View at Villa Borghese, by C. V. Eckersberg

to fit some subjective interpretation rather than the objective
reality.

This fixity of vision was so intense that it amounted almost
to genius. Yet Eckersberg did not really attain genius. He
lacked the ability to let the visible reality rise up phoenix-
like from his work in a more beautiful form. Only once in
his life did he have a real inspiration: when he painted his
three-quarter-length portrait of Thorvaldsen. On this one
occasion a higher power came to his assistance, unknown to
him. The observer, for once, became something of a seer.

He did not again rise above himself like this. It was the
homely virtues, amiability, righteousness, diligence, and
sense of duty, which throve best in the quiet atmosphere of
his sitting-room. To his brush nothing was insignificant.
For fear of missing something, he avoided half-lights and
chiaroscuro. Only in the clear, sober light of day could
Eckersberg satisfy his keenest passion as an artist, the desire
for study, or, as he called it himself, for "research."

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