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Drowne's Wooden Image
ButItrustyoudonotmeantodesecratethisexquisitecreaturewithpaint,likethosestaringkingsandadmiralsyonder?"
"Notpainther!"exclaimedCaptainHunnewell,whostoodby;"notpaintthefigure-headoftheCynosure!AndwhatsortofafigureshouldIcutinaforeignportwithsuchanunpaintedoakenstickasthisovermyprow!Shemust,andsheshall,bepaintedtothelife,fromthetopmostflowerinherhatdowntothesilverspanglesonherslippers."
"Mr.Copley,"saidDrowne,quietly,"Iknownothingofmarblestatuary,andnothingofthesculptor’srulesofart;butofthiswoodenimage,thisworkofmyhands,thiscreatureofmyheart,"—andherehisvoicefalteredandchokedinaverysingularmanner,—"ofthis—ofher—ImaysaythatIknowsomething.Awell-springofinwardwisdomgushedwithinmeasIwroughtupontheoakwithmywholestrength,andsoul,andfaith.Letothersdowhattheymaywithmarble,andadoptwhatrulestheychoose.IfIcanproducemydesiredeffectbypaintedwood,thoserulesarenotforme,andIhavearighttodisregardthem."
"Theveryspiritofgenius,"mutteredCopleytohimself."Howotherwiseshouldthiscarverfeelhimselfentitledtotranscendallrules,andmakemeashamedofquotingthem?"
HelookedearnestlyatDrowne,andagainsawthatexpressionofhumanlovewhich,inaspiritualsense,astheartistcouldnothelpimagining,wasthesecretofthelifethathadbeenbreathedintothisblockofwood.
