I went into the National Gallery and refreshed myself with a look at the
pictures. One impression I had was of how much more importance the tone
of them is than the actual tint of any part of them. I looked close into
the separate colours and they were all very lovely in their quality--but
the whole colour-effect of a picture then is not very great. It is the
entire result of the picture that is so wonderful. I peered into the
whites to see how they were made, and it is astonishing how little white
there would be in a white dress--none at all, in fact--and yet it looks
white. I went again and looked at the Van Eyck, and saw how clearly the
like of it is not to be done by me. But he had many advantages. For one
thing, he had all his objects in front of him to paint from. A nice,
clean, neat floor of fair boards well scoured, pretty little dogs and
everything. Nothing to bother about but making good portraits--dresses
and all else of exactly the right colour and shade of colour. But the
tone of it is simply marvellous, and the beautiful colour each little
object has, and the skill of it all. He permits himself extreme darkness
though. It's all very well to say it's a purple dress--very dark brown
is more the colour of it. And the black, no words can describe the
blackness of it. But the like of it is not for me to do--can't be--not
to be thought of.
As I walked about there I thought if I had my life all over again, what
would I best like to do in the way of making a new start once more; it
would be to try and paint more like the Italian painters. And that's
rather happy for a man to feel in his last days--to find that he is
still true to his first impulse, and doesn't think he has wasted his
life in wrong directions.
_Burne-Jones._