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that　I　might　light　my　candle　there；　whenever　I　came　home。　　Mrs。

Parkins　invariably　disregarding　all　instructions；　they　were　never

there。　　Thus　it　happened　that　on　this　occasion　I　groped　my　way　into

my　sitting…room　to　find　the　candle；　and　came　out　to　light　it。



What　were　my　emotions　when；　underneath　the　staircase　lamp；　shining

with　wet　as　if　he　had　never　been　dry　since　our　last　meeting；　stood

the　mysterious　Being　whom　I　had　encountered　on　the　steamboat　in　a

thunderstorm；　two　years　before！　　His　prediction　rushed　upon　my

mind；　and　I　turned　faint。



'I　said　I'd　do　it；'　he　observed；　in　a　hollow　voice；　'and　I　have

done　it。　　May　I　come　in？'



'Misguided　creature；　what　have　you　done？'　I　returned。



'I'll　let　you　know；'　was　his　reply；　'if　you'll　let　me　in。'



Could　it　be　murder　that　he　had　done？　　And　had　he　been　so　successful

that　he　wanted　to　do　it　again；　at　my　expense？



I　hesitated。



'May　I　come　in？'　said　he。



I　inclined　my　head；　with　as　much　presence　of　mind　as　I　could

command；　and　he　followed　me　into　my　chambers。　　There；　I　saw　that

the　lower　part　of　his　face　was　tied　up；　in　what　is　commonly　called

a　Belcher　handkerchief。　　He　slowly　removed　this　bandage；　and

exposed　to　view　a　long　dark　beard；　curling　over　his　upper　lip；

twisting　about　the　corners　of　his　mouth；　and　hanging　down　upon　his

breast。



'What　is　this？'　I　exclaimed　involuntarily；　'and　what　have　you

become？'



'I　am　the　Ghost　of　Art！'　said　he。



The　effect　of　these　words；　slowly　uttered　in　the　thunder…storm　at

midnight；　was　appalling　in　the　last　degree。　　More　dead　than　alive；

I　surveyed　him　in　silence。



'The　German　taste　came　up；'　said　he；　'and　threw　me　out　of　bread。　　I

am　ready　for　the　taste　now。'



He　made　his　beard　a　little　jagged　with　his　hands；　folded　his　arms；

and　said；



'Severity！'



I　shuddered。　　It　was　so　severe。



He　made　his　beard　flowing　on　his　breast；　and；　leaning　both　hands　on

the　staff　of　a　carpet…broom　which　Mrs。　Parkins　had　left　among　my

books；　said：



'Benevolence。'



I　stood　transfixed。　　The　change　of　sentiment　was　entirely　in　the

beard。　　The　man　might　have　left　his　face　alone；　or　had　no　face。



The　beard　did　everything。



He　lay　down；　on　his　back；　on　my　table；　and　with　that　action　of　his

head　threw　up　his　beard　at　the　chin。



'That's　death！'　said　he。



He　got　off　my　table　and；　looking　up　at　the　ceiling；　cocked　his

beard　a　little　awry；　at　the　same　time　making　it　stick　out　before

him。



'Adoration；　or　a　vow　of　vengeance；'　he　observed。



He　turned　his　profile　to　me；　making　his　upper　lip　very　bulky　with

the　upper　part　of　his　beard。



'Romantic　character；'　said　he。



He　looked　sideways　out　of　his　beard；　as　if　it　were　an　ivy…bush。

'Jealousy；'　said　he。　　He　gave　it　an　ingenious　twist　in　the　air；　and

informed　me　that　he　was　carousing。　　He　made　it　shaggy　with　his

fingers　…　and　it　was　Despair；　lank　…　and　it　was　avarice：　tossed　it

all　kinds　of　ways　…　and　it　was　rage。　　The　beard　did　everything。



'I　am　the　Ghost　of　Art；'　said　he。　　'Two　bob　a…day　now；　and　more

when　it's　longer！　　Hair's　the　true　expression。　　There　is　no　other。

I　SAID　I'D　GROW　IT；　AND　I'VE　GROWN　IT；　AND　IT　SHALL　HAUNT　YOU！'



He　may　have　tumbled　down…stairs　in　the　dark；　but　he　never　walked

down　or　ran　down。　　I　looked　over　the　banisters；　and　I　was　alone

with　the　thunder。



Need　I　add　more　of　my　terrific　fate？　　IT　HAS　haunted　me　ever　since。

It　glares　upon　me　from　the　walls　of　the　Royal　Academy；　（except　when

MACLISE　subdues　it　to　his　genius；）　it　fills　my　soul　with　terror　at

the　British　Institution；　it　lures　young　artists　on　to　their

destruction。　　Go　where　I　will；　the　Ghost　of　Art；　eternally　working

the　passions　in　hair；　and　expressing　everything　by　beard；　pursues

me。　　The　prediction　is　accomplished；　and　the　victim　has　no　rest。







OUT　OF　TOWN







SITTING；　on　a　bright　September　morning；　among　my　books　and　papers

at　my　open　window　on　the　cliff　overhanging　the　sea…beach；　I　have

the　sky　and　ocean　framed　before　me　like　a　beautiful　picture。　　A

beautiful　picture；　but　with　such　movement　in　it；　such　changes　of

light　upon　the　sails　of　ships　and　wake　of　steamboats；　such　dazzling

gleams　of　silver　far　out　at　sea；　such　fresh　touches　on　the　crisp

wave…tops　as　they　break　and　roll　towards　me　…　a　picture　with　such

music　in　the　billowy　rush　upon　the　shingle；　the　blowing　of　morning

wind　through　the　corn…sheaves　where　the　farmers'　waggons　are　busy；

the　singing　of　the　larks；　and　the　distant　voices　of　children　at

play　…　such　charms　of　sight　and　sound　as　all　the　Galleries　on　earth

can　but　poorly　suggest。



So　dreamy　is　the　murmur　of　the　sea　below　my　window；　that　I　may　have

been　here；　for　anything　I　know；　one　hundred　years。　　Not　that　I　have

grown　old；　for；　daily　on　the　neighbouring　downs　and　grassy　hill…

sides；　I　find　that　I　can　still　in　reason　walk　any　distance；　jump

over　anything；　and　climb　up　anywhere；　but；　that　the　sound　of　the

ocean　seems　to　have　become　so　customary　to　my　musings；　and　other

realities　seem　so　to　have　gone　aboard　ship　and　floated　away　over

the　horizon；　that；　for　aught　I　will　undertake　to　the　contrary；　I　am

the　enchanted　son　of　the　King　my　father；　shut　up　in　a　tower　on　the

sea…shore；　for　protection　against　an　old　she…goblin　who　insisted　on

being　my　godmother；　and　who　foresaw　at　the　font　…　wonderful

creature！　…　that　I　should　get　into　a　scrape　before　I　was　twenty…

one。　　I　remember　to　have　been　in　a　City　（my　Royal　parent's

dominions；　I　suppose）；　and　apparently　not　long　ago　either；　that　was

in　the　dreariest　condition。　　The　principal　inhabitants　had　all　been

changed　into　old　newspapers；　and　in　that　form　were　preserving　their

window…blinds　from　dust；　and　wrapping　all　their　smaller　household

gods　in　curl…papers。　　I　walked　through　gloomy　streets　where　every

house　was　shut　up　and　newspapered；　and　where　my　solitary　footsteps

echoed　on　the　deserted　pavements。　　In　the　public　rides　there　were

no　carriages；　no　horses；　no　animated　existence；　but　a　few　sleepy

policemen；　and　a　few　adventurous　boys　taking　advantage　of　the

devastation　to　swarm　up　the　lamp…posts。　　In　the　Westward　streets

there　was　no　traffic；　in　the　Westward　shops；　no　business。　　The

water…patterns　which　the　'Prentices　had　trickled　out　on　the

pavements　early　in　the　morning；　remained　uneffaced　by　human　feet。

At　the　corners　of　mews；　Cochin…China　fowls　stalked　gaunt　and

savage；　nobody　being　left　in　the　deserted　city　（as　it　appeared　to

me）；　to　feed　them。　　Public　Houses；　where　splendid　footmen　swinging

their　legs　over　gorgeous　hammer…cloths　beside　wigged　coachmen　were

wont　to　regale；　were　silent；　and　the　unused　pewter　pots　shone；　too

bright　for　business；　on　the　shelves。　　I　beheld　a　Punch's　Show

leaning　against　a　wall　near　Park　Lane；　as　if　it　had　fainted。　　It

was　deserted；　and　there　were　none　to　heed　its　desolation。　　In

Belgrave　Square　I　met　the　last　man　…　an　ostler　…　sitting　on　a　post

in　a　ragged　red　waistcoat；　eating　straw；　and　mildewing　away。



If　I　recollect　the　name　of　the　little　town；　on　whose　shore　this　sea

is　murmuring　…　but　I　am　not　just　now；　as　I　have　premised；　to　be

relied　upon　for　anything　…　it　is　Pavilionstone。　　Within　a　quarter

of　a　century；　it　was　a　little　fishing　town；　and　they　do　say；　that

the　time　was；　when　it　was　a　little　smuggling　town。　　I　have　heard

that　it　was　rather　famous　in　the　hollands　and　brandy　way；　and　that

coevally　with　that　reputation　the　lamplighter's　was　considered　a

bad　life　at　the　Assurance　Offices。　　It　was　observed　that　if　he　were

not　particular　about　lighting　up；　he　lived　in　peace；　but　that；　if

he　made　the　best　of　the　oil…lamps　in　the　steep　and　narrow　streets；

he　usually　fell　over　the　cliff　at　an　early　age。　　Now；　gas　and

electricity　run　to　the　very　water's　edge；　and　the　South…Eastern

Railway　Company　screech　at　us　in　the　dead　of　night。



But；　the　old　little　fishing　and　smuggling　town　remains；　and　is　so

tempting　a　place　for　the　latter　purpose；　that　I　think　of　going　out

some　night　next　week；　in　a　fur　cap　and　a　pair　of　petticoat

trousers；　and　running　an　empty　tub；　as　a　kind　of　archaeological

pursuit。　　Let　nobody　with　corns　come　to　Pavilionstone；　for　there

are　breakneck　flights　of　ragged　steps；　connecting　the　principal

streets　by　back…ways；　which　will　cripple　that　visitor　in　half　an

hour。　　These　are　the　ways　by　which；　when　I　run　that　tub；　I　shall

escape。　　I　shall　make　a　Thermopylae　of　the　corner　of　one　of　them；

defend　it　with　my　cutlass　against　the　coast…guard　until　my　brave

companions　have　sheered　off；　then　dive　into　the　darkness；　and

regain　my　Susan's　arms。　　In　connection　with　these　breakneck　steps　I

observe　some　wooden　cottages；　with　tumble…down　out…houses；　and

back…yards　three　feet　square；　adorned　with　garlands　of　dried　fish；

in　one　of　which　（though　the　General　Board　of　Health　might　object）

my　Susan　dwells。



The　South…Eastern　Company　have　brought　Pavilionstone　into　such

vogue；　with　their　tidal　trains　and　splendid　steam…packets；　that　a

new　Pavilionstone　is　rising　up。　　I　am；　myself；　of　New

Pavilionstone。　　We　are　a　little　mortary　and　limey　at　present；　but

we　are　getting　on　capitally。　　Indeed；　we　were　getting　on　so　fast；

at　one　time；　that　we　rather　overdid　it；　and　built　a　street　of

shops；　the　business　of　which　may　be　expected　to　arrive　in　about　ten

years。　　We　are　sensibly　laid　out　in　general；　and　with　a　little　care

and　pains　（by　no　means　wanting；　so　far）；　shall　become　a　very　pretty

place。　　We　ought　to　be；　for　our　situation　is　delightful；　our　air　is

delicious；　and　our　breezy　hills　and　downs；　carpeted　with　wild

thyme；　and　decorated　with　millions　of　wild　flowers；　are；　on　the

faith　of　a　pedestrian；　perfect。　　In　New　Pavilionstone　we　are　a

little　too　much　addicted　to　small　windows　with　more　bricks　in　them

than　glass；　and　we　are　not　over…fanciful　in　the　way　of　decorative

architecture；　and　we　get　unexpected　sea…views　through　cracks　in　the

street　doors；　on　the　whole；　however；　we　are　very　snug