1

4 so inconsiderable which may not become of importance, when made an object of serious attention. Sidney never repines like Fleetwood; and as he is much 8 more respected, so he has much more real happiness than either Morley or Dacres. Fleetwood's weaknesses are amiable; and, though we pity, we must love him but there is a complacent dignity in the character of Sidney, which excites at once our love, respect, and admiration.

Α.

No. 48. SATURDAY, JULY 10, 1779.

THE following paper was lately received from a correspondent, who accompanied it with a promise of carrying his idea through some of the other fine arts. I have since been endeavouring to make it a little less technical, in order to fit it more for general perusal; but, finding I could not accomplish this, without hurting the illustrations of the writer, I have given it to my readers in the terms in which I received it.

The perceptions of different men, arising from the impressions on the same object, are very often different. Of these we always suppose one to be just and true; all the others to be false. But which is the true, and which the false, we are often at a loss to determine as the poet has said,

"'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.'

POPE.

With regard to our external senses, this diversity of feeling, as far as it occurs, is of little consequence; but the truth of perception, in our internal senses, employed in morals and criticism, is more interesting and important.

In the judgments we form concerning the beauty and excellency of the several imitative arts, this difference of feeling is very conspicuous; and 'tis difficult to say why each man may not believe his own, or how a standard may be established, by which the truth of different judgments may be compared and tried. Whether there is, or is not, a standard of taste, I shall not attempt to determine: but there is a question connected with that, which properly answered, may have some effect in the decision: whether in the imitative arts, a person exercised in the practice of the art, or in the frequent contemplation of its productions, be better qualified to judge of these, than a person who only feels the direct and immediate effects of it? In the words of an ancient critic, An docti, qui rationem operis intelligunt, an qui voluptatem tantum percipiunt, optimè dijudicant? or, as I may express it in English, whether the artist or connoisseur have any advantage over other persons of common sense or common feeling?

This question shall be considered at present with regard to one art only, to wit, that of painting; but some of the principles which I shall endeavour to illustrate will have a general tendency to establish a decision in all. In the first place, it is proper to mention the chief sources of the pleasure we receive in viewing pictures. One arises from the perception of imitation, however produced; a second, from the art displayed in producing such imitation; and a third, from the beauty, grace, propriety of the object imitated. cur in the imitation of one single

agreeableness, and These may all ocobject; but a much

higher pleasure arises from several objects combined together in such a manner, that while each of them singly affords the several sources of pleasure already mentioned, they all unite in producing one effect, one particular emotion in the spectator, and an impression much stronger than could have been raised by one object alone.

These seem to be the chief sources of the pleasure we receive from pictures; and, with regard to the true and accurate perceptions of each, let us consider who is most likely to form them, the painter and connoisseur, or the unexperienced spectator.

In viewing imitation, we are more or less pleased according to the degree of exactness with which the object is expressed; and, supposing the object to be a common one, it might be imagined that every person would be equally a judge of the exactness of the imitation; but, in truth, it is otherwise. Our recollection of an object does not depend upon any secret remembrance of the several parts of which it consists, of the exact position of these, or of the dimensions of the whole. A very inaccurate resemblance serves the purpose of memory, and will often pass with us for a true representation, even of the subjects that we fancy ourselves very well acquainted with.

The self-applause of Zeuxis was not well founded when he valued himself on having painted grapes that so far deceived the birds as to bring them to peck at his picture. Birds are no judges of an accurate resemblance, when they often mistake a scare-crow for a man. Nor had Parrhasius much reason to boast of his deceiving even Zeuxis, who, viewing it hastily, and from a distance, mistook the picture of a linen cloth for a real one. It always requires study to perceive the exactness of imitation; and most persons may find, by daily experience, that, when they would examine the accuracy of any representation,

they can hardly do it properly, but by bringing together the picture and its archetype, so that they may quickly pass from the one to the other, and thereby compare the form, size, and proportions of all the different parts. Without such study of objects as the painter employs to imitate them, or the connoisseur employs in comparing them with their imitations, there is no person can be a judge of the exactness of the representation. The painters, therefore, or the connoisseurs, are the persons who will best perceive the truth of imitation, and best judge of its merit. It is true, some persons may be acquainted with certain objects even better than the painters themselves, as the shoemaker was with the shoe in the picture of Apelles; but most persons, like the same shoemaker, are unfit to extend their judgment beyond their last; and must in other parts yield to the more general knowledge of the painter.

As we are, in the first place, pleased with viewing imitation; so we are, in the second place, with considering the art by which the imitation is performed. The pleasure we derive from this is in proportion to the difficulty we apprehend in the execution, and the degree of genius necessary to the performance of it. But this difficulty, and the degree of genius exerted in surmounting it, can only be well known to the persons exercised in the practice of the art.

When a person has acquired an exact idea of an object, there is still a great difficulty in expressing

To

that correctly upon his canvas. With regard to objects of a steady figure, they may perhaps be imitated by an ordinary artist; but transient objects of a momentary appearance require still a nicer hand. catch the more delicate expressions of the human soul, requires an art of which few are possessed, and none can sufficiently admire, but those who have themselves attempted it. These are the difficulties

of painting, in forming even a correct outline; and the painter has yet more to struggle with. To represent a solid upon a plain surface, by the position and size of the several parts; to be exact in perspective; by these, and by the distribution of light and shade, to make every figure stand out from the canvas; and lastly, by natural and glowing colours to animate and give life to the whole: these are parts of the painter's art, from which chiefly the pleasure of the spectator, arising from his consciousness of the imitation, is derived, but, at the same time, such as the uninformed spectator has but an imperfect notion of, and, therefore, must feel an inferior degree of pleasure in contemplating.

The next source of the pleasures derived from painting, above taken notice of, is that arising from the beauty, the grace, the elegance of the objects imitated. When a painter is happy enough to make such a choice, he does it by a constitutional taste that may be common to all. Raphael could not learn it from his master Pietro Perugino; Rubens, though conversant with the best models of antiquity, could never acquire it. In judging, therefore, of this part of painting, the artist has scarcely any advantage above the common spectator. But it is to be observed, that a person of the finest natural taste cannot become suddenly an elegans formarum spectator, an expression which it is scarce possible to translate. It is only by comparison that we arrive at the knowledge of what is most perfect in its kind. The Madonas of Carlo Maratt appear exquisitely beautiful; and it is only when we see those of Raphael that we discern their imperfections. A person may even be sensible of the imperfections of forms; but, at the same time, may find it impossible to conceive, with precision, an idea of the most perfect. Thus Raphael could not form an idea of the Divine Majesty, till he saw it so