THE

THEORY OF PAINTING.

BECAUSE

SE pictures are univerfally delightful, and accordingly make one part of our ornamental furniture, many, I believe, confider the art of Painting but as a pleafing fuperfluity; at best, that it holds but a low rank with refpect to its ufefulness to mankind.

If there were in reality no more in it than an innocent amufement; if it were only one of thofe fweets that the Divine Providence has bestowed on us, to render the good of our prefent being fuperior to the evil of it; or whether it be or no, to render life fomewhat more eligible, it ought to be confidered as a bounty from Heaven, and to hold a place in our esteem accordingly. Pleasure, however it be depreciated, is what we all eagerly and inceffantly pursue; and when innocent, and confequently a divine benefaction, is to be confidered in that view, and as an ingredient in human life, which the Supreme Wifdom has judged neceffary.

Painting is that pleafant, innocent amufement, and as fuch it holds its place amongst our enjoyments. But it is more; it is of great use, as being one of the means whereby we convey our ideas. to each other, and which, in fome refpects, has the advantage of all the reft. And thus it must be ranked with these, and accordingly esteemed not only as an enjoyment, but as another language, which completes the whole art of communicating our thoughts,

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one of thofe particulars which raifes the dignity of human nature fo much above the brutes; and which is the more confiderable, as being a gift beflowed but upon a few even of our own fpecies.

Words paint to the imagination, but every man forms the thing to himself in his own way; language is very imperfe&t: there are innumerable colours and figures for which we have no name, and an infinity of other ideas which have no certain words univerfally agreed upon as denoting them: whereas the painter can convey his ideas of these things clearly, and without ambiguity; and what he fays every one understands in the fenfe he intends it.

And this is a language that is univerfal; men of all nations hear the poet, moralift, hiftorian, divine, or whatever other character the painter affumes, fpeaking to them in their own mother tongue.

Painting has another advantage over words, and that is, it pours ideas into our minds, words only drop them. The whole scene opens at one view, whereas the other way lifts up the curtain by little and little. We fee (for example) the fine profpe&t at Conftantinople, an eruption of Mount Etna, the death of Socrates, the battle of Blenheim, the perfon of King Charles I. &c. in an inftant.

The Theatre gives us reprefentations of things different from both these, and a kind of compofition of both: there we fee a fort of moving, fpeaking pictures, but thefe are tranfient; whereas Painting remains, and is always at hand. And what is more confiderable, the stage never reprefents things truly, especially if the scene be remote, and the story ancient. A man that is acquainted with the habits and cuftoms of antiquity, comes to revive or improve his ideas relating to the misfortune of Edipus, or the death of Julius Cæfar, and finds a fort of fantastical creatures, the like of which he never met with in any ftatue, bas-relief, or medal; his juft notions of these things are all contradicted and difturbed. But Painting fhews us thefe brave people as they were in their own. genuine greatnefs, and noble fimplicity.

The

The pleasure that Painting, as a dumb art, gives us, is like what we have from mufic; its beautiful forms, colours and harmony, are to the eye what sounds, and the harmony of that kind are to the ear; and in both we are delighted in obferving the fkill of the artift in proportion to it, and our own judgment to difcover it. It is this beauty and harmony which gives us fo much pleasure at the fight of natural pictures, a profpect, a fine sky, a garden, &c. and the copies of thefe, which renew the ideas of them, are confequently pleafant: thus we see Spring, Summer, and Autumn, in the depth of Winter; and froft and fnow, if we please, when the Dog-star rages. By the help of this art we have the pleasure of feeing a vaft variety of things and actions, of travelling by land or water, of knowing the humours of low life without mixing with it, of viewing tempefts, battles, inundations; and in fhort, of all real, or imagined appearances in heaven, earth, or hell; and this as we fit at our eafe, and caft our eye round a room: we may ramble with delight from one idea to another, or fix upon any as we please. Nor do we barely fee this variety of natural objects, but in good pictures we always fee nature improved, or at least the best choice of it. We thus have nobler and finer ideas of men, animals, landfcapes, &c. than we fhould perhaps have ever had. We fee particular accidents and beauties which are rarely, or never feen by us; and this is no inconfiderable addition to the pleasure.

And thus we see the perfons and faces of famous men, the originals of which are out of our reach, as being gone down with the ftream of time, or in diftant places: and thus too we see our relatives and friends, whether living or dead, as they have been in all the flages of life. In picture we never die, never decay, or grow older.

But when we come to confider this art as it informs the mind, its merit is raised; it ftill gives pleasure, but it is not merely fuch. The painter now is not only what a wife orator who is a beautiful

perfon, and has a graceful action, is to a deaf man, but what fuch a one is to an understanding audience.

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And thus Painting not only fhews us how things appear, but tells us what they are. We are informed of countries, habits, manners, arms, buildings civil and military, animals, plants, minerals, their natures and properties; and in fine, of all kinds of bodies whatsoever.

This art is moreover fubfervient to many other ufeful fciences; it gives the architect his models; to phyficians and furgeons, the texture and forms of all the parts of human bodies, and of all the phænomena of nature. All mechanics ftand in need of it. But it is not neceffary to enlarge here the many explanatory prints in books, and without which, those books would in a great measure be unintelligible, fufficiently fhew the ufefulness of this art to mankind.

I pretend not to go regularly through all particulars, or here, or elsewhere, throughout this whole undertaking, to fay all that is to be faid on the fubject; I write as the fcraps of time I can allow myself to employ this way will permit me; and I write for my own diverfion, and my fon's improvement (who well deferves all the affiftance I can give, though he needs it as little as moft young men; to whom I muft do this further juftice, as to own that I am beholden to him, in my turn, for fome confiderable hints in this undertaking.) And if, moreover, what I write may hereafter happen. to be of ufe to any body elfe; whether it be to put a lover of art in a method to judge of a picture (and which in most things a gentleman may do altogether as well as a painter) or to awaken forne useful hints in some of my own profeffion; at least to perfuade fuch to do no difhonour to it by a low or vicious behaviour; if these confequences happen, it will be a fatisfaction to me over and above. But to return, and to come to what is most material.

Painting gives us not only the perfons, but the characters of great The air of the head, and the mein in general, gives strong

indications