_Albert Cuyp_ (Dutch: 1620-1691).
Cuyp was born at Dort--the son of an artist who was one of the
founders of the Painters' Guild in that town. He was a deacon
and elder of his church, and was a citizen of importance,
holding various municipal and judicial offices. As a painter,
however, he had little reputation in his own country, and,
as is the case with so many of the Dutch masters, it was in
England that he was first appreciated. Even in 1750 one of
his pictures sold for thirty florins; in 1876 one fetched
at Christie's £5040. The high esteem in which his works are
thus held is justified alike by their own merits and by his
important position in the history of landscape art. He is, in
the first place, the principal master of pastoral landscape,
"representing peasant life and its daily work, or such scenery
as may naturally be suggestive of it, consisting usually of
simple landscape, in part subjected to agriculture, with
figures, cattle, and domestic buildings." In this respect Cuyp
is an interesting case of the detachment of an artist's life.
He was born and lived in troublous times; but in looking at his
works one would imagine (it has been said) "that he passed his
whole life in Arcadia, untroubled by any more anxious thought
than whether the sun would give the effect which he required
for his paintings, or the cows stay long enough for him to
depict them in their natural attitudes." Dwelling on the banks
of the placid Maas, he delighted also to reproduce the warm
skies of summer or autumn reflected in an expanse of water
overspread with marine craft. Secondly, Cuyp has been called
the "Dutch Claude," for he was the first amongst the Dutch to
"set the sun in the sky." "For expression of effects of yellow
sunlight, parts might be chosen out of the good pictures of
Cuyp, which have never been equalled in art." It is sun_shine_,
observe, that Cuyp paints, not sun _colour_. "Observe this
accurately. Those easily understood effects of afternoon light,
gracious and sweet so far as they reach, are produced by the
softly warm or yellow rays of the sun falling through mist.
They are low in tone, even in nature, and disguise the colours
of objects. They are imitable even by persons who have little
or no gift of colour, if the tones of the picture are kept
low and in true harmony, and the reflected lights warm. But
they never could be painted by great colourists. The fact of
blue and crimson being effaced by yellow and grey puts such
effect at once out of the notice or thought of a colourist."
The task of painting the sun _colour_ was reserved for Turner;
yet Cuyp's pictures had a great influence over him." He went
steadily through the subdued golden chord, and painted Cuyp's
favourite effect, 'sun rising through vapour,' for many a weary
year. But this was not enough for him. He must paint the sun in
his strength, the sun rising _not_ through vapour. If you turn
to the Apollo in the 'Ulysses and Polyphemus' (508), his horses
are rising beyond the horizon--you see he is not 'rising
through vapour,' but above it;--gaining somewhat of a victory
over vapour, it appears. The old Dutch brewer,[84] with his
yellow mist, was a great man and a good guide, but he was not
Apollo. He and his dray-horses led the way through the flats
cheerily, for a little time; we have other horses now flaming
out 'beyond the mighty sea'" (_Modern Painters_, vol. i. pt.
ii. sec. ii. ch. i. § 19; vol. v. pt. ix. ch. xi. §§ 3, 4).
Admirers of Cuyp should make a point of visiting the Dulwich
Gallery, which is peculiarly rich in works by this master. In
the British Museum are several of his drawings and studies.
An interesting study in what is called "truth of tone" may be made with
this picture--by which is meant the "exact relation and fitness of
shadow and light, and of the hues of all objects under them; and more
especially that precious quality of each colour laid on which makes it
appear a quiet colour illuminated, not a bright colour in shade." Now
with regard to this Ruskin says, "I much doubt if there be a single
_bright_ Cuyp in the world, which, taken as a whole, does not present
many glaring solecisms in tone. I have not seen many fine pictures
of his which were not utterly spoiled by the vermilion dress of some
principal figure--a vermilion totally unaffected and unwarmed by the
golden hue of the rest of the picture; and, what is worse, with little
distinction between its own illumined and shaded parts, so that it
appears altogether out of sunshine--the colour of a bright vermilion
in dead, cold daylight.... And these failing parts, though they often
escape the eye when we are near the picture and able to dwell upon what
is beautiful in it, yet so injure its whole effect that I question if
there be many Cuyps in which vivid colours occur, which will not lose
their effect and become cold and flat at a distance of ten or twelve
paces, retaining their influence only when the eye is close enough
to rest on the right parts without including the whole. Take, for
instance, the large one in our National Gallery. (Seen at a distance)
the black cow appears a great deal nearer than the dogs, and the golden
tones of the distance look like a sepia drawing rather than like
sunshine, owing chiefly to the utter want of aerial greys indicated
through them" (_Modern Painters_, vol. i. pt. ii. sec. ii. ch. i. §§
11, 19).