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.
* 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.
* 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.
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 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.
* 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.
* Let “there be a genuine and lively expression of the subject,” conformable to the text of ancient authors, to customs, and to times.
“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.”
* 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.
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.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.”
* The extremities of the joints must be seldom hidden; and the extremities or end of the feet never.
* The figures which are behind others, have neither grace nor vigour, unless the motions of the hands accompany those of the head. 165.
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.
* 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.
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.
* If you have but one single figure to work upon, you ought to make it perfectly finished, and diversified with many colours.
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.”
* 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.
* 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.
* 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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
“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.”
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.
* 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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
* 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.
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.
* 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.
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.”
* 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.”
* 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.