HE cons the tender tale again,— Have taught unbidden tears to flow: Winter's Tale. She cannot, if she would, repress! In bands that death alone may part, So deems this life a Tragedy Of intermittent good and ill; A chequered sky, a troubled sea, Sad Fiction's soft embodiment, Until she half believes it sooth; In stole arrayed of nun-like state, Sweet sisters! fair antitheses! Bright contrasts of the grave and gay! VOL. I.-NO. III. 258 THE NEW PICTURE AND THE NEW PROCESS. APART even from its merits as a work of art, the picture of 'The Meeting of Wellington and Blucher after the Battle of Waterloo,' which Mr. Maclise has just completed in the Royal Gallery of the New Palace at Westminster, has, as it seems to us, claims to a more respectful consideration than is usually given to such works. With the exception of Mr. Watts's fresco in the Hall of Lincoln's Inn, it is the largest mural painting executed in England in the present century; and it greatly exceeds the Lincoln's Inn fresco in the amount of labour bestowed upon it. It is painted in a material new to English artists. It is one of the first attempts made in this country to paint contemporaneous history on a large scale with a strict regard to historical truth; and it is the result of years of almost undivided and laborious application on the part of one of our most esteemed painters. Before speaking of the picture it may be well to notice the process. The new picture is commonly designated a fresco. It is really a waterglass painting. Between the two methods there is this in common, that the painting is executed on a ground composed of lime and sand (technically intonaco); but there the resemblance ceases. In fresco the intonaco must be painted on whilst it is still moist (whence, indeed, the name, fresco, Ital. 'fresh'). Consequently only so much of the ground can be spread in the morning as the artist can paint over during the day. For each day's work there must be laid down a fresh portion of intonaco. This, of course, necessitates as many joinings as the work has occupied days; and as the chief value of fresco lies in its adaptation to mural painting, where usually a large space has to be covered, the joinings will probably be very numerous. Mr. Maclise has, for example, on a careful computation (and throwing out of the reckoning Sundays and holidays) been engaged a year and a half of days on the actual painting of this picture, which, therefore, if a fresco, must To have had at least five hundred and Another condition imposed by the necessity of painting in fresco upon the moist surface is, that the painter must complete his work at once. Fresco allows of no change or modification. If any error be detected, the part must be removed, a new coat of plaster be spread, and the section be repainted. Hence the necessity of a fac-simile cartoon, the size of the picture, being previously prepared. And just as Raffaelle's famous Cartoons were copied by the tapestry workers at Arras, might the finished cartoon for a fresco be copied on the intonaco by any one else almost as well as by the designer. In fact, this is what is commonly done in the case of the much-vaunted frescoes of Germany. Cornelius or Kaulbach makes the cartoon, but the actual painting on the wall is left to scholars or assistants. Waterglass painting, on the other hand, permits the freest use of the artist's individuality. He may admit or reject as much or little as he pleases of his original design; correct what is erroneous; avail himself as he goes on of advice or criticism; paint directly from his model; or what, if he be a really great painter, is best of all, follow the promptings of his genius as he works there with his mind full of his subject, and all his heart and energy concentrated upon it. Those who saw Mr. Maclise's cartoon, when exhibited in the Royal Gallery about two years ago, will remember what a magnificent drawing it was; and, noticing a broad general resemblance in the completed picture, will not suspect probably that there has been any material deviation. But, in fact, Mr. Maclise has been able to make, without difficulty, alterations of every description, and, thereby, from the great amount of information proffered during its progress, to increase materially its historical accuracy · а matter of primary importance in a work of this order. Again-not to multiply illustrations which will occur to every one who has handled a pencil or who will reflect for a moment on the subject from the causticity of fresh lime, fresco allows the use of only a limited palette; the colours change considerably in drying, and they cannot be safely modified by the superposition of tints. The painter in water-glass may, however, use nearly the entire range of colours. When dry his colours appear the same as when first applied, or rather as when obtained in powder from the colourman; and the process admits of any amount of working upon the first painting that the taste or manner of the artist may lead him to desire. The one process, in fact, is hard, exacting, unyielding, and at the same time limited in range; the other free, elastic, admitting of the application of any style or method, and as open to the transient play of genius as to the most studied academic propriety. Water-glass painting, in a word, seems to offer all the advantages of fresco for mural decoration with special capabilities of its own. And now, it may be asked, what is water-glass painting? Well, apart from technicalities, and without reference to working details, the explanation may be given in a word: waterglass painting (or stereochromy as the Germans call it) is, as Mr. Maclise has well expressed it, precisely water-colour painting in its purest form. Ordinary water-colours require water and gum at least, and there is usually added honey or some other material that facilitates working or serves to add a factitious lustre to the pigments. In waterglass painting no vehicle whatever is employed save distilled water. The painting is performed by thin washes of colour, which, as has been mentioned, may be modified by the superposition of other colours. When the painting is finished it is 'fixed' by being washed over with the waterglass (soluble silicate of potash diluted) in the manner of a varnish; but which, unlike varnish, leaves the surface free from gloss. The German painters at first used the water-glass as a vehicle to mix with the colours, and Mr. Maclise tried that method, but found that the brush quickly became stiffened, and that anything like freedom of handling was impracticable. With the other method he is, after the experience of his great picture, quite satisfied. The question, however, remains, Is it permanent? The rumours of the rapid deterioration of the frescoes already painted in the New Palace may well suggest such an inquiry. As far as can be ascertained from experience and experiments, waterglass painting promises to be, not only more permanent than fresco, but more permanent than any other method of painting now practised. The silicate of potash is absorbed into the intonaco and enters into chemical combination with it, leaving the paint a mere pellicle on the surface, protected by what is, in fact, an extremely thin coating of glass. Should it be found, in course of time, that the potash effloresces, or that the sulphuric acid in the London atmosphere has acted on the waterglass, it seems to us that there would be no practical difficulty in cleaning the surface of the picture and covering it with a new coating of the silicate; and this, if carefully done, might of course be repeated as often as necessary. In Munich, and elsewhere in Germany, there are water glass paintings which have stood from fifteen to twenty years without showing any symptoms of deterioration; whilst frescoes of the same age, and placed under the same circumstances, are materially injured. Kaulbach has given up fresco painting on account of the altered appearance of the frescoes painted by him. His great pictures at Nuremburg and Berlin are executed in waterglass, of which he is a warm advocate. It was, as we have understood, his dissatisfaction with the state of the recently-painted frescoes that led Mr. Maclise to turn his attention to the new process. He had received the commission to paint this large picture in fresco, but he felt that our modern frescoes were not satisfactory, and he made a journey to Italy in order to examine the old frescoes, and ascertain, if he could, whether the failure was not due rather to the modern method than to the process itself. The result was far from encouraging. He turned his thoughts to the waterglass process, and made numerous trials of it. Still dissatisfied, he resolved to go to Germany and compare the two processes in actual operation. What he saw convinced him of the superiority of the new process. He mastered the technical difficulties connected with it, and, after acquiring facility by means of many trial-pictures and experiments, commenced the painting. We have now the completed work, and, if in no other respect, it will at once be acknowledged to be in this thoroughly satisfactory. There are in it a force and depth of colour, a richness and variety of surface, a playfulness of handling, a refinement and finish, such as are never seen in fresco, and, indeed, are incompatible with its conditions. So much for the process. Let us now look at the picture. The meeting of Wellington and Blucher occurred, it will be remembered, about nine o'clock in the evening, after the general and decisive advance of the allied army, and when the enemy were beaten at all points. The place of meeting was the cabaret named 'La Belle Alliance,' in and around which there had been fierce fighting during the day, and which had at the last formed the centre of the French position. There was little time for more than a hurried greeting between the two commanders, and a few words settling clearly the course to be taken that the defeat might, if possible, be rendered final and irreparable. The meeting was thus in itself one of serious import, and it was one marked out emphatically for pictorial representation on a worthy scale. It was the symbol and the consummation of the crowning victory of the great struggle on which depended the destinies of Europe. In it were concentrated at once the story of the past and a clear indication of the future. Something like this the painter has evidently felt. Plainly as a picture can does this enable you to read the story of the meeting at a glance: to read it, that is, as to its general purpose, but supplying by many broad indications, as well as refined subtleties of thought and expression, a deeper meaning, and along with all an infinite accumulation of secondary and subservient facts and suggestions which repeated examinations do not exhaust. The picture occupies a panel on the right wall of the Royal Gallery, forty-six feet long and twelve high, the base line being eight feet from the ground. It contains fifty or sixty figures, those of the principal personages being about life-size, while those in the immediate foreground are much larger. From its size, shape, and position the eye cannot easily embrace the whole of the picture at once; and the artist has evidently taken this condition into account. Obviously a work like this, occupying so important a place in the palace of the legislature, should be monumental in character. The painter has made it so; but, attentive to its size and shape, he seems to have had in his mind a sculpturesque mode of treatment—to have regarded it in fact, if such an expression may be allowed, as a grand pictorial rilievo. And being monumental, he has determined to adhere strictly to historical truth. Of all the heroes of that day |