itself, and its inhabitants, to what we see in this world; even the Supreme Being, if he is represented at all, the painter has no other way of representing than by reversing the decree of the inspired Lawgiver, and making God after his own image.

Nothing can be so unphilosophical as a supposition that we can form any idea of beauty or excellence out of or beyond nature, which is and must be the fountain-head from whence all our ideas must be derived.

This being acknowledged, it must follow, of course, that all the rules which this theory, or any other, teaches, can be no more than teaching the art of seeing nature. The rules of art are formed on the various works of those who have studied nature the most successfully by this advantage, of observing the various manners in which various minds have contemplated her works, the artist enlarges his own views, and is taught to look for and see what otherwise would have escaped his observation.

It is to be remarked, that there are two modes of imitating nature; one of which refers for its truth to the sensations of the mind, and the other to the eye.

Some schools, such as the Roman and Florentine, appear to have addressed themselves principally to the mind; others solely to the eye, such as the Venetian, in the instances of Paolo Veronese

1

and Tintoret: others again have endeavoured to unite both, by joining the elegance and grace of ornament with the strength and vigour of design ; such are the schools of Bologna and Parma.

All those schools are equally to be considered as followers of nature. He who produces a work analogous to the mind or imagination of man, is as natural a painter as he whose works are calculated to delight the eye; the works of Michel Angelo, or Giulio Romano, in this sense, may be said to be as natural as those of the Dutch painters. The study, therefore, of the nature or affections of the mind is as necessary to the theory of the higher department of the art, as the knowledge of what will be pleasing or offensive to the eye, is to the lower style.

What relates to the mind or imagination, such as invention, character, expression, grace, or grandeur, certainly cannot be taught by rules; little more can be done than pointing out where they are to be found: it is a part which belongs to general education, and will operate in proportion to the cultivation of the mind of the artist.

The greater part of the rules in this Poem are, therefore, necessarily confined to what relates to the eye; and it may be remarked, that none of those rules make any pretensions towards improving nature, or going contrary to her work: their tendency is merely to show what is truly nature.

Thus, for instance, a flowing outline is recom

mended, because beauty (which alone is nature) cannot be produced without it; old age or leanness produces strait lines; corpulency round lines; but in a state of health, accompanying youth, the outlines are waving, flowing, and serpentine. Thus again, if we are told to avoid the chalk, the brick, or the leaden colour, it is because real flesh never partakes of those hues, though ill-coloured pictures are always inclinable to one or other of those defects.

Rules are to be considered likewise as fences, placed only where trespass is expected; and are particularly enforced in proportion as peculiar faults or defects are prevalent at the time, or age, in which they are delivered; for what may be proper strongly to recommend or enforce in one age, may not with equal propriety be so much laboured in another, when it may be the fashion for artists to run into the contrary extreme, proceeding from prejudice to a manner adopted by some favourite painter then in vogue.

When it is recommended to preserve a breadth of colour or of light, it is not intended that the artist is to work broader than nature; but this lesson is insisted on, because we know, from experience, that the contrary is a fault which artists are apt to be guilty of; who, when they are examining and finishing the detail, neglect or forget that breadth which is observable only when the eye takes in the effect of the whole.

Thus again, we recommend to paint soft and tender to make a harmony and union of colouring ; and for this end, that all the shadows shall be nearly of the same colour. The reason of these precepts being at all enforced, proceeds from the disposition which artists have to paint harder than nature, to make the outline more cutting against the ground, and to have less harmony and union than is found in nature, preserving the same brightness of colour in the shadows as are seen in the lights both these false manners of representing nature were the practice of the painters when the art was in its infancy, and would be the practice now of every student who was left to himself, and had never been taught the art of seeing nature.

There are other rules which may be said not so much to relate to the objects represented as to the eye; but the truth of these are as much fixed in nature as the others, and proceed from the necessity there is that the work should be seen with ease and satisfaction: to this end are all the rules that relate to grouping and the disposition of light and shade.

With regard to precepts about moderation and avoiding extremes, little is to be drawn from them. The rule would be too minute that had any exactness at all: a multiplicity of exceptions would arise, so that the teacher would be for ever saying too much, and yet never enough. When a student is instructed to mark with precision every part of his

figure, whether it be naked, or in drapery, he probably becomes hard; if, on the contrary, he is told to paint in the most tender manner, possibly he becomes insipid. But among extremes some are more tolerable than others; of the two extremes I have just mentioned, the hard manner is the most pardonable, carrying with it an air of learning, as if the artist knew with precision the true form of nature, though he had rendered it with too heavy a hand.

In every part of the human figure, when not spoiled by too great corpulency, will be found this distinctness, the parts never appearing uncertain or confused, or, as a musician would say, slurred; and all those smaller parts which are comprehended in the larger compartment are still to be there, however tenderly marked.

To conclude. In all minute, detailed, and practical excellence, general precepts must be either deficient or unnecessary for the rule is not known, nor is it indeed to any purpose a rule, if it be necessary to inculcate it on every occasion.

NOTE LVII. VERSE 772.

R.

Whence Art, by practice, to perfection soars. After this the Poet says, that he passes over in silence many things which will be more amply treated in his commentary.

"Multa supersileo quæ Commentaria dicent."