diff options
Diffstat (limited to '30325-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/30325-h.htm | 8635 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img005.jpg | bin | 0 -> 10750 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img009.jpg | bin | 0 -> 6540 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img014.jpg | bin | 0 -> 10101 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img017.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42493 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img025.jpg | bin | 0 -> 58086 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img043.jpg | bin | 0 -> 22710 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img044.jpg | bin | 0 -> 8807 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img045.jpg | bin | 0 -> 27917 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img047.jpg | bin | 0 -> 9075 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img055.jpg | bin | 0 -> 59557 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img056.jpg | bin | 0 -> 53616 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img058.jpg | bin | 0 -> 2403 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img060.jpg | bin | 0 -> 94782 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img061.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43972 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img062.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51170 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img063.jpg | bin | 0 -> 97583 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img067.jpg | bin | 0 -> 10144 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img068a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 6828 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img068b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 9696 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img070.jpg | bin | 0 -> 107966 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img080.jpg | bin | 0 -> 32812 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img081.jpg | bin | 0 -> 12551 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img088.jpg | bin | 0 -> 2487 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img089a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 30197 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img089b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 16745 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img095.jpg | bin | 0 -> 36837 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img096.jpg | bin | 0 -> 18829 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img097.jpg | bin | 0 -> 19627 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img115.jpg | bin | 0 -> 5045 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img131.jpg | bin | 0 -> 22896 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img135.jpg | bin | 0 -> 7154 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img136a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 15419 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img136b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 26592 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img137.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51131 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img141.jpg | bin | 0 -> 79167 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img145.jpg | bin | 0 -> 54079 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img147.jpg | bin | 0 -> 54218 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img148.jpg | bin | 0 -> 3388 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img149a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 7716 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img149b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 21380 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img150a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 10485 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img150b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 7075 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img152a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 13520 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img152b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 7387 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img153a.jpg | bin | 0 -> 9180 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img153b.jpg | bin | 0 -> 9638 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img154.jpg | bin | 0 -> 12413 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img155.jpg | bin | 0 -> 14483 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img157.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42844 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 30325-h/images/img164.jpg | bin | 0 -> 44838 bytes |
51 files changed, 8635 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/30325-h/30325-h.htm b/30325-h/30325-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da9fa74 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/30325-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8635 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Elements of Drawing, by John Ruskin</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body { margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.2em; /*color: black; background-color: #f5f5f5*/} + p { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 1em; } + p.noind { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 0; } + + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + h1.pg { line-height: 1.2em; } + hr { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 70%; height: 5px; color: #dcdcdc; background-color: #dcdcdc; text-align: center; } + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 2em; width: 20%; height: 1px; color: #778899; background-color: #778899; } + hr.long { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 60%; height: 1px; color: #778899; background-color: #778899; } + hr.art { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 40%; height: 5px; color: #778899; background-color: #778899; + margin-top: 6em; margin-bottom: 1.5em } + hr.foot { margin-left: 2em; width: 16%; background-color: black; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0; height: 1px; } + + table.allbnomar { border : 1px solid black; border-collapse: collapse; } + table.allb { border : 1px solid black; border-collapse: collapse; margin-left: 4em } + table.allbctr { border : 1px solid black; border-collapse: collapse; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } + table.nob { margin-left: 4em } + table.nobctr { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } + + td.allb { border : 1px solid black; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; } + td.allbw { text-align: left; white-space: nowrap; + border : 1px solid black; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; } + + td.allbr2 { border-left : 1px solid black; border-top : 1px solid black; border-bottom : thin solid black; + border-right : medium double black; border-right : medium double black; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; } + td.caption { font-size: 0.8em; text-align: center; padding-bottom: 1.5em; } + td.spac { padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; } + .rsp { padding-left: 1em; text-align: right; } + .rsp1 { padding-left: 5em; text-align: right; } + .cen { padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; } + .lsp { padding-left: 1em; text-align: left; } + .lsp4 { padding-left: 4em; text-align: left; } + .pd { padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em; } + td.nspac { padding-left: 0em; padding-right: 0em; } + td.nob { padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; } + + table p { margin: 0;} + + a:link, a:visited, link {text-decoration:none} + + .author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 1em;} + .center {text-align: center; } + .cenhead {text-align: center; margin-top: 1em;} + .right {text-align: right; } + .chapter {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em; } + .t {vertical-align: top; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; } + .tr {vertical-align: top;} + .tc {vertical-align: top;} + .b {vertical-align: bottom; } + + sup {font-style: normal; font-size: 0.8em;} + sub {font-style: normal; font-size: 0.7em;} + .sp {position: relative; bottom: 0.5em; font-size: 0.7em;} + .su {position: relative; top: 0.3em; font-size: 0.7em;} + + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; right: 4%; text-align: right; font-size: 9pt; font-style: normal; color: #708090; + background-color: #f5f5f5; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; text-indent: 0;} + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; font-size: 0.9em; } + span.correction {border-bottom: 1px dashed red;} + span.small {font-size:small;} + span.intlim {font-size:small; position:relative; top:-2ex; left:-0.4em;} + span.lower {position:relative; top:0.5ex;} + span.bq {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; } + span.spc { padding-left: 2em; } + span.spc1 { padding-left: 1em; } + .poemq {margin-left: 15%; text-indent: -0.3em; } + .poemq1 {margin-left: 15%; text-indent: -0.5em; font-size: 0.9em; } + .title1 {padding-top: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 1.5em; text-align: center; font-size: 75%; } + .title2 {padding-bottom: 1.5em; text-align: center; } + .title3 {padding-top: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 1.5em; text-align: center; } + .title4 {padding-left: 2em; padding-top: 1.5em; } + + .figcenter {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; margin-top: 1em;} + .figcenter1 {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 1.5em; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; } + .figright1 { padding-right: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.5em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-top: 1.5em; margin: 0px; text-align: center } + .figleft1 { padding-right: 1.5em; padding-left: 0.5em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-top: 1.5em; margin: 0px; text-align: center } + img.middle { border: none; vertical-align: middle } + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30325 ***</div> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Elements of Drawing, by John Ruskin</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #dcdcdc; color: #696969; " summary="Transcriber's note"> +<tr> +<td style="width:25%; vertical-align:top"> +Transcriber's note: +</td> +<td class="norm"> +One typographical error has been corrected. It +appears in the text <span class="correction" title="explanation will pop up">like this</span>, and the +explanation will appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the marked +passage. <br /><br /></td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td> +<td class="norm"> +<a href="#error1">Error #1</a>: Page 58: 'Thus, the outline a and the outline d.' 'd' replaced by 'b.'<br /></td></tr> + +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> + + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<table class="allbctr" style="width: 60%; " summary="Front page"> +<tr> <td class="pd" style="border-bottom: black 1px solid; " colspan="2"><h5>Library Edition</h5> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="padding-top: 3em; " colspan="2"><h3>THE COMPLETE WORKS</h3> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td colspan="2"><h6>OF</h6> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="padding-bottom: 5em; " colspan="2"><h2>JOHN RUSKIN</h2> </td> </tr> + + +<tr> <td style="padding-bottom: 5em; " colspan="2"><h5>ELEMENTS OF DRAWING AND<br /> +PERSPECTIVE<br /> +THE TWO PATHS<br /> +UNTO THIS LAST<br /> +MUNERA PULVERIS<br /> +SESAME AND LILIES<br /> +ETHICS OF THE DUST</h5> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="border-top: black 1px solid; padding-top: 1.5em; " colspan="2"><h3>NATIONAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION</h3> </td> </tr> +<tr> <td><h3 style="text-align: left; padding-left: 3em; ">NEW YORK</h3></td> + <td><h3 style="text-align: right; padding-right: 3em; ">CHICAGO</h3></td> </tr> +</table> + + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> + + + +<h3>THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING</h3> +<h6>IN</h6> +<h5>THREE LETTERS TO BEGINNERS.</h5> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> +<tr> <td> </td> + <td class="rsp"><span class="sc">page</span> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">Preface</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#pageix">ix</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">LETTER I. </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">On First Practice</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page001">1</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">LETTER II. </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">Sketching from Nature</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page065">65</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">LETTER III. </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">On Color and Composition</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page106">106</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2"><hr class="short" /> </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">APPENDIX I. </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">Illustrative Notes</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page183">183</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">APPENDIX II. </td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><span class="sc">Things to be Studied</span> </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page188">188</a> </td> </tr> + +</table> + + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<div style="font-size: 0.8em; "> +<p>["The Elements of Drawing" was written during the winter of 1856. +The First Edition was published in 1857; the Second followed in the same +year, with some additions and slight alterations. The Third Edition consisted +of sixth thousand, 1859; seventh thousand, 1860; and eighth thousand, +1861.</p> + +<p>The work was partly reproduced in "Our Sketching Club," by the +Rev. R. St. John Tyrwhitt, M.A., 1874; with new editions in 1875, 1882, +and 1886.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ruskin meant, during his tenure of the Slade Professorship at +Oxford, to recast his teaching, and to write a systematic manual for the +use of his Drawing School, under the title of "The Laws of Fésole." Of +this only vol. i. was completed, 1879; second edition, 1882.</p> + +<p>As, therefore, "The Elements of Drawing" has never been completely +superseded, and as many readers of Mr. Ruskin's works have expressed a +desire to possess the book in its old form, it is now reprinted as it stood +in 1859.]</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>ADVERTISEMENT</h3> + +<h5>TO</h5> + +<h3>THE SECOND EDITION.</h3> + + +<p>As one or two questions, asked of me since the publication +of this work, have indicated points requiring elucidation, I +have added a few short notes in the first Appendix. It is +not, I think, desirable otherwise to modify the form or add +to the matter of a book as it passes through successive editions; +I have, therefore, only mended the wording of some +obscure sentences; with which exception the text remains, +and will remain, in its original form, which I had carefully +considered. Should the public find the book useful, and +call for further editions of it, such additional notes as may +be necessary will be always placed in the first Appendix, +where they can be at once referred to, in any library, by the +possessors of the earlier editions; and I will take care they +shall not be numerous.</p> + +<p><i>August 3, 1857.</i></p> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pageix"></a>ix</span></p> + +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> + + +<p>i. It may perhaps be thought, that in prefacing a manual +of drawing, I ought to expatiate on the reasons why drawing +should be learned; but those reasons appear to me so many +and so weighty, that I cannot quickly state or enforce them. +With the reader's permission, as this volume is too large already, +I will waive all discussion respecting the importance +of the subject, and touch only on those points which may +appear questionable in the method of its treatment.</p> + +<p>ii. In the first place, the book is not calculated for the use +of children under the age of twelve or fourteen. I do not +think it advisable to engage a child in any but the most voluntary +practice of art. If it has talent for drawing, it will +be continually scrawling on what paper it can get; and should +be allowed to scrawl at its own free will, due praise being +given for every appearance of care, or truth, in its efforts. +It should be allowed to amuse itself with cheap colors almost +as soon as it has sense enough to wish for them. If it merely +daubs the paper with shapeless stains, the color-box may be +taken away till it knows better: but as soon as it begins painting +red coats on soldiers, striped flags to ships, etc., it should +have colors at command; and, without restraining its choice +of subject in that imaginative and historical art, of a military +tendency, which children delight in, (generally quite +as valuable, by the way, as any historical art delighted in by +their elders,) it should be gently led by the parents to try to +draw, in such childish fashion as may be, the things it can +see and likes,—birds, or butterflies, or flowers, or fruit.</p> + +<p>iii. In later years, the indulgence of using the color should +only be granted as a reward, after it has shown care and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagex"></a>x</span> +progress in its drawings with pencil. A limited number of +good and amusing prints should always be within a boy's +reach: in these days of cheap illustration he can hardly possess +a volume of nursery tales without good wood-cuts in it, +and should be encouraged to copy what he likes best of this +kind; but should be firmly restricted to a <i>few</i> prints and to +a few books. If a child has many toys, it will get tired of +them and break them; if a boy has many prints he will merely +dawdle and scrawl over them; it is by the limitation of the +number of his possessions that his pleasure in them is perfected, +and his attention concentrated. The parents need +give themselves no trouble in instructing him, as far as drawing +is concerned, beyond insisting upon economical and neat +habits with his colors and paper, showing him the best way +of holding pencil and rule, and, so far as they take notice of +his work, pointing out where a line is too short or too long, +or too crooked, when compared with the copy; <i>accuracy</i> being +the first and last thing they look for. If the child shows +talent for inventing or grouping figures, the parents should +neither check, nor praise it. They may laugh with it +frankly, or show pleasure in what it has done, just as they +show pleasure in seeing it well, or cheerful; but they must +not praise it for being clever, any more than they would +praise it for being stout. They should praise it only for +what costs it self-denial, namely attention and hard work; +otherwise they will make it work for vanity's sake, and always +badly. The best books to put into its hands are those +illustrated by George Cruikshank or by Richter. (See Appendix.) +At about the age of twelve or fourteen, it is quite +time enough to set youth or girl to serious work; and then +this book will, I think, be useful to them; and I have good +hope it may be so, likewise, to persons of more advanced age +wishing to know something of the first principles of art.</p> + +<p>iv. Yet observe, that the method of study recommended +is not brought forward as absolutely the best, but only as the +best which I can at present devise for an isolated student. +It is very likely that farther experience in teaching may +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexi"></a>xi</span> +enable me to modify it with advantage in several important +respects; but I am sure the main principles of it are sound, +and most of the exercises as useful as they can be rendered +without a master's superintendence. The method differs, +however, so materially from that generally adopted by drawing-masters, +that a word or two of explanation may be needed +to justify what might otherwise be thought willful +eccentricity.</p> + +<p>v. The manuals at present published on the subject of +drawing are all directed, as far as I know, to one or other +of two objects. Either they propose to give the student a +power of dexterous sketching with pencil or water-color, so +as to emulate (at considerable distance) the slighter work of +our second-rate artists; or they propose to give him such accurate +command of mathematical forms as may afterwards +enable him to design rapidly and cheaply for manufactures. +When drawing is taught as an accomplishment, the first is +the aim usually proposed; while the second is the object kept +chiefly in view at Marlborough House, and in the branch +Government Schools of Design.</p> + +<p>vi. Of the fitness of the modes of study adopted in those +schools, to the end specially intended, judgment is hardly yet +possible; only, it seems to me, that we are all too much in +the habit of confusing art as <i>applied</i> to manufacture, with +manufacture itself. For instance, the skill by which an inventive +workman designs and molds a beautiful cup, is skill +of true art; but the skill by which that cup is copied and +afterwards multiplied a thousandfold, is skill of manufacture: +and the faculties which enable one workman to design +and elaborate his original piece, are not to be developed by +the same system of instruction as those which enable another +to produce a maximum number of approximate copies of it +in a given time. Farther: it is surely inexpedient that any +reference to purposes of manufacture should interfere with +the education of the artist himself. Try first to manufacture +a Raphael; then let Raphael direct your manufacture. +He will design you a plate, or cup, or a house, or a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexii"></a>xii</span> +palace, whenever you want it, and design them in the most +convenient and rational way; but do not let your anxiety to +reach the platter and the cup interfere with your education +of the Raphael. Obtain first the best work you can, and the +ablest hands, irrespective of any consideration of economy or +facility of production. Then leave your trained artist to determine +how far art can be popularized, or manufacture +ennobled.</p> + +<p>vii. Now, I believe that (irrespective of differences in individual +temper and character) the excellence of an artist, +as such, depends wholly on refinement of perception, and that +it is this, mainly, which a master or a school can teach; so +that while powers of invention distinguish man from man, +powers of perception distinguish school from school. All +great schools enforce delicacy of drawing and subtlety of +sight: and the only rule which I have, as yet, found to be +without exception respecting art, is that all great art is +delicate.</p> + +<p>viii. Therefore, the chief aim and bent of the following +system is to obtain, first, a perfectly patient, and, to the utmost +of the pupil's power, a delicate method of work, such as +may insure his seeing truly. For I am nearly convinced, +that when once we see keenly enough, there is very little difficulty +in drawing what we see; but, even supposing that this +difficulty be still great, I believe that the sight is a more important +thing than the drawing; and I would rather teach +drawing that my pupils may learn to love Nature, than teach +the looking at Nature that they may learn to draw. It is +surely also a more important thing, for young people and unprofessional +students, to know how to appreciate the art of +others, than to gain much power in art themselves. Now the +modes of sketching ordinarily taught are inconsistent with +this power of judgment. No person trained to the superficial +execution of modern water-color painting, can understand +the work of Titian or Leonardo; they must forever remain +blind to the refinement of such men's penciling, and +the precision of their thinking. But, however slight a degree +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexiii"></a>xiii</span> +of manipulative power the student may reach by pursuing the +mode recommended to him in these letters, I will answer for +it that he cannot go once through the advised exercises without +beginning to understand what masterly work means; and, +by the time he has gained some proficiency in them, he will +have a pleasure in looking at the painting of the great schools, +and a new perception of the exquisiteness of natural scenery, +such as would repay him for much more labor than I have +asked him to undergo.</p> + +<p>ix. That labor is, nevertheless, sufficiently irksome, nor is +it possible that it should be otherwise, so long as the pupil +works unassisted by a master. For the smooth and straight +road which admits unembarrassed progress must, I fear, be +dull as well as smooth; and the hedges need to be close and +trim when there is no guide to warn or bring back the erring +traveler. The system followed in this work will, therefore, +at first, surprise somewhat sorrowfully those who are familiar +with the practice of our class at the Working Men's College; +for there, the pupil, having the master at his side to extricate +him from such embarrassments as his first efforts may lead +into, is <i>at once</i> set to draw from a solid object, and soon finds +entertainment in his efforts and interest in his difficulties. +Of course the simplest object which it is possible to set before +the eye is a sphere; and, practically, I find a child's toy, +a white leather ball, better than anything else; as the gradations +on balls of plaster of Paris, which I use sometimes to +try the strength of pupils who have had previous practice, are +a little too delicate for a beginner to perceive. It has been +objected that a circle, or the outline of a sphere, is one of the +most difficult of all lines to draw. It is so;<a name="FnAnchor_A" href="#Footnote_A"><span class="sp">[A]</span></a> but I do not +want it to be drawn. All that his study of the ball is to +teach the pupil, is the way in which shade gives the appearance +of projection. This he learns most satisfactorily from +a sphere; because any solid form, terminated by straight lines +or flat surfaces, owes some of its appearance of projection to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexiv"></a>xiv</span> +its perspective; but in the sphere, what, without shade, was +a flat circle, becomes, merely by the added shade, the image +of a solid ball; and this fact is just as striking to the learner, +whether his circular outline be true or false. He is, therefore, +never allowed to trouble himself about it; if he makes +the ball look as oval as an egg, the degree of error is simply +pointed out to him, and he does better next time, and better +still the next. But his mind is always fixed on the gradation +of shade, and the outline left to take, in due time, care +of itself. I call it outline, for the sake of immediate intelligibility,—strictly +speaking, it is merely the edge of the +shade; no pupil in my class being ever allowed to draw an +outline, in the ordinary sense. It is pointed out to him, +from the first, that Nature relieves one mass, or one tint, +against another; but outlines none. The outline exercise, +the second suggested in this letter, is recommended, not to +enable the pupil to draw outlines, but as the only means by +which, unassisted, he can test his accuracy of eye, and discipline +his hand. When the master is by, errors in the form +and extent of shadows can be pointed out as easily as in outline, +and the handling can be gradually corrected in details +of the work. But the solitary student can only find out his +own mistakes by help of the traced limit, and can only test +the firmness of his hand by an exercise in which nothing but +firmness is required; and during which all other considerations +(as of softness, complexity, etc.) are entirely excluded.</p> + +<p>x. Both the system adopted at the Working Men's College, +and that recommended here, agree, however, in one principle, +which I consider the most important and special of all that +are involved in my teaching: namely, the attaching its full +importance, from the first, to local color. I believe that the +endeavor to separate, in the course of instruction, the observation +of light and shade from that of local color, has always +been, and must always be, destructive of the student's +power of accurate sight, and that it corrupts his taste as much +as it retards his progress. I will not occupy the reader's +time by any discussion of the principle here, but I wish him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexv"></a>xv</span> +to note it as the only distinctive one in my system, so far as +it <i>is</i> a system. For the recommendation to the pupil to copy +faithfully, and without alteration, whatever natural object +he chooses to study, is serviceable, among other reasons, just +because it gets rid of systematic rules altogether, and teaches +people to draw, as country lads learn to ride, without saddle +or stirrups; my main object being, at first, not to get my +pupils to hold their reins prettily, but to "sit like a jackanapes, +never off."</p> + +<p>xi. In these written instructions, therefore, it has always +been with regret that I have seen myself forced to advise anything +like monotonous or formal discipline. But, to the unassisted +student, such formalities are indispensable, and I am +not without hope that the sense of secure advancement, and +the pleasure of independent effort, may render the following +out of even the more tedious exercises here proposed, possible +to the solitary learner, without weariness. But if it should +be otherwise, and he finds the first steps painfully irksome, +I can only desire him to consider whether the acquirement +of so great a power as that of pictorial expression of thought +be not worth some toil; or whether it is likely, in the natural +order of matters in this working world, that so great a gift +should be attainable by those who will give no price for it.</p> + +<p>xii. One task, however, of some difficulty, the student will +find I have not imposed upon him: namely, learning the laws +of perspective. It would be worth while to learn them, if +he could do so easily; but without a master's help, and in the +way perspective is at present explained in treatises, the difficulty +is greater than the gain. For perspective is not of the +slightest use, except in rudimentary work. You can draw +the rounding line of a table in perspective, but you cannot +draw the sweep of a sea bay; you can foreshorten a log of +wood by it, but you cannot foreshorten an arm. Its laws are +too gross and few to be applied to any subtle form; therefore, +as you must learn to draw the subtle forms by the eye, certainly +you may draw the simple ones. No great painters +ever trouble themselves about perspective, and very few of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexvi"></a>xvi</span> +them know its laws; they draw everything by the eye, and, +naturally enough, disdain in the easy parts of their work +rules which cannot help them in difficult ones. It would +take about a month's labor to draw imperfectly, by laws of +perspective, what any great Venetian will draw perfectly in +five minutes, when he is throwing a wreath of leaves round +a head, or bending the curves of a pattern in and out among +the folds of drapery. It is true that when perspective was +first discovered, everybody amused themselves with it; and +all the great painters put fine saloons and arcades behind +their Madonnas, merely to show that they could draw in perspective: +but even this was generally done by them only to +catch the public eye, and they disdained the perspective so +much, that though they took the greatest pains with the circlet +of a crown, or the rim of a crystal cup, in the heart of their +picture, they would twist their capitals of columns and towers +of churches about in the background in the most wanton +way, wherever they liked the lines to go, provided only they +left just perspective enough to please the public.</p> + +<p>xiii. In modern days, I doubt if any artist among us, except +David Roberts, knows so much perspective as would +enable him to draw a Gothic arch to scale at a given angle +and distance. Turner, though he was professor of perspective +to the Royal Academy, did not know what he professed, +and never, as far as I remember, drew a single building in +true perspective in his life; he drew them only with as much +perspective as suited him. Prout also knew nothing of perspective, +and twisted his buildings, as Turner did, into whatever +shapes he liked. I do not justify this; and would recommend +the student at least to treat perspective with common +civility, but to pay no court to it. The best way he can +learn it, by himself, is by taking a pane of glass, fixed in a +frame, so that it can be set upright before the eye, at the distance +at which the proposed sketch is intended to be seen. +Let the eye be placed at some fixed point, opposite the middle +of the pane of glass, but as high or as low as the student likes; +then with a brush at the end of a stick, and a little body-color +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexvii"></a>xvii</span> +that will adhere to the glass, the lines of the landscape may +be traced on the glass, as you see them through it. When +so traced they are all in true perspective. If the glass be +sloped in any direction, the lines are still in true perspective, +only it is perspective calculated for a sloping plane, while +common perspective always supposes the plane of the picture +to be vertical. It is good, in early practice, to accustom +yourself to inclose your subject, before sketching it, with a +light frame of wood held upright before you; it will show +you what you may legitimately take into your picture, and +what choice there is between a narrow foreground near you, +and a wide one farther off; also, what height of tree or building +you can properly take in, etc.<a name="FnAnchor_B" href="#Footnote_B"><span class="sp">[B]</span></a></p> + +<p>xiv. Of figure drawing, nothing is said in the following +pages, because I do not think figures, as chief subjects, can +be drawn to any good purpose by an amateur. As accessaries +in landscape, they are just to be drawn on the same principles +as anything else.</p> + +<p>xv. Lastly: If any of the directions given subsequently to +the student should be found obscure by him, or if at any +stage of the recommended practice he find himself in difficulties +which I have not enough provided against, he may +apply by letter to Mr. Ward, who is my under drawing-master +at the Working Men's College (45 Great Ormond +Street), and who will give any required assistance, on the +lowest terms that can remunerate him for the occupation of +his time. I have not leisure myself in general to answer +letters of inquiry, however much I may desire to do so; but +Mr. Ward has always the power of referring any question to +me when he thinks it necessary. I have good hope, however, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexviii"></a>xviii</span> +that enough guidance is given in this work to prevent the occurrence +of any serious embarrassment; and I believe that +the student who obeys its directions will find, on the whole, +that the best answerer of questions is perseverance; and the +best drawing-masters are the woods and hills.</p> + +<p>[1857.]</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_A" href="#FnAnchor_A">[A]</a> Or, more accurately, appears to be so, because any one can see an +error in a circle.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_B" href="#FnAnchor_B">[B]</a> If the student is fond of architecture, and wishes to know more of +perspective than he can learn in this rough way, Mr. Runciman (of 49 +Acacia Road, St. John's Wood), who was my first drawing-master, and +to whom I owe many happy hours, can teach it him quickly, easily, and +rightly. [Mr. Runciman has died since this was written: Mr. Ward's +present address is Bedford Chambers, 28 Southampton Street, Strand, +London, W.C.]</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page001"></a>1</span></p> + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h2>ELEMENTS OF DRAWING.</h2> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>LETTER I.</h3> + +<h5>ON FIRST PRACTICE.</h5> + + +<p>1. <span class="sc">My dear Reader</span>,—Whether this book is to be of use +to you or not, depends wholly on your reason for wishing to +learn to draw. If you desire only to possess a graceful accomplishment, +to be able to converse in a fluent manner about +drawing, or to amuse yourself listlessly in listless hours, I +cannot help you: but if you wish to learn drawing that you +may be able to set down clearly, and usefully, records of such +things as cannot be described in words, either to assist your +own memory of them, or to convey distinct ideas of them to +other people; if you wish to obtain quicker perceptions of the +beauty of the natural world, and to preserve something like +a true image of beautiful things that pass away, or which +you must yourself leave; if, also, you wish to understand the +minds of great painters, and to be able to appreciate their +work sincerely, seeing it for yourself, and loving it, not +merely taking up the thoughts of other people about it; then +I <i>can</i> help you, or, which is better, show you how to help +yourself.</p> + +<p>2. Only you must understand, first of all, that these powers, +which indeed are noble and desirable, cannot be got without +work. It is much easier to learn to draw well, than it is +to learn to play well on any musical instrument; but you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page002"></a>2</span> +know that it takes three or four years of practice, giving three +or four hours a day, to acquire even ordinary command over +the keys of a piano; and you must not think that a masterly +command of your pencil, and the knowledge of what may be +done with it, can be acquired without painstaking, or in a +<i>very</i> short time. The kind of drawing which is taught, or +supposed to be taught, in our schools, in a term or two, perhaps +at the rate of an hour's practice a week, is not drawing +at all. It is only the performance of a few dexterous (not +always even that) evolutions on paper with a black-lead pencil; +profitless alike to performer and beholder, unless as a +matter of vanity, and that the smallest possible vanity. If +any young person, after being taught what is, in polite circles, +called "drawing," will try to copy the commonest piece +of real work—suppose a lithograph on the titlepage of a new +opera air, or a wood-cut in the cheapest illustrated newspaper +of the day,—they will find themselves entirely beaten. And +yet that common lithograph was drawn with coarse chalk, +much more difficult to manage than the pencil of which an +accomplished young lady is supposed to have command; and +that wood-cut was drawn in urgent haste, and half spoiled in +the cutting afterwards; and both were done by people whom +nobody thinks of as artists, or praises for their power; both +were done for daily bread, with no more artist's pride than +any simple handicraftsmen feel in the work they live by.</p> + +<p>3. Do not, therefore, think that you can learn drawing, +any more than a new language, without some hard and disagreeable +labor. But do not, on the other hand, if you are +ready and willing to pay this price, fear that you may be unable +to get on for want of special talent. It is indeed true +that the persons who have peculiar talent for art, draw instinctively, +and get on almost without teaching; though never +without toil. It is true, also, that of inferior talent for +drawing there are many degrees: it will take one person a +much longer time than another to attain the same results, and +the results thus painfully attained are never quite so satisfactory +as those got with greater ease when the faculties are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page003"></a>3</span> +naturally adapted to the study. But I have never yet, in the +experiments I have made, met with a person who could not +learn to draw at all; and, in general, there is a satisfactory +and available power in every one to learn drawing if he +wishes, just as nearly all persons have the power of learning +French, Latin, or arithmetic, in a decent and useful degree, +if their lot in life requires them to possess such knowledge.</p> + +<p>4. Supposing then that you are ready to take a certain +amount of pains, and to bear a little irksomeness and a few +disappointments bravely, I can promise you that an hour's +practice a day for six months, or an hour's practice every +other day for twelve months, or, disposed in whatever way +you find convenient, some hundred and fifty hours' practice, +will give you sufficient power of drawing faithfully whatever +you want to draw, and a good judgment, up to a certain point, +of other people's work: of which hours if you have one to +spare at present, we may as well begin at once.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE I.</p> + +<p>5. Everything that you can see in the world around you, +presents itself to your eyes only as an arrangement of patches +of different colors variously shaded.<a name="FnAnchor_1" href="#Footnote_1"><span class="sp">[1]</span></a> Some of these patches +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page004"></a>4</span> +of color have an appearance of lines or texture within them, +as a piece of cloth or silk has of threads, or an animal's skin +shows texture of hairs: but whether this be the case or not, +the first broad aspect of the thing is that of a patch of some +definite color; and the first thing to be learned is, how to +produce extents of smooth color, without texture.</p> + +<p>6. This can only be done properly with a brush; but a +brush, being soft at the point, causes so much uncertainty in +the touch of an unpracticed hand, that it is hardly possible +to learn to draw first with it, and it is better to take, in early +practice, some instrument with a hard and fine point, both +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page005"></a>5</span> +that we may give some support to the hand, and that by working +over the subject with so delicate a point, the attention +may be properly directed to all the most minute parts of it. +Even the best artists need occasionally to study subjects with +a pointed instrument, in order thus to discipline their attention: +and a beginner must be content to do so for a considerable +period.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_1"><img src="images/img005.jpg" width="400" height="145" alt="Fig. 1." title="Fig. 1." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 1.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>7. Also, observe that before we trouble ourselves about +differences of color, we must be able to lay on <i>one</i> color properly, +in whatever gradations of depth and whatever shapes we +want. We will try, therefore, first to lay on tints or patches +of gray, of whatever depth we want, with a pointed instrument. +Take any finely pointed steel pen (one of Gillott's +lithographic crowquills is best), and a piece of quite smooth, +but not shining, note-paper, cream laid, and get some ink that +has stood already some time in the inkstand, so as to be quite +black, and as thick as it can be without clogging the pen. +Take a rule, and draw four straight lines, so as to inclose a +square, or nearly a square, about as large as <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_1">Fig. 1.</a> I say +nearly a square, because it does not in the least matter +whether it is quite square or not, the object being merely to +get a space inclosed by straight lines.</p> + +<p>8. Now, try to fill in that square space with crossed lines, +so completely and evenly that it shall look like a square patch +of gray silk or cloth, cut out and laid on the white paper, as +at <i>b</i>. Cover it quickly, first with straightish lines, in any +direction you like, not troubling yourself to draw them much +closer or neater than those in the square <i>a</i>. Let them quite +dry before retouching them. (If you draw three or four +squares side by side, you may always be going on with one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page006"></a>6</span> +while the others are drying.) Then cover these lines with +others in a different direction, and let those dry; then in another +direction still, and let those dry. Always wait long +enough to run no risk of blotting, and then draw the lines as +quickly as you can. Each ought to be laid on as swiftly as +the dash of the pen of a good writer; but if you try to reach +this great speed at first, you will go over the edge of the +square, which is a fault in this exercise. Yet it is better to +do so now and then than to draw the lines very slowly; for +if you do, the pen leaves a little dot of ink at the end of each +line, and these dots spoil your work. So draw each line +quickly, stopping always as nearly as you can at the edge of +the square. The ends of lines which go over the edge are +afterwards to be removed with the penknife, but not till you +have done the whole work, otherwise you roughen the paper, +and the next line that goes over the edge makes a blot.</p> + +<p>9. When you have gone over the whole three or four times, +you will find some parts of the square look darker than other +parts. Now try to make the lighter parts as dark as the rest, +so that the whole may be of equal depth or darkness. You +will find, on examining the work, that where it looks darkest +the lines are closest, or there are some much darker lines than +elsewhere; therefore you must put in other lines, or little +scratches and dots, <i>between</i> the lines in the paler parts; and +where there are any very conspicuous dark lines, scratch +them out lightly with the penknife, for the eye must not be +attracted by any line in particular. The more carefully and +delicately you fill in the little gaps and holes the better; you +will get on faster by doing two or three squares perfectly +than a great many badly. As the tint gets closer and begins +to look even, work with very little ink in your pen, so as +hardly to make any mark on the paper; and at last, where it +is too dark, use the edge of your penknife very lightly, and +for some time, to wear it softly into an even tone. You will +find that the greatest difficulty consists in getting evenness: +one bit will always look darker than another bit of your +square; or there will be a granulated and sandy look over the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page007"></a>7</span> +whole. When you find your paper quite rough and in a +mess, give it up and begin another square, but do not rest +satisfied till you have done your best with every square. The +tint at last ought at least to be as close and even as that in <i>b</i>, +<a href="#fig_1">Fig. 1.</a> You will find, however, that it is very difficult to +get a pale tint; because, naturally, the ink lines necessary to +produce a close tint at all, blacken the paper more than you +want. You must get over this difficulty not so much by leaving +the lines wide apart as by trying to draw them excessively +fine, lightly and swiftly; being very cautious in filling in; +and, at last, passing the penknife over the whole. By keeping +several squares in progress at one time, and reserving +your pen for the light one just when the ink is nearly exhausted, +you may get on better. The paper ought, at last, to +look lightly and evenly toned all over, with no lines distinctly +visible.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE II.</p> + +<p>10. As this exercise in shading is very tiresome, it will be +well to vary it by proceeding with another at the same time. +The power of shading rightly depends mainly on lightness of +hand and keenness of sight; but there are other qualities required +in drawing, dependent not merely on lightness, but +steadiness of hand; and the eye, to be perfect in its power, +must be made accurate as well as keen, and not only see +shrewdly, but measure justly.</p> + +<p>11. Possess yourself therefore of any cheap work on +botany containing <i>outline</i> plates of leaves and flowers, it does +not matter whether bad or good: Baxter's British Flowering +Plants is quite good enough. Copy any of the simplest outlines, +first with a soft pencil, following it, by the eye, as +nearly as you can; if it does not look right in proportions, +rub out and correct it, always by the eye, till you think it is +right: when you have got it to your mind, lay tracing-paper +on the book; on this paper trace the outline you have been +copying, and apply it to your own; and having thus ascertained +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page008"></a>8</span> +the faults, correct them all patiently, till you have got +it as nearly accurate as may be. Work with a very soft pencil, +and do not rub out so hard<a name="FnAnchor_2" href="#Footnote_2"><span class="sp">[2]</span></a> as to spoil the surface of +your paper; never mind how dirty the paper gets, but do not +roughen it; and let the false outlines alone where they do not +really interfere with the true one. It is a good thing to accustom +yourself to hew and shape your drawing out of a dirty +piece of paper. When you have got it as right as you can, +take a quill pen, not very fine at the point; rest your hand on +a book about an inch and a half thick, so as to hold the pen +long; and go over your pencil outline with ink, raising your +pen point as seldom as possible, and never leaning more +heavily on one part of the line than on another. In most +outline drawings of the present day, parts of the curves are +thickened to give an effect of shade; all such outlines are bad, +but they will serve well enough for your exercises, provided +you do not imitate this character: it is better, however, if you +can, to choose a book of pure outlines. It does not in the +least matter whether your pen outline be thin or thick; but +it matters greatly that it should be <i>equal</i>, not heavier in one +place than in another. The power to be obtained is that of +drawing an even line slowly and in any direction; all dashing +lines, or approximations to penmanship, are bad. The +pen should, as it were, walk slowly over the ground, and you +should be able at any moment to stop it, or to turn it in any +other direction, like a well-managed horse.</p> + +<p>12. As soon as you can copy every curve <i>slowly</i> and accurately, +you have made satisfactory progress; but you will +find the difficulty is in the slowness. It is easy to draw what +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page009"></a>9</span> +appears to be a good line with a sweep of the hand, or with +what is called freedom;<a name="FnAnchor_3" href="#Footnote_3"><span class="sp">[3]</span></a> the real difficulty and masterliness +is in never letting the hand <i>be</i> free, but keeping it under +entire control at every part of the line.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE III.</p> + +<p>13. Meantime, you are always to be going on with your +shaded squares, and chiefly with these, the outline exercises +being taken up only for rest.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_2"><img src="images/img009.jpg" width="500" height="58" alt="Fig. 2." title="Fig. 2." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 2.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>As soon as you find you have some command of the pen +as a shading instrument, and can lay a pale or dark tint as +you choose, try to produce gradated spaces like <a href="#fig_2">Fig. 2</a>, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page010"></a>10</span> +dark tint passing gradually into the lighter ones. Nearly +all expression of form, in drawing, depends on your power of +gradating delicately; and the gradation is always most skillful +which passes from one tint into another very little paler. +Draw, therefore, two parallel lines for limits to your work, +as in <a href="#fig_2">Fig. 2</a>, and try to gradate the shade evenly from white +to black, passing over the greatest possible distance, yet so +that every part of the band may have visible change in it. +The perception of gradation is very deficient in all beginners +(not to say, in many artists), and you will probably, for some +time, think your gradation skillful enough, when it is quite +patchy and imperfect. By getting a piece of gray shaded +ribbon, and comparing it with your drawing, you may arrive, +in early stages of your work, at a wholesome dissatisfaction +with it. Widen your band little by little as you get more +skillful, so as to give the gradation more lateral space, and +accustom yourself at the same time to look for gradated +spaces in Nature. The sky is the largest and the most beautiful; +watch it at twilight, after the sun is down, and try to +consider each pane of glass in the window you look through +as a piece of paper colored blue, or gray, or purple, as it +happens to be, and observe how quietly and continuously the +gradation extends over the space in the window, of one or +two feet square. Observe the shades on the outside and inside +of a common white cup or bowl, which make it look +round and hollow;<a name="FnAnchor_4" href="#Footnote_4"><span class="sp">[4]</span></a> and then on folds of white drapery; and +thus gradually you will be led to observe the more subtle transitions +of the light as it increases or declines on flat surfaces. +At last, when your eye gets keen and true, you will see gradation +on everything in Nature.</p> + +<p>14. But it will not be in your power yet awhile to draw +from any objects in which the gradations are varied and complicated; +nor will it be a bad omen for your future progress, +and for the use that art is to be made of by you, if the first +thing at which you aim should be a little bit of sky. So take +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page011"></a>11</span> +any narrow space of evening sky, that you can usually see, +between the boughs of a tree, or between two chimneys, or +through the corner of a pane in the window you like best to +sit at, and try to gradate a little space of white paper as +evenly as that is gradated—as <i>tenderly</i> you cannot gradate +it without color, no, nor with color either; but you may do +it as evenly; or, if you get impatient with your spots and +lines of ink, when you look at the beauty of the sky, the sense +you will have gained of that beauty is something to be thankful +for. But you ought not to be impatient with your pen +and ink; for all great painters, however delicate their perception +of color, are fond of the peculiar effect of light which +may be got in a pen-and-ink sketch, and in a wood-cut, by the +gleaming of the white paper between the black lines; and if +you cannot gradate well with pure black lines, you will never +gradate well with pale ones. By looking at any common +wood-cuts, in the cheap publications of the day, you may see +how gradation is given to the sky by leaving the lines farther +and farther apart; but you must make your lines as fine as +you can, as well as far apart, towards the light; and do not +try to make them long or straight, but let them cross irregularly +in any directions easy to your hand, depending on nothing +but their gradation for your effect. On this point of +direction of lines, however, I shall have to tell you more, +presently; in the meantime, do not trouble yourself about it.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE IV.</p> + +<p>15. As soon as you find you can gradate tolerably with the +pen, take an H. or HH. pencil, using its point to produce +shade, from the darkest possible to the palest, in exactly the +same manner as the pen, lightening, however, now with india-rubber +instead of the penknife. You will find that all +<i>pale</i> tints of shade are thus easily producible with great precision +and tenderness, but that you cannot get the same dark +power as with the pen and ink, and that the surface of the +shade is apt to become glossy and metallic, or dirty-looking, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page012"></a>12</span> +or sandy. Persevere, however, in trying to bring it to evenness +with the fine point, removing any single speck or line +that may be too black, with the <i>point</i> of the knife: you must +not scratch the whole with the knife as you do the ink. If +you find the texture very speckled-looking, lighten it all over +with india-rubber, and recover it again with sharp, and excessively +fine touches of the pencil point, bringing the parts +that are too pale to perfect evenness with the darker spots.</p> + +<p>You cannot use the point too delicately or cunningly in +doing this; work with it as if you were drawing the down on +a butterfly's wing.</p> + +<p>16. At this stage of your progress, if not before, you may +be assured that some clever friend will come in, and hold up +his hands in mocking amazement, and ask you who could set +you to that "niggling;" and if you persevere in it, you will +have to sustain considerable persecution from your artistical +acquaintances generally, who will tell you that all good drawing +depends on "boldness." But never mind them. You +do not hear them tell a child, beginning music, to lay its little +hand with a crash among the keys, in imitation of the great +masters: yet they might, as reasonably as they may tell you +to be bold in the present state of your knowledge. Bold, in +the sense of being undaunted, yes; but bold in the sense of +being careless, confident, or exhibitory,—no,—no, and a thousand +times no; for, even if you were not a beginner, it would +be bad advice that made you bold. Mischief may easily be +done quickly, but good and beautiful work is generally done +slowly; you will find no boldness in the way a flower or a +bird's wing is painted; and if Nature is not bold at her work, +do you think you ought to be at yours? So never mind what +people say, but work with your pencil point very patiently; +and if you can trust me in anything, trust me when I tell +you, that though there are all kinds and ways of art,—large +work for large places, small work for narrow places, slow +work for people who can wait, and quick work for people who +cannot,—there is one quality, and, I think, only one, in +which all great and good art agrees;—it is all delicate art. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page013"></a>13</span> +Coarse art is always bad art. You cannot understand this +at present, because you do not know yet how much tender +thought, and subtle care, the great painters put into touches +that at first look coarse; but, believe me, it is true, and you +will find it is so in due time.</p> + +<p>17. You will be perhaps also troubled, in these first essays +at pencil drawing, by noticing that more delicate gradations +are got in an instant by a chance touch of the india-rubber, +than by an hour's labor with the point; and you may wonder +why I tell you to produce tints so painfully, which might, it +appears, be obtained with ease. But there are two reasons: +the first, that when you come to draw forms, you must be able +to gradate with absolute precision, in whatever place and +direction you wish; not in any wise vaguely, as the india-rubber +does it: and, secondly, that all natural shadows are +more or less mingled with gleams of light. In the darkness +of ground there is the light of the little pebbles or dust; in +the darkness of foliage, the glitter of the leaves; in the darkness +of flesh, transparency; in that of a stone, granulation: +in every case there is some mingling of light, which cannot +be represented by the leaden tone which you get by rubbing, +or by an instrument known to artists as the "stump." +When you can manage the point properly, you will indeed +be able to do much also with this instrument, or with your +fingers; but then you will have to retouch the flat tints afterwards, +so as to put life and light into them, and that can +only be done with the point. Labor on, therefore, courageously, +with that only.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page014"></a>14</span></p> + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE V.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_3"><img src="images/img014.jpg" width="400" height="228" alt="Fig. 3." title="Fig. 3." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 3.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>18. When you can manage to tint and gradate tenderly +with the pencil point, get a good large alphabet, and try to +<i>tint</i> the letters into shape with the pencil point. Do not outline +them first, but measure their height and extreme breadth +with the compasses, as <i>a b</i>, <i>a c</i>, <a href="#fig_3">Fig. 3</a>, and then scratch in +their shapes gradually; the letter A, inclosed within the +lines, being in what Turner would have called a "state of +forwardness." Then, when you are satisfied with the shape +of the letter, draw pen-and-ink lines firmly round the tint, as +at <i>d</i>, and remove any touches outside the limit, first with the +india-rubber, and then with the penknife, so that all may +look clear and right. If you rub out any of the pencil inside +the outline of the letter, retouch it, closing it up to the inked +line. The straight lines of the outline are all to be ruled,<a name="FnAnchor_5" href="#Footnote_5"><span class="sp">[5]</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page015"></a>15</span> +but the curved lines are to be drawn by the eye and hand; +and you will soon find what good practice there is in getting +the curved letters, such as Bs, Cs, etc., to stand quite straight, +and come into accurate form.</p> + +<p>19. All these exercises are very irksome, and they are not +to be persisted in alone; neither is it necessary to acquire perfect +power in any of them. An entire master of the pencil +or brush ought, indeed, to be able to draw any form at once, +as Giotto his circle; but such skill as this is only to be expected +of the consummate master, having pencil in hand all +his life, and all day long,—hence the force of Giotto's proof +of his skill; and it is quite possible to draw very beautifully, +without attaining even an approximation to such a power; the +main point being, not that every line should be precisely what +we intend or wish, but that the line which we intended or +wished to draw should be right. If we always see rightly +and mean rightly, we shall get on, though the hand may stagger +a little; but if we mean wrongly, or mean nothing, it does +not matter how firm the hand is. Do not therefore torment +yourself because you cannot do as well as you would like; +but work patiently, sure that every square and letter will give +you a certain increase of power; and as soon as you can draw +your letters pretty well, here is a more amusing exercise +for you.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE VI.</p> + +<p>20. Choose any tree that you think pretty, which is nearly +bare of leaves, and which you can see against the sky, or +against a pale wall, or other light ground: it must not be +against strong light, or you will find the looking at it hurt +your eyes; nor must it be in sunshine, or you will be puzzled +by the lights on the boughs. But the tree must be in shade; +and the sky blue, or gray, or dull white. A wholly gray or +rainy day is the best for this practice.</p> + +<p>21. You will see that all the boughs of the tree are dark +against the sky. Consider them as so many dark rivers, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page016"></a>16</span> +be laid down in a map with absolute accuracy; and, without +the least thought about the roundness of the stems, map them +all out in flat shade, scrawling them in with pencil, just as +you did the limbs of your letters; then correct and alter them, +rubbing out and out again, never minding how much your +paper is dirtied (only not destroying its surface), until every +bough is exactly, or as near as your utmost power can bring +it, right in curvature and in thickness. Look at the white +interstices between them with as much scrupulousness as if +they were little estates which you had to survey, and draw +maps of, for some important lawsuit, involving heavy penalties +if you cut the least bit of a corner off any of them, +or gave the hedge anywhere too deep a curve; and try continually +to fancy the whole tree nothing but a flat ramification +on a white ground. Do not take any trouble about the little +twigs, which look like a confused network or mist; leave them +all out,<a name="FnAnchor_6" href="#Footnote_6"><span class="sp">[6]</span></a> drawing only the main branches as far as you can see +them distinctly, your object at present being not to draw a +tree, but to learn how to do so. When you have got the thing +as nearly right as you can,—and it is better to make one good +study, than twenty left unnecessarily inaccurate,—take your +pen, and put a fine outline to all the boughs, as you did to +your letter, taking care, as far as possible, to put the outline +within the edge of the shade, so as not to make the boughs +thicker: the main use of the outline is to affirm the whole +more clearly; to do away with little accidental roughnesses +and excrescences, and especially to mark where boughs cross, +or come in front of each other, as at such points their arrangement +in this kind of sketch is unintelligible without the outline. +It may perfectly well happen that in Nature it should +be less distinct than your outline will make it; but it is better +in this kind of sketch to mark the facts clearly. The temptation +is always to be slovenly and careless, and the outline is +like a bridle, and forces our indolence into attention and precision. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page017"></a>17</span> +The outline should be about the thickness of that in +<a href="#fig_4">Fig. 4</a>, which represents the ramification of a small stone +pine, only I have not endeavored to represent the pencil shading +within the outline, as I could not easily express it in a +wood-cut; and you have nothing to do at present with the +indication of foliage above, of which in another place. You +may also draw your trees as much larger than this figure as +you like; only, however large they may be, keep the outline +as delicate, and draw the branches far enough into their outer +sprays to give quite as slender ramification as you have in +this figure, otherwise you do not get good enough practice out +of them.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_4"><img src="images/img017.jpg" width="400" height="479" alt="Fig. 4." title="Fig. 4." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 4.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>22. You cannot do too many studies of this kind: every +one will give you some new notion about trees. But when you +are tired of tree boughs, take any forms whatever which are +drawn in flat color, one upon another; as patterns on any +kind of cloth, or flat china (tiles, for instance), executed in +two colors only; and practice drawing them of the right shape +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page018"></a>18</span> +and size by the eye, and filling them in with shade of the +depth required.</p> + +<p>In doing this, you will first have to meet the difficulty of +representing depth of color by depth of shade. Thus a pattern +of ultramarine blue will have to be represented by a +darker tint of gray than a pattern of yellow.</p> + +<p>23. And now it is both time for you to begin to learn the +mechanical use of the brush; and necessary for you to do so +in order to provide yourself with the gradated scale of color +which you will want. If you can, by any means, get acquainted +with any ordinary skillful water-color painter, and +prevail on him to show you how to lay on tints with a brush, +by all means do so; not that you are yet, nor for a long +while yet, to begin to color, but because the brush is often +more convenient than the pencil for laying on masses or tints +of shade, and the sooner you know how to manage it as an +instrument the better. If, however, you have no opportunity +of seeing how water-color is laid on by a workman of any +kind, the following directions will help you:—</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE VII.</p> + +<p>24. Get a shilling cake of Prussian blue. Dip the end +of it in water so as to take up a drop, and rub it in a white +saucer till you cannot rub much more, and the color gets dark, +thick, and oily-looking. Put two teaspoonfuls of water to the +color you have rubbed down, and mix it well up with a +camel's-hair brush about three quarters of an inch long.</p> + +<p>25. Then take a piece of smooth, but not glossy, Bristol +board or pasteboard; divide it, with your pencil and rule, +into squares as large as those of the very largest chess-board: +they need not be perfect squares, only as nearly so as you can +quickly guess. Rest the pasteboard on something sloping as +much as an ordinary desk; then, dipping your brush into +the color you have mixed, and taking up as much of the liquid +as it will carry, begin at the top of one of the squares, and lay +a pond or runlet of color along the top edge. Lead this pond +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page019"></a>19</span> +of color gradually downwards, not faster at one place than +another, but as if you were adding a row of bricks to a building, +all along (only building down instead of up), dipping +the brush frequently so as to keep the color as full in that, +and in as great quantity on the paper, as you can, so only +that it does not run down anywhere in a little stream. But if +it should, never mind; go on quietly with your square till +you have covered it all in. When you get to the bottom, +the color will lodge there in a great wave. Have ready a +piece of blotting-paper; dry your brush on it, and with the +dry brush take up the superfluous color as you would with a +sponge, till it all looks even.</p> + +<p>26. In leading the color down, you will find your brush +continually go over the edge of the square, or leave little gaps +within it. Do not endeavor to retouch these, nor take much +care about them; the great thing is to get the color to lie +smoothly where it reaches, not in alternate blots and pale +patches; try, therefore, to lead it over the square as fast as +possible, with such attention to your limit as you are able to +give. The use of the exercise is, indeed, to enable you finally +to strike the color up to the limit with perfect accuracy; but +the first thing is to get it even,—the power of rightly +striking the edge comes only by time and practice: even the +greatest artists rarely can do this quite perfectly.</p> + +<p>27. When you have done one square, proceed to do another +which does not communicate with it. When you have thus +done all the alternate squares, as on a chess-board, turn the +pasteboard upside down, begin again with the first, and put +another coat over it, and so on over all the others. The use of +turning the paper upside down is to neutralize the increase +of darkness towards the bottom of the squares, which would +otherwise take place from the ponding of the color.</p> + +<p>28. Be resolved to use blotting-paper, or a piece of rag, +instead of your lips, to dry the brush. The habit of doing so, +once acquired, will save you from much partial poisoning. +Take care, however, always to draw the brush from root to +point, otherwise you will spoil it. You may even wipe it as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page020"></a>20</span> +you would a pen when you want it very dry, without doing +harm, provided you do not crush it upwards. Get a good +brush at first, and cherish it; it will serve you longer and +better than many bad ones.</p> + +<p>29. When you have done the squares all over again, do +them a third time, always trying to keep your edges as neat +as possible. When your color is exhausted, mix more in the +same proportions, two teaspoonfuls to as much as you can +grind with a drop; and when you have done the alternate +squares three times over, as the paper will be getting very +damp, and dry more slowly, begin on the white squares, and +bring them up to the same tint in the same way. The amount +of jagged dark line which then will mark the limits of the +squares will be the exact measure of your unskillfulness.</p> + +<p>30. As soon as you tire of squares draw circles (with compasses); +and then draw straight lines irregularly across circles, +and fill up the spaces so produced between the straight +line and the circumference; and then draw any simple shapes +of leaves, according to the exercise No. II., and fill up those, +until you can lay on color quite evenly in any shape you want.</p> + +<p>31. You will find in the course of this practice, as you +cannot always put exactly the same quantity of water to the +color, that the darker the color is, the more difficult it becomes +to lay it on evenly. Therefore, when you have gained +some definite degree of power, try to fill in the forms required +with a full brush, and a dark tint, at once, instead of laying +several coats one over another; always taking care that the +tint, however dark, be quite liquid; and that, after being laid +on, so much of it is absorbed as to prevent its forming a black +line at the edge as it dries. A little experience will teach you +how apt the color is to do this, and how to prevent it; not +that it needs always to be prevented, for a great master in +water-colors will sometimes draw a firm outline, when he +<i>wants</i> one, simply by letting the color dry in this way at the +edge.</p> + +<p>32. When, however, you begin to cover complicated forms +with the darker color, no rapidity will prevent the tint from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page021"></a>21</span> +drying irregularly as it is led on from part to part. You +will then find the following method useful. Lay in the color +very pale and liquid; so pale, indeed, that you can only just +see where it is on the paper. Lead it up to all the outlines, +and make it precise in form, keeping it thoroughly wet everywhere. +Then, when it is all in shape, take the darker color, +and lay some of it <i>into</i> the middle of the liquid color. It will +spread gradually in a branchy kind of way, and you may now +lead it up to the outlines already determined, and play it +with the brush till it fills its place well; then let it dry, and +it will be as flat and pure as a single dash, yet defining all the +complicated forms accurately.</p> + +<p>33. Having thus obtained the power of laying on a tolerably +flat tint, you must try to lay on a gradated one. Prepare +the color with three or four teaspoonfuls of water; then, +when it is mixed, pour away about two-thirds of it, keeping +a teaspoonful of pale color. Sloping your paper as before, +draw two pencil lines all the way down, leaving a space +between them of the width of a square on your chess-board. +Begin at the top of your paper, between the lines; and having +struck on the first brushful of color, and led it down a +little, dip your brush deep in water, and mix up the color +on the plate quickly with as much more water as the brush +takes up at that one dip: then, with this paler color, lead the +tint farther down. Dip in water again, mix the color again, +and thus lead down the tint, always dipping in water once +between each replenishing of the brush, and stirring the color +on the plate well, but as quickly as you can. Go on until the +color has become so pale that you cannot see it; then wash +your brush thoroughly in water, and carry the wave down +a little farther with that, and then absorb it with the dry +brush, and leave it to dry.</p> + +<p>34. If you get to the bottom of your paper before your +color gets pale, you may either take longer paper, or begin, +with the tint as it was when you left off, on another sheet; +but be sure to exhaust it to pure whiteness at last. When all +is quite dry, recommence at the top with another similar +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page022"></a>22</span> +mixture of color, and go down in the same way. Then again, +and then again, and so continually until the color at the top +of the paper is as dark as your cake of Prussian blue, and +passes down into pure white paper at the end of your column, +with a perfectly smooth gradation from one into the other.</p> + +<p>35. You will find at first that the paper gets mottled or +wavy, instead of evenly gradated; this is because at some +places you have taken up more water in your brush than at +others, or not mixed it thoroughly on the plate, or led one +tint too far before replenishing with the next. Practice only +will enable you to do it well; the best artists cannot always +get gradations of this kind quite to their minds; nor do they +ever leave them on their pictures without after-touching.</p> + +<p>36. As you get more power, and can strike the color more +quickly down, you will be able to gradate in less compass;<a name="FnAnchor_7" href="#Footnote_7"><span class="sp">[7]</span></a> +beginning with a small quantity of color, and adding a drop +of water, instead of a brushful; with finer brushes, also, you +may gradate to a less scale. But slight skill will enable you +to test the relations of color to shade as far as is necessary for +your immediate progress, which is to be done thus:—</p> + +<p>37. Take cakes of lake, of gamboge, of sepia, of blue-black, +of cobalt, and vermilion; and prepare gradated columns +(exactly as you have done with the Prussian blue) of the lake +and blue-black.<a name="FnAnchor_8" href="#Footnote_8"><span class="sp">[8]</span></a> Cut a narrow slip, all the way down, of +each gradated color, and set the three slips side by side; +fasten them down, and rule lines at equal distances across all +the three, so as to divide them into fifty degrees, and number +the degrees of each, from light to dark, 1, 2, 3, etc. If you +have gradated them rightly, the darkest part either of the red +or blue will be nearly equal in power to the darkest part of the +blue-black, and any degree of the black slip will also, accurately +enough for our purpose, balance in weight the degree +similarly numbered in the red or the blue slip. Then, when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page023"></a>23</span> +you are drawing from objects of a crimson or blue color, if +you can match their color by any compartment of the crimson +or blue in your scales, the gray in the compartment of the +gray scale marked with the same number is the gray which +must represent that crimson or blue in your light and shade +drawing.</p> + +<p>38. Next, prepare scales with gamboge, cobalt, and vermilion. +You will find that you cannot darken these beyond +a certain point;<a name="FnAnchor_9" href="#Footnote_9"><span class="sp">[9]</span></a> for yellow and scarlet, so long as they +remain yellow and scarlet, cannot approach to black; we +cannot have, properly speaking, a dark yellow or dark +scarlet. Make your scales of full yellow, blue, and scarlet, +half-way down; passing <i>then</i> gradually to white. Afterwards +use lake to darken the upper half of the vermilion and gamboge; +and Prussian blue to darken the cobalt. You will thus +have three more scales, passing from white nearly to black, +through yellow and orange, through sky-blue, and through +scarlet. By mixing the gamboge and Prussian blue you may +make another with green; mixing the cobalt and lake, another +with violet; the sepia alone will make a forcible brown one; +and so on, until you have as many scales as you like, passing +from black to white through different colors. Then, supposing +your scales properly gradated and equally divided, the +compartment or degree No. 1 of the gray will represent in +chiaroscuro the No. 1 of all the other colors; No. 2 of gray +the No. 2 of the other colors, and so on.</p> + +<p>39. It is only necessary, however, in this matter that you +should understand the principle; for it would never be possible +for you to gradate your scales so truly as to make them +practically accurate and serviceable; and even if you could, +unless you had about ten thousand scales, and were able to +change them faster than ever juggler changed cards, you +could not in a day measure the tints on so much as one side +of a frost-bitten apple. But when once you fully understand +the principle, and see how all colors contain as it were a certain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page024"></a>24</span> +quantity of darkness, or power of dark relief from white—some +more, some less; and how this pitch or power of each +may be represented by equivalent values of gray, you will +soon be able to arrive shrewdly at an approximation by a +glance of the eye, without any measuring scale at all.</p> + +<p>40. You must now go on, again with the pen, drawing +patterns, and any shapes of shade that you think pretty, as +veinings in marble or tortoiseshell, spots in surfaces of shells, +etc., as tenderly as you can, in the darknesses that correspond +to their colors; and when you find you can do this successfully, +it is time to begin rounding.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE VIII.</p> + +<p>41. Go out into your garden, or into the road, and pick up +the first round or oval stone you can find, not very white, +nor very dark; and the smoother it is the better, only it must +not <i>shine</i>. Draw your table near the window, and put the +stone, which I will suppose is about the size of <i>a</i> in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a> +(it had better not be much larger), on a piece of not very +white paper, on the table in front of you. Sit so that the +light may come from your left, else the shadow of the pencil +point interferes with your sight of your work. You must not +let the <i>sun</i> fall on the stone, but only ordinary light: therefore +choose a window which the sun does not come in at. If you +can shut the shutters of the other windows in the room it will +be all the better; but this is not of much consequence.</p> + +<p>42. Now if you can draw that stone, you can draw anything; +I mean, anything that is drawable. Many things (sea +foam, for instance) cannot be drawn at all, only the idea +of them more or less suggested; but if you can draw the stone +<i>rightly</i>, everything within reach of art is also within yours.</p> + +<p>For all drawing depends, primarily, on your power of +representing <i>Roundness</i>. If you can once do that, all the +rest is easy and straightforward; if you cannot do that, nothing +else that you may be able to do will be of any use. For +Nature is all made up of roundnesses; not the roundness of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page025"></a>25</span> +perfect globes, but of variously curved surfaces. Boughs are +rounded, leaves are rounded, stones are rounded, clouds are +rounded, cheeks are rounded, and curls are rounded: there +is no more flatness in the natural world than there is vacancy. +The world itself is round, and so is all that is in it, more or +less, except human work, which is often very flat indeed.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_5"><img src="images/img025.jpg" width="700" height="286" alt="Fig. 5." title="Fig. 5." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 5.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<p>Therefore, set yourself steadily to conquer that round +stone, and you have won the battle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page026"></a>26</span></p> + +<p>43. Look your stone antagonist boldly in the face. You +will see that the side of it next the window is lighter than +most of the paper; that the side of it farthest from the window +is darker than the paper; and that the light passes into +the dark gradually, while a shadow is thrown to the right on +the paper itself by the stone: the general appearance of things +being more or less as in <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, the spots on the stone +excepted, of which more presently.</p> + +<p>44. Now, remember always what was stated in the outset, +that everything you can see in Nature is seen only so far as +it is lighter or darker than the things about it, or of a different +color from them. It is either seen as a patch of one color +on a ground of another; or as a pale thing relieved from a +dark thing, or a dark thing from a pale thing. And if you +can put on patches of color or shade of exactly the same size, +shape, and gradations as those on the object and its ground, +you will produce the appearance of the object and its ground. +The best draughtsman—Titian and Paul Veronese themselves—could +do no more than this; and you will soon be able +to get some power of doing it in an inferior way, if you once +understand the exceeding simplicity of what is to be done. +Suppose you have a brown book on a white sheet of paper, +on a red tablecloth. You have nothing to do but to put on +spaces of red, white, and brown, in the same shape, and +gradated from dark to light in the same degrees, and your +drawing is done. If you will not look at what you see, if you +try to put on brighter or duller colors than are there, if +you try to put them on with a dash or a blot, or to cover your +paper with "vigorous" lines, or to produce anything, in fact, +but the plain, unaffected, and finished tranquillity of the +thing before you, you need not hope to get on. Nature will +show you nothing if you set yourself up for her master. But +forget yourself, and try to obey her, and you will find +obedience easier and happier than you think.</p> + +<p>45. The real difficulties are to get the refinement of the +forms and the evenness of the gradations. You may depend +upon it, when you are dissatisfied with your work, it is always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page027"></a>27</span> +too coarse or too uneven. It may not be wrong—in all probability +is not wrong, in any (so-called) great point. But its +edges are not true enough in outline; and its shades are in +blotches, or scratches, or full of white holes. Get it more +tender and more true, and you will find it is more powerful.</p> + +<p>46. Do not, therefore, think your drawing must be weak +because you have a finely pointed pen in your hand. Till you +can draw with that, you can draw with nothing; when you +can draw with that, you can draw with a log of wood +charred at the end. True boldness and power are only to be +gained by care. Even in fencing and dancing, all ultimate +ease depends on early precision in the commencement; much +more in singing or drawing.</p> + +<p>47. Now I do not want you to copy my sketch in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, +but to copy the stone before you in the way that my sketch +is done. To which end, first measure the extreme length of +the stone with compasses, and mark that length on your +paper; then, between the points marked, leave something +like the form of the stone in light, scrawling the paper all +over, round it; <i>b</i>, in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, is a beginning of this kind. +Rather leave too much room for the high light, than too little; +and then more cautiously fill in the shade, shutting the light +gradually up, and putting in the dark slowly on the dark +side. You need not plague yourself about accuracy of shape, +because, till you have practiced a great deal, it is impossible +for you to draw the shape of the stone quite truly, and you +must gradually gain correctness by means of these various +exercises: what you have mainly to do at present is, to get the +stone to look solid and round, not much minding what its +exact contour is—only draw it as nearly right as you can +without vexation; and you will get it more right by thus feeling +your way to it in shade, than if you tried to draw the +outline at first. For you can <i>see</i> no outline; what you see is +only a certain space of gradated shade, with other such spaces +about it; and those pieces of shade you are to imitate as +nearly as you can, by scrawling the paper over till you get +them to the right shape, with the same gradations which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page028"></a>28</span> +they have in Nature. And this is really more likely to be +done well, if you have to fight your way through a little +confusion in the sketch, than if you have an accurately traced +outline. For instance, having sketched the fossil sea-urchin +at <i>a</i>, in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, whose form, though irregular, required more +care in following than that of a common stone, I was going +to draw it also under another effect; reflected light bringing +its dark side out from the background: but when I had laid +on the first few touches I thought it would be better to stop, +and let you see how I had begun it, at <i>b</i>. In which beginning +it will be observed that nothing is so determined but that I +can more or less modify, and add to or diminish the contour +as I work on, the lines which suggest the outline being +blended with the others if I do not want them; and the having +to fill up the vacancies and conquer the irregularities of such +a sketch will probably secure a higher completion at last, than +if half an hour had been spent in getting a true outline before +beginning.</p> + +<p>48. In doing this, however, take care not to get the drawing +too dark. In order to ascertain what the shades of it really +are, cut a round hole, about half the size of a pea, in a piece +of white paper the color of that you use to draw on. Hold +this bit of paper with the hole in it, between you and your +stone; and pass the paper backwards and forwards, so as to +see the different portions of the stone (or other subject) +through the hole. You will find that, thus, the circular hole +looks like one of the patches of color you have been accustomed +to match, only changing in depth as it lets different +pieces of the stone be seen through it. You will be able thus +actually to <i>match</i> the color of the stone at any part of it, by +tinting the paper beside the circular opening. And you will +find that this opening never looks quite <i>black</i>, but that all the +roundings of the stone are given by subdued grays.<a name="FnAnchor_10" href="#Footnote_10"><span class="sp">[10]</span></a></p> + +<p>49. You will probably find, also, that some parts of the +stone, or of the paper it lies on, look luminous through the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page029"></a>29</span> +opening; so that the little circle then tells as a light spot +instead of a dark spot. When this is so, you cannot imitate +it, for you have no means of getting light brighter than white +paper: but by holding the paper more sloped towards the +light, you will find that many parts of the stone, which before +looked light through the hole, then look dark through it; and +if you can place the paper in such a position that every part +of the stone looks slightly dark, the little hole will tell always +as a spot of shade, and if your drawing is put in the same +light, you can imitate or match every gradation. You will +be amazed to find, under these circumstances, how slight the +differences of tint are, by which, through infinite delicacy +of gradation, Nature can express form.</p> + +<p>If any part of your subject will obstinately show itself as a +light through the hole, that part you need not hope to imitate. +Leave it white; you can do no more.</p> + +<p>50. When you have done the best you can to get the general +form, proceed to finish, by imitating the texture and all +the cracks and stains of the stone as closely as you can; and +note, in doing this, that cracks or fissures of any kind, +whether between stones in walls, or in the grain of timber or +rocks, or in any of the thousand other conditions they present, +are never expressible by single black lines, or lines of simple +shadow. A crack must always have its complete system of +light and shade, however small its scale. It is in reality a +little ravine, with a dark or shady side, and light or sunny +side, and, usually, shadow in the bottom. This is one of the +instances in which it may be as well to understand the reason +of the appearance; it is not often so in drawing, for the +aspects of things are so subtle and confused that they cannot +in general be explained; and in the endeavor to explain some, +we are sure to lose sight of others, while the natural overestimate +of the importance of those on which the attention +is fixed causes us to exaggerate them, so that merely scientific +draughtsmen caricature a third part of Nature, and miss +two-thirds. The best scholar is he whose eye is so keen as to +see at once how the thing looks, and who need not therefore +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page030"></a>30</span> +trouble himself with any reasons why it looks so: but few +people have this acuteness of perception; and to those who +are destitute of it, a little pointing out of rule and reason will +be a help, especially when a master is not near them. I +never allow my own pupils to ask the reason of anything, +because, as I watch their work, I can always show them how +the thing is, and what appearance they are missing in it; but +when a master is not by to direct the sight, science may, +here and there, be allowed to do so in his stead.</p> + +<p>51. Generally, then, every solid illumined object—for +instance, the stone you are drawing—has a light side +turned towards the light, a dark side turned away from the +light, and a shadow, which is cast on something else (as by +the stone on the paper it is set upon). You may sometimes +be placed so as to see only the light side and shadow, sometimes +only the dark side and shadow, and sometimes both +or either without the shadow; but in most positions solid +objects will show all the three, as the stone does here.</p> + +<p>52. Hold up your hand with the edge of it towards you, as +you sit now with your side to the window, so that the flat of +your hand is turned to the window. You will see one side +of your hand distinctly lighted, the other distinctly in shade. +Here are light side and dark side, with no seen shadow; the +shadow being detached, perhaps on the table, perhaps on the +other side of the room; you need not look for it at present.</p> + +<p>53. Take a sheet of note-paper, and holding it edgewise, +as you hold your hand, wave it up and down past the side +of your hand which is turned from the light, the paper being +of course farther from the window. You will see, as it passes, +a strong gleam of light strike on your hand, and light it considerably +on its dark side. This light is <i>reflected</i> light. It is +thrown back from the paper (on which it strikes first in +coming from the window) to the surface of your hand, just as +a ball would be if somebody threw it through the window +at the wall and you caught it at the rebound.</p> + +<p>Next, instead of the note-paper, take a red book, or a piece +of scarlet cloth. You will see that the gleam of light falling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page031"></a>31</span> +on your hand, as you wave the book, is now reddened. Take +a blue book, and you will find the gleam is blue. Thus every +object will cast some of its own color back in the light that +it reflects.</p> + +<p>54. Now it is not only these books or papers that reflect +light to your hand: every object in the room on that side of +it reflects some, but more feebly, and the colors mixing all +together form a neutral<a name="FnAnchor_11" href="#Footnote_11"><span class="sp">[11]</span></a> light, which lets the color of your +hand itself be more distinctly seen than that of any object +which reflects light to it; but if there were no reflected light, +that side of your hand would look as black as a coal.</p> + +<p>55. Objects are seen therefore, in general, partly by direct +light, and partly by light reflected from the objects around +them, or from the atmosphere and clouds. The color of their +light sides depends much on that of the direct light, and +that of the dark sides on the colors of the objects near them. +It is therefore impossible to say beforehand what color an +object will have at any point of its surface, that color depending +partly on its own tint, and partly on infinite combinations +of rays reflected from other things. The only certain +fact about dark sides is, that their color will be changeful, and +that a picture which gives them merely darker shades of the +color of the light sides must assuredly be bad.</p> + +<p>56. Now, lay your hand flat on the white paper you are +drawing on. You will see one side of each finger lighted, one +side dark, and the shadow of your hand on the paper. Here, +therefore, are the three divisions of shade seen at once. And +although the paper is white, and your hand of a rosy color +somewhat darker than white, yet you will see that the shadow +all along, just under the finger which casts it, is darker than +the flesh, and is of a very deep gray. The reason of this is, +that much light is reflected from the paper to the dark side +of your finger, but very little is reflected from other things +to the paper itself in that chink under your finger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page032"></a>32</span></p> + +<p>57. In general, for this reason, a shadow, or, at any rate, +the part of the shadow nearest the object, is darker than the +dark side of the object. I say in general, because a thousand +accidents may interfere to prevent its being so. Take a little +bit of glass, as a wine-glass, or the ink-bottle, and play it +about a little on the side of your hand farthest from the +window; you will presently find you are throwing gleams of +light all over the dark side of your hand, and in some positions +of the glass the reflection from it will annihilate the +shadow altogether, and you will see your hand dark on the +white paper. Now a stupid painter would represent, for +instance, a drinking-glass beside the hand of one of his figures, +and because he had been taught by rule that "shadow was +darker than the dark side," he would never think of the +reflection from the glass, but paint a dark gray under the +hand, just as if no glass were there. But a great painter +would be sure to think of the true effect, and paint it; and +then comes the stupid critic, and wonders why the hand is so +light on its dark side.</p> + +<p>58. Thus it is always dangerous to assert anything as a +<i>rule</i> in matters of art; yet it is useful for you to remember +that, in a general way, a shadow is darker than the dark +side of the thing that casts it, supposing the colors otherwise +the same; that is to say, when a white object casts a shadow +on a white surface, or a dark object on a dark surface: the +rule will not hold if the colors are different, the shadow of +a black object on a white surface being, of course, not so +dark, usually, as the black thing casting it. The only way to +ascertain the ultimate truth in such matters is to <i>look</i> for it; +but, in the meantime, you will be helped by noticing that +the cracks in the stone are little ravines, on one side of which +the light strikes sharply, while the other is in shade. +This dark side usually casts a little darker shadow at the +bottom of the crack; and the general tone of the stone surface +is not so bright as the light bank of the ravine. And, therefore, +if you get the surface of the object of a uniform tint, +more or less indicative of shade, and then scratch out a white +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page033"></a>33</span> +spot or streak in it of any shape; by putting a dark touch +beside this white one, you may turn it, as you choose, into +either a ridge or an incision, into either a boss or a cavity. +If you put the dark touch on the side of it nearest the sun, +or rather, nearest the place that the light comes from, you +will make it a cut or cavity; if you put it on the opposite +side, you will make it a ridge or mound; and the complete +success of the effect depends less on depth of shade than on +the rightness of the drawing; that is to say, on the evident +correspondence of the form of the shadow with the form that +casts it. In drawing rocks, or wood, or anything irregularly +shaped, you will gain far more by a little patience in following +the forms carefully, though with slight touches, than by +labored finishing of texture of surface and transparencies of +shadow.</p> + +<p>59. When you have got the whole well into shape, proceed +to lay on the stains and spots with great care, quite as much +as you gave to the forms. Very often, spots or bars of local +color do more to express form than even the light and shade, +and they are always interesting as the means by which Nature +carries light into her shadows, and shade into her lights; an +art of which we shall have more to say hereafter, in speaking +of composition. <i>a</i>, in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, is a rough sketch of a fossil +sea-urchin, in which the projections of the shell are of black +flint, coming through a chalky surface. These projections +form dark spots in the light; and their sides, rising out of +the shadow, form smaller whiter spots in the dark. You +may take such scattered lights as these out with the penknife, +provided you are just as careful to place them rightly as if +you got them by a more laborious process.</p> + +<p>60. When you have once got the feeling of the way in +which gradation expresses roundness and projection, you +may try your strength on anything natural or artificial that +happens to take your fancy, provided it be not too complicated +in form. I have asked you to draw a stone first, because any +irregularities and failures in your shading will be less offensive +to you, as being partly characteristic of the rough stone +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page034"></a>34</span> +surface, than they would be in a more delicate subject; and +you may as well go on drawing rounded stones of different +shapes for a little while, till you find you can really shade +delicately. You may then take up folds of thick white drapery, +a napkin or towel thrown carelessly on the table is as +good as anything, and try to express them in the same way; +only now you will find that your shades must be wrought +with perfect unity and tenderness, or you will lose the flow +of the folds. Always remember that a little bit perfected +is worth more than many scrawls; whenever you feel yourself +inclined to scrawl, give up work resolutely, and do not go +back to it till next day. Of course your towel or napkin must +be put on something that may be locked up, so that its folds +shall not be disturbed till you have finished. If you find that +the folds will not look right, get a photograph of a piece of +drapery (there are plenty now to be bought, taken from the +sculpture of the cathedrals of Rheims, Amiens, and Chartres, +which will at once educate your hand and your taste), and +copy some piece of that; you will then ascertain what it is +that is wanting in your studies from Nature, whether more +gradation, or greater watchfulness of the disposition of the +folds. Probably for some time you will find yourself failing +painfully in both, for drapery is very difficult to follow in +its sweeps; but do not lose courage, for the greater the difficulty, +the greater the gain in the effort. If your eye is more +just in measurement of form than delicate in perception of +tint, a pattern on the folded surface will help you. Try +whether it does or not: and if the patterned drapery confuses +you, keep for a time to the simple white one; but if it +helps you, continue to choose patterned stuffs (tartans and +simple checkered designs are better at first than flowered +ones), and even though it should confuse you, begin pretty +soon to use a pattern occasionally, copying all the distortions +and perspective modifications of it among the folds with +scrupulous care.</p> + +<p>61. Neither must you suppose yourself condescending in +doing this. The greatest masters are always fond of drawing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page035"></a>35</span> +patterns; and the greater they are, the more pains they take +to do it truly.<a name="FnAnchor_12" href="#Footnote_12"><span class="sp">[12]</span></a> Nor can there be better practice at any time, +as introductory to the nobler complication of natural detail. +For when you can draw the spots which follow the folds of +a printed stuff, you will have some chance of following the +spots which fall into the folds of the skin of a leopard as he +leaps; but if you cannot draw the manufacture, assuredly +you will never be able to draw the creature. So the cloudings +on a piece of wood, carefully drawn, will be the best introduction +to the drawing of the clouds of the sky, or the waves +of the sea; and the dead leaf-patterns on a damask drapery, +well rendered, will enable you to disentangle masterfully the +living leaf-patterns of a thorn thicket or a violet bank.</p> + +<p>62. Observe, however, in drawing any stuffs, or bindings +of books, or other finely textured substances, do not trouble +yourself, as yet, much about the wooliness or gauziness of +the thing; but get it right in shade and fold, and true in +pattern. We shall see, in the course of after-practice, how +the penned lines may be made indicative of texture; but at +present attend only to the light and shade and pattern. You +will be puzzled at first by <i>lustrous</i> surfaces, but a little attention +will show you that the expression of these depends merely +on the right drawing of their light and shade, and reflections. +Put a small black japanned tray on the table in front of some +books; and you will see it reflects the objects beyond it as +in a little black rippled pond; its own color mingling always +with that of the reflected objects. Draw these reflections of +the books properly, making them dark and distorted, as you +will see that they are, and you will find that this gives the +luster to your tray. It is not well, however, to draw polished +objects in general practice; only you should do one or two in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page036"></a>36</span> +order to understand the aspect of any lustrous portion of +other things, such as you cannot avoid; the gold, for instance, +on the edges of books, or the shining of silk and damask, in +which lies a great part of the expression of their folds. +Observe also that there are very few things which are totally +without luster; you will frequently find a light which puzzles +you, on some apparently dull surface, to be the dim image +of another object.</p> + +<p>63. And now, as soon as you can conscientiously assure +me that with the point of the pen or pencil you can lay on +any form and shade you like, I give you leave to use the +brush with one color,—sepia, or blue black, or mixed cobalt +and blue black, or neutral tint; and this will much facilitate +your study, and refresh you. But, preliminary, you must +do one or two more exercises in tinting.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE IX.</p> + +<p>64. Prepare your color as directed for Exercise VII. +Take a brush full of it, and strike it on the paper in any +irregular shape; as the brush gets dry, sweep the surface of +the paper with it as if you were dusting the paper very +lightly; every such sweep of the brush will leave a number +of more or less minute interstices in the color. The lighter +and faster every dash the better. Then leave the whole to +dry; and, as soon as it is dry, with little color in your brush, +so that you can bring it to a fine point, fill up all the little +interstices one by one, so as to make the whole as even as you +can, and fill in the larger gaps with more color, always trying +to let the edges of the first and of the newly applied color +exactly meet, and not lap over each other. When your new +color dries, you will find it in places a little paler than the +first. Retouch it therefore, trying to get the whole to look +quite one piece. A very small bit of color thus filled up with +your very best care, and brought to look as if it had been +quite even from the first, will give you better practice and +more skill than a great deal filled in carelessly; so do it with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page037"></a>37</span> +your best patience, not leaving the most minute spot of +white; and do not fill in the large pieces first and then go +to the small, but quietly and steadily cover in the whole up +to a marked limit; then advance a little farther, and so on; +thus always seeing distinctly what is done and what undone.</p> + + +<p class="title1">EXERCISE X.</p> + +<p>65. Lay a coat of the blue, prepared as usual, over a whole +square of paper. Let it dry. Then another coat over four +fifths of the square, or thereabouts, leaving the edge rather +irregular than straight, and let it dry. Then another coat +over three fifths; another over two fifths; and the last over +one fifth; so that the square may present the appearance of +gradual increase in darkness in five bands, each darker than +the one beyond it. Then, with the brush rather dry (as in +the former exercise, when filling up the interstices), try, +with small touches, like those used in the pen etching, only +a little broader, to add shade delicately beyond each edge, so +as to lead the darker tints into the paler ones imperceptibly. +By touching the paper very lightly, and putting a multitude +of little touches, crossing and recrossing in every direction, +you will gradually be able to work up to the darker tints, +outside of each, so as quite to efface their edges, and unite +them tenderly with the next tint. The whole square, when +done, should look evenly shaded from dark to pale, with no +bars, only a crossing texture of touches, something like +chopped straw, over the whole.<a name="FnAnchor_13" href="#Footnote_13"><span class="sp">[13]</span></a></p> + +<p>66. Next, take your rounded pebble; arrange it in any +light and shade you like; outline it very loosely with the +pencil. Put on a wash of color, prepared <i>very</i> pale, quite +flat over all of it, except the highest light, leaving the edge +of your color quite sharp. Then another wash, extending +only over the darker parts, leaving the edge of that sharp +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page038"></a>38</span> +also, as in tinting the square. Then another wash over the +still darker parts, and another over the darkest, leaving each +edge to dry sharp. Then, with the small touches, efface the +edges, reinforce the darks, and work the whole delicately +together as you would with the pen, till you have got it to +the likeness of the true light and shade. You will find that +the tint underneath is a great help, and that you can now +get effects much more subtle and complete than with the pen +merely.</p> + +<p>67. The use of leaving the edges always sharp is that you +may not trouble or vex the color, but let it lie as it falls +suddenly on the paper: color looks much more lovely when +it has been laid on with a dash of the brush, and left to dry +in its own way, than when it has been dragged about and +disturbed; so that it is always better to let the edges and +forms be a little wrong, even if one cannot correct them +afterwards, than to lose this fresh quality of the tint. Very +great masters in water color can lay on the true forms at +once with a dash, and bad masters in water color lay on +grossly false forms with a dash, and leave them false; for +people in general, not knowing false from true, are as much +pleased with the appearance of power in the irregular blot +as with the presence of power in the determined one; but <i>we</i>, +in our beginnings, must do as much as we can with the broad +dash, and then correct with the point, till we are quite right. +We must take care to be right, at whatever cost of pains; +and then gradually we shall find we can be right with freedom.</p> + +<p>68. I have hitherto limited you to color mixed with two +or three teaspoonfuls of water; but, in finishing your light +and shade from the stone, you may, as you efface the edge +of the palest coat towards the light, use the color for the +small touches with more and more water, till it is so pale +as not to be perceptible. Thus you may obtain a perfect +gradation to the light. And in reinforcing the darks, when +they are very dark, you may use less and less water. If +you take the color tolerably dark on your brush, only always +liquid (not pasty), and dash away the superfluous color on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page039"></a>39</span> +blotting paper, you will find that, touching the paper very +lightly with the dry brush, you can, by repeated touches, +produce a dusty kind of bloom, very valuable in giving depth +to shadow; but it requires great patience and delicacy of +hand to do this properly. You will find much of this kind +of work in the grounds and shadows of William Hunt's +drawings.<a name="FnAnchor_14" href="#Footnote_14"><span class="sp">[14]</span></a></p> + +<p>69. As you get used to the brush and color, you will +gradually find out their ways for yourself, and get the +management of them. And you will often save yourself +much discouragement by remembering what I have so often +asserted,—that if anything goes wrong, it is nearly sure to +be refinement that is wanting, not force; and connection, not +alteration. If you dislike the state your drawing is in, do +not lose patience with it, nor dash at it, nor alter its plan, nor +rub it desperately out, at the place you think wrong; but +look if there are no shadows you can gradate more perfectly; +no little gaps and rents you can fill; no forms you can more +delicately define: and do not <i>rush</i> at any of the errors or +incompletions thus discerned, but efface or supply slowly, +and you will soon find your drawing take another look. A +very useful expedient in producing some effects, is to wet +the paper, and then lay the color on it, more or less wet, +according to the effect you want. You will soon see how +prettily it gradates itself as it dries; when dry, you can +reinforce it with delicate stippling when you want it darker. +Also, while the color is still damp on the paper, by drying +your brush thoroughly, and touching the color with the brush +so dried, you may take out soft lights with great tenderness +and precision. Try all sorts of experiments of this kind, +noticing how the color behaves; but remembering always +that your final results must be obtained, and can only be +obtained, by pure work with the point, as much as in the pen +drawing.</p> + +<p>70. You will find also, as you deal with more and more +complicated subjects, that Nature's resources in light and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page040"></a>40</span> +shade are so much richer than yours, that you cannot possibly +get all, or anything like all, the gradations of shadow in +any given group. When this is the case, determine first to +keep the broad masses of things distinct: if, for instance, +there is a green book, and a white piece of paper, and a +black inkstand in the group, be sure to keep the white paper +as a light mass, the green book as a middle tint mass, the +black inkstand as a dark mass; and do not shade the folds +in the paper, or corners of the book, so as to equal in depth +the darkness of the inkstand. The great difference between +the masters of light and shade, and imperfect artists, is the +power of the former to draw so delicately as to express form +in a dark-colored object with little light, and in a light-colored +object with little darkness; and it is better even to +leave the forms here and there unsatisfactorily rendered +than to lose the general relations of the great masses. And +this, observe, not because masses are grand or desirable +things in your composition (for with composition at present +you have nothing whatever to do), but because it is a fact +that things do so present themselves to the eyes of men, and +that we see paper, book, and inkstand as three separate +things, before we see the wrinkles, or chinks, or corners of +any of the three. Understand, therefore, at once, that no +detail can be as strongly expressed in drawing as it is in +reality; and strive to keep all your shadows and marks and +minor markings on the masses, lighter than they appear to +be in Nature; you are sure otherwise to get them too dark. +You will in doing this find that you cannot get the projection +of things sufficiently shown; but never mind that; there is no +need that they should appear to project, but great need that +their relations of shade to each other should be preserved. +All deceptive projection is obtained by partial exaggeration +of shadow; and whenever you see it, you may be sure the +drawing is more or less bad: a thoroughly fine drawing or +painting will always show a slight tendency towards flatness.</p> + +<p>71. Observe, on the other hand, that, however white an +object may be, there is always some small point of it whiter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page041"></a>41</span> +than the rest. You must therefore have a slight tone of gray +over everything in your picture except on the extreme high +lights; even the piece of white paper, in your subject, must +be toned slightly down, unless (and there are thousand +chances against its being so) it should all be turned so as fully +to front the light. By examining the treatment of the white +objects in any pictures accessible to you by Paul Veronese +or Titian, you will soon understand this.<a name="FnAnchor_15" href="#Footnote_15"><span class="sp">[15]</span></a></p> + +<p>72. As soon as you feel yourself capable of expressing +with the brush the undulations of surfaces and the relations of +masses, you may proceed to draw more complicated and beautiful +things.<a name="FnAnchor_16" href="#Footnote_16"><span class="sp">[16]</span></a> And first, the boughs of trees, now not in mere +dark relief, but in full rounding. Take the first bit of branch +or stump that comes to hand, with a fork in it; cut off the ends +of the forking branches, so as to leave the whole only about a +foot in length; get a piece of paper the same size, fix your bit +of branch in some place where its position will not be altered, +and draw it thoroughly, in all its light and shade, full size; +striving, above all things, to get an accurate expression of its +structure at the fork of the branch. When once you have +mastered the tree at its <i>armpits</i>, you will have little more +trouble with it.</p> + +<p>73. Always draw whatever the background happens to +be, exactly as you see it. Wherever you have fastened the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page042"></a>42</span> +bough, you must draw whatever is behind it, ugly or not, else +you will never know whether the light and shade are right; +they may appear quite wrong to you, only for want of the +background. And this general law is to be observed in all +your studies: whatever you draw, draw completely and unalteringly, +else you never know if what you have done is right, +or whether you <i>could</i> have done it rightly had you tried. +There is nothing <i>visible</i> out of which you may not get useful +practice.</p> + +<p>74. Next, to put the leaves on your boughs. Gather a +small twig with four or five leaves on it, put it into water, +put a sheet of light-colored or white paper behind it, so that +all the leaves may be relieved in dark from the white field; +then sketch in their dark shape carefully with pencil as you +did the complicated boughs, in order to be sure that all their +masses and interstices are right in shape before you begin +shading, and complete as far as you can with pen and ink, in +the manner of <a href="#fig_6">Fig. 6</a>, which is a young shoot of lilac.</p> + +<p>75. You will probably, in spite of all your pattern drawings, +be at first puzzled by leaf foreshortening; especially because +the look of retirement or projection depends not so +much on the perspective of the leaves themselves as on the +double sight of the two eyes. Now there are certain artifices +by which good painters can partly conquer this difficulty; as +slight exaggerations of force or color in the nearer parts, +and of obscurity in the more distant ones; but you must not +attempt anything of this kind. When you are first sketching +the leaves, shut one of your eyes, fix a point in the background, +to bring the point of one of the leaves against; and +so sketch the whole bough as you see it in a fixed position, +looking with one eye only. Your drawing never can be +made to look like the object itself, as you see that object with +<i>both</i> eyes,<a name="FnAnchor_17" href="#Footnote_17"><span class="sp">[17]</span></a> but it can be made perfectly like the object +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page043"></a>43</span> +seen with one, and you must be content when you have got +a resemblance on these terms.</p> + +<p>76. In order to get clearly at the notion of the thing to be +done, take a single long leaf, hold it with its point towards +you, and as flat as you can, so as to see nothing of it but its +thinness, as if you wanted to know how thin it was; outline +it so. Then slope it down gradually towards you, and +watch it as it lengthens out to its full length, held perpendicularly +down before you. Draw it in three or four different +positions between these extremes, with its ribs as they +appear in each position, and you will soon find out how it +must be.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_6"><img src="images/img043.jpg" width="263" height="600" alt="Fig. 6." title="Fig. 6." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 6.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>77. Draw first only two or three of the leaves; then +larger clusters; and practice, in this way, more and more +complicated pieces of bough and leafage, till you find you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page044"></a>44</span> +can master the most difficult arrangements, not consisting +of more than ten or twelve leaves. You will find as you +do this, if you have an opportunity of visiting any gallery +of pictures, that you take a much more lively interest than +before in the work of the great masters; you will see that +very often their best backgrounds are composed of little +more than a few sprays of leafage, carefully studied, +brought against the distant sky; and that another wreath or +two form the chief interest of their foregrounds. If you +live in London you may test your progress <i>accurately</i> by the +degree of admiration you feel for the leaves of vine round the +head of the Bacchus, in Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne. +All this, however, will not enable you to draw a mass of +foliage. You will find, on looking at any rich piece of +vegetation, that it is only one or two of the nearer clusters +that you can by any possibility draw in this complete manner. +The mass is too vast, and too intricate, to be thus +dealt with.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_7"><img src="images/img044.jpg" width="400" height="231" alt="Fig. 7." title="Fig. 7." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 7.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>78. You must now therefore have recourse to some confused +mode of execution, capable of expressing the confusion +of Nature. And, first, you must understand what the +character of that confusion is. If you look carefully at +the outer sprays of any tree at twenty or thirty yards' distance, +you will see them defined against the sky in masses, which, at +first, look quite definite; but if you examine them, you will +see, mingled with the real shapes of leaves, many indistinct +lines, which are, some of them, stalks of leaves, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page045"></a>45</span> +some, leaves seen with the edge turned towards you, and +coming into sight in a broken way; for, supposing the real +leaf shape to be as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_7">Fig. 7</a>, this, when removed some +yards from the eye, will appear dark against the sky, as at +<i>b</i>; then, when removed some yards farther still, the stalk +and point disappear altogether, the middle of the leaf becomes +little more than a line; and the result is the condition +at <i>c</i>, only with this farther subtlety in the look of it, +inexpressible in the wood-cut, that the stalk and point of the +leaf, though they have disappeared to the eye, have yet some +influence in <i>checking the light</i> at the places where they +exist, and cause a slight dimness about the part of the leaf +which remains visible, so that its perfect effect could only +be rendered by two layers of color, one subduing the sky +tone a little, the next drawing the broken portions of the +leaf, as at <i>c</i>, and carefully indicating the greater darkness +of the spot in the middle, where the under side of the +leaf is.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_8"><img src="images/img045.jpg" width="500" height="397" alt="Fig. 8." title="Fig. 8." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 8.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>This is the perfect theory of the matter. In practice we +cannot reach such accuracy; but we shall be able to render +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page046"></a>46</span> +the general look of the foliage satisfactorily by the following +mode of practice.</p> + +<p>79. Gather a spray of any tree, about a foot or eighteen +inches long. Fix it firmly by the stem in anything that +will support it steadily; put it about eight feet away from +you, or ten if you are far-sighted. Put a sheet of not very +white paper behind it, as usual. Then draw very carefully, +first placing them with pencil, and then filling them +up with ink, every leaf-mass and stalk of it in simple black +profile, as you see them against the paper: <a href="#fig_8">Fig. 8</a> is a +bough of Phillyrea so drawn. Do not be afraid of running +the leaves into a black mass when they come together; this +exercise is only to teach you what the actual shapes of such +masses are when seen against the sky.</p> + +<p>80. Make two careful studies of this kind of one bough of +every common tree,—oak, ash, elm, birch, beech, etc.; in +fact, if you are good, and industrious, you will make one +such study carefully at least three times a week, until you +have examples of every sort of tree and shrub you can get +branches of. You are to make two studies of each bough, +for this reason,—all masses of foliage have an upper and +under surface, and the side view of them, or profile, shows +a wholly different organization of branches from that seen +in the view from above. They are generally seen more or +less in profile, as you look at the whole tree, and Nature +puts her best composition into the profile arrangement. +But the view from above or below occurs not unfrequently, +also, and it is quite necessary you should draw it if you wish +to understand the anatomy of the tree. The difference between +the two views is often far greater than you could +easily conceive. For instance, in <a href="#fig_9">Fig. 9</a>, <i>a</i> is the upper view +and <i>b</i> the profile, of a single spray of Phillyrea. <a href="#fig_8">Fig. 8</a> is +an intermediate view of a larger bough; seen from beneath, +but at some lateral distance also.</p> + +<p>81. When you have done a few branches in this manner, +take one of the drawings you have made, and put it +first a yard away from you, then a yard and a half, then two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page047"></a>47</span> +yards; observe how the thinner stalks and leaves gradually +disappear, leaving only a vague and slight darkness where +they were; and make another study of the effect at each +distance, taking care to draw nothing more than you really +see, for in this consists all the difference between what +would be merely a miniature drawing of the leaves seen +near, and a full-size drawing of the same leaves at a distance. +By full size, I mean the size which they would really +appear of if their outline were traced through a pane of glass +held at the same distance from the eye at which you mean +to hold your drawing. You can always ascertain this full +size of any object by holding your paper upright before you, +at the distance from your eye at which you wish your drawing +to be seen. Bring its edge across the object you have to +draw, and mark upon this edge the points where the outline +of the object crosses, or goes behind, the edge of the paper. +You will always find it, thus measured, smaller than you +supposed.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_9"><img src="images/img047.jpg" width="400" height="187" alt="Fig. 9." title="Fig. 9." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 9.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>82. When you have made a few careful experiments of +this kind on your own drawings, (which are better for practice, +at first, than the real trees, because the black profile in +the drawing is quite stable, and does not shake, and is not +confused by sparkles of luster on the leaves,) you may try +the extremities of the real trees, only not doing much at a +time, for the brightness of the sky will dazzle and perplex +your sight. And this brightness causes, I believe, some +loss of the outline itself; at least the chemical action of the +light in a photograph extends much within the edges of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page048"></a>48</span> +leaves, and, as it were, eats them away, so that no tree extremity, +stand it ever so still, nor any other form coming +against bright sky, is truly drawn by a photograph; and if +you once succeed in drawing a few sprays rightly, you will +find the result much more lovely and interesting than any +photograph can be.</p> + +<p>83. All this difficulty, however, attaches to the rendering +merely the dark form of the sprays as they come against +the sky. Within those sprays, and in the heart of the tree, +there is a complexity of a much more embarrassing kind; +for nearly all leaves have some luster, and all are more or less +translucent (letting light through them); therefore, in any +given leaf, besides the intricacies of its own proper shadows +and foreshortenings, there are three series of circumstances +which alter or hide its forms. First, shadows cast on it by +other leaves,—often very forcibly. Secondly, light reflected +from its lustrous surface, sometimes the blue of the +sky, sometimes the white of clouds, or the sun itself flashing +like a star. Thirdly, forms and shadows of other leaves, seen +as darknesses through the translucent parts of the leaf; a +most important element of foliage effect, but wholly neglected +by landscape artists in general.</p> + +<p>84. The consequence of all this is, that except now and +then by chance, the form of a complete leaf is never seen; but +a marvelous and quaint confusion, very definite, indeed, in +its evidence of direction of growth, and unity of action, but +wholly indefinable and inextricable, part by part, by any +amount of patience. You cannot possibly work it out in facsimile, +though you took a twelvemonth's time to a tree; and +you must therefore try to discover some mode of execution +which will more or less imitate, by its own variety and +mystery, the variety and mystery of Nature, without +absolute delineation of detail.</p> + +<p>85. Now I have led you to this conclusion by observation +of tree form only, because in that the thing to be proved +is clearest. But no natural object exists which does not involve +in some part or parts of it this inimitableness, this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page049"></a>49</span> +mystery of quantity, which needs peculiarity of handling and +trick of touch to express it completely. If leaves are intricate, +so is moss, so is foam, so is rock cleavage, so are fur +and hair, and texture of drapery, and of clouds. And +although methods and dexterities of handling are wholly +useless if you have not gained first the thorough knowledge +of the form of the thing; so that if you cannot draw a branch +perfectly, then much less a tree; and if not a wreath of mist +perfectly, much less a flock of clouds; and if not a single +grass blade perfectly, much less a grass bank; yet having +once got this power over decisive form, you may safely—and +must, in order to perfection of work—carry out your knowledge +by every aid of method and dexterity of hand.</p> + +<p>86. But, in order to find out what method can do, you +must now look at Art as well as at Nature, and see what +means painters and engravers have actually employed for the +expression of these subtleties. Whereupon arises the question, +what opportunity you have to obtain engravings? +You ought, if it is at all in your power, to possess yourself +of a certain number of good examples of Turner's engraved +works: if this be not in your power, you must just make the +best use you can of the shop windows, or of any plates of +which you can obtain a loan. Very possibly, the difficulty of +getting sight of them may stimulate you to put them to better +use. But, supposing your means admit of your doing so, +possess yourself, first, of the illustrated edition either of +Rogers's Italy or Rogers's Poems, and then of about a dozen +of the plates named in the annexed lists. The prefixed letters +indicate the particular points deserving your study in +each engraving.<a name="FnAnchor_18" href="#Footnote_18"><span class="sp">[18]</span></a> Be sure, therefore, that your selection +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page050"></a>50</span> +includes, at all events, one plate marked with each letter. +Do not get more than twelve of these plates, nor even all the +twelve at first; for the more engravings you have, the less +attention you will pay to them. It is a general truth, that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page051"></a>51</span> +the enjoyment derivable from art cannot be increased in +quantity, beyond a certain point, by quantity of possession; +it is only spread, as it were, over a larger surface, and very +often dulled by finding ideas repeated in different works. +Now, for a beginner, it is always better that his attention +should be concentrated on one or two good things, and all his +enjoyment founded on them, than that he should look at +many, with divided thoughts. He has much to discover; and +his best way of discovering it is to think long over few +things, and watch them earnestly. It is one of the worst +errors of this age to try to know and to see too much: the +men who seem to know everything, never in reality know +anything rightly. Beware of <i>handbook</i> knowledge.</p> + +<p>87. These engravings are, in general, more for you to look +at than to copy; and they will be of more use to you when we +come to talk of composition, than they are at present; still, +it will do you a great deal of good, sometimes to try how +far you can get their delicate texture, or gradations of tone: +as your pen-and-ink drawing will be apt to incline too much +to a scratchy and broken kind of shade. For instance, the +texture of the white convent wall, and the drawing of its +tiled roof, in the vignette at p. 227 of Rogers's Poems, is as +exquisite as work can possibly be; and it will be a great and +profitable achievement if you can at all approach it. In like +manner, if you can at all imitate the dark distant country at +p. 7, or the sky at p. 80, of the same volume, or the foliage at +pp. 12 and 144, it will be good gain; and if you can once draw +the rolling clouds and running river at p. 9 of the Italy, or +the city in the vignette of Aosta at p. 25, or the moonlight +at p. 223, you will find that even Nature herself cannot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page052"></a>52</span> +afterwards very terribly puzzle you with her torrents, or +towers, or moonlight.</p> + +<p>88. You need not copy touch for touch, but try to get the +same effect. And if you feel discouraged by the delicacy +required, and begin to think that engraving is not drawing, +and that copying it cannot help you to draw, remember that it +differs from common drawing only by the difficulties it has +to encounter. You perhaps have got into a careless habit +of thinking that engraving is a mere business, easy enough +when one has got into the knack of it. On the contrary, +it is a form of drawing more difficult than common drawing, +by exactly so much as it is more difficult to cut steel than to +move the pencil over paper. It is true that there are certain +mechanical aids and methods which reduce it at certain +stages either to pure machine work, or to more or less a habit +of hand and arm; but this is not so in the foliage you are +trying to copy, of which the best and prettiest parts are +always etched—that is, drawn with a fine steel point and +free hand: only the line made is white instead of black, +which renders it much more difficult to judge of what you are +about. And the trying to copy these plates will be good +for you, because it will awaken you to the real labor and skill +of the engraver, and make you understand a little how people +must work, in this world, who have really to <i>do</i> anything in it.</p> + +<p>89. Do not, however, suppose that I give you the engraving +as a model—far from it; but it is necessary you should be +able to do as well<a name="FnAnchor_19" href="#Footnote_19"><span class="sp">[19]</span></a> before you think of doing better, and +you will find many little helps and hints in the various work +of it. Only remember that <i>all</i> engravers' foregrounds are +bad; whenever you see the peculiar wriggling parallel lines +of modern engravings become distinct, you must not copy; +nor admire: it is only the softer masses, and distances, and +portions of the foliage in the plates marked <i>f</i>, which you +may copy. The best for this purpose, if you can get it, is the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page053"></a>53</span> +"Chain bridge over the Tees," of the England series; the +thicket on the right is very beautiful and instructive, and +very like Turner. The foliage in the "Ludlow" and +"Powis" is also remarkably good.</p> + +<p>90. Besides these line engravings, and to protect you from +what harm there is in their influence, you are to provide +yourself, if possible, with a Rembrandt etching, or a photograph +of one (of figures, not landscape). It does not matter +of what subject, or whether a sketchy or finished one, +but the sketchy ones are generally cheapest, and will teach +you most. Copy it as well as you can, noticing especially +that Rembrandt's most rapid lines have steady purpose; and +that they are laid with almost inconceivable precision when +the object becomes at all interesting. The "Prodigal Son," +"Death of the Virgin," "Abraham and Isaac," and such +others, containing incident and character rather than chiaroscuro, +will be the most instructive. You can buy one; +copy it well; then exchange it, at little loss, for another; and +so, gradually, obtain a good knowledge of his system. Whenever +you have an opportunity of examining his work at +museums, etc., do so with the greatest care, not looking at +<i>many</i> things, but a long time at each. You must also provide +yourself, if possible, with an engraving of Albert Dürer's. +This you will not be able to copy; but you must keep it +beside you, and refer to it as a standard of precision in line. +If you can get one with a <i>wing</i> in it, it will be best. The +crest with the cock, that with the skull and satyr, and the +"Melancholy," are the best you could have, but any will do. +Perfection in chiaroscuro drawing lies between these two +masters, Rembrandt and Dürer. Rembrandt is often too +loose and vague; and Dürer has little or no effect of mist or +uncertainty. If you can see anywhere a drawing by Leonardo, +you will find it balanced between the two characters; +but there are no engravings which present this perfection, +and your style will be best formed, therefore, by alternate +study of Rembrandt and Dürer. Lean rather to Dürer; it +is better, for amateurs, to err on the side of precision than on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page054"></a>54</span> +that of vagueness: and though, as I have just said, you cannot +copy a Dürer, yet try every now and then a quarter of an +inch square or so, and see how much nearer you can come; +you cannot possibly try to draw the leafy crown of the +"Melancholia" too often.</p> + +<p>91. If you cannot get either a Rembrandt or a Dürer, you +may still learn much by carefully studying any of George +Cruikshank's etchings, or Leech's wood-cuts in Punch, on +the free side; with Alfred Rethel's and Richter's<a name="FnAnchor_20" href="#Footnote_20"><span class="sp">[20]</span></a> on the +severe side. But in so doing you will need to notice the +following points:</p> + +<p>92. When either the material (as the copper or wood) or +the time of an artist does not permit him to make a perfect +drawing,—that is to say, one in which no lines shall be prominently +visible,—and he is reduced to show the black lines, +either drawn by the pen, or on the wood, it is better to make +these lines help, as far as may be, the expression of texture +and form. You will thus find many textures, as of cloth or +grass or flesh, and many subtle effects of light, expressed by +Leech with zigzag or crossed or curiously broken lines; and +you will see that Alfred Rethel and Richter constantly +express the direction and rounding of surfaces by the direction +of the lines which shade them. All these various means +of expression will be useful to you, as far as you can learn +them, provided you remember that they are merely a kind of +shorthand; telling certain facts not in quite the right way, +but in the only possible way under the conditions: and provided +in any after use of such means, you never try to show +your own dexterity; but only to get as much record of the +object as you can in a given time; and that you continually +make efforts to go beyond such shorthand, and draw portions +of the objects rightly.</p> + +<p>93. And touching this question of direction of lines as indicating +that of surface, observe these few points:</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_10"><img src="images/img055.jpg" width="550" height="296" alt="Fig. 10." title="Fig. 10." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 10.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>If lines are to be distinctly shown, it is better that, so far +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page055"></a>55</span> +as they <i>can</i> indicate anything by their direction, they should +explain rather than oppose the general character of the +object. Thus, in the piece of wood-cut from Titian, <a href="#fig_10">Fig. 10</a>, +the lines are serviceable by expressing, not only the shade of +the trunk, but partly also its roundness, and the flow of its +grain. And Albert Dürer, whose work was chiefly engraving, +sets himself always thus to make his lines as <i>valuable</i> +as possible; telling much by them, both of shade and direction +of surface: and if you were always to be limited to engraving +on copper (and did not want to express effects of mist or +darkness, as well as delicate forms), Albert Dürer's way of +work would be the best example for you. But, inasmuch as +the perfect way of drawing is by shade without lines, and +the great painters always conceive their subject as complete, +even when they are sketching it most rapidly, you will find +that, when they are not limited in means, they do not much +trust to direction of line, but will often scratch in the shade +of a rounded surface with nearly straight lines, that is to +say, with the easiest and quickest lines possible to themselves. +When the hand is free, the easiest line for it to draw is one +inclining from the left upwards to the right, or vice versâ, +from the right downwards to the left; and when done very +quickly, the line is hooked a little at the end by the effort +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page056"></a>56</span> +at return to the next. Hence, you will always find the pencil, +chalk, or pen sketch of a <i>very</i> great master full of these kind +of lines; and even if he draws carefully, you will find him +using simple straight lines from left to right, when an inferior +master would have used curved ones. <a href="#fig_11">Fig. 11</a> is a +fair facsimile of part of a sketch of Raphael's, which exhibits +these characters very distinctly. Even the careful +drawings of Leonardo da Vinci are shaded most commonly +with straight lines; and you may always assume it as a point +increasing the probability of a drawing being by a great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page057"></a>57</span> +master if you find rounded surfaces, such as those of cheeks +or lips, shaded with straight lines.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_11"><img src="images/img056.jpg" width="325" height="600" alt="Fig. 11." title="Fig. 11." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 11.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>94. But you will also now understand how easy it must be +for dishonest dealers to forge or imitate scrawled sketches +like <a href="#fig_11">Fig. 11</a>, and pass them for the work of great masters; +and how the power of determining the genuineness of a drawing +depends entirely on your knowing the facts of the objects +drawn, and perceiving whether the hasty handling is <i>all</i> +conducive to the expression of those truths. In a great +man's work, at its fastest, no line is thrown away, and it is +not by the rapidity, but the <i>economy</i> of the execution that +you know him to be great. Now to judge of this economy, +you must know exactly what he meant to do, otherwise you +cannot of course discern how far he has done it; that is, +you must know the beauty and nature of the thing he was +drawing. All judgment of art thus finally founds itself on +knowledge of Nature.</p> + +<p>95. But farther observe, that this scrawled, or economic, +or impetuous execution is never affectedly impetuous. If +a great man is not in a hurry, he never pretends to be; if he +has no eagerness in his heart, he puts none into his hand; +if he thinks his effect would be better got with <i>two</i> lines, +he never, to show his dexterity, tries to do it with one. Be +assured, therefore (and this is a matter of great importance), +that you will never produce a great drawing by imitating +the execution of a great master. Acquire his knowledge +and share his feelings, and the easy execution will fall +from your hand as it did from his: but if you merely scrawl +because he scrawled, or blot because he blotted, you will not +only never advance in power, but every able draughtsman, +and every judge whose opinion is worth having, will know you +for a cheat, and despise you accordingly.</p> + +<p>96. Again, observe respecting the use of outline:</p> + +<p>All merely outlined drawings are bad, for the simple +reason, that an artist of any power can always do more, and +tell more, by quitting his outlines occasionally, and scratching +in a few lines for shade, than he can by restricting himself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page058"></a>58</span> +to outline only. Hence the fact of his so restricting +himself, whatever may be the occasion, shows him to be a +bad draughtsman, and not to know how to apply his power +economically. This hard law, however, bears only on drawings +meant to remain in the state in which you see them; not +on those which were meant to be proceeded with, or for some +mechanical use. It is sometimes necessary to draw pure +outlines, as an incipient arrangement of a composition, to +be filled up afterwards with color, or to be pricked through +and used as patterns or tracings; but if, with no such ultimate +object, making the drawing wholly for its own sake, +and meaning it to remain in the state he leaves it, an artist +restricts himself to outline, he is a bad draughtsman, and his +work is bad. There is no exception to this law. A good +artist habitually sees masses, not edges, and can in every case +make his drawing more expressive (with any given quantity +of work) by rapid shade than by contours; so that all good +work whatever is more or less touched with shade, and more +or less interrupted as outline.</p> + + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figleft1"> + <a name="fig_12"><img src="images/img058.jpg" width="90" height="114" alt="Fig. 12." title="Fig. 12." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 12.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>97. Hence, the published works of Retzsch, and all the +English imitations of them, and all outline engravings from +pictures, are bad work, and only serve to corrupt the public +taste. And of such outlines, the worst are those which are +darkened in some part of their course by way of expressing +the dark side, as Flaxman's from Dante, and such others; +because an outline can only be true so long as it accurately +represents the form of the given object with <i>one</i> of its edges. +Thus, the outline <i>a</i> and the outline <a name="error1"></a><span class="correction" title="Originally was 'd'."><i>b</i></span>, <a href="#fig_12">Fig. 12</a>, are +both <i>true</i> outlines of a ball; because, however thick +the line may be, whether we take the interior or +exterior edge of it, that edge of it always draws +a true circle. But <i>c</i> is a false outline of a ball, +because either the inner or outer edge of the +black line must be an untrue circle, else the line could not +be thicker in one place than another. Hence all "force," +as it is called, is gained by falsification of the contours; so +that no artist whose eye is true and fine could endure to look +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page059"></a>59</span> +at it. It does indeed often happen that a painter, sketching +rapidly, and trying again and again for some line which +he cannot quite strike, blackens or loads the first line by +setting others beside and across it; and then a careless observer +supposes it has been thickened on purpose: or, sometimes +also, at a place where shade is afterwards to inclose the +form, the painter will strike a broad dash of this shade beside +his outline at once, looking as if he meant to thicken the +outline; whereas this broad line is only the first installment of +the future shadow, and the outline is really drawn with its +inner edge.<a name="FnAnchor_21" href="#Footnote_21"><span class="sp">[21]</span></a> And thus, far from good draughtsmen darkening +the lines which turn away from the light, the <i>tendency</i> +with them is rather to darken them towards the light, for it +is there in general that shade will ultimately inclose them. +The best example of this treatment that I know is Raphael's +sketch, in the Louvre, of the head of the angel pursuing +Heliodorus, the one that shows part of the left eye; where +the dark strong lines which terminate the nose and forehead +towards the light are opposed to tender and light ones behind +the ear, and in other places towards the shade. You will +see in <a href="#fig_11">Fig. 11</a> the same principle variously exemplified; the +principal dark lines, in the head and drapery of the arms, +being on the side turned to the light.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_13"><img src="images/img060.jpg" width="650" height="387" alt="Fig. 13." title="Fig. 13." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 13.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>98. All these refinements and ultimate principles, however, +do not affect your drawing for the present. You must +try to make your outlines as <i>equal</i> as possible; and employ +pure outline only for the two following purposes: either (1.) +to steady your hand, as in Exercise II., for if you cannot +draw the line itself, you will never be able to terminate your +shadow in the precise shape required, when the line is absent; +or (2.) to give you shorthand memoranda of forms, +when you are pressed for time. Thus the forms of distant +trees in groups are defined, for the most part, by the light +edge of the rounded mass of the nearer one being shown +against the darker part of the rounded mass of a more distant +one; and to draw this properly, nearly as much work is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page060"></a>60</span> +required to round each tree as to round the stone in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. +5</a>. Of course you cannot often get time to do this; but if +you mark the terminal line of each tree as is done by Dürer in +<a href="#fig_13">Fig. 13</a>, you will get a most useful memorandum of their +arrangement, and a very interesting drawing. Only observe +in doing this, you must not, because the procedure is a quick +one, hurry that procedure itself. You will find, on copying +that bit of Dürer, that every one of his lines is firm, deliberate, +and accurately descriptive as far as it goes. It means a +bush of such a size and such a shape, definitely observed and +set down; it contains a true "signalement" of every nut-tree, +and apple-tree, and higher bit of hedge, all round that village. +If you have not time to draw thus carefully, do not +draw at all—you are merely wasting your work and spoiling +your taste. When you have had four or five years' practice +you may be able to make useful memoranda at a rapid rate, +but not yet; except sometimes of light and shade, in a way +of which I will tell you presently. And this use of outline, +note farther, is wholly confined to objects which have edges +or limits. You can outline a tree or a stone, when it rises +against another tree or stone; but you cannot outline folds in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page061"></a>61</span> +drapery, or waves in water; if these are to be expressed at +all, it must be by some sort of shade, and therefore the rule +that no good drawing can consist throughout of pure outline +remains absolute. You see, in that wood-cut of Dürer's, his +reason for even limiting himself so much to outline as he has, +in those distant woods and plains, is that he may leave them +in bright light, to be thrown out still more by the dark sky +and the dark village spire: and the scene becomes real and +sunny only by the addition of these shades.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_14"><img src="images/img061.jpg" width="400" height="328" alt="Fig. 14." title="Fig. 14." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 14.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>99. Understanding, then, thus much of the use of outline, +we will go back to our question about tree-drawing left +unanswered at page 48.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_15"><img src="images/img062.jpg" width="310" height="500" alt="Fig. 15." title="Fig. 15." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 15.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>We were, you remember, in pursuit of mystery among +the leaves. Now, it is quite easy to obtain mystery and disorder, +to any extent; but the difficulty is to keep organization +in the midst of mystery. And you will never succeed in +doing this unless you lean always to the definite side, and +allow yourself rarely to become quite vague, at least through +all your early practice. So, after your single groups of +leaves, your first step must be to conditions like Figs. <a href="#fig_14">14</a> and +<a href="#fig_15">15</a>, which are careful facsimiles of two portions of a beautiful +wood-cut of Dürer's, the "Flight into Egypt." Copy +these carefully,—never mind how little at a time, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page062"></a>62</span> +thoroughly; then trace the Dürer, and apply it to your +drawing, and do not be content till the one fits the other, else +your eye is not true enough to carry you safely through +meshes of real leaves. And in the course of doing this, you +will find that not a line nor dot of Dürer's can be displaced +without harm; that all add to the effect, and either express +something, or illumine something, or relieve something. +If, afterwards, you copy any of the pieces of modern tree +drawing, of which so many rich examples are given constantly +in our cheap illustrated periodicals (any of the Christmas +numbers of last year's <i>Illustrated News</i> or others are +full of them), you will see that, though good and forcible +general effect is produced, the lines are thrown in by thousands +without special intention, and might just as well go one way +as another, so only that there be enough of them to produce +all together a well-shaped effect of intricacy: and you will +find that a little careless scratching about with your pen will +bring you very near the same result without an effort; but +that no scratching of pen, nor any fortunate chance, nor anything +but downright skill and thought, will imitate so much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page063"></a>63</span> +as one leaf of Dürer's. Yet there is considerable intricacy +and glittering confusion in the interstices of those vine leaves +of his, as well as of the grass.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_16"><img src="images/img063.jpg" width="650" height="571" alt="Fig. 16." title="Fig. 16." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 16.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>100. When you have got familiarized to his firm manner, +you may draw from Nature as much as you like in the same +way; and when you are tired of the intense care required for +this, you may fall into a little more easy massing of the leaves, +as in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. 10</a> (<a href="#page055">p. 55</a>). This is facsimilëd from an engraving +after Titian, but an engraving not quite first-rate in manner, +the leaves being a little too formal; still, it is a good enough +model for your times of rest; and when you cannot carry the +thing even so far as this, you may sketch the forms of the +masses, as in <a href="#fig_16">Fig. 16</a>,<a name="FnAnchor_22" href="#Footnote_22"><span class="sp">[22]</span></a> taking care always to have thorough +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page064"></a>64</span> +command over your hand; that is, not to let the mass take a +free shape because your hand ran glibly over the paper, but +because in Nature it has actually a free and noble shape, +and you have faithfully followed the same.</p> + +<p>101. And now that we have come to questions of noble +shape, as well as true shape, and that we are going to draw +from Nature at our pleasure, other considerations enter into +the business, which are by no means confined to first practice, +but extend to all practice; these (as this letter is long enough, +I should think, to satisfy even the most exacting of correspondents) +I will arrange in a second letter; praying you +only to excuse the tiresomeness of this first one—tiresomeness +inseparable from directions touching the beginning of any +art,—and to believe me, even though I am trying to set you +to dull and hard work,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 3.5em; ">Very faithfully yours,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; "><span class="sc">J. Ruskin.</span></p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1" href="#FnAnchor_1">[1]</a> (<i>N.B.</i>—This note is only for the satisfaction of incredulous or curious +readers. You may miss it if you are in a hurry, or are willing to take +the statement in the text on trust.)</p> + +<p>The perception of solid Form is entirely a matter of experience. We +see nothing but flat colors; and it is only by a series of experiments that +we find out that a stain of black or gray indicates the dark side of a solid +substance, or that a faint hue indicates that the object in which it appears +is far away. The whole technical power of painting depends on our +recovery of what may be called the <i>innocence of the eye</i>; that is to say, of +a sort of childish perception of these flat stains of color, merely as such, +without consciousness of what they signify,—as a blind man would see +them if suddenly gifted with sight.</p> + +<p>For instance: when grass is lighted strongly by the sun in certain directions, +it is turned from green into a peculiar and somewhat dusty-looking +yellow. If we had been born blind, and were suddenly endowed with +sight on a piece of grass thus lighted in some parts by the sun, it would +appear to us that part of the grass was green, and part a dusty yellow (very +nearly of the color of primroses); and, if there were primroses near, we +should think that the sunlighted grass was another mass of plants of the +same sulphur-yellow color. We should try to gather some of them, and +then find that the color went away from the grass when we stood between +it and the sun, but not from the primroses; and by a series of experiments +we should find out that the sun was really the cause of the color in the +one,—not in the other. We go through such processes of experiment +unconsciously in childhood; and having once come to conclusions touching +the signification of certain colors, we always suppose that we <i>see</i> what we +only know, and have hardly any consciousness of the real aspect of the +signs we have learned to interpret. Very few people have any idea that +sunlighted grass is yellow.</p> + +<p>Now, a highly accomplished artist has always reduced himself as nearly +as possible to this condition of infantine sight. He sees the colors of nature +exactly as they are, and therefore perceives at once in the sunlighted +grass the precise relation between the two colors that form its shade and +light. To him it does not seem shade and light, but bluish green barred +with gold.</p> + +<p>Strive, therefore, first of all, to convince yourself of this great fact +about sight. This, in your hand, which you know by experience and +touch to be a book, is to your eye nothing but a patch of white, variously +gradated and spotted; this other thing near you, which by experience you +know to be a table, is to your eye only a patch of brown, variously darkened +and veined; and so on: and the whole art of Painting consists merely +in perceiving the shape and depth of these patches of color, and putting +patches of the same size, depth, and shape on canvas. The only obstacle +to the success of painting is, that many of the real colors are brighter and +paler than it is possible to put on canvas: we must put darker ones to +represent them.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2" href="#FnAnchor_2">[2]</a> Stale crumb of bread is better, if you are making a delicate drawing, +than india-rubber, for it disturbs the surface of the paper less: but it +crumbles about the room and makes a mess; and, besides, you waste the +good bread, which is wrong; and your drawing will not for a long while +be worth the crumbs. So use india-rubber very lightly; or, if heavily, +pressing it only, not passing it over the paper, and leave what pencil +marks will not come away so, without minding them. In a finished drawing +the uneffaced penciling is often serviceable, helping the general tone, +and enabling you to take out little bright lights.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3" href="#FnAnchor_3">[3]</a> What is usually so much sought after under the term "freedom" is +the character of the drawing of a great master in a hurry, whose hand is +so thoroughly disciplined, that when pressed for time he can let it fly as +it will, and it will not go far wrong. But the hand of a great master at +real <i>work</i> is <i>never</i> free: its swiftest dash is under perfect government. +Paul Veronese or Tintoret could pause within a hair's breadth of any +appointed mark, in their fastest touches; and follow, within a hair's +breadth, the previously intended curve. You must never, therefore, aim +at freedom. It is not required of your drawing that it should be free, but +that it should be right; in time you will be able to do right easily, and +then your work will be free in the best sense; but there is no merit in +doing wrong easily.</p> + +<p>These remarks, however, do not apply to the lines used in shading, +which, it will be remembered, are to be made as quickly as possible. The +reason of this is, that the quicker a line is drawn, the lighter it is at the +ends, and therefore the more easily joined with other lines, and concealed +by them; the object in perfect shading being to conceal the lines as much +as possible.</p> + +<p>And observe, in this exercise, the object is more to get firmness of hand +than accuracy of eye for outline; for there are no outlines in Nature, and +the ordinary student is sure to draw them falsely if he draws them at all. +Do not, therefore, be discouraged if you find mistakes continue to occur +in your outlines; be content at present if you find your hand gaining command +over the curves.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4" href="#FnAnchor_4">[4]</a> If you can get any pieces of dead white porcelain, not glazed, they +will be useful models.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_5" href="#FnAnchor_5">[5]</a> Artists who glance at this book may be surprised at this permission. +My chief reason is, that I think it more necessary that the pupil's eye +should be trained to accurate perception of the relations of curve and +right lines, by having the latter absolutely true, than that he should +practice drawing straight lines. But also, I believe, though I am not +quite sure of this, that he never <i>ought</i> to be able to draw a straight line. +I do not believe a perfectly trained hand ever can draw a line without +some curvature in it, or some variety of direction. Prout could draw a +straight line, but I do not believe Raphael could, nor Tintoret. A great +draughtsman can, as far as I have observed, draw every line <i>but</i> a straight +one.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_6" href="#FnAnchor_6">[6]</a> Or, if you feel able to do so, scratch them in with confused quick +touches, indicating the general shape of the cloud or mist of twigs round +the main branches; but do not take much trouble about them.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_7" href="#FnAnchor_7">[7]</a> It is more difficult, at first, to get, in color, a narrow gradation than +an extended one; but the ultimate difficulty is, as with the pen, to make +the gradation go <i>far</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_8" href="#FnAnchor_8">[8]</a> Of course, all the columns of color are to be of equal length.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_9" href="#FnAnchor_9">[9]</a> The degree of darkness you can reach with the given color is always +indicated by the color of the solid cake in the box.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_10" href="#FnAnchor_10">[10]</a> The figure <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. 5</a>, is very dark, but this is to give an example of +all kinds of depths of tint, without repeated figures.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_11" href="#FnAnchor_11">[11]</a> Nearly neutral in ordinary circumstances, but yet with quite different +tones in its neutrality, according to the colors of the various reflected rays +that compose it.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_12" href="#FnAnchor_12">[12]</a> If we had any business with the reasons of this, I might perhaps be +able to show you some metaphysical ones for the enjoyment, by truly +artistical minds, of the changes wrought by light and shade and perspective +in patterned surfaces; but this is at present not to the point; +and all that you need to know is that the drawing of such things is good +exercise, and moreover a kind of exercise which Titian, Veronese, Tintoret, +Giorgione, and Turner, all enjoyed, and strove to excel in.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_13" href="#FnAnchor_13">[13]</a> The use of acquiring this habit of execution is that you may be able, +when you begin to color, to let one hue be seen in minute portions, gleaming +between the touches of another.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_14" href="#FnAnchor_14">[14]</a> William Hunt, of the Old Water-color Society.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_15" href="#FnAnchor_15">[15]</a> At Marlborough House, [in 1857] among the four principal examples +of Turner's later water-color drawing, perhaps the most neglected was +that of fishing-boats and fish at sunset. It is one of his most wonderful +works, though unfinished. If you examine the larger white fishing-boat +sail, you will find it has a little spark of pure white in its right-hand upper +corner, about as large as a minute pin's head, and that all the surface of +the sail is gradated to that focus. Try to copy this sail once or twice, +and you will begin to understand Turner's work. Similarly, the wing of +the Cupid in Correggio's large picture in the National Gallery is focused +to two little grains of white at the top of it. The points of light on the +white flower in the wreath round the head of the dancing child-faun, in +Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne, exemplify the same thing.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_16" href="#FnAnchor_16">[16]</a> I shall not henceforward number the exercises recommended; as they +are distinguished only by increasing difficulty of subject, not by difference +of method.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_17" href="#FnAnchor_17">[17]</a> If you understand the principle of the stereoscope you will know +why; if not, it does not matter; trust me for the truth of the statement, +as I cannot explain the principle without diagrams and much loss of time. +See, however, <a href="#note1">Note 1</a>, in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_18" href="#FnAnchor_18">[18]</a> The plates marked with a star are peculiarly desirable. See note at +the end of Appendix I. The letters mean as follows:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="100%" summary="table"> + +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>a</i> </td><td class="lsp">stands for architecture, including distant grouping of towns, cottages, etc.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>c</i> </td><td class="lsp">clouds, including mist and aërial effects.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>f</i> </td><td class="lsp">foliage.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>g</i> </td><td class="lsp">ground, including low hills, when not rocky.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>l</i> </td><td class="lsp">effects of light.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>m</i> </td><td class="lsp">mountains, or bold rocky ground.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>p</i> </td><td class="lsp">power of general arrangement and effect.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>q</i> </td><td class="lsp">quiet water.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp"><i>r</i> </td><td class="lsp">running or rough water; or rivers, even if calm, when their line of flow + is beautifully marked.</td> </tr> + +</table> + +<table class="nobctr" width="100%" summary="table"> +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>From the England Series.</i></td></tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a c f r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Arundel. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a f p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Lancaster. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a f l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Ashby de la Zouche. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c l m r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Lancaster Sands.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a l q r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Barnard Castle.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a g f.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Launceston.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>f m r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Bolton Abbey. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c f l r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Leicester Abbey. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>f g r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Buckfastleigh.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Ludlow. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a l p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Caernarvon. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a f l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Margate. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>c l q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Castle Upnor. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a l q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Orford. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a f l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Colchester. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Plymouth. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>l q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Cowes. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Powis Castle. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>c f p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Dartmouth Cove.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>l m q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Prudhoe Castle. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>c l q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Flint Castle.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f l m r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Chain Bridge over Tees.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a f g l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Knaresborough.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>m q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Ulleswater. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>m r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">High Force of Tees.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Valle Crucis. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a f q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Trematon. </td> +<td class="rsp1"> </td><td class="lsp"> </td> </tr> + + +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>From the Keepsake.</i></td></tr> + + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>m p q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Arona. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">St. Germain en Laye. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>l m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Drachenfels.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>l p q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Florence. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>f l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Marly.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>l m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Ballyburgh Ness.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>From the Bible Series.</i></td></tr> + + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>f m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Mount Lebanon. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c l p q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Solomon's Pools.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Rock of Moses at Sinai. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Santa Saba. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a l m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Jericho. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a l.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Pool of Bethesda. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a c g.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Joppa. </td> +<td class="rsp1"> </td><td class="lsp"> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>From Scott's Works.</i></td></tr> + + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>p r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Melrose.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Glencoe. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>f r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Dryburgh.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c m.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Loch Coriskin.* </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>a l.</i> Caerlaverock.</td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cen" colspan="4"><i>From the Rivers of France.</i></td></tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a q.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Château of Amboise, with large bridge on right. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Pont de l'Arche. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>l p r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Rouen, looking down the river, poplars on right.* </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>f l p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">View on the Seine, with avenue. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a l p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Rouen, with cathedral and rainbow, avenue on left. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>a c p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Bridge of Meulan. </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="rsp"><i>a p.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Rouen Cathedral. </td> +<td class="rsp1"><i>c g p r.</i> </td><td class="lsp">Caudebec.* </td> </tr> + +</table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_19" href="#FnAnchor_19">[19]</a> As <i>well</i>;—not as minutely: the diamond cuts finer lines on the steel +than you can draw on paper with your pen; but you must be able to get +tones as even, and touches as firm.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_20" href="#FnAnchor_20">[20]</a> See, for account of these plates, the Appendix on "Works to be +studied."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_21" href="#FnAnchor_21">[21]</a> See <a href="#note2">Note 2</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_22" href="#FnAnchor_22">[22]</a> This sketch is not of a tree standing on its head, though it looks like +it. You will find it explained presently.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page065"></a>65</span></p> + +<h3>LETTER II.</h3> + +<h5>SKETCHING FROM NATURE.</h5> + + +<p>102. <span class="sc">My dear Reader</span>,—The work we have already gone +through together has, I hope, enabled you to draw with fair +success either rounded and simple masses, like stones, or +complicated arrangements of form, like those of leaves; provided +only these masses or complexities will stay quiet for +you to copy, and do not extend into quantity so great as to +baffle your patience. But if we are now to go out to the +fields, and to draw anything like a complete landscape, +neither of these conditions will any more be observed for us. +The clouds will not wait while we copy their heaps or clefts; +the shadows will escape from us as we try to shape them, +each, in its stealthy minute march, still leaving light where +its tremulous edge had rested the moment before, and involving +in eclipse objects that had seemed safe from its influence; +and instead of the small clusters of leaves which we +could reckon point by point, embarrassing enough even +though numerable, we have now leaves as little to be counted +as the sands of the sea, and restless, perhaps, as its foam.</p> + +<p>103. In all that we have to do now, therefore, direct imitation +becomes more or less impossible. It is always to be +aimed at so far as it <i>is</i> possible; and when you have time +and opportunity, some portions of a landscape may, as you +gain greater skill, be rendered with an approximation almost +to mirrored portraiture. Still, whatever skill you may +reach, there will always be need of judgment to choose, and +of speed to seize, certain things that are principal or fugitive; +and you must give more and more effort daily to the observance +of characteristic points, and the attainment of concise +methods.</p> + +<p>104. I have directed your attention early to foliage for +two reasons. First, that it is always accessible as a study; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page066"></a>66</span> +and secondly, that its modes of growth present simple examples +of the importance of leading or governing lines. +It is by seizing these leading lines, when we cannot seize all, +that likeness and expression are given to a portrait, and +grace and a kind of vital truth to the rendering of every +natural form. I call it vital truth, because these chief lines +are always expressive of the past history and present action +of the thing. They show in a mountain, first, how it was +built or heaped up; and secondly, how it is now being worn +away, and from what quarter the wildest storms strike it. +In a tree, they show what kind of fortune it has had to endure +from its childhood: how troublesome trees have come in its +way, and pushed it aside, and tried to strangle or starve it; +where and when kind trees have sheltered it, and grown up +lovingly together with it, bending as it bent; what winds torment +it most; what boughs of it behave best, and bear most +fruit; and so on. In a wave or cloud, these leading lines +show the run of the tide and of the wind, and the sort of +change which the water or vapor is at any moment enduring +in its form, as it meets shore, or counter-wave, or melting sunshine. +Now remember, nothing distinguishes great men +from inferior men more than their always, whether in life or +in art, <i>knowing the way things are going</i>. Your dunce +thinks they are standing still, and draws them all fixed; your +wise man sees the change or changing in them, and draws +them so,—the animal in its motion, the tree in its growth, +the cloud in its course, the mountain in its wearing away. +Try always, whenever you look at a form, to see the lines in +it which have had power over its past fate and will have +power over its futurity. Those are its <i>awful</i> lines; see that +you seize on those, whatever else you miss. Thus, the leafage +in <a href="#fig_16">Fig. 16</a> (<a href="#page063">p. 63</a>) grew round the root of a stone pine, +on the brow of a crag at Sestri near Genoa, and all the +sprays of it are thrust away in their first budding by the +great rude root, and spring out in every direction round it, +as water splashes when a heavy stone is thrown into it. +Then, when they have got clear of the root, they begin to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page067"></a>67</span> +bend up again; some of them, being little stone pines themselves, +have a great notion of growing upright, if they can; +and this struggle of theirs to recover their straight road +towards the sky, after being obliged to grow sideways in +their early years, is the effort that will mainly influence their +future destiny, and determine if they are to be crabbed, +forky pines, striking from that rock of Sestri, whose clefts +nourish them, with bared red lightning of angry arms +towards the sea; or if they are to be goodly and solemn +pines, with trunks like pillars of temples, and the purple +burning of their branches sheathed in deep globes of cloudy +green. Those, then, are their fateful lines; see that you give +that spring and resilience, whatever you leave ungiven: +depend upon it, their chief beauty is in these.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_17"><img src="images/img067.jpg" width="400" height="188" alt="Fig. 17." title="Fig. 17." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 17.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>105. So in trees in general, and bushes, large or small, +you will notice that, though the boughs spring irregularly and +at various angles, there is a tendency in all to stoop less and +less as they near the top of the tree. This structure, typified +in the simplest possible terms at <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_17">Fig. 17</a>, is common to +all trees that I know of, and it gives them a certain plumy +character, and aspect of unity in the hearts of their branches +which are essential to their beauty. The stem does not +merely send off a wild branch here and there to take its own +way, but all the branches share in one great fountain-like impulse; +each has a curve and a path to take, which fills a definite +place, and each terminates all its minor branches at its +outer extremity, so as to form a greater outer curve, whose +character and proportion are peculiar for each species. That +is to say, the general type or idea of a tree is not as <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_17">Fig. +17</a>, but as <i>b</i>, in which, observe, the boughs all carry their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page068"></a>68</span> +minor divisions right out to the bounding curve; not but +that smaller branches, by thousands, terminate in the heart +of the tree, but the idea and main purpose in every branch +are to carry all its child branches well out to the air and light, +and let each of them, however small, take its part in filling +the united flow of the bounding curve, so that the type of +each separate bough is again not <i>a</i>, but <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_18">Fig. 18</a>; approximating, +that is to say, so far to the structure of a plant of +broccoli as to throw the great mass of spray and leafage out to +a rounded surface. Therefore beware of getting into a careless +habit of drawing boughs with successive sweeps of the +pen or brush, one hanging to the other, as in <a href="#fig_19">Fig. 19</a>. If +you look at the tree-boughs in any painting of Wilson's you +will see this structure, and nearly every other that is to be +avoided, in their intensest types. You will also notice that +Wilson never conceives a tree as a round mass, but flat, as if +it had been pressed and dried. Most people in drawing +pines seem to fancy, in the same way, that the boughs come +out only on two sides of the trunk, instead of all round it: +always, therefore, take more pains in trying to draw the +boughs of trees that grow <i>towards</i> you than those that go +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page069"></a>69</span> +off to the sides; anybody can draw the latter, but the foreshortened +ones are not so easy. It will help you in drawing +them to observe that in most trees the ramification of each +branch, though not of the tree itself, is more or less flattened, +and approximates, in its position, to the look of a hand held +out to receive something, or shelter something. If you +take a looking-glass, and hold your hand before it slightly +hollowed, with the palm upwards, and the fingers open, as if +you were going to support the base of some great bowl, larger +than you could easily hold; and sketch your hand as you see +it in the glass with the points of the fingers towards you; +it will materially help you in understanding the way trees +generally hold out their hands: and if then you will turn +yours with its palm downwards, as if you were going to try +to hide something, but with the fingers expanded, you will +get a good type of the action of the lower boughs in cedars and +such other spreading trees.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_18"><img src="images/img068a.jpg" width="400" height="161" alt="Fig. 18." title="Fig. 18." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 18.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_19"><img src="images/img068b.jpg" width="400" height="186" alt="Fig. 19." title="Fig. 19." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 19.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>106. <a href="#fig_20">Fig. 20</a> will give you a good idea of the simplest way +in which these and other such facts can be rapidly expressed; +if you copy it carefully, you will be surprised to find how the +touches all group together, in expressing the plumy toss of +the tree branches, and the springing of the bushes out of the +bank, and the undulation of the ground: note the careful +drawing of the footsteps made by the climbers of the little +mound on the left.<a name="FnAnchor_23" href="#Footnote_23"><span class="sp">[23]</span></a> It is facsimilëd from an etching of +Turner's, and is as good an example as you can have of the +use of pure and firm lines; it will also show you how the +particular action in foliage, or anything else to which you +wish to direct attention, may be intensified by the adjuncts. +The tall and upright trees are made to look more tall and +upright still, because their line is continued below by the +figure of the farmer with his stick; and the rounded bushes +on the bank are made to look more rounded because their +line is continued in one broad sweep by the black dog and +the boy climbing the wall. These figures are placed entirely +with this object, as we shall see more fully hereafter when we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page070"></a>70</span> +come to talk about composition; but, if you please, we will not +talk about that yet awhile. What I have been telling you +about the beautiful lines and action of foliage has nothing +to do with composition, but only with fact, and the brief and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page071"></a>71</span> +expressive representation of fact. But there will be no harm +in your looking forward, if you like to do so, to the account, +in Letter III. of the "Law of Radiation," and reading what +is said there about tree growth: indeed it would in some respects +have been better to have said it here than there, only +it would have broken up the account of the principles of +composition somewhat awkwardly.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_20"><img src="images/img070.jpg" width="528" height="700" alt="Fig. 20." title="Fig. 20." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 20.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>107. Now, although the lines indicative of action are not +always quite so manifest in other things as in trees, a little +attention will soon enable you to see that there are such lines +in everything. In an old house roof, a bad observer and bad +draughtsman will only see and draw the spotty irregularity +of tiles or slates all over; but a good draughtsman will see all +the bends of the under timbers, where they are weakest and +the weight is telling on them most, and the tracks of the run +of the water in time of rain, where it runs off fastest, and +where it lies long and feeds the moss; and he will be careful, +however few slates he draws, to mark the way they bend +together towards those hollows (which have the future fate +of the roof in them), and crowd gradually together at the +top of the gable, partly diminishing in perspective, partly, +perhaps, diminished on purpose (they are so in most English +old houses) by the slate-layer. So in ground, there is always +the direction of the run of the water to be noticed, which +rounds the earth and cuts it into hollows; and, generally, in +any bank or height worth drawing, a trace of bedded or +other internal structure besides. <a href="#fig_20">Figure 20</a> will give you +some idea of the way in which such facts may be expressed +by a few lines. Do you not feel the depression in the ground +all down the hill where the footsteps are, and how the people +always turn to the left at the top, losing breath a little, +and then how the water runs down in that other hollow +towards the valley, behind the roots of the trees?</p> + +<p>108. Now, I want you in your first sketches from Nature +to aim exclusively at understanding and representing these +vital facts of form; using the pen—not now the steel, but +the quill—firmly and steadily, never scrawling with it, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page072"></a>72</span> +saying to yourself before you lay on a single touch,—"<i>that</i> +leaf is the main one, <i>that</i> bough is the guiding one, and this +touch, <i>so</i> long, <i>so</i> broad, means that part of it,"—point or +side or knot, as the case may be. Resolve always, as you +look at the thing, what you will take, and what miss of it, +and never let your hand run away with you, or get into any +habit or method of touch. If you want a continuous line, +your hand should pass calmly from one end of it to the other +without a tremor; if you want a shaking and broken line, +your hand should shake, or break off, as easily as a musician's +finger shakes or stops on a note: only remember this, that +there is no general way of doing <i>any</i> thing; no recipe can be +given you for so much as the drawing of a cluster of grass. +The grass may be ragged and stiff, or tender and flowing; +sunburnt and sheep-bitten, or rank and languid; fresh or +dry; lustrous or dull: look at it, and try to draw it as it is, +and don't think how somebody "told you to <i>do</i> grass." So +a stone may be round or angular, polished or rough, cracked +all over like an ill-glazed teacup, or as united and broad as +the breast of Hercules. It may be as flaky as a wafer, as +powdery as a field puff-ball; it may be knotted like a ship's +hawser, or kneaded like hammered iron, or knit like a Damascus +saber, or fused like a glass bottle, or crystallized like +hoar-frost, or veined like a forest leaf: look at it, and don't +try to remember how anybody told you to "do a stone."</p> + +<p>109. As soon as you find that your hand obeys you +thoroughly, and that you can render any form with a firmness +and truth approaching that of Turner's or Dürer's work,<a name="FnAnchor_24" href="#Footnote_24"><span class="sp">[24]</span></a> +you must add a simple but equally careful light and shade to +your pen drawing, so as to make each study as complete as +possible; for which you must prepare yourself thus. Get, +if you have the means, a good impression of one plate of +Turner's Liber Studiorum; if possible, one of the subjects +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page073"></a>73</span> +named in the note below.<a name="FnAnchor_25" href="#Footnote_25"><span class="sp">[25]</span></a> If you cannot obtain, or even +borrow for a little while, any of these engravings, you must +use a photograph instead (how, I will tell you presently); +but, if you can get the Turner, it will be best. You will +see that it is composed of a firm etching in line, with mezzotint +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page074"></a>74</span> +shadow laid over it. You must first copy the etched +part of it accurately; to which end put the print against the +window, and trace slowly with the greatest care every black +line; retrace this on smooth drawing-paper; and, finally, go +over the whole with your pen, looking at the original plate +always, so that if you err at all, it may be on the right side, +not making a line which is too curved or too straight already +in the tracing, more curved or more straight, as you go over +it. And in doing this, never work after you are tired, nor +to "get the thing done," for if it is badly done, it will be of +no use to you. The true zeal and patience of a quarter of an +hour are better than the sulky and inattentive labor of a +whole day. If you have not made the touches right at the +first going over with the pen, retouch them delicately, with +little ink in your pen, thickening or reinforcing them as they +need: you cannot give too much care to the facsimile. Then +keep this etched outline by you in order to study at your +ease the way in which Turner uses his line as preparatory for +the subsequent shadow;<a name="FnAnchor_26" href="#Footnote_26"><span class="sp">[26]</span></a> it is only in getting the two separate +that you will be able to reason on this. Next, copy once +more, though for the fourth time, any part of this etching +which you like, and put on the light and shade with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page075"></a>75</span> +brush, and any brown color that matches that of the plate;<a name="FnAnchor_27" href="#Footnote_27"><span class="sp">[27]</span></a> +working it with the point of the brush as delicately as if you +were drawing with pencil, and dotting and cross-hatching +as lightly as you can touch the paper, till you get the gradations +of Turner's engraving.</p> + +<p>110. In this exercise, as in the former one, a quarter of +an inch worked to close resemblance of the copy is worth +more than the whole subject carelessly done. Not that in +drawing afterwards from Nature you are to be obliged to +finish every gradation in this way, but that, once having +fully accomplished the drawing <i>something</i> rightly, you will +thenceforward feel and aim at a higher perfection than you +could otherwise have conceived, and the brush will obey you, +and bring out quickly and clearly the loveliest results, with +a submissiveness which it would have wholly refused if you +had not put it to severest work. Nothing is more strange in +art than the way that chance and materials seem to favor you, +when once you have thoroughly conquered them. Make +yourself quite independent of chance, get your result in spite +of it, and from that day forward all things will somehow fall +as you would have them. Show the camel's hair, and the +color in it, that no bending nor blotting is of any use to +escape your will; that the touch and the shade <i>shall</i> finally +be right, if it costs you a year's toil; and from that hour of +corrective conviction, said camel's hair will bend itself to +all your wishes, and no blot will dare to transgress its +appointed border. If you cannot obtain a print from the +Liber Studiorum, get a photograph<a name="FnAnchor_28" href="#Footnote_28"><span class="sp">[28]</span></a> of some general landscape +subject, with high hills and a village or picturesque +town, in the middle distance, and some calm water of varied +character (a stream with stones in it, if possible), and copy +any part of it you like, in this same brown color, working, +as I have just directed you to do from the Liber, a great deal +with the point of the brush. You are under a twofold disadvantage +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page076"></a>76</span> +here, however; first, there are portions in every +photograph too delicately done for you at present to be at +all able to copy; and, secondly, there are portions always +more obscure or dark than there would be in the real scene, +and involved in a mystery which you will not be able, as +yet, to decipher. Both these characters will be advantageous +to you for future study, after you have gained experience, +but they are a little against you in early attempts at tinting; +still you must fight through the difficulty, and get the power +of producing delicate gradations with brown or gray, like +those of the photograph.</p> + +<p>111. Now observe; the perfection of work would be tinted +shadow, like photography, without any obscurity or exaggerated +darkness; and as long as your effect depends in anywise +on visible lines, your art is not perfect, though it may +be first-rate of its kind. But to get complete results in tints +merely, requires both long time and consummate skill; and +you will find that a few well-put pen lines, with a tint dashed +over or under them, get more expression of facts than you +could reach in any other way, by the same expenditure of +time. The use of the Liber Studiorum print to you is +chiefly as an example of the simplest shorthand of this kind, +a shorthand which is yet capable of dealing with the most +subtle natural effects; for the firm etching gets at the expression +of complicated details, as leaves, masonry, textures of +ground, etc., while the overlaid tint enables you to express +the most tender distances of sky, and forms of playing light, +mist, or cloud. Most of the best drawings by the old masters +are executed on this principle, the touches of the pen being +useful also to give a look of transparency to shadows, which +could not otherwise be attained but by great finish of tinting; +and if you have access to any ordinarily good public gallery, +or can make friends of any printsellers who have folios either +of old drawings, or facsimiles of them, you will not be at +a loss to find some example of this unity of pen with tinting. +Multitudes of photographs also are now taken from the best +drawings by the old masters, and I hope that our Mechanics' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page077"></a>77</span> +Institutes and other societies organized with a view to public +instruction, will not fail to possess themselves of examples of +these, and to make them accessible to students of drawing in +the vicinity; a single print from Turner's Liber, to show +the unison of tint with pen etching, and the "St. Catherine," +photographed by Thurston Thompson from Raphael's drawing +in the Louvre, to show the unity of the soft tinting of +the stump with chalk, would be all that is necessary, and +would, I believe, be in many cases more serviceable than a +larger collection, and certainly than a whole gallery of second-rate +prints. Two such examples are peculiarly desirable, +because all other modes of drawing, with pen separately, +or chalk separately, or color separately, may be seen by the +poorest student in any cheap illustrated book, or in shop +windows. But this unity of tinting with line he cannot +generally see but by some special inquiry, and in some out +of the way places he could not find a single example of it. +Supposing that this should be so in your own case, and that +you cannot meet with any example of this kind, try to make +the matter out alone, thus:</p> + +<p>112. Take a small and simple photograph; allow yourself +half an hour to express its subjects with the pen only, using +some permanent liquid color instead of ink, outlining its +buildings or trees firmly, and laying in the deeper shadows, +as you have been accustomed to do in your bolder pen drawings; +then, when this etching is dry, take your sepia or gray, +and tint it over, getting now the finer gradations of the photograph; +and, finally taking out the higher lights with penknife +or blotting paper. You will soon find what can be done in +this way; and by a series of experiments you may ascertain +for yourself how far the pen may be made serviceable to +reinforce shadows, mark characters of texture, outline unintelligible +masses, and so on. The more time you have, the +more delicate you may make the pen drawing, blending it +with the tint; the less you have, the more distinct you must +keep the two. Practice in this way from one photograph, +allowing yourself sometimes only a quarter of an hour for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page078"></a>78</span> +the whole thing, sometimes an hour, sometimes two or three +hours; in each case drawing the whole subject in full depth +of light and shade, but with such degree of finish in the parts +as is possible in the given time. And this exercise, observe, +you will do well to repeat frequently, whether you can get +prints and drawings as well as photographs, or not.</p> + +<p>113. And now at last, when you can copy a piece of Liber +Studiorum, or its photographic substitute, faithfully, you +have the complete means in your power of working from +Nature on all subjects that interest you, which you should do +in four different ways.</p> + +<p>First. When you have full time, and your subject is one +that will stay quiet for you, make perfect light and shade +studies, or as nearly perfect as you can, with gray or brown +color of any kind, reinforced and defined with the pen.</p> + +<p>114. Secondly. When your time is short, or the subject +is so rich in detail that you feel you cannot complete it +intelligibly in light and shade, make a hasty study of the +effect, and give the rest of the time to a Düreresque expression +of the details. If the subject seems to you interesting, and +there are points about it which you cannot understand, try +to get five spare minutes to go close up to it, and make a nearer +memorandum; not that you are ever to bring the details of +this nearer sketch into the farther one, but that you may thus +perfect your experience of the aspect of things, and know +that such and such a look of a tower or cottage at five hundred +yards off means <i>that</i> sort of tower or cottage near; while, also, +this nearer sketch will be useful to prevent any future misinterpretation +of your own work. If you have time, however +far your light and shade study in the distance may have been +carried, it is always well, for these reasons, to make also +your Düreresque and your near memoranda; for if your +light and shade drawing be good, much of the interesting +detail must be lost in it, or disguised.</p> + +<p>115. Your hasty study of effect may be made most easily +and quickly with a soft pencil, dashed over when done with +one tolerably deep tone of gray, which will fix the pencil. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page079"></a>79</span> +While this fixing color is wet, take out the higher lights with +the dry brush; and, when it is quite dry, scratch out the +highest lights with the penknife. Five minutes, carefully +applied, will do much by these means. Of course the paper +is to be white. I do not like studies on gray paper so well; +for you can get more gradation by the taking off your wet +tint, and laying it on cunningly a little darker here and there, +than you can with body-color white, unless you are consummately +skillful. There is no objection to your making +your Düreresque memoranda on gray or yellow paper, and +touching or relieving them with white; only, do not depend +much on your white touches, nor make the sketch for their +sake.</p> + +<p>116. Thirdly. When you have neither time for careful +study nor for Düreresque detail, sketch the outline with +pencil, then dash in the shadows with the brush boldly, trying +to do as much as you possibly can at once, and to get a habit +of expedition and decision; laying more color again and +again into the tints as they dry, using every expedient +which your practice has suggested to you of carrying out +your chiaroscuro in the manageable and moist material, +taking the color off here with the dry brush, scratching out +lights in it there with the wooden handle of the brush, rubbing +it in with your fingers, drying it off with your sponge, +etc. Then, when the color is in, take your pen and mark the +outline characters vigorously, in the manner of the Liber +Studiorum. This kind of study is very convenient for carrying +away pieces of effect which depend not so much on +refinement as on complexity, strange shapes of involved +shadows, sudden effects of sky, etc.; and it is most useful +as a safeguard against any too servile or slow habits which +the minute copying may induce in you; for although the +endeavor to obtain velocity merely for velocity's sake, and +dash for display's sake, is as baneful as it is despicable; +there are a velocity and a dash which not only are compatible +with perfect drawing, but obtain certain results which cannot +be had otherwise. And it is perfectly safe for you to study +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page080"></a>80</span> +occasionally for speed and decision, while your continual +course of practice is such as to insure your retaining an +accurate judgment and a tender touch. Speed, under such +circumstances, is rather fatiguing than tempting; and you +will find yourself always beguiled rather into elaboration +than negligence.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_21"><img src="images/img080.jpg" width="500" height="302" alt="Fig. 21." title="Fig. 21." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 21.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>117. Fourthly. You will find it of great use, whatever +kind of landscape scenery you are passing through, to get +into the habit of making memoranda of the shapes of shadows. +You will find that many objects of no essential interest in +themselves, and neither deserving a finished study, nor a +Düreresque one, may yet become of singular value in consequence +of the fantastic shapes of their shadows; for it +happens often, in distant effect, that the shadow is by much +a more important element than the substance. Thus, in the +Alpine bridge, <a href="#fig_21">Fig. 21</a>, seen within a few yards of it, as +in the figure, the arrangement of timbers to which the +shadows are owing is perceptible; but at half a mile's distance, +in bright sunlight, the timbers would not be seen; and a good +painter's expression of the bridge would be merely the large +spot, and the crossed bars, of pure gray; wholly without +indication of their cause, as in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. 22</a> <i>a</i>; and if we saw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page081"></a>81</span> +it at still greater distances, it would appear, as in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. 22</a> <i>b</i> +and <i>c</i>, diminishing at last to a strange, unintelligible, spider-like +spot of gray on the light hill-side. A perfectly great +painter, throughout his distances, continually reduces his +objects to these shadow abstracts; and the singular, and to +many persons unaccountable, effect of the confused touches +in Turner's distances, is owing chiefly to this thorough +accuracy and intense meaning of the shadow abstracts.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_22"><img src="images/img081.jpg" width="261" height="500" alt="Fig. 22." title="Fig. 22." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 22.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>118. Studies of this kind are easily made, when you are +in haste, with an F. or HB. pencil: it requires some hardness +of the point to insure your drawing delicately enough +when the forms of the shadows are very subtle; they are sure +to be so somewhere, and are generally so everywhere. The +pencil is indeed a very precious instrument after you are +master of the pen and brush, for the pencil, cunningly used, +is both, and will draw a line with the precision of the one +and the gradation of the other; nevertheless, it is so unsatisfactory +to see the sharp touches, on which the best of the detail +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page082"></a>82</span> +depends, getting gradually deadened by time, or to find the +places where force was wanted look shiny, and like a fire-grate, +that I should recommend rather the steady use of the +pen, or brush, and color, whenever time admits of it; keeping +only a small memorandum-book in the breast-pocket, with its +well-cut, sheathed pencil, ready for notes on passing opportunities: +but never being without this.</p> + +<p>119. Thus much, then, respecting the manner in which +you are at first to draw from Nature. But it may perhaps be +serviceable to you, if I also note one or two points respecting +your choice of subjects for study, and the best special methods +of treating some of them; for one of by no means the least +difficulties which you have at first to encounter is a peculiar +instinct, common, as far as I have noticed, to all beginners, +to fix on exactly the most unmanageable feature in the given +scene. There are many things in every landscape which +can be drawn, if at all, only by the most accomplished artists; +and I have noticed that it is nearly always these which a +beginner will dash at; or, if not these, it will be something +which, though pleasing to him in itself, is unfit for a picture, +and in which, when he has drawn it, he will have little +pleasure. As some slight protection against this evil genius +of beginners, the following general warnings may be useful:</p> + +<p>120. (1.) Do not draw things that you love, on account +of their associations; or at least do not draw them because +you love them; but merely when you cannot get anything else +to draw. If you try to draw places that you love, you are +sure to be always entangled amongst neat brick walls, iron +railings, gravel walks, greenhouses, and quickset hedges; +besides that you will be continually led into some endeavor +to make your drawing pretty, or complete, which will be +fatal to your progress. You need never hope to get on, if you +are the least anxious that the drawing you are actually at +work upon should look nice when it is done. All you have to +care about is to make it <i>right</i>, and to learn as much in doing +it as possible. So then, though when you are sitting in your +friend's parlor, or in your own, and have nothing else to do, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page083"></a>83</span> +you may draw anything that is there, for practice; even the +fire-irons or the pattern on the carpet: be sure that it <i>is</i> for +practice, and not because it is a beloved carpet, or a friendly +poker and tongs, nor because you wish to please your friend +by drawing her room.</p> + +<p>121. Also, never make presents of your drawings. Of +course I am addressing you as a beginner—a time may +come when your work will be precious to everybody; but be +resolute not to give it away till you know that it is worth +something (as soon as it is worth anything you will know +that it is so). If any one asks you for a present of a drawing, +send them a couple of cakes of color and a piece of Bristol +board: those materials are, for the present, of more value +in that form than if you had spread the one over the other.</p> + +<p>The main reason for this rule is, however, that its observance +will much protect you from the great danger of trying +to make your drawings pretty.</p> + +<p>122. (2.) Never, by choice, draw anything polished; +especially if complicated in form. Avoid all brass rods and +curtain ornaments, chandeliers, plate, glass, and fine steel. A +shining knob of a piece of furniture does not matter if it +comes in your way; but do not fret yourself if it will not look +right, and choose only things that do not shine.</p> + +<p>(3.) Avoid all very neat things. They are exceedingly +difficult to draw, and very ugly when drawn. Choose rough, +worn, and clumsy-looking things as much as possible; for +instance, you cannot have a more difficult or profitless study +than a newly painted Thames wherry, nor a better study than +an old empty coal-barge, lying ashore at low tide: in general, +everything that you think very ugly will be good for you to +draw.</p> + +<p>(4.) Avoid, as much as possible, studies in which one +thing is seen through another. You will constantly find a +thin tree standing before your chosen cottage, or between you +and the turn of the river; its near branches all entangled +with the distance. It is intensely difficult to represent this; +and though, when the tree <i>is</i> there, you must not imaginarily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page084"></a>84</span> +cut it down, but do it as well as you can, yet always look for +subjects that fall into definite masses, not into network; that +is, rather for a cottage with a dark tree beside it, than for +one with a thin tree in front of it, rather for a mass of wood, +soft, blue, and rounded, than for a ragged copse, or confusion +of intricate stems.</p> + +<p>(5.) Avoid, as far as possible, country divided by hedges. +Perhaps nothing in the whole compass of landscape is so +utterly unpicturesque and unmanageable as the ordinary +English patchwork of field and hedge, with trees dotted over +it in independent spots, gnawed straight at the cattle line.</p> + +<p>Still, do not be discouraged if you find you have chosen ill, +and that the subject overmasters you. It is much better that +it should, than that you should think you had entirely +mastered <i>it</i>. But at first, and even for some time, you must +be prepared for very discomfortable failure; which, nevertheless, +will not be without some wholesome result.</p> + +<p>123. As, however, I have told you what most definitely +to avoid, I may, perhaps, help you a little by saying what to +seek. In general, all banks are beautiful things, and will +reward work better than large landscapes. If you live in +a lowland country, you must look for places where the ground +is broken to the river's edges, with decayed posts, or roots +of trees; or, if by great good luck there should be such things +within your reach, for remnants of stone quays or steps, mossy +mill-dams, etc. Nearly every other mile of road in chalk +country will present beautiful bits of broken bank at its sides; +better in form and color than high chalk cliffs. In woods, +one or two trunks, with the flowery ground below, are at +once the richest and easiest kind of study: a not very thick +trunk, say nine inches or a foot in diameter, with ivy running +up it sparingly, is an easy, and always a rewarding +subject.</p> + +<p>124. Large nests of buildings in the middle distance are +always beautiful, when drawn carefully, provided they are +not modern rows of pattern cottages, or villas with Ionic and +Doric porticoes. Any old English village, or cluster of farmhouses, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page085"></a>85</span> +drawn with all its ins and outs, and haystacks, and +palings, is sure to be lovely; much more a French one. +French landscape is generally as much superior to English +as Swiss landscape is to French; in some respects, the French +is incomparable. Such scenes as that avenue on the Seine, +which I have recommended you to buy the engraving of, +admit no rivalship in their expression of graceful rusticity +and cheerful peace, and in the beauty of component lines.</p> + +<p>In drawing villages, take great pains with the gardens; +a rustic garden is in every way beautiful. If you have time, +draw all the rows of cabbages, and hollyhocks, and broken +fences, and wandering eglantines, and bossy roses; you cannot +have better practice, nor be kept by anything in purer +thoughts.</p> + +<p>Make intimate friends with all the brooks in your neighborhood, +and study them ripple by ripple.</p> + +<p>Village churches in England are not often good subjects; +there is a peculiar meanness about most of them and awkwardness +of line. Old manor-houses are often pretty. Ruins are +usually, with us, too prim, and cathedrals too orderly. I +do not think there is a single cathedral in England from +which it is possible to obtain <i>one</i> subject for an impressive +drawing. There is always some discordant civility, or +jarring vergerism about them.</p> + +<p>125. If you live in a mountain or hill country, your only +danger is redundance of subject. Be resolved, in the first +place, to draw a piece of rounded rock, with its variegated +lichens, quite rightly, getting its complete roundings, and +all the patterns of the lichen in true local color. Till you can +do this, it is of no use your thinking of sketching among +hills; but when once you have done this, the forms of distant +hills will be comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>126. When you have practiced for a little time from such +of these subjects as may be accessible to you, you will certainly +find difficulties arising which will make you wish +more than ever for a master's help: these difficulties will +vary according to the character of your own mind (one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page086"></a>86</span> +question occurring to one person, and one to another), so that +it is impossible to anticipate them all; and it would make +this too large a book if I answered all that I <i>can</i> anticipate; +you must be content to work on, in good hope that Nature +will, in her own time, interpret to you much for herself; +that farther experience on your own part will make some +difficulties disappear; and that others will be removed by +the occasional observation of such artists' work as may come +in your way. Nevertheless, I will not close this letter without +a few general remarks, such as may be useful to you after +you are somewhat advanced in power; and these remarks +may, I think, be conveniently arranged under three heads, +having reference to the drawing of vegetation, water, and +skies.</p> + +<p>127. And, first, of vegetation. You may think, perhaps, +we have said enough about trees already; yet if you have +done as you were bid, and tried to draw them frequently +enough, and carefully enough, you will be ready by this time +to hear a little more of them. You will also recollect that +we left our question, respecting the mode of expressing +intricacy of leafage, partly unsettled in the first letter. I +left it so because I wanted you to learn the real structure of +leaves, by drawing them for yourself, before I troubled you +with the most subtle considerations as to method in drawing +them. And by this time, I imagine, you must have found +out two principal things, universal facts, about leaves; +namely, that they always, in the main tendencies of their +lines, indicate a beautiful divergence of growth, according +to the law of radiation, already referred to;<a name="FnAnchor_29" href="#Footnote_29"><span class="sp">[29]</span></a> and the second, +that this divergence is never formal, but carried out with +endless variety of individual line. I must now press both +these facts on your attention a little farther.</p> + +<p>128. You may, perhaps, have been surprised that I have +not yet spoken of the works of J. D. Harding, especially if +you happen to have met with the passages referring to them +in Modern Painters, in which they are highly praised. They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page087"></a>87</span> +are deservedly praised, for they are the only works by a +modern<a name="FnAnchor_30" href="#Footnote_30"><span class="sp">[30]</span></a> draughtsman which express in any wise the energy +of trees, and the laws of growth, of which we have been speaking. +There are no lithographic sketches which, for truth of +general character, obtained with little cost of time, at all +rival Harding's. Calame, Robert, and the other lithographic +landscape sketchers are altogether inferior in power, though +sometimes a little deeper in meaning. But you must not +take even Harding for a model, though you may use his +works for occasional reference; and if you can afford to +buy his Lessons on Trees,<a name="FnAnchor_31" href="#Footnote_31"><span class="sp">[31]</span></a> it will be serviceable to you in +various ways, and will at present help me to explain the point +under consideration. And it is well that I should illustrate +this point by reference to Harding's works, because their +great influence on young students renders it desirable that +their real character should be thoroughly understood.</p> + +<p>129. You will find, first, in the titlepage of the Lessons on +Trees, a pretty wood-cut, in which the tree stems are drawn +with great truth, and in a very interesting arrangement of +lines. Plate 1 is not quite worthy of Mr. Harding, tending +too much to make his pupil, at starting, think everything +depends on black dots; still, the main lines are good, and +very characteristic of tree growth. Then, in Plate 2, we +come to the point at issue. The first examples in that plate +are given to the pupil that he may practice from them till +his hand gets into the habit of arranging lines freely in a +similar manner; and they are stated by Mr. Harding to be +universal in application; "all outlines expressive of foliage," +he says, "are but modifications of them." They consist of +groups of lines, more or less resembling our <a href="#fig_23">Fig. 23</a> below; +and the characters especially insisted upon are, that they +"tend at their inner ends to a common center;" that "their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page088"></a>88</span> +ends terminate in [are inclosed by] ovoid curves;" and +that "the outer ends are most emphatic."</p> + + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figleft1"> + <a name="fig_23"><img src="images/img088.jpg" width="150" height="79" alt="Fig. 23." title="Fig. 23." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 23.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>130. Now, as thus expressive of +the great laws of radiation and inclosure, +the main principle of this +method of execution confirms, in a +very interesting way, our conclusions +respecting foliage composition. The +reason of the last rule, that the outer end of the line is to +be most emphatic, does not indeed at first appear; for the +line at one end of a natural leaf is not more emphatic than +the line at the other: but ultimately, in Harding's method, +this darker part of the touch stands more or less for the shade +at the outer extremity of the leaf mass; and, as Harding +uses these touches, they express as much of tree character +as any mere habit of touch <i>can</i> express. But, unfortunately, +there is another law of tree growth, quite as fixed as the law +of radiation, which this and all other conventional modes +of execution wholly lose sight of. This second law is, that +the radiating tendency shall be carried out only as a ruling +spirit in reconcilement with perpetual individual caprice +on the part of the separate leaves. So that the moment a +touch is monotonous, it must be also false, the liberty of +the leaf individually being just as essential a truth, as its +unity of growth with its companions in the radiating group.</p> + +<p>131. It does not matter how small or apparently symmetrical +the cluster may be, nor how large or vague. You +can hardly have a more formal one than <i>b</i> in <a href="#fig_9">Fig. 9</a>, <a href="#page047">p. 47</a>, +nor a less formal one than this shoot of Spanish chestnut, +shedding its leaves, <a href="#fig_24">Fig. 24</a>; but in either of them, even the +general reader, unpracticed in any of the previously recommended +exercises, must see that there are wandering lines +mixed with the radiating ones, and radiating lines with the +wild ones: and if he takes the pen, and tries to copy either of +these examples, he will find that neither play of hand to +left nor to right, neither a free touch nor a firm touch, nor +any learnable or describable touch whatsoever, will enable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page089"></a>89</span> +him to produce, currently, a resemblance of it; but that he +must either draw it slowly or give it up. And (which makes +the matter worse still) though gathering the bough, and +putting it close to you, or seeing a piece of near foliage +against the sky, you may draw the entire outline of the +leaves, yet if the spray has light upon it, and is ever so little +a way off, you will miss, as we have seen, a point of a leaf +here, and an edge there; some of the surfaces will be confused +by glitter, and some spotted with shade; and if you look carefully +through this confusion for the edges or dark stems +which you really <i>can</i> see and put only those down, the result +will be neither like <a href="#fig_9">Fig. 9</a> nor <a href="#fig_24">Fig. 24</a>, but such an interrupted +and puzzling piece of work as <a href="#fig_25">Fig. 25</a>.<a name="FnAnchor_32" href="#Footnote_32"><span class="sp">[32]</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page090"></a>90</span></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_24"><img src="images/img089a.jpg" width="400" height="331" alt="Fig. 24." title="Fig. 24." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 24.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_25"><img src="images/img089b.jpg" width="400" height="180" alt="Fig. 25." title="Fig. 25." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 25.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>132. Now, it is in the perfect acknowledgment and +expression of these <i>three</i> laws that all good drawing of landscape +consists. There is, first, the organic unity; the law, +whether of radiation, or parallelism, or concurrent action, +which rules the masses of herbs and trees, of rocks, and clouds, +and waves; secondly, the individual liberty of the members +subjected to these laws of unity; and, lastly, the mystery +under which the separate character of each is more or less +concealed.</p> + +<p>I say, first, there must be observance of the ruling organic +law. This is the first distinction between good artists and +bad artists. Your common sketcher or bad painter puts +his leaves on the trees as if they were moss tied to sticks; he +cannot see the lines of action or growth; he scatters the shapeless +clouds over his sky, not perceiving the sweeps of associated +curves which the real clouds are following as they +fly; and he breaks his mountain side into rugged fragments, +wholly unconscious of the lines of force with which the real +rocks have risen, or of the lines of couch in which they +repose. On the contrary, it is the main delight of the great +draughtsman to trace these laws of government; and his +tendency to error is always in the exaggeration of their +authority rather than in its denial.</p> + +<p>133. Secondly, I say, we have to show the individual +character and liberty of the separate leaves, clouds, or rocks. +And herein the great masters separate themselves finally +from the inferior ones; for if the men of inferior genius +ever express law at all, it is by the sacrifice of individuality. +Thus, Salvator Rosa has great perception of the sweep of +foliage and rolling of clouds, but never draws a single +leaflet or mist wreath accurately. Similarly, Gainsborough, +in his landscape, has great feeling for masses of form and +harmony of color; but in the detail gives nothing but meaningless +touches; not even so much as the species of tree, +much less the variety of its leafage, being ever discernible. +Now, although both these expressions of government and +individuality are essential to masterly work, the individuality +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page091"></a>91</span> +is the <i>more</i> essential, and the more difficult of attainment; +and, therefore, that attainment separates the great masters +<i>finally</i> from the inferior ones. It is the more essential, +because, in these matters of beautiful arrangement in visible +things, the same rules hold that hold in moral things. It is +a lamentable and unnatural thing to see a number of men +subject to no government, actuated by no ruling principle, +and associated by no common affection: but it would be a +more lamentable thing still, were it possible, to see a number +of men so oppressed into assimilation as to have no more any +individual hope or character, no differences in aim, no +dissimilarities of passion, no irregularities of judgment; a +society in which no man could help another, since none would +be feebler than himself; no man admire another, since +none would be stronger than himself; no man be grateful to +another, since by none he could be relieved; no man reverence +another, since by none he could be instructed; a society in +which every soul would be as the syllable of a stammerer +instead of the word of a speaker, in which every man would +walk as in a frightful dream, seeing specters of himself, in +everlasting multiplication, gliding helplessly around him in +a speechless darkness. Therefore it is that perpetual difference, +play, and change in groups of form are more +essential to them even than their being subdued by some +great gathering law: the law is needful to them for their +perfection and their power, but the difference is needful to +them for their life.</p> + +<p>134. And here it may be noted in passing, that, if you +enjoy the pursuit of analogies and types, and have any +ingenuity of judgment in discerning them, you may always +accurately ascertain what are the noble characters in a piece +of painting by merely considering what are the noble characters +of man in his association with his fellows. What grace +of manner and refinement of habit are in society, grace of +line and refinement of form are in the association of visible +objects. What advantage or harm there may be in sharpness, +ruggedness, or quaintness in the dealings or conversations of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page092"></a>92</span> +men; precisely that relative degree of advantage or harm +there is in them as elements of pictorial composition. What +power is in liberty or relaxation to strengthen or relieve +human souls; that power precisely in the same relative degree, +play and laxity of line have to strengthen or refresh the +expression of a picture. And what goodness or greatness we +can conceive to arise in companies of men, from chastity of +thought, regularity of life, simplicity of custom, and balance +of authority; precisely that kind of goodness and greatness +may be given to a picture by the purity of its color, the +severity of its forms, and the symmetry of its masses.</p> + +<p>135. You need not be in the least afraid of pushing these +analogies too far. They cannot be pushed too far; they are +so precise and complete, that the farther you pursue them, +the clearer, the more certain, the more useful you will find +them. They will not fail you in one particular, or in any +direction of inquiry. There is no moral vice, no moral +virtue, which has not its <i>precise</i> prototype in the art of +painting; so that you may at your will illustrate the moral +habit by the art, or the art by the moral habit. Affection +and discord, fretfulness, and quietness, feebleness and firmness, +luxury and purity, pride and modesty, and all other +such habits, and every conceivable modification and mingling +of them, may be illustrated, with mathematical exactness, +by conditions of line and color; and not merely these definable +vices and virtues, but also every conceivable shade of +human character and passion, from the righteous or unrighteous +majesty of the king to the innocent or faultful simplicity +of the shepherd boy.</p> + +<p>136. The pursuit of this subject belongs properly, however, +to the investigation of the higher branches of composition, +matters which it would be quite useless to treat of in this +book; and I only allude to them here, in order that you may +understand how the utmost noblenesses of art are concerned +in this minute work, to which I have set you in your beginning +of it. For it is only by the closest attention, and the +most noble execution, that it is possible to express these +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page093"></a>93</span> +varieties of individual character, on which all excellence of +portraiture depends, whether of masses of mankind, or of +groups of leaves.</p> + +<p>137. Now you will be able to understand, among other +matters, wherein consists the excellence, and wherein the +shortcoming, of the tree-drawing of Harding. It is excellent +in so far as it fondly observes, with more truth than any +other work of the kind, the great laws of growth and action +in trees: it fails,—and observe, not in a minor, but in the +principal point,—because it cannot rightly render any one +individual detail or incident of foliage. And in this it fails, +not from mere carelessness or incompletion, but of necessity; +the true drawing of detail being for evermore impossible to +a hand which has contracted a <i>habit</i> of execution. The noble +draughtsman draws a leaf, and stops, and says calmly,—That +leaf is of such and such a character; I will give him +a friend who will entirely suit him: then he considers what +his friend ought to be, and having determined, he draws his +friend. This process may be as quick as lightning when +the master is great—one of the sons of the giants; or it may +be slow and timid: but the process is always gone through; +no touch or form is ever added to another by a good painter +without a mental determination and affirmation. But when +the hand has got into a habit, leaf No. 1 necessitates leaf +No. 2; you cannot stop, your hand is as a horse with the bit +in its teeth; or rather is, for the time, a machine, throwing +out leaves to order and pattern, all alike. You must stop +that hand of yours, however painfully; make it understand +that it is not to have its own way any more, that it shall +never more slip from one touch to another without orders; +otherwise it is not you who are the master, but your fingers. +You may therefore study Harding's drawing, and take +pleasure in it;<a name="FnAnchor_33" href="#Footnote_33"><span class="sp">[33]</span></a> and you may properly admire the dexterity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page094"></a>94</span> +which applies the habit of the hand so well, and produces +results on the whole so satisfactory: but you must never copy +it; otherwise your progress will be at once arrested. The +utmost you can ever hope to do would be a sketch in Harding's +manner, but of far inferior dexterity; for he has given +his life's toil to gain his dexterity, and you, I suppose, have +other things to work at besides drawing. You would also +incapacitate yourself from ever understanding what truly +great work was, or what Nature was; but, by the earnest and +complete study of facts, you will gradually come to understand +the one and love the other more and more, whether you +can draw well yourself or not.</p> + +<p>138. I have yet to say a few words respecting the third +law above stated, that of mystery; the law, namely, that nothing +is ever seen perfectly, but only by fragments, and under +various conditions of obscurity.<a name="FnAnchor_34" href="#Footnote_34"><span class="sp">[34]</span></a> This last fact renders the +visible objects of Nature complete as a type of the human +nature. We have, observe, first, Subordination; secondly, +Individuality; lastly, and this not the least essential character, +Incomprehensibility; a perpetual lesson, in every serrated +point and shining vein which escapes or deceives our +sight among the forest leaves, how little we may hope to +discern clearly, or judge justly, the rents and veins of the +human heart; how much of all that is round us, in men's +actions or spirits, which we at first think we understand, +a closer and more loving watchfulness would show to be full +of mystery, never to be either fathomed or withdrawn.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_26"><img src="images/img095.jpg" width="436" height="500" alt="Fig. 26." title="Fig. 26." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 26.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>139. The expression of this final character in landscape +has never been completely reached by any except Turner; +nor can you hope to reach it at all until you have given much +time to the practice of art. Only try always when you are +sketching any object with a view to completion in light and +shade, to draw only those parts of it which you really see +definitely; preparing for the after development of the forms +by chiaroscuro. It is this preparation by isolated touches for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page095"></a>95</span> +a future arrangement of superimposed light and shade which +renders the etchings of the Liber Studiorum so inestimable as +examples, and so peculiar. The character exists more or less +in them exactly in proportion to the pains that Turner has +taken. Thus the Æsacus and Hesperie was wrought out with +the greatest possible care; and the principal branch on the +near tree is etched as in <a href="#fig_26">Fig. 26</a>. The work looks at first +like a scholar's instead of a master's; but when the light +and shade are added, every touch falls into its place, and a +perfect expression of grace and complexity results. Nay, +even before the light and shade are added, you ought to be +able to see that these irregular and broken lines, especially +where the expression is given of the way the stem loses itself +in the leaves, are more true than the monotonous though +graceful leaf-drawing which, before Turner's time, had been +employed, even by the best masters, in their distant masses. +<a href="#fig_27">Fig. 27</a> is sufficiently characteristic of the manner of the +old wood-cuts after Titian; in which, you see, the leaves are +too much of one shape, like bunches of fruit; and the boughs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page096"></a>96</span> +too completely seen, besides being somewhat soft and leathery +in aspect, owing to the want of angles in their outline. By +great men like Titian, this somewhat conventional structure +was only given in haste to distant masses; and their exquisite +delineation of the foreground, kept their conventionalism from +degeneracy: but in the drawings of the Carracci and other +derivative masters, the conventionalism prevails everywhere, +and sinks gradually into scrawled work, like <a href="#fig_28">Fig. 28</a>, about +the worst which it is possible to get into the habit of using, +though an ignorant person might perhaps suppose it more +"free," and therefore better than <a href="#fig_26">Fig. 26</a>. Note also, that +in noble outline drawing, it does not follow that a bough is +wrongly drawn, because it looks contracted unnaturally somewhere, +as in <a href="#fig_26">Fig. 26</a>, just above the foliage. Very often +the muscular action which is to be expressed by the line runs +into the middle of the branch, and the actual outline of the +branch at that place may be dimly seen, or not at all; and +it is then only by the future shade that its actual shape, or +the cause of its disappearance, will be indicated.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_27"><img src="images/img096.jpg" width="300" height="216" alt="Fig. 27." title="Fig. 27." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 27.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>140. One point more remains to be noted about trees, +and I have done. In the minds of our ordinary water-color +artists a distant tree seems only to be conceived as a flat +green blot, grouping pleasantly with other masses, and giving +cool color to the landscape, but differing no wise, in texture, +from the blots of other shapes which these painters use to +express stones, or water, or figures. But as soon as you have +drawn trees carefully a little while, you will be impressed, +and impressed more strongly the better you draw them, with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page097"></a>97</span> +the idea of their <i>softness</i> of surface. A distant tree is not a +flat and even piece of color, but a more or less globular mass +of a downy or bloomy texture, partly passing into a misty +vagueness. I find, practically, this lovely softness of far-away +trees the most difficult of all characters to reach, because +it cannot be got by mere scratching or roughening the surface, +but is always associated with such delicate expressions of +form and growth as are only imitable by very careful drawing. +The penknife passed lightly <i>over</i> this careful drawing +will do a good deal; but you must accustom yourself, from +the beginning, to aim much at this softness in the lines of +the drawing itself, by crossing them delicately, and more or +less effacing and confusing the edges. You must invent, +according to the character of tree, various modes of execution +adapted to express its texture; but always keep this character +of softness in your mind, and in your scope of aim; for in +most landscapes it is the intention of Nature that the tenderness +and transparent infinitude of her foliage should be felt, +even at the far distance, in the most distinct opposition to +the solid masses and flat surfaces of rocks or buildings.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page098"></a>98</span></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_28"><img src="images/img097.jpg" width="300" height="384" alt="Fig. 28." title="Fig. 28." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 28.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>141. II. We were, in the second place, to consider a little +the modes of representing water, of which important feature +of landscape I have hardly said anything yet.</p> + +<p>Water is expressed, in common drawings, by conventional +lines, whose horizontality is supposed to convey the idea of +its surface. In paintings, white dashes or bars of light are +used for the same purpose.</p> + +<p>But these and all other such expedients are vain and +absurd. A piece of calm water always contains a picture in +itself, an exquisite reflection of the objects above it. If +you give the time necessary to draw these reflections, disturbing +them here and there as you see the breeze or current +disturb them, you will get the effect of the water; but if you +have not patience to draw the reflections, no expedient will +give you a true effect. The picture in the pool needs nearly +as much delicate drawing as the picture above the pool; +except only that if there be the least motion on the water, +the horizontal lines of the images will be diffused and broken, +while the vertical ones will remain decisive, and the oblique +ones decisive in proportion to their steepness.</p> + +<p>142. A few close studies will soon teach you this: the only +thing you need to be told is to watch carefully the lines of +disturbance on the surface, as when a bird swims across it, +or a fish rises, or the current plays round a stone, reed, or +other obstacle. Take the greatest pains to get the <i>curves</i> of +these lines true; the whole value of your careful drawing +of the reflections may be lost by your admitting a single +false curve of ripple from a wild duck's breast. And (as +in other subjects) if you are dissatisfied with your result, +always try for more unity and delicacy: if your reflections +are only soft and gradated enough, they are nearly sure to +give you a pleasant effect.<a name="FnAnchor_35" href="#Footnote_35"><span class="sp">[35]</span></a> When you are taking pains, +work the softer reflections, where they are drawn out by +motion in the water, with touches as nearly horizontal as +may be; but when you are in a hurry, indicate the place and +play of the images with vertical lines. The actual construction +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page099"></a>99</span> +of a calm elongated reflection is with horizontal lines: +but it is often impossible to draw the descending shades +delicately enough with a horizontal touch; and it is best +always when you are in a hurry, and sometimes when you +are not, to use the vertical touch. When the ripples are +large, the reflections become shaken, and must be drawn with +bold undulatory descending lines.</p> + +<p>143. I need not, I should think, tell you that it is of the +greatest possible importance to draw the curves of the shore +rightly. Their perspective is, if not more subtle, at least +more stringent than that of any other lines in Nature. It +will not be detected by the general observer, if you miss the +curve of a branch, or the sweep of a cloud, or the perspective +of a building;<a name="FnAnchor_36" href="#Footnote_36"><span class="sp">[36]</span></a> but every intelligent spectator will feel the +difference between a rightly-drawn bend of shore or shingle, +and a false one. <i>Absolutely</i> right, in difficult river perspectives +seen from heights, I believe no one but Turner ever +has been yet; and observe, there is NO rule for them. To +develop the curve mathematically would require a knowledge +of the exact quantity of water in the river, the shape of its +bed, and the hardness of the rock or shore; and even with +these data, the problem would be one which no mathematician +could solve but approximatively. The instinct of the eye +can do it; nothing else.</p> + +<p>144. If, after a little study from Nature, you get puzzled +by the great differences between the aspect of the reflected +image and that of the object casting it; and if you wish to +know the law of reflection, it is simply this: Suppose all the +objects above the water <i>actually</i> reversed (not in appearance, +but in fact) beneath the water, and precisely the same in +form and in relative position, only all topsy-turvy. Then, +whatever you could see, from the place in which you stand, +of the solid objects so reversed under the water, you will see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100"></a>100</span> +in the reflection, always in the true perspective of the solid +objects so reversed.</p> + +<p>If you cannot quite understand this in looking at water, +take a mirror, lay it horizontally on the table, put some books +and papers upon it, and draw them and their reflections; +moving them about, and watching how their reflections alter, +and chiefly how their reflected colors and shades differ from +their own colors and shades, by being brought into other +oppositions. This difference in chiaroscuro is a more important +character in water-painting than mere difference in form.</p> + +<p>145. When you are drawing shallow or muddy water, +you will see shadows on the bottom, or on the surface, continually +modifying the reflections; and in a clear mountain +stream, the most wonderful complications of effect resulting +from the shadows and reflections of the stones in it, mingling +with the aspect of the stones themselves seen through the +water. Do not be frightened at the complexity; but, on +the other hand, do not hope to render it hastily. Look at it +well, making out everything that you see, and distinguishing +each component part of the effect. There will be, first, the +stones seen through the water, distorted always by refraction, +so that, if the general structure of the stone shows +straight parallel lines above the water, you may be sure they +will be bent where they enter it; then the reflection of the +part of the stone above the water crosses and interferes with +the part that is seen through it, so that you can hardly tell +which is which; and wherever the reflection is darkest, you +will see through the water best,<a name="FnAnchor_37" href="#Footnote_37"><span class="sp">[37]</span></a> and <i>vice versâ</i>. Then the +real shadow of the stone crosses both these images, and where +that shadow falls, it makes the water more reflective, and +where the sunshine falls, you will see more of the surface of +the water, and of any dust or motes that may be floating on it: +but whether you are to see, at the same spot, most of the +bottom of the water, or of the reflection of the objects above, +depends on the position of the eye. The more you look down +into the water, the better you see objects through it; the more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101"></a>101</span> +you look along it, the eye being low, the more you see the +reflection of objects above it. Hence the color of a given +space of surface in a stream will entirely change while you +stand still in the same spot, merely as you stoop or raise your +head; and thus the colors with which water is painted are +an indication of the position of the spectator, and connected +inseparably with the perspective of the shores. The most +beautiful of all results that I know in mountain streams is +when the water is shallow, and the stones at the bottom are +rich reddish-orange and black, and the water is seen at an +angle which exactly divides the visible colors between those +of the stones and that of the sky, and the sky is of clear, full +blue. The resulting purple, obtained by the blending of the +blue and the orange-red, broken by the play of innumerable +gradations in the stones, is indescribably lovely.</p> + +<p>146. All this seems complicated enough already; but if +there be a strong color in the clear water itself, as of green +or blue in the Swiss lakes, all these phenomena are doubly +involved; for the darker reflections now become of the color +of the water. The reflection of a black gondola, for instance, +at Venice, is never black, but pure dark green. And, farther, +the color of the water itself is of three kinds: one, seen on +the surface, is a kind of milky bloom; the next is seen where +the waves let light through them, at their edges; and the +third, shown as a change of color on the objects seen through +the water. Thus, the same wave that makes a white object +look of a clear blue, when seen through it, will take a red or +violet-colored bloom on its surface, and will be made pure +emerald green by transmitted sunshine through its edges. +With all this, however, you are not much concerned at present, +but I tell it you partly as a preparation for what we +have afterwards to say about color, and partly that you may +approach lakes and streams with reverence,<a name="FnAnchor_38" href="#Footnote_38"><span class="sp">[38]</span></a> and study them +as carefully as other things, not hoping to express them by a +few horizontal dashes of white, or a few tremulous blots.<a name="FnAnchor_39" href="#Footnote_39"><span class="sp">[39]</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102"></a>102</span> +Not but that much may be done by tremulous blots, when you +know precisely what you mean by them, as you will see by +many of the Turner sketches, which are now framed at the +National Gallery; but you must have painted water many +and many a day—yes, and all day long—before you can hope +to do anything like those.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>147. III. Lastly. You may perhaps wonder why, before +passing to the clouds, I say nothing special about <i>ground</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_40" href="#Footnote_40"><span class="sp">[40]</span></a> +But there is too much to be said about that to admit of my +saying it here. You will find the principal laws of its +structure examined at length in the fourth volume of Modern +Painters; and if you can get that volume, and copy carefully +Plate 21, which I have etched after Turner with great pains, +it will give you as much help as you need in the linear +expression of ground-surface. Strive to get the retirement +and succession of masses in irregular ground: much may be +done in this way by careful watching of the perspective diminutions +of its herbage, as well as by contour; and much +also by shadows. If you draw the shadows of leaves and tree +trunks on any undulating ground with entire carefulness, +you will be surprised to find how much they explain of the +form and distance of the earth on which they fall.</p> + +<p>148. Passing then to skies, note that there is this great +peculiarity about sky subject, as distinguished from earth +subject;—that the clouds, not being much liable to man's +interference, are always beautifully arranged. You cannot +be sure of this in any other features of landscape. The rock +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103"></a>103</span> +on which the effect of a mountain scene especially depends is +always precisely that which the roadmaker blasts or the landlord +quarries; and the spot of green which Nature left with +a special purpose by her dark forest sides, and finished with +her most delicate grasses, is always that which the farmer +plows or builds upon. But the clouds, though we can hide +them with smoke, and mix them with poison, cannot be +quarried nor built over, and they are always therefore gloriously +arranged; so gloriously, that unless you have notable +powers of memory you need not hope to approach the effect +of any sky that interests you. For both its grace and its +glow depend upon the united influence of every cloud within +its compass: they all move and burn together in a marvelous +harmony; not a cloud of them is out of its appointed place, +or fails of its part in the choir: and if you are not able to +recollect (which in the case of a complicated sky it is impossible +you should) precisely the form and position of all the +clouds at a given moment, you cannot draw the sky at all; +for the clouds will not fit if you draw one part of them three +or four minutes before another.</p> + +<p>149. You must try therefore to help what memory you +have, by sketching at the utmost possible speed the whole +range of the clouds; marking, by any shorthand or symbolic +work you can hit upon, the peculiar character of each, as +transparent, or fleecy, or linear, or undulatory; giving afterwards +such completion to the parts as your recollection will +enable you to do. This, however, only when the sky is interesting +from its general aspect; at other times, do not try to +draw all the sky, but a single cloud: sometimes a round +cumulus will stay five or six minutes quite steady enough to +let you mark out his principal masses; and one or two white +or crimson lines which cross the sunrise will often stay without +serious change for as long. And in order to be the readier +in drawing them, practice occasionally drawing lumps of +cotton, which will teach you better than any other stable +thing the kind of softness there is in clouds. For you will +find when you have made a few genuine studies of sky, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104"></a>104</span> +then look at any ancient or modern painting, that ordinary +artists have always fallen into one of two faults: either, in +rounding the clouds, they make them as solid and hard-edged +as a heap of stones tied up in a sack, or they represent them +not as rounded at all, but as vague wreaths of mist or flat +lights in the sky; and think they have done enough in leaving +a little white paper between dashes of blue, or in taking an +irregular space out with the sponge. Now clouds are not as +solid as flour-sacks; but, on the other hand, they are neither +spongy nor flat. They are definite and very beautiful forms +of sculptured mist; sculptured is a perfectly accurate word; +they are not more <i>drifted</i> into form than they are <i>carved</i> into +form, the warm air around them cutting them into shape by +absorbing the visible vapor beyond certain limits; hence +their angular and fantastic outlines, as different from a +swollen, spherical, or globular formation, on the one hand, +as from that of flat films or shapeless mists on the other. +And the worst of all is, that while these forms are difficult +enough to draw on any terms, especially considering that +they never stay quiet, they must be drawn also at greater +disadvantage of light and shade than any others, the force +of light in clouds being wholly unattainable by art; so that +if we put shade enough to express their form as positively +as it is expressed in reality, we must make them painfully +too dark on the dark sides. Nevertheless, they are so beautiful, +if you in the least succeed with them, that you will hardly, +I think, lose courage.</p> + +<p>150. Outline them often with the pen, as you can catch +them here and there; one of the chief uses of doing this will +be, not so much the memorandum so obtained, as the lesson +you will get respecting the softness of the cloud-outlines. +You will always find yourself at a loss to see where the +outline really is; and when drawn it will always look hard +and false, and will assuredly be either too round or too square, +however often you alter it, merely passing from the one +fault to the other and back again, the real cloud striking an +inexpressible mean between roundness and squareness in all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105"></a>105</span> +its coils or battlements. I speak at present, of course, only +of the cumulus cloud: the lighter wreaths and flakes of the +upper sky cannot be outlined;—they can only be sketched, +like locks of hair, by many lines of the pen. Firmly developed +bars of cloud on the horizon are in general easy +enough, and may be drawn with decision. When you have +thus accustomed yourself a little to the placing and action of +clouds, try to work out their light and shade, just as carefully +as you do that of other things, looking exclusively for examples +of treatment to the vignettes in Rogers's Italy and Poems, +and to the Liber Studiorum, unless you have access to some +examples of Turner's own work. No other artist ever yet +drew the sky: even Titian's clouds, and Tintoret's, are conventional. +The clouds in the "Ben Arthur," "Source of +Arveron," and "Calais Pier," are among the best of Turner's +storm studies; and of the upper clouds, the vignettes to +Rogers's Poems furnish as many examples as you need.</p> + +<p>151. And now, as our first lesson was taken from the sky, +so, for the present, let our last be. I do not advise you to be +in any haste to master the contents of my next letter. If +you have any real talent for drawing, you will take delight +in the discoveries of natural loveliness, which the studies I +have already proposed will lead you into, among the fields +and hills; and be assured that the more quietly and single-heartedly +you take each step in the art, the quicker, on the +whole, will your progress be. I would rather, indeed, have +discussed the subjects of the following letter at greater length, +and in a separate work addressed to more advanced students; +but as there are one or two things to be said on composition +which may set the young artist's mind somewhat more at +rest, or furnish him with defense from the urgency of ill-advisers, +I will glance over the main heads of the matter +here; trusting that my doing so may not beguile you, my +dear reader, from your serious work, or lead you to think me, +in occupying part of this book with talk not altogether +relevant to it, less entirely or</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 5em; ">Faithfully yours,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; "><span class="sc">J. Ruskin.</span></p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_23" href="#FnAnchor_23">[23]</a> It is meant, I believe, for "Salt Hill."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_24" href="#FnAnchor_24">[24]</a> I do not mean that you can approach Turner or Dürer in their strength, +that is to say, in their imagination or power of design. But you may +approach them, by perseverance, in truth of manner.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_25" href="#FnAnchor_25">[25]</a> The following are the most desirable plates:—</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" width="100%" summary="table"> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Grande Chartreuse.</td> + <td class="lsp">Calais Pier.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Æsacus and Hesperie.</td> + <td class="lsp">Pembury Mill.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Cephalus and Procris.</td> + <td class="lsp">Little Devil's Bridge.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Source of Arveron.</td> + <td class="lsp">River Wye (<i>not</i> Wye and Severn).</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Ben Arthur.</td> + <td class="lsp">Holy Island.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Watermill.</td> + <td class="lsp">Clyde.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Hindhead Hill.</td> + <td class="lsp">Lauffenburg.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Hedging and Ditching.</td> + <td class="lsp">Blair Athol.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Dumblane Abbey.</td> + <td class="lsp">Alps from Grenoble.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Morpeth.</td> + <td class="lsp">Raglan. (Subject with quiet brook, trees, and castle on the right.)</td> </tr> + +</table> + + +<p>If you cannot get one of these, any of the others will be serviceable, +except only the twelve following, which are quite useless:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="100%" summary="table"> + +<tr> <td class="rsp">1. </td> <td class="lsp">Scene in Italy, with goats on a walled road, and trees above.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">2. </td> <td class="lsp">Interior of church.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">3. </td> <td class="lsp">Scene with bridge, and trees above; figures on left, one playing a pipe.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">4. </td> <td class="lsp">Scene with figure playing on tambourine.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">5. </td> <td class="lsp">Scene on Thames with high trees, and a square tower of a church seen through them.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">6. </td> <td class="lsp">Fifth Plague of Egypt.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">7. </td> <td class="lsp">Tenth Plague of Egypt.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">8. </td> <td class="lsp">Rivaulx Abbey.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">9. </td> <td class="lsp">Wye and Severn.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">10. </td> <td class="lsp">Scene with castle in center, cows under trees on the left.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">11. </td> <td class="lsp">Martello Towers.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="rsp">12. </td> <td class="lsp">Calm.</td> </tr> + +</table> + +<p>It is very unlikely that you should meet with one of the original etchings; +if you should, it will be a drawing-master in itself alone, for it is +not only equivalent to a pen-and-ink drawing by Turner, but to a very +careful one; only observe, the Source of Arveron, Raglan, and Dumblane +were not etched by Turner; and the etchings of those three are not good +for separate study, though it is deeply interesting to see how Turner, +apparently provoked at the failure of the beginnings in the Arveron and +Raglan, took the plates up himself, and either conquered or brought into +use the bad etching by his marvelous engraving. The Dumblane was, +however, well etched by Mr. Lupton, and beautifully engraved by him. +The finest Turner etching is of an aqueduct with a stork standing in a +mountain stream, not in the published series; and next to it, are the +unpublished etchings of the Via Mala and Crowhurst. Turner seems to +have been so fond of these plates that he kept retouching and finishing +them, and never made up his mind to let them go. The Via Mala is +certainly, in the state in which Turner left it, the finest of the whole +series: its etching is, as I said, the best after that of the aqueduct. <a href="#fig_20">Figure +20</a>, above, is part of another fine unpublished etching, "Windsor, from +Salt Hill." Of the published etchings, the finest are the Ben Arthur, +Æsacus, Cephalus, and Stone Pines, with the Girl washing at a Cistern; +the three latter are the more generally instructive. Hindhead Hill, Isis, +Jason, and Morpeth, are also very desirable.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_26" href="#FnAnchor_26">[26]</a> You will find more notice of this point in the account of Harding's +tree-drawing, a little farther on.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_27" href="#FnAnchor_27">[27]</a> The impressions vary so much in color that no brown can be specified.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_28" href="#FnAnchor_28">[28]</a> You had better get such a photograph, even though you have a Liber +print as well.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_29" href="#FnAnchor_29">[29]</a> See the closing letter in this volume.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_30" href="#FnAnchor_30">[30]</a> [In 1857.]</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_31" href="#FnAnchor_31">[31]</a> If you are not acquainted with Harding's works, (an unlikely supposition, +considering their popularity,) and cannot meet with the one in +question, the diagrams given here will enable you to understand all that +is needful for our purposes.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_32" href="#FnAnchor_32">[32]</a> I draw this figure (a young shoot of oak) in outline only, it being +impossible to express the refinements of shade in distant foliage in a +wood-cut.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_33" href="#FnAnchor_33">[33]</a> His lithographic sketches, those for instance in the Park and the +Forest, and his various lessons on foliage, possess greater merit than the +more ambitious engravings in his Principles and Practice of Art. There +are many useful remarks, however, dispersed through this latter work.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_34" href="#FnAnchor_34">[34]</a> On this law you do well, if you can get access to it, to look at the +fourth chapter of the fourth volume of Modern Painters.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_35" href="#FnAnchor_35">[35]</a> See <a href="#note3">Note 3</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_36" href="#FnAnchor_36">[36]</a> The student may hardly at first believe that the perspective of buildings +is of little consequence; but he will find it so ultimately. See the +remarks on this point in the Preface.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_37" href="#FnAnchor_37">[37]</a> See <a href="#note4">Note 4</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_38" href="#FnAnchor_38">[38]</a> See <a href="#note5">Note 5</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_39" href="#FnAnchor_39">[39]</a> It is a useful piece of study to dissolve some Prussian blue in water, +so as to make the liquid definitely blue: fill a large white basin with the +solution, and put anything you like to float on it, or lie in it; walnut +shells, bits of wood, leaves of flowers, etc. Then study the effects of the +reflections, and of the stems of the flowers or submerged portions of the +floating objects, as they appear through the blue liquid; noting especially +how, as you lower your head and look along the surface, you see the reflections +clearly; and how, as you raise your head, you lose the reflections, +and see the submerged stems clearly.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_40" href="#FnAnchor_40">[40]</a> Respecting Architectural Drawing, see the notice of the works of +Prout in the Appendix.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page106"></a>106</span></p> + +<h3>LETTER III.</h3> + +<h5>ON COLOR AND COMPOSITION.</h5> + + +<p>152. <span class="sc">My dear Reader</span>,—If you have been obedient, and +have hitherto done all that I have told you, I trust it has +not been without much subdued remonstrance, and some +serious vexation. For I should be sorry if, when you were +led by the course of your study to observe closely such things +as are beautiful in color, you had not longed to paint them, +and felt considerable difficulty in complying with your +restriction to the use of black, or blue, or gray. You <i>ought</i> +to love color, and to think nothing quite beautiful or perfect +without it; and if you really do love it, for its own sake, +and are not merely desirous to color because you think painting +a finer thing than drawing, there is some chance you may +color well. Nevertheless, you need not hope ever to produce +anything more than pleasant helps to memory, or useful +and suggestive sketches in color, unless you mean to be +wholly an artist. You may, in the time which other vocations +leave at your disposal, produce finished, beautiful, and +masterly drawings in light and shade. But to color well, +requires your life. It cannot be done cheaper. The difficulty +of doing right is increased—not twofold nor threefold, but +a thousandfold, and more—by the addition of color to your +work. For the chances are more than a thousand to one +against your being right both in form and color with a given +touch: it is difficult enough to be right in form, if you attend +to that only; but when you have to attend, at the same +moment, to a much more subtle thing than the form, the +difficulty is strangely increased,—and multiplied almost to +infinity by this great fact, that, while form is absolute, so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107"></a>107</span> +that you can say at the moment you draw any line that it +is either right or wrong, color is wholly <i>relative</i>. Every hue +throughout your work is altered by every touch that you add +in other places; so that what was warm a minute ago, becomes +cold when you have put a hotter color in another place, and +what was in harmony when you left it, becomes discordant +as you set other colors beside it; so that every touch must +be laid, not with a view to its effect at the time, but with a +view to its effect in futurity, the result upon it of all that is +afterwards to be done being previously considered. You +may easily understand that, this being so, nothing but the +devotion of life, and great genius besides, can make a colorist.</p> + +<p>153. But though you cannot produce finished colored drawings +of any value, you may give yourself much pleasure, and +be of great use to other people, by occasionally sketching +with a view to color only; and preserving distinct statements +of certain color facts—as that the harvest moon at rising was +of such and such a red, and surrounded by clouds of such +and such a rosy gray; that the mountains at evening were in +truth so deep in purple; and the waves by the boat's side were +indeed of that incredible green. This only, observe, if you +have an eye for color; but you may presume that you have +this, if you enjoy color.</p> + +<p>154. And, though of course you should always give as +much form to your subject as your attention to its color will +admit of, remember that the whole value of what you are +about depends, in a colored sketch, on the color merely. +If the color is wrong, everything is wrong: just as, if you +are singing, and sing false notes, it does not matter how +true the words are. If you sing at all, you must sing sweetly; +and if you color at all, you must color rightly. Give up all +the form, rather than the slightest part of the color: just as, +if you felt yourself in danger of a false note, you would give +up the word, and sing a meaningless sound, if you felt that +so you could save the note. Never mind though your houses +are all tumbling down,—though your clouds are mere blots, +and your trees mere knobs, and your sun and moon like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108"></a>108</span> +crooked sixpences,—so only that trees, clouds, houses, and +sun or moon, are of the right colors. Of course, the discipline +you have gone through will enable you to hint something of +form, even in the fastest sweep of the brush; but do not let +the thought of form hamper you in the least, when you begin +to make colored memoranda. If you want the form of the +subject, draw it in black and white. If you want its color, +take its color, and be sure you <i>have</i> it, and not a spurious, +treacherous, half-measured piece of mutual concession, with +the colors all wrong, and the forms still anything but right. +It is best to get into the habit of considering the colored work +merely as supplementary to your other studies; making your +careful drawings of the subject first, and then a colored +memorandum separately, as shapeless as you like, but faithful +in hue, and entirely minding its own business. This +principle, however, bears chiefly on large and distant subjects: +in foregrounds and near studies, the color cannot be had +without a good deal of definition of form. For if you do not +map the mosses on the stones accurately, you will not have +the right quantity of color in each bit of moss pattern, and +then none of the colors will look right; but it always simplifies +the work much if you are clear as to your point of aim, +and satisfied, when necessary, to fail of all but that.</p> + +<p>155. Now, of course, if I were to enter into detail respecting +coloring, which is the beginning and end of a painter's +craft, I should need to make this a work in three volumes +instead of three letters, and to illustrate it in the costliest +way. I only hope, at present, to set you pleasantly and +profitably to work, leaving you, within the tethering of certain +leading-strings, to gather what advantages you can from the +works of art of which every year brings a greater number +within your reach;—and from the instruction which, every +year, our rising artists will be more ready to give kindly, +and better able to give wisely.</p> + +<p>156. And, first, of materials. Use hard cake colors, not +moist colors: grind a sufficient quantity of each on your palette +every morning, keeping a separate plate, large and deep, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109"></a>109</span> +colors to be used in broad washes, and wash both plate and +palette every evening, so as to be able always to get good and +pure color when you need it; and force yourself into cleanly +and orderly habits about your colors. The two best colorists +of modern times, Turner and Rossetti,<a name="FnAnchor_41" href="#Footnote_41"><span class="sp">[41]</span></a> afford us, I am sorry +to say, no confirmation of this precept by their practice. +Turner was, and Rossetti is, as slovenly in all their procedures +as men can well be; but the result of this was, with Turner, +that the colors have altered in all his pictures, and in many +of his drawings; and the result of it with Rossetti is, that +though his colors are safe, he has sometimes to throw aside +work that was half done, and begin over again. William +Hunt, of the Old Water-color, is very neat in his practice; +so, I believe, is Mulready; so is John Lewis; and so are the +leading Pre-Raphaelites, Rossetti only excepted. And there +can be no doubt about the goodness of the advice, if it were +only for this reason, that the more particular you are about +your colors the more you will get into a deliberate and methodical +habit in using them, and all true speed in coloring comes +of this deliberation.</p> + +<p>157. Use Chinese white, well ground, to mix with your +colors in order to pale them, instead of a quantity of water. +You will thus be able to shape your masses more quietly, +and play the colors about with more ease; they will not damp +your paper so much, and you will be able to go on continually, +and lay forms of passing cloud and other fugitive or delicately +shaped lights, otherwise unattainable except by time.</p> + +<p>158. This mixing of white with the pigments, so as to +render them opaque, constitutes body-color drawing as +opposed to transparent-color drawing, and you will, perhaps, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110"></a>110</span> +have it often said to you that this body-color is "illegitimate." +It is just as legitimate as oil-painting, being, so far as handling +is concerned, the same process, only without its uncleanliness, +its unwholesomeness, or its inconvenience; for oil will +not dry quickly, nor carry safely, nor give the same effects +of atmosphere without tenfold labor. And if you hear it said +that the body-color looks chalky or opaque, and, as is very +likely, think so yourself, be yet assured of this, that though +certain effects of glow and transparencies of gloom are not +to be reached without transparent color, those glows and +glooms are <i>not</i> the noblest aim of art. After many years' +study of the various results of fresco and oil painting in Italy, +and of body-color and transparent color in England, I am +now entirely convinced that the greatest things that are to +be done in art must be done in dead color. The habit of +depending on varnish or on lucid tints for transparency, +makes the painter comparatively lose sight of the nobler +translucence which is obtained by breaking various colors +amidst each other: and even when, as by Correggio, exquisite +play of hue is joined with exquisite transparency, the delight +in the depth almost always leads the painter into mean and +false chiaroscuro; it leads him to like dark backgrounds +instead of luminous ones,<a name="FnAnchor_42" href="#Footnote_42"><span class="sp">[42]</span></a> and to enjoy, in general, quality +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111"></a>111</span> +of color more than grandeur of composition, and confined +light rather than open sunshine: so that the really greatest +thoughts of the greatest men have always, so far as I remember, +been reached in dead color, and the noblest oil pictures of +Tintoret and Veronese are those which are likest frescoes.</p> + +<p>159. Besides all this, the fact is, that though sometimes a +little chalky and coarse-looking body-color is, in a sketch, +infinitely liker Nature than transparent color: the bloom and +mist of distance are accurately and instantly represented by +the film of opaque blue (<i>quite</i> accurately, I think, by nothing +else); and for ground, rocks, and buildings, the earthy +and solid surface is, of course, always truer than the most +finished and carefully wrought work in transparent tints +can ever be.</p> + +<p>160. Against one thing, however, I must steadily caution +you. All kinds of color are equally illegitimate, if you think +they will allow you to alter at your pleasure, or blunder at +your ease. There is <i>no</i> vehicle or method of color which +admits of alteration or repentance; you must be right at once, +or never; and you might as well hope to catch a rifle bullet in +your hand, and put it straight, when it was going wrong, +as to recover a tint once spoiled. The secret of all good color +in oil, water, or anything else, lies primarily in that sentence +spoken to me by Mulready: "Know what you have to do." +The process may be a long one, perhaps: you may have to +ground with one color; to touch it with fragments of a second; +to crumble a third into the interstices; a fourth into the +interstices of the third; to glaze the whole with a fifth; and +to re-enforce in points with a sixth: but whether you have +one, or ten, or twenty processes to go through, you must go +<i>straight</i> through them knowingly and foreseeingly all the +way; and if you get the thing once wrong, there is no hope +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112"></a>112</span> +for you but in washing or scraping boldly down to the white +ground, and beginning again.</p> + +<p>161. The drawing in body-color will tend to teach you all +this, more than any other method, and above all it will prevent +you from falling into the pestilent habit of sponging to get +texture; a trick which has nearly ruined our modern water-color +school of art. There are sometimes places in which a +skillful artist will roughen his paper a little to get certain +conditions of dusty color with more ease than he could otherwise; +and sometimes a skillfully rased piece of paper will, +in the midst of transparent tints, answer nearly the purpose +of chalky body-color in representing the surfaces of rocks or +building. But artifices of this kind are always treacherous +in a tyro's hands, tempting him to trust in them: and you +had better always work on white or gray paper as smooth as +silk;<a name="FnAnchor_43" href="#Footnote_43"><span class="sp">[43]</span></a> and never disturb the surface of your color or paper, +except finally to scratch out the very highest lights if you are +using transparent colors.</p> + +<p>162. I have said above that body-color drawing will teach +you the use of color better than working with merely transparent +tints; but this is not because the process is an easier +one, but because it is a more complete one, and also because +it involves some working with transparent tints in the best +way. You are not to think that because you use body-color +you may make any kind of mess that you like, and yet get +out of it. But you are to avail yourself of the characters of +your material, which enable you most nearly to imitate the +processes of Nature. Thus, suppose you have a red rocky +cliff to sketch, with blue clouds floating over it. You paint +your cliff first firmly, then take your blue, mixing it to such +a tint (and here is a great part of the skill needed) that when +it is laid over the red, in the thickness required for the effect +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113"></a>113</span> +of the mist, the warm rock-color showing through the blue +cloud-color, may bring it to exactly the hue you want (your +upper tint, therefore, must be mixed colder than you want +it); then you lay it on, varying it as you strike it, getting +the forms of the mist at once, and, if it be rightly done, +with exquisite quality of color, from the warm tint's showing +through and between the particles of the other. When it is +dry, you may add a little color to retouch the edges where +they want shape, or heighten the lights where they want +roundness, or put another tone over the whole: but you can +take none away. If you touch or disturb the surface, or by +any untoward accident mix the under and upper colors +together, all is lost irrecoverably. Begin your drawing from +the ground again if you like, or throw it into the fire if you +like. But do not waste time in trying to mend it.<a name="FnAnchor_44" href="#Footnote_44"><span class="sp">[44]</span></a></p> + +<p>163. This discussion of the relative merits of transparent +and opaque color has, however, led us a little beyond the point +where we should have begun; we must go back to our palette, +if you please. Get a cake of each of the hard colors named +in the note below<a name="FnAnchor_45" href="#Footnote_45"><span class="sp">[45]</span></a> and try experiments on their simple combinations, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114"></a>114</span> +by mixing each color with every other. If you like +to do it in an orderly way, you may prepare a squared piece +of pasteboard, and put the pure colors in columns at the top +and side; the mixed tints being given at the intersections, +thus (the letters standing for colors):</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="70%" summary="table"> + +<tr> <td class="lsp"> b</td> +<td class="lsp"> c</td> +<td class="lsp"> d</td> +<td class="lsp"> e</td> +<td class="lsp"> f</td> +<td class="lsp">etc.</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">a a b</td> <td class="lsp">a c</td> <td class="lsp">a d</td> <td class="lsp">a e</td> <td class="lsp">a f</td> <td> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">b —</td> <td class="lsp">b c</td> <td class="lsp">b d</td> <td class="lsp">b e</td> <td class="lsp">b f</td> <td> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">c —</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">c d</td> <td class="lsp">c e</td> <td class="lsp">c f</td> <td> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">d —</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">d e</td> <td class="lsp">d f</td> <td> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">e —</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">—</td> <td class="lsp">e f</td> <td> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">etc.</td> <td colspan="5"> </td> </tr> + +</table> + +<p>This will give you some general notion of the characters +of mixed tints of two colors only, and it is better in practice +to confine yourself as much as possible to these, and to get +more complicated colors, either by putting the third <i>over</i> the +first blended tint, or by putting the third into its interstices. +Nothing but watchful practice will teach you the effects that +colors have on each other when thus put over, or beside, each +other.</p> + +<p>164. When you have got a little used to the principal +combinations, place yourself at a window which the sun +does not shine in at, commanding some simple piece of landscape: +outline this landscape roughly; then take a piece of +white cardboard, cut out a hole in it about the size of a large +pea; and supposing <span class="sc">R</span> is the room, <i>a d</i> the window, and you +are sitting at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_29">Fig. 29</a>, hold this cardboard a little outside of +the window, upright, and in the direction <i>b d</i>, parallel to +the side of the window, or a little turned, so as to catch more +light, as at <i>a d</i>, never turned as at <i>c d</i>, or the paper will be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115"></a>115</span> +dark. Then you will see the landscape, bit by bit, through the +circular hole. Match the colors of each important bit as +nearly as you can, mixing your tints with white, beside the +aperture. When matched, put a touch of the same tint at +the top of your paper, writing under it: "dark tree color," +"hill color," "field color," as the case may be. Then wash +the tint away from beside the opening, and the cardboard will +be ready to match another piece of the landscape.<a name="FnAnchor_46" href="#Footnote_46"><span class="sp">[46]</span></a> When +you have got the colors of the principal masses thus indicated, +lay on a piece of each in your sketch in its right place, and +then proceed to complete the sketch in harmony with them, +by your eye.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_29"><img src="images/img115.jpg" width="250" height="257" alt="Fig. 29." title="Fig. 29." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 29.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>165. In the course of your early experiments, you will be +much struck by two things: the first, the inimitable brilliancy +of light in sky and in sunlighted things; and the second, +that among the tints which you can imitate, those which you +thought the darkest will continually turn out to be in reality +the lightest. Darkness of objects is estimated by us, under +ordinary circumstances, much more by knowledge than by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116"></a>116</span> +sight; thus, a cedar or Scotch fir, at 200 yards off, will be +thought of darker green than an elm or oak near us; because +we know by experience that the peculiar color they exhibit, +at that distance, is the <i>sign</i> of darkness of foliage. But when +we try them through the cardboard, the near oak will be +found, indeed, rather dark green, and the distant cedar, +perhaps, pale gray-purple. The quantity of purple and gray +in Nature is, by the way, another somewhat surprising +subject of discovery.</p> + +<p>166. Well, having ascertained thus your principal tints, +you may proceed to fill up your sketch; in doing which +observe these following particulars:</p> + +<p>(1.) Many portions of your subject appeared through the +aperture in the paper brighter than the paper, as sky, sunlighted +grass, etc. Leave these portions, for the present, +white; and proceed with the parts of which you can match +the tints.</p> + +<p>(2.) As you tried your subject with the cardboard, you +must have observed how many changes of hue took place over +small spaces. In filling up your work, try to educate your +eye to perceive these differences of hue without the help of +the cardboard, and lay them deliberately, like a mosaic-worker, +as separate colors, preparing each carefully on your +palette, and laying it as if it were a patch of colored cloth, cut +out, to be fitted neatly by its edge to the next patch; so that +the <i>fault</i> of your work may be, not a slurred or misty look, +but a patched bed-cover look, as if it had all been cut out +with scissors. For instance, in drawing the trunk of a birch +tree, there will be probably white high lights, then a pale +rosy gray round them on the light side, then a (probably +greenish) deeper gray on the dark side, varied by reflected +colors, and, over all, rich black strips of bark and brown +spots of moss. Lay first the rosy gray, leaving white for the +high lights <i>and for the spots of moss</i>, and not touching the +dark side. Then lay the gray for the dark side, fitting it +well up to the rosy gray of the light, leaving also in this +darker gray the white paper in the places for the black and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117"></a>117</span> +brown moss; then prepare the moss colors separately for each +spot, and lay each in the white place left for it. Not one +grain of white, except that purposely left for the high lights, +must be visible when the work is done, even through a magnifying-glass, +so cunningly must you fit the edges to each +other. Finally, take your background colors, and put them +on each side of the tree trunk, fitting them carefully to its +edge.</p> + +<p>167. Fine work you would make of this, wouldn't you, +if you had not learned to draw first, and could not now draw +a good outline for the stem, much less terminate a color +mass in the outline you wanted?</p> + +<p>Your work will look very odd for some time, when you +first begin to paint in this way, and before you can modify it, +as I shall tell you presently how; but never mind; it is of +the greatest possible importance that you should practice this +separate laying on of the hues, for all good coloring finally +depends on it. It is, indeed, often necessary, and sometimes +desirable, to lay one color and form boldly over another: thus, +in laying leaves on blue sky, it is impossible always in large +pictures, or when pressed for time, to fill in the blue through +the interstices of the leaves; and the great Venetians constantly +lay their blue ground first, and then, having let it +dry, strike the golden brown over it in the form of the leaf, +leaving the under blue to shine through the gold, and subdue +it to the olive-green they want. But in the most precious and +perfect work each leaf is inlaid, and the blue worked round +it; and, whether you use one or other mode of getting your +result, it is equally necessary to be absolute and decisive in +your laying the color. Either your ground must be laid +firmly first, and then your upper color struck upon it in perfect +form, forever, thenceforward, unalterable; or else the two +colors must be individually put in their places, and led up +to each other till they meet at their appointed border, equally, +thenceforward, unchangeable. Either process, you see, involves +absolute decision. If you once begin to slur, or change, +or sketch, or try this way and that with your color, it is all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118"></a>118</span> +over with it and with you. You will continually see bad +copyists trying to imitate the Venetians, by daubing their +colors about, and retouching, and finishing, and softening: +when every touch and every added hue only lead them farther +into chaos. There is a dog between two children in a Veronese +in the Louvre, which gives the copyists much employment. +He has a dark ground behind him, which Veronese +has painted first, and then when it was dry, or nearly so, +struck the locks of the dog's white hair over it with some +half-dozen curling sweeps of his brush, right at once, and +forever. Had one line or hair of them gone wrong, it would +have been wrong forever; no retouching could have mended +it. The poor copyists daub in first some background, and +then some dog's hair; then retouch the background, then +the hair; work for hours at it, expecting it always to come +right to-morrow—"when it is finished." They <i>may</i> work +for centuries at it, and they will never do it. If they can +do it with Veronese's allowance of work, half a dozen sweeps +of the hand over the dark background, well; if not, they may +ask the dog himself whether it will ever come right, and get +true answer from him—on Launce's conditions: "If he say +'ay,' it will; if he say 'no,' it will; if he shake his tail and +say nothing, it will."</p> + +<p>168. (3.) Whenever you lay on a mass of color, be sure +that however large it may be, or however small, it shall be +gradated. No color exists in Nature under ordinary circumstances +without gradation. If you do not see this, it is the +fault of your inexperience: you will see it in due time, if +you practice enough. But in general you may see it at once. +In the birch trunk, for instance, the rosy gray <i>must</i> be gradated +by the roundness of the stem till it meets the shaded +side; similarly the shaded side is gradated by reflected light. +Accordingly, whether by adding water, or white paint, or +by unequal force of touch (this you will do at pleasure, +according to the texture you wish to produce), you must, in +every tint you lay on, make it a little paler at one part than +another, and get an even gradation between the two depths. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119"></a>119</span> +This is very like laying down a formal law or recipe for you; +but you will find it is merely the assertion of a natural fact. +It is not indeed physically impossible to meet with an +ungradated piece of color, but it is so supremely improbable, +that you had better get into the habit of asking yourself +invariably, when you are going to copy a tint—not "Is that +gradated?" but "Which way is that gradated?" and at least +in ninety-nine out of a hundred instances, you will be able +to answer decisively after a careful glance, though the gradation +may have been so subtle that you did not see it at first. +And it does not matter how small the touch of color may +be, though not larger than the smallest pin's head, if one +part of it is not darker than the rest, it is a bad touch; for +it is not merely because the natural fact is so, that your color +should be gradated; the preciousness and pleasantness of the +color itself depends more on this than on any other of its +qualities, for gradation is to colors just what curvature is to +lines, both being felt to be beautiful by the pure instinct of +every human mind, and both, considered as types, expressing +the law of gradual change and progress in the human soul +itself. What the difference is in mere beauty between a +gradated and ungradated color, may be seen easily by laying +an even tint of rose-color on paper, and putting a rose leaf +beside it. The victorious beauty of the rose as compared +with other flowers, depends wholly on the delicacy and +quantity of its color gradations, all other flowers being either +less rich in gradation, not having so many folds of leaf; or +less tender, being patched and veined instead of flushed.</p> + +<p>169. (4.) But observe, it is not enough in general that +color should be gradated by being made merely paler or darker +at one place than another. Generally color changes as it +diminishes, and is not merely darker at one spot, but also +purer at one spot than anywhere else. It does not in the least +follow that the darkest spots should be the purest; still less +so that the lightest should be the purest. Very often the two +gradations more or less cross each other, one passing in one +direction from paleness to darkness, another in another +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120"></a>120</span> +direction from purity to dullness, but there will almost +always be both of them, however reconciled; and you must +never be satisfied with a piece of color until you have got +both: that is to say, every piece of blue that you lay on must +be <i>quite</i> blue only at some given spot, nor that a large spot; +and must be gradated from that into less pure blue,—grayish +blue, or greenish blue, or purplish blue,—over all the rest +of the space it occupies. And this you must do in one of +three ways: either, while the color is wet, mix with it the +color which is to subdue it, adding gradually a little more +and a little more; or else, when the color is quite dry, strike +a gradated touch of another color over it, leaving only a +point of the first tint visible; or else, lay the subduing tints +on in small touches, as in the exercise of tinting the chess-board. +Of each of these methods I have something to tell +you separately; but that is distinct from the subject of +gradation, which I must not quit without once more pressing +upon you the preëminent necessity of introducing it everywhere. +I have profound dislike of anything like habit of +hand, and yet, in this one instance, I feel almost tempted +to encourage you to get into a habit of never touching paper +with color, without securing a gradation. You will not, in +Turner's largest oil pictures, perhaps six or seven feet long +by four or five high, find one spot of color as large as a +grain of wheat ungradated: and you will find in practice, +that brilliancy of hue, and vigor of light, and even the aspect +of transparency in shade, are essentially dependent on this +character alone; hardness, coldness, and opacity resulting +far more from <i>equality</i> of color than from nature of color. +Give me some mud off a city crossing, some ocher out of a +gravel pit, a little whitening, and some coal-dust, and I will +paint you a luminous picture, if you give me time to gradate +my mud, and subdue my dust: but though you had the red +of the ruby, the blue of the gentian, snow for the light, and +amber for the gold, you cannot paint a luminous picture, +if you keep the masses of those colors unbroken in purity, +and unvarying in depth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page121"></a>121</span></p> + +<p>170. (5.) Next, note the three processes by which gradation +and other characters are to be obtained:</p> + +<p>A. Mixing while the color is wet.</p> + +<p>You may be confused by my first telling you to lay on the +hues in separate patches, and then telling you to mix hues +together as you lay them on: but the separate masses are to +be laid, when colors distinctly oppose each other at a given +limit; the hues to be mixed, when they palpitate one through +the other, or fade one into the other. It is better to err a +little on the distinct side. Thus I told you to paint the dark +and light sides of the birch trunk separately, though, in +reality, the two tints change, as the trunk turns away from +the light, gradually one into the other; and, after being laid +separately on, will need some farther touching to harmonize +them: but they do so in a very narrow space, marked distinctly +all the way up the trunk, and it is easier and safer, therefore, +to keep them separate at first. Whereas it often happens +that the whole beauty of two colors will depend on the one +being continued well through the other, and playing in the +midst of it: blue and green often do so in water; blue and +gray, or purple and scarlet, in sky: in hundreds of such +instances the most beautiful and truthful results may be +obtained by laying one color into the other while wet; judging +wisely how far it will spread, or blending it with the +brush in somewhat thicker consistence of wet body-color; +only observe, never mix in this way two <i>mixtures</i>; let the +color you lay into the other be always a simple, not a +compound tint.</p> + +<p>171. B. Laying one color over another.</p> + +<p>If you lay on a solid touch of vermilion, and after it is +quite dry, strike a little very wet carmine quickly over it, +you will obtain a much more brilliant red than by mixing the +carmine and vermilion. Similarly, if you lay a dark color +first, and strike a little blue or white body-color lightly +over it, you will get a more beautiful gray than by mixing +the color and the blue or white. In very perfect painting, +artifices of this kind are continually used; but I would not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122"></a>122</span> +have you trust much to them: they are apt to make you think +too much of quality of color. I should like you to depend +on little more than the dead colors, simply laid on, only +observe always this, that the <i>less</i> color you do the work with, +the better it will always be:<a name="FnAnchor_47" href="#Footnote_47"><span class="sp">[47]</span></a> so that if you had laid a red +color, and you want a purple one above, do not mix the purple +on your palette and lay it on so thick as to overpower the red, +but take a little thin blue from your palette, and lay it lightly +over the red, so as to let the red be seen through, and thus +produce the required purple; and if you want a green hue +over a blue one, do not lay a quantity of green on the blue, +but a <i>little</i> yellow, and so on, always bringing the under +color into service as far as you possibly can. If, however, +the color beneath is wholly opposed to the one you have to lay +on, as, suppose, if green is to be laid over scarlet, you must +either remove the required parts of the under color daintily +first with your knife, or with water; or else, lay solid white +over it massively, and leave that to dry, and then glaze the +white with the upper color. This is better, in general, than +laying the upper color itself so thick as to conquer the ground, +which, in fact, if it be a transparent color, you cannot do. +Thus, if you have to strike warm boughs and leaves of trees +over blue sky, and they are too intricate to have their places +left for them in laying the blue, it is better to lay them first +in solid white, and then glaze with sienna and ocher, than to +mix the sienna and white; though, of course, the process is +longer and more troublesome. Nevertheless, if the forms +of touches required are very delicate, the after glazing is +impossible. You must then mix the warm color thick at once, +and so use it: and this is often necessary for delicate grasses, +and such other fine threads of light in foreground work.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page123"></a>123</span></p> + +<p>172. C. Breaking one color in small points through or over +another.</p> + +<p>This is the most important of all processes in good modern<a name="FnAnchor_48" href="#Footnote_48"><span class="sp">[48]</span></a> +oil and water-color painting, but you need not hope to attain +very great skill in it. To do it well is very laborious, and +requires such skill and delicacy of hand as can only be +acquired by unceasing practice. But you will find advantage +in noting the following points:</p> + +<p>173. (<i>a.</i>) In distant effects of rich subject, wood, or +rippled water, or broken clouds, much may be done by +touches or crumbling dashes of rather dry color, with other +colors afterwards put cunningly into the interstices. The +more you practice this, when the subject evidently calls for +it, the more your eye will enjoy the higher qualities of color. +The process is, in fact, the carrying out of the principle of +separate colors to the utmost possible refinement; using atoms +of color in juxtaposition, instead of large spaces. And note, +in filling up minute interstices of this kind, that if you +want the color you fill them with to show brightly, it is better +to put a rather positive point of it, with a little white left +beside or round it in the interstice, than to put a pale tint of +the color over the whole interstice. Yellow or orange will +hardly show, if pale, in small spaces; but they show brightly +in firm touches, however small, with white beside them.</p> + +<p>174. (<i>b.</i>) If a color is to be darkened by superimposed +portions of another, it is, in many cases, better to lay the +uppermost color in rather vigorous small touches, like finely +chopped straw, over the under one, than to lay it on as a tint, +for two reasons: the first, that the play of the two colors +together is pleasant to the eye; the second, that much expression +of form may be got by wise administration of the upper +dark touches. In distant mountains they may be made pines +of, or broken crags, or villages, or stones, or whatever you +choose; in clouds they may indicate the direction of the rain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124"></a>124</span> +the roll and outline of the cloud masses; and in water, the +minor waves. All noble effects of dark atmosphere are got +in good water-color drawing by these two expedients, interlacing +the colors, or retouching the lower one with fine darker +drawing in an upper. Sponging and washing for dark +atmospheric effect is barbarous, and mere tyro's work, though +it is often useful for passages of delicate atmospheric light.</p> + +<p>175. (<i>c.</i>) When you have time, practice the production +of mixed tints by interlaced touches of the pure colors out +of which they are formed, and use the process at the parts +of your sketches where you wish to get rich and luscious +effects. Study the works of William Hunt, of the Old +Water-color Society, in this respect, continually, and make +frequent memoranda of the variegations in flowers; not painting +the flower completely, but laying the ground color of one +petal, and painting the spots on it with studious precision: +a series of single petals of lilies, geraniums, tulips, etc., +numbered with proper reference to their position in the +flower, will be interesting to you on many grounds besides +those of art. Be careful to get the gradated distribution of +the spots well followed in the calceolarias, foxgloves, and +the like; and work out the odd, indefinite hues of the spots +themselves with minute grains of pure interlaced color, otherwise +you will never get their richness or bloom. You will +be surprised to find as you do this, first, the universality of +the law of gradation we have so much insisted upon; secondly, +that Nature is just as economical of <i>her</i> fine colors as I +have told you to be of yours. You would think, by the way +she paints, that her colors cost her something enormous; she +will only give you a single pure touch, just where the petal +turns into light; but down in the bell all is subdued, and +under the petal all is subdued, even in the showiest flower. +What you thought was bright blue is, when you look close, +only dusty gray, or green, or purple, or every color in the +world at once, only a single gleam or streak of pure blue in +the center of it. And so with all her colors. Sometimes I +have really thought her miserliness intolerable: in a gentian, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125"></a>125</span> +for instance, the way she economizes her ultramarine down +in the bell is a little too bad.<a name="FnAnchor_49" href="#Footnote_49"><span class="sp">[49]</span></a></p> + +<p>176. Next, respecting general tone. I said, just now, +that, for the sake of students, my tax should not be laid on +black or on white pigments; but if you mean to be a colorist, +you must lay a tax on them yourself when you begin to use +true color; that is to say, you must use them little, and make +of them much. There is no better test of your color tones +being good, than your having made the white in your picture +precious, and the black conspicuous.</p> + +<p>177. I say, first, the white precious. I do not mean +merely glittering or brilliant: it is easy to scratch white seagulls +out of black clouds, and dot clumsy foliage with chalky +dew; but when white is well managed, it ought to be strangely +delicious,—tender as well as bright,—like inlaid mother +of pearl, or white roses washed in milk. The eye ought to +seek it for rest, brilliant though it may be; and to feel it as +a space of strange, heavenly paleness in the midst of the flushing +of the colors. This effect you can only reach by general +depth of middle tint, by absolutely refusing to allow any +white to exist except where you need it, and by keeping the +white itself subdued by gray, except at a few points of chief +luster.</p> + +<p>178. Secondly, you must make the black conspicuous. +However small a point of black may be, it ought to catch the +eye, otherwise your work is too heavy in the shadow. All +the ordinary shadows should be of some <i>color</i>,—never black, +nor approaching black, they should be evidently and always +of a luminous nature, and the black should look strange +among them; never occurring except in a black object, or in +small points indicative of intense shade in the very center +of masses of shadow. Shadows of absolutely negative gray, +however, may be beautifully used with white, or with gold; +but still though the black thus, in subdued strength, becomes +spacious, it should always be conspicuous; the spectator +should notice this gray neutrality with some wonder, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126"></a>126</span> +enjoy, all the more intensely on account of it, the gold color +and the white which it relieves. Of all the great colorists +Velasquez is the greatest master of the black chords. His +black is more precious than most other people's crimson.</p> + +<p>179. It is not, however, only white and black which you +must make valuable; you must give rare worth to every +color you use; but the white and black ought to separate themselves +quaintly from the rest, while the other colors should be +continually passing one into the other, being all evidently +companions in the same gay world; while the white, black, +and neutral gray should stand monkishly aloof in the midst +of them. You may melt your crimson into purple, your +purple into blue, and your blue into green, but you must +not melt any of them into black. You should, however, +try, as I said, to give preciousness to all your colors; and +this especially by never using a grain more than will just do +the work, and giving each hue the highest value by opposition. +All fine coloring, like fine drawing, is delicate; and so +delicate that if, at last, you <i>see</i> the color you are putting on, +you are putting on too much. You ought to feel a change +wrought in the general tone, by touches of color which +individually are too pale to be seen; and if there is one atom +of any color in the whole picture which is unnecessary to it, +that atom hurts it.</p> + +<p>180. Notice also that nearly all good compound colors are +<i>odd</i> colors. You shall look at a hue in a good painter's work +ten minutes before you know what to call it. You thought +it was brown, presently you feel that it is red; next that there +is, somehow, yellow in it; presently afterwards that there is +blue in it. If you try to copy it you will always find your +color too warm or too cold—no color in the box will seem to +have an affinity with it; and yet it will be as pure as if it +were laid at a single touch with a single color.</p> + +<p>181. As to the choice and harmony of colors in general, +if you cannot choose and harmonize them by instinct, you +will never do it at all. If you need examples of utterly +harsh and horrible color, you may find plenty given in treatises +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127"></a>127</span> +upon coloring, to illustrate the laws of harmony; and +if you want to color beautifully, color as best pleases yourself +at <i>quiet times</i>, not so as to catch the eye, nor look as if +it were clever or difficult to color in that way, but so that the +color may be pleasant to you when you are happy or thoughtful. +Look much at the morning and evening sky, and much +at simple flowers—dog-roses, wood-hyacinths, violets, poppies, +thistles, heather, and such like,—as Nature arranges them in +the woods and fields. If ever any scientific person tells you +that two colors are "discordant," make a note of the two +colors, and put them together whenever you can. I have +actually heard people say that blue and green were discordant; +the two colors which Nature seems to intend never to be +separated, and never to be felt, either of them, in its full +beauty without the other!—a peacock's neck, or a blue sky +through green leaves, or a blue wave with green lights +through it, being precisely the loveliest things, next to clouds +at sunrise, in this colored world of ours. If you have a good +eye for colors, you will soon find out how constantly Nature +puts purple and green together, purple and scarlet, green and +blue, yellow and neutral gray, and the like; and how she +strikes these color-concords for general tones, and then works +into them with innumerable subordinate ones; and you will +gradually come to like what she does, and find out new and +beautiful chords of color in her work every day. If you +enjoy them, depend upon it you will paint them to a certain +point right: or, at least, if you do not enjoy them, you are +certain to paint them wrong. If color does not give you +intense pleasure, let it alone; depend upon it, you are only +tormenting the eyes and senses of people who feel color, +whenever you touch it; and that is unkind and improper.</p> + +<p>182. You will find, also, your power of coloring depend +much on your state of health and right balance of mind; +when you are fatigued or ill you will not see colors well, +and when you are ill-tempered you will not choose them well: +thus, though not infallibly a test of character in individuals, +color power is a great sign of mental health in nations; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128"></a>128</span> +when they are in a state of intellectual decline, their coloring +always gets dull.<a name="FnAnchor_50" href="#Footnote_50"><span class="sp">[50]</span></a> You must also take great care not to be +misled by affected talk about colors from people who have +not the gift of it: numbers are eager and voluble about it +who probably never in all their lives received one genuine +color-sensation. The modern religionists of the school of +Overbeck are just like people who eat slate-pencil and chalk, +and assure everybody that they are nicer and purer than +strawberries and plums.</p> + +<p>183. Take care also never to be misled into any idea +that color can help or display <i>form</i>; color<a name="FnAnchor_51" href="#Footnote_51"><span class="sp">[51]</span></a> always disguises +form, and is meant to do so.</p> + +<p>184. It is a favorite dogma among modern writers on +color that "warm colors" (reds and yellows) "approach," +or express nearness, and "cold colors" (blue and gray) +"retire," or express distance. So far is this from being +the case, that no expression of distance in the world is so great +as that of the gold and orange in twilight sky. Colors, as +such, are <span class="sc">ABSOLUTELY</span> inexpressive respecting distance. It +is their quality (as depth, delicacy, etc.) which expresses +distance, not their tint. A blue bandbox set on the same +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129"></a>129</span> +shelf with a yellow one will not look an inch farther off, +but a red or orange cloud, in the upper sky, will always +appear to be beyond a blue cloud close to us, as it is in +reality. It is quite true that in certain objects, blue is a <i>sign</i> +of distance; but that is not because blue is a retiring color, +but because the mist in the air is blue, and therefore any +warm color which has not strength of light enough to pierce +the mist is lost or subdued in its blue: but blue is no more, +on this account, a "retiring color," than brown is a retiring +color, because, when stones are seen through brown water, +the deeper they lie the browner they look; or than yellow +is a retiring color, because, when objects are seen through a +London fog, the farther off they are the yellower they look. +Neither blue, nor yellow, nor red, can have, as such, the +smallest power of expressing either nearness or distance: they +express them only under the peculiar circumstances which +render them at the moment, or in that place, <i>signs</i> of nearness +or distance. Thus, vivid orange in an orange is a sign of +nearness, for if you put the orange a great way off, its color +will not look so bright; but vivid orange in sky is a sign of +distance, because you cannot get the color of orange in a cloud +near you. So purple in a violet or a hyacinth is a sign of +nearness, because the closer you look at them the more purple +you see. But purple in a mountain is a sign of distance, +because a mountain close to you is not purple, but green or +gray. It may, indeed, be generally assumed that a tender +or pale color will more or less express distance, and a powerful +or dark color nearness; but even this is not always so. +Heathery hills will usually give a pale and tender purple +near, and an intense and dark purple far away; the rose +color of sunset on snow is pale on the snow at your feet, +deep and full on the snow in the distance; and the green +of a Swiss lake is pale in the clear waves on the beach, but +intense as an emerald in the sunstreak six miles from shore. +And in any case, when the foreground is in strong light, with +much water about it, or white surface, casting intense reflections, +all its colors may be perfectly delicate, pale, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130"></a>130</span> +faint; while the distance, when it is in shadow, may relieve +the whole foreground with intense darks of purple, blue +green, or ultramarine blue. So that, on the whole, it is +quite hopeless and absurd to expect any help from laws of +"aërial perspective." Look for the natural effects, and set +them down as fully as you can, and as faithfully, and <i>never</i> +alter a color because it won't look in its right place. Put +the color strong, if it be strong, though far off; faint, if it +be faint, though close to you. Why should you suppose that +Nature always means you to know exactly how far one thing +is from another? She certainly intends you always to enjoy +her coloring, but she does not wish you always to measure +her space. You would be hard put to it, every time you +painted the sun setting, if you had to express his 95,000,000 +miles of distance in "aërial perspective."</p> + +<p>185. There is, however, I think, one law about distance, +which has some claims to be considered a constant one: +namely, that dullness and heaviness of color are more or less +indicative of nearness. All distant color is <i>pure</i> color: it +may not be bright, but it is clear and lovely, not opaque nor +soiled; for the air and light coming between us and any +earthy or imperfect color, purify or harmonize it; hence a +bad colorist is peculiarly incapable of expressing distance. +I do not of course mean that you are to use bad colors in +your foreground by way of making it come forward; but +only that a failure in color, there, will not put it out of its +place; while a failure in color in the distance will at once +do away with its remoteness; your dull-colored foreground +will still be a foreground, though ill-painted; but your ill-painted +distance will not be merely a dull distance,—it will +be no distance at all.</p> + +<p>186. I have only one thing more to advise you, namely, +never to color petulantly or hurriedly. You will not, indeed, +be able, if you attend properly to your coloring, to get anything +like the quantity of form you could in a chiaroscuro +sketch; nevertheless, if you do not dash or rush at your work, +nor do it lazily, you may always get enough form to be satisfactory. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131"></a>131</span> +An extra quarter of an hour, distributed in quietness +over the course of the whole study, may just make the +difference between a quite intelligible drawing, and a slovenly +and obscure one. If you determine well beforehand what +outline each piece of color is to have, and, when it is on the +paper, guide it without nervousness, as far as you can, into +the form required; and then, after it is dry, consider +thoroughly what touches are needed to complete it, before +laying one of them on; you will be surprised to find how +masterly the work will soon look, as compared with a hurried +or ill-considered sketch. In no process that I know of—least +of all in sketching—can time be really gained by +precipitation. It is gained only by caution; and gained in +all sorts of ways; for not only truth of form, but force of +light, is always added by an intelligent and shapely laying +of the shadow colors. You may often make a simple flat tint, +rightly gradated and edged, express a complicated piece of +subject without a single retouch. The two Swiss cottages, +for instance, with their balconies, and glittering windows, +and general character of shingly eaves, are expressed in <a href="#fig_30">Fig. +30</a> with one tint of gray, and a few dispersed spots and lines +of it; all of which you ought to be able to lay on without +more than thrice dipping your brush, and without a single +touch after the tint is dry.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_30"><img src="images/img131.jpg" width="400" height="271" alt="Fig. 30." title="Fig. 30." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 30.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>187. Here, then, for I cannot without colored illustrations +tell you more, I must leave you to follow out the subject +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132"></a>132</span> +for yourself, with such help as you may receive from the +water-color drawings accessible to you; or from any of the +little treatises on their art which have been published lately +by our water-color painters.<a name="FnAnchor_52" href="#Footnote_52"><span class="sp">[52]</span></a> But do not trust much to +works of this kind. You may get valuable hints from them +as to mixture of colors; and here and there you will find a +useful artifice or process explained; but nearly all such books +are written only to help idle amateurs to a meretricious skill, +and they are full of precepts and principles which may, +for the most part, be interpreted by their <i>precise</i> negatives, +and then acted upon with advantage. Most of them praise +boldness, when the only safe attendant spirit of a beginner is +caution;—advise velocity, when the first condition of success +is deliberation;—and plead for generalization, when all the +foundations of power must be laid in knowledge of speciality.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>188. And now, in the last place, I have a few things to +tell you respecting that dangerous nobleness of consummate +art,—<span class="sc">Composition</span>. For though it is quite unnecessary for +you yet awhile to attempt it, and it <i>may</i> be inexpedient for +you to attempt it at all, you ought to know what it means, +and to look for and enjoy it in the art of others.</p> + +<p>Composition means, literally and simply, putting several +things together, so as to make <i>one</i> thing out of them; the +nature and goodness of which they all have a share in producing. +Thus a musician composes an air, by putting notes +together in certain relations; a poet composes a poem, by +putting thoughts and words in pleasant order; and a painter +a picture, by putting thoughts, forms, and colors in pleasant +order.</p> + +<p>In all these cases, observe, an intended unity must be the +result of composition. A pavior cannot be said to compose +the heap of stones which he empties from his cart, nor the +sower the handful of seed which he scatters from his hand. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133"></a>133</span> +It is the essence of composition that everything should be in +a determined place, perform an intended part, and act, in +that part, advantageously for everything that is connected +with it.</p> + +<p>189. Composition, understood in this pure sense, is the +type, in the arts of mankind, of the Providential government +of the world.<a name="FnAnchor_53" href="#Footnote_53"><span class="sp">[53]</span></a> It is an exhibition, in the order given to notes, +or colors, or forms, of the advantage of perfect fellowship, +discipline, and contentment. In a well-composed air, no +note, however short or low, can be spared, but the least is +as necessary as the greatest: no note, however prolonged, is +tedious; but the others prepare for, and are benefited by, its +duration: no note, however high, is tyrannous; the others +prepare for, and are benefited by, its exaltation: no note, +however low, is overpowered; the others prepare for, and +sympathize with, its humility: and the result is, that each +and every note has a value in the position assigned to it, +which, by itself, it never possessed, and of which, by separation +from the others, it would instantly be deprived.</p> + +<p>190. Similarly, in a good poem, each word and thought +enhances the value of those which precede and follow it; +and every syllable has a loveliness which depends not so +much on its abstract sound as on its position. Look at the +same word in a dictionary, and you will hardly recognize it.</p> + +<p>Much more in a great picture; every line and color is so +arranged as to advantage the rest. None are inessential, +however slight; and none are independent, however forcible. +It is not enough that they truly represent natural objects; +but they must fit into certain places, and gather into certain +harmonious groups: so that, for instance, the red chimney +of a cottage is not merely set in its place as a chimney, but +that it may affect, in a certain way pleasurable to the eye, the +pieces of green or blue in other parts of the picture; and we +ought to see that the work is masterly, merely by the positions +and quantities of these patches of green, red, and blue, even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134"></a>134</span> +at a distance which renders it perfectly impossible to determine +what the colors represent: or to see whether the red is a +chimney, or an old woman's cloak; and whether the blue is +smoke, sky, or water.</p> + +<p>191. It seems to be appointed, in order to remind us, in +all we do, of the great laws of Divine government and human +polity, that composition in the arts should strongly affect +every order of mind, however unlearned or thoughtless. +Hence the popular delight in rhythm and meter, and in simple +musical melodies. But it is also appointed that <i>power</i> of +composition in the fine arts should be an exclusive attribute +of great intellect. All men can more or less copy what they +see, and, more or less, remember it: powers of reflection and +investigation are also common to us all, so that the decision +of inferiority in these rests only on questions of <i>degree</i>. A. +has a better memory than B., and C. reflects more profoundly +than D. But the gift of composition is not given <i>at all</i> to +more than one man in a thousand; in its highest range, it +does not occur above three or four times in a century.</p> + +<p>192. It follows, from these general truths, that it is +impossible to give rules which will enable you to compose. +You might much more easily receive rules to enable you to be +witty. If it were possible to be witty by rule, wit would +cease to be either admirable or amusing: if it were possible +to compose melody by rule, Mozart and Cimarosa need not +have been born: if it were possible to compose pictures by +rule, Titian and Veronese would be ordinary men. The +essence of composition lies precisely in the fact of its being +unteachable, in its being the operation of an individual mind +of range and power exalted above others.</p> + +<p>But though no one can <i>invent</i> by rule, there are some +simple laws of arrangement which it is well for you to know, +because, though they will not enable you to produce a good +picture, they will often assist you to set forth what goodness +may be in your work in a more telling way than you could +have done otherwise; and by tracing them in the work of +good composers, you may better understand the grasp of their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135"></a>135</span> +imagination, and the power it possesses over their materials. +I shall briefly state the chief of these laws.</p> + + +<p class="title1">1. THE LAW OF PRINCIPALITY.</p> + +<p>193. The great object of composition being always to +secure unity; that is, to make out of many things one whole; +the first mode in which this can be effected is, by determining +that <i>one</i> feature shall be more important than all the +rest, and that the others shall group with it in subordinate +positions.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_31"><img src="images/img135.jpg" width="400" height="163" alt="Fig. 31." title="Fig. 31." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 31.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>This is the simplest law of ordinary ornamentation. Thus +the group of two leaves, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_31">Fig. 31</a>, is unsatisfactory, because +it has no leading leaf; but that at <i>b</i> <i>is</i> prettier, because it has +a head or master leaf; and <i>c</i> more satisfactory still, because +the subordination of the other members to this head leaf is +made more manifest by their gradual loss of size as they +fall back from it. Hence part of the pleasure we have in the +Greek honeysuckle ornament, and such others.</p> + +<p>194. Thus, also, good pictures have always one light +larger and brighter than the other lights, or one figure more +prominent than the other figures, or one mass of color +dominant over all the other masses; and in general you will +find it much benefit your sketch if you manage that there shall +be one light on the cottage wall, or one blue cloud in the sky, +which may attract the eye as leading light, or leading gloom, +above all others. But the observance of the rule is often so +cunningly concealed by the great composers, that its force +is hardly at first traceable; and you will generally find they +are vulgar pictures in which the law is strikingly manifest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136"></a>136</span></p> + +<p>195. This may be simply illustrated by musical melody: +for instance, in such phrases as this—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1" style="padding-bottom: 1.5em; "> + <a name="fig_mn1"><img src="images/img136a.jpg" width="600" height="123" alt="Musical notes 1." title="Musical notes 1." /></a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + + +<p class="noind">one note (here the upper <span class="sc">G</span>) rules the whole passage, and +has the full energy of it concentrated in itself. Such +passages, corresponding to completely subordinated compositions +in painting, are apt to be wearisome if often repeated. +But, in such a phrase as this—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1" style="padding-bottom: 1.5em; "> + <a name="fig_mn2"><img src="images/img136b.jpg" width="600" height="222" alt="Musical notes 2." title="Musical notes 2." /></a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + + +<p class="noind">it is very difficult to say which is the principal note. The +A in the last bar is slightly dominant, but there is a very +equal current of power running through the whole; and such +passages rarely weary. And this principle holds through +vast scales of arrangement; so that in the grandest compositions, +such as Paul Veronese's Marriage in Cana, or +Raphaels Disputa, it is not easy to fix at once on the principal +figure; and very commonly the figure which is really chief +does not catch the eye at first, but is gradually felt to be +more and more conspicuous as we gaze. Thus in Titian's +grand composition of the Cornaro Family, the figure meant +to be principal is a youth of fifteen or sixteen, whose portrait +it was evidently the painter's object to make as interesting +as possible. But a grand Madonna, and a St. George with a +drifting banner, and many figures more, occupy the center +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137"></a>137</span> +of the picture, and first catch the eye; little by little we are +led away from them to a gleam of pearly light in the lower +corner, and find that, from the head which it shines upon, +we can turn our eyes no more.</p> + +<p>196. As, in every good picture, nearly all laws of design +are more or less exemplified, it will, on the whole, be an +easier way of explaining them to analyze one composition +thoroughly, than to give instances from various works. I +shall therefore take one of Turner's simplest; which will +allow us, so to speak, easily to decompose it, and illustrate +each law by it as we proceed.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_32"><img src="images/img137.jpg" width="550" height="365" alt="Fig. 32." title="Fig. 32." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 32.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><a href="#fig_32">Fig. 32</a> is a rude sketch of the arrangement of the whole +subject; the old bridge over the Moselle at Coblentz, the +town of Coblentz on the right, Ehrenbreitstein on the left. +The leading or master feature is, of course, the tower on +the bridge. It is kept from being <i>too</i> principal by an +important group on each side of it; the boats, on the right, +and Ehrenbreitstein beyond. The boats are large in mass, +and more forcible in color, but they are broken into small +divisions, while the tower is simple, and therefore it still +leads. Ehrenbreitstein is noble in its mass, but so reduced +by aërial perspective of color that it cannot contend with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138"></a>138</span> +tower, which therefore holds the eye, and becomes the key +of the picture. We shall see presently how the very objects +which seem at first to contend with it for the mastery are +made, occultly, to increase its preëminence.</p> + + +<p class="title1">2. THE LAW OF REPETITION.</p> + +<p>197. Another important means of expressing unity is +to mark some kind of sympathy among the different objects, +and perhaps the pleasantest, because most surprising, kind of +sympathy, is when one group imitates or repeats another; +not in the way of balance or symmetry, but subordinately, +like a far-away and broken echo of it. Prout has insisted +much on this law in all his writings on composition; and I +think it is even more authoritatively present in the minds +of most great composers than the law of principality.<a name="FnAnchor_54" href="#Footnote_54"><span class="sp">[54]</span></a> It +is quite curious to see the pains that Turner sometimes takes +to echo an important passage of color; in the Pembroke +Castle for instance, there are two fishing-boats, one with a +red, and another with a white sail. In a line with them, on +the beach, are two fish in precisely the same relative positions; +one red and one white. It is observable that he uses the +artifice chiefly in pictures where he wishes to obtain an +expression of repose: in my notice of the plate of Scarborough, +in the series of the Harbors of England, I have already had +occasion to dwell on this point; and I extract in the note<a name="FnAnchor_55" href="#Footnote_55"><span class="sp">[55]</span></a> +one or two sentences which explain the principle. In the +composition I have chosen for our illustration, this reduplication +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139"></a>139</span> +is employed to a singular extent. The tower, or +leading feature, is first repeated by the low echo of it to the +left; put your finger over this lower tower, and see how the +picture is spoiled. Then the spires of Coblentz are all +arranged in couples (how they are arranged in reality does +not matter; when we are composing a great picture, we must +play the towers about till they come right, as fearlessly as if +they were chessmen instead of cathedrals). The dual arrangement +of these towers would have been too easily seen, were it +not for the little one which pretends to make a triad of the +last group on the right, but is so faint as hardly to be discernible: +it just takes off the attention from the artifice, +helped in doing so by the mast at the head of the boat, which, +however, has instantly its own duplicate put at the stern.<a name="FnAnchor_56" href="#Footnote_56"><span class="sp">[56]</span></a> +Then there is the large boat near, and its echo beyond it. +That echo is divided into two again, and each of those two +smaller boats has two figures in it; while two figures are also +sitting together on the great rudder that lies half in the +water, and half aground. Then, finally, the great mass of +Ehrenbreitstein, which appears at first to have no answering +form, has almost its <i>facsimile</i> in the bank on which the girl +is sitting; this bank is as absolutely essential to the completion +of the picture as any object in the whole series. All +this is done to deepen the effect of repose.</p> + +<p>198. Symmetry, or the balance of parts or masses in +nearly equal opposition, is one of the conditions of treatment +under the law of Repetition. For the opposition, in a symmetrical +object, is of like things reflecting each other: it is +not the balance of contrary natures (like that of day and +night), but of like natures or like forms; one side of a leaf +being set like the reflection of the other in water.</p> + +<p>Symmetry in Nature is, however, never formal nor accurate. +She takes the greatest care to secure some difference +between the corresponding things or parts of things; and an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140"></a>140</span> +approximation to accurate symmetry is only permitted in +animals, because their motions secure perpetual difference +between the balancing parts. Stand before a mirror; hold +your arms in precisely the same position at each side, your +head upright, your body straight; divide your hair exactly in +the middle and get it as nearly as you can into exactly the +same shape over each ear; and you will see the effect of accurate +symmetry: you will see, no less, how all grace and power +in the human form result from the interference of motion +and life with symmetry, and from the reconciliation of its +balance with its changefulness. Your position, as seen in +the mirror, is the highest type of symmetry as understood +by modern architects.</p> + +<p>199. In many sacred compositions, living symmetry, the +balance of harmonious opposites, is one of the profoundest +sources of their power: almost any works of the early painters, +Angelico, Perugino, Giotto, etc., will furnish you with notable +instances of it. The Madonna of Perugino in the National +Gallery, with the angel Michael on one side and Raphael on +the other, is as beautiful an example as you can have.</p> + +<p>In landscape, the principle of balance is more or less +carried out, in proportion to the wish of the painter to express +disciplined calmness. In bad compositions, as in bad architecture, +it is formal, a tree on one side answering a tree on +the other; but in good compositions, as in graceful statues, +it is always easy and sometimes hardly traceable. In the +Coblentz, however, you cannot have much difficulty in seeing +how the boats on one side of the tower and the figures on the +other are set in nearly equal balance; the tower, as a central +mass, uniting both.</p> + + +<p class="title1">3. THE LAW OF CONTINUITY.</p> + +<p>200. Another important and pleasurable way of expressing +unity, is by giving some orderly succession to a number +of objects more or less similar. And this succession is most +interesting when it is connected with some gradual change +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141"></a>141</span> +in the aspect or character of the objects. Thus the succession +of the pillars of a cathedral aisle is most interesting +when they retire in perspective, becoming more and more +obscure in distance: so the succession of mountain promontories +one behind another, on the flanks of a valley; so +the succession of clouds, fading farther and farther towards +the horizon; each promontory and each cloud being of different +shape, yet all evidently following in a calm and +appointed order. If there be no change at all in the shape +or size of the objects, there is no continuity; there is only +repetition—monotony. It is the change in shape which +suggests the idea of their being individually free, and able +to escape, if they like, from the law that rules them, and yet +submitting to it.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_33"><img src="images/img141.jpg" width="550" height="395" alt="Fig. 33." title="Fig. 33." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 33.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>201. I will leave our chosen illustrative composition for a +moment to take up another, still more expressive of this law. +It is one of Turner's most tender studies, a sketch on Calais +Sands at sunset; so delicate in the expression of wave and +cloud, that it is of no use for me to try to reach it with any +kind of outline in a wood-cut; but the rough sketch, <a href="#fig_33">Fig. 33</a>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142"></a>142</span> +is enough to give an idea of its arrangement. The aim of +the painter has been to give the intensest expression of +repose, together with the enchanted, lulling, monotonous +motion of cloud and wave. All the clouds are moving in +innumerable ranks after the sun, meeting towards that point +in the horizon where he has set; and the tidal waves gain in +winding currents upon the sand, with that stealthy haste in +which they cross each other so quietly, at their edges; just +folding one over another as they meet, like a little piece of +ruffled silk, and leaping up a little as two children kiss and +clap their hands, and then going on again, each in its silent +hurry, drawing pointed arches on the sand as their thin edges +intersect in parting. But all this would not have been enough +expressed without the line of the old pier-timbers, black +with weeds, strained and bent by the storm waves, and now +seeming to stoop in following one another, like dark ghosts +escaping slowly from the cruelty of the pursuing sea.</p> + +<p>202. I need not, I hope, point out to the reader the illustration +of this law of continuance in the subject chosen for +our general illustration. It was simply that gradual succession +of the retiring arches of the bridge which induced +Turner to paint the subject at all; and it was this same +principle which led him always to seize on subjects including +long bridges wherever he could find them; but especially, +observe, unequal bridges, having the highest arch at one side +rather than at the center. There is a reason for this, irrespective +of general laws of composition, and connected with the +nature of rivers, which I may as well stop a minute to tell +you about, and let you rest from the study of composition.</p> + +<p>203. All rivers, small or large, agree in one character, they +like to lean a little on one side: they cannot bear to have +their channels deepest in the middle, but will always, if they +can, have one bank to sun themselves upon, and another to get +cool under; one shingly shore to play over, where they may +be shallow, and foolish, and childlike, and another steep +shore, under which they can pause, and purify themselves, +and get their strength of waves fully together for due occasion. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143"></a>143</span> +Rivers in this way are just like wise men, who keep one side +of their life for play, and another for work; and can be +brilliant, and chattering, and transparent, when they are at +ease, and yet take deep counsel on the other side when they +set themselves to their main purpose. And rivers are just +in this divided, also, like wicked and good men: the good +rivers have serviceable deep places all along their banks, +that ships can sail in; but the wicked rivers go scooping +irregularly under their banks until they get full of strangling +eddies, which no boat can row over without being twisted +against the rocks; and pools like wells, which no one can +get out of but the water-kelpie that lives at the bottom; but, +wicked or good, the rivers all agree in having two kinds of +sides. Now the natural way in which a village stone-mason +therefore throws a bridge over a strong stream is, of course, +to build a great door to let the cat through, and little doors +to let the kittens through; a great arch for the great current, +to give it room in flood time, and little arches for the little +currents along the shallow shore. This, even without any +prudential respect for the floods of the great current, he would +do in simple economy of work and stone; for the smaller your +arches are, the less material you want on their flanks. Two +arches over the same span of river, supposing the butments +are at the same depth, are cheaper than one, and that by a +great deal; so that, where the current is shallow, the village +mason makes his arches many and low: as the water gets +deeper, and it becomes troublesome to build his piers up from +the bottom, he throws his arches wider; at last he comes to +the deep stream, and, as he cannot build at the bottom of +that, he throws his largest arch over it with a leap, and with +another little one or so gains the opposite shore. Of course +as arches are wider they must be higher, or they will not +stand; so the roadway must rise as the arches widen. And +thus we have the general type of bridge, with its highest and +widest arch towards one side, and a train of minor arches +running over the flat shore on the other: usually a steep bank +at the river-side next the large arch; always, of course, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144"></a>144</span> +flat shore on the side of the small ones: and the bend of the +river assuredly concave towards this flat, cutting round, with +a sweep into the steep bank; or, if there is no steep bank, +still assuredly cutting into the shore at the steep end of the +bridge.</p> + +<p>Now this kind of bridge, sympathizing, as it does, with +the spirit of the river, and marking the nature of the thing +it has to deal with and conquer, is the ideal of a bridge; +and all endeavors to do the thing in a grand engineer's +manner, with a level roadway and equal arches, are barbarous; +not only because all monotonous forms are ugly in themselves, +but because the mind perceives at once that there has +been cost uselessly thrown away for the sake of formality.<a name="FnAnchor_57" href="#Footnote_57"><span class="sp">[57]</span></a></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_34"><img src="images/img145.jpg" width="700" height="390" alt="Fig. 34." title="Fig. 34." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 34.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>204. Well, to return to our continuity. We see that the +Turnerian bridge in <a href="#fig_32">Fig. 32</a> is of the absolutely perfect +type, and is still farther interesting by having its main arch +crowned by a watch-tower. But as I want you to note +especially what perhaps was not the case in the real bridge, +but is entirely Turner's doing, you will find that though the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145"></a>145]<br />146</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146"></a></span> +arches diminish gradually, not one is <i>regularly</i> diminished—they +are all of different shapes and sizes: you cannot see this +clearly in <a href="#fig_32">Fig. 32</a>, but in the larger diagram, <a href="#fig_34">Fig. 34</a>, over +leaf, you will with ease. This is indeed also part of the ideal +of a bridge, because the lateral currents near the shore are +of course irregular in size, and a simple builder would +naturally vary his arches accordingly; and also, if the bottom +was rocky, build his piers where the rocks came. But it is +not as a part of bridge ideal, but as a necessity of all noble +composition, that this irregularity is introduced by Turner. +It at once raises the object thus treated from the lower or +vulgar unity of rigid law to the greater unity of clouds, +and waves, and trees, and human souls, each different, each +obedient, and each in harmonious service.</p> + + +<p class="title1">4. THE LAW OF CURVATURE.</p> + +<p>205. There is, however, another point to be noticed in this +bridge of Turner's. Not only does it slope away unequally +at its sides, but it slopes in a gradual though very subtle +curve. And if you substitute a straight line for this curve +(drawing one with a rule from the base of the tower on each +side to the ends of the bridge, in <a href="#fig_34">Fig. 34</a>, and effacing the +curve), you will instantly see that the design has suffered +grievously. You may ascertain, by experiment, that all +beautiful objects whatsoever are thus terminated by delicately +curved lines, except where the straight line is indispensable +to their use or stability; and that when a complete +system of straight lines, throughout the form, is necessary +to that stability, as in crystals, the beauty, if any exists, +is in color and transparency, not in form. Cut out the shape +of any crystal you like, in white wax or wood, and put it +beside a white lily, and you will feel the force of the curvature +in its purity, irrespective of added color, or other interfering +elements of beauty.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_35"><img src="images/img147.jpg" width="600" height="476" alt="Fig. 35." title="Fig. 35." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 35.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>206. Well, as curves are more beautiful than straight lines, +it is necessary to a good composition that its continuities of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147"></a>147</span> +object, mass, or color should be, if possible, in curves, rather +than straight lines or angular ones. Perhaps one of the +simplest and prettiest examples of a graceful continuity of +this kind is in the line traced at any moment by the corks +of a net as it is being drawn: nearly every person is more +or less attracted by the beauty of the dotted line. Now, it +is almost always possible, not only to secure such a continuity +in the arrangement or boundaries of objects which, like these +bridge arches or the corks of the net, are actually connected +with each other, but—and this is a still more noble and interesting +kind of continuity—among features which appear at +first entirely separate. Thus the towers of Ehrenbreitstein, +on the left, in <a href="#fig_32">Fig. 32</a>, appear at first independent of each +other; but when I give their profile, on a larger scale, <a href="#fig_35">Fig. +35</a>, the reader may easily perceive that there is a subtle +cadence and harmony among them. The reason of this is, +that they are all bounded by one grand curve, traced by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148"></a>148</span> +dotted line; out of the seven towers, four precisely touch +this curve, the others only falling hack from it here and there +to keep the eye from discovering it too easily.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_36"><img src="images/img148.jpg" width="500" height="129" alt="Fig. 36." title="Fig. 36." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 36.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>207. And it is not only always possible to obtain continuities +of this kind: it is, in drawing large forests or +mountain forms, essential to truth. The towers of Ehrenbreitstein +might or might not in reality fall into such a +curve, but assuredly the basalt rock on which they stand did; +for all mountain forms not cloven into absolute precipice, +nor covered by straight slopes of shales, are more or less +governed by these great curves, it being one of the aims of +Nature in all her work to produce them. The reader must +already know this, if he has been able to sketch at all among +mountains; if not, let him merely draw for himself, carefully, +the outlines of any low hills accessible to him, where +they are tolerably steep, or of the woods which grow on them. +The steeper shore of the Thames at Maidenhead, or any of +the downs at Brighton or Dover, or, even nearer, about Croydon +(as Addington Hills), is easily accessible to a Londoner; +and he will soon find not only how constant, but how +graceful the curvature is. Graceful curvature is distinguished +from ungraceful by two characters; first in its moderation, +that is to say, its close approach to straightness in some part +of its course;<a name="FnAnchor_58" href="#Footnote_58"><span class="sp">[58]</span></a> and, secondly, by its variation, that is to say, +its never remaining equal in degree at different parts of its +course.</p> + +<p>208. This variation is itself twofold in all good curves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page149"></a>149</span></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_37"><img src="images/img149a.jpg" width="300" height="115" alt="Fig. 37." title="Fig. 37." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 37.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>A. There is, first, a steady change through the whole line, +from less to more curvature, or more to less, so that <i>no</i> part +of the line is a segment of a circle, or can be drawn by compasses +in any way whatever. Thus, in <a href="#fig_36">Fig. 36</a>, <i>a</i> is a bad +curve because it is part of a circle, and is therefore monotonous +throughout; but <i>b</i> is a good curve, because it continually +changes its direction as it proceeds.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_38"><img src="images/img149b.jpg" width="400" height="490" alt="Fig. 38." title="Fig. 38." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 38.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>The <i>first</i> difference between good and bad drawing of tree +boughs consists in observance of this fact. Thus, when I put +leaves on the line <i>b</i>, as in <a href="#fig_37">Fig. 37</a>, you can immediately feel +the springiness of character dependent on the changefulness +of the curve. You may put leaves on the other line for +yourself, but you will find you cannot make a right tree +spray of it. For <i>all</i> tree boughs, large or small, as well as +all noble natural lines whatsoever, agree in this character; +and it is a point of primal necessity that your eye should +always seize and your hand trace it. Here are two more +portions of good curves, with leaves put on them at the extremities +instead of the flanks, <a href="#fig_38">Fig. 38</a>; and two showing the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150"></a>150</span> +arrangement of masses of foliage seen a little farther off, +<a href="#fig_39">Fig. 39</a>, which you may in like manner amuse yourself by +turning into segments of circles—you will +see with what result. I hope however you +have beside you, by this time, many good +studies of tree boughs carefully made, in +which you may study variations of curvature +in their most complicated and lovely +forms.<a name="FnAnchor_59" href="#Footnote_59"><span class="sp">[59]</span></a></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_39"><img src="images/img150a.jpg" width="300" height="235" alt="Fig. 39." title="Fig. 39." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 39.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figleft1"> + <a name="fig_40"><img src="images/img150b.jpg" width="117" height="400" alt="Fig. 40." title="Fig. 40." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 40.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>209. B. Not only does every good curve +vary in general tendency, but it is modulated, +as it proceeds, by myriads of subordinate +curves. Thus the outlines of a tree +trunk are never as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_40">Fig. 40</a>, but as at +<i>b</i>. So also in waves, clouds, and all other +nobly formed masses. Thus another essential +difference between good and bad drawing, +or good and bad sculpture, depends on +the quantity and refinement of minor +curvatures carried, by good work, into the +great lines. Strictly speaking, however, +this is not variation in large curves, but +composition of large curves out of small +ones; it is an increase in the quantity of the +beautiful element, but not a change in its nature.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page151"></a>151</span></p> + +<p class="title1">5. THE LAW OF RADIATION.</p> + +<p>210. We have hitherto been concerned only with the binding +of our various objects into beautiful lines or processions. +The next point we have to consider is, how we may unite +these lines or processions themselves, so as to make groups of +<i>them</i>.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_41"><img src="images/img152a.jpg" width="250" height="355" alt="Fig. 41." title="Fig. 41." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 41.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figleft1"> + <a name="fig_42"><img src="images/img152b.jpg" width="120" height="295" alt="Fig. 42." title="Fig. 42." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 42.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Now, there are two kinds of harmonies of lines. One in +which, moving more or less side by side, they variously, but +evidently with consent, retire from or approach each other, +intersect or oppose each other; currents of melody in music, +for different voices, thus approach and cross, fall and rise, in +harmony; so the waves of the sea, as they approach the +shore, flow into one another or cross, but with a great unity +through all; and so various lines of composition often flow +harmoniously through and across each other in a picture. +But the most simple and perfect connection of lines is by +radiation; that is, by their all springing from one point, or +closing towards it; and this harmony is often, in Nature +almost always, united with the other; as the boughs of trees, +though they intersect and play amongst each other irregularly, +indicate by their general tendency their origin from +one root. An essential part of the beauty of all vegetable +form is in this radiation; it is seen most simply in a single +flower or leaf, as in a convolvulus bell, or chestnut leaf; but +more beautifully in the complicated arrangements of the +large boughs and sprays. For a leaf is only a flat piece of +radiation; but the tree throws its branches on all sides, and +even in every profile view of it, which presents a radiation +more or less correspondent to that of its leaves, it is more +beautiful, because varied by the freedom of the separate +branches. I believe it has been ascertained that, in all trees, +the angle at which, in their leaves, the lateral ribs are set on +their central rib is approximately the same at which the +branches leave the great stem; and thus each section of the +tree would present a kind of magnified view of its own leaf, +were it not for the interfering force of gravity on the masses +of foliage. This force in proportion to their age, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152"></a>152</span> +lateral leverage upon them, bears them downwards at the +extremities, so that, as before noticed, the lower the bough +grows on the stem, the more it droops (<a href="#fig_17">Fig. 17</a>, <a href="#page067">p. 67</a>); +besides this, nearly all beautiful trees have a tendency to +divide into two or more principal masses, which give a +prettier and more complicated symmetry than if one stem +ran all the way up the center. <a href="#fig_41">Fig. 41</a> may thus be considered +the simplest type of tree radiation, as opposed to +leaf radiation. In this figure, however, all secondary ramification +is unrepresented, for the sake of simplicity; but +if we take one half of such a tree, and merely give two +secondary branches to each main branch (as represented +in the general branch structure shown at <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_18">Fig. 18</a>, <a href="#page068">p. +68</a>), we shall have the form <a href="#fig_42">Fig. 42</a>. This I consider +the perfect general type of tree structure; and it is curiously +connected with certain forms of Greek, Byzantine, +and Gothic ornamentation, into the discussion of which, +however, we must not enter here. It will be +observed, that both in Figs. <a href="#fig_41">41</a> and <a href="#fig_42">42</a> all +the branches so spring from the main stem as +very nearly to suggest their united radiation +from the root <span class="sc">R</span>. This is by no means universally +the case; but if the branches do not bend +towards a point in the root, they at least converge +to some point or other. In the examples in <a href="#fig_43">Fig. +43</a>, the mathematical center of curvature, <i>a</i>, is +thus, in one case, on the ground, at some distance from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153"></a>153</span> +root, and in the other, near the top of the tree. Half, only, +of each tree is given, for the sake of clearness: <a href="#fig_44">Fig. 44</a> gives +both sides of another example, in which the origins of curvature +are below the root. As the positions of such points may +be varied without end, and as the arrangement of the lines +is also farther complicated by the fact of the boughs springing +for the most part in a spiral order round the tree, and at +proportionate distances, the systems of curvature which +regulate the form of vegetation are quite infinite. Infinite +is a word easily said, and easily written, and people do not +always mean it when they say it; in this case I <i>do</i> mean it: +the number of systems is incalculable, and even to furnish +anything like a representative number of types, I should +have to give several hundreds of figures such as <a href="#fig_44">Fig. 44</a>.<a name="FnAnchor_60" href="#Footnote_60"><span class="sp">[60]</span></a></p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_43"><img src="images/img153a.jpg" width="300" height="210" alt="Fig. 43." title="Fig. 43." /></a></td> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_44"><img src="images/img153b.jpg" width="111" height="400" alt="Fig. 44." title="Fig. 44." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 43.</span></td> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 44.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_45"><img src="images/img154.jpg" width="400" height="144" alt="Fig. 45." title="Fig. 45." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 45.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>211. Thus far, however, we have only been speaking of the +great relations of stem and branches. The forms of the +branches themselves are regulated by still more subtle laws, +for they occupy an intermediate position between the form of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154"></a>154</span> +the tree and of the leaf. The leaf has a flat ramification; the +tree a completely rounded one; the bough is neither rounded +nor flat, but has a structure exactly balanced between the +two, in a half-flattened, half-rounded flake, closely resembling +in shape one of the thick leaves of an artichoke or the +flake of a fir cone; by combination forming the solid mass of +the tree, as the leaves compose the artichoke head. I have +before pointed out to you the general resemblance of these +branch flakes to an extended hand; but they may be more +accurately represented by the ribs of a boat. If you can +imagine a very broad-headed and flattened boat applied by +its keel to the end of a main branch,<a name="FnAnchor_61" href="#Footnote_61"><span class="sp">[61]</span></a> as in <a href="#fig_45">Fig. 45</a>, the lines +which its ribs will take, supposing them outside of its timbers +instead of inside, and the general contour of it, as seen +in different directions, from above and below, will give you +the closest approximation to the perspectives and foreshortenings +of a well-grown branch-flake. <a href="#fig_25">Fig. 25</a> above, <a href="#page089">p. 89</a>, +is an unharmed and unrestrained shoot of healthy young +oak; and, if you compare it with <a href="#fig_45">Fig. 45</a>, you will understand +at once the action of the lines of leafage; the boat only +failing as a type in that its ribs are too nearly parallel to +each other at the sides, while the bough sends all its ramification +well forwards, rounding to the head, that it may accomplish +its part in the outer form of the whole tree, yet always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155"></a>155</span> +securing the compliance with the great universal law that +the branches nearest the root bend most back; and, of course, +throwing <i>some</i> always back as well as forwards; the appearance +of reversed action being much increased, and rendered +more striking and beautiful, by perspective. <a href="#fig_25">Fig. 25</a> shows +the perspective of such a bough as it is seen from below; +<a href="#fig_46">Fig. 46</a> gives rudely the look it would have from above.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_46"><img src="images/img155.jpg" width="400" height="198" alt="Fig. 46." title="Fig. 46." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 46.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>212. You may suppose, if you have not already discovered, +what subtleties of perspective and light and shade are involved +in the drawing of these branch-flakes, as you see them +in different directions and actions; now raised, now depressed: +touched on the edges by the wind, or lifted up and +bent back so as to show all the white under surfaces of the +leaves shivering in light, as the bottom of a boat rises white +with spray at the surge-crest; or drooping in quietness towards +the dew of the grass beneath them in windless mornings, +or bowed down under oppressive grace of deep-charged +snow. Snow time, by the way, is one of the best for practice +in the placing of tree masses; but you will only be able to +understand them thoroughly by beginning with a single bough +and a few leaves placed tolerably even, as in <a href="#fig_38">Fig. 38</a>, <a href="#page149">p. 149</a>. +First one with three leaves, a central and two lateral ones, as +at <i>a</i>; then with five, as at <i>b</i>, and so on; directing your whole +attention to the expression, both by contour and light and +shade, of the boat-like arrangements, which, in your earlier +studies, will have been a good deal confused, partly owing +to your inexperience, and partly to the depth of shade, or +absolute blackness of mass required in those studies.</p> + +<p>213. One thing more remains to be noted, and I will let +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156"></a>156</span> +you out of the wood. You see that in every generally representative +figure I have surrounded the radiating branches +with a dotted line: such lines do indeed terminate every vegetable +form; and you see that they are themselves beautiful +curves, which, according to their flow, and the width or narrowness +of the spaces they inclose, characterize the species +of tree or leaf, and express its free or formal action, its grace +of youth or weight of age. So that, throughout all the +freedom of her wildest foliage, Nature is resolved on expressing +an encompassing limit; and marking a unity in the +whole tree, caused not only by the rising of its branches from +a common root, but by their joining in one work, and being +bound by a common law. And having ascertained this, let +us turn back for a moment to a point in leaf structure which, +I doubt not, you must already have observed in your earlier +studies, but which it is well to state here, as connected with +the unity of the branches in the great trees. You must have +noticed, I should think, that whenever a leaf is compound,—that +is to say, divided into other leaflets which in any way +repeat or imitate the form of the whole leaf,—those leaflets +are not symmetrical, as the whole leaf is, but always smaller +on the side towards the point of the great leaf, so as to express +their subordination to it, and show, even when they +are pulled off, that they are not small independent leaves, +but members of one large leaf.</p> + +<p>214. <a href="#fig_47">Fig. 47</a>, which is a block-plan of a leaf of columbine, +without its minor divisions on the edges, will illustrate +the principle clearly. It is composed of a central large mass, +A, and two lateral ones, of which the one on the right only is +lettered, B. Each of these masses is again composed of three +others, a central and two lateral ones; but observe, the minor +one, <i>a</i> of A, is balanced equally by its opposite; but the minor +<i>b</i> 1 of B is larger than its opposite <i>b</i> 2. Again, each of +these minor masses is divided into three; but while the central +mass, <span class="sc">A</span> of A, is symmetrically divided, the <span class="sc">B</span> of B is unsymmetrical, +its largest side-lobe being lowest. Again, in <i>b</i> 2, the +lobe <i>c</i> 1 (its lowest lobe in relation to <span class="sc">B</span>) is larger than <i>c</i> 2; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157"></a>157</span> +and so also in <i>b</i> 1. So that universally one lobe of a lateral +leaf is always larger than the other, and the smaller lobe is +that which is nearer the central mass; the lower leaf, as it +were by courtesy, subduing some of its own dignity or power, +in the immediate presence of the greater or captain leaf, and +always expressing, therefore, its own subordination and +secondary character. This law is carried out even in single +leaves. As far as I know, the upper half, towards the point +of the spray, is always the smaller; and a slightly different +curve, more convex at the springing, is used for the lower +side, giving an exquisite variety to the form of the whole +leaf; so that one of the chief elements in the beauty of every +subordinate leaf throughout the tree is made to depend on its +confession of its own lowliness and subjection.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_47"><img src="images/img157.jpg" width="500" height="493" alt="Fig. 47." title="Fig. 47." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 47.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>215. And now, if we bring together in one view the principles +we have ascertained in trees, we shall find they may +be summed under four great laws; and that all perfect<a name="FnAnchor_62" href="#Footnote_62"><span class="sp">[62]</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158"></a>158</span> +vegetable form is appointed to express these four laws in +noble balance of authority.</p> + +<p>1. Support from one living root.</p> + +<p>2. Radiation, or tendency of force from some one given +point, either in the root or in some stated connection with it.</p> + +<p>3. Liberty of each bough to seek its own livelihood and +happiness according to its needs, by irregularities of action +both in its play and its work, either stretching out to get its +required nourishment from light and rain, by finding some +sufficient breathing-place among the other branches, or knotting +and gathering itself up to get strength for any load +which its fruitful blossoms may lay upon it, and for any +stress of its storm-tossed luxuriance of leaves; or playing +hither and thither as the fitful sunshine may tempt its young +shoots, in their undecided states of mind about their future +life.</p> + +<p>4. Imperative requirement of each bough to stop within +certain limits, expressive of its kindly fellowship and fraternity +with the boughs in its neighborhood; and to work with +them according to its power, magnitude, and state of health, +to bring out the general perfectness of the great curve, and +circumferent stateliness of the whole tree.</p> + +<p>216. I think I may leave you, unhelped, to work out the +moral analogies of these laws; you may, perhaps, however, be +a little puzzled to see the meaning of the second one. It +typically expresses that healthy human actions should spring +radiantly (like rays) from some single heart motive; the +most beautiful systems of action taking place when this +motive lies at the root of the whole life, and the action is +clearly seen to proceed from it; while also many beautiful +secondary systems of action taking place from motives not +so deep or central, but in some beautiful subordinate connection +with the central or life motive.</p> + +<p>The other laws, if you think over them, you will find +equally significative; and as you draw trees more and more in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159"></a>159</span> +their various states of health and hardship, you will be +every day more struck by the beauty of the types they present +of the truths most essential for mankind to know;<a name="FnAnchor_63" href="#Footnote_63"><span class="sp">[63]</span></a> and you +will see what this vegetation of the earth, which is necessary +to our life, first, as purifying the air for us and then as food, +and just as necessary to our joy in all places of the earth,—what +these trees and leaves, I say, are meant to teach us as +we contemplate them, and read or hear their lovely language, +written or spoken for us, not in frightful black letters nor in +dull sentences, but in fair green and shadowy shapes of waving +words, and blossomed brightness of odoriferous wit, and +sweet whispers of unintrusive wisdom, and playful morality.</p> + +<p>217. Well, I am sorry myself to leave the wood, whatever +my reader may be; but leave it we must, or we shall compose +no more pictures to-day.</p> + +<p>This law of radiation, then, enforcing unison of action +in arising from, or proceeding to, some given point, is perhaps, +of all principles of composition, the most influential in +producing the beauty of groups of form. Other laws make +them forcible or interesting, but this generally is chief in +rendering them beautiful. In the arrangement of masses +in pictures, it is constantly obeyed by the great composers; +but, like the law of principality, with careful concealment +of its imperativeness, the point to which the lines of main +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160"></a>160</span> +curvature are directed being very often far away out of the +picture. Sometimes, however, a system of curves will be +employed definitely to exalt, by their concurrence, the value +of some leading object, and then the law becomes traceable +enough.</p> + +<p>218. In the instance before us, the principal object being, +as we have seen, the tower on the bridge, Turner has determined +that his system of curvature should have its origin in +the top of this tower. The diagram <a href="#fig_34">Fig. 34</a>, <a href="#page145">p. 145</a>, compared +with <a href="#fig_32">Fig. 32</a>, <a href="#page137">p. 137</a>, will show how this is done. One +curve joins the two towers, and is continued by the back of +the figure sitting on the bank into the piece of bent timber. +This is a limiting curve of great importance, and Turner +has drawn a considerable part of it with the edge of the timber +very carefully, and then led the eye up to the sitting girl by +some white spots and indications of a ledge in the bank; +then the passage to the tops of the towers cannot be missed.</p> + +<p>219. The next curve is begun and drawn carefully for half +an inch of its course by the rudder; it is then taken up by +the basket and the heads of the figures, and leads accurately +to the tower angle. The gunwales of both the boats begin +the next two curves, which meet in the same point; and all +are centralized by the long reflection which continues the +vertical lines.</p> + +<p>220. Subordinated to this first system of curves there is +another, begun by the small crossing bar of wood inserted in +the angle behind the rudder; continued by the bottom of the +bank on which the figure sits, interrupted forcibly beyond it,<a name="FnAnchor_64" href="#Footnote_64"><span class="sp">[64]</span></a> +but taken up again by the water-line leading to the bridge foot, +and passing on in delicate shadows under the arches, not +easily shown in so rude a diagram, towards the other extremity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161"></a>161</span> +of the bridge. This is a most important curve, indicating +that the force and sweep of the river have indeed +been in old times under the large arches; while the antiquity +of the bridge is told us by a long tongue of land, either +of carted rubbish, or washed down by some minor stream, +which has interrupted this curve, and is now used as a landing-place +for the boats, and for embarkation of merchandise, +of which some bales and bundles are laid in a heap, +immediately beneath the great tower. A common composer +would have put these bales to one side or the other, but +Turner knows better; he uses them as a foundation for his +tower, adding to its importance precisely as the sculptured +base adorns a pillar; and he farther increases the aspect of +its height by throwing the reflection of it far down in the +nearer water. All the great composers have this same feeling +about sustaining their vertical masses: you will constantly +find Prout using the artifice most dexterously (see, +for instance, the figure with the wheelbarrow under the +great tower, in the sketch of St. Nicholas, at Prague, and the +white group of figures under the tower in the sketch of +Augsburg<a name="FnAnchor_65" href="#Footnote_65"><span class="sp">[65]</span></a>); and Veronese, Titian, and Tintoret continually +put their principal figures at bases of pillars. Turner found +out their secret very early, the most prominent instance of +his composition on this principle being the drawing of Turin +from the Superga, in Hakewell's Italy. I chose <a href="#fig_20">Fig. 20</a>, +already given to illustrate foliage drawing, chiefly because, +being another instance of precisely the same arrangement, it +will serve to convince you of its being intentional. There, the +vertical, formed by the larger tree, is continued by the figure +of the farmer, and that of one of the smaller trees by his stick. +The lines of the interior mass of the bushes radiate, under the +law of radiation, from a point behind the farmer's head; but +their outline curves are carried on and repeated, under the +law of continuity, by the curves of the dog and boy—by +the way, note the remarkable instance in these of the use of +darkest lines towards the light—all more or less guiding the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162"></a>162</span> +eye up to the right, in order to bring it finally to the Keep +of Windsor, which is the central object of the picture, as the +bridge tower is in the Coblentz. The wall on which the boy +climbs answers the purpose of contrasting, both in direction +and character, with these greater curves; thus corresponding +as nearly as possible to the minor tongue of land in the +Coblentz. This, however, introduces us to another law, which +we must consider separately.</p> + + +<p class="title1">6. THE LAW OF CONTRAST.</p> + +<p>221. Of course the character of everything is best manifested +by Contrast. Rest can only be enjoyed after labor; +sound to be heard clearly, must rise out of silence; light is +exhibited by darkness, darkness by light; and so on in all +things. Now in art every color has an opponent color, which, +if brought near it, will relieve it more completely than any +other; so, also, every form and line may be made more striking +to the eye by an opponent form or line near them; a curved +line is set off by a straight one, a massy form by a slight one, +and so on; and in all good work nearly double the value, +which any given color or form would have uncombined, is +given to each by contrast.<a name="FnAnchor_66" href="#Footnote_66"><span class="sp">[66]</span></a></p> + +<p>In this case again, however, a too manifest use of the artifice +vulgarizes a picture. Great painters do not commonly, +or very visibly, admit violent contrast. They introduce it +by stealth, and with intermediate links of tender change; +allowing, indeed, the opposition to tell upon the mind as a +surprise, but not as a shock.<a name="FnAnchor_67" href="#Footnote_67"><span class="sp">[67]</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page163"></a>163</span></p> + +<p>222. Thus in the rock of Ehrenbreitstein, <a href="#fig_35">Fig. 35</a>, the +main current of the lines being downwards, in a convex +swell, they are suddenly stopped at the lowest tower by a +counter series of beds, directed nearly straight across them. +This adverse force sets off and relieves the great curvature, +but it is reconciled to it by a series of radiating lines below, +which at first sympathize with the oblique bar, then gradually +get steeper, till they meet and join in the fall of the great +curve. No passage, however intentionally monotonous, is +ever introduced by a good artist without <i>some</i> slight counter +current of this kind; so much, indeed, do the great composers +feel the necessity of it, that they will even do things purposely +ill or unsatisfactorily, in order to give greater value to their +well-doing in other places. In a skillful poet's versification +the so-called bad or inferior lines are not inferior because he +could not do them better, but because he feels that if all were +equally weighty, there would be no real sense of weight anywhere; +if all were equally melodious, the melody itself would +be fatiguing; and he purposely introduces the laboring or +discordant verse, that the full ring may be felt in his main +sentence, and the finished sweetness in his chosen rhythm.<a name="FnAnchor_68" href="#Footnote_68"><span class="sp">[68]</span></a> +And continually in painting, inferior artists destroy their +work by giving too much of all that they think is good, while +the great painter gives just enough to be enjoyed, and passes +to an opposite kind of enjoyment, or to an inferior state of +enjoyment: he gives a passage of rich, involved, exquisitely +wrought color, then passes away into slight, and pale, and +simple color; he paints for a minute or two with intense +decision, then suddenly becomes, as the spectator thinks, +slovenly; but he is not slovenly: you could not have <i>taken</i> +any more decision from him just then; you have had as much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164"></a>164</span> +as is good for you: he paints over a great space of his picture +forms of the most rounded and melting tenderness, and suddenly, +as you think by a freak, gives you a bit as jagged and +sharp as a leafless blackthorn. Perhaps the most exquisite +piece of subtle contrast in the world of painting is the arrow +point, laid sharp against the white side and among the flowing +hair of Correggio's Antiope. It is quite singular how very +little contrast will sometimes serve to make an entire group +of forms interesting which would otherwise have been valueless. +There is a good deal of picturesque material, for instance, +in this top of an old tower, <a href="#fig_48">Fig. 48</a>, tiles and stones +and sloping roof not disagreeably mingled; but all would +have been unsatisfactory if there had not happened to be +that iron ring on the inner wall, which by its vigorous black +<i>circular</i> line precisely opposes all the square and angular +characters of the battlements and roof. Draw the tower +without the ring, and see what a difference it will make.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <a name="fig_48"><img src="images/img164.jpg" width="600" height="367" alt="Fig. 48." title="Fig. 48." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 48.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>223. One of the most important applications of the law of +contrast is in association with the law of continuity, causing +an unexpected but gentle break in a continuous series. This +artifice is perpetual in music, and perpetual also in good +illumination; the way in which little surprises of change +are prepared in any current borders, or chains of ornamental +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165"></a>165</span> +design, being one of the most subtle characteristics of +the work of the good periods. We take, for instance, a bar +of ornament between two written columns of an early fourteenth +century MS., and at the first glance we suppose it to +be quite monotonous all the way up, composed of a winding +tendril, with alternately a blue leaf and a scarlet bud. Presently, +however, we see that, in order to observe the law of +principality, there is one large scarlet leaf instead of a bud, +nearly half-way up, which forms a center to the whole rod; +and when we begin to examine the order of the leaves, we +find it varied carefully. Let <span class="sc">A</span> stand for scarlet bud, <i>b</i> for +blue leaf, <i>c</i> for two blue leaves on one stalk, <i>s</i> for a stalk +without a leaf, and <span class="sc">R</span>, for the large red leaf. Then, counting +from the ground, the order begins as follows:</p> + +<p><i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>, <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; and we think we shall +have two <i>b</i>'s and an <span class="sc">A</span> all the way, when suddenly it becomes +<i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">R</span>; <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; and we think we are going to +have <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span> continued; but no: here it becomes <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>; <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>; <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, +<i>s</i>; <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>; <i>c</i>, <i>s</i>; <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>; <i>b</i>, <i>s</i>; and we think we are surely going to +have <i>b</i>, <i>s</i> continued, but behold it runs away to the end with +a quick <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <span class="sc">A</span>; <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>!<a name="FnAnchor_69" href="#Footnote_69"><span class="sp">[69]</span></a> Very often, however, the designer +is satisfied with <i>one</i> surprise, but I never saw a good +illuminated border without one at least; and no series of any +kind was ever introduced by a great composer in a painting +without a snap somewhere. There is a pretty one in Turner's +drawing of Rome with the large balustrade for a foreground +in the Hakewell's Italy series: the single baluster +struck out of the line, and showing the street below through +the gap, simply makes the whole composition right, when +otherwise it would have been stiff and absurd.</p> + +<p>224. If you look back to <a href="#fig_48">Fig. 48</a> you will see, in the arrangement +of the battlements, a simple instance of the use +of such variation. The whole top of the tower, though actually +three sides of a square, strikes the eye as a continuous +series of five masses. The first two, on the left, somewhat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166"></a>166</span> +square and blank, then the next two higher and richer, the +tiles being seen on their slopes. Both these groups being +couples, there is enough monotony in the series to make a +change pleasant; and the last battlement, therefore, is a little +higher than the first two,—a little lower than the second two,—and +different in shape from either. Hide it with your +finger, and see how ugly and formal the other four battlements +look.</p> + +<p>225. There are in this figure several other simple illustrations +of the laws we have been tracing. Thus the whole +shape of the walls' mass being square, it is well, still for the +sake of contrast, to oppose it not only by the element of curvature, +in the ring, and lines of the roof below, but by that of +sharpness; hence the pleasure which the eye takes in the +projecting point of the roof. Also, because the walls are +thick and sturdy, it is well to contrast their strength with +weakness; therefore we enjoy the evident decrepitude of this +roof as it sinks between them. The whole mass being nearly +white, we want a contrasting shadow somewhere; and get it, +under our piece of decrepitude. This shade, with the tiles of +the wall below, forms another pointed mass, necessary to the +first by the law of repetition. Hide this inferior angle with +your finger, and see how ugly the other looks. A sense of the +law of symmetry, though you might hardly suppose it, has +some share in the feeling with which you look at the battlements; +there is a certain pleasure in the opposed slopes of +their top, on one side down to the left, on the other to the +right. Still less would you think the law of radiation had +anything to do with the matter: but if you take the extreme +point of the black shadow on the left for a center, and follow +first the low curve of the eaves of the wall, it will lead you, +if you continue it, to the point of the tower cornice; follow +the second curve, the top of the tiles of the wall, and it will +strike the top of the right-hand battlement; then draw a +curve from the highest point of the angled battlement on the +left, through the points of the roof and its dark echo; and you +will see how the whole top of the tower radiates from this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167"></a>167</span> +lowest dark point. There are other curvatures crossing these +main ones, to keep them from being too conspicuous. Follow +the curve of the upper roof, it will take you to the top of the +highest battlement; and the stones indicated at the right-hand +side of the tower are more extended at the bottom, in order to +get some less direct expression of sympathy, such as irregular +stones may be capable of, with the general flow of the curves +from left to right.</p> + +<p>226. You may not readily believe, at first, that all these +laws are indeed involved in so trifling a piece of composition. +But, as you study longer, you will discover that these laws, +and many more, are obeyed by the powerful composers in +every <i>touch</i>: that literally, there is never a dash of their pencil +which is not carrying out appointed purposes of this kind +in twenty various ways at once; and that there is as much +difference, in way of intention and authority, between one of +the great composers ruling his colors, and a common painter +confused by them, as there is between a general directing +the march of an army, and an old lady carried off her feet +by a mob.</p> + + +<p class="title1">7. THE LAW OF INTERCHANGE.</p> + +<p>227. Closely connected with the law of contrast is a law +which enforces the unity of opposite things, by giving to each +a portion of the character of the other. If, for instance, you +divide a shield into two masses of color, all the way down—suppose +blue and white, and put a bar, or figure of an animal, +partly on one division, partly on the other, you will find it +pleasant to the eye if you make the part of the animal blue +which comes upon the white half, and white which comes +upon the blue half. This is done in heraldry, partly for the +sake of perfect intelligibility, but yet more for the sake of +delight in interchange of color, since, in all ornamentation +whatever, the practice is continual, in the ages of good +design.</p> + +<p>228. Sometimes this alternation is merely a reversal of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168"></a>168</span> +contrasts; as that, after red has been for some time on one +side, and blue on the other, red shall pass to blue's side and +blue to red's. This kind of alternation takes place simply +in four-quartered shields; in more subtle pieces of treatment, +a little bit only of each color is carried into the other, and +they are as it were dovetailed together. One of the most +curious facts which will impress itself upon you, when you +have drawn some time carefully from Nature in light and +shade, is the appearance of intentional artifice with which +contrasts of this alternate kind are produced by her; the +artistry with which she will darken a tree trunk as long as it +comes against light sky, and throw sunlight on it precisely +at the spot where it comes against a dark hill, and similarly +treat all her masses of shade and color, is so great, that if you +only follow her closely, every one who looks at your drawing +with attention will think that you have been inventing the +most artificially and unnaturally delightful interchanges of +shadow that could possibly be devised by human wit.</p> + +<p>229. You will find this law of interchange insisted upon at +length by Prout in his Lessons on Light and Shade: it seems +of all his principles of composition to be the one he is most +conscious of; many others he obeys by instinct, but this he +formally accepts and forcibly declares.</p> + +<p>The typical purpose of the law of interchange is, of +course, to teach us how opposite natures may be helped and +strengthened by receiving each, as far as they can, some +impress or reflection, or imparted power, from the other.</p> + + +<p class="title1">8. THE LAW OF CONSISTENCY.</p> + +<p>230. It is to be remembered, in the next place, that while +contrast exhibits the <i>characters</i> of things, it very often +neutralizes or paralyzes their <i>power</i>. A number of white +things may be shown to be clearly white by opposition of a +black thing, but if we want the full power of their gathered +light, the black thing may be seriously in our way. Thus, +while contrast displays things, it is unity and sympathy which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169"></a>169</span> +employ them, concentrating the power of several into a mass. +And, not in art merely, but in all the affairs of life, the +wisdom of man is continually called upon to reconcile these +opposite methods of exhibiting, or using, the materials in his +power. By change he gives them pleasantness, and by consistency +value; by change he is refreshed, and by perseverance +strengthened.</p> + +<p>231. Hence many compositions address themselves to the +spectator by aggregate force of color or line, more than by +contrasts of either; many noble pictures are painted almost +exclusively in various tones of red, or gray, or gold, so as to +be instantly striking by their breadth of flush, or glow, or +tender coldness, these qualities being exhibited only by +slight and subtle use of contrast. Similarly as to form; some +compositions associate massive and rugged forms, others +slight and graceful ones, each with few interruptions by lines +of contrary character. And, in general, such compositions +possess higher sublimity than those which are more mingled +in their elements. They tell a special tale, and summon a +definite state of feeling, while the grand compositions merely +please the eye.</p> + +<p>232. This unity or breadth of character generally attaches +most to the works of the greatest men; their separate pictures +have all separate aims. We have not, in each, gray +color set against somber, and sharp forms against soft, and +loud passages against low: but we have the bright picture, +with its delicate sadness; the somber picture, with its single +ray of relief; the stern picture, with only one tender group +of lines; the soft and calm picture, with only one rock angle +at its flank; and so on. Hence the variety of their work, +as well as its impressiveness. The principal bearing of this +law, however, is on the separate masses or divisions of a +picture: the character of the whole composition may be +broken or various, if we please, but there must certainly be +a tendency to consistent assemblage in its divisions. As an +army may act on several points at once, but can only act +effectually by having somewhere formed and regular masses, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170"></a>170</span> +and not wholly by skirmishers; so a picture may be various +in its tendencies, but must be somewhere united and coherent +in its masses. Good composers are always associating their +colors in great groups; binding their forms together by encompassing +lines, and securing, by various dexterities of expedient, +what they themselves call "breadth:" that is to say, a +large gathering of each kind of thing into one place; light +being gathered to light, darkness to darkness, and color to +color. If, however, this be done by introducing false lights or +false colors, it is absurd and monstrous; the skill of a painter +consists in obtaining breadth by rational arrangement of his +objects, not by forced or wanton treatment of them. It is an +easy matter to paint one thing all white, and another all +black or brown; but not an easy matter to assemble all the +circumstances which will naturally produce white in one +place, and brown in another. Generally speaking, however, +breadth will result in sufficient degree from fidelity of study: +Nature is always broad; and if you paint her colors in true +relations, you will paint them in majestic masses. If you +find your work look broken and scattered, it is, in all probability, +not only ill composed, but untrue.</p> + +<p>233. The opposite quality to breadth, that of division or +scattering of light and color, has a certain contrasting charm, +and is occasionally introduced with exquisite effect by good +composers.<a name="FnAnchor_70" href="#Footnote_70"><span class="sp">[70]</span></a> Still it is never the mere scattering, but the +order discernible through this scattering, which is the real +source of pleasure; not the mere multitude, but the constellation +of multitude. The broken lights in the work of a good +painter wander like flocks upon the hills, not unshepherded, +speaking of life and peace: the broken lights of a bad painter +fall like hailstones, and are capable only of mischief, leaving +it to be wished they were also of dissolution.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171"></a>171</span></p> + +<p class="title1">9. THE LAW OF HARMONY.</p> + +<p>234. This last law is not, strictly speaking, so much one +of composition as of truth, but it must guide composition, and +is properly, therefore, to be stated in this place.</p> + +<p>Good drawing is, as we have seen, an <i>abstract</i> of natural +facts; you cannot represent all that you would, but must +continually be falling short, whether you will or no, of the +force, or quantity, of Nature. Now, suppose that your +means and time do not admit of your giving the depth of +color in the scene, and that you are obliged to paint it paler. +If you paint all the colors proportionately paler, as if an +equal quantity of tint had been washed away from each of +them, you still obtain a harmonious, though not an equally +forcible, statement of natural fact. But if you take away +the colors unequally, and leave some tints nearly as deep as +they are in Nature, while others are much subdued, you have +no longer a true statement. You cannot say to the observer, +"Fancy all those colors a little deeper, and you will have the +actual fact." However he adds in imagination, or takes +away, something is sure to be still wrong. The picture is out +of harmony.</p> + +<p>235. It will happen, however, much more frequently, +that you have to darken the whole system of colors, than to +make them paler. You remember, in your first studies of +color from Nature, you were to leave the passages of light +which were too bright to be imitated, as white paper. But, +in completing the picture, it becomes necessary to put color +into them; and then the other colors must be made darker, +in some fixed relation to them. If you deepen all proportionately, +though the whole scene is darker than reality, it is +only as if you were looking at the reality in a lower light: +but if, while you darken some of the tints, you leave others +undarkened, the picture is out of harmony, and will not give +the impression of truth.</p> + +<p>236. It is not, indeed, possible to deepen <i>all</i> the colors so +much as to relieve the lights in their natural degree, you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172"></a>172</span> +would merely sink most of your colors, if you tried to do so, +into a broad mass of blackness: but it is quite possible to +lower them harmoniously, and yet more in some parts of the +picture than in others, so as to allow you to show the light you +want in a visible relief. In well-harmonized pictures this is +done by gradually deepening the tone of the picture towards +the lighter parts of it, without materially lowering it in the +very dark parts; the tendency in such pictures being, of +course, to include large masses of middle tints. But the principal +point to be observed in doing this, is to deepen the individual +tints without dirtying or obscuring them. It is +easy to lower the tone of the picture by washing it over with +gray or brown; and easy to see the effect of the landscape, +when its colors are thus universally polluted with black, by +using the black convex mirror, one of the most pestilent inventions +for falsifying Nature and degrading art which ever +was put into an artist's hand.<a name="FnAnchor_71" href="#Footnote_71"><span class="sp">[71]</span></a> For the thing required is +not to darken pale yellow by mixing gray with it, but to +deepen the pure yellow; not to darken crimson by mixing +black with it, but by making it deeper and richer crimson: +and thus the required effect could only be seen in Nature, if +you had pieces of glass of the color of every object in your +landscape, and of every minor hue that made up those colors, +and then could see the real landscape through this deep +gorgeousness of the varied glass. You cannot do this with +glass, but you can do it for yourself as you work; that is to +say, you can put deep blue for pale blue, deep gold for +pale gold, and so on, in the proportion you need; and then you +may paint as forcibly as you choose, but your work will still +be in the manner of Titian, not of Caravaggio or Spagnoletto, +or any other of the black slaves of painting.<a name="FnAnchor_72" href="#Footnote_72"><span class="sp">[72]</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page173"></a>173</span></p> + +<p>237. Supposing those scales of color, which I told you to +prepare in order to show you the relations of color to gray, +were quite accurately made, and numerous enough, you would +have nothing more to do, in order to obtain a deeper tone in +any given mass of color, than to substitute for each of its hues +the hue as many degrees deeper in the scale as you wanted, +that is to say, if you wanted to deepen the whole two degrees, +substituting for the yellow No. 5 the yellow No. 7, and for the +red No. 9 the red No. 11, and so on: but the hues of any +object in Nature are far too numerous, and their degrees too +subtle, to admit of so mechanical a process. Still, you may +see the principle of the whole matter clearly by taking a +group of colors out of your scale, arranging them prettily, +and then washing them all over with gray: that represents +the treatment of Nature by the black mirror. Then arrange +the same group of colors, with the tints five or six degrees +deeper in the scale; and that will represent the treatment of +Nature by Titian.</p> + +<p>238. You can only, however, feel your way fully to the +right of the thing by working from Nature.</p> + +<p>The best subject on which to begin a piece of study of this +kind is a good thick tree trunk, seen against blue sky with +some white clouds in it. Paint the clouds in true and +tenderly gradated white; then give the sky a bold full blue, +bringing them well out; then paint the trunk and leaves +grandly dark against all, but in such glowing dark green +and brown as you see they will bear. Afterwards proceed to +more complicated studies, matching the colors carefully first +by your old method; then deepening each color with its own +tint, and being careful, above all things, to keep truth of +equal change when the colors are connected with each other, +as in dark and light sides of the same object. Much more +aspect and sense of harmony are gained by the precision +with which you observe the relation of colors in dark sides +and light sides, and the influence of modifying reflections, +than by mere accuracy of added depth in independent colors.</p> + +<p>239. This harmony of tone, as it is generally called, is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174"></a>174</span> +the most important of those which the artist has to regard. +But there are all kinds of harmonies in a picture, according to +its mode of production. There is even a harmony of touch. +If you paint one part of it very rapidly and forcibly, and +another part slowly and delicately, each division of the picture +may be right separately, but they will not agree together: the +whole will be effectless and valueless, out of harmony. Similarly, +if you paint one part of it by a yellow light in a warm +day, and another by a gray light in a cold day, though both +may have been sunlight, and both may be well toned, +and have their relative shadows truly cast, neither will look +like light; they will destroy each other's power, by being out +of harmony. These are only broad and definable instances +of discordance; but there is an extent of harmony in all good +work much too subtle for definition; depending on the +draughtsman's carrying everything he draws up to just the +balancing and harmonious point, in finish, and color, and +depth of tone, and intensity of moral feeling, and style of +touch, all considered at once; and never allowing himself to +lean too emphatically on detached parts, or exalt one thing at +the expense of another, or feel acutely in one place and coldly +in another. If you have got some of Cruikshank's etchings, +you will be able, I think, to feel the nature of harmonious +treatment in a simple kind, by comparing them with any +of Richter's illustrations to the numerous German story-books +lately published at Christmas, with all the German +stories spoiled. Cruikshank's work is often incomplete in +character and poor in incident, but, as drawing, it is <i>perfect</i> +in harmony. The pure and simple effects of daylight which +he gets by his thorough mastery of treatment in this respect, +are quite unrivaled, as far as I know, by any other work executed +with so few touches. His vignettes to Grimm's German +stories, already recommended, are the most remarkable +in this quality. Richter's illustrations, on the contrary, are +of a very high stamp as respects understanding of human +character, with infinite playfulness and tenderness of fancy; +but, as drawings, they are almost unendurably out of harmony, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175"></a>175</span> +violent blacks in one place being continually opposed +to trenchant white in another; and, as is almost sure to be the +case with bad harmonists, the local color hardly felt anywhere. +All German work is apt to be out of harmony, in consequence +of its too frequent conditions of affectation, and its +willful refusals of fact; as well as by reason of a feverish kind +of excitement, which dwells violently on particular points, +and makes all the lines of thought in the picture to stand on +end, as it were, like a cat's fur electrified; while good work is +always as quiet as a couchant leopard, and as strong.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>240. I have now stated to you all the laws of composition +which occur to me as capable of being illustrated or defined; +but there are multitudes of others which, in the present state +of my knowledge, I cannot define, and others which I never +hope to define; and these the most important, and connected +with the deepest powers of the art. I hope, when I have +thought of them more, to be able to explain some of the laws +which relate to nobleness and ignobleness; that ignobleness +especially which we commonly call "vulgarity" and which, +in its essence, is one of the most curious subjects of inquiry +connected with human feeling. Others I never hope to +explain, laws of expression, bearing simply on simple matters; +but, for that very reason, more influential than any +others. These are, from the first, as inexplicable as our bodily +sensations are; it being just as impossible, I think, to show, +finally, why one succession of musical notes<a name="FnAnchor_73" href="#Footnote_73"><span class="sp">[73]</span></a> shall be lofty +and pathetic, and such as might have been sung by Casella +to Dante, and why another succession is base and ridiculous, +and would be fit only for the reasonably good ear of Bottom, +as to explain why we like sweetness, and dislike bitterness. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176"></a>176</span> +The best part of every great work is always inexplicable: it +is good because it is good; and innocently gracious, opening +as the green of the earth, or falling as the dew of heaven.</p> + +<p>241. But though you cannot explain them, you may always +render yourself more and more sensitive to these higher qualities +by the discipline which you generally give to your character, +and this especially with regard to the choice of incidents; +a kind of composition in some sort easier than the artistical +arrangements of lines and colors, but in every sort +nobler, because addressed to deeper feelings.</p> + +<p>242. For instance, in the "Datur Hora Quieti," the last +vignette to Rogers's Poems, the plow in the foreground +has three purposes. The first purpose is to meet the stream +of sunlight on the river, and make it brighter by opposition; +but any dark object whatever would have done this. Its +second purpose is, by its two arms, to repeat the cadence of +the group of the two ships, and thus give a greater expression +of repose; but two sitting figures would have done this. Its +third and chief, or pathetic, purpose is, as it lies abandoned +in the furrow (the vessels also being moored, and having their +sails down), to be a type of human labor closed with the +close of day. The parts of it on which the hand leans are +brought most clearly into sight; and they are the chief dark +of the picture, because the tillage of the ground is required of +man as a punishment: but they make the soft light of the +setting sun brighter, because rest is sweetest after toil. These +thoughts may never occur to us as we glance carelessly at the +design; and yet their under current assuredly affects the +feelings, and increases, as the painter meant it should, the +impression of melancholy, and of peace.</p> + +<p>243. Again, in the "Lancaster Sands," which is one of the +plates I have marked as most desirable for your possession: +the stream of light which falls from the setting sun on the +advancing tide stands similarly in need of some force of near +object to relieve its brightness. But the incident which +Turner has here adopted is the swoop of an angry sea-gull at +a dog, who yelps at it, drawing back as the wave rises over +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177"></a>177</span> +his feet, and the bird shrieks within a foot of his face. Its +unexpected boldness is a type of the anger of its ocean element, +and warns us of the sea's advance just as surely as the +abandoned plow told us of the ceased labor of the day.</p> + +<p>244. It is not, however, so much in the selection of single +incidents of this kind, as in the feeling which regulates the +arrangement of the whole subject, that the mind of a great +composer is known. A single incident may be suggested by +a felicitous chance, as a pretty motto might be for the heading +of a chapter. But the great composers so arrange <i>all</i> +their designs that one incident illustrates another, just as one +color relieves another. Perhaps the "Heysham," of the +Yorkshire series, which, as to its locality, may be considered +a companion to the last drawing we have spoken of, the "Lancaster +Sands," presents as interesting an example as we could +find of Turner's feeling in this respect. The subject is a +simple north-country village, on the shore of Morecambe +Bay; not in the common sense a picturesque village; there are +no pretty bow-windows, or red roofs, or rocky steps of entrance +to the rustic doors, or quaint gables; nothing but a +single street of thatched and chiefly clay-built cottages, ranged +in a somewhat monotonous line, the roofs so green with moss +that at first we hardly discern the houses from the fields and +trees. The village street is closed at the end by a wooden +gate, indicating the little traffic there is on the road through +it, and giving it something the look of a large farmstead, in +which a right of way lies through the yard. The road +which leads to this gate is full of ruts, and winds down a +bad bit of hill between two broken banks of moor ground, +succeeding immediately to the few inclosures which surround +the village; they can hardly be called gardens: but a decayed +fragment or two of fencing fill the gaps in the bank; a clothes-line, +with some clothes on it, striped blue and red, and a +smock-frock, is stretched between the trunks of some stunted +willows; a <i>very</i> small haystack and pig-sty being seen at +the back of the cottage beyond. An empty, two-wheeled, +lumbering cart, drawn by a pair of horses with huge wooden +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178"></a>178</span> +collars, the driver sitting lazily in the sun, sideways on the +leader, is going slowly home along the rough road, it being +about country dinner-time. At the end of the village there is +a better house, with three chimneys and a dormer window in +its roof, and the roof is of stone shingle instead of thatch, +but very rough. This house is no doubt the clergyman's: +there is some smoke from one of its chimneys, none from any +other in the village; this smoke is from the lowest chimney +at the back, evidently that of the kitchen, and it is rather +thick, the fire not having been long lighted. A few hundred +yards from the clergyman's house, nearer the shore, is the +church, discernible from the cottages only by its low two-arched +belfry, a little neater than one would expect in +such a village; perhaps lately built by the Puseyite incumbent:<a name="FnAnchor_74" href="#Footnote_74"><span class="sp">[74]</span></a> +and beyond the church, close to the sea, are two +fragments of a border war-tower, standing on their circular +mound, worn on its brow deep into edges and furrows by the +feet of the village children. On the bank of moor, which +forms the foreground, are a few cows, the carter's dog barking +at a vixenish one: the milkmaid is feeding another, a +gentle white one, which turns its head to her, expectant of +a handful of fresh hay, which she has brought for it in her +blue apron, fastened up round her waist; she stands with her +pail on her head, evidently the village coquette, for she has +a neat bodice, and pretty striped petticoat under the blue +apron, and red stockings. Nearer us, the cowherd, bare-footed, +stands on a piece of the limestone rock (for the ground +is thistly and not pleasurable to bare feet);—whether boy +or girl we are not sure: it may be a boy, with a girl's worn-out +bonnet on, or a girl with a pair of ragged trousers on; +probably the first, as the old bonnet is evidently useful to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179"></a>179</span> +keep the sun out of our eyes when we are looking for strayed +cows among the moorland hollows, and helps us at present to +watch (holding the bonnet's edge down) the quarrel of the +vixenish cow with the dog, which, leaning on our long stick, +we allow to proceed without any interference. A little to the +right the hay is being got in, of which the milkmaid has just +taken her apronful to the white cow; but the hay is very thin, +and cannot well be raked up because of the rocks; we must +glean it like corn, hence the smallness of our stack behind the +willows; and a woman is pressing a bundle of it hard together, +kneeling against the rock's edge, to carry it safely to the hay-cart +without dropping any. Beyond the village is a rocky +hill, deep set with brushwood, a square crag or two of limestone +emerging here and there, with pleasant turf on their +brows, heaved in russet and mossy mounds against the sky, +which, clear and calm, and as golden as the moss, stretches +down behind it towards the sea. A single cottage just shows +its roof over the edge of the hill, looking seawards: perhaps +one of the village shepherds is a sea captain now, and may +have built it there, that his mother may first see the sails of +his ship whenever it runs into the bay. Then under the hill, +and beyond the border tower, is the blue sea itself, the waves +flowing in over the sand in long curved lines slowly; shadows +of cloud, and gleams of shallow water on white sand alternating—miles +away; but no sail is visible, not one fisher-boat +on the beach, not one dark speck on the quiet horizon. +Beyond all are the Cumberland mountains, clear in the sun, +with rosy light on all their crags.</p> + +<p>245. I should think the reader cannot but feel the kind of +harmony there is in this composition; the entire purpose of +the painter to give us the impression of wild, yet gentle, +country life, monotonous as the succession of the noiseless +waves, patient and enduring as the rocks; but peaceful, and +full of health and quiet hope, and sanctified by the pure +mountain air and baptismal dew of heaven, falling softly +between days of toil and nights of innocence.</p> + +<p>246. All noble composition of this kind can be reached +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180"></a>180</span> +only by instinct; you cannot set yourself to arrange such a +subject; you may see it, and seize it, at all times, but never +laboriously invent it. And your power of discerning what is +best in expression, among natural subjects, depends wholly +on the temper in which you keep your own mind; above all, +on your living so much alone as to allow it to become acutely +sensitive in its own stillness. The noisy life of modern days +is wholly incompatible with any true perception of natural +beauty. If you go down into Cumberland by the railroad, +live in some frequented hotel, and explore the hills with +merry companions, however much you may enjoy your tour +or their conversation, depend upon it you will never choose so +much as one pictorial subject rightly; you will not see into +the depth of any. But take knapsack and stick, walk towards +the hills by short day's journeys,—ten or twelve miles a +day—taking a week from some starting-place sixty or seventy +miles away: sleep at the pretty little wayside inns, or the +rough village ones; then take the hills as they tempt you, following +glen or shore as your eye glances or your heart guides, +wholly scornful of local fame or fashion, and of everything +which it is the ordinary traveler's duty to see, or pride to do. +Never force yourself to admire anything when you are not in +the humor; but never force yourself away from what you feel +to be lovely, in search of anything better; and gradually the +deeper scenes of the natural world will unfold themselves to +you in still increasing fullness of passionate power; and your +difficulty will be no more to seek or to compose subjects, but +only to choose one from among the multitude of melodious +thoughts with which you will be haunted, thoughts which +will of course be noble or original in proportion to your own +depth of character and general power of mind; for it is not +so much by the consideration you give to any single drawing, +as by the previous discipline of your powers of thought, that +the character of your composition will be determined. Simplicity +of life will make you sensitive to the refinement and +modesty of scenery, just as inordinate excitement and pomp +of daily life will make you enjoy coarse colors and affected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181"></a>181</span> +forms. Habits of patient comparison and accurate judgment +will make your art precious, as they will make your actions +wise; and every increase of noble enthusiasm in your living +spirit will be measured by the reflection of its light upon +the works of your hands.—Faithfully yours,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; "><span class="sc">J. Ruskin.</span></p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_41" href="#FnAnchor_41">[41]</a> I give Rossetti this pre-eminence, because, though the leading Pre-Raphaelites +have all about equal power over color in the abstract, Rossetti +and Holman Hunt are distinguished above the rest for rendering +color under effects of light; and of these two, Rossetti composes with +richer fancy, and with a deeper sense of beauty, Hunt's stern realism +leading him continually into harshness. Rossetti's carelessness, to do him +justice, is only in water-color, never in oil.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_42" href="#FnAnchor_42">[42]</a> All the degradation of art which was brought about, after the rise of +the Dutch school, by asphaltum, yellow varnish, and brown trees would +have been prevented, if only painters had been forced to work in dead +color. Any color will do for some people, if it is browned and shining; +but fallacy in dead color is detected on the instant. I even believe that +whenever a painter begins to <i>wish</i> that he could touch any portion of his +work with gum, he is going wrong.</p> + +<p>It is necessary, however, in this matter, carefully to distinguish between +translucency and luster. Translucency, though, as I have said above, a +dangerous temptation, is, in its place, beautiful; but luster or <i>shininess</i> is +always, in painting, a defect. Nay, one of my best painter-friends (the +"best" being understood to attach to both divisions of that awkward +compound word,) tried the other day to persuade me that luster was an +ignobleness in anything; and it was only the fear of treason to ladies' +eyes, and to mountain streams, and to morning dew, which kept me from +yielding the point to him. One is apt always to generalize too quickly +in such matters; but there can be no question that luster is destructive of +loveliness in color, as it is of intelligibility in form. Whatever may be the +pride of a young beauty in the knowledge that her eyes shine (though +perhaps even eyes are most beautiful in dimness), she would be sorry if +her cheeks did; and which of us would wish to polish a rose?</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_43" href="#FnAnchor_43">[43]</a> But not shiny or greasy. Bristol board, or hot-pressed imperial, or +gray paper that feels slightly adhesive to the hand, is best. Coarse, +gritty, and sandy papers are fit only for blotters and blunderers; no good +draughtsman would lay a line on them. Turner worked much on a thin +tough paper, dead in surface; rolling up his sketches in tight bundles +that would go deep into his pockets.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_44" href="#FnAnchor_44">[44]</a> I insist upon this unalterability of color the more because I address +you as a beginner, or an amateur: a great artist can sometimes get out of +a difficulty with credit, or repent without confession. Yet even Titian's +alterations usually show as stains on his work.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_45" href="#FnAnchor_45">[45]</a> It is, I think, a piece of affectation to try to work with few colors: it +saves time to have enough tints prepared without mixing, and you may +at once allow yourself these twenty-four. If you arrange them in your +color-box in the order I have set them down, you will always easily put +your finger on the one you want.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="100%" summary="table"> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Cobalt</td> + <td class="lsp">Smalt</td> + <td class="lsp">Antwerb blue</td> + <td class="lsp">Prussian blue</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Black</td> + <td class="lsp">Gamboge</td> + <td class="lsp">Emerald green</td> + <td class="lsp">Hooker's green</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Lemon yellow</td> + <td class="lsp">Cadmium yellow</td> + <td class="lsp">Yellow ocher</td> + <td class="lsp">Roman ocher</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Raw sienna</td> + <td class="lsp">Burnt sienna</td> + <td class="lsp">Light red</td> + <td class="lsp">Indian red</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Mars orange</td> + <td class="lsp">Extract of vermilion</td> + <td class="lsp">Carmine</td> + <td class="lsp">Violet carmine</td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Brown madder</td> + <td class="lsp">Burnt umber</td> + <td class="lsp">Vandyke brown</td> + <td class="lsp">Sepia</td> </tr> + +</table> + + +<p>Antwerp blue and Prussian blue are not very permanent colors, but +you need not care much about permanence in your work as yet, and they +are both beautiful; while Indigo is marked by Field as more fugitive still, +and is very ugly. Hooker's green is a mixed color, put in the box merely +to save you loss of time in mixing gamboge and Prussian blue. No. 1 is +the best tint of it. Violet carmine is a noble color for laying broken shadows +with, to be worked into afterwards with other colors.</p> + +<p>If you wish to take up coloring seriously you had better get Field's +"Chromatography" at once; only do not attend to anything it says about +principles or harmonies of color; but only to its statements of practical +serviceableness in pigments, and of their operations on each other when +mixed, etc.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_46" href="#FnAnchor_46">[46]</a> A more methodical, though under general circumstances uselessly +prolix way, is to cut a square hole, some half an inch wide, in the sheet +of cardboard, and a series of small circular holes in a slip of cardboard an +inch wide. Pass the slip over the square opening, and match each color +beside one of the circular openings. You will thus have no occasion to +wash any of the colors away. But the first rough method is generally all +you want, as, after a little practice, you only need to <i>look</i> at the hue +through the opening in order to be able to transfer it to your drawing at +once.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_47" href="#FnAnchor_47">[47]</a> If colors were twenty times as costly as they are, we should have +many more good painters. If I were Chancellor of the Exchequer I would +lay a tax of twenty shillings a cake on all colors except black, Prussian +blue, Vandyke brown, and Chinese white, which I would leave for students. +I don't say this jestingly; I believe such a tax would do more to +advance real art than a great many schools of design.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_48" href="#FnAnchor_48">[48]</a> I say <i>modern</i>, because Titian's quiet way of blending colors, which is +the perfectly right one, is not understood now by any artist. The best +color we reach is got by stippling; but this is not quite right.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_49" href="#FnAnchor_49">[49]</a> See <a href="#note6">Note 6</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_50" href="#FnAnchor_50">[50]</a> The worst general character that color can possibly have is a prevalent +tendency to a dirty yellowish green, like that of a decaying heap +of vegetables; this color is <i>accurately</i> indicative of decline or paralysis in +missal-painting.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_51" href="#FnAnchor_51">[51]</a> That is to say, local color inherent in the object. The gradations of +color in the various shadows belonging to various lights exhibit form, and +therefore no one but a colorist can ever draw <i>forms</i> perfectly (see Modern +Painters, vol. iv. chap. iii. at the end); but all notions of explaining form +by superimposed color, as in architectural moldings, are absurd. Color +adorns form, but does not interpret it. An apple is prettier because it is +striped, but it does not look a bit rounder; and a cheek is prettier because +it is flushed, but you would see the form of the cheek bone better if it were +not. Color may, indeed, detach one shape from another, as in grounding +a bas-relief, but it always diminishes the appearance of projection, +and whether you put blue, purple, red, yellow, or green, for your ground, +the bas-relief will be just as clearly or just as imperfectly relieved, as +long as the colors are of equal depth. The blue ground will not retire the +hundredth part of an inch more than the red one.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_52" href="#FnAnchor_52">[52]</a> See, however, at the close of this letter, the notice of one more point +connected with the management of color, under the head "Law of Harmony."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_53" href="#FnAnchor_53">[53]</a> See farther, on this subject, Modern Painters, vol. iv. chap. viii. § 6.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_54" href="#FnAnchor_54">[54]</a> See <a href="#note7">Note 7</a> in Appendix I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_55" href="#FnAnchor_55">[55]</a> "In general, throughout Nature, reflection and repetition are peaceful +things, associated with the idea of quiet succession in events; that +one day should be like another day, or one history the repetition of another +history, being more or less results of quietness, while dissimilarity and +non-succession are results of interference and disquietude. Thus, though +an echo actually increases the quantity of sound heard, its repetition of +the note or syllable gives an idea of calmness attainable in no other way; +hence also the feeling of calm given to a landscape by the voice of a +cuckoo."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_56" href="#FnAnchor_56">[56]</a> This is obscure in the rude wood-cut, the masts being so delicate that +they are confused among the lines of reflection. In the original they have +orange light upon them, relieved against purple behind.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_57" href="#FnAnchor_57">[57]</a> The cost of art in getting a bridge level is <i>always</i> lost, for you must +get up to the height of the central arch at any rate, and you only can make +the whole bridge level by putting the hill farther back, and pretending to +have got rid of it when you have not, but have only wasted money in +building an unnecessary embankment. Of course, the bridge should not +be difficultly or dangerously steep, but the necessary slope, whatever it +may be, should be in the bridge itself, as far as the bridge can take it, and +not pushed aside into the approach, as in our Waterloo road; the only +rational excuse for doing which is that when the slope must be long it is +inconvenient to put on a drag at the top of the bridge, and that any +restiveness of the horse is more dangerous on the bridge than on the embankment. +To this I answer: first, it is not more dangerous in reality, +though it looks so, for the bridge is always guarded by an effective parapet, +but the embankment is sure to have no parapet, or only a useless +rail; and secondly, that it is better to have the slope on the bridge and +make the roadway wide in proportion, so as to be quite safe, because a +little waste of space on the river is no loss, but your wide embankment at +the side loses good ground; and so my picturesque bridges are right as +well as beautiful, and I hope to see them built again some day instead of +the frightful straight-backed things which we fancy are fine, and accept +from the pontifical rigidities of the engineering mind.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_58" href="#FnAnchor_58">[58]</a> I cannot waste space here by reprinting what I have said in other +books; but the reader ought, if possible, to refer to the notices of this +part of our subject in Modern Painters, vol. iv. chap xvii.; and Stones of +Venice, vol. iii. chap. i. § 8.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_59" href="#FnAnchor_59">[59]</a> If you happen to be reading at this part of the book, without having +gone through any previous practice, turn back to the sketch of the ramification +of stone pine, <a href="#fig_4">Fig. 4</a>, <a href="#page017">p. 17</a>, and examine the curves of its boughs +one by one, trying them by the conditions here stated under the heads A +and B.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_60" href="#FnAnchor_60">[60]</a> The reader, I hope, observes always that every line in these figures +is itself one of varying curvature, and cannot be drawn by compasses.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_61" href="#FnAnchor_61">[61]</a> I hope the reader understands that these wood-cuts are merely facsimiles +of the sketches I make at the side of my paper to illustrate my +meaning as I write—often sadly scrawled if I want to get on to something +else. This one is really a little too careless; but it would take more time +and trouble to make a proper drawing of so odd a boat than the matter is +worth. It will answer the purpose well enough as it is.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_62" href="#FnAnchor_62">[62]</a> Imperfect vegetable form I consider that which is in its nature dependent, +as in runners and climbers; or which is susceptible of continual +injury without materially losing the power of giving pleasure by its +aspect, as in the case of the smaller grasses. I have not, of course, space +here to explain these minor distinctions, but the laws above stated apply +to all the more important trees and shrubs likely to be familiar to the +student.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_63" href="#FnAnchor_63">[63]</a> There is a very tender lesson of this kind in the shadows of leaves +upon the ground; shadows which are the most likely of all to attract attention, +by their pretty play and change. If you examine them, you will +find that the shadows do not take the forms of the leaves, but that, through +each interstice, the light falls, at a little distance, in the form of a round +or oval spot; that is to say, it produces the image of the sun itself, cast +either vertically or obliquely, in circle or ellipse according to the slope of +the ground. Of course the sun's rays produce the same effect, when they +fall through any small aperture: but the openings between leaves are the +only ones likely to show it to an ordinary observer, or to attract his attention +to it by its frequency, and lead him to think what this type may +signify respecting the greater Sun; and how it may show us that, even +when the opening through which the earth receives light is too small to +let us see the Sun Himself, the ray of light that enters, if it comes straight +from Him, will still bear with it His image.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_64" href="#FnAnchor_64">[64]</a> In the smaller figure (32), it will be seen that this interruption is +caused by a cart coming down to the water's edge; and this object is +serviceable as beginning another system of curves leading out of the +picture on the right, but so obscurely drawn as not to be easily represented +in outline. As it is unnecessary to the explanation of our point here, it +has been omitted in the larger diagram, the direction of the curve it begins +being indicated by the dashes only.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_65" href="#FnAnchor_65">[65]</a> Both in the Sketches in Flanders and Germany.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_66" href="#FnAnchor_66">[66]</a> If you happen to meet with the plate of Dürer's representing a coat-of-arms +with a skull in the shield, note the value given to the concave +curves and sharp point of the helmet by the convex leafage carried round +it in front; and the use of the blank white part of the shield in opposing +the rich folds of the dress.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_67" href="#FnAnchor_67">[67]</a> Turner hardly ever, as far as I remember, allows a strong light to +oppose a full dark, without some intervening tint. His suns never set +behind dark mountains without a film of cloud above the mountain's edge.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_68" href="#FnAnchor_68">[68]</a> + +<p class="poemq"> +"A prudent chief not always must display <br /> +His powers in equal ranks and fair array, <br /> +But with the occasion and the place comply, <br /> +Conceal his force; nay, seem sometimes to fly. <br /> +Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, <br /> +Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream." <br /> + +<span style="padding-left: 16em; "><i>Essay on Criticism.</i></span></p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_69" href="#FnAnchor_69">[69]</a> I am describing from an MS., <i>circa</i> 1300, of Gregory's Decretalia, in +my own possession.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_70" href="#FnAnchor_70">[70]</a> One of the most wonderful compositions of Tintoret in Venice, is +little more than a field of subdued crimson, spotted with flakes of scattered +gold. The upper clouds in the most beautiful skies owe great part +of their power to infinitude of divisions; order being marked through this +division.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_71" href="#FnAnchor_71">[71]</a> I fully believe that the strange gray gloom, accompanied by considerable +power of effect, which prevails in modern French art, must be +owing to the use of this mischievous instrument; the French landscape +always gives me the idea of Nature seen carelessly in the dark mirror, and +painted coarsely, but scientifically, through the veil of its perversion.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_72" href="#FnAnchor_72">[72]</a> Various other parts of this subject are entered into, especially in their +bearing on the ideal of painting, in Modern Painters, vol. iv. chap. iii.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_73" href="#FnAnchor_73">[73]</a> In all the best arrangements of color, the delight occasioned by their +mode of succession is entirely inexplicable, nor can it be reasoned about; +we like it just as we like an air in music, but cannot reason any refractory +person into liking it, if they do not: and yet there is distinctly a right and +a wrong in it, and a good taste and bad taste respecting it, as also in +music.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_74" href="#FnAnchor_74">[74]</a> "Puseyism" was unknown in the days when this drawing was made; +but the kindly and helpful influences of what may be called ecclesiastical +sentiment, which, in a morbidly exaggerated condition, forms one of the +principal elements of "Puseyism,"—I use this word regretfully, no other +existing which will serve for it,—had been known and felt in our wild +northern districts long before.</p> +</div> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182"></a>182</span></p> + +<p><br /></p> +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183"></a>183</span></p> + +<h3>APPENDIX.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p class="title1">ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES.</p> + +<p class="title2"><span class="sc">Note 1</span>, <a name="note1" href="#page042">p. 42</a>.—"<i>Principle of the stereoscope.</i>"</p> + +<p>247. I am sorry to find a notion current among artists, +that they can, in some degree, imitate in a picture the effect +of the stereoscope, by confusion of lines. There are indeed +one or two artifices by which, as stated in the text, an +appearance of retirement or projection may be obtained, so +that they partly supply the place of the stereoscopic effect, +but they do not imitate that effect. The principle of the +human sight is simply this:—by means of our two eyes we +literally see everything from two places at once; and, by +calculated combination, in the brain, of the facts of form so +seen, we arrive at conclusions respecting the distance and +shape of the object, which we could not otherwise have +reached. But it is just as vain to hope to paint at once the two +views of the object as seen from these two places, though only +an inch and a half distant from each other, as it would be +if they were a mile and a half distant from each other. With +the right eye you see one view of a given object, relieved +against one part of the distance; with the left eye you see +another view of it, relieved against another part of the distance. +You may paint whichever of those views you please; +you cannot paint both. Hold your finger upright, between +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184"></a>184</span> +you and this page of the book, about six inches from your +eyes, and three from the book; shut the right eye, and hide +the words "inches from," in the second line above this, with +your finger; you will then see "six" on one side of it, and +"your," on the other. Now shut the left eye and open the +right without moving your finger, and you will see "inches," +but not "six." You may paint the finger with "inches" +beyond it, or with "six" beyond it, but not with both. And +this principle holds for any object and any distance. You +might just as well try to paint St. Paul's at once from both +ends of London Bridge as to realize any stereoscopic effect in +a picture.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 2</span>, <a name="note2" href="#page059">p. 59</a>.—"<i>Dark lines turned to the light.</i>"</p> + +<p>248. It ought to have been farther observed, that the +inclosure of the light by future shadow is by no means the +only reason for the dark lines which great masters often +thus introduce. It constantly happens that a local color will +show its own darkness most on the light side, by projecting +into and against masses of light in that direction; and then +the painter will indicate this future force of the mass by +his dark touch. Both the monk's head in <a href="#fig_11">Fig. 11</a> and dog in +<a href="#fig_20">Fig. 20</a> are dark towards the light for this reason.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 3</span>, <a name="note3" href="#page098">p. 98</a>.—"<i>Softness of reflections.</i>"</p> + +<p>249. I have not quite insisted enough on the extreme care +which is necessary in giving the tender evanescence of the +edges of the reflections, when the water is in the least agitated; +nor on the decision with which you may reverse the object, +when the water is quite calm. Most drawing of reflections +is at once confused and hard; but Nature's is at once intelligible +and tender. Generally, at the edge of the water, you +ought not to see where reality ceases and reflection begins; +as the image loses itself you ought to keep all its subtle and +varied veracities, with the most exquisite softening of its edge. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185"></a>185</span> +Practice as much as you can from the reflections of ships in +calm water, following out all the reversed rigging, and +taking, if anything, more pains with the reflection than with +the ship.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 4</span>, <a name="note4" href="#page100">p. 100</a>.—"<i>Where the reflection is darkest, you will<br /> +see through the water best.</i>"</p> + +<p>250. For this reason it often happens that if the water +be shallow, and you are looking steeply down into it, the +reflection of objects on the bank will consist simply of pieces +of the bottom seen clearly through the water, and relieved +by flashes of light, which are the reflection of the sky. Thus +you may have to draw the reflected dark shape of a bush: +but, inside of that shape, you must not draw the leaves of +the bush, but the stones under the water; and, outside of this +dark reflection, the blue or white of the sky, with no stones +visible.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 5</span>, <a name="note5" href="#page101">p. 101</a>.—"<i>Approach streams with reverence.</i>"</p> + +<p>251. I have hardly said anything about waves of torrents +or waterfalls, as I do not consider them subjects for beginners +to practice upon; but, as many of our younger artists are +almost breaking their hearts over them, it may be well to +state at once that it is physically impossible to draw a +running torrent quite rightly, the luster of its currents and +whiteness of its foam being dependent on intensities of light +which art has not at its command. This also is to be observed, +that most young painters make their defeat certain by attempting +to draw running water, which is a lustrous object in +rapid motion, without ever trying their strength on a lustrous +object standing still. Let them break a coarse green-glass +bottle into a great many bits, and try to paint those, with all +their undulations and edges of fracture, as they lie still on +the table; if they cannot, of course they need not try the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186"></a>186</span> +rushing crystal and foaming fracture of the stream. If +they can manage the glass bottle, let them next buy a fragment +or two of yellow fire-opal; it is quite a common and +cheap mineral, and presents, as closely as anything can, the +milky bloom and color of a torrent wave: and if they can +conquer the opal, they may at last have some chance with +the stream, as far as the stream is in any wise possible. But, +as I have just said, the bright parts of it are <i>not</i> possible, and +ought, as much as may be, to be avoided in choosing subjects. +A great deal more may, however, be done than any artist has +done yet, in painting the gradual disappearance and lovely +coloring of stones seen through clear and calm water.</p> + +<p>Students living in towns may make great progress in rock-drawing +by frequently and faithfully drawing broken edges +of common roofing slates, of their real size.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 6</span>, <a name="note6" href="#page125">p. 125</a>.—"<i>Nature's economy of color.</i>"</p> + +<p>252. I heard it wisely objected to this statement, the other +day, by a young lady, that it was not through economy that +Nature did not color deep down in the flower bells, but +because "she had not light enough there to see to paint +with." This may be true; but it is certainly not for want of +light that, when she is laying the dark spots on a foxglove, +she will not use any more purple than she has got already +on the bell, but takes out the color all round the spot, and +concentrates it in the middle.</p> + +<p class="title3"><span class="sc">Note 7</span>, <a name="note7" href="#page138">p. 138</a>.—"<i>The law of repetition.</i>"</p> + +<p>253. The reader may perhaps recollect a very beautiful +picture of Vandyck's in the Manchester Exhibition, representing +three children in court dresses of rich black and red. +The law in question was amusingly illustrated, in the lower +corner of that picture, by the introduction of two crows, in +a similar color of court dress, having jet black feathers and +bright red beaks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187"></a>187</span></p> + +<p>254. Since the first edition of this work was published, +I have ascertained that there are two series of engravings +from the Bible drawings mentioned in the list at <a href="#page050">p. 50</a>. +One of these is inferior to the other, and in many respects +false to the drawing; the "Jericho," for instance, in the +false series, has common bushes instead of palm trees in the +middle distance. The original plates may be had at almost +any respectable printseller's; and ordinary impressions, +whether of these or any other plates mentioned in the list +at <a href="#page050">p. 50</a>, will be quite as useful as proofs: but, in buying +Liber Studiorum, it is always well to get the best impressions +that can be had, and if possible impressions of the +original plates, published by Turner. In case these are not +to be had, the copies which are in course of publication by +Mr. Lupton (4 Keppel Street, Russell Square) are good +and serviceable; but no others are of any use.—[Note +of 1857.]</p> + +<p>I have placed in the hands of Mr. Ward (Working Men's +College) some photographs from the etchings made by Turner +for the Liber; the original etchings being now unobtainable, +except by fortunate accident. I have selected the subjects +carefully from my own collection of the etchings; and though +some of the more subtle qualities of line are lost in the +photographs, the student will find these proofs the best +lessons in pen-drawing accessible to him.—[Note of 1859]</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188"></a>188</span></p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p class="title1">THINGS TO BE STUDIED.</p> + +<p>255. The worst danger by far, to which a solitary student +is exposed, is that of liking things that he should not. It +is not so much his difficulties, as his tastes, which he must set +himself to conquer: and although, under the guidance of a +master, many works of art may be made instructive, which +are only of partial excellence (the good and bad of them +being duly distinguished), his safeguard, as long as he +studies alone, will be in allowing himself to possess only +things, in their way, so free from faults, that nothing he +copies in them can seriously mislead him, and to contemplate +only those works of art which he knows to be either perfect +or noble in their errors. I will therefore set down, in clear +order, the names of the masters whom you may safely admire, +and a few of the books which you may safely possess. In +these days of cheap illustration, the danger is always rather +of your possessing too much than too little. It may admit of +some question, how far the looking at bad art may set off +and illustrate the characters of the good; but, on the whole, +I believe it is best to live always on quite wholesome food, +and that our enjoyment of it will never be made more acute +by feeding on ashes; though it may be well sometimes to taste +the ashes, in order to know the bitterness of them. Of course +the works of the great masters can only be serviceable to the +student after he has made considerable progress himself. +It only wastes the time and dulls the feelings of young persons, +to drag them through picture galleries; at least, unless +they themselves wish to look at particular pictures. Generally, +young people only care to enter a picture gallery +when there is a chance of getting leave to run a race to the +other end of it; and they had better do that in the garden +below. If, however, they have any real enjoyment of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189"></a>189</span> +pictures, and want to look at this one or that, the principal +point is never to disturb them in looking at what interests +them, and never to make them look at what does not. Nothing +is of the least use to young people (nor, by the way, of +much use to old ones), but what interests them; and therefore, +though it is of great importance to put nothing but good +art into their possession, yet, when they are passing through +great houses or galleries, they should be allowed to look +precisely at what pleases them: if it is not useful to them as +art, it will be in some other way; and the healthiest way in +which art can interest them is when they look at it, not as +art, but because it represents something they like in Nature. +If a boy has had his heart filled by the life of some great +man, and goes up thirstily to a Vandyck portrait of him, to +see what he was like, that is the wholesomest way in which +he can begin the study of portraiture; if he loves mountains, +and dwells on a Turner drawing because he sees in it a +likeness to a Yorkshire scar or an Alpine pass, that is the +wholesomest way in which he can begin the study of landscape; +and if a girl's mind is filled with dreams of angels +and saints, and she pauses before an Angelico because she +thinks it must surely be like heaven, that is the right way for +her to begin the study of religious art.</p> + +<p>256. When, however, the student has made some definite +progress, and every picture becomes really a guide to him, +false or true, in his own work, it is of great importance that +he should never look, with even partial admiration, at bad +art; and then, if the reader is willing to trust me in the +matter, the following advice will be useful to him. In which, +with his permission, I will quit the indirect and return to +the epistolary address, as being the more convenient.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p>First, in Galleries of Pictures:</p> + +<p>1. You may look, with trust in their being always right, +at Titian, Veronese, Tintoret, Giorgione, John Bellini, and +Velasquez; the authenticity of the picture being of course +established for you by proper authority.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190"></a>190</span></p> + +<p>2. You may look with admiration, admitting, however, +question of right and wrong,<a name="FnAnchor_75" href="#Footnote_75"><span class="sp">[75]</span></a> at Van Eyck, Holbein, Perugino, +Francia, Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, Correggio, +Vandyck, Rembrandt, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Turner, and +the modern Pre-Raphaelites.<a name="FnAnchor_76" href="#Footnote_76"><span class="sp">[76]</span></a> You had better look at no +other painters than these, for you run a chance, otherwise, +of being led far off the road, or into grievous faults, by some +of the other great ones, as Michael Angelo, Raphael, and +Rubens; and of being, besides, corrupted in taste by the +base ones, as Murillo, Salvator, Claude, Gaspar Poussin, +Teniers, and such others. You may look, however, for +examples of evil, with safe universality of reprobation, being +sure that everything you see is bad, at Domenichino, the +Carracci, Bronzino, and the figure pieces of Salvator.</p> + +<p>Among those named for study under question, you cannot +look too much at, nor grow too enthusiastically fond of, +Angelico, Correggio, Reynolds, Turner, and the Pre-Raphaelites; +but, if you find yourself getting especially fond +of any of the others, leave off looking at them, for you must +be going wrong some way or other. If, for instance, you +begin to like Rembrandt or Leonardo especially, you are +losing your feeling for color; if you like Van Eyck or Perugino +especially, you must be getting too fond of rigid detail; +and if you like Vandyck or Gainsborough especially, you +must be too much attracted by gentlemanly flimsiness.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p>257. Secondly, of published, or otherwise multiplied, art, +such as you may be able to get yourself, or to see at private +houses or in shops, the works of the following masters are +the most desirable, after the Turners, Rembrandts, and +Dürers, which I have asked you to get first:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page191"></a>191</span></p> + +<p class="title4">1. Samuel Prout.<a name="FnAnchor_77" href="#Footnote_77"><span class="sp">[77]</span></a></p> + +<p>All his published lithographic sketches are of the greatest +value, wholly unrivaled in power of composition, and in +love and feeling of architectural subject. His somewhat +mannered linear execution, though not to be imitated in your +own sketches from Nature, may be occasionally copied, for +discipline's sake, with great advantage: it will give you a +peculiar steadiness of hand, not quickly attainable in any +other way; and there is no fear of your getting into any +faultful mannerism as long as you carry out the different +modes of more delicate study above recommended.</p> + +<p>If you are interested in architecture, and wish to make it +your chief study, you should draw much from photographs +of it; and then from the architecture itself, with the same +completion of detail and gradation, only keeping the +shadows of due paleness,—in photographs they are always +about four times as dark as they ought to be,—and treat +buildings with as much care and love as artists do their rock +foregrounds, drawing all the moss, and weeds, and stains +upon them. But if, without caring to understand architecture, +you merely want the picturesque character of it, and +to be able to sketch it fast, you cannot do better than take +Prout for your exclusive master; only do not think that you +are copying Prout by drawing straight lines with dots at +the end of them. Get first his "Rhine," and draw the +subjects that have most hills, and least architecture in them, +with chalk on smooth paper, till you can lay on his broad +flat tints, and get his gradations of light, which are very +wonderful; then take up the architectural subjects in the +"Rhine," and draw again and again the groups of figures, +etc., in his "Microcosm," and "Lessons on Light and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192"></a>192</span> +Shadow." After that, proceed to copy the grand subjects in +the "Sketches in Flanders and Germany;" or "in Switzerland +and Italy," if you cannot get the Flanders; but the +Switzerland is very far inferior. Then work from Nature, +not trying to Proutize Nature, by breaking smooth buildings +into rough ones, but only drawing <i>what you see</i>, with Prout's +simple method and firm lines. Don't copy his colored works. +They are good, but not at all equal to his chalk and pencil +drawings; and you will become a mere imitator, and a very +feeble imitator, if you use color at all in Prout's method. +I have not space to explain why this is so, it would take a +long piece of reasoning; trust me for the statement.</p> + + +<p class="title4">2. John Lewis.</p> + +<p>His sketches in Spain, lithographed by himself, are very +valuable. Get them, if you can, and also some engravings +(about eight or ten, I think, altogether) of wild beasts, +executed by his own hand a long time ago; they are very +precious in every way. The series of the "Alhambra" is +rather slight, and few of the subjects are lithographed by +himself; still it is well worth having.</p> + +<p>But let <i>no</i> lithographic work come into the house, if you +can help it, nor even look at any, except Prout's, and those +sketches of Lewis's.</p> + + +<p class="title4">3. George Cruikshank.</p> + +<p>If you ever happen to meet with the two volumes of +"Grimm's German Stories," which were illustrated by him +long ago, pounce upon them instantly; the etchings in them +are the finest things, next to Rembrandt's, that, as far as I +know, have been done since etching was invented. You +cannot look at them too much, nor copy them too often.</p> + +<p>All his works are very valuable, though disagreeable when +they touch on the worst vulgarities of modern life; and +often much spoiled by a curiously mistaken type of face, +divided so as to give too much to the mouth and eyes and +leave too little for forehead, the eyes being set about two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193"></a>193</span> +thirds up, instead of at half the height of the head. But +his manner of work is always right; and his tragic power, +though rarely developed, and warped by habits of caricature, +is, in reality, as great as his grotesque power.</p> + +<p>There is no fear of his hurting your taste, as long as your +principal work lies among art of so totally different a character +as most of that which I Have recommended to you; and +you may, therefore, get great good by copying almost anything +of his that may come in your way; except only his +illustrations, lately published, to "Cinderella," and "Jack +and the Bean-stalk," and "Tom Thumb," which are much +overlabored, and confused in line. You should get them, but +do not copy them.</p> + + +<p class="title4">4. Alfred Rethel.</p> + +<p>I only know two publications by him; one, the "Dance +of Death," with text by Reinick, published in Leipsic, but +to be had now of any London bookseller for the sum, I believe, +of eighteen pence, and containing six plates full of +instructive character; the other, of two plates only, "Death +the Avenger," and "Death the Friend." These two are far +superior to the "Todtentanz," and, if you can get them, will +be enough in themselves to show all that Rethel can teach +you. If you dislike ghastly subjects, get "Death the +Friend" only.</p> + + +<p class="title4">5. Bewick.</p> + +<p>The execution of the plumage in Bewick's birds is the +most masterly thing ever yet done in wood-cutting; it is +worked just as Paul Veronese would have worked in wood, +had he taken to it. His vignettes, though too coarse in execution, +and vulgar in types of form, to be good copies, show, +nevertheless, intellectual power of the highest order; and +there are pieces of sentiment in them, either pathetic or +satirical, which have never since been equaled in illustrations +of this simple kind; the bitter intensity of the feeling +being just like that which characterizes some of the leading +Pre-Raphaelites. Bewick is the Burns of painting.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page194"></a>194</span></p> + +<p class="title4">6. Blake.</p> + +<p>The "Book of Job," engraved by himself, is of the highest +rank in certain characters of imagination and expression; in +the mode of obtaining certain effects of light it will also be a +very useful example to you. In expressing conditions of glaring +and flickering light, Blake is greater than Rembrandt.</p> + + +<p class="title4">7. Richter.</p> + +<p>I have already told you what to guard against in looking at +his works. I am a little doubtful whether I have done well +in including them in this catalogue at all; but the imaginations +in them are so lovely and numberless, that I must risk, +for their sake, the chance of hurting you a little in judgment +of style. If you want to make presents of story-books to +children, his are the best you can now get; but his most +beautiful work, as far as I know, is his series of Illustrations +to the Lord's Prayer.</p> + + +<p class="title4">8. Rossetti.</p> + +<p>An edition of Tennyson, lately published, contains wood-cuts +from drawings by Rossetti and other chief Pre-Raphaelite +masters. They are terribly spoiled in the cutting, and +generally the best part, the expression of feature, <i>entirely</i> +lost;<a name="FnAnchor_78" href="#Footnote_78"><span class="sp">[78]</span></a> still they are full of instruction, and cannot be studied +too closely. But observe, respecting these wood-cuts, that if +you have been in the habit of looking at much spurious work, +in which sentiment, action, and style are borrowed or artificial, +you will assuredly be offended at first by all genuine +work, which is intense in feeling. Genuine art, which is +merely art, such as Veronese's or Titian's, may not offend +you, though the chances are that you will not care about it; +but genuine works of feeling, such as "Maud" or "Aurora +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195"></a>195</span> +Leigh" in poetry, or the grand Pre-Raphaelite designs in +painting, are sure to offend you: and if you cease to work +hard, and persist in looking at vicious and false art, they +will continue to offend you. It will be well, therefore, to +have one type of entirely false art, in order to know what to +guard against. Flaxman's outlines to Dante contain, I +think, examples of almost every kind of falsehood and feebleness +which it is possible for a trained artist, not base in +thought, to commit or admit, both in design and execution. +Base or degraded choice of subject, such as you will constantly +find in Teniers and others of the Dutch painters, I need +not, I hope, warn you against; you will simply turn away +from it in disgust; while mere bad or feeble drawing, which +makes mistakes in every direction at once, cannot teach +you the particular sort of educated fallacy in question. But, +in these designs of Flaxman's, you have gentlemanly feeling, +and fair knowledge of anatomy, and firm setting down of +lines, all applied in the foolishest and worst possible way; +you cannot have a more finished example of learned error, +amiable want of meaning, and bad drawing with a steady +hand.<a name="FnAnchor_79" href="#Footnote_79"><span class="sp">[79]</span></a> Retzsch's outlines have more real material in them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196"></a>196</span> +than Flaxman's, occasionally showing true fancy and power; +in artistic principle they are nearly as bad, and in taste, +worse. All outlines from statuary, as given in works on +classical art, will be very hurtful to you if you in the least +like them; and <i>nearly</i> all finished line engravings. Some +particular prints I could name which possess instructive +qualities, but it would take too long to distinguish them, and +the best way is to avoid line engravings of figures altogether.<a name="FnAnchor_80" href="#Footnote_80"><span class="sp">[80]</span></a> +If you happen to be a rich person, possessing quantities of +them, and if you are fond of the large finished prints from +Raphael, Correggio, etc., it is wholly impossible that you +can make any progress in knowledge of real art till you have +sold them all,—or burnt them, which would be a greater +benefit to the world. I hope that, some day, true and noble +engravings will be made from the few pictures of the great +schools, which the restorations undertaken by the modern +managers of foreign galleries may leave us; but the existing +engravings have nothing whatever in common with the good +in the works they profess to represent, and, if you like them, +you like in the originals of them hardly anything but their +errors.</p> + +<p>258. Finally, your judgment will be, of course, much affected +by your taste in literature. Indeed, I know many persons +who have the purest taste in literature, and yet false +taste in art, and it is a phenomenon which puzzles me not a +little; but I have never known any one with false taste in +books, and true taste in pictures. It is also of the greatest +importance to you, not only for art's sake, but for all kinds of +sake, in these days of book deluge, to keep out of the salt +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197"></a>197</span> +swamps of literature, and live on a little rocky island of +your own, with a spring and a lake in it, pure and good. +I cannot, of course, suggest the choice of your library to you: +every several mind needs different books; but there are some +books which we all need, and assuredly, if you read Homer,<a name="FnAnchor_81" href="#Footnote_81"><span class="sp">[81]</span></a> +Plato, Æschylus, Herodotus, Dante,<a name="FnAnchor_82" href="#Footnote_82"><span class="sp">[82]</span></a> Shakspeare, and Spenser, +as much as you ought, you will not require wide enlargement +of shelves to right and left of them for purposes of +perpetual study. Among modern books avoid generally magazine +and review literature. Sometimes it may contain a useful +abridgment or a wholesome piece of criticism; but the +chances are ten to one it will either waste your time or mislead +you. If you want to understand any subject whatever, +read the best book upon it you can hear of: not a review of +the book. If you don't like the first book you try, seek for +another; but do not hope ever to understand the subject +without pains, by a reviewer's help. Avoid especially that +class of literature which has a knowing tone; it is the most +poisonous of all. Every good book, or piece of book, is full +of admiration and awe; it may contain firm assertion or stern +satire, but it never sneers coldly, nor asserts haughtily, and +it always leads you to reverence or love something with your +whole heart. It is not always easy to distinguish the satire +of the venomous race of books from the satire of the noble and +pure ones; but in general you may notice that the cold-blooded, +Crustacean and Batrachian books will sneer at +sentiment; and the warm-blooded, human books, at sin. +Then, in general, the more you can restrain your serious +reading to reflective or lyric poetry, history, and natural +history, avoiding fiction and the drama, the healthier your +mind will become. Of modern poetry, keep to Scott, Wordsworth, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198"></a>198</span> +Keats, Crabbe, Tennyson, the two Brownings, +Thomas Hood, Lowell, Longfellow, and Coventry Patmore, +whose "Angel in the House" is a most finished piece of +writing, and the sweetest analysis we possess of quiet modern +domestic feeling; while Mrs. Browning's "Aurora Leigh" +is, as far as I know, the greatest poem which the century has +produced in any language. Cast Coleridge at once aside, as +sickly and useless; and Shelley, as shallow and verbose; +Byron, until your taste is fully formed, and you are able to +discern the magnificence in him from the wrong. Never +read bad or common poetry, nor write any poetry yourself; +there is, perhaps, rather too much than too little in the +world already.</p> + +<p>259. Of reflective prose, read chiefly Bacon, Johnson, and +Helps. Carlyle is hardly to be named as a writer for "beginners," +because his teaching, though to some of us vitally +necessary, may to others be hurtful. If you understand and +like him, read him; if he offends you, you are not yet ready +for him, and perhaps may never be so; at all events, give him +up, as you would sea-bathing if you found it hurt you, till +you are stronger. Of fiction, read "Sir Charles Grandison," +Scott's novels, Miss Edgeworth's, and, if you are a young +lady, Madame de Genlis', the French Miss Edgeworth; making +these, I mean, your constant companions. Of course +you must, or will, read other books for amusement once or +twice; but you will find that these have an element of perpetuity +in them, existing in nothing else of their kind; while +their peculiar quietness and repose of manner will also be of +the greatest value in teaching you to feel the same characters +in art. Read little at a time, trying to feel interest in little +things, and reading not so much for the sake of the story as +to get acquainted with the pleasant people into whose company +these writers bring you. A common book will often +give you much amusement, but it is only a noble book which +will give you dear friends. Remember, also, that it is of +less importance to you in your earlier years, that the books +you read should be clever than that they should be right. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199"></a>199</span> +do not mean oppressively or repulsively instructive; but +that the thoughts they express should be just, and the feelings +they excite generous. It is not necessary for you to +read the wittiest or the most suggestive books: it is better, in +general, to hear what is already known, and may be simply +said. Much of the literature of the present day, though +good to be read by persons of ripe age, has a tendency to +agitate rather than confirm, and leaves its readers too frequently +in a helpless or hopeless indignation, the worst possible +state into which the mind of youth can be thrown. It +may, indeed, become necessary for you, as you advance in +life, to set your hand to things that need to be altered in the +world, or apply your heart chiefly to what must be pitied in +it, or condemned; but, for a young person, the safest temper +is one of reverence, and the safest place one of obscurity. +Certainly at present, and perhaps through all your life, your +teachers are wisest when they make you content in quiet +virtue, and that literature and art are best for you which point +out, in common life, and in familiar things, the objects for +hopeful labor, and for humble love.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_75" href="#FnAnchor_75">[75]</a> I do not mean necessarily to imply inferiority of rank in saying that +this second class of painters have questionable qualities. The greatest +men have often many faults, and sometimes their faults are a part of their +greatness; but such men are not, of course, to be looked upon by the +student with absolute implicitness of faith.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_76" href="#FnAnchor_76">[76]</a> Including, under this term, John Lewis, and William Hunt of the +Old Water-color, who, take him all in all, is the best painter of still life, +I believe, that ever existed.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_77" href="#FnAnchor_77">[77]</a> The order in which I place these masters does not in the least imply +superiority or inferiority. I wrote their names down as they occurred to +me; putting Rossetti's last because what I had to say of him was connected +with other subjects; and one or another will appear to you great, +or be found by you useful, according to the kind of subjects you are +studying.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_78" href="#FnAnchor_78">[78]</a> This is especially the case in the St. Cecily, Rossetti's first illustration +to the "Palace of Art," which would have been the best in the book had +it been well engraved. The whole work should be taken up again, and +done by line engraving, perfectly; and wholly from Pre-Raphaelite designs, +with which no other modern work can bear the least comparison.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_79" href="#FnAnchor_79">[79]</a> The praise I have given incidentally to Flaxman's sculpture in the +"Seven Lamps," and elsewhere, refers wholly to his studies from Nature, +and simple groups in marble, which were always good and interesting. +Still, I have overrated him, even in this respect; and it is generally to be +remembered that, in speaking of artists whose works I cannot be supposed +to have specially studied, the errors I fall into will always be on +the side of praise. For, of course, praise is most likely to be given when +the thing praised is above one's knowledge; and, therefore, as our knowledge +increases, such things may be found less praiseworthy than we +thought. But blame can only be justly given when the thing blamed is +below one's level of sight; and, practically, I never do blame anything +until I have got well past it, and am certain that there is demonstrable +falsehood in it. I believe, therefore, all my blame to be wholly trust-worthy, +having never yet had occasion to repent of one depreciatory +word that I have ever written, while I have often found that, with respect +to things I had not time to study closely, I was led too far by sudden +admiration, helped, perhaps, by peculiar associations, or other deceptive +accidents; and this the more, because I never care to check an expression +of delight, thinking the chances are, that, even if mistaken, it will do +more good than harm; but I weigh every word of blame with scrupulous +caution. I have sometimes erased a strong passage of blame from second +editions of my books; but this was only when I found it offended the +reader without convincing him, never because I repented of it myself.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_80" href="#FnAnchor_80">[80]</a> Large line engravings, I mean, in which the lines, as such, are conspicuous. +Small vignettes in line are often beautiful in figures no less +than landscape; as, for instance, those from Stothard's drawings in +Rogers's Italy; and, therefore, I have just recommended the vignettes to +Tennyson to be done by line engraving.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_81" href="#FnAnchor_81">[81]</a> Chapman's, if not the original.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_82" href="#FnAnchor_82">[82]</a> Gary's or Cayley's, if not the original. I do not know which are the +best translations of Plato. Herodotus and Æschylus can only be read in +the original. It may seem strange that I name books like these for +"beginners:" but all the greatest books contain food for all ages; and an +intelligent and rightly bred youth or girl ought to enjoy much, even in +Plato, by the time they are fifteen or sixteen.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30325 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30325-h/images/img005.jpg b/30325-h/images/img005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..89526e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img005.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img009.jpg b/30325-h/images/img009.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e008017 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img009.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img014.jpg b/30325-h/images/img014.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc6ead5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img014.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img017.jpg b/30325-h/images/img017.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d9f2bb --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img017.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img025.jpg b/30325-h/images/img025.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..68f442e --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img025.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img043.jpg b/30325-h/images/img043.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63cff20 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img043.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img044.jpg b/30325-h/images/img044.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b41fd3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img044.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img045.jpg b/30325-h/images/img045.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f14283d --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img045.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img047.jpg b/30325-h/images/img047.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..deb3f5e --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img047.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img055.jpg b/30325-h/images/img055.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7ab65e --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img055.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img056.jpg b/30325-h/images/img056.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d287490 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img056.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img058.jpg b/30325-h/images/img058.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd172b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img058.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img060.jpg b/30325-h/images/img060.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e2df8f --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img060.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img061.jpg b/30325-h/images/img061.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5aba406 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img061.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img062.jpg b/30325-h/images/img062.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d8ada9 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img062.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img063.jpg b/30325-h/images/img063.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..070dae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img063.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img067.jpg b/30325-h/images/img067.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ea735f --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img067.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img068a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img068a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad51bcd --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img068a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img068b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img068b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7063b3b --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img068b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img070.jpg b/30325-h/images/img070.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28874cf --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img070.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img080.jpg b/30325-h/images/img080.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d2bcc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img080.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img081.jpg b/30325-h/images/img081.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddbf26d --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img081.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img088.jpg b/30325-h/images/img088.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a51e14f --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img088.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img089a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img089a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c5b0f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img089a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img089b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img089b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77261ad --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img089b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img095.jpg b/30325-h/images/img095.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be94da --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img095.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img096.jpg b/30325-h/images/img096.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a916b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img096.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img097.jpg b/30325-h/images/img097.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..07869fb --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img097.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img115.jpg b/30325-h/images/img115.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a091134 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img115.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img131.jpg b/30325-h/images/img131.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..731cc80 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img131.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img135.jpg b/30325-h/images/img135.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b41ad3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img135.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img136a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img136a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bbf8e0b --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img136a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img136b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img136b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c461901 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img136b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img137.jpg b/30325-h/images/img137.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c471f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img137.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img141.jpg b/30325-h/images/img141.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a26b9cd --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img141.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img145.jpg b/30325-h/images/img145.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19ef04f --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img145.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img147.jpg b/30325-h/images/img147.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a7b006 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img147.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img148.jpg b/30325-h/images/img148.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..10e85b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img148.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img149a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img149a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed0380f --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img149a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img149b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img149b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee666b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img149b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img150a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img150a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..105dd2b --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img150a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img150b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img150b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..910d2f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img150b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img152a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img152a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a17da08 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img152a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img152b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img152b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70e2de5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img152b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img153a.jpg b/30325-h/images/img153a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f5b894 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img153a.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img153b.jpg b/30325-h/images/img153b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..95d71f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img153b.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img154.jpg b/30325-h/images/img154.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6019d1e --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img154.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img155.jpg b/30325-h/images/img155.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d323825 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img155.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img157.jpg b/30325-h/images/img157.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6bb6adf --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img157.jpg diff --git a/30325-h/images/img164.jpg b/30325-h/images/img164.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d19f676 --- /dev/null +++ b/30325-h/images/img164.jpg |
