truth is elicited, that the tone of colour has much to do in conveying
the sentiment and pathos of the picture, and Rembrandt possessed this
quality in a very high degree. In the infancy of the arts, when
practised by rude nations, we find harsh and bright colours predominate
in a very strong scale--in fact, the brighter the more effective on the
uneducated eye; and it is only when the arts advance towards perfection
that a subdued tone of colour is demanded as most compatible with
refinement. Colour, both as an imitative quality, and also as an adjunct
towards assisting the character of his subject, seems always to have
been uppermost in Rembrandt's mind. His drawing, it is true, is open to
censure, but his colour will stand the most searching investigation, and
will always appear more transcendent the more it is examined. Reynolds,
in his Journey through Holland, mentions a picture by Rembrandt, in
the collection of the Prince of Orange--"a study of a Susanna, for the
picture by Rembrandt which is in my possession: it is nearly the same
action, except that she is here sitting. This is the third study I
have seen for this figure--I have one myself, and the third was in the
possession of the late Mr. Blackwood. In the drawing which he made for
this picture, which I have, she is likewise sitting; in the picture,
she is on her legs, but leaning forward. It appears extraordinary that
Rembrandt should have taken so much pains, and have made at last so
very ugly and ill-favoured a figure; but his attention was principally
directed to the colouring and effect, in which it must be acknowledged
he has attained the highest degree of excellence." The small picture
in the National Gallery is a study of the same figure. Colour was the
ruling principle with Rembrandt, the Alpha and Omega, in the same way
that Richard Wilson designated the three qualifications for landscape
painting, as contained in one--viz., _breadth_. The tones of colour with
which Rembrandt clothed his subjects are always in the highest degree
appropriate and conducive to the sentiment, whether within the "solemn
temples," or the personification of some great supernatural event. As
most of his historical subjects are from Sacred Writ, he never loses
sight of those qualities which take them out of the page of every-day
occurrences. I shall mention two, though one is sufficient for a
master-key to them all. In the picture of "The Adoration of the Magi
and Kings," in the Queen's Collection, the solemnity is carried to the
utmost extent, like the mysterious leaf of a sybil's book; the only
light shed over the scene seems to descend from the lurid rays of the
star that stood over the place of the nativity, and guided them to the
spot. To acquire the greatest breadth, he has placed the Virgin and
child in the corner of the picture, and low down at the base, with the
same feeling that impelled Shakspere, in his Constance, to utter, "Here
is my throne, bid kings come bow to it." The presentation of incense
and precious perfumes, of diadems and jewels, by crowned heads and
venerable magi, not only removes the attendants to the background, but
even Joseph is represented as wrapt in thought, and viewing from the
shade the solemnity of the scene. The whole colouring of this work is in
accordance with this feeling--subdued, except in the smallest portions
of each hue, and these shine out like sparkling of jewels in a dark
recess.
The other work I would particularize is, "The Salutation of the Virgin,"
in the collection of the Marquis of Westminster. This picture, though
of small dimensions, yet exemplifies the peculiarity of Rembrandt's mode
of treatment. Being less decided in the chiaro-scuro and tone of colour
than the Wise Men's Offering, it is more difficult to describe; this
also arises from the exquisite weaving in of the hot and cold colours.
Having had it under my eye for a couple of months, I can easily recall
it on the least effort of the memory; but to bring it before the
spectator who has not seen it, and by no other art than the medium of
words, is as difficult as it would be to bring an harmonious arrangement
of music by a different means--one must be seen and the other heard to
render an explanation evident, which even then can only be understood
by connoisseurs in painting and music. I must therefore avail myself of
technicalities, which may seem out of place, where we are investigating
the general hue of the picture. It is divided into hot and cold colours,
which are brought in contact in the centre--Elizabeth being clothed in
red and yellow, the Virgin in blue, white, and cool grey. The hot colour
is carried across by the red sleeve of Elizabeth, and part of her
yellow shawl, and descends to the petticoat of a Negress who is removing
the grey mantle from the Virgin, and is further extended by a few
warm-coloured stones and touches in the pavement. The cool colour is
carried past the warm tone of Zacharias and the porch above him by means
of a grey green pillar, a peacock, and a few touches of cool colour on a
bush at one corner of the warm side of the picture. The general tone of
the work is of a low, deep hue, so that even the cool tints are not cold
or raw, but a deep-toned brightness pervades the whole. Through the dark
grey sky, that seems to descend to overshadow the group, a gleam of
light darts upon the scene, as a connecting link between heaven and
earth, and giving force and truth to the expression of Elizabeth, when
she pronounces the words, "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is
the fruit of thy womb." The light that shoots through the gloom has
roused a pea-hen and chicks, who shake off their sleep as if it was the
dawn of day.
This is a very imperfect description, but will, nevertheless, serve
to show the fine feeling and deep intent of the genius of Rembrandt.
To extend this investigation further would be perhaps superfluous,
did we not know that, even in our own time, doubts are entertained of
the proper introduction of pictorial arrangements of chiaro-scuro and
colour; but the grand style, like all other modes of portraying a work,
must be made subservient to affecting the feelings of the spectator. I
shall only bring two pictures in contrast to elucidate this principle
still further--"The Burning of the Books at Ephesus," by Sebastian
Bourdon; and "The Martyrdom of St. Lawrence," by Titian. As Bourdon has
been considered the French Raffaelle, it is but fair that he should be
taken as a follower of that school, devoted to composition and correct
drawing, to the absence of all inferior qualities; the consequence is,
he has represented the scene in mid-day, where the flames are red
without extending their influence to surrounding objects; consequently,
they are not luminous, nor conveying the idea of destruction. Titian,
on the contrary, has chosen the darkness of night to represent the
horrors of the martyrdom--the red burning light of the living coal
conveys a tenfold force to the torments of the saint, and the very
reality of the colour gives a corresponding truth to the scene, which
takes it completely out of the regions of apocrypha, and stamps it with
the character of Holy Writ. The descent of the cool light from heaven
upon the scorching body of St. Lawrence is like a rush of water to
counteract his sufferings, and give him a confidence in his future
reward, which the spectator fully enters into. These are the triumphs
that appropriate chiaro-scuro and colour achieve for their introduction
into historical works.
That we may more clearly perceive the rank which Rembrandt holds as a
colourist, I shall endeavour to investigate the peculiar qualities that
characterise the several manners of Titian, Rembrandt, and Reynolds--the
one living before, the other after our artist, and of course confining
the investigation to portraiture alone. I have selected Titian in
preference to Vandyke, not that I consider him, in this branch,
superior; on the contrary, I agree with Sir Joshua, in mentioning
Vandyke as the greatest portrait painter that ever existed, all things
considered--but I wish to confine myself exclusively to colour, and
in this branch it is evident that these three great artists are more
similar in their works than any other painters; but Titian, by the
concurrent testimony of his contemporaries and all succeeding judges
upon the subject, is the highest authority on the great leading
principles of colour. Besides, his works are in many instances uninjured
by the rough usage of uneducated men. With regard to the works of
Rembrandt, which are in comparison as of yesterday, many of them remain
in the same frames and on the same walls on which they were first hung.
The works of Reynolds, though of a more recent date, have suffered more,
not from the ruthless hand of the picture-cleaner, but from his making
use of more perishable materials. Still, from the variety of his
vehicles, changed from an anxiety to get a nearer approach to the look
and appearance of nature, many of his pictures are sufficiently perfect
to build an investigation upon. Previous to the appearance of Giorgione
and Titian, this branch of the art differed but little from the
treatment the several heads received in historical pictures generally;
only with this exception, that when introduced as the component parts
of a work where a story had to be told, they were imbued with action
and expression; but when treated as simple portraiture, the higher
qualities were left out, and a quiet map of the face, to use a familiar
expression, was all that was desired to be transferred to the canvas.
Neither did the head receive that superiority over every other
subordinate part of the work which science and a long line of celebrated
examples seem now so imperatively to demand.
In drawing a comparison between the three great portrait painters, it
is necessary, in the first instance, to refer to the several characters
of their models, or sitters. The nobility of Venice were, at the time
of Titian, men of long descent, dignified, and holding high rank in
a city at that time the emporium of the merchandize of the East, and
distributors of rich manufactures to the whole of civilized Europe;
hence that "senatorial dignity" which characterises his works, and
the style and richness of costume so necessary to grandeur, and the
historical air in his portraits. His sitters also possessed countenance
and figure well calculated to engender and support the noblest character
of painting. The sitters of Reynolds, notwithstanding the pomatumed
pyramids of the female hair, or the stiff, formal curls of the male,
which set every attempt to beautify the features at defiance, either
by extension of the forms or harmonizing the several parts of the
countenance, (serious obstacles to pictorial beauty,) were still in
possession of that bland and fascinating look which distinguishes people
of high breeding. In contrast with these we have to array the models of
Rembrandt's painting-room--fat burgomasters, florid in complexion and
common in feature; Jews and attornies; shipbuilders, and hard
harsh-featured master mechanics. Independent of the models themselves,
there is a congenial feeling created in the artist who associates with
and has to represent them; we imperceptibly imbibe the manners of those
we are in contact with, either advantageously or injuriously. From these
few remarks we may perceive that the dignified attitude, the broad
general tone of the countenance, though deep, yet rendered bright
and luminous by the jetty blackness of the hair and beard, were all
conducive to the creation of the style of Titian--a style that swallows
up the varieties of minute tints in a general breadth. So in Reynolds,
the absence of everything strong in expression or harsh in colour gave
a refinement to the heads of his men, and a beauty to the faces of his
females; and to this treatment all his sitters were subjected--so that
even those heads, however deficient in the originals, came off his
easel ladies and gentlemen. A subdued delicacy of expression and
colour removes them from the common look of familiar life. Now, on
the contrary, the very character and colour of Rembrandt's heads
are pronounced with the strong stamp of flesh and blood--an exact
representation of nature in an unsophisticated state. His handling, his
manner of leaving the various tints, and the marking of minute parts,
all conspire to give his works that appearance of truth unfettered
with the attempt to elevate the general character at the expense of
individuality.
The peculiarity of Titian's portraits, independent of the high character
and simple and dignified attitude of the figure, is a careful and
distinct modelling of the features, with the half-shadows, though
not dark, yet never slurred over--which in other hands would produce
heaviness; but Titian counteracts this by the intense darkness of his
dresses and backgrounds, so that the features, often modelled with
the firmness of sculpture, are rendered comparatively gentle by the
treatment of the other parts of the picture. The portraits of Sir Joshua
have this peculiarity, that however loaded and enriched in every part of
the work, the head is kept smooth, and often thinly painted. The
whole-length of "The Marquis of Granby," and "The Portrait of Mrs.
Siddons," two of his finest pictures, are examples of this mode of
treating the head. This has given rise to an anecdote, that Mrs.
Siddons, looking at the picture when unfinished, begged Sir Joshua not
to touch the head any more--and having promised her, he refrained,
notwithstanding the richness and depth of the fearless glazings would
seem to demand a corresponding force in the head. The truth is, that
Reynolds seems always to have depended upon the small dark shadows
to give solidity to his heads, without clogging them with colour or
dark half-tints. The importance of thus refining upon the head may be
perceived in the portrait of himself, painted _con amore_, and presented
to the Dilettante Society, of which he was a member. The features, and,
indeed, the whole head, depend upon the extreme darks; the judicious
arrangement of these shadows not only gives a pictorial dignity to the
work, from the stamp of science, but also, where the features in nature
are either blunt or mean in themselves, draws off the attention of the
spectator to higher qualities. Shadows are never mean, but are the
stamps of truth rendered beautiful by taste and feeling. Independent
of the advantage of dark touches giving delicacy to the features that
produce them, there is a motion and life given by the vivacity and
freedom of the handling, which cannot with safety be taken with the
features themselves. This quality seems very early to have been Sir
Joshua's greatest anxiety to acquire. In a remark respecting the
pictures of a rival, John Stephen Liotard, whose only merit was a
strong likeness, with great neatness of finish, Reynolds says--"The
high-finished manner of painting would be chosen if it were possible
with it to have that spirit and expression which infallibly fly off when
the artist labours; but there are transient beauties which last less
than a moment, and must be painted in as little time; besides, in poring
long the imagination is fatigued, and loses its vigour. You will find
nature in the first manner--but it will be nature stupid, and without
action. The portraits of Holbein are of this high-finished manner; and
for colouring and similitude what was ever beyond them? But then you see
fixed countenances, and all the features seem to remain immoveable."
Northcote observes, "Of mere likeness in portraiture Reynolds thought
very little, and used to say that he could instruct any boy that chance
might throw in his way to paint a likeness in a portrait in half a
year's time; but to give an impressive and a just expression and
character to a picture, or paint it like Velasquez, was another thing.
What we are all," he said, "attempting to do with great labour, he does
at once."
Barry, speaking of Reynolds as a portrait painter, mentions the wretched
state the art was in before his time, and how elevated it became from
the manner Sir Joshua treated it. In continuation, he says--"In many of
Titian's portraits the head and hands are mere staring, lightish spots,
unconnected with either the drapery or background, which are sometimes
too dark, and mere obscure nothings; and in Lely, and even in Vandyke,
we sometimes meet with the other extreme of too little solidity, too
much flickering and washiness. Sir Joshua's object appears to have been
to obtain the vigour and solidity of the one, with the bustle and spirit
of the other, without the excess of either; and in by far the greatest
number of his portraits he has admirably succeeded. His portrait of
Mrs. Siddons is, both for the ideal and the executive, the finest
portrait of the kind perhaps in the world; indeed, it is something more
than a portrait, and may serve to give an excellent idea of what an
enthusiastic mind is apt to conceive of those pictures of confined
history for which Apelles was so celebrated by the ancient writers.
But this picture of 'Mrs. Siddons, or the Tragic Muse,' was painted not
long since, when much of his attention had been turned to history; and
it is highly probable that the picture of Lord Heathfield, the glorious
defender of Gibraltar, would have been of equal importance, had it been
a whole length; but even as it is--only a bust--there is great animation
and spirit, happily adapted to the indications of the tremendous scene
around him; and to the admirable circumstance of the key of the
fortress, firmly grasped in his hand, than which imagination cannot
conceive anything more ingenious and heroically characteristic. It
is, perhaps, owing to the Academy, and to his situation in it, to
the discourses which he biennially made to the pupils upon the great
principles of historical art, and the generous ardour of his own mind
to realize what he advised, that we are indebted for a few expansive
efforts of colouring and chiaro-scuro which would do honour to the first
names in the records of art." And speaking of the large historical work
he painted for the Empress of Russia, he adds--"Nothing can exceed the
brilliancy of light--the force and vigorous effect of his picture of
'The Infant Hercules strangling the Serpent;' it possesses all that we
look for and are accustomed to admire in the works of Rembrandt, united
to beautiful forms and an elevation of mind to which Rembrandt had no
pretensions. The prophetical agitation of Tiresias and Juno, enveloped
in clouds, hanging over the scene like a black pestilence, can never be
too much admired, and are, indeed, truly sublime."