When this feeling was at its height, a friend, before
unknown, came to his aid.
"A gentleman, whose rich domain he chanced to approach in his wayward
rovings, perceived his abilities, understood his unhappiness, and
aroused him from inaction by a call upon his professional skill. The
artist obeyed, but he could not subdue the mood which possessed him. No
brilliant scene arose to his fancy, no humorous incident took form and
color from his pencil, and the fair landscape around appeared to mock
rather than cheer his destiny. He could not bring himself into relation
with subjects thus breathing of hope and gayety, but found inspiration
only in the records of human sorrow. As the royal mourner bade her
companions sit upon the ground and 'tell sad stories of the death of
kings,' the pensive artist found something analogous to his own fate in
the story of Hagar and Ishmael. He painted them as having followed up a
spent water-course, in hopes of finding wherewith to quench their
thirst, and sinking under the disappointment. He neither saw nor painted
the angel of God who showed the fountain in the wilderness, and yet the
angel was there, for now the sufferer acknowledges that early
vicissitudes nerved him for high endeavor, rendered his vision piercing,
his patience strong, and his confidence firm, and that this incidental
effort to triumph over difficulties was the first of a series which
inspired his subsequent career.
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