230. It is to be remembered, in the next place, that while contrast
exhibits the _characters_ of things, it very often neutralizes or
paralyzes their _power_. A number of white things may be shown to be
clearly white by opposition of a black thing, but if we want the full
power of their gathered light, the black thing may be seriously in our
way. Thus, while contrast displays things, it is unity and sympathy
which employ them, concentrating the power of several into a mass. And,
not in art merely, but in all the affairs of life, the wisdom of man is
continually called upon to reconcile these opposite methods of
exhibiting, or using, the materials in his power. By change he gives
them pleasantness, and by consistency value; by change he is refreshed,
and by perseverance strengthened.
231. Hence many compositions address themselves to the spectator by
aggregate force of color or line, more than by contrasts of either; many
noble pictures are painted almost exclusively in various tones of red,
or gray, or gold, so as to be instantly striking by their breadth of
flush, or glow, or tender coldness, these qualities being exhibited only
by slight and subtle use of contrast. Similarly as to form; some
compositions associate massive and rugged forms, others slight and
graceful ones, each with few interruptions by lines of contrary
character. And, in general, such compositions possess higher sublimity
than those which are more mingled in their elements. They tell a special
tale, and summon a definite state of feeling, while the grand
compositions merely please the eye.
232. This unity or breadth of character generally attaches most to the
works of the greatest men; their separate pictures have all separate
aims. We have not, in each, gray color set against somber, and sharp
forms against soft, and loud passages against low: but we have the
bright picture, with its delicate sadness; the somber picture, with its
single ray of relief; the stern picture, with only one tender group of
lines; the soft and calm picture, with only one rock angle at its flank;
and so on. Hence the variety of their work, as well as its
impressiveness. The principal bearing of this law, however, is on the
separate masses or divisions of a picture: the character of the whole
composition may be broken or various, if we please, but there must
certainly be a tendency to consistent assemblage in its divisions. As an
army may act on several points at once, but can only act effectually by
having somewhere formed and regular masses, and not wholly by
skirmishers; so a picture may be various in its tendencies, but must be
somewhere united and coherent in its masses. Good composers are always
associating their colors in great groups; binding their forms together
by encompassing lines, and securing, by various dexterities of
expedient, what they themselves call "breadth:" that is to say, a large
gathering of each kind of thing into one place; light being gathered to
light, darkness to darkness, and color to color. If, however, this be
done by introducing false lights or false colors, it is absurd and
monstrous; the skill of a painter consists in obtaining breadth by
rational arrangement of his objects, not by forced or wanton treatment
of them. It is an easy matter to paint one thing all white, and another
all black or brown; but not an easy matter to assemble all the
circumstances which will naturally produce white in one place, and brown
in another. Generally speaking, however, breadth will result in
sufficient degree from fidelity of study: Nature is always broad; and if
you paint her colors in true relations, you will paint them in majestic
masses. If you find your work look broken and scattered, it is, in all
probability, not only ill composed, but untrue.
233. The opposite quality to breadth, that of division or scattering of
light and color, has a certain contrasting charm, and is occasionally
introduced with exquisite effect by good composers.[70] Still it is
never the mere scattering, but the order discernible through this
scattering, which is the real source of pleasure; not the mere
multitude, but the constellation of multitude. The broken lights in the
work of a good painter wander like flocks upon the hills, not
unshepherded, speaking of life and peace: the broken lights of a bad
painter fall like hailstones, and are capable only of mischief, leaving
it to be wished they were also of dissolution.