w you will see in these
studies that the moment the white is inclosed properly, and harmonized
with the other hues, it becomes somehow more precious and pearly than
the white paper; and that I am not afraid to leave a whole field of
untreated white paper all round it, being sure that even the little
diamonds in the round window will tell as jewels, if they are gradated
justly.
Again, there is not a touch of black in any shadow, however deep, of
these two studies; so that, if I chose to put a piece of black near
them, it would be conspicuous with a vengeance.
But in this vignette, copied from Turner, you have the two principles
brought out perfectly. You have the white of foaming water, of
buildings and clouds, brought out brilliantly from a white ground; and
though part of the subject is in deep shadow the eye at once catches
the one black point admitted in front.
74. Well, the first reason that I gave you these Loire drawings was
this of their infallible decision; the second was their extreme
modesty in color. They are, beyond all other works that I know
existing, dependent for their effect on low, subdued tones; their
favorite choice in time of day being either dawn or twilight, and even
their brightest sunsets produced chiefly out of gray paper. This last,
the loveliest of all, gives the warmth of a summer twilight with a
tinge of color on the gray paper so slight that it may be a question
with some of you whether any is there. And I must beg you to observe,
and receive as a rule without any exception, that whether color be gay
or sad the value of it depends never on violence, but always on
subtlety. It may be that a great colorist will use his utmost force of
color, as a singer his full power of voice; but, loud or low, the
virtue is in both cases always in refinement, never in loudness. The
west window of Chartres is bedropped with crimson deeper than blood;
but it is as soft as it is deep, and as quiet as the light of dawn.
75. I say, "whether color be gay or sad." It must, remember, be one or
the other. You know I told you that the pure Gothic school of color
was entirety cheerful; that, as applied to landscape, it assumes that
all nature is lovely, and may be clearly seen; that destruction and
decay are accidents of our present state, never to be thought of
seriously, and, above all things, never to be painted; but that
whatever is orderly, healthy, radiant, fruitful and beautiful, is to
be loved with a
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