THE ARTIST OF THE BEAUTIFUL.docx

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THE ARTIST OF THE BEAUTIFUL.docx

THEARTISTOFTHEBEAUTIFUL

 

THEARTISTOFTHEBEAUTIFUL

 

Anelderlyman,withhisprettydaughteronhisarm,waspassing

alongthestreet,andemergedfromthegloomofthecloudy

eveningintothelightthatfellacrossthepavementfromthe

windowofasmallshop.Itwasaprojectingwindow;andonthe

insideweresuspendedavarietyofwatches,pinchbeck,silver,

andoneortwoofgold,allwiththeirfacesturnedfromthe

streets,asifchurlishlydisinclinedtoinformthewayfarers

whato'clockitwas.Seatedwithintheshop,sidelongtothe

windowwithhispalefacebentearnestlyoversomedelicatepiece

ofmechanismonwhichwasthrowntheconcentratedlustreofa

shadelamp,appearedayoungman.

 

"WhatcanOwenWarlandbeabout?

"mutteredoldPeterHovenden,

himselfaretiredwatchmaker,andtheformermasterofthissame

youngmanwhoseoccupationhewasnowwonderingat."Whatcanthe

fellowbeabout?

ThesesixmonthspastIhavenevercomebyhis

shopwithoutseeinghimjustassteadilyatworkasnow.Itwould

beaflightbeyondhisusualfoolerytoseekfortheperpetual

motion;andyetIknowenoughofmyoldbusinesstobecertain

thatwhatheisnowsobusywithisnopartofthemachineryofa

watch."

 

"Perhaps,father,"saidAnnie,withoutshowingmuchinterestin

thequestion,"Owenisinventinganewkindoftimekeeper.Iam

surehehasingenuityenough."

 

"Poh,child!

Hehasnotthesortofingenuitytoinventanything

betterthanaDutchtoy,"answeredherfather,whohadformerly

beenputtomuchvexationbyOwenWarland'sirregulargenius."A

plagueonsuchingenuity!

AlltheeffectthateverIknewofit

wastospoiltheaccuracyofsomeofthebestwatchesinmyshop.

Hewouldturnthesunoutofitsorbitandderangethewhole

courseoftime,if,asIsaidbefore,hisingenuitycouldgrasp

anythingbiggerthanachild'stoy!

"

 

"Hush,father!

Hehearsyou!

"whisperedAnnie,pressingtheold

man'sarm."Hisearsareasdelicateashisfeelings;andyou

knowhoweasilydisturbedtheyare.Doletusmoveon."

 

SoPeterHovendenandhisdaughterAnnieploddedonwithout

furtherconversation,untilinaby-streetofthetowntheyfound

themselvespassingtheopendoorofablacksmith'sshop.Within

wasseentheforge,nowblazingupandilluminatingthehighand

duskyroof,andnowconfiningitslustretoanarrowprecinctof

thecoal-strewnfloor,accordingasthebreathofthebellowswas

puffedforthoragaininhaledintoitsvastleathernlungs.In

theintervalsofbrightnessitwaseasytodistinguishobjectsin

remotecornersoftheshopandthehorseshoesthathunguponthe

wall;inthemomentarygloomthefireseemedtobeglimmering

amidstthevaguenessofunenclosedspace.Movingaboutinthis

redglareandalternateduskwasthefigureoftheblacksmith,

wellworthytobeviewedinsopicturesqueanaspectoflightand

shade,wherethebrightblazestruggledwiththeblacknight,as

ifeachwouldhavesnatchedhiscomelystrengthfromtheother.

Anonhedrewawhite-hotbarofironfromthecoals,laiditon

theanvil,upliftedhisarmofmight,andwassoonenvelopedin

themyriadsofsparkswhichthestrokesofhishammerscattered

intothesurroundinggloom.

 

"Now,thatisapleasantsight,"saidtheoldwatchmaker."Iknow

whatitistoworkingold;butgivemetheworkerinironafter

allissaidanddone.Hespendshislaboruponareality.What

sayyou,daughterAnnie?

"

 

"Praydon'tspeaksoloud,father,"whisperedAnnie,"Robert

Danforthwillhearyou."

 

"Andwhatifheshouldhearme?

"saidPeterHovenden."Isay

again,itisagoodandawholesomethingtodependuponmain

strengthandreality,andtoearnone'sbreadwiththebareand

brawnyarmofablacksmith.Awatchmakergetshisbrainpuzzled

byhiswheelswithinawheel,orloseshishealthorthenicety

ofhiseyesight,aswasmycase,andfindshimselfatmiddleage,

oralittleafter,pastlaborathisowntradeandfitfor

nothingelse,yettoopoortoliveathisease.SoIsayonce

again,givememainstrengthformymoney.Andthen,howittakes

thenonsenseoutofaman!

Didyoueverhearofablacksmith

beingsuchafoolasOwenWarlandyonder?

"

 

"Wellsaid,uncleHovenden!

"shoutedRobertDanforthfromthe

forge,inafull,deep,merryvoice,thatmadetheroofre-echo.

"AndwhatsaysMissAnnietothatdoctrine?

She,Isuppose,will

thinkitagenteelerbusinesstotinkerupalady'swatchthanto

forgeahorseshoeormakeagridiron."

 

Anniedrewherfatheronwardwithoutgivinghimtimeforreply.

 

ButwemustreturntoOwenWarland'sshop,andspendmore

meditationuponhishistoryandcharacterthaneitherPeter

Hovenden,orprobablyhisdaughterAnnie,orOwen'sold

school-fellow,RobertDanforth,wouldhavethoughtduetoso

slightasubject.Fromthetimethathislittlefingersc

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