of this and for the consolation of those who may be a little piqued at what has been said), that painters of every condition are stronger instances of the almost unavoidable power of prejudice than any other people.
What are all the manners, as they are called, of even the greatest masters which are known to differ so much from one another, and all of them from nature, but so many strong proofs of their inviolable attachment to falsehood, converted into established truth in their own eyes by self-opinion? Rubens would, in all probability, have been as much disgusted at the dry manner of Poussin, as Poussin was at the extravagance of Rubens. The prejudices of inferior proficients in favour of the imperfections of their own performances are still more amazing. Their eyes are so quick in discerning the faults of others, while at the same time they are so totally blind to their own! Indeed it would be well for us all if one of Gulliver’s flappers could be placed at our elbows to remind us at every stroke how much prejudice and self-opinion perverts our sight.
Claude Monet, Le Déjeuner sur l’Herbe (Luncheon on the Grass), 1866. Oil on canvas, 130 × 181 cm. Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow.
From what has been said, I hope it appears that those who have no bias of any kind, either from their own practice or the lessons of others, are fittest to examine the truth of the principles laid down in the following pages. However, as everyone may not have had an opportunity of being sufficiently acquainted with the influences that were given, I will offer one of a familiar kind, which may be a hint for their observing a thousand more. How gradually does the eye grow reconciled even to a disagreeable dress as it becomes more and more the fashion, and how quickly to return to the dislike of it once it is left off and a new one has taken possession of the mind? So vague is taste when it has no solid principles for its foundation. Notwithstanding, I have told you my design of considering minutely the variety of lines which serve to raise the ideas of bodies in the mind and are undoubtedly to be considered as drawn on the surfaces only of solid or opaque bodies. However, the endeavouring to conceive as accurate an idea as is possible of the inside of those surfaces, if I may be allowed the expression, will be a great assistance to us in the pursuit of our present inquiry. In order for me to be well understood, let every object under our consideration be imagined to have its inward contents scooped out so nicely as to have nothing of it left but a thin shell; exactly corresponding, both in its inner and outer surface, to the shape of the object itself. And let us likewise suppose this thin shell to be made up of very fine threads, closely connected together, and equally perceptible, whether the eye is supposed to observe them from without, or within; and we shall find the ideas of the two surfaces of this shell will naturally coincide. The very word, shell, makes us seem to see both surfaces alike.
Another advantage of considering objects thus merely as shells composed of lines is that by these means we obtain the true and full idea of what is called the outlines of a figure, which has been confined within limits which are too narrow, by taking it only from drawings on paper. Such as in the example of the sphere given above, every one of the imaginary circular threads has a right to be considered as an outline of the sphere, as well as those which divide the half that is seen, from that which is not seen; and if the eye is supposed to move regularly round it, each of these threads will succeed as equally as any another in the office of outlines in the narrow and limited sense of the word – and the instant any one of these threads, during this motion of the eye, comes into sight on one side, its opposite thread is lost and disappears on the other. He who will thus go to the trouble of acquiring perfect ideas of the distances, bearings, and oppositions of several material points and lines in the surfaces of even the most irregular figures will gradually arrive at the knack of recalling them into his mind when the objects themselves are not before him, and they will be as strong and perfect as those of the most plain and regular forms, such as cubes and spheres. They will be of infinite service to those who invent and draw from fancy, as well as enable those who draw from the life to be more correct. In this manner, therefore, I would request the reader to assist his imagination as much as possible, in considering every object, as if his eye were placed within it. As straight lines are easily conceived, the difficulty of following this method in the most simple and regular forms will be less than that which may first be imagined; and its use in the more compounded figure will be greater.
But now it is time to be finished with the introduction and I shall proceed to consider the fundamental principles, which are generally allowed to give elegance and beauty, when duly blended together, to compositions of all and varying kinds. I will also point out to my readers, the particular force of each, in those compositions in nature and art, which seem to most please and entertain the eye, and give said grace and beauty, which is the subject of this inquiry. The principles I mean are fitness, variety, uniformity, simplicity, intricacy, and quantity – all of which cooperate in the production of beauty, occasionally mutually correcting and restraining one another.
Claude Monet, Woman with a Parasol – Madame Monet and Her Son, 1875. Oil on canvas, 100 × 81 cm. National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C.
General Rules of Composition
Tommaso Casai, known as Masaccio, The Holy Trinity, c. 1428. Fresco, 667 × 317 cm. Santa Maria Novella, Florence.
Of Fitness
Fitness of the parts of the design for which every individual thing is formed, either by art or nature, is first to be considered, as it is of the greatest consequence to the beauty of the whole. This is so evident that even the sense of seeing the great inlet of beauty is itself so strongly biased by it, that if the mind, on account of this kind of value in a form, esteem it beautiful, though on all other considerations it be not so, the eye grows insensible of its want of beauty, and even begins to be pleased, especially after it has had a considerable amount of time to become acquainted with it.
It is well known, on the other hand, that forms of great elegance often disgust the eye by being improperly applied. Thus, twisted columns are undoubtedly ornamental; but as they convey an idea of weakness, they always displease when they are improperly used as supports to anything that is bulky or appears heavy.
The bulks and proportions of objects are governed by fitness and propriety. It is this that has established the size and proportion of chairs, tables, and all sorts of utensils and furniture. It is this that has fixed the dimensions of pillars, arches, etc. for the support of great weight, and so regulated all the orders in architecture, as well as the sizes of windows and doors, etc.
Thus, regardless of the size of a building, the steps of the stairs, the seats in the windows, all must be continued of their usual heights or they would lose their beauty with their fitness. For example, in ship-building the dimensions of every part are confined and regulated by fitness for sailing. When a vessel sails well, the sailors always call her a beauty. The two ideas have such a connection!
The general dimensions of the parts of the human body are adapted thus to the uses for which they are designed. The trunk is the most capacious, on account of the quantity of its contents, and the thigh is larger than the lower leg, because it has both the lower leg and foot to move, while the lower leg has only the foot, etc.
Fitness of parts also constitutes and distinguishes, in great measure, the characteristics of objects; as, for example, the race-horse differs as much in quality, character, and its figure from the war-horse, like the Hercules from the Mercury.
The race-horse, having all its parts of such dimensions as best fit the purposes of speed, acquires, on that account, a consistent character of one sort of beauty. To illustrate this, suppose the beautiful head and gracefully-turned neck of the war-horse were placed on the shoulders of the race-horse, instead of his own awkward straight one. It would disgust and deform rather than
