The ELEVENTH DISCOURSE is upon Genius, the particular genius of the
painter in his power of seizing and representing nature, or his subject
as a whole. He calls it the "genius of mechanical performance." This,
with little difference, is enforcing what has been laid down in former
Discourses. Indeed, as far as precepts may be required, Sir Joshua had
already performed his task; hence, there is necessary repetition. Yet
all is said well, and conviction perpetuates the impressions previously
made. Character is something independent of minute detail; genius alone
knows what constitutes this character, and practically to represent it,
is to be a painter of genius. Though it be true that he "who does not at
all express particulars expresses nothing; yet it is certain that a nice
discrimination of minute circumstances, and a punctilious delineation of
them, whatever excellence it may have, (and I do not mean to detract
from it,) never did confer on the artist the character of genius." The
impression left upon the mind is not of particulars, when it would seem
to be so; such particulars are taken out of the subject, and are each a
whole of themselves. Practically speaking, as we before observed, genius
will be exerted in ascertaining how to paint the "_nothing_" in every
picture, to satisfy with regard to detail, that neither its absence nor
its presence shall be noticeable.

Our pleasure is not in minute imitation; for, in fact, that is not true
imitation, for it forces upon our notice that which naturally we do not
see. We are not pleased with wax-work, which may be nearer reality; "we
are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends accomplished by seemingly
inadequate means." If this be sound, we ought to be sensible of the
inadequacy of the means, which sets aside at once the common notion that
art is illusion. "The properties of all objects, as far as the painter
is concerned with them, are outline or drawing, the colour, and the