interest we take in female beauty, -in vernal delights, -in unclouded skies, -is far too lively and too constantly recurring, not to stamp a kindred interest upon the colours that are naturally associated with such objects; and to make us regard with some affection and delight those hues that remind us of them, although we should only meet them upon a fan, or a dressing-box, the lining of a curtain, or the back of a screen. Finally, we beg leave to observe, that all bright and clear colours are naturally typical of cheerfulness and purity of mind, and are hailed as emblems of moral qualities, to which no one can be indifferent.

With regard to ugly colours again, we really are not aware of any to which that epithet can be safely applied. Dull and dingy hues are usually mentioned as in themselves the least pleasing. Yet these are the prevailing tints in many beautiful landscapes, and many admired pictures. They are also the most common colours that are chosen for dress (male dress at least), -for building, -for furniture,-where the consideration of beauty is the only motive for the choice. In fact, the shaded parts of all coloured objects pass into tints of this description: nor can we at present recollect any one colour, which we could specify as in itself disagreeable, without running counter to the feelings and the practice of the great mass of mankind. If the fact, however, were otherwise, and if certain muddy and dull colours were universally allowed to be disagreeable, we should think there could be no difficulty in referring these, too, to natural associations. Darkness, and all that approaches it, is naturally associated with ideas of melancholy, -of helplessness, and danger;—and the gloomy hues that remind us of it, or seem to draw upon it, must share in the same associations. Lurid skies, too, it should be observed, and turbid waters, and unfruitful swamps, and dreary morasses, are the natural and most common wearers of these dismal liveries. It is from these that we first become acquainted with them; and it is needless, therefore, to say, that such objects are necessarily associated with ideas of discomfort, and sadness, and danger; and

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that the colours that remind us of them, can scarcely fail to recal some of the same disagreeable sensations.

Enough, however, and more than enough, has been said about the supposed primitive and independent beauty of separate colours. It is chiefly upon the intrinsic beauty of their mixture or combinations that Mr. Knight and his adherents have insisted;—and it is no doubt quite true, that, among painters and connoisseurs, we hear a great deal about the harmony and composition of tints, and the charms and difficulties of a judicious colouring. In all this, however, we cannot help suspecting that there is no little pedantry, and no little jargon; and that these phrases, when used without reference to the practical difficulties of the art, which must go for nothing in the present question, really mean little more than the true and natural appearance of coloured objects, seen through the same tinted or partially obscure medium that commonly constitutes the atmosphere: and for the actual optical effects of which but few artists know how to make the proper allowance. In nature, we know of no discordant or offensive colouring, except what may be referred to some accident or disaster that spoils the moral or sentimental expression of the scene, and disturbs the associations upon which all its beauty, whether of forms or of hues, seems to us very plainly dependent. We are perfectly aware, that ingenious persons have been disposed to dogmatize and to speculate very confidently upon these subjects; and have had the benefit of seeing various learned treatises upon the natural gamut of colours, and the inherent congruity of those that are called complementary, with reference to the prismatic spectrum. But we confess we have no faith in any of those fancies; and believe, that, if all these colours were fairly arranged on a plain board, according to the most rigid rules of this supposed harmony, nobody, but the author of the theory, would perceive the smallest beauty in the exhibition, or be the least offended by reversing their collocation.

We do not mean, however, to dispute, that the laws

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of colouring, insisted on by learned artists, will produce a more pleasing effect upon trained judges of the art, than a neglect of these laws; because we have little doubt that these combinations of colour are recommended by certain associations, which render them generally pleasing to persons so trained and educated; -all that we maintain is, that there are no combinations that are originally and universally pleasing or displeasing to the eye, independent of such associations; and it seems to us an irresistible proof of this, that these laws of harmonious colouring are perpetually and deliberately violated by great multitudes of persons, who not only have the perfect use of their sight, but are actually bestowing great pains and expense in providing for its gratification, in the very act of this violation. The Dutch trader, who paints over the outside of his countryhouse with as many bright colours as are to be found in his tulip-bed, and garnishes his green shutters with blue facings, and his purple roof with lilac ridges, not only sees as well as the studied colourist, who shudders at the exhibition, but actually receives as much pleasure, and as strong an impression of beauty, from the finished lusthaus, as the artist does from one of his best pictures. It is impossible, then, that these combinations of colours can be naturally or intrinsically offensive to the organ of sight; and their beauty or ugliness must depend upon the associations which different individuals may have happened to form with regard to them. We contend, however, for nothing more; and are quite willing to allow that the associations which recommend his staring tawdriness to the burgomaster, are such as could not easily have been formed in the mind of a diligent and extensive observer of nature, and that they would probably be reversed by habits of reflection and study. But the same thing, it is obvious, may be said of the notions of beauty of any other description that prevail among the rude, the inexperienced, and uninstructed;-though, in all other instances, we take it for granted, that the beauty which is perceived depends altogether upon as

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REASONS FOR THIS DENIAL.

sociation, and in no degree on its power of giving a pleasurable impulse to the organ to which it addresses itself. If any considerable number of persons, with the perfect use of sight, actually take pleasure in certain combinations of colours,-that is complete proof that such combinations are not naturally offensive to the organ of sight, and that the pleasure of such persons, exactly like that of those who disagree with them, is derived not from the sense, but from associations with its perceptions.

With regard, again, to the effect of broken masses of light and shadow, it is proper, in the first place, to remember, that by the eye we see colour only; and that lights and shadows, as far as the mere organ is concerned, mean nothing but variations of tint. It is It is very true, no doubt, that we soon learn to refer many of those variations to light and shade, and that they thus become signs to us of depth, and distance, and relief. But, is not this, of itself, sufficient to refute the idea of their affording any primitive or organic pleasure? In so far as they are mere variations of tints, they may be imitated by unmeaning daubs of paint on a pallet;-in so far as they are signs, it is to the mind that they address themselves, and not to the organ. They are signs, too, it should be recollected, and the only signs we have, by which we can receive any correct knowledge of the existence and condition of all external objects at a distance from us, whether interesting or not interesting. Without the assistance of variety of tint, and of lights and shadows, we could never distinguish one object from another, except by the touch. These appearances, therefore, are the perpetual vehicles of almost all our interesting perceptions; and are consequently associated with all the emotions we receive from visible objects. It is pleasant to see many things in one prospect, because some of them are probably agreeable; and it is pleasant to know the relations of those things, because the qualities or associations, by means of which they interest us, generally depend upon that knowledge. The mixture of colours and shades, however, is neces

PICTURES OF UNPLEASING OBJECTS.

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sary to this enjoyment, and consequently is a sign of it, and a source of associated interest or beauty.

Mr. Knight, however, goes much farther than this; and maintains, that the beauty which is so distinctly felt in many pictures of objects in themselves disagreeable, is to be ascribed entirely to the effect of the brilliant and harmonious tints, and the masses of light and shadow that may be employed in the representation. The filthy and tattered rags of a beggar, he observes, and the putrifying contents of a dunghill, may form beautiful objects in a picture; because, considered as mere objects of sight, they may often present beautiful effects of colouring and shadow; and these are preserved or heightened in the imitation, disjoined from all their offensive accompaniments. Now, if the tints and shades were the exclusive sources of our gratification, and if this gratification was diminished, instead of being heightened, by the suggestion which, however transiently, must still intrude itself, that they appeared in an imitation of disgusting objects, it must certainly follow, that the pleasure and the beauty would be much enhanced if there was no imitation of any thing whatever, and if the canvas merely presented the tints and shades, unaccompanied with the representation of any particular object. It is perfectly obvious, however, that it would be absurd to call such a collection of coloured spots a beautiful picture; and that a man would be laughed at who should hang up such a piece of stained canvas among the works of the great artists. Again, if it were really possible for any one, but a student of art, to confine the attention to the mere colouring and shadowing of any picture, there is nothing so disgusting but what might form the subject of a beautiful imitation. A piece of putrid veal, or a cancerous ulcer, or the rags that are taken from it, may display the most brilliant tints, and the finest distribution of light and shadow. Does Mr. Knight, however, seriously think, that either of these experiments would succeed? Or are there, in reality, no other qualities in the pictures in question, to which their beauty can be ascribed, but the organic