BY the beauty of colouring, the painters mean that
disposition of colours on objects, together with their
proper shades, which appear at the same time both
distinctly varied and artfully united, in compositions of
any kind; but, by way of pre-eminence, it is generally
understood of flesh-colour, when no other composition
is named.
To avoid confusion, and having already said enough
of retiring shades, I shall now only describe the nature
and effect of the prime tint of flesh; for the composi-
tion of this, when rightly understood, comprehends
every thing that can be said of the colouring of all other
objects whatever.
And herein (as has been shewn in chap. 8,. Of the
manner of composing pleasing forms) the whole process
will depend upon the art of varying; i.e. upon an art-
ful manner of varying every colour belonging to flesh,
under the direction of the six fundamental principles
there spoken of.
But before we proceed to shew in what manner
these principles conduce to this design, we shall take a
view of nature's curious ways of producing all sorts of
complexions, which may help to further our conception
of the principles of varying colours, so as to see why
they cause the effect of beauty.

Q I.It

[114]

1. It is well known, the fair young girl, the brown
old man, and the negro; nay, all mankind, have the
same appearance, and are alike disagreeable to the eye,
when the upper skin is taken away: now to conceal so
disagreeable an object, and to produce that variety of
complexions seen in the world, nature hath contrived a
transparent skin, called the cuticula, with a lining to it
of a very extraordinary kind, called the cutis; both
which are so thin any little scald will make them blister
and peel off. These adhering skins are more or less
transparent in some parts of the body than in others,
and likewise different in different persons. The cuti-
cula alone is like gold-beaters-skin, a little wet, but
somewhat thinner, especially in fair young people,
which would shew the fat, lean, and all the blood-
vessels, just as they lie under it, as through Isinglass,
were it not for its lining the cutis, which is so curiously
constructed, as to exhibit those things beneath it which
are necessary to life and motion, in pleasing arangements
and dispositions of beauty.
The cutis is composed of tender threads like net-
work, fill'd with different colour'd juices. The white
juice serves to make the very fair complexion; --yellow,
makes the brunnet; ---- brownish yellow, the ruddy
brown; ---green yellow, the olive; ---dark brown, the
mulatto; --black, the negro; --These different colour'd
juices, together with the different mashes of the network,
and the size of its threads in this or that part, causes the
variety of complexions.

A


[115]

A description of this manner of its shewing the rosy
Colour of the cheek, and, in like manner, the bluish
Tints about the temple, &c. see in the profile*, where
You are to suppose the black strokes of the print to be
The white threads of the network, and where the strokes
Are thickest, and the part blackest, you are to suppose
The flesh would be whitest; so that the lighter part of
It stands for the vermilion-colour of the cheek, gra-
dating every way.
Some persons have the network so equally wove over
the whole body, face and all, that the greatest heat or
cold will hardly make them change their colour; and
these are seldom seen to blush, tho' ever so bashful,
whilst the texture is so fine in some young women, that
they redden, or turn pale, on the least occasion.
I am apt to think the texture of this network is of
a very tender kind, subject to damage many ways, but
able to recover itself again, especially in youth. The
fair fat healthy child of 3 or 4 years old hath it in
great perfection; most visible when it is moderately
warm, but till that age somewhat imperfect.
It is in this manner, then, that nature seems to do
Her work. ---- And now let us see how by art the like
appearance may be made and penciled on the surface
of an uniform coloured statue of wax or marble; by
describing which operation we shall still more particu-
larly point out what is to our present purpose: I mean
the reason why the order nature hath thus made use of

Q 2 should

* Fig. 95.
T. p. 2.


[116]

should strike us with the idea of beauty; which by the
way, perhaps may be of more use to some painters than
they will care to own.
There are but three original colours in painting be-
sides black and white, viz. Red, yellow and blue.
Green, and purple, are compounded; the first of blue and
yellow, the latter of red and blue; however these com-
pounds being so distinctly different from the original
colours we will rank them as such. Fig.* represents
mixt up, as on a painter's pallet, scales of these five ori-
ginal colours divided into seven classes, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
6, 7. ---4, is the medium, and most brilliant class, being
that which will appear a firm red, when those of 5, 6,
7, would deviate into white, and those of 1, 2, 3,
would sink into black, either by twilight or at a mo-
derate distance from the eye, which shews 4 to be
brightest, and a more permanent colour than the rest.
But as white is nearest to light it may be said to be
equal if not superior in value as to beauty, with class 4.
therefore the classes 5, 6, 7, have also, almost equal
beauty with it too, because what they lose of their bril-
iancy and permanency of colour, they gain from the
white or light; whereas 3, 2, 1, absolutely lose their
beauty by degrees as they approach nearer to black, the
representative of darkness.
Let us then, for distinction and pre-eminence sake,
call class 4 of each colour, bloom tints, or if you please,
virgin tints, as the painters call them; and once more

recollect

* Fig. 94.
T. p. 2.

[117]

recollect, that in the disposition of colours as well as of
forms, variety, simplicity, distinctness, intricacy, uni-
formity and quantity, direct in giving beauty to the co-
louring of the human frame, especially if we include
the face, where uniformity and strong opposition of tints
are required, as in the eyes and mouth, which call most
for our attention. But for the general hue of flesh
now to be described, variety, intricacy and simplicity,
are chiefly required.
The value of the degrees of colour being thus con-
sider'd and ranged in order upon the pallet, figure 94,
let us next apply them to a busto, fig.*, of white
marble, which may be supposed to let every tint sink
into it , like as a drop of ink sinks in and spreads itself
upon course paper, whereby each tint will gradate all
around.
If you would have the neck of the busto tinged of a
very florid and lively complexion, the pencil must be
dipt in the bloom tints of each colour as they stand one
above another at No. 4 --- if for a less florid, in those of
No.5 --- if for a very fair, from No. 6 --- and so on till
the marble would scarce be ting'd at all: let therefore
No. 6, be our present choice, and begin with penciling
on the red, as at r, the yellow tint at y, the blue tint at
b, and the purple or lake tint at p.
These four tints thus laid on, proceed to covering the
whole neck and breast, but still changing and varying
the situations of the tints with one another, also causing

their


† Fig. 96.
R. p. 2.

[118]

their shapes and sizes to differ as much as possible; red
must be oftenest repeated, yellow next often, purple
red next, and blue but seldom, except in particular parts
as the temples, backs of the hands, &c. where the larger
veins shew their branching shapes (sometimes too dis-
tinctly) still varying those appearances. But there are
no doubt infinite variations in nature from what may
be called the most beautiful order and disposition of the
colours in flesh, not only in different persons, but in
different parts of the same, all subject tot he same prin-
ciples in some degree or other.
Now if we imagine this whole process to be made
with the tender tints of class 7, as they are supposed to
stand, red, yellow, blue, green and purple, underneath
each other; the general hue of the performance will be
a seeming uniform prime tint, at any little distance, that
is a very fair, transparent and pearl-like complexion;

but

1. Notwithstanding the deep-rooted notion, even amongst the majority
of painters themselves, that time is a great improver of good pictures, I
will undertake to shew, that nothing can be more absurd. Having men-
tion'd above the whole effect of the oil, let us now see in what manner
time operates on the colours themselves; in order to discover if any
changes in them can give a picture more union and harmony than has
been in the power of a skilful master, with all his rules of art, to do.
When colour changes at all it must be somewhat in the manner follow-
ing, for as they are made some of metal, some of earth, some of stone, and
others of more perishable materials, time cannot operate on them other-
wise than as by daily experience we find it doth, which is, that one
changes darker, another lighter, one quite to a different colour, whilst
another, as ultramarine, will keep its natural brightness even in the fire.
There

[119]

but never quite uniform as snow; ivory, marble or wax,
like a poet's mistress, for either of these in living-flesh,
would in truth be hideous.
As in nature, by the general yellowish hue of the
cuticula, the gradating of one colour into another ap-
pears to be more delicately soften'd and united toge-
ther; so will the colours we are supposed to have been
laying upon the busto, appear to be more united and
mellowed by the oils they are ground in, which takes
a yellowish cast after a little time, but is apt to do more
mischief hereby than good; for which reason care is
taken to procure such oil as is clearest and will best
keep its colour 1 in oil-painting.
Upon the whole of this account we find, that the ut-
most beauty of colouring depends on the great principle of
varying by all the means of varying, and on the proper
and artful union of that variety; which may be farther

proved

Therefore how is it possible that such different materials, even variously
changing (visibly after a certain time)should accidentally coincide with
the artist's intention, and bring about the greater harmony of the piece,
when it is manifestly contrary to their nature, for do we not see in most
collections that much time disunites, untunes, blackens, and by degrees
destroys even the best preserved pictures.
But if for argument sake we suppose, that the colours were to fall
equally together, let us see what advantage this would give to any sort
of composition. We will begin with a flower-piece: when a master hath
painted a rose, a lily, an african, a gentianella, or violet, with his best
art and brightest colours, how far short do they fall of the freshness and
rich brilliancy of nature; and shall we wish to see them fall still lower,
more faint, sullied, and dirtied by the hand of time, and then admire
them

[120]

Proved by supposing the rules here laid down, all or
any part of them reversed.
I am apt to believe, that the not knowing nature's
artful, and intricate method of uniting colours for the
production of the variegated composition, or prime tint of
flesh, hath made colouring, in the art of painting, a kind
of mystery in all ages; insomuch, that it may fairly be
said, out of the many thousands who have labour'd to

attain

them as having gained an additional beauty, and call them mended and
heightened, rather than fouled, and in a manner destroy'd; how absurd!
instead of mellow and softened therefore, always read yellow and sullied,
for this is doing time the destroyer, but common justice. Or shall we
desire to see complexions, which in life are often, literally, as brilliant as the
flowers above-mention'd, served in the like ungrateful manner. In a
landskip, will the water be more transparent, or the sky shine with a greater
lustre when embrown'd and darken'd by decay? surely no. I own it
would be a pity that Mr. Addison's beautiful description of time at
work in the gallery of pictures, and the following lines of Mr. Dryden,
should want a sufficient foundation; ----
For time shall with his ready pencil stand,
Retouch your figures with his ripening hand;
Mellow your colours, and imbrown the tint;
Add every grace which time alone can grant;
To future ages shall your fame convey,
And give more beauties than he takes away. Dryden to Kneller
were it not that the error they are built upon, hath been a continual blight
to the growth of the art, by misguiding both the proficient, and the en-
courager; and often compelling the former, contrary to his judgment, to
imitate the damaged hue of decayed pictures; so that when his works un-
dergo the like injuries, they must have a double remove from nature;
which puts it in the power of the meanest observer to see his deficiencies.
Whence another absurd notion hath taken rise, viz. That the colours now-
a-days do not stand so well as formerly; whereas colours well prepared,

in


[121]

attain it, not above ten or twelve painters have happily
succeeded therein, Corregio (who lived in a country-
village, and had nothing but the life to study after) is
said almost to have stood alone for this particular ex-
cellence. Guido, who made beauty his chief aim, was
always at a loss about it. Poussin scarce ever obtained
a glimpse of it, as is manifest by his many different at-
tempts: indeed France hath not produced one remark-
able good colourist 2.

in which there is but little art or expence, have, and will always have,
the same properties in every age, and without accidents, as damps, bad
varnish, and the like, (being laid separate and pure,) will stand and keep
together for many yeares in defiance of time itself.
In proof of this, let any one take a view of the ceiling at Greenwich-
hospital, painted by Sir James Thornhill, forty years ago, which still
remains fresh, strong and clear as if it had been finished but yesterday:
and altho' several french writers have so learnedly, and philosophically
proved, that the air of this island is too thick, or -- too something, for
the genius of a painter, yet France in all her palaces can hardly boast of
a nobler, more judicious, or richer performance of its kind. Note, the
upper end of the hall where the royal family is painted, was left chiefly
to the pencil of Mr. Andrea a foreigner, after the payment originally
agreed upon for the work was so much reduced, as made it not worth
Sir James's while to finish the whole with his own more masterly hand.
2. The lame excuse writers on painting have made for the many great
masters that have fail'd in this particular, is, that they purposely
deaden'd their colours, and kept them, what they affectedly call'd chaste,
that the correctness of their outlines might be seen to greater advantage.
Whereas colours cannot be too brillant if properly disposed, because the
distinction of the many parts are thereby made more perfect; as may be seen
by comparing a marble busto with the variegated colours of the face
either in the life, or one well painted: it is true, uncomposed variety,
either in features or the limbs, as being daubed with many, or one
colour, will so confound the parts as to render them unintelligible.

R Rubens

[122]

Rubens boldly, and in a masterly manner, kept his
bloom tints bright, separate and distinct, but sometimes
too much so for easel or cabinet pictures; however,
his manner was admirably well calculated for great
works, to be seen at a considerable distance, such as his
celebrated ceiling at Whitehall-chapel 1: which upon a
nearer view, will illustrate what I have advanc'd with
regard to the separate brightness of the tints; and
shew, what indeed is known to every painter, that had
the colours there seen so bright and separate, been all
smooth'd and absolutely blended together, they would
have produced a dirty grey instead of flesh-colour.
The difficulty then lies in bringing blue the third ori-
ginal colour, into flesh, on account of the vast variety
introduced thereby; and this omitted, all the difficulty
ceases; and a common sign-painter that lays his colours
smooth, instantly becomes, in point of colouring, a
Rubens, a Titian, or a Corregio.