With the most lifelike
reproduction, there is no illusion. I think if a semi-obscurity were
thrown over the picture after finishing it to this nicety, it might bring
it nearer to nature. I remember a heap of autumn leaves, every one of
which seems to have been stiffened with gum and varnish, and then put
carefully down into the stiffly disordered heap. Perhaps these artists
may hereafter succeed in combining the truth of detail with a broader and
higher truth. Coming from such a depth as their pictures do, and having
really an idea as the seed of them, it is strange that they should look
like the most made-up things imaginable. One picture by Hunt that
greatly interested me was of some sheep that had gone astray among
heights and precipices, and I could have looked all day at these poor,
lost creatures,--so true was their meek alarm and hopeless bewilderment,
their huddling together, without the slightest confidence of mutual help;
all that the courage and wisdom of the bravest and wisest of them could
do being to bleat, and only a few having spirits enough even for this.
After going through these modern masters, among whom were some French
painters who do not interest me at all, I did a miscellaneous business,
chiefly among the water-colors and photographs, and afterwards among the
antiquities and works of ornamental art. I have forgotten what I saw,
except the breastplate and helmet of Henry of Navarre, of steel, engraved
with designs that have been half obliterated by scrubbing.
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