On-Line Philosophy Resources
from the Institute of Environment Philosophy and Public Policy
Gilpin Extracts from Three Essay’s: On Picturesque Beauty, On Picturesque Travel, On Sketching Landscape
Back to picturesque index page
First Published 1794
Essay 1
Disputes about beauty might perhaps be involved in less confusion, if a distinction were established, which certainly exists, between such objects as are beautiful, and such as are picturesque – between those, which please the eye in their natural state; and those, which please from some quality, capable of being illustrated by painting.
Ideas of beauty vary with the objects, and with the eye of the spectator. The stonemason sees beauties in a well-jointed wall, which escape the architect, who surveys the building under a different idea. And thus the painter, who compares his object with the rules of his art, sees it in a different light from the man of general taste, who surveys it only as simply beautiful.
As this difference therefore between the beautiful, and the picturesque appears really to exist, and must depend on some peculiar construction of the object; it may be worth while to examine, what that peculiar construction is. We inquire not into the general sources of beauty, either in nature, or in representation. This would lead into a nice, and scientific discussion, in which it is not our purpose to engage. The question simply is, What is that quality in objects, which particularly marks them as picturesque?
In examining the real object, we shall find, one source of beauty arises from that species of elegance, which we call smoothness, or neatness; for the terms are nearly synonymous. The higher the marble is polished, the brighter the silver is rubbed, and the more the mahogany shines, the more each is considered as an object of beauty: as if the eye delighted in gliding smoothly over a surface.
In the class of larger objects the same idea prevails. In a pile of building we wish to see neatness in every part added to the elegance of the architecture. And if we examine a piece of improved pleasure-ground, every thing rough, and slovenly offends.
Mr Burke, enumerating the properties of beauty, considers
smoothness as one of the most essential. “A very considerable part
of the effect of beauty, says he, is owing to this quality: indeed the
most considerable: for take any beautiful object, and give it a broken,
and rugged surface, and however well-formed it may be in other respects,
it pleases no longer. Whereas, let it want ever so many of the other constituents,
if it want not this, it becomes more pleasing, than almost all the others
without it”. How far Mr Burke may be right in making smoothness
the most considerable source of beauty, I rather doubt. A considerable
one it certainly is.
Thus then, we suppose, the matter stands with regard to beautiful objects
in general. But in picturesque representation it seems somewhat odd, yet
perhaps we shall find it equally true, that the reverse of this is the
cafe; and that the ideas of neat and smooth, instead of being picturesque,
in reality strip the object, in which they reside, of all pretensions
to picturesque beauty. Nay, farther, we do not scruple to assert, that
roughness forms the most essential point of difference between the beautiful,
and the picturesque; as it seems to be that particular quality, which
makes objects chiefly pleasing in painting. I use the general term roughness;
but properly speaking roughness relates only to the surface of bodies:
when we speak of their delineation, we use the word ruggedness. Both ideas
however equally enter into the picturesque; and both are observable in
the smaller, as well as in the larger parts of nature-in the outline,
and bark of a tree, as in the rude summit, and craggy sides of a mountain.
Let us then examine our theory by an appeal to experience; and try how far these qualities enter into the idea of picturesque beauty; and how far they mark that difference among objects, which is the ground of our inquiry.
A piece of Palladian architecture may be elegant in the last degree. The proportion of it’s parts-the propriety of it’s ornaments-and the symmetry of the whole may be highly pleasing. But if we introduce it in a picture, it immediately becomes a formal object, and ceases to please. Should we wish to give it picturesque beauty, we must use the mallet, instead of the chissel; we must beat down one half of it, deface the other, and throw the mutilated members around in heaps. In short, from a smooth building we must turn it into a rough ruin. No painter, who had the choice of the two objects, would hesitate which to chuse.
Again, why does an elegant piece of garden-ground make no figure on canvas? The shape is pleasing; the combination of the objects, harmonious; and the widening of the walk in the very line of beauty. All this is true, but the smoothness of the whole, tho right, and as it should be in nature, offends in picture. Turn the lawn into a piece of broken ground: plant rugged oaks instead of flowing shrubs: break the edges of the walk: give it the rudeness of a road; mark it with wheel-tracks; and scatter around a few stones, and brushwood; in a word, instead of making the whole smooth, make it rough; and you make it also picturesque. All the other ingredients of beauty it already possessed.
Back to picturesque index page