Camera Work: A Photographic Quarterly (1907 (Heft 20))

harnessed to your tripod nature’s own illuminant, that needeth neither pump-
ing nor pipe-line, dispenseth with rebates, suffereth no fluctuations, and is to
be cornered only by genius—God’s eternal, inexhaustible sunshine. Only
the photographer, who has risen to the supreme heights of emotional ex-
pression, as you have, Mr. Binny, is the real master-magician of the universe,
and the fact that you may occasionally be shy of the price of a quick lunch
cuts no ice. That is but incidental, and, after all, as I impress upon my
Sunday-school class, it is the fundamental only that really counts.”
“ I should tell you,” continued Mr. Binny, licking his lips, as he had
a habit of doing after enunciating a great thought or using a big word, “ that
this beautiful enthusiasm had been aroused by the sight of my emotionalized
gum portrait of himself. At first he could not be induced to look at it. He
was appalled by the anticipation of its beauty. ‘There are limits,' he said
fervently, ' even to my vanity. Were I to see the creation of your gummy
emotions, I should grovel before it in abject mumbo-jumbo prostrations, and
I have made it a habit to worship even my Creator with moderation, in a
standing posture, or at most with a slight inclination of my seated body. In
this way I can better maintain the equality that should exist between Us.
Of course,' he added, ' I am willing to admit a wider difference between
myself and you, Mr. Binny; but, even so, I should wish to indulge in my
worship of your genius without prejudice to the set of my trousers.’ So we
arranged a compromise, and my client, for a consideration, gives himself the
occasional rapture of borrowing the print. He hangs it in his bathroom,
that his excess of admiration and the worship it inspires may not cause his
trousers to bulge at the knees.”
This recital alarmed me. Perhaps the gum-emotion of myself might
turn out to be as beautiful. If so, what havoc it would play with my peace
of mind, for I have a dread of delirium. On the other hand, its beauty
might not impress me and what an affront that would be to the genius of
Mr. Binny! So I awaited with apprehension the summons to his studio.
It came; I went, and imagine my relief, when the gifted emotionalist handed
me a straight platinum print. " Sir,” he said in tones of reproach," I have
gummed at you and you would not stir my emotions; though I mingled the
sweat of anguish with the gum bichromate, you would not respond, except
in blobs and blurs and blotches. You’re so average a person that you are
immune from even my art-emotionalism."
" Thank you,” I said meekly. It was only later that I realized the
depth of my gratitude. But for the grace of God, I might have been the
victim of dementia gum-emotionalis.
Charles H. Caffin.

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