“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” he replied. “You’re thinking that
it is so simple that the artist could have done it himself without my
assistance. But there you’re mistaken. They can’t, not artists. They
can just paint a picture--some of them--and that’s all. You’ve no
idea.... Well, well.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yes,” he continued; “it’s so. Now turn on. Here’s another of mine.
‘It was the Time of Roses.’ That sounds easy, no doubt; but, mark you,
you have not only to know it--to have read Hood--but--and this is the
secret of my success--to remember it at the right moment.” He almost
glittered with pride. “Turn on,” he said. “‘East and West.’ That’s a
subtle thing. Why ‘East and West’? you say. And then you see it’s an
English girl--the West--holding a Japanese fan--the East. But I’m not
often as tricky as that. A line of poetry is always best; or a good
descriptive phrase, such as ‘Rivals,’ ‘Awaiting Spring’s Return,’ ‘The
Forest Perilous,’ ‘When Nature Sleeps,’ ‘The Coming Storm,’ ‘Sunshine
and Shadow,’ ‘Waiting,’ ‘The Farmer’s Daughter,’ ‘A Haunt of Ancient
Peace.’”
He paused and looked at me.
“They all sound fairly automatic,” he went on; “but that’s a blind.
They want doing. You know the saying, ‘Hard writing makes easy
reading’; well, it’s the same with naming titles. You think it’s
nothing; but that’s only because it means real work. I don’t know how
to explain the gift--uncanny, no doubt. Kind friends have called it
genius. But there it is.”
“I hope the financial results are proportionate,” I said.
“Ah,” he replied, “not always. But how could they be? It’s not only the
expense of getting to the studios--taxis, and so forth--but the mental
wear and tear. Still, I manage to live.”