ow shut you from the true
sky, and illumined you with a vision; your telescope leads you to the
sky, but darkens its light, and reveals nebula beyond nebula, far and
farther, and to no conceivable farthest--unresolvable. That is what the
mystery means.

180. Next, what does that Greek opposition of black and white mean?

In the sweet crystalline time of colour, the painters, whether on glass
or canvas, employed intricate patterns, in order to mingle hues
beautifully with each other, and make one perfect melody of them all.
But in the great naturalist school, they like their patterns to come in
the Greek way, dashed dark on light,--gleaming light out of dark. That
means also that the world round them has again returned to the Greek
conviction, that all nature, especially human nature, is not entirely
melodious nor luminous; but a barred and broken thing: that saints have
their foibles, sinners their forces; that the most luminous virtue is
often only a flash, and the blackest-looking fault is sometimes only a
stain: and, without confusing in the least black with white, they can
forgive, or even take delight in things that are like the [Greek:
nebris], dappled.

181. You have then--first, mystery. Secondly, opposition of dark and
light. Then, lastly, whatever truth of form the dark and light can show.

That is to say, truth altogether, and resignation to it, and quiet
resolve to make the best of it. And therefore portraiture of living men,
women, and children,--no more of saints, cherubs, or demons. So here I
have brought for your standards of perfect art, a little maiden of the
Strozzi family, with her dog, by Titian; and a little princess of the
house of Savoy, by Vandyke; and Charles the Fifth, by Titian; and a
queen, by Velasquez; and an English girl in a brocaded gown, by
Reynolds; and an English physician in his plain coat, and wig, by
Reynolds: and if you do not like them, I cannot help myself, for I can
find nothing better for you.

182. Better?--I must pause at the word. Nothing stronger, certainly, nor
so strong. Nothing so wonderful, so inimitable, so keen in unprejudiced
and unbiassed sight.

Yet better, perhaps, the sight that was guided by a sacred will; the
power that could be taught to weaker hands; the work that was faultless,
though not inimitable, bright with felicity of heart, and consummate in
a disciplined and companionable skill. You will find, when I can place
in your hands the notes o