Cleo. Pray, cousin, say no more in defence of your low taste: The painter has nothing to do with the truth of the history; his business is to express the dignity of the subject, and, in compliment to his judges, never to forget the excellency of our species: All his art and good sense must be employed in raising that to the highest pitch; Great masters do not paint for the common people, but for persons of refined understanding: What you complain o£ is the effect of the good manners and complaisance of the painter. When he had drawn the Infant and the Madona, he thought the least glimpse of the ox and the ass would be sufficient to acquaint you with the history: They who want more fescuing, and a broader explanation, he does not desire his picture should ever be shown to; for the rest, he entertains you with nothing but what is noble and worthy your attention: You see he is an architect, and completely skilled in perspective, and he shows you how finely he can round a pillar, and that both the depth, and the height of a space, may be drawn on a flat, with all the other wonders he performs by his skill in that inconceivable mystery of light and shadows.
Ful. Why then is it pretended that painting is an imitation of nature?
Cleo. At first setting out a scholar is to copy things exactly as he sees them; but from a great matter, when he is left to his own invention, it is expected he should take the perfections of nature, and not paint it as it is, but as we would wish it to be. Zeuxis, to draw a goddess, took five beautiful women, from which he culled what was most graceful in each.
Ful. Still every grace he painted was taken from nature.
Cleo. That’s true; but he left nature her rubbish, and imitated nothing but what was excellent, which made the assemblage superior to any thing in nature. Demetrius was taxed for being too natural; Dionysus was also blamed for drawing men like us. Nearer our times, Michael Angelo was esteemed too natural, and Lysippus of old upbraided the common sort of sculptors for making men such as they were found in nature.
Ful. Are these things real?
Cleo. You may read it yourself in Graham’s Preface to The Art of Painting: the book is above in the library.
Hor. These things may seem strange to you, Madam, but they are of immense use to the public: the higher we can carry the excellency of our species, the more those beautiful images will fill noble minds with worthy and suitable ideas of their own dignity, that will seldom fail of spurring them on to virtue and heroic actions. There is a grandeur to be expressed in things that far surpasses the beauties of simple nature. You take delight in operas, Madam, I do not question; you must have minded the noble manner and stateliness beyond nature, which every thing there is executed with. What gentle touches, what slight and yet majestic motions are made use of to express the most boisterous passions! As the subject is always lofty, so no posture is to be chosen but what is serious and significant, as well as comely and agreeable; should the actions there be represented as they are in common life, they would ruin the sublime, and at once rob you of all your pleasure.
Ful. I never expected any thing natural at an opera; but as persons of distinction resort thither, and every body comes dressed, it is a sort of employment, and I seldom miss a night, because it is the fashion to go: besides, the royal family, and the monarch himself, generally honouring them with their presence, it is almost become a duty to attend them, as much as it is to go to court. What diverts me there is the company, the lights, the music, the scenes, and other decorations: but as I understand but very few words of Italian, so what is most admired in the recitativo is lost upon me, which makes the acting part to me rather ridiculous than——
Hor. Ridiculous, Madam! For Heaven’s sake——