The only way to judge of the treasures the Old Masters of whatever age
have left us--whether in architecture, sculpture, or painting--with any
hope of sound deduction, is to look at the work and ask oneself--"What
was that like when it was new?" The Elgin Marbles are allowed by common
consent to be the perfection of art. But how much of our feeling of
reverence is inspired by time? Imagine the Parthenon as it must have
looked with the frieze of the mighty Phidias fresh from the chisel.
Could one behold it in all its pristine beauty and splendour we should
see a white marble building, blinding in the dazzling brightness of a
southern sun, the figures of the exquisite frieze in all probability
painted--there is more than a suspicion of that--and the whole standing
out against the intense blue sky; and many of us, I venture to think,
would cry at once, "How excessively crude." No; Time and Varnish are two
of the greatest of Old Masters, and their merits and virtues are too
often attributed by critics--I do not of course allude to the
professional art-critics--to the painters of the pictures they have
toned and mellowed. The great artists all painted in _bright_ colours,
such as it is the fashion nowadays for men to decry as crude and vulgar,
never suspecting that what they applaud in those works is merely the
result of what they condemn in their contemporaries. Take a case in
point--the "Bacchus and Ariadne" in the National Gallery, with its
splendid red robe and its rich brown grass. You may rest assured that
the painter of that bright red robe never painted the grass brown. He
saw the colour as it was, and painted it as it was--distinctly green;
only it has faded with time to its present beautiful mellow colour. Yet
many men nowadays will not have a picture with green in it; there are
even buyers who, when giving a commission to an artist, will stipulate
that the canvas shall contain none of it. But God Almighty has given us
green, and you may depend upon it it's a fine colour.
_Millais._
C
I must further dissent from any opinion that beauty of surface and what
is technically called "quality" are mainly due to time. Sir John himself
has quoted the early pictures of Rembrandt as examples of hard and
careful painting, devoid of the charm and mystery so remarkable in his
later work. The early works of Velasquez are still more remarkable
instances, being, as they are, singularly tight and disagreeable--time
having done little or nothing towards making them more agreeable.
_Watts._