The People's vindicator. [volume] (Natchitoches, La.) 1874-1883, 1881-02-12


siate Of tho National Academy. one Of
the founders Of the ArtistA' Fund Socis-
ty, and an enthusiast in his profession,
died at his home in Fourth Avenue on
Wednesday night, believing that at last,
after forty years Of labor, he had found
tho secret Of perfected art. A man
more thoroughly enraptured with his
calling never lived. He painted while
daylight lasted, and then spent the even.
Ing in producing the crayOn drawings
20 much admired in the exhibitions at
the Academy Of Design. Though As .
portrait painter he excelled, the dream
Of his life was to produce strong figure
pictures, in which the background of
landscape would form as effective q part
as the figures themselves. This was bis
ruling passion in life, and as he neared
the end the passion grew stronger.
On Wednesday evening, as he lay back
on his pillows, very weak and i'll with
hemorrhage Of the lungs, his wife, who,
with their two children, was watching
at his side, was startled by his sud-
denly rising in bed and crying fever
ishly:
"Quick! give me my palette and
brush. l must paint. Don't attempt
to stop me now, for at last l see it all.
l can do it now, for have just discov.
cred the art through the influence of
visions Of exquisitely graduated music.
It is plain rs day at last" His wife,
alarmed at his excitement, made weak
attempt to dissuade him, but as opposi.
ton only increased his excitement, and
it was evident that bis end was very
near, she humored him. His paints,
brushes and canvas were brought to
him, and his fearful relatives arranged
the coverings of the bed 80 that they
would look more like the drapery of his
studio. He began his work with a haste
amounting almost to frenzy.
'At last, ut last!" he cried. ~ have
found the beauty which all my life and
over all the world have been strug-
Cling for"
He painted faster and faster, evident
~ believing that the canvas would show
the beauty that he conceived, although it
was in truth sad realization of the con.
cepdon. 1t was late in the day when
he began his death.bed picture. 1t
grew darker and darker as he went on,
and his sorrowing family sat around
him powerless to ease his last moments.
At last it grew so dark that even he in
his excitement noticed it. .
Let US 60 to the studio," he cried,
suddenly.
"No, no; not tonight. Wait until
Tomorrow"
1--WE must 60 to the studio," he ex-
claimed, making an effort to rise to his
feet. The tax upon his strength was too
great; without another word he fell back
on his pillows dead.
Henry A: Loop, the artist whose
painting, the "Echo," attracted atten.
ton in the Centennial Art Gallery, said
last evening: ~ knew John Pope for
twenty years, and more honest, earn
est and devoted student of art never
met. When he studied in Paris with
Couture, William II. Hunt was his col.
league, and they returned to Boston to-
gether. Pope, after a short season
there, went to San Francisco and then
returned to New York. where he has
lived ever since. He was a singularly
quiet man, worshiped his family, and
was much loved in return. He con.
stantly improved, his last portraits COM
pairing most favorably with those of
Baker. Though he did not exhibit Law.
ishly, he will unquestionably be missed
in the Academy, where his delightfully."-
executed little crayons were always sur.
rounded by an enthusiastic host Of con.
aOisseurs.'
Mr.. Pope was sixty years old. Ho
bad been i'll only week.-New York
Sun.