[21] In the Dresden Gallery, a picture attributed to Titian--at

all events a lucid Venetian picture--hangs next the St. George of

Correggio. After looking at the latter, the Venetian work appears

glassy and unsubstantial, but on reversing the order of comparison,

the Correggio may be said to suffer more, and for a moment its fine

transitions of light and shade seem changed to heaviness.

[22] The finest works of Tintoret---the Crucifixion and the Miracolo

del Servo (considered here merely with reference to their colour,)

may be said to combine the excellences of Titian and Giacomo Bassan,

on a grand scale; the sparkling clearness of the latter is one of the

prominent characteristics of these pictures. Tintoret is reported to

have once said that a union of his own knowledge of form with Bassan's

colour would be the perfection of painting. See "Verei Notizie de'

Pittori di Bassano;" Ven. 1775, p. 61.

[23] That this last quality, the characteristic of Bassan's best

pictures, was held in high estimation by Paul Veronese, is not only

evident from that painter's own works, but from the circumstance of his

preferring to place his sons with Bassan rather than with any other

painter. (See "Boschini Carta del Navegar," p. 280.) The Baptism of

Sta. Lucilla, in Boschini's time considered the finest of Giacomo's

works, is still in the church of S. Valentino, at Bassano, and may be

considered the type of the lucid and sparkling manner.

NOTE F.--Par. 83.

The author, in these instances, seems to be anticipating his

subsequent explanations on the effect of semi-transparent mediums.

For an explanation of the general view contained in these paragraphs

respecting the gradual increase of colour from high light, see the last

Note.

The anonymous French work before alluded to, among other interesting

examples, contains a chapter on shadows cast by the upper light of the

sky and coloured by the setting sun. The effect of this remarkable

combination is, that the light on a wall is most coloured immediately

under a projecting roof, and becomes comparatively neutralised in

proportion to its distance from the edge of the darkest shade.

NOTE G.--Par. 98.

"The simplest case of the phenomenon, which Goethe calls a subjective

halo, and one which at once explains its cause, is the following.

Regard a red wafer on a sheet of white paper, keeping the eye

stedfastly fixed on a point at its center. When the retina is

fatigued, withdraw the head a little from the paper, and a green halo

will appear to surround the wafer. By this slight increase of distance

the image of the wafer itself on the retina becomes smaller, and the

ocular spectrum which before coincided with the direct image, being

now relatively larger, is seen as a surrounding ring."--S. F. Goethe

mentions cases of this kind, but does not class them with subjective

halos. See Par. 30.

NOTE H.--Par. 113.

"Cases of this kind are by no means uncommon. Several interesting

ones are related in Sir John Herschell's article on Light in the

Encyclopædia Metropolitana. Careful investigation has, however, shown

that this defect of vision arises in most, if not in all cases, from

an inability to perceive the red, not the blue rays. The terms are so

confounded by the individuals thus affected, that the comparison of

colours in their presence is the only criterion."--S. F.

NOTE I.--Par. 135.

The author more than once admits that this chapter on "Pathological

Colours" is very incomplete, and expresses a wish (Par. 734) that some

medical physiologists would investigate the subject further. This was

afterwards in a great degree accomplished by Dr. Johannes Müller, in

his memoir "Über die Phantastischen Gesichtserscheinungen." Coblentz,

1826. Similar phenomena have been also investigated with great labour

and success by Purkinje. For a collection of extraordinary facts of the

kind recorded by these writers, the reader may consult Scott's Letters

on Demonology and Witchcraft.[1] The instances adduced by Müller and

others are, however, intended to prove the inherent capacity of the

organ of vision to produce light and colours. In some maladies of the

eye, the patient, it seems, suffers the constant presence of light

without external light. The exciting principle in this case is thus

proved to be within, and the conclusion of the physiologists is that

external light is only one of the causes which produce luminous and

coloured impressions. That this view was anticipated by Newton may be

gathered from the concluding "query" in the third book of his Optics.

[1] See also a curious passage on the beatific vision of the monks of

Mount Athos, in Gibbon, chap. 63.

NOTE K.--Par. 140.

"Catoptrical colours. The colours included under this head are

principally those of fibres and grooved surfaces; they can be produced

artificially by cutting parallel grooves on a surface of metal from

2000 to 10,000 in the inch. See 'Brewster's Optics,' p. 120. The

colours called by Goethe _paroptical_, correspond with those produced

by the diffraction or inflection of light in the received theory.--See

Brewster, p. 95. The phenomena included under the title 'Epoptical

Colours,' are generally known as the colours of thin plates. They vary

with the thickness of the film, and the colour seen by reflection

always differs from that seen by transmission. The laws of these

phenomena have been thoroughly investigated. See Nobili, and Brewster,

p. 100."--S. F.

The colours produced by the transmission of polarised light through

chrystalised mediums, were described by Goethe, in his mode,

subsequently to the publication of his general theory, under the name

of Entoptic Colours. See note to Par. 485.

NOTE L.--Par. 150.

We have in this and the next paragraph the outline of Goethe's system.

The examples that follow seem to establish the doctrine here laid

down, but there are many cases which it appears cannot be explained on

such principles: hence, philosophers generally prefer the theory of

absorption, according to which it appears that certain mediums "have

the property of absorbing some of the component rays of white light,

while they allow the passage of others."[1]

Whether all the facts adduced by Goethe--for instance, that recorded

in Par. 172, are to be explained by this doctrine, we leave to the

investigators of nature to determine. Dr. Eckermann, in conversing with

Goethe, thus described the two leading phenomena (156, 158) as seen by

him in the Alps. "At a distance of eighteen or twenty miles at mid-day

in bright sunshine, the snow appeared yellow or even reddish, while the

dark parts of the mountain, free from snow, were of the most decided

blue. The appearances did not surprise me, for I could have predicted

that the mass of the interposed medium would give a deep yellow tone

to the white snow, but I was pleased to witness the effect, since it

so entirely contradicted the erroneous views of some philosophers,

who assert that the air has a blue-tinging quality. The observation,

said Goethe, is of importance, and contradicts the error you allude to

completely."[2]

The same writer has some observations to the same effect on the colour

of the Rhone at Geneva. A circumstance of an amusing nature which he

relates in confirmation of Goethe's theory, deserves to be inserted.

"Here (at Strasburg), passing by a shop, I saw a little glass bust

of Napoleon, which, relieved as it was against the dark interior of

the room, exhibited every gradation of blue, from milky light blue

to deep violet. I foresaw that the bust seen from within the shop

with the light behind it, would present every degree of yellow, and I

could not resist walking in and addressing the owner, though perfectly

unknown to me. My first glance was directed to the bust, in which, to

my great joy, I saw at once the most brilliant colours of the warmer

kind, from the palest yellow to dark ruby red. I eagerly asked if I

might be allowed to purchase the bust; the owner replied that he had

only lately brought it with him from Paris, from a similar attachment

to the emperor to that which I appeared to feel, but, as my ardour

seemed far to surpass his, I deserved to possess it. So invaluable

did this treasure seem in my eyes, that I could not help looking at

the good man with wonder as he put the bust into my hands for a few

franks. I sent it, together with a curious medal which I had bought

in Milan, as a present to Goethe, and when at Frankfort received the

following letter from him." The letter, which Dr. Eckermann gives

entire, thus concludes--"When you return to Weimar you shall see the

bust in bright sunshine, and while the transparent countenance exhibits

a quiet blue,[3] the thick mass of the breast and epaulettes glows with

every gradation of warmth, from the most powerful ruby-red downwards;

and as the granite statue of Memnon uttered harmonious sounds, so the

dim glass image displays itself in the pomp of colours. The hero is

victorious still in supporting the Farbenlehre."[4]

One effect of Goethe's theory has been to invite the attention of

scientific men to facts and appearances which had before been unnoticed

or unexplained. To the above cases may be added the very common, but

very important, fact in painting, that a light warm colour, passed in

a semi-transparent state over a dark one, produces a cold, bluish

hue, while the operation reversed, produces extreme warmth. On the

judicious application of both these effects, but especially of the

latter, the richness and brilliancy of the best-coloured pictures

greatly depends. The principle is to be recognised in the productions

of schools apparently opposite in their methods. Thus the practice

of leaving the ground, through which a light colour is apparent, as

a means of ensuring warmth and depth, is very common among the Dutch

and Flemish painters. The Italians, again, who preferred a solid

under-painting, speak of internal light as the most fascinating quality

in colour. When the ground is entirely covered by solid painting, as

in the works of some colourists, the warmest tints in shadows and

reflections have been found necessary to represent it. This was the

practice of Rembrandt frequently, and of Reynolds universally, but the

glow of their general colour is still owing to its being repeatedly

or ultimately enriched on the above principle. Lastly, the works of

those masters who were accustomed to paint on dark grounds are often

heavy and opaque; and even where this influence of the ground was

overcome, the effects of time must be constantly diminishing the warmth

of their colouring as the surface becomes rubbed and the dark ground

more apparent through it. The practice of painting on dark grounds was

intended by the Carracci to compel the students of their school to

aim at the direct imitation of the model, and to acquire the use of

the brush; for the dark ground could only be overcome by very solid

painting. The result answered their expectations as far as dexterity of

pencil was concerned, but the method was fatal to brilliancy of colour.

An intelligent writer of the seventeenth century[5] relates that Guido

adopted his extremely light style from seeing the rapid change in some

works of the Carracci soon after they were done. It is important,

however, to remark, that Guido's remedy was external rather than

internal brilliancy; and it is evident that so powerless a brightness

as white paint can only acquire the splendour of light by great

contrast, and, above all, by being seen through external darkness. The

secret of Van Eyck and his contemporaries is always assumed to consist

in the vehicle (varnish or oils) he employed; but a far more important

condition of the splendour of colour in the works of those masters was

the careful preservation of internal light by painting thinly, but

ultimately with great force, on white grounds. In some of the early

Flemish pictures in the Royal Gallery at Munich, it may be observed,

that wherever an alteration was made by the painter, so that a light

colour is painted over a dark one, the colour is as opaque as in any

of the more modern pictures which are generally contrasted with such

works. No quality in the vehicle could prevent this opacity under such

circumstances; and on the other hand, provided the internal splendour

is by any means preserved, the vehicle is comparatively unimportant.

It matters not (say the authorities on these points) whether the effect

in question is attained by painting thinly over the ground, in the

manner of the early Flemish painters and sometimes of Rubens, or by

painting a solid light preparation to be afterwards toned to richness

in the manner of the Venetians. Among the mechanical causes of the

clearness of colours superposed on a light preparation may be mentioned

that of careful grinding. All writers on art who have descended to

practical details have insisted on this. From the appearance of some

Venetian pictures it may be conjectured that the colours of the

solid under-painting were sometimes less perfectly ground than the

scumbling colours (the light having to pass through the one and to

be reflected from the other). The Flemish painters appear to have

used carefully-ground pigments universally. This is very evident in

Flemish copies from Raphael, which, though equally impasted with

the originals, are to be detected, among other indications, by the

finely-ground colours employed.

[1] See "Müller's Elements of Physiology," translated from the German

by William Baly, M.D. "The laws of absorption," it has been observed,

"have not been studied with so much success as those of other phenomena

of physical optics, but some excellent observations on the subject

will be found in Herschell's Treatise on Light in the Encyclopædia

Metropolitana, § III."

[2] "Eckermann's Gespräche mit Goethe," vol. ii. p. 280. Leonardo da

Vinci had made precisely the same observation. "A distant mountain will

appear of a more beautiful blue in proportion as it is dark in colour.

The illumined air, interposed between the eye and the dark mass, being

thinner towards the summit of the mountain, will exhibit the darkness

as a deeper blue and _vice versâ_."--_Trattato della Pittura_, p. 143.

Elsewhere--"The air which intervenes between the eye and dark mountains

becomes blue; but it does not become blue in (before) the light part,

and much less in (before) the portion that is covered with snow."--p.

244.

[3] This supposes either that the mass was considerably thicker, or

that there was a dark ground behind the head, and a light ground behind

the rest of the figure.

[4] "Eckermann's Gespräche mit Goethe," vol. ii. p. 242.

[5] Scanelli, "Microcosmo della Pittura," Cesena, 1657, p. 114.

NOTE M.--Par. 177.

Without entering further into the scientific merits or demerits of

this chapter on the "First Class of Dioptrical Colours," it is to be

observed that several of the examples correspond with the observations

of Leonardo da Vinci, and again with those of a much older authority,

namely, Aristotle. Goethe himself admits, and it has been remarked by

others, that his theory, in many respects, closely resembles that of

Aristotle: indeed he confesses[1] that at one time he had an intention

of merely paraphrasing that philosopher's Treatise on Colours.[2]

We have already remarked (Note on par. 150) that Goethe's notion with

regard to the production of warm colours, by the interposition of dark

transparent mediums before a light ground, agrees with the practice of

the best schools in colouring; and it is not impossible that the same

reasons which may make this part of the doctrine generally acceptable

to artists now, may have recommended the very similar theory of

Aristotle to the painters of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries:

at all events, it appears that the ancient theory was known to those

painters.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the fact that the doctrines of Aristotle

were enthusiastically embraced and generally inculcated at the period

in question;[3] but it has not been observed that the Italian writers

who translated, paraphrased, and commented on Aristotle's Treatise

on Colours in particular, were in several instances the personal

friends of distinguished painters. Celio Calcagnini[4] had the highest

admiration for Raphael; Lodovico Dolce[5] was the eulogist of Titian;

Portius,[6] whose amicable relations with the Florentine painters may

be inferred from various circumstances, lectured at Florence on the

Aristotelian doctrines early in the sixteenth century. The Italian

translations were later, but still prove that these studies were

undertaken with reference to the arts, for one of them is dedicated to

the painter Cigoli.[7]

The writers on art, from Leon Battista Alberti to Borghini, without

mentioning later authorities, either tacitly coincide with the

Aristotelian doctrine, or openly profess to explain it. It is true this

is not always done in the clearest manner, and some of these writers

might say with Lodovico Dolce, "I speak of colours, not as a painter,

for that would be the province of the divine Titian."

Leonardo da Vinci in his writings, as in everything else, appears as

an original genius. He now and then alludes generally to opinions

of "philosophers," but he quotes no authority ancient or modern.

Nevertheless, a passage on the nature of colours, particularly where

he speaks of the colours of the elements, appears to be copied from

Leon Battista Alberti,[8] and from the mode in which some of Leonardo's

propositions are stated, it has been supposed[9] that he had been

accustomed at Florence to the form of the Aristotelian philosophy. At

all events, some of the most important of his observations respecting

light and colours, have a great analogy with those contained in the

treatise in question. The following examples will be sufficient to

prove this coincidence; the corresponding passages in Goethe are

indicated, as usual, by the numbers of the paragraphs; the references

to Leonardo's treatise are given at the bottom of the page.

Aristotle.

"A vivid and brilliant red appears when the weak rays of the

sun are tempered by subdued and shadowy white,"--154.

Leonardo

"The air which is between the sun and the earth at sun-rise

or sun-set, always invests what is beyond it more than any

other (higher) portion of the air: this is because it is

whiter."[10]

A bright object loses its whiteness in proportion to its

distance from the eye much more when it is illuminated by

the sun, for it partakes of the colour of the sun mingled

with the colour (tempered by the mass) of the air interposed

between the eye and the brightness.[11]

Aristotle.

"If light is overspread with much obscurity, a red colour

appears; if the light is brilliant and vivid, this red

changes to a flame-colour."[12]--150, 160.

Leonardo.

"This (the effect of transparent colours on various grounds)

is evident in smoke, which is blue when seen against black,

but when it is opposed to the (light) blue sky, it appears

brownish and reddening."[13]

Aristotle.

"White surfaces as a ground for colours, have the effect of

making the pigments[14] appear in greater splendour."--594,

902.

Leonardo.

"To exhibit colours in their beauty, the whitest ground

should be prepared. I speak of colours that are (more or

less) transparent."[15]

Aristotle.

"The air near us appears colourless; but when seen in depth,

owing to its thinness it appears blue;[16] for where the

light is deficient (beyond it), the air is affected by the

darkness and appears blue: in a very accumulated state,

however, it appears, as is the case with water, quite

white."--155, 158.

Leonardo.

"The blue of the atmosphere is owing to the mass of

illuminated air interposed between the darkness above and

the earth. The air in itself has no colour, but assumes

qualities according to the nature of the objects which are

beyond it. The blue of the atmosphere will be the more

intense in proportion to the degree of darkness beyond it:"

elsewhere--"if the air had not darkness beyond it, it would

be white."[17]

Aristotle.

"We see no colour in its pure state, but every hue is

variously intermingled with others: even when it is

uninfluenced by other colours, the effect of light and

shade modifies it in various ways, so that it undergoes

alterations and appears unlike itself. Thus, bodies seen in

shade or in light, in more pronounced or softer sun-shine,

with their surfaces inclined this way or that, with every

change exhibit a different colour."

Leonardo.

"No substance will ever exhibit its own hue unless the light

which illumines it is entirely similar in colour. It very

rarely happens that the shadows of opaque bodies are really

similar (in colour) to the illumined parts. The surface of

every substance partakes of as many hues as are reflected

from surrounding objects."[18]

Aristotle.

"So, again, with regard to the light of fire, of the moon,

or of lamps, each has a different colour, which is variously

combined with differently coloured objects."

Leonardo.

"We can scarcely ever say that the surface of illumined

bodies exhibits the real colour of those bodies. Take a

white band and place it in the dark, and let it receive

light by means of three apertures from the sun, from fire,

and from the sky: the white band will be tricoloured."[19]

Aristotle.

"When the light falls on any object and assumes (for

example) a red or green tint, it is again reflected on other

substances, thus undergoing a new change. But this effect,

though it really takes place, is not appreciable by the

eye: though the light thus reflected to the eye is composed

of a variety of colours, the principal of these only are

distinguishable."

Leonardo.

"No colour reflected on the surface of another colour,

tinges that surface with its own colour (merely), but will

be mixed with various other reflections impinging on the

same surface:" but such effects, he observes elsewhere, "are

scarcely, if at all, distinguishable in a very diffused

light."[20]

Aristotle.

"Thus, all combinations of colours are owing to three

causes: the light, the medium through which the light

appears, such as water or air, and lastly the local colour

from which the light happens to be reflected."

Leonardo.

"All illumined objects partake of the colour of the light

they receive.

"Every opaque surface partakes of the colour of the

intervening transparent medium, according to the density of

such medium and the distance between the eye and the object.

"The medium is of two kinds; either it has a surface, like

water, &c., or it is without a common surface, like the

air."[21]

In the observations on trees and plants more points of resemblance

might be quoted; the passages corresponding with Goethe's views are

much more numerous.

It is remarkable that Leonardo, in opposition, it seems to some

authorities,[22] agrees with Aristotle in reckoning black and white

as colours, placing them at the beginning and end of the scale.[23]

Like Aristotle, again, he frequently makes use of the term black, for

obscurity; he even goes further, for he seems to consider that blue

may be produced by the actual mixture of black and white, provided they

are pure.[24] The ancient author, however, explains himself on this

point as follows--"We must not attempt to make our observations on

these effects by mixing colours as painters mix them, but by remarking

the appearances as produced by the rays of light mingling with each

other."[25]

When we consider that Leonardo's Treatise professes to embrace the

subject of imitation in painting, and that Aristotle's briefly examines

the physical nature and appearance of colours, it must be admitted

that the latter sustains the above comparison with advantage; and it

is somewhat extraordinary that observations indicating so refined a

knowledge of nature, as regards the picturesque, should not have been

taken into the account, for such appears to be the fact, in the various

opinions and conjectures that have been expressed from time to time on

the painting of the Greeks. The treatise in question must have been

written when Apelles painted, or immediately before; and as a proof

that Aristotle's remarks on the effect of semi-transparent mediums were

not lost on the artists of his time, the following passage from Pliny

is subjoined, for, though it is well known, it acquires additional

interest from the foregoing extracts.

"He (Apelles) passed a dark colour over his pictures when finished, so

thin that it increased the splendour of the tints, while it protected

the surface from dust and dirt: it could only be seen on looking into

the picture. The effect of this operation, judiciously managed, was to

prevent the colours from being too glaring, and to give the spectator

the impression of looking through a transparent crystal. At the same

time it seemed almost imperceptibly to add a certain dignity of tone to

colours that were too florid." "This," says Reynolds, "is a true and

artist-like description of glazing or scumbling, such as was practised

by Titian and the rest of the Venetian painters."

The account of Pliny has, in this instance, internal evidence

of truth, but it is fully confirmed by the following passage in

Aristotle:--"Another mode in which the effect of colours is exhibited

is when they appear through each other, as painters employ them when

they glaze (ἐπαλειφοντες)[26] a (dark) colour over a lighter one; just

as the sun, which is in itself white, assumes a red colour when seen

through darkness and smoke. This operation also ensures a variety of

colours, for there will be a certain ratio between those which are on

the surface and those which are in depth."--_De Sensu et Sensili_.

Aristotle's notion respecting the derivation of colours from white and

black may perhaps be illustrated by the following opinion on the very

similar theory of Goethe.

"Goethe and Seebeck regard colour as resulting from the mixture of

white and black, and ascribe to the different colours a quality

of darkness (σκιερὸν), by the different degrees of which they are

distinguished, passing from white to black through the gradations

of yellow, orange, red, violet, and blue, while green appears to be

intermediate again between yellow and blue. This remark, though it has

no influence in weakening the theory of colours proposed by Newton,

is certainly correct, having been confirmed experimentally by the

researches of Herschell, who ascertained the relative intensity of the

different coloured rays by illuminating objects under the microscope by

their means, &c.

"Another certain proof of the difference in brightness of the different

coloured rays is afforded by the phenomena of ocular spectra. If, after

gazing at the sun, the eyes are closed so as to exclude the light, the

image of the sun appears at first as a luminous or white spectrum upon

a dark ground, but it gradually passes through the series of colours to

black, that is to say, until it can no longer be distinguished from the

dark field of vision; and the colours which it assumes are successively

those intermediate between white and black in the order of their

illuminating power or brightness, namely, yellow, orange, red, violet,

and blue. If, on the other hand, after looking for some time at the

sun we turn our eyes towards a white surface, the image of the sun is

seen at first as a black spectrum upon the white surface, and gradually

passes through the different colours from the darkest to the lightest,

and at last becomes white, so that it can no longer be distinguished

from the white surface"[27]--See par 40, 44.

It is not impossible that Aristotle's enumeration of the colours may

have been derived from, or confirmed by, this very experiment. Speaking

of the after-image of colours he says, "The impression not only exists

in the sensorium in the act of perceiving, but remains when the organ

is at rest. Thus if we look long and intently on any object, when

we change the direction of the eyes a responding colour follows. If

we look at the sun, or any other very bright object, and afterwards

shut our eyes, we shall, as if in ordinary vision, first see a colour

of the same kind; this will presently be changed to a red colour,

then to purple, and so on till it ends in black and disappears."--_De

Insomniis_.

[1] "Geschichte der Farbenlehre," in the "Nachgelassene Werke." Cotta,

1833.

[2] The treatise in question is ascribed by Goethe to Theophrastus,

but it is included in most editions of Aristotle, and even attributed

to him in those which contain the works of both philosophers; for

instance, in the Aldine Princeps edition, 1496. Calcagnini says, the

treatise is made up of two separate works on the subject, both by

Aristotle.

[3] His authority seems to have been equally great on subjects

connected with the phenomena of vision; the Italian translator of

a Latin treatise, by Portius, on the structure and colours of the

eye, thus opens his dedication to the Cardinal Ercole Gonzaga, of

Mantua:--"Grande anzi quasi infinito è l'obligo che ha il mondo con

quel più divino che umano spirito di Aristotile."

[4] In a letter to Ziegler the mathematician, Calcagnini speaks of

Raphael as "the first of painters in the theory as well as in the

practice of his art." This expression may, however, have had reference

to a remarkable circumstance mentioned in the same letter, namely,

that Raphael entertained the learned Fabius of Ravenna as a constant

guest, and employed him to translate Vitruvius into Italian. This MS.

translation, with marginal notes, written by Raphael, is now in the

library at Munich. "Passavant, Rafael von Urbino."

[5] Lodovico Dolce's Treatise on Colours (1565) is in the form of a

dialogue, like his "Aretino." The abridged theory of Aristotle is

followed by a translation of the Treatise of Antonius Thylesius on

Colours; this is adapted to the same colloquial form, and the author is

not acknowledged: the book ends with an absurd catalogue of emblems.

The "Somma della Filosofia d'Aristotile," published earlier by the same

author, is a very careless performance.

[6] A Latin translation of Aristotle's Treatise on Colours, with

comments by Simon Portius, was first published, according to Goethe,

at Naples in 1537. In a later Florentine edition, 1548, dedicated to

Cosmo I., Portius alludes to his having lectured at an earlier period

in Florence on the doctrines of Aristotle, at which time he translated

the treatise in question. Another Latin translation, with notes, was

published later in the same century at Padua--"Emanuele Marguino

Interprete:" but by far the clearest view of the Aristotelian theory

is to be found in the treatise of Antonio Vidi Scarmiglione of Fuligno

("De Coloribus," Marpurgi, 1591). It is dedicated to the Emperor

Rudolph II. Of all the paraphrases of the ancient doctrine this comes

nearest to the system of Goethe; but neither this nor any other of the

works alluded to throughout this Note are mentioned by the author in

his History of the Doctrine of Colours, except that of Portius.

[7] An earlier Italian translation appeared in Rome, 1535. See

"Argelatus Biblioteca degli Volgarizzatori."

[8] "Della Pittura e della Statua," Lib. I, p. 16, Milan edition,

1804. Compare with the "Trattato della Pittura," p. 141. Other points

of resemblance are to be met with. The notion of certain colours

appropriated to the four elements, occurs in Aristotle, and is indeed

attributed to older writers.

[9] See the notes to the Roman edition of the "Trattato della Pittura."

[10] Page 237.

[11] Page 301.

[12] In the Treatise _De Igne_, by Theophrastus, we find the same

notion thus expressed: "Brightness (_τὸ λευκὸν_) seen through a

dark coloured medium (_διὰ του μέλανος_) appears red; as the sun

seen through smoke or soot: hence the coal is redder than the

flame." Scarmiglione, from whom Kircher seems to have copied,

observes:--"Itaque color realis est lux opaca; licet id e plurimis

apparentiis colligere. Luna enim in magnâ solis eclipsi rubra

conspicitur, quia tenebris lux præpeditur ac veluti tegitur."--_De

Coloribus_.

[13] Page 122.

[14] _Τὰ ἂνθη_: translated _flores_ by Calcagnini and the rest, by

Goethe, _die Blüthe_, the bloom. That the word sometimes signified

pigments is sufficiently apparent from the following passage of

Suidas (quoted by Emeric David, "Discours Historiques sur la Peinture

Moderne") _ἂνθεσι κεκοσμημέναι, οἶον ψιμμιωίῳ φύκει καὶ τοῖς ὸμοίοις_.

Variis pigmentis ornatæ, ut cerussâ, fuco, et aliis similibus. (Suid.

in voc. _Ἐξμηθισμένας_.) A panel prepared for painting, with a white

ground consolidated with wax, and perhaps mastic, was found in

Herculaneum.

[15] Page 114.

[16] _Ἐν βάθει δὲ θεωρουμίνου ιγγυτάτω φαίνεται τῶ χρώματι κυανονοειδὴς

διὰ τὴν ὰραιότητα._ "But when seen in depth, it appears (even) in its

nearest colour, blue, owing to its thinness." The Latin interpretations

vary very much throughout. The point which is chiefly important is

however plain enough, viz. that darkness seen through a light medium is

blue.

[17] Page 136-430.

[18] Page 121, 306, 326, 387.

[19] Page 306.

[20] Page 104, 369.

[21] Page 236, 260, 328.

[22] "De' semplici colori il primo è il bianco: beuchè i filosofi non

accettano nè il bianco nè il nero nel numero de' colori."--p. 125, 141.

Elsewhere, however, he sometimes adopts the received opinion.

[23] Leon Battista Alberti, in like manner observes:--"Affermano (i

filosofi) che le spezie de' colori sono sette, cioè, che il bianco ed

il nero sono i duoi estremi, infra i quali ve n'è uno nel mezzo (rosso)

e che infra ciascuno di questi duoi estremi e quel del mezzo, da ogni

parte ve ne sono due altri." An absurd statement of Lomazzo, p. 190,

is copied verbatim from Lodovico Dolce (Somma della Filos. d'Arist.);

but elsewhere, p. 306, Lomazzo agrees with Alberti. Aristotle seems to

have misled the two first, for after saying there are seven colours,

he appears only to mention six: he says--"There are seven colours, if

brown is to be considered equivalent to black, which seems reasonable.

Yellow, again, may be said to be a modification of white. Between these

we find red, purple, green, and blue."--_De Sensu et Sensili_. Perhaps

it is in accordance with this passage that Leonardo da Vinci reckons

eight colours.--_Trattato_, p. 126.

[24] Page 122, 142, 237.

[25] On the authority of this explanation the word μιλάν has sometimes

been translated in the foregoing extracts _obscurity, darkness_.

Raffaello Borghini, in his attempt to describe the doctrine of

Aristotle with a view to painting, observes--"There are two

principles which concur in the production of colour, namely, light

and transparence." But he soon loses this clue to the best part of

the ancient theory, and when he has to speak of the derivation of

colours from white and black, he evidently understands it in a mere

atomic sense, and adds--"I shall not at present pursue the opinion

of Aristotle, who assumes black and white as principal colours, and

considers all the rest as intermediate between them."--_Il Riposo_, 1.

ii. Accordingly, like Lodovico Dolce, he proceeds to a subject where he

was more at home, namely, the symbolical meaning of colours.

[26] This word is only strictly applied to unctuous substances, and may

confirm the views of those writers who have conjectured that asphaltum

was a chief ingredient in the _atramentum_ of the ancients.

[27] "Elements of Physiology," by J. Müller, M.D., translated from the

German by William Baly, M.D. London, 1839.

NOTE N.--Par. 246.

"The appearance of white in the centre, according to the Newtonian

theory, arises from each line of rays forming its own spectrum.

These spectra, superposing each other on all the middle part, leave

uncorrected (unneutralised) colours only at the two edges."--S. F.[1]

[1] This was objected to Goethe when his "Beyträge sur Optik" first

appeared; he answered the objection by a coloured diagram in the plates

to the "Farbenlehre:" in this he undertakes to show that the assumed

gradual "correction" of the colours would produce results different

from the actual appearance in nature.

NOTE O.--Par. 252.

These experiments with grey objects, which exhibit different colours

as they are on dark or light grounds, were suggested, Goethe tells

us, by an observation of Antonius Lucas, of Lüttich, one of Newton's

opponents, and, in the opinion of the author, one of the few who made

any well-founded objections. Lucas remarks, that the sun acts merely

as a circumscribed image in the prismatic experiments, and that if the

same sun had a lighter background than itself, the colours of the prism

would be reversed. Thus in Goethe's experiments, when the grey disk is

on a dark ground, it is edged with blue on being magnified; when on a

light ground it is edged with yellow. Goethe acknowledges that Lucas

had in some measure anticipated his own theory.--Vol. ii. p. 440.

NOTE P.--Par. 284.

The earnestness and pertinacity with which Goethe insisted that

the different colours are not subject to different degrees of

refrangibility are at least calculated to prove that he was himself

convinced on the subject, and, however extraordinary it may seem, his

conviction appears to have been the result of infinite experiments

and the fullest ocular evidence. He returns to the question in the

controversial division of his work, in the historical part, and again

in the description of the plates. In the first he endeavours to show

that Newton's experiment with the blue and red paper depends entirely

on the colours being so contrived as to appear elongated or curtailed

by the prismatic borders. "If," he says, "we take a light-blue instead

of a dark one, the illusion (in the latter case) is at once evident.

According to the Newtonian theory the yellow-red (red) is the least

refrangible colour, the violet the most refrangible. Why, then, does

Newton place a blue paper instead of a violet next the red? If the

fact were as he states it, the difference in the refrangibility of

the yellow-red and violet would be greater than in the case of the

yellow-red and blue. But here comes in the circumstance that a violet

paper conceals the prismatic borders less than a dark-blue paper, as

every observer may now easily convince himself," &c.--Polemischer

Theil, par. 45. Desaguliers, in repeating the experiment, confessed

that if the ground of the colours was not black, the effect did

not take place so well. Goethe adds, "not only not so well, but

not at all."--Historischer Theil, p. 459. Lucas of Lüttich, one of

Newton's first opponents, denied that two differently-coloured silks

are different in distinctness when seen in the microscope. Another

experiment proposed by him, to show the unsoundness of the doctrine of

various refrangibility, was the following:--Let a tin plate painted

with the prismatic colours in stripes be placed in an empty cubical

vessel, so that from the spectator's point of view the colours may be

just hidden by the rim. On pouring water into this vessel, all the

colours become visible in the same degree; whereas, it was contended,

if the Newtonian doctrine were true, some colours would be apparent

before others.--Historischer Theil, p. 434.

Such are the arguments and experiments adduced by Goethe on this

subject; they have all probably been answered. In his analysis of

Newton's celebrated _Experimentum Crucis_, he shows again that by

reversing the prismatic colours (refracting a dark instead of a

light object), the colours that are the most refrangible in Newton's

experiment become the least so, and _vice versâ_.

Without reference to this objection, it is now admitted that "the

difference of colour is not a test of difference of refrangibility, and

the conclusion deduced by Newton is no longer admissible as a general

truth, that to the same degree of refrangibility ever belongs the

same colour, and to the same colour ever belongs the same degree of

refrangibility."--Brewster's Optics, p. 72.

NOTE Q--Par. 387.

With the exception of two very inconclusive letters to Sulpice

Boisserée, and some incidental observations in the conclusion of the

historical portion under the head of entoptic colours, Goethe never

returned to the rainbow. Among the plates he gave the diagram of

Antonius de Dominis. An interesting chapter on halos, parhelia, and

paraselenæ, will be found in Brewster's Optics, p. 270.

NOTE R.--Par. 478.

The most complete exhibition of the colouring or mantling of metals

was attained by the late Cav. Nobili, professor of physical science in

Florence. The general mode in which these colours are produced is thus

explained by him:[1]--

"A point of platinum is placed vertically at the distance of about

half a line above a lamina of the same metal laid horizontally at the

bottom of a vessel of glass or porcelain. Into this vessel a solution

of acetate of lead is poured so as to cover not only the lamina of

platinum, but two or three lines of the point as well. Lastly, the

point is put in communication with the negative pole of a battery, and

the lamina with the positive pole. At the moment in which the circuit

is completed a series of coloured rings is produced on the lamina

under the point similar to those observed by Newton in lenses pressed

together."

The scale of colours thus produced corresponds very nearly with that

observed by Newton and others in thin plates and films, but it is

fuller, for it extends to forty-four tints. The following list, as

given by Nobili, is divided by him into four series to agree with

those of Newton: the numbers in brackets are those of Newton's scale.

The Italian terms are untranslated, because the colours in some cases

present very delicate transitions.[2]

_First Series._

1. Biondo argentino (4).[3] 6. Fulvo acceso.

2. Biondo. 7. Rosso di rame (6).

3. Biondo d'oro. 8. Ocria.

4. Biondo acceso (5). 9. Ocria violacea.

5. Fulvo. 10. Rosso violaceo (7).

Second Series.

11. Violetto (8). 20. Giallo acceso.

12. Indaco (10). 21. Giallo-rancio.

13. Blu carico. 22. Rancio (13).

14. Blu. 23. Rancio-rossiccio.

15. Blu chiaro (11) 24. Rancio-rosso.

16. Celeste. 25. Rosso-rancio.

17. Celeste giallognolo. 26. Lacca-rancia (14).

18. Giallo chiarissimo (12). 27. Lacca.

19. Giallo. 28. Lacca accesa (15).

Third Series.

29. Lacca-purpurea (16). 34. Verde-giallo (20).

30. Lacca-turchiniccia (17). 35. Verde-rancio.

31. Porpora-verdognola (18). 36. Rancio-verde (21).

32. Verde (19). 37. Rancio-roseo.

33. Verde giallognolo. 38. Lacca-rosea (22).

Fourth Series.

39. Lacca-violacea (24). 43. Verde-giallo rossiccio (28).

40. Violaceo-verdognolo (25). 44. Lacca-rosea (30).

41. Verde (26).

42. Verde-giallo (27).

"These tints," Professor Nobili observes, "are disposed according to

the order of the thin mantlings which occasion them; the colour of

the thinnest film is numbered 1; then follow in order those produced

by a gradual thickening of the medium. I cannot deceive myself in

this arrangement, for the thin films which produce the colours are

all applied with the same electro-chemical process. The battery, the

solution, the distances, &c., are always the same; the only difference

is the time the effect is suffered to last. This is a mere instant for

the colour of No. 1, a little longer for No. 2, and so on, increasing

for the succeeding numbers. Other criterions, however, are not wanting

to ascertain the place to which each tint belongs."

The scale differs from that of Newton, inasmuch as there is no blue in

Nobili's first series and no green in the second: green only appears in

the third and fourth series. "The first series," says the Professor,

"is remarkable for the fire and metallic appearance of its tints, the

second for clearness and brilliancy, the third and fourth for force and

richness." The fourth, he observes, has the qualities of the third in a

somewhat lesser degree, but the two greens are very nearly alike.

It is to be observed, that red and green are the principal ingredients

in the third and fourth series, blue and yellow in the second and first.

[1] See "Memorie ed Osservazioni, edite et inedite del Cav. Professor

Nobili," Firenze, 1834.

[2] The colours in some of the compound terms are in a manner mutually

neutralising; such terms might, no doubt, be amended.

[3] The three first numbers in Newton's scale are black, blue, and

white.

NOTE S.--Par. 485.

A chapter on entoptic colours, contained in the supplement to Goethe's

works, was translated with the intention of inserting it among the

notes, but on the whole it was thought most advisable to omit it. Like

many other parts of the "Doctrine of Colours" it might have served as

a specimen of what may be achieved by accurate observation unassisted

by a mathematical foundation. The whole theory of the polarization of

light has, however, been so fully investigated since Goethe's time,

that the chapter in question would probably have been found to contain

very little to interest scientific readers, for whom it seems chiefly

to have been intended. One observation occurs in it which indeed has

more reference to the arts; in order to make this intelligible, the

leading experiment must be first described, and for this purpose the

following extracts may serve.

3.[1]

"The experiment, in its simplest form, is to be made as follows:--let

a tolerably thick piece of plate-glass be cut into several squares of

an inch and a half; let these be heated to a red heat and then suddenly

cooled. The squares of glass which do not split in this operation are

now fit to produce the entoptic colours.

4.

"In our mode of exhibiting the phenomenon, the observer is, above all,

to betake himself, with his apparatus to the open air. All dark rooms,

all small apertures (foramina exigua),[2] are again to be given up. A

pure, cloudless sky is the source whence we are derive a satisfactory

insight into the appearances.

5.

"The atmosphere being clear, let the observer lay the squares above

described on a black surface, so placing them that two sides may

be parallel with the plane of vision. When the sun is low, let him

hold the squares so as to reflect to the eye that portion of the sky

opposite to the sun, and he will then perceive four dark points in

the four corners of a light space. If, after this, he turn towards

the quarters of the sky at right angles with that where his first

observation was made, he will see four bright points on a dark ground:

between the two regions the figures appear to fluctuate.

6.

"From this simple reflection we now proceed to another, which, but

little more complicated, exhibits the appearance much more distinctly.

A solid cube of glass, or in its stead a cube composed of several

plates, is placed on a black mirror, or held a little inclined

above it, at sun-rise or sun-set. The reflection of the sky being

now suffered to fall through the cube on the mirror, the appearance

above described will appear more distinctly. The reflection of the

sky opposite to the sun presents four dark points on a light ground;

the two lateral portions of the sky present the contrary appearance,

namely, four light points on a dark ground. The space not occupied by

the corner points appears in the first case as a white cross, in the

other as a black cross, expressions hereafter employed in describing

the phenomena. Before sun-rise or after sun-set, in a very subdued

light, the white cross appears on the side of the sun also.[3]

"We thus conclude that the direct reflection of the sun produces a

light figure, which we call a white cross; the oblique reflection gives

a dark figure, which we call a black cross. If we make the experiment

all round the sky, we shall find that a fluctuation takes place in the

intermediate regions."

We pass over a variety of observations on the modes of exhibiting this

phenomenon, the natural transparent substances which exhibit it best,

and the detail of the colours seen within[4] them, and proceed to an

instance where the author was enabled to distinguish the "direct" from

the "oblique" reflection by means of the entoptic apparatus, in a

painter's study.

40.

"An excellent artist, unfortunately too soon taken from us, Ferdinand

Jagemann, who, with other qualifications, had a fine eye for light and

shade, colour and keeping, had built himself a painting-room for large

as well as small works. The single high window was to the north, facing

the most open sky, and it was thought that all necessary requisites had

been sufficiently attended to.

"But after our friend had worked for some time, it appeared to him,

in painting portraits, that the faces he copied were not equally well

lighted at all hours of the day, and yet his sitters always occupied

the same place, and the serenity of the atmosphere was unaltered.

"The variations of the favourable and unfavourable light had their

periods during the day. Early in the morning the light appeared most

unpleasantly grey and unsatisfactory; it became better, till at last,

about an hour before noon, the objects had acquired a totally different

appearance. Everything presented itself to the eye of the artist in its

greatest perfection, as he would most wish to transfer it to canvas.

In the afternoon this beautiful appearance vanished--the light became

worse, even in the brightest day, without any change having taken place

in the atmosphere.

"As soon as I heard of this circumstance, I at once connected it in

my own mind with the phenomena which I had been so long observing,

and hastened to prove, by a physical experiment, what a clear-sighted

artist had discovered entirely of himself, to his own surprise and

astonishment.

"I had the second[5] entoptic apparatus brought to the spot, and the

effect on this was what might be conjectured from the above statement.

At mid-day, when the artist saw his model best lighted, the north,

direct reflection gave the white cross; in the morning and evening, on

the other hand, when the unfavourable oblique light was so unpleasant

to him, the cube showed the black cross; in the intermediate hours the

state of transition was apparent."

The author proceeds to recall to his memory instances where works of

art had struck him by the beauty of their appearance owing to the light

coming from the quarter opposite the sun, in "direct reflection," and

adds, "Since these decided effects are thus traceable to their cause,

the friends of art, in looking at and exhibiting pictures, may enhance

the enjoyment to themselves and others by attending to a fortunate

reflection."

[1] The numbers, as usual, indicate the corresponding paragraphs in the

original.

[2] In the historical part, Goethe has to speak of so many followers of

Newton who begin their statements with "Si per foramen exiguum," that

the term is a sort of by-word with him.

[3] At mid-day on the 24th of June the author observed the white cross

reflected from every part of the horizon. At a certain distance from

the sun, corresponding, he supposes, with the extent of halos, the

black cross appeared.

[4] Whence the term _entoptic_.

[5] Before described: the author describes several others more or less

complicated, and suggests a portable one. "Such plates, which need

only be an inch and a quarter square, placed on each other to form a

cube, might be set in a brass case, open above and below. At one end of

this case a black mirror with a hinge, acting like a cover, might be

fastened. We recommend this simple apparatus, with which the principal

and original experiment may be readily made. With this we could, in the

longest days, better define the circle round the sun where the black

cross appears," &c.

NOTE T.--Par. 496.

"Since Goethe wrote, all the earths have been decomposed, and have

been shown to be metallic bases united with oxygen; but this does not

invalidate his statement."--S. F.

NOTE U.--Par. 502.

The cold nature of black and its affinity to blue are assumed by the

author throughout; if the quality is opaque, and consequently greyish,

such an affinity is obvious, but in many fine pictures, intense black

seems to be considered as the last effect of heat, and in accompanying

crimson and orange may be said rather to present a difference of

degree than a difference of kind. In looking at the great picture

of the globe, we find this last result produced in climates where

the sun has greatest power, as we find it the immediate effect of

fire. The light parts of black animals are often of a mellow colour;

the spots and stripes on skins and shells are generally surrounded

by a warm hue, and are brown before they are absolutely black. In

combustion, the blackness which announces the complete ignition, is

preceded always by the same mellow, orange colour. The representation

of this process was probably intended by the Greeks in the black and

subdued orange of their vases: indeed, the very colours may have been

first produced in the kiln. But without supposing that they were

retained merely from this accident, the fact that the combination

itself is extremely harmonious, would be sufficient to account for

its adoption. Many of the remarks of Aristotle[1] and Theophrastus[2]

on the production of black, are derived from the observation of the

action of fire, and on one occasion, the former distinctly alludes to

the terracotta kiln. That the above opinion as to the nature of black

was prevalent in the sixteenth century, may be inferred from Lomazzo,

who observes,--"Quanto all' origine e generazione de' colori, la

frigidità è la madre della bianchezza: il calore è padre del nero."[3]

The positive coldness of black may be said to begin when it approaches

grey. When Leonardo da Vinci says that black is most beautiful in

shade, he probably means to define its most intense and transparent

state, when it is furthest removed from grey.

[1] "De Coloribus."

[2] "De Igne."

[3] "Trattato," &c. p. 191, the rest of the passage, it must be

admitted, abounds with absurdities.

NOTE V.--Par. 555.

The nature of vehicles or liquid mediums to combine with the substance

of colours, has been frequently discussed by modern writers on art,

and may perhaps be said to have received as much attention as it

deserves. Reynolds smiles at the notion of our not having materials

equal to those of former times, and indeed, although the methods of

individuals will always differ, there seems no reason to suppose that

any great technical secret has been lost. In these inquiries, however,

which relate merely to the mechanical causes of bright and durable

colouring, the skill of the painter in the adequate employment of the

higher resources of his art is, as if by common consent, left out of

the account, and without departing from this mode of considering the

question, we would merely repeat a conviction before expressed, viz.

that the preservation of internal brightness, a quality compatible with

various methods, has had more to do with the splendour and durability

of finely coloured pictures than any vehicle. The observations that

follow are therefore merely intended to show how far the older

written authorities on this subject agree with the results of modern

investigation, without at all assuming that the old methods, if known,

need be implicitly followed.

On a careful examination of the earlier pictures, it is said that

a resinous substance appears to have been mingled with the colours

together with the oil; that the fracture of the indurated pigment is

shining, and that the surface resists the ordinary solvents.[1] This

admixture of resinous solutions or varnishes with the solid is not

alluded to, as far as we have seen, by any of the writers on Italian

practice, but as the method corresponds with that now prevalent in

England, the above hypothesis is not likely to be objected to for the

present.

Various local circumstances and relations might seem to warrant the

supposition that the Venetian painters used resinous substances. An

important branch of commerce between the mountains of Friuli and Venice

still consists in the turpentine or fir-resin.[2] Similar substances

produced from various trees, and known under the common name of

balsams,[3] were imported from the East through Venice, for general

use, before the American balsams[4] in some degree superseded them;

and a Venetian painter, Marco Boschini, in his description of the

Archipelago, does not omit to speak of the abundance of mastic produced

in the island of Scio.[5]

The testimonies, direct or indirect, against the employment of any

such substances by the Venetian painters, in the solid part of their

work, seem, notwithstanding, very conclusive; we begin with the writer

just named. In his principal composition, a poem[6] describing the

practice and the productions of the Venetian painters, Boschini speaks

of certain colours which they shunned, and adds:--"In like manner

(they avoided) shining liquids and varnishes, which I should rather

call lackers;[7] for the surface of flesh, if natural and unadorned,

assuredly does not shine, nature speaks as to this plainly." After

alluding to the possible alteration of this natural appearance by

means of cosmetics, he continues: "Foreign artists set such great

store by these varnishes, that a shining surface seems to them the

only desirable quality in art. What trash it is they prize! fir-resin,

mastic, and sandarach, and larch-resin (not to say treacle), stuff fit

to polish boots.[8] If those great painters of ours had to represent

armour, a gold vase, a mirror, or anything of the kind, they made it

shine with (simple) colours."[9]

This writer so frequently alludes to the Flemish painters, of whose

great reputation he sometimes seems jealous, that the above strong

expression of opinion may have been pointed at them. On the other hand

it is to be observed that the term _forestieri_, strangers, does not

necessarily mean transalpine foreigners, but includes those Italians

who were not of the Venetian state.[10] The directions given by

Raphael Borghini,[11] and after him by Armenini,[12] respecting the use

and preparation of varnishes made from the very materials in question,

may thus have been comprehended in the censure, especially as some of

these recipes were copied and republished in Venice by Bisagno,[13] in

1642--that is, only six years before Boschini's poem appeared.

Ridolfi's Lives of the Venetian Painters[14] (1648) may be mentioned

with the two last. His only observation respecting the vehicle is, that

Giovanni Bellini, after introducing himself by an artifice into the

painting-room of Antonello da Messina, saw that painter dip his brush

from time to time in linseed oil. This story, related about two hundred

years after the supposed event, is certainly not to be adduced as very

striking evidence in any way.[15]

Among the next writers, in order of time prior to Bisagno, may be

mentioned Canepario[16] (1619). His work, "De Atramentis" contains

a variety of recipes for different purposes: one chapter, _De

atramentis diversicoloribus_, has a more direct reference to painting.

His observations under this head are by no means confined to the

preparation of transparent colours, but he says little on the subject

of varnishes. After describing a mode of preserving white of egg,

he says, "Others are accustomed to mix colours in liquid varnish and

linseed, or nut-oil; for a liquid and oily varnish binds the (different

layers of) colours better together, and thus forms a very fit glazing

material."[17] On the subject of oils he observes, that linseed oil was

in great request among painters; who, however, were of opinion that

nut-oil-excelled it "in giving brilliancy to pictures, in preserving

them better, and in rendering the colours more vivid."[18]

Lomazzo (a Milanese) says nothing on the subject of vehicles in his

principal work, but in his "Idea del Tempio della Pittura,"[19] he

speaks of grinding the colours "in nut-oil, and spike-oil, and other

things," the "and" here evidently means _or_, and by "other things" we

are perhaps to understand other oils, poppy oil, drying oils, &c.

The directions of Raphael Borghini and Vasari[20] cannot certainly be

considered conclusive as to the practice of the Venetians, but they are

very clear on the subject of varnish. These writers may be considered

the earliest Italian authorities who have entered much into practical

methods. In the few observations on the subject of vehicles in Leonardo

da Vinci's treatise, "there is nothing," as M. Merimée observes, "to

show that he was in the habit of mixing varnish with his colours."

Cennini says but little on the subject of oil-painting; Leon Battista

Alberti is theoretical rather than practical, and the published

extracts of Lorenzo Ghiberti's MS. chiefly relate to sculpture.

Borghini and Vasari agree in recommending nut-oil in preference to

linseed-oil; both recommend adding varnish to the colours in painting

on walls in oil, "because the work does not then require to be

varnished afterwards," but in the ordinary modes of painting on panel

or cloth, the varnish is omitted. Borghini expressly says, that oil

alone (senza più) is to be employed; he also recommends a very sparing

use of it.

The treatise of Armenini (1587) was published at Ravenna, and he

himself was of Faenza, so that his authority, again, cannot be

considered decisive as to the Venetian practice. After all, he

recommends the addition of "common varnish" only for the ground or

preparation, as a consolidating medium, for the glazing colours,

and for those dark pigments which are slow in drying. Many of his

directions are copied from the writers last named; the recipes for

varnishes, in particular, are to be found in Borghini. Christoforo

Sorte[21] (1580) briefly alludes to the subject in question. After

speaking of the methods of distemper, he observes that the same colours

may be used in oil, except that instead of mixing them with size, they

are mixed on the palette with nut-oil, or (if slow in drying) with

boiled linseed-oil: he does not mention varnish. The Italian writers

next in order are earlier than Vasari, and may therefore be considered

original, but they are all very concise.

The treatise of Michael Angelo Biondo[22] (1549), remarkable for

its historical mistakes, is not without interest in other respects.

The list of colours he gives is, in all probability, a catalogue of

those in general use in Venice at the period he wrote. With regard

to the vehicle, he merely mentions oil and size as the mediums for

the two distinct methods of oil-painting and distemper, and does not

speak of varnish. The passages in the Dialogue of Doni[23] (1549),

which relate to the subject in question, are to the same effect. "In

colouring in oil," he observes, "the most brilliant colours (that we

see in pictures) are prepared by merely mixing them with the end of a

knife on the palette." Speaking of the perishable nature of works in

oil-painting as compared with sculpture, he says, that the plaster of

Paris (gesso) and mastic, with other ingredients of which the ground

is prepared, are liable to decay, &c.; and elsewhere, in comparing

painting in general with mosaic, that in the former the colours "must

of necessity be mixed with various things, such as oils, gums, white

or yolk of egg, and juice of figs, all which tend to impair the beauty

of the tints." This catalogue of vehicles is derived from all kinds of

painting to enforce the argument, and is by no means to be understood

as belonging to one and the same method.

An interesting little work,[24] still in the form of a dialogue (Fabio

and Lauro), appeared a year earlier; the author, Paolo Pino, was a

Venetian painter. In speaking of the practical methods Fabio observes,

as usual, that oil-painting is of all modes of imitation the most

perfect, but his reasons for this opinion seem to have a reference

to the Venetian practice of going over the work repeatedly. Lauro

asks whether it is not possible to paint in oil on the dry wall, as

Sebastian del Piombo did. Fabio answers, "the work cannot last, for the

solidity of the plaster is impenetrable, and the colours, whether in

oil or distemper, cannot pass the surface." This might seem to warrant

the inference that absorbent grounds were prepared for oil-painting,

but there are proofs enough that resins as well as oil were used with

the _gesso_ to make the preparation compact. See Doni, Armenini, &c.

This writer, again, does not speak of varnish. These appear to be the

chief Venetian and Italian authorities[25] of the sixteenth and part of

the following century; and although Boschini wrote latest, he appears

to have had his information from good sources, and more than once

distinctly quotes Palma Giovane.

In all these instances it will be seen that there is no allusion to the

immixture of varnishes with the solid colours, except in painting on

walls in oil, and that the processes of distemper and oil are always

considered as separate arts.[26] On the other hand, the prohibition

of Boschini cannot be understood to be universal, for it is quite

certain that the Venetians varnished their pictures when done.[27]

After Titian had finished his whole-length portrait of Pope Paul III.

it was placed in the sun to be varnished.[28] Again, in the archives of

the church of S. Niccolo at Treviso a sum is noted (Sept. 21, 1521 ),

"per far la vernise da invernisar la Pala dell' altar grando," and the

same day a second entry appears of a payment to a painter, "per esser

venuto a dar la vernise alla Pala," &c.[29] It is to be observed that

in both these cases the pictures were varnished as soon as done;[30]

the varnish employed was perhaps the thin compound of naphtha (oglio di

sasso) and melted turpentine (oglio d'abezzo), described by Borghini,

and after him by Armenini: the last-named writer remarks that he had

seen this varnish used by the best painters in Lombardy, and had heard

that it was preferred by Correggio. The consequence of this immediate

varnishing may have been that the warm resinous liquid, whatever it

was, became united with the colours, and thus at a future time the

pigment may have acquired a consistency capable of resisting the

ordinary solvents. Not only was the surface of the picture required to

be warm, but the varnish was applied soon after it was taken from the

fire.[31]

Many of the treatises above quoted contain directions for making the

colours dry:[32] some of these recipes, and many in addition, are to be

found in Palomino, who, however defective as an historian,[33] has left

very copious practical details, evidently of ancient date. His drying

recipes are numerous, and although sugar of lead does not appear,

cardenillo (verdigris), which is perhaps as objectionable, is admitted

to be the best of all dryers. It may excite some surprise that the

Spanish painters should have bestowed so much attention on this subject

in a climate like theirs, but the rapidity of their execution must have

often required such an assistance.[34]

One circumstance alluded to by Palomino, in his very minute practical

directions, deserves to be mentioned. After saying what colours should

be preserved in their saucers under water, and what colours should be

merely covered with oiled paper because the water injures them, he

proceeds to communicate "a curious mode of preserving oil-colours," and

of transporting them from place to place. The important secret is to

tie them in bladders, the mode of doing which he enters into with great

minuteness, as if the invention was recent. It is true, Christoforo

Sorte, in describing his practice in water-colour drawing, says he was

in the habit of preserving a certain vegetable green with gum-water in

a bladder; but as the method was obviously new to Palomino, there seems

sufficient reason to believe that oil-colours, when once ground, had,

up to his time, been kept in saucers and preserved under water.[35]

Among the items of expense in the Treviso document before alluded to,

we find "a pan and saucers for the painters."[36] This is in accordance

with Cennini's directions, and the same system appears to have been

followed till after 1700.[37]

The Flemish accounts of the early practice of oil-painting are all

later than Vasari. Van Mander, in correcting the Italian historian in

his dates, still follows his narrative in other respects verbatim. If

Vasari's story is to be accepted as true, it might be inferred that

the Flemish secret consisted in an oil varnish like copal.[38] Vasari

says, that Van Eyck boiled the oils with other ingredients; that the

colours, when mixed with this kind of oil, had a very firm consistence;

that the surface of the pictures so executed had a lustre, so that they

needed no varnish when done; and that the colours were in no danger

from water.[39]

Certain colours, as is well known, if mixed with oil alone, may be

washed off after a considerable time. Leonardo da Vinci remarks, that

verdigris may be thus removed. Carmine, Palomino observes, may be

washed off after six years. It is on this account the Italian writers

recommend the use of varnish with certain colours, and it appears the

Venetians, and perhaps the Italians generally, employed it solely in

such cases. But it is somewhat extraordinary that Vasari should teach

a mode of painting in oil so different in its results (inasmuch as the

work thus required varnish at last) from the Flemish method which he so

much extols--a method which he says the Italians long endeavoured to

find out in vain. If they knew it, it is evident, assuming his account

to be correct, that they did not practice it.

[1] See "Marcucci Saggio Analitico-chimico sopra i colori," &c. Rome,

1816, and "Taylor's Translation of Merimée on Oil-painting," London,

1839. The last-named work contains much useful information.

[2] Italian writers of the 16th century speak of three kinds. Cardanus

says, that of the _abies_ was esteemed most, that of the _larix_ next,

and that of the _picea_ least. The resin extracted by incision from

the last (the pinus abies Linnæi) is known by the name of Burgundy

pitch; when extracted by fire it is black. The three varieties occur

in Italian treatises on art, under the names of _oglio di abezzo_,

_trementina_ and _pece Greca_.

[3] The concrete balsam _benzoe_, called by the Italians _beluzino_,

and _belzoino_, is sometimes spoken of as a varnish.

[4] Marcucci supposes that balsam of copaiba was mixed with the

pigments by the (later) Venetians.

[5] "L'Archipelago con tutte le Isole," Ven. 1658. The incidental

notices of the remains of antiquity in this work would be curious and

important if they could be relied on. In describing the island of

Samos, for instance, the author asserts that the temple of Juno was in

tolerable preservation, and that the statue was still there.

[6] "La Carta del Navegar Pitoresco," Ven. 1660. It is in the Venetian

dialect.

[7] Inveriadure (invetriature), literally the glazing applied to

earthenware.

[8]

"O de che strazze se fan cavedal!

D'ogio d'avezzo, mastici e sandraca;

E trementina (per no'dir triaca)

Robe, che ilustrerave ogni stival."--p. 338.

The alliteration of the words _trementina_ and _triaca_ is of course

lost in a translation.

[9] "I li ha fati straluser co' i colori." Boschini was at least

constant in his opinion. In the second edition of his "Ricche Minere

della Pittura Veneziana," which appeared fourteen years after the

publication of his poem, he repeats that the Venetian painters avoided

some colours in flesh "e similmente i lustri e le vernici."

[10] Thus, in the introduction to the "Ricche Minere," Boschini calls

the Milanese, Florentine, Lombard, and Bolognese painters, _forestieri_.

[11] "Il Riposo," Firenze, 1584.

[12] "De' Veri Precetti della Pittura," Ravenna, 1587.

[13] "Trattato della Pittura fondato nell' autorità di molti eccellenti

in questa professione." Venezia, 1642. Bisagno remarks in his preface,

that the books on art were few, and that painters were in the habit of

keeping them secret. He acknowledges that he has availed himself of the

labours of others, but without mentioning his sources: some passages

are copied from Lomazzo. He, however, lays claim to some original

observations, and says he had seen much and discoursed with many

excellent painters.

[14] "Le Meraviglie dell' Arte," Venezia, 1648.

[15] It has been conjectured by some that this story proved the

immixture of varnishes with the colours, and that the oil was only used

to dilute them. The epitaph on Antonello da Messina which existed in

Vasari's time, alludes to his having mixed the colours with oil.

[16] "Petri Mariæ Caneparii De Atramentis cujuscumque generis," Venet.

1619. It was republished at Rotterdam in 1718.

[17] "Ita quod magis ex hiis evadit atramentum picturæ summopere

idoneum." Thus, if _atramentum_ is to be understood, as usual, to

mean a glazing colour, the passage can only refer to the immixture of

varnish with the transparent colours applied last in order.

[18] In a passage that follows respecting the mode of extracting

nut-oil, Caneparius appears to mistranslate Galen, c. 7--"De Simplicium

Medicamentorum facultatibus." The observations of Galen on this

subject, and on the drying property of linseed, may have given the

first hint to the inventors of oil-painting. The custom of dating

the origin of this art from Van Eyck is like that of dating the

commencement of modern painting from Cimabue. The improver is often

assumed to be the inventor.

[19] Milan, 1590.

[20] The particulars here alluded to are to be found in the first

edition of Vasari (1550) as well as the second.--v. i. c. 21, &c.

[21] "Osservasioni nella Pittura." In Venezia, 1580. Sorte, who, it

appears, was a native of Verona, had worked in his youth with Giulio

Romano, at Mantua, and communicates the methods taught him by that

painter, for giving the true effects of perspective in compositions

of figures. He is, perhaps, the earliest who describes the process of

water-colour painting as distinguished from distemper and as adapted to

landscape, if the art he describes deserves the name.

[22] "Della nobilissima Pittura e sua Arte," Venezia, 1549. Biondo is

so ignorant as to attribute the Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, to

Mantegna.

[23] "Disegno del Doni," in Venezia, 1549.

[24] "Dialogo di Pittura," Venezia, 1548. Pino, in enumerating the

celebrated contemporary artists, does not include Paul Veronese, for a

very obvious reason, that painter being at the time only about 17 years

of age. Sorte, who wrote thirty years later, mentions "l'eccellente

Messer Paulino nostro," alone.

[25] The Dialogues of Lodovico Dolce, and various other works, are not

referred to here, as they contain nothing on the subject in question.

The latest authority at all connected with the traditions of Venetian

practice, is a certain Giambatista Volpato, of Bassano: he died in

1706, and had been intimate with Ridolfi. The only circumstance he

has transmitted relating to practical details is that Giacomo Bassan,

in retouching on a dry surface, sometimes adopted a method commonly

practised, he says, by Paul Veronese (and commonly practised still),

namely, that of dipping his brush in spirits of turpentine; at other

times he oiled out the surface in the usual manner. Volpato left a MS.

which was announced for publication in Vicenza in 1685, but it never

appeared; it, however, afterwards formed the ground-work of Verci's

"Notizie intorno alla Vita e alle Opere de' Pittori di Bassano."

Venezia, 1775. See also "Lettera di Giambatista Roberti sopra Giacomo

da Ponte," Lugano, 1777. Another MS. by Natale Melchiori, of about the

same date, is preserved at Treviso and Castel Franco: it abounds with

historical mistakes; the author says, for instance, that the Pietro

Martyre was begun by Giorgione and finished by Titian. The recipes for

varnishes and colours are very numerous, but they are mostly copied

from earlier works.

[26] That distemper was not very highly esteemed by the Venetians

may be inferred from the following observation of Pino:--"Il modo di

colorir à guazzo è imperfetto et più fragile et à me non diletta onde

lasciamolo all' oltremontani i quali sono privi della vera via." It is,

however, certain that the Venetians sometimes painted in this style,

and Volpato mentions several works of the kind by Bassan, but he never

hints that he began his oil pictures in distemper.

[27] Boschini says, that the Venetians (he especially means Titian)

rendered their pictures sparkling by finally touching on a dry

surface (_à secco_). The absence of varnish in the solid colours, the

retouching with spirit of turpentine, and even _à secco_, all suppose a

dull surface, which would require varnish. The latter method, alluded

to by Boschini, was an exception to the general practice, and not

likely to be followed on account of its difficulty. Carlo Maratti, on

the authority of Palomino, used to say, "He must be a skilful painter

who can retouch without oiling out."

[28] See a letter by Francesco Bocchi, and another by Vasari, in

the "Lettere Pittoriche" of Bottari. The circumstance is mentioned

incidentally; the point chiefly dwelt on is, that some persons who

passed were deceived, and bowed to the picture, supposing it to be the

pope.

[29] Federici, "Memorie Trevigiane," Venezia, 1803. The altar-piece of

S. Niccolo at Treviso is attributed, in the document alluded to, to

Fra Marco Pensabene, a name unknown; the painting is so excellent as

to have been thought worthy of Sebastian del Piombo: for this opinion,

however, there are no historical grounds. It was begun in 1520, but

before it was quite finished the painter, whoever he was, absconded: it

was therefore completed by another.

[30] Titian's stay in Rome was short, and with respect to the Treviso

altar-piece, a week or two only, at most, can have elapsed between the

completion and the varnishing. Cennini, who recommends delaying a year

at least before varnishing, speaks of pictures in distemper.

[31] See Borghini, Armenini, their Venetian copyist Bisagno, and

Palomino. The last-named writer, though of another school and much

more modern, was evidently well acquainted with the ancient methods:

he says, "Se advierte que siempre que se huviere de barnizar alguna

cosa conviene que la pintura y el barniz estèn calientes."--_El Museo

Pictorico_, v. ii.

[32] Burnt alum, one of the ingredients recommended, might perhaps

account for a shining fracture in the indurated pigment in some old

pictures.

[33] Of the earlier Spanish writers Pacheco may be mentioned next to

Palomino as containing most practical information. Carducho, De Butron,

and others, seldom descend to such details. Palomino contains all the

directions of Pacheco, and many in addition.

[34] See Cean Bermudez, "Sobre la Escuela Sevillana," Cadiz, 1806. The

same reasons induced the later Venetian machinists to paint on dark

grounds, and to make use of (drying) oil in excess. See Zanetti, _Della

Pittura Veneziana_, 1. iv.

[35] Borghini, in describing the method of making a gold-size (the

same as Cennini's), speaks of boiling the "buccie de' colori" in oil;

this only means the skin or pellicle of the colour itself--in fact, he

proceeds to say that they dissolve in boiling. Vasari, in describing

the same process, uses the expression "colori seccaticci."

[36] "Maggio 4 (1520) Per un cadin (catino) per depentori. Per

scudellini per li depentori."--_Mem. Trev._, vol. i. p. 131. Pungileoni

("Memorie Istoriche di Antonio Allegri") quotes a note of expenses

relating to two oil-pictures by Paolo Gianotti; among the items we find

"colori, telari, et brocchette."--vol. ii. p. 75.

[37] Salmon, in his "Polygraphice" (1701), gives the following

direction:--"Oyl colors, if not presently used, will have a skin grow

over them, to prevent which put them into a glass, and put the glass

three or four inches under water," &c.

[38] This varnish appears to have been known some centuries before Van

Eyck's time, but he may have been the first to mix it with the colours.

[39] See Vasari, Life of Antonello da Messina.

NOTE W.--Par. 608.

In the second volume Goethe gives the nomenclature of the Greeks and

Romans at some length. The general notions of the ancients with regard

to colours are thus described:--"The ancients derive all colours from

white and black, from light and darkness. They say, all colours are

between white and black, and are mixed out of these. We must not,

however, suppose that they understand by this a mere atomic mixture,

although they occasionally use the word μίξις;[1] for in the remarkable

passages, where they wish to express a kind of reciprocal (dynamic)

action of the two contrasting principles, they employ the words κρᾶσις,

union, σύγκρισις, combination; thus, again, the mutual influence of

light and darkness, and of colours among each other, is described by

the word κεράννυστας, an expression of similar import.

"The varieties of colours are differently enumerated; some mention

seven, others twelve, but without giving the complete list. From a

consideration of the terminology both of the Greeks and Romans, it

appears that they sometimes employed general for specific terms, and

_vice versâ_.

"Their denominations of colours are not permanently and precisely

defined, but mutable and fluctuating, for they are employed even with

regard to similar colours both on the _plus_ and _minus_ side. Their

yellow, on the one hand, inclines to red, on the other to blue; the

blue is sometimes green, sometimes red; the red is at one time yellow,

at another blue. Pure red (purpur) fluctuates between warm red and

blue, sometimes inclining to scarlet, sometimes to violet.

"Thus the ancients not only seem to have looked upon colour as a

mutable and fleeting quality, but appear to have had a presentiment of

the (physical and chemical) effects of augmentation and re-action. In

speaking of colours they make use of expressions which indicate this

knowledge; they make yellow redden, because its augmentation tends to

red; they make red become yellow, for it often returns thus to its

origin.

"The hues thus specified undergo new modifications. The colours

arrested at a given point are attenuated by a stronger light darkened

by a shadow, nay, deepened and condensed in themselves. For the

gradations which thus arise the name of the species only is often

given, but the more generic terms are also employed. Every colour, of

whatever kind, can, according to the same view, be multiplied into

itself, condensed, enriched, and will in consequence appear more or

less dark. The ancients called colour in this state," &c. Then follow

the designations of general states of colour and those of specific hues.

Another essay on the notions of the ancients respecting the origin

and nature of colour generally, shows how nearly Goethe himself has

followed in the same track. The dilating effect of light objects,

the action and reaction of the retina, the coloured after-image, the

general law of contrast, the effect of semi-transparent mediums in

producing warm or cold colours as they are interposed before a dark or

light background--all this is either distinctly expressed or hinted

at; "but," continues Goethe, "how a single element divides itself into

two, remained a secret for them. They knew the nature of the magnet,

in amber, only as attraction; polarity was not yet distinctly evident

to them. And in very modern times have we not found that scientific

men have still given their almost exclusive attention to attraction,

and considered the immediately excited repulsion only as a mere

after-action?"

An essay on the Painting of the Ancients[2] was contributed by Heinrich

Meyer.

[1] See Note on Par. 177.

[2] Vol. ii. p. 69, first edition.

NOTE X.--Par. 670.

This agrees with the general recommendation so often given by high

authorities in art, to avoid a tinted look in the colour of flesh. The

great example of Rubens, whose practice was sometimes an exception

to this, may however show that no rule of art is to be blindly or

exclusively adhered to. Reynolds, nevertheless, in the midst of his

admiration for this great painter, considered the example dangerous,

and more than once expresses himself to this effect, observing on one

occasion that Rubens, like Baroccio, is sometimes open to the criticism

made on an ancient painter, namely, that his figures looked as if they

fed on roses.

Lodovico Dolce, who is supposed to have given the _vivâ voce_ precepts

of Titian in his Dialogue,[1] makes Aretino say: "I would generally

banish from my pictures those vermilion cheeks with coral lips; for

faces thus treated look like masks. Propertius, reproving his Cynthia

for using cosmetics, desires that her complexion might exhibit the

simplicity and purity of colour which is seen in the works of Apelles."

Those who have written on the practice of painting have always

recommended the use of few colours for flesh. Reynolds and others quote

even ancient authorities as recorded by Pliny, and Boschini gives

several descriptions of the method of the Venetians, and particularly

of Titian, to the same effect. "They used," he says, "earths more than

any other colour, and at the utmost only added a little vermilion,

minium, and lake, abhorring as a pestilence _biadetti, gialli santi,

smaltini, verdi-azzurri, giallolini_."[2] Elsewhere he says,[3] "Earths

should be used rather than other colours:" after repeating the above

prohibited list he adds, "I speak of the imitation of flesh, for in

other things every colour is good;" again, "Our great Titian used to

say that he who wishes to be a painter should be acquainted with three

colours, white, black, and red."[4] Assuming this account to be a

little exaggerated, it is still to be observed that the monotony to

which the use of few colours would seem to tend, is prevented by the

nature of the Venetian process, which was sufficiently conformable to

Goethe's doctrine; the gradations being multiplied, and the effect

of the colours heightened by using them as semi-opaque mediums.

Immediately after the passage last quoted we read, "He also gave this

true precept, that to produce a lively colouring in flesh it is not

possible to finish at once."[5] As these particulars may not be known

to all, we add some further abridged extracts explaining the order and

methods of these different operations.

"The Venetian painters," says this writer,[6] "after having drawn in

their subject, got in the masses with very solid colour, without making

use of nature or statues. Their great object in this stage of their

work was to distinguish the advancing and retiring portions, that the

figures might be relieved by means of chiaro-scuro--one of the most

important departments of colour and form, and indeed of invention.

Having decided on their scheme of effect, when this preparation was

dry, they consulted nature and the antique; not servilely, but with the

aid of a few lines on paper (_quattro segni in carta_) they corrected

their figures without any other model. Then returning to their brushes,

they began to paint smartly on this preparation, producing the colour

of flesh." The passage before quoted follows, stating that they used

earths chiefly, that they carefully avoided certain colours, "and

likewise varnishes and whatever produces a shining surface.[7] When

this second painting was dry, they proceeded to scumble over this or

that figure with a low tint to make the one next it come forward,

giving another, at the same time, an additional light--for example, on

a head, a hand, or a foot, thus detaching them, so to speak, from the

canvas." (Tintoret's _Prigionia di S. Rocco_ is here quoted.) "By thus

still multiplying these well-understood retouchings where required, on

the dry surface, _(à secco)_ they reduced the whole to harmony. In this

operation they took care not to cover entire figures, but rather went

on gemming them _(gioielandole)_ with vigorous touches. In the shadows,

too, they infused vigour frequently by glazing with asphaltum, always

leaving great masses in middle-tint, with many darks, in addition to

the partial glazings, and few lights."

The introduction to the subject of Venetian colouring, in the poem by

the same author, is also worth transcribing, but as the style is quaint

and very concise, a translation is necessarily a paraphrase.[8]

"The art of colouring has the imitation of qualities for its object;

not all qualities, but those secondary ones which are appreciable by

the sense of sight. The eye especially sees colours, the imitation

of nature in painting is therefore justly called colouring; but the

painter arrives at his end by indirect means. He gives the varieties

of tone in masses;[9] he smartly impinges lights, he clothes his

preparation with more delicate local hues, he unites, he glazes: thus

everything depends on the method, on the process. For if we look

at colour abstractedly, the most positive may be called the most

beautiful, but if we keep the end of imitation in view, this shallow

conclusion falls to the ground. The refined Venetian manner is very

different from mere direct, sedulous imitation. Every one who has

a good eye may arrive at such results, but to attain the manner of

Paolo, of Bassan, of Palma, Tintoret, or Titian, is a very different

undertaking."[10]

The effects of semi-transparent mediums in some natural productions

seem alluded to in the following passage--"Nature sometimes

accidentally imitates figures in stones and other substances, and

although they are necessarily incomplete in form, yet the principle

of effect (depth) resembles the Venetian practice." In a passage that

follows there appears to be an allusion to the production of the

atmospheric colours by semi-transparent mediums.[11]

[1] "Dialogo della Pittura, intitolato l'Aretino." It was first

published at Venice in 1557; about twenty years before Titian's death.

In the dedication to the senator Loredano, Lodovico Dolce eulogises

the work, which he would hardly have done if it had been entirely his

own: again, the supposition that it may have been suggested by Aretino,

would be equally conclusive, coupled with internal evidence, as to the

original source.

[2] Introduction to the "Ricche Minere della Pittura Veneziana,"

Venezia, 1674. The Italian annotators on older works on painting are

sometimes at a loss to find modern terms equivalent to the obsolete

names of pigments. (See "Antologia dell 'Arte Pittorica.") The colours

now in use corresponding with Boschini's list, are probably yellow

lakes, smalt, verditer, and Naples yellow. Boschini often censures the

practice of other schools, and in this emphatic condemnation he seems

to have had an eye to certain precepts in Lomazzo, and perhaps, even

in Leonardo da Vinci, who, on one occasion, recommends Naples yellow,

lake, and white for flesh. The Venetian writer often speaks, too, in

no measured terms of certain Flemish pictures, probably because they

appeared to him too tinted.

[3] "La Carta del Navegar Pitoresco," p. 338.

[4] Ib. p. 341. In describing Titian's actual practice ("Ricche

Minere"), he, however, adds yellow (ochre). The red is also

particularised, viz., the common terra rossa.

[5] High examples here again prove that the opposite system may attain

results quite as successful.

[6] Introduction to the "Ricche Minere."

[7] See Note to Par. 555. Here again, assuming the description to be

correct, high authorities might be opposed to the Venetians.

[8] The following quatrain may serve as a specimen; the author is

speaking of the importance of the colour of flesh as conducive to

picturesque effect:--

"Importa el nudo; e come ben l'importa!

Un quadro senta nudo è come aponto

Un disnar senza pan, se ben ghe zonto,

Per più delicia, confetura e torta."--p. 346.

In his preface he anticipates, and thus answers the objections to his

Venetian dialect--"Mi, che son Venetian in Venetia e che parlo de'

Pitori Venetiani hò da andarme a stravestir? Guarda el Cielo."

[9] The word _Macchia_, literally a blot, is generally used by Italian

writers, by Vasari for instance, for the local colour. Boschini

understands by it the relative depth of tones rather than the mere

difference of hue. "By macchia," he says, "I understand that treatment

by which the figures are distinguished from each other by different

tones lighter or darker."--_La Carta del Navegar_, p. 328. Elsewhere,

"Colouring (as practised by the Venetians) comprehends both the macchia

and drawing;" (p. 300) that is, comprehends the gradations of light

and dark in objects, and the parts of objects, and consequently, their

essential form. "The macchia," he adds, "is the effect of practice, and

is dictated by the knowledge of what is requisite for effect."

[10]

"Ma l'arivar a la maniera, al trato

(Verbi gratia) de Paulo, del Bassan,

Del Vechio, Tentoreto, e di Tician,

Per Dio, l'è cosa da deventar mato."--p. 294, 297.

[11] The traces of the Aristotelian theory are quite as apparent in

Boschini as in the other Italian writers on art; but as he wrote in the

seventeenth century, his authority in this respect is only important as

an indication of the earlier prevalence of the doctrine.

NOTE Y.--Par. 672.

The author's conclusion here is unsatisfactory, for the colour of

the black races may be considered at least quite as negative as that

of Europeans. It would be safer to say that the white skin is more

beautiful than the black, because it is more capable of indications

of life, and indications of emotion. A degree of light which would

fail to exhibit the finer varieties of form on a dark surface, would

be sufficient to display them on a light one; and the delicate

mantlings of colour, whether the result of action or emotion, are more

perceptible for the same reason.

NOTE Z.--Par. 690.

The author appears to mean that a degree of brightness which the organ

can bear at all, must of necessity be removed from dazzling, white

light. The slightest tinge of colour to this brightness, implies that

it is seen through a medium, and thus, in painting, the lightest,

whitest surface should partake of the quality of depth. Goethe's view

here again accords, it must be admitted, with the practice of the best

colourists, and with the precepts of the highest authorities.--See Note

C.

NOTE A A.--Par. 732.

Ample details respecting the opinions of Louis Bertrand Castel, a

Jesuit, are given in the historical part. The coincidence of some

of his views with those of Goethe is often apparent: he objects,

for instance, to the arbitrary selection of the Newtonian spectrum;

observing that the colours change with every change of distance between

the prism and the recipient surface.--_Farbenl._ vol. ii. p. 527.

Jeremias Friedrich Gülich was a dyer in the neighbourhood of Stutgardt:

he published an elaborate work on the technical details of his own

pursuit.--_Farbenl._ vol. ii. p. 630.

NOTE B B.--Par. 748.

Goethe, in his account of Castel, suppresses the learned Jesuit's

attempt at colorific music (the claveçin oculaire), founded on the

Newtonian doctrine. Castel was complimented, perhaps ironically, on

having been the first to remark that there were but three principal

colours. In asserting his claim to the discovery, he admits that there

is nothing new. In fact, the notion of three colours is to be found in

Aristotle; for that philosopher enumerates no more in speaking of the

rainbow,[1] and Seneca calls them by their right names.[2] Compare with

Dante, Parad. c. 33. The relation between colours and sounds is in like

manner adverted to by Aristotle; he says--"It is possible that colours

may stand in relation to each other in the same manner as concords

in music, for the colours which are (to each other) in proportions

corresponding with the musical concords, are those which appear to

be the most agreeable."[3] In the latter part of the 16th century,

Arcimboldo, a Milanese painter, invented a colorific music; an account

of his principles and method will be found in a treatise on painting

which appeared about the same time. "Ammaestrato dal quai ordine Mauro

Cremonese dalla viola, musico dell' Imperadore Ridolfo II. trovò sul

gravicembalo tutte quelle consonanze che dall' Arcimboldo erano segnate

coi colori sopra una carta."[4]

[1] "De Meteor.," lib. 3, c. ii. and iv. He observes that this is the

only effect of colour which painters cannot imitate.

[2] "De Ignib. cœlest." The description of the prism by Seneca is

another instance of the truth of Castel's admission. The Roman

philosopher's words are--"Virgula solet fieri vitrea, stricta vel

pluribus angulis in modo clavæ tortuosæ; hæc si ex transverso solem

accipit colorem talem qualis in arcu videri solet, reddit," &c.

[3] "De Sensu et sensili."

[4] "Il Figino, overo del Fine della Pittura," Mantova, 1591, p. 249.

An account of the absurd invention of the same painter in composing

figures of flowers and animals, and even painting portraits in this

way, to the great delight of the emperor, will be found in the same

work.

NOTE C C.--Par. 758.

The moral associations of colours have always been a more favourite

subject with poets than with painters. This is to be traced to the

materials and means of description as distinguished from those of

representation. An image is more distinct for the mind when it is

compared with something that resembles it. An object is more distinct

for the eye when it is compared with something that differs from it.

Association is the auxiliary in the one case, contrast in the other.

The poet, of necessity, succeeds best in conveying the impression

of external things by the aid of analogous rather than of opposite

qualities: so far from losing their effect by this means, the images

gain in distinctness. Comparisons that are utterly false and groundless

never strike us as such if the great end is accomplished of placing

the thing described more vividly before the imagination. In the common

language of laudatory description the colour of flesh is like snow

mixed with vermilion: these are the words used by Aretino in one of

his letters in speaking of a figure of St. John, by Titian. Similar

instances without end might be quoted from poets: even a contrast can

only be strongly conveyed in description by another contrast that

resembles it.[1] On the other hand it would be easy to show that

whenever poets have attempted the painter's method of direct contrast,

the image has failed to be striking, for the mind's eye cannot see the

relation between two colours.

Under the same category of effect produced by association may be

classed the moral qualities in which poets have judiciously taken

refuge when describing visible forms and colours, to avoid competition

with the painters' elements, or rather to attain their end more

completely. But a little examination would show that very pleasing

moral associations may be connected with colours which would be far

from agreeable to the eye. All light, positive colours, light-green,

light-purple, white, are pleasing to the mind's eye, and no degree

of dazzling splendour is offensive. The moment, however, we have to

do with the actual sense of vision, the susceptibility of the eye

itself is to be considered, the law of comparison is reversed, colours

become striking by being opposed to what they are not, and their moral

associations are not owing to the colours themselves, but to the

modifications such colours undergo in consequence of what surrounds

them. This view, so naturally consequent on the principles the author

has himself arrived at, appears to be overlooked in the chapter under

consideration, the remarks in which, in other respects, are acute and

ingenious.

[1] Such as--

"Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear."

_Romeo and Juliet_.

NOTE D D.--Par. 849.

According to the usual acceptation of the term chiaro-scuro in the

artist world, it means not only the mutable effects produced by light

and shade, but also the permanent differences in brightness and

darkness which are owing to the varieties of local colour.

NOTE E E.--Par. 855.

The mannered treatment of light and shade here alluded to by the

author is very seldom to be met with in the works of the colourists;

the taste may have first arisen from the use of plaster-casts, and

was most prevalent in France and Italy in the early part of the last

century. Piazzetta represented it in Venice, Subleyras in Rome. In

France "Restout taught his pupils that a globe ought to be represented

as a polyhedron. Greuze most implicitly adopted the doctrine, and in

practice showed that he considered the round cheeks of a young girl or

an infant as bodies cut into facettes."[1]

[1] See Taylor's translation of Merimée on oil-painting, p. 27.

Barry, in a letter from Paris, speaks of Restout as the only painter

who resembled the earlier French masters: the manner in question is

undoubtedly sometimes very observable in Poussin. The English artist

elsewhere speaks of the "broad, happy manner of Subleyras."--_Works_,

London, 1809.

NOTE F F.--Par. 859.

All this was no doubt suggested by Heinrich Meyer, whose chief

occupation in Rome, at one time, was making sepia drawings from

sculpture (see Goethe's Italiänische Reise). It is hardly necessary to

say that the observation respecting the treatment of the surface in the

antique statues is very fanciful.

NOTE G G.--Par. 863.

This observation might have been suggested by the drawings of Claude,

which, with the slightest means, exhibit an harmonious balance of warm

and cold.

NOTE H H.--Par. 865.

The colouring of Paolo Uccello, according to Vasari's account of him,

was occasionally so remarkable that he might perhaps have been fairly

included among the instances of defective vision given by the author.

His skill in perspective, indicating an eye for gradation, may be also

reckoned among the points of resemblance (see Par. 105).

NOTE I I.--Par. 902.

The quotation before given from Boschini shows that the method

described by the author, and which is true with regard to some of the

Florentine painters, was not practised by the Venetians, for their

first painting was very solid. It agrees, however, with the manner

of Rubens, many of whose works sufficiently corroborate the account

of his process given by Descamps. "In the early state of Rubens's

pictures," says that writer,[1] "everything appeared like a thin wash;

but although he often made use of the ground in producing his tones,

the canvas was entirely covered more or less with colour." In this

system of leaving the shadows transparent from the first, with the

ground shining through them, it would have been obviously destructive

of richness to use white mixed with the darks, the brightness, in

fact, already existed underneath. Hence the well-known precept of

Rubens to avoid white in the shadows, a precept, like many others,

belonging to a particular practice, and involving all the conditions of

that practice.[2] Scarmiglione, whose Aristotelian treatise on colour

was published in Germany when Rubens was three-and-twenty, observes,

"Painters, with consummate art, lock up the bright colours with dark

ones, and, on the other hand, employ white, the poison of a picture,

very sparingly." (Artificiosissimè pictores claros obscuris obsepiant

et contra candido picturarum veneno summè parcentes, &c.)

[1] "La Vie des Peintres Flamands," vol. i.

[2] The method he recommended for keeping the colours pure in the

lights, viz. to place the tints next each other unmixed, and then

slightly to unite them, may have degenerated to a methodical manner

in the hands of his followers. Boschini, who speaks of Rubens himself

with due reverence, and is far from confounding him with his imitators,

contrasts such a system with that of the Venetians, and adds that

Titian used to say, "Chi de imbratar colori teme, imbrata e machia

si medemi."--_Carta del Navegar_, p. 341. The poem of Boschini is in

many respects polemical. He wrote at a time when the Flemish painters,

having adopted and modified the Venetian principles, threatened to

supersede the Italian masters in the opinion of the world. Their

excellence, too, had all the charm of novelty, for in the seventeenth

century Venice produced no remarkable talent, and it was precisely

the age for her to boast of past glories. The contemptuous manner in

which Boschini speaks of the Flemish varnishes, of the fear of mixing

tints, &c., is thus always to be considered with reference to the time

and circumstances. So also his boasting that the Venetian masters

painted without nature, which may be an exaggeration, is pointed at

the _Naturalisti_, Caravaggio and his followers, who copied nature

literally.

NOTE K K.--Par. 903.

The practice here alluded to is more frequently observable in slight

works by Paul Veronese. His ground was often pure white, and in some

of his works it is left as such. Titian's white ground was covered

with a light warm colour, probably at first, and appears to have

been similar to that to which Armenini gives the preference, namely,

"quella che tira al color di carne chiarissima con un non so che di

fiammeggiante."[1]

[1] "Veri Precetti della Pittura," p. 123.

NOTE L L.--Par. 919.

The notion which the author has here ventured to express may have

been suggested by the remarkable passage in the last canto of Dante's

"Paradiso"--

"Nella profonda e chiara sussistenza,

Dell' alto lume parremi tre giri

Di tre colori e d'una continenza," &c.

After the concluding paragraph the author inserts a letter from a

landscape-painter, Philipp Otto Runge, which is intended to show that

those who imitate nature may arrive at principles analogous to those of

the "Farbenlehre."

THE END.