Clarence Glyndon shuts himself up to grind colours and paint pictures in the grand historical school, which nobody buys.

There is even a prejudice against him, as not having studied in the Academy,--as being an amateur.

Who is Mr.Clarence Glyndon?
Oh, the celebrated Pisani's husband! What else?
Oh, he exhibits those large pictures! Poor man! they have merit in their way; but Teniers and Watteau are more convenient, and almost as cheap.

Clarence Glyndon, with an easy fortune while single, has a large family which his fortune, unaided by marriage, can just rear up to callings more plebeian than his own.

He retires into the country, to save and to paint; he grows slovenly and discontented; 'the world does not appreciate him,' he says, and he runs away from the world.