r energy of light; and, practically, it follows from what I have just
told you--(that every light in painting is a shadow to higher lights,
and every shadow a light to lower shadows)--that also every _colour_ in
painting must be a shadow to some brighter colour, and a light to some
darker one--all the while being a positive colour itself. And the great
splendour of the Venetian school arises from their having seen and held
from the beginning this great fact--that shadow is as much colour as
light, often much more. In Titian's fullest red the lights are pale
rose-colour, passing into white--the shadows warm deep crimson. In
Veronese's most splendid orange, the lights are pale, the shadows crocus
colour; and so on. In nature, dark sides if seen by reflected lights,
are almost always fuller or warmer in colour than the lights; and the
practice of the Bolognese and Roman schools, in drawing their shadows
always dark and cold, is false from the beginning, and renders perfect
painting for ever impossible in those schools, and to all who follow
them.
135. Every visible space, then, be it dark or light, is a space of
colour of some kind, or of black or white. And you have to enclose it
with a true outline, and to paint it with its true colour.
But before considering how we are to draw this enclosing line, I must
state to you something about the use of lines in general, by different
schools.
I said just now that there was no difference between the masses of
colour of which all visible nature is composed, except in _texture_. Now
textures are principally of three kinds:--
(1) Lustrous, as of water and glass.
(2) Bloomy, or velvety, as of a rose-leaf or peach.
(3) Linear, produced by filaments or threads as in feathers, fur,
hair, and woven or reticulated tissues.
All these three sources of pleasure to the eye in texture are united in
the best ornamental work. A fine picture by Fra Angelico, or a fine
illuminated page of missal, has large spaces of gold, partly burnished
and lustrous, partly dead;--some of it chased and enriched with linear
texture, and mingled with imposed or inlaid colours, soft in bloom like
that of the rose-leaf. But many schools of art affect for the most part
one kind of texture only, and a vast quantity of the art of all ages
depends for great part of its power on texture produced by multitudinous
lines. Thus, wood engraving, line engraving properly so called, and
countl
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