%l^'^(^:^p'-'^'m*^-i', >-i~(t,tt DoivvtfecvMt and the uninstructejd in art, alike seem to con- sider it of the gi'eatest importance to omit no- thing which they are able to see. Continuity of form appears to them a point of first necessity. A boundary line, studiously even and unbroken, of an object so situated as to afford the fullest view, is deemed the best and most natural ex- pression of it. This impression is but conform- able to the first notions entertained concemins: the appearance of objects ; such notions being entii'ely referable to the most familiar and habitual asso- ciations. The feeblest apprehension is aware, that every creature, whether destined for the air, the water, the meadow, or the road, has a calling different from that of its neighbour : and to such gross and evident distinctions as these, are the earliest attempts at drawing directed. The step above this, which is not attained PKEFACK. XV without instruction in art, is that in which ett'ect ,,,r,.^. . takes the place of servile delineation. Expression becomes, here, substituted for the dullest asser- .^I'ijvtUic&n^ oy tions of form. Some parts are made prominent, t'\X. (i- // . tca.din-ci U-~ flit ^ . -a.. •■.V U-l ^ic". ^ ( 4 .ESTHETICS. to do SO, by mingling argument with poetic description, would at once chill the emotions which are raised by eloquence. j\\a: ^^/-...^^^ More profitable would be the task of observing the io I kinds of emotion which are most generally and most ^fp,^ strongly associated with the leading forms and aspects of nature, and of considering the impressions we ex- I)erience in connexion with them, with a view to the improvement of taste in the delineation, as well as in — the distribution and grouping, of natural objects. In representations of the human figure, whether in colour '' ■ or marble, the attainment of expression and character °f -;-:— is facilitated, and rendered more certain, by acquaint- '"'^ ance with the nature of the passions themselves; and ^ r ^ although the primary causes of emotion which are o^i/t^^ founded on the aspect of the inanimate creation, are vague and little definable, compared with the expression of emotions in the human features, where effect and cause are combined in sympathetic union, yet it cannot be doubted, that by the exercise of discriminating ob-w/v. -tav^w servation, the judgment may be enlightened with regard to the appreciation of the great and beautiful in land- scape natui'e, as well as in the figure. In both classes of subjects, the emotion becomes void without the object ^'^'f which gives rise to it ; as, without the emotion, the object itself is meaningless. The study of our internal impressions and emotions, in reference to the inspiring causes, tends, therefore, to expand the mind, and to diffuse truth, precision, and taste, into the various ope- rations of the intellect. The mind, thus instructed, mistakes not altogether the nature of the sensations INriiOnUCTOKY. which it is to expect from each characteristk; expression of nature ; and those impressions and emotions which, in the natural objects, are most harmoniouslj and hap- feuitf't- pi'v blended, become, as discernment is increased, asso- /A^//-f<' ciated together with the greater propriety and effect, in the productions of art. A distinction of the impressions which are con- J tvq ^ '«•<.; ^ ow •*vv<'.i : nected with the productions of nature and art, may be ttt^invc''. cuv o| -fat. iM\^!i made in two ways: fi rstly , bv taking our impressions itciu .utttu^.ti-J, >>-<.th as distinctions ; in which case, certain classes of objects )a^°dn.cAtfr!v j c j- ourf ti^& p h-^ n.- are grouped together, according to the nature of the impressions or sensations excited by them, — as, for >, -fct/iautyotu '1,1 instance, a certa,in class of objects inspires us ^^^^ \idi4ij.r ^^ cu cii impressions of the sublime, another class of objects ' with impressions of the picturesque, a third with im- pressions of the grot esque , and a fourth of the niirthful, and so on. Our impressions are, in these cases, centres , or axes, round which objects partaking more or less of these characters, are grouped. 'Die expression of the ?1ift. c>:jt-u)i'. •.■- o< object is considered to be founded upon the nature oi VicX a '\\~Uc\jJuiA. the emotion with whidi it is connected, and tliose cha- |>ou4vcltet ott + ivt-'^- racters which have no connexion with this emotion, are ^ ,^.j^^/, j ' disregarded. Thus, if it be our intention to give to ^ ~~' ~■c^^^ the features of a landscape the expression of the ter- rible, or to those of a countenance the expression of severity , we banish from our thought s all emotions hav- ing an opposite tendency, and admit onlv to the council- chamber of our reason, those which are conducive to the particular character which wo design to impress on our subject. Another view of the fclations uliicli objects liav*; .i:sthi;tics. CqAc iM. >v{we-tv t^t» fc-»u) to the emotions excited, is that in which the latter iimi ejccx.K«l cuut. oioi are not sufficiently marked and definite to form a )ii<\^'tC'5 RKi characteristic distinction. They are too faint, or too p«»>i- cv clu- equally mingled, that the egression of the subject be , , , ' founded upon anv one of thom in particular. It ceases '- ■ to be characterized by sublimity, by mildness, or by any other similar qualification ; but although no one of these emotions connected with it is suiScicntly pre- dominant to give its cast to the scene or object, their mingled union may still be necessary to its perfection, or pleasing effect. Thus , if two heads express firmness, dignity, benevolence, and grace, so proportioned and blended in each, that we are scarcely able to tell which of the two may best claim any one of these characters, their more successful union in one figure than in the other, or their propriety and becomingness with re- ference to the subject, may afford us the means of pro- nouncing at once for one of these objects of art in preference to the other. When ever it has been de- signed that the emotions connected with any subject, be so mingled in the expression of it, that no one of them would appear predominant, it becomes necessary to take for our guide, that instinctive appreciation of forms which discovers differences of expression, even when the emotions connected with them are various and indeterminate. In the first supposition, a direct appeal is made, in the work of art, to some particula r em otion or passion, and character and expression become its chief merit ; in the other,^ its excellence depends on the perfect and natural union of various expressions in the same subject, — grace and ideal perfection become ^ ^ INTRODUCTOKY. oil J fjC the aim toward which evci7 thouglit and eiiorgy is directed. We shall not, however, so far pursue those analogies \^jr^z(Muid to I-Ajl-Kt^ and distinctions of objects, which are based on the (^^^^ tiaacu.Uoi. [cj.^ similarity and difference of the impressions connected ,T ~~ , ' ' — — — ^ - - — ^ - ■ T/u. »la+uvc,» with them, as to lose sight of those n atural and lamihar ■ - • distinctions which are quite inciependcnt ot the emotions ' 3 which these objects are the means of exciting, ' riies o '"^^ ^o<.i-ii.cx, , distinctions are such as are entirely founded on cir- Tot*M-Oa^ icja«>-CM>sW^ cumstances of appropriation to our use, either pV£|£^^ /iiti.ivc-iit. £*ae«<>iv or intellectual. For instance, although a mountain, an ■ i + , i oak, or an animate being, be capable, under particular ^ ~" * circumstances, ot impressingf us with various emotions, ' yet, practically, these emotions have no share in dis-"'^*'^ Ltoi • tinguishing them one from another, or in marking the ^^" '"^ '•'' class of objects to which they belong. We have, there - ^ ^ — -__ fore, with regard to the habitual pursuits of life, a'cc-unn Odch' \ v, distribution of objects, which, whether or not they may^,p . „ .„ , afford the i nterest of emotion, is founded upon principles ». . ,. ^ ,,, . entirely inde pendent of our emotions. The distinctions here, arc such as are founded upon custom ; the physical sciences likewise adopt them, since dislike, approval, or admiration, have seldom any share in those arrange- ments and classifications of objects which science es- tablishes : but, with regard to the fine arts , to every branch of which the emotions of the mind extend their influence, the only divisions which appear to have been imo-tniu adopted, apart from the dictates of taste and feeling, -tu <>U»li(ui-*-<..>^i c. are those which mark the styles ; namely, the figure , •:^ \vt^fv ■ the landscape, and the ornament (considered as the uj ioS? w- beauty. Much confusion and waste of argument have (iti, define some peculiar kind of merit, rather than to imply 2 T~ 1 , .r excellence or perfection. In the modern, as well as in ", •', , '.' the classical languanjcs, the word, as api)lied to objects 'of sight , seems generally to designate p erfection ; and grtfM-, t(^y^ if it be not used to imply this quality equally in all HAHCO WOtu'il '.5., tV INTUOnUCTOKV. f) objects, it is chiefly because all objects are not sus- ceptible of it in an equal degree. The word "beauty" is most used with reference to those objects, with which we connect ideas of the t^reatest degree of perfection. It is used, above all, in connexion with the human form and countenance, at the period of youth or middle ai>o. It is less applicable to old age thaii to vouth, to man than to woman : because it is with the latter age and sex that beauty of form is most habitually associated, - with reference to the other qualities which constitute excellence in the human species. it must certainly be allowed that, owing to the Ctu-fritf oy cOi^cuvimq custom uf associating impressions of beauty more gene- i^uuiiulwiU cj- l~(.aiUu rally with smooth and delicate objects, than with coarse ^^^^ dnicx and rugged ones, this term sometimes acquires, even . 17~Z ■ ^^ .t«£.. /.-^ ill popular phraseology, a somewhat partial signification ; and this is, perhaps, the more the case, as it happens that the objects which are beautiful from their smooth- ^/<.z/<= ..) ness, delicacy, polish, glossiness, and otlu-r sliining qualities, are those which both come nwre frequently under our eyes, and concern us most. The softness and delicacy of the skin and complexion, the smoothness of the coats of animals, and of costly apparel, the high polish admired in works of art of all kinds, the general attractiveness of a clear sky in fine weather, are cases in which principles of smoothness, tenderness, or mild- T ^ -■ .\ r.-n.v«-' if;nr. ness, prevail in constituting the beautiful ; whereas that - beauty which is admired in wild romantic scenery, as , r_ well as ill ruins, is of a kind more seldom met with, (^ ., although the more pleasing for being rare. We cannot, therefore, Ix" surprised that the term lifniilifitl should T± CO 10 ESTHETICS. have been considered by some, less appropriate ns applied to picturesque scenery, although such an application of the term be sanctioned by custom, than when applied to those more smooth and delicate objects which are const antly before us. Price , certainly, furnishes an ing enious parallel between the beautiful which relates to smoothness and delicacy, and that which 'is applied to the picturesque, by introducing a female, to whom he ascribes, in the first place, soft and tender features, and, afterwards, that complexion and appearance peculiar to a gipsy , or to a figure of the most grotesque description :* but, although his portrait of the delicate girl is alone conformable to our most customarv ideas of beauty, it does not follow that the gipsy or peasant girl may not become an almost necessary part of a beautiful landscape, provided she be placed in such a manner, and with such accompani- ments, that the general effect would lose much bv her absence. In the same manner, the old and leafless trunk of a tree, although it should have an unsightly appear- WiioO&tt-cU.vV'i-i-C'.iWia^ ance in smoothly decorated pleasure-grounds, might add lZy^u^kmjM,t)^U^ greatly to the general beauty of a forest or rocky scene. TTr. ' -V, , ,r But, though the shattered trunk may thus become a "7 ,' ' i beautiful object when suitably associated, it cannot be ""■ C entitled to this appellation so generally and deservedly '' ^ as an object which is beautiful whatever be its situation, — ?^'" ■ ' or which appears to diffuse a charm on all that sur- ■.uu°-i^. tui'^'i^ ^- f^^^'^ QunAs it. The beau tiful, at the same time that it vt't^ frvtv«.itn<£r*^ acquires from association a partial and generic signifi- t Mucli oppAct V to Ci . cation, is, nevertheless, a term which mav be used in j!;XTi.:,,»iV I ;V ii^y * P™'^'s '"l^ssajs on the ricturesqiic," vol. i. p. 176. INTRODUCTOKy. 1 I a most general sense. This is the view decidedly taken by Mr. Payne Knight, who observes that " the word beauty is a general term of approbation of the most vague and extensive meaning, applied indiscriminatelv to almost everyth ing that is pleasing, either to the sense, the imagination, or the understanding."* Notwith- ;i.u i^^C1ltil (vwD j^oii standing the opposite opinions entertained by other ^kttttiwt' ' . e authors, beauty , used as a generic term, might often -JetufVi'- ' J advantageously make room for other expressions of a-lcwu ; more speciBc and limited signification. In French andoXvuoif ct..,^''iyi uu Italian , where consi derable extension is given to theL^TTT! ; cm^ term beauf/ful, it is almost equally used to imply per-^.., . l ~ n' rection m the features ot both sexes, as well as of old '^ ~ . — age and childhood. This is shewn by the expressions — ,, -r— : — ;, •• " be/l' 110)110," " bel vecchio," and " bel fanciuUo " ^ '"" cuio juts- cvtc whereas it is known that in English the terms "hand-'^ '*'^^''*^"^'^ ®'^'"' some " and "fine" are more usually employed in con-'"*' JY '- nexion with the two conditions of manhood, middle andi^'''^'^li^''"^ old age ; and the term " pretty ," with that of child- ~ hood. .■j/tiUi(r-/'i<^ \. Terms which imply generic merit are easily distin- ,ui^^ttJt^>^'- ^uished from those which designate pure unspecified '■••<^ uucu^ excellence, i£ they will bear that a qualifying term be -'t ^ v.iixix. o^ applied to them, as is the case with such expressions as - I ~ f^'«*'»*;"'v»"'''; .gorgeous, sumptuous, splendid, fine, neat, and the like ; - wi'eu//. * ^ all which terms of merit may be modified ni their signi-- fication by the use of other terms, as is the case when a building is said to be gorgeous, but heavy ; splendid, * Tayiie Knight's " Analytical Inquiry," &c. intioUuctioii, par. •>. 1'^ .ESTHETICS. hut tawdry ; elegant, but flimsy ; sumptuous, but over- -) H'^f^^^ (lone. The beautiful , it is true, is not always proof against qualifym^ or depreciating terms, but such cases are exceptional ; and, in discussions in which degree and kind are easily associated in the same idea, it becomes necessary, (under the penalty of forfeiting the clearness of the subject, to adopt, with regard to each term, its most habitual signification ; and, when degree and kind are alike expressed by the same term, it becomes im- portant not to found on the general and extended signification, arguments which alone apply to the more limited and specific one. Quality and kind generally furnish the materials for di-^strtation, but it will not do to magnify these partial meanings into that importance which the term with which they are connected ) alone obtains as the exp ression of worth or excellence. So natural is it for us to adopt, as principles, those views of a question, which we had first taken up acci- dentally, that there is danger of reasoning- against our own conviction before reaching the end of a Ion"- argument, unless we determine carefully beforehand, the exact meaning of every term which might have an influence in forming our conclusions, and maintain that which has been first adopted, throughout the subject. Had Alison, in his dissertation on gi'ace, not suffered himself to be guided by partial views, and consulted rather more than he has done, the populai" signification of the term, it is probable that his theory would have been more conformable to the impressions entertained at large on this subject, and that he would have ascribed INTRODUCTORY. 13 to grace, characters very different to those which are the result of self-command and self-control.* He would, probably, have let flow the impulses of nature in many of those cases in which he has checked them ; he would not have denied grace to the innocent joys of childhood, nor to the abandon of nature, in the unconstrained expressions of feelings and emotions, in whatever station of societv the manifestation of such feeUnys and emotions might occur.t The association of the word grace with expressions which, like self-command and self-control, imply a certain degree of restraint, can only be the result of a very limited and exclusive acceptation of the term. * Tlie subjoined paragraph, as well as many others wliich I do not think it necessary to quote, shew thnt Alison ascribes emotions of grace c hiefly to ideas of respect : — " Every attitude or gesture of a well-p roportioned tbrm, and which is at once easy and expressive of some amiable or interesting feelings, is beautiful, and is accordingly spoken of as beautiful. But when we add the \.evm grace- ■nictUiii u.- f^i '^'"^ wish, I think, al ways to convey the idea of some additional quality aaifitJiff which is expressive of some conceived dignity or su periori ty in the mind of the person." — Essuij.i an Tdstf, vol. ii. p. 38;3. t Alison observes, "Xothing, for instance, is more beautiful than the attitudes of hope or joy, or the gestures of mirth and innocent gaiety. We love them in the frolics of infancy, in the sportive activities of youth, in the cheerful ahdiuhm of rural dancing, &c. But it is rarely that we find the graceful in this tumult and intemjierance of happiness. There is something, «>^ _,',»_ rather, that always borders upon the ludicrous, and the slightest exaggeration of the gestures is suflicient to make them the objects of laughter, rather than of admiration." — Vol. ii. p. 3H8. It .TiSTHETICS. ANJVLYSIS OF THE LEADING VIEWS WHICH HAVE BEEN ENTERTAINED CONCERNING THE NATURE OF THE BEAUTIFUL. jL, a, . ^^._ It might appear from a chance and unsystematic vui d uui s I ti 1 1 J u - survey of the various opinions entertained concerning the { • """ E+ti»M i i iGfb"^*"^^ ^^ ^^^ beautiful, that the frequent adoption of a ' ;, - f ■ partial and one-sided signification of terms, in the expo- -: ' ~ — sition or general and abstract principles, has led to ■'■.,- ^ "^ nothing less than a maze of conflicting: theories. I will, therefore, introduce here, two or three of the most strik- ing errors, or misapprehensions, which are ascribable to a too theoretical and limited conception of beauty, in order that we may, in the sequel, pursue unembarrassed, and in the path little trodden, of concilia tion , the analysis of the opinions entertained concerning the nature of our emotions, with a view to infuse order and clearness into those operations in which the impressions and impulses of the mind are concerned. irvv*. ■ v,v ,,r. Let us return to the causes of eiTor which result !'___»"''' I .../,*« from referring our pleasures of sight too much to . i-tavv zc^v»- w-uCi _.. .. ^_ & K — n— — r> ! ,'fi abstract principles in the forms beheld. To what OOllti'. other cause can we ascribe some of the striking con- tradictions which appear in Alison's inquiries into the principles of beauty ? For instance, in the pages on ^_^ ' architecture, the beauty of which he makes to depend upon the fitness of the parts to the purposes of the /tlt^giv- S ^fiuca^4 edifice, associated with impressions of magnificence, he alludes to the beauts in the proportions of a column as depending entirely upon its aptness to the degree of ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 15 support required of it for the pediment, or roof. He 'oca-ivCw ^^l^nto, multiplies the instances ; and setting, in the first place, pcrtictvJ c-l «. coiaiiuc; a sinole block on end ; in the second, a column on the block, now become its base ; and, in the third, the weight of the superincumbent portion of a building, upon the column ; he ascribes to the supporting pillar different proportions in succession, according as it has become the support of larger and more burdensome masses, attributing, in each case, the apparent fitness of the object to the impressions we receive of its solidi ty. So far he may be near the truth; but, elsew here, allud- Apjofutttij, ing to the iniinrssions of beauty which are related to oi i:vl vtJ^{-«> delicacy , he endeavours to impress upon his readers, that beauty, or at least elejjance, is to be found in an eminent degree in the tripod; and this, chiefly on account of the ideas of frailty and unsteadiness connected with its form, requiring, to use his own expression, "care in the handling." I can see no apology for so evident a contradiction ; and the apparent elegance of the tripod, if it possess that quality in an eminent degree, can only be accounted for by the tastefulness of the ornaments, which withdraws the attention from the insecurity of the object itself. His chapter on elegance and delicacy contains other similar contrad ictions. He j-ivvTi.i o~ acknowledges the flowing or sinuous lines to be a source Cwv,""^ inuu- : of great beauty, as characteristic of weakness and deli --,^ ^l_ „^^- cacy ; yet, elsewhere,* he ascribes a like merit to angular lines, as indicative of a liiglior degree of fragility, and attributes, particularly, great beauty to articles of glass * Vol. i. p. .11 ;4. 1() icsTur.Tics. cut in angular shapes, chiefly because the greater degree of fragility and delicacy connected with such forms, is conformable to the ideas we haye of the frailty of tlie material . It is not improbable that the source of such glaring contradictions might be found in the attempt to giye too much importance to these principles" of beauty, and to ascribe to t hem too extensive an influence in diflferent forms of matter.* Burke, after i-ejecting proportion, fitness, and per- fection, as elements of beauty, furnishes us with three principles of his own, namely, diminutiveness, smooth- ness, and gradual yariation of surface. Payne Knight maintains, with well-founded arguments, that the ideas of perfection which we habitually connect with diminu- tiveness, are owing to the impressions of submission and harmlessness which form the usual accompaniment, or characteristic, of this condition ; a circumstance which naturally engenders fondness and love. He shews con-, tempt to be the predominating sentiment where defi- ciency or demerit is implied.t It would, therefore, be conformable to the opinions of Payne Knight, to allow Burke's principle to be true in certain cases only : its applicability cannot, at all events, be general, since the beauty which we admire in buildings, monuments, and landscape scenery, increases as these objects, or scenes, become more enlarged and expanded. * The beauty of the angular forms which prevail in glass objects, might more reasonably be accounted for by the greater solidity which they afford as applied to so fragile a material, than from any principle of a dditional deli;- cacy or frailty ; and, in many cases, from the multiplicity of the reflected lights which result from a variety of angles. t Analytical Inquiry, part ii. chap. ii. par. 107. ON- TIIR BEAUTIFUL. 17 With respect to smoothness, a quality of far inorc extensive applicability than the preceding, most persons will, I think, admit it to be a source of pleasurable im- pressions in a great variety of objects ; nevertheless, so little has Uugald Stewart deemed it an essential and necessary principle of beauty in objects at largo, that he begins his argument on this point by stating that he cannot recollect any philosophical conclusion whatever, more erroneous in itself, or more feebly supported ; but he immediately after admits smoothness to be one of the constituents of beauty in a great many objects, the cause of which he ascribes to the connexion between the senses of touch and vision.* Stewart gives as the other causes of beauty in smooth objects, the quantity and bril- liancy of the light reflected by them, and those impres- sions of high finish and perfection which we naturally connect with such smooth articles as are the produce of art. With respect to the gradual variation of surface, which constitutes Burke's third element of beauty, we suspect that the author, in alluding to the fascinating cflccts of those lines gently melting into each other, as he expresses it, had forgotten the maxim, which he re- commends at the commencement of his essay, that in decisions of taste, the impulses which result from a calm l)erception of the beautiful, should be kept distinct from the allurements of passion. Wo can, indeed, scarcely applv this third principle of Burke, based on female • The opinions of Mr. Payne Knij^ht are entirely opposed to those conclnsions wliicli admit snioolhutss to form a conslitiient of l)caufy. See part i. diap. v. C 18 - .ESTHKTICS. beauty, to the more abrupt deviations of surface which characterize the bolder forms of the male sex ; to the athletic frame of a Hercules, or to the sinewy limbs of a Centaur ; far less to that beauty which may be traced, in deviations and transitions of all kinds, in natural scenery. Mr. Walker, in his comments on the theory of Burke,* does not admit the general applicability of any abstract principles of beauty, such as those which form the basis of Burke's system. The argument substituted by him does not, however, entirely do away with the theory that certain essential principles of beauty do exist; but asserts the existence of different species of beauty, each of which he circumscribes within certain definite limits in the natural world. His arrangement of these principles, based on the three kingdoms, — mineral, vegetable, and animal, might serve very well as a defini- tion of the elementary forms to be met with in these three kingdoms ; but does not, it appears to me, point out, or does so but very faintly, any principles of beauty which, in the numerous divisions of nature to which he respectively assigns them, claim our attention <»• excite our admiration more than other forms would do. He regards the sphere as the first element of beauty in inanimate beings, as that to which the parti- cles of matter, not subjected to pressure or violence, naturally adapt themselves. This may, as a physical fact, give some degree of interest to the globular form, since the circumstance that the sphere contains the * Walker's " Analysis of Reality," chap. yi. ON' THK BKAirriFUI,. 19 greatest mass in the smallest compass, by rendering this form tlie simplest in nature, gives it a peculiar mathe- matical interest ; but, independently of this, I doubt whether unprejudiced opinion would attribute greater beauty to the spherical or orbicular form than to manv others more or less analogous. The orb of the I'ising sun often excites great admiration ; but do not these impressions depend chiefly upon the accompanying cir- cumstances of sunrise and sunset ? And witliout these would the disc of the sun be more beautiful than other celestial appearances which do not present the orbicular shape, such as the crescent of the moon, Saturn with its rings and satellites, or some of the constellations ? It may be asked, in reference to the question of intrinsic beauty in the sphere, whether there is any thing essen- tially more beautiful in the form of an oranjje than in that of a peach, because the former comes nearest to the sphere ; and whether we do not admire the forms of these and other fruits, chiefly on account of their smoothness, delicacy, and the association of other pleasing qualities. Mr. Walker points out, as a characteristic of beauty in the vegetable kingdom, or, to use his own term, in living beings, firstly, the rounded or cylindrical form of the trunk and stem in trees and plants ; as though he inferred that the circumstance of their springing from the orbicular globe, caused the forms of those productions of nature in which the manifestations of life first begin, to bear a rude resemblance to that form which characterizes their mother earth. To these forms, closely allied to the primarv ones, succeed, ac- 20 .ESTHETICS. cordin" tu Mr. Walker's theorv, the forms which cha- racterize the more tender and developed parts of the plant, as well as those which are peculiar to animals ; all of which (such at least is the impression which this arrangement conveys) appear to deviate progressively from the primitive form of matter, as they become more remotely situated from it in the scale of existence. I will observe, with respect to these leading fea- tures of Mr. Walker's theory, that it may be highly interesting to examine, as a subject connected with the study of natural history, the forms assumed in succession by matter, from its rudest state to tliat of the most perfect organic developement ; but, as con- nected with aisthetic pleasure, or with our appreciation of the beautiful, such an arrangement must, I presume, fulfil its object very imperfectly. It is not the trunk of a tree unusually cylindrical, or any curve of a bough taken by itself, which excites our admiration, but far more the general form of an entire tree, or of a group of trees. Perhaps a flower will make us turn out of our way still further to behold it than any of these ; or else some other object, or association of objects entirely different in their nature ; and I presume that if we search for principles of beauty, we should look for them, in the first place, where their captivating influence lays the strongest hold of our fancy. Beauty — I mean that beauty which captivates — strikes us in a multitude of dissimilar ways. In most cases, there is no uniformity of relation between the degree of interest and the physical conformation of the object. With a difficult and ungrateful purpose, like that ON THE I5KAUTIFUL. !^1 wliifli Mr. Walker seems to have aimed at, of asso- ciating the various elementary forms presented by nature with distinct principles of beauty, I am not surprised that, after a persevering investigation of various authors, he should have lamented, in somewhat bitter terms of discourasrement, the confused condition of the materials presented by them, and the difficulties which the nature of tlie subject presents. Nature everywhere abounds in beauties, or in features fitted to excite pleasurable emotions ; but it is not in the physical structure and conformation of her parts that she addresses herself to the imagination. Let us now examine whether the observation of nature mav lead to the discovery of what may be called an essential principle of beauty. If, in that almost infinity of forms in which nature presents it, this quality strikes us more forcibly, or excites in us livelier impressions of pleasure, in some shapes than in others ; or if we observe that certain forms of beauty have a greater prevalence than others, and that their influence, instead of being limited to one class of objects, extends over several ; or if we observe, again, that a slight de- viation or falling off from these characteristics of beauty, produces a sudden and striking deficiency of this quality ; we conclude that there is something more in these forms than what others usually possess, which justifies the dis- tinguishing appellation of a principle of beauty. Yet if we come to this conclusion, as we perhaps miglit do to a limited extent, we have not yet determined the point, wlu'llicr tlu" greater amount of beauty which is ("xliiltilrti b\ certain forms, nia\ not Ix- due \n situation 22 .tSTUETlCS. and circumstance ; that is to say, to the association of ideas, which are either connected with such forms themselves, or which result from their combinations with other objects. The question, whether there exist abs- tract principles of beauty, that is to say, principles involving an extraordinary degree of beauty, inde- pendently of circumstance and situation, still remains. We can scarcely fancy a principle of this kind to be otherwise than unique, since we cannot admit several principles of beauty, without supposing them to differ, nor can we reasonably admit this, without supposing these different kinds of beauty to be subject to degree — that is to say, to afford unequal grounds for ap- proval and preference ; but, were the principle of beauty unique in its nature, objects of the most dissimilar kinds would be more or less beautiful, as they partook, to a greater or less extent, of the supposed primary cause of all perfection with reference to form. Does this supposition agree with the various impressions of the beautiful, which are associated, even by the same taste and judgment, with dissimilar objects ? But the dissimilarity of tastes renders it at once impossible to come to any conclusion, in this particular, equallv satis- factory to all opinions ; we may, however, briefly con- sider a few of the most essential points. I will examine, in the first place, whether there are any forms, concerning which we have sufficient evidence for concluding that they are beautiful in themselves, independently of any kind of association. Of these abstract forms, those which I believe are most gene- rally admitted to be beautiful, or to aflfect us with ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 2S unmixed pleasure, are the sinuous or waving lines set forth in the first place by Hogarth, and admitted, I believe, by most subsequent writers, to possess a greater degree of beauty than straight or angular lines ; but whether even these lines would have any unusual claims to this quality, without the associations which we so naturally connect with them, is a question which ap- pears to me far from being decided. The associations connected with waving lines are all of a pleasing cha- racter. This form is, as Stewart and Alison agree, a characteristic of tenderness and delicac\ ; but it is, moreover, the undeceiving mark of youthfulness, health, activity, and, I think I may add, of life, since the winding forms become less apparent, and often dis- appear, where the vigour of organic existence fails ; whereas, stiflPness and rigidity are represented by straight and angular lines. Since, however, the winding line possesses, in appearance, some degree of beauty, inde- pendently of any immediate and visible connexion with these associations, it may be considered to have unusual claims to that kind of distinction which is desigTiated by the epithet " self-beautiful." This acknowledged superiority of the waving form over the straight one amounts, however, to nothing more than an indeter- minate and sweeping consent that one class of forms is preferable to another, and does not give the supe- riority to any particular curve, sin(;e Hogarth does not state the degree or the progression of the curvature required in order to constitutes the most beautiful line. With respect to the other principles or constituents of bcautv disooverablo in nature, thev have still less '21 .i:STHETl('S. of an abstract character. Their influence or applica- bility is remarkably vaoiic and indeterminate, and is alternately supported and contested by different authors. For instance, alluding once more to the beauty of the sphere, maintained upon the principle of its simplicity, «e find it opposed by that very principle of curves having no common centre or focus, which AV'inckelmann, Burke, and some others after him, acknowledge to be such an important characteristic of beauty.* Else- where, namely, in Home, quoted by Walker, we find the square preferred, upon the same ground of its sim- plicity, to all other angular forms, such as the paral- lelogram, and other more complex angular figures ; whereas Alison, guided probably by the opinions of Hutcheson, prefers the more complex, though regular figures, such as hexagons, octagons, &c. to the square. If, therefore, we can hardly admit one principle of beauty upon the grounds of general consent, how can we explain those endless variations of the beautiful which are characteristic of nature ? If we now consvdt Hutcheson, whose views first attracted considerable notice in England, and to some extent on the Continent, we find a principle of beauty applicable in some cases, but almost untenable in several of the others to which it has been intended by the author to apply. The principle to which he ascribes so general and pervading an influence, is the combi- nation of uniformity and variety, the best and most * Winckelmann observes, " The forms of a beautiful body are composed of lines whose central point is continually changing, and which, though always curved, never describe a circle." — Histuire ilc VAil, \o\. i. p. 258. ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 25 uppropriate examples of which lie points out to exist in the regular figures above alluded to, such as pen- tagons, hexagons, octahedrons, dodecahedrons, &c. So far his theory may be plausible, for in figures which bear no particular mark of design or purpose, uniformity or simplicity becomes a no small degree of merit, and there is no doubt that the addition of variety renders these figures more pleasing to the sight ; but, whenever uniformity loses its purpose of imparting simplicity and rcgidarit), we find that other forms, such as those of trees, plants, and fancy ornaments, of which the parts have not sufficient connexion between them to consti- tute what is generally understood by uniformity, please equally well. And, towards the conclusion of his essay, Dr. Hutcheson appears to lose sight of his original purpose in the combination of variety and uniformity, by referring to the unity which prevails in the organi- zation both of plants and of animals, as being connected with the variety everywhere conspicuous in their forms or actions ; thus absurdly associating to the characters which affect the sight, those principles of internal me- chanism and structure, the beauty and adaptation of which only manifest themselves to us by examination and research, and which, therefore, form of themselves a perfection in their varied uniformity, differently ap- preciated, and (juite distinct, from the external forms which immediately fall upon the eye.* Thus we find a principle, which in some cases may be conducive to * Sec Ilutclicson's '■ Inquiiv into the orifjirial of our Ideas iil' IJiiiuty anil Viiiiic," K»>a) 1. p. •i'i, aiul Ibllowiiig [lagcs. 26 JCSTHETICS. the pleasures of sight, become weak and untenable, as soon as it is swelled up to the prevalence and im- portance of a general law. If, instead of affirming that those forms contain most beauty whicli associate the most variety with the most perfect uniformity, Hutche- son had maintained that it dwells chiefly in those forms which combine with simplicity the most abundant sources of emotion, he would, perhaps, have come a step nearer to the truth, though he would have equallv failed in pointing out the signs by which beauty, in its perfection, or in its varied characters, is expressed. Diderot, in the article Beau of his Encyclopjedia, ascribes our perception of the beautiful to a system of relations in the forms of objects. Stewart makes, in a few words, a rather severe and contemptuous com- ment on this theorv, for which he is in some measure justified by the importance and universality of Diderot's claims. But, setting aside this too great presumption, (which, bv the by, is seldom found wanting when favourite theories are propounded), it appears to me that Diderot's principle contains in itself a great deal of truth, and that its devclopement throws considerable light on several parts of the question. If the author flattered himself, that by pointing out the relations of forms and things he gave an explanation of what beauty consisted in, and taught us infallibly to discern the beautiful from the misshapen and ugly, Stewart may be right to the full extent of his accusation ; but if Diderot, as seems most consistent with the nature of his arguments, relinquished so great an aim for that of diffusing more general and clear ideas concerning ON THE HKAinill'L. ^7 the attributes of beauty, as manifested in the various forms of objects, his acute researches fulfil their pur- pose. The ideas which are connected with relations certainly go very little way towards designating any type of the beautiful ; the importance of these prin- ciples arises from their being indispensable agents. The painter or the sculptor would soon find out that, unless he maintained certain due relations between the parts of individual objects, or between various objects assembled together, he would make few steps towards the accomplishment of a work of taste. If he de- signedly alter the proportions of his object, every rela- tion (jf form must be altered conformably, or its character of beauty would instantly vanish. Thus, the influence of relation extends to proportion as well as to kind. Its prevalence is, in fact, illiraited. With- out relation there could be no distinction ; consequently, no diversity of form or character. Design, fitness to purpose, symmetry, proportion, and expression, and other such acknowledged principles of beauty, are all connected with, and dependent upon, the coexistence of relation of parts ; but from this very generalization of the term it loses all worth as a specific test of ex- cellence. We, moreover, discover beauty in nature, when the objects presented to us seem to afford dif- ferences, ratlier than relations, as is understood by this term in vulgar phraseology ; for we admire greatly, in a landscape, the union of a cottage and trees, of mountains and water. Technically speaking, however, it may be said that these very diff^'rences are relations ; and, ill fact, the whole of nature affords nothing but 28 ESTHETICS. relations, taken in this sense. It will, therefore, be not very difficult to see that relations, unless explained, qualified, or specified in a particular manner, will not guide us far in the discrimination of the beautiful. Diderot's merit is in having shewn the far-extended and perhaps universal influence of relation, and in having, it appears to me, sufficiently proved, by well-grounded argument, that this principle absorbs, in its compre- hensive and all-pervading influence, all minor and more particularizing definitions. Diderot adduces very happy instances, taken from passages of poetry, to prove that language owes its force of expression to relation ; and though, with regard to form and distribution, the in- fluence of this principle may not at first sight be evident, its importance in colouring becomes at once conspicuous and striking, as we have no harmony, nothing even gratifying to the sight, without certain arrangements and relations of colour.* Let us now consider those conditions or circum- stantial principles of beauty, respecting which, with very few exceptions, all authors who have treated this matter agree, namely, proportion, regularity, and sym- metry, conditions which are intimately connected with the important principles of fitness and design, of which they are in general the expression.t The predominance of regularity and symmetry is chiefly apparent in objects of art and industry ; but the principle of symmetry is likewise manifested, throughout the animal kingdom, • See " Relations of Colours." T See Alison's opinion on Dc-iigu, Essav II. cbaii. n . i-cc. -• ON THE BEAUTIFUL. 29 in the conformity of the corresponding parts or lateral halves of each individual. We must not, however, forget that these are conditions which involve, it is true, certain classes of forms, hut do not themselves constitute any determinate form ; as, for instance, re- gularity and symmetry demand corresponding shapes at corresponding intervals, but do not determine the pre- cise nature of those shapes. They may, however, to a certain extent, be entitled to the appellation of prin- ciples of beauty ; firstly, on account of their extensive influence in the works both of nature and art ; secondly, because the impressions connected with them are of a nature precise and definite, whilst the least deviation from them, produces a marked and striking falling off in the beauty of the objects to which they apply. The prevalence and importance of regularity and symmetry are, doubtless, to be ascribed almost entirely to the circumstance that our wants and conveniences are best supplied, either directly or indirectly, by forms based upon these principles ; and the habit of asso- ciating the forms of objects with the purposes which they best fulfil, induces by degrees the conviction that these forms are, in themselves, the most perfect, and that they are the marks of design. Hogarth has given, in tlic following lines, a very ingenious and strikingf demonstration that it is to ideas of fitness, and not to proportion as a mere mimicry of counterparts, that regularity and symmetry owe the beauty which we connect with them. " If the uni- formity," he observes, " of figures, parts, or lines, were trulv the chief cause of beautv, the more exactly 30 .KSTIIETICS. uniform their appearances were kept, the more pleasure the eye would receive ; but this is so far from being the case, that when the mind has been once satisfied that the parts answer one another with so exact an uniformity as to preserve to the whole the character of fitness . . . the eye is rejoiced to see the object turned and shifted, so as to vary these uniform appear- ances. Thus the profile of most objects, as well as faces, is rather more pleasing than their full front. Whence it is clear the pleasui-e does not arise from seeing the exact resemblance which one side bears the other, but from the knowledge that they do so on account of fitness, with design, and for use."* Alison, likewise, states his conviction that it is to the expression of design that uniformity and regularity owe the impressions of beauty which we connect with these qualities ; and proves his assertion by observing that where regularity is the result of chance, and not of design, its appearance conveys very different im- pressions.! This connexion of design with the beauty of regular forms is further proved by a circumstance pointed out cursorily by Mr. Home. In referring to the principle of regularity in geometrical figures, he observes that a parallelogram loses its beauty when it constitutes a * It is probable that Hogarth docs not intend to imply by i^e term profile, as is usually meant by it, an exact side view, since he alludes imme- diately after to the beauty which the countenance acquires " from being turned a little on one side and slightly inclined." — See Hogarth's " Analysis of Beauty," chap. iii. p. 19. t Alison on Taste, vol. ii. p. 64. ON THE HKAUTIFUL. 31 mere approximation towards equality ; " for propor- tion there degenerates into imperfect uniformity, and the figui-e appears an unsuccessful attempt upon a square."* It is evident that this remark would apply to all objects in which regularity constitutes a mark of design. The least visible departure from regularity in such objects, would cause in us a sensation of dis- satisfaction and uneasiness ; whereas in those combi- nations of forms in which the occasional occurrence of regularity appears to be the result of mere chance, we see with perfect indifference, a greater or less degree of approximation to any regular form. I must next refer to the important influence which Reynolds has attributed to custom, in forming our taste for the beautiful. It will hardly be necessary to state, that the opinion of this eminent and truly philosophical artist, was, that in every species, both in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, beauty was to be found midway be- tween all extremes. " Nature," as he expresses himself, " inclines towards one fixed and determinate form, like various lines terminating in one centre ; and as these lines all cross the centre, though only one passes through every other point, so it will be found that perfect beauty is oftener produced by nature than deformity." In a subsequent sentence, Reynolds confounds the beauty which is proper to organized beings with that which is conspicuous in fashions. He here seems to have lost sight of the fact, that in all created beings, and even in * Sec Walker's " Aiinlysis of Ht'inity," p. 7(1. •'3'2 .icsTiimrs. tilings which apply to the uses of man, heaiity is in- separable from those conditions which have immediate reference to their destination, and tliat the principle of custom can hold as long only as it corresponds, in some beings and objects, with the adaptation of means to ends. Reynolds, unfortunately, carries his principle of custom so far, as to make it, as it were, an essential and almost unconditional element of the beautiful ; and his doubtless somewhat hasty assertion, "that if all the world would agree that yes and 710 should change their meanings, yes would deny and no would affirm," has not only considerably lessened that share of reliance to which his theory is entitled, but given rise, on the part of Stewart and Burke, to the expression of opposite opinions, calculated to perplex a question, concerning which there are, it appears to me, no strong grounds for dissent, provided the influence exercised by custom or habit be rightly appreciated. Stewart refutes the doctrine of Reynolds : firstly, upon the ground, that although custom, by which we are to understand the most frequent recurrence of the same form, should determine our preference for one individual over another of the same species, " the question still remains to be answered. On what principle do we pronounce the beauty of one speqies to be greater than that of another ?" And he further elucidates his argu- ment by asking, "Whether, upon the principle of custom, we can pronounce the rose to be more beautiful than the dandelion, the peacock than the stork, and a beautiful woman to he the masterpiece of nature's handi- ON THE BEAinrFUL. 33 work."* But I cannot see that the influence of custom is rejected, even by this argument, provided we consider custom as a powerful auxiliary, and not an essential quality of beauty. Custom is tlie tuition of nature ; it instructs us how to apply the various forms and appear- ances before us, to the ends and purposes which they have been intended to serve ; it teaches us how to appre- ciate these forms and appearances at their true value, and to ascribe to each of nature's works, the exact degree of perfection and beauty which is consistent with the position marked out for it in the creation. Coming more directly to the question before us, I must observe that the beautv of the rose, as well as that of the peacock, being, in a great measure, if not ])rinci- pally, dependent on colour, these examples do not ex- actly come within the limit of an inquiry which regards form. But putting colour aside, we shall, I apprehend, equnlly find, that we do not discover the whole beauty wliirh belongs to each object, until custom, or the habit of judging and comparing, has made us fully conversant with all its qualities. If we had not, fnmi our youth, been accustomed to associate the habits and character of each living species with its form, it seems very doubtful whether we should he as sensible as we are now, to that kind of beauty which is peculiar to each. In the grey- hound, the terrier, the stag, and the horse, we admire tlie most opposite expressions of form, because, custom having made us conversant with tlicir (jualities and habits, we are able fullv to appreciate that perfect con- * Sec Stewart's " PliilDsophical Essays," part ii. p. 349. D 34 .'T;sthetics. formity of structure with the purposes required, which, in every species respectively, constitutes the index of beauty ; and even when the exact knowledge of their respective habits is wanting, custom, combined with the influence of opinion, has taught us to give our tacit and willing acknowledgment to the perfection of each. It is in this manner that custom greatly assists in making us sensible to those kinds of attraction, seemingly uncon- nected with purpose, which determine our predilection for certain pet animals ; and if, on the other hand, we ascend to that beauty which, in the human countenance, is the expression of supreme intelligence, and of every tender emotion, habit again powerfully assists in that communion of sentiment, without which, many traces of beauty must remain undiscovered, although the pre- valence of those sentiments and emotions which are inseparable from the contemplation of human beauty, considerablv modifies, in the last case, the influence of habit. Had Revnolds limited the bold assertion above quoted, to ornamental designs and patterns, which are intended to please the eye, without reference to utility, it might have held out against every objection ; for, in such figures as these, regularity is the only principle which remains stable, — the rest is merely conventional : and when the world agrees (that is to say, the world of fashion,) that one design is more beautiful than another, it becomes and remains so until a contrary verdict is pronounced. But this doctrine could not apply to nature at large, unless we could reverse the purposes to which all things have been adapted, and discover, for ON THR HKAl TIITK. 35 instance, in the leg, the conformation required for car- r)ing ; in the arm, the requisites for walking ; in the ear, those for smelling, &c. I expose, without hesi- tation, the ridicule to which the unreserved application of this statement of Reynolds would lead ; because I feel convinced that it was custom, associated with the principle of adaptation to purpose, that he had chiefly in view throughout his argument on the principle of beauty. Stewart has, it appears to me, given an uufavourable and incorrect interpretation of the general meaning of Reynolds's text, when he reasons upon custom as of a principle unconnected with anv thing else, considering it as a mere repetition of the same thing, or of the same occurrence, a great many times ; for this meaning he distinctly implies, when he alludes to the fall of heavy bodies to the earth, as instances of that which is common or customary.* Now this frequent recurrence of the cflfect of a natural cause, on which Stewart grounds his second objection to Reynolds's theory, has, as I think will be perceived, very little connexion with the greater prevalence, in sensitive beings, of that form which is midway between every extreme, and which wc conse- quently regard as the most customary one. Nor does the principle asserted by Burke, in order to prove that proportion and custom have nothing to do with beauty, appear to me to be better founded. The substance of his assertion is, that deformity is not the opposite to beauty ; and that proportion and regularity may prevail, * See Stewart's " riiili><:o|)liical Essays," p. 351. 36 .liSTHEIlCS. without its being neccssarv tlint l)oauty should follow,* Now, if deformity were not opposed to beautv, we niiuht remove the former, and yet come no nearer to the latter ; but all persons will, I think, admit that the removal of a deformity produces, in every instance, an approach to beauty, and that its presence invariably causes a de- parture from it. Indeed, it appears evident, that deformity is nothing else than the excess of those minor defects and blemishes, the existence of which suffices of itself to destroy beauty of form : and the more our eye is conversant with those forms, which, in every species, present least of these defects, and come nearest to perfection, the more sensible we are to the charac- teristic beauty of each. Mr. Harding, alluding tme ;" but I tliink ho does not sufficiently develoj)e his idea, tlie erect position of the head and bust being, in fact, the expression itself of the energy, * Stewart. |). 114. t See I'.ivnc Knif;lit, Part III. chiip. i. par. 17. 48 ESTHETICS. firmness, and elevation, of a mind abounding with sub- lime emotion, whereas the opposite bending attitude, generally marks despondency, discouragement, or still meaner propensities. The sublimity of the human stature, therefore, is not in the erect position itself, any more than it would be in that of an upright pole, or monument of any kind, but in the mental energy of which it is the symbol ; and this, probably, owing to the mechanical effort made to raise the head and body, cither in conceivinor elevated schemes, or in carrving out noble actions. Proceeding from a partial fact to a more general one, we may ascribe, with Stewart, the fundamental principle of that sublimity which is connected with elevation, chiefly to the effort and energy required to overcome a force, namely that of gravity, which, though purely mechanical to our external senses, becomes thus, indirectly connected with our moral existence ; an exercise of energy, which, in all cases, is attended with great and admirable results. As a further (;ause of this connexion between elevation and sublimity, on which Stewart so much dwells, may be added, that it is chiefly in looking upwards that we become impressed with infinity and mystery ; - — boundless extension when the vapoury film of clouds is withdrawn ; and when the zone of mist is spread above us, that kind of uncertainty and doubt which is connected with almost all the phe- nomena of the atmosphere. The interior of the earth, which we look down upon, it may be said, affords equally striking examples of uncertainty and mystery. But it is the earth's surface with its distinct productions, and THK SUHr.lME. 49 not its recondite recesses, which first falls upon the eve, and which we habitually contrast with the vague and undefinablc wonders of the regions above us. Alison, in ascribing impressions of the sublime to warlike instru- ments of various kinds, falls, I think, into the same kind of error as Burke does, when he affirms that this emotion is raised at the aspect of the meanest animals which are injurious or dangerous. Both extend the principle of the sublime to objects which possess, if I may so express myself, but so small a particle of it, that in cases in which these objects are most usually introduced, either into paintings or descriptions, other impressions prevail, and whatever there may be of the sublime, is forgotten. If we see a raised dagger, or perceive a levelled gun or pistol, we may feel anxiety for the person whose life seems endangered ; — the presence of snakes or of scorpions may, in a similar manner, awaken our interest, sympathy, or alarm ; but of the sublime, I see here very little, unless there be something great or noble connected with the incident, of which these instruments of harui, of whatever nature they may be, form a part. For instance, the dagger may become a sublime object in connexion with the death of Julius Caesar ; and the snake, with that of Cleopatra ; but attach these instru- ments of death to some incident of common life, and they lose, at once, all their sublimity. A wolf, a dog, or a bear, may be rendered sublime objects, if they be made to have some share in the formation of a suhliine subject; as a stream, a tree, or even a flower, niiu be made to form a part of a sublime composition : hut in I'illier rase, the scene which lomprebonds these objects E 50 iESTHETlCS. is not sublime because they are found in it, but because it possesses other features which are more essentially sublime. Remove any of these creatures or objects : — the composition may perhaps suflFer much in its pleasing effect, but very little in its sublimity. An object trulv sublime is one which itself imparts greatness to the subject of which it forms a part, and which, in any com- position, extends and magnifies that which it mav al- ready possess from other causes. In opposition to the opinions entertained by Burke, concerning the emotions of grief, fear, and terror, Pavne Knight adduces, from the writings of Lonjrinus, conclusions which contemporary critics have overlooked. According to these tenets, grief and fear arc not in themselves characterized by sublimity, but, inasmuch as they tend to humility and subjection, thcv are rather the reverse ; and it is only by its association with the exercise of energ)' and power, that the impression of danger partakes of the sublime. Where fear so far predominates, as to extinguish those impressions of energy and power which are immediately associated with the cause of danger, the sublimity which is con- nected with it, disappears, and gives place to opposite emotions. The storm, according to Payne Knight, has sublimity to him, only, who has sufficient strength of mind to dispel all apprehension of danger, and who, consequently, enjoys the calm necessarj- for contem- plation.* Setting aside those differences of opinion to which * See Payne Knight, part iii. chap. 1, par. 55. THE SUBUME. 51 I have ])iirtly alluded, cind which appear to result chiefly from the too great influence which has been ascribed to trivial and partial causes, it vi^ill be found that there is, in general, more consistency than might be expected in the opinions entertained, even by dif- ferent authors, on the nature of the sublime. This principle, indeed, embraces several conditions of events or matter, so apparently different from each other, that unless all authors had fixed upon the same, or had alluded to every one of them, their views on this subject must have differed considerably. We cannot admit in the Sublime, as we do in the Beautiful, a principle having a like tendency wherever it manifests itself. The latter, we discover to be that which is most pleasing to sight in every object, and the most pleasing of all, in the object which is the most susceptible of imparting pleasure. But the impressions of the sublime, present themselves considerably modified, in the various ap- pearances and incidents of nature with which they may be connected ; and the theories of the authors to whom I allude, are not more opposed to each other, than might be expected to result from this apparent diversity in the nature of the sublime itself. In Blair, we find as its chief characteristics, impres- sions of (tiDe and terror, sokmnih/ and rastness. It expresses the highest degree of grandeur. Burke, who has been more unfortunate in his ex- amples, than in the principles which he asserts, likewise admits awe and terror, as fundamental causes of the sublime, adding, as secondary agents, obscinifj/, potrcr, rttsf'wss, infiiiifji, and iii/ii^/iificence. 52 .ICSTHETICS. Stewart attributes to elevdtio/i, tin- chief cause of the sublime ; and associates with this principle, the influence of the laws of gravitation, as well as the opi- nions entertained, at all periods, respecting the celestial abode of the Divinity. In Alison, we find occurring, the same expressions of danger, awe, solemnity, mngnitude, elevation, extent, magnijicence, and power. According to Payne Knight, mental energy, from the feelings of sympathy which it excites, seems to be a ruling source of the sublime. The author of " Modern Painters" deviates very little from the theory of Burke, respecting the sub- limity which is connected with danger and death, and concurs with Blair in ascribing the highest degree of sublimity to greatness in the noblest objects. Mr. Inglis, in an elegant description of a romantic scene in Norway, gives his testimony to the influence of impressions of power, in constituting the sublime. In all these various definitions of different indi- viduals, we may trace some quality which has reference to wonder, reverence, or admiration. Their connexion is, I think, sufficiently marked, to show that unpreju- diced opinion is nearly unanimous as to the general nature of this emotion. As before observed, however, the instances to which the sublime is applicable, differ widely. The dignity and profound sagacity, which may be its ensign in the head of a Jupiter, seem to bear but a faint analogy to the terrors of a thunder-storm ; or the expression of fortitude and virtue in the human features, to the mysterious gloom of a forest, or the starry vault THE IMCTUUESUUE. 53 of heaven : yet, if we are able to trace the various im- pressions connected with these objects, to one same source, we ought, I think, to feel satisfied, that they are allied to one another. Do not the dignity and foresight which the Greek artist has graven on the head of his god, and the terrors of the thunderstorm, bespeak alike, power ? And is not the same principle alike pre- dominant, in the mysterious grandeur of the scenery of nature, and in the serenity of innocence itself ? Great- ness, magnificence, elevation, duration, extent, and danger, though they may differ, and be, in some mea- sure, opposed to each other, are all referable to power. Power, therefore, more than any other attribute, be- comes the foundation of all emotions of the sublime ; and power, or rather, omnipotence \_allmachf\, may be regarded as the key to all the other expressions of the sublime included in our phraseology. THE PICTrUESQUE. With reference to the picturesque ; — this term, according to Gilpin, is derived, in the first place, from the suitableness of the objects characterized by it, for pictures ; and, in the second place, from a degree of roughness, ruggedness, shaggedness, and other similar qualities, possessed by them. But he erroneously as- cribes the suitableness of ]iiitures(]U(' objects to the purposes of tlie artist, to this character of roughness and 54 .ESTHETICS. irregularity ; and draws a mistaken inference, that the smoother objects become commendable to the painter, only because they possess a certain degree of irregu- larity of surface, or modification of colour. It is true, that in the landscape, the irregularity and apparent roughness of a great many objects, greatly contributes to that variety which renders them so well suited to the composition of a picture. Rocks, mountains, and ruins, are, in general, marked by a great degree of irregularity, and are, at the same time, eminently picturesque objects. But it does not follow, that smooth objects must be ex- cluded from the picture unless we can discover some means of making them rough. By endeavouring to prove that rough and smooth objects are equally right in their place, I should be encroaching on the subject of variety ; and shall here only allude to some of the cases in which a certain degree of roughness, or of diversity of colour in the surface of objects, adds, ac- cording to Gilpin's peculiar views, to their claims to the picturesque, or to the honour of becoming part of a picture. Alluding, in terms of admiration, to the beauty of the human form, he adds, that " the more its smooth surface is ruffled, tlie more picturesque it appears ; and that Avhen it is agitated by passion, and swoln by strong emotion, the whole frame is shown to the most ad- vantage."* How completely does the author here forget the true causes of the delight which the image of the human figure is capable of exciting, to put forward in ' Ste Gilpin's " Essay on Picturesque Beauty," p. 12. TllIO I'ICTUKESCiUE. 55 their stead, a principle, namely, the picturesque, which must be entirely lost in the case alluded to, and which can only predominate in a class of objects of an opposite order ! The cart-horse is preferred, for the harder lines of his form, the roughness of his coat, &c., to the pam- pered horse of the livery stable ; yet, owing to the diversity of lines which mark the coat of the latter, he is not considered by Gilpin so unpicturesque, as to deserve being banished from the picture altogether.* Does he suppose that the swiftness apparent in his limbs, the fire of his eye, and the courage, tempered by mildness, expressed in his countenance, are nothing to the point ? In short, could he not discover in the thorouiibbred Arab, any qualities, besides the spots and roughness of his coat, to cause admiration, or welcome his presence in a production of art ? The same author ascribes, in a great measure, the picturesqueness of a lake, to the diversity of shades occasioned by the objects reflected there, " thus causing it, though in fact smooth, to appear rough or uneven."t As we neither ruifle the surface of a glassy lake, nor the polished coats of animals, to render them interesting and valuable objects in the artist's studio, we may, I presume, be sufficiently satisfied, that they have some (pialities, besides these variations of surface, which render them suitable objects for a painting. Though Gilpin does not ascribe a distinct character to the beautiful, he follows the footsteps of Burke, in * Sec '• Essay on Picturesque Beauty ," pp. \i-'22. t Ibid. p. '2-2. 56 ESTHETICS. rendering smoothness one of its chief constituents, whether the objects to which this quality applies, he large or small. This establishes a marked distinction between it and the pictui'esque, which, in the opinion of this author, is only compatible, as above stated, with roughness and ruggedness. Price takes up the question nearly on the same ground as Gilpin, and developes his ideas, by ascribing the cause of the picturesque, to the eflPects of time, in fact, to the wear and tear of nature. But finding that the pic- turesque has features which are not always met with in beautiful objects, he seems to fancy, that the beautiful expresses a distinct emotion, and that, as well as the pic- turesque, it is a generic principle. It does not occur to him, that there are other terms, such as " elegant," " graceful," " delicate," the signification of which, is more directly opposed to that of picturesque, and which, therefore, are more appropriately used as distinctive epithets.* Dugald Stewart discovers the mistake of Mr. Price, resulting from the partial view entertained bv him of the term "Beautiful"; and observes, "that he was neces- sarily led to this conclusion, by the admission, at his first outset, of Mr. Burke's peculiar tenets, (respecting the beauty of smooth objects,) as so many incontrovertible axioms." Stewart ascribes to Beauty, its usual sig-nifica- tion of degree rather than kind, and to the picturesque, a * Dugald Stewart, alhiiliiig tu tho theory of Price, observes that " he ought to have extended the application of the word 'Beauty' to whatever qualities in natural objects affect tlie mind witli agreeable emotions through the medium of sight." — Philusuphkid Essiiijx. third edition, p. 303. THK I'lcrURKSQUE. .57 moditying or embellishing principle, which may even en- hance the former.* l?y remarking, however, subsequently, that an object mav be beautiful without being picturesque, or picturesque without being beautiful, Stewart seems to contradict the principles upon which he allows that a pic- turescpic object so essentially contributes to the beauty of a subject. In Stewart's observations on the picturesqueness of the ass,t we find a remarkable instance of the errors which arise from seeking out causes from afar, when they are to be found immedintely at hand. He acknow- ledges, with Gilpin and Price, the picturesqueness of the ass, and of other humble animals, to result from their rough and shagged outline ; yet he mentions, as a great omission on the part of these authors, that kind of pic- turesque beauty which he deems to be resulting, in the ass, from association with the passages of scripture in which mention is made of this animal, as well as with the fables of ^Esop, and the classical language of other ancient poets. This is indeed seeking a long way off, that kind of pictorial merit which we discover in the humble beast of burden standing bv the mill, or tethered beside the green load of the woodman. t I do not, how- • Alluding to I'rice, Stewart observes, " Instead of making the pic- turesque a distinct genus from the beautiful, it would certainly have been more logical to say, that the former is, in some cases, an important element in the constitution of the latter. For my own part, I cannot conceive any principle whatever, on which we can reasonably refuse a place among the elements or constituents of beaut)-, to a class of qualities, which are acknow- ledged, on all hands, to render whiit was formerly beautiful, more beautiful still."— P. 310. t 1". .-no. i It appears that the late Kev. Sidney Sjnith thought so little of the .08 iESTHKTICS, i!ver, see, that this seeking after remote causes by a dis- tinguished author, in order to throw furtlior light on an exhausted subject, should seriously weaken the conclusion, to which such strong evidence is borne by the unanimity of most writers, that it is chiefly to ruggedncss, roughness, and other marks of rusticity, that impressions of the picturesque are owing. We might in vain seek far and wide, amongst the arguments of various writers, to find a denial of this point. But the picturesque, like all other qualities of objects which please and delight us, being spoken of with a certain degree of enthusiasm, loses, generally, when used descriptively, and in the warmth of admiration, those characteristic distinctions, according to which, we are disposed to give it a meaning apart from all those which imply other conditions of beauty. Its signification becomes the more generalized, as we behold, or describe, with increasing rapture, the objects or scenes which are depicted by the term ; and it is, there is no doubt, by the extension which it has in this manner acquired, that it has been employed to signify, as Gilpin affirms, all those beauties which are peculiarly adapted for the formation of a picture. With reference to the sentiment of the picturesque, Humboldt's scientific researches respecting the pro- gressive developement of a taste for natural scenery, from the remotest periods of history to the present time, as enounced in the second volume of his " Kosmos," have given considerable interest to the question, how far merits of the ass, as a beautiful animal, that, with the intention, doubtless, of improving upon nature, he deemed it advisable to Iiave stags' horns fastened to the heads of those whicli fed in his grounds. THE PICTURESQUE. 59 landscape painting was cultivated by the ancient Greeks and Romans, and to what extent, a feeling for the beau- ties of nature in general, was entertained. The following passage bears most directly on this subject : — " In Gre- cian and Roman antiquity, which we call classical from the peculiar direction in the minds of the people, land- scape painting was as little an independent object of art, as was the poetical representation of the country. Both were merely treated as something secondary. Subordi- nate to other objects, landscape painting served only, for a long time, as the background of historical compositions, or as an accidental ornament of pictures on the walls. In a similar way, the epic poet, by an artistic description of the landscape- — I might almost repeat, of the back- ground, before which the actors in the scene are moving, — represents the locality of some pictorial event."* These doubtless orioinal sugfgestions of Alexander von Hum- boldt, for which the distinction of the name which is connected with them, as well as the general and popular nature of the subjects treated, claim a large share of attention, afford a remarkable instance of the increased importance which all observations and discoveries derive, from any propitiating circumstances which attend their announcement. The remarks, equally fi-ee from ambi- guity, expressed, in the last century, by the Rev. Mr. Twining, respecting the indifference of the ancients for the picturesque beauties of nature, as shown both in their paintings and poetry, appear to have fallen into oblivion, and not to have met the eye of more recent commentators. * " Kosmos," I'ritchiinrs translutioii, vol. ii. ]). 74. 60 a;stiikiics. I give the following selection of Mr. Twiniiig's remarks.* "... For it appears, I think, from all that has been transmitted to us of the history of that art among the ancients, that landscape painting either did not exist, or at least was very little cultivated or regarded, among the Greeks. In Pliny's account of Grecian artists, we find no landscape painter mentioned, nor anything like a landscape described in his catalogue of their principal works. The first and the only landscapes he mentions, are those said to be painted in fresco by one Ludius, in the time of Augustus . . . He seems to have been the Claude Lorraine of ancient painting. But that land- scape was not, even in Pliny's time, a common and established branch of painting, may perhaps be pre- sumed from the single circumstance of its not having acquired a name." The author here alludes to its being called by Plinv, periphrastically, " an agreeable kind of painting, or subject, ' anicenissiinam picfurai)),' " — and continues, further, " The Greek poets did not describe the scenery of nature in a picturesque manner, because they were not accustomed to see it with a painter's eye. Undoubtedly they were not blind to all the beauties of such scenes, but those beauties were not heightened to them, as they are to us, by comparison with painting — with those models of improved and selected nature, which it is the business of the landscape painter to exhibit. They had no Thomsons, because they had no Claudes. Indeed the influence of painting, in this * See Dissertation First, "On Poetry considered as an Iiiiitati\c .\rt," prefi.xed to the translation of Aristotle's Treatise on Poetry, by the Rev. Thomas Twining. Published in 1789, pp. 34-3(i. THK GROTESQUE. ()\ respect, not only on poetry, but on the general taste for the visible beauties of rural nature, seems obvious and indisputable. . . . Such beauty does imitation reflect back on the object imitated." In notes which are subjoined to the preceding passages, further proofs are adduced of the insensibility of the ancients to landscape beauty. Mr. Twining alludes to the deficiencv of any single term, either in the Greek or Roman language, appropriated to express exactly what ice mean by a prospect. He says that Pliny, in his Epistles, book v. epistle 6, and in the 17th of 2nd book, "has frequent occasion for such a term, but is obliged to have recourse to circumlocution." After a quotation from Winckel- mann, who is referred to as one of the safest authorities in ancient art, he observes, that " Men and manners were the only objects which the Greeks seem to have thought worth regarding, either in painting or poetry." THE GROTESQUE. In most respects, the grotesque differs very little from the picturesque ; and most of the foregoing remarks will, therefore, apply equally to it. In some respects, however, it does deviate from, or at least greatly exceeds, tli(> picturesque, in the expression of similar characters or ideas. Dugald Stewart ascribes the origin of the term, to certain figures and devices which nro painted in fresco, on the walls of a subter- 62 .KSTMKTirS. ranean grotto at Rome, alludint;, |)r()ba1)lv, to the fantastic figures and arabesques in the Columbarium of the Villa Doria Pamfili, of which the character exactly corresponds with our present idea of the grotesque ; although it seems more probable, that the term grotesque is due, rather, to a certain resemblance between a wild and capricious style of painting, and those whimsical freaks of nature which the artificial grotto sutrgests. There is something more exaggerated, more fan- tastical, and more allied to the caricature, in this style, than there is in any production having the character which is usually designated by the term Picturesque. It seems to admit, in some degree, of the supernatural, of the magic, and fiendish ; since the representation of fauns, satyrs, and witches, is particularly calculated for carrying out ideas and impressions decidedly tinged with the grotesque. This peculiarity of the grotesque, proves that there is a principle in imaginative art, capable of affording considerable interest and delight, which has not, I believe, been hitherto alluded to. It acts strongly on the imagination, and very little on the tender passions; and, probably for this reason, it has not won the exclu- sive homage of any style of art. Its most successful and appropriate arena is the stage. However, the style of painting which is designated as the grotesque, involves a large share of it, although it cannot be exactly termed its representative. THE GRACEFUL. 63 THE GRACEFUL. I have already alluded to the errors which Alison has fallen into, in attributing to grace, a character at variance with the usual and popular opinions entertained concerning it ; but, in as far as he establishes a con- nexion between impressions of gracefulness, and those curved and winding forms which are the result of motion, his views appear to be substantially correct. It is, in fact, one of the characteristics of motion, to produce sinuous lines ; whereas, its cessation, or abrupt inter- ruption, produces a sudden break or disturbance of the flowing line, and thus becomes the source of the angular form.* Whether, as Alison affirms, the grace of motion is increased by the impressions, that the past, the present, and the future, appear linked together in fugi- tive action, is, perhaps, less evident, although there is, doubtless, a peculiar charm in the motion of living objects. Alison further alludes to freedom and ease in motion, as being necessary conditions of the graceful. With respect to fi'cedom, it must, doubtless, have, here, a relative siirnification, as a straight line would result from motion deprived of all restraint. Motion may appear perfectly free, in living creatures, because it is considered with reference to the act of volition which is its imme- diate cause. Restraint, in this case, can only be the * Sec .Vlison's " Essays on Tnstc," vol. i. \>. :?.'i4 ; vol. ii. p. 210. G't .i;sriiKTics. result of some external force, whitli prevents the limb from obeying the will ; and although the muscles are compelled to move in a certain manner, and with certain restrictions, necessary to the purposes of the animal when in action, yet, provided there be no hindrance or compulsion from without, the motions of this living being, are considered to be perfectly free. But the expression, " perfect freedom," would not apply equally well, to the organic creation without life. A tree, or a plant, may, indeed, appear perfectly free in its growth, when not hampered by other trees and plants, when nothing leans against it, or bears it down to the ground ; but if the natural growth of trees, that is to say, their tendency to rise upwards, were to remain perfectly unchecked and uninfluenced by external causes, it is probable that the vegetable kingdom would present much less than it does, those curved forms which are so agreeable to the eye. The wind, the weight of the fruit and blossoms, the rain, and even the dew, are causes which, with many others, vary, in a thousand ways, the curves and twistings which are peculiar to plants. It is not, therefore, the entire absence of external force, but the removal of all violent exercise of it, that is required, in order that the kind of gracefulness which is the result of motion, should occur. Few forms are more elegant than those which we admire in a single jet of water under the influence of the wind, or in the curling of smoke agitated by a light breeze ; a kind of graceful motion which, in both cases, is the result of a force which controls and modifies the first impulse. Even in objects of art, the most graceful forms appear to be parabolic curves, which correspond with THE GRACEFUL. 65 those, which, in the laws of nature, result from two forces acting upon each other in different, though not in opposite, directions. In jars, vases, and ornaments, the parabola, the hyperbola, and the helix, are, in general, preferred to those forms, which, being composed of the sphere, have but one focus. All men of taste seem to agree, that there is something exceedingly beautiful in the gradual, but progressive, deviation of any line from its primitive direction. Square, cylindrical, and globular forms, are more capacious, and therefore more useful, than those which have a narrow stem or base, but which, gradually and progressively expanding, form a widened orifice. Can we, upon this principle, admit fitness to purpose to be an element of the graceful, as it is, frequently, of the beautiful ? Does it not seem, rather, that in these deli- cate and slender forms, in which grace stands predomi- nant, use becomes rather the apology, than the end ? and that, in attaining the graceful, it is the imagination that we chiefly consult, — that light and delicate fancy, which the reminding, too directly, of the wants and purposes of life, would alarm ? If we might trace the grace of inert form, to a more direct influence, than that which is exercised by motion on flexible and elastic bodies, it would be, to the quality of lightness. A figure is light, when it appears to require but a sliirht cff"ort to raise itself above the surface of the heavy earth ; as a vase, or jar, appears light, when, having great elevation and little bulk, it seems to rest, with little weight, upon its support, ami carries the imagination pleasingly upwards. This principle of grace, F 66 AESTHETICS. is very different to that tottering insecurity, which Alison ascribes to the tripod, and other articles of furniture, which require so much caution in handling them. The object is graceful, not because the smallness of its base renders it insecure, but because its very lightness is proved by the smallness of the space required for the foot to rest upon, and which would cause the overthrow of a heavy or ill-proportioned vessel. This kind of grace, derived from lightness, applies, therefore, more particu- larly to upright objects ; for those which are reclining, whether they be slender or massive, require no lightness, dexterity, or art, to keep them in their position. But a reclining figure, I mean a figure from the life, main- tains, in a great measure, that lightness which charac- terizes it in an upright and moving attitude. The ideas of lightness and grace, become, in this case, associated with those forms which are best adapted to the manifesta- tion of these qualities ; and when we see the figure in a recumbent, and even sleeping attitude, we still connect, without any effbrt of the imagination, the form before us, with the means possessed by it for light and graceful action. It may be remarked, that the graceful is not obtained by being made the end or aim of any particular form or attitude. It should, on the contrary, be the natural con- sequence of a different aim or purpose. For instance, a figure standing on tiptoe, with its arms raised, would appear any thing but graceful, if this kind of beauty were to be made the aim of that particular position ; whereas, suppose the same figure to be gently raised to gather an apple, and it will become distinguished, (form MADONNA TiELLA SCdDELLA. Bv Ciiheooio. IN THE AOeADElIIA f)F PAr.MA. THE GRACEFUL. 67 and attitude being tastefully combined,) by a high degree of grace and elegance. In the same manner, a figure in motion becomes graceful, not when the limbs appear to be put forward, or extended, with the object of obtaining grace, but when grace appears to be the unpremeditated, and almost unintentional, consequence of the lively action which the figure is called upon to exercise. In Cor- reggio's painting of the Flight into Egypt, called the Madonna della Scodella, now in the gallery of Parma, this principle is beautifully modified. The infant Christ stretches out his hand to receive the dates offered by Joseph ; but all his thoughts and affections seem to be concentrated in his mother, on whom he is reclining. Thus, the artist, by an ingenious and most tasteful arrangement, has availed himself of a mere accessory cause, for the developcment of the most graceful form and attitude. The accompanying plate can give but a faint idea of the exquisite taste which has prevailed in the arrangement of the group, in the original. In every case, the graceful results most, as it appears to be less in- tentional, but seems to be the necessary consequence of purposes remote and different. How far this principle may extend to inanimate nature, is not so evident. Whether, for instance, we connect greater ideas of elegance with the tall narrow lighthouse, because it is destined to carry afar off its warning signal, — or to the slender mast, when the flag waves at its top, — or with the bridge, when the graceful- ness of its arches appears to be resulting, rather, from the best contrivance to its useful purposes, than from a separate and intentional end, — may be open to doubt. 68 JESTHETICS. If the rule that use and purpose must be the end, some- times misapplies altogether, with respect to purely orna- mental objects, such as porcelain jars and vases, orna- mental flowers, arabesques, &c., it is, most probably, when the purposes of utility of such objects are so slight, that they arc lost sight of, and their particular form and arrantreraent can have no other aim than elegance itself; for, since they have no pretence to usefulness, we cannot disapprove that they should claim to be designedly grace- ful or ornamental. ELEGANCE. What has been said of the Graceful, will, in a great measure, apply to Elegance ; and, as it is not my wish to create more distinctions than are consistent with the im- pressions, of a definite character, which are connected with certain classes of objects, I need not dwell upon a term which, in several of its applications, becomes syno- nymous with gracefulness. It is, perhaps, more extended and indefinite in its applications, than the term " Grace- ful." Thus the term " Elegant," may be applied, indif- ferently, to a composition in painting, to a style of writing, as well as to various kinds of buildings ; whereas "Graceful" is chiefly limited to those objects and compositions, to which lightness and delicacy may be applied. Elegance characterizes the manners of a nation, and Grace those of an individual. It may be further remarked, that Elegance frequently requires an ELEGANCE. 69 accompaniment of acquired qualities, which simple and artless grace rejects as superfluities. A woman may he elegant from the union of very dissimilar qualities, by her manners, and in a great measure by her style of dress ; but she owes gracefulness chiefly to natural deli- cacy and ease. Owinor to the ideas of rank and hiffh breeding which are sometimes associated with the term " Elegance," it may be applied to man ; which, again, shews that it differs in some respects from the Graceful, which is applicable chiefly to the female sex, and to childhood. Thus, from its simple and unadorned nature, Grace suggests less the concurrence of various qualities than Elegance does ; and, though both are generally associated in the same object, Grace has the most distinct and definite meaning, and we may conceive it to be more independent of Elegance, than Elegance of Grace. PRINCIPLES NECESSARY OR CONDUCIVE TO THE PERCEPTION OP THE BEAUTIFUL. COMPRISING ASSOCIATION. CONTRAST. VARIETY. DESIGN. REGULARITY and SYMMETRY. INTRICACY. INDISTINCTNESS. ASSOCIATION. Before considering the principles which, like variety, contrast, and symmetry, have a dii'ect influence in causing impressions of the beautiful, I will introduce the import- ant principle of Association, which is loss determinate, but more extended in its influence. Alison claims a great share of influence for this principle, in the enjoyment which is connected with the contemplation of nature. The leading views propounded on this point, in his introductory essay, are clear and satisfactory. The object which the author appears to have chiefly in view throughout his argument, is to prove that it is not the form itself of matter, which causes our pleasure in beholding it, but the expi'ession or meaning associated with that form ; that it is, in fact, the sign, and not the substance, which infuses various emotions into our minds ; and he points out successfully, that the rela- tion which our internal impressions bear to the various external signs presented by nature, becomes the source of ASSOCIATION. 71 an endless variety, in the pleasures which result from this association. I should not omit to allude, here, to a very apposite remark to be found in the " Penny Cyclopaedia," under the article " Beauty ;" since it establishes a distinction be- tween Association as applied to Form, and as applied to Colour, and thus affects the question at its onset. The author of the article referred to, observes, " The beauty of visible objects consists of two parts, viz. the beauti/ of colour and the heautij of form, which, although closely connected with each other, arise from different sources, and from sources of a different character, inasmuch as the one appears to be, in most cases, a simple emotion, and therefore an ultimate fact, of which no explanation can be given, while the other is a pleasure derived from association, which is susceptible of analysis." I might be willing to admit, with the author of the article, that the emotions of beauty are, with regard to colour, facts, with which association remains perfectly unconcerned ; but this conclusion could apply only to colour uncom- bined, and unconnected with form ; for no sooner does colour become modified, either bv changes and combina- tions which regard itself, or by its relations with form, than it becomes, in common with the latter, a promoter of all those various and combined impressions, towards which the association of ideas contributes so large a share of interest. If we admit that certain colours please, of them- selves, more than others, we do not thereby prove, that they cannot be rendered more pleasing still, by Associa- tion, and that, in fact, the associating principles which 7!^ /ESTHETICS. apply to form, arc not connected, more or less, with the different appearances of colour. The intimate relation of form and colour is shewn, whenever we replace the usual colour of any object by one less fitted for the pur- pose. Every one is aware how unsightly most objects of use or ornament would appear, if dressed in colours opposite to those which are customary. If, therefore, the relation of the form and purposes of the object to its colour, be so intimate, we can hardly suppose that the principles of association which would apply in one case, would fail to do so in the other. Returning to the inquiry as to the general influence of association, I will here introduce one or two cii'cum- stances, which, it may be, are familiar to most short- sighted persons, shewing that, at the first glance we obtain of an object, it is the impression which is asso- ciated with it, and not the object itself, which takes hold of our mind, and that there is an instantaneous con- nection between the external forms of objects, and pre- viously acquired impressions. I have mistaken white linen, floating, at a distance, in the wind, for the steam of a locomotive engine, the motion of the linen producing exactly the same effect as that of the sudden jets of steam. A few moments sufficed to destroy the illusion ; but this did not take place gradually during that time ; and although the image of the linen, fluttering in the wind, which appeared at first so perfectly to represent steam, must have been gradually modified as I advanced, the impressions which I received, were not progressively changed ; but when I hit, all at once, upon the fact, a revolution, equally sudden, took place in my ideas, and ASSOCIATION. 73 the meaner impressions which ai'e associated with the drying of linen, were at once substituted for those which are connected with a train in motion. A white railing has presented such a perfect resemblance to water, as to produce, likewise, complete deception, for a few moments : and in this case also, my ideas, as I advanced towards it, did not pass gradually from the impressions which are connected with a smooth sheet of water to those which belong to a white railing, as would have been the case, had my thoughts followed the progressive transformation of the image impinged upon the retina ; but the idea of the railing came all at once upon ray mind, and this idea, rather than the visible object, suggested impressions en- tirely different to those which are connected with the characteristic appearance of water. If others have ex- perienced impressions, similar to those which I have here described, when discerning objects indistinctly at a dis- tance, we may conclude, that the immediate and usual effect upon the mind, of an object as it becomes visible, is, to suggest a train of thoughts bearing on the nature of that object. Whenever uncertainty, or improbability, is connected with the appearance of any object, as sometimes occurs in travelling, a sensation of uneasiness is produced ; whereas, the discovery of the true nature of the object doubted about, is attended with emotions of satisfaction ; thus realizing, in a very evident and palpable manner, the fact, so generally admitted, that it is to the evidence, afforded by objects, of their aptitude and fitness to their intended purpose, that all our ideas of their harmony and perfection are to be ascribed. 74 AESTHETICS. Earlij developeme?it of the injlue7ice of Association. — If, from these familiar examples, we pass to those more extended and general influences, which are con- nected with Association, we shall equally find that it has an important share in producing those pleasures which we expei-ience in heholding the scenery of nature. We may trace this varied influence of Association, even in early infancy. The kind of delight which is mani- fested by children in the use of toys, is, in a great measure, derived from the relation of these toys to objects of use, or of greater value and importance. A child does not content himself with admiring the pretty colours, or the fanciful shapes, of a little set of culinary and other similar apparatus, but takes pleasure in put- ting them together, in the same manner as would be required for the use and operations of real utensils. He sets his dishes in array, builds a house with his bricks, tries the locomotion of his carriage, and the speed of his horse. All these are, doubtless, pleasures of association, which feed and satisfy the mind of the child, in the same manner as the river with its boats, suggestive of easy motion, of trade, and other similar ideas, and the forest, telling us of the wild herds and feathered flocks which people its recesses, or filling us with the more indefinite impressions which are connected with the growth and character of trees, afford, in our later years, charms, linked together, and heightened, by Association. It may be urged, as a defect of this theory, that Asso- ciation must have a beginning, and that objects or scenes must, in the first instance, afford us direct pleasure, in order that the recurrence of them, or of such circum- ASSOCIATION. 75 stances as are fitted to cause a renewal of the impressions previously felt, should inspire us with joyful sensations. In answer to this difficulty, we may suppose the con- dition of the mind to be such as to require constant change for its entertainment, and that, unless frequently enlivened by new objects and circumstances, it would grow heavy and oppressed. Variety is, indeed, the na- tural food of the mind. To escape from the monotonous occupations, and confined atmosphere, of the apartment, is, in itself, a change, fraught with sensations of pleasure, at all periods of life ; and this pleasure is proportionate to the novelty and striking character of the objects, which a flight into the expanse of nature introduces to our notice. The seeds of pleasure having been thus sown, a renewal of the objects or scenes which first caused this pleasure, or an impressive allusion to them afforded by other scenes and objects bearing a striking resemblance to the former, becomes the germ of associated enjoy- ments. Thus, the mind of the child, which, in the first place, demands only to be called from one bauble to another, because the second differs from the first, and thus affords variety to its imagination, learns, by degrees, to connect new ideas with new playthings ; its embryo affections and passions are roused ; one toy excites wonder, a second promotes daring, a third inspires am- bition, and a fourth begets fondness and love ; all of which, being primitive sources of emotion, open the way to the more extensive and varied pleasures of association. The kite continues to amuse, after the wonder caused by its ascent into the air has subsided ; whilst the box of 76 iESTHETICS. little agricultural instruments yields a prolonged interest, by affording occupations, which the infantine, but as- piring mind of the child, gladly associates with those of husbandmen. It will, I think, be perceived, that Association thus begins almost at the same time as the pleasure which is derived from novelty. It is so intimately connected with it, and tends so much to its increase, that the distinction is exceedingly faint, and often indefinable. Whenever we are struck with sudden surprise and admiration at the aspect of great and beautiful objects, the sensations of pleasure are, as far as I can judge by my own experience, of a primitive kind, and almost unconnected and unassociated ; whereas, the pleasures of association chiefly prevail, in the contemplation of those scenes which have ceased to overpower the mind with novelty and wonder, but leave room for pleasing reminiscences, founded on circumstances dear to us, or on previous enjoyments perhaps oftentimes renewed. We may, doubtless, ascribe to surprise and admiration, the pleasure which we derive at the fii'st sight of the Alps, or of any other extraordinaiy works of nature. After the enthusiasm of the first moments has subsided, the more indistinct impressions connected with the main- tenance of the snow under a glaring sun, and the size and number of the rivers which it supplies, as well as the practicability and manner of sojourning in these peculiar regions, successively maintain the interest. But, though the pleasures of association may thus gra- dually prevail, the first, and consequently the most ASSOCIATION. 77 powerful impressions, arc wonder and admiration at objects so cxtraordinarj- and beyond the sphere of con- ception. Thus, in endeavouring to follow the connexion between the various pleasures of sight, through the pro- gressive developemcnt of the mind and expansion of the intellect, it appears to me that we may ascribe the earliest sources of pleasure to change and novelty, to which succeed the excitation of the tender and noble passions, and those primary impulses of delight which emanate from an intellectual relationship with the works of the creation : the pleasures of Association then follow, closely interwoven with the primitive emotions, in their varied and far-extending influence. Alisons views on Association considered How- ever forcible may be Alison's conclusions, in his intro- ductory essay, respecting the influence of Association, one cannot read through his work, without perceiving that he has, in several cases, given too great an ex- tension to this principle, and embarrassed a subject which he had begun with a clear exposition. For instance, taking up views entirely opposed to those which I have quoted from the " Penny Cyclopaedia," he ascribes almost entirely to Association, the beauty of colours ; and we are compelled to infer, from what he says on this subject, that they have, in themselves, little or no power to please, and that everv attraction which they possess, pi'oceeds from our habit of con- necting them with various prereceivcd impressions, such as may result from their having obtained the sanction of rank and fashion when applied to dress. In observing 78 ^ESTHETICS. (vol. i. p. 303), that " no new colour is ever beautiful until we have acquired some pleasing association with it," Alison seems to forget, that, in aerial effects, we are frequently struck with the beauty of colours which we either never saw before, or which, from their seldom occurrence, add the charm of novelty to their natural splendour ; and that the introduction of a flower with which we have not been previously acquainted, becomes a most usual source of delight. In alluding, in his introductory essay on the emo- tions of Sublimity and Beauty, to the additional at- tractions imparted to certain spots, from the recollections awakened by them of memorable events, Alison seems to have entertained an ill-founded opinion, that the interest of deeds of renown, or of political importance, associates itself easily and naturally with the sublimity and beauty of scenery ; an opinion which I am so far from sharing, that I believe the existence of any striking natural beauties, like those which the passes of the Alps afford, would have the effect of obliterating in the mind of an observer, the impressions which are connected with any important but remote event, such as the passage of Hannibal, excepting in those moments when the ad- miration of actual and present grandeur, gives place to meditation ; and that the interest of a memorable action is, in general, more easily revived, in proportion as the locality in which it occurred, abounds less in such na- tural attractions as would divert the attention from con- siderations of the past.* * See " Accidental Association," p. 86. ASSOCIATION. 79 Alison, elsewhere, bestows considerable pains, in de- tecting the influence of Association on various kinds of lines, — on those signs which, being disconnected with any useful or interesting purposes, are least of all sub- jected to its influence ; * and he is thus led into argu- ments which appear to be wanting in his usual force and penetration. He observes that strong and angular lines express strength and harshness, and are therefore very seldom beautiful : and that strong and winding lines express strength and gentleness or delicacy ; that their effect is mutually destroyed, and that they are, accord- ingly, indifferent, if not unpleasing. Amongst others, Alison discusses the merits of a fine and angular line, which he maintains to be beautiful, only when the ex- pression of delicacy prevails over that of roughness. This seems to be little else than a contradiction, since we find neither in nature, nor in our own ideas of harmony, fineness associated with roughness or jaggcdness. The feebleness of these arguments evidently results from the application of Association to things, which, in themselves, are as little connected with it, as are geometrical propo- sitions. The extension of a principle beyond the due limits of its influence, has, doubtless, misled many ; and by thus endeavouring to carry beyond the bounds of their real merit, the principles of beauty ascribed by Hogarth to simple lines, Alison seems to have used, unawares, the best possible argument in favour of those principles of Association, based on character and ex- pression, to which he elsewhere rightly assigns so ex- * Sec Allison's coiuidcratiuns on " Accidental Association," vol. i. p. 33fi. 80 iESTHETICS. tensive an influence. If we may allow, with him, that fine lines are, in general, to be preferred to strong ones, it is, doubtless, because they convey to us the impression of slender and delicate objects, or, if not of objects slender and delicate in themselves, of those, at least, which are rendered so in appearance, by intervening space and atmosphere. When delicate lines are made to represent hard and massive objects, they affect us less agreeably than would heaNaer lines, which are more consistent with the nature of such objects. With respect to smoothness or roughness, I think it will be found, that our approval or disregard of these qualities, in abstract lines, arises chiefly from the impressions conveyed by them, of skill or clumsiness in the tracing of them. It is a matter of mere practical dexterity. It is, however, sufiiciently she^Ti by the general tenor of the argument in which these remarks on the beauty of lines are introduced, that Alison, himself, attached no great importance to form, independently of Asso- ciation ; and his division, or classification, if it may be so termed, of the various influences of Association, is, if considered with respect to its general tendency, and not to some accidental errors, particularly calculated to instruct the mind respecting the pleasures which are connected with the perception of various classes of objects. These leading divisions, as given, nearly in the words of the author, are, firstly, the expression which we connect immediately with any particular forms in nature, which he calls their Natural Beauty ; secondly, the qua- lities of design, fitness, or utility, indicated by these forms, called their Relative Beauty ; and, thirdly, the ASSOCIATION. 81 Accidental Associations which we happen to connect with them.* Alison establishes, in connexion with his second prin- ciple of association, namely, the relative beauty of forms, three further distinctions,! which I will now consider. These are based, in reference to a given object, on the excellence or wisdom of the design ; on the fitness or propriety of the construction ; or on the utility of the end. The first consideration appears to me but the complement of the two last, since the excellency of the design, with regard to any work or object whatever, is in exact proportion to the utility or greatness of that object, and to the fitness of its construction to its in- tended purpose. That object is the most excellent in its conception and design, the aim of which, having been best fulfilled, is at the same time of the highest oixler. The representation by art of this, Alison's second prin- ciple of association, consists, it must be acknowledged, in nothing more, than in making a thing appear fit for the purposes for which it was intended, — a man or beast fit for action, — a house for occupation, — water smooth and flat, — clouds light and buoyant, &c. It is a faithful, though, it must be added, intelligent, imitation of nature ; for, if not effected with a certain degree of skill and art, the representation of these material and living objects, would not convey the impression that they are well adapted to fulfil their respective purposes. The kind of beauty, therefore, which objects acquire from this principle of association, being founded on their ma- * See Alison's Essays, vol. i. p. 318. f Vol. ii. p. 57. a 82 ESTHETICS. terial or physical adaptation for use, is of the simplest description, and ought, I think, to have heen placed the first in the order of Alison's treatise. It is a kind of perfection which is satisfactory, because necessary and understood by every one ; and the want of which pro- duces uneasiness and discomfort. Its faithful translation in the language of art, aflFords, chiefly, that kind of satis- faction which we experience at striking examples of practical skill. That kind of Association on which Alison makes the Natural Beauty of objects depend, being based on the characteristic, intellectual, or moral, expression of objects, does not refer to the circumstances of our common wants, and is less within the compass of our habitual thoughts. It requires, therefore, a greater intellectual effort and power of the imagination, to trans- mit to an observer, by any process of art, those emotions which are due to this kind of Association. Since, how- ever, the expression of grandeur, beauty, and power, in the objects of the natural world, speaks eloquence to the mind, and makes a direct appeal to the sympathies of man, it is by the association of these and similar emo- tions, that art, especially the art of Landscape Painting, acquires one of its most successful means of affording delight. It is a means of very general resort, admitting of taste and judgment, but without pretence, and almost without danger. Accidental Association. — Those indirect and vary- ing pleasures of Association, which are connected with what Alison terms the Accidental Beauty of objects, may either be limited to individuals for whom certain places ASSOCIATION. 83 and objects have a peculiar kind of interest, or they may be general, that is to say, they may affect a large body of men, or a whole nation, provided all its members may equally receive pleasure from becoming associated with any particular event or incident. It is evident, that it is only when applied to large masses of men, that this kind of Association can be rendered available to art, since it is necessary that all who witness any object of art, should be alike partakers of the interest which may accrue from Associations of this kind. The employment of Accidental Associations, both in painting and in sculpture, may become highly advantageous, if limited to the clear indication of remarkable facts by some simple and natural means ; for instance, by the cii'cumstances which are peculiar to the habits of animals, or to the growth of plants, or by some sign or episode ingeniously introduced : but supernatural appearances, or incon- sistent and improbable occurrences, often lead to great absurdities, when resorted to for this purpose. M. Quatremcre de Quincy devotes many pages of his work on the Ideal, to what he terms the " Mctaphoric Style of Painting," and which is based chiefly on the interest which is derived from accidental or distant Asso- ciation.* Apparently desirous of impressing French artists with the great advantages of this style, he enters into a long exjjlanation of the different modes by which it may be introduced into painting and sculpture. He recommends the naked figure, as well as the Greek costume, on the principle that any departure from the * Sec " Essai sur I'ldeal," dissertation ii. § .I. 84 ESTHETICS. matter-of-fact expression of modern usages, is favourable to ideality. He even goes so far (though he perhaps expresses himself rather indefinitely on this point) as to recommend, in historical compositions, a departure from real form and action. He alludes, in support of these principles, to the diversity of manner in which different individuals would view and delineate the same object, though present before them ; and adds, that the dis- similar descriptions, and antagonist views, which are entertained by different persons, concerning by-gone oc- currences, produce still greater differences in the form in which I'emote events have been transmitted to us. In the metaphor, the author generalizes an extensive subject in a simple idea or expression. A still further condensation constitutes what he terms " the Allegorv ;" hut he agrees that in the fine arts, the allegory is chiefly employed in bas-reliefs, medals, and such cases in which the want of space does not admit of the full developemcnt of the subject represented.* M. de Quincy has shown himself judicious in making this reserve ; for however pleasing the metaphor may appear, when introduced as a mere episode in the leading subject, it would evidently be a departure from the general principles of art, to make so conspicuous a use of it, as to substitute an allegory for the true and natural representation of any event. The carrying of this principle a little further, would inevitably lead to the conclusion that a mere sign or hieroglyphic would have the same merit as a finished picture, if the meaning conveyed by it were equally im- * See " Essai sur I'ldeal," dissertation ii. § 1 1. ASSOCIATION. 85 portant and extensive. Of what use would be, in this case, lights, shades, colours, transparency, depth, and har- mony ? Our principle of operation would be changed ; we should have substituted one art for another ; and we might as well make the substitution complete, by using letters instead of signs. The kind of Association termed by Alison " Acci- dental Association," to which I am still alluding, may sometimes be introduced successfully, and with pro- priety, into historical paintings, provided the scene represented, be such a popular one, that the observer would easily detect, and perhaps seek of his own accord, any incident tending to give the subject an interest and an expression, different to that which it at first sight appears to have. If the subject be a less familiar one, the incident which serves to link the events expressed with those which arc alluded to, or understood, should be rendered the more clear and distinct. Unless the metaphoric allusions are rendered, in this case, con- spicuous and evident, the features and attitudes of the figures must appear false and unmeaning. Every look, gesture, and expression of passion, will either appear without object, if the cause be not made evident, or will be attributed to a different and more probable cause ; for we are always disposed to give the most probable and natural interpretation, to the composition of the artist, until we have clear and evident reasons for infer- ring that a more remote one has been intended. In the Landscape, the introduction of Accidental Associations, that is to say, of remote principles of interest, is fraught with much greater difliculties and 86 /ESTHETICS. chances of failure, than in the Figure. The means of pointing out indirect events, are there much more limited, and their introduction, if not made with much taste and contrivance, would engender triviality. The heauties of nature are, of themselves, as elevated and engrossing, as the associations and sympathies imme- diately connected with them, are extensive and lasting ; whereas accidental Associations, even those which have some historical interest, seem to partake of a character of littleness, when compared with the works of nature ; but their insignificance, when introduced into landscapes, arises, I presume, still more, from the difficulty of pointing them out in a distinct and satisfactory manner. It cannot be easy to impress on a composition, at the same time, the sublimity of romantic nature, and that kind of interest which is connected with particulars of mere local or personal import ; for the attempt thus to produce a twofold meaning in the same subject, gives rise to stifi'ness and constraint in the expression of either. It can, I believe, scarcely be doubted, that the striking inconsistencies which sometimes appear in the landscapes of the present day, arise from the attempt to introduce unusual and peculiar effects ; and that, in historical pictures likewise, a great many defects are ascribable to the circumstance, that artists jjenerallv seek novelty of expression, in some remote and far-fetched interpretation of a subject, instead of contenting them- selves with those more simple and obvious truths in connexion with physiognomy and the signs of emotion, which come at once home to the feelings of the observer. CONTRAST. 87 By consulting, in the expression of his subject, the most natural turn which the action would take at the moment of the deepest interest, the artist conveys at once to the observer, the impression of consistency and uni- formity of design ; and I believe that a little reflection will bear the conviction with it, that the productions of an excited imagination, however bold and energetic, would fail to afford anv permanent delight, unless go- verned by such a degree of consistency and truth, as would render the expression of the subject at once con- genial to the deep-rooted sympathies and feelings of every one. It appears highly probable that we may, in a great measure, ascribe to a departure from this prin- ciple of simplicity and unity of expression, in modern historical compositions, the great falling off" which cha- racterizes them, in the eyes of almost everv observer, when compared with those of the old masters ; and I may perhaps add, that it is the more general adherence to it in the landscape, which has determined the steady and uniform progress observable in this branch of art, considered in its most comprehensive developement. CONTRAST. I will here consider, chiefly, those points in relation to Contrast, which aff"ect the imagination ; reserving for another part of the work, those which relate to chiaro- scuro. The contrasts which chiefly operate on the fancy, arc those oi proportion and expression. Contrast 8S /T.STIIETICS. of proportion makes a thing appear either larger or smaller than it really is ; and contrast of expression makes a thing appear of a different character, — softer or rougher, livelier or gloomier, more gentle, more severe, more delicate, or more coarse. Contrast of Proportion. — Examples of this kind of Contrast are aiforded bv every colossal monument of art which is set off by diminutive objects. For instance, the apparent height of a gothic tower, or cathedral, is increased by the elaborateness of its decorations ; and the statue of a giant is shown off by another limited to the proportions of the human stature ; for it is well known, that without objects of comparison, having dis- tinct and uniform dimensions, no exact idea can be formed of the size of architectural monuments, nicely proportioned, nor, in many cases, of the dimensions of a figure, the parts of which are well adjusted. Indeed, the more perfect the adaptation of every portion of the whole, whether it be a building, an interior, or a statue, the more readily the eye of the observer is deceived respecting its real magnitude. The disproportion of any one of the parts, betrays the impotence of the arti- ficer to carry out so great a design ; the eye detects the littleness of the hand which has raised the structure, and the visible marks of effort seem to indicate that the scale of the work is exceedingly great. Where the harmony of the parts equals the boldness of the design, no apparent labour is perceived, and the dimensions of the work can be discovered only by the relations of external objects. Thus, Contrast of Proportion, based on the relative dimensions of various objects, becomes CONTRAST. 89 one of the most useful and available means of erivinjr grandeur to a composition. But the method of increas- ing the apparent size of objects, by comparison, if made to exceed what is natural or probable, as it frequently is in the imitative arts, must have a very bad influence with regard to those truths which depend on correct drawing and perspective. Contrast of Expression. — With respect to contrast of expression, it becomes generally and strikingly apparent in those opposite forms, habits, and dispositions, which are manifested in the various tribes of the animal creation ; such dissimilar and opposite characters as slenderness, agility, gentleness, or docility, opposed to bulk, sloth, fierceness, or voracity : but in the vegetable kingdom, where contrast of expression is chiefly limited to diifer- ences of form, it becomes manifest, with less extension and variety, in such differences of character as are exhibited respectively, by the various trees and plants. And whereas, in the pastoral scene, the fleecy coat is opposed to the bristly hide, exertion and vigour to an attitude of Tepose, the landscape-painter opposes the ruggedness of the thorn to the lightness of the birch or willow, as did the poets of old, the grim deformity of Vulcan to the grace and delicacy of Venus. The influence of Contrast is perhaps less evident, with regard to the beauty of the human form, considered individually. It is by its oppo- sition to symmetry, that the variety of contrast there becomes chiefly aj)parent ; for in the limbs, symmetry and an exceeding variety of form appear most remark- ably contrasted and blended at the same time. And vet, in the higher branches of art, of which the 90 iESTHETICS. human figure is the basis, it must be acknowledged, that, as a source of pleasure, Contrast is inferior to those per- fections which constitute grace and beauty, and more especially to the expression of the emotions, sympathies, and aflTections. Its influence is chiefly confined to the relations of various objects, or of different parts of the same object. Here are its limits ; and we lose all traces of it, as soon as energy of expression, intent of purpose, combined with a lively sensibility in the airs of the counte- nance, awaken that kind of interest which is felt with enthusiasm. Contrasts of Succession. — Impressions connected with the pleasures of contrast, are likewise those of change, novelty, or surprise ; but these relate more par- ticularly to contrasts of succession, and are, therefore, little available for the purposes of art, which only embrace one moment and one scene of action. Contrasts of succession are those which occur in the progi'ession of the day, particularly at sunrise or at sunset, or which entertain the traveller as he journeys along, when plains succeed to precipices, and cultivation to the wilderness. But although the interest afforded by tran- sitions of this nature, cannot be communicated imme- diately to the observer, by any style of art, they may still be made conducive to the pleasure and entertainment of a composition, when they appear to be pointed out more or less indirectly. As for instance, the light of dawTi which breaks forth from the east, by conveying to the mind the impression of a rapid change which will soon light up every object still buried in the uncertainty of gloom, kindles the fancy, and suggests a thousand imagi- VARIETY. 91 nary objects very remote from the positive expression of colour ; and although, as far as the features of the picture are concerned, minutes pass away without the dissipating of a single shadow, without a single gilded ray appearing on the mountain tops, the fancy discovers, during that time, the beautiful tints of dawn spreading over the hills and distance, and pictures to itself the shadowy forms kindling into a brilliant existence, as they successively emerge into the sun's eifulgencc. In like manner, the energetic expression of a storm may be rendered so enfjajjino', that the imagination becomes concerned with all those changes which succeed each other with such beautiful eflPect, when nature is in active operation. Impressions of succession are often communicated by a form of composition which points out more than it dis- closes to view, as is effected by the half concealment of objects ; whereas the fancied power of penetrating beyond the visible limits of the scene, is greatly checked by the want of space and atmosphere, which results from a too- crowded arrangement. VARIETY. We find mentioned in Montesquieu* that Variety is one of the chief sources of beauty. This is a fact which few persons would think of controverting ; but as a * "CEuvrcs dc Mouttsquicu. Kssai sur Ic Goiit. Dc3 Tluisirs Ue la Variety," p. 590. 92 iKSTHETICS. tliorougli conviction of its truth would be most likely to result from the knowledge of the arguments which miyht be raised against it, I will introduce those which have been used, in opposition to the opinions of Montesquieu, in a modern French work on the imitative arts, by M. Keratry.* The author observes, as a proof that we do not naturally court variety, that we often seek for scenes already familiar to us, in preference to new ones, and that there is within us, a growing attachment for the same object, which would not be the case if variety and change were one of the chief sources of pleasure. But, although every one should agree, with M. Keratry, that there is, in our disposition, an increasing fondness for things, as we become more conversant with them, and that we love to sympathize with old places and old recollections, it does not follow that this disposition prevails to the exclusion of all others, and that there is not, at the same time, a de- cided and prevalent taste for change and variety. They are, in fact, two distinct principles, doubtless both equally necessary, and equally in harmony with the other attributes of our mental organization. The disposition alluded to by the commentator, would have the effect of increasing the interest which we feel for any particular work of art, such as a picture or a statue, as we have it longer in our possession ; and, though we should even, at last, get to cherish it as a darling object, we should not wish to see its resemblance in all other pictures or statues, but be gratified, as before, with regard to art in general, by diversity and novelty. The eagerness with which we seek * " Du beau dans les arts d'imitation." Paris. 1 822. VARIETY. 93 the excitement, not only of new compositions, but of new styles of art, proves that there is a taste for change, not less than a gi'owing endearment for the same objects. But our love for novelty applies, chiefly, to that diver- sity which is demanded of a succession of works. That kind of variety which enters into the composition of a single work, is governed by the many other principles, such as character, elegance, harmony, and others, neces- sary to its perfection, and becomes subservient to the rules of taste. If a conclusion could be drawn against the existence of any one inclination within us, from the prevalence of an opposite one, we might object to the predominance of a taste for Variety, upon the ground that there is, in general, a decided predilection for simple forms. But this only shows, that it is not necessary that the ex- clusion of one sentiment, should follow the introduction of another. The impressions which are usually con- nected with simplicity, are those of effecting a great purpose with little means, of a discerning economy of material and labour, — consequently of intelligence and skill. These impressions do not, in the least, interfere with that pleasure which we owe to Variety. Simplicity and uniformity, far from being principles opposed to Variety, in the extensive scale of nature, are, on the contrary, highly conducive to it ; for, in order to pro- duce diversity, in a scene composed of many objects, it is necessary to have recourse to a principle quite op- posite to that which ensures variety in one object only. For instance, uniformity in a single object will some- times produce sameness and monotony j whereas, in a 94 yT';STHETICS. scene composed of many objects, it will add to the variety of the whole ; for, if the greater number of the objects be irregular and complex, the more simple and uniform is that which we oppose to them, the greater will be the variety resulting from this combination. It is pleasing to observe the coincidence of several authors in assigning this character to the variety of nature. Price observes to this effect : " The true end of Variety is to relieve the eye ; not to perplex it : it does not consist in the diversity of separate objects, but in the diversity of their effects when combined together ; in diversity of composition, and of character." And further, — " There is no having variety of character without a certain distinctness, without certain marked features on which the eye can dwell."* And Stewart remarks ;t "A deviation from uniformity, in the gi-and outlines sketched by the hand of nature, enhances to an astonishing degree, the delight arising from the regu- larity, which, in her minuter details, she everywhere scatters in such inexhaustible profusion." And Alison, - — " Beautiful forms must necessarily be composed both of uniformity and variety ; and this union will be perfect, when the proportion of uniformity does not encroach upon the beauty of embellishment, and the proportion of variety does not encroach upon the beauty of unity."t Lastly, in old Hogarth, we find, as clearly expressed as in any other author, that Variety does not result from the most dissimilar forms accidentally mingled together, * " Essays on the Picturesque," vol. i. p. 235. t " Philosophical Essays." Third edition. P. 284. I " Essays on Taste." Si.\th edition. Vol. ii. p. 105. VARIETY. 95 but from certain combinations of regular and complex forms ; — " How great a share Variety bas in producing beauty, may be seen in the ornamental part of nature. All the senses delight in it, and equally are averse to sameness. Yet, when the eye is glutted with a suc- cession of Variety, it finds relief in a certain degree of sameness ; and even plain space becomes agreeable, and, properly introduced, and contrasted with Variety, adds to it, more Variety. I mean, here, and everywhere indeed, a composed Variety ; for Variety uncomposed, and without design, is confusion and deformity." * Other examples might be quoted, and it would be found that most authors agree, not only respecting the great prevalence and value of Variety, as a source of Esthetic pleasure, but as to the nature of the Variety which forms so essential an ingredient in all works of taste, and which constitutes the beauty of relation. For although I may not be inclined to admit, with Diderot, that relation constitutes an essential and exclusive prin- ciple of beauty, throughout all nature, yet there can be no doubt, that the relation of parts in single objects, and the relation which these objects bear to one another in the varied elements of a complex scene, constitute the charm of Variety itself. Varietv in a simple object, such as a vase or a jar, results from the slightest deviation of lines, or from the most triflinc increase or fallinij off of a curve ; and the introduction into these simple forms, of those marked dis- tinctions and differences which apply to various classes of * Sec Hogarth's " Analysis of Beauty," chap. ii. [)6 /"ESTHETICS. objects, would destroy their unity of purpose, and their propriety as individual objects. But, in the variety of nature at large, there is as much diversity and contrast of form, as there is characteristic difference in the nature and uses of the various objects there assembled. Variety is but a multiplication of contrasts, sometimes violently antagonizing, sometimes gently diverging, till lines blend into conformity. Variety is not a principle connected with any peculiar forms of objects, but its sphere extends throughout all nature ; and, abstractedly considered, it is inseparable from the order and relation which all objects and effects bear to each other, and is entii'ely dependent, in the scenery of nature, on the principles which constitute character and expression. The charm which has been so often attributed to intrinsic beauty of form, may, doubt- less, in many cases, be ascribed to the expression which is derived from the influence of surrounding objects. For instance, Hogarth attributes a peculiar beauty to the tapering form of the spire ; whereas, the beauty which we similarlv attach, under various circumstances, to the square and other diversely shaped towers of churches and cathedrals, shows that the beauty of the spire is chiefly one of relation, and not an intrinsic quality. In land- scape scenery, where the rounded and indeterminate forms of vegetation prevail, the regular taper, and sharp apex, of the spire, form a decided transition, and become greatly conducive to beauty. It is a remarkable instance of an upright and lofty object standing well by itself, unassoci- ated with other vertical lines destined to break the sudden- ness of the transition. Other examples may, doubtless. DESIGN. 97 be found, in which an outline abrupt and peculiar, may stand out from a different class of forms, without bad effect ; but more frequently, the most violent transitions require to be mitigated by others less decided : and, at the same time that it may be well, for the perfection of Landscape-painting, to study the causes of that endless variety, which results in nature from various and often antagonizing forms, it should be remembered, that the same art has other demands, such as softness, elegance, and harmony, which often require that the extremes of Variety and Contrast be suppressed, and that the gentler transitions be resorted to. DESIGN. The influence of Design, in producing impressions of the beautiful, has been already alluded to in so many parts of this treatise, that there can be scarcely any necessity for adding any more special remarks, unless it be to avoid the appearance of an omission, with regard to one of the most important elements in matters of taste. There is scarcely an author, from Pcre Andre to Hogarth and Reynolds, who, in the developement of his theory, does not, more or less, pay tribute to the far- extended principle of Design. It may be traced in the ideas of relations of Diderot, in those of custom pro- posed by Reynolds, in the fitness for purpose and use held in so much account by Hogarth, in tlic principles of H 98 /ESTHETICS. beauty laid down by Blair, in Stewart's remarks on association, in Home's theory of beauty, and in Alison's essays, as one of the principal agents in the production of the pleasures which are connected with sight. Raphael Mengs, with less consideration and argu- ment than Alison has devoted to this point, shows, con- cisely and forcibly, (judging at least from the French translation of his work on beauty and taste in the art of painting,) the important share which may be attributed to Design, in forming the impressions which we en- tertain, of the perfection of natural objects. According to his doctrine, " Beauty is found in every object, if it be perfect with reference to the idea which we especially attach to it. It is to be found everywhere (e?i toutes Glioses'), because nature has formed nothing that is useless. The impressions which we entertain concerning all objects, are inseparable from the knowledge of their use or destination : beauty exists in all, when their sub- stance and destination may be associated in the same idea. That our impressions concerning the beauty of objects, are determined by the ideas which we entertain of their nature, is evident from the number of opposite ones with which we equally connect ideas of beauty. Beauty proceeds from the harmony of substance with our impressions concerning it ; and our impressions, from our knowledge regarding its destination ;" — and the author ascends hence intellectually, stage by stage, to the Divine Source of all things.* * The above citations, translated from the French edition, are somewhat londensed, and clianged in the order of their arrangement. See " CEuvres Uaphael Mengs, traduites par Doray dc Longrais." 1782. P. 68, &c. DESIGN. 99 This is the kind of argument, which, with regard to its general import, may be found repeated over in most languages, and in most periods, since a decided interest has been awakened for matters of taste ; though, at the same time, the spirit of opposition and censure, which has so generally prevailed amongst writers, has given to the various opinions entertained, the appearance of the most perfect dissent from these conclusions. The im- portant points of coincidence, which are so easily de- tected, in the general convergence of opinions at large, seem to have been overlooked, in the attempts which have been made to overthrow doctrines and systems by pointing out particular instances of disagreement. Design, like most other principles which have been brought forward as causes of the beautiful, will not stand the charges which may be made against it, if it claim to be the germ and essence of that which, in our sight, is admirable and excellent. Like fitness, regularity, and order, it has an important share in determining those shapes and features which are pleasing to the eye, and satisfactory to the understanding ; but, far from being universal, self-sufficient in every respect, and an answer to every inquiry, it can, at most, pretend to afford some clue to our most habitual emotions, and to inform us what forms of objects are, generally speaking, best calcu- lated to afford us, not so much the delight of enthusiasm, as the satisfaction which attaches itself to propriety. Neither the enchantments which belong to wild and desolate nature, nor those which pertain to female beauty when enhanced by unconscious negligence, are compre- hended in that expression of the beautiful, which is 100 -ESTHETICS. fingered out to us by the word Design. All is mystery and uncertainty, when the ardour of enthusiasm, excited by any scenes or objects whatever, is unbounded : De- sign does not suggest itself, till the mind has become suffi- ciently calm to admit, to a certain extent, of the exercise of reason and judgment, or (as in the inspection of specimens of architecture, and other productions of art,) to allow acquired knowledge, and the habit of judging, to have some share in the impression which is connected with the thing observed. These are so far from predo- minating on all occasions of unbounded pleasure, that our delight, in such moments, seems to partake of the nature of surprise and admiration at an eflFect obtained, apparently, in total defiance of those means of gratifying, which bear the especial print of intention and Design. REGULMIITY A\D SYMMETRY. Regularity is expressed by the repetition of the same form at equal intervals. Symmetry results from the division of a regular figure into equal portions, and ap- plies, particularly, to the appearance of the whole, con- sidered with reference to this central division. Regularity and Symmetry are abundant sources of pleasure, because these qualities express intention, or design, more immediately, and more distinctly, than any others. Corresponding parts at corresponding in- tervals, strike every one as being the result of intention ; and the circumstance that the sliijhtest want of exactness REGULARITY AND SYMMETRY. 101 is at once perceived, proves how strong!)' this idea is impressed on the mind. We do not always know why one object or ornament should have its counterpart. We do not, perhaps, at first, discover the necessity of two eyes, or of two ears, instead of one ; but perceiving that a Superior Wisdom has deemed fit to provide us with a pair of each of these organs, their similarity of use teaches us, that they must have conformity of structure ; and, as we are gratified in perceiving the perfect simi- larity of these organs, so are we jjleased when we discover, in objects of art, that perfect identity of corresponding parts, or Symmetry of the whole, which brings at once home to our minds, the impression of design well cai'- ried out. Hogarth and Alison have both given testimony to the obvious nature of the beauty which results from Re- gularity and Symmetry, by maintaining, that both child- hood, and the infancy of art, take particular delight in the representation of regular and symmetrical forms,* a delight which, Alison affirms, changes its object, when- ever maturer years, and more consummate skill, render the imitation of irregular forms of as easy achievement as that of svmmetrical ones. In both cases, it is the in- tention and design, which are manifested by the resem- blance of the work of art to the object of nature, which become the source of the delight. It should, however, be observed, that Regularity and Symmetry, by assimilating the different parts of the same object, as well as bv determining the resemblance * See Hogarth's " Analysis of Ceauty," chap. iii. Alison's " Essays on Taste." SLxth edition. Vol. ii. pp. 58, (is. 102 iESTHETICS. of separate objects, tend to confine the ideas which are connected with these principles, as compared with those impressions of the beautiful which result from the variety of nature at large. INTRICACY. I concur with Mr. Price, in considering Intricacy to be a source of pleasure distinct from others, and in ascribing to it a position of its own amongst the elements necessary to ajsthetic enjoyment. Still, it appears to me to be a mixed source of pleasure, constituted chiefly by mystery, variety, and that principle, without a defi- nition, in the scenery of nature, which excites curiosity, of which modesty is the representative in the relations of society ; a principle to which Mr, Price distinctly alludes, in the subjoined definition, — " According to the idea I have formed of it. Intricacy in landscape might be defined, that disposition of objects, which, by a partial concealment, excites and nourishes curiosity."* This principle, so essentially conducive to pleasure in landscape composition, and which the term propriety only partially implies, is not limited to the extreme irre- gularity and confusion which may prevail in a forest, or in a wild rocky scene, but should enter, more or less, into the arrangement of CAery landscape composition. * Price's " Essays on the Picturesque," vol. i. p. 17. INTRICACY. 103 When a picture, in which the sublime and the beautiful are but half revealed in an humble and unobtrusive scene, affords us more delight than would a full dis- closure of the grandest objects, we may be sure that the artist who painted the former picture, has alone under- stood the value of the principle alluded to. It is this kind of unassuming merit, which makes the vignette style so inviting, and renders the glance which is stolen, at an interesting object, through an opening in trees, preferable to an ostentatious display of the most sublime scenery. This principle, although it may blend per- fectly with that of variety, which Price justly considers to be another constituent of Intricacy, is, nevertheless, distinct from it. As Intricacy, with regard to objects of sight, is most remote from uniformity and order, it must necessarily afford, in combination with regular forms, one of the most adequate means for the production of variety. The diversity produced by the combination of objects more or less regular and irregular, may be al- ready exhausted, when that aflForded by Intricacy, the extreme of irregularity, and the next-door neighbour to confusion, will be still at our command. How could variety be maintained, in scenes wanting the symmetry of buildings, unless nature, in her most intricate com- binations, were to supply a degree of irregularity, greatly exceeding that which characterizes her ordinary appear- ances ? Intricacy is not a necessary ingredient of variety, more than perfect symmetry is ; but it extends the range of picturesque art, and by enabling the artist to go further in one given direction, than he could do without it, affords scope for diversifying his subjects. 104 iliSTHETICS. A third constituent of Intricacy, to which Mr. Price docs not allude, or which he ma}- have confounded with that modest retiring principle alluded to above, is mystery. No one will doubt of the mystery of a groye of trees, of dark cayernous places, and of the gloom which is now and then cast oyer wild nature. It is, indeed, an emotion of so elevated a kind, that it becomes one of the principal sources of the sublime. It is, in external nature, what uncertainty and doubt are in a moral sense ; and, as nothing adds more to the terrors of pain and danger, than the uncertainty of relief, so, few things contribute more to the greatness of natural scenery, than the mystery in which it is sometimes enveloped. Mystery, variety, and unobtrusiveness, or something beyond, are, therefore, principles which combine to render that Intricacy in which uncultivated nature abounds, a desirable and important element in landscape- painting. Hogarth ascribes to Intricacy, a principle very dif- ferent from the preceding. He connects a peculiar kind of pleasure with the discovery that order and design prevail, where, previously, confusion and chaos appeared to rule. These views, which we find supported, appa- rently by mere chance, in a passage of Alison,* seem to relate to the pleasure of surprise, which doubtless ensues, whenever order and distinctness succeed to the concealment of Intricacy, but which is wanting when the gloom of uncertainty remains. * " Essays on Taste," vol. ii. p. 67. INDISTINCTNESS. 105 INDISTINCTNESS. We frequently discover, in the works of artists, the intention of imitating the effects which are pecuHar to the deep shadows of nature, because these deep shadows seem to cast a kind of mysterious and poetic gloom over the scenes or objects which ai'e subjected to them. The representation, however, of these shadows, by dark and opaque colour, is not an interpretation of this peculiar expression of the transparent shades of nature. What gives them this character so pleasing to the imagination, is, the Indistinctness and uncertainty which pervade the parts thus thrown into gloom. The effects of dusk and dawn, make us fully sensible of this ; whereas, any opaque shadows, even in nature, such as appear in windows, or in dark holes surrounded by intense light, are mere blanks which awaken no sym- pathy or interest : and it should further be considered, in reference to the use of very deep shadows in painting, that black paint does not represent gloom. Lamp or ivory-black, in a picture, exposed, as a work of art usually is, to a full light, may represent darkness, with reference to the lights of the picture, but would, per- haps, fail to do so, with respect to the darkest shadows accidentally projected into the room. In reference to the latter, the shadows of the picture become black paint, not gloom. Let us remember, therefore, that to obtain the sentiment and idealitv of the shadows of 106 AESTHETICS. nature, we must aim at an expression different to that of mere blackness ; and the more that kind of uncer- tainty is produced, which, without jettiness, has the true character of gloom, and causes amazement respect- ing the method by which objects expressed with cha- racter, have been rendered, at the same time, indistinct, the more likely is it that the aim of the artist will be successfully attained, and that his work will unite with the vagueness of uncertainty, that transparent airiness which suggests, so agreeably, impressions of space and depth. REMARKS ON TASTE AST) THE IDEAL. ON TASTE. A dissertation on Taste cannot, with any hope of arrivincr at a satisfacton^ conclusion, be extended to the objects which are subjected to its decisions. It must either bear, as AUson's Essays have done, on the manner of exercising and improving this umpire of the noble and refined pleasures ; or, it must have for its object, to define the term, — for instance, to specify- whether it implies simple appreciation of beauty, the faculty of dis- tinguishing the relative beauty of objects, or whether it includes the power of applying this faculty, more or less, to some end or useful purpose of art ; the solution of which' points is but of minor importance. With regard to the principles on which Taste is founded, it would, in all cases, be necessary to submit the question of their expediency to the taste of others. Whosoever does not subscribe to these conditions, puts forward his o^vn peculiar views on a point concerning which every one claims, as his very first right, indepen- dence of opinion ; and I believe that no one who knows the fickle nature of the ground upon which such argu- ments arc raised, and the tenacity with which everj- one desires to maintain his own position, would be \er\ 108 ESTHETICS. ambitious of imposing his rules of Taste on others. As it is, arguments are not wanting, to show the uselessness of any attempt to establish a criterion in matters of Taste. Even the writings of Hume and Stewart, notwithstanding many striking remarks, neither afford nor pretend to give, any definite reply to this inquiry.* Refinement, precision, and quickness, in judging of objects of Taste, are best acquired from such writings as bear immediately on these objects, whether it be in rela- tion to their form, their arrangement, or their applica- tions in art. Little advantage can, however, be expected to be derived, even from direct remarks on select objects of art, unless the eye itself be exercised : and the kind of pursuit which is calculated to be most practically useful, is that which unites with the general data con- cerning the beautiful and perfect, which are the result of experience, the examination of select specimens of art. ON THE IDEAL. Sir Charles Bell advances a theory possessing con- siderable originality, for the attainment of the Ideal in the various expressions of the human features. t He institutes a comparison between the characters which * Sec Hume's " Essay on the Standard of Taste. " Also Stewart's " Philo- sophical Essaj's." Part 2. On Taste. t See Bell's " Anatomy and Philosophy of Expression, as connected with the Fine Arts." THE IDEAL. 109 distinguish the beauty and dignity of man from the more gross expressions of animals, and gives, in particular, to those which chiefly determine the superiority of the human expression over that of animals, their fullest developement. He even goes further, — he marks those forms of the human head and face, which most effectu- ally convey impressions of dignity, mildness, and the other esteemed characters ; and, by somewhat exaggera- ting, or enforcing, these principles of expression, and by suppressing those which have a contrary tendency, he forms a model, powerfully stamped with the nobler attri- butes of the mind. This is a very different plan to the one, on the compiling principle, employed by the ancients, and recommended by Winckelmann ; but there is no reason why Bell's method should not come to its support, as it may, in some cases, be desirable to exaggerate the signs which mark the noble attributes of man, in order to give additional force and energy to the expression of these qualities. This applies particularly to sculpture, where the uniformity of the material produces tameness, unless every expression of the features be made very prominent ; and, in bass-reliefs, and other works of sculpture, which decorate lofty buildings, and are, there- fore, seen from a distance, this necessity of decided fea- tures becomes still more obvious. But, though the method of Sir Charles Bell may afford elementary and eeneral rules for eivinjj to the human features certain casts of expression, it leaves a great deal to the imagina- tion and taste, in the achievement of Ideal perfection. Dr. Hutcheson's treatise on our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, contains some very excellent remarks on beauty 110 /"ESTHETICS. as applied to the human features. He goes beyond the usually admitted facts of the necessity of regularity of form and proportion, and establishes a higher principle of beauty in those charactei's and expressions which are discovered in the airs of the countenance^, in the same manner as he founds ugliness, not merely on deformity and disproportion, but on such marks as indicate dull- ness, vacancy, haughtiness, and the like characteristics. The influence which the immediate connexion be- tween the forms of the features, and internal sentiment, has on our impressions of beauty, is, I think, forcibly exemplified by the circumstance, that all features which, from their defective conformation, afford but a confused image of that which they are expected to express, or whose blemishes and imperfections are opposed to its open manifestation on the countenance, strike somewhat painfully upon every fresh observer. To him, more particularly, such features fulfil but imperfectly their intended office : but, with increased familiarity and ac- quaintance, such marks as contribute to the agreeable expression of any particular countenance, come foremost, and the influence of those which have a contrary ten- dency diminishes ; slight deformities are, by degrees, regarded as strangers to the part which the muscles of expression have to perform ; their presence is, at last, almost overlooked ; and, unless to a mind bent on dis- covering that kind of beauty which is dependent on regularity, they nearly cease to be causes of its privation. Hutcheson admits that we derive pleasure from the signs which indicate the amiable qualities, even when expressed in countenances wanting in regularity and THE IDEAL. 1 1 1 beauty. But these circumstances, having so much influ- ence on the enjoyments of social life, cease to apply in the selection of that kind of beauty which constitutes the Ideal. Art has not yet attained that degree of perfection, which, in the research after the more tender and delicate expressions of the countenance, might enable it to dis- pense with all the advantages which result from perfect regularity of form, and the other admitted principles of beauty. This could alone be expected to be successfully accomplished, in tlie present stage of art, in family sub- jects. The research of the beautiful as applied to sub- jects of a classical and elevated character, avails itself but with restrictions, of the social and familiar afi*ection3 of society, as it rejects altogether, the arbitrary decisions of fashion, and the conventional decrees of the drawing- room. Familiarity and social intercourse, by causing an endearment for those qualities of others which adapt themselves to the peculiar dispositions of individual persons, give rise to certain confined circles in which these qualities are especially valued. They arc not equally appreciated by men in general ; and their indi- cation in the airs of the countenance could not, thei'e- fore, suit the purposes of an art, the object of which ought to be invariably to generalize, that is to say, to seek out pleasing expressions in forms in which they may be universally understood. Doubtless the kind of feeling which guides society, at the present time, in its appreciation of the perfect in art, is considerably opposed to that which, at the Stadium, or the combat of the Cistus, assigned the highest personal merit to agility and to muscular 112 .ESTHETICS. strength. Even the prize which was carried off by beaut)' itself, must, if we consider the prevailing taste, at these national solemnities, for ostentation and show, have been bestowed on forms, which, although full of sj'mmetry, possessed very imperfectly, that aptitude for soft and tender expressions, which, in the present state of society, most effectually challenges sympathy and in- terest. Even the beauty of the Grecian marbles, which was originallv derived from these and other similar sources, would, doubtless, appear tame and formal, if (as in the works of modern art) it were presented to us, unembellished by the association of the most inter- esting records of history, and of the prodigious and admirable strides which marked the early attempts of sculpture and painting in Europe. The question, therefore, presents itself: To what extent, and by what means, should modern and Christ- ian art, substitute the marks of emotion and sentiment, to that coarser and more formal expression of beauty, which, as in the productions of the ancients, is chiefly the result of a strict adherence to proportion and sym- metry ? In that kind of Ideal which adapts itself to the present age, the perfect symmetry of muscular form no longer claims the degree of attention which it did for- merly ; and even the marks of intelligence and vivacit)', however essential, might, perhaps, sooner be dispensed with, than the so affecting expression of tenderness and benevolence, the deficiency of which, in the female fea- tures, would at first seem to be almost equivalent to a want of beauty. The expression which is best substi- tuted for the marks of high mental attainments, is that Tin; IDEAL. 113 of modesty ; lor this virtue, presented to us in those circumstances of life in which it is rendered most engaging, contains an intelligence, discernment, and fortitude, peculiar to itself. Through it, the smile acquires grace by its sincerity, and seems to beam with a world of innocent delight ; whilst the slightest marks of expression acquire a worth and interest which they do not possess under any other circumstances. Thus are those traces of superior mental endowments, which, in masculine features, especially in mature age, are so es- sential to the expression of the human countenance, in a great measure supplanted, in youth, especially in the female sex, by a quality, the indications of which, are most fitted to add grace and dignity to the gentler emanations of art. Reverting, once more, to the question of the ne- cessity of regular forms. It is evident that there are features, as in the models which are selected from the multitude, which are not only regular, but considered to be perfectly beautiful, without manifesting any clear or decided expression of those delicate sentiments and emo- tions, of which Hutcheson was the first to point out the merits. Are such features as these amenable to the uses of art, in the production of the Ideal ? No doubt, it may here gather much with regard to those principles of form and colour which are necessary to the production of beautiful features. In availing itself of these prin- ciples of beauty, art copies but the intention of nature to produce perfection ; and though its realization may have been partially thwarted, the envelope may retain the print of all those gi'aces, of which a more careful education might [ 114. .ESTHETICS. have brought forth the riper fruits. But, however much may be derived from these sources, as to ideality of form and colour, they can be expected to yield, as far as ex- pression is concerned, neither chasteness nor depth. Again, can inferiority of station supply us with those models of beauty, which are marked by delicacy and refinement of expression ? or should they be sought for in those ranks only, where the tender plant has been reared up with all the care and luxury which would render it, in its maturity, of a perfect though delicate organization ? I think it would be found that, should lowness, or, rather, humbleness, of station, influence the expression of that which is refined, delicate, or noble, we should rightly trace such results less to a condition fraught with hardships and discomforts, than to those meaner associations, either of intercourse or of occupa- tion, which, in such stations of life, are more difiicult to avoid ; since we find that the expression which is en- hanced and perfected by cultivation, and by the contem- plation of elevated aims and purposes, is not in the least diminished and tarnished by exposure to climate, to weather, and even to those inconveniences and discom- forts which may occasionallv bring those subjected to them into the humble condition of persons brought up in rustic life. The complexion may, perhaps, be impaired in its delicacy ; but expression would, probably, gain in variety and depth, by this subjection to vicissitudes of all kinds. Since expression may impart to the Ideal of beauty, a charm which it could never obtain from an union of parts perfect from their regularity only, how do we I'lIK IDEAL. 115 account for that perfection which is required in the regu- larity and devclopcment of those parts which are not essential to expression, and which seem to be entirely disconnected with it? For instance, the ear and the nose have, like the eye and the mouth, uses very evi- dent in reference to the wants of the possessor, but they have not, like the eye and the mouth, in addition to these uses, any evident purpose in as far as expression is concerned. Why, therefore, should the perfection of these parts be so necessary, as it undoubtedly is, in order that expression itself be complete and satisfactory ? This circumstance appears to be one of those which strongly prove, that it is the imagination which is chiefly engaged by a pleasing expression, or by the air of beauty, diffused in the countenance. When that lively and pleasing expression, and that air of beauty, are per- ceived, it is, almost invariably, with the accompaniment of those parts, in a condition more or less perfect, which are not necessary to expression. Whenever these ex- pressions, and these airs of countenance, reoccur in other features, the imagination is alive to their influence ; but it would not be so, if any deformity, though unconcerned in tlie expression, were to obtrude itself: and such is our habit of seeing the perfection or completeness of those parts which arc inactive in the production of ex- pression, associated with the excellence of those on which it depends, that any imperfection or blemish in the struc- ture of the former, would inmiediat(;ly operate unfiivour- ably on the imagination, and destroy our relish and admiration for the countenance to which they belong. 1 1 a .ESTHETICS. That these parts are not necessary to expression, is shown by the circumstance that, when they are hidden by the hair, the dress, or any other object, the expression remains the same. Should they be deficient, or partly wanting, the omission would at once be felt, and a dis- agreeable eiFect wovdd result ; but mere concealment leaves the imagination active, which, without effort, completes the whole. This is not the case with respect to the parts which have the greatest share in expression ; for if the eyes, or the mouth, were even accidentally concealed, it would be found very difficult to complete the expression or the graceful air of the countenance. The eyebrows, though of no other apparent use than as ornaments, contribute so far to expression, that their deficiency would be greatly destructive of beauty. Another kind of inquiry, of which the solution cannot be indifferent to the career and prospects of art, is, whether those decisions of taste which are influenced by impassionate admiration, are admissible as a means of obtaining the Ideal in beauty of form, — whether, in fact, the objects of its choice be of the domain of art in ge- neral, and not confined to individuals. Guido, Carlo Dolci, Murillo, Greuse, and Reynolds, have all suc- ceeded in producing the loveliest expression of virginal innocence ; an expression which, in none of these cases, we can conceive to be resulting only from a thorough knowledge of the rules of proportion, or from a study of nature made according to any of the admitted principles of art. Could we suppose these men, each eminent in his sphere, to meet before each other's works, they would THE IDEAL. 117 not, I fancy, whatever might be the influence of previous cultivation and experience, be rendered sensible to the perfection of these productions, by studies which, in each of their respective countries, would be found ma- terially to differ : but, oia witnessing their enthusiasm suddenly kindled, as though one great master had lighted up the energy of another, by the flame of his own genius, we should not, I think, hesitate to conclude, that the sentiment of the beautiful which partakes of the en- thusiasm of passion, is general and comprehensive, and that its language is alike understood, in all periods, and in all countries. Vast and comprehensive, indeed, is this unity of sympathy and love ; yet equally unbounded is that variety of form, which, although founded on one prevailing emotion, gives an unlimited extent to the conceptions of art. If those expressions of the features possess no or- dinary sweetness, which, at the same time that they promise all the endearments of friendship, draw a veil over its anxieties, who would not be sensible to those inspired productions of art, the enchantments of which call at once to mind these blissful dreams ? And, since the enthusiasm of emotion greatly exceeds the reality of any hoped-for pleasure, it may become the means of imparting to form, in vigorous characters, an ideal and angelic excellence which could never be obtained by the most careful academic studies. More- over, a deep-felt impression of the beautiful, as derived from her choicest models in nature and art, alone converts into living images, those graceful and fugitive 118 ^ESTHETICS. emanations of the fancy, which are borrowed from these sources. The impression thus grafted on the mind, remains unshaken by the disturbing influences of a lon^ ''in . SAN GIROLAMO. Bv COREOOIO. IN THE VCCAPEMI.V OF PARMA. GKNKRAL Hrr.KS. 125 symmetry in the forms of the principal groups and objects, is, in general, considered a tiling to be carefully avoided, the author and artist alluded to, appeal's to have adopted, to a certain extent, regular forms for Composition, in preference to others. But it appears to me, that the chief danger incurred by the author, is that of being mistaken as to his object in introducing regular shapes, such as the diagonal, lozenge, and cir- cular, forms, to which he alludes in his work ; for it is evident, by the explanations which follow, that he attaches very little importance to these forms in themselves, and that he employed them, chiefly, as a practical means of directino^ the attention of the student towards the general outline of the masses in Composition, the neglect of which, even in the pursuit of those more absorbing principles of excellence, which lie hidden in the emo- tions and actions of the figures, renders the work less perfect. The student who seeks elegance in the exterior out- line, either of inanimate objects, or of living beings, is apt to forget that the apparent forms of the masses depend less on these exterior outlines, than on the distribution of such parts as are illuminated, or which receive the full light : and anv rules, which may serve to mark out especially the form and distribution of the principal masses of light, to show their influence in the picture, and to distinguish them from those boundary lines which arc mere definitions of substance, and which often vanish into shade, mav be verv desirable. The elementary figures of geometry, affbrd some tangible means of in- structing the student respecting tlio tonus nnd arrange- 126 COMPOSITION. ment of the leading masses ; and their great simplicity, and abstract nature, render them less objectionable than forms more complicated, or than such as arc connected with useful purposes, and would, therefore, be likely to remind the observer of some object foreign to the subject. Any form, whether it be in the details of a picture, or in the masses, which may be easily construed into some strange imaginary object, and which, therefore, diverts the attention from the subject, is, doubtless, to be depre- cated ; and the artist and student equally strive to avoid these accidental coincidences of real and imaginary shapes. * Elegance and variety, combined with a simple and clear exposition, constitute their chief aim, in the economy of the subject, and the distribution of the parts. * Whenever any such imaginary form is brought before the mind of the beholder, however sublime may be the intended subject, he inevitably takes the step which leads to the ridiculous. When I was shewn, at the Accadcmia at Venice, the much-admired picture by Tintoretto, called " II Miracolo di San JMarco," the first idea produced, was, that a very wonderful bird had appeared in the skj% at which the multitude beneath were anxiously gazing, in the hope and expectation of its very shortly falling to the ground. Thc«e representations of aerial flights, which so often form the subjects of the chef tCmwres of the great Italian JNIasters, who were obliged to satisfj' the super- stitious taste of their time and country, never gave me real pleasure. Even the celebrated Assumption of the A'irgin, by Titian, unfortunately brought to my mind the effect of a very interesting lady balancing herself on the tight-rope, with her arms extended; the httic angels looking like inferior nymphs dancing round her. At last, I found that the only way to derive rational pleasure from such pictures, and to appreciate the powers of the artists, was, to resist the first tendency to the ridiculous, by forcing the attention away from that which was actually intended to form the chief at- traction. Then, indeed, one might admire the skilful grouping of the multi- tude, their various expressions of fear, astonishment, awe, reverence, or devo- tion, the exquisite beauty and richness of the colours, so wonderfully blended and skilfully harmonized as they are in the Flight of St. i\Iark, though still more succe^fully so, in the Assumption of the Virgin, by the inimitable Tit- ian. — Mnt. H. Tirhins- GENERA I. nilI.ES. 127 Any geometrical or otherwise symmetrical forms, either in the distribution of the lights, or of the groups themselves, are defects, if sufficiently obvious to become noticed ; but if the subject be so effectively borne out, as to engross the entire attention, and if its points of inte- rest fill the mind of the observer, he will be less likely, than when its execution is ineffective, to take offence at any approach to geometrical figures, in the general forms of the composition. A certain degree of regularity, resulting from the concentration and grouping together of the parts, is, in all cases, greatly preferable to that kind of irregularity, which would result from the random scattering of objects over a large surface. The union of dispersed groups by some common link, is one of the most necessary principles of Composition. In the centre of a small picture of the Assumption, by Franccschini, in the Palazzo Pallavicini, at Genoa, is a flying group of figures, of a lozenge shape, with one of its angles downwards. This symmetrical form of Compo- sition is scarcely interrupted by the shadows in which some of the figures are placed, or by two little angels, standing, who connect the central group with the ground. Yet these slight artifices are so well managed, that the symmetry of the composition does not strike at first sight. It appears, on the contrary, exceedingly beauti- ful, from the graceful, but at the same time, successful efforts of the angels to bear up the Virgin. The con- nexion between the different groups of figures, has like- wise been studiously maintained in the picture of the Assumption, by Titian, by small Putini, excjuisitely painted, flying in the niidwav air. 128 ( OMI'OSITION. IMPROPRIETY OF EXAGGERATED ACTION. Leonardo da Vinci, although he recommends, in his treatise, that the figures which are engaged in stirring events should have all the impetuosity and fire in their motions and attitudes, which may he called for by anima- ted action, nevertheless proportions the ardour displayed in their attitudes, to the subject which calls for it, as he himself shows, by a comparison between a man who hurls a javelin, and another represented in the less violent action of throwing a stone.* As far as regards practice in the arts of drawing and sculpture, the cir- cumstances which are connected with action, differ con- siderably from those which influence expression. It will be allowed, that, with regard to expression in the human features, there is no difficulty in equalling, or even in exaffgeratingr, those marks of emotion and character which depend on the distension or contraction of the muscles : but this is not exactly the case with respect to the actions of the limbs ; for at the same time that all excess, in the apparent movements and actions of the limbs, is to be reproved, it must be remembered, that * "A figure whose motions are not perfectly accommodate to the sentiment or passion it is supposed to have, shows its members to be in a stale of re- bellion, and to want that duty and allegiance which they owe to the mind. * * * The action of a figure must be so proper and peculiar to the subject, that it cannot possilily serve to signify any other thing, nor be used on any other occasion, than it is intended for." — Da Vinci on Painfiiii^. Senex's translation, p. 110. KXAGGKI! ATED ACTION. 129 the novico in tlic fine arfs ac^complishes what appears to him a great achievement, when he succeeds in disen- gaging the limbs of his figures from the stiffness and constraint which appear to cling to every first attempt. This question, therefore, whether it regard works exe- cuted in marble or with the pencil, must be, in a great measure, relative to the powers of execution of the artist, as it is to the general progress of art itself. He who is still diffident in his art, has to embolden himself, before he can attain the ease and gracefulness of nature ; whereas the one who exercises complete mastery over his materials, and carries out without effort every precon- ceived design, may sometimes find it desirable to check his own ardour, and to regulate and govern the violence expressed in his subject. Canova mi'j^ht, it appears to me, have somewhat subdued the impetuosity expressed in the attitude of Theseus killing one of the Centaurs, a group which now decorates the A'olksgarten at Vienna. Such a display of strength and exertion, against an enemy already overcome, does not agree with one's ideas of so mighty a hero. According to tlic prevalent im- pressions of a Theseus, less effort would have been re- quired, even in the first struggle with his opponent. How much more successfully has Thorwaldscn given the expression of unsubdued courage, in the reposing attitude of the Lion of Lucerne, thouiih wounded and dvintj ! A few decided marks show what this noble creature must have been in liis strengtli ; and tlic imagination goes, perhaps, still further, assisted by the peculiar enchant- ments of thi' spot.* How nnifb would the Saint John, * The I, ion here alliuled to, i« tlie momimcnt erected by Thorwaldsen, K 130 COMI'OSIXION. by Guido, in the Dulwicli Galler)', have lost of its cha- racter of deep and earnest thought, if the limbs had not been kept in a position of ease, and expression left en- tirely to the features ! If great action of the limbs be desirable in order to give variety and interest to the muscular forms, it must be done by introducing a subject which calls for great bodily exertion, as in the Descent from the Cross, by Rubens ; or, rather, in the painting of the same subject by Danieli di Volterra, in the Chiesa della Trinita del Monte, at Rome. An appearance of effort which is not called for, has been stigmatized, in all times, by men of taste, and is generally the mark of feebleness of invention. An example of propriety, in this respect, is afforded by the cartoon of the First Trial by Jury, by Mr. Cope. He has not given more action to the figures than the nature near Lucerne, in commemoration of the brave and noble Swiss Guards who were slain in defending Louis XVL and Marie Antoinette. The history of their admirable faithfulness is well known ; and this monument recalls it vividlj' to the mind, filling one with sublime reflections; while the spot itself adds to these thoughts, impressions of the beautiful. I have not seen on the plain of Waterloo, nor inclosed in any cathedral, so touching and magnificent a monument, nor one which so well satisfies the spectator as to its durability. One feels that the noble Swiss martyrs are immortalized, as well as the artist who conceived this gr."ind and appropriate design. Some magnificent cliffs have been selected, and, by cutting through them, their diagonal stratifi- cations and varied tints are brought to bear on the effect of the wounded lion, which calmly reposes below, in an irregular cavity. The surrounding trees extend from the top to the bottom of (he rocks on either side, inclosing the monument, which is roofed over by the pure sky, and giving it an air of romantic beauty and deep seclusion, in perfect accordance with its simple character. Honour and glory to the brave, the noble, the faithful guards, who, though overcome by numbers, were unsubdued in spirit, and fought to the last drop of their blood in defence of their royal master and mistress ! — Mrs. H. T. KQUILIBRIUM. 131 of the subject would justify ; vet the interest which re- suhs from it, as well as from expression, is not wanting in any part of this fine composition, and has been most successfully attained in the features and attitude of the youthful accuser. EQUILIBRIUM. A very nice point, in connexion with the action of figures, is that of balance. Generally speaking, what- ever be the attitude of the figure, such a distribution of the limbs, and other parts, as produces a perfect equi- poise of the whole, is considered one of the first and necessary conditions of the art of grouping, — one, of which Leonardo strongly advocates the importance. But, with regard to the motion of progression, this perfect balance of the parts of a figure, appears to be subjected to restrictions, as the position of a man rapidly ad- vancing, is that of a suspended fall. In the simple attitude of walking, however, even with a hasty step, it mav be doubtful whether the greatest mass of the bodv inclines, at any moment, beyond the perpendicular, al- though it might require some effort to stop suddenly short. This difficulty of stopping abruptly, is due to the impulse which is acquired, rather than to a position of the body in which the centre of gravity is beyond the point of support ; unless it be, perhaps, at the moment that one foot is held suspended in the air before the next step is taken — a position which is never repre- sented, excepting in the running figure, either in sculp- ture or in painting. 'J'he position of the Diana a la lo^i COMPOSITION. Biche, though indicating swift progress, is perfectly erect ; and that of the Fighting Gladiator, who, apparently, is advancing toward the foe, is characterized by firmness. There are, however, in the gardens of the Tuilcrics, two running figures of Atalanta and Hippomenes (l)y C'oustou, an artist of the eighteenth century), tastefully distributed in one of the parterres. In these graceful statues, the appearance of falling, in the attitude of the body, is, as far as I can remember, only prevented by the indication of rapid and successive movements of the inferior limbs. Independently of the mechanical difficulty of supporting the figure, considerable artistic skill must have been required ; since, without the most perfect and charac- teristic signs of speed, in every attitude and movement, the result would have been a falling, and not a racing, figure. ON THE SUPERNATURAL IN COMPOSITION. I believe that the Supernatural belongs very little to the province of historical painting. Its analogy with poetry has, I apprehend, led, in many instances, to sup- pose that the capacity of art for compositions of this kind, is much greater than it really is. But it is espe- cially with respect to those points which are most ideal and imaginative, that art chiefly differs from poetry. The latter, in fact, only suggests the subject, or traces it indistinctly with bright flashes here and there : whereas the sister art operates with positive materials ; and it is to the distinct and forcible expression of ideas, resulting from this positive labour, that it chiefly owes its charm. THE SUl'F.UNATUKAL. 133 It would be mistaking its object, and throwing away its most valuable attribute, to dispossess it of this true, precise, and positive character, in comparison with the other productions of the imagination. The less perfect the work, as a composition or picture, the less it will be required to afford the exact image of those matter-of-fact forms which are familiar to us. A mere sketch may embody imaginary scenes and effects, without causing any surprise, or insinuating misgivings as to their pro- priety ; whereas, the more perfect the work, the less suited it is for that exercise of the imagination, which selects its objects beyond the limits of nature. Hence Vie discern the true tendencv of art. But although ex- traordinary or fairy scenes, do not strictly belong to its domain, might it not still be admitted that they may be sometimes employed to embellish it? Supposing this to be the case (and experience seems to show that it may be so), the course to be pursued is, in my mind, evident. Art will not, indeed, suffer such freaks of the imagina- tion to intrude upon those parts of anv work whi(;h are most essential and conspicuous, or which involve the greatest interest. They must be kept in the background, nearly unperccived, and ouK sufficiently apparent to denote the influence which any such supernatural signs exercise on the subject ; that thcv mav explain the tale, diversify its character, and thus add to its expression, but without detracting from that important attribute of the art of painting, which gives the appearance of sub- stance. Mr. Townsend, in his painting of Minnula, in the "Tempest," exhibited in the vear 1S18 at the Roval Academy, has assigned to tiie supernatural its true 134 COMPOSITION bounds, by keeping in the distance, and little con- spicuous, the imaginary personages of Ariel and his attendants, which are necessary for the subject, but which, had thev been obtruded upon the observer, would have destroyed its character of propriety. The my thologv of the Greeks partakes of the cha- racter of the fable, and is, consequently, much better adapted for the purposes of imitative art, than those fleeting and indefinable spirits and images which are described in the poetry of the more northern nations. Apollo, pursuing his luminous course above the clouds, surrounded bv the Graces, and preceded by the personi- fication of Aurora, has not proved too mysterious and supernatural a subject for the pencil of Guido Reni. However bold the fiction, its images have all substance, and belong, therefoi-e, to the domain of art, as is ren- dered sufficiently evident by this matchless production of its kind, painted in fresco, on one of the ceilings in the Palazzo Rospigliosi, at Rome. Indeed, most of the fictions of the Greek and Latin poets, are such as the imagination mav compass without any eff"ort, and art as easily embody. Daedalus fastens the feathery wings to the shoulders of his son Icarus ; and the marks of pa- ternal solicitude to which this act, preceding their ad- venturous flight, gives rise, furnish the artist with a subject most fitted for inspiring feelings of tenderness and emotion. This is the moment chosen by Cara- vaggio, in a painting of this subject in the possession of Mr. Thomas Twining, of Twickenham. The ^Milanese painter has deemed it preferable to the rendering of the flight itself. Bv thus keeping out of sight the marvellous IN LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 135 of the tale, he has allowed its influence to prevail in full force on the imagination of the observer. In vain mijiht we seek for anvthinfj so definite in the Safja and mvtho- logy of the Scandinavians ; nor were it easy to embody in material pigment, the ghost, of which Ossian says, — " His robes are of the clouds of the hill," " His eyes are two decaying flames," and " The stars dim-twinkled through his form." COMPOSITION IN THE LANDSCAPE. In the landscape, the limits of plausible departure from the truth of nature, cannot be exactly traced by principle. They must depend on the style and cha- racter of the landscape ; on its being a fancy piece, a composition, or the transcript of a scene in nature. They must also depend on the taste of the artist, and his power of carrying out ably, the suggestions of his fancy. The immense difference which exists, in this respect, between the copy of a scene in nature, and a work of the imagination, is obvious ; and it is likewise evident, that there are various stages between the faithful transcript and the fancy piece, in which a greater or less degree of caprice and abandon is com- ])atible with the subject : but with respect to the amount of the digression from nature, allowable in these various styles, it would be difficult to find so much as two opinions perfectly agreed. I shall only consider, here, what impressions are likely to result from certain com- binations of the fanciful with truth, and let the opinion of 136 COMPOSITION others decide the cases in which their union is com- mendable. I will begin by alluding to slight deviations from truth nf representation. There are, I believe, very few artists, who, in what they might call a faithful represent- ation of nature, would not consider themselves justified in making such alterations in the foreground, as they might deem necessary to show off to advantage the prin- cipal objects in the scene, and add to its effect. The plausible reasons for so doing are, that time brings on changes in the comparatively minor objects which con- stitute the foreground, and also, that the artist may choose a different spot, or point de vue, without ma- terially changing the general character of the scene. He may even, before beginning his sketch, alter, by physical strength, the arrangement of some of the minor objects immediately around him, and thus partly form for himself, such a distribution as is best adapted to the character of the landscape. These circumstances render the mind so easily reconcileable to any modifications of the realities of nature, in the foregrounds of paintings, that a recourse to such changes is not usually considered to detract from the graphic truth of the general prospect. Let us now proceed to those parts of the landscape which fill up the middle planes and distance. They are formed of houses, trees, castles, bridges, rocks, mountains, &c. It cannot be doubted, that any de- parture from correct form, in the most conspicuous of these objects, or their omission, will tend to diminish the general and characteristic resemblance of the picture to IN LANDSCAPi: PAINTING. 137 any given scene : and is it not evident that any such want of resemblance, or departure from the truth, in imitations of nature, generally lessens the satisfaction and interest, which every one who has travelled, or busied himself with pictui'esque beauties, experiences, in beholding the likeness of any chosen spot ? Is it not again certain, that accurate knowledge concerning the characteristic features of nature, as well in her general outlines, as in her minute particulars, becomes more and more prevalent at the present time? That the sci- ences of Geology and Botany both offer inducements to more particularizing and comparing surveys, than were formerly thought of? And is this not considered a desirable result, a step calculated for the advance- ment of art ? On the other hand, if we were to re- commend a departure from nature, not only with regard to her particulars, but respecting her general and charac- teristic features, such as the elevation of the mountains, the width of the rivers, and the style of the buildings, we should be pursuing an opposite course ; unlearning what we have learned, and adopting in our imitations, a plan which would call forth such expressions as " thereabout," " something like," and similar confused and indefinite terms. It may be objected that tiie character of a country does not result from the portraiture of individual spots contained in it, and that the artist may copy its features, — its stratifications, its vegetation, and the style of its buildings, — without strictly representing any individual rocks, trees, or houses. Hut this plan, wliich might answer very well for a (lass of compositions to uhich I ltJ8 COMPOSITION shall presently allude (not claiming to be portraits of any particular spots in nature), must fail if it pretend to point out the place that we wish to be reminded of; and, whilst attending, in the landscape portrait, to characteris- tic minutite, if we neglect the most obvious indications of locality, we have the appearance of becoming over-wise in one respect, to betray but the greater ignorance in another ; and I think we should find, that by entirely neglecting the marks which are expressive of locality, in works which claim to be representations of particular spots, we should soon allow our ideas and impressions to be involved in a degree of confusion, as much opposed to the true enjoyment of nature and advantage of art, as would result from the neglect of general characters and distinctions. Ought we, for fear of falling into this kind of igno- rance,>^proceed to trace with precision, every minute par- ticular which marks the spot, and, with the patience of Canaletti, count the bricks and tiles ? The dullness and insipidity of the Daguerreotvpe prove, that we should not be rendered so alive to the resemblance of a place by this mechanical imitation, as by one which would rather have effect and character for its aim.* "What are, then, the suitable limits to the imitation of the scenery of nature ? Can we go something beyond a lively but characteristic expression of sites or places ? Can art improve them, * Mons. Topffer has most satisfactorily shewn, by a series of very in- genious and acute observations contained in a pamphlet entitled " Reflexions d'un Peintre Gencvois," that the Daguerreotype fails to convey impressions of resemblance so forcibly as a good work of art will do, and has thus proved that it could not become a substitute for paintings. IN LANDSCAPK PAINTING. 139 render them more palatable, and cause them to please us more than such scenes in nature generally do, or might do uiulor the most favourable circumstances ? The de- cision of these points, must, I think, be left chiefly to the taste and judgment of individuals. It is evident that nature must always be preferred in her most fitting ap- parel ; but it is likewise e^ddcnt, that she herself is, at times, so much disguised by the dress put on, that her very features seem altered. The artist who knows the cause and sources of these disguises, labours to the great- est advantage. He improves and embellishes his scene, without departing from truth, and without maiming any of those permanent facts and particulars, the recognition of which is always attended with pleasure. The resources which are offered by the various aspects and seasons in which nature is beheld, are immense. Form itself depends, in a great measure, on the position selected by the observer, on the direction of the lights, and the transparency or mistiness of the atmosphere. From such causes as these, the mountains may become more elevated, the plains more vast ; depth, space, and distance, may be increased ; and the artist, who thus adds to the grandeur or beauty of a subject, by availing himself of means borrowed from nature herself, instead of tantalizing the mind, and engendering an admiration based, in a great measure, on ignorance in matters of art, instructs, at the same time that he diverts, his admirers. A frequent cause of difiicuUy, in taking views from nature, arises from the exigency of taste in matters of art. So much is demanded of her supposed perfectibility, that nature can never be oopied in all licr jiarfs indiscri- 140 COMPOSITION minately : additions and alterations are required. The artist, therefore, is frequently compelled to select some leading object fi'om the living scene ; the accessories he invents, or arranges according to his fancy, distributing them so as to shew, in the most graceful and eflPectual manner, the more prominent objects which he has bor- rowed from nature. Another plan, is that of assembling together materials furnished by different localities ; a method which may produce a very good patched- up composition, after the fashion of an Italian villa or Dutch jjarden in an En<>'- lish pleasure-ground, but having neither the merit of an invention, nor the interest of a portrait of nature. These difficulties may be obviated, and the interest which results from the association of place and climate, be partly maintained, by composing landscapes possessing the most characteristic marks of any particular country, but without embodying any individual object existing there. Thus is avoided the necessity of mutilating nature, whenever a portion of the objects does not corre- spond, in interest and beauty, with the remainder. Some countries, though sterile in picturesque beauty, are re- markable for certain general and characteristic features, and it may then be desirable not to select any particular spot for the subject, nor to adhere closely to the unpictur- esque truth. But the artist who makes it his object to secure the character of a place, and not its likeness, has the form and arrangement entirely to himself ; and he is able to attend to the demands of art, without departing from truth in the general aspect of the scene. In these different methods of appropriating the beau- IN LANDSCAPK PAINTING. 1 H ties of natural scenery to the purposes of art, from the most faithful portrait, to the most generalizino- expression, the judgment and experience of the artist will point out the degree of departure from nature, which is consistent with his plan. He will, I think, be aware, that in pro- portion as he endeavours to captivate the imagination with brilliancy of effect, and to excite the sympathies of emotion, he must be sparing of minute indications of character. The imagination is hampered by confined and exact study ; and, in the thoughtful mood, physical particulars and distinctions are willingly overlooked. In subjects of mere invention, the skill and power of the artist, alone, prescribe bounds to the imagination. The boldest flights of his fancy, may remain uncon- trolled, provided the deceits of an imaginary creation be so artfully contrived, that they do not appear to con- tradict the positive truths of nature ; and, indeed, in works of a half spiritual, half human, character, it is a matter of no very great difficulty, to elude the principles of fitness and proportion which govern the world subjected to the senses. But the chief merit of compositions of this kind, shows itself, when effects, the most extraor- dinary in appearance, are associated, in a probable and natural manner, with memorable events recorded by history, and therefore claiming a deep share of interest. In this kind of Composition, Mr. Martin has had great success ; and he has, in my opinion, made a great step, from the point at which the ancient masters left the treatment of sacred subjects of an imaginative or mys- terious character. In many of these old jjaintings, angels and demons have been introduced, with the forms 14'y EXPRESSION EXPRESSION. WITH REFERENCE TO THE FIGURE. Although the limits between Expression and that kind of excellence which is designated by the term Beauty, are uncertain and undefined in the human features (since beauty itself is based on the expression of eveiy engaging quality) ; the term Expression applies more particularly to those modifications of the features, which, independently of permanent form, are associated, either with the sudden impulses and emotions, or with the habitual modes of thinking, of individuals. The expression, therefore, which concerns the painter of the figure, is of two kinds. The one should have for its object the most habitual, and at the same time the most agreeable, manifestation of thought, of which any given features are susceptible ; and this is one of the chief aims of the portrait. The other consists in the lively indication, on the countenance, of the interest and concern which are awakened by external causes, either present or remote ; and this last is the kind of ex- pression which chiefly constitutes the interest and merit of historical paintings. A pleasing expression, though it, perhaps, may be more successful than others, is here not so necessary as in the portrait, since the interest is that which is awakened by the event, and not, as in the former, bv an air of contentment, or by an engaging demeanour. IN THK FIGURE. Hf) The expression wliich belongs to historical subjects, is either resulting from emotions too deep and sudden to admit of speech, or is derived from the very acts and gestures which accompany the extemporaneous and ener- getic utterance of words. In nature, this kind of ex- pression serves only to give additional emphasis to language ; it never becomes a substitute. This is shown by the entirely different nature of the action used in the pantomime, the mimicry of which is not borrowed from the gestures which generally accompany energetic speech, but is conventional, and adapted for acting on the imagination. In subjects of art, the circumstances and character of the personages are, in general, so well known, that the signs which are used to express their emotions arc at once understood, and the conformity of the expression to the thoughts entertained, or to the words uttered, is immediately felt. But sometimes, the subject, without being a notorious one, explains itself, like the scene of a drama or comedy taken from common life. There is here no labelling of costume to say, " This is Macbeth, Richard the Third, or Falstaff." The characters ex- pressed are rather those of a class than of distinguished individuals ; but the expression is still, such as the event would most naturally produce, according to the dispo- sitions of the various personages respectively ; and the subject becomes equally manifest, by the true and natural concurrence of the emotions, airs, and gestures, with the leading incidents. That kind of expression which is adjusted to our impressions of illustrious por.-^onagcs in history, belongs 150 KXPKKSSION to the highest department of art, and has formed the chief aim of the old Italian masters ; whilst expression connected with unknown individuals, merely denoting character, has generally been the favourite theme of the Dutch schools. An expression which is not in accordance with the feelings most natural to each individual in his respective situation, is a fault offensive to every one. In a painting of the Deposition from the Cross, by Coreggio, in the Gallery of Paraia, the female figure supporting the fainting Mary, shows on her lips, indications of a smile, which becomes repulsive from its direct opposition to the affecting event ; and in a picture of Christ taken in the Garden, by Lionello Spada, in the same gallery, this want of relation between the expression of the coun- tenances, and the circumstances of the picture, is still more strikingly offensive. In the picture of Coriolanus, by Vandyck, in the Palazzo Pallavicini at Genoa, the figure of Veturia is another instance of expression having no relation to the incident. Though well painted, it is a blank in the picture, and has the appearance of a portrait. Unity of expression is the most indispensable con- dition, wherever various figures and groups of figures are united together in one subject. This unity of ex- pression is the most usual result of the unanimous in- terest afforded by the main incident, and it generally tends to produce a certain similarity in the looks and gestures of all : but unity of expression and interest do not always appear to correspond in the same subject ; at times, unitv of interest manifests itself, in very different, IN THE FIGURE. 151 and almost opposite, expressions of the countenances, as well as attitudes of the body. This arises from the di- versity of the impressions which the same event gives rise to in various individuals. For instance, the attack of a wild beast on a child, might produce the marks of pity, terror, and the ardour of revenge, in the coun- tenances and acts of different persons, according as a greater or less degree of interest in the fate of the child, and constitutional differences of frame and temperament, would render them diversely affected by the same event. It may therefore be seen, that unity of expression may result, in the first place, fi*om a conformity of in- terest, as well as of emotion, manifested by various indi- viduals ; or it may result from the various and dissimilar emotions, caused in different persons, by one principal focus of interest and excitement. It cannot proceed from a pluralitv of principles of interest, either in ad- jacent or in distant points of a composition. Accessory incidents need not, indeed, be entirely excluded ; but in all pleasing and well-understood compositions, they are mere episodes or secondary occurrences, connected with, and dependent on, the leading idea. The Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, affords a striking example of the diversity of expression which results from the different manner in which various persons arc moved by one event. Ilaffaelle's "Transfiguration" is a most extraordinary exception to the principle of unity of expression. This picture, however, involves the question of unity of sub- ject ; a point far more delicate than unity of expression, as far as Raffaellc's judgment is concerned. In a picture lo'-2 EXPRESSION by Pietro da Cortona, in the Gallery of the Louvre, the subject of whicli is a sacrifice for the reconciliation of Jacob and Esau, this, the leading event, is represented by small figures in the background, whilst figures of in- ferior interest, and having but a small share in the action, are prominent in the foreground. The incon- sistency of such a composition is evident. This fault is, however, redeemed by great beauties in the colouring. Whenever the expression of the features, and action of the body, instead of being directed to the point of deepest interest, appear to refer chiefly to some less im- portant circumstance, the composition becomes wanting in grace. In a picture of the Baptism of our Saviour, by Paris Bordone, (formerly attributed to Giulio Romano), in the Pinacoteca of Milan, the attention is drawn to the effort made by St. John to maintain himself in a convenient situation for pouring water on the head of the Saviour, and not, by any means, to the religious emotion which one would wish to see impressed in every feature and action of the saint on such an occasion. There are other pictures of the same subject, in the galleries of Italy, in which the efforts made by St. John, to reach a suitable elevation for performing the cere- mony of baptism, are more conspicuous than his pious humility. There are several instances, in the galleries of Bologna and Parma, where expression is greatly height- ened by the beauty, refinement, and delicacy, of the countenances. It would appear, from these examples, that expression, in many cases, is to be obtained rather by a judicious selection of features appropriate to the IN TH1-: FIGURE. 15^ subject, than by an attempt to mark the characteristic signs of emotion on features coarse and insignificant, or taken indiscriminately. This applies chiefly to the female features ; but even in men, where great dignity, or the expression of that extreme benevolence which should be characteristic of divine subjects, is required, coarseness of features suffices to defeat the object. The common features of a San Francesco, by Domenichino, in the Palazzo Zambeccari at Bologna, though not out of place in a head which one is inclined to associate with that of a Franciscan monk, would appear utterly wanting in dignity in the head of our Saviour, which at first sight appears to be the subject of this painting. In the sacrifice of Isaac, in the Pinacoteca of Milan, Jordacns has given common, and almost clownish, features, to the angel sent to Abraham, instead of the seraphic beauty of a heavenly being. The features are totally devoid of expression, and even had they possessed the suitable in- dications of emotion, expression, associated with the coarse forms adopted by the artist, would probably still have remained very imperfect. I have already alluded to the principles advanced by Sir Charles Bell. He founds his interesting analysis of expression partly on a comparison, formed by antithe- sis, between its characteristic signs, in the various wild animals, and in the human features ; but principally on anatomical research respecting the office performed by each muscle of the face, when subjected to the varying influences of violent emotions. Either of these systems, carried out in practice, must lead to results far short of 154 EXl'KKSSION those delicate expressions and engaging airs of tlie countenances, which, in works of art, captivate, at the same time that they stir up our feehngs. Before, how- ever, entering into the consideration of those coarser marks of expression which physiology points out, the author, by an allusion to the mild expression of the Inuiian features in sleep, shows that he is not insensible to those delicate external signs which are chiefly per- ceived when the mind is contemplated, as through a slender veil, beyond. But his observation " that ex- pression shows itself in the sleeping features, because we judge them to be capable of it under other circum- stances,"* seems almost to be going to the opposite extreme ; for although the state of profound sleep would seem to imply the absence of all outward signs of mental activity, the features, nevertheless, disclose a particular state of the mind, quite distinct from any waking- condition which we might suppose to be devoid of the usual indications of emotion or intellectual exertion. There can be no waking state of the countenance from which thought is entirely excluded without producing vacancy. In the opinion of Winckelmann, all violent distortion of the features, in the paroxysm of emotion, is greatly detrimental to art. It disturbs, according to him, that beauty of form which should prevail, even in the violence of passion ; and he disapproves of a treatise of Le Brun, ' Hell's " Anatoni)' and Piiilosophy of Expression, as connected with the Kine Arts," Essay 1 , p. 1 0. IN THE FIGURE. 155 the examples of which have been taken from the exag- gerated effects of passion.* Intense and energetic expression may result, either from the exciting and moving nature of the event, or from the deep feeling and excitability of the beholders ; but it will appear either constrained, unnatural, or ludi- crous, when it seems resulting from a violent disturbance of the features, without due reference to the cause. The Massacre of the Innocents, by Guido, in the Accademia of Bologna, shows how much may be done, even in the most heart-rending subjects, without any excessive dis- tortion of the features. The Lucretia in the Palazzo Zampieri at Bologna, the Allegrezza Fresco, also by Guido, and in the same palace, and elsewhere, various heads of Virgins and inspired Saints, are further examples of how much expression is associated with perfection in the moulding of the features. In a Madonna by Van- dyck, in the gallery of Parma, a marked expression of placid joy is given, by the slightest motion of the lips and almost imperceptible alteration in the usual form of the countenance ; yet the intended expression is perfect, and most charming. In the Madonna della Scodella, as well as in the San Girolamo, by Coreggio, both at Parma, there are beautiful instances of the advantage which results from the adaptation of the airs of the counte- nances to the subject, with very little effort. In the original picture, this is pleasingly exemplified bv the countenance of the young angel near the figure of San * Sec Wiuckulmanii (Sur I'Ait.) vol. i. p. '.iOI. '• KcnmrqiiL' s-ur l'K.\- prcssioii (Ics Artistes Moili'iiii:'." 156 KXl'KESSION Girolamo ; but unfortunately for those who have not visited Parma, such expressions as these, cannot be ren- dered by any ordinary style of illustration. These light and delicate indications of feeling, as they remind the ob- server of expressions familiar to liini, often appear more true to nature than the marks of passion which are accompanied by a greater distortion of the features. It would seem, in many instances, as though the artist con- tented himself with placing his figures in the most easy and graceful positions which are conformable to the sub- ject, and allowed expression to follow, almost as a conse- quence, and not from a desire to produce effect, or a show of emotion. In the Sainte Marguerite delivered from the Dragon, in the Louvre, the form and attitude of the youthful saint are marked by peculiar elegance : seraphic innocence prevails in her features. Thus, to her piety and inno- cence alone, we ascribe her victory over the dragon : had she been armed with strength instead of virtue, this beautiful dependence for her preservation on a Superior Power, would not have impressed itself on the observer. A small picture bv Guido, in the collection of the Mar- quis of AVestminster, represents the adoration of the Magi ; and one of the shepherds, instead of gazing in- tently on the infant Christ, as might have been expected, has an absent and meditative look, indicating, perhaps, much more forciblv than would have done a more lively expression of interest, that amazement and deep inward emotion which stamp the impress of stupor on the fea- tures. In few niodcni j)ictures has that sweetness of expres- IN THE FIGUKK. 1.57 sion which befits graceful and delicate female features, even in deep melancholy, been more ])eautifully attained, than in the two paintings of the Sisters, from the poem "Bereavement," exhibited by Eddis, in the year 1848. If exaggeration be sometimes allowable in the expres- sion of the countenances, it appears to succeed best when its aim is to add to the animation of the features, and to impart a cheerful liveliness to the looks and attitudes, sometimes approaching to exultation. This kind of ex- pression has been introduced, with a pleasing result, in several of the pictures of Holy Families by the old mas- ters, especially by Coreggio ; and one might perhaps add, by Michael Angelo, although it has taken, in this master, a somewhat different tendency. In a painting of the Holy Family, by Andrea del Sarto, in the Louvre, it strikes you at once, that there is something uncommon in the movements and airs of the heads ; and it may be observed that character and expression are somewhat exaggerated in this picture, and that the artist, by a slight violation of truth to nature, has, without offending the taste, succeeded in affording to the observer the delight which results from livelier and more extended powers of the imagination. By giving, however, a dramatic character to the ex- pression and grouping of the figures, art falls from nature, to a pitch much lower than herself. This is the fault which does so great an injury to the paintings of the French master, David, and obliterates, in the eyes of many, the merit of his beautiful drawing and correct anatomy. Paul Veronese has, in general, avoided this defect, notwithstanding the tendency which large paint- 15 images, and forms pie- .M Hi*^ EXPRESSION tures, to itself far more perfect than any thing that art can produce ; the vagueness and uncertainty which are (.haracteristic of hindscape beauty, seem, at first, to oppose themselves to that concentration and clear devclopement of images and ideas, without which there would be no visible aim in the exercise of art. The characteristic scenes and effects of nature are, however, notwithstanding the mystery which is connected with their expression, sufficiently marked and distinct from each other, to engross a considerable degree of interest individually. The distinctive features which appear severally in the outward forms of different scenes, and the marked changes which are successively brought on, either in the usual or extraordinary course of natural events, suffice, ahke, to constitute distinctions which forcibly strike the imagination. Nature supplies to art her most valu- able stores, in those efifects which accompany her sudden transitions ; and art, in order to give additional em- phasis to the expression of these characteristic signs of nature, avails herself of various episodes and incidents of her own peculiar resort. The expression of morning or of cveninji is amonffst the liveliest which nature affords ; but the smoke rising from the cottage, cattle leaving their enclosures, or the gathering in of the harvest, the collecting of the implements, and other si- milar incidents, mav be made to give additional emphasis to the expression of these periods of the day. The more trifling and unnoticed is the incident which adds ex- pression to a scene, the greater, in general, is the pl(>a- surc resultiiijj from it. The flatr waving on the church lower, in Hogarth's picture of the Knnigcd Fiddler, to IN THE I.ANDSCAl'K. 16S indicate the ringing of the helly, whose deafening peals add to the general uproar, and to the despair of the musician, is an admirahle, though singular, instance of expression. Unity of purpose is as necessary in the expression of a landscape, as unity of action is in the historical subject. All objects must assimilate in one point, however dis- similar they may be in others. There must be some conformity of tone, and relation of form, however great the variety in the characteristic features of the subject. Expression frequently depends, in the quiet landscape, on the gracefulness and beauty of objects set in perfect unison of form and colour. A slight change in the tone of the atmosphere, or in the slender form of a hanging bough, may suffice to complete the expression of a scene thus nicelv balanced : unsubdued colours in the clothina; of the figures, the too decided green of the meadows, or a cold ripple of the water where a warm sky would other- wise be reflected, would disturb it. The artist fails in retaining these soft and delicate expressions of nature, cither in her moments of perfect stillness and repose, or when they mark her fleeting transitions ; but he forms, in his mind, an ideal picture, before he paints the real one ; he endows it with the sentiment with wliirh he is himself animated ; he then endeavours to work up, in light, shade, and colour, to the height of his inspiration, and to make others sharers of iiis own conceptions ; and he succeeds, or fails, in proportion as he impresses, more or less forcibly and distinctly, his ideal scene, on the minds of others. l64 RELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. RELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. PREDOMINATING INFLUENCE OF LIGHT. In the processes of art, relations of light and shade can only include such effects as may result from neutral tints of various degrees of intensity, from white to black ; but, considered with reference to nature, the influence of real light must be superadded. Nature affords striking examples of the predo- minating power of light over colours of all subordinate shades. Its influence sometimes prevails to such an extent, that form itself cannot be distinctly traced, and often appears changed. For instance, the sharp lights reflected on highly-polished surfaces often appear to cut into some darker object which comes across them, form- ing an apparent gap ; and the sun appears to leave a kind of depression, where it emerges in full brilliancy from the horizon ; and should it come in contact with a slender object, such as a pillar or the trunk of a tree, the brilliancy of the light appears to encroach upon its substance, and diminish its width ; an effect which Turner has happily represented in a small picture in the possession of Mr. Wyndham, where one of his luminous suns comes in contact with a tower. The prevailing influence of light, is exemplified, in a less degree, by that of white colour, as is shown by the examples 1 and 2 in the adjoining plate. Fig. 1 widens progressively from its light extremity towards the other, and fig. 2 is most contracted in the centre ; but the ten- EFFECTS OK CONTKAST. H)5 dency of the white to spread, and to prevail over darker tints, causes these bands to widen in appearance, in the wliite part ; and, viewed at a distance at which the im- pression prevails rather than the precise boundary, their sides appear parallel. Fig. 3 shows this prevalence of tlic white over a subdued or grey tint, in })roducing, when seen from a distant point, more or less the ap- pearance of a straight line with parallel sides ; and the white portion of fig. 4 appears to belong to a larger circle than the corresponding darkened portion, an effect which is strikingly exemplified by the greater apparent size of the luminous portion of the moon, in its first quarter, compared with the remainder of its disc, when rendered faintly visible by the light which is reflected from the earth. EFFECTS OF CONTKAST. The next point to be considered, in reference to liglu and shade, is the influence of contrast; embracing the various effects which are due to the exercise of a powerful stimulus on the organ of sight. The accom- panying figure is an example of the reciprocal action of neutral tints, of various shades, placed in juxtaposition. 166 HKLATJONS OF LHillT AN'O SHADE. The delusive result which may be obtained by so trifling a moans, uiuy enable us, in some degree, to appreciate the extensive and important influence of contrast, in those various and intricate combinations of lights and colours, which constitute the harmony of nature. The parallel bands of neutral tint of various shades, appear darker on the side contiguous to a lighter shade, and lighter on the side contiguous to a darker shade ; so that the whole series has a fluted appearance, although the intensity of each shade, taken separately, is uniform. If we can thus be made sensible to a delusive influence, by means so inadequate as those which are afforded by mere gradations of neutral tint, what powerful results might not be expected, from the oppositions of real light and dai'kness, had we the means of divesting any par- ticular natural appearances of all those influences which act as counterpoises and maintain that equilibrium of harmony which renders nature, subjected to the sense of vision, true and constant in her effects ! By substituting the light of nature for the white of paper or pigment, and its shadows for black, we step beyond these simple effects, and become engaged in that variety of consequences, which depends on all possible combinations both of light and of colour. I will but suggest a mode of classifying these results, and of placing them in a more comprehensible form. Tlie following are some of the pi'incipal distinctions which occur with regard to the transitions of light and shade which are presented by nature: — Firstly, The effects which are due to contrasts of light and shade on monochromatic surfaces, such as white or grey paper ; — Secondly, On surfaces affording various shade? of the EFFECTS OF CONTHAST. l67 same tint; — and, Thirdly, On surfaces of all shades, and of all colours ; in which case, the brilliancy of the most glaring colour may be united to that of a primitive light, and the darkness of the deepest colour to the ob- scurity which results fi-om the most complete practicable privation of light. In this last case, the amount of transition which is comprehended in the whole range of colours, from black to white, is combined in its effects, with those which are afforded, in nature, by the oppo- sition of the brightest lights and the deepest shadows. We may easily fancy these extremes of light and shade, as well as of colour, to occur simultaneously, under various circumstances. For instance, we may suppose the white wall of a house, fully exposed to sunshine, to project its shadow over a bank covered with brown mosses. In this case, we have the brown of the moss op- posed to the white of the house, and the projected shadow to the full sunshine ; — both must be summed up to complete the intensity of the contrast. But we may further suppose that under the house, in the shade, is a hole or small arch, with water running from it, and that this cavity likewise abounds with brown moss or black stains. All this is immediately contiguous to the side of the building which is exposed to the sun, so that the transition would be near enough to he t'olt. To the previous gradation from sunshine to the projected shadow, we have, therefore, now added the increased gloom which results from a cavity, perhaps further sheltered by surrounding foliajje. Similar examples of contrast, or approaching in power, may occur in a hmidn-d ways; as for instance. 1()8 UELATIONS OF I.KJHT AND SHADE. when the white hark of certain trees catches the light of the sini, which is excluded from their blackened hollows ; and when sunny rocks and cliifs open, in their shadowy recesses, clefts and fissures darkened by the weeds and water. The clothing of figures, frequently adds very dark local colours to the shadiness of the situation. I need not multiply the examples. It will be evident, that the greatest intensity of contrast which could be pro- duced, would result from the strongest light associated to the brightest colour, on the one hand, and the deepest shadow in connection with the material the best adapted to absorb light, on the other. But it is probable, that we are prevented, by that construction of the eye which enables us to distinguish objects with considerable dis- tinctness in deep shadow, from appreciating the entire amount of contrast which may result from the combined influence of the extremes of light and colour, set in op- position. The sun itself, if we are momentarily able to observe it, when at a considerable elevation in the sky, does not give the impression of a violent contrast with the surrounding space ; which may partly be accounted for, by the incapability of the organ of sight to ap- preciate the degree of darkness which borders the most intense light, and partly from the luminous atmosphere by which the sun appears to be surrounded. The intense contrast of light and dark which appears to accompany a flash of lightning, results, probably, from the previous condition of the eye, the pupil of which, being dilated by the prevailing darkness, becomes ex- tremely sensible to the sudden brilliancy of the light- iiing. Thii#-i.s, perhaps, the strongest example of light EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 1 1)9 and darkness, to which we are rendered familiar by na- tural effects. It is probably surpassed however by those which are produced artificially, by the combustion of certain highly inflauimable substances in darkened rooms. The deepest shadows which arc presented, in the ordinary eflPects of nature, are far from realizing the impression which we form of complete darkness ; for there are no recesses, however protected, which do not receive light, in a greater or less degree, by reflexion ; and the increase of light in the shadows, provided the circumstances be not altered, takes place in a ratio cor- responding to that of the primitive light. Generally speaking, the intensity of the contrast does not appear to increase with the strength of the primitive light, unless the transparency of the atmosphere be, at the same time, increased. For instance, the observation of the lights and shadows which are produced by sunshine, does not convev the impression of contrasts greatly exceeding in depth those which are formed by the light of the moon ; and it may be doubted, whether the latter do not some- times appear equally strong. Likewise from sunrise till noon, the amount of contrast between the lights and the ])rojected shadows, does not appear to increase in the same ratio as tlio light itself. If the increase of the primitive light, in such cases, were represented by tens, the progression of the reflected light in the shadows, would be indicated by the corresponding units ; !)ut these data are imperfect guides in judging of the ap- [)arent effect. Tlic diifcrence between the relative ap- parent intensity of the shadows and of the lights, cliieflv 170 RELATIONS Ol LIGHT AND SHADE. dei)eiids, in sucli cases, upon the degree of purity ot" the atmosphere ; the shadows being ver^ deep when the sky is clear, and proportionably faint when it is thick and hazy. In fact, the apparent intensity of all projected shadows, is proportionate to the absence, or removal, of all objects which might reflect light. In an open ph\in, the projected shadows are much deeper, if the sky be clear, than in inclosed places ; but the presence, in the sky, of a few bright clouds, will at once diminish the depth of the shadows. I have remarked an extraor- dinary degree of intensity, in the shadows projected by the rocks on the summit of Mount Righi ; an effect which was produced by the combined influence of a pure atmosphere, and of the absence of all neighbouring objects which might reflect light. On the other hand, in places inclosed between white walls, where the sun, shining upon one of them, is reflected back upon the other, as well as on the space between, the projected shadows will at times almost disappear. I have endeavoured, by employing gradations of neutral tint, from white to black, to establish a term of comparison for the intensity of the transitions which mark the passage from sunshine to shadow, and from simple shadow to the darkness of a confined spot pro- tected from all light. I came to the approximate con- clusion, that when the projected shadows of an object were very perfect, and little influenced by reflected lights, the transition alluded to, could be represented, only three times, by the different shades of neutral tint which occur between white and black. I conceive that it may be necessary to explain the manner in which the EFFECTS OF CONTKAST. 17 1 experiment was performed, in order to be understood. A board is taken, having, in the first place, different shades of neutral tint, from white to black. The shade No. 1 has such a degree of darkness, that, placed in the sun, it appears to match the pure white, in the shade which is projected by an opaque body. The passage, therefore, from pure white to shade No. 1, corresponds with the transition from sunshine to shadow, on a surface of an uniform tint. In the second experiment, the tint No. 2, placed in the sunshine, is made to match No. 1 in the shade ; and in the third experiment, the tint No. 3, which corresponds to black, will match, when placed in the sunshine. No. 2 in the shade : and here we have the transition from primary sunshine to simple pro- jected shadow, repeated three times over, by the gra- dations which are afforded by the pallet from white to black. But I must here observe, that simple shadow is not the deepest shadow that nature affords, even in broad daylight. The shadows of hollows and recesses, espe- cially if their surface be darkened so as to absorb light, are much deeper. If, therefore, we compare the scale of artificial tints with nature, we shall find that, according to the previous comparison, we are one shade wanting at the bottom of the series ; since it would require one degree more of shade, added to black, to make it equal the darkness of sheltered hollows. The transition, therefore, from bright sunshine to the dark- ness of the most obscure recesses, would oidy be equalled twice, speaking proximatolv, by the whole range of tints, or neutral compounds, from pure white to black. The 172 KKI,AT10NS Ol' MGIIT AND SIIADK. pure white witli which those supply us, put in u shady place, or in a room (which corresponds, to a certain extent, to a shady situation out of doors), is equivalent only to a grey tint placed in the sun ; and, at the lower end of the scale, the darkest black in simple shade, is ecjual only to a dark grey placed in a gloomy recess. What in nature exceeds the former in brilliancy, and the latter in darkness, art cannot furnish by any material means : we shall afterwards consider whether it can, in some measure, supply the deficiency by artifice. More- over, in scenes in which the sun's light is reflected by polished surfaces, as by water, some leaves of trees, and other glazed or glossy surfaces, we have a degree of light considerably exceeding the brilliancy of sunshine on unpolished surfaces of any colour. If it be, there- fore, our intention to introduce these primary and dazzling reflexes, in any part of a picture, it will beconK' necessary to keep those tints which represent sunshine on light-coloured objects, a degree lower than would be otherwise necessary ; and the remainder of the scale, down to black, will become more limited. Using colours to match the transition from sunshine to shadow, instead of neutral tints, the number of gra- dations becomes reduced ; since, instead of having white for the starting point, we begin with a positive colour more or less inferior to the brilliancy of white. Taking, however, a series of yellow gradations, beginning with chrome yellow, the great brilliancy of that colour, allows the transition from sunshine to shadow to be matched nearly three times, down to black, if the atmosphere be not particularly clear, but little more than twice, willi a EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 17'^ transparent and deep blue sky ; for in this last case, the yellow, placed in the shade, is exposed only to the blue rays of light, which that pigment does not reflect, and therefore loses much of its brilliancy. With the red and blue series, the experiment can only be repeated about twice ; the starting points, namely, vermilion in the one case, and cobalt blue in the other, being considerably inferior, in their degree of brilliancy, to white, or even to chrome yellow. At the lower end of the scale, where those colours are situated which absorb the greatest quantity of light, a much less decided difference of tone is required, to equal the transition from sunshine to shadow, than at the upper end of the scale ; for the influence of the sun on the lighter colours, is much more apparent. This is important in paintings where coloured draperies are introduced, since it shows that in dark-coloured materials, the passages from light to shade must be put in, relatively speaking, in a less de- cided manner than in light-coloured textures. Diferences which result, in the impression produced on the eije, by the dimensions of the contrasting object or linl. — The following circumstances, connected with contrasts of light and shade, have a great influence on the practical method of representing objects in paint- ings. It is necessary, in the oppositions of light and shade, that the chiaro-scuro be presented to the eye in masses of a certain extent, in order to produce the full amount of contrast of which it is capable. Those transi- tions which are presented in a minute form, escape, in a great measure, observation. This mav be practically 174 RELATIONS OV LIGHT AND SHADE. shown, by plnciiig bars or slips, of various thicknesses, in a window-frame, that is to say, between the observer and the principal source of light. Although they be all of the same colour, they will appear more or less dark according to their width or tenuity ; the thickest or widest appearing considerably darker than those which are most slender. And if slips or other slender objects, placed at various distances from the eye, be brought into apparent contact with each other, they become darker than when viewed singly, and their increase of darkness is, to a certain extent, proportionate to the ap- parent increase of width produced by the aggregation of the slips. When slips or bars, at unequal distances from the eye, are so placed that they appear to cross each other, the point of contact is marked by an increase of shade, forming, as it were, a dark spot. This effect is, how- ever, not exactly the same in all positions. The dark- ened spot appears to correspond with the intersection, chiefly, when a vertical object crosses one placed hori- zontally, as in Fig. 1. When slender objects cross each Ffg. 2. F^.3. Fif;.\. EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 175 other diaoonally, the darkened knots do not appear to correspond with the intersections, but they are con- spicuous at a point contiguous to that of conjunction, as in Fig. 2. In representing, therefore, slender objects which cross each other either contiguously or at various distances, the effects of nature would justify our making tliem a little harder, or more marked, either at the in- tersecting points, or in the immediate vicinity. It will perhaps be seen, that in Fig. 3, where the bars are ren- dered with flat shade, the effect is less natural ; but as the result varies, with the relative position of the ob- servei', and of the objects which cross each other, some variety is allowable in the manner in which these cross- ings are emphasized in a drawing, especially in irregular objects. Almost every one with whom art is a pursuit, has some vague knowledge of the proponderating influence which is exercised by extent or breadth in uniform shades of tint and colour. The tree which stands out surrounded by the atmosphere, is not painted, even by the unskilled, equally dark and heavy in its centre and oil its visible edge or boundary ; although, from its situation, the masses of foliage would be equally exposed to light on all parts of its circumference. The intuitive appreciation of contrasts speaks even to the child, and instructs liiin that the same tint will appear darker on the edire next the lijiht, than where it is surrounded bv shade. Facts so obvious require to be neither parti- cularly impressed nor elucidated. It is, however, in effects like these, which arc more easily appropriated to the daily purposes of art than examined, that routine 17<> UELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SIIADK. creeps in as it were by stealth, and misleads, not only the indifferent with regard to the truths of nature, but even those who, making her their ostensible study, neglect to analyse and to compare. Those changes in the appearance of objects placed at unequal distances from the eye, which are due to the difference of the focus of vision which is used alter- nately to see the nearer and the more distant object, make little impression on the senses, although they are, in reality, very considerable ; for the attention of the observer being always directed to the point on which both eyes are simultaneously fixed, that point or object appears to him at the moment invariably perfect : and with such instinctive rapidity is the glance transferred from one object to another, in the appreciation of forms, that it may be presumed that the impression of com- pleteness of that last observed, has not disappeared, indeed, has scarcely diminished, ere the new object, or the part of it upon which the eye is directed, is distinctly beheld. Indistinctness in the boundaries of objects, doubtless occurs in flashes, as the glance is transferred from one point to another ; which, with one or two other circumstances unnecessary to particularize, contributes to the appreciation of the intervals of space which separate objects one from another. These undefinable and transi- tory effects cannot be rendered, or even attempted with any chance of success, on flat surfaces. But the omission of effects, of which we become fully sensible only by taking as it were our own impressions by surprise, cannot be much felt in the picture, in whicli the subject itself absorbs the whole (if the attention. It niav, however, be EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 177 well to exclude from it the representation of such objects as are situated in the close proximity of the eye. I will return to the effects of contrast before alluded to, and which are entirely independent of the' focus of vision. If we draw lines of various thicknesses, but of equal strength or hardness, on white paper, as in Fig. 5, we find that the result corresponds, exactly, to that of slender bars or slips placed before a strong light, and that the narrowest appear excessively faint, whilst the broadest appear dark and heavy, the progression of strength being proportionate to the apparent width of the lines. Or if a series of parallel lines be drawn, so close together that the intervals between them almost dis- appear (see Fig. ()), they again acquire an apparent degree of shade and darkness, which we do not connect with the appearance of each line taken singly. Fig. 5. Fig. 6. This simply brings us back to what I have stated before, that it is not merely the intensity of tiic shade, but the mass or extent of surface which it covers, which is N 178 UEI.VTIONS or LIGHT ANU SHADE. required, in order to produce the greatest amount of contrast. There is, however, a point at which the di- mensions of the object which is placed against a strong light, or the extent of darkened surface on a white ground, cease to add to the intensity of the opposition. When the angular or visual size of the object inter- cepting the light, becomes increased to a certain extent, either by adding to its width, or by drawing it nearer to the eye, its surface loses somewhat of its darkness, and the influence of secondary reflections becomes apparent. Thus, if I place in a position to intercept the light, bars or slips, of various colours as well as sizes, those which are neither wide nor extremely attenuated, appear dark, and of an uniform colour ; but as their width in- creases, their colour becomes proportionately more ap- parent; and coloured bands having about an inch in width, show their colour tolerably distinctly, when placed at the distance of a yard or two from the eve. This can be stated but in an approximate manner ; the point at which the effect of contrast appears to diminish, and the local colour of the object to prevail, differing considerably with every observer, owing to the difference of the focus of sight of various individuals. Short-sighted persons would not perceive the local colours of objects placed before a glaring light, from so distant a point as would long-sighted individuals. They are obliged to approach much nearer, before the influence of contrast gives place to local colour. But this effect, though variable in its degree, is nevertheless constant whenever the influences which occasion it are at hand. Let us mark the contrasting influence of a strong KFFF.CTS OK CONTRAST. 179 light, Oil the most delicato forms of nature ; for instance, as it affects the appearance of the twigs and light foliage of trees, and the stems of plants. When a slender twig or reed crosses the sky and distance of a landscape ; as it passes from a luminous portion of the background, to one that is less so, for instance, in passing over a small cloud, or a distant hill, it becomes more marked and distinct on the cloud or hill, than on the sky and lightest parts of the distance ; whereas, if the object be of large dimensions, it is when opposed to the greatest light, that the contrast will appear the greatest. The stem of a tree, a thick post or pillar, and a distant tower, there- fore, become darker, from contrast, as they rise above the neighbouring objects into the luminous atmosphere of the sky. Let us again mark the result, when a semi- transparent mass, such as the light foliage of a tree, extends over a background more illuminated in one part than in another. It will appear more light and trans- parent against the luminous part of the sky, than against the darker portion. The light, appearing abundantly through the intervals of the foliage, produces the same result, as if the leaves were of a lighter and more trans- parent character. A less quantity of light behind, ren- ders the appearance of the foliage heavier. The effect, therefore, corresponds to that of the slender form, taken singly. The light liehind does not add to the contrast, but takes off from the hardness of the opposition. Har- mony and softness are secured by nature, and contrast itself diminished, where, if too powerful, harshness would result. Thus, the circumstance that the eye loses the 180 RELATIONS OF MGIIT AND SHADE. exact delineation of slender objects which arc surrounded by a luminous atmosphere, becomes a means by which lightness and delicacy arc infused into those parts of a landscape where they arc required, whilst, at the same time, the whole effect of contrast is maintained, where the bulk and opacity of the objects demand it. But, in cases of contrast, it is difficult to say when the effect requires to be superadded in the imitation, and when the similarity of the conditions of the drawin"; with those of nature, is of itself sufficient. It may be easy, when the local colour of an object is known to be decidedly lighter or darker than one behind it, or when its exposure to the light is unquestionably greater or less, to determine whether it shall be made to come out in light, or in dark ; but when the tint of an object appears modified by the unequal influence of neigh- bouring contrasts, it cannot easily be determined what allowances are to be made, with regard to positive colour, for those apparent changes which depend on relative effect. For instance, a slender pillar in the aisle of a church, although its tone be uniform throughout, or nearly so, becomes dark where it crosses a window, and light again where it traverses the dark recesses of the vaults or groining. In nature, these transitions in the appearance of the column, are owing entirely to effects neighbouring or correlative. The colour and lighting of the column itself, may be perfectly uniform. But, in the painting, will these accompanying circumstances, if correctly introduced, with mere pigment for light, and without any contrivance or artifice, produce a corre- sponding result ? Or will it be necessary to modify the EFFECTS OF CONTUAST. 181 tone of the column itself, in its different parts, in order to give the character of truth to appearances which, in nature, are superinduced, and not real ? In the Molino of Claude Lorraine, a little to the left of the centre, there is a slender graceful tree, with scanty foliage, the stem of which winds across the tower of the mill, and emerges thence into the sky. Being so slender and distant an object, it might be difficult to say, how far the deep tone of the building would absorb the light on the stem of the tree, and whether its dia- meter would be sufficient to make it come out, in light contrast, on the dark background. Claude has not made the stem of this tree at once lighter, as it passes from the clear skv to the darker ground presented by the tower ; but, deepening the colour of his brush, has caused the stem to come out in soft shade, as he ex- tended it across the tower. As it widens downwards, however, a little light is thrown upon it, which brings it out with contrast, upon the building. With such appa- rently feeble means of relief, this object does not appear to adhere to the building, but stands out, lightly and freely. It is one of those cases, in which the exact degree of opposition which each touch of colour meets with, as it is put on, requires to be nicely weighed against those conditions of contrast, which would occur from really existing causes. Where the shrouds of the vessels, in Claude's sea-views, come across buildings more distant, their appearance is natural enough, being somewhat heavier than where they traverse the sky ; and it is probable, that although, in nature, ropes do not change their actual colour, whether there be skv or 182 KKl.ATIONS OF LIGHT ANU SHAUK. building-s behind them, Claude found it necessary to paint them considerably darker, where they came out upon the buildings. In paintino', we confine ourselves entirely to appearances, whether they be those of light or of pigment ; and it is desirable that we should, for a time, forget how we know things really to be. The diversity which characterizes the colours of objects, is so great, that, generally speaking, any object which, in nature, comes before another more distant, appears to take a shade and colour, contrasting de- cidedly with that of the object which it crosses ; but should the object happen, in certain points, to be of the same tone and colour as the field which it traverses, it is not always necessary, in imitative art, that any means for producing relief should be substituted for those which are wanting- in nature. A contrast in some portion of the object, suffices to give relief to the whole ; and its appearance becomes less stiff and formal, than when the background has been kept studiously dark, in order that the nearer object may come out with a marked relief on every point. A little uncertainty as to form and relative position, is far more pleasing, than would be a boundary having everywhere the precision of a line traced with the burin. Most of the principal facts connected with the ap- pearance of objects subjected to such influences as are of daily occurrence, appear so familiar, that it seems almost superfluous to mark them out especially for observation. That objects become indistinct, not only in proportion as the side which we are looking at be- comes deprived of light, but also in proportion as the EFFECTS Ol' CONTRAST. 183 space behind is more luminous, is a fact known to every one. No person who wishes to see the counte- nance of his friend, thinks of seating him at the window, and taking a seat for himself at the other end, or the centre, of the room. But, simple and well understood as is this principle in its main results, it does not appear to be appreciated as it ought to be, nor sufficiently applied to art, in its various degrees of influence ; and there are many paintings, excellent in other respects, in which the influence of a light behind an object, is not duly ac- counted for. For instance, figures having the sky for their background, ai'e often put into landscapes, with their features as distinct and marked as if they were placed in a room with a dark ground and a side light ; whereas, figures which come out on a luminous atmo- sphere, appear invariably to lose, more or less, that precision of detail which characterizes them when they are lighted up in front, and stand out before a dark background. It may be further observed, that objects which are placed before a bright light, appear to bori'ow their hue, more or less, from the glow which surrounds them. Any strong light surrounding an object, or which is seen beyond it, counteracts the efi'ect of the light which is thrown upon it more feebly from the opposite di- rection, and appears to diffuse an indistinct warmth or glow over its whole surface. Thus, the shadowy side of a figure placed against the light, does not become opaquely dark, but derives a transparent warmth from the ajjparent mingling of the rays of light by which the object is surrounded, with the small portion which 184 RELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. is reflected from its surface. The glow of a luminous background, as it appears to extend more or less over the objects before it, causes the most opposite colours to harmonize with each other. Thus, blue, green, and even white draperies, may be brought together under the influence of this aerial efifect of light, without any disturbance of the necessary repose of the scene. I would ask any observer of nature to call to his assist- ance the effects of any bright sunset which he may have witnessed, and to consider its influence on intervening objects. When the sky is illuminated in the west, you will observe, on looking in that direction, that the trunks of the trees, which are bordered on either side by the blaze of the atmosphere, appear of a warm brown tint, harmonizing perfectly with the colour of the sky beyond ; but as you trace the colour of the objects which are situated to the right and left at a greater distance from the focus of light, you w\\\ perceive that they partake of the cold reflexes resulting from the colour of the sky in the opposite direction. In representing, therefore, comparatively slender objects, surrounded by a strong light, we take very little account of their local colour, since their appearance is an assumed one, de- pendent on relative effects ; but as their removal from the source of these effects causes their influence to diminish, local colours and appearances prevail, and the object becomes, if I may so express myself, characterized by individuality. I have observed the marble columns of an open portico, to lose the spots and veined ap- pearance of the marble, when I placed myself in such a position that the columns appeared backed bv the EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 185 strong light which was admitted at the extremity of the portico ; but when I changed my position, so that the light became hidden, the veins of the marble reap- peared, without any additional light on the column itself. In the landscape scene, one portion of which is illu- minated, whilst the other portion is thrown into shade, similar results occur, variously modified according to the strength and distribution of the lights. The im- mediate effect of a gleam of light thrown across a land- scape, particularly if it extend to that part which is near the observer, is not only to increase the gloom of adjacent parts in a degree proportionate to the intensity of the light, but to render all minuter objects, there situated, indistinct, and sometimes almost imperceptible. This circumstance, which appears to be principally owing to the contraction of the pupil of the eye in the presence of a strong light, is one of the chief sources of the variety of effect which is exemplified in every kind of scene, producing results as advantageous to art, as they are pleasing in the scenery of nature ; for, as I shall en- deavour to show, it affords the elements of two distinct styles. The one, which is based on high finish, elabo- rateness, and the graphic representation of every object, is presented to us when an unifoi-m light pervades a scene of any kind ; the absence of all partial and dazzling lights, then allows the eye to discover every detail, and to appreciate the due value of every local tint : whereas the foundation of the other style dejiends u[)iiii tlic contrasting influence of a brilliant liglit thrown across some portion of the landscape ; in which case, 18G HELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. the details and minutiae disappear, and boldness of the masses, united to breadth of effect, prevails. Thus, in proportion as chiaro-scuro, combined with simplicity of form, becomes the predominant characteristic of a pic- ture, the interest derived from minute and graphic representation is less required. The indistinctness which is thrown over any portion of a scene by the contrast of light, becomes an advantage, when, owing to the tameness of its objective, its interest must depend on effect of light and shade ; whereas, if its attraction be derived from a different source, namely from the picturesque assemblage of the objects, the effects which result from partial lights would be detri- mental to its beauty, since many interesting particulars become lost to the observer, by the remarkable influence of a strong light adjoining the shady parts. Pleasing changes are thus produced in glens, and in situations shaded by dense masses of foliage, when the alternate appearance and concealment of the sun behind a rock or lofty tree, produces gleams of sunshine, varying in their position as the hour advances. I have sketched a scene in the valley of Lutchenen, near Interlaken, with two distinct and opposite effects. In the first case, the light was nearly uniform all over, and the sketch owed its interest to the form and cha- racter of broken fragments of rocks bordering a foaming torrent. The mosses and herbs gi'owing upon them, every mark and stain, and every minute incident con- nected with the locality, were there with the precision and distinctness of a Brueghel. In the other case, the entire bed of the torrent was thrown into shade bv a EFFECTS OF CONTRAST. 187 group of lofty firs ; but a sunbeam, reaching the fore- ground, brilliantly illuminated a few sprigs and bushes. This bright light, being so near the eye, sufficed to throw the space beyond into comparative darkness, and to render indistinct the objects there situated. A slender bridge of firs, thrown from rock to rock across the torrent, would perhaps have escaped notice, had it not been that, now and then, a figure, rendered visible by the colours of the clothing, or perhaps by its very motion, attracted the eye to that point. In both cases, the scene owed its interest to very distinct principles of picturesque effect. The following is an effect, due to similar causes, which I have frequently witnessed in the Alps. A mountain lo the east conceals the rising sun ; and in order better to enter into the subject, I beg the reader to take a seat on a grassy eminence, with the mountain before him. Its flanks are covered with rocks and pasture, interspersed with wood. Before the sun has reached the ridge of the mountain, the general light of day is sufficient to enable you to see clearly the separate masses of the trees, the grey colour of the rocks, and the green patches of pasture. (See 1st Plate of the Valley of Interlakcn.) The distinctness of these objects increases with the general light diffused throughout the atmosphere, until the sun has reached the brow of the mountain. At that moment, the spot on which you are seated, being illuminated by its direct rays, throws into apparent shade the mountain before you, and the objects thereon grow tonfused and indeterminate. (Sec '2d I'late.) 'I'his indistinctness increases as the foreground becomes 188 RELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. more exposed to the sun's rays. Perhaps tlie inoniin{»; vapours, and the smoke from some cottages, becoming illuminated as the sun ascends, still further intercept the view of the mountain, which appears enveloped in a dense mist ; and its objects do not re-appear with a distinct form, till the sun begins to tip the hanging woods and projecting rocks with its bright yellow, and to separate them, one by one, from the indistinct mass. The mechanism of stage scenery affords resources, with regard to lights and shades, which no usual process of art possesses ; and those very results which depend on the contraction of the pupil of the eye, may be made subservient to the production of some of the most bril- liant and overpowering effects. By throwing the audience into shade or light, may be produced alternately, those results which depend on a clear and prominent objective, and those which are due to indistinctness and uncer- tainty ; for when the theatre, or the fore part of the stage, is lighted up, that penetrable indistinctness which represents the more mysterious and sublime effects of nature, seems to pervade the remoter parts. These effects, which, according to the distribution of the light, may either be rendered partial, or be made to pervade the whole scene, become the means of a variety and power in the imitation of nature, of which, transpa- rencies, as well as luminous beams projected through a misty atmosphere, further extend the resources. Neither the merit due to some of these representations, in their present state of advancement, nor the importance which they might be made to acquire, by further imj)rove- ments and more extensive application, appears to have CHIARO-SCURO. 189 been, as vet, duly appreciated ; thougli from tlie lively impression which such scenic eiFects are cakulated to exercise on the imagination, as well as fi-om their po- pular character, such exhibitions are particularly calcu- lated to exercise a favourable influence on our national recreations, and to extend to all classes, a taste for the sublime wonders which often teem in the most unnoticed natural phenomena. ON CHIAROSCURO. Chiaro-scuro is one of the principal means employed for obtaining relief. It causes all such objects as are wanting in the distinction of colour, to come out before each other ; and it renders those which these local dif- ferences cause to appear distinct, still more prominent. But to make the attainment of relief the chief aim of so extensive and useful a principle in art, would be mis- taking its object, and assigning to it, invariably, a part in the picture, which it frequently is not called upon to fulfil. Relief is, in fact, (and I must here express my concurrence in Mr. Ruskin's views), not the object of the picture. If it were, an entirely different plan of proceeding must be adopted. Instead of having, as is at present the case, a supposed direction for the light, in every picture, coming from the right, from the left, or in front, according as the artist deems fit after consi- dering the effect of his piece, his chief consideration would be, the direction of the real light, that is to say, the position of the window in tlic hall or (■liiiiul)er which lf)0 RF.LATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. his work is intended to decorate ; and the scene or subject chosen, would be such as would afford the means of establishing an easy and immediate connexion with the lights of the apartment, so that they would appear to play upon the objects or figures, and have that reality which, in works intended to be pictures, they do not possess, because, in a picture, the lights are only supposed or conventional. The intended result, when- ever relief forms the chief object in view, must be an illusion, and not a painting. Instead of a record of nature, hung up in an apartment for its embellishment, we must expect to see the representation of a window, opening, seemingly, into a vestibule or gallery, and affording a deceptive resemblance of some prospect beyond. In carrying out a design of this nature, one of the chief points to be considered would be, the re- lation which the supposed prospect seen through this opening would have to the apartment itself, to the pre- vailing colours, and to the light which there predo- minates ; and if the supposed opening had the ap- pearance of leading to an architectural scene, the lights and shadows on the columns and other parts, would be put in with reference to the light of the apartment with which the architectural scene appeared to be con- nected, as far, at least, as the influence of this light of the apartment would extend. Thus, the effect (as is the case in imitations of galleries, courts, and per- spectives which are intended for illusions) is entirely subservient to the conditions of light, and other causes, which are apparent in the apartment itself, or which would seem to be most likely to prevail beyond its limits. CHIAKO-SCURO. If)! Such contrivances as these, when they do succeed in pro- ducing a momentary delusion, are certainly ingenious, and mark a considerable degree of practical talent ; but, in Italy, they are frequently seen in country towns and villas, by unknown artists ; and even those imitations of stone bass-reliefs, which, by a minute observance of the direction, extent, and depth, of the shadows, in reference to the nature and position of the principal light in the apartment itself, astonish us by the per- fection of the relief, and make us often trust to our eyes rather than to an informed guide, — even these works, however extraordinary, do not establish the reputation of the artist, should he possess one. The simple oil painting, which, not having the same aim, nor any concerted adaptation of real light, cannot pre- tend to the same perfection with respect to relief, becomes, nevertheless, a very different criterion of real genius, and even of general powers of execution. We may, therefore, easily conceive, that perfect relief is as remote from the real purpose, as it is beyond the attain- ment, of the painting in its usual form. Although relief may be considered as an additional advantage, and deserve attention as long as other points are not sacrificed to it, the artist would decidedly take a false view of the callings of art, who would set it up as a goal, directing towards it all his exertions ; and unfor- tunately, to strive, as some have done, for this kind of eminence, generally involves the neglect of other at- tainments which ought to have stood foremost. We cannot expect to see those powers which, like projection and relief, may be tei-nied practical, united, in per- 192 KELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADE. fection, witli those which, like expression and beauty, are fruits of the imagination and sentiment; our physical nature is opposed to it. But in the picture, cliiaro- scuro, or light and shade, has other purposes to fulfil than those which in nature serve to mark the rotundity and projection of form. A happy distribution of the lights and shades, becomes of itself a source of pleasing effect and beauty ; at times by concentrating the effect, and consequently the impressions of the observer, towards a given point, at times by extending the interest, with the dispersing of the lights, over a wider scene. It is toward the attainment of effect that the varied resources of light and shade are thus chiefly directed. Without this enlivening principle, the eye of the observer, satisfied with a first glance at a picture, would imme- diatelv seek for recreation and amusement elsewhere, so necessary it is that favour and attention should be won in the first place by the external appearance, in order that those more hidden perfections which are the result of profound thought and assiduous study, may in turn receive their due consideration. Light and shade are always at our command, to compensate for what is wanting in form and in positive colour. Where there is too great a redundancy and reduplication of forms and tints, projected shadows, or gleams of light, will connect them all in unity of effect, and establish simplicity where, previously, multiplicity prevailed ; and where simplicity draws itself out into sameness, the diffusion of various lights breaks the monotony, and the most bald and uniform objects become teeming with variety. LIGHTS 01' DIVKltS HUES. \9^ Lights and shades, diffused over a distant scene, are invaluable as a means of obtaining breadth, without interfering with any of those arrangements connected with locality, which it may be desirable to maintain. The stream of light combines unity with transparency. It admits of the objects being seen distinct from each other, and yet connects them with the link of one common efifect ; and even where the floating lights are multiple and diversified, the common source whence they proceed, connects them, and the objects upon VFhich they fall, in the same idea. The multiplication, however, of these lights, in the landscape, cannot, in general, be commended. If car- ried to excess, this evil is, perhaps, greater than that of reduplication of form. These fugitive and dispersed lights perplex and unsettle the observer; — he finds no resting-place. I have been struck with this fault, in some of the landscapes at our modern exhibitions, other- wise well executed. The introduction of a principal light, more brilliant and extended than the others, and more or less connected with them, does not disturb in the same manner. It forms a centralizing point, which the eye expects, and seeks more or less, in a picture. LIGHTS OF DIVERS HUES. The simultaneous introduction of two lights of dif- ferent kinds, although it might seem to divide the at- tention, does not produce a bad effect. By different kinds of light, I mean such as prevail, simultaneously, o 194< KEI.ATIONS OK IICIIT ANU SHADK. when the light of the moon is contrasted, in its pale eflFects, with those of a lamp or fire ; when the light admitted into a cathedral, through painted windows, is contrasted with the natural hue of daylight, which comes in from an opposite direction ; or, when the sun, break- ing through the clouds or partial mist, produces warm tints, which are opposed to the cold light which prevails elsewhere. Great diversity even, is admissible in the combinations of lights of various kinds, without producing an offensive result. The artist will necessarily avoid such as would tend to form separate and distinct effects, and divide his picture into two parts : but the lights which come in different directions, mutually cross each other, as they illuminate the opposite sides of the objects in the scene ; the result of which is, that the diffusion of the lights, where they meet, becomes irregular and varied, and they mingle insensibly with each other. SHADOWS OF DIVERS HUES. If there be more than one luminary or principal light, the colour of the shadow produced by any one of them is determined by that of the other primary lights. Thus, if a scene be illuminated at once by the moon and by a blazing fire, the shadow caused by the latter, partakes of the cold light of the moon, whilst a shadow from the moon assumes the warm tints of the fire : and, if the light of a lamp be added, different in tone to the two preceding, its shadows will present the mixed tints of the fire and moonlio;ht ; the shadows of the fire will ■x.. SHADOWS OF DIVERS HUES. 1 D-'J partake of the combined light of the lamp and of the moon ; and so forth : the general light will be a com- bination of all three, although each, alternately, be- comes more prevalent in certain parts. The apparent tone of shadows in general, is, in a great measure, determined by the relation of the secondary, or, rather, tertiary, lights reflected there, with the predominant lights of the scene. In the effects of sunset, the reflexes or secondary lights of the shadowy parts, appear cold, compared with the warmth of the sunshine. Even in the daytime, the shadows have mostly a bluish tinge, in open situations, because the principal light of reflection is that of the sky. The sun's light is, nevertheless, white at noon ; and, under the trees, the shadows obtain by comparison a warm yellow tinge, which is increased by the partial trans- parency of the foliage, — the light which is admitted by transparent objects, being, in general, warmer than that which is thrown oft' from their exterior surface. There is, therefore, no positive rule as to the relative colour of objects in the light and in the shade. In proportion as the shadow becomes dark and colourless by the di- minution of reflected light, its apparent tone or colour is the more subjected to the influence of relation ; and the tone of the deepest shades in nature, may be con- sidered to be almost entirely relative. If the prevailing tone of the lights be cold, the deepest shadows will appear warm, by comparison ; and if the prevailing tints of the lighted portion be warm, the local darks, if there be any reflexes, will appear, bv comparison, of a some- what colder hue. Hut the light nliirh, more or less, is 19() RELATIONS OK I.I(;I1T AND SIIADK. evcrvwhere diffused, or, what might be termed tlie ambient light, has, 1 believe, in almost every case, some influence in warming the shadows ; and in no instance, scarcely, docs the greatest dark of tlic hollows appear cold. It is a fact familiar to every artist, that opaque black does not represent the shadows of nature, and that the browns and bitumens are better suited, partly because thev have a closer relation to the effijct of nature, partly because they possess transparency, one of the most es- sential characteristics of shadows. If the shadows of nature are best represented by warm browns, this may be partly owing to the manner in which these transparent colours are put on as glazings, the effect of which is to produce those successive modifications of shadow which are characteristic of transparency. But I believe the successful use which has been made, by the Dutch masters, of these warm shadows, to depend chiefly on the conformitv to nature of their relations with the lights ; as, for instance, where the tone of the shadows is chiefly relative to that of the sky and distance, it is conformable to nature to employ, constantly, warm shadows, which, filling up the whole of the foreground, oppose the coolness of the distance ; but, in scenes in which varied lights and colours prevail, the relation of the shadows must be adapted accordingly. There may be warmer objects in their vicinity, which may cause them to lose part of their own warmth. If introduced into the tints of the flesh, or into the folds of silks and glossy draperies, which would reflect cool lights, the result is heaviness, and not transparency ; but the THE PROJECTED SHADOW. 11)7 Flemings were careful to keep their warm browns witliout the boundary of these light and delicate parts. CURSORY REMARKS ON THE PROJECTED SHADOW. At the time when perfection in the landscape was but a recent attainment, the ideas of painters, with regard to effect, seem to have been based, chiefly, on the progression of tints, namely, from dark to light, from strength to feebleness, as they recede into the subject. They had, perhaps, been struck with the beautiful result of Claude's aerial effects, and considered them a brilliant step in the art of landscape painting ; and although they did not follow, exactly, Claude's example, it doubtless appeared, that to pursue an opposite course, would be to recede in art. But, with its further progress, different views were gradually entertained, with regard to the means by which effect is produced. It was observed that, in nature, the greatest darks prevailed in those parts, over which deep shadows were projected, to a certain extent independently of situation : and, in con- sequence of these remarks, the greatest vigour of effect, instead of being concentrated invariably in the fore- ground, was distributed unequally and variously, ac- cording to the nature of tlic subject, and the ideas of the painter ; the chief sources of power being sometimes removed so far back as the middle planes, without injury to the apparent naturalness and truth of the com- position. Such effects as these, being, however, occa- sional rather tlian usual, in nature, they should be in- IQy RELATIONS Ol LIGHT AND SHADE. troduced with caution, and without detracting from that sharp and particularizing indication of the details, which is invariably a distinctive character of near objects. Notwithstanding, however, a successive emancipation from that thraldom which a partial knowledge, only, of the truths of nature, and of the means of art, formerly imposed, we frequently discover, in landscape paintings, a shadow, or belt of dark colour, thrown across the fore- ground, for the purpose of keeping back the more distant parts. But unless there be a cause, such as some building or tree, for producing so decided a shadow, this effect can be neither true nor desirable. The shadow of a cloud has not so decided nor so straight a boundary, as the shadows to which I allude ; and, though marked at a certain distance, it becomes very indistinct and dif- fused on a near point. The influence of a passing cloud, may separate one tree from another, or a gi'oup of figures from another group, but it would not throw one figure into sunshine, and another into shade, belonging to the same group ; and the improbability of these ac- cidents of light and shade, in the immediate foreground, causes them to appear afifected in this part of the picture. Make a choice of nature ; then take her as she appears ; and so decided a departure from truth, as the introduction of a belt of dark shade across the fore- ground, for the seeming purpose of affording a sub- stantial groundwork to the composition, may be done away with. In the landscape, the shadows of objects form part of the living scene. Any deficiency or failing in the ren- dering of them, would cause an immediate falling off of SHADOWS IN THE FIGUKE. 199 its interest and character of truth. It therefore be- comes a matter of consistency, that such important ac- cessaries should be always made dependent on their cause, and conformable, as far as it is possible, to the forms and distribution of the objects which occasion them. SHADOWS IN THE FIGURE. In the historical painting, the case is different. Beauty of form, action, expression, and colouring, have there so influential and leading a part in the composition, that the observance of the exact relations of the shadows with the objects which project them, is seldom necessary ; and, indeed, the variety and brilliancy of the colours used in the draperies and other parts, so far exhausts the means afforded by the artificial range of colours, that it would be impossible to maintain, in every case, an exact account of the projected shadows, and of their influence on materials of such diversified hues. Now and then, the marked and correct form of the shadow of an arm or foot, on a neighbouring object, may serve to give projection to the limb ; but, generally speaking, the crossing of definite shadows with the outlines of positive form, would, in groups of figures, have a disagreeable and confused effect ; and the light best suited to such subjects, is that which does not project a definite shadow, but, like the light of a window, or of a luminous sky without sunshine, produces diffused and graduated shadows. At a certain period of art, named, I believe, the 200 RELATIONS OF LIGHT AND SHADK. " Caravaggesque," tlie opposition of opaque dark with staring white colours, appears to have been mistaken for a means of obtaining the relief of nature. By this use of uniform dark colour, the lights were thrown beyond every scale of harmony. This will become evident to every one who compares the paintings of this school with the chiaro-scuro of the Flemish painters. These artists produced transparency and depth, by maintaining broad middle tints, and by limiting the deepest shadows to small recesses and other dark points. This is how nature presents herself, whenever there is a tranquil effect of light, or such as is best suited for the figure. The prevailing tints of the background ai"e semi-shade, whilst, here and there, darker shadows, perhaps a point or two of the deepest black, give the character of locality to the semi-tints, and an appearance of penetrability to the picture. By the observance of progression in the shades, and by economy in the use of the darkest, is maintained that apparent depth, which makes the limbs of the figures appearto move in ambient air, instead of adhering to a darkened wall. When every local dark is absorbed by the blackness of the ground tint, it is impossible to give to a subject, that point and spirit which sometimes depend upon the insertion of mere black touches for the eyes, or, it may be, of black hair, or of black velvet. I have frequently remarked, that semi-shades, well defined, and distinct, both from the prominent lights, and from the deep shadows, have something which is very pleasing and advantageous to the picture. In some of Titian's larger paintings, the tints of the flesh are, in SHADOWS IN THE FIGURE. 201 great part, kept in the subdued tone of projected shadow ; which gives them a delicate transparency, and throws out, most pleasingly, those portions of the limbs or head, which receive the full light. As an example may be given an effect in the painting of the Assumption, by Titian, in the Accademia at Venice. The light partly falls on the infant angels, whilst the other parts of these little figures have the warm transparent colouinng of half shadow. A similar principle of effect enhances the glow of light which falls on one of the Putini, and other figures, in the picture of the Virgin, by x\lbano, in the Accademia at Bologna. Various paintings, in these galleries, show the superiority of contrasts of colour, and of light and shade, introduced by means of projected and accidental shadows, over those which depend on the local colour of the objects only. In the picture of the Meeting of Jacob and Esau, by Pietro da Cortona, in the gallery of the Louvre, the prevalence of transparent shade, in the figures, adds greatly to its pleasing effect. IlaffacUe has produced one or two remarkable ex- amples of an opposite principle of light and shade. For instance, in his St. John, in the Tribuna of Florence, a uniforndy dark background serves to show off the ex- pression of the features, and the pure correctness of the design : whereas, in the Fornarina, a companion picture, a dark warm ground-tint has enabled Raffaelle to give substance, without heaviness, to the features ; main- taining, at the same time, a purity and a firmness of outline, which, in the paintings of this master, are fre- (piently associated with the most graceful forms. In a small and beautiful ])icture of Rembrandt, in 202 PllOPERTlES OF LIGHT. the collection of the Marquis of Westminster, repre- senting the Meeting of Mary and Elizabeth, the whole of the distance has been put in of a darkness approaching to pure Vandyke brown ; nevertheless, we do not per- ceive the want of that light opening which is generally so much required in the distance of a picture. The mass of darkness does not block up the scene ; but through it are perceived innumerable objects, in per- spective gradation, which appear to retire almost in the same manner as if they were thrown into distance by the haze and aerial colour of daylight. ON SOME OF THE PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. REFLEXES. A Distinction drmcn between Positive Light and Accidental Reflexes, on the Surfaces of Objects. — A portion of the light which falls upon bodies more or less rough, is decomposed before being reflected, and trans- mits to the eye, the colour and other characters of the body which reflects it ; whereas, another portion is thrown off" from the body on which it falls, undecom- posed, and in its primary state. This portion does not represent the colour of that body, but, rather, the an- terior condition of the light, or the colour which cha- racterized it as it sprung from its original source. The UEl'LEXES. ^203 light which is thus reverberated, preserving its original tint, and without conveying to the observer any informa- tion respecting the surface which throws it off, alone erives rise to those influences which are generallv com- prehended in the term Reflexes. Reflexes, or Reflections, is, thus, a term used in art to imply, indiscriminately, those flashes, as well as softer indications of light, which are unconnected with the local appearance of objects. This application is very comprehensive, since light may (according to the nature of the surface on which it falls) be reflected with all degrees of strength. The reflection may be due to a primarv light which falls upon an object directly, such as that of the sun, or of a lamp ; or it may result from a beam of secondary light, that is to say, which has already been once reflected from a different object. By reflexes, are perhaps most usually implied, in the terminology of art, the secondary lights of reflection, or those which are borrowed from objects which are themselves illuminated directly from the principal source of light. Such is, for instance, the diff'used light which is derived from the clouds, from objects in sunshine, or from bodies which, at night, are directly illuminated by a lamp or torch. These distinctions, however, are not permanent, because the conditions of light to which they apply, are liable to constant changes : as, for instance, the reflexes from the sky, which are but secondary lights, contrasted with sunshine, become the principal or primary lights, when the sun is hidden by a cloud ; or when the object, instead of being left in the open air, is removed to the interior of a room, where, from the want of sunshine, '204 PKOPEKTIES Ol' LIGHT. the light refloctetl from the sky becomes the first or primary light. In the same manner, in scenes which are lighted from various sources simultaneously, the ac- cidental reflexes may become positive lights by the con- cealment or removal of some of the generating causes, leaving one primary light to prevail uninfluenced. These facts I allude to, less for the sake of definition, than with the design of rendering more easily understood the dis- tinction between accidental reflexes and positive light. The influence which the reflected lights have, in the scene of nature, is not, in general, sufficiently attended to. Polished bodies, or those which are decidedly smooth, are made, it is true, to reflect more light than others ; but the various influences of reflected light, on surfaces having various degrees of roughness, or exposed unequally to its effects, are often but very imperfectly accounted for. In fact, the roughest bodies, as well as those which appear to be the most exposed to the in- fluence of a general and uniform light, are, to a certain extent,' subjected to the influence of partial reflections. Even rocks, and such materials as, from their coarseness, would appear to be uninfluenced by modifications of light, undergo a very visible change in their tints, when neighbouring objects become exposed to a powerful sunshine ; and with respect to the delicate forms and texture of the clouds, it is from reflection that their softest and most varied hues are derived. In paintings of the human figure, accidental re- flections have a very prominent and decided share in the appearance of the subject. The smooth surface, and delicate colour, of the flesh, become impressed with the REFLEXES. '205 slightest and tenderest reflected hues ; and the rich colours of adjacent draperies frequently exercise (espe- cially if exposed to a strong light) a most powerful and decided influence on the tints of the skin : effects which, in paintings in general, are not to be seen rendered with the intensity with which nature presents them under given circumstances. The vivacity of the light which is reflected from the most polished parts, gives, especially, a degree of spirit and expression, which can never be realized by flat and dead colour. It is bv the varying brilliancy of the reflected light, that is marked the very unequal degree of polish of the diflPerent parts, such as the lips, the eye, the hair when even and glossy, or the extreme polish of the head bald with age.* The want of due attention to the reflected lights, is, perhaps, felt still more urgently, in the costume and draperies, than in the heads and members. There is an immense dif- ference in the manner and degree in which the light is reflected by textures of various kinds, from the soft woollen clothing, which absorbs the light nearly equally in every part, to the glossy silks and satins, in which the sharp quivering reflexes are intermingled with the dull positive colour of the parts in shade. All these are very well, and sometimes admirably, rendered, when the artist has made it his special style or object to represent * A German artist, whose studio I visited at Rome, (one of those severe followers of Overbeck, who appear to trace the true path of historical painting to the examples left by Perugino, and to the other rigid and dry productions of that early school,) deprecated the use of brilliant reflexes in painting, as being opposed to simplicity and grandeur, and as tending to divert the attention from the deeper interest which results from expression and sentiment. ^On PROPERTTES OF LIGHT. the characteristic nature of various textures and ma- terials in close scenes ; but, where other aims have been kept in view, in reference to the subject, the nature of the materials, especially of draperies, has been so imper- fectly represented, even by good painters, that the re- semblance of the imitation could not be traced to any substance in nature. This may be jjarticularly observed in the raw blue draperies of many of the old masters, in which the lights have the comparative brightness of silk, whereas the folds of the material are those of a more soft and downy substance. The eifects which depend on reflexes of various tints and intensities, are chiefly characteristic of interiors, such as cathedrals, halls, banquet-rooms, or those more humble subjects of cloister-cells and rustic kitchens, of which the Flemish artists have availed themselves for the faithful and spirited representation of materials and utensils of all kinds, with their characteristic polish, graining, texture, or varnishes. In scenes like these, but more especially in those which exhibit abundance of polished marbles and wood, such as the choirs of cathe- drals, the principle on which the effect of the scene chiefly depends, is entirely difl^erent to that which pre- vails in most out-of-door subjects. The most usual and prevalent effects, in the latter, are those which depend, either on the local colour of objects, or on the influence of positive lights ; whereas, in the effects characteristic of the choir, the cloister, or of the baronial hall, local colour becomes completely subservient to the glaring white lights and quivering reflexes which are emitted from the polished marbles and furniture, and which r^;^ -■^Pl'LK . h!i:rl 3 -jh. 1.ilh*;rp 'hji ■ 'jt-e- UEFLEXES. 207 sparkle, with still greater brilliancy, in every object of polished metal or crystal. In the figures, those light portions of the apparel which are not glossy, and do not throw off the flash of light, receive it, in modified hues, from the naves and windows ; whilst the more sober apparel, contrasts, in deep penetrable shadow, with the distinctness of form, and the sharpness of the colours, which prevail in the neighbouring glow. The annexed Plate may serve to distinguish a scene in which reflected lights prevail, from those in which local colour or posi- tive light predominates ; but it cannot be expected to render, without the assistance of colour, either the variety or the strength of the reflected lights. Distinction between Dejinite and Indefinite Re- flections. — Before entering into further particulars, I will endeavour to show the chief distinctions between the light which is thrown off from rough, and that which is reflected by polished, surfaces. It is known that rough as well as smooth bodies, reflect, alike, the light which falls upon them : the difference between the two, arises from the circumstance, that rough bodies reflect the rays of light diff'used, or scattered in various di- rections ; whereas, the surface of a polished body reflects all the rays in the same relative direction, and this represents an angle corresponding to that of incidence. To the indeterminate and scattered reflection of the rays, which takes place on rough bodies, may be traced the circumstance that no image is produced ; the colour only of neighbouring objects is made apparent in a greater or less degree ; whereas, in the reflection which '20S rUOPERTIES OF MGHT. takes place on polished bodies, a distinct image of sur- rounding objects is transmitted to the eye, owing to the undisturbed condition of the ravs of litrht which are there reflected. I have suggested, in my work entitled " Ele- ments of the Picturesque," that the kind of reflection, in which the rays of light are thrown off from the re- flecting surface, under the same condition as that in which they have reached it, producing a distinct image, should be termed definite reflection, in order to dis- tinguish it from the irregular and indeterminate re- flection which takes place on rough bodies, and which I have proposed calling indejinite reflection. Effects of Reflected Light furtlier Developed. — When two bodies are placed contiguously, one of them of a brighter colour than the other, or more exposed to light, the one which is brightest in colour, or most luminous from its situation, throws upon the surface of the adjacent body, a tint or hue corresponding to its own, which becomes the more apparent, as the second body is more in the shade, or more colourless. When two neighbouring surfaces are equally exposed to the light, that which they reflect upon one another is over- come by the superior strength of the primitive light, and is little perceptible. The effects of reciprocal reflection become, however, sometimes apparent in the hollow folds of draperies, producing a depth and richness of tint, which would not be anticipated ft-om the apparent colour of the material when exposed to white light. Colourless surfaces, such as grey and white, are most sensible to the influence of any reflected tint. The hues REFLEXES. 209 which appear reflected on rough surfaces, are the more concentrated and intense, in proportion as the object reflecting them is nearer ; and become progi-essively more faint, and, at the same time, more extended, by the removal of the object producing the reflection, to a greater distance. Coloured light, reflected on a dififerently coloured body, has an effect similar to that which results from the mechanical mixture of the two colours : thus, yellow light thrown upon red, produces orange ; yellow light upon blue, green ; and red light upon blue, purple. Coloured light which is reflected from an object on another of the same colour, adds to the apparent depth and purity of its hue : the blue ground gains lustre by the proximity of a blue object more illuminated ; and the red or yellow receive additional glow from objects shining with these colours. Compound colours are much more sensible to those reflexes which partake, more or less, of one of the colours of the compound, than to those which contain none : as, for instance, an orange surface, which is very alive to red and yellow reflexes, is very little sensible to the blue ; whilst the green admits either the blue or vellow reflexes, but remains indifferent to tlic red. A similar inclination shows itself in the pink, and purple, either for the blue or the red, when reflected upon it ; though, in this instance, the yellow light, owing to its great brilliancy, is not absorbed. The coarser and impurer colours, such as the brown, drab, and others, shine, likewise, with reflected light, and appear modified in accordance with the combination which the reflected light would na- P 210 PROPERTIES OF LIGHT, turally make with their own colour. Even the black, as produced by artificial means, is not insensible to re- flected tints. Under ordinary circumstances, coloured reflexes, as before said, are most apparent on those surfaces which are nearest to the objects which produce the coloured light ; but, when foreign objects intervene, and form an impediment to the free passage of the rays in all di- rections, the relations of the reflected light to the object producing it, give rise to peculiar effects, which are modified by circumstances. Let us take the case of a window admitting the light from without. The external objects or media producing the light, arc, a blue sky above, and, beneath, green trees or verdure in sunshine. The valance within, gives a downward direction to the rays which proceed from the blue sky ; and, at the same time, a low blind prevents the rays which proceed from the bright verdure from extending very far downwards, and gives them chiefly an upward direction. Thus, the position of the blue, and of the green light, in the apartment, becomes inverted ; the ceiling Avould receive a greenish hue, and the lower part of the walls, and the floor, a blue tint, with varying intensities, as marked in the diagram. A similar distribution of external objects, horizontally, will produce corresponding results in the room, in that direction. It sometimes occurs, that the sun falls upon one half of a curtain, or that which hangs on one side of the window, — we will suppose it to be the right-hand side. Now, if the left-hand curtain prevents the blue light of the atmosphere from penetrating freely into the room, and directs it towards that side on which •S[tBA3a(l UD3JJ) ■P'^'^iK 212 PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. hangs tlie curtain lighted by the sun's direct rays, its bright azure light will prevail, in that part of the room, over the yellow, or otherwise warm, light of the curtain ; whereas, at the opposite end of the room, the blue light of the sky being intercepted by the left-hand curtain, or that which is in the shade, the yellow light of the curtain in sunshine there predominates. Thus, the situation of the lights reflected into the room, is exactly contrary to that of the sources whence they proceed. These passages of reflected lights are generally progressive and gradual : but if, under these circumstances, any object intervene, so as to produce a shadow, the transition from the blue shadow of the sky to the warm shadow of the object illuminated by the sun, is sudden and intense. A dark colourless shadow generally intervenes between the two coloured ones, as the surface on which it is pro- jected, partakes there, neither of the blue light of the atmosphere, nor of the warm light of the object in sun- shine. These eflPects sometimes occur, produced by natural causes, in a picturesque and striking manner, frequently varied by the folds of the drapery, which catch certain reflections more than others, and diversi- fied by other accidental circumstances : and the effects of reflected lights can scarcely be expected to be mas- tered, in all their variety, unless such results as these are observed and studied from nature, when they are accidentally or designedly produced. The foregoing remarks are entirely referable to surfaces without polish or glazing : they become im- pregnated as it were with the tints and hues which neighbouring bright objects throw upon them, the more REFLEXES. 213 in proportion as their own colour is duller and less apparent. But the transition from these, to the polished surfaces which reflect light in a definite form, is not sudden, but f^radual. The conditions of the various substantial and solid bodies, present, in this respect, considerable analogy with the circumstances which are peculiar to water, from its ruffled and turbid state, in which the local colour of the water prevails entirely over the reflexes which are thrown off from its surface, to the gentle ripple, in which partly the colour of the water, partly the objective of the neighbouring shores and sky, appear ; and from this intermediate state, to that per- fectly even and mirror-like condition of the surface, in which every object is reflected with a perfect and definite image. Leonardo da Vinci, whose remarks arc frequently strikingly correct, though somewhat quaint, even in the language of the translator, gives a very good general idea of the modifications to which reflection is subjected, in connection with various natural objects. He says, "Those bodies, of all others, do best discover their natural colour, whose surfaces are the roughest and most uneven. This may be seen in cloth, linen, leaves of trees, and herbs that are furry, on which the light cannot gather in any quantity, and which, for that reason, being unable to receive the images of neighbouring objects, send their colours pure and unadulterated to the eye : hence these bodies are neither tinged with the blueness of the ambient air, nor discoloured with the redness of the setting sun, even when he paints the clouds and the whole horizon with his colour." ^\"ith regard to polished SI* PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. bodies, the same writer observes, " Of all surfaces, there is none whose genuine colour is harder to be discerned, than those which are bright and polished. This is observable in some herbs, and in the leaves of some trees, whose surfaces, being smooth and shining, assume that colour which the sun's reflex casts upon them, or at least that of the air which illumines them ; insomuch that, in those parts where these reflexes strike, the real colour is but little seen."* Few of the solid substantial bodies in nature arc sufiiciently polished, or extended, to reflect definite images of neighbouring objects ; but, by including those which have been subjected to manual labour, we may discover the property of reflection in all its different stages, as manifested by the roughest unwrought ma- terials, by the smooth walls or pavement, and by the highly polished articles used as furniture or ornament. When bodies have a certain degree of smoothness, with- out being polished, they reflect definite images in a very oblique direction only ; whereas, if looked down upon, that is to say, in a direction perpendicular to their surface, or nearly so, their own colour and texture appear to prevail, instead of the reflexes from neighbour- ing objects. An ordinary slate, or the leathern cover of a book, has, in general, just that degree of smoothness that you may perceive the reflection of a finger, or of any other object, in a very oblique direction, and no image at all in a vertical one. This may become every day apparent, by the extreme distinctness with which every * See Senex's translation of Da Vinci's " Treatise on Painting," 17:il, page 85. REFLEXES. 215 object is reflected in a direction nearly horizontal, on polished tables, and other articles which have received the varnish of the cabinet maker ; the grain of the wood disappearing, at the same time, almost entirely. It may be likewise observed that, in cathedrals and other build- ings, in which some windows are situated higher than others, the quantity of light which appears reflected by the pavement, depends, in a great measure, upon the situation of the window from whence it proceeds. It is, in general, the lowest window which occasions the brighest reflection on the level floor. The light which falls with equal intensity on diflferent parts of the circumference of a column, may appear to shine more when it is reflected from the edge or boundarv of the column, than when it is thrown off" fi'om the cen- tre : but I think that it should not be admitted as a rule, as is the case in some treatises, that the edge of the column should invariably be represented lighter than the parts adjoining, as being necessary to the appearance of rotundity, for this is, frequentlv, not the case, and must depend upon circumstances. Reflected Lights on Furniture, Household Uten- sils, Sfc. — The chief characteristic of definite reflection, with respect to those objects which do not present a suflicient extent of surface, or whose polish is not suf- ficiently perfect, to produce distinct images, is a flash, spark, or belt of light, varying in extent and form with the size and shape of the objects where these bright reflexes appear, and partly, also, with the position and extent of the primary light whence such reflexes are 2l6 PROPKRTIES OF LIGHT. derived. These brisk and dazzling reverberations of light, which are so particidarly characteristic of house- hold apparatus and decorations, appear also, more or less modified, on the leaves of trees, the coats of animals, or on objects which, from the abundance of moisture, are glazed, as it were, with a varnish of water. The bright light which appears on one side of every polished object of a round or cylindrical form, such as the legs of chairs and tables, gilded knobs, or earthen- ware vessels, is invariably the reflection of the strongest light of the locality where these objects are placed. When the object thus reflecting the principal light presents a flat surface, such as the blade of a knife, the top of a table, &c., the reflected light is of consider- able extent, but can only be seen when the reflecting surface is placed in a certain angle with respect to the observer, as well as to the opening whence the light comes : but when the object has a spherical shape, the principal light of reflection appears contracted in pro- portion as the object on which it shews itself is reduced in size ; it moves according to the position of the ob- server, and may be seen by him from any situation which does not exceed 180°, or a right line, from the point whence the light proceeds. It here becomes a thin touch of lig-ht on the edge of the rounded bodv. In the open air, the principal reflected light is broad and extended, even on circular objects. If the sky be cloudy, or the objects otherwise in the shade, the ap- pearance of these reflexes becomes, at the same time, dull and heavy. When, however, the direct light of the sun falls upon polished objects, in the open air, the REFLEXES. 217 touches of light which are reflected here and there, obtain a degree of brilliancy to which art cannot ap- proach. In the room, where the light from the window becomes the primitive light, it outshines the reflection of any other object which may be in the room, even of a light colour. The interior of a polished vase or jar, has a second reflection, on the side opposite to that on which the first appears ; or, if two jars be placed near each other, the reflection of the one would be seen on the exterior of the other. The extent to which the furniture of a room is reflected on the surfaces of household utensils, &c., varies, of course, with the degree of polish of these apparatus. Those of metal have frequently so high a degree of polish, that the image of almost every object in sight may, with little attention, be detected in them. However, in that superficial kind of view which, from its being the most habitual, is the most expressive of general facts, little else is observed than the principal masses which are formed by the reflection of light and of dark objects. In most cases, the objects which are situated very near the reflecting surface, alone become very conspicuous ; so much so, that their reflections might be expected to be individually attended to in a finished and delicate work. Reflections of objects on convex surfaces, become most contracted or shortened, in the direction in which the convexity of the surface is greatest or most sudden, and more extended or lengthened, in the direction in which the convexity of the surface is least sudden or decided. This is, however, only relative ; for no images 218 PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. reflected on convex surfaces, can appear more extended than they would if reflected in a plane mirror similarly situated. The reflections which take place on the polished sides of concave objects, assume, owing to the multiplication of reflexes from side to side, such irregular and intricate shapes as would defy any rule of imitation. It frequently occurs, with regard to the reflected lights on furniture and other objects, that the second reflection is seen when the first is not ; as, for instance, the light which, from a window, falls upon the leg of a table, does not, in some cases, shine on the leg, but may be distinctly seen in the polished wood flooring, or glazed oilcloth, beneath it ; or the light which falls on the polished side of a box or chest of any kind, placed on the table, may occasionally be seen to shine, not on the box itself, but on the table. This takes place, be- cause the light which produces these bright reflexes, is thrown off in the far greater proportion, in the angle corresponding to that of incidence ; consequently, falling from the window upon a vertical surface situated below, it continues, after being thrown ofi^, to proceed in a downward direction, and cannot reach directly the eye of the observer: but any polished and level surface on which the object is standing, reflects the light again, upwards, and the eye of the observer catches it, more or less abundantly, according as his position is more or less suited for receivinjj the li^ht thus doublv reflected. There is a great difference in the appearance of the bright reflexes on various objects, in connection with their own colour. Some, such as most of the metals, show their native tint, even where they receive the REFLEXES. 219 greatest lustre fi'om strong and partial lights. Others, such as polished woods, glazed leathers and cloths, and even earthenware, give but a faint indication of their local colour in the lifjhts. A cool whitish liyht is thrown off from most of these glazed objects. It is, doubtless, to the decided and often deep colour, which most of the metals retain, even in the brightest reflexes, that are owing the fulness and splendour of their effects, in polished decorations and ornaments. The rich lustre of jewellery is, doubtless, owing to a similar cause ; whereas the light reflected by the polish of most manu- factured materials, has, relatively speaking, a dull and sober uniformity. Where the degree of polish is the same, the reflected lights appear much livelier on such objects as are of a dark colour than on light-coloured objects. This very circumstance Leonardo da Vinci refers to, as being due to contrast ; observing that " when the ground is darker than the reflex, the latter will appear strong and sensi- ble, the former serving as a foil to it : so where the reflex is found on a bright ground,* it must of course appear the more dim by reason of the whiteness sur- rounding it ; becoming, by this means, almost imper- ceptible." It is by a close attention to the characteristic appear- ances of the various materials in art and nature, both in the sharpest and brightest lights, and in the shadows. * Tlic Translator has put " on a ground hrighler than itself;" which can- not be, since the reflex, or reflected light, must always render any ground, however white, in some degree brighter than the parts over which the re- flected light does not extend. See Senex's translation of Da Vinci, p. 62. 220 PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. that their cliaracter and aspect are truly represented. It is necessary to observe the great difference which exists in the degree of susceptibility to light of various polished bodies, from the earthenware vessel, which re- flects little else than the principal light which falls upon it, to the polished brass utensil, and gilded orna- ment, in which the subordinate lights appear likewise reflected ; and to remark, also, the very unequal man- ner in which various smooth bodies decompose and modify the light which falls upon them ; how local colour is united chiefly to the shady side of the coarser materials, whereas the bright and polished metals show their native colour chiefly in the reflexes, the light be- coming, as it were, impregnated with their colour, before it is thrown off". TRANSMITTED LIGHT. With reference to Draperies, 4'C. — I will now con- sider the effects which are peculiar to transmitted light, chiefly with regard to colour. The light which is trans- mitted through substances, more or less transparent, contributes greatly to diversify the effects in which it plays a part. With reference to these effects, it is necessary to distinguish the light which is seen directly through the substance or liquid, from that which is re- radiated, or thrown off upon some other object, after pass- ing through the transparent medium. The light which, after thus penetrating the transparent material, is thrown upon surfaces situated beyond, is deeply tinged with the TRANSMITTED LIGHT. 221 colour of the substance traversed, and, in general, is diffused in a manner similar to that in which the liifht is reflected from opaque coloured bodies on neighbour- ing surfaces. The coloured light which is thus pro- jected on objects which are deprived of it from other sources, has, frequently, a deep and rich hue in the immediate vicinity of the transparent material ; but it does not prevail with intensity at any considerable dis- tance, or take a definite form, excepting in the case of stained glass, upon which the direct rays of the sun fall, transferring the colours, and, to a certain extent, the figures impinged on the glass, to surfaces which are situated in a line with the direction of the light. The brilliancy and distinctness of the colours thus trans- mitted, is proportionate to the privation of light from other quarters. I next allude to the effect of seeing the light directly through translucid or semi-transparent substances, as when they are hung up before a window. A decided and sometimes remarkable difference appears in the colour of most silks, linens, and draperies of all kinds, according to whether the light is seen through them, or upon them. The greater part obtain a warmer and deeper hue, when seen as transparent materials. This is chiefly the case with those which are glazed, or of a close texture, though, at the same time, transparent. And, in some cases, the dyes of transparent materials greatly outshine in brilliancy the hues of any body colours. Hence the beautiful and unmatched eflbcts of transparencies, of coloured blinds, and especially of stained glass. 222 PROPERTIES OF LIGHT. The effects which arc characteristic of draperies, and other materials, suspended against the light, can be faithfully rendered in painting, only by a due atten- tion to those tints and colours which appear when the light is seen through the transparent material, with reference to those which prevail on the side on which the light falls ; that is to say, by observing the relations of the colours which chiefly prevail at the same time, under both conditions of light. For instance, with regard to opaque bodies, truth of imitation depends on the due relation of the tints on the shady side, with those which are on the side of the light ; and, in the same manner, with transparent materials, the natural effect depends upon the maintenance of the exact rela- tion between those parts where the object, (a curtain for instance, or any other drapery,) is seen as a trans- parent material, and those parts in which it is seen as an opaque body. Considerable difference may arise from the degree of closeness of the texture. If there be much space between the threads, the light passes through them without partaking much of the colour of the material. On this account, such thin materials seen in transparency, appear to have less colom* when the observer looks up at the light directly through them, than when the material is situated, as it were, less in the path of the light, or less directly between it and the observer ; for the light which falls on the reverse of these transparent materials, appears to colour them the more, when it is not seen through them as through a sieve, but when the immediate background is obscure. Thus, the changes which characterize the appearance TRANSMITTED LIGHT. {223 of materials when seen with transmitted light, varies with their texture, as well as with collateral circum- stances. Many acquire a richer and more brilliant hue ; whilst some lose part of their vivacity, and, espe- ciallv, the purity and freshness of colour which dis- tinguishes them when tliev are seen with the light upon them. Some of tliose which have but a faint tincture of red, such as the light pink and buff, acquire an additional blush or warmth, which is very striking if the folds of the material cause it to be doubled, so that the light be subjected to a more complete modi- fication in its passage through the material. Transmitted Light in Liquids — Many of the richest, as well as most delicate hues, which appear in nature, result from transmitted light. Hence are derived the glowing and vcllowish green of the under side of the leaves of trees in sunshine, and the peculiar reddish tints visible in the sky, and on luminous clouds, when dimmed by an intervening film of coarser vapour. Indeed, the most pleasing effects of the atmosphere may, in a great measure, be traced to this principle. In liquids, the influence due to transmitted light is still more obvious than elsewhere ; and the increased brilliancy of the local colour, is here a resvdt more constant than in the case of transparent draperies. The pleasing effects which result from the passage of light through water, may be observed especially, in the green and copper-coloured streams of mountainous districts. The white stones in the beds of torrents, and, sometimes, the foam which has been forced beneath the surface, reflect, in beautiful golden hues, the direct rays of the sun. The light which is reflected from 2$iJ4 TRANSPARENCY the bottom of glass vessels, becomes likewise tinged, both as it penetrates into the liquid which they contain, and as it is thrown out again ; and thus acquires a richness of colour, to which, the convergence of the rays of light, produced by the refracting powers of the glass, frequently gives an increased degree of brilliancy. Hence those sparkling effects and gilded lights of replenished cups and vessels, which, for the purposes of art, would require either to be rendered less familiar, or to be removed to those scenes of boorish mirth and rustic festivity, in which Teniers, Ostade, and Brouwer, displayed their talent in pourtraying character, and indulged in the inexhaustible droUerv of their humour. TRANSPARENCY IN PAINTING. The charm which transparency lends to a picture, is so evident, that the allusion to it is generally considered to involve encomium. The merit due to transparency may arise partly from the impression of penetrability and depth, where we know that there is none. But, as a deceptive principle, transparency is closely associated with relief; and the inferior merit of this quality, shows that it is not as a means of deception only, that the great advantages of transparency are felt. The impressions of space are always pleasing, even in nature. A distant prospect ever delights more than the barrier which sud- denly intercepts the view, however ornamental be its character ; and this faculty of retiring in thought into IN PAINTING. 225 remote parts, is particularly pleasing, when, at the same time that it is propitiated and encouraged by the artifices of the picture, all the other conditions are maintained, which constitute a whole, both as a subject and as a work of art. Relief loses, from the very opposite causes, part of the interest which it might otherwise claim. It is gene- rally obtained by some great effort ; and it is, therefore, very seldom, that the appearance of a marked and decided projection can be extended, alike, to all parts of the subject. A hand and arm, or a leg, come forward, whilst the other members or figures remain at a more sober distance ; and the picture loses that unity of effect which results from the equal and progressive vanishing of all the parts. Transparency, in painting, results chiefly from the trutliful rendering of the influence of atmosphere in the light and aerial parts, and of indis- tinctness in the recesses and shadows ; whilst, in the details, is maintained a kind of transparency which is peculiar to individual objects. A characteristic feature of transparency is, that it admits of lines crossing each other, without any ap- parent harshness or awkwardness in their distribution. The imagination follows, unchecked, the form beyond, at the same time that the eye is arrested by other forms which come before it. After what has been already stated, with regard to forms and the impressions which are immediately connected with them, I inav leave the reader to find out for himself, anv further clue to this harmless and harmonious meeting, in transparent sub- stances, of cross-lines, the clashing of which, under other circumstances, would suffice to ruffle any nerves, Q 226 TRANSPARENCY. susceptible in matters of art. Whenever lines inter- sect each other with sudden angles, without offending, whether it be in the waves of the sea, in the hollow thicket, or in the draperies which cover the limbs and body, there penetrability or transparency must prevail. Such lines could not otherwise meet, without jarring. Lightness is often regarded as analogous to ti'ans- parency, in the effects of the atmosphere, because it indicates but little disturbance of the prevailing colour, which is that of light. Light vapours, the more pale they are, the more transparent they appear, if they, by this means, come nearer to the luminous tone of the at- mosphere : but there are cases, in which the addition of light produces opacity ; for instance, when the ground behind is dark. Clouds, seen from above, or against a mountain, will appear the more transpai-ent, in pro- portion as the whiteness of the vapour appears tempered by the darkness of the hill or mountain situated behind. The transparency then increases as the colour of the distant object prevails tlie more ; and must be very great, when indications of form appear. There is this peculiar to the transparency which is connected with drapery, that it may exist quite inde- pendently of colour. It is one form influenced and acted upon by a different form; — the projection of the folds and creases of draperv, displaced and modified by the projection of the muscle. Hence the pleasing effect of the draperies, as so delicately expressed by the chisel of the Greeks; — soft and flexible, without colour, — light and transparent, in the native opaqueness of the marble. RELATIONS OF COLOURS. 227 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. RELATIONS OF COLOURS. The colours of nature present relations of two kinds. One kind of relation is that which is afforded by the colours of the prism. These colours, as seen in the rainbow, or in the artificial spectrum, strike us, from the intrinsic beauty of each separate colour, as well as from the perfect harmony and consonance of their ar- rangement. The other kind of relation is that which is afforded by the indefinite colours which characterize most objects in nature, and which are generally called broken tints or colours. The impressions of beauty resulting, either from the colours themselves, or from their association, are here less vivid and immediate, than those which are connected with the aspect of the primary colours, but they are more diversified. The charm which is connected with the prismatic colours, corresponds with that of simple and pure notes combined in harmony ; whereas, the relations of broken colours correspond with the indefinite modulations of the human voice, which accompany speech. The primary colours, like the primitive notes, please of themselves, or by their inmicdiate combinations ; the broken tints and colours afford pleasure chiefly by the expression of cha- racter, as do the broken sounds of speech by the ex- pression of ideas : and it is remarkable that this analogy, which Mr. Field has so ably developed in his ti-eatise on 228 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. Chromatics, shows itself still further in the combinations of sounds, and in those of colours : for it is chiefly in its modulations and inflections, and not in its primary notes, that sound combines with articulated syllables, to show itself with those new attributes which render it the channel of thought ; in the same manner as broken and indefinite colours chiefly associate with form, to realize those trains of various impressions, which are linked together bv reasoning, and eml)ellished by fancy. From that distribution of broken colours which de- pends upon the assemblage of objects of all kinds, results the harmony of nature, which I propose considering, before we concern ourselves with another kind of har- mony, more flattering to the eye, which is, generally speaking, required in a picture, and which may be termed harmony of effect. ON NATURAL HARMONY, Resulting from the usual Relations of Lights and Colours in Nature. In surveying nature with reference to the colours presented to our view, it will be found that some oppose each other, or contrast in a striking manner, whilst the transitions of others are effected by successive gradations. The contrast of the sky with the opaque masses under it, the opposite colours of buildings and vegetation, the passage of the colours of the flesh to those of drapery, the primitive colours of flowers, the distinct markings of HARMONY OF NATUIIE. 229 the animal creation, and, sometimes, the bright and di- versified reflections of polished surfaces, are examples of abrupt and decided distinctions ; whereas, we discover, in the passage from one kind of vegetation to another, in the softer colours of rocks and earth, in the blending of the hues of the sky, and in the tints of the countenance, as well as in the conformable dyes of well-adjusted draperies, thousands of instances of gentle and pro- gressive change. The most abrupt, as well as the most gentle of these transitions, are equally characteristic of nature, and tend equally to realize those results which render her aspect agreeable. However violent the distinctions of the an- tagonizing colours — however mild and gentle the rela- tions of others — all appear fit and becoming, because they are in their right place. The visible world is uni- formly revealed to us by the same definite signs, tlie dis- turbance of which would estrantre and disfifjure its simplest aspects. These relations, not only of the local colours of objects, but of the reflected lights, and induced shadows, which modify their appearance, being, there- fore, necessary to the true character of every object, whether we observe each individually, or in connectioi with others, constitute the Harmonv of Nature. This kind of harmony prevails as much in her habitual and most familiar appearances, as in her extraordinary effects. It is the necessary condition of things in their normal state, — of colours having their usual influence, — of lights and shades exercising their due and wonted action. It prevails throughout all nature, wheresoever the eflTocts appear to correspond naturally with their cause ; and it 230 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. appears deficient, only in certain effects, of seldom oc- currence, which caimot be accounted for by usual infer- ences. The appearance of each object which constitutes a part of natui'e, adapts itself to every condition of light, shade, or contrast, which a change of circumstances in- duces, and is, therefore, in general, in accordance and unison with every visible influence. But when any pe- culiar or unusual influence manifests itself in nature, the balance between cause and effect appears disturbed, and the degree of harmony requisite to the natural appear- ance of objects, is wanting. Owing to our acquired habit of ascribing to objects and efiiects, those characters which are most apparent, we are, in general, little willing to admit any results of contrast to be deceptions, but hold them to he bond fide realities, until they are proved to us to be otherwise. The increased darkness which usually surrounds a bright light, is a circumstance so familiar to us, that although the result of an illusion, we do not in general consider it to be such. At the same time it must be allowed, that the luminous atmosphere which frequently appears to surround a light shining in darkness, operates in opposition to the effect of contrast. There are, however, some circumstances in nature, which render us very sensible to the changes produced by contrast, in the appearances of objects. For in- stance, the brilliant reflection of the moon, on the ruffled surface of the sea, appears, frequently, to pro- duce the distinct image of a cone of shadow, extending from the horizon to the moon, which forms its apex, whilst its base corresponds with the breadth of the HARMONY OF NATURE. 231 reflection on the surface of the sea. The intensity, as likewise the extent, of the cone of shade, appears very unequal under different circumstances. The combined influence of the moon, and of its brilliant reflection on the sea, gives to the shadow of opposition, a pointed apex and a widened base, in conformity with the small di- ameter of the moon and the extent of its luminous reflection ; and renders this eflFcct of contrast striking and remarkable. Again, we are, generally speaking, unconscious of any darkening of the portion of the sky which surrounds the moon, when shining, at night, in its full brilliancy. When, however, the moon, in its first quarter, appears in the west, surrounded by twi- light, its crescent is accompanied by an apparent deep- ening of the surrounding blue. There must, therefore, be something peculiar in tbe appearance of the moon, at the hour of twilight, which does not apply in the conditions in which we usually behold it. What ap- pears most probable, is, that the radiance which usually surrounds the moon, when in its full brilliancy, by lesseninn; the suddenness of the transition from liffht to darkness, takes away the eflFcct of contrast ; whereas, the evening twilight, which deprives the moon of its usual radiance, admits the entire influence of opposi- tion. And, further, the obelisk on the ci-devant Place de la Concorde at Paris, has appeared, when lighted by lamps, at night, to be surrounded by a shadow ; but other buildings, lighted up in a similar way, do not usually give rise to this appearance : there must have been, therefore, something peculiar, in connection either with the monument, with the lights, or with the general 232 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING impression produced, which rendered a])parent the influence of contrast of this lighted object with the darkness of the surrounding space. Was the source of the light on the monument less perceived than is usually the case ? If so, the degree of light was at variance with the apparent cause ; and one cannot be surprised that the darkness of the surrounding space, should likewise present something unusual. The effect not being a customary one, would impress itself the more. I adopted the following method for testing the influence which would result, in an effect of this kind, from the concealment of the cause. During a dark night, two white square surfaces were placed upright, and at a corresponding distance, separated by an interval of a few feet. The light of a lamp closed at the back, was thrown upon one of the squares, whereas the other square was illuminated by open lamps. The concealment of the light from view, in the first case, by preventing its effect from being the result of a visible cause, might have been expected to render the surrounding darkness more intense. This appeared to be the case to a certain extent, though, perhaps, not so much as might have been anticipated ; a more decided difference being that resulting from a kind of haze which appeared to sur- round the open lamps, and which diffused a somewhat greyish tint over the surrounding space, rendering the shadows less transparent than in the neighbourhood of the lamp closed at the back. It is probable that if a white surface could be lighted up in so artful a manner that no suspicion would arise, in the mind of the oh- HARMONY OF NATURE. 233 server, as to the source of the light, a remarkable apparent deepening of the surrounding gloom might be produced. He would then view the white surface, and the adjacent darkness, in the manner of relations, and not as customary eifects. But our apprehension through sight is, in general, much more alive to the deceptions of art, than to the illusions of nature. How difficult it is to persuade ourselves that a statue of imitation marble is as beautiful as one of the genuine material, whenever the smallest chip broken off discovers to us the decep- tion ! And how readily is the impression which is con- veyed to us by a single scratch or jag, transferred to the entire object! In all impressions connected with sight, we judge, perhaps, more by what we have learned by experience, than by what we see before us. Nature very rarely appears to us unaccountable. If certain of her appear- ances are very remote and peculiar, we generally attri- bute to them an origin different from the real one, or discover in our fancy another kind of effect, until the true one becomes revealed, together with the cause of its peculiarity. We are frequently unable to explain by analogy, the eflfects which are connected with t' e atmosphere, and chiefly with the clouds ; consequently they often appear singular, and sometimes unnatural. This arises from the variety of unseen causes which are engaged in producing some of the tints which are peculiar to the atmosphere. Hence, a considerable degree of discrimination is required in the execution of atmospheric effects. But the greater certainty which we experience, both as to the true character of nearer 234 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. objects, and as to the influences to which they are sub- jected, causes them for the most part to foil into the ge- neral harmony of nature, and to present, at least, a fitting appearance, although they may differ in the degree of their attractiveness. In ornamental objects, especially in articles of furni- ture or dress, in which the choice of the colours is under the sway of fashion, there is scarcely any arrangement of these, to which the eye does not become reconciled by custom. If, however, colours, or even forms, should be employed, entirely different to those which are intro- duced in the rotations of taste, the result would appear preposterous, or, at least, most fanciful ; an effect which might be easily imagined, by supposing, as I think Alison has done, that in the same apartment were asso- ciated, a sky-blue carpeting and a green ceiling; the unsightliness of which would, in a great measure, depend upon the distribution of the colours of the apartment being in direct opposition to the order of nature. If we employ the most fanciful colours that can be imagined, for the designed purpose of subverting the cus- tomary appearance of the objects which surround us, it is not so much the distribution of the colours them- selves, which offends the eye ; but they become repul- sive, chiefly by the impressions of the absurd and ludi- crous which are associated with them, and by disturbing, with a bad and vulgar resemblance, the truthful image retained in our minds, of more pleasing objects. Another source of unsightliness arises when, by departing from every usual style in the decoration of an object, we cause it to resemble something of inferior value ; in which HARMONY OF NATURE. 235 case, it is rather the impression of inferiority which becomes connected with it, than the actual nature of the decoration itself, which causes it to fall in our esti- mation. Unless by connections of this kind, that is to say, by counterfeiting objects which arc coarse or vulgar, there arc scarcely any artificial combinations of colours, to which the eve cannot easily be accustomed. The impression of their being designed, soon reconciles the mind to the most unusual combinations. In fact all objects which are either useful or orna- mental, become, to a certain extent, identified with the general aspect of nature, under whose influence, colours appear right, in every possible diversity of combination and strength : and it may appear remarkable that, whereas, in the natural scene, we discover this perfect adaptation of every colour to its neighbour, making invariably the best of its situation, we find the imita- tion, in any work of art, to be attended with so much uncertainty and difficulty. Why should not the student, as far as colouring goes, fall into one of nature's effects, when he misses the other ? How often is he compelled to alter, and rc-alter, his first tints, before he can pro- duce something approaching to any one of these appear- ances ! That it is so difficult to render correctly the simplest of these, is a proof that every combination of colours, afforded by nature, has a tendency to adapt itself to our acquired impressions of propriety, which docs not exist in works of imitation ; and until the student is able to trace all that he beholds to its very principle, he fails to render nature, and frequently pro- duces but a mockery. I will, therefore, examine the 236 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. most essential conditions of that harmonious arrangement which is characteristic of nature's scenery, with a view to faciUtate representation, and to insure that precision in the results, which prepares the way to the highest attainments of ideal art. The influence of simultaneous contrasts of colour will be next considered, with refer- ence to this inquiry. SIMULTANEOUS CONTRASTS OF COLOUR. M. Chevreul observes, in his excellent treatise on simultaneous and successive contrasts of colours, that the reciprocal influence of two neighbouring colours on each other, causes them to appear different to what they would be without this influence;* and the general expose of his principles, tends to prove, that it is not possible for us to judge of the exact effect which would be pre- sented by any particular colour, if seen disconnectedly from all others. Mr. Field adopts a bolder and more comprehensive theory, by maintaining " that colours should be considered as relations, and that, if there were only one colour in the world, there would be no sense of colour at all."t If I understand rightlv the author's meaning, it does not imply that no colour has a property of its ovra, distinct from all others. For, if we deprive any colour, as much as possible, of the * " De la Loi du Contraste simultane des Couleurs." Par Mons. E. Chevreul, p. 190. Par. 325. t Field's " Chromatics ; or, the Analogy, Harmony, and Philosophy of Colours." Par. 59. SIMULTANEOUS CONTRASTS. 237 influence of contrast, it still conveys the distinct im- pression vvliich is peculiar to it. Green, for instance, placed upon white, or black, surrounded, in the first case, by all the rays of light combined, and, in the second case, by none, still appears green ; as, in the same way, any other distinct colour appears of that colour, under most of the circumstances that our inge- nuity might devise to produce an apparent change. The term " relation " seems to apply, not to the colour itself, which, in every example that can be furnished, is a fact, a result produced by a definite cause, but, rather, to our idea, which, without the relation of one colour with other colours, would be indefinite and con- fused. Whenever we see a colour, as on white paper, without the contrast of other colours, it is to the im- pression retained in our minds, of its relation to them, that is owing the definite idea which we connect with it ; and we can form no opinion of the kind of impres- sion we should experience, had we never seen it asso- ciated with other colours. Like form unrelated to any other forms, it would be meaningless. Taking M. Chevreul for mv guide, in the condu- sions which I have formed from personal observation, I will point out some of those influences of contrast of colour, which are most apparent, and consider what share they should have, in painting, amid the various other influences which are to be accounted for. M. Chevreul distinguishes contrasts of colour into simultaneous and successive effects. The latter, being those which take place in succession, and in consequence of an influence which has passed away, scarcely apply 238 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. to the art of painting. The various influences which are connected with simultaneous contrasts of colours, may be all traced to the following general law : — The presence of a bright or powerful colour induces, in its vicinity, or on neighbouring colours, the appearance of the colour which is complementary to itself. Thus, bright yellow, opposed to neutral tint or grey, imparts a purple or pinkish tint to the latter ; from the vicinity of red, the grey receives a greenish hue ; and from that of blue, an orange tint : whereas, if bright colours be contrasted with each other, the complementary one is superinduced, reciprocally, to each of the positive colours. If a neutral tint be placed between two primaries, that tint is acted upon differently, according to the nature of the primary which it adjoins. Thus, grey, between blue and red, becomes orange where it borders the blue, and of a greenish hue where it borders the red ; grey, between blue and yellow, becomes orange next the blue, and purple next the yellow ; if bordered on either side by red and yellow, the induced colours are purple next the yellow, and green next the red. If, instead of the grey, a primary colour be placed between two other primaries, a similar effect is super- induced to the positive colour, which becomes more or less modified. Thus, with red for a central colour, and blue and yellow for side colours, the red acquires an orange tint next the blue, and a reddish purple next the yellow, whereas its appearance is rendered dull in the centre. Corresponding results take place, by employing the other primaries, successively, for the central and side SIMULTANEOUS CONTRASTS. 239 colours. The principle is the same throughout, but the influence varies with the degree of brilliancy of the colours employed ; so that with a brilliant yellow, for instance, as a central colour, its reaction on the side colours predominates, and the influence of the latter on the yellow is very feeble. Bright colours seem, however, to lose their effect on the black, as the complementary colours do not there appear. Moreover, the foregoing results, although sulficiently constant to be subjected to general rules, are very variable as to the intensity of the impressions which they produce on the eye. The slight- est deceptive influence tends to increase, to diminish, or even to obliterate them. The results appear to be most decided, when the eye fixes itself on the colour opposite to that where the superinduced influence takes place ; and a motion of the coloured papers, (if these are used,) which tends to deceive the eye, renders the imagination at once more alive to the complementary colours which associate themselves with any given primary. With results apparently so variable as these, it would be impossible to assign the exact cases in painting, in which allowance should be made for the influences of contrast of colour ; but, at the same time, we may feel assured, that the artist possesses great advantages, who is familiar with them. The chief difficulty is, to be able to foretell, in the use w-hich is made of colours in painting, whether their mutual influence will exactlv correspond with tliat which they exercise over each other in the real subject, whether it be a model, draperies, or a landscape. The influence of the colours upon each other, in a picture, may suffice, of itself, for the true representation of the 240 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. effect of nature, or it may not suffice. This the artist finds out, by experience only ; and I must concur in the opinion, expressed by Mons. Chevreul, that the know- ledge of the usual effects of the reaction of colours, greatly assists him in detecting any insufficiency of such reaction in the colours of his painting. If, by mistake, he has modified his local colours with gradations of an opposite tendency to those which would result from the contrast of neio'hbourinfj ones, he knows how to correct his error ; and, instead of giving, for instance, to white linen a reddish tint, to make it harmonize with the adja- cent red draperies, he finds, perhaps, that by giving it a greenish hue, (the complementary colour of the red,) he succeeds more effectually, both as to harmony and nature ; or, perhaps, he finds that, in a case in which yellow and blue draperies are contiguous to each other, the effect is rendered more agreeable by deepening the blue, conform- ably to the influence of contrast, than by giving it a warmish tint in the parts bordering the yellow, with a view to produce harmony. But, as the reader must be aware, there are various influences besides those which result from the contrast of colour, which are to be accounted for in painting ; and amidst these different principles, a choice is made of those, the results of which satisfy the eye most completely, or seem most agreeable to the effects of nature. IN PAINTING. 241 HOW FAR THE HARMONY OF NATURE IS ATTAINABLE BY THE ART OF PAINTING. Having considered what arc the usual effects of the opposition of colours under given circumstances, we will endeavour to find out whether the ordinarj^ conditions of the picture require the adoption of other means, in order to obtain results which, to the eye, may appear to correspond to those of nature. It is evident that we are able to imitate, tint for tint, any particular effect resulting ft-om combinations of colours in nature, only so far as the conditions of the painting are the same ; and that, unless we can make sure that they are so, the truthfulness of the representation must remain uncer- tain. Now it is the destiny of art, that its productions should never be subjected to the same conditions of light, shade, and colour, as the subjects which are fur- nished by nature. I have shown, in the section on light and shade, that the transition from sunshine to shadow may be matched two or three times successively, by artificial gradations of colour. But although the artist who sets aside the most violent transitions of nature, may thus sometimes find it in his power to render her gradations in equal value, yet it should be remembered that one great difference must remain, namely, that white in the shade will always form his starting point, or the head of the scale, and not white in various degrees of sunshine. Moreover, colours 242 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING which arc equivalents for lights in the open air, would cease to be so in a room, where the diminution of light produces a general sinking of the tints, and a corre- sponding change in their relations. On the other hand, it should be borne in mind, that the passages from light to shade which appear simultaneously in any effect of nature, are not to be compared, as to their degree, with those successive changes which take place from noon to evening, or from sunshine to moonlight. These last transitions are, relatively speaking, immense. The bright torch, which, at night, illuminates every object that its light falls upon, but itself appears almost extinct when placed in sunshine, shows what an amount of diminution may take place in the quantity of light, before we are made aware of it by indistinctness of the objects. But the slow progression both of light and of darkness, in nature, as well as the gradual adaptation of the eye to every new condition of light, by the con- traction and the expansion of the pupil, render these changes little perceived : and, in a computation of this kind, we should take care not to mix up those important variations of light which take place in succession, with those which are simultaneously before us, and appre- ciable to the eye in one instant. The painter very rightly disregards effects which may be witnessed un- consciously, and takes account of those only which are apparent to the eye, and distinctly appreciated by every one. Let us, therefoi-e, limit the task of the artist who proposes to make a faithful imitation of nature, to the representation of appearances which take place simul- IN PAINTING. 243 taneously ; and, in order to give him a fair chance of success, let us suppose the effect selected by him to be one of moderate power, and the tints quiet and subdued. His object is to produce an exact transfer of the scene of nature, matching the lights with his brightest colours, and the semi-tints and shadows by colours darkened in various proportions with black ; but, in order to do this, it is necessary that the conditions of the picture be made to correspond exactly with those of the subject, or, at least, with some object contained in it, which may serve as a test, or term of comparison, for the remainder. But, in the first place, how can we satisfy ourselves that the light in which we have placed the picture exactly corre- sponds with any light, in the real scene, which we have fixed upon as a term of comparison for the rest ? If it be placed in the shade, it has reflected lights ; and what means have we for determining whether they correspond, in degree and tone, to those which fall upon the shadow side of objects in nature ? If it be placed in the sun, how can we regulate its obliquity with respect to the sun's rays, so that it be equally illumined with any given object? But, supposing that we were able to establish an exact conformity 'between the conditions of light in our picture, and those of any one given object, how could we be sure, with the eye for our only guide, that we should be able to match the innumerable gradations of tints and colours which are subjected to the unequal influences of distance, and to the fluctuations of light and shade ? The strong lights in nature, exercise a degree of reaction which the imitation lights of paint do not produce. A sketch taken from nature, with one layer of colour, may 244 PRINCIPLES Ol- COLOURING be made to appear true ; yet it may be painted over with a second layer, so as equally to appear true, although the tone of its colours bo greatly deepened. And again, are not the intended situations of pictures, and consequently their final and permanent conditions of light, very diffe- rent to those which prevail during their execution ? If the truthfulness of a picture were to depend on perfect similarity of shade and colour with any given scene, its character for excellence would suffer with every change of position to which it might be subjected. The moonlight, which science tells us to be 300,000 times less brilliant than sunshine, we find sometimes hung up by the side of an effect of daylight, and merely a shade darker, without its being suggested to us that either the one or the other is a departure from nature.* Both may appear correct and natural, if the colouring remind us of a scene by day, on the one hand, and of a moonlight effect, on the other. It is the characteristic appearance of the objects, and not their degree of darkness, which tells us that it is a moonlight. Every painting is thus based on principles more or * The relations above given of the light of the moon to that of the sun, are taken from Mrs. Somerville's " Connection of the Physical Sciences." According to a calculation, based on the difference between the quantity of the sun's light which is reflected to us by the small periphery of the moon, and that which is reflected by the entire surface of our own earth, .'57,000 designates in round numbers the difl'erence between the amount of light which we receive from the sun and that which we derive from the moon. In Mons. Bouger's " Traite d'Optique," the light absorbed by the moon is stated to be as 1 to 2 to the light reflected ; and with regard to the surface of the earth, the relation of the light absorbed to that which is reflected, is probably nearly the same. According to Dr. AVollastou's photometrical researches, the effulgence of the full moon is 801,072 times less than that of •the sun. See Mr. Hunt's " Poetry of Science," p. 98. IN PAINTING. 245 less remote from those which govern the suhjeet which it represents ; and every painter when he sets to work, takes up a position more or less independent of that nature which he professes to follow, adopting a key-tone which will serve as the basis of all his relations of colours. It is, therefore, with regard to general re- lations — to the impression given, taken as a whole, — and with heedlessness as regards minor points of identity, that nature can alone be represented by any of the usual processes of art. The best sketches in the open air, may please for a time by their graphic resemblance ; but the art of that country would be thought low indeed, which would fill its exhibitions with portraits painted from nature, colour for colour, tint for tint, and nothing more. It is the impression of nature with which the artist chiefly concerns himself. Provided he maintain this, and succeed in imparting it in full force to the beholder, it little matters what may be his peculiar views in the treatment of the subject. That artist succeeds best, who conveys the liveliest impression of objects in the most pleasing form. The tone may be improved, the tints varied ; new charms mav be substituted for those which nature never parts with. This, in my opinion, only successful way of representing nature, as seen through a beautifvintr mirror, far from beinjr detri- mental to the art, ensures that variety, those endless modulations of eff'ect, which answer to every taste, sym- pathy, and feeling. Imitation, unpolished and unre- fined, would narrow the limits of the art, and bring down taste and genius to a level with the meanest me- chanical processes. 246 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING It is the uncertainty that prevails, with regard to the attainment of truth in imitation, which enables the artist to command the sympathy of the most dissimilar tastes. Be it cheerfulness, softness, delicacy, or vigour, that is required, he can comply, without appearing to digress from that fidelity to nature, which these different styles equally recommend. Subordinate and imperfect means are substituted for those eflScient ones which art cannot possess ; and the mystery which, to the inexperienced, appears to envelope these operations, disguises an artifice, which, if easily discovered, would take away the charm of imitation, and lessen their estimation of the art. If, in a gallery of pictures, or exhibition, we set aside a certain number of paintings of which we most approve, we shall find, although we see nature in all, that in each, a distinct and peculiar method has been adopted for translating her effects ; and we might discover, that every artist, even though the character of the scenery be the same, has understood nature in a different manner, and has rated differently the privileges which art has a right to exercise in her imitations. Some of these will appear servile, others bold, others fanciful ; but our ideas of excellence will not so much result from the closeness of the resemblance, but will chiefly depend on the liveliness with which we are made to experience those impressions which naturally connect themselves with any particular subject. In every case, something more will he demanded of art, than the evidence of that imitative skill which is acquired by practice. IN PAINTING. 247 HARMONY OF NATURE ; Considered with reference to Practice in Painting. If, in connection with the above remarks, we reflect for a moment on the diversit}- of styles in painting by which nature may be interpreted, and consider the de- gree of satisfaction attendant on all, we may be willing to admit that the impression of the harmony which delights us in nature, is not the result of one system of imitation, but of an immense variety of systems, although, at the same time, the discomfort and uneasiness which attend our perusal of bad productions, show that there are certain conditions in imitation, the neglect of which causes nature to appear either falsified or greatly im- paired. These principles, the whole of which could scarcely be contained in an entire treatise, may be sum- marily expressed by " corresponding effects for corre- sponding causes," and are implied in a general manner by the term "consistency." Whatever be the expression of nature which is intended to be produced, whatever contrivance, artifice, or practical skill, be employed to realize this expression, it must be done so throughout, with a perfect and understood relation of one part of the subject to another, of one effect to another cff'ect, and of both to one common and prevailing cause. The neglect of this agreement of every part, or the want of skill to carry it out to its whole extent, is that which dis- tinguishes a bad work from a good one, — a picture 248 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING which is harmonious to the eye, from one which is re- pulsive and discordant. There is a vast number of paintings which scarcely aJBRord any traces of harmony based on a true principle of relation between the parts. Such paintings a prac- tised eye judges to be infinitely further from nature, than those which have a colouring, exaggerated, it is true, but founded on a principle of obedience to the universal laws which govern cause and effect. When this prin- ciple is scrupulously observed in a general manner, — when cause and effect are nicely balanced, — every stroke of the brush tells, and has its influence, as it were, in the whole scene. Suppose that you are representing a subject with groups of small figures. One of them may appear to want relief. You put in its shadow darker ; expecting that the contrast will add to the effect, and make the figure come out more. But you observe, perhaps, that instead of this, there is less effect than before ; you perceive that you have put in a black patch, and not a shadow. You then consider its relation with the other shadows, both local on the shady side of the figures, and projected by them on the ground ; and you observe, that all these shadows are paler in shade, or more feeble in tone, than the one you have put in. This suggests to vou the expedient of deepening these different sha- dows. The first shadow then no longer appears black paint without a meaning ; it begins to express some- thing : and when its relation to the different shadows is completed, due allowance being made for differences of situation and local colour, the desired result, of IN PAINTING. 249 figures coming out with a lively expression of relief and action, will be accomplished, and their effect in the picture will become animated and pleasing. We must not however suppose, that to i-ender the shadows everywhere of a depth proportionate to the decree of li<^ht, will sufBce in every case. Let us examine whether any other conditions have been neg- lected, which, in nature, would certainly not have been wanting. You may have thought it fit to darken the coat of a black horse, in order that it should come out better amongst other cattle. But, instead of coming out more, it will very likely have the appearance of a daub of black paint, flat, and without relief, until you have put in those touches of glimmering light which mark glossiness. All these lights, various in their hues, have their exact relation to the strength and direction of the shadows which were put in before, not less than to the breedin"- of the animal. Should there be no glitter in the sunbeam, less attention is given to these glossy reflections ; but the harmony of relations is maintained by strengthening the colours of the other cattle, each according to the positive markings of his coat, and to the relative strength of the local hues of various kinds of animals. Nature may thus be rendered by imitative art, with various degrees of power ; but in each successive stage of strength, the exact influence of every agent exercising an active part in the efi^ect, must be duly considered. We should never allow our- selves to be surprised that our imitation does not ap- proach so near to nature as we could wish, until we have faithfully iucjuired wliether anv of those conditions which 250 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING are inseparable from the existing circumstances of the scene, have been omitted. In the following ingenious remarks, Mr. Field ap- pears evidently to embrace the opinion that nature may be rendered as well by exaggerated as by subdued colours : " Too much of any colour in a painting, is in- variably reconciled to the eye, by the due introduction of its opposite or equivalent, whether in the way of compounding by glazing, or by contrast : in the first manner, with neutralizing and subdued effect ; in the last, with heightened effect and brilliancy : in the one case by overpowering the colour, in the other by over- powering the organ ; while in each, the equilibrium, or due subordination of colours, is restored." * Let us consider a case in which power of colouring is sought for. It is when that force of chiaro-scuro is aimed at, — that relief and aerial perspective which seem to give a picture the evidence of nature herself, — that a certain degree of daring must go haiid-in-hand with a profound knowledge of facts. If a glaring colour be put alone into a picture, without connection, without object, and without any apparent cause for its peculiar hue, it will appear false ; but when opposed by others of equal strength, it ceases to have an exaggerated appearance, and that balance of colour is re-established, upon which the harmony of nature depends. A dash of colour, re- presenting the effect of sunset on a building, may appear too brilliant, or too red : but increase the glow of the evening sky, and it will become reduced to its true * Field's " Chromatics," par. 60. IN PAINTING. 251 character. Perhaps it will be found impossible to give the glow of the sky a degree of brilliancy corresponding to the effect so strongly indicated on the building ; in which case, it may be concealed by some intervening object, and other means may be adopted to point out the nature of the effect in question. Care should be taken to give corresponding brilliancy to every object so situ- ated as to be exposed to the glow of sunset : at the same time, bright colours should be cautiously withheld from those parts, where, according to the distribution of the picture, the sun's rays could not reach ; for, as above remarked, the resemblance to nature depends less on the degree of colouring, than on the relation of every colour to the circumstances producing it. Where the sun's rays strike upon the building, put in the shadow which it would project on the adjoining walls. Let this shadow cease where the glow of the sun dies away ; and let the amount of reflected lights, combined with the local colour of each object, and with the influences of contrast, be observed in every part respectively. For instance, if the sky be clear and blue in the direction opposite to sunset, cold reflections will prevail. They will be stronger on smooth and wet objects, than on rough and dry ones. It is by well marking the charac- teristic appearances of objects, where the sun does not shine, that the effects which are due to its presence become distinct and satisfactory. Every incident, every feature put on by nature, declares the glow on the build- ing to be that of sunset ; and though we have substi- tuted colour for light, and perhaps departed considerably from the tints of nature, yet by the exact coincidence of 252 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURIKG every cause and effect, no other intention is suspected than that which is apparent, and the result appears in exact conformity with nature. If the scene be one in which the lights and shades play no part, but where the chief interest depends upon force of colouring, the local colours are exaggerated, and not the reflected lights. For instance, the scene repre- sents a weather-beaten forest, with mossy trunks and red sand-banks. The trunks of the trees are warm ; but to make them come out more forcibly upon the sky, paint them warmer still. They will, perhaps, look unnatural ; but add to the colouring of the sand-bank, to the freshness of the surrounding vegetation, in short, to the vivacity of every body colour, and to the rich transparency of the glazed ones. Harmony will now be, to a certain extent, re-established. But if the balance or equilibrium of the colours be still incomplete, mark carefully every other point susceptible of high colouring, and put in the most powerful colours of which the nature of the object is susceptible, exceeding rather what appears natural at the time, and trusting for the re- establishment of harmony and the balance of colours, to their simultaneous effect when all shall have been put in. In this manner great power of effect is obtained ; and if the reaction of every colour, not only upon those adjoining, but on colours separated by considerable intervals, be well studied, the whole may be made to appear natural, although each object taken separately would differ widely from nature. In the former ex- ample, the brilliancy of the lights, or of the reflected tints, was exaggerated ; in the present one, it is the IN PAINTING. ^53 local colour of the objects. Thus it is that hai'mony is obtained, less by softening and toning than by a truthful and spirited indication of character. If the nature of the soil, in the scene last described, were not clearly shown, the red would appear discordant with every thing around it ; but point out distinctly its sandy nature, and the red paint, far from appearing exag- gerated, will be perfectly in place, and complete the resemblance. Another picture is before me, somewhat advanced, but not finished. There is an object in it which looks like a tree. It appears dark and heavy. You can scarcely make out whether it be a tree or not ; and indeed, until you can in some degree trace its character, its genus at least, you cannot expect that it will grow either lighter in the picture, or more like a tree in nature : but point out distinctly that its darkness is owing to the colour of the spray or foliage, — show it to be a cedar or a yew, — and its blackness will not appear heavy, but the natural result of the characteristic tone of the foliage ; and the tree, though darker than everything else, if put in exact relation with other ob- jects, will appear in harmony with everything else. In the same manner, a rock, in paint, may appear too dark to the observer ; because, the nature of the rock not being indicated, he cannot account for its darkness : but give it the characteristics of slate or granite, in such a manner that it cannot easily be mis- taken, and its appearance will coincide perfectly with that of other objects, and suggest nothing but what is natural. That very dryness of the outline, and that 254 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING suddenness of the transitions, with which you have thought proper to mark the hard and stony nature of the material, will appear to lose their character of harsh- ness, in proportion as the imitation of the slate or granite becomes closer, and the distinction between the hardness of these rocks and the softer edges of other objects is increased. In cases where we find ourselves bound as to local colour, we must observe whether other means are not open to successful improvement, — whether our lights have sufficiently the appearance of lights, and whether they do not partake rather too much of the nature of paint. For instance, a tree, which we may see clearly is intended for an ash, appears much lighter than an ash would be. Its character is well described, and therefore we do not wish to change it into a tree of a lighter kind ; and perhaps it may not be convenient to do so. But we examine if there be any play of light upon its foliage ; and if we observe that, Avith the existing effect, there is nothing in the surrounding parts, or in the sky, to indicate that the light does fall upon the tree, we consider whether the over-brightness of the foliage mav not be rendered satisfactorily accountable by giving it more the appearance of being due to an effect of light ; and we immediately colour up, with light colours, such of the adjoining objects as, from their posi- tion, would be likely to share the light which we intend to throw upon the ash. We likewise make such altera- tions as we may think fit in the clouds, or in any other objects which would intercept the sun's rays from the tree. The shadows, and all other circumstances attendant on IN PAINTING. Q55 projected light, of course are not forgotten. Thus, that lightness of the foliage, which previously, from its appearing without a cause, was out of place — an error — an eyesore, — has now become nature, even though we may have added to its amount. Since the harmony of nature depends, in a great measure, on the characteristic expression of objects, those which are represented too lank and flaccid may be made to gain rotundity and plumpness, by adding to their softness, if, by so doing, the resemblance of the material becomes closer than before ; in the same manner that hard and brittle substances, too timorously painted, may be made to partake of that kind of softness which is inseparable from harmony in the relations of objects, by increased hardness and decision of their outline ; or that delicate objects, too faintly drawn, may be made to gain more delicacy by being strengthened. Hardness, soft- ness, and feebleness, become defects, only when they arc extended indiscriminately to every object in the scene ; but they are alike true to nature, when applied, respectively, to objects which are distinguished by such quahties. A picture painted on the principle of giving to every colour, whether exaggerated or subdued, a relation with other colours corresponding to that which it would obtain in the natural scene, carries with it at least the impress of nature. The most antagonizing colours, and those which in other circumstances would appear gaudy, may be introduced ; and yet, if the management be perfect, there will be neither crudity nor tawdriness. 256 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING The general tone of the picture will not appear to incline to the extremes either of warmth or of cold, but every colour, every hue, will appear balanced by another ; the key-tone will be neutral, and the prevail- ing harmony will be that of expression and character. A particular effect, a general glow, or a prevailing tone of colour, may be superadded to this harmony of nature. This will elsewhere be further considered. In pointing out, as far as my experience will allow, the means for attaining powerful colouring, it is not my intention to put forward a stylo as an example, and to depreciate those styles of painting which show less power of colouring, but make amends for its deficiency by other merits. Each has its distinct object. Those perfections Mhich depend on grace and delicacy, and tbe various other fruits of the imagination and taste, are seldom united in the same work with great force of chiaro-scuro and colour. The painter who exercises all his energies to obtain that powerful relief which almost equals the projection of nature, is compelled to desert the realms of fancy and poetry. The pursuit of graphic imitation and positive effect, does not easily associate itself with tbe mystery and indefinite images of a creative imagination. The aims are distinct and opposite, and the same mind cannot grapple with both at the same time. The poetical images of the fancy can only be expected to be realized with brilliant colouring and lively projection, so far as the difficulties of execu- tion are overcome without effort. That skill and prac- tice which can leave this part of the work to the hand, IN PAINTING. 257 and set the imagination free, are best calculated to accomplish works of art possessing these different kinds of excellence. Generally speaking, it may be more useful to point out a method for avoiding weak and insipid colouring, than for obtaining a high degree of strength. Two or three circumstances equally tend to produce feebleness of colouring ; namely, the whiteness of the ground tint on which the painter first starts his subject, the greater facility which is generally afforded of bringing out masses one before another in light colour than in dark, a natural distrust of powerful and heavy colours, and an inclina- tion to restore the harmony of a picture by lowering the obtruding colours rather than by adding stimulus to the feeble ones. A certain method is required in the execu- tion of a painting, for convenience sake. For instance ; it is found that by commencing with the sky the colours remain more clear and pure for that most delicate part, than if any other portion were painted in first ; also, the other objects, following the order of nature, from the most distant to the nearest, are drawn more conveniently after the sky has been put in, than before. But a sys- tematic method of this kind, though desirable in some respects, unfortunately leaves its influence when not wanted ; and that purity of the atmosphere, and light- ness of the distance, which form the charm of certain effects, are quite out of place in others. Unless it be intended to form a very distant and graduated perspec- tive, care should be taken not to paint the sky too light. By doing so, the distant and middle planes would be likely to become pale and weak. By painting, as cir- s 258 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. cumstances may suggest, the darker masses of colour first, there is less danger of the general tone of the picture becoming enfeebled by the influence of the light grey of the atmosphere. Although the purity which generally characterizes the tints of the sky, seems, in some measure, to justify its priority in the progress of the painting, nature is too varied in her effects to be imitated by one system only ; and although expediency may require the use of rule and method, a constant watch is kept by the vigilant performer, lest system should beget the evils of routine. Particular attention is required to the tints of the sky and water in various effects, and to the relative colour of the principal masses, in order to counteract this tendency to feebleness. Advancing and Retiring Properties of Colours. — ■ Before offering a few remarks on the relations of tone and colour of the leading objects in the landscape scene, I will call the attention of the reader to the advancing and retiring nature of colours themselves, considered independently of casual and accidental influences. If colours, isolated from all surrounding objects, be compared together, with a view to ascertain the relation of their advancing and retiring properties, the order of their recedence appears to be conformable to that of objects seen through a light and vaporous atmosphere ; the lightest and palest conveying the impression of the greatest distance, and the most heavy and powerful, of the most immediate proximity. With colours chosen accidentally, the white recedes most, or maintains a doubtful position compared with the very light blue; ADVANCING ORDER OF COLOURS. 259 next to these, come, in advancing order, light yellow, light green, pink, dark blue, dark green, red, and black. This comparison of the receding and advancing nature of colours, was made by viewing them, in an isolated manner, or in pairs, through one or two small holes in an intervening surface ; and its result seemed to prove that the mere brightness of a colour tends very little to make it advance, the bright yellow and light green appearing only one degree nearer than the light blue, whereas the pink, which contains so much of the tint of the atmosphere, advances before them. However, the example employed of the pink colour was heavy ; had it been of a lighter tint, it would probably have retired beyond the light green or the yellow. The orange, being a much more powerful colour than this last, took up a very different position, appearing to advance before the dark blue. The greater prominence, in the scene of nature, of the brilliant colours, (as for instance, of the bright yellow,) is probably due chiefly to their relation with other colours ; and when seen disconnectedly, the im- pression is chiefly that of lightness, and consequently of distance, where uniform light prevails most. Of the darker primaries, red and blue, the red comes foremost, which is conformable to the principles generally adopted concerning the advancing and retiring powers of colours ; but from the conclusions I have drawn, perhaps in rather a summary manner, and which I should like to see tested by further observations, it appears. to me that the prin- (ijjlcs usually adopted for the advancing and retiring powers of colours, ascribe the retiring qualities in a too 260 PRINCIPLKS OF COLOURING. exclusive manner to the blue colour, and that the accom- panying conditions of lightness are not taken in sufficient account. It is, doubtless, to the analogy which a portion of the colours presents with the tints of the sky and dis- tance, that they owe their retiring properties ; and this analogy or conformity depends scarcely less on lightness, than on the prevalence of the azure tint. It is true that lights are employed successfully in painting, to denote proximity, and to bring objects forward ; but it is prin- cipally because they give convexity to form. The light falls chiefly upon the projecting surfaces of objects ; and white colour necessarily advances when employed to counterfeit these lights. These bright touches of light become one of the most efficient means of bringing out small objects before each other. They represent those sparkling flashes of light which infuse so much life and spirit into the individual character of nearer objects. Generally speaking, the distant or proximate appear- ance of objects depends less upon their colour than upon other distinguishing characters, such as proportion, form, texture, and other properties of the substance. There is no tint peculiar to distance, which cannot be made to advance, by embodying it in some near object duly cha- racterized as such. Certain flowers are characterized by tints similar to those of distance, without appearing to retire from the observer more than others which have stronger colours ; and, with the exception of bright green, there is scai'cely a tint of the foreground, which might not be seen in the distance under some circum- stance or other ; but a complete change in their relations prevents their being recognised whenever they do appear ADVANCING ORDER OF COLOURS, 261 under these unusual circumstances. Nature not unfre- quently presents near and remote colours so much alike, as not to be distinguishable from each other until such indications as arc peculiar to near objects are discovered, and such marks alone establish their proximity. Black, compared with lighter colours, conveys decidedly the impression of nearness ; but, viewed by itself, its position seems to be less determinate than that of other colours, as it probably conveys alternately the impression of a receding cavity, and of a proximate black substance. The relations of progression and recedence between light and dark vary according to circumstances. At sunrise, the most luminous portion of the sky appears to retire most : at night, the bright disk of the moon seems to come forward in the deep blue vault. A white house, and the dark foliage of a tree, may appear equally to come out upon the middle-toned distance : an increase of light, and an increase of darkness, would alike add to their relief; but a sky even more luminous than the house would recede beyond it. If the light and dark parts of a picture be seen through small isolated apertures, so that all connexion with the subject will be lost, they will appear alternately near and remote ; for, as the impression changes, one of these positions suggests itself to the fancy in preference to the other. It appears, therefore, that the advancing and retiring nature of colours, should always be considered as subservient to the truthful and characteristic represen- tation of substance. In scones, such as interiors, from which the atmosphere is excluded, it may not be always necessarv to attend to the advancing and retiring powers 262 PRINCIPI>ES OF COLOURING of the colours. In costumes and drapery, the blue may be made to come out before the red, and tlie grey before the yellow, if tlic material be well characterized, and the other conditions of situation duly attended to, A picture by Vandyck, in tlic Louvre, representing two figures doing homage to the Virgin, affords a remarkable instance of a large mass of black drapery keeping its place in the foreground, bv tlie side of livelier colours. But where there is choice, it may be preferable, even in confined situations, to distribute the local colours of objects to a certain extent conformably to the aerial progression of nature at large, placing the warm colours before the cold ones, which are those of atmosphere, but making correct representation the chief means of relief. With regard fo the Relative Tone of Objects in the Landscape. — If the sunshine be general, objects come out in light or in dark indiscriminately, according to the relative lightness or darkness of their local colour. Be- ginning with the distance, a green slope in sunshine has a light colour, yet not so light but that the tint of a clear sky near the horizon would be lighter still ; consequently, though a bright object, it would come out in dark upon the sky behind. Groups of trees, or masses of foliage, although in sunshine, would again appear in obscure colour upon the green slope, the tone of their foliage being deeper than that of the grass ; and the objects in the foreground, with the exception of those of a light colour, would again come out in tone, from the want of the intervening luminous atmosphere which lightens the tints of the distant objects. But it some- IN LANDSCAPE PAINTING. 2G3 times occurs that the deep blue of the sky extends, modi- fied with grey, down to the horizon ; in which case, buildings, and even a road, should it appear in con- nection, come out in light upon the sky. If there be gleams of sunshine, the effects of light are more powerful in the distance than is the colour of the objects ; and those which are lighted up generally come out in light upon those which are not, inde- pendently of local colour ; whilst nearer objects, not il- lumined, appear dark upon the sunshine behind them. Sometimes objects in the foregi'ound, having a dark local colour, such as the trunks of trees, or the dingy roofs of cottages, will come out, although in sunshine, in an obscure tone of colour, even on a distance shadowed bv clouds. The intervening illumined atmosphere nearly equalizes the lights and the shadows, rendering the whole bright, compared with the deep tone of proximate objects, whose local colour, in sunshine, is thus more dark than distant shadow. It is seldom, however, that proxi- mate objects in sunshine come out in dark upon the more elevated part of the sky. If sufficiently lofty to approach the zenith, the deep blue which they there meet generally throws them out in light. The facts which, like the foregoing, are subjected to constant change, and less dependent than others on uniform principles of influence, are those which are mastered chiefly by practice ; whereas, the study of those more deejjly-rootcd causes whose influence is general, should not, as far as I am able to judge by experience, be inconsiderately mixed up with practical copying t'lom nature. That excellent tuition of the liand and eve ■204 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING which is afFordod hy painting in the open air, should not receive the slightest check from the desire to carry out theories, which, with the book of truth before one, cannot be required. In the exercise which the student meets with abroad, amidst picturesque scenery, the application of governing principles can, at most, be made in a very free and general manner. It is rather in the after comparison of works, made, respectively, under, different and peculiar circumstances, that he is enabled with great advantage to examine the nature of the principle which has the prevailing influence in each ; and it is especially with regard to the works of the close studio, where nature and sometimes good standards of art are wanting, to guide the eye and confirm the judgment, that the ad- vantages of a general knowledge of the principles which are most essential to the harmony of nature, are particu- larlv felt. But it must be admitted, that the painter who, at the onset of his work, proceeds with that cer- tainty and assurance which arises from the knowledge of the precise result of every step which he takes, finds out, as he advances towards its completion, that he is frequently obliged to take leave of the guide which is aflbrded by theory, and to trust entirely to a lively im- pression of the subject retained in his mind. In this delicate work of refinement, the knowledge of principles assists him only in detecting the causes of the errors which he may chance to fall into, and in enabling him more easily and speedily to correct them ; but it is no longer his guide, — it ceases to point out the path which he is to pursue. He must trust, further, to his im- IN LANDSCAPE PAINTING. Q65 pression of that which is beautiful and perfect. He must confide himself to his own taste ; that supreme, but fickle and variable tribunal, which judges every thing, but at the same time is subjected to the control of fashion, custom, and every influence which stirs up or sways the mind. As the guidance of rule and precept forsakes him, those productions of art on which his taste is founded lead the way, and the perfection of his own productions is involved in all that uncertainty which results from the choice of masters and examples, founded on preference, sympathy, or enthusiasm. The painter is here made to feel his human condition : the nearer he comes to perfection, the greater hazard and uncer- tainty involve its attainment. To study from nature freely, and with a view to general eflfects, affords the safest and most speedy means of dispelling the errors and delusions of routine. It disengages the mind as well as the hand, gives right, as well as new, ideas of colouring, and, above all, inspires assurance. The hand which once trembled to put in the most uinneaning colours, lest they should produce results different from those intended, now employs without restraint the brightest and the most powerful tints, which, far from interfering with each other, pro- duce that very harmony and agreement of the parts, the attainment of which was striven for in vain by lowering the lights and assimilating the colours. 26G ruiNciPLES of colouring. HARMONV OF EFFECT, OK ACCIDENTAL HARMONY. The practised student, who feels himself perfectly at home in representing the positive features of nature, and such as characterize her ordinary appearances, seeks for those of her effects which possess particular at- tractiveness. He studies those instances in which a warm and peculiar glow diffused over the scene, appears to superinduce a harmony more beautiful and more perfect than that which characterizes ordinary nature ; he avails himself of the hints which she affords, in her varied and most smiling moods ; he adopts them as the choicest models ; and the imagination, thus stimulated, strews the path of art with its liveliest flowers, and breathes the sweetest incense into her sanctuary. That kind of harmony which proceeds from the dif- fusion of a warm light over the scene, might be termed " accidental harmony," in contradistinction to that per- manent harmony of nature, through the prevalence of which we invariably derive similar impressions from si- milar results, and ever discover, in corresponding cases, the same external relations of things. Accidental har- mony is manifested in the transient effects of nature : it accompanies the glow of morning, and the fire of the setting sun ; or denotes that unusual warmth of the at- mosphere, which is perhaps too exclusively associated with a meridian climate ; and, in torchlight scenes, it results from the gradual spreading of the light from a HARMONY OF EFFECT. 267 central focus. The term " harmony of effect" might perhaps be found equally applicable ; for although effect generally results from opposition and contrast, and con- sequently, from transitions from light to shade, yet the prevalence of any luminous effect in one portion of a scene, generally diffuses its influence, by reflection, over the other. Effects, however, are but accidents in nature : and whether one expression or the other be employed in preference, it will be equally evident that something more is implied than that distribution and adaptation of the parts, which, under all circumstances, causes our admiration of the visible world ; and that there are certain of nature's adornments which the artist claims more particularly as his own. Doubtless, those peculiar merits of colouring which, in all periods, have dis- tinguished certain masters and certain schools, have been chiefly borrowed from those harmonious effects which decorate the primitive beauties of nature with additional loveliness. That unity of effect which in the picture goes hand in hand with unity of composition, renders almost neces- sary the adoption of a prevailing tint — a predominating hue — which is called the key-tone of the subject. This decided difference of colour isolates the picture from surrounding objects, and prevents the eye from being disturbed by them. In the paintings of the Venetian school, we admire a harmonious richness of the colours, giving the impression of yellow light on the prominent objects, and of transparent shadow in the darks and recesses. Tiie picture of the Pisani family, by Titian, '^68 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. in the Chiesa dei Frari at Venice, is one of the best specimens of that master, of a powerful colouring pro- duced by harmonious richness. In those beautiful works of the Flemish masters, especially of Rembrandt, where harmony itself seems to fix the gaze of the observer, the rich transparent browns seem to prevail over every other colour, and to leave very little to be done by the natural relations of tints. Elsewhere, as in Claude, it is the warmth of a vapoury atmosphere which blends all objects together. In Cuyp we have the glow, but not the haze ; still there is a common bond between all objects, — a bond which is closer than that which nature affords in ordinary circumstances, and which meets more readily our habitual impression of harmonious relation. Comparing, in the paintings of the Italian masters, richness of colouring with brilliancy, it has generally struck me that those pictures which possess richness of colouring are most pleasing and effective. If any decided colour prevailed, a warm yellow appeared to me preferable to any other key- tone. This gilded effect appears to be in itself pleasing ; and many paintings, which are indif- ferent with respect to form or composition, attract the eye agreeably, merely from its adoption as the prevailing hue.* The yellow tint predominates in the paintings of Nicolas Poussin ; and though there mav be a certain stiffness and uniformity in his compositions, it is seldom that his colouring does not please. The analogy which * Reynolds observes, in his notes on Du Fresnoy's " Art of Painting," that " the predominant colours of the picture ought to be of a warm mellow kind, red or yellow." — [Note xli.] HARMONY OF EFFECT. 269 we are inclined to discover between the yellow colour and light, may perhaps contribute to its pleasing effect. The predominance of the other primaries, such as red and blue, does not appear to be equally successful ; and the introduction of the secondary colours, or binary compounds, especially of pink or purple, for the toning of the picture, has, in most cases, a very disagreeable effect. A decided orange is scarcely ever met with. A prevailing green is, I think, generally disliked, although its abundance in landscape nature renders us, perhaps, less sensible to its disadvantages than to those of the other secondary colours. Those paintings possess great advantages, which, with a soft and harmonious key-tone, combine agree- able passages of livelier colours. A more complete knowledge of colours, and of their relations, is required, but effects much more lively are produced. A picture by Rubens, of Thomyris Queen of the Scythians, in the Louvre, is pleasing chieflv from the arrangement and harmony of the colours. The dresses of the queen and her attendants pass off from white to yellow and blue, which itself is relieved by the deep red of a hanging cur- tain, forming a background to the group. A little blue breaks the white in the centre of the picture, whilst a scarlet robe on the left seems to balance that colour on the right. Thus the combination and the opposition of colours, go here a great way, independently of the sub- ject, to form an agreeable whole. M'ith regard to colouring, the artist has great diffi- culties to contend with, resulting, if not from prejudice, at least from preconceived impressions. If, in rendering 270 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING. nature, he limits himself cither to the most faithful, or to the most prevalent modes of imitation, he runs the risk of not being noticed ; whereas, if he steps beyond, and endeavours to translate her by some means more forcible and expressive than those which are usually adopted, he is frequently condemned without being understood. Every one may be aware with what dif- ferent impressions he views the same paintings on dif- ferent occasions, whether before or after having seen other pictures, with the eyes and mind fresh for the perception of the most delicate indications of beauty, or satiated with the most brilliant eflfects of colouring. Un- pleasing associations likewise mix up their baneful in- fluence with those which arise from preconceived ideas of colouring ; and the individual who has frequently in his mind's eye any particular colour worn in dress, or used for mean purposes, at once connects it with the colours which he perceives in the picture ; and the associations formed, instead of being those of the aurora, or of sunset, will be, perhaps, those of pink ribands and gamboge. The copy of one of the many choice productions of the old masters, which the visitor to the gaWerf of Europe admires so much side by side with the original, because he discovers in it the very marks and features which characterize a work of both real and famed excel- lence, he is surprised to find, on his return, looked upon by his friends, who are unacquainted with the original, with the same sort of feeling as that with which they would regard a very dry production of a modern Italian or German artist. Thus it is, that the mere fact of being able to trace a production of art to an elevated HARMONY OF EFFECT. 271 and dignified origin, bestows upon it a degree of merit which it could never possess in the eyes of persons who arc ignorant of the source of those qualities by which it is distinguished. The painter who works for public aj)probation, can neither tell what preconceived impres- sions of excellence he may have to deal with, on the part of those to whom the merits of his work will be submitted, nor what construction various classes of indi- viduals may be led to put on his own productions by common-place associations. But these difficulties he must be prepared to encounter ; for the observer will seldom allow himself the opportunity of discovering the genuine merits of a picture, if the first sight of it chills or distrusts him : and the artist who has not attained the fortunate point of ruling public opinion, encounters the hard case of being compelled to afford some allurement to the eye, whilst, at the same time, he keeps the strictest watch lest he admit anything which prejudice, or exclusive views, might construe into defects. In the landscape, where the interest which is derived from the expression of the features, and from the grace- fulness of the human form, is wanting, it is generally admitted that colouring becomes one of the chief attrac- tions, and that to excel in this point is almost a sure stop to success. But, in the prevailing differences of <)j)inion as to the use of bright colours, some give a very wide construction to the adornments put on by nature ; whereas the followers of the classical masters banish, in their strict notions of purity, every thing that has a sem- blance of tawdriness, as tending to lower the character of landscape painting. 272 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING ARTIFICIAL COLOURING ; In connection ivitk the Supermdurdl in Composition. As, in the composition of a picture, we are made to experience that kind of interest which is connected with impressions of awe and terror, by the use of super- natural signs and images ; so, with regard to colours, the choice of those which arc most pleasing to the eye, and their distribution in agreeable series, become the source of a kind of pleasure which is not afforded by the usual appearances of nature. Sufficient occasion for outstepping her habitual effects is afforded by the fabulous descriptions of the ancient and modern poets, and even by sacred history ; and the uncertainty which involves imitation with regard to light and colourinof, as well as the occasional appearance in nature of extra- ordinary meteoric phenomena, render still more plausible the use of similar licenses and eccentricities of art. As far as the composition is destined to act on the imagina- tion, its strangest and most fantastic forms may possess a certain degree of elevation and dignity. But as a mere pretext for introducing colours flattering to the eye, and which afford but the sensual pleasure which is attached to prettiness, or the equally fleeting enjov- ment which belongs to novelty, such productions as these, however engaging they may be for a time, fall, in real merit, far below those which have for their aim the simple and bond fide rendering of the ordinary effects of nature ; and, in all cases, the slightest neglect IN CONNECTION WITH THE SUPERNATURAL. 273 of the rules of taste, or the least opportunity afforded for misconstruction, will convert the most poetical idea, or the most striking image, into the grossest absurdity. In effects having for their object a display of brilliant colours, great beauty generally results from their succes- sion in gradual and progressive order, and from their being perfectly blended as they pass into each other, producing delicate intermediate tints. It might be ex- pected that, where the absence of all material objects affords complete liberty as to the distribution and arrangement of colours, the natural order of the iris or rainbow would yield the greatest amount of beauty ; but this seems to result less from any particular order of succession of the primary colours, than from the introduction of some circumstance, in connection with their arrangement, which renders one order of succes- sion more probable, or more expressive of some idea derived from nature, than another. Thus, if the chief impression be that of the natural aurora, the order of succession would be, yellow, red, and blue, with inter- mediaries of orange, and pink or purple ; but if, in the fancy composition, some iridescent effect be had in view, the prismatic progression of colours, namely, red, yellow, and blue, with the intermediaries of orange and green, and the boundary tint of purple, will be pre- ferable. Even light blue, yellow, red, and purple, will form a very agreeable succession, if there be no warm light in the direction of the blue to prevent this arrange- ment from appearing a natural one. What the eye can- not suffer, is a dark primary, such as deep red or hhic, for a central belt of colour, with light side colours ; or, T 274 PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING an alternation of light and dark colours.* These pre- vent that impression of concavity which is always con- veyed by a gradation of colours from light to dark, and which realize those ideas of penetrability and space without which these combinations of colours would lose all their mystery, and become mere relations of pigments. Mr. Field remarks that the old masters, especially those of the Roman school, show, in their paintings, great deficiency in the knowledge of the natural arrange- ment of colours, inasmuch as they put the red nearest to light, instead of the yellow.t This last colour undoubtedly forms the most luminous portion of the spectrum ; but in the effects of sunrise or sunset, the gradations of tint are diversely modified. In a misty atmosphere, the red appears to prevail chiefly nearest the sun, although the sky may be more luminous elsewhere. There are cases in which the introduction, in large masses, of a colour almost uniform, but pleasing to the eye, has prepossessed the observer in favour of the picture in which it has been resorted to : the difficulty in an effect of this kind, is to render the appearance natural, and at the same time to modify the prevailing colour with delicate modulations of tint, in such a manner as to prevent sameness. * In this, as in many other instances, we are forcibly reminded of the very rcmarkal>le anah)gy which exists between the sister arts of painting and music. As the ear is pained by the indiscriminate use of major and minor intervals, or by a change of key, without modulation, so is the eye distressed bj- a sudden transition, from light to dark, or from one colour to another, without a blending or softening of tints. — Mrs. 11. T. + Field's " Chromatics," par. 34. IN CONNECTION WITH THE SUl'EUNATURAL. 275 In compositions which are based chiefly on a gradu- ated distribution of colours, the principal effect may be interrupted by some cause foreign to it, such as clouds and meteors ; and in such cases, the order of colours which has been adopted in the general effect, may be repeated with agreeable results, in the partial effects and ima becomes aware of thi^ direction of the descending plane, when the term of comparison which is afforded by a view of the natural horizon is wanting. Much of the (juickness and 352 LINEAR PEKSPECTIVE. certainty with which we are able to appreciate effects of this kind, is doubtless owing to our instinctive knowledge of the eye's level, or of the position of the natural horizon, even when concealed from view. Instances would other- wise abound in nature, in which the degree of ascent, or descent, of roads and slopes, could not be easily ascer- tained. Hereby is shewn the importance of a position of the observer's eve on a level with the horizon, in all pic- tures in which the appearance of a descent is introduced. The lines of a road which becomes steeper at a certain distance from the observer, converge much more rapidly than do those of a road which begins to have an equal degree of steepness from the point where the ob- server is situated ; which is owing to the circumstance that when he is stationed on the level part of a road, as is the small figure B, diagram 5, the plane of the other part of it, which descends rapidly, is nearly on a level with his eye, and appears, consequently, extremely fore- shortened, as is shewn by the very small angle which the inclined portion of the road from C to D presents to the eye of the observer at B. This rapid convergence, as I have already stated, does not occur when the observer is himself on the plane of the inclined road, as at the point C* Fig. 5. * The increased convergence of the lines of an inclined road relatively to the lines of a flat road, is proportionate to the greater proximitj' of the eye of the observer to the latter, in a direction perpendicular to its plane. DECLIVITIES. 353 One of the characteristics of a descent is, tliat the same angular inclination below the horizon includes greater distances than it docs on a level surface. The more rapid the descent, the further are removed the objects on which the eye would alight with the same inclination of the visual rav : so it happens that, when there is a sudden break or precipice, the eye passes all at once from objects comparatively near, to very distant ones ; and, when there is but a slight gradient, the point attained by the eye, below the horizon, is still consi- derably greater than it would be on a flat surface. Owing to this circumstance, a picture in which a descent has been represented, without raising the horizon, would commence much further off, that is to say, its ground- line would mark a point much more removed, than would be the case were the picture to represent a level scene : but as it is usual in such cases, to raise the horizon considerably, in order that a portion of fore- ground may be included as well as distant objects, the bottom or ground-line of the picture becomes much more depressed, relatively to the observer, when tlie land- scape is represented as seen from a loftv and com- manding situation, than when supposed to be seen on a level. In nature, the effect of this depression of the sight manifests itself in every particular. The stones show more of their top in proportion to their sides ; the weeds and herbs are seen as from above ; even a figure a little way removed, would show the crown of the hat. All these minutiaj and circumstantial facts contribute their quota to the truth and fac-simile likeness of the whole. A A 354 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE The want of a sufficient clue to the effect before us, often renders the appearance of nature deceptive ; and in bleak open places which afford no standard of com- parison, either the rapidity of a descent, or the steepness of an opposite acclivity, not unfrcquently appears greatly increased or diminished, until the nature of the spot can be surveyed from points which do not subject the observer to delusive influences. The apparent impracticability of the road which is before the traveller, is an occurrence by no means rare to him in a country possessing new features. Deceptions of this kind, which I have wit- nessed in every possible form, never struck me more than at a spot half way between Grasse and Castellanc, in the departement des Basses Alpes, in which a ser- pentine road, ascending a barren and treeless slope, appeared, in some places, perfectly vertical. Several circumstances combined to produce this illusion ; but it appeared to take place chiefly because the effect of per- spective inclination was added to that of the actual slope of the road, without being apparent, owing to the pe- culiar nature of the slope. The ascent of the road proved, afterwards, to be most gradual and uniform. THE KNOWLEDGE OF PERSPECTIVE WHICH IS REQUISITE IN THE PICTURE GALLERY. Perspective will be here considered chiefly as ap- plied to the examination of works of art, with a view to their more complete enjoyment. Truth of imitation, especially with regard to form, would be more uni- versally and more closely adhered to, if amateurs in APPLIED TO THE EXAMINATION OF PICTURES. 355 general were more experienced in applying whatever principles of perspective they may possess, to the in- spection of pictures. The developcmcnt of the talents and resources possessed by the artist, proceeds step by step with the tasteful disccnimcnt of the amateur. The more enlir, in the admirable picture of St. Peter and St. Paul, by Guido Reni, in the Pinacoteca of jNlilan. In the original painting, the adaptation of the proportions of the hand to those of life, by admitting of a convenient and at the same time natural distance for observation, has doubtless assisted the artist not a little in attaining a most brilliant mastery over the diffi- culties of foreshortening. Further particulars connected ivif/i the Ob- server's Stat/o/i. — I will here offer another remark or two, relative to the adaptation of the perspective of objects to the point of observation. If you were to take a picture two feet in width, and to draw a buildinof six inches in heio-ht, with its corner toward the observer, you would necessarily make the lines which mark the top of the building, very much in- clined to the right and left, that is to say, toward their respective points of distance. But again, take a picture three yards in width, and put in a build- ing, likewise six inches high, and not more, with its angle turned towards you. Would you, in this case, make the lines of the top equally inclined as before to the riirht and left, or less so ? A\'ould not a much less degree of inclination appear sufficient in the large picture, than in the small one ? And would not the reason of this bo, that as the large picture is seen further off, the angles of inclination of the two sides of the building are made to correspond with those of the same object when seen at a much greater distance in nature? Whereas, in the small picture, two feet wide. 362 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE placed proportionately near the eye, the six- inch building can represent nothing else than a very near object, and its lines must have that excessive convergence peculiar to objects which you look very much up to, that is to say, which subtend a lar^e an