Collected Poems — On Art and Artists (Part 3 of 3)
xxvii
A Pretty Epigram for the encouragement of those
who have paid great sums in the Venetian and
Flemish ooze
Nature and Art in this together suit: What is most grand is always most minute. Rubens
thinks tables, chairs and stools are grand, But Raphael thinks a head, a foot, a hand.
xxviii
Raphael, sublime, majestic, graceful, wise-- His executive power must I despise? Rubens, low, vulgar,
stupid, ignorant -- His power of execution I must grant, Learn the laborious stumble of a fool! And from an
idiot's action form my rule? -- Go, send your Children to the Slobbering School!
xxix
On the Venetian Painter
He makes the lame to walk, we all agree, But then he strives to blind all
who can see.
xxx
A pair of stays to mend the shape Of crookèd humpy woman, Put on, O Venus; now thou art Quite a
Venetian Roman.
xxxi
Venetian! all thy colouring is no more Than bolster'd plasters on a crooked whore.
xxxii
To Venetian Artists
That God is colouring Newton does show, And the Devil is a black outline, all
of us know. Perhaps this little fable may make us merry: A dog went over the water without a wherry; A
bone which he had stolen he had in his mouth; He cared not whether the wind was north or south. As he
swam he saw the reflection of the bone. `This is quite perfection -- one generalizing tone! Outline! There's
no outline, there's no such thing: All is chiaroscuro, poco-pen -- it's all colouring!' Snap, snap! He has lost
shadow and substance too. He had them both before. `Now how do ye do?' `A great deal better than I
was before: Those who taste colouring love it more and more.'
xxxiii
All pictures that's painted with sense and with thought Are painted by madmen, as sure as a groat; For
the greater the fool is the pencil more blest, As when they are drunk they always paint best. They never
can Raphael it, Fuseli it, nor Blake it; If they can't see an outline, pray how can they make it? When men
will draw outlines begin you to jaw them; Madmen see outlines and therefore they draw them.
xxxiv
Call that the public voice which is their error! Like as a monkey, peeping in a mirror, Admires all his
colours brown and warm, And never once perceives his ugly form.