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Title: A Treatise on Painting
Author: Leonardo da Vinci
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.

*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A Treatise on Painting" ***

                          Transcriber's Note:

This e-text is based on the 1802 edition. The original spelling has been
retained, as well as inconsistencies, such as 'musquetry'/'musketry',
'Du Frêne'/'du Fresne', 'Melzio'/'Meltio'/'Melzi', etc. Uncommon or
old-style spelling has not been altered, such as 'opake' (opaque),
'verdegris' (verdigris), 'dutchess' (duchess), etc. Errors due to bad
print, as well as minor punctuation errors have been tacitly corrected.

In the text, the plates are referenced by using Roman numerals, whereas
the captions of the plates show Arabic numerals; the same applies to
the Table of Chapters and the chapter headings, respectively. This
inconsistency has been retained.

Footnotes related to introductory chapters have been prefixed with the
letter 'i' ([i1]-[i210]); footnotes in da Vinci's own text, however,
are shown in plain Arabic numerals ([1]-[102]).

Italic passages in the original version have been placed between
underscores (_text_); text in small caps has been symbolised by forward
slashes (/small caps/). A superscript character has been denominated by
a preceding caret symbol (^).

The following typographical errors have been corrected:

    # p. xviii: 'overspead' --> 'overspread'; 'Vincius ast oculis' -->
         'Vincius est oculis'
    # p. lxxxiii: 'Vasari, 36,' --> 'Vasari, p. 36'
    # p. lxxxv: 'Maestrodi' --> 'Maestro di'
    # p. xcii: 'Fontainbleau' --> 'Fontainebleau'
    # p. 22: Plate 2: original caption points to page 2; corrected to
         page 22.
    # p. 37: 'pully' -->'pulley'
    # p. 117: 'andso' --> 'and so'
    # p. 156: 'A B E D' --> 'C B E D'
    # p. 181: 'that that' --> 'than that'
    # Footnote 62: 'tranferred' --> 'transferred'

The Table of Chapters has been moved to the beginning of the text for
reasons of clarity and comprehensibility.






                          LEONARDO DA VINCI.

                       Printed by /S. Gosnell/,
                 Little Queen Street, Holborn, London.

                   [Illustration: LEONARDO DA VINCI,

                            from a Picture

                       In the Florentine Museum.

           _London, Published by J. Taylor 59 High Holborn_]






                         _LEONARDO DA VINCI_.


                           ORIGINAL ITALIAN,


                   /By/ JOHN FRANCIS RIGAUD, /Esq./

                         ACADEMY AT STOCKHOLM.

    Illustrated with twenty-three Copper-plates, and other Figures.

                         TO WHICH IS PREFIXED

                      _A NEW LIFE OF THE AUTHOR_,


               /By/ JOHN SIDNEY, HAWKINS, /Esq./ F.A.S.

           Ars est habitus quidam faciendi verâ cum ratione.

                        ARISTOT. ETHIC. LIB. 6.


                        PRINTED FOR J. TAYLOR,



_The Number at the End of each Title refers to the corresponding Chapter
in the original Edition in Italian._




    1. What the young Student in Painting ought in the first Place to
       learn. Chapter 1.

    2. Rule for a young Student in Painting. 3.

    3. How to discover a young Man's Disposition for Painting. 4.

    4. Of Painting, and its Divisions. 47.

    5. Division of the Figure. 48.

    6. Proportion of Members. 49.

    7. Of Dimensions in general. 173.

    8. Motion, Changes, and Proportion of Members. 166.

    9. The Difference of Proportion between Children and grown Men. 169.

    10. The Alterations in the Proportion of the human Body from
        Infancy to full Age. 167.

    11. Of the Proportion of Members. 175.

    12. That every Part be proportioned to its Whole. 250.

    13. Of the Proportion of the Members. 185.

    14. The Danger of forming an erroneous Judgment in regard to the
        Proportion and Beauty of the Parts. 42.

    15. Another Precept. 12.

    16. The Manner of drawing from Relievos, and rendering Paper fit
        for it. 127.

    17. Of drawing from Casts or Nature. 31.

    18. To draw Figures from Nature. 38.

    19. Of drawing from Nature. 25.

    20. Of drawing Academy Figures. 30.

    21. Of studying in the Dark, on first waking in the Morning, and
        before going to sleep. 17.

    22. Observations on drawing Portraits. 188.

    23. The Method of retaining in the Memory the Likeness of a Man, so
        as to draw his Portrait, after having seen him only once. 189.

    24. How to remember the Form of a Face. 190.

    25. That a Painter should take Pleasure in the Opinion of every
        Body. 19.


    26. What is principally to be observed in Figures. 213.

    27. Mode of Studying. 7.

    28. Of being universal. 22.

    29. A Precept for the Painter. 5.

    30. Of the Measures of the human Body, and the bending of Members.

    31. Of the small Bones in several Joints of the human Body. 229.

    32. Memorandum to be observed by the Painter. 57.

    33. The Shoulders. 171.

    34. The Difference of Joints between Children and grown Men. 168.

    35. Of the Joints of the Fingers. 170.

    36. Of the Joint of the Wrist. 176.

    37. Of the Joint of the Foot. 177.

    38. Of the Knee. 178.

    39. Of the Joints. 179.

    40. Of the Naked. 220.

    41. Of the Thickness of the Muscles. 221.

    42. Fat Subjects have small Muscles. 222.

    43. Which of the Muscles disappear in the different Motions of the
        Body. 223.

    44. Of the Muscles. 226.

    45. Of the Muscles. 224.

    46. The Extension and Contraction of the Muscles. 227.

    47. Of the Muscle between the Chest and the lower Belly. 230.

    48. Of a Man's complex Strength, but first of the Arm. 234.

    49. In which of the two Actions, Pulling or Pushing, a Man has the
        greatest Power, _Plate II._ 235.

    50. Of the bending of Members, and of the Flesh round the bending
        Joint. 236.

    51. Of the naked Body. 180.

    52. Of a Ligament without Muscles. 228.

    53. Of Creases. 238.

    54. How near behind the Back one Arm can be brought to the other.
        _Plate III._ and _IV._ 232.

    55. Of the Muscles. 225.

    56. Of the Muscles. 194.

    57. Of the bending of the Body. 204.

    58. The same Subject. 205.

    59. The Necessity of anatomical Knowledge. 43.


    60. Of the Equipoise of a Figure standing still. 203.

    61. Motion produced by the Loss of Equilibrium. 208.

    62. Of the Equipoise of Bodies, _Plate V._ 263.

    63. Of Positions. 192.

    64. Of balancing the Weight round the Centre of Gravity in Bodies.

    65. Of Figures that have to lift up, or carry any Weight. 215.

    66. The Equilibrium of a Man standing upon his Feet, _Plate VI._

    67. Of Walking, _Plate VII._ 202.

    68. Of the Centre of Gravity in Men and Animals. 199.

    69. Of the corresponding Thickness of Parts on each Side of the
        Body. 269.

    70. Of the Motions of Animals. 249.

    71. Of Quadrupeds and their Motions. 268.

    72. Of the Quickness or Slowness of Motion. 267.

    73. Of the Motion of Animals. 299.

    74. Of a Figure moving against the Wind, _Plate VIII._ 295.

    75. Of the Balance of a Figure resting upon its Feet. 266.

    76. A Precept. 350.

    77. Of a Man standing, but resting more upon one Foot than the
        other. 264.

    78. Of the Balance of Figures, _Plate IX._ 209.

    79. In what Manner extending one Arm alters the Balance. 198.

    80. Of a Man bearing a Weight on his Shoulders, _Plate X._ 200.

    81. Of Equilibrium. 206.

    82. Of Motion. 195.

    83. The Level of the Shoulders. 196.

    84. Objection to the above answered, _Plate XI._ and _XII._ 197.

    85. Of the Position of Figures, _Plate XIII._ 89.

    86. Of the Joints. 184.

    87. Of the Shoulders. 172.

    88. Of the Motions of a Man. 207.

    89. Of the Disposition of Members preparing to act with great
        Force, _Plate XIV._ 233.

    90. Of throwing any Thing with Violence, _Plate XV._ 261.

    91. On the Motion of driving any Thing into or drawing it out of
        the Ground. 262.

    92. Of forcible Motions, _Plate XVI._ 181.

    93. The Action of Jumping. 260.

    94. Of the three Motions in jumping upwards. 270.

    95. Of the easy Motions of Members. 211.

    96. The greatest Twist which a Man can make, in turning to look at
        himself behind, Plate _XVII._ 231.

    97. Of turning the Leg without the Thigh. 237.

    98. Postures of Figures. 265.

    99. Of the Gracefulness of the Members. 210.

    100. That it is impossible for any Memory to retain the Aspects and
         Changes of the Members. 271.

    101. The Motions of Figures. 242.

    102. Of common Motions. 248.

    103. Of simple Motions. 239.

    104. Complex Motions. 240.

    105. Motions appropriated to the Subject. 241.

    106. Appropriate Motions. 245.

    107. Of the Postures of Women and young People. 259.

    108. Of the Postures of Children. 258.

    109. Of the Motion of the Members. 186.

    110. Of mental Motions. 246.

    111. Effect of the Mind upon the Motions of the Body, occasioned by
         some outward Object. 247.


    112. Of those who apply themselves to the Practice, without having
         learnt the Theory of the Art. 23.

    113. Precepts in Painting. 349.

    114. Of the Boundaries of Objects called Outlines or Contours. 291.

    115. Of linear Perspective. 322.

    116. What Parts of Objects disappear first by Distance. 318.

    117. Of remote Objects. 316.

    118. Of the Point of Sight. 281.

    119. A Picture is to be viewed from one Point only. 59.

    120. Of the Dimensions of the first Figure in an historical
         Painting. 91.

    121. Of Objects that are lost to the Sight, in Proportion to their
         Distance. 292.

    122. Errors not so easily seen in small Objects as in large ones.

    123. Historical Subjects one above another on the same Wall to be
         avoided. 54.

    124. Why Objects in Painting can never detach as natural Objects
         do. 53.

    125. How to give the proper Dimension to Objects in Painting. 71.

    126. How to draw accurately any particular Spot. 32.

    127. Disproportion to be avoided, even in the accessory Parts. 290.


    128. Precept for avoiding a bad Choice in the Style or Proportion
         of Figures. 45.

    129. Variety in Figures. 21.

    130. How a Painter ought to proceed in his Studies. 6.

    131. Of sketching Histories and Figures. 13.

    132. How to study Composition. 96.

    133. Of the Attitudes of Men. 216.

    134. Variety of Positions. 217.

    135. Of Studies from Nature for History. 37.

    136. Of the Variety of Figures in History Painting. 94.

    137. Of Variety in History. 97.

    138. Of the Age of Figures. 252.

    139. Of Variety of Faces. 98.

    140. A Fault in Painters. 44.

    141. How you may learn to compose Groups for History Painting. 90.

    142. How to study the Motions of the human Body. 95.

    143. Of Dresses, and of Draperies and Folds. 358.

    144. Of the Nature of Folds in Draperies. 359.

    145. How the Folds of Draperies ought to be represented, _Plate
         XVIII._ 360.

    146. How the Folds in Draperies ought to be made. 361.

    147. Fore-shortening of Folds, _Plate XIX._ 362.

    148. Of Folds. 364.

    149. Of Decorum. 251.

    150. The Character of Figures in Composition. 253.

    151. The Motion of the Muscles, when the Figures are in natural
         Positions. 193.

    152. A Precept in Painting. 58.

    153. Of the Motion of Man, _Plate XX._ and _XXI._ 182.

    154. Of Attitudes, and the Motions of the Members. 183.

    155. Of a single Figure separate from an historical Group. 212.

    156. On the Attitudes of the human Figure. 218.

    157. How to represent a Storm. 66.

    158. How to compose a Battle. 67.

    159. The Representation of an Orator and his Audience. 254.

    160. Of demonstrative Gestures. 243.

    161. Of the Attitudes of the By-standers at some remarkable Event.

    162. How to represent Night. 65.

    163. The Method of awakening the Mind to a Variety of Inventions.

    164. Of Composition in History. 93.


    165. Of expressive Motions. 50.

    166. How to paint Children. 61.

    167. How to represent old Men. 62.

    168. How to paint old Women. 63.

    169. How to paint Women. 64.

    170. Of the Variety of Faces. 244.

    171. The Parts of the Face, and their Motions. 187.

    172. Laughing and Weeping. 257.

    173. Of Anger. 255.

    174. Despair. 256.

    LIGHT /and/ SHADOW.

    175. The Course of Study to be pursued. 2.

    176. Which of the two is the most useful Knowledge, the Outlines of
         Figures, or that of Light and Shadow. 56.

    177. Which is the most important, the Shadow or Outlines in
         Painting. 277.

    178. What is a Painter's first Aim and Object. 305.

    179. The Difference of Superficies, in regard to Painting. 278.

    180. How a Painter may become universal. 10.

    181. Accuracy ought to be learnt before Dispatch in the Execution.

    182. How the Painter is to place himself in regard to the Light,
         and his Model. 40.

    183. Of the best Light. 41.

    184. Of drawing by Candle-light. 34.

    185. Of those Painters who draw at Home from one Light, and
         afterwards adapt their Studies to another Situation in the
         Country, and a different Light. 46.

    186. How high the Light should be in drawing from Nature. 27.

    187. What Light the Painter must make use of to give most Relief to
         his Figures. 55.

    188. Advice to Painters. 26.

    189. Of Shadows. 60.

    190. Of the Kind of Light proper for drawing from Relievos, or from
         Nature. 29.

    191. Whether the Light should be admitted in Front or sideways; and
         which is the most pleasing and graceful. 74.

    192. Of the Difference of Lights according to the Situation. 289.

    193. How to distribute the Light on Figures. 279.

    194. Of the Beauty of Faces. 191.

    195. How, in drawing a Face, to give it Grace, by the Management of
         Light and Shade. 35.

    196. How to give Grace and Relief to Faces. 287.

    197. Of the Termination of Bodies upon each other. 294.

    198. Of the Back-grounds of painted Objects. 154.

    199. How to detach and bring forward Figures out of their
         Back-ground. 288.

    200. Of proper Back-grounds. 141.

    201. Of the general Light diffused over Figures. 303.

    202. Of those Parts in Shadows which appear the darkest at a
         Distance. 327.

    203. Of the Eye viewing the Folds of Draperies surrounding a
         Figure. 363.

    204. Of the Relief of Figures remote from the Eye. 336.

    205. Of Outlines of Objects on the Side towards the Light. 337.

    206. How to make Objects detach from their Ground, that is to say,
         from the Surface on which they are painted. 342.


    207. A Precept. 343.

    208. Of the Interposition of transparent Bodies between the Eye and
         the Object. 357.

    209. Of proper Back-grounds for Figures. 283.

    210. Of Back-grounds. 160.


    211. Of Objects placed on a light Ground, and why such a Practice
         is useful in Painting. 159.

    212. Of the different Effects of White, according to the Difference
         of Back-grounds. 139.

    213. Of Reverberation. 75.

    214. Where there cannot be any Reverberation of Light. 76.

    215. In what Part the Reflexes have more or less Brightness. 79.

    216. Of the reflected Lights which surround the Shadows. 78.

    217. Where Reflexes are to be most apparent. 82.

    218. What Part of a Reflex is to be the lightest. 80.

    219. Of the Termination of Reflexes on their Grounds. 88.

    220. Of double and treble Reflexions of Light. 83.

    221. Reflexes in the Water, and particularly those of the Air. 135.



    222. What Surface is best calculated to receive most Colours. 123.

    223. What Surface will shew most perfectly its true Colour. 125.

    224. On what Surface the true Colour is least apparent. 131.

    225. What Surfaces shew most of their true and genuine Colour. 132.

    226. Of the Mixture of Colours. 121.

    227. Of the Colours produced by the Mixture of other Colours,
         called secondary Colours. 161.

    228. Of Verdegris. 119.

    229. How to increase the Beauty of Verdegris. 120.

    230. How to paint a Picture that will last almost for ever. 352.

    231. The Mode of painting on Canvass, or Linen Cloth. 353.

    232. Of lively and beautiful Colours. 100.

    233. Of transparent Colours. 113.

    234. In what Part a Colour will appear in its greatest Beauty. 114.

    235. How any Colour without Gloss, is more beautiful in the Lights
         than in the Shades. 115.

    236. Of the Appearance of Colours. 116.

    237. What Part of a Colour is to be the most beautiful. 117.

    238. That the Beauty of a Colour is to be found in the Lights. 118.

    239. Of Colours. 111.

    240. No Object appears in its true Colour, unless the Light which
         strikes upon it be of the same Colour. 150.

    241. Of the Colour of Shadows. 147.

    242. Of Colours. 153.

    243. Whether it be possible for all Colours to appear alike by
         means of the same Shadow. 109.

    244. Why White is not reckoned among the Colours. 155.

    245. Of Colours. 156.

    246. Of the Colouring of remote Objects. 339.

    247. The Surface of all opake Bodies participates of the Colour of
         the surrounding Objects. 298.

    248. General Remarks on Colours. 162.


    249. Of the Light proper for painting Flesh Colour from Nature. 36.

    250. Of the Painter's Window. 296.

    251. The Shadows of Colours. 101.

    252. Of the Shadows of White. 104.

    253. Which of the Colours will produce the darkest Shade. 105.

    254. How to manage, when a White terminates upon another White. 138.

    255. On the Back-grounds of Figures. 140.

    256. The Mode of composing History. 92.

    257. Remarks concerning Lights and Shadows. 302.

    258. Why the Shadows of Bodies upon a white Wall are blueish
         towards the Evening. 328.

    259. Of the Colour of Faces. 126.

    260. A Precept relating to Painting. 284.

    261. Of Colours in Shadow. 158.

    262. Of the Choice of Lights. 28.


    263. Of avoiding hard Outlines. 51.

    264. Of Outlines. 338.

    265. Of Back-grounds. 334.

    266. How to detach Figures from the Ground. 70.

    267. Of Uniformity and Variety of Colours upon plain Surfaces. 304.

    268. Of Back-grounds suitable both to Shadows and Lights. 137.

    269. The apparent Variation of Colours, occasioned by the Contraste
         of the Ground upon which they are placed. 112.


    270. Gradation in Painting. 144.

    271. How to assort Colours in such a Manner as that they may add
         Beauty to each other. 99.

    272. Of detaching the Figures. 73.

    273. Of the Colour of Reflexes. 87.

    274. What Body will be the most strongly tinged with the Colour of
         any other Object. 124.

    275. Of Reflexes. 77.

    276. Of the Surface of all shadowed Bodies. 122.

    277. That no reflected Colour is simple, but is mixed with the
         Nature of the other Colours. 84.

    278. Of the Colour of Lights and Reflexes. 157.

    279. Why reflected Colours seldom partake of the Colour of the Body
         where they meet. 85.

    280. The Reflexes of Flesh Colours. 81.

    281. Of the Nature of Comparison. 146.

    282. Where the Reflexes are seen. 86.


    283. A Precept of Perspective in regard to Painting. 354.

    284. Of the Perspective of Colours. 134.

    285. The Cause of the Diminution of Colours. 136.

    286. Of the Diminution of Colours and Objects. 356.

    287. Of the Variety observable in Colours, according to their
         Distance or Proximity. 102.

    288. At what Distance Colours are entirely lost. 103.

    289. Of the Change observable in the same Colour, according to its
         Distance from the Eye. 128.

    290. Of the blueish Appearance of remote Objects in a Landscape.

    291. Of the Qualities in the Surface which first lose themselves by
         Distance. 293.

    292. From what Cause the Azure of the Air proceeds. 151.

    293. Of the Perspective of Colours. 107.

    294. Of the Perspective of Colours in dark Places. 148.

    295. Of the Perspective of Colours. 149.

    296. Of Colours. 152.

    297. How it happens that Colours do not change, though placed in
         different Qualities of Air. 108.

    298. Why Colours experience no apparent Change, though placed in
         different Qualities of Air. 106.

    299. Contrary Opinions in regard to Objects seen afar off. 142.

    300. Of the Colour of Objects remote from the Eye. 143.

    301. Of the Colour of Mountains. 163.

    302. Why the Colour and Shape of Objects are lost in some
         Situations apparently dark, though not so in Reality. 110.

    303. Various Precepts in Painting. 340.


    304. Aerial Perspective. 165.

    305. The Parts of the smallest Objects will first disappear in
         Painting. 306.

    306. Small Figures ought not to be too much finished. 282.

    307. Why the Air is to appear whiter as it approaches nearer to the
         Earth. 69.

    308. How to paint the distant Part of a Landscape. 68.

    309. Of precise and confused Objects. 72.

    310. Of distant Objects. 355.

    311. Of Buildings seen in a thick Air. 312.

    312. Of Towns and other Objects seen through a thick Air. 309.

    313. Of the inferior Extremities of distant Objects. 315.

    314. Which Parts of Objects disappear first by being removed
         farther from the Eye, and which preserve their Appearance. 321.

    315. Why Objects are less distinguished in proportion as they are
         farther removed from the Eye. 319.

    316. Why Faces appear dark at a Distance. 320.

    317. Of Towns and other Buildings seen through a Fog in the Morning
         or Evening. 325.

    318. Of the Height of Buildings seen in a Fog. 324.

    319. Why Objects which are high, appear darker at a Distance than
         those which are low, though the Fog be uniform, and of equal
         Thickness. 326.

    320. Of Objects seen in a Fog. 323.

    321. Of those Objects which the Eye perceives through a Mist or
         thick Air. 311.

    322. Miscellaneous Observations. 308.



    323. Of Objects seen at a Distance. 313.

    324. Of a Town seen through a thick Air. 314.

    325. How to draw a Landscape. 33.

    326. Of the Green of the Country. 129.

    327. What Greens will appear most of a blueish Cast. 130.

    328. The Colour of the Sea from different Aspects. 145.

    329. Why the same Prospect appears larger at some Times than at
         others. 307.

    330. Of Smoke. 331.

    331. In what Part Smoke is lightest. 329.

    332. Of the Sun-beams passing through the Openings of Clouds. 310.

    333. Of the Beginning of Rain. 347.

    334. The Seasons are to be observed. 345.

    335. The Difference of Climates is to be observed. 344.

    336. Of Dust. 330.

    337. How to represent the Wind. 346.

    338. Of a Wilderness. 285.

    339. Of the Horizon seen in the Water. 365.

    340. Of the Shadow of Bridges on the Surface of the Water. 348.

    341. How a Painter ought to put in Practice the Perspective of
         Colours. 164.

    342. Various Precepts in Painting. 332.

    343. The Brilliancy of a Landscape. 133.


    344. Why a painted Object does not appear so far distant as a real
         one, though they be conveyed to the Eye by equal Angles. 333.

    345. How to draw a Figure standing upon its Feet, to appear forty
         Braccia high, in a Space of twenty Braccia, with proportionate
         Members. 300.

    346. How to draw a Figure twenty-four Braccia high, upon a Wall
         twelve Braccia high. _Plate XXII._ 301.

    347. Why, on measuring a Face, and then painting it of the same
         Size, it will appear larger than the natural one. 297.

    348. Why the most perfect Imitation of Nature will not appear to
         have the same Relief as Nature itself. 341.

    349. Universality of Painting. A Precept. 9.

    350. In what Manner the Mirror is the true Master of Painters. 275.

    351. Which Painting is to be esteemed the best. 276.

    352. Of the Judgment to be made of a Painter's Work. 335.

    353. How to make an imaginary Animal appear natural. 286.

    354. Painters are not to imitate one another. 24.

    355. How to judge of one's own Work. 274.

    356. Of correcting Errors which you discover. 14.

    357. The best Place for looking at a Picture. 280.

    358. Of Judgment. 15.

    359. Of Employment anxiously wished for by Painters. 272.

    360. Advice to Painters. 8.

    361. Of Statuary. 351.

    362. On the Measurement and Division of Statues into Parts. 39.

    363. A Precept for the Painter. 11.

    364. On the Judgment of Painters. 273.

    365. That a Man ought not to trust to himself, but ought to consult
         Nature. 20.


                                TO THE

                         PRESENT TRANSLATION.

The excellence of the following Treatise is so well known to all in any
tolerable degree conversant with the Art of Painting, that it would be
almost superfluous to say any thing respecting it, were it not that it
here appears under the form of a new translation, of which some account
may be expected.

Of the original Work, which is in reality a selection from the
voluminous manuscript collections of the Author, both in folio and
quarto, of all such passages as related to Painting, no edition
appeared in print till 1651, though its Author died so long before as
the year 1519; and it is owing to the circumstance of a manuscript
copy of these extracts in the original Italian, having fallen into
the hands of Raphael du Fresne; that in the former of these years
it was published at Paris in a thin folio volume in that language,
accompanied with a set of cuts from the drawings of Nicolo Poussin, and
Alberti; the former having designed the human figures, the latter the
geometrical and other representations. This precaution was probably
necessary, the sketches in the Author's own collections being so very
slight as not to be fit for publication without further assistance.
Poussin's drawings were mere outlines, and the shadows and back-grounds
behind the figures were added by Errard, after the drawings had been
made, and, as Poussin himself says, without his knowledge.

In the same year, and size, and printed at the same place, a
translation of the original work into French was given to the world by
Monsieur de Chambray (well known, under his family name of Freart, as
the author of an excellent Parallel of ancient and modern Architecture,
in French, which Mr. Evelyn translated into English). The style of this
translation by Mons. de Chambray, being thought, some years after, too
antiquated, some one was employed to revise and modernise it; and in
1716 a new edition of it, thus polished, came out, of which it may be
truly said, as is in general the case on such occasions, that whatever
the supposed advantage obtained in purity and refinement of language
might be, it was more than counterbalanced by the want of the more
valuable qualities of accuracy, and fidelity to the original, from
which, by these variations, it became further removed.

The first translation of this Treatise into English, appeared in the
year 1721. It does not declare by whom it was made; but though it
professes to have been done from the original Italian, it is evident,
upon a comparison, that more use was made of the revised edition of
the French translation. Indifferent, however, as it is, it had become
so scarce, and risen to a price so extravagant, that, to supply the
demand, it was found necessary, in the year 1796, to reprint it as it
stood, with all its errors on its head, no opportunity then offering of
procuring a fresh translation.

This last impression, however, being now also disposed of, and a new
one again called for, the present Translator was induced to step
forward, and undertake the office of fresh translating it, on finding,
by comparing the former versions both in French and English with
the original, many passages which he thought might at once be more
concisely and more faithfully rendered. His object, therefore, has
been to attain these ends, and as rules and precepts like the present
allow but little room for the decorations of style, he has been more
solicitous for fidelity, perspicuity, and precision, than for smooth
sentences, and well-turned periods.

Nor was this the only advantage which it was found the present
opportunity would afford; for the original work consisting in fact of
a number of entries made at different times, without any regard to
their subjects, or attention to method, might rather in that state be
considered as a chaos of intelligence, than a well-digested treatise.
It has now, therefore, for the first time, been attempted to place
each chapter under the proper head or branch of the art to which
it belongs; and by so doing, to bring together those which (though
related and nearly connected in substance) stood, according to the
original arrangement, at such a distance from each other as to make
it troublesome to find them even by the assistance of an index; and
difficult, when found, to compare them together.

The consequence of this plan, it must be confessed, has been, that in
a few instances the same precept has been found in substance repeated;
but this is so far from being an objection, that it evidently proves
the precepts were not the hasty opinions of the moment, but settled and
fixed principles in the mind of the Author, and that he was consistent
in the expression of his sentiments. But if this mode of arrangement
has in the present case disclosed what might have escaped observation,
it has also been productive of more material advantages; for, besides
facilitating the finding of any particular passage (an object in itself
of no small importance), it clearly shews the work to be a much more
complete system than those best acquainted with it, had before any idea
of, and that many of the references in it apparently to other writings
of the same Author, relate in fact only to the present, the chapters
referred to having been found in it. These are now pointed out in the
notes, and where any obscurity has occurred in the text, the reader
will find some assistance at least attempted by the insertion of a note
to solve the difficulty.

No pains or expense have been spared in preparing the present work
for the press. The cuts have been re-engraven with more attention
to correctness in the drawing, than those which accompanied the two
editions of the former English translation possessed (even though they
had been fresh engraven for the impression of 1796); and the diagrams
are now inserted in their proper places in the text, instead of being,
as before, collected all together in two plates at the end. Besides
this, a new Life of the Author has been also added by a Friend of the
Translator, the materials for which have been furnished, not from vague
reports, or uncertain conjectures, but from memoranda of the Author
himself, not before used.

Fortunately for this undertaking, the manuscript collections of
Leonardo da Vinci, which have lately passed from Italy into France,
have, since their removal thither, been carefully inspected, and
an abstract of their contents published in a quarto pamphlet,
printed at Paris in 1797, and intitled, "Essai sur les Ouvrages
physico-mathematiques de Leonard de Vinci;" by J. B. Venturi, Professor
of Natural Philosophy at Modena; a Member of the Institute of Bologna,
&c. From this pamphlet a great deal of original intelligence respecting
the Author has been obtained, which, derived as it is from his own
information, could not possibly be founded on better evidence.

To this Life we shall refer the reader for a further account of the
origin and history of the present Treatise, conceiving we have already
effected our purpose, by here giving him a sufficient idea of what he
is to expect from the ensuing pages.

                               THE LIFE


                         _LEONARDO DA VINCI_.

Leonardo da Vinci, the Author of the following Treatise, was the
natural son of Pietro da Vinci, a notary of Vinci, in Tuscany[i1], a
village situated in the valley of Arno, a little below Florence, and
was born in the year 1452[i2].

Having discovered, when a child, a strong inclination and talent for
painting, of which he had given proofs by several little drawings and
sketches; his father one day accidentally took up some of them, and
was induced to shew them to his friend Andrea Verocchio, a painter
of some reputation in Florence, who was also a chaser, an architect,
a sculptor, and goldsmith, for his advice, as to the propriety of
bringing up his son to the profession of painting, and the probability
of his becoming eminent in the art. The answer of Verocchio was such as
to confirm him in that resolution; and Leonardo, to fit him for that
purpose, was accordingly placed under the tuition of Verocchio[i3].

As Verocchio combined in himself a perfect knowledge of the arts of
chasing and sculpture, and was a deep proficient in architecture,
Leonardo had in this situation the means and opportunity of acquiring a
variety of information, which though perhaps not immediately connected
with the art to which his principal attention was to be directed,
might, with the assistance of such a mind as Leonardo's, be rendered
subsidiary to his grand object, tend to promote his knowledge of the
theory, and facilitate his practice of the profession for which he
was intended. Accordingly we find that he had the good sense to avail
himself of these advantages, and that under Verocchio he made great
progress, and attracted his master's friendship and confidence, by the
talents he discovered, the sweetness of his manners, and the vivacity
of his disposition[i4]. Of his proficiency in painting, the following
instance is recorded; and the skill he afterwards manifested in other
branches of science, on various occasions, evidently demonstrated how
solicitous he had been for knowledge of all kinds, and how careful in
his youth to lay a good foundation. Verocchio had undertaken for the
religious of Vallombrosa, without Florence, a picture of our Saviour's
Baptism by St. John, and consigned to Leonardo the office of putting
in from the original drawing, the figure of an angel holding up the
drapery; but, unfortunately for Verocchio, Leonardo succeeded so well,
that, despairing of ever equalling the work of his scholar, Verocchio
in disgust abandoned his pencil for ever, confining himself in future
solely to the practice of sculpture[i5].

On this success Leonardo became sensible that he no longer stood in
need of an instructor; and therefore quitting Verocchio, he now began
to work and study for himself. Many of his performances of this period
are still, or were lately to be seen at Florence; and besides these,
the following have been also mentioned: A cartoon of Adam and Eve in
the Garden, which he did for the King of Portugal[i6]. This is highly
commended for the exquisite gracefulness of the two principal figures,
the beauty of the landscape, and the incredible exactitude of the
shrubs and fruit. At the instance of his father, he made a painting for
one of his old neighbours at Vinci[i7]; it consisted wholly of such
animals as have naturally an hatred to each other, joined artfully
together in a variety of attitudes. Some authors have said that this
painting was a shield[i8], and have related the following particulars
respecting it.

One of Pietro's neighbours meeting him one day at Florence, told him he
had been making a shield, and would be glad of his assistance to get it
painted; Pietro undertook this office, and applied to his son to make
good the promise. When the shield was brought to Leonardo, he found it
so ill made, that he was obliged to get a turner to smooth it; and when
that was done, he began to consider with what subject he should paint
it. For this purpose he got together, in his apartment, a collection of
live animals, such as lizards, crickets, serpents, silk-worms, locusts,
bats, and other creatures of that kind, from the multitude of which,
variously adapted to each other, he formed an horrible and terrific
animal, emitting fire and poison from his jaws, flames from his eyes,
and smoke from his nostrils; and with so great earnestness did Leonardo
apply to this, that though in his apartment the stench of the animals
that from time to time died there, was so strong as to be scarcely
tolerable, he, through his love to the art, entirely disregarded it.
The work being finished, Leonardo told his father he might now see it;
and the father one morning coming to his apartment for that purpose,
Leonardo, before he admitted him, placed the shield so as to receive
from the window its full and proper light, and then opened the door.
Not knowing what he was to expect, and little imagining that what he
saw was not the creatures themselves, but a mere painted representation
of them, the father, on entering and beholding the shield, was at first
staggered and shocked; which the son perceiving, told him he might now
send the shield to his friend, as, from the effect which the sight of
it had then produced, he found he had attained the object at which he
aimed. Pietro, however, had too much sagacity not to see that this was
by much too great a curiosity for a mere countryman, who would never
be sensible of its value; he therefore privately bought for his friend
an ordinary shield, rudely painted with the device of an heart with an
arrow through it, and sold this for an hundred ducats to some merchants
at Florence, by whom it was again sold for three hundred to the Duke of

He afterwards painted a picture of the Virgin Mary, and by her side a
vessel of water, in which were flowers: in this he so contrived it, as
that the light reflected from the flowers threw a pale redness on the
water. This picture was at one time in the possession of Pope Clement
the Seventh[i10].

For his friend Antonio Segni he also made a design, representing
Neptune in his car, drawn by sea-horses, and attended by tritons and
sea-gods; the heavens overspread with clouds, which were driven in
all directions by the violence of the winds; the waves appeared to be
rolling, and the whole ocean seemed in an uproar[i11]. This drawing was
afterwards given by Fabio the son of Antonio Segni, to Giovanni Gaddi,
a great collector of drawings, with this epigram:

    Pinxit Virgilius Neptunum, pinxit Homerus,
      Dum maris undisoni per vada flectit equos.
    Mente quidem vates illum conspexit uterque,
      Vincius est oculis, jureque vincit eos[i12].

                  In English thus:

    Virgil and Homer, when they Neptune shew'd,
      As he through boist'rous seas his steeds compell'd,
    In the mind's eye alone his figure view'd;
      But Vinci _saw_ him, and has both excell'd[i13].

To these must be added the following: A painting representing two
horsemen engaged in fight, and struggling to tear a flag from
each other: rage and fury are in this admirably expressed in the
countenances of the two combatants; their air appears wild, and the
drapery is thrown into an unusual though agreeable disorder. A Medusa's
head, and a picture of the Adoration of the Magi[i14]. In this last
there are some fine heads, but both this and the Medusa's head are said
by Du Fresne to have been evidently unfinished.

The mind of Leonardo was however too active and capacious to be
contented solely with the practical part of his art; nor could it
submit to receive as principles, conclusions, though confirmed
by experience, without first tracing them to their source, and
investigating their causes, and the several circumstances on which
they depended. For this purpose he determined to engage in a deep
examination into the theory of his art; and the better to effect his
intention, he resolved to call in to his aid the assistance of all such
other branches of science as could in any degree promote this grand

Vasari has related[i15], that at a very early age he had, in the short
time of a few months only that he applied to it, obtained a deep
knowledge of arithmetic; and says, that in literature in general, he
would have made great attainments, if he had not been too versatile
to apply long to one subject. In music, he adds, he had made some
progress; that he then determined to learn to play on the lyre; and
that having an uncommonly fine voice, and an extraordinary promptitude
of thought and expression, he became a celebrated _improvisatore_: but
that his attention to these did not induce him to neglect painting
and modelling in which last art he was so great a proficient, that
in his youth he modelled in clay some heads of women laughing, and
also some boys' heads, which appeared to have come from the hand of a
master. In architecture, he made many plans and designs for buildings,
and, while he was yet young, proposed conveying the river Arno into
the canal at Pisa[i16]. Of his skill in poetry the reader may judge
from the following sonnet preserved by Lomazzo[i17], the only one now
existing of his composition; and for the translation with which it is
accompanied we are indebted to a lady.

                SONNETTO MORALE.

    Chi non può quel vuol, quel che può voglia,
        Che quel che non si può folle è volere.
        Adunque saggio è l'uomo da tenere,
    Che da quel che non può suo voler toglia.

    Però ch'ogni diletto nostro e doglia
        Sta in sì e nò, saper, voler, potere,
        Adunque quel sol può, che co 'l dovere
    Ne trahe la ragion suor di sua soglia.

    Ne sempre è da voler quel che l'uom puote,
        Spesso par dolce quel che torna amaro,
        Piansi gia quel ch'io volsi, poi ch'io l'ebbi.

    Adunque tu, lettor di queste note,
        S'a te vuoi esser buono e a' gli altri caro,
        Vogli sempre poter quel che tu debbi.


                A MORAL SONNET.

    The man who cannot what he would attain,
    Within his pow'r his wishes should restrain:
    The wish of Folly o'er that bound aspires,
    The wise man by it limits his desires.

    Since all our joys so close on sorrows run,
    We know not what to choose or what to shun;
    Let all our wishes still our duty meet,
    Nor banish Reason from her awful seat.

    Nor is it always best for man to will
    Ev'n what his pow'rs can reach; some latent ill
    Beneath a fair appearance may delude
    And make him rue what earnest he pursued.

    Then, Reader, as you scan this simple page,
    Let this one care your ev'ry thought engage,
    (With self-esteem and gen'ral love 't is fraught,)
    Wish only pow'r to do just what you ought.

The course of study which Leonardo had thus undertaken, would, in its
most limited extent by any one who should attempt it at this time, be
found perhaps almost more than could be successfully accomplished;
but yet his curiosity and unbounded thirst for information, induced
him rather to enlarge than contract his plan. Accordingly we find,
that to the study of geometry, sculpture, anatomy, he added those of
architecture, mechanics, optics, hydrostatics, astronomy, and Nature in
general, in all her operations[i18]; and the result of his observations
and experiments, which were intended not only for present use, but
as the basis and foundation of future discoveries, he determined, as
he proceeded, to commit to writing. At what time he began these his
collections, of which we shall have occasion to speak more particularly
hereafter, is no where mentioned; but it is with certainty known, that
by the month of April 1490, he had already completely filled two folio

Notwithstanding Leonardo's propensity and application to study, he was
not inattentive to the graces of external accomplishments; he was very
skilful in the management of an horse, rode gracefully, and when he
afterwards arrived to a state of affluence, took particular pleasure in
appearing in public well mounted and handsomely accoutred. He possessed
great dexterity in the use of arms: for mien and grace he might contend
with any gentleman of his time: his person was remarkably handsome,
his behaviour so perfectly polite, and his conversation so charming,
that his company was coveted by all who knew him; but the avocations to
which this last circumstance subjected him, are one reason why so many
of his works remain unfinished[i20].

With such advantages of mind and body as these, it was no wonder that
his reputation should spread itself, as we find it soon did, over all
Italy. The painting of the shield before mentioned, had already, as has
been noticed, come into the possession of the Duke of Milan; and the
subsequent accounts which he had from time to time heard of Leonardo's
abilities and talents, induced Lodovic Sforza, surnamed the Moor,
then Duke of Milan, about, or a little before the year 1489[i21], to
invite him to his court, and to settle on him a pension of five hundred
crowns, a considerable sum at that time[i22].

Various are the reasons assigned for this invitation: Vasari[i23]
attributes it to his skill in music, a science of which the Duke is
said to have been fond; others have ascribed it to a design which the
Duke entertained of erecting a brazen statue to the memory of his
father[i24]; but others conceive it originated from the circumstance,
that the Duke had not long before established at Milan an academy for
the study of painting, sculpture, and architecture, and was desirous
that Leonardo should take the conduct and direction of it[i25]. The
second was, however, we find, the true motive; and we are further
informed, that the invitation was accepted by Leonardo, that he went to
Milan, and was already there in 1489[i26].

Among the collections of Leonardo still existing in manuscript, is a
copy of a memorial presented by him to the Duke about 1490, of which
Venturi has given an abridgment[i27]. In it he offers to make for the
Duke military bridges, which should be at the same time light and very
solid, and to teach him the method of placing and defending them with
security. When the object is to take any place, he can, he says, empty
the ditch of its water; he knows, he adds, the art of constructing a
subterraneous gallery under the ditches themselves, and of carrying
it to the very spot that shall be wanted. If the fort is not built
on a rock, he undertakes to throw it down, and mentions that he has
new contrivances for bombarding machines, ordnance, and mortars, some
adapted to throw hail shot, fire, and smoke, among the enemy; and
for all other machines proper for a siege, and for war, either by
sea or land, according to circumstances. In peace also, he says he
can be useful in what concerns the erection of buildings, conducting
of water-courses, sculpture in bronze or marble, and painting; and
remarks, that at the same time that he may be pursuing any of the above
objects, the equestrian statue to the memory of the Duke's father, and
his illustrious family, may still be going on. If any one doubts the
possibility of what he proposes, he offers to prove it by experiment,
and ocular demonstration.

From this memorial it seems clear, that the casting of the bronze
statue was his principal object; painting is only mentioned
incidentally, and no notice is taken of the direction or management of
the academy for painting, sculpture, and architecture; it is probable,
therefore, that at this time there was no such intention, though it is
certainly true, that he was afterwards placed at the head of it, and
that he banished from it the barbarous style of architecture which till
then had prevailed in it, and introduced in its stead a more pure and
classical taste. Whatever was the fact with respect to the academy, it
is however well known that the statue was cast in bronze, finished, and
put up at Milan, but afterwards demolished by the French when they took
possession of that place[i28] after the defeat of Lodovic Sforza.

Some time after Leonardo's arrival at Milan, a design had been
entertained of cutting a canal from Martesana to Milan, for the purpose
of opening a communication by water between these two places, and, as
it is said, of supplying the last with water. It had been first thought
of so early as 1457[i29]; but from the difficulties to be expected in
its execution, it seems to have been laid aside, or at least to have
proceeded slowly, till Leonardo's arrival. His offers of service as
engineer in the above memorial, probably induced Lodovic Sforza, the
then Duke, to resume the intention with vigour, and accordingly we
find the plan was determined on, and the execution of it intrusted to
Leonardo. The object was noble, but the difficulties to be encountered
were sufficient to have discouraged any mind but Leonardo's; for the
distance was no less than two hundred miles; and before it could be
completed, hills were to be levelled, and vallies filled up, to render
them navigable with security[i30].

In order to enable him to surmount the obstacles with which he
foresaw he should have to contend, he retired to the house of his
friend Signior Melzi, at Vaverola, not far distant from Milan, and
there applied himself sedulously for some years, as it is said, but
at intervals only we must suppose, and according as his undertaking
proceeded, to the study of philosophy, mathematics, and every branch
of science that could at all further his design; still continuing
the method he had before adopted, of entering down in writing
promiscuously, whatever he wished to implant in his memory: and at
this place, in this and his subsequent visits from time to time, he is
supposed to have made the greater part of the collections he has left
behind him[i31], of the contents of which we shall hereafter speak more
at large.

Although engaged in the conduct of so vast an undertaking, and in
studies so extensive, the mind of Leonardo does not appear to have
been so wholly occupied or absorbed in them as to incapacitate him
from attending at the same time to other objects also; and the Duke
therefore being desirous of ornamenting Milan with some specimens of
his skill as a painter, employed him to paint in the refectory of the
Dominican convent of Santa Maria delle Gratie, in that city, a picture,
the subject of which was to be the Last Supper. Of this picture it
is related, that Leonardo was so impressed with the dignity of the
subject, and so anxious to answer the high ideas he had formed of it in
his own mind, that his progress was very slow, and that he spent much
time in meditation and thought, during which the work was apparently
at a stand. The Prior of the convent, thinking it therefore neglected,
complained to the Duke; but Leonardo assuring the Duke that not less
than two hours were every day bestowed on it, he was satisfied.
Nevertheless the Prior, after a short time, finding the work very
little advanced, once more applied to the Duke, who in some degree of
anger, as thinking Leonardo had deceived him, reprimanded him in strong
terms for his delay. What Leonardo had scorned to urge to the Prior in
his defence, he now thought fit to plead in his excuse to the Duke, to
convince him that a painter did not labour solely with his hands, but
that his mind might be deeply studying his subject, when his hands were
unemployed, and he in appearance perfectly idle. In proof of this, he
told the Duke that nothing remained to the completion of the picture
but the heads of our Saviour and Judas; that as to the former, he had
not yet been able to find a fit model to express its divinity, and
found his invention inadequate of itself to represent it: that with
respect to that of Judas, he had been in vain for two years searching
among the most abandoned and profligate of the species for an head
which would convey an idea of his character; but that this difficulty
was now at length removed, since he had nothing to do but to introduce
the head of the Prior, whose ingratitude for the pains he was taking,
rendered him a fit archetype of the perfidy and ingratitude he wished
to express. Some persons have said[i32], that the head of Judas in the
picture was actually copied from that of the Prior; but Mariette denies
it, and says this reply was merely intended as a threat[i33].

A difference of opinion has also prevailed concerning the head
of our Saviour in this picture; for some have conceived it left
intentionally unfinished[i34], while others think there is a gradation
of resemblance, which increasing in beauty in St. John and our Saviour,
shews in the dignified countenance of the latter a spark of his divine
majesty. In the countenance of the Redeemer, say these last, and in
that of Judas, is excellently expressed the extreme idea of God made
man, and of the most perfidious of mortals. This is also pursued in the
characters nearest to each of them[i35].

Little judgment can now be formed of the original beauty of this
picture, which has been, and apparently with very good reason, highly
commended. Unfortunately, though it is said to have been in oil, the
wall on which it was painted not having been properly prepared, the
original colours have been so effectually defaced by the damp, as
to be no longer visible[i36]; and the fathers, for whose use it was
painted, thinking it entirely destroyed, and some years since wishing
to heighten and widen a door under it, leading out of their refectory,
have given a decided proof of their own want of taste, and how little
they were sensible of its value, by permitting the workmen to break
through the wall on which it was painted, and, by so doing, entirely
to destroy the lower part of the picture[i37]. The injury done by the
damp to the colouring has been, it is true, in some measure repaired by
Michael Angelo Bellotti, a painter of Milan, who viewing the picture
in 1726, made an offer to the Prior and convent to restore, by means
of a secret which he possessed, the original colours. His proposition
being accepted, and the experiment succeeding beyond their hopes, the
convent made him a present of five hundred pounds for his labour, and
he in return communicated to them the secret by which it had been

Deprived, as they certainly are by these events, of the means of
judging accurately of the merit of the original, it is still some
consolation to the lovers of painting, that several copies of it made
by Leonardo's scholars, many of whom were very able artists, and at a
time when the picture had not been yet injured, are still in existence.
A list of these copies is given by P. M. Guglielmo della Valle, in his
edition of Vasari's Lives of the Painters, in Italian, vol. v. p. 34,
and from him it is here inserted in the note[i39]. Francis the First
was so charmed on viewing the original, that not being able to remove
it, he had a copy made, which is now, or was some years since, at St.
Germains, and several prints have been published from it; but the best
which has yet appeared (and very fine it is) is one not long since
engraven by Morghen, at Rome, impressions of which have found their way
into this country, and been sold, it is said, for ten or twelve guineas

In the same refectory of the Dominicans at Milan is, or was, also
preserved a painting by Leonardo, representing Duke Lodovic, and
Beatrix his duchess, on their knees; done no doubt about this
time[i40]. And at or near this period, he also painted for the Duke the
Nativity, which was formerly, and may perhaps be still, in the Emperor
of Germany's collection[i41].

As Leonardo's principal aim, whenever he was left at liberty to pursue
the bent of his own inclination, seems to have been progressive
improvement in the art of painting, he appears to have sedulously
embraced all opportunities of increasing his information; and wisely
perceiving, that without a thorough acquaintance with anatomy, a
painter could effect but little, he was particularly desirous of
extending his knowledge in that branch. For that purpose he had
frequent conferences on the subject with Marc Antonio della Torre,
professor of anatomy at Pavia[i42], and not only was present at many
dissections performed by him, but made abundance of anatomical drawings
from Nature, many of which were afterwards collected into a volume by
his scholar Francisco Melzi[i43].

Such perseverance and assiduity as Leonardo's, united as they were
with such uncommon powers as his, had already formed many artists at
that time of distinguished reputation, but who afterwards became still
more famous, and might probably have rendered Milan the repository
of some of the most valuable specimens of painting, and raised it to
a rank little, if at all, inferior to that which Florence has since
held with the admirers of the polite arts, had it not happened that by
the disastrous termination of a contest between the Duke of Milan and
the French, all hopes of further improvement were entirely cut off;
and Milan, at one blow, lost all the advantages of which it was even
then in possession. For about this time the troubles in Italy began
to break in on Leonardo's quiet, and he found his patron, the Duke,
engaged in a war with the French for the possession of his dukedom;
which not only endangered the academy, but ultimately deprived him both
of his dominions and his liberty; as the Duke was, in 1500, completely
defeated, taken prisoner, and carried into France, where, in 1510, he
died a prisoner in the castle of Loches[i44].

By this event of the Duke's defeat, and the consequent ruin of the
Sforza family, all further progress in the canal of Martesana, of which
much still remained to be done[i45], was put a stop to; the academy
of architecture and painting was entirely broken up; the professors
were turned adrift, and the arts banished from Milan, which at one
time had promised to have been their refuge and principal feat[i46].
Italy in general was, it is true, a gainer by the dispersion of so many
able and deeply instructed artists as issued from this school, though
Milan suffered; for nothing could so much tend to the dissemination
of knowledge as the mixing such men among others who needed that
information in which these excelled. Among the number thus separated
from each other, we find painters, carvers, architects, founders,
and engravers in crystal and precious stones, and the names of the
following have been given, as the principal: Cesare da Sesto, Andrea
Salaino, Gio. Antonio Boltraffio, Bernardino Lovino, Bartolommeo della
Porta, Lorenzo Lotto[i47]. To these has been added Gio. Paolo Lomazzo;
but Della Valle, in a note in his edition of Vasari, vol. v. p. 34,
says this last was a disciple of Gio. Battista della Cerva, and not of
Leonardo. Du Fresne mentions besides the above, Francis Melzi, Mark
Uggioni Gobbo, an extraordinary painter and carver; Annibal Fontana,
a worker in marble and precious stones; and Bernazzano, an excellent
painter of landscapes; but omits Della Porta, and Lorenzo Lotto.

In 1499, the year before Duke Lodovic's defeat, Leonardo being at
Milan, was employed by the principal inhabitants to contrive an
automaton for the entertainment of Lewis XII. King of France, who was
expected shortly to make a public entry into that city. This Leonardo
did, and it consisted of a machine representing a lion, whose inside
was so well constructed of clockwork, that it marched out to meet the
King, made a stand when it came before him, reared up on its hinder
legs, and opening its breast, presented an escutcheon with fleurs de
lis quartered on it[i48]. Lomazzo has said that this machine was made
for the entry of Francis the First; but he is mistaken, that prince
having never been at Milan till the year 1515[i49], at which time
Leonardo was at Rome.

Compelled by the disorders of Lombardy, the misfortunes of his patron,
and the ruin of the Sforza family, to quit Milan, Leonardo betook
himself to Florence, and his inducements to this resolution seem to
have been the residence there of the Medici family, the great patrons
of arts, and the good taste of its principal inhabitants[i50], rather
than its vicinity to the place of his birth; for which, under the
circumstances that attended that event, it is not probable he could
entertain much, if any predilection. The first work which he here
undertook was a design for an altar-piece for the chapel of the college
of the Annunciati. Its subject was, our Saviour, with his mother, St.
Ann, and St. John; but though this drawing is said to have rendered
Leonardo very popular among his countrymen, to so great a degree, that
numbers of people went to see it, it does not appear that any picture
was painted from it, nor that the undertaking ever proceeded farther
than a sketch of a design, or rather, perhaps, a finished drawing. When
Leonardo some years afterwards went into France[i51], Francis the First
was desirous of having a picture from this drawing, and at his desire
he then put it into colours; but whether even this last was a regular
picture, or, which is more probable, only a coloured drawing, we are
not informed.

The picture, however, on which he bestowed the most time and labour,
and which therefore seems intended by him as the completest specimen of
his skill, at least in the branch of portrait-painting, was that which
he did of Mona Lisa, better known by the appellation of la Gioconda, a
Florentine lady, the wife of Francisco del Giocondo. It was painted for
her husband, afterwards purchased by Francis the First, and was till
lately to be seen in the King of France's cabinet. Leonardo bestowed
four entire years upon it, and after all is said to have left it

This has been so repeatedly said of the works of this painter, that we
are here induced to inquire into the evidence of the fact. An artist
who feels by experience, as every one must, how far short of the ideas
of perfection he has formed in his own mind, his best performances
always fall, will naturally be led to consider these as but very
faint expressions of his own conceptions. Leonardo's disposition to
think nothing effected while any thing remained to be done, and a
mind like his, continually suggesting successive improvements, might
therefore, and most probably did produce in him an opinion that his own
most laboured pieces were far from being finished to that extent of
beauty which he wished to give them; and these sentiments of them he
might in all likelihood be frequently heard to declare. Comparing his
productions, however, with those of other masters, they will be found,
notwithstanding this assertion to the contrary, as eminent in this
particular also, as for the more valuable qualities of composition,
drawing, character, expression, and colouring.

About the same time with this of la Gioconda, he painted the portraits
of a nobleman of Mantua, and of la Ginevra, a daughter of Americus
Benci[i53], much celebrated for her beauty; and is said to have
finished a picture of Flora some years since remaining at Paris[i54];
but this last Mariette discovered to be the work of Melzio, from the
circumstance of finding, on a close inspection, the name of this last
master written on it[i55].

In the year 1503, he was elected by the Florentines to paint their
council-chamber. The subject he chose for this, was the battle against
Attila[i56]; and he had already made some progress in his work,
when, to his great mortification, he found his colours peel from the

With Leonardo was joined in this undertaking, Michael Angelo, who
painted another side of the room, and who, then a young man of not
more than twenty-nine, had risen to such reputation, as not to fear a
competition with Leonardo, a man of near sixty[i58]. The productions of
two such able masters placed in the same room, begun at the same time,
and proceeding gradually step by step together, afforded, no doubt,
occasion and opportunity to the admirers and critics in painting to
compare and contrast with each other their respective excellencies and
defects. Had these persons contented themselves simply with comparing
and appreciating the merits of these masters according to justice and
truth, it might perhaps have been advantageous to both, as directing
their attention to the correction of errors; but as each artist had his
admirers, each had also his enemies; the partisans of the one thinking
they did not sufficiently value the merit of their favourite if they
allowed any to his antagonist, or did not, on the contrary, endeavour
to crush by detraction the too formidable reputation of his adversary.
From this conduct was produced what might easily have been foreseen;
they first became jealous rivals, and at length open and inveterate

Leonardo's reputation, which had been for many years gradually
increasing, was now so firmly established, that he appears to have been
looked up to as being, what he really was, the reviver and restorer of
the art of painting; and to such an height had the curiosity to view
his works been excited, that Raphael, who was at that time young, and
studying, thought it worth his while to make a journey to Florence in
the month of October 1504[i60], on purpose to see them. Nor was his
labour lost, or his time thrown away in so doing; for on first seeing
the works of Leonardo's pencil, he was induced to abandon the dry and
hard manner of his master Perugino's colouring, and to adopt in its
stead the style of Leonardo[i61], to which circumstance is owing no
small portion of that esteem in the art, to which Raphael afterwards
very justly arrived.

His father having died in 1504[i62], he in consequence of that event
became engaged with his half-brothers, the legitimate sons of Pietro
da Vinci, in a law-suit for the recovery of a share of his father's
property, which in a letter from Florence to the Governor of Milan,
the date of which does not appear, he speaks of having almost brought
to a conclusion[i63]. At Florence he continued from 1503 to 1507[i64],
and in the course of that time painted, among other pictures of less
note, a Virgin and Child, once in the hands of the Botti family; and
a Baptist's head, formerly in those of Camillo Albizzi[i65]; but in
1508, and the succeeding year, he was at Milan, where he received a
pension which had been granted him by Lewis XII.[i66]; and in the
month of September 1513, he, in company with his scholar Francesco
Melzi, quitted Milan[i67], and set out for Rome (which till that
time he had never visited), encouraged perhaps to this resolution by
the circumstance that his friend Cardinal John de Medicis, who was
afterwards known by the assumed name of Leo X. had a few months before
been advanced to the papacy[i68]. His known partiality to the arts, and
the friendship which had subsisted between him and Leonardo, held out
to the latter a well-founded expectation of employment for his pencil
at Rome, and we find in this expectation he was not deceived; as, soon
after his arrival, the Pope actually signified his intention of setting
him to work. Upon this Leonardo began distilling oils for his colours,
and preparing varnishes, which the Pope hearing, said pertly and
ignorantly enough, that he could expect nothing from a man who thought
of finishing his works before he had begun them[i69]. Had the Pope
known, as he seems not to have done, that oil was the vehicle in which
the colours were to have been worked, or been witness either to the
almost annihilation of the colours in Leonardo's famous picture of the
Last Supper, owing to the damp of the wall, or to the peeling of the
colours from the wall in the council-chamber at Florence, he probably
would have spared this ill-natured reflection. If it applied at all,
it could only be to a very small part of the pursuit in which Leonardo
was occupied, namely, preparing varnish; and if age were necessary
to give the varnish strength, or it were the better for keeping, the
answer was in an equal degree both silly and impertinent; and it is no
wonder it should disgust such a mind as Leonardo's, or produce, as we
find it did, such a breach between the Pope and him, that the intended
pictures, whatever they might have been, were never begun.

Disgusted with his treatment at Rome, where the former antipathy
between him and Michael Angelo was again revived by the partisans of
each, he the next year quitted it; and accepting an invitation which
had been made him by Francis the First, he proceeded into France[i70].
At the time of this journey he is said to have been seventy years
old[i71], which cannot be correct, as he did not live to attain that
age in the whole. Probably the singularity of his appearance (for in
his latter years he permitted his beard to grow long), together with
the effect which his intense application to study had produced in his
constitution, might have given rise to an opinion that he was older
than he really was; and indeed it seems pretty clear, that when he
arrived in France he was nearly worn out in body, if not in mind,
by the anxiety and application with which he had pursued his former
studies and investigations.

Although the King's motive to this invitation, which seems to have been
a wish to profit by the pencil of Leonardo, was completely disappointed
by his ill state of health, which the fatigues of his journey and the
change of the climate produced, so that on his arrival in France no
hopes could be entertained by the King of enriching his collection
with any pictures by Leonardo; yet the French people in general, and
the King in particular, are expressly said to have been as favourable
to him as those of Rome had been injurious, and he was received by the
King in the most affectionate manner. It was however unfortunately too
soon evident that these symptoms of decay were only the forerunners of
a more fatal distemper under which for several months he languished,
but which by degrees was increasing upon him. Of this he was sensible,
and therefore in the beginning of the year 1518, he determined to make
his will, to which he afterwards added one or more codicils. By these
he first describes himself as Leonardo da Vinci, painter to the King,
at present residing at the place called Cloux, near Amboise, and then
desires to be buried in the church of St. Florentine at Amboise, and
that his body should be accompanied from the said place of Cloux to
the said church, by the college of the said church, and the chaplains
of St. Dennis of Amboise, and the friars minor of the said place; and
that before his body is carried to the said church, it should remain
three days in the chamber in which he should die, or in some other; he
further orders that three great masses and thirty lesser masses of St.
Gregory, should be celebrated there, and a like service be performed
in the church of St. Dennis, and in that of the said friars minor.
He gives and bequeaths to Franco di Melzio, a gentleman of Milan, in
return for his services, all and every the books which he the testator
has at present, and other instruments and drawings respecting his art:
To Baptista de Villanis, his servant, the moiety of the garden which
he has without the walls of Milan; and the other moiety of the said
garden to Salay his servant. He gives to the said Francesco Meltio the
arrears of his pension, and the sum of money owing to him at present,
and at the time of his death, by the treasurer M. Johan Sapin; and to
the same person all and singular his clothes and vestments. He orders
and wills, that the sum of four hundred crowns of the sum which he has
in the hands of the chamberlain of Santa Maria Nuova, at Florence,
should be given to his brethren residing at Florence, with the profit
and emolument thereon. And lastly, he appoints the said Gia. Francesco
de Meltio, whole and sole executor[i72].

This Will bears date, and appears to have been executed on the 23d of
April 1518. He however survived the making of it more than a year;
and on the 23d of April 1519[i73], the day twelvemonth on which it
had been originally made, he, though it does not appear for what
reason, re-executed it; and the next day added a codicil, by which he
gave to his servant, Gio. Battista de Villanis, the right which had
been granted him in return for his labours on the canal of Martesana,
of exacting a certain portion of all the wood transported on the

All this interval of time between the making and re-execution of his
will, and indeed the whole period from his arrival in France, he seems
to have been struggling under an incurable illness. The King frequently
during its continuance honoured him with visits; and it has been said,
that in one of these Leonardo exerting himself beyond his strength,
to shew his sense of this prince's condescension, was seized with
a fainting fit, and that the King stooping forward to support him,
Leonardo expired in his arms, on the 2d of May 1519[i75]. Venturi has
taken some pains to disprove this fact, by shewing[i76], that though in
the interval between the years 1516 and 1519, the French court passed
eleven months at different times at Amboise; yet on the 1st of May
1519, it was certainly not here, but at St. Germains. History, however,
when incorrect, is more frequently a mixture of true and false, than
a total fabrication of falsehood; and it is therefore not impossible,
or improbable, that the King might shew such an act of kindness in
some of his visits when he was resident at Amboise, and that Leonardo
might recover from that fit, and not die till some time after; at which
latter time the Court and the King might be absent at St. Germains.
This is surely a more rational supposition than to imagine such a fact
could have been invented without any foundation for it whatever.

It is impossible within the limits that can here be allowed, to do any
thing like justice to the merits of this extraordinary man: all that
can in this place be effected is to give the principal facts respecting
him; and this is all, therefore, that has been attempted. A sufficient
account, however, at least for the present purpose, it is presumed has
been given above of the Author, and the productions of his pencil, and
it now remains therefore only to speak of those of his pen.

With what view the Author engaged in this arduous course of study,
how eager he was in the pursuit of knowledge, how anxious to avail
himself of the best means of obtaining complete information on every
subject to which he applied, and how careful to minute down whatever he
procured that could be useful, have been already shewn in the course
of the foregoing narrative; but in order to prevent the necessity of
interrupting there the succession of events, it has been reserved for
this place to describe the contents and extent of his collections, and
to give a brief idea of the branches to which they relate.

On inquiry then we learn, that Leonardo's productions of this kind
consist of fourteen manuscript volumes, large and small, now in the
library of the National Institute at Paris, whither they have been
some few years since removed from the Ambrosian library at Milan;
and of one folio volume in manuscript also, in the possession of his
Majesty the King of Great Britain. Of those at Paris, J. B. Venturi,
Professor of Natural Philosophy at Modena, and of the Institute of
Bologna, &c. who was permitted to inspect them, says[i77], that "they
contain speculations in those branches of natural philosophy nearest
allied to geometry; that they are first sketches and occasional notes,
the Author always intending afterwards to compose from them complete
treatises." He adds further, "that they are written backwards from
right to left, in the manner of the oriental writers, probably with
intention that the curious should not rob him of his discoveries.
The spirit of geometry guided him throughout, whether it were in the
art of analysing a subject in the connexion of the discourse, or the
care of always generalizing his ideas. As to natural philosophy, he
never was satisfied on any proposition if he had not proved it by
experiment." From the extracts given from these manuscripts by Venturi
himself, and which he has ranged under the different heads mentioned
in the note[i78], the contents of these volumes appear to be extremely
miscellaneous; and it is evident, as Venturi has marked by references
where each extract is to be found in the original, that from the great
distance at which passages on the same subject are placed from each
other, they must have been entered without any regard to method or
arrangement of any kind whatever.

The volume in the possession of his Britannic Majesty is described as
consisting "of a variety of elegant heads, some of which are drawn
with red and black chalks on blue or red paper, others with a metal
pencil on a tinted paper; a few of them are washed and heightened with
white, and many are on common paper. The subjects of these drawings
are miscellaneous, as portraits, caricatures, single figures, tilting,
horses, and other animals; botany, optics, perspective, gunnery,
hydraulics, mechanics, and a great number of anatomical subjects, which
are drawn with a more spirited pen, and illustrated with a variety of
manuscript notes. This volume contains what is of more importance, the
very characteristic head of Leonardo, as it was sketched by himself,
and now engraved by that eminent artist Mr. Bartolozzi[i79]." Specimens
from this volume have been published some years since by Mr. Dalton,
and more recently and accurately by Mr. Chamberlaine; and though it
must be confessed, that the former are extremely ill drawn, and betray
the grossest ignorance of the effect which light and shadow were
intended to produce, yet some of the subjects which the volume contains
may be ascertained by them; and among them is also a fac simile of a
page of the original manuscript, which proves this, like the other
volumes, to be in Italian, and written backwards. The latter is a
very beautiful work, and is calculated to give an accurate idea of
Leonardo's talents as a draughtsman[i80]. From these two publications
it appears, that this volume also is of a very miscellaneous nature,
and that it consists of manuscript entries, interspersed with finished
drawings of heads and figures, and slight sketches of mechanical
engines and anatomical subjects, some of which are intermixed with the
writing itself.

It has been already seen, that these volumes were originally given by
the will of Leonardo to Francisco Melzi; and their subsequent history
we are enabled to state on the authority of John Ambrose Mazenta,
through whose hands they passed. Du Fresne, in the life prefixed to
the edition which he published in Italian, of Leonardo da Vinci's
Treatise on Painting, has, in a very loose way, and without citing
any authority, given their history; but Venturi has inserted[i81]
a translation into French, from the original manuscript memoir of
Mazenta; and from him a version of it into English is here given, with
the addition of Venturi's notes, rendered also into English.

"It is near fifty years[i82] since there fell into my hands thirteen
volumes of Leonardo da Vinci in folio and quarto, written backwards.
Accident brought them to me in the following manner: I was residing
at Pisa, for the purpose of studying the law, in the family of Aldus
Manutius the younger, a great lover of books. A person named Lelio
Gavardi, of Asola, Prevost of S. Zeno, at Pavia, a very near relation
of Aldus, came to our house; he had been a teacher of the _belles
lettres_ in the family of the Melzi of Milan, called de Vavero, to
distinguish them from other families of the same name in that city.
He had, at their country house at Vavero, met with several drawings,
instruments, and books of Leonardo. Francisco Melzi[i83] approached
nearer than any one to the manner of De Vinci; he worked little,
because he was rich; his pictures are very much finished, they are
often confounded with those of his master. At his death he left the
works of Leonardo in his house at Vavero, to his sons, who having
tastes and pursuits of a different kind, neglected these treasures,
and soon dispersed them; Lelio Gavardi possessed himself of as many of
them as he pleased; he carried thirteen volumes to Florence, in hopes
of receiving for them a good price from the Grand Duke Francis, who
was eager after works of this sort; and the rather as Leonardo was in
great reputation in his own country. But this prince died[i84] as soon
as Gavardi was arrived at Florence. He then went to Pisa, to the house
of Manutius. I could not approve his proceeding; it was scandalous.
My studies being finished, I had occasion to return to Milan. He gave
me the volumes of Vinci, desiring me to return them to the Melzi: I
acquitted myself faithfully of my commission; I carried them all back
to Horatio, the chief of the family of Melzi, who was surprised at
my being willing to give myself this trouble. He made me a present
of these books, telling me he had still many drawings by the same
author, long neglected in the garrets of his house in the country.
Thus these books became my property, and afterwards they belonged to
my brothers[i85]. These latter having made too much parade of this
acquisition, and the ease with which I was brought to it, excited the
envy of other amateurs, who beset Horatio, and obtained from him some
drawings, some figures, some anatomical pieces, and other valuable
remains of the cabinet of Leonardo. One of these spungers for the works
of Leonardo, was Pompeo Aretin, son of the Cavalier Leoni, formerly a
disciple of Bonaroti, and who was about Philip II. King of Spain, for
whom he did all the bronzes which are at the Escurial. Pompeo engaged
himself to procure for Melzi an employment to the senate of Milan,
if he succeeded in recovering the thirteen books, wishing to offer
them to King Philip, a lover of such curiosities. Flattered with this
hope, Melzi went to my brother's house: he besought him on his knees
to restore him his present; he was a fellow-collegian, a friend, a
benefactor: seven volumes were returned to him[i86]. Of the six others
which remained to the Mazenta family, one was presented to Cardinal
Frederic Borromeo, for the Ambrosian library[i87]. My brother gave a
second to Ambrose Figini, a celebrated painter of his time, who left
it to his heir Hercole Bianchi, with the rest of his cabinet. Urged by
the Duke of Savoy, I procured for him a third; and in conclusion, my
brother having died at a distance from Milan[i88], the three remaining
volumes came also into the hands of Pompeo Aretin; he re-assembled
also others of them, he separated the leaves of them to form a thick
volume[i89], which passed to his heir Polidoro Calchi, and was
afterwards sold to Galeazzo Arconati. This gentleman keeps it now in
his rich library; he has refused it to the Duke of Savoy, and to other
princes who were desirous of it."

In addition to this memoir, Venturi notices[i90], that Howard Earl
of Arundel made ineffectual efforts to obtain this large volume,
and offered for it as far as 60,000 francs, in the name of the King
of England. Arconati would never part with it; he bought eleven
other books of Da Vinci, which came also, according to appearance,
from Leoni; in 1637 he made a gift of them all to the Ambrosian
library[i91], which already was in possession of the volume E, from
Mazenta, and received afterwards the volume K from Horatio Archinto, in

Venturi says, this is the history of all the manuscripts of Vinci that
are come into France; they are in number fourteen, because the volume
B contains an appendix of eighteen leaves, which may be separated, and
considered as the fourteenth volume[i93].

In the printed catalogue of the library of Turin, one does not see
noticed the manuscript which Mazenta gave to the Duke of Savoy: it has
then disappeared. Might it not be that which an Englishman got copied
by Francis Ducci, library-keeper at Florence, and a copy of which is
still remaining in the same city[i94]?

The Trivulce family at Milan, according to Venturi[i95], possess also a
manuscript of Vinci, which is in great part only a vocabulary.

Of the volume in the possession of his Britannic Majesty, the following
account is given in the life of Leonardo, prefixed to that number
already published from it by Mr. Chamberlaine: "It was one of the three
volumes which became the property of Pompeo Leoni, that is now in his
Majesty's cabinet. It is rather probable than certain, that this great
curiosity was acquired for King Charles I. by the Earl of Arundel, when
he went Ambassador to the Emperor Ferdinand II. in 1636, as may indeed
be inferred from an instructive inscription over the place where the
volumes are kept, which sets forth, that James King of England offered
three thousand pistoles for one of the volumes of Leonardo's works. And
some documents in the Ambrosian library give colour to this conjecture.
This volume was happily preserved during the civil wars of the last
century among other specimens of the fine arts, which the munificence
of Charles I. had amassed with a diligence equal to his taste. And it
was discovered soon after his present Majesty's accession in the same
cabinet where Queen Caroline found the fine portraits of the court of
Henry VIII. by Hans Holbein, which the King's liberality permitted
me lately to lay before the public. On the cover of this volume is
written, in gold letters, what ascertains its descent; _Disegni di
Leonardo da Vinci, restaurati da Pompeo Leoni_."

Although no part of the collections of Leonardo was arranged and
prepared by himself, or others under his direction, for publication,
some extracts have been made from his writings, and given to the world
as separate tracts. The best known, and indeed the principal of these,
is the following Treatise on Painting, of which there will be occasion
to say more presently; but besides this, Edward Cooper, a London
bookseller, about the year 1720, published a fragment of a Treatise by
Leonardo da Vinci, on the Motions of the Human Body, and the Manner of
drawing Figures, according to geometrical Rules. It contains but ten
plates in folio, including the title-page, and was evidently extracted
from some of the volumes of his collections, as it consists of slight
sketches and verbal descriptions both in Italian and English, to
explain such of them as needed it.

Mr. Dalton, as has been before noticed, several years since published
some engravings from the volume in our King's collection, but they are
so badly done as to be of no value. Mr. Chamberlaine therefore, in
1796, took up the intention afresh, and in that year his first number
came out, which is all that has yet appeared.

Of the Treatise on Painting, Venturi[i96] gives the following
particulars: "The Treatise on Painting which we have of Vinci is only
a compilation of different fragments extracted from his manuscripts.
It was in the Barberini library at Rome, in 1630[i97]: the Cav. del
Pozzo obtained a copy from it, and Poussin designed the figures of it
in 1640[i98]. This copy, and another derived from the same source,
in the possession of Thevenot, served as the basis for the edition
published in 1651, by Raphael du Frêne. The manuscript of Pozzo,
with the figures of Poussin, is actually at Paris, in the valuable
collection of books of Chardin[i99]. It is from this that I have taken
the relation of Mazenta; it is at the end of the manuscript under this
title: "Some Notices of the Works of Leonardo da Vinci at Milan, and
of his Books, by J. Ambrose Mazenta of Milan, of the Congregation of
the Priests Regular of St. Paul, called the Barnabites." Mazenta does
not announce himself as the author of the compilation; he may however
be so; it may also happen, that the compilation was made by the heir
himself of Vinci, Francisco Melzo. Vasari, about 1567, says[i100], that
a painter of Milan had the manuscripts of Vinci, which were written
backwards; that this painter came to him, and afterwards went to Rome,
with intention to get them printed, but that he did not know what was
the result. However it may be, Du Frêne confesses that this compilation
is imperfect in many respects, and ill arranged. It is so, because the
compiler has not seized the methodical spirit of Vinci, and that there
are mixed with it some pieces which belong to other tracts; besides,
one has not seen where many other chapters have been neglected which
ought to make part of it. For example, the comparison of painting with
sculpture, which has been announced as a separate treatise of the same
author, is nothing more than a chapter belonging to the Treatise on
Painting, A. 105. All this will be complete, and put in order, in the
Treatise on Optics[i101]. In the mean time, however, the following are
the different editions of this compilation, such as it is at present:

"Trattato della Pittura di Leonardo da Vinci, nuovamente dato in Luce,
con la Vita dell' Autore da Raphaele du Frêne, Parigi 1651, in fol.;
reprinted at Naples in 1733, in folio; at Bologna, in 1786, in folio;
at Florence, in 1792, in 4to. This last edition has been given from a
copy in the hand-writing of Stephano della Bella.

"----Translated into French by Roland Freart de Chambray, Paris 1651,
fol. reprinted ibid. 1716, in 12mo, and 1796, in 8vo.

"----Translated into German, in 4to. Nuremberg 1786, Weigel.

"----Translated into Greek by Panagiotto, manuscript in the Nani
library at Venice.

"Another manuscript copy of this compilation was in the possession of
P. Orlandi, from whence it passed into the library of Smith[i102].

"Cellini, in a discourse published by Morelli, says[i103], that he
possessed a copy of a book of De Vinci on Perspective, which he
communicated to Serlio, and that this latter published from it all that
he could comprehend. Might not this be the tract which Gori announces
to be in the library of the Academy of Cortona[i104]?"

The reputation in which the Treatise on Painting ought to be held,
is not now for the first time to be settled; its merit has been
acknowledged by the best judges, though at that time it laboured under
great disadvantage from the want of a proper arrangement. In the
present publication that objection is removed, and the attempt has
been favourable to the work itself, as it has shewn it, by bringing
together the several chapters that related to each other, to be a
much more complete and connected treatise than was before supposed.
Notwithstanding however the fair estimation in which it has always
stood, and which is no more than its due, one person has been found
hardy enough to endeavour, though unsuccessfully, to lessen its credit:
a circumstance which it would not have been worth while to notice, if
it had not been intimated to us, that there are still some persons
in France who side with the objector, which, as he was a Frenchman,
and Leonardo an Italian, may perhaps be ascribed, in some measure at
least, to the desire which in several instances that people have lately
shewn of claiming on behalf of their countrymen, a preference over
others, to which they are not entitled. Abraham Bosse, of the city of
Tours, an engraver in copper, who lived in the last century, is the
person here alluded to; and it may not be impertinent in this place to
state some of the motives by which he was induced to such a conduct.
At the time when this Treatise first made its appearance in France,
as well in Italian as in French, Bosse appears to have been resident
at Paris, and was a member of the Academy of Painting, where he gave
the first lessons on perspective, and, with the assistance of Mons.
Desargues, published from time to time several tracts on geometry and
perspective, the manner of designing, and the art of engraving, some
of which at least are described in the title-page, as printed at Paris
for the author[i105]. This man, in his lectures, having, it is said,
attacked some of the pictures painted by Le Brun, the then Director of
the Academy, had been very deservedly removed from his situation, and
forced to quit the Academy, for endeavouring to lessen that authority,
which for the instruction and improvement of students it was necessary
the Director should possess, and attempting thus to render fruitless
the precepts which his situation required him to deliver. As this
Treatise of Leonardo had in the translation been adopted by Le Brun,
who fully saw its value, and introduced it into the Academy for the
advantage of the students, by which means the sale of Bosse's work
might be, and probably was, affected; Bosse, at the end of a Treatise
on Geometry and Perspective, taught in the Royal Academy of Painting
and Sculpture, published by him in octavo in 1665, has inserted a paper
with this title, which in the original is given in French, but we have
preferred translating it: "_What follows is for those who shall have
the curiosity to be acquainted with a part of the procedings of Mons.
Desargues, and myself, against some of our antagonists, and part of
their skill; together with some remarks made on the contents of several
chapters of a Treatise attributed to Leonardo de Vinci, translated
from Italian into French by Mons. Freart Sieur de Chambray, from a
manuscript taken from that which is in the library of the illustrious,
virtuous, and curious Mons. le Chevalier Du Puis at Rome_."

After the explanation of his motives above given, it is not wonderful
to find him asserting, that this Treatise of Leonardo was in a number
of circumstances inferior to his own; nor to observe, that in a list of
some of the chapters which he has there given, we should be frequently
told by him that they are false, absurd, ridiculous, confused,
trifling, weak, and, in short, every thing but good. It is true that
the estimation of Leonardo da Vinci was in France too high for him to
attack without risking his own character for judgment and taste, and he
has therefore found it necessary for his purpose insidiously to suggest
that these chapters were interpolations; but of this he has produced no
proof, which, had it been the fact, might have been easily obtained, by
only getting some friend to consult Leonardo's manuscript collections
in the Ambrosian library. That he would have taken this step if he
had expected any success from it, may fairly be inferred from the
circumstance of his writing to Poussin at Rome, apparently in hopes of
inducing him to say something to the disadvantage of the work; and his
omitting to make this inquiry after the enmity he has shewn against the
book, fully justifies an opinion that he forbore to inquire, because
he was conscious that such an investigation would have terminated in
vindicating his adversaries from his aspersions, and have furnished
evidence of their fidelity and accuracy.

What the letter which he wrote to Poussin contained, he has not
informed us; but he has given us, as he says, Poussin's answer[i106],
in which are some passages relating to this Treatise, of which we here
give a translation: "As to what concerns the book of Leonard Vinci, it
is true that I have designed the human figures which are in that which
Mons. le Chevalier du Puis has; but all the others, whether geometrical
or otherwise, are of one man, named Gli Alberti, the very same who has
drawn the plants which are in the book of subterraneous Rome; and the
awkward landscapes which are behind some of the little human figures of
the copy which Mons. du Chambray has caused to be printed, have been
added to it by one Errard, without my knowing any thing of it.

"All that is good in this book may be written on one sheet of paper, in
a large character, and those who believe that I approve all that is in
it, do not know me; I who profess never to give sanction to things of
my profession which I know to be ill done and ill said."

Whoever recollects the difference in the course of study pursued and
recommended by Leonardo (that of Nature), from that observed by Poussin
(that of the antique), and remembers also the different fortunes of
Le Brun and Poussin, that the one was at the head of his profession,
enjoying all its honours and emoluments, while the other, though
conscious of his own great powers, was toiling for a daily subsistence
in comparative obscurity, may easily conceive why the latter could not
approve a work which so strongly inculcates the adopting Nature as the
guide throughout; and which was at the same time patronized by one whom
he could not but consider as his more fortunate rival. It may however
be truly affirmed, that even the talents of Poussin, great as they
certainly were, and his knowledge and correctness in drawing, would
have been abundantly improved by an attention to the rules laid down
in this Treatise, and that the study of Nature would have freed his
pictures from that resemblance to statues which his figures frequently
have, and bestowed on them the soft and fleshy appearance for which
Leonardo was so remarkable; while a minute investigation of Leonardo's
system of colouring would have produced perhaps in him as fortunate a
change as we have seen it did in the case of Raphael.

Though Bosse tells us[i107], that he had seen in the hands of Mons.
Felibien, a manuscript copy of this Tract on Painting, which he said
he had taken from the same original mentioned before, for the purpose
of translating it into French; and that on Bosse's pointing out to
him some of these errors, and informing him that Mons. de Chambray
was far advanced in his translation, he abandoned his design, and
assigned to the Sieur de Chambray the privilege he had obtained for it;
we have no intention here to enumerate or answer Bosse's objections,
merely because such an undertaking would greatly exceed the limits
which can here be allowed us. Most of them will be found captious
and splenetic, and, together with the majority of the rest, might be
fully refuted by a deduction of facts; it is however sufficient on the
present occasion to say, that wherever opportunity has been afforded
of tracing the means by which Leonardo procured his materials for any
great composition, he is found to have exactly pursued the path which
he recommends to others[i108]; and for the success of his precepts, and
what may be effected by them, we need only appeal to his own example.

To this enumeration of the productions of Leonardo's pen, and in
contradiction to the fact already asserted, that no part of his
collections was ever arranged or prepared for publication by himself,
it is probable we may be told we should add tracts on Motion; on the
Equilibrium of bodies; on the nature, equilibrium, and motion of Water;
on Anatomy; on the Anatomy of an horse; on Perspective; and on Light
and Shadow: which are either mentioned by himself in the Treatise on
Painting, or ascribed to him by others. But as to these, there is great
reason for supposing, that, though they might be intended, they were
never actually drawn up into form. Certain it is, that no such have
been ever given to the world, as those before noticed are the only
treatises of this author that have yet appeared in print; and even they
have already been shewn to be no more than extracts from the immense
mass of his collections of such passages as related to the subjects on
which they profess to give intelligence. If any tracts therefore in his
name, on any of the above topics, are any where existing in manuscript,
and in obscurity, it is probable they are only similar selections. And
indeed it will be found on inspection, that his collections consist
of a multitude of entries made at different times, without method,
order, or arrangement of any kind, so as to form an immense chaos of
intelligence, which he, like many other voluminous collectors, intended
at some future time to digest and arrange, but unfortunately postponed
this task so long, that he did not live to carry that intention into
effect. Under these circumstances, should it happen, as perhaps it
may, that any volume of the whole is confined exclusively to any one
branch of science, such as hydrostatics for instance, it was not the
consequence of a designed plan, but only arose from this accident, that
he had then made that branch the object of his pursuit, and for a time
laid aside the rest. In proof of this assertion it may be observed,
that the very treatise of light and shadow above mentioned, is
described as in the Ambrosian library at Milan, and as a folio volume
covered with red velvet, presented by Signior Mazzenta to Cardinal
Borromeo[i109]; from all which circumstances it is evidently proved
to be one of the volumes now existing in France[i110], which were
inspected and described by Venturi in the tract so often cited in the
course of this life.

Although the principal of Leonardo's productions have been already
mentioned, it has been thought proper, for the satisfaction of the
curious, here to subjoin a catalogue of such of them as have come to
our knowledge; distinguishing in it such as were only drawings, from
such as were finished pictures, and noticing also which of them have
been engraven, and by whom.


                                OF THE



                         _LEONARDO DA VINCI_.


Many _designs for plans and buildings_, made by him in his youth[i111].

_A model_ made by him for raising the roof of the church of St. John,
at Florence[i112].

_The house of the family of Melzi at Vaprio_, supposed by Della Valle
to be designed by Leonardo[i113].


Some _heads of laughing women_, modelled by him in clay, in his

Some _boys' heads_ also, which appeared to have come from the hand of a

_Three figures in bronze_, over the gate on the north side of the
church of St. John, at Florence, made by Gio. Francesco Rustici, but
designed with the advice of Leonardo da Vinci[i116].

_A model in clay_, in alto relievo. It is a circle of about two palms
in diameter, and represents St. Jerom in a grotto, old, and much worn
out by prayer. It was in the possession of Sig. Ignazio Hugford, a
painter at Florence, who was induced to buy it in consequence of the
great praises which in his youth he had heard bestowed on it by the
celebrated Anton. Dominico Gabbiani, his master, who knew it to be of
the hand of Leonardo. This model appears to have been much studied in
the time of Pontormo and Rosso; and many copies of it, both drawings
and pictures, are to be found throughout Florence, well painted in
their manner[i117].

The _equestrian statue_ in memory of the Duke of Milan's father, which
was not only finished and exposed to view, but broken to pieces by the
French when they took possession of Milan. It has been said by some,
that the model only was finished, and the statue never cast, and that
it was the model only which the French destroyed[i118].

Vasari, p. 36, mentions a little _model_ by Leonardo in wax, but he
does not say what was its subject.


/Vasari/, p. 24, says, that it was Leonardo's practice to model figures
from the life, and then to cover them with fine thin lawn or cambric,
so as to be able to see through it, and with the point of a fine pencil
to trace off the outlines in black and white; and that some such
drawings he had in his collection.

_A head in chiaro oscuro_, in the possession of Vasari, and mentioned
by him as divine, a drawing on paper[i119].

_A carton of Adam and Eve in Paradise_, made by him for the King of
Portugal. It is done with a pen in chiaro oscuro, and heightened with
white, and was intended to be worked as tapestry in silk and gold; but
Vasari says it was never executed, and that in his time the carton
remained at Florence, in the house of Ottaviano de Medici. Whether this
carton is still existing is unknown[i120].

_Several ridiculous heads of men and women_, formerly in Vasari's
collection, drawn in pen and ink[i121]. Aurelio Lovino had, says
Lomazzo, a book of sketches by Leonardo, of odd and ridiculous heads.
This book appears to have contained about 250 figures of countrymen
and countrywomen laughing, drawn by the hand of Leonardo. Card. Silvio
Valenti had a similar book, in which were caricature heads drawn with a
pen, like that engraven by Count Caylus. Of these caricatures mention
is made in the second volume of the Lettere Pittoriche, p. 170[i122].
The passage in the Lettere Pittoriche here referred to, is part of a
letter without any name or date, addressed _Al Sig. C. di C._; but a
note of the editor's explains these initials, as meaning Sig. Conte
di Caylus, and supposes the author to have been the younger Mariette.
The letter mentions a collection of heads from Leonardo's drawings,
published by the Count; and the editor, in another note, tells us, that
they are caricature heads drawn in pen and ink; that the originals
were bought in Holland, from Sig. Cardin. Silvio Valenti, and that the
prints of which the letter speaks, are in the famous collection of the
Corsini library. The author of the Letter supposes these caricatures to
have been drawn when Vinci retired to Melzi's house, that he invented
them as a new sort of recreation, and intended them as a subject for
the academy which he had established at Milan.

In another part of the same Letter, p. 173, 174, this collection of
drawings of heads is again mentioned, and it is there said, that it
might be that which belonged to the Earl of Arundel. This conjecture
is founded on there being many such heads engraven formerly by Hollar.
In fact, the number of the plates which he has done from drawings of
this painter, are near one hundred, which compose different series. The
author of the Letter adds, that, if a conjecture might be permitted,
we might affirm, that this is the collection of heads of which Paul
Lomazzo speaks; at least the description which he gives of a similar
collection which was in the hands of Aurelio Lovino, a painter of
Milan, corresponds with this as well in the number of the drawings
as their subjects. It represents, like this, studies from old men,
countrymen, wrinkled old women, which are all laughing. Another part of
this Letter says, it is easy to believe that the collection of drawings
of heads which occasioned this Letter, might be one of those books in
which Leonardo noted the most singular countenances.

In p. 198 of the same Letter, Hollar's engravings are said to be about
an hundred, and to have been done at Antwerp in 1645, and the following
year; and in p. 199, Count Caylus's publication is said to contain 59
plates in aqua fortis, done in 1730, and that this latter is the work
so often mentioned in the Letter.

_Another collection of the same kind of caricature heads_ mentioned in
Mariette's Letter[i123], as existing in the cabinet of either the King
of Spain or the King of Sardinia.

_Four caricature heads_, mentioned, Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 190,
as being in the possession of Sig. Crozat. They are described as
drawn with a pen, and are said to have come originally from Vasari's
collection of drawings. Of this collection it is said, in a note on the
above passage, that it was afterwards carried into France, and fell
into the hands of a bookseller, who took the volume to pieces, and
disposed of the drawings separately, and that many of them came into
the cabinets of the King, and Sig. Crozat. Others say, and it is more
credible, that Vasari's collection passed into that of the Grand Dukes
of Medici.

_A head of Americo Vespucci_, in charcoal, but copied by Vasari in pen
and ink[i124].

_A head of an old man_, beautifully drawn in charcoal[i125].

_An head of Scarramuccia, captain of the gypsies_, in chalk; formerly
belonging to Pierfrancesco Giambullari, canon of St. Lorenzo, at
Florence, and left by him to Donato Valdambrini of Arezzo, canon of St.
Lorenzo also[i126].

_Several designs of combatants on horseback_, made by Leonardo for
Gentil Borri, a master of defence[i127], to shew the different
positions necessary for a horse soldier in defending himself, and
attacking his enemy.

_A carton of our Saviour, the Virgin, St. Ann, and St. John._ Vasari
says of this, that for two days, people of all sorts, men and women,
young and old, resorted to Leonardo's house to see this wonderful
performance, as if they had been going to a solemn feast; and adds,
that this carton was afterwards in France. It seems that this was
intended for an altar-piece for the high altar of the church of the
Annunziata, but the picture was never painted[i128]. However, when
Leonardo afterwards went into France, he, at the desire of Francis
the First, put the design into colours. Lomazzo has said, that this
carton of St. Ann was carried into France; that in his time it was at
Milan, in the possession of Aurelio Lovino, a painter; and that many
drawings from it were in existence. What was the fate this carton of
St. Ann underwent, may be seen in a letter of P. Resta, printed in the
third volume of the Lettere Pittoriche, in which he says, that Leonardo
made three of these cartons, and nevertheless did not convert it into
a picture, but that it was painted by Salai, and that the picture is
still in the sacristy of St. Celsus at Milan[i129].

_A drawing of an old man's head, seen in front_, in red chalk;
mentioned Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 191.

_A carton_ designed by him _for painting the council-chamber at
Florence_. The subject which he chose for this purpose was, the history
of Niccolo Piccinino, the Captain of Duke Philip of Milan, in which
he drew a group of men on horseback fighting for a standard[i130].
Mariette, in a note, Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 193, mentions this carton,
which he says represented two horsemen fighting for a standard; that
it was only part of a large history, the subject of which was the rout
of Niccolo Piccinino, General of the army of Philip Duke of Milan,
and that a print was engraven of it by Edelinck, when young, but the
drawing from which he worked was a bad one. In the catalogue of prints
from the works of Leonardo, inserted Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 195, this
print is again mentioned and described more truly, as representing
four horsemen fighting for a standard. It is there supposed to have
been engraven from a drawing by Fiammingo, and that this drawing might
have been made from the picture which Du Fresne speaks of as being in
his time in the possession of Sig. La Maire, an excellent painter of

_A design of Neptune drawn in his car by sea horses, attended by sea
gods_; made by him for his friend Antonio Segni[i131].

_Several anatomical drawings_ made from the life, many of which
have been since collected into a volume, by his scholar Francesco

_A book of the Anatomy of man_, mentioned by Vasari, p. 36, the
drawings for which were made with the assistance of Marc Antonio della
Torre, before noticed in the present life. It is probably the same with
the preceding.

A beautiful and well-preserved study in red and black chalk, of the
_head of a Virgin_, from which he afterwards painted a picture. This
study was at one time in the celebrated Villa de Vecchietti, but
afterwards, in consequence of a sale, passed into the hands of Sig.
Ignazio Hugford[i133].

_Two heads of women in profile_, little differing from each other,
drawn in like manner in black and red chalk, bought at the same sale
by Sig. Hugford, but now among the Elector Palatine's collection of

_A book of the Anatomy of a horse_, mentioned by Vasari, p. 36, as
a distinct work; but probably included in Leonardo's manuscript
collections. See the account before given of them.

Several designs by Leonardo were in the possession of Sig. Jabac, who
seems to have been a collector of pictures, and to have bought up for
the King of France several excellent pictures particularly by Leonardo
da Vinci[i135].

_A drawing of a young man embracing an old woman_, whom he is caressing
for the sake of her riches. This is mentioned, Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p.
198, as engraven by Hollar, in 1646.

_A head of a young man seen in profile_, engraven in aqua fortis
by Conte di Caylus, from a drawing in the King of France's

_A fragment of a Treatise on the Motions of the Human Body_, already
mentioned in the foregoing life.

In the Lettere Pittoriche, vol. ii. p. 199, mention is made of a print
representing _some intertwisted lines upon a black ground_, in the
style of some of Albert Durer's engravings in wood. In the middle of
this, in a small compartment, is to be read, "/Academia Leonardi Vin/."
Vasari, it is there said, has noticed it as a singularity.

In p. 200 of the same work, a similar print is also noticed, which
differs only in the inscription from the former. In this last it is
/Academia Leonardi Vici/. Both this and the former print are said to
be extremely rare, and only to have been seen in the King of France's
collection. It does not however appear from any thing in the Lett.
Pitt. that they were designed by Leonardo.

The Abate di Villeloin, in his Catalogue of Prints published in 1666,
speaks, under the article of Leonardo da Vinci, of a print of the
taking down from the Cross; but the Lett. Pitt. says it was engraven
from Eneas Vico, not from Leonardo[i137].

_Two drawings of monsters_, mentioned by Lomazzo, consisting of a boy's
head each, but horribly distorted by the misplacing of the features,
and the introduction of other members not in Nature to be found
there. These two drawings were in the hands of Francesco Borella, a

_A portrait_ by Leonardo, _of Artus, Maestro di Camera to Francis I._
drawn in black lead pencil[i139].

_The head of a Cæsar crowned with oak_, among a valuable collection
of drawings in a thick volume in folio, in the possession of Sig.

_The proportions of the human body._ The original of this is preserved
in the possession of Sig. Pagave. At the head and foot of this drawing
is to be read the description which begins thus: _Tanto apre l'Uomo
nelle braccia quanto è la sua altezza, &c._ and above all, at the
head of the work is the famous Last Supper, which he proposes to his
scholars as the rule of the art[i141].

_The Circumcision_, a large drawing mentioned Lett. Pitt. vol. ii.
283, as the work of Leonardo, by Nicolo Gabburri, in a letter dated
Florence, 4th Oct. 1732, and addressed _Al Sig. Pietro Mariette_.
Gabburri says he saw this drawing, and that it was done on white paper
a little tinted with Indian ink, and heightened with ceruse. Its owner
then was Alessandro Galilei, an architect of Florence.

_A drawing consisting of several laughing heads, in the middle of which
is another head in profile, crowned with oak leaves._ This drawing was
the property of the Earl of Arundel, and was engraven by Hollar in

_A man sitting, and collecting in a looking-glass the rays of the sun,
to dazzle the eyes of a dragon who is fighting with a lion._ A print of
this is spoken of, Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 197, as badly engraven by an
anonymous artist, but it is there said to have so little of Leonardo's
manner as to afford reason for believing it not designed by him, though
it might perhaps be found among his drawings in the King of France's
collection. Another print of it, of the same size, has been engraven
from the drawing by Conte de Caylus. It represents a pensive man, and
differs from the former in this respect, that in this the man is naked,
whereas in the drawing he is clothed.


_A Madonna_, formerly in the possession of Pope Clement the

_A small Madonna and Child_, painted for Baldassar Turini da Pescia,
who was the Datary[i144] at Lyons, the colours of which are much
faded[i145]. It is not known where this now is.

_A Virgin and Child_, at one time in the hands of the Botti

_The Virgin sitting in St. Ann's lap, and holding her little Son_,
formerly at Paris[i147]. This has been engraven in wood, in chiaro
oscuro, by an unknown artist. The picture was in the King of France's
cabinet, and a similar one is in the sacristy of St. Celsus at

_Another Virgin with her Son, St. John, and an Angel_, mentioned by Du
Fresne, as at Paris[i149].

_A Madonna and Child_, in the possession of the Marquis di Surdi[i150].

_A Madonna and Child_, painted on the wall in the church of St. Onofrio
at Rome[i151].

_A Madonna kneeling_, in the King's gallery in France[i152].

_An Holy Family, with St. Michael, and another Angel_, in the King of
France's collection[i153].

_A Madonna_, in the church of St. Francis at Milan, attributed to
Leonardo by Sorman[i154].

_A Virgin and Child_, by Leonardo, in Piacenza, near the church of Our
Lady in the Fields. It was bought for 300 chequins by the Principe di

_A Madonna, half length, holding on her knee the infant Jesus, with a
lily in his hand._ A print of this, engraven in aqua fortis by Giuseppe
Juster, is mentioned Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 196. The picture is there
said to have been in the possession of Charles Patin, and was supposed
by some to have been painted for Francis I.

_An Herodiade_, some time in Cardinal Richelieu's possession[i156].

_The daughter of Herodias, with an executioner holding out to her the
head of St. John_, in the Barberini palace[i157].

_An Herodiade with a basket, in which is the head of John the Baptist._
A print of this in aqua fortis, by Gio. Troven, under the direction of
Teniers, is mentioned Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 197, and is there said
to have been done from a picture which was then in the cabinet of the
Archduke Leopold, but had been before in that of the Emperor.

Another picture of the same subject, but differently disposed. It is
also an half length. A print from it, in aqua fortis, by Alessio Loyr,
is mentioned Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 197; but it is not there said in
whose possession the picture ever was.

_The angel_ in Verrochio's picture before mentioned[i158].

_The shield_, mentioned by Vasari, p. 26, as painted by him at the
request of his father, and consisting of serpents, &c.

_A head of Medusa_, in oil, in the palace of Duke Cosmo. It is still in
being, and in good preservation[i159].

_A head of an angel raising one arm in the air_, in the collection
of Duke Cosmo[i160]. Whether this is a picture, or only a drawing,
does not appear; but as Vasari does not notice any difference between
that and the head of Medusa, which he decidedly says is in oil, it is
probable that this is so also.

_The Adoration of the Magi_: it was in the house of Americo Benci,
opposite to the Portico of Peruzzi[i161].

_The famous Last Supper_, in the Refectory of the Dominican convent of
Santa Maria delle Grazie[i162]. A list of the copies made from this
celebrated picture has, together with its history, been given in a
former page. A print has been engraven from it under the direction of
Pietro Soutman; but he being a scholar of Rubens, has introduced into
it so much of Rubens's manner[i163], that it can no longer be known for
Leonardo da Vinci's. Besides this, Mariette also mentions two other
prints, one of them an engraving, the other an etching, but both by
unknown authors. He notices also, that the Count di Caylus had etched
it in aqua fortis[i164]. The print lately engraven of it by Morghen has
been already noticed in a former page.

_A Nativity_, sent as a present from the Duke of Milan to the

_The portraits of Lodovic Sforza, Duke of Milan, and Maximilian his
eldest son, and on the other side Beatrix his dutchess, and Francesco
his other son_, all in one picture, in the same Refectory with the Last

_The portraits of two of the handsomest women at Florence_, painted by
him as a present to Lewis XII[i167].

_The painting in the council-chamber at Florence_[i168]. The subject of
this is the battle of Attila[i169].

_A portrait of Ginevra_, daughter of Americo Benci[i170].

_The portrait of Mona Lisa_, the wife of Francesco del Giocondo,
painted for her husband[i171]. Lomazzo has said, she was a Neapolitan,
but this is supposed a mistake, and that she was a Florentine[i172]. In
a note of Mariette's, Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 175, this picture is said
to have been in the collection of Francis I. King of France, who gave
for it 4000 crowns.

_A small picture of a child_, which was at Pescia, in the possession of
Baldassar Turini. It is not known where this now is[i173].

_A painting of two horsemen struggling for a flag_, in the Palais Royal
at Paris[i174].

_A nobleman of Mantua_[i175].

_A picture of Flora_, which Du Fresne mentions as being in his time
at Paris. This is said to have been once in the cabinet of Mary de
Medicis[i176], and though for some time supposed to have been painted
by Leonardo da Vinci, was discovered by Mariette to have been the work
of Francisco Melzi, whose name is upon it[i177]. In the supplement to
the life of Leonardo, inserted in Della Valle's edition of Vasari, this
picture is said to have been painted for the Duke de S. Simone.

_A head of John the Baptist_, in the hands of Camillo Albizzo[i178].

_The Conception of the blessed Virgin_, for the church of St. Francis
at Milan[i179]. This was esteemed a copy, and not worth more than 30
chequins, till an Englishman came there, who thought a large sum of
money well employed in the purchase of it[i180].

_St. John in the Wilderness_, said to be at Paris[i181]. In Lett. Pitt.
vol. ii. p. 197, mention is made of a print of St. John the Baptist,
half length, by Sig. Jabac, who had the original picture, which was
formerly in the King of France's cabinet.

_Joseph and Potiphar's wife_, which Mons. de Charmois, secretary to the
Duke of Schomberg, had[i182].

_A portrait of Raphael_, in oil, in the Medici gallery. This is
mentioned in Vasari, p. 47; and though not expressly there said to be
by Leonardo, is so placed as to make it doubtful whether it was or not.

_A Nun, half length_, by Leonardo, in the possession of Abbate

_Two fine heads_, painted in oil by Leonardo, bought at Florence by
Sig. Bali di Breteuil, ambassador from Malta to Rome. One of these,
representing a woman, was in his first manner. The other, a Virgin, in
his last[i184].

_A Leda_, which Lomazzo says was at Fontainebleau, and did not yield in
colouring to the portrait of Joconda in the Duke's gallery. Richardson
says it was in the palace Mattei[i185].

_The head of a dead man_, with all its minute parts, painted by
Leonardo, formerly in the Mattei palace, but no longer there[i186].

A picture containing a study of _two most delicate female heads_, in
the Barberini palace at Rome[i187].

_A portrait of a girl with a book in her hand_, in the Strozzi palace
in Rome[i188].

_The Dispute of Jesus with the Doctors_, half length, in the Panfili

Five pictures in the Ambrosian library at Milan, the subjects not

Some in the gallery of the archbishopric at Milan, the number and
subjects equally unnoticed[i191].

One picture in the sacristy of Santa Maria, near St. Celsus at

_A small head of Christ_, while a youth, mentioned by Lomazzo. Probably
this may be the study for the picture of Jesus disputing with the
Doctors, at the Panfili palace[i193].

_St. Michael with a man kneeling_, in the King of France's

_A Bacchus_, in the same collection[i195].

_The fair Ferraia_, in the same collection[i196].

_A portrait of a lady_, there also[i197].

_A Christ with a globe in his hand_[i198]. A very fine picture, half
length, now in the possession of Richard Troward, Esq. of Pall Mall.
This was engraven by Hollar in 1650, in aqua fortis[i199].

_The Fall of Phaeton_, in the gallery of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, of
which Scannelli speaks, but it is mentioned by no one else[i200].

_St. Catherine with a palm-branch_, in the gallery of the Duke of

_The head of a young man armed_, in the same collection, very graceful,
but inferior to the St. Catherine[i202].

_A portrait of the Queen of Naples_, which was in the Aldobrandini
gallery, but afterwards to be found in a chamber of portraits in the
Panfili palace. It is not equal in colouring to the Dispute of Jesus
with the Doctors[i203].

_A portrait in profile of the Dutchess of Milan_, mentioned by
Richardson as being in a chamber leading to the Ambrosian library[i204].

_A beautiful figure of the Virgin, half length_, in the palace of
Vaprio. It is of a gigantic size, for the head of the Virgin is
six common palms in size, and that of the Divine Infant four in
circumference. Della Valle speaks of having seen this in the year 1791,
and says he is not ignorant that tradition ascribes this Madonna to
Bramante, notwithstanding which he gives it to Leonardo[i205].

_A laughing Pomona with three veils_, commended by Lomazzo. It was done
for Francis I. King of France[i206].

_The portrait of Cecilia Gallarani_, mentioned by Bellincione in one of
his sonnets, as painted by Leonardo[i207].

_Another of Lucrezia Cavelli_, a celebrated performer on the lute,
ascribed to him on the same authority. Copies of both this and the
former may be seen at Milan[i208].

_Our Saviour before Pilate_, in the church of S. Florentino, at
Amboise. It is thought that the carton only of this was Leonardo's, and
that the picture was painted by Andrea Salai, or Melzi[i209].

_A portrait of Leonardo_ by himself, half length, in the Ambrosian
library at Milan[i210]. Della Valle has inserted a copy of this before
the Supplement to Leonardo's Life, in his edition of Vasari, for
which purpose Sig. Pagave transmitted him a drawing from the original
picture. But Leonardo's own drawing for the picture itself, is in the
possession of his Britannic Majesty, and from that Mr. Chamberlaine
has prefixed to his publication before mentioned, a plate engraven by






/Chap. I./--_What the young Student in Painting ought in the first
Place to learn._

/The/ young student should, in the first place, acquire a knowledge
of perspective, to enable him to give to every object its proper
dimensions: after which, it is requisite that he be under the care of
an able master, to accustom him, by degrees, to a good style of drawing
the parts. Next, he must study Nature, in order to confirm and fix in
his mind the reason of those precepts which he has learnt. He must also
bestow some time in viewing the works of various old masters, to form
his eye and judgment, in order that he may be able to put in practice
all that he has been taught[1].

/Chap. II./--_Rule for a young Student in Painting._

/The/ organ of sight is one of the quickest, and takes in at a single
glance an infinite variety of forms; notwithstanding which, it cannot
perfectly comprehend more than one object at a time. For example, the
reader, at one look over this page, immediately perceives it full of
different characters; but he cannot at the same moment distinguish each
letter, much less can he comprehend their meaning. He must consider it
word by word, and line by line, if he be desirous of forming a just
notion of these characters. In like manner, if we wish to ascend to
the top of an edifice, we must be content to advance step by step,
otherwise we shall never be able to attain it.

A young man, who has a natural inclination to the study of this art,
I would advise to act thus: In order to acquire a true notion of the
form of things, he must begin by studying the parts which compose
them, and not pass to a second till he has well stored his memory, and
sufficiently practised the first; otherwise he loses his time, and will
most certainly protract his studies. And let him remember to acquire
accuracy before he attempts quickness.

/Chap. III./--_How to discover a young Man's Disposition for Painting._

/Many/ are very desirous of learning to draw, and are very fond of it,
who are, notwithstanding, void of a proper disposition for it. This may
be known by their want of perseverance; like boys, who draw every thing
in a hurry, never finishing, or shadowing.

/Chap. IV./--_Of Painting, and its Divisions._

/Painting/ is divided into two principal parts. The first is the figure,
that is, the lines which distinguish the forms of bodies, and their
component parts. The second is the colour contained within those limits.

/Chap. V./--_Division of the Figure._

/The/ form of bodies is divided into two parts; that is, the proportion
of the members to each other, which must correspond with the whole; and
the motion, expressive of what passes in the mind of the living figure.

/Chap. VI./--_Proportion of Members._

/The/ proportion of members is again divided into two parts, viz.
equality, and motion. By equality is meant (besides the measure
corresponding with the whole), that you do not confound the members
of a young subject with those of old age, nor plump ones with those
that are lean; and that, moreover, you do not blend the robust and firm
muscles of man with feminine softness: that the attitudes and motions
of old age be not expressed with the quickness and alacrity of youth;
nor those of a female figure like those of a vigorous young man. The
motions and members of a strong man should be such as to express his
perfect state of health.

/Chap. VII./--_Of Dimensions in general._

/In/ general, the dimensions of the human body are to be considered
in the length, and not in the breadth; because in the wonderful works
of Nature, which we endeavour to imitate, we cannot in any species
find any one part in one model precisely similar to the same part in
another. Let us be attentive, therefore, to the variation of forms,
and avoid all monstrosities of proportion; such as long legs united
to short bodies, and narrow chests with long arms. Observe also
attentively the measure of joints, in which Nature is apt to vary
considerably; and imitate her example by doing the same.

/Chap. VIII./--_Motion, Changes, and Proportion of Members._

/The/ measures of the human body vary in each member, according as it
is more or less bent, or seen in different views, increasing on one
side as much as they diminish on the other.

/Chap. IX./--_The Difference of Proportion between Children and grown

/In/ men and children I find a great difference between the joints of
the one and the other in the length of the bones. A man has the length
of two heads from the extremity of one shoulder to the other, the same
from the shoulder to the elbow, and from the elbow to the fingers; but
the child has only one, because Nature gives the proper size first to
the seat of the intellect, and afterwards to the other parts.

/Chap. X./--_The Alterations in the Proportion of the human Body from
Infancy to full Age._

/A man/, in his infancy, has the breadth of his shoulders equal to the
length of the face, and to the length of the arm from the shoulder
to the elbow, when the arm is bent[2]. It is the same again from the
lower belly to the knee, and from the knee to the foot. But, when a
man is arrived at the period of his full growth, every one of these
dimensions becomes double in length, except the face, which, with
the top of the head, undergoes but very little alteration in length.
A well-proportioned and full-grown man, therefore, is ten times the
length of his face; the breadth of his shoulders will be two faces, and
in like manner all the above lengths will be double. The rest will be
explained in the general measurement of the human body[3].

/Chap. XI./--_Of the Proportion of Members._

/All/ the parts of any animal whatever must be correspondent with
the whole. So that, if the body be short and thick, all the members
belonging to it must be the same. One that is long and thin must have
its parts of the same kind; and so of the middle size. Something of the
same may be observed in plants, when uninjured by men or tempests; for
when thus injured they bud and grow again, making young shoots from old
plants, and by those means destroying their natural symmetry.

/Chap. XII./--_That every Part be proportioned to its Whole._

/If/ a man be short and thick, be careful that all his members be
of the same nature, viz. short arms and thick, large hands, short
fingers, with broad joints; and so of the rest.

/Chap. XIII./--_Of the Proportion of the Members._

/Measure/ upon yourself the proportion of the parts, and, if you find
any of them defective, note it down, and be very careful to avoid it in
drawing your own compositions. For this is reckoned a common fault in
painters, to delight in the imitation of themselves.

/Chap. XIV./--_The Danger of forming an erroneous Judgment in regard to
the Proportion and Beauty of the Parts._

/If/ the painter has clumsy hands, he will be apt to introduce them
into his works, and so of any other part of his person, which may not
happen to be so beautiful as it ought to be. He must, therefore, guard
particularly against that self-love, or too good opinion of his own
person, and study by every means to acquire the knowledge of what is
most beautiful, and of his own defects, that he may adopt the one and
avoid the other.

/Chap. XV./--_Another Precept._

/The/ young painter must, in the first instance, accustom his hand to
copying the drawings of good masters; and when his hand is thus formed,
and ready, he should, with the advice of his director, use himself also
to draw from relievos; according to the rules we shall point out in the
treatise on drawing from relievos[4].

/Chap. XVI./--_The Manner of drawing from Relievos, and rendering Paper
fit for it._

/When/ you draw from relievos, tinge your paper of some darkish
demi-tint. And after you have made your outline, put in the darkest
shadows, and, last of all, the principal lights, but sparingly,
especially the smaller ones; because those are easily lost to the eye
at a very moderate distance[5].

/Chap. XVII./--_Of drawing from Casts or Nature._

/In/ drawing from relievo, the draftsman must place himself in such a
manner, as that the eye of the figure to be drawn be level with his

/Chap. XVIII./--_To draw Figures from Nature._

/Accustom/ yourself to hold a plummet in your hand, that you may judge
of the bearing of the parts.

/Chap. XIX./--_Of drawing from Nature._

/When/ you draw from Nature, you must be at the distance of three times
the height of the object; and when you begin to draw, form in your own
mind a certain principal line (suppose a perpendicular); observe well
the bearing of the parts towards that line; whether they intersect, are
parallel to it, or oblique.

/Chap. XX./--_Of drawing Academy Figures._

/When/ you draw from a naked model, always sketch in the whole of the
figure, suiting all the members well to each other; and though you
finish only that part which appears the best, have a regard to the
rest, that, whenever you make use of such studies, all the parts may
hang together.

In composing your attitudes, take care not to turn the head on the same
side as the breast, nor let the arm go in a line with the leg[7]. If
the head turn towards the right shoulder, the parts must be lower on
the left side than on the other; but if the chest come forward, and the
head turn towards the left, the parts on the right side are to be the

/Chap. XXI./--_Of studying in the Dark, on first waking in the Morning,
and before going to sleep._

/I have/ experienced no small benefit, when in the dark and in bed, by
retracing in my mind the outlines of those forms which I had previously
studied, particularly such as had appeared the most difficult to
comprehend and retain; by this method they will be confirmed and
treasured up in the memory.

/Chap. XXII./--_Observations on drawing Portraits._

/The/ cartilage, which raises the nose in the middle of the face,
varies in eight different ways. It is equally straight, equally
concave, or equally convex, which is the first sort. Or, secondly,
unequally straight, concave, or convex. Or, thirdly, straight in the
upper part, and concave in the under. Or, fourthly, straight again
in the upper part, and convex in those below. Or, fifthly, it may be
concave and straight beneath. Or, sixthly, concave above, and convex
below. Or, seventhly, it may be convex in the upper part, and straight
in the lower. And in the eighth and last place, convex above, and
concave beneath.

The uniting of the nose with the brows is in two ways, either it is
straight or concave. The forehead has three different forms. It is
straight, concave, or round. The first is divided into two parts, viz.
it is either convex in the upper part, or in the lower, sometimes both;
or else flat above and below.

/Chap. XXIII./--_The Method of retaining in the Memory the Likeness of
a Man, so as to draw his Profile, after having seen him only once._

/You/ must observe and remember well the variations of the four
principal features in the profile; the nose, mouth, chin, and forehead.
And first of the nose, of which there are three different sorts[8],
straight, concave, and convex. Of the straight there are but four
variations, short or long, high at the end, or low. Of the concave
there are three sorts; some have the concavity above, some in the
middle, and some at the end. The convex noses also vary three ways;
some project in the upper part, some in the middle, and others at the
bottom. Nature, which seems to delight in infinite variety, gives again
three changes to those noses which have a projection in the middle; for
some have it straight, some concave, and some convex.

/Chap. XXIV./--_How to remember the Form of a Face._

/If/ you wish to retain with facility the general look of a face, you
must first learn how to draw well several faces, mouths, eyes, noses,
chins, throats, necks, and shoulders; in short, all those principal
parts which distinguish one man from another. For instance, noses are
often different sorts[9]. Straight, bunched, concave, some raised
above, some below the middle, aquiline, flat, round, and sharp. These
affect the profile. In the front view there are eleven different sorts.
Even, thick in the middle, thin in the middle, thick at the tip, thin
at the beginning, thin at the tip, and thick at the beginning. Broad,
narrow, high, and low nostrils; some with a large opening, and some
more shut towards the tip.

The same variety will be found in the other parts of the face, which
must be drawn from Nature, and retained in the memory. Or else, when
you mean to draw a likeness from memory, take with you a pocket-book,
in which you have marked all these variations of features, and after
having given a look at the face you mean to draw, retire a little
aside, and note down in your book which of the features are similar to
it; that you may put it all together at home.

/Chap. XXV./--_That a Painter should take Pleasure in the Opinion of
every body._

/A painter/ ought not certainly to refuse listening to the opinion of
any one; for we know that, although a man be not a painter, he may have
just notions of the forms of men; whether a man has a hump on his back,
a thick leg, or a large hand; whether he be lame, or have any other
defect. Now, if we know that men are able to judge of the works of
Nature, should we not think them more able to detect our errors?


/Chap. XXVI./--_What is principally to be observed in Figures._

/The/ principal and most important consideration required in drawing
figures, is to set the head well upon the shoulders, the chest upon the
hips, the hips and shoulders upon the feet.

/Chap. XXVII./--_Mode of Studying._

/Study/ the science first, and then follow the practice which results
from that science. Pursue method in your study, and do not quit one
part till it be perfectly engraven in the memory; and observe what
difference there is between the members of animals and their joints[10].

/Chap. XXVIII./--_Of being universal._

/It/ is an easy matter for a man who is well versed in the principles
of his art, to become universal in the practice of it, since all
animals have a similarity of members, that is, muscles, tendons, bones,
&c. These only vary in length or thickness, as will be demonstrated
in the Anatomy[11]. As for aquatic animals, of which there is great
variety, I shall not persuade the painter to take them as a rule,
having no connexion with our purpose.

/Chap. XXIX./--_A Precept for the Painter._

/It/ reflects no great honour on a painter to be able to execute only
one thing well, such as a head, an academy figure, or draperies,
animals, landscape, or the like, confining himself to some particular
object of study; because there is scarcely a person so void of genius
as to fail of success, if he apply earnestly to one branch of study,
and practise it continually.

/Chap. XXX./--_Of the Measures of the human Body, and the bending of

/It/ is very necessary that painters should have a knowledge of
the bones which support the flesh by which they are covered, but
particularly of the joints, which increase and diminish the length of
them in their appearance. As in the arm, which does not measure the
same when bent, as when extended; its difference between the greatest
extension and bending, is about one eighth of its length. The increase
and diminution of the arm is effected by the bone projecting out of
its socket at the elbow; which, as is seen in figure A B, Plate I. is
lengthened from the shoulder to the elbow; the angle it forms being
less than a right angle. It will appear longer as that angle becomes
more acute, and will shorten in proportion as it becomes more open or

_Page 15_.
_Chap. 37_.
_Plate 1_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. XXXI./--_Of the small Bones in several Joints of the human Body._

/There/ are in the joints of the human body certain small bones, fixed
in the middle of the tendons which connect several of the joints. Such
are the patellas of the knees, and the joints of the shoulders, and
those of the feet. They are eight in number, one at each shoulder, one
at each knee, and two at each foot under the first joint of the great
toe towards the heel. These grow extremely hard as a man advances in

/Chap. XXXII./--_Memorandum to be observed by the Painter._

/Note/ down which muscles and tendons are brought into action by the
motion of any member, and when they are hidden. Remember that these
remarks are of the greatest importance to painters and sculptors, who
profess to study anatomy, and the science of the muscles. Do the same
with children, following the different gradations of age from their
birth even to decrepitude, describing the changes which the members,
and particularly the joints, undergo; which of them grow fat, and which

/Chap. XXXIII./--_The Shoulders._

/The/ joints of the shoulders, and other parts which bend, shall be
noticed in their places in the Treatise on Anatomy, where the cause
of the motions of all the parts which compose the human body shall be

/Chap. XXXIV./--_The Difference of Joints between Children and grown

/Young/ children have all their joints small, but they are thick and
plump in the spaces between them; because there is nothing upon the
bones at the joints, but some tendons to bind the bones together. The
soft flesh, which is full of fluids, is enclosed under the skin in the
space between the joints; and as the bones are bigger at the joints
than in the space between them, the skin throws off in the progress to
manhood that superfluity, and draws nearer to the bones, thinning the
whole part together. But upon the joints it does not lessen, as there
is nothing but cartilages and tendons. For these reasons children are
small in the joints, and plump in the space between, as may be observed
in their fingers, arms, and narrow shoulders. Men, on the contrary, are
large and full in the joints, in the arms and legs; and where children
have hollows, men are knotty and prominent.

/Chap. XXXV./--_Of the Joints of the Fingers._

/The/ joints of the fingers appear larger on all sides when they
bend; the more they bend the larger they appear. The contrary is the
case when straight. It is the same in the toes, and it will be more
perceptible in proportion to their fleshiness.

/Chap. XXXVI./--_Of the Joint of the Wrist._

/The/ wrist or joint between the hand and arm lessens on closing the
hand, and grows larger when it opens. The contrary happens in the arm,
in the space between the elbow and the hand, on all sides; because in
opening the hand the muscles are extended and thinned in the arm, from
the elbow to the wrist; but when the hand is shut, the same muscles
swell and shorten. The tendons alone start, being stretched by the
clenching of the hand.

/Chap. XXXVII./--_Of the Joint of the Foot._

/The/ increase and diminution in the joint of the foot is produced
on that side where the tendons are seen, as D E F, _Plate I._ which
increases when the angle is acute, and diminishes when it becomes
obtuse. It must be understood of the joint in the front part of the
foot A B C.

/Chap. XXXVIII./--_Of the Knee._

/Of/ all the members which have pliable joints, the knee is the only
one that lessens in the bending, and becomes larger by extension.

/Chap. XXXIX./--_Of the Joints._

/All/ the joints of the human body become larger by bending, except
that of the leg.

/Chap. XL./--_Of the Naked._

/When/ a figure is to appear nimble and delicate, its muscles must
never be too much marked, nor are any of them to be much swelled.
Because such figures are expressive of activity and swiftness, and are
never loaded with much flesh upon the bones. They are made light by the
want of flesh, and where there is but little flesh there cannot be any
thickness of muscles.

/Chap. XLI./--_Of the Thickness of the Muscles._

/Muscular/ men have large bones, and are in general thick and short,
with very little fat; because the fleshy muscles in their growth
contract closer together, and the fat, which in other instances lodges
between them, has no room. The muscles in such thin subjects, not being
able to extend, grow in thickness, particularly towards their middle,
in the parts most removed from the extremities.

/Chap. XLII./--_Fat Subjects have small Muscles._

/Though/ fat people have this in common with muscular men, that they
are frequently short and thick, they have thin muscles; but their skin
contains a great deal of spongy and soft flesh full of air; for that
reason they are lighter upon the water, and swim better than muscular

/Chap. XLIII./--_Which of the Muscles disappear in the different
Motions of the Body._

/In/ raising or lowering the arm, the pectoral muscles disappear, or
acquire a greater relievo. A similar effect is produced by the hips,
when they bend either inwards or outwards. It is to be observed, that
there is more variety of appearances in the shoulders, hips, and neck,
than in any other joint, because they are susceptible of the greatest
variety of motions. But of this subject I shall make a separate

/Chap. XLIV./--_Of the Muscles._

/The/ muscles are not to be scrupulously marked all the way, because it
would be disagreeable to the sight, and of very difficult execution.
But on that side only where the members are in action, they should
be pronounced more strongly; for muscles that are at work naturally
collect all their parts together, to gain increase of strength, so
that some small parts of those muscles will appear, that were not seen

/Chap. XLV./--_Of the Muscles._

/The/ muscles of young men are not to be marked strongly, nor too much
swelled, because that would indicate full strength and vigour of age,
which they have not yet attained. Nevertheless they must be more or
less expressed, as they are more or less employed. For those which are
in motion are always more swelled and thicker than those which remain
at rest. The intrinsic and central line of the members which are bent,
never retains its natural length.

/Chap. XLVI./--_The Extension and Contraction of the Muscles._

/The/ muscle at the back part of the thigh shows more variety in
its extension and contraction, than any other in the human body; the
second, in that respect, are those which compose the buttocks; the
third, those of the back; the fourth, those of the neck; the fifth,
those of the shoulders; and the sixth, those of the Abdomen, which,
taking their rise under the breast, terminate under the lower belly; as
I shall explain when I speak of each.

/Chap. XLVII./--_Of the Muscle between the Chest and the lower Belly._

/There/ is a muscle which begins under the breast at the Sternum, and
is inserted into, or terminates at the Os pubis, under the lower belly.
It is called the Rectus of the Abdomen; it is divided, lengthways,
into three principal portions, by transverse tendinous intersections
or ligaments, viz. the superior part, and a ligament; the second part,
with its ligaments; and the third part, with the third ligament;
which last unites by tendons to the Os pubis. These divisions and
intersections of the same muscle are intended by nature to facilitate
the motion when the body is bent or distended. If it were made of one
piece, it would produce too much variety when extended, or contracted,
and also would be considerably weaker. When this muscle has but little
variety in the motion of the body, it is more beautiful[14].

/Chap. XLVIII./--_Of a Man's complex Strength, but first of the Arm._

/The/ muscles which serve either to straighten or bend the arm, arise
from the different processes of the Scapula; some of them from the
protuberances of the Humerus, and others about the middle of the Os
humeri. The extensors of the arm arise from behind, and the flexors
from before.

That a man has more power in pulling than in pushing, has been proved
by the ninth proposition De Ponderibus[15], where it is said, that of
two equal weights, that will have the greatest power which is farthest
removed from the pole or centre of its balance. It follows then of
course, that the muscle N B, _Plate II._ and the muscle N C, being of
equal power, the inner muscle N C, will nevertheless be stronger than
the outward one N B, because it is inserted into the arm at C, a point
farther removed from the centre of the elbow A, than B, which is on
the other side of such centre, so that that question is determined.
But this is a simple power, and I thought it best to explain it before
I mentioned the complex power of the muscles, of which I must now
take notice. The complex power, or strength, is, for instance, this,
when the arm is going to act, a second power is added to it (such as
the weight of the body and the strength of the legs, in pulling or
pushing), consisting in the extension of the parts, as when two men
attempt to throw down a column; the one by pushing, and the other by

/Chap. XLIX./--_In which of the two Actions, Pulling or Pushing, a Man
has the greatest Power_, Plate II.

/A man/ has the greatest power in pulling, for in that action he has
the united exertion of all the muscles of the arm, while some of them
must be inactive when he is pushing; because when the arm is extended
for that purpose, the muscles which move the elbow cannot act, any
more than if he pushed with his shoulders against the column he means
to throw down; in which case only the muscles that extend the back,
the legs under the thigh, and the calves of the legs, would be active.
From which we conclude, that in pulling there is added to the power
of extension the strength of the arms, of the legs, of the back, and
even of the chest, if the oblique motion of the body require it. But
in pushing, though all the parts were employed, yet the strength of
the muscles of the arms is wanting; for to push with an extended arm
without motion does not help more than if a piece of wood were placed
from the shoulder to the column meant to be pushed down.

_Page 22_.
_Chap. 48, 49_.
_Plate 2_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. L./--_Of the bending of Members, and of the Flesh round the
bending Joint._

/The/ flesh which covers the bones near and at the joints, swells or
diminishes in thickness according to their bending or extension; that
is, it increases at the inside of the angle formed by the bending, and
grows narrow and lengthened on the outward side of the exterior angle.
The middle between the convex and concave angle participates of this
increase or diminution, but in a greater or less degree as the parts
are nearer to, or farther from, the angles of the bending joints.

/Chap. LI./--_Of the naked Body._

/The/ members of naked men who work hard in different attitudes, will
shew the muscles more strongly on that side where they act forcibly to
bring the part into action; and the other muscles will be more or less
marked, in proportion as they co-operate in the same motion.

/Chap. LII./--_Of a Ligament without Muscles._

/Where/ the arm joins with the hand, there is a ligament, the largest
in the human body, which is without muscles, and is called the strong
ligament of the Carpus; it has a square shape, and serves to bind
and keep close together the bones of the arm, and the tendons of the
fingers, and prevent their dilating, or starting out.

/Chap. LIII./--_Of Creases._

/In/ bending the joints the flesh will always form a crease on the
opposite side to that where it is tight.

/Chap. LIV./--_How near behind the Back one Arm can be brought to the
other_, Plate III. and IV.

/When/ the arms are carried behind the back, the elbows can never be
brought nearer than the length from the elbow to the end of the longest
finger; so that the fingers will not be seen beyond the elbows, and
in that situation, the arms with the shoulders form a perfect square.
The greatest extension of the arm across the chest is, when the elbow
comes over the pit of the stomach; the elbow and the shoulder in this
position, will form an equilateral triangle.

/Chap. LV./--_Of the Muscles._

/A naked/ figure being strongly marked, so as to give a distinct view
of all the muscles, will not express any motion; because it cannot
move, if some of its muscles do not relax while the others are pulling.
Those which relax cease to appear in proportion as the others pull
strongly and become apparent.

_Page 24_.
_Chap. 54_.
_Plate 3_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 24_.
_Chap. 53_.
_Plate 4_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LVI./--_Of the Muscles._

/The/ muscles of the human body are to be more or less marked according
to their degree of action. Those only which act are to be shewn, and
the more forcibly they act, the stronger they should be pronounced.
Those that do not act at all must remain soft and flat.

/Chap. LVII./--_Of the Bending of the Body._

/The/ bodies of men diminish as much on the side which bends, as they
increase on the opposite side. That diminution may at last become
double, in proportion to the extension on the other side. But of this I
shall make a separate treatise[17].

/Chap. LVIII./--_The same Subject._

/The/ body which bends, lengthens as much on one side as it shortens
on the other; but the central line between them will never lessen or

/Chap. LIX./--_The Necessity of anatomical Knowledge._

/The/ painter who has obtained a perfect knowledge of the nature of the
tendons and muscles, and of those parts which contain the most of them,
will know to a certainty, in giving a particular motion to any part of
the body, which, and how many of the muscles give rise and contribute
to it; which of them, by swelling, occasion their shortening, and which
of the cartilages they surround.

He will not imitate those who, in all the different attitudes they
adopt, or invent, make use of the same muscles, in the arms, back, or
chest, or any other parts.


/Chap. LX./--_Of the Equipoise of a Figure standing still._

/The/ non-existence of motion in any animal resting on its feet, is
owing to the equality of weight distributed on each side of the line of

/Chap. LXI./--_Motion produced by the Loss of Equilibrium._

/Motion/ is created by the loss of due equipoise, that is, by
inequality of weight; for nothing can move of itself, without losing
its centre of gravity, and the farther that is removed, the quicker and
stronger will be the motion.

_Page 27_.
_Chap. 62_.
_Plate 5_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXII./--_Of the Equipoise of Bodies_, Plate V.

/The/ balance or equipoise of parts in the human body is of two sorts,
viz. simple, and complex. Simple, when a man stands upon his feet
without motion: in that situation, if he extends his arms at different
distances from the middle, or stoop, the centre of his weight will
always be in a perpendicular line upon the centre of that foot which
supports the body; and if he rests equally upon both feet, then the
middle of the chest will be perpendicular to the middle of the line
which measures the space between the centres of his feet.

The complex balance is, when a man carries a weight not his own, which
he bears by different motions; as in the figure of Hercules stifling
Anteus, by pressing him against his breast with his arms, after he has
lifted him from the ground. He must have as much of his own weight
thrown behind the central line of his feet, as the weight of Anteus
adds before.

/Chap. LXIII./--_Of Positions._

/The/ pit of the neck, between the two Clavicles, falls perpendicularly
with the foot which bears the weight of the body. If one of the arms be
thrown forwards, this pit will quit that perpendicular; and if one of
the legs goes back, that pit is brought forwards, and so changes its
situation at every change of posture.

/Chap. LXIV./--_Of balancing the Weight round the Centre of Gravity in

/A figure/ standing upon its feet without motion, will form an
equipoise of all its members round the centre of its support.

If this figure without motion, and resting upon its feet, happens to
move one of its arms forwards, it must necessarily throw as much of its
weight on the opposite side, as is equal to that of the extended arm
and the accidental weight. And the same I say of every part, which is
brought out beyond its usual balance.

/Chap. LXV./--_Of Figures that have to lift up, or carry any Weight._

/A weight/ can never be lifted up or carried by any man, if he do not
throw more than an equal weight of his own on the opposite side.

/Chap. LXVI./--_The Equilibrium of a Man standing upon his Feet_, Plate

/The/ weight of a man resting upon one leg will always be equally
divided on each side of the central or perpendicular line of gravity,
which supports him.

/Chap. LXVII./--_Of Walking_, Plate VII.

/A man/ walking will always have the centre of gravity over the centre
of the leg which rests upon the ground.

_Page 28_.
_Chap. 66_.
_Plate 6_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 28_.
_Chap. 67_.
_Plate 7_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXVIII./--_Of the Centre of Gravity in Men and Animals._

/The/ legs, or centre of support, in men and animals, will approach
nearer to the centre of gravity, in proportion to the slowness of their
motion; and, on the contrary, when the motion is quicker, they will be
farther removed from that perpendicular line.

/Chap. LXIX./--_Of the corresponding Thickness of Parts on each Side of
the Body._

/The/ thickness or breadth of the parts in the human body will never be
equal on each side, if the corresponding members do not move equally
and alike.

/Chap. LXX./--_Of the Motions of Animals._

/All/ bipeds in their motions lower the part immediately over the foot
that is raised, more than over that resting on the ground, and the
highest parts do just the contrary. This is observable in the hips and
shoulders of a man when he walks; and also in birds in the head and

/Chap. LXXI./--_Of Quadrupeds and their Motions._

/The/ highest parts of quadrupeds are susceptible of more variation
when they walk, than when they are still, in a greater or less degree,
in proportion to their size. This proceeds from the oblique position of
their legs when they touch the ground, which raise the animal when they
become straight and perpendicular upon the ground.

/Chap. LXXII./--_Of the Quickness or Slowness of Motion._

/The/ motion performed by a man, or any other animal whatever, in
walking, will have more or less velocity as the centre of their weight
is more or less removed from the centre of that foot upon which they
are supported.

/Chap. LXXIII./--_Of the Motion of Animals._

/That/ figure will appear the swiftest in its course which leans the
most forwards.

Any body, moving of itself, will do it with more or less velocity
in proportion as the centre of its gravity is more or less removed
from the centre of its support. This is mentioned chiefly in regard
to the motion of birds, which, without any clapping of their wings,
or assistance of wind, move themselves. This happens when the centre
of their gravity is out of the centre of their support, viz. out of
its usual residence, the middle between the two wings. Because, if
the middle of the wings be more backward than the centre of the whole
weight, the bird will move forwards and downwards, in a greater or
less degree as the centre of its weight is more or less removed from
the middle of its wings. From which it follows, that if the centre of
gravity be far removed from the other centre, the descent of the bird
will be very oblique; but if that centre be near the middle of the
wings, the descent will have very little obliquity.

_Page 31_.
_Chap. 74_.
_Plate 8_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXXIV./--_Of a Figure moving against the Wind_, Plate VIII.

/A man/ moving against the wind in any direction does not keep his
centre of gravity duly disposed upon the centre of support[18].

/Chap. LXXV./--_Of the Balance of a Figure resting upon its Feet._

/The/ man who rests upon his feet, either bears the weight of his body
upon them equally, or unequally. If equally, it will be with some
accidental weight, or simply with his own; if it be with an additional
weight, the opposite extremities of his members will not be equally
distant from the perpendicular of his feet. But if he simply carries
his own weight, the opposite extremities will be equally distant from
the perpendicular of his feet: and on this subject of gravity I shall
write a separate book[19].

/Chap. LXXVI./--_A Precept._

/The/ navel is always in the central or middle line of the body, which
passes through the pit of the stomach to that of the neck, and must
have as much weight, either accidental or natural, on one side of the
human figure as on the other. This is demonstrated by extending the
arm, the wrist of which performs the office of a weight at the end of
a steelyard; and will require some weight to be thrown on the other
side of the navel, to counterbalance that of the wrist. It is on that
account that the heel is often raised.

/Chap. LXXVII./--_Of a Man standing, but resting more upon one Foot
than the other._

/After/ a man, by standing long, has tired the leg upon which he
rests, he sends part of his weight upon the other leg. But this kind
of posture is to be employed only for old age, infancy, or extreme
lassitude, because it expresses weariness, or very little power in the
limbs. For that reason, a young man, strong and healthy, will always
rest upon one of his legs, and if he removes a little of his weight
upon the other, it is only a necessary preparative to motion, without
which it is impossible to move; as we have proved before, that motion
proceeds from inequality[20].

/Chap. LXXVIII./--_Of the Balance of Figures_, Plate IX.

/If/ the figure rests upon one foot, the shoulder on that side will
always be lower than the other; and the pit of the neck will fall
perpendicularly over the middle of that leg which supports the body.
The same will happen in whatever other view we see that figure, when it
has not the arm much extended, nor any weight on its back, in its hand,
or on its shoulder, and when it does not, either behind or before,
throw out that leg which does not support the body.

_Page 32_.
_Chap. 78_.
_Plate 9_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 33_.
_Chap. 80_.
_Plate 10_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXXIX./--_In what Manner extending one Arm alters the Balance._

/The/ extending of the arm, which was bent, removes the weight of the
figure upon the foot which bears the weight of the whole body: as is
observable in rope-dancers, who dance upon the rope with their arms
open, without any pole.

/Chap. LXXX./--_Of a Man bearing a Weight on his Shoulders_, Plate X.

/The/ shoulder which bears the weight is always higher than the other.
This is seen in the figure opposite, in which the centre line passes
through the whole, with an equal weight on each side, to the leg on
which it rests. If the weight were not equally divided on each side
of this central line of gravity, the whole would fall to the ground.
But Nature has provided, that as much of the natural weight of the man
should be thrown on one side, as of accidental weight on the other,
to form a counterpoise. This is effected by the man's bending, and
leaning on the side not loaded, so as to form an equilibrium to the
accidental weight he carries; and this cannot be done, unless the
loaded shoulder be raised, and the other lowered. This is the resource
with which Nature has furnished a man on such occasions.

/Chap. LXXXI./--_Of Equilibrium._

/Any/ figure bearing an additional weight out of the central line, must
throw as much natural or accidental weight on the opposite side as is
sufficient to form a counterpoise round that line, which passes from
the pit of the neck, through the whole mass of weight, to that part
of the foot which rests upon the ground. We observe, that when a man
lifts a weight with one arm, he naturally throws out the opposite arm;
and if that be not enough to form an equipoise, he will add as much of
his own weight, by bending his body, as will enable him to resist such
accidental load. We see also, that a man ready to fall sideways and
backwards at the same time, always throws out the arm on the opposite

/Chap. LXXXII./--_Of Motion._

/Whether/ a man moves with velocity or slowness, the parts above the
leg which sustains the weight, will always be lower than the others on
the opposite side.

/Chap. LXXXIII./--_The Level of the Shoulders._

/The/ shoulders or sides of a man, or any other animal, will preserve
less of their level, in proportion to the slowness of their motion;
and, _vice versâ_, those parts will lose less of their level when the
motion is quicker. This is proved by the ninth proposition, treating of
local motions, where it is said, any weight will press in the direction
of the line of its motion; therefore the whole moving towards any one
point, the parts belonging to it will follow the shortest line of the
motion of its whole, without giving any of its weight to the collateral
parts of the whole.

_Page 35_.
_Chap. 84_.
_Plate 11_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 35_.
_Chap. 84_.
_Plate 12_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 35_.
_Chap. 85_.
_Plate 13_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXXXIV./--_Objection to the above answered_, Plate XI. and XII.

/It/ has been objected, in regard to the first part of the above
proposition, that it does not follow that a man standing still, or
moving slowly, has his members always in perfect balance upon the
centre of gravity; because we do not find that Nature always follows
that rule, but, on the contrary, the figure will sometimes bend
sideways, standing upon one foot; sometimes it will rest part of its
weight upon that leg which is bent at the knee, as is seen in the
figures B C. But I shall reply thus, that what is not performed by the
shoulders in the figure C, is done by the hip, as is demonstrated in
another place.

/Chap. LXXXV./--_Of the Position of Figures_, Plate XIII.

/In/ the same proportion as that part of the naked figure marked D A,
lessens in height from the shoulder to the hip, on account of its
position the opposite side increases. And this is the reason: the
figure resting upon one (suppose the left) foot, that foot becomes the
centre of all the weight above; and the pit of the neck, formed by the
junction of the two Clavicles, quits also its natural situation at the
upper extremity of the perpendicular line (which passes through the
middle surface of the body), to bend over the same foot; and as this
line bends with it, it forces the transverse lines, which are always at
right angles, to lower their extremities on that side where the foot
rests, as appears in A B C. The navel and middle parts always preserve
their natural height.

/Chap. LXXXVI./--_Of the Joints._

/In/ the bending of the joints it is particularly useful to observe the
difference and variety of shape they assume; how the muscles swell on
one side, while they flatten on the other; and this is more apparent in
the neck, because the motion of it is of three sorts, two of which are
simple motions, and the other complex, participating also of the other

The simple motions are, first, when the neck bends towards the
shoulder, either to the right or left, and when it raises or lowers
the head. The second is, when it twists to the right or left, without
rising or bending, but straight, with the head turned towards one of
the shoulders. The third motion, which is called complex, is, when to
the bending of it is added the twisting, as when the ear leans towards
one of the shoulders, the head turning the same way, and the face
turned upwards.

/Chap. LXXXVII./--_Of the Shoulders._

/Of/ those which the shoulders can perform, simple motions are the
principal, such as moving the arm upwards and downwards, backwards and
forwards. Though one might almost call those motions infinite, for if
the arm can trace a circle upon a wall, it will have performed all the
motions belonging to the shoulders. Every continued quantity being
divisible _ad infinitum_, and this circle being a continued quantity,
produced by the motion of the arm going through every part of the
circumference, it follows, that the motions of the shoulders may also be
said to be infinite.

_Page 37_.
_Chap. 89_.
_Plate 14_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. LXXXVIII./--_Of the Motions of a Man._

/When/ you mean to represent a man removing a weight, consider that the
motions are various, viz. either a simple motion, by bending himself
to raise the weight from the ground upwards, or when he drags the
weight after him, or pushes it before him, or pulls it down with a rope
passing through a pulley. It is to be observed, that the weight of the
man's body pulls the more in proportion as the centre of his gravity
is removed from the centre of his support. To this must be added the
strength of the effort that the legs and back make when they are bent,
to return to their natural straight situation.

A man never ascends or descends, nor walks at all in any direction,
without raising the heel of the back foot.

/Chap. LXXXIX./--_Of the Disposition of Members preparing to act with
great Force_, Plate XIV.

/When/ a man prepares himself to strike a violent blow, he bends and
twists his body as far as he can to the side contrary to that which
he means to strike, and collecting all his strength, he, by a complex
motion, returns and falls upon the point he has in view[21].

/Chap. XC./--_Of throwing any Thing with Violence_, Plate XV.

/A man/ throwing a dart, a stone, or any thing else with violence,
may be represented, chiefly, two different ways; that is, he may be
preparing to do it, or the act may be already performed. If you mean to
place him in the act of preparation, the inside of the foot upon which
he rests will be under the perpendicular line of the pit of the neck;
and if it be the right foot, the left shoulder will be perpendicular
over the toes of the same foot.

/Chap. XCI./--_On the Motion of driving any Thing into or drawing it
out of the Ground._

/He/ who wishes to pitch a pole into the ground, or draw one out of it,
will raise the leg and bend the knee opposite to the arm which acts,
in order to balance himself upon the foot that rests, without which he
could neither drive in, nor pull out any thing.

/Chap. XCII./--_Of forcible Motions_, Plate XVI.

/Of/ the two arms, that will be most powerful in its effort, which,
having been farthest removed from its natural situation, is assisted
more strongly by the other parts to bring it to the place where it
means to go. As the man A, who moves the arm with a club E, and brings
it to the opposite side B, assisted by the motion of the whole body.

_Page 38_.
_Chap. 90_.
_Plate 15_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 39_.
_Chap. 92_.
_Plate 16_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. XCIII./--_The Action of Jumping._

/Nature/ will of itself, and without any reasoning in the mind of a man
going to jump, prompt him to raise his arms and shoulders by a sudden
motion, together with a great part of his body, and to lift them up
high, till the power of the effort subsides. This impetuous motion
is accompanied by an instantaneous extension of the body which had
bent itself, like a spring or bow, along the back, the joints of the
thighs, knees, and feet, and is let off obliquely, that is, upwards
and forwards; so that the disposition of the body tending forwards
and upwards, makes it describe a great arch when it springs up, which
increases the leap.

/Chap. XCIV./--_Of the three Motions in jumping upwards._

/When/ a man jumps upwards, the motion of the head is three times
quicker than that of the heel, before the extremity of the foot quits
the ground, and twice as quick as that of the hips; because three
angles are opened and extended at the same time: the superior one is
that formed by the body at its joint with the thigh before, the second
is at the joint of the thighs and legs behind, and the third is at the
instep before[22].

/Chap. XCV./--_Of the easy Motions of Members._

/In/ regard to the freedom and ease of motions, it is very necessary
to observe, that when you mean to represent a figure which has to turn
itself a little round, the feet and all the other members are not to
move in the same direction as the head. But you will divide that motion
among four joints, viz. the feet, the knees, the hips, and the neck.
If it rests upon the right leg, the left knee should be a little bent
inward, with its foot somewhat raised outward. The left shoulder should
be lower than the other, and the nape of the neck turned on the same
side as the outward ankle of the left foot, and the left shoulder
perpendicular over the great toe of the right foot. And take it as a
general maxim, that figures do not turn their heads straight with the
chest, Nature having for our convenience formed the neck so as to turn
with ease on every side, when the eyes want to look round; and to this
the other joints are in some measure subservient. If the figure be
sitting, and the arms have some employment across the body, the breast
will turn over the joint of the hip.

_Page 41_.
_Chap. 96_.
_Plate 17_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. XCVI./--_The greatest Twist which a Man can make, in turning to
look at himself behind._ Plate XVII.

/The/ greatest twist that the body can perform is when the back of
the heels and the front of the face are seen at the same time. It is
not done without difficulty, and is effected by bending the leg and
lowering the shoulder on that side towards which the head turns. The
cause of this motion, and also which of the muscles move first and
which last, I shall explain in my treatise on anatomy[23].

/Chap. XCVII./--_Of turning the Leg without the Thigh._

/It/ is impossible to turn the leg inwards or outwards without turning
the thigh by the same motion, because the setting in of the bones at
the knee is such, that they have no motion but backwards and forwards,
and no more than is necessary for walking or kneeling; never sideways,
because the form of the bones at the joint of the knee does not allow
it. If this joint had been made pliable on all sides, as that of the
shoulder, or that of the thigh bone with the hip, a man would have
had his legs bent on each side as often as backwards and forwards,
and seldom or never straight with the thigh. Besides, this joint can
bend only one way, so that in walking it can never go beyond the
straight line of the leg; it bends only forwards, for if it could bend
backwards, a man could never get up again upon his feet, if once he
were kneeling; as when he means to get up from the kneeling posture (on
both knees), he gives the whole weight of his body to one of the knees
to support, unloading the other, which at that time feels no other
weight than its own, and therefore is lifted up with ease, and rests
his foot flat upon the ground; then returning the whole weight upon
that foot, and leaning his hand upon his knee, he at once extends the
other arm, raises his head, and straightening the thigh with the body,
he springs up, and rests upon the same foot, while he brings up the

/Chap. XCVIII./--_Postures of Figures._

/Figures/ that are set in a fixed attitude, are nevertheless to have
some contrast of parts. If one arm come before, the other remains
still or goes behind. If the figure rest upon one leg, the shoulder on
that side will be lower than the other. This is observed by artists
of judgment, who always take care to balance the figure well upon its
feet, for fear it should appear to fall. Because by resting upon one
foot, the other leg, being a little bent, does not support the body any
more than if it were dead; therefore it is necessary that the parts
above that leg should transfer the centre of their weight upon the leg
which supports the body.

/Chap. XCIX./--_Of the Gracefulness of the Members._

/The/ members are to be suited to the body in graceful motions,
expressive of the meaning which the figure is intended to convey.
If it had to give the idea of genteel and agreeable carriage, the
members must be slender and well turned, but not lean; the muscles very
slightly marked, indicating in a soft manner such as must necessarily
appear; the arms, particularly, pliant, and no member in a straight
line with any other adjoining member. If it happen, on account of the
motion of the figure, that the right hip be higher than the left, make
the joint of the shoulder fall perpendicularly on the highest part of
that hip; and let that right shoulder be lower than the left. The pit
of the neck will always be perpendicular over the middle of the instep
of the foot that supports the body. The leg that does not bear will
have its knee a little lower than the other, and near the other leg.

In regard to the positions of the head and arms, they are infinite, and
for that reason I shall not enter into any detailed rule concerning
them; suffice it to say, that they are to be easy and free, graceful,
and varied in their bendings, so that they may not appear stiff like
pieces of wood.

/Chap. C./--_That it is impossible for any Memory to retain the Aspects
and Changes of the Members._

/It/ is impossible that any memory can be able to retain all the
aspects or motions of any member of any animal whatever. This case
we shall exemplify by the appearance of the hand. And because any
continued quantity is divisible _ad infinitum_, the motion of the eye
which looks at the hand, and moves from A to B, moves by a space A B,
which is also a continued quantity, and consequently divisible _ad
infinitum_, and in every part of the motion varies to its view the
aspect and figure of the hand; and so it will do if it move round the
whole circle. The same will the hand do which is raised in its motion,
that is, it will pass over a space, which is a continued quantity[24].


/Chap. CI./--_The Motions of Figures._

/Never/ put the head straight upon the shoulders, but a little turned
sideways to the right or left, even though the figures should be
looking up or down, or straight, because it is necessary to give them
some motion of life and spirit. Nor ever compose a figure in such
a manner, either in a front or back view, as that every part falls
straight upon another from the top to the bottom. But if you wish to
introduce such a figure, use it for old age. Never repeat the same
motion of arms, or of legs, not only not in the same figure, but in
those which are standing by, or near; if the necessity of the case,
or the expression of the subject you represent, do not oblige you to

/Chap. CII./--_Of common Motions._

/The/ variety of motions in man are equal to the variety of accidents
or thoughts affecting the mind, and each of these thoughts, or
accidents, will operate more or less, according to the temper and age
of the subject; for the same cause will in the actions of youth, or of
old age, produce very different effects.

/Chap. CIII./--_Of simple Motions._

/Simple/ motion is that which a man performs in merely bending
backwards or forwards.

/Chap. CIV./--_Complex Motion._

/Complex/ motion is that which, to produce some particular action,
requires the body to bend downwards and sideways at the same time. The
painter must be careful in his compositions to apply these complex
motions according to the nature of the subject, and not to weaken or
destroy the effect of it by introducing figures with simple motions,
without any connexion with the subject.

/Chap. CV./--_Motions appropriated to the Subject._

/The/ motions of your figures are to be expressive of the quantity of
strength requisite to the force of the action. Let not the same effort
be used to take up a stick as would easily raise a piece of timber.
Therefore shew great variety in the expression of strength, according
to the quality of the load to be managed.

/Chap. CVI./--_Appropriate Motions._

/There/ are some emotions of the mind which are not expressed by any
particular motion of the body, while in others, the expression cannot
be shewn without it. In the first, the arms fall down, the hands and
all the other parts, which in general are the most active, remain at
rest. But such emotions of the soul as produce bodily action, must put
the members into such motions as are appropriated to the intention of
the mind. This, however, is an ample subject, and we have a great deal
to say upon it. There is a third kind of motion, which participates
of the two already described; and a fourth, which depends neither on
the one nor the other. This last belongs to insensibility, or fury,
and should be ranked with madness or stupidity; and so adapted only to
grotesque or Moresco work.

/Chap. CVII./--_Of the Postures of Women and young People._

/It/ is not becoming in women and young people to have their legs
too much asunder, because it denotes boldness; while the legs close
together shew modesty.

/Chap. CVIII./--_Of the Postures of Children._

/Children/ and old people are not to express quick motions, in what
concerns their legs.

/Chap. CIX./--_Of the Motion of the Members._

/Let/ every member be employed in performing its proper functions. For
instance, in a dead body, or one asleep, no member should appear alive
or awake. A foot bearing the weight of the whole body, should not be
playing its toes up and down, but flat upon the ground; except when it
rests entirely upon the heel.

/Chap. CX./--_Of mental Motions._

/A mere/ thought, or operation of the mind, excites only simple and
easy motions of the body; not this way, and that way, because its
object is in the mind, which does not affect the senses when it is
collected within itself.

/Chap. CXI./--_Effect of the Mind upon the Motions of the Body,
occasioned by some outward Object._

/When/ the motion is produced by the presence of some object, either
the cause is immediate or not. If it be immediate, the figure will
first turn towards it the organs most necessary, the eyes; leaving its
feet in the same place; and will only move the thighs, hips, and knees
a little towards the same side, to which the eyes are directed.


/Chap. CXII./--_Of those who apply themselves to the Practice, without
having learnt the Theory of the Art._

/Those/ who become enamoured of the practice of the art, without having
previously applied to the diligent study of the scientific part of it,
may be compared to mariners, who put to sea in a ship without rudder or
compass, and therefore cannot be certain of arriving at the wished-for

Practice must always be founded on good theory; to this, Perspective is
the guide and entrance, without which nothing can be well done.

/Chap. CXIII./--_Precepts in Painting._

/Perspective/ is to Painting what the bridle is to a horse, and the
rudder to a ship.

The size of a figure should denote the distance at which it is situated.

If a figure be seen of the natural size, remember that it denotes its
being near to the eye.

/Chap. CXIV./--_Of the Boundaries of Objects called Outlines or

/The/ outlines or contours of bodies are so little perceivable, that
at any small distance between that and the object, the eye will not be
able to recognise the features of a friend or relation, if it were not
for their clothes and general appearance. So that by the knowledge of
the whole it comes to know the parts.

/Chap. CXV./--_Of linear Perspective._

/Linear/ Perspective consists in giving, by established rules, the true
dimensions of objects, according to their respective distances; so that
the second object be less than the first, the third than the second,
and by degrees at last they become invisible. I find by experience,
that, if the second object be at the same distance from the first, as
the first is from the eye, though they be of the same size, the second
will appear half the size of the first; and, if the third be at the
same distance behind the second, it will diminish two thirds; and so
on, by degrees, they will, at equal distances, diminish in proportion;
provided that the interval be not more than twenty cubits[26]; at
which distance it will lose two fourths of its size: at forty it will
diminish three fourths; and at sixty it will lose five sixths, and so
on progressively. But you must be distant from your picture twice the
size of it; for, if you be only once the size, it will make a great
difference in the measure from the first to the second.

/Chap. CXVI./--_What Parts of Objects disappear first by Distance._

/Those/ parts which are of less magnitude will first vanish from the
sight[27]. This happens, because the shape of small objects, at an
equal distance, comes to the eye under a more acute angle than the
large ones, and the perception of them is less, in proportion as they
are less in magnitude. It follows then, that if the large objects, by
being removed to a great distance, and consequently coming to the eye
by a small angle, are almost lost to the sight, the small objects will
entirely disappear.

/Chap. CXVII./--_Of remote Objects._

/The/ outlines of objects will be less seen, in proportion as they are
more distant from the eye.

/Chap. CXVIII./--_Of the Point of Sight._

/The/ point of sight must be on a level with the eyes of a common-sized
man, and placed upon the horizon, which is the line formed by a flat
country terminating with the sky. An exception must be made as to
mountains, which are above that line.

/Chap. CXIX./--_A Picture is to be viewed from one Point only._

/This/ will be proved by one single example. If you mean to represent
a round ball very high up, on a flat and perpendicular wall, it will
be necessary to make it oblong, like the shape of an egg, and to place
yourself (that is, the eye, or point of view) so far back, as that its
outline or circumference may appear round.

/Chap. CXX./--_Of the Dimensions of the first Figure in an historical

/The/ first figure in your picture will be less than Nature, in
proportion as it recedes from the front of the picture, or the bottom
line; and by the same rule the others behind it will go on lessening in
an equal degree[28].

/Chap. CXXI./--_Of Objects that are lost to the Sight in Proportion to
their Distance._

/The/ first things that disappear, by being removed to some distance,
are the outlines or boundaries of objects. The second, as they remove
farther, are the shadows which divide contiguous bodies. The third
are the thickness of legs and feet; and so in succession the small
parts are lost to the sight, till nothing remains but a confused mass,
without any distinct parts.

/Chap. CXXII./--_Errors not so easily seen in small Objects as in large

/Supposing/ this small object to represent a man, or any other animal,
although the parts, by being so much diminished or reduced, cannot be
executed with the same exactness of proportion, nor finished with the
same accuracy, as if on a larger scale, yet on that very account the
faults will be less conspicuous. For example, if you look at a man at
the distance of two hundred yards, and with all due attention mean to
form a judgment, whether he be handsome or ugly, deformed or well made,
you will find that, with all your endeavours, you can hardly venture
to decide. The reason is, that the man diminishes so much by the
distance, that it is impossible to distinguish the parts minutely. If
you wish to know by demonstration the diminution of the above figure,
hold your finger up before your eye at about nine inches distance, so
that the top of your finger corresponds with the top of the head of
the distant figure: you will perceive that your finger covers, not
only its head, but part of its body; which is an evident proof of the
apparent diminution of that object. Hence it often happens, that we are
doubtful, and can scarcely, at some distance, distinguish the form of
even a friend.

/Chap. CXXIII./--_Historical Subjects one above another on the same
Wall to be avoided._

/This/ custom, which has been generally adopted by painters, on the
front and sides of chapels, is much to be condemned. They begin with an
historical picture, its landscape and buildings, in one compartment.
After which, they raise another compartment, and execute another
history with other buildings upon another level; and from thence they
proceed to a third and fourth, varying the point of sight, as if the
beholder was going up steps, while, in fact, he must look at them all
from below, which is very ill judged in those matters.

We know that the point of sight is the eye of the spectator; and if
you ask, how is a series of subjects, such as the life of a saint, to
be represented, in different compartments on the same wall? I answer,
that you are to place the principal event in the largest compartment,
and make the point of sight as high as the eye of the spectator. Begin
that subject with large figures; and as you go up, lessen the objects,
as well the figures, as buildings, varying the plans according to the
effect of perspective; but never varying the point of sight: and so
complete the series of subjects, till you come to a certain height,
where terrestrial objects can be seen no more, except the tops of
trees, or clouds and birds; or if you introduce figures, they must be
aerial, such as angels, or saints in glory, or the like, if they suit
the purpose of your history. If not, do not undertake this kind of
painting, for your work will be faulty, and justly reprehensible[29].

/Chap. CXXIV./--_Why Objects in Painting can never detach, as natural
Objects do._

/Painters/ often despair of being able to imitate Nature, from
observing, that their pictures have not the same relief, nor the same
life, as natural objects have in a looking-glass, though they both
appear upon a plain surface. They say, they have colours which surpass
in brightness the quality of the lights, and in darkness the quality of
the shades of the objects seen in the looking-glass; but attribute this
circumstance to their own ignorance, and not to the true cause, because
they do not know it. It is impossible that objects in painting should
appear with the same relief as those in the looking-glass, unless we
look at them with only one eye.

The reason is this. The two eyes A B looking at objects one behind
another, as M and N, see them both; because M cannot entirely occupy
the space of N, by reason that the base of the visual rays is so broad,
that the second object is seen behind the first. But if one eye be
shut, and you look with the other S, the body F will entirely cover
the body R, because the visual rays beginning at one point, form a
triangle, of which the body F is the base, and being prolonged, they
form two diverging tangents at the two extremities of F, which cannot
touch the body R behind it, therefore can never see it[30].


/Chap. CXXV./--_How to give the proper Dimension to Objects in


/In/ order to give the appearance of the natural size, if the piece
be small (as miniatures), the figures on the fore-ground are to be
finished with as much precision as those of any large painting, because
being small they are to be brought up close to the eye. But large
paintings are seen at some distance; whence it happens, that though
the figures in each are so different in size, in appearance they will
be the same. This proceeds from the eye receiving those objects under
the same angle; and it is proved thus. Let the large painting be B C,
the eye A, and D E a pane of glass, through which are seen the figures
situated at B C. I say that the eye being fixed, the figures in the
copy of the paintings B C are to be smaller, in proportion as the glass
D E is nearer the eye A, and are to be as precise and finished. But if
you will execute the picture B C upon the glass D E, this ought to be
less finished than the picture B C, and more so than the figure M N
transferred upon the glass F G; because, supposing the figure P O to
be as much finished as the natural one in B C, the perspective of O P
would be false, since, though in regard to the diminution of the figure
it would be right, B C being diminished in P O, the finishing would not
agree with the distance, because in giving it the perfection of the
natural B C, B C would appear as near as O P; but, if you search for
the diminution of O P, O P will be found at the distance B C, and the
diminution of the finishing as at F G.

/Chap. CXXVI./--_How to draw accurately any particular Spot._

/Take/ a glass as large as your paper, fasten it well between your eye
and the object you mean to draw, and fixing your head in a frame (in
such a manner as not to be able to move it) at the distance of two
feet from the glass; shut one eye, and draw with a pencil accurately
upon the glass all that you see through it. After that, trace upon
paper what you have drawn on the glass, which tracing you may paint at
pleasure, observing the aerial perspective.

/Chap. CXXVII./--_Disproportion to be avoided, even in the accessory

/A great/ fault is committed by many painters, which is highly to be
blamed, that is, to represent the habitations of men, and other parts
of their compositions, so low, that the doors do not reach as high as
the knees of their inhabitants, though, according to their situation,
they are nearer to the eye of the spectator, than the men who seem
willing to enter them. I have seen some pictures with porticos,
supported by columns loaded with figures; one grasping a column against
which it leans, as if it were a walking-stick, and other similar
errors, which are to be avoided with the greatest care.


/Chap. CXXVIII./--_Precept for avoiding a bad Choice in the Style or
Proportion of Figures._

/The/ painter ought to form his style upon the most proportionate
model in Nature; and after having measured that, he ought to measure
himself also, and be perfectly acquainted with his own defects or
deficiencies; and having acquired this knowledge, his constant care
should be to avoid conveying into his work those defects which he has
found in his own person; for these defects, becoming habitual to his
observation, mislead his judgment, and he perceives them no longer. We
ought, therefore, to struggle against such a prejudice, which grows
up with us; for the mind, being fond of its own habitation, is apt to
represent it to our imagination as beautiful. From the same motive it
may be, that there is not a woman, however plain in her person, who may
not find her admirer, if she be not a monster. Against this bent of the
mind you ought very cautiously to be on your guard.

/Chap. CXXIX./--_Variety in Figures._

/A painter/ ought to aim at universal excellence; for he will be
greatly wanting in dignity, if he do one thing well and another badly,
as many do, who study only the naked figure, measured and proportioned
by a pair of compasses in their hands, and do not seek for variety. A
man may be well proportioned, and yet be tall or short, large or lean,
or of a middle size; and whoever does not make great use of these
varieties, which are all existing in Nature in its most perfect state,
will produce figures as if cast in one and the same mould, which is
highly reprehensible.

/Chap. CXXX./--_How a Painter ought to proceed in his Studies._

/The/ painter ought always to form in his mind a kind of system of
reasoning or discussion within himself on any remarkable object
before him. He should stop, take notes, and form some rule upon it;
considering the place, the circumstances, the lights and shadows.

/Chap. CXXXI./--_Of sketching Histories and Figures._

/Sketches/ of historical subjects must be slight, attending only to the
situation of the figures, without regard to the finishing of particular
members, which may be done afterwards at leisure, when the mind is so

/Chap. CXXXII./--_How to study Composition._

/The/ young student should begin by sketching slightly some single
figure, and turn that on all sides, knowing already how to contract,
and how to extend the members; after which, he may put two together in
various attitudes, we will suppose in the act of fighting boldly. This
composition also he must try on all sides, and in a variety of ways,
tending to the same expression. Then he may imagine one of them very
courageous, while the other is a coward. Let these attitudes, and many
other accidental affections of the mind, be with great care studied,
examined, and dwelt upon.

/Chap. CXXXIII./--_Of the Attitudes of Men._

/The/ attitudes and all the members are to be disposed in such
a manner, that by them the intentions of the mind may be easily

/Chap. CXXXIV./--_Variety of Positions._

/The/ positions of the human figure are to be adapted to the age and
rank; and to be varied according to the difference of the sexes, men or

/Chap. CXXXV./--_Of Studies from Nature for History._

/It/ is necessary to consider well the situation for which the history
is to be painted, particularly the height; and let the painter place
accordingly the model, from which he means to make his studies for that
historical picture; and set himself as much below the object, as the
picture is to be above the eye of the spectator, otherwise the work
will be faulty.

/Chap. CXXXVI./--_Of the Variety of Figures in History Painting._

/History/ painting must exhibit variety in its fullest extent. In
temper, size, complexion, actions, plumpness, leanness, thick, thin,
large, small, rough, smooth, old age and youth, strong and muscular,
weak, with little appearance of muscles, cheerfulness and melancholy.
Some should be with curled hair, and some with straight; some short,
some long, some quick in their motions, and some slow, with a variety
of dresses and colours, according as the subject may require.

/Chap. CXXXVII./--_Of Variety in History._

/A painter/ should delight in introducing great variety into his
compositions, avoiding repetition, that by this fertility of invention
he may attract and charm the eye of the beholder. If it be requisite
according to the subject meant to be represented, that there should be
a mixture of men differing in their faces, ages, and dress, grouped
with women, children, dogs, and horses, buildings, hills and flat
country; observe dignity and decorum in the principal figure; such
as a king, magistrate, or philosopher, separating them from the low
classes of the people. Mix not afflicted or weeping figures with joyful
and laughing ones; for Nature dictates that the cheerful be attended
by others of the same disposition of mind. Laughter is productive of
laughter, and _vice versâ_.

/Chap. CXXXVIII./--_Of the Age of Figures._

/Do/ not bring together a number of boys with as many old men, nor
young men with infants, nor women with men; if the subject you mean to
represent does not oblige you to it.

/Chap. CXXXIX./--_Of Variety of Faces._

/The/ Italian painters have been accused of a common fault, that is,
of introducing into their compositions the faces, and even the whole
figures, of Roman emperors, which they take from the antique. To
avoid such an error, let no repetition take place, either in parts,
or the whole of a figure; nor let there be even the same face in
another composition: and the more the figures are contrasted, viz. the
deformed opposed to the beautiful, the old to the young, the strong
to the feeble, the more the picture will please and be admired. These
different characters, contrasted with each other, will increase the
beauty of the whole.

It frequently happens that a painter, while he is composing, will use
any little sketch or scrap of drawing he has by him, and endeavour to
make it serve his purpose; but this is extremely injudicious, because
he may very often find that the members he has drawn have not the
motion suited to what he means to express; and after he has adopted,
accurately drawn, and even well finished them, he will be loth to rub
out and change them for others.

/Chap. CXL./--_A Fault in Painters._

/It/ is a very great fault in a painter to repeat the same motions in
figures, and the same folds in draperies in the same composition, as
also to make all the faces alike.

/Chap. CXLI./--_How you may learn to compose Groups for History

/When/ you are well instructed in perspective, and know perfectly how
to draw the anatomy and forms of different bodies or objects, it should
be your delight to observe and consider in your walks the different
actions of men, when they are talking, or quarrelling; when they laugh,
and when they fight. Attend to their positions, and to those of the
spectators; whether they are attempting to separate those who fight,
or merely lookers-on. Be quick in sketching these with slight strokes
in your pocket-book, which should always be about you, and made of
stained paper, as you ought not to rub out. When it is full, take
another, for these are not things to be rubbed out, but kept with the
greatest care; because forms and motions of bodies are so infinitely
various, that the memory is not able to retain them; therefore preserve
these sketches as your assistants and masters.

/Chap. CXLII./--_How to study the Motions of the human Body._

/The/ first requisite towards a perfect acquaintance with the various
motions of the human body, is the knowledge of all the parts,
particularly the joints, in all the attitudes in which it may be
placed. Then make slight sketches in your pocket-book, as opportunities
occur, of the actions of men, as they happen to meet your eye, without
being perceived by them; because, if they were to observe you, they
would be disturbed from that freedom of action, which is prompted by
inward feeling; as when two men are quarrelling and angry, each of
them seeming to be in the right, and with great vehemence move their
eyebrows, arms, and all the other members, using motions appropriated
to their words and feelings. This they could not do, if you wanted them
to imitate anger, or any other accidental emotion; such as laughter,
weeping, pain, admiration, fear, and the like. For that reason, take
care never to be without a little book, for the purpose of sketching
those various motions, and also groups of people standing by. This
will teach you how to compose history. Two things demand the principal
attention of a good painter. One is the exact outline and shape of the
figure; the other, the true expression of what passes in the mind of
that figure, which he must feel, and that is very important.

/Chap. CXLIII./--_Of Dresses, and of Draperies and Folds._

/The/ draperies with which you dress figures ought to have their
folds so accommodated as to surround the parts they are intended to
cover; that in the mass of light there be not any dark fold, and in
the mass of shadows none receiving too great a light. They must go
gently over, describing the parts; but not with lines across, cutting
the members with hard notches, deeper than the part can possibly
be; at the same time, it must fit the body, and not appear like an
empty bundle of cloth; a fault of many painters, who, enamoured of
the quantity and variety of folds, have encumbered their figures,
forgetting the intention of clothes, which is to dress and surround the
parts gracefully wherever they touch; and not to be filled with wind,
like bladders, puffed up where the parts project. I do not deny that
we ought not to neglect introducing some handsome folds among these
draperies, but it must be done with great judgment, and suited to the
parts, where, by the actions of the limbs and position of the whole
body, they gather together. Above all, be careful to vary the quality
and quantity of your folds in compositions of many figures; so that,
if some have large folds, produced by thick woollen cloth; others,
being dressed in thinner stuff, may have them narrower; some sharp and
straight, others soft and undulating.

/Chap. CXLIV./--_Of the Nature of Folds in Draperies._

/Many/ painters prefer making the folds of their draperies with acute
angles, deep and precise; others with angles hardly perceptible; and
some with none at all; but instead of them, certain curved lines.

/Chap. CXLV./--_How the Folds of Draperies ought to be represented_,
Plate XVIII.

/That/ part of the drapery, which is the farthest from the place where
it is gathered, will appear more approaching its natural state. Every
thing naturally inclines to preserve its primitive form. Therefore a
stuff or cloth, which is of equal thickness on both sides, will always
incline to remain flat. For that reason, when it is constrained by some
fold to relinquish its flat situation, it is observed that, at the part
of its greatest restraint, it is continually making efforts to return
to its natural shape; and the parts most distant from it reassume more
of their primitive state by ample and distended folds. For example, let
A B C be the drapery mentioned above; A B the place where it is folded
or restrained. I have said that the part, which is farthest from the
place of its restraint, would return more towards its primitive shape.
Therefore C being the farthest, will be broader and more extended than
any other part.

_Page 68_.
_Chap. 145_.
_Plate 18_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 69_.
_Chap. 147_.
_Plate 19_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. CXLVI./--_How the Folds in Draperies ought to be made._

/Draperies/ are not to be encumbered with many folds: on the contrary,
there ought to be some only where they are held up with the hands or
arms of the figures, and the rest left to fall with natural simplicity.
They ought to be studied from Nature; that is to say, if a woollen
cloth be intended, the folds ought to be drawn after such cloth; if it
be of silk, or thin stuff, or else very thick for labourers, let it
be distinguished by the nature of the folds. But never copy them, as
some do, after models dressed in paper, or thin leather, for it greatly

/Chap. CXLVII./--_Fore-shortening of Folds_, Plate XIX.

/Where/ the figure is fore-shortened, there ought to appear a greater
number of folds, than on the other parts, all surrounding it in a
circular manner. Let E be the situation of the eye. M N will have the
middle of every circular fold successively removed farther from its
outline, in proportion as it is more distant from the eye. In M O of
the other figure the outlines of these circular folds will appear
almost straight, because it is situated opposite the eye; but in P and
Q quite the contrary, as in N and M.

/Chap. CXLVIII./--_Of Folds._

/The/ folds of draperies, whatever be the motion of the figure, ought
always to shew, by the form of their outlines, the attitude of such
figure; so as to leave, in the mind of the beholder, no doubt or
confusion in regard to the true position of the body; and let there be
no fold, which, by its shadow, breaks through any of the members; that
is to say, appearing to go in deeper than the surface of the part it
covers. And if you represent the figure clothed with several garments,
one over the other, let it not appear as if the upper one covered only
a mere skeleton; but let it express that it is also well furnished with
flesh, and a thickness of folds, suitable to the number of its under

The folds surrounding the members ought to diminish in thickness near
the extremities of the part they surround.

The length of the folds, which are close to the members, ought to
produce other folds on that side where the member is diminished by
fore-shortening, and be more extended on the opposite side.

/Chap. CXLIX./--_Of Decorum._

/Observe/ decorum in every thing you represent, that is, fitness of
action, dress, and situation, according to the dignity or meanness of
the subject to be represented. Be careful that a king, for instance,
be grave and majestic in his countenance and dress; that the place be
well decorated; and that his attendants, or the by-standers, express
reverence and admiration, and appear as noble, in dresses suitable to a
royal court.

On the contrary, in the representation of a mean subject, let the
figures appear low and despicable; those about them with similar
countenances, and actions, denoting base and presumptuous minds, and
meanly clad. In short, in both cases, the parts must correspond with
the general sentiment of the composition.

The motions of old age should not be similar to those of youth; those
of a woman to those of a man; nor should the latter be the same as
those of a boy.

/Chap. CL./--_The Character of Figures in Composition._

/In/ general, the painter ought to introduce very few old men, in the
ordinary course of historical subjects, and those few separated from
young people; because old people are few, and their habits do not agree
with those of youth. Where there is no conformity of custom, there can
be no intimacy, and, without it, a company is soon separated. But if
the subject require an appearance of gravity, a meeting on important
business, as a council, for instance, let there be few young men
introduced, for youth willingly avoids such meetings.

/Chap. CLI./--_The Motion of the Muscles, when the Figures are in
natural Positions._

/A figure/, which does not express by its position the sentiments and
passions, by which we suppose it animated, will appear to indicate
that its muscles are not obedient to its will, and the painter very
deficient in judgment. For that reason, a figure is to shew great
eagerness and meaning; and its position is to be so well appropriated
to that meaning, that it cannot be mistaken, nor made use of for any

/Chap. CLII./--_A Precept in Painting._

/The/ painter ought to notice those quick motions, which men are apt to
make without thinking, when impelled by strong and powerful affections
of the mind. He ought to take memorandums of them, and sketch them in
his pocket-book, in order to make use of them when they may answer his
purpose; and then to put a living model in the same position, to see
the quality and aspect of the muscles which are in action.

/Chap. CLIII./--_Of the Motion of Man_, Plates XX. and XXI.

/The/ first and principal part of the art is composition of any sort,
or putting things together. The second relates to the expression and
motion of the figures, and requires that they be well appropriated,
and seeming attentive to what they are about; appearing to move with
alacrity and spirit, according to the degree of expression suitable
to the occasion; expressing slow and tardy motions, as well as those
of eagerness in pursuit: and that quickness and ferocity be expressed
with such force as to give an idea of the sensations of the actors.
When a figure is to throw a dart, stones, or the like, let it be
seen evidently by the attitude and disposition of all the members,
that such is its intention; of which there are two examples in the
opposite plates, varied both in action and power. The first in point
of vigour is A. The second is B. But A will throw his weapon farther
than B, because, though they seem desirous of throwing it to the same
point, A having turned his feet towards the object, while his body is
twisted and bent back the contrary way, to increase his power, returns
with more velocity and force to the point to which he means to throw.
But the figure B having turned his feet the same way as his body,
it returns to its place with great inconvenience, and consequently
with weakened powers. For in the expression of great efforts, the
preparatory motions of the body must be strong and violent, twisting
and bending, so that it may return with convenient ease, and by that
means have a great effect. In the same manner, if a cross-bow be not
strung with force, the motion of whatever it shoots will be short and
without effect; because, where there is no impulse, there can be no
motion; and if the impulse be not violent, the motion is but tardy
and feeble. So a bow, which is not strong, has no motion; and, if it
be strung, it will remain in that state till the impulse be given
by another power which puts it in motion, and it will shoot with a
violence equal to that which was employed in bending it. In the same
manner, the man who does not twist and bend his body will have acquired
no power. Therefore, after A has thrown his dart, he will find himself
twisted the contrary way, viz. on the side where he has thrown; and
he will have acquired only power sufficient to serve him to return to
where he was at first.

_Page 72_.
_Chap. 153_.
_Plate 20_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

_Page 72_.
_Chap. 153_.
_Plate 21_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. CLIV./--_Of Attitudes, and the Motions of the Members._

/The/ same attitude is not to be repeated in the same picture, nor the
same motion of members in the same figure, nay, not even in the hands
or fingers. And if the history requires a great number of figures, such
as a battle, or a massacre of soldiers, in which there are but three
ways of striking, viz. thrusting, cutting, or back-handed; in that
case you must take care, that all those who are cutting be expressed
in different views; some turning their backs, some their sides, and
others be seen in front; varying in the same manner the three different
ways of fighting, so that all the actions may have a relation to those
three principles. In battles, complex motions display great art, giving
spirit and animation to the whole. By complex motion is meant, for
instance, that of a single figure shewing the front of the legs, and at
the same time the profile of the shoulder. But of this I shall treat in
another place[31].

/Chap. CLV./--_Of a single Figure separate from an historical Group._

/The/ same motion of members should not be repeated in a figure which
you mean to be alone; for instance, if the figure be represented
running, it must not throw both hands forward; but one forward and the
other backward, or else it cannot run. If the right foot come forward,
the right arm must go backward and the left forward, because, without
such disposition and contraste of parts, it is impossible to run well.
If another figure be supposed to follow this, one of its legs should
be brought somewhat forward, and the other be perpendicular under the
head; the arm on the same side should pass forward. But of this we
shall treat more fully in the book on motion[32].

/Chap. CLVI./--_On the Attitudes of the human Figure._

/A painter/ is to be attentive to the motions and actions of men,
occasioned by some sudden accident. He must observe them on the spot,
take sketches, and not wait till he wants such expression, and then
have it counterfeited for him; for instance, setting a model to weep
when there is no cause; such an expression without a cause will be
neither quick nor natural. But it will be of great use to have observed
every action from nature, as it occurs, and then to have a model set in
the same attitude to help the recollection, and find out something to
the purpose, according to the subject in hand.

/Chap. CLVII./--_How to represent a Storm._

/To/ form a just idea of a storm, you must consider it attentively in
its effects. When the wind blows violently over the sea or land, it
removes and carries off with it every thing that is not firmly fixed
to the general mass. The clouds must appear straggling and broken,
carried according to the direction and the force of the wind, and
blended with clouds of dust raised from the sandy shore. Branches and
leaves of trees must be represented as carried along by the violence
of the storm, and, together with numberless other light substances,
scattered in the air. Trees and grass must be bent to the ground, as if
yielding to the course of the wind. Boughs must be twisted out of their
natural form, with their leaves reversed and entangled. Of the figures
dispersed in the picture, some should appear thrown on the ground, so
wrapped up in their cloaks and covered with dust, as to be scarcely
distinguishable. Of those who remain on their feet, some should be
sheltered by and holding fast behind some great trees, to avoid the
same fate: others bending to the ground, their hands over their faces
to ward off the dust; their hair and their clothes flying straight up
at the mercy of the wind.

The high tremendous waves of the stormy sea will be covered with
foaming froth; the most subtle parts of which, being raised by the
wind, like a thick mist, mix with the air. What vessels are seen should
appear with broken cordage, and torn sails, fluttering in the wind;
some with broken masts fallen across the hulk, already on its side
amidst the tempestuous waves. Some of the crew should be represented as
if crying aloud for help, and clinging to the remains of the shattered
vessel. Let the clouds appear as driven by tempestuous winds against
the summits of lofty mountains, enveloping those mountains, and
breaking and recoiling with redoubled force, like waves against a rocky
shore. The air should be rendered awfully dark, by the mist, dust, and
thick clouds.

/Chap. CLVIII./--_How to compose a Battle._

/First/, let the air exhibit a confused mixture of smoke, arising from
the discharge of artillery and musquetry, and the dust raised by the
horses of the combatants; and observe, that dust being of an earthy
nature, is heavy; but yet, by reason of its minute particles, it is
easily impelled upwards, and mixes with the air; nevertheless, it
naturally falls downwards again, the most subtle parts of it alone
gaining any considerable degree of elevation, and at its utmost height
it is so thin and transparent, as to appear nearly of the colour of
the air. The smoke, thus mixing with the dusty air, forms a kind of
dark cloud, at the top of which it is distinguished from the dust by a
blueish cast, the dust retaining more of its natural colour. On that
part from which the light proceeds, this mixture of air, smoke, and
dust, will appear much brighter than on the opposite side. The more the
combatants are involved in this turbulent mist, the less distinctly
they will be seen, and the more confused will they be in their lights
and shades. Let the faces of the musketeers, their bodies, and every
object near them, be tinged with a reddish hue, even the air or cloud
of dust; in short, all that surrounds them. This red tinge you will
diminish, in proportion to their distance, from the primary cause. The
groups of figures, which appear at a distance between the spectator
and the light, will form a dark mass upon a light ground; and their
legs will be more undetermined and lost as they approach nearer to the
ground; because there the dust is heavier and thicker.

If you mean to represent some straggling horses, running out of the
main body, introduce also some small clouds of dust, as far distant
from each other as the leap of the horse, and these little clouds will
become fainter, more scanty, and diffused, in proportion to their
distance from the horse. That nearest to his feet will consequently be
the most determined, smallest, and the thickest of all.

Let the air be full of arrows, in all directions; some ascending, some
falling down, and some darting straight forwards. The bullets of the
musketry, though not seen, will be marked in their course by a train
of smoke, which breaks through the general confusion. The figures in
the fore-ground should have their hair covered with dust, as also their
eyebrows, and all parts liable to receive it.

The victorious party will be running forwards, their hair and other
light parts flying in the wind, their eyebrows lowered, and the motion
of every member properly contrasted; for instance, in moving the right
foot forwards, the left arm must be brought forwards also. If you make
any of them fallen down, mark the trace of his fall on the slippery,
gore-stained dust; and where the ground is less impregnated with blood,
let the print of men's feet and of horses, that have passed that
way, be marked. Let there be some horses dragging the bodies of their
riders, and leaving behind them a furrow, made by the body thus trailed

The countenances of the vanquished will appear pale and dejected. Their
eyebrows raised, and much wrinkled about the forehead and cheeks.
The tip of their noses somewhat divided from the nostrils by arched
wrinkles terminating at the corner of the eyes, those wrinkles being
occasioned by the opening and raising of the nostrils; the upper
lips turned up, discovering the teeth. Their mouths wide open, and
expressive of violent lamentation. One may be seen fallen wounded
on the ground, endeavouring with one hand to support his body, and
covering his eyes with the other, the palm of which is turned towards
the enemy. Others running away, and with open mouths seeming to cry
aloud. Between the legs of the combatants let the ground be strewed
with all sorts of arms; as broken shields, spears, swords, and the
like. Many dead bodies should be introduced, some entirely covered
with dust, others in part only; let the blood, which seems to issue
immediately from the wound, appear of its natural colour, and running
in a winding course, till, mixing with the dust, it forms a reddish
kind of mud. Some should be in the agonies of death; their teeth shut,
their eyes wildly staring, their fists clenched, and their legs in a
distorted position. Some may appear disarmed, and beaten down by the
enemy, still fighting with their fists and teeth, and endeavouring
to take a passionate, though unavailing revenge. There may be also a
straggling horse without a rider, running in wild disorder; his mane
flying in the wind, beating down with his feet all before him, and
doing a deal of damage. A wounded soldier may also be seen falling to
the ground, and attempting to cover himself with his shield, while an
enemy bending over him endeavours to give him the finishing stroke.
Several dead bodies should be heaped together under a dead horse. Some
of the conquerors, as having ceased fighting, may be wiping their faces
from the dirt, collected on them by the mixture of dust with the water
from their eyes.

The _corps de reserve_ will be seen advancing gaily, but cautiously,
their eyebrows directed forwards, shading their eyes with their hands
to observe the motions of the enemy, amidst clouds of dust and smoke,
and seeming attentive to the orders of their chief. You may also make
their commander holding up his staff, pushing forwards, and pointing
towards the place where they are wanted. A river may likewise be
introduced, with horses fording it, dashing the water about between
their legs, and in the air, covering all the adjacent ground with water
and foam. Not a spot is to be left without some marks of blood and

/Chap. CLIX./--_The Representation of an Orator and his Audience._

/If/ you have to represent a man who is speaking to a large assembly of
people, you are to consider the subject matter of his discourse, and
to adapt his attitude to such subject. If he means to persuade, let it
be known by his gesture. If he is giving an explanation, deduced from
several reasons, let him put two fingers of the right hand within one
of the left, having the other two bent close, his face turned towards
the audience, with the mouth half open, seeming to speak. If he is
sitting, let him appear as going to raise himself up a little, and his
head be forward. But if he is represented standing, let him bend his
chest and his head forward towards the people.

The auditory are to appear silent and attentive, with their eyes upon
the speaker, in the act of admiration. There should be some old men,
with their mouths close shut, in token of approbation, and their lips
pressed together, so as to form wrinkles at the corners of the mouth,
and about the cheeks, and forming others about the forehead, by raising
the eyebrows, as if struck with astonishment. Some others of those
sitting by, should be seated with their hands within each other, round
one of their knees; some with one knee upon the other, and upon that,
one hand receiving the elbow, the other supporting the chin, covered
with a venerable beard.

/Chap. CLX./--_Of demonstrative Gestures._

/The/ action by which a figure points at any thing near, either in
regard to time or situation, is to be expressed by the hand very little
removed from the body. But if the same thing is far distant, the hand
must also be far removed from the body, and the face of the figure
pointing, must be turned towards those to whom he is pointing it out.

/Chap. CLXI./--_Of the Attitudes of the By-standers at some remarkable

/All/ those who are present at some event deserving notice, express
their admiration, but in various manners. As when the hand of justice
punishes some malefactor. If the subject be an act of devotion, the
eyes of all present should be directed towards the object of their
adoration, aided by a variety of pious actions with the other members;
as at the elevation of the host at mass, and other similar ceremonies.
If it be a laughable subject, or one exciting compassion and moving to
tears, in those cases it will not be necessary for all to have their
eyes turned towards the object, but they will express their feelings
by different actions; and let there be several assembled in groups, to
rejoice or lament together. If the event be terrific, let the faces of
those who run away from the fight, be strongly expressive of fright,
with various motions; as shall be described in the tract on Motion.

/Chap. CLXII./--_How to represent Night._

/Those/ objects which are entirely deprived of light, are lost to the
sight, as in the night; therefore if you mean to paint a history under
those circumstances, you must suppose a large fire, and those objects
that are near it to be tinged with its colour, and the nearer they are
the more they will partake of it. The fire being red, all those objects
which receive light from it will appear of a reddish colour, and
those that are most distant from it will partake of the darkness that
surrounds them. The figures which are represented before the fire will
appear dark in proportion to the brightness of the fire, because those
parts of them which we see, are tinged by that darkness of the night,
and not by the light of the fire, which they intercept. Those that are
on either side of the fire, will be half in the shade of night, and
half in the red light. Those seen beyond the extent of the flames,
will be all of a reddish light upon a black ground. In regard to their
attitudes, let those who are nearest the fire, make screens of their
hands and cloaks, against the scorching heat, with their faces turned
on the contrary side, as if ready to run away from it. The most remote
will only be shading their eyes with their hands, as if hurt by the too
great glare.

/Chap. CLXIII./--_The Method of awakening the Mind to a Variety of

/I will/ not omit to introduce among these precepts a new kind of
speculative invention, which though apparently trifling, and almost
laughable, is nevertheless of great utility in assisting the genius to
find variety for composition.

By looking attentively at old and smeared walls, or stones and veined
marble of various colours, you may fancy that you see in them several
compositions, landscapes, battles, figures in quick motion, strange
countenances, and dresses, with an infinity of other objects. By these
confused lines the inventive genius is excited to new exertions.

/Chap. CLXIV./--_Of Composition in History._

/When/ the painter has only a single figure to represent, he must avoid
any shortening whatever, as well of any particular member, as of the
whole figure, because he would have to contend with the prejudices of
those who have no knowledge in that branch of the art. But in subjects
of history, composed of many figures, shortenings may be introduced
with great propriety, nay, they are indispensable, and ought to be used
without reserve, as the subject may require; particularly in battles,
where of course many shortenings and contortions of figures happen,
amongst such an enraged multitude of actors, possessed, as it were, of
a brutal madness.


/Chap. CLXV./--_Of expressive Motions._

/Let/ your figures have actions appropriated to what they are intended
to think or say, and these will be well learnt by imitating the deaf,
who by the motion of their hands, eyes, eyebrows, and the whole body,
endeavour to express the sentiments of their mind. Do not ridicule the
thought of a master without a tongue teaching you an art he does not
understand; he will do it better by his expressive motions, than all
the rest by their words and examples. Let then the painter, of whatever
school, attend well to this maxim, and apply it to the different
qualities of the figures he represents, and to the nature of the
subject in which they are actors.

/Chap. CLXVI./--_How to paint Children._

/Children/ are to be represented with quick and contorted motions,
when they are sitting; but when standing, with fearful and timid

/Chap. CLXVII./--_How to represent old Men._

/Old/ men must have slow and heavy motions; their legs and knees must
be bent when they are standing, and their feet placed parallel and wide
asunder. Let them be bowed downwards, the head leaning much forward,
and their arms very little extended.

/Chap. CLXVIII./--_How to paint old Women._

/Old/ women, on the contrary, are to be represented bold and quick,
with passionate motions, like furies[33]. But the motions are to appear
a great deal quicker in their arms than in their legs.

/Chap. CLXIX./--_How to paint Women._

/Women/ are to be represented in modest and reserved attitudes, with
their knees rather close, their arms drawing near each other, or folded
about the body; their heads looking downwards, and leaning a little on
one side.

/Chap. CLXX./--_Of the Variety of Faces._

/The/ countenances of your figures should be expressive of their
different situations: men at work, at rest, weeping, laughing, crying
out, in fear, or joy, and the like. The attitudes also, and all the
members, ought to correspond with the sentiment expressed in the faces.

/Chap. CLXXI./--_The Parts of the Face, and their Motions._

/The/ motions of the different parts of the face, occasioned by sudden
agitations of the mind, are many. The principal of these are, Laughter,
Weeping, Calling out, Singing, either in a high or low pitch,
Admiration, Anger, Joy, Sadness, Fear, Pain, and others, of which
I propose to treat. First, of Laughing and Weeping, which are very
similar in the motion of the mouth, the cheeks, the shutting of the
eyebrows, and the space between them; as we shall explain in its place,
in treating of the changes which happen in the face, hands, fingers,
and all the other parts of the body, as they are affected by the
different emotions of the soul; the knowledge of which is absolutely
necessary to a painter, or else his figures may be said to be twice
dead. But it is very necessary also that he be careful not to fall into
the contrary extreme; giving extraordinary motions to his figures, so
that in a quiet and peaceable subject, he does not seem to represent a
battle, or the revellings of drunken men: but, above all, the actors in
any point of history must be attentive to what they are about, or to
what is going forward; with actions that denote admiration, respect,
pain, suspicion, fear, and joy, according as the occasion, for which
they are brought together, may require. Endeavour that different points
of history be not placed one above the other on the same canvass, nor
walls with different horizons[34], as if it were a jeweller's shop,
shewing the goods in different square caskets.

/Chap. CLXXII./--_Laughing and Weeping._

/Between/ the expression of laughter and that of weeping there is no
difference in the motion of the features either in the eyes, mouth,
or cheeks; only in the ruffling of the brows, which is added when
weeping, but more elevated and extended in laughing. One may represent
the figure weeping as tearing his clothes, or some other expression,
as various as the cause of his feeling may be; because some weep
for anger, some through fear, others for tenderness and joy, or for
suspicion; some for real pain and torment; whilst others weep through
compassion, or regret at the loss of some friend and near relation.
These different feelings will be expressed by some with marks of
despair, by others with moderation; some only shed tears, others cry
aloud, while another has his face turned towards heaven, with his
hand depressed, and his fingers twisted. Some again will be full of
apprehension, with their shoulders raised up to their ears, and so on,
according to the above causes.

Those who weep, raise the brows, and bring them close together above
the nose, forming many wrinkles on the forehead, and the corners of the
mouth are turned downwards. Those who laugh have them turned upwards,
and the brows open and extended.

/Chap. CLXXIII./--_Of Anger._

/If/ you represent a man in a violent fit of anger, make him seize
another by the hair, holding his head writhed down against the ground,
with his knee fixed upon the ribs of his antagonist; his right arm up,
and his fist ready to strike; his hair standing on end, his eyebrows
low and straight; his teeth close, and seen at the corner of the mouth;
his neck swelled, and his body covered in the Abdomen with creases,
occasioned by his bending over his enemy, and the excess of his passion.

/Chap. CLXXIV./--_Despair._

/The/ last act of despondency is, when a man is in the act of putting a
period to his own existence. He should be represented with a knife in
one hand, with which he has already inflicted the wound, and tearing it
open with the other. His garments and hair should be already torn. He
will be standing with his feet asunder, his knees a little bent, and
his body leaning forward, as if ready to fall to the ground.


/Chap. CLXXV./--_The Course of Study to be pursued._

/The/ student who is desirous of making great proficiency in the art
of imitating the works of Nature, should not only learn the shape of
figures or other objects, and be able to delineate them with truth and
precision, but he must also accompany them with their proper lights and
shadows, according to the situation in which those objects appear.

/Chap. CLXXVI./--_Which of the two is the most useful Knowledge, the
Outlines of Figures, or that of Light and Shadow._

/The/ knowledge of the outline is of most consequence, and yet may be
acquired to great certainty by dint of study; as the outlines of the
different parts of the human figure, particularly those which do not
bend, are invariably the same. But the knowledge of the situation,
quality, and quantity of shadows, being infinite, requires the most
extensive study.

/Chap. CLXXVII./--_Which is the most important, the Shadows or Outlines
in Painting._

/It/ requires much more observation and study to arrive at perfection
in the shadowing of a picture, than in merely drawing the lines of it.
The proof of this is, that the lines may be traced upon a veil or a
flat glass placed between the eye and the object to be imitated. But
that cannot be of any use in shadowing, on account of the infinite
gradation of shades, and the blending of them, which does not allow of
any precise termination; and most frequently they are confused, as will
be demonstrated in another place[35].

/Chap. CLXXVIII./--_What is a Painter's first Aim, and Object._

/The/ first object of a painter is to make a simple flat surface appear
like a relievo, and some of its parts detached from the ground; he
who excels all others in that part of the art, deserves the greatest
praise. This perfection of the art depends on the correct distribution
of lights and shades, called _Chiaro-scuro_. If the painter then avoids
shadows, he may be said to avoid the glory of the art, and to render
his work despicable to real connoisseurs, for the sake of acquiring the
esteem of vulgar and ignorant admirers of fine colours, who never have
any knowledge of relievo.

/Chap. CLXXIX./--_The Difference of Superficies, in regard to Painting._

/Solid/ bodies are of two sorts: the one has the surface curvilinear,
oval, or spherical; the other has several surfaces, or sides producing
angles, either regular or irregular. Spherical, or oval bodies, will
always appear detached from their ground, though they are exactly of
the same colour. Bodies also of different sides and angles will always
detach, because they are always disposed so as to produce shades on
some of their sides, which cannot happen to a plain superficies[36].

/Chap. CLXXX./--_How a Painter may become universal._

/The/ painter who wishes to be universal, and please a variety of
judges, must unite in the same composition, objects susceptible of
great force in the shadows, and great sweetness in the management of
them; accounting, however, in every instance, for such boldness and

/Chap. CLXXXI./--_Accuracy ought to be learnt before Dispatch in the

/If/ you wish to make good and useful studies, use great deliberation
in your drawings, observe well among the lights which, and how many,
hold the first rank in point of brightness; and so among the shadows,
which are darker than others, and in what manner they blend together;
compare the quality and quantity of one with the other, and observe
to what part they are directed. Be careful also in your outlines, or
divisions of the members. Remark well what quantity of parts are to be
on one side, and what on the other; and where they are more or less
apparent, or broad, or slender. Lastly, take care that the shadows and
lights be united, or lost in each other; without any hard strokes, or
lines: as smoke loses itself in the air, so are your lights and shadows
to pass from the one to the other, without any apparent separation.

When you have acquired the habit, and formed your hand to accuracy,
quickness of execution will come of itself[37].

/Chap. CLXXXII./--_How the Painter is to place himself in regard to the
Light, and his Model._

/Let/ A B be the window, M the centre of it, C the model. The best
situation for the painter will be a little sideways, between the window
and his model, as D, so that he may see his object partly in the light
and partly in the shadow.


/Chap. CLXXXIII./--_Of the best Light._

/The/ light from on high, and not too powerful, will be found the best
calculated to shew the parts to advantage.

/Chap. CLXXXIV./--_Of Drawing by Candle-light._

/To/ this artificial light apply a paper blind, and you will see the
shadows undetermined and soft.

/Chap. CLXXXV./--_Of those Painters who draw at Home from one Light,
and afterwards adapt their Studies to another Situation in the Country,
and a different Light._

/It/ is a great error in some painters who draw a figure from Nature at
home, by any particular light, and afterwards make use of that drawing
in a picture representing an open country, which receives the general
light of the sky, where the surrounding air gives light on all sides.
This painter would put dark shadows, where Nature would either produce
none, or, if any, so very faint as to be almost imperceptible; and he
would throw reflected lights where it is impossible there should be any.

/Chap. CLXXXVI./--_How high the Light should be in drawing from Nature._

/To/ paint well from Nature, your window should be to the North, that
the lights may not vary. If it be to the South, you must have paper
blinds, that the sun, in going round, may not alter the shadows. The
situation of the light should be such as to produce upon the ground a
shadow from your model as long as that is high.

/Chap. CLXXXVII./--_What Light the Painter must make use of to give
most Relief to his Figures._

/The/ figures which receive a particular light shew more relief than
those which receive an universal one; because the particular light
occasions some reflexes, which proceed from the light of one object
upon the shadows of another, and helps to detach it from the dark
ground. But a figure placed in front of a dark and large space, and
receiving a particular light, can receive no reflexion from any other
objects, and nothing is seen of the figure but what the light strikes
on, the rest being blended and lost in the darkness of the back ground.
This is to be applied only to the imitation of night subjects with very
little light.

/Chap. CLXXXVIII./--_Advice to Painters._

/Be/ very careful, in painting, to observe, that between the shadows
there are other shadows, almost imperceptible, both for darkness and
shape; and this is proved by the third proposition[38], which says,
that the surfaces of globular or convex bodies have as great a variety
of lights and shadows as the bodies that surround them have.

/Chap. CLXXXIX./--_Of Shadows._

/Those/ shadows which in Nature are undetermined, and the extremities of
which can hardly be perceived, are to be copied in your painting in
the same manner, never to be precisely finished, but left confused and
blended. This apparent neglect will shew great judgment, and be the
ingenious result of your observation of Nature.

/Chap. CXC./--_Of the Kind of Light proper for drawing from Relievos,
or from Nature._

/Lights/ separated from the shadows with too much precision, have a
very bad effect. In order, therefore, to avoid this inconvenience,
if the object be in the open country, you need not let your figures
be illumined by the sun; but may suppose some transparent clouds
interposed, so that the sun not being visible, the termination of the
shadows will be also imperceptible and soft.

/Chap. CXCI./--_Whether the Light should be admitted in Front or
sideways; and which is most pleasing and graceful._

/The/ light admitted in front of heads situated opposite to side walls
that are dark, will cause them to have great relievo, particularly if
the light be placed high; and the reason is, that the most prominent
parts of those faces are illumined by the general light striking them
in front, which light produces very faint shadows on the part where it
strikes; but as it turns towards the sides, it begins to participate
of the dark shadows of the room, which grow darker in proportion as
it sinks into them. Besides, when the light comes from on high, it
does not strike on every part of the face alike, but one part produces
great shadows upon another; as the eyebrows, which deprive the whole
sockets of the eyes of light. The nose keeps it off from great part of
the mouth, and the chin from the neck, and such other parts. This, by
concentrating the light upon the most projecting parts, produces a very
great relief.

/Chap. CXCII./--_Of the Difference of Lights according to the

/A small/ light will cast large and determined shadows upon the
surrounding bodies. A large light, on the contrary, will cast small
shadows on them, and they will be much confused in their termination.
When a small but strong light is surrounded by a broad but weaker
light, the latter will appear like a demi-tint to the other, as the sky
round the sun. And the bodies which receive the light from the one,
will serve as demi-tints to those which receive the light from the

/Chap. CXCIII./--_How to distribute the Light on Figures._

/The/ lights are to be distributed according to the natural situation
you mean your figures should occupy. If you suppose them in sunshine,
the shades must be dark, the lights broad and extended, and the shadows
of all the surrounding objects distinctly marked upon the ground. If
seen in a gloomy day, there will be very little difference between
the lights and shades, and no shadows at the feet. If the figures
be represented within doors, the lights and shadows will again be
distinctly divided, and produce shadows on the ground. But if you
suppose a paper blind at the window, and the walls painted white,
the effect will be the same as in a gloomy day, when the lights and
shadows have little difference. If the figures are enlightened by the
fire, the lights must be red and powerful, the shadows dark, and the
shadows upon the ground and upon the walls must be precise; observing
that they spread wider as they go off from the body. If the figures
be enlightened, partly by the sky and partly by the fire, that side
which receives the light from the sky will be the brightest, and on
the other side it will be reddish, somewhat of the colour of the fire.
Above all, contrive, that your figures receive a broad light, and that
from above; particularly in portraits, because the people we see in the
street receive all the light from above; and it is curious to observe,
that there is not a face ever so well known amongst your acquaintance,
but would be recognised with difficulty, if it were enlightened from

/Chap. CXCIV./--_Of the Beauty of Faces._

/You/ must not mark any muscles with hardness of line, but let the
soft light glide upon them, and terminate imperceptibly in delightful
shadows: from this will arise grace and beauty to the face.

/Chap. CXCV./--_How, in drawing a Face, to give it Grace, by the
Management of Light and Shade._

/A face/ placed in the dark part of a room, acquires great additional
grace by means of light and shadow. The shadowed part of the face
blends with the darkness of the ground, and the light part receives
an increase of brightness from the open air, the shadows on this side
becoming almost insensible; and from this augmentation of light and
shadow, the face has much relief, and acquires great beauty.

/Chap. CXCVI./--_How to give Grace and Relief to Faces._

/In/ streets running towards the west, when the sun is in the meridian,
and the walls on each side so high that they cast no reflexions on that
side of the bodies which is in shade, and the sky is not too bright,
we find the most advantageous situation for giving relief and grace to
figures, particularly to faces; because both sides of the face will
participate of the shadows of the walls. The sides of the nose and
the face towards the west, will be light, and the man whom we suppose
placed at the entrance, and in the middle of the street, will see all
the parts of that face, which are before him, perfectly illumined,
while both sides of it, towards the walls, will be in shadow. What
gives additional grace is, that these shades do not appear cutting,
hard, or dry, but softly blended and lost in each other. The reason of
it is, that the light which is spread all over in the air, strikes also
the pavement of the street, and reflecting upon the shady part of the
face, it tinges that slightly with the same hue: while the great light
which comes from above being confined by the tops of houses, strikes
on the face from different points, almost to the very beginning of
the shadows under the projecting parts of the face. It diminishes by
degrees the strength of them, increasing the light till it comes upon
the chin, where it terminates, and loses itself, blending softly into
the shades on all sides. For instance, if such light were A E, the line
F E would give light even to the bottom of the nose. The line C F will
give light only to the under lip; but the line A H would extend the
shadow to all the under parts of the face, and under the chin.

In this situation the nose receives a very strong light from all the
points A B C D E.


/Chap. CXCVII./--_Of the Termination of Bodies upon each other._

/When/ a body, of a cylindrical or convex surface, terminates upon
another body of the same colour, it will appear darker on the edge,
than the body upon which it terminates. And any flat body, adjacent to
a white surface, will appear very dark; but upon a dark ground it will
appear lighter than any other part, though the lights be equal.

/Chap. CXCVIII./--_Of the Back-grounds of painted Objects._

/The/ ground which surrounds the figures in any painting, ought to
be darker than the light part of those figures, and lighter than the
shadowed part.

/Chap. CXCIX./--_How to detach and bring forward Figures out of their

/If/ your figure be dark, place it on a light ground; if it be light,
upon a dark ground; and if it be partly light and partly dark, as is
generally the case, contrive that the dark part of the figure be upon
the light part of the ground, and the light side of it against the

/Chap. CC./--_Of proper Back-grounds._

/It/ is of the greatest importance to consider well the nature of
back-grounds, upon which any opake body is to be placed. In order to
detach it properly, you should place the light part of such opake body
against the dark part of the back-ground, and the dark parts on a light
ground[40]; as in the cut[41].


/Chap. CCI./--_Of the general Light diffused over Figures._

/In/ compositions of many figures and animals, observe, that the parts
of these different objects ought to be darker in proportion as they are
lower, and as they are nearer the middle of the groups, though they
are all of an uniform colour. This is necessary, because a smaller
portion of the sky (from which all bodies are illuminated) can give
light to the lower spaces between these different figures, than to the
upper parts of the spaces. It is proved thus: A B C D is that portion
of the sky which gives light to all the objects beneath; M and N are
the bodies which occupy the space S T R H, in which it is evidently
perceived, that the point F, receiving the light only from the portion
of the sky C D, has a smaller quantity of it than the point E which
receives it from the whole space A B (a larger portion than C D);
therefore it will be lighter in E than in F.


/Chap. CCII./--_Of those Parts in Shadows which appear the darkest at a


/The/ neck, or any other part which is raised straight upwards, and
has a projection over it, will be darker than the perpendicular
front of that projection; and this projecting part will be lighter,
in proportion as it presents a larger surface to the light. For
instance, the recess A receives no light from any part of the sky G
K, but B begins to receive the light from the part of the sky H K,
and C from G K; and the point D receives the whole of F K. Therefore
the chest will be as light as the forehead, nose, and chin. But what
I have particularly to recommend, in regard to faces, is, that you
observe well those different qualities of shades which are lost at
different distances (while there remain only the first and principal
spots or strokes of shades, such as those of the sockets of the eyes,
and other similar recesses, which are always dark), and at last the
whole face becomes obscured; because the greatest lights (being small
in proportion to the demi-tints) are lost. The quality, therefore,
and quantity of the principal lights and shades are by means of great
distance blended together into a general half-tint; and this is the
reason why trees and other objects are found to be in appearance darker
at some distance than they are in reality, when nearer to the eye.
But then the air, which interposes between the objects and the eye,
will render them light again by tinging them with azure, rather in the
shades than in the lights; for the lights will preserve the truth of
the different colours much longer.

/Chap. CCIII./--_Of the Eye viewing the Folds of Draperies surrounding
a Figure._

/The/ shadows between the folds of a drapery surrounding the parts of
the human body will be darker as the deep hollows where the shadows are
generated are more directly opposite the eye. This is to be observed
only when the eye is placed between the light and the shady part of the

/Chap. CCIV./--_Of the Relief of Figures remote from the Eye._

/Any/ opake body appears less relieved in proportion as it is farther
distant from the eye; because the air, interposed between the eye
and such body, being lighter than the shadow of it, it tarnishes and
weakens that shadow, lessens its power, and consequently lessens also
its relief.

/Chap. CCV./--_Of Outlines of Objects on the Side towards the Light._

/The/ extremities of any object on the side which receives the light,
will appear darker if upon a lighter ground, and lighter if seen upon a
darker ground. But if such body be flat, and seen upon a ground equal
in point of light with itself, and of the same colour, such boundaries,
or outlines, will be entirely lost to the sight[42].

/Chap. CCVI./--_How to make Objects detach from their Ground, that is
to say, from the Surface on which they are painted._

/Objects/ contrasted with a light ground will appear much more detached
than those which are placed against a dark one. The reason is, that
if you wish to give relief to your figures, you will make those parts
which are the farthest from the light, participate the least of it;
therefore they will remain the darkest, and every distinction of
outline would be lost in the general mass of shadows. But to give it
grace, roundness, and effect, those dark shades are always attended by
reflexes, or else they would either cut too hard upon the ground, or
stick to it, by the similarity of shade, and relieve the less as the
ground is darker; for at some distance nothing would be seen but the
light parts, therefore your figures would appear mutilated of all that
remains lost in the back-ground.


/Chap. CCVII./--_A Precept._

/Figures/ will have more grace, placed in the open and general light,
than in any particular or small one; because the powerful and
extended light will surround and embrace the objects: and works done
in that kind of light appear pleasant and graceful when placed at a
distance[43], while those which are drawn in a narrow light, will
receive great force of shadow, but will never appear at a great
distance, but as painted objects.

/Chap. CCVIII./--_Of the Interposition of transparent Bodies between
the Eye and the Object._

/The/ greater the transparent interposition is between the eye and the
object, the more the colour of that object will participate of, or be
changed into that of the transparent medium[44].

When an opake body is situated between the eye and the luminary, so
that the central line of the one passes also through the centre of the
other, that object will be entirely deprived of light.

/Chap. CCIX./--_Of proper Back-grounds for Figures._

/As/ we find by experience, that all bodies are surrounded by lights
and shadows, I would have the painter to accommodate that part which is
enlightened, so as to terminate upon something dark; and to manage the
dark parts so that they may terminate on a light ground. This will be
of great assistance in detaching and bringing out his figures[45].

/Chap. CCX./--_Of Back-grounds._

/To/ give a great effect to figures, you must oppose to a light one a
dark ground, and to a dark figure a light ground, contrasting white
with black, and black with white. In general, all contraries give a
particular force and brilliancy of effect by their opposition[46].


/Chap. CCXI./--_Of Objects placed on a light Ground, and why such a
Practice is useful in Painting._

/When/ a darkish body terminates upon a light ground, it will appear
detached from that ground; because all opake bodies of a curved
surface are not only dark on that side which receives no light, and
consequently very different from the ground; but even that side of the
curved surface which is enlightened, will not carry its principal light
to the extremities, but have between the ground and the principal light
a certain demi-tint, darker than either the ground or that light.

/Chap. CCXII./--_Of the different Effects of White, according to the
Difference of Back-grounds._

/Any/ thing white will appear whiter, by being opposed to a dark
ground; and, on the contrary, darker upon a light ground. This we learn
from observing snow as it falls; while it is descending it appears
darker against the sky, than when we see it against an open window,
which (owing to the darkness of the inside of the house) makes it
appear very white. Observe also, that snow appears to fall very quick
and in a great quantity when near the eye; but when at some distance,
it seems to come down slowly, and in a smaller quantity[47].

/Chap. CCXIII./--_Of Reverberation._

/Reverberations/ are produced by all bodies of a bright nature, that
have a smooth and tolerably hard surface, which, repelling the light it
receives, makes it rebound like a foot-ball against the first object
opposed to it.

/Chap. CCXIV./--_Where there cannot be any Reverberation of Light._

/The/ surfaces of hard bodies are surrounded by various qualities of
light and shadow. The lights are of two sorts; one is called original,
the other derivative. The original light is that which comes from the
sun, or the brightness of fire, or else from the air. The derivative is
a reflected light. But to return to our definition, I say, there can
be no reflexion on that side which is turned towards any dark body;
such as roofs, either high or low, shrubs, grass, wood, either dry
or green; because, though every individual part of those objects be
turned towards the original light, and struck by it; yet the quantity
of shadow which every one of these parts produces upon the others, is
so great, that, upon the whole, the light, not forming a compact mass,
loses its effect, so that those objects cannot reflect any light upon
the opposite bodies.

/Chap. CCXV./--_In what Part the Reflexes have more or less Brightness._

/The/ reflected lights will be more or less apparent or bright, in
proportion as they are seen against a darker or fainter ground; because
if the ground be darker than the reflex, then this reflex will appear
stronger on account of the great difference of colour. But, on the
contrary, if this reflexion has behind it a ground lighter than itself,
it will appear dark, in comparison to the brightness which is close to
it, and therefore it will be hardly perceptible[48].

/Chap. CCXVI./--_Of the reflected Lights which surround the Shadows._

/The/ reflected lights which strike upon the midst of shadows, will
brighten up or lessen their obscurity in proportion to the strength
of those lights, and their proximity to those shadows. Many painters
neglect this observation, while others attend to and deduce their
practice from it. This difference of opinion and practice divides the
sentiments of artists, so that they blame each other for not thinking
and acting as they themselves do. The best way is to steer a middle
course, and not to admit of any reflected light, but when the cause of
it is evident to every eye; and _vice versâ_, if you introduce none
at all, let it appear evident that there was no reasonable cause for
it. In doing so, you will neither be totally blamed nor praised by the
variety of opinion, which, if not proceeding from entire ignorance,
will ensure to you the approbation of both parties.

/Chap. CCXVII./--_Where Reflexes are to be most apparent._

/Of/ all reflected lights, that is to be the most apparent, bold, and
precise, which detaches from the darkest ground; and, on the contrary,
that which is upon a lighter ground will be less apparent. And this
proceeds from the contraste of shades, by which the faintest makes the
dark ones appear still darker; so in contrasted lights, the brightest
cause the others to appear less bright than they really are[49].

/Chap. CCXVIII./--_What Part of a Reflex is to be the lightest._

/That/ part will be the brightest which receives the reflected light
between angles the most nearly equal. For example, let N be the
luminary, and A B the illuminated part of the object, reflecting the
light over all the shady part of the concavity opposite to it. The
light which reflects upon F will be placed between equal angles. But
E at the base will not be reflected by equal angles, as it is evident
that the angle E A B is more obtuse than the angle E B A. The angle
A F B however, though it is between angles of less quality than the
angle E, and has a common base B A, is between angles more nearly equal
than E, therefore it will be lighter in F than in E; and it will also
be brighter, because it is nearer to the part which gives them light.
According to the 6th rule[50], which says, that part of the body is to
be the lightest, which is nearest to the luminary.


/Chap. CCXIX./--_Of the Termination of Reflexes on their Grounds._

/The/ termination of a reflected light on a ground lighter than that
reflex, will not be perceivable; but if such a reflex terminates upon a
ground darker than itself, it will be plainly seen; and the more so in
proportion as that ground is darker, and _vice versa_[51].

/Chap. CCXX./--_Of double and treble Reflexions of Light._

/Double/ reflexes are stronger than single ones, and the shadows which
interpose between the common light and these reflexes are very faint.
For instance, let A be the luminous body, A N, A S, are the direct
rays, and S N the parts which receive the light from them. O and E are
the places enlightened by the reflexion of that light in those parts.
A N E is a single reflex, but A N O, A S O is the double reflex. The
single reflex is that which proceeds from a single light, but the
double reflexion is produced by two different lights. The single one
E is produced by the light striking on B D, while the double one O
proceeds from the enlightened bodies B D and D R co-operating together;
and the shadows which are between N O and S O will be very faint.


/Chap. CCXXI./--_Reflexes in the Water, and particularly those of the

/The/ only portion of air that will be seen reflected in the water,
will be that which is reflected by the surface of the water to the eye
between equal angles; that is to say, the angle of incidence must be
equal to the angle of reflexion.



/Chap. CCXXII./--_What Surface is best calculated to receive most

/White/ is more capable of receiving all sorts of colours, than the
surface of any body whatever, that is not transparent. To prove it, we
shall say, that any void space is capable of receiving what another
space, not void, cannot receive. In the same manner, a white surface,
like a void space, being destitute of any colour, will be fittest to
receive such as are conveyed to it from any other enlightened body, and
will participate more of the colour than black can do; which latter,
like a broken vessel, is not able to contain any thing.

/Chap. CCXXIII./--_What Surface will shew most perfectly its true

/That/ opake body will shew its colour more perfect and beautiful,
which has near it another body of the same colour.

/Chap. CCXXIV./--_On what Surfaces the true Colour is least apparent._

/Polished/ and glossy surfaces shew least of their genuine colour. This
is exemplified in the grass of the fields, and the leaves of trees,
which, being smooth and glossy, will reflect the colour of the sun, and
the air, where they strike, so that the parts which receive the light
do not shew their natural colour.

/Chap. CCXXV./--_What Surfaces shew most of their true and genuine

/Those/ objects that are the least smooth and polished shew their
natural colours best; as we see in cloth, and in the leaves of such
grass or trees as are of a woolly nature; which, having no lustre,
are exhibited to the eye in their true natural colour; unless that
colour happen to be confused by that of another body casting on them
reflexions of an opposite colour, such as the redness of the setting
sun, when all the clouds are tinged with its colour.

/Chap. CCXXVI./--_Of the Mixture of Colours._

/Although/ the mixture of colours may be extended to an infinite
variety, almost impossible to be described, I will not omit touching
slightly upon it, setting down at first a certain number of simple
colours to serve as a foundation, and with each of these mixing one
of the others; one with one, then two with two, and three with three,
proceeding in this manner to the full mixture of all the colors
together: then I would begin again, mixing two of these colours with
two others, and three with three, four with four, and so on to the end.
To these two colours we shall put three; to these three add three more,
and then six, increasing always in the same proportion.

I call those simple colours, which are not composed, and cannot be made
or supplied by any mixture of other colours. Black and White are not
reckoned among colours; the one is the representative of darkness, the
other of light: that is, one is a simple privation of light, the other
is light itself. Yet I will not omit mentioning them, because there is
nothing in painting more useful and necessary; since painting is but an
effect produced by lights and shadows, viz. _chiaro-scuro_. After Black
and White come Blue and Yellow, then Green, and Tawny or Umber, and
then Purple and Red. These eight colours are all that Nature produces.
With these I begin my mixtures, first Black and White, Black and
Yellow, Black and Red; then Yellow and Red: but I shall treat more at
length of these mixtures in a separate work[52], which will be of great
utility, nay very necessary. I shall place this subject between theory
and practice.

/Chap. CCXXVII./--_Of the Colours produced by the Mixture of other
Colours, called secondary Colours._

/The/ first of all simple colours is White, though philosophers will
not acknowledge either White or Black to be colours; because the first
is the cause, or the receiver of colours, the other totally deprived
of them. But as painters cannot do without either, we shall place them
among the others; and according to this order of things, White will
be the first, Yellow the second, Green the third, Blue the fourth,
Red the fifth, and Black the sixth. We shall set down White for the
representative of light, without which no colour can be seen; Yellow
for the earth; Green for water; Blue for air; Red for fire; and Black
for total darkness.

If you wish to see by a short process the variety of all the mixed, or
composed colours, take some coloured glasses, and, through them, look
at all the country round: you will find that the colour of each object
will be altered and mixed with the colour of the glass through which it
is seen; observe which colour is made better, and which is hurt by the
mixture. If the glass be yellow, the colour of the objects may either
be improved, or greatly impaired by it. Black and White will be most
altered, while Green and Yellow will be meliorated. In the same manner
you may go through all the mixtures of colours, which are infinite.
Select those which are new and agreeable to the sight; and following
the same method you may go on with two glasses, or three, till you have
found what will best answer your purpose.

/Chap. CCXXVIII./--_Of Verdegris._

/This/ green, which is made of copper, though it be mixed with oil,
will lose its beauty, if it be not varnished immediately. It not only
fades, but, if washed with a sponge and pure water only, it will detach
from the ground upon which it is painted, particularly in damp weather;
because verdegris is produced by the strength of salts, which easily
dissolve in rainy weather, but still more if washed with a wet sponge.

/Chap. CCXXIX./--_How to increase the Beauty of Verdegris._

/If/ you mix with the Verdegris some Caballine Aloe, it will add to it
a great degree of beauty. It would acquire still more from Saffron, if
it did not fade. The quality and goodness of this Aloe will be proved
by dissolving it in warm Brandy. Supposing the Verdegris has already
been used, and the part finished, you may then glaze it thinly with
this dissolved Aloe, and it will produce a very fine colour. This Aloe
may be ground also in oil by itself, or with the Verdegris, or any
other colour, at pleasure.

/Chap. CCXXX./--_How to paint a Picture that will last almost for ever._

/After/ you have made a drawing of your intended picture, prepare a
good and thick priming with pitch and brickdust well pounded; after
which give it a second coat of white lead and Naples yellow; then,
having traced your drawing upon it, and painted your picture, varnish
it with clear and thick old oil, and stick it to a flat glass, or
crystal, with a clear varnish. Another method, which may be better,
is, instead of the priming of pitch and brickdust, take a flat tile
well vitrified, then apply the coat of white and Naples yellow, and all
the rest as before. But before the glass is applied to it, the painting
must be perfectly dried in a stove, and varnished with nut oil and
amber, or else with purified nut oil alone, thickened in the sun[53].

/Chap. CCXXXI./--_The Mode of painting on Canvass, or Linen Cloth_[54].

/Stretch/ your canvass upon a frame, then give it a coat of weak size,
let it dry, and draw your outlines upon it. Paint the flesh colours
first; and while it is still fresh or moist, paint also the shadows,
well softened and blended together. The flesh colour may be made with
white, lake, and Naples yellow. The shades with black, umber, and
a little lake; you may, if you please, use black chalk. After you
have softened this first coat, or dead colour, and let it dry, you
may retouch over it with lake and other colours, and gum water that
has been a long while made and kept liquid, because in that state it
becomes better, and does not leave any gloss. Again, to make the shades
darker, take the lake and gum as above, and ink[55]; and with this you
may shade or glaze many colours, because it is transparent; such as
azure, lake, and several others. As for the lights, you may retouch
or glaze them slightly with gum water and pure lake, particularly

/Chap. CCXXXII./--_Of lively and beautiful Colours._

/For/ those colours which you mean should appear beautiful, prepare a
ground of pure white. This is meant only for transparent colours: as
for those that have a body, and are opake, it matters not what ground
they have, and a white one is of no use. This is exemplified by painted
glasses; when placed between the eye and clear air, they exhibit most
excellent and beautiful colours, which is not the case, when they have
thick air, or some opake body behind them.

/Chap. CCXXXIII./--_Of transparent Colours._

/When/ a transparent colour is laid upon another of a different
nature, it produces a mixed colour, different from either of the
simple ones which compose it. This is observed in the smoke coming
out of a chimney, which, when passing before the black soot, appears
blueish, but as it ascends against the blue of the sky, it changes its
appearance into a reddish brown. So the colour lake laid on blue will
turn it to a violet colour; yellow upon blue turns to green; saffron
upon white becomes yellow; white scumbled upon a dark ground appears
blue, and is more or less beautiful, as the white and the ground are
more or less pure.

/Chap. CCXXXIV./--_In what Part a Colour will appear in its greatest

/We/ are to consider here in what part any colour will shew itself in
its most perfect purity; whether in the strongest light or deepest
shadow, in the demi-tint, or in the reflex. It would be necessary to
determine first, of what colour we mean to treat, because different
colours differ materially in that respect. Black is most beautiful
in the shades; white in the strongest light; blue and green in the
half-tint; yellow and red in the principal light; gold in the reflexes;
and lake in the half-tint.

/Chap. CCXXXV./--_How any Colour without Gloss, is more beautiful in
the Lights than in the Shades._

/All/ objects which have no gloss, shew their colours better in the
light than in the shadow, because the light vivifies and gives a true
knowledge of the nature of the colour, while the shadows lower, and
destroy its beauty, preventing the discovery of its nature. If, on the
contrary, black be more beautiful in the shadows, it is because black
is not a colour.

/Chap. CCXXXVI./--_Of the Appearance of Colours._

/The/ lighter a colour is in its nature, the more so it will appear when
removed to some distance; but with dark colours it is quite the reverse.

/Chap. CCXXXVII./--_What Part of a Colour is to be the most beautiful._

/If/ A be the light, and B the object receiving it in a direct line,
E cannot receive that light, but only the reflexion from B, which we
shall suppose to be red. In that case, the light it produces being red,
it will tinge with red the object E; and if E happen to be also red
before, you will see that colour increase in beauty, and appear redder
than B; but if E were yellow, you will see a new colour, participating
of the red and the yellow.


/Chap. CCXXXVIII./--_That the Beauty of a Colour is to be found
in the Lights._

/As/ the quality of colours is discovered to the eye by the light, it
is natural to conclude, that where there is most light, there also
the true quality of the colour is to be seen; and where there is most
shadow the colour will participate of, and be tinged with the colour of
that shadow. Remember then to shew the true quality of the colour in
the light parts only[56].

/Chap. CCXXXIX./--_Of Colours._

/The/ colour which is between the light and the shadow will not be so
beautiful as that which is in the full light. Therefore the chief beauty
of colours will be found in the principal lights[57].

/Chap. CCXL./--_No Object appears in its true Colour, unless the
Light which strikes upon it be of the same Colour._

/This/ is very observable in draperies, where the light folds casting a
reflexion, and throwing a light on other folds opposite to them, make
them appear in their natural colour. The same effect is produced by gold
leaves casting their light reciprocally on each other. The effect is
quite contrary if the light be received from an object of a different

/Chap. CCXLI./--_Of the Colour of Shadows._

/The/ colour of the shadows of an object can never be pure if the body
which is opposed to these shadows be not of the same colour as that on
which they are produced. For instance, if in a room, the walls of which
are green, I place a figure clothed in blue, and receiving the light
from another blue object, the light part of that figure will be of a
beautiful blue, but the shadows of it will become dingy, and not like a
true shade of that beautiful blue, because it will be corrupted by the
reflexions from the green wall; and it would be still worse if the walls
were of a darkish brown.

/Chap. CCXLII./--_Of Colours._

/Colours/ placed in shadow will preserve more or less of their original
beauty, as they are more or less immersed in the shade. But colours
situated in a light space will shew their natural beauty in proportion
to the brightness of that light. Some say, that there is as great
variety in the colours of shadows, as in the colours of objects shaded
by them. It may be answered, that colours placed in shadow will shew
less variety amongst themselves as the shadows are darker. We shall
soon convince ourselves of this truth, if, from a large square, we look
through the open door of a church, where pictures, though enriched with
a variety of colours, appear all clothed in darkness.

/Chap. CCXLIII./--_Whether it be possible for all Colours to
appear alike by means of the same Shadow._

/It/ is very possible that all the different colours may be changed
into that of a general shadow; as is manifest in the darkness of a
cloudy night, in which neither the shape nor colour of bodies is
distinguished. Total darkness being nothing but a privation of the
primitive and reflected lights, by which the form and colour of bodies
are seen; it is evident, that the cause being removed the effect
ceases, and the objects are entirely lost to the sight.

/Chap. CCXLIV./--_Why White is not reckoned among the Colours._

/White/ is not a colour, but has the power of receiving all the other
colours. When it is placed in a high situation in the country, all its
shades are azure; according to the fourth proposition[59], which says,
that the surface of any opake body participates of the colour of any
other body sending the light to it. Therefore white being deprived of
the light of the sun by the interposition of any other body, will remain
white; if exposed to the sun on one side, and to the open air on the
other, it will participate both of the colour of the sun and of the air.
That side which is not opposed to the sun, will be shaded of the colour
of the air. And if this white were not surrounded by green fields all
the way to the horizon, nor could receive any light from that horizon,
without doubt it would appear of one simple and uniform colour, viz.
that of the air.

/Chap. CCXLV./--_Of Colours._

/The/ light of the fire tinges every thing of a reddish yellow; but
this will hardly appear evident, if we do not make the comparison with
the daylight. Towards the close of the evening this is easily done; but
more certainly after the morning twilight; and the difference will be
clearly distinguished in a dark room, when a little glimpse of daylight
strikes upon any part of the room, and there still remains a candle
burning. Without such a trial the difference is hardly perceivable,
particularly in those colours which have most similarity; such as white
and yellow, light green and light blue; because the light which strikes
the blue, being yellow, will naturally turn it green; as we have said
in another place[60], that a mixture of blue and yellow produces green.
And if to a green colour you add some yellow, it will make it of a more
beautiful green.

/Chap. CCXLVI./--_Of the Colouring of remote Objects._

/The/ painter, who is to represent objects at some distance from the
eye, ought merely to convey the idea of general undetermined masses,
making choice, for that purpose, of cloudy weather, or towards the
evening, and avoiding, as was said before, to mark the lights and
shadows too strong on the extremities; because they would in that
case appear like spots of difficult execution, and without grace. He
ought to remember, that the shadows are never to be of such a quality,
as to obliterate the proper colour, in which they originated; if the
situation of the coloured body be not in total darkness. He ought to
mark no outline, not to make the hair stringy, and not to touch with
pure white, any but those things which in themselves are white; in
short, the lightest touch upon any particular object ought to denote
the beauty of its proper and natural colour.

/Chap. CCXLVII./--_The Surface of all opake Bodies participates
of the Colour of the surrounding Objects._

/The/ painter ought to know, that if any white object is placed between
two walls, one of which is also white, and the other black, there will
be found between the shady side of that object and the light side, a
similar proportion to that of the two walls; and if that object be
blue, the effect will be the same. Having therefore to paint this
object, take some black, similar to that of the wall from which the
reflexes come; and to proceed by a certain and scientific method, do as
follows. When you paint the wall, take a small spoon to measure exactly
the quantity of colour you mean to employ in mixing your tints; for
instance, if you have put in the shading of this wall three spoonfuls
of pure black, and one of white, you have, without any doubt, a mixture
of a certain and precise quality. Now having painted one of the walls
white, and the other dark, if you mean to place a blue object between
them with shades suitable to that colour, place first on your pallet
the light blue, such as you mean it to be, without any mixture of
shade, and it will do for the lightest part of your object. After which
take three spoonfuls of black, and one of this light blue, for your
darkest shades. Then observe whether your object be round or square:
if it be square, these two extreme tints of light and shade will be
close to each other, cutting sharply at the angle; but if it be round,
draw lines from the extremities of the walls to the centre of the
object, and put the darkest shade between equal angles, where the lines
intersect upon the superficies of it; then begin to make them lighter
and lighter gradually to the point N O, lessening the strength of the
shadows as much as that place participates of the light A D, and mixing
that colour with the darkest shade A B, in the same proportion.


/Chap. CCXLVIII./--_General Remarks on Colours._

/Blue/ and green are not simple colours in their nature, for blue is
composed of light and darkness; such is the azure of the sky, viz.
perfect black and perfect white. Green is composed of a simple and a
mixed colour, being produced by blue and yellow.

Any object seen in a mirror, will participate of the colour of that
body which serves as a mirror; and the mirror in its turn is tinged in
part by the colour of the object it represents; they partake more or
less of each other as the colour of the object seen is more or less
strong than the colour of the mirror. That object will appear of the
strongest and most lively colour in the mirror, which has the most
affinity to the colour of the mirror itself.

Of coloured bodies, the purest white will be seen at the greatest
distance, therefore the darker the colour, the less it will bear

Of different bodies equal in whiteness, and in distance from the eye,
that which is surrounded by the greatest darkness will appear the
whitest; and on the contrary, that shadow will appear the darkest that
has the brightest white round it.

Of different colours, equally perfect, that will appear most excellent,
which is seen near its direct contrary. A pale colour against red, a
black upon white (though neither the one nor the other are colours),
blue near a yellow; green near red; because each colour is more
distinctly seen, when opposed to its contrary, than to any other
similar to it.

Any thing white seen in a dense air full of vapours, will appear larger
than it is in reality.

The air, between the eye and the object seen, will change the colour
of that object into its own; so will the azure of the air change the
distant mountains into blue masses. Through a red glass every thing
appears red; the light round the stars is dimmed by the darkness of the
air, which fills the space between the eye and the planets.

The true colour of any object whatever will be seen in those parts
which are not occupied by any kind of shade, and have not any gloss (if
it be a polished surface).

I say, that white terminating abruptly upon a dark ground, will cause
that part where it terminates to appear darker, and the white whiter.


/Chap. CCXLIX./--_Of the Light proper for painting Flesh Colour from

/Your/ window must be open to the sky, and the walls painted of a
reddish colour. The summertime is the best, when the clouds conceal the
sun, or else your walls on the south side of the room must be so high,
as that the sun-beams cannot strike on the opposite side, in order
that the reflexion of those beams may not destroy the shadows.

/Chap. CCL./--_Of the Painter's Window._

/The/ window which gives light to a painting-room, ought to be made of
oiled paper, without any cross bar, or projecting edge at the opening,
or any sharp angle in the inside of the wall, but should be slanting by
degrees the whole thickness of it; and the sides be painted black.

/Chap. CCLI./--_The Shadows of Colours._

/The/ shadows of any colour whatever must participate of that colour
more or less, as it is nearer to, or more remote from the mass of
shadows; and also in proportion to its distance from, or proximity to
the mass of light.

/Chap. CCLII./--_Of the Shadows of White._

/To/ any white body receiving the light from the sun, or the air, the
shadows should be of a blueish cast; because white is no colour, but a
receiver of all colours; and as by the fourth proposition[61] we learn,
that the surface of any object participates of the colours of other
objects near it, it is evident that a white surface will participate of
the colour of the air by which it is surrounded.

/Chap. CCLIII./--_Which of the Colours will produce the darkest Shade._

/That/ shade will be the darkest which is produced by the whitest
surface; this also will have a greater propensity to variety than any
other surface; because white is not properly a colour, but a receiver
of colours, and its surface will participate strongly of the colour of
surrounding objects, but principally of black or any other dark colour,
which being the most opposite to its nature, produces the most sensible
difference between the shadows and the lights.

/Chap. CCLIV./--_How to manage, when a White terminates upon another

/When/ one white body terminates on another of the same colour, the
white of these two bodies will be either alike or not. If they be
alike, that object which of the two is nearest to the eye, should be
made a little darker than the other, upon the rounding of the outline;
but if the object which serves as a ground to the other be not quite so
white, the latter will detach of itself, without the help of any darker

/Chap. CCLV./--_On the Back-grounds of Figures._

/Of/ two objects equally light, one will appear less so if seen upon
a whiter ground; and, on the contrary, it will appear a great deal
lighter if upon a space of a darker shade. So flesh colour will appear
pale upon a red ground, and a pale colour will appear redder upon
a yellow ground. In short, colours will appear what they are not,
according to the ground which surrounds them.

/Chap. CCLVI./--_The Mode of composing History._

/Amongst/ the figures which compose an historical picture, those which
are meant to appear the nearest to the eye, must have the greatest
force; according to the second proposition[62] of the third book, which
says, that colour will be seen in the greatest perfection which has
less air interposed between it and the eye of the beholder; and for
that reason the shadows (by which we express the relievo of bodies)
appear darker when near than when at a distance, being then deadened by
the air which interposes. This does not happen to those shadows which
are near the eye, where they will produce the greatest relievo when
they are darkest.

/Chap. CCLVII./--_Remarks concerning Lights and Shadows._

/Observe/, that where the shadows end, there be always a kind of
half-shadow to blend them with the lights. The shadow derived from any
object will mix more with the light at its termination, in proportion
as it is more distant from that object. But the colour of the shadow
will never be simple: this is proved by the ninth proposition[63],
which says, that the superficies of any object participates of the
colours of other bodies, by which it is surrounded, although it were
transparent, such as water, air, and the like: because the air receives
its light from the sun, and darkness is produced by the privation of
it. But as the air has no colour in itself any more than water, it
receives all the colours that are between the object and the eye. The
vapours mixing with the air in the lower regions near the earth, render
it thick, and apt to reflect the sun's rays on all sides, while the air
above remains dark; and because light (that is, white) and darkness
(that is, black), mixed together, compose the azure that becomes the
colour of the sky, which is lighter or darker in proportion as the air
is more or less mixed with damp vapours.

/Chap. CCLVIII./--_Why the Shadows of Bodies upon a white Wall are
blueish towards Evening._


/The/ shadows of bodies produced by the redness of the setting
sun, will always be blueish. This is accounted for by the eleventh
proposition[64], which says, that the superficies of any opake body
participates of the colour of the object from which it receives the
light; therefore the white wall being deprived entirely of colour, is
tinged by the colour of those bodies from which it receives the light,
which in this case are the sun and the sky. But because the sun is red
towards the evening, and the sky is blue, the shadow on the wall not
being enlightened by the sun, receives only the reflexion of the sky,
and therefore will appear blue; and the rest of the wall, receiving
light immediately from the sun, will participate of its red colour.

/Chap. CCLIX./--_Of the Colour of Faces._

/The/ colour of any object will appear more or less distinct in
proportion to the extent of its surface. This proportion is proved, by
observing that a face appears dark at a small distance, because, being
composed of many small parts, it produces a great number of shadows;
and the lights being the smallest part of it, are soonest lost to the
sight, leaving only the shadows, which being in a greater quantity, the
whole of the face appears dark, and the more so if that face has on the
head, or at the back, something whiter.

/Chap. CCLX./--_A Precept relating to Painting._

/Where/ the shadows terminate upon the lights, observe well what parts
of them are lighter than the others, and where they are more or less
softened and blended; but above all remember, that young people have
no sharp shadings: their flesh is transparent, something like what
we observe when we put our hand between the sun and eyes; it appears
reddish, and of a transparent brightness. If you wish to know what
kind of shadow will suit the flesh colour you are painting, place one
of your fingers close to your picture, so as to cast a shadow upon it,
and according as you wish it either lighter or darker, put it nearer or
farther from it, and imitate it.

/Chap. CCLXI./--_Of Colours in Shadow._

/It/ happens very often that the shadows of an opake body do not retain
the same colour as the lights. Sometimes they will be greenish, while
the lights are reddish, although this opake body be all over of one
uniform colour. This happens when the light falls upon the object (we
will suppose from the East), and tinges that side with its own colour.
In the West we will suppose another opake body of a colour different
from the first, but receiving the same light. This last will reflect
its colour towards the East, and strike the first with its rays on the
opposite side, where they will be stopped, and remain with their full
colour and brightness. We often see a white object with red lights, and
the shades of a blueish cast; this we observe particularly in mountains
covered with snow, at sun-set, when the effulgence of its rays makes
the horizon appear all on fire.

/Chap. CCLXII./--_Of the Choice of Lights._

/Whatever/ object you intend to represent is to be supposed situated
in a particular light, and that entirely of your own choosing. If you
imagine such objects to be in the country, and the sun be overcast,
they will be surrounded by a great quantity of general light. If the
sun strikes upon those objects, then the shadows will be very dark,
in proportion to the lights, and will be determined and sharp; the
primitive as well as the secondary ones. These shadows will vary from
the lights in colour, because on that side the object receives a
reflected light hue from the azure of the air, which tinges that part;
and this is particularly observable in white objects. That side which
receives the light from the sun, participates also of the colour of
that. This may be particularly observed in the evening, when the sun
is setting between the clouds, which it reddens; those clouds being
tinged with the colour of the body illuminating them, the red colour
of the clouds, with that of the sun, casts a hue on those parts which
receive the light from them. On the contrary, those parts which are not
turned towards that side of the sky, remain of the colour of the air,
so that the former and the latter are of two different colours. This
we must not lose sight of, that, knowing the cause of those lights and
shades, it be made apparent in the effect, or else the work will be
false and absurd. But if a figure be situated within a house, and seen
from without, such figure will have its shadows very soft; and if the
beholder stands in the line of the light, it will acquire grace, and do
credit to the painter, as it will have great relief in the lights, and
soft and well-blended shadows, particularly in those parts where the
inside of the room appears less obscure, because there the shadows are
almost imperceptible: the cause of which we shall explain in its proper


/Chap. CCLXIII./--_Of avoiding hard Outlines._

/Do/ not make the boundaries of your figures with any other colour
than that of the back-ground, on which they are placed; that is, avoid
making dark outlines.

/Chap. CCLXIV./--_Of Outlines._

/The/ extremities of objects which are at some distance, are not seen
so distinctly as if they were nearer. Therefore the painter ought to
regulate the strength of his outlines, or extremities, according to the

The boundaries which separate one body from another, are of the nature
of mathematical lines, but not of real lines. The end of any colour
is only the beginning of another, and it ought not to be called a
line, for nothing interposes between them, except the termination of
the one against the other, which being nothing in itself, cannot be
perceivable; therefore the painter ought not to pronounce it in distant

/Chap. CCLXV./--_Of Back-grounds._

/One/ of the principal parts of painting is the nature and quality of
back-grounds, upon which the extremities of any convex or solid body
will always detach and be distinguished in nature, though the colour
of such objects, and that of the ground, be exactly the same. This
happens, because the convex sides of solid bodies do not receive the
light in the same manner with the ground, for such sides or extremities
are often lighter or darker than the ground. But if such extremities
were to be of the same colour as the ground, and in the same degree
of light, they certainly could not be distinguished. Therefore such a
choice in painting ought to be avoided by all intelligent and judicious
painters; since the intention is to make the objects appear as it were
out of the ground. The above case would produce the contrary effect,
not only in painting, but also in objects of real relievo.

/Chap. CCLXVI./--_How to detach Figures from the Ground._

/All/ solid bodies will appear to have a greater relief, and to come
more out of the canvass, on a ground of an undetermined colour, with
the greatest variety of lights and shades against the confines of
such bodies (as will be demonstrated in its place), provided a proper
diminution of lights in the white tints, and of darkness in the shades,
be judiciously observed.

/Chap. CCLXVII./--_Of Uniformity and Variety of Colours upon plain

/The/ back-grounds of any flat surfaces which are uniform in colour and
quantity of light, will never appear separated from each other; _vice
versâ_, they will appear separated if they are of different colours or

/Chap. CCLXVIII./--_Of Back-grounds suitable both to Shadows and

/The/ shadows or lights which surround figures, or any other objects,
will help the more to detach them the more they differ from the
objects; that is, if a dark colour does not terminate upon another dark
colour, but upon a very different one; as white, or partaking of white,
but lowered, and approximated to the dark shade.

/Chap. CCLXIX./--_The apparent Variation of Colours, occasioned by the
Contraste of the Ground upon which they are placed._

/No/ colour appears uniform and equal in all its parts unless it
terminate on a ground of the same colour. This is very apparent when a
black terminates on a white ground, where the contraste of colour gives
more strength and richness to the extremities than to the middle.


/Chap. CCLXX./--_Gradation in Painting._

/What/ is fine is not always beautiful and good: I address this to
such painters as are so attached to the beauty of colours, that they
regret being obliged to give them almost imperceptible shadows, not
considering the beautiful relief which figures acquire by a proper
gradation and strength of shadows. Such persons may be compared to
those speakers who in conversation make use of many fine words without
meaning, which altogether scarcely form one good sentence.

/Chap. CCLXXI./--_How to assort Colours in such a Manner as that they
may add Beauty to each other._

/If/ you mean that the proximity of one colour should give beauty to
another that terminates near it, observe the rays of the sun in the
composition of the rainbow, the colours of which are generated by the
falling rain, when each drop in its descent takes every colour of that
bow, as is demonstrated in its place[65].

If you mean to represent great darkness, it must be done by contrasting
it with great light; on the contrary, if you want to produce great
brightness, you must oppose to it a very dark shade: so a pale yellow
will cause red to appear more beautiful than if opposed to a purple

There is another rule, by observing which, though you do not increase
the natural beauty of the colours, yet by bringing them together they
may give additional grace to each other, as green placed near red,
while the effect would be quite the reverse, if placed near blue.

Harmony and grace are also produced by a judicious arrangement of
colours, such as blue with pale yellow or white, and the like; as will
be noticed in its place.

/Chap. CCLXXII./--_Of detaching the Figures._

/Let/ the colours of which the draperies of your figures are composed,
be such as to form a pleasing variety, to distinguish one from the
other; and although, for the sake of harmony, they should be of the
same nature[66], they must not stick together, but vary in point of
light, according to the distance and interposition of the air between
them. By the same rule, the outlines are to be more precise, or lost,
in proportion to their distance or proximity.

/Chap. CCLXXIII./--_Of the Colour of Reflexes._

/All/ reflected colours are less brilliant and strong, than those which
receive a direct light, in the same proportion as there is between the
light of a body and the cause of that light.

/Chap. CCLXXIV./--_What Body will be the most strongly tinged with the
Colour of any other Object._

/An/ opake surface will partake most of the genuine colour of the body
nearest to it, because a great quantity of the species of colour will
be conveyed to it; whereas such colour would be broken and disturbed if
coming from a more distant object.

/Chap. CCLXXV./--_Of Reflexes._

/Reflexes/ will partake, more or less, both of the colour of the object
which produces them, and of the colour of that object on which they are
produced, in proportion as this latter body is of a smoother or more
polished surface, than that by which they are produced.

/Chap. CCLXXVI./--_Of the Surface of all shadowed Bodies._

/The/ surface of any opake body placed in shadow, will participate of
the colour of any other object which reflects the light upon it. This
is very evident; for if such bodies were deprived of light in the space
between them and the other bodies, they could not shew either shape or
colour. We shall conclude then, that if the opake body be yellow, and
that which reflects the light blue, the part reflected will be green,
because green is composed of blue and yellow.

/Chap. CCLXXVII./--_That no reflected Colour is simple, but is mixed
with the Nature of the other Colours._

/No/ colour reflected upon the surface of another body, will tinge that
surface with its own colour alone, but will be mixed by the concurrence
of other colours also reflected on the same spot. Let us suppose A to
be of a yellow colour, which is reflected on the convex C O E, and that
the blue colour B be reflected on the same place. I say that a mixture
of the blue and yellow colours will tinge the convex surface; and that,
if the ground be white, it will produce a green reflexion, because it
is proved that a mixture of blue and yellow produces a very fine green.


/Chap. CCLXXVIII./--_Of the Colour of Lights and Reflexes._

/When/ two lights strike upon an opake body, they can vary only in
two ways; either they are equal in strength, or they are not. If
they be equal, they may still vary in two other ways, that is, by
the equality or inequality of their brightness; they will be equal,
if their distance be the same; and unequal, if it be otherwise. The
object placed at an equal distance, between two equal lights, in point
both of colour and brightness, may still be enlightened by them in two
different ways, either equally on each side, or unequally. It will be
equally enlightened by them, when the space which remains round the
lights shall be equal in colour, in degree of shade, and in brightness.
It will be unequally enlightened by them when the spaces happen to be
of different degrees of darkness.

/Chap. CCLXXIX./--_Why reflected Colours seldom partake of the Colour
of the Body where they meet._

/It/ happens very seldom that the reflexes are of the same colour with
the body from which they proceed, or with that upon which they meet.
To exemplify this, let the convex body D F G E be of a yellow colour,
and the body B C, which reflects its colour on it, blue; the part of
the convex surface which is struck by that reflected light, will take
a green tinge, being B C, acted on by the natural light of the air, or
the sun.


/Chap. CCLXXX./--_The Reflexes of Flesh Colours._

/The/ lights upon the flesh colours, which are reflected by the light
striking upon another flesh-coloured body, are redder and more lively
than any other part of the human figure; and that happens according
to the third proposition of the second book[67], which says, the
surface of any opake body participates of the colour of the object
which reflects the light, in proportion as it is near to or remote
from it, and also in proportion to the size of it; because, being
large, it prevents the variety of colours in smaller objects round it,
from interfering with, and discomposing the principal colour, which
is nearer. Nevertheless it does not prevent its participating more of
the colour of a small object near it, than of a large one more remote.
See the sixth proposition[68] of perspective, which says, that large
objects may be situated at such a distance as to appear less than small
ones that are near.

/Chap. CCLXXXI./--_Of the Nature of Comparison._

/Black/ draperies will make the flesh of the human figure appear whiter
than in reality it is[69]; and white draperies, on the contrary, will
make it appear darker. Yellow will render it higher coloured, while red
will make it pale.

/Chap. CCLXXXII./--_Where the Reflexes are seen._

/Of/ all reflexions of the same shape, size, and strength, that will be
more or less strong, which terminates on a ground more or less dark.

The surface of those bodies will partake most of the colour of the
object that reflects it, which receive that reflexion by the most
nearly equal angles.

Of the colours of objects reflected upon any opposite surface by equal
angles, that will be the most distinct which has its reflecting ray the

Of all colours, reflected under equal angles, and at equal distance
upon the opposite body, those will be the strongest, which come
reflected by the lightest coloured body.

That object will reflect its own colour most precisely on the opposite
object, which has not round it any colour that clashes with its own;
and consequently that reflected colour will be most confused which
takes its origin from a variety of bodies of different colours.

That colour which is nearest the opposed object, will tinge it the most
strongly; and _vice versâ_: let the painter, therefore, in his reflexes
on the human body, particularly on the flesh colour, mix some of the
colour of the drapery which comes nearest to it; but not pronounce it
too distinctly, if there be not good reason for it.


/Chap. CCLXXXIII./--_A Precept of Perspective in regard to Painting._

/When/, on account of some particular quality of the air, you can no
longer distinguish the difference between the lights and shadows of
objects, you may reject the perspective of shadows, and make use only
of the linear perspective, and the diminution of colours, to lessen the
knowledge of the objects opposed to the eye; and this, that is to say,
the loss of the knowledge of the figure of each object, will make the
same object appear more remote.

The eye can never arrive at a perfect knowledge of the interval between
two objects variously distant, by means of the linear perspective
alone, if not assisted by the perspective of colours.

/Chap. CCLXXXIV./--_Of the Perspective of Colours._

/The/ air will participate less of the azure of the sky, in proportion
as it comes nearer to the horizon, as it is proved by the third and
ninth proposition[70], that pure and subtile bodies (such as compose
the air) will be less illuminated by the sun than those of thicker and
grosser substance: and as it is certain that the air which is remote
from the earth, is thinner than that which is near it, it will follow,
that the latter will be more impregnated with the rays of the sun,
which giving light at the same time to an infinity of atoms floating
in this air, renders it more sensible to the eye. So that the air will
appear lighter towards the horizon, and darker as well as bluer in
looking up to the sky; because there is more of the thick air between
our eyes and the horizon, than between our eyes and that part of the
sky above our heads.


For instance: if the eye placed in P, looks through the air along the
line P R, and then lowers itself a little along P S, the air will begin
to appear a little whiter, because there is more of the thick air in
this space than in the first. And if it be still removed lower, so
as to look straight at the horizon, no more of that blue sky will be
perceived which was observable along the first line P R, because there
is a much greater quantity of thick air along the horizontal line P D,
than along the oblique P S, or the perpendicular P R.

/Chap. CCLXXXV./--_The Cause of the Diminution of Colours._

/The/ natural colour of any visible object will be diminished in
proportion to the density of any other substance which interposes
between that object and the eye.

/Chap. CCLXXXVI./--_Of the Diminution of Colours and Objects._

/Let/ the colours vanish in proportion as the objects diminish in size,
according to the distance.

/Chap. CCLXXXVII./--_Of the Variety observable in Colours, according to
their Distance, or Proximity._

/The/ local colour of such objects as are darker than the air, will
appear less dark as they are more remote; and, on the contrary, objects
lighter than the air will lose their brightness in proportion to their
distance from the eye. In general, all objects that are darker or
lighter than the air, are discoloured by distance, which changes their
quality, so that the lighter appears darker, and the darker lighter.

/Chap. CCLXXXVIII./--_At what Distance Colours are entirely lost._

/Local/ colours are entirely lost at a greater or less distance,
according as the eye and the object are more or less elevated from the
earth. This is proved by the seventh proposition[71], which says, the
air is more or less pure, as it is near to, or remote from the earth.
If the eye then, and the object are near the earth, the thickness of
the air which interposes, will in a great measure confuse the colour of
that object to the eye. But if the eye and the object are placed high
above the earth, the air will disturb the natural colour of that object
very little. In short, the various gradations of colour depend not only
on the various distances, in which they may be lost; but also on the
variety of lights, which change according to the different hours of the
day, and the thickness or purity of the air, through which the colour
of the object is conveyed to the eye.

/Chap. CCLXXXIX./--_Of the Change observable in the same Colour,
according to its Distance from the Eye._

/Among/ several colours of the same nature, that which is the nearest
to the eye will alter the least; because the air which interposes
between the eye and the object seen, envelopes, in some measure, that
object. If the air, which interposes, be in great quantity, the object
seen will be strongly tinged with the colour of that air; but if the
air be thin, then the view of that object, and its colour, will be very
little obstructed.

/Chap. CCXC./--_Of the blueish Appearance of remote Objects in a

/Whatever/ be the colour of distant objects, the darkest, whether
natural or accidental, will appear the most tinged with azure. By
the natural darkness is meant the proper colour of the object; the
accidental one is produced by the shadow of some other body.

/Chap. CCXCI./--_Of the Qualities in the Surface which first lose
themselves by Distance._

/The/ first part of any colour which is lost by the distance, is the
gloss, being the smallest part of it, as a light within a light. The
second that diminishes by being farther removed, is the light, because
it is less in quantity than the shadow. The third is the principal
shadows, nothing remaining at last but a kind of middling obscurity.

/Chap. CCXCII./--_From what Cause the Azure of the Air proceeds._

/The/ azure of the sky is produced by the transparent body of the
air, illumined by the sun, and interposed between the darkness of the
expanse above, and the earth below. The air in itself has no quality
of smell, taste, or colour, but is easily impregnated with the quality
of other matter surrounding it; and will appear bluer in proportion to
the darkness of the space behind it, as may be observed against the
shady sides of mountains, which are darker than any other object. In
this instance the air appears of the most beautiful azure, while on the
other side that receives the light, it shews through that more of the
natural colour of the mountain.

/Chap. CCXCIII./--_Of the Perspective of Colours._

/The/ same colour being placed at various distances and equal
elevation, the force and effect of its colouring will be according
to the proportion of the distance which there is from each of these
colours to the eye. It is proved thus: let C B E D be one and the same
colour. The first, E, is placed at two degrees of distance from the eye
A; the second, B, shall be four degrees, the third, C, six degrees,
and the fourth, D, eight degrees; as appears by the circles which
terminate upon and intersect the line A R. Let us suppose that the
space A R, S P, is one degree of thin air, and S P E T another degree
of thicker air. It will follow, that the first colour, E, will pass
to the eye through one degree of thick air, E S, and through another
degree, S A, of thinner air. And B will send its colour to the eye in
A, through two degrees of thick air, and through two others of the
thinner sort. C will send it through three degrees of the thin, and
three of the thick sort, while D goes through four degrees of the one,
and four of the other. This demonstrates, that the gradation of colours
is in proportion to their distance from the eye[72]. But this happens
only to those colours which are on a level with the eye; as for those
which happen to be at unequal elevations, we cannot observe the same
rule, because they are in that case situated in different qualities of
air, which alter and diminish these colours in various manners.


/Chap. CCXCIV./--_Of the Perspective of Colours in dark Places._

/In/ any place where the light diminishes in a gradual proportion till
it terminates in total darkness, the colours also will lose themselves
and be dissolved in proportion as they recede from the eye.

/Chap. CCXCV./--_Of the Perspective of Colours._

/The/ principal colours, or those nearest to the eye, should be pure
and simple; and the degree of their diminution should be in proportion
to their distance, viz. the nearer they are to the principal point, the
more they will possess of the purity of those colours, and they will
partake of the colour of the horizon in proportion as they approach to

/Chap. CCXCVI./--_Of Colours._

/Of/ all the colours which are not blue, those that are nearest to
black will, when distant, partake most of the azure; and, on the
contrary, those will preserve their proper colour at the greatest
distance, that are most dissimilar to black.

The green therefore of the fields will change sooner into blue than
yellow, or white, which will preserve their natural colour at a greater
distance than that, or even red.

/Chap. CCXCVII./--_How it happens that Colours do not change, though
placed in different Qualities of Air._

/The/ colour will not be subject to any alteration when the distance
and the quality of air have a reciprocal proportion. What it loses by
the distance it regains by the purity of the air, viz. if we suppose
the first or lowest air to have four degrees of thickness, and the
colour to be at one degree from the eye, and the second air above to
have three degrees. The air having lost one degree of thickness, the
colour will acquire one degree upon the distance. And when the air
still higher shall have lost two degrees of thickness, the colour will
acquire as many upon the distance; and in that case the colour will be
the same at three degrees as at one. But to be brief, if the colour be
raised so high as to enter that quality of air which has lost three
degrees of thickness, and acquired three degrees of distance, then you
may be certain that that colour which is high and remote, has lost
no more than the colour which is below and nearer; because in rising
it has acquired those three degrees which it was losing by the same
distance from the eye; and this is what was meant to be proved.

/Chap. CCXCVIII./--_Why Colours experience no apparent Change, though
placed in different Qualities of Air._


/It/ may happen that a colour does not alter, though placed at
different distances, when the thickness of the air and the distance
are in the same inverse proportion. It is proved thus: let A be the
eye, and H any colour whatever, placed at one degree of distance
from the eye, in a quality of air of four degrees of thickness; but
because the second degree above, A M N L, contains a thinner air by
one half, which air conveys this colour, it follows that this colour
will appear as if removed double the distance it was at before, viz.
at two degrees of distance, A F and F G, from the eye; and it will be
placed in G. If that is raised to the second degree of air A M N L, and
to the degree O M, P N, it will necessarily be placed at E, and will
be removed from the eye the whole length of the line A E, which will
be proved in this manner to be equal in thickness to the distance A G.
If in the same quality of air the distance A G interposed between the
eye and the colour occupies two degrees, and A E occupies two degrees
and a half, it is sufficient to preserve the colour G, when raised to
E, from any change, because the degree A C and the degree A F being
the same in thickness, are equal and alike, and the degree C D, though
equal in length to the degree F G, is not alike in point of thickness
of air; because half of it is situated in a degree of air of double the
thickness of the air above: this half degree of distance occupies as
much of the colour as one whole degree of the air above would, which
air above is twice as thin as the air below, with which it terminates;
so that by calculating the thickness of the air, and the distances,
you will find that the colours have changed places without undergoing
any alteration in their beauty. And we shall prove it thus: reckoning
first the thickness of air, the colour H is placed in four degrees of
thickness, the colour G in two degrees, and E at one degree. Now let
us see whether the distances are in an equal inverse proportion; the
colour E is at two degrees and a half of distance, G at two degrees,
and H at one degree. But as this distance has not an exact proportion
with the thickness of air, it is necessary to make a third calculation
in this manner: A C is perfectly like and equal to A F; the half
degree, C B, is like but not equal to A F, because it is only half a
degree in length, which is equal to a whole degree of the quality of
the air above; so that by this calculation we shall solve the question.
For A C is equal to two degrees of thickness of the air above, and the
half degree C B is equal to a whole degree of the same air above; and
one degree more is to be taken in, viz. B E, which makes the fourth.
A H has four degrees of thickness of air, A G also four, viz. A F two
in value, and F G also two, which taken together make four. A E has
also four, because A C contains two, and C D one, which is the half
of A C, and in the same quality of air; and there is a whole degree
above in the thin air, which all together make four. So that if A E is
not double the distance A G, nor four times the distance A H, it is
made equivalent by the half degree C B of thick air, which is equal
to a whole degree of thin air above. This proves the truth of the
proposition, that the colour H G E does not undergo any alteration by
these different distances.

/Chap. CCXCIX./--_Contrary Opinions in regard to Objects seen afar off._

/Many/ painters will represent the objects darker, in proportion as
they are removed from the eye; but this cannot be true, unless the
objects seen be white; as shall be examined in the next chapter.

/Chap. CCC./--_Of the Colour of Objects remote from the Eye._

/The/ air tinges objects with its own colour more or less in proportion
to the quantity of intervening air between it and the eye, so that a
dark object at the distance of two miles (or a density of air equal to
such distance), will be more tinged with its colour than if only one
mile distant.

It is said, that, in a landscape, trees of the same species appear
darker in the distance than near; this cannot be true, if they be of
equal size, and divided by equal spaces. But it will be so if the
first trees are scattered, and the light of the fields is seen through
and between them, while the others which are farther off, are thick
together, as is often the case near some river or other piece of water:
in this case no space of light fields can be perceived, but the trees
appear thick together, accumulating the shadow on each other. It also
happens, that as the shady parts of plants are much broader than the
light ones, the colour of the plants becoming darker by the multiplied
shadows, is preserved, and conveyed to the eye more strongly than that
of the other parts; these masses, therefore, will carry the strongest
parts of their colour to a greater distance.

/Chap. CCCI./--_Of the Colour of Mountains._

/The/ darker the mountain is in itself, the bluer it will appear at a
great distance. The highest part will be the darkest, as being more
woody; because woods cover a great many shrubs, and other plants,
which never receive any light. The wild plants of those woods are also
naturally of a darker hue than cultivated plants; for oak, beech, fir,
cypress, and pine trees are much darker than olive and other domestic
plants. Near the top of these mountains, where the air is thinner and
purer, the darkness of the woods will make it appear of a deeper azure,
than at the bottom, where the air is thicker. A plant will detach very
little from the ground it stands upon, if that ground be of a colour
something similar to its own; and, _vice versâ_, that part of any white
object which is nearest to a dark one, will appear the whitest, and
the less so as it is removed from it; and any dark object will appear
darker, the nearer it is to a white one; and less so, if removed from

/Chap. CCCII./--_Why the Colour and Shape of Objects are lost in some
Situations apparently dark, though not so in Reality._

/There/ are some situations which, though light, appear dark, and in
which objects are deprived both of form and colour. This is caused by
the great light which pervades the intervening air; as is observable by
looking in through a window at some distance from the eye, when nothing
is seen but an uniform darkish shade; but if we enter the house, we
shall find that room to be full of light, and soon distinguish every
small object contained within that window. This difference of effect
is produced by the great brightness of the air, which contracts
considerably the pupil of the eye, and by so doing diminishes its
power. But in dark places the pupil is enlarged, and acquires as much
in strength, as it increases in size. This is proved in my second
proposition of perspective[73].

/Chap. CCCIII./--_Various Precepts in Painting._

/The/ termination and shape of the parts in general are very little
seen, either in great masses of light, or of shadows; but those which
are situated between the extremes of light and shade are the most

Perspective, as far as it extends in regard to painting, is divided
into three principal parts; the first consists in the diminution of
size, according to distance; the second concerns the diminution of
colours in such objects; and the third treats of the diminution of the
perception altogether of those objects, and of the degree of precision
they ought to exhibit at various distances.

The azure of the sky is produced by a mixture composed of light and
darkness[74]; I say of light, because of the moist particles floating
in the air, which reflect the light. By darkness, I mean the pure air,
which has none of these extraneous particles to stop and reflect the
rays. Of this we see an example in the air interposed between the eye
and some dark mountains, rendered so by the shadows of an innumerable
quantity of trees; or else shaded on one side by the natural privation
of the rays of the sun; this air becomes azure, but not so on the side
of the mountain which is light, particularly when it is covered with

Among objects of equal darkness and equal distance, those will appear
darker that terminate upon a lighter ground, and _vice versâ_[75].

That object which is painted with the most white and the most black,
will shew greater relief than any other; for that reason I would
recommend to painters to colour and dress their figures with the
brightest and most lively colours; for if they are painted of a dull
or obscure colour, they will detach but little, and not be much seen,
when the picture is placed at some distance; because the colour of
every object is obscured in the shades; and if it be represented as
originally so all over, there will be but little difference between
the lights and the shades, while lively colours will shew a striking


/Chap. CCCIV./--_Aerial Perspective._

/There/ is another kind of perspective called aerial, because by the
difference of the air it is easy to determine the distance of different
objects, though seen on the same line; such, for instance, as buildings
behind a wall, and appearing all of the same height above it. If in
your picture you want to have one appear more distant than another, you
must first suppose the air somewhat thick, because, as we have said
before, in such a kind of air the objects seen at a great distance,
as mountains are, appear blueish like the air, by means of the great
quantity of air that interposes between the eye and such mountains.
You will then paint the first building behind that wall of its proper
colour; the next in point of distance, less distinct in the outline,
and participating, in a greater degree, of the blueish colour of the
air; another which you wish to send off as much farther, should be
painted as much bluer; and if you wish one of them to appear five times
farther removed beyond the wall, it must have five times more of the
azure. By this rule these buildings which appeared all of the same
size, and upon the same line, will be distinctly perceived to be of
different dimensions, and at different distances.

/Chap. CCCV./--_The Parts of the Smallest Objects will first disappear
in Painting._

/Of/ objects receding from the eye the smallest will be the first lost
to the sight; from which it follows, that the largest will be the last
to disappear. The painter, therefore, ought not to finish the parts of
those objects which are very far off, but follow the rule given in the
sixth book[76].

How many, in the representation of towns, and other objects remote
from the eye, express every part of the buildings in the same manner
as if they were very near. It is not so in nature, because there is no
sight so powerful as to perceive distinctly at any great distance the
precise form of parts or extremities of objects. The painter therefore
who pronounces the outlines, and the minute distinction of parts, as
several have done, will not give the representation of distant objects,
but by this error will make them appear exceedingly near. Again, the
angles of buildings in distant towns are not to be expressed (for they
cannot be seen), considering that angles are formed by the concurrence
of two lines into one point, and that a point has no parts; it is
therefore invisible.

/Chap. CCCVI./--_Small Figures ought not to be too much finished._

/Objects/ appear smaller than they really are when they are distant
from the eye, and because there is a great deal of air interposed,
which weakens the appearance of forms, and, by a natural consequence,
prevents our seeing distinctly the minute parts of such objects. It
behoves the painter therefore to touch those parts slightly, in an
unfinished manner; otherwise it would be against the effect of Nature,
whom he has chosen for his guide. For, as we said before, objects
appear small on account of their great distance from the eye; that
distance includes a great quantity of air, which, forming a dense body,
obstructs the light, and prevents our seeing the minute parts of the

/Chap. CCCVII./--_Why the Air is to appear whiter as it approaches
nearer to the Earth._

/As/ the air is thicker nearer the earth, and becomes thinner as it
rises, look, when the sun is in the east, towards the west, between the
north and south, and you will perceive that the thickest and lowest air
will receive more light from the sun than the thinner air, because its
beams meet with more resistance.

If the sky terminate low, at the end of a plain, that part of it
nearest to the horizon, being seen only through the thick air, will
alter and break its natural colour, and will appear whiter than over
your head, where the visual ray does not pass through so much of that
gross air, corrupted by earthy vapours. But if you turn towards the
east, the air will be darker the nearer it approaches the earth; for
the air being thicker, does not admit the light of the sun to pass so

/Chap. CCCVIII./--_How to paint the distant Part of a Landscape._

/It/ is evident that the air is in some parts thicker and grosser than
in others, particularly that nearest to the earth; and as it rises
higher, it becomes thinner and more transparent. The objects which
are high and large, from which you are at some distance, will be less
apparent in the lower parts; because the visual ray which perceives
them, passes through a long space of dense air; and it is easy to prove
that the upper parts are seen by a line, which, though on the side of
the eye it originates in a thick air, nevertheless, as it ascends to
the highest summit of its object, terminates in an air much thinner
than that of the lower parts; and for that reason the more that line
or visual ray advances from the eye, it becomes, in its progress
from one point to another, thinner and thinner, passing from a pure
air into another which is purer; so that a painter who has mountains
to represent in a landscape, ought to observe, that from one hill
to another, the tops will appear always clearer than the bases. In
proportion as the distance from one to another is greater, the top will
be clearer; and the higher they are, the more they will shew their
variety of form and colour.

/Chap. CCCIX./--_Of precise and confused Objects._

/The/ parts that are near in the fore-ground should be finished in a
bold determined manner; but those in the distance must be unfinished,
and confused in their outlines.

/Chap. CCCX./--_Of distant Objects._

/That/ part of any object which is nearest to the luminary from which
it receives the light, will be the lightest.

The representation of an object in every degree of distance, loses
degrees of its strength; that is, in proportion as the object is more
remote from the eye it will be less perceivable through the air in its

/Chap. CCCXI./--_Of Buildings seen in a thick Air._


/That/ part of a building seen through a thick air, will appear less
distinct than another part seen through a thinner air. Therefore the
eye, N, looking at the tower A D, will see it more confusedly in the
lower degrees, but at the same time lighter; and as it ascends to the
other degrees it will appear more distinct, but somewhat darker.

/Chap. CCCXII./--_Of Towns and other Objects seen through a thick Air._


/Buildings/ or towns seen through a fog, or the air made thick by
smoke or other vapours, will appear less distinct the lower they
are; and, _vice versâ_, they will be sharper and more visible in
proportion as they are higher. We have said, in Chapter cccxxi. that
the air is thicker the lower it is, and thinner as it is higher. It is
demonstrated also by the cut, where the tower, A F, is seen by the eye
N, in a thick air, from B to F, which is divided into four degrees,
growing thicker as they are nearer the bottom. The less the quantity of
air interposed between the eye and its object is, the less also will
the colour of the object participate of the colour of that air. It
follows, that the greater the quantity of the air interposed between
the eye and the object seen, is, the more this object will participate
of the colour of the air. It is demonstrated thus: N being the eye
looking at the five parts of the tower A F, viz. A B C D E, I say,
that if the air were of the same thickness, there would be the same
proportion between the colour of the air at the bottom of the tower and
the colour of the air that the same tower has at the place B, as there
is in length between the line M and F. As, however, we have supposed
that the air is not of equal thickness, but, on the contrary, thicker
as it is lower, it follows, that the proportion by which the air tinges
the different elevations of the tower B C F, exceeds the proportion
of the lines; because the line M F, besides its being longer than the
line S B, passes by unequal degrees through a quality of air which is
unequal in thickness.

/Chap. CCCXIII./--_Of the inferior Extremities of distant Objects._

/The/ inferior or lower extremities of distant objects are not so
apparent as the upper extremities. This is observable in mountains
and hills, the tops of which detach from the sides of other mountains
behind. We see the tops of these more determined and distinctly than
their bases; because the upper extremities are darker, being less
encompassed by thick air, which always remains in the lower regions,
and makes them appear dim and confused. It is the same with trees,
buildings, and other objects high up. From this effect it often happens
that a high tower, seen at a great distance, will appear broad at top,
and narrow at bottom; because the thin air towards the top does not
prevent the angles on the sides and other different parts of the tower
from being seen, as the thick air does at bottom. This is demonstrated
by the seventh proposition[77], which says, that the thick air
interposed between the eye and the sun, is lighter below than above,
and where the air is whiteish, it confuses the dark objects more than if
such air were blueish or thinner, as it is higher up. The battlements
of a fortress have the spaces between equal to the breadth of the
battlement, and yet the space will appear wider; at a great distance
the battlements will appear very much diminished, and being removed
still farther, will disappear entirely, and the fort shew only the
straight wall, as if there were no battlements.

/Chap. CCCXIV./--_Which Parts of Objects disappear first by being
removed farther from the Eye, and which preserve their Appearance._

/The/ smallest parts are those which, by being removed, lose their
appearance first; this may be observed in the gloss upon spherical
bodies, or columns, and the slender parts of animals; as in a stag,
the first sight of which does not discover its legs and horns so soon
as its body, which, being broader, will be perceived from a greater
distance. But the parts which disappear the very first, are the lines
which describe the members, and terminate the surface and shape of

/Chap. CCCXV./--_Why Objects are less distinguished in proportion as
they are farther removed from the Eye._

/This/ happens because the smallest parts are lost first; the second,
in point of size, are also lost at a somewhat greater distance, and so
on successively; the parts by degrees melting away, the perception of
the object is diminished; and at last all the parts, and the whole, are
entirely lost to the sight[78]. Colours also disappear on account of
the density of the air interposed between the eye and the object.

/Chap. CCCXVI./--_Why Faces appear dark at a Distance._

/It/ is evident that the similitude of all objects placed before us,
large as well as small, is perceptible to our senses through the iris
of the eye. If through so small an entrance the immensity of the sky
and of the earth is admitted, the faces of men (which are scarcely any
thing in comparison of such large objects), being still diminished by
the distance, will occupy so little of the eye, that they become almost
imperceptible. Besides, having to pass through a dark medium from the
surface to the _Retina_ in the inside, where the impression is made,
the colour of faces (not being very strong, and rendered still more
obscure by the darkness of the tube) when arrived at the focus appears
dark. No other reason can be given on that point, except that the speck
in the middle of the apple of the eye is black, and, being full of a
transparent fluid like air, performs the same office as a hole in a
board, which on looking into it appears black; and that those things
which are seen through both a light and dark air, become confused and

/Chap. CCCXVII./--_Of Towns and other Buildings seen through a Fog in
the Morning or Evening._

/Buildings/ seen afar off in the morning or in the evening, when there
is a fog, or thick air, shew only those parts distinctly which are
enlightened by the sun towards the horizon; and the parts of those
buildings which are not turned towards the sun remain confused and
almost of the colour of the fog.

/Chap. CCCXVIII./--_Of the Height of Buildings seen in a Fog._

/Of/ a building near the eye the top parts will appear more confused
than the bottom, because there is more fog between the eye and the top
than at the base. And a square tower, seen at a great distance through
a fog, will appear narrower at the base than at the summit. This is
accounted for in Chapter cccxiii. which says, that the fog will appear
whiter and thicker as it approaches the ground; and as it is said
before[79], that a dark object will appear smaller in proportion as it
is placed on a whiter ground. Therefore the fog being whiter at bottom
than at top, it follows that the tower (being darkish) will appear
narrower at the base than at the summit.

/Chap. CCCXIX./--_Why Objects which are high, appear darker at a
Distance than those which are low, though the Fog be uniform, and of
equal Thickness._

/Amongst/ objects situated in a fog, thick air, vapour, smoke, or at
a distance, the highest will be the most distinctly seen: and amongst
objects equal in height, that placed in the darkest fog, will be most
confused and dark. As it happens to the eye H, looking at A B C, three
towers of equal height; it sees the top C as low as R, in two degrees
of thickness; and the top B, in one degree only; therefore the top C
will appear darker than the top of the tower B.


/Chap. CCCXX./--_Of Objects seen in a Fog._

/Objects/ seen through a fog will appear larger than they are in
reality, because the aerial perspective does not agree with the linear,
viz. the colour does not agree with the magnitude of the object[80];
such a fog being similar to the thickness of air interposed between the
eye and the horizon in fine weather. But in this case the fog is near
the eye, and though the object be also near, it makes it appear as if
it were as far off as the horizon; where a great tower would appear no
bigger than a man placed near the eye.

/Chap. CCCXXI./--_Of those Objects which the Eyes perceive through a
Mist or thick Air._

/The/ nearer the air is to water, or to the ground, the thicker it
becomes. It is proved by the nineteenth proposition of the second
book[81], that bodies rise in proportion to their weight; and it
follows, that a light body will rise higher than another which is heavy.

/Chap. CCCXXII./--_Miscellaneous Observations._

/Of/ different objects equal in magnitude, form, shade, and distance
from the eye, those will appear the smaller that are placed on the
lighter ground. This is exemplified by observing the sun when seen
behind a tree without leaves; all the ramifications seen against that
great light are so diminished that they remain almost invisible. The
same may be observed of a pole placed between the sun and the eye.

Parallel bodies placed upright, and seen through a fog, will
appear larger at top than at bottom. This is proved by the ninth
proposition[82], which says, that a fog, or thick air, penetrated by
the rays of the sun, will appear whiter the lower they are.

Things seen afar off will appear out of proportion, because the parts
which are the lightest will send their image with stronger rays than
the parts which are darkest. I have seen a woman dressed in black,
with a white veil over her head, which appeared twice as large as her
shoulders covered with black.



/Chap. CCCXXIII./--_Of Objects seen at a Distance._

/Any/ dark object will appear lighter when removed to some distance
from the eye. It follows, by the contrary reason, that a dark object
will appear still darker when brought nearer to the eye. Therefore the
inferior parts of any object whatever, placed in thick air, will appear
farther from the eye at the bottom than at the top; for that reason the
lower parts of a mountain appear farther off than its top, which is in
reality the farthest.

/Chap. CCCXXIV./--_Of a Town seen through a thick Air._

/The/ eye which, looking downwards, sees a town immersed in very thick
air, will perceive the top of the buildings darker, but more distinct
than the bottom. The tops detach against a light ground, because they
are seen against the low and thick air which is beyond them. This is a
consequence of what has been explained in the preceding chapter.

/Chap. CCCXXV./--_How to draw a Landscape._

/Contrive/ that the trees in your landscape be half in shadow and half
in the light. It is better to represent them as when the sun is veiled
with thin clouds, because in that case the trees receive a general
light from the sky, and are darkest in those parts which are nearest to
the earth.

/Chap. CCCXXVI./--_Of the Green of the Country._

/Of/ the greens seen in the country, that of trees and other plants
will appear darker than that of fields and meadows, though they may
happen to be of the same quality.

/Chap. CCCXXVII./--_What Greens will appear most of a blueish Cast._

/Those/ greens will appear to approach nearest to blue which are
of the darkest shade when remote. This is proved by the seventh
proposition[83], which says, that blue is composed of black and white
seen at a great distance.

/Chap. CCCXXVIII./--_The Colour of the Sea from different Aspects._

/When/ the sea is a little ruffled it has no sameness of colour; for
whoever looks at it from the shore, will see it of a dark colour, in a
greater degree as it approaches towards the horizon, and will perceive
also certain lights moving slowly on the surface like a flock of sheep.
Whoever looks at the sea from on board a ship, at a distance from the
land, sees it blue. Near the shore it appears darkish, on account of
the colour of the earth reflected by the water, as in a looking-glass;
but at sea the azure of the air is reflected to the eye by the waves in
the same manner.

/Chap. CCCXXIX./--_Why the same Prospect appears larger at some Times
than at others._

/Objects/ in the country appear sometimes larger and sometimes smaller
than they actually are, from the circumstance of the air interposed
between the eye and the horizon, happening to be either thicker or
thinner than usual.

Of two horizons equally distant from the eye, that which is seen
through the thicker air will appear farther removed; and the other will
seem nearer, being seen through a thinner air.

Objects of unequal size, but equally distant, will appear equal if the
air which is between them and the eye be of proportionable inequality
of thickness, viz. if the thickest air be interposed between the eye
and the smallest of the objects. This is proved by the perspective of
colours[84], which is so deceitful that a mountain which would appear
small by the compasses, will seem larger than a small hill near the
eye; as a finger placed near the eye will cover a large mountain far

/Chap. CCCXXX./--_Of Smoke._

/Smoke/ is more transparent, though darker towards the extremities of
its waves than in the middle.

It moves in a more oblique direction in proportion to the force of the
wind which impels it.

Different kinds of smoke vary in colour, as the causes that produce
them are various.

Smoke never produces determined shadows, and the extremities are lost
as they recede from their primary cause. Objects behind it are less
apparent in proportion to the thickness of the smoke. It is whiter
nearer its origin, and bluer towards its termination.

Fire appears darker, the more smoke there is interposed between it and
the eye.

Where smoke is farther distant, the objects are less confused by it.

It encumbers and dims all the landscape like a fog. Smoke is seen to
issue from different places, with flames at the origin, and the most
dense part of it. The tops of mountains will be more seen than the
lower parts, as in a fog.

/Chap. CCCXXXI./--_In what Part Smoke is lightest._

/Smoke/ which is seen between the sun and the eye will be lighter and
more transparent than any other in the landscape. The same is observed
of dust, and of fog; while, if you place yourself between the sun and
those objects, they will appear dark.

/Chap. CCCXXXII./--_Of the Sun-beams passing through the Openings of

/The/ sun-beams which penetrate the openings interposed between clouds
of various density and form, illuminate all the places over which they
pass, and tinge with their own colour all the dark places that are
behind: which dark places are only seen in the intervals between the

/Chap. CCCXXXIII./--_Of the Beginning of Rain._

/When/ the rain begins to fall, it tarnishes and darkens the air,
giving it a dull colour, but receives still on one side a faint light
from the sun, and is shaded on the other side, as we observe in clouds;
till at last it darkens also the earth, depriving it entirely of the
light of the sun. Objects seen through the rain appear confused and of
undetermined shape, but those which are near will be more distinct. It
is observable, that on the side where the rain is shaded, objects will
be more clearly distinguished than where it receives the light; because
on the shady side they lose only their principal lights, whilst on
the other they lose both their lights and shadows, the lights mixing
with the light part of the rain, and the shadows are also considerably
weakened by it.

/Chap. CCCXXXIV./--_The Seasons are to be observed._

/In/ Autumn you will represent the objects according as it is more or
less advanced. At the beginning of it the leaves of the oldest branches
only begin to fade, more or less, however, according as the plant is
situated in a fertile or barren country; and do not imitate those who
represent trees of every kind (though at equal distance) with the same
quality of green. Endeavour to vary the colour of meadows, stones,
trunks of trees, and all other objects, as much as possible, for Nature
abounds in variety _ad infinitum_.

/Chap. CCCXXXV./--_The Difference of Climates to be observed._

/Near/ the sea-shore, and in southern parts, you will be careful not to
represent the Winter season by the appearance of trees and fields, as
you would do in places more inland, and in northern countries, except
when these are covered with ever-greens, which shoot afresh all the
year round.

/Chap. CCCXXXVI./--_Of Dust._

/Dust/ becomes lighter the higher it rises, and appears darker the less
it is raised, when it is seen between the eye and the sun.

/Chap. CCCXXXVII./--_How to represent the Wind._

/In/ representing the effect of the wind, besides the bending of trees,
and leaves twisting the wrong side upwards, you will also express the
small dust whirling upwards till it mixes in a confused manner with the

/Chap. CCCXXXVIII./--_Of a Wilderness._

/Those/ trees and shrubs which are by their nature more loaded with
small branches, ought to be touched smartly in the shadows, but those
which have larger foliage, will cause broader shadows.

/Chap. CCCXXXIX./--_Of the Horizon seen in the Water._

/By/ the sixth proposition[85], the horizon will be seen in the water
as in a looking-glass, on that side which is opposite the eye. And
if the painter has to represent a spot covered with water, let him
remember that the colour of it cannot be either lighter or darker than
that of the neighbouring objects.

/Chap. CCCXL./--_Of the Shadow of Bridges on the Surface of the Water._

/The/ shadows of bridges can never be seen on the surface of the water,
unless it should have lost its transparent and reflecting quality,
and become troubled and muddy; because clear water being polished and
smooth on its surface, the image of the bridge is formed in it as in
a looking-glass, and reflected in all the points situated between the
eye and the bridge at equal angles; and even the air is seen under the
arches. These circumstances cannot happen when the water is muddy,
because it does not reflect the objects any longer, but receives the
shadow of the bridge in the same manner as a dusty road would receive

/Chap. CCCXLI./--_How a Painter ought to put in Practice the
Perspective of Colours._

/To/ put in practice that perspective which teaches the alteration, the
lessening, and even the entire loss of the very essence of colours,
you must take some points in the country at the distance of about
sixty-five yards[86] from each other; as trees, men, or some other
remarkable objects. In regard to the first tree, you will take a glass,
and having fixed that well, and also your eye, draw upon it, with the
greatest accuracy, the tree you see through it; then put it a little
on one side, and compare it closely with the natural one, and colour
it, so that in shape and colour it may resemble the original, and that
by shutting one eye they may both appear painted, and at the same
distance. The same rule may be applied to the second and third tree
at the distance you have fixed. These studies will be very useful if
managed with judgment, where they may be wanted in the offscape of a
picture. I have observed that the second tree is less by four fifths
than the first, at the distance of thirteen yards.

/Chap. CCCXLII./--_Various Precepts in Painting._

/The/ superficies of any opake body participates of the colour of the
transparent medium interposed between the eye and such body, in a
greater or less degree, in proportion to the density of such medium and
the space it occupies.

The outlines of opake bodies will be less apparent in proportion as
those bodies are farther distant from the eye.

That part of the opake body will be the most shaded, or lightest, which
is nearest to the body that shades it, or gives it light.

The surface of any opake body participates more or less of the colour
of that body which gives it light, in proportion as the latter is more
or less remote, or more or less strong.

Objects seen between lights and shadows will appear to have greater
relievo than those which are placed wholly in the light, or wholly in

When you give strength and precision to objects seen at a great
distance, they will appear as if they were very near. Endeavour that
your imitation be such as to give a just idea of distances. If the
object in nature appear confused in the outlines, let the same be
observed in your picture.

The outlines of distant objects appear undetermined and confused,
for two reasons: the first is, that they come to the eye by so small
an angle, and are therefore so much diminished, that they strike the
sight no more than small objects do, which though near can hardly be
distinguished, such as the nails of the fingers, insects, and other
similar things: the second is, that between the eye and the distant
objects there is so much air interposed, that it becomes thick; and,
like a veil, tinges the shadows with its own whiteness, and turns them
from a dark colour to another between black and white, such as azure.

Although, by reason of the great distance, the appearance of many
things is lost, yet those things which receive the light from the sun
will be more discernible, while the rest remain enveloped in confused
shadows. And because the air is thicker near the ground, the things
which are lower will appear confused; and _vice versâ_.

When the sun tinges the clouds on the horizon with red, those objects
which, on account of their distance, appear blueish, will participate
of that redness, and will produce a mixture between the azure and red,
which renders the prospect lively and pleasant; all the opake bodies
which receive that light will appear distinct, and of a reddish colour,
and the air, being transparent, will be impregnated with it, and appear
of the colour of lilies[87].

The air which is between the earth and the sun when it rises or sets,
will always dim the objects it surrounds, more than the air any where
else, because it is whiter.

It is not necessary to mark strongly the outlines of any object which
is placed upon another. It ought to detach of itself.

If the outline or extremity of a white and curved surface terminate
upon another white body, it will have a shade at that extremity, darker
than any part of the light; but if against a dark object, such outline,
or extremity, will be lighter than any part of the light.

Those objects which are most different in colour, will appear the most
detached from each other.

Those parts of objects which first disappear in the distance, are
extremities similar in colour, and ending one upon the other, as the
extremities of an oak tree upon another oak similar to it. The next to
disappear at a greater distance are, objects of mixed colours, when
they terminate one upon the other, as trees, ploughed fields, walls,
heaps of rubbish, or of stones. The last extremities of bodies that
vanish are those which, being light, terminate upon a dark ground; or
being dark, upon a light ground.

Of objects situated above the eye, at equal heights, the farthest
removed from the eye will appear the lowest; and if situated below
the eye, the nearest to it will appear the lowest. The parallel lines
situated sidewise will concur to one point[88].

Those objects which are near a river, or a lake, in the distant part of
a landscape, are less apparent and distinct than those that are remote
from them.

Of bodies of equal density, those that are nearest to the eye will
appear thinnest, and the most remote thickest.

A large eye-ball will see objects larger than a small one. The
experiment may be made by looking at any of the celestial bodies,
through a pin-hole, which being capable of admitting but a portion
of its light, it seems to diminish and lose of its size in the same
proportion as the pin-hole is smaller than the usual apparent size of
the object.

A thick air interposed between the eye and any object, will render the
outlines of such object undetermined and confused, and make it appear
of a larger size than it is in reality; because the linear perspective
does not diminish the angle which conveys the object to the eye. The
aerial perspective carries it farther off, so that the one removes it
from the eye, while the other preserves its magnitude[89].

When the sun is in the West the vapours of the earth fall down again
and thicken the air, so that objects not enlightened by the sun remain
dark and confused, but those which receive its light will be tinged
yellow and red, according to the sun's appearance on the horizon.
Again, those that receive its light are very distinct, particularly
public buildings and houses in towns and villages, because their
shadows are dark, and it seems as if those parts which are plainly seen
were coming out of confused and undetermined foundations, because at
that time every thing is of one and the same colour, except what is
enlightened by the sun[90].

Any object receiving the light from the sun, receives also the general
light; so that two kinds of shadows are produced: the darkest of the
two is that which happens to have its central line directed towards the
centre of the sun. The central lines of the primitive and secondary
lights are the same as the central lines of the primitive and secondary

The setting sun is a beautiful and magnificent object when it tinges
with its colour all the great buildings of towns, villages, and the top
of high trees in the country. All below is confused and almost lost in
a tender and general mass; for, being only enlightened by the air, the
difference between the shadows and the lights is small, and for that
reason it is not much detached. But those that are high are touched
by the rays of the sun, and, as was said before, are tinged with its
colour; the painter therefore ought to take the same colour with which
he has painted the sun, and employ it in all those parts of his work
which receive its light.

It also happens very often, that a cloud will appear dark without
receiving any shadow from a separate cloud, according to the situation
of the eye; because it will see only the shady part of the one, while
it sees both the enlightened and shady parts of the other.

Of two objects at equal height, that which is the farthest off will
appear the lowest. Observe the first cloud in the cut, though it
is lower than the second, it appears as if it were higher. This is
demonstrated by the section of the pyramidical rays of the low cloud at
M A, and the second (which is higher) at N M, below M A. This happens
also when, on account of the rays of the setting or rising sun, a dark
cloud appears higher than another which is light.


/Chap. CCCXLIII./--_The Brilliancy of a Landscape._

/The/ vivacity and brightness of colours in a landscape will never bear
any comparison with a landscape in nature when illumined by the sun,
unless the picture be placed so as to receive the same light from the
sun itself.


/Chap. CCCXLIV./--_Why a painted Object does not appear so far distant
as a real one, though they be conveyed to the Eye by equal Angles._


/If/ a house be painted on the pannel B C, at the apparent distance of
one mile, and by the side of it a real one be perceived at the true
distance of one mile also; which objects are so disposed, that the
pannel, or picture, A C, intersects the pyramidical rays with the same
opening of angles; yet these two objects will never appear of the same
size, nor at the same distance, if seen with both eyes[91].

/Chap. CCCXLV./--_How to draw a Figure standing upon its Feet, to
appear forty Braccia_[92] _high, in a Space of twenty Braccia, with
proportionate Members._

/In/ this, as in any other case, the painter is not to mind what kind
of surface he has to work upon; particularly if his painting is to be
seen from a determined point, such as a window, or any other opening.
Because the eye is not to attend to the evenness or roughness of the
wall, but only to what is to be represented as beyond that wall; such
as a landscape, or any thing else. Nevertheless a curved surface, such
as F R G, would be the best, because it has no angles.


/Chap. CCCXLVI./--_How to draw a Figure twenty-four Braccia high, upon
a Wall twelve Braccia high._ Plate XXII.

/Draw/ upon part of the wall M N, half the figure you mean to
represent; and the other half upon the cove above, M R. But before
that, it will be necessary to draw upon a flat board, or a paper, the
profile of the wall and cove, of the same shape and dimension, as that
upon which you are to paint. Then draw also the profile of your figure,
of whatever size you please, by the side of it; draw all the lines to
the point F, and where they intersect the profile M R, you will have
the dimensions of your figure as they ought to be drawn upon the real
spot. You will find, that on the straight part of the wall M N, it will
come of its proper form, because the going off perpendicularly will
diminish it naturally; but that part which comes upon the curve will be
diminished upon your drawing. The whole must be traced afterwards upon
the real spot, which is similar to M N. This is a good and safe method.

_Page 196_.
_Chap. 346_.
_Plate 22_.

_London, Published by J. Taylor High Holborn._]

/Chap. CCCXLVII./--_Why, on measuring a Face, and then painting it of
the same Size, it will appear larger than the natural one._

A B is the breadth of the space, or of the head, and it is placed on
the paper at the distance C F, where the cheeks are, and it would have
to stand back all A C, and then the temples would be carried to the
distance O R of the lines A F, B F; so that there is the difference C
O and R D. It follows that the line C F, and the line D F, in order
to become shorter[93], have to go and find the paper where the whole
height is drawn, that is to say, the lines F A, and F B, where the true
size is; and so it makes the difference, as I have said, of C O, and R


/Chap. CCCXLVIII./--_Why the most perfect Imitation of Nature will not
appear to have the same Relief as Nature itself._

/If/ nature is seen with two eyes, it will be impossible to imitate it
upon a picture so as to appear with the same relief, though the lines,
the lights, shades, and colour, be perfectly imitated[94]. It is proved
thus: let the eyes A B, look at the object C, with the concurrence of
both the central visual rays A C and B C. I say, that the sides of the
visual angles (which contain these central rays) will see the space G
D, behind the object C. The eye A will see all the space FD, and the
eye B all the space G E. Therefore the two eyes will see behind the
object C all the space F E; for which reason that object C becomes as
it were transparent, according to the definition of transparent bodies,
behind which nothing is hidden. This cannot happen if an object were
seen with one eye only, provided it be larger than the eye. From all
that has been said, we may conclude, that a painted object, occupying
all the space it has behind, leaves no possible way to see any part of
the ground, which it covers entirely by its own circumference[95].


/Chap. CCCXLIX./--_Universality of Painting; a Precept._

/A painter/ cannot be said to aim at universality in the art, unless
he love equally every species of that art. For instance, if he delight
only in landscape, his can be esteemed only as a simple investigation;
and, as our friend Botticello[96] remarks, is but a vain study; since,
by throwing a sponge impregnated with various colours against a wall,
it leaves some spots upon it, which may appear like a landscape. It is
true also, that a variety of compositions may be seen in such spots,
according to the disposition of mind with which they are considered;
such as heads of men, various animals, battles, rocky scenes, seas,
clouds, woods, and the like. It may be compared to the sound of bells,
which may seem to say whatever we choose to imagine. In the same manner
also, those spots may furnish hints for compositions, though they do
not teach us how to finish any particular part; and the imitators of
them are but sorry landscape-painters.

/Chap. CCCL./--_In what Manner the Mirror is the true Master of

/When/ you wish to know if your picture be like the object you mean to
represent, have a flat looking-glass, and place it so as to reflect the
object you have imitated, and compare carefully the original with the
copy. You see upon a flat mirror the representation of things which
appear real; Painting is the same. They are both an even superficies,
and both give the idea of something beyond their superficies. Since you
are persuaded that the looking-glass, by means of lines and shades,
gives you the representation of things as if they were real; you being
in possession of colours which in their different lights and shades are
stronger than those of the looking-glass, may certainly, if you employ
the rules with judgment, give to your picture the same appearance of
Nature as you admire in the looking-glass. Or rather, your picture will
be like Nature itself seen in a large looking-glass.

This looking-glass (being your master) will shew you the lights and
shades of any object whatever. Amongst your colours there are some
lighter than the lightest part of your model, and also some darker
than the strongest shades; from which it follows, that you ought to
represent Nature as seen in your looking-glass, when you look at it
with one eye only; because both eyes surround the objects too much,
particularly when they are small[97].

/Chap. CCCLI./--_Which Painting is to be esteemed the best._

/That/ painting is the most commendable which has the greatest
conformity to what is meant to be imitated. This kind of comparison
will often put to shame a certain description of painters, who pretend
they can mend the works of Nature; as they do, for instance, when
they pretend to represent a child twelve months old, giving him eight
heads in height, when Nature in its best proportion admits but five.
The breadth of the shoulders also, which is equal to the head, they
make double, giving to a child a year old, the proportions of a man of
thirty. They have so often practised, and seen others practise these
errors, that they have converted them into habit, which has taken so
deep a root in their corrupted judgment, that they persuade themselves
that Nature and her imitators are wrong in not following their own

/Chap. CCCLII./--_Of the Judgment to be made of a Painter's Work._

/The/ first thing to be considered is, whether the figures have their
proper relief, according to their respective situations, and the light
they are in: that the shadows be not the same at the extremities of
the groups, as in the middle; because being surrounded by shadows, or
shaded only on one side, produce very different effects. The groups in
the middle are surrounded by shadows from the other figures, which are
between them and the light. Those which are at the extremities have
the shadows only on one side, and receive the light on the other. The
strongest and smartest touches of shadows are to be in the interstice
between the figures of the principal group where the light cannot

Secondly, that by the order and disposition of the figures they appear
to be accommodated to the subject, and the true representation of the
history in question.

Thirdly, that the figures appear alive to the occasion which brought
them together, with expressions suited to their attitudes.

/Chap. CCCLIII./--_How to make an imaginary Animal appear natural._

/It/ is evident that it will be impossible to invent any animal without
giving it members, and these members must individually resemble those
of some known animal.

If you wish, therefore, to make a chimera, or imaginary animal, appear
natural (let us suppose a serpent); take the head of a mastiff, the
eyes of a cat, the ears of a porcupine, the mouth of a hare, the
brows of a lion, the temples of an old cock, and the neck of a sea

/Chap. CCCLIV./--_Painters are not to imitate one another._

/One/ painter ought never to imitate the manner of any other; because
in that case he cannot be called the child of Nature, but the
grandchild. It is always best to have recourse to Nature, which is
replete with such abundance of objects, than to the productions of
other masters, who learnt every thing from her.

/Chap. CCCLV./--_How to judge of one's own Work._

/It/ is an acknowledged fact, that we perceive errors in the works of
others more readily than in our own. A painter, therefore, ought to
be well instructed in perspective, and acquire a perfect knowledge of
the dimensions of the human body; he should also be a good architect,
at least as far as concerns the outward shape of buildings, with their
different parts; and where he is deficient, he ought not to neglect
taking drawings from Nature.

It will be well also to have a looking-glass by him, when he paints,
to look often at his work in it, which being seen the contrary way,
will appear as the work of another hand, and will better shew his
faults. It will be useful also to quit his work often, and take some
relaxation, that his judgment may be clearer at his return; for too
great application and sitting still is sometimes the cause of many
gross errors.

/Chap. CCCLVI./--_Of correcting Errors which you discover._

/Remember/, that when, by the exercise of your own judgment, or the
observation of others, you discover any errors in your work, you
immediately set about correcting them, lest, in exposing your works to
the public, you expose your defects also. Admit not any self-excuse,
by persuading yourself that you shall retrieve your character, and
that by some succeeding work you shall make amends for your shameful
negligence; for your work does not perish as soon as it is out of your
hands, like the sound of music, but remains a standing monument of your
ignorance. If you excuse yourself by saying that you have not time for
the study necessary to form a great painter, having to struggle against
necessity, you yourself are only to blame; for the study of what is
excellent is food both for mind and body. How many philosophers, born
to great riches, have given them away, that they might not be retarded
in their pursuits!

/Chap. CCCLVII./--_The best Place for looking at a Picture._

/Let/ us suppose, that A B is the picture, receiving the light from D;
I say, that whoever is placed between C and E, will see the picture
very badly, particularly if it be painted in oil, or varnished; because
it will shine, and will appear almost of the nature of a looking-glass.
For these reasons, the nearer you go towards C, the less you will be
able to see, because of the light from the window upon the picture,
sending its reflection to that point. But if you place yourself between
E D, you may conveniently see the picture, and the more so as you draw
nearer to the point D, because that place is less liable to be struck
by the reflected rays.


/Chap. CCCLVIII./--_Of Judgment._

/There/ is nothing more apt to deceive us than our own judgment, in
deciding on our own works; and we should derive more advantage from
having our faults pointed out by our enemies, than by hearing the
opinions of our friends, because they are too much like ourselves, and
may deceive us as much as our own judgment.

/Chap. CCCLIX./--_Of Employment anxiously wished for by Painters._

/And/ you, painter, who are desirous of great practice, understand,
that if you do not rest it on the good foundation of Nature, you will
labour with little honour and less profit; and if you do it on a good
ground your works will be many and good, to your great honour and

/Chap. CCCLX./--_Advice to Painters._

/A painter/ ought to study universal Nature, and reason much within
himself on all he sees, making use of the most excellent parts that
compose the species of every object before him. His mind will by this
method be like a mirror, reflecting truly every object placed before
it, and become, as it were, a second Nature.

/Chap. CCCLXI./--_Of Statuary._

/To/ execute a figure in marble, you must first make a model of it in
clay, or plaster, and when it is finished, place it in a square case,
equally capable of receiving the block of marble intended to be shaped
like it. Have some peg-like sticks to pass through holes made in the
sides, and all round the case; push them in till every one touches the
model, marking what remains of the sticks outwards with ink, and making
a countermark to every stick and its hole, so that you may at pleasure
replace them again. Then having taken out the model, and placed the
block of marble in its stead, take so much out of it, till all the pegs
go in at the same holes to the marks you had made. To facilitate the
work, contrive your frame so that every part of it, separately, or all
together, may be lifted up, except the bottom, which must remain under
the marble. By this method you may chop it off with great facility[101].

/Chap. CCCLXII./--_On the Measurement and Division of Statues into

/Divide/ the head into twelve parts, each part into twelve degrees,
each degree into twelve minutes, and these minutes into seconds[102].

/Chap. CCCLXIII./--_A Precept for the Painter._

/The/ painter who entertains no doubt of his own ability, will attain
very little. When the work succeeds beyond the judgment, the artist
acquires nothing; but when the judgment is superior to the work, he
never ceases improving, if the love of gain do not retard his progress.

/Chap. CCCLXIV./--_On the Judgment of Painters._

/When/ the work is equal to the knowledge and judgment of the painter,
it is a bad sign; and when it surpasses the judgment, it is still
worse, as is the case with those who wonder at having succeeded so
well. But when the judgment surpasses the work, it is a perfectly good
sign; and the young painter who possesses that rare disposition, will,
no doubt, arrive at great perfection. He will produce few works, but
they will be such as to fix the admiration of every beholder.

/Chap. CCCLXV./--_That a Man ought not to trust to himself, but ought
to consult Nature._

/Whoever/ flatters himself that he can retain in his memory all the
effects of Nature, is deceived, for our memory is not so capacious;
therefore consult Nature for every thing.



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[Footnote i1: Vasari, Vite de Pittori, edit. Della Valle, 8vo. Siena
1792, vol. v. p. 22. Du Fresne, in the life prefixed to the Italian
editions of this Treatise on Painting. Venturi, Essai sur les Ouvrages
de Leonard de Vinci, 4to. Paris, 1797, p. 3, 36.]

[Footnote i2: Venturi, p. 3.]

[Footnote i3: Vasari, 23.]

[Footnote i4: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i5: Du Fresne. Vasari, 25.]

[Footnote i6: Vasari, 26. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i7: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i8: Vasari, 26.]

[Footnote i9: Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i10: Du Fresne. Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i11: Du Fresne. Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i12: Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i13: It is impossible in a translation to preserve the jingle
between the name Vinci, and the Latin verb _vincit_ which occurs in the

[Footnote i14: Du Fresne, Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i15: Vasari, 22.]

[Footnote i16: Vasari, 22 and 23.]

[Footnote i17: Lomazzo, Trattato della Pittura, p. 282.]

[Footnote i18: Vasari, 23. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i19: Venturi, 37.]

[Footnote i20: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i21: Venturi, 36.]

[Footnote i22: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i23: Vasari, 30. Lettere Pittoriche, vol. ii. p. 184.]

[Footnote i24: Venturi, 3.]

[Footnote i25: Suppl. to Life of L. da Vinci, in Vasari, 65. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i26: Venturi, 36; who mentions also, that Leonardo at this
time constructed a machine for the theatre.]

[Footnote i27: Venturi, p. 44.]

[Footnote i28: Suppl. in Vasari, 74.]

[Footnote i29: Suppl. in Vasari, 63.]

[Footnote i30: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i31: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i32: De Piles, in the Life of Leonardo. See Lettere
Pittoriche, vol. ii. p. 187.]

[Footnote i33: Lettere Pittoriche, vol. ii. p. 187.]

[Footnote i34: Du Fresne. Lettere Pitt. vol. ii. p. 186.]

[Footnote i35: Vasari, 31, in a note.]

[Footnote i36: Let. Pit. vol. ii. 183.]

[Footnote i37: Additions to the Life in Vasari, 53. My worthy friend,
Mr. Rigaud, who has more than once seen the original picture, gives
this account of it: "The cutting of the wall for the sake of opening
a door, was no doubt the effect of ignorance and barbarity, but it
did not materially injure the painting; it only took away some of the
feet under the table, entirely shaded. The true value of this picture
consists in what was seen above the table. The door is only four
feet wide, and cuts off only about two feet of the lower part of the
picture. More damage has been done by subsequent quacks, who, within my
own time, have undertaken to repair it."]

[Footnote i38: Additions to the Life in Vasari, 53.]


No. 1. That in the refectory of the fathers Osservanti della Pace: it
was painted on the wall in 1561, by Gio. Paolo Lomazzo.

2. Another, copied on board, as a picture in the refectory of the
Chierici Regolari di S. Paolo, in their college of St. Barnabas. This
is perhaps the most beautiful that can be seen, only that it is not
finished lower than the knees, and is in size about one eighth of the

3. Another on canvas, which was first in the church of S. Fedele, by
Agostino S. Agostino, for the refectory of the Jesuits: since their
suppression, it exists in that of the Orfani a S. Pietro, in Gessate.

4. Another of the said Lomazzo's, painted on the wall in the monastery
Maggiore, very fine, and in good preservation.

5. Another on canvas, by an uncertain artist, with only the heads and
half the bodies, in the Ambrosian library.

6. Another in the Certosa di Pavia, done by Marco d'Ogionno, a scholar
of Leonardo's, on the wall.

7. Another in the possession of the monks Girolamini di Castellazzo
fuori di Porta Lodovica, of the hand of the same Ogionno.

8. Another copy of this Last Supper in the refectory of the fathers
of St. Benedict of Mantua. It was painted by Girolamo Monsignori, a
Dominican friar, who studied much the works of Leonardo, and copied
them excellently.

9. Another in the refectory of the fathers Osservanti di Lugano, of the
hand of Bernardino Lovino; a valuable work, and much esteemed as well
for its neatness and perfect imitation of the original, as for its own
integrity, and being done by a scholar of Leonardo's.

10. A beautiful drawing of this famous picture is, or was lately, in
the possession of Sig. Giuseppe Casati, king at arms. Supposed to be
either the original design by Leonardo himself, or a sketch by one of
his best scholars, to be used in painting some copy on a wall, or on
canvas. It is drawn with a pen, on paper larger than usual, with a mere
outline heightened with bistre.

11. Another in the refectory of the fathers Girolamini, in the
monastery of St. Laurence, in the Escurial in Spain. It was presented
to King Philip II. while he was in Valentia; and by his order placed in
the said room where the monks dine, and is believed to be by some able
scholar of Leonardo.

12. Another in St. Germain d'Auxerre, in France; ordered by King
Francis I. when he came to Milan, and found he could not remove the
original. There is reason to think this the work of Bernardino Lovino.

13. Another in France, in the castle of Escovens, in the possession of
the Constable Montmorency.

The original drawing for this picture is in the possession of his
Britannic Majesty. See the life prefixed to Mr. Chamberlaine's
publication of the Designs of Leonardo da Vinci, p. 5. An engraving
from it is among those which Mr. Rogers published from drawings.]

[Footnote i40: Vasari, 34. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i41: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i42: Vasari, 36. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i43: Vasari, 37. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i44: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i45: Suppl. in Vasari, 64.]

[Footnote i46: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i47: Suppl. in Vasari, 75, 76, 77, 78.]

[Footnote i48: Vasari, 38. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i49: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i50: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i51: Vasari, 39. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i52: Vasari, 39. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i53: Vasari, 39. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i54: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i55: Supp. in Vasari, 81.]

[Footnote i56: Suppl. in Vasari, 68.]

[Footnote i57: Vasari, 42. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i58: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i59: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i60: Venturi, 37.]

[Footnote i61: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i62: Venturi, 37.]

[Footnote i63: Venturi, 38.]

[Footnote i64: Venturi, 37.]

[Footnote i65: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i66: Venturi, 38.]

[Footnote i67: Venturi, 38.]

[Footnote i68: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i69: Vasari, 44. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i70: Vasari, 44. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i71: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i72: Suppl. in Vasari, 79, 80.]

[Footnote i73: Suppl. in Vasari, 80.]

[Footnote i74: Suppl. in Vasari, 65.]

[Footnote i75: Vasari, 45. Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i76: Venturi, 39. Suppl. in Vasari, 80.]

[Footnote i77: Venturi, p. 4.]

[Footnote i78: Sect. 1. Of the Descent of heavy Bodies, combined with
the Rotation of the Earth. 2. Of the Earth divided into Particles. 3.
Of the Earth and the Moon. 4. Of the Action of the Sun on the Sea. 5.
Of the ancient State of the Earth. 6. Of the Flame and the Air. 7.
Of Statics. 8. Of the Descent of heavy Bodies by inclined Planes. 9.
Of the Water which one draws from a Canal. 10. Of Whirlpools. 11. Of
Vision. 12. Of military Architecture. 13. Of some Instruments. 14. Two
chymical Processes. 15. Of Method.]

[Footnote i79: See the Life prefixed to Mr. Chamberlaine's publication
of the Designs of Leonardo da Vinci, p. 11.]

[Footnote i80: Fac similes of some of the pages of the original work,
are also to be found in this publication.]

[Footnote i81: P. 33.]

[Footnote i82: "J. A. Mazenta died in 1635. He gave the designs for the
fortifications of Livorno in Tuscany; and has written on the method
of rendering the Adda navigable. Argelati Script. Mediol. vol. ii."
Venturi, 33.]

[Footnote i83: "We shall see afterwards that this man was Leonardo's
heir: he had carried back these writings and drawings from France to
Milan." Venturi, 34.]

[Footnote i84: "This was in 1587." Venturi, p. 34.]

[Footnote i85: "J. Amb. Mazenta made himself a Barnabite in 1590."
Venturi, 34.]

[Footnote i86: "The drawings and books of Vinci are come for the most
part into the hands of Pompeo Leoni, who has obtained them from the
son of Francisco Melzo. There are some also of these books in the
possession of Guy Mazenta Lomazzo, Tempio della Pittura, in 4^o, Milano
1590, page 17." Venturi, 35.]

[Footnote i87: "It is volume C. There is printed on it in gold, _Vidi
Mazenta Patritii Mediolanensis liberalitate An. 1603_." Venturi, 35.]

[Footnote i88: "He died in 1613." Venturi, 35.]

[Footnote i89: "This is volume N, in the National Library. It is in
folio, of a large size, and has 392 leaves: it bears on the cover
this title: _Disegni di Macchine delle Arti secreti et altre Cose di
Leonardo da Vinci, raccolte da Pompeo Leoni_." Venturi, 35.]

[Footnote i90: P. 36.]

[Footnote i91: "A memorial is preserved of this liberality by an
inscription." Venturi, 36.]

[Footnote i92: "This is marked at p. 1 of the same volume." Venturi,

[Footnote i93: Venturi, 36.]

[Footnote i94: "Lettere Pittoriche, vol. ii." Venturi, 36.]

[Footnote i95: P. 36. His authority is Gerli, Disegni del Vinci,
Milano, 1784, fol.]

[Footnote i96: P. 42.]

[Footnote i97: It is said, that this compilation is now in the Albani
library. Venturi, 42.]

[Footnote i98: The sketches to illustrate his meaning, were probably
in Leonardo's original manuscripts so slight as to require that more
perfect drawings should be made from them before they could be fit for

[Footnote i99: The identical manuscript of this Treatise, formerly
belonging to Mons. Chardin, one of the two copies from which the
edition in Italian was printed, is now the property of Mr. Edwards of
Pall Mall. Judging by the chapters as there numbered, it would appear
to contain more than the printed edition; but this is merely owing to
the circumstance that some of those which in the manuscript stand as
distinct chapters, are in the printed edition consolidated together.]

[Footnote i100: Vasari, p. 37, gives the initials N. N.]

[Footnote i101: Which Venturi, p. 6, professes his intention of
publishing from the manuscript collections of Leonardo.]

[Footnote i102: Bibliotheca Smithiana, 4to. Ven. 1755. Venturi, 44.]

[Footnote i103: Libreria Nani, 4to. Ven. 1776. Venturi, 44.]

[Footnote i104: Gori Simbolæ literar. Flor. 1751, vol. viii. p. 66.
Venturi, 44.]

[Footnote i105: See his Traité des Pratiques Geometrales et
Perspectives, 8vo. Paris, 1665.]

[Footnote i106: P. 128.]

[Footnote i107: P. 134.]

[Footnote i108: He observed criminals when led to execution (Lett.
Pitt. vol. ii. p. 182; on the authority of Lomazzo); noted down any
countenance that struck him (Vasari, 29); in forming the animal for
the shield, composed it of parts selected from different real animals
(Vasari, p. 27); and when he wanted characteristic heads, resorted to
Nature (Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 181). All which methods are recommended
by him in the course of the Treatise on Painting.]

[Footnote i109: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i110: Venturi, 35, in a note.]

[Footnote i111: Vasari, 23.]

[Footnote i112: Vasari, 24.]

[Footnote i113: Suppl. in Vasari, 67.]

[Footnote i114: Vasari, 23.]

[Footnote i115: Ibid.]

[Footnote i116: Vasari, 45.]

[Footnote i117: Additions to the life in Vasari, p. 47.]

[Footnote i118: Suppl. in Vasari, 74.]

[Footnote i119: Vasari, 24.]

[Footnote i120: Vasari, 26.]

[Footnote i121: Vasari, 29.]

[Footnote i122: Additions to the life in Vasari, 61.]

[Footnote i123: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 171.]

[Footnote i124: Vasari, 29.]

[Footnote i125: Ibid.]

[Footnote i126: Ibid.]

[Footnote i127: Venturi, 42.]

[Footnote i128: Vasari, 39. In a note in Lettere Pittoriche, vol.
ii. p. 174, on the before cited letter of Mariette, it is said that
Bernardino Lovino was a scholar of Leonardo, and had in his possession
the carton of St. Ann, which Leonardo had made for a picture which he
was to paint in the church della Nunziata, at Florence. Francis I. got
possession of it, and was desirous that Leonardo should execute it when
he came into France, but without effect. It is known it was not done,
as this carton went to Milan. Lomazzo, lib. ii. cap. 17. Lett. Pitt.
vol. ii. p. 174, in a note. A carton similar to this is now in the
library of the Royal Academy, at London.]

[Footnote i129: Vasari, p. 39, in a note.]

[Footnote i130: Vasari, 41. In the suppl. to the life, Vasari, 68, the
subject painted in the council-chamber at Florence is said to be the
wonderful battle against Attila.]

[Footnote i131: Du Fresne. Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i132: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i133: Additions to the Life in Vasari, 48.]

[Footnote i134: Ibid.]

[Footnote i135: Additions to the Life in Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i136: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 198.]

[Footnote i137: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. p. 200.]

[Footnote i138: Additions to the Life in Vasari, 68.]

[Footnote i139: Ibid.]

[Footnote i140: Ibid.]

[Footnote i141: Ibid.]

[Footnote i142: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 198.]

[Footnote i143: Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i144: The Datary is the Pope's officer who nominates to
vacant benefices.]

[Footnote i145: Vasari, 44.]

[Footnote i146: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i147: Du Fresne. Additions in Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i148: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 196.]

[Footnote i149: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i150: Du Fresne. Additions to Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i151: Additions to Vasari, 59.]

[Footnote i152: Additions to Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i153: Additions to Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i154: Additions in Vasari, 61.]

[Footnote i155: Suppl. in Vasari, 68.]

[Footnote i156: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i157: Additions to Vasari, 59.]

[Footnote i158: Vasari, 25.]

[Footnote i159: Vasari, 28.]

[Footnote i160: Vasari, 29.]

[Footnote i161: Vasari, 30. In p. 29, it is said in a note, that
there is in the Medici gallery an Adoration of the Magi, by Leonardo,
unfinished, which may probably be the picture of which Vasari speaks.]

[Footnote i162: Vasari, 30.]

[Footnote i163: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 184. The real fact is known to be,
that it was engraven from a drawing made by Rubens himself, who, as I
am informed, had in it altered the back-ground.]

[Footnote i164: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 195.]

[Footnote i165: Vasari, 30.]

[Footnote i166: Vasari, 33.]

[Footnote i167: Venturi, 4.]

[Footnote i168: Venturi, 37.]

[Footnote i169: Suppl. in Vasari, 68.]

[Footnote i170: Vasari, 39.]

[Footnote i171: Ibid.]

[Footnote i172: Suppl. in Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i173: Vasari, 44.]

[Footnote i174: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i175: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i176: Suppl. in Vasari, 61.]

[Footnote i177: Ibid. 81.]

[Footnote i178: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i179: Du Fresne. Add. to the Life in Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i180: Suppl. in Vasari, 69.]

[Footnote i181: Du Fresne. Add. to Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i182: Du Fresne.]

[Footnote i183: Add. in Vasari, 47.]

[Footnote i184: Add. to Vasari, 48.]

[Footnote i185: Add. in Vasari, 57.]

[Footnote i186: Add. to Vasari, 58.]

[Footnote i187: Add. to Vasari, 59.]

[Footnote i188: Ibid.]

[Footnote i189: Ibid. This is the picture lately exhibited in Brook
Street, Grosvenor Square, and is said to have been purchased by the
Earl of Warwick.]

[Footnote i190: Add. to Vasari, 59.]

[Footnote i191: Ibid.]

[Footnote i192: Ibid.]

[Footnote i193: Ibid.]

[Footnote i194: Ibid. 60.]

[Footnote i195: Ibid.]

[Footnote i196: Ibid.]

[Footnote i197: Ibid.]

[Footnote i198: Ibid.]

[Footnote i199: Lett. Pitt. vol. ii. 197.]

[Footnote i200: Add. in Vasari, 60.]

[Footnote i201: Add. in Vasari, 61.]

[Footnote i202: Ibid.]

[Footnote i203: Ibid.]

[Footnote i204: Ibid.]

[Footnote i205: Supp. in Vasari, 67.]

[Footnote i206: Ibid. 68.]

[Footnote i207: Supp. in Vasari, 75.]

[Footnote i208: Ibid.]

[Footnote i209: Supp. in Vasari, 80.]

[Footnote i210: Supp. in Vasari, 81.]

[Footnote 1: This passage has been by some persons much misunderstood,
and supposed to require, that the student should be a deep proficient
in perspective, before he commences the study of painting; but it is
a knowledge of the leading principles only of perspective that the
author here means, and without such a knowledge, which is easily to be
acquired, the student will inevitably fall into errors, as gross as
those humorously pointed out by Hogarth, in his Frontispiece to Kirby's

[Footnote 2: See Chap. 351.]

[Footnote 3: Not to be found in this work.]

[Footnote 4: From this, and many other similar passages, it is evident,
that the author intended at some future time to arrange his manuscript
collections, and to publish them as separate treatises. That he did not
do so is well known; but it is also a fact, that, in selecting from the
whole mass of his collections the chapters of which the present work
consists, great care appears in general to have been taken to extract
also those to which there was any reference from any of the chapters
intended for this work, or which from their subject were necessarily
connected with them. Accordingly, the reader will find, in the notes
to this translation, that all such chapters in any other part of the
present work are uniformly pointed out, as have any relation to the
respective passages in the text. This, which has never before been
done, though indispensably necessary, will be found of singular use,
and it was thought proper here, once for all, to notice it.

In the present instance the chapters, referring to the subject in the
text, are Chap. xvi. xvii. xviii. xix. xx. xxvi.; and though these
do not afford complete information, yet it is to be remembered, that
drawing from relievos is subject to the very same rules as drawing from
Nature; and that, therefore, what is elsewhere said on that subject is
also equally applicable to this.]

[Footnote 5: The meaning of this is, that the last touches of light,
such as the shining parts (which are always narrow), must be given
sparingly. In short, that the drawing must be kept in broad masses as
much as possible.]

[Footnote 6: This is not an absolute rule, but it is a very good one
for drawing of portraits.]

[Footnote 7: See Chap. ci.]

[Footnote 8: See the preceding chapter.]

[Footnote 9: See the two preceding chapters.]

[Footnote 10: Man being the highest of the animal creation, ought to be
the chief object of study.]

[Footnote 11: An intended Treatise, as it seems, on Anatomy, which
however never was published; but there are several chapters in the
present work on the subject of Anatomy, most of which will be found
under the present head of Anatomy; and of such as could not be placed
there, because they also related to some other branch, the following
is a list by which they may be found: Chapters vi. vii. x. xi. xxxiv.
xxxv. xxxvi. xxxvii. xxxviii. xxxix. xl. xli. xlii. xliii. xliv. xlv.
xlvi. xlviii. xlix. l. li. lii. cxxix.]

[Footnote 12: See chap. lxxxvii.]

[Footnote 13: It does not appear that this intention was ever carried
into execution; but there are many chapters in this work on the subject
of motion, where all that is necessary for a painter in this branch
will be found.]

[Footnote 14: Anatomists have divided this muscle into four or five
sections; but painters, following the ancient sculptors, shew only
the three principal ones; and, in fact, we find that a greater number
of them (as may often be observed in nature) gives a disagreeable
meagreness to the subject. Beautiful nature does not shew more than
three, though there may be more hid under the skin.]

[Footnote 15: A treatise on weights, like many others, intended by this
author, but never published.]

[Footnote 16: See the next chapter.]

[Footnote 17: It is believed that this treatise, like many others
promised by the author, was never written; and to save the necessity of
frequently repeating this fact, the reader is here informed, once for
all, that in the life of the author prefixed to this edition, will be
found an account of the works promised or projected by him, and how far
his intentions have been carried into effect.]

[Footnote 18: See chap. lxiv.]

[Footnote 19: See in this work from chap. lx. to lxxxi.]

[Footnote 20: See chapters lxi. lxiv.]

[Footnote 21: See chapters civ. cliv.]

[Footnote 22: The author here means to compare the different quickness
of the motion of the head and the heel, when employed in the same
action of jumping; and he states the proportion of the former to be
three times that of the latter. The reason he gives for this is in
substance, that as the head has but one motion to make, while in fact
the lower part of the figure has three successive operations to perform
at the places he mentions, three times the velocity, or, in other
words, three times the degree of effort, is necessary in the head, the
prime mover, to give the power of influencing the other parts; and
the rule deducible from this axiom is, that where two different parts
of the body concur in the same action, and one of them has to perform
one motion only, while the other is to have several, the proportion of
velocity or effort in the former must be regulated by the number of
operations necessary in the latter.]

[Footnote 23: It is explained in this work, or at least there is
something respecting it in the preceding chapter, and in chap. cli.]

[Footnote 24: The eyeball moving up and down to look at the hand,
describes a part of a circle, from every point of which it sees it
in an infinite variety of aspects. The hand also is moveable _ad
infinitum_ (for it can go round the whole circle--see chap. lxxxvii.),
and consequently shew itself in an infinite variety of aspects, which
it is impossible for any memory to retain.]

[Footnote 25: See chap. xx. clv.]

[Footnote 26: About thirteen yards of our measure, the Florentine
braccia, or cubit, by which the author measures, being 1 foot 10 inches
7-8ths English measure.]

[Footnote 27: See chap. cxxi. and cccv.]

[Footnote 28: It is supposed that the figures are to appear of the
natural size, and not bigger. In that case, the measure of the first,
to be of the exact dimension, should have its feet resting upon the
bottom line; but as you remove it from that, it should diminish.

No allusion is here intended to the distance at which a picture is to
be placed from the eye.]

[Footnote 29: The author does not mean here to say, that one historical
picture cannot be hung over another. It certainly may, because, in
viewing each, the spectator is at liberty (especially if they are
subjects independent of each other) to shift his place so as to stand
at the true point of sight for viewing every one of them; but in
covering a wall with a succession of subjects from the same history,
the author considers the whole as, in fact, but one picture, divided
into compartments, and to be seen at one view, and which cannot
therefore admit more than one point of sight. In the former case, the
pictures are in fact so many distinct subjects unconnected with each

[Footnote 30: See chap. cccxlviii.

This chapter is obscure, and may probably be made clear by merely
stating it in other words. Leonardo objects to the use of both eyes,
because, in viewing in that manner the objects here mentioned, two
balls, one behind the other, the second is seen, which would not be
the case, if the angle of the visual rays were not too big for the
first object. Whoever is at all acquainted with optics, need not be
told, that the visual rays commence in a single point in the centre, or
nearly the centre of each eye, and continue diverging. But, in using
both eyes, the visual rays proceed not from one and the same centre,
but from a different centre in each eye, and intersecting each other,
as they do a little before passing the first object, they become
together broader than the extent of the first object, and consequently
give a view of part of the second. On the contrary, in using but one
eye, the visual rays proceed but from one centre; and as, therefore,
there cannot be any intersection, the visual rays, when they reach the
first object, are not broader than the first object, and the second is
completely hidden. Properly speaking, therefore, in using both eyes we
introduce more than one point of sight, which renders the perspective
false in the painting; but in using one eye only, there can be, as
there ought, but one point of sight. There is, however, this difference
between viewing real objects and those represented in painting, that in
looking at the former, whether we use one or both eyes, the objects,
by being actually detached from the back ground, admit the visual rays
to strike on them, so as to form a correct perspective, from whatever
point they are viewed, and the eye accordingly forms a perspective of
its own; but in viewing the latter, there is no possibility of varying
the perspective; and, unless the picture is seen precisely under the
same angle as it was painted under, the perspective in all other views
must be false. This is observable in the perspective views painted for
scenes at the playhouse. If the beholder is seated in the central line
of the house, whether in the boxes or pit, the perspective is correct;
but, in proportion as he is placed at a greater or less distance to the
right or left of that line, the perspective appears to him more or less
faulty. And hence arises the necessity of using but one eye in viewing
a painting, in order thereby to reduce it to one point of sight.]

[Footnote 31: Chap. xcvi. and civ.]

[Footnote 32: See the Life of the Author prefixed, and chap. xx. and
ci. of the present work.]

[Footnote 33: The author here speaks of unpolished Nature; and indeed
it is from such subjects only, that the genuine and characteristic
operations of Nature are to be learnt. It is the effect of education
to correct the natural peculiarities and defects, and, by so doing, to
assimilate one person to the rest of the world.]

[Footnote 34: See chap. cxxiii.]

[Footnote 35: See chap. cclxiv.]

[Footnote 36: See chapter cclxvii.]

[Footnote 37: Sir Joshua Reynolds frequently inculcated these precepts
in his lectures, and indeed they cannot be too often enforced.]

[Footnote 38: Probably this would have formed a part of his intended
Treatise on Light and Shadow, but no such proposition occurs in the
present work.]

[Footnote 39: See chapters cc. and ccix.]

[Footnote 40: See chap. ccix.]

[Footnote 41: This cannot be taken as an absolute rule; it must be left
in a great measure to the judgment of the painter. For much graceful
softness and grandeur is acquired, sometimes, by blending the lights of
the figures with the light part of the ground; and so of the shadows;
as Leonardo himself has observed in chapters cxciv. cxcv. and Sir
Joshua Reynolds has often put in practice with success.]

[Footnote 42: See chap. cclxv.]

[Footnote 43: See chap. cxcvi.]

[Footnote 44: He means here to say, that in proportion as the body
interposed between the eye and the object is more or less transparent,
the greater or less quantity of the colour of the body interposed will
be communicated to the object.]

[Footnote 45: See the note to chap. cc.]

[Footnote 46: See the preceding chapter, and chap. cc.]

[Footnote 47: The appearance of motion is lessened according to the
distance, in the same proportion as objects diminish in size.]

[Footnote 48: See chap. ccxvii. and ccxix.]

[Footnote 49: See chap. ccxv. and ccxix.]

[Footnote 50: This was intended to constitute a part of some book of
Perspective, which we have not; but the rule here referred to will be
found in chap. cccx. of the present work.]

[Footnote 51: See chap. ccxv. and ccxvii.]

[Footnote 52: No such work was ever published, nor, for any thing that
appears, ever written.]

[Footnote 53: The French translation of 1716 has a note on this
chapter, saying, that the invention of enamel painting found out since
the time of Leonardo da Vinci, would better answer to the title of this
chapter, and also be a better method of painting. I must beg leave,
however, to dissent from this opinion, as the two kinds of painting
are so different, that they cannot be compared. Leonardo treats of oil
painting, but the other is vitrification. Leonardo is known to have
spent a great deal of time in experiments, of which this is a specimen,
and it may appear ridiculous to the practitioners of more modern
date, as he does not enter more fully into a minute description of
the materials, or the mode of employing them. The principle laid down
in the text appears to me to be simply this: to make the oil entirely
evaporate from the colours by the action of fire, and afterwards to
prevent the action of the air by the means of a glass, which in itself
is an excellent principle, but not applicable, any more than enamel
painting to large works.]

[Footnote 54: It is evident that distemper or size painting is here

[Footnote 55: Indian ink.]

[Footnote 56: This rule is not without exception: see chap. ccxxxiv.]

[Footnote 57: See chap. ccxxxviii.]

[Footnote 58: See chap. ccxxxvii.]

[Footnote 59: See chapters ccxlvii. cclxxiv. in the present work.
Probably they were intended to form a part of a distinct treatise, and
to have been ranged as propositions in that, but at present they are
not so placed.]

[Footnote 60: See chap. ccxlviii.]

[Footnote 61: See chap. cclxxiv.]

[Footnote 62: Although the author seems to have designed that this, and
many other propositions to which he refers, should have formed a part
of some regular work, and he has accordingly referred to them whenever
he has mentioned them, by their intended numerical situation in that
work, whatever it might be, it does not appear that he ever carried
this design into execution. There are, however, several chapters in
the present work, viz. ccxciii. cclxxxix. cclxxxv. ccxcv. in which the
principle in the text is recognised, and which probably would have been
transferred into the projected treatise, if he had ever drawn it up.]

[Footnote 63: The note on the preceding chapter is in a great measure
applicable to this, and the proposition mentioned in the text is also
to be found in chapter ccxlvii. of the present work.]

[Footnote 64: See the note on the chapter next but one preceding. The
proposition in the text occurs in chap. ccxlvii. of the present work.]

[Footnote 65: Not in this work.]

[Footnote 66: I do not know a better comment on this passage than
Felibien's Examination of Le Brun's Picture of the Tent of Darius.
From this (which has been reprinted with an English translation, by
Colonel Parsons in 1700, in folio) it will clearly appear, what the
chain of connexion is between every colour there used, and its nearest
neighbour, and consequently a rule may be formed from it with more
certainty and precision than where the student is left to develope
it for himself, from the mere inspection of different examples of

[Footnote 67: See chap. ccxxiii. ccxxxvii. cclxxiv. cclxxxii. of
the present work. We have before remarked, that the propositions so
frequently referred to by the author, were never reduced into form,
though apparently he intended a regular work in which they were to be

[Footnote 68: No where in this work.]

[Footnote 69: This is evident in many of Vandyke's portraits,
particularly of ladies, many of whom are dressed in black velvet; and
this remark will in some measure account for the delicate fairness
which he frequently gives to the female complexion.]

[Footnote 70: These propositions, any more than the others mentioned
in different parts of this work, were never digested into a regular
treatise, as was evidently intended by the author, and consequently are
not to be found, except perhaps in some of the volumes of the author's
manuscript collections.]

[Footnote 71: See chap. ccxciii. cccvii. cccviii.]

[Footnote 72: See chap. cclxxxvii.]

[Footnote 73: This book on perspective was never drawn up.]

[Footnote 74: See chap. ccxcii.]

[Footnote 75: See chap. ccxii. ccxlviii. cclv.]

[Footnote 76: There is no work of this author to which this can at
present refer, but the principle is laid down in chapters cclxxxiv.
cccvi. of the present treatise.]

[Footnote 77: See chapters cccvii. cccxxii.]

[Footnote 78: See chap. cxvi. cxxi. cccv.]

[Footnote 79: See chap. cccxiii. and cccxxiii.]

[Footnote 80: To our obtaining a correct idea of the magnitude and
distance of any object seen from afar, it is necessary that we consider
how much of distinctness an object loses at a distance (from the mere
interposition of the air), as well as what it loses in size; and these
two considerations must unite before we can decidedly pronounce as to
its distance or magnitude. This calculation, as to distinctness, must
be made upon the idea that the air is clear, as, if by any accident it
is otherwise, we shall (knowing the proportion in which clear air dims
a prospect) be led to conclude this farther off than it is, and, to
justify that conclusion, shall suppose its real magnitude correspondent
with the distance, at which from its degree of distinctness it appears
to be. In the circumstance remarked in the text there is, however, a
great deception; the fact is, that the colour and the minute parts of
the object are lost in the fog, while the size of it is not diminished
in proportion; and the eye being accustomed to see objects diminished
in size at a great distance, supposes this to be farther off than it
is, and consequently imagines it larger.]

[Footnote 81: This proposition, though undoubtedly intended to form a
part of some future work, which never was drawn up, makes no part of
the present.]

[Footnote 82: See chap. cccvii.]

[Footnote 83: Vide chap. ccxcii. ccciii.]

[Footnote 84: See chapter ccxcviii.]

[Footnote 85: This was probably to have been a part of some other work,
but it does not occur in this.]

[Footnote 86: Cento braccia, or cubits. The Florence braccio is one
foot ten inches seven eighths, English measure.]

[Footnote 87: Probably the Author here means yellow lilies, or fleurs
de lis.]

[Footnote 88: That point is always found in the horizon, and is called
the point of sight, or the vanishing point.]

[Footnote 89: See chap. cccxx.]

[Footnote 90: See chap. cccxvii.]

[Footnote 91: This position has been already laid down in chapter
cxxiv. (and will also be found in chapter cccxlviii.); and the reader
is referred to the note on that passage, which will also explain that
in the text, for further illustration. It may, however, be proper to
remark, that though the author has here supposed both objects conveyed
to the eye by an angle of the same extent, they cannot, in fact, be so
seen, unless one eye be shut; and the reason is this: if viewed with
both eyes, there will be two points of sight, one in the centre of each
eye; and the rays from each of these to the objects must of course be
different, and will consequently form different angles.]

[Footnote 92: The braccio is one foot ten inches and seven eighths
English measure.]

[Footnote 93: i.e. To be abridged according to the rules of

[Footnote 94: See chap. cxxii.]

[Footnote 95: The whole of this chapter, like the next but one
preceding, depends on the circumstance of there being in fact two
points of sight, one in the centre of each eye, when an object is
viewed with both eyes. In natural objects the effect which this
circumstance produces is, that the rays from each point of sight,
diverging as they extend towards the object, take in not only that, but
some part also of the distance behind it, till at length, at a certain
distance behind it, they cross each other; whereas, in a painted
representation, there being no real distance behind the object, but the
whole being a flat surface, it is impossible that the rays from the
points of sight should pass beyond that flat surface; and as the object
itself is on that flat surface, which is the real extremity of the
view, the eyes cannot acquire a sight of any thing beyond.]

[Footnote 96: A well-known painter at Florence, contemporary with
Leonardo da Vinci, who painted several altar-pieces and other public

[Footnote 97: See chap. cxxiv. and cccxlviii.]

[Footnote 98: See chap. x.]

[Footnote 99: See chap. cci.]

[Footnote 100: Leonardo da Vinci was remarkably fond of this kind of
invention, and is accused of having lost a great deal of time that way.]

[Footnote 101: The method here recommended, was the general and common
practice at that time, and continued so with little, if any variation,
till lately. But about thirty years ago, the late Mr. Bacon invented
an entirely new method, which, as better answering the purpose,
he constantly used, and from him others have also adopted it into

[Footnote 102: This may be a good method of dividing the figure for the
purpose of reducing from large to small, or _vice versâ_; but it not
being the method generally used by the painters for measuring their
figures, as being too minute, this chapter was not introduced amongst
those of general proportions.]

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