Merrifield 1850
Mary Philadelphia Merrifield, Mural Painting in England. On Mural Painting. On the Colours used in Mural Painting, The Art Journal 12, London – New York [George Virtue] 1850, pp. 37–38, 117–188, 140–141, 186–189.
pp. 2–4
MURAL PAINTING IN ENGLAND.
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
THE impulse recently given to mural painting in this country by the commission on the fine Arts, and the frescoes with which the new Houses of Parliament are now being decorated, may be considered as having led to the revival of an old Art in which our ancestors delighted, rather than to the introduction of a new one. Although painting in buon-fresco, as it was practised by the best Italian artists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, may have been but partially known in England, yet mural painting has been practised here from an early period, and perhaps there are few nations which during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries afforded greater encouragement to the Arts than our own. It was too much the fashion in Italy to regard the oltramontani with contempt; and from certain expressions of Benvenuto Cellini we collect that the English in particular, who lived on the western boundary of Europe, almost on the confines of the habitable world, were looked upon by the Italians as barbarians; but the specimens of English mediæval Art that are now frequently brought to light from the obscurity in which they have lain so long concealed, might perhaps, if they could have been placed before him, have induced the great Florentine to have formed a better opinion of the civilisation and technical skill of our ancestors in the decorative Arts. The English, who had not the advantages of the Italians in possessing so many of the sculptured remains of antiquity, were, it must be acknowledged, far inferior to them in design; but in mechanical skill our artists of the middle ages were fully equal and in some cases superior to the Italians. In illuminating and missal painting they were at least their equals, in glass painting they surpassed them: they were acquainted with and practised a chemical process for painting and staining garments, which was communicated as a secret by a Flemish embroiderer, with whose business it may have interfered, to a French artist or amateur, (Johannes Archerius) in Italy. Enamelling, which was practised in the reigns of the first two Edwards, (Walpole says, without mentioning his authority, by Greek artists,) was, however, known to the Anglo-Saxons. In ecclesiastical architecture of a bold, original, and peculiar style, the works of the English will not suffer by a comparison with edifices of the same age in Italy, either for the grandeur of the design, or the beauty of the details. The Cathedrals of York, and Salisbury, and Westminster Abbey, were erected as early as the first half of the thirteenth century. We had sculptors of our own as well as painters and architects, and one of the former, described as Magister Guglielmus Anglicus, who flourished in the fourteenth century, was possessed of sufficient skill in his art, to obtain employment in the court of the Prince of Savoy, where he modelled a whole-length figure of the Countess of Savoy in wax. Nor should we omit to mention the excellence of the English mediæval embroidery, which as it was sometimes employed in portraying historical subjects on the robes of princes, may perhaps be included among the arts of design. That the English were not behind their Continental neighbours in their fondness for mural paintings although inferior to them in design, is evident from the specimens of mediæval Art still existing in this country, and from the instructions for executing them contained in MSS. preserved in our public libraries.
While admitting the inferiority of the English in design, we must not overlook the fact that it was the custom of the great Italian painters, and especially of the earlier ones, to visit distant places, which they decorated with their works, thus promoting the cause of Art by multiplying good examples. The Florentine, Giotto, visited Pisa, Padua, Rome, Naples, and, as some say, Avignon; Leonardo da Vinci, in the prime of life, divided his time between Florence and Milan, and died in France: and there is scarcely a painter of celebrity in Italy who was not invited to paint in the principal cities of the different states, where he not only profited by the example of his predecessors, but left specimens of his own skill for the instruction of future artists. But England had not this advantage, the country was considered so distant, and the people so barbarous, that few Italian artists of note, especially the frescanti, could be persuaded to visit it; mural painting, therefore, although generally practised in this country up to a certain period, made but little progress in attaining the higher qualities of Art, and at length was superseded by the influence of the Reformation, and the encouragement afforded to many Flemish artists who visited this country, and painted pictures on panel and canvass. These pictures had, in some respects, an advantage over mural paintings, inasmuch as they were portable, and, on that account, possessed of a certain marketable value.
Mural paintings of historical subjects were executed in this country at least as early as the reign of Henry III.; they were employed in the decoration, both of churches and of royal palaces. The paintings hitherto discovered here, belonged, with very few exceptions, to ecclesiastical edifices, and there is reason to believe that the churches of Italy were scarcely more decorated with paintings than those of England; at least, those of the southern and midland counties. Scarcely a month elapses but the necessary repairs of churches bring to light some of the old mural paintings, with which it appears that it was formerly the custom to decorate the whole of the interior, even of village churches. In the immediate neighbourhood of Brighton, the churches of the villages of Preston and Portslade are known to have been so decorated. A painting has recently been discovered beneath the whitewash in the interior of Linfield Church; and many others might be mentioned, but it is unnecessary to refer to them here, as they have already been described in the Archæological Journal and other works. I shall now confine my observations to the paintings in the churches of Sussex. In point of execution these pictures are not deserving of high praise; they consist of little more than outlines, and those not the most accurate, – drawn with a dark red earthy pigment; the draperies are sometimes relieved with yellow ochre, sometimes coloured with the same dark red pigment, and sometimes left white. But it must be remembered that these paintings occur in village churches, and there are no historical records to show that the villages to which they belong were ever of more importance than they are at the present time. The early histories of Italian Art speak only of the productions of the best masters of the period in the principal buildings of their cities; the Duomo of Orvieto, that of Siena, the church of S. Francis of Assisi, and the Campo Santo of Pisa, were decorated by the first painters of the age. In judging, therefore, of the skill of the English artists, we must not compare the fragments of their works which still remain in village churches, with the productions of Orcagna and Giotto. Perhaps, if the Italian village churches of the fourteenth century, (if any such exist) were stripped of their whitewash, they might exhibit paintings of no higher order than those which once covered the walls of our own village churches.
Many of the paintings in ecclesiastical edifices in Sussex are supposed to be of the time of Edward III.; the subjects are such as were usual at that period; a gigantic S. Christopher; a S. Sebastian, pierced with arrows; a S. Michael, with his wings of peacock’s feathers, weighing the souls of the departed, with Satan on one side waiting for his prey, and on the other the spirit of the deceased praying at the feet of the Virgin, or of some saint, for her intercession and protection. In Preston Church there is, in addition to these subjects, a painting representing the death of Thomas à Becket, in which the lengthened figures, with their small heads and large feet, remind one of those in the Bayeux tapestry. The pointed shoes of the figures may afford a clue to the date of the picture; Becket, while kneeling before the altar, is represented as wounded by the sword of one of his assailants; Brito, the last of the four knights, turns away his head as if he repented of the crime he had intended to commit: on the other side of the altar an angel stretches his arms as if to intercede for Becket. In Chichester Cathedral a painting of a higher order was discovered some years since, and preserved by the care of one of the prebends, who caused it to be covered with a glass: the subject is the Virgin and Child, with angels scattering incense: the expression of the figures is pleasing, the proportions are better observed than in the paintings at Preston, and the colouring is particularly lively and gay: red, blue, green, of the brightest hues, are set off with gilding, and the long robe of the virgin is covered with gold fleurs-de-lys. This painting also is considered to be of the age of Edward III. The victories of Edward abroad secured peace to his subjects at home, and gave them leisure to cultivate the Arts, which were disseminated in the provinces, and continued to exist in spite of the disastrous civil wars of the Red and White Roses. The tranquil priests, located in districts removed from the scene of contest, held on the even tenor of their way, and continued to fill their churches with pictures. Those in Linfield Church were probably executed during the reign of Edward IV. or Edward V. The Reformation, begun by Wickliffe, and established under Henry VIII., by condemning pictures in churches as papal superstitions, contributed not a little to the decline of mural painting in this country, and perhaps rendered us as a nation not altogether undeserving of the contempt with which Cellini was accustomed to speak of us. An expression (preserved by Sir W. Monson, in his account of the Acts of Elizabeth) of a member of the House of Commons, shows that in the time of this queen the custom of decorating public buildings no longer existed, and that some, at least, among that assembly would have been pleased to see the practice, the decay of which they attributed to the Reformation, again restored, and their churches and palaces decorated with paintings as they were wont to be in the olden time.
The durability of mural paintings in this country is sufficiently proved by the present condition of those to which I have alluded. Neither whitewash nor damp seems to have been able to destroy them; but in many cases they appear after their long concealment with their colours as bright as when first employed, and as firmly attached to the wall as if they actually formed a part of it. There are some old mural paintings in the Duomo of Parma, which, after having been long covered with whitewash, have been recently restored to light; yet their colours, with the exception of the blue, are bright and fresh. What is still more extraordinary, the operation of removing the whitewash has recovered in several places part of the surface of the old pictures, and disclosed to view others of still greater antiquity, the colours of which are equally bright and fresh, and which, from the similarity of the style appear to have been painted by the same hand as those first discovered. How desirable must it then be to ascertain in what manner these old pictures which have survived so many paintings of more recent date, were executed. It is generally believed that the mural pictures of the middle ages were painted either partly in fresco and partly in secco, in the manner described by Theophilus and Le Begue, or in tempera only. The art of painting entirely in fresco, or as it was usually called in *buon-fresco*, was introduced at a later period. Wax, which was formerly used in painting by the ancients, and by the early mediæval artists, has been considered to have fallen into disuse in Italy in the fourteenth century, but it can be traced in France by documents until the first quarter of the fifteenth century; and in Greece, as appears from the MS. of Mount Athos, published by M. Didron, until the present time. Subsequent discoveries have, however, proved that the use of wax in painting was revived in Italy, and it has been detected by chemical analysis on Italian mural paintings of the sixteenth century. The pictures by Gio. Batista Trotti, otherwise called Malosso, in the Palace del Reale Giardino, and those in the Rocca di S. Secondo at Parma, having been analysed by Sig. Belloli, at the request of Professor Viglioli, were ascertained to have been painted with wax. Too much praise cannot be given to the Italians for the zeal with which they have prosecuted these enquiries on the only sure basis – chemical analysis. It is greatly to be desired that those persons who may hereafter discover mural paintings in this country, would, if possible, subject a portion of them – and a small portion would be sufficient – to this ordeal. If this be impracticable, the discoverer can at least cause the paintings to be examined by some person conversant with the subject, and allow drawings to be made before they are destroyed. It is a common error to call, without proper examination, all mural paintings discovered in this country by the general name of frescoes; it should be ascertained whether they are so or not, and if they are not – which is most probable – then, the manner in which they really are painted, and the means taken to secure their durability, should be positively determined for the instruction of artists. As this subject is of great importance not only to the artist, but to the amateur, to whose zeal and love of Art we are generally indebted for these discoveries, we shall resume the subject in a future number of this Journal.
To return from this digression. The fine taste of Charles I. again restored for a time the love of the arts in this country, but it was stifled by the furious and indiscriminating zeal of the Puritans. Classical subjects were condemned as immoral; religious subjects as idolatrous; and even the cartoons of Raffaelle might have been irrecoverably lost to this country, but for the liberality and good sense of Oliver Cromwell, who purchased them for the nation, probably with the view of causing them to be imitated in tapestry, the purpose for which they were originally designed. Portrait painting was still suffered to exist, for the Roundheads did not object to leaving representations of themselves on canvass or panel, as a remembrance to their descendants. But these pictures were movable, and what was painted to adorn the dining-room of one generation, was banished by their tasteless descendants to the staircase or garret, in order to make room for fresh favourites.
After the Reformation, mural paintings were of course limited to the decoration of palaces. Rubens painted some ceilings at Whitehall for Charles I.; others were painted at Hampton Court and Windsor by different artists; and at a later period Sir James Thornhill painted the hall at Greenwich and the cupola of St. Paul’s. Some of the mansions of the nobility were also decorated with paintings. But these were all oil-paintings, and the deep and strongly defined shadows and highly varnished surface, rendered them, in a decorative point of view, but an indifferent substitute for fresco paintings, which from the absence of all gloss, and their peculiar lightness of effect, could be seen conveniently in every light.
We have no accounts of frescoes executed in England until the middle of the last century, when Guiseppe Borgnis, a Milanese artist, decorated with frescoes the interior of the porticos and south colonnade of West Wycombe Park, the seat of Lord le Despenser. The greater part of these paintings are yet in good preservation, a proof among others still existing, that the action of the air is not necessarily destructive of fresco paintings. In the present age of archæological research, it is by no means impossible that frescoes by English artists of the seventeenth century may yet be discovered in this country. That the English actually painted in this style may be inferred from the directions for fresco painting contained in a MS. written by John Martin in 1699, which is now in the Soane Museum. These directions are written apparently by a person conversant with the practice of the art, and as none of the technical terms are borrowed from a foreign language, and there are some few points in these instructions which do not correspond exactly with the practice of the Italian or Spanish masters, there is reason to suppose that the English painters occasionally practised this art. Since the commencement of the present century, successful attempts have been made at different times to restore the art of fresco painting in this country; and recently the example of the German school of fresco painters, and the encouragement afforded by the commission of the Fine Arts, have given it an additional stimulus. We earnestly hope that the time will soon come when the best painters of this country, following in the path so successfully trodden by Messrs. Dyce, Maclise, Cope, Herbert and others, will devote their best energies to the attainment of this most noble art. The interest taken by the public in the frescoes by our native artists in the Houses of Parliament, already great, is daily increasing, and we may venture to anticipate that before long the removal of the scaffolding which conceals the newly-painted pictures from the ardent gaze of the spectator, will be desired with as much eagerness as it was in Rome when the “Last Judgment” of Michael Angelo was about to be exhibited for the first time to the expectant and admiring crowd.
pp. 37–38
ON MURAL PAINTING.
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
IN the last number of this Journal, I alluded to the importance of ascertaining, as far as it is possible to do so, the manner in which mural pictures were formerly executed; for the mechanical processes which, for upwards of three hundred years have withstood the ravages of time and the vicissitudes of the seasons, must assuredly be deserving of our consideration, if not of our imitation. The question of the durability of mural paintings appears to be satisfactorily settled. It is ascertained to depend, not upon climate, but upon the goodness of the materials employed, the perfection of the processes adopted, and their skilful adaptation to the peculiar localities where they are intended to be introduced. These are points of the utmost importance to the painter; for upon them, whatever may be his merits in the higher qualifications of Art, must ultimately rest his hopes of transmitting his name to posterity. The mighty genius of Leonardo da Vinci could not preserve his admirable Cenacolo from the decay which resulted from the imperfections of the ground on which he worked, and the perishable nature of the materials he employed; while the fresco of Montorfano, painted in 1495, on the opposite end of the Refectory, exists in an almost perfect state, and is a convincing proof of the excellence of the technical processes of the artist.
Much information of a practical kind may be obtained from an examination of the present state of mural paintings; I shall, however, take another opportunity of returning to this subject. On the present occasion I propose to make a few observations on the various methods of mural painting practised at different periods in Italy – so far, at least, as we are at present acquainted with them; and to offer a few suggestions as to the adoption of some of these technical processes and modes of decoration in this country.
The anonymous author of the “Notizia d’opere di disegno nella prima metà del Secolo XVI. esistenti in Padova, Cremona, Milano, &c,” speaking of the old fresco paintings (as he called them) in the Cortile of the Archbishop’s palace at Milan, the Castle of Pavia, and elsewhere, states that they “shone like mirrors,” and he adds “even now one can see oneself in them.” The old paintings in the Castle of Pavia, to which he alludes, may have perished, but those at Milan are yet in existence, and the glassy surface they still present, after a lapse of upwards of three centuries, attests the truth and accuracy of the writer’s observation. The very fact, however, of his making the observation, proves that the writer was a stranger in that part of Lombardy, for the glassy surface is not peculiar to these pictures, but it may be seen on the mural paintings of Ambruogio Borgognone, Luini, Gaudenzio Ferrari, and others of the Milanese school: it may also be seen on parts of the old paintings by Avanzi and Aldighieri in the chapel of S. Felice, in the church of S. Antonio at Padua, and also in the old part (for the paintings have been restored) of the mural pictures in the Scuola of S. Antonio, and the small church of S. Giorgio, at Padua. In the Cortile of the Archiginnasio, at Bologna, is a portrait of Carlo Borromeo, painted by Bernardino Luini. It has been sawn from the wall and removed to the situation it now occupies; this painting has the same glassy surface, which neither age nor accident seems capable of destroying: it differs in this respect from the frescoes of the Bolognese school which surround it on all sides, and which, as far as my observation extends, have not the polished surface. The glassy surface may also be traced on the mural-paintings by Lattanzio Gambara, a pupil of Antonio Campi, of Cremona; and the interesting portraits of Correggio and Parmegiano, painted by Gambara between 1568 and 1573, just within the principal door (on the left hand as you enter), of the Duomo of Parma, perhaps owe their preservation to this circumstance. The outline of these pictures is indented with the style, a proof that they were certainly begun in fresco.
That this peculiar polish was not confined to paintings in interiors, is proved by the old mural picture on the south face of the wall which encircles the town of Bassano, which, in spite of exposure to the air, still exhibits a glassy lustre where the surface has not been broken up and destroyed by the hand of man.
I am not aware whether this glassy surface is to be found on mural paintings in other parts of Italy; the observation of the anonymous writer would lead us to infer that it was not: neither Cennini nor Vasari allude to it, whence it may be concluded that it is not general, if, indeed, it existed at all, in Tuscany; Armenini also, who travelled through Italy for nine years, studying painting, and obtaining information from the best masters, is silent upon the subject. It is, however, certain that the custom of polishing mural paintings was common, if not general, in the Milanese, and that it existed in the Venetian territories as late as the early part of the sixteenth century: as the glassy surface is not seen on the frescoes of Correggio, at Parma, it may be concluded that it was not generally adopted in the Parmesan at the time Lattanzio Gambara was painting at Parma. Early frescoes and mural-paintings have, however, a smooth surface and a fine intonaco, while those executed at a later period are rough and granular, as if the intonaco were composed of very coarse sand.
The Diana of Correggio, in the Convent of S. Paolo, at Parma, has a smooth but not a glassy surface, and an indented outline. The modern frescoes of Appiani, at Milan, and those of Paoletti and Damin, at Padua, are rough and granular. A shining surface is generally considered a disadvantage to mural decorations, but it is to be observed that the glassy polish of the old pictures, to which I have alluded, does not reflect light like varnish, or prevent their being viewed conveniently from all points; and where paintings are exposed to dust and smoke, as they will certainly be in this country, some degree of polish may be a great advantage to them, by preventing the accumulation of dust, and by permitting them to be wiped or washed without injury. Vitruvius informs us that the ancients were so well aware of the injury arising from smoke and dust, that they were accustomed to polish the walls of the winter apartments, which were exposed to damage from this cause, while those appropriated to summer use were adorned with ornaments in relief and paintings.
Among the ancients, a plain white surface was probably polished by friction, but vermilion was protected from the action of the air by a coat of punic wax liquefied with oil. Leon Batista Alberti suggests the addition of other ingredients to the oil and wax. After describing the mode of preparing the intonaco and of applying it, he says—”It must be smoothed and made even with smoothing boards, floats, and other things of that kind, while yet soft. If the last coat of pure white be well rubbed, it will shine like a looking-glass; and if when the same is nearly dry, you anoint it with wax and mastic, liquefied with a very small quantity of oil, and then heat the wall, so anointed, with a chafing-dish of lighted charcoal, it will surpass marble in whiteness. I have found by experience that such intonachi never cracked, if in making them, the moment the little cracks begin to appear, they are rubbed down with bundles of twigs of the marsh-mallow, or of wild broom. But if, on any occasion, you have to apply an intonaco in the dog-days, or in very hot places, pound and cut up very finely, some old rope, and mix it with the intonaco. Besides this, it will be very delicately polished if you throw on it a little white soap dissolved in tepid water.”
It will be observed, that Alberti directs the wax and mastic to be applied before the intonaco is quite dry, so that they may combine intimately with the intonaco, and thus be more firmly united. There appears, however, no reason why this polish should not be applied upon a dry surface, to which it will adhere, especially after the application of the cauterium, which will probably cause the wax and mastic to penetrate to a certain depth the material on which it is applied. The addition of white soap cannot be recommended, as it contains a salt, which must be always injurious to paintings. The general resemblance of the whole composition to the “eau composite,” which Le Begue mentions (Ancient Practice of Painting, p. 307), as a vehicle for all kinds of colours, will not escape the notice of the reader. The difference lies in the substitution of water in the latter recipe for the oil recommended by Alberti. Mastic mixed with wax is the composition with which Agnolo Gaddi repaired the old mosaics in the Church of S. Giovanni at Florence. Vasari tells us how successfully it was employed, and that no further reparation had at any time been necessary. A mixture of wax with white curd soap and water, applied to the surface of a plaster cast, and afterwards polished with a soft cloth, although it does not exactly give the plaster the appearance of marble, adds greatly to its beauty. There seems little doubt that the use of wax in the arts was more general, and that it continued to be employed down to a much later period than is commonly believed.
Mr. Wilson, in his very interesting Report on Fresco Painting, mentions having been informed by Signor Marini, a distinguished fresco painter, that in cleaning some of the frescoes by Ridolfo Ghirlandaio at Florence, he observed that they had been glazed with something “unctuous.” Might not the glazing of which he speaks have been the polish recommended by Alberti?
It appears to me, that this polish is calculated to be extremely useful in mural decoration of all kinds, since it may be applied upon all surfaces, and will afford an effectual and durable protection from the injuries arising from smoke and dust. If it be liquefied in a fixed oil, it will be more durable than if an essential oil be used, but at the same time not so pale in colour; and although a little mastic will be a decided improvement, the smaller the proportion that is employed, the more likely will the polish be to preserve its colour and firmness. Mastic, how pale soever it may be at first, in process of time acquires the yellow hue of the dry resin, while wax, on the contrary, bleaches by exposure to the air. Paintings in distemper may, by this application, be rendered as durable as fresco, perhaps more so, for tempera paintings of the fifteenth century with a polished surface are found in as good a state of preservation as fresco-paintings of a much later date without it. It is true that the actual composition of the polish on the mural paintings of Lombardy is unknown. It cannot be the result of friction, for that would efface the finer touches of the painting, and the marks of the brush are visible in many early pictures which have the glassy surface. The preservation of the whites and other delicate colours, proves that it cannot be attributed to a coat of fixed oil, or of oleo-resinous varnish; and the solid and uniform surface of the paintings, which is never defaced by cracks, as well as the date of some of the pictures, which is anterior to the introduction of spirit or essential oil varnishes, may be considered evidence that the latter have not been used.
The practice of painting in buon-fresco is attended with acknowledged technical difficulties, and the great skill and facility of execution which such paintings require, the inability of working on them at all times of the year, and the uncertainty of employment which at present exists, may, to a certain extent, and in spite of its manifest advantages, prevent the practice of this branch of the art from becoming so general as could be wished. But painting in distemper is not attended with the difficulties and inconveniences incident to fresco-painting; it may be employed on a small scale; it may be altered at pleasure; and it can be executed at any time of the year. It has, it is true, the disadvantages of drying inconveniently fast, and of the colours being liable to be disturbed by water. The former defect may be remedied by adding honey to the size used in painting; the latter by applying wax to the surface, either alone or with mastic, as recommended by Alberti; or where a resinous varnish is not objected to, the painting may be varnished in the usual manner. Painting in distemper is taught in the Schools of Design, and under the instruction of these most useful institutions, a class of artists is now rising, whose skill and taste will, we trust, be exercised in the decoration not only of our public buildings and the mansions of the nobility, but of the private habitations of the middle classes. It is the custom in Italy to decorate the white walls and ceilings of the apartments of country hotels with arabesques of various colours, the rooms are in consequence always clean and light, and if the surface were smooth and polished, instead of being rough and granular, this simple and inexpensive kind of embellishment would last for ages. The advantages of a decoration of this kind will be appreciated in this country, where the smoke and dirt soil the full-coloured paper-hangings, and so, diminish considerably the brief and subdued light of the days in winter. The fashion of adorning the mansions of private gentlemen with elaborate and rich arabesques in the Italian fashion, has already been introduced into this country by Sir Robert Peel, to whose liberal and enlightened patronage and encouragement the Fine Arts in this country are so deeply indebted. The staircase in the house of Sir Robert, in Whitehall Gardens, has been painted by Mr. Gruner with great taste and ability, and we hope that ere long this mode of decoration will entirely supersede those which have been hitherto in use, in all cases where fresco or fresco-secco is not admissible, and where cabinet paintings are not intended to be introduced. Decorations of this kind cannot fail to be of the greatest advantage to art in this country by furnishing to the young artists educated in the Schools of Design an employment, which, while it affords scope for the development of their taste and ability, will yield them an honourable and lucrative means of subsistence.
Our knowledge of the different methods in which mural paintings were formerly executed is as yet extremely limited. Much has been done towards discovering the methods of painting formerly in use; much still remains to do. In oil painting we find a diversity of grounds, a diversity of vehicles, and a diversity in the method of working. A similar diversity seems to exist with regard to mural paintings, which, some years ago, were classed, in this country at least, under the general name of fresco-paintings, unless they were known to have been actually painted in oil. Increased acquaintance with works of art, together with the diffusion of Art-Literature, has supplied us with better information on this subject. It is now well known that the art of painting in buon-fresco without re-touching in secco, is not of early date, and that it arose out of the earlier methods to which it was deemed superior; for the old painters did not possess sufficient skill and facility of execution to enable them to complete their pictures while the wall remained damp, and they were forced to finish them in secco. It is generally considered that there does not exist any picture in buon-fresco which was executed previously to the revival of the art by the Carracci. This opinion, however, can scarcely be correct. The terms in which Vasari (whose work was completed in 1547, eight years before the birth of Ludovico Carracci), speaks of this Art, show the importance attached in his time to the completion of frescoes without re-touching in distemper. Not only does he deprecate this practice in his Introduction, but he takes occasion to allude to it in various parts of his “Lives of the Painters,” and always with disapprobation; and he never omits to praise those artists who painted entirely in buon-fresco. The instances of the latter are however rare, and it is impossible to arrive at any other conclusion from the perusal of Vasari’s work, than that the practice of beginning pictures in fresco, and finishing them in distemper, (that is to say, with colours mixed with size), was general previous to the time of the biographer, and so common at the period when he wrote, that painting in buon-fresco might be considered as the exception, and not the rule of the contemporaries and predecessors of Vasari. Indeed, the practice of retouching seems to have been so general, as to have been resorted to sometimes unnecessarily, or, to speak more correctly, the picture was painted throughout with the common colours used in fresco, and then the more brilliant colours, and, in some cases, gilding, were afterwards touched upon these. As instances of this may be mentioned the “Last Judgment,” by Michael Angelo, which was exhibited by order of Pope Paul III., before Michael Angelo had added certain retouchings in secco which he contemplated, and which the painting never afterwards received; and also the fresco by Franciabigio, in the S. S. Annunziata at Florence, which was exhibited in a similar manner, without the knowledge of the artist.*
*Michael Angelo appears to have submitted quietly to the impatience of the Pope; Franciabigio, on the contrary, was violently irritated at the liberty taken by the monks in exhibiting his picture without his consent. Vasari’s account of his anger is interesting in a historical point of view, because it shows that at the period when this event occurred the Inquisition had not attained in Italy that terrible power by which it was so fearfully distinguished in Spain. The contrast between the fate of Franciabigio and that of the sculptor Torrigiano is no less striking than instructive. The offence of both artists was the same. Franciabigio vented his anger at the liberty taken by the monks, by defacing some of the principal figures, especially the representation of the Virgin, breaking up the surface with a mason’s mallet; the monks, apparently more alarmed at the probable destruction of the picture than shocked at the insult offered to the Virgin, sought to restrain his violence by simply holding his hands, and offering him double payment to restore his works. Franciabigio turned a deaf ear to their solicitations, and the picture remained as he left it; and, according to Vasari, either from reverence of the work or of the artist, no other painter could be induced to complete it. The fate of poor Torrigiano was more melancholy. His disappointment at receiving in payment for his beautiful statue of the “Virgin and Child” the paltry sum of thirty ducats, paid in the small brass coin called maravedi, (which, to make them appear of more importance, were brought to him in two sacks), was so great, that, forgetting the sacred character of the image, he broke it suddenly to pieces. As the consequence of his sacrilege, he was thrown into the prisons of the Inquisition, and condemned to torture and death. But his cruel persecutors were foiled – he expired under the horrors of his impending execution.
In spite of its technical difficulties, fresco-painting was sometimes practised by women. There is an external fresco, protected however by an arcade, in the Cortile of the Archiginnasio at Bologna, painted by Teresa Moneta Muratori. The picture is in good preservation, and the execution evinces considerable skill; but as the lady was assisted by some painter, it is not easy to decide how much of the work was really her own.
The earlier paintings were begun in fresco and finished in distemper, which was sometimes used sparingly in retouching and finishing, and at others was employed so extensively that the pictures were half tempera-paintings. Sometimes they were begun and finished entirely in distemper, and not unfrequently the draperies were finished with oil, but there appears to be no well authenticated instance of the painting of flesh entirely with oil, on walls or otherwise, in the fourteenth century; at a later period mural-paintings were sometimes painted entirely in oil. We have written descriptions of all these processes by different authors, but there is in mural-paintings such a similarity of appearance, that a close examination is frequently insufficient to determine in what manner certain pictures were painted. And where no direct documentary evidence exists of the way in which they were painted, it is only when they have been obliged to undergo the dangerous process of cleaning and restoring, or when some parts have been submitted to chemical analysis, that the mode in which they were executed has been ascertained. In addition to the different processes alluded to above, recent investigations have shown that wax was, at least occasionally, employed, not only at a very early period, but in the sixteenth century. Whether it was so used in pursuance of the traditional practices which have descended to us, or whether by way of experiment, is unknown. The Italian artist who has recorded the result of the analysis of the pictures by Trotti (Malosso) at Parma, has neglected to inform us whether the wax which was discovered in them was dissolved in fixed oil, in an essential oil, or in an alkaline solution, or whether it was combined with a resin. These are points which it is important to ascertain. It is also uncertain whether the wax was used in the painting, or whether it was applied to the surface of the picture when finished, and then melted into and incorporated with it, by the application of heat. This last question must probably remain undecided. Chemists have declared that it is impossible to distinguish, after a lapse of years, whether oil had been actually mixed with the colours in painting, or whether the picture, when finished, had been saturated with oil; and this will probably be the case with wax, for this substance, when assisted by heat, will even penetrate marble to the depth of the sixteenth part of an inch.
Fresco-secco has been practised from a very early period in Italy; its durability is unquestionable; the facility of employing various colours which are inadmissible in fresco, is a decided advantage, but it is inferior to fresco-painting, inasmuch as it cannot be washed, at least without the application of a protecting varnish. Some of the beautiful pictures by Luini in the Monastero Maggiore at Milan, were formerly considered as frescoes, but they are now stated on good authority to have been painted “in the ancient manner on white stucco.” The art of painting in buon-fresco is undoubtedly more difficult of attainment, as it requires greater skill and power in the artist; but the method of Luini, whatever it was, is so beautiful, and it is so well adapted not only for paintings on a large scale, but for smaller works which are intended to be viewed closely, such as the decorations of private dwellings, that if it could be ascertained, it might be revived with great advantage. The process adopted by Luini was probably not peculiar to himself. The stucco, for instance, may have been derived partly at least from the ancients, whose methods were preserved by Vitruvius, and the painting executed in the manner usual in Lombardy at that period, the lakes and finishing touches being added before the final polishing of the surface. The last process may have been conducted in the manner recommended by Alberti.*
* To be continued.
pp. 117–118
ON MURAL PAINTING. *
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
I MENTIONED in a preceding number of this Journal, that several kinds of mural painting were practised in Italy, with some of which we are well acquainted, while others are, as yet, only partially known and described. I proceed now to offer some further observations on the present state of some of the mural paintings of northern Italy, in order to assist those interested in the subject, and who may not have the opportunity of making personal observations, in determining what situations should be chosen, what processes should be adopted, and what colours should be used, so as to ensure the beauty and durability of mural paintings.
* (Continued from page 38.)
It is easy to perceive that the worst enemies with which this kind of painting has to contend, are damp, and the careless preparation of the wall. The action of damp on mural paintings is insidious; it frequently operates unseen, until the injury has gone too far to be arrested by the skill of man, and perhaps the first indication of its existence is the commencement of decay in the picture. A knowledge of the way in which damp operates on buildings, and of the means of preventing injuries to paintings from this cause, involves a practical acquaintance with architecture, and especially with the chemistry of architecture—for this science, like painting and agriculture, has also its chemistry. I shall not venture to make any remarks on this subject; I will merely observe, that among those to whom, in all questions connected with Art, we always look for examples, the old Italian painters, the Arts of painting and architecture were frequently united in the same person; and indeed, when these artists were so generally called upon to decorate churches and other public buildings, a knowledge of architecture was essential to the production of a harmonious effect. It would be easy to multiply instances of painters who were celebrated for their skill in architecture, but it will be sufficient to refer to Giotto among the earlier masters, and to Michael Angelo and Raffaelle among the cinquecentisti. Among the architects who were also painters may be mentioned Leon Batista Alberti, Bramante, and Sansovino.
The visible effects of damp on pictures are, however, sometimes so obvious, that many useful lessons may be learned from studying the present appearance of mural paintings, without possessing a deep knowledge of the primary causes of their decay. I will mention a few observations which occurred to me on this subject, first premising that in some cases damp causes the plastering to fall off, while in others it destroys the colours. Generally speaking, the intonaco adheres firmly to the walls, in the frescoes at Milan, Novara, Bergamo, and Brescia, but the damp, ascending from the earth, and beginning at the lower part of the pictures sometimes consumes the colour. The frescoes on ceilings are frequently in a better state of preservation than those on the external walls of buildings. In ceiling frescoes those parts always fade first, where the roof joins the side walls, and although the progress of damp may be prevented by the application of some hydrofuge, it would be a safe plan not to begin a fresco-painting within four or five feet from the place where the walls unite, and along which the pipes for carrying off the rain-water are carried. The interval might be filled with arabesques en grisaille† to suit the general design, and as these arabesques would be independent of the picture, they might be executed in tempera, or encaustic, and any damage they might receive from damp or other causes, could be repaired without touching the fresco-painting.
† That is, in black and white. Sometimes browns of different shades were used instead of black.
The frescoes by Bagnadore and Rossi, on the ceiling and upper part of the semi-cupola of Sta. Afra, at Brescia, are in good preservation, while those on the lower part of the cupola and on the walls have suffered from damp. The same may be observed of the frescoes by Calisto da Lodi, Il Moretto, the Campi, Appiani, and others, on the walls of the Church of Sta. Maria presso S. Celso at Milan, which are nearly obliterated by damp; while those on the cupola painted by Appiani in 1795 are as fresh as if just painted. It is reported that this artist had a secret process for painting both in oil and in fresco, but the preservation of the paintings in this cupola is undoubtedly to be ascribed to the precautions taken by him to secure his work against damp, by covering the inside of the dome with a hydrofuge consisting of pitch and sand, to which the intonaco afterwards applied, adhered firmly. In some cases, as I have before observed, the intonaco and plaster bulges, and scales from the walls. This will probably be the fate of a fine fresco, now preserved under a glass case, in the Church of S. Lorenzo at Milan; a portion of the plaster in the centre of the picture has bulged, and a crack has formed along the middle of it; unless this can be laid flat and again attached to the wall, the destruction of a considerable and important part of the painting will be the result. The successful operation of repairing the frescoes by the Carracci in the Farnese Gallery and others by Raffaelle by means of metal clamps or nails, may perhaps be repeated in the case of this picture with advantage. It is certain that the application of any cement which retains moisture, will add to the danger; even plastering the wall behind a fresco at Milan which showed symptoms of decay from damp, accelerated the evil it was intended to guard against, and the moisture from the fresh mortar, penetrating through the walls to the picture, destroyed it. This is not a solitary instance; Mr. Wilson mentions in his report on fresco-painting, a similar case of the destruction of a fresco, solely from plastering the back of the brick wall on which it was painted.
In some cases the decay of frescoes may be attributed to the presence of salts in the colours. We are told by Vasari that this happened to certain pictures by Buffalmacco, who, in order to paint the flesh with greater facility, was accustomed to spread over the whole surface a coat of “morello di sale” which caused the formation of salts that consumed the white and other colours. The use of a pigment of this nature, may have occasioned the partial destruction of one of the paintings in the Monastero Maggiore before-mentioned. The picture is situated in a corner of the building, and while the draperies and accessories are perfect, the flesh-colour has completely disappeared, leaving the bare mortar visible on the spaces formerly covered by the flesh, the form only of which remains. Had damp alone been the cause of this injury, its effects would have been more equally distributed, instead of being confined to the flesh. The appearance of the picture in the state described was singular, and it is the only instance of the kind which met my observation. It will convey a useful lesson as to the extreme importance of attending to the purification of the colours.
Vasari informs us, that in his time precautions were sometimes taken to secure the walls on which frescoes were intended to be painted, from the effects of damp; had this been always the case, we should not now have to regret the loss of so many valuable pictures. The firmness with which early mural paintings adhere to the wall cannot escape observation; it is a most satisfactory evidence of the goodness and durability of the old technical processes. The instances are, of course, rare that enable one to learn much respecting the intonaco on which mural pictures are executed, from a mere inspection of the surface; such opportunities do, however, occasionally occur, and the first remark which suggests itself on such occasions is the difference in the thickness of the intonaco in early pictures as compared with those of a later date. In the former the intonaco is frequently extremely thin. There is a picture in the Cathedral of Chambéry which bears the date “September, 1490,” in Lombard characters. It is painted on a very thin intonaco or ground spread upon the stone wall, which is visible in a few places where the ground has scaled off. The wall has been marked with the chisel to give the intonaco a proper hold. The extreme rapidity with which this ground must have dried, as well as the colours used in the painting, apparently [Strana 118] precludes the supposition of its having been painted entirely in fresco. The painting is older in style than might be anticipated from the date, and is a proof that there was, at the period when this picture was painted, little communication between the schools of painting in the mountainous districts of Savoy, and the Milanese school over which Leonardo da Vinci was then presiding. The background of the picture had probably been blue, but is now a blackish green. The head-dress of the Virgin is vermilion, and around the picture is an arabesque border also of vermilion, shaded with the usual dark-red colour. The former colour, as well as the white, is very bright, the paint is laid on in such body as to show the marks of the brush, and the shadows are softened, not hatched. The picture has a polished or glazed surface, and as the marks of the brush are visible, this polish must have been produced by the application of some substance of an unctuous nature on the surface, and not by friction. The purity and brightness of the white paint preclude the idea of an oleo resinous varnish having been used.
Another example of a thin intonaco may be seen on one of the mural paintings of a later date, in the Church of Sta. Maria delle Grazie, at Milan. The intonaco, and indeed the colours also in this picture are so thin, that the shape and colour of the bricks are seen through them.
It was frequently the custom of the earlier painters to execute in relief certain parts of the picture, such as the glories of saints, crowns, and similar ornaments, in metal. Montorfano has done this in the large fresco before-mentioned in the Refectory of the Convent of Sta. Maria delle Grazie. These ornaments in relief, which were frequently gilded, were adopted occasionally even so late as the time of Gaudenzio Ferrari, by whom they were occasionally used. An example of these relievi occurs in one of the frescoes by this artist in the Gallery of Brera.
A close examination of the mural paintings of different periods in Upper Italy, makes us aware that a material change took place, probably towards the latter part of the XVIth century, not only as regards the state of the surface, but the handling also. In early mural paintings, such as those by Giovenone, Ambruogio Borgognone, Avanzi, and others, the shades are softened, and the hatchings are not so apparent as in those by later masters. In the frescoes of Luini and Gaudenzio Ferrari, the flesh-colour has been first painted, and then the dark shades have been hatched upon it, these paintings have, moreover, a smooth and shining surface; in some of the modern Italian frescoes, on the contrary, the shadows are painted first, and the flesh-colour hatched above them; the surface of these pictures is rough and granular, and does not shine. The hatchings in the frescoes by the Carracci in the Palazzo Fava at Bologna, although at least twelve feet from the ground, are distinctly visible, and from this cause the paintings appear unfinished and sketchy.
We grave inhabitants of the cold North can scarcely realise the effect of the façades of houses in a whole street being adorned with frescoes glowing with the liveliest colours; yet we know that this was not unusual in Italy, and the remains, among many others, of the paintings by the Campi in one of the streets of Cremona, and those by Lattanzio Gambara on the façades of many houses in Brescia, still exist, and bear witness of the fact. These touching mementos of former prosperity, dear to the moralist as the painter, recal to the mind the palmy days of Italy, when her merchants were princes, and the streets of her cities were thronged with gay cavaliers and noble ladies clad in the rich and picturesque costume of the cinque-cento.
Of the numerous frescoes painted at different periods in Italy on walls exposed to the air, the greater part are in a ruinous condition; some are entirely obliterated, while of others there remain only a few patches of colour, which appear bright and lively when compared with the bare walls which surround them. These colours are chiefly of the warm kind, yellows and reds; the cooler colours, such as blue and green, having frequently disappeared; occasionally, however, even the blues and greens also are preserved, but the design is often so nearly effaced as to be scarcely distinguishable. This is the case with many of the external frescoes by Lattanzio Gambara at Brescia; some however are nearly perfect. The prevailing colours are warm yellows and reds, with little blue, the last named colour is in one instance well preserved. The surface of these frescoes is uneven, and the dust, lodging on them, conceals great part from sight. Injudicious attempts have been made to clean and restore some of these paintings, and the consequence is, that they are in a worse state than before; the restorations have, therefore, been discontinued.
On the south wall of the town of Bassano, not far from the yard of the Albergo della Luna, and on the south side of the wall (which is built of brick) are the remains of two external paintings in fresco. The figures are not quite so large as life; the one on the right hand, the whole of the head and face of which has been destroyed by violence, appears, from the drapery and accessories, to represent a bishop. The intonaco, which is very thin, is damaged on the lower parts of the pictures, but the part left adheres firmly to the wall. The surface of the fresco is smooth and shining like glass, and as far as my recollection serves me, the colours are blended without hatchings. The colours – a fine red earth, a copper-green, and a mixed colour formed by the addition of yellow to the green – are extremely bright and vivid; and as these colours must have been exposed to the noon-day sun for a very long period, it is a sufficient proof that they do not fade by exposure to light, and that if the intonaco can be made durable, the picture will last. It appears to be established beyond a doubt, that the fading of the colours in fresco-painting, where the proper colours are used, is to be attributed entirely to the action of damp and defective intonachi.
Compared with Verona and other cities of the north of Italy, frescoes enjoy but a brief existence at Venice. The external frescoes, by Tintoretto, on the façade of the Casa Marcello a San Trovaso, mentioned by Boschini, are nearly obliterated; the figure of Cybele, and the wheels of her chariot, are just visible. Casa Marcello is now called Cà Tofete. The side of this palazzo is distant about twenty feet from that of the Palazzo Bolani, and on the side of the latter, facing the Cà Tofete, and about ten or twelve feet (as it appears to me) from the ground, is an architectural painting in the manner of Paolo Veronese; I mean as to the style of the architecture. This fresco is quite fresh and perfect, but the blue of the sky is rather heavy, and the painting is quite different in character from those on the Cà Tofete, and yet tradition ascribes this also to Tintoretto: it is supposed, however, by those who are better informed, to have been painted about the end of the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century. Had it existed in Boschini’s time (1674) he would undoubtedly have mentioned it as well as the other frescoes at Venice.
On the exterior of a palace near the Cà d’Oro, (so called from the gilding with which it was formerly decorated, which is still visible in parts) on the Canal Grande, in the same city, are the remains of a fresco by Visentini, which must have faced nearly west; the colours which are chiefly red, yellow, and green, are extremely vivid, but the surface of the fresco is so much injured that it is difficult to trace with the eye the forms of the figures; a female figure is still, however, tolerably perfect.
Some few external frescoes are at the present time in such a perfect state as to make one desire to penetrate the secret of their preservation: some of the best preserved of these paintings are sheltered either by a loggia or by a projecting roof; but this is not always the case, and the frescoes by Campagnola, over the principal door of the Church of S. Antonio, and elsewhere at Padua, are instances of frescoes having received no injury from long exposure to the air without any protection of this kind. The great technical defect of these pictures by Campagnola is that the blues have acquired a heavy indigo colour, but this defect is by no means peculiar to paintings in the open air.
Generally speaking, external frescoes at Bologna, when protected by a portico or loggia, are well preserved; blue is, as usual, the colour least durable, although, in many cases, this stands well. I thought I could distinguish by the difference in the colour, that in some frescoes smaltino had been used instead of the usual blue; the former has always somewhat of a red tint; the latter is of a purer blue, or inclines slightly to green; but in the frescoes under the arcades of S. Francisco (now the post-office), painted by the scholars of the Carracci, the usual blue pigment has been used, and the deepest shades of blue are not darker than sky-blue, or the pigment called “Biadetto,” or “Turchino,” except in one instance, namely, the sash of the mad woman, who is springing over a chair placed upon a table (an exquisite picture, full of life and nature), where the colour is deeper and brighter, and resembles ultramarine. In one of these frescoes is a boy in a recumbent posture dressed entirely in blue; in this instance the colour has remained, but the shades have fled, and the blue is of one uniform tint.
These frescoes are by various masters, and the different styles of painting are distinguishable as you walk along under them, as well in the design as in the costume and colouring: the figures in many of the paintings are as large as life; in others they are small, a variation in size which does not add to the effect, the eye being unprepared for the change. The tone of colouring is light and aerial, and harmonises with the blue (of the same depth as Turchino in the darkest parts), the pure colours being used as darks, and relief being produced by the addition of white, not of dark pigments, and thus is secured that lightness of effect which characterises the best frescoes. Generally speaking, the intonaco is even, but in some of these paintings the surface is undulating, and on these the dust has lodged so as greatly to obscure the picture. The outline of all has been marked out on the wet intonaco (as we see by the smooth line) with a large nail or other tool, and in many cases this has been done with so heavy a hand that the dust has lodged in the deep indentation, and the figures appear to be outlined with white chalk. This defect is particularly apparent in the figure of a man in the foreground of one fresco, where the strongly developed muscles have a hard white outline.
The colours used, appear to have been earths, except the blue, and one yellow drapery, which is extremely vivid and out of harmony with the rest, and which is too bright to have been ochre.
These frescoes are painted on the upper part of the arcades, so that it is impossible for the rain to touch them. Their present appearance, and that of the other frescoes to which I have alluded, are a confirmation of what I have before remarked, namely, that there is no doubt of the permanence of the earthy colours in fresco; the difficulty consists in preparing an intonaco which shall be proof against the injuries arising from damp.*
* To be continued.
pp. 140–141
ON MURAL PAINTING. *
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
IT is rare at the present time to meet with perfect external frescoes which have withstood the vicissitudes of the seasons for two or three hundred years; this is by no means the case with regard to mural paintings in interiors, many of which are still as perfect as when first painted. As examples we may refer to the works of Bernardino Luini and Gaudenzio Ferrari, the best frescanti of the Milanese school. The oil-paintings of Luini are so beautiful and so fully imbued with the spirit of Lionardo da Vinci, that some of them have been mistaken for the genuine works of that artist. But the frescoes of Luini are considered to be superior to his oil-paintings; the latter are known and appreciated in this country, but his mural paintings are necessarily confined to Italy. The beauty and grace of the female figures in his pictures are remarkable. The sweet but melancholy expression which prevails in his oil-paintings is quite Lionardesque, but there is a variety in the character of the heads in his frescoes which is truly charming; I know no artist who would have been more capable of delineating the beautiful and truly feminine characters of Shakspeare than Bernardino Luini. A Miranda, a Desdemona, or a Cordelia, by the hand of Luini would be invaluable. The exquisitely beautiful fresco, representing Angels bearing the Body of St. Catherine to Mount Sinai, will not be soon forgotten by those who have had the good fortune to see it. The state of preservation of his pictures generally is no less remarkable than the excellence of the painting, and the force and harmony of the colours.
* (Continued from page 118.)
Gaudenzio Ferrari enjoyed a high reputation in his native country in the time of Lomazzo, who never loses an opportunity of extolling his merits. Like Luini, his frescoes are superior to his oil-paintings. He was of the old Milanese school – a pupil of Giovenone; and although he possessed great originality, the influence of Lionardo may be traced in his earlier paintings, and that of Raffaelle (with whom he worked at Rome), in those of a later period.
The interior of the Church of St. Maurizio (called also the Monastero Maggiore), at Milan is entirely filled with mural paintings by Luini and Gaudenzio Ferrari, which must have been exquisite when fresh; even now they are extremely beautiful, and the general effect from the whole of the interior, the galleries, and the roof being covered with frescoes, is magnificent. The church is built of brick, the surface of many of the frescoes is not flat, but undulating, and the dust lodges on the top. The lower parts of all frescoes are the parts most frequently spoiled by damp. The intonaco adheres closely to the wall. The outlines of Luini’s frescoes are indented with the style. The greens are generally well preserved; they appear to have been prepared from copper. There are some soft and beautiful greys, for they can scarcely be called blues, in the lower pictures by Luini; but the blue in the paintings over the arches in the gallery, each consisting of a three-quarter figure of a female saint with a blue background is of a fine colour. The latter were situated so high, that it was impossible to distinguish whether these blues were in fresco or secco. Some colours had the appearance of lake, others seemed to be shaded with the last mentioned colour; the darkest shades had evidently been retouched in secco. In the painting of the Assumption, by Gaudenzio Ferrari, the parts painted blue are still of a very fine colour, and the whole picture is in excellent preservation.
Many of the frescoes painted by these two distinguished artists in other localities have been sawn from the wall or transferred to canvas or panel, and are now preserved in the gallery of Brera at Milan, where they are favourably placed for observation.
Luini’s frescoes are generally outlined with the style, the indentations of which are visible. This artist appears to have employed a colour which resembled lake in fresco, for on looking along the face of the picture (the picture being placed between the eye and the light,) the surface of the fresco appears unbroken both on lights and shades. Luini introduces draperies of a fine yellow colour which is still perfect; the lights are of the colour of Naples-yellow, either alone or mixed with white, and occasionally gold is employed on his mural pictures. Besides terra-verde, he appears to have used a green pigment prepared from copper. Both this latter and the red used by Gaudenzio Ferrari seem to have been so well aware of the difficulties attending the use of this colour that they rarely introduced it. The small quantity of blue found on the pictures of Luini is of a greyish tint inclining rather to red than black. The glassy surface is visible on the lighter parts, but the darkest shades look dull, as if they had been applied in distemper. Some of the draperies are of a fine deep red colour, which appears to be painted entirely in fresco. Luini’s colours are in general very bright and perfect, the darkest shades being produced by the pure colour, and the gradations made by adding white to the local colours.
Among the principal frescoes by Gaudenzio Ferrari, now in the gallery of Brera, are the “Adoration of the Magi,” and the “History of Joachim and Anna,” two large pictures, divided, each of them, into three compartments; and a third picture representing some passages in the life of the Virgin. These pictures being characteristic specimens of Gaudenzio’s style of colouring, I procured some engravings of them in outline, and coloured them from the original pictures, imitating as nearly as possible the present state of the colouring. The effect of the pictures is warm and rich; red and yellow are the prevailing colours. Many of the draperies are changeable, or as we should call them, “shot;” these changeable draperies, in which the lights and shades are of different colours, give great variety and richness to the picture. There are white draperies shaded with yellow; light yellow shaded with dark yellow, or with green; darker yellows shaded with red; and red draperies with the folds of a darker tint of the same colour. Many of the figures have pink draperies, which I could not imitate without using lake, and this was the more singular, inasmuch as I found that the lake on my white palette, when placed close to and compared with the original, did not in the least resemble it; but, on the contrary, a mixed tint of light red and Indian red, and in some cases, of Indian red alone, when on the palette, exactly matched the lake colour of the original. I mention this fact without being able to account for it, unless it is to be attributed to the effects of contrast with other colours, or to the mixture of lime with the red, for we know that vermilion mixed with white in oil-painting takes a pink tint. The lake colour, whatever it was, was probably applied before the picture was dry, for it had the same polished surface as the rest of the picture, and as the eye glanced along the face of it, no re-touchings in secco were visible except in the case of the blue pigment, to which I shall again refer. Continuing then to compare the colours on the palette with those on the picture, I found that the darkest lake colours exactly matched Indian red; the colour resembling vermilion corresponded precisely with the vermilion on the palette; and as this colour is by some authors enumerated among the pigments used in fresco-painting, we may conclude that it was actually employed in these pictures where it appears to be so. The deep reds appeared to be painted with red ochre, Indian red being used for the shadows, and a few bright lights were apparently touched with vermilion. The earthy red colours, although perhaps not particularly bright in themselves, gained brilliancy and value by their judicious opposition with cool green, which is freely introduced in these old frescoes. A great deal of terra verde is used, with a more vivid green prepared from copper on the brightest parts. The tones of the flesh are warm, and the hair of many of the figures brown or chestnut. To balance the warm colours, the painter has introduced some white draperies with grey shades, some green draperies, grass beneath the feet of the figures, green trees, and green trappings to a horse. In the two large pictures, Gaudenzio appears to have endeavoured to avoid the use of blue, which is limited to the sandals of a figure in the foreground of each painting; and this blue, which appears to have been a preparation of copper, was certainly laid on in distemper. In another picture, the blue lights on a red drapery, and in a third, the scarf of one figure, and a ribbon round the hair of the Virgin, are the only blue touches introduced by the painter. It may be observed that there are no marks of the style in these, or any other pictures that I have seen by Gaudenzio Ferrari, who appears to have outlined his frescoes with a red earth.
Luini and Gaudenzio Ferrari flourished in the early part of the sixteenth century; I shall now mention the works of an artist who lived about a century later, and who enjoys a great reputation as a fresco-painter.
The mural-paintings by Bartolommeo Cesi (the master of the Carracci) in the chapel of the Archiginnasio at Bologna are, at least as regards the execution, perfect specimens of mural painting. They are extremely well preserved, the only part injured being a portion of the picture in the centre of the ceiling, which appears to have suffered slightly from damp. They are not executed entirely in buon-fresco. The outline is indented with the style. The joinings of the areas (days’ work) are visible, or at least conspicuous, in a few places only where they sometimes cross a large piece of drapery or the ground of the picture. The fact of these joinings being discernible, is a proof that some parts of the pictures were painted in fresco. The surface of the paintings does not shine like those of Luini and others of the Lombard School.
The colours consist of 1. A fine scarlet ochre with which lake was imitated; the full colour being used for the shades of draperies, and white being mixed with all the other tints. There is no colour on the walls which can be mistaken for lake, but on the ceiling there is a drapery which may have been painted with this colour. 2. Light and dark ochres, shaded with burnt siena, with or without umber; the darkest shades are painted with burnt umber, the lights with white. 3. A cool green, which gives intensity to the reds. 4. The shades of white draperies are of a bluish grey, sometimes formed of blue and white with a little black, and sometimes of black and white upon which blue of the usual tint has been hatched. 5. Blue draperies are sparingly introduced, and they appear to have been painted in the following manner. The lights are of pure white, the pigment being mixed stiff enough to keep its place; the intonaco of the colour of sand-stone is visible between the lights and the blue, and sometimes through the thin blue, and serves for the half-lights. This it will be observed is a variation from the practice of the old masters, who always covered the intonaco entirely with colour. The blue, which is of the colour of turchino and no darker, is hatched on the shades, to which sufficient depth is given by repeating the hatchings. This colour is as perfect as any part of the painting. With the exception of the blue and the white draperies, the high lights of the coloured draperies are in no instance of pure white. The various tints appear to have been laid in flat or softened and united with nearly as much facility as in water-colours. Where hatching is introduced, the gradation of the tints is so well observed that the hatching does not by its harshness offend the eye, as in many frescoes which I have seen, particularly in those by the Carracci in the Palazzo Fava. The shadows have the true character of shade, neutrality, and transparency. The flesh is painted with the impasto of oil, and the hatching is not very perceptible.
The subjects of the large paintings around the Chapel are from the history of the Virgin. The figures on the ceiling are smaller than those on the wall, and this, with the lightness of the colours in the former, gives an effect of distance. The painter has introduced into the background pleasing landscapes, which are very retiring, and has diffused over the whole that impression of daylight which prevails in all the best frescoes. I cannot omit to mention a kneeling female figure in one of the angles of the ceiling; she is covered with a white veil, which suffers her features to be seen through it, and which is beautifully painted. It appears to me that the difficulty of painting a transparent drapery of this kind in fresco, without disturbing the colours on the damp wall beneath must have been very great; but if we suppose that the veil was added in distemper when the surface was dry, the difficulty would be in a great measure removed, although, even in that case, one cannot help being surprised at the perfect state of preservation in which we find this figure after a lapse of at least two hundred years.
The mention of the landscape backgrounds in these compositions by Cesi, reminds me of a remark of some writer, the truth of which I have frequently proved, and which is applicable not only to fresco painting, but to all other pictures whatsoever. I allude to the situation of the horizontal line, which, in historical or other subjects, where the figures are the principal object, is, by all the best masters invariably placed very high in the picture, frequently above the heads of the figures. This rule, founded on the first principles of perspective, is so generally observed by them, that it would, I believe, be scarcely possible to find a deviation from it in any old Italian picture. Where a practice is so universal, it is almost unnecessary to refer to examples; I will, however, direct the attention of the reader to the “Raising of Lazarus,” by Sebastian del Piombo, and the “St. Catherine” of Raffaelle, in the National Gallery, and also to the Cartoons at Hampton Court, copies of which are in every one’s hands.
In all these compositions the horizontal line is placed very high, and the landscape backgrounds are very retiring. With precept and example before them, it is astonishing that so many painters of our own era should so frequently have violated this fundamental rule. It is undoubtedly much easier, and a great saving of time, to paint a background of clouds, or even a level expanse of blue sky, with a little bit of distance, not reaching up to the knees of the figures, than it is to fill the backgrounds with a landscape varied with hill, and valley, and river, and diversified with trees, animals, and figures, the whole receding gradually from the eye according to the laws of aerial perspective; but the practice first alluded to is inexcusable, and as a painter cannot, or ought not, to plead ignorance of the laws of perspective, the non-observance of them can only be attributed to the idleness of the artist, or the presumed ignorance of the spectator. The study of perspective is now so generally diffused, that it appears almost superfluous to observe that there cannot be two horizontal lines in the same picture. The eye of the spectator cannot dwell at the same time upon the countenances of the figures, in which the sentiment of the picture resides; and upon the horizontal line of a landscape background which does not reach to the knees of the figures.
I will refer, by way of illustration, to the otherwise fine picture by Müller, entitled “Prayer in the Desert,” which is known to the readers of this Journal by the engraving in the number for September, 1847. The scene represents a level country, terminated by a range of distant mountains; several figures in the Egyptian costume are arranged in different attitudes on a prayer-carpet near the foreground; these figures are of such dimensions that the low and distant horizon appears just above their knees. Now, supposing the horizon to represent the height of a person of ordinary stature either sitting or standing, and about four or five feet from the ground, the figures must have been giants, not quite so large, it is true, as the celebrated “Pair” which Müller has represented in another and most effective picture, but at least from sixteen to twenty feet in height. If, on the contrary, the figures are supposed to be of the natural size, and to be standing on level ground, it is quite impossible that the horizon could have appeared, unless to a person whose eye is near the ground, so low as it is represented in the picture. In either case, it appears to me, that figures placed so near the foreground, and yet so high above the eye of the spectator (as represented by a point on the horizon of the picture), should be somewhat foreshortened. Other instances of a similar deviation from the laws of perspective might be mentioned, but my object is to point out the error, and to recommend the example of the great Italians in this respect, and not to criticise modern painters.
Let us now recapitulate. We find that the chief sources of injury to mural paintings are damp arising from the earth, or from the infiltration of water, and the imperfect preparation of the wall; and that when due precautions are observed in both these particulars, there is no reason to fear any injury to mural paintings from exposure to the rain and other vicissitudes of the seasons.
With regard to the colours used on mural paintings, we find that the most durable are reds and yellows. On these neither the light of the sun nor exposure to the weather appears to have any effect, and after a lapse of between three or four hundred years, these colours are as bright as when they were first laid on the wall by the painter. The cooler colours, such as blues and greens, are not equally durable, although we have seen that in some few instances green has been found permanent even on pictures exposed to the weather.*
* To be continued.
pp. 186–189
ON THE COLOURS USED IN MURAL PAINTING.
BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.
It is well known that the best frescanti confined themselves, as much as possible, to the use of native pigments, which, considered individually, could not boast of great brilliancy of colour, but which derived value from their skilful arrangement and opposition, and from their great durability. This limited number of colours was not the effect of choice, but was forced upon the fresco-painter by the nature of the lime with which the colours were mixed, and which was incompatible with many of the more florid colours.
In fresco-secco a greater number of pigments were admissible, although, even in this kind of painting, the list of colours was not very extensive.
In oil-painting, where difficulties similar to those which existed in fresco-painting were not to be encountered, we find the great Venetian masters systematically employing few colours, and those chiefly earths. The limited extent, therefore, of the palette of the fresco-painter cannot altogether be considered as a disadvantage peculiar to this branch of the Art; on the contrary, it is attended with the positive advantage of showing, that beauty of colouring consists in the skilful and harmonious arrangement and opposition of colours, rather than in the brilliancy of the pigments employed.
Instances, however, are not wanting among the old masters, of the introduction of brilliant and lively colours in mural painting. The frescoes of Tiepolo of Venice and of the Campi of Cremona, leave nothing to be desired in this respect. The mural paintings by these artists are remarkable for the brightness and good preservation of the colours. Blue, which is so difficult to use, and so liable to change, remains fresh in their pictures. The greens also, and the yellows, retain their brilliancy. A green colour, evidently prepared from copper, is common in Milanese frescoes, and in all cases appears to be very permanent. On some of the frescoes in the Gallery of Brera, at Milan, those, for instance, by Luini, Gaudenzio Ferrari, and Porta, a pigment which resembles vermilion, and which retains its colour, has been used; and there is a piece of bright scarlet drapery in a fresco in the same gallery, by Vincenzo Foppa. The colours in the mural paintings by Luini, are, as I have before observed, remarkably fresh and bright; I saw one piece of drapery of a deep blue, – a rare occurrence in Luini’s mural paintings – others of a full and bright red, of a brilliant yellow, and of a fine lake colour. Brilliant colours, therefore, are not incompatible with mural painting, and modern painters will, it appears to me, do right in availing themselves of all the various pigments supplied both by nature and art, provided that they are durable in themselves, that they agree chemically with each other, and with the materials with which they are used, and above all that they are perfectly well prepared for painting.
Natural pigments are universally acknowledged to be more durable than artificial. The colouring matters of the former are oxides of metals, and although they may be imitated, or even surpassed in brightness and transparency of colour by the artificial oxides, yet it is found that the pigments in their natural state contain certain ingredients, such as silica, alumina, and other substances, which contribute to their durability, and render them more eligible as pigments than the artificial oxides. Some of the ingredients referred to, may be either entirely unknown, or their nature only partially understood, as in the case of orpiment—if I may be permitted to allude to a pigment which cannot be used in mural painting, and which is of very questionable eligibility in oil. I am not aware that painters distinguish between the native and the artificial pigments of this name, but chemists know that the native specimens of orpiment are much less poisonous than the artificial. The difference undoubtedly arises from the mixture of some ingredients with the former, which, without injuring its colour, render it less noxious, and which have hitherto eluded the research, or been thought unworthy of the attention, of the chemist, who probably considered that he had done enough in ascertaining the minerals to which the pigment was indebted for its colour, without determining its exact composition.
The same observation has been made with regard to mineral waters. Such is the change which has taken place in chemical science, that the analysis of waters which was deemed correct twenty years ago, is now found to be defective from the discovery of many substances, the existence of which was not at that period even suspected. Within the last ten years, no less than seven new chemical elements have been discovered; but their discovery has as yet had no effect upon science, for little is known of them besides their names. There can be no doubt, however, that the superiority of natural over artificial mineral waters is to be attributed to the admixture of the former with certain unknown ingredients. There is every probability that if chemistry continues to make the rapid strides it has done of late, the analyses of the present day will be as useless hereafter as those made twenty years since. Artificial pigments, like artificial waters, will never be as valuable as natural ones, until it can be shown that they contain exactly the same ingredients, and in the same proportion, as the native.
Cennino Cennini relates how he went one day with his father Andrea Cennini, in search of ochres, to a certain cave, the situation of which he describes so minutely, that one fancies there would be little difficulty in finding, even at this distance of time, the exact locality: – “On the confines of Casole, on the skirts of the forest of the Comune of Colle, above a village called Dometara.” Here the good old man tells us with apparent delight, that he found, nearly in one spot, specimens of yellow earth, of light and dark sinopia, blue, white, and black earths; in short, a whole palette of colours. The artist who would possess a variety of ochres, cannot do better than follow Cennini’s example, and collect them himself whenever he has an opportunity. The variety of the ochreous pigments is infinite; their number is legion. In the immediate neighbourhood of Brighton, and perhaps generally in those parts of Sussex where iron mines were formerly worked, many shades of ochre, varying in colour from pale yellow to bright red, may be obtained; some of the finest specimens are frequently found embedded in the heart of a lump of chalk. In Cornwall and Devon, I am informed, the varieties are still greater. Solid pieces of ochre were always preferred by the Italians to the same pigments in powder.
An ochreous pigment called arzica, of a very light but not pure yellow colour, was formerly employed by the mediæval artists. It was, and still is, used in foundries for making the moulds for casting brass. When burnt, this earth assumes a subdued orange tint, which, as well as the unburnt pigment, promises to be useful not only in oil but in fresco.
Andrea Pozzo, a good frescante, better known in this country as the author of the Jesuit’s Perspective, mentions, in the Treatise on Fresco-Painting attached to this work, a native yellow pigment which he calls Luteolum Napolitanum (Naples yellow). This pigment was prepared from a mineral found near Vesuvius, and in other volcanic districts. Its nature has not been satisfactorily ascertained, but I have no doubt of its being synonymous with the Giallolino of Cennini. It may be necessary to observe that the artificial pigment called Naples yellow was not known at the period when Pozzo painted and wrote, consequently it could not have been used by the old masters.
Terra-verde is a valuable pigment which has been employed from a very early period, both in oil and in fresco-painting. When burnt, it changes to a fine transparent brown colour, which was much employed by the old masters, particularly for the shadows of flesh. In this state it is now used by some of our most eminent masters, both in oil and fresco. It should be prepared of two tints; for the first the burning should be arrested before the green tint has entirely disappeared; for the second, the heat should be continued until the terra-verde has become brown. The method of burning this pigment is described by Volpato in his small work entitled “Modo da tener nel depenger,” which has been published and translated in the “Ancient Practice of Painting.”
Many colours unknown to the old masters have recently been added to the palette of the fresco-painter. Some of these which have been adopted by Professor Hess and other German artists, as well as by our most distinguished fresco-painters, are very brilliant, and are considered durable. We may enumerate antimony yellow, (the golden sulphuret?) two preparations of cadmium (one yellow, the other orange), chrome green (oxide of chrome), and cobalt green.
It may be thought that the permanency of colours can only be tested by time, and that a certain period must elapse before the effects of age are visible; but such is now the extent of chemical skill, that we can anticipate the effects of time, and by concentrating the powers of those agents which, like lime, heat, damp, and sulphuretted hydrogen, act injuriously upon colours, modern chemistry can produce in a short space those changes which, in the natural course of time, take a century or more to accomplish. It is to be hoped that the colours recently introduced have been subjected to the most rigid tests, since whatever may be the skill of the painter, the ultimate beauty and durability of the painting depends on the goodness of the materials, and the care bestowed on the preparation of the picture.
The best painters, as well ancient as mediæval and modern, have always been careful in the selection of their pigments; and the necessity of using the best colours and materials has frequently been insisted upon by writers on Art; Cennini and Lanzi make it a point of conscience. The former holds out to the painter who employs good colours, the reward of riches and honours, and then he adds in his quaint style, “and even if you should not be repaid for it, God and our Lady will reward your soul and body for it.” Lanzi, although less quaint, is equally energetic.
In former times the adoption of good colours was not left to the conscience or discretion of the painter. He was required to use those pigments which the test of long experience had proved to be best. It was usual to introduce a clause in the contracts between the Italian artists and their employers, that the former should use the best colours; and the lakes and blues were specifically mentioned in the contract. Thus, in the contract between Paolo Veronese and the Prior of the Convent of S. Giorgio Maggiore, at Venice, for the celebrated picture called “The Marriage of Cana” (which is now at Paris), it was stipulated that Paolo should use the finest ultramarine and other colours of the very best kind: “Oltramarini finissimi, et altri colorj perfectissimi.” Again, Leandro Bassano, with regard to his picture intended for the same convent, undertakes “to paint it in the most perfect manner, with good and fine colours, using Florentine lake, azures, ultramarine and other colours, according as the subject of the picture required.”
The anxiety of the painters to procure the best pigments is not less than that shown by their employers to have them introduced into the pictures for which they had given commissions. The care taken in this respect by the Flemish painters is well known. On one occasion we find Michael Coxis sending to Titian at Venice for some azure of a particular kind, which was required to paint certain parts of a picture he was copying from the original by Van Eyck. On another occasion we find the great Titian himself lamenting the death of the person who used to prepare his white for him.
The permanence of colours in painting is, however, dependent on other circumstances besides their goodness and purity. The vehicles with which they are diluted, and the materials on which they are employed, exercise considerable influence upon their durability. The causes of the changes which take place in the colours of pictures in the course of years, are not always apparent; and it is very interesting to compare the colours of an old picture with copies made of it long ago by different artists, and at different periods.
The “Coronation of the Virgin,” painted by Correggio in 1520, in the Tribune of S. Giovanni at Parma, was destroyed in 1584, in enlarging the church; but the figure of the Virgin was fortunately preserved, and is now inserted in the wall of the Ducal library at Parma. It is in perfect preservation, and is considered one of the finest works of Correggio. There are two copies of this figure at Parma, one by Aretusi, painted about 1568; the other ascribed to Annibale Carracci, now in the Pinacotheca. The Virgin wears a blue drapery, and the difference observable in the colour of this part of the three pictures affords a singular proof of the uncertainty attending the use of this colour, in oil as well as in fresco. The colour in the painting by Correggio inclines to grey, in the copy by Aretusi, it is bluer but not deeper in tone; while in the picture ascribed to Annibale, it is decidedly grey, and looks very heavy when compared with the fresco. Now we cannot doubt that when these copies were painted, the colours of the latter resembled those of the original. A great change must, therefore, have taken place in one or all of them. Which of the three has varied the least from the colour as it was originally painted by Correggio, is a question which can never be satisfactorily ascertained. It is seldom, indeed, that such an opportunity occurs of contrasting the colours of an original picture with two such ancient copies by good masters.
The blue pigments have always been the stumbling-block of fresco-painting. In some pictures they have changed to a heavy leaden colour or to a black, green, or purple; in others they have come off in powder; in others, again, they are covered with a nitrous efflorescence; while some few artists have been possessed of a method of using them, whereby they have been preserved to the present time. Under these circumstances it becomes important to ascertain what blue pigments were used by the Italian frescanti, and the manner in which they were employed.
The blue pigments in general use, were of three kinds, namely, 1st, Ultramarine, which besides its high price, had the disadvantage of falling off in powder, and, according to Palomino, of being liable to fade when mixed with lime. The causes of both these defects are well described by Mr. Dyce in a very interesting paper published in the Sixth Report of the Commissioners on the Fine Arts. 2nd, Smaltino: of this pigment there were two kinds, both of which were vitrified pigments; the one owed its colour to cobalt, the other to copper; the latter was the blue glass described by Vitruvius under the name of “Vestorian Azure.” 3rd, A native and an artificial pigment prepared from copper which were known under the names of Biadetto, Turchino, Cendres bleues, Mountain blue, &c. Judging from the colour, the latter pigments were employed most frequently on mural pictures. The blue pigments obtained from copper are deserving of the attention of the mural painter. In spite of the general want of durability of the blue colours, there is still, as I have before observed, some instances in which this colour is found to be perfectly preserved. In addition to the instances I have already mentioned, the blue backgrounds of the old pictures by Ambruogio Borgognone, in the Lunettes of the Sacristy of Sta. Maria della Passione at Milan; those of the Angels in the gallery of the Church of S. Maurizio (the Monastero Maggiore), also at Milan, and those of the Angels in the Chapel of S. Felice at Padua, are fresh and of good colour. The frequency of blue backgrounds to the figures of angels, as well as the colour, induces me to think that the pigment employed was not ultramarine, which must have been too dear and too scarce to be employed so extensively. The analyses of many early mural paintings prove that the blue pigments so frequently employed owed their colour to copper. The best pigment of this class was the Azurro della Magna, a crystallised blue ore of copper, which some writers say is a carbonate of the oxide, others a simple carbonate. The directions which are contained in old manuals of colours leave no doubt of this pigment having been used in secco; there is then reason to believe that some preparation of copper may afford a good and durable pigment of a fine sky-blue colour, which may be advantageously employed in mural painting, and it would be most desirable for those interested in the subject to institute a series of experiments with a view to ascertain what preparation of copper is most eligible for this purpose. There is a modern blue pigment which is known under the names of copper, mountain, English, Hambro’, lime, kassler, mineral, and Neuwieder, blue. It is prepared from carbonate of copper, and hydrated oxide of copper and lime. It is obtained (by a process, which is in part kept secret), by decomposing subchloride of copper by a solution of caustic potash, and afterwards mixing the mass with caustic lime, and exposing the mixture for some time to the air. The darker sorts contain only a small per centage of quicklime; but the lighter sorts, on the contrary, from twenty to seventy per cent. It is used as a lime colour, but chiefly for colouring rooms, on account of its unchangeability on lime grounds; sometimes as an enamel colour instead of oxide of copper.* Here then is a colour which is not only uninjured by caustic lime, but which is in part composed of this substance, which does not suffer by exposure to the air, but, on the contrary, owes the pureness of its colour to this circumstance. I am not aware that this pigment has been used in fresco painting, but it appears highly desirable to make trial of it.
* “Pharmaceutical Journal,” vol. vii., p. 52.
I have mentioned that the carbonate of copper was called by the Italians *Turchino*. The pigment received this name from its resemblance in colour to the turquoise. The analysis of the latter may afford some useful hints as to the preparation of a pigment from copper. The turquoise is a mixture of clay or earthy phosphates, with the oxides of copper and iron; some writers have even supposed that it is produced naturally in the earth, by the impregnation of the bones of animals with copper. The analysis of the oriental turquoise is, according to Dr. John, as follows: – Alumina, 73; oxide of copper, 4.5; oxide of iron, 4; water, 18; lead and loss, 0.5. The occidental turquoise has been thus analysed by Bouillon La Grange:—Phosphate of lime, 80; carbonate of lime, 8; phosphate of iron, 2; phosphate of magnesia, 2; alumina, 1.5; water, 1.6. We have here the materials for a pigment of a sky-blue colour, which, from the nature of its composition, should be as durable as the artificial ochres—alumina, namely, coloured by the oxides of metals.
But there is another fact to be learned from the above analyses, namely, that copper is not necessary to produce a blue colour, and that iron alone is sufficient for this purpose; although, perhaps, we may not be wrong in attributing the superior colour of the oriental turquoise to the copper which it contains. The presence of iron in the turquoise, as well as in ultramarine, will not be overlooked. It is employed also in the manufacture of artificial ultramarine, and some scientific persons have gone so far as to suppose that the fine colour of the old blue glass was owing to the presence of iron. There is a natural phosphate of iron, which probably is somewhat analogous to the occidental turquoise, of which Mr. Field speaks well as a pigment, and which might probably be useful in fresco-painting, but unfortunately it is of too rare occurrence to be generally adopted, even supposing that its colour rendered it in all cases a fit substitute for other pigments of a less durable nature.
There are technical difficulties in the employment of the blue colours in fresco, which have been adverted to by all writers on fresco-painting. Some recommend their being applied in fresco, others in secco, with size and egg, or with milk. But whenever the pigment was employed in secco, and it was intended to paint a drapery of a deep blue tint, it appears to have been necessary, before applying it, to lay on the wall a coat of some colour which has an affinity for lime. Theophilus directs that a coat of Veneda (black mixed with lime) should be laid under the blue; and Cennini recommends a tint composed of sinopia and black. Sometimes red alone was used, sometimes terra-verde. An instance of the brown tint formed of black and red as a preparation for blue, may be seen in the ceiling of the Sacristy belonging to Sta. Maria della Passione at Milan. It was formerly painted blue with gold stars; the blue has now almost disappeared, excepting just round the stars, the rest of the ceiling being of a dark brown. There is an old fresco in the Church of S. Antonio at Padua, in which the drapery of the Virgin is quite black. As the colours in which she is usually represented are blue and red, it is probable that the black was merely the preparation for the blue, which might have fallen off in powder, or been scraped off for the value of the ultramarine – a species of sacrilege by no means uncommon. It would have been unnecessary to advert to these particulars, except for the purpose of accounting to the non-professional reader for the appearance of these black and brown colours in situations where one expects to find blue; and it may be observed as a general rule, that where these colours are found on ceilings or on draperies, particularly on that of the Virgin, they are to be considered merely as the preparation for blue.
The use of milk as a binding vehicle for colours, is a traditionary practice derived from the ancients. Pliny states that Panæus, the brother of Phidias, covered the walls of the Temple of Minerva at Elis with lime and marble, mixed with milk and saffron. The Spanish writers Guevara and Ponz state that the mixture of milk with the lime gives it greater consistency, and produces a more mellow white colour. Pacheco and Palomino recommend that blue should be mixed with milk, and we find similar directions given in the Marciana MS. on the authority of Andrea di Salerno. “When you paint with blue in fresco, that is on walls, and are desirous that it should retain its colour and not turn black, as generally happens to the blues, distemper the colour with the milk of goats, or of any other animal. “Hoc habui à Magister Andrea di Salerno.” Andrea di Salerno (whose family name was Sabbatini) was a good fresco-painter of the school of Raffaelle, and may be considered as an authority in such matters. It is so seldom that we can obtain any account of the technical practices of the old Italians, that such brief notices as that which we have just quoted are interesting and valuable. As an additional recommendation it may be mentioned, that, as a vehicle for ultramarine, milk has been tried by Mr. Dyce with satisfactory results.*
* See Observations on Fresco-Painting by Mr. Dyce, in the Sixth Report of the Commissioners on the Fine Arts.
The caseous parts of milk form with lime a cement which, once dry, is insoluble. This cement was much used by the old masters for fastening together the pieces of wood of which they formed the panels for their pictures, and we learn from the MS. of Peter de S. Andemar, that this cement was employed in a liquid state at a very early period as a vehicle for a certain vegetable colour when applied on parchment. The caseum used for these purposes was, however, obtained from cheese, and not directly from milk. Were pure caseum soluble in water without the admixture of lime, it would undoubtedly, in consequence of its freedom from salts, be a more eligible vehicle for colours than milk, which abounds in salts. Caseum dissolved by the admixture of lime would probably dry too fast to be useful.
Mr. Dyce thinks that a solution of starch might be preferable to milk as a vehicle, and although this can only be determined by experiment, it appears very probable, inasmuch as the mixture of lime-water with a solution of starch in the proportion of ninety parts of the former to one of the latter, does not occasion any precipitate. It may be observed that when blue was employed in fresco, it was sometimes diluted with lime-water, and that as there is frequently a difficulty in the case of ultramarine or smalt, to make the colour adhere, the addition of a solution of starch to the lime-water would probably effect this purpose.
Besides the difficulties arising from the nature of the pigments, and the medium with which they were applied, painters seem to have experienced another in harmonising the blue with the other colours. Some of the frescanti of the school of the Carracci have succeeded in applying the blue so that it retains its colour until the present time; but this advantage has sometimes been counterbalanced by a want of harmony. This defect is not, however, perceptible in the mural pictures of the early painters of northern Italy, or in those of the frescanti of the Milanese and Cremonese schools, and in some others. These artists, as far as my observation extends, appear to have adopted the following plan.
These masters, in their mural pictures, never used a blue tint exceeding in depth the blue of the sky. The colour may be pretty accurately described as similar to the pigments called Biadetto and Turchino. It was laid in proper gradations on the shadows and folds of the draperies; the lights were invariably white, or nearly so, and the darkest shades were sparingly touched upon the blue, so that, from the colour being limited to the shades and folds of draperies, the effect was that of a transparent blue drapery over white. By this treatment the blue harmonises with the other colours, instead of overpowering them, as it does in the frescoes of Romanelli in the Louvre, where the colour is laid on in its full strength, and the eye is irresistibly attracted by it, to the prejudice of the other colours. For examples of blue applied in the manner described, I may refer to the early pictures by Giusto in the Baptistery at Padua, and to those of a later period by the Campi of Cremona, in Sta. Maria della Passione, at Milan, by Bagnadore and Rossi of Brescia, and by Bartolommeo Cesi and other frescanti of Bologna. As an instance of the successful introduction of a deep blue in mural pictures, I may mention the scarf of the mad woman in one of the frescoes in the Loggia of S. Francesco at Bologna. The colour, which resembles ultramarine, is deep, and harmonises perfectly with the other parts of the picture.
Armenini speaks with great contempt of those fresco-painters who pretended to possess secret methods of using vermilion and fine lakes; and he accuses them of employing those colours solely to attract the admiration of the vulgar. The language of Vasari is not less strong; his opinion on this subject is to be collected not only from his Introduction, but from various passages in the Lives of the Painters. But these writers lived at a time when painting in buon-fresco had attained the greatest technical perfection, when it was considered derogatory to the art to finish any part in secco, and the professors of the improved, or perfect style as it was thought, looked down with contempt upon the beautiful half-tempera paintings of an early period. Making every allowance in favour of a style of painting, the claims of which to our admiration were in part founded upon its technical difficulties, it must be acknowledged that the earlier method, in which the two processes were mixed, had many admirers and followers among the best frescanti. It appears to me that, if a fresco-painting can be rendered richer and more harmonious by the skilful application of certain colours, which, from their incompatibility with lime, require to be added in secco, the use of the two methods on the same picture cannot be any disadvantage, but, on the contrary, it will be a positive improvement. In the excellent paper to which I have already referred more than once, Mr. Dyce expresses himself as being not unfavourable to the adoption of tempera on some parts of frescoes, and the reasons he gives for the old masters having adopted the mixed method, are so satisfactory, that they cannot, as it appears to me, fail to carry conviction to the minds of all unprejudiced persons.
Lake is one of those colours which, if used at all on mural paintings, must be applied in secco. The process of applying it was simple enough: the fresco being completed to a certain point was suffered to dry perfectly, and then a coat of size, or of “gesso da sarto,” was spread over the part to be painted in secco; and on this the colour was afterwards laid. The lake in the mural pictures by Pinturicchio, at Sienna and Rome, which has retained its beauty for upwards of three hundred years, is a sufficient evidence of the durability of this colour. And here the question arises, what kind of lakes were used by the old masters—what was the colouring matter of those lakes which have preserved their freshness for so long a period?
We have historical evidence that lakes were made from cochineal, madder, verzino, lac, and kermes, but to which of these colouring ingredients must the durable lake colour of the old pictures be attributed?
Cochineal-lake, beautiful as it is when first applied, has no pretensions to be included among the more permanent colours. Apart, however, from this consideration, there are chronological reasons why it could not have been used on some of those cinque-cento pictures which still astonish us by the beauty and brightness of the colours. Cochineal could scarcely have been known in Italy previous to 1525, for it was only in 1523 that Cortes was commissioned by the Spanish government to direct his attention to the propagation of this substance, some specimens of which he had transmitted from Spain. The exact period of the introduction of cochineal-lake into Italy is not known; it must have been after 1523 and before 1547; for Matthioli, who published his translation of Dioscorides in that year, mentions it as a new kind of cremisino which was used not only in painting, but for dying silks.
The same chronological difficulty exists with regard to madder, which, although it was employed by the early mediæval painters of Northern Europe, does not appear to have been known to the Italians as a pigment until the time of Neri, who gives in his Arte Vetraria (Florence 1612) recipes for making it.
Verzino, the oriental Brésil wood (Cæsalpinia Sappan) so much used by the Italians from a very early period, would have been ineligible alone from its fugacity. I say alone, because it was a common practice of the Italians to mix verzino with other colouring matters in making lake, as much, perhaps, with the view of lowering its price, as of adding to its beauty, for there is no denying that some of the lakes prepared from wood, are, when quite fresh, very beautiful, although evanescent.
Cochineal, madder, and verzino, being then rejected for the above reasons, there can be no doubt that the best Italian lakes were, prior to 1525, composed either of lac or of kermes (grana – whence our term in grain, to denote a permanent dye). The latter was probably the more common pigment, but the former was generally held in greater estimation. Kermes appears to have inclined more to a blood-red colour, but lac approached nearer to a rose-colour. It is to be hoped that pigments whose reputation for beauty and permanency extends over a period of three or four hundred years will again be used, and that those who are desirous that their pictures should descend to posterity with brilliant and unfaded colours, should reject cochineal-lake—unless some means can be devised of rendering it more permanent—and return to the use of the too long neglected lac and kermes lakes. Some few artists, I am informed, now use lac-lake; I trust this may be considered as a revival, and that the practice will become general.
It appears at first sight astonishing that two pigments which, like lac and kermes lakes, combined the property of fine colour with great durability, should have fallen almost into desuetude; but there is no doubt that this must be ascribed to the introduction of cochineal, which delighted the painters by its beauty (in which respect, when in a recent state, it surpasses that of lac), while its novelty prevented them from forming any estimation of its durability. We, however, have the experience of upwards of three hundred years to guide us in our choice of pigments; we have old works on the technical part of the art to teach us what pigments were used, and how they were composed; we have old pictures to prove the durability of some of these pigments; we have the assistance of chemistry in analysing these pigments, and showing whether they were of mineral, animal, or vegetable origin; and we have further assistance from the history of art, in determining the period when certain colours were introduced, and thus reducing our opinions, formed on other data, almost to a certainty. These advantages were not possessed in an equal degree by the artists of the sixteenth century, who were guided in their choice of materials by the traditions or the manuals of their predecessors, and although the chemists, or rather alchemists, of those days must have been well acquainted with many of the chemical colours which we consider new in their application to art, we do not often find, except in the case of cochineal and madder lakes, painters of reputation employing, or technical manuals inculcating, the adoption of new and untried colours.
It is necessary that the painter should be thoroughly acquainted with the nature and composition of the different pigments, and of their respective affinities, so that he may not attempt to combine them otherwise than on chemical principles. He should also be able to test the purity of the colours he employs. This is not so difficult as might be supposed. When the composition of pigments, and the modes in which they are usually adulterated, are known, it is easy to find some chemical agent which will detect the impurities. To mention one instance only, namely lakes, which are frequently met with in an impure state; these colours, it is well known, are combinations of certain colouring matters with alumina; the alumina is generally procured by decomposing common alum with a carbonate of soda or potash, by which process the alumina is precipitated and another salt is formed, which must be entirely removed by washing, or it will injure the painting on which the lake is used. This is a tedious process, as the colour sometimes requires twenty or thirty washings before it is sufficiently purified; it is frequently performed very inefficiently. The method of ascertaining whether this colour is free from salts, is very simple and easy; it was communicated to me by a scientific friend who has frequently afforded me valuable assistance in these researches. It is as follows: – Wash a small quantity of lake in distilled water; after stirring it well, let it settle, then pour the water into a silver spoon, and evaporate it over a candle or spirit-lamp. If the liquid contain any salts, there will be at the bottom of the spoon, a small opaque spot, consisting of minute crystals; if, on the contrary, the colour be quite pure, the water will evaporate entirely, and leave the spoon perfectly clean.
Most of the preceding observations with respect to the colours used in mural painting are the result of my own personal inspection during a recent excursion in the north of Italy. The other remarks and observations are drawn from the writings of those esteemed the best authors on the subject, and from the observations and experiments of many scientific friends. I have expressed myself in language perhaps too decided, and some of my remarks and concluding observations do not in all respects concur with those of eminent authors. The whole of my remarks, however, are open to observation, and I trust that their truth will be verified as far as possible by experiment. They are placed before the public with the hope that they will form some addition to the knowledge of mural painting, an art which, I cannot help believing, will be ultimately established and extensively practised in this country, and which in that case will, in all probability, arrive at the perfection which it attained in the best times of the great Italian masters.