Great Pictures, As Seen and Described by Famous Writers

In Short

This volume is a carefully curated anthology of art criticism and appreciative essays, bringing together the observations of celebrated writers as they encounter masterpieces of painting. Rather than offering a dry, systematic history of art, the collection prioritizes subjective, emotional, and intellectual responses from figures like John Ruskin and Walter Pater. It has lasted because it captures the "powerful impression" a work of art can leave on a great mind, transforming technical analysis into a meditation on human culture, memory, and the enduring nature of aesthetic beauty.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book is not a linear history, but a journey across the geography of European art. It opens by establishing its purpose: to move beyond the constraints of "antiquarian" or purely technical criticism. The editor positions the work as a guide for the "literary tourist," someone who seeks to understand why certain canvases—like those of Botticelli or Veronese—have become touchstones of general culture.

The progression flows from the Renaissance to the eighteenth century, treating the gallery as a space where history, morality, and individual genius collide. We see artists like Raphael described through the lens of divine inspiration, while others, such as Hogarth, are viewed as moralists who use paint to capture the "contortion of pleasure or of pain" in a cynical society. As the book moves through these distinct artistic periods, it asks deeper questions: how does a painter like Leonardo da Vinci reflect the hidden, secret wisdom of his own mind? How does a portrait by Holbein or Van Dyck serve as a mirror to the power dynamics of a royal court?

The middle sections pivot between the sacred and the profane. We are taken from the "celestial concert" of Raphael’s Virgins to the "grim tales" of Judith, and eventually to the "exquisite sweetness" of Murillo’s Immaculate Conception. The story here is one of transformation; art is not static, but a living force that changes as it is interpreted by subsequent generations. The writers featured treat the canvas as a vessel for the painter's own soul—or, in the case of Madame de Pompadour’s era, as a reflection of the elegance and vanity of a fading aristocratic world.

As the book approaches its conclusion, the focus shifts to the intense, solitary nature of the artist’s life. We see the brief, meteoric career of Paul Potter, whose work is described as a "miracle" of prodigious, hurried labor, and we encounter the tender, nature-filled scenes of Gentile da Fabriano. The book ends by contemplating the intersection of death, fame, and legacy. It reminds the reader that a masterpiece is never truly finished; it is a point where the artist’s "idealism and materialism meet and mingle," awaiting the gaze of the viewer to be fully realized. The final chapters reinforce the idea that to study a great picture is to study the human heart itself, searching for the "divine note" that remains long after the painter has left the brush.

How It Unfolds

The invitation to see The opening pages challenge the reader to look past the "stress of a great name" and instead seek out paintings that offer a "peculiar quality of pleasure." The editor establishes that this is a collection of personal, powerful impressions rather than a comprehensive catalogue.

The Renaissance mirror The text delves into the works of Botticelli and Raphael, framing them as essential pillars of human culture. These chapters emphasize how these artists absorbed the spirit of their age, creating images that feel both intellectually complex and emotionally accessible.

The drama of the canvas Moving into the eighteenth century, the focus shifts to the moralistic and the dramatic. Writers examine how paintings by Hogarth or Greuze function as "emotional pills," designed to provoke shocks and tremors through the contrast of innocence and corruption.

The solitary genius Later sections highlight the lives of artists who existed apart from the mainstream, such as Paul Potter or the meditative Fra Angelico. These stories focus on the "sadness inseparable from solitary labour" and the miraculous, fleeting nature of true talent.

The legacy of the masterpiece The book concludes by reflecting on how art survives the rise and fall of regimes and the shifting tastes of centuries. It leaves the reader with a sense of the museum as a sanctuary where the "ideal and the material" continue to converse with one another.

The People

The figures in this book are both the painters and the literary minds who interpret them. John Ruskin stands out as a central voice, guiding the reader through the "honest and complete" expressions of masters like Van der Helst. He treats the artist as a partner in a dialogue, valuing the "wise of observation" found in a painting above mere technical perfection.

Walter Pater provides a more philosophical perspective, particularly in his analysis of Leonardo da Vinci. He portrays Leonardo not merely as a painter, but as a "bold speculator" who is fascinated by the hidden virtues of nature and the "refined and graceful mystery" of the human face. Pater’s Leonardo is a man who seems to exist on a "secret errand," disconnected from the common forms of life.

Then there is the figure of Madame de Pompadour, who serves as an archetype of the seventeenth and eighteenth-century patron. She is depicted as a "ravishing, ambitious, frail, but sincere" woman whose life is inextricably linked to the art she championed. Her transition from a powerful mistress to a woman facing death with the calm words, "We will go together," serves as a human anchor for the discussions of the art that adorned her world. Each figure—whether they are holding a brush or a pen—is defined by their attempt to capture something "not of this earth," translating the silent, invisible movements of the soul into something visible and lasting.

In Its Own Voice

"He has the freshness, the uncertain and diffident promise which belongs to the earlier Renaissance itself, and makes it perhaps the most interesting period in the history of the mind."

The author uses this line to define the unique, enduring appeal of Sandro Botticelli’s work.

"Grace with Watteau is that subtile quality which seems the smile of a line, the soul of form, the spiritual physiognomy of matter."

This description captures the elusive, dreamlike essence that the Goncourts find within Watteau’s paintings.

"Wait a moment, Monsieur le Curé, we will go together."

These are the final words attributed to Madame de Pompadour, reflecting her poise and command even in the face of death.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the relationship between art and the human experience. It argues that a painting is not merely an object to be analyzed for its technique or historical placement, but a "force in general culture." The text explores the tension between the artist’s individual genius and the societal expectations of their time, posing questions about why certain works remain "destinations" for the spirit long after their creators have passed. It examines how art functions as a moral mirror, a source of "mystical voluptuousness," and a record of the human search for beauty. Ultimately, it suggests that the act of viewing a great painting is a collaborative process, where the viewer's own humanity completes the work begun by the artist.

Why Read It Today

You will love this book if you are interested in the history of ideas as much as the history of art. It is best read slowly, as a series of intellectual excursions rather than a single continuous argument. Because the essays were written in the nineteenth century, the prose is elegant, dense, and occasionally ornate, reflecting a time when art criticism was an deeply literary endeavor.

Modern readers might find the period-specific attitudes toward morality and "feminine grace" to be a window into the nineteenth-century mindset, which is often as revealing as the art being discussed. You should be prepared for the fact that the book is not a modern, color-illustrated coffee table volume; its value lies in the sophistication of its writers. It feels like walking through an old, quiet gallery with a well-read friend who points out not just the colors on the canvas, but the ghosts of the people who stood before them. What stays with you is the realization that while fashions in art change, the human impulse to find meaning and "divine notes" in the visual world remains entirely constant. It is a rewarding companion for anyone who believes that a painting is a conversation that never truly ends.