The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1875-03-25
FUncIler.

Il
nips me brings a reminiscence of him
Did every artist realize more fully th'
| joys and sorrows of Bohemia than tina
happy wretch?
Ask those well-to-dO but only hal
as happy fellows at tine club. Not {
man of them but will have gOOC
word for Funcher, now he's gone.
He tCds the artist we read about. In
the first place he was as poor as q raj
in black vault.
Not unlike him either, for he lived
in a golden realm, half the time with
out bread and butter, and nearly all
/ the time forgetting the want of it.
Certainly all the time Disgusting the
want of it with ingenuity OF a creative
mind that could make everything al
will except food.
Well, Of course he was a genius,
Even Di Vinei Vert who plOdded on
to fortune in the next studio-and was
only saved from hating him open
ly by the prOvidential fact that Fun
cher's genius would not sell his pic
tures-acknowledged that much.
Perhaps L ought to prove it in JUS
tice to his memory. More than q
hundred good fellows will, lam sure,
lay their pencils down this morning
and read such proof with pleasure.
Not that they need it. Oh, no; but
now that Funcher is gone they all
burn to see justice done to him. OF
course they do. They always looked
at him out of one corner of the eye
when he was with them, as though
his genius was liable to flame out sue
cessfuIly at some unexpected moment
and ruin a score OF them.
But it never did.
I'll tell you how I knew he was born
an artist. He corrected the aberra-
tions of nature without being aware
of it. That light blue eye that often
had the water of starvation in it was
the eve of a seer, and beheld the ulti-
mate beauty OF which the scattering
and struggling fragments in the eX-
ternal world were only the dismem-
bered and futile parts. There was
something under the SCARED surface
of nature that made him sing. What
divine intimatiOn it was 1 cannot
tell. That it was an essential truth,
deep broader harmony than our
duller senses, attUned only to the in
dividual melody of this or that man.
Hesitation, could apprehend, L do not
hesitate to assert.
The clouds. poured out for him an
invisible wine the gnarled and dig
figured trunks bore golden fruit fol
him unseen, and the honey of beauty
was stored in their dusky boles.
/ found him once, drunken with
the mild tOxieation of midsummer
almost shoeless, his hands and face
SCARED by brambles, his cheeks sunk.
en-, wandering with his kit in the
mountains, and making pictures that
nobody would buy. EXultant va
grant that he was, heard his Alpine
choral long before came upon him.
Then it was that beheld vagabond.
age glorified, and / said to myself
Funcher alone of all the world is trav.
cling the backward path to the prime
val happiness Of Eden.
What woodcraft was this What a
strange intimacy with the inRnimate
beauties of the outdoor world Cali
ban and AreGL combined, he seemed
to defy the elements while he raI
wild among them. Whether the fint
enthusiasm that was in him lent him
a subtitle power and was indeed the
protecting talisman against all the
lurking ills of nature, will not pre-
tend to say. But this know-nsr.
row-chested, anemic, and feebly en-
dowed as he was with physical health,
he turned his environment by some
witchery of his own into beneficent
domain of freedom and safety.
Perhaps you have encountered such
an one yourself. IF so, you will un-
derstand me. / remember how that
burly academic Pitwalk struggled and
fought to get up an attachment fol
nature. But she was never more than
a deceitfnl courteZan to him. Nay,
NAV say that she was to all intents s
Borgia in her treatment to him. Rug
| ged, stalwart, defiant, he went to hel
rocky boudoirs only to be poisoned
Her marshes eXhaled fever at him.
The most aromatic woods shot rheu.
matism into him. Her daintiesi
thiekets held virus that corrOded his
blood. Her mysterious agents crawl.
ed out of the caves and ,hissed at him
Her insects goaded him past endur.
ance, and the very shafts of sunlight
fell upon him like q golden sledgC
and struck him down. Nature speW.
ed him out of her mouth.
But the Academy gave him q safe
asylum from her.
Funcher was to me curious phys
Illogical study. Without having any
OF those symptoms of hysteria thaf
disturb lesser poets, he saw more il
| nature than she cared to reveal Il
most men, and 1 was often temuteC
when listening to him to believe il
that fanciful Swedenborgian doctrine
which gives an ethereal and perfect
inner form to all physical and imper
feet things. He never argued abou
art f; he had faith in it s.; that wa:
enough. His joy was not an ideal o
form and color presented to his minC
by q physical suggestion. It was al
inner fact apprebended by the sense
Ionce tried to obtain from him a rs
| tional explanation of the delights Ger
tain sombre grove and CLINT OF waite
and strip of taWny sand gavehim II,
] made q half dozen color studies of il
and to me was clutching after an un
attainsble and mystical significance
Look at it as L might, and / walked
purposely to the scene three or fou
times in as many conditions of the at
mosphere, it failed to inspire me
There were the impenetrable trees, tn,
same weary, unimpressive pool, anC
the little sand bank. I looked at al
lmpassively, and wondered what Their
was in it thst the artist
1 Isuppose that should be still wan
dering, if it had not been that I wa!
i'll for long time with fever, ant
coming in my release upon tina
scene, keen with convalescence,
suddenly beamed upon me with
new and unmistakable kindness an,
significance. There was no chang
in this materiality. / recogized tn
same colOrs. 1t seemed that the sam
birds must be twittering in the branch
es. But a new light was on it all
The impenetrable trees betrayed quie
depth I had never suspected. Tn
white gleam ofthe water on the blacl
shadows had special kindness 70