people have any idea that sunlighted grass is
yellow.

Now, a highly accomplished artist has always reduced himself as nearly
as possible to this condition of infantine sight. He sees the colours of
nature exactly as they are, and therefore perceives at once in the
sunlighted grass the precise relation between the two colours that form
its shade and light. To him it does not seem shade and light, but bluish
green barred with gold.

Strive, therefore, first of all, to convince yourself of this great fact
about sight. This, in your hand, which you know by experience and touch
to be a book, is to your eye nothing but a patch of white, variously
gradated and spotted; this other thing near you, which by experience you
know to be a table, is to your eye only a patch of brown, variously
darkened and veined; and so on: and the whole art of Painting consists
merely in perceiving the shape and depth of these patches of colour, and
putting patches of the same size, depth, and shape on canvas. The only
obstacle to the success of painting is, that many of the real colours
are brighter and paler than it is possible to put on canvas: we must put
darker ones to represent them.

[200] Stale crumb of bread is better, if you are making a delicate
drawing, than India-rubber, for it disturbs the surface of the paper
less: but it crumbles about the room and makes a mess; and, besides, you
waste the good bread, which is wrong; and your drawing will not for a
long while be worth the crumbs. So use India-rubber very lightly; or, if
heavily pressing it only, not passing it over the paper, and leave what
pencil marks that will not come away so, without minding them. In a
finished drawing the uneffaced penciling is often serviceable, helping
the general tone, and enabling you to take out little bright lights.

[201] What is usually so much sought after under the term "freedom" is
the character of the drawing of a great master in a hurry, whose hand is
so thoroughly disciplined, that when pressed for time he can let it fly
as it will, and it will not go far wrong. But the hand of a great master
at real _work_ is _never_ free: its swiftest dash is under perfect
government. Paul Veronese or Tintoret could pause within a hair's
breadth of any appointed mark, in their fastest touches; and follow,
within a hair's breadth, the previously intended curve. You must never,
therefore, aim at freedom. It is not required of your drawing that it
should be f