The artist's family : a novel

Chapter I

There are some minds which readily sink under disappointment ; whilst others are roused by it to greater efforts. Mr. Ashford belonged to the latter class. The failure of any of his projects invariably engendered in him fresh exertions. He argued that that which seems the greatest calamity, often proves the greatest blessing ; while that which looks the brightest in the present, becomes the darkest in the VOL. II. B future. Whatever may have been his disappointment at the result of his visit to Thirlby Place, he never expressed it to any of his family — not even to his daughter, to whom he generally communicated whatever was upper most in his thoughts. That he did not regret his journey, was evident, from what he did say to her of the happiness he had experienced in finding two old and attached friends — one in the person of his old nurse, Mrs. Jenkyns, and the other in that of Mr. Allbright.

He spoke of that gentleman's liberal offer to adopt her ; but at the same time assured her of his own determination never to part with her as long as he had power to hold a brush. To work he went again with double energy, in the hope of regaining the time he had lost. He allowed no one to approach him but Mary, who was so essential to his success, that her absence generally dulled his spirit, and ren dered him unfit for highly imaginative scenes. Whdst he was thus occupied, his son William was not idle, but busily engaged in seeking employment. He had written to several men n power, explaining his own and his father's situation, and begging for some office, however small the salary, so that it would relieve his father from the burthen of supporting him ; but no one condescended to reply to his appli cation.

He inserted and answered several advertisements, but nothing turned up that wTas at all available. He wrrote several articles on the most interesting subjects of the day, and sent them to the morning papers, in the delusive hope that some editor might be struck with their power, give them insertion, and request an interview with the writer, which might end in a permanent engagement on the journal — he even applied personally, without any introduction, to many of the leading mer chants in the city, but without success — at last his patience was getting exhausted. He had never heard the monosyllable no pronounced with such coldness, indifference, and insult, as he had lately heard it. He could now well understand the heavy weight that single word conveyed to a half expecting heart. On returning home one afternoon from one of his daily expeditions, weary and faint, but not desponding — for he enjoyed the luxury of B youth — and hope never expires in a young heart— he was told that a gentleman, who was very anxious to see him, had been closeted with his father for the last hour.

Great was his pleasure and surprise, on entering his father's studio, to find his hand grasped by Edward Carteret. Cordial was the greeting between the two friends. " I have taken the liberty of introducing, or rather of recalling myself to Mr. Ashford's memory," said Edward Carteret, " and he has received me without frowns or hesitation, both of which I must say I expected and de served." " Nonsense, Ned, you know your name is a passport here — my family are prepared to re ceive and like Ned Carteret as my dearest friend." " Then you have been fibbing, or puffing, Will," said Edward, looking slightly uncom fortable, " and clothing my simple name with undeserved honour; but take care, or I will be even with you, and publish all the wild and foolish frolics you have saved me from. You would hardly believe, Mr. Ashford, that your son was the most sage and serious, yet the most merry fellow our College boasted."

" I can believe anything that is good of him," replied Mr. Ashford. " I assure you my governor looks upon him quite as the preserver of my morals, and con siders him a University Paragon," returned Edward. " Your father is one in a thousand," replied William ; " I owe him much for his kindness, but more for his high opinion. I only wish I deserved it better." " A truce to compliments. We think much too highly of each other to flatter one ano ther; but I say, Will, I was not long after you. I found Oxford deucedly dull when you left, so I persuaded the governor that I required change of scene, and the old boy im mediately consented to take a house in town for the spring ; though I don't think he wanted much pressing, for he was glad of a good excuse to shew his ward, my cousin Isabel, of whom you have heard us speak, some of the gaieties of London.

She has just returned from Vienna, in which gay city she has been spending the mournful months of her widow hood. I think you will like her, Will— I am sure she will like you ; but I am not going to puff her off to you any more than I have praised you to her— come and judge for yourself. I hope you will allow me, Mr. Ashford, to intro duce my father to you ; with your permission, I will bring him any time that you are most at leisure. " I shall feel much honoured by a visit from Sir Edward Carteret," said Mr. Ashford ; " but I fear my house is hardly fit to receive him, just at present." " It is not our friends' houses we go to visit, but themselves," replied Edward ; " my father, Mr. Ashford, is a man who honours genius wherever it is to be found, and I doubt if any one of his acquaintances could give him so great a treat as you have given me this morning."

" I am glad you have been pleased, though my studio is not calculated to exhibit the sublimity of this great work; do not think me vain, Mr. Carteret, but I do call it a great work, though I know there are many who will decry it." " Detraction is the fate of genius, and the effect of envy," replied Edward. " It is too true," returned Mr. Ashford ; " no man ever became renowned without cre ating enemies : " They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them ; And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces." " Unfortunately it is so," replied Edward ; " I have always observed, that when a great man is in adversity, he receives but little pity, and a great deal of vituperation ; and yet I would willingly bear every species of censure which arises from envy, if I had the talent to pro duce such a work as you have here, or even to conceive the meanest sketch in this portfolio, which you have so kindly allowed me to look through."

Mr. Carteret re-commenced turning over the contents of the portfolio, pausing occa sionally, to admire or comment upon some sketch. The susceptible artist was highly gra tified by the opinions and deferential remarks of the young man, which seemed to soothe his irritable spirit. " This is a most exquisite thing," exclaimed Mr. Carteret, selecting one sketch from the rest; "I never saw anything more beautiful." " It is Ruth and Boaz." " So I concluded ; the more I look at it the more I am charmed. What a noble patri archal figure you have given to the benevolent Boaz — it is full of truth and vigour; then, the young Ruth. I never beheld a face so perfectly seraphic — what would I not give for the power to conceive a vision of such delicate beauty ; the creative faculty is certainly a wonderful gift."

" It is, indeed," replied Mr. Ashford ; " but that picture owes little to my imagination. There I have represented realities — Boaz is a likeness of one of the most benevolent men of the age — a Mr. Adager, well known as the good Samaritan. The Ruth is the portrait of my only daughter." " Your daughter," echoed Carteret ; " if that be like her, she must be the perfection of poetic beauty." " That is by no means a flattering portrait — my art could not do justice to my child," replied Mr. Ashford, with a father's pardonable vanity. " What a thousand pities to allow such a gem to remain in your portfolio — why not paint it in oils ? — it would fetch any price." " I can't help smiling at your earnestness in commending that sketch," said Mr. Ash ford, " though I perfectly agree with you in your appreciation of it ; in fact, I thought so well of it myself, that I did paint it in oils, and exhibited it at Somerset House.

Hireling critics, however, abused it, on account of the very delicacy you admire ; the dilettanti conse quently condemned it, and the picture did not sell." " Not sell ! what want of taste and justice. Where is it ? Can you let me see it ?" The artist was silent ; he did not like to confess that it was at a pawnbroker's, pledged for a few pounds. " Shall I be guilty of any impropriety, Mr. Ashford, in asking whether the picture is still for sale, for I should like, above all things, to possess it." " The price I put upon it at the Exhibition b was fifty pounds," said the artist, colouring ; " but "— " Then it shall be mine, before I leave this room," said Edward, not waiting to hear the artist's but. " Who is your banker ?" There was a painful struggle in Mr. Ash ford's breast. He wished to present the picture to Mr. Carteret, as a very slight return for his benevolent assistance to his son at Oxford, and he saw from the nervous twitching of William's lip, that he entertained a similar desire ; but in reality, they had not five shil lings in the world between them, much less ten pounds, the sum for which the picture was pledged.

At last he said, half choking with emotion . — " It would be a great folly in my attempt ing to conceal my poverty from you, Mr. Carteret, for William has, I know, told you of my struggles and the res angusta domi. I therefore, wdl be open and plain spoken with you. I was about saying, just now, that the picture is pledged for ten pounds ; you know our poverty, it is to all intents and purposes lost to us ; but if you really admire the picture and redeem it, it is yours." As keenly as Mr. Ashford felt in exposing his poverty to a comparative stranger, and deep as was William's humiliation in hearing him express it, they were not half so bitter as the regret and self-reproach of Edward Car teret, for having placed the father of his friend in such a predicament, merely for the grati fication of an idle fancy.

He hardly knew what to say or what to do. Not liking to put Mr. Ashford to further pain, by refusing his gift, he determined to accept it, resolving at the same time, to enclose him the fifty pounds on the following day. " I feel your generosity deeply," he said, " and accept your present gratefully ; believe me, I shall value it more than you can, perhaps, imagine. It shall not, I promise you, be many minutes in its disreputable abode. Looking over your father's portfolio, Will, almost made me forget the principal object of my visit, which is to carry you off to dine with us to day. Come, no refusals — the governor wdl be offended, and my cousin Isabel, indignant, for she is dying to be introduced to you ; there, you need not look so scared, she is not a woful, heart-corroding widow, but a thorough laughter-loving woman, half prude, half coquette.

If you do not fall down and worship her, as everybody else does, egad, she will think you a Goth, and I shall say you are worse than a Vandal ; but nous verrons. Mr. Ashford, I wish you a very good morning. We dine at seven, Will — au revoir." As he turned to go out, Mr. Thornton en tered. There was a degree of hauteur in Edward Carteret's recognition of him that was unlike his usual easy and attractive man ner. Thornton either did not or would not notice that Edward Carteret turned a cold shoulder on him, but putting a warm face upon his coldness, inquired, in the most bland and courteous manner, after the Baronet. Edward answered him with as much unconcern as good breeding permitted, and then hurried out of the room, followed by Wdliam Ashford. " I did not know that you were acquainted with the Carterets," said Thornton, addressing. the artist ; " they are a very old family, and connected with many of the nobility."

" That is no recommendation to me," said Mr. Ashford, testily; "I hate your offshoots of nobility ; but this young man has nothing of the lordling about him : he appears to have a refined judgment and much good nature." " Yes, he has those qualities certainly," an swered Thornton : " his demeanour, too, is fashionable, and his appearance much in his favour : these make him very attractive to the women. A handsome person and polished address, you know, are sure to create a prestige with them." " There is no great harm in that, is there ?" asked Mr. Ashford. " No, by no means, if it ended there ; but I have generally observed that your agreeable men are very dangerous companions — I mean, to women ; but as there are none here, my caution, or, rather, my observation, goes for nothing." " There is certainly great attractiveness about him," said Mr. Ashford, thoughtfully.

" He is my son's chief friend and companion. I have heard much that is good of him ; but I must see a little more of him before I pro nounce judgment upon him." " Then you don't know much of him ?" " No, very little ; but that little is in his favour." Mr. Thornton smiled. " Erom your smile," continued Mr. Ashford, " I should judge that your opinion of the young man is not so favourable as mine." " I don't know — I did not intend — that is, I should be sorry to say anything against him, or to raise a suspicion in your mind to his disadvantage," replied Mr. Thornton with seeming embarrassment, " for I am under many obligations to his father." " But a timely caution to me, cannot in jure him," returned Mr. Ashford, somewhat alarmed. " I therefore beseech you, if you know anything against him, tell it me, that I may put my son on his guard.

You need not be afraid : whatever you may reveal to me, shall be held in the strictest confidence." " I consider it perfectly hateful to speak ill of any one behind his back," replied Thornton. " Unless I have undeniable evidence of a man's guilt, I always think it better to be silent ; so you must excuse me — though of course there could be no harm in warning your son." " I understand — I am obliged to you Mr. Thornton : I must put a stop to his intimacy with my son, or he may be irretrievably ruined." " You must not be too hasty in your decision, sir — I have told you no harm of Mr. Carteret ; I was foolish, perhaps, to make the remark, but it is difficult to keep a constant lock upon your lips. A caution was all I intended — that could do no harm. I was only appre hensive, that if you allowed him free access to your house, you might regret it."

" How, sir ?" exclaimed Mr. Ashford, with some irritation. Thornton lowered his voice almost to a whisper, as he answered, " your daughter, Mr. Ashford, is very beautiful, and " "My daughter?" exclaimed Mr. Ashford, interrupting him, while his eyes kindled with anger. " No, sir, he dares not breathe a single word, or cast a single look upon her with unholy eyes. Thank Heaven, he has not seen her— and yet — he has her picture, fool that I was. Had I known — had I gained the insight into his character that I have now — rather than he should have had even the image of my guileless child to gloat upon with un hallowed thoughts, I would have torn it into a thousand shreds." " My dear sir, you are indeed too irascible. I was merely going to say, that being a man of so much takingness, Miss Ashford might — that is — he might gain her affections, and " " Sir !" exclaimed Mr. Ashford, " if you presume to mention my daughter's name again in connexion with such a subject, I shall resent it upon the spot."

" I beg your pardon, sir. I fear my friendship for you, and my humble admiration of your daughter, may have led me to point out too plainly the danger attendant on the visits of a fascinating man, whose gallantry is pro verbial ; but I have said enough — you are a father — suspect nothing, but be ready to sus pect everything." " I perfectly appreciate your motive," replied Mr. Ashford, " and I am really obliged to you for your hint, though you have raised a feeling in my breast that will not easily be subdued, against one for whom I entertained a pre possession." " It hurts me to think that, and makes me blame myself for my candour. With all my schooling, I see I shall never become a prudent man." >» "Better be an honest one, Mr. Thornton. Give me the man who would not flatter Neptune for his trident, nor Jove for his power to thunder."

We shall not bore the reader by repeating all that was said by Mr. Thornton, or what Mr. Ashford answered ; for nothing is so tire some as saying everything that can be said on the subject. It is sufficient to state, that Thornton succeeded in thoroughly removing from the artist's mind those unfavourable im pressions of him which he entertained, and fixing deeper in his breast the feelings of sus picion and distrust of Edward Carteret.

Chapter II

Long before the hour appointed for dinner, Wdliam Ashford knocked at Sir Edward Carteret's door in Berkeley Square. In the drawing-room he found the Baronet, standing with his back to the fire, in the favourite attitude of most Englishmen, and talking energetically to an elegant young woman in the full prime of life, who was seated on a sofa near him. On an easy chair opposite to her, Edward Carteret was lounging, and caressing a beautiful deerhound. William Ashford's entrance was hailed with the warmest expressions of kindness, almost affection, by the Baronet, who introduced him with due ceremony to his niece. Mrs Merrivale was the beau-ideal of fascination, a brunette in complexion, with re gular features, delicately formed ; her mouth, perhaps, would have been considered a little too large, had it not contained two rows of teeth of exquisite shape and whiteness.

In figure, she was rather above than below the middle height of woman, and her movements were full of dignity and grace. Her voice was peculiarly soft and harmonious, while her conversational powers were of the first quality. She possessed that happy faculty of investing even common-place subjects with interest. Wdliam Ashford was not, what is commonly termed, a ladies' man ; he was too nervous and embarrassed to feel entirely at ease in their company : indeed, it was never without an effort that he went into their society, and he was never known to commence a conversation with them — but when the ice was once broken, no one entered more into the spirit of plaisanterie than himself, or was more happy at repartee and jeu d' esprit. He could occasionally condescend to banter and joke, and even perpetrate a pun.

Mrs. Merrivale's vivacity and graceful chitchat took him quite by storm. In less than five minutes he was quite at home, talking familiarly to her, as though he had known her many months — and it was not without some slight vexation that he was disturbed in his confabulation by the arrival of other guests. " Some of Belle's tame lions," as his friend Edward informed him, for she was fond of literary society, and cultivated it to the extent of her power. Wdliam Ashford was seated on the left of Mrs. Merrivale, who headed the table, and came in for nearly the whole of her conver sation, as the gentleman who handed her down to dinner, was much too intent upon eating to devote any portion of his time to talking ; and perhaps it was a proof of his wisdom, for few persons can do two things at the same time thoroughly well.

Mrs. Merrivale being the only lady present, did not sit long at table after the dessert was served — and William Ashford, who seemed but little interested in the conversation after she had retired, persuaded his friend Edward to accompany him to the drawing-room. He found Mrs. Merrivale engaged in looking over a portfolio of original drawings, which she had been some years collecting. " I need not ask if you are fond of water colours," she said, as he stooped to look over one she was then admiring j " you would not have the blood of an artist in your veins if you were indifferent to them." " If I had not had a great fondness for that branch of art, the exquisite gem now before me would have engendered a new impression. May I venture to ask the name of the artist ?" A shade of something like sorrow passed over Mrs. Merriv ale's face, as she said — " His fate was so sad, that I think it hardly fair to tell his name.

This was the last draw ing he ever finished — he died in a lunatic a asylum." " Impossible ! and yet Aristotle says that there is no distinguished genius altogether exempt from some infusion of madness." " Poor Anastasius, had he lived and been patient, I have no doubt he would have equalled, if not surpassed, the greatest painters of his own, or any other day ; but patience is rarely the companion of genius." " I don't agree with you, at least I never knew a genius that was without it. Nothing great can be accomplished without much patience and labour." " But the greatest labour and patience have never yet produced anything super excellent." " Certainly not, without genius ; for though patience and perseverance are necessary for the full development of genius, they have no power to conceive, or rather create, but can only assist to carry out its revelations.

The brilliant works of the greatest Masters are, to my mind, so many chronicles of the patient and laborious lives of the great souls that have departed." " Departed !" echoed Mrs. Merrivale, " what a world of melancholy feelings that word engenders. I often think it is a pity that men of genius can live no longer than other men." " They do. We must measure life by works — not years. They live centuries in their brief space of time ; while we, in the whole span of human life, live scarcely a single day." " True," replied Mrs. Merrivale, " for we are formed of common clay, and animated by common souls. It is strange to think how many human beings are ushered daily into the world, and yet how few are endued with the spirit of genius." " There needs not many," interrupted William ; " for as one sun is enough to light a whole system, so one genius is enough to en lighten a whole age."

" You are right, and yet men of talent, who approach within the sphere of genius, are numerous enough." " Good — but a man of talent is made up of a combination of qualities which are acquired, whfle the man of genius is one individual indivisible." " What do you call genius ?" " An undefinable inspiration, which raises its possessor above all his fellow mortals, producing in him excellencies which no precepts can teach, no industry acquire. It is the source of light in itself, and to others : and it is that which' places him at the head of that branch of creative thought, to elucidate which he was especially born." "Do you not think genius may be universal?" said Mrs. Merrivale. " Certainly not !" replied William Ashford, " for in its very nature it is contracted within a short space, like the rays of the sun when concentrated within a focus — it gains in in tensity, what it loses in expansion.

There may be a genius in poetry, a genius in paint ing, a genius in sculpture, a genius in science, but you never see a genius in all." " A genius, then, according to your appre hension, must be an artist in one or other of the branches of intellect, although he is bound by no rules." " That is not my meaning. The rules of art are intuitive in him ; he does not learn them as the mere artist does — God or nature instructs him — not man. Hence it is, as I said, that mere art, which is the product of labour and patience, can produce nothing transcendant — art is the power of exemplifica tion, genius of creation. Thousands may possess the first, but not one in a mdlion is blessed with the latter. The one is a reve lation of God — the other of man. It is quite possible for a man to be an artist and no genius, but he is no genius who is not an artist — for he must have art to render what his genius creates."

" I must think over all you have said before I decide whether Anastasius had genius or not ; at any rate, he had all the elements of it, but patience ; wanting that, he faded — for he tried to soar before his wings were plumed, and fell with a crushed spirit. His air-buflt palaces vanished ; hope forsook him, and left him to die in the cave of despair, the grave of intellect and reason." " Methinks if we could count the minds which have been destroyed, the hearts that have been broken by disappointed ambition, their names would be legion," replied William Ashford, " for it is a disease men die of oftener than the world believes. I suppose the desire VOL. II. c to obtain greatness, rather than immortality, is inherent in our nature : and yet I doubt whether all the greatness that can be won, is worth the trouble men take to gain it."

" Perhaps not," replied Mrs. Merrivale ; " but were it not for the desire of obtaining it, few would deserve it. We have all ambition of some kind. I have mine ; and you, I have no doubt, have yours — though I hope it is not an empty craving after all but impossible things." " Rest assured it is not," replied William Ashford, smiling ; " for I only desire to live an honourable life — a happy one, if possible. If I have the power to win the approbation of the world, I shall be glad ; if not, I am deter mined to rest satisfied with my own — so far my ambition reaches, and no further." " It would be well," returned Mrs. Merri vale, " if the ambition of every man had as noble an aim ; but I am afraid we all, with rare exceptions, think more of the world's approval than our own." " Come, come," said Edward Carteret, in terrupting the metaphysical interlocution between his cousin and his friend j " I shall not allow you to monopolise my fair cousin in this way.

Your dialogue has lasted long enough, and I think it high time to turn it into a tria logue. Ah, I see !" he added, glancing his eye on the drawing Mrs. Merrivale had still before her, " Belle has been giving you a his tory of her romantic adorer who died for love, and " " Hush, Ned !" said Mrs. Merrivale, looking pained ; " jest as much as you please on a living subject, but not upon the dead." Before Edward could reply, she was answer ing an observation made by a picturesque, artistic-looking dandy — a regular petit maitre, as great a fop in his writing as he was in his person — who managed to pick up a tolerable income by imposing on the world an annual quantity of jargon, written in the moral strain and false sublimity. He was then bringing out a new edition of the "Analysis of Beauty ;" and, as illustrations of the perfection of the human countenance, inserted his own and his wife's portrait, under which was written — " Man is seen in his face : God in his creatures." c When Wflliam Ashford returned home, his mind was full of Isabelle Merrivale — he could think of nothing else.