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Title: The Use of a Box of Colours
       In a Practical Demonstration on Composition, Light and
       Shade, and Colour.

Author: Harry Willson

Release Date: June 4, 2010 [EBook #32681]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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A

PRACTICAL TREATISE

ON

COMPOSITION, LIGHT AND SHADE,

AND COLOUR.




PRINTED BY WILLIAM WILCOCKSON, ROLLS BUILDINGS, FETTER LANE.

[Illustration]





THE USE

OF A

BOX OF COLOURS,

IN A

Practical Demonstration on

COMPOSITION, LIGHT AND SHADE,

AND COLOUR.

Illustrated by Plain and Coloured Examples.

BY

HARRY WILLSON,

AUTHOR OF FUGITIVE SKETCHES IN ROME, VENICE, ETC.

          LONDON:
          PUBLISHED BY TILT AND BOGUE, FLEET STREET,
          FOR THE PROPRIETOR,
          CHARLES SMITH, 34, MARYLEBONE STREET, PICCADILLY.
          M.DCCC.XLII.




Entered at Stationers' Hall.




PREFACE.


BETWEEN those works on Art which are too costly, or too old to be useful
now,--those, which are too comprehensive or prolix--and those, which
teach nothing,--it was suggested to the Author, that an investigation
and simple arrangement of the Principles on which he has hitherto
successfully taught, with useful results, would form a _Practical_
Treatise, calculated to abridge the labours and shorten the road of the
Student, by its available suggestions.




CONTENTS.


                                                              Page

          PREFATORY REMARKS;--COMPOSITION, APPLIED TO PAINTING  1

          OF ANGULAR COMPOSITION                                9

          OF THE CIRCULAR FORM IN COMPOSITION                  12

          LIGHT AND SHADE--ITS APPLICATION TO PAINTING         15

          ON COLOUR                                            30

          OF THE THREE PRIMITIVE COLOURS                       33

          ON GENERAL NATURE                                    39

          ON RULES                                             45

          ON COPYING                                           47

          ON THE LIGHT AND SHADE OF COLOUR; AND REFLEXES       52

          HARMONY AND CONTRAST                                 61

          EFFECT, ACCIDENT, RELIEF, AND KEEPING                63

          DEXTERITY AND AFFECTATION                            68

          OF BACKGROUNDS                                       71

          ON WATER-COLOUR                                      73

          OF TINTS                                             75

          REFERENCE TO THE PLATES ON COLOUR                    76

          DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES                            78




COMPOSITION.


'GENIUS is the power of making efforts.'

Erroneous opinions, once formed, seldom fail to affect the taste of a
man's character through his whole life. It is, therefore, of the utmost
necessity that his conduct be rightly directed.

'Art will not descend to us, we must be made to reach and aspire to it.'

'The great art to learn much,' says Locke, 'is to undertake a little at
a time.' And Dr. Johnson has very forcibly observed--'That all the
performances of human art, at which we look with praise or wonder, are
instances of the resistless force of _perseverance_: it is by this that
the quarry becomes a pyramid, and that distant countries are united by
canals. If a man were to compare the effect of a single stroke with a
pickaxe, or of one impression of a spade, with the general design and
last result, he would be overwhelmed with the sense of their
disproportion; yet those petty operations, incessantly continued, in
time surmount the greatest difficulties; and mountains are levelled, and
oceans bounded, by the slender force of human beings.

'It is, therefore, of the utmost importance, that those who have any
intention of deviating from the beaten roads of life, and of acquiring a
reputation superior to names hourly swept away by time, among the refuse
of fame, should add to their reason and spirit the power of _persisting_
in their purposes; acquire the art of sapping what they cannot batter;
and the habit of vanquishing obstinate resistance by obstinate attacks.'

To the many, of different ages, of different pursuits, of different
degrees of advancement, who may take up this work, it will be difficult
to address myself, as the mind requires instruction adapted to its
growth; but I trust to being enabled to protect industry from being
misapplied.

To such as desire to shorten the path to excellence, and to whom rules
appear as the 'fetters of genius,' from mere impatience of labour, if
their studies be not well _directed_, they will, just in proportion to
their industry, deviate from that right way, to which, after all their
exertions, they will have to return at last. It will be time enough to
destroy the bridge when we have attained the shore. To render our
efforts effectual, they must be well directed; and the student will
ultimately triumph over those rules which before restrained him.

Begin wrong, and you are no sooner under sail, than under water!

When a difficulty presents itself, attack it as though you meant to
overcome it, and the chances are you succeed.

Do not fancy that you have, or that you want, that illusion,
_inspiration_; but remember Art is to be acquired by human means; that
the mind is to be expanded by study; and that examples of industry
abound to show the way to eminence and distinction. 'He must of
necessity,' says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'be an imitator of the works of
other painters. This appears humiliating, but is equally true; and no
man can be an artist, whatever he may suppose, on any other terms. For,
if we did not make use of the advantages our predecessors afford us, the
art would be always to begin, and consequently remain always in an
infant state.' And we shall no longer require to use the thoughts of
others when we have become able to think for ourselves: 'Genius is the
child of Imitation.'

There are no excellencies out of the reach of the _rules_ of
art--nothing that close observation of the leading merits of others,
nothing that indefatigable industry cannot acquire. Refinement in the
practice of _rules_ brings all under its dominion; and, 'as the art
advances, its powers will be still more and more fixed by rules;' and,
'unsubstantial as these rules may seem, and difficult as it may be to
convey them in writing, they are still seen and _felt_ in the mind of
the artist, and he works from them with as much certainty as if they
were embodied upon paper. And that it is by being conversant with the
inventions of others that we learn to _invent_. The mind becomes as
powerfully affected as if it had itself produced what it admires.' An
habitual intercourse, to the end of our lives, with good and great
examples, will invest our own inventions with their splendid qualities;
and if we do not imitate others, we shall soon be found imitating
ourselves, 'and repeating what we have before often repeated; while he
who has treasured the most materials, has the greatest means of
invention.'

It by no means appears to me impossible to overtake what we admire and
imitate--or even to pass it. He 'has only had the advantage of starting
before you,' while pointing the way has shortened our own labour. Life
must henceforth become longer; because we now, more than ever, gain time
by the experience of others: we pass on from that to our own, until
every thing in nature, judiciously directed, becomes subservient to the
principles and purposes of Art.

Again, 'I very much doubt,' says Sir Joshua, 'whether a habit of drawing
correctly what we _see_ will not give a proportionable power of drawing
correctly what we imagine.' But practice must always be founded on good
Theory; for mere correctness of drawing is, perhaps, nearly allied to
mechanical; blending it with the imaginative alone, in composition,
constitutes its pretensions to genius; but confidence in the one
produces boldness in the other.

'All rules arise from the passions and affections of the mind, and to
which they are all referrible. Art effects its purposes by their means.'

'Years,' says a modern author, 'are often spent in acquiring wealth,
which eventually cannot be enjoyed for want of those stores of the mind,
that should have been laid up in youth, as the best solace of declining
age. The most moderate power of making a sketch from nature would have
been a valuable attainment, when leisure and opportunity threw them
among scenes they could but half enjoy in consequence.' Besides, true
Taste does every thing in the best way at the least expense, while the
want of it often appears in unmeaning decoration at a vast outlay.

'A man of polite imagination,' says Addison, 'feels greater satisfaction
in the prospect of fields and meadows than another does in the
possession of them: it gives him a kind of property in every thing he
sees; so that he looks on the world, as it were, in another light.'

When a Painter walks out, he receives at every glance impressions that
would entirely escape others, upon sensibilities refined by habits of
observation The art of seeing things as they appear is the art of
acquiring a knowledge of drawing them. Indefinite observation and
defective memory are improved in the utmost degree by this faculty of
seeing things well defined. Besides, most Sciences are capable of
receiving great assistance from drawing.

The road is familiar to the practised painter, whose many stages he has
passed through so often, and he seldom thinks of revisiting the earlier
tracks of it when he has set up his study at the farther end; therefore,
it behoves us to come back, and lead the pupil through those early
stages of it, until we welcome him at the end, and he becomes as
familiar with the way as ourselves. The lowest steps of a ladder are as
_useful_ as the highest.

COMPOSITION, in drawing, is the art of disposing ideas, either from
hints taken from nature, or from our own minds; of arranging them, with
a view to subsequently dividing them into light and shade; and arraying
them with judicious colour. It is the art of graphically telling a
story, and should be so contrived, that the principal objects we would
impress the minds of others with, should hold that just place in a
picture, in relation to the minor or auxiliary parts, that may at once
impress the mind, and convey our object to the view of the spectator.

To compose well, it will be necessary for the student to diligently
consult the compositions of others; zealously enquiring where the _best_
are to be found, among the numerous instances that exist both in
pictures and prints, that he may carefully avoid those that would
mislead him in his research, and attain his object by consulting only
those that have merited the approval of the best judges, and have come
down to posterity as the best examples for his imitation. By adhering to
this plan, it will readily become such matter of habit with him, that a
comparatively short interval of time will force upon him the conviction
that he is in the right path to future success. It were useless to add
how many have began, and how many have failed, for want of this
precaution at setting out. A splendid and fascinating effect, or a
beautiful display of colour, or something or other that the artist has
dexterously contrived to invest his work with, is generally the cause to
which this failure is ascribable; while in the end, our own sympathies
with a composition, correct in its management, appeal to the feelings
and judgment at once.

In the first place, _much_ knowledge of perspective is not necessary to
the student: the leading principles are all that are required, at
setting out. As he goes on, it will be time enough to extend his
enquiries.

Secondly, a _good manner_ of drawing the _parts_, or objects represented
in a picture, with accuracy.

Thirdly, reference to the best compositions of others will enable him to
compare and combine them.

Fourthly, to render some subservient to others, by a skilful
distribution of Light and Shade.

Exercise the memory on various parts of objects, till you draw them
well: the means of _connecting_ them will gradually occur, until the
whole is united. The constant practice of this method will lessen the
difficulty at every step, until it becomes a habit of the mind, and is
rendered as easy to grasp a _whole_ scene, as before it was the parts.
The fleeting nature of effects of cloud or sunshine passing before us,
leave no time to meditate them; therefore, to impress the memory with
them is the only resource left.

The single glance of an eye has been found sufficient to catch the
passing expression of character, and fix it on the memory, when that
memory has been strengthened and matured by repeated efforts: so
evanescent are the features of things and forms that pass us by, that
observation--discriminative observation--assisted by habits of memory,
alone can fix them in our ideas: no single expression of the human
countenance remains long enough to paint it by any other means. When the
memory has been thus exercised, the slightest hint will be sufficient to
fire it. This may account for the expression, 'that artists see things
where nobody else can find them!' It is an _improved perception_ that
catches resemblances from almost ideal forms.

The most general forms of nature are the most beautiful. An enlarged
comprehension sees the whole object _at once_, without minute attention
to details, by which it obtains the ruling characteristics, and imitates
it by short and dexterous methods. 'Science soon discovers the shortest
and surest way to effect its own purpose;'--by an exact _adequate_
expression, and _no more_, adjusts the whole. The laziness of highly
finishing the parts, has been justly called the 'laborious effects of
idleness:' excessive _labour_ in the detail, is always pernicious to
the general effect, frittering it away; and, while you deceive yourself
that you are acquiring art, your pursuit will end in mechanics, in
default of more extended views--the _Art of seeing_ Nature!

To copy well, or even tolerably, is all that most amateurs ever arrive
at: to draw from nature, originally, seems placed out of the reach of
all, but those who devote a great part of their existence to it; and
yet, to copy nature, is a goal that all would reach if they could! Try
it, and behold the miserable production that is the result! without a
previous devotion to its laws.

Instead of for ever copying, it will be found of more importance to be
continually exercising the _memory_. 'A _mere_ imitator or copyist,'
says Dagley, 'dare not lose sight of his model, lest he should lose
himself!'

In sketching from nature, always survey the object at _every point_ the
nature of the ground will permit, as it prevents the disappointment
arising from having completed your work, and afterwards seeing it from a
point that would have given you greater advantages.

Whenever a pencil or pen is at hand, practice continually the
perpendicular, horizontal, and diagonal lines; then strike circles out,
or any other flowing lines, which practice will eventually give that
flow to the hand which is understood by freedom. When power is acquired
over these, _their combinations form Drawing_, in all its picturesque
varieties. It is in the power of all to attain these forms and essential
parts of drawing, with the same, or more facility, than the forms of
writing are acquired.

'No object you can place in your picture, can possess its proper value,
unless it is in its proper place;--out of that place, it can only create
disorder.'

The size of a figure, or any other object, should denote the distance at
which it is situated: so should the colour of it retire in the _same_
proportion.

The eye should be distant from the picture twice the length of it.

The most natural point of sight, is the level of a man's eye, standing
up; which should be the line of the horizon, or where the sky meets it.
All mountains should rise above that line.

If a figure be placed on the bottom line of the picture, it should be
the natural size, and all others diminish as they recede, in an exact
proportion to their distance, care being taken that they never have the
appearance of going up steps; all buildings, trees, &c., being governed
by the same rule. Thus the second figure or object, being the same
distance from the first as the first is from the eye, presuming them
both to be of the same size in nature, the second will appear _half_ the
size of the first; and, if the third be removed the same distance from
the second, it will appear _two-thirds_ less; and so on they will
diminish in equal proportion. At twice the distance, it will diminish
_three-fourths_; and at one-third more, it will lose _five-sixths_; and
so retire progressively, never varying the point of sight. One eye only
should be open, in order to reduce all objects to one point of sight;
the objects immediately in front, receiving alone the highest finish,
that all may appear to have ground to stand on. If you look at nature
with both eyes, you will never obtain the same relief upon a flat
superfice.

The horizontal line should never be placed at _half_ the height of the
picture, but always above or below it.

In drawing a room, or the nave of a church, place the centre of it on
one _side_, and never in the middle; and nearer the _bottom_ than the
top. Observe the same rule with the figures. One side should be in
light, while the other is in shadow. The heads or parts of figures on
the shadowed side should catch the light; while, to balance the mass,
the dark groups should be placed on the light side. (_See plate 1, fig.
1._)

So, in drawing any single object, always place it sufficiently on _one
side_, to procure a greater space above it, than beneath; and more
repose on _one_ side than the _other_. This principle should never be
lost sight of, for even in portraits it has a bad effect.

To produce pictorial effect, in composing landscape, the lines should be
of unequal length, forming acute and obtuse angles. Neither should they
be vertical or horizontal with the sides or bottom of the square, but
always diagonal, the distant horizon and lower streaks of the bases of
the clouds excepted, which should be contrasted, by the upper parts of
the clouds being round. Broken banks and spreading roots of trees will
effect this. An exception, in buildings and architecture, something
reverses this rule, from the lines being perpendicular and horizontal,
in which case, the shadows must be diagonal. When a wall, for instance,
is _straight_, a wheel, or circular object is generally placed against
it, to reverse the lines by apposition.'

'Objects, whether they consist of lights, shadows, or figures, must be
disposed in large _masses_ and groups, properly varied and contrasted,
that, to a certain quantity of action, a proportioned space of plain
ground is required; that light is to be supported by sufficient shadow,
and that a certain quantity of cold colours is necessary to give value
and lustre to the warm.' Observation of the best pictures will convey
those proportions to the mind, much better than the most profound
demonstration, 'that the eye may not be distracted by a multiplicity of
objects of equal magnitude.'

Grouping, in composition, involves in its arrangement, a combination of
the parts, so that they form an agreeable and well-defined whole, in
which it is essential sometimes to employ the strongest contrasts; on
the other hand, if the forms be too much scattered, they will distort
the harmonious combination that is the greatest beauty of art. All
accessories may be included in the principal group, so that they
contribute to the general breadth. _Opposition_ to regular forms is
essential; this opposition is called Relief. (_See art. Light and
Shade._)

We may derive hints in composition from almost every sort of
combination.

Variety and intricacy have many excellencies, when managed with skill,
as they exert the imagination of the beholder.

'Simplicity,' says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'when so very inartificial as to
seem to _evade_ the difficulties of art, is a very suspicious virtue.'
Simplicity might often better deserve the name of penury. 'I do not,
however, wish to degrade simplicity from the high estimation in which it
has been ever justly held. It is our barrier against that great enemy to
truth and nature, affectation! which is ever clinging to the pencil, and
ready to drop in and poison every thing it touches.'

Perseverance, in laborious application to acquire correctness, should
always be preferred to a splendid negligence of manner.

[Illustration: Composition Plate I. C. Hullmandel's Patent]

The frequent practice of covering down, veiling, or concealing an object
or figure, because they cannot draw it, and doing that so inexpertly
as not to escape detection, is frequently observable in the works
of modern artists; such as clothes, baskets, &c., thrown across a horse,
to conceal its deformity; unnecessary or affected drapery over a figure;
a cow, half buried in weeds and dock-leaves, that its shapeless legs may
not be seen, &c., with many other artifices to evade difficulties: to
such he says, 'If difficulties overcome make a great part of the merit
of art, difficulties evaded can deserve but little commendation.'

It is by no means an object with me, neither has this work pretension to
the form of a regular treatise (too often prolix and abstruse in their
investigations), but I would endeavour to bring together such useful
hints as occur to me in its progress, as _practically_ useful, without
confining myself to the regularity or connexion of a lengthened
dissertation, and seeking only to accomplish the end by explaining the
means of contending with difficulties where they are likely to occur.


OF ANGULAR COMPOSITION.

That the angular form is one of the best adapted to composition, at
least in landscape, is indisputable; the diagonal line dividing the
whole into two halves, gives the largest space for the distribution of
light and shade, as well as extent for the design.

When the whole composition is placed on one side, a single object--but
stronger in colour than the rest--placed at the opposite side, will
generally be found sufficient to balance all on the other, however
complicated or extensive in its details it may be. (_Plate 1, fig. 1._)

More _repose_ and softness is obtained by uniting the composition with
the darker shadows of the clouds, than by opposition.

On the other hand, an harmonious and agreeable whole is often achieved
by bringing the line of the clouds in an opposing angle to the line of
the landscape, the principal figures being then mostly placed at the
opposite side of the mass of the composition.

The first plan embraces an advantageous union of the parts with the
greatest breadth that can perhaps be obtained, while the other
frequently produces a dexterous effect by the opposition of colour.

A long stretching swamp, a bog, or line of sandy waste, marshes, a
broken heath, the distant sea or sand-bank, with nothing but its
straight horizon, are the sweetest morsels to good painters; for when
nature has done nothing, they must do all; and, with these difficulties
to contend with, it is something surprising to see the most broad and
beautiful productions result from so barren materials by investing them
with the all-controlling powers of chiaroscuro, by a careful inspection
of their natural colours, the forms of their lights and shadows, and
above all, the shapes and masses of the passing clouds; but variety and
simplicity should ever be their leading principle, and grandeur is sure
to be the result. Matter, seemingly incapable of form; wide extents of
pathless and unbroken sterility, of nakedness and desolation, will
become beautiful and masterly arrangements on these conditions: the
torn, and ragged, and scattered fragments of the clouds in their wild
and rushing fury over the sea, with its inexhaustible changes and
endless variety of colour, are the objects painters often choose, from
their very seeming nothingness, to invest with the _beau ideal_ of art.

The extremes of simplicity in composition, should not be attempted by
Tyros; the long-practiced and master hand alone can accomplish that,
which in others, would appear affectation.

The most powerful impressions are produced by the simplest construction.
The chief interest confined to a very small portion of the work, and the
larger space left in so much repose as will give value to, and dignify
the subject, that should at once meet the eye and engage our energies;
investing their accessories with their due portion of interest; taking
care that the expression of the principal action of the picture is
agreeably supported by their subordinate quality; that the object
desired is obtained, to the exclusion of all others, and that its
episodes be in character.

In the arrangement of figures, Mr. Burnet, in his Hints on Composition,
says, 'the heads and hands, the seats of action and expression, are
often referred to each other for the completion of form or extension of
light, beyond which a strong point is required, as a link of
communication between the figures and the background. By making this
point the strongest of a secondary group of objects, either from its
size, lights, or darks, the eye is carried into the most remote
circumstances, which become a part of the whole, from the principal
group being made to depend upon such point for the completion of its
form, the extension of the light, or the repetition of colour.' Thus, in
Vandyke we often see the luminous points of his picture referring to
each other in the form of a _losenge_, composed of the heads and hands,
the collar, ruffs, the hilt of a sword, &c., while all the other parts
are absorbed in dark or half shade, and making the form of his
composition complete, but differing something in their force and
attraction: strong light and dark coming in cutting contrast at a single
point, places the subordinate lights and darks in their proper
situations; at the same time, these points should always be
characteristic of meaning to the composition. (_Plate 1, figs. 5, 6._)

Nothing will teach you to compose a picture like sketching, however
slightly, the different groups you encounter in walking about; never be
without a little book for this purpose, as the merest draught will, when
you are composing, apply itself to your picture better than any thing
that may be suggested. I have invariably found this the best resource.
Take first the exact outline, shape, and position of the figure, and
afterwards the expression of what he is doing, carefully noticing the
shadowed parts, and dividing them boldly from the light; the half-tints
may be blended with comparative ease; therefore make as few lines as
possible, never encumbering them. That part of the figure which is
foreshortened will have the greater number of folds, while that which is
not, will come out plain and bold. Such memoranda will always have a
look of reality over every other means of obtaining it.

It is not unfrequently the case that, in the progress of a work, a
number of circumstances, partly the result of thought, partly of
accident, may occur; therefore, entire reliance on the first sketch is
not always to be depended on; at the same time, the various improvements
that suggest themselves, do not always interfere with the carrying out
our first conceptions, and still securing the same treatment with which
we commenced.

A repetition of forms can only be diverted by opposing lines being
brought in somewhat strong contrast against them; and, if possible,
between their recurrence. (_Plate 2, fig. 1._)

In copying, draw various lines across the original, and the same on the
paper the copy is to be made on. Begin with the centre, and draw
towards the sides; the objects represented will be neither too large
nor too small by this means.

I have said, that variety and intricacy have many charms. In passing
over our embellished lands, with all the advantages our country affords
in landscape objects, we cannot but observe this infinite variety in the
English oak, the birch, the ash, the abele; the magnificent white
poplar, with its large and beautiful leaves; the beech, the elm, the
stately horse-chestnut, &c.; their great diversity of foliage and bark;
their distinct peculiarities of colour and form; the oriental plane, the
hazel, sycamore, the maple; especially where the landscape-gardener was
never heard of, when the universal and monotonous green of summer gives
place to the glowing hues of October and _November_, the best months of
all, from the large portion of pearly grey that pervades all nature at
that time, and from which are brought out, as from a background of the
softest neutrals, the umbrageous, rich, bitumen-looking browns, deep
crimsons, reds, and golden colours of the leaves, &c.


OF THE CIRCULAR FORM IN COMPOSITION.

Circular composition is another of the best forms, and most easily
adapted for the arrangement of light and shade; as it generally
possesses receding hollows for the reception of the shadows, and
graduated projections for the lights to rest on. (_Plate. 1, fig. 4._)

Taste is the discriminating power of selecting good from bad; and this
is attainable by enquiry: there is neither instability nor uncertainty
in its rules; so long as you have the good sense to place all
'inspiration' out of the question! Nothing is so pernicious as that
illusion of the mind.

Grace, in my opinion, consists of lines flowing, more or less, into the
ellipsis--free of constraint and affectation. Raphael, for instance, was
all grace; Parmegiano degenerated into _affectation_.

In pictorial economy, the repetition of the same lines, and often of the
same forms, assist and support each other; as necessarily as repetition
of colours in painting. This extension of the same thing is frequently
indispensable, both in preventing the individuality of form, and, when
well broken up by opposing lines, adding materially to the seeming
negligence and irregularity that carries with it so great a charm.
(_Plate 1, fig. 4._)

The luminous spots or lights in a picture, frequently explain the _form_
of its composition.

In this repetition of lines and forms, the ground may be made to run one
way, the line of buildings another, the figures another, the horizon
another, the forms of the trees a different one, and the shapes of the
clouds may describe another: all these may have their repeats; yet will
they all seem to form and tend, though apparently all irregularity, to
an agreeable arrangement we sometimes see in nature, and an harmonious
whole, however intricate, without confusion. The investigation of the
means pursued by Salvator Rosa will explain this fascinating system.
(_Plate 1, figs. 2_ and _7._)

In contemplating the best regulated works of art, either in pictures or
prints, by always being careful to ascertain the _forms_ by which their
effects are produced, is one of the best means of arriving at this
object ourselves. Even a few memoranda of the ground plans, as an
architect would say, or the form of the line on which the bases stand,
will be found useful in enabling us to do this. (_Plate 1, fig. 3._)

The eye must be all observation, and the mind all reflection; and it can
scarcely fail to become influenced by the advantages to be derived from
this practice.

It is to the almost thinking sensibility, subtleness, and feeling of the
beautifully and wonderfully constructed human _hand_, that every thing
done with _it_, so far outstrips all _mechanical_ means of imitating it!
It is with this _solely_ and alone, that _fine Art_ is, ever was, and
ever will be, identified.

'The cleverness and sensibility of the hand,' says a beautiful and
masterly writer in the Quarterly Review, 'is quite as essential as
inventive genius.' Speaking of our showy and elaborate park-gates at
Hyde Park Corner, 'what men call the police station--in the language of
the gods, the triumphal arch!' and, comparing it with the bronze
net-work and foliage of Verrochio, 'which seems to grow and spring like
_living_ vegetation,' he says, 'these are capital _Brummagem_, and
nothing more.' 'Grasped by the man, the tool becomes a part of himself;
the hammer is pervaded by the _vitality_ of the _hand_. But in the work
produced by the _machinery_ of the founder there can be nothing of all
this _life_! What does it give you? Correct, stiff _patterns_, all on
the surface. Whatever is reproduced in form or colour by _mechanical_
means, is _moulded_--in short, is perpetually branded by
mediocrity--_Brummagem art_! And, like the music ground by the
barrel-organ, you never hear the _soul_ of the performer--the expression
and feeling, qualities, without which, harmony palls upon the ear.'

'Even in engraving, the best judges all declare that, so far from
benefiting art, the harm it has done has been incalculable, substituting
a general system of _plagiarism_ in place of _invention_.'

'What will not be the result of the means of multiplying the metallic
basis, and fixing the fleeting sunbeam, which are now opening upon us by
means of chemical science? Steam-engine and furnace, the steel plate,
the roller, the press, the _Daguerreotype_, the voltaic battery and the
lens, are the antagonist principles of _art_; and so long as they are
permitted to rule, so long must art be prevented from ever taking root
again in the affections of mankind. It may continue to afford enjoyment
to those who are severed in spirit from the multitude; but the masses
will be quite easy without it.' 'Whilst we triumph in the "results of
machinery," we must not repine if one of those results be the paralysis
of the imaginative faculties of the human mind.'

Of all the application of mechanical means to effect the purposes of
art, their contrast, with the operations of the hand, is as the
stiffness and weight of death, compared with life, freedom, and
vitality.




LIGHT AND SHADE.

                               ----Shadows, to-night,
          Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
          Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
          Armed in proof.


THE inexhaustible and unceasingly varying beauties of art begin to
develope themselves most when the study of Light and Shade commences;
and the student is amply recompensed for the time he has devoted to
obtaining a knowledge of correctness in outline. It is now that he sees
Nature with other and improved vision--with clearer conceptions of her
character--in her sunny and joyous revellings, as in her vast and awful
sublimity.

Drawing gives form; Colour, its visible quality; and Light and Shade,
its solidity.

If the necessary form of a figure, or any other object, be not agreeable
to the eye, its whole appearance may be so _altered_ by a skilful
management of its light and shade, as to become at once the contrary by
judicious arrangement.

In arranging the light and shade of a sketch I intend to paint, I
usually take a piece of grey, or neutral paper, place the highest light
at some point of sufficient interest (for the high light in a picture
always seems to say, 'Come and look at me, to see what I am about!') and
gradually lead it away, diffusing its rays, as it were, into the half
light, or the half shade, and so on, until it is wholly lost in the
darkest point; then, with white paint, or chalk, proceed to mark all
the _immaterial_ lights, on parts of the figures, or other objects, as
they occur in the design, as conductors of the more luminous one, into
the shade, as repeats, to prevent its singleness of appearance,
gradating until they are carried out of the work; like light 'collected
to a focus by a lens, and emitting rays,' as in _plate 2_. The judgment
being principally exerted in judiciously placing the repeats, one, or
more, of these lesser lights must, of necessity, be of the _same colour_
as the principal.

Sudden transitions, by producing _too much effect_, the lights being
_too_ light, and the darks too dark, produce a hard, dry, a staring, and
a vulgar appearance, for want of neutralizing their qualities, and
bringing the parts more in _union_ with each other. This overwrought
manner is principally the cause of that common look so identified with
the modern French school, the effect of too much relief.

On the other hand, nothing but flatness and _insipidity_ is the result
of too softly _blending_ and uniting the light with the shadow, and the
parts with one another, without that distinction and solidity
constituting the arrangement that should bring the near and the remote
together, in the treatment of the intermediate relations.

Light should be so skilfully woven into the shadow, as not to prejudice,
but _assist_ its depth by its intrusion; this is of most essential
consequence.

It is not necessary that the light should come in at one side of the
picture, nor pass out at the other, as has been asserted. It is,
perhaps, better to attach ourselves to no particular theory: few
theorists are good painters; their works, in general, bear a
contradictory proportion to the opinions set forth in their
speculations.

Sketching light and shade from nature (with a single colour, or a
stump), teaches us to profit by every circumstance, natural or
accidental. And these sketches, studied at home, teach us, in turn, at
once to _compose_, and to extend the sphere of our observation;--it
carries us to the doctrine of probable possibilities; and invests the
meanest subject with attraction; the most infinite variety becomes
simplicity upon these terms.

The light and shade of a picture should never bear the _same_
proportions; it should, in all instances, differ materially in quantity;
a repetition of forms should always bear a different proportion in
size, the one having a decided superiority over the other, or, the
inevitable consequences will be, confusion.

Unconnected lights and shadows, that are too much defined, will have a
_bald_, a chequered, or draught-board appearance.

In sketching from nature, I usually commence by rubbing in the _effect
first_, and adding the details, or features of the scene, _afterwards_;
mostly beginning with the centre, or else the point of sight, and
working outwards, and upwards, and downwards, to the sides of the
picture. But this can only come of extensive practice, or, at least, a
power of grasping the _whole_ at once.

I have said that the first and principal part of art is Composition, or
placing things together appropriately; the situation, motion, and
expression of the figures; their shapes, and lights, and shadows,
according. A perfect outline is of most consequence, and can only be
acquired by study. Next to this, the situation, colour, and quantity of
shadows; these being infinite, may be variously managed. At the same
time, it requires much more observation and study to _shade_ a picture,
than to merely draw the lines of it. No fixed rule can be given for
this; but, after having got the outline free and flowing, endeavour, by
various trials, on other bits of paper, to leave the _masses_ of shadow
and light _broad_, so as to convey an appearance of _space_ and extent.
In the infinite gradations of shade, and the blending of them, nature
has no determined law.

Objects out of doors, which receive the general light of the sky, and
where the surrounding air gives light on _all_ sides, will look
altogether different from the same objects drawn and shaded in a room,
which would give dark shadows where in nature there are none. (_Plate 3,
fig. 2._)

Without shadows, the forms of things would be unrevealed.

At different times of the day, objects will give shadows quite different
in size and form, corresponding with the course of the sun. The
difference of your own shadow exemplifies this, as well as the variation
of the shadows in your room.

Direct your attention to the difference of the shadows thrown by
candle-light; this luminary being _smaller_ than the object placed
against it, would make a figure, cut from a card, two or three inches
high, give a shadow on the wall the size of life.

Place any object in the sun, and turn it round to the north, south,
east, and west, at different periods; and, observing the difference of
shapes in the shadows, will be found excellent practice.

Placed in certain directions, the form of every thing may be inferred
from its shadow.

The shadow of a person arriving, on an open door, will, if the sun is
behind him, distinguish to the inmate the comer's identity.

Shadow is most articulate and defined when the light is brightest, by
reason of the _contrast_ formed by the light; and will always, under
these circumstances, appear much stronger than it is; though it is not
so strong, in reality, as shadow in cloudy weather, from its being more
equalized with the light. Shadow is only, more or less, by _comparison_
with the brightness of the light. This is best explained by making a
room dark by _degrees_, and holding up some object against the light as
it _diminishes_, until it is quite dark.

The light of the sun always reflects a shadow _equal_ to the object
which it projects on a parallel plane. The sun being larger than the
body illumined, throws a shadow less than that body. On the contrary,
the light of a candle, being less than the object reflected, produces
the contrary effect, the shadow _increasing_ as it retires, not in
parallels, but in _rays_, thrown by the light.

The figure and shape of a shadow is strictly defined by the form of the
object producing it; as light occasions the existence of shadow. An
excellent and well-turned remark is made by some writer on the subject,
who says, 'It must be observed, that there are _two_ points to be made
use of: one of them, the foot of the light, which is always taken on the
plane the object is placed upon; the other, the luminous body, the rule
being common to the sun, torch, &c. with this difference, that the sun's
shadow is projected in parallels, and that of the torch in _rays_, from
the centre, as before mentioned. But as all objects on earth are so
small in comparison of the sun, the diminution of their shadows is
imperceptible to the eye, which sees them all _equal_, neither broader
nor narrower than the object that forms them. On this account, all the
shadows made by the sun are made in parallels.'

'To find the shadow of any object whatever opposed to the sun, a line
must be drawn from the top of the luminary, perpendicular to the plane
where the foot of the luminary is to be taken; and from this, an occult
line, to be drawn through one of the angles of the plane of the object;
and another, from the sun to the same angle. The intersection of the two
lines will express how far the shadow is to go. All the other lines must
be drawn parallel hereto.'

The next thing to be considered is, an _appropriate_ effect of light or
shadow, to be given to the scene, or object, treated.

Calmness and serenity are the result of _horizontal_ lights, or shadows;
while the contrary is the effect of oblique, or abrupt and irregular;
such as are seen in the stormy effects of Salvator Rosa, &c.

The sky and clouds are often resorted to for _effect_, when the
landscape does not admit of sufficient. Again, less imposition thrown
into the sky, will repose the landscape, when it happens to be invested
with sufficient interest of itself.

Extending the repose of a work,--by throwing into the general mass of
shadow a number of objects that may appear of the least consequence to
the development of its story, and bringing those which should be most
prominent boldly forth into the light, by projecting their forms from
the hollows of the shadows, that may appear to teem with a multitude of
mysterious forms, while the cutting edges and sharp lights of those
projections come out in sunshine, depending solely on their vigorous
_division_,--is one of the greatest difficulties in composition, and is
principally rendered so by the necessity of adapting its sympathies to
the subject we would place before the beholder--by its agreeable
disposition and management; at the same time preserving the utmost
singleness of intention and simplicity, by avoiding confusion, and
supporting its breadth by the shapes of the masses of one and of the
other. A very small portion of the light, striking some object placed in
the shadow, will carry the light into it; while some point or figure,
enveloped in shade or dark local colour, will be sufficient to convey
the obscure parts into the luminous, and preserve the balance of the
whole. (_Plate 3, fig. 2._)

The most complicated outline may by this means be reduced to the
broadest effect of light and shade. And simple and palpable as this
principle may seem, it may be pursued until the artist is enabled to
_conceal_ entirely the art by which it is effected; until he feels that
which he could not perhaps explain, but may paint in a language that all
may read.

Sir Joshua Reynolds speaks of 'That breadth of light and shadow,--that
art and management of uniting light to light, and shadow to shadow, so
as to make the object rise out of the ground in the plenitude of
effect.'

Outline is _cold_ and determined in its appearance, and would seem so
though drawn with vermilion; and, from its being defined, carries away
all idea of space and extent with it. The greater the absence of
outline, the greater will be the breadth. Where there is a necessity for
much outline, large masses of it must be collected into broad portions
of the shadows and lights, which should be well diversified in their
forms. (_Plate 5._)

Where light _joins_ darkness, the light and dark are most intense at
their _junction_, arising from affinity of contrast. It is not necessary
to enter into the phenomena of vision to prove the existence of any
thing that will be found in this work, its details being drawn from
every-day observation.

Light and Shade should always, I think, partake of the character of the
subject: a _fete champetre_ should not be enveloped in the gloom of
shadowy obscurity, any more than a storm piece should be clothed in the
glories of sunshine.

When the composition consists of a number of objects, the best way is to
single out those that should most attract, by giving them the highest
quality of the light; while whole portions may be disposed of by
connecting them in broad masses of the secondary light, and further
uniting them with the trees, buildings, or any other objects that occur,
to extend its quantity; while the masses of shadow are formed by the
union of other several parts, the light mingling with and intersecting
the shade, until the whole present an harmonious _breadth_. But to
achieve this, so that the parts take agreeable forms--sustaining and
supporting, and giving value to each other--is perhaps the
_chef-d'oeuvre_ of the arduous arrangement of light and shade. (_Plate
2, fig. 5._)

If we require a large space for repose, by getting the light at one or
other side of the picture, the light should of necessity possess some
striking quality, to compensate so great a sacrifice of space; while a
multitude of less important objects may find a mysterious locality in
the reposing mass. (_Plate 2, figs. 1, 2._)

In some of Rembrandt's etchings, a very small but brilliant point of
light is carried through the composition, by the softest gradations,
into the intense depth of shadow, by striking the tops only of the
figures, parts of architecture, &c., until completely lost. The
principal light must never be placed in the centre, but either on one
side or other.

A single mass of light will have the greatest force when brought in
immediate contact with a dark background: so will a dark object tell
with equal power when opposed to the strongest light. So a figure,
clothed in black and white, and placed on one side of the foreground,
will focus _all the other_ lights and shadows, which will immediately
keep their places in the picture--so they be less in strength. In
proportion to the number of forms in the composition, this rule may be
equally applied to a group, if it agree in its outline, and does not
disturb the masses on which it depends for repose.

If the picture be generally light, or the greater part in half tint, a
single object or point of dark will be often found sufficient to key the
whole,--placed at the opposing angle on the side opposite the darkest
part.

The outline of an object we would bring most forward should come out
_cutting_ and strong from its surrounding shadow, while the other masses
will retire in proportion to the absence of the opposition of _density_
employed in preventing their approach. It may not be impossible that
these few words convey the impression of what we mostly intend.

The small and immaterial lights, catching the edges of objects carried
into the shadow, are of the greatest usefulness in giving depth and
intensity to it, while they assist the work by carrying the
communicating medium through it.

Carrying the shadow across the _middle_ of the subject is attended with
many advantages; among which are, bringing the foreground into extreme
vigour; furnishing ourselves with greater facilities in getting away the
background; and more readily obtaining distance and repose by blending
the horizon with the clouds; while the figures are brought up in cutting
relief against it. (_Plate 3._)

A mass of landscape in middle tint--such as a broken common, fields,
clumps of foliage, &c.--sweeping across the picture at a third, or
little more, its height from the bottom, with a bold tree or group
printing its dark form on the lightest part of the sky, and lifting
itself from a bright sunny bank laid on the bottom edge of the design,
carried on by a dark object or two, with cutting lights and intense
shadows in the weeds, stones, &c., of the foreground to support it, the
clouds graduating upwards from the horizon and mingling with the middle
space at the opposite side of the principal group, seems to have been a
favourite arrangement with Gaspar Poussan, Cuyp, and many of the Dutch,
as at present it is with Turner, and many of the modern,--offering great
advantages from the numerous scenes in nature for ever opening to our
view through the broad masses of shadow, flung from the passing clouds
across the country, and possessing every variety of tint, sobered and
covered down by the extent and transparency of the shadows, while the
brilliant lights come out with all the vigorous warmth the sun invests
them with.

A walk into the fields, or across a heath, can scarcely be taken, when
the clouds are floating along, without an effect corresponding with this
being seen. A part of the principal group will sometimes be in light
while the rest is in deep shadow, or may appear so from the different
colours of the trees; in which case, it will blend more gently with the
sky, and more intensely focus the depth of shadow, if the lighter colour
be interposed between it and the sky, losing a little of its force, but
gaining harmony and union, together with the advantage of carrying the
warm colour of the foreground up into the foliage, and extending it more
gradually through the clouds.

_Three_ lights, differing in strength--the _centre_ one the
strongest--and placed at different angles, has universally been found an
agreeable arrangement. This mode may be always pursued with a certain
degree of success. The etchings and drawings after this manner are very
numerous,--perhaps from its easy management.

As our senses are carried through the varieties of a tale, so the eye
_must_ be diverted from any _particular_ object in a picture, by
judiciously absorbing or bringing into notice the accessories necessary
to complete the composition, without disturbing it, or prejudicing the
principal. An harmonious intimacy with all the parts, and the _means_
of that intimacy rendered as imperceptible as possible, will absorb
hardness in the masses, and give distinctness and articulation to that
which should predominate in acute solidity, all disjointed and
unconnected appearances being carefully guarded against. Different
arrangements of the same subject will be found the best means of
exemplifying this.

The shadow of a cloud may accidentally be thrown over the greatest
distance, while a sunbeam may suddenly illumine the middle space or
foreground: the distance then would be the darkest part of the picture.
Or a gleam of light may rest upon the distant mountains, while the
middle space and foreground may be in shadow; then the case would be
reversed, the greatest spread of light occupying the farthest distance.
Even this arrangement has succeeded with some.

The highest defined light will be that which comes boldest off the
darkest part of the ground. All others will decrease in proportion, as
they mingle with the ground. And, as the aforesaid light is pure, so the
darks will appear darker than they are. (_Plates 5, 6._)

That part of a body in light will be the brightest that is nearest to
the luminary. In the theory of light, it often happens there are double
and treble reflexes, which must be stronger than single ones, and the
shadows of course proportionally faint. (_Plate 4._)

In proportion as reflected lights are thrown upon a darker or lighter
ground, will their appearance be more or less brilliant. We deduce from
this, that all those reflexes, that brighten up and play so harmoniously
among the obscurity of shadows, must be in proportion to the strength of
the light that occasions them. (_Plate 4._)

The light made to graduate too softly, by means of the half-tint, into
the shadow, unless some part be boldly and cuttingly opposed to the
other, will have a tame and insipid appearance, however sharp and
forcible other portions of the work may be. (_Plates 3, 4._)

'_Fulness_ of effect is produced by melting and losing the shadows in a
ground still darker than those shadows: whereas _relief_ is produced by
opposing and separating the ground from the figure; either by light, or
shadow, or colour.' (_Plate 3, fig. 2._)

Any thing intercepting the line of light upon an object, will render its
shadows soft, and its lights beautifully blended.

Accidental shadows are those occasioned by objects interposed between
the light and the surface reflected on. Natural shadows, those which the
light connects with every opaque body. (_Plate 4, consists of natural
and accidental shadows._)

The outline of the shadow should partake of the forms, at its edges, of
the character of the surface receiving, as well as the one giving it.

In many, otherwise, excellent pictures of Claude's, the sun is placed
at, or near the point of sight: so that all the shadows, running from
that point, almost mechanically carry the eye into the picture. Whatever
of good may proceed from this arrangement, its purpose is too easily
detected; and it has an artificial effect.

Da Vinci says, 'The appearance of _motion_ is lessened, according to the
distance, in the same proportion as objects diminish in size.'

Open the side of a book against the light, and observe the gradations of
shadow on the leaf.

If you turn half a sheet of paper up against the light (in the manner of
the book), it will explain, by its shadows on the parallel part, the
phenomena of half or demi-tint.

In any body that has many indentures, there will be many shadows and
their grades: that body will have a greenish hue over its superfice,
where the light falls on it. To keep the colour of that light pure, in
this instance, requires great management; as the markings of the masses
of foliage, &c., receiving the light. And yet, without these markings,
or as it were carrying the shadow into the light, it would look _bald_.
As this is done cleverly, so it will have the effect of subduing the
harshness of the lights; which not being in compact masses, lose their
force.

I often rumple a piece of paper, to observe the infinite variety of its
shadows. And place a ball against the light, on a white surface, and
observe its gradations. So, if you roll up a sheet of white paper, and
lay it on a white surface, against the light, or make it stand up, it
will describe the gradations of a column.

It is a very excellent method to keep a solid square, a solid sphere, a
cylinder or tube, a cone (make a paper one), a cup, &c., by you, and
place them in various directions in the light, making various memoranda
of their lights, shadows, and reflexes, in one colour. By this means,
light and shade will soon become familiar, and the task get easier at
every trial.

A piece of white paper _folded several ways_, and laid on a table
against the light, will reveal all the different degrees of shade. Then,
observe the highest light and the deepest shade, with their gradations.

Observe, in a room with one window, having chairs, tables, sofas, &c. in
it, where and how their shadows fall. This will assuredly lead the mind
into the mysteries of light and shade, which must end in knowledge. At
the very least, the power to see things as they are!

To render bodies in sunshine, the shadows must be dark, and marked
strongly and _distinctly_, and the lights extended and broad. So,
_in-door_ objects have equally strong shadows, with the lights and
shades _distinctly_ divided and precise. All should, as a peremptory
rule, receive the light from above. The light should come in from a
sufficient height to give a shadow on the ground the same length as the
object is high.

If any projection occurs on a plain on which a shadow is thrown, the
shadow takes the _form_ of the projection, as it _passes_ it; but, if it
ends _upon it_, the shadow will be shaped by the _object_ that flung it,
still qualified by the section of the projection. The rough surfaces of
many things would describe the same in a lesser degree.

Light objects, as they retire, become darker; and dark ones, lighter;
but light ones are seen at a greater distance than dark.

The darkest opposing object brought up against the most retiring, should
not extend itself to the edges of the picture, but let the half tints
creep in, to bring the light down with more effect--diffusing it more
extensively.

The shadow on the ground on which it is thrown, should be darker than
the object projecting it; and, if the object be round, a reflected light
will be found on the edge where it joins the shadow, as in a column.

I placed a chair in the shade, and the sun's _reflection_ threw a
_shadow_ from it!

The light of every body is qualified by the ground that surrounds it.

Breadth is acquired by blending the light parts of the figures with the
light of the ground; and the same rule will apply to the shadows.

When the ground of the picture is mostly dark, the lights, in my
opinion, should take some one or other good decided _form_ in
composition, in their developement, as their meaning is only to be
explained by themselves. (_Plate 4._)

If a single light or luminous mass be surrounded on all sides by a dark
ground, one or more of its edges should be strong and cutting; and if a
dark centre be placed on a light ground, if the same management be not
observed, it will look like a hole.

Leonardo says 'The ground which surrounds the figures in any painting,
ought to be _darker_ than the light part of those figures, and lighter
than the shadowed part.'

Great beauty is obtained by laying the shadowed part of an object
against a darker ground; the light receiving increased brightness from
this arrangement, and the softness of the shadow on the light side being
nearly imperceptible, gives great relief and beauty. This mode is much
resorted to in the management of portraits, while it equally applies to
landscape.

Most _repose_ is obtained by placing a light group or object on the
light side of the picture, and dark objects on the dark side, as no
interference of the one or the other then occurs to disturb the masses;
but the effect will be less than when carried the one into the other,
and the difficulty of uniting the two parts become greater.

In some of the best works of Ostade, and many of the Dutch school, a
dark figure or group is brought out from a darker background, with great
brilliance, and even force, when the colour of the one is cold, and the
other warm.

Corregio's management of light and shade placed him in the highest
sphere of this department of the art.

An object or figure, having a dark and a light side, the dark side being
opposed to the light part of the ground, and the light side coming off
the darker part, will have great effect.

When a dark body terminates on a light ground, it will detach itself. If
a round object, it will not carry its light to the extremity of its
outline, but finish in a half shade, darker than the ground.

A large mass of light in the middle of the picture, surrounded by
shadow, is a rule; and, when reversed, has an equally imposing effect.
(_Plate 2, fig. 5._)

The largest division of the light and the dark parts of a picture, so
they differ in quantity, will of necessity produce the greatest breadth;
but the extent and magnitude of that breadth will be entirely qualified
by the judicious management employed in producing a union between them.

One greatly approved method of producing this effect is, by bringing the
light up to a brilliant focus, and absorbing the shadows into the
darkest obscurity; while the larger portion of the work is pervaded by
the half light and the half dark, as well as their shadows by strong
local colour; while those in the shadow should come out sharp and
distinct. The vigour of the light will dissolve all chance of influence
in the half tints; while the extreme depth of the shadow, carried
perhaps to a little excess, will gather up and absorb all the
subordinate shadows. (_Plate 1, figs. 5 and 6._)

Marking, with a stump and bit of black lead, when we are abroad, the
principal points, in sketching from nature; and noticing in what manner
those points refer to, and assist each other; tracing their effects, and
ascertaining the laws that bring them harmoniously, or by contrast,
together, is the best method to be pursued for the arrangement of our
own ideas in composing. Sketches so obtained, should be preserved as
models to exercise the invention by.

A more distinct idea of light and shade is best obtained by the use of
one colour only, as many only tend to perplex the eye, and divert the
attention from the great object that should be distinctly kept in view.

In laying on the tints (of one colour only), the method to be pursued is
as follows:--Mix the separate shades in separate saucers, three, four,
or five, as may be required; keep the board you have previously strained
the paper on inclined at moderate elevation, that the colour may flow
freely; lay in the sky first; the farthest distance next; then all those
masses of shadow which principally influence the division and interest
of the picture; working downwards to the foreground from the middle
distance, using a large brush, filled with colour, to produce clearness
and transparency. Then proceed to delicately touch upon the lights, in
order to blend them with the shadows, that they may not appear too
abrupt, as well as to break down their asperity, and prevent the work
looking bald. Now a darker shade than any should be mixed up, to put in
the markings of the foliage and foreground, rocks, or whatever the
composition may consist of. Lay the whole on with freedom and boldness;
and, if any parts require strength, they may be lightly floated over
again, when quite dry.

Do not disturb the surface of the paper more than can be avoided; and
endeavour to keep all the tints _even_, or flat, in the first instance,
without attention to the details. Always mind to take up enough of the
colour at once to cover down the space intended, without sweeping it
contrary ways. Thick rough paper is the best.

The power of making large masses of flat tints, commonly comes of great
practice; it is, therefore, necessary that this difficulty is conquered,
before attempting to blend them.

The use of that important thing, in the hands of an artist, the sponge,
must be taught and seen to be understood.

The most forcible arrangement in the composition of light and shade is,
where it is spread and diffused, until reaching the strongest point;
which point, opposed immediately to the most retiring part, and clothed
in strong colour, will have the effect of balancing and combining the
most complicated forms, that, but for this method, had been all
confusion.

If a sketch be too outliny, it will want solidity; if too much filled
in, it will be heavy.

Do not let the lights be too scattered, or too equal, lest the struggle
for precedence be observed.

When clouds are interposed between the sun and the object, the shadows
will be soft, and their terminations almost imperceptible.

[Illustration: Light and Shade Plate 2

C. Hullmandel's Patent.]


[Illustration: Light and Shade Plate 3]


[Illustration: Light and Shade Plate 4]


[Illustration: Light and Shade Plate 5.]


[Illustration: Light and Shade Plate 6.]

In conclusion, the concentration, the diffusion, or the contrast of
light and shade, is best understood from a few blots made from the
pictures of those great masters, who strike us as having excelled most
in this department of the art, carefully preserving their arrangements,
and applying them to our own compositions, until we feel and think like
them. And a very little practice, in pursuing this method, will place
the student in as quick a habit of effecting it, as of writing down
his thoughts, together with the immeasurable advantage of snatching from
Nature her faultless effects of chiaroscuro--let them be as fleeting as
they may--and the lights and shades of _our own minds_ will influence
the effect they have on the minds of others.

Is there not practical wisdom in commencing every day with the steady
effort to make as much of it as if it were to be our whole existence? If
we have duties to perform, in themselves severe and laborious, we may
enquire if there be not some way by which to invest them with pleasant
associations? How many men find their pleasure in what would be the
positive horror and torment of the indolent, whose inefficient and
shrinking spirit recoils from these tasks as insupportable burdens?

In exact proportion as you have cultivated your taste and education in
this, as in all other things, will be your happiness and enjoyment in
your productions.

In a work of this nature, tautology is not altogether unavoidable, as
that which occurs in one division of it, equally applies to another.

I shall revert to the subject of light and shade again, under the head
of its application to Colour.




ON COLOUR.


COLOUR, perhaps, is one of the most expressive languages we possess--the
easiest understood by all.

'Style in painting,' says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'is, the same as in
writing, a power over materials, whether words or colours, by which
conceptions or sentiments are conveyed.

'When an opportunity offers, _paint_ your studies, instead of drawing
them. This will give you such a facility in using colours, that in time
they will arrange themselves under the pencil.

'If painting comprises both drawing and colouring, and if, by a short
struggle of resolute industry, the same expedition is attainable in
painting as in drawing on paper, I cannot see what objection can justly
be made to the practice, or why that should be done in parts which may
be done altogether.

'Of all branches of the Art, Colouring is the least mechanical.' We
cannot measure colour by lines as we can drawing.

Art is not a thing merely to be admired, and with which the spectator
has nothing to do, however much he may suppose it: he has perhaps,
unconsciously, as much to do with it as it may have to do with him. A
man, wholly regardless of art, will remember having seen a picture
twenty years ago, when shown him again: its influence on his memory, his
taste, or his passions, could alone effect this.

'Colouring,' says Mr. Burnet, 'must either add to, or diminish the
effect of any work upon the imagination; it must add to it by
increasing, or diminish it by destroying the deception.' And he farther
quotes this passage from Addison: 'We cannot, indeed, have a single
image in the fancy that did not make its first entrance through the
sight; but we have the power of retaining, altering, and compounding
those images, which we have once received, into all the varieties of
picture and vision that are most agreeable to the imagination.'

'We can form no idea of colouring beyond what has an existence in
nature. From this source all our materials must be drawn.' And
again:--'The artist must never forget that the mind is composed of ideas
received from early impressions, from perceptions frequently occurring,
and from reflections founded on such perceptions. Painting can reach the
mind only through the medium of the eye, which must be gratified
sufficiently to interest it in the communication.'

There should always exist a corresponding feeling between the subject
and the manner of treating it.

The student should at least make himself acquainted with the leading
principles of every variety of art; because, 'that which would be
applicable to one style, would, in some measure, be destructive to
another.' It matters nothing how _low_ the branch or particular walk he
has chosen; for it will acquire quite another accent from his
acquaintance with the higher, whose powers of fascination will in time
imperceptibly infuse something of their own dignity into his works.

Something of this infusion has come down from the greatness, the
grandeur, and severity of the Roman and Florentine schools, through all
varieties they have passed, to the modern. To reach this, however, the
mind must habituate itself to become quite 'disdainful of vulgar
criticism,' before it can well feel a congenial sympathy with these high
latitudes, as well as having to unlearn much it has acquired.

There are many excellencies in painting not at all compatible with each
other, and that should never occur together--not even to gratify that
fastidious disposition that is dissatisfied with every thing short of
perfection: lightness would seem to want solidity, while precision will
have dryness and hardness. The excellencies of others frequently corrupt
ourselves: just as one coat, however well made, will not adapt itself to
two persons, any more than their talents will blend with and lessen our
defects.

There is no particular style or branch of art, that the student may be
in pursuit of, that does not possess some excellence or other--that is
not alone, or at all, perhaps, to be found in the great manner of the
Roman or Florentine schools of colour: in composition, breadth and
arrangement (particularly of light and shade), and masterly treatment of
colour, the Flemish and Dutch, as will our own school, furnish
sufficient instances.

Light and shade, colour, novelty, variety, contrast, and even
simplicity, all become defects in their excess!--the spirit of the rules
by which they are regulated is to be more observed than their literal
sense. It will generally be found sufficient to preserve this spirit of
their laws alone, to which our ideas may be proportioned and
accommodated.

Colour, in my opinion, is as useful in composition as lines: a few
colours, scientifically woven together, will form agreeable composition
of themselves.

Warm and cold colours, with their gradations and contrasts, lights and
shadows with theirs, agreeing with and opposing each other, all
struggling together (but that struggle _unseen_--the art _concealed_!)
to the accomplishment of one object--the sweetness of harmony and union
of the whole to one end.




OF THE THREE PRIMITIVE COLOURS.


THE Three Primitive Colours are the basis of a perfect system, and may
be reduced, in order of degradation, into perfect black. Their communion
comprehends all other colours; and their effects, under the influence of
light and shade, make pictures.

Yellow is the light; Red, the medium; and Blue, darkness;--colours of
themselves, that cannot be produced by the mixture of any other.

Hayter says, in his Compendium: 'Secondly--Yellow, red, and blue contain
the sole properties of producing all other colours whatsoever, as to
colour, by mixtures arising entirely among themselves, without the aid
of a fourth.

'Thirdly--Because, by mixing proper portions of the Three Primitives
together, black is obtained, providing for every possible degree of
shadow.

'Fourthly--And every practical degree of light is obtained by diluting
any of the colours, as above producible; or, in oil painting, by the
mixture of white paint.

'Fifthly--All transient or prismatic effects can be imitated with such
coloured materials as are of the Three Primitive Colours, but only in
the same degree of comparison as white bears to light.

'Sixthly--There are no other materials, in which colour is found, that
are possessed of any of the foregoing perfections.


                   YELLOW.
          Yellow and Red make Orange,
                   ORANGE.
          Orange and Green make Olive,
                   OLIVE.

                    RED.
          Yellow and Blue make Green,
                   GREEN.
          Orange and Purple make Brown,
                   BROWN.

                    BLUE.
          Red and Blue make Purple,
                   PURPLE.
          Green and Purple make Slate,
                   SLATE.


'These nine colours are all that are distinguished by integral names.

'Thus it will be seen, that Yellow, Red, and Blue produce--first,
Orange, Green, and Purple; and these produce Olive, Brown, and Slate,
making nine.

'Yellow, Red, and Blue, make Black.

'And this is the compendium and whole of the system of the degradation
of colours into Black, or perfect darkness.

                     'WARM EFFECT is produced by
          'White, Yellow, Orange, Red, Purple, Indigo, Black.
                     'COLD EFFECT is produced by
          'Black, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Pale Yellow, White.'

       *       *       *       *       *

The Three Primitive Colours, by the _endless_ varieties of their
solvents, regulate, more or less, the whole economy of a picture; and
the abundant stores of nature are faithfully imitated by their agency.
Thus, the Primitives being red, blue, and yellow, the colours produced
by their combination are purple, orange, and green; these, in their
turn, may be extended to every tint that exists. The junction of the
Three Primitives absorb _all_, and form neutral tint, which, by the
addition of quantity, produces black.

All the contrasts are rendered from the same.

And here it may not be out of place to remark how men will devote
themselves to many idle pursuits that return them nothing, while a
little study of the noble theory of colour would enable them, without
pushing the matter far, to bring to their firesides reminiscences of
their travels, or, otherwise, spots endeared by circumstances, together
with a thousand other agreeable associations. They would learn in time
to look at nature through the medium of art, and find a delightful
interest in it they never anticipated; while every hour so spent would
more and more exercise and mature the judgment.

A knowledge of the natural chalks, or colours of black, white, and red,
is indispensably necessary. So, a perfect acquaintance with the Three
Primitives, blue, red, and yellow, is of equal consequence; that blue
and yellow are brought together by red; and that all mixtures are the
scientific result of the union of these three, no _two_ of which will
produce the _third_. The result of the mixture of any _two_ gives the
_contrast_ to the absent _one_:--as red and blue, producing purple, is
the opposite to yellow; blue and yellow make green, the contrast to red;
red and yellow, producing orange, contrasts blue; the three, blended
together, gives us black: neutral tint is the result of the same
mixture. A perfect knowledge of mixing tints, from this scale, will
produce all the _compounds_ necessary to art, and their admixtures may
be varied _ad infinitum_.

The neutral tint mentioned may be so varied, as to act in perfect union
as the _shadow_ to any one of the colours composing it.

The modes or systems of obtaining these results of colour, as practised
by the greatest schools, are exceedingly different. Sir Joshua Reynolds
says: 'They may be reduced to three. The first may be called the Roman
manner, where the colours are of a full and strong body, such as are
found in the Transfiguration. The next is that harmony which is produced
by what the ancients called the corruption of colours, by mixing and
breaking them till there is a general union in the whole: this may be
called the Bolognian style. The last manner belongs properly to the
ornamental style, which we call the Venetian, being first practised at
Venice; but it is perhaps better learned from Rubens. Here the brightest
colours possible are admitted with the two extremes of warm and cold,
and those reconciled by being dispersed over the picture, till the whole
appears like a bunch of flowers.

'As it is from the Dutch school the art of breaking colour may be
learned, so we may recommend here an attention to the works of Watteau,
for excellence in the florid style of painting.

'To all these manners there are some _general_ rules, that never must be
neglected. First, that the same colour which makes the largest mass be
_diffused_, and appear to revive in different parts of the picture; for
a single colour will make a spot or blot. Even the dispersed
flesh-colour, which the faces and hands occasion, requires a principal
mass, which is best produced by a naked figure. But where the subject
will not allow of this, a drapery, approaching to flesh colour, will
answer the purpose; as in the Transfiguration, where a woman is clothed
in drapery of this colour, which makes a principal to all the heads and
hands of the picture. And for the sake of harmony, the colours, however
distinguished in their light, should be nearly of the _same_ simple
unity in their shadows; and to give the utmost force, strength, and
solidity to the work, some part of the picture should be as _light_, and
some as _dark_ as possible. These two extremes are, then, to be
_harmonized_ and reconciled to each other. Pure black, in these
instances, is opposed to the contrary extreme of brightness.

'If to these different manners we add one more, that in which a _silvery
grey_, or pearly tint, is predominant, I believe every kind of harmony
that can be produced by colours will be comprehended. To see this style
in perfection we must again have recourse to the Dutch school,
particularly to the works of the younger Vandervelde, and the younger
Teniers, whose pictures are valued by connoisseurs in proportion as they
possess this excellence of a silver tint.

'Which of these different styles ought to be preferred, so as to meet
every man's ideas, would be difficult to determine, from the
predilection which every man has to the mode which is practised by the
school in which _he_ has been educated; but, if any pre-eminence is to
be given, it must be to that manner which stands in the highest
estimation with mankind in general, and that is the Venetian style, or
rather the manner of Titian, which simply considered as producing an
effect of colours, will certainly eclipse, with its splendour, whatever
is brought in competition with it.'

In landscape painting, the routine of placing one colour by the side of
another according to any known or understood systems, is not so
imperative as when applied to historical painting, and where the manner
and effect of any particular school is to be produced.

To institute a comparison between all who have excelled in colouring,
would be useless here, differing so entirely. But of _Tone_:--The rich,
and the mellow, and the silvery grey, are cared most for, as regards
this expression. It involves all colours in its meaning, as well as the
depth and power of the light and shade, when divested of colour. It is
frequently produced after the picture is painted, by glazing or toning
over it until the required depth and expression of colour is obtained,
and mostly adding richness, splendour and variety. In water colour it is
highly and essentially prized.

A beautiful quality of tone is obtained from drawing on grey or coloured
paper, with black, white, and red chalks, the colour of the paper
supplying the middle tint, (which should always pervade the largest
space). It is likewise an admirable principle to adopt in water colour,
as it qualifies the whole appearance of the work, and the student will
proceed with greater certainty.

Of the situations in which a colour appears most beautiful, Leonardo
says, 'Black is the most so in the shade; white, in the strongest light;
blue and green in the half tint; yellow and red in the principal light;
gold in the reflexes, and lake in the half tint:' and 'the lighter a
colour is in its nature, the more so it will appear when removed to some
distance; but with dark colours it is quite the reverse.'

Some colours are rather unsociable, and, not mixing well with others,
are best used by themselves, producing the required tint by glazing one
over the other.

When any transparent colour is laid over an opaque one, or another of
its own quality, it produces a mixture different to either of those that
compose it; as lake over blue gives purple; yellow on blue produces
green, and so on. In many cases this is a superior method to that of
mixing them at once to the colour desired.

White is the receiver of all colours; black of none.

Any single colour appears most beautiful and brilliant when near the
same colour, but not having so much density in it. Observe how colours
are blended or contrasted in the plumage of birds, the wings of
butterflies, &c.

The shifting, blending, and comparing a number of coloured cards, has
always been found a useful and amusing way of instructing children in a
knowledge of colours.

Different coloured pieces of glass held up against a landscape, will
serve to show, through their medium, the varieties of hot and cold
effects.

Certain colours impart value to others, principally by contrast; thus,
the brilliant and rich glow of an autumnal evening is rendered most
intense when the dark brown and neutral masses of foliage are brought up
against it: it is only to their relative situations that they owe their
power.

That part of a white object which is nearest to a dark one, will appear
the whitest, and the less so as it is removed from it. The same occurs
by a dark one.

All colours will appear most perfect in themselves when contrasted with
their _opposites_--a green against red; blue against yellow; black
against white, &c.

Where one colour terminates on another, that is its contrast, there will
be greater strength exhibited at the junction than in the middle.

Great darkness is only obtained by the opposition of bright light, and
bright light by contrasting it with density of shadow.

Colours should recede in proportion to the _size_ of objects, as they
retire from the eye.

Too frequent a repetition of the same colour will produce monotony; so
will too much contrast.

Contrasts in colouring must be used with great caution, or the absence
of all keeping will be the result. At the same time, the beauty of a
colour is only fully developed by being placed by the side of its
opposite, or the one from which it is farthest removed.

If the blacks in a picture are kept firm and decided, they _clear up_
the general effect, and give _lightness_ and buoyancy to the whole work.

A colour is often left single, and standing by itself, in some principal
object; in which case, it is so contrived, by its density, or some other
quality, to bring together and harmonize all the rest.

If colours are not placed in _harmony_ with each other, they must be in
contact with such as give them value; as red against a cold, or green
against a warm colour. In short, the grand principle, in all its
constituent parts, simply amounts to this.

The strongest darks, brought in contact with the strongest lights,
increase their brilliance, by giving to the lights the utmost force and
clearness they can receive.

_Richness_ of colouring can only be adopted when the general tone of the
picture is sufficiently _dark_ to support it.

All colours retire in proportion to their negative or neutral character;
and as they develope themselves, gradually approaching to their
brightest point, so they reach the prominent parts of the foreground.

Rich, warm, and deep shadows, will support the strongest colours; and if
the browns are kept cool, the greys and cold colours retain their purity
better. The colours that _unite_ the hot and cold parts of a picture
require the nicest judgment: thus, white and black may be brought
together by grey, (grey being _made of_ white and black); blue and red,
by the interposition of purple, (purple being formed of blue and red.)

The larger the mass employed of neutral and _obscure_ colours, the
greater will be the force and illumination in the _clear_ ones, which,
being in their natures most attractive, should always be employed in
parts intended to create the greatest sensation.




ON GENERAL NATURE.


THE magic of art does not consist in an exact resemblance of an
object:--'An exact resemblance,' says Sir Joshua, 'may be even
disagreeable. The effect of figures in wax-work, for instance, is
disgusting to the eye accomplished to judge of Fine Art, yet it
approaches reality. We are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends
accomplished by seemingly inadequate means; but to express distances on
a plain surface, softness by hard bodies, and particular colouring by
materials which are not singly of that colour, produces that magic which
is the prize and triumph of Art. The power of a few well-chosen strokes,
which supersede labour by judgment and direction, produce a complete
impression of all that the _mind_ demands in an object; we are charmed
with such an unexpected happiness of execution, and begin to be tired
with superfluous diligence, which, in vain solicits an appetite already
satiated.'

We do not desire those who look on our pictures to suppose them real men
and women, or that they are real landscapes; but to admire the art
through the _means_ by which it is performed.

I have always observed the most exact imitations of nature to be
peculiarly within the sphere of the illiterate and uninformed; and the
more debased and vulgar the mind, the more will it admire such
productions. On the other hand, Fine Art has its own peculiar modes of
imitating Nature and of deviating from it, for the attainment of its own
purpose--'Nature to advantage dressed:' the great end of Art is to make
an impression on the imagination and the feelings. The imitation of
nature frequently does this; sometimes it fails, and sometimes else
succeeds. 'I think, therefore,' says Sir Joshua, 'the true test of all
Art is not solely whether the production is a true copy of Nature, but
whether it answers the end of Art, which is to produce a pleasing effect
upon the mind.'

Of the contracted ideas of high-finishers, I think excessive labour is
excessive weakness, and vigour can never come from such a source: making
every brick of a house appear, has nothing to do with the harmony of the
architecture; nothing is so monotonous as these detail and 'bit
painters;' their works, taken collectively, are universally effectless
and good for nothing; it is, at best, overwrought ingenuity--not Art.
The combinations must be generalized; some object in the foreground may
partake of this quality of finish, but if other parts of the composition
be not proportionably slighted, there will be a want of general harmony.
No separate part should possess any preponderance sufficient to absorb
the interest of the rest. An analogous combination will alone invest the
whole with the charm it conveys collectively, and infinite labour is
saved. The high excellencies of painting belong invariably to harmonious
combinations.

We frequently observe in the best works, the great effect produced by
slightness, which, by a sort of magic, at a distance, assumes complete
forms: this is scarcely ever the effect of chance or accident, however
it may be made to appear so, but the result of deep and matured study,
and a steady attention to the _general_ effect, produced, perhaps, by a
few happy scratches, and is 'more laborious to the mind than the highest
finishing would be,' accomplishing the purpose intended by a seemingly
intuitive perception of what was required, and communicating a lively
and vigorous impression to the minds of others by the energies of their
own. Extreme labour seldom fails to produce heaviness, while that
fascinating lightness of effect is universally occasioned by the absence
of it. The slightest and most undetermined manner of treatment often
succeeds in producing the best _general_ effect, which effect is as
often wholly defeated in the attempt at _finishing_ and blending the
colours and details. Some morsel or other is beautifully preserved, but
the _whole_ is lost.

The _general_ effect of the stars is all order--all repose; but the
_means_ by which this effect is produced is nowhere to be traced!

'The highest style has the least common nature in it:' 'Good sense is
not always _common_ sense.'

'We may depart from Nature for a greater advantage. Nature is frequently
narrow and confined in her principles, and must as frequently be
departed from. Pictures should be painted to give pleasure, and every
object which stands in the way of that pleasure _must_ be removed!'

Rubens thought the eye should be satisfied above all other
considerations; he, therefore, painted his reflects stronger than Nature
would warrant; thereby producing harmony from contrast and variety.

Reynolds, speaking of Claude Lorraine, says, 'Claude Lorraine was
convinced that taking nature as he found it seldom produced beauty: his
pictures are a composition of the various draughts which he had
previously made from various beautiful scenes and prospects.'

The harmony proceeding from contrast and variety of colour is more
conspicuous in the landscapes of Rubens, and the gorgeous colouring of
the landscapes of Titian, than in Claude--'departing from Nature for a
greater advantage!' As in the moonlights of Vanderneer, the pictures of
Cuyp and Both, and our own glorious Wilson, Gainsborough, &c. In
choosing from among these great manners, we must lean on the observation
of Reynolds, when he says, 'An artist is obliged for ever to hold the
balance in his hand, by which he must decide the value of different
qualities; that when some fault must be committed, he may choose the
least.'

There is, beyond all doubt, a grandeur in _general_ ideas, that the
narrow conceptions of _individual_ nature can never attain to.

Any subject, however mean or degraded in itself, but painted on a great
principle, will acquire splendour and dignity from association.

'Look at Nature! Nature is the true school of Art!' is the universal cry
of the vulgar and uneducated. But before their perception is capable of
_even seeing Nature_, as it is spread out before them, they will have
much to acquire of _Art_: for although Nature is before their eyes, to
them it is a closed book! This is no new position, for, says Sir Joshua,
'If our judgment is to be directed by narrow, vulgar, untaught, or
rather ill-taught reason, we must prefer a portrait by Denner, or any
other high finisher, to those of Titian or Vandyck; and a landscape by
Vanderheyden to those of Titian or Rubens; for they are certainly more
_exact_ representations of Nature. If we suppose a view of nature
represented with all the truth of the camera obscura, and the same
scene represented by a great artist, how _little and mean_ will the one
appear in comparison of the other, when no superiority is supposed from
the choice of the subject.'

And again,--'Amongst the painters, and writers on painting, there is one
maxim universally admitted and continually inculcated. Imitate Nature is
the invariable rule; but I know none who have explained in _what manner_
this rule is to be understood: the consequence of which is, that every
one takes it in the most obvious sense, that objects are represented
naturally when they have such relief that they seem _real_. It may
appear strange perhaps to hear this rule disputed; but it must be
considered that, if the excellence of a painter consisted only in this
kind of imitation, painting must lose its rank, and be no longer
considered as a liberal art, and sister to poetry--this imitation being
merely _mechanical_, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to
succeed best! for the painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in
which the understanding has no part;--and what pretence has the art to
claim kindred with poetry, but its powers over the imagination? To this
power the painter of genius directs _his_ aim; in this sense _he studies
Nature_, and often arrives at the end, even by being unnatural, in the
confined sense of the word. The grand style of painting requires this
minute attention to be carefully avoided, and must be kept as separate
from it as the style of poetry from that of history. Poetical ornaments
destroy that air of truth and plainness which ought to characterize
history; but the very being of poetry consists in departing from this
_plain narration_, and adopting every ornament that will warm the
imagination.

'The Italian attends only to the invariable--the great and general ideas
which are fixed and inherent in _universal_ Nature; the Dutch, on the
contrary, to _literal_ truth, and a minute exactness in the detail, as I
may say, of Nature _modified_ by accident. The attention to these petty
peculiarities is the very cause of this naturalness, so much admired in
the Dutch pictures, which, if we suppose to be a beauty, is certainly of
a lower order, that ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind,
since one cannot be obtained but by departing from the other.'

With the most practised hands, in painting from Nature on the spot, the
_hue and character of the artist_ will frequently pervade all his
efforts to paint nothing but what _he sees_ spread out before him; and
his system, prevailing even to this extent, has this advantage, that
accustomed as he is to consider Nature _generally_, his performance may
resemble Nature _more at another time_ than that one he painted it at!
as Nature seldom looks the _same_ two hours together.

The simple music of a bird may as well be compared to the most refined
compositions of the Italian school, that requires the most industrious
efforts to reach: both originate in Nature, but the latter is 'Nature to
advantage dressed.'

Nature, the best source we can go to for instruction, is '_always at
hand_!'--'but Nature herself is not to be too closely copied. There are
excellencies in the art of painting beyond what is commonly called the
imitation of Nature. A mere copyer of Nature can never produce any thing
great; for the works of Nature are full of disproportion.' It is the
_beau ideal_ of the mind alone that reaches this great end. It is
_comparing_ our observations _on_ Nature, that enables us to acquire
this ideal perfection. It is to skill in _selection_, and the separating
her beauties from her defects, that qualifies us to reach this grand
acquisition, which cannot be reduced to practical principles; but, by
being enabled to discover those defects, we learn the art of supplying
her wants. 'Correcting Nature by herself--her imperfect state by her
more perfect,'--'and Nature denies her instructions to none who desire
to become her pupils.'

Young people, and even men and women, who make respectable, and often
very excellent _copies_ from the works of others, frequently show me
their 'sketches from Nature;'--Oh, if Nature could see them--for, to say
they are in general perfectly frightful, is to use the gentlest
expression. I invariably trace, in these productions, their
_individuality_ is the cause of their unsuccess; and the incapacity to
_even see Nature generally_, which must be necessary before they can
paint her so.

Thus to abstract as it were her beauties, and to form _one general idea_
of them, in that abstract, is to enlarge the sphere of our
understandings, and invest our works with that intellectual grandeur
which _alone_ lifts them above the efforts of common minds, by the
nobleness of conception, and a higher degree of excellence: while the
student may be assured that his reputation will become permanent and
universal, from this system of contemplating Nature in the abstract, and
ennoble all he undertakes. His picture will have a mental effect over
all that is mechanical.

Dr. Johnson has most ably explained the hypothesis, so much urged by his
friend, of the necessity of _generalizing_ our ideas of Nature, when he
says, 'It is not to examine the individual, but the species; to remark
general properties and large appearances: he does not number the streaks
of the tulip, nor describe the different shades of the forest; he is to
exhibit in his portraits of nature such permanent and striking features,
as recall the original to _every_ mind; and must neglect the minuter
discriminations, which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness.'

The idleness of laborious _finish_, opposed to the overwhelming majesty
of _breadth_, cannot be better explained.




ON RULES.


RULES are not principles: Polite learning is only a more specious
ignorance: it may do something to make a connoisseur, but will never
make a practical painter; while a little knowledge of _principles_ will
go farther to make a connoisseur!

A foreign _philosopher_ says, 'A thinking man is a depraved animal.'
Both rules and principles are the healthy results of thought,
notwithstanding.--Condensation and simplification--shorter methods, and
conclusive deductions, are among the results obtained from them.

'There are rules for the conduct of the artist, which are fixed and
invariable. The arts would lie open for ever to caprice and casualty, if
those who are to judge of their excellencies had no settled principles
by which they are to regulate their decisions, and their merits or
defects were to be determined by unguided fancy;' which, in the end,
would deprive art of its existence.

Reynolds says, 'Whatever is done well is done by some certain rule,
otherwise it could not be repeated.'

Rules, pursued beyond their _intention_, become the fetters of the mind:
among architects for instance--whose very profession should be a matter
of light and shade--I have never known, nor heard of one in my life, who
ever obtained even the veriest mediocrity in painting, however otherwise
talented. This can only be attributable to their adherence to the
rigidity of their rules in their details, beyond their _general_
intention.

Much should oftentimes be conceded to the suggestions of strong
inclination in an ingenious and intelligent mind, whose impulses are
irresistible, and which any peculiar method would only clog and fetter,
by thwarting its particular turn--which, after all succeeds best its own
way; and arrives at the same end by its own impulses. Rules apply more
properly to such as are not invested with these powers: or, with the
same incentives, have not the strength.




ON COPYING.


A SYSTEM of copying, or rather borrowing from the works of others, some
_point_, 'from which the imagination may rise and take flight,' is a
manner commonly pursued by our best painters. This method is that of
really making it our own, by judicious efforts, without the risk of the
imputation of plagiarism, which I shall endeavour to make appear.

By the contemplation of what is good in others, 'a sense of the higher
excellencies of art will by degrees dawn on the imagination; at every
review that sense will become more and more assured, and the artist will
then find no difficulty in fixing in his own mind the principles by
which the impression is produced; which he will feel and practice,
though they are perhaps too delicate and refined to be conveyed to the
mind by any other means.'

Sir Joshua, speaking of the great examples of Art, says, 'These are the
materials on which Genius is to work, and without which the strongest
intellect may be fruitlessly or deviously employed. By studying these
authentic models, that idea of excellence which is the result of the
accumulated experience of past ages, may be at once acquired; and the
tardy and obstructed progress of our predecessors may teach us a shorter
and easier way. The student perceives at one glance the principles which
many artists have spent their whole lives in ascertaining; and,
satisfied with their effect, is spared the painful investigation by
which they came to be known and fixed.'

The greatest painters are continually making such memoranda as may be
called copying, either from the works of antiquity, or those of their
cotemporaries.

Beginning with nothing, we _must_ borrow until we can pay the debt.

'The sagacious imitator does not content himself with merely remarking
what distinguishes the different manner or genius of each master; he
enters into the contrivance in the composition, how the masses of lights
are disposed, the means by which the effect is produced, how artfully
some parts are lost in the ground, others boldly relieved, and how all
these are mutually altered and interchanged, according to the reason and
scheme of the work. He admires not the harmony of colouring alone, but
examines by what artifice one colour is a foil to its neighbour; he
looks close into the tints, examines of what colours they are composed,
till he has formed clear and distinct ideas, and has learnt to see in
what harmony and good colouring consists. What is learned in this manner
from the works of others becomes really our own, sinks deep, and is
never forgotten.

'If the excellence of a picture consists in its general effect, it would
be proper to make slight sketches of the machinery and general
management of the work. Those sketches should be kept always by you for
the regulation of your style. Instead of copying the touches of those
great masters, copy only their conceptions. Instead of treading in their
footsteps, endeavour only to keep the same road. Labour to invent on
their general principles and way of thinking. Possess yourself with
their spirit: and work yourself into a belief that your picture is to be
seen and criticised by them, when completed. Even an attempt of this
kind will rouse your powers.' Again--'But as mere enthusiasm will carry
you but a little way, what I propose is, that you should enter into a
kind of competition, by painting a similar subject, and making a
companion to any picture that you consider as a model; place them
together and compare them carefully, and you will detect the
deficiencies in your own more sensibly than by any other means of
instruction. The true principles of painting will mingle with your
thoughts, which will be certain and definitive, and sink deep into the
mind. This method of comparing your own efforts with those of some great
master, is indeed a severe and mortifying task; to go voluntarily to a
tribunal where he knows his vanity must be humbled, and all
self-approbation must vanish, requires not only great resolution, but
great humility! but it is attended with this alleviating circumstance,
which abundantly compensates for the mortification of present
disappointment, every discovery he makes, every acquisition to knowledge
he attains, seems to proceed from his _own_ sagacity, and thus he
acquires confidence in himself, sufficient to keep up the resolution of
perseverance. And we prefer those instructions which we have given to
ourselves, from our affection to the instructor.'

The perception of errors shortens the road to truth. 'Cease to follow
any master when he ceases to excel.' Avoid that narrowness and poverty
of conception which attends a bigoted admiration of a single master! We
will suppose 'those perfections which lie scattered among various
masters, are now united in one general idea, which is henceforth to
regulate his taste and enlarge his imagination, extending his capacity
to more general instructions, he must now consider the _art_ itself as
his master. At all times, and in all places, he should be employed in
laying up materials for the exercise of his art, to be combined and
varied as occasion may require; seeking only to know and combine
excellence, wherever it is to be found, into one idea of perfection; and
employing the most subtle disquisition to discriminate perfections that
are incompatible with each other. The habitual dignity which long
converse with the _greatest minds_ has imparted to him, will display
itself in all his attempts, and he will stand among his instructors, not
as an imitator, but a rival. The more extensive your acquaintance is
with the works of those who have excelled, the more extensive will be
your powers of invention; and, what will appear still more like a
paradox, the more original will be your conceptions.'

Again:--'By the devotion with which many study a particular master, they
acquire a habit of thinking the same way; therefore, let his faults
always be your best instructors.'

The firm, correct and determined pencil of many of the Dutch masters,
cannot be too strongly recommended for imitation. I speak of the
mechanism of painting: the expression, force and energy they gave to
their works, from the decision of touch and handling, which enabled them
to give that look of nature and freshness of reality to their studies,
that forms so great an excellence in their performances. The study of
Ostade, Teniers, and many others of that school, cannot fail to enrich
our own works with variety of invention, and 'those who have not looked
out for themselves in this manner from time to time, have not only
ceased to advance and improve, but have invariably gone backward, from
being left without resources;' and having gathered nothing, have nothing
to work upon--from an inability to infuse into their own works what they
have neglected to learn from the contemplation of the works of others.
It places you under the guidance of your own judgment and discretion by
comparison with the best efforts of others; it enables you 'to
criticise, compare, and rank their works in your own estimation, as they
approach to, or recede from, the standard of perfection which you have
formed in your own mind--but which those masters themselves have taught
you to make, and which you will cease to make with correctness when you
cease to study them. It is their excellencies which have taught you
their defects, and you will, henceforth, be your own teacher.' Be
cautious against the 'imaginary powers of native genius, and sufficiency
in yourself, which seldom fails to produce either a vain confidence or a
sluggish despair, both equally fatal to all proficiency.

'Study, therefore, the great masters for ever: study nature attentively,
but always with those masters in your company; consider them as models
which you are to imitate, and, at the same time, as _rivals_ with whom
you are to contend;' and you will insensibly come to feel and reason
like them, and find taste imperceptibly formed in _your own mind_.

By the industry of the hand you will acquire good manner, but it is to
the industry of the mind you will be indebted for any solid reputation.

'He who does not know others, knows himself very imperfectly.'

_Wrongly directed_ industry is a dangerous delusion. Too much copying
will, on the other hand, greatly tend to impair our mental exertions,
render them servile and mechanical, and confine, at the most, our
aspirings to a very limited sphere, while it is utterly at variance in
establishing any claim of our own to originality or distinction.
Studying the _genius_ of a fine work of art, its _general_ forms, its
combinations, its chiaroscuro, its colour and effect; and with all these
on our minds, going home and making a companion to it, is a noble and
lofty aim, frequently attended with entire success. This excellent
practice, diligently persevered in, at length brings our sympathies
into a corresponding train of ideas with those we would emulate; and if
we cannot reach them in their various excellencies, so we succeed in
lighting our torch at those glorious beams of old, our advances are at
least entitled to that respect they universally meet with. An abject
imitation is of all things that I should avoid. But that _reading of_,
and conversing with a picture, that almost places us under a delusion,
during the time we are under its influence; that associating our
feelings and ideas--that blending of our aspirations with the master
mind that thought and wrought so well, is the surest hemisphere in which
we can hope to think and paint like them. The student's perceptions
become annealed by the influence of the charm that invests him: he
aspires to a higher latitude of excellence: he beholds before him the
ripest fruit on the topmost palm, and he knows the principles and the
laws by which he _can_ reach it, and _does_ reach it, by the agency of,
and the gradual developement of the simple rules he commenced with.

It often happens, and it is my opinion, that a careless scribbler, who
dashes at everything, stands quite as good a chance of becoming
original, as the most careful copyist ever will; after the very first
attempts, too much precision stands sadly in the way of boldness,
freedom and dexterity. After being enabled to draw with some degree of
accuracy, _mannerism_ will invariably be the result of the extreme care
so universally recommended by most writers on the subject; and hence
that excess of it we daily observe; for it requires but a very
common-place observer, on entering an exhibition, to point to a picture
and name the painter at the same moment: presuming he had ever seen a
work by the same artist before.

Reynolds says of copying, 'I consider general copying as a delusive kind
of industry; the student falls into the dangerous habit of imitating,
without selecting, and of labouring without any determinate object; as
it requires no effort of the mind, he sleeps over his work, and those
powers of invention and composition which ought particularly to be
called out, and put in action, lie torpid and lose their energy for want
of exercise. How incapable those are of producing anything of their own
who have spent much of their time in making finished copies, is well
known to all who are conversant with our art.'




ON THE LIGHT AND SHADE OF COLOUR: AND REFLEXES.


COLOUR is called in aid of Light and Shade, to dress and ornament it;
but not to distort and disfigure it.

Extending either the light or shadow by means of _colour_, is perhaps
one of the best ways of combining both.

Breadth of light and shade may involve _many_ colours in its
arrangement, so they are divided into imposing masses; variety of colour
is often necessary to explain the localities of a work; and, that they
may not appear confused, light colours should be sociable with light
colours; and dark ones with others of equal density: their repetitions
invading each other throughout the chain.

Great _intimacy_ of union, in the colour of the lights, will likewise
produce breadth; so as to make a large and connected mass appear, at a
little distance, as one graduated light.

Colours may stand either for colours or shadows; so that they be of
sufficient density, and sufficiently opposed to light ones.

But, if you do not depend on the colour of the picture for effect of
light and shade, _much less_ intensity of colours will be sufficient.

The _strongest_ colours are sometimes most successfully employed in
uniting the light with the shade.

In the conduct of light, I conceive the objects which receive its
influence, should, of all things, as much as possible, partake of the
colour of that light, as seeming more like an extension of it, and
looking more natural:--thus, in a church, all the parts receiving the
light from a painted glass window, would partake of its varieties of
colour. The rising and setting of the sun turns all to gold, by the same
alchymy, while it acts as an uniting link in carrying the colour through
the picture: these, in their turn, throw their radiating reflects in a
thousand other directions, keeping up and sustaining the communicative
principle of the whole--imparted by the primitive cause and its agency.

The colouring of a picture should always be in _harmony_ with its light
and shade.

The lights will require to be overcharged with colour, if the shadows
are too heavy and loaded; on their transparency depends the beauty of
both.

The shadows must be _darker_ than the shadowed sides of the objects
which project them; for the reason explained in the article on Light and
Shade.

The masses of light should be of warm colours, yellow or red, supported
by blue or grey in the shadows; a very small proportion of which will
generally be found sufficient.

The _real_ colour of an object is only seen in the light. All shadows
should partake, more or less, of the colour of the light. That shadow
will appear the darkest that is surrounded by the brightest light.

The nearer a colour is to the eye, the purer it will appear; arraying
itself as it retires, with the colour of the air interposed between it;
consequently, the purest colours should only occur in foregrounds,--where
the shadows, for the same reason, would likewise be darkest.

The colour of a light will be stopped at the part where any reflex
reaches it. We see mountains covered with snow, at sunset, from the
effulgence of its rays, make the horizon appear all on fire.

Distant mountains appear more deeply blue, according to the extent of
the azure of the air interposed between them and the eye. All masses in
the distance partake, more or less, of this quality.

'The vapours mixing with the air, in the lower region near the earth,
render it thick, and apt to reflect the sun's rays on all sides, while
the air above remains dark; and because light (white) and darkness
(black) mixed together, compose the azure that becomes the colour of the
sky--which is lighter or darker, in proportion as the air is more or
less mixed with damp vapours.'

Shadows produced by the redness of the setting sun, will be blue; from
the reflexes of that part of the air not illumined by its rays.

If the sun is overcast, the lights will be general; so will the shadows.
If the sunbeams burst out, and strike the objects in a landscape, the
shadows will then be dark in _proportion_ to the lights. The brilliant
edges of the clouds all assist the general illumination; and all objects
in the light, will participate of _their_ colour from reflexion. On the
contrary, those parts not included in the range of rays, remain the
colour of the _air_.

The air partakes less of the azure of the sky as it approaches the
horizon, being more remote from the sun than that part of it above our
heads, which receives a larger portion of its rays. The horizon will be
light, while, in ascending to the meridian, it becomes, from this cause,
deeper and bluer. So the nature of all colours diminish in proportion as
density of air is interposed between them and the eye.

Reflected colours, thrown from, and upon, equal angles, will be the
strongest: the most distinct, being produced by the shortest ray.

No reflected colour will have the brilliance of a direct one. For, if a
reflected light from a blue object be thrown on a yellow one, the result
would be green:--green being composed of blue and yellow. This
circumstance refers to most mixtures.

It only happens to those colours which are on a _level_ with the eye,
that their gradation is in proportion to their distance. As to those of
elevation, they are influenced by the quality of the air they are seen
through.

Colours, whose nearest approach is to black, as they retire into
distance, partake most of the azure of the air:--and those colours most
dissimilar to black, preserve their proper colour as they recede. The
golden lights on distant mountains or fields will best explain this.
'The green, therefore, of the fields will change sooner into blue, than
yellow or white, which will preserve their natural colour at a greater
distance than that, or even red.'

'It may happen that a colour does not alter, though placed at different
distances, when the thickness of the air and the distance are in the
same inverse proportion.'

_Masses_ of shadow carry the strongest part of their colour to the
greatest distance; as when trees appear thick together, accumulating the
shadow on each other, they become darker by multiplying those shadows.

'The darker a mountain is in itself,' says Leonardo, 'the bluer it will
appear at a great distance. The highest part will be the darkest, being
more woody; because woods cover a great many shrubs and other plants,
which never receive the light. Near the tops of those mountains, where
the air is thinner and purer, the darkness of the woods will make it
appear of a deeper azure than at the bottom, where the air is thicker.'

'In general, all objects that are darker or lighter than the air are
discoloured by distance, which changes their quality, so that the
lighter appears darker, and the darker lighter.'

Colours are more or less _entirely_ lost at a great distance from the
eye, according to the purity or density of the air through which they
are revealed, or as they are more or less elevated from the earth,
merging as they retire into a general grey, occasioned by the quantity
of the intervening air. In countries where the air is thin, colours are
discernible at great distances, but still tinged with the colour of that
air.

The _darkest_ colours, in distance, will be most of all impregnated with
the colour of the air. So will the _strongest_ real or accidental
shadows.

Colours and outline are best defined on objects placed _out_ of the
strong light of the sun, and its reflexes. In sunshine, both are
operated on by refraction, which occasions that chaotic indistinctness
so painful for the eye to dwell on long together.

Every body, on which light falls, reflects a part of it back again. Any
thing red, held before a looking-glass, gives back a portion of its own
colour with great vividness; as a glass would throw the sun's ray on a
wall.

The real colour of polished surfaces are lost in the colour of the light
that falls on them. This likewise applies to all metals.

All smooth or shining surfaces repel the light they receive, throwing
their reflexes on any thing opposed to them.

Polished surfaces, as in plate or armour, do not show their real
colours. The reflected colours of the sun or air that shines on them
confuse their own. Rough surfaces, on the contrary, retain their natural
colours most.

Suppose the sun to equally illumine two sides of a street, as it passes
its centre, and on one side is a red house, and opposite to it a white
one, the white one would be impinged with the reflection from the action
of the light on the red one: thus, all proximity of colours affect each
other, in the light, in the manner of reflexes, declining as they
recede. The reflected lights in folds of silk draperies illustrate this
phenomenon best.

Compare the shadows thrown on different colours with each other, by
placing a number of coloured materials in a dark place, the colours of
shadows being regulated by the objects giving and receiving them.

Examine well the colours in the shadows of flowers; they present the
most excellent combinations.

All colours, as at night, may be lost in that of the general shadow,
presuming it dark enough to destroy all reflexes.

Colours reflected on by their _opposites_ will become neutralized; as
green against red, purple against yellow, &c.

The shadows on all objects partake of the colour of the light, or are
qualified by other lights throwing their reflects into them.

The lightness or darkness of shadows are entirely regulated by the
colour of the objects on which they fall.

An object painted in a light colour will be more or less light,
according to the strength of its shadow, from the consequences attending
opposition.

So a light figure, laid upon a light background, but differing in
colour--as a warm object on a grey sky--assists, in the greatest degree,
the preservation of the breadth. Opposition of colour is, perhaps, of
most use under these circumstances.

Colours on the figures or parts brought into notice by opposition may be
sometimes applied with sufficient _depth_ and intensity as to
advantageously take the place of _shadows_ or darks.

Light and shade may be produced by the influence of _colours alone_,
judiciously applied; the reds and yellows supporting the lights, while
the blues, greys, and cold colours form the retiring portions, or such
as would otherwise be in shadow.

Suppose a picture, composed of one part shade and the other light--the
light being warm, and the shadow composed of cold colours--a red or
warm-coloured figure laid against the shadowed side, and a blue one
brought out from the light, would, in addition to possessing the
greatest force of colour, have a spirited and imposing effect. But the
_contrary_ treatment would possess the greatest breadth and repose;--a
dark figure laid on the mass of shadow (a point of which, being darker
than the rest, would gather it together), and a light one on the light,
having a point still higher in colour than the ground.

Rich, deep, and warm shadows are required to support strong coloured
lights. So, strong colours are equally useful in focussing the shadows,
or in giving them variety.

That beautiful diffusion of _aeriel_ and fluctuating _pearly_
reflections, that play equally over the surfaces of the strongest
colours, shadows, and lights, in the tenderest hues and forms, and with
which all nature appears invested, should engage our deepest attention
and enquiry, as their properties so softly blend and break down the
harshness and influence of positive colour, and the asperity of opposing
tints, by tempering them with their airy and luminous sweetness.

If the general harmony or _hue_ of a picture is warm, the deepest
shadows should be warm also; while the _strongest_ colour, being brought
into the middle space, will serve to connect both the light and the
shadow. Indian red, in most instances, should be the mixing medium,
using cold colours _sparingly_, and _only_ where they are wanted as a
_foil_; as the greens of trees are set off from the rich brown shadows,
producing a splendid effect, and bringing the hot and cold colours into
harmony.

Colours, forming the middle tint and shadows, should always be warm;
though the light may be cold, the effect will be beautiful.

Warm shadows will support the _strongest_ colours.

I generally observe that Titian, Rubens, and the best colourists, use
their reds in the shadows, at once to support and give them
brilliance;--for when it happens that the shadows of a picture are
wholly made up of warm colours, the effect is sure to be splendid,
though the lights are cold;--considering red, perhaps, too _strong_ a
colour to interfere with the _light_, at the risk of destroying its
breadth. Their manner was often that of deepening the colour as it lost
or absorbed itself in the background.

Every object receiving the light of the sun, receives likewise the
_general_ light, producing _two_ shadows, the darkest one being
occasioned by the sun.

When the horizon is tinged with red by the rays of the setting sun, the
distant shadows, being blue or azure, mingling with the red, produces
purple.

The air between the earth and the sun, when it rises or sets, invests
all objects with a degree of obscurity, which is whiter on the earth
than towards the zenith.

When the vapours descend to the earth at sunset, all objects that the
sun's rays do not reach become confused and dark; but those that are
tinged with its light will appear of the colour of that light, and
distinctly marked in their outlines, though surrounded by obscurity.

The magnificence of the setting sun, gilding with its rays the slopes of
mountains and tops of forests, towns, villages, and waters, while all
below is lost in deep brown, grey, and purple masses, has ever been a
favourite subject with painters of all schools.

The inferior or lower parts of all objects, when the air is thickest on
the earth, will appear farther from the eye than the tops.

In looking down from an eminence on a street or town when the air is
thick, the tops of the buildings will be darker, more distinct and
articulate than the objects placed at the bottom, which, being filled
with air, the tops come off it (as a ground) with more decision.

When the sun is veiled by clouds, in a landscape, the trees receiving a
general light, the darkest parts will be the lowest.

Although the trees and fields may be of the same colour, the trees will
always seem darker than the fields, from their quantity of shadow,
notwithstanding every blade of grass has _its_ shadow.

The tops of all mountains will be more clearly defined than their bases,
becoming more and more so as they rise into the thinner and purer
regions of the air; and, as they still rise to their highest summits,
the more they develope their form and colours.

All buildings will appear darker at the top than the bottom, from the
lower parts being surrounded with thicker air of a lighter colour.

Buildings, or other objects, seen through a fog, only develope those
sides which are reflected on by the sun; the other parts remain the
colour of the fog. Beautiful combinations of silvery grey and golden
reflections, on foliage, windows, boats, water, &c. may be made under
these circumstances. As the outline becomes confused or lost, so the
objects seen through it acquire magnitude. The fog and the object being
both near the eye, its density will occasion the object to appear at a
great distance.

Objects of all sorts, seen through rain, have an indistinct and
undetermined outline, sometimes becoming greatly confused.

If the observer is placed _between_ the sun and a cloud of dust or
smoke, they will appear dark. If they are seen between the sun and the
eye, they will be light and transparent. This equally applies to the
effects produced by fog.

Some artists represent water very dark or very light. It can neither be
darker nor lighter than the surrounding objects which occasion its
shadows.

If water is muddy or thick, the shadows of a bridge or boat would be
projected _on_ it, as it would be on the ground. But if, on the
contrary, the water is clear and transparent, all reflections are formed
in it, as they would be in a looking-glass, and no lateral shadows
occur.

How much _bluer_ the sea appears from on board ship than it does from
the shore; because, _at sea_, the blue of the waves is reflected on the
eye.

All objects in the distance, which are near a river or water, will
appear less distinct than those that are remote from it.

All distances should have their outlines confused and unfinished, while
foreground objects should be bold and determined.

Objects appear most remote that are divested of their outline, as in
Turner's pictures--giving the idea of space and largeness.

Of the beauty of reflexes, Da Vinci says: 'If you mean the proximity of
one colour should give beauty to another that terminates near it,
observe the rays of the sun in the composition of the rainbow, the
colours of which are generated by the falling rain, when each drop in
its descent takes every colour of the bow.'

Displaying the various colours that compose either the light or the
shade, or lights and darks, that are to stand as such, into _large_ and
subtly interwoven portions,--the blending and the opposition of hot and
cold colours, and of light with dark, together with strict attention to
their strength and relations (for the most discordant and opposite
properties will produce harmony, under certain circumstances and
arrangement), so that the _masses_ of light and shade, and the _breadth_
of the whole, are not disturbed,--are the leading circumstances that
should engage the anxious attention.




HARMONY AND CONTRAST.


HARMONY, as in Nature, is the agreeable _accordance_ of the various
colours that form the _parts_ of a scene into a _whole_; divested, in
their dispersion, of their harshness by the everywhere surrounding
atmosphere: this may be tested by holding a piece of silk, the _exact
colour_ of the grass at our feet, up against a field, when the field
will become _grey_ in comparison.

The exact degree of strength, or of tone, greatly tend to reconcile the
harmony of a picture.

Harmony consists more in the power of bringing colours together, than in
the mere arrangement of the colours themselves.

Burnet, in his excellent Treatise, says--'When a picture is composed of
the two _extremes_ of hot and cold, we are certain of having employed
the whole strength of the palette; and, if judiciously used to assist
the chiaroscuro, an harmonious union will be kept up between these
opposite qualities, more forcible and splendid than by the _intervention
of middle tint_;' but immediately after he adds--'In producing variety
and contrast, we ought never to lose sight of that imperceptible harmony
arising from the union of two colours in producing a _third_, composed
of both. Whether this be founded on any law existing in optics, or is
merely the result of that sympathy which one colour has to another in
producing harmony, we know not.'

Any colour _too often_ repeated, will destroy its value in proportion to
its repetition; but a continuation of the same colour carried with tact
through the picture, from the highest light to the deepest shade, and
strongly relieved by some colour of a different nature, produces the
beautiful effect so admired in the Dutch and Flemish sketches of Vandyke
and others; arising from the rich brown gradations, brought up to a
'high pitch' of red or yellow, or yellowish white, and subdued by a
little cool grey, merging into blue or green.

Strong colours are generally more usefully applied in supporting the
general whole, than by being employed on the more prominent parts of it.
They are equally useful in focussing the shadows, or in giving them
variety.

If the mixture of many colours be unharmonious and disturbed, perplexity
and confusion will be the result.

When the general character of a picture is of a cool grey, its influence
upon the eye is of a very agreeable description, from its tender and
soft transitions; but its spirit is roused into energy at once by the
introduction of a warm colour; increasing, by its opposition of
character, the harmony of the whole. A red cloak on a figure crossing a
field will explain this.

In Du Fresney I find we 'are not to let two hostile colours meet without
a medium to unite them.' Notwithstanding which, we see the contrary
practised with the greatest success;--blue brought against red, for
instance, the value of each increasing as they antipathize.

The hot and cold colours--the balancing power produced by their
combinations--the arrangement that gives to every object its _place_ and
value, are the principal circumstances that should engage the attention,
when contemplating the works of the best colourists, or on gazing at a
scene in Nature.

If the colouring of a picture is _too_ harmonious, it will want
solidity.




EFFECT, ACCIDENT, RELIEF, AND KEEPING.


IN Effect, the means are widely different indeed which lead to the same
result! Rembrandt, with his concentrated light and wide diffusion of
shade--Rubens, and his school, with his splendid extension of light and
of colour--Vandyke, with the Dutch and Flemish painters--Titian--all
arrive at the same end, although by the most opposite means. Some aim at
a particular effect; others at a general one, proceeding from different
combinations, and different views and ideas. All effects should be
consistent with the subject treated. The effect will be more or less bad
as the parts which are to constitute it are more or less scattered or
diffused. Masses of light, supported and brought out by masses of
shadow, are the surest means of producing it. Effect is procured by the
strongest opposition, and sometimes by the reverse. Arrangement and
Expression is, in historical composition, much the same thing that
Effect is in landscape-painting. On the other hand, particular effects
mostly arise from circumstance. Sudden and startling effects are not
unfrequently produced by a piece of charcoal on brown or grey paper;
beautiful ones by the simple operation of the black lead pencil or
stump, until we trace it up to the whole range of the palette, in the
most splendid and magnificent efforts of colour.

Every part of a picture should occasion pleasure in detail! If we are
fascinated with the colour of the highest or prevailing light, the most
anxious care should be exercised that its influence does not destroy our
admiration of the others: to avoid this prejudice, the principal light,
or colour of it, should not be so influential as to prevent the eye
being gently led away from it, by the repetition of a softer grade of
its own, to others of a less imposing quality: that _must_ of necessity
be there, to give value to, and influence the importance of the
principal.

Effect consists in either lights and shadows, or _colours_, so massed
and blended in their arrangement, as to produce breadth.

The greatest power of Effect is often produced from the most simple
materials. All the force of the palette, and all the strength of the
master, is not unfrequently called into action by no other materials
than a straight horizon meeting the sky, supported by an undulating line
or two; and exemplifying the most scientific manoeuvres in the
management of breadth, and in diversity of colour, on which the eye
loves to dwell, and repose from the fatigue occasioned by a repetition
of forms.

A dark object, placed against the most retiring or lightest part of the
picture, while it acquires all the startling effect to be derived from
great force, and is a resource so much adopted by the greatest
landscape-painters, often, in my opinion, destroys the whole keeping of
the work. Bringing such strong objects up against the sun, was the great
vice of Claude; Cuyp and Both managed it better, but certainly not
always with success.

KEEPING is a term in art which implies that every object and colour
should be in its place;--the object, its exact space to stand on, and
the colours in strict harmony and accordance; each possessing the exact
_strength_ which belongs to its situation in the picture.

RELIEF, and occasionally CHIARO-SCURO, which, by its arrangement of
light and shade, describes the necessary forms that are to be revealed:
this may likewise be effected by light and dark _colours_ alone, or by
opposition of colours and sharp contrasts.

The highest point or mass of the light, from which the gradations
radiate, should be kept very pure, allowing as little of the shade tint
to insinuate itself as possible.

If the lights of a picture are _few_, it will mainly contribute to its
breadth and repose:--if _many_, or _scattered_, the result will be
confusion. I say, to keep the leading mass of light pure and _clean_,
should employ our deepest attention.

When the attention is to be fixed to a particular object, the degree of
power given to the accessories will alone establish its degree of
consequence: but it must not be wholly insulated; those accessories,
being the medium of its own importance, must contribute all to assist it
to its place, without weakening its force or imparing its character; as
the middle tints find their value and clearness only by the strength of
the lights, and the depths of the darks.

Pictures, painted in a 'light key,' possess many advantages:--

Great breadth of Effect is produced by placing the principal mass of
shadow on, or rather immediately under, the horizon; graduating upwards
into the clouds, and downwards, in a long angle, to a broad light on the
base line; on which a figure or any other object, however small, but
darker than the rest, being placed, will produce an effect that has
become extremely popular of late. This is equally applicable to
landscape or sea pieces; and was a favourite arrangement of A.
Vandervelde. When the picture is mostly made up of half tint, his manner
was to throw all the power of the palette into his figures; bringing
them out strong, dark, and cutting on the foreground; and, in the
retiring groups, diminishing the force as little as possible; keeping
the shadows flat, and a little weaker in colour. This management
produces one of the most powerful daylight effects, though not so aerial;
but the sacrifice of the last is as nothing to the want of the former.
Atmospheric effect is scarcely missed when the whole is on so light a
key, as the quantity of half tint employed renders it.

Most of the Dutch landscape painters seem universally agreed on this
arrangement, as having that beautiful contrast of force and softness we
so often see in coast scenes, and leaving so large a space as two-thirds
of the picture for the luminous forms of the clouds.

Broken heaths, road scenes, corn-fields, boats on the water, with their
forcible and deep shadows, fishermen on the sands, all readily adapt
themselves to this manner; which, likewise, from the light tone that
pervades the whole, requires the strongest opposition and contrast of
colour--so that the colours be carried well through the picture; that
is, if the ground be warm, a figure in blue placed in the foreground
may be carried out by being repeated in the blue of the water, and so
into parts of the sky, &c. And, on the other hand, if the ground be cool
grey, as in a river scene, the boats may be yellow, and the figures red,
carried up and diffused into the warm lights of the sky, or striking on
the sandy shore and distant buildings, and even reaching the birds in
the air--all will help to convey the colours through the work.

In working out this system, let the lights be bright, and their shadows
strong and forcible, keeping the middle tints tender, airy, and
delicate. A few trials on this plan will soon convince the student of
the beauty and real look of daylight it has over many others.

In examining the works of Cuyp, when the picture is painted on a light
key, he is sure to make use of very strong colour, to clear up and give
vigour to the whole, in his figures; serving, at the same time, to
invest the general mass with air, breadth, and extent.

Rembrandt thought it of more consequence to paint light, than the
objects seen by it.

'Titian's great care was to express the general colour, to preserve the
masses of light and shade, and to give, by opposition, the idea of that
solidity which is inseparable from natural objects. When these are
preserved, though the work should possess no other merit, it will have,
in a proper place, its complete effect; but where any of these are
wanting, however minutely laboured the picture may be in detail, the
whole will have a false, and even an unfinished appearance, at whatever
distance, or in whatever light it can be shown. It is in vain to attend
to the variations of tints, if in that attention, the general _hue_ is
lost, or to finish ever so minutely the parts, if the masses are not
observed, or the _whole_ not well put together. And those who will
examine into the artifice, will find it to consist in the power of
_generalizing_, and the shortness and simplicity of the means employed;'
and in fixed principles, our general ideas predominating over our
individual.

Rubens, in his splendid manner, involved all the schools--Roman, Dutch,
and Venetian! yet, with all this magnificence and variety, possessed
repose.

ACCIDENT.--Accident often comes in aid of invention. In nature, all
objects by daylight are equally illumined; the painter has, therefore,
always found it necessary to avail himself of accident, whenever it may
occur: shadows, in particular, reflected upon one object by another;
large floating masses of light or shade thrown across a mountain, a flat
country, or an open sea, by the passing clouds as they sail by; flashes
and streaks of light, as they struggle from between them, &c., are all
adapted to work out the general effect. Where the _forms_ of a
composition are _insufficient_, this is the usual resource, these
accessories generally supplying grandeur and elevation to the scene. All
catching lights should be laid hold of with equal tenacity. The clearing
off of a shower is particularly favourable to this useful auxiliary.




DEXTERITY AND AFFECTATION.


A CONTEMPTIBLE species of affectation in the form of a _dashing
dexterity_--used, in most instances, to confuse and mystify bad drawing,
conceal ignorance of principles, and all the higher excellencies a
painter should have studied and brought to aid his work--has been so
widely diffused of late, that a notice of this splashing attainment may
not be out of place in a work of this kind. I have heard of 'snatching a
grace beyond the reach of art,' but could never comprehend its meaning.

It is 'natural to be more captivated with what is brilliant than with
what is solid, and to prefer splendid negligence to painful and
humiliating exactness.'

Mere novelty and peculiarity, having no other merits, when it ceases to
be new, it ceases to have value.

That which is solely addressed to the _eye_, is certainly inferior to
that which is addressed to the imagination.

If too much indulgence is given to peculiarity, _mannerism_ will be sure
to be the result!

'A facility in composing, a lively and masterly handling, are
captivating qualities to young minds: they endeavour to imitate these
dazzling excellencies, and, after much time spent in the frivolous
pursuit, find, when too late, the difficulty of retreat; and there is
scarce an instance of return to scrupulous labour, after the mind has
been deceived by this fallacious mastery. By this useless industry,
whilst boys, they have arrived at their _utmost perfection_; they have
taken the shadow for the substance; and make the mechanical felicity
the chief excellence of the art, whilst it is one of the most dangerous
sources of corruption. They wish to find some shorter path to
excellence, and hope to obtain the reward of eminence by other means
than those, which the indispensable rules of art have prescribed. But
whatever the force of genius may be, there is no _easy_ method of
becoming a good painter.'

There is no mechanism in painting; for those, who by a clever handling,
possess this quality to the greatest perfection, are rarely found to
excel in the higher realities of art.

It is to the _whole_--the absolute and entire impression--the
disposition of pictorial matter and auxiliaries, that imply ability and
power in their treatment.

Do not let the love of novelty induce you to leave the beaten path of
excellence; for all endeavours to surprise and please by that which is
uncommon or new, will be attended with defeat; a matter, oftener the
result of idleness and caprice, than the striking effect of a mind
well-regulated and devoted to study.

Style, manner, handling, are for the most part matters of tact,
distinguishing one painter from another, quite as much as one man's
manners are known from another's. Where the inferior and subordinate
pursuit of skill in _handling_ or execution is aimed at, it tends
universally to form a _mannerist_; and this is the greatest evil of our
time. Instead of elevating the mind to the quality of the _whole_, it
degenerates into an abject and curious species of imitation of the
parts, or of some one thing in particular the artist feels he can do
cleverly; sacrificing to this 'industrious idleness,' correctness of
drawing, character, expression, and elevation of style. In a word, it is
mechanics, and not art! Grandeur, sublimity, simplicity, all fly from
this one evil.

Style comprehends the whole of a picture, in all its mysterious or
simple workings--its moral character--its elevation, or its degeneracy.

Decision, spirit, and freedom of execution and expertness of handling,
opposed to feeble uncertainty, have great charms, in common with all
excellencies; yet, so delusive is this species of fascination, that it
becomes imperious to be guarded against it. The _end_ must not be
sacrificed to the means!




OF BACKGROUNDS.


'ONE of the principal and most important parts of painting, is the
nature and quality of backgrounds;' from which any round or solid body
is to detach itself; and this may be so contrived that both may be of
the same colour; 'because the convex sides of solid bodies do not
receive the light in the same manner as the ground does, being lighter
or darker than the ground.'

Different colours, or degrees of light in the background, can alone
separate the object from it. They will become more detached as they
differ from the colour of the object to be relieved.

The greatest relief is acquired by a ground of a _neutral_, or
undetermined colour. But the object that is to stand out from it,
depends wholly on its light and shade for relief.

According to the ground which surround colours, they will appear
different to their natures. Flesh will look palest on a red ground: and
a pale colour, redder on a yellow ground: and so on, always deriving
their character from the surrounding one.

If any object in a composition does not sufficiently assert its place,
instead of heightening the colour of it, it is generally more advisable,
as the case may be, to subdue the power of its background.

The outlines of figures should be sketched with either the
shadow-colour, or the colour of the ground, on which they are laid;
strengthening them according to their situations.

A very useful resource, in painting, is often to look at your picture in
a looking-glass, whose reflection is a _copy_ of the picture; and the
picture, being a _copy_ from nature, a kind of analogy is established:
they are both on even superfices, and both give the idea of something
_beyond_ their superfices. In viewing your picture in this manner, keep
one eye shut: seeing from both eyes surround the objects too much.

Looking at your picture through the medium of a glass, blackened on one
side, will, in divesting it of colour, show only its light and shade.
This is a capital way of ascertaining if the latter is right.

In painting, it is a good plan to leave _all you can_ to the
imagination! it is _flattering_ to the beholder; it gives him latitude
for the exertion of his own mind; and _he_ will supply, better than
_you_, what you wanted, entirely to his own satisfaction--and, of
course, to yours: deprive him of this, and you seldom fail to imbue him
with apathy. _His_ imagination assumes characters and forms of its own;
you have set it painting: he _finishes_ your picture, and is happy,
because he has had something to do with it; and he will not quarrel with
you, lest he should blame himself.

Painting should possess 'brilliancy without gaudiness, solidity without
harshness, truth without familiarity, and sweetness without insipidity;
all conjoined in the greatest breadth of colour.'

If a work possess the known and admitted excellencies of painting,
although in the smallest and most moderate degree, it will have the
peculiar appearance of _looking well_, which the want of them would
quite invest with another character. The _faults_ of a great mind,
capable of the greatest beauties, will never appear to have a vulgar
origin.

It is just possible a picture may possess no defects, nor any beauties;
but he who thinks entirely for himself, will give to his work an
appearance of originality; he will be consistent with _himself!_ even
faults will appear with some lustre in those to whom they are quite
natural.

In conclusion, jealously endeavour to ascertain if any thing has been
admitted, or omitted, that, consistent with these rules, may prejudice
the general harmony of the work in the _ensemble_.

If I have made use of any contradictory observations, it was because I
was impressed with the usefulness of their application to the principle
described; in which matter I may take shelter under the noblest
authorities of the Italian, English, or French, who have written on art.
I likewise trust I have said nothing the student will have to unlearn.

In a word, the grandest, the most exalted principle requires no more
_time_ to become master of than the lowest and the worst! And, 'As no
school ever excelled the Dutch--combining in itself all the excellencies
of the Italian--painters should go to the Dutch and Flemish schools to
learn the art of painting, as they would go to a grammar-school to learn
languages.'--'A close examination of their works will give us that
experience of the principles on which they wrought, in a _very_ short
space of time, which cost them ages to ascertain.

'The frequent allusions which every one, who treats of any art, is
obliged to make to others, in order to illustrate and confirm his
principles, sufficiently show their near connexion and inseparable
relation.'

However, 'The great business of study is to form a mind, adapted and
adequate to all times, and to all occasions; to which all nature is then
laid open.'

'The _highest_ point of art is to _conceal_ itself: and the very praises
we lavish on works that are 'true to nature,' only prove the perfection
of art.'

I have taken up the art as I found it in the practice of the most
approved methods: nor have I attempted to support any paradoxes for the
sake of novelty.

Theories herein investigated, and many rules here laid down, many loose
and scattered suggestions and successful results, that 'pass current
from one to another,' I have endeavoured to place in the readiest manner
before the student, that they may become immediately available to his
purpose, or occasionally refresh his memory, without caring whence they
may be derived. Even in the collecting of disjointed materials, a
structure is formed every way calculated to abridge his labours and
shorten the road, however carelessly thrown together; and will, in all
probability, stimulate him to further investigation.

Improve every hour, and the mind will become variously enriched by
systematic study: it will look through Nature with a discriminating
power, even to her minutest productions, but with a refinement of taste
and skill of selection that will reject all that is unworthy. When small
pretension finds a welcome, it usually arises from ignorance in those
who patronize. These persons, in their turn, generally pay the penalty
their errors or conceit bring upon them.

THE AUTHOR OF THIS WORK TEACHES UPON THE PRINCIPLES THEREIN
DEMONSTRATED.




ON WATER-COLOUR.


AS the object of this work was, in the first intention, initiatory, I
shall conclude it by addressing a few words to the student in
water-colour painting;--the more especially as water colour embraces so
many advantages, and as there is no elevated rank in art that it does
not involve in its capabilities.

After soaking and laying the paper,--an operation that must be _seen_ to
be learned,--and assuming you have proceeded to the colouring, it will
be essential that you use two palettes, or tiles; set one with the
colours required separately, not allowing them to run together; then
take sufficient colour up in the brush from each, and mix the tints on
another, kept a little wet that they may mix well together;--cleaning
this tile, as occasion may require, to make fresh tints on.

In the management of the greys, allowing the colours to run into one
another, will produce many accidental and useful tints.

When too much colour has got on the paper, dip a thick short-haired
brush in clean water, and wash into the paper with it, with sufficient
force to blend them more, and remove the superfluous colour. If this
method be not found sufficient, take a sponge, with very little clean
water in it, and pass it lightly over, which will remove all hard edges,
and greatly assist the atmospheric effect:--if this too much generalizes
the colours, supply the sharp markings, as may be required, with a fine
pointed sable, in their positive colours.

This method is not only the quickest way of bringing a drawing into a
finished state, but adds materially to its transparency and solidity;
and may be done at any period of the work.

A good master of the sponge will make several drawings, while one may
be done with the brush alone. The colour will remove most easily when
the surface of the drawing is previously wetted; taking great care, by
keeping the sponge very clean, that none of the green tints float into
the sky.

One colour laid over another, to produce the required tint, is in most
cases better than mixing the tint at once, as it tends more to procure
that 'internal light' so desirable in water-colour painting--taking care
the under colour is dry before the other is floated over it; and always
allowing for the density of the colour beneath qualifying the hue of the
one laid over it. Thus, blue laid upon yellow, produces green; green
over red, grey; and so on.

The slightest quantity of prepared ox-gall will make the colours wash
free from grease; triflingly reducing the brilliancy, but fixing the
wash more permanently.

_Flatness_ of tint is a matter of great consequence, and of equal
difficulty; and is considered a great excellence, as the clearness and
beauty of the gradations mainly depend on it. All mechanical means to
produce it will betray themselves;--regulated by any such principle, a
blue sky would become a tea-tray! Nature distinctly rejects all that is
mechanical: skill alone will enable the student to overcome this
difficulty, in addition to observing its process by a professor.

Meditate well the mixture before applying it; then dash it on with the
greatest decision,--always at once, and not backwards and forwards, and
the greatest clearness will be the result.

The greater the diversity of colour, from the transparency of most
colours in water, so much more will be its resemblance to nature.

Wiping out the lights, such as the foliage of trees, or any other forms
required, is performed by first wetting the part or form to be taken
out, with the brush--applied as it would be in painting--and, after the
gloss on the water has subsided, with a clean piece of cotton rag or the
pocket handkerchief, folded on the fore finger, the colour intended to
be removed must be whisked out with some smart degree of force: and in
the event of the light not coming out clean and sharp enough (from
perhaps being too dry), the application of the India-rubber to the part
will effect it. The colours intended are then laid over the parts so
wiped out.




OF TINTS.


MAKING good Tints has ever been a matter of extreme difficulty, great
perseverance, and too often entire loss of time; and, in the event of
success occasionally attending the student's exertions, it is a thousand
to one he never gets them twice alike; for that which is done by
_accident_ cannot be repeated. The very difficulty attending them, from
want of knowledge of those colours that blend well and harmonize in
their natures, and the many requisite to charge the memory with, renders
them so easily forgotten, that few but professors ever achieve the
object sought.

To obviate this,--to save the student's time, that he may devote the
more to the attainment of his pursuit,--that he may be enabled to tint a
drawing in half an hour, when he would have spent three in making a good
tint or two (presuming his capability to do it at all),--induced the
Author of this work, at a considerable outlay of time and expense, to
form a BOX OF TINTS, in permanent cakes, ready at once for use, and all
the necessary purposes of landscape or other painting, and for sketching
from nature without inconvenience or difficulty.

As water-colour painting has experienced so much revolution of late,
arising from its extensive capabilities,--the best drawings, or rather
water-colour paintings, being produced by the balance of opaque and
transparent colours,--those tints and mixtures that are found most
useful in oil-painting, and most wanting in water, has engaged his
particular attention.

He has confided the making them solely to Mr. Charles Smith, of
Marylebone-street, Piccadilly. The tints are expressed on the cakes in
numbers, which have reference to the coloured plates. In addition to
which the following colours are those mostly used:--

Indigo; to which may be added cobalt and French blue. Indian red.
Venetian red. Purple lake. Madder lake. Vermilion. Burnt sienna. Raw
sienna. Yellow ochre. Gamboge, Brown pink. Raw umber. Vandyke brown.
Ivory black.


REFERENCE TO THE PLATES ON COLOUR.

_Plate 7._--The sky is laid with tint No. 10;--the walls and foreground
are covered down with No. 1, varied here and there with burnt
sienna;--the tiles and roof with No. 4;--tints 6, 7 and 8 are mixed
together, varied and floated over for the cool greys;--the figure,
Indigo and No. 10; vermilion, ochre and burnt sienna. The greens are
composed of indigo, gamboge and burnt sienna, with brown pink. The
gallery is tint No. 6, floated over Vandyke brown. Cobalt and Vandyke
brown in the hollows.

_Plate 8._--The sky is done with No. 9, and thin cobalt floated over:
the horizon with No. 4, varied with Venetian red: the orange brought
down into the trees, and worked together with gamboge; the shadowed
parts of which are put in with No. 7--repeated in the bases of the
clouds. No. 9 is worked into the cool greys of the middle space. The
greens are varied with indigo, burnt sienna, gamboge and brown
pink;--the brightest lights with yellow ochre: foreground with No. 5.

_Plate 9._--The sky French blue and madder-lake;--distance with No. 1,
heightened here and there with ochre;--middle space worked in with 9 and
8--the greys with No. 7. Cobalt in the hollows; warmed, in parts, with
No. 4. Boats done with No. 9, strengthened with Vandyke brown;--the
water slightly washed with No. 5, varied with the same and
indigo;--steps and railing with Nos. 1 and 5.

_Plate 10._--The sky is washed with indigo and madder-lake, kept grey
towards the horizon;--the distant buildings with Nos. 7, 8;--No. 7 is
mixed with burnt sienna for the greys of the trees: the greens are
composed of indigo, burnt sienna, raw sienna, Venetian red, and
gamboge;--the gravel with No. 5, a little burnt sienna, and white;--the
shadows with No. 7;--figures with positive colours;--foreground slightly
washed with No. 1, varied with No. 5;--the pedestal with No. 5, varied
at the base with Nos. 6 and 9.

_Plate 11._--The sky, indigo and madder lake: the clouds varied with
Nos. 8 and 9, and floated over with cobalt: the warm lights with yellow
ochre and burnt sienna;--horizon with cobalt and indigo;--the sands with
No. 1, shaded with 2 and 6;--the mill with No. 1, lightly floated over
with No. 6, and touched in parts with No. 3;--the foreground brought
down with brown pink;--the mill, on the left, painted _into_ with
Vandyke brown, Indian-red, and No. 5; the lights with No. 4, and roof
with No. 3; the sail, Indian red and Vandyke brown; figures, cobalt and
vermilion, subdued with No. 6.

_Plate 12._--The walls and pavement floated down with No. 1, and toned
over with No. 6;--the architectural markings with No. 6 and cobalt, with
a little No. 9 in the darkest parts, to give them point;--hollows of the
arches with No. 9, and No. 7 worked in;--the window is all laid in with
positive colours, brought down on the figures, which are subdued with
No. 6;--the altar, banners, priests' robes, books, &c., with chrome and
white: their shadows with No. 3;--the curtain with Vandyke brown,
Venetian red, and burnt sienna.

And here I cannot but express how much the arts and the public are
indebted to the highly inventive genius of Mr. Hullmandel, for his
numerous inventions and improvements in lithography; having, in a few
years, by the most determined perseverance, industry, and singleness of
purpose, brought the first hard, dry, and uncertain drawing on stone,
through all its various improvements, until the introduction of the now
well-known printing of the tint with modified lights; to which we are
indebted for the many beautiful productions that have appeared of late;
and thence to the extraordinary invention, now dawning on us, of making
a _painting_ on stone, from which an impression is procured that may
scarcely be articulated from a sepia drawing: enabling _painters_ to
multiply their sketches _ad infinitum_, instead of being confined, as
before, to the merely practiced pencil draughtsman. The plates of this
work are indebted to his invention.




DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES.


AFTER what has been said already, a lengthened description of the plates
would be unnecessary.

_Plate 1_--Has been described in reference to the article on
Composition; as Plates 2 and 3 have, in the one on Light and Shade.

_Plate 4._--The Porch of Chartres Cathedral, has been referred to under
the inquiry into accidental Shadows.

_Plate 5._--The Temple of Jupiter Tonans, and the Forum of Nerva, have
been noticed in like manner: as has likewise Plate 6, an ancient
Wine-store in the Rhaetian Alps.

_Plate 7._--Here are the extremes of hot and cold. The strongest colours
are placed in the darks, from which they derive all the power of the
palette, while the point is preserved by the figure in red. A warm
light, surrounded by warm tints, has the greatest brilliancy when ably
supported by the intervention of a cold one. The cool grey centre is
repeated in the hollow of the door, the lower part of the figure, and
carried out by the blue of the sky; while the warm colours are dispersed
and diffused on the wooden gallery, the walls, the ground, and gathered
up by the rich red of the woman's gown and the warm brown of the figure
behind; the dark colour of which, being laid on the dark background,
helps the woman into her forward position;--the warm colour, projected
by the red gown, is again carried up by the cap and brown of the figure
behind into the balcony, tiles, &c., until, after mingling in every
possible way with the cool greys, it escapes by the walls; spreading its
influence every where, and investing the greens of the vine and the
foreground with its character. The high light on the wall is repeated on
the linen, carried across by the figure in the gallery, and brought down
by the figure and flowers in the foreground. The general tone of the
work is warm;--the blues, greys and greens are used as a foil to give
value to the warm colours, the shadows and middle tints: the greys are
glazed warm, to preserve the richness of the general effect throughout.
The reds and blues are combined of colours possessing the properties of
each. The quantity of warm and cold colours are to be principally
observed--the union of one part with another--preservation of the
breadth, and the general harmony.

_Plate 8._--A VIEW IN BELGIUM.--The disturbed and heavy clouds sweeping
across the country are kept of a low, subdued, but warm grey;
intersecting the distant trees, and invading the middle space, until it
is found among the greens of the foliage and grass of the foreground;
the stones, the chalky road, &c., ending in the darks of the figures.
The warm lights are scattered over the tops of the trees and sunny
browns of the middle space and foreground, repeated in the lower part of
the sky, and brought forward in the foliage and grass on the left; while
the reds are gathered up in the branches and stems of the trees, and
brought to a point in the figure on the right:--the white of the chalky
road is carried into their trunks, the rock, and up into the clouds by
the birds. The breadth is divided into two wedge-shaped forms, carried
at an angle across the work, and up into the bank and trees on the left;
opposed by the long stretching line of the horizon and round forms of
the clouds and foliage,--balanced by the mass of rock on the other side.
The harsh opposition of the cutting-lines of the foreground serves to
attract the eye, while it reposes the distance.

_Plate 9._--In this example, the darkest dark being of a warm brown, is
brought up, by contrast, against the half dark in the distance, which is
of a cold grey: it is then carried up into the dark markings of the
houses, the roofs at the sides, and repeated on the right; brought down
by the scaffolding over the steps, and woven throughout into the cool
greys of the half shade, occupying nearly two-thirds of the subject, and
carried, by the reflections of the boats, into the grey of the water and
the blue of the sky;--the density of the barge, deepened by positive
colour, clearing up all the half tints. The highest light, near the
centre, is gradated along the distant buildings, and repeated in the
warm red and yellow lights, catching at different intervals on the
houses, until lost in the water.

_Plate 10._--ST. JAMES'S PARK AND THE HORSE GUARDS.--This view was taken
from the side of the Column, looking from the steps towards the
Treasury. The two great masses, thrown at the boldest angle across the
picture, the opposing lines broken up and varied by the round forms of
the trees, and cutting it nearly in half, are divided between the bustle
of the middle distance and the repose of the sky, the steps, the
terraces, and the base of the column;--the colours employed in one
division are made to invade the province of the other, until all are
_placed_ by the bright red of the soldier's dress and darker markings of
the figures in the foreground, repeated here and there as uniting links,
and carried through by the figures in the distance; while the
communicating principle is sustained between the reds, blues and
yellows, by the colour of the sky and distant buildings being composed
of all three.

_Plate 11._--MILLS ON A SEA COAST.--The large and varied portion of
shadow, principally thrown into the wild uproar of the scudding clouds,
is gathered together, and focussed by the strong and positive colour in
the mill on the left, the stranded vessel, the horizon, the figures and
dark markings in the foreground; and brought gradually down by the half
shade into the cliff, the cottage, and the principal mill; and again
carried up, by the agency of its primitive cause, to the highest parts
of the clouds. The highest light is gathered up on the wall of the
cottage, repeated in the accidental light on the retiring mill, the
horizon, the figures on the sands, the birds in the air, &c., until it
comes down to the chalky rocks and stones, mingling with the weedy
greens of the foreground; the blues are carried down by the figures, and
on which the reds are centred, and repeated in the unities of the tiles,
collecting its force in the retiring mill, and insinuating itself into
the distant figures, the sail and flag of the vessel, until lost in the
warm colours of the clouds. The middle tints are kept much of the same
strength to sustain the breadth, while the dark line of the horizon is
graduated upwards and downwards for the same purpose. The shadow on the
steps in the cliff is brought up against the light on the cottage to
give it point; and the quantity of half shade that pervades the work is
gathered up by the depths of the darks. This effect was observed at
Cayeux, in Normandy.

_Plate 12._--THE CHANCEL OF A FLEMISH CHURCH.--In this instance a number
of positive, harmonizing and opposing colours, are thrown together and
collected in the middle space; diffused, and carried out, by the
intimacy of the union of their attributes, in the figures, the altar,
the banners, &c., forming a cone of colour surrounded and reposed by
warm grey. The greys are lost and found among the browns, insinuating
themselves into the recesses and tracery on the walls, and every where
influencing the warm colours. The figures, in red and blue, are placed
in the gallery to disturb the form of the cone: while the highest light
of the window intersects the deepest dark, which is repeated in the
hollow of the porch, cutting the arch at the side.

[Illustration: Plate 7]

[Illustration: PL. VIII]

[Illustration: Plate 9]

[Illustration: Pl. X.]

[Illustration: Pl XI]




HARRY WILLSON'S

GENERAL LANDSCAPE TINTS.


          No. 1.--For foregrounds, and many parts of
          landscape; architecture; sands; roads, banks,
          lights of buildings (distant or near),
          shoal-water, corn-fields:--generally useful from
          its low brownish hue.

          No. 2.--For many of the above purposes; and, being
          deeper in tone, adapted for shadows to No. 1.

          No. 3.--Darker parts of foregrounds, banks, broken
          earth, waves, bark, timber, rocks, coasts, &c.,
          useful in buildings and architecture. May be
          beautifully and usefully varied with white.

          No. 4.--Lights of mountains, rocks, trees, distant
          masses of foliage, figures and animals in light,
          autumnal tints in warm skies and
          sunsets;--applicable to most purposes of warm
          light, and to vary greens with.

          No. 5.--For almost every part of landscape or
          buildings; rich lights of earth in sunshine;
          interiors, drapery;--applicable to numerous
          purposes, near or distant, and to mix with and
          vary other colours.

          No. 6.--For skies in cloudy weather, and shadows
          of clouds;--various pearly greys are produced by
          its mixture with blues and lake. Mixed with burnt
          sienna, it produces different degrees of warm
          browns.

          No. 7.--For shadows to mountains, distant clumps
          of foliage, drapery, &c., for mixing with general
          shadows: renders many beautiful tints by blending
          it with lakes blues and browns, especially with
          burnt sienna.

          No. 8.--Used alone, in rocks, bark of trees, and
          many useful purposes; assumes a variety of browns
          when mixed with burnt sienna; and different greys,
          when added to the blues.

          No. 9.--Useful in clouds, warm shadows, earth,
          mould;--mixed with cobalt, makes a good tint to
          vary other greys.

          No. 10.--For skies in fine weather, and to vary
          shadows of distant hills, and otherwise useful in
          subduing retiring parts of drawings.




CHARLES SMITH'S, LATE SMITH & WARNER'S,


=SUPERIOR IMPROVED MOIST WATER COLOURS,=

Suitable for sketching from Nature, which retain their moisture for a
length of time, freely and readily give their full force without the
usual delay attending the Cake Colours; they dry instantly on paper, and
are free from mildew or cracking.


=C. SMITH'S WATER COLOURS, FINELY PREPARED IN CAKES.=

                                      L. _s._ _d._

          Ultramarine                  1  1    0
          Burnt Carmine                   7    0
          Carmine                         5    0
          Gall Stone                      5    0
          Smalt                           5    0
          Purple Madder                   5    0
          Pink Madder                     3    0
          Intense Blue                    3    0
          Intense Brown                   3    0
          French Blue                     3    0
          Lemon Yellow                    3    0
          Cobalt                          2    0
          Sepia                           1    6
          ---- Warm                       1    6
          Scarlet Lake                    1    6
          Crimson Lake                    1    6
          Purple Lake                     1    6
          Brown Madder                    1    6
          Indian Yellow                   1    6
          White, warranted permanent      1    6


=C. SMITH'S PERMANENT MOIST WHITE,=

So celebrated for its permanency and harmless nature, being quite free
from lead; useful as lights upon Tinted Paper, without ever losing its
brilliancy of Colour.

All the following One Shilling per Cake.

          Gamboge
          Yellow Ochre
          Roman Ochre
          Yellow Lake
          King's Yellow
          Italian Pink
          Pale Chrome
          Deep Chrome
          Orange Chrome
          Raw Sienna
          Burnt Sienna
          Brown Pink
          Red Lead
          Vermilion
          Light Red
          Venetian Red
          Indian Red
          Dragon's Blood
          Antwerp Blue
          Prussian Blue
          Indigo
          Verditer
          Raw Umber
          Indian Lake
          Cappah Brown
          Burnt Umber
          Vandyke Brown
          Bistre
          Cologne Earth
          Byrne's Brown
          Neutral Tint
          Payne's Grey
          British Ink
          Ivory Black
          Blue Black
          Lamp Black
          Sap Green
          Prussian Green
          Emerald Green
          Verdigris
          Olive Green
          Hooker's Greens
          Varley's Orange
          ---- Dark Green
          ---- Warm Green
          ---- Warm Grey
          ---- Purple Grey
          ---- Neutral Tint

*** The above Colours kept in Powder, Bladders, and Crude state.


=WILLSON'S PRACTICAL LANDSCAPE TINTS.=

C. Smith, being of opinion that a Set of Practical Landscape Tints were
required, apart from the above positive Colours, engaged the services of
the Author of this Work to assist in forming them, which is intended to
accompany his instructions for their use, already printed. _See page
83._

They are now ready, and can be had by themselves, in a box, price
12_s._; or, with Sixteen other general Colours added, inclusive of
French Blue, Pink Madder, Cobalt, &c., L1: 6_s._


34, Marylebone Street, Piccadilly, the end of the Quadrant, Regent
Street, London.


=WATER COLOUR, FITTED UP IN BOXES, ETC.=

                                                           L. _s._ _d._
  Mahogany Slide Box, with 6 Colours and Brushes           0   6    0
  ---- 12 Ditto                                            0  12    0
  ---- 18 Ditto                                            0  18    0
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            1   4    0
  Mahogany Lock Box, with 12 Colours, Brushes, &c.         0  16    0
  ---- 12 Colours, Drawer, &c.                             1   0    0
  ---- 18 Ditto                                            1   7    0
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            1  12    0
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  ---- 12 Colours, Drawer, &c.                             1   6    0
  ---- 18 Ditto                                            1  15    0
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            2   2    0
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  ---- 18 Ditto                                            2  12    6
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            3   3    0
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  ---- 18 Ditto                                            3   3    0
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            3  13    6
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  ---- 12 Colours, Chalk, &c.                              3   3    0
  ---- 18 Ditto                                            4  14    6
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            5   5    0
  Inlaid Rose and Satin Wood Boxes, 12 Colours, &c.        4  10    0
  ---- 18 Ditto                                            5  10    0
  ---- 24 Ditto                                            6   6    0
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  Portable Ditto, Extra Colours                            4   4    0
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  Mahogany and Tin Boxes, with Chalks &c., complete
  Tin Boxes fitted up with Moist Colours, &c.


=SUPERIOR HAIR PENCILS AND BRUSHES,=

Made of the Finest Sable Hair, Camel's Hair, &c., by the most perfect
English and French artists. The largest possessing the Fine Elastic
Points of the smallest, and with the advantage of containing a much
greater quantity of Colour.

   Red and Brown Sable Hair Pencils
   Camel Hair and Fitch ditto
   Sable and Camel Hair Pencils for Miniature Painting
   Sable and Camel Hair Writers
   French Hog and Goat Hair Tools, round and flat
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   Badger Tools, for Blending, &c.
   Badger, Fitch, Hog, and Camel Hair Brushes, round and
     flat, for varnishing
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   Water Colour Softeners
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   Large Hair Pencils, for washing in clouds, &c.
   Proutonian Sables, the largest ever made.


=C. SMITH'S INDELIBLE COLOURED INKS,=

REMBRANDT'S AND PROUT'S FAVOURITE TINTS FOR PEN SKETCHING, &c.

Sketches made in these Inks can be made Drawings, coloured over at any
time without fear of disturbing the Original Sketch; particularly
adapted for Prout's Architectural Subjects, such as the elaborate work
of Churches, Cathedrals, and Buildings of Venice, &c.


=C. SMITH'S PURE CUMBERLAND LEAD PENCILS,=

EQUAL TO ANY MADE.

          F         For General Use
          FF        Bold Sketching
          HB        Middle Shade
          B         Shading
          BB        Black Shading
          BBB       Extra Shading
          HHHH      Finest Lines
          HHH       Engineering
          HH        Architecture
          H         Fine Outline

Common Pencils for Schools, Pocket-Book Pencils, various. Also,
Mordan's, Brookman and Langdon's, and Dobbs's Pencils.


34, Marylebone Street, Piccadilly, the end of the Quadrant, Regent
Street, London.


=SOLID SKETCH BOOKS.=

With Compressed Leaves, made of thin and thick White, Drab, Yellow, and
Grey Drawing Papers, forming a solid packet of thirty or forty leaves,
each of which can be easily separated from the others by the
introduction of a pen-knife underneath.


=WOVE AND CARTRIDGE DRAWING PAPERS.=

          Demy               20 by 15
          Medium             22 -- 17
          Royal              24 -- 19
          Super Royal        27 -- 19
          Imperial           30 -- 21
          Colombier          34 -- 23
          Atlas              34 -- 26
          Double Elephant    40 -- 26
          Antiquarian        52 -- 31
          Extra Antiquarian  56 -- 40

Emperor, the largest size paper, 68 inches by 48 inches. Rough,
Extra-thick, Tinted, and Hot pressed Papers, Drawing Cartridge Papers,
for Architects, &c., Crayon, Tinted, London and Bristol Boards, English
and French Tracing Papers, to 60 in. by 40 in.


=HARDING'S NEW DRAWING PAPER,=

Made pure and perfectly free from any chemical agency that will tend to
fade the Colours or alter their Tint. Recommended to those who paint
with Body Colours, &c.


=C. SMITH'S MATERIALS FOR SKETCHING IN WATER COLOURS.=

    Compressed Paper, in Packets
    Sketching Books of all kinds
    Sketching Folios and Portfolios
    Albums and Scrap Books
    Sketching Books, with Boxes attached
    Sketching Desks for the Neck
    Parlour's Patent Sketching Instrument and Camera Lucidas
      and Obscuras
    Desks, with Colours, &c., for ditto
    Stands and Tables for ditto
    Camp and other Seats for Sketching
    Japanned Tin Boxes, with Moist Colours, Cups, Bottles,
      &c., for Sketching
    Fixed Sketching Inks and Reed Pens
    Ditto, in Cases for Travelling, &c.
    Drawing and Sketching Boards
    Liquid Sepia, for Drawing
    Leather Cases, for Colours, Brushes, &c.
    Creta Laevis Crayons, or different Colours that work dry
      or with water
    Portable Cases, containing a Seat, Book, Box, &c. for
      Sketching
    Artists' Umbrellas, to shade the sun
    Seat and Table combined, for Sketching
    India Rubber Water Bottles
    India Ink of the finest quality, warranted genuine


=C. SMITH'S SUPERIOR NEW DRAWING BOARDS,=

For straining thick or thin Drawing Paper more efficiently, and much
more easily, without pasting or cutting; also fitted up with Colours,
Brushes, Saucers, &c.


=C. SMITH'S MATERIALS FOR SKETCHING AND PAINTING IN OIL COLOURS.=

    Prepared Paper and Millboards, for Sketching from Nature, &c.
    Prepared Panels and Cloths, and Tickens on or off frames
    Tin Boxes for Oil Colours, &c.
    Portable ditto for Sketching
    Oil Colours in Cakes and Bottles (see Wilson's Letter)
    Tin Oil Cups, and Cups for Washing Brushes
    Steel, Ivory, and Horn Palette Knives
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    Mastic, Copal, and Spirit Varnishes
    Turpentine Gold Size, Asphaltum and M'Guelph
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    Maul or Rest Sticks
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    Bladder Colour Nobs
    Oil Box and Easel combined
    C. Smith's new invented Telescope portable Cane Easels,
      extremely light, for Sketching
    Compressed Oil Papers for Sketches


34, Marylebone Street, Piccadilly, the end of the Quadrant, Regent
Street, London.


=NEW CAMERA OBSCURAS.=

For Sketching, so contrived, that any person with a slight knowledge of
Drawing can use them without difficulty, straining the sight, or
previous practice. The images, being reflected on paper, require nothing
more than tracing their outlines.


=MISCELLANEOUS MATERIALS.=

    Mathematical Instruments
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    Flat, Parallel and Stationer's Rulers
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=C. SMITH'S NEW INVENTED WATER-COLOUR CREAM.=

A M'Guelph, or Medium, for using with Water-Colours, either transparent
or semi-opaque, for obtaining opaque masses of colour or glazing. Drying
slower than water, and not so fluid, enables the touch to be preserved
where required without hard ridges.

          Soft Swiss and French Crayons
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          Cooper's Studies of Cattle
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          New Perspective Parallel Rulers
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          ---- Figures for Landscapes, &c.
          Merimee's Oil Painting
          Cawse's ditto
          Howard's Sketcher's Manual
          ---- on Colour
          Laporte's Studies of Trees

A great variety of Juvenile Lithographic Drawing Books of Landscapes,
Animals, and the Human Figure, and other Popular Works on Drawing and
Painting.


=SHADE'S DRAWING AND PERSPECTIVE MODELS.=

For the practice of young students in obtaining a knowledge of the first
rudiments of Perspective Drawing, Light and Shade, &c. with numerous
illustrations explanatory of the infinite variety of useful Drawing
Studies they are capable of forming together. To be had complete in
boxes, price 10_s._ 6_d._ and L1 1_s._

A variety of Miniature Models of Churches, Cottages, Castles, &c. &c.;
lent out for the use of early in-door Landscape Students, as a
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Wholesale, Retail, and for Exportation.

_October, 1841._


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CHILD'S ELEMENTARY DRAWING BOOK. Studies from Nature, in Progressive
Lessons. Eight Nos. 9d.; cloth, 7s. 6d.

HARLEY'S LANDSCAPE DRAWING BOOK. Six Nos. 1s.; cloth, 7s. 6d.

PHILLIPS' FAMILIAR LIFE. Etchings of Figures, Groups, &c. Three Nos. 1s.
6d.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Text uses both "development" and "developement."

Contents, "71" changed to "70"

      (OF BACKGROUNDS     70)

Page 13, "Park-corner" changed to "Park Corner" (park-gates at Hyde Park
Corner)

Page 52, "invole" changed to "involve" (light and shade may involve)

Page 78, "Jupitor" changed to "Jupiter" (Temple of Jupiter Tonans)





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