Pictor in fabula

[[4:suit Zeuxis et Polygnote]] We may judge from hence, how advantageous it must be to painters in general, to be versed in classical subjects; for, they find themselves under a necessity of expressing the manners as they flow naturally from characters predetermined. The Greek painters[[3:Apelles pinxit Dianam sacrificantium virginium choro mistam : quibus vicisse Homeri versus videtur, id ipsum describentis. Plin. lib. xxxv. c. 10.]] caught their ideas from historians and poets, and translated the beauties of eloquence into paint.

Par là nous pouvons juger combien il doit être avantageux pour les peintres de connoître les sujets consacrés par les ecrivains, puisque ce sont les caracteres, tels qu’ils sont établis, qui doivent leur donner les meurs qu’ils ont à exprimer. Les peintres grecs s’approprioient les idées des historiens et des poëtes, et transportoient sur la toile les mouvemens de l’éloquence[[3:Apelles pinxit Dianam sacrificantium virginium choro mistam : quibus vicisse Homeri versus videtur, id ipsum describentis. Plin. lib. xxxv. c. 10.]].

A – So far as a definition of Grace can go, yours give a just idea for it ; for it implies the highest degree of elegance in the choice ; of propriety in the application ; and of ease in the execution : you rightly term it an action, for there is no grace without motion. Thus, Milton distinguishes it from beauty. 

Grace was all her steps, heav’n in her eye.

Venus was but guessed at by her beauty, she was known by her motions – Vera incessu patuit Dea –but the perfection of Grace is, when it becomes characteristic[[3:Let us unite to these amiable expressions, a becoming air of the head, flexure of the body, and an elegant disposition of the limbs, we shall then have a clear conception of that correggiesque Grace, which it has so much puzzled our writers to explain. I have in my possession an excellent copy of the St. Jerome of Correggio, where one may see in the Angel, the Madonna, the Christ, and the Magdalen, so many distinct examples of this idea.]] ; and marks some amiable emotion in the mind. Such, we may presume, was the excellence of Apelles[[3:Praecipua Apellis in arte venustas fuit, cum eadem aetate maximi pictores essent : quorum opera cum admiraretur, collaudatis omnibus, deesse iis unam illam Venerem dicebat, quam Graeci χαριτα vocant ; caetera omnia contigisse, sed hac soli sibi neminem parem. Plin. lib. XXXV. c. 10. ]], who, living at the same time with some of the greatest painters ; after he had seen and admired their several works, declared, that the only thing wanting in them was Grace ; that they possessed every other excellence ; but in this, he saw no one equal to himself.

A perfect knowledge of the union and opposition of colours, together with the effects of their different shades and reflections, requires, no doubt, great study and practice; but I apprehend, that too great an attention to this flattery of the eye, has often made our modern neglectful of the more essential parts. That this was the case in the inferior area of ancient painting, we have the authority of Dionysius Halicarnassus: “The painting of the ancients (says he) were simple and unvaried in their colouring; but correct in their drawing, were more finished, more varied in their lights and shades; trusting their effects to the multitude of their colours”[[3:  Αρχαιαι γραψαι χρωμασιν ειργασμεναι ἁπλως, και ουδεμιαν εν τοις μιγμασιν εχουσαι ποικιλιαν, ακριβεις δε ταις γραμμαις, και πολυ το χαπιεν εν ταυταις εχουσαι· Αἱ δε μετ’εκεινας, ευγραμμοι μεν ἥττον, εξειργασμεναι δε μαλλον, σκιᾳ τε και φωτι ποικιλλομεναι, και εν τῳ των μιγματων πληθει την ισχυν εχουσαι. Dion Hal in Isaeo, p. 167 ed. Oxon]]. You will observe that this boasted science of the moderns, was, to the ancients, a symptom of the decay of paint: and indeed, can the happiest effect in this kind, that ever flowed from the pencil of Titian, make us amends for his frequent errors in drawing, or poverty of character? Can the best painted drapery of a Carrache, or Guido, balance the want of grace and beauty in the one, of warmth and expression in the other? Apelles seing a Helen, that had been painted by one of his scholars, loaded with ornaments, cried out[[3:Ω μειρακιον, μη δυναμενος γραψαι καλην, πλουσιαν πεποιηκας.]] : “So young man! Not able to paint her beautiful, you had made her fine”.

But, above all, Proportius pays him the prettiest compliment, and, at the same time, gives us the justest notion of his merit, when, dissuading his mistress from the use of paint, he recommends to her to trust to her real complexion ; which he compares to the native (a) carnation of Apelles :

Qualis Apelleis est color in tabulis.

Thus making it a merite in nature, to rise to a competition with art.

(a) The common objection to the colouring of Apelles, is, that he used but four colours : for this we have the authority of Pliny, who, at the same time, names the colours, viz. black, white, red and yellow. Now, as it does not seem possible to form a perfect carnation from these, we must either suppose that Pliny was mistaken, or, that the praise bestowed on the colouring of Apelles, by all the best judges of antiquity, and by Pliny himself among the rest, were not just. There is a passage in Cicero, which, I think, clears this difficulty, and proves that Pliny was mistaken ; it is as follows : Similis in pictura ratio est, in qua Zeuxim, et Polygnotum, et Timantem, et eorum, qui non sunt usi plus quatuor coloribus, formas et lineamenta laudamus. At in Aëtione, Nicomacho, Protogene et Apelle, jam perfecta sunt omnia. Thus, those who used but four colours, are praised for their proportions and characters only ; but, Apelles is distinguished from them, and declared to be perfect in every branch of his art. The inference is obvious.

Ce poëte[[5:Properce.]] voulant dissuader sa maîtresse de se farder, lui vante la beauté vraie et naturelle de son teint, et le compare à la couleur des tableaux d’Apelles :

Qualis Apelles est color in tabulis.

comme, si tout ce que la nature pouvoit faire de plus, étoit de mériter la concurrence avec l’art de ce peintre (a).

(a) On a objecté contre le coloris d’Apelles l’autorité de Pline, qui dit que ce peintre n’employoit que quatre couleurs, le noir, le blanc, le rouge et le jaune. Comme il ne paroît pas possible de représenter une carnation parfaite avec ces quatre couleurs, nous devons supposer, ou que Pline s’est trompé, ou qu’Apelles ne méritoit pas les louanges que lui ont prodiguées les meilleurs juges de l’antiquité, et Pline lui-même. On trouve dans Cicéron un passage qui peut éclaircir la difficulté et qui prouve que Pline a tort. Le voici : Similis in pictura ratio est, in qua Zeuxim, et Polygnotum, et eorum, qui non sunt usi plus quatuor coloribus, formas et lineamenta laudamus. At in Aëtione, Nicomacho, Protogene et Apelle, jam perfecta sunt omnia. On voit par-là que Zeuxis, Polygnote et Timanthe, et ceux qui n’employoient que quatre couleurs, n’étoient estimés que pour les formes et les proportions, au lieu que les tableaux d’Aëtion, de Nichomaque, Protogêne et Apelles ne laissoient rien à désirer.

Accordingly, Parrhasius, Zeuxis and Apelles, the most celebrated painters, were at the same time the most excellent colourists. If we examine the praises bestowed on the last of them, whe shall find, that they turn chiefly on that truth and beauty, which are the gift of colours: the master-piece of this painter, and consequently of the art itself, was his Venus anadyomene. Tully thus marks its perfections[[3:In Venere Coa, corpus illud non est, sed simile corpori ; nec ille fusus et candore mixtus rubor, sanguis est, sed quaedam sanguinis similitudo. De nat. Deor. lib. i.]], “In the Coan Venus, that is not real body, but the resemblance of a body : Nor is that ruddiness, so diffused and blended with white, real blood, but a certain resemblance of blood.” Ovid alludes to this same tenderness and warmth of pencil[[3:Sic madidos siccat digitis Venus unda capillos,/ Et modo maternis tecta videtur aquis. Lib. xi. Trist.

To the same purpose the epigrammatist Ausonius,

Ut complexa manu madidos salis aequore crines,/ Humidulis spumas stringit utraque comis.]].

In graceful act her sea-wet locks compress’d,

Send the quick drops which trickle down her breast,

O’er her bright skin the melting bubbles spread,

And clothe her beauties in a softer shade.

[[4:suit Vénus anadyomène]] Apelles[[3:Apellis Veneris caput, et summa pectoris politissima arte perfecit : reliquam partem corporis inchoatam reliquit. Lib. i. Ep. 9.

Nemo pictor est inventus, qui Veneris eam partem, quam Apelles inchoatam reliquisset, absolveret ; oris enim pulchritudo, reliqui corporis imitandi spem auferebat. De Officiis, lib. iii.]] a little before his death attempted a second Venus, which was to have exceeded the first; but died, just as he had finished the head and breasts. We are told, that no painter could be prevailed on to complete this figure; the idea, the character, the style of design were determined; it should seem then, that what they dreaded, was a comparison of their tints with his.

[[3:[1] Apellis Veneris caput, et summa pectoris politissima arte perfecit : reliquam partem corporis inchoatam reliquit. Lib. i. Ep. 9.

Nemo pictor est inventus, qui Veneris eaam partem, quam Apelles inchoatam reliquisset, absolveret ; oris enim pulchritudo, reliqui corporis imitandi spem auferebat. De Officiis, lib. iii.]]Apelles avoit commencé une seconde Vénus, qui devoit effacer la première, la mort le surprit comme il venait d’en achever la tête et le sein. On assure que personne n’osa entreprendre de l’achever ; l’idée, le caractère et le style du dessin en étoient déterminés ; ainsi il y a lieu de croire que ce qui détourna les peintres de tenter l’entreprise, fut la crainte de mettre leur coloris en comparaison avec celui de cet artiste.

If the ingenious Timanthes has left us to conceive an idea, which he could not execute, Aristides, on the other hand, has executed that which is almost above conception; by him was painted[[3:Huius pictura est, oppido capto ad matris morientis ex vulnere mammam adrepens infans : intellegiturque sentire mater et timere, ne emortuo lacte sanguinem lambat. Plin. Lib. xxxv. c. 10.]] “a town taken by storm, in which was seen an infant creeping to the breast of its mother, who, though expiring from her wounds, yet expresses an apprehension and fear least the course of her milk being stopt, the child should suck her bloud.” What a perfect knowledge of the human soul must this painter have had, to enter thus feelingly into her inmost workings! What a power, next to creative, to make such tender movements sensible in the midst of tortures; and the mother’s fondness distinguishable through the agonies of death? This picture, it is probable, gave occasion to the following epigram.[[3:Ἑλκε, ταλαν, παρα μητρος ὁν ουκ ετι μαζον αμελξεις,

Ἑλκυσον ὑστατιον ναμα καταφθιμενης,

Ηδη γαρ ξιφεεωι λιποπνοος αλλα τα μηθρος

Φιλτρακαὶειναιδῃπαιδοκομεινεμαθον.

Anthol lib. iii.]]

Suck, little wretch, whilst yet thy mother lives,

Suck the last drop her fainting bosom gives.

She dies; her tenderness outlasts her breath,

And her fond love is provident in death.

[[4:suite : Parrhasius Philoctète]]

Si l’ingénieux Timanthe nous laisse à concevoir une idée qu’il n’avait pu exprimer, Aristide dans un autre tableau, en exprime une qui est au-delà de toute conception. « C’est dans la peinture du sac d’une ville où l’on voit une femme expirante d’une blessure qu’elle avait reçue au sein, repousser son enfant qui cherchoit ses mammelles ; on apperçoit sur le visage de cette mère la crainte que son lait étant tari, son enfant ne suçât du sang. » <Pline, l. XXXV, cap. 10> Jusqu’où ce peintre n’avoit-il pas porté l’étude du cœur humain pour pénétrer ainsi dans ses replis les plus profonds ! Quel art ne falloit-il pas pour concevoir et faire sentir ces mouvements de l’amour maternel au milieu des douleurs, et cette tendre inquiétude au milieu des horreurs de la mort ! Ce fut vraisemblablement ce tableau qui donna lieu à l’épigramme suivante :

῞Ελκε, ταλαν, παρα μητρὸς ὃν ουκ ἓτι μαζόν ἀμέλξεις,

Ἕλκυσον ὑστάτιον νᾶμα καταφθιμένης,

Ηδη γὰρ ξιφέεωι λιποπνοος· ἀλλα τὰ μηθρὸς

Φίλτρα καὶ εἰν αἴδῃ παιδοκομεῖν εμαθον.

Anthol. l. III.

 « Suces, enfant infortuné, suces pour la derniere fois le sein que t’offre encore une mere expirante ; frappée d’un fer meurtrier, elle rend le dernier soupir, et son amour maternel est prévoyant jusque dans les bras de la mort ».

It is not so in the pathetic, or sublime. In the dying mother of Aristides, the Medea of Timomachus, the Alexander of Apelles, the ideas are manifest; the expressions decisive; and, we can no more confound, than we can forget, the effects which thy produce.

Lorsque l’intention d’un morceau de peinture a besoin d’être étudiée poru être sentie, l’effet doit nécessairemnet se diviser et s’affoiblir. Il n’en est pas ainsi dans le pathétique ou le sublime. La mere mourante d’Aristide, la Médée de Timomachus, l’Alexandre d’Appelles, offrent des idées évidentes et des expressions décidées ; et il n’est pas plus possible de confondre, que d’oublier les effets qu’ils produisent.

The first painter they name, lived in the nintieth Olympiad; upon which he observes, that Candaules, “a king of Lydia, who died in the eighteenth, gave an immense price for a picture by Bularchus; to which he adds[[3:[1] Manifesta jam tum claritate artis atque absolutione ; quod si recipi necesse est, simul apparet multo vetustiora principa esse. Lib. XXXV.]], it is manifest, that the art was even then in its full beauty and perfection; which, if we are forced to allow, it necessarily follows, that its beginnings must have been much more ancient.”

 [[4:suit Dibutade]] Le premier peintre, dit-il[[5:Pline.]], dont ils parlent, vivoit dans la quatre-vingt-dixième Olympiade, sur quoi il observe que « Candale, Roi de Lydie, qui mourut dans la dix-huitième, donna d’un tableau de Bularchus, une somme considérable »[[3:Manifesta jam tum claritate artis atque absolutione ; quod si recipi necesse est, simul apparet multo vetustiora principa esse. Lib. XXXV.]] ; il est évident, ajoute-t-il, « que cet art étoit dès-lors porté à sa perfection ; et cela une fois admis, il s’ensuivra qu’il est beaucoup plus ancien qu’on le prétend. »

We are told by Pliny, that all the statues before the time of Dædalus, were represented stiff and motionless; with winking eyes, closed feet, and arms hanging in right lines to their sides[[3:[1] Conniventibus oculis, pedibus junctis, brachiis in latera demissus, statu rigido. — The Egyptians continued to the last, even when they were masters of a perfect design, to represent their deities in the manner above described : we cannot suppose that this was owing to an ignorance of the advantages of a graceful action, but rather to their bigoted attachment to certain theological ideas. — The motion they ascribed to their divinities, was neither that of walking nor flying; Milton, who had adopted their idea, describes it precisely in the following lines:

So saying, by the hand he took me, raised,
And over fields and waters, as in air
Smooth sliding without step, last lea me up
A woody mountain.]]: these were the rude essays of design, Dædalus and his immediate followers, unfolded these embarrassed figures; they threw motion into the limbs, and life into the countenance. In the progress of the art, and in abler hands, motion was fashioned into grace, and life was heightened into character.

The Greeks who borrowed their religion, as they did their arts, from the Egyptians, followed for some time this mode of representation; till at length (which was, perhaps, the era Pliny mentions) their aversion to everything that was ungraceful, overcame their prejudices; and this might have been a principal reason, that in the end they so far excelled their masters.

Pline nous apprend qu’avant le temps de Dédale, toutes les statues étoient figurées roides et immobiles, les yeux baissés, les pieds joints et les bras collés sur les flancs.[[3: Conventibus oculis, pedibus junctis, brachiis in latera demissis, statu rigido. Les Egyptiens continuerent de représenter leurs Dieux de cette maniere, lors même qu\'ils se furent perfectionnés dans le dessin; ce fut plutôt par un attachement superstitieux à certaines idées théologiques, que par ignorance de ce qui peut répandre des graces sur une nation. Le mouvement qu\'ils donnoient à leurs Divinités ne tenoit ni du vol, ni de la marche; et Milton paroît avoir adopté leurs idées dans les vers suivans:
So saying, by the hand he took me, rais\'d,
And over fields and maters, as in air
Smooth sliding withont step, last led me op
A woody mountain.]] Tels furent les premiers essais du dessin.  Dédale et ses successeurs développèrent ces figures emmaillotées ; ils donnerent du mouvement aux parties, et de la vie au visage. L’art se perfectionnant par dégrés, le mouvement acquit de la grace, et la vie prit un caractère.

A — As it is evident that paint bears the immediate stamp, and very image of our conceptions[[3:It is to be observed, that, in the Greek tongue, the same word (γραφεῖν) signifies to paint, or to write ; which is easily accounted for, if we suppose that, like the Egyptians, they first explained their thoughts by paint : so that, afterwards, when letters were discovered, though they changed the manner, they continued the term.]], so it was natural, that men should sooner hit on this method of representing their thoughts, than by letters, which have no connection with, or resemblance to the ideas they stand for: from whence, no less than from the authority of history, it has been justly concluded, that writing is of a much later invention than painting. But that which brought the antiquity of the latter so much into doubt, was the vanity of the Greeks. Piquet that any other nation should have the honour of its invention, they dated its origin from its first appearance among themselves; they tell us of a certain maid, who to have some present image of her lover, who was about to leave her[[3:Hence the art itself was by the Greeks termed σκιαγράφια and in the Latin, adumbrare and pingere are synonymous.]], drew the outlines of his shadow on a wall.

B — It was prettily imagined however, to make the most amiable of all our passions give birth to the most pleasing of all arts.

A — Pliny mentions this, objects to the Greeks their inconsistency, and want of accuracy.

As it is the character of fine writing, so it is of excellent painting, that the thoughts should be natural, not obvious; elegant, not remote. A Greek artist[[3:Nealces, ingeniosus et solers in arte. Plin. lib. xxxv. c. 12.]], having painted a naval engagement on the river Nile, it was necessary to mark the scene of action; to this end, he represented an ass feeding on its bank, beneath which was couched a crocodile, ready to spring upon his prey. A modern would have planted at one end a river god, with water issuing from seven urns; and this, with no small conceit of his erudition. [[4:suite Timanthe]]

Un artiste grec[[3:Nealces, ingeniosus et solers in arte. Plin. lib. XXXV. C. 12.]] avoit à représenter un combat naval sur le Nile, il falloit indiquer le lieu de la scène ; pour cela il peignit sur le rivage un âne qui paissoit, et à peu de distance un crocodile blotti et prêt à s’élancer sur sa proie. Si un peintre moderne eût eu à traiter le même sujet, il eût représenté d’abord le Dieu du fleuve, ensuite ses eaux jaillissantes de sept urnes ; et il se seroit fort admiré dans son érudition.

Were we then to consider the arts merely as objects of elegant speculation, or as the means of polishing and softening our manners, we could not prize them too highly; but their effects are much more extensive. The powers of eloquence and music are universally acknowledged; so would be those of paint were they as universally exercised. The Athenians passed a law, that none who were not of a liberal birth, sould practice in this art: they could not better show the sense they had of its power than in the care they took of its direction.

Yet, this slight and florid style was not the constant manner of Parrhasius ; Pliny tells us, that he painted two warriors, one of which rushing to the battle seemed so sweat ; the other, stripped of his armour was seen to pant. What a warmth, what a tenderness of pencil ! Can paint express that melting diffusion, that dewy moisture, which springs from a quickening perspiration ? The mellowest tints of the Venetian school furnish no such ideas.

Pline rapporte qu’il peignit deux guerriers, l’un marchant au combat : on voyait la sueur sur son corps; l’autre venant de quitter son armure: il paraissait tout haletant. Quelle chaleur, quelle finesse du pinceau ! Qui croirait que la peinture pût exprimer cette moiteur, ces émanations imperceptibles qui proviennent d’une transpiration violente ? Les teintes les plus moelleuses de l’École vénitienne ont-elles jamais su rendre de semblables idées ?

The Philoctetes of Parrhasius is a fine image of hopeless wretchedness, of consuming grief. The picture itself is happily described by the epigrammatist, and the compliment to the painter, has the elegance and simplicity peculiar to the Greeks.[[3:[1] Και τον απο Τρηχιντος ιδων πολυωδυνον ἡρω

Τοδε Φιλοκτητην εγραφε Παρρασιος.

Εν τε γαρ οφθαλμοις εσκληκοσι κωρον ὑποικει

Δακρυ, καὶ ὁ τρυχω εντος ενεσι ποντος.

Ζωογραφων ω λῳστε, συ μεν σοφος, αλλ’αναπαυσαι

Ανδρα πονων ηδη τον πολυμοχθον εδει.

Anthol. Lib. iv.]]

Drawn by Parrhasius, as in person view’d,

Sed Philoctetes feels his pains renew’d.

In his parch’d eyes the deep-sunk tears express

His endless misey, his dire distress.

We blame thee, painter, tho’ thy art commend;

‘Twas time his sufferings with himself should end.

We cannot well conceive an image more tender, or more affecting that this. Let terror be united with pity, the muse of painting has completed her drama. [[4:suite : Timomaque]]

We may consider the imitative arts in two points of view ; first, as imitations of such objects as are actually before the eye ; secondly, as representations of thoses images which are formed by the fancy. The first, is the mechanick or executive part of the art ; the second, the ideal or inventive. Tully[[3:Nec uero ille artifex, cum faceret Jovis formam aut Mineruae, contemplabatur aliquem e quo similitudinem duceret ; sed ipsius in mente insidebat species pulchritudinis eximia quaedam, quam intuens, in eaque defixus, ad illius similitudinem artem et manum dirigebat. In Bruto.]] has justly distinguished those parts, when he observes, that the Jupiter of Phidias was not drawn from any pattern in nature, but from that idea of unexampled beauty, which the artist had formed in his mind. The great difference, observed among painters of any name, arises from their different excellencies in these two parts : those, whose chief merit is in the mechanick, will, like the Dutch painters, be servile copiers of the works of nature ; but those, who give wholly into the ideal, without perfecting themselves in the mechanick, will produce sbozzo’s[[3:The rough draught of a picture.]], not pictures : it is evident then, that the perfection of the art consists in an union of these two parts. Of all the moderns, Raphael seems to have come the nearest to this point. The next to him, perhaps, Correggio.

A — The Jupiter[[3:Non uidit Phidias Iovem, fecit tamen, uelut tonantem ; nec stetit ante oculos eius Minerva, dignus tamen illa arte animus, et concepit Deos et exhibuit. Senec. Rhet. Lib. X]] and Minerva of Phidias were subjects of astonishment in the most enlightened ages. It should seem, that the wonderful effect of these statues proceeded from an union of the beautiful with the great and uncommon; thus combining the whole influence of visible objects in the imagination. If we are astonished at the first sight of the Colossal statues on the monte Cavallo at Rome, a secret and growing pleasure succeeds this amazement: for, though the immensity of their form seems, at first, to set them above any scale of our ideas, yet, so happy is the symmetry of their parts, such a freedom of design, such an aptness for action prevail throughout, that the eye soon becomes familiar with their proportions and capable of their beauties.

B — It is probable, that a great part of the pleasure which we receive in the contemplation of such colossal figures, arises from a comparison of their proportions with our own. The mind, in these moments, grows ambitious, and feels itself aspiring to greater powers, and superior functions: these noble and exalted feelings diffuse a kind of rapture through the soul; and raise in it conceptions and aims above the limits of humanity. The finest, and, at the same time, most pleasing sensations in nature, are those, which (if I may be allowed the expression) carry us out of ourselves, and bring us nearest to that divine original from which we all spring.

A — To this power of humanizing, if I may so call it, these colossal proportions, succeeds that of annexing the sublime to the most minute. When two such extremes correspond in their effects, we may be assured that the merit in both springs from the same cause, a greatness of manner. The most celebrated instance in this kind, was the[[3:Haec inter castae genius tutelaque mensae

Amphitryoniades, etc.

— — Deus ille, Deus : seseque uidendum

Indulsit, Lysippe, tibi, paruusque videri

Sentirique ingens ; et cum mirabilis intra

Stet mensura pedem tamen exclamare libebit,

(Si uisus per membra feras) hoc pectora pressus

Vastator Nemees, —  etc. Lib. IV. Sylv.]] Hercules of Lysippus ; which, though not more than a foot in height, filled the imagination equal to the Hercules Farnese. As this statue is lost, we must content ourselves with the description of it by Statius.

And the chaste board the god himself appears,

Inspires the artist, and the banquet chears ;

He, only be, could teach thee to confine

A great idea to minute design ;

From part to part our heated fancy flies,

And gives to character, what space denies ;

Press’d by that arm, the lion pants for breath ;

And Cacus trembles at th’impending death.

B — The Jupiter of Phidias, and Hercules of Lysippus are equal examples of the superior genius of the Greeks ; and it must be confessed, that if they have improved on nature, it was not so much by quitting her proportions, as excelling her ideas.

Seneca[[3:Nuda corpora, vitia si qua sint, non celant, nec laudes parum ostentant. Lib. Iii. Ep. 6.]] observes, that « Naked bodies, as they betray their imperfection, sot they give a full exhibition of their beauties. » Each of these effects tends to the improvement of design. Clothing on the contrary, disguises beauty, and gives a protection to faults. The Greeks[[3:Graeca res est nihil velare ; at contra, Romana ac militaris, thoracas addere. Plin. lib. xxxiv. c. 5.]], it is known, almost ever represented their figures naked. But the Romans, whose character was military, dressed theirs in armour. That art which challenges criticism, must always be superior to that which shuns it. We are told by Pliny[[3:Duas fecerat Veneres Praxiteles, simulque vendebat ; alteram velata specie, quam ob id quidem praetulerunt Coi ; rejectam Gnidii emerunt : immensa differentia famae ; illo enim signo Praxiteles nobilitavit Gnidum. Lib. xxxiv. c. 5.]], “That Praxiteles had made two statues of Venus, which he sold at the same time; the one clothed; which for that reason, was preferred by the people of Cos: those of Gnidus purchased that which was rejected. The reputation of these statues was widely different; for by this last Praxiteles ennobled Gnidus”. We may conceive then, that the Greeks had the same advantage over the Romans, that the naked Venus had over the clothed: this advantage holds still more strongly against the moderns; who, borrowing their characters and subjects from a chaste religion, are not only forced in decency to cloth their figures; but often, by propriety, to make that clothing of the coarsest materials. Hence it is, that we often see a saint bending under a load of drapery, and the elegant form of a nun overwhelmed in the blanketing of her order. If paint sometimes represents to us the naked body of a Christ, it is either stretched on a cross, or disfigured by sufferings; whilst the virgin-mother is hooded to the eyes, and the beauties of the Magdalen are absorbed in velvet. The result of this habit is evident, when our first artists come to design the nude; a comparison of Raphael’s figures, in the Incendio di Borgo, with the Laocoon or Gladiator, would have much the same effect, as that of a Flemish coach-horse with an Arabian courser.

Praxitele, au rapport de Pline, « avoit fait deux statues de Venus, qu’il mit en vente dans le même tems ; l’une étoit habillée, et pour cette raison, fut préférée par les habitans de Cos, ceux de Gnide prirent l’autre. Ces deux statues firent une fortune bien différente, la dernière rendit célébre la Ville de Gnide ». Il y a lieu de croire que les Grecs ont eu sur les Romains, le même avantage que la Venus de Gnide avait sur celle de Cos ; cet avantage est bien plus grand encore par rapport aux modernes, qui, empruntant la plûpart de leurs caracteres et de leurs sujets d’une religion qui prescrit la chasteté, sont forcés non-seulement par la décence à vêtir leurs figures, mais encore par la convenance à les vêtir souvent des étoffes les plus grossieres.

Pliny[[3:Timanthi vel plurimum adfuit ingenii. Eius enim est Iphigenia oratorum laudibus celebrata ; qua stante ad aras peritura cum maestos pinxisset omnes, praecipue patruum, et tristitiæ omnem imaginem consumsisset, patris ipsius vultum velavit, quem digne non poterat ostendere. Lib. xxxv. c. 10. It has been imagined that Timanthes borrowed this thought from the following passage in Sophocles :

— Ως δ’εσειδεν Αγαμεμνων αναξ

Επι σφαγας στειχουσαν εις αλσος κορην,

Ανεστεναζε κἀμπαλιν στρεψας καρα,

Δακρυα προηγεν, ομματων πεπλον προθεις.]] in his description of that famous picture of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, by Timanthes, observes, “that the painter having exhausted every image of grief in the by-standers, and above all in the uncle; threw a veil over the face of the father, whose sorrow he was unable to express.” If the ingenious Timanthes has left us to conceive an idea, which he could not execute, Aristides, on the other hand, has executed that which is almost above conception  [[4:suite : Aristide]]

Pline[[3:[1] Timanthi vel plurimum adfuit ingenii. Eius enim est Iphigenia oratorum laudibus celebrata ; qua stante ad aras peritura cum maestos pinxisset omnes, praecipue patruum, et tristitiæ omnem imaginem consumsisset, patris ipsius vultum velavit, quem digne non poterat ostendere. Lib. xxxv. c. 10. On a cru que Timanthe avoir pris cette idée du passage suivant de Sophocle :

— Ως δ’εσειδεν Αγαμεμνων αναξ

Επι σφαγας στειχουσαν εις αλσος κορην,

Ανεστεναζε κἀμπαλιν στρεψας καρα,

Δακρυα προηγεν, ομματων πεπλον προθεις.

« Mais lorsqu’Agamemnon la vit s’avancer vers le lieu du sacrifice pour y être immolée, il gémit; et détournant la tête, il versa des larmes, ayant le visage couvert d’un voile. »]], dans sa description du fameux tableau du sacrifice d’Iphigénie, peint par Timanthe, remarque que « l’artiste ayant épuisé tous les traits de l’affliction en peignant les assistans, et particuliérement Ménelas, couvrit d’un voile le visage du pere, dont il désespéroit de pouvoir rendre la douleur. »

We have already taken notice in the Iphigenia of Timanthes, of the Climax in the expressions ; and of his singular ingenuity, in distinguishing his principal character ; can we suppose this artist unequal to trace the gradations of envy in Christ’s charge to Peter, or the different effects of Paul’s sermon at Athens ?

Nous avons déjà fait mention de l’Iphigénie de Timanthe, pour la gradation dans les expressions, et l’artifice ingénieux dont il usa en caractérisant son personnage principal ; croirons-nous que cet artiste n’eût point été en état de rendre les différens dégrés de l’envie dans la mission de S. Pierre, ou les effets divers que produisit sur les Athéniens la prédication de S. Paul ?

B — But, does not the very instance you have given, in the Iphigenia of Timanthes, show the advantage of a gradation in the expressions ; and of course, contradict all you have opposed to it ?

A — Had the passion of grief been actually expressed in the countenance of Agamemnon, the case could have been precisely as I stated it just now ; but his face being hid, and his feelings left wholly to our imagination, our attention fixes first on those expressions, which are the objects of sense, and rises from the real to a conception of the imaginary. Now this, you see, is not a matter of expression, but a stroke of ingenuity; which, as well as all the delicate, and less observable motions of the mind, are often found to owe their evidence and force to their associate ideas.

B — L’exemple même que vous avez cité (l’Iphigénie de Timanthe) n’est-il pas très-propre à prouver l’efficacité de la gradation dans les expressions, et par conséquent, ne contredit-il point tout ce que vous avez avancé contre cette pratique ?

A — Si le peintre avoit effectivement exprimé la douleur d’Agamemnon sur son visage, c’eût été précisément le cas que j’ai établi tout-à-l’heure : mais il lui a couvert la tête d’un voile, et abandonné à notre imagination le soin de déterminer le dégré de son émotion : alors notre attention se porte d’abord sur les expressions qui frappent nos sens, et nous partons de ce que nous voyons pour concevoir ce qui nous reste à imaginer. Ce n’est donc point là une expression, mais un trait d’esprit, qui, comme sont presque toujours tous les mouvemens de l’ame déliés et articulés, ne doit son effet et sa force qu’à l’association des idées.

The same simplicity and happiness of invention are attributed in general to the painting of Timanthes; in one of which, he represented, in a little picture, a cyclops sleeping, and, to give an extraordinary idea of his size, near him were drawn some satyrs, measuring his finger with a thyrsus. On which occasion, Pliny makes this remark, “[[3:In omnibus ejus operibus intelligitur plus semper quam pingitur ; et cum ars summa sit, ingenium tamen ultra est. Lib. XXXV. c. 10.]]In all his works there is more understood than expressed; and though his execution be masterly, yet his ideas exceed it.” This is, in so many words, a description of the poetry of Virgil. A circumstance, extremely favourable to the Greek artists, that the praises due to that divine poet, should be no less applicable to this excellent painter. FINIS.

On a attribué à Timanthe la même sagacité et la même simplicité d’invention[[5:que Néalcès.]] : pour donner l’idée de la taille énorme d’un Cyclope qu’il avait peint en petit, il avait placé autour de lui des satyres qui mesuraient son pouce avec un tyrse. C’est ce tableau qui donna lieu à cette remarque de Pline[[3:In omnibus ejus operibus intelligitur plus semper quam pingitur ; et cum ars summa sit, ingenium tamen ultra est. Lib. XXXV. c. 10.]], « que dans tous les ouvrages de ce peintre, il y a toujours plus à entendre qu’il n’a exprimé ; et que, quoique l’art y soit porté à son comble, le génie y paroît encore au-dessus de l’art ». Ne croiroit-on pas que c’est là mot pour mot une juste appréciation du mérite de Virgile ? C’est peut-être une des choses les plus honorables pour les artistes grecs, que le même éloge puisse devenir commun à un grand peintre et à ce poëte divin. FIN.

Let terror be united with pity, the muse of painting has completed her drama. Of this, the Ajax and Medea of Timomachus are beautiful examples; they are bust just mentioned by Ovid in the following lines[[3:Utque sedet vultu fassus Telamonius iram;

Inque oculis facinus barbara mater habet. Lib. II Trist.]]:

Here Ajax sits with sullen rage oppress’d;

And in Medea’s eyes her crime’s confess’d.

Philostratus is more particular to the former[[3:Ουδ’αν τον Αιαντα τις τον Τιμομαχου αγασθειν, ὁς δη αναγεγραπται αυτῳ μεμηνως, ει μη αναλαβοι τις ες τον νουν Αριαντος ειδωλον, καὶ ὡς εικος αυτον απεκτονοτα τα εν τῃ Τροιᾳ βουκολια, καθησθαι απερειρηκοτα, βουλην ποιουμενον καὶ ἑαυτον κτειναι.

Lib. II de vita Apolloni, c. 10]]: We cannot (says he) do justice to the Ajax of Timomachus, whom he represents distracted, unless we previously form in our minds the image of his condition; and how natural it was, after the follies he had committed, that he should sit down, overwhelmed with shame, entering on the resolution to destroy himself. This observation of the historian, will serve us as a comment on the epigrammatist[[3:Αισαν Τιμομαχου πλεον η πατρος·ἡρπασε τεχνα

Την φυσιν·Ὁ γραψας ειδε σε μαινομενον,

Και σθνελυσσηθη χειρ ανερι· Και τα κεραστα

Δακρυα τους λυπης παντας εμιξε πονους.

Anthol. Lib. IV]]

Here art with nature holds a doubtful strife,

And summons Ajax to a second life:

We see raging, and in every line

The painter’s fury rises still with thine:

Thy looks the anguish of thy soul disclose,

And the mix’d tear is charged with all thy woes.

The Medea was a subject of emulation to the wits of Greece; each contending to do justice to thoses inimitable expressions, which they thus describe[[4:Ταν ολοαν Μεδειαν ὁτ’εγραφε Τιμομαχου χειρ,

Ζαλῳ, καὶ τεχνοις αντιμεθελκομεναν·

Μυριον ἀρατο μοχθον ἱν’ηθεα δισσα χαραξῃ,

Ὡν το μεν εις οργαν νευε, το δ’εις ελεον.

Αμφος δ’επληρωσεν, ὁρα τυπον· εν γαρ απελᾳ,

Δακρυον, εν δ’ελεῳ, θυμος αναστρεφεται.

Ακρει δ’ἁν μελλησις, εφα σοφος· αἱμα δε τεκνων

Επρεπε Μηδειη, κ’ου χερι Τιμομαχου.

Anthol. Lib. iv.]]:

Medea, painter, now provokes thy skill,

Hop’st thou to picture a divided will?

‘Tis done: Behold, united by his art,

The lovers frenzy, and the mother’s heart;

Mark how the struggling of her soul appear;

Here fury flashes, and there melts a tear.

‘Twas well, her purpose only you express’d,

Who but Medea could support the rest?

The same is touch’d again with great spirit in the following epigram[[3:Τις σου, Κολχις αθεσμε, συϐεγραφεν εικονι θυμον;

Τις καὶ εν ειδωλῳ βαρβαρον ειργασατο;

Αιει γαρ διψας βρεφεων φονον· η τις Ιησων

Δευτερος, η Γλαυκη τις παλι σοι προφασις;

Ερρε, καὶ εν κηρῳ παιδοκτονε· σων γαρ αμετρων

Ζηλων, εις ἀ θελεις, καὶ γραφις αισθανεται.

Anthol. Lib. iv.]]:

What ventrous hand the curs’d Medea drew ?

And brought the parricide once more in view!

Art thou by slighted love provok’d again

In thy child’s blood thy impious hands to stain?

Off murdress! Ev’n in pain thy crimes we fear,

And all the horrors of thy soul are here.

B — It must be confessed, that if these artists were happy in their power to please, they were no less so, in having such feeling critics, so capable of transmitting their merit to posterity. We too have our share in this happiness; these descriptions are so just, so lively, so distinguishing, that we may look upon them as copies of those divine originals. The moderns have not this advantage: all ideas of their works will vanish with their colours. When Ariosto celebrates Michael Angelo in the following line,

“E Michael, piu che mortal, Angel divino.”

this praise is excessive, not decisive; it carries no idea.

A — The reason is obvious, the artist did not furnish the poet with any. Had the painters of Italy produced such expressions as those of the Ajax and Medea, the wits of that country would not have been wanting in doing them justice. I may, perhaps, appear too general, when I include even Raphael in this observation; but if you reflect, you will find, that his expressions are more addressed to the understanding than the passions: they are more to be admired for their variety than force; they have little, either of the pathetic or sublime; and the images which they leave in the mind, slip from it almost as hastily, as the picture from the eye. It is not so with the paintings of Timomachus and Aristides; the impressions we receive from them strike full upon the soul; they dilate it, like the bursts in the musick of Boranello; they agitate, they rouze it, like the symphonies of Yeomelli; such expressions (as was observed of the eloquence of Pericles) leave stings behind them. The superiority which I have here attributed to the ancients, in th comparison of their excellencies with those of Raphael, is no way injurious to the latter; it is but placing his merit in a just point of view.

A — I have admitted, that it was much the taste of the Greek painters, to rest the merit of their composition on a single character or expression. That they judged well in this, the agreement of all the writers of antiquity, in giving the preference to these works, sufficiently proves. No doubt, the noblest end of painting, is, by a sudden and powerful impression, to strike home on the passions: This will never be effected, in painting, by drawing the imagination through links of successive ideas. The children of Medea, we are told, were represented smiling at the dagger in their mother’s hand; her fury, mixed with a pity of their innocence, has been fully described: would you extend composition beyond this, you rather weaken then improve it; is it to be imagined, that a painter capable of such expressions as these, could not have marked the subordinate emotions in a number of assistants? We have already taken notice in the Iphigenia of Timanthes, of the climax of the expressions; and of his singular ingenuity, in distinguishing his principal character; can we suppose this artist unequal to trace the gradations of envy in Christ’s charge to Peter, or the different effects of Paul’s sermon at Athens?

Quand la terreur se trouve jointe à la compassion, le drame de la peinture est complet. L’Ajax et la Médée de Timomaque sont deux exemples frappans en ce genre, et sont cités comme tels par Ovide, dans ces vers :

Utque sedet vultu fassus Telamonius iram,

Inque oculis facinus barbara mater habet ? Trist. L. II.

« Un farouche dépit éclate sur le visage d’Ajax, et le regard de la cruelle Médée révele son forfait. » Ce que dit Philostrate de l’Ajax, est plus positif encore : « On ne peut, dit-il[[3:Ουδ’αν τον Αιαντα τις τον Τιμομαχου αγασθειν, ὁς δη αναγεγραπται αυτῳ μεμηνως, ει μη αναλαβοι τις ες τον νουν Αριαντος ειδωλον, καὶ ὡς εικος αυτον απεκτονοτα τα εν τῃ Τροιᾳ βουκολια, καθησθαι απερειρηκοτα, βουλην ποιουμενον καὶ ἑαυτον κτειναι. Lib. II de vita Apollonii c. 10]], sentir tout le mérite de ce tableau de Timomachus, où Ajax est représenté furieux contre lui-même, si l’on ne se met bien dans l’esprit sa situation, lorsqu’après avoir mis en pièces des troupeaux dans la Troade, il s’arrête désespéré, et prend la résolution de se tuer lui-même ». Cette observation servira de Commentaire à l’épigramme suivante :

Αἶσαν Τιμομάχου πλέον ἦ πατρός, ἦρπασε τέχνα

Τὴν φύσιν· ὠ γραψας εἶδε σε μαινόμενον,

Καὶ συνελυσσήθη χεῖρ ἀνέρι, καὶ τὰ κεραστὰ

Δάκρυα τοὺς λύπης πάντας ἔμειξε πόνους.

Anthol. L. IV.

« Ici Ajax doit plus à Timomachus qu’à son propre pere ; l’art a dérobé à la nature ses traits. Le peintre, Ajax, te vit dans l’égarement du désespoir, toute ta fureur s’empara de lui, et conduisit ta main ; en confondant ses larmes avec les tiennes, il a rassemblé en toi tous les caracteres de la douleur. »

La Médée fut pour les beaux esprits de la Grèce un de ces sujets sur lesquels ils s’exerçoient à l’envi ; chacun d’eux s’efforçoit de rendre justice à l’expression inimitable de ce tableau ; voici comment ils en ont parlé :

Τὰν ὀλοὰν Μήδειαν ὅτ’ ἔγραφε Τιμομάχου χεῖρ

Ζάλω, καὶ τέκνοις ἀντιμεθελκομέναν,

Μυριον ἄρατο μόχθον, ἵν’ ἤθεα δισσὰ χαράξη,

Ὠν τὸ μὲν εἰς ὀργὰν νεῦε, τὸ δ’εἰς ἔλεον.

Αμφω δ’ ἐπλήρωσεν, ὅρα τύπον· ἐν γὰρ ἀπειλᾷ

Δάκρυον, ἐν δ’ ἐλέῳ θθμὸς ἀναστρέφεται.

Ἀρκεῖ δ’ ἃν μέλλησις, ἔφα σοφός· αἶμα δὲ τέκνων

Ἕπρεπε Μηδείῃ, κ’οὐ χερὶ Τιμομάχου.

Anthol. L. IV.

« Timomachus, pendant que son pinceau traçoit la cruelle Médée partagée par la jalousie et l’amour maternel, dût éprouver mille tourmens pour exprimer ces deux mouvemens, dont l’un respire la fureur, et l’autre l’attendrissement ; il les a exprimés tous deux heureusement : regardez ce tableau ; on voit la menace éclater à travers les larmes, et la vengeance subsister avec la pitié. C’est assez pour moi que cette perplexité, s’est dit le sage artiste ; verser le sang de ses enfans convenoit à Médée, et ne convient point à la main de Timomachus. »

Le même sujet est aussi exprimé avec beaucoup d’esprit dans l’épigramme suivante :

Τίς σου, Κολχὶς, ἄθεσμε, συνέγραφεν εἰκόνι θύμον;

Τίς καὶ ἐν είδώλῳ βάρβαρον εἰργάσατο;

Αἰεὶ γὰρ διψᾷς βρεφέων φόνον· ἢ τίς Ἰησών

δεύτερος ἢ Γλαύκη τις πάλι σοι πρόφασις;

Ἔρρε, καὶ ἐν κηρῷ παιδ’οκτόνε. Σῶν γὰρ ἅμετρων

Ζήλων, εἰς ἃ θέλεις, καὶ γραφὶς αἰσθάνεται.

 Anthol. L. IV

« Quel est l’artiste, ô Médée, qui a exprimé dans cette image tes injustes fureurs ! Quelle main a fait passer dans ton portrait toute ta barbarie ! Tu y respires encore le meurtre de tes enfans. Y a-t-il donc quelque nouveau Jason, y a-t-il une autre Créüse qui irritent tes ressentimens ? Détestable parricide, même sur la cire, tu inspires la terreur, et cette figure est empreinte de tout l’emportement de tes passions forcénées. »

B — Si les artistes anciens sont admirables dans leurs productions, il faut avouer qu’ils ont été heureux d’avoir trouvé des critiques si éclairés, si dignes de sentir le mérite de leurs ouvrages, et d’en faire passer le sentiment à la postérité. Nous partageons ce bonheur avec eux ; les descriptions qui nous restent de leurs ouvrages sont si justes, si énergiques, si précises, qu’on peut les regarder comme des copies de ces divins originaux. Les modernes n’ont pas le même avantage ; le souvenir de leurs productions se perdra avec leur couleur. Lorsque l’Arioste loue Michel-Ange dans ce vers si connu :

E Michael, piu che mortal, Angel Divino.

Cet éloge n’est qu’une exagération vague qui ne laisse aucune idée.

A — La raison en est toute simple ; l’artiste n’en avoit fait naître aucune au poëte. Si les peintres d’Italie avoient mis dans leurs tableaux des expressions comparables à celles de l’Ajax et de la Médée, les écrivains de ce pays n’auroient pas manqué de les exalter.

Il n’en est pas ainsi dans le pathétique ou le sublime. La mere mourante d’Aristide, la Médée de Timomachus, l’Alexandre d’Appelles, offrent des idées évidentes et des expressions décidées ; et il n’est pas plus possible de confondre, que d’oublier les effets qu’ils produisent.

B — Your observations on the character of Raphael show, how essential to painting is that, which you call the third part of the drama, namely, the characters or manners.

A — The ancients thougt them so much so, that they expressly term picture[[3:Ηθοποιητος τεχνη. Callistratus in Descrip. stat. Aescul.]] an art descriptive of the manners. Aristotle in his Poetics, says of Polygnotus, that he was a painter of the manners[[3:Ηθογραφος. Aristides Thebanus animum pinxit, et sensus omnes expressit, quos vocant Graeci ηθη ; id est, perturbationes. Plin. lib. XXXV. 10.]]; and objects to Zeuxis his weakness in this part. We have in Philostratus the following description of a picture[[3:Επιδηλος ὁ μεν Ιθακησιος, απο του σρυφνου καὶ εγρηγοροτος, ὁ δε Αγαμεμνων, απο του ενθεου, τον δε του Τυδεως ελευθερια γραφει, γνωριζοις δ’αν και τον Τελαμωνιον, απο του βλοσηρου, και τον Λοκρον απο τοθ ἑτοιμου. Philostrat. in Antilocho.]]: “We may instantly (says he) distinguish Ulysses, by his severity and vigilance; Menelaus, by his mildness; and Agamemnon, by a kind of divine majesty; in the son of Tydeus, is expressed an air of freedom; Ajax is known by his sullen fierceness; and Antilochus by his alertness.” To give to these such sentiments and actions, as are consequential from their peculiar characters, is the ethic of painting[[3:Ηθων ἱστωρια. Callist. In Descrip. stat. Narcissi.]]. We may judge from hence, how advantageous it must be to painters in general, to be versed in classical subjects; for, they find themselves under a necessity of expressing the manners as they flow naturally from characters predetermined. [[4:suite: Apelle Diane]]

The artist, therefore, observing that nature was sparing of her perfections, and that her efforts were limited to parts, availed himself of her inequality[[3:Ὁνπερ τροπον, και τοις τα αγαλματα τουτοις διαπλατλουσιν, οἱ παν το παν ἑκαστε καλον συναγαγοντες· καὶ κατα την τεχνην εκ διαφορων σωματων αθροισαντες εις μιμησιν μιαν, καλλος ἑν ὑγιες και αρτιον και ἡρμοσμενον αυτο αυτῳ εξειργασαντο. Και ουκ αν εὑροις σωμα ακριβες κατα αληθειαν αγαλματι ὁμοιον· Ορεγονται γαρ αἱ τεχναι του καλλιστου.

Maxim. Tyr, Dissert. xxiii. ed. London.]], and drawing these scattered beauties into a more happy and complete union, rose from an imperfect imitative, to a perfect ideal beauty. We are informed, that the painters of Greece pressed in crowds to design the bosom and breasts of Thais; nor were the elegant proportions of Phryne less the object of their study. By this constant contemplation of the beautiful, they enriched their imagination and confirmed their taste; from this fund they drew their system of beauty; and though we should consider them but as imitators as to the parts, we must allow them to have been inventors in the compositions. And indeed, when we reflect on the taste and judgment requisite to form these various ideas into such a wonderful agreement, we cannot set too high a value on their productions. The poets and writers of Antiquity acknowledge this superiority of invented to real beauty.

Ainsi les artistes observant que la nature étoit avare de ses perfections, que ses faveurs étaient partagées entre les différentes parties, profiterent de cette inégalité pour réunir en un tout plus parfait, les beautés que la nature avait dispersées ; et d’une imitation imparfaite[[3:Ὁνπερ τροπον, και τοις τα αγαλματα τουτοις διαπλατλουσιν, οἱ παν το παν ἑκαστε καλον συναγαγοντες· καὶ κατα την τεχνην εκ διαφορων σωματων αθροισαντες εις μιμησιν μιαν, καλλος ἑν ὑγιες και αρτιον και ἡρμοσμενον αυτο αυτῳ εξειργασαντο. Και ουκ αν εὑροις σωμα ακριβες κατα αληθειαν αγαλματι ὁμοιον· Ορεγονται γαρ αἱ τεχναι του καλλιστου.Maxim. Tyr, Dissert. xxiii.]], ils s’élevèrent jusqu’au beau idéal. La gorge de Thaïs, la taille de Phryné servoient de modéle aux peintres de la Gréce. Leur imagination s’enrichissoit, et leur goût s’épuroit par la contemplation constante de la beauté ; et quoiqu’ils ne fussent qu’imitateurs quant aux parties, ils étoient inventeurs dans l’ensemble. En effet, si nous considérons combien il falloit de goût e de discernement pour combiner ces différentes parties, de maniere à en former un tout vrai qui plût, on ne peut attacher trop de prix à leur travail. Les poëtes et les auteurs de l’Antiquité ont reconnu la supériorité de la beauté idéale sur la beauté naturelle.