Among all the beautiful and delightful arts, that of painting has always
found the most lovers; the number of them almost including all mankind.
Of whom great multitudes are daily found, who value themselves on the
knowledge of it: either because they keep company with painters, or that
they have seen good pieces; or, lastly, because their gusto is naturally
good. Which notwithstanding, that knowledge of theirs (if we may so call
it) is so very superficial, and so ill grounded, that it is impossible
for them to describe in what consists the beauty of those works, which
they admire; or the faults, which are in the greatest part of those which
they condemn. And truly it is not hard to find, that this proceeds from
no other cause, than that they are not furnished with rules by which to
judge; nor have any solid foundations, which are as so many lights set
up to clear their understanding, and lead them to an entire and certain
knowledge. I think it superfluous to prove, that this is necessary to the
knowledge of painting. It is sufficient, that painting be acknowledged
for an art; for that being granted, it follows, without dispute, that
no arts are without their precepts. I shall satisfy myself with telling
you, that this little treatise will furnish you with infallible rules
of judging truly; since they are not only founded upon right reason,
but upon the best pieces of the best masters, which our author hath
carefully examined, during the space of more than thirty years; and on
which he has made all the reflections which are necessary, to render this
treatise worthy of posterity; which, though little in bulk, yet contains
most judicious remarks; and suffers nothing to escape, that is essential
to the subject which it handles. If you will please to read it with
attention, you will find it capable of giving the most nice and delicate
sort of knowledge, not only to the lovers, but even to the professors of
that art.
It would be too long to tell you the particular advantages, which it
has above all the books that have appeared before it, in this kind; you
need only read it, and that will convince you of this truth. All that
I will allow myself to say, is only this, that there is not a word in
it which carries not its weight; whereas in all others, there are two
considerable faults, which lie open to the sight, viz. that saying too
much, they always say too little. I assure myself, that the reader will
own it is a work of general profit: to the lovers of painting, for their
instruction how to judge knowingly, from the reason of the thing; and to
the painters themselves, by removing their difficulties, that they may
work with pleasure; because they may be in some manner certain, that
their productions are good. It is to be used like spirits, and precious
liquors: the less you drink of it at a time, it is with the greater
pleasure. Read it often, and but little at once, that you may digest it
better; and dwell particularly on those passages which you find marked
with an asterism *. For the observations which follow such a note, will
give you a clearer light on the matter which is there treated. You will
find them by the numbers which are on the side of the translation, from
five to five verses, by searching for the like number in the remarks
which are at the end of it, and which are distinguished from each other
by this note †. You will find in the latter pages of this book, the
judgment of the author on those painters, who have acquired the greatest
reputation in the world; amongst whom, he was not willing to comprehend
those who are now living. They are undoubtedly his, as being found among
his papers, written in his own hand.
As for the prose translation, which you will find on the other side
of the Latin poem, I must inform you on what occasion, and in what
manner, it was performed. The love which I had for painting, and the
pleasure which I found in the exercise of that noble art, at my leisure
hours, gave me the desire of being acquainted with the late Monsieur du
Fresnoy, who was generally reputed to have a thorough knowledge of it.
Our acquaintance at length proceeded to that degree of intimacy, that
he entrusted me with his poem, which he believed me capable both of
understanding, and translating; and accordingly desired me to undertake
it. The truth is, we had conversed so often on that subject, and he had
communicated his thoughts of it so fully to me, that I had not the least
remaining difficulty concerning it. I undertook therefore to translate
it, and employed myself in it with pleasure, care, and assiduity; after
which, I put it into his hands, and he altered in it what he pleased;
till at last, it was wholly to his mind. And then he gave his consent
that it should be published; but his death preventing that design, I
thought it a wrong to his memory, to deprive mankind any longer of this
translation, which I may safely affirm to be done according to the true
sense of the author, and to his liking: since he himself has given
great testimonies of his approbation to many of his friends. And they,
who are acquainted with him, know his humour to be such, that he would
never constrain himself so far, as to commend what he did not really
approve. I thought myself obliged to say thus much, in vindication of the
faithfulness of my work, to those who understand not the Latin; for as to
those who are conversant in both the tongues, I leave them to make their
own judgment of it.
The remarks which I have added to his work, are also wholly conformable
to his opinions; and I am certain that he would not have disapproved
them. I have endeavoured in them to explain some of the most obscure
passages, and those which are most necessary to be understood: and I have
done this according to the manner wherein he used to express himself,
in many conversations which we had together. I have confined them also
to the narrowest compass I was able, that I might not tire the patience
of the reader, and that they might be read by all persons. But if it
happens, that they are not to the taste of some readers, (as doubtless
it will so fall out,) I leave them entirely to their own discretion; and
shall not be displeased that another hand should succeed better. I shall
only beg this favour from them, that in reading what I have written,
they will bring no particular gusto along with them, or any prevention of
mind; and that whatsoever judgment they make, it may be purely their own,
whether it be in my favour, or in my condemnation.