Impracticable as my scheme had at first seemed, the way was thus opened
for its execution. When fairly committed to the purpose, however, the
want of means and the magnitude of the undertaking almost disheartened
me. My original plan embraced a canvas sufficiently large for a
life-size group of the President and entire Cabinet; to paint such a
picture would consume many months, perhaps years. Enthusiasm alone
would never accomplish the work. The few friends to whom I should have
felt at liberty to apply for help were not wealthy. Who outside of
these could be persuaded that a work of the character and proportions
contemplated, undertaken by an artist of no experience in historical
studies, would not end in utter failure?
I had left my home at the usual hour one morning, pondering the
difficulty which, like Bunyan’s lions, seemed now to block the way.
As one alternative after another presented itself to my mind and was
rejected, the prospect appeared less and less hopeful. I at length
found myself in Broadway at the foot of the stairs leading up to my
studio. A gentleman at this moment attracted my attention, standing
with his back towards me, looking at some pictures exposed in the
window of the shop below. Detecting, as I thought, something familiar
in his air and manner, I waited until he turned his face, and then
found I was not mistaken; it was an old acquaintance who five years
before lived near me in Brooklyn, engaged in a similar struggle for a
livelihood with myself, though his profession was law instead of art.
We had both changed our residences and had not met for years. After a
cordial greeting, he accepted my invitation to ascend to the studio. I
had heard that he had been successful in some business ventures, but
the matter made but little impression upon me, and had been forgotten.
Suddenly there seemed to come into my mind the words: “This man has
been sent to you.” Full of the singular impression, I laid before him
my conception. He heard me through, and then asked if I was sure of
President Lincoln’s consent and coöperation. I informed him of the
pledge which had been given me. “Then,” said he, “you shall paint
the picture. Take plenty of time,--make it the great work of your
life,--and draw upon me for whatever funds you will require to the
end.”[1]