NOTE XXVIII. VERSE 243.

Nor yet to Nature such strict homage pay,
As not to quit when Genius leads the way;
Nor yet, though Genius all his succour sends,
Her mimic powers though ready Memory lends,
Presume from Nature wholly to depart;

For Nature is the Arbitress of Art.

Nothing in the art requires more attention and judgment, or more of that power of discrimination which may not improperly be called genius, than the steering between general ideas and individuality: for though the body of the work must certainly be composed by the first, in order to communicate a character of grandeur to the whole, yet a dash of the latter is sometimes necessary to give an interest. An individual model, copied with scrupulous exactness, makes a mean style, like the Dutch; and the neglect of an actual model, and the method of proceeding solely from idea, has a tendency to make the painter degenerate into a mannerist.

In order to keep the mind in repair, it is necessary to replace and refreshen those impressions of nature which are continually wearing away.

A circumstance mentioned in the life of Guido is Iwell worth the attention of artists. He was asked from whence he borrowed his idea of beauty, which is acknowledged superior to that of any other painter; he said he would show all the models he used, and ordered a common porter to sit before him, from whom he drew a beautiful countenance. This was undoubtedly an exaggeration of his conduct; but his intention was to show that he thought it necessary for painters to have some model of nature before them, however they might deviate from it, and correct it from the

idea of perfect beauty which they have formed in their minds.

In painting it is far better to have a model even to depart from, than to have nothing fixed and certain to determine the idea. When there is a model, there is something to proceed on, something to be corrected; so that even supposing no part is adopted, the model has still been not without use.

Such habits of intercourse with nature will at least create that variety which will prevent any one from prognosticating, on being informed of the subject, what manner of work the painter is likely to produce; which is the most disagreeable character an artist can have.

NOTE XXIX. VERSE 265.

Peculiar toil on single forms bestow,

There let expression lend its finish'd glow.

R.

should be as much as It may be remarked, never unite or make a

When the picture consists of a single figure only, that figure must be contrasted in its limbs and drapery with great variety of lines; it possible a composition of itself. that such a complete figure will part of a group; as on the other hand, no figure of a well conducted group will stand by itself. A composition, where every figure is such as I suppose a single figure ought to be, and those likewise contrasted to each other, which is not uncommon in the works of young artists, produces such an assemblage of artifice and affectation as is in the highest degree unnatural and disgustful.

There is another circumstance which, though not improper in single figures, ought never to be practised in historical pictures; that of representing any figure

as looking out of the picture, that is, looking at the person who views the picture. This conduct in history gives an appearance to that figure of having no connection with the rest; and ought therefore never to be practised except in ludicrous subjects.

It is not certain that the variety recommended in a single figure can with equal success be extended to colouring. The difficulty will be in diffusing the colours of the drapery of this single figure to other distant parts of the picture, for this is what harmony requires; this difficulty, however, seems to be evaded in the works of Titian, Vandyck, and many others, by dressing their single figures in black or white.

Vandyck, in the famous portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, was confined in his dress to crimson velvet and white linen: he has, therefore, made the curtain in the background of the same crimson colour, and the white is diffused by a letter which lies on the table; and a bunch of flowers is likewise introduced for the same purpose. R.

Not on the form in stiff adhesion laid,
But well reliev'd by gentle light and shade.

The disposing of the drapery so as as to appear to cling close round the limbs, is a kind of pedantry which young painters are very apt to fall into, as it carries with it a relish of the learning acquired from the ancient statues; but they should recollect there is not the same necessity for this practice in painting as in sculpture.

R.

NOTE XXXI. VERSE 297.

But sparingly thy earth-born stores unfold,

Nor load with gems, nor lace with tawdry gold.

Finery of all kinds destroys grandeur, which in a great measure proceeds from simplicity; it may, however, without impropriety, be introduced into the ornamental style, such as that of Rubens and Paul Veronese.

R.

NOTE XXXII. VERSE 307.

That majesty, that grace, so rarely given
To mortal man, nor taught by art, but heaven.

It is undoubtedly true, and perfectly obvious, that every part of the art has a grace belonging to it, which, to satisfy and captivate the mind, must be superadded to correctness. This excellence, however expressed, whether we call it genius, taste, or the gift of Heaven, I am confident may be acquired: or the artist may certainly be put into that train by which it shall be acquired; though he must, in a great measure, teach himself by a continual contemplation of the works of those painters who are acknowledged to excel in grace and majesty this will teach him to look for it in nature, and industry will give him the power of expressing it on

:

canvass.

R.

NOTE XXXIII. VERSE 315.

Thy last, thy noblest task remains untold,
Passion to paint, and sentiment unfold.

This is truly the noblest task, and is the finishing of the fabric of the art: to attempt this summit of ex

cellence without having first laid the foundation of habitual correctness, may indeed be said to build castles in the air.

Every part which goes to the composition of a picture, even inanimate objects, are capable to a certain degree of conveying sentiment, and contribute their share to the general purpose of striking the imagination of the spectator. The disposition of light or the folding of drapery, will give sometimes a general air of grandeur to the whole work.

NOTE XXXIV. VERSE 325.

By tedious toil no passions are exprest,

R.

His hand who feels them strongest paints them best.

A painter, whatever he may feel, will not be able to express it on canvass, without having recourse to a recollection of those principles by which the passion required is expressed. The mind thus occupied is not likely at the same time to be possessed with the passion which he is representing. An image may be ludicrous, and in its first conception make the painter laugh as well as the spectator; but the difficulty of his art makes the painter, in the course of his work, equally grave and serious, whether he is employed on the most ludicrous, or the most solemn subject.

However, we may, without great violence, suppose this rule to mean no more, than that a sensibility is required in the artist, so that he should be capable of conceiving the passion properly before he sets about representing it on canvass.

R.