The Glory of Clementina Wing — John Locke — John Shaqi
The Glory of Clementina Wing
John Locke · en
Meanwhile, in spite of her half-comic despair, the portrait progressed.
She had seized, at any rate, the man’s air of intellectuality, of
aloofness from the practical affairs of life. Unconsciously she had
invested the face with a spirituality which had eluded her conscious
analysis. The artist had worked with the inner vision, as the artist
always does when he produces a great work. For the great work of an
artist is not that before which he stands, and, sighing, says; “This is
fair, but how far away from my dreams!” That is the popular fallacy. The
great work is that which, when he regards it on completion, causes him
to say in humble admiration and modest stupefaction: “How on earth did
the dull clod that is I manage to do it?” For he does not know how he
accomplished it. When a man is conscious of every step he takes in the
execution of a work of art, he is obeying the letter and not the spirit;
he is a juggler with formulas; and formulas, being mere analytical
results, have no place in that glorious synthesis which is
creation—either of a world or a flower or a poem. Clementina, to her
astonishment, regarded the portrait of Ephraim Quixtus, and, like the
First Creator regarding His work, saw that it was good.
“I should never have believed it,” she said.
“What?” asked Quixtus.
“That I should have got all this out of you,” said Clementina.
CHAPTER III
We have heard much of a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. We
know that he was perfect and upright, feared God, and eschewed evil; and
we are told how, on a disastrous afternoon, messenger after messenger
came to him to announce one calamity after the other, culminating in the
annihilation of his entire family, and how the final scorbutic
affliction came shortly afterwards, the anti-climax, it must be
confessed, of his woes, which drove the patient man to open his mouth
and curse his day. Between Job and Dr. Quixtus I doubt whether the like
avalanche of disasters, Pelion on Ossa and Kinchinjunga on Pelion of
misfortunes, ever came thundering down on the head of an upright and
evil-eschewing human creature.