DOI issue:
No. 112 (July, 1902)
DOI article:The lay figure: a voice from the canvas
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.19876#0170
The Lay Figure
'"It vanished at the breath of Truth !'
"'Oh, I say, ^13 10s. can't vanish like that!'
'"I breathed on falsehood and it was not,' con-
tinued the head, looking oracular.
" ' I think it was very inconsiderate of you, then;
you had no business to—breathe in that direction.
How am I to make good the loss—er---'
"'Of ios.?' ihe asked sweetly. 'Am I
such a bad bargain ? '
" ' I—you—how do I know you have not been
repainted? ' I said, driven into a corner.
" ' Repainted indeed !' cried the head, tossing a
curly mane ; but with a sad note she presently went
on, ' My dear good connoisseur, that is just what I
have been, or, rather, worse—obliterated. When
one has been Teniers for twenty years, one would
stick at nothing for a change.'
" ' You haven't—er—stuck at much,' I ventured,
unable to be angry with this mercurial vision.
"'Don't you think I'm rather nice? How old
should you say I was ?' she went on with charming
inconsequence.
"'Twenty,' I guessed promptly.
" The girl clapped her hands. ' I am barely
sixteen, but everyone takes me for more.'
" ' Well, I took you for thirteen pounds—and I
suppose I must make the best of the bargain. Here
you are, and here I suppose you intend to stay ? '
There was a note of resignation in my voice.
"'Of course I'm going to stay,' cried the head.
"' The only thing is,' I went on nervously,
' what will my friends think ? My reputation as a
connoisseur will be completely annihilated if I show
you to them as my new Teniers.'
" At this the mischievous little apparition broke
into a ripple of laughter. ' Oh, do try it—do; it
would be such a joke !'
" ' You are very young !' I said, smiling in spite
of myself.
" ' Oh, I don't know. A girl is always as young
as she is painted.'
" 'Oh, at least !' I assented, with a vague idea
that I had said something brilliant.
" ' Then you have decided to—er—stop ?' I
added after a pause. To my surprise her animated
face assumed quite a gloomy expression.
" ' That was a way of putting it,' she said mourn-
fully. ' It is really for you to decide.'
" ' Oh, if it rests with me,' I said, almost eagerly
(she had such wonderful eyelashes); then, re-
membering my brother William, 'It's a p'ty—the
trouble is, I've already mentioned you—the
Teniers, I mean—to William.'
" ' And will William—whoever William may be
—mind very much ? '
"'Oh, mind,' I ejaculated crossly; 'I've no
doubt he will enjoy my discomfiture hugely. He
—he doesn't believe in my connoi^-seurship.'
"The saucy head giggled again, rather aggra-
vatingly.
" ' Well, everything has its price,' she said.
" ' You are out of drawing,' I said spitefully, and
blushed at myself afterwards. But she was when
she giggled.
158
" She did not seem to mind this at all.
"' How about the potato noses ?' was all
she retorted. ' Are there any more kindred
spirits about, she went on, glancing round the
room.
'•' Oh, no ; I think not,' I said hastily. ' One is
enough at a time. But are you really—excuse my
interest—leally—ahem !—aspirit—a ghost, in short?'
"'Well, what else did you take me for?' she
asked with a merry laugh.
" ' Then you surely have a grievance. What is
your grievance ?'
" ' Mine ? You ask what mine is ?' and her eyes
flashed with pretty indignation. 'To be painted
over at my age, don't you call that one? If it had
not been for a friendly chink in the wall through
which I could peep at the world, I could never
have stood it; I should have cockled like a water-
colour with impatience. And you think I am the
only one? It is the fate of many—of most.'
Here her voice fell to a dramatic whisper. ' In
this very room I should not be surprised if there
were obliterated ones, longing to be set free.'
" I looked round nervously, seeming to hear
varnished groans, glazed murmurs on all sides.
"' The still life that has become a marine,'
pursued the apparition, ' the cattle piece turned
into a family group, the ruined tower into a
simpedng kitten, the hopeful girl into a Dutch
inteiior, and whose is the fault ? '
"'That's it; give it him,'suddenly creaked an
old willow, leaning over a fence by a marshy dyke.
' I mayn't be much to look at, but I'm genuine, I
am, an' a sight better than this 'ere Dutch bulb.'
It was in these terms that my favourite Jan Steen
was alluded to, and into this uninteresting stump
had he been metamorphosed.
"'This is too bid,' I groaned; 'I won't be put
off with an old bit of timber — I-'
'■'You buy old masters for ^13 io.f.,' came
another voice like a cracked bell, which I knew
came from a church clock by a Swiss lake. ' Buy
the living masters, and let the dead ones go. Half
of them have not even an honest ghost of their
own, let alone a soul; take it fiom me. You never
respected me much, but an) how there's nothing
behind me,' and the clock wheezed in a sort of
purring chuckle, until it broke into a fit of tolling.
" The tolling became a clanging, louder, more
ear-piercing, and terrible. I started up.
''The clock finished striking six, and—I was
staring blankly at the ugly Teniers peasant,
squinting at me over his nose.
" But not for long. I took the picture down
from the wall then and there placed the lamp at
its full burning power behind the canvas, and sure
enough, I could clearly perceive in the blank wall
of the interior two almond-shaped patches.
" To make a long story short, the Teniers was
returned from the restorer in about a fortnight as
The Head of a Girl by a lately deceased painter,
and I recognised it now. It had been exhibited at
the Grosvenor Gallery in 1882. But what did I
tell William ? Never mind."
'"It vanished at the breath of Truth !'
"'Oh, I say, ^13 10s. can't vanish like that!'
'"I breathed on falsehood and it was not,' con-
tinued the head, looking oracular.
" ' I think it was very inconsiderate of you, then;
you had no business to—breathe in that direction.
How am I to make good the loss—er---'
"'Of ios.?' ihe asked sweetly. 'Am I
such a bad bargain ? '
" ' I—you—how do I know you have not been
repainted? ' I said, driven into a corner.
" ' Repainted indeed !' cried the head, tossing a
curly mane ; but with a sad note she presently went
on, ' My dear good connoisseur, that is just what I
have been, or, rather, worse—obliterated. When
one has been Teniers for twenty years, one would
stick at nothing for a change.'
" ' You haven't—er—stuck at much,' I ventured,
unable to be angry with this mercurial vision.
"'Don't you think I'm rather nice? How old
should you say I was ?' she went on with charming
inconsequence.
"'Twenty,' I guessed promptly.
" The girl clapped her hands. ' I am barely
sixteen, but everyone takes me for more.'
" ' Well, I took you for thirteen pounds—and I
suppose I must make the best of the bargain. Here
you are, and here I suppose you intend to stay ? '
There was a note of resignation in my voice.
"'Of course I'm going to stay,' cried the head.
"' The only thing is,' I went on nervously,
' what will my friends think ? My reputation as a
connoisseur will be completely annihilated if I show
you to them as my new Teniers.'
" At this the mischievous little apparition broke
into a ripple of laughter. ' Oh, do try it—do; it
would be such a joke !'
" ' You are very young !' I said, smiling in spite
of myself.
" ' Oh, I don't know. A girl is always as young
as she is painted.'
" 'Oh, at least !' I assented, with a vague idea
that I had said something brilliant.
" ' Then you have decided to—er—stop ?' I
added after a pause. To my surprise her animated
face assumed quite a gloomy expression.
" ' That was a way of putting it,' she said mourn-
fully. ' It is really for you to decide.'
" ' Oh, if it rests with me,' I said, almost eagerly
(she had such wonderful eyelashes); then, re-
membering my brother William, 'It's a p'ty—the
trouble is, I've already mentioned you—the
Teniers, I mean—to William.'
" ' And will William—whoever William may be
—mind very much ? '
"'Oh, mind,' I ejaculated crossly; 'I've no
doubt he will enjoy my discomfiture hugely. He
—he doesn't believe in my connoi^-seurship.'
"The saucy head giggled again, rather aggra-
vatingly.
" ' Well, everything has its price,' she said.
" ' You are out of drawing,' I said spitefully, and
blushed at myself afterwards. But she was when
she giggled.
158
" She did not seem to mind this at all.
"' How about the potato noses ?' was all
she retorted. ' Are there any more kindred
spirits about, she went on, glancing round the
room.
'•' Oh, no ; I think not,' I said hastily. ' One is
enough at a time. But are you really—excuse my
interest—leally—ahem !—aspirit—a ghost, in short?'
"'Well, what else did you take me for?' she
asked with a merry laugh.
" ' Then you surely have a grievance. What is
your grievance ?'
" ' Mine ? You ask what mine is ?' and her eyes
flashed with pretty indignation. 'To be painted
over at my age, don't you call that one? If it had
not been for a friendly chink in the wall through
which I could peep at the world, I could never
have stood it; I should have cockled like a water-
colour with impatience. And you think I am the
only one? It is the fate of many—of most.'
Here her voice fell to a dramatic whisper. ' In
this very room I should not be surprised if there
were obliterated ones, longing to be set free.'
" I looked round nervously, seeming to hear
varnished groans, glazed murmurs on all sides.
"' The still life that has become a marine,'
pursued the apparition, ' the cattle piece turned
into a family group, the ruined tower into a
simpedng kitten, the hopeful girl into a Dutch
inteiior, and whose is the fault ? '
"'That's it; give it him,'suddenly creaked an
old willow, leaning over a fence by a marshy dyke.
' I mayn't be much to look at, but I'm genuine, I
am, an' a sight better than this 'ere Dutch bulb.'
It was in these terms that my favourite Jan Steen
was alluded to, and into this uninteresting stump
had he been metamorphosed.
"'This is too bid,' I groaned; 'I won't be put
off with an old bit of timber — I-'
'■'You buy old masters for ^13 io.f.,' came
another voice like a cracked bell, which I knew
came from a church clock by a Swiss lake. ' Buy
the living masters, and let the dead ones go. Half
of them have not even an honest ghost of their
own, let alone a soul; take it fiom me. You never
respected me much, but an) how there's nothing
behind me,' and the clock wheezed in a sort of
purring chuckle, until it broke into a fit of tolling.
" The tolling became a clanging, louder, more
ear-piercing, and terrible. I started up.
''The clock finished striking six, and—I was
staring blankly at the ugly Teniers peasant,
squinting at me over his nose.
" But not for long. I took the picture down
from the wall then and there placed the lamp at
its full burning power behind the canvas, and sure
enough, I could clearly perceive in the blank wall
of the interior two almond-shaped patches.
" To make a long story short, the Teniers was
returned from the restorer in about a fortnight as
The Head of a Girl by a lately deceased painter,
and I recognised it now. It had been exhibited at
the Grosvenor Gallery in 1882. But what did I
tell William ? Never mind."