The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1877-02-15
Five Hundred Thousand Dollars

rive Hundred Thousand Dollars.
There is no doubt that | was a lion.
was made to feel it wherever | went. Peo-
| pie nudged each other in passing me in
the street, and whispered There he is y
Protessed lion-hunters besieged me; my
rooms were deluged with cards; congrat-
ulations, criticism, and counsel We're Of
tered me gratuitously; lady-lile mammas
smiled upon me; beautiful girls looked at
me with interest and admiration in their
innocent eyes; now and then some true
soul spoke words that We're dearer than
gold
Some of this was very pleasant; but
| there We're compensating inconvenience
lmprimis my pockets We're still wCetully
empty, for my works had brought me
| more renown than money, and | was APP
propriating all my funds. as fast as they
accumulated to the payment Of debts con-
tracted in less promising times. | longed
TO lit that weight from my shoulders. Ar
fists do not borrow their tints from the
hues of earth and SKY, and canvas and
brushes are coarse, material things, that
demand an exchange of filthy lucre. SO
was still forced to work away as hard as
ever
In consequence. my popularity in socie
tY was somewhat embarrassing, because,
to say nothing of the encroachments upon
my time, etiquette prescribes a respecta-
bic attire. | brushed my best coat clear
through to the lining before | could make
up my mind to discard it; and as for
gloves, every pair | bought cost me an
unutterable pang.
And then-ah, there's the misery OF it !!
1t was ineXpressiuly notifying to be up
on familiar terms with the beautiful young
girls before alluded to, and have all the
time a profound consciousness that the
man in the moon would have been consid-
cred much more eligible suitor than l.
Considering all these things, bore my
self very meekly. | have no doubt | was
thought very modest that I did not roar
louder-such a remarkable lion as | was
| still lived in my third floor, managed my
own very economical housekeeping, and
found the best of my life in my art
But have not told you how attained
my questionable eminence | had pic
ture at the Exhibition of the Royal Acade-
my of Design. 1t was only foaming
waste OF green waters, 4 stretch Of yellow
sand in the foreground a bit Of rocky sea-
wall followed by the waves, dun sky,
with storm-clouds flying wildly before the
wind, and low down in the west break
in the gloom, whence a shaft of lurid light
glancing out, Just touched pale, dead
lace rising ghastly and terrible above the
tempest-drven breakers. This picture was
NOT an outgrowth OF my life. | did not put
my soul into it as had too often done be-
fore. 1t was merely an inspiration of a
morbid fancy flung upon the canvas in u
freak. But it was weird, eccentric, pc
culiar, and took the public by storm. 1t
made me lion.
One evening a solree was given at the
Derby Gallery, and several artists lent
their pictures for the occasion | lent
mine; and there it now hung upon the
wall of the gallery | had refused to sell
it; and thus al this soiree it was among
the foremost attractions
That was gala night, more like a
scene from some fairy tale than a real
event IN this prosaic, working age. State
ly men, and beautiful gifted women stood
in groups before some triumph OF art or
walked about, conversing in low, soft
tones.
Standing not tar from my picture--I
could not help lowering near it with
kind of jealous care-a bevy OF fair girls
passed and stopped before my treasure.
4 am so eager to see this wonderful
picture. You know | was out of town
when ii was exhihited,' said one
looked at the speaker. A face like one
of Iitian's women; hair of warm gold
eyes sunny hazel, limpd as crystal The
small head was thrown back, those strik-
ing eyes coolly fixed upon the picture 1t
was plain the lady thought herself q COM
petent critic
1T IS strange, beautiful thing she
said at last. Il dom! think | wholly like
it-but--'
oh, Miss Nandermeyer = cried the rest
in chorus.
4 must buy it, think
Very cool, young lady thought. She
surveyed it still more critically-this girl
OF twenty summers.
1T is too morbid in its tone; but have
nook at home where it will Just iit-my
chamber of horrors call it. You can see
ghost at midday any time, if you like.
Who is the artist? Can't somebody find
him for me?' with the air of duchess.
There was a furtive looking about, then
buzzing whisper, and Miss Wander
meyer turned her eyes upon me. In mo-
ment she was before me.
Mr. Delatield | would like to buy your
picture
4 don't wish to sell it, replied, coldly
She made an impatient gesture-just
little saucy wave of the hand.
i want to buy it. How much do you
ask 2?
The gold-brown eyes were fixed upon
my face with a quiet audacity that amazed
me. | named sum that meant should
starte her.
Twenty-Five hundred dollars
Very well. l will send my servant in
the morning to take it down.
| started
Miss Vandermeyer, don't wish to sell
my picture For the first time she seemed
to comprehend me.
Don't wish to sell it, What did you
paint it for? | thought artists painted
their pictures to sell her eyes sparkling
as she spoke.
'All artists are not alike said, sharp
ly, for | was vexed first at her criticism,
and aiterward at her pertinacty.
She looked at me rather curiously, as if
| We're some phenomenon.
Haven't you any more like it in your
head?
Il don't know
i should hope not she said gravely.
why
because it wouldn't be good tor you.
There's something dreadful about it,
Really, Miss Vandermeyer. remarked
sarcastically, you are peculiar. l don't
understand why you should want the pic.
ture'
Il want it because in some moods like
to look at such things
| reflected moment.
Can you afford to give twenty five hun
dred dollars to indulge mood?'
If please, she said, with little saucy
shrug of her shoulders.
Very we'll | will sell it to you then,'
her eyes gleamed-'upon condition that
if choose, may some day buy it back
Il knew you would sell it to me, she
said, with an air of triumph. You'll new
Ell want to buy it back
tWhy nOt?'