English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
And at last I discovered this photographic phoenix, whose nest, if I
may so term it, was in a retired suburb which I do not care to
particularise. Upon the street level was a handsome plate-glass window,
in which, against a background of dark purple hangings and potted ferns,
were displayed cartes, cabinets, and groups, in which not even my
trained faculties could detect the least inferiority to the more costly
productions of the West-end, while the list of prices that hung by the
door was conceived in a spirit of exemplary modesty. After a brief
period of hesitation I stepped inside, and, on stating my wish to be
photographed at once, was invited by a very civil youth with a slight
cast in his eye to walk upstairs, which I accordingly did.
I mounted flight after flight of stairs, till I eventually found myself
at the top of the house, in an apartment pervaded by a strong odour of
chemicals, and glazed along the roof and the whole of one side with
panes of a bluish tint. It was empty at the moment of my entrance, but,
after a few minutes, the photographer burst impetuously in--a tall young
man, with long hair and pale eyes, whose appearance denoted a nervous
and high-strung temperament. Perceiving him to be slightly overawed by a
certain unconscious dignity in my bearing, which frequently does produce
that effect upon strangers, I hastened to reassure him by discriminating
eulogies upon the specimens of his art that I had been inspecting
below, and I saw at once that he was readily susceptible to flattery.
'You will find me,' I told him frankly, 'a little more difficult to
satisfy than your ordinary _clientele_; but, on the other hand, I am
peculiarly capable of appreciating really good work. Now I was struck at
once by the delicacy of tone, the nice discrimination of values, the
atmosphere, gradation, feeling, and surface of the examples displayed in
your window.'
He bowed almost to the ground; but, having taken careful note of his
prices, I felt secure in commending him, even to the verge of
extravagance; and, besides, does not the artistic nature demand the
stimulus of praise to enable it to put forth its full powers?
He inquired in what style I wished to be taken, whether full-length,
half-length, or vignette. 'I will answer you as concisely as possible,'
I said. 'I have been pressed, by one whose least preference is a law to
me, to have a photograph of myself executed which shall form a
counterpart or pendant, as it were, to her own. I have, therefore, taken
the precaution to bring her portrait with me for your guidance. You will
observe it is the work of a firm in my opinion greatly
overrated--Messrs. Lenz, Kamerer, & Co.; and, while you will follow it
in style and the disposition of the accessories, you will, I make no
doubt, produce, if you take ordinary pains, a picture vastly superior in
artistic merit.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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