“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.
“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.
“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]
“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.
“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.
“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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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,
This precept is properly the use and application of all the rest; for which reason it requires much judgment. You are therefore in such manner to foresee things, that your picture may be painted in your head, before it comes upon the canvas. “When Menander,” says a celebrated author,[154] “had ordered the scenes of his comedy, he held it to be, in a manner, already made; though he had not begun the first verse of it.” It is an undoubted truth, that they who are endued with this foresight, work with incredible pleasure and facility; others, on the contrary, are perpetually changing, and rechanging their work, which, when it is ended, leaves them but anxiety for all their pains. It seems to me, that these sorts of pictures remind us of those old Gothic castles, made at several times; and which hold together only as it were by rags and patches.
It may be inferred from that which I have said, that the invention and the disposition are two several and distinct parts. In effect, though the last of them depends upon the first, and is commonly comprehended under it; yet we are to take great care, that we do not confound them. The invention simply finds out the subjects, and makes a choice of them suitable to the history which we treat; and the disposition distributes those things which are thus found, each to its proper place, and accommodates the figures and the groupes in particular, and the tout ensemble (or whole together) of the picture in general; so that this economy produces the same effect in relation to the eyes, as a concert of music to the ears.
There is one thing of great consequence to be observed in the economy of the whole work, which is, that at the first sight we may be given to understand the quality of the subject; and that the picture, at the first glance of the eye, may inspire us with the principal passion of it: for example, if the subject which you have undertaken to treat be of joy, it is necessary that every thing which enters into your picture should contribute to that passion, so that the beholders shall immediately be moved with it. If the subject be mournful, let every thing in it have a stroke of sadness; and so of the other passions and qualities of the subjects.
“Let there be a genuine and lively expression of the subject, conformable to the text of ancient authors,” &c. Take care that the licences of painters be rather to adorn the history, than to corrupt it. And though Horace gives permission to painters and poets[155] to dare every thing, yet he encourages neither of them to make things out of nature or verisimility; for he adds immediately after,
The thoughts of a man endued with good sense, are not of kin to visionary madness; men in fevers are only capable of such dreams. Treat then the subjects of your pictures with all possible faithfulness, and use your licences with a becoming boldness; provided they be ingenious, and not immoderate and extravagant.
“Take care that whatsoever makes nothing to your subject,” &c. Nothing deadens so much the composition of a picture, as figures which are not appertaining to the subject: we may call them pleasantly enough, figures to be let.
“This part of painting so rarely met with,” &c. That is to say, invention.
“Which was stolen by Prometheus,” &c. The poets feign, that Prometheus formed out of clay so fair a statue, that Minerva one day, having long admired it, said to the workman, that if he thought there was any thing in heaven which could add to its perfection, he might ask it of her; but he being ignorant of what might be most beautiful in the habitation of the gods, desired leave that he might be carried thither, and being there, to make his choice. The goddess bore him thither upon her shield, and so soon as he had perceived, that all celestial things were animated with fire, he stole a parcel of it, which he carried down to earth, and applying it to the stomach of his statue, enlivened the whole body.
“That it happens not to every one to see Corinth,” &c. This is an ancient proverb, which signifies, that every man has not the genius, nor the disposition, that is necessary for the sciences; neither yet a capacity fit for the undertaking of things which are great and difficult. Corinth was heretofore the centre of all arts, and the place whither they sent all those whom they would render capable of any thing. Cicero calls it the light of all Græcia.[156]
“It arrived at length to that height of perfection,” &c. This was in the time of Alexander the Great, and lasted even to Augustus, under whose reign painting fell to great decay. But under the emperors, Domitian, Nerva, and Trajan, it appeared in its primitive lustre; which lasted to the time of Phocas the emperor, when vices prevailing over the arts, and war being kindled through all Europe, and especially in Lombardy, (occasioned by the irruption of the Huns,) painting was totally extinguished. And if some few, in the succeeding ages, strained themselves to revive it, it was rather in finding out the most glaring, gaudy, and costly colours, than in imitating the harmonious simplicity of those illustrious painters who preceded them. At length, in the fourteenth century, some there were, who began to set it again on foot. And it may truly be said, that about the end of the fifteenth age, and the beginning of our sixteenth, it appeared in much splendour, by means of many knowing men in all parts of Italy, who were in perfect possession of it. Since those happy times, which were so fruitful of the noble arts, we have also had some knowing painters, but very few in number, because of the little inclination which sovereign princes have had for painting: but thanks to the zeal of our great monarch, and to the care of his first minister, Monsieur Colbert, we may shortly behold it more flourishing than ever.
“An attitude therefore must be chosen, according to their taste,” &c. This is the second part of painting, which is called design, or drawing. As the ancients have sought as much as possible whatsoever contributes to the making of a perfect body; so they have diligently examined in what consists the beauty of good attitudes, as their works sufficiently inform us.
“The parts of it must be great,” &c. Yet not so great as to exceed a just proportion. But he means, that in a noble attitude, the greatest parts of the body ought to appear foremost, rather than the less, for which reason, in another passage, he vehemently forbids the foreshortenings, because they make the parts appear little, though of themselves they are great. “And large,” &c. To avoid the dry manner, such as is most commonly the nature which Lucas van Leyden and Albert Durer have imitated.
“Contrasted by contrary motions, the most noble parts foremost in sight, and each figure carefully poised on its own centre,” &c. The motions are never natural, when the members are not equally balanced on their centre; and these members cannot be balanced on their centre in an equality of weight, but they must contrast each other. A man who dances on the rope, makes a manifest demonstration of this truth. The body is a weight balanced on its feet, as upon two pivots. And though one of the feet most commonly bears the weight, yet we see that the whole weight rests centrally upon it. Insomuch, that if, for example, one arm is stretched out, it must of necessity be either, that the other arm, or the leg, be cast backward, or the body somewhat bowed on the opposite side, so as to make an equilibrium, and be in a situation which is unforced. It may be, though seldom, if it be not in old men, that the feet bear equally; and for that time half the weight is equally distributed on each foot. You ought to make use of the same prudence, if one foot bears three parts in four of the burthen, and that the other foot bears the remaining part. This, in general, is what may be said of the balance, and the libration of the body. In particular, there may many things be said which are very useful and curious, of which you may satisfy yourselves in Leonardo da Vinci. He has done wonderfully well on that subject; and one may truly say, that the ponderation is the best and soundest part of all his book of painting. It begins at the 181st chapter, and concludes at the 273d. I would also advise you to read Paulo Lomazzo, in his 6th book, chapter 4th, Del moto del corpo humano, that is, the motion of a human body. You will there find many things of great profit. For what concerns the contrast, I will only say, in general, that nothing gives so much grace and life to figures. See the 13th precept, and what I say upon it in the remarks.
“The parts must be drawn with flowing, glideing outlines,” &c. The reason of this proceeds from the action of the muscles, which are so many well-buckets: when one of them acts and draws, it is necessary that the other must obey; so that the muscles which act, drawing always towards their principal, and those which obey stretching in length, and on the side of their insertion; it must needs follow, that the parts must be designed in waves; but beware, lest in giving this form to the parts, you do not break the bones which sustain them, and which always must make them appear firm.
This maxim is not altogether so general, but that actions may be found, where the masses of the muscles are situate one over against another; but that is not very common. The outlines, which are in waves, give not only a grace to the parts, but also to the whole body, when it is only supported on one leg. As we see in the figures of Antinous, Meleager, the Venus of Medicis, that of the Vatican, the two others of Borghese, and that of Flora, of the goddess Vesta, the two Bacchus’s of Borghese, and that of Ludovisio, and in fine, of the greatest number of the ancient figures, which are standing, and which always rest more upon one foot than the other. Besides, that the figures and their parts ought almost always to have a serpentine and flaming form naturally; these sorts of outlines have, I know not what of life and seeming motion in them, which very much resembles the activity of the flame, and of the serpent.
“According to the rules of anatomy,” &c. This part is nothing known at present amongst our modern painters. I have shewn the profit, and even the necessity of it, in the preface of a little epitome which I have made, and which Monsieur Torrebat has published. I know, there are some, who think this science a kind of monster, and believe it to be of no advantage, either because they are mean spirited, or that they have not considered the want which they have of it; nor reflected, as they ought, on its importance; contenting themselves with a certain tract, to which they have been used. But certain it is, that whoever is capable of such a thought, will never be capable of becoming a great designer.
“In imitation of the Greek forms,” &c. That is to say, according to the ancient statues, which for the most part come from Greece.
“Let there be a perfect relation betwixt the parts and the whole,” &c., or let them agree well together, which is the same thing. His meaning in this place is, to speak of the justness of proportions, and of the harmony which they make with one another. Many famous authors have thoroughly treated this matter. Amongst others, Paulo Lomazzo, whose first book speaks of nothing else; but there are so many sub-divisions, that a reader must have a good brain not to be turned with them. See those which our author has remarked in general, on the most beautiful statues of the ancients. I believe them to be so much the better, as they are more conformable to those which Vitruvius gives us in the first chapter of his third book; and which he tells us, that he learned from the artists themselves; because in the preface to his seventh book, he makes his boast to have had them from others, and particularly from architects and painters.
The Measures of a Human Body.
The ancients have commonly allowed eight heads to their figures, though some of them have but seven. But we ordinarily divide the figures into ten faces;[157] that is to say, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot; in the following manner:
From the crown of the head to the forehead, is the third part of a face.
The face begins at the root of the lowest hairs, which are upon the forehead, and ends at the bottom of the chin.
The face is divided into three proportionable parts; the first contains the forehead, the second the nose, and the third the mouth and the chin.
From the chin to the pit betwixt the collar-bones, are two lengths of a nose.
From the pit betwixt the collar-bones to the bottom of the breast, one face.
[158] From the bottom of the breasts to the navel, one face.
[159] From the navel to the genitories, one face.
From the genitories to the upper part of the knee, two faces.
The knee contains half a face.
From the lower part of the knee to the ankle, two faces.
From the ankle to the sole of the foot, half a face.
A man, when his arms are stretched out, is, from the longest finger of his right hand, to the longest of his left as broad as he is long.
From one side of the breasts to the other, two faces.
The bone of the arm, called humerus, is the length of two faces from the shoulder to the elbow.
From the end of the elbow to the root of the little finger, the bone called cubitus, with part of the hand, contains two faces.
From the box of the shoulder-blade to the pit betwixt the collar-bones, one face.
If you would be satisfied in the measures of breadth, from the extremity of one finger to the other, so that this breadth should be equal to the length of the body, you must observe, that the boxes of the elbows with the humerus, and of the humerus with the shoulder-blade, bear the proportion of half a face, when the arms are stretched out.
The sole of the foot is the sixth part of the figure.
The hand is the length of a face.
The thumb contains a nose.
The inside of the arm, from the place where the muscle disappears, which makes the breast, (called the pectoral muscle,) to the middle of the arm, four noses.
From the middle of the arm to the beginning of the hand, five noses.
The longest toe is a nose long.
The two utmost parts of the teats, and the pit betwixt the collar bones of a woman, make an equilateral triangle.
For the breadth of the limbs, no precise measures can be given; because the measures themselves are changeable, according to the quality of the persons, and according to the movement of the muscles.
If you would know the proportions more particularly, you may see them in Paulo Lomazzo; it is good to read them, once at least, and to make remarks on them; every man according to his own judgment, and according to the occasion which he has for them.
“Though perspective cannot be called a perfect rule,” &c. That is to say, purely of itself, without prudence and discretion. The greatest part of those who understand it, desiring to practise it too regularly, often make such things as shock the sight, though they are within the rules. If all those great painters, who have left us such fair platforms, had rigorously observed it in their figures, they had not wholly found their account in it. They had indeed made things more regularly true, but withal very unpleasing. There is great appearance, that the architects and statuaries of former times have not found it to their purpose always; nor have followed the geometrical part so exactly as perspective ordains. For he who would imitate the frontispiece of the Rotunda according to perspective, would be grossly deceived; since the columns which are at the extremities have more diameter than those which are in the middle. The cornish of the Palazzo Farnese, which makes so beautiful an effect below, when viewed more nearly, will be found not to have its just measures. In the pillar of Trajan, we see that the highest figures are greater than those below; and make an effect quite contrary to perspective, increasing according to the measure of their distance. I know there is a rule which teaches a way of making them in that manner; and which, though it is to be found in some books of perspective, yet notwithstanding is no rule of perspective; because it is never made use of, but only when we find it for our purpose: for if, for example, the figures which are at the top of Trajan’s pillar were but as great as those which are at the bottom, they would not be for all that against perspective: and thus we may say, with more reason, that it is a rule of decorum in perspective, to ease the sight, and to render objects more agreeable. It is on this general observation, that we may establish in perspective, the rules of decorum, or convenience, whensoever occasion shall offer. We may also see another example in the base of the Farnesian Hercules; which is not upon the level, but on an easy declivity on the advanced part, that the feet of the figure may not be hidden from the sight, to the end that it may appear more pleasing; which the noble authors of these things have done, not in contempt of geometry and perspective, but for the satisfaction of the eyes, which was the end they proposed to themselves in all their works.
We must therefore understand perspective as a science which is absolutely necessary, and which a painter must not want; yet without subjecting ourselves so wholly to it, as to become slaves of it. We are to follow it, when it leads us in a pleasing way, and shews us pleasing things; but for some time to forsake it, if it leads us through mire, or to a precipice. Endeavour after that which is aiding to your art, and convenient, but avoid whatsoever is repugnant to it; as the 59th rule teaches.