And on this their peculiar excellence I
should the more earnestly insist, because it is of a kind altogether
neglected by the English school, and with most unfortunate result, many
of our best painters missing their deserved rank solely from the want of
it, as Gainsborough; and all being more or less checked in their
progress or vulgarized in their aim.

Sec. 10. Finish, and the want of it, how right and how wrong.

It is a misfortune for all honest critics, that hardly any quality of
art is independently to be praised, and without reference to the motive
from which it resulted, and the place in which it appears; so that no
principle can be simply enforced but it shall seem to countenance a
vice; while the work of qualification and explanation both weakens the
force of what is said, and is not perhaps always likely to be with
patience received: so also those who desire to misunderstand or to
oppose have it always in their power to become obtuse listeners or
specious opponents. Thus I hardly dare insist upon the virtue of
completion, lest I should be supposed a defender of Wouvermans or Gerard
Dow; neither can I adequately praise the power of Tintoret, without
fearing to be thought adverse to Holbein or Perugino. The fact is, that
both finish and impetuosity, specific minuteness, or large abstraction,
may be the signs of passion, or of its reverse; may result from
affection or indifference, intellect or dulness. Some men finish from
intense love of the beautiful in the smallest parts of what they do;
others in pure incapability of comprehending anything but parts; others
to show their dexterity with the brush, and prove expenditure of time.
Some are impetuous and bold in their handling, from having great
thoughts to express which are independent of detail; others because they
have bad taste or have been badly taught; others from vanity, and others
from indolence. (Compare Vol. II. Chap. IX. Sec. 8.) Now both the finish
and incompletion are right where they are the signs of passion or of
thought, and both are wrong, and I think the finish the more
contemptible of the two, when they cease to be so. The modern Italians
will paint every leaf of a laurel or rose-bush without the slightest
feeling of their beauty or character; and without showing one spark of
intellect or affection from beginning to end. Anything is better than
this; and yet the very highest schools _do_ the same thing, or nearly
so, but with totally diffe