Mean something, and say something, whenever you touch canvas; yield
neither to the affectation of precision nor of speed, and trust to time,
and your honest labor, to invest your work gradually, in such measure
and kind as your genius can reach, with the tenderness that comes of
love, and the mystery that comes of power.

FOOTNOTES

[26] In the clouds around Mount Sinai, in the picture of the Golden
Calf; the smoke turning into angels, in the Cenacolo in San Giorgio
Maggiore; and several other such instances.

[27] Stanfield I call a definer, as opposed to Copley Fielding,
because, though, like all other moderns, he paints cloud and storm,
he will generally paint all the masts and yards of a ship, rather
than merely her black bows glooming through the foam; and all the
rocks on a hill side, rather than the blue outline of the hill
through the mist.

[28] Compare, if at hand, my letter in the Times of the 5th of May,
1854, on Hunt's Light of the World. I extract the passage bearing
chiefly on the point in question.

"As far as regards the technical qualities of Mr. Hunt's painting, I
would only ask the spectator to observe this difference between true
Pre-Raphaelite work and its imitations. The true work represents all
objects exactly as they would appear in nature, in the position and
at the distances which the arrangement of the picture supposes. The
false work represents them with all their details, as if seen
through a microscope. Examine closely the ivy on the door in Mr.
Hunt's picture, and there will not be found in it a single clear
outline. All is the most exquisite mystery of color; becoming
reality at its due distance. In like manner, examine the small gems
on the robe of the figure. Not one will be made out in form, and yet
there is not one of all those minute points of green color, but it
has two or three distinctly varied shades of green in it, giving its
mysterious value and lustre. The spurious imitations of
Pre-Raphaelite work represent the most minute leaves and other
objects with sharp outlines, but with no variety of color, and with
none of the concealment, none of the infinity of nature."

[29] Travels through the Alps, chap. viii.

[30] Reynolds is usually admired for his dash and speed. His true
merit is in an ineffable subtlety combined with his speed. The
tenderness