works of Titian; and to judge from his writings, appears to have entered into most of his excellencies. The following observation, upon the principles on which that artist commonly conducted the light and shadow of his pictures, strikes us as highly judicious. "A general reflection which I have made on Titian's works is, that he keeps as much as possible the light and shadow from halving his figures. He avoids putting one half of the leg or the arm in the light, and the other in the shadow, which is practised by others. Titian supposes his light, generally speaking, to be near the centre of his picture, or rather near the point of sight, by which means, the shadows are projected into the fondos, and upon the extremities of his figures. When he brings in a shadow, it occupies a large space, it covers a whole limb, from the knee down, &c. His light is one, and his shadows one, (which is an excellent rule ;) and, as he always takes care to link all the shadows together, ingeniously, and as he does the same with his lights, the strongest lights are near the centre, and the strongest and broadest dark always in the extremity of his picture." Vol. 2, p. 51. His remarks however upon Titian's mode of painting, are by no means to be always relied on; and we are inclined to believe, that the artist who should follow his instructions, would find it somewhat difficult to produce the brilliant and rich effects of that great master with such colours as umber, black, and burnt, and unburnt ochres," that hand too, must indeed be a practised one, which, with a single dead colour and a few subsequent touches, can produce the truth, solidity, and exquisite finish, which distinguish the works of Titian above those of almost every other master.That a man of Barry's versatility and want of method should have fallen into these and other errors, ought not perhaps to excite our surprise, when we reflect, that some very able commentators on his works have, amidst a variety of sound and perspicuous observations, introduced some doctrines of a very different description, and have endeavoured to establish principles utterly subversive of the higher departments of painting. But possibly these writers may imagine, that they are doing a service to mankind, by depreciating an art which, though it has hitherto been consider ed as one of the greatest efforts of hu man intellect, is, in their opinion, utterly incapable of conveying either "religious, moral, or political instruction." How far this assertion may be just, we shall not stop to inquire, yet we cannot help thinking that many a youthful Athenian has been warmed by the picture of the lowers to glory, and has caught, at hero of Marathon conducting his folthe moment, that noble spark of enthusiasm, which might subsequently prompt him to merit, by his actions, an equal portion of the praise and veneration of his countrymen. Our own times have furnished an instance applicable to the present occasion; and few Britons, we believe, can behold the late Mr West's death of Wolfe, without feeling deeply affected by the impressive lesson, and powerfully stimulated to imitate the illustrious example. The same observations may be made upon religious subjects; and however Mr Barry may have failed in his attempt, it is evident, from the suffrages of all who have visited Italy, that Michael Angelo and Raphael, by their noble productions in the Vatican, have advanced the cause both of morality and religion. Nothing indeed can be of more essential service to a feeling and reflecting mind, than those elevated thoughts and solemn musings, which the serious contemplation of such works irresistibly inspires. In their presence, time and space seem to vanish before us, and we feel ourselves transported into the society of those who greatly "fought, and spoke, and sung," till, catching a portion of that noble enthusiasm which animated them, and directed their energies, we feel the mind become enlarged, and ready to share in their trials and their sufferings, to participate in their glory and renown. These are sensations which cannot be too frequently nor too variously excited, and it is to the glory of painting, that, with the exception of poetry, she awakens them in a more intense and lively manner than perhaps any other art or science. To multiply the means of excitement, should form one grand object with every wise and enlightened government; and accordingly we find, that in the brightest periods of human history, the arts, and particularly the imitative arts, have been fostered and cultivated with peculiar care and at 4 tention, not because, in the strict sense of the word, their productions were merely" pleasing" to the eye, but because they recorded the achievements of warriors, statesmen, and philosophers, and perpetuated the memory of departed greatness. An art however like painting, which is addressed chiefly to the feelings and the passions, we are aware, may be perverted to the most hateful and dangerous purposes, and become, in the hands of vice, the instrument of seduction and depravity: Yet, let us not thence conclude, that it may not also be applied to the noblest and the best designs. Like every other human pursuit, it is liable to vicious application, but, for this reason precisely, were others wanting, it is peculiarly incumbent upon us not to depress it below its proper station, by stripping it of all its dignity and brightest ornaments. So long as the art shall be looked upon with admiration and respect, so long will men of liberality, intellect, and genius, feel disposed to devote themselves to its study. The instant, however, when it shall be considered as the instrument of mere sensual gratification, it will become the trifle of the hour, and its professors will be classed with those whose talents are confined to the mimicry of the stage, or the amusing efforts of the fiddler and the opera dancer. These ideas of art and of its professors, were already too prevalent to need support from the commentators to whom we have alluded. We are aware indeed, that there is a certain description of persons in this country, to whom these doctrines may appear highly just and salutary, and it would not be difficult, (were it within the sphere of our function) to point out some among them, who not only think that "want" is a necessary stimulus to improvement in the art, but also, that artists in general ought never to aspire even to the comforts and decencies of life, but should confine their ambition to the limits of their painting garret, the delights of their profession, and the ample rewards of posthumous fame. All this, we can assure our readers, however enthusiastical and delightful in theory, is not quite so agreeable when reduced to practice. It is true, indeed, that affluence may, and we believe generally does produce, an inactivity and indolence very detrimental to the progress of genius, but absolute want and misery are yet more destructive of its advancement. Few occupations demand closer attention or require. more incessant application, than the study of painting-in order to produce any thing excellent in the art, it is indispensably necessary, that the mind should be calm, and capable of devoting itself to the object exclusively which it has in contemplation; it should be in good humour with itself, and have no "rating cares" to harass and perplex it, like those which are attendant upon the victims of poverty and misfortune. Perhaps, from the very nature of his profession, a painter is peculiarly alive to the mortifications of neglect and disappointment, for in general, he is a man of strong passions and of irritable feelings, and possesses almost constitutionally, a decided taste for the elegancies of life. "Seul il suffiroit pour faire sa propre misere, en se livrant indiscrettement aux attraits divins de l'honnête et du beau, tandis que les pesantes chaines de la nécessité attachent a l'ignominie." This taste is fostered and encouraged by the habits of his life, and by his necessarily mixing in the polished circles of the higher classes; hence, acquiring a relish for that fascinating society which, when wit and education are blended with high birth and refined manners, possesses charms for those who have once experienced it, which render every other comparatively tasteless and insipid. Unfortunately, however, the enjoyment of these refined pleasures is unavoidably attended by a correspondent draft upon the pocket of the painter, who, in order to be admitted to such society, must live like a gentleman, or be frequently exposed to that species of reception which is not very agreeable to a man of feeling and spirit. Now, though the necessary expenses of a person, so situated, may not appear very enormous to those accustomed to live in affluence, yet, to gentlemen condemned to take up their abode in the aerial apartments we have mentioned, it becomes a very serious affair; to refuse, however, the invitations of patrons, or to decline mingling in their society, would prove the worse alternative; would, in fact, be giving up at once every chance for the artist bettering his situation, and would tend only to expose him, like poor Barry, to the ungenerous persecution of his enemies, and to the unfeeling sarcasms of frigid and illiberal criticism. Thus circumstanced, should he persevere in his profession, an artist is almost compelled to speculate upon the slender patrimony he may possess, or upon the future supposed success of his own exertions. Unhappily, in a country like this, where pictures are considered generally more as articles of merchandise than as works of art, such speculations are rarely productive. It is true indeed, that immense sums are annually expended upon pictures in this country, one quarter of which, if applied with taste and discernment, would prove more than equal to raise the art and its professors to every thing which their nost sanguine votaries could desire; but, as these sums are now directed, they have a much greater tendency to promote the chicanery and charlatanism of the picture-dealer, than to encourage the exertions of the neglected painter, who too frequently witnesses that opulence lavished upon the disfigured remnants of former ages, which, if sparingly only administered to his necessities, would cheer his hopes, and animate his exertions, to the production of works that might rival eventually those of the most enlightened periods of antiquity. Under these mortifying circumstances, the majority of our painters have passed the larger portion of their lives; many have sunk in the contest, oppressed by anxiety and want, and in an carly grave have sheltered a wounded spirit and a broken heart-while the success of those who have been more fortunate, has been little better than a gleam of sunshine gilding the evening of a tempestuous day. The fact is, we are apt to do every thing too much in the spirit of trade; ancient pictures are bought at exorbi tant prices, not so much from any intrinsic excellence which is perceived in them, as from the hope of converting them into means for obtaining money. On these occasions, it is neither the interest of the subject, nor the excellence of the design, nor the beauty of the colouring, that stamps a value upon the picture; but the name and celebrity of the painter; the number of hands through which it has passed, and the various anecdotes connected with its history; while the more modern production, which possesses none of these advantages, is doomed, for a season, to neglect and oblivion: we say, for a season, because we are fully persuaded that, sooner or later, great excellence will force its way into notice, and triumph over the caprices of ignorance and fashion: unhappily, however, this triumph, as in the case of Wilson, may come too late, when the artist has shrunk into "still unconsciousness," and become alike insensible to the voice of fame and the cravings of necessity. Sometimes indeed, through adventitious circumstances, a living painter, of very inferior excellence, may become the idol of the day; but this species of ephemeral distinction, resting on no solid foundation, is as rapidly dissipated as it was acquired; the public relapses into its natural apathy, or engages in the pursuit of some new wonder, who is abandoned in his turn. Such must ever be the state of painting and its professors, in a country where the encouragement is circumscribed within the narrow limits of commercial speculation, where the public possesses little taste, or real knowledge to direct its judgment, and still less of that warmth and enthusiasm which prompted the elegant and enlightened characters of the 15th century, to foster and support the youthful attempts of a Raphael, or an Angelo. Nor was the patronage of these illustrious protectors of genius confined solely to employment and pecuniary assistance, but was extended to objects of at least equal importance: they received the artist into their private friendship; and, by the attentions and honours with which they loaded him, gave him an eminent rank in society, and taught him to appreciate justly his own importance, and the dignity of his profession.Some little deference also, in these old-fashioned times, was shewn to the professional judgment of artists, who were very naturally conjectured to possess rather more acquaintance with the subject, which had occupied exclusively the study of their lives, than those who had only casually considered it as an accomplishment or an amusement. It was left, as it should, to the sagacity and modesty of the present day, to discover," that artists are not always the least fallible judges in their own art,"-and that a re Sir Joshua Reynolds was markable instance" of this fact. Into the truth or falsehood of such an assertion, we shall not now enter, but we own we could have wished, that rather more convincing evidence had been adduced in its support, than the circumstance of his placing some pictures in his gallery that were not origine! Need we observe, that the motives which induce artists to purchase pictures, are of a totally different complexion from those which influence the picture-dealer? Or, that it is of very trifling import to the former, whether a picture be painted by this or that hand, provided it possess excellence, from which some`valuable hint or instruction may be gathered? No one, indeed, ever knew to seize and improve such advantages better than Sir Joshua himself; from an halfpenny picture or an indifferent woodcut, he has often been known to form the ground-work of some of his most successful productions; and it appears to us, therefore, to be something worse than rashness to doubt whether this distinguished artist, "derived most benefit or injury" from the old pictures which he kept in his painting room, as occasional objects for reference. We should not have dwelt at such length on many of the foregoing topics, had we not perceived that, under the pretext of reprobating the eccentricities and failings of Barry, the art itself and its professors are insiduously attacked. Like most other bodies of men, painters have their singularities and frailties; the worst, however, we know of them, arises from their mutual jealousies and unworthy bickerings among themselves; perhaps also, in order to obtain popularity or a temporary advantage over their rivals, some of them may be apt to sanction by their authority the impositions of the picture-dealer, and of the various empyrics of the day. These practices are indeed unworthy of men engaged in the pursuit of a liberal and honourable profession. It may, however, be offered in excuse, if not in complete justification, that necessity, rather than inclination, too often prompts their conduct on such occasions. Many respectable artists pursue a widely different course; but we are sorry to remark, that their success in life has seldom been proportionate with the integrity of their principles. Among the foremost of them we place the unfortunate Barry; for as such we must consider him, although at the end of a most laborious life, he probably had accumulated" the enormous sum of L.2,700. It is easy for those who are rolling in affluence to talk of the "comforts" with which this miserable pittance could "amply supply" the necessities and infirmities of a persecuted and forlorn old man; but if the means of gratifying almost every human desire have not extinguished all generous feeling in the breasts of his detractors, we would wish them to reflect upon the sacrifices and severe privations by which even this slender subsistence must have been accumulated, and to mitigate the asperity with which they have treated the memory of a man whose genius and misfortunes ought at least to have insured him respect, and the undis turbed possession of an humble grave. Indeed, we know of nothing in the life of Barry, whatever may have been insinuated to his prejudice, which can justify severe animadversion. His eccentricities and his faults were too palpable and of too disagreeable a nature to make their example contagious; while the vigorous energy of his mind, and the estimable qualities of his heart, render his character, in some points, worthy of imitation rather than of censure. We have already had occasion to notice the apparent warmth of his filial piety and fraternal affec tion; and many of his letters bear an equally honourable testimony to the sincerity of his friendship, and the frankness of his disposition. His integrity and intrepid independence of spirit are no less conspicuous throughout the greater part of his writings, and reflect a kind of dignity upon his character, of which neither the malevolence of his enemies, nor the extravagancies of his own vanity, can deprive it. With all his faults, both as a painter and as a man, his reputation has already survived that of many of his more successful rivals, and will probably continue to exist while ta lents and genius hold their just rank in the estimation of mankind. One of Barry's most prominent defects was to attempt carrying every thing by storm. His hasty spirit was too impetuous to wait for the slow progress of taste in a country where, according to the opinion of a connoisseur* no less amiable than accomplished, the perseverance and genius of even Raphael himself would probably have failed of obtaining encouragement. When, how ever, we consider Barry's circumstances through nearly the whole of his life, we ought not, perhaps, to censure him too severely for the impatience and irritations into which he was often betrayed, nor feel surprised at the strain of invective in which he was apt to vent his disappointed hopes. From his earliest years his notions with respect to money transactions, appear to have been singularly rigid and correct; and his high and haughty spirit must frequently have suffered severely from the pecuniary obligations to which necessity compelled him to submit. An honourable anxiety to avoid every thing of this nature, induced him to circumscribe his wants, and rather to endure the evils of poverty than forfeit his valued independence; till at length his penurious habits, which originated in distress, became natural to him after the absolute necessity for persevering in them had ceased. This appears to be the fair way of accounting for the extreme wretchedness in which he lived, and sufficiently explains the motives of his conduct, without having recourse to the uncharitable suppositions, that he wished to "exhibit himself as a martyr," and that he "mortified himself in the hope of mortifying others;" but whatever his errors or failings may have been, his continual disappointments and unhappy life have more than expiated his offences, and ought to entitle him to the commiseration of every feeling heart, for "when a great mind falls," "The noble nature of Man's gen'rous heart Doth bear him up against the shame of ruin, With gentle censure using but his faults, As modest means to introduce his praiseFor pity, like a dewy twilight, comes To close th' oppressive splendour of his day, And they who but admired him in his height, His altered state lament, and love him fall'n. Basil, by Joanna Baillie. |