tantly touched by it to the
heart, and mistake their own pleasurable feeling for the result of the
painter's power. Thus when, by spotting and splashing, such a painter as
Constable reminds them somewhat of wet grass and green leaves, forthwith
they fancy themselves in all the happiness of a meadow walk; and when
Gaspar Poussin throws out his yellow horizon with black hills, forthwith
they are touched as by the solemnity of a real Italian twilight,
altogether forgetting that wet grass and twilight do not constitute the
universe; and prevented by their joy at being pleasantly cool, or
gravely warm, from seeking any of those more precious truths which
cannot be caught by momentary sensation, but must be thoughtfully
pursued.

Sec. 7. I say "more precious," for the simple fact that the sky is brighter
than the earth is _not_ a precious truth unless the earth itself be
first understood. Despise the earth, or slander it; fix your eyes on its
gloom, and forget its loveliness; and we do not thank you for your
languid or despairing perception of brightness in heaven. But rise up
actively on the earth,--learn what there is in it, know its color and
form, and the full measure and make of it, and if _after that_ you can
say "heaven is bright," it will be a precious truth, but not till then.
Giovanni Bellini knows the earth well, paints it to the full, and to the
smallest fig-leaf and falling flower,--blue hill and white-walled
city,--glittering robe and golden hair; to each he will give its lustre
and loveliness; and then, so far as with his poor human lips he may
declare it, far beyond all these, he proclaims that "heaven is bright."
But Gaspar, and such other landscapists, painting all Nature's flowery
ground as one barrenness, and all her fair foliage as one blackness, and
all her exquisite forms as one bluntness; when, in this sluggard gloom
and sullen treachery of heart, they mutter their miserable attestation
to what others had long ago discerned for them,--the sky's
brightness,--we do not thank them; or thank them only in so far as, even
in uttering this last remnant of truth, they are more commendable than
those who have sunk from apathy to atheism, and declare, in their dark
and hopeless backgrounds, that heaven is NOT bright.

Sec. 8. Let us next ascertain what are the colors of the earth itself.

A mountain five or six miles off, in a sunny summer morning in
Switzerland, will commonly present itself in some such pitch