them as intended for the solitary gratification of a few individuals. If a more generous desire of affording pleasure to the public animated the opulent, and guided them in giving orders to painters, they would naturally choose subjects likely to attract attention. The painter would no longer be directed to exhibit the mean physiognomy of the lately-enriched merchant, or of his eldest son, nor to pourtray the tawdry finery of his unfashionable wife and daughters, but to select some fable of ancient or modern poetry, suited to his powers, some well-known deed of our own days, or of more remote times. The wealthy merchants of Venice and of Genoa accordingly directed their magnificence into this more liberal and useful course; and we see that the great masters whom they employed left behind them works of general interest; not the unimportant faces of successful tradesmen. The public, indeed, to whose judgment the painting was submitted, would have laughed aloud at the conceit of the draper; why, they would scornfully ask, has he had his likeness painted for us? cannot we see him in his shop, whenever we desire it, whilst he lives? and, when he is gone, will they not easily find as handsome a man to stand behind the counter and to measure out the cloth? Whenever a public man, or any man, is requested by a public body, that his likeness should be taken, that it may be hung up in some public place, it is well, let him comply with the request; but when a private individual, of his own mere motion, is about to order his portrait, let him consider before he causes so much good art to be employed upon a matter of private interest, and be well assured, that there are not three respectable persons living, who do not see the original at least as often as they wish, and who, when he is dead, if they shall survive him, will desire to be in any way reminded of him. In the rich convents, which were great patrons of the arts, we do not see rows of portraits; the skill of the painter was not wasted in recording the individual varieties in the saturnine faces of the monks: subjects of general interest were chosen; it is true, that they were commonly religious ones, and it is also true, that such subjects are seldom well adapted for painting. Many, being altogether preternatural, and frequently even inconceivable, are beyond this powerful art, and cannot be represented by it, however exquisite it may be. Many are of a sorrowful and highly painful character, and are accordingly unfit for the painter, because they do not leave in the mind of the spectator that agreeable impression which it ought to be the aim of art to produce; and many of the miracles and legends of the Catholic Church, to speak freely and ingenuously, are absurd and monstrous, and even ridiculous, and

consequently as little calculated to advance true religion, as good taste. But the paintings that have been executed under the patronage of ecclesiastics, however faulty they may often be in other respects, have this merit at least, that they are not the portraits of insignificant individuals. Domestic affection, and private friendship, ought to be satisfied with the humbler skill of the miniature-painter. His elegant and portable productions will supply their longing eyes in a more commodious and agreeable manner than the canvass of the more dignified artists, which ought to be consecrated to public occasions.

The excessive elaboration of our modern drawings in watercolours, has also been condemned, as hostile to the progress of art. Nothing more can be done in water-colours, it is said, than to produce a spirited sketch; the result of labour and high-finish, is to destroy the sketchy appearance, and thus nothing is effected; it is merely an elaborate failure. It has been maintained also, that the encouragement given to engraving at present, is disproportionate. But it may be, that the true cause of this excess, if it really exists, is, that since we are rarely permitted to see the original paintings, engravings are necessarily adopted as substi

tutes.

In order to elevate the art of painting to the rank which it ought to hold, three things are indispensably necessary. 1st, That our artists should receive a suitable education. 2dly, That they should return to the oldest masters, and copy their works: for many years our painters have consumed their hours in copying Raphael, Coreggio, and Titian; and if experience may be our guide, it is quite clear, that this path does not lead to excellence. 3dly, That they should practise painting in fresco. In order to do, we must dare; and this style of painting can alone teach the artist to dare. The magnitude of walls, and ceilings, and the great distance at which the work is to be viewed, give a full scope for genius. By adorning great buildings the Florentine school became noble; in adorning great buildings the Roman school reached the summit of glory; by adorning great buildings, the Venetian school arrived at a high degree of excellence; and so of the others, for they all followed the same course; and little pictures, and a littleness of style, equally characterise the Dutch school. Apelles, when comparing himself with Protogenes, said, perhaps he is equal if not superior to me in some things; but I am sure 'I excel him in this, I know when to have done :' frescopainting has the great advantage, from its peculiar nature, of compelling the painter, in spite of himself, to be Apelles, and to have done. The great scale on which it is executed, creates a

greatness of manner; and the mode of operating induces daring and a certain despatch; the very act of flying is favourable to the growth of the wings:

'Al volo mio sentio crescer le penne.'

It is moreover a powerful antidote against a hard style, which is a prevailing vice among modern painters.

The previous preparation of the drawings or cartoons, with great care and accuracy, may be likened to the composition of a speech; the rapid execution of the work on the fresh plaster, to the delivery of it to the public. Too much care, and too long a time, cannot be employed in the preparation of either; but both must, of necessity, be finally performed in a very limited period, within the compass of a day. There is in both cases the fervour, the glow, the excitement, the inspiration of the moment acting upon, and perfecting, and, as it were, giving a crown and last finish to study long continued, and to materials deeply meditated upon. There is the same necessity that the mind of the artist or the orator should be deeply imbued and filled with the subject, familiarly conversant with every part in detail, and with the entire plan of the great work, and that it should be continually present at once, during the whole period of execution. Whilst speeches were carefully composed for actual business, and were intended to be delivered, we had models of the most perfect and finished eloquence; but as soon as they began to be written for perusal and publication only, they ceased to have value, or to be of merit; they became puerile, artificial, affected, and inefficient; the paltry declamations of the scholastic and pedantical rhetorician; idle clamours, mere pamphlets. In like manner, as soon as the practice ceased, of transferring the compositions of the painter to the ceiling, or the wall, the grand style of art was at an end, and in truth, all the chief merits of painting disappeared by degrees, and the whole art fell into decay, and dwindled away, until it reached its present puny dimensions. In order that oratory may flourish, it is absolutely necessary that speeches should be composed on matters of real business, and should actually be delivered in popular assemblies; and to restore painting to its former splendour, and, if possible, to transcend it, the practice of painting in fresco must be revived.

If we would secure the attainment of the highest degree of excellence in any art, we must procure the union of the two grand causes of excellence, previous study, long continued and profound, and a powerful excitement at the moment of execution. It is essential that a great work should be completed whilst the mind is in a state of excitement: oil-paintings are commonly

begun when the fancy is warm and full of the subject, but too often before it has been fully considered,—and the artist's imagination cools before the work is finished; or, he perhaps takes up another matter, and the first is finished with haste or indifference, because the time in which it might have been happily perfected, has been dawdled away, or employed about something else. Such paintings, accordingly, are too often completed when the mind is cold, and the original conception, if not entirely forgotten, at best but half felt and remembered. It is no refutation of this position to assert, that some of the masterpieces of the art are in oils; this cannot be denied; but they are the productions of artists, who were in the constant practice of painting in fresco also. The salutary habits that had been formed, and were continually exercised, under the one system, were beneficial to, and operated powerfully, though perhaps unconsciously, in favour of the other; and were the true cause of the extraordinary excellence in a different line to which the artist attained. Good habits, and sound discipline, are useful not only in those matters respecting which they have been originally formed, but in all other cases also, where a well-drilled understanding is brought into action. The scholar who has been trained for years in the study of language, and has pursued philosophy with the closest and most accurate investigation, if he be required to turn his attention to history or jurisprudence, cannot fail to prove the efficacy of his intellectual training, in its application to new subjects.

In reading the Latin classics, we find continually, that the epithet, painted, is used on various occasions to denote the most agreeable kind of beauty; it is unnecessary to quote authorities, for many will immediately occur to the scholar. It is impossible to form an idea of the force and justness of the epithet here; but in travelling in Italy, and after having remained a short time in that country, and visited a few of the public buildings, it strikes every one forcibly; and he says to himself, or to his companion, Now I understand the ancient authors,-now it is intelligible to me, why they insist so strongly on the beauty of every thing that is painted, and why they call all beautiful things painted. The word Painting conveys an inferior idea of beauty to those, who have seen only oil-paintings, varnished, and, as it were, greasy; which can only be looked at in one point of view, and not perfectly in any; who have beheld only some small object confined in a frame; who have not gazed on a spacious edifice, entirely and delicately coloured, in an agreeable and natural tone, which

may be looked at with advantage from all points, and which, however seen, is beautiful.

There is a severe but very delightful kind of Fresco, which, from expressing the lights and shadows, without giving the colours, is called Chiaroscuro, or from being executed with one colour only, is termed Monochromatic. It has the effect of a fine engraving, but on a large scale. Philostratus, in the Life of Apollonius, seems to show, that the Monochroma of the ancients was the same as the modern Chiaroscuro; he says, Painting 'does not consist of colours alone, for one colour sufficed for the more ancient of the painters, and as the art advanced four 'were adopted, and afterwards more; and we ought to call that 'painting which consists of outline, and of light and shade without colour. If an Indian be painted with white outlines, yet 'he will appear to be black, for the flatness of his nose, the up'right curls, and the superfluous cheek, and the expression about 'the eyes, as it were of terror, make what we see appear black, ' and show to those who look not inattentively, that it is an In'dian.' The art of engraving is now the most powerful and popular example of the Monochroma. In a good engraving we clearly distinguish the materials and texture of the garments; the colour of the flesh, of the hair and beard; the eye, the air, and the most striking and vivid likeness in portraits; the different nature of trees and ground, and, as it were, the colours of the sky and water in a landscape; although in truth we see nothing more than the black of the ink and the white of the paper, which do not supply the place of colours, but only of light and shade. We may enjoy the study of prints in our portfolios; and there is no reason why we should not see the same wonderful mastery over light and shade displayed upon our walls. Engravings of course can only be executed upon a small scale, and, consequently, they in some degree strain the eyes ; it is a great advantage to see objects in the large; and it seems to be necessary in order to produce a powerful pathetic effect. The Monochromatic works were highly esteemed, Jam vero Apellis, quam Græci Monochromaton appellant, etiam adoravi,' says Petronius Arbiter. The colour used by the ancients for this purpose is said to have been generally red, or of a reddish hue. It has also been conjectured, that the first painters began by copying statues, or reliefs, which were of one colour; and that one colour only was used on that account, in their earlier compositions. When such paintings in chiaroscuro are well done, due attention being paid to the peculiar style, it is hardly possible to distinguish them from reliefs.