Seven Discourses on Art | Page 8

of the appearances of nature, the operations of the
passions, and the incidents of life.
The great use in copying, if it be at all useful, should seem to be in
learning to colour; yet even colouring will never be perfectly attained
by servilely copying the mould before you. An eye critically nice can
only be formed by observing well-coloured pictures with attention: and

by close inspection, and minute examination you will discover, at last,
the manner of handling, the artifices of contrast, glazing, and other
expedients, by which good colourists have raised the value of their tints,
and by which nature has been so happily imitated.
I must inform you, however, that old pictures deservedly celebrated for
their colouring are often so changed by dirt and varnish, that we ought
not to wonder if they do not appear equal to their reputation in the eyes
of unexperienced painters, or young students. An artist whose judgment
is matured by long observation, considers rather what the picture once
was, than what it is at present. He has acquired a power by habit of
seeing the brilliancy of tints through the cloud by which it is obscured.
An exact imitation, therefore, of those pictures, is likely to fill the
student's mind with false opinions, and to send him back a colourist of
his own formation, with ideas equally remote from nature and from art,
from the genuine practice of the masters and the real appearances of
things.
Following these rules, and using these precautions, when you have
clearly and distinctly learned in what good colouring consists, you
cannot do better than have recourse to nature herself, who is always at
hand, and in comparison of whose true splendour the best coloured
pictures are but faint and feeble.
However, as the practice of copying is not entirely to be excluded,
since the mechanical practice of painting is learned in some measure by
it, let those choice parts only be selected which have recommended the
work to notice. If its excellence consists in its general effect, it would
be proper to make slight sketches of the machinery and general
management of the picture. Those sketches should be kept always by
you for the regulation of your style. Instead of copying the touches of
those great masters, copy only their conceptions. Instead of treading in
their footsteps, endeavour only to keep the same road. Labour to invent
on their general principles and way of thinking. Possess yourself with
their spirit. Consider with yourself how a Michael Angelo or a
Raffaelle would have treated this subject: and work yourself into a
belief that your picture is to be seen and criticised by them when
completed. Even an attempt of this kind will rouse your powers.
But as mere enthusiasm will carry you but a little way, let me
recommend a practice that may be equivalent, and will perhaps more

efficaciously contribute to your advancement, than even the verbal
corrections of those masters themselves, could they be obtained. What I
would propose is, that you should enter into a kind of competition, by
painting a similar subject, and making a companion to any picture that
you consider as a model. After you have finished your work, place it
near the model, and compare them carefully together. You will then not
only see, but feel your own deficiencies more sensibly than by precepts,
or any other means of instruction. The true principles of painting will
mingle with your thoughts. Ideas thus fixed by sensible objects, will be
certain and definitive; and sinking deep into the mind, will not only be
more just, but more lasting than those presented to you by precepts
only: which will, always be fleeting, variable, and undetermined.
This method of comparing your own efforts with those of some great
master, is indeed a severe and mortifying task, to which none will
submit, but such as have great views, with fortitude sufficient to forego
the gratifications of present vanity for future honour. When the student
has succeeded in some measure to his own satisfaction, and has
felicitated himself on his success, to go voluntarily to a tribunal where
he knows his vanity must be humbled, and all self-approbation must
vanish, requires not only great resolution, but great humility. To him,
however, who has the Ambition to be a real master, the solid
satisfaction which proceeds from a consciousness of his advancement
(of which seeing his own faults is the first step) will very abundantly
compensate for the mortification of present disappointment. There is,
besides, this alleviating circumstance. Every discovery he makes, every
acquisition of knowledge he attains, seems to proceed from his own
sagacity; and thus he acquires a confidence in himself sufficient to keep
up the resolution of perseverance.
We all must have experienced how lazily,