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Updated: November 21, 2025
No doubt an artist should wait till his circumstances were worthy of his gifts; and then marry a woman who could understand and help him on. Nor was even the child a binding influence. Fenwick in this visit became for the first time a fond father. A certain magic in the little Carrie flattered his vanity and excited his hopes.
There is nothing in his writings more quietly, deeply hopeless than most of the tales in the collection "Life's Little Ironies." One shrinks away from the truth and terror of them while lured by their charm. The short stories increase one's admiration for the artist, but the full, more virile message conies from the Novels.
Is our acrobatic artist really gone to his esthetic death; has he given his place permanently to the ever present singing lady who is always telling you who her modiste is, sings a sentimental song or two and then disappears; to the sleek little gentleman who dances off a moment or two to the tune of his doll-like partner whose voice is usually littler than his own?
"Why do you want to annihilate the sex? What harm have women ever done to you?" "Oh," retorted the artist, "it is on theoretical principles, purely. I adore that masculine ideal which man calls woman, but only finds in his brain. The highest on earth is reached only by the absolute elimination of the feminine.
"Alma," her mother said, with the effect of breaking off, "what do you suppose is the reason he hasn't been near us?" "Why, I don't know, mamma, except that it would have been natural for another person to come, and he's an artist at least, artist enough for that." "That doesn't account for it altogether. He was very nice at St. Barnaby, and seemed so interested in you your work."
Somehow or other, nobody ever went into that room without knocking. It never entered any one's head to burst in unannounced. The door was an unimposing-looking piece of deal, grained by some village artist into the portraiture of an as yet undiscovered kind of wood, and considerably impaired in various ways by time. It could not have been the door, therefore.
She fell upon her knees by the empty chair, her open hands flung outward, her sobs strangling her. He stood quite near her, looking down. "I have not thought of anything but my work," he said. "Why should I?" The following Sunday night the artist Masson met in going down-stairs a closely veiled figure coming up. He knew it and spoke. "What, Natalie?" he said. "You?
But he himself, though he could play so many instruments, and pass judgment in so many fields of art, remained an amateur. It is not given to any one so keenly to enjoy, without some greater power to understand. That he did not like Shakespeare as an artist for the stage may be a fault, but it is not without either parallel or excuse.
After SELIVIT has been paid a cigarette is smoked, and then work recommences in earnest, there being no further interruptions for the rest of the day except for the purpose of taking food. The food of the artist must be cooked and brought to her, as she must not stop to do other work than tatuing, and her tools are only laid aside for a few minutes while she consumes a hurried meal.
He has since told me he was much astonished at the way Nino sang the love song at his lesson; and he was instantly convinced that in order to be a great artist Nino must be in love always. Besides, the maestro is as liberal in his views of life as he is conservative in his ideas about government.
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