The Yellow Globe - Alexander W Drake

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Yellow Globe by Alexander W. Drake. Returning from the
club at an hour long past midnight, I noticed a
peculiar looking person of medium height, somewhat angular, with sallow
dark complexion, dressed like any other well to do person,

(00:22):
gazing intently at the large yellow globe of colored fluid
in a druggist's window. The streets were deserted, and his
whole attention seemed riveted on that particular yellow spot. A
few nights later, about one o'clock, I saw the man
again at the same window. So taking refuge in the

(00:44):
shadow of a house opposite, I watched him unobserved. He
stood looking earnestly at the bright yellow center of the
large globe. Now he held his finger out as though
he were trying some effect, or placed to his hand
in silhouette against the bright background. Then he moved forward

(01:04):
and backward, with his head bent, first on one side
and then on the other, as though he were looking
for something beyond and through the fluid. At last he
walked away, casting glances backward at the fascinating yellow light,
and disappeared in the darkness. A week passed and I

(01:26):
saw him for the third time again scrutinizing the yellow globe.
When he laughed, I followed him, and as we passed
the street lamp, I accosted him. At first I thought
he resented it, but after a moment I ventured to say,
I have observed you gazing into the druggist's window, and

(01:48):
I must say my curiosity has been excited to know
what you find of such interest in a druggist's yellow light.
Then we walked on for some blocks in silence, and
I thought I had offended him. But after a while
he said, slowly, the hope of my life is, to

(02:08):
a certain extent, bound up in that yellow spot the
center of that globe. But pardon me, you are a
total stranger and no one. But just then I interrupted
him by remarking, what a beautiful effect of light through
the street, and how soft and velvety the shadows look.

(02:31):
There was another long pause, and then he said, you
seem to take pleasure in the effects of light and shade. Oh, yes,
I answered, I really enjoy nature very much. What would
you think of pursuing an effect year after year as
I have done? He asked, Now we were fairly launched,

(02:53):
and I noticed as we passed the various gas lights.
What a peculiar, wistful, far away look the man had,
and would a thoroughly artistic make up. I also noticed
that at every turn of the street he seemed to
be looking for something. He would pause now and then
and stand in utter silence, watching some unusual effect, in

(03:16):
the same intent manner with which he had looked at
the druggist's light. In the meantime, we were getting into
narrower streets, and as the shadows of the tall buildings
partly hit us, he would give me bits of conversation,
always on nature or kindred subjects. Yes, he said, the

(03:38):
mistake that most painters make, especially the realists, is that
they paint nature as they think they see it. But
what of it? If art is not more than nature,
it is not art, Why, he said, Look at the
Romantic school, both old and modern. Was it not always

(04:01):
the embodiment of an idea? Did they not always make
nature do their bidding with as much or as little
of herself as they chose? There is Monticelli, what a
wealth of beautiful color. He takes what he wants and
adds his own conception of beauty of color, so that
you get his groups of figures, rich and glowing and harmonious.

(04:27):
So with de Lacroix, so with Turner look at his
slave ship. All these men borrowed from nature, so far
as they chose to embody their own idea of what
they wished to express. By this time we had reached
the lower part of the city, and the streets became
even narrower, and the odor is more disagreeable. There was

(04:52):
a sense of great coolness, like the wind from the
water on we walked. I became more and more interested,
and occasionally made a remark to keep the conversation going,
while my companion stopped from time to time to watch
some new effect, as though he were afraid something would
escape him. Yes, he said, I have spent years in

(05:16):
an experiment which I hope soon to complete. I have
walked the streets by day and night. I have sailed
on rivers, I have looked through old doorways, have studied
all kinds of vegetation and tree forms suited to my
idea and to my notion of sky effects, old iron work,

(05:37):
old houses, old fences and windows. In fact, all nature
has been to me a great storehouse from which to
select my material By this time we had reached the
river front, and although long past midnight, I was so
much interested in finding out what manner of man I

(05:57):
had chanced upon, that I would gladly have walked until daylight.
I feared every moment that he would bid me good night,
but if anything, he grew more confidential. My chance remark
about effects had evidently won him for some reason. As
we walked on, the spars and vessels at the wharves

(06:19):
were almost black against the sky, while the lights twinkled
across the river and the stars shone overhead. Suddenly we
turned a sharp corner and came to a great pile
of old buildings with steep slate roofs, evidently in their
better days sail lofts, and now in the gloom of

(06:40):
one of the tallest of these buildings, he stopped, and
I thought was about to say good night. For a
time he stood as though he were thinking what he
had better do. Finally, he asked, will you come up
to my room? It is up many flights of stairs,
but I think you may perhaps be interested in what

(07:00):
I have to show you. As we entered the door,
which he unlocked with an old fashioned iron key, he said,
give me your hand. This building is unoccupied a night,
with the exception of myself and a watchman who has
a small room on the ground floor. So saying, he
led me up the creaking stairs in absolute darkness. A

(07:24):
strong smell of oakum and tar pervaded the place. On
reaching the top floor, both of us out of breath.
He fumbled for another key, with which he unlocked the
door of his room. Then he excused himself and left
me standing in darkness while he proceeded to strike a light.
What a curious room. It was an enormous loft, with

(07:48):
a peaked roof and horizontal beams joining the sides of
the building, and several windows of medium size, evidently an
old sail loft, but now filled with a most extraordinary
collect action of queer objects. At one end of the
room were large panes of glass set in upright movable frames,

(08:09):
some of them smeared over with a peculiar mixture. At
the other end of the room was a long, plain
wooden table, and at its extreme end stood one of
the panes of glass. Back of this I noticed a
globe of yellow fluid, something like those used in the
Druggist's window, but not so large. The back of the

(08:29):
globe again was a small lamp. In another corner of
the room was a gigantic thistle, now dead, planted in
a large flower pot. Near it, I saw a stuffed
blue heron. But most interesting of all, at the extreme
end of another deal table was a model in clay
of what seemed to be an old English manor house,

(08:53):
noble in proportion, exquisite in line, and with little glass windows.
Back of this model was one of the large upright
frames holding a pane of yellow glass. Here and there
were small models of fences, miniature bits of ironwork, gateways,
et cetera. On the walls were nailed the most eccentric sketches.

(09:17):
There were gigantic studies of weeds, foreground plants, done with
strong effects in charcoal, and at one end of the
room a water color drawing on brown paper of a
great rose tree, like an enlarged rose bush. From the
ceiling hung globes filled with different colored fluids and old
ship lanterns, evidently for some use, not objects of bric

(09:40):
a brac. In other words, I had been admitted into
an immense workshop where everything had its purpose for the
work in hand only I noticed that a small portion
of the room was screened off, probably as a bedroom.
Near the stove. On one side was a cheap round table,
on which were a book or two and some newspapers,

(10:03):
as well as several new clay pipes. I have given
only an idea of my first hasty survey of the room.
I was constantly discovering new objects of interest. Several large flat,
white porcelain dishes with lips at the end seemed to
have held colored liquids of various kinds which had dried,
leaving a sediment in the bottom. Many sheets of drying

(10:26):
paper on stretchers were standing about the room. This was
not the den of an elegant dilettante, but the workshop
of a man in earnest about something. And now, as
we settled down in the large leather covered arm chairs
and the long clay pipes were lighted, my strange companion
became more confidential, although it was plain to be seen

(10:48):
that by nature he was a recluse and perhaps a
brooding melancholy man. After looking me over intently, as though
he were studying my first impression of the place, he began,
You are evidently much surprised and bewildered by the mass
of objects with which I am surrounded. But they all

(11:09):
mean a great deal to me. They all have their
place in a new creation I am evolving. They have
been collected at great expense of time and trouble to
help me carry out the idea I am striving to express.
Let me explain. At first I wished to render a
haunted house which should be not only uncanny and weird,

(11:33):
but beautiful as well, In fact, so beautiful that at
first you would miss the horrible and mysterious and notice
the beautiful. Only how many effects I have studied for
this alone. The silver, gray, cold effect was the one
I had first thought of as conveying an impression of weirdness.

(11:55):
But I finally settled on a scheme in which the
whole picture should be flooded in a gold and light,
but a light that never was on sea or land,
something of the effect that you might possibly see on
an Indian summer day, when you feel an awful stillness
in nature, when the little birds forget to sing and

(12:17):
sit in the sunshine as though they were paralyzed, when
even the trees and flowers and all growing things seemed
to be under some magic spell. When as you start
to walk, you suddenly stand still, as if fascinated by
the sunlight. When the motion of everything in nature seems suspended,

(12:38):
you can hardly understand, he added, what this haunted house
means to me. Windows have grown to have human looks,
at times almost terrible. Old fences and iron works have
as keen expressions as individuals. In fact, this whole house
wears its personality well. I am often deeply depressed by it. Ah,

(13:04):
I have had my life's sorrow and trouble and horrible.
He stopped. Suddenly, did I observe a faint gleam of
something like a pained, agonized look in the sudden expression
of his eyes and face. If so, it was gone
in a moment, and the soft, beautiful look returned, although
he seemed a trifle embarrassed. Yes, he continued, I have

(13:29):
worked many years at this haunted house. All there is
in me shows itself here to one who can read it.
In its various moods and parts. Sorrow, love, hope, forgiveness
all are expressed here. And if I can leave behind
me this one great picture, I shall be satisfied. Even

(13:51):
if I never do another. How long I have worked
and how earnestly I have studied for this result. Do
you see those globes filled with fluid, and those upright
panes of glass set in frames. They are all parts
of my experiment, all yellow sunsets and peculiar effects of

(14:11):
yellow light, yellow lights shining through mists and fogs. Why
look here? And he handed me a large sketch book
filled with hundreds of studies. In one, the trees appeared
in silhouette against the sunset sky. In another there would
be only a gigantic thistle or a great rank weed,
with the sky for a background. The house, he said,

(14:37):
was not so difficult to matter, for I had in
memory a beautiful old manor house, with its quaint gables
and angles and picturesque windows. Was it a look of
horror on the man's face as he spoke of the windows.
After an awkward silence, he resumed, Yes, I have thought

(14:57):
and planned and worked over this picture free years. Then,
as we smoked in silence, I had a good opportunity
to observe him more minutely. It was evident that gentle
blood ran in his veins. His head was massive and strong.
There was an indescribable softness about his dark eyes, although

(15:17):
they showed latent fire. He had a great mass of
luxuriant black hair. His beard and mustache were rather long
and very becoming. But now he seemed to feel my glances,
and his manner became nervous and agitated. When he again
raised his eyes to mine, they had grown cold and hard.

(15:40):
To return to my favorite subject, he said, I am
going to have my vegetation on a grand scale. I
will have thistles as large as trees if they suit
my purpose. Rose bushes shall be rose trees. But the
air of mystery and weirdness? How are you going to
manage that? I asked. He did not answer me at once,

(16:02):
but after a while he said slowly, the mysterious will
be there whatever else is lacking. And I intend to
get such an effect that if innocent children come near
the picture, they will walk tiptoe with their fingers on
their lips. Strange to say, I have decided to do
it in water color and not in oil. Although one

(16:25):
unquestionably does not get such solidity in water color, it
is better suited to my purpose. Look at those square
porcelain dishes with lips and those great sheets of paper
near them all parts of the experiments I have tried.
I can flow washes so transparent that they are like
air itself. And as for a variety of texture differences

(16:46):
of gradation, look at that, so saying, he handed me
a sheet of paper that glowed like sunset, while the
gray house in the middle distance looked as though it
were seen through golden mists, whereas though its gray were
powdered with gold dust. That, he said, is the only
one of hundreds of experiments I made before I reached

(17:09):
with certainty what I wished to express in yellow light.
I see you are looking at the sketch of the
rose tree. Yes, I replied, I am very much interested.
Oh well, he said, they are all part and lot
of my final picture, which is now almost completed. Perhaps

(17:30):
you would like to see how I proceed from time
to time with my experiments. He then turned the lights
almost out. How uncanny it all seemed to me as
I stood long past midnight in the dim, shadowy loft.
But I was so thoroughly interested that I did not

(17:50):
indulge long in reflections. In a few moments, he lighted
a small lamp behind the great pane of yellow glass,
which I now saw was smeared over with a weird
kind of sky, while the model of the house was
almost in silhouette against it. In another moment, he had
lighted a little lamp under the table, which shone through

(18:12):
a small pool or pond, also made of yellow glass,
which in turned through a soft light over the front
of the house. Then he illuminated the interior of his house,
and through the little windows gleamed a melancholy light, subdued
here and there by bits of paint, carefully and most
artistically added to the windows. Now he placed a small

(18:35):
bronze heron on the shore of the miniature pond, then
some bits of weeds and grasses on one side. He
adjusted a group of thistles, and finally the great rose
tree and miniature at one end of the house. To
these he kept adding other objects, among them a small
sun dial. Then he led me to the other end

(18:57):
of the room, and by some hidden mechanism, through a soft,
delicious but uncanny yellow glow over the whole. The great
loft was now at midnight darkness and gloom, and only
this beautiful but almost specterlike, haunted little spot, glowing with
such strange and fascinating light. How real it appeared. I

(19:20):
was riveted to the spot. The singular beauty of this
miniature house and its surroundings grew on me. We both
stood in absolute silence. What strange, hidden something was there
about it that affected me so curiously I felt cold
chills begin to creep over me. The stillness became awful.

(19:44):
I looked at my companion. He seemed lost in reverie.
But it was not merely seeming. It was with real
horror that he stood gazing at those little glass windows.
I do not know how long we stood thus, but
at last he turned up the light, and I noticed
how pale he had become, and how absorbed was his manner.

(20:07):
Now he said, I will show you the picture. He
went to the further end of the room and pulled
a large curtain aside, exposing the painting to my view.
You see, all the appliances of my model are but
mere hints to me. I use them as I use nature,
and as a figure artist uses a lay figure, taking

(20:31):
only so much as I care for. If I had
been impressed before with all I had seen, how much
more was I impressed with the picture, How beautiful was
the sky painted or was it real? Now I could
well understand all that he had worked so hard to accomplish. Again,

(20:53):
I began to feel a mysterious awe, cold shivers creeping
over me. And again the painter's manner changed. He looked
pale and hangard, and an expression of pain and anguish
seemed to show itself in his whole being. Another awkward pause,
while the beautiful yellow sky glowed like light through amber,

(21:17):
A queer, far away, hold your breath sort of feeling
came over me. I looked at the front of the house.
The paths were choked with great weeds. The sun dial
was moss covered, and on it was a lizard so
quiet that it seemed petrified. On the shore of the pond,
the herons stood motionless. The little birds were sitting hushed

(21:40):
in the branches of the rose tree. Great thistles, almost black,
were in the left foreground, and the gigantic rose tree
was blooming with beauty. But the something which made me
shudder was the queer, fascinating light shining through the windows,
which affected me like a wail from the dead. I

(22:00):
expected the next moment to hear a piercing cry from
within the house. You seem impressed, he said, very gently,
and his voice sounded sweet and low. He replaced the
curtain over the picture, and as he did so, said
slowly and sadly, only a man with a haunted heart,

(22:21):
and paint a haunted house end of the yellow globe.