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On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a snail's bed. He held out his copybook. The word Sums was written on the headline. Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot. Cyril Sargent: his name and seal. Mr Deasy told me to write them out all again, he said, and show them to you, sir.
His memory was a marvel to all who knew him. He could repeat till the dawn, extracts from famous speeches he had heard from the lips of Clay, Grundy, Marshall, and Menifee. More than once, I have heard him declaim the wonderful speech of Sargent S. Prentiss delivered almost a half-century before, in the old Harrodsburg Court-house, in defence of Wilkinson for killing three men at the Galt House.
Not the dramatic Carmencita of Sargent, but the creature as she is, with her simian gestures, her insolence, her vulgarity, her teeth and the shrill scarlet of the bare gum above the gleaming white, His street scenes are a transcript of the actual facts, and inextricably woven with the facts is a sense of the strange beauty of them all.
The other they held to be "distinctly American"; and, with the versatility of his race, Wilton Sargent had set out to be just a little more English than the English. He succeeded to admiration.
Epes Sargent, of Boston, some years before, when I was ascending the St. Johns River, Florida. Before dusk, all things not spoiled by the water were dried and secreted in the tall sedge of the marshes. The elevation which had given me friendly shelter is known as "Hog Island."
Sargent addressed the Senate at length on the whole subject of Chinese immigration in California, and presented in full detail the grievances of which the people on the Pacific Coast complained. The Senate, reluctant to take at once so decisive a step as was involved in Mr. Sargent's resolution, adopted a substitute, moved by Mr.
Blenheim Palace has been shorn of many of its treasures, among them the great Sunderland Library of 80,000 volumes, sold at auction some years ago. Many valuable objects of art still remain, especially family portraits by nearly every great artist from Gainsborough to Sargent, and there is much fine statuary.
If we no longer call him "the prince of painters" we must call him one of the greatest artists among those who have practised the art of painting. Mr. Sargent is a portrait-painter by vocation, and the public knows him best as a penetrating and sometimes cruel reader of human character. He is a mural painter by avocation and capable, on occasion, of a monumental formality.
"The infant class of the Sunday-School sits there, you know, and I expect the paint has had extra wear and tear. Families don't seem to occupy those pews regularly nowadays." "I can remember when every seat in the whole church was filled, wings an' all," mused Mrs. Sargent, wringing out her washcloth in a reminiscent mood.
After a protracted and bitter struggle, Sargent, of the same political affiliation as Cushing, succeeded in defeating the confirmation by a single vote.
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