ever working for the sake of realization; the
amount of realization actually reached depending on his space, his
materials, and the nature of the thoughts he wishes to suggest. In the
sculpture of an oak-tree, introduced above an Adoration of the Magi on
the tomb of the Doge Marco Dolfino (fourteenth century), the sculptor
has been content with a few leaves, a single acorn, and a bird; while,
on the other hand, Millais' willow-tree with the robin, in the
background of his "Ophelia," or the foreground of Hunt's "Two Gentlemen
of Verona," carries the appeal to the imagination into particulars so
multiplied and minute, that the work nearly reaches realization. But it
does not matter how near realization the work may approach in its
fulness, or how far off it may remain in its slightness, so long as
realization is not the end proposed, but the informing one spirit of the
thoughts of another. And in this greatness and simplicity of purpose all
noble art is alike, however slight its means, or however perfect, from
the rudest mosaics of St. Mark's to the most tender finishing of the
"Huguenot" or the "Ophelia."

Sec. XXVII. Only observe, in this matter, that a greater degree of
realization is often allowed, for the sake of color, than would be right
without it. For there is not any distinction between the artists of the
inferior and the nobler schools more definite than this; that the first
_color for the sake of realization_, and the second _realize for the
sake of color_. I hope that, in the fifth chapter, enough has been said
to show the nobility of color, though it is a subject on which I would
fain enlarge whenever I approach it: for there is none that needs more
to be insisted upon, chiefly on account of the opposition of the persons
who have no eye for color, and who, being therefore unable to understand
that it is just as divine and distinct in its power as music (only
infinitely more varied in its harmonies), talk of it as if it were
inferior and servile with respect to the other powers of art;[53]
whereas it is so far from being this, that wherever it enters it must
take the mastery, and, whatever else is sacrificed for its sake, _it_,
at least, must be right. This is partly the case even with music: it is
at our choice, whether we will accompany a poem with music, or not; but,
if we do, the music _must_ be right, and neither discordant nor
inexpressive. The goodness and sweetness of the poem cannot save it, if
the m