The Marlboro democrat. [volume] (Bennettsville, S.C.) 1882-1908, 1889-12-20

his ears, deteotel5n sucit employ meut L.
Tho yeljerable,o cure was 4 tonGef-heatto0
good man. When lie was young he
lad lived In cities, and had q taste for
and sOme knowledge of the fine arts.
Petit Pierro's work appeared to him
very remarkable now, and to promise II
most brilliant future The verify
priest was touched with this solitary
pursuit, this unconscious genius that,
t'wastlng its sweetness on the desert
arr ws~ pitiently reproducing the
work Of the Creator.
"My young friend, modesty is q
worthy sentiment, but you need not
| blush in that way. There is no harm
in drawing If onedoes not neglect other
duties. There is a good deal Of merit
in the picture-the trees nre true to
life and tho shrubs each have the leaves
that belong 10 them. You must have
been u close observer before you could
have reproduced anything from what
! you saw-how much more merit to be
able to originate anything"
This was the first encouragement
Petit Pierre ever had; IL gave him tho
first confidence In his genius that was
to be SO great, $50 on, my son." col
tinued the good pastor, ''perhaps you
will be another Giotto. He, like you,
was Il poor shepherd, but acquired 50
much skill that one Of his pictures was
carried in procession by the enthusiasts
tic citizens Of Florence."
During the long winter evenings tho
good priest taught Petit Pierre how to
read and write, tho two keys Of knowl-
edge. The shepherd progressed rapidly,
for no learnt with his heart as we'll as
| with his head.
Another summer rolled around. Petit
Pierre WAS once more abroad with his
sheep, but this summer he had deyel-
oped wonderfully, physically and mon
tally. lie had eaten Of tho troa Of
knowledge under the wise tuition OF
the priest.
The intoxication Of ambition fired
his soul-fortunately Petit Pierre had
no admiring frlonds-neither the troes
nor the rocks could fiatter him. Tho
immensely Of nature that he was con-
stantly brought into contact with
showed him very soon his own little
ness. Furnished by the Cure with all
tho paper and crayons lo wanted, he
made a great number of studies. But
he never saw tho beautiful lady again
save in his dreams; then she always
appeared radiant and encouraging,
saying: "That is well, my friend; per-
severe, and you will have yourrewart."
An event, very simple III itself, which
was destined to affect the whole of
Petit Pierre's life, suddenly uttillo to
pass. ut is always the unexpected
that happens" and nothing could BIO
more SO than the advent OF Il new pict-
ure FOR the little church. Tie painter,
Il rising artist, careful OF his pictures,
attended to tho transportation OF this
II himself, and. after the proper
placing Of the picture, repaired to the
Curo's homo, where tho latter showed
the visitor some OF Petit Pierre's draw
ings. The boy, pale rs death, leaned
heavily against the Stable. pressing his
hand against his heart, for it seemed us
though 1t would burst, then waited III
silence for tho condemnation Of all his
dreams. lie could not imagine Il MAI
so we'll dressed, well-gloved, and with u
knot Of red ribbon i'll his %buttonllole,
the author Of q picture surrounded
with II gold frame, could find any merit
in charcoal sketches on grey paper,
The painter picked up and threw aside
several sketches without saying Il word.
Then the color mounted to his cheeks,
and lie uttered short EXPLANATIONS In
studio phrases.
ellis is glorlousl And this, how
naturall And this, clI'c. t'orOt could
lot 40 better, IEis charcoal skotctl
#HtetlG 3raHe DeiaDerg 'fhis sjeepioe
Z ltrlp. rs IN i'aul POTTER slliel'
Rll:A@br sl~G lhsioiic,! ne pbe, Wtikep
fVNt bQl tstl ltetrr Stttj 5N,N him con,
M tllAiSU, ...O.siAA ~ 10 not considered
very honorable among artists to say so,
L must tell you, my dear boy, you know
moro than all my scholars put together.
Come to Paris with me; IN six months
l will teach you tho details Of manner
and style; then you will be able to
walk alone. II nothing unforeseen hap.
pens, l can predict, wi bout conpro-
missing myself, you will be very success
ful.n
Petit Pierre, we'll warned OF the dan
gers of modern Babylon, left with the
painter, taking Fidele with him. The
painter, with that goodness OF heart
that usually accompanies talent,
thought Il familiar figure would lave a
beneficial effect OIL his pupil amid
strange surroundings. Fidclo. would
not allow himself to be lifted into the
stage, but followed on foot us fast as
hls astonishmcnt would allow. treasured
from time to lime by lis masters face.
1t would be difficult to follow Petit
Pierro's progress. Tho works OF the
great masters, Of whom he m;tle fire.
qucnt copies, were or tue greatest SER
vice to Inn. lie passed from the severe
style Of Poussin to the languisllng OF
Claude Lorraine; from the bold lardi.
hood Of Salvador Rosa to tho mosaic
like detail of Ruysdacl; but he dii no!
adobt any particular style. Originality
was too much a part OF himself. IIt
was no studio painter, who took photo,
graphs or sketches from nature for SIN
weeks III summer to enlarge or finish
them III winter. Petit Plerrc's pictures
seemed impregnated with the aroma O
tho woods; II felt, looking at them,
rs if one had passed into the fores,
through the canvas. The instruction.
Of art had como soon enough to prevent
| hic tolinr "a &rr,nr ,.n,lta IL, 81 viz l,,