With regard to the beauty of individual tints, it would be difficult to come to any very strict definition, as what is pleasing to one person, is not so to another; and particularly in reference to the use of colours in Art, for they then become so dependent upon the other tints by which they are surrounded, that they may be said to cease to have positive designations, and to become only comparative; and there is scarcely any tint, however disagreeable in itself, but may be made by Art to appear agreeable, if not beautiful. But the object of the present work being to collect the certain or decided principles of Art, for the benefit of those who desire to derive pleasure or amus.e.m.e.nt from it, the doubtful or questionable hypotheses will be left untouched, and those points only brought forward which are calculated to ensure success.

For this purpose, the amateur should avoid greenish blues and greenish yellows; they both appear sickly: and never place such a green between blue and yellow as would result from the mixture of the particular tints of those two colours which are made use of.

Both blue and yellow become agreeable as they incline to red. Red becomes rich as it inclines to blue, brilliant as it inclines to yellow. All shades and tones of purple or orange are agreeable; but of greens, those only which incline to yellow. Blueish greens require either to be very pale, as shown in Turner's first principle (_See Plate_), or moderated with black, so as almost to cease to be colours, and become tones. All shades and tints of the tertiary compounds are agreeable in their places; they receive value by the opposition of the colour which enters least into their composition, and become difficult to manage only when they approach full blueish green.

White and black give value to all colours and tones.

It may be necessary to make an observation upon the foregoing warning, and almost proscription, of the use of green in Art, as that colour is found to be exceedingly agreeable in Nature, and is used with success in manufactures, and for other general purposes. It is found to afford great relief to weak sight, and is abstractedly so much admired, that it appears singular and paradoxical to say, that green must be sparingly used in pictures, even in landscapes, whose greatest charm in nature consist of luxuriance of vegetation: but such is the case.

The general tone of a picture may be yellow, as in the works of Cuyp, Both, Ludovico Caracci (_see Plates_); red, as in the second principle of t.i.tian (_see Plate_); blue, as in the first principle of Turner (_see Plates_); grey or brown, as in the works of Ruysdael and the Dutch School (_see Plates_); but a green picture, however true to nature, instantly excites an universal outcry as being disagreeable; and if any of the modern school, to which we shall presently advert, have been for a moment tolerated, it has arisen from the previous great reputation of the artist, or for other merits in the work, and in _spite_ of its being a green picture.

The following hypothesis _may_ be the mode of accounting for this paradox, and, at the same time, _may_ throw some light upon another, which will be noticed; that although painting is an imitative art, imitation, to the extent of deception, does not const.i.tute its highest excellence.

The eye is excited by Colour, and the object of painting, independent of poetical expression or character, is to excite the eye agreeably.

But green is found to excite the eye _less_ than any other tint, (thereby affording some corroboration to the idea that, strictly speaking, its opposite red, is the only true _colour_,) not even excepting black; so that it acts as an opiate, and is used for counteracting the brightness of the sun, by means of parasols or gla.s.ses, and to guard weak eyes from the effects of light by means of silk shades.

It is thrown out as a suggestion that, in looking at a picture in which excitement to the degree of pleasure is _expected_, a disappointment _may_ arise from finding a prevalence of those tints which do not excite, except to a very slight extent, and that _thus_ a green picture _may_ occasion dissatisfaction. In looking at Nature we do not wish to be always excited, and green is admired or valued as affording repose; but in looking at a picture, the very object is excitement, within certain limits, which green has a tendency to destroy.

Certain tints of green become disagreeable in certain parts of pictures, from a.s.sociation of ideas. Green in flesh, excites the idea of corruption and decay. Green in skies, occasioned by blending the warm yellows of sunset with the blue, excite the impression of want of skill to prevent the one tint running into the other.

But in reservation it must be repeated, that there is no tint that cannot be controlled and made available, by great skill and management, to the purposes of Art. These warnings are for beginners and amateurs; and the work is intended to show them what they may do with safety; as they attain proficiency, they may attempt difficulties, which princ.i.p.ally reside in _truth_ of detail _in combination_ with agreeable general effect. When to this is added a just subservience to Poetical Character, the greatest requisitions of the Art have been complied with; all other difficulties, of whatever nature, being merely a species of mountebank trickery, beneath the aim of high Art, and deserving of the well-known sarcasm of Dr. Johnson upon some difficult music, that "he wished it were impossible."

CHAPTER III.

FINE COLOURING.

Having shown in the preceding chapters certain principles upon which Pictorial arrangements of Colours may be ensured, the attention of the reader must be directed to what other qualities are requisite to const.i.tute Fine Colouring.

Fine Colouring must not be confounded with Fine Colours. Some of the Finest Colourists have avoided Fine Colours, and Sir Joshua Reynolds adduces as a _proof_ that Apelles was a Fine Colourist, the statement by Pliny, that, "after he had finished his pictures, he pa.s.sed an _atramentum_, or blackness, over the whole of them."

Nor is truth of imitation sufficient of itself to const.i.tute Fine Colouring, though it always confers a value on a work of Art.

Fine Colouring, in the higher walks of Art, implies an adaptation of the general aspect or style of colouring to the expression and character of the subject; it then acquires the t.i.tle of Poetical Colouring, which is its highest commendation as a means of Art.

But, independent of subject, there are other abstract qualifications of Fine Colouring to be sought for, in the representation of objects.

It not only requires such an arrangement of tints and tones as shall produce an agreeable whole, but descends to minutiae, and demands that such tints and tones, shall be obtained by a degree of refinement or idealization, within probability, of the ordinary appearances of Nature, or by a selection of the greatest beauties she displays, and such a combination of them as shall contribute to convey the most pleasing impressions, and present _her_ under the most attractive aspect.

CHAPTER III.

SECTION I.

PRINCIPLES OF COLOURING OBJECTS.

Proceeding to consider Colouring independently of Character or Expression, to which it should be subservient in the higher walks of Art, the attention of the reader must be directed to a circ.u.mstance connected with truth of representation.

It has commonly been the practice, under the almost universal sanction of great authorities, to place the student who may be desirous of acquiring the Art of Painting, before some object, and to direct him to copy _what he sees_. But what does he see?

We need not go into the question of _how_ impressions are produced upon the mind, through the medium of the eye; whether a species of picture of the object be, during the inspection, as it were painted upon the retina; and whether that be inverted or anywise different from the real object; or whether, and to what extent, a.s.sociation rectifies the imperfections of our sight. These, and other investigations into the philosophical and physical nature of vision, may be left to the consideration of those who desire to account for particular facts; we have to do with the facts themselves.

In whatever manner the effect may be produced, it is indisputable, that a certain and distinct impression is produced upon the mind, through the medium of the eye, by every object which may be before it, and that impression has a strict relation to the real character of the object; for instance, a marble statue, it appears, or an impression is conveyed of, an object of one unvaried tint. How this impression is conveyed, is of no consequence; it is conveyed; and a series of tints may be artificially arranged upon paper (or any other convenient material), so as also, if not equally, to convey to the mind the impression of a marble statue of uniform whiteness. But upon examination of the drawing or painting, it would be seen, that scarcely any two parts of the _representation_ of the statue were of exactly the same tint. Some parts would be delicately graduated from a point of light, through a series of darker tints, to give the appearance of roundness; while others would be made nearly black by shadow, to give the appearance of projection. The present enquiry has reference solely to Colours, but the same difficulties occur with regard to forms.

Here there is a discrepancy, occasioned by a.s.sociation, which we shall scarcely find language to explain, but which will in most cases prove of serious perplexity to the student; for there are some other persons like Queen Elizabeth, who have no idea of shadow, unless it be the shadow of a parasol or tree, under which they may escape the intensity of a noon-day sun. The statue will appear, or an impression will be conveyed to the mind, of uniform whiteness. But pictorially speaking, one spot only, that which reflects the greatest light, will appear quite white. All the other parts will _appear_, that is, to convey the impression, they must be made, of an infinite variety of tints, from the brightest light to the deepest shadow. The statue _is_ actually uniformly white, and it appears uniformly white, yet the _appearance_ or representation which must be put upon paper, to convey an impression of that _appearance_ by drawing or painting, is totally opposite, being an infinite variety of tints.

But in a statue, by reason of its convexity, the second species of _appearance_, the Pictorial, is much more readily appreciated, from the strong opposition of light and shadow, than in a flat surface,--a ceiling, a pavement, or meadow, in which the perception of the modifications of colour, arising from what is termed aerial perspective, is considerably influenced, by the a.s.sociation above mentioned, until the eye has become educated to observe these minute and delicate gradations of tint. Thus, in looking at a meadow, we know the gra.s.s to be generally of the same colour throughout, and to an uneducated eye it _appears_ equally green from one end to the other: or the ceiling of a well lighted room, we know it to be of one colour throughout, and it _appears_ of one even tint from the nearest to the most distant extremity; yet pictorially speaking, it _appears_ of an infinite variety of tints, for the effect of the atmosphere is such as to rob the gra.s.s of its colour, and to make the white ceiling grey, as they recede from the eye.

It will scarcely be necessary to guard against misconception as to the use of the terms describing the effect of the atmosphere, by explaining that it is not intended to a.s.sert that an _actual change_ takes place, or that there is any _actual_ difference in the colour of those parts of objects which are at a distance from the eye; or, that the colour in the distance does not appear to be, as we know it is, the same with that nearest the eye; but that the effect of distance is the _pictorial appearance_ of a modification of tint, by the interposition of the atmosphere, perceptible only to an educated eye.

We know the gra.s.s to be equally green throughout, and it appears of the tints which convey that impression; while a.s.sociation conceals the modification occasioned by the interposition of the atmosphere (which the generality of observers consider as only "air," and of no consequence), and excites the notion that the meadow appears of one equal flat tint. But the distant extremity of the meadow is seen through more or less atmosphere, which is more or less dense; and in proportion to its density will the colour of the gra.s.s be _apparently_ altered or changed thereby; and in some instances, as in case of a fog, entirely concealed.

In looking at any object through a perfectly transparent medium, such as plate gla.s.s, we do not perceive any alteration in the real colours.

But when the medium is not perfectly transparent, which is the case with the atmosphere, the colours of all objects seen through it are modified or tinged in proportion to its density, until they are sometimes lost or absorbed in the tint of the medium.

The slightest possible colourless opacity gives a medium approaching to a whitish film, which is very evident when there is light behind it; as in the case of the beams of the moon. This is the clearest state of the atmosphere. As it increases in density, it becomes more and more white, until it becomes a white mist, fog or cloud. The atmosphere is sometimes coloured, as will hereafter be mentioned; at present we have to do with its colourless state.

The opacity of the atmosphere, as a white film over the darkness of s.p.a.ce, occasions the blue appearance of the sky; and in proportion to the rarity or density of the medium, is the intensity of colour, or rather depth of tone. If the atmosphere be extremely rare, as in the Polar regions, or at the height of Mont Blanc, the sky appears almost black. And if the atmosphere be thick with vapour, the sky a.s.sumes a milky colour, and the blue tint is lost in that of the medium. When the atmosphere is just so rare as to be scarcely perceptible in its influence upon terrestrial objects,--as in Italy, or the eastern climes, where the most distant buildings appear diminished in size, but almost as distinct as those close to the spectator,--yet sufficiently dense to become a veil to the expanse of s.p.a.ce, the colour of the sky appears the most intense blue. As near as we can superficially ascertain it,--in the exact medium between such rarity of atmosphere as would afford blackness, and such opacity as would afford whiteness,--we may expect to find the most intensely blue colour in the sky.

As the effect of this colourless opacity of the atmosphere is, to render the appearance of the _darkness of s.p.a.ce_ a blue colour, so all dark terrestrial objects are similarly affected by the intervening of this medium, and, in a corresponding degree, become more or less blue.

The dark mountains in Wales and Scotland appear of a deep blue, sometimes verging upon purple; and a slight comparison between the colour of the trees close to the spectator and those in the distance, will show how much more blue the latter become, from the influence of the medium through which they are viewed.

And as objects, in proportion to their distance, are more or less affected by the interposition of the atmosphere, so, also, do the parts of the individual objects themselves, become more or less grey as they recede. The boundaries of a white object are less white, and of a black object less black, than the parts nearest the eye. A tree is most green at the prominent parts, and greyer at the top and sides.

This truth is so decidedly felt by the public in general--though perhaps insensibly appreciated and but tacitly acknowledged,--that, as the atmosphere reduces the colours of all objects to a blue tint, so all blue colours convey an impression of distance, and all tints approaching to blue are accordingly designated _retiring colours_.

But the atmosphere is not always colourless. The rays of the sun tinge it with yellow. The rays from a fire or candle tinge it with a colour approaching to red. The combination of smoke tinges it with black or brown; and fogs infuse various degrees of dingy yellow. All these variations affect the colours of the objects seen through the atmosphere, and modify the degree of blue, or quality of grey, tint communicated thereby.

When the atmosphere is coloured by the light of the sun, the blue is modified, more or less, into a warm grey. But owing to the brilliancy resulting from the blaze of light, the tints remain of the utmost purity. All tendency to green is kept in subordination by the pearly tints of those parts which are in shadow. The atmosphere is rendered more dense at the same time that it is coloured by the light of the sun; but the light parts of the objects seen through it are rendered, by the same cause, so much more brilliant, that the density of the medium is partially compensated; while its full effect is apparent upon the shadows seen through it, over which a bright haze diffuses a beautiful blue tint, slightly warmed by the golden colour of the illuminating power. The contrast of the yellow tinge in the lights makes these shadows appear to incline to purple; and at sunset and sunrise, when by the greater quant.i.ty of the medium, rendered more dense by the aqueous vapours close to the earth, the colour of the sun's light is enriched to a deep golden hue approaching orange and red, the shadows a.s.sume a decidedly purple tint, of which the blue is supplied by the density, and the red by the colour, of the medium. As the light of the sun decreases, the colour of the atmosphere is more evidently tinged with red, until the sun has sunk so far below the horizon, that the shadows of night incorporating with the colour of the vapours, render them a dull grey, sometimes approaching a brown.

In proportion as the atmosphere is illumined does it also become opaque. The sky close to the sun appears much less blue than on the opposite side of the heavens. The beams of the sun, or moon, or even the rays of a candle, become so opaque, as absolutely to conceal all objects behind them.

In a glowing sunshine, the particles of the atmosphere loaded with light, produce that soft haze or _caligine_, "as the Italian hath it,"

by which the colours of every object seen through it, are a.s.similated in one broad, warm, grey tone, however varied the tints of the objects in reality may be.

Another singular appearance takes place in remote objects, of which no one has so fully availed himself as Turner, for the production of pictorial beauties, and the brilliancy of sunshine. The atmosphere, which becomes most visible when before shadows, is frequently so much illuminated by the sun's rays, as to make the shadows appear nearly equally light with the illuminated parts of the objects; and the only distinction between the lights and shadows is to be found in the difference of tint--the shadows being blue or purple, and the lights a warm yellow, or fleshy colour.

The practice in art, both in Oil and in Water colours, has been an imitation of the process of nature, and with similar results. It is usual in Oil to paint the distance stronger in colour than it is intended to remain, and when dry, to pa.s.s some very thin opaque colour (technically to sc.u.mble) over the whole. Thus the most perfectly aerial tints are produced. In Water Colours, owing to the different quality of the materials employed, another method is adopted. White, or any opaque pigment (except when used in conjunction with Oil painting), has a disagreeable effect; so it is considered advisable partially to wash out the too highly coloured distance, and aerial tints similar to those produced by the sc.u.mble are obtained.

However requisite it may be philosophically to account for these appearances, it is unnecessary to perplex the reader of the present work with a questionable statement of the greater impetus of rays of certain colours enabling them to penetrate through the dense atmosphere, while others are more feeble, and are swallowed up and absorbed by the medium through which they in vain essay to pa.s.s. This may be a very pretty story to amuse children with, and such philosophers as are verging on their second childhood; but while so simple a method can be discovered of accounting for the blueness of the sky and distant objects, and one that can be so easily exemplified as that given in the previous pages, we shall not be the parties to contribute to that amus.e.m.e.nt, by writing "the history of some blue rays that were lost in a fog." Nor is this the place to point out the absurdity of such theories; it will be sufficient to remark that _if_ they are correct, all distant objects must appear _red_; and the blueness of the sky can only be accounted for by the hypothesis, that the atmosphere is a sort of trap for the blue rays of all the light that has pa.s.sed and is pa.s.sing through it!

Such being the effect of the atmosphere, and such being the antagonizing influence of a.s.sociation in looking at Nature, it has been found necessary for the purposes of Art, in representation, to exaggerate the former, to overstep the modesty of Nature, and thus to produce what may be termed conventional imitations or translations of Nature.

For, in looking at a picture, a.s.sociation again affects us; and as we know what is before us to be a flat surface, this can only be overcome by increasing the effects produced by atmospheric influence, reflections, refractions, &c. Hence the colour of all distant objects are reduced to some tone of grey, oscillating between the extremes of bright blue or even purple, and the medium between black and white as the subject, may be in sunshine cold daylight; or, as the taste of the artist may lead him to prefer one scale of colouring to another. Those who delight in the sunny skies of Italy, or tropical climates, represent the distance by the purest blue that Ultramarine affords.

Others, who delineate the village church or cathedral tower, represent them of a dark grey. Mountain scenery is represented of a deep Indigo blue, sometimes inclining to a decided purple, as all must remember in the drawings of the late Mr. Robson.

If this exaggeration or pictorial license be objected to, as an unnecessary departure from truth or the beauty of Nature, let the most inveterate worshipper of verisimilitude place himself before a landscape under bright sunshine, on a clear day, and make an exact representation, if he be able, of what he sees; and he will be convinced that in such an instance, something more and very different is required, to make a finely coloured picture. It cannot be that the colours of the original are deficient in beauty, but that an essential quality of the beauty of Nature cannot be preserved by Imitative Art.

He will find that it will not be possible to preserve even slightly the gradation of tints before him, without descending almost to blackness in the shadows, which will be destructive of brilliancy of sunshine, and at the same time, of that quality which is indispensable in a work of Art, _breadth_. He will find that in comparison with the brightness of the sky, the trees will look as dark as they are represented by Ruysdael and Hobbima, but who incontestibly do not give the idea of sunshine. As in translating from one language to another, he will find that a literal version may give the bones, but not the spirit of the text; and that something more is required to transfer the full force and character of the original. Herein consists a great part of the art of colouring objects. It may be that the scene being unbounded in Nature, is acted upon by extraneous circ.u.mstances which cannot be called to the aid of a picture.