold or silver, or the belly gold, and the neck and 
 foot of lapis lazuli^ in a niche of red marble, or porphery ; and the jaumbs to 
 be of a lighter stone, hung with festoons of all sorts of fine leaves, intermixed with 
 flowers : these festoons should be very large, like two arms, and spreading in order 
 to break the light ground, that the middle ornament, whether white marble, silver, 
 or gold, may have the greater force. 
 
 2. The bust of Sacchus in white marble, crowned either with vine leaves and 
 branches and grapes, or else mulberries with their greens ; on each side, on a ground 
 of free-stone, festoons of white and blue grapes, and between those may be placed 
 some proper instruments, as cymbals, timbrels, tabors, hautboys, Mid. Pans flutes. 
 The bust is on a pedestal of Pisan marble, in a niche, as before ; the niche must 
 rise as much as possible, that the bust may have its full height; but if the chimney 
 and niche do not admit of a figure in full proportion, you may make a boy of it: 
 if you leave out the pedestal, you can place the same in the niche, but a third less 
 in height. Under the niche may be a faint bass-relief of grey or other marble ; or 
 else a festoon of pine leaves, intermixed with some beautiful flowers. 
 
 3. The bust of Apollo ; and on each side some musical instruments, either painted 
 as carved, or natural. Under the niche may be a square pannel, and on it a carved 
 torch, with a quiver across, through a garland of laurel. Among the natural in- 
 struments, some laurel or olive branches ; and, among the carved ones, some rolls 
 of paper, with geometric and other such figures ; for these can be better ordered in 
 bass-relief, than among those naturally painted. 
 
 4. A deep niche ; in which may be seen a table, with an elegant stand or foot 
 of fine wood, partly gilt: oil the table, china tea-furniture ; as dishes, saucers, 
 tea-pot, and a silver-chased tea-canister : or else coffee equipage ; as a silver coffee- 
 pot, a silver salver with pipes, a knife, some tobacco in a paper, a fine chafing dish 
 with fire ; and, on the gr ou d, in the sh ade, some bottles of wine. 
 
 5. The table in this design may be put to various uses; it may be served with me- 
 lons, or baskets of fruit, as peaches, nectarines, apricots, filberds, &c. 
 
 6. On such a table may be also music-books and instruments, as a lute, violin, 
 hautboy, &c. And, on the ground, a cistern of water, with bottles of wine standing 
 upright therein. 
 
51 
 
 Of A tiire. 
 
 7. In this last we may place a found bass-relief, representing a sitting child, of 
 flesh-coloured marble, on a blue ground, blowing bubbles.: round it, a white 
 marble moulding ; and, underneath, a festoon, 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 DESCRIPTION or SEVERAL PICTURES ADAPTED TO THE FIVE 
 ORDERS IN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Since no manner of describing fine apartments is more proper than this, which ex- 
 hibits things as if we really saw them, I shall therein give an architectonic view of 
 each order, and in as conspicuous a manner as I myself conceive it. The parti- 
 culars must then be well regarded ; because they are so linked together, that, by 
 overlooking a small circumstance, the whole chain may be broke, without ever 
 getting a true idea of the thing. 
 
 We shall confine the subject to five apartments, and describe in each the pictures, 
 which shew the nature, height, custom, and other properties relating to the orders 
 of this building : and since the Tuscan order, either in parts or altogether, is rough 
 and massy, we shall exhibit here, 
 
 The Victures of Polyphemus and Galatea. 
 
 Volyphemus^ on the sea-shore, inflamed with the love of the beautiful Galatea^ 
 who came to divert herself on the pleasant surges of the billows, strove to please 
 her with his singing and music, and thereby to gain her favours ; but she was deaf 
 to his suit : his rough-hewn enormous size, and frightful aspect , were her aversion ; 
 wherefore she shuns him, and derides his addresses. 
 
 A calm sea was seen. On the second ground, to the left, appeared a vast high 
 rock, hanging over the sea, almost to the point of sights all rough, and over-run 
 with moss and herbage, going off to the left very cragged ; up to it huge stones 
 were piled on each other, as steps (but three times higher) from the edge of the 
 water ; on the lowermost of them sat the monstrous Cyclops, as a wild and savage 
 man ; his skin very swarthy and hairy ; his head and beard full of bristly black hair, 
 spreading over his shoulders and breast; he had but one eye-brow, and that as wide 
 as his forehead, hanging over the eye, (which, according to Homer, was as large as 
 a shield) placed in the middle of his wrinkled forehead ; his blubber lip turned up 
 towards his broad and flat nose, like that of a negro ; shewing his teeth, set like 
 those of a saw, out of his gluttonous jaws, with a grim look : by him lay his staff, 
 which (like those of the herdsmen) was crooked at one end, and, according to Ovidy 
 
 H 2 
 
52 
 
 Of Architectuj’e. 
 
 big'g*er than tiie mast of a ship : a knapsack or pouch hung at his side ; his raiment 
 was goats-skin sewed together, which he had shook from off his shoulders, possibly 
 to discover to Galatea his conceited fine shape : this garment was cream colour, 
 spotted with black. He sat very rudely, leaning a little back against the rock ; his 
 left leg was stretched out towards the water, and his right, with the foot fore-short- 
 ened, lifted up, lay over apiece of the rock; his flute, with an hundred pipes, he held 
 ill his left hand, up to his mouth, as if he had been just playing. His head inclined, 
 with his eye to heaven, towards Cupitf who stood near and flattered him ; his mouth 
 was open, as if he were singing, and his right hand, upright on his knee, seemed to 
 beat time. It was curious to see the method Cupid took in the midst of his play 
 to stick an arrow into Yolyphemuss breast without l»is being sensible of it. 
 
 Cupid was about half as big as the Cyclops' arm or leg; so that, though he had 
 climbed up the second step, he could scarce reach the Cyplops shoulder, in order 
 to stroke, with liis right hand, the hair from the giant’s eye; when, pointing with a 
 stretched finger of the same hand towards the sea, he, laughing, stuck with the 
 other an arrow in Volyphemus's breast, under his lifted arm. Cupid was of a beau- 
 tiful rosy complexion, his hair yellowish white ; a quiver, tied with a red sash, hung 
 by his side, and his bow lying near him. 
 
 The fair Galatea^ in the mean time sitting on a large sea-shell in the middle of the 
 nearest distance, was drawn by tw o dolphins, encompassed w ith tritons and nereids, 
 sounding their shelly trumpets, and playing on timbrels and other instruments ; 
 she sat frenting in the shell, and the dolphins, which she guided gently, turned to the 
 right; she was followed by other tritons, bearing beautiful naked virgins, and a 
 crowd of sea monsters, who, gradually uniting with the farthest distance, disap- 
 peared. This whole crowd was grouped in the form of a crescent ; Galatea appeared 
 to surpass all in beauty . 
 
 I at first thought this might possibly be Venus herself; because three beauties 
 attended her, whom I took to be the three Graces; but she looked somewhat 
 younger, and not so wanton as Yenus is usually represented ; her breast also rose 
 less, and her head-attire was quite different from Yenus ; for her white hair, twdsted 
 in tresses, and elegantly flowing, was here and there stuck with white bell-flowers ; 
 and the locks in each side tied together on the head in a tuft, and, hanging down 
 both before and behind, made plainly appear, how gently she glided over the bil- 
 lows. What most charmed me, was, that, in this great crowd, one might see the 
 particular sways, turnings, and affections of every figure ; one moved slowly, another 
 swiftly, as their beards, hair, and veils plainly shewed ; some bending backward, as 
 blowing, others forward almost to the water ; some were full of foam ; others 
 swimming as evenly as if they moved on looking-glass, so that their glitter was 
 
53 
 
 Of A rcliitectiire . 
 
 srarce visible in the water. This second Venus (as T shall call her) lin'd a greenish 
 })liie scarf, which, coming over her lap, twined about her right leg; advancing her 
 naked left leg, she set her foot on the scroll of the shell ; her head, a little flung 
 back, inclined to her right shoulder; her breast projecting; and the right arm, 
 stretching across her body, supported her rein-hand on her naked knee; her coun- 
 tenance was modest and smiling ; her eyes somewhat downish, made me think the 
 sun was too powerful for her ; but, I more nearly perceived she was talking to a sea- 
 nymph or nereid, who, near her chariot, lay behind on a Triton, staring towards 
 the shore at Polyphemus, whither Galatea, with her left hand a little fore-shorten- 
 ed, was pointing; the top of the rock was almost shaded by a cloud, which shade 
 run across the piece, and set off Galatea and her retinue. The whole group was 
 agreeably lighted ; and, though the light was strong, yet the shades near the water 
 were soft and melting, by the glitter or reflections of it, which, in my opinion, was 
 a fine piece of conduct ; behind the rock, towards the right side, appeared beauti- 
 ful tracts of verdant land, adorned with variety of trees, extending crescent ways 
 by the point of sight, and some herds of oxen, goats, and sheep, were grazing ; 
 in the offscape were hills, and on the right side a town ; forwards, on the same 
 side in the corner, a piece of a sea-rock appeared, which Galatea and her company 
 seemed to avoid. 
 
 As we have represented the persons of Polyphemus and Galatea, so it will not 
 be amiss to shew those of the tritons and nereid s also. Pausanias describes the 
 tritons thus : their upper parts, from the navel, were human, but covered with 
 thin, sharp, and rough scales, and downwards their bodies, instead of feet, ended 
 in a large split tail ; their hair long and bluish, and entangled as if in a twist ; their 
 eyes greenish ; their ears, nose, and mouth, like those of men, the latter very large 
 and wide ; their teeth like those of a panther ; their fingers and nails like the out- 
 side of an oyster-shell, or such a substance ; on their breasts and bellies, and under 
 their ears, they had fins like little wings, which helped them in swimming. 
 
 Alexander ah Alexandra says, that the nereids are shaped like beautiful virgins 
 down to the navel ; but the lower parts, joining together like a fish, end in an eel’s 
 tail ; their heads are mostly unveiled, their hair disheveled, and beset with pearls, 
 coral, and other sea productions. 
 
 Second Picture. 
 
 Polyphemus, from the top of the rock, where he sat playing, viewing his beloved 
 Galatea bestowing her smiles on Acts, was so enraged thereat, that, full of fury, he 
 tore a piece from the rock, with intention to crush them both ; which Galatea escap- 
 ed by diving into the sea; but^d5, not nimble enough m running, was struck with it. 
 
54 * 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 This piece is a cotnposilion or sequel to the preceding ; the rock is here placed on 
 a contrary side to the former; behind is an island also, in the form of a crescent, 
 towards the right extends across; beyond it the sea is seen along the horizon, the 
 rock on the right side goes down in rough steps, and follows a sandy way forward 
 on its left, to the middle of the piece where it ends in the frame. The unhappy Acts 
 falls here in the sand under the huge piece of rock, with his arms extended, and his 
 face downwards,* yet somewhat turned towards the sea; he is not quite dead, be- 
 cause the great weight rolling in the air only took him in the leg as he was running ; 
 the enraged cydops not content with this, foams at mouth, and gripes a heavier piece 
 of the rock in order to destroy the faithless Galcitea ,* Alegesra, with her smoking 
 pitchy torch, urges him on, and enflaming him with hellish fury, points towards the 
 sea at the objects of his revenge, at which he looks back ; and now what a force he 
 shews in rending the rock ; all his members are distorted, his sinews stretch, and his 
 muscles swell, drawing in his mouth on one side, with the upper teeth, and his eye 
 is half shut. Does he not look as if he were anatomized or dead ; nay, the least of 
 his muscles works and presses through his thick skin ; his hair stands an end, and 
 his breast-skin garment being got loose from his girdle, drags on the ground, and he 
 treads on it with his left foot ; the goat’s feet hanging to it appear to fly about ac- 
 cording to his motion ; he bends double, one of his knees almost touching his breast, 
 and with his right foot against the rock, he, with both hands and all his force, tears 
 off a piece of it. Tisiphone^ half behind him with her upper parts above his head, 
 and her face a little fore-shortened and downwards points with her whole right hand 
 (not a finger) at Galatea ,* in her left hand are Some serpents and a fire-brand ; her gar- 
 ment is black or dark grey, here and ther estained with blood ; the sea swells, and 
 the billows beat with great violence against the rock, as if they would swallow up 
 the shore. On the left side comes Galatea in her chariot drawn by two dolphins, 
 not gliding, as before, but tossing sometimes on the top of the waves, and sometimes 
 beneath them, with the hinder part of her chariot almost upright ; she stands stopping, 
 with her arms flung out, looking back with amazement, and her reins slack, her 
 disordered locks fly in loose tresses against the wind, caused by her swift motion ; 
 her veil got loose, drops behind her into the sea ; her lovely members are overpow- 
 ered by her inward troubles ; the muscles of her neck, before smooth, now rise, 
 her heart seems to pant, and her legs faltering, she seems to sink ; her grace leaves 
 her, and she is no longer Galatea^ fright has robbed her of her fresh colour, and 
 she is rather a marble statue than a living person. 
 
 Considering this composition I stood surprised. Is it possible, thought I, to he 
 a painting ? It is certainly past my understanding ; it is reality itself, and yet it 
 
5 . 5 - 
 
 Of Architecture . 
 
 must be a picture; for what is too hard for the pencil of a judicious master? Be it 
 what it will, it is real nature to me, and I am satisfied. But, to proceed : 
 
 In the distance, on the left side, some ships appear in a storm, and two in the 
 middle of the piece riding at anchor, and a boat landing some people : this made 
 me think it Uli/sses, who had a design on the eye of the cruel and gluttonous 
 devourer of men : it is even so — can perceive them to be Greeks by their armed 
 gallies and whole equipage ; the sea is white with froth, and the waves beat towards 
 the point of sight ; the air is in commotion and full of driving clouds, which cause 
 here and there large ground-shades ; the main light falls on Polyphemus, and the 
 under part of the rock, and takes in almost the whole shore forwards ; but the 
 stone which falls on Acts, is with his under parts in shade, caused by a bit pf a 
 side rock which strongly sets it off against the light : Cupid, in the mean time, above 
 the horizon, conies flying forward, turning, full of sorrow and cries, to the right, 
 down where Acis lies ; his left hand is up to one eye, and his right, wherein is his 
 bow, over his head, to shade it from the sun ; his quiver is reversed, and the arrows 
 drop into the sea; Acis lies on the fore-ground with his shoulders bare, and he is 
 seen a little right sideways ; his hands, half covered with sand, are wide open as 
 if he were swimming, his hair is dark, and his garment dark green. Galatea, be- 
 tween him and Polyphemus, with the rock, runs across the piece ; she is seen right 
 sideways, and her face is fronting; the distance, consisting of hills, boscage, beau- 
 tiful lawns and rivers, is clearly lighted : there appear also some cattle grazing, as 
 in the former piece, under the impendance of the rock, and close to the sea lies a 
 red cloth garment in shade ; undoubtedly left there by Acis, which was, in my 
 opinion, artfully contrived, in order to point out the place where this unhappy cou- 
 ple had been sitting; the shore is covered with cockles and many other sea produc- 
 tions. A large greenish coloured tortoise is seen, making from under Acis towards 
 the sea; Polyphemus’s flute lies by him, but the bag still hangs by his side; 
 the top of the rock is dark against light clouds driving thither ; the light comes from 
 the side of the piece. 
 
 After I had exactly weighed all the circumstances of the two pieces, I was con- 
 sidering what the master’s principal drift might be, and found them to be an exam- 
 ple of love, or flattery of the senses, w^antonly affecting the body without violence, 
 in the person of Polyphemus, in the first piece : and, in Galatea an easy indiffer- 
 ence without any passion ; for I perceived her motion was smooth, and her beauty 
 in its perfection; she was not attended by any Cupids, because such as have fins 
 instead of wings usually wait on the nerejds, I was so rejoiced at this observation, 
 that I cannot express it. 
 
 Inquiring likewise what might be learned from the second picture, I concluded 
 
56 
 
 Of A rchitecture. 
 
 that the author intended to express the unhappy issue of love in the person of Gala- 
 tea; a passion both warm and sudden; for the least disorderly aflection puts the 
 chief members of the body in commotion and disturbs the peace of rest; that of 
 Polyphemus is violent: Cupid is subject to compassion only, as I think : wherefore 
 he is represented crying, possibly to shew a childishness ; for children commonly 
 laugh or cry about things which seem strange to them. 
 
 Comment on the Characters in the aforesaid Pictures. 
 
 Polyphemus, the Sicilian herdsman, the most savage and gigantic of all the Cyclops, 
 was, according to Homer, son of Neptune and the nymph Thosa ; the word Cy- 
 clops signifies, having but one eye in the middle of the forehead, whereby some 
 would imply, the thunder and lightning, according to tlie Greek names of his com- 
 panions, Brontes, Sterope, and Pyradmon, and other effects of the air, round 
 which they are always attending in readiness at the command of Jupiter ; the air, 
 they say, being placed in the middle of heaven, as an eye in the head. Thus the 
 commentators on Hesiod in his Pheogonia ( Beorum Origo ) deliver. 
 
 Hesiod says, that Galatea, daughter of Nereus and Doris, is so named from her 
 whiteness, signifying parabolically, the froth of the sea; wherefore this poet as- 
 cribes to her white hair and a face like milk : he says further, that some writers 
 would, by Galatea, allude to the sweet w^ater which falls into the sea, because no- 
 thing is sweeter than milk ; and by Polyphemus, the air, which loves the sweet 
 food. 
 
 The youth Acis, is called by Ovid, son of the river Faunus and Simethis, being 
 both young, beautiful, and well shaped. 
 
 The tritons are counted by most of the poets, sons of Neptune ^nd Amphit 7 'ita; 
 because the sea, says Vernuinder, is esteemed the mother or producer of many 
 strange creatures, which its elements are very inclinable to ; and the ancient heathens 
 perceiving this somewhat wonderful, ascribed to the sea some divinity, as they also 
 did to those tritons, whose helj3 they implored in dangers at sea. But they who 
 examine more narrowly into the Egyptian hieroglyphics, say, that the tritons by 
 their amphibious form of being human upwards, and dolphin-like downw^ards, are 
 compared to the two watry virtues, saltness and sweetness, teaching us that both 
 good and evil spring from their nature and constitution, to wit, good from the hu- 
 man nature, and nothing but evil from the fishiness ; for the human form, says 
 Phurnutus, is compared to sweet water, which is proper for the aliment of trees, 
 herbs, and animals ; but the fishy part is compared to sea-water, which is noxious 
 to the animals of the earth and air, and also to plants, causing’ them to die and wi- 
 ther, as we read in Phitarch, of the nature of things. 
 
Of Architecture, 57 
 
 Touching the nei’eids, we find in Plato that there were an hundred of them ; 
 says fifty, and gives us their names; of which Glance, Cymodoce, Galatea^ 
 Cyrene, Drimo, Deiopeia, Xantho, Aretliusa, Phillodoce, Euridice, Nesce, Lett- - 
 cothce, Spio, Thalia, Cydippe, Pasithea, Lycorias, Ligea, Ephyre, Opts, Asie, 
 Clymene and Halia, are the principal : their lower parts being fish-like has given 
 the poets occasion to feign, that they were very beautiful nymphs who accompa- 
 nied their gods, viz. the Ocean, Thetis, Neptune, and Nereus and Paris their 
 father and mother, and many others, who signify the different qualities and various 
 effects of the waters : they were styled mothers of the floods, because the rainy 
 clouds, being exhaled from the sea, are the origin of floods ; wherefore, on ac- 
 count of the virtue of the earth’s moisture towards the procreation of animals, 
 trees, fruits, flowers, &c. they were worshipped by the heathens as the nurses 
 of them. 
 
 Having largely discussed the off-spring and signification of the characters in both 
 the aforesaid pictures, we shall pass to a general explication of the latter. Har- 
 mony in music arises from an agreeable mixture of discording and flat sounds with 
 concording and sharp ones ; but in love it is otherwise, where dissimularity cannot 
 be brought to agree, or two hearts to join which do not sympathise by an harmony 
 of humours. The hideous make of the Cyclops is frightful to the beauteous Gala- 
 tea, who shuns him for her dearer Acisj by Polyphemus, in this last story, we 
 learn that those persons sue in vain, who flatter themselves that their troublesome 
 addresses gain the aflfections of those who hate them : contrarily, Acis blessed with 
 the smiles of his mistress, shews us the danger of exposing ourselves to the resent- 
 ment of a powerful rival, from whom at any time we must expect nothing but 
 death. It may also, I say, serve for an example of the power of beauty, which 
 so bewitched Acis, that he could not forbear loving, though at the expense of his 
 life. Thus we are bewildered by our own inclinations, and brought to a place of 
 inevitable misfortunes, where we are plunged in tears to the weakening of our vital 
 strength, as in this fable of the young and amorous Acis when Galatea transformed 
 him into a fountain. 
 
 Opposite to these poetic pictures, I saw two others treating of love, but differ- 
 ently, as being the sacred stories of Samson and Pelilah; the sense of the first is 
 this ; — 
 
 Third Table, or Pictw'e. 
 
 Samson, resting on PelilaKs lap, his hair is cut off* whilst he sleeps, and the Phi' 
 hstines lie in wait to seize him. 
 
 Here Samson is sitting near the centre of the painting on a carpet which covers 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
58 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 the floor, and reaches over three circular steps before a couch, whereon sits Delilah^ 
 with his head in her lap ; her right foot rests on a small foot-stool, against which he 
 is leaning, with his left knee somewhat raised ; the foot of that leg is under his right 
 thigh, which is somewhat fore-shortened, but the leg is seen at full length, with 
 his shin fronting ; his right arm hangs down between his legs, resting on the outside 
 of his hand, which is seen inwardly ; supporting his head on his left arm over Deli- 
 lah's lap, with elbow standing out ; he is all in a heap, and his head hangs a little for- 
 ward and fidiing. 
 
 Delilaiis right arm is about his neck, and her upper parts bend a little over to the 
 left, when, looking another way, she with her left hand pushes from her an old wo- 
 man, who steps back, having both her hands joined under her chin, and a key in one 
 of them, and with her mouth shut smiles at Delilah. Delilah's eyes are fixed on a 
 young man standing near her, who gently lifting up Samson's hair is cutting it off 
 with a pair of scissors ; the young man is on Samson's right side, stooping over him 
 with his arms extended, and legs close, and his garment between them, that it may 
 not touch the sleeping Samson; near him stands a boy with a basket to hold the cut 
 locks ; he looks back at a Vhilistiney who is coming towards them with a rope in his 
 hand ; he pouts with his mouth, and has a finger thereon, in order to make the other 
 keep back a little. The aforesaid Philistine walks stooping, advancing his right leg, 
 and supporting his body with the other, which is quite bent ; he thrusts out his head, 
 and his elbow is drawn in, holding the rope with both hands close to his body. 
 Another on the right side behind him is lifting up a curtain and looking after him. 
 Between these two rises a large column, and another on the other side of the latter, 
 whereon the aforesaid curtain hangs ; these curtains and their pedestals run towards 
 the point of sight. Behind the last Philistine stand three or four more. On the left 
 side, behind the old woman, appears part of the couch, supported by a lion’s paw ; 
 the top of the couch has an ornament of foliage, from whence projects a woman’s 
 head with breasts of yellowish ivory, representing a harpy, and a spread wing sup- 
 ports a gilt moulding. From the top of the couch hangs a light reflecting drapery, 
 with tassels down to the ground. Forward, in the corner, appears a large pillar, or 
 a piece of walling against which stands a hexagonial leafed table, supported by three 
 mermaids, back to back, on a triangular foot of black stone. On the table are se- 
 veral bags of money. From behind the table, a young servant-like man is gently ad- 
 vancing with more bags of money in his arms, looking back suddenly with knit eye- 
 brows over his right shoulder at the couch : at his heels is another bearer with a 
 copper vessel full of money, which he lugs very heavily before him ; his upper parts 
 falling back, and he screwing his mouth, puffing and blowing ; he is well set, of a se- 
 date countenance, and his hair and beard are frizzled. Beside the couch, below the 
 
59 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 steps, in the shade, is seen the statue of VewM^on a pedestal, mysteriously represent- 
 ing Next it stands a commander of the Philistines with a staff in his hand ; 
 
 he somewhat thrusts out his head, and, if I mistake not, there are more people behind 
 him lost in the shade. On the right side of the steps, close to the foremost column 
 stands a censor, the smoke whereof ascends up the column. The apartment is hung 
 round with dark tapestries of landscape, and between them are broad pilasters. 
 The floor forward is inlaid w ith banded compartments. 
 
 Delilah is wantonly dressed, having a nice head attire mixed with ribbons and 
 pearls. A long hair-lock of a brow n shining colour comes over her bosom, her gar- 
 ment of white satin hanging so carlessly down her bosom, as to shew her bare breasts 
 and left shoulder ; the fore-part of the right leg is also naked from below the knee ; 
 the thigh is fore-shortened, and the sandals white ; her left leg covered by the dra- 
 pery afore-mentioned hangs down by the couch as if she was standing on it, w ith the 
 foot behind the foot-stool : from her right shoulder hangs sloping, a beautiful sea- 
 green veil tied on the left side, the flaps whereof are partly on the bed, on one side, 
 and down her thigh on the other. 
 
 Samson is of a large size, and robustly membered, of a swarthy hue, with black 
 hair and beard, and hairy breast : his drapery is dark purple, which, fastened with 
 a girdle about his body, buckled on his side and gathered about the waist, comes 
 down between his legs, covering the right thigh, the flaps of it finely folded, lying 
 sideways on the carpet. The old woman’s head is bound with a yellowish cloth, 
 and her garment violet or blue, with straight sleeves tied under her breast and over 
 her hips. The young man with the scissors is in a short green-sleeved coat. The 
 boy next him, the same but somewhat more ordinary : the hair of each is light, and 
 tied behind with a white ribbon. The soldier with the rope in his hand is swarthy, 
 and dressed in a light yellow coat reaching to his knees, with dark and dull iron or 
 copper straps three fingers broad, about the waist, over the navel, and the same on 
 the shoulders ; his helmet is plain and of copper, has a dagger by his side, and dark 
 buskins and sandals, with strings to the calves of the legs. The person behind him 
 has also a helmet, in the form of a dragon’s head ; his body is covered with a beast’s 
 skin, and he has a truncheon in his hand. He, who on the left side carries the cop- 
 per vessel with money before him, has a light grey cloth rolled about his nliddle, 
 and coining down half way the thighs. The table is covered with fine red stuff, 
 hanging down on each side. The floor carpet is dark, and variegated like Turkey 
 work. 
 
 The light of the piece proceeds from the left a little fronting, as if from a single 
 window, whereby the middle group and steps receive the broadest light. The sol- 
 tlier, with the rope before the steps, is more lighted on a side. The statue, standing 
 
 I 2 
 
60 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 in the shade receives a reflexed light from the floor. The commander of the Phi- 
 listh.es takes a little light on his shoulders. The young man laden withdhe bags of 
 money, is, witfi the tables next to him, in shade, but the other hearer receives the 
 light directly on his raised naked breast. 
 
 Seco7id Pahle, or Victure. 
 
 After Samsons hair was cut off, and he tied hand and foot, he awakes, and find- 
 ing himself thus wretchedly trapped by Delilah, arises full of wrath, striking and 
 pushing all away from him as well as he is able, but is at last overpowered and 
 seized. 
 
 Here, in his fury, he stands in the middle of the piece, turned with his left to the 
 light, and striding, his left elbow rises, with the hand and arm down behind his 
 head ; his right hand comes forward, with the elbow pulled back by a rope, by one 
 of the Vhilistines; his right leg advances, and the left falls quite back, yielding to 
 the weight of his heavy body, which bends backwards. Two persons lie at his feet, 
 either knocked or kicked down, and the third lies on the right side against a balus- 
 trade with one hand on the floor, and catching hold of the pedestal, with the other ; 
 his head drooping, he spits abundance of blood. On the left side of Samson, a little 
 forward, stands the commander of the Vhilistines, punching him in the breast with 
 his left fist, and with the right, wherein he holds a staff' on high, threatening to beat 
 him. Behind the commander stands a soldier, who having flung a rope about Samp- 
 son's neck, pulls forward the Nazarean hero’s almost mastered head, whose mouth 
 is close, and cheeks are swelling. Behind Samson, another stooping soldier is pul- 
 ling a rope fastened to his right foot. The aforesaid balustrade on the right side 
 backwards, runs towards the point of sight, and the door is in the middle of it, 
 through which rush in three or four men, shouting and armed with truncheons, staves, 
 and other weapons ; of whom the foremost, with a staff or half pike, seems to strike 
 with all his might at the reeling Samson. Their fury is very great on this occasion. 
 
 A little to the left behind Samson, and close to the couch, Delilah is seen embrac- 
 ing the statue of Venus, and looking back with astonishment; she is somewhat high 
 on the steps, which run across the piece. Just beyond her, the old woman is either 
 flung down or falling, and with one leg a little up shews her naked limbs, by reason 
 of her garment somewhat turned up ; she has one hand on the floor, and the other 
 coming forwards. In the corner forwards hangs a part of a large curtain, which 
 covers part of the table whereon lies the money. The two youths, mentioned in the 
 former, come running in a fright, endeavouring to hide themselves between the table 
 and wall ; the one is already half behind it, and the other is looking back, with his 
 flead between his hands. 
 
61 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 Samsons drapery lies half on the steps, and the residue is under his feet, together 
 'with some weapons, as, half pikes and head-pieces of the slain. The commander 
 of the Vhilistines has a vestment reaching below the knees, and a loose drapery 
 about his arm ; about his head is a light grey fillet, fastened behind with a gold rib- 
 bon. The main light takes Samson and the parts about him. Delilah is in a reflect- 
 ing light and deep in the piece. 
 
 These two pictures were not inferior to the two former in passions ; the composi- 
 tion, light, and colouring, surprised me, and induced me to think J saw^ the very action 
 and life itself. I was persuaded, that if I knew not that it was Samson and Delilah 
 I must have guessed it by their makes, faces, and motions. And, what was most 
 wonderful, the fact and drift could not only be naturally seen, but also its cause, 
 and what the issue would be, whether good or bad. In the first piece, I could easily 
 perceive that Samson was to be betrayed ; and, if I did not know it, the circumstance 
 of his hair cut off, money told, and ropes at hand, would make me surmise it. Yet 
 this could not be done without bloodshed, as in the second piece, where he is seized 
 and roped like an ox for the sacrifice, who, if the first blow fail, rouses, pushes 
 down, and tramples under foot all that he meets with, till at length tired, he is mas- 
 tered, and thus led back to the altar again. Just so it appeared to me. 
 
 Truly, we see few such pieces so efficaciously expressed ; every thing, as, the 
 apartment, by-works, and incidents were so proper, so needful to explain the matter, 
 that the omission of any of them would have made the composition imperfect. 
 What an effect has the statue of Venus in painting out the lasciviousness of this 
 heathenish woman? does not the vicious old woman, with the key in her hand, 
 plainly shew that she is in her own house, not in that of Samson, or the commander 
 of the Vhilistines ? Or of what use would the money on the table be, if we saw nof 
 by the bearer, that it was not Samson's? for, he is asleep, and the money now 
 brought in : but if on such an occasion,^ the running of the bearers, and the noise of 
 the money be thought improper, as discovering the plot ; I say there is no impro- 
 priety in it, since it is possible to run bare-footed over a marble floor without any 
 noise, and to set down bags of money without rattling. All here is hush, no body 
 speaks, for every one knows his business. 
 
 In the second piece, Delilah makes to the statue for protection. Why does she 
 flee, and why in such fear, after Samson is bereft of his strength ? yet, she cannot be 
 easy, she is tossed between hope and fear, and her anxiety makes her catch hold of 
 any thing she meets with ; and as long as Samson is present, she retains her trouble. 
 The commander’s passionate motion is, I think, very proper ; for though he be dis- 
 charging the duty of a servant, it is easy to imagine, that, seeing the dead bodies lie 
 about him, he would not have exposed himself to the danger of approaching Samson, 
 
62 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 had he not been securely tied. Now rushing from his lurking place, he falls boldly 
 on Samson, possibly not so much to shew his own valour, as to spirit the others ; for 
 he looks not at Samson, but at the soldiers. The old woman’s lying tumbled down 
 is not improper, as being feeble-legged, and full of fear ; and, although she have no 
 share in the action, yet it is not repugnant to the story, if only for Delilah's sake ; 
 and for the same reason she is thrown into shade. 
 
 Let us now consider both the pictures, but chiefly the signification of Samson’s 
 hair, and the love of Delilah. 
 
 We read briefly in Scripture many things touching the hair of Samso7i, of which 
 he was very careful ; because, whilst it grew, it became longer and thicker, whereby 
 he gained greater strength for breaking the ropes with which he was at any time 
 bound ; but, being cut off, his strength forsook him, and his whole body was subject 
 to weakness. 
 
 By the person of Samson, the Nazarean, we understand, a man chosen by Heaven, 
 and devoted to its service ; for the men of that order took, as 1 have said, especial 
 care of their hair ; which gave them virtue, adorning the head, or the understanding, 
 which, the more it increases, the more courageous we become against assaults of our 
 enemies. By enemies endeavouring to bind us, we understand, human inclinations. 
 When now, through frailty, we are seduced by this Delilah, those corrupt affections, 
 whereby sleep overpowers us, and we slumber in her lap, reason becomes useless, 
 and we cease to do good. Thus we are shorn by the wiles of temptation ; that is, 
 by means of voluptuousnes we are deaf to the impulses of the Holy Spirit, and then 
 of course lie open to our enemies, both to scorn and crush us ; for worldly affairs are 
 so affecting, that they have no sooner got the mastery, but we find ourselves crossed, 
 either by covetousness, love, hatred, jealousy, or other disquiet : but returning to 
 ourselves, or awaking, we become sensible of our folly, and, through contrition, gra- 
 dually recover our hair, and thereby our strength ; and then, dying to sin, we at 
 once overcome both ourselves and our enemies. 
 
 The hair cut off, also implies, the weakness of the faculties of the soul or spirit, 
 or even death itself. 
 
 Euripides testifies, that Alccstus could not die before Mercury came from heaven to 
 cut off his hair. Minus likewise could not overcome king Nisus, unless his fatal hair 
 were cut off by his daughter. And Dido, says Vfr^27, could not die before Jmwo, 
 who pitied her long agony and lingering death, sent Iris to release the soul from cor- 
 poreal ties, by cutting off’ her white hair, and offering it to Vluto. 
 
 These two last historical pictures differed from the two preceding in this, that they 
 were not mixed with poetic figures, as Cupid, or love ; Magcera, or rage, and 
 such like, to help the expression of the passions, or meanings ; since it is certain. 
 
6s 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 that real truth could not be discerned from fiction by a mixture of both. And 
 although the statue of Yenus, in this matter of fact, seem to be of that nature, yet it 
 is nothing to the mean point, but serves only to shew that the place was heathenish, 
 and w here probably such figures were common among that people. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 OF THE PICTURES IN THE SECOND STORY, BUILT AFTER THE 
 
 DORIC ORDER. 
 
 After viewing this apartment, which I could not enough admire, I ascended the 
 second story into another of more elegant architecture, after the Doric order. This 
 room was not so long, but a little higher than the former, and I met there with the 
 following pictures. 
 
 The valiant Hercules, after having performed many wonderful exploits, not able 
 longer to resist the indignation of Juno, his step-mother, through smarting rage 
 burned himself, occasioned by the poisoned shirt of Nessus, which Deianira had 
 sent him, out of jealousy, that he loved lole, daughter of Euritus, king of Oecalia. 
 Jupiter, much concerned at this, carried him to heaven in a triumphant chariot, and 
 placed him among the stars, in the number of the gods. 
 
 The prospect was wild, woody, and mountainous. In the middle of the piece, 
 a little to the right near the point of sight, was seen a large pile of rough wood lying 
 cross-w'ays, not as chopped, but rent asunder, having roots and branches. The 
 upper wood was small, and the under very large, lying parallel with the piece. 
 Here the unhappy hero, the scourge of monsters, was lying extended over his lion s 
 skin, with his head to the right, and feet to the left side turned somewhat backward, 
 and his breast leaning over. His face a little rising, and bending forwards, was 
 seen in profile from the right side, discovering resignation, unattended with pain. 
 His left arm was quite raised, with the hand behind, under his head, the other arm 
 lay out a little forward on the wood, with the hand half shut, .and the inside towards 
 the body. His right knee was wholly drawn up, with the foot inclining towards it : 
 the other leg was represented hanging off as if he would rise himself somewhat 
 higher. Uhiloctetes, before the wood a little to the right, kneeling on< his left knee, 
 supported his bent body on his elbow and right knee.. He looked downwards, 
 holding before his face a part of his garment, as if he were weeping, and with a torch 
 in his left hand setting fire to the wood. In the middle of the piece, behind the pile, 
 on the second ground, was seen a triumphal chariot, finely adorned with carving 
 
64 Of A rchitecture. 
 
 and gilding, and children with garlands of palm ; the foremost wheel like a star ap- 
 peared sideways, half behind the ground, and the horses turning to the right, almost 
 fronting, got somewhat higher. M.ercury was seen entire to his left foot, which was 
 hidden behind the ground, on which foot, leaning back, he supported himself. He 
 advanced with his right leg forwards the burning pile, with his right hand behind 
 him, wherewith he drew in the rein, as if he were going to stop, looking back, he w^as 
 accosting Jupiter, riding on the air, and pointed at Hercules with his left hand quite 
 open, and a little fore-shortened. Jupiter^ upper parts came forward with his legs 
 fore-shortened towards Mercury, pointing upwards with his right hand, and sceptre, 
 cross his body, and in his left holding the thunder against his thigh. Behind the 
 chariot, above Hercules, to the right side, the ground rose up hilly. Behind the 
 horses were seen high pine trees and cypresses, and some broken stems, and behind 
 Mercury were others somewhat lower and further. On the left side, up to the ho- 
 rizon, appeared the sea, and not far in it a rock almost in the form of an affrighted 
 man, which I judge to be the unhappy servant Lyclias, who was flung into the sea 
 by his master’s fury. On the before-mentioned rocky hill stood a smoking altar, 
 and next it a burning fire-pan and the club of Hercules. In the pannel of the altar 
 was carved an eagle with open wings, and the thunder in its bill, sitting on a festoon 
 of oak leaves. In the front of the piece, on the left side, lay a very large body of an 
 old tree tore up by the roots ; and the hole in the ground, thereby made, was still 
 apparent ; the roots abounded with fibres, and the other end came forwards to the 
 middle of the piece, where it went into the frame. Here and there lay some 
 May branches, and stones thrown off their basis. On the ground, by Vhiloctetes, 
 lay Hercules’s ivory bow and quiver, adorned with gold, and of a size bigger 
 than ordinary ; the strap being enriched with gold buckles. On this quiver was a 
 small inlaid or chased figure representing Atrapos, the last of the fatal sisters, with 
 her scissors. 
 
 This piece was strongly lighted from the right side, a little fronting. The hill and 
 altar, and hind part of the chariot, were mostly in the shade of the trees. The fore 
 parts of the horses, and the upper parts of Mercury, half way his thigh, were in the 
 light; and the rest downwards, with part of the ground, was in shade. Jupiter, 
 placed very high, almost to the frame, received the light behind his head, shoulder, 
 and arm, and the rest of his body was in shade against the light sky. The trees 
 behind the horses were rather dark. 
 
 Vhiloctetes, son of Vrean, was arrayed in a satin coat of armour, of bright straw 
 colour. The straps were gold embroidery on a greenish blue ground. His upper- 
 garment hanging behind him, and tucked up about the middle in the girdle, between 
 it and the hilt of his sword, were crimson, also embroidered with gold ; as were like- 
 
63 
 
 Of A rchitecturc. 
 
 ^vise his buskins ; his hair was fair and short-curled ; he had a little beard ; his 
 helmet and half-pike lay by him ; the helmet was seen a little inwardly, and ele- 
 gantly wrought with gold and silver; a large white feather hung from it carelessly 
 on the ground. 
 
 The naked body, on the pile of wood, appeared very beautiful; the breast, some- 
 what heaving, received a strong light ; the muscling of the stomach and ribs was 
 well expressed, but on the arms and legs faintly ; the toes of the right foot, which 
 had yet some motion, shrunk inwardly ; his eyes were dying, and the balls drawn 
 towards the corners ; the mouth, somewhat open, seemed either to send forth sighs, 
 or fetch breath, or utter, for the last time, some moving words, which raised the ut- 
 most sorrow in Philoctetes, and melted him into tears, as I thought. iSliercury was 
 almost naked, having only a small green silk scarf about him, wherein stuck his 
 Cauduceus. The horses were winged, and the head of one appeared, but that of the 
 other was behind 
 
 This piece was particularly remarkable for the death of the hero, and did not 
 ill agree with what we have before in this work observed, touching the condition of 
 a man in a very hot summer. Questionless, the poison not only worked his body 
 outwardly, but inflamed and consumed his very entrails. For this reason I also 
 thought he must die: his breath was misty, and his mouth gaped after coolness ; his 
 eye-lids, stiff and heavy through inward heat, he could hardly keep open ; his sight 
 smothered by the steam, and its motion retarded by the slackness of the optical 
 nerves, drew towards the utmost corners. The sweat broke out, and he shined 
 with wetness, chiefly about the breast, over which waved a thin damp, like the 
 fumes of boiling w'ater ; which made his outline unite with the ground : in this part 
 it was that the unhappy hero had the most feeling ; and, where the blood, leaving 
 the members and seeking for shelter, was retiring to the heart, his breast was 
 swelled, and, as he fetched breath, heaved and set; his belly was fallen in, and the 
 ribs were prominent; his upper parts to the navel were of a warm and fiery colour, 
 yet fresh and beautiful, as was also his face ; his lips were not as yet dead nor pale, 
 but his hands and feet almost burned black ; his eye-brows appeared drawn some- 
 what upw^ards, as one who, though sleepy, strives to keep awake ; the arms and 
 legs were bare, pale, and shrunk, as partaking of death ; but the fingers, knuckles, 
 knees and toes, were violet, heightened with yellow ; about the ribs and belly were 
 seen some red and violet spots of the poison ; and his linen, shoved underneath at 
 the navel, hung in rags, the major part whereof was under his body and thigh, and 
 partly stained with blood. Thus the illustrious hero, a thruiider to the wicked, lay 
 in agony. Jupiter, very much moved, cast his eyes downwards sideways on the pi- 
 tiful body, and spake to Mercury, who looked up at the celestial ruler with con^ 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 K 
 
66 
 
 Of Architect Live. 
 
 cern, as if lie were saying, -‘Look, father! he is expiring.” No people were seen 
 thereabouts, except those before mentioned ; nor any satyrs or wood-gods. It is 
 certain, that if any had been there, Hercules frightened them away in his rage. The 
 sorrow of Philoctetes was, in my opinion, inexpressible ; and the artist, therefore, 
 with reason, had covered his face. But why Paean’s s6n should be with Hercules 
 w ithout servants I could not apprehend ; but fancied it was because the painter 
 thought it unnecessary, this bosom friend alone sufficiently explaining the matter : 
 a second reason might be, because the poet mentions nothing of it ; and lastly, be- 
 cause the matter clears itself so well, that any addition would alter it, and, instead of 
 an unexpected act, make it rather appear as a premeditated funeral solemnity. 
 Whence, we may infer, that the pile w^as not prepared for him, but that he himself 
 made it on a sudden, as the poet relates. 
 
 This artful piece was remarkable for these three things naturally and plainly ex- 
 pressed ; to wit, the fact itself; what preceded, and what followed. The beginning 
 of the tragedy was, wdien, having received the poisoned shirt of Nessus by Lychas^ 
 he offered it up at the altar to Jupiter his father. The sequel of his rage appeared 
 by that unhappy wretch’s being cast into the sea, and metamorphosed into a rock ; 
 after which he burned himself ; and his succeeding triumph was shewn by the cha- 
 riot which Jupiter sends him for his deification. Henasciter ex funere Phoenix. 
 
 The conclusions to be made from the persons of Nessus, Dejanira, and Lychas, 
 may be these. 
 
 We learn from the Centaur how dangerous the gifts of enemies are; the cause 
 of the great hei'o’s death. In Dejanira we discover her imprudent and indiscreet 
 passion, and the effects of her jealousy, which made her the instrument of her 
 husband’s death ; and in Lychas we observe the miserable reward of his services, 
 and that the misfortunes of servants are sometimes by the great construed as to 
 render obedience and disobedience equally culpable. 
 
 Over the door, opposite to the former piece, was seen another in an octagon, equal 
 to the width of the door ; which I took at first to be a gap in the wall, because k 
 was a little darkish ; but, approaching, I found it thus. 
 
 . Second Victure. 
 
 Amphitryon, being with Alcmena in her bed-chamber, had, before he went to bed, 
 laid the two children, Iphiclus and Hercules, in his shield, under a pavilion ; into 
 which Ju7io, full of spite and rage, cast two serpents, in order to devour the two 
 innocents, especially Hercules ; who squeezed them to death, and flung them at Am- 
 phitryon s feet. 
 
 Forwards, on the left side, one step, high, were seen the two children lying in the 
 
67 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 slik^lci, encompassed with a balustrade running from the fore part of the piece 
 towards the point of sight, and which took up two thirds of the piece; Amphitryon, 
 at the children’s cry, leaping out of bed with an undrawn sword in his hand, came 
 to see what was the matter ; and, having one foot on the step, he met with the young 
 Hercules, looking at him with a smile, and grasping, with both hands, one of- the 
 serpents, which he squeezed to death ; the other lying already at his feet. Amazed 
 at this, Amphitryon started back ; the other child, bawling out, lay, half tumbled 
 out of the shield, with the pillow and part of the clothes on the floor. Behind 
 Hercules, andbeyond the shield, hung the Theban prince’s purple mantle over two 
 half pikes, which stuck up slanting from the w^all, and were tied together. Over 
 them, a little backward, the disappointed Juno was seen mounting upwards, encom- 
 passed with a dark cloud, with her sceptre by her side, in her left hand, and, with 
 the other lifted up, seeming to threaten with her fist, and looked down frowning at 
 the children. Somewhat further, beyond the balustrade, in the middle of the piece, 
 rose four or five steps, fenced in by a hand-rail, reaching quite across the piece. 
 Behind them, at the further end, in the middle of the piece, was a large and deep 
 eompass-niche or alcove, having a curtain drawn up and fastened, on^ each side, 
 with two rings ; herein stood the bed, The apartment was eight feet high, and hung 
 with tapestries ; and over them, as far as I could perceive, the wall was divided 
 into paniiels, wherein were some faint bass-reliefs, representing warlike acts. On 
 the left side of the alcove, in the corner, was a round pedestal or half-colourj where- 
 on stood a burning lamp. Alcmena, much concerned, stood somewhat stooping on 
 the steps, looking earnestly about, with a small torch in her hand, which she heM 
 up high ; resting the other on the pedestal of the hand-rail, and holding a part of 
 her white garment, which buttoned under her chin, and trailed behind • her hair 
 was tied up in a white cloth. The back-ground objects were seen, by the torch, 
 ill a dim light, except the corner wherein the lamp stood ; which, with the door, 
 adorned with fine foliage, shewed somewhat stronger. From Ju7io proceeded some 
 light rays, darting on the children and thereabouts. This light was not like that of 
 a candle, but of the day or thunder : it mostly fell on the upper parts of the child 
 in the shield ; his upper parts and head, with somewhat of the pillow, tumbled 
 out, were in the shade ; he turned in the shield his upper parts one way, and his 
 under ones another, which w^ere fore-shortened. Amphitipons upper parts, al- 
 most to the middle, were in the shade of the clouds, receiving strong reflections 
 from the children and the floor. I stood pondering, how Alcmena came by the 
 lighted torch ; but, on a narrow inspection, found a large gold candlestick standing 
 near her, by the other pedestal ; and I wondered why Alceuss son had not taken 
 it, yet, on further consideration, concluded, that through hurry and fear, he over- 
 
 K 2 
 
68 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 looked it, usiiul on siicli occssioiis ^ wliicli Alc'HfiCTici j^orceivin^, slie proli&.l)ly 
 jumped out of bed and siezed it. Such was this picture. These three lights were 
 finely and distinctly observed : the lamp, which was distant, gave a white or pale 
 light, but somewhat foggy. The flame of the torch was, almost to the wick, co- 
 vered by the clouds under Juno; which, as far as I could apprehend, was an artful 
 slight of the master, in order to render the foremost light the brighter and stronger, 
 and to avoid the necessity of making the whole piece dark ; which otherwise he 
 must have done for the sake of probability. 
 
 Juno had a diadem, and a light blue garment ; her head-attire was wild, and her 
 locks flying about like serpents. 
 
 The poets mention, that Hercules was represented by the ancients as an example 
 of all virtues, as well of the body as the soul; squeezing serpents to death with 
 his hands, even in his cradle; by which they give us to understand, that a man 
 fitted for heroism, ought, from his infancy, to shun pleasures, and mortify carnal 
 affections. 
 
 Now, thinking to go out of the apartments, to see what was furthur remarkable, 
 I, looking up higher, perceived another'picture against the covered ceiling, like a 
 cupola; wherefore, stopping to see it, and examine whether it had any relation to 
 the pieces before-mentioned, I found it to be the deification of the aforesaid great 
 hero, welcomed by Jupiter, and the whole train of gods and goddesses. 
 
 Jupiter sat in the middle, high on his eagle. Hercules, crowned with laurels, 
 was seen below, directly under him, standing, with one hand by his side, and 
 having an olive branch in the other ; he stood fronting down to half-way the thighs, 
 in the fore part of the chariot, which was on clouds ; the pole of it rose up a little 
 to the right side, according to the course of the horses, which Mercury was guiding 
 to the left side upwards, swaying again to the middle, and with the chariot making 
 a semicircle ; so that the winged horses were seen mostly from underneath ; their 
 breasts fronting, and heads towards the right. Mercury held the reins in with his right 
 hand, close to his mouth. The chariot was surrounded with many Cupids, having 
 garlands and branches. Mercury looked towards the right at Jupiter, who, with 
 his sceptre directed him to a circle of twelve glittering stars in the firmament, which 
 enlightened some small clouds in that quarter. The whole celestial body sat on 
 waving clouds, exulting and clapping their hands. The sun shone bright. 
 
 I was surprised that none had their badge of distinction, except Jupiter, riding on 
 his eagle, and holding the thunder, and Mercury with his Caduceus in his hand, and 
 wings on his feet ; but, on consideration that the gods are well known to each other, 
 I directed my eye to Hercules, and observed, that he was without his club and lion’s 
 skin, which induced me to think, they were burned with his body ; nevertheless, 
 
69 
 
 Of A rch iteci ure . 
 
 his frizzled hair and beard, and fine mien, convinced me, that it coiilti be nobody 
 but Hercules. In fine, I examined all the gods and goddesses, one after another, and 
 bewail to know them aill, to the very least: Apollo, by his radiant air and beautiful 
 body; Diana, by her black hair and brown complexion; jB«ccAw«, b^y his jolly; 
 cheeks and members : CEsculapius, by his long tressed hair and beard ; by 
 
 her plumpness and amorous look ; Momus, by his foolish countenance ; and so forth^ 
 Each had his proper colours: . Venus’s garment was red, Diana's, blue, Bacchu^s 
 purple, Ceres's straw-colour, Momus’s green and yellow, &c. which so distinguished 
 them as to leave no room for doubt, Juno and Iris appeared not in their com- 
 
 pany; because, 1 suppose, the former could not bear the affront of seeing Hercules 
 thus honoured. I examined further into the ornaments of the apartment, and per- 
 ceived they were so orderly and well adapted to the subject as to raise wonder. On 
 both sides of the room ranged eight columns of Pisan marble, cross-cut into bands 
 rather wide from one another ; on each side of the door and in each corner one, and 
 between these two others standing close together, with their architrave, frieze, and 
 cornice, and thereon a parapet with pannels, from w'hich sprung the coving of the 
 ceiling, in the middle w^hereof was this last mentioned piece in an oval compartment 
 of oak-leaves and acorns. The metopes in the frieze w'ere adorned with foliage of 
 the same sort of leaves; and in the pannels of the parapet were festoons, with a 
 crown of laurel hanging at them. Between the twm first and last columns appeared 
 other festoons in oblong pannels, and under each a club and lion’s skin: those fes- 
 toons w’^ere composed of palm branches, with their fruit. On both sides of the door, 
 between it and the first column, stood a palm-tree, whose branches reached up to the 
 coving, projecting very elegantly over the before-mentioned picture. Those palm- 
 trees, with the friezal ornaments, were bronzed ; the architrave and cornice, of serpen- 
 tine stone, and the frieze, like the columns, Pisan marble. On each side of the door, 
 between the two columns, was a large bass-relief of plain light and yellow marble. 
 The one represented Hercules asleep, surrounded by the troop of pigmies : the other 
 shewed his awaking, and hiding them in his lion’s skin. From this first proof of his 
 valour he afterw ards got the name of * Hercules Primogenitus. On the other side 
 of the apartment, opposite to this last, Hercules was seen spinning by Omphale; and, 
 in the other pannel on that side, his shooting Nessus. Round the ceiling-piece were 
 twelve small circular pannels, joined together with wreaths of palm-leaves ; these ex- 
 hibited, in faint bass-relief of fret-work, the labours of Hercules. Between them and 
 the piece appeared some lions heads. 
 
 * HyginuSy cap. 30. 
 
70 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 Before we proceed in our relation, let us shew what the heathens understood by 
 the deification of Hercules. 
 
 Hercules, the glory of valiant men, shews us, by his deification, that those who at- 
 tempt that honour in their life-times, as Anthony with his Cleopatra did, or strive to 
 obtain it by intreating and cajoling the people, as most of the Persian kings and 
 Romulus did, mistake the right method ; whereas Hercules's whole life was taken up 
 in freeing the world from monsters and tyrants ; and no divine honours were paid 
 him until after his death ; for eternity, which he obtained only by death, teaches, 
 that true virtue will not be flattered in this life ; as Alexander proved to those who 
 were beforehand for calling him a god, by shewing them the blood which issued from 
 his wounds, in the same manner as from other mortals. How powerful and virtuous 
 soever a man may be, as long as he draws breath he cannot call himself happy, as being 
 no more exempted from the teeth of biting envy, than Hercules was in his life-time. 
 The heathens worshipped him as a god, according to their superstition ; believing 
 also, that though all souls are immortal, yet those of valiant men, pursuing virtue, 
 attain a higher pitch of honour, and partake of the Deity : they even assign him, in 
 heaven, Hebe, the goddess of youth, for a consort, on account of his strength, which 
 i« found only in youth. 
 
 Thus, in after-times, the philosopher and poet Empedocles, (vainly, in imitation of 
 Hercules, who made his friend Philoctetes swear never to reveal the place where he 
 burnt himself, nor what was become of him, in order to induce the people to think 
 he was taken up into heaven) threw himself into mount JEtna: but his iron slippers 
 being cast out with the fiery stones, discovered the case and the truth. But, to re- 
 turn to our relation. 
 
 In going out of the apartment, I saw on the pavement a sphcera mundi, or terrestial 
 globe, curiously inlaid, divided on each side with compartments, and cut with ele- 
 gant bands of costly marble and jasper, which ran to the centre : each stone shewed 
 a monster running off from the globe, and such as Hercules, in his life-time, had de- 
 livered the world from. 
 
 I could not satisfy myself with the sight of this work. But having at last seen all 
 things here, I, by a side pair of stairs, landed on a passage leading to another apart- 
 ment, of the Ionic order, nothing inferior to the before-mentioned in rich ornaments 
 and marble. 
 
Of Architecture, 
 
 71 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 OF THE PICTURES IN THE THIRD STORY, BUILT AFTER THE 
 
 IONIC ORDER. 
 
 In ancient times, as Serimamis was combing and binding up her hair, news was 
 brought to her of the revolt of the Babylonians ; wdiereupon, with one of the tresses 
 hanging untied, she immediately marched against the rebels ; and bound not her 
 hair until slie had regained the town, and reduced the people to their obedience. 
 
 This courageous princess arose from her chair, half coifed, swearing with her right 
 thumb held up, and with her left hand pulling her side-locks towards her, which a 
 w^aiting woman next her, on the right, had in her hand, and wherein the comb was as 
 yet sticking. On the table by her, which was covered with a costly carpet of thick 
 gold embroidery, stood a large oval looking-glass, in a gold frame chased with foliage, 
 and on the top were two billing pigeons of unpolished silver. On the table lay also 
 some precious ornaments, as bracelets, neck-laces, jewels, &c. and her diadem, in 
 the shape of a pyramid, beset with stones. Behind her chair stood a young damsel, 
 holding a gold plate with some cups, pots, and little boxes of perfume. Behind this 
 virgin appeared two others in surprise and mutual embrace. On the left side was an 
 old matron, with her back fronting, holding an opened letter in her left hand. A 
 little more towards the middle, another virgin was pulling away, from the table into 
 the corner forwards, a little fountain elegantly wrought, and resting on four wheels. 
 In the fore-part of the piece, on the right side, a messenger was kneeling before the 
 queen quite dejected. At the further end of the apartment, in the middle, was a 
 gate-like opening, and on each side of it a term, of white marble, whereon hung 
 some warlike instruments. The room was hung with tapestry. The aforesaid gate 
 shewed an entrance into another magnificent apartment adorned with bass-reliefs and 
 other imagery : at the further end of it was seen a large shallow niche, and under it 
 a broad pedestal or elegant set, on the side of which sat the figure of a woman, with 
 the feet towards the light, holding in her lap a globe, whereon the right hand, with a 
 sceptre in it, rested. Its head was adorned with a triple mural crown. Over it, in 
 the niche, stood a bass-relief-like grave man, in a majestic dress, resting his right 
 hand on a truncheon, and having a torch in his left. He was crowned with flowers, 
 and about his neck hung a gold chain. This figure was golden, and the ground of 
 the niche, azure blue. The columns were of white, and the building of Egyptian 
 marble, and the ornaments gold. Behind the matron, at the end of the first apart- 
 ment, a young damsel, by the queen’s order (which the matron signified to her) was 
 
72 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 climbed up, reaching with one hand as high as she could, to take down some arms 
 off* one of the terms ; which the matron, with the bent fore-finger of her right hand, 
 beckoned to her, to bring forwards. Whereupon the damsel looking back as she 
 w as untying the weapons. 
 
 The queen stood by the table, with her upper parts turned a little to the left ; her 
 breast was half open, and put out ; her head, almost upright, inclining somewhat to- 
 wards the left shoulder; her eyes staring; her mouth, a little open, as if she were 
 speaking : she was dressed in white satin, over a dark blue bodice or cuirass, richly 
 embroidered with gold, and beset with precious stones ; the sleeves were very wdde, 
 but turned up, and fastened with a gold buckle or hook ; her gow n, buttoned above 
 the knee, and gathered up round about ; she was biiskined half-way the legs : her 
 robe, lying on the chair, was of Tyrian purple, embroidered with gold, and lined 
 wdth ermine. The young damsel, who was busy in attiring the head of the princess, 
 w'as dressed in violet. The virgin behind the chair, pushed somewhat by the queen s 
 starting up, stepped back and overthrew a cup on the plate, which put her out of 
 countenance : she was dressed in rose colour; and the two, behind her, in dark blue, 
 a little greenish. The matron had a long cloth garment of dark fillemot, gold-bor- 
 dered ; her under garment, as well as I could perceive by the sleeve, was dark violet, 
 and her head elegantly wound with fillets of many colours, the end whereof hung 
 down her back. The virgin, who took down the weapons, had a pale apple-blos- 
 som-coloured garment. The messenger was seen sideways, a little turning the back, 
 in a small gold-fringed mantle, dark grey or blackish, hanging halfway down his 
 back ; his under-coat was light grey, and reached below the knees ; his buskins were 
 of beast’s skin ; he had a dagger by his side, or stuck in his girdle, with a small staff 
 in his hand ; his helmet, having a dragon’s head, and two wings on top like those of 
 a bat, lay by him ; his brown skin shone with sweat, as did his hair, which was not 
 long, yet tied behind. 
 
 The apartment received its light from the right side, through a large compass- 
 headed window, which fell strongly on the queen, and about her, a little forward, 
 she caused a ground-shade on the corner of the table, by which the matron s under 
 parts were well set off. The messenger was mostly in siiade, as being more forward 
 than the window. The hangings, between the window and gateway, were half in 
 shade, which set the. princess and the attendance behind her strongly off. In one 
 of those hangings (Avhich were very old, and of a dark purple colour) was wrought, 
 in costly needle-work, the flood and lAoalis ark ; and, in the other, the confusion of 
 Babel, and the marching off and division of the people ; and above, about the sweep 
 of the gate, as round the edges of a medal, were Syriac characters or letters. On 
 the right side, over the hangings, the apartment appeared lighter, by means of two 
 
73 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 circular windows running towards the point of sight. The ceiling was covered. 
 The floor inlaid with large marbles of various colours. About the table, and on the 
 foremost group, lay a large white round stone, which gently united with the other 
 light ; yet without attracting the eye. 
 
 Forward, on the right side, behind the messenger, some steps went down to a 
 door below. Through the window appeared the distance, or part of a palm-tree. 
 
 I forgot to say, that the weapons hanging on the terms consisted of quivers, bows 
 and swords. In the bason of the golden fountain ran a spout of water, upon a cloth 
 or tw^o, and a spunge lying in it. 
 
 Over against this piece, on the opposite wall, w'as the sequel of the preceding, in a 
 
 Second Picture. 
 
 Here Semiramis was seen setting out from her court, with an extraordinary ma- 
 jesty and courage. She descended the steps very airily. A martial fire seemed to 
 inflame her heart, which gave a glow to her cheeks ; her eyes sparkled like two 
 stars. If she had not a helmet, I should, by her dress and accoutrements, have 
 taken her for a Diana going a hunting. Every thing was in readiness for her march, 
 even to her robe ; which she refused to put on, contented only with a bow and 
 arrows and her authority. The waiting woman ran up and down stairs, one bring- 
 ing this, another that ; one of the chief put the royal helmet on her head ; a foot- 
 stool was set for her, below on the stairs,' whilst the other was girding the sword 
 about her. The curvetting horse, inured to war, stood ready at the stair-foot. The 
 trumpets sounded, and the people, full of desire, crowded about. The passage was 
 cleared. The horse, divided into troops, were drawn up in the inner court. The 
 messenger ran down the further steps ; and the matron above, in the gateway, was 
 gaping and staring at the preparations. The sky was clear, and seemed to favour 
 the princess’s enterprise. 
 
 Having, through hurry, but transiently viewed these things, I could not possibly 
 well remember every circumstance, so as to give a true description of that excellent 
 piece ; wherefore, attentively placing myself before it, my observations were as fol- 
 lows ; 
 
 On the left side was seen a magnificent portico, with four Ionic columns support- 
 ing their ornaments ; and on each side a balustrade and plinth, running down five 
 or six steps, to a large pedestal, whereon lay lionesses, capped and covered, whose 
 bodies were full of Syriac characters. The gate was circular-headed ; and over it a 
 key-stone which supported the cornice, and wherein was a bronzed lion’s head. 
 Over each column, in the frieze, were some sorts of heads ; and between them, a 
 faint carved quiver and lighted torch across. On each side^ in the wings of the por- 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
74 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 tico, v/as a niche, the bottoms Vv hereof were even with the fill of the door, and ru fi- 
 ning towards the point of sight. At the extremities of those wings were two other 
 columns, standing against a wall, which ran on a low ground to the middle of the 
 piece. This wall was divided by flat fascias, in the nature of pilasters, and between 
 them were circular openings, through which was seen the inner-court, and above the 
 wall, its side, running deep in the piece towards the point of sight. At the end of 
 the wall was such another, parallel with the foremost, which bounded the inner-court; 
 and, further behind, some palm and other trees rose above it. On the fore-ground, 
 on the right side, the ground was rugged up to the landing place of the steps, des- 
 cendingdnto the fore-court ; in the middle of which stood a large fountain of white 
 marble, resting on a basis of four or eight arches, which were supported by square 
 smooth and high pillars, of the Doric or rustic order, divided by rusticated or rock- 
 like blocks ; over this work arose, instead of an entablature, a large plinth, three feet 
 high, of white marble, like the figures. On the top, in the middle, rising three or 
 four steps, stood a large terestrial globe, supported by four sphinxes ; on which globe 
 sat a woman, with her fore-parts towards the court, holding high, in the right hand, 
 a sun, and downwards, in her left, a moon. On her helmet was an eagle with spread 
 wings, and on her breast-ornaments a lion's head. Her dress was like that of an 
 heroine. On the lowest steps, next the plinth, sat the four parts of the world, 
 fettered against some trophies. Below, between the pillars, v/ere copper-bronzed 
 basons, which received some spouts of water from within, out of a rock. This 
 huge pile stood in the middle of the piece, against the point of sight, half behind 
 the wall. The fore-court was rough ; and, at the further end had steps ascending,, 
 as aforesaid. 
 
 Thus was the plan of this picture, and the disposition of all the fixed work ; I 
 shall now, to the best of my skill, describe the rest. 
 
 A little to the left of the point of sight the courageous queen was descending 
 the steps, with her left leg forwards, and her body bending somewhat back, poising 
 the right leg on a step higher. She swayed her upper parts to the left, with the 
 breast fronting ; somewfiat lifting up her left arm, which was guarded with a small 
 shield; at the same time, a stooping virgin girt her scimitar. Her right hand, in 
 which she held a bow, with the arm downwards ; and a quiver full of arrow^s ap- 
 peared above her left shoulder : a crowned helmet, ornamented with a large white 
 feather, was set on her head by another, and a third, with the royal robe, (which 
 the princess thought needless in this march) was going up stairs again, with her 
 eyes fixed on the queen : this virgin’s right side was a little fronting ; and she held 
 the robe high in her left hand, that it might not drag, and, with the right, kept the 
 rest close to her body ; her dark head-attire was strongly set off against the white 
 
75 
 
 0/ Architecture . 
 
 fiir, or lining of the robe; and her locks, through her swift motion, were flying 
 behind, and her gown folding between her legs : she was girt just under the breast, 
 und had white sandals : the gown was open on the side, discovering the bare leg 
 and half the thigh : her garment was rose-colour. The matron, near the gate-way, 
 stood stooping forward, and wondering, with her right hand on the balustrade, 
 and looking down. Next the first step, before the queen, under the point of sight, 
 stood a stooping damsel, setting a small ivory foot-stool, covered with purple velvet, 
 for the queen to mount her horse by ; she held it with her right hand, and with the 
 other was tucking up her garment behind, seeming fearful of the horse. A little 
 from thence came, from the right side of the piece, a young man, looking at the 
 damsel, and holding, with his right hand, a fine horse by the bridle; he was seen 
 from behind ; his left leg advanced, and the right drew quite back, just touching 
 the ground with his great toe ; his breast projected quite over his poise, as if he 
 were still walking, striking the horse’s belly with his left hand to make him turn 
 about. The horses breast was fronting, and, his right side somewhat foreshortened ; 
 his head in profile ; the foremost leg prancing, and the right drawing in, as if he 
 went backwards ; his open nostrils were white, as were also the breast and legs ; 
 the rest being dark or brown : the bridle and other things were gold beset with 
 stones, having a rich caparison, set off with gold plates ; the housing was purple, 
 richly embroidered with gold, powdered with pearls and other costlinesses, and 
 almost trailing the ground, with fine tassels flying up at the horse’s motion : the 
 mane drest into tresses ; and the tail buttoned up. A tiger’s skin covered the 
 breast. The young man had long light hair, tied behind ; his coat, girt in the 
 middle, was light yellow reflecting green ; being strongly set off against the purple 
 housing; his right shoulder, with half his back, was seen bare; and his carnation, 
 beautiful and fresh ; his sandals were white. The horse gave a ground-shade over 
 the damsel with the footstool, and a little beyond her. Quite on the right side, 
 somewhat further, stood tw'o trumpeters, turned towards the inner court, girt with 
 beasts skins, and sounding their trumpets almost like those of the Romans, winding 
 like serpents, with dragons heads at the ends of them. On the further side of the 
 queen, the messenger appeared running down the steps, quite over his poise ; point- 
 ing, with his right hand a little fore-shortened, forwards at the inner court, with 
 his face towards the queen : by the little flying mantle behind him, might be per- 
 ceived the swiftness of his motion ; his action, like that of a flying Mercury, being 
 free and extensive : he flung out his left leg, and his right foot was quite behind, 
 and off the ground. The people, on-the second ground, below stairs to the pedestal 
 of the first balustrade, were seen between his legs : these people, as well men as 
 women and children, stood, some wringing their hands, others lifting them up high; 
 
 L 2 
 
76 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 some embracing, others clapping their hands ; the former for fear, the latter for 
 joy : among the rest was seen a distressed woman, hanging her head side-ways, with 
 her arms down, and hands folded : by her stood a grave man, talking to her almost 
 mouth to mouth, with his right hand pointing up to heaven, and with his left giving 
 her a friendly look, he pulled her by the sleeve, as if he would have her take heart. 
 Some children were lying on, and crawling up the steps. In the fore-court some 
 troops of horse were seen putting themselves into order, and others mounting their 
 horses. On the further side of the place, other people were coming running down 
 the steps. The distance behind them, on the right side, was hilly. Over the afore- 
 said steps, at a distance, arose a large pyramid, and some palm-trees, appearing 
 darkish against the clear sky. The fore-court was light, and the inner court itself, 
 on the left side, of white marble. The wall, on the further side of the steps, was, 
 together with the people, and beyond the lionesses, shaded by a cloud ; which 
 strongly set off the foremost groupe, whereon the main light fell. 
 
 The trumpeters, on the same side, with a part of the balustrade on which they 
 leaned, were in shade. Forwards, in the corner, was seen part of an open gate, 
 and its side-w^all running up high, just beyond the trumpeters ; who thereby were 
 in the shade, receiving here and there, from the opening, a little light on their under 
 parts and legs. The gate was low, because the ground run off sloping from the 
 steps ; the ground, with the hind-part of the horse, being shaded by it. The horse 
 and young man received small but very strong lights and shades. The trumpeter 
 and gate were strongly reflected from the left side. The people on the second ground, 
 against the balustrade, were mostly lighted from on high, by the blue of the sky, 
 and could have no reflection, because they stood parallel along the stairs. Behind 
 the wall, with round openings against the angle of the wings of the portico, arose 
 the top or leafing of a large palm-tree ; w hich broke the length of the said wall ; 
 at the same time causing the extremities of the wings to unite agreeably with the 
 inner court. The portico, fronting the light, was, with the balustrades, of Pismi. 
 and JEgyptian marble, with white ornaments. The lionesses on the pedestals 
 were of serpentine. The upper steps were of white marble with eyes. The large 
 and spacious landing, at the foot of the steps, was of free-stone ; and the ground, 
 on the right side, somewhat russet, mixed with earth. 
 
 The matron had, as in the former piece, a dark fillemot upper garment, over a 
 violet one ; and her head was elegantly wound. The young virgins were also as 
 before. She who girt the princess with the sword had an apple-blossom-coloured 
 garment; her coat being tucked up behind; her head-attire was light against the 
 dark greenish blue garment of her, who, standing one step higher in the shade, was 
 putting on the queen’s helmet. The young damsel below, shaded by the horse. 
 
77 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 was likewise dressed in blue. The virgin, with the royal robe, stood close to the fore- 
 most balustrade, almost up the stairs, behind the lionesses, which were strongly 
 set off against her light garment. I had almost forgot a soldier standing in the gate 
 near the trumpets, with a club plated with iron on his shoulder ; he had alight grey 
 linen coat reaching below his knees, with stockings on his legs, and on his head 
 a copper helmet, adorned with two beasfs horns ; about his neck was fastened a 
 brownish red beast’s skin, with the paws to it, and by his side a dagger. This 
 man was entirely in the light of the gate. 
 
 After a thorough view of this picture, I began to consider wherein its goodness 
 lay, which was what I chiefly wanted ; wherefore, taking my pocket-book, I set 
 down in it the general heads in the following manner : — 
 
 First, The disposition of the irregular objects against each other, whether high 
 or low, standing or lying. 
 
 Secondly, The disposition of the grounds behind each other. 
 
 Thirdly, The placing of the lights. 
 
 Fourthly, The motion of the moving objects. 
 
 Fifthly, The proper by-works, climate, and customs. 
 
 Sixthly, The conditions or characters of the persons, with the dresses and Syrian 
 equipage. 
 
 Seventhly, The particular postures and passions. 
 
 Lastly, The harmony of the colours. 
 
 Being much rejoiced and inflamed with new ardour for further inquiries, I' saw 
 opposite to the aforesaid two pictures, on each side of the door, the following 
 bass-reliefs in white marble. 
 
 In that on the right side Semiramis was standing on the fore-ground, and by her 
 an architect, shewing her, on a board, the plan of a town-wall. On the left side 
 were workmen, busy in carvinig, hewing, cutting, and sawing stones : and, on the 
 second ground, the said wall appeared faintly just above ground, and next it was 
 the town. 
 
 In the other piece the queen was seen on horseback, with a quiver behind her, 
 and aiming at a lion, who, rearing up, approached her, with an arrow through his 
 body. In the distance, the town-wall appeared as finished, and here and there some 
 palm-trees. The figures were small life, and finely wrought. 
 
 Between those bass-reliefs stood a square pedestal in a niche, and on it the statue 
 of Semiramis, with a dead lion under her feet. She was dressed in the A.ssyria7i man- 
 ner, as an Amazon, with a bow in her hand, and a quiver behind her : and on her 
 head a crowned helmet, on the top whereof lay a little dragon, whose neck curled 
 down the fore-part of it. The pedestal was porphyry, and the figure massy gold.. 
 
78 Of Architecture. 
 
 The niche, like the building, was entirely serpentine, and the pillars and pilasters 
 of Egyptian marble. 
 
 Over the niche was an oblong azure-blue table or fascia, and thereon a pile 
 of burning wood, of white marble, out of the smoke whereof ascended a pigeon. 
 
 Over each column was a modillon of olive leaves, which supported the archi- 
 trave, and in the frieze were some arms, not much rising. All these ornaments were 
 of gold. 
 
 In the middle of the arch-work arose a very large cupola, and therein was a 
 celestial sphere, of blue chrystal, with the signs and circles of gold. The half of 
 this wonderful machine took up the cupola, shewing itself in such a manner as if 
 the sun shone on it, and enlightening the whole apartment ; for which reason, I 
 did not before take notice, that the room had no windows. On each side of the 
 sphere were two tables of fret-work, and each had a figure. In one w^as representd 
 Strength^ like an heroine, holding an oaken branch, and having a griflfin on the 
 shield; and in the other was also a heroine, political government^ leading 
 
 a bridled lion with the left hand, and holding a staff in the right. By which figures 
 and the sphere are understood the heavenly influences^ as philosophers intimate. 
 
 The floor was, like that in the under apartment, inlaid with a terrestrial globe, 
 just under the cupola ; where the light, falling directly upon it, made it rise, and 
 look so relieved, that I was afraid to walk on it. 
 
 Over the door, in a round co-partment of palm leaves, I saw carved, in white 
 marble, an old sea-god, whom I judged to be father Ocean, leaning on a large sea- 
 vase, shedding abundance of water, running cross through the piece; out of which 
 arose, in the middle, a large winged lion. On the other side of the sea-god appeared 
 a small hill, and thereon a little palm-stem. This table was like a medal of one 
 depth. The sense alluded to the first rise of the Assyrian monarchy, represented 
 by the winged lion, according to the prophet Daniel. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 OF THE PICTURES IN THE FOURTH STORY, BUILT AFTER 
 
 THE .ROMAN ORDER. 
 
 AV HEN Horatius had gained the victory over the three Curatii, and was going with 
 his arms to the capitol, he was met by his sister, who, espying those of her bride- 
 groom, called her brother a murderer : at which enraged, he drew his sword, and 
 stabbed her, thereby staining the victory with his own blood. The people judg- 
 
Of Architecture. 79 
 
 ing this to be a cruelty, voted, that he had therefore rendered himself unworthy of 
 the victory, and that he ought to be put to death. 
 
 Picture. 
 
 This sorrowful triumph happened before the capitol at Rome, as when in its an- 
 cient state. Forward is seen a large plain, encompassed with walls, where lay two 
 large lionesses of porphyry, which, it is probable, the artist introduced, in order to 
 make the place more remarkable ; and though it may be doubted whether they 
 have been of so long standing, yet we may easily admit it. On the right side was re- 
 presented the proud capitol of marble, and costly architecture, after the Roman 
 order, ascended by a spacious flight of steps. On the top was this inscription in gold 
 letters — SEN AT. US POPULUSQUE ROMANES, i. e. the senate and people of 
 Rome. Here, they were mounting the steps with arms on pikes. Horatius followed, 
 sheathing his sword. Behind him, his unhappy sister dropped down backwards, 
 the people from all corners, flocked together, muttering and cursing his cruelty ; but 
 he, regardless of it, boldly went forward. Before the steps, about three or four 
 paces length, the ground was paved with large grey stones ; the residue being rug- 
 ged or uneven : the foremast weapon-bearer, entering the gate, held his trophy some- 
 what stooping within it : he was seen from behind, having almost the same action as 
 the gladiator ; his left arm extended, and his right leg on the threshold. The second, 
 two or three steps down, held his weapon up against his body, looking back at the 
 third, who followed close, and was speaking to him. This poised on his left leg, 
 having his right very much bent, and the toes of it on a step higher; his upper parts 
 swayed a little to the left, with his head forwards, holding the pike in his left hand 
 against his right breast, and the bottom of it with his right hand. The third carried 
 the trophy on his shoulder almost upright; his breast projecting, and his back 
 swaying a little forwards, with his elbow standing out, setting his right foot on the 
 steps ; the left being quite behind, and off the ground, as walking on, and the other 
 before him, as a little stooping ; those three men were called Velites, or light-armed, 
 and dressed in linen, girt about the middle, with daggers, by their sides and plain 
 helmets on their heads ; as we see in the prints of Trajan! s column, and other remains 
 of antiquity. Three or four steps from thence, 'just in the middle of the piece, 
 Horatius advanced in full armour, holding an olive-branch beside his scabbard in 
 his left l>and, and on the same arm (which, with the elbow, was putting out, and a 
 little fore-shortened) a small shield, whereon was represented a lion. His breast was 
 fronting, and the right hand lifted up and sheathing his sword. His right leg was. 
 put forth, somewhat bent, and the other drawn far back in the shade of his body, as 
 if he were stepping forward in haste. With his face fronting he looked down on 
 
80 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 the scabbard ; having on his head a helmet crowned with laurel and oak-leaves ; 
 with a feather behind, which by the turn of his head, and the swiftness of his walk, 
 flew to and fro. A mantle, fastened on his right shoulder, and tucked under his 
 chin, hung a little over his left shoulder; one flappet of it flew behind, and the other 
 forwards, flinging over his left leg. Xhe straps under his coat of armour and on the 
 arms were short and broad, and rounding at bottoms. His buskins came half-way 
 up the legs. A little from him forwards was seem the expiring virgin falling back, 
 with her feet extended towards him, and arms spread wide, the right lifted up and 
 the left sinking, her breast turned to the light, her right hip swelled, her thigh was 
 at full length, and the leg a little fore-shortened ; the left leg hid under the right : 
 her face also foreshortened leaned towards the left shoulder, which, with a little of 
 the breast, was naked ; her breast garment girt under the breast was flying upwards, 
 her upper garment sinking, slung over her right leg, and a flappet ol it hung over her 
 left arm ; her light tresses, by her tumble, flew upw'ards. Beneath her, a little more 
 to the left side, was an aged woman supporting the noble virgin, and shrieking out 
 beholding the murderer ; she, with her breast downwards, and left hand on the 
 ground, and right hand lifted up, was staying with her body, the back of the drop- 
 ping Roman virgin: her head was wound with cloths and fillets. Just behind her 
 appeared the half of a pedestal, whereon lay one of the aforesaid lionesses, and 
 somewhat further behind the fellow of it, running towards the point of sight. Tw'o 
 soldiers followed Horatius, who, in dissatisfaction, seemed to turn back. Not far 
 behind the conqueror were some spectators highly discontented ; some were point- 
 ing at him, some menacing, others disdainfully turning their backs upon him, &c. 
 It looked as if we heard them grumble. On the fore-ground, on the right side, an 
 aged man, with one shoulder bare, came hastily running to see what was the matter ; 
 he had on a short coat with a herdsman’s cap on his head, and a flute and scrip at 
 his side ; his under parts w ere, with part of the fore ground in shade, and his back 
 fronted the light. A dog ran before, looking back at him, according to the custom 
 of those creatures. Beyond the capitol, part of a wall with its architrave, and a large 
 compass-headed gateway, ran towards the point of sight. This wall extended from 
 thence across the piece by the point of sight, to the left side, and was divided by 
 rusticated Doric pilasters, into squares, wherein were small niches. Out of this 
 gate just below the wall, some cattle, as oxen, cows, goats, and sheep were coming, 
 wuth a shepherd, who at the noise was looking back. This shepherd and cattle 
 coming in at the gate made me believe he came from the market, because it was 
 behind the capitol. Over the wall appeared several fine palace-like buildings, as 
 also a column, whereon was placed a she wolf, with the two children, Romules and 
 Remus. Above the angle of this wall on the right side, in the distance, was seen, as 
 
81 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 Avell as I could guess, the rock Tarpeia, rising up very high ; but neither Pantheon, 
 Monte Cavallo, Vatican, or Colosseum, as not being as yet known : no ruins or broken 
 buildings appeared here, but all beautiful and whole, except some little houses; 
 since the town had not been an hundred years standing, nor before ruined. On the 
 left side forward in the corner, on a rising ground, stood a woman by the trough Of 
 a fountain, astonished and crying out, who seemed as if she were going away ; lifting 
 up one hand on high, and holding out the other to a young girl, who came running 
 in confusion. A child, held by another girl sitting on the side of the trough, was 
 looking dowm on the ground on an overturned pot of milk. This fountain stood 
 against a large pyramid, wdiich run towards the point of sight. Several ordinary 
 dressed people, men, women, and children, came running in groups three or four to- 
 gether from behind the pyramid ; others were returning from thence. The young 
 girl, who came running in confusion, had a short coat, and was barefooted, and her 
 hair very meanly tied behind. These people and objects with the pyramid, filled up 
 almost a fourth part of the piece. A row of low houses, like a hamlet, ran by the 
 pyramid towards the point of sight, and above them arose some pines, cypresses, and 
 other trees. 
 
 This piece was lighted from the right side, yet a little fronting. The capitol gave 
 a large ground shade over the steps beyond the two arm-bearers, and continued be- 
 yond Horatius, over two or three men, who stood behind him, against whom he was 
 strongly set off. The side walls, w ith the gate, reached half the height of the build- 
 ing, the same receiving strong reflections from the ground, and having ground shades 
 which were not too sharp. The pyramid, with the women and children, was kept 
 somewhat darkish, by reason of a cloud, except the top of the pyramid, which re- 
 ceived a clear light. The sky was full of clouds, especially in the middle, and on 
 the left side of the point of sight, behind the houses. 
 
 The Romans in those days, except people of the first rank, wore little or no variety 
 in the colours of their clothes ; they were mostly white, or else light grey woollen. 
 For this reason, as I conjecture, the designer of these pictures had made the principal 
 persons to excel, for I perceived that the people were mostly in grey or white; some 
 a little russet, others inclining to green. Few among them, except aged people, had 
 long gowns or garments. Horatius’s coat of armour shewed golden, the straps under 
 it, and on the arms, were elegantly embroidered on a fillemot ground ; his mantle 
 was yellowish white, wdth violet reflection. The scabbard of his sword was dark 
 blue, finely wrought, the hilt represented an eagle’s head : his buskins tied with 
 white strings, but quite fouled, as I judged, by sand and dust, were purple. His 
 sister’s upper garment was light blue, her breast garment light yellow, with violet 
 reflection, almost like that of her brother. The aged woman beneath her was 
 
 VOL. II» 
 
 M 
 
82 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 svvarthy skinned ; her garment greenish blue and plain. The lionesses were dark 
 porphyry, and the pyramid of a rocky stone. 
 
 Having sufficiently viewed this picture, and exactly learned all the circumstances 
 of it, I took infinite delight in seeing how naturally the occurrence was expressed, 
 and that nothing was superfluously introduced, though the story does not make 
 mention of all the persons who were brought into this representation. I thought, it 
 is truly of great moment that the principal parts of a story be well expressed ; and 
 herein a good master has work enough to give each person his due passion, to the 
 end the matter must speak for itself ; but it becomes still more excellent by the ad- 
 dition of all other necessary circumstances (though not to be found in the historian) 
 after such a manner that both appear natural. 
 
 On the right side of this piece, I saw a carved bass-relief in white marble, exhibit- 
 ing an emblem over the foregoing. This bass-relief appeared in a niche running to- 
 wards the point of sight. On some high steps, Roma was on her right knee, and 
 lifted up by Valour. Her breast was fronting, and her head turned a little back- 
 wards towards the left shoulder, her right arm hung down, just touching the steps 
 with the tips of the fingers ; her left elbow stood out towards the left side, in the 
 hand whereof she held a hanging flappet of her garment. The left foot, far from the 
 Steps, rested on the toes, seeming by the rise of the hip, and the knee keeping down 
 against the steps to push her up. Valour was represented turning its upper parts 
 sideways towards Roma^ supporting her elbow with its right hand, the arm whereof 
 being faint in the ground. Its head was in profile, and the left arm guarded with a 
 shield, a little drawn back. It stood somewhat like the known statue of Apollo^ 
 supported on its right leg, the left faintly uniting with the ground. A little further, 
 Albania was on her knees, quite bowing her body ; she was decked as a heroine, 
 with a helmet in the form of a town-wall, on her head, and laid with the left hand a 
 staff down on the ground, holding the other at her breast; her left knee was up- 
 wards, with the foot drawn in, and she looked down with a dejected countenance. 
 Behind her stood Fate, yoking her shoulders, and she at the same time pointed back- 
 wards with the right hand at some trophies which hung on pikes, and united faintly 
 with the ground. This goddess of Fate was dressed like an old matron; in her 
 girdle stuck a pair of scissors ; her under parts were seen sideways, and the upper 
 from behind, with her eyes fixed on Roma. Under the trophies the horned Fiber 
 god lay with his left arm resting on a large vase, and holding in his right hand an oar 
 behind his right side; he lay on his left side, with the breast turned against the light; 
 the left leg was stretched out, yet faintly rising ; the right hip upwards, and the thigh 
 seen only to the knee, rested on the other leg, the residue united with the ground. 
 Behind his back the she wolf and parts of the two children were seen. Above him 
 
83 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 appeared some columns, as of a portico, running towards the point of sight, which, 
 as on the other side, were half lost in the ground. Victory flying between Roma 
 and Valour, held in her right hand a crown of laurel over the head of the former, and 
 with the left putting into her hand a sceptre topped with a little globe ; her garment 
 was flying behind her, and her legs quite extended without any fore-shortening, faint- 
 ly united with the ground. In the shield of Valour was represented the combat of 
 Horatins with the Curatii, and on her helmet, crowned with oak leaves, was a lion’s 
 head, and the same on her buskins. This work was inclosed between two young 
 palm trees with few leaves. 
 
 The triumph, on account of the mournful accident, so much affected me, that I re- 
 mained in suspense, not knowing for fear of a miserable issue, whither I might turn to 
 the following piece : nevertheless, considering the bravery of Hoj'atius’s exploit, 
 whereon depended the power of RomCy I took heart, in hopes of his preservation, 
 which I found agreeable to the writer’s relation. 
 
 Horatius then was secured for the murder of his sister, and, according to law, sen- 
 tenced to be put to death : yet, in consideration of his heroic action pardoned, on 
 condition that his father paid, as a fine, a certain sum of money, into the public 
 treasury. The picture, as I remember, was thus : — 
 
 Second Picture. 
 
 At the capitol. Justice^ or the Roman law, sat in a raised chair, with the scales in 
 her left, and a pole-axe in her right hand. In one scale lay a sword, and in the other 
 a crown of laurel with a palm branch ; this latter far over balancing the other scale, 
 as a token that the law is mitigated by mercy. The criminal stood very dejected be- 
 fore her, with his hands ironed behind him. On her left side, the father on his knees 
 was offering a vessel of money at her feet: on her right stood Mercy withholding 
 the hand wherein was the pole-axe, and with the other pointing at a picture held by 
 some children, representing the decayed Roman dominion restored by the valour of 
 Horatius. Further were seen the arms of the three slain brethren, planted there by 
 himself round the statue of Roma, whereon Justice had fixed her eyes. Another 
 child crowned with laurel, was loosing the fetters of the accused with one hand, and 
 putting on his helmet, or setting up the cap of liberty with the other. On each side 
 of the throne was a bass-relief, and over them two niches : in that on the right side 
 was represented Numa Pompilius^ and in that on the left, Lycurgus, two of the most 
 ancient legislators. The bass-relief under Numa exhibited the example of Char on- 
 das^ who, to enforce his law, stabbed himself in full senate, for having acted contrary 
 to it: and under LycurguSyihdLtoi Seleucus, when, for his son’s sake, who by law 
 had forfeited his eyes, he caused one of his own to be put out. So strict were the 
 
 M 2 
 
84 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 ancient Homans in support of tlieir laws. Over the throne hung two tables, contain- 
 ing the /2nm^^(^^laws, wriUen in Greek letters of gold. 
 
 This unexpected event much rejoiced me ; wherefore, fidl of desire, I vA ent to a 
 third picture, in order to observe on Avhat basis so great a Avork Avas built, and found 
 it as folloAA^s : 
 
 Tullus Hostilius, chosen by the Roman people for their third king, on account of 
 his great ability and merit, invaded the Alban territory, though a stout people, and 
 bearing much sway in Italy. These, weakened by many battles, at last agreed with 
 the Romans to end the dispute by a combat betAveen three brothers on each side : 
 those of the Romans were named Horatii, and of the Albans, Curatii. The fight 
 was glorious, yet doubtful, but at last fortunate for the Romatis; for one of the 
 Horatii, after having lost his tAvo brothers, mistrusting his strength against three such 
 brave enemies, added policy to his courage, and by an artful sleight slew the three 
 Curatii one after another, and thus got the victory. 
 
 Third Picture. 
 
 Here appeared the place of combat fenced in. On the riglit side was seen the 
 general of the Roman forces, and, on the other, at a distance, he of the Albans, both 
 sitting somewhat high, with their badges of distinction. In the middle of the piece, 
 Horatius w^as represented turning tail to the last of the Curatii; but, returning, he 
 run his pursuer through the breast; whereupon he fell backvvards. The second, a 
 little from thence, Avas on his knees, with his face to the ground, and all bloody, 
 bearing up a little on his elbow : he lay about the middle of the fence, against a post, 
 whereon stood the figure of Fate, or Fortune in copper. Just beyond this post lay 
 the third stretched out on his back : and at the end of the paling were seen the two 
 dead Horatii. Over the valiant hero. Victory shewed herself, with the left hand 
 crowning him with laurel, and with the right holding out a cap and staff to the chief 
 of the Romans, who thereupon joyfully came doAvn from his seat, with the acclama- 
 tions and clappings of the people. Opposite, stood the chief of the contrary party 
 astonished, and turning his back, in order to go away : the people withdrew in tu- 
 mult at the sound of the Roman trumpets, leaving the field-badges in the place. On 
 the right side, behind the Romans, appeared part of the town-wall, and on the other, 
 behind the Albans, up to the wall, the field full of tents on a lovv ground. Over the 
 Roman arbiter, or umpire, were seen Romulus and Remus, cut in a large stone. The 
 field-badge of the Albans was a dragon or harpy. In the distance appeared the Ti- 
 ber, and the Alps always covered with snoAv. 
 
 Thus was the plan of this artful piece, Avhich I thought no less wonderful than 
 the others i» force and disposition, as well as naturalness. Every thing was exactly 
 
Of Architecture. 85 
 
 observed, the passions and motions so well expressed, the place so plainly apparent, 
 the quality of the by-works so proper, and the lights, shades, colours, &c. so advan- 
 tageously distributed, that I could scarce believe it a picture. I could not but ad- 
 mire the three remarkable divisions of this story : as first, the beginning, happening 
 without the town ; secondly, the sequel, seen within the town ; and lastly, the end of 
 the story, or, what was transacted in the capitol, without any thing of moment in- 
 tervening, from whence a painter could make a picture. I speak, with respect to 
 the different matter which opportunely offers to the thoughts and execution of a ju- 
 dicious master. 
 
 As the sense of the story is very particular, so the three pictures were as excellent 
 from first to last. In the first, we perceive the lucky chance of arms, or the valour 
 of the hero, whereby he gained the repute of a deliverer of his country: in the 
 second, w^e consider him as a murderer, or, the accident as a bloody triumph, and 
 him elated with his success : and, in the third, we see him a malefactor, condemned 
 to be put to death, or one who had transgressed the laws. Truly, those three events 
 may serve for instructive examples to all men. Do we not see in them the common 
 course of the world, and that too great success and prosperity make many men proud 
 and insolent ? and what do not their blind passions lead them to ! certainly, unthank- 
 fulness to Heaven is the prelude to many disasters and errors, leading them into the 
 greatest dangers : however, all things are governed by Providence. 
 
 The middle of the ceiling had a large oval piece, wherein Providence was, in the 
 greatest depth, represented sitting on a globe, dressed in gold stuff, with her head 
 crowned, and about it twelve glittering stars, having in her right hand a sceptre, 
 with an eye on top ; on her breast, a sun, and on her knee holding a looking glass 
 with her left hand ; her look w as full of majesty and authority : she pointed down- 
 wards at Koma^ who sat a little to the left side, on a cloud, attended by Religion^ 
 Valour^ and Concord. JLong Life, Health, and Prosperity, came gently waving 
 down towards her. Long Life wus a beautiful virgin in her prime, with a flame of 
 fire on her head, and a serpent with the tail in its mouth in her hand. Health was 
 ^sculapius, holding a staff, about which twined a serpent. Prosperity appeared a 
 naked youth, crowned with laurel, with a cornucopiee, full of fruit, under his arm. 
 Religion, or Piety, was dressed like a vestal, holding in her right hand a cup emit- 
 ting a flame, and looking up at Providence. Valour was represented like an Hercules, 
 with his club and lion’s skin. Concord looked somewhat more composed than Piety, 
 having in her arms a bundle of rods, which a Cupid tied with a red ribbon. Roma, 
 dressed in white or light blue, under a purple robe embroidered with gold, held in» 
 her right hand a pike, and in the left a laurel branch ; on her head she had a heir- 
 met, and buskins on her legs. 
 
86 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 Now, we ought to weigh the meanings of these things. Providence is to be con- 
 sidered as the chief ruler of worldly affairs, debasing and raising empires as she 
 pleases. The three gifts of Long Life, Health, and Prosperity, are blessings flowing 
 from her. The corporeal virtues are the eflTects of might, whence they proceed : the 
 first is Religion, the second Valour, and the third Concord : these established Roma 
 in her power, and increased it. In relation to art, let us observe with what ingenu- 
 ity and singularity the master has executed those pictures ; I say singularity, since 
 I never saw them treated by any other in such a manner. First, Providence is in the 
 greatest depth, and, according to guess, thriee as large as the life. The three gifts, 
 which she sends down, being somewhat lower, are not half so large ; and the under- 
 most, to wit, Roma, and the characters accompanying her, are still smaller, yet 
 somewhat larger than the life. 
 
 Providence has no bounds, always maintaining uncontrolled power without 
 diminution ; and though the three gifts, which flow from her, are but small parts, 
 yet, with respect to the undermost figures, they are much larger, and keep among 
 them their own forms, as reigning over them. The three others on the undermost 
 clouds being but corporeal virtues, are therefore much smaller than the preceding, 
 and appear with less majesty : nevertheless JRoma excels, and shews herself greater, 
 intimating thereby her growth and improvement. Her sitting on clouds implies, in 
 my opinion, her rising above all other powers of the world. 
 
 This would be a monstrous design, if art, with respect to perspective, were not 
 duly observed : but, by this means, the piece looked so perfect, that I judged it could 
 not otherwise be good ; for the undermost group, as quite low, was very strong ; the 
 middlemost, according to its distance, somewhat fainter ; and tlie uppermost, very 
 faint, and almost imperceptible. 
 
 This emblem bears a mysterious interpretation, and may, in general, be applied to 
 all the governments in the world, provided the figure of Roma be altered, and an- 
 other substituted, as things require. Instead of iEsciilapius we may represent 
 health, by the figure of a woman, and in the place of Hercules, the same; taking 
 for Valour a heroine, holding an oaken branch in her right hand, with a lion on her 
 shield. 
 
 In treating formerly of this sort of fables, we have called them emblematical, 
 carrying a mystic sense, whether they be mundane or spiritual ; however, as a dis- 
 tinction between both, and to shew that this is mundane and historical, we must ob- 
 serve, that it is not intermixed with any emblematic figures, which have a spiritual 
 sense, except those of Aesculapius and Hercules^ which therefore in this work I 
 reject as unfit, and only proper for poetic and fabulous subjects ; as if, instead 
 of Roma, were introduced Troja oy Egina, which are dominions no where now 
 
87 
 
 Of Architect lire , 
 
 subsisting but in the poetic writings ; we find that this emblem, like its subject, 
 is not only mundane and heathenish, as thestory of Horatius proves, but that therein 
 is also expressed the force or mysterious sense by those heathenish figures. 
 
 Now, if it be asked, why this ceiling piece does not allude to the person of Ho- 
 ratius as that in the tenth chapter to Hercules : my opinion is, that the conclusion of 
 the story, so far as it respects him, is contained in the second picture : for here we 
 cannot expect any deification, nor do the gods interfere in the matter: they regard 
 only those who are reckoned in their number, such as Mneas, Hercules Memnon, 
 and others of godly race. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 THE FABLE OF CALISTO, ADAPTED TO THE CORINTHIAN 
 ORDER, IN THE UPPER STORY. 
 
 I AM delighted to relate here, in four pieces, the wonderfully embellished story of 
 Calisto^ and her deification ; as not unworthy, in my judgment, to adorn so fine an. 
 apartment as this last, which was that of the Corinthian order, and very magnifi- 
 cent, as well with respect to the extraordinary thoughts as their artful turn ; the 
 conclusion whereof renders this work most perfect. 
 
 The piece was as follows — 
 
 Calisto, tired with hunting, went to repose in the shade of the trees ; Jupiter en- 
 amoured with her, came to delude her in the shape of Diana, and gratified his pas- 
 sion, notwithstanding all her efforts to the contrary. 
 
 There, on the right side of the piece, on an eminence, the innocent creature was 
 sitting under the trees, not at rest, but full of concern, shame, and dread, melted 
 into tears, with her hand on the edge of a fountain ; her tresses, half loosed, hung 
 carelessly over her naked shoulders ; her chaste bosom was above half bare, and 
 her legs uncovered to unseemliness, sufficiently shewed her sorrowful fate. Jupiter j 
 the author of it, was seen a little off, next the middle of the piece, above the ho- 
 rizon, not as a disguised or pretended Diana, but the chief of the gods, shining 
 with majesty, with his diadem on his head, and in his purple robe; not as a thun- 
 derer, with lightnings and tempests, but only attended by his eagle. The cruel and 
 degenerate lover seemed to deride her sorrow, having his left hand up at his breast, 
 as if he meant, that he had got his will ; wherefore, penetrating the clouds, he ad- 
 vanced through the air, forsaking the miserable woman. The unmerciful incendiary, 
 Cupid was extinguishing his torch in the fountain, looking at Jupiter, who, with 
 
88 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 his pointing sceptre, commanded him to do so. Diana v/as seen in the distance, 
 in a valley, with her retinue of nymphs. The landscape was delightful and woody : 
 here and there appeared some river gods. Behind Calisto, among the trees, stood 
 a term of Priapus in shades. I attentively viewed the aforesaid three figures, and, 
 reflected to myself, how well they acted their parts ; clearly opening the matter, 
 even to the very term, which, though it might be placed there accidentally, yet con- 
 tributed towards the expression. 
 
 Second Picture. 
 
 The unhappy Calisto, bemoaning her misfortune, and full of shame and fear, and 
 discarded by her mistress, v>^as seeking shelter in solitudes : yet the jealous Juno 
 spied and found her there. 
 
 On the left side of the piece appeared the superior goddess of heaven, gl ittering 
 coifed with peacock’s feathers, instead of a diadem, or royal head ornament, and 
 seeming to turn about, as she was stepping on a cloud in order to go upwards : 
 she was dressed in her blue garment, and held her sceptre in her right hand, on the 
 right hip, charging Hellish Rage, or Revenge, which attended and was at her back, 
 to punish the innocent Calisto; and, lifting up her left arm, and the fingers straight 
 up, she with a severe and envious look, reproached the oppressed creature with 
 lying with her consort. Revenge was beating with serpents and adders, besides 
 her smoaking pitch-torch, the miserable Calisto; who now had no more of her 
 former shape, except her clothes, which fell a prey to the hellish fury ; there lay the 
 quiver, here the bow, yonder the girdle; as I conceived it was a she-bear who 
 shook off those clothes, and was taken to flight. Being now metamorphosed into so 
 frightful a monster, by the immoveable jealousy of Juno ; she, in her flight, looking 
 up to heaven, seemed, by her roar, to move Jupiter to pity. This landscape was 
 also a dark wood, filled here and there with sleeping river gods : among the trees 
 appeared some wild beasts running about, and a lion in a bottom on the right side 
 near a rock, drinking at a river: up and down arose some palm and other trees. 
 After this piece another presented, the subject whereof was this 
 
 Areas, son of the deluded and metamorphosed Calisto, was fifteen years of age, 
 when, according to his custom, going a hunting, he met with a frightful she-bear 
 which came towards him, not to hurt him, as he thought, but, if possible, to make 
 herself known to him ; yet ignorant that she was his mother, stoutly prepared to 
 shoot her. Jupiter, from heaven, seeing this, in pity hindered the matricide. 
 
 Third Victure. 
 
 Jtlere, on the right side of the piece, Areas appeared gently stepping forth from 
 
89 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 behind some trees, and putting an arrow into his bow, in order to shoot his mother, 
 unknown to him in that shape. But Mercury^ flying down suddenly, withheld his 
 arm ; at whom he therefore looked back. The celestial messenger staring behind 
 at the she-bear, which was on the second ground, intimating with his staff in his 
 left hand that she should take to flight, which she seemed to do ; she stood up- 
 right, with her under parts towards him, and the upper turned to the left, swaying 
 towards the road. The way she took was apparent, beginning from her feet like 
 dust, or thin vapours, altering, by degrees, into clouds, which ran winding about 
 her, and at last mixed with the air, wherein Jupiter appeared, yet very faint, and 
 almost imperceptible. In the clouds by him, on his right side, but somewhat lower 
 and more forward, sat the three fatal sisters, of whom Clotlio was spinning the 
 thread, Lachesis winding it on the reel, and Atropos ready to cut it, which Jupiter 
 observing laid his left hand on the scissors, holding up his sceptre in the other, 
 with his mouth a little open ; she, surprised at this, turned towards him. Areas 
 stood astride, with his breast projecting. Behind him, on and near a stone lay 
 some game, as a hind, fox, hare, &c. together with a garment, which I judged to 
 be his. Low against the said stone lay a river-god, with his vase. This landscape 
 was woody like the others. The she bear, about the middle of the piece, appeared 
 in the shade against the light distance. On the left side on the second ground, or 
 at the extremity of the first, was a ruined tomb, with some cypresses ; and behind, 
 on a further ground, arose a large rock. 
 
 After this, I was curious to view diligently the ceiling-piece, as the conclusion of 
 this artful work, and I found it thus : — 
 
 Jupiter affected with the sorrowful fate of Calisto, does, notwithstanding Junos 
 hatred, glorify her with the radiant brightness of the north-star, which among the 
 constellations, is named the Great Bear, and is followed by the Little Bear, into 
 which her son Areas was transformed. 
 
 Fourth Pieture. 
 
 Underneath in the piece the youth was seen flying upwards, pursuing his mother 
 with a bow and arrow, and supported by some Cupids: he appeared backwards, 
 without any fore-shortening, with his right arm, with the arrow extended, and the 
 other with the bow behind, having a quiver by his side. Jupiter somewhat above 
 him on the right side sitting on a cloud, and large-sized, was, with an erect scep- 
 tre, shewing him the zodiac, wherein a particular bright star appeared very glitter- 
 ing. The bear was seen rising a little beyond the said star, looking back upwards, 
 and being encompassed with a great shining light in the shape of a star, which 
 enlightened the whole piece ; her hind paws rested on the clouds, which, beside 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 N 
 
90 
 
 Of Architecture. 
 
 her, from Jupiter, off to the left side rose under her. Quite on the left side sat 
 Juno on the rainbow, looking enviously at Areas; she leaned her head on her left 
 hand, with the elbow on the rainbow, and lay half turned to the right, her under 
 parts inclining towards Areas, and the upper from him : her right arm and sceptre 
 crossed her body. At her feet, on the clouds, lay some water-gods and goddesses, 
 as sub-directors of the clouds and dew. Behind her stood her peacock, with its 
 tail so spread as seemingly to serve for a diadem. Iris appeared looking upwards 
 behind her with a hand over her eyes to shade them from the beams of the star. 
 T>iana and Apollo sat behind her. Juno and those sitting beneath her were shaded 
 by the driving clouds above. Diana, Apollo, and others, looked smiling. Jupiter 
 appeared directly in the light, of equal height with the bear. Juno was a little 
 lower, and the river-gods and Areas beneath her : he was a youth of small size, re- 
 ceiving his light from the star above. 
 
 Thus the work concluded with the deification of the unhappy Calisto, a second 
 time metamorphosed. It would be troublesome to relate all the particulars of it, 
 and needless to the knowing : wherefore, I shall only subjoin the general disposition 
 of the lights and shaded parts. Jupiter and Areas were strongly lighted against 
 the blue of the sky on the right side. Juno contrarily, on the left side, where the 
 star was dark. The foremost water-god under Juno, received a little light from 
 above, holding his hand over his eyes. 
 
 Animadversion. 
 
 This fable clearly shews, how beautiful bodies are polluted by uncleanness ; for 
 in a short time after Calisto was delivered of her son. Areas, Juno transformed her, 
 as a punishment of her unchastity, into a she-bear, a beast so deformed, as to be 
 reckoned among monsters. The aforesaid evil has such direful effects, that the 
 fruit or children of unlawful love mortally hate their guilty parents ; for beauty 
 stained with unchastity is of no account in the eyes of the virtuous, and what 
 before created wonder is now a mark of infamy. Ovid, in an elegant and artful 
 manner, assigns Calisto a notable place in the northern hemisphere, and shews 
 Junds intreating Thetis, that those stars (according to the belief of the heathens) 
 might never refresh themselves in the sea, in order to pourtray wonderfully her 
 eternal shame, as surpassing the other capital stars, and having such a station near 
 the northern pole, that, as this pole or point of the axis is above our horizon, this 
 star, whatever course it takes, can never be out of our sight, and therefore her 
 crime be as little out of our memories. 
 
 But a more christian-like inference may be, that the polluted soul, abhorring her 
 crime, by true repentance gained a most glorious and shining aspect, besides a fixed 
 
Of Architecture, 91 
 
 station in*the heavens ; setting an example to others like Mary Magdalen, whose 
 crimes, through repentance, were not only expiated, but entirely blotted out. 
 
 The truth of this story, taking off the poetic mask, is, that Areas, son of Jupiter 
 and the nymph Calisto, taught the Arcadians (who pretended to be the most antient 
 people of the earth, nay, older than the moon, as Plutarch intimates in his 76th and 
 92d Roman questions, boasting to be sprung from the earth, and therefore made 
 great account of the oak and beech-trees and their fruit, after king Pelasgus had 
 taught them to make it their food, which before was only herbs and roots) to till the 
 ground and sow corn ; which knowledge he learned of Triptolemus, son of Ceres; 
 and afterwards to make bread of it : also, how to weave woollen cloths for covering 
 their bodies ; likewise inuring them to many civilities. In acknowledgment of which 
 benefaction, and in honour to him, they named their country Arcadia, which before 
 was called Pelasgia, as Pausanias in his Arcadia testifies. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE INWARD VIEW OF THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO. 
 
 We have before, in treating of painter-like beauty, described the outside of this 
 temple; we shall now, according to promise, shew the inside of it, keeping our 
 former method of writing, as if we had really viewed it. 
 
 Stepping into the portico, I saw over the door of the entrance a carved lyre, 
 whence I inferred that this edifice was sacred to Apollo. Going into it, I was 
 transported with the sight of all the fine things so artfully worked, and of such 
 rich materials. 
 
 In the middle stood the figure of the god on a high pedestal. At the four angles 
 of this pedestal sat the Four Seasons, each holding a horn filled with the particu- 
 lar fruits and flowers of the seasons. All these were of beautiful plain white 
 marble. The figure of Apollo was naked, crowned with laurel, and holding a 
 sceptre in its hand. 
 
 The floor was inlaid with variety of costly stones in the form of a terrestrial glohe, 
 in the centre whereof stood the aforesaid figure. 
 
 The arch- work was azure blue, but I could not certainly perceive it to be Mosaic ; 
 it was adorned with the seven planets, and other constellations, all in gold. Near 
 the windows, between the two pilasters, were niches filled with figures, each repre- 
 senting one of the months of the year : they had the form of young men, and were 
 cut in whitish marble. 
 
 N 2 
 
92 
 
 Of Architecture, 
 
 The whole building consisted also of marble, but not so fine as that of the 
 figures ; for here and there under the niches in the mouldings, and about the 
 windows, it was very veiny. In a basement running round the temple, was carved a 
 continued bass relief ; the figures of it were about four feet high, and of fine white 
 stone. The other inside division was the same as we have already described it to be 
 without; the undermost part being composed of the Ionic order, the middlemost of 
 the Romany and the upper of the Corinthian. 
 
 Over the first cornices appeared terms, instead of pilasters ; these represented the 
 hours, and with their heads supported the cupola ; they were in the shape of young 
 virgins, to the number of twenty-four. It would be tedious to describe them, and 
 their badges of distinction singly; and the rather, since Ccesa Ripa has so handsome- 
 ly done it. 
 
 Next, I took notice of the orderly disposition and proportion, which was judicious- 
 ly observed throughout the building ; for Apollo's figure was, as I guessed, eight 
 feet high, and those about him seven feet and a half ; the young men, representing 
 the months, were seven feet, and the terms for the hours, six, or six and a half. This 
 proportion not only seemed so large, but the imagined height really appeared to me 
 to be such, without abatement for distance, as seen from underneath. Reflecting 
 on this neatness, I thought it strange for people of sense, nay, great masters, to agree, 
 that a large window should come over a small one, or a giant he set above a young 
 child, and how such things should look becoming. The undermost bass reliefs 
 consist of smaller figures than those in the upper work, not without reason, for the 
 walling wherein they stand, as well as that figure-work, bear throughout the building; 
 nevertheless, he, who duly considers the matter, and such a sight, will soon alter his 
 opinion ; for since Apolloy or the sun, is the largest of all created things, and the 
 chief of the universe, observed by the heathens, by his quality among irrational 
 creatures, as the father of the four seasons, he is the largest and principal figure. 
 The four seasons, brought forth by him, are somewhat less, and the months inferior 
 to them in size, to which the hours must give way again, because twenty-four of 
 them make but one natural day. We ought also to observe, that the four seasons 
 are of a more composed countenance ; the months represent young men still grow- 
 ing, and the hours shew nimble virgins. 
 
 Is not this division very elegant, with respect to architecture, since every thing 
 keeps its relation and property? A good architect employs his thoughts about 
 all those particular objects, in the compartion of halls and apartments ; according 
 to which, a good master ought to accommodate himself in the painting of 
 buildings. 
 
 END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF FAIOTIWO. 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 OF THE PAINTING OF CEILINGS, OR PLAFONDS. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF CEILING-PAINTING IN GENERAL. 
 
 Among all the parts of painting, none is so difficult as that of ornamenting ceil- 
 ings, though many think it easy, even more easy than an upright piece on a wall or 
 over a chimney : this is owing to ignorance, and an indifference in some people 
 what their ceilings are daubed with, so as they be but quickly finished, dazzle the 
 eye, and cost little. Formerly they were contented with foliage slightly painted, 
 for saving expense, and that in places of consequence only ; whereas now, accord- 
 ing to the present state of the painters and times, they can have other things for the 
 sajine price, and the painter making no great matter of it, they lay hold of the oppor- 
 tunity, causing the whole ceiling to be filled with histories and emblems, whether 
 they be suitable or not. 
 
 We see that all things from small beginnings improve, and at last come to per- 
 fection, through the industry of judicious artists: even so it is in painting; for I 
 remember to have seen many ceilings with figures, landscapes, sea-fights, battles, 
 &c. without any fore-shortening, as if painted on an upright wall ; and others 
 which were represented from underneath more or less, and yet without fore-short- 
 ening ; as also some which fore-shortened, but had no point of sight ; whence it is 
 evident, that without regard to perspective, such pieces cannot possibly be brought 
 to the aforesaid perfection. Now, for order sake, let us examine into the name of 
 this branch. 
 
 The word (plafond) is French, and signifies a flat or level superfices, fit to be 
 
94 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Flafonds. 
 
 covered with boards or cloth, whereon to paint or plaister such representations or 
 ornaments as we think proper, consisting mostly of histories with flying figures, 
 skies with birds, flowers, and many other things ; but the true sense of the^vord 
 (plafond) imports, a ceiling of halls, apartments, temples, or galleries, even all that 
 hangs over head and is parallel with the ground. Such pieces are called optical, 
 because they must be viewed from an assigned distance, without which they un- 
 avoidably appear mis-shapen, as we shall hereafter shew. 
 
 Jn the matter itself we ought to consider the nature of a plafond, or ceiling paint- 
 ing, and wheiein it differs from a wall painting ^ as first, in the fore-shortening of 
 the objects, and secondly, in the colour; I speak with respect to the objects con- 
 tained in one and the other, such as buildings, ballustrades, figures, and other things 
 occurring in compositions ; all which, in a hanging picture, retain their perfect 
 heights and breadths, shoitening in thickness only ; whereas, in plafonds, or ceil- 
 ings, neither height, measure, nor proportion, are to be observed ; in a word, every 
 thing fore-shortens, except the basis and the cap or top ; what is round remains so, 
 and what is square keeps its angles, whether in the middle, in profile, high, or low. 
 As for the colours, they doubtless must also differ much from those of hanging pic- 
 tures, for they ought to appear more beautiful, not only in the light, but also in the 
 shades, I mean in a clear light, as we may easily apprehend. 
 
 We ought moreover to know, that by means of optics or practical perspective, we 
 can make crooked things look straight, hollow or rising ones flat and even, and cause 
 them outwardly to appear what they really are not ; as the famous F. Niceron and 
 others have plainly demonstrated. Wherefore, we need not wonder, that so few 
 painters excel in this branch of the art, since they are little conversant with the 
 practical part of perspective, though without it it is impossible to execute a good ceil- 
 ing-piece. It is certain, that many painters are rash enough to undertake such a 
 piece of work, and sometimes they happen to perform good things, (for laboriousness 
 and daily practice often contribute much) nevertheless they do not inquire, whether 
 their methods be the shortest or longest, commonly chusing that which first offers, 
 drudging without certainty, and led by mere chance. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF THE USUAL DIFFICULTIES IN CEILING PAINTING. 
 
 First, we are at a grand stand, because we cannot use the life, either in the nudi- 
 ties or flying draperies, though they be the principal objects^ 
 
95 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 Secondly, Because we cannot, without great trouble, find the true and certain 
 places of the figures we introduce ; for which reason, they must mostly be done by 
 guess. 
 
 Thirdly, Because we cannot duly view the work as long as it is on the easel. 
 Whence, 
 
 Lastly, It follows, that the master is always in pain for the effect of the painting 
 jii being fixed in its place. 
 
 These difficulties are not a little vexatious, even to one who understands his bu- 
 siness ; for it is otherwise with those who make more use of their hands than heads, 
 that is, who work without foundation, though these ought to be more careful than 
 others. Paint as many ceilings as you please, as long as you do not believe that 
 there are grounds and rules for it, and remain in this ignorance, you will never sur- 
 mount the aforesaid difliculties. The most skilful master is often at a loss in this 
 part of painting. Let us then in the first place learn perspective, and what it shews 
 us ; since thereby only we may arrive at this laudable study, which otherwise is im- 
 possible. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 OF FORE-SHORTENING OBJECTS IN CEILINGS. 
 
 It is obvious, that the distance in a common picture is the part which retires or 
 goes off from us, lessens and grows faint, and that the horizon is an utmost distance 
 limiting our sight. 
 
 Contrary, in ceilings, our distance and boundary of sight is the firmament or 
 starry sky; whereby objects, the higher they are lessen the more, even to insensi- 
 bility, not only in their proportions and neatness, but also in their colours. 
 
 Here we ought to observe, that all objects, of what shape or form soever, keep 
 their due breadth, provided they are parallel with the horizon : for instance, place 
 a square stone so as to be viewed directly against it, or a figure in the same manner. 
 (In Plate LXI. we exhibit a square body.) Here you see that the top and bottom 
 of the said stone keep their squares, and that the upper and under corners of it fall 
 perpendicularly from the point of sight ; moreover, that, however the said square is 
 turned, the top and body always make a right angle, and consequently the hinder- 
 most extremity is parallel with the foremost. It is the same with figures of other 
 objects. 
 
 Place, for instance, a man on one or other side of the piece, standing upright, and 
 
96 * 
 
 Of the 'Painting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 the point of sight in the middle ; let him be in profile, and have both his shoulders 
 of equal height, and you will then perceive that the shoulders, from one to the 
 other keep their full breadth, and their figure its full thickness from top to toe. 
 
 Thus we see evidently, that there is no other fore-shortening than in the length ; 
 or, to say better, in the height; and the more the figures, or other objects, rise 
 and approach the point of sight, the shorter and more mis-shapen they become ; 
 because in their breadth they retain their measure and proportion, as before has been 
 said. This is a principal rule, and ought always to be observed. 
 
 As for buildings, A Basse gives full precepts touching them, in the latter part 
 of his book of Perspective ; yet I have room to say, that when we would place co- 
 lumns over columns for galleries, we ought to draw a rising line through their cen- 
 tres, from the basis or ground to the point of sight, even through each balister, and 
 find the due proportion of their heights as well as the breadths, by the help of a 
 gradation line. 
 
 This, with respect to proportion, must likewise be observed in designing figures 
 and other objects, as I shall hereafter shew by examples. 
 
 This sort of painting is not only the most artful, but also the most difficult, as 
 I have before said ; because, although we understand the rules and practice of it, 
 it appears nevertheless disagreeable and deformed ; which no one can be a judge 
 of but the master himself, unless it be put up in its proper place, and seen at 
 the due distance. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 or THE SIZES OF CEILING FIGURES. 
 
 The figures which we paint in ceilings otight not to exceed the common size of 
 a man, to wit, five feet and a half, when they are so low as to be even with the 
 ceiling ; but, being higher, and sitting on clouds, or flying, they must lessen and go 
 oflf, as perspective teaches. Yet we may represent the deities as big as we please, 
 provided they be not painted with more strength than other figures; it even some- 
 times happens, that when they almost vanish out of sight, they have yet human 
 size. 
 
 Sun-shine is the most proper and agreeable in spiritual representations. 
 
 As for the glory of each deity in particular, they keep it when they appear to 
 men, but when they are represented in heaven it is a mixture of many smaller, 
 producing one great shining. To do this artfully is not a matter of the least 
 
97 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 oonsequence ; and he is a great master, who, instead of dark, thick, and heavy 
 clouds like wool-sacks, places his figures on thin, transparent, and almost insen- 
 sible vapours. 
 
 It will not be improper, in this chapter, to mention something of flying figures in 
 the air. 
 
 Though the air be seldom without a wind, and this may always be somewhat 
 perceived, it is nevertheless not adviseable to make it appear in ceilings; because, 
 if the wind were stirring, the figures flying before it would seem to be motionless ; 
 and contrarily, those which are sitting or standing shew as much violence as the 
 flying ones: for this reason no wind must come into the piece but what the velocity 
 of each figure causes, that we may plainly see by what motion the draperies are 
 thrown, as also the places the figures are going to or returning from, one gently 
 waving, and the other nimble and swift. 
 
 The different stuffs are very proper to this on such occasions, and they very much 
 conduce to express the matter ; as the reflection of ruffling silks for waving figures, 
 and which are gently descending, thin and sleazy silk for swift and down-flying 
 figures, and the most plianf or thick silk or stuff for sitting, lying, or standing ones. 
 The secret and importance of a fine stirring ceiling piece lies chiefly herein. 
 
 As for the making of the coloured stuffs of flying figures, because they cannot be 
 put on the layman, and therefore not painted after the life, we cannot lay down any 
 rules about them; nothing but a good conception and natural judgment, joined to 
 continual practice and observation, can bring the artist to perform it. We must use 
 these means, and be perfect in them ; observing what stuff is most proper to the oc- 
 casion, as we have before intimated. 
 
 We ought also to take care that the thin stuffs be warm and transparent against 
 the light, whereby they cause an agreeable effect against the faint sky ; likewise that 
 the flying figures never seem to be upright, as if standing, much less to be standing ; 
 but always sitting, kneeling, lying, or flying, unless in the case of people supposed 
 to be on ceilings or galleries, who then are either standing, stooping, or kneeling, as 
 the subject requires. 
 
 Let me say, that we ought sometimes to make some additions to the disposition of 
 the general and particular objects ; but with as much caution as possible, that the 
 inability of the artist, and the deficiency of the work, may not appear. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 o 
 
98 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Tlafonds, 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 METHOD FOR VIEWING A CEILING-PIECE ON THE EASEL, AS IP ON 
 
 THE CEILING. 
 
 We have already observed the difficulties arising in ceilings, with respect to the 
 use of the life, and in laying down rules subservient to it. Now, had I my sight I 
 should certainly find out some ; but, since this is impracticable without figural de- 
 monstration, and I cannot possibly verbally do it, I shall nevertheless shew some me- 
 thods, which, though they may seem trifling, have always been of service to me, and 
 of little trouble in their use. 
 
 After sketching my design upon paper, I fixed it against a low ceiling; then, tak- 
 ing a looking glass and sitting under it, I with ease exactly considered every thing, 
 observing what was wanting in it, and thus I marked and corrected faults as much 
 as I possibly could. Next, I drew each figure, whether naked or clothed, after the 
 life, in such manner as shall hereafter be shewn. Then I dead-coloured my piece 
 with such light as I thought proper. After this I took the looking glass again, and 
 held it over my head, in order to view commodiously the piece standing behind me, 
 inclining a little backwards on the easel as if it were against the ceiling, and casting 
 my eyes every where, first on the general design and then on the particular parts ; 
 this examen I repeated, till, by several corrections, I found that I had brought the 
 piece to my fancy. Here be mindful not to take too near a distance, to the end the 
 glass may take in the whole piece ; for which reason I sometimes got with the looking 
 glass on a chair or table, and having my pallet and pencils in readiness, and brought 
 my piece into such forwardness, I finished it without further looking back. 
 
 I will now, for the service of those who may find it useful and necessary, also 
 treat, 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 OF DESIGNING AFTER THE LIFE, FOR THE USE OF CEILING 
 
 PAINTERS. 
 
 W E must not flatter ourselves, that ceiling painting can be performed without good 
 knowledge in proportion, since, as has been said, we cannot conveniently make use 
 of the life ; for, how great soever your skill may be, you will find difficulty enough, 
 though the life were before you, to bring it on the cloth. Nevertheless, to shew that 
 
Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Tlafonch. 90 
 
 it may be done, and that I have often used the life, I shall, for the service of those 
 who are not sparing of pains, lay down my manner of doing it. 
 
 After I had set the model, whether of man or woman, on a high place, according 
 to my sketch, I sat down on the floor with my back against the scaffold, with a look- 
 ing-glass between my legs, Avhich I moved and turned about so long, till the model 
 appeared in it in such a manner as I wanted according to my point of sight ; and 
 then designing it on drawing paper as correct as possible, I painted after this design 
 without any trouble. 
 
 As for the dresses I managed them in the same manner, casting the garment on 
 the layman according to my sketch ; 1 mean without flying, wdiichis a thing impos- 
 sible, and depends only on imagination. I then placed the layman, thus dressed, 
 on a high tressel, and sat down against it in the manner aforesaid, and made a de- 
 sign of the dress : if it was a flying or lying figure I made shift with packthread, 
 wires, or such like means, as well as I could, sparing for no trouble, when the mat- 
 ter was important, and I had a mind to do something fine. 
 
 I used the same method in designing after all sorts of plasters, as faces, vases, 
 urns, ornaments, capitals, festoons of flowers, &c. in order to have them from un- 
 derneath. Thus I mastered the greatest difficulties occurring in this study. How- 
 ever, I did not this before my cloth was in readiness for it, that I might not mistake ; 
 since, notwithstanding all our care in some things, especially upright standing 
 objects, we may easily be deceived. 
 
 As to the preparation of the cloths for our design, as likewise the dead-colouring, 
 in order to finish, and thereby refresh our memories, I shall now treat of them. 
 
 First, I fix the point of sight either wdthin or without the piece, as my place of 
 standing directs ; then I strike with a chalked thread, from the said point, as many 
 lines over my piece as I find necessary to serve all my upright standing objects, viz. 
 balusters, columns, pilasters, figures, &c. which I suppose to be perpendicular : I 
 also strike some diagonals, or slope lines, from that side of the piece whence the 
 light comes, either right or left, parallel and equidistant from each other. These 
 put me in mind how high or low the light falls on my objects : if they run parallel 
 with the base, the objects are lighted entirely from the side ; if oblique or sloping, 
 as before is said, they lighten a little fronting ; and if they fall from on high from 
 the point of sight, the light comes directly fronting, as is visible in the examples. 
 Numb. 1, 2, 3, in Plate LXII. 
 
 I think myself obliged here to propose to the artist a small practice of my own 
 invention ; and, in my opinion, of little trouble, but certain great advantage to 
 ceiling painters ; since we find that, although there are certain rules, yet they can- 
 not be put in use without the greatest trouble, application, and loss of time, unless 
 
 o 2 
 
100 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 aided, by some practice or other, or by some artful instriimeiit ^ like astronoruy, ’ 
 which, how demonstrative soever, has its globe and astrolabe ; architecture, its 
 plan and level ; geometry, the oval, triangle, square and compasses ; mathematics, 
 algebra, &c. But to return to my invention. 
 
 I first mould some wax puppets, as we have shewn in the 6th Chapter on Compo- 
 sition, as large and as many as I think proper; next I take as many pointed wires, 
 some long, others short, whereon to stick the puppets, and keep them from bend- 
 ing, whether they be made standing, lying, flying, or sitting : this being done I take 
 an oblong wooden trough, lined with tin, of what size I think proper, and three or 
 four fingers deep, for the placing as many puppets as I please. Into the corners I 
 put some pins or screws to fasten a cover of wood, or tin fitting the trough, and 
 made full of little holes wherein to stick the aforesaid wired puppets, and so as 
 they may turn easily : then I fill the trough with clay or kneaded bran, and thus my 
 machine is in readiness. Now when I make use of it I stick my puppets, bent and 
 turned according to my design, on the wires, and through the holes into the clay 
 where I would have them, one high, another low, one stooping forwards, another 
 leaning back, &c. as the subject requires, which will then stand immoveable. 
 
 My scheme being in this forwardness I lean the whole machine back on a table, 
 be the light left or right, and then slightly design the figures in the manner I have 
 shewed with the lines. I can give the machine such a light as I desire, either from 
 aside, fronting, or from on high, a common, sun-shine, or candle-light. 
 
 Now for perfecting this sketch and conveniently painting after it, I set my lay- 
 man, with such a dress as each figure requires, in the manner before laid down ; and 
 then, my cloth being ready, I proceed to painting. 
 
 I invented this machine in the year 1668, and put it in use for about five years 
 with great advantage, and with such exact reflection, that I afterwards had no fur- 
 ther occasion for it, though I never used more than three, or at most four puppets. 
 
 Now the curious artist must also know what observations I made in the use of 
 the machine. 
 
 First, as Plate LXIII. shews, I put one puppet coming directly down, quite ex- 
 tended, namely, with the head and feet both on a line, and then observed that there 
 was not the least fore-shortening, all the parts having their full lengths. 
 
 A second puppet I set upright, standing in profile on one side of the point of 
 sight, and found it fore-shortened in all its parts. 
 
 A third I set flying upwards from behind forwards, and perceived that the mem- 
 bers fore-shortened somewhat more than those of the first, and somewhat less than 
 those of the second. 
 
 A fourth I placed sitting with its upper parts upright, the thighs parallel, and 
 
101 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 the legs like the upper parts, and observed, that when it was quite in profile, the 
 upper parts and legs fore-shortened, and the thigh kept its full length, as it also did 
 when in a front position. 
 
 Having made a firm impression of these things in my thoughts, I had no farther 
 occasion for that method. 
 
 We shall now say something 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 OF THE COLOURING OF FLYING FIGURES. 
 
 IIerein we must observe, that in ceiling-painting it is the same as in landscapes: 
 First, we rub in the greatest light of the sky, then all parts about it ; next the high- 
 est and most faint objects, and then the lower and more near ones ; and in case a 
 balustrade be represented, it must be the last : the reason of this I have shewn in 
 treating of the dead-colouring of histories and landscapes. 
 
 Moreover, as in a fine landscape the sky principally governs all things, and with- 
 out it no proper distance can be given to the picture, so it is the same in a ceiling- 
 piece with figures flying through the air ; for it is impossible to make objects rise, 
 unless they have some communication with the air. Nor is it enough for objects 
 going off higher and further from us, to be painted fainter and fainter, as in a draw- 
 ing or print, but the colour must also be shewn, and as the air is coloured so must 
 the objects partake of it, I mean in their shades ; for if the air be blue, yellow, or 
 red, the shades ought likewise to have a mixture of blue, yellow, or red. 
 
 As to the light of the objects, we must observe that, of what colour soever it be, 
 it breaks and grows darker as it goes off; even were the air, as I may say, snow- 
 white, it breaks by distance or air interposing; the red becomes violet, the yellow 
 greenish, and the violet blue : as the objects go off from us and approach the air 
 they are darkened ; white becomes darker, pale yellow the same, and so on in other 
 colours. 
 
 Something still remains to be remarked with respect to objects in the air, viz. 
 that since the air communicates light from all parts, the broad shades cannot pos- 
 sibly be so dark as in a landscape or other parts ; but contrarily, the dark touches 
 will be so much the stronger : all that is in shade ought to be lighter and seen more 
 plain, yet somewhat less than in the light. It must be likewise known, that round 
 objects have no surface, especially on the shaded side ; that is to say, the outline 
 against the sky ought to unite and vanish, not quite scrambled away, but made 
 
102 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 somewhat lighter on the edge, as we have clearly demonstrated by the example of 
 a globular body, Book I. Chap. VI. ; implying, that such works in the air differ from 
 others, to wit, that the objects against the sky are more rounding and going off. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS IN PAINTING THE CEILINGS OF 
 HALLS, GALLERIES, &C. 
 
 The first and principal observation on these occasions is, that the quality and re- 
 gularity of the architecture be firmly preserved in all its parts. 
 
 The second observation concerns the grandeur of the architecture, as being the 
 main matter. Painting in this case is only to be considered as an aid, to accom- 
 plish it with less charges ; wherefore such care must be taken, that the painter’s de- 
 signs do not mar those of the architect, but that both unite in such a manner as to 
 induce the eye to take every thing for truth itself. 
 
 By the first observation, that the architecture ought to preserve its regularity, we 
 give to understand, that the structure of the room must chiefly be regarded by the 
 painter in his ceiling pieces, so as not to be hurt by making openings where they 
 ought not to be ; for it is not allowable to make them every where as large or small 
 as we please : the ceiling must remain ceiling. All that is without the painting, as 
 the summers, ought to have their proper thicknesses, and be lasting, and not seem 
 as tumbling, which yet through heedlessness sometimes is the case. For instance, 
 let us suppose the ceiling divided into three pannels lined with cloth ; one next to 
 the windows, the second in the middle over the chimney, and the third to be next 
 the wall ; that in tlie middle is between two summers one foot in, and the two side 
 ones lie almost flush with the under parts of those summers. Now if the two side 
 cloths be, like the middle one, adorned with sky, and the thickness of the summer 
 (which is one foot) not painted on the cloth, the ceiling on those sides is so much 
 weakened, or at least seems to be so, and is heavier in the middle, contrary to ar- 
 chitecture: whereas to make it look natural, and according to order, the ponde- 
 rosity must in this case be on the sides, and the middle part lightest, that it may 
 not seem to be falling on our heads. Moreover, we ought to observe, that there 
 must be but one opening, and that in the middle, since there is but one point of 
 sight and but one place of standing to view the work to advantage. As for paint- 
 ing the thickness of the summer, I only said it to rectify a mistake often committed 
 when a ceiling is made all over open, and, instead of a covering, nothing is left but 
 
103 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 a grate which cannot he justified. Some think it may pass for a lantern, but they 
 are mistaken, for a lantern rises, and a ceiling lies flat ; moreover, the whole ceiling 
 cannot serve for a lantern, because of the windows in front. The principal or middle 
 piece must predominate, and of consequence be open, and the others closed ; I mean 
 not to have any sky or living creatures, but bass-reliefs, foliage, compartments or 
 flowers, all of such a colour as suits with the apartment. This I judge to be the 
 first and principal care and study of a good ceiling painter, before he sets about 
 the work ; for in the division of a ceiling it is as with a diamond, the largest and 
 most valuable is set in the middle, and round it the less and less. 
 
 As to the second observation, that the art of painting is aiding to architecture, 
 and enriches it at less expense, the point is plain; wherefore I shall proceed to shew 
 the reason why the one may spoil the other. 
 
 In painting divisions, it often happens that the summers have not proper rests 
 to lie on, especially when the ceiling is covered all over (and the summers hid') 
 wuth a single cloth, and left to the judgment of an ignorant painter, who then with- 
 out consideration, divides it into three, four, six, eight, or more pannels, and these 
 parted by painted summers, which do not bear on any thing. Now to prevent this 
 you must let each summer rest on a discharger, pilaster, or cartouche, as architec- 
 ture teaches : for instance, were you to divide the two pannels next the windows, 
 and wall each into two parts, in order to have four pannels, this would be improper 
 and against architecture, because of the flatness over the window, unless it were 
 compass-headed, and then it would not do without a cartouche. 
 
 If it it be asked, whether the division be a painter’s business? I say, it is, so far 
 as he understands architecture, otherwise more proper for an architect; at least, it 
 may be easily done with his assistance. 
 
 As to the work, where the painting may disorder or be contrary to architecture, 
 it lies in the designs, when they do not suit the building, nor perfectly bear on 
 foundations, or have their proper weight. By the foundation of the painting, I 
 mean the apartment; and by the weight of the design, that what the painter in- 
 tends to exhibit in his ceiling piece be not too heavy, and seem to press down the 
 under parts. The better to clear my meaning, I will suppose a room to be twenty 
 feet square : now if a second depth, or upper room, were to be represented, the 
 piers, columns, doors, and windows thereof must needs accord with those of the 
 under room and bear upon them ; and, in the next place, the course of orders ought 
 exactly to be observed, as architecture teaches, that is to say, the heaviest must be 
 undermost : first the Tuscan^ next the Doric, then the Ionic, next the Roman, and 
 lastly, the Corinthian, and so upwards lighter and lighter, which I think is seldom 
 obsei'ved ; and the reason is, because the figures are sometimes represented larger 
 
104 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 than tlie life, which necessitates the artist to proportion his by-works accordingly : 
 an unpardonable error, and not at any rate to be justified. But I shall say more of 
 this on another occasion, and now pursue our purpose in ceilings. A principal 
 point is that the work rise, and that its force unite with the life ; that is, that the 
 objects in the lower parts be not painted stronger than the fixed work, as compart- 
 ments, bass-reliefs, and other ornaments, which, not being foreshortened, receive 
 their light through the windows. Now it may be asked, whether, in case we were 
 to represent an apartment above with the same light as below, the force of light 
 and shade must not be the same ? And I say it ought not, because of the great dif- 
 ference between them ; as we may easily suppose in two columns set over each 
 other, receiving their light from one front, the one from the undermost, and the 
 other from the uppermost windows : here the upper base must have no more force 
 than the under capital, for were it otherwise it would seem to be nearer ; it would 
 also not rise, and consequently overpower the life. It is here, as in a fine landscape, 
 where the fore-ground has the greatest force, and the second and third are less and 
 fainter in proportion as they go off. It is the same with flying figures ; for the light 
 w'eakens by their rising, and the shades become, as well as in a room by the sur- 
 rounding air, weaker and fainter ; but the touches and shades keep their force. 
 
 We have observed what is necessary to the stability and regularity of the architec- 
 ture with respect to painting, so that both may seem to be one body ; as we shall 
 exemplify by the following fable out of Ovid, proposed here as a painter-like 
 simile. 
 
 Sahnacis and Hermaphroditus, two accomplished and agreeable young people, I 
 introduce, representing Architecture and Painting. Sahnacis meeting Hermaphro- 
 ditus, and imagining her happiness lay in the possession of so beautiful an object, 
 falls in love with him ; but finding a repulse, she invokes the aid of the gods, and 
 thereby obtains her earnest suit. The young man, not daring to resist the will of 
 heaven, gives up the cause, and is by Mercury (whom we must observe here to be 
 Optics), joined to her, and thus of two bodies is made one. Further applications 
 are needless, since the simile sufficiently explains itself. 
 
 Now, to continue our subject, the following observations are, at the beginning of 
 the work, chiefly necessary. 
 
 First, The condition of the place. 
 
 Secondly, The quality, office, and inclination of the owner, and what subjects are 
 proper thereto, wlietlier histories, fables, &c. 
 
 Thirdly, The disposition of the subjects. 
 
 Fourthly, How the subject is to be divided. 
 
 First, By the condition of the place I mean the light of the room, and in what 
 
Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Tlafonds. 105 
 
 manner it takes the ceiling ; also into how many pannels the architect has divided 
 the ceiling, and which is the principal, that we may adapt oiir thoughts thereto in 
 the disposition of the representations, as well as in the execution of them. 
 
 Secondly, By the quality, &c. of the owner, we must understand whether he be 
 a divine or lawyer, philosopher or artisan, and whether he incline to spiritual or 
 moral, general or particular representations; that is, such as relate to him or 
 his family in particular, or generally to any one who may live in the house after 
 his decease ; according to which information we ought to choose subjects suitable. 
 
 Thirdly, How the subjects ought to be disposed ; namely, what must be placed 
 above in the air, wherein, as is said, lies the soul of a room-painting, and what below, 
 as touching the body of it : this we divide into spiritual and moral ; spiritual, all 
 that is governed by heaven ; and moral, every thing that is directed by our judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Fourthly, How the subject is to be divided. Here the principal piece in the mid^ 
 die must shew either the cause or rise of the story, or the effect of it ; the next to it 
 must exhibit the matter itself ; and that further off, an appendix to or inference from 
 it. But to make this point plainer, I shall give an example. 
 
 In the middle pannel I place Solomon^ before the Ark of the Covenant, praying 
 to God for wisdom, and on each side I represent, surrounded with a glory, the gifts 
 which God bestows on him, as wisdom and riches flowing down ; and in the lesser 
 pannels I exhibit, in bass-relief, the corporeal virtues. On this ground we may treat 
 any thing or subject whatsoever ; and by having due regard to the aforesaid four 
 particulars, and well executing them, such a representation will certainly please 
 every one, even envy itself. 
 
 Hence we may sufficiently perceive how orderly we must manage ; wherefore it is 
 no wonder that so few excel in ceiling painting, though it has rules as well as other 
 studies ; but, if these be not duly observed, we cannot gain the point. He that sets 
 up for a good master, must shew that he understands his art. 
 
 If I am asked, whether I think Corregio, Cortona, Vovet, and others, who per- 
 formed wonders in this branch, have always so punctually followed the rules, and 
 so nicely regarded all the observations here laid down, according to my apprehen- 
 sion ? I answer, that it would have been better if they had done it ; or else what I 
 say must, as I have shewed in a foregoing chapter, be owing to the machine with 
 puppets, which I made use of for four or five years, and afterwards laid aside ; for 
 we ought first to have a thorough knowledge of a thing, and then demonstrate it. 
 But I am further of opinion, that had the great masters perfectly known the pre- 
 scribed rules, we should not find such great mistakes in their works, as some now 
 think there are. Nevertheless, it is most certain, that none are qualified for this 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 p 
 
106 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 judgment, but those who have made it their practice ; for he who understands the 
 rules, and retains them in memory, can ;dways judge whether they be observed or 
 not, though not able to do it himself; yet they who work only by guess, and know 
 nothing of grounds and rules, are more unpardonable than those who are ac- 
 quainted with them and do not use them ; though both blameworthy, the one for 
 his neglect of learning, and the other for his knowledge and neglect of using it. 
 
 I am very sensible that some will make little account of many things, by me de- 
 livered as necessary ; but I am in no pain for that, if I can but give satisfaction to a 
 curious reader. 
 
 I must own, that in my juvenile years I daubed some ceilings, but never flat- 
 tered myself that I understood the art so as I ought, because I was then ignorant 
 that there were any certain grounds and rules ; nevertheless I afterwards attained 
 them, by sometimes hearing others discourse about them, and by the rules of 
 perspective, and by my own indefatigable applicat: to so noble a study; inso- 
 
 much, that at last I could sketch a large and grand composition with more certainty 
 and less trouble than formerly a little one. I must, on this occasion, relate what 
 course I took. 
 
 I had in my room a small projecting closet, and when I was to compose a picture, 
 1 pinned my paper against the upper part of it ; and, having a candle in one hand, 
 and a crayon in the other, 1 laid myself on my back, and scratched my thoughts on 
 the paper. This I found to be a good method for preventing mistakes, I mean in 
 the sketch. Now for the painting it, I also did it against the ceiling, yet not after 
 such a slight scratch ; for, having made my sketch, I took out of the prints of Vovet 
 and others, such actions and postures as were proper ; altering them either in the 
 faces, hands, or folds of draperies, more or less, by guess, as well as I could. Thus 
 I made shift, yet all was done against the ceiling ; whereby you may judge what 
 trouble I had, as well in finding things as afterwards in executing them, which really 
 was double work ; but when better informed, I sat commodiously at my easel. He 
 who proceeds with certainty has a great advantage above others. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 METHOD FOR DRAWING FORE-SHORTENED BUILDINGS, FIGURES, 
 
 TREES, &C. AFTER THE LIFE. 
 
 Since it commonly happens, on nature’s denying her favourable assistance, that 
 we have recourse to our wits for means to supply the defect ; it was even my case in 
 
107 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Flafonds. 
 
 deling painting. After having given myself much trouble to no purpose, and taken 
 useless pains in order to design every thing after the life, I at last found out the fol- 
 lowing method, which has made me full amends. It is very profitable in all places 
 with low horizons, as you ^ill perceive in the use. 
 
 I suppose then, for instance, that I am to make a design of the Stadt-hoiise at 
 Amsterdam (it is no matter if it were thrice its present height), and this without look- 
 ing up. I choose a station or distance of eight feet, more or less, from the building, 
 as occasion requires. Then I take a convex looking glass of about a foot diameter 
 (to be bought at the Nuremberg toy-shops), and place it against the inside of my 
 drawing-board or port-folio : I contrive it in such a manner, that it may either stand 
 upright or leaning back, according as I would see things either from beneath or 
 higher. Thus I approach with the open port-folio, and my back towards the object, 
 till the building, tree, &c. appear as I would have it, and then design it from the look- 
 ing-glass on blue or white paper. 
 
 This method is very convenient for drawing all sorts of large works in nar- 
 row places or streets, even a view of twenty or thirty houses. It is also useful to 
 landscape painters in their country views ; they may take whole tracts of land, 
 with towns and villages, waters, woods, hills, and sea, from east to west, without 
 moving eithOr head or eyes : it is likewise proper for those who are ignorant of 
 perspective. 
 
 We must here also shew a method for representing all sorts of fore-shortened flat- 
 faced compositions, whether pictures, hangings, or bas-reliefs, against walls, ceil- 
 ings, or any where else ; either standing, hanging, or lying, and that with certainty, 
 according to perspective. These are things which painters often meet with in 
 exhibiting rooms, galleries, gardens, and other places ; and the method for doing it, 
 though not attended with difficulty, yet sometimes puzzles those who neglect it. 
 
 I have therefore chosen the example in Plate LXIV. which is the foundation of 
 all fore-shortenings, as well of apartments as ceilings, and the performance is as 
 follows : — Having made the scheme of a room in perspective, I divide the height and 
 width of the side wall (where I would have hangings or representations of pictures) 
 into a certain number of diminishing feet, fetching the cross lines from the point of 
 sight, and the perpendiculars from the plan or scale. 
 
 Now in this example we perceive four principal fore-shortenings; for A is the ceil- 
 ing, B a side wall, C the floor, D a loose picture hanging forwards ; all four pro- 
 ceeding, after one and the same manner, from the point of sight, as the middle part 
 E, shews, which is divided into squares. To say more would be useless, and tedious 
 to those who are in the least conversant with this art. 
 
 p 2 
 
108 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 OF THE HARMONY AND UNION OF COLOURS IN CEILING PIECES. 
 
 Although in the chapter touching the deities, and their qualities, we shall treat 
 of the colours proper to them, we must, on this occasion, say something previous, 
 and shew how the colours ought to be placed and treated, in order to create a per- 
 fect harmony. 
 
 You must not herein, by any means, be known by flaring, strong, and glittering 
 colours. I am of opinion that, on this occasion, nothing suits better than the union 
 of the colours; because it is agreeable to the eye, causes a line relief, and contains 
 something uncommon, even supernatural. And when I pretend here, that in ceil- 
 ing pieces you ought to use tender and weak colours (even were they mostly fetch- 
 ed from white) I do not contradict my assertion in a former chapter, to wit, that 
 particular colours are assigned to the deities, according to the nature and meaning 
 of each, as red, purple, yellow, blue, green, &c. and even to be known by them, 
 without their usual tokens of distinction, as Phcehus with the sun, Diana with the 
 moon. Mercury with his caduceus, Cet'es with her ears of corn, Jupiter with the 
 eagle, Juno with the peacock, Momus with his fool’s cap and bauble, &c. They 
 who can give their pieces such an expression are principally commendable, and the 
 painting must look well. Nevertheless, I do not hereby confine the lightness and 
 darkness of the colours, whether they differ little or much from each other, or 
 whether they ought to be almost all white, or light ; since the colours may be beau- 
 tiful, be they ever so light. Even were a ceiling piece to consist only of white and 
 black, light and shade, it would h.ave no less decorum, nor be less valuable. I 
 think it, in this case, to be much like a print, which, though consisting only of 
 white and black, has yet its harmony and decorum, when light and shade are well 
 disposed against each other ; and still more with the addition of proper colours, and 
 those thinly and transparently managed, whereby it gets the property of a picture. 
 
 As the principal goodness of a ceiling piece lies in an artful disposition of the 
 figures above each other, so it is of no less consequence that the colours be well 
 adapted thereto. 
 
 I will now give an instance in two pieces, differing from each other in light and 
 ^ shade. The one has three, and the other two depths. The former has its under- 
 most depth strongly set off in colour against the second, which is a little dark, and 
 the third is light against the dark blue of the sky. In the latter (which I think the 
 
109 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 best, on account of decorum) the uppermost group is dark against a ligbtblue sky, 
 and the undermost, by the force of light, set ofl’ against the uppermost. Even were 
 we thus to dispose three or more grounds or groups over each other, it would look 
 very decorous ; and each deity would, nevertheless, keep its proper colours, yet 
 less in force, in proportion to the distance ; for when the uppermost group is set off 
 against the ligiit sky, it causes a wonderful go-off, and the reason proceedsfrom the 
 sky’s seeming to be infinitely higher, which contrariwise cannot be efi’ected. 
 
 If it be objected, that supposing one of the principal figures in the uppermost 
 group, ought, according to its dignity, and the reasons laid down in the suiting of 
 colours, to have a white dress, and therefore the aforesaid position will be over- 
 thrown ; I deny it ; for it will be helped by disposing some dark clouds behind^ 
 which will preserve that garment in its force, and make it have a pleasing harmony 
 with the rest of the work. In the disposition of objects, over, near, and behind 
 each other, we have more largely treated on this point, and shewed its truth and 
 decorum : for dark against light cannot advance with so much force as the light 
 may against the dark, because the light has greater strength in itself. However, to 
 put an end to a point of so great latitude, which by discourse cannot be fully de- 
 monstrated, I shall conclude it with the great who, in his third book of the 
 Art of Painting, says — 
 
 “ Thus we see that artists, in their works, create shades or depths, to the end 
 that the parts to come out may approach with more force, and seem to meet the eye 
 of the beholder, even without the picture. Let two parallel lines, says Longinus,"*^ 
 be drawn upon a cloth, with light and dark colours ; the brightness of the light will 
 soonest strike the eye, and seem to be nearest.” And a little further, quoting 
 Johannes Grammaticus, he says,t “ If we paint a board with white and black, the 
 white will always seem to be nearer, and the black further off. Therefore,” con- 
 tinues the same author, in his observation on this point, “ the painters also make 
 use of blackish or darkish-brown colours, when they are to represent the deep hol- 
 low of a well, cistern, ditch, bottomless pit, or the like. But when, on the contrary, 
 they will make any thing come out, as the breasts of a woman, a hand held out, or 
 the feet of a leaping or running horse, they lay on both the sides a suflficient shade of 
 black and brown colours, in order that these parts may, by the neighbouring dark- 
 ness, be thrown off from the picture with a lively force.” 
 
 * De Suhlim. Oral. 15. 
 
 t In Lib, 1. Meteorol. Arist. 
 
110 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 OF THE DEITIES IN SACRED AND PROFANE HISTORY^ AND FABLES; 
 AND, FIRST, OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A SACRED AND PRO- 
 FANE REPRESENTATION. 
 
 Having done with treating of ceiling pieces, I thought it improper to end this book, 
 and make a new one of the following chapters ; because the matter has such a con- 
 nexion, that we can scarce think of the one, without falling presently on the other. 
 
 It is certain, that in common pictures the deities, ghosts, demi-gods, angels, vir- 
 tues, and other powers may likewise be introduced, nay, are even inseparable ad- 
 juncts ; but into ceiling pieces, where the upper part is the sky, they must of necessity 
 come; because the major part of such representations relate either to their persons, 
 qualities, or virtues. 
 
 Now, duly to execute this representation of the deities, the artist ought chiefly to 
 be acquainted with the sacred and profane stories, as well as with the poetical fic- 
 tions, that he may learn from them the particular occurrences and properties peculiar 
 to each person and rank of the deities or upper powers, and represent them accord- 
 ingly ; for although imagination must, in this point, lend great assistance, yet it is 
 not safe for every man to rely entirely thereon, lest he should be deceived ; like the 
 man, whose neighbour dreaming that in a certain place was hidden great treasure, 
 and awaking and going thither found it by digging, and carried it home ; he, on this 
 good luck, laid himself down on a heap of poppies, in hopes of the same happiness, 
 but, after a long sleep, he awaked without any advantageous intimation from his 
 dream ; contrarily, found his pocket picked, and thus at once was bereft of his hopes 
 and the money he before had in possession. This simile is too plain to need nearer 
 application. 
 
 A judicious master must certainly be well exercised in the knowledge of the true 
 conditions of the things he is to manage, that he may not be thought an ignorant ; for 
 the truth cannot be concealed with respect to the inventor. Wherefore you ought 
 to take heed of mixing this truth with false things, especially in sacred stories, or 
 spiritual representations ; since there is so great a contrariety between them, that 
 they cannot be joined, unless to shew the disagreement: I say, they cannot possibly 
 be joined in order to express a single meaning, but will rather serve to confound, 
 weaken, and mistake it; except they be separately disposed, the spiritual above, in 
 heaven, and the worldly below, on the earth. I speak with respect to emblems ; 
 for there is a great disparity between Pallas and the Wisdom of God, since the lat- 
 
Ill 
 
 Of the Pamting of CeilmgSf or Plafonds. 
 
 ter cannot be attributed to any person, and much less represented on the earth. 
 The same may be said of Janus and Vrovidence, The heavenly and civil justice 
 are also very unlike. We must therefore note, that the whole Iconology, or science 
 of the heathenish figures, though formerly accounted heavenly, has now no relation 
 to the soul, but to the moral virtues and merits of men. 
 
 Let us then inquire, with reverence, what are Cliristian emblems, and what pro- 
 fane or heathenish ; using in spiritual representations nothing but what is pure and 
 heavenly, and in the worldly, all that is proper to them, in order to gain the esteem 
 both of religious and worldly persons. 
 
 h passage in Scripture mentions the driving Lucifer and his companions out of 
 heaven ; whence we may plainly conclude, that those monsters afterwards fell to the 
 share of the heathen, as no longer pertaining to the saints. But w^e do not find after 
 that time, any more such unruly spirits were expelled heaven, wherefore we are not 
 allowed to represent more such instances. But in the case of men seen to battle the 
 true faith, things may be accompanied and represented with heathenish emblems, be- 
 cause, as is said, the heathens gave themselves up to the devil; the better by that 
 means to express their error and shew the truth, thus also driving them out of heaven. 
 
 It is, upon occasion, likewise not improper or disagreeing with the pharisees or hy- 
 pocrites; but has a greater \veight in fictitious stories or parables. Nor can we, 
 without otTence, introduce other emblems than Christian-like, when they only tend 
 to incite to salvation. In w hich case we may represent angels or spirits, to keep those 
 hypocriteis out of heaven. 
 
 In true profane histories, as the Roman, Grecian, and others, this management 
 would be improper, but we may lawfully use hieroglyphic and other characters, of 
 which there is an infinity ; for instance, by a religious person, a white garment, or an 
 offering cup ; by a cruel one, a tigers skin, or dragon, either on his helmet or shield. 
 It would be preposterous to place a vestal virgin by Numa Pornpilius, in order to 
 shew his religious character, or A-chilles by Alexarider to express his valour, or a 
 Hercules by Milo; and still more ridiculous to set a Hercules by Hercules to pour- 
 tray strength, or a fool by Momus to exhibit folly. It would, I say, be very ridi- 
 culous to explain Ovid by emblems, seeing he gives us nothing but emblems. This 
 would be a seeking light with light, or enlightening darkness with dark clouds. We 
 want not another sun for expressing the sun’s light. But these representations and 
 by-works must only tend to the exhibiting invisible things by visible objects. 
 
 The more noble and lofty the things w'e are to represent, the more valuable ought 
 to be the emblems v\^e chuse for them ; for instance, in expressing the nature and 
 quality of the deities, we use young and chaste virginity, a state in all ages account- 
 ed the most rare and valuable ; but in representing the passions of men, we make 
 
112 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 use of beasts, or else inanimate characters and objects ; for being of a lower rank 
 than the deities, they must also bear lesser objects. 
 
 If now it should be objected, because I represent Eternity by a serpent, and the 
 Purity of the deities by a lamb, that this is contradictory to my own position ; I be- 
 lieve, with respect to the former, that any person will be of my mind, on a; fair consul- 
 tation of the most ancient heathenish representation ofit; and, as to the latter. Scrip- 
 ture and chiefly the Revelation of St. John, in many passages exhibits the person of 
 Christ in the form of a lamb, and as the Lamb of God. Now, since all this has a hi- 
 eroglyphic meaning, why should not I be allowed to fetch my emblematical thoughts 
 from so pure and rich a fountain of wisdom? Thus I deport myself with respect to 
 other such objects which represent some quality of the deity ; but those of later in- 
 vention, 1 endeavour, in this case, to avoid as much as possible. 
 
 Moreover, Scripture, in many places, delivers itself in hieroglyphic terms ; com- 
 paring Anger to a bear bereft of its cubs. Meekness to a lamb, Innocence to a dove, 
 Subtilty to a serpent, &c. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 DISQUISITION TOUCHING THE REPRESENTATION OF THE TRINITY. 
 
 Many will think this subject beyond the reach of what we have hitherto handled, 
 and inconsistent with art ; but I am of a contrary opinion : for a tender-hearted 
 artist has, on account of the many differences among Christians, reason to be in 
 concern for this point, since so many occurrences offer in scripture, where the Al- 
 mighty is either acting in some form about mankind, or is passing by as a glory, to 
 make his presence known. 
 
 The greatest part of Christendom {Holland, England, and a part of Germany ex- 
 cepted), allow, with one accord, the representation of the persons in the Trinity; as 
 first, God the Father, in the shape of an old man, with a long grey beard and hair: 
 secondly, Jesus Christ, as he appeared in his humanity ; and thirdly, God the Holy 
 Ghost, in the shape of a dove, in w hich shape he descended on Jesus Christ at the 
 time of his baptism. 
 
 Now if, according to the letter of scripture, I were to represent Adam and Eve, I 
 find it necessary to exhibit the Creator of the world, and Maker of Adam, in a 
 visible shape, since it is written, that he made Adam of the dust of the ground, 
 and breathed into him the breath of life. Now, he who is to make something, oi 
 breathe into something, must, humanly speaking, have both hands and mouth. 
 
113 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceiling's^ or Plafonds, 
 
 As scripture also commonly shews us an apprehensive quality of the Almighty, 
 why should I be more culpable for representing him under the same, than under 
 that of a triangle surrounded with a glory, and containing some Hebrew letters ? 
 Yet our divines are of opinion that this last is allowable, but not* the former. Is not 
 then the one a figure as well as the other ? Or do the Jewish characters, or the in- 
 animate shape of a triangle, make any alteration? 
 
 Besides these reasons, does not a picture tend as well to instruction as a well- 
 digested speech, wherein the orator, in order to be understood, is obliged to use a 
 figural way of expression by parables? Or as a writing, wherein we find the same 
 method for understanding it? Since the aim of both is, by the perception of the 
 hearers, to make their discourses have an impression on their minds. Even the 
 writing containing the matter, does it not consist of letter-figures, which, by a cer- 
 tain method of understanding, we comprehend ? For it is not the matter itself. 
 
 I think, that the learned world and artists represent the first person of the Trinity 
 rather in the shape of a man, than of any other creature, on good reasons ; for we 
 learn from scripture, that God created and made man in his own image ; and from 
 the ancient fathers, that man is an epitome of all that God created ; who is therefore 
 called the little world : some even call man the master-piece of God. We ought, 
 therefore, if we will take some likeness from the creatures, to express the Almighty 
 by the most perfect idea to be found, in order to exhibit his perfection, and thus to 
 make the copy, in the best manner, like the original : and the more, as scripture, inr 
 several places, makes mention of the head, eyes, ears, mouth, lips, arms, feet, hands, 
 and other members of God : which things must not be understood in a carnal and 
 literal sense (according to the opinions of some ignorant people, who imagine God, 
 in his nature, to be like a man ; that he sits in heaven on a throne, according to a 
 passage in Isaiah. “ The heaven is my throne, and the earth is my foot-stool.” And 
 as in another place the same prophet says, “ I saw the Lord sitting on a high throne^ 
 and lifted up,” but in a figural and spiritual sense : I think, then, that a painter has 
 no nearer expressions, in such representations where God himself is acting, than to 
 exhil)it his figure in a human shape, as best agreeing with those likenesses. We paint 
 him aged, in order to shew his majesty and wisdom, which are more to be found in 
 old age than youth ; and with a sceptre and globe, and a circle of stars about his 
 head, to shew his omnipotence both in heaven and on earth. But Roman Catholics 
 daily make additions. 
 
 If the scripture represent his godly person under a mysterious sense, why may not 
 the artist be allovyed to do the same ? Do we not read in the Revelation what is 
 mentioned of God in a human shape ? Is it not plain enough ? Or must it be object- 
 jed, that this description is apocryphal ? But granting it, the relation, neyertheless,, 
 
 VOL. n. Ql 
 
114 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 is not accounted heathenish. Any doubt, which might arise from it, does not affect 
 the point with respect to shapes. In another place we find, that the High-priest hid 
 himself, that he might not behold the Lord ; but the Lord put a finger on his eyes 
 till he was past by. How can I represent that passage without a body ? or is it ho 
 fact ? The prophet Isaiah says, “ Behold the name of the Lord comes from far ; 
 his lips are full of indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire.” Now, to make 
 this known to a person who cannot read, and is deaf, is it not more easy to do it by a 
 representation, than by signs? Are we to make only a mouth sending forth a flame? 
 Is this so proper for such a man’s apprehension as a whole figure? Moreover, is not 
 a mouth a likeness and a figure, as well as a whole image? What then are they 
 pretending, who allow one part of the crime, and not the whole? If it be a crime, let 
 it be entirely forbidden ; and if good, or at least sufferable, entirely allowed, and 
 performed. Nevertheless, we must not bow before these things, much less worship 
 them, but the true God only, who is thereby meant. Can we observe a sacrifice 
 otherwise? Is not that a mysterious representation, or, in better terms, a figural de- 
 monstration, when it is said, “ The sacrifice was burning upon the altar, and the 
 children of God were bowing before it, praying, beseeching, and giving thanks in all 
 submission ? 
 
 Scripture, in several places, speaks of the appearing of God to men, either really 
 by the ministry of angels, or in a vision by dreams, or by extasies. There is so fine 
 a description of God, under the shape of an old man, in the seventh chapter of 
 Daniel, that no artist can better represent it. The same scripture also mentions 
 several appearances of angels in human shapes : for which reason, the church, in the 
 second council of Nice, made no difficulty in allowing artists to do it ; and chiefly 
 painters, to represent God the Father, as a kind, loving old man, and the angels in a 
 human shape. 
 
 It seems also, that a painter has the privilege to paint and represent inanimate 
 things as living, according to the ideas which scripture affords him : and the 
 spectator must not be oflfended, when, in some pictures, he finds sacred subjects at- 
 tended with poetical fictions, for their better explanation ; on a supposition the latter 
 be impious. Are not the Psalms oi David, /S'oZowzow’.s Song, and the book oi Job 
 and the Revelation of St. John the Divine, all delivered under poetic figures ? not to 
 speak of the parables besides, mentioned in Scripture. 
 
 Painters therefore are not blame-worthy, for bringing in something that is heathen- 
 ish, in order to clear the matter ; and especially if the fact happened in an heathen- 
 ish country. Thus the great Raphael, in his passage of the children of Israel over 
 Jordan, has represented the river under a human shape, violently turning the water 
 back towards its source. 
 
115 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 As scripture often lays down such and the like things under some figural de- 
 scriptions, it gives painters full liberty to do the same : since, in order to accom- 
 modate itself to the weak apprehensions of men, it usually delivers many of the 
 greatest mysteries under figures and parables ; as it speaks of the rivers, in Psalm 
 xcviii. 8. 
 
 Poussin also made no scruple in his picture of the finding of Moses, to exhibit 
 the river Nile by an human figure. But there were calumniators in his time as well 
 as there are now. He was charged with atheism, for mixing truth with lies, and 
 having no more regard for either, than to treat them alike. Yet, if we look nearer 
 into tliis matter, we shall be convinced, that the learned painter was not in the 
 least tinctured with atheism. Did it not happen in heathenish ^gypt? Was not 
 Pharaoh's daughter present? Did she believe the truth, which was only mani- 
 fested to Ip'ael? Certainly she did not. Since therefore the fact lay in an heathen- 
 ish country, and was done in the presence of but two Hebrew women, the others 
 being Ethnicks, this great artist has not trespassed either against the Christian Faith, 
 or against the art. 
 
 And although, at the first view, a well-grounded objection may be, that with 
 things which relate to religion, no false gods or deities, worshipped by the hea- 
 thens, ought to be mixed, and that it is sutficient for a painter to represent a river 
 in its natural course, and not in an human form, yet the objection is easily an- 
 swered ; for scripture represents the waters, and the noise of rivers, under an 
 human form, as in Psaim xcviii. where it is said. That they clapped their hands 
 and were joyful. Mon over, the Egyptians never worshipped the rivers, but the 
 crocodiles living in them, and Isis, under the shape of a cow, as Ovid?iX\dL other 
 writers testify. 
 
 Since then scriptures makes use of allegorical speeches, a painter may also ex- 
 hibit his subject under symbolical and perceptible likenesses, in order to be the 
 more intelligible to the spectator, without fear that his work will mislead faithful 
 Christians, or strengthen heathenish superstition ; for a painter, who has no other 
 language to express himself by but by figures, ought to make use of them, if he 
 would be understood. 
 
 Rubens, who of all the painters handled those symbolical figures in the most 
 agreeable and learned manner (as we may particularly observe in the Cardinal In- 
 fant’s entry into Antwerp, and in the paintings of the Luxemburgh gallery) is taxed 
 by some with mixing, in those compositions, truth with fictions ; but how easily is 
 this judgment to be refuted, by shewing the use that judicious artist made thereof: 
 for fiction is here not at all mingled withdruth, but only tends to make truth clear 
 
 Q *2 
 
116 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 to sight and apprehension, and thus more plainly to express it by the fictitious cha- 
 racters and emblems. 
 
 I pray observe, in his birth of the French King, Louis XIII. how that excellent 
 artist has exhibited Castor with an artful sway, on distant clouds, sitting on his 
 winged horse, and opposite to him Apollo, who, in his radiant chariot, is driving 
 upwards, in order to shew that this prince was happily born in the morning. Here- 
 by it is evident, that this ingenious master had no thoughts of representing deities 
 as deities, but only to denote, by Castor (as accounted a happy constellation) the 
 king’s fortunate birth, and by Apollo the time of the day, which was in the morn- 
 ing, appearing by his chariot’s mounting up from the horizon. 
 
 But, further to clear my thoughts touching the representation of ' God the Father, 
 I shall, before I end this chapter, subjoin the following observation. 
 
 The prophet Ezekiel, in his first chapter, mentions, that he saw the Almighty 
 from the appearance of his loins even upwards, and from the appearance of his 
 loins even downwards, as it were the appearance of fire, and it had brightness 
 round about. Wherefore, by this and other instances of scripture, we suppose, 
 that this sacred figure ought never to be represented without a glittering or glory 
 from head to foot ; even in such manner, that, bigger or less, according to the 
 place, occasion, and decorum, and spreading around gradually thinner and fainter, 
 like a clear and transparent vapour, it at last insensibly unites with the by-works, 
 and disappears. 
 
 Noav, to reduce this to a painting, we ought first to design the figure of the Al- 
 mighty, whether sitting or standing, in heaven or on earth, in the most perfect 
 form and countenance, yet much larger than any heavenly or earthly creature. 
 This you must colour with a single tint or ground, a little darker than the glory, 
 and afterwards heighten with light. Then, with a large brush, soften the figure, 
 so that neither its out-line, nor any edginess or sharpness of the parts of the face, 
 hands, or feet (which ought to be touched very gentle and faint) be perceived; just 
 as if it were viewed through a silk gause, steamed glass, or thin mist: in short, 
 like things seen in a Camera Obscura, observing that the figure do not receive any 
 light either from on high, or from aside, or from behind, but in front only and 
 about the most relieved parts, although the whole piece have another light; 
 it must moreover have no other shades than in the deepest cavities, and those 
 very faint. 
 
 We have before cursorily shewed, why we represent the Almighty as a venerable 
 old man ; and shall now further insist on the point, though without reference 
 to all the passages in scripture which might serve our purpose. In Daniel, chap, 
 vii. 9, it is written, The hair of bis head is like pure wool, and his garment 
 
117 
 
 Of th'(^ fainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 white as snow. The reason whereof says Gregorius Nazianzenuef^ is to shew 
 thereby, as by an infallible token, his clean and nndefiled Being. Wherefore the 
 vfi^e'Euscherus is also of opinion, that, for the same reason, the choir and multi- 
 tude of angels are re{>resented in white. Others compare it to the human shape, 
 and would thereby allude to infinite duration, since nothing is so eternal as the 
 Godhead ; which I remark here, because some scrupulous persons are of opinion, 
 that w e ought not to represent God the Father in such a shape, adorned with white 
 garments and grey hair. 
 
 And on this account all nations have, by an universal consent, thought proper to 
 perform dkine service in white garments and ornaments. The white has also been 
 at all times appropriated to the holy service, wherefore the poet Persius says, He is 
 worshipped in white. 
 
 But what is saying to us, since the raiment of Jesus Christ, when he 
 
 manifested his glory to his disciples, appeared as white as snow ? Cicero, Lib. 2. 
 Legum, says. The white looks best in all stuffs, but especially in the woven ones, 
 in Order to exhibit what is holy and godly. 
 
 It is therefore necessary to represent the Almighty in a white garment : however 
 it is not improper, to make it look more natural, that you keep it a little yellowish, 
 as lighted by a sun, or like the glory which surrounds the figure. 
 
 But in all this a painter must be very discreet, and not abuse the licence allowed 
 him by scripture and<the consent of the fathers, or, by his art, pervert the sacred 
 truths or slight them. 
 
 GHAP. XIII. 
 
 or THE GLORIES PROPER TO ANGELS AND HEATHENISH DEITIES. 
 
 Having shewed in what manner, and on what terms, according to my judg- 
 ment, to represent the Almighty ; let us now inquire how the angels, in their power, 
 ought to be exhibited. 
 
 Gregorus Nazicmzenus says, that the true property of the angels, when they ap- 
 pear in a bodily shape, is to have a bright glory and glittering garments. We find 
 the angels thus described in Matt, xxviii. 3; in Marie xvi. 5; in Acts i. 10; and 
 many other places of scripture. 
 
 This glittering light of the angels ought therefore by all means to be observed in 
 most of ther appearances ; as for instance in those to Abraham, and in the deliver- 
 ing Lot out of SodovUi where- they smote the lustful people with blindness^; (or 
 
118 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 it is certain they had something more than human, since Abraham salutes them 
 as lords. It is not likely that this honour proceeded from their costly dress, jewels, 
 and other precious things about them, but from some heavenly or uncommon ad- 
 dition. 
 
 A further proof of this glory of the angels, is the sore pressing of the Sodomites 
 upon Lot, and their not coveting either him or his daughters, or any other strangers 
 probably living among them, but only these two young men to be brought out in 
 order to know them ; and, perhaps, because of their more than human form and 
 charming brightness. If now this glory had shone too strong, they would have 
 perceived some deity, and forbore their wickedness ; for it cannot be imagined, that 
 any man should daringly and knowingly strive against the Almighty. 
 
 But before we proceed further, I must here deliver my opinion concerning the per- 
 son of Jesus Christ; which is, that in his humanity, and before his resurrection, he 
 ought. to be represented without the least shining or glory; since he was made in 
 fhe likeness of men, and would be like his brethren in all things, except sin, as scrip- 
 ture testifies : but, after his resurrection, he would be shewn with a glory (as we read 
 he appeared to his disciples on mount Tabor, and in other places) as having then put 
 off his humanity in its principal purpose. Now to proceed. 
 
 We have further instances of the appearance of angels, as in those who came to 
 Manoah, Gideon, and Tobit, and him who smote the people of Jerusalem for J)a- 
 vid’s sin, &c. Of the first, scripture expressly says, that he, foretelling Manoah 
 the birth of Samson, ascended in the flame of the altar; possibly in augmen.aiion of 
 glory, uniting with the flame of the offering, by which doubling brightness, the pa- 
 rents of Samson w'ere strengthened in their faith and hope of the birth to come. 
 
 If this glory now be painted too strong and like lightning, it blinds our mortal 
 eyes, and thus the patriarch Abraham could have viewed it no more than the pro- 
 phet and leader of Israel, Closes, when God appeared to him- and passed before his 
 face: and this glory would destroy a beholder. . ♦ 
 
 The blind heathens had glimmerings of this truth ; for when Semele presumptuously 
 desired, that Jupiter might once embrace her in the same majesty as he did Juno 
 in heaven, and insisted on it, notwithstanding his dissuasion to. the con r y, she was, 
 on the request granted, entirely consumed by the attending glory of the God, inso- 
 much that with difiiculty he saved the child he had by her. 
 
 Whence it is plain, that the glory, even in exhibiting the heathenish deities, ought 
 to be observed ; since in their appearance to men, either by night or day, to bless 
 or punish them, they retained their full force, glory, and' majesty; and this being 
 weighed, they must also be represented glittering, beautiful in aspect and shape, 
 and in raiment of an elegant colour, as much as possible, and the nature and use of 
 
Of the Painting of Ceilings or Plafonds. 139 
 
 the picture \vill permit ; as we have before hinted in the management of coldurs in 
 ceiling pieces. 
 
 But when the deities appear among men, as men, then they ought to be like them, 
 and not easily distinguishable, otherwise than by their mien ; as, for instance, in the 
 story of Jupiter with Calisto, Apollo with Daphne, Jupiter with Lycaon, Mercury 
 with Argus, and the like: in such cases, and that they might the better play their 
 parts, they transformed themselves entirely into men, and were perfectly like them, 
 laying aside all god-like glory and shape; as if, according to the opinion of the- hea- 
 thens, they meant that there could be no union of the divine with human nature. 
 
 As to the motions of the heathenish deities, many represent them appearing in 
 active postures, as walking, running, and other motions ; but it is as contrary to my 
 own opinion, as that of the great bishop of Hippo, Heliodorus. This learned man, 
 and great searcher into heathenish antiquities, will not allow them to go or walk, 
 when seen in their majesty, but only to wave, or seem in some measure to walk, 
 . yet gliding-like a ship moved gently along by the wind, without perceptible motion : 
 they ought always to be set out with thin clouds, of which such as are nearest them 
 receive a greater and stronger light. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 or THE llEPRESENTATIONS OF ANGELS AND HE ATHEJ^^ISII GENII. 
 
 The Almighty, in the beginning, created an infinite number of angels or heavenly 
 spirits, who in Scripture are distinguished by names ; as seraphins, cherubins, 
 thrones, powers, arch-angels, angels, &c. 
 
 The first, as being nearest to the glory of the Almighty, are always represented 
 young and harmless, and with six wings, according to Isaiah, ch. vi. 
 
 The second are exhibited only for the sake of motion, and to denote the efficacy 
 of eternal happiness, which their undefiled purity and childish form give to un- 
 derstand. 
 
 The third, who continually attend God’s justice (as Dionysius Areopagita, St. 
 Pauls disciple, writes), are somewhat older, and more full-grown, and of an agree- 
 able sway and motion ; causing, by their appearances, no fear or fright, but. joy 
 and gladness in people’s minds. 
 
 The fourth are appointed to execute divine vengeance, in the punishment of sins 
 and wickedness ; of these one was so strong, that, with the Almighty’s permission, 
 he smote in the camp of the Assyrians 1B5,000 men, 2 Kings xix ; 'I Chr on. xxxii; 
 
120 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 Isaiah xxxvii. These are represented larger than the former, having stern coun- 
 ' tenapees and violent motions ; are seldom or ever naked, but in eoats of armour, 
 and with a flaming sword or thunder in their hands, or else a shield on thier arms, 
 with the name of God glittering thereon. By their unexpected appearance thpy 
 cause not only fear and fright in the wicked, but a continual remorse without re- 
 pentance. 
 
 The fifth manage great and courtly afiairs ; as guardians, leading men to the 
 knowledge of God : they are of a perfect form and modest countenance. 
 
 The last protect us from all hurt, and are particularly ordained to excite us to 
 virtue, and dissuade us from evil. Acts xii. These, according to Dionysius, as being 
 the eldest in the lowest choir or hierarchy, are represented of a large size, ma- 
 jestic, and quick in motion. 
 
 There is still another kind, called evil spirits, or desmones, or devils : Plato calls 
 them cacodeemones, or knowing and crafty. These afflict the wicked, and induce 
 them to all manner of sin, as blasphemy, unchasteness, gluttony, drunkenness, lying, 
 defrauding, murder, &c. Their shapes are various, even as many as there are 
 sins; and although they endeavour sometimes to mislead men under beautiful ap- 
 pearances, yet they are always represented by some token whereby to know them, 
 either on their heads, backs, hands, or feet, such as fins, bats wings, vultures or 
 eagles’ claws, bears paws, dragons tails, &c.; also holding lighted torches, pitch- 
 forks, purses, murdering weapons, crowns, fetters, yokes, serpents and adders, 
 and with flames issuing out of their mouths ; in a w ord, any thing that betokens 
 evil. 
 
 As to the angels before mentioned, who in all ages have been represented with 
 wings, scripture allows us the liberty so to exhibit them ; for the Almighty himself 
 shewed the pattern of the Ark of the Covenant, and the cherubins in. this 
 
 manner upon it. Can any example be more perfect than his ? More instances in 
 scripture may be found in the prophecies of Daniel, chap. ix. 21 ; Isaiah vi. Rev. iy. 
 Ezekiel x. &c.* 
 
 Having thus far treated of the representation of angels we shall now shew the 
 opinion of the heathens, not ill agreeing with the same meaning. 
 
 * It will he evident that the author of this work was a member of the Popish Church, 
 and has therefore written the preceding remarks under the influence of its particular 
 tenets. I recommend the student to consult upon these points a most elegant French 
 work, entitled, “ Erreurs des Peintres'' . 1 hav^ placed a copy of this %vork in the 
 library of the Royal Institution. E, 
 
121 
 
 Of the Painting of CeilingF, or Plafonds. 
 
 Plutarch tells us, that the ancient Romans had also their tutelar guardians, by 
 them styled genii, or birth-gods ; but they were not represented as angels, or sitting 
 upon clouds, or with wings or glories, but as well -shaped young men between six- 
 teen and twenty years of age, and without beards, having long light hair, composed 
 countenances and easy motions, and a dog’s skin over their upper parts. 
 
 The reason of this clothing was, as Chrysippus says, that they, as good spirits, 
 attend us from our nativities, being guardians of our actions, in reproving vice and 
 revenging transgressions, as often as we prefer brutality before humanity, w-hich the 
 genii abhorred, pursuing and barking at us, in order to awake the conscience. Of 
 which opinion is Censormus, and several "others whom he quotes : adding, that these 
 spirits watch so narrowly, that they never leave us, inciting us to virtue, in pro- 
 portion as we forsake vice and covet felicitj^ But why need we these examples? 
 Our Saviour affirms, that the angels have charge over us, to conduct and preserve 
 us, as we have before said; wherefore the heathens, by this emblem, have also rightly 
 styled their genii, guardians. 
 
 Censorinus likewise testifies, that the ancients considered their genii as gods of pro- 
 creation, either that, as we have said, they took care of us, or were born with us ; 
 for which reason, they believed there were as many genii as men, and that each had 
 his own : or else that there were twice as many, and that each man had a good one 
 and an evil one ; the former persuading to virtue, and the latter to vice, agreeable to 
 what Christians say of their guardian angels and the devil, this last not failing to 
 afflict mankind, though not born with us, as the heathens believed of their genii. 
 Hence it is, that some represent the genii in the shape of a serpent, others as chil- 
 dren or young men, or else as grey-headed old men, conformable to the philosopher 
 Cehes in his hieroglyphical table. 
 
 Zoroaster and the ancient philosophers have made a distinction between the ani- 
 mals consecrated to the good and evil genii ; according to them, dogs, fowls, and 
 the tortoise are proper to the good, and water animals peculiar to the evil. 
 
 The ancients often exhibited the genii crowned with garlands of horehound, the 
 leaves whereof much resemble those of the vine, or else with chaplets of divers 
 sorts of dowers ; as Tibullus in a certain place says, “ The genius is adorned with 
 a beautiful chaplet of flowers, wl\en his name and festival are celebrated to his ho- 
 nour.” 
 
 Each person worshipped his genius without knowing it, in celebrating his birth- 
 day, and those of princes were especially kept by every body with great splendour ; 
 wherefore he who falsely swore by the genius of his prince (which was accounted 
 a very great oath) was an immediate delinquent. 
 
 Since, as it is said, the ancients had two kinds of genii, a good one and an evil 
 
 VQL. II. R 
 
122 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 one, according to the Socratic Euclid, as Cenaorinus relates, we shall now consider 
 how the evil were represented. 
 
 I do not find the ancients had any statues or resemblances of them ; hut we read, 
 as writers testify, that they appeared to many. 
 
 Plutarch, Appianus, Florus, and others report, that as Brutus one night (accord- 
 ing to his Custom) had betaken himself, with a light, to his apartment for medita- 
 tion, he saw before him the likeness of a man, but very frightful, black and clothed 
 in a wolfs skin ; who being asked, who he was ? answ^ered, I am thy evil genius, 
 Brutus ! Valerius Maximus also writes, that the evil genius appeared to Cassius, 
 of the cursed tribe of Marcus Antonius, a little before Ceesar caused him to be be- 
 headed. This genius appeared as a large black man, about fifty or sixty years of 
 age, having long hair, and a dirty matted beard, and was covered with a wolfs skin 
 down half way the thighs. 
 
 The Temesians, formerly inhabitants of Ahruzzo, a country in Italy, had also a 
 very evil genius, of a black colour and frightful look, and clothed in a wolfs skin, 
 doing that people much damage; di^Pausanias and Suidas testify. 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 OF SACRED EMBLEMS. 
 
 The design of a well-composed sacred emblem is principally to edify, and to incite 
 to virtue ; representing it to us as a looking glass, not so much for the regulation of 
 our bodies as our souls, and by such means to bring us to happiness. 
 
 These emblems are either general or particular : general, when they suit any per- 
 son whatsoever ; and particular, when they relate to one only. When their subject 
 is piety or virtue, learning, liberty, peace of mind, and such like, they are general, 
 and applicable to every person who possesses, or endeavours to possess, those qua- 
 lities : but when a particular person is their subject, as the Virgin Mary, an apostle, 
 or other virtuous man, who excelled in some particular gift, in such case they are 
 particular or singular. We ought, therefore, in the former sort, to observe, that 
 the main matter is spiritual ; and, in the latter, corporal : the one exhibits learning 
 itself, and the other a learned man or philosopher ; one shews Peace, and the other 
 a peaceable man; one represents Piety, and the other a pious man, &c. The 
 one is the matter itself, and the other he who possesses it. However, a judicious 
 master will make a distinction between spiritual and corporal virtues, between natu- 
 ral inclinations and heavenly gifts. The corporal, as strengtli, prudence, equity. 
 
123 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 and the like, proceed from us, or, in better terms, are peculiar to us, walk, stand, 
 and act with us; and the spiritual and heavenly, and which consequently have no 
 relation with the body, are as without us ; wherefore they must be represented either 
 sitting or lying on clouds, and the nearer they approach beatitude, the more glitter- 
 ing, nimble, faint, and waving they are to be exhibited. 
 
 I am of opinion that we ought to adapt particular sorts of stuffs to the aforesaid 
 virtues and qualities, according to their ranks and dignities ; as, to clothe the earthly 
 in stuffs and cloth, and in thick silk ; and those still higher, in gause scarfs, or else 
 to let them remain naked. 
 
 We must further remark on the last of these, that the characters called the quali- 
 ties of God, I mean figural characters, such as the eye, implying Dominion ; the cir- 
 cled serpent, Eternity ; the sun. Glory ; and such like, ought always to appear in the 
 uppermost glory, as pertaining to the Deity, and are represented by lovely waving 
 children. Yet let it be observed, that those things only respect the blessings of hea- 
 ven ; for, when the Almighty is provoked, and is to inflict punishments, we must in- 
 troduce other qualities, such as his wrath, justice, &c. also represented^ by angels, 
 with thunder, fiery swords, scales, &c, but these ought to be stronger and like young 
 men ; as we find it in Scripture, in the story of Lot, where they struck the Sodomites 
 with blindness ; and in that of Sennacherib, where an angel of the Lord in one night 
 smote so many thousands, and more such cases. 
 
 I shall illustrate what I have before said by further examples, in such manner as 
 I apprehend the point ; and for that purpose have chosen an uncommon subject, to 
 serve for a particular 
 
 Emblem and stately Monument of her Majesty, Mary Stuart, late Queen of Great 
 Britain, France, and Ireland, Princess of Orange. 
 
 Here a tomb is standing on the left side of the piece, on a basement whereon is 
 carved the river-god of the Thames. In the middle of the piece, on the second ground 
 a princess is sitting in grandeur on a throne, representing England with its proper 
 badges. She leans her head on her left hand, and with her right opens the royal 
 robe of the deceased, which is lined with ermine, and with, the sceptre and crown 
 lies in her lap, whereon she casts a sorrowful look ; she is covered with a black gause 
 weed, which darkens the glitter of the seat and coat of arms. Policy, on her left side, 
 quite dejected, is beholding the tomb, accompanied by Sorrow. On the other side 
 appears the Protestant Church, languishing, supported by Hope, who points at the 
 tomb, whereon stands a large beautiful antique vase, out of which is growing a rose- 
 twig having but one bud, whereon Providence, sitting on clouds, dispenses some 
 moisture out of a small crystal phial, and with her sceptre points upwards at the ce- 
 
 R 2 
 
124 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 lestial liglii, to which Wisdom, Piety, and Stedfastness are seen flying, supporting, 
 or rather carrying a beautiful young virgin along with them. This virgin is dressed 
 in white and crowned with roses, having a bright star over her head ; her hands are 
 across her breast, and she is looking upwards with a joyful countenance. On high 
 appears God’s Love or Tenderness, w^aiting for her with open arms, having in its 
 lap a pelican feeding its young wdth its own blood. The other characters of divine 
 Happiness before-mentioned are also seen, and especially heavenly or perfect Joy or 
 Harmony, represented by spirits singing and playing on instruments. On the vase 
 is a medal, wherein is carved a phoenix arising out of its ashes. Under it, on a black 
 table, is written in gold letters, either in Latin or English, I DIE IN ORDER TO 
 LIVE. The tomb is hung with festoons of cypress, intermixed with roses. On the 
 right side of the tomb stands Fate, having in the left hand a rose close to the vase, 
 and in the right a pair of scissors, as if she had cut off the rose with them. On the 
 left sight of the tomb stands nature, dejectedly holding a handkerchief before her 
 eyes, and with the left hand at her breast. Envy, to the right forwards, is taking to 
 flight, biting a heart, and looking either at Providence or at the beautiful soul as- 
 cending. About the throne stand Scotland, France, and Ireland, in mourning. 
 
 A Second Example. 
 
 Here we may represent Majesty on a raised throne, sitting in full splendour , Cle- 
 mency and Authority standing behind her, and holding over her head a crown top- 
 ped with a glittering star. On her side may sit Religion, and on a step below Po- 
 licy taking shelter under her garment. Quiet, Plenty, and Success by land and sea, 
 may be placed as coming in ^ and, on the other side. Peace accompanied by Ait and 
 Science. Above, in an open heaven, sits Providence pouring down divine Blessing. 
 Over the throne, on a cloud, should be Wisdom, Religiousness, and Stedfastness. 
 
 This Majesty may be here the subject of this emblem, and, if it have no particular 
 characters, suit any kingdom, power, or commonwealth in Christendom ; but if it 
 have any arms, device, or motto, as SUFFICIT UNUS. or a flower-de-luce for 
 France', PLUS ULTRA for Spain; HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE for 
 England; then this Majesty ought to be like that which it is to represent. 
 
 It would not be improper to see the glory filled with Divine Love or Kindness as 
 before-mentioned, and Prosperity flowing from it. Fright and Fear taking to flight,, 
 and Envy, Fraud, and Heresy under Majesty’s feet. 
 
 The active Virtues I represent by figures," which hold the crown over Majesty’ji 
 head, and those sitting on clouds, &c. 
 
 A Third Example. 
 
 The subject of this shall be Innocence murdered. 
 
125 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 Here Innocence is prostrate, murdered by raging Impiety. She lies near an ex- 
 tinguished altar, stretched out on the ground, clothed in a clean white garment, 
 betokening an upright undefiled heart. The cruel executioner forcibly tears her in- 
 nocent child from her breast, and at the same time the brutish murderer is stepping 
 from the eminence whereon he sat, in order to go otF; he is stained Avith innocent 
 blood, and, sheathing his bloody sword, tramples under foot a pelican with its young, 
 Rage attending him, and firing them with her torch, is looking back in great conster- 
 nation at Heaven, Avhich darts many thunders at her. There Divine Justice is des- 
 cending, with scales in one hand and thunders in the other. Piety, bowing before 
 her at the altar, is praying and shewing her the innocent corpse; whereupon she 
 doubles her speed to execute revenge. Now see the wrath of God expressed, not 
 Avith bright sun-beams from on high, but with fiery and bloody ones. 
 
 Here Justice, or divine Wrath, has a flaming red garment or veil. Impiety is 
 clothed in a rusty copper-coloured drapery. The Executioner, who misuses the 
 child, has a cruel aspect, and is reddish. Over Innocence a little angel is ascending 
 to heaven with a bright star, to w hich a long ray seems to proceed out of her mouth ; 
 he has a palm branch in his hand, to signify her happiness. 
 
 The following is a short sketch of the actions. 
 
 The head of the corpse lies on the middle of the piece on the fore-ground, and the 
 feet towards the right side, somewhat nearer to the altar, with one leg a little up, as 
 if there were still some life left. Behind the altar Piety kneels on one knee, which 
 is in shade, she receiving her light from Justice, who, on the second ground, is with 
 her upper parts directly over the point of sight, and her feet somewhat fore-shortened 
 towards the right side, from whence she is coming. On the left side, on the same 
 ground, a little more forward. Impiety and Rage take to flight. Rage is half-shaded 
 by dark clouds, over which heaven opens. The fore-ground has a right light; but 
 Justice receives her light from behind. On the left side of the piece is a dark off- 
 scape. 
 
 Now, as the former emblem represented the reward of virtue, so this represents 
 the punishment of evil ; in that appeared the love of God, in this his wrath. 
 
 Thus are my thoughts on these subjects, not presuming to have treated them wdth 
 the utmost accuracy ; I am far from giving them out as perfect emblems, since that 
 is the work of great judgment, vast knowledge, and mature consideration; never- 
 theless, rough as the plan is, it is sufficient for explaining my sentiments. And as 
 we always attach ourselves either more or less to art, and hardly keep so much 
 within the bounds of curiosity, as not to take some liberties in the disposition of 
 things, so I have represented him who is taking away the child, as an executioner, 
 naked, his hair tied with a cloth, and with a dagger lying by him, and Impiousnessy 
 
126 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 as a prince, with a bloody diadem about his head, and a staff in his hand ; though 
 these figures ought to be women ; moreover, the executioner might have been left out. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 or THE PENATES, LARES, AND CUPIDS. 
 
 Ancient histories relate, that most nations which lived under laws and policy, 
 especially the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, but mostly these last, had certain 
 figures of gold, silver, copper, or wood, which they styled DU Penates — in English, 
 household-gods. These they kept as holy, and took such particular care of, that 
 in case they happened to be lost, either through carelessness, violence, or other ac- 
 cidents, they thought it foreboded some imminent disaster or bad luck to befal them; 
 and accordingly believed, when any such were at hand, that those gods were either 
 removing, or vanished. 
 
 The historian Timceus writes, that they were represented like two beautiful young 
 men in a warlike dress, each with a javelin in his hand, and by or near them an 
 earthern fire-pan, over which lay two long iron bars cross-ways, turned at the ends 
 like the hazel wands which Augures held in their hands at the time of officiating. 
 
 Cicero, treating of the Penates, says. They were certain gods brought forth in 
 the houses of particular men, and worshipped in the most concealed and private 
 places of them. And in this sense Demophoon ?ia.dL Terence spake, when they said. 
 They would go home and hide their household gods, before they betook to their 
 business and calling. 
 
 In scripture also we have the Teraphims, or household gods, which Rachel stole 
 from her father Laban, when he went to sheer his sheep; as the Rabbi Eliezer, in 
 the 36th chapter of his Discourses, largely treats, speaking of Laban, and the pre- 
 paring of the Teraphims. 
 
 We have before said, that the Penates were in great esteem among the Romans, 
 which Dionysius Halicarnassus affirms, saying, They were worshipped at Rome, 
 under the shape of two sitting young men, in very ancient and warlike dresses, and 
 having javelins in their hands, with this subscription, DU Penates, as we find it still 
 in ancient medals. Nigidius was of opinion, that they ere Apollo 2ind Neptune \ 
 and the rather, as by Apollo is meant heat and drought, and by Neptune cold and 
 moistness ; judging the worship to own its origin from these effects; wherefore, Fir- 
 gil in the Pighth Book of his AEneids, styles them the great gods, meaning the Pe- 
 nates. Others think that Jupiter and Juno are signified by them, because their 
 
127 
 
 Of the P amt mg of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 chief business was to give men help and assistance, and therefore they both derive 
 from the Latin word Juvare, signifying to help or assist. Others again imagine 
 them to be Castor and Pollux, because they, with the Penates or household gods, 
 were also according to the ancient poets and historians, in very great esteem, and 
 the Romani worship assigned them the first places in their temples. 
 
 It will here be proper to deduce something touching these gods from antiquity, 
 the better to illustrate the point. 
 
 We read, that when the daughter of Pallantes was married to Dardanus, she 
 brought in dower the gifts which Pallas had made her a present of, being an oblong 
 shield, dropped from heaven (which she styled Palladium), and the figures of the 
 Penates, or great gods. Afterwards, on a rebellion breaking out in Pelopennesus, 
 w’here Dardanus and his wife lived, he with many of the Arcadians fled from thence, 
 taking shipping for Samothracia, where, in consideration of those gifts, brought as 
 a portion, he built a temple, instituting private solemnities for their religious wor- 
 ship, keeping them from the common people in a vault under the ground ; and soon 
 after, on his departure for Asia, took them with him, and placed them in Dardania, 
 so called from his name. His son Ilus being employed in building Ilium, or Troy, 
 transplanted those gods thither. JEneas afterwards having saved them out of the 
 flames of that city, carried them to Italy, placing them in the city of Lavinium, 
 Ascanius, his son, removed them to the city of Alba, where he dedicated a large and 
 magnificent temple to their honour. But they say, the gods of themselves, without 
 human assistance, returned the next night to Taviniam, though the gates were fast* 
 and the town-wall and roof of the temple found entire, and without any breaches. 
 Which miracle very much surprising Ascanius, he sent to Livinium six hundred 
 men, called Curatores, of whom Egesius was chief, to guard the gods. At last, 
 being carried to Rome, they remained without any alteration, and the Roman peo- 
 ple committing to them the care and protection of their city, and growing empire, 
 placed them, in imitation of Cardanus (that they might not be stolen either by fraud 
 violence), in a vault or temple under ground, wherein, after consecration, they of- 
 fered sacrifices to them, not allowing any person to spit in this temple, because the 
 gods, like Vesta, were worshipped with fire. 
 
 They were represented as young men, and sitting with javelins in their hands, 
 to signify their being adored as maintainors and protectors : for the sitting hiero- 
 glyphically expresses, stedfastness in what we design to do: the javelins imply, that 
 they preserve from harm and disaster ; and the youthfulness denotes the increase of 
 their power. 
 
 The Lares were much like the Penates, at least in the guard and care of cities. 
 They also are said to have hid, or kept themselves secret in the houses, as well as 
 
128 , Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Flafonds. 
 
 the Penates : which Tibullus affirms, saying, That they have not only the care of 
 particular houses, but also of the whole town. 
 
 The ancients used to place dogs to watch their idols, called Lares ; as being a 
 creature kind and fawning on the family, and fierce and frightful to strangers. 
 They had the same opinion of their Lares, or household gods, committing to them 
 the entire care and safeguard of their families. For this reason, says Plutarch, the 
 Romans represented them as brisk young men, dressed in dog-skins; Ovid affirms, 
 they were sometimes exhibited in short garments, gathered up on the left shoulder, 
 and coming down under the right, in order to be more free and loose in their mo- 
 tion, because, says he, their business was like that of the genii (mentioned before), 
 to inquire narrowly into men’s actions for the punishment of the wicked. The phi- 
 losopher Jamblichus relates, that they were often worshipped on the roads, and had 
 from time to time offerings of wine and frankincense. 
 
 We shall now treat of the shape of children, distinguishing them into heavenly 
 and earthly. 
 
 Poussin exhibited them too fleshy and full for flying, and those of Raphael are, 
 generally, chiefly in the borders of the histories of Psyche, too hard and masculine ; 
 wherefore, to find a good form, we must keep a medium between both. But cupids 
 ought not to be represented so heavy as earthly children, yet as young as you please. 
 The earthly, contrarily, must have understanding, in order to be able to execute 
 something, and their bodies to be enlarged according to what they are to do or 
 carry. But in representing a Cupid, who is to deliver a message, I think it is proper 
 to give him age and bulk enough to do the business punctually, and the better to 
 express truth and nature. As to their wings, they must not be made in proportion 
 to the weight of their bodies like birds, for their bodies wave of themselves, and the 
 size of the wings often creates deformity, unless they are to represent a Fame, when 
 they ought to be larger. 
 
 As to the Loves or Cupids themselves, they, according to my apprehension, differ 
 as much in size as action. The one is, by the poets, called Cupid, and the other 
 Anteros. The former creates love and desire for voluptuousness, and the latter 
 leads to virtues, arts, and sciences. They have both a like beautiful and agreeable 
 aspect according to their ages. Cupid is represented about six or eight years old, 
 and quite naked, armed with a bow and arrows, and sometimes holding a burning 
 torch. Anteros, contrarily, has a purple garment, with bare arms and legs only, a 
 crow n of laurel about his head, a burning torch in his hand, sandals on his feet, and 
 he is about twelve or fourteen years of age. Cupid is wild and frolicsome, Anteros 
 ;sedate and contemplative. 
 
 There is another less kind of Cupids somewhat younger and more simple than the 
 
129 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Tlafonds. 
 
 former. These increase love, incite the pleasures of voluptuousness, or more 
 stronger delude the senses. To them, in order to shew their simplicity, are ascribed 
 childish and idle actions, such as dancing, skipping about, running, rolling, flying, 
 flinging apples at each other, &c. They must not have quivers, bows, arrows, or 
 torches, but baskets of fruit and flowers, or chaplets, a looking glass, or any thing 
 tending to the pleasures of Venus. 
 
 Alexander, Propertius, Philostratiis, Claudianus, Silius Italicus, Apulcius, and 
 others relate, that the diflerent Loves and Cupids do not only respect the charms 
 and service of Venus, but also imply the desires and tendencies of the heart; 
 since all men do not affect the same object, but each chuses for himself. 
 
 We represent Cupid or Love in the form of a little child, because it is sottish to 
 betake to venery ; for the actions and speeches of those in love, are as imperfect as 
 those of little children, as Virgil shews in Dido , — She begins to speak, and stops in 
 the middle of liertalk. He is exhibited with wings, to signify the inconstancy of 
 lovers, who change with every wind, as we see in Dido, who was to put to death 
 the person whom she before so dearly loved. He has arrows in his hand, because 
 they are also very light, and do not always hit the mark, as we have said of lovers, 
 who are whimsical and tickle when they cannot gratify their wishes ; and as the 
 arrow are sharp and piercing, so the sins of concupiscence no less wound the con- 
 science. The arrows are likewise an emblem of love, which like thunder seizes 
 the heart ; for many have experienced the sorrowful issue of being captivated by the 
 amorous glances of a beautiful woman, and through their fiery passions been led 
 into great troubles ; for which reason Cupid is sometimes represented with thunder 
 in his hand. 
 
 CHAP. XVJI. 
 
 DEVOTIONAL ACTIONS OP NATURE. 
 
 O F all the perfections of human nature, religion is the most excellent and most uni- 
 versal ; wherefore all nations partake of it in their manner of living and service. 
 And as reason principally distinguishes man from beasts, so we any where see, that 
 the use of it binds men to some religious duties, as attending human understanding ; 
 and, according to Jumblichus, a Platonic sectary, exciting it by a natural desire and 
 propensity to do good and shun evil. To which some allude by the celestial fire in 
 the fable of Prometheus, with which he animated the first man ; thereby signifying, 
 that as the soul is governed by religion, so our actions must chiefly tend to implore 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 s 
 
130 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 a blessing on them, and our eyes and hands be lifted up to heaven, knowing tliat all 
 good proceeds from the invisible Giver of all things, and we ought thanh fully to re- 
 ceive it to his honour and glory. We shall, therefore, in order to be both delightful 
 and useful, shew from antiquity, how and in wdiat manner divers nations, not en- 
 lightened by the gospel, have dedicated their worship under fictions and fables to 
 the invisible Being, and begin with the Egyptians. 
 
 The custom of these people was, when any person prayed to the gods, that he 
 must, as the most decent action, do it standing and with lifted up hands ; which pos- 
 ture was also strictly observed by iheJlomanii in their religious worship, as Martial 
 and Horace testify. ITr^iMikewise shews, that standing with hands lifted up signi- 
 fies w orship, when he introduces Anchises (at the miraculous sight of Juluss head, en- 
 compassed with a shining light, and yet his hair unhurt by the flame) joyfully turning 
 his eyes to heaven, and lifting his hands in prayer to Jupiter ; and, in confirmation 
 of the acceptableness thereof, a loud thunder was soon after heard, and a star ap- 
 peared in the heavens when dark, which, like a torch, with a long clear tail, descend- 
 ing tow^ards the house, glided along, and at last hid itself in the wood of mount Ida, 
 leaving behind a long stripe which emitted a sulphurous vapour and smoke ; where- 
 upon Anchises, standing up, invokes the gods and sacred stars. Philo says, that the 
 erect standing posture denotes an humble heart, wholly devoting itself to heaven. 
 Authors unanimously agree, that the ancients offered their sacrifices, vows, and 
 prayers to Jupiter in a standing posture, but to the goddess Op, in a sitting one, 
 signifying thereby that she was the mother of the earth. enjoins those 
 
 who pray, to do it sitting; yet Plutarch says, that Numa Pompilius was the author 
 of that custom, thereby teaching, that vows and prayers ought to be certain and 
 constant. 
 
 As to the posture of praying standing, St. Paid seems jo exhort thereto in his 
 epistles. We find likewise in the Old Testament, that the priests did in their prayers 
 stretch out their hands to heaven. In the book of Judges, chap. vii. we read, that 
 in Gideon’s army, the men who bowed down on their knees to drink, were by God’s 
 command sent away : but those who drank standing, putting their hands to their 
 mouths, w^ere chosen, and defeated the Midianites. In Exod. chap. xvii. it is written, 
 that as long as Moses held up his hands Amalek was discomfitted : which, as Ada- 
 mantius says, signifies, that he offered up to God his actions and enterprizes, not like 
 creeping animals who cleave to the earth, but as directing his heart and thoughts to 
 heaven. On which grounds and examples the council of iVzce ordained prayer to 
 be made standing. 
 
 Adoration, says Pliny, not only consists in lifting up the hands to heaven, but also 
 in their being open inside upwards, as if we gave them to kiss. They who adore 
 
131 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 and supplicate, says Hicromjmi(s, are used to kiss the hands : wherefore the Hebrews 
 judged this manner of kissing to be very reverential, and strictly observed it. Cicero 
 and Catidlus also confirm the signification of lifting up or stretching out both the 
 hands to heaven. TertulUan speaking of praying for the preservation and prosperity 
 of the emperor, says thus : the Christians bareheaded lift up their hands, with their 
 eyes to heaven in token of innocence ; signifying thereby that they had no occasion 
 to be ashamed, but heartily prayed for their emperor. The Tuscans likewise, in their 
 prayers, used'such a posture or stretching out the hands; and, in adoring their gods, 
 especially Jupiter, lifted up their hands to heaven. Of which Virgil also makes men- 
 tion in his fourth JEneid, where he describes Jarhas among the statues and altars of 
 the gods, lifting up his hands to heaven, humbly and earnestly imploring Jupiter. 
 We read further, that in the Olympic games, anciently celebrated at Smyrna, a ridicu- 
 lous and ignorant actor was reproved by the sophist Polemon, for his awkward mo- 
 tions with hands reversed ; because, when he was to say, Oh Jupiter ! he turned hi.s 
 hands downwards, and in saying. Oh earth ! he looked up to heaven. , But these 
 perverse gestures, proceeding from ancient customs, are still seen among the Romish 
 clergy, who as often as they pronounce the word God or Lord, give the blessing to 
 the congregation ; and in praying for the prosperity of the people, stretch out their 
 hands on high. In the medals of Gordianus Pius, we see a small figure with the 
 arms thus extended and the hands open, with a motto alluding to the matter Pietas 
 August. But to return to the ancient Egyptians: 
 
 They used to represent the Deity in an hieroglyphic manner by a circle: and 
 agreeable thereto, the philosopher Pythagoras enjoined a turning round in the ado- 
 ration of the gods. Alcinous says, also, that he gathered from the Grcc/r writings, 
 that they had an ancient custom of running round the altars when the offered sacri- 
 fice, beginning from the left to the right side, according to the Zodiac, and then run- 
 ning from right to left. Plutarch thinks this was done in imitation of the heavenly 
 motions in their continual rotation, which mortals ought to follow ; though others 
 pretend, that thereby was meant the continual changes and instability of human ac- 
 tions. As for the continual motion and turning of the body in prayer, we find it to 
 have been the custom of divers nations ; and in this sense the poet Propertius, in 
 
 his First Book, accosts his mistress, “ I have often turned round before your 
 
 door, and offered up to you my soul and my prayers.” Like which, there is a pas- 
 sage in Suetonius, when he speaks of the ancestors of Vitellius, “ he had,” says he, “ a 
 particular address for flattery, and was the first who commanded divine worship to 
 be paid to Caius Ccesar ; and no person durst, after his return from Syria, appear in 
 his presence without being covered, and turning several times round with the face 
 downwards. Numa Pompilius ordained that men should turn several times round 
 
 s 2 
 
132 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 ill prayer to heaven, and afterwards sit down, thereby intimating’ that, in worldly 
 affairs, mortals must expect nothing but inconstancy and continual change, whicli 
 they ought to bear with patience and resolution. Add to this Pliny says ; that 
 the maimer of turning round in prayer w^as from the left to the right hand, in imita- 
 tion of the earth; which, according to him and others, turns on its axis after that 
 
 '•i 
 
 manner. Histories inform us, that as Camillus in prayer turned round, accoi ding to 
 the Roman custom, he suddenly fell ; by which accident the people (much addicted 
 to superstition) would needs presage his ruin, which happened soon after. We read 
 also, that Marcellus being at war with the Transalpme Gauls, and come to a town 
 called Capide in order to charge them, his horse, affrighted by the shouts of the enemy, 
 w^ent backwards ; wherefore, to encourage his men, he turned him round as if he 
 were adoring the sun, according to the JRoma/i custom before battle, and thus covered 
 the accident w ithout the people’s perceiving it. 
 
 We shall now, for the reader’s greater satisfaction, treat of Piety, and what re- 
 lates to it. 
 
 The ancients chiefly esteemed the altar as a hieroglyphic of Piety, offering, ac- 
 cording to their opinion, their prayers to the gods by means of fire ; which being 
 supposed a medium between heavenly and human things, they pretended it to be a 
 mediator or messenger. Accordingly Virgil, in his 12th ^neid, “ I touch the altar, 
 and call the fire upon it, and the gods to witness,” &c. They urge further, that fire 
 unites wdth material parts, and always rises upwards from below ; as knowing all 
 our earthly actions, and imparting them to the heavenly spirits. Hence we see, that 
 the manners of offering sacrifices are not without some foundation in 'reason, because 
 the laws of nature are always purely observed. And since the world has been en- 
 lightened w ith the truth, fire is customarily used in divine service, and no sacrifice 
 was thought acceptable without it. Indeed, if earthly creatures can any way reconcile 
 us to heaven, nothing has greater affinity with the fire, as it lights and clears every 
 thing. Wherefore they think that they may represent the genii and angels, even the 
 Deity itself by it. 
 
 As to the Altars and Piety, we see in the medal of the emperor T. JElius, a 
 figure with open hands, which, as before observed, signifies Worship, and by it an 
 altar with these letters, PIETAS. In one of Hadrianus Augustus the same 
 figure, between a stork and an altar adorned with ground-ivy, with this inscription* 
 PIETAS AUG. In one of Diva Augusta Faustina appears a woman, lifting up 
 her garment with the left hand, and laying the offering on the burning altar with the 
 other, having the word PIETAS. In the medal of Lucilla we see a figure stand- 
 ing behind the altar, with a cup in its hand as ready to offer, with the word 
 PIETAS. In that of Antonins is the figure of Piety, opening the right hand as a 
 
133 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 token of adoration, and with the left ready to put the sacrifice on the altar, with 
 the same inscription. In the gold medal of L. JElius Caesar, the right hand of the 
 figure is in the same action, and the left holds a gift, also inscribed PIETAS. 
 
 We offer prayers and supplications, either in making vows or receiving favours 
 in consequence of them. Hence proceed the various inscriptions on medals, 
 which nevertheless do all allude to piety, whether in praying for help or return- 
 ing lhanks: Accordingly we find in the medal of Jidia Pia Aug. a woman tuck- 
 
 ing up her garment on the left side, and offering Vvith the right, with this inscrip- 
 tion VOTA PUBLICA. But in one of Iladrianus are two figures ; one like the 
 emperor, and the other holds in the left hand a palm-sprig, and with the right offers 
 him a cup, having this motto, ADVENTUTI AUGUST!. In one of JDomitian\& 
 a burning altar, inscribed PRINCEPS JUVENTUTIS. 
 
 The altars were anciently, as they are in these times, places of safety and pro- 
 tection. Wherefore Priamus, in Virgil, having lost all hope of preservation, took 
 sanctuary at the altar, of which his wife had said. This altar shall protect us all. 
 Cicero, speaking of the actor, Roscius, says, We run into his house as to an altar. 
 And Ovid, in his Tristib. says. The altar only is left me in my misfortune. 
 
 The Athenians had a particular altar dedicated to Mercy and Compassion, as 
 we gather from the poet Papinius and JLactantius Grammaticus, and from Apsmis in 
 his Rhetoric. Plutarch, treating of superstition, calls the altar abominable. Xeno- 
 phon, in his second book of the state of Greece, takes Vesta for an emblem of re- 
 fuge to the altar : When Therapienes (says he) had heard the things, he took to 
 Vesta for refuge. Pollux calls Vesta the altar of offering, especially that at the 
 Prytoneum* where the everlasting fire was kept. Dionysius Harlicarnassus says. 
 That Romulus built a temple in honour of Vesta, and as a memorial of his having 
 divided the Roman people into thirty wards. Suetonius writes almost the same in 
 the life of Tiberius. 
 
 In fine, the altars were set up for sacrifices and prayer, to obtain divine favour 
 and blessing, though few have determined which of the various sacrifices was 
 best and most approved by the ancients, who offered to the Almighty only in 
 spirit and understanding, without uttering a word ; wherefore the Egyptians honour- 
 ed the crocodile, as having no tongue, applying it to divine silence. They praised 
 the spirits and souls of the ever-blessed, and offered to heavenly things material 
 ones, such as had some affinity with them, viz. fire to the sun, &c. But to the evil 
 spirits or devils, they brought offerings that they might not hurt or obstruct them, or 
 
 * The place in Athens, where the judges and magistrates sat, and where those who had 
 done any considerable service to the common-ivealth ivere maintained at the public charge. 
 
134 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 that their uncleanness might not pollute the sacrifice or the savour of the meat. 
 The Egyptians* always thought it abominable to expiate with the blood of animals, 
 and therefore offered only prayers and frankincense. The kings of the Ptolemaic 
 line enjoined them sacrifices to Serapis and Saturn, to whom they built temples 
 without their towns, wherein to offer beasts as usual ; though in after-times, accord- 
 ing to the inhuman custom of Eiisiris, on his usurping the countries and places bor- 
 dering on the Nile, they offered men. But of offerings we shall treat further in the 
 following chapter. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 OF THE DIFFERENT OFFERINGS OF NATIONS, AND THEIR RITES. 
 
 A s from highest antiquity down to these times, different regards have been had for 
 many persons and places, and the knowledge thereof much concerns an artist : so 
 he ought diligently to inquire into the ancient manners and customs relating thereto, 
 both in general and with respect to particular countries. 
 
 Scripture informs us, that the Athenians were very religious ; wherefore they, 
 as well as the Romans, lest they should forget a deity, would rather set up an altar 
 to an unknown god, and make offerings thereon, than be any ways negligent in 
 the duty of worship. From which altar St. Paid took occasion to preach so 
 powerful a sermon touching Christ and his gospel, as thereby to bring over many 
 souls to Christianity. 
 
 We must conclude, that so many altars required many priests, who were as 
 different in dress as the gods and manner of offering ; those of Jupiter not at all 
 like Priapus’s, nor Diana's those of Bacchus, as we shall shew in the sequel. 
 
 The great Laver of the Jews evidences, that their priests observed a perfect 
 cleanliness in their worship. Even the Almighty himself ordered Moses to put off 
 his shoes, when he appeared to him in the burning bush, and that any man or 
 beast who touched the Mount or its borders, so long as he was present, should be 
 shot or stoned. 
 
 It is not probable that the heathens were so nice in this point ; nevertheless, the 
 present custom induces us to believe, that their ancestors no less observed this de- 
 cency in their worship, since, to this day, even Christians are not allowed to enter 
 the mosqiies of the Mahometans, though of all infidels they are the least observers 
 of religious ceremonies. 
 
 * Macroh. Saturn, lib. i. cap. 7. 
 
135 
 
 Of ihe Pcnnting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 I think it not amiss to deride the Egyptians in particular, for paying divine 
 honour to some beasts, because most nations, especially the Greeks, (who excelled 
 in wisdom and knowledge) as likew ise the Romans were infected with the same 
 superstition. 
 
 Marcrobius writes, that king Janus was the first w'ho introduced and establish- 
 ed in Italy the ofierings to the gods, and that he himself was afterwards wor- 
 shipped as such, even so much, that the ancient Romans never sacrificed before 
 they had invoked him as the inventor and protector of the offerings; for they 
 believed he always sat at the gates of heaven, and that the prayers of mortals 
 could not reach the Gods if he denied them entrance; nay, he must even lend 
 them a hand to go forward, because prayers, which Homer calls women, are 
 lame and cripples. 
 
 The most ancient nations who brought offerings (of which the Egyptians were 
 doubtless the principal) did not make use of beasts, but herbs, flowers, trees, amt 
 plants, as likewise perfumes ; they therefore who anciently lived on beast’s flesh 
 did it, as reported, for want of fruits: and this on an opinion of Pythagoras^ 
 who forbid the eating of meat or blood, as judging that ’the soul had its residence 
 therein : although Eusebius relates the ancient divines maintained, that no beasts, 
 even no meal, honey, fruits or flow'ers ought to be offered ; for, says he, God 
 know^s them who fear him, and favourably accepts the poorest leaf they lay on 
 the altar, regarding their hearts and inclinations, and not what they offer with 
 their hands. 
 
 It is certain that, in old times, a detestable custom prevailed among almost all 
 nations of butchering men for victims ; as we learn, from credible authors, was 
 practised to Diana Eauria. And not only the ancient Scythians, but also the Egyp-^ 
 tians and Romans were infected with the same cruelty ; the former offering such 
 victims in honour to Juno, and the latter to Jupiter, called Latialis, whom they 
 esteemed the protector of the Latins. Sicinnius Dentatus (or the toothed, as being 
 so born), very famous for martial exploits, was the first among the Romans who 
 sacrificed men to Mars. Athanasius relates, that divers other nations, after their 
 return from concpiest, had a custom of dividing their prisoners into hundreds, 
 and that one out of each, as the unlucky lot fell, was sacrificed to Mars. V arro 
 also testifies, that the wandering Trojans, on their arrival at last in Italy, offered, 
 according to the oracle, one man in ten to Pluto Saturn, ^ncsas, as Virgil in- 
 forms us, chose eight young gallants out of the prisoners he took of the enemy, to 
 sacrifice to the gods of hell for the sake oiP alias deceased. Diodorus Siculous men- 
 tions, that the people of Carthage sacrificed to an idol of metal, representing Saturn, 
 holding out its arms bent, young men as a burnt-offering, by consuming them alive 
 
136 Of the 'Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 ill the flames of a red hot oven placed under this figure. Which oflerings were long 
 retained among those people, till at last having them in abhorrence, they put a live 
 deer to the same use. Yet, some time after the death of Alexander the Great, on being 
 visited with the plague, and the town closely besieged and reduced to famine by A.ga~ 
 thocles king of Sicily, they, according to the common custom of nations, had recourse 
 to their imagined tutelar-gods, prayers, and old superstitions, believing that ASa/wr;?, 
 provoked by the change of ofl'ei ing, (which their ancestors, with great devotion ap- 
 propriated to him) had as a punishment caused this disaster and irreparable damage 
 to befal them : which opinion so influenced on the minds of the citizens, that they 
 barbarously in one day offered two hundred, others say three hundred youths of 
 noble birth to that idol, as an atonement. The same writer adds, that the Phoeni- 
 cians exceeded all other nations in that unnatural practice, insomuch, that in a frantic 
 extravagance, and to appease the imagined wrath of the idol, Saturn, they sacrificed 
 their own children; and afterwards abating that cruelty, they made use of those of 
 other men, whom they secretly bought or stole for this abominable purpose. But 
 Plutarch, that Gelon, king of Sicily, having vanquished the Carthagenians in the 
 battle of Hymera, forced ’them to promise never more to offer either their own or 
 other men’s children in such a manner. Quintius Curtius testifies, that this cruel 
 custom prevailed among the people of Tyre, till the destruction of that city. And,^ 
 according to St. Augustin, the ancient Gauls, inhabitants of France, as now called, 
 and several other nations, were defiled with this abomination. Heliogahalus, one of 
 the greatest and most extravagant tyrants who eversaton the Roman thvooe, caused 
 all Italy to be searched for beautiful and noble youths, whose parents were still 
 alive, barbarously, and to the greater sorrow of their families, to offer them as vic- 
 tims. The Jews are also, not without reason, much censured by Aypion, Julian the 
 apostate and others, for having sacrificed men to idols; abhorring the cruelty of 
 Jephthah, chief of the Gileadites, in delivering up his daughter for a burnt-offering. 
 This detestable superstition was not the only prevalent among the heathens, but also 
 among the kings of Judah, the rulers of God’s chosen people, in making their chil- 
 dren pass through the fire, offering them up to Moloch, as we read of AhazdiwA Ma- 
 nasseh, 2 Kings xvi. and xxi. and as Josephus de Antiq. lib. 2. says, after the manner 
 of the Canaanites. Cambyses, king of Persia, and Alexander the Great, after him, by 
 public and universal laws, prohibited their subjects these abominable offerings : yet, 
 not being long observed, the emperor, Uadrianus, under severe penalties entirely 
 supprest them. first abolished the killing of men fora sacrifice to Saturn, 
 
 offering him so many burning lights in their stead, and thereby reformed the inhuman 
 custom. This he did on his return from Spain ; and assigned for reason, that the 
 Greek word (which the oracle of Dodone had made use of for the institution of 
 that solemnity) signified light, as wel l as man, and that therefore they were to offer to 
 
137 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 Pluto* baked figures of clay and burning torches of candles instead of men ; for 
 which cause, they on the festivals of Saturn, called Satimialia, made presents to one 
 another of little figures and burning wax-candles. But Lycurgus, the Lacedemonian 
 legislator, ordained that pigs should be used for victims instead of men. 
 
 The image of Diana, mentioned before, which Iphigenia and Orestes had brought, 
 bound up in a bundle of willow-branches, from Chersonesus L'a^tricia, now called 
 Crim, was worshipped by the Lacedemonians with great reverence. They anciently 
 offered it to men, who were chosen by casting the lot : this cruel custom Lycurgus 
 altered thus ; they led youths to the altar of the idol, and whipped them so long, 
 till, according to their institution, and the will of the oracle, it was sprinkled with 
 human blood : and this was done to encourage young people not to fear the cuts 
 and wounds they might receive from the enemy in battle.' 
 
 Plutarch also relates, that anciently when the plague had made a sad havock at 
 Lacedemon, the people were informed by the oracle, that the infection would cease 
 if they offered yearly some noble virgins. The Lacedemonians obeyed. At last it 
 happened, that the lot fell on Helena: who, being led for sacrifice, an eagle des- 
 cended, and snatched the weapon out of the priest’s hand, carrying it over a field, 
 where he dropped on a heifer. Aristides,, in his 19th book of the Italian state, 
 mentions the same accident formerly happening at Rome io Valerio Luperca. 
 
 The head, says Hesychim, bishop of Jerusalem, as having of all that is created, 
 reason is called understanding, and has planted its seat in the heart. God also 
 formerly commanded, that the heart and liver, and all that belongs to it, should be 
 a burnt-offering to him : for from the heart and liver come forth the springs and 
 motions of our carnal appetites. And in this sense St. Paul blesses his congrega- 
 tion, saying, The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts 
 and minds,” &c. The prophet Isaiah says likewise, “ The whole head is sick, and 
 the whole heart faint : from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no sound- 
 ness in it.” 
 
 Herodotus writes, that the Scythians worshipped divers gods, but did not erect 
 either temples, altars, or images, other than to Mar^, although their manner of sacri- 
 fice was one and the same to all their gods : and which I think not improper to men- 
 tion here. The victim being brought to the appointed place, with its fore-legs tied, 
 the priest followed, striking it on the head; which causing it to sink, they thereupon 
 invoked the god to whom it was to be offered. Then he threw a rope about its neck 
 and strangled it, and pulling the skin and flesh from the bones, he put the same, if 
 
 * Macrob. 1. i. c. 7. 
 
 roL, II. 
 
 T 
 
138 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings^ or Tlafonds, 
 
 they had no wood, on the bones with other burning mixtures, in order to boil it ; 
 and, if they wanted the necessary kettles, they put the desh into the skin again, and 
 thus broiled it on the fire. This being done, the priest offered the victim to the god 
 they intended. But among all their victims the horse was the chief, which therefore 
 they dedicated to Mars ; whose temple, w hen damaged and decayed by rains, damp- 
 ness, and a bad climate, they retrieved in the following manner : — they gathered 
 many branches, twigs, and chips of trees, piling them into a large square heap, made 
 perpendicular on three sides, and sloping on the fourth, so as conveniently to step on : 
 in the middle of this heap they laid a large knife, not unlike the present Persian or 
 Turkish scyraitars ; which they imagined to be the true image of Mars^ whom they 
 worshipped and honoured with their offerings. 
 
 That the horse was anciently first sacrificed to Mar5, the histories of the Greeks 
 and Romans plainly evince. The annals of the latter testify, that they used to offer 
 yearly to him, in the Campus Wartius, on the 12th of December, a horse which had 
 won the prize in the race ; thereby beseeching the god to favour their warlike enter- 
 prizes with success. P ausanias veports,, Tyndarus, iaXhev Helena, who was 
 
 ravished by Paris and carried to Troy, having determined the utmost revenge, as- 
 sembled all the Grecian princes in conjunction with her consort M.enelaus, vowing by 
 the sacrifice of a horse, to revenge by the sword the affront put upon him and his 
 family. Some also pretend, that the aforesaid festival, kept on the 12th of Decem- 
 ber, has been celebrated on the 12th October, and that the name of October was given 
 to the horse appointed for those purposes. On which occasion a great contest one 
 time arose at Rome about the sacrificed horse’s head ; some insisting to have it on. 
 the Capitol, and others on a tower of the city, called M.amillia. The solemnities of 
 this rite were performed in the following manner : — on the 12th of October, they led 
 a fine horse, decked with garlands of greens, intermixed with flowers and leaves of 
 bread, through the streets and quarters of the town ; and, being arrived at the Campus 
 Martias, they there killed and offered him to Mar^, for obtaining prosperity and 
 fruitfulness. This was done to beseech the god to prevent ruinous war, in which 
 the cavalry causes the greatest damage and destruction to the product of the field ; 
 for it would be absurd to think that the Romans, who pretended to be descended 
 from the Trojans, should offer the horse to Mar^, after the Greek manner, and in con- 
 formity to the intention of Tyndarus, in order to be revenged of their ancestors ; 
 wherefore it was only for the reason aforesaid. The Lacedemonians, as Festus 
 affirms, had also a custom of offering a horse yearly on Mount Taygetus ; burning 
 him to ashes for the wind to scatter into all their towns, villages, and districts. And 
 mentions Macedonians sacrificed on the same Mount a horse to 
 
 the sun, in imitation of the Tersians. Xenophon asserts the same in his Memoirs* 
 
139 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings j or Plafonds. 
 
 wlien he relates, that they made Curio a present of a horse for that purpose ; know- 
 ing it was the custom of the Persians to honour the sun with such a victim. He says 
 further, that the Sarmatans bred horses for sacrifice and sustenance. The Salentines 
 likewise offered horses, and afterwards burnt them, in honour to Jupiter. The people 
 oi Rhodes offered to the sun a chariot with four beautiful horses : which they drove 
 into the sea to be swallowed up by the waves ; believing the sun ran round the world 
 equipped in that manner. We read in the heroic poems of Philostratus, that, in 
 order to overcome their enemies, they were obliged to offer to the sun a w'hite foal 
 who had never known the bridle or spur: this was done by the advice of Palamedes, 
 to buoy up and animate the Greeks, who, at the siege of Troy, were struck with 
 frights and fears at the sight of a sudden eclipse w^hich then happened. 
 
 Origines intimates, that the offering a bullock before the tabernacle, according to 
 the ancient Jewish rite, signified, that we must subdue all pride and haughtiness ; 
 and by a calf, the having overcome the ’weakness of the flesh. 
 
 The Bwolians had a custom of sacrificing to Neptune a bullock, called with them 
 Mucytei, or bellowing ; because his noise has some affinity with that of the billow^s 
 when violently agitated by the winds. The bullocks, which the priests selected for 
 that deity, ought to have dark hair, thereby to signify the dark depths of the water. 
 Wherefore many think, that the eagle is called by the Latins, Abuilla, froin the word 
 Aqua, as having a dark and blackish colour. For the same reason, the sea-gods are 
 usually presented with brown complexions, bluish hair and garments, and with full 
 chests and broad shoulders, like bullocks. As to the Taurii Ludi, or bull solemnities 
 in use among the ancient Romans, they were notinstituted by them in honour to Nep- 
 tune, but for the infernal gods, whom they believed were thereby moved to compas- 
 sion, when under Tarquinus Superbus, the city was afflicted with a plague, which 
 carried off abundance of women with child, andthepeople imputed the misfortune to 
 the eating the flesh of black bullocks. 
 
 T|ie sacrifices which the Roman censors used to offer every fifth year for their pu- 
 rification, and called Solitaurilla, consisted of a boar, a ram, and a bull. 
 
 The offering a bullock, as we gather from history, was generally, especially among 
 the a token of victory gained over the enemy: accordingly, ./MvewoZ says, 
 
 they led to the capitol a large black bullock marked with chalk. But here it must 
 be observed, that the Lacedemonians in some sort imitated the Romans in several of 
 their sacrifices of that nature ; for when the latter got a victory by slaughter and 
 taking the enemy prisoners, they offered a bullock ; but when without blood-shed, 
 a sheep. The Lacedemonians, contrarily, sacrificed a bullock, on obtaining a vic- 
 tory without cruelty or blood-shed ; and a cock when it was got in the open field, 
 
 T 2 
 
140 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 in a pitched battle, preferring eriterprizes performed with reason and conduct, to 
 those effected by main force. 
 
 We read likewise, that anciently, especially among the Romans, the bullock was 
 so much regarded, that it was as capital to kill one as to murder a citizen. Where- 
 fore ErichtJueus, reigning at Athens, ordered, that at the yearly festival, wherein a 
 bullock was sacrificed, ihepopa or priest (whose duty required him to furnish the 
 cattle, and cut their throats when knocked down) should, after the solemnity was 
 over, and in maintainance of the law, forsake the town, first leaving the ax at the 
 foot of tho altar. 
 
 The Thessalians were enjoined by the oracle oi Apollo 2X Dodone, to offer sacrifice 
 yearly on the, tomb of Achilles; and to fnrnish the necessaries from their own coun- 
 try ; namely, two tame bulls, one black, and the other white ; the wood from Mount 
 Pelion ; the fire out of Thessaly ; and flower and water from the river Sperchius. 
 With these were to be used garlands and festoons of greens, intermixed with ama- 
 ranths, that, in case the ships, bringing the necessaries from other countries should 
 be kept back by contrary winds, at least such greens and flowers that never wither, 
 might not be wanting to hang on the tomb. 
 
 Apollodorus and Athenceus relates, that Hercules was so great an eater, as often 
 to devour a whole bullock at a meal : for which reason, the ancients dedicated to 
 him the water-fowl, called by the Greeks \a^qq, ya English Sea-mew; because this 
 bird, according to Suidas, is very voracious ; nay, on account of this excess in eat- 
 ing, they brought him ofterings, whereby men were not allowed to use any other 
 expressions than cursing and swearing. Lactantiiis and Apollodorus relate the story 
 thus: Hercides on a time travelling with some companions through Rhodes, and 
 being very hungry, met with a country-man at plough with a couple of oxen, which 
 he desired to purchase for filling his belly ; but the man rejecting the profler, Her- 
 cules took the cattle by force, and with his companions eat them up. The other en- 
 raged and frantic hereat, cursed and swore at Hercules as he was eating ; who 
 laughed at and bantered him, saying he never eat a better morsel, or with more 
 taste in all his life. Wherefore the inhabitants of that island erected an altar to him 
 after his deification, whereon was carved a yoke of oxen ; oflering thereon, at certain 
 times, a couple of oxen ; at which solemnity the priests and people bustled about, 
 and made a great noise, by cursing, swearing, and other impieties, which they 
 thought would please the god, in remembrance of the adventure with the plough-man, 
 
 I must subjoin another sacrifice to the honour and memory of the deified Hercules, 
 not less foolish than ridiculous. Guides relates, that the Eceotians on a certain time 
 leading an ox for sacrifice, he broke loose, and ran away. Whereupon the mob, un- 
 
141 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 willing to delay the time for celebration, stuck an apple on four sticks, with two 
 smaller on top, representing four legs and two horns ; otFering this with great so- 
 lemnity to Hercules. Others ascribe this apple sacrifice, instead of an ox, to the 
 Athenians: and Julius Pollus testifies, that it was long in use among the Thebans. 
 Yet Pausanias in his Memoirs reports, that as the apple tree is sometimes accepted 
 bv the gods, in token of a propitious sacrifice, so the Bcsotians, at the ox’s running 
 away, offered to Hercules an apple tree, having but four branches instead of the four^ 
 legged beast ; whence it became afterwards customary to consecrate that tree to this 
 God. And Apollodorus affirms, according to Zenodotes, that those offerings of the 
 Hceotians were instead of rams and sheep. 
 
 The imploring help and favour by means of a bullock, remind me of a custom of 
 the ancient Scythians, now called Tartars, who, killing and stripping a bullock^ the 
 person who had received any injury from another took the skin, spread it on the 
 ground, and sat upon it with his hands behind him ; and those who, in passing by, 
 promised to give their assistance, trod on the skin with the right foot, thereby sig- 
 nifying the means they proposed to use for the injured person’s satisfaction. This 
 custom is largely described by Lucianus, treating of friendship under the name of 
 Toxaris. And, speaking of the homolots, he says. That when they designed in- 
 violably to engage themselves to each other, they killed an ox, and cut him into 
 small pieces, to give to people as they passed by : which custom is solemnly observed 
 by the Circassian Tartars inhabiting between the rivers Tamis and Phasis. And all 
 such passengers as get a piece of such an ox, think themselves so bound in friend- 
 ship, and so much obliged to the giver, as not to scruple hazarding either goods or 
 life in revenging the injury done to their friend. 
 
 The Athenians in thankful acknowledgment of the profitable labour of the ox, 
 stamped his image on their coin, called Didrachmum. Wherefore, we read in 
 Homer, and other writers, that they used to buy merchandizes by certain numbers 
 of oxen : as in the second Book of his Iliads he has it — “ Every thing of that kind 
 is sold for a hecatomb,” i. e. a hundred oxen : or, in better terms, for a hundred 
 pieces of gold or silver crown with their impress. 
 
 Pindarus mentions,t hat the Hyperboreans performed their hecatombs,* or great 
 sacrifices, to Apollo with asses ; wherefore Catlimachus says. That, that god took 
 delight in the killing a fat ass. 
 
 But the Egyptians hated this creature, not only for his dullness and stupidity, 
 but also for his skin mixed with brown and white, which they accounted abominable 
 
 * A Greek tvord, signifying an offering of a hundred beasts. 
 
142 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 and unfit to be offered to the gods. Accordingly, they abused him as much as 
 possible, flinging stones and clods of dirt and mud, and pricking him with sharp- 
 pointed sticks ; and when in the pursuit they found him on a convenient eminence 
 they made him roll down. Hence arose the comparative proverb applied to con- 
 temptible persons, The ass of Egypt, 
 
 These people were not the only ones who paid honour to the hog : other nations 
 have ranked it with their gods: for this creature was formerly sacred in Candia, 
 where they believed ihdX Jupiter, at his birth, sucked a sow, which by her grunting 
 entirely drowned the cries of the child ; though some will rather subscribe this 
 kindness to the goat of Amalthea. 
 
 The ancient Italian kings had a custom, to offer a hog in their nuptial solemnities : 
 and the great, in their nuptial feasts brought, according to the Tuscan manner, a 
 hog to the altar, consecrating it to the tutelar gods and presiders over new married 
 persons ; which was the general custom of the Greeks as well as of the Latins. 
 
 They of Argus celebrated the festival called Hysteries, by offering a hog in ho- 
 nour to Venus; of which Callimachus largely treats; though we find the Sicyonians 
 dedicated to her all kinds of beasts, as Aristophanes testifies, saying. They killed 
 a hog to offer to Venus. 
 
 They likewise oftered a hog to the goddess M.aja, (by whom is meant the earth, 
 thus called, according to Cornelius Labeo, as signifying greatness) because this crea- 
 ture makes great havoc among the corn and grain, and is very prone to tear up the 
 ground, as Horace says. The hogs love the mud ; for these beasts were sacrificed to 
 the gods, either on account of their likeness and agreement, or dissimularity and 
 aversion. Wherefore the poet mentions, that the hog was first offered to Ceres, for 
 the great mischief it did to the corn. Veranius says, They also offered a sow to 
 Ceres after a funeral, for purifying the family. 
 
 On making a peace, alliance, or truce, they offered a hog, as Virgil affirms. 
 He made the peace during the killing of a sow. Though Quintilian and Servius, 
 in their remarks, that Virgil means a hog, because in that solemnity w'as always 
 used a hog or boar. Suetonius, in the life ©f Claudius Ccesar, reports, that he made 
 ail alliance with the princes during the offering of a sow ; though Titius Livius speaks 
 likewise of a hog. 
 
 The Mosaic law enjoined the king or princes to offer for their sins a he-goat; 
 and those who had no public exployment, a she goat, or lamb. Aaron was com- 
 manded to offer for himself and family, a calf, as harmless, as righteous, and a he 
 goat for an offering. And we learn from Hesychius, bishop of Jerusalem, that the 
 High Priest, after having a he goat for a burnt offering, was allowed to go into the 
 Holy of Holies, clothed in a white linen coat, with the girdle of the same, and 
 
143 
 
 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 breeches and mitre of fine twined linen ; as signifying, that being reconciled to God, 
 purified in body and soul, chaste, sober, and righteous, filled with godly under- 
 standing, and the gifts of the Holy Spirit, he might enter into that place. 
 
 The offering he goats and sheep under the law, implies a mortifying and rooting 
 out all impurities and carnal lusts, as Adamantius explains it, and to which Cyril 
 agrees ; for scripture, hieroglyphically, commonly takes the he goat for men plunged 
 in impure, and all manner of extravagant desires ; as also plainly appears by our 
 Saviour’s words. When, at the last judgment, he will set the sheep or elect, with bless- 
 ings, on his right hand, and on the left those, who by sin are unworthy of his pity, 
 for eternal punishment. And after such a manner the goat was brought to atone 
 for sins, when the law commanded, that he should be presented alive before the 
 altar, and the high priest laying his hands on the head should confess over him all 
 the iniquities of the people, and put them on the head of this lascivious creature, 
 and then by a fit person send him away into the wilderness. They add, for con- 
 firmation, that the thick and rough hair of this beast is laid upon him as a burthen 
 of his lasciviousness. 
 
 The fables of the Greek poets tell us, that Hercules was the first who tamed the 
 lascivious he goat; meaning, that he overcame the wanton desires of the flesh. He 
 likewise first offered this beast to Jurio ; for, having vanquished Hippocoon, and 
 thereby irritated the goddess, he found no other victims at hand to appease her with, 
 as Pausa7iiast relates in his third book. But the Lacedemonians sacrificed to Diana, 
 called the Corythalian in the fields, goats flesh only, no other beast being allowed 
 in that solemnity. Wherefore Xenophon in his Memoirs reports, that when the Per- 
 sians iiiYe^ted Athens with a mighty force, intending to ruin it entirely, the Athenians 
 made a vow to Diana, to offer to her as many goats as they should defeat enemies, 
 in case they overcame them. 
 
 The poets likewise mention, that the goat was sacrificed to Bacchus, because he, 
 being the god of wine, could not be more acceptably honoured, than with the death 
 of a creature so noxious to vineyards dedicated to him. Wherefore the festival, 
 called Ascolia, were also celebrated in his honour; when they laid on the ground at 
 equal distances, sacks or bags of goats skins filled with wind, which being smeared 
 with oil or grease, they merrily to win the prize, leaped from one upon the pther, to 
 the no small delight and applause of the people. 
 
 The Roman ladies, on being delivered with twins, formerly offered to Juno (to 
 whom empires and riches were sacred) certain sheep, which, according to Behius 
 lAacer, were tied between two pair of lambs on each side. But the Sicyonians 
 custom was, to offer fat sheep, by them called Eumenides, to the gods of benevo- 
 lence and good hope, for the good luck and prosperity of their families. They like 
 
144 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 wise sacrificed to HerculeSy as god of riches and plenty, a sheep tied on four sticks 
 instead of a bullock, who ran away as they were leading him to the altar ; where- 
 fore he is called Melius, or Shepherd. But of this ridiculous offering I have said 
 enough before. 
 
 We gather from the Greek and Roman histories and antiquities, that they sacri- 
 ficed dogs, the former to Prosorpma, and the latter to Genetia. At the festival called 
 Lupercalia, sacred to the Lyccen idol Pan, the Romans offered the same, knowing 
 that the constant nature of dogs is to pursue wolves. Others think that this was 
 done in honour and remembrance of Romulus, who, they said, was in his infancy 
 laid in a wood, and brought up by a wolf. Some report that Evander first intro- 
 duced and established those solemnities. The people of Argos oftered dogs to 
 the goddess Cyonia, to whom they ascribed the power of giving women in labour 
 a happy delivery. The Lacedemonians consecrated those creatures to Mars for 
 their eagerness and alacrity in falling on deer. For the young men in their warlike 
 exercises used to begin with sacrificing a little dog to Mars, as the strongest and 
 most valiant of the gods, judging that creature to be the most acceptable of the 
 tame and sociable animals. The Augures, a sort of priests among the Romans, also 
 often sacrificed a kind of red dogs befoge the town gate, called from thence Catu- 
 laria, or dogs-gate, that the heat of the dog-days in July and August might not burn 
 or spoil the trees and fruits of the earth. 
 
 The inhabitants of Methone annually offered a cock for the prosperity of the vine- 
 yards, and for averting the violent South-east winds ; for when this wind rises in 
 the blossoming time of the vines, its malignity kills the young shoots, and frustrates 
 the hope of a future vintage : wherefore the Augures of that tract of land found it 
 proper to order, that two young men, chosen for that purpose, should at a certain 
 place take a white cock, and each holding a. leg above the spur, by parting pull 
 him to pieces ; and then with the piece of the cock in their hands, running round 
 the vineyards, one to the right, the other to the left, till having as they thought made 
 an atonement, they met again at the place where the cock was torn to pieces, and 
 there buried him. By blind luck, it sometimes fell out that, as long as they observed 
 the solemnity, the issue of things answered their desire. 
 
 The ancient Romans also used annually to sacrifice a hen to JEsculapius, the god 
 of health. 
 
 The duck, on account of its voracious nature, was by the Bceotians sacred to 
 Hercules (whom they judged the greatest eater), as the most acceptable to him. 
 
 And, according to Zenodotus, the Phoenicians offered a quail to the same god, be- 
 cause it once saved his life. 
 
 The people of Gyrene ascribed great honour in husbandry to Saturn ; saying, he 
 
145 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds. 
 
 was the inventor of planting, grafting, pruning, and dunging: wherefore, in his so- 
 lemnities, they wore on their heads chaplets of fresh figs, as well on account of their 
 being food, as dainty taste. 
 
 The Egyptians offered annually, on the 19th day of the first month, honey and 
 figs, in honour of Mercury y celebrating this feast with great noise, and crying, Oh ! 
 how sweet and agreeable is truth. 
 
 The ancient Gauls worshipped Hercules as the god of prudence, and, as Lucia- 
 nus says. Eloquence, even more than Mercury: [because eloquence is accounted 
 more consummate in aged men (as Hercules is generally represented) than in the 
 young : wherefore they offered to him, as the Egyptians did to Mercury y honey and 
 figs : moreover, all who ministered held a fig-tree branch in their hands, and they, 
 as well as the priests, had their heads adorned with poplar leaves. Virgil like- 
 wise mentions, that Evandet'y offering to this god, had a chaplet of the same leaves 
 about his head, calling them Hercules leaves. And Macr.ohius says, that the ancient 
 solemnities to Satur?t and Hercules were performed bare-headed ; but in those to 
 other gods the priests heads were covered. 
 
 The ancient Homans offered to the goddess Camay to whom they ascribed the 
 support of the animal spirits in human bodies, bacon, and the greens of beans, 
 whereby men are made strong and hearty for labour. And it is certain that those 
 people called the first day of JunCy FabaricBy or Bean’s-day, because that oblation 
 was instituted by Junius BrutuSy of whom this month has also borrrowed its name. 
 Festus Pompeius says, that the Romans annually offered to Vidcan in JunCy at the 
 feast called the Fishing games, a sort of fish for the souls of men ; because the an- 
 cient philosophers hieroglyphically represented the souls by fishes ; and, as Philo 
 says. Because they consist of a pure element, and God created them the first of all 
 living creatures. 
 
 Vincent Cartari relates another custom of the RomanSy That, after a victory ob- 
 tained, they piled all the shields and other weapons of the enemy in a heap, and 
 burnt them as an oblation to Vulcan : which was done, says ServiuSy in imitation 
 of Tarquinius PriscuSy who, having overcome the Sabines, burnt all their weapons 
 in honour of the same god ; and as Evander mentions in Virgil, he did when young, 
 and had gotten the victory at Prceneste. 
 
 The Egyptians offered to Isis loaves and apples. And the ancient Sicilians, acorns 
 and flour to Ceres, The heathenish priests offered to the nymphs, or water and field 
 goddesses, white lilies, on account of their purity. As Serapis is reputed by the 
 Egyptians the god of riches, or the productions of the earth, being the inventor of 
 sowing and tillage ; he is therefore by them represented with a basket of fruits of 
 
 VOL, II. u 
 
146 
 
 Of the Fainting of Ceilings^ or Plafonds, 
 
 the earth on his head. Even his offerings, v/hether of meat, bread, fruits, or flow^s, 
 were carried in basketB. 
 
 We see that the jug is commonly sacred to Osiris, not only on account of his^ 
 being master and inventor of wine, but also of all moisture ; wherefore be is called 
 Ocean, and Isis, Thetis; for it was the custom to carry a jng in the procession of 
 the offerings, thereby to shew their veneration for this god, keeping a large one in 
 particular esteem, to carry it covered with great solemnity to the temple; where 
 being arrived, they kneeled down, and with lifted up hands thanked the god for 
 his loving-kindness to men ; as believing that all things were brought forth by 
 moisture. 
 
 In a certain place in Greece they worshipped Myngrus, god of the flies ;; when the 
 people offered to him all the flies retired from those parts. 1 he Oyvenenses in Lybia 
 also honoured the god of flies, called Achor, making offerings to him for stopping 
 the plague, which sometimes was occasioned by the multitude of those insects. 
 
 Anciently they offered red wine instead of blood. For Moses, in his song in 
 Deuteronomy, says, “ And thou didst drink the pure blood of the grape.” And 
 David, in his Psalms, “ They have drank the blood of the grape.” Indeed, the 
 ■Egyptian priests, some of whom were kings, entirely abstained from wine, but 
 always used it in their offerings, not as an acceptableness to heaven, but to signify 
 the blood and punishment of those who rebelled against the gods, and thereby to 
 obtain favour and reconciliation ; for the Egyptians firmly believed that wine sprang 
 from the blood of the discomfitted giants, wdiich, on their rising against the gods, 
 and threatening to storm heaven, was spilt on the earth, and therefore made men 
 commit all manner of extravagancies: they also intimated by the wine-press, per- 
 secution, adversity, vexation, and oppression. 
 
 The Romans, on the other hand, celebrated the feast of Mercury with milk only, 
 to express thereby the sweetness of eloquence. Those rites were performed at 
 Rome, in the street called Sohrius, or Sober, because wine has many strange effects, 
 as, disclosing of secrets, running rashly into dangers, weakness of the legs, faulter-' 
 ing of the tongue, wandering senses, and other imperfections. 
 
 The gods were moreover worshipped in the offerings, not only with the slaughter- 
 of beasts, but also with festoons and garlands of flowers, and with the tinkling 
 noise of copper and iron instruments, tabors, harmonious sounds, hautboys, pipes, &c. 
 
 To finish this chapter, let me add, that anciently it was the custom of many 
 nations to make, on the face of the altar, a circle or ring with the blood of the 
 victim, carefully and with great devotion saving it in a vessel for that purpose. This 
 solemnity they called by a word, which signifies, Making perfect, saying. That the 
 round was the most perfect of all figui'es. 
 
Of the Fainting of Ceilings, or Flafonds. 
 
 147 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 or THE SACERDOTAL DRESSES, VESSELS, AND OTHER MATERIALS 
 
 BELONGING TO OFFERINGS. 
 
 To make the preceding chapter more complete, I thought it necessary to say some- 
 thing here of the sacerdotal dresses, vessels, &c. believing it may be of service 
 to the curious artists, whose constant employments will not always allow them to 
 peruse the authors treating of those matters. 
 
 When the Egyptian priests, for the sins of the people, put up prayers for avert- 
 ing the wrath of God, they were dressed in black, to signify that mortals proceed- 
 ing from usual earth, besought and entreated that invisible Being, on a belief that 
 no other coloured dress was more proper. 
 
 It is likewise a general custom of the principal and most polite nations to dress 
 in black at times of humiliation, and those who mourn make use of the same co- 
 lour ; wiierefore, Varro calls them Anthracini, or as black as coals. 
 
 The Arcadimis worshipped Ceres, goddess of the fruits of the earth, in black 
 clothes : and the priests of the idol Falacer, to whom they attributed the care and 
 inspection of the fruils of the trees, wore commonly black caps ; but in their so- 
 lemnities all black. The black was also dedicated to Pluto, and in offering to him 
 the priests were in this colour, believing that it best suited the hellish or subter- 
 ranean gods. 
 
 Herodotus, to shew that the heathens agree with the present opinion concerning 
 the signification of cleanliness, testified that the ^Egyptians did not allow the wear- 
 ing in their temples any clothes made of wool, but they had white linen garments. 
 Tertullimi, speaking of our Saviour, therefore says, As he is dressed in the garb 
 of white linen, it is the same with that of Osiris. And Plutarch treating of Isis 
 and Osiris, takes this to be the reason why the priests make use only of white linen 
 garments, to signify that all clean and undefiled things best agree with the nature 
 of the Gods, wdiose pure and sacred Majesty, according to Plato, ought not to be 
 worshipped by things impure and filthy. And as linen is the clearest dress, and 
 can be very easily washed and made beautiful, so it was thought the most becom- 
 ing the sacerdotal dignity and purity. And, indeed, the Magii, or priests of the 
 ancient Persians said, That God took delight in white garments ; which assertion 
 seems to be borrowed from Solomon, w^ho, in his exhortations to good and blame- 
 less manners, and a pure conscience, says — Let your garments be always white; 
 
 u 2 
 
348 Of the Painting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 as if he meant, — Take heed, in all your actions, not to be defiled v/ith evil and un- 
 cleanness.” 
 
 The priestly vestment called Poderis, from the Greek words Pode, in English, 
 Feet, was of fine white linen, setting close to the body, and hanging down to the 
 feet. Ancient divines say. That thereby they signified the most holy and mysterious 
 doctrine. This was the undermost covering, as we find in Exod. xxxix. And 
 they made coats of fine wove linen, and their garment called Hypodytes of 
 Hyacinth Colour, intimating heavenliness, and that men ought to raise their 
 minds, thoughts, and faculties thither, forsaking what is earthly. The priests also 
 wore under their coats, breeches of fine twined linen, covering their privities and 
 thighs, as an admonition to dress and appear in chastity. They were likewise 
 enjoined by the offortorial law to be girt with a girdle embroidered with blue, pur- 
 ple, and scarlet, hieroglyphically implying Fortitude, Strength, and Virtue. 
 
 The Romish priests use, to this day, white linen garments in their service, as did 
 also Appolonius Eyaneus, to whom they seemed more agreeable with cleanliness, 
 than others woven of foul and greasy wool. 
 
 The shoes of the JEgyptiun priests were not made of other matter than the bark 
 of trees ; so cautious were they in avoiding the least appearance of unchastity and 
 uncleanness. Accordingly, and with respect to purity, it was a great crime among 
 the Roman priestesses, called Flaminicce, to wear shoes of skins of beasts which 
 died natural deaths, superstitiously believing it to be abominable ; but they ap- 
 proved of such as were made of offered beasts skins. Our Saviour himself com- 
 manded his disciples not to wear shoes ; that being with all speed to publish ever- 
 lasting life, they might entirely forsake what is corruptible. Moses also leaving the 
 JEigyptianhoiiddige, wore shoes of beasts skins, intimating his affinity with mortality; 
 but afterwards as he grew in strength and virtue, and was to serve the Almighty, he 
 was commanded to pull them off. 
 
 The M>gyptian priests adorned their heads with hawk’s feathers, thinking to 
 owe this honour to that bird, because, as they say, he formerly brought the 
 priests of Thehes, in Mgypt, a book written in red letters, containing the manners 
 of worshipping the gods, and many of the principal rites to be observed in their 
 offerings ; wherefore the Latin poets, according to Martial, call those priests 
 copped or crested. 
 
 It would be needless to say more touching the sacred dresses, such as the mitre, 
 bonnet, ephod, and other ornaments, since they and every thing else relating to the 
 priesthood are amply described by Goeree in his Jewish antiquities. Wherefore, 
 after having touched on the hair of the priests, we shall only treat of the ancient 
 Roman priesthood. 
 
149 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Tlafonds. 
 
 It was formerly the greatest scandal and indignity for a man to have his hair 
 cut off: and possibly Moses therefore commanded the priests not to have their 
 beards or hair taken off with a razor, but clipped with scissors, to distinguish them 
 from those of the ^Egyptians, who, after the death of Apis, deified and worshipped 
 by them, had not only their heads, but their whole bodies shaved, that in their sa- 
 crifices they might be pure. Moreover according to Bede, in his Church-history^ 
 by shaving the head is meant a renouncing superfluous riches (which priests, by 
 their institution, are punctually to observe) and that hair is to be accounted but as 
 a superfluity of the body. And in this sense speaks Hieronymus, that as the 
 priest has his head shaved, so he o*.ght also to cut and cast off superfluous riches 
 and earthly desires, and that by the little hair left is signified, that they must be 
 content with small provision for supporting their mortal bodies. Others add, that 
 the little hair left on their heads, in the form of a crown, denotes the crown of eter- 
 nity, with which, after their conflicts, they were to be rewarded. 
 
 But as for the law commanding to cut the hair round and to shave the beard, 
 many think it proceeded from the abominable abuse of the heathens, who offered 
 their own ’hair, and that of their children, to the devil. 
 
 On the other hand, divers councils decreed, that the priests, in imitation of the 
 Nazarites, should keep their hair and beards, and let them grow, with intention 
 that, by seeing and feeling the same, they might always remember their duties. 
 Wherefore they did not shave, but clip their hair with scissors, that it might not 
 over-grow. But to return to the Romans. 
 
 Numa Pompilius, their second king and a priest, when he could no longer alone 
 bear the weight of the government, and discharge the duties of the priesthood, 
 instituted three priests called Flamines; the first in honour to Jupiter Capitolinus; 
 the second to Mars; and the third to Roinulus Quirinus. Their dress was much 
 like that of the present Romish clergy in their service. On their heads they had a 
 white hat, with an olive sprig upon it, at the extremity whereof appeared a turf of 
 wool taken from a sacrificed sheep. This hat was called Albogolerus. 
 
 Afterwards Numa ordained twelve other priests, called Salii, in honour to Mars 
 the conqueror, protector, avenger, and peace maker. These were dressed in long 
 loose garments or coats, having a breast-piece of copper enriched with gold, silver, 
 and divers precious stones. The solemnities growing numerous, and at length 
 amounting to above thirty thousand, Numa increased the number of priests accord- 
 ingly. He created the Feciales, and Pater Patratas, who proclaimed war; also the 
 Epulones, or overseers of all sacred banquets, and Augures or soothsayers, whose 
 authority was so great, that the Senate could not assemble without their consent. 
 They had all particular garbs, except when they officiated, at which time their dress 
 
150 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds. 
 
 was alike, being a garment of v, kite linen, very wide, and reaching to their heels, girt 
 with a girdle and buckle about their bodies. This garment they called Gabinus. 
 
 And as Fidelity ought to be close, that is, the matters we are instrusted with must 
 be kept secret, pure, and inviolable, Numa ordered that the high-priest, in offering 
 to Fidelity, should keep his right hand covered with a white garment, as Teriullian 
 observes, to signify that Sincerity ought to be preserved simple and upright, and that 
 it is sacred to the right hand, since we are to assert it with alacrity. F^r^^^ikewise 
 intimates, that the firmness of Sincerity is signified by the right hand, as a pledge 
 or assurance: wherefore Dido, in his fourth iEiieid, complains — “ Alas! These are 
 the gilded words and promises of the son, who, as is said, carries with him sacred 
 things and household gods.” And in his third iEneid we read — “ Father Anchises 
 himself gives the dejected youth Achemenides the right hand, as a token of liis sin- 
 cerity to him.” And, in another place, Amata says to Latinus — “ Where is your sin- 
 cerity? Were the former care for your kindred, and your word and hand so often 
 given to your nephew TurnusF Virgil also calls Fidelity white and grey; meaning, 
 according to Servius, that sincerity is most found in old people, who are grey and 
 white. Horace complaining of the wickedness of his own times, says. That Sincerity 
 dressed in white is little worshipped : adding, that in the offering to it, the High- 
 priest keeps not only the right hand covered with the white garment, but also his 
 head, and almost his whole body, to shew that the heart and will ought to be pure 
 and immaculate, and always to accompany sincerity. Wherefore Arista also says. 
 Sincerity w as formerly represented in a white dress. 
 
 Petronius reports that Numa himself, for a badge of priesthood, wore a small linen 
 cap, like the priests and soothsayers in their services ; as did likewise the wives and 
 maid-servants of the Roman priests, called Flamines. 
 
 The hat, also, among the ancient Romans, denoted the sacerdotal dignity; for the 
 Flamines took their names from Pileus or hat, as if they w^ould say, Pileamines : though 
 others are of opinion, their name ife derived from Flammeum, which among them was 
 a head ornament; for the bishop-like caps, long coats, and garments, were, as I have 
 said, peculiar to the priests. The authority and credit of the illustrious Fabius 
 Pictor induces us to believe this, when he says. That the priests, or Flamines, were 
 not allowed to appear publicly without the hat or cap, but that in their houses they 
 W'ere at their own liberty. A custom to this day strictly observed in many places 
 by the Romish prelates. 
 
 Infula was a fine white linen garment, wnth which the priest and victim were co- 
 vered. 
 
 When the vestal virgins offered, they were dressed in a long and wide vestment 
 of very fine white linen, called Sussibulum. Their heads were likewise wound 
 
151 
 
 Of the Tainting of Ceilings, or Plafonds, 
 
 with a white garment, and over it was a veil of white linen hanging down square, 
 and coming over their cheeks, and fastened under the chin with a clasp or buckle ; 
 wherefore they were called Vestals, from the word Vestis. The Romish women 
 wear to this day long veils, pretending to imitate the virtuous ancient matrons, who 
 covered their heads, necks, and breasts with them, and kept themselves so chaste 
 and reserved, as never to separate from their husbands, nor giving the least opportu- 
 nity for evil. 
 
 Besides the before-mentioned dresses, the priests had divers implements, and sa- 
 cred vessels for offerings, viz. 
 
 Praifericulum, a vessel of brass, wide on top, and without a handle. 
 
 Patinu, or Patera, a dish or platter, whereon the priests saved the blood of the 
 victims. 
 
 Achana, another small vessel in the form of a cup, in which they saved the drop- 
 pings of llie wane at the offerings. 
 
 Acerra, was a small box in which the perfume was kept. 
 
 Enclabris^ was fhe table whereon lay thf sacred things ; whence the utensils, and 
 other materials for the ofi'erings, were called Enciahria. On this table tJiey laid, the 
 beast fo be offered, cut open ami stretched out, carefully turning with a knife, and 
 inspecting the entrails, to wit, heart, lungs, and liver, in order to prognosticate future 
 events to the common and silly people. Piusanias reports, that the observed 
 
 the same niethods in their sacridces-; 
 
 Cecespila, so calie<b a Secando,, from cutting, was a pretty long knife, having a 
 round ivory handle tipped with gold and silver, and studded with copper. With 
 this they cut tlie victim’s throat. 
 
 Struppi was a bundle of herbs, called Verhana, mixed with laurel, myrtle, and 
 olive sprigs. They were of opinion, thatthese presaged happiness and prosperity in 
 their offerings ; they even used them in their purifications, filling also and making 
 pillows thereof for their imagined deities. 
 
 Aspergillum, or holy-water-sprinkle, was made of sprigs and leaves of hyssop, 
 which in a marble vessel, called Lahrum, they placed at the entrance of their tem- 
 ples (according to the present Romish custom), and with which they sprinkled the 
 by-standers and congregation. 
 
 They had divers other rites, which for brevity I shall pass over. What I have 
 said is only to let artists see how diligently they ought to consult history, that by that 
 means they may in their productions follow antiquity in all its particulars, and so 
 duly ordered and represent things, that lovers may say with applause — nothing is 
 wanting. 
 
 END OF BOOK IX. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF FAINTING. 
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 OF STATUARY. 
 
 EMBLEM CONCERNING STATUARY. 
 
 A YOUNG and sturdy maid, having a hard look, stands with her right leg on a 
 square plinth, and the left on a globular body. Her garment is light grey, fastened 
 above the knee with a button, and tucked up behind. Before, she has a sheep’s- 
 fleece tied about her waist. Her sleeves are turned up above the elbows. On her 
 left arm she holds the figure of Decorum ; and in that hand a chisel, pair of com- 
 passes, line, and square; and in the other a mallet. Her locks and tresses are 
 tied behind with a broad fillet, which comes about the head, whereon appears a 
 small altar, and an eagle grasping thunder. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF STATUARY IN GENERAL. 
 
 Before we proceed to the qualities and operations of Statuary, we shall, as an in- 
 troduction, say somewhat of its antiquity. 
 
 Dcedalus^ as famous for architecture as statuary, was of royal extraction. Cad- 
 mus himself, to whom Thehes owes its rise, was a king’s son. As those sciences 
 then take their origin from the ancient Greeks, I shall not trace their inventors down 
 to the remains of the Israelites, nor to those who bestowed their art on the costly 
 and magnificent temple of Solomon, the cherubims, and ornaments of the ark, or the 
 vessels consecrated to worship : Scripture is so express in these things, that we 
 must be convinced, these arts were also in great use at that time. 
 
Of Statuary i 153 
 
 The vast pains is known, which the children of Seth took in engraving* and trans- 
 mitting to posterity their inventions and skill in astronomy on two columns ; one 
 made of baked clay, and the other of stone, in order that that art, threatened with 
 ‘destruction by the flood and violent waters, might remain entiie to futuie ages , and 
 that after the flood Prometheus, son of Japhet, was the first inventor of images, 
 which has given rise to all the fables and fictions of the poets. Assyrims and 
 
 Chaldeans had knowledge in statuary, as we gather from Lahan^ having household 
 gods, which his daughter stole from him ; and afterwards from the Jews 
 
 making a golden calf in the Wilderness, by Mount Smai, for worship. 
 
 The heathens’ applied themselves to inquiries into arts with very good success. 
 Ninus, ^onoi Belus, in Scripture called iVmrod, the first king of immor- 
 
 talized his father’s memory, by building to his honour a temple embellished with 
 statues, and especially with the idol Baal, in order to be worshipped. The obe- 
 lisks, or pyramids, brought to Rome by Augustus out of Egypt, are standing 
 deuces of the greatness of that people in their works. 
 
 The ancient statuaries instruct us in a thousand pretty inventions and circum- 
 stances ill history, which they unriddle ; teaching us the customs, worship, different 
 dresses, arms, &c. of the ancients ; things very well worthy of our study. 
 
 It is likewise not for want of judgment that the antique statues are proposed to 
 us as the most perfect models of elegance and symmetry, because the age wherein 
 Alexander lived was the most perfect we know of for carrying arts and sciences 
 through the emulation of that time, to the highest degree of perfection : in order to 
 which, they began with painting and statuary, framing some patterns, from whence 
 might be laid down certain and positive rules, not to be departed from without 
 spoiling order and beauty. The famous statuaries of those times therefore employed 
 their whole wits in prosecuting the work unanimously, and endeavoured to make 
 exact inquiries into the beauty of nature, and what shape and proportion the several 
 parts of the body ought to have, in order to form thereout an entire perfect and har- 
 monious whole I yet it being impossible for them to bring all the collected parts into 
 one and the same object, they concluded to choose the principal and most beau- 
 -tiful parts out of several bodies, in order to compose from them different perfect 
 £gures, to serve posterity for patterns and models. 
 
 VOL. n. 
 
 X 
 
154 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF THE EXECUTION OF STATUARY. 
 
 Statuary is an imitation of nature, performing its work by a strong motion of the 
 body and dexterity of the hands. It consists in the symmetry or exact division 
 of the objects, according to the particular qualities, especially in human figure 
 (wherein it most excels), and next in quadrapeds ; all relieved and conformable to 
 the life. 
 
 Its other performance concerns the bass-relief, or half round work, according to 
 its different qualities, as we shall hereafter explain. 
 
 The materials for statuary are of five sorts, and each of a particular nature and 
 quality. 
 
 The first is clay. 
 
 The second, wax. 
 
 The third, wood. 
 
 The fourth, ivory. 
 
 The fifth, stone. 
 
 The two first are worked with wooden tools, and the rest with sharp irons; and 
 each material requires a particular handling. From the first, something is taken 
 off ; to the second, something is added ; in the third, is cutting ; in the fourth, scrap- 
 ing ; and in the last, driving, or thrusting, according to the nature of the matter, 
 either soft or hard, solid, dry, or brittle. 
 
 In a human figure, or other creature, statuary first sketches its thoughts on 
 paper, making choice of the most beautiful side, and then takes clay, and sets those 
 conceptions upright, and as like the design as possible. The figure being now 
 roughed out with the proper tools, or rather with the fingers, the life is set to the same 
 posture, in order to finish after it ? and being brought to this forwardness, the artist 
 proceeds gradually round, till all sides are finished, and nothing is wanting. The 
 work standing in this condition for some time to dry, is afterwards baked in an 
 oven, and then may serve as a model for carving in marble or other matter. 
 
 The essence of this art lies in a beautiful form, and a neat or distinct representa- 
 tion of the things we would make, whether human figures, beasts, or other objects ; 
 of which, the principal are figures and bass-relief. 
 
 The first considers man, woman, and child, of all ages : as likewise portraits or 
 busts. 
 
 The second respects the horse, camel, elephant, lion, and other beasts. And, 
 
Of Statuary, 155 
 
 The last regards the peacock, eagle, raven, owl, and other such creatures occur- 
 ring in this art ; all requiring an exact knowledge. 
 
 Seeing therefore that so many things are necessary to be understood, I think it 
 of the last consequence, that the artist, before he begin sculpture, be well acquainted 
 with the grounds Of drawing, and for two reasons ; first, in hopes of honour and 
 advantage ; and secondly, for fear of prejudice and reproach. These two consider- 
 ations always attend the master, and one of them unavoidably depends on his know- 
 ledge and performance. For as the work is of great consequence and charge, as 
 well in the materials as tools, and slow process, so if it succeed w ell, it brings repu- 
 tation and gain, otherwise, greater loss and blame. 
 
 A true artist ought not to be without the following works, viz. The statues of 
 Perriea, — the Iconology of Ccesar RipUy — Oudaan's Roman Might, and other books 
 of antiquities ; also the principal histories, but chiefly, Res Characteres des Pas- 
 sions, by Monsieur de la Chambre, and other authors on the same subject ; together 
 with those of dresses, and of beasts and other animals. And for practice, he ought 
 to be furnished with plaister figures, bass-reliefs, medals, busts, hands and feet, lions 
 and lionesses, sphinxes, terms, and many other things, w hich are to be bought ; as 
 likewise models of wax and clay, and fin paper. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 OF BASS-RELIEFS. 
 
 That I may proceed in an orderly manner, I shall begin with bass-reliefs, of which 
 there are three sorts, viz. almost relief, half relief, and faint, or flat : and the differ- 
 ence of these ought to be well considered, as they have three particular intentions in 
 their proportions or divisions. 
 
 The first sort, or almost relief, is commonly used in deep niches, with figures in 
 full proportion, having three grounds behind one another ; the foremost figures are 
 almost relief, the second half relief, and the third somewhat less. 
 
 The second sort, or half relief, is used in shallow square niches, frontispieces, cir- 
 cular-headed upper doors, and niches. This has two grounds or depths ; the first is 
 Half relief, and the second somewhat fainter. 
 
 The third sort is proper for friezes, pedestals, balustrades, and medals. This has 
 but one depth, or a single figure on one ground. 
 
 In their arrangement, four things are to be observed. 
 
 1. That the principal figure of the work have its full relief, and those of the least 
 consequence most faint, and sticking to the ground. 
 
 X 2 
 
156 
 
 Of Statmrij. 
 
 2. That the greatest motion and action of the figures be alv/ayg in profile, yet 
 without any fore-shortening of the members^ 
 
 3. That the setting on of the projecting parts appear natural,, not. forced. 
 
 4. That the work be equally divided and distributed every where alike, not top 
 full in one part, and too empty in another ; which is a point of great importance. 
 
 Although these bass-reliefs seem chiefly to concern statuaries, yet they as much af- 
 fect painting, on account of the particular relation the two arts have to each other, 
 in that one cannot be perfect without the other. The statuary borrows from the 
 painter the design or disposition for the ground of his work, which he afterwards puts 
 in practice : the painter, on the other hand, learns of the statuary the method of mo- 
 delling, as necessarily serving for a foundation in the performance of bass-relief. 
 Wherefore 1 think a painter cannot possibly paint a good one, unless he understand 
 something of modelling ; nor a good statuary give satisfaction, without having some 
 skill in painting. 
 
 A judicious master ought to be exact in ordering these bass-reliefs, that each re- 
 ceiving its proper light, all may appear distinct, and without the least alteration. 
 Sun-shine or sharp shades make things look otherwise than they really are, by the 
 mis-shapen ground-shades which on these occasions are seen in nature; when the 
 work being much raised, has many deep hollows. 
 
 A large and universal light is most advantageous for the first sort, or almost 
 relief. 
 
 A light somewhat more from the side is most proper for the second, or half-relief; 
 because it has but few risings, and the work is therefore more free from ground- 
 shades. And, 
 
 A direct side light is best for the third or fainter sort, as giving it great decorum 
 and elegance, though it be almost without shade. 
 
 This doctrine concerning the light may possibly seem strange to some, viz. that it 
 ought to be governed by the bass-reliefs, or pictures which are to stand or hang in it, 
 according as they are more or less relieved. But we must conceive, that a proper 
 light ought to be chosen for each sort of bass-relief, from this consideration, that 
 the light is not equally good every where : here suits a bass-relief in a deep niche, 
 there one less rising, and here again one that is quite flat ; the one being thus lighted 
 from a-side, and the other fronting. Nevertheless, it must not be thought, that ac- 
 cording to the make of the room, the disposition of the windows, and the places 
 fixed for a niche on each side of the chimney, it is in our choice to have in one of 
 those a bass-relief of three grounds, and in the other one of two grounds, or one ; 
 because that which is nearest to the windows receives a more fronting light than the 
 other: wherefore they ought to be alike hollow and raised. By a proper light, we 
 
157 
 
 Of Statuary. 
 
 mean that the work must be so ordered, that each part, according to its light, get a 
 good decorum. For instance, in the former niche, where the figures are much raised, 
 they cannot give such large ground-shades, since the light falls on them a little front- 
 ing, but it may happen in the other, where the light comes more from the side ; un- 
 less you placed the figures which in one niche are on the right side, in the other on 
 the left, thereby to prevent the superfluous shades, elegantly reconcile the difference 
 
 of the lights. 
 
 The bass-reliefs in shallow niches with two grounds, require as nice an observation 
 and the same conduct as is necessary in friezes, pedestals, and medals. 
 
 Many err in placing bass-reliefs in friezes of chimneys, on pedestals and over room- 
 doors, even upon the breast-work of the chimney itself, setting there more than half 
 relieved, nay, whole relieved figures; as I once saw an almost relief on a single 
 ground in a chimney-frieze. In my opinion, it is very improper to make figures of 
 nine inches length so very distant from;each other, and so little draperied (sometimes 
 a figure has scarce three or four folds) ; the work looking then, (to speak in paintei- 
 like terms) more like a smooth dead-colouring, or rather old and worn out, than new 
 made^ and should by right be executed as faint and fine again. I have observed that 
 painters, in representing bass-reliefs in such places, avoid all large shades as much 
 as possible, especially in friezes, pedestals, and other flats ; it being, in my opinion, 
 very proper that those parts of architecture keep their flatness ; and as all ornaments, 
 viz. capitals, foliage, modillions, triglyphs, and the like, are in such case commonly 
 performed neat and curious, so our figures ought likewise to be perfectly finished. 
 
 Some keep too much to the great manner : but the smaller the things are, espe- 
 cially within doors and near, the neater they must be : for without-doors the case is 
 different, because they receive light from all sides, and are less set off, be they 
 ever so much raised. Wherefore statuary joined to architecture, in such manner as 
 it ought to be, is the business of a judicious artist, and for which no one is qualified 
 without great practice. 
 
 As this study concerns a painter as well as a statuary, I shall shew the former in 
 how many different manners a bass-relief may be painted : and seeing the most ex- 
 peditious is always the besfl I shall lay down that which by experience I have found 
 to be the best. 
 
 First, I paint my cloth neat and even with such a colour as my bass-relief requires, 
 whether white, grey, red, yellow, &c. between light and shade, or in second tint. 
 Drawing my composition on this ground, I correctly and strongly trace it over with 
 black lead, and after rub it with a dry cloth, that it may stic,v fast, and resist the var- 
 nish without muddling. Thhen I varnish it all over and proceed to painting; first 
 the sliade^ and then, the second tint against it; leaving the ground for the light,, and 
 
158 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 uniting' th6 shade with the second tint ainly, without softening them with a filch, I 
 scumble the second tint, either with a finger or stiff pencil into the ground. Then I 
 take another tint, as dark as my model directs, and with it give a ground behind my 
 figures, leaving the work on the right side without the least relief. Being to finish, I 
 rub the whole work, or as much as I can do at once, with a lighter tint than the first 
 ground, and so very thin and even, that every thing may appear through it ; observ- 
 ing here, that the white must be very stiff, and thinned only with turpentine. On 
 this wet ground I clap my main lights, w hich then, as well as the shades, will gradu- 
 ally unite with it, without touching each other. 
 
 The second and third sorts may be easily finished up at once (the re-touching ex- 
 cepted), as having neither ground-shades nor hollows ; the method is this. My cloth 
 being prepared as aforesaid, I first heighten, scumbling the main light into the wet 
 ground, which by the running of the turpentine oil, is become somewhat tacky : I 
 do the same with the shade, leaving the ground in this condition for the second tint. 
 If the work is to be very neat, I rub it over with a good varnish mixed with some fat 
 w hite oil, that it may not dry so soon, and that I may with ease, and as long as I 
 please paint upon it, heightening on the most relieved parts, and giving dark touches 
 in the hollows, scumbling also here and there some smalt with a soft fitch, and some 
 yellow in the reflections of the shades. If the back-ground ought to be a little darker, 
 now is the time for doing it, because then it will no more go in. 
 
 The last sort needs no other ground than the first; and it ought to be neat and 
 clean ; because the light on one side, and the shade on the other, make the work re- 
 lieve and rise sufficiently; yet, let us observe, that as often as we paint or re-touch, 
 it must be rubbed over with varnish, or at least where necessary, to prevent its going 
 in: for such is the nature of varnish, that it will bear but one painting; otherwise 
 the work sinks presently. 
 
 We shall now shew what is to be observed in painting figures in deep niches; a 
 work not to be performed either with respect to the figures or ground-shades, with- 
 out due knowledge in perspective, whatever applause ignorants may get from those 
 who do not understand it. 
 
 His blunder w^as great, who painting a figure in a niche with a stick in his hand, 
 shewed the ground shade of the stick very plainly on the hollow of the niche, but 
 gave none to the leg which supported the body, save a little on the plinth next the 
 foot. Most sad conduct ! Another simple young fellow, seeing his master paint a 
 grey figure in a niche, and being told that the ground shade was of much importance, 
 and ought also to correct, and being at the same time shewn the model it was painted 
 by, went immediately and got a niche made: but, for want of a figure he borrowed 
 his master’s, and set in the niche, tracing therein the ground-shade with black lead ; 
 
Of Statuary, 159 
 
 agreeable to which, he gave all his figures, in what action soever, the same ground- 
 shade. 
 
 JNow it is certain, that things painted on firm places ought, that they may look na- 
 tural, to have their proper ground-shades, according to the relief ; well observing, 
 1 . Whence they receive their light, fronting or sideways. 2. How far they are from 
 the light, in order to determine; as one somewhat short, sharp, and strong, as being 
 near the light, and the others longer, fainter, and more melting, in proportion as they 
 go off from it. 
 
 As a furtherance to the artist, I shall treat somewhat of the painting on wooden 
 vases, urns, cisterns, and the like, or on other smooth objects. 
 
 As things painted on smooth objects, standing in large and wide places, can have 
 no relief or projecture on the sides when seen fronting ; so rising and projecting or- 
 naments, such as raised figures, lions-heads, festoons, and the like, are very impro- 
 per and unnatural on them, unless being fixed and immoveable, they were seen 
 but from one side ; for then you may paint as strong and relieved things upon them 
 as you please, avoiding the side going off, since the smooth roundness of the figure 
 does not admit it. The moveable objects which are used, and seen from all sides, 
 must have a fronting light, and be painted very flat or faint, and with no rising 
 swells ; and the ground, of what colour soever it is, be laid in such a manner, tliat 
 what is painted on it, whether figure or other object, be set off by a dark tint iti 
 its outlijie, and this to be darker or lighter, as it ought to be more or less rounding : 
 yet the main light must be somewhat stronger than the ground. 
 
 As to the colours, there are many which agree well together ; Lapis Lazuli inlaid 
 with gold ; also green serpentine with white, as marble or plaister ; touchstone, por- 
 phiry, agate, and others. On wood of any sort suits ivory-work, provided the 
 former be not of too light a colour, like palm or olive tree. In the use of gold, it 
 ought to be laid on such a tint as you think fit, so as it may be heightened with shell- 
 gold on the most relieved parts, and afterwards varnished. 
 
 In these countries (Holland) statuary is of small account. Little advantage is to 
 be gained by marble or other stone : and though here and there in a garden or other 
 place, a figure or child is to be made in free-stone, yet that is too trivial for a good 
 master. But it is otherwise in Italy ^ where there are so many magnificent buildings, 
 and mostly enriched with carving and statuary. In fine, that country is a land of 
 promise to one who understands his business. He gets money, and has the esteem 
 of the great. On this account a statuary in our country ought to be somewhat ac- 
 quainted with painting, as being obliged to make a virtue of necessity. I knew one 
 who for this reason applied so much to painting, that he changed the stone into cloth, 
 and his chissels into pallet and pencils : for, said he, People here will scarce pay for 
 
160 
 
 Of Statuary. 
 
 doth, much Jess lay out so much money for a block of marble. It Is certain they 
 cannot always carry such heavy baggage along with them; I speak with respect to 
 those who hang their houses, galleries, halls, or apartments with cloths, and cause 
 them to be painted with statues and bass-reliefs, which at any time, in case of re- 
 moval, fire, or other accidents, they may roll up, and hang in other rooms, which 
 otherwise they could not do; at least it is better than to paint nvery thing on the 
 walls themselves, as was the former custom ; since this country is not like Italy or 
 France, where the painting in Fresco (as divers palaces and churches of some hun- 
 dred years standing can testify) sufficiently pays for trouble and charges. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 OF THE FORCE, PROPERTY, AND MANAGEMENT OF BASS-RELIEFS* 
 
 I THINK an artist ought never to be at a loss for matter in this point, either for the 
 pencil or chissel ; because it is to be furnished not only from the fables, emblems, 
 
 and bacchanals, but likewise from Scripture. 
 
 I have formerly, in the book on Composition, proposed the story of Judah and 
 Thamar ; which, according to bass-relief management, is, with little alteration, (as 
 well as many others) very improper for it, when you would represent two or three 
 grounds in the same piece, though that story require not so much depth : and how 
 fine would such a bass-relief become the hall either of a Jew or Christian? And if 
 herein the servant and the country house were on a particular ground, how plainly 
 would the matter appear, if naturally expressed ? For though many imagine that a 
 bass-relief is in the same case with a medal, which tends only to commemorate this 
 or that occurrence, or remarkable story, I must entirely deny it, since, in my opinion, 
 the chief intention of the former is in an instructive manner to serve for adorning a 
 building; and theplainer, more artful and intelligible, the better it is, especially when 
 the choice of subject is our own, and we can go to the expense of it. Yet painted 
 bass-reliefs ought, as well as a good picture, to have their property ; as the ancients 
 (who brought this art to such perfection) have sufficiently shewn in their fine remains, 
 
 which are oiii* best models.. 
 
 I agree with others, that without an exact observation and inquiry into antiquity, 
 and the comments thereon, which some ingenious men have left us, we should be 
 almost strangers to the hieroglyphic sense of the antique bass-reliefs ; or 
 them Are so foreign and dark, that we can scarce apprehend what the ancients would 
 
 signinify by them, • 
 
Of Statuary. l6l 
 
 We shall therefore make some remarks on the long and small, yet fine bass-relief 
 of Meleager killed by his mother, when she burnt the fatal wood. It is certain 
 that this story is faintly represented ; but, in my opinion, the master has omitted the 
 bustle and violent stir of Meleagers body, in order to preserve the elegance of the 
 action. I find it also not strange, that few can understand this story without some 
 Writing under it. We there seethe Parcce, or three fatal sisters, but nothing of the 
 mother ; and though we suppose JDiana to be present and mourning, yet that cir- 
 cumstance does not fully clear the meaning. WLeleager should rather have had his 
 hunting equipage and dogs by him, in order to point out his person and inclinations. 
 And though the burning of the wood seem in some measure to express the matter, 
 yet I think it too neatly cut and smooth, and should be more like a fire brand. But 
 my greatest wonder is, at the absence of the mother Althea; she who was a prin. 
 i cipal person, a great princess, and acted this tragedy out of revenge, and seeing it 
 is one of the greatest effects of a revengeful temper, to triumph in the presence of 
 those who are overcome. Moreover, we see no active passions rule in any part of 
 the composition. Nor can I say who the woman sitting by him is, whether his mo- 
 ther, Diana, Atalanta, or who else : I cannot believe she is his mother, because he 
 seems to be as old as she. Moreover, we do not perceive in him any motion of a 
 person in pain. Nor can I apprehend the design of the face on the round board 
 below on the ground, it not being a medal for ornament, though doubtless placed 
 there by the artist for some reason. Some think it represents rage or trouble, or 
 else fire, because the hair seems to be flaming. But the matter might have been 
 better expressed by a pressing of the eyes, struggling of the arms and legs, contrac- 
 tion of the nose, mouth, fingers, and toes, and the trouble and pain of the dying per- 
 son; w'hereas here we see nothing like it; but, contrarily, he seems to die very 
 quietly, as his arms lying close to his body at full length sufficiently shew. Besides, 
 it is against the rule of emblems to admit of any aid, where the fact can be per- 
 formed by the person himself, much less the addition of two or three figures to ex- 
 press the meaning, unless they be statues ; such as tyranny with Nero, ambition with 
 Alexander, valour with Scipio, and so forth. 
 
 It is true that painters used formerly, before they were acquainted with expressing 
 the passions in the face and gestures, to write them on scrolls proceeding from the 
 figures mouths, that they might thereby be understood ; but as artists are now more 
 enlightened, it would certainly be very improper to set a cock or spur by a man 
 sitting or standing, in order to shew his industry, or a scull by another, in order to 
 shew that he is dead. See. 
 
 By these observations it is apparent that our Meleager should rather have been 
 known by a fine action and motion ; since the chief end of a representation is to 
 
 VOL. II. Y 
 
162 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 express naturally, and with energy, the nature of the matter ; and this may as welt 
 be done in bass-relief as painted, if the story require it. Nevertheless we must ob- 
 serve, that there are some passions which do not work externally, and ought to be 
 expressed by additions, in order to make them intelligible ; such may be Charity, 
 Mercy, Piety, Liberality, and the like: but Anger, Madness, or Rage, Pain, 
 Smart, &c. (which disturb the body as well as the mind, by irritating the members) 
 do not require emblematic figures or additional explanations. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 OF THE DRAPERIES OF STATUES AND BASS-RELIEFS. 
 
 Among the Greek statues, we find none but what seem to be dressed in one sort 
 of stuff; and these are the models for a good statuary or painter to govern himself 
 by. But a portrait, which is likewise an ornamental image, must never be like a 
 statue or stone figure, though white and painted with a single colour ; even were 
 Ovid with his train of metamorphoses present. No fine disposition of folds is here 
 the advantage : if the stuffs be not like those of the Greeks, they are not proper for 
 stone, and seem less congruous with antiquity. 
 
 Let us therefore not flatter ourselves, that we can make any improvements, by 
 seeking new stuffs for our figures ; nor rely too much on the dexterity of our hands, 
 that how brittle soever the stones are, we can work them and perform any thing, even 
 folds as thin as paper, small flying draperies, loose hairlocks hanging on a thread, 
 &c. But rather imitate the Greeks, in the thinness, pliability, and looseness of their 
 draperies, that the beautiful sway of the moving parts be not obstructed, but plainly 
 perceived under them ; unless, in the case of old people, who, because of their stiff- 
 ness, may be dressed in coarse cloth ; and yet not as seeming to be a mere dress 
 without a body, but sitting close to it, so as to discover the principal parts, with the 
 end hanging loosely down, not sticking out. 
 
 Flying draperies have no place among statues, or bass-reliefs : and though the latter 
 represent histories, yet such draperies are not proper in them, unless on the second 
 or third grounds; where then they may be fixed against the ground, and be no hind- 
 rance. 
 
 In a medal little relieved, or on urns or vases, where flying and running figures 
 can be represented in all sorts of histories, we may freely make as many of those 
 draperies as we please ; because, as we said in the third chapter, the principal mo- 
 tion ought always to be in profile, either on a single or second ground. 
 
163 
 
 Of Stahmy. 
 
 I willingly allow the Greeks to be the inventors of loose draperies, as being the 
 most easy ; but that therefore we may not, now statuary is arrived at such perfec- 
 tion, make use of all sorts of stuffs (which is a thing possible) seems to me very 
 strange : for it is certain, that all things through long practice improve, and we daily 
 discover and see wdiat was formerly unknown. Besides, there are few laws which 
 are not capable of amendment or enlargement ; and though, as the proverb says. 
 Old people are seldom bettered by younger, yet it happens in some things, espe- 
 cially in this art. I speak here of laws only by way of comparison. Pray observe, 
 how little the famous JBernini at Rome has tied himself up to the Greek antiquities. 
 By the force of his judgment he has surpassed them ; he has gone such lengths, 
 that it was indifferent what he met with, whether flying, running, lying, standing, 
 naked, or drest figures : he did every thing, not like the Greeks in a stone-like man- 
 ner, but with draperies flying, folding, and swinging, as if they were a live people; 
 and those with beautiful and broad folds, sometimes loose, at others set thick or 
 thin, tenderly and agreeably worked as art requires. But what am I saying? we 
 need not go abroad for examples: what fine draperies has not the famous statuary 
 Keyzer made. It is certain he did not merely follow the antique; thinking it below 
 his character to beat the common road ; he sought the TJltra^ in order to go 
 beyond. 
 
 Add to these the great master Francisco Qumoy, whom I do not name as dis- 
 commending others, by passing them by in silence, but as an excellent pattern for 
 shewing us a way to void of error and reproof : for by saying, that JBernini performed 
 what the Greeks never did, I mean that he dressed his figures in thick and thin 
 stuffs, in order to give them as it seems more motion ; the draperies swinging, flying, 
 and ruffling, according to the liberty allowed to any master who can perform it. 
 
 It may possibly seem to some, that I am trampling antique glory under foot ; but 
 I declare I have no such intention : though I know that if some persons had the 
 option, either to be a Praxiteles, or Phidias, or a JDutch Keyzer^ or Roman JBernini, 
 they would chuse to be the last ; and, for this reason, that art has in these later ages, 
 met with improvements unknown to antiquity. But, after all, I must say in refer- 
 ence to the judgment I have made, that though it be in our choice to represent any 
 stuff we can perform, yet as long as we find none more beautiful, proper, or fine, than 
 those which the Greeks have left us for examples, I think we ought to follow them. 
 As to what is flying, swinging, blowing, or folding, (which is very improper in 
 statutes, as we have said) I shall leave that point to JBernini, and not follow 
 either Keyzer or Quellin : but were I to do that honour to any person, it would be 
 to F? 'ancisco Qiiinoy. 
 
 But let me ridt by any means persuade artists to imitate the particular manner 
 
 Y 2 
 
l64 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 of this or that master ; for every one has the liberty of clmsing for himself, and I 
 preserve mine. What I have advanced is only a whet for the judicious, by making 
 further inquiries. 
 
 It is a great fault in artists to fix their thoughts on a single part of a figure, such 
 as an elegant neck, handsome shoulder, back finely muscled, or beautiful thigh> 
 which they work with the greatest application and pleasure, in order to give it a soft- 
 ness ; and, if that succeed well, they are perfectly charmed with it ; insomuch that 
 we may often perceive in what part their greatest delight lay. Hence it frequently 
 happens, that the parts of the same figure are very unlike in goodness ; and the 
 hands and feet, nay sometimes the face, bungled for the sake of a well finished back. 
 It must be granted, that the principal parts are of the most importance ; yet we are 
 not ignorant, how much the lesser can either set off or deform a beautiful figure. 
 What is a fine naked with poor hands and clumsy feet ? Why was Va7i Dyke so 
 famous for his portraits, but for having as much regard to an hand as a face ? To 
 an expert workman it is indifferent, whether he cut a block of marble, or make a 
 model in clay ; save that the former requires more time. 
 
 But, after all, this choice of handling and neatness is of no moment, if the figure 
 be not well set or designed, because the greatest perfection lies in a conjunction of 
 both. Wherefore it is certain, that if Phidias and Praxiteles had been masters of 
 Bernini's handling and elegance, and this last, the knowledge of the Greeks, all three 
 would have deserved the greater praise. > 
 
 I as readily own as I take for granted, that art ow'es its defects to artists them- 
 selves, as well in painting and statuary, as architecture; proceeding not only from 
 masters keeping their pupils ignorant of their principles, experiments, and secrets, 
 but also from obstructing their advances in the art : for though it were weakness to 
 think the ancients did not understand it, yet the decay must, as I imagine, be prin- 
 cipally imputed to the reason I have given : from whence arose another mischief, to 
 wit, an indifference in pupils for further improvements, especially in statuary. Ac- 
 cordingly none will at this time seek the old path of his predecessors ; it is now 
 overgrown, and become so uncertain as hardly to be found ; every man runs blind- 
 fold over the heath, without knowing whether. 
 
 We observe, that the Greeks have commonly made more naked figures than the 
 Romans : which I can ascribe to no other cause, than a choice of objects agreea- 
 able to their inclinations, and a desire to display their skill in the composition 
 and symmetry of the parts of the human body. In their statues, they rather chose 
 to represent deities ^than men, and, in their bass-reliefs, rather bacchanals and sa- 
 crifices than histories. The Romans, on the other hand, desirous by their statues 
 and bass-reliefs to transmit the memories of their emperors to posterity, found 
 
Of Statuary. 1^5 
 
 themselves obliged that they might not go against history, to dress their figures in 
 the mode of the times. 
 
 We shall now consider the necessary observations in painting statues and bass-re- 
 liefs. It is certain, that they must be very neat and white, because such works in 
 stone being both hazardous, troublesome, and costly, were never undertaken before 
 the artists had chosen fine blocks of marble for that purpose. Wherefore we ought 
 
 to take notice of the stones and their kinds. 
 
 Light marble is various ; one sort entirely white, another bluish, a third flesh-co- 
 lour, &c. being thus either in nature, or changed through time. They are all good 
 when free from spots or eyes, and appear well against proper grounds. 
 
 For this reason we see, that the ancients represented the best and most remark- 
 able histories either in copper or white marble ; as many remains on palaces, tem- 
 ples, honorary arches, columns, pyramids, tombs, &c. can witness. Single white 
 has also this advantage above the coloured paintings, that it does not soon change, 
 and, when it fades, as marble itself is not free from it, it is all of a colour. The 
 use of it is certainly attended with much less trouble, and not less natural in co- 
 lours : moreover, we may sooner find ten masters for this sort of painting, than 
 three for colours ; because it is but a single part of the art, and remains always the 
 same, and without alteration ; whereas the case of colours is quite different. The 
 grey paintings represent only a wall, or piece of stone work, but the coloured 
 ones shew the life itself, seen as through a window : wherefore the grey can nei- 
 ther recreate nor serve for particular pictures of delight ; nor can be of further 
 use than in the places where they are set for ornament, of which they make but 
 a small part ; and were any thing else to be placed there, it would be but of the 
 nature of the stone, and not please like a coloured picture. It is even in the same 
 case with a field in summer and winter. The north wind deadens and greys it, 
 and the summer revives and makes it look green again, feeding the very soul with its 
 
 variety of flowers. 
 
 The white marble has a particular colour and tenderness ; as may be perceiv- 
 ed in the mixture of colours : wherefore it is of great moment to suit it well to its 
 ground. 
 
 Between grey stone it ought only to be tempered with white and black, and soften- 
 ed with light or yellow oker ; but between reddish or porphiry stone, with a little 
 vermilion or hidian red, somewhat upon the flesh-colour, and this in shade as well 
 as in the second tint. If you learn this colour from the life, your work will have 
 the utmost agreeableness. 
 
166 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 OF THE ATTITUDES OF STATUES; 
 
 Besides the draperies of statues, something is to be observed concerning their 
 sways and postures ; which is a point of the greatest consequence : wherefore 
 we shall in the first place shew what statues are ; next, whether they will admit of 
 any other variety than what the Greeks have assigned ; in the third place, whethei* 
 those which since their times have been in use, are reckoned as good ; and lastly, 
 whether it be not more adviseable to follow the antique and good ones, than to seek 
 after new and less good. 
 
 Amidst the infinity of motions incident to nature in general, it is observed, that 
 every man has one particular to himself, and peculiar to his temper ; one bustling, 
 another slow, and a third between both : and this distinction cannot but be obvi- 
 ous, even to a man of small understanding, since from thence, and a propensity for 
 company like ourselves, proceed either our love or aversion for this or that person or 
 their actions. And if this be granted, we may be assured that the ancient masters 
 (especially the who was so famous for wisdom) nicely observed all those 
 
 motions, as well the internal as external, and expressed them in their several works. 
 AVherefore it may then perhaps be inferred, that nothing in this particular remains 
 for the improvements of after ages. But let me ask. Why we should not as well 
 make use of our abilities and judgments in order to go forward ? I think we may, 
 in other things especially ; but passing by what is already done, we shall proceed to 
 inquire what a statue means and signifies. 
 
 A statue represents an idol, in human shape : an idol I say, with respect to its 
 origin and use, and (as far as statuary is concerned) formed after the best propor- 
 tion, either in gold, silver, or other metal, and dextrously worked by the hand and 
 judgment of the artist. The uses of these are to be set in temples, courts, pa- 
 laces, and other public places, but especially to adorn architecture. We find them 
 as well in scripture as fables : for instance, in Mordecai, when royally arrayed he 
 was led on horseback by through the city. Also in Christ, when exposed 
 
 by Pilate to public view. 
 
 We likewise find matter for statues in profane, even recent stories : as for in- 
 stance, in the late king William and queen Mary, of blessed memory, moulded 
 from the life, and set up in the temple of honour, and such like. None of these 
 pieces shew either active, passionate, or violent motions, but plain or grave, and 
 majestic, suitable to the dignities of the persons they represent, and which we 
 
167 
 
 Of Statumy^ 
 
 ought to consider as gentlemen or ladies, who standing at the doors or windows 
 to see and be seen by the people are serious and without motion. Whence the pro- 
 verb seems to arise, “ He stands like a stone figure, or block or, like a dumb 
 and lifeless person. 
 
 We shall therefore consider two sorts of statues, the unactive and the moving. 
 The unactive are such as stand singly in niches and on frontispieceSj and the mov- 
 ing or bustling are those which are seen in groups of two or three, on pedestals, 
 triumphal arches, and fountains. 
 
 Now it is certain, that these two sorts of statues must needs have particular pur- 
 poses, and therefore particular places: for the former are seen from a single stand, 
 for which they are properly made, and the latter are to be viewed round about from 
 all sides. But of this we shall say more in the next chapter. 
 
 As to this latter sort of statues, they receive not their appellations from the persons 
 they represent, but from the actions they performed, or the misfortunes they under- 
 went : and herein lies the main point, since without them the persons singly of them- 
 selves w'ould not be known ; as in the stories of Se7ieca, Petiis, Laocom, Pyramus, and 
 others : and these occurrences or accidents must be but once, and on one occasion, 
 attributed to them. Suppose any of these persons were to be represented by a 
 single statue, as Laocoo^i with a serpent, PyramusWiih a sword, &c. what difference 
 would there be between one who once committed such an act, or bore such a cala- 
 mity, and one who in his life-time had gone through a thousand accidents, as Hercules^ 
 Theseus, Achilles, Hector, many others who are represented by one statue? 
 Wherefore we may easily conceive, that the ancients have in every respect so firmly 
 fixed and orderly disposed their postures, that there is no room left either for altera- 
 tion or addition. Besides, we see that no additions of the modern masters are like 
 the antique, either in quality or goodness, as is evident in the works of Quelin, Keyzer, 
 Bernmi, and many others, who made no distinction between statues and statues. 
 
 If I seem here to contradict myself, because having in the preceding chapter set 
 forth those three great masters almost above antiquity, I now place them below it, let 
 it be observed, that I am speaking of statues, not of bass-reliefs; for herein they 
 have neither excelled nor been equalled to antiquity in the beauty, air, and variety of 
 draperies. 
 
 The ancients in their statues had in view three principal conditions and natures of 
 men ; the gay, the heavy, and the moderate : the gay are active, full of fire, and 
 slender like the Apollo ; the second are melancholy, slow, and listless, like the Anti- 
 nous; and the third sort is of a composed temper between both, as the Mercurius ra- 
 dians, which receives its light from below. All these were etched by Perrier. We 
 also commonly observe, that the active and airy are seldom long without motion, 
 
168 
 
 Of Statuary, 
 
 now standing on one leg, then on the other : accordingly the ancients represented 
 such a person standing on one leg, resting little or nothing on the other foot ; but 
 being to exhibit an indolent, voluptuous, melancholy one, ' like Antinous^ we may 
 plainly discover how heavily he stands on one leg, and yet rests on the other foot, 
 his belly projecting, head hanging down, and hips excessively rising. The contra- 
 rieties of these two figures are worthy of remark; one seems to fly, and the other to 
 be sinking into the earth. As to the expression of the third figure, (which is a mean 
 between the two sorts aforesaid) he, as a well-tempered person, is made standing firm 
 on his legs, looking thoughtfully down without any turn, not too fiery or easy, nor 
 too much sunk: one hip swelling a little more than that of Apollo, and somewhat 
 less than that of Antinous, and, though resting on one leg, yet appearing more firm 
 than the one, and more airy than the other. 
 
 Now as the ancients knew how to divide those three different bodies so very nicely, 
 according to their natures and action, so we need not question but they handled all 
 their other figures in the same manner : I speak in reference to their qualities, as a 
 still standing Bacchus, Mnr^, Hercules, Saturn, &c. Even the women, goddesses, 
 and nymphs not excepted; all which proceed either in a greater or less degree from 
 the three standards before mentioned : this truth is evident, not only from these ex- 
 amples, but likewise from what we daily meet with, whether in models or prints. 
 Let us then not imagine, that we are able to invent new actions for our statues, or 
 others than those which are already found, much less that they should be better and 
 more proper ; but rather employ our thoughts more advantageously on other things, 
 and in the mean time implicitly follow the ancients in a study so noble, and in which 
 they took so much pains. 
 
 ' The main point lies in the beautiful sway of a stature, w^ell expressed according to 
 the quality, condition, nature, and intention of it. But hereby I mean not, that we 
 are obliged to imitate the actions and postures of the ancients, without the least de- 
 viation: contrarily, every man has the liberty of exercising his ingenuity: I propose 
 their works only as patterns which I have always followed, and would have others 
 do the same, without fear of being therefore called copyists, or their w’^orks copies. 
 Such a moderation I think even very commendable, since the fable of Icarus teaches 
 us, that high-flyers have often great falls; or, by avoiding Scylla, they get into Cha-^ 
 rybdis. 
 
 There, still remains a necessary remark, concerning the explanatory additamentsof 
 statues; and, to be brief, I shall shew their natures in three particular statues, and 
 chuseout of many the stories and figures of Bucretia, Dido, and T/iisbe, among the 
 women. Those of the men may on the same footing be easily apprehended. 
 
Of Statuary. 2G9 
 
 I represent these three women with daggers in their hand, to denote that they fell 
 by those weapons. 
 
 Liucretia is grave and majestic. 
 
 Dido haughty and proud. And, 
 
 Thishe very plain and city-like. 
 
 I exhibit JLucretia thus because she was a noble Roman lady, who being ravished 
 by Sextus Tarquinius, in discontent stabbed herself with a dagger. Now to make 
 this known, a round shield or board, with the ravisher’s head thereon is standing- 
 or lying at her feet, and on her right side lies a dog to point out her faithful love. 
 On the pedestal appears the whole fact. 
 
 The second, a queen of great spirit, has likewise a dagger; because, on being de- 
 ceived, she in spite and rage killed herself. The figure of j^neas I place near her 
 and on the other side a sparrow, as the emblem of wanton love. 
 
 But Thishe^ in honourable affection moved, or rather deceived, by Pyramus's ima- 
 ginary death, stabbed herself for pure love and despair, as being unwilling to 
 survive her lover. Near her on one side stands the figure of Pyramus, and on the 
 other two turtles. Underneath these two latter appears the fact itself as in the 
 first. 
 
 These I think sufficient examples for further representations ; as having shewed 
 the difference in three, which are almost conformable to each other. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 or THE PLACING OF FIGURES UPON PEDESTALS, FRONTISPIECES, IN 
 
 NICHES, AND OTHER PLACES. 
 
 It is evident that statuary has a dependance on architecture, and is regulated by it* 
 and as figures adorn and give life to a landscape, so statuary embellishes and makes 
 architecture look grand. A good landscape painter knows what objects are most 
 proper for a composition, and what forms they must have, whether crooked, straight, 
 standing, sitting, to the left or right, in order to produce.decorum, as we have shewed 
 in the chapter concerning irregular objects : and a skilful architect ought to be as 
 well acquainted with tlie method of setting off his work with figures, bass-reliefs, and 
 other ornaments according to rule, that it may thereby become not only magnificent 
 and elegant, but we may .plainly perceive it must beso, and not otherwise. He should 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 z 
 
170 
 
 Of Statuary. 
 
 tilso know, why sotiig fi^’uros ou^ht to f&cc, snd others iook from ench others w'hy 
 these must swell or rise outwardly, those be upright or sitting, &c. 
 
 Upon this account, the statuary ought rightly to understand the architect’s inten- 
 tion, ere he proceed to work; as also what figures he is to make naked or clothed, 
 be they of men, women, or children, on what side they ought to rise or swell, and how 
 bent ; and from what side seen, and whether they must stand high or low, and so 
 forth. Being apprised of these particulars, he is then to execute his thoughts in 
 finding, according to those sways, fine actions, graceful motions, and elegant draper- 
 ies, from whence may arise a general decorum. Thus much as to these two active 
 sisters. 
 
 In relation to the third, to wit, painting, which embraces them both, as needing 
 their aid, I must say, that it makes the elegancies of architecture and statuary, 
 whether in history or landscape its chief study, so a judicious painter ought, for 
 adorning his architecture with figures, bass reliefs, &c. to be thoroughly acquainted 
 with them, that he may naturally express them with shade and colour ; even so much 
 as thereby to correct the inevitable deformities still to be observed in nature. 
 
 It is unaccountable, that among so many good architects, statuaries, and painters, 
 so few have understood the right placing of statues : they sometimes hit it, but not 
 upon certain principles. Wherefore we shall endeavour to clear the point in few 
 words and three sketches, hoping that no oflfence will be taken at my adapting the 
 matter also to painting, since it has so near a concern therein. 
 
 As there is nothing in nature without imperfection, so in the use of things we 
 ought to proceed with judgment, in order to chuse the best for the satisfaction of our 
 own eyes, as well as those of the knowing and lovers. 
 
 In the placing of statues in architecture, the same regard must be had wherever 
 they stand or sit. I speak not of painting alone, but what generally concerns both 
 the arts; statuary in the first place, and afterwards painting. See plates LXV. 
 and LXVI. 
 
 Behold the sketch in plate LXV. with attention, and my orderly disposition of the 
 statues in different places, sufficiently to evidence in the regularity of my scheme to 
 any one who has a mind to try the contrary. 
 
 Here you are only to observe the outlines of couples or pairs of figures, and their 
 postures against each other ; for a single figure acts for itself, but a pair or couple of 
 figures shews the result of both. 
 
 I have formerly asserted, what constitutes a beautiful action, namely, a good turn 
 of the members and motion of the liead, arms, hands, and feet. 
 
 The first example chiefly concerns statuaries, who, by observing that position, 
 
Of Statuary. I71 
 
 will shew that they understand it, and are able to order and make large tilings as 
 well as small. 
 
 The second example respects painters, though it be the same as the former, in refer- 
 ence to the outline ; but with respect to shade, when -we are confined to a single 
 and fixed light, we ought to choose a proper and advantageous one, that the outline, 
 as our principal purpose, may thereby maintain its force, and produce the effect 
 and decorum we desire, as you see here, wdth its opposites. 
 
 We have formerly said, that the outline without the shade is of no effect; and 
 that a beautiful action and outline may lose their force, and the gracefulness be 
 spoiled by an improper light ; which deformity is very visible in sharp and broad 
 lights, and more disagreeable than in moving figures. 
 
 The third example concerns those who paint figures, bass-reliefs, and other orna- 
 ments, either in white, red, yellow, or other coloured marble or stone. Here, 
 observe not only the outline, as in the first example, or the same shaded, as in the 
 second, but likewise the colour of the stone, as well in the shade as light: I say, 
 especially in the shade, because therein appears the greatest variety, either by means 
 of the air, or some other reflections. 
 
 Another of our positions has been, that all objects retain their natural beauty 
 in the shade, unless they receive reflections from other things ; likewise that white 
 is the most susceptible of it, and by its cleanness easily receives whatever co- 
 lour it meets with. Consider also the great difference between the closeness and 
 solidity of marble, and the thinness and transparency of linen. In the third ex- 
 ample you will find that white marble, not without reason, produces yellow or 
 russet shades ; wherefore you ought carefully to consult Nature, in order to imitate 
 her with knowledge. 
 
 But to return to the first example, let us observe how two opposing figures ap- 
 pear in their outline. First, upon the frontispiece where these two figures swell 
 outwardly, the faces either regarding or turning from each other, and the arms the 
 same; and the middlemost straight, without swell and fronting; and those on the 
 outsides also with little or no turn, as being seen only forward : secondly, the two 
 figures on each side of the steps likewise swell outwardly, yet more turning than 
 the others, because being also seen sideways, they ought to be beautiful from three 
 sides : thirdly, the foremost figure may have as much turn and action as you please, 
 and be good all round : fourthly, the figures in the niches are fronting without the 
 least turn or stir, and the greatest swell is forwards. It is also very probable for 
 the men to stand below, and the women above; because the woman tapers upwards, 
 and therefore is more disappearing and nniting with the air ; which in architecture 
 
 2 2 ■ 
 
172 Of Statuary, 
 
 has a fine effect For this reason they formerly oftentimes set small pyramids on the 
 tops of houses, instead of figures. 
 
 The uppermost figures against the sky look best naked, because of their airiness ; 
 those in niches must be massy and drest, and those below on the balustrade half 
 dressed. Thus much as to the first sketch. 
 
 The second example shews the method to be used when it happens, that the 
 shade causes a visible deformity on the swelling part of a figure, as to help it 
 by the disposition of an arm, piece of drapery, or hand ; I mean, in a painting 
 where the light remains always the same, and to which statuaries are not tied, 
 especially in the open air, because the light continually alters, but in a painting 
 not ; for as things are painted they stand. This remark is worth noting as well 
 in active as still images. 
 
 In the third sketch, I exhibit a standing figure in a niche, and between them a 
 bass viol, supposed to be of yellowish or russet wood; which colour, because the figure 
 is of white marble, gives strong reflections. On the side we see another figure be- 
 tween the greens; and a third lying on the ground surrounded with the air : in all 
 three I have one and the same intention, viz. to shew the cause of the mixture of 
 the shades, otherwise, the figures will sometimes seem to be made of two sorts of 
 stuff, as the light parts white, and the shades of some other colour. A due observa- 
 tion of this enables us to answer for what we do. 
 
 Although now by these positions about the stirring actions, I seem to contradict 
 former ones, namely, that in painting or carving statues, we ought to give them but 
 little turn, yet in fact I do not: I speak there only concerning a single figure; where- 
 as here are many in company, and those set upon pedestals, fountains, and the like 
 places, where they are seen from all sides, which creates a difference as well in their 
 natures as circumstances. 
 
 If I am taxed with presumption for taking upon me to place figures, and set 
 naked ones and women above, and men with those which are dressed below, I 
 answer, that my conduct is founded on architecture, which intimates, that the 
 five orders are peculiar to five different conditions of men, as Polyphemus, or the 
 giants for the first order; Mars, as robust or muscular, for the second ; Apollo, for 
 his slenderness, for the third ; Diana, or Venus, as womanish, for the fourth ; and 
 Iris, or Cupid, for the fifth. This consideration will, I think, as well embolden as 
 justify me. 
 
 To conclude this chapter, I shall say something concerning heads, hands, and 
 feet, because I have found both here and in other parts, painters as well ns statua- 
 ries very imperfect in them, as if of less consideration than bodies. 
 
 Some statuaries do not sufficiently vary their faces, making little difference be- 
 
Of Statuary. 173 
 
 tween youth and age, giving also invich into the modern way of affectation and ex. 
 aggeration, I mean a kind of fondness in artists for a particular manner ; as to make 
 the eye-lids of their figures too large, which causes a heavy look ; and to cut the 
 dimples on each side of the mouth and the hollows of the nose and neck too deep, 
 seemingly shewing tlie fatness of women ; Whereas, they ought rather to be some- 
 what more expressive in the muscles ; since, according to the turn of the head, those 
 rise more or less, especially in thin and aged people : I speak only of giving a va- 
 riety to the look and breasts ; for, faces must not be always alike grave and lofty ; 
 there must be wanton ones as well as modest, large featured as well as tender, suit- 
 able to the bodies ; the case is here the same with the. neck and breasts, some are 
 growing, others full grown. 
 
 Much is to be observed about the make of the hands, and set of the feet, espe- 
 cially when naked and without sandals; but the matter lies most in ordering the 
 toes. The three foremost ought to be the longest, and close, turning out more or 
 less with the tread of the feet ; whereas some turn them in, the great one lying 
 straight with the foot, and the rest against it, which looks very uncomely. See the 
 examples in plate LX VII. and the difference between them, of which the two up- 
 permost shew the unseemliness, and the three others the elegance I speak of. And 
 though many have casts of beautiful womens’ hands for constant use, yet these (as 
 has been said of faces, breasts, &c.) cannot upon all occasions serve for the differ- 
 ence of the sexes ; for women have thicker and more tapering fingers, and smaller 
 nails than men, who, according to their hulk and age have more rising knuckles than 
 
 women. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OF THE USEFULNESS OE MODELLING. 
 
 Having, m the second chapter, spoken of modelling, which is a practice of great 
 concern to a curious artist, I shall here deliver my further thoughts about it. 
 
 The making models, whether in clay, wax, or other soft matter, is both useful, 
 delightful, and necessary for a statuary as well as painter, indeed, for all who en- 
 deavour at any perfection in the- art ; for by this practice (in reference to the relief of 
 things we are to represent, whereby it seems always to have life itself) we obtain a 
 firmness, and at the same time a bold handling. It disburthens our thoughts, and 
 makes such lasting impressions on the mind, that we need not be at a loss about the 
 life. We must be sensible of the great advantage arising from it, because we can 
 
174 Of Statuary. 
 
 model in the aforesaid bodies, bass-reliefs, foliage, and other ornaments from the an- 
 tiquities, on all sorts of objects, as altars, vases, dishes, candlesticks, cisterns, &c. 
 and then paint them with such colour as we please ; also gild or bronze them, ac- 
 cording to the use we would put them to. By the same means we may have store 
 of elegant sword hilts and helmets, Greek as w^ell as Roman, to serve on any occa- 
 sion. In short, a good modeller can help himself out of any difficulties. Therefore, 
 let me advise you to fall bodily to work, and make bass-reliefs, sphinxes, tombs, 
 vases, or any thing else necessary in the art. You may likewise get small wooden 
 dishes and pots of divers kinds turned, and prettily adorn them with wax imagery of 
 satyrs faces, playing children, dancing nymphs, &c. These things may be used in 
 any manner of painting, whether the piece be sun-shine, or moon, or candle-lights. 
 If you would go further, you can divert yourself with modelling medals in wax, and 
 oblige a friend with a cast of them. 
 
 Many of the most famous masters have practised modelling, as sufficiently ap- 
 pears in their works. The truth is, we can make any thing we want, even what 
 nobody else has, and is no where to be purchased, to paint after, as from the life 
 itself. 
 
 I shall say little of the method for making models, because it is very common, 
 and every man has his own way ; wherefore I shall confine myself to flat bass- 
 reliefs. 
 
 Having sketched my design on paper, as large or small as I would model it, and 
 neatly worked it up with lights and shades, I take a board painted with the same 
 colour and tint as my design, and with a point trace it thereon, and fill these out- 
 lines with wax or clay more or less raised, as occasion requires ; then I work the 
 stuff* first with fingers,*afterwards with a toothed tool, and lastly with a wet pencil, in 
 order to make it smooth and even; which being done, and the board placed in the 
 same light as our pictures are to stand or hang in, it serves for a model to paint after. 
 If now we are to introduce it in our pieces, whether in landscapes, friezes, shallow 
 niches, &c. it must be set either fronting or sloping, in such a light and at such a 
 height as the point of sight directs. But if it he a bass-relief, more raised, the point 
 of sight is placed in the middle of the piece; and though the raised parts on the 
 extremities will then of course happen to jump over the outline, even sometimes 
 over other figures, according to the lengths of the pieces, as in a frieze and such 
 like, I, to prevent that inconvenience, make use of more than one point of sight. 
 
Of Statuary, 
 
 175 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 OF THE VISUAL DECORUM OF A STATUE, WITH ITS PEDESTAL, AS WELL 
 
 WITHIN AS WITHOUT DOORS : AS ALSO THE SUITING OF VASES AND 
 
 BUSTS. 
 
 We find that the grace of the posture and sway of a fine statue arises only from 
 a contrast in its outlines, from top to bottom, affecting not only the figure, but also 
 the pedestal: with this diflference, notwithstanding, between naked and clothed 
 figures, that an ornamented pedestal gives the former greater elegance than a plain 
 one. Yet this latter sort likewise produces a fine effect, by observing, that the 
 swells or scrolls of men’s pedestals ought to be at bottom, and those of women on 
 top, the course of which causes a contrast both in the forms and sexes. See plate 
 LXVIII. 
 
 If now it be asked, in the case of placing two naked figures together, vi?. a man 
 and a woman, as Diana and jLpollo^ Venus and Adonis^ &c. whether the pedestals 
 ought then to be represented so unlike? My opinion is, that they must not, as being 
 contrary to rule and order. If both figures be men, the pedestals ought to swell at 
 bottom ; if both women, on top, and if a man and a woman, both ought to be plain. 
 If there be a woman between two men, the side pedestals must be plain, and the 
 middle one particular to itself, and the contrary. 
 
 Plain pedestals, though bearing dressed figures, vases, or busts, suit not between 
 two columns or pilasters, at least they ought to hollow in, not swell out. 
 
 The height of a vase, placed between two figures, must not exceed three-fourths 
 of that of the figures, inclusive of the pedestal, that is, up to the breasts, and no 
 higher. 
 
 A bust, with its pedestal, should not rise above man’s height, the pedestal not 
 swelling out, but the contrary, as in the examples. . 
 
 Where two vases and a bust are placed in a garden between two figures, the out- 
 ward pedestals ought to be of the same height with the middlemost and plain . the 
 two others must hollow in or swell out according to the course of the vases, and be 
 a third or half lower, yet retain the same breadth with the others. 
 
 A vase twice as high as broad, and running up straight, ought to have a square 
 swelling pedestal. The contrary will produce the same decorum. 
 
 If a bust stand between two vases, they must be level with the shoulders of the 
 figure. The contrary is also good, provided the pedestal be somewhat bigger, and 
 suited to the course of the vaSe. 
 
176 
 
 Of Statuary. 
 
 CHAR X. 
 
 OF THE ORNAMENTS OF THE FRONTISPIECE OF TEMPLES, HOUSES, &C. 
 
 ISfoTHiNG can properly be done in statuary or painting, without due reflection: I 
 speak not only of the manner and handling, but also with respect to the circum- 
 stances of things. Even a good building may abate of its lustre, by a bad choice 
 in the outside ornaments. Wherefore, we shall shew what ought to be done in this 
 point by what follows. 
 
 The Ornament on the Temple of 
 Jupiter^ should be an eagle grasping thunder. 
 
 Mar.s, Some warlike instruments, as armour, helmet, shield, sword, arrows, and 
 standards. 
 
 Vhcehus, A sun in the centie of the zodiac, with the twelve signs. 
 
 Valias, l^edusa's shield, and a helmet adorned with a standing owl, or lying 
 sphinx. 
 
 Diana, Dogs, bow and arrows, and above them a moon. 
 
 Ceres, A plough, with ears of corn, and a sickle. 
 
 Bacchus, Two tigers, a thyrsis twined with vine leaves, and bunches of grapes. 
 'Mercury, A winged cap on a Caduceus. 
 
 Vulcan, An anvil, with hammer and pincers thereon. 
 
 Vesta, An oblation bowl, out of which proceeds a flame in the middle of a circling 
 serpent, 
 
 Cyhele, A castle or key between two lions. / 
 
 The Ornaments on the House of a 
 
 Senator, consul, or magistrate, should be, the Fasces, and in the middle, thunder. 
 Learned man or philosopher, A sphinx with a burning torch, and also some books. 
 General, A shield, with a griffin represented thereon, also a club and lion’s skin. 
 Merchant, a bale of ^oods, a pair of scales, and a yard measure. 
 
 Physician, Msculapius, and a staff twined with a serpent. 
 
 Painter, A inonkegr with pallet and pencils. 
 
 Shepherd, A crook, with a scrip and flute hanging to it. 
 
 Fisherman, Some nets, ropes, Tushos, and fishes. 
 
 The Ornament on an 
 
 Hospital, should be charity or compassion, with the founder’s or town’s arms. 
 
Of Statuary. I77 
 
 Prison, All sorts of frightful instruments, as irons, chains, ropes, &c. 
 
 House of correction, the figure of education, holding the bridle of a tamed beast 
 which goes before her. 
 
 All the arts, as painting, arithmetic, architecture, &c. may be expressed by 
 figures. 
 
 It is certain, that the design of temples, built in honour of the gods, was to place 
 their figures in them for worship, either with prayers or sacrifices. Wherefore it 
 is a great fault in ignorants to place without, in frontispieces or niches, what w« 
 ought to seek within those buildings, as may be seen in the temple of Diana at 
 Ephesusy Apollo at DolpImSy Jupiter at DodotiCy and many others, where the figures 
 all stand without them. 
 
 £NO OF BOOK X. 
 
 2 A. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF FAINTIHG. 
 
 BOOK XI. 
 
 OF STILL LIFE. 
 
 EMBLEM COlfCERNING STILL LIFE. 
 
 J UDGMENT and Prudence sit here at a table, by whom are seen some cupids, taking 
 out of a large horn of plenty, all sorts of things, as a sceptre, crown, necklaces, books, 
 a shepherd’s staff, musical instruments, garlands, flowers, fruit, &c. serving for 
 still life ; and presenting them to Judgment, who, by the help of Prudence, lays them 
 in heaps on the table, disposing them orderly for representing ingenious designs in 
 that part of the art. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF STILL LIFE IN GENERAL. 
 
 Having thus far treated of the power and dignity of the noble art of painting, 
 together with the lustre and advantage accruing to those who thoroughly consider 
 and put it in execution, we shall now, for the sake of weak capacities, proceed to 
 still life, or immoveable and inanimate things ; such as flowers, fruits, gold, silver, 
 stone, musical instruments, dead fish, &c. and shew which are the best and of most 
 advantage. These may in their turns serve for materials for a natural composition 
 wherewith to please all sorts of men, the great as well as the little, the learned as / 
 ignorant. Wherefore out of many we shall fix on the following objects, as the most 
 beautiful, elegant, and agreeable. 
 
 1. Flowers. - 
 
 2. Fruit. 
 
 3. Gold, silver, and other rich things. 
 
 4. Musical instruments. ‘ - 
 
179 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 These four sorts, artfully ordered and performed, may serve for the ornament of 
 halls and cabinets as well as the best paintings, provided they have a proper light, 
 and hang together. But Vve must know, in the first place, what constitutes a good 
 still life piece, since, though it be naturally pencilled, nothing but a good choice can 
 charm the senses, and bring fame to the master. It is weakness to think that faded 
 flowers should please, much less in a picture : or, who would have a piece of ordi 
 nary unripe or rotten fruit in his best room, and among a cabinet collection, seeing 
 the life itself is so disagreeable? Such rubbish I did formerly admire ; but, as they 
 only shew the deformities of nature, I have no appetite to View them any more. But, 
 to return to the subject. 
 
 My opinion is, that the beauty and goodness of a still life consists only in the 
 most choice objects : I say the most choice ; as among flowers, the most rare and 
 beautiful, and the Same in fruits and other things. These will gain the master cre- 
 dit, especially with the addition of some particular significations proper to them. 
 It is not probable that wealthy people should be delighted with old-fashioned plate 
 and furniture, when they can have every thing more beautiful and elegant; and, as 
 improbable, that judicious lovers of music should be pleased with the modern lyre, 
 dulcimer, or bag-pipe. As for cabbages, carrots, and turnips, as likewise cod-fish, 
 salmon, herrings, smelts, and such like, which are poor and mean ornaments, and 
 not worthy of any apartment ; he who is pleased with them may seek them in the 
 markets. I as little approve of horse furniture and hunting equipage; though these 
 latter with wild boars, stags, hares, pheasants, partridges, and other fowls, depend- 
 ing on princes and noblemens fancies, are more tolerable. 
 
 Having thus in general touched on still life, let the judicious determine which sort 
 is best and most advantageous either to the painter or purchaser. 
 
 As for me, I think eloquence very charming to the ear ; but goodness alone 
 makes beauty amiable. What is a fine flower, apple, gold cup, or well tuned 
 violin, without good smell, delicate taste, proper use, and agreeable sound ? Good- 
 ness I say, ought to be perfectly apparent : the smell, taste, hearing, or sound, 
 cannot be painted ; but may be in some measure expressed by occult significations, 
 either in bass-relief by fables, hieroglyphics, or emblematic figures, or by many 
 other things, if the will be not wanting. 
 
 As to the nature and property of the places for still life, they are two-fold, close 
 and open; the one representing it as if hanging against a wall or wainscot, and the 
 other as lying on a bench or table, or on the ground. 
 
 We also suppose, 'that no objects used in still life ought to be represented less than 
 the life. 
 
 It is likewise improper, and aigainst the nature of still life, to introduce, in any of 
 
 2 A 2 
 
180 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 tli 6 l)Gfor0-iiiGntion6d cIioicGs, colourGd b 3 ,ck.“Works, or vistoSj citliGr cIosg or opon * 
 thd,t is, landscape, architecture, or any kind of living' creatures, which would spoil 
 the very name of a still life : moreover, it is difficult, if not impossible, for such a 
 painter to hit every thing 5 and granting he can, I yet question whether he would be 
 pleased with the title of a still life painter. I say, then, that the depth of the pic- 
 ture is only to be represented by a hanging curtain, or a bass-relief of wood or stone, 
 of such a colour and tint as best suits the general decorum^ the one darkish, and 
 the other somewhat lighter. With flowers a dark grey back ground suits better 
 than a white, yellow, or red one. With fruit, white and grey marble, but not yel- 
 low or red : yet, as a fine bass-relief requires more skill than a flower or fruit, and 
 such like, you may, instead thereof, introduce a niche, with a god or goddess’s 
 bust therein, proper to the subject; as a F/om, Pomona, Bacchus, Apollo, Diana, 
 or others, according to the intent of your design, and as you would have it bear 
 either a particular or general meaning, which each of those figures will supply in 
 abundance. Flowers are various, and, like fruits, may be divided into three sorts, 
 to wit, the Spring, Summer, and Autumn ; and, having different qualities, are fit 
 for many fine and uncommon designs, in conjunction with bass-reliefs or busts, as I 
 have said, with this caution, that with flowers suit no fruit, but ears of corn, as be- 
 ing airy and pliable ; but among fruits may be some flowers, especially such as 
 allude to rest and mirth ; as poppies and roses. And yet these agree best with 
 grapes, either in garlands or festoons. 
 
 Let us now, for exercise and improvement in this point, observe what the learned 
 say. The white lily is sacred to Juno; turnsol to Apollo; the rose to Venus; Di~ 
 alia and Somnus claim the poppieS ; Ceres, the corn-flowers \Juno, the pomegranates; 
 Bacchus, the fig-tree and vine ; Ceres, or Isis, the peaches and ears of corn ; Venus 
 and Apollo, the apples; Ops, or Mother Earth, every thing she produces through- 
 out tlie year. Of instruments, the lyre is dedicated to Apollo. Mercury, and the 
 Muses ; the flute to Pan and Venus; the trumpet, to Mars, &c. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 DESIGNS FOR BASS-RELIEFS PROPER TO STILL LIFE. 
 
 iTH flowers suit Zephyrus and Flora, or Venus and Adonis, in courtship. 
 With fruits, Ceres and Pomona, or Pomona and Vertumnus. With grapes, Bac- 
 chus Ariadne and merry bacchanals; and, if there be mulberries among them, a 
 sleeping Silemis, and the nymph Mgle, is mosta greeable. 
 
181 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 With musical instruments, Apollo and the nine Muses ; Orpheus playing, or Avion 
 on the dolphin. With a timbrel, cornet, and cymbal, a bacchanalian sacrifice, feast, 
 
 or dancing. 
 
 To the three seasons, as Spring, Summer, and Autumn, in one piece, we may 
 apply Venus, Ceres, and Bacchus, sitting together, according to their ranks. I 
 exclude the Winter, as improper and disagreeable, and admitting of no other 
 than poor interpretations ; such as Hunger, Penury, &c. which this season brings 
 
 with it. 
 
 That these bass-reliefs may have due decorum, you must observe, that in garlands 
 they ought to be octangular ; in festoons, round ; and in groups, or bunches, square, 
 and parallel with the frame, especially when disposed hanging above, below, and on 
 the sides ; but when in corners, a compartment suits better, and this to be square 
 above, and semi-circular at bottom and both sides. Thus much as to close bass- 
 reliefs in general. As for the relief, the flatter it is the better, and without the least 
 ground-shade, in order to prevent all mastery and confusion. 
 
 Concerning the other sort of still life, either standing or lying in deep niches, or 
 on benches or tables, we have before observed, that it ought not to be represented 
 less than the life, and therefore must come quite forward in the piece, as appearing 
 then in its full force and quality ; even much better with a light coming from without, 
 than within ; a front than side light. 
 
 There are three sorts of grounds, which elegantly set off* fruits. Grapes, espe- 
 cially the blue, and cherries, blue plumbs, and all fruits inclinable to be dark, 
 require one of free-stone; but apples, peaches, and apricots, appear better on a 
 dark arey ground. There is a third sort, as pumpkins, melons, oranges, straw- 
 berries, and others, which best become a white ground, whether they be lying on a 
 bench or table, or in a deep niche. 
 
 I shall now describe some designs, which I hope will not be unacceptable to the 
 artist. The first contains the three blooming seasons. 
 
 A Picture, or Composition. 
 
 This piece exhibits a compass-headed niche, square within, and its depth equal 
 to its diameter : therein I place a beautiful vase, either of chrystal, copper, or 
 o>old, with flowers, of which I set the shortest stalk in the middle, and the others 
 spreading on the sides: above, in the middle, on a ring, I hang two or three 
 bunches of the largest sort of grapes: to the ring I fasten a small ribbon, on which 
 loosely hang ears of corn, intermixed with corn-flowers, taken up and tied in the 
 upper corners of the piece, and hanging down the sides : below, round the vase, 
 lies fine and palatable fruit, of the largest and best sort ; as melons, lemons, fresh 
 
182 Of Still Life. 
 
 ligs, pomegranates, walnuts, as well as apples, peaches, China oranges, &c. This 
 is the substance of the piece. 
 
 The disposition is thus. The festoons, in bunches of a hand’s length, are parted 
 with greens, and tied; which greens cover the stalks of corn, and being intermixed, 
 as is said, with some blue flowers, produce an agreeable mixture, without mastery. 
 The jaumbs setting them ofl; are grey stone, and the ribbon, dark violet- The 
 grapes of the largest sort, tied to a copper ring, are, in the middle, white, and 
 those hanging on each side, blue, with a green leaf or two : this group is well set 
 oft' against the shade of the hollow of the niche, without drawing the eye from the 
 principal. My intention is, to dispose the flowers into a large mass of beautiful 
 and light ones; the strongest and fullest to be in the middle, consisting of white, 
 yellow, and light red ; the highest next the grapes to be a turnsol, and on the 
 sides, others of less force and colour, intermixed here and there with a beautiful 
 blue one. And, because the vase, on account of the room which the fruits lying 
 about it, take up, cannot stand quite forward, the flowers spreading on the sides 
 must be in shade. The fruits I dispose contrary again ; as the largest on the left 
 side, and the smallest and most tender, such as peaches, apricots, and plumbs, on 
 the right: they should be fruits, especially the lemons, at least the size of 
 
 two doubled hands, "as being the chief of the group, and governing the rest. If, be- 
 sides the seasons, you w ould represent some other meanings, add a lyre, violin, or 
 other musical instrument, which may be set or hung agaiast the light side of the 
 aforesaid hollow ; and thus the piece is complete. 
 
 And now, curious still life painters ! view this example with attention, and con- 
 sider whether I propose to you any difficulty above your abilities. Ye flower 
 painters. Is it more troublesome and artful to imitate a grape, apple, or peach, than 
 arose, lily, or turnsol? And ye, who practice fruit only. What difficulty has a- 
 flower more than fruits, a pomegranate or melon, inwardly or outwardly? Any of 
 these may be set, standing or lying before you, as long as you please ; and so may 
 a harp, violin, lyre, or flute : these can store you, and are all in your power, and your 
 eyes can determine the proportions, measures, and foriiis, of all that stands still, 
 hangs, or lies, and the soft pencil, skilfully handled, brings them naturally and 
 properly on the cloth. Why then do ye so often obstinately build on a single sort? 
 A beautiful flower will certainly please the eye, but more, in conjunction with some 
 ftne musical instruments. Your cloth may take in some of each, and yet, ye most 
 times do it with a single sort. If it be a flower-piece, your cloth must however be 
 filled, as it also must, w hen the subject is fruits and musical instruments. When 
 we say, A man is a fine still life painter, we are to suppose, he paints every thing, 
 either standing still, lying, or hanging. 
 
Of Still Life. 
 
 183 * 
 
 Second Picture, being the reverse of the former. 
 
 The chief object in this arrangement, is a low or shallow basket of fruit, taking 
 up in breadth the major part of the opening. This basket is tilled with all sorts of 
 tender and palatable fruit. Instead of the grapes over it, I fasten to the ring a bunch 
 of flowers with elegant greens, tied up, as in the former, and against the jaumhs of 
 the niche, some musical instruments ; as a flute, trumpet, bassoons, cornets, haut- 
 boys, &c. On the right side of the basket lies a Porcelain dish of strawberries ; 
 and behind it, somewhat deeper in the niche, a wide glass of mulberries, &c. The 
 hanging festoons, on each side of the bunch of flowers, consist mostly of ears of corn 
 and greens. The main light takes the basket of fruit, consisting mostly of lightish 
 white, yellow, and somewhat red ones, and the shaded side, of dark, black, or violet. 
 The bunch of flowers over it, contrarily, is made up of blue, purple, violet, and a 
 little white and yellow. The musical instruments the same. The other things, en- 
 compassing these, as the ears of corn, and greens, explain themselves. 
 
 This piece, thus disposed and artfully executed, is a proper matching picture for 
 the preceding. 
 
 We shall add a third composition relating to music (implying harmony) no less 
 elegant than the former. 
 
 Third Ordonnance. 
 
 In the middle of the hollow of the niche, I place on a desk a large book of 
 music, opening long-ways ; on one side whereof is pricked the cantus, and on the 
 other, tl)e bass, either in church or chamber music. Over it, on the ring, 1 fasten 
 an ivory lyre, adorned with gold, and between its horns hangs a crown of laurel, 
 with a small olive, or myrtle branch. All the wind-instruments, before-mentioned, 
 together with the violin, must be disposed on the sides, and behind the book, and 
 forwards, some implements pertaining thereto, viz. a screw or two, piece of colo- 
 phony, box of strings, bassoon or hautboy reed, &c. all encompassed by a beautiful 
 festoon of flowers, intermixed with ears of corn. 
 
 This piece suits well between the two others. 
 
 As for the shape of all the three, they will be better, and look more noble, if 
 longer than wide. 
 
 There remains another sort of still life, which, with the preceding, would yield a 
 great variety. It consists of all sorts of rich things, as gold, silver, crystal, and 
 other glasses, pearls, precious stones, and mother-o -pearl. Such pieces are com- 
 monly called Vanitases. The famous Kalf has left many rare examples of these 
 things^ which deserve the highest commendation. 
 
 Now, to shew that in this branch the artist has plentiful materials for bringing him 
 
18 . 1 . 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 fioiii a, trade to an art ; or, iu better terms, for enricliing the productions of tlie hand 
 with those of the head, whereby he may be reputed an artful master, I shall sketch a. 
 fourth composition, taking for the subject, wisdom, riches, and honour. Soloino7i 
 only prayed for wisdom, and with it obtained riches and honour. 
 
 Fourth Picture. 
 
 I place in the middle of the piece every thing that is costly, viz. gold, silver, pots, 
 tankards, salvers, cups of mother-o’-pearl, crystal, candlesticks, heaps of gold and 
 silver coin, full purses, &c. On the ring above, I hang a small board, with this 
 motto in gold letters, Sapientia Nutrix; or, instead of the writing, I put in a golden 
 sun, on a sky-colour ground. On each side of it, I hang some books, festoon-wdse, 
 intermixed with laurels, naval and moral crowns, garlands of palm, laurel, myrtle, 
 oak, &c. and fastened to the upper corners of the piece, proceeding from the ring, and 
 hanging down the sides. About them might be twined a small streamer, with these 
 words : Lahoris ynerces, sapientia nutrix ; or Prcemia majora laborihus. 
 
 Now, to bring Wisdom, which is the principal part of the piece, into the middle, 
 we may, in lieu of the sun and books, hang above, on the ring, the golden fleece, and 
 exhibit below a sphinx, with some books and peaches. 
 
 There are other sorts of still life, as dead fish, cabbages, carrots, turnips, &c. 
 which being too low^ and poor, and bearing no particular significations, I think 
 unworthy to range with those before-mentioned, how well soever they be exe- 
 cuted, much less to adorn the cabinets of great and wise men. But dead hares, 
 partridges, pheasants, and all sorts of hunting equipage, may, as I have said, be 
 l^mise-worthy. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 REPRESENTATIONS OE STILL LIFE, APPLICABLE TO PARTICULAR 
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 Al THOUGH I have before said, that the famous Kalf excelled in still life, yet he 
 could give as little reason for what he did, as others before and since : he only ex- 
 hibited what occurred to his thoughts ; as a Porcelain pot or dish, gold cup, mum- 
 glass, rummer of wine, with lemon-peel hanging on it, clock, horn of mother-o’- 
 pearl, gold or silver footed, silver dish of peaches, or else cut China oranges or 
 lemons, a carpet, and other usual things, without any thought of doing something 
 of importance, which might carry some particular meaning, or be applicable to 
 
185 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 something. Nevertheless, to shew that this may be done as well in still life, as in 
 other representations, I shall give the following sketches made applicable to par- 
 ticular persons. 
 
 Picture^ or Composition^ adapted to a triumphant Warrior. 
 
 Herein we exhibit some arms, viz. a steel breast-piece, a helmet, elegantly 
 wrought, shield and sword, with the hilt representing an eagle or lion’s head, a pike 
 or spear, bent bow, and a quiver of arrows, also some crowms of laurel, palm, and 
 olive. Above, on the frame, may be fastened on two rings, a gold chain, to which 
 hangs a heart, beset with precious stones, coming down to the breast-piece, and 
 over it may be the motto of the hero to whom we apply the subject. We exhibit 
 further, a gold crown, bracelets and rings, a hat with feathers, and a diamond but- 
 ton and a trumpet. Under these lies an embroidered coat on the table, with a sleeve 
 hanging down from it. On the wall, or in a small table, may be seen in bass-relief 
 Apollo, having killed the dragon Python, or Perseus and Andromeda; or a man in a 
 lion’s skin, tearing open a tiger’s mouth, and near him a club. 
 
 Comment on the aforesaid Objects. 
 
 The breast-piece was anciently taken for a mark of understanding and defence; 
 for, as it guards the breast, it preserves life. 
 
 The helmet denotes an inclination for war, and a martial spirit. 
 
 The shield also, a token of defence, was so much regarded by the ancients, that 
 they made a present of it to conquerors, in consideration of their valour and con- 
 duct. Virgil, in his ninth hook, mentions Mneas's ordering a shield to he brought 
 to him, wherewith to reward the fidelity and valour of Nisns. The Argives had a 
 custom of marching young men (w'ho had by notable exploits merited the honour) 
 with the shield of Enhippus carried before them triumphantly, through their town 
 and territories. We also read, that the palladium, which the ancients believed fell 
 from heaven, was a shield, mysteriously representing the protection of the Roman 
 people and empire ; and, according to Numa PampiUus's explanation, the shield 
 implied success and prosperity, whereby he endeavoured to buoy and comfort the 
 Roman people, on their being sorely visited, in his eighth year, with a pestilence 
 which threatened the destruction of all Italy. The shields were moreover dedicated 
 to those, who had saved the town and commonwealth from any great and imminent 
 danger; and, to perpetuate such a benefaction, and as a spur to virtue, they caused 
 the story to be engraved or carved on their shields. The shield and pike also sig- 
 nify war, chiefly in retrieving the damages sustained by the enemy, and in putting 
 them to flight, and destroying them. Yet weapons are of little advantage, if not 
 
 VOL. II. 2 B 
 
186 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 used with wisdom and understanding; wherefore, we generally see represent- 
 
 ed wiih a shield and pike; the latter signifying force and quickness of apprehen- 
 sion. 
 
 The pike or spear, also denotes the spreading of a glorious name; for which 
 reason, according to Plutarch^ Lysippus adorned the statue of Alexander with it, 
 though others represented him with thunder in his hand, intending thereby to im- 
 mortalize the achievements of that hero. The pike or arrow also being thrown or 
 shot at a mark, hieroglyphically signifies the spreading of a glorious name ; yet, ac- 
 cording to the ancients, the pike or spear not only implied royal grandeur and autho- 
 rity, but was likewise the usual reward for those who had shewed their bravery in 
 conquering the enemy: as says, that Sicinnius Dentatus, for his admirable 
 
 valour, was presented with twelve pikes. F esius Pornpeius thiwk^s, that generals re- 
 ceived the pike or javelin, in token of their being intrusted with the principal ma- 
 nagement of the war and empire ; and, that therefore it was customary to sell the 
 prisoners publicly, sub hasta^ or under the pike or spear. 
 
 The sword, in reference to war, signifies fury, cruelty, fright, persecution, and 
 threatening with death. 
 
 The bent bow is likewise a sign of war ; and the arrows signify the people, or the 
 enlargement of power ; also velocity and quick motions. 
 
 The crown of laurel was the token of conquerors, and those who performed any 
 glorious act, as the ancient remains sufficiently inform us. And we learn from his- 
 tory, that the Roman generals and commanders used in their triumphs, to present a 
 crown of laurel to Jupiter Capitolinus. 
 
 The ancient Romans also used to bestow 2ipalm on those who triumphed, as a ge- 
 neral token of victory. And the palm-tree, though pressed by a heavy weight, will 
 yet grow against it : wherefore in hot battles, it is esteemed a token of victory, 
 which can only be got by a firm resolution to resist and despise dangers and adver- 
 sities. 
 
 The olive is likewise a mark of victory ; the ancients adorning their trophies and 
 w^arlike monuments with its branches, or decking the head of the conqueror with a 
 crown of its leaves. 
 
 The gold chain was the Roman reward for valour and virtue; it not only recom- 
 pensing merit, but serving for a badge of honour, glory, and esteem. The Roman 
 history informs us, that the son of Tarquinius Priscus, though but fourteen years of 
 age, charged the enemies in the open field and conquered them ; wherefore to im- 
 mortalize his valour, he was the first who was honoured with a gold chain; though,, 
 according to others, Hersilius the first born of the ravished Sabines at Rome, first 
 received that honour. We also read that Ricinnius Dentaius was sixty-three times 
 
Of Still Life, 187 
 
 rewarded with a gold chain, and twenty-five times with other gold or gilt pre- 
 sents. 
 
 The heart beset with precious stones, hanging down to the breast on a gold chain, 
 signifies, that wholesome advice and deliberation spring from the innermost of the 
 heart; wherefore those who triumphed were introduced with this gold chain about 
 their necks, in the utmost part whereof, or the heart hanging down to the breast, they 
 imagined were contained herbs and balm, which secured the triumphers from malice 
 and envy. Asconius particularly remarks, that the children of the nobles or free 
 citizens wore those chains ; but the Liherti or freed-men, for distinction’s sake, had 
 them only of silver and copper : to which Juvenal in his Satires alludes, saying. 
 The poor must be content with copper. 
 
 The gold crown and bracelets, which adorned both the shoulders and arms, were 
 likewise the rewards of great actions. These gifts were preseived foi posteiity, as 
 a spur for young people indefatigably to tread in the steps of their foretatheis. 
 Titus Livius, in his tenth Book says. That after the victory obtained over the Samnites 
 near Aquilonia, Papirius on that occasion presented Sp. Nautius, his nephew, Sput i~ 
 us Papirius^ four captains and a troop of pikemen, with bracelets and gold crowns ; 
 giving the other captains, foot-soldiers and horsemen, bracelets and ornaments of 
 silver, which they called Cornicula^ or little horns. And JDecius the Tribune re- 
 ceived a gold crown from Aulas Cornelius Cossus, for defending a certain strong 
 place belonging to the Pomans, against the Samnites^ and forcing them to raise the 
 siege. 
 
 The Romans also esteemed the rings as badges of honour and nobility : for, ac- 
 cording to Titus Livius^ in his third Book, treating of the second Punic war, on 
 Magos being dispatched by Hannibal to notify to the Carthagenians the bloody de- 
 feat of the Romans in the battle of Cannes, he poured out before them a heap ot 
 gold rings, taken as a booty from the slain ; adding, to extol the victory, that among 
 the Romans none but the great and noble were allowed to wear them. And towards 
 the close of his ninth Book, he relates, that on Flavius s being, in a public assembly, 
 chosen A^dilis, or superintendant of the public buildings, the nobility were so dis- 
 tinguished, that several of them laid down their gold rings and other tokens of ho- 
 nour and esteem. And the eloquent Cicero, in his fourth Oration against Verves, 
 reproaches him for bestowing in a public assembly of the people, the tokens of 
 honour, gold rings, on mean and unworthy people; with whom agrees Asconius, 
 saying. That the fasces, civic crown and gold rings were by the people looked on as 
 badges of liberty and nobility, and always attended with honour and profitable in- 
 comes. 
 
 The reputed the hat or cap as a token of noble extraction ; wherefore they 
 
 2 B 2 
 
188 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 represented the head of Ulysses covered with a hat or cap, as being noble both by 
 father and mother. For this reason, we commonly see on ancient coins and medals 
 a hat or cap circumscribed LIBERTAS. 
 
 The diamond is indisputably the hardest, and for its sparkling the most beautiful 
 and perfect of all precious stones, and (which is most surprising and remarkable) it 
 resists the consuming fire, without losing any of its virtue or excellence. Wherefore 
 it is used as an hieroglyphic of immovable firmness in prosperity and adversity: ac- 
 cordingly, the ancients also attributed to it a supernatural quality of freeing the 
 heart from vain fear and despair, and that it never left a man either in his pressures or 
 dangers, when principally he ought to be master of himself. 
 
 The plume of feathers also signifies honour and nobility, and. 
 
 The trumpet, esteem, and an immortal name. 
 
 The embroidered coat, called Tunica Palmata, was an under garment commonly 
 worn by those who triumphed ; according to Titus Livius in his tenth Book : and 
 Isidorus Hispalensis, in his Originium, lib. 19, says, That those who had conquered 
 used to receive a gown called Toga Palmata or Toga Picta, from the victories and 
 palm branches worked in it. And 3Iacrohius, lib. 11, Saturnal, cap. 6, affirms, that 
 Tullus Hostilius first introduced this garment among the Romans. 
 
 The two first bass-reliefs explain themselves, and by the third we mean str ngth ; 
 for the lion’s skin implies high understanding and resolution of mind, and the club, 
 conduct and intrepidity. 
 
 Second Picture relatwg to a Judge. 
 
 In this we represent a pair of scales, a sword, looking glass, sceptre topped with 
 an eye, a board with a triangle thereon inclosing the number I. and the image of 
 truth, an hazel wand and fasces, a scythe, rod, axe, gold chain, staff twined with 
 ivy, a large folio book, whereto is affixed the coat of arms of the commonwealth ; 
 and on the w'all a fruitful palm-tree in bass-relief. 
 
 Explanation of these Objects. 
 
 The scales commonly placed in the hand of Justice signify, that weighing all 
 men’s actions, she assigns to every one what God has decreed him ; wherefore the 
 heathens also represented Astrcea ascended to heaven, and seated there between the 
 lion and scales; intimating thereby, that a judge ought resolutely to punish trans- 
 gressions according to their irrerit, without respecting persons. 
 
 The sword likewise signifies justice and the severity of the law; according to the 
 apostle, “ A ruler is the minister of God, and bears not the sword in vain, to exe- 
 cute wrath on him that doth evil. ’ 
 
189 
 
 [Of Still Life, 
 
 The looking glass in the hand of prudence denotes reforming of manners. 
 
 The ancient Egyptians, by the hieroglyphic figure of the sceptre with an open 
 eye, signified the absolute authority of equity and prudence ; which, always watch- 
 ing and penetrating men’s actions, justly reward each according to his deserts. 
 
 Elutarch, in his doctrine of the Pythagoreans, intimates, that the triangle is the 
 most perfect figure of justice. Some place the number I. within it, because we 
 therein see the godly character of the Almighty. 
 
 The image of truth explains itself. 
 
 The hazel wand signifies ecclesiastical, and the fasces, secular dignity ; or reli- 
 gion and policy. i . ? 
 
 The scythe is the hieroglyphic of chastisement; as we read in the prophet Z^echa- 
 
 riah, that the scythe he saw in a vision, was going forth to cut off all those who stole 
 
 The rod also implies punishment, for the support of good discipline and laws ac- 
 cording to equity and justice. 
 
 The Romans and some of the Greeks took the axe hieroglyphically for heavy chas- 
 tisement ; we seeintbeine ials and coins of Tenedos, mentioned by Pollux: for the 
 king of feuedos having published a law, that any person cattght in adulteiy should 
 be put to death with the axe, and in compliance therewith not spared his own son, he 
 command d this story to he struck on the coins and medals, in order to betheieby 
 immoriaiized. 
 
 The Egyptians likewise applied the Bulla, or gold chain and heart to their judges ; 
 intimating, that making pure truth their only aim, they ought to be impartial, and 
 give ju gment without respect of persons. 
 
 The staff twined with ivy signifies, that justice ought to be protected : for by 
 the stalf is understood authority, and by the ivy protection, which should always 
 
 flourish. 
 
 The large folio book contains the statutes and ordinances of the country. 
 
 The fruit of the palm-tree represented in bass-relief, being of equal size with the 
 leaves, the ancients would thereby signify justice and equity. This tree also con. 
 sisting of lasting matter, and not altering or decaying so soon as others, serves for a 
 pattern of the maintenance of justice without impediment or alteration: and as it 
 never drops its leaves as others do, and resists all pressure and weight, thereby is 
 implied thai judges ought not to be biassed, but withstand those who endeavour to 
 draw them from their duty by fair words, gifts, or intrigues. 
 
 Picture relating to a Lawyer, 
 
 In this table we exhibit a plaister figure of Mercury winged at head and feet, stand- 
 
190 
 
 Of sun Life. 
 
 ing on a square stone pedestal, having in one hand his golden cciduceus twined with 
 serpents, and in the other an olive branch. By him is a plaister sphinx. Also 
 a sword and shield, a lyre or harp, a burning lamp, an ink-horn with pens and a roll 
 of paper, a seive, some of the principal law books, and a Bible. In a small vase or 
 pot may be set an iris or two. Above on a ring hang three garlands, one composed 
 of laurel and ivy, another of cedar and myrtle, and the third of oak leaves. On 
 the wall, or in a small table, we see in bass-relief the fable of M.i7ievv(t brought 
 forth out of Jupiter s brain. 
 
 Explanation of the Objects. 
 
 Mercury implies the impression of words upon the mind, and the force of elo- 
 quence : wherefore the ancients believed he was the messenger and the interpreter 
 of the gods. 
 
 The square stone whereon he stands signifies the regard for and stability of the 
 law s and rules whereby to direct our speeches : for w^hich reason Mercury is styled 
 Tetragonus or square, that is, firm and certain. 
 
 His staff or caduceus intimates, that obstinate tyrants must yield to the laws and 
 fluent charms of eloquence. By the serpents twined about the golden rod, the an- 
 cients mean that eloquence, tempered with ingenuity and prudence, can easily bring 
 men to reason. Some also would have the golden rod in the hand of Mercury, to 
 signify, the excellence and eminence of honourable offices due to those who employ 
 their eloquence (the gift of heaven) in their neighbours’ welfare and the common 
 good. 
 
 By the olive branch in Mercury's hand is understood peace; for the ancients be- 
 lieved it composed the differences of contending parties. 
 
 His wings at head and feet were assigned him to signify the readiness and force 
 of eloquence. 
 
 The sphinx shews, that nothing is so abstruse or occult that a lawyer's penetrating 
 judgment cannot clear. 
 
 We compare jurisprudence to the sword and shield : for as a warrior thereby de- 
 fends himself and annoys his enemy, so a council gets his cause by dint of strong 
 arguments and well-grounded conclusions. 
 
 The ancient Romans signified by the lyre or harp, a man of great learning and 
 judgment ; for that instrument is composed of divers strings and sounds, producing 
 fine harmony ; like the lawyer when he reconciles the difference of things to reason, 
 in order to make contesting parties agree. By the harp or lyre we also understand, 
 that harmony arises from different and dissonant cords, and that people of contrary 
 sentiments meeting together, may, by a good union, settle and transmit to posterity 
 

 Of Still Life, 191 
 
 an excellent form of government. And as Plato, in his Timcens, styles the soul a 
 concert or sweet harmony, so concord may be justly called the soul of the state. 
 The Greeks and Romans say, the lyre was partly invented by Mercury, and partly 
 
 by others. , 
 
 The shape of the ancient lyre is this it was bent like two horns joined together, 
 
 having a swelling belly and on top a handle. It is said to have had but three strings, 
 and these could produce seven tunes, making a perfect harmony. The three strings 
 ^vere assigned in imitation of the three seasons of the year known to the Egyptians, 
 viz. summer, winter, and spring, each consisting of four months ^ ami they attri~ 
 bated the cantus to the summer, the bass to the winter, and the treble to the spring. 
 Others say that this application respects man; whose body, consisting of four ele- 
 ments, and the soul, in reference to its acts of three, thus makes the number seven;, 
 which together produce a perfect harmony. 
 
 Darkness liies the light of true knowledge and understanding. Wherefore the lamp 
 is sometimes taken for the works done by its light ; for as the night through its 
 stillness is very - proper for study, so the Greek poets also gave the nig'ht a name 
 which signihed the producing understanding, wisdom, and gladness ; as the mind 
 is then apt for meditation. Accordingly the old proverb of the students is. Plus old 
 quam vmi; He spent more in oil than wine ; meaning more time in diligent labour of 
 the mind to attain sciences, than in taking walks, feasting, or other diversions. Epi- 
 cJiarmus used to say, That he who would study great things, must not, for the sake 
 of ease, spare the nights. 
 
 The Egyptians understood by the ink-horn, pens, and roll of paper, all things 
 whereby arts and sciences might be represented. 
 
 By the sieve, the same people hieroglyphically meant, the fruitfulness of instruc- 
 tion in arts and sciences; also the writers of sacred and mysterious things; for as 
 the sieve separates the good from the bad, so their lawyers, who were also styled 
 priests, knew how, through their prudence and wisdom, to distinguish between 
 things concerning life and death ; accordingly, they made use of the word seive for 
 expressing w' hat is true and known. Others say, that by that implement is signified 
 a man of great knowledge and perfection, who can discourse of things divine and 
 human with equal penetration. Moreover, as the sieve separates the flour from the 
 bran, so experience fits us for discerning between good or bad, right or wrong. 
 Wherefore Virgil, in the first Book of his Georgies, rightly styles it Mystica V annus 
 lacchi, the mystic fan or sieve of lacchus. Some apply to this point the saying of 
 the philosopher, Antisthenes; that it were great folly not to know how to distinguish 
 the corn from the chaff; meaning the learned and beneficial citizens from illiterate. 
 
 Next to the Bible, the chief authors for law are, viz. among the Greeks, Solon, Ly- 
 
192 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 curgus, Demosthenes, Isocrates : among Cato, Cicero, Jlortensius, and 
 
 Casar; their Leges and Orationes, also the Corpus Byzantiniim and Corpus Juris 
 Or Justinianeuin, compiled by Theophilus and Doretheus, senators under the em- 
 peror from a series of ancient law books : among the Spaniards, Didacus 
 
 Cceverruvius, Francisco de Salgado, secretary to Philip II. and Ferdinandes Vas- 
 quius. Fi'e^ich, Jacobus Ciijacins, and Marcus Antonins ^\.uretus: among 
 
 the Germans, Fritchius and Carpzovius: and, among the Dutch, Hugo Grotius, 
 Groenewegan, &c. 
 
 The herb or flower Iris is an emblem of eloquence according to Homer, who, to 
 describe, that of the Frojan ambassadors, represents them as having eaten the bloom- 
 ing Iris; meaning their being thoroughly skilled in pleasing eloquence; for that 
 flower, by its variety of colours, is not unlike the heavenly Iris or rainbow, wdiom 
 the ancients accounted the goddess of eloquence. 
 
 The garland or laurel intermixed with ivy leaves signifies that lawyers are, for 
 their excellent labours and parts to be had in perpetual remembrance : for, by the 
 laurel, the ancients understood a natural force and fruitfulness of understanding, and 
 by the ivy, which though at first creeping along the ground, at last tops the highest 
 trees and buildings, the skill or experience w'hich lawyers obtain by continual la- 
 bour and practice. 
 
 It will not be disagreeable to that body of men, that for immortalizing their names 
 and memories, we add the garland of cedar and myrtle to the laurel and ivy ; since, 
 concerning great and eloquent men, we may very w^ell conclude with Persius and 
 Horace, Cedro digna loculi. They have spoken things worthy to be cut in cedar, or to 
 be everlasting; for the cedar is, among the trees, the emblem of eternity, as never 
 rotting or mouldering through age ; wherefore the Ark of the Covenant was also 
 made of it. The myrtle signifies a mind enriched with many endowments. 
 
 Among the crowns, with which the Romans used to adorn the heads of legislators 
 and pleaders, that of oak-leaves was in great esteem, as implying the conservation of 
 the town and citizens. Several reasons are assigned for this sort of crowns. Some 
 say, that originally the Arcadians w'ere first honoured with it for the antiquity of 
 their oracles. Others think it proceeded from that tree being sacred to Jupiter, the 
 patron of the Dodonccan oracle, and protector of towns ; and that therefore it was 
 very reasonable to crown those who had saved a citizen, either by arms or law, with 
 the leaves of that tree, dedicated to the tutelar god of all towns. Others are of 
 opinion, that the oak was the first made of all trees, and has been the first nourisher 
 of mankind, and material for the oracles. We see to this day a certain medal with 
 this Do) ic insciiption, EIIEIPQTAN, representing an eagle treading on thunder, and 
 
Of Still Life, ^ 193 
 
 two oak branches bent garland-ways ; which was doubtless the coin of Epirus, al- 
 luding to the oak of Chaonia and the Dodoncean oracle. 
 
 By Minerva proceeding from Jupiter'^ brain we represent the nature and activity 
 of understanding and wisdom for gaining jurisprudence ; she likewise implies ma- 
 ture and wary deliberation. Wherefore some hold, that Jupiter knew Metis, or 
 Counsel and Prudence, and then brought forth Minerva', for wisdom and under- 
 standing are only attainable by mature deliberation and advice. 
 
 Picture or Composition relating to a Divine, 
 
 We exhibit herein a Bible or Scripture, a small altar, a burning lamp, breast-plate, 
 sw'ord, two arrows, a drum or timbrel, table bell, harp, cistern, and censer, sieve, 
 measure of corn, basket of bread, and a lump of leaven, a salt-cellar with salt, a white 
 linen girdle, bundle of flax, waggon-wheel, sapphire ring, olive branch, sheet of 
 paper, whereon are three conjoined circles inclosed within a fourth, and under them 
 an equilateral triangle and a square. In a small picture fs seen a landscape exhibit- 
 ing among other things a rock, a palm, a cedar-tree, and a hill sending forth abun- 
 dance of water. On the wall, in a bass-relief, is an elephant rearing his trunk to- 
 wards heaven, as also a stork and cock : but above all we must not forget the fruit- 
 ful mustard-seed, a sprig whereof we have set in a pot or vase on the table with the 
 other objects ; an explanation whereof follows. 
 
 Adamantius and others tells us, that the powers of the universe must yield to the 
 dictates of religion. A further explanation of the Bible is unnecessary, since it is 
 sufficiently known to every body. 
 
 The altar is accounted the hieroglyphic of piety, of which I have treated in 
 Book IX. . 
 
 Plutarch compares the lamp to the body, the habitation of the soul ; and its shin- 
 ing light to the faculty of understanding. But in scripture we often find, that by 
 the lamp are meant the doctors and teachers of arts, sciences, and mysteries, who 
 should be set on the candlestick, in order to expel darkness, and light those in the 
 house. In another passage it is said. That the light ought not to be hidden, &c. 
 And if the light, according to Scholasticus in his Climax, come to be in daikness, 
 what will not the darkness of nature, or men ignorant of God, be guilty of? Some 
 again understand by the light the gospel ; others, St. John the Eaptisi, who is also 
 called a burning lamp. The prophets were also lamps, but burning dim, as speak- 
 ing mysteriously : but St. John, as with a finger, has pointed out our Saviour. Euche- 
 rius observes, that by the lamp is sometimes meant good works; and therefore the 
 gospel says, “ Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good 
 works,” &c. The light or fire sometimes, likewise, hieroglyphically signifies devo- 
 
 VOL. II. 2 c 
 
194 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 tion and piety. If earthly things can in any ways unite us with the heavenly, no- 
 thing in nature has greater affinity with the mind and spirit than fire, because it 
 lights and clears every thing, and makes us intimate with heaven. 
 
 The philosopher Antisthenes, speaking of the breast-plate, commonly said, “ That 
 virtue was a constant defence, because it could never be lost ; for the arms of wis- 
 dom and understanding are lasting to those who are rightly arrayed with them.’" 
 In which sense St. Paul exhorts his congregation, “ To put on the armour of faith, 
 for quenching the fiery darts of the wicked,” agreeable to Horace, 
 
 «« Qii{ pectui preeceptis format amicisJ"* 
 
 The apostle St. Paul says, ‘‘ That the word of God is quick and powerfhl, and 
 sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul 
 and Spirit, and of the joints and marrow.” Intimating, that though the stone in the 
 kidneys seem incurable, yet the word of God can convert and cure the hard stone 
 of our unbelief. For by our Saviour’s coming on earth, we have learnt what the 
 flesh and spirit incline to ; and his doctrine has, like a two-edged sword, divided the 
 spirit from the flesh, that we might afterwards lead a spiritual life, as being not in 
 the flesh but in the spirit, esteeming the corruption of the flesh a great gain, when 
 through the spirit we obtain eternal life. 
 
 Eucherius thinks that the words in Psalm cxxvii. “As arrows are in the hand of 
 a mighty man, so are the children of the youth, allude to the apostles and their mis- 
 sion into all countries ; because in their travels they pierced men’s hearts with the 
 doctrine of Christ, as with a darting arrow, and brought them from darkness to 
 light ; for by the arrows, in several places of scripture, is understood God’s word 
 penetrating the soul as with a two-edged sword. 
 
 We find in sacred writ that the Almighty is to be praised with drums or timbrels. 
 And Gregory, in the Sixth Book of his Epistles to Athanasius, emblematically shews 
 by the drum kind remembrance ; for, says he, “ As the materials of that instrument 
 are long before prepared to fit it for sound, so a man should piously endeavour to 
 thank his Creator, and loudly praise him for his benefits.’* 
 
 The bells hanging, according to Moses's command, at the hem of the high-priest’s 
 garment, emblematically signified the publishing of God’s will ; and his being heard 
 by their tingling, on entering into or coming forth of the Holy of Holies, intimates, 
 that the ministry should always have the word and laws of God in their mouths, for 
 rebuking, exhorting, or comforting, according to the weakness and transgressions of 
 men. 
 
 The harp formerly represented all kinds of arts and virtues ; and Eusebius thinks 
 
195 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 it takes its name from a Gveeh word, signifying as much as to instruct in excellent 
 sciences. And thus the songs of Orpheus and Proclus among the heathens, and 
 David among the Jews, have powerfully incited to good living. 
 
 By water and fire, or the cistern and censer, the Egyptian priests understood a 
 purgation from spots and filthy even from the darkness of ignoiance by means of 
 pure doctrine. Accordingly, after funerals, the ancients purified themselves with 
 water and smoking perfumes, the latter hieroglyphically representing prayers and 
 divine doctrine, as Hesy chins, bishop of Jerusalem, writes. 
 
 The same people meant by the sieve the fruitfulness of instruction in arts and sci- 
 ences. Others the end of all things ; as, by often examining ourselves to learn quiet- 
 ness of life, and by due reflection on what is past, present, and to come, to make pros- 
 perity and adversity equal. 
 
 Doctrine and instruction those people called sbo, which being interpreted signi- 
 fies plenty, or all that is necessary for life ; as if the study of sciences required a 
 good fortune. Aristotle says, “ The rich should study philosophy.” And Zechariah, 
 a noted man'among the Jews, ‘‘ If you have flour, you will learn the law: if you 
 have knowledge in the law you will want no flour.” The law implying knowledge 
 and sciences, and the flour every thing necessary for^^sustenance. But I think, ac- 
 cording to Egyptian wisdom, that this doctrine rather respects the soul than the 
 body ; for it is believed that the basket of unleavened bread, which Aaron and his sons 
 only were to offer, hieroglyphically signified the tongue or word, or eternal and hea- 
 venly eloquence ; for as bread supports the body, so the word of God nourishes to 
 eternal life. And because bread, by a general consent, implies doctrine and instruc- 
 tion, to whom must we return our thanks, but to him who by his doctrine has en- 
 lightened our understanding, and is the fountain of plenty and perfection. In this 
 sense the bread called the loaves of two-tenths of fine flour offered, as in Liviticus 
 xxiii. for a meat offering, signified the law and the gospel ; but, according to our Sa- 
 viour, when under telnpation, that, “ A man did not live by bread alone, but by every 
 word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” 
 
 In baking, the leaven has in scripture divers significations : among others, it implies 
 human sciences. Now sciences are divided into human and divine, the former sub- 
 ject to the diversity of words, but the latter constant and everlasting; for what is 
 once truly perfect always remains so ; and the fire which once warms will always 
 warm, as long as it is fire. Eternal providence and government of all created beings 
 are endless ; and thus nature, philosophy, ethics, and theology, are very conformable 
 to the Deity, but grammar, rhetoric, and dialectica are called human sciences: 
 wherefore, says Origines, “ The leaven is not used in offerings.” For divines under- 
 stand by it human sciences, the matter and force whereof lies only in words, which 
 
 2 c 2 
 
196 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 nevertheless are aids ; because the purity of speech, which grammar teaches, shews 
 the beauty and excellence of eloquence obtained by rhetoric, and the method o-f 
 reasoning and opposition, gained by dialectica, is a help to many other sciences. 
 
 Philosophers say, that the products of the earth are owing to salt. Divines com- 
 pare It to the gospel, alledging Leviticus, chap. 2. “ With all thine offerings thou 
 shalt offer salt or, in all your doctrines you must be governed by those of the 
 apostles, who, according to our Saviour, are the salt of the earth. The frankincense 
 put on the twelve cakes, according to the Jewish rite, the seventy interpreters have 
 rendered salt, to signify the apostolical doctrine ; for, as salt makes meat palatable, 
 so, according to Hesychius, instruction and exhortation cause in us a smell and taste 
 of divine wisdom ; whereby our good works, as faith, hope, and charity, produce 
 fruit acceptable to God. 
 
 The Jewish priests were commanded to set the people a pattern of chastity, piety, 
 and good behaviour, and to be always ready to walk in God’s paths, as appears by 
 the white linen girdle, signifying the most sacred and mysterious doctrine, by which 
 they ought to govern themselves and their congregations. Jeremiah's girdle had the 
 same meaning, as Cyril largely shews. As the girdle was white linen, we are led to 
 consider the first matter it was made of, to wit, flax. 
 
 The seed of flax comes up as green as grass in a short time after sowing ; and 
 having blossomed and set its seed, it is then pulled, and rotted in water, and after- 
 wards laid to dry in the sun ; and then being beaten to a softness, it is combed and 
 hatchelled, and spun into thread : after boiling in strong lye, it is made into a w^eb 
 of linen, and whitened for a dress to appear in before God. The care necessary 
 about this herb, which is an emblem of undefiled life, ought continually to be had in 
 view, that laying aside things vain and unprofitable, we may, by means of science, 
 render ourselves irreprovable, and through adversity and temptations obtain the 
 white garment of glory. The quick and easy growth of flax, shews how easily vir- 
 tues and sciences are attainable, if we set readily about them. Hesychius under- 
 stands by the flax the frail efforts of mortals, and the thread of the Alihighty’s will 
 always remaining with us; wherefore it is the duty of the ministry, by their constant 
 labours, to give out the flax whereof to prepare a garment of good works. 
 
 Many among the learned emblematically signify by the waggon-wheel, divinity ; 
 because, the wheel never touching the ground but in one point, so the soul ought to’ 
 be elevated towards God. Thus divines are rightly compared to a wheel ; that by 
 forsaking earthly thoughts, their conversation should always be in heaven. 
 
 The sapphire was always in great esteem, as emblematically representing sove- 
 reignty and priesthood. Some say, that this- stone draws heavenly influences from 
 Jupiter and Sahirn, and that those who wear it obtain all their desires ; as from 
 
197 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 Jupiter, (loniinion and authority, and from Saturn, the priesthood : but, according 
 to the fathers, this stone represents the throne spoken of by Ezelciel, to wit, the seat 
 of God, eternal, good, and Almighty : and Eucherius understands by the make of 
 the heavens, the society of the pious and elect : wherefore, says Hesychius, The 
 throne of sapphire signifies the tenth or empireal heaven : for, by the colour he un- 
 derstands purity, clearness, and heavenly light, always instructing the church in un- 
 alterable and pure doctrines. 
 
 We learn from scripture, that the olive-tree was originally the emblem of peace ; 
 for, no sooner did the w^aters abate, but the dove, which Noah sent, soon after letinn- 
 ed with an olive-leaf, as a token that the wrath of Heaven being appeased, God took 
 compassion on the remains of human race, and other creatures in the ark; and 
 therefore caused the waters to retire into the bowels of the earth. The oliye-branch 
 is also in scripture the emblem of a pious man ; as we see in the Gospel, that the 
 “ Light ought to burn pure on the candlestick,” whereby our Saviour intimates, that 
 both preachers and hearers should fill their lamps with the oil of Christian virtues. 
 The same tree, for its continual verdure, is also taken for the emblem of hope ; ac- 
 cordingly, BasiUus wished we might be like it, because, abounding with blossoms and 
 shining greenness, it always affords hope of what is to come ; or the durable fruits of 
 piety and mercy. 
 
 The wisest ^Egyptians and Greeks did, when men’s understandings were simple 
 and void of sophistry, very properly call the chain of certain sciences, Encyclopcedia ; 
 as being by three circles so linked together, that the centre of the one is the be- 
 ginning of the other, and those inscribed within a larger, called theology . for the 
 inner .circles signify human sciences, which, getting root by means of custom, rea- 
 son and nature are perversely taken for infallible; but the circle inscribing them 
 denotes divine sciences. We understand the same things emblematically of the 
 dress and ornaments of the high-priest among the Jews; for his girdle implied ir- 
 reproveable manners ; his priestly garb, truth, sound doctrine, and discourses, 
 which, with their explanations, let men into the knowledge of things, or philoso- 
 phy ; and his glittering robe signified pure divinity, having no other tendency but a 
 correction of manners, and leading to virtue and heaven. Scripture teaches, that 
 “ The spirit of wisdom enters not into the heart of the wicked ; accordingly, 31oses 
 denied the unclean and sinful entrance into the tabernacle ; thereby intimating, that 
 those who improve in virtue and the knowledge of God, ought, by the use of the 
 five loaves (according to Cyril) or the five tart books of the law, to prepare their 
 hearts for the two fishes, or the doctrine of the Evangelists and Apostles, and there- 
 in to preserve. Next to the science for the improvement of manners, divines should 
 endeavour at distinctness, plainness, and order in their speeches, which the learned 
 
198 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 call dialectica, whose province is to determine controversies, and resolve doubts 
 by reasoning justly; for although, like Moses, they practised moral duties, and 
 were received into the sanctuary, yet they touched not on sacred things, otherwise 
 than by means of their speeches. After this, they inquired into natural philosophy, 
 or physics, having for the subject, the universe, and all created beings ; this science 
 cleared their doubts and scruples, and prepared them for contemplating the glori- 
 ous building of the heavens, in order to thank their Creator for the knowledge 
 received. Their last study was theology, which, as we have said, comprehends all 
 sciences ; this gives divines such a constant peace, as neither the regularity of hu- 
 man deportment, purest eloquence, or the most exact inquiries into nature, could 
 afford them. But this unchangeable peace and firm alliance with God, they obtain, 
 by submitting their knowledge, inclinations, and carnal affections, to the rules 
 prescribed by reason. This mutual friendship, which the Pythagoreans esteemed 
 the main point in philosophy, leads us into the most secret part of the sanctuary, 
 in order to view the glory of God, till, at last, arriving at the highest degree of 
 knowledge, we courageously defeat Osiris, or the enemy of our souls. 
 
 Though the aforesaid instruction consists of four parts, yet Solomon, the wisest 
 of men, divides it into three sciences, to wit— ethics, physics, and metaphysics, 
 which he has treated in his Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song, or Canticum Cantu 
 eoaum ; teaching in the Proverbs, moral obligations ; in Ecclesiastes, the nature of 
 things ; and, in his Song, the contemplation of things supernatural. This seems 
 well to agree with the mention in Scripture of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Ja- 
 cob ; for Abraham's obeying God in all things, shews an example of moral duties: 
 Isaac's digging wells, and searching the depths of the earth, signifies physics, or 
 natural philosophy; and Jacob’s dream of the ladder, and the ascent and descent 
 of the angels thereon, the contemplation of divine things. Both the Hebrew, Greek, 
 and Latin divines have largely treated this subject. Even the elements seem to 
 inculcate this doctrine ; for the earth, water, and air, by their wonderful conjunc- 
 tion, represent the different degrees of the sciences ; the earth and moisture, im- 
 plying the history of things, as a teacher of moral duties : the waters, disturbed 
 by the winds, shew the turmoils happening in human actions, which ethics serve to 
 allay: the air admonishes, that, at length raising the whole force of our thoughts 
 upwards, we ought continually to contemplate the divine nature, called by the 
 Greeks, Theologia, which is the top and limit of our understanding. We say 
 nothing here of dialectica, because it is subservient to ethics, physics, and theology, 
 in order to discourse of those three sciences. 
 
 By the equilateral triangle we signify, the aim and purpose of a holy and inno- 
 cent life; because, to make it both edifying and happy, three duties are necessary. 
 
199 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 to wit to give our neighbour wholesome advice, to judge justly, and to do well; 
 
 wherefore Pallas was by the heathens called Tritorda, as having the care of im- 
 partial justice. The Mgyptians and Greeks, who were chiefly famous for emble- 
 matic learning, judiciously understood by the triangle the assiduity of human 
 understanding, in searching into things heavenly, earthly, and subterranean. Others 
 would signify by it mathematics, physics, and metaphysics, with which the opinion 
 of Socrates well agrees. 
 
 The square implies constancy and immoveableness ; because, however turned, 
 it always shews four lines, and as many angles ; these, though mathematical obser- 
 vations, are very applicable to those who love piety and other Christian virtues, 
 since they remain constantly with them, and embalm their memories to posterity. 
 Aristotle, in his first Book of Moral Duties, and third Book to Theodat, is of the 
 same opinion, believing that man, by comparison, may be called square, or perfect 
 and pious. This quadrates with the Latin proverb ; Quadragonum in se perfectum, 
 et criwinis expers ,* i. e. The square is perfect, and not liable to censure. Ancient 
 divines teach, that NoaKs ark, which God commanded to be built square, signified 
 the excellent pastors of the church, by whose instruction, notwithstanding any 
 snares or heresies, men were led to eternal happiness : for Adamantius exhorts ta 
 build square libraries, not of stone or wood, but of the books of the prophets» 
 apostles, and teachers, out of which may be abundantly learnt true wisdom and 
 divine mysteries ; and, renouncing sin, to turn and adhere to the trae and immutable 
 corner-stone of salvation. 
 
 The ancient Mgyptians hieroglyphically signified by the rock, firmness and con- 
 stancy ; wherefore David, speaking of God’s assistance, says, “ Thou art my rock.” 
 And our Saviour, imitating the duration of the church, says, “ He will build it 
 on a rock Agreeable whereto is the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, in which he saw a 
 great image, whose head was of gold, breast and arms of silver, belly and thighs 
 of brass, and legs and feet of iron and clay : and that a stone was cut out without 
 hands, which smote the image, and broke it in pieces, which the wind carried 
 away, so that no place was found for them ; and the stone that smote the image 
 became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth. 
 
 The palm-tree, as having the lower part of its stem thin and knotty, but higher 
 up becoming thick, and agreeable for its continual elegant and spreading verdure, 
 signifies, that how abject soever the condition of the righteous may be in the begin- 
 ning, they at last gain wonderful beauty in virtues and good qualities. But let 
 me add the words of the pious and learned Eucherius : “ The palm-tree,” says he, 
 “ differs from all others, because they are thickest downwards, and run tapering 
 upwards, and with more pointed branches ; and these may be compared to world- 
 lings, who, slighting the best things, seek their satisfaction only in the frail and 
 
200 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 momentary : these men spare no labour or troulile ia heaping riches ; will even pur-- 
 chase temporal honours at the hazard of their lives ; but stop at once when they are 
 to bestow an hour’s service on their Creator, or to succour a distressed neighbour; 
 whereas, the pious may be rightly compared to the palm-tree, which, by its tender 
 stem, despising earthly pleasures, exalts its virtue on high, that it may adhere to 
 and obey the will of the Creator : wherefore it is said, that the righteous shall grow 
 and blossom as the palm-tree. 
 
 The cedar-tree, as yielding excellent and useful fruit, is the emblem of mercy 
 and piety ; two virtues best becoming the pillars of the church, wdio are “ Con- 
 tinually to watch over the lost sheep of the house of Israel' and to practise works 
 of mercy on them, according to St. James: “ Pure religion and undefiled before 
 God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and Avidows in their afflictions, 
 and to keep himself unspotted from the world. 
 
 We read in the Psalms, that “ From the springing Avaters of Israel comes forth the 
 praise of the Lord in the congregation of the saints by Avhich divines understand 
 the books of the laAv and prophets, AA'hich as springs of living Avaters supplied the 
 Israelites Avith the knowledge of God, and being filled with his Spirit, their holy men 
 composed hymns to the glory of his name. Several commentations on scripture and 
 illustrious instruments of the church Avould signify, by the springing waters, the apo- 
 stles and first teachers ; and Euthymius and the primitive fathers, the preaching of 
 the gospel. And David, in Ps. civ. says, “ He sends the springs into the valleys which 
 run among the hills ; they give drink to every beast of the field ; thereby intimating, 
 that no place is so hilly and unattainable, which God’s laAv cannot penetrate.” 
 
 Writers mention, that the elephant (who is known to be the most docible of qua- 
 drupedes, and by nature superior to other beasts) particularly loves charity and 
 piety ; for as soon as the new moon enlightens the earth, he purifies himself in a 
 clear river: and when sick, takes grass and other herbage Avith his trunk, and flings 
 it towards heaven, as if he thereby invoked the divine assistance in his Aveak condition. 
 
 Scripture, as remarkably speaking of the stork, emblematically means a purified 
 understanding, and a mind exalted above earthly things : for this bird always builds 
 on the tops of the highest houses to save himself from the Aviles of beasts ; and after 
 hatching his young, is at continual Avar with the snake, which always creeping on the 
 ground and into the holes thereof, is an emblem of vicious affections : wherefore, 
 in imitation of the stork, men should exalt their minds and seek a dAvelling place in 
 heaven, where they Avill be freed from all the wiles of the flesh and the crafts of the 
 devil. 
 
 The ancients understood by the emblem of the cock, the immortality and divinity 
 of the soul ; and Pythagoras commanded his followers to feed and nurse the cock, 
 meaning that they should feed their souls with the knowledge of divine things ; 
 
201 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 wherefore Socrates when dying, full of hope of a speedy union of his immortal soul 
 with the deity, said he was bound in duty to offer a cock to Msculapius^ meaning the 
 physician of the soul; for, knowing his dissolution w^as at hand, he believed he 
 should now be cured of all his infirmities. Vlato's followers and commentators say, 
 that the offering a cock implies the soul’s departure for heaven, to publish for ever 
 the glory of Phoehus. 
 
 By the mustard-seed are signified things, which from small and mean beginnings 
 produce plenty of fruit : wherefore our Saviour says, “ If ye have faith as a grain of 
 mustard-seed,” &c. For though the seed of this plant be small, yet, being duly hus- 
 banded in good ground, it yields a plant surpassing all others, which in a short time 
 becomes a tree the fowls of the air to build in : and such is the fruitfulness of 
 divinity, which, proceeding from small seed, soon becomes a tree, the expansion of 
 whose branches shades the whole earth, and yields a place for the fowls of the air to 
 lodge in ; or, according to Hesychius, “ Men taken up with the contemplation of di- 
 vine things.” Other learned men say, That this seed implies the wonderful power of 
 God, which, as small and contemptible seed, lies hid in the reading of scripture, and 
 despised by many for its tartness ; but on chewing, strengthens and cleanses the 
 stomach, corrects vapours and humidities disturbing the brain, and refines the taste, 
 in order to our more exact search into the writings of wise men and divine mysteries ; 
 for, according to Horace^ ' 
 
 Nemo aded ferns esty ut non mitescere possity 
 Si modo culture patientem commodat aurem. 
 
 Or, 
 
 The breasts remaining wild we need not fear. 
 
 After good learning his admission there. 
 
 But waving JTorace ; our Saviour charges us “ To search the Scriptures which 
 some disciples, on a certain occasion, finding of too sharp and disagreeable a taste, 
 thought too hard, and not be understood ; but being prepared with this seed, they 
 will appear better to us than we at first expected ; dispelling the darkness of our 
 understanding, and purging it of all earthly humidities and evil thoughts, till with 
 HagaCy we in any distress discover the fountain of living water in the wilderness of 
 this life, wherewith to refresh and strengthen our fainting souls : moreover, the mus- 
 tard-seed coming up green, and being with diflSculty to be rooted out after sowing, 
 implies the constant rise and propagation of divine truths : and those who have once 
 tried the agreeable taste of the plant, will never be drawn from using it: this sprig 
 
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202 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 having got root in the heart, will grow and produce seed which wild beasts cannot 
 tread down, cold or heat wither, or persecutions extirpate. By the same seed is also 
 signified, a bright and vigilant soul, and a high understanding; for they who are 
 seized with the lethargy, have, their heads, after shaving, rubbed with it for their re- 
 covery : and thus our circumcised hearts are likewise with the mustard-seed cleansed 
 from the lethargy of sin, for conversion. Pythagoras once tasting a leaf of this 
 plant, afterwards much admired it, and found that its spirits dew upwards, as if as- 
 cending to heaven ; for the virtue going up the nose to the brain, purges it, and clears 
 the understanding. Democritus said, that a few grains of it boiled with other greens, 
 made them soft and tender : let us, in like manner, so mix the emblematic mustard- 
 seed with our divine thoughts, that when become tender, they may send a steam and 
 sweet savour up to heaven, where our souls, united with God, can no more be affect- 
 ed with hunger, thirst, or drowsiness, but continually employed in praising the Al- 
 mighty. 
 
 In this last composition relating to a divine, we have crowded together a great va- 
 riety of objects, only to shew how fruitful this subject is in materials: for divinity, 
 comprising philosophy, physics, dialectical rhetoric, logic, &c. and each of these 
 affording plentiful matter, the ingenious artist may, by consulting good authors, gain 
 an inexhaustible treasure of things ; and then, as he thinks proper, more easily 
 leave out some, than having too few, represent them lame and defective to the know- 
 ing. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 OF THE ORIGIN, NATURE, AND QUALITY OF THE ROMAN TRIUMPHAL 
 CROWNS, AND OTHER REWARDS OF HONOUR. 
 
 W E learn from history, how noble the ancient Romans vrere ki gratifying the virtue, 
 valour, and conduct of their citizens, soldiers, and commanders, besides their ordinary 
 pay, with triumphal crowns, jewels, and other presents, as an example to others to 
 tread in the same steps, for the good of their country: and we judge this point very 
 proper to be handled next to still life, as it will conduce to make the emblematic 
 sense of a good piece more perfect. 
 
 After a commander had gained either a great advantage or victory over the ^emy 
 jn a siege, battle, or sea-4ght, he, according to custom, made an exact knjuiry what 
 persons had behaved with the greatest valour and resolution : and then ptadnghhn- 
 
 4 
 
m 
 
 Of Still Life* 203 
 
 self on a stage, raised for that purpose, and returning thanks to the gods for the vic- 
 tory obtained, he commended the army in general for their steady adherence, and 
 each company in particular which had shewed the greatest courage : then naming 
 them one after another, he extolled their valour, styling them friends and lovers of 
 their country, and telling them how highly they obliged the commonwealth by their 
 loyalty and brave behaviour : and thereupon, in the name of the senate, he distri- 
 buted amongthemmany rich presents, consisting of crowns of gold and silver, gir- 
 dles, gold chains, bracelets, rings for ears and fingers, armour, shields, pikes, swords, 
 javelins, standards, fine horse furniture, and other elegantly wrought warlike instru- 
 ments; which none durst use or wear, but those who had purchased them in the 
 manner aforesaid. The story abounds with such occurrences, but especially 
 
 Titus LiviuSy who relates, that the consul Papirius Cursor bestowed gold bracelets 
 among four hundred men, and afterwards magnificently rewarded a whole legion. 
 He tells us the same things of Scipio when he waged war with Spain and other coun- 
 tries : and we read, Lucius Antoniusy son of Lucius Fahius Quadratusy was twice 
 dignified by the emperor of Tiberiusy with gold ornaments for the neck and arms. 
 
 But besides the native valour and military discipline for which the ancient Romans 
 were particularly famous, we learn from Pliny and SalinuSy that oftentimes a single 
 person by his virtue and valour obtained all the aforesaid ornaments : as we see in 
 "M-arcus SergiuSy who received almost all those tokens of honour, and even in the 
 battles of Thrasimenus and Trebiry and the bloody one at CanncCy (in all which tho 
 Romans were defeated by Hannibal) he obtained a civic crown. It is related of this 
 SergiuSy that having in battle lost his right hand, and fixed an iron one in its place, 
 he so managed with his left, as one day to slay four armed men one after another ; 
 and that in fights and skirmishes he had received t^venty-three wounds in the fore- 
 parts of his body : and yet this man is inferior to Lucius Sicinnius HentatuSy over- 
 seer of the city of Rome ; of whom Pliny , SolinuSy Valerius ^aximuSy and Avhis 
 Oillius unanimously report, that his great merit had gained him from the senate 
 above three hundred and twenty honorary presents of all sorts, and that he nii^ 
 times made his entrance in triumph with the generals, wdiom by his valour and conduct 
 he had assisted in their conquests ; and that he could shew a great number of lances 
 and pikes unironed, which as so many tokens of honour fell to his share ; as i|lso 
 eighteen gold and eighty-three silver neck-ornaments, tw enty-five costly horse-fur- 
 nitures, a hundred and forty bracelets, fourteen civic crowns, eight castrenses, three 
 murals, one obsidional, and I know' not how many naval or rostral crowns : he had 
 received forty-five wounds, and those in his fore-parts only ; disarmed the enemy 
 thirty-four timei, and fought one hundred and twenty battles : in a word, he was 
 styled the Remm Achilles. 
 
 2 D 2 
 
204 
 
 Of mi Life. 
 
 The crowns bestowed on raen of particular merit had degrees of dignity, and par- 
 ticular names suiting the nature of the victories ; as, corana ohsidionalis, cixica, tri- 
 mnphalis, ovalis, muralis, navalis, and castrensis. 
 
 The corona ohsidionalis, or obsidional crown, was the most excellent of all ; for 
 when a Roman town or camp, besieged and reduced to extremity, was relieved by a 
 Roman captain, the commonwealth rewarded the action in the most noble manner, 
 viz. this crown, though made of grass, was accounted of more worth than if of 
 gold and enriched with precious stones; the grass was pulled up in the field of 
 battle, wherefore this crown is said to be sacred to Mars, which Boccatius seems 
 to affirm, possibly because the grass grows mostly in open places and fields of en- 
 campment. The great Quintus Fahius was, in reward of his merit, by the general 
 consent of the senate and Roman people, honoured with this crown, when in the 
 second Punic war he delivered the city from the approaching ruin and extremity 
 wffiich Hannibal had brought it to. jdEmilius Scipio had the same gift in Africa, for 
 rescuing the consul Manlius and his forces out of the power of the enemy. Calpur- 
 nius obtained the same honour in Sicily ; as did also the incomparable Lucius Sicin- 
 nius JDentatus. 
 
 The corona civica, or civic crown, was given to him who had preserved a Roman 
 citizen from imminent danger, or released from captivity ; this crown was made of 
 oak sprigs and leaves with the fruit hanging at it, and by the general’s order, who 
 gave it to the person set at liberty, put on the deliverer’s head : but though a person 
 had saved a king or other great ally of the Romans from falling into the enemy’s 
 hands, yet he got not this crown, which was only due to him who had freed a Ro- 
 man citizen from death or slavery. Pliny says, this crown was also presented to him 
 who slew the first of the enemy besieging a Roman town. It was next in dignity to 
 the corona ohsidionalis, and worn on several occasions, especially on the great festi- 
 vals and solemnities ; and in the plays, and other public sports, those who were 
 honoured with it sat next to the senate, and at their entrance were received by 
 them with all the marks of respect. These persons, with their fathers and grand- 
 fathers, were entirely exempted from all charges and taxes, as having begot sons so 
 beneficial to the commonwealth ; they were also at liberty to accept or refuse public 
 offices. Several Romans obtained this honour, especially the aforesaid valiant Lu- 
 cius Sicinnius Hentatus, yvho fourieen times gloried in it; as Capitolmus did six. 
 The brave Marcus Sergius likewise received it from the senate, and, in a word, all 
 those who in an extraordinary manner had benefitted the city or country. The 
 famous Cicero was so crowned by a particular decree of the senate, for having hap- 
 pily delivered the city from the imminent danger of the Catiline conspiracy. These 
 crowns, though seemingly simple, as being made of grass and sprigs of trees, were 
 
205 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 yet of greater account than those of gold and jewels : they were of oak, because the 
 acorn was the most'ancient food, and because that tree was sacred to Jupiter, the 
 tutelar god. The victors in the Capitoliiie games, instituted by Domitian, as also 
 stage-players, musicians, and poets, were likewise crowned with oak-leaves. 
 
 The corona triumphalis, or triumphal crown, was given to the general, who, hav- 
 ing overthrown the enemy in a pitched battle, had thereby either saved a Roman 
 ally, or annexed some dominion to the commonwealth ; wherefore he was also in- 
 troduced into the city in triumph riding in a gilt chariot drawn by four, or, according 
 to some, six white horses : this crown was made of laurel, sacred to Apollo for its 
 greenness and red berries, and signified that the victory is attended with much 
 trouble, danger, and bloodshed. Sextus relates, that the soldiers used to follow the 
 chariot of the conqueror, also crowned with laurel, to purify them on entering the 
 city from the blood of the slain. By the suffrage of the senate, the victors in the 
 wrestling games were honoured with the same crown ; and it w as anciently given to 
 men eminent for heroic poetry and eloquence : wherefore Hesiod says, “ The muses 
 had crowned him with a sceptre and crown of laurel.” The Roman priests and 
 soothsayers likewise crowned themselves with laurel : even those w^ho follow^ed the 
 army wore a sprig of it on their helmet, instead of a feather, because the tree was 
 accounted and called by them a foretelling one. 
 
 The corona ovalis, (given to a general or other prime person, who had beat the 
 enemy with little resistance, or having undertook the war without the express com- 
 mand of the senate, had gained some considerable fortress, town, or place) was made 
 of myrtle-leaves, a tree sacred to Venus. This crown denoted that the war was car- 
 ried on without great bloodshed; and therefore public rejoicings were made for it, 
 but without much triumph. When a victory was gained over slaves^ or pirates 
 and robbers, the victors had the same sort of crow ns, because such enemies w'ere 
 judged unworthy of feeling the Roman valour. The principal generals who ob- 
 tained this, and the triumphal crowns aforesaid, I shall mention among the 
 triumphs. 
 
 The corona murcdis, or mural crown, was the reward of a soldier or officer, who 
 in assaulting a town of the enemy first advanced a ladder, and valiantly mounted 
 the walls, and made way for conquest. This crowm was of gold, representing the 
 battlements of the town-wall they had conquered ; or else being like that which the 
 poets ascribe to Cybele, the mother of the gods, or Mother Earth ; round it were en- 
 graven lions, the emblems of valour and generosity. Suetonius relates, that com- 
 mon soldiers received it as well as captains and generals, on a public testimony 
 from others, that they first gained the top of the enemy’s w'alls. ^amlius Capitolinm 
 
206 ‘ 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 was, aceording to Pliny, first honoured with this crown : and Scipio gave it to 
 Q. Trebellius and Sextus Digitus, on their jointly first mounting the enemies walls. 
 
 The corona navalis, or naval crown, was given to him who in a sea-engagement 
 first entered into an enemy’s ship, and made himself master of it. This crown 
 was also of gold, and its circle set round with ships prows ; Marcus Varro disdain- 
 ed not to receive it at the hands of Pompey the Great, for subduing the sea- 
 rovers. Augustus presented it to Marcus Agrippa, on his gaining the upper hand 
 in the sea-fight off Sicily, as he also did to Sylla, and several others. The senate 
 gave it, together with a gold shield and other honourable gifts, to the emperor Clau- 
 dius, for having, soon after he obtained the imperial dignity, vanquished three hun- 
 dred thousand barbarians, in rebellion against the empire, and sunk two thousand 
 of the enemies ships. 
 
 The same crown was the present of the ancient Athenians to those who fitted out 
 ships of war for the public service, or first landed and intrenched on the enemies 
 ground. 
 
 The Romans, in process of time, placed a hedge-hog on the circle of this crown, 
 because that creature’s defence lying in his skin wherein he rolls himself up, he was 
 esteemed the emblem of a sea-fight. -This crown is ascribed to Diarm, or the moon, 
 as she influences the sea and its floods. 
 
 The corona castrensis, was given by the chief commander, to him who in battle 
 first entered the enemy’s camp. This crowm was a gold circle, to which were affixed 
 palisades of the same metal. They also had it who first destroyed the palisades of 
 the enemy, and thereby opened a door for victory. This crown was the reward of 
 a great number of Romans in those times of valour. 
 
 Besides these degrees of honour, the Romans bestowed several privileges on those 
 who excelled in warlike achievements, causing them, in the public pleadings, to sit 
 in the sella curulis, or the pretor’s ivory chair, as we read of the great Scipio; and 
 it often happened, since all things centred in the voice and consent of the people, 
 that some of the soldiery were invested with greater power and privileges. All 
 generals, who by conquest had enlarged the empire, were allowed to set up their 
 statues in the consular dress. Augustus, to eternize the memories of all such gene- 
 rals as had augmented the state, ordained, that next to the gods the first veneration 
 should be paid to them ; and for that purpose built a gallery in his palace, wherein 
 -to set their statues with all their honorary titles, notifying by proclamation, that he 
 did this for himself and successors, as an example to posterity to imitate the vir- 
 tues and valour of such illustrious personages. Moreover it was a laudable and 
 constant custom of the senate, to assign the children of such as fell in battle, the 
 liberal enjoyment of the pay of their deceased parents ; and to the old and maimed 
 
207 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 soldiers, as many lands in the provinces they conquered, as would comfortably sup- 
 port them and their families for the remainder of their lives. On this footing, the 
 city of Seville in Spain, and the fruitful country round it, were made a Roman colony 
 by Julius Caesar, and Corduha and several other places in divers parts of the world 
 were applied to the same purpose. In a word, Roman services never missed a re- 
 ward ; and for this reason the commonwealth produced more brave men than any 
 other nation whatsoever; every one exerting himself to attain all the degrees of 
 honour by the strictest virtue. But, on the other hand, the vicious and cowardly 
 were in proportion to their offences as severely punished, either by deprivation of 
 their honourable offices and future hopes, or else by being whipped with rods till 
 the blood came, or loaded with irons and made slaves. Titus Livius relates, that a 
 troop of Appius Claudius, cowardly deserting a certain post which they were set to 
 guard, was rigorously punished, by every tenth man’s being put to death according 
 to lot, without respect of persons. Julius Frontinus writes, that Marcus Antonius 
 caused a certain troop, who had not duly defended a town-wall and fortification, to 
 undergo the same fate. There were many other methods for punishing the disobe- 
 dience of the Roman soldiery, which I shall pass by, and conclude with Horace. 
 
 adsit 
 
 Regula peccatis qua pcetms eroget aquas. 
 
 That is. 
 
 Crimes do require the penalties of the laws. 
 
 And strictest justice greatest reverence draws. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 ^ Oi* THE SOLEMNITIES OF THE ROMAN TRIUMPHS. 
 
 Two motives generally incite a man to do great things, either in times of peace or 
 war; to wit, honour and immortal fame, or riches and profit. Generous souls 
 always aspire at the former, and reject the latter as below them. The Roman go- 
 vernment knew perfectly well how to make its advantage of these inducements, in 
 the encouragements given to its subjects ; and we shall begin with the triumphs, by 
 which they honoured and roused the valour of their heroes. 
 
 The triumph was an entrance and welcome of a genera], by decree of the senate. 
 
208 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 after a happy expedition and the conclusion of a war, whereby, in the most solemn 
 and pompous manner they shewed him their great esteem. On the day of entry, 
 the inhabitants of all the towns flocked to Rome, and the whole city, temples, 
 streets, gates, houses, and windows were hung with all sorts of costly stuffs, in 
 _ gold, silver, and silk, and beautifully decked with great variety of green branches 
 and flowers. In a word, nothing was wanting to shew either the power, magnifi- 
 cence, or joy of the Romans on this occasion. The senate, clergy, nobility, and 
 most eminent citizens (and therefore the greatest part of Rome) richly dressed, 
 met the conqueror without -the town gates. He sat in an ivory chair, called 
 curulis, in a gold chariot sparkling with precious stones, and drawn either by four 
 or ^ix white horses magnificiently equipped, and was dressed in a garment of pur_ 
 pie and gold, called toga palmata, crowned with laurel and the staff of command in 
 his hand, or else a winged image of Victory holding a crown of laurel or a palm 
 branch. Sometimes this figure was placed behind him, holding in its right hand a 
 crown of laurel over his head, as we see it both ways in the ancient bass reliefs and 
 medals. The prisoners of war dressed like slaves, and with shorn heads, and the 
 king or general, with the most eminent of the vanquished were led in fettered 
 couples before the chariot, which the Roman legions followed in troops or compa- 
 nies, on foot and horseback in their order, richly armed, and with their pikes and 
 lances twined with laurel, as a token of general joy; but they who had most signal- 
 ized themselves in valour, marched on each side of the chariot with crowns of laurel 
 on their heads, and palm branches in their hands. Before the conqueror went like- 
 wise some carriages laden with the arms, banners, gold and silver vases, jewels, 
 gold and silver coin, taken as booty from the enemy, together with the gifts and pre- 
 sents he had received from the friends and allies of the Romans. Next came some 
 castles and towers of wood, elegantly carved, resembling the towns and fortresses 
 gained of the enemy. In their passage the army feigned some battles, in so lively a 
 manner, as thereby to affect the spectators with all sorts of passions, as sorrow, joy, 
 and fright. The variety of those sights was so great and excessive as to spin out the 
 cavalcade for three or four days ; and, being arrived at the capital, all the arms and 
 booty, called Manubiae, taken from the enemy, were hung up and deposited in the 
 temple Jupiter, as an eternal memorial of the virtue of. the conquerors. Here the 
 senate returned them thanks for the service done to their country, and commonly 
 chusing the victor as a coadjutor in the government, the joy concluded with a magni- 
 ficent entertainment. But for forming a better idea of these triumphs, and the order 
 therein observed, I shall, as far as my memory will permit, give some examples of 
 them out- of the Roman histories. 
 
Of Still Life. 20.9 
 
 Plutarch describes the triumph voted to Vaulus JEmilius, for his victory over the 
 great Verseus, king of Macedonia, in this manner : — 
 
 First, the people of Rome and the neighbouring towns magnificiently dressed, ap- 
 peared at the doors and windows in the balconies, garrets, and on tops of houses in 
 great multitudes, as spectators of the solemnity. All the temples iu Rome, richly 
 adorned, were set open. The houses and streets were wonderfully garnished with 
 all sorts of costly hangings, and filled with greens, flowers, choice perfumes, and a 
 thousand other fine and delightful things. And as the concourse of people was very 
 great, men with staves were appointed to make and preserve a lane or passage 
 through them, for the march of the triumphers. The first day was spent in the pro- 
 cession of the banners, standards, ensigns, statues, colosses, pictures, and figures — all 
 placed on carriages elegantly painted, and slowly driven. The second day Avas taken 
 up with the passage of the bright armour of the vanquished king and Macedonians, 
 placed on chariots, or neat carriages made for that purpose. To these succeeded three 
 thousand men, partly carrying the gold and silver coin in three hundred and fifty 
 large silver dishes and vases, each weighing three talents, and carried by four men. 
 The remainder of these men bore fountains and stately vases of silver, artfully 
 wrought. On the third day appeared the first company, preceded by a great num- 
 ber of pipers, drums, hautboys, and trumpets, making a Avarlike music, as if preparing 
 for an onset. T.hese were followed by a hundred and twenty cows, decked Avith gilt 
 horns and sacred linen coverings, and all sorts of green garlands wreathed Avith 
 flowers, led for victims, by beautiful young men richly dressed, and succeeded by a 
 company of children, carrying gold and silver dishes for the use of the sacrifice. 
 After these came the bearers of the gold vases with gold coin, iu number seventy- 
 tAvo, folloAved by several great officers of the retinue of Antigonus, and Seleucus, late 
 kings of Macedonia, and even of Yerseus himself, carrying the excessive large gold 
 A'essel, weighing ten talents, and enriched with all sorts of precious stones and dia- 
 monds, Avhich was made by JEmilius's express order. Next to these appeared the 
 body-chariot of the conquered king, and therein his coat of arms, diadem, or royal 
 head-band, croAvn, and sceptre. Then followed the children of the unhappy prince, 
 attended by a great number of his courtiers, as steAvards, secretaries, and other such 
 domestics, weeping and lamenting their slavery in such a manner, as, considering 
 the vicissitude of human affairs, to raise compassion in the spectators ; especially the 
 sight of the three innocent children, two sons and a daughter, Avho, by reason of their 
 tender age, Avere insensible of their unhappy condition. After these appeared the 
 father dressed in black, according to the custom of his country, and Avalking full of 
 terror and concern, on this occasion. Next to him came his friends, favourites, and 
 confidents, Avho fixing their eyes on him, and bitterly Aveeping, moved many of the 
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 Of Still Life. 
 
 Romans themselves with tears in their eyes to pity both their and the king’s sorrow- 
 ful condition. To these succeeded the gold crowns which the ancient free cities had 
 presented to the conqueror, as a gratulation for his victory : and then came Mmilius 
 himself, sitting on a gold triumphal chariot, dressed in a purple garment richly 
 wroughtwith gold, with alaurel branch in his hand, and a crown of the same on his 
 head. He was followed by the army, horse and foot, orderly marshalled under their 
 proper ensigns, having garlands of laui'el and palm branches in their hands, and 
 singing hymns in praise of the victor and victory. Thus Vaultis JEmiHus made his 
 triumphal entrance into the famous city of Rome, where he offered the booty in 
 the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and returned the god thanks for his victory and 
 triumph. ^ 
 
 All other triumphs were managed much in the same manner, with abatement of 
 some circumstances, according to the pleasure of the general who was honoured 
 with them. 
 
 And, though we find the solemnities regulated by laws, precisely directing in what 
 manner, at what time, and through what gates and streets the cavalcade was to pass ; 
 yet, as for the plays, shows, and other less appurtenances, they were lessened or aug- 
 mented at the will of the victor, with a liberty to chuse the chariot. History tells 
 us, that the chariot was commonly drawn by four white horses ; but we also find 
 bulls used for the same purpose, ^ompey the Great, having subdued Africa, made 
 his entry on a chariot drawn by elephants. Suetonius relates, that Julius Caesar 
 triumphed in one with forty elephants. The emperor, Gordianus, triumphed in the 
 same manner. Caius Darius having subjected Africa and extended the ju- 
 
 risdiction into Egypt, was drawn by the same kind of beasts. Scipio Agricanus 
 triumphed with elephants for the same reason. The emperor Augustus on his vic- 
 torious return from the east, and ending the war with Anthony, was, by the consent 
 of the senate and people oi Rome drawn by four elephants. The emperor Vespasian 
 had the same honour on finishing several great wars in the east: the elephants de- 
 noting the conquest of countries, where those creatures breed. Llavius, in his his- 
 tories, tells us, that the emperor Aurelian, who was king of the Goths, made his en- 
 trance on a chariot drawn by stags. But Antonius made use of tame lions, 
 
 intimating, that in the civil wars he would make the most valiant submit to his com- 
 mands: which Cicero, in his Orations, called Philippicce, objects him, saying, That 
 his triumphal chariot with lions implied an arbitrary man aiming at monarchy. 
 
 The Roman generals when they triumphed, had also a custom of carrying one or 
 more young children in their chariots 5 as we gather from Ciceros speech before 
 Murena. Some used to be attended with a great number of strange wild beasts, as 
 lions, bears, tigers, rhinoceroses, panthers, dromedaries, and such like 5 as Josephus, 
 
211 
 
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 in his histories of the Vespasians, mentions. Others had vocal and instrumental 
 music and other diversions. Among these triumphs, those of Vompeij the Great, 
 Caesar, the two Scipws brothers, and several emperors, had something singular, as 
 Blondus in his Treatise, intitled Rome Triumphant, largely discourses. The tri- 
 umphing conquerors were likewise allowed to set up their statues in temples and 
 public places, and to erect columns and costly structures of marble, called Arcus 
 Triumphales, whereon were carved in bass relief their battles and victories for eternal 
 monuments to posterity; remains whereof we see to this day at jRoiweand elsewhere. 
 Herein the Romans imitated the ancient Greeks, who, for a memorial of great actions 
 set up trophies, made in the following manner : 
 
 In the place of victory they fixed the highest tree to be found in the neighbour- 
 hood, and then chopping off the branches, they, in honour to the victor, hung on the 
 remaining limbs the arms of the vanquished, calling the tree Trophaeum, from the 
 Greek wmrd Tropi, which signifies overthrow, flight, and giving way, because the ene- 
 mies were in that place put to flight. The Romans afterwards made use of them for 
 the same purpose; for Sallustius in his Memoirs relates that Vompey having conquer- 
 ed the Spaniards planted his trophies on the tops of the highest Vyrenees: and this 
 custom afterwards grew into such esteem, that they were made of stone. But, ac- 
 cording to scripture, the usage was very ancient among other nations ; for it appears 
 in chap. 15. of 1 Sam. that Saul having vanquished Agag, king of the Amalekites 
 and being come to Mount Carmel, set up an Arcus Triumphalis, or Place. In a 
 word, the honour of triumphing was accounted by the Romans as a token of the 
 highest esteem ; and therefore, to obtain it, their generals spared for no toils or dan- 
 gers in warlike achievements. Add to this, the riches commonly arising from such 
 glory, by the presents made them by the allies and the booty of the enemy. 
 
 In my opinion, historians have described the matter so circumstantially, on pur- 
 pose to put princes and governors in mind of rewarding the deserts of their generals, 
 soldiers, and men of merit, and that the unskilful, cowardly, and unfit for command 
 might not be ranged with those who willingly sacrificed their fortunes, capacities, and 
 bodily labours to the benefit of their country. Accordingly to l^aulus Orosiris three 
 hundred and twenty persons have been honoured with the Roman triumph, of \vhom 
 the emperor ^robus, in whose reign the fabric of the Roman monarchy began to de- 
 cay, was the last. 
 
 Let us here subjoin a Grecian triumph. Antiochus, surnamed Epiphanies, or the 
 illustrious king of Syria, having heard of the aforesaid glorious triumph of ^aulus 
 JLmilius, was so pufled up wdth ambition, that he resolved to make a sort of one 
 surpassing it in magnificence. To which end be caused proclamations to be made 
 throughout his kingdom, that, at a certain time, he w'oiild at Daphnes hold a grand 
 
 2 E 2 
 
212 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 and uncommon tournament : ^vllicll curiosity drew out of 6^/wcc and tlie neiglibour- 
 ing countries a great concourse of people; and the cavalcade was in the following 
 manner : 
 
 First, marched five thousand Grecian young men armed Roman like, followed by 
 as many Mysians, finely habited after their fashion. Next appeared three thousand 
 Thracians and five thousand Galatians^ followed by a vast number of other nations 
 called, for their silver shield, Argyraspides. After these came two hundred and 
 fifty ranks of sword-players, called by the Romans, gladiators ; and then a thousand 
 knights, with chaplets of gold about their heads, and their horses costly equipped 
 with gold embroidered housings, and gold and silver bridles. These were followed 
 by a thousand other knights, called companions, associated with some of the king’s 
 friends and confidents. Then appeared a thousand noblemen on foot, and after them 
 a thousand other knights, called the king’s troops. Next came one thousand five 
 hundred knights in gold armour, over which they had coats of armour richly em- 
 broidered with gold and silver, and artfully adorned with all sorts of animals. To 
 these succeeded a hundred chariots, each drawn by six horses, followed by forty 
 others, each with four. After these appeared a chariot with elephants, follow^ed 
 by thirty-six of the same kind of creatures, and those by eight hundred boys, 
 having garlands and crowns ornamented with gold in their hands. Next came a 
 thousand fat oxen with eight hundred Indian elephants teeth. After these were 
 carried an infinite number of idols and figures of deceased persons who had been 
 famous for arts and sciences, dressed in gold and silver stuffs adorned with precious 
 stones, with their names, dignities, and actions written on the pedestals. Then came 
 slaves bearing idols, representing night and morning, mfd-day and evening, and an 
 infinite number of gold and silver vessels of great value. Next appeared six hun- 
 dred of the king’s pages dressed in gold stuffs, followed by two hundred ladies car- 
 rying gold boxes, filled with all manner of rich perfumes and odoriferous balm, and 
 these by forty sedans of massy silver, carrying as many ladies, and those by eighty 
 gold sedans with ladies dressed in gold, silver, and jewels. The streets abounded 
 with all sorts of rich oils, balms, and perfumes. This cavalcade lasted thirty days 
 successively, attended with plays, tournaments, and shows ; during which time, every 
 person, after perfuming himself, was allowed to sit at the royal tables, one thousand 
 five hundred in number, and to feast at the king’s expense. To proceed to the 
 Romans. 
 
 Another solemnity obtained among them, called Ovatio ; which was inferior to the 
 triumph in some of its requisites : for instance, if the victor was not of consular or 
 proconsular dignity, or had met with little resistance from the enemy, or gained the 
 victory without great hlood shed, or had overcome people of small worth, or, as we 
 said, speaking of the eorona ovalis, when the war was undertaken without the ex- 
 
213 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 press command of the senate, &c. In such cases, the vectors were solemnly wel- 
 comed with the ovatio, in the following manner : 
 
 Thegeneral entered the city on horseback, or, as anciently, on foot, crowned with 
 myrtle, (a tree sacred \oVe7ius, because the victory was gained not in a martial man- 
 ner, but in a manner becoming that goddess and women, as Anlus Gellius says ; and 
 the troops in their procession appeared not in arms ; and instead of drums, trumpets, 
 and other warlike instruments, their music was flutes and other soft sounds. The 
 general entered with the booty in an orderly manner, followed by his army, and the 
 senate solemnly received him without the city-gates highly commending his actions. 
 Histories tell us, that several great generals sued for and accepted this honour. The 
 first was Posthumius Libertus, on his having subdued the Sabines, and next Marcus 
 Marcellas after the conquest of Syracuse. Suetonius relates, that Au§;ustus, after the 
 battle of Philijypi, and on finishing the war in Sicily, obtained that honour. And 
 Pliny says, that several generals denied by the senate the honourof the great triumph, 
 were decreed the ovatio; which was so called, from the general’s offering a sheep, in 
 Latin ovis, when he came to the capi al, instead of a bull, sacrificed in the great 
 triumph. Others think the word is derived from the shouts of the people, who used 
 to cry, Oe ! or else Ove! Whatever the truth is, this solemn entrance was always 
 called by the Romans, Ovatio. 
 
 Other triumphs of these people 1 shall for brevity omit speaking of. He who 
 wants further information may \'e2L& Apjnanus AlexanurinusdiXidiAmmiannus ^arcelli- 
 nus; the former describing the triumph of Scipio Africanus, and the latter that of the 
 emperor Constantins, 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 OF THE MANNER OF THE FOUR PRINCIPAL AND PUBLIC GRECIAN 
 GAMES, AND TO WHOSE HONOUR INSTITUTED. 
 
 The antiquity and manners of the Grecian games being somewhat unknown to 
 many curious artists, I think it will be acceptable to give a short description, as well 
 as I can, of the four principal games so highly and so often extolled by the Greek 
 and Roman writers. 
 
 The firstand principal were called the Olympic % 2 xe\!e% held near the city of Olym- 
 pia, in the province of Elis, and instituted in honour of Jupiter Olympius by the 
 Idcen Hercules and his four brothers, Pceoneus, Idas, Jasius, and Epimedes, meeting 
 together from Mount Ida in Candia ; and, being five brethren, they were styled the 
 Idcean dactyls. These games being celebrated every five years with great solemnity, 
 
214 
 
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 the ancients therefore reckoned their time by Olympiads, thereby understanding- a 
 period of five years. They consisted of five sorts of exercises, viz. running, wrest- 
 ling, boxing, throwing the coit, and leaping. The place of exercise was fenced in 
 with pales, and no spectator was suffered to come within it. 
 
 Some pretend these games were instituted by Jupiter, after he had destroyed the 
 giants who attempted to storm heaven ; and that Apollo had got the preference in out- 
 running Mercury; that Mars bore away the prize in wrestling, boxing, &c. Others 
 prove, that each of the aforesaid brethren invented his game and exercise, and that 
 being five in number, they were from the five fingers named dactyls, Daclylos in 
 Greek, signifying a finger. 
 
 The Greeks called these five exercises Pentathlon, and the Latins Quinquertium. 
 Two of them had a dependence on the legs, viz. running and leaping; two on the 
 arms, as coits and boxing, and the wrestling respected both arms and legs. The 
 victor in all the five exercises was by the Greeks called Pancratiastes ; a word com- 
 pounded of Pan and Krdtos, signifying a bestowing a whole force of the body. 
 In boxing all advantages might be taken for overcoming the antagonist, and the 
 prize was adjudged to him who gained his point most dexterously. Accordingly, 
 they struck with fists and elbows, kicked, bit, scratched, and sprained the fingers, 
 hands, and other parts of the body. They even endeavoured to thrust out each 
 others eyes with their thumbs. In short no artifice was omitted for gaining the 
 victory. 
 
 We shall briefly relate in what manner the aforesaid five exercises were performed. 
 
 The circus, wherein they run on foot, was originally a stadium, or six hundred geo- 
 metrical feet in length : but in the fourth Olympiad they doubled it. This race 
 was at first on foot, and in a light dress : but afterwards on horse back and in armour. 
 Men called runners on foot, were also admitted armed from top to toe ; this exercise 
 being judged very proper for the bodies of warriors. The first victor herein was 
 Demaratus of Herea: and the hymns sung in their honour sufficiently testify their 
 running in armour. But the first who got the prize in running without armour, was 
 Chorcsbus of Flis, after a long contest with him about it. Arrachion of Phigalia 
 obtained the prize in the second and third exercises ; and Polycrates of Mes.sene, a 
 man of noble extraction, got much honour and glory in the fourth, wherein he was 
 victor. 
 
 The wrestling was undertaken after the body had been thoroughly anointed in 
 order to prevent a gripe, and then daubed with fine dust to dry the sweat. Thus 
 prepared, the wrestlers entered the lists, and began with seizing the hands, then 
 the arms and body under the short ribs, &c. Thus endeavouring by various 
 methods of strength and dexterity in kicking, pushing, and other tricks, to fling 
 
^15 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 one another on their backs; for a fall on the belly went for nothing. Before they 
 entered the ring they caused their parts to be soundly rubbed, to make them more 
 supple and agile. 
 
 Boxing and fighting with slings were the most dangerous exercises. The former 
 was anciently performed with ox-leather thongs tied about the hands, by which with 
 wonderful activity they dealt each other with very hard blows. But the slings con- 
 sisted of small leather straps, armed at the ends with little leaden balls, the blow 
 whereof, when it happened on the head, laid the adversary dead. 
 
 The coit was a flat, round, heavy piece of stone or lead, to try the force of 
 arms and hands, and to see who could fling highest and furthest : an exercise stil 
 in use in many places to this day ; but with this difterence, that the ancients, with 
 a leg lifted up, threw the coit at a mark set upon a small pyramid, and resembling 
 a pine-apple. 
 
 The fifth exercise was less perilous, as consisting only of divers manners of 
 leaping. 
 
 The ancient garlands or crowns given as a prize to the victor on these occasions 
 were made of olive leaves, but they varied according to the times , for they were 
 afterwards composed of couch grass, willow, laurel, myrtle, oak, palm, and wild 
 parsley leaves ; as Plularch in the life of Cato Uticensis relates. But when made of 
 olive leaves, they chose a select kind, called Ccilistcphctnos, i. e. beautiful crown, hav- 
 ing hanging branches like the myrtle, very proper for twisting garlands. The leaves 
 of such garland dffV red much from others, in that being white without, the green 
 when twisted was inward ; whereas the others were white within, and appeared 
 green without. Hercules and his brethren first brought this plant into Greece from 
 the northern countries, as Fausanias in his Olympus tells us. 
 
 The Phythian games were instituted long before xhe Isthmian, yet after the Olympic, 
 and celebrated in honour of Apollo for his victory over the frightful serpent Python. 
 Some think they were so called from Pythos, the place of celebration, oi else from 
 the Greek, word Pythestai, to consult; because they there consulted the oracle, in 
 order to know the events of things to come. The exercises in these games only 
 differed in the Olympic in this, that the Phythian were performed under the sound of 
 all sorts of vocal and instrumental music. These games, from time to time, had se- 
 veral alterations in form and solemnity, after the institution of the Pancratium or 
 Quinquertiam i and it is related, that in the first* Pythiades, wherein the most illus- 
 trious heroes and gods of the ancients entered the lists for the sake of the prize ; 
 
 * Pythiades signifies a certam number of years in the Vythian games. 
 
216 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 Castor prevailed in the horse-race, Pollux in boxing, Callais in running on foot 
 Zethees in running in complete armour, Peleus in throwing the coit, Telamon in 
 wrestling, and Hercules in the Pancratium, or all the games. 
 
 In each of these games and exercises the victors were crowned with laurel, which 
 in particular was consentrated to them; because the ancients believed, by what they 
 have feigned of Peneaus’s daughter, with wdiom Apollo was so much enamoured, and 
 who was metamorphosed into that tree, that the god took a singular delight hi it. 
 But, others will have the institution of the Phythian games to be long before Apollo's 
 amour with the beautiful Daphne: and before the laurel bore that distinction, both 
 the triumphal and victors crowns and garlands were made of palm or oak-leaves • as 
 Ovid in his first book of Metamorphoses testifies. Plutarch and Pausanias relate 
 that Theseus on his return from Greta, adorned the victors in the games instituted in 
 honour of Apollo with garlands of palm, as tokens of praise and renown ; for the 
 laurel was not known till after the Phythian games were settled, and when know n it 
 gave rise to the aforesaid fable of Dapline; and both the tree and leaves being found 
 of so extraordinary a make and nature, illustrious victors and men of learning w ere 
 commonly crowned with it. Some again say, that Apollo affected the leaves and 
 blossoms of the apple-tree, before he chose the laurel, and therefore the victors in 
 running, wrestling, &c. ought to be crowned with that ; as the poet Archias in his 
 Mytholog. lib. 5. cap. 4. relates. But Lucianus asserts, that though in the Phythian 
 games, the garlands of laurel began to prevail, yet they were intermixed with fine yel- 
 low apples. Some writers even affirm, that the laurel of Delphos bore such large ber- 
 ries or fruit, as almost to gain the name of apples. But the true reason of this dif- 
 ference proceeded from several alterations made both in the prizes and times of hold- 
 ing those games ; for originally they were celebrated every ninth year (from the num- 
 ber of nymphs feigned by the ancients, to come from Mount Parnassus, to offer to 
 Apollo on his having overcome the Delphic monster Python) and afterwards every 
 fifth. 
 
 The Nenuean games were kept in a wood of that name, situate between Philiuns 
 and Cleone, two cities of Achia, in honour and memory of Archemorns, otherwise 
 called Opheltes son of Lycurgus, on account of his being killed by a serpent in this 
 wood. Which accident some relate thus : Oedepus having through mistake married 
 his own mother, the wddow of Laius, king of Thebes, begat on her two sons, Eteocles 
 and Polynice, to whom he resigned the royal dignity, on condition they governed 
 by turns : but Eteocles as the eldest, having obtained the first year’s administration, 
 refused to admit his brother as a partner to govern the second year ; who thereupon 
 in discontent, soliciting the aid of Adrastus, king of Argos, whose daughter, called 
 Argia, he married ; the king, in conjunction with his other son-in-law Tydeus, raised 
 
217 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 a great army, in order to wage w'ar with the Thebans and bring them to reason. The 
 issue of this war was the death of the two brothers in a duel ; and their bodies, ac- 
 cording to custom, being laid on a large pile of wood to be burnt, the flames hap- 
 pened to divide and separate, as if they bore witness of the immortal hatred of the 
 two brethren in their life-times, which ceased not with their deaths. Now in the 
 army which Adrastus sent to Polynices assistance were seven commanders, who 
 being arrived in the island pertaining to Thracia, and seized with an extreme 
 
 thirst, metHypsipyle, carrying in her arras the child Opheltcs, son ofLycurgus, (priest 
 of Jupiter) and Euridice, who being a native of that country, they intreated to 
 shew them where to get some water. Whereupon she in haste, yet fearful of laying 
 the child on the ground, as forbidden by the oracle, before he could walk, set him 
 naked on the grass by a bed of wild parsley near a fountain, where a serpent lying 
 perdue, suddenly wound itself about the child’s neck, and throttled him, while she 
 was gone to draw water. The commanders, being apprised of this accident, 
 killed the serpent; and, to solace the father, instituted in honour of his son so sud- 
 denly lost the aforesaid games, to be held every third year: wherefore originally 
 only soldiers and their descendants were admitted to them, though in process of 
 time they were free for every person. Theagnes, in his Memoirs of JEgina, book 4. 
 chap. 13, relates, that Hypsipyle fled from Lemnos to on account of a com- 
 
 bination among the women to kill the men, only out of jealousy, because by the in- 
 stigation of Venus, highly incensed against them, they had to do with other women. 
 Accordingly they all put their design in practice, except Hypsipyle^ who endeavour- 
 ed to save her fathers life by hiding him in a baker’s trough. (This happened soon 
 after the departure of the Argonauts, and their arrival in this island.) But being 
 discovered, they flung him with the trough into the sea, and condemned Hypsipyle to 
 die for not agreeing to their general resolution. She hearing this made her e scape; 
 but in her flight, was taken by pirates and sold for a slave to Lycurgus, whose wife 
 Euridice, desiring she might be put to death for the misfortune of lier child, she liid 
 herself in a remote and solitary place; where being discovered by the soothsayer 
 Amphiarus, to the two sons of Euridice, Thoas and Eunoenus, who made diligent 
 search after her, she was, through their intercession, and the commanders testimony 
 of lier innocence, pardoned and re-admitted into favour. Others will have it that 
 Hercules instituted these games, on having killed in the wood Nemaea, a terrible lion, 
 who devoured all before him, and laid the country waste. Some say they were set 
 up in honour and memory of Archemorus; but that Hercules, after having slain the 
 Nemaeanlion, wdth whose skin he covered his head and body, brought them under a 
 regulation, and dedicated them to Jupiter ; appointing their solemnization to be 
 every three years, on the I2^ih day of the, month, called by the Corinthians Paneiuos, 
 
 2 F 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
Sm Of Still Life. 
 
 %nd by tliG Atlt€7ii(X7is Socdroniios, tiRswcring’ to our month of August i {ind the rather^ 
 as Theseus had in that month happily vanquished the Amazons. But others are of 
 opinion that it was done in memory of Opheltes, who by his own death presaged the 
 fate of the Lacedemoiiians, at war with the Thebans. Yet some think that this 
 w as another Opheltes., son of Euphetas and Oreusa^ w'ho being laid on the ground 
 by his nurse, while she went to shew some commanders a fountain, was killed by a 
 serpent. 
 
 The Nemcean games were therefore instituted in memory and consolation of Lycur- 
 g'us,. Euridice,7xnd Opheltes, and the judges who determined the prizes were dressed 
 ill black and mourning garments. For Opheltes was afterwards called Archemorus, 
 because Amphiarus had at his birth presaged him an early and untimely death. 
 Archo signifying in Greek beginning, and Moro5 death ; as if they said, “ dying 
 after his birth in which sense speaks the poet, 
 
 “ Nascentes, morimur, Jinisque ab origine pendet 
 
 That is, “ We begin dying from our births, and our beginnings and ends have an 
 inseparable union.” 
 
 The exercises in these games w'ere the same as in others : but the victors were 
 crowned wdth green parsley, mostly used in funerals, to perpetuate the memory of 
 Archemorus. Whether the Greek Selinon, with us common parsley and the petroseli- 
 non, or stone parsley be the same, let the botanists determine. Originally the victors 
 were crowned with garlands of olives; but after the defeat of the Medes they began 
 to be presented with one of wild parsley, in memory of those who were slain in that 
 bloody battle: and, after this regulatiori, the said herb, instead of crowningthe head 
 on occasions of joyful meetings, served only in times of sorrow and mourning. For, 
 according to the Greek saying, this herb is very earthly, as spreading a long time 
 over the ground, and often bearing to be dug up in order to get a deeper root. The 
 seed of it also on sowing is longer than others in coming up ; wherefore it was ne- 
 cessary, that the mortal Greek Opheltes, afterwards (as we have said) called Arche- 
 morus, should be crowned with earthly honour. For of the four principal games 
 which we handle in this chapter, two, according to the poet Archias, are sacred to 
 mortals, and the others to deities : the mortals are Archemorus and Meliverta, who 
 is also called Palcemon; and the gods are Jupiter and Apollo. The wild parsley 
 is not without reason appropriated to these games ; because some think it sprung 
 from the blood of the child, killed by the serpent ; yet this contradicts those who 
 say, that Hypsipylc laid the child on this plant ; which therefore was already known 
 at that time. We shall now proceed to the Isthmian games. 
 
219 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 This solemnity was performed at night in the Isthmus of Corinth, parting Morea 
 from the continent of Greece ; and had rather the face of a sacrifice and its mysteries 
 than of a festival. It was instituted by Sisyphus, son of Molus, on his finding there on 
 the ground the dead body of his kinsman Melicerta. 
 
 Plutarch writes that Theseus, after having killed the bull of Minos, and performed 
 other great exploits, erected a pillar in the Isthmus of Peloponnesus, w here, in imita- 
 tion of Hercules, who consecrated the Olympic games to Jupiter, lie instituted tlie 
 Isthmian in honour of Neptune. 
 
 Yet according to Pausanias and others, these games were not set up for that rea- 
 son, but in remembrance of dead body found there unburied : touching 
 
 which there goes this story: Learchus and Melicerta were the sons of Athamas and 
 Ino. Athamas, made raging mad hyTisiphone at JunJs command, attempted to kill 
 his wife instead of a wild beast, tearing the young Learchus out of her arms, beat 
 out his brains against the stones. Ino affrighted hereat, either through sorrow, or the 
 influence of Tisiphone’s poisoned serpents, betook herself with the other child 3lcU- 
 certa to the mountains Gerajies, situated between Megara and Corinth. But she 
 finally also yielding to rage, cast herself with the child from the rock Moluris into 
 the sea; where she was metamorphosed into a sea nymph, and called Lencoiha, and 
 he into a sea god, under the name of Palcemon. The dead body of Melicerta being 
 afterwards brought on shore by a dolphin, Sisyphus, king of Corinth, who w^as his 
 uncle, commanded him to be buried in the Isthmus, and a circus to be there erected 
 for the celebration of the aforesaid games. 
 
 - But the poet Aachias says, that Inos flinging herself with Melicerta into the 
 sea, a dolphin landed their bodies on the Schamuntian shore, where Amphimachus 
 and Lonaemus took them up and brought them to Sisyphus, king of Corinth; and 
 then they were deified, she by the name of Leucothea, w hich in Greek signifies the 
 white goddess, and he by that of Palcemon. 
 
 Leucothea, called by the Latins Matuta, is day-break; and Valmnon, or Vortunus, 
 the vehemence of storms and billows ; for pallein, in Greek, signifies to toss, move, 
 and push violently against each other ; whence comes thename of Palcemon: he was 
 the son of 3Iatuta, or morning ; because the winds commonly begin to arise with 
 day-break. 
 
 Others tell us, that Melicerta' s dead body being cast on the shore of the Isthmus, 
 and lying unburied, it caused a great plague; and that, on consulting the oracle, 
 touching the cause of the infection, answer was made, that Melicerta ought to have 
 a magnificent funeral, and solemn races and games should be appointed to his ho- 
 nour and memory. Ahe Corinthians obeyed, and the body was accordingly taken 
 up by Amphimacus and Ponacifius, and in an honourable manner buried in the place 
 
320 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 aforesaid ; and the games and funeral rites being instituted, the plagtte ceased ; but 
 afterwards it broke out afresh on their omission of the solemnity ; wherefore, in 
 this their utmost distress, the people, re-consulting the oracle, were told they must 
 for ever celebrate the games they had begun in memory of 3Ieliperta, and distribute 
 the rewards to the victors. But Museus, describing these games, says, that the 
 custom was to perform, every five years, two sorts of games and races in the Isthnus; 
 one in honour of Neptune, near his temple ; and the other in memory of 31eliceria. 
 
 The prize in the Isthmian games was orginally a crown of parsley, elegantly 
 wreathed; but afterwards, a garland of pine-leaves, on account of their neighbour- 
 hood and agreement with the seas. Besides these crowns, the victors ^vere usually 
 presented on their return with a palm-branch, as Pausanias says. Moreover, the 
 conquerors at such times were so much honoured, as to be met by their fellow citi- 
 zens, and brought some miles upon their shoulders; they made not their entrance 
 through the common gates, like other people, but triumphantly over a stately 
 bridge or passage, made over the walls for that purpose, and their names were 
 cut on pillars setup in the public places of the town, to perpetuate their memories. 
 
 We shall, to conclude this chapter, subjoin a short description of some particular 
 garlands or crowns, sacred to the heathenish deities. 
 
 The Phoenicians, as Eusebius testifies, honoured and worshipped the herbs and 
 plants. The Greeks, in imitation of them, rendered almost the same duties, not only 
 to trees, but also to herbs and flowers : these maintained that the Charities, or 
 Three Graces, were the very crowners of Pandora. Pherecydes says, that Saturn 
 was crowned before any others : yet, according to Diodorus, Jupiter claims this ho- 
 nour for his conquest over the giants : but, not to pretermit the Egyptian monu- 
 ments, Isis first crowned herself with green sprigs and ears of corn ; of which, ac- 
 cording to the Egyptian writer, Leon, she was the inventor. 
 
 The oak and its fruit, as ApoUodorus writes, were sacred to the goddess Rhea, 
 otherwise called the earth, that mortals who proceed from it might wear the badges 
 of their universal mother : the same tree was also peculiar to Jupiter, the tutelar god. 
 
 The pine and its fruit were consecrated to the goddess Cyhele, whom the ancients 
 believed to be the mother of all things; because she, carefully containing the seed 
 originally given her, does by the warmth of the sun yearly bring forth new shoots. 
 The pine-apple in its shape also resembles a rising flame, and keeps its seed in small 
 and separate cells, which by the earth’s heat in time springs up and grows. We 
 likewise see a certain medal, with the head of Gyhele on one side, and a small gar- 
 land of pine-twigs on the other, and inscribed 2MYPNA1QN, i. e. those of Smyrna. 
 The Arcadians, believing Pan to be the god of the universe, dedicated the pine-apple 
 to him also. 
 
 Saturn, Jupiter, Apollo, and AElsmdapius, were crowned with laurel; Saturn as the 
 
221 
 
 Of StiU Life. 
 
 8:od of triumfibs; Jupiter, for bis victory over tbe giants; Apollo, for tbe love of 
 I)aphn€, metamorpbosed into that tree : tbougb before, tbe palm was sacred to him, 
 on bis killing tbe Delphic dragon : but ^sculapiiis wears it for no other reason, than 
 that it is useful for several remedies. 
 
 The ancient Romans, on their nonts caprothus, or festivals kept monthly, in ho- 
 nour of Juno, crowned that goddess with fig-leaves, as a memorial of the city of 
 Rome (reduced to the utmost extremity by the Gauls, who demanded of the senate 
 several noble virgins as hostages) regaining its freedom by the contrivance of the 
 virgin Philotis, who, shewing the Romans how to slide down from the walls, by the 
 branches of a fig-tree growing thereon, and sacred to Juno, gave them an opportu- 
 nity of falling on the enemy when drunk and asleep (which she had cunningly in- 
 ticed them to), and by a great slaughter, to obtain a complete victory over them. 
 The pomegranate was consecrated to Juno, by the people of MycencB. The white 
 lily is also sacred to her, and therefore called Flos Jmiouius, or, according to some, 
 flosregalis; not so much out of respect to the queen or goddess, but because that 
 
 flower almost surpasses all others in height. 
 
 Minerva, who is said to be a virgin, rightfully laid claim to the olive-tree, which 
 
 affects purity and chastity, as well as she. 
 
 I find no' trees particularly sacred to Mars; but it is notorious that the herb 
 
 commonly called dogs grass is appropiiated to him. 
 
 They who are conversant with poets, know that the myrtle tree signifies delight, 
 and a mind richly endowed. The ancients say that tree surpasses all others in 
 tender and beautiful leaves, and their continual greenness and smell, which recom- 
 mends it to Venus, the most beautiful, most tender, and most perfect of the god- 
 desses. In old times, men on festival days used to put into each others hands 
 branches of this tree as tokens of joy, and that they should join m chorus : and 
 Horace says that in Lent-time, when the earth, by her variety of flowers, seems to 
 rejoice, we ought to adorn our heads with wreaths of myrtle. The apple-tree sig- 
 nifying love, is also sacred to Venus; and the ears of corn to Ceres. 
 
 The ivy, dedicated to Bacchus, was in great esteem among the Egyptians for being 
 always green and not shedding its leaves till after harvest: they mostly used it in 
 garlands, and the kind-bearing blackberries was especially consecrated to Bacchus, 
 who by that people is called Osiris, and from whence this green also borrows its 
 name; for they call it i. e. the plant of Osiris: Dionysius, whmh is 
 
 also the name of Bacchus, having carried his victories into India, built there ISysa, 
 a large town, and planted it round with ivy to perpetuate his memory : this plant 
 is sacred to Bacchus, either because he as well as Phoebus is ahvays represented 
 youthful ; or, that the tongue and spirits of father Liber are tied up, as the ivy 
 
22,2 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 ratclies hold of any tiling that it comes at: for though Horace says, ‘'that the 
 drunkard is in his cups free from all care, even the greatest poverty,” yet it is as 
 true, that the liquor captivates the senses, taking away all power of judging. The 
 same plant is likewise an emblem of age, not only for its growing mostly near old 
 trees, buildings, and ruins, but also as wine which is old and worked off is highly 
 esteemed : wherefore Pindarus, as well as Horace, mostly extols it. The vine 
 was also sacred to Bacchus ; accordingly, he is often represented crowned with 
 the twigs thereof : though after his conquest of Lidia he likewise wore laurel; for 
 he, as well as Saturn, is accounted the god of triumphs. The vine was also pecu- 
 liar to Ithea\ and the crown of its twigs, which adorns the head of Hecate, implies 
 only the subtilties and snares which father Faunus, by the operations of wine (lead- 
 ing men to extravagance) laid for his daughter. 
 
 J lie cypiess is sacred to )dliito, god of hell, and of the sprigs and leaves of it the 
 ancients made gai lands. It is reckoned a mournful tix?e, and proper for places of* 
 burial ; because, when once cut, it shoots no more. Its branches, set in the ground 
 near tombs, or car^ved on them, signify that the deceased endeavoured by prayers 
 to be reconciled to the infernal gods : wherefore Horace says, “ Men are attended 
 to hell by no other tree than the unhappy and hateful cypress. Idluto's crown is also 
 composed of the herb adianthum, otherwise called capUli veneris. Some have 
 crowned him with Narcissus flowers and their leaves ; a flower proper for deceased 
 persons, on account of the unhappy end of the youth who was transformed into 
 it : wherefore F/mrmitus says, that the hellish furies, Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megccra, 
 had garlands of the same flowers about their heads, as servants and executioners of 
 the commands of Fluto. Ihe pine tree has much agreement with the cypress, it 
 being also the emblem of death ; for, when once cut, like the cypress, it never shoots 
 out again ; wherefore, and for its bitterness and sharpness, the pine-apple, both in 
 ancient and modern acceptation, signifies death. 
 
 Ihe double-coloured poplar was sacred to Hercules; because naturalists, by this 
 heio and the two colours of that tree, imply the two different times which super- 
 intend and govern all things ; for one of the colours being white, signifies the day, 
 and the other which is dark, the night Some have also ranked the poplai’ in the 
 number of unhappy trees ; for, in the isle of Rhodes, the funeral games in honour 
 of 'Ph’polemus were ciAehYoie^, and the performers of them crowned with it. 
 
 1 he peach-tree was sacred to Isis and to Harpocrales; the plane-tree to the Ge- 
 nii; and a garland of flowers to Ariadne. The bacchanals, in celebrating the vine- 
 feast of Bacchus, were coifed with greens. 
 
 If the curious reader desires further information in this point, he may consult the 
 histones of Claudius Saturninus, wherein he will find the origin, causes, qualities, 
 
223 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 and every thing else relating thereto, in such manner as to observe, that there are no 
 beautiful flowers, green branches, roots, &c. but what are peculiar to the head of 
 some person or other ^ 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 OF THE MILITARY DRESSES AND ARMS OF SEVERAL NATIONS, PAR- 
 TICULARLY OF THE GREEKS. AND ROMANS. 
 
 The distinction of nations cannot be well represented without due regard to their 
 warlike accoutrements, dresses, and manners. It is certain, that many painters 
 have been herein very deficient, as appears by their works, who, on better considera- 
 tion and greater experience, have afterwards corrected their errors. But I mean not, 
 by exposing the mistakes of other men, to palliate my own : I have had my faults 
 as well, and perhaps greater than they: lam sensible, that even in my very best 
 time, I was not free from some great blunders, which to this day I am concerned 
 for, and which, though I might conceal, I nevertheless lay open in the course of this 
 work: and, since I am speaking of mistakes, I shall here observe some, as necessary 
 to this chapter. 
 
 Testa^ in a print of the dragging of Hector s body, represents Achilles, though 
 a Greek, with a Rom<m head-piece, which he possibly did to keep the light together 
 and to preserve the face : he also exhibits both these heroes naked, and Achilles 
 without arms ; the sword in his hand makes him look more like a gladiator than 
 a general, and the scabbard by his side has no tie or girdle about his body. How 
 can he use the sword, when with one hand he holds the reins of the horses ? These 
 things are very improper and unnatural : but perhaps his inducement was, that he 
 might shew the beautiful body of the hero with greater advantage. In the last place 
 the town walls appear so low as to be easily reached over. 
 
 Poussin likewise, in the print of the death of Germanicus, has intermixed Greek 
 with Roman helmets. Let it not be thought, that we are unjust to the merits of 
 such great masters, by so nice an examen of their performances, since my purpose 
 herein is only by shewing other men’s faults to correct our own. But l am as will- 
 ing to shew^ mine, as they occur to my memory: witness my ILneas receiving the 
 arms of Venus, where I have also made a Roman helmet: and my father, in his re^ 
 presentation of Seneca, introduces one of Ncro’^ captains standing by him, with a 
 Greek head-piece. Now, art allows not such liberties either in military furniture or 
 any thing else. Each nation has its particular dress, manners, and customs. How 
 can we exhibit an Egptian prospect, without shewing some tokens of that country ? 
 
224 
 
 Of Still Life, 
 
 as palm-trees, pyramids, and people dressed in iheEgyptiaii mode? Wherefore let 
 me recommend care to every person, and that they do not build too much on other 
 mens v/orks. It is better to be nice than negligent. Let us understand a thing 
 never so well we may yet err through haste and carelessness. 
 
 Thinking it presumptuous toenumerate all the particulars of the military order of 
 the ancients, as being largely handled by several authors: we shall therefore, ac- 
 cording to our small ability, and for the service of curious artists, only touch briefly 
 on some of the principal matters relating to their arms, believing the residue will 
 follow in the course of their practice. I shall begin with the Greeks. 
 
 The Greek foot were divided into two sorts, pikemen or heavy armed, and archers 
 or light armed. The pikemen used a buckler, a sort of boots, a pike twenty or 
 twenty-four feet in length, and a sword : the stoutest had for defence a Macedonian 
 round shield of four feet diameter. The archers bore bucklers of wdcker, bows, 
 short pikes and slings : they wore long hair and beards, and helmets or head-pieces 
 somewhat projecting over the face, handsomely w rought with imagery or foliage, set 
 off with plumes and other elegant ornaments : their military dresses always excelled 
 in variety and elegance : their coats of armour reached down to the knees, cut out 
 on the shoulders and below, into straps which were often adorned with lions heads : 
 some instead of straps had twisted fringes. The generals and nobility wore buskins 
 of young lions or tigers-skins : or else neat sandals: but the inferior sort had plain 
 sandals with strings : their swords hung by their left side by a small hook on the 
 girdle, and on their right side was a dagger. 
 
 In the Roman military order, the young men between seventeen and tw^enty five 
 years of age were appointed for velites, or swift footmen, or light-armed ; the hastati, 
 for darters or pikemen: such as w-ere in their prime, for principes ; and the aged, 
 for triarii. 
 
 The velites wore a small buckler of a foot and a half long, an head-piece, a 
 sword and a lance three feet long, and a thumb thick, armed wdtha sharp triangu- 
 lar pointed steel or head, of a foot in length ; some carried strings, others bows. 
 
 The hastati and principes wore a short coat of armour, that they might be the 
 fitter for march and the management of all sorts of arms ; they had long breeches, 
 reaching half-w'ay the legs, and close at the knees, and helmet, and a large oval 
 buckler twm feet and a half in the transverse, and four or five feet in the conjugate 
 diameter: they were girt wdth swords on both sides; that on the left much longer 
 than the other, wduch, like a dagger, was but a span long. Their other weapons 
 ^vere, tw o darts or w ooden staves ; one thin like an arrow, and three cubits long, 
 and headed w ith iron : and the other of the same length, and as thick as the breadth 
 of file hand, with a poi'ited iron head as long as the staff, and let half-way into the 
 
Of Still Life. 225 
 
 wood, and beset with hooks: this iron next the wood was a finger and a half in 
 thickness. 
 
 The triarii bore the same arms as the principes, except that instead of the darts 
 they used pikes, formerly carried by the hastati, (and from whence they took their 
 name) who left them for the darts. The richest armed themselves with commodious 
 body-coats instead of breast-pieces. The Romans generally wore short hair, with 
 shaved chins, but the hair growing on each side of their cheeks; yet we must ob- 
 serve, that Scipio was the only person among them who had long hair* The Roman 
 helmets closing with the forehead, were made either of double leather, iron or brass, 
 and crested on top, like the Greeks, but less sumptuous ; except those of the gene- 
 rals and other commanders, which were plumed. Some also had winged helmets, 
 and on the crest a snake or dragon or an eagle’s head. 
 
 We find likewise that the ancient Romans, in their marches, carried a saw, a 
 basket, a spade, an axe, a bridle, a sickle, and provisions for three days. The Her- 
 culani of the old troops, and the Joviniani, or according to Vegetius, Joviani, were 
 two select Roman legions, consisting of six thousand men each, and serving in 
 Selavonia, to whom the Emperor Diocletianus, who caused himself to be styled 
 Jupiter, zxid Maximinianus Hercules, after they had gained him the imperial dignity, 
 gave that name in preference to all other legions for their valour. These, besides 
 their large swords and oblong shields, had darts, the insides whereof were run with 
 lead, and called Manorbarbuli, which for their heaviness forwards they could cast 
 with such force and certainty, that, before they used arrows and sw^ords, they so 
 galled the enemy and their horses, as to gain the emperors several great battles. 
 
 The Roman horsa wore a helmet and breast-piece like the foot, had a cross- 
 shield by the horse’s side, a long sword on their right side, a javelin in their hands, 
 and in their quivers three or more arrows broad-ironed, yet sharp pointed, and not 
 inferior to the javelins. The ensigns, both of foot and horse, wore lions skins over 
 their military dresses, and the trumpets the same, save that the two fore-paws of 
 the skins were by these latter tied under their chins, serving them also for cloaks. 
 These skins were not merely flayed with the hair on, but also fitted for service, and 
 underneath either fringed or elegantly cut out. 
 
 The Numidians and Cretians under Roman command and aiding them on horse- 
 back, as need required, were armed with bows and arrows, and also with slings, 
 wherewith they dexterously flung stones. Vliny writes, that even the scorpio, (a 
 machine of war) with which anciently they used to throw large stones and timbers, 
 was the invention of the Cretians. 
 
 The L/igurians, who for a long time valiantly kept the Romans at bay, were well 
 
 VOL. II. 2 G 
 
226 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 (liscipliiKid soldiers 5 armed vvitli a breast piece, a helmet, a shield, and in a close 
 dress. They were also very expert in throwing the javelin. 
 
 The Scythians, a barbarous people and horsemen, wore crested helmets pointed 
 on top ; they carried bows, daggers, and battle axes. 
 
 The Scythian women, called Amazons, oftentimes appeared in a combat, as Vin- 
 centius says, in antique silver helmets and breast-pieces, because their country 
 abounded with that metal. But, according to the ancient memoirs, their military 
 dresses were only adorned with serpents skins wrought in silver. They had the 
 left breast bare, but the right, which was scared, that they might with greater ease 
 use the bow and cast the dart, covered like the rest of their bodies. Their garment 
 buttoned below, reached not quite to their knees. Their defence was a target or 
 large round* shield cut hollow at one of the entreinities into the form of two conjoin- 
 ed crescents, having a part in the middle for covering and guarding the arm and hand. 
 One of these cuts served for managing the lance, and the other to look through. 
 They likewise carried axes and hammers. 
 
 The Goths, together with the great Attila, descended from the Scythians, were 
 armed with bows, arrows, long and strong spears or lances, shields, and helmets.. 
 The horsemen full armoured and carrying strong lances, hammers, and clubs, would 
 leap on their horses without the help of the stirrup or other advantage, especially on 
 smooth ice, or on snowy ground, where they generally fouglit their greatest battles. 
 Sometimes, as need required, and in the heat of battle they would in full gallop 
 throw themselves on another horse, turning and winding with incredible swiftness, 
 even catching up a lance from the ground, &c. An evidence what great warriors 
 these people formerly were. 
 
 The Persians and Spartans were very much alike in dress, except in their head 
 ornaments. The former wore turbans, and the latter caps like a night-cap, yet 
 pointed on top and curling forwards ; or else iron head-pieees, like the Romans, but 
 plain and without a crest. They had long hair, and their beards almost hid their 
 ears. On the other hand, the Versions shaved both their head and face. Their vest- 
 ment, girt about the middle, reached below the knees: they wore also long open 
 breeches and wide stockings and shoes. They used scaled arms, round shields, 
 greaves or shin-armour, scimitars hung on the right thigh, cross the body, and the 
 dagger on the same side, but at the girdle. At their back was the quiver. 
 
 Darius, the last king of Versia, was commonly arrayed in a rich purple mantle in- 
 termixed with white stripes, fastened on each shoulder with precious stones, and 
 before with a gold chain or hook. His coat of armour, wrought with gold, was em- 
 broidered on the breast with three golden eagles, having spread wings and tails 
 and bills turning towards eack other, and between the wings and tails were seen the 
 
227 
 
 Of Still Lifo, 
 
 following letters, NIKHTIKQTATOM, signifying, Always Conqueror. At his golden 
 girdle, girt loosely and womanish, hung a scimitar, the scabbard whereof was beset 
 with precious stones. 
 
 The Dacians wore gowns hanging down to the heels and open on the sides, and 
 over tliem a coat of mail which reached to the middle. Their helmets sat close 
 about the head, and ran up to a point. Their arms were bows and arrows, dagger, 
 and javelins; and their horses wdiolly guarded, except the eyes, with scaled 
 coverings. 
 
 The ParthianSy Medes, and Assyrians were guarded like the Persians, save that 
 the Parthians wore long coats of mail, covering both man and horse, and the Assy- 
 rians brass head-pieces. 
 
 The Phrygians and Ar medians used helmets, short spears, javelins, and daggers, 
 wearing wide stockings and shoes like the Persians, 
 
 The Carthaginians were as elegant and magnificent in arms as the Persians. 
 
 The Macedonians and their neighbours differed little in their dress and arms from 
 the Greeks. And, 
 
 The Romans and Trojans the same. 
 
 The Lacedemonians first began to carry a shield, sword, and axe. 
 
 The people of Caria were the first who served for pay, carried shields, bore ar- 
 mour, and had plumes or feathers on their helmets. 
 
 The Thracians wore head-pieces of fox skins, coats of armour, party coloured 
 dresses, and stockings of skins. Their weapons were darts, round shields, and 
 daggers. 
 
 The Mthiopean horse were guarded with an helmet, coat of armour reaching half 
 way the thighs, powdered, with iron eyes, and proof against cuts and pushes. Their 
 arms were a round shield, a lance, a scimitar, and clubs plated with iron. Those 
 who had no helmets wore long and hairy or woolly red caps, like the Mamalukes in 
 Egypt. The foot, to strike terror in their enemies, wore skins of lions, tigers, 
 leopards, and other wild beasts; and had for weapons large bows, pikes, arrows, 
 and slings. The emperor himself wore a costly silver diadem about his head, and 
 carried in his hand a silver crucifix. He was dressed in gold stuff full plaited over 
 a silk shirt with large ducal sleeves, and from his middle hung a loose garment of 
 silk and gold stuff. His body guards, covering their heads and shoulders with 
 beasts skins, carried a sword, a dagger, and a javelin. 
 
 The Indians were clothed in wood, and had bows of reeds, and arrows a yard 
 and a half long tipped with iron. 
 
 The Arabians wore girt coats, and used crooked but handy bows. 
 
 The Lyhians were dressed in leather, and had burnt javelins. 
 
 2g2 
 
228 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 The Egyptians bore a shield and broad sword. 
 
 The inhabitants of Baleares, now Majorca, Minorca, &c. had slings. 
 
 The Mtolians, lances and javelins. 
 
 The Switzers from ancient times were good soldiei*s, as appears by their contests 
 with Julius Caesar, used large and long shields for defence. Their arms were strong 
 spears, pikes, and clubs. 
 
 The Gauls carried large shields and long swords. 
 
 The people of the territory of Ahruzzo, anciently called Samnites, were good 
 horsemen and darters. 
 
 The inhabitants of Marcliia Anconitana, anciently styled by the Romans Ager 
 Vicenus, or country of wood-peckers, w ere likewise good soldiers, and bore a shield, 
 a pike, a helmet, and sword. 
 
 Thus I think to have made some provision for further enquiry, that artists may 
 not be at a loss. He who wants more information can read Virgil, Ammianus Mar- 
 cellinus, Vegetius Volyhius, and Herodotus Hallicarnassus ; which last, in the life of 
 Xerxes, lays dowm all the particulars relating to each people and all sorts of barba- 
 rians. Vitruvius also has written a treatise of the Roman military exercise. 
 
 Homer in his Iliad speaking of sights wherein some had gold,, brass, and steel ar- 
 mour says, “ he pushed hina in the belly, but pierced not his armour.” And in ano- 
 ther passage, “ he dealt him such a blow on his steel breast, as to make it strike fire 
 and resound.” Now if it be asked what sort of armour this must have been, of 
 massy gold and other metal : and whether it could be possible for any person to 
 move, bend, and turn, in such armour as shewed the muscles and limbs sat close to 
 the body? I answer, they could not, and that the notion of their having been thus is 
 wrong. I think those are also out of the way, who suppose they are so represented 
 for the sake of decorum, and that this is reason enough, without considering whether 
 it be possible or not ; since other reasons may be assigned, which can give better 
 satisfaction without forcing nature. For my part, I believe that the arms and their 
 use were anciently as now, and the coats of armour were like our buff coats, made 
 of leather. They may possibly have been so contrived as to shew the muscling; 
 but granting it, they must be much fitter for use than if of steel or solid gold. Where- 
 fore I cannot but think they were made of leather, and of all sorts of colours, 
 wrought or embroidered with silver or gold, even covered over with gold like our 
 gilt leather, and set off with scales, foliage, and other such ornaments. I remember 
 to have read in my youth, in a certain ancient Latin treatise yet extant, dedicated to 
 the emperors 'Theodosius and Valentinian, and entitled, ‘^‘TLhe great Number of the 
 Roman Forces,” that the Roman armours, breast-pieces, or military coats (as there 
 called) were lined with wool,, and covered with the skins of wolves, lions, and otheir 
 
Of Still Life. 229 
 
 wild beasts of Lih^a. Nevertheless, to support the opinion of the poets, I add, that 
 they had gold, brass, and steel breast and belly pieces fastened with small hooks 
 and buckles on the shoulders and sides, to ward olF blows ; but they were plain 
 without muscling, and not put on but in times of preparation for battle. Wherefore 
 they are much to blame who introduce such accoutrements on every occasion ; as 
 for instance, Scipio in his tent with the young bride, and sitting in full armour ; or 
 Alexander with Roxana; Rinaldo courting Armida; and other such occurrences. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OF THE ORIGIN OF THE SEVERAL ENSIGNS AND SHIELDS AND THEIR 
 
 DEVICES, FOR DISTINCTION OF NATIONS AND PARTICULAR PER- 
 SONS. 
 
 It being in painting absolutely necessary, first to distinguish the nations, and next 
 the personages among them of higher and lesser degree, by tokens either devised ty 
 themselves, or appropriated by others, I think proper to handle this point largely, 
 in order to shew the greatness of the Roman power, and the many foreign troops 
 entertained in their service : I say both painters and statuaries, especially the lat- 
 ter, ought to be acquainted with these things, that in representing either a particular 
 nation or hero, they may, on their shields, exhibit the proper badges of distinction, 
 whereby to be presently known by persons conversant in antiquities. This know- 
 ledge is as necessary for histo,ry painters, since histories frequently make mention of 
 a congress of several nations and their heroes in one place, without describing their 
 arms and banners; a point which cost me much trouble to gain, but proved of great- 
 er advantage in the uses I made thereof, and which I introduce here as having some 
 relation to the preceding chapter. 
 
 On consulting histories, I find the ancients, instead of banners, made us^e of a bun- 
 dle of arrows or boughs and greens tied together, which they called manipulus, or a 
 handful, and the ensign bearers, manipularii. Titus Livius, the nice Roman histo- 
 rian and antiquary, tells us that Romulus, having by accident appeased a tumult 
 with few people, from that time represented it in the ensigns and arms by a wisp of 
 hay ; causing this token, as a happy one, to be borne before him in the ensuing wars. 
 The afterwards painted on their ensigns and standards small red flames, in 
 
 token of success ; as in the battle with the Sabines near Eretum, where the arms of 
 the former appeared by night as if on fire, without being damaged. Thus the stand- 
 ards and ensigns of the legions, by the sight whereof the soldiers knew the wills of 
 their generals, were from time to time augmented. They had also at different times 
 
230 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 divers other tokens ; as open right hands, the image of their emperors in silver, or 
 gold, or gilt, and sometimes there hung under them a small pendant, liaving the 
 general or people’s motto, S. P. Q. R'. They likewise bore in their banners the 
 representation of wolves, minotaurs, wild boars, horses, bulls, and dragons, till at 
 last they fixed on the eagle for the chief field standard. The Homans used the 
 wolf, minotaur, wild boar, horse, bull, and dragon, for the following reasons: — the 
 wolf, partly as he was sacred to 3Iars the god of war, and partly because his pene- 
 tration is so great, that he can see as well by night as by day ; whereby they meant 
 that a prudent general ought always to be on his guard, so as not to be surprised 
 by the stratagems of the enemy. By the minotaur, says Vegetius, they signified, 
 that as this beast kept himself in the most hidden part of the labyrinth, so the de- 
 .signs of a general ought to be kept secret. The wild boar, because no peace or ces- 
 sation of arms was made without it: vide our 9th Book, treating of the offerings. 
 The horse, as being of great account among the Homa?is, and the proper sign of war. 
 The bull, because the ancient Romans pretended that the word Italia was derived 
 from which now-a-days signifies a calf or bull. The dragon they commonly 
 
 painted on the banners of the foot, and each century had one; whence the bearer of 
 it, according to Vegetius^ was called dragonarius. Ammianus Mercellinus tells Us 
 the manner of carrying of it. “ They tied,” says he, “ to the tops of their gilt pikes, 
 which were gold fringed and beset with pearls and precious stones, dragons made of 
 woven stuff and hollow within, which, on being advanced in the air, opened their 
 frightful mouths, and made a grumbling noise full of wrath and fury, bending and 
 moving their tails with the wind.” Of which Claudianus speaks ; “ Rt cessante vento 
 multi taue^re deacones^'’ i. e. The dragons were all silent when the wind abated. 
 This ensign, according io Ammianus aforesaid, was of a reddish purple. The eagle, 
 surpassing all other birds in courage and boldness, is not improperly called the Ro- 
 man eagle; for to what corner of the known world has he not extended the Roman 
 dominion? ‘ What resisting nation has not felt the effect of their deliberations, and 
 the valour wherewith they put them in execution? And yet I know from history, 
 that the eagle was in use long before among the Persians ; for Cyrus, the founder of 
 that monarchy, bore, according to Xenophon, a golden eagle with spread wings on a 
 long pike, as if he would fly over the universe : which custom his successors retained 
 as a royal token. By a consent of the soothsayers, all nations anciently ascribed to this 
 bird the honour of l3elieving he prognosticated good luck and happy success in any 
 undertakings. In which sense Jmtinus tells us that Hiero when young, who was of 
 mean birth on his mother’s side, making his first campaign, an eagle flew down and 
 sat on his shield ; which was judged as a presage of his becoming in time an excel- 
 lent general and a king, as afteiwvards came to pass. The poets even say that this 
 
231 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 bird implies prosperity assigned to any person by divine Providence. This opinion 
 owes its rise to the relation of Anac?'eou, the first writer of antiquities, ihatJtfpiier 
 intending to destroy the giants vvlio threatened to storm heaven, the powers of which 
 lie oflfered to, w as, by an accidental flight of an eagle, assured of a happy and suc- 
 cessful victory ; wdiich afterwards obtaining, he always bore a golden eagle in his 
 arms and banners, as a perpetual memorial thereof. From Jupiter the Cretimis as- 
 sumed that bird, and from them the Candiots. JElneas the Trojan introduced him 
 among the Latins ; and from them the Romans, in process of time, came to use him 
 for their arms ; though Lipsms is of opinion, they assumed him after the example of 
 the Persians. The Tuscans, beaten by the Romans in their last conflict near the city 
 of Eretmn, on the bordei'S of the Sabines, presented Tarquinius Priscus, king of the 
 Romans, their king s regalia ; to wut, a gold crown, a purple garment, and mantle of 
 various colours*; also an ivory chair, and an ivory sceptre with an eagle on top, 
 which he and his successors always bore. After the banishment of the kings, the 
 senate took the eagles from their sceptres, and set them on their pikes, exalting him 
 above all their Other arms, whether the wolf, minotaur, horse, wild boar, &c. Ma- 
 rius, when a child, happening to find an eagle’s nest with seven young, a presage of 
 his two consulats, often placed the said number in his arras ; and in his second con- 
 sulat assigned the eagle to the Roman legions, using him only in battles in order to 
 spirit the soldiers and assure them of victory. The other military tokens were set 
 on the tents, but Marius took them down; and from that time no legion was without 
 two eagles. But Josephus, in his Fourth Book, gives ^^ach legion one eagle; and 
 by the number of eagles they counted their legions ; diB Hirtius says, that Pompefs, 
 army consisted of thirteen eagles. Dion also assigns each legion an eagle. .This 
 eagle stood with extended wings, on a piluin or staflf, which, according to Vegetius, 
 was five feet and a half in length, armed with a sharp triangular iron of nine ounces. 
 The bearers of it they called aquilifere. These eagles were but small, and of silver, 
 and many had the thunder in their talons. The Romans first used silver eagles, as 
 did also Brutus; because silver is the brightest metal and most like the day, and 
 therefore most proper for a mihtary token : but afterw^ards they made them of 
 gold, as more stately and surpassing the silver. The Romans first used silver tokens 
 as being originally frugal and saving ; but at length they yielded to none, even not to 
 the Persians, in luxury, pomp, and show. 
 
 Jidius CcEsar BO highly prized the Batavians, in Roman pay, that he made them 
 his body-guards ; intrusting them likewise, in the sharpest engagements, with the 
 carriage of the first and chief standards of the Roman eagles. 
 
 The Herculeans of the old troops, mentioned in the preceding chapter, bear 
 
232 Of Still Life. 
 
 on their ensign a blue eagle with spread wings, in a silver field cornered with 
 gold. 
 
 The young Herculeans carried in their standards a golden eagle sitting on a stem 
 of a tree, in a blue field bordered with gold. 
 
 The new Jovinians had in their ensigns a golden eagle, with a diadem or royal 
 fillet about the head. This eagle was neither black or brown, in a gold field, and 
 the wings were set off with red and blue, and had a small gold shield on his breast. 
 But those of the old troops carried a purple eagle adorned with red and gold in a 
 blue field. 
 
 The legiona called quart odecimaniy stationed in Thracia for the defence of these 
 countries, bear a pale blue eagle, sitting on a globe of bright and deep blue, in a sil- 
 ver field bordered and centred with gold. 
 
 The divitenses, a legion of the Gauls, carried an eagle of faint scarlet, and a gold- 
 en bull in a silver field. 
 
 The Thehans also bear an eagle. 
 
 The banner of the first company of life guards of the emperor Theodosius, com- 
 manded by a colonel of the foot, had the figure of a half man with extended 
 arms, holding in the right hand a rope, and in the left a hat ; thereby inti- 
 mating, that the stubborn and rebellious should be chastised, and the obedient made 
 free. 
 
 In the second banner was a golden bull on the jut of a red hill, with a Moor or 
 black down to the middle, holding a piece of thick rope in the right hand, and a 
 cap or hat in the left ; shewing that they might make prisoners and slaves, and set 
 men at liberty. 
 
 The Thracians carried the idol Mars in their standards. 
 
 The people of Smyrna the image of Fortune. And, 
 
 The Cormthians, a ISeptune, or the horse Pegasus. 
 
 The regiment called the Old Argivi of the East, commanded by the general of the 
 foot, had two leaping horses of gold, in a blue field. 
 
 The regiment of foot called the second of Theodosus, first established in his reign, 
 carried in its ensigns a golden horse in a red field bordered with gold. 
 
 Anotlier foot legion, set up in the Emperor Constans' time, whence it was called 
 Constantia, had also a golden horse in a sky blue field, and above him, in the mid- 
 dle, a red globe, against which he was rearing and throwing himself out with all his 
 might. 
 
 The Athenians, Cephalenians, Thessalians, and Syracusans, also carried a horse. 
 
 The Gauls and Saxons had a lion, and the latter sometimes a horse. 
 
Of StI/l Life. 233 
 
 Tlie Cmh-iaiis bear a bull, whose figure cast they likettiSe carried oft a lance at 
 the head of their armies. 
 
 Tho Armenians carried a ram, or a crowned lion. 
 
 The had also a lion. 
 
 The Asiatics, a large whale guided by a child, sitting astride on his back. 
 And, 
 
 Tlie Got Its, a she bear. 
 
 The banner of the Sabii had two half wolves rearing up against each other, and 
 fixing their eyes on a rose which was over their heads, in a gold field bordered with 
 
 purple. It IS no wonder these people blazoned the wolf, seeing they claimed Mars 
 as their protector. 
 
 The regiment of foot called Jovianum, which had the fifth post of honour among 
 the Romans, bear, in the emperor Diocletianus's time, a red hog sitting upri<riit on 
 Its hinder parts, in a blue field bordered with gold : and, for this reason, the^poets 
 have feigned that Jnpiter when a child and lying in the wood was nursed by a sow ; 
 
 and this regiment, having the name of Jupiter, it therefore carried the ho<- in its 
 standards, in memory of the occurrence. 
 
 The foot regiment of guards, established by the Emperor Hmiorim, bears two demi- 
 red hogs rearing against each other, in a silver shield and gold field. 
 
 The Trojans likewise carried a hog in a gold field. 
 
 The Phrygians had also a hog. 
 
 The regiment called Tertiodecimani, had a leaping blue dog, in a silver field 
 centred with gold, and bordered with dark blue. 
 
 From the time oS Constantine the Great down to those of Theodosius, Ilonorius 
 and several successive emperors, the Romans had a foot regiment called Menapii, 
 whose device was a leaping fed dog, in a silver field, centred with a small gold shield' 
 and under it another dog lying on his back and flinging up his legs. This body was 
 111 high esteem for the honour it gained in vanquishing the Thracians, 
 
 The Cynopohtans bear Anvhis in the shape of a dog. 
 
 The Cortonenses devised a silver dragon, in a red field; on the sides were tio 
 rings, that on the left of a very deep red, and the other of silver. 
 
 The JLacedemonians had the Greek letter A, or a dragon. 
 
 The jMdMBs bear the image of Hercules; but their horse, according to Stddas, 
 carried dragons. o ♦ 
 
 The Nervii, being the body-bowmen of the emperors, had for device two demi- 
 caducei or wands twined with serpents, in a purple field bordered with gold and 
 red. In the centre of the shield was a gold ring on a small gold column, round 
 
 VOL. II. 2 H 
 
234 Qf 
 
 which the aforesaid serpents winding, their upper parts making a semi-circlc, and 
 their heads regarding each other. 
 
 The Saguntiuns had for device two red serpents ; and, as Ammianus says, of 
 purple, crossing each other, like the Greek letter X, in a sky-blue field bordered 
 
 with red. « 7 • 
 
 The company of Bienians, serving under the general of the foot m l^clavonia^ 
 
 bear in their banners a deep blue serpent with a bent tail towards the ground, 
 with a man’s head looking backwards, in a blue silver-like field bordered with 
 
 gold. 
 
 The Marcomani had a gold demi-serpent in a silver field, and between the head 
 
 and the under part was a gold half moon. 
 
 The Curians bare a gold serpent coiled up, in a grey field bordered with silver and 
 
 blue checkers. . j r j 
 
 The legion of foot, called the sixth Parthian, serving in the East, had, tor de- 
 vice, a yellow caduceus, or Mercury's wand, in a blue field edged with purple and 
 
 silver. 
 
 The legion of the Angrivarii, carried a red staff topped with a round ball, out of 
 which issued two serpents, bending to the middle of the shield as if kissing each 
 other, in a pale blue field, with a double edging of purple and gold. 
 
 Among the ancient legions was a regiment called Valentiani^ established by the 
 Emperor Valens on his waging war with the Thracians : these carried m their stand- 
 ards a small red column and two half moons of the same colour, over two golden 
 hares jumping against each other in a silver field. 
 
 The Libyans had three hares. 
 
 The ensign of the Roman legion, called Augusta, was an exact red cat, set 
 off with gold, in a silver field, and turning her head sideways, as if going back- 
 
 vrards. 
 
 The Apini had a blue cat walking upright, in a crimson field, set off with gold. 
 The ancient Alani, Bugundiones and Suevi, also carried a cat ; thereby intimat- 
 ing, that they could bear the yoke of servitude with as little stomach as the cat 
 
 cared to be locked up. 
 
 The Egyptians carried a crocodile, or else a cat. 
 
 Not long before the decay of the Roman monarchy, they had a legion in pay, 
 called Cornuti, whose device was a red falcon in a gold field, set off with blue and 
 
 red. 
 
 The inhabitants of Peloponnesus bear a tortoise. 
 
 The Boeotians, a sphinx. 
 
 The Locrenses, a locust. And 
 
255 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 The Assyrians, in memory of Semirami, a dove. 
 
 The Arcadians, who set up for the most ancient people in the world, and to be 
 co-eval with the moon, therefore carried the moon in their ensigns ; and Sometimes 
 the god Pan, who is the emblem of the whole earth. 
 
 TheVarthans had a broadsword or scimitar in the hand of a winged arm. 
 
 - The Greeks commonly had two crowns. 
 
 The Medes, three crowns. 
 
 The Macedonians, Hercules'^ club between two horns.] 
 
 The Cappadocians, a cup. 
 
 The Scythians, a thunder. And 
 
 The Phoenicians, a sun and moon. . . . , 
 
 The ensign of the foot, called hraccati juniores, an illustrious title among the an- 
 
 cient Romans, was of a dark blue colour, having a star with eight points in the up- 
 per part, and in the middle a circle embellished with gold. 
 
 The Troenenses bear a trident. , • r • i 
 
 The imperial standard of the emperor Theodosius had a cross, m which sign he 
 
 put all his confidence. ^ « 
 
 Constantine, in the battle with Maxentius, had for his banner a long staff having 
 on top a cross-piece, both plated with gold, and above, a ctown, beset with precious 
 stones, on which were engraved the two first letters of the name of Christ in Greek, 
 to wit a P in the middle of an X ; a name he likewise bore on his helmet : to the 
 aforesaid cross-piece hung a pendant, embroidered with gold and pearls ; under the 
 aforesaid name and the standard of the cross, he obtained a glorious victory over the 
 
 tyrant Maxentius. ^ • j j 
 
 Lucianus writes, that the Pentagon is the emblem of a happy enterprize and good 
 
 success, proceeding from the following consideration ■.—Anltochus the First snr- 
 named Soter, i. e. Saviour, waging war with the Galatians, and perceiving, y e 
 daily increase of new dangers and difficulties, that the issue would not be so prosper- 
 ous as he could wish, dreamed, or so pretended, in order to spirit his soldiers, that 
 he had conversadon with Alexander the Great, who advised him to take for his em- 
 blem the common word of salutation, in Cxreek YFEIA, or, I wish you health and 
 prosperity, and to give it to his commanders and soldiers for the general watch-word, 
 Ld have it carried on their arms, shields, and barriers, as being to serve him for a 
 token of victory ; whereupon he described to them the shape of this emb em ; w ic 
 was, three triangles drawn through each other with five lines, constituting a qum an- 
 gular figure, and on each angle one of the said letters. Antiochn^, having done this 
 obtained a signal victory over the Galaimns. There are still extant several coins 
 and medals ot Antiochus, being the said pentagon or quintangular figure. 
 
 2 H 2 ^ 
 
The Argonauts, or those of Argos, had the letter A in their ensign, as being their 
 initial letter ; yet they bear likewise a fox or rat. 
 
 The 3fessi?iia7is carried an M. And 
 
 The Jews had the letter T, the token of salvation. 
 
 The painted and engraved shields (in reference to which, many of the learned 
 would derive tlie Latin word scutum, a shield, from sculpture, because it was cus- 
 tomary to engrave or represent glorious actions and histories upon them) were an 
 ciently a certain sign of the valour of those who carried them : and, lest the soldiers 
 in the heat of battle, should mistake their comrades, each legion, accordin<^ to Ve- 
 getms, had particular marks on their shields ; and on the inside of whtch was 
 written each soldier’s name, and what company he belonged to. 
 
 The shields or targets were of different makes at the place where they guarded the 
 hand: as, those of t\ie Armenian order had two indentures cut out down the 
 sides; as we have said in the foregoing chapter touching the shields of the Atnazons. 
 These shields were of a sky-blue colour, with a silver field. Those of the second' 
 
 Arnienian order were quite round, of a purple colour, with a sky-blue field bordered 
 with gold. ^ 
 
 The Vesoulians bear shields with four small ones at the angles, making a square • 
 two whereof were of silver, a id the others of sky-blue, double bordered. 
 
 The shield of the Menaph had a silver field with a gold dog in full speed as if 
 rminiiig to the outside. t' v > 
 
 The Almtimans bear in their arms and shields the trident, as a sign, according 
 to Pindanis, of their being citizens of that town. 
 
 The Romans, after Adrian's time, carried in their crescent-like shields, in a silver 
 field, two gold denii-horses curvetting against each other, and called Mauriferoces 
 or stout and fearless ; whereby some allude to 
 
 The Spartans bear a dragon. 
 
 The Greeks, the god Neptune, And 
 
 The Trojans, 3Imerm. 
 
 The Lacedemonians carried the Greek letter A, for their signification. And 
 
 The Messemans, formerly an excellent and valuable people, an M, for the same 
 reason. 
 
 The Athenians often bear an owl in their arms. 
 
 The Jews affirm, that they were the first who made distinction between people of 
 high and low degree, by particular tokens : accordingly, those who were of eminent 
 or noble families, wore in their shoes a waxing moon. 
 
 The ..drsyriaas, Egyptians, Persians, and Greefo, for that reason used the same 
 token: whence it is probable the Turks, \n process of time, took it for their 
 
 Sstcincicirci* 
 
Of Still Life. 537 
 
 The Romans likewise, in token of nobility, wore a waxing moon on their shoes ; 
 which therefore they called lunulati calcei. 
 
 The Athenians expressed the antiquity of their descent by a grasshopper; as 
 Thucydides xeXzX^f^ 'm the beginning of his history, styling them P( rtigalae, from their 
 custom of wearing gold grasshoppers in their head-ornaments (and their generals 
 the same on their helmets), for distinction between the foreign and native nobility. 
 
 Ancient writers assure us, that most heroes bear some device or other oh their 
 shields ; some of which I shall here set down, without regard to dignity, or priority 
 of time wherein they lived. 
 
 Osiris, sirnamed Janus, bare in his ensign a sceptre topped with an eye; and 
 sometimes with the addition of an eagle, the sun, or such like object : and Isis 
 carried a moon. 
 
 Hercules, called by some the great Osiris, bear a lion with a battle-axe in his 
 paws ; or else the seven headed serpent, Hydra. 
 
 Mat's had a wolf, and on his helmet a magpie. 
 
 Pallas carried the head of Medusa on her shield and breast-piece; and, on side 
 of her helmet, a griffin ; and on top either a sphinx or owl. 
 
 Theseus's device was a minotaur with a club on his shoulders ; and oftentimes, 
 an ox. 
 
 Cadmus bear a dragon. 
 
 Castor had a silver star, in a blue field: and 
 
 Pollux the same, in a red one. 
 
 Nimrod, the first king of Bahel, bear a ram : and 
 
 Ninus 2indL Serimamus, a dove; to which the latter added a leopard, because he 
 had overcome and killed one. 
 
 Hector carried a lion sitting in a purple chair, with a halberd in his paws. 
 
 Ulysses a fox, and on his helmet a dolphin. 
 
 Pausanias, in his Greek history relates, that the Elisians carved on Agamemnon's 
 shield a lion’s head, in order to affright his enemies ; and thus subscribed, “ Be- 
 hold the terror of the world.” But Homer is more elegant in this description. 
 
 Pyrrhus bears an eagle ; or, according to some, the Nine Muses, with Apollo 
 on mount Helicon. 
 
 Achilles had an oak tree. And 
 
 Paris, a golden head. 
 
 Alcibiades' shield was of ivory and gold, and thereon a Cupid embracing the 
 thunder. 
 
 Alexander the Great bear a lion, and oftentimes the image of victory ; or else, the 
 Bucephalus, or a wolf, or a ram. 
 
238 
 
 Of Still Life. 
 
 Oscus, king of Tyrrhenmiy now Tuscany, carried in his arms and shield a ser- 
 pent, which, according to Servius, the Roman writer, was also the device of the kings 
 of Egypt. 
 
 Judas Macahccus had a basilisk. 
 
 Scipio Africanus bear the pictures of his father and uncle in his shield ; and his 
 head-piece represented an elephant’s head. 
 
 Sccevola carried in his shield the picture of his heroic ancestor, Mutius Scavola. 
 
 Antiochus had a rod twined with a serpent. 
 
 Octavianus Augustus, a sphinx. 
 
 Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, the same. 
 
 Seleucus, a bull. 
 
 Lucius Papirius Cursor, the horse of Pegasus. 
 
 Epaminondas, a dragon. 
 
 Pompey the Great, a lion with a sword in his paws : this w^as also the device of 
 his seal ring, delivered after his death to Julius Ccesar. 
 
 Julius Ccesar carried in his standard these words. The Mother A^enus ; and, on 
 his shield, a double-headed eagle. 
 
 Sylld*s device was Apollo of Delphos. And 
 
 Marius*s, the lares, or household gods. 
 
 Macenas bear a frog. And 
 
 Vospasianus, the head of Medusa. 
 
 He who would have a thorough account of the shields, targets, helmets, &c. of 
 the Greeks, Trojans, and other nations, may satisfy his curiosity by reading Homer 
 and Virgil, in their copious and elegant descriptions. 
 
 END OF book XI. 
 
 / 
 
TKS 
 
 abt of fainting. 
 
 BOOK XII. 
 
 OF FLOWERS, 
 
 EMBLEM CONCERNING FLOWERS. 
 
 Youthful Flora sits here attired in blue, yellow, and red, attended by four chil- 
 dren representing the four seasons, each dressed in a garment or drapery of the co- 
 lour peculiar to him, and dancing with flowers and fruits, which they present to her. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 OF FLOWERS IN GENERAL. 
 
 The spring being the most delightful season of the year, it is no wonder that flow- 
 ers have a particular ckarm above other objects ; and this not only in nature, but also 
 in a painting ; which though ever so indifferent, lovers often prefer before a fine piece 
 of history or landscape. 
 
 It is remarkable, that amidst the various choices in the art of painting, none is 
 more feminine, or proper for women than this ; and the reason is plain. It is also 
 to be noted, that of those choices one is as perfect as the other, with respect to 
 art, were it ever so singular ; and though this choice is but a small part of the whole, 
 yet it is attended with so many excellencies: for as a bunch of grapes carries its 
 perfection, so the least grain does the same. But though both the parts, as well as 
 the whole, fall under the same rules, and one master understand his branch as well 
 as the other; yet he who has from his youth applied himself to this or that single 
 choice, let his progress therein be what it will, can perform nothing else that is good. 
 
240 
 
 Of Flowers. 
 
 We have many instances of excellent masters who departed from the general to par- 
 ticular choices w’ith applause, but of none who have done the contrary without dis- 
 credit. I reckon discredit as bad an exchange as copper for gold, or water for wine. 
 Of the former sort are innumerable Italimi French as well as Low Dutch mas- 
 ters ; but of the latter few, among whom Vcrelst alone claims the laurel, to the wonder 
 of those who knew him when he painted flowers: for, if ever a painter excelled in 
 that branch, he was the person : neither 3Iario da Fiori, father Segers, or de Ileem 
 came up to such a pitch ; and yet through a bad exchange, he at last fell from an 
 agreeable spring into a sorrowful winter, wherein he perished. I bring this example 
 for two reasons: first, in confirmation of my assertion, that he who can perform the 
 most difficult things, may easily, even without trouble, attain those of less considera- 
 tion ; but not the contrary without disadvantage and discredit. Secondly, because 
 my design is to treat of flowers, as an effectual admonition to those who wmuld be- 
 stow their time with advantage on that single choice. 
 
 Flower painting is certainly a commendabre study ; but as there are double and 
 single flowers, so there are two sorts of flower painters ; the one singular and simple, 
 and the other rich and ingenious ; of which latter sort we have but few, and of the 
 ce. ^Fhree thin^^s are especially necessary in a good flower-piece, 
 first, choioe and beautiful flowers ; secondly, good disposition and harmony ; and, 
 lastly, neat and soft penciling. First, the flowers must not be poor or mean, but 
 such as are large, beautiful, and in esteem. Secondly, that whether lying or stand- 
 ing, they always keep their proper quality and shape, i. e. that the round seem not 
 by too extra vagant a spread to be triangular, square, or oblong, wdiereby to mistake 
 one flower for another ; that the most noble and beautiful have the predominancy, 
 and that by their placing they produce an agreeable mixture of colours, delighting 
 and satisfying the eye; consisting in so orderingthe strong and striped with the faint 
 ones, as to exhibit a lovely rainbow. Lastly, that each flower be w^ell expressed ac- 
 cording to its nature and quality ; as one thin, another thick, this soft and limber, 
 that set and stifl ; one shining*, another dull and glossless. 
 
 We are in the next place to suppose, that it is impossible to be a master without 
 a firm and exact draught and thorough acquaintance with perspective, together 
 with good knowledge of the colours and their bodies, and which will stand best; 
 
 .ind lastly, a due inquiry into the nature of flowers, that they may be treated accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 fie who would follow this study in good earnest ought to be master of a flower 
 garden, which he should carefully cultivate, that he may in the seasons be furnished 
 w ith fine and choice flowers : for though modelling be a great assistance in winter 
 practice, when the life is not to be had, yet no perfection is attainable without the 
 
Of Flowers. i'Ml 
 
 life. He who is a fifm and nimble draughtsman*, and a good manager of water co- 
 lours, has a double advantage, and may in time get a treasure of beautiful model 
 flowers, bearing good prices and great esteem among the curious. After the flowers, 
 the green leafingnf them is of great importance, through its various qualities and 
 difference in texture and cofour, causing a flower piece to look natural and more de- 
 corous. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF PAINTING FLOWERS IN HALLS, APARTMENTS, GALLERIES, BUT 
 PRINCIPALLY ON CEILINGS FOR ORNAMENT. 
 
 It is the business of a good floWer painter principally to aim at What is praise- 
 worthy. What great things, what glorious occasions is there for a master’s fame 
 But this lies not always in the representations of garlands of flowers, pots, glass 
 bottles, butterflies, flying beetles, cobwebs, or drops of water, any more than in neat 
 penciling and bright colours, with which we think to set the world in a gaze. Such 
 trifles are too low, and the repetition too irksome for the taste of noble souls. Wha^ 
 opportunities do not daily happen in palaces, gardens, galleries, and apartments, for 
 shewing our skill and ingenuity ? Suppose to yourself a lofty room built with white 
 marble, and set out with fine pictures and bass-reliefs, for the common recreation of 
 young gentlemen and ladies : this room may be embellished above, and on each side 
 of the niches, with fine and large festoons of flowers : between the pilasters and over the 
 bass-reliefs much green ; yet somewhat less in case any landscapes be there ; and on 
 the white marble may be all sorts of beautiful coloured flowers. On red marble 
 contrarily, white and yellow oUes, &c. according to the rules of art, and in large 
 parts: now light, then again dark leafing, as the matter and ground require. But of 
 the several grounds and colours of flowers suitable to them, we shall hereafter treat 
 particularly. On the ceiling there may be thin branches of airy foliage, also inter- 
 mixed with flowers, here festoon-ways, there in groups, fastened with ribbons or 
 rings, and having in some places loose sprigs and leaves projecting from the ground, 
 and returning their proper shades thereon (which though the life is not to be had, 
 may by some such made things be performed) that they may seem more naturally to 
 hang off. Such flowers and leaves ought to be strongly and boldly handled, but yet 
 so as to seem fastened to the work ; well considering the colour and lightness or 
 darkness of the ground, and choosing for it flowers of such colours, that some may 
 look as if sticking to it, and others coming off. Now if many festoons be to hang in 
 such a place or room, they must needs have alike length, breadth, and fullness, and 
 be placed equally high or low. What difference is it to us, whether the proprietor 
 
 VOL. II. 2 I 
 
242 Of Flowers. 
 
 desire to have flowers or fruits, or a mixture of both ? For the festoons may be nlied 
 with peaches, apricots, mulberries, plumbs, &c. hanging on their twigs. Over the 
 representation of a bacchanal some bunches of white and blue grapes, intermixed 
 with pine-apples, look becoming. On the alcove may hang loosely over it papavers 
 of all sorts of colours, interspersed with poppies, tied here and there with ribbons, 
 as most proper for that place. 
 
 Why should not such sorts of ornament be agreeable when naturally disposed ana 
 painted ; especially if well lighted, and the ground shades duly expressed on the 
 ground ? The company beforementioned may possibly raise mirth enough among 
 themselves ; but so pleasant a sight must needs be a great addition to it. Let us 
 therefore take hold of every opportunity that offers, and in the mean time exercise 
 our talents in the attainment of a great handling. Let us exchange our small clothes 
 for whole walls ; our pots or bottles for vases ; and a muddling for a beautiful man- 
 mer. Let us inquire what flowers are painter-like, and which the principal ; con- 
 joining their sense, application, and colour together, with their proper grounds. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 THAT A rLOWEIt-PAINTER SHOULD UNDERSTAND PERSPECTIVE*. ALSO 
 THE MISTAKE OP REPRESENTING THINGS IMPROPERLY, 
 
 We have already asserted, that a good flower-painter must needs understand per- 
 spective : and yet (which is to be lamented) few know any thing of it ; possibly, sup- 
 posing they have no occasion for it, and that therefore this branch is so much easier 
 than history, or any thing else which cannot subsist without perspective, as indispu- 
 tably requiring more by-works, viz. architecture, landscape, or other object causing 
 ground shades, which never happen in their work : and, should they at any time be 
 non-plussed, they can get help from those who are acquainted with perspective. If 
 therefore they have but a point of sight, they think that sufficient ; and yet not for 
 the sake of the flowers, but solely for the corner of a marble table or slab, whereon 
 they set a flower glass, as if the lighting or shading of the flowers were a matter of 
 indifference ; this from a-side, that fronting ; one from below, another from above ; 
 whence their pieces have usually many points of sight, sometimes as many as there 
 are flowers. But it cannot be otherwise, since they often paint after models ; plac- 
 ing a flower on the left side, which stood before on the right, and the contrary, or else 
 below or above ; which they imagine nobody will discover, because they cannot see 
 It themselves. 
 
243 
 
 Of Flowers, 
 
 Another ridiculous custom of some flower painters, in my opinion is, that in paint- 
 ingany gloss bodies, such as flower glasses, gold, silver, or copper vases, after the 
 life, they fail not to shew therein the panes of the windows, and afterwards to hang 
 the pictures in halls and galleries which have none. Here let me take notice of an 
 extraordinary nice and finished piece of that nature, painted by a certain known 
 gentlewoman, wherein not only some stalks of the flowers appeared naturally 
 through the glass, but also her own picture in her posture of painting, with such an 
 air, as evidently shewed it was she who sat in it : nor did she forget to represent also 
 the windows and panes, sky and clouds. We need not question whether she endea- 
 voured by the depth of her penetration, to surpass her master in that piece of work. 
 This case is a-kin to that of a certain young artist, who painting a looking glass 
 fronting, brought into it all that appeared behind him : people could not be persuad- 
 ed it was a looking glass, though painted dark and dull, and it had a frame about it ; 
 and his protestations, that every thing was taken from the life, stood him in little 
 stead ; wherefore to salve the matter as he thought, he painted himself in the looking- 
 glass, sitting at his easel; and to make it more perfect underwrit,— “ this is a looking 
 glass, and that is me.” 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 OF FLOWERS ON ALL SORTS OF GROUNDS. 
 
 That white is set off by black, and the contrary, needs no demonstration ; and, on 
 the other hand, white on white, and black on black, causes a sticking together ; Of 
 which particular a notice ought to be taken, that flowers may have their due force 
 and effect ; so ordering them, that some seem to stick to the ground, and others to 
 come off from it. The most proper grounds for flowers are these ; 
 
 The colour of blue tomb-stone. 
 
 Dark-olive or green serpentine. 
 
 Light-grey freestone. 
 
 White marble, but of a second tint. 
 
 This observation would rather spoil a good composition, than have ihe desired 
 effect, if we did not maturely weigh what uses we would put these grounds to, 
 also where the flowers most properly ought to have the greatest strength, and 
 where the greatest weakness, in order that the principal (I mean, the fixed stone 
 and wood work) may not thereby be overpowered. I say strength, with respect to 
 force and beauty ; but I mean not by weakness, that the colour, .light, or shade 
 
 2 I 2 
 
244 Of Tlozi^ers, ^ 
 
 should be weakened of sullied: however, I shall in the sequel explain what I mean 
 by that word. ^ 
 
 Any colour suits on white; but the darkest most beautifully. Warm colours are 
 preferable to the broken ones, and the most weak ought to be on the extremi-? 
 ties; but few white ones, and those with caution. What I now. say concerns the 
 disposition ; which I shall more plairdy treat in speaking of festoons and groups, of 
 flowers. 
 
 The black grounds, though quite diflferent from the preceding with respect to 
 great force, can give little reflection, and therefore do not admit of light or weak 
 flowers; but nevertheless fall under the same rules and observations as flowers on a 
 white ground ; because the greens by their union have a relation to the ground aud 
 colour. 
 
 Red and yellow suit not but with dark grounds. 
 
 All flowers and greens look well on a grey ground. 
 
 All weak flowers, as violet, light purple, blue, apple-blossom, and white, agree 
 with a warm ground. 
 
 Flowers have a particular decorum on a gold or silver ground ; and still greater 
 on copper or bronze, by reason of their darkish lustre; since the colour of gold is 
 too strong, and that of silver too pale. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 OF tItE DISPOSITION OF FLOWERS AND THEIR COLOURS IN FESTOONS^ 
 
 AND GROUPS. 
 
 Having hitherto treated of flowers in general, we shall now proceed to their dispo- 
 .sition in groups and festoons. 
 
 I shall compose each group of emblematic colours, as yellow, red, purple, violet, 
 blue, and white, which I consider as follows. 
 
 The first group yellow, having for its principal flower a turnsol, African or mari- 
 gold, anemone, &c. Which I style upper power, or eterpity. 
 
 The second red, as peonies, papaver, roses, &c. signifying power or might. 
 
 The third, purple flowers, roses, papavers, tulips, &c. implying nobility. 
 
 The fourth, violet, as fritillaria or fritillary, &c. signifying inconstancy. 
 
 The fifth, blue, as iris convolvolus or bind-weed, implying constancy. 
 
 The sixth, white, as the lily or white rose, &c. signifying purity. 
 
 It must be observed, that though in these groups the capital flowers be of a par- 
 
Of Flowers, 24 S' 
 
 titular colour, yet they will admit of other small ones about them of various colours 
 suiting therewith; as, 
 
 With the yellow, purple, violet, and blue. 
 
 Red, light-yellow, apple-blossom, dark blue, and white. 
 
 Purple, white, yellow, and light blue. 
 
 Violet, rose-colour, orange, light red, and ash-blue. 
 
 Blue, purple, orange, light yellow, and white. 
 
 Two capital colours, as deep yellow, vermillion or blue must never be placed by or 
 upon one another. 
 
 White suits any where, except on deep yellow, or deep red. 
 
 Dark green agrees with all light flowers. And, 
 
 Pal e green with dark flowers. 
 
 Under these groups there should always be either a motto or verse. 
 
 As for festoons they may be handled in the same manner, yet with less confinement : 
 if the emblematic colour have but the middle place, that is sufficient: the other parts 
 may be filled up w ith such colours as we please, provided they have somewhat less 
 brightness than the principal : for instance, let the middle flowers be large and high 
 coloured, as Africans or marigolds, yellow and red; on the right side may be purple, 
 as roses, anemones ; and on the left blue, as iris Jlos principius, hyacinths, &c. 
 The purpleside mixed with little white and less yellow : the blue side with yellow 
 and red : and the yellow in the middle, with violet dark blue, little purple and white. 
 
 In a second festoon, white may possess the middle place, as white roses, lilies, aiwl 
 others; on the right side may be yellow, and on the left pale red. The yellow may 
 be diversified with purple, violet, and dark blue ; the red with pale yellow, white, vio- 
 let, and dark blue ; and the white in themidde, with rose colour, violet, purple, and 
 beautiful red. 
 
 In the middle of a third festoon may be red, as papavers, anemones, &c. On 
 the right side, striped flowers of purple and yellow, violet, and pale yellow, di- 
 versified with dark blue and beautiful red ; but, oh the other side, all plain 
 flowers. 
 
 The white may be intermixed with flowers of any colour, except light yellow. 
 
 The intermixture consists of small flowers ; but the single coloured, whether in 
 the middle or largest, as also those on the sides require their particular small di- 
 versifying flowers, ^. e. the single coloured with speckled or striped, and the con- 
 trary. 
 
 If either group or festoon, full or close flowers should always be placed in the most 
 relieved paA*t, The open ones are mostly set on the sides in order to create shade. 
 For instance, let the middle part of a festoon have the largest, finest, and fullest 
 
246 
 
 Of Flowers. 
 
 flowers, such as red and white roses, papavers, &c. Between the middle and the ex- 
 tremities, a lesser sort, as tulips, anemones, narcissuses or daffodils, gillyflowers, 
 malva rosea, &c. Further towards the extremities, the more long and smaller ones, 
 as astragalus, ranunculus or crow-foot, convolvolus, flos principis, borage, barbatum 
 nigri, violets, &c. 
 
 On the relief of the festoon, between the largest and middle sort, may be a mixture 
 of the smallest flowers. If the middle flower be yellow, those further off ought to he 
 purple or red, and such as are to\vards the corners white and blue.; the longer the 
 weaker, that the strongest colour may keep the middle. But if white have the 
 middle place, the other partsunust not eclipse it with yellow and red. 
 
 A complete festoon must have an orderly disposition, not only with respect to the 
 (flowers themselves, whether large or small, but also in the placing of double and 
 single ones: as first, white roses and -centifolise, next single roses, and lastly, wild 
 blossoms. 
 
 As for the colours, there are single and half coloured flowers : the single coloured 
 are peonies, roses, &c.and the others striped or speckled with two or more colours; 
 as anemones with wdiite and red, striped roses, tulips, &c. Which ought to be so re- 
 gularly ordered, as to raise in the eye a balancing mixture, and to unite the strong 
 and weak, that the one do not project too much, and the other too little ; and that at 
 a distance, and at one view, the festoon may have its due sway. Yet if here or there 
 it be either too weak or too strong, you must recollect how it maybe helped. Where- 
 fore observe, that yellow and red are strong colours ; and <3ontrarily, blue and violet 
 weak. If too much yellow and red come together, place somewhat blue or violet 
 between; and if too much blue or violet, some yellow or red. 
 
 To begin a festoon well, you ought first to mark out its course as you will have it, 
 either thick or thin : next lay on the green with such leafing as you think proper, 
 but somewhatlarge, and with due light and shade, according to its light. Being dry 
 lay in the flowers, flat, first the principal, each in its place, with a single colour, red, 
 blue, or yellow, of such a tint as will best admit of painting upon it, the light and 
 shade after the life or models. The flowers between with their leafing are put in over 
 green, on finishing. The grounds, whether plain or in bass relief, or other orna- 
 ment, ought to be nearly finished with the first green, to save you the trouble after 
 of paring away something here and there. 
 
Of Flowers. 
 
 247 
 
 GHAP. VI. 
 
 CONTINUATION OF THE ORDERING AND PLACING THE FLOWERS: 
 
 Two observations of consequence in a festoon, group, or garland, still remains ; :to 
 wit, the ordering the flowers and their places of hanging. 
 
 It is easy to conceive, that many small things coming together, produce^ at a dis- 
 tance, only a confused mass, and littleaffect the senses, as having nothing in them to 
 make any impression, or as worth remark and though. each flower have its particu- 
 lar name, shape, and colour, yet they are only considered in general, under the 
 name of flowers ; because of their being placed either too high or too distant. 
 Such festoons or groups look well onpaper and in hand, or on tea-tables, toilets, and 
 the like, either in painting or needle-work. On the other hand, large flowers may 
 be seen distinctly at a distance, in their qualities, shapes, and beauties. Then each 
 flower obtains a name; this is a rose, that a poppy, &c. In a word, festoons, 'groups, 
 or garlands, placed high, or to be viewed at some distance, ought to be disposed in 
 great masses, and separate, with few speckled or striped flowers, either large or 
 small, as having no effect but when seen near. Therefore it is necessary to takej in 
 their steads, others of single colours, in order to set off* the work with more force and 
 distinction, and to give the eye satisfaction. For this reasouj when seen in hand, 
 they ought to unite and to look more separate and distinct. But I shall endeavour 
 to explain this by some examples ; chusing two groups — one agreeably uniting so as 
 to be viewed near, and the other separating so as to produce effect on being seen at 
 a distance: 
 
 In the. middle of the former is a white rose, and behind it a centifolia ; behind which 
 is a purple, and behind that a peony. Now these four colours differ but half a tint 
 from each other, composing together a half-ball gradually rounding. 
 
 The latter, contrarily, though having also a white flower in the middle, has behind 
 it a purple onej and behind that a dark violet, a colour darker than that of the peony 
 And these will create a greater force than the former, as starting more suddenly 
 from each other, and dissolving a whole tint, as the others did but a half one. 
 Whence it is evident, that the more distinct the tints are, the more lively and strong 
 they will appear. 
 
 For further satisfaction, I shall subjoin five other examples of festoons, as full 
 again as those of the preceding chapter, since they sometimes happen to be of dif- 
 ferent sizes, and tlierefore requiring more flowers. I divide them thus.: — 
 
243 
 
 Of Flowers, 
 
 The First* 
 
 In the middle yellow, next white, then purple or violet ; and lastly, yellow. The 
 other side the same. 
 
 The Second, 
 
 In the middle white, next yellow, further blue, and the last yellowish white. The 
 other side the same. 
 
 The Third. 
 
 In the middle red, next blue, then yellow, and lastly violet. The other side the 
 same. 
 
 The Fourth. 
 
 In the middle purple, next pale yellow, then blue, and lastly light red. The other 
 side the same. 
 
 The Fifth. 
 
 In the middle violet, next orange and other yellow, then blue, red, and violet. 
 The same on the other side. 
 
 The three last ought to be intermixed with white, and the two first with variety 
 of colours, as it best suits, in order to unite the parts with each other. 
 
 Three sorts of flowers are proper for intermixture, viz. yellow, red, and blue — all 
 in their greatest beauty. 
 
 If the work consist mostly of red and yellow, it ought to be intermixed with 
 blue; and if of blue, you must take yellow ; but if of all three, you are to use white, 
 so distributing it as to refresh the eye. 
 
 Now, for proof of what has been said, I shall shew here two methods of great 
 use to a flower-painter, though they may seen trifling. 
 
 Painting all sorts of flowers on cards or pasteboard, as rude as you please, even 
 but a single spot for each, and five or six of each colour, or as many as there ai^ 
 tints, red, blue, purple, yellow, violet. Let these be capital flowers. Next, make 
 smaller ones for intermixture, of red, blue, yellow, and white, as beautiful as pos- 
 sible. Cut all these asunder, and lay each colour orderly by itself in a little box. 
 Then paint up a green festoon or group on pasteboard, and thereon place such 
 flowers as you please, shifting and changing them according to your design.^ And 
 thus you will perceive the truth of what has been before spoken. 
 
249 
 
 Of Flowers. 
 
 The other method is this. Take a parcel of flowers of all sorts, made of paper or 
 silk, and with wired stalks, as they are sold by the tire-women. Now, if you would 
 make a group, festoon, or basket of flowers, or any such thing, order and shift 
 those flowers by and upon one another, as they suit best; and thus you may ex- 
 ercise yourself in winter time, when you cannot have the life ; because those flow- 
 ers never wither. Green festoons may also be furnished after the same manner, and 
 flowers hung on them according to your desire. 
 
 END OP BOOK XU. 
 
 2 K 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
THE 
 
 ART OF PAIOTIHG. 
 
 BOOK XIIL 
 
 OF ENGRAVING, 
 
 Since neither Caesar Ripa nor any other author gives us the figure of the art of 
 engraving, with its signification, I shall here make it preliminary ; and, in the sequel, 
 shew what respect is due to this art by its reflections and even relating properties 
 with that of painting. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 This beautful virgin, sitting at a table, had before her a copper-plate lying on a sand 
 bag, and near it stands a little monkey, placing a lighted lamp before her. She is 
 attended by Prudence and Diligence ; and Practice is setting the tools on an oil- 
 stone. Her chair is of ebony, adorned with figures of Sincerity and Assiduity, 
 wrought in ivory, and mutually embracing ; behind which stands Judgment, shew- 
 ing her a little further Painting, accompanied by Apollo and THana. He holding 
 up his torch in order to enlighten Sculpture, and she her’s, reversed, with purpose 
 to extinguish it. The genii, in the mean time, are every where busy in providing 
 necessary materials. The eldest offers her a drawing either redded or whitened on 
 the back, and a point or needle for tracing it on the plate. This drawing represents 
 the design she is going about. Others in an inner apartment are employed in heat- 
 ing a plate on a chafing dish, and laying the ground even with a feather. Here one 
 is etching, there another biting a plate; others taking and viewing proofs with great 
 attention and pleasure, &c. while Fame, having a proof of a j)ortrait in her hand, 
 with her trumpet sounds out at window the praises of masters or engravers. Ho- 
 nour, crowned with laurel, and bearing a small pyramid, is entering the room, ushei- 
 
Of Engravings 251 
 
 ing in -Annma, or Prosperity, who has a cornucopise, or horn, filled M’iflv fruit's. 
 Round the room are set on pedestals divers busts of famous etchers and engravers ; 
 as Mark Antony, Audran, Edelinck, Vander, Moulon, and several other Italian 
 and French, as well as Dutch and German masters. In the otfscape, Europe, Asia, 
 and Africa appear standing in surprise at the sound of the trumpet. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 OF THE ART OF ENGRAVING IN GENERAL. 
 
 That I may treat of this art in a methodical manner, I think proper to observe 
 first, in what its excellence consists ; next, its performance; and lastly, the qualifi- 
 cations of an etcher and an engraver. 
 
 The art of engraving is highly praise-worthy, because it refers to painting, as 
 painting does to nature ; for, as the latter has nature for its model or object, which 
 it faithfully imitates with the pencil ; so engraving also copies painting, either with 
 the needle or graver, in such manner as only to stand in need of colours. Painting 
 consists in a fine correct outline, proportion, light and shade : and these are also the 
 foundations of engraving. Painting distinguishes between common light and sun- 
 shine : engraving does, or can do the same. In fine, whatever one performs with 
 the pencil, the other can in a great degree express with the needle or graver, whether 
 stuffs of different kinds, wool, silk, satin, linen, glass, water, gold, wood, stone, &c. 
 
 Its performances are to the sight, what fame is to the ear. Painting has but one 
 result, but engraving hundreds. Fame can tell the many wonders of painting in 
 its absence; but engraving makes itself everywhere present; flying over the uni- 
 verse, as well as the sounding trumpet of fame. It keeps an eternal register of 
 every thing that is praise-worthy : and as to the entire welfare, even happiness or 
 unhappiness of a good painter, depends on the certainty or uncertainty of the en- 
 graver, as I shall shew in my remarks on prints after paintings or designs ; so the 
 latter ought to disengage himself from prejudice and inclination to this or that par- 
 ticular manner, and exert his skill in an axact imitation of what he is to engrave or 
 etch after any manner or any master, be it flat or rising, dark or light, without ad- 
 dition or diminution, except with the licence of the painter or designer. His work 
 must be like a clear looking-glass, which exhibits all objects true and without de- 
 viation. As to the manual operation, fine penciling is a great step to grace ; and, in 
 order to obtain it, the knowledge of three things is absolutely necessary ; which are, 
 the art of drawing, perspective, and the doctrine of light and shade : these, as 
 
 2 K 2 
 
252 
 
 Of Engraving. 
 
 principals, compose the theory of the whole. He ought also to be very diligent in 
 hatching with the pen or red chalk, in order thereby to get a firmness of touch ; and 
 it behoves him, as well as the painter, to draw after the naked life and the dressed 
 laymen. He should likewise be furnished with prints, both engraved and etched, 
 of the most famous masters. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 OF THE GENERAL ELEGANCE REQUISITE IN A GOOD PRINT; AND OF 
 THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BOOK AND OTHER PRINTS. 
 
 The grace of a well-etched or engraved print consists, first, in a bright light and 
 dark shade; by which I understand that the faint hatching on the lighted parts be 
 kept almost imperceptible, and the shady touches contrarily strong and dark. Se- 
 condly, that the naked, or carnations, be hatched fine and somewhat dull, and the 
 draperies courser or rougher, according to their qualities ; yet all without any out- 
 line, either on the light or shaded side, even so that the extremities be only form- 
 ed by the tint of the grounds against which they come. But to give the work the 
 greatest perfection, and shew the judgment of the master, the tints of the colours 
 should also appear as much as possible ; yet as a print does not so entirely con- 
 sist of fine composition, beautiful figures, elegant by-works, and neatly cut or 
 etched strokes, as in a good general harmony, so this harmony ought to be prin- 
 cipally studied. 
 
 The engraver^ will be commendable sometimes to express in his work the colours, 
 if the matter require it ; such as the white and black in the day and night, good and 
 bad angels or spirits, &c. These two observations are absolutely necessary in a 
 book-print: the others before-mentioned are only requisite in such as represent a 
 complete picture; for there is a great difference between book and other prints : the 
 former express the matter which is represented, even were it designed in white mar- 
 ble, bass-relief, nay, in snow or sand ; and the latter consider only the master who 
 painted it, and his art, together with that of the engraver and his capacity. For this 
 reason book-prints stand in need of explanation, but other prints not ; for the colour 
 is in the one, what the writing is in the other. 
 
 * The practices of engraving, with a view to represent the tones of colours, have, 
 within these Jew years, been carried so much beyond what teas done formerly, that these 
 observations may appear almost obsolete. — E. 
 
Of Engraving, 
 
 253 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 OF THE DIFFERENCE OF ENGRAVING AND ETCHING. 
 
 According to the general opinion, and not without reason, etching is accounted 
 more loose and painter-like than engraving, because there is no difference between 
 etching and drawing, as to the execution ; but the difference between drawing and 
 engraving is very great. The management of the needle is almost the same with 
 that of chalk or the pen : the plate lies flat and firm like the paper to draw upon. 
 But we find the contrary in engraving ; wherein the engraver is held almost parallel 
 with the plate, and the latter is moveable on a cushion or sand-bag. And as to force 
 there is also less occasion for it in etching than engraving. 
 
 Now to prove that etching must be more painter-like than engraving, let us only 
 make our remarks on both in the course of their business, each having a design be- 
 fore him ; and then we shall find the reason to be, that in the one both the drawing 
 and plate are fixed before the artist, and he only moves his hand ; whereas the other 
 cannot go forward without stirring, the plate being continually turning, and both 
 the hand and arm employed in directing the graver; by which means engravers are 
 often hindered from perceiving the difference between their work and the pattern, 
 before a part, nay the whole, be finished. Wherefore, in my opinion, etching is su- 
 perior to engraving in exactness and speed. I say speed, because three or more 
 plates may be etched before one can be engraved. Etching is also most painter-like, 
 because of its near affinity to drawing, as we daily experiment ; for where one paint- 
 er or designer engraves for his pleasure, a hundred take to etching, and make good 
 progress therein ; because of the slow advances in engraving compared to etching, 
 whether in figures or buildings, but especially landscapes. And since painters or 
 designers care not to have their designs censured and corrected by others, they 
 choose rather to etch them themselves than to set about engraving ; an art not to be 
 mastered without much expense of time, in getting knowledge how to handle the 
 tool, whereby it would become rather labour than diversion. 
 
 Many engravers etch for pleasure, because of its easiness ; but seldom any etcher 
 handles the graver, unless in case of necessity. To this, perhaps, it may be ob- 
 jected, that as each painter or designer has a particular choice wherein he labours 
 most, as one in the ordonnance, another in the nicety of draught, and a third in the 
 neat finishing of some particular things, therefore the title of designer-like in etch- 
 ing is not absolutely due to painters or designers. To which I answer, that un- 
 
254 
 
 Of J^ngraving, 
 
 doubtedly the word must not be understood to relate to modern designers, because 
 it was in use before etching was brought to its present perfection ; as appears by 
 Caracci, Titian, Antonio Tempesta, Sfc. who excelled in design, and used the needle 
 with no other view than to give the world the designs, which they counted capital 
 and most praise-worthy, for the encouragement and consideration of the less know- 
 ing. Whence we plainly perceive, that their intention was only to put forth their 
 own performances in such a manner as safely to be relied on ; accordingly, we scarce 
 see any more in them than an outline : but this is so firm and correct, that however 
 slightly the other parts n^ay be scratched, these works of their own hands are more 
 valued than those of the best and most famous engravers or etchers. 
 
 We have example in the print of the woman by the well, etched by Caracci him- 
 self, how much it difters from that done by Le Potre, and another by Bishop, 
 
 What a vast difference is there between Perrier and Bishop's, works, as to the 
 painter-like looseness of handling : and in landscapes, between Titians and Perelle's, 
 I could, if need required, produce more proofs of the antiquity of the word painter- 
 like ; but shall wave them, and acquaint the reader how oddly I took to etching, and 
 how strangely I drudged before I could succeed. 
 
 Having in my youth an inclination for etching, but no knowledge of what was 
 good or bad, as seeing no other example than the old and poorly engraved prints of 
 Raphael, Michael Angelo, Paul Veronese, Tintoret, ^ which yet were excellent 
 for their fine outline, and few etched ones, my slender attempts may be easily guessed 
 at. Indeed I cannot but still think of it with wonder ^ for I began not with copper 
 or steel, but a piece of pewter and a nail about a finger’s breadth, which, with great 
 pains, I ground to a point after my own way : first I tried only single strokes, and 
 then cross-hatching, which looked strange enough ; and instead of a rolling-press, 
 I rubbed the back of my proofs with the nail. This, however, did not abate my 
 curiosity, which daily increased, though my work appeared so black as to be scarce 
 intelligible. My father seeing this, could not forbear laughing; and for humour 
 sake gave two or three of my proofs to Bartholet^ and he again to Natalis the fa- 
 mous engraver, who bestowed on me some little instruction and a small copper- 
 plate to try on. But what drudgery had I undergone before I scratched this beau- 
 tiful plate ! Basse's Book on Etching happening to be published at that time, I left 
 off plaguing myself, and cheerfully set about splitting of wood, providing needles, 
 boiling grounds, cleaning plates, buying aquae-fortis, wax, &c. When before I knew 
 of no better ground than thick and foul oil, boiled to a blackness, which gave me 
 HO little trouble to get off the plate again after it was bit; and which, therefore, I 
 was obliged to put into the fire till it was soft as lead. Things so far succeeding to 
 my wish, I happened to see some prints of Vovet from France, which spurred my 
 
Of Engra'vmg, 255 
 
 curiosity; andl sTiould certainly hare made early and good progress, liad not my 
 father been fearful I might fix my thoughts on this study to the neglect of painting. 
 Wherefore he dissuaded me from it, saying, it was too soon to enter on so difficult a 
 pastime, and instructing me in other things as delightful as advantageous. Marrying 
 some years after, I went to Holland, where I re-assumed this noble art with great 
 pleasure, and which I do not repent of; though some think it the cause of my mis- 
 ibrtune. The truth of this God knows : yet had I saved candle, and used more 
 day-light for it, perhaps ray old age might have proved more comfortable to me ; but, 
 alas 1 those two noble sisters, painting and etching, are now vanished with my 
 sight. 
 
 Let the reader judge, whether he ever heard of a stranger way of etching. How- 
 ever, I mention it here to shew, that a diligent man, getting better instruction, may 
 in time gain his point. It is certain, that few young men Avould have had patience 
 enough to drudge as I did without instruction ; but that an industrious tyro, after 
 leaving his master, may possibly improve throngh diligence and study is very na- 
 tural ; even so as to excel him in neatness, smoothness, and expedition, as well in 
 etching as engraving — I mean in the use of the graver and needle, but not in know- 
 ledge. By knowledge, I understand keeping the likeness of a beautiful face, hands, 
 and feet, according to what we say in the second chapter, that the knowledge consists 
 in a correct outline, proportion, light, and shade, and perspective: for we com- 
 monly see the greatest faults committed in the aforesaid parts for want of know- 
 ledge, and not inuring themselves to draw by hand large things after small, and the 
 contrary, but accustoming themselves to squaring; a practice not difficult to a 
 swineherd’s boy, if he understood the division of squares and management of chalk. 
 But they may yet be erroneous in tracing their object on the plate, though drawn 
 upon squares; for missing the outline in the least, either inwardly or outwardly, it 
 presently becomes too little or too big : but the tyro cannot see this for want of due 
 knowledge ; and though he may be sensible, that here or there he has a little missed 
 the outline, yet he passes it over as a matter of no great moment ; and if he propose 
 to help it in etching or engraving, he may possibly forget it before he come so far in 
 the work : he commonly thinks nO further than what is already on the plate. Whence 
 we may easily conclude, that he who knows what constitutes beauty, can be as little 
 sensible that a small difference in a face, arm, or hand, is of any great consequence. 
 Another difficulty, no less than the former, is, that though the tyro have the out- 
 line correctly drawn on the plate, yet he may run over it when he comes to shade or 
 hatch. And as this frequently happens, I shall here give the reason of it. 
 
 In either engraving or etching anything, the distances, whether buildings, land- 
 scape, or even grounds, ought always to be begun first, that by reserving the princi- 
 
256 
 
 Of Engraving. 
 
 pal things for the iast» the hand may be prepared to treat them with more boldness 
 Now the tyro being to engrave or etch a ground behind his figure, be it naked or 
 dressed, he will not only (especially in engraving) end his hatching against the out- 
 line, but sometimes exceed it; whereby the parts, whether arm, leg, or hand, must 
 needs lose their true proportion and quality : and thus the almost imperceptible and 
 tender rising muscles, folds, and hollows are made even, and consequently stilT and 
 formal. Nevertheless the work goes on ; and, when they come to see the mistake, 
 they scrape, burnish, and rub, to bring it right again; which I grant is well enough 
 incase of need. But, alas! how seldom is it practised? If it be something of no 
 great consequence, it remains as it was without further inspection. This 1 know not 
 by hearsay, but experience. Wherefore they who have an inclination for engraving, 
 should apply to a painter for instruction in beautiful proportion, and in drawing every 
 thing by hand, whether prints, drawings, paintings, plaister-figures, even the life it- 
 self. For painters first teach the theory, or know'ledge of proportion, and then the 
 practice of colouring; whereas many engravers begin with the practice or executive 
 part. 
 
 As for the scraping, burning, and rubbing out, before-mentioned, it is a point which 
 ought to be well understood, because it affects not either the too great darkness or 
 hardness of the hatching, but the outline; as I shall shew by the example of 
 the faces in Plate LXIX. 
 
 In the face A, the hatched ground runs over the outline of the cheek ; whereby 
 it appears more sunk in, as in that of B, and thus the outline is lost. Now this 
 face being to be finished, and the cheek brought right again, so much must be scrap- 
 ed off within the line as to give the cheek the former swell : and if the face be a 
 fourth part less, the difference will be so much the greater, especially in a portrait,, 
 and greater still if it be in profile 5 as face C shews, wherein we see how little so- 
 ever be taken off with the ground from the tip of the nose, mouth, and chin, it will 
 produce another aspect: whence it is evident, what a vast alteration this must cause 
 in the likeness. 
 
 In this art as well as painting, it is a constant rule to begin with the back-ground, 
 and engravers and etchers do it for the same reason as painters : for, when the princi- 
 pal figures are finished, the whole piece is reckoned as good as done : the general 
 re-touching is only to bring harmony or keeping into the work ; here somewhat more 
 strength, there more faintness, &c. But what we now speak of, to wit, scraping, 
 concerns engraving only; whereas in etching, nothing is done but stopping, unless 
 things are already bit. 
 
 If it be asked, whether what is stopped up can be repaired before it is bit ; as in - 
 A, when the hatching, which takes away the sw'ell from the cheeks, is stopped up 
 
Of Engravmg. 3^57 
 
 with stop-ground^ whether then the former roundness cannot be fetched out with a 
 fine needle on the same ground, that all may bite together ? 1 answer, that this will 
 make bad work : but if something be wanting, it must be touched up with a graver. 
 However, I shall shew another method : make a burnisher pretty hot, and rub it 
 gently and speedily over the part you would have out, and then it will close up the 
 hatching, so that you need neither stop up nor bite. Now etch thereon what is neces- 
 sary, und thus all may be bit at once. These observations, especially that of not 
 carelessly spoiling the outline, as in the examples A and C, are very needful. 
 
 Let any person now consider, how little a fine composition of a famous master, 
 w^hen put out of hand in such a condition, can be like the original. And yet this is 
 too often the case. However, I assert, that without the former knowledge it is im- 
 possible to become a good master. For he who makes a blundering design, and per- 
 ceives not the mistakes to be apparent and convincing, cannot possibly mend them. 
 Even great masters sometimes blunder; as we see in Audrmis battles of Alexander^ 
 after l*e Brun^ what poor hands and fingers he has made in some places, as thin as 
 pencil-sticks ; especially those which are wide open, as the captive Porus, and in 
 Darius. I cannot too much wonder, that in so glorious a work, Audran did not cor- 
 rect such mistakes, since he was one of the best engravers ever known. This indeed 
 is but a small matter with respect to so great a work ; nevertheless it makes the same 
 imperfect, and becomes a charge upon Le Brun. But this work had less justice 
 done it here in Holland in the copies of Schooneheek, who seems to have used his 
 utmost endeavours to spoil it : for there is neither design nor keeping observed. All 
 the postures, which in the originals are fine and beautiful, he has turned into gri- 
 mace ; every thing is lame and crippled. 
 
 ^ CHAP. V. 
 
 REMARKS ON HATCHING. 
 
 The course of hatching yields great pleasure to the eye ; because it makes every 
 thing appear in its nature and quality, whether wood, silk, steel, water, silver, stone, 
 sand, &c. each of which, in engraving and etching, require a particular expression : 
 yet in etching it is more expeditious, especially if you can somewhat handle the 
 graver. The French artist Audran excelled herein. The St. Bruno of Bartholetj 
 engraved by Natalis, is admirable for the naturalness, which, by particular hatchings 
 and the utmost neatness, appears therein. 
 
 Now, when a great artist has shewn his utmost skill in a plate, and all things are 
 worked according to rule, yet we find it almost impossible to make people sensible 
 VOL. II. 2 L 
 
258 
 
 Of Engraving. 
 
 what true art is, and wherein the knowledge of a good print lies ; most men, now-a- 
 days, being taken with fine strokes, without regard to ill order or bad design. A 
 sad reflection for those who know better ! 
 
 Again, an engraver or etcher is not so happy as a painter or designer ; for these 
 last compose what they please, or at least what they can, and the engravers must 
 follow them, be they ever so indifferent. Yet this were no great matter, if they might 
 but etch and engrave wdth as much freedom as painters use with their pencils or 
 crayons ; this would spirit them to produce finer things, as other ingenious men have 
 formerly done, who had their liberty, and did not tie themselves up to any person, 
 as many now-a-days are obliged to do. How seldom have they an opportunity to 
 work after a fine picture or finished drawing? This has often induced me to think, 
 that many a good master understands more than his w’orks shew: happy are they, 
 whose circumstan<?es will permit them to execute even but a single plate, according 
 to their skill and pleasure. But, alas ! the times will not allow it in these our free 
 and noted countries. Moreover, we see many artists sigh and groan under the dif- 
 ficulties laid on them by some painters and designers, in sometimes sending them 
 such rude drawings, that the round can hardly be distinguished from the square: 
 the sharp from the blunt 5 or wood from stone ^ even such as they themselves could 
 not understand, were they to receive them from others. If the engraver happens 
 to hit the design, the master claims honour 5 but on failure, the engraver is sure 
 to bear the scandal : for this reason, it were to be wished, that engravers would, 
 before they begin a plate, after such a drawing or sketch, consult the painter or de- 
 signer, for a solution of all their doubts, and that they might proceed with certainty. 
 
 I also think it not only useful but necessary, that the designer be particular in his 
 expression of all the materials: for instance, that the basement-story of a building 
 shew to be of rough stones, the columns and pilasters with the imagery and orna- 
 ments of marble, &c. that the engraver may exhibit the former rough by broken 
 strokes, and what is smooth and polished by neat and more curious ones, with the 
 graver ; etching the by-works somewhat coarser again ; the wood work with long 
 and broken strokes, humouring the grain; the trees, according to the course 
 of the boughs, and sway of the leafing ; the grounds and serpentine, also broken. 
 These observations ought to be heeded in general, as well as in the particu- 
 lars, together with the diminution of the distance; yet not in the manner of 
 some, by wide strokes, but by closing and making them fine. On this footing 
 there would be less complaint of the designers, and these not think themselves in- 
 jured on seeing their designs so ill followed. Things thus worked according to rule, 
 would certainly prove fine, and the more, in a work of consequence, and bearing a 
 price : though to one who understands his business, this management is no more 
 I’ouble than the contrary. 
 
 k 
 
259 
 
 Of Engraving. 
 
 I have seen drawings of GoUzius^ wherein he had plainly expressed all the par- 
 ticular objects. The tenderer smooth bodies were well washed, all neatly scum- 
 bled with red or black chalk. What was rough or coarse he had handled boldly 
 with the pen or black chalk : by which means, the one appeared darker, and the 
 other lighter in the shade, as if it were a picture. But it is no wonder, that we see 
 not such things done now-a-days ; for Goltzius used to make his own patterns : and 
 as a good painter considers what ought to be stone, wood, flesh, white or black, 
 before he colours, so Goltzius did the same, when he was to engrave any thing. 
 He would express every thing in his patterns, though he was ever so certain of his 
 art, in order to do his whole work after a slight sketch, and that nothing might 
 escape him ; on a belief, that we ought not to trust to our memories in a matter of 
 consecjuence i wherefore I shall illustrate this point by an example in Plate 
 wherein I introduce several different bodies i for, besides the coriectness of draught, 
 
 I have also expressed their different colours. The wall. A, is rough stone ; the 
 child, B, tenderly shaded; the vessel, C, of bright copper; the vase, D, white 
 polished marble ; the pedestal, or foot, E, of free-stone ; the wooden pale, F, (where- 
 on hangs a cloth) veiny ; and the sky and ofJ-scape, G, as it goes off*, the fainter 
 and finer : by this method of expression I have still another advantage ; which 
 is, that if by any accident I should leave my plate half done, another hand, by 
 this means, may understand my meaning, and finish it. Hereby, even a painter 
 may direct another ; who, else, would rather choose to have the works he might 
 leave behind him unfinished, rubbed out, than that another, who did not rightly 
 know his mind, should finish them. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 CURIOUS REMARKS CONCERNING STIPPLING. 
 
 IVIany imagine, they can represent the roundness against the main lights, by stip- 
 pling ; but they will find themselves mistaken, since it causes a great meagreness ; 
 and therefore the method cannot be good: hatching looks better, and has more 
 affinity with the shades. Stippling is sometimes useful in case of need, when we 
 care not to cross-hatch on the light; and also, when the shades are hatched too 
 wide, in order to express the reflections somewhat the plainer, instead of crossing 
 them over again, especially against the light: though it is better to go them over 
 again with a fine single stroke : and if you find this will not do, then you may, 
 with a finer needle, continue the same hatching somewhat farther : but a better me- 
 thod w oiild be, to lay it at once as far as it ought to be, and then somewhat to stop 
 
 2 L 2 
 
260 
 
 Of Engraving. 
 
 up the ends or extremities : he who neglects this, is obliged to make shift with stip- 
 pling ; yet that must not be too close. The best way is, first, with a fine needle to 
 continue the hatching a little further, and then, with a finer, to extend it till it come 
 to nothing; which we call broken hatching, as was old Visschers way in his boors 
 after Ostade, whereby he prettily expressed the colour of a face, and fetched out 
 the main light touches. Stippling is very helpful, and also expeditious to one who 
 has got the firmness of the needle. If you would make it your practice, you need 
 not stop to soften the hatching ; for the points thus lengthened answer the same 
 purpose ; and then you can proceed with certainty, especially if you use the same 
 needle with which the hatching is continued in the light, round the relief: the 
 shades, again, ought to be softened with the same needle that made them ; 
 then the stippling of the large needle in the shade will not be too visible : yet, 
 would you work the last stippling in the light, with a smaller needle, you may * 
 but because the shade ends more suddenly than in the relief in the light, I should 
 use no others ; for the stippling is a nice point to him who will be curious. The 
 dots ought also to be equal ; I say, equally distant, and not to come between the ex- 
 tremities of the strokes. If it be asked, whether any thing iiatched too wide can 
 be darkened with stippling, instead of a third stroke? my opinion is, that it may; 
 and that any thing can be performed in this manner: but the work is more te- 
 dious. Things so touched up look very neat; for by strong strokes, fainter ones, 
 more faint and points, we can very commodiously darken an object more or less at 
 pleasure. Boulanger has, in my opinion, over-stippled his prints ; which makes 
 them look rather like miniature, than any thing else; wherefore I cannot much com- 
 mend stippling ; and why ? Because of the inequality and meagreness of the points 
 or dots, occasioned by touching one harder than another ; whereby, in biting, one 
 penetrates the copper more than another, be the dot ever so small : add to this, 
 the impossibility of making the dots perfectly round : they will always be more 
 or less elongated, as may be easily proved by a magnifying glass. 
 
 I have seen, in engraved prints of Goltziiis, the faint tint upon the relief cross- 
 hatched, as well as in the shade ; but this is only proper for engraving, especially 
 in high finishing ; because in etching, the cross hatching expresses a coming shade ; 
 and then it may be very well effected by stippling, as broad-lighted objects want 
 not so much darkness in the light. 
 
 Now, if any thing should happen to be amiss, and you would beat it out and 
 mend it, take a proof and fasten it neatly behind your plate, and then beat out 
 what you would have away : this may be done even to a hair ; and if you care not 
 to strike on the paper, you may mark the place with a sharp point on the copper, 
 so as to see it; which will do as well, though the spoiling a proof is but a trifle : 
 yet the proof, when once dry, is no more fit for this use ; wherefore the work must 
 
26l 
 
 Of Engraving, 
 
 be done as soon as the proof comes from the press ; for, being wetted again, it 
 will always be uncertain, and unlike the plate. In order to find these little, places 
 or misbitten spots with still greater ease, (a method which many engravers make a 
 secret of) take a fine thread or string, and put it cross-wise about the plate, tying 
 it on the edges, so that the centre of the cross come exactly upon the misbitten spot 
 or place : then laying the plate with the back upwards, on a smooth and hard stone, 
 beat the place gently with a pointed hammer; and then, with some stuff taken from 
 the oil-stone rub it out : thus you may find all the places, how small soever, even 
 to a hair, on the back of the plate. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 OF ETCHING BASS-RELIEFS. 
 
 As we have asserted that each object requires almost a particular handling, so I 
 think bass-reliefs call for it : for many who can etch well after a fine picture or 
 drawing, are at a loss when they come to imitate and represent a bass-relief; they 
 lay the strokes therein as in other objects ; though, in my opinion, the difference 
 be very great; especially if we would not handle them in the manner of Perrier 
 and Pietro Santi, but according to rule ; though the former understood it the best 
 of the two, since his works better preserve the stoniness and design ; and yet he 
 has added some things of his own : but the other has done it to such excess, as 
 thereby to render his works obscure : his folds indeed are fine, yet superfluous and 
 improper for stone, and more like gold, silver, or bronze ; appearing better in a print 
 than in stone. In my opinion Santi understood not the naked proportion, muscling, 
 or motion; wherefore I cannot by any means allow him the preference : the truth 
 is, they are good for a drawing; but were they to be compared with the life, we 
 should discover a great difference. In the next place, it is absurd to imagine, that 
 so many bass-reliefs as are found at Rome and in other places, both under cover 
 and exposed, in and upon the triumphal arches, friezes, niches, pediments, pedestals, 
 ancient walls, tombs, columns, and vases, from whence these two artists made their 
 collections, should all stand in so precise a light, right and left, as they represent 
 them in. Certainly, some of them must have been lighted from above, from belowg 
 fronting, even from all sides ; and I cannot think they drew them by candle-light, 
 
 but rather shaded them as they thought fit. 
 
 I was once asked whether, since the bass-reliefs stand in many different places, 
 moulds or models have not sometimes been taken from them by one or other, from 
 which they shadowed their drawings, disposing these models as usual, in the left 
 
262 
 
 Of E ng raving. 
 
 or right light, as they thought proper ; which is not improbable. We might like- 
 wise light some from above, others from below, from a side, fronting and from be- 
 hind, ill order to use them on any occasion ; which would be a great help to those 
 who know little or nothing of modelling. 
 
 We have said, that we think the bass-reliefs of Perrier better in design than 
 those of Pietro Santi, but much inferior in finishing ; though the works of the 
 latter, for the reason before assigned, have no affinity with the stoniness ? and yet 
 some think, that were the figures three or four feet high, they would have another 
 look ; for then the parts would appear more grand ; and those of Verrier, on the 
 other hand, too slim and dull; which I do not disown: nevertheless, it must be 
 agreed, that this observation is good, in order to shew the difference between carving 
 m stone, and chasing in gold or silver: but it is likewise true, that had Verrier finish- 
 ed his drawings as well as Santi, they would have been much finer and more useful ; 
 for it is easier to leave out superfluities than make additions. It is not improbable, 
 that 5 intention, by his method of management, was, that he might be of greater 
 service to painters, statuaries, and chasers, than Verrier. 
 
 We have affirmed, that Vietro Santi has possibly added much of his own. Now, 
 it is also not unlikely, that Verrier drew his objects from agreater distance than Santi, 
 whereby he could not see all the minute parts; and I cannot but at the same time 
 think, that Santi designed most of his bass-reliefs after undamaged within-door 
 work, in halls, chambers, and other inclosed places ; whereas Verrier possibly took 
 his from without-door work, such as pediments, frontispieces, friezes, and the like, 
 half eaten up by the weather. We might still subjoin, that Verrier worked only to 
 shew the world that such excellent things were at Rome, and at the same time to 
 display his light and firm manner of drawing: whereas Santi had not only a view to 
 profit, but also to be generally useful to curious artists and others. How true this 
 is let the virtuosi determine. 
 
 As to the right handling of bass-reliefs, I think it absolutely necessary, that every 
 thing be etched equally coarse or fine with one and the same needle, without any dif- 
 ference with respect to stuffs ; as being the best method for representing the stone- 
 work well ; unless it were but a grey one with a fore-ground and distance, when the 
 strokes ought to diminish and grow' faint, according to perspective. 
 
 There is likewise little observation made about the lights of bass-reliefs ; for often- 
 times, things painted sharp in sun-shine, are exhibited in the plate with a common 
 light, tlirough the rouudness of the shades; and sometimes we see the contrary: 
 but the.Ne are liberties which neither etchers nor engravers ought to take. He 
 whose pro\iiice it is to imitate, let him exactly follow the beaten path. In relation 
 to etching bass-reliefs, a sharp light or sun-shine is very improper, and renders them 
 disagreeable. But as for embellishments in sun-shine, the matter is of less moment. 
 
Of Engraving. 
 
 26*3 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 OF ENGRAVING AND THE MANAGEMENT OF THE STROKES. 
 
 It is to be wondered, that among the many arts and mannal operations, engraving is 
 so little, and etching so much treated of : the reason whereof is past my apprehension. 
 Many painters and lovers, for the encouragement of those who would make it their 
 business, or to shew their skill, have earnestly strove to say something of it: but no 
 engraver has, to my knowledge, undertaken the task ; possibly, as not thinking 
 themselves sufficient for it; or else, because they would keep it as a secret from 
 each other. But the most probable reason, as I think, is, the late appearance of this 
 art; which is evident, since the Romans till their latter times knew nothing of it. 
 
 It is certain, that engraving, as well as painting, is founded as much on theory 
 as practice, and that both depend on established and positive rules, which, if orderly 
 followed, will make a man a master : why then, are they not made public, for the in- 
 formation of the curious in what they want to know ? Must not he, who intends to 
 go to a town or village, be first told where it lies, and then the ways to it, chusing 
 the nearest as best ? 
 
 It is not strange that more engravers have applied to painting, than painters 
 to engraving; because the latter have so many excellent books for their encou- 
 ragement, published by judicious masters; whereas, engravers have not one con- 
 cerning their practice. But as every thing has its time, so we must hope for it 
 in this. 
 
 Nam mora dat vires, teneras mora concoquit uvas^ 
 
 Et validas fegetes, quod fait herbafacit. 
 
 Or, 
 
 Perfecting time brings on the tender grape, 
 
 And gives the herby corn its ripening shape. 
 
 In the mean time I shall boldly enter the lists, and, accordingto my small ability, 
 impart what I know of it; but the practice or management I shall not touch upon, 
 as not having skill therein : what, however, I mention of it, as unavoidably neces- 
 sary to what I purpose to say, I submit to those of better knowledge ; hoping my en- 
 deavours will not be taxed with presumption, since my only aim is, thereby to rouse 
 others, and, by my small spark, to kindle a greater lire; according to the Latin pro- 
 verb : Tarva Scepe scintilla magnum excitavit incendium. 
 
264 
 
 Of Eitgraving. 
 
 We have before-mentioned, First, on what basis engraving is founded. Secondly, 
 a good engraver’s qualifications ; Lastly, what constitutes an agreeable print : where- 
 fore, we shall now discuss the management of the strokes in objects, according to 
 their natures and courses, with respect to perspective ; and as well in etching as en- 
 graving ; together with some examples for illustrating the point, and preventing and 
 correcting mistakes. 
 
 In Plate LXXI. is a wheel marked A, having eight spokes, or points; as also a 
 stafl', set upright in the ground, crossed by the horizon. This wheel shews, the 
 strokes must be governed by the extremity of each spoke, as may be here seen. 
 The foremost runs circular ; the third, almost straight, &c. Compare also the fore- 
 most spoke one, with the hinder one five, how much they differ in force : for one ap- 
 proaches, and five retire: which cannot be otherwise according to perspective. 
 Again, the strokes drawm with a ruler, and running off towards the point of sight, 
 grow gradually finer and fainter. Now though the short or cross hatching ought, 
 by established rule, to be more visible and strong than the long, yet few are observed 
 to make any distinction therein. 
 
 We have said before, that each object, whether flesh, stone, grounds, &c. requires 
 a particular stroke ; and, among others, that wood especially must be thick-stroked 
 along the grain, and consequently cross-hatched with a finer stroke ; but now we 
 shew the contrary ; for the cross ones are stronger than those running with the grain, 
 which here cannot be otherwise. If some say that I contradict myself, in making 
 the cross-strokes thus against the grain, I shall, for their satisfaction, shew my rea- 
 son for it. Observe, then, that any thing turned, has no other grain than what the 
 chissel makes ; and as the turner works against the grain, and the wood retains more 
 or less marks of the tool, it must be expressed accordingly in engraving. But a 
 second question may be, whether it would not do as well, if both the hatchings were 
 equally fine or coarse? I answer, it would, as to the shade; but not with respect 
 to the stuff: for it would be more proper to stone, copper, wax, and such like: 
 nevertheless these observations are generally little heeded, though also founded on 
 certain rules of this art. 
 
 As for the staff, it shews, that the strokes, beginning round from below, grow 
 straighter as they approach the horizon ; and above the horizon, the same, but in a 
 reversed manner. 
 
 Now let us consider the other example, in Plate LXXI. wherein the retiring pa- 
 rapets shew the diminution or faintness of the strokes, not only in such, but in any 
 other objects, according to their distance in going off ; the one in a greater, the other 
 in a less degree. Hereby we may plainly discover the perverse notion of some men ; 
 namely, that diminution implies growing scanty or wider. See A, with a single 
 
Of Engraving. 26:> 
 
 stroke from one end to the other. Now, although the off-strokes seem neater that] 
 the near, yet they are not so in fact : but as the place diminishes, so the strokes 
 close and thin in such manner, that they become neither closer nor more scanty. 
 The diminution of the figures and the three vases bears the same construction : never- 
 theless, I am sensible that many, even old masters, do otherwise in handling their 
 retiring objects, figures, trees, off-scape, and sky, more coarsely behind than forwards. 
 I have even observed, that they close-hatch the nearest and darkest sky, and Avork 
 wider and wider towards the horizon ; but this more in etching than engraving ; 
 possibly to save the trouble of using two or more needles, or of stopping up, which 
 is properly the point this example aims at* for I do not ask here, whether it creates 
 more trouble, but shew what may possibly be thought of less moment than in fact it 
 is: for instance, I place the three figures. No. 1, 7, 3, ten or twelve steps apart : and 
 at the same distance on the parapet, three vases, also numbered 1, 2, 3; w hereby 
 may be plainly perceived, how much the one differs from the other. But althougii 
 in these figures the meaning is sufficiently to be understood ^ to wit, that the finer 
 they are, the more fine and close the strokes become ; yet I have added the vases 
 to them, for the sake of those who may be curious enough to count the strokes : 
 when they will find not a stroke more or less in the one than the other ; which in the 
 figures would be tedious w^ork. Observe, in thenext place, the ground-shade of each 
 figure against the parapet, each growing faint according to its distance, and with what 
 certainty the accurate tints of the figures may be perceived thereon; even to know 
 how much they diminish and grow finer ; and at the same time, how much the light 
 differs. But let it not be thought sufficient, that the sliades diminish or grow faint, 
 and the white remains all over the light; since we know that the plan or ground can- 
 not shew its level otherwise, than by means of light forw^ards, going off darker and 
 darker: for instance, were a white figure or white stone standing forwards, and you 
 would place such another further in, where the ground is darker, you must govern 
 yourself by the ground where the first object stands, as being subject to the same 
 rule, if things be well finished. If the plan or ground be finished, the figures ought 
 to be so likewise. Are they airily handled and broad-lighted ? the ground must be 
 the same : and though the ground in its colour be more or less dark, yet that is not re- 
 garded in this case ; because we are speaking only of the diminution of the tints, 
 consisting of white and black. Suppose the floor w'ere of white marble, and the 
 figures the same, or in white draperies ; the foremost would be broad lighted, and 
 the more distant less and less white, were it even in sun-shine ; nay, if the light came 
 from behind, or from aside, the most distant would only keep an utmost heightening, 
 and still less, were the colours expressed in it ; as they who understand perspective 
 well know : nor can it be otherwise, as may be seen in the first example in thechild s 
 
 2 M 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
266 
 
 Of Engravmg, 
 
 hand holding the end of the hindmost spoke, which plainly appears to have little or 
 no whiteness; and as for the stuffs of the objects, as linen, cloth, and such like, some 
 may rather think them possible to be so worked than the naked ; because, having 
 already engraved forwards as neat and fine as may be, we can therefore further in, 
 not express any thing finer or neater : but I say, that as things having the utmost 
 neatness, do not become neater by distance, nor alter in the eye, but disappear ; so, 
 when the objects are very remote, neither silk, linen, or woollen is to be distin- 
 guished, so far as it concerns the hatching ; but the coarse parts always keep their 
 forms : and this observation respects not only the three stuffs, but also figures, stones, 
 grounds, trees, &c. Here some, perhaps, may say, how can the strokes possibly 
 unite the light, when they, as they retire, ought to be closer and closer, especially 
 when the air, (which, on the horizon, is clear and bright and free from clouds) unless 
 they widen more and more towards the horizon, were they never so faint? To which 
 I answer, as experience will prove, that when the strokes thus thin and grow faint 
 in their going edf, they certainly disappear and die away; nay, become at last invisi- 
 ble, and unite enough with the light, even were it sun-shine, though they be ever 
 so close: and such a length I think the graver can go when skilfully managed. In 
 etching, the needle can do the same by stopping up. 
 
 However, I question not but my proposition w ill be taxed with impossibility and 
 puzzling novelty, especially by such as are not thorough engravers, who may blame 
 me for thus disclosing the grounds of this noble art, and so plainly shewing truth : 
 but my answer in the first place, is, that I find myself obliged in duty to do so, since 
 all my wishes tend towards its arriving at the greatest perfection. Secondly, be- 
 cause what I lay down is prescribed by certain rules of the mathematics ; though 
 few are sensible that the art of engraving in general flows from such principles, and 
 that different objects require different handlings; but rather believe, that a good 
 method of drawing will easily lead to engraving ; a notion true enough in etching, 
 though even in that the point lies most in the biting and stopping out. As to en- 
 graving, yon must certainly be conversant with the handling and force of the gra- 
 ver; two points not to be attained without great experience; though in the begin- 
 ning it is better for an etcher to have no handling at all; because he may then gra- 
 dually the better bring the graver to the needle, and in an uniformity of strokes 
 adapt the one to the other, and make them harmonious : whereas some, relying 
 too much on the graver, use it here and there in their slovenly works, without any 
 difference, and that with incredible carelessness ; sometimes cutting a foreground, 
 stone, or stem of a tree, neat and smooth, which ought to be rough and knobby ^ 
 when at the same time they are working a face or marble figure with the needle^ 
 
Of Engraving. 26? 
 
 This must be owing either to their carelessness, or desire of ease, or their ignorance, 
 since such doings are against reason and common instruction. 
 
 I could mention many such disorderly prints ; among others there is one of the 
 raising of Lazarus, done by Eerry, wherein the figure of Lazarus, with so much of 
 the linen as comes about his body, is etched, and the rest of the linen lying on the 
 ground, neatly engrared, whereby one part looks like linen, and the other like silk ; 
 the one is here and there stipped, and the other is not. But perhaps the plate was 
 not well bit. It also sometimes happens, that we are obliged to rub out things, 
 which makes good my assertion : for, if the fault lie in the plate, the master ought, 
 as much as possible, to help it by his knowledge and judgment. Could he handle 
 the graver. Why did he not shew it and make things agree ? And if he was not mas- 
 ter of the graver, Why did he not better follow the strokes of the needle? Had he, 
 instead of cross-hatching, made the strokes somewhat finer and triplediatched them, 
 and used some stipping, then it would have been passable. 
 
 There is another print, with an ornament round it, representing a sacrifice ot 
 Flora, or the Spring, which is also wretchedly etched and engraved; for the fore- 
 most figures, as Charity, Piety, and Time, and every thing else on the fore-ground, 
 are neatly finished and mostly engraved ; but the figures on the second ground so, 
 slight and poorly etched, as not to have any agreement with the others ; the strokes 
 even look as if they were dabbed on and drawn with a shaking hand, instead of grow- 
 ing fainter every where, which would make the work neat and entire. This artist 
 might have known, that he could not make the graver and the needle agree. 
 
 I am sensible some will determine, Ihat many things, such as water, silver, gold, 
 and such like smooth and shining bodies, can be mofe conveniently expressed with 
 the graver than the needle ; but, in my opinion, a skilful hand can give every thing 
 its naturalness. 
 
 It is very strange to me, in the old prints, that the masters have in nothing repre- 
 sented the natural qualities, but etched every thing after one manner, whether nu- 
 dities, draperies, air, grounds, or stone — except water; and yet not this with thia 
 and thick . strokes, but only cross parallels, and those very unlike, oftentimes close, 
 and then wide, as if they were scratched again, they have not expressed any colour, 
 and always made the water dark and brown. Now% to create a difference in shining 
 bodies, my thoughts are, that you first lay the strokes strong and parallel, and of a 
 reasonable width from each other, and then close them by putting thinner between; 
 I mean in w ater, black mai’ble, polished steel, and such like ; for by this method 
 wa produce a certain stir, shewing the smoothness and glitter. 
 
 If it be asked. Why, in etching, the strokes which are close and thick sometimes 
 fly up, though the plate be in good condition, and the ground neither burnt nor 
 
 2 m 
 
268 
 
 Of Engravings 
 
 too hard ? I answer, that I have found by experience, that when the water is too 
 strong, and at first bites too sharp, we must then take our chance ; because the 
 plate being cold cannot grow warm so soon as the ground, which, therefore, is for- 
 cibly lifted from the plate and presently rises ; and the sooner if the strokes be close 
 and thick ; which happens not so easily in the tender parts, where, by the thinness 
 and width of the strokes, the w^ater has not so much power to get under them. 
 To prevent this, the water must be somewhat weakened, and the ground and plate 
 gradually made warm, in order to make them unite with each other ; especially in 
 cold weather : for in the warm months of June, July, and August, it is not neces- 
 sary, because we then use harder grounds. 
 
 Now to know whether the ground be in good condition, I make a scratch or two, 
 with a large needle in a spare place of the plate ; and if the ground come out of the 
 strokes like dust, it is then too hard ; but if in curls, it is in good temper, especially 
 if you can blow them off. If they cannot be wiped off with a soft feather, but stick 
 to the ground, it is then too soft. This is a nice point. It sometimes happened to 
 me, that here and there they remained in the strokes. 
 
 Some etchers also frequently give themselves needless trouble when they put out 
 the outlines, which are made too strong on the light side, with stop-ground, which 
 always flows more or less over them, especially if the place be hot: but consider 
 what trouble they must afterw ards have, when the outline is gone ; for they are 
 obliged to renew with the graver all the strokes running against it. 
 
 Wherefore, the best w ay is, to trace the drawing neatly on the plate, and mark at 
 first softly with a small point, the dark touches, as those of the eyes, nose, and mouth, 
 on the shaded side; yet not on the light. But to help them in stopping out their 
 too strong strokes, I shall assign a better method than that of the stop-ground. 
 
 Take thick-ground white lead, thinned w ith oil of turpentine, and spread it with a 
 small pencil over the outline, so as just to cover it, and no farther: but, be very 
 careful not to do it over more than once, lest you take off the ground ; for the oil af- 
 terwards evaporates ; and in the biting, you must also not wipe over it with the feather. 
 This is an invention of a friend of mine; and, though I never experimented it, yet 
 question not its success. I mention white lead ; but you may use any other colour 
 that is light and plainly visible. 
 
Of Engravwg. 
 
 26‘9 
 
 CHAP, IX. 
 
 OF THE BLACK ART, OR MEZZOTINTO. 
 
 Though no figure of this art is to be found in Caesar Ripa, as having been unknown 
 to him ^ yet since in our times, through its foundation laid by princes and the kind 
 assistance of great men, it is arrived at so great perfection, I hope the following 
 figure will not be unacceptable to the professors and lovers of it. 
 
 Figure of the Black Arty or Mezzotmto, 
 
 Here you see a young and plump virgin, of a fresh complexion and amiable coun- 
 tenance, dressed in black velvet, lined and faced with sky-blue, powdered with gold 
 glittering stars. She has a broad gold girdle embroidered with black bats, which 
 diminish towards the arms. Her head attire is wanton and modish, adorned here 
 and there with small flowers. About her neck is a gold chain, to which hangs a me- 
 dal, exhibiting a burning altar, and these words, MAGNJE BRITANNItE. In her 
 right hand is a small tool, like a lancet, together with a feather; and in the left a 
 table, whereon is painted a head on a black ground, representing Nature. She 
 poises airily on one leg, as if she were dancing. 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 The Art is represented young and plump, to signify, that she is still growing. 
 The black velvet gown and stars imply that, like the stars, she is sprung from 
 dark night. The golden girdle and bats give us to understand, that though her 
 productions are not very lasting, yet she makes great gains. The chain with the 
 medal and altar thereon, proclaims her lustre; and the words round it allude to 
 an offering of thanks to Great Britain, to whom she owes her origin and glory. 
 The table, with the figure of Nature shews, that she excels therein. The rest ex- 
 plains itself.. 
 
270 
 
 0 / Tull graving. 
 
 Why this beautiful figure bears the name of the Black Art I never heard, though 
 her practice sufficiently gives us the reason, which is, that she proceeds from 
 black. And though the art of etching also seems to be derived from black, 
 yet it IS done m quite a diflferent manner; for the former comes forth from 
 
 the light, and the latter from the shade ; the one heightens, and the other sha- 
 dows. 
 
 We have already said tliat etching is in speed superior to engraving ; but mez- 
 zotinting is more expeditious than either of them ; and in neatness has not its fel- 
 low: it may even compare with a painting, how soft and fluent soever, abating 
 for the colours. Indeed, in duration and wear it is the weakest; but, on the other 
 hand, its .expeditiousness brings in tnore money. 
 
 This noble art is preferable to any engraving in representing uncommon lights, 
 as candle, torch, lamp, fire, and the like : wherefore, I think it does not impro- 
 perly bear the name of the black art. It is remarkable not to be above fifty years 
 standing, and yet is arrived at so great perfection ; those other arts have required 
 more time. But England, where the climate is healthful and temperate, has con- 
 tributed much to its neatness and lustre. There it had its birth and furtherance : 
 foi piince Rupert* gave us the first example. Wherefore We may rightly style it 
 noble. The first print I saw of this prince was of an old man’s head, with a cloth 
 about it, taken, as far as I know, from an Italian painting. It was designed so fine 
 and great, and broad handled, as if washed with the pencil of the best master : 
 it even looked, by reason of the natural softness or melting, not to be less than 
 
 black art. The same prince also invented a certain metal bearing his name, which 
 it will retain for ever. 
 
 I doubt not but this art will in time become a delightful diversion to painters, for 
 three reasons. One for its easiness in learning ; two, for its neatness ; and, lastly, 
 for its conveniency. 
 
 1. It is easily learned, by any one who is accustomed to draw on grounded or 
 blue paper; because there is no difTerence in operation between the scraping on the 
 plate and heightening on the grounded paper, beginning with the greatest light, and 
 sparing the shade; as we have shewed in our drawing-book, touching the handling 
 of crayons or chalk pencils. Wherefore I affirm, that it comes nearer to a painting 
 than etching or engraving. And it is so easily apprehended, I mean in theory, as 
 to be learned in less than three days. 
 
 The celebrated relative and general of our unfortunate first Charles. — E. 
 
Of Engraving, 271 
 
 2. It is neat and free from soil and smell; not, requiring either a stop-tgroimd^ 
 
 grease, or aquae fords. 
 
 .Lastly, the conyeniency arising from it may be easily conjectured ; as it is more 
 expeditious than either etching or engraving. < 
 
 But many are so eager in this art to learn neat scraping, as to neglect the principal 
 part, the outline, which they often over-run and cannot be brou^jt- right again ; aqd 
 when correct design is wanting in a plate or print, what judicious person will ,ap.> 
 prove it ? Indeed, we cannot manage here as in etching, where the outline may be 
 traced on the plate with a needle ; for the white sometimes goes out, or is so faint as 
 scarce to be seen ; besides, it is inconvenient to scrape figures against a light ground ; 
 though artists generally used to work the figure first, and then the back-ground 
 behind it. Now, to prevent this inconvenience, first scrape your back-ground, and 
 spare the outline ; rather keeping a little out from it till the figure be finished : 
 afterwards you may gently scrape nearer. Thus you will not so easily run over the 
 outline as ’when you begin wdth the figure. 
 
 There is a great difference between the etching, engraving, and scratching of 
 painters and that of engravers ; for the former making it only their diversion, do not 
 finish things so very highly as the latter, who have been brought up therein, and 
 make it their constant business. Painters are satisfied with shewing only good de- 
 sign and general decorum ; because, when they were neatly to finish one plate, they 
 can w ork another. 
 
 This art is certainly easy to a person of good knowdedge : but if the work be not 
 light enough at first, go over it a second time. Indeed, you must not think to finish 
 up at once, because, till a proof be taken, you cannot possibly know what condition 
 your plate is in. Do like the painters, first to dead-colour with broad parts, and then 
 finish. Now, having a proof, you can give the work its main heightness, and 
 thus with patience finish every part ; a point requiring neither much time nor study, 
 but a little observation. There is published a print of a little satyr, which in an 
 hour’s time I scraped loose in my hand, as I walked in a garden ; and, after a proof 
 taken, finished in another hour. Few learn this art ; because, as I think, they can- 
 not be persuaded how easy it is, and with what few circumstances attended. But 
 should amateurs set about it, we may possibly in time see it become too common, 
 and etching and engraving neglected; I mean, in objects peculiar to the black 
 art, such as portraits, night and candle-pieces, spectres and enchantments, appari- 
 tions, flowers, fruits, silver, gold, china-ware, crystal, arms, and herbs. Who will 
 be able to etch or engrave those things so perfect and natural as they can be scraped 
 but in figure, architecture, bass-reliefs, and landscape, the art is weak, and not at 
 all so proper as engraving. 
 
272 
 
 Of Engraving, 
 
 It is a great pity, that both this beautiful art and the artist have so bad a name, as 
 if the one ^vere witchcraft, and the other a magician, though nothing but mere works 
 of art. I long to hear what name the Italiam will give it. The French and English, 
 agreeable to the Dutchy call it — the former, VArt noire — and the latter the black art. 
 An improper and unnatural name, unless they mean first, that the artist works the 
 light out of the black ground ; and in the next place, to distinguish it from etching 
 and engraving. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J. F. DOVE, Printer, $t. John’s Square, London. 
 
TO THE 
 
 READERS AND STUDENTS 
 
 OF THE PRECEDING EXCELLENT 
 
 TREATISE OF GERARD DE EAIRESSE. 
 
 I WISH now to address some observations, that may guide the judgment of one 
 class, and the practice of the other. This Treatise, the best that has yet been 
 produced, is written with vigour and perspicuity, explaining and advocating the 
 practices and intentions of imitative arts on the solid principles of common sense ; 
 the only basis on which any one can hope to raise an useful and permanent fabric. It 
 is true, he has occasionally made use of the fanciful term genius^ and that, too, 
 with a degree of complacency ; but he has not attempted to throw round it that 
 splendour of peculiar privilege, with which the successful in art are ever solicitous 
 to emblazon their names. I have done no more, on the present occasion, than to 
 supervise the former English translation, which I found to be very scarce ; and I 
 had repeatedly recommended it in my Lectures at the Royal Institution, as the best 
 work on art that my auditors could consult. 
 
 The progress which has been made since the time of Gerard de Lairesse, in the 
 philosophy, or rather the common sense, of the arts, seemed to require from an 
 editor of his excellent work, some view of the subject, that might bring it down to 
 the present state of opinion and judgment. In concluding, J shall endeavour to 
 
 2 N 2 
 
276 
 
 Concluding Essay ^ <^c. 
 
 give you the strongest possible motives for exertion in cultivating particularly the 
 Arts of Drawing and Painting, convinced, as I have long been, that a successful 
 cultivation of them is essential to the vital interests of this country. Thus, then, 
 the professed artists, the dilettante, and the connoisseur, may each make his amuse- 
 ment, or profession, the support or the glory of his native land. 
 
 I will proceed, now, to the observations which I wish to impress upon your 
 minds. 
 
 The first principle of painting, it should ever be remembered, is, that it pro- 
 fesses to imitate, by means of colours applied upon an uniform surface, appear- 
 ances that have been, now are, or that might be, in nature. This principle, 
 however, positive and indispensable as it is, must be accompanied by some in- 
 junctions and pi'ecautions. The painter who depicts, without exception, every 
 thing in nature as it comes before him, will be always natural, but never ele- 
 gant ; the painter, who paints from his mind only, will be generally affected or 
 extravagant, but never natural. Let us examine the cause. Objects in nature, 
 though subject to an Universal Providence, are yet liable to various accidents, 
 which deteriorate from their proper colours and forms. A tree, growing in a 
 favouring soil, will shoot constantly upright, will spread its leafy branches equally 
 round it, and will seem like a proud ornament on the bosom of nature ; but, if it 
 be subject in its growth to the effect of prevalent winds, it will incline from the 
 powerful attack, and throw its verdant foliage to the other side: or a tree, too 
 closely pressed by neighbours, even of its own kind, seems to refuse society, and 
 puts out its leafy honours in an opposite direction. A rock may be split, thrown 
 or driven from its original character, though seemingly the least alterable of nature’s 
 materials. But that part of nature, most liable to deviations from its original 
 structure, is the human frame. Climates, governments, habits of thinking, occu- 
 pations, accidents— all tend to induce occasional and frequent modifications of that 
 beautiful form, which God first, for his own honour, impressed upon man. In some 
 countries, women press the noses of their children to make them flat ; in others, _ 
 females hang heavy weights to their own ears, to make them grow down to the 
 shoulders ; in other countries, again, the feet are crippled to a diminutive size ; 
 and all these because it is there thought beautiful. But, leaving mere prejudices. 
 
Concluding Essays 277 
 
 we will look only to the deteriorations of human form, which arise from habits and 
 employments. The sailor, and the waterman who rows, will have large arms and 
 shoulders, with comparatively small legs and feet, because the upper parts of tlie 
 figure are chiefly used in their pursuits ; the porter, who is accustomed to support 
 and to move under great weights, will have large legs and wide spread feet ; the 
 smith, who is continually wielding a weighty hammer in his right hand, will have 
 that hand and arm considerably larger than the left, which is not called upon for 
 similar exertions. Accidents and affectations have also their share in injuring the 
 beauty of human forms. 
 
 The result of these observations to you, will, I trust, be a conviction, that to 
 paint any man, or any woman, that may be presented to the practitioner, would 
 not ensure the production of a beautiful picture. Here, then, we come to the im- 
 portant fact, that the student must learn to select that which is perfect or beautiful 
 in nature from that which has been deteriorated, whatever might be the cause ; 
 otherwise he must confine himself to paint only such combinations as necessarily 
 belong to the figures he can set before him. But, it will readily be asked, what 
 certain guide is there to direct in this selection of the beautiful from the imperfect 
 in nature? Some enthusiasts will tell you, that it is by a careful study of the an- 
 tique statues ; but these, though fine, have, alas ! like all other works of human 
 hand§, thair imperfections too. There is, however, a much higher standard to aid our 
 researches on this point. Beauty in visible objects is, so far as it goes, a manifesta- 
 tion of the excellence of the Creator ; and our perception of it is a sympathetic 
 consciousness of our affinity to that perfect Being, of whom the human soul is an 
 emanation ; and, consequently, in proportion as the human mind is purified and 
 sublimed, it will become more susceptible to those indications of divine perfection, 
 which, in created forms, we call beauty. Writers on this subject have divided this 
 property into two kinds ; first) the beauty of utility, or the fitness of an object to 
 its end; and, next, the ornamental beauty of form; but it is all resolvable to the 
 same principle. The first is the wisdom of God, exemplified in his arrangements, 
 which we delight to see ; the latter, in human nature, is the image of God, which 
 we delight to love. On this ground, then, we are enabled to combat the diffi- 
 culties that have puzzled many of the essayists on the subject, from their observ- 
 
278 
 
 Concluding Essay, 
 
 iiig that the rude inhabitants of Asia, of America, of Africa, of the South Sea 
 Islands, have all a different standard for what they deem beautiful. But, where 
 the mind is sunk in gross sensuality and ignorance, it has little or no power to 
 perceive beauty, and therefore sets up something or other for its admiration, as 
 chance or caprice may direct. If we look at the different states of Europe, where 
 civilization has made the greatest advances, where intellect has been cultivated and 
 sentiment greatly refined, we shall discover that there is but little variation in their 
 notions of personal beauty ; because they have advanced, considerably, towards 
 that point of improved intellect, which admits the sympathetic perception of God’s 
 excellence. This is no new doctrine, or hypothesis. The same ideas, on this sub- 
 ject, were suggested as long ago as the splendid reign of Queen Elizabeth, by our 
 fairy poet Spenser, in his Hymn to the Honour of Beauty. 
 
 How vainly then do idle wits invent. 
 
 That Beauty is nought else but mii^ture made 
 Of colours fair, and goodly temperament 
 Of pure complexion, that shall shortly fade 
 And pass away, like to a summer shade ; 
 
 Or that it is but comely composition 
 Of parts well measur’d, with meet disposition . 
 
 Hath white and red in it such wondrous pow’r. 
 
 That it can pierce through eyes into the heart, 
 
 And therein stir such rage and restless tow’r, 
 
 As only death can stint the dol’rous smart? 
 
 Why do not then the blossoms of the field, 
 
 So fairly dress’d in much more brilliant hue. 
 
 And to the sense most dainty odours yield. 
 
 Work like impression on the looker’s view ? 
 
 But perhaps you will not regret to have this important part of the subject ex- 
 emplified still further, with regard to human beauty. Symmetry, or the relative pro- 
 portion of part to part, is a portion of beauty which may be found in a statue, if 
 the workman had sufficient skill to copy the wonderful symmetry of perfect nature; 
 
Concluding Essay ^ tf’C. 279 
 
 V 
 
 and yet this, even this symmetry, with the powerful addition of ootnploxion to en- 
 force it, we are told — 
 
 “ Soon grows familiar to the lover, 
 who begins with doating on it; 
 
 “ Fades on the eye, 
 
 “ And palls upon the sense.” 
 
 But where expression is superadded, the very tendency of which is to destroy 
 symmetry, the spectator is struck, pierced, and delighted. He feels in every part of 
 his intellectual powers an immediate and sympathetic acknowledgment of the di- 
 vine origin of the soul. Let me beg leave, here, to refer to your own particular 
 experience on this subject. You well know how beautiful English females in 
 general are ; but yet many, notwithstanding, have met with some of our country- 
 women who have no elegant conformation of features, no ivory forehead, or bloom- 
 ing cheek, and altogether such as you would have passed with perfect indifference ; 
 yet, when you have spent some time in their society, you have left them with regret, 
 have wished for the occasion when you might return to them, and have had a 
 general impression on your minds, that if they were not quite beautiful, they were 
 at least something very nearly approaching to it. This is nothing more than the 
 approximating of soul to soul ; but the practical inference to be drawn from it is, 
 that though expression may destroy symmetry where it exists, it may also induce 
 to give symmetry where it did not exist before. 
 
 Thus, then, expression may be considered as the first part of personal beauty ; 
 permanent symmetry, or proportion, as the most important part ; and colour, or 
 complexion, as almost equal to symmetry, because it has charms in itself, and 
 because it conduces greatly to expression. Our great poet of nature was well 
 aware of this, when he said — 
 
 The life blood 
 
 Stood in her face, and so divinely wrought, 
 
 One would almost have said her body thought. 
 
2 so Concluding Essay, ^c. 
 
 This principle of selecting the perfect parts of individuals, in order to form a per- 
 fect human model, was perceived and acted upon by the Greeks. Polignotus col- 
 lected a number of the most beautiful maidens his country could afford, and from 
 their perfections deduced those measures of proportion for female beauty, which af- 
 terwards obtained the pre-eminent denomination of the Rule, and which have since 
 been followed in all sculptures of feminine figures. From these observations, we 
 derive three of the most important principles of drawing and of painting ; viz. 
 that the object of these arts is to imitate visible nature ; that with vulgar minds, it 
 will consist in imitating well, whatever kind of nature may chance to come in the 
 artist’s way : that the perfection of these arts consists in imitating well the selected 
 beauties of nature, and that to be able to make the selection, the mind of the prac- 
 titioner must be highly refined and sublimated, as an intellectual, a spiritual being. 
 Next, we find a principle existing in human nature, to which the artist must address 
 himself invariably, in order to complete success in his exertions— it is the desire of 
 novelty. The finest model of human perfection, even the lovely statue of Venus at 
 Florence, strikes, delights, enchants on a first view, on a second, and perhaps on 
 a third ; but, after that, the spectator’s mind silently assents to its perfections, and 
 if you could suppose it permanently placed in the sitting room of any dilettante, 
 however exquisite his taste, you may conclude that he would soon regard it with in- 
 difference. This thirst for novelty has been charged by various essayists upon 
 human nature, as a species of depravity ; but philosophers seldom speak of human 
 nature, but as a refractory something, which they cannot bend to their systems, 
 and therefore quarrel with it on every occasion. The fact unquestionably is, that 
 this perpetual eagerness for something new is no other than a panting of the soul 
 after yrcsA, or more indications of the Deity from whom it emanates, and of whose 
 perfection beauty is the evident sign. However, as this feeling exists, the painter 
 must apply himself to gratify it, which he must do in his works by variety, or modi- 
 fied intricacy of arrangement, which the spectator does not immediately develope. 
 
 Variety has three modes of displaying itself; in forms, in tones, and in colours: 
 the first of these belongs to drawing, and the other two to painting — and all are 
 under an irresistible influence from the number three, which some would be inclined 
 to call mysterious. The triangle, in its various modifications, exhibits more variety 
 
281 
 
 Concluding Essay, ^’C. 
 
 than any other form of so simple construction. The oval, or egg shape, is the curva- 
 ture of the triangle, and is the elegant principle of female forms ; the most beautiful 
 in all the works of creation. The square, or cube, governs the form of man ; the 
 circle, or globe, the forms of children ; and, as the one has all its angles, and all 
 its sides alike, and the other has all its parts equally distant from a common centre, 
 it is evident that little or no variety can be drawn from either, simply as elements of 
 forms. But, besides the adoption of the triangle as a first eleme7it of variety, it is 
 necessary to avoid the frequent recurrence of parallel forms even of this kind ; for 
 the principle, if soon repeated, is immediately divulged, and the effect totally lost. 
 
 This principle also demands the rejection of a number of parallel lines, and I am 
 the more solicitous to impress this strongly upon your consideration, because the 
 contrary practice has the authority of most of the antique bass relief sculptures, 
 and because the French School of Painting, affecting, under its late emperor, every 
 thing like Grecian or Roman feeling, long adopted these antique sculptures as the 
 criterion of excellence, and as the most praise-worthy objects of imitation. 
 
 Variety^ as arising from tones, or the quantity and degree of light in a picture, 
 has been very ably regulated by a celebrated artist. He prescribes that one fourth 
 of a picture should be given to the highest light ; one fourth to the extreme dark, 
 and the remaining half he thinks should be devoted to the mezzotones, or half tones : 
 yet, if this be taken according to strict sense, it will lead to unfortunate results. 
 
 But in the distribution of these quantities of light and dark, the triangle, or the 
 principle of three, comes in aid of our difficulties. The quarter of the picture allot- 
 ted to high light should be divided into three parts, and should be distributed at the 
 points of a supposed irregular triangle, each differing from the other in extent, or in 
 brilliancy. It has been the custom of most painters, and particularly those of the 
 present day, to put the most considerable of these lights in, or near, the centre of 
 the picture : this, however, has not been an universal practice, Claude Lorraine, 
 in general, made the upper half of his pictures light, and the lower half dark ; and 
 Rembrandt frequently placed his principal light near the top of his composition; 
 seldom allowing more than the sixteenth of his extent for bright light. By such 
 practices, it must be observed, particular purposes are obtained, but they must 
 
 2 o 
 
282 
 
 Conchicling Essajj, c^c. 
 
 \ 
 
 be considered only as deviations from a general principle. The next part of 
 Painting, in which variety is to be studied and exhibited, is colours; consisting 
 of three relative principles — quality, kind, and distribution ; for here again the 
 triangle has a predominating influence. There are three primitive colours, blue, 
 red, and yellow ; three compound colours, orange, green, and purple : the 
 th ree first of these in nature produce, when united, light, or white ; their three 
 representatives in art produce hlack, when mixed together. For the purpose of 
 painting, these colours have different properties, which it will be necessary here 
 to notice, though not arising out of the principle of variety. Blue represents 
 distance, or whatever has a decided portion of blue for one of its elements, has 
 a tendency to retire into the picture. Red, and yellow, or whatever tint strongly 
 partakes of these colours, will seem to approach the spectator ; but red has this 
 tendency greatly more than yellow : red also has a peculiar property in paint- 
 ing, which must be noticed, and which must be treasured up in the minds of 
 those who mean to practice. Red, by its power to irritate the organ of sight, has 
 the power to attract attention in a picture, or to act as a light ; while its tone rela- 
 tively, with other parts of the performance, may be made to act as a dark. Some 
 of the great masters in colouring have most ably availed themselves of the double 
 property possessed by this colour. To proceed, if any colour appear once only 
 in a picture, it becomes distinct, insulated, and disagreeable : it should therefore 
 be revived, or made to reappear in some parts of the work twice ; each portion 
 being inferior in extent to the first mass of that colour which attracts notice, and 
 one of the two subordinates also to the other : these three portions of the same 
 colour should invariably have a triangular arrangement, and if the picture be to 
 exhibit the high finishing of true representation, each portion of the colour should 
 have its own distribution on the same principle, in its immediate vicinity by re- 
 flection, or other means. Of this principle, no one availed himself more con- 
 stantly and effectually than Rubens ; in his light pictures almost all the beauty 
 arises from distribution. 
 
 There is in colours, as displayed by nature, a principle of opposition, and also 
 of union, which the painter must study attentively, on account of the great defi- 
 ciency of his materials, to imitate almost any thing that can be set before him. 
 
283 
 
 Concluding Essay, <^c. 
 
 Light, which is the primary cause of colour in objects, shews, when decomposed, 
 that it has consisted of three compound colours ; but, however frequently you 
 may make the experiment of this decomposition, you will never find the simple 
 colours, the red, yellow, or blue, in contact with each other : they are invariably 
 connected by their compounds becoming intermediates. Thus, between red and 
 blue, you will have purple ; between blue and yellow, green ; and between red and 
 yellow, ormige. The adoption of this principle in works of art, will always pro- 
 duce what is technically called harmony : but, if the primitive or simple colours 
 could be brought together, the result would be a painful discordance, by each 
 making the effect of the other more violent : yet the painter is frequently obliged to 
 employ the aid of this power of contrast, because he has no materials, which bear 
 any kind of proportion to the splendid hues in the commonest effects of nature. 
 But this aid must be used with extreme caution, and always with reference, and 
 subject to the principle of intermediates, or harmony will be effectually destroyed. 
 It is true, however, that if the painter have any strong motive for making any object, 
 or any part of an object, so attractive as to command attention, he may always ef- 
 fect it by bringing two masses of primitive colour together, as he may also, by bring- 
 ing the strongest positive dark close to his brightest light. 
 
 These are the great principles which influence the practices of painting ; and the 
 next point is for you to consider well the subject you would wish to select, for the 
 purpose of displaiying your acquirements in this art. The choice of subjects for 
 pictures will always govern the final impression to be made by them ; and, though 
 great talents ma'y dazzle and surprise even the considering spectator in the skilful 
 management of an ill-chosen subject, yet choice of subject, suitableness of ac- 
 cessories, and concurring combinations of forms, colours, and tones, are all indispen- 
 sable to efiect such an impression on the mind, as will make painting a really useful 
 art. Every picture, therefore, should conduce to some purpose of moral or intel- 
 lectual good ; and it is thus that I propose to treat the discussion, beginning with 
 Landscape, tljough an inferior branch in this art. 
 
 I presume the artist to have his mind so well stored with objects of every kind, 
 distinctly impressed by accurate delineations, that he can at any time produce them 
 with a degree of fidelity little short of his first studies, and which state of mind has 
 
 2 o 2 
 
284 
 
 Concluding Essay, 
 
 been kept up by an occasional recurrence to nature. Such an artist in landscape, 
 sitting down to paint a picture, will consider first, whether it shall be cheerful, or 
 grave, awfully impressive, or sportively elegant. He will then find the great advan- 
 tage of classing his ideas under some general head, and we will suppose this classifi- 
 cation to be the rural, the elegant, and the grand. The first of these will embrace 
 the pursuits of agriculture, the occupations, habits, and postures of cottage maids 
 and swains ; and the faithful services of domestic, irrational animals to their reason- 
 ing lord. The ploughed field, the farm-yard, the lowing kine collecting for the dex- 
 trous hands of the milk-maid, will become important features in such combinations : 
 these open the heart to a contemplation of the usefulness of rural labours, and lead 
 the wealthy, who live in cities and great towns, to wish for a participation in pur- 
 suits, which bring health of body, and tranquillity of mind. But, if the painter 
 would go further than these, let him represent the vigorous husbandman, at the 
 dawn of morning, teaching his ruddy children to trim and train up the flagrant 
 shrubs that cling round his cottage; or let him pourtray the venerable senior of 
 some little hamlet, seated at the close of evening under a spreading oak, exciting the 
 youth and maids of the neighbourhood to healthful pastimes, and distributing, with 
 'his labour-furrowed hands, rewards to the most successful. Yet, let me seriously 
 warn the painter of subjects in this class, not to contaminate his surface, and debase 
 his talents, with depicting the licentious revelry, and the unseemly excesses of 
 drunken boors and profligate women ; for if he should, and succeed after years of 
 incessant labour and study, in representing these with a degree of truth that seems 
 perfectly illusive, he will only have done that which every real friend of human na- 
 ture or of the art would wish never to have seen, or not to have remembered. You 
 will perceive here, that I mean particularly to allude to the pictures of Teniers, 
 who possessed as much dexterity in painting, prohahly, as any one who ever exist- 
 ed. Endeavour to retrace in your minds the subjects of all the performances by this 
 master, and you will not be able to bring back one that is not characterized by such 
 a general coarseness of subject, or polluted by such unseemly incidents, as ought to 
 prevent them from being hung in apartments where females assemble. To paint 
 such things is to pervert the most sublime art that ever engaged the faculties 
 of man. 
 
285 
 
 Concluding Essm/, cfc. 
 
 But there is a consideration distinct from all others that would lead many to the 
 choice of Rural Landscape, for the artist’s studies and exertions. The proper 
 scenes, with their accessories and appendages, furnish incessant occasion tor that 
 roughness and inequality of surface which leads to picturesque expression in paint- 
 ing.— A cottage nearly falling to pieces, but sustained by some rude props ; a piece 
 of shattered railing ; a thatched roof covered with moss and ivy ; the ill-marked 
 pathway through a green lane: or, a carriage road cut into deep furrows— all fur- 
 nish admirable materials for the pencil Indeed, it has been most happily remarked, 
 by an accomplished gentleman and artist of the present day, that things generally 
 become picturesque, in proportion as they become unfit for the purposes to which 
 they were destined. 
 
 The elegant, to which we may next turn in landscape subjects, is the kind ot 
 scenery in which nature has been forced by skilful hands to spread her beauties 
 over the domains of opulence and taste. These should always be governed by a 
 principle of conciliation between art and nature, and should therefore set out with 
 displaying the most artificial contrivances near the mansion, which is their centre 
 of art, and should gradually abate its appearance in favour of untutored nature, as 
 the domain approaches the surrounding country. But the advantages you will 
 have in draiving OiuA painting such scenes, are the delightful records they will give 
 you in distant years, when the scenes themselves are no longer the same, of some 
 moment of particular sentiment dear to the heart, of some important conclusion 
 invaluable to the judgment. I would, therefore, most earnestly recommend you 
 to make drawings of all the situations of this kind, which have given addition to 
 your store of intellectual gratifications. I wish to impress this particulaily on the 
 younger practitioners in art 5 for they are most interested in its results. The senti- 
 ment which has been so excited, even by momentary circumstances, as to occasion 
 a pure unsophisticated joy in the heart, should be diligently recorded by such faith- 
 ful delineations as correct drawing and painting may afford ; that delighted memory 
 may live them over again, and genuine sentiment improve by the repeated con- 
 templation. 
 
 The grand in landscape necessarily requires large and massy forms, and broad 
 shadows; and, where indefinite obscurity can be admitted, the effect is greatly 
 
286 
 
 Concluding Essay, 
 
 increased by a sort of inquiry and solicitude, which are excited in the spectator. I 
 fear we have not much in this country that can furnish subjects for the grandest 
 kind of landscape; because, where the mountains are grandly precipitous, they 
 are generally hare; and where their sides are covered, with wood, they slope away 
 and recede so gradually, that magnitude disappears. The most perfect scenery 
 for these purposes which I have yet seen in Britain, is certainly to be found on the 
 road between Dolgelle and Barmouth, and on the first four miles of the road from 
 Dolgelle to Bala in Merionethshire. But you will observe in the management of 
 grand subjects of landscape, that if your means as to reality will not furnish you 
 with those imposing masses which are necessary to grandeur, you can obtain it to a 
 certain degree by supposing the sun near the horizon, for morning or evening light, 
 and thus exclude details which are inimical ta simple effects. But you will feel in 
 all these subjects the indispensable necessity of adhering most strictly to all the 
 correctnesses of representation required by the kind of light and shadow which you 
 have first assumed. You will also have to consider, that as magnitude, so essential 
 to the grand in painting, can only be implied in our limited dimensions, we must 
 contrive, in various points of every picture, to introduce some object of which the 
 size is well known, that it may serve as a scale of measurement to establish the size 
 of that w hich would have no grandeur without it, as having no ascertainable mea- 
 surement or fixed proportion. The accessories in landscapes of the grand kind, are 
 sudden convulsions of atmosphere, earthquakes, avalanches, and inundations. 
 But in the highest subjects of this class, an overwhelming solemnity must be implied, 
 or a vastness of extent, or an awfully-impending danger, the result of which is not 
 evident to the spectator. 
 
 In your choice of subjects for pictures of figures, you have a mucli wider range, 
 but involving a much higher responsibility in those who undertake ail its branches, 
 and requiring a state of highly purified intellect, as well as a great stock of accumu- 
 lated information. I have stated already, that some eyes see colours differently from 
 other eyes; I have shewn that habit may induce our insensibility to particular co- 
 lours, and thence inferred the difficulty of painting even a single figure, so that it 
 should generally be called well : but when the object proposed is to cond)ine 
 figures in a picture for accomplishing the highest purposes of this sublime art, it 
 
287 
 
 Concluding Essai/, ^c, 
 
 certainly requires higher faculties of mind than any other pursuit in which man can 
 engage. But as it may not suit the convenience of ever^ one to pursue this branch 
 of the art to its highest point, I will beg leave to divide it into classes, in the hope 
 that every reader of this work will take up one at least. The iniral style in figures 
 is^the best suited for general practice, because the subjects are always at hand, and 
 because a small degree of discernment wall serve to select the good from the worse. 
 If these subjects descend into the familiar, and are not governed by strict dis- 
 cretion, they become parallel, in point of choice, with the low and vulgar pictures of 
 Teniers, Ostade, and Brawer, as I have stated already, which nothing would induce 
 us to tolerate, but the exquisite truth of imitation with which the objects are ren- 
 dered to the spectator. In rural subjects children present themselves first to the 
 attention of the lady artist. Their unrestrained playfulness, their ruddy faces, their 
 scarcely-covered limbs, all convey impressions associated to the sweetest feelings of 
 the heart, w hile the accompaniments of cottage steps, broken banks, styles, gates, 
 hovels, and rustic apartments — all offer materials for that sportiveness of pencil, 
 which we have just called picturesque. These I recommend particularly for your 
 early practice from nature ; for, thus while you gain dexterity of hand, you will 
 gradually imbibe a tender susceptibility to the simple beauties of unsophisticated 
 humanity. 
 
 You have numerous characters and incidents of a most interesting kind in those 
 figures advanced to maturity, and all at your doors, or easily within your com- 
 mand. You have the joyous village pouring out its numbers in the dawn of a har- 
 vest morning ; you have the weary labourer at sultry noon, reclining in some shade, 
 and enjoying his homely refreshments ; or the tender mother sitting under the shadow 
 of piled up sheaves, in order to give to her tired infant the delicate nutriment with 
 which health and exercise have amply supplied her for its support. If still you go 
 further into the open field, glowing with summer heat, you will find ample subject 
 for the rural pencil. In early season, the hay-cart, with the labours and frolics of 
 those who attend it ; in ripened harvest it will offer you 
 
 “ The rustic nymph, brown with meridian toil,” 
 
288 Concluding Essay, <^c. 
 
 labouring equally with the youth who courts her favour : if you should prefer the 
 calm still hour, when 
 
 “ Meek twdlight slowly sails, and waves her banners grey,” 
 
 you will have the ploughman trudging his weary way homewards, or arriving at his 
 cottage door, where the busy housewife hastens to meet him, and when 
 
 “ Children run to lisp their sire’s return, 
 
 “ Or climb his knee the envied kiss to share.” 
 
 In these cursory observations, tending to point out rural subjects of figures for 
 your study and imitation, I confess I have chosen British scenes and British ideas 
 only, from a conviction, that in this highly-favoured land alone, we must look for 
 happy and independent rustics. But, before I conclude my observations on this 
 part of the discussion, I must warn you against the common practice of painting 
 every rustic, man, woman, or child, with what is called o, pretty face. That is, 
 large eyes, red simpering lips, red cheeks, and a Grecian nose. There is beauty 
 enough every where in this land of personal beauty, without having recourse to such 
 Arcadian affectation. But those who have travelled in this kingdom, will not have 
 failed to observe, that there is a form and characteristic of figure which is peculiar 
 to certain districts, and which should therefore be preserved in your representations 
 when they are intended to be local. This is so very distinct in some quarters as to be 
 scarcely credible. In approaching the borders of Cumberland, by the road of Am- 
 bleside, you will find the men broad and stout, and the females tall and slender ; 
 but the moment you pass the boundary, on the summit of Dunmail Raise, you will 
 find the men tall and finely formed, and the women plump, healthy, and blooming. 
 
 The beautiful is the next class to which I would wish to direct your attention, 
 and in this you will feel yourselves particularly at home. Its objects will always 
 be to display the beauty, the graces, the embellishments, the sensibilities of po- 
 lished life in different nations. All the acts of well-regulated benevolence, all the 
 
Concluding Ussay^ ^c. 289 
 
 results of refined domestic duty^ involving filial and parental affection and solici- 
 tude, furnish materials for pictures of this class. Violent emotions must always 
 be rejected from it, and nothing admitted but what will soothe, instruct, or delight 
 the spectator. Elegantly-decorated apartments will generally be the scenes of 
 such occurrences as you would select, on these occasions, or such tastefully-con- 
 trived landscapes as bloom round the mansions of opulence and dignity. All these 
 considerations would lead me to say, that the beautiful in painting is particularly 
 suited for the practice of British ladies and British artists. The loveliness of my 
 country-women renders them models for study, greatly beyond what the highest 
 efforts of art will ever be able to imitate adequately, while their exquisite delicacy 
 of thought and highly-cultivated minds will enable them, better than any other 
 females in the world, to express and produce those subjects which they so much 
 better can feel. But as elegance and grace are indispensable qualities in most 
 compositions of this class, I may be permitted to explain what is properly under- 
 stood by. those terms. Elegance is that union of lines and dimensions, never bulky, 
 which produces intricacy and agreeable contrast of lines in objects, not moving. 
 Grace is the same results arising invariably out of the manner of motion. Milton 
 has most correctly observed this distinction in his highly poetical description of 
 our first mother; Grace was in all her steps.” Thus it, appears, that a person 
 may be elegant who is not graceful, and that gracefulness of motion will not 
 always resolve itself into elegance, when in a quiescent state. To either of 
 these qualities, as affecting the general arrangement of figure, the manner of 
 dress may greatly contribute. You will, therefore, in your choice, be led to such 
 periods of history as leave least of artificial restraint on the human form. The 
 dresses of ladies of the present day in this country, if they were generally less 
 scanty, would be highly favourable to the display of grace or elegance ; but the 
 tight dresses of our men have nothing that can recommend them to the painter. In 
 your inquiries and researches on this point, you will gain much valuable informa- 
 tion from a work on the dresses of different nations, composed by Caesar Ucellio, 
 illustrated by wooden gravings, after the drawings of his celebrated brother, Titian. 
 You, will also learn mitfch, with regard to our own national habits, at different pe- 
 riods, from the writings of Strutt. 
 
 2 p 
 
-290 Concluding Essay, ^c. 
 
 The grand, or heroic, is the highest style of painting in which I would recom- 
 mend you to engage your exertions. It should generally be devoted to display 
 and illustrate the dignified and beneficial properties of the human heart and mind. 
 Courage, which remains tranquil amidst the shocks of accumulated adversity ; bra-^ 
 very, which feels no danger in a good cause ; moderation in the middle of triumph- 
 ant successes ; generous forbearance towards a fallen adversary — all these are sub- 
 jects well suited to call forth the energies of the pencil with a view to grandeur 
 of expression. But in any one of these subjects the principle may be carried to 
 an extreme that makes painting a disgustful instrument for recording events, which 
 nothing but necessity could justify in the fact, and which the painter has no excuse 
 for exhibiting. If the energies of painting be not employed for the purposes of 
 good to man, they come to be only dangerous vices of the profession. 
 
 One of the great sources of interest in subjects of this class will arise from the 
 action represented, being incomplete, and seeming to wait for its ultimate accom- 
 plishment on circumstances within the probability of immediate occurrence. If this 
 be judiciously arranged in the picture, the spectator grows immoveable before it, by 
 the interest it excites in his heart, and at last is scarcely able to turn away, lest the 
 catastrophe, so anxiously expected, should take place before he can return. 
 
 In grand or heroio pictures, more than in any other, the practitioner requires 
 a knowledge of the dresses and manners of difierent countries, at different epochas 
 of their history, and also of different classes of persons in those countries. The 
 books to which I have already referred will yield you much information with a view 
 to your operations in this class ; and, for such as you may be inclined to take from 
 the heroic or chivalrous ages of modern history, I would recommend to your? 
 study the splendid collection of armour now arranged in Brook Streets 
 
 In the beautiful or the grand would be classed the pictures chosen from the pro- 
 fane histories of heathen gods and goddesses. I should much w'onder at these 
 fables having been made so often the subjects of the painter’s labours, did I not 
 know how much time is spent, in early life, by young men, in learning to read those 
 pernicious histories, instead of more important and useful information. There is 
 perhaps another circumstance, which probably leads to the frequency of such 
 works in art. As they are supposed to refer to a period of the world, about which^ 
 
291 
 
 Concluding Essay, ^c. 
 
 we know nothing but w'^hat the poets have told us, the painter of them is left, with- 
 out restraint, to the indulgence of his own fancy ; and very little general knowledge, 
 therefore, seems requisite. That the heathen fables may sometimes furnish to an 
 elegantly-accomplished mind, suggestions for beautiful or even grand composition, 
 I can conceive ; but they will also, (though it can scarcely be necessary to remark 
 it,) be very likely to lead often to the production of licentious picture. But if 
 these men and women deities, of ancient mythology, must be introduced at all, I 
 would have them confined to their own periods and recorded transactions. I con- 
 sider it as a great defect in a picture, to introduce any of them allegorically, to re- 
 present virtues or vices in the histories of other times, especially those not abso- 
 lutely heathen. I would illustrate this by referring to a picture, which the late 
 Mr. Hamilton painted for the Shakspeare Gallery. It is from the play of “ As 
 you Like it,” and represents the last introduction of Rosalind to Orlando after her 
 change of attire ; and the painter has brought in young Hymen with his torch, 
 politely performing the office of gentleman usher, in order to shew that the parties 
 were going to be married. 
 
 There is one class further, in the kinds of subjects for painting, which I would 
 call the terrific; and, it must be allowed, that when such works are really success- 
 ful, they constitute the highest efforts, of which the human mind is capable. Yet 
 the difficulty is so great, the mental and manual powers necessary to success so 
 very extensive, and at all times the risk so considerable of stepping into the ri- 
 diculous, which closely borders on the sublime, that I could not advise you to at- 
 tempt it. 
 
 This point properly leads me to speak of the introduction of supernatural beings, 
 as such, into your pictures. You are well aware, that every idea in the mind is the 
 copy or impression of some external object acting by means of the senses. With 
 regard, therefore, to wffiat we paint, it must be more or less the form of something 
 that we have seen, or a combination of parts of various objects that we have seen. 
 We have no idea of angels but as beautiful men or women, and we paint them as 
 such ; though some eminent masters have thought it better to give them the heads 
 and shoulders of one sex, and the bodies and limbs of the other. If we would 
 pourtray figures of sprites, fairies, goblins, ghosts, or monsters, they will be but 
 
 2 p 2 
 
292 Concluding Mssa^, ^-c. 
 
 distortions of what we have seen in reality. The mind can combine its first im- 
 pression to an indefinable extent ; but it cannot invent, or create a single new idea. 
 We must, therefore, repeat here the principle with which w^e set out — that the true 
 object of painting is to represent, by means of colours, on a smooth surface/ objects 
 and effects that have been, now are, or that might be in nature. 
 
 But, after all the reason, all the study, all the acquisition of dexterous handling, 
 or of mental accomplishments, there will be still one thing wanting to ensure com- 
 plete and high success in painting. It is the influence of a constantly-acting 
 motive, strong enough to ensure the full and persevering exercise of those various 
 powers. The sculptors, amongst the ancient Greeks, are generally allowed to 
 have carried their art to a higher degree of excellence than it has ever attained 
 since ; and the reason, I think, is obvious. They were constantly employed in 
 personifying Supposed deities; and, as it is probable that, at that early period of 
 the world, they were serious in the belief of their idolatrous worship, they would 
 feel themselves called on to promote the cause and reverence of such gods, by the 
 most impressive and beautiful representation. They might also fancy themselves 
 inspired to great exertion by the gods they were thus preparing to honour, and 
 thek vanity too would come to assist, as soon as they perceived the inference drawn 
 from such works by their countrymen : he who could make a god worthy to be 
 worshipped, must be little less than divine himself. 
 
 But, when the clouds of idolatrous profanation broke, and dispersed before the 
 splendid light of Christian Revelation, marble, and ivory, and silver, and golden 
 gods, W'ere soon laid prostrate on the earth, out of which they were taken, and the 
 sculptor s art was soon lost, for want of powerful motives. If we pass from this 
 period over some ages, pregnant with good to mankind, yet properly called dark,, 
 w ith regard to literature and the arts, we come to the time when the first council 
 of Trent was assembled, to settle disputes between Pope Leo Isaurus and the 
 Empress Irene. 
 
 This council decreed that pictures might be introduced into churches and places 
 of religious worship, and thus gave to the painter something like the same power- 
 ful motive for exertion, which had produced excellence in the sculpture of the 
 Greeks so many centuries before. This motive, it is true, was at first slow in its 
 
C oncluding Essap , <^c. 2 93 
 
 operation, owing to the general ignorance which followed the triumphs of barbarous 
 courage over voluptuous civilization in the conquest of the Roman empire; but at 
 length it produced Raphael, Correggio, and Titian, and all the great painters, whose 
 works illuminate, with unrivalled splendour, the gi’eater part of the fourteenth and 
 fifteenth centuries. But the simplicity of Protestant worship, which dreaded that 
 again the mere representation might be superstitiously mistaken for the reality, re- 
 jected all pictures from places consecrated to the praise and service^ of God, and 
 painting declined, as sculptures had done before, for want of motive, and is now 
 acknowledged to be in a languid state. 
 
 Suppose, then, you endeavour to give the art a new^ stimulus to great exertions ; 
 for, it is evident, at least to me, that patronage is not w'anting; Let me then per- 
 suade you, from a patriotic feeling, to bestow all the time you devote to these arts 
 in embellishing the bright records of our national history, in shewing the heroism, 
 the talents, the worth, and the power that arise out of British freedom : you may shew 
 the early inhabitants of the island defending with undaunted courage their native 
 shores against the disciplined conquerors of the world ; you may represent the 
 magnanimous Queen of the Iceni, nobly preferring death to bondage; you may ex- 
 hibit the incomparable Alfred, great in adversity, humble, yet vigorous in trium- 
 phant success, or, in the tranquillity of well-earned retirement, devising new and 
 wii^e laws to bless his people. I would thus have you to follow the pages of our 
 history down to these present days, if you can look without being dazzled at the 
 splended brightness of our last great national achievements. I recommend this to 
 you — I entreat it of you in the name of your country — a name so dear to British 
 feelings. 
 
 However, if this motive should not prove sufficiently powerful, even with the aid 
 of your successful example, to raise the drooping arts in this country, and carry 
 them to unexampled perfection, I would beg leave to propose to you another motive, 
 wliich 1 trust will be irresistible ; you will find it in the practice of painting sacred, 
 or scripture history. The subjects with which the Holy Scriptures will furnish you 
 are all of the beautiful ov grand, because no circumstances are recorded in them, but 
 such as have an eventful importance. If you prefer the beautiful to all other, 
 you will find ample subject in the simple, heart-touching Book of Ruth, which has 
 
294 
 
 Concluding Essay, 
 
 been dexterously copied by Thomson in his Seasons, though he has divested it of 
 some of its most interesting circumstances : if you wish for subjects of impressive 
 grandeur, they are to be found in every part of the sacred writings. The venerable 
 Moses standing on the banks of the Red Sea, and with his endowed rod dividing 
 the water for a whole nation to pass through on dry ground, with the terrors, the 
 affections, and circumstances, incidental to so novel a miracle, would afford matter 
 for many pictures ; or the defeat of the Amalekites, by Joshua, while the sun and 
 moon were ordered to stand still till his victory was accomplished, might offer to 
 your pencils one of the finest opportunities of combining a splendid landscape 
 effect with a striking display of figures. 
 
 But I would prefer hastening your consideration to that part of these writings, 
 which gives the history of man’s redemption. You will find in it for the purposes 
 of picture, every thing that is tender in sentiment, every thing that is striking in 
 combination, every thing that is awful in instruction. If you can be the instruments 
 of embodying and communicating this, in visible demonstrations to others, what 
 may not be the amount of gratification to your own minds. You will rise step 
 by step in subjects of this class, till you arrive at a grandeur of conception and 
 performance that will even astonish yourselves. 
 
 In conclusion, allow me to trust, that you will make serious use of the valuable 
 Treatise now presented to you, and that you will direct the knowledge, which it 
 may afford you, to the important purposes of judicious criticism, or the still more 
 desirable object of actual and splendid achievement. 
 
 Charlotte Street, 
 June 4, 1816. 
 
 W. M. CRAIG. 
 
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