of the art, which is only an ornament, and of the merit of which

few but painters themselves are judges.

This seems to me to be one of the most dangerous sources of

corruption; and I speak of it from experience, not as an error

which may possibly happen, but which has actually infected all

foreign academies. The directors were probably pleased with this

premature dexterity in their pupils, and praised their despatch at

the expense of their correctness.

But young men have not only this frivolous ambition of being

thought masterly inciting them on one hand, but also their natural

sloth tempting them on the other. They are terrified at the

prospect before them, of the toil required to attain exactness.

The impetuosity of youth is distrusted at the slow approaches of a

regular siege, and desires, from mere impatience of labour, to take

the citadel by storm. They wish to find some shorter path to

excellence, and hope to obtain the reward of eminence by other

means than those which the indispensable rules of art have

prescribed. They must, therefore, be told again and again that

labour is the only price of solid fame, and that whatever their

force of genius may be, there is no easy method of becoming a good

painter.

When we read the lives of the most eminent painters, every page

informs us that no part of their time was spent in dissipation.

Even an increase of fame served only to augment their industry. To

be convinced with what persevering assiduity they pursued their

studies, we need only reflect on their method of proceeding in

their most celebrated works. When they conceived a subject, they

first made a variety of sketches; then a finished drawing of the

whole; after that a more correct drawing of every separate part,

heads, hands, feet, and pieces of drapery; they then painted the

picture, and after all re-touched it from the life. The pictures,