* 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.
* “Let the whole picture be of one piece, as if it were painted from one palette.”
* 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.
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.
* 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.
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.”
* You are to “take the utmost care, that broad lights may be joined to a like breadth of shadows.”
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.
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.”
But while you endeavour to avoid one vice, be cautious lest you fall into another; for “extremes are always vicious.” 415.
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.
* Search whatsoever is aiding to your art, and convenient; and avoid those things which are repugnant to it.
* 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.
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.
* 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.
* 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.
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.
* 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.
* 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.
* Let no day pass over you, without a line.
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.
* 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.
* 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.
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.
The number at the head of every observation serves to find in the text the particular passage on which the observation was made.
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.”
“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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.”
“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.”
“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.