Chapter51

twomonthspassed.

itseemedtophilip,broodingoverthesematters,thatinthetruepainters,writers,musicians,therewasapowerwhichdrovethemtosuchcompleteabsorptionintheirworkastomakeitinevitableforthemtosubordinatelifetoart.umbingtoaninfluencetheyneverrealised,theyweremerelydupesoftheinstinctthatpossessedthem,andlifeslippedthroughtheirfingersunlived.buthehadafeelingthatlifewastobelivedratherthanportrayed,andhewantedtosearchoutthevariousexperiencesofitandwringfromeachmomentalltheemotionthatitoffered.hemadeuphismindatlengthtotakeacertainstepandabidebytheresult,and,havingmadeuphismind,hedeterminedtotakethestepatonce.luckilyenoughthenextmorningwasoneoffoinet’sdays,andheresolvedtoaskhimpoint-blankwhetheritwasworthhiswhiletogoonwiththestudyofart.hehadneverforgottenthemaster’sbrutaladvicetofannyprice.ithadbeensound.philipcouldnevergetfannyentirelyoutofhishead.thestudioseemedstrangewithouther,andnowandthenthegestureofoneofthewomenworkingthereorthetoneofavoicewouldgivehimasuddenstart,remindinghimofher:herpresencewasmorenoticablenowshewasdeadthanithadeverbeenduringherlife;andheoftendreamedofheratnight,wakingwithacryofterror.itwashorribletothinkofallthesufferingshemusthaveendured.

philipknewthatonthedaysfoinetcametothestudiohelunchedatalittlerestaurantintherued’odessa,andhehurriedhisownmealsothathecouldgoandwaitoutsidetillthepaintercameout.philipwalkedupanddownthecrowdedstreetandatlastsawmonsieurfoinetwalking,withbenthead,towardshim;philipwasverynervous,butheforcedhimselftogouptohim.

“pardon,monsieur,ishouldliketospeaktoyouforonemoment.”  foinetgavehimarapidglance,recognisedhim,butdidnotsmileagreeting.

“speak,”hesaid.

“i’vebeenworkingherenearlytwoyearsnowunderyou.iwantedtoaskyoutotellmefranklyifyouthinkitworthwhileformetocontinue.”

philip’svoicewastremblingalittle.foinetwalkedonwithoutlookingup.philip,watchinghisface,sawnotraceofexpressionuponit.

“idon’tunderstand.”

“i’mverypoor.ifihavenotalentiwouldsoonerdosomethingelse.”

“don’tyouknowifyouhavetalent?”

“allmyfriendsknowtheyhavetalent,butiamawaresomeofthemaremistaken.”

foinet’sbittermouthoutlinedtheshadowofasmile,andheasked:

“doyoulivenearhere?”

philiptoldhimwherehisstudiowas.foinetturnedround.

“letusgothere?youshallshowmeyourwork.”

“now?”criedphilip.

“whynot?”

philiphadnothingtosay.hewalkedsilentlybythemaster’sside.hefelthorriblysick.ithadneverstruckhimthatfoinetwouldwishtoseehisthingsthereandthen;hemeant,sothathemighthavetimetopreparehimself,toaskhimifhewouldmindcomingatsomefuturedateorwhetherhemightbringthemtofoinet’sstudio.hewastremblingwithanxiety.inhishearthehopedthatfoinetwouldlookathispicture,andthatraresmilewouldcomeintohisface,andhewouldshakephilip’shandandsay:“pasmal.goon,mylad.youhavetalent,realtalent.”philip’sheartswelledatthethought.itwassucharelief,suchajoy!nowhecouldgoonwithcourage;andwhatdidhardshipmatter,privation,anddisappointment,ifhearrivedatlast?hehadworkedveryhard,itwouldbetoocruelifallthatindustrywerefutile.andthenwithastartherememberedthathehadheardfannypricesayjustthat.theyarrivedatthehouse,andphilipwasseizedwithfear.ifhehaddaredhewouldhaveaskedfoinettogoaway.hedidnotwanttoknowthetruth.theywentinandtheconciergehandedhimaletterastheypassed.heglancedattheenvelopeandrecognisedhisuncle’shandwriting.foinetfollowedhimupthestairs.philipcouldthinkofnothingtosay;foinetwasmute,andthesilencegotonhisnerves.theprofessorsatdown;andphilipwithoutawordplacedbeforehimthepicturewhichthesalonhadrejected;foinetnoddedbutdidnotspeak;thenphilipshowedhimthetwoportraitshehadmadeofruthchalice,twoorthreelandscapeswhichhehadpaintedatmoret,andanumberofsketches.

“that’sall,”hesaidpresently,withanervouslaugh.

monsieurfoinetrolledhimselfacigaretteandlitit.

“youhaveverylittleprivatemeans?”heaskedatlast.

“verylittle,”answeredphilip,withasuddenfeelingofcoldathisheart.“notenoughtoliveon.”

“thereisnothingsodegradingastheconstantanxietyaboutone’smeansoflivelihood.ihavenothingbutcontemptforthepeoplewhodespisemoney.theyarehypocritesorfools.moneyislikeasixthsensewithoutwhichyoucannotmakeacompleteuseoftheotherfive.withoutanadequateincomehalfthepossibilitiesoflifeareshutoff.theonlythingtobecarefulaboutisthatyoudonotpaymorethanashillingfortheshillingyouearn.youwillhearpeoplesaythatpovertyisthebestspurtotheartist.theyhaveneverfelttheironofitintheirflesh.theydonotknowhowmeanitmakesyou.itexposesyoutoendlesshumiliation,itcutsyourwings,iteatsintoyoursoullikeacancer.itisnotwealthoneasksfor,butjustenoughtopreserveone’sdignity,toworkunhampered,tobegenerous,frank,andindependent.ipitywithallmyhearttheartist,whetherhewritesorpaints,whoisentirelydependentforsubsistenceuponhisart.”

philipquietlyputawaythevariousthingswhichhehadshown.

“i’mafraidthatsoundsasifyoudidn’tthinkihadmuchchance.”

monsieurfoinetslightlyedhisshoulders.

“youhaveacertainmanualdexterity.withhardworkandperseverancethereisnoreasonwhyyoushouldnotbecomeacareful,notincompetentpainter.youwouldfindhundredswhopaintedworsethan

you,hundredswhopaintedaswell.iseenotalentinanythingyouhaveshownme.iseeindustryandintelligence.youwillneverbeanythingbutmediocre.”

philipobligedhimselftoanswerquitesteadily.

“i’mverygratefultoyouforhavingtakensomuchtrouble.ican’tthankyouenough.”

monsieurfoinetgotupandmadeasiftogo,buthechangedhismindand,stopping,puthishandonphilip’sshoulder.

“butifyouweretoaskmemyadvice,ishouldsay:takeyourcourageinbothhandsandtryyourluckatsomethingelse.itsoundsveryhard,butletmetellyouthis:iwouldgiveallihaveintheworldifsomeonehadgivenmethatadvicewheniwasyourageandihadtakenit.”

philiplookedupathimwithsurprise.themasterforcedhislipsintoasmile,buthiseyesremainedgraveandsad.

“itiscrueltodiscoverone’smediocrityonlywhenitistoolate.itdoesnotimprovethetemper.”

hegavealittlelaughashesaidthelastwordsandquicklywalkedoutoftheroom.

philipmechanicallytookuptheletterfromhisuncle.thesightofhishandwritingmadehimanxious,foritwashisauntwhoalwayswrotetohim.shehadbeenillforthelastthreemonths,andhehadofferedtogoovertoenglandandseeher;butshe,fearingitwouldinterferewithhiswork,hadrefused.shedidnotwanthimtoputhimselftoinconvenience;shesaidshewouldwaittillaugustandthenshehopedhewouldcomeandstayatthevicaragefortwoorthreeweeks.ifbyanychanceshegrewworseshewouldlethimknow,sinceshedidnotwishtodiewithoutseeinghimagain.ifhisunclewrotetohimitmustbebecauseshewastooilltoholdapen.philipopenedtheletter.itranasfollows:

mydearphilip,iregrettoinformyouthatyourdearauntdepartedthislifeearlythismorning.shediedverysuddenly,butquitepeacefully.thechangefortheworsewassorapidthatwehadnotimetosendforyou.shewasfullypreparedfortheendandenteredintorestwiththecompleteassuranceofablessedresurrectionandwithresignationtothedivinewillofourblessedlordjesuschrist.yourauntwouldhavelikedyoutobepresentatthefuneralsoitrustyouwillcomeassoonasyoucan.thereisnaturallyagreatdealofworkthrownuponmyshouldersandiamverymuchupset.itrustthatyouwillbeabletodoeverythingforme.

youraffectionateuncle,williamcarey.