Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1895-06-27
A MASTERPIECE
By Elisabeth Pullen.

PHI 5, as he dlQ nearly every uay. III or
der to indulge in quarter hour of home
sickness for the paradise of art from
which he had been eXiled by means of
a rich legacy. When one falls heir to
the estate of childless uncle worth sew
eral millions it deprives him of the deli
cious makeshifts and economies and ex-
cursions of the guild of painters. 1t has
been said that champagne tastes and
beer income are cause OF mlserles.
But an income which seems to constraln
to champagne all the time might prove
equally oppressive. 1ngraham was con-
sciouS that the men who had worked be-
side him in a certain famous studio III
Paris, now that he was rich. tried very
hard to treat him in the old cordial way.
But he felt the patronage of art toward
money, which is loftier than that OF
money toward art.
That morning he spied at Goupirs
photograph of moderate dimensions.
landscape signed by a former fellow
stduent of his, Victor FOrsythe. Their
friendship had continued, but pallidly
and internationally. Forsythe had mar
ried; the wife was said to be 4 very nice
girl, but not at all of the smart set. In
graham had sent Il rather expensive we'd
ding gift and had meant to pay 4 visit.
Then he heard that the Forsythes were
out of town for the summer. Evidently
the artist had profted by his vacation;
a work of rare quality. 1t was river
side meadow, with a clump of willows;
the stream had shadowy depths and
luminous eddies; some sheep were pastur-
ing in the foreground. Nothing could be
more simple and serene than this idylllc
landscape-yet Ingrahams first impress
sion was Of something grandiose. After
a moment this quality Disappeared; but if
he turned away his gaze and then looked
afresh at the picture it always made the
same effect upon him. He decided that 1T
was something about the background;
there were vague, large curves, perhaps
of cloud or Of distant hills: at all events,
they were extraordinarily imposing in
their faint and tenuous suggestions of
immensely.
''There is one vulgar consolation re-
served for the boudholder," said Ingra-
ham humbly to himself, .'He can buy
what pleases him and at the same time
encourage art"
He at once decided to lunch at al
italian restaurant frequented by the
painter clique who liked to recall the
impressions of a sketching tour that
they had once made in body to Rome
and to talk of the coloring of the great
Campagna, the unspeakable grandeur
of the ruins, the good taste Of the
WlIoS Ol Tie country, WHICH lucy uIduh
under the vine trellises of little osteria.
AS Ingraham entered the restaurant he
saw Forsythe quite alone at table. He
crossed the room and greeted him.
IF you are not expecting anyone. For
sythe, will you lunch with me? This is
rather like sora Clelia's, isn't it?''
"a fair imitation. But we miss the
fellow with the guitar and worthy old
Clelia, who would sometimes bring a
dish with her own hands in order to say
to us good appetite, my children.
"Ah! the dear old sora Clelia!'
They mingled "reminiscences until it
appeared to Ingraham that it would not
gin to talk about the painting that he
"!s Forsy yf e"y he said, 81 have Just seen
at Goupil's the photograph of a most re-
markable picture of yours. 1t is wonder
full, beyond praise. You have struck a
new manner, and your tlrst manner was
the despair of the rest of us. But this
landscape is great. Let me say plainly,
and get over the crudeness of the situa-
ton, that [ want to buy the original.
They said at Goupirs that they had not
seen it, and did not know whether it
was sold or not If it is [ shall try to
get it away from it's present owner.
must have it at any price"
Il am glad that you like the painting.
But the original is not for sale"
Indeed, | cannot wonder that you are
in love with it yourself and wish to keep
it. But could you let me have repllca?'
Possibly"
"You would have no objection to copy
ing it for me on another canvas"
las you say"
Ingraham drew out his check book,
signed a page, tore it off and handed it
to Forsythe.
"Oh, carte blanche is too much" pro-
tested the artist.
TOO little, by Jove! I want that land
scape. I have ordered one of the photo
graphs framed and sent to my rooms;
but, of course, it must lack the touch
and the colors of the real thing-the sill
yer green of the willows, the olive
depths and the amber lights of the
water, the blue of the marsh lilies and
of the heavens above them
L painted it in monochrome"
But you hit the values marvelously.
What was the tint?"
We'll, kind of reddish brown"
Not sepia?''
NO.
Burnt sienna?"
Not exactly"
'Umber?'
''Well, hardly
''All right, the coloring is your little
secret. But have not yet spoken of the
real wonder of your work. Forsythe. Will
been seen before now. But there's more
to it than that You have painted in
there some great dim curves. They are |
more than human: they are titanic. as if |
you had seen for one inspired moment the |
great cal th-mother herself behind her crea- /
ton something, as Swinburn says: The |
solemn slope Of mighty limbs asleep |
am bound to admit, however. that now
you see it and now you don't" noted the |
rich man, ashamed to be caught in a |
Forsythe. that picture is like glimpse
into the morning of the world, the prime |
val myths
Whereupon the artist laughed gayly, |
filed out the check with very moderate |
figures and handed it back to Ingraham
you shall have the replica. my dear fol |
low: but 1 don't take the money before |
hand. Thank you for all the nice things |