THE ART OF PAINTING; (continued 2)

THE ART OF PAINTING.

The passages which you see marked with an asterism * are more amply explained in the remarks.

Painting and Poesy are two sisters, which are so like in all things, that they mutually lend to each other, both their name and office. One is called a dumb poesy, and the other a speaking picture. The poets have never said any thing, but what they believed 5. would please the ears. And it has been the constant endeavour of the painters to give pleasure to the eyes. In short, those things which the poets have thought unworthy of their pens, the painters have judged to be unworthy of their pencils. * For both “those arts, that they might advance the sacred honours of religion,” have raised themselves to heaven; and, having found a free admission into 10. the palace of Jove himself, have enjoyed the sight and conversation of the gods; whose “awful majesty they observe, and whose dictates they communicate to mankind;” whom at the same time they inspire with those celestial flames, which shine so gloriously in their works. From heaven they take their passage through the world; and “with concurring studies” collect whatsoever they find worthy of them. * They dive (as I may say) into 15. all past ages; and search their histories, for subjects which are proper for their use: with care avoiding to treat of any but those which, by their nobleness, or by some remarkable accident, have deserved to be consecrated to eternity; whether on the seas, or earth, or in the heavens. And by this their care and study, it comes to pass, that the 20. glory of heroes is not extinguished with their lives; and that those admirable works, those prodigies of skill, which even yet are the objects of our admiration, are still preserved. * So much these divine arts have been almost honoured; and such authority they preserve amongst mankind. It will not here 25. be necessary to implore the succour of Apollo, and the muses, for the gracefulness of the discourse, or for the cadence of the verses; which, containing only precepts, have not so much need of ornament, as of perspicuity.

I pretend not in this treatise to tie the hands of 30. artists, “whom practice only directs;” neither would I stifle the genius, by a jumbled heap of rules; nor extinguish the fire of a vein which is lively and abundant. But rather to make this my business, that art being strengthened by the knowledge of things, may at length pass into nature by slow degrees; and so in process of time, may be 35. sublimed into a pure genius, which is capable of choosing judiciously what is true; and of distinguishing betwixt the beauties of nature, and that which is low and mean in her; and that this original genius, by long exercise and custom, may perfectly possess all the rules and secrets of that art.

Precept I. Of what is beautiful.

* The principal and most important part of painting, is to find out, and thoroughly to understand, what nature has made most beautiful, and most proper to this art; * and that a choice of it may be made according to the taste and manner of the 40. ancients; * without which, all is nothing but a blind and rash barbarity; which rejects what is most beautiful, and seems, with an audacious insolence, to despise an art, of which it is wholly ignorant; which has occasioned these words of the ancients: “That no man is so bold, so rash, and so overweening of his own works, as an ill painter, and a bad poet, who are not conscious to themselves of their own ignorance.”

* We love what we understand; we desire what 45. we love; we pursue the enjoyment of those things which we desire; and arrive at last to the possession of what we have pursued, if we warmly persist in our design. In the mean time, we ought not to expect, that blind fortune should infallibly throw into our hands those beauties; for though we may light by chance on some which are true and natural, yet they may prove either not to be decent, or not to be ornamental. Because it is not sufficient to imitate nature in every circumstance, 50. dully, and as it were literally, and minutely; but it becomes a painter to take what is most beautiful, * as being the sovereign judge of his own art; “what is less beautiful, or is faulty, he shall freely correct by the dint of his own genius,” * and permit no transient beauties to escape his observation.

II. Of theory and practice.

* In the same manner, that bare practice, destitute of the lights of art, is always subject to fall into a precipice, like a blind traveller, without being 55. able to produce any thing which contributes to a solid reputation; so the speculative part of painting, without the assistance of manual operation, can never attain to that perfection which is its object, but slothfully languishes as in a prison; for it was not with his tongue that Apelles performed his noble works. Therefore, 60. though there are many things in painting, of which no precise rules are to be given, * (because the greatest beauties cannot always be expressed for want of terms,) yet I shall not omit to give some precepts, which I have selected from among the most considerable which we have received from nature, that exact school-mistress, after having examined her most secret recesses, as well as * those master-pieces of antiquity, which were the chief examples of this art; and it is by this means, that the mind and the natural disposition 65. are to be cultivated, and that science perfects genius; * and also moderates that fury of the fancy which cannot contain itself within the bounds of reason; but often carries a man into dangerous extremes. For there is a mean in all things; and certain limits or bounds wherein the good and the beautiful consist, and out of which they never can depart.

III. Concerning the subject.

This being premised, the next thing is to make choice of * a subject beautiful and noble; which being of itself capable of all the charms and graces, 70. that colours, and the elegance of design, can possibly give, shall afterwards afford, to a perfect and consummate art, an ample field of matter wherein to expatiate itself; to exert all its power, and to produce somewhat to the sight, which is excellent, judicious, * and ingenious; and at the same time proper to instruct, and to enlighten the understanding.

“At length I come to the work itself; and at 75. first, find only a bare strained canvas, on which the sketch is to be disposed by the strength of a happy imagination;” * which is what we properly call invention. *

Invention the first part of painting.

* Invention is a kind of muse, which, being possessed of the other advantages common to her sisters, and being warmed by the fire of Apollo, is raised higher than the rest, and shines with a more glorious and brighter flame.

IV. The disposition, or œconomy of the whole work.

* It is the business of a painter, in his choice of attitudes, to foresee the effect and harmony of the lights and shadows, with the colours which are to enter into the whole; taking from each of them, that which will most conduce to the production of 80. a beautiful effect.

V. The faithfulness of the subject.

* Let “there be a genuine and lively expression of the subject,” conformable to the text of ancient authors, to customs, and to times.

VI. Whatsoever palls the subject to be rejected.

“Whatever is trivial, foreign, or improper, ought by no means to take up the principal part of the picture.” * But herein imitate the sister of painting, Tragedy; which employs the whole forces of her art in the main action. 85.

* This part of painting, so rarely met with, is neither to be acquired by pains or study, nor by the precepts or dictates of any master. For they alone who have been inspired at their birth with 90. some portion of that heavenly fire, * which was stolen by Prometheus, are capable of receiving so divine a present.

Painting in Egypt was at first rude and imperfect, till being brought into Greece, * and being cultivated by the study and sublime genius of that 95. nation, * it arrived at length to that height of perfection, that it seemed to surpass even original nature.

Amongst the academies, which were composed by the rare genius of those great men, these four are reckoned as the principal: namely, the Athenian school, that of Sicyon, that of Rhodes, and that of Corinth. These were little different from each other, only in the manner of their work; as it may 100. be seen by the ancient statues, which are the rule of beauty and gracefulness; and to which succeeding ages have produced nothing that is equal; “or indeed that is not very much inferior, both in science, and in the manner of its execution.”

VII. Design, the second part of painting.

* An attitude therefore must be chosen, according to their taste: * the parts of it must be great and large, * “contrasted by contrary motions; the 105. most noble parts foremost in sight, and each figure carefully poised on its own centre.”

* “The parts must be drawn with flowing, gliding outlines, large and smooth, rising gradually, not swelling suddenly, but which may be just felt in the statues, or cause a little relievo in painting. 110. Let the muscles have their origin and insertion, * according to the rules of anatomy; let them not be subdivided into small sections, but kept as entire as possible, * in imitation of the Greek forms, and expressing only the principal muscles.” In fine, * let there be a perfect relation betwixt the parts and the whole, that they may be entirely of a piece. 115.

Let the part which produces another part, be more strong than that which it produces; and let the whole be seen by one point of sight. * Though perspective cannot be called a perfect ruler “for designing,” yet it is a great succour to art, and facilitates the “dispatch of the work:” though frequently 120. falling into error, it makes us behold things under a false aspect; for bodies are not always represented according to the geometrical plane, but such as they appear to the sight.

VIII. Variety in the figures.

Neither the shape of faces, nor the age, nor the colour, ought to be alike in all figures, any more 125. than the hair; because men are as different from each other, as the regions in which they are born are different.

IX. The members and drapery of every figure to be suitable to it.

X. The actions of mutes to be imitated.

* Let every member be made for its own head, and agree with it; and let all together compose but one body, with the draperies which are proper and suitable to it. And, above all, * let the figures to which art cannot give a voice, imitate the mutes in their actions.

XI. Of the principal figure of the subject.

* Let the principal figure of the subject appear in the middle of the piece, under the strongest light, 130. that it may have somewhat to make it more remarkable than the rest; and that the figures which accompany it, may not steal it from our sight.

XII. Groups of figures.

* Let the “parts be brought together, and the figures disposed in groups:” and let those groups be separated by a void space, to avoid a confused 135. heap; which proceeding from parts that are dispersed without any regularity, and entangled one within another, divides the sight into many rays, and causes a disagreeable confusion.

XIII. The diversity of attitudes in the groups.

* The figures in the groups ought not to “have the same inflections of the body, nor the same motions; nor should they lean all one way, but break 140. the symmetry, by proper oppositions and contrasts.

“To several figures seen in front oppose others with the back toward the spectator; that is, the shoulders of some opposed to the breasts of others, and right limbs to left, whether the piece consists of many figures, or but of few.” 145.

XIV. Equality of the piece.

* One side of the picture must not be void, while the other is filled to the borders; but let matters be so well disposed, that if “any thing rises high on one side of the piece, you may raise 150. something to answer it on the other,” so that they shall appear in some sort equal.

XV. Of the number of figures.

* As a play is seldom very good, in which there are too many actors; so it is very seldom seen, and almost impossible to perform, that a picture should be perfect, in which there are too great a 155. number of figures. How “should they excel in putting several figures together, who can scarce excel in a single one?”

“Many dispersed objects breed confusion, and take away from the picture that solemn majesty, and agreeable repose, which give beauty to the piece, and satisfaction to the sight. But if you are 160. constrained by the subject to admit of many figures, you must then make the whole to be seen together, and the effect of the work at one view; and not every thing separately, and in particular.”

XVI. Of the joints and feet.

* The extremities of the joints must be seldom hidden; and the extremities or end of the feet never.

XVII. The motions of the hands and head must agree.

* The figures which are behind others, have neither grace nor vigour, unless the motions of the hands accompany those of the head. 165.

XVIII. What must be avoided in the distribution of the figures.

Avoid “all odd aspects or positions, and all ungraceful or forced actions and motions.” Show no parts which are unpleasing to the sight, as all foreshortenings usually are.

* Avoid all those lines and outlines which are equal; which make parallels, or other sharp-pointed and geometrical figures; such as are squares and 170. triangles: all which by being too exact, give to the eye a certain displeasing symmetry, which produces no good effect. But, as I have already told you, the principal lines ought to contrast each other: for which reason, in these outlines, you ought to have a special regard to the whole together: for it 175. is from thence that the beauty and force of the parts proceed.

XIX. That we must not tie ourselves to nature; but accommodate her to our genius.

* Be not so strictly tied to nature, that you allow nothing to study, and the bent of your own genius. But on the other side, believe not that your genius alone, and the remembrance of those things which you have seen, can afford you wherewithal to furnish out a beautiful piece, without the succour of that incomparable school-mistress, Nature; * whom you must have always present as a witness to the truth. “Errors are infinite,” and, amongst many ways which 180. mislead a traveller, there is but one true one, which conducts him surely to his journey’s end; as also there are many several sorts of crooked lines; but there is one only which is straight.

XX. Ancient figures the rules of imitating nature.

Our business is to imitate the beauties of nature, as the ancients have done before us, and as the object and nature of the thing require from us. And for 185. this reason, we must be careful in the search of ancient medals, statues, gems, vases, paintings, and basso relievos: * And of all other things which discover to us the thoughts and inventions of the Grecians; because they furnish us with great ideas, and make our productions wholly beautiful. And 190. in truth, after having well examined them, we shall therein find so many charms, that we shall pity the destiny of our present age, without hope of ever arriving at so high a point of perfection.

XXI. A single figure how to be treated.

* If you have but one single figure to work upon, you ought to make it perfectly finished, and diversified with many colours.

XXII. Of the draperies.

* Let the draperies be nobly spread upon the body; let the folds be large, * and let them follow 195. the order of the parts, that they may be seen underneath, by means of the lights and shadows; notwithstanding that the parts should be often traversed (or crossed) by the flowing of the folds, which loosely encompass them, * without sitting too straight upon them; but let them mark the 200. parts which are under them, so as in some manner to distinguish them, by the judicious ordering of the lights and shadows. * And if the parts be too much distant from each other, so that there be void spaces, which are deeply shadowed, we are then to take occasion to place in those voids some fold to make a joining of the parts. 205. “* And as those limbs and members which are expressed by few and large muscles, excel in majesty and beauty,” in the same manner the beauty of the draperies consists not in the multitude of the folds, but in their natural order, and plain simplicity. The quality of the persons is also to be considered in the drapery. * As supposing them to be magistrates, their draperies ought to be large and ample; if country clowns, or slaves, they ought to be coarse and short; * if ladies, or damsels, light and 210. soft. It is sometimes requisite to draw out, as it were from the hollows and deep shadows, some fold, and give it a swelling, that so receiving the light, it may contribute to extend the clearness to those places where the body requires it; and by this means we shall disburthen the piece of those hard shadowings, which are always ungraceful.

XXIII. What things contribute to adorn the picture.

* The marks or ensigns of virtues contribute not 215. little, by their nobleness, to the ornament of the figures. Such, for example, as are the decorations belonging to the liberal arts, to war, or sacrifices.

XXIV. Of precious stones and pearl for ornaments.

* But let not the work be too much enriched with gold or jewels; “for the abundance of them makes them look cheap; their value arising from the scarcity.”

XXV. The model.

* It is very expedient to make a model of those things, which we have not in our sight, and whose 220. nature is difficult to be retained in the memory.

XXVI. The scene of the picture.

* We are to consider the places where we lay the scene of the picture; the countries where they were born, whom we represent; the manner of their actions, their laws, and customs, and all that is properly belonging to them.

XXVII. The graces and the nobleness.

* Let a nobleness and grace be remarkable through all your work. But, to confess the truth, this is a most difficult undertaking; and a very rare present, which the artist receives rather from the hand of Heaven, than from his own industry and studies.

XXVIII. Let every thing be set in its proper place.

In all things you are to follow the order of nature; for which reason you must beware of drawing or painting clouds, winds, and thunder, towards the bottom of your piece, and hell, and waters, in the 225. uppermost parts of it; you are not to place a stone column on a foundation of reeds, but let every thing be set in its proper place.

XXIX. Of the passions.

Besides all this, you are to express the motions 230. of the spirits, and the affections or passions, whose centre is the heart; in a word, to make the soul visible, by the means of some few colours; * this is that in which the greatest difficulty consists. Few there are, whom Jupiter regards with a favourable eye in this undertaking; so that it appertains only to those few, who participate somewhat of divinity itself, to work these mighty wonders. It is the business of rhetoricians, 235. to treat the characters of the passions; and I shall content myself, with repeating what an excellent master has formerly said on this subject, that a “true and lively expression of the passions, is rather the work of genius, than of labour and study.”

XXX. Gothic ornaments are to be avoided.

Colouring the third part of painting.

We are to have no manner of relish for Gothic ornaments, 240. as being in effect so many monsters, which barbarous ages have produced; during which, when discord and ambition, caused by the too large extent of the Roman empire, had produced wars, plagues, and famine, through the world, then I say, the stately buildings and colosses fell to ruin, and the nobleness of all beautiful arts was totally extinguished. Then it was that the admirable, and 245. almost supernatural, works of painting were made fuel for the fire; but that this wonderful art might not wholly perish, * some relicts of it took sanctuary under ground, “in sepulchres and catacombs,” and thereby escaped the common destiny. And in the same profane age, sculpture was for a long time buried under the same ruins, with all its beautiful productions and admirable statues. The empire, in the mean time, under the weight of its proper crimes, and undeserving to enjoy the day, was enveloped 250. with a hideous night, which plunged it into an abyss of errors, and covered with a thick darkness of ignorance those unhappy ages, in just revenge of their impieties. From hence it comes to pass, that the works of those great Grecians are wanting to us; nothing of their painting and colouring now remains to assist our modern artists, either in the invention, or the manner, of those ancients. Neither is there any man who is able to restore * the 255. chromatic part, or colouring, or to renew it to that point of excellency, to which it had been carried by Zeuxis; who by this part, which is so charming, so magical, and which so admirably deceives the sight, made himself equal to the great Apelles, that prince of painters; and deserved that height 260. of reputation, which he still possesses in the world.

And as this part, which we may call the utmost perfection of painting, is a deceiving beauty, but withal soothing and pleasing; so she has been accused of procuring lovers for * her sister, and artfully engaging us to admire her. But so little have 265. this prostitution, these false colours, and this deceit, dishonoured painting, that, on the contrary, they have only served to set forth her praise, and to make her merit farther known; and therefore it will be profitable to us, to have a more clear understanding of what we call colouring.

* The light produces all kinds of colours, and the shadow gives us none. The more a body is nearer to the eyes, and the more directly it is opposed to them, the more it is enlightened. Because the light languishes and lessens, the farther it removes from its proper source.

The nearer the object is to the eyes, and the more 270. directly it is opposed to them, the better it is seen; because the sight is weakened by distance.

XXXI. The conduct of the tints of light and shadows.

It is therefore necessary, “that those parts of round bodies which are seen directly opposite to the spectator, should have the light entire;” and that the extremities turn, in losing themselves insensibly and confusedly, without precipitating the light all on the sudden into the shadow, or the shadow into 275. the light. But the passage of one into the other, must be common and imperceptible, that is, by degrees of lights into shadows, and of shadows into lights. And it is in conformity to these principles, that you ought to treat a whole group of figures, though it be composed of several parts, in the same 280. manner as you would do a single head: “or if the wideness of the space, or largeness of the composition, requires, that you should have two groups or three, * (which should be the most,) let the lights and shadows be so discreetly managed, * that light bodies may have a sufficient mass or breadth of shadow to sustain them, and that dark bodies may 285. have a sudden light behind to detach them from the ground.

* “As in a convex mirror, the collected rays strike stronger and brighter in the middle than upon the natural object, and the vivacity of the colours is increased in the parts full in your sight; * while the goings off are more and more broken and faint as they approach to the extremities, in the same manner 290. bodies are to be raised and rounded.”

Thus the painter and the sculptor are to work with one and the same intention, and with one and the same conduct. For what the sculptor strikes off, and makes round with his tool; the painter performs with his pencil, casting behind that which he makes less visible, by the diminution and breaking 295. of his colours: “That which is foremost and nearest to the eye, must be so distinctly expressed, as to be sharp, or almost cutting to the sight. Thus shall the colours be disposed upon a plane, which from a proper place and distance will seem so natural 300. and round, as to make the figures appear so many statues.

XXXII. Of dark bodies on light grounds.

“Solid bodies subject to the touch, are not to be 305. painted transparent; and even when such bodies are placed upon transparent grounds, as upon clouds, waters, air, and the like vacuities, they must be preserved opaque,⁠[142] that their solidity be not destroyed among those light, aërial, transparent species; and must therefore be expressed sharper and rougher than what is next to them, more distinct by a firm light and shadow, and with more solid and 310. substantial colours; that, on the contrary, the smoother and more transparent may be thrown off to a farther distance.”

XXXIII. That there must not be two equal lights in a picture.

We are never to admit two equal lights in the same picture, but the greater light must strike forcibly on the middle; and there extend its greatest clearness on those places of the picture, where the principal figures of it are, and where the 315. strength of the action is performed; diminishing by degrees as it comes nearer and nearer to the borders; and after the same manner, that the light of the sun languishes insensibly, in its spreading from the east, from whence it begins, towards the west, where it decays and vanishes; so the light of the picture being distributed over all the colours, will become less sensible the farther it is removed 320. from its original.

The experience of this is evident in those statues, which we see set up in the midst of public places, whose upper parts are more enlightened than the lower; and therefore you are to imitate them in the distribution of your lights.

Avoid strong shadows on the middle of the limbs, lest the great quantity of black which composes those shadows should seem to enter into them, and to cut them: rather take care to place 325. those shadowings round about them, thereby to heighten the parts; and take such advantageous lights, that after great lights great shadows may succeed. And therefore Titian said, with reason, that he knew no better rule for the distribution of the lights and shadows, than his observations drawn from a * bunch of grapes.

XXXIV. Of white and black.

* Pure, or unmixed white, either draws an object 330. nearer, or carries it off to farther distance; it draws it nearer with black, and throws it backward without it. * But as for pure black, there is nothing which brings the object nearer to the sight.

The light being altered by some colour, never fails to communicate somewhat of that colour to the bodies on which it strikes; and the same effect is performed by the medium of air, through which it passes.

XXXV. The reflection of colours.

The bodies which are close together, receive from 335. each other that colour which is opposite to them; and reflect on each other that, which is naturally and properly their own.

XXXVI. Union of colours.

It is also consonant to reason, that the greatest part of those bodies which are under a light, which is extended, and distributed equally through all, should participate of each others colours. The Venetian school having a great regard for that maxim, (which the ancients called the breaking of colours,) in the quantity of figures, with which 340. they fill their pictures, have always endeavoured the union of colours; for fear, that being too different, they should come to encumber the sight: “therefore they painted each figure with one colour, 345. or with colours of near affinity, though the habit were of different kinds, distinguishing the upper garment from the under, or from the loose and flowing mantle, by the tints, or degrees, harmonizing and uniting the colours, with whatever was next to them.”

XXXVII. On the interposition of air.

The less aërial space which there is betwixt us 350. and the object, and the more pure the air is, by so much the more the species are preserved and distinguished; and, on the contrary, the more space of air there is, and the less pure it is, so much the more the object is confused and embroiled.

XXXVIII. The relation of distances.

Those objects which are placed foremost to the view, ought always to be more finished, than those which are cast behind; and ought to have dominion over those things which are confused and transient. * But let this be done relatively, viz. one 355. thing greater and stronger, casting the less behind, and rendering it less sensible by its opposition.

XXXIX. Of bodies which are distanced.

Those things which are removed to a distant view, though they are many, yet ought to make but one mass; as for example, the leaves on the trees, and the billows in the sea.

XL. Of bodies which are contiguous, and of those which are separated.

Let not the objects which ought to be contiguous 360. be separated; and let those which ought to be separated, be apparently so to us; but let this be done by a small and pleasing difference.

XLI. Contrary extremities to be avoided.

* Let two contrary extremities never touch each other, either in colour or in light; but let there always be a medium partaking both of the one and of the other.

XLII. Diversity of tints and colours.

Let the bodies every where be of different tints and colours; that those which are behind may be tied in friendship together; and that those which are foremost may be strong and lively.

XLIII. The choice of light.

* It is labour in vain to paint a high-noon, or 365. mid-day light, in your picture; because we have no colours which can sufficiently express it; but it is better counsel, to choose a weaker light; such as is that of the evening with which the fields are gilded by the sun; or a morning light, whose whiteness is allayed; or that which appears after a shower of rain, which the sun gives us through the breaking of a cloud; or during thunder, when the clouds 370. hide him from our view, and make the light of a fiery colour.

XLIV. Of certain things relating to the practical part.

Smooth bodies, such as crystals, polished metals, wood, bones, and stones; those which are covered with hair, as skins, the beard, or the hair of the head; as also feathers, silks, and the eyes, which are of a watery nature; and those which are liquid, as waters, and those corporeal species, 375. which we see reflected by them; and in fine, all that which touches them, or is near them, ought to be “carefully painted flat, in flowing colours; then touched up with sprightly lights, and the true lines of the drawing restored, which were lost, or confused, in working the colours together.”

XLV. The field, or ground of the picture.

* Let the field, or ground of the picture, be pleasant, free, transient, light, and well united with colours, which are of a friendly nature to each other; and of such a mixture, as there may be 380. something in it of every colour that composes your work, as it were the contents of your palette. “And let those bodies that are back in the ground be painted with colours allied to those of the ground itself.”

XLVI. Of the vivacity of colours.

* Let your colours be lively, and yet not look (according to the painters’ proverb) as if they had been rubbed or sprinkled with meal; that is to say, let them not be pale.

* Let the parts which are nearest to us, and most raised, be strongly coloured, and as it were sparkling; and let those parts which are more remote from sight, and towards the borders, be more faintly touched.

XLVII. Of shadows.

* Let there be so much harmony, or consent, in 385. the masses of the picture, that all the shadowings may appear as if they were but one.

XLVIII. The picture to be of one piece.

* “Let the whole picture be of one piece, as if it were painted from one palette.”

XLIX. The looking-glass the painter’s best master.

* The looking-glass will instruct you in many beauties, which you may observe from nature; so will also those objects which are seen in an evening in a large prospect.

L. An half figure, or a whole one, before others.

If there be a half figure, or a whole one, to be set before the other figures, and placed nearer to the view, and next the light; or if it is to be painted in a great place, though at a distance from the eye; be sure on these occasions not to be sparing of great 390. lights, the most lively colours, nor the strongest shadows.

LI. A portrait.

* As for a portrait, or pictures by the life, you are to work precisely after nature, and to express what she shows you, working at the same time on those parts which are resembling to each 395. other: as for example, the eyes, the cheeks, the nostrils, and the lips: so that you are to touch the one, as soon as you have given a stroke of the pencil to the other, lest the interruption of time cause you to lose the idea of one part, which nature has produced to resemble the other; and thus imitating feature for feature, with a just and harmonious composition of the lights and shadows, and of the colours; and giving to the picture that liveliness, which the freedom and force of the pencil make appear, it may seem, the living hand of nature.

LII. The place of the picture.

The works which are painted to be seen near, in little or narrow places, must be very tender and well united with tints and colours; “let those which are to be seen at a distance, be varied with fiercer colours and stronger tints.

“Very large figures must have room enough, 400. and strong, or rather fierce colouring.”

LIII. Large lights.

* You are to “take the utmost care, that broad lights may be joined to a like breadth of shadows.”

LIV. What lights are requisite.

If the picture be set in a place which receives but little light, the colours must be very clear; as, on the contrary, very brown, if the place be 405. strongly enlightened, or in the open air.

LV. Things which are vicious in painting to be avoided.

Remember to avoid objects which are full of hollows, broken in pieces, little, and which are separated, or in parcels; shun also those things which are barbarous, shocking to the eye, and party-coloured, and which are all of an equal force of light and shadow; as also all things which are obscene, 410. impudent, filthy, unseemly, cruel, fantastical, poor, and wretched; and those things which are sharp to the feeling; in short, all things which corrupt their natural forms, by a confusion of their parts which are entangled in each other: “For the eyes have a horror for those things, which the hands will not condescend to touch.”

LVI. The prudential part of a painter.

But while you endeavour to avoid one vice, be cautious lest you fall into another; for “extremes are always vicious.” 415.

LVII. The idea of a beautiful piece.

LVIII. Advice to a young painter.

Those things which are beautiful in the utmost degree of perfection, according to the axiom of ancient painters, * ought to have somewhat of greatness in them, and their outlines to be noble; they must be disentangled, pure, and without alteration, clean, and knit together; composed of great parts, yet those but few in number. In fine, distinguished by bold colours; but of such as are related and 420. friendly to each other. And as it is a common saying, that “he who has begun well, has already performed half his work;” * so there is nothing more pernicious to a youth who is yet in the elements of painting, than to engage himself under the discipline of an ignorant master; who depraves his taste, by an infinite number of mistakes, of which his wretched works are full and thereby 425. makes him drink the poison, which infects him through all his future life.

Let him, who is yet but a beginner, not make so much haste to study after nature, every thing which he intends to imitate, as not in the mean time to learn proportions, the connection of the joints, and their outlines: and let him first have 430. well examined the excellent originals, and have thoroughly studied all the pleasing deceptions of his art; which he must be rather taught by a knowing master, than by practice; and by seeing him perform, without being contented only to hear him speak.

LIX. Art must be subservient to the painter.

* Search whatsoever is aiding to your art, and convenient; and avoid those things which are repugnant to it.

LX. Diversity and facility are pleasing.

* Bodies of divers natures, which are aggrouped (or combined) together, are agreeable and pleasant to the sight; * as also those things which seem to be slightly touched, and performed with ease; because 435. they are ever full of spirit, and appear to be animated with a kind of celestial fire. But we are not able to compass these things with facility, till we have for a long time weighed them in our judgment, and thoroughly considered them: by this means the painter shall be enabled to conceal the pains and study which his art and work have cost him, under a pleasing sort of deceit; for the greatest secret which belongs to art, is to hide it from the discovery of spectators.

LXI. The original must be in the head, and the copy on the cloth.

Never give the least touch with your pencil, till 440. you have well examined your design, and have settled your outlines; * nor till you have present in your mind a perfect idea of your work.

LXII. The compass to be in the eyes.

* Let the eye be satisfied in the first place, even against and above all other reasons, which beget difficulties in your art, which of itself suffers none; and let the compass be rather in your eyes, than in your hands.

LXIII. Pride an enemy to good painting.

* Profit yourself by the counsels of the knowing; 445. and do not arrogantly disdain to learn the opinion of every man concerning your work. All men are blind as to their own productions, and no man is capable of judging in his own cause. * But if you have no knowing friend to assist you with his advice, yet 450. length of time will never fail; it is but letting some weeks pass over your head, or at least some days, without looking on your work; and that intermission will faithfully discover to you the faults and beauties. Yet suffer not yourself to be carried away by the opinions of the vulgar, who often speak without knowledge; neither give up yourself altogether to them, and abandon wholly your own genius, so as lightly to change that which you have made; for he who has a windy head, and flatters himself with the empty hope of deserving the praise of the common people, (whose opinions are inconsiderate and changeable,) does but injure himself, and pleases no man.

LXIV. Know yourself.

Since every painter paints himself in his own 455. works, (so much is nature accustomed to produce her own likeness,) it is advantageous to him to know himself; * to the end that he may cultivate those talents which make his genius, and not unprofitably lose his time, in endeavouring to gain that, which she has refused 460. him. As neither fruits have the taste, nor flowers the beauty which is natural to them, when they are transplanted into an unkindly or foreign soil, and are forced to bear before their season, by an artificial heat; so it is in vain for the painter to sweat over his works, in spite of nature and of genius; for without them, it is impossible for him to succeed.

LXV. Perpetually practise, and do easily what you have conceived.

* While you meditate on these truths, and observe them diligently, by making necessary reflections on them; let the labour of the hand accompany the study of the brain; let the former second and support the latter; yet without blunting the 465. sharpness of your genius, and abating of its vigour by too much assiduity.

LXVI. The morning most proper for work.

* The morning is the best and most proper part of the day for your business; employ it therefore in the study and exercise of those things which require the greatest pains and application.

LXVII. Every day do something.

* Let no day pass over you, without a line.

LXVIII. The passions which are true and natural.

Observe, as you walk the streets, the airs of heads; the natural postures and expressions; which are always 470. the most free, the less they seem to be observed.

LXIX. Of table-books.

* Be ready to put into your table-book (which you must always carry about you) whatsoever you judge worthy of it: whether it be upon the earth, or in the air, or upon the waters, while the species of them is yet fresh in your imagination.

* Wine and good cheer are no great friends to 475. painting; they serve only to recreate the mind, when it is opprest and spent with labour; then indeed it is proper to renew your vigour by the conversation of your friends. Neither is a true painter naturally pleased with the fatigue of business, and particularly of the law, * but delights in the liberty which belongs to the bachelor’s estate. * Painting naturally withdraws from noise and tumult, and pleases itself in the enjoyment of a country retirement; because silence and solitude set an edge 480. upon the genius, and cause a greater application to work and study; and also serve to produce the ideas, which, so conceived, will be always present in the mind, even to the finishing of the work; the whole compass of which, the painter can at that time more commodiously form to himself, than at any other.

* Let not the covetous design of growing rich, 485. induce you to ruin your reputation, but rather satisfy yourself with a moderate fortune; and let your thoughts be wholly taken up with acquiring to yourself a glorious name, which can never perish, but with the world; and make that the recompense of your worthy labours.

* The qualities requisite to form an excellent painter, are, a true discerning judgment, a mind which is docible, a noble heart, a sublime sense of things, and fervour of soul; after which follow, health of body, a convenient share of fortune, the 490. flower of youth, diligence, an affection for the art, and to be bred under the discipline of a knowing master.

And remember, that whatsoever your subject be, whether of your own choice, or what chance or good fortune shall put into your hand, if you have not that genius, or natural inclination, which your art requires, you shall never arrive to perfection in it, even with all those great advantages which I have mentioned. For the wit and the manual operation are things vastly distant from each other. It is the influence of your stars, and the happiness of your genius, to which you must be obliged for the greatest beauties of your art.

Nay, even your excellencies sometimes will not 495. pass for such in the opinion of the learned, but only as things which have less of error in them; for no man sees his own failings; * and life is so short, that it is not sufficient for so long an art. Our strength fails us in our old age, when we begin to know somewhat; age oppresses us by the same degrees that it instructs us; and permits not, that our mortal members, which are frozen with our years, should retain the vigour and spirits of our youth.

LXX. The method of studies for a young painter.

* Take courage therefore, O ye noble youths! 500. you legitimate offspring of Minerva, who are born under the influence of a happy planet, and warmed with a celestial fire, which attracts you to the love of science! exercise, while you are young, your whole forces, and employ them with delight in an art, which requires a whole painter. Exercise them, I say, while your boiling youth supplies 505. you with strength, and furnishes you with quickness, and with vigour; while your mind, yet pure, and void of error, has not taken any ill habitude to vice; while yet your spirits are inflamed with the thirst of novelties, and your mind is filled with the first species of things which present themselves to young imagination, which it gives in keeping to your memory; and which your memory retains for length of time, by reason of the moisture wherewith at that age the brain abounds. * You will do well * to begin with geometry, and after having made some progress in it, * set yourself on designing after the ancient Greeks: * and cease 510. not day or night from labour, till, by your continual practice, you have gained an easy habitude of imitating them in their invention, and in their manner. * And when afterwards your judgment shall grow stronger, and come to its maturity with years, it will be very necessary to see and examine one after the other, and part by part, those works which have given so great a reputation to the masters of 515. the first form in pursuit of that method, which we have taught you here above, and according to the rules which we have given you; such are the Romans, the Venetians, the Parmesans, and the Bologneses. Amongst those excellent persons, Raphael 520. had the talent of invention for his share, by which he made as many miracles as he made pictures. In which is observed * a certain grace which was wholly natural and peculiar to him, and which none since him have been able to appropriate to themselves. Michael Angelo possessed powerfully the part of design, above all others. * Julio Romano (educated from his childhood among the muses) has opened to us the treasures of Parnassus: and in the poetry of painting has discovered to our eyes the most sacred mysteries of Apollo, and all 525. the rarest ornaments which that god is capable of communicating to those works that he inspires; which we knew not before, but only by the recital that the poets made of them. He seems to have painted those famous wars “in which fortune has crowned her triumphant heroes;” and those other glorious events which she has caused in all ages, even with more magnificence and nobleness, than when they were acted in the world.

“The shining eminence of Correggio consists in 530. his laying on ample broad lights encompassed with friendly shadows, and in a grand style of painting, with a delicacy in the management of colours.” And Titian understood so well the union of the masses, and the bodies of colours, the harmony of the tints and the disposition of the whole together, that he has deserved those honours and that wealth which were heaped upon him, together with that attribute of being sirnamed the divine painter. The laborious and diligent Annibal Caracci has taken from all those great persons already mentioned 535. whatsoever excellencies he found in them, and, as it were, converted their nourishment into his own substance.

LXXI. Nature and experience perfect art.

It is a great means of profiting yourself, to copy diligently those excellent pieces, and those beautiful designs; but Nature, which is present before your eyes, is yet a better mistress; for she augments the force and vigour of the genius, and she it is from whom art derives her ultimate perfection, 540. by the means of sure experience; * I pass in silence many things which will be more amply treated in the ensuing commentary.

And now considering that all things are subject to the vicissitude of time, and that they are liable to destruction by several ways, I thought I might reasonably take the boldness * to intrust to the muses (those lovely and immortal sisters of painting) these few precepts, which I have here made and collected of that art.

I employed my time in the study of this work at 545. Rome, while the glory of the Bourbon family, and the just avenger of his injured ancestors, the victorious Louis XIII. was darting his thunder on the Alps, and causing his enemies to feel the force of his unconquerable arms; while he, like another Gallic Hercules, born for the benefit and honour of his country, was griping the Spanish Geryon by the 550. throat, and at the point of strangling him.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE ART OF PAINTING OF CHARLES ALPHONSE DU FRESNOY.

The number at the head of every observation serves to find in the text the particular passage on which the observation was made.

†1.

Painting and Poesy are two sisters, &c. It is a received truth, that the arts have a certain relation to each other. “There is no art, (said Tertullian, in his Treatise of Idolatry,) which is not either the father, or the near relation of another.” And Cicero, in his oration for Archias the poet, says, “That the arts, which have respect to human life, have a kind of alliance amongst themselves, and hold each other (as we may say) by the hand.” But those arts, which are the nearest related, and claim the most ancient kindred with each other, are painting and poetry; and whosoever shall thoroughly examine them, will find them so much resembling one another, that he cannot take them for less than sisters.

They both follow the same bent, and suffer themselves to be rather carried away, than led by their secret inclinations, which are so many seeds of the Divinity. “There is a god within us, (says Ovid, in the beginning of his sixth book De Fastis, there speaking of the poets,) who by his agitation warms us.” And Suidas says, “That the famous sculptor Phidias, and Zeuxis that incomparable painter, were both of them transported by the same enthusiasm which gave life to all their works.” They both of them aim at the same end, which is imitation. Both of them excite our passions, and we suffer ourselves willingly to be deceived, both by the one and by the other; our eyes and souls are so fixed to them, that we are ready to persuade ourselves, that the painted bodies breathe, and that the fictions are truths. Both of them are set on fire by the great actions of heroes; and both endeavour to eternize them. Both of them, in short, are supported by the strength of their imagination, and avail themselves of those licences, which Apollo has equally bestowed on them, and with which their genius has inspired them:

As Horace tells us, in his “Art of Poetry.”

The advantage which painting possesses above poesy is this; that, amongst so great a diversity of languages, she makes herself understood by all the nations of the world; and that she is necessary to all other arts, because of the need which they have of demonstrative figures, which often give more light to the understanding than the clearest discourses we can make:

Horace in the same “Art of Poetry.”

†9.

“For both those arts that they might advance,” &c. Poetry, by its hymns and anthems; and Painting, by its statues, altar-pieces, and by all those decorations which inspire respect and reverence for our sacred mysteries, have been serviceable to religion. Gregory of Nice, after having made a long and beautiful description of Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac, says these words:—“I have often cast my eyes upon a picture, which represents this moving object, and could never withdraw them without tears. So well did the picture represent the thing itself, even as if the action were then passing before my sight.”

†24.

“So much these divine arts have been always honoured,” &c. “The greatest lords, whole cities, and their magistrates of old, (says Pliny, lib. xxxv.) took it for an honour to obtain a picture from the hands of those great ancient painters.” But this honour is much fallen of late amongst the French nobility: and if you will understand the cause of it, Vitruvius will tell you, that it comes from their ignorance of the charming arts, “Propter ignorantiam artis, virtutes obscurantur;” (in the Preface to his Fifth Book.) Nay more, we should see this admirable art fall into the last degree of contempt, if our mighty monarch, who yields in nothing to the magnanimity of Alexander the Great, had not shown as much love for painting as for valour in the wars; we daily see him encouraging this noble art, by the considerable presents which he makes to his chief painter.⁠[143] And he has also founded an academy for the progress and perfectionating of painting, which his first minister⁠[144] honours with his protection, his care, and frequent visits; insomuch that we might shortly see the age of Apelles reviving in our country, together with all the beauteous arts, if our generous nobility, who follow our incomparable king with so much ardour and courage in those dangers, to which he exposes his sacred person, for the greatness and glory of his kingdom, would imitate him in that wonderful affection, which he bears to all who are excellent in this kind. Those persons, who were the most considerable in ancient Greece, either for birth or merit, took a most particular care, for many ages, to be instructed in the art of painting; following that laudable and profitable custom, begun and established by the great Alexander, which was to learn how to design. And Pliny, who gives testimony to this, in the tenth chapter of his thirty-fifth book, tells us farther, (speaking of Pamphilius, the master of Apelles,) “That it was by the authority of Alexander, that, first at Sicyon, and afterwards through all Greece, the young gentlemen learned, before all other things, to design upon tablets of boxen-wood; and that the first place, among all the liberal arts, was given to painting.” And that which makes it evident, that they were very knowing in this art, is the love and esteem which they had for painters. Demetrius gave high testimonies of this, when he besieged the city of Rhodes; for he was pleased to employ some part of that time, which he owed to the care of his arms, in visiting Protogenes, who was then drawing the picture of Ialysus. “This Ialysus (says Pliny,) hindered King Demetrius from taking Rhodes, out of fear lest he should burn the pictures; and not being able to fire the town on any other side, he was pleased rather to spare the painting, than to take the victory, which was already in his hands.” Protogenes, at that time, had his painting-room in a garden out of the town, and very near the camp of the enemies, where he was daily finishing those pieces which he had already begun, the noise of soldiers not being capable of interrupting his studies. But Demetrius causing him to be brought into his presence, and asking him, what made him so bold as to work in the midst of enemies? he answered the king, “That he understood the war which he made was against the Rhodians, and not against the arts.” This obliged Demetrius to appoint him guards for his security, being infinitely pleased that he could preserve that hand, which by this means he saved from the barbarity and insolence of soldiers. Alexander had no greater pleasure than when he was in the painting-room of Apelles, where he commonly was found. And that painter once received from him a sensible testimony of love and esteem which that monarch had for him; for, having caused him to paint naked (by reason of her admirable beauty,) one of his concubines, called Campaspe, who had the greatest share in his affections, and perceiving that Apelles was wounded with the same fatal dart of beauty, he made a present of her to him. In that age, so great a deference was paid to painting, that they, who had any mastery in that art, never painted on any thing but what was portable from one place to another, and what could be secured from burning. “They took a particular care (says Pliny, in the place above cited,) not to paint any thing against a wall, which could only belong to one master, and must always remain in the same place, and for that reason could not be removed in case of an accidental fire. Men were not suffered to keep a picture, as it were in prison, on the walls. It dwelt in common in all cities, and the painter himself was respected as a common good to all the world.” See this excellent author, and you shall find, that the tenth chapter of his thirty-fifth book is filled with the praises of this art, and with the honours which were ascribed to it. You will there find, that it was not permitted to any but those of noble blood to profess it. Francis the First (as Vasari tells us,) was in love with painting to that degree, that he allured out of Italy all the best masters, that this art might flourish in his own kingdom: and, amongst others, Leonardo da Vinci, who, after having continued for some time in France, died at Fontainbleau in the arms of that great king, who could not behold his death without shedding tears over him. Charles the Fifth has adorned Spain with the noblest pictures which are now remaining in the world. Ridolphi, in his Life of Titian, says, “That emperor one day took up a pencil which fell from the hand of that artist, who was then drawing his picture; and upon the compliment which Titian made him on this occasion, he said these words:—“Titian has deserved to be served by Cæsar.” And in the same Life, it is remarkable, “That the emperor valued himself not so much in subjecting kingdoms and provinces, as that he had been thrice made immortal by the hand of Titian.” If you will but take the pains to read this famous Life in Ridolphi, you will there see the relation of all those honours which he received from Charles the Fifth. It would take up too much time here to recount all the particulars; I will only observe, that the greatest lords, who composed the court of that emperor, not being able to refrain from some marks of jealousy, upon the preference which he made of the person and conversation of Titian, to that of all his other courtiers, he freely told them, “That he could never want a court, or courtiers; but he could not have Titian always with him.” Accordingly, he heaped riches on him; and whensoever he sent him money, which, ordinarily speaking, was a great sum, he always did it with this obliging testimony, “That his design was not to pay him the value of his pictures, because they were above any price.” After the example of the worthies of antiquity, who bought the rarest pictures with bushels of gold, without counting the weight or the number of the pieces. “In nummo aureo, mensurâ accepit, non numero,” says Pliny, speaking of Apelles. Quinctilian infers from hence, “that there is nothing more noble than the art of painting;” because other things, for the most part, are merchandize, and bought at certain rates: “Most things for this very reason (says he,) are vile, because they have a price;” “Pleraque hoc ipso possunt videri vilia, quod pretium habent.” (See the 34th, 35th, and 36th Books of Pliny.) Many great persons have loved it with an extreme passion, and have exercised themselves in it with delight. Amongst others, Lælius Fabius, one of those famous Romans, who, (as Cicero relates,) after he had tasted painting, and had practised it, would be called Fabius Pictor; as also Turpilius, a Roman knight; Labeo, prætor and consul; Quintus Pedius; the poets Ennius and Pacuvius; Socrates, Plato, Metrodorus, Pyrrho, Commodus, Nero, Vespasian, Alexander, Severus, Antoninus, and many other kings and emperors, who thought it not below their majesty to employ some part of their time in this honourable art.

†37.

“The principal and most important part of painting, is to find out, and thoroughly to understand, what nature hath made most beautiful, and most proper to this art,” &c. Observe here the rock on which the greatest part of the Flemish painters have split: most of that nation know how to imitate nature, at least as well as the painters of other countries; but they make a bad choice in nature itself; whether it be, that they have not seen the ancient pieces, to find those beauties; or that a happy genius, and the beautiful nature, is not of the growth of their country. And to confess the truth, that which is naturally beautiful is so very rare, that it is discovered by few persons; it is difficult to make a choice of it, and to form to ourselves such an idea of it, as may serve us for a model.

†39.

“And that a choice of it may be made according to the gust and manner of the ancients,” &c. That is to say, according to the statues, the basso-relievos, and the other ancient pieces, as well of the Grecians as of the Romans. Ancient (or antic) is that which has been made from the time of Alexander the Great, till that of Phocas; during whose empire the arts were ruined by war. These ancient works from their beginning have been the rule of beauty: and in effect, the authors of them have been so careful to give them that perfection, which is still to be observed in them, that they made use not only of one single body, whereby they formed them, but of many, from which they took the most regular parts to compose from them a beautiful whole. “The sculptors,” says Maximus Tyrius, in his 7th dissertation, “with admirable artifice, chose out of many bodies those parts which appeared to them the most beautiful; and out of that diversity made but one statue: but this mixture is made with so much prudence and propriety, that they seem to have taken but one only perfect beauty. And let us not imagine that we can ever find one natural beauty, which can dispute with statues that art, which has always somewhat more perfect than nature.” It is also to be presumed, that in the choice which they made of those parts, they followed the opinion of the physicians, who at that time were very capable of instructing them in the rules of beauty; since beauty and health ordinarily follow each other. “For beauty,” says Galen, “is nothing else but a just accord, and mutual harmony of the members, animated by a healthful constitution. And men,” says the same author, “commend a certain statue of Polycletus, which they call the rule, and which deserves that name, for having so perfect an agreement in all its parts, and a proportion so exact, that it is not possible to find a fault in it.” From what I have quoted, we may conclude, that the ancient pieces are truly beautiful, because they resemble the beauties of nature; and that nature will ever be beautiful which resembles those beauties of antiquity. It is now evident upon what account none have presumed to contest the proportion of those ancient pieces; and that, on the contrary, they have always been quoted as models of the most perfect beauty. Ovid, in the twelfth book of his “Metamorphoses,” where he describes Cyllarus, the most beautiful of all the Centaurs, says, “That he had so great a vivacity in his countenance, his neck, his shoulders, his hands, and stomach, were so fair, that it is certain the manly part of him was as beautiful as the most celebrated statues.” And Philostratus, in his “Heroics,” speaking of Protesilaus, and praising the beauty of his face, says, “That the form of his nose was square, as if it had been of a statue.” And in another place, speaking of Euphorbus, he says, “That his beauty had gained the affections of all the Greeks; and that it resembled so nearly the beauty of a statue, that one might have taken him for Apollo.” Afterwards also, speaking of the beauty of Neoptolemus, and of his likeness to his father Achilles, he says, “That, in beauty, his father had the same advantage over him, as statues have over the beauty of living men.”

This ought to be understood of the fairest statues; for amongst the multitude of sculptors which were in Greece and Italy, it is impossible but some of them must have been bad workmen, or rather less good; for though their works were much inferior to the artists of the first form, yet somewhat of greatness is to be seen in them, and somewhat of harmonious in the distribution of their parts, which makes it evident, that, at that time, they wrought on common principles; and that every one of them availed himself of those principles, according to his capacity and genius. Those statues were the greatest ornaments of Greece. We need only open the book of Pausanias to find the prodigious quantity of them, whether within or without their temples, or in the crossing of streets, or in the squares and public places, or even the fields, or on the tombs. Statues were erected to the muses, to the nymphs, to heroes, to great captains, to magistrates, philosophers, and poets; in short, they were set up to all those who had made themselves eminent, either in defence of their country, or for any noble action which deserved a recompence; for it was the most ordinary and most authentic way, both amongst the Greeks and Romans, thus to testify their gratitude. The Romans, when they had conquered Græcia, transported from thence not only their most admirable statues, but also brought along with them the most excellent of their sculptors, who instructed others in their art, and have left to posterity the immortal examples of their knowledge, which we see confirmed by those curious statues, those vases, those basso-relievos, and those beautiful columns called by the names of Trajan and Antonine. These are those beauties which our author proposes to us for our models, and the true fountains of science, out of which both painters and statuaries are bound to draw for their own use, without amusing themselves with dipping in streams which are often muddy, at least troubled; I mean the manner of their masters, after whom they creep, and from whom they are unwilling to depart, either through negligence, or through the meanness of their genius. “It belongs only to heavy minds,” says Cicero, “to spend their time on streams, without searching for the springs, from whence their materials flow in all manner of abundance.”

†40.

“Without which, all is nothing but a blind and rash barbarity,” &c. All that has nothing of the ancient gusto, is called a barbarous or Gothic manner, which is not conducted by any rule, but only follows a wretched fancy, which has nothing in it that is noble. We are here to observe, that painters are not obliged to follow the antique as exactly as the sculptors; for then the picture would savour too strongly of the statue, and would seem to be without motion. Many painters, and some of the ablest amongst them, believing they do well, and taking that precept in too literal a sense, have fallen thereby into great inconveniencies. It therefore becomes the painters to make use of those ancient patterns with discretion, and to accommodate the nature to them in such a manner, that their figures, which must seem to live, may rather appear to be models for the antique, than the antique a model for their figures.

It appears, that Raphael made a perfect use of this conduct; and that the Lombard school have not precisely searched into this precept any farther, than to learn from thence how to make a good choice of the nature, and to give a certain grace and nobleness to all their works, by the general and confused idea which they had of what is beautiful. As for the rest, they are sufficiently licentious, excepting only Titian, who, of all the Lombards, has preserved the greatest purity in his works. This barbarous manner, of which I spoke, has been in great vogue from the year 611 to 1450. They who have restored painting in Germany (not having seen any of those fair relics of antiquity,) have retained much of that barbarous manner. Amongst others, Lucas van Leyden, a very laborious man, who, with his scholars, has infected almost all Europe with his designs for tapestry, which, by the ignorant, are called ancient hangings, (a greater honour than they deserve;) these, I say, are esteemed beautiful by the greatest part of the world. I must acknowledge, that I am amazed at so gross a stupidity, and that we of the French nation should have so barbarous a taste as to take for beautiful those flat, childish, and insipid tapestries. Albert Durer, that famous German, who was contemporary to that Lucas, has had the like misfortune to fall into that absurd manner, because he had never seen any thing that was beautiful. Observe what Vasari tells us, in the Life of Marc Antonio, (Raphael’s graver,) having first commended Albert for his skill in graving, and his other talents:—“And in truth,” says he, “if this so excellent, so exact, and so universal a man, had been born in Tuscany, as he was in Germany, and had formed his studies according to those beautiful pieces which are seen at Rome, as the rest of us have done, he had proved the best painter of all Italy, as he was the greatest genius, and the most accomplished which Germany ever bore.”

†45.

“We love what we understand,” &c. This period informs us, that though our inventions are never so good, though we are furnished by nature with a noble genius, and though we follow the impulse of it, yet this is not enough, if we learn not to understand what is perfect and beautiful in nature; to the end, that, having found it, we may be able to imitate it, and by this instruction we may be capacitated to observe those errors which she herself has made, and to avoid them, so as not to copy her in all sorts of subjects, such as she appears to us, without choice or distinction.

†50.

“As being the sovereign judge of his own art,” &c. This word, sovereign judge, or arbiter of his own art, presupposes a painter to be fully instructed in all the parts of painting; so that being set as it were above his art, he may be the master and sovereign of it, which is no easy matter. Those of that profession are so seldom endowed with that supreme capacity, that few of them arrive to be good judges of painting; and I should many times make more account of their judgment, who are men of sense, and yet have never touched a pencil, than of the opinion which is given by the greatest part of painters. All painters, therefore, may be called arbiters of their own art; but to be sovereign arbiters, belongs only to knowing painters.

†52.

“And permit no transient beauties to escape his observation,” &c. Those fugitive or transient beauties, are no other than such as we observe in nature, with a short and transient view, and which remain not long in their subjects. Such are the passions of the soul. There are of this sort of beauties which last but for a moment; as the different airs of an assembly upon the sight of an unexpected and uncommon object, some particularity of a violent passion, some graceful action, a smile, a glance of an eye, a disdainful look, a look of gravity, and a thousand other such-like things; we may also place in the catalogue of these flying beauties, fine clouds, such as ordinarily follow thunder, or a shower of rain.

†54.

“In the same manner that bare practice, destitute of the lights of art,” &c. We find in Quinctilian, that Pythagoras said, “The theory is nothing without the practice.” “And what means,” says the younger Pliny, “have we to retain what has been taught us, if we put it not in practice?” We would not allow that man to be an orator, who had the best thoughts imaginable, and who knew all the rules of rhetoric, if he had not acquired, by exercise, the art of using them, and of composing an excellent discourse. Painting is a long pilgrimage, what avails it to make all the necessary preparatives for our voyage, or to inform ourselves of all the difficulties in the road? If we do not actually begin the journey, and travel at a round rate, we shall never arrive at the end of it. And as it would be ridiculous to grow old in the study of every necessary thing in an art, which comprehends so many several parts; so, on the other hand, to begin the practice without knowing the rules, or at least with a light tincture of them, is to expose ourselves to the scorn of those who can judge of painting, and to make it apparent to the world that we have no care of our reputation. Many are of opinion, that we need only work, and mind the practical part, to become skilful and able painters; and that the theory only encumbers the mind, and ties the hand. Such men do just like the squirrel, who is perpetually turning the wheel in her cage; she runs apace, and wearies herself with her continual motion, and yet gets no ground. “It is not enough for doing well to walk apace,” says Quinctilian, “but it is enough for walking apace to do well.” It is a bad excuse to say, I was but a little while about it. That graceful easiness, that celestial fire which animates the work, proceeds not so much from having often done the like, as from having well understood what we have done. See what I shall farther say, on the 60th rule, which concerns easiness. Others there are, who believe precepts and speculation to be of absolute necessity; but as they were ill instructed, and what they knew, rather entangled, than cleared their understanding, so they oftentimes turn short; and if they perform a work, it is not without anxiety and pain. And in truth, they are so much the more worthy of compassion, because their intentions are right; and if they advance not in knowledge as far as others, and are sometimes cast behind, yet they are grounded upon some sort of reason; for it is belonging to good sense, not to go over fast, when we apprehend ourselves to be out of the way, or even where we doubt which way we ought to take. Others, on the contrary, being well instructed in good maxims, and in the rules of art, after having done fine things, yet spoil them all, by endeavouring to make them better, which is a kind of overdoing; and they are so intoxicated with their work, and with an earnest desire of being above all others, that they suffer themselves to be deceived with the appearance of an imaginary good. “Apelles, one day admiring the prodigious labour which he saw in a picture of Protogenes, and knowing how much sweat it must have cost him, said, that Protogenes and himself were of equal strength; nay, that he yielded to him, in some parts of painting; but in this he surpassed him, that Protogenes never knew when he had done well, and could never hold his hand. He also added, in the nature of a precept, that he wished all painters would imprint this lesson deeply in their memory, that with overstraining and earnestness of finishing their pieces, they often did them more harm than good.”⁠[145] “There are some,” says Quinctilian, “who never satisfy themselves, never are contented with their first notions and expressions, but are continually changing all, till nothing remains of their first ideas. Others there are,” continues he, “who dare never trust themselves, nor resolve on any thing; and who being, as it were, entangled in their own genius, imagine it to be a laudable correctness, when they form difficulties to themselves in their own work. And, to speak the truth, it is hard to discern, whether of the two is in the greatest error; he, who is enamoured of all he does; or he, whom nothing of his own can please. For it has happened to young men, and often even to those of the greatest wit, to waste their spirits, and to consume themselves with anxiety and pain of their own giving, so far as even to doze upon their work with too much eagerness of doing well. I will now tell you, how a reasonable man ought to carry himself on this occasion. It is certain, that we ought to use our best endeavour to give the last perfection to our works; yet it is always to be understood, that we attempt no more than what is in the compass of our genius, and according to our vein. For, to make a true progress, I grant that diligence and study are both requisite; but this study ought to have no mixture, either of self-opinion, obstinacy, or anxiety; for which reason, if it blows a happy gale, we must set up all our sails, though in so doing it sometimes happens, that we follow those motions where our natural heat is more powerful than our care and our correctness, provided we abuse not this license, and suffer not ourselves to be deceived by it; for all our productions cannot fail to please us at the moment of their birth, as being new to us.”⁠[146]

†61.

“Because the greatest beauties cannot always be expressed for want of terms,” &c. I have learned from the mouth of Monsieur du Fresnoy, that he had oftentimes heard Guido say, “that no man could give a rule of the greatest beauties; and that the knowledge of them was so abstruse, that there was no manner of speaking which could express them.” This comes just to what Quinctilian says,⁠[147] “That things incredible wanted words to express them; for some of them are too great, and too much elevated, to be comprehended by human discourse.” From hence it proceeds, that the best judges, when they admire a noble picture, seem to be fastened to it; and when they come to themselves, you would say, they had lost the use of speech.

“Pausiacâ torpes, insane, tabellâ,” says Horace;⁠[148] and Symmachus says,⁠[149] “that the greatness of astonishment hinders men from giving a just applause.” The Italians say, “Opera da stupire,” when a thing is wonderfully good.

†63.

“Those master-pieces of antiquity, which were the chief examples of this art,” &c. He means the most knowing and best painters of antiquity; that is to say, from the last two ages to our times.

†66.

“And also moderates that fury of the fancy,” &c. There is in the Latin text, “which produces only monsters,” that is to say, things out of all probable resemblance. Such things as are often found in the works of Pietro Testa. “It often happens,” says Dionysius Longinus, a grave author, “that some men, imagining themselves to be possessed with a divine fury, far from being carried into the rage of Bacchanalians, often fall into toys and trifles, which are only puerilities.”

†69.

“A subject beautiful and noble,” &c. Painting is not only pleasing and divertising, but is also a kind of memorial of those things which antiquity has had the most beautiful and noble in their kinds, replacing the history before our eyes; as if the thing were at this very time effectually in action; even so far, that, beholding the pictures wherein those noble deeds are represented, we find ourselves stung with a desire of endeavouring somewhat, which is like that action, there expressed, as if we were reading it in the history. The beauty of the subject inspires us with love and admiration for the pictures, as the fair mixture causes us to enter into the subject which it imitates, and imprints it the more deeply into our imagination, and our memory. These are two chains which are interlinked, which contain, and are at the same time contained, and whose matter is equally precious and estimable.

†72.

“And ingenious,” &c. Aliquid salis, somewhat that is well seasoned, fine, and picquant, extraordinary, of a high relish, proper to instruct, and to clear the understanding. “The painters ought to do like the orators,” says Cicero;⁠[150] “let them instruct, let them divertise, and let them move us;” this is what is properly meant by the word salt.

†74.

“On which the sketch, as it may be called, of the picture is to be disposed,” &c. It is not without reason, nor by chance, that our author uses the word machina. A machine is a just assembling or combination of many pieces, to produce one and the same effect. And the disposition in a picture is nothing else but an assembling of many parts, of which we are to foresee the agreement with each other, and the justness to produce a beautiful effect, as you shall see in the 4th precept, which is concerning the economy. This is also called the composition, by which is meant the distribution and orderly placing of things, both in general, and in particular.

†75.

“Which is what we properly call invention,” &c. Our author establishes three parts of painting; the invention; the design, or drawing; and the colouring, which in some places he also calls the cromatic. Many authors who have written of painting, multiply the parts according to their pleasure; and without giving you, or myself, the trouble of discussing this matter, I will only tell you, that all the parts of painting which others have named, are reducible into these three which are mentioned by our author.

For which reason, I esteem this division to be the justest: and as these three parts are essential to painting, so no man can be truly called a painter, who does not possess them all together: in the same manner that we cannot give the name of man to any creature which is not composed of body, soul, and reason, which are the three parts necessarily constituent of a man. How therefore can they pretend to the quality of painters, who can only copy and purloin the works of others, who therein employ their whole industry, and with that only talent would pass for able painters? And, do not tell me, that many great artists have done this; for I can easily answer you, that it had been their better course to have abstained from so doing; that they have not thereby done themselves much honour, and that copying was not the best part of their reputation. Let us then conclude, that all painters ought to acquire this part of excellence; not to do it, is to want courage, and not dare to shew themselves. It is to creep and grovel on the ground; it is to deserve this just reproach, O imitatores, servum pecus! It is with painters, in reference to their productions, as it is with orators: a good beginning is always costly to both; much sweat and labour is required, but it is better to expose our works, and leave them liable to censure for fifteen years, than to blush for them at the end of fifty. On this account, it is necessary for a painter to begin early to do somewhat of his own, and to accustom himself to it by continual exercise; for so long as, endeavouring to raise himself, he fears falling, he shall be always on the ground. See the following observation.

†76.

“Invention is a kind of Muse, which being possessed of the other advantages common to her sisters,” &c. The attributes of the Muses are often taken for the Muses themselves; and it is in this sense, that Invention is here called a Muse. Authors ascribe to each of them in particular, the sciences which they have, say they, invented; and in general the Belles Lettres, because they contain almost all the others. These sciences are those advantages of which our author speaks, and with which he would have a painter furnish himself sufficiently: and in truth, there is no man, though his understanding be very mean, who knows not, and who finds not of himself, how much learning is necessary to animate his genius, and to complete it. And the reason of this is, that they who have studied, have not only seen and learned many excellent things, in their course of studies; but also they have acquired, by that exercise, a great facility of profiting themselves, by reading good authors. They who will make profession of painting, must heap up treasures out of their reading: and there they will find many wonderful means of raising themselves above others, who can only creep upon the ground; or if they elevate themselves, it is only to fall from a higher place, because they serve themselves of other men’s wings, neither understanding their use, nor their virtue. It is true, that it is not the present mode for a painter to be so knowing: and if any of them, in these times, be found to have either a great wit, or much learning, the multitude would not fail to say, that it was great pity; and that the youth might have come to somewhat in the practical part of the law, or it may be in the treasury, or in the families of some noblemen. So wretched is the destiny of painting in these latter ages. By learning, it is not so much the knowledge of the Greek and Latin tongue, which is here to be understood; as the reading of good authors, and understanding those things of which they treat: for translations being made of the best authors, there is not any painter who is not capable, in some sort, of understanding those books of humanity, which are comprehended under the name of the Belles Lettres. In my opinion, the books which are of the most advantage to those of the profession, are these which follow:

The Bible.

The History of Josephus.

The Roman History of Coeffeteau, for those who understand the French; and that of Titus Livius, in Latin.

Homer, whom Pliny calls the fountain-head of invention and noble thoughts.

Virgil, and in him particularly his Æneis.

The Ecclesiastical History of Godeau, or the Abridgment of Baronius.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

The Pictures of Philostratus.⁠[151]

Plutarch’s Lives.

Pausanias, who is wonderful for giving of great ideas; and chiefly for such as are to be placed at a distance, or cast behind, and for the combining of figures. This author, in conjunction with Homer, makes a good mingle of what is pleasing, and what is perfect.

The Religion of the Ancient Romans, by Du Choul; and in English, Godwin’s Roman Antiquities.

Trajan’s Pillar, with the discourse which explains the figures on it, and instructs a painter in those things with which he is indispensably to be acquainted. This is one of the most principal and most learned books, which we have for the modes, the customs, the arms, and the religion of the Romans. Julio Romano made his chief studies on the marble itself.

The books of medals.

The Bass-Reliefs of Perrier, and others, with their explanations at the bottom of the pages, which give a perfect understanding of them.

Horace’s Art of Poetry, because of the relation which there is betwixt the rules of poetry, and those of painting.

And other books of the like nature, the reading of which are profitable to warm the imagination; such as in English, are Spenser’s Fairy Queen; the Paradise Lost of Milton; Tasso, translated by Fairfax; and the History of Polybius, by Sir Henry Shere.

Some romances also are very capable of entertaining the genius, and of strengthening it, by the noble ideas which they give of things: but there is this danger in them, that they almost always corrupt the truth of history.

There are also other books which a painter may use upon some particular occasions, and only when he wants them: Such are, The Mythology of the Gods; The Images of the Gods; The Iconology; The Tables of Hyginus; The Practical Perspective; and some others not here mentioned.

Thus it is necessary, that they who are desirous of a name in painting, should read at leisure times these books with diligence; and make their observations of such things as they find for their purpose in them, and of which they believe they may some time or other have occasion. Let the imagination be employed in this reading, and let them make sketches, and light touches of those ideas which that reading forms in their imagination. Quinctilian, Tacitus, or whoever was the author of that dialogue, which is called in Latin De Causis corruptæ Eloquentiæ, says, “That painting resembles fire, which is fed by the fuel, inflamed by motion, and gathers strength by burning; for the power of the genius is only augmented by the abundance of matter to supply it; and it is impossible to make a great and magnificent work, if that matter be wanting, or not disposed rightly.” And therefore a painter, who has a genius, gets nothing, by long thinking, and taking all imaginable care to make a noble composition, if he be not assisted by those studies which I have mentioned. All that he can gain by it is only to weary his imagination, and to travel over many vast countries, without dwelling on any one thing, which can give him satisfaction.

All the books which I have named may be serviceable to all sorts of persons, as well as to painters. As for those books which were of particular use to them, they were unfortunately lost in those ages which were before the invention of printing. The copiers neglecting (probably out of ignorance) to transcribe them, as not finding themselves capable of making the demonstrative figures.⁠[152] In the mean times, it is evidently known, by the relation of authors, that we have lost fifty volumes of them at the least. See Pliny in his 35th book; and Franc Junius, in his 3d chapter of the 2d book of the “Painting of the Ancients.” Many moderns have written of it with small success, taking a large compass, without coming directly to the point; and talking much, without saying any thing; yet some of them have acquitted themselves successfully enough. Amongst others, Leonardo da Vinci (though without method); Paulo Lomazzo, whose book is good for the greatest part, but whose discourse is too diffusive and very tiresome; John Baptist Armenini, Franciscus Junius, and Monsieur de Cambray, to whose preface I rather invite you, than to his book. We are not to forget what Monsieur Felebien has written of the historical piece of Alexander, by the hand of Monsieur Le Brun: besides that the work itself is very eloquent, the foundations which he establishes for the making of a good picture are wonderfully solid. Thus I have given you very near the library of a painter, and a catalogue of such books as he ought either to read himself, or have read to him; at least if he will not satisfy himself with possessing painting as the most sordid of all trades, and not as the noblest of all arts.

†77.

“It is the business of a painter, in his choice of attitudes,” &c. See here the most important precept of all those which relate to painting. It belongs properly to a painter alone, and all the rest are borrowed either from learning, or from physic, or from the mathematics, or, in short, from other arts; for it is sufficient to have a natural wit and learning to make that which we call in painting, a good invention: for the design, we must have some insight into anatomy: to make buildings, and other things in perspective, we must have knowledge in the mathematics: and other arts will bring in their quotas, to furnish out the matter of a good picture. But for the economy, or ordering of the whole together, none but only the painter can understand it; because the end of the artist is pleasingly to deceive the eyes, which he can never accomplish if this part be wanting to him. A picture may have an ill effect, though the invention of it be truly understood, the design of it correct, and the colours of it the most beautiful and fine that can be employed in it. And, on the contrary, we may behold other pictures ill invented, ill designed, and painted with the most common colours, which shall have a very good effect, and which shall more pleasingly deceive. “Nothing pleases a man so much as order,” says Xenophon;⁠[153] and Horace, in his “Art of Poetry,” lays it down as a rule,