judgment beyond their last; and must in other parts, yield to the more general knowledge of the painter..

As we are, in the first place, pleased with viewing imitation; so we are, in the second place, with considering the art by which the imitation is performed. The pleasure we derive from this, is in proportion to the difficulty we apprehend in the execution, and the degree of genius necessary to the performance of it. But this difficulty, and the degree of genius exerted in surmounting it, can only be well known to the persons exercised in the practice of the art.

When a person has acquired an exact idea of an object, there is still a great difficulty in expressing that correctedly upon his canvas. With regard to objects of a steady figure, they may perhaps be imitated ed by an ordinary artist; but transient objects, of a momentary appearance, require still a nicer hand. To catch the more delicate expressions of the human soul, requires an art of which few are possessed, and none can sufficiently admire, but those who have themselves attempted it. These are the difficulties of painting, in forming even a correct outline; and the painter has yet more to struggle with. To represent a solid upon a plain surface, by the position and size of the several parts; to be exact in the perspective; by these, and by the distribution of light and shade, to make every figure stand out from the canvass; and, lastly, by natural and glowing colours, to animate and give life to the whole; these are parts of the painter's art, from which chiefly the pleasure of the spectator, arising from his consciousness of the imitation, is derived, but at the same time, such as the uninformed spectator has but an imperfect no-,tion of, and, therefore, must feel an inferior degree of pleasure in contemplating.

The next source of the pleasures derived from painting, above taken notice of, is that arising from

the beauty, the grace, the elegance of the object, imitated. When a painter is happy enough to make such a choice, he does it by a constitutional taste that may be common to all. Raphael could not learn it from his master Pietro Perugino; Rubens, though conversant with the best models of antiquity, could never acquire it. In judging, therefore, of this part of painting, the artist has scarcely any advantage above the common spectator. But it is to be observed, that a person of the finest natural taste cannot become suddenly an elegans formarum spectator, an expression which it is scarce possible to translate. It is only by comparison that we arrive at the knowledge of what is most perfect in its kind. The Madonas of Carlo Maratt appear exquisitely beautiful; and it is only when we see those of Raphael that we discern their imperfections. A person may even be sensible of the imperfections of forms; but, at the same time, may find it impossible to conceive, with precision, an idea of the most perfect. Thus Raphael could not form an idea of the Divine Majesty, till he saw it so forcibly expressed in the paintings of Michael Angelo. As our judgment, therefore, of beauty, grace, and elegance, though founded in perception, becomes accurate only by comparison and experience, so the painter, exercised in the contemplation of forms, is likely to be a better judge of beauty than any person less experienced.

The last and most considerable pleasure received from painting, is that arising from composition. This is properly distinguished into two kinds, the picturesque, and the poetical. To the first belongs the distribution of the several figures, so that they may all be united and conspire in one single effect; while each is so placed, as to present itself in proportion to its importance in the action represented. To this also belongs the diversifying and contrasting the attitudes of different figures, as well as the several mem

bers of each. Above all, the picturesque composition has belonging to it the distribution of light and shade, while every single figure has its proper share of each. One mass of light, and its proportionable shade, should unite the whole piece, and make every part of it conspire in one single effect. To this also belongs the harmony, as well as the contrast, of colours. Now, in all this ordonnance picturesque there appears an exquisite art only to be acquired by custom and habit; and of the merit of the execution, no person can be a judge but one who has been in some measure in the practice of it. It is enough to say, that hardly any body will doubt, that Paulo Veronese was a better judge of the disposition of figures than Michael Angelo; and that Caravaggio was a better judge of the distribution of light and shade than Raphael; so, in some measure, every painter, in proportion to his knowledge, must be a better judge of the merit of picturesque composition, than any person who judges from the effects only.

With regard to poetical composition, it comprehends the choice of the action to be represented, and of the point of time at which the persons are to be introduced, the invention of circumstances to be employed, the expression to be given to every actor; and, lastly, the observance of the costume, that is, giving to each person an air suitable to his rank, representing the complexion and features that express This temperament, his age, and the climate of his ectntry, and dressing him in the habit of the time in which he lived, and of the nation to which he belongs.

From this enumeration of the several considerations that employ the history-painter, it will immediately appear, why this department of painting is called poetical composition; for here, in truth, it is the imagination of a poet that employs the hand of a painter. This imagination is nowise necessarily con

nected with the imitative hand. Lucas of Leyden painted more correctly, that is, imitated more exactly, than Salvator Rosa; but the former did not chuse subjects of so much grace and dignity, nor composed with so much force and spirit, because he was not a poet like the latter. Salvator Rosa has given us elegant verses full of picturesque description; and, in every one of his pictures. he strikes us by those circumstances which his poetical imagination had suggested. Now it is plain, that a poetical imagination must be derived from nature, and can arise neither from the practice of painting, nor even from the study of pictures. The painter, therefore, and even the connoisseur, in judging of the merit of poetical composition, can have little advantage above other spectators; but even here it must be allowed, that if the painter has an equal degree of taste, he must, from the more frequent exercise of it, have great advantages in judging above any other person less, experienced.

I have thus endeavoured to shew, that, in judging of painting, the painter himself, and even the connoisseur, much engaged and exercised in the study of pictures, that is, "illi qui rationem operis intelligunt," have advantages above the common spectators, "qui "voluptatem tantum precipiunt." But, as a caution to the former, it may not be improper to conclude with observing, that the painter and connoisseur are often in danger of having their sensibility deadened, 'or their natural taste corrupted, by a knowledge of the technical minutia of the art, so far as to throw the balance towards the side of the common spectator. D

No. XLIX. TUESDAY, JULY 13.

AS I walked one evening, about a fortnight ago, through St. Andrew's Square, I observed a girl, meanly dressed, coming along the pavement at a slow pace. When I passed her, she turned a little towards me, and made a sort of halt; but said nothing. I am ill at looking any body full in the face, so I went on a few steps before I turned my eye to observe her. She had, by this time, resumed her former pace. I remarked a certain elegance in her form, which the poorness of her garb could not altogether overcome; her person was thin and genteel, and there was something not ungraceful in the stoop of her head, and the seeming feebleness with which she walked. I could not resist the desire, which her appearance gave me, of knowing somewhat of her situation and circumstance: Itherefore walked back and repassed her with such a look (for I could bring myself to nothing more) as might induce her to speak what she seemed desirous to say at first. This had the effect I wished."Pity a poor orphan !" said she, in a voice tremulous and weak. I stopped, and put my hand in my pocket: I had now a better opportunity of observing her. Her face was thin and pale; part of it was shaded by her hair, of a light brown colour, which was parted, in a disordered manner, at her forehead, and hung loose upon her shoulders; round them was cast a piece of tattered cloak, which with one hand she held across her bosom, while the other was half outstretched to receive the bounty I intended for her. Her large blue eyes were cast on the ground: she was drawing back her hand as I put a trifle into it; on receiving which she turned them up to me, muttered something which I could not hear, and then letting ge her cloak, and pressing her hands together,

rst into tears.