The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1899-08-20

mat famous. SOUNDS Ike hlpiinB OF hoPc l
or Ebers. And to, think I've been rackins
my brains for 1t all this time. But 1t took
the goddess TO find the name" dofing his
cap. 1.-The Copper Temple! Why. I never
heard anything so ht."
II know what you mean" she answered,
nodding deiightedly. 1.-The red clay terraces
down below. All. there's color there. I've
often tried TO paint II. but have always
failed. Not enough line and form. but the
color is glorious"
1T Is just the color of your eyes," he said
slowly, but nothing God ever made is half
so beautiful as they" 1t was impossible TO
help II. He was as helpless to control bis
voice as to control his thoughts. Tn beauti-
full woman at his side looked at him gently
with no suspicion of incredulity or reproach.
She looked at him even kindly. but a wide
impersonal kindness that Gained while 1t
delighted him.
Would you like to see my homer" she
asked at length. irrelevantly. and without
waiting for him to reply she turned and
led the way. Lorrimer had thought they
were already near the crest of the hill. but
he found himself following silently up
farther and higher till they reached an open
level lane and the appearance of fences and
orchard trees indicated the proximity OF
farm life. He had thought, too, that be-
cause she was without a head covering Of
any kind they must be near her home. But
this dark, strong woman was not like pale
city-bred Marie. She absorbed the warm
sun when 1T fell upon her with apparent de-
light. And the fences and the orchard trees
were not their destination. 1t was not un-
til they had passed all these and reached a
little wooded knoll beyond that the Goddess
paused and spoke.
Are you a real artist?" she said, then
without preliminary, gazing at him as If to
prove his answer by his soul. Three months
earlier he would have answered, Eyes, 1
hope So" or Il mean to be-" or some other
equally hopeful sentiment. But now In the
presence Of the Copper Temple. which
through long quiet hours had instilled into
his mind the instinct of worship, and of the
woman who had taught him discomfort, he
hesitated and answered sadly, 81 do not
know"
If 1t was strange that they two who had
seen each other but twice, and who did not
know each others names. should be stand
ing together in the shadow of the wood
speaking 81 holy things. it was no less
strange that Lorrimer from that moment
spoke with the sense of his companions
physical beauty entirely subordinated to the
charm Of her purity.
Il do not know" he repeated dejectedly;
II used to think So"
Then said she, II think you are. If I did
not think So, but 1 think you are, and
you will be amused when I tell you why.
L think you are a real artist because you
have painted nothing since you came here"
1T does sound rather paradoxical,' he
assented. smiling, but / nave faith that
you mean something by it,"
Thank you; 1 do. 1 mean that real art
lies not In the painting. but in the loving of
what one Sees"
But what about the pictures? There
would be no more pictures"
There would be the original picture"
THE world? Yes. but that is a confusion
OF objective and subjective. You and / and
all the painters would be in the picture"
Yes. would it not be beautiful naively.
One figure in it," he agreed devoutly,
holding her gaze with bright eyes. "Ah, you
don't know how beautiful you are!"
Yes. I know exactly and 1 am thankful
for what beauty / have. But that is not in
the-picture."
Forgive me-"
There is nothing to forgive. 1 am glad
you think / am beautiful, and l see no harm
in your saying so. 1t does not alter my ap-
pearance for better or worse, and it does
not affect me in any way. who am not my
body. But you do not answer my argu-
ment."
I'm afraid / didn't follow you exactly"
apologized Lorrimer, pulling himself to-
gether with an effort.
Il suppose / was rather vague. 1t is easy
To feel things h1f hard ~ email lo6,;x1Ix.
What 1 mean is. that If all the artists loved
the original models well enough to stop con-
tent with them there would be fewer pic
lures and better art"
And what is your definition of art?"
ITO us-no, not US, but to the world in
general, art is humanity at second hand"
And nature?"
Il do not separate the two. They claim
that pictures teach a love for the beautiful.
But really all they teach is love for pic
lures. All the departments of the aesthetic,
the sublime, the beautiful, the ~ugly-they
claim 1t is all the symbolism Of a universal
significance. But they love the symbolism
and not the significance. Lover she re-
peated, with a thrill that set Lorrimer's
pulses stirring, IF they loved the original
humanity enoughi If artists delighted in
the objects they copy instead of their poor
inanimate representations, then art would
be humanity"
AT first hand?'
AT first hand"
But you paint pictures yourself"
"Ah, yes" she sighed: but I don't paint
because / like to paint supremely. I'm not
like that woman in the song who sang be-
cause she loved to sing. / paint because /
cannot love the things / see enough to let
them alone. / must he about copying
them-setting them to by personal mood.
But If / could love il all enough"-with a
gesture that swept earth and sky and Lor-
rimer himself-"I would not paint. Did you
never feel that you could not love things
enough-oil things-the scene you paint. the
face you paint. each object that appeals to
YOU? You are in a frenzy until you nave
painted it your best. Then you are relieved
from the frenzy for a time. but do you love
your model better then? You love it less"
But perhaps 1 have made others love it
more" protested Lorrimer.
You have nothing to do with other peo-
/ pies duty until you do your own. Duty be-
gins with the individual. If you had put the
time spent on painting a picture in confer
ring some direct benefit upon the original
model that inspired you. if a Landscape. then