Both blue and yellow become agreeable as they incline to red. Red becomes rich as it inclines to blue, brilliant as it inclines to yellow. All shades and tones of purple or orange are agreeable; but of greens, those only which incline to yellow. Blueish greens require either to be very pale, as shown in Turner's first principle (See Plate), or moderated with black, so as almost to cease to be colours, and become tones. All shades and tints of the tertiary compounds are agreeable in their places; they receive value by the opposition of the colour which enters least into their composition, and become difficult to manage only when they approach full blueish green.
White and black give value to all colours and tones.
It may be necessary to make an observation upon the foregoing warning, and almost proscription, of the use of green in Art, as that colour is found to be exceedingly agreeable in Nature, and is used with success in manufactures, and for other general purposes. It is found to afford great relief to weak sight, and is abstractedly so much admired, that it appears singular and paradoxical to say, that green must be sparingly used in pictures, even in landscapes, whose greatest charm in nature consist of luxuriance of vegetation: but such is the case. The general tone of a picture may be yellow, as in the works of Cuyp, Both, Ludovico Caracci (see Plates); red, as in the second principle of Titian (see Plate); blue, as in the first principle of Turner (see Plates); grey or brown, as in the works of Ruysdael and the Dutch School (see Plates); but a green picture, however true to nature, instantly excites an universal outcry as being disagreeable; and if any of the modern school, to which we shall presently advert, have been for a moment tolerated, it has arisen from the previous great reputation of the artist, or for other merits in the work, and in spite of its being a green picture.
The following hypothesis may be the mode of accounting for this paradox, and, at the same time, may throw some light upon another, which will be noticed; that although painting is an imitative art, imitation, to the extent of deception, does not constitute its highest excellence.
The eye is excited by Colour, and the object of painting, independent of poetical expression or character, is to excite the eye agreeably. But green is found to excite the eye less than any other tint, (thereby affording some corroboration to the idea that, strictly speaking, its opposite red, is the only true colour,) not even excepting black; so that it acts as an opiate, and is used for counteracting the brightness of the sun, by means of parasols or glasses, and to guard weak eyes from the effects of light by means of silk shades.
It is thrown out as a suggestion that, in looking at a picture in which excitement to the degree of pleasure is expected, a disappointment may arise from finding a prevalence of those tints which do not excite, except to a very slight extent, and that thus a green picture may occasion dissatisfaction. In looking at Nature we do not wish to be always excited, and green is admired or valued as affording repose; but in looking at a picture, the very object is excitement, within certain limits, which green has a tendency to destroy.
Certain tints of green become disagreeable in certain parts of pictures, from association of ideas. Green in flesh, excites the idea of corruption and decay. Green in skies, occasioned by blending the warm yellows of sunset with the blue, excite the impression of want of skill to prevent the one tint running into the other.
But in reservation it must be repeated, that there is no tint that cannot be controlled and made available, by great skill and management, to the purposes of Art. These warnings are for beginners and amateurs; and the work is intended to show them what they may do with safety; as they attain proficiency, they may attempt difficulties, which principally reside in truth of detail in combination with agreeable general effect. When to this is added a just subservience to Poetical Character, the greatest requisitions of the Art have been complied with; all other difficulties, of whatever nature, being merely a species of mountebank trickery, beneath the aim of high Art, and deserving of the well-known sarcasm of Dr. Johnson upon some difficult music, that "he wished it were impossible."
CHAPTER III.