cultivated by the professors of art; and it may be observed, that many
wise and learned men, who have accustomed their minds to admit nothing
for truth but what can be proved by mathematical demonstration, have
seldom any relish for those arts which address themselves to the fancy,
the rectitude and truth of which is known by another kind of proof: and
we may add, that the acquisition of this knowledge requires as much
circumspection and sagacity, as is necessary to attain those truths
which are more capable of demonstration. Reason must ultimately
determine our choice on every occasion; but this reason may still be
exerted ineffectually by applying to taste principles which, though
right as far as they go, yet do not reach the object. No man, for
instance, can deny, that it seems at first view very reasonable, that a
statue which is to carry down to posterity the resemblance of an
individual, should be dressed in the fashion of the times, in the dress
which he himself wore: this would certainly be true, if the dress were
part of the man: but after a time, the dress is only an amusement for an
antiquarian; and if it obstructs the general design of the piece, it is
to be disregarded by the artist. Common sense must here give way to a
higher sense. In the naked form, and in the disposition of the drapery,
the difference between one artist and another is principally seen. But
if he is compelled to exhibit the modern dress, the naked form is
entirely hid, and the drapery is already disposed by the skill of the
tailor. Were a Phidias to obey such absurd commands, he would please no
more than an ordinary sculptor; since, in the inferior parts of every
art, the learned and the ignorant are nearly upon a level.
These were probably among the reasons that induced the sculptor of that
wonderful figure of Laocoon to exhibit him naked, notwithstanding he was
surprised in the act of sacrificing to Apollo, and consequently ought to
have been shown in his sacerdotal habits, if those greater reasons had
not preponderated. Art is not yet in so high estimation with us, as to
obtain so great a sacrifice as the ancients made, especially the
Grecians; who suffered themselves to be represented naked, whether they
were generals, lawgivers, or kings.
Under this head of balancing and choosing the greater reason, or of two
evils taking the least, we may consider the conduct of Rubens in the
Luxembourg gallery, where he has mixed allegorical figures with the
representations of real personages, which must be acknowledged to be a
fault; yet, if the artist considered himself as engaged to furnish this
gallery with a rich, various, and splendid ornament, this could not be
done, at least in an equal degree, without peopling the air and water
with these allegorical figures: he therefore accomplished all that he
purposed. In this case all lesser considerations, which tend to obstruct
the great end of the work, must yield and give way.
The variety which portraits and modern dresses, mixed with allegorical
figures, produce, is not to be slightly given up upon a punctilio of
reason, when that reason deprives the art in a manner of its very
existence. It must always be remembered that the business of a great
painter is to produce a great picture; he must therefore take special
care not to be cajoled by specious arguments out of his materials.
What has been so often said to the disadvantage of allegorical
poetry,--that it is tedious and uninteresting,--cannot with the same
propriety be applied to painting, where the interest is of a different
kind. If allegorical painting produces a greater variety of ideal
beauty, a richer, a more various and delightful composition, and gives
to the artist a greater opportunity of exhibiting his skill, all the
interest he wishes for is accomplished; such a picture not only
attracts, but fixes the attention.
If it be objected that Rubens judged ill at first in thinking it
necessary to make his work so very ornamental, this puts the question
upon new ground. It was his peculiar style; he could paint in no other;
and he was selected for that work, probably, because it was his style.
Nobody will dispute but some of the best of the Roman or Bolognian
schools would have produced a more learned and more noble work.
This leads us to another important province of taste, that of weighing
the value of the different classes of the art, and of estimating them
accordingly.
All arts have means within them of applying themselves with success both
to the intellectual and sensitive part of our natures. It cannot be
disputed, supposing both these means put in practice with equal
abilities, to which we ought to give the preference; to him who
represents the heroic arts and more dignified passions of man, or to him
who, by the help of meretricious ornaments, however elegant and
graceful, captivates the sensuality, as it may be called, of our taste.
Thus the Roman and Bolognian schools are reasonably preferred to the
Venetian, Flemish or Dutch schools, as they address themselves to our
best and noblest faculties.
Well-turned periods in eloquence, or harmony of numbers in poetry, which
are in those arts what colouring is in painting, however highly we may
esteem them, can never be considered as of equal importance with the art
of unfolding truths that are useful to mankind, and which make us better
or wiser. Nor can those works which remind us of the poverty and
meanness of our nature, be considered as of equal rank with what excites
ideas of grandeur, or raises and dignifies humanity; or, in the words of
a late poet, which makes the beholder learn to venerate himself as
man.[11]
It is reason and good sense, therefore, which ranks and estimates every
art, and every part of that art, according to its importance, from the
painter of animated, down to inanimated nature. We will not allow a man,
who shall prefer the inferior style, to say it is his taste; taste here
has nothing, or at least ought to have nothing, to do with the question.
He wants not taste, but sense, and soundness of judgment.
Indeed perfection in an inferior style may be reasonably preferred to
mediocrity in the highest walks of art. A landscape of Claude Lorrain
may be preferred to a history by Luca Giordano; but hence appears the
necessity of the connoisseur’s knowing in what consists the excellence
of each class, in order to judge how near it approaches to perfection.
Even in works of the same kind, as in history-painting, which is
composed of various parts, excellence of an inferior species, carried to
a very high degree, will make a work very valuable, and in some measure
compensate for the absence of the higher kinds of merit. It is the duty
of the connoisseur to know and esteem, as much as it may deserve, every
part of painting: he will not then think even Bassano unworthy of his
notice; who, though totally devoid of expression, sense, grace, or
elegance, may be esteemed on account of his admirable taste of colours,
which, in his best works, are little inferior to those of Titian.
Since I have mentioned Bassano, we must do him likewise the justice to
acknowledge, that though he did not aspire to the dignity of expressing
the characters and passions of men, yet, with respect to facility and
truth in his manner of touching animals of all kinds, and giving them
what painters call _their character_, few have ever excelled him.
To Bassano we may add Paul Veronese and Tintoret, for their entire
inattention to what is justly thought the most essential part of our
art, the expression of the passions. Notwithstanding these glaring
deficiencies, we justly esteem their works; but it must be remembered,
that they do not please from those defects, but from their great
excellences of another kind, and in spite of such transgressions. These
excellences too, as far as they go, are founded in the truth of
_general_ nature: they tell the _truth_, though not _the whole truth_.
By these considerations, which can never be too frequently impressed,
may be obviated two errors, which I observed to have been, formerly at
least, the most prevalent, and to be most injurious to artists; that of
thinking taste and genius to have nothing to do with reason, and that of
taking particular living objects for nature.
I shall now say something on that part of _taste_, which, as I have
hinted to you before, does not belong so much to the external form of
things, but is addressed to the mind, and depends on its original frame,
or to use the expression, the organisation of the soul; I mean the
imagination and the passions. The principles of these are as invariable
as the former, and are to be known and reasoned upon in the same manner,
by an appeal to common sense deciding upon the common feelings of
mankind. This sense, and these feelings, appear to me of equal
authority, and equally conclusive. Now this appeal implies a general
uniformity and agreement in the minds of men. It would be else an idle
and vain endeavour to establish rules of art; it would be pursuing a
phantom, to attempt to move affections with which we were entirely
unacquainted. We have no reason to suspect there is a greater difference
between our minds than between our forms; of which, though there are no
two alike, yet there is a general similitude that goes through the whole
race of mankind; and those who have cultivated their taste, can
distinguish what is beautiful or deformed, or, in other words, what
agrees with or deviates from the general idea of nature, in one case, as
well as in the other.
The internal fabric of our minds, as well as the external form of our
bodies, being nearly uniform; it seems then to follow of course, that as
the imagination is incapable of producing anything originally of itself,
and can only vary and combine those ideas with which it is furnished by
means of the senses, there will be necessarily an agreement in the
imaginations, as in the senses of men. There being this agreement, it
follows, that in all cases, in our lightest amusements, as well as in
our most serious actions and engagements of life, we must regulate our
affections of every kind by that of others. The well-disciplined mind
acknowledges this authority, and submits its own opinion to the public
voice. It is from knowing what are the general feelings and passions of
mankind, that we acquire a true idea of what imagination is; though it
appears as if we had nothing to do but to consult our own particular
sensations, and these were sufficient to ensure us from all error and
mistake.
A knowledge of the disposition and character of the human mind can be
acquired only by experience: a great deal will be learned, I admit, by a
habit of examining what passes in our bosoms, what are our own motives
of action, and of what kind of sentiments we are conscious on any
occasion. We may suppose a uniformity, and conclude that the same effect
will be produced by the same cause in the minds of others. This
examination will contribute to suggest to us matters of inquiry; but we
can never be sure that our own sensations are true and right, till they
are confirmed by more extensive observation. One man opposing another
determines nothing; but a general union of minds, like a general
combination of the forces of all mankind, makes a strength that is
irresistible. In fact, as he who does not know himself, does not know
others, so it may be said with equal truth, that he who does not know
others, knows himself but very imperfectly.
A man who thinks he is guarding himself against prejudices by resisting
the authority of others, leaves open every avenue to singularity,
vanity, self-conceit, obstinacy, and many other vices, all tending to
warp the judgment, and prevent the natural operation of his faculties.
This submission to others is a deference which we owe, and indeed are
forced involuntarily to pay. In fact, we never are satisfied with our
opinions, whatever we may pretend, till they are ratified and confirmed
by the suffrages of the rest of mankind. We dispute and wrangle for
ever; we endeavour to get men to come to us, when we do not go to them.
He therefore who is acquainted with the works which have pleased
different ages and different countries, and has formed his opinion on
them, has more materials, and more means of knowing what is analogous to
the mind of man, than he who is conversant only with the works of his
own age or country. What has pleased, and continues to please, is likely
to please again: hence are derived the rules of art, and on this
immovable foundation they must ever stand.
This search and study of the history of the mind ought not to be
confined to one art only. It is by the analogy that one art bears to
another, that many things are ascertained, which either were but faintly
seen, or, perhaps, would not have been discovered at all, if the
inventor had not received the first hints from the practices of a sister
art on a similar occasion.[12] The frequent allusions which every man
who treats of any art is obliged to make to others, in order to
illustrate and confirm his principles, sufficiently show their near
connection and inseparable relation.
All arts having the same general end, which is to please; and addressing
themselves to the same faculties through the medium of the senses; it
follows that their rules and principles must have as great affinity, as
the different materials and the different organs or vehicles by which
they pass to the mind, will permit them to retain.[13]
We may therefore conclude, that the real substance, as it may be called,
of what goes under the name of taste, is fixed and established in the
nature of things; that there are certain and regular causes by which the
imagination and passions of men are affected; and that the knowledge of
these causes is acquired by a laborious and diligent investigation of
nature, and by the same slow progress as wisdom or knowledge of every
kind, however instantaneous its operations may appear when thus
acquired.
It has been often observed, that the good and virtuous man alone can
acquire this true or just relish even of works of art. This opinion will
not appear entirely without foundation, when we consider that the same
habit of mind, which is acquired by our search after truth in the more
serious duties of life, is only transferred to the pursuit of lighter
amusements. The same disposition, the same desire to find something
steady, substantial, and durable, on which the mind can lean as it were,
and rest with safety, actuates us in both cases. The subject only is
changed. We pursue the same method in our search after the idea of
beauty and perfection in each; of virtue, by looking forwards beyond
ourselves to society, and to the whole; of arts, by extending our views
in the same manner to all ages and all times.
Every art, like our own, has in its composition fluctuating as well as
fixed principles. It is an attentive inquiry into their difference that
will enable us to determine how far we are influenced by custom and
habit, and what is fixed in the nature of things.
To distinguish how much has solid foundation, we may have recourse to
the same proof by which some hold that wit ought to be tried; whether it
preserves itself when translated. That wit is false, which can subsist
only in one language; and that picture which pleases only one age or one
nation owes its reception to some local or accidental association of
ideas.
We may apply this to every custom and habit of life. Thus the general
principles of urbanity, politeness, or civility, have been the same in
all nations; but the mode in which they are dressed is continually
varying. The general idea of showing respect is by making yourself less;
but the manner, whether by bowing the body, kneeling, prostration,
pulling off the upper part of our dress, or taking away the lower,[14]
is a matter of custom.
Thus, in regard to ornaments,--it would be unjust to conclude that
because they were at first arbitrarily contrived, they are therefore
undeserving of our attention; on the contrary, he who neglects the
cultivation of those ornaments, acts contrary to nature and reason. As
life would be imperfect without its highest ornaments, the arts, so
these arts themselves would be imperfect without _their_ ornaments.
Though we by no means ought to rank these with positive and substantial
beauties, yet it must be allowed, that a knowledge of both is
essentially requisite towards forming a complete, whole and perfect
taste. It is in reality from the ornaments, that arts receive their
peculiar character and complexion; we may add, that in them we find the
characteristical mark of a national taste; as by throwing up a feather
in the air, we know which way the wind blows, better than by a more
heavy matter.
The striking distinction between the works of the Roman, Bolognian, and
Venetian schools, consists more in that general effect which is produced
by colours, than in the more profound excellences of the art; at least
it is from thence that each is distinguished and known at first sight.
Thus it is the ornaments, rather than the proportions of architecture,
which at the first glance distinguish the different orders from each
other; the Doric is known by its triglyphs, the Ionic by its volutes,
and the Corinthian by its acanthus.
What distinguishes oratory from a cold narration is a more liberal,
though chaste, use of those ornaments which go under the name of
figurative and metaphorical expressions; and poetry distinguishes itself
from oratory, by words and expressions still more ardent and glowing.
What separates and distinguishes poetry is more particularly the
ornament of _verse_: it is this which gives it its character, and is an
essential without which it cannot exist. Custom has appropriated
different metre to different kinds of composition, in which the world is
not perfectly agreed. In England the dispute is not yet settled, which
is to be preferred, rhyme or blank verse. But however we disagree about
what these metrical ornaments shall be, that some metre is essentially
necessary is universally acknowledged.
In poetry or eloquence, to determine how far figurative or metaphorical
language may proceed, and when it begins to be affectation or beside the
truth, must be determined by taste; though this taste, we must never
forget, is regulated and formed by the presiding feelings of
mankind,--by those works which have approved themselves to all times and
all persons. Thus, though eloquence has undoubtedly an essential and
intrinsic excellence, and immovable principles common to all languages,
founded in the nature of our passions and affections; yet it has its
ornaments and modes of address, which are merely arbitrary. What is
approved in the eastern nations as grand and majestic, would be
considered by the Greeks and Romans as turgid and inflated; and they, in
return, would be thought by the Orientals to express themselves in a
cold and insipid manner.
We may add likewise to the credit of ornaments, that it is by their
means that art itself accomplishes its purpose. Fresnoy calls colouring,
which is one of the chief ornaments of painting, _lena sororis_, that
which procures lovers and admirers to the more valuable excellences of
the art.
It appears to be the same right turn of mind which enables a man to
acquire the _truth_, or the just idea of what is right, in the
ornaments, as in the more stable principles of art. It has still the
same centre of perfection, though it is the centre of a smaller circle.
To illustrate this by the fashion of dress, in which there is allowed to
be a good or bad taste. The component parts of dress are continually
changing from great to little, from short to long; but the general form
still remains; it is still the same general dress, which is
comparatively fixed, though on a very slender foundation; but it is on
this which fashion must rest. He who invents with the most success, or
dresses in the best taste, would probably, from the same sagacity
employed to greater purposes, have discovered equal skill, or have
formed the same correct taste, in the highest labours of art.
I have mentioned taste in dress, which is certainly one of the lowest
subjects to which this word is applied; yet, as I have before observed,
there is a right even here, however narrow its foundation respecting the
fashion of any particular nation. But we have still more slender means
of determining, to which of the different customs of different ages or
countries we ought to give the preference, since they seem to be all
equally removed from nature. If a European, when he has cut off his
beard, and put false hair on his head, or bound up his own natural hair
in regular hard knots, as unlike nature as he can possibly make it; and
after having rendered them immovable by the help of the fat of hogs, has
covered the whole with flour, laid on by a machine with the utmost
regularity; if, when thus attired, he issues forth, and meets a Cherokee
Indian, who has bestowed as much time at his toilet, and laid on with
equal care and attention his yellow and red ochre on particular parts of
his forehead or cheeks, as he judges most becoming: whoever of these two
despises the other for this attention to the fashion of his country,
which ever first feels himself provoked to laugh, is the barbarian.
All these fashions are very innocent; neither worth disquisition, nor
any endeavour to alter them; as the charge would, in all probability, be
equally distant from nature. The only circumstance against which
indignation may reasonably be removed, is, where the operation is
painful or destructive of health; such as some of the practices at
Otaheite, and the strait-lacing of the English ladies; of the last of
which practices, how destructive it must be to health and long life, the
Professor of Anatomy took an opportunity of proving a few days since in
this Academy.
It is in dress, as in things of greater consequence. Fashions originate
from those only who have the high and powerful advantages of rank,
birth, and fortune. Many of the ornaments of art, those at least for
which no reason can be given, are transmitted to us, are adopted, and
acquire their consequence from the company in which we have been used to
see them. As Greece and Rome are the fountains from whence have flowed
all kinds of excellence, to that veneration which they have a right to
claim for the pleasure and knowledge which they have afforded us, we
voluntarily add our approbation of every ornament and every custom that
belonged to them, even to the fashion of their dress. For it may be
observed that, not satisfied with them in their own place, we make no
difficulty of dressing statues of modern heroes or senators in the
fashion of the Roman armour or peaceful robe; we go so far as hardly to
bear a statue in any other drapery.
The figures of the great men of those nations have come down to us in
sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent specimens of
ancient art. We have so far associated personal dignity to the persons
thus represented, and the truth of art to their manner of
representation, that it is not in our power any longer to separate them.
This is not so in painting; because having no excellent ancient
portraits, that connection was never formed. Indeed we could no more
venture to paint a general officer in a Roman military habit, than we
could make a statue in the present uniform. But since we have no ancient
portraits,--to show how ready we are to adopt those kind of prejudices,
we make the best authority among the modern serve the same purpose. The
great variety of excellent portraits with which Vandyck has enriched
this nation, we are not content to admire for their real excellence,
but extend our approbation even to the dress which happened to be the
fashion of that age. We all very well remember how common it was a few
years ago for portraits to be drawn in this fantastic dress; and this
custom is not yet entirely laid aside. By this means it must be
acknowledged very ordinary pictures acquired something of the air and
effect of the works of Vandyck, and appeared therefore at first sight to
be better pictures than they really were: they appeared so, however, to
those only who had the means of making this association; and when made,
it was irresistible. But this association is nature, and refers to that
secondary truth that comes from conformity to general prejudice and
opinion; it is therefore not merely fantastical. Besides the prejudice
which we have in favour of ancient dresses, there may be likewise other
reasons for the effect which they produce; among which we may justly
rank the simplicity of them, consisting of little more than one single
piece of drapery, without those whimsical capricious forms by which all
other dresses are embarrassed.