He Destroyed

Gauguins Original Work!

A T the end of 1901, when the famous painter, Paul Gauguin, decided to end his days in the Marquesas islands, his property and possessions n Tahiti were sold to Mr. Nordman, of Papeete. In that connection it is not renerally known that the now well-known )scar G. Nordman, of Papeete, destroyed nillions of francs worth of Gauguin’s :arvings. paintings, statuettes, etc. Their 'alue, of course, was then not even guessed at.

Oscar was sent by his father to super 'ise the clearing of the newly-acquired >roperty. Oscar was afraid of spooks, so le made a dead set at all the doors, window-panels, house-posts, etc., because hey were all carved and painted. They were used to start the kitchen fire, when naking Oscar’s coffee and cooking his ood.

The ceilings were made of carved loards, and these disappeared. A school eacher took them away and sold them or a small profit.

When, years later, Gauguin’s paintings were regarded by the world as priceless, aany members of different institutions rom all over the world arrived in Tahiti, nd Oscar was questioned closely about he disappearance of the many different rticles given into his care. Oscar then ealised his mistakes.

On this, Oscar Nordman made com aent;— At the time when I was destroying lauguin’s things, I became afflicted with ash, and my body itched intolerably. At

the command of my uncle. Charles Thompson, I was taken to Tiurai, the native healer, to see what he could do.

When we confronted Tiurai, he lost no time in saying that he guessed the reason of our visit. “Go back home,” he said, “and open a can of salmon. Pour the liquid only into a tub of luke-warm water and bathe in it. But remember that the liquid only is to be used—destroy the meat.”

When we got home, we did as the healer directed.

Next day, accompanied by my uncle, I reported to Tiurai. To his astonishment, I was worse than on the previous day.

“Mr. Thomson,” he said “You are the cause of this boy not getting well. You wanted the meat that the can contained, and I made you understand that this should be destroyed, so no one could eat it.”

My uncle admitted eating it.

“So,” said Tiurai. “Go back home and start all over again. Bury the meat, bathe in the water, as I already prescribed, and come and see me tomorrow.”

The next day I was well.

But, somehow, I think now there was a connection between the affliction and the sin I committed in destroying Gauguin’s creations.