Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1888-06-01
TheStory Of a Masterpiece.
Dy HENRY JAMES. J.
IN TWO PARrS-PARr
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py HENRY JAMES, Js
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PART II.
IN TWO PARrs.-PARr 1

PART II.
One afternoon, when the picture was nearly
finished, John Lennon went into the empty
painting room TO ascertain the degree Of it,
progress. Both Baxter and Marian had ex-
pressed wish that he should not sse IL In its
early stages, and this, accordingly, was his
first view. Half an hour after he had en-
tered the room, Baxter came in, unan-
nounccd, and found him sitting before the
canvas, deep In thought. Baxter had been
furnished with house key, 20 that he might
have immediate and easy access to his work
whenever the humor came upon him.
az was passing" he said, ''and couldn't
resist the Impulse to come In and correct an
error which made this morning, now that
a sense Of its enormity is fresh In my mind"
He sat down to work, and the other stood
watching him
"well," said the painter, finally, chow docs
It satisfy your
"Not altogether
"Pray develop your objections. It's In
your power materially to assist me-"
~ hardly know how to formulate nv OBJ
jections. Let me, at all events, in the FIRST
place, say that I admire your work i'm
mensely. I'm sure it's the best picture you've
painted"
II honestly believe 1t is. Some parts of it,
said Baxter, frankly, "are excellent"
ats obvious. But either those very parts
or Others are singularly disagreeable. That
word isn't criticism, know; but I pay you
for the right to be arbitrary. They are too
hard, too strong, Of too frank reality. In
. word, your picture frightens me, and IL I
were Marian / should feel as IL you'd done
me a certain violence"
'I'm sorry for what's disagreeble; but
meant It Ill TO be real 60 in for reality;
you must have seen that"
II approve you; I can't too much admire
the broad and firm methods you've taken for
reaching this same reality. But you can be
real without being brutal-without attempt
ing, as one may say, to be actual"
~ deny that I'm brutal I'm afraid, Mr.
Lennox, haven't taken quite the right road
to please you I've taken tho picture too
much au seerieuL I've striven too much Tor
completeness. But II it doesn't please you II
will please Others"
"Tve no doubt Of It. But that isn't the
question. The picture is good enough to DO
q thousand times better"
"That the picture leaves room for infinite
improvement, !, Of course, don't deny; and,
in several particulars, see my way to make
it better. But, substantially, the portrait Is
there. I'll tell you what you miss. My work
isn't classical; ; in fine,- I'm not a man Of
genius"
"No; rather suspect you are. But, as
you say, your work isn't classical. I adhere
to my term brutal Shall tell youl It's
Miss Everett tho look Of professional
model"
'lf that's the case I've done very wrong.
There never was an easier, less conscious
sitter. It's delightful to look at her."
"Confound it, you've given all her ease,
too. Well, don't know what's the matter.
give up.r
II think" said Baxter, 'you had better
hold your verdict in allegiance until the pict-
ure is finished. The classical element Is
there, Pm sure; but I've not brought it out.
Wait few days, and it will rise to the sur
face"
Lennox left the artist alone; and the latter
took up his brushes and painted hard till
nightfall He laid them down only when 1t
was too dark to see, As he was going out,
Lennox met him In the hall
"Exegi monumentum," said Baxter; "it's
finished. Go and look at your ease. I'll
come tomorrow and hear your impressions"
The master Of the house, when the other
had gone, Lit half q dozen lights and re-
turned to the study Of tho picture. 1t had
grown prodigiously under the painters re-
cent handling, and whether it was that, a.
Baxter had said, the classical element had
disengaged itself, or that Lennox was in q
more sympathetic mood, 1t now impressed
him as an original and powerful work, a
genuine portrait, the deliberate image Of a
human face and figure. 1t was Marian, In
very truth, and Marian most patiently meas
ured and observed. Her beauty was there,
her sweetness, and her young loveliness and
her aerial grace, imprisoned forever, made IN
violable and perpetual. Nothing could bo
more simple than the conception and COM
position of the picture. The figure sat peace
fully, looking slightly to the right with the
head erect and the hands-the virginia. hands,
without rings or bracelets-lying idle on its
knees. The blonde hair was gathered into q
little knot Of braids on the top Of the
head lin the fashion of the moment),
and left free the almost childish contour
Of the ears and cheeks. The eyes were
full of color, contentment and light; the lips
were family parted. OF color in the picture,
there was, in strictness, very little; but the
dark draperes told Of reflected sunshine, and
the flesh spaces Of human bushes and pallors,
Of throbbing life and health. The work was
strong and simple, the figure was thoroughly
void Of affectation and stiffness, and yet
supremely elegant.
''That's what it is to be an artist" thought
Iennox. "An this has been done in the past
two hours"
It was his Marian, nssuredly, with all that
had charmed him-with all that still charmed
him when he saw her: her appealing conf
dence, her exquisite lightness, her feminine
entertainments. And yet as he looked, an
expression Of pain came into his eyes, and
fingered there, and grew into mortal heavi-
ness.
Lennon had been as truly q lover as man
may be; but he loved with the discretion Of
fifteen years experience Of human affairs.
He had a penetrating glance, and he liked to
use it. Many time when Marian, with elo-
quent lips and eyes, had poured out the treas
ures Of her nature into his bosom, and he had
taken them in his hands and covered them
with kisses and passionate vows; he had
dropped them all with sudden shudder and
cried out in silence, "But ahl where Is the
hearth" One day he had said to her drrele-
vanity enough, doubtless), Marian, where is
your hearth
"where-what do you meanr Miss Everett
had said.
~ think Of you from morning till night
put you together and take you apart, as peo-
pie do In that game where they make words
out Of parcel Of given letters But there's
always one letter wanting. l can't put my
hand on your heart"
my heart, John,n said Marian, ingen-
iously, sis the whole word. My hearts every
where"
This may have been true enough. Miss
Everett had distributed her heart impartially
throughout her whole organism, SO that az a
natural consequence, its native seat was
49, tn,,A