DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61252#0023
GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xix
and prompt attention, the willing aid, I have received from
all those whose pictures I have here attempted to register.
I have to acknowledge it gratefully—the more gratefully,
because I have felt from the first, that not only it is impos-
sible to flatter, but impossible even to satisfy the proprietor
of a fine collection, by any catalogue raisonne of his pic-
tures, however accurate or laudatory; and this for reasons
which have nothing to do with the mere pride of the owner
in that which is his own, but with worthier and deeper
feelings, in which we can truly sympathize. All who pos-
sess fine pictures, and really love them, are familiar with
minute beauties, which it is a mortification to have passed
over. Every good picture (by which I mean every pic-
ture which has something good in it) is not mere surface
and colour; it has a countenance, like the countenance of
a friend, or a lover, of which certain expressions are re-
vealed only to certain eyes, at certain moments. Then
there are the associations of long acquaintance; accidental
gleams of lamp oi' sunshine have lighted up the shadowy
nooks, and startled the eye with revelations of hidden
beauty and meaning;—or, in hours of lassitude and sorrow-
hours when the “ fretful stir unprofitable” of this painful,
actual world, has hung heavy on the spirit—the light break-
ing from behind the trees, or far-off distance, stretching
away, away, and leading the fancy after it, till it melts into
Elysium,—or rural groups—revels of satyrs or clowns—or
face of pure-eyed virgin or serene saint—has arrested the
troubled course of thought, and stamped a consecration on
certain pictures, which it would be a pleasure to see com-
memorated, but which no accidental visitor can enter into.
“ I cannot express to you,” said a most distinguished states-
man of the present day, as we stood together in the midst
of his beautiful pictures—“ I cannot express to you the feel-
ing of tranquillity, of restoration, with which, in an interval
of harassing official business, I look round me here.” And
b 2
and prompt attention, the willing aid, I have received from
all those whose pictures I have here attempted to register.
I have to acknowledge it gratefully—the more gratefully,
because I have felt from the first, that not only it is impos-
sible to flatter, but impossible even to satisfy the proprietor
of a fine collection, by any catalogue raisonne of his pic-
tures, however accurate or laudatory; and this for reasons
which have nothing to do with the mere pride of the owner
in that which is his own, but with worthier and deeper
feelings, in which we can truly sympathize. All who pos-
sess fine pictures, and really love them, are familiar with
minute beauties, which it is a mortification to have passed
over. Every good picture (by which I mean every pic-
ture which has something good in it) is not mere surface
and colour; it has a countenance, like the countenance of
a friend, or a lover, of which certain expressions are re-
vealed only to certain eyes, at certain moments. Then
there are the associations of long acquaintance; accidental
gleams of lamp oi' sunshine have lighted up the shadowy
nooks, and startled the eye with revelations of hidden
beauty and meaning;—or, in hours of lassitude and sorrow-
hours when the “ fretful stir unprofitable” of this painful,
actual world, has hung heavy on the spirit—the light break-
ing from behind the trees, or far-off distance, stretching
away, away, and leading the fancy after it, till it melts into
Elysium,—or rural groups—revels of satyrs or clowns—or
face of pure-eyed virgin or serene saint—has arrested the
troubled course of thought, and stamped a consecration on
certain pictures, which it would be a pleasure to see com-
memorated, but which no accidental visitor can enter into.
“ I cannot express to you,” said a most distinguished states-
man of the present day, as we stood together in the midst
of his beautiful pictures—“ I cannot express to you the feel-
ing of tranquillity, of restoration, with which, in an interval
of harassing official business, I look round me here.” And
b 2