penfe; we love to get at certainty. For this we are not to be blamed. But we love to be positive and dogmatical, and are feldom fenfible how little at prefent it is given us to know. Paganifm was thick darkness: Chriftianity, in fome respects, is only a twilight. For now we talk like children, now we know in part, now we fee through a glafs darkly; unless we be wifer than St. Paul, who fays this of himfelf, as well as of other Chriftians."

One difcourfe, entitled, Keep thy foot, from Ecclef. v. 1. has these remarks upon the text, What Solomon calls, the houfe of God, is a place appointed for the worship and fervice of God. To erect and fet apart fuch places for the exercise of religious rites is derived from the dictates of human nature, and approved of God from the remoteft antiquity. It began not with the tabernacle which Motes by divine appointment caufed to be made, but was much more ancient. Noah built an altar when he came out of the ark. Abraham, Ifaac, and Jacob, wherefoever they pitched their tents, had places for divine worship, that is, altars with their inclosures, though they had no exprefs command from God, that we know of, concerning it. Mofes, before the ark was made, and that tabernacle which God appointed, erected a tabernacle for the fame purpose without the camp, where every one who fought the Lord was to go. And all this feems to have been done as a thing of custom, and as men by tradition had learned to appropriate fome particular place for the more folemn worship of God.-Our Saviour, who brought into the world a brighter light and a fublimer religion, taught, that it mattered not where God was worfhipped, if he were worshipped in fpirit and in truth: that of all temples a pure heart was that which he most approved, and that where two or three of his difciples fhould meet together to ferve God, there would he fpiritually be in the midst of them; doctrines agreeable to reafon, and fuitable to the enfuing times, when chriftians fhould be fo far from enjoying fplendid temples to repair to, that they often would hardly have a place where to hide their heads. As foon, indeed, as perfecution declined, and a calm fucceeded, chriftians built themselves churches, and ever fince have fet apart fuch edifices for public worship; which is very right, fo long as we remember that it is only for conveniency and decency.'

Whether the altars, mentioned in this paffage, were inclofed, and were intended or used for public worship, or whether they were chiefly defigned as memorials of fome particular inftance of divine goodnefs, we will not difpute. The obfervations here made are candid and rational, and difcover nothing of the bigot or high-churchman. The remainder of the fermon pre

fents

fents the reader with feveral very useful and important reflec

tions.

The fecond fermon, in the last volume, treats of Humility, from which we fhall give a fhort quotation. The word humility is ufed by Latin writers in a bad fenfe for meanness of fpirit; but the pagans were not ignorant of this virtue, and have recommended it; only they gave it another name. Chriftianity, indeed, hath taught us jufter notions of humility than they commonly entertained; for they ufually confidered humility, which they called modefty or moderation, as a focial virtue, as it influenced our behaviour towards ourselves and towards men: but humility towards God, few of them feem fufficiently to have apprehended. It is, indeed, a virtue fo remote from meanness of spirit, that it is no bad fign of a great and exalted mind. An humble perfon is one who is neither puffed up with approbation and applaufe, nor greatly provoked or difturbed by cenfure and i ufage; who envies none placed above him, and defpites none below him; who dares examine his own conduct, and condemn whatfoever is faulty in it; who is gentle to others, and fevere to himself; who defires to obtain no more than he deferves; who can quit even that alfo, if his duty requires it; who is contented to act the part which providence allots to him; who is free from irregular felf-love, that is, from one of the most infinuating and prevailing weaknesses of mankind, which may not improperly be called the inner garment of the foul, the first which it puts on, and the last which it puts off. If this be not, it is hard to fay what is, greatness of mind. On the contrary, if we would know what meannefs of fpirit is, and how it acts, let us look for it among the proud and infolent, and we fhall not lofe our labour. proud man is one who is glad to receive homage and flattery, though it be offered to him by the moft ignorant or worthlefs, and cannot bear contempt even from them; who therefore is the fervant or flave of all, not in a good fenfe, but becaufe his happiness depends upon their opinion and behaviour; who has no heart to own his obligations to God and man; whofe life and conduct is one continual lie; who affumes good qualities which he has not, and is blind to his own faults; who defires to poffefs what he should not, and what he often cannot obtain; and who is much diffatisfied when he is disappointed. These are the perfons who defpife humility, and by defpifing recommend it.'

A

The candid reader, we doubt not, will fuffer us just to obferve, that we could not help frequently reflecting, during the perufal of these difcourfes, how irkfome it must have been, and grievous, to a man who entertained the fentiments ex

prefed

preffed in many of them, to go through fome parts of the forms of religious fervice to which the learned and judicious Author was frequently called.

Hi.

ART. V. A Difcourfe delivered to the Students of the Royal Academy, on the Distribution of Prizes, Dec. 14, 1770. By the Prefi dent. 4to. 1 s. 6d. Davies. 1771.

HIS Difcourfe is on the gufto grande, or great style in

Tpainting, which the prefident recommends to the ftu

dents as their primary purfuit, fince that purfuit, though it might not always attain its principal purpose, would neverthelefs be attended with advantages. By aiming at better things, if from particular inclination, or from the taste of the time and place he lives in, or from neceffity, or from failure in the higheft attempts, the student should be obliged to defcend lower; he would bring into the lower fphere of art a grandeur of composition and character, that would raise his works above their natural rank.

This is undeniably true. He who ftudies the genius and first principles of any art or science, and pursues it in its highest departments, will defcend to the lower with more enlarged ideas, and a greater command. It is particularly true in painting. The artist who ftrengthens his mind, and acquires a li berality and magnificence of conception in the higher walks of Nature, will find thofe advantages even in the mechanism of portrait painting, and the limited fphere of ftill life. Poffibly the reafon why Phidias excelled fo greatly as a ftatuary was, that he had originally been a painter. It is certain that he painted many figures before he undertook his inimitable statue of Minerva,

The means which the learned prefident points out to the stu dents as most capable of conducting them to this great ftyle in painting, appear to be rational and well founded, fo far at leaft as they exclude individual imitation, the great bane of the progrefs of genius.

The wish of the genuine painter, fays he, must be more extenfive: instead of endeavouring to amufe mankind with the minute neatnefs of his imitations, he muft endeavour to improve them by the grandeur of his ideas; inftead of feeking praife, by deceiving the fuperficial fenfe of the spectator, he must strive for fame, by captivating the imagination.

The principle now laid down, that the perfection of this art does not confift in mere imitation, is far from being new or fingular. It is, indeed, fupported by the general opinion of the enlightened part of mankind. The poets, orators, and rhetoricians of antiquity, are continually enforcing this pofition, that all the arts receive their perfection from an ideal beauty,

fuperior

fuperior to what is to be found in individual nature. They are ever referring to the practice of the painters and fculptors of their times, particularly Phidias (the favourite artift of antiquity) to illuftrate their affertions. As if they could not fufficiently express their admiration of his genius by what they knew, they have recourfe to poetical enthufiafm. They call it inspiration, a gift from heaven; the artift is fupposed to have afcended the celestial regions, to furnifh his mind with this perfect idea of beauty. "He, fays Proclus, who takes for his model fuch forms as nature produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation of them, will never attain to what is perfectly beautiful. For the works of nature are full of difproportion, and fail very fhort of the true ftandard of beauty. So that Phidias, when he formed his Jupiter, did not copy any object ever presented to his fight; but contemplated only that image which he had conceived in his mind from Homer's de fcription." And thus Cicero, fpeaking of the fame Phidias "Neither did this artift, fays he, when he carved the image of Jupiter or Minerva, fet before him any one human figure, as a pattern, which he was to copy; but having a more perfect idea of beauty fixed in his mind, this he fteadily contemplated, and to the imitation of this all his skill and labour were directed."

Let us now hear on what principles he founds his precepts. All the objects which are exhibited to our view by Nature, upon close examination will be found to have their blemishes and defects. The moft beautiful forms have fomething about them like weak nefs, minuteness, or imperfection. But it is not every eye that perceives thefe blemishes; it must be an eye long used to the contemplation and comparison of thefe forms and which, by a long habit of obferving what any set of objects of the fame kind have in common, has acquired the power of difcerning what each wants in particular. This long laborious comparison should be the first study of the painter, who aims at the greatest ftyle. By this means he acquires a juft idea of beautiful forms; he corrects Nature by herself, her imperfect ftate by her more perfect. His eye being enabled to diftinguifh the accidental deficiencies, excrefcences and deformities of things from their general figures, he makes out an abstract idea of their forms more perfect than any one original; and, what may seem a paradox, he learns to defign naturally by drawing his figures unlike to any one object. This idea of the perfect ftate of nature, which the artist calls the ideal beauty, is the great leading principle, by which works of genius are conducted. By this Phidias acquired his fame. He wrought upon a fober principle, what has fo much excited the enthufiafin of the world; and by this method you, who

have courage to tread the fame path, may acquire equal repu

tation.

This is the idea which has acquired, and which feems to have a right to the epithet of divine; as it may be said to prefide, like a fupreme judge, over all the productions of nature; appearing to be poffefled of the will and intention of the Creator, as far as they regard the external form of living beings.

When a man once poffeffes this idea in its perfection, there is no danger but that he will be fufficiently warmed by it himfelf, and be able to warm and ravish every one else.

Thus it is from a reiterated experience, and a close comparison of the objects in nature, that an artist becomes poffefied of the idea of that central form, if I may fo exprefs it, from which every deviation is deformity. But the investigation of this form I grant is painful, and I know but of one method of fhortening the road; this is, by a careful ftudy of the works of the ancient fculptors; who, being indefatigable in the school of nature, have left models of that perfect form behind them, which an artist would prefer as fupremely beautiful, who had fpent his whole life in that fingle contemplation. But if induftry carried them thus far, may not you alfo hope for the fame reward from the fame labour? We have the fame fchool opened to us that was opened to them; for Nature denies her inftructions to none who defire to become her pupils.

To the principle I have laid down, that the idea of beauty in each species of beings is invariably one, it may be objected, that in every species there are various central forms, which are feparate and diftinct from each other, and yet are undeniably beautiful; that in the human figure, for instance, the beauty of the Hercules is one, of the Gladiator another, of the Apollo another; which makes fo many different ideas of beauty.

It is true, indeed, that thefe figures are each perfect in their kind, though of different characters and proportions; but ftill neither of them is the reprefentation of an individual, but of a clafs. And as there is one general form, which, as I have faid, belongs to the human kind at large, fo in each of these claffes there is one common idea and central form, which is the abstract of the various individual forms belonging to that class. Thus, though the forms of childhood and age differ exeeedingly; there is a common form in childhood, and a common form in age, which is the more perfect, as it is more remote from all peculiarities. But I must add further, that though the moft perfect forms of each of the general divifions of the human figure are ideal, and fuperior to any individual form of that clafs; yet the higheft perfection of the human figure is not to be found in any one of them; it is not in the Hercules, nor