§ 5. I am not sure how far, by any illustration, I can exemplify these
subtle conditions of form. All my plans have been shortened, and I have
learned to content myself with yet more contracted issues of them after
the shortening, because I know that nearly all in such matters must be
said or shown, unavailably. No saying will teach the truth. Nothing but
doing. If the reader will draw boughs of trees long and faithfully,
giving previous pains to gain the power (how rare!) of drawing
_anything_ faithfully, he will come to see what Turner's work is,
or any other right work, but not by reading, nor thinking, nor idly
looking. However, in some degree, even our ordinary instinctive
perception of grace and balance may serve us, if we choose to pay any
accurate attention to the matter.
§ 6. Look back to Fig. 55. That bough of Turner's is exactly and
exquisitely poised, leaves and all, for its present horizontal position.
Turn the book so as to put the spray upright, with the leaves at the
top. You ought to see they would then be wrong;--that they must, in that
position, have adjusted themselves more directly above the main stem,
and more firmly, the curves of the lighter sprays being a deflection
caused by their weight in the horizontal position. Again, Fig. 56
represents, enlarged to four times the size of the original, the two
Scotch firs in Turner's etching of Inverary.[1] These are both in
perfect poise, representing a double action: the warping of the trees
away from the sea-wind, and the continual growing out of the boughs on
the right-hand side, to recover the balance.
Turn the page so as to be horizontal, and you ought to feel that,
considered now as branches, both would be out of balance. If you turn
the heads of the trees to your right, they are wrong, because gravity
would have bent them more downwards; if to your left, wrong, because the
law of resilience would have raised them more at the extremities.
§ 7. Now take two branches of Salvator's, Figs. 57 and 58.[2] You ought
to feel that these have neither poise nor spring: their leaves are
incoherent, ragged, hanging together in decay.
[Illustration: FIG. 57.]
[Illustration: FIG. 58.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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