SigPhi · Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

The Philosophy of Fine Art, volume 3 (of 4)

Page 20 of 30

to whose works I had just happened to devote exceptional attention.

This facility afforded me great enjoyment, but also increased the desire from time to time to persevere in the exercise of a talent which Nature seemed ungracious enough to disallow me[308]." This variety in the manner of colouring is exceptionally conspicuous in the painting of human flesh, quite apart from all modifications rendered necessary by the mode of lighting, age, sex, situation, and the like considerations. And for the rest, whether the subject depicted be daily life, outside or within the interior of private houses, taverns, churches, or other buildings, or it be that of Nature's landscape, with its wealth of objects and colour, which finds more or less accurate reflection in the personal essay of any particular painter, the result cannot fail to illustrate this varied play of form and colour effect[309], which will infallibly appear, due as it is to the manner in which each comprehends, reproduces, and creates his own work according to his own outlook, experience and imaginative powers.

(_c_) We have hitherto, in discussing the several points of view which are given effect to in the art of painting, referred, _firstly_, to its content, and _secondly_ to the sensuous medium in which such content can be built up. We have in conclusion to define the mode under which the artist is bound to conceive and execute his content as a painter and under the conditions of his particular medium. We will divide the very considerable matter which such an investigation implies in the following manner: _First_, we have to deal with the more _general_ distinctions in forms of _conception_, which it will be necessary to classify and follow in their progressive advance to richer manifestations of life.

_Secondly_, we shall have to direct attention to the more definite aspects, which, within these general types of conception, are more directly referable to genuine pictorial _composition_, that is, the artistic motives apparent in the particular situation and manner of grouping selected.

_Lastly_, we propose to review rapidly the mode of _characterization_, which results from distinctions of subject-matter no less than modes of conception.

(_α_) With respect to the most generally prevailing modes of artistic conception[310], we shall find these are in some measure due to the content which has to be depicted, and in part are referable to the course of the art's evolution, which does not from the first seek to elaborate all that is apparent in any subject, but rather through a variety of stages and transitions makes itself fully mistress of Life and its manifestations.

(_αα_) The first position which the art of painting is able to secure still betrays its origin from sculpture and architecture: in the _entire mode_ of its conception it is still in close association with these arts. And this will pre-eminently be the case where the artist restricts himself to individual figures, which he does not place before us in the vital connections of an essentially concrete situation, but in the simple independence of its self-repose. Out of the many sources of content which I have indicated as adapted to painting, we shall find religious subjects, Christ, his apostles, and the like are exceptionally suited to such abstract treatment. Such figures as these must necessarily be assumed to possess sufficient significance in their isolation, to be complete in themselves, and to unfold an object sufficiently substantive of adoration and love. Belonging to this type, particularly in early art, we meet with examples of Christ or his saints isolated without definite situation and environment. If we do find the latter it mainly consists in architectural embellishments, particularly Gothic; this is frequently the case in early Flemish or upper German art[311]. In this relation to architecture, among the columns and arches of which such figures as the twelve apostles and others are frequently composed, painting does not as yet attain to the life-like actuality of its later development, and we find that even the figures still retain in some measure a character which inclines to the statuesque, or to some extent do not move beyond such a general type as we find indicated in its fundamentals by Byzantine painting. For isolated figures of this character, devoid of any background or only retaining a purely architectonic outline, a more severe simplicity of colour, and a more emphatic brilliancy, is as it should be. The oldest school of painters have consequently employed a single-tinted ground of gold instead of a rich natural landscape, a ground which the colours of drapery have to confront, and to which they are compelled to adapt themselves; these are consequently more decisive and glaring than the colours employed in the periods of Art's finest bloom, just as we find as a rule that simple vivid colours such as red, blue, and the rest are most pleasing to uncultivated people.

To this earliest type of conception it is that for the most part the miracle-working pictures belong. To such as to something stupendous man is merely placed in a relation of stupidity, from which the aspect of their artistic merit vanishes, so that they are not brought nearer to his conscious life in friendly guise in accordance with their vital humanity and beauty, and the very pictures which are most revered in a religious sense are from an artistic standpoint the most execrable.

If, however, isolated figures of this type do not supply an object for devotion or interest as being already complete and independent personality, their execution, carried out as it is in consonance with the principle of statuesque conception, has no meaning at all.

Portraits, for example, are of interest to relatives who know the man thus portrayed and his individuality. But where the personages thus depicted are forgotten or unknown the sympathy which is excited by their portraiture in a given action or situation, which gives definite content to a particular character, is of a wholly different kind to that which we find in the entirely simple type of conception above referred to. Really great portraits, when they face us in the fullest wealth of life all the means of art can display, possess in this wealth itself the power to stand forth from and step out of their frames. In looking at the portraits of Van Dyck, for example, more particularly when the pose of the figure is not wholly full face, but slightly turned away, the frame has struck me like the door of the world, which the man before me enters. When consequently individuals do not possess, as saints, angels and the like do, a characterization which is in itself sufficiently complete and acknowledged, and are only interesting by virtue of the definite character of a given situation, some single circumstance or particular action, it is not suitable to present them as independent figures. As an example of this the last work of Kügelchen in Dresden was a composition of four heads, half figures, namely, Christ, John the Evangelist, John the Baptist, and the Prodigal Son. So far as Christ and John the Evangelist are concerned I found the conception quite appropriate. But in the case of the Baptist, and in every respect in that of the Prodigal Son, I failed to connect with them the authentic character which could justify a treatment of them as half-length portraits. In such cases it is essential to place the figures in a condition of action or incident, or at least to show them in situations, by means of which, in vital association with external environment, they can assert the individuality which marks an essentially exclusive whole. The head of the Prodigal Son in the above picture expresses no doubt, very finely too, pain, profound repentance and remorse, but the only indication we have given us that this is the repentance of the Prodigal Son is a very diminutive herd of swine in the foreground. Instead of a symbolical reference of this kind we ought to see him among his swine, or at least in some other scene of his life. The Prodigal Son, in short, does not possess for us any further general characterization complete as such in our minds and only exists, in so far as he is not purely allegorical, in the well-known scenes of Biblical narrative. He should be depicted to us as leaving his father's house, or in his misery, his repentance and return, that is, in the concrete facts of the tale. Those swine put in the foreground do not carry us much further than a label with "The Prodigal Son" written on it.

(_ββ_) And generally it is obvious that painting, for the reason that its function is to accept as its content the wealth of soul-life in all its detail, is, to a yet greater extent than sculpture, unable to rest satisfied with that repose on itself which is without defined situation and the conception of a character taken by itself and alone simply. It is bound to make the effort to exhibit such self-subsistency and its content in specific situation, variety, and distinction of character viewed in their mutual relations and in association with their environment. It is, in fact, just this departure from purely eclectic and traditional types, from the architectonic composition of figures and the statuesque mode of conception; it is just this liberation from all that is devoid of movement and action, this striving after a living human expression, a characteristic individuality; it is this investment of a content with all the detail of the ideal and external condition that affects it which constitutes the advance of the art, in virtue of which it secures its own unique point of view. Consequently to painting as to no other plastic art is it not merely permitted, but it is even required from it, that it should unfold dramatic realization, and by the composition of its figures display their activity in a distinctly emphasized situation.

(_γγ_) And, in the _third_ place, closely connected with this absorption in the complete wealth of existing life and the dramatic movement of circumstance and character, we are aware of the importance which is increasingly attached, both in conception and execution, to the individuality and the vital wealth of the colour aspect of all objects, in so far as in painting we attain to the supremest effects of vital truth which are capable of being expressed purely by colour.

This magical result of appearance can, however, be carried to such a pitch, that in contrast to it the exhibition of content becomes a matter of indifference, and painting tends to pass over, in the mere charm and perfume of its colour tones, and the contrast, fusion, and play of their harmonies, into the art of music, precisely as sculpture, in the elaboration of its reliefs, tends to associate itself with painting.

(_β_) What we have in the first instance now to pass in review are the particular lines[312] that pictorial _composition_ is constrained to adhere to in its productions when presenting to us a definite situation and the more immediate motives referable to it by virtue of the way it concentrates and groups together various figures and natural objects in one self-exclusive whole.

(_αα_) What is of fundamental and pre-eminent importance here is the happy selection of a situation adapted to the art.

In this respect the imaginative powers of the painter possess an immeasurable field to select from, a field whose limits extend from the simplest situation[313] of an object insignificant in itself, such as a wreath of flowers, or a wineglass composed with plates, bread, and certain fruits, to rich compositions of important public events, political actions, coronation fêtes, battles, or even the Last Judgment, in which God the Father, Christ, his apostles, the heavenly legions, nay, our entire humanity, and earth, heaven, and hell are brought together. And here a closer inspection will show us that we must clearly distinguish what is truly pictorial on the one hand from that which is sculpturesque, and on the other from what is poetical in the sense that it is only poetry that can fully express it.

The essential difference between a _pictorial_, and _sculpturesque_ situation consists, as we have already seen, in this, that the main function of sculpture is to place before us that which is self-subsistent in its tranquillity, without conflict under conditions that do not affect it, in which distinctness of definition is not the main demand, it is only in the relief that it really begins to approach a group composition, and an epic expanse of figures begins to represent actions involving motion, and which imply collision of opposing forces.

The art of painting, on the contrary, only thoroughly takes up its proper task, when it moves away from figures composed independently of their more concrete relations, moves away from a situation that is deficient in its elaboration, in order that it may thus pass into the sphere of living movement, human conditions, passions, conflicts, actions in persistent association with external environment, and even in its composition of natural landscape is able to retain firmly this definite structure of a given situation and its most lifelike individuality. It was for this reason that from the first we maintained that painting was called upon to effect the exposition of character, soul, and ideal qualities, not in the way that this spiritual world enables us to recognize it directly in its external shape, but in the way it evolves and expresses its actual substance by means of _actions._ And the truth we have just mentioned is that which brings painting into closer relation with _poetry._ Both arts have in this respect an advantage[314], and from another point of view, also a disadvantage.

Painting is unable to give us the development of a situation, event, or action, as poetry or music, that is to say, in a _series_ of changes; it can only embody one moment of time. A simple reflection is deducible from this, namely, that we must in this one moment have placed before us the substance of the situation or action in its entirety, the very bloom of it; consequently, that moment should be selected in which all that preceded and followed it is concentrated in one point. In the case of a battle, for example, this moment will be that of victory. The conflict is still apparent, but its decisive conclusion is equally so.

The artist is able, therefore, to retain as it were the residue of the Past, which, in the very act of withdrawal and disappearance, still asserts itself in the Present, and furthermore can suggest what has yet to be evolved as the immediate result of a given situation. I cannot, however, here enlarge further on this head. The painter, however, together with this disadvantage as against the poet, is to this extent advantaged in that he can bring the precise scene before our vision in all the appearance of its reality, can depict it perfectly in all its detail. "_Ut pictura poesis erit_" is no doubt a favourite saying which is particularly and pertinaciously advanced by theorists, and is no doubt actually accepted and exemplified by narrative poetry in its descriptions of the seasons, its flowers, and its landscapes. Detailed transcription of such objects and situations is, however, not only a very dry and tedious affair, and indeed, so far from being exhaustive, always leaves something more to say. It is, further, contrasted with painting, only a confusing result, because it is forced to present as a successive series of ideas what painting sets before our vision once and for all, so that we constantly tend to forget what has gone before and lose it from our minds, despite the fact that it should be held in essential relation with that which follows, inasmuch as under the spatial condition it is in fact a part of it, and only is significant in this association and this immediacy. It is, however, just in this contemporaneous exposition of detail that the painter can restore that which, in respect to the progressive series of past and future events, he fails to secure.

There is, however, another respect in which painting yields place to poetry and music, and that is in its lyrical quality. The art of poetry can not only develop emotions and ideas generally as such respectively, but also in their transitions, movement, and increased intensity. In respect to concentrated intensity this is yet more the case in music, which is essentially concerned with soul-movement. To represent this painting has nothing beyond the expression of face and pose; and if it does exclusively direct its effort, to what is actually lyrical, it misconceives the means at hand. However much the soul's passion may be expressed in the play of the countenance or bodily movement, such expression should not be directly referable to emotion as such, but to emotions in so far as they are present, with a _definite_ mode of expression, in an event or action. The fact that it reveals ideality in external form therefore does not connote the abstract meaning that it makes the nature of the soul visible by means of physiognomy and form, under the mode of which it expresses soul-life; it is rather just the individual situation of an action, passion in some specific outburst thereof, by means of which the emotion is unfolded and recognized.

When, therefore, it is attempted to interpret the poetical quality of painting under the assumption that it should express the soul's emotion directly, without a motive and action more near to it in facial expression and pose, all that we do in such a case is to throw the art back upon an abstraction, which its effort should precisely strive to be rid of; we ask of it, in short, that it should master the peculiar and just contribution of poetry; and if it attempts to do this the result will be a barren and stale one.

I particularly insist on this point because in the exhibition of art we had here last year (1828) several pictures from the so-called Düsseldorf school have received much attention, the painters of which, while displaying in their work considerable knowledge and technical ability, have laid almost exclusive stress on this ideal aspect, on material that is only capable of adequate presentment in poetry. The content, for the most part borrowed from poems of Goethe or from Shakespeare, Ariosto, and Tasso, may be generally indicated as the ideal emotion of Love. As a rule the most capable of these pictures set before us a pair of lovers, Romeo and Juliet, for example, or Rinaldo and Armida, without any further situation, so that these couples have nothing more to do and express except the fact that they are in love with each other, in other words, they share a mutual attraction, gaze on each other as lovers, and as lovers look yet again. Naturally in such a case the main expression must be concentrated in the mouth and eyes; and we may add that our Rinaldo has been so placed relatively to his spider legs that he looks very much as though he did not know what to do with them. They are extensions which are entirely without meaning. Sculpture, as we have seen, dispenses with the glance of eye, the soul-flash; painting, on the other hand, seizes on this potent means of expression, but it must not focus everything at this one point, it should not make the fire or the refluent languor and yearning of the eye or soft friendliness of lips the soul and centre of expression without any other motives. Equally defective was the fisherman of Hübner, the theme of which was borrowed from that famous poem of Goethe, which depicts with such wonderful depth and charm of feeling the indefinite yearning for the repose, coolness and purity of water. The naked fisher lad, who in this picture is being drawn into the water, has, just as the male figures in the other pictures have, a very prosaic looking face, such as we could not imagine, if the features were in repose, to be capable of profound or beautiful emotions. And, as a rule, we cannot assert of these figures, whether male or female, that they are beautiful in a healthy sense; they, on the contrary, merely betray the nervous excitement, weakness, and disease of Love and emotional life generally, which people have no business to repeat and which we would willingly, whether in life or Art, be spared. To the same class of conception belongs the way that Schadow, the master of this school, has depicted Goethe's Mignon. The character of Mignon is wholly poetical. What makes her interesting is her Past, the severity of her destiny as it affects both her inward and outward life, the conflict of her Italian, wholly excited passion in a soul which is still obscure to itself, which can neither decide upon a course of action or object, and which, being this mystery to itself, merges itself in such and yet can do itself no good. It is this self-expression wholly divided in itself and yet retiring into itself, and only letting us see its confusion in isolated and unrelated eruptions, which creates the awful interest we cannot fail to experience in her. Such a network of contradictions we may no doubt imagine in our minds, but the art of painting is wholly unable to, present it to us, as Schadow has attempted to do, simply by means of Mignon's form and physiognomy, without defining further any situation or action. We may, therefore, assert generally that the above-mentioned pictures are conceived without any real insight for situations, motives, and expression. It is, in short, an inseparable condition of genuine artistic representations of painting that the entire subject-matter should be grasped with imaginative power, should be made visible to us in figurative form, which is expressed and manifests its ideal quality through a series of feeling, that is, through an action, which is of such significance to the emotion, that each and everything in the work of art appears to be entirely appropriated by the imagination to express the content selected. The old Italian painters have to a conspicuous degree, no less than their modern fraternity, depicted love-scenes, and in part borrowed the material from poetry; but they have known how to clothe the same with imagination and delight. Cupid and Psyche, Cupid and Venus, Pluto's rape of Proserpine, the rape of the Sabine women, such and other similar subjects the old masters depicted in lifelike and definite situations, in scenes properly motived and not merely as simple emotion conceived without imaginative grasp, without action. They have also borrowed love scenes from the Old Testament. We may find an example in the Dresden Gallery, a picture of Giorgione, in which Jacob, after his long journey, greets Rachel, presses her hand and kisses her; in the distance there stand a pair of youths by a spring, busily engaged in watering their herds, which are feeding, a large number of them, in the dale. Another picture presents to us Isaac and Rebecca. Rebecca gives Abraham's carls water to drink and is recognized in doing so.

In the same way scenes are taken from Ariosto; we have Medor, for example, writing the name of Angelica on the edge of a spring. When, therefore, people nowadays refer to poetry in painting, this can only mean, as already insisted, that we must grasp a subject imaginatively and suffer emotions to unfold themselves in action; it excludes the idea of securing feeling simply as such or endeavouring thus to express it. Even poetry, which is capable of expressing emotion in its ideal or spiritual substance, is unfolded in ideas, images, and descriptions.

If this art was content to abide by a mere "I love thee," repeated eternally, as its entire expression, such a consummation no doubt, might prove highly agreeable to those masters who have talked so much about the poetry of poetry, but it would be the blankest prose for all that. For art generally in its relation to emotion consists in the apprehension and enjoyment of the same by means of the imagination, which in poetry displays passion in its conceptions, and satisfies us in their expression, whether that expression be lyrical, or conveyed in epical events, or dramatic action. As a presentment of the inward life of soul, however, in painting the mouth, eye, and pose, do not alone suffice; we must have the total objective realization in its concreteness to make valid and vouch for such ideality.

The main thing, then, in a picture is that it present to us a situation, the scene of some action. And closely associated with this we have the primary law of _intelligibility._ In this respect religious subjects possess the supreme advantage, that they are universally known. The annunciation of the angel, the adoration of the shepherds or of the three kings, the repose in the flight to Egypt, the crucifixion, burial, resurrection, no less than the legends of the saints, were well known subjects with the public, for whom such pictures were painted, albeit to our own generation the stories of the martyrs are removed to some distance. For a particular church, for example, it was mainly the biography of its patrons or its guardian saints which was represented. Consequently it was not always the painters themselves who selected such subjects; particular circumstances rendered such selection inevitable for particular altars, chapels, and cloisters, so that the place where they are exhibited in itself contributes to their elucidation. And this is, in part, necessary, for in painting we do not find speech, words, and names, by which interpretation of poetry may be materially assisted to say nothing of all its other means. And in the same way in a royal residence, council-hall, or parliament-building, scenes of great events, important situations taken from the history of the state, city, and building in which they are found are there, and receive a just recognition in the place for which they were originally painted. It is hardly likely, for instance, that in painting a picture for one of our palaces an artist would select a subject borrowed from English or Chinese history, or from the life of King Mithridates. It is otherwise in picture galleries, where we have all kinds of subjects brought together that we could wish to buy or possess as examples of fine works of art. In such a case, of course, the peculiar relation of any picture to a definite locale, no less than its intelligibility, so far as it is thereby promoted, disappears. The same thing is true of the private collection. The collector brings together just what he can get; the principle is that of a public gallery, and his love of art or caprice may extend in other directions.

Allegorical pictures are far inferior to those of historical content in the matter of intelligibility; they are, moreover, for the reason that the ideal vitality and emphatic characterization of the figures must in great measure pass out of them, indefinite, and not motive to enthusiasm. Landscapes and situations borrowed from the reality of daily life, are, on the contrary, no less clear in their substantial import than, in respect to their characterization, dramatic variety, movement and wealth of existence, they supply a highly favourable opportunity for inventive power and executive ability.

(_ββ_) To render the defined situation of a picture intelligible, in so far as the artist is called upon to do this, the mere fact of its local place of exposition and a general knowledge of its subject will not suffice. As a general rule, these are purely external relations, under which the work as a work of art is less affected. The main point of real importance consists, on the contrary, in this that the artist be sufficiently endowed in artistic sense and general talent to bring into prominence and give form to the varied motives, which such a situation contains, with all the bounty of invention. Every action, in which the ideal world is manifested in that which is external, possesses immediate modes of expression, sensuous results and relations, which, in so far as they are actually the activities of spirit, betray and reflect its emotion, and consequently can be utilized with the greatest advantage as motives which contribute to the intelligibility of the work no less than its individual character. It is, for example, a frequent criticism of the Transfiguration picture of Raphael, that the composition is cut up into two unrelated parts; and this from an _objective_ standpoint is the case. We have the transfiguration on the hill and the incident of the possessed child in the foreground.

From an ideal[315] point of view, however, an association of supreme significance is undoubtedly present. For, on the one hand, the sensuous transfiguration of Christ is just this very exaltation of himself above the earth and his removal from his disciples, a removal which as such separation ought to be made visible; and from a further point of view the majesty of Christ is in this, an actual and particular case, to the highest degree emphasized by the fact that the disciples are unable to heal the possessed child without the assistance of their Master. In this instance, therefore, this twofold action is throughout motived, and the association is enforced before our eyes, both in its external and ideal aspect, by the incident that a disciple expressly points to Christ who is removed from them, and in doing so suggests the profounder truth of the Son of God to be at the same time on Earth, in accordance with the truth of that saying, "If two are gathered together in my name I am in the midst of them." I will give yet another illustration. Goethe on one occasion gave as a subject for a prize exhibition the representation of Achilles in female garments at the coming of Odysseus. In one drawing Achilles glances at the helmet of the armed hero, his heart fires up at the sight, and in consequence of this emotion the pearl necklace is broken which he wears round the neck. A lad seeks for and picks up the pieces from the ground. Such is an example of admirable motive.

Moreover, the artist finds he has to a more or less extent large spaces to fill in; he requires landscape as background, lighting, architectonic surrounding, and he has to introduce incidental figures and objects and so forth. All this material he should apply, in so far as it can be so adapted, as motives in the situation, and bring this external matter into unity with his subject in such a way that it is no longer insignificant. Two princes or patriarchs shake hands. If this is indicative of a peace treaty, and the seal upon the same, warriors, armed bands, and the like, preparations for a sacrifice to solemnize the pact, will be an obviously fitting environment. If such people happen to meet each other with a similar welcome on a journey, other motives will be necessary. To invent the same in a way that attaches real significance and individualization to the action, this it is which more than anything else will test the artistic insight of the painter so far as this aspect of his work is concerned. And in order to promote this not a few artists have also attached symbolical relations between background and the main action. In the composition, for example, of the Adoration of the three Kings, we not unfrequently find the holy Infant in His cradle beneath a ruined roof, around Him the walls of a building falling in decay, and in the background the commencement of a cathedral. The falling stone-work and the rising cathedral directly suggest the victory of the Christian church over paganism[316]. In the same way we find, not unfrequently, in pictures, more especially of the Van Eyck school, which depict the greeting of the angel Gabriel to Mary, flowering lilies like stamens. They indicate the maidenhood of the mother of God.

(_γγ_) Inasmuch as in the _third_ place the art of painting, by virtue of the principle of ideal and external variety, in which it is bound to give clear definition to situations, events, conflicts, and actions, is forced to deal on its way with many kinds of distinction and contradiction in its subject-matter, whether purely natural objects or human figures, and, moreover, receives the task to subdivide this composite content, and create of it one harmonious whole, a way of posing and _grouping_ its figures artistically, becomes one of the most important and necessary claims made upon it. Among the crowd of particular rules and definitions, however, which are applicable to this subject, what we are able to affirm in its most general terms can only be valid in quite a formal way, and I will merely draw attention shortly to a few of the main points.

The earliest mode of composition still remains entirely architectonic, a homogeneous juxtaposition of figures or a regular opposition and symmetrical arrangement, not merely of the figures themselves, but also their posture and movements. We may add that at this stage the pyramidal form of grouping is much in favour. When the subject is the Crucifixion of our Lord such shapes follow as a matter of course.

Christ is suspended on high from the cross, and at the sides we have a group of the disciples, Mary the mother, or saints. In pictures of the Madonna also, in which Mary is seated with her Child on a raised throne, and we find adoring apostles, martyrs, and so forth, beneath them on either side we have a further illustration of this form. Even in the Sistine Madonna picture this mode of grouping is still in its fundamental features retained. And, generally, it brings repose to the eye because the pyramids, by virtue of its apex, makes the otherwise dispersed association coherent, giving an external point of unity to the group[317].

Within the limits, however, of such a generally abstract symmetrical composition, the pose of the figures may be marked in detail by great vividness and individuality, and equally the general expression and movement. The artist, while using in combination the means of his art, will have his several planes, whereby he is able more definitely to emphasize the more important figures as against the others; and he can in addition avail himself of his scheme of lighting and colour. The way he will arrange his groups to arrive at this result is sufficiently obvious. He will not, of course, place his main figures at the sides, or place subordinate ones in positions which are likely to attract the highest attention. And similarly he will throw the strongest light on objects which are part of the most significant content, rather than leave them in shadow, and emphasize with such strong light and the most conspicuous tints objects which are incidental.

In the case he adopts a method of grouping less symmetrical, and thereby more life-like, the artist will have to take especial pains not to make the figures press too closely on each other, which results in a confusion not unfrequently noticeable in certain pictures; we