So long ago as 1839, in the June number of this Magazine, we noticed M.
Merimee's posthumous work on oil-painting. It was ushered into the world
with no little parade, under the sanction and strong recommendation of a
committee of the Royal Institute of France; and in this country with the
somewhat authoritative and permitted dedication to the President of our
Royal Academy, by the editor and translator, Mr Sarsfield Taylor. We
should have cared little about reviewing such a work, had we not felt
persuaded that the public, and more especially artists, required some
caution, under the high influence of the mode of its publication, how
they should receive a work whose direct tendency was to misguide
them--to mislead them from the path towards the practice of the old
masters, and to confirm artists in the evil practice of mixing varnish
with the oils with which their pigments are ground.
The work was the more insidious, as it professed to take the excellence
of the old masters as the attainable object. We believe that we
satisfactorily showed that M. Merimee was so predisposed in favour of
copal varnish, that in his researches he would make every thing bend,
even the most stubborn facts, and most opposing sense of passages quoted
by him, to that prejudice. We exposed the numerous, we had almost said
wilful, mistranslations from the Latin and Italian--especially the
former--with which the volume abounded. We showed how entirely and
frequently original passages had been distorted from their plain
meaning, as if with a systematic purpose, to uphold a fanciful theory.
We offer a specimen:--The monk Theophilus, who wrote in the tenth
century "De Arte Pingendi," mentions a "Gummi Fornis." This, though M.
Merimee confesses it does not resemble it in consistence, he still will
have to be copal. Theophilus says, "Hoc glutine omnis pictura
_superlinita_ lucida fit et decora, ac omnino durabilis."--"Every
picture _smeared over_ with this gluten becomes lucid and beautiful, and
altogether durable." It might be thought almost impossible to
mistranslate this. But the varnishing over, or smearing over, being a
direct contradiction to the mixing with the pigments, with the view of
rendering it according to the writer's prejudice, the passage is thus
translated--"Pictures _prepared_ with this _varnish_ are brilliant, and
remain without any alteration."
Again, M. Merimee, speaking of M. Tingry, the able professor of
chemistry of Geneva, affects to regret that he did not apply his
scientific knowledge to the practice of the art, in painting pictures.
But the fact is, that the professor does give his attention to the
subject, not only by his experiments on oils and varnishes--the vehicles
of picture painting; but as one who was well acquainted with the nature
of varnishes, he very distinctly warns artists against the practice
which it is M. Merimee's object to establish. The passage is so
important (and the authority of Tingry so undeniable) that we are here
tempted once more to quote it:--
"Some of the English painters, too anxious to receive the fruits of
their composition, neglect these precautions. Several artists even paint
in varnish, _and apply it with their colours_. This precipitate method
gives brilliancy to their compositions at the very moment of their being
finished; but their lustre is temporary and of short duration. It
renders it impossible for them to clean their paintings, which are,
besides, liable to crack and to lose their colour. In a word, it is not
uncommon to see an artist survive his works, and to have nothing to
expect from posterity." But lest it should be said, as M. Merimee did
say, that Tingry, the author of the above passage, wrote _only_ to house
painters, he adds thus--"Nothing that relates to the house painter is
foreign to the artist of a higher order who paints compositions; in like
manner, the precepts admitted by the celebrated painters deserve the
attention of the varnisher, to whom the painter entrusts his greatest
interests. The observations contained in this note are the brief result
of some instructive conversations I had with Saintours, a celebrated
painter, my friend and relation."[5]
We revert to our review of M. Merimee's work, as preliminary to our
notice of the beautiful volume of Mrs Merrifield's translation on
Tambroni's edition of _Cennino Cennini_, because the subject of vehicles
is here again brought before the public; and we know of no subject more
important, as it regards the interests of art, for the consideration of
this and of every other country. For it appears incontestable that there
was a period when the art of painting, through the discovery of a
vehicle, broke forth into uncommon splendour and beauty, which splendour
and beauty remain in works fresh and perfect to this day; and that there
was a subsequent period at which this particular vehicle was lost. We
therefore thank the authoress (for her notes are important, and demand
that we should give her this title in addition to that of translator)
for again bringing this subject before the public in so attractive a
manner, by the elegance of the type, illustration, and binding of this
volume, so agreeable to the eye; and for the addition of many of her own
judicious remarks. So that, through this feminine grace and good sense,
an interest and attention are awakened, which the bare recipes of
Cennino Cennini would hardly have commanded.
Cennino Cennini has frequently been partially quoted from Vasari
downwards; partially quoted, but little read. He finished writing his
book on the arts the 31st day of July 1437; was born soon after 1350;
had been twelve years the disciple of Agnolo Gaddi, who died 1387; son
of Taddeo Gaddi, the disciple and godson of Giotto, the "father of
modern art." The precepts which he delivers are therefore those
acquired in immediate succession from that great first master, and as
the secrets of his art. We grieve to add that the work was written in
prison, dated from the Stinche in Florence, at eighty years of age, and
in extreme poverty; a proof among many, that the patronage of the arts
in those days was not a mantle of charity of adequate dimensions to
cover the wants of the numerous professors of the art; while it tells
somewhat unfavourably for the gratitude of the contemporary world to
know, that the one work alone of this deserted old man, the Virgin in
the Hospital of Bonifacio Lupi, (so well coloured, says Vasari, that it
is to this day in good preservation,) would produce a sum that would
probably not only be sufficient to have paid his debts, but to have
equalled the wants of no small portion of his prolonged life. The work
itself seems to bear testimony to an earnest, amiable, and religious
mind; there would appear, therefore, no moral fault to which to
attribute his unfortunate condition. We must suppose that struggles with
the world's difficulties, incompatible though they seem with art, are
necessary; and that the cradle of genius must be first rocked by
Want--that necessity is the great "Magister Artium;" for we find it has
ever been so, even to the present enlightened age. A few favourites
occupy the Goshen of patronage, who at their death are not remembered,
and whose works _do_ "follow them;" and then, the works of those who
have lived neglected, lived, worked, and died in penury, are eagerly
sought after at any price. Such men, whilst they lived, were yet
teaching a lesson in taste which the world were _slow to learn_; for it
is in the nature of genius to be before the age, and in some respects to
teach a novelty, which the world in not prepared to receive. Genius
works on by the compulsion of its own nature, and the world is improved
by it when it can no longer reward it but by a too late admiration, that
reaches not, as far as we know, the dead. The complaint of Horace has
been ever justified, and is still, in the eager search after works of
our Wilson and Gainsborough--
"Virtutem incolumem odimus,
Sublatam ex oculis quaerimus invidi."
This edition of Tambroni is not from an original MS. or printed copy,
but from a transcript about a century old, discovered by Angelo Mai
among the Ottobonican manuscripts. Two other copies of Cennino Cennini
are known to exist; we are curious for their examination, the present
rescript _may_ in some respects be deficient. As Cennino Cennini
completed his work 1437, and the discovery of Van Eyck is said to have
been 1410, it might have been expected that we should find some notice
of Van Eyck's vehicle. We rather lament than are surprised that we find
none. Those were the days for secrecies. Cennino himself speaks of many
of his recipes as great secrets; and we are told that Van Eyck only in
his old age taught his secret to Antonello--and the whole story goes to
show the profound secrecy with which this vehicle was retained; nor is
there any reason to doubt that it occasioned the murder of Domenico,
said to have been perpetrated in 1470, thirty-three years after the
writing of Cennino Cennini. Vasari says positively, that "John Van Eyck
would not let any one see him work, nor would he teach the secret to any
one--but being old," &c. This is certainly an argument against those who
would affirm, if Van Eyck had discovered a vehicle, it would have been
universally known. Such secrets are slow in progress, independent of the
caution to keep them so. Artists did not formerly spring up self-taught;
they were bound to masters, and learned their art from the beginning,
and slowly, and learned not many of their secrets till after years of
servitude, for such we must call it. They had then to make as well as to
grind their own colours, to make their own brushes, tablets, and cloths.
Mrs Merrifield and Tambroni certainly do not agree in their opinions
respecting this discovery of a vehicle by Van Eyck. The Italian is
rather foolishly sensitive for the honour of his country, and his
sensitiveness seems to bias his judgment. He would not that a foreigner
should have the merit. Tambroni believes, and probably truly, that
Vasari never thoroughly read Cennino; but he bears testimony to the
_noble_-mindedness of Vasari--"Whence," says he, "we are constrained to
believe that he merely glanced lightly over the titles to the chapters
of part of the manuscript; and that, thinking it useless, he did not
care to examine and investigate the whole work. For this reason it
cannot be supposed that this noble-minded man, so zealous for the honour
of his country, and whose every effort had been directed to make it
pre-eminent, would withhold from one of his fellow-countrymen the just
fame which he deserved by so valuable a work. Nor do I intend here to
reprove him, or to lessen his glory. I shall only say that he committed
a great error in not having examined the work of this old master: for
then, perhaps, he would not so easily have given the credit of those
things to strangers which certainly were known in his own beautiful
Tuscany, and in all Italy, as I shall hereafter study to prove." Yet he
does not hesitate after this to charge "this noble-minded man" with
fabricating "a romance or tale of the imagination." But he misquotes
Vasari. As Mrs Merrifield justly observes, "he takes only part of
Vasari's account into consideration, instead of stating the whole, and
reasoning on it as Lanzi has done. Vasari does not limit Van Eyck's
discovery to the simple fact, that he had discovered that linseed and
nut oils were more drying than any he had tried; but he adds, "these
then, _boiled with his other mixtures_, made the varnish, which he, as
well as all the other painters of the world, had so long desired." It is
very singular that this most important passage should have been entirely
omitted by the editor, (Tambroni.) It is in _these mixtures_ that the
secret consisted, not in using the oils; and we may certainly conclude
that the process of Van Eyck was very different from that of Theophilus
and Cennino, both of whom used linseed oil without the mixture of any
other substance. "It will be observed that lake even was used by Cennino
without any addition to increase its drying qualities. The only dryer he
mentions (as such) is verdigris, which he used for mordants only. The
difference in the texture of pictures painted in the Flemish (that is,
Van Eyck's manner) and those painted with oil alone, or with the modern
megilp, (oil and mastic varnish,) is so well known that it is scarcely
necessary to allude to it.
"Picture-cleaners are perfectly aware of this circumstance, having been
instructed by observing the manner in which different solvents act upon
such pictures, (spirit-of-wine, for instance, will dissolve old
pictures, but it has no effect on pictures painted with oil only.--See
_Lanzi._) Vasari gives no clue by which we can discover of what those
_mixtures_ consisted; but we know that what Vasari calls _vernice
liquida_ did not form part of them, because _that_ had been tried and
disapproved of.--See Vasari's _Lives of Antonello da Messina, and Alesso
Baldovinetti_. It is probable that the ingredients were common and
cheap, or they would not have been accessible to the greater part of
Europe; and they appear to have been equally successful in the sunny
clime of Italy as in the fogs of Holland."
The translator here entirely agrees with the learned and indefatigable
Lanzi, who, aware of discrepancies of dates, ascribes the "_perfect_"
method to Van Eyck. He gives full credit to _the facts_ as stated by
Vasari, and speaks of the difficulties he lay under in obtaining any
certain dates, particularly with regard to Venetian matters. That
painting in oil was known long prior to Van Eyck, no one who has read
the documents upon the subject can for a moment doubt; but it was, in
the common way, so inferior in brilliancy, and probably in facility of
use to other methods, that it ceased to be in use. It seems pretty clear
that this "perfect method" came from Flanders, first to Naples, then to
Venice; and probably by means of Antonello da Messina, (however some
dates may disagree, or it may be possible there were two of that name to
have given some confusion to the dates.) In fact, no dates but the
strictly historical can be depended upon. There are pictures at Venice
with the name of Antonello, and dated 1474--years after his supposed
death. We can scarcely suppose that the "noble-minded" Vasari would have
fabricated an epitaph for Antonello, if none had ever existed; we know
how easily not only epitaphs, but the very monuments that bear them,
are removed to give place to others. Vasari does not say, in quoting
this inscription, that Antonello was the first who painted in oil, but
the first who gave splendour, &c. "Sed et quod coloribus oleo miscendis
splendorem et perpetuitatem Italiae contulit." And Hackert says, that
this Antonello lived some years in Venice, receiving payment from the
state. "Ob mirum hic ingenium Venctiis aliquot annos publice condutus
vixit." His celebrity arose from the introduction of the Flemish manner
into Italy. The murder of Domenico at Florence, to whom it is said
Antonello had imparted the secret, cannot be denied; it was notorious,
and must be confirmed by public documents; nor can we imagine so
"noble-minded" a writer as Vasari would have mentioned the disclosure of
the murder by Castagno himself, if the fact had not been notorious. We
set aside the labyrinth of dates, which, with regard to the same
persons' lives and deaths, are inconsistent and irreconcilable; still
there remains a continuous story, not only probable as to its facts, but
confirmed by works that exist at this day; for whatever may have been
the oil-painting of an earlier age, (and it must be observed, as Lanzi
remarks, that there is no certainty that many of the works said to have
been in oil, were of that vehicle, for chemists have doubted, and some
have been of contrary opinion,) the oil-painting of that precise period
when it is said by Vasari to have been introduced into Italy, and as it
continued subsequently, is quite a different thing--and exactly agrees
with the description of it given by Vasari, and as it was practised in
his time. Vasari was but a little more than a century after the supposed
discovery of Van Eyck, and was born soon after the death of Raffaelle,
and must have known that he was speaking of a vehicle that was not oil
alone. It may be here worth while to put down what Vasari does say with
respect to Van Eyck's vehicle--that John of Bruges having cracked a
picture by exposing it to the sun to dry, being "filosofo e filologo a
sufficienza," made many experiments, and "trovo che l'olio de lino e
quello de noce erano i piu seccativi. Questi dunque bolliti con altre
sue misture gli fecero la vernice ch' egli, e tutti pittori del mondo
aveano lungamente desiderata"--"found that linseed and nut oil were the
most siccative. These, then, boiled together with his other mixtures
made the varnish, (vehicle,) which he and all the painters of the world
had long desired." Lanzi here well observes, that the expression "long
desired," shows that there must have been many attempts to make oils
properly subservient to the painter's use, and that there was none
successful until Van Eyck's "solo quella perfetta;" which, as Vasari
says, "secca non teme acqua, che accende i colori e gli fa lucidi, e gli
unisce mirabilmente"--"which when dry does not fear water, heightens the
colours and makes them lucid, and unites them in a wonderful manner." We
have a picture by this Van Eyck in our National Gallery; he must have no
eyes who will believe that it was painted with oil alone. We have the
Correggios--we say the same of them--we have the proof from the
experience of picture-cleaners, the hardness of the old paint, and the
test of spirits-of-wine, which, as Mrs Merrifield states, solves the
paint of old pictures, and leaves the modern untouched. In a former
paper, in which we dwelt much on this subject, we mentioned that we had
the report of a very scientific friend, who had spent nearly a life of
leisure and competence in experiments on pictures, that the paint of the
old masters _fused_, not only where white lead had been used, but in
every part; and we ourselves saw him try the experiment upon the
background of an old picture, by means of the blow-pipe, and the result
was a fused substance--a glass. We here leave the question of the
discovery of a vehicle by Van Eyck, or by any other person, satisfied
that there was a discovery by some one at some time, of a vehicle
different from the first painting with oil, and from any of modern use.
To dispute this fact, appears to us as absurd as if any one should deny
the discovery of America, because there may be disputes as to dates and
persons of the first discoverers. We are only surprised that Tambroni
and others do not take any notice of the chemical differences in the
substances of old and new paint--we mean subsequent to the supposed
discovery; and we confess we are surprised at the unworthy,
unsatisfactory, and ambiguous manner in which Tambroni settles the
matter. "Now, being willing to act with generosity towards this noble
writer, and to believe that his religion was not overcome by deception,
we should perhaps be able to admit that we were indebted to John of
Bruges for the practice of tempering colours with both nut and linseed
oils, and to Antonello for having used and made common, through all
Italy, a method which, in beauty, greatly exceeds distemper-painting,
which, until his time, had always been preferred." Does he really mean,
or believe, that this new method consisted only in the use of linseed
and nut oils? Is he acquainted with the works of John of Bruges, or with
that picture of Andrea del Castagno, the supposed murderer of Domenico,
which is called by Guarienti "the wonder of painting;" and which, by the
description of its finish, _particularly of the room in which the action
is represented_, is supposed to have been an imitation of the style of
the Flemish master? If it be asked, how could any good practice in any
art be lost? we have only to answer that we are not bound to _account_
for a notorious fact with regard to arts in general. Many have been
totally lost; but the troubles, the plague, and dispersion of artists in
Italy, and the charm of novelty, may be sufficient to account for these
changes. Lanzi every where laments them, and tells us that Nicolo
Franchini became famous for detaching pieces of paint from old pictures
of inferior value, to match deficiencies in more valuable.
Although we would here willingly end the discussion as to the discovery,
we feel ourselves irresistibly led by the importance of the subject to
make a few observations, and perhaps throw out a few hints, presuming
that they are nothing more than hints, which suggest themselves upon
paying some little attention to the actual words of Vasari; and this we
do solely with regard to vehicles. Why, we should ask, did Van Eyck dry
his picture in the sun, and which seems to have been the practice? As
far as we know the nature of gums, there is no difficulty in their
drying, without the necessity of resorting to any injurious practice.
Were these gums in any degree mixed with undrying substances? Why does
Vasari say "che secca non teme acqua"--"which, dry, does not fear
water?" Why does he mention water at all? for, supposing that he knew of
oil-painting without these "altre sue misture," there would appear to be
no occasion that he should mention, as a distinct property of this new
vehicle, that which was common with that and the older practice. Here a
suggestion seems to let in a glimmer of light. Did he convert these oils
into a soap, which, when dry, was no longer soluble in water? Will this
be the case with saponaceous oils? Unquestionably. One of the objections
made by Lanzi to the changes from the good old method was, as when he
speaks of Maria Crespi, that the paint was common and _oily_, and
elsewhere complains of "oily appearances." The "colori oleosi" is
perfectly descriptive, too, of our modern paint, notwithstanding that
our painters try in vain to disguise the "oily" appearance by the
admixture of varnishes, and that not a new practice, as we find from
Cennino, but one rejected. But can oil be deprived of this appearance?
We presume it was deprived of this quality by that process by which,
when dry, it did not "fear water"--"secca non teme acqua." Oils are
rendered saponaceous by alkalis. We mentioned in former papers
experiments of our scientific friend, P. Rainier, M.D. of the Albany,
and his use of borax with the oil. The borax he vitrified; and it was
because the paint mixed with this oil and borax vitrified also, after
the manner of the paint of the old masters, he so used it; but nothing
occurred to him about water. We suggested that if this, his medium,
resembled the old, it was probably miscible with water, as water would
seem to have been introduced into the Venetian practice. Upon this we
tried it, and found we could at pleasure dip the brush in this medium,
or in water, and then into the paint, and work with great facility, the
greater use of the water giving that _crumbly_ appearance so often
perceptible in the Venetian school; and this effect we found might be
increased or omitted at pleasure. And this medium, made by mixing water
with the oil through the agency of borax, when dry might be washed even
with warm water with perfect impunity. _When dry it did not fear water_;
though a saponaceous medium, it was not again soluble in water. What
does Vasari mean by "che accende i colori"--"which heightens the
colours?" Borax is an alkali. Alkalis are known to heighten colours, "e
gli fa lucidi;" now, linseed and nut oil _alone_, particularly the
former, takes away the _lucid_ character from paint. Had Vasari been
describing the working of this vehicle of P. Rainier, he could not have
better described it than in the very words "gli unisce mirabilmente;"
for it is astonishing how nicely to the hand, and to the degrees
desired, these repugnant liquids unite the colours. It is singular
enough that soda, which is a form of borax, is the actual constituent
part of some of our most permanent colours--we need but mention
ultramarine; and here we are tempted to transcribe a passage from the
translator's preface, which exactly falls in with this our view.--"The
use made by the early Italian artists of lyes (lisciva) is deserving of
our notice and consideration. Cennino does not inform us how this lye
was prepared; but it has been ascertained that lyes produced from
pouring water on wood-ashes, from solutions of borax, and also of soda
in water, were then used. We find from Cennino's book that ultramarine
(of which soda is a constituent part) was prepared with it; that it was
also used in preparing _azzuro della magna_, (an ore of cobalt,) and
_zafferano_. It has been likewise ascertained that soda has a preserving
influence on red, yellow, and black pigments; and the result of
experiments on these colours has been so satisfactory, that a certain
quantity of soda--or, to speak more correctly, of _soap_, which is a
compound of soda with fat or oil, (but not drying oil)--is now used in
preparing pigments for painting sails for the British navy. It is also
used in the manufacture of printing-ink; and we have now Cennino's
authority for using it with _blue_ pigments. Sir Humphrey Davy informs
us, that the Vestorian or Egyptian azure, the excellence of which is
proved by its duration of 1700 years, may be easily imitated by
carbonate of soda, opaque flint, and copper filings. The translator has
made many experiments on the effect of the alkalis and neutral salts
when mixed with colours, and has every reason to be satisfied with the
addition of soda, when properly used." We have not ourselves tried
sufficiently soda with oil, and have suspected it would not have the
effect of rendering the paint hard; but that borax does render the paint
very hard we have abundant proof. We have subjected a picture painted
with it to the razor to scrape it down, and could with difficulty
succeed, though the picture had not been long painted; and we have
rolled together masses of paint so mixed, and they have been thought by
persons into whose hands we have put them, stone. We have heard artists,
who have tried this mixture of borax and oil, declare it had the
contrary effect; but, on enquiry, found that they procured the vehicle
from colour-makers, who sold them, we have good grounds for believing, a
mixture of their own, in which, if borax formed any part, mastic varnish
formed a much larger. Among our papers we found one sent us by Dr
Rainier; we were not chemists enough to make it intelligible, and for
that recipe which we give in a note,[6] we are indebted to our friend
Mr C. T. Coathupe of Bristol, on whose chemical and general scientific
knowledge we have great reliance, and who much confirmed our view, or
rather Rainier's, of the advantage of rendering the oils saponaceous by
the means of borax. In consequence of our communication with him, Mr
Coathupe published in the _Art Union_ one or two very valuable papers in
1842. In speaking of this vehicle we do so the more boldly as it is not
our own, nor do we claim the least merit on account of it; it is solely
the discovery, or re-discovery, be it which it may, of our ever valued
friend Rainier, now no more. Without saying that it is or is not _the_
old one, "che tutti i pittori del mondo aveano lungamente desiderata,"
we do not hesitate to say that it is a good one, and does obviate those
"oily appearances so disagreeable to the eye"; and we are the more
confirmed in our belief in its beneficial quality, by the authorities Mr
Coathupe and Mr Field, the well-known scientific author of
"chromatography;" and we are much gratified to be able to offer an
extract from a letter from Mr Field upon the subject:--"I am accordingly
ready to admit all the uses of Mr Rainier's medium, and go with him in
believing the old painters may have employed it--the Venetians in
particular, who were at that time the medium between Europe and India,
in the latter of which countries borax had been employed in painting
time immemorial." It should here be remarked that Mr Field, in one of
his valuable publications, mentions a mixture of lac and oil by means of
borax in certain proportions. They do not, however, readily mix,
especially in cold weather. The translator does not seem to be aware
that borax is the solvent for lac; she mentions "sulphuric or muriatic
acid," but water with borax alone will dissolve lac before it boils.[7]
We would venture to recommend some experiments with lac dissolved in
borax to water-colour painters. It is by no means improbable that some
of the old Greek paintings are in gum lac; the hardness ascribed to
them, and their brilliancy too, and that they rather chip off than
crack, seem to answer the properties of lac; and it is curious that lac
so dissolved is durable, and not again soluble in water. It _may_
therefore be worth while to try experiments with it, both for solid
painting with white lead, as likewise as an addition of power partially
used for water-colours. We know not if the ancients had any means of
discharging the colour, (though a weak solution, in cases of solid
painting, may not be very objectional,) but shell-lac can now be
rendered perfectly white.
The reader will be disappointed if he expects to find in "Cennino
Cennini" a treatise on art. It is nothing more than a book of
receipts--very minute and circumstantial as to most particulars, while
here and there is a provoking omission; as, for instance, he speaks of a
varnish, but omits to say of what materials composed. However curious
much of the matter may be, the modern painter, who has to send to the
nearest colour-maker for his tube colours, and French brushes, will
think the greater part superfluous, and will smile to be told--"Take the
tails of the minever, (for no other are good,) and these tails must be
baked, and not raw." Nor will he trouble himself with Cennino's list of
colours, though it would perhaps be better for him if he did enter a
little into their chemical properties. Cennino mentions twenty-four
pigments; but the best he considers to be but twelve. It is curious that
among them are no browns. We have always been of the opinion that the
old masters, for the most part, made their browns with blacks and reds
and yellows, and gave them depth by glazing over with the same; and we
are pretty much of Wilson's mind, who, when told of a new brown, said "I
am sorry for it." Very many of our modern pictures are ruined by the
violent contrasts of the asphaltum and similar browns with less
obtrusive pigments. The very transparency is, in our eyes, an objection.
Asphaltum, for instance, besides that it is a changeable and never
thoroughly drying pigment, _is too transparent_ for depth. It was a
mistake of Gainsborough when he said that with asphaltum he would make a
Tartarus; the depth would be but a little way from the surface; depth is
not always intensity of darkness, and never of colour. There is a style
of flashy painting which entirely depends on these transparent browns;
but it is nevertheless not a good style; it is flimsy, and the _depth_
aimed at is missed. The more simple the palette, the better will be the
picture. We are taught by the practice as well as words of Titian, who
said that "whoever would be a painter, should be well acquainted with
three colours, and have a perfect command over them." There are some
excellent observations on this subject in the translator's preface, who
quotes from Sir Humphrey Davy on colours. "If red and yellow ochres,
blacks and whites, were the colours most employed by Protogenes and
Apelles, so are they likewise the colours most employed by Raffaelle and
Titian in their best style. The St John and Venus in the tribune of the
gallery at Florence offer striking examples of pictures, in which all
the deeper tints are evidently produced by red and yellow ochres, and
carbonaceous substances." Cennino's argument for the use of fine gold
and good colours, will be read with more attention by the modern
Germans, who have, it is said, for the purposes of their art joined the
Catholic Church, than by our English artists, with whom it will but
raise a smile, that the artist should be liberal in both, for that if
his patron pays him not, our Lady will reward him for it in soul and
body. If the practice of poor Cennino was in accordance with this
recommendation, he must have been very pious in his resignation, for his
reward was a prison in his old age. Cennino acquaints us how to make and
prepare pannels, cloth-grounds, cements, and glues; and doubtless some
of his recipes will be found practically useful. For temperas (vehicles)
many recipes are given. There are two kinds of egg tempera deserving
attention mentioned, and the practice of painting in the egg tempera,
and afterwards glazing in oil-colour. The translator particularly
recommends in a note this mode of painting, and quotes from Mr Field's
Chromatography the following passage:--"Mr Clover has successfully
employed the yolk of egg for sketching in body colours, in the manner
and with the entire effect of oil, which sketches being varnished have
retained their original purity of hue, more especially in the whites,
and flexibility of texture, without a crack, after many years in a
London atmosphere." The translator recommends it from her own practice
and experience.
We have ourselves, in this Magazine, on a former occasion, spoken of a
sort of distemper painting--though to give it that name is not very
highly to recommend it. We have, nevertheless, found it very good, and
admirably adapted for getting in a subject, as affording means of great
rapidity of execution. We allude to the admixture of starch and oil--the
less oil the more like distemper will it be; or, we should rather say,
fresco, which it much more resembles; but oil may be used with it in any
proportion. The starch should be made as for domestic use, with water
saturated with borax, and the oil added by degrees, and the whole
stirred up together while warm; and, in this medium, the colours should
be ground as well as worked. It is curious that here, too, the borax is
of use; for it not only enables the oil to mix with the water of the
starch, but it gives the starch a consistence and toughness, which
without it it never possesses. We have found colours retain their hue
and purity remarkably well with this vehicle. The whole bears out
equally, but without shining. The second painting may produce any
desired richness. It is not unpleasant to paint upon a wet ground made
with this vehicle, when the picture and ground will dry and harden
together.
There is no colour concerning which we are more at a loss in looking at
old pictures, than the blues. Three are mentioned by Cennino--indigo, a
cobalt, and ultramarine. With regard to the sparing use of the latter,
as the most expensive, some practical hints may be met with. We have
often wondered with what blue their deep-toned cool greens were made, as
in the landscapes of Gaspar Poussin. It was probably Cennino's _azzuro
della magna_ (German blue or cobalt.) Prussian blue is of recent
invention. We believe Mr Field considers it a good colour. It is made of
so many hues that it is difficult to procure good, and it is said to be
affected by iron. We have heard indigo complained of as a fugitive
colour; Cennino mentions it for skies with a tempera of glue. He
mentions, likewise, a green cobalt, or _azzuro della magna_. White lead,
according to him, may be used with all temperas. He says it is the only
white that can be used in pictures; the whites in the old pictures are
very pure, so that we may be satisfied of its durability. Many artists
have doubted if the white of the best painters was white lead, and many
substitutes have been proposed. We may rest assured, by the authority of
Cennino, that the fault is not in the lead, but in the vehicle, whenever
it changes. There is a letter of Titian's, in which he laments the death
of the maker of his white; it was made, therefore, we are to suppose,
with particular care, as the principal pigment for light.
Orpiment, which was so much in use in Sir Joshua's time, the ill effects
of which is visible in the President's "Holy Family" in our National
Gallery, was no great favourite in the olden time. In the note upon this
pigment, the translator takes occasion to speak of powdered glass, in
reference to a remark of Dr Ure, that powdered glass is mixed with it,
which renders it lighter. Mrs Merrifield infers from this, that it,
powdered glass, is opaque. Undoubtedly it is so in its dry state, and
probably with the glue tempera, which alone, according to Cennino, is
its proper vehicle--but mixed with oil it is transparent--and mixed in
much body with pigments, will give them great richness, and that degree
of transparency, even to pigments rather opaque, which we observe in the
substance of the pigments of the best time. China clay, and magnesia
too, are opaque in their powdered and dry state, but mixed with the
pigments, vary their power _ad libitum_, precisely by the transparency
they afford. These two latter substances have likewise a corrective
quality upon oils, and we are assured by Mr Coathupe, and have certainly
found it to be so, that magnesia is a dryer. We have boiled magnesia and
oil together, very thick and jelly-like, and leaving the pipkin exposed,
have been surprised to find no skin upon the surface. Mrs Merrifield
certainly errs in thinking glass, when mixed with oils, opaque. The
blacks of Cennino are from a stone, and opaque; from vine tendrils,
("very black and transparent;") from skins of almonds and kernels of
peaches, ("a perfect and fine black;") and lamp black, from the smoke of
linseed oil. Mr Field observes, that all carbonaceous blacks mixed with
white have a preserving influence upon colours, owing chemically to the
bleaching power of carbon, and chromatically to the neutralizing and
contrasting power of black with white. Leonardo da Vinci in his palette,
the account of which is so unfortunately broken off for lack of paper,
mentions the mixing every colour with black. Yet we have met with many
painters who totally reject it, and fancy it makes their pictures black.
This is very absurd, for black mixed with any other pigment ceases to be
black; and an artist may paint very black pictures without the use of
that pigment. What Titian recommends, one who would be a colourist need
not reject. It seems there was of old much caution that iron should not
touch the colours. Yet there is, we believe, much iron in ochres. Mr
Coathupe has clearly shown, that even Naples yellow does not suffer from
contact with iron, otherwise than by abrasion, by which the steel of the
knife becomes itself a pigment, as on the hone. Modern science has much
enlarged the colour list. There is thus the greater temptation offered
to make endless varieties. It has been remarked in language, that the
best writers have the most brief vocabulary--so it may be, that the best
colourists will have the fewest colours. The rule has been verified in
the old masters of the best time. Cennino Cennini, who always begins
from the beginning, recommends drawing with the pen--his pen, for that
also he tells you how to make, had no slit. O days of Perryian
innovation! It was very well, a vast improvement, almost equal to that
of adding the shirt to the ruffles, to invent one slit--we have them now
with two and with three.
Very strict studies in anatomy were not much in vogue among the early
painters. Our author recommends drawing from nature, and lays down his
canon of proportions of the human body, which will be little heeded by
our academies. The old Italian is not very complimentary to the sex. Mr
Etty will open his eyes with alarm, to find he has been practising all
his life in a wrong direction, when he reads "leave that of woman, for
there are none perfectly proportioned." We are not quite certain, if
some of Mr Etty's stay-spoiled figures are taken for examples, but that
the opinion of the old Italian may be in some credit. We spoke in the
commencement of this paper, of the "Gummi Fornis," which M. Merimee
concluded to be copal. The translator, in a note, offers a conjecture,
not without its probability, that it may have been sandarac, the
"Vernice da Scrivere" of Cennino, and quotes Raffaello Borghini in his
"Reposo." If you would have your varnish brilliant, use much
sandarac--it makes certainly a very hard varnish--it is difficult to
combine it with oil. We suppose it to have been one of the condemned
novelties as a vehicle for painting, from its being included in the
condemned list of trash, as only fit to polish boots, that moved the
satirical pen of Boschini:--
"O de che strazze se fa cavedal!
D'ogio d'avezzo, mastice e sandraca,
E trementina (per no dir triaca)
Robe che ilusterave ogni stival."