The Painter by A. A. Milne
MR PAUL SAMWAYS was in a mood of deep depression. The artistic
temperament is peculiarly subject to these moods, but in Paul's case
there was reason why he should take a gloomy view of things. His
masterpiece, "The Shot Tower from Battersea Bridge," together with
the companion picture, "Battersea Bridge from the Shot Tower," had
been purchased by a dealer for seventeen and sixpence. His sepia
monochrome, "Night," had brought him an I.O.U. for five shillings.
These were his sole earnings for the last six weeks, and starvation
stared him in the face.
"If only I had a little capital!" he cried aloud in despair.
"Enough to support me until my Academy picture is finished." His
Academy picture was a masterly study entitled, "Roll on, thou deep and
dark blue ocean, roll," and he had been compelled to stop half-way
across the Channel through sheer lack of ultramarine.
The clock struck two, reminding him that he had not lunched. He
rose wearily and went to the little cupboard which served as a larder.
There was but little there to make a satisfying meal—half a loaf of
bread, a corner of cheese, and a small tube of Chinese-white.
Mechanically he set the things out....
He had finished, and was clearing away, when there came a knock at
the door. His charwoman, whose duty it was to clean his brushes every
week, came in with a card.
"A lady to see you, sir," she said.
Paul read the card in astonishment.
"The Duchess of Winchester," he exclaimed. "What on earth—Show her
in, please." Hastily picking up a brush and the first tube which came
to hand, he placed himself in a dramatic position before his easel and
set to work.
"How do you do, Mr Samways?" said the
"G—good-afternoon," said Paul, embarrassed both by the presence of
a duchess in his studio and by his sudden discovery that he was
touching up a sunset with a tube of carbolic tooth-paste.
"Our mutual friend, Lord Ernest Topwood, recommended me to come to
Paul, who had never met Lord Ernest, but had once seen his name in
a ha'penny paper beneath a photograph of Mr Arnold Bennett, bowed
"As you probably guess, I want you to paint my daughter's
Paul opened his mouth to say that he was only a landscape painter,
and then closed it again. After all, it was hardly fair to bother her
Grace with technicalities.
"I hope you can undertake this commission," she said pleadingly.
"I shall be delighted," said Paul. "I am rather busy just now, but
I could begin at two o'clock on Monday."
"Excellent," said the Duchess. "Till Monday, then." And Paul, still
clutching the tooth-paste, conducted her to her carriage.
Punctually at 3.15 on Monday Lady Hermione appeared. Paul drew a
deep breath of astonishment when he saw her, for she was lovely
beyond compare. All his skill as a landscape painter would be needed
if he were to do justice to her beauty. As quickly as possible he
placed her in position and set to work.
"May I let my face go for a moment?" said Lady Hermione after three
hours of it.
"Yes, let us stop," said Paul. He had outlined her in charcoal and
burnt cork, and it would be too dark to do any more that evening.
"Tell me where you first met Lord Ernest?" she asked as she came
down to the fire.
"At the Savoy, in June," said Paul boldly.
Lady Hermione laughed merrily. Paul, who had not regarded his last
remark as one of his best things, looked at her in surprise.
"But your portrait of him was in the Academy in May!" she smiled.
Paul made up his mind quickly.
"Lady Hermione," he said with gravity, "do not speak to me of Lord
Ernest again. Nor," he added hurriedly, "to Lord Ernest of me. When
your picture is finished I will tell you why. Now it is time you
went." He woke the Duchess up, and made a few commonplace remarks
about the weather. "Remember," he whispered to Lady Hermione as he
saw them to their car. She nodded and smiled.
The sittings went on daily. Sometimes Paul would paint rapidly with
great sweeps of the brush; sometimes he would spend an hour trying to
get on his palette the exact shade of green bice for the famous
Winchester emeralds; sometimes in despair he would take a sponge and
wipe the whole picture out, and then start madly again. And sometimes
he would stop work altogether and tell Lady Hermione about his
home-life in Worcestershire. But always, when he woke the Duchess up
at the end of the sitting, he would say, "Remember!" and Lady Hermione
would nod back at him.
It was a spring-like day in March when the picture was finished,
and nothing remained to do but to paint in the signature.
"It is beautiful!" said Lady Hermione, with enthusiasm. "Beautiful!
Is it at all like me?"
Paul looked from her to the picture, and back to her again.
"No," he said, "not a bit. You know, I am really a landscape
"What do you mean?" she cried. "You are Peter Samways, A.R.A., the
famous portrait painter!"
"No," he said sadly. "That was my secret. I am Paul Samways. A
member of the Amateur Rowing Association, it is true, but only an
unknown landscape painter. Peter Samways lives in the next studio,
and he is not even a relation."
"Then you have deceived me! You have brought me here under false
pretences!" She stamped her foot angrily. "My father will not buy
that picture, and I forbid you to exhibit it as a portrait of
"My dear Lady Hermione," said Paul, "you need not be alarmed. I
propose to exhibit the picture as 'When the Heart is Young.' Nobody
will recognize a likeness to you in it. And if the Duke does not buy
it I have no doubt that some other purchaser will come along."
Lady Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Why did you do it?" she
"Because I fell in love with you."
She dropped her eyes, and then raised them gaily to his. "Mother is
still asleep," she whispered.
"Hermione!" he cried, dropping his palette and putting his brush
behind his ear.
She held out her arms to him.
. . . . . . .
As everybody remembers, "When the Heart is Young," by Paul Samways,
was the feature of the Exhibition. It was bought for 10,000 pounds by
a retired bottle manufacturer, whom it reminded a little of his late
mother. Paul woke to find himself famous. But the success which began
for him from this day did not spoil his simple and generous nature. He
never forgot his brother artists, whose feet were not yet on the top
of the ladder. Indeed, one of his first acts after he was married was
to give a commission to Peter Samways, A.R.A.—nothing less than the
painting of his wife's portrait. And Lady Hermione was delighted with