TWICE…TOLD　TALES
  THE　PROPHETIC　PICTURES
  by　Nathaniel　Hawthorne
  BUT　THIS　PAINTER！〃　cried　Walter　Ludlow；　with　animation。　〃He　not
  only　excels　in　his　peculiar　art；　but　possesses　vast　acquirements　in
  all　other　learning　and　science。　He　talks　Hebrew　with　Dr。　Mather；　and
  gives　lectures　in　anatomy　to　Dr。　Boylston。　In　a　word；　he　will　meet　the
  best　instructed　man　among　us　on　his　own　ground。　Moreover；　he　is　a
  polished　gentleman…　a　citizen　of　the　world…　yes；　a　true　cosmopolite；
  for　he　will　speak　like　a　native　of　each　clime　and　country　of　the　globe
  except　our　own　forests；　whither　he　is　now　going。　Nor　is　all　this
  what　I　most　admire　in　him。〃
  〃Indeed！〃　said　Elinor；　who　had　listened　with　a　woman's　interest
  to　the　description　of　such　a　man。　〃Yet　this　is　admirable　enough。〃
  〃Surely　it　is；〃　replied　her　lover；　〃but　far　less　so　than　his
  natural　gift　of　adapting　himself　to　every　variety　of　character；
  insomuch　that　all　men…　and　all　women　too；　Elinor…　shall　find　a
  mirror　of　themselves　in　this　wonderful　painter。　But　the　greatest
  wonder　is　yet　to　be　told。〃
  〃Nay；　if　he　have　more　wonderful　attributes　than　these；〃　said
  Elinor；　laughing；　〃Boston　is　a　perilous　abode　for　the　poor
  gentleman。　Are　you　telling　me　of　a　painter　or　a　wizard？〃
  〃In　truth；〃　answered　he；　that　question　might　be　asked　much　more
  seriously　than　you　suppose。　They　say　that　he　paints　not　merely　a　man's
  features；　but　his　mind　and　heart。　He　catches　the　secret　sentiments　and
  passions；　and　throws　them　upon　the　canvas；　like　sunshine…　or
  perhaps；　in　the　portraits　of　dark…souled　men；　like　a　gleam　of　infernal
  fire。　It　is　an　awful　gift；〃　added　Walter；　lowering　his　voice　from
  its　tone　of　enthusiasm。　〃I　shall　be　almost　afraid　to　sit　to　him。〃
  〃Walter；　are　you　in　earnest？〃　exclaimed　Elinor。
  〃For　Heaven's　sake；　dearest　Elinor；　do　not　let　him　paint　the　look
  which　you　now　wear；〃　said　her　lover；　smiling；　though　rather　perplexed。
  〃There：　it　is　passing　away　now；　but　when　you　spoke　you　seemed
  frightened　to　death；　and　very　sad　besides。　What　were　you　thinking　of？〃
  〃Nothing；　nothing；〃　answered　Elinor　hastily。　〃You　paint　my　face
  with　your　own　fantasies。　Well；　come　for　me　tomorrow；　and　we　will　visit
  this　wonderful　artist。〃
  But　when　the　young　man　had　departed；　it　cannot　be　denied　that　a
  remarkable　expression　was　again　visible　on　the　fair　and　youthful
  face　of　his　mistress。　It　was　a　sad　and　anxious　look；　little　in
  accordance　with　what　should　have　been　the　feelings　of　a　maiden　on
  the　eve　of　wedlock。　Yet　Walter　Ludlow　was　the　chosen　of　her　heart。
  〃A　look！〃　said　Elinor　to　herself。　〃No　wonder　that　it　startled
  him；　if　it　expressed　what　I　sometimes　feel。　I　know；　by　my　own
  experience；　how　frightful　a　look　may　be。　But　it　was　all　fancy。　I
  thought　nothing　of　it　at　the　time…　I　have　seen　nothing　of　it　since…
  I　did　but　dream　it。〃
  And　she　busied　herself　about　the　embroidery　of　a　ruff；　in　which　she
  meant　that　her　portrait　should　be　taken。
  The　painter；　of　whom　they　had　been　speaking；　was　not　one　of　those
  native　artists　who；　at　a　later　period　than　this；　borrowed　their　colors
  from　the　Indians；　and　manufactured　their　pencils　of　the　furs　of　wild
  beasts。　Perhaps；　if　he　could　have　revoked　his　life　and　prearranged　his
  destiny；　he　might　have　chosen　to　belong　to　that　school　without　a
  master；　in　the　hope　of　being　at　least　original；　since　there　were　no
  works　of　art　to　imitate　nor　rules　to　follow。　But　he　had　been　born
  and　educated　in　Europe。　People　said　that　he　had　studied　the　grandeur
  or　beauty　of　conception；　and　every　touch　of　the　master　hand；　in　all
  the　most　famous　pictures；　in　cabinets　and　galleries；　and　on　the
  walls　of　churches；　till　there　was　nothing　more　for　his　powerful　mind
  to　learn。　Art　could　add　nothing　to　its　lessons；　but　Nature　might。　He
  had　therefore　visited　a　world　whither　none　of　his　professional
  brethren　had　preceded　him；　to　feast　his　eyes　on　visible　images　that
  were　noble　and　picturesque；　yet　had　never　been　transferred　to
  canvas。　America　was　too　poor　to　afford　other　temptations　to　an
  artist　of　eminence；　though　many　of　the　colonial　gentry；　on　the
  painter's　arrival；　had　expressed　a　wish　to　transmit　their　lineaments
  to　posterity　by　means　of　his　skill。　Whenever　such　proposals　were　made；
  he　fixed　his　piercing　eyes　on　the　applicant；　and　seemed　to　look　him
  through　and　through。　If　he　beheld　only　a　sleek　and　comfortable　visage；
  though　there　were　a　gold…laced　coat　to　adorn　the　picture　and　golden
  guineas　to　pay　for　it；　he　civilly　rejected　the　task　and　the　reward。
  But　if　the　face　were　the　index　of　any　thing　uncommon；　in　thought；
  sentiment；　or　experience；　or　if　he　met　a　beggar　in　the　street；　with
  a　white　beard　and　a　furrowed　brow；　or　if　sometimes　a　child　happened　to
  look　up　and　smile；　he　would　exhaust　all　the　art　on　them　that　he　denied
  to　wealth。
  Pictorial　skill　being　so　rare　in　the　colonies；　the　painter　became
  an　object　of　general　curiosity。　If　few　or　none　could　appreciate　the
  technical　merit　of　his　productions；　yet　there　were　points；　in　regard
  to　which　the　opinion　of　the　crowd　was　as　valuable　as　the　refined
  judgment　of　the　amateur。　He　watched　the　effect　that　each　picture
  produced　on　such　untutored　beholders；　and　derived　profit　from　their
  remarks；　while　they　would　as　soon　have　thought　of　instructing　Nature
  herself　as　him　who　seemed　to　rival　her。　Their　admiration；　it　must　be
  owned；　was　tinctured　with　the　prejudices　of　the　age　and　country。
  Some　deemed　it　an　offence　against　the　Mosaic　law；　and　even　a
  presumptuous　mockery　of　the　Creator；　to　bring　into　existence　such
  lively　images　of　his　creatures。　Others；　frightened　at　the　art　which
  could　raise　phantoms；　at　will；　and　keep　the　form　of　the　dead　among　the
  living；　were　inclined　to　consider　the　painter　as　a　magician；　or
  perhaps　the　famous　Black　Man；　of　old　witch　times；　plotting　mischief　in
  a　new　guise。　These　foolish　fancies　were　more　than　half　believed
  among　the　mob。　Even　in　superior　circles　his　character　was　invested
  with　a　vague　awe；　partly　rising　like　smoke　wreaths　from　the　popular
  superstitions；　but　chiefly　caused　by　the　varied　knowledge　and
  talents　which　he　made　subservient　to　his　profession。
  Being　on　the　eve　of　marriage；　Walter　Ludlow　and　Elinor　were　eager
  to　obtain　their　portraits；　as　the　first　of　what；　they　doubtless　hoped；
  would　be　a　long　series　of　family　pictures。　The　day　after　the
  conversation　above　recorded　they　visited　the　painter's　rooms。　A
  servant　ushered　them　into　an　apartment；　where；　though　the　artist
  himself　was　not　visible；　there　were　personages　whom　they　could
  hardly　forbear　greeting　with　reverence。　They　knew；　indeed；　that　the
  whole　assembly　were　but　pictures；　yet　felt　it　impossible　to　separate
  the　idea　of　life　and　intellect　from　such　striking　counterfeits。
  Several　of　the　portraits　were　known　to　them；　either　as　distinguished
  characters　of　the　day　or　their　private　acquaintances。　There　was
  Governor　Burnett；　looking　as　if　he　had　just　received　an　undutiful
  communication　from　the　House　of　Representatives；　and　were　inditing　a
  most　sharp　response。　Mr。　Cooke　hung　beside　the　ruler　whom　he
  opposed；　sturdy；　and　somewhat　puritanical；　as　befitted　a　popular
  leader。　The　ancient　lady　of　Sir　William　Phipps　eyed　them　from　the
  wall；　in　ruff　and　farthingale…　an　imperious　old　dame；　not
  unsuspected　of　witchcraft。　John　Winslow；　then　a　very　young　man；　wore
  the　expression　of　war…like　enterprise；　which　long　afterwards　made
  him　a　distinguished　general。　Their　personal　friends　were　recognized　at
  a　glance。　In　most　of　the　pictures；　the　whole　mind　and　character　were
  brought　out　on　the　countenance；　and　concentrated　into　a　single　look；
  so　that；　to　speak　paradoxically；　the　originals　hardly　resembled
  themselves　so　strikingly　as　the　portraits　did。
  Among　these　modern　worthies　there　were　two　old　bearded　Saints；
  who　had　almost　vanished　into　the　darkening　canvas。　There　was　also　a
  pale；　but　unfaded　Madonna；　who　had　perhaps　been　worshipped　in　Rome；
  and　now　regarded　the　lovers　with　such　a　mild　and　holy　look　that　they
  longed　to　worship　too。
  〃How　singular　a　thought；〃　observed　Walter　Ludlow；　〃that　this
  beautiful　face　has　been　beautiful　for　above　two　hundred　years！　Oh；
  if　all　beauty　would　endure　so　well！　Do　you　not　envy　her；　Elinor？〃
  〃If　earth　were　heaven；　I　might；〃　she　replied。　〃But　where　all　things
  fade；　how　miserable　to　be　the　one　that　could　not　fade！〃
  〃This　dark　old　St。　Peter　has　a　fierce　and　ugly　scowl；　saint
  though　he　be；〃　continued　Walter。　〃He　troubles　me。　But　the　Virgin　looks
  kindly　at　us。〃
  〃Yes；　but　very　sorrowfully；　methinks；〃　said　Elinor。
  The　easel　stood　beneath　these　three　old　pictures；　sustaining　one
  that　had　been　recently　commenced。　After　a　little　inspection；　they
  began　to　recognize　the　features　of　their　own　minister；　the　Rev。　Dr。
  Colman；　growing　into　shape　and　life；　as　it　were；　out　of　a　cloud。
  〃Kind　old　man！〃　exclaimed　Elinor。　〃He　gazes　at　me　as　if　he　were
  about　to　utter　a　word　of　paternal　advice。〃
  〃And　at　me；〃　said　Walter；　〃as　if　he　were　about　to　shake　his　head
  and　rebuke　me　for　some　suspecte