DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.3462#0074
46 THE DURBAR
I tear my hair, and think, and think, until I feel I
must go mad. I see it all so clearly : can I not coin
words? Can I not dip my pen in purple and
gold? It was almost like looking at the sun.
Yellow spots danced in front of one's eyes: one
had to turn away into the gray courtyard, and
lose an elephant or two, to get relief. You could
not see the procession in a continuous way as a
whole, because of the blinding colour; but by
treating it almost scientifically, by nursing oneself
to see colour intelligently, one obtained swift, true
impressions of crisp, luminous pictures that burned
deep into one's brain. Most people gazed, and
gazed, and were blinded, exhausted: they lost all
feeling for colour.
This was a scene for Turner. Turner, who
could paint the sun, was the only man to paint
this procession of native rulers. You never seemed
to get the last word in colour. An elephant would
pass covered with cloth of gold and ropes of pearls.
" This is the finest of all," you would say ; " colour
has gone as far as it can go." Then suddenly
another marvellous combination would spring upon
you: a group of elephants in gold, emerald green,
and jewels, looking like bubbles ready to burst with
brilliance, and making the surrounding colours faded
I tear my hair, and think, and think, until I feel I
must go mad. I see it all so clearly : can I not coin
words? Can I not dip my pen in purple and
gold? It was almost like looking at the sun.
Yellow spots danced in front of one's eyes: one
had to turn away into the gray courtyard, and
lose an elephant or two, to get relief. You could
not see the procession in a continuous way as a
whole, because of the blinding colour; but by
treating it almost scientifically, by nursing oneself
to see colour intelligently, one obtained swift, true
impressions of crisp, luminous pictures that burned
deep into one's brain. Most people gazed, and
gazed, and were blinded, exhausted: they lost all
feeling for colour.
This was a scene for Turner. Turner, who
could paint the sun, was the only man to paint
this procession of native rulers. You never seemed
to get the last word in colour. An elephant would
pass covered with cloth of gold and ropes of pearls.
" This is the finest of all," you would say ; " colour
has gone as far as it can go." Then suddenly
another marvellous combination would spring upon
you: a group of elephants in gold, emerald green,
and jewels, looking like bubbles ready to burst with
brilliance, and making the surrounding colours faded