Art Principles Part 8

[b] The first at the Pitti Palace, the last at the Doria Gallery, and the others at the Louvre.

Rembrandt further aided the concentration of attention on the countenance of a sitter by the use of warm inconspicuous tones in the clothing, which harmonize with all kinds of surroundings in which the picture may be seen. The colours never specially attract the eye, and the attire consequently forms so completely a part of the figure, that after an inspection of the work one can rarely describe the costume.

This subordination of colour is of the highest importance in portraiture, though it is not sufficiently practised nowadays. Velasquez used quiet tones whenever possible, that is, when he was not painting great personages, and t.i.tian, Rubens, and Van Dyck, followed the same course in half-length portraits. None of these, however, seemed so careful as Rembrandt in adapting the tones to the general character of the figure, so that the impression left on the mind of the observer should relate entirely to the personality. Rembrandt, in fact, aimed at a representation of the man, and the man only; and he gave us a natural human being of a commonly known type, with his virtues somewhat emphasized, and his faults a little veiled.

The extraordinary power of Velasquez as a portraitist was due to the same general cause operating in the case of Rembrandt, namely, extreme simplicity in design. Apart from those instances where royal or official personages had to be represented in decorative attire, every portrait of Velasquez is merely the impress of a personality. There are no accessories; the clothing is subordinated to the last degree, and there is nothing for the eye to grasp but a perfectly drawn set of features thrown into strong relief by a method of chiaroscuro unsurpa.s.sed in depth and accuracy. Thus, as in the case of Rembrandt, the portrait fulfils the first law of art--the picture is thrown on the brain in the least possible fraction of time.

Velasquez was remarkable in a greater degree than any other artist, if we except Hals, for his facility in execution. In his brush-work he appeared to do the right thing at all times without hesitation, achieving the most perfect balance as if by instinct. So far as we can judge from those instances where his subjects were painted also by other artists, his portraits are good likenesses, but he followed the best practice in generalizing the countenance to the fullest extent. It is unfortunate that his work was confined to so poor a variety of sitters.

Of his known portraits more than half represent Philip IV. or his relatives; eight others are n.o.bles of the time, and another half dozen are dwarfs and buffoons, leaving only seventeen examples of the artist's work amongst ordinary people. There never was a weaker royal family than that of Philip IV., and it is really astonis.h.i.+ng how Velasquez was able to produce such excellent works of art by means of their portraits. With his abnormal lips and weak face, the king himself must have been a most difficult person to enn.o.ble, yet the painter managed in three portraits to give him a highly distinguished countenance and bearing, without in any way suggesting exaggeration.[a] Of another weak man--Innocent X.--Velasquez painted what Reynolds described as the greatest portrait he saw in Rome; and it is truly one of the most amazing life representations ever executed.[b] A reddish face peers out through a blaze of warm surroundings and background; a face in full relief as if cut out of apoplectic flesh--almost appalling in its verity. It is like nothing else that Velasquez painted: it overpowers with its combined strength and realism. But it is a picture to see occasionally, and admire as a great imitation. If one lived with it, the colour would hurt the eye, the unpleasant face would tire the mind. Such a face should not be painted: it should be carved in stone, where truth may be given to form without the protrusion of mortal decay. Bernini sculptured the countenance, and gave the Pope a certain majesty which no painting could present. As a life portrait the work of Velasquez is unrivalled, but as a pure work of art, it is behind the three portraits of Philip IV.

already mentioned. A distinctly unhealthy face cannot be produced in portraiture without injuring the art, for it is a variety of distortion.

[a] The full example at the Prado; the Parma full length, in the Frick Coll., N. Y.; and the three-quarter length portrait at the Imperial Gallery, Vienna.

[b] In the Doria Gallery, Rome.

Velasquez was so naturally a portraitist that apart from his actual portrait work, every figure composition he painted seems to consist merely of the portraits of a group of persons. He took little pains to connect the figures in a life action, often painting them with a look of unconcern with the proceedings around them, as if specially posing for the artist. In several of his works there are faces looking right out of the picture, and it is evident that in these the artist had little thought in his mind away from portrait presentation.[a] The Surrender of Breda and Las Meninas,[b] regarded generally as his best compositions, are admittedly portrait groupings, but the setting in each case is one of action, and hence the faces looking out of the picture are a great drawback, as they disrobe the illusion of a natural scene. That a man so accurate in his drawing, so perfect in his chiaroscuro, and so skilful in his brushwork, should yet be so conspicuously limited in imagination, is a problem which art historians have yet to solve.

[a] See The Breakfast, Hermitage; Christ in the House of Martha, National Gallery, London; and The Drinkers, Prado.

[b] Both at the Prado.

Franz Hals was on a level with Velasquez in respect of facility in execution, and like him seems to have been a born portraitist. His brushwork was so rapid and decisive that in scarcely any of his designs is there evidence of deliberation. He seems to have been able to take in the essential features of a subject at a glance, and to transfer them to canvas without preliminaries, producing an amazing countenance with the least possible detail. Though some of his large groups are a little stiff, this is rather through his want of capacity in invention than a set purpose of exaggeration with a view to heightening the dignity of pose, for it is obvious that Hals had little imagination, and knew nothing of the boundless possibilities of his art in general composition. He appears to have pa.s.sed through life without concern for his work beyond material results, being well convinced that the magic of his execution would leave nothing further for the public to desire.

In the last forty years of his life he made no advance in his art except in one respect, but the change was great, for it doubled the art value of his portraits. He learned how to subordinate his colours; how to modify his chiaroscuro in order to force the immediate attention of the observer on the countenance of his subject.[52] Such an advance with such an artist placed him in the rank of the immortals among the portraitists.

It will be seen that in the judgment of the greatest painters, decoration in a portrait should be altogether subordinated to the truthful representation of character, this practice being only varied when the personage portrayed is of public importance, and the portrait is required more or less as a monument. The rule is natural and reasonable, being based upon the universal agreement that the all-important part of a man comprehended by the vision is his countenance. But the rule only strictly applies to a single figure portrait, for when the painter goes beyond this, and executes a double portrait or a multiple group, he restricts the scope of his art. Other things being equal a double portrait is necessarily inferior art to a single figure picture, since the dual objective complicates the impression of the work on the brain, and the only remedy, or partial remedy, for this drawback possessed by the painter is to introduce accessories and arrange his group in a subject design. This plan results in detracting from the force of the actual portraits, as it divides the attention of the observer, but there is no help for it unless one is content with the representation of the figures in a stiff and formal way which extinguishes the pictorial effect of the work.

The greatest artists have avoided dual or triple portrait works where possible except in cases of gatherings of members of the same family, as one of these groups may be regarded as a unity by the observer.

Nevertheless in his picture of Leo X., and the two younger Medici,[a]

Raphael was careful to subordinate the cardinals so that they should appear little more than accessories in a painting of the Pope; an example which was followed not quite so successfully by t.i.tian in his triple portrait of Paul III. with the two brothers Farnese.[b] A group of two persons who are in some way a.s.sociated with each other, though unconnected in action, rarely looks out of place, as in the pictures of father and son, or of two brothers, painted by Van Dyck, or in The Amba.s.sadors of Holbein,[c] but no painter has yet succeeded in producing a first-cla.s.s work of art out of a multiple portrait group when the personages represented are unconnected with each other, either directly in action, or indirectly through a.s.sociation derived from the t.i.tle. The picture of Rubens representing Lipsius and three others, would appear much more stiff and formal than it is, without one of the two t.i.tles given to it, notwithstanding the general excellence of the composition.[d] When the figures introduced are very numerous, as in the many groups of civic organizations painted by Hals, Ravesteyn, and others, the compulsory formality seriously detracts from the aesthetic value of the works, however superior they may be in execution, or whatever the connection of the personages represented; and when we come to such crowded paintings as Terburg's Signing the Peace of Munster,[e]

we obtain but little more than a record, though it be of absorbing historical interest.

[a] Pitti Palace, Florence.

[b] Naples Museum.

[c] National Gallery, London.

[d] The Four Philosophers, or Lipsius and his Disciples, Pitti Palace.

[e] National Gallery, London.

It is observable that as a rule portraitists have been more successful with delineations of men than of women. This is to be accounted for by the necessity for subordinating the representation of character to the art in the case of women unless they have pa.s.sed the prime of life; while with men the art is usually subordinated to the portrait, character being sought independently of sensorial beauty. Strictly it is the duty of the artist to make his portrait, whether of a man or a woman, sensorially attractive, but here again in portraiture custom and convention have to be considered with the rules of art. It is agreed that with a woman sensorial beauty must be produced if that be possible, even with the sacrifice of certain elements of character; but with a man the portrait must be recognized by the acquaintances of the subject as corresponding in most details with his life appearance. The future of the portrait is out of the question for the time being. Nevertheless the painter has certain advantages in dealing with the features of a man, for the presence of lines in the brow, or other evidence of experience, does not interfere with the n.o.bility or dignity which may be added to his general bearing; but what would be lines in the countenance of a man would be wrinkles in that of a woman, because here they can scarcely be neutralized by att.i.tude and expression which imply strength of character, without destroying what is best described as womanly charm, which is a compulsory feature in every woman's portrait. With a man therefore the portraitist considers character first and emphasizes qualities of form within his power; while with a woman, during the period of her bloom, beauty of form and feature must be the first care of the artist, unconflicting qualities of character being emphasized or added.

All this was of course recognized by the great portraitists of the Renaissance and the seventeenth century, but while most of them endeavoured to enhance the sensorial beauty of their men subjects, little attempt was made to add intellectual grace to the portrayals of women. Antonio Moro[a] and Van Dyck, in their full length portraits of women, sometimes succeeded in converting dignity of form into what we understand as grandeur, which implies dignity of expression as well as grace and dignity of form, but they were largely handicapped by the dress fas.h.i.+ons of their times. They had to deal with heavy formal drapery which hung over the figures like elongated bells, and bid defiance to freedom of pose. When fas.h.i.+ons and customs had so changed as to allow of definition being given to the figures, Van Dyck had been dead for many years. Meanwhile Hals, Rembrandt, Velasquez, and hundreds of lesser lights, were casting around their flowers of form and mind, but all on the old plan, for it is difficult to find a portrait of a woman painted during the century succeeding Van Dyck, where beauty of feature is allied to n.o.bility in expression.

[a] Catilina of Portugal, and Maria of Austria, both at the Prado.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLATE 14 (See page 168) Sacrifice of Iphigenia (Pompeian Fresco) Supposed copy of a painting by Timanthes]

The production of this combination awaited the maturity of Reynolds, who with Gainsborough, broke into a new field in the portraiture of women.

Gainsborough took the grandeur of Van Dyck for his pattern, but improved upon it by subst.i.tuting simplicity for dignity and elaboration, which he was able to manage without great difficulty, as he had a clear advantage over the Flemish master in that the costumes in use in his time were lighter in character, and permitted of the contour of form being properly exhibited. This simple grace of form allied to grandeur in bearing, naturally brings about an apparent modification in expression in conformity with it, so long as there are no conflicting elements in expression present, which Gainsborough was careful to avoid. Reynolds went further than Gainsborough, for after the middle of his career he directly added an expression of n.o.bility to his portraits of women whenever the features would admit of it, and so brought about the highest type of feminine portraiture known in art. He was more nearly allied to t.i.tian than Van Dyck, and though in sheer force of sensorial beauty he did not reach the level of the Venetian master, yet in pure feminine portraiture, where high beauty of expression is combined with a perfect generalization of the features, Reynolds is unsurpa.s.sed in the history of painting, so far as we can judge from examples remaining to us. For we must estimate an artist from his best work. Reynolds painted forty or fifty portraits of women of the character indicated, and a few of them, notably Mrs. Siddons as Tragedy,[a] and Mrs.

Billington as St. Cecilia,[b] are amongst the most luminous examples of feminine portraiture in existence. There are many artists who equalled Reynolds in the representation of men, but there are very few indeed who even attempted to strike a just balance between sensorial and intellectual effects in the countenance of a woman.

[a] Westminster Coll., London.

[b] New York Public Library.

With such great leaders as Reynolds and Gainsborough, it might have been hoped that the school they founded in portraiture would have taken a long lease of life, but it rapidly died away, leaving very few indeed of footsteps sunk deep in the sands of glory, save those of Raeburn, Hoppner, Lawrence, and Romney. But between Reynolds and Romney there is a wide gulf, for while the former sought for his beauty among the higher gifts of nature, Romney, with rare exceptions, was content with a formal expression allied to grace of pose. We may shortly consider this graceful att.i.tude for it seems to be often regarded as an all-sufficing feature in the representation of women.[53]

The charm of grace lies chiefly in movement, and a graceful att.i.tude in repose implies rest from graceful movement, but this att.i.tude is ephemeral in nature, for if prolonged it quickly becomes an artificial pose. In art therefore, a graceful pose, whether exhibited in action or at rest, must soon tire unless attractive expression be present to deepen the impress of the work upon the mind of the observer. The general aesthetic value of graceful form in a painted figure varies with the scale to which the figure is drawn. With a heroic figure, grace is of the smallest importance; in one of life size, as a portrait for instance, the quality is of considerable a.s.sisting value; and as the scale is diminished, so does the relative value of grace increase. This is because details of expression can be less truthfully rendered in small figures than in those of life size, while in miniature figures certain high qualities of expression, as n.o.bility, or a combined expression of mind and form, as grandeur, can be scarcely indicated at all, so that purely sensorial beauty, as that arising from grace of pose, becomes of comparatively vast importance. This was well understood in ancient times. The Grecian sculptured life-size figures are nearly always graceful, but the grace arises naturally from perfection of form and expression, and not from a specially added quality, a particular grace of pose being always subordinated, if present at all. On the other hand, in the smaller Grecian figures, such as those found at Tanagra and in Asia Minor, anything in expression beyond regularity of features is not attempted, but grace is always present, and it is entirely upon this that the beauty of the figurines depends. We may presume from the frescoes opened out at Pompeii, that the ancients were well aware of the value and limitations of grace in art. In all these decorations where the figures are of a general type, as fauns, bacchantes, nereids, dancers, and so on, they are represented in motion, flying drapery being skilfully used to provide illusion. Grace is the highest quality evident in these forms, while the expression is invariably negative. For pure wall decorations, which are observed in a casual way, a high quality of grace such as these frescoes provide is all-sufficient, but as with the Greeks, the Romans did not make grace a leading feature in serious art.

With the great painters of the Renaissance, n.o.bility, grandeur, and general perfection of form and expression, though necessarily implying a certain grace in demeanour, altogether dwarfed the feature of grace of pose. In the seventeenth century, grace was subordinated to dignity of form in the case of Van Dyck and Velasquez, and to actual life experience with Rubens and Rembrandt. When either of these last two added a quality of form to their figures, it was always dignity and not grace. Murillo was the first Spanish painter to pay particular attention to the grace of his figures, but he never gave it predominance. The French masters of the period, Le Brun, Le Sueur, Poussin, Mignard, and Rigaud, leaned too closely to cla.s.sical traditions to permit of grace playing a leading part in their designs, though some of slightly lesser fame as Noel and Antoine Coypel, appeared to attribute considerable value to the quality. It was during this century in Italy that grace first appeared as a prominent feature in figure painting. In his pastoral and cla.s.sical scenes, Albani seems to have largely relied upon it for his beauty, and Cignani, Andrea Sacchi, Sa.s.soferrato, and others followed in his footsteps in this respect, though up to the end of the century no attempt was made in portraiture to sacrifice other features to grace of pose. Rosalba then made her appearance as a portraitist, and she was the first to rest the entire beauty of her work on sensorial charm of feature and grace of pose. She developed a weakened school in France which culminated with Nattier; and in England, Angelica Kauffmann, and some miniature painters, notably Cosway and Humphrey, took up her system for their life-size portraits, while many artists "in small" as Cipriani and Bartolozzi, a.s.sisted in forming a cult of the style. But of the greater British painters, only Romney gave high importance to grace of pose in portraits of women. It is safer for an artist to eschew grace of pose altogether than to sacrifice higher qualities to it. A little added dignity is always preferable to a graceful att.i.tude in a portrait, because in nature it is not so evanescent a feature. Grace is a good a.s.sisting quality, but an inferior subst.i.tute.

The greatest repose possible is necessary in a portrait, as a suggestion of action tends to draw the attention of the observer to it, thus impeding the impression of the whole upon his mind. The leading portraitists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries never erred in this matter, unless we except a single work by t.i.tian--the portrait group of Paul III. and the Cardinals Farnese, where the last named has just arrived and is apparently in the act of bowing before completing his final step; but even here it may be fairly argued that a moment of rest between two parts of the final action is to be presumed. It was not an uncommon practice of Van Dyck to pose a subject arrested in the act of walking, or with one foot on the lowest step of a stairway as if about to ascend; but in each of these instances the head is turned, and it is obvious that the motion is temporarily stayed.[a] A similar pose was sometimes adopted by British artists of the eighteenth century with conspicuous success. If a portrait figure be painted in the act of walking on level ground, the feet must be together even if the moment represented be that between two steps in the action, because it is contrary to all experience for a man to rest while so walking, with one foot in front of the other. In a general composition the representation of a man walking with the feet separated is permissible, because it is part of a general action, and accessory in its nature, but in a portrait the beginning and end of the action depicted are usually unknown, and hence any action must be meaningless and disturbing to the observer.[b]

[a] See Earl of Pembroke, Wilton Coll., Countess of Devons.h.i.+re, Chatsworth, and Philip le Roy, Wallace Coll., all in England.

[b] See Chase's Master Roland, private Coll., N. Y.; and Manet's Boy with a Sword, Met. Museum, N. Y.

The French and English artists of the eighteenth century followed the practice of their predecessors in avoiding the exhibition of movement in their portraits, but occasionally they departed from the rule. In his fine portrait of Mrs. Thomas Raikes, Romney shows the lady playing a harpsichord, with the fingers apparently in motion; and in his group of the Ladies Spencer, one of them is fingering a harp. The result in each case is a stiff att.i.tude which detracts from the beauty of the work. Van Dyck managed such a design in a much better way, for in his portrait of his wife with a cello, she holds the bow distinctly at rest.[a] t.i.tian also, when representing a man at an organ, shows his hands stayed, while turning his head.[b] Reynolds moved aside once from the custom in respect of action,[c] and Raeburn seems also to have erred only on a single occasion.[d]

[a] Munich Gallery.

[b] Venus and the Organ Player, Prado.

[c] Viscountess Crosbie, Tennant Coll., London.

[d] Dr. Nathaniel Spens, Royal Co. of Archers, Edinburgh.

CHAPTER XI

EXPRESSION. PART VI--MISCELLANEOUS

Grief--The smile--The open mouth--Contrasts--Representation of death.

The painter has ever to be on his guard against over-emphasis of facial expression. His first object is to present an immediately intelligible composition, and this being accomplished, much has already been done towards providing appropriate expressions for his characters. It has been seen that att.i.tude alone may appear to lend to a countenance suitable expression which is not observed when the head of the figure is considered separately; and while such a condition is not frequent, its possibility indicates that the painter is warranted in relying more or less upon the details of his action for conveying the state of mind of the personages concerned therein. It is not the purpose here to deal with the various forms of expression that may be of use to the painter, nor indeed is it necessary. The work of Raphael alone leaves little to be learned in respect of the expression of emotion so far as it may be exhibited in a painting[54]; but there are a few matters in relation to the subject which appear to require attention, judging from experience of modern painting, and short notes upon them are here given.

GRIEF

Intense grief is the most difficult expression to depict in the whole art of painting, because in nature it usually results in distortion of the features, which the artist must avoid at all cost. Of the thousands of paintings of scenes relating to the Crucifixion, where the Virgin is presumed to be in great agony at the foot of the Cross, very rarely has an artist attempted to portray this agony in realistic manner.[a] He generally subst.i.tutes for grief an expression of sorrow which is produced without contraction of the features. This expression, which is invariably accompanied with extreme pallor, does not prevent the addition of a certain n.o.bility to the countenance, and hence no suggestion of insufficiency arises in the mind of the observer. But the sublime expression which may be given to the Virgin would be out of place in her attendants who are not infrequently made hideous through attempts to represent them as overcome with grief.

[a] A notable exception is Poussin's Descent from the Cross, Hermitage.

A method of avoiding the difficulty is to conceal the face of the personage presumed to be suffering from grief. Timanthes is recorded by Pliny as having painted a picture of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia in which the head of Agamemnon was completely covered by his robe; and a picture of the same subject in a Pompeian fresco represents the Grecian monarch hiding his face with his right hand, while the left gathers up his robe.[a] This invention was the subject of considerable discussion in Europe in the eighteenth century, in which Reynolds, Falconet, Lessing, and others took part. Reynolds said of the device that an artist might use it once, but if he did so a second time, he would be justly suspected of improperly evading difficulties. Falconet compared the action of Timanthes to that of a poet who avoided expressing certain sentiments on the ground that the action of his hero was above anything that could be said[b]; while Lessing held that the grief which overcame Agamemnon could only find expression in distortion, and hence the artist was right in covering the face.[c] Unquestionably Lessing was justified, for nothing more is demanded of the painter than to impress the imagination of the observer with the intensity of the grief depicted, and in this he succeeds. Obviously the poet is in a different position from the painter because he can express deep grief easily enough without suggesting distortion of the features.