Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-06-09
FULFILLMENT.

VIC utu our SUuulOS On ulHeIenU uOOTS VI
the same house, Bernard Green's being or
the top floor, mine Immediately below. II
was an old house in a quaint bystreet in
Chelsea-a house with strange and unex
pected hooks and crannies, as though the
rooms and staircases had been designed in
discriminatory by different hands and hat
never fitted together properly. Only time
had shaken them together somewhat ant
smothed the irregularities.
We both had dreams of all we were tt
do in the world of art at that time. l be
lieve we each saw in sort of mental pic
ture stone tablet fixed outside our respec
tive windows proclaiming to future wor
shippers of genius the fact that we ha(
stamped our respective personalities OF
that particular set of rooms. So far as
am concerned, the dreams have remained
dreams. I am still rank outsider, from
my own point of view, although probably
l admit the fact to myself alone in my
own severely practical moments. Bu
with Bernard it was different as all the
world knows. He made his own fiery
mark on the scroll of fame-madc it, too
at the eleventh hour.
III. ~ was ~ nu0o iio s''ouo ,ii . Loloo
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taa, puo - 20 io ,:. 1., s.i. "na iSs Ia
uianoo n..s ,l nv qul.o uieu aw"y plooap ~
~; n0s e1, VIII io was aiw"ya " s.i"nso po
uncanny beliefs. Only those intimate witt
him knew anything of the curious 1ight
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s1so any iioso aeeply loo'1l pviiol was Il
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mayI ~, .lio ,i i".oa a,3 'p.ou ol
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a. aooso .no l,e.'aen,y sioune,ss wv lnono
aa CIV "uie i;a;, 90 o.'s lal =, 20 CO.
aonte,,t4i; s =, p,p.s ,O :, No'e - pi0oiN
w. ara III a, ..ia ,u;+l
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lsSh - :, T.. ,,a,,,;,a Ill, ..n,,a ~
tool o,,,,a.l. a+na,,is,,, ~ So ,,aI;ouo /,
10 ,,arso,,a1 da,;l PA i, ~ ,ors1,aI III,
~ the dauil ~ thosa who baliara ne do
And IL had to linn that devil l shoult
paint woman."
cold Ia,rh;nn
You do not understand, he answered
81 should mint . boartif,,l ,rn,nanMs
woman With faca rrandIn ,,itrine,l, sor
rowful. a face scornfully impatient of thu
narrow, or the mean, or the sordid, face
nodded by suffering and passion and cen
turtles of splendid, silent loneliness. -
l believe | thought he was mad. l re
membered the saying that we are all mac
upon one point or another But now, after
all these years, dare not express an opin
ion. can only tell my story in all its bare
reality. Up to that time Bernard Greer
had given but little promise of any rea
genius. True he had worked hard, and ht
understood thoroughly the technicalities Of
his art. But he painted pictures as sc
many others paint them-as | paint then
to this day-skillful delineations of certain
hackneyed subjects absolutely correct from
the schools point of view Of form and col
or But he huneered for something more
he cried out that this was not art AnG
one night his hunger found expression il
words that will haunt me until follow
with the trembling hone that I may fine
him in the land of shadows.
We were sitting together in the room h,
used as a studio, almost in darkness. Il
was a pusty night in March. with the vino
from the river gathering ceaselessly against
the old house and rattling it's crazy win
dows. A hundred ghostly noises seemed