of regular education may also be in fault in such cases. Richardson,
who is very tenacious of the respect in which the profession ought to be
held, tells a story of Michael Angelo, that after a quarrel between him
and Pope Julius II., 'upon account of a slight the artist conceived the
pontiff had put upon him, Michael Angelo was introduced by a bishop,
who, thinking to serve the artist by it, made it an argument that the
Pope should be reconciled to him, because men of his profession were
commonly ignorant, and of no consequence otherwise; his holiness,
enraged at the bishop, struck him with his staff, and told him, it was
he that was the blockhead, and affronted the man himself would not
offend: the prelate was driven out of the chamber, and Michael Angelo
had the Pope's benediction, accompanied with presents. This bishop had
fallen into the vulgar error, and was rebuked accordingly.'

Besides the exercise of the mind, painting exercises the body. It is a
mechanical as well as a liberal art. To do anything, to dig a hole in
the ground, to plant a cabbage, to hit a mark, to move a shuttle, to
work a pattern,--in a word, to attempt to produce any effect, and to
_succeed,_ has something in it that gratifies the love of power, and
carries off the restless activity of the mind of man. Indolence is a
delightful but distressing state; we must be doing something to be
happy. Action is no less necessary than thought to the instinctive
tendencies of the human frame; and painting combines them both
incessantly.[4] The hand is furnished a practical test of the
correctness of the eye; and the eye, thus admonished, imposes fresh
tasks of skill and industry upon the hand. Every stroke tells as the
verifying of a new truth; and every new observation, the instant it is
made, passes into an act and emanation of the will. Every step is
nearer what we wish, and yet there is always more to do. In spite of
the facility, the fluttering grace, the evanescent hues, that play round