were by their colors only, we would
scarcely in places distinguish the boughs of a tree from the air beyond
them, or the ground beneath them. I know that people unpractised in art
will not believe this at first; but if they have accurate powers of
observation, they may soon ascertain it for themselves; they will find
that, while they can scarcely ever determine the _exact_ hue of
anything, except when it occurs in large masses, as in a green field or
the blue sky, the form, as told by light and shade, is always decided
and evident, and the source of the chief character of every object.
Light and shade indeed so completely conquer the distinctions of local
color, that the difference in hue between the illumined parts of a white
and black object is not so great as the difference (in sunshine) between
the illumined and dark side of either separately.

Sec. 9. Recapitulation.

We shall see hereafter, in considering ideas of beauty, that color, even
as a source of pleasure, is feeble compared to form; but this we cannot
insist upon at present; we have only to do with simple truth, and the
observations we have made are sufficient to prove that the artist who
sacrifices or forgets a truth of form in the pursuit of a truth of
color, sacrifices what is definite to what is uncertain, and what is
essential to what is accidental.

CHAPTER VI.

RECAPITULATION.

Sec. 1. The importance of historical truths.

It ought farther to be observed respecting truths in general, that those
are always most valuable which are most historical, that is, which tell
us most about the past and future states of the object to which they
belong. In a tree, for instance, it is more important to give the
appearance of energy and elasticity in the limbs which is indicative of
growth and life, than any particular character of leaf, or texture of
bough. It is more important that we should feel that the uppermost
sprays are creeping higher and higher into the sky, and be impressed
with the current of life and motion which is animating every fibre, than
that we should know the exact pitch of relief with which those fibres
are thrown out against the sky. For the first truths tell us tales about
the tree, about what it has been, and will be, while the last are
characteristic of it only in its present state, and are in no way
talkative about themselves. Talkative facts are always more