HOW far I may venture further to obtrude my opinions, or advice, on the
notice of artists, particularly engravers on wood, I know not, but they
may readily imagine that I cannot help feeling a deep interest, and an
ardent desire, that the art may long flourish, and that those who follow
it may feel happy in the pursuit. Perhaps what I have already said may
not be uninteresting to some of them, and, if I knew how I could go
further, in any way that might urge or stimulate them to feel enthusiasm
for this art, it should not be wanting; for the wish, though tottering
on the down-hill of life, is extended beyond the grave.
The sedentary artist ought, if possible, to have his dwelling in the
country, where he can follow his business undisturbed, surrounded by
pleasing rural scenery, and the fresh air. He ought not to sit at work
too long at a time, but to unbend his mind with some variety of
employment; for which purpose it is desirable that artists, with their
_little cots_, shall also have each a garden attached, in which they may
find both exercise and amusement, and only occasionally visit the city
or the smoky town; and that chiefly for the purpose of meetings with
their brother artists, in which they may make an interchange of their
sentiments, and commune with each other as to whatever regards the arts.
Were I allowed to become their M.D., my prescription should cost them
nothing, and be easily taken—it being only attentively to observe two or
three rules, the first of which is, that they will contrive to be very
hungry once a day, never to overload the stomach, nor indulge to satiety
in eating anything. By persisting in this, they will find their reward
in great good health, and a vigorous, unclouded mind: by a little
observation they may clearly see that a great portion of mankind “live
to eat”—not eat to live.[38] To say more to men of sense and
artists,—which a desire to contribute everything in my power towards
their peace of mind and happiness prompts me to do,—I may be allowed to
add, that those of them who have attained to eminence will find
themselves pursued by envy; for “There is no species of hatred greater
than that which a man of mediocrity bears to a man of genius; his reach
of thought, his successful combinations, and his sudden felicities are
never forgiven by those whom nature has fashioned in a less perfect
mould.”
Footnote 38:
All youths, but especially those who follow sedentary employments,
ought to exercise with dumb-bells half-an-hour or so before going to
bed, and at other times when convenient. Were this more practised, we
should hear of few dying of consumption.
It is the duty of parents and guardians to endeavour, with the utmost
care, to discover the capacities and fitness of youth for any business
before they engage in it; for, without they are innately gifted with the
power of becoming artists, the want of that power will cause the pursuit
to be felt by them as up-hill work, and be productive of unhappiness to
them through life. But the fondness of parents for their offspring is
mostly such as to blind them in forming a judgment, and disappointment
is sure to follow. It would be well for such parents to read Gay’s fable
of “The Owl, the Swan, the Cock, the Spider, the Ass, and the Farmer.”
It may indeed be conceded that there are some rare exceptions to this
general rule; for a man may be so formed in body and mind—with such
symmetry and health in the one, and such energy in the other—that he may
advance a great way towards perfection in anything he ardently pursues.
But an “Admirable Chrichton,” or a Sir Joshua Reynolds, does not often
appear. Men so gifted by nature, whether as artists, or in any other way
where intellectual powers are to be drawn forth, ought never to despair
of rising to eminence, or to imagine that they can never equal such men
as have excelled all others in their day. It ought to be kept in mind
that the same superintending Providence which gifted those men with
talents to excite wonder and to improve society from time to time, in
all ages, still rules the world and the affairs of mankind, and will
continue to do so for ever, as often as the services of such men are
wanted; and this consideration ought to act as a stimulant to their
successors, to endeavour to surpass in excellence the brilliant
luminaries who have only gone before them to pave the way and to
enlighten their paths. All artists—and indeed till men—ought to divide
their time by regularly appropriating one portion of it to one purpose,
and another part of it to the varied business that may be set apart for
another. In this way a deal of work may be got through; and the artist,
after leaving off his too intense application, would see, as it were,
what he had been doing with _new eyes_, and would thus be enabled to
criticize the almost endless variety of lights, shades, and effects,
which await his pencil to produce.
Had I been a painter, I never would have copied the works of “old
masters,” or others, however highly they might be esteemed. I would have
gone to nature for all my patterns; for she exhibits an endless variety
not possible to be surpassed, and scarcely ever to be truly imitated. I
would, indeed, have endeavoured to discover how those artists of old
made or compounded their excellent colours, as well as the disposition
of their lights and shades, by which they were enabled to accomplish so
much and so well.
The work of the painter may be said to be as endless as the objects
which nature continually presents to his view; and it is his judgment
that must direct him in the choice of such as may be interesting. In
this he will see what others have done before him, and the shoals and
quicksands that have retarded their progress, as well as the rocks they
have at last entirely split upon. On his taking a proper survey of all
this, he will see the “labour in vain” that has been bestowed upon
useless designs, which have found, and will continue to find, their way
to a garret, while those of an opposite character will, from their
excellence, be preserved with perhaps increasing value for ages to come.
In performing all this, great industry will be required, and it ought
ever to be kept in mind, that, as in morals, nothing is worth listening
to but truth, so in arts nothing is worth looking at but such
productions as have been faithfully copied from nature. Poetry, indeed,
may launch out or take further liberties to charm the intellect of its
votaries. It is only such youths as Providence has gifted with strong
intellectual, innate powers that are perfectly fit to embark in the fine
arts, and the power and propensity is often found early to bud out and
show itself. This is seen in the young musician, who, without having
even learned his A B C’s, breaks out, with a random kind of unrestrained
freedom, to whistle and sing. How often have I been amused at the first
essays of the ploughboy, and how charmed to find him so soon attempt to
equal his whistling and singing master, at the plough stilts, and who,
with avidity unceasing, never stopped till he thought he excelled him.
The future painter is shown by his strong propensity to sketch whatever
objects in nature attract his attention, and excite him to imitate them.
The poet, indeed, has more difficulties to contend with at first than
the others, because he must know language, or be furnished with words
wherewith to enable him to express himself even in his first essays in
doggrel metre and sing-song rhymes. In all the varied ways by which men
of talent are befitted to enlighten, to charm, and to embellish society,
as they advance through life,—if they entertain the true feeling that
every production they behold is created, not by chance, but by
design,—they will find an increasing and endless pleasure in the
exhaustless stores which nature has provided to attract the attention
and promote the happiness of her votaries during the time of their
sojourning here.
The painter need not roam very far from his home, in any part of our
beautiful isles, to meet with plenty of charming scenes from which to
copy nature—either on an extended or a limited scale—and in which he may
give full scope to his genius and to his pencil, either in animate or
inanimate subjects. His search will be crowned with success in the
romantic ravine—the placid holme—the hollow dell—or amongst the pendant
foliage of the richly ornamented dean; or by the sides of burns which
roar or dash along, or run murmuring from pool to pool through their
pebbly beds: all this bordered perhaps by a back-ground of ivy-covered,
hollow oaks (thus clothed as if to hide their age),—of elms, willows,
and birch, which seem kindly to offer shelter to an under-growth of
hazel, whins, broom, juniper, and heather, with the wild rose, the
woodbine, and the bramble, and beset with clumps of fern and foxglove;
while the edges of the mossy braes are covered with a profusion of wild
flowers, “born to blush unseen,” which peep out amongst the creeping
groundlings—the bleaberry, the wild strawberry, the harebell, and the
violet; but I feel a want of words to enable the pen to give an adequate
description of the beauty and simplicity of these neglected spots, which
nature has planted as if to invite the admiration of such as have hearts
and eyes to appreciate and enjoy these her exquisite treats, while she
may perhaps smile at the formal, pruning efforts of the gardener, as
well as doubt whether the pencil of the artist will ever accomplish a
correct imitation. But, be all this as it may, she has spread out her
beauties to feast the eyes, and to invite the admiration of all mankind,
and to whet them up to an ardent love of all her works. How often have
I, in my angling excursions, loitered upon such sunny braes, lost in
extacy, and wishing I could impart to others the pleasures I felt on
such occasions: but they must see with their own eyes to feel as I felt,
and to form an opinion how far the scenes depictured by poets fall short
of the reality. The naturalist’s poet—Thompson—has done much: so have
others. Allan Ramsay’s
“Habbies Howe,
Where a’ the sweets of spring and summer grow,”
may have exhibited such as I have noticed, but the man endued with a fit
turn of mind, and inclined to search out such “beauty-spots,” will not
need the aid of poets to help him on in his enthusiastic ardour.
[Illustration]
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