New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1872-05-31
TOM.

or suicide more cOmllOu IndH lONc, VI iOhS
ious mania, or despair; and as poor Tom was
well known, and near akin to many OF our
readers, the history of his picture and himself
seems to us worth the telling. AS for the pic
ture, it is in execution nothing but crude,
strong dash or two of color; only bit of
sandy beach, dead woman washed ashore, a
man keeping watch over her, and bird, the
solitary living thing in the world, disappearing
in the stormy sky, leaving him alone with
his dead. But there is the subtle something
in it which touches us, as do all great utter
ances of truth or human feeling; it is one of
the inspired words, painted, or spoken, or
written, that are strong as love, or grief, or
death, and share their nature.
There was something about the painter
too, from the time he was a boy that set him
apart from other men as Que who had
message given him to utter. After all, God
does give nowadays to certain men special
eTrands to their fellows: and whether it be
to make them cry or laugh, to call them to be
heroes or saints, to show the stupendous joke
or miseyy or comfort under life, or to explain
fishes, or, like Bezaleel, to be "filled with the
Esprit of God in working with iron and
"brass,p they carry about with them the signs
of their commission as plain as the shining on
Moses's face when he came down from
the mountains with the tables of stone.
Even as a boy, Tom knew that he had
an Grand. 1t might be but petty thing,
picture to paint, or crayon sketch or two TO
finish. But it was his work, which no man
could do but himself. He caught hints Of it
every @here in the glass of water Pickering
in his hand or the stone under his feet as
much as in the song nobly sung or the life OF
some other man greatly loved. II was clear
enough to him. but Pickering light or songs
and loves Of others would not make it clear
to the world. There were times when the de-
sire for its utterance was so strong upon him
that if he could have accomplished his work
he would have been ready, shy, hearty, young
fellow "a he was, to cry, Lord now let
"Thy servant depart in peace" lie did not
fall into the usual mistake of genius as to the
ease of delivering his message. He had no
slip-shod dependence on winged Pegasus to
carry him, or draughts from Helicon to give
him divine strength. Slow and .ineessant
work, and unf1inching integrity to his GRAND,
he knew only would carry him to his journeys
end, and he set out on his career CALAMITY.
But Tom was poor, apd-Tom married;
married a woman who thoroughly recognized
him and his errand. They lived in shabby
little house in the suburbs of New-fork,
where their first baby was born house
where the roof leaked, and where the floors
were capetless. But going there, you
found their talk furnished with such
high and noble thoughts, their daily
lives so rich in love, so gay in jests and fan
cies, so sweet and admirable in temper, that
the background of want seemed only meant
70 throw into relief these sunshiny figures
Books, too, music, nature, and art meant so
much more to them than to other men and
women; they drew such strength and wealth
out of even the blades of grass at their gate
or the sunlight on their bare floor, that one
could not but envy the rich heritage that they
would bequeath to their boy. 1t was about
this time that this picture was painted. Men
found in it something of a message from the
gods struggling to be heard; they looked
curiously at Tom and said, Presently we
/" shall have great man among u.s." But
they did not buy the picture. They did not
buy any of Toms pictures.
As years went by this fact forced itself
be fixed his eyes upon the stars the more his
empty pocket took life and gnawed like fox
at his yitals. lie and his wife could have
always found food and royal clothing for
themselves in their consciousness OF their great
work for mankind, but for their boys they
wanted broadcloth, beef, and potatoes to equal
those of their neighbours children across the
way. One day picture auctloneer offered
Tom place as "hacll.n "Giye up this Elem
"ish accuracy and this peculiar fancy which
"struggles through all your work. You can
4" dash me off two or three bold studies day |;
something to catch the public eye Coarse
cas- YOU please You need never put your
"name to them" The wages offered were
competency. 1t was an everyday trans
action; the man had simply to make
a choice between poverty with his
own work and wealth without it. To Tom,
however. il seemed n choice between God and
Mommou. IL threatened to wrench soul and
body asunder. But the children had their
hands upon him. Should they not have their
share of the worlds comfort. gentillty, stylef
Tom went into the road where all hacks tramp
together their trcadmill round which leads no.
where in life or death. He had meant to be
deaf and blind il any Voice summoned him
ont of it. But he never heard again the
Heavenly Gail. HIS body is alive yet. goes
about, with those Of his wife and children
wcll-'ed and wel-to-do. Their floors are car
pe,ed with cheap Brus-elS, and in their clothes
thcy follow the fashions scrupulouSly and
promptly. But Tolu finding this old picture