Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2093 page)

Out of the mass of his new designs, Mr. Collins selected two, which, when completed, were exhibited with other pictures in his usual style, at the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1817. They were entitled, “Fishermen coming Ashore before Sunrise,” and “Sunrise.” To the latter picture, a melancholy interest attaches itself. As it was the first, so it was among the last of the great sea-pieces he ever painted; a repetition of it, having been produced by him at the Exhibition of 1846, the year in which his employments in the Art ceased for the public eye for ever!

In “Fishermen coming Ashore before Sunrise,” the left corner of the sky is tinged by a mild, dawning light, which rises over a bank of misty vapour, and touches the wild, sharp edges of a large cloud, stretching across the heaven towards the light. Above this, still lingers the deep, purple, transparent atmosphere of the departing night, studded, in one or two places with the glimmer of a fading star. Beneath, the fresh, buoyant sea, dances onward to the foreground, garnished here and there fantastically with the rising light. In front, a single fishing-boat — (whose large sail, flapping lazily against the mast, rises grandly against the lighter part of the sky) — is stranded in shallow water. Around, and on it, stand the burly fishermen, hauling in their nets over the wet sand. In the distance is seen a town, faintly discernible on the cliffs that rise on the right hand of the picture; while, on the horizon, appears the sail of another boat, approaching the beach. The tone of colour in this elabourate work is dark, yet transparent representing a sort of brightening obscurity, and suggests at every point the mysterious morning stillness which reigns over the scene. The picture was purchased by the late Mrs. Hand.

Of “Sunrise,” I am enabled to provide a graphic and masterly criticism, extracted from Mr. Carey’s “Descriptive Catalogue of the Gallery of Sir J. F. Leicester, Bart;” (afterwards Lord de Tabley) in whose collection the picture was placed.

“Two fisher-boys are here, on the shore, at low water. One is kneeling in a front view, with a turbot in his hand, and his fish-basket beside him. He is looking up, in conversation with his companion, who stands beside him with his back towards the spectator. The latter has his prawn-nets suspended upon an implement like a short boat-hook, over his shoulder; and has also a small basket, slung at his back. The reflections of the rising sun are expressed with great richness on the face of the kneeling boy; and the warm light, with a vigorous glow, on the other. These figures are transcripts from Nature, painted with that admirable truth which stamps a superior value on the works of this artist. They occupy the right side of the rocky beach, and a large dog, of the Newfoundland breed, stands behind the prawn-fisher in the centre of the foreground. A buoy and chain, left aground by the tide, are the only objects in the left corner. A thin flow of water is visible in some parts of the strand; and, in the middle ground, a pier extends into the sea. A boat-builder’s yard is behind it, with vessels lying dry — a horse and figures are seen near them — and a small house stands on the side of a high and sheltering hill, above. From the termination of this hill, the sea forms the extreme distance, and extends the whole length across the view. The sun has just risen a little above the horizon, and its brightness is reflected on the waves immediately behind the kneeling fisher-boy, with wonderful truth, brilliancy, and force of local colouring. The golden light is opposed to the deep blue of the ocean, with a lustre and vivacity to which no language can do justice.

“On the extreme sea, some dark sails are discernible against the bright light — on the same line the white sails of some fishing smacks, distinguished by remote distance, glitter in the sun, and help to soften the effect by spreading the light in these parts upon the water. The dark sails of a fishing vessel, which is much nearer the shore, rise above the horizon, take away from the formality of its line, give a picturesque effect to the angle formed by the boy, and contribute to unite the shadows of the sea and sky. The ruddy light is diffused upon the flickering clouds, upon the water, upon the distant hill, the sands, and the figures, with a variety and gradation of tint, a living glow and lustre, which place this admirable transcript of nature, as a standard of excellence, among the very finest productions of its class. As the spectator views this fascinating picture, the cool serenity of a clear summer morning, in all its aerial loveliness, sheds a sweet and tranquil influence on his mind.”

“The Kitten Deceived” — a little incident of rustic life (painted for Sir T. Heathcote) pourtraying a group of cottage children astonishing their favourite kitten by exhibiting to it its resemblance in a looking-glass; with two other works, (portraits,) in one of which three children are represented playing at cards, in a garden, were the other productions of the painter, exhibited at the Royal Academy this year. The specimens of portraiture were painted in pursuance of the purpose he had expressed, in his letter to Sir Thomas Heathcote, of increasing his means of subsistence by the practice of that branch of the Art. Fortunately, however, a few years more worked such a change for the better in his circumstances that he was, from that time, spared all further necessity of quitting his own chosen studies to paint portraits, except when previously disposed to do so from his own inclinations.

At the British Institution the painter’s new contributions were:- “The Young Cottager’s First Purchase,” (sold to Mr. Danby,) and “Preparing for a Voyage,” (sold to Mr. Ludlow.) Both works were treated with the same truth and simplicity as their predecessors in a similar style.

Of all these pictures, those which attracted, and deserved to attract, the most attention, were the two sea-pieces. They presented to the public eye, in their genuine novelty of subject and treatment, the most welcome of all sights, — the appearance of thorough originality; and were at once admired and understood. The Art which connected the figures with the landscape, making each of equal importance, combining each into wholeness and singleness of effect, and yet gifting each with a separate importance and charm, was immediately acknowledged. Individual criticism found in them few latent excellencies, that general observation had left undiscovered and unapproved. They were works that attained a superior quality in all intellectual efforts — whether in poetry, painting, or music — that of levelling themselves, in expression, to the general capacity, while, in conception, they rose beyond it.

In the reception of these pictures by the public, Mr. Collins found some reason to hope that he should, ere long, accomplish his own extrication from his embarrassments — a process which he felt must be necessarily gradual, but which he now began to anticipate might be as inevitably sure. Elated by these reflections — more sanguine than any that had occupied his mind for some time past — he permitted himself, this year, the relaxation of a journey to Paris, in company with Mr. Leslie, and Washington Allston, the celebrated American historical painter.

It is a peculiar quality in the mental composition of those enthusiastically devoted to an intellectual aim, that they make — often unconsciously — their very pleasures and relaxations minister to the continued study of their pursuit. This was remarkably the case in the instance of the subject of this biography. In sickness and in pleasure, as in health and occupation, he was incessantly garnering up some fresh collection of material for his Art. Thus, in his journey to Paris, not satisfied with the acquisitions which, in the mere conversation of the two great painters who accompanied him, he was sure to obtain, he contrived in the short space of a month, and in the midst of the gaieties and amusements of the French capital, to make several copies of the great works in the Louvre, and to gain matter for two pictures of French subjects, and French localities, which he painted on his return to England. Of this short expedition, no notices beyond a few travelling memoranda, have been found in his Journal for 1817; which, however, during a later period of the year, when he was again occupied in London by his regular studies, presents some remarks on Art worthy of insertion, which are expressed as follows:

“* * * The foundation of the connoisseur’s preference for the Dutch masters is exceedingly slender; it is the painter who in reality enjoys and admires their works; whose reputation (which induces the connoisseur to purchase them) is derived from the painter’s appreciation of their technical merits. Most of the Dutch pictures are composed of subjects gross, vulgar, and filthy; and where this is not the case with the subjects, the characters introduced are such as degrade the human species below the level of the brute creation. As a proof of the correctness of this statement, let any one put the employments of most of the figures into words, and see whether the description would be tolerated in any decent company. And further, is the selection of scenery in these works remarkable (or is it not the reverse) for any of those features which delight either in Nature or Poetry?

“If the low and beastly characters pourtrayed by the Dutch painters were introduced by way of contrast, or for some moral purpose, as in Hogarth’s works, there might be some excuse; but in their hands, even children have the faces of squalid old men and women: yet, notwithstanding these objections to them, they are most profoundly skilled in the great technical beauties and difficulties of the Art, and are accordingly highly valued by the artist. As these merits, however, can only be tested by the enlightened and initiated, persons who belong to neither class must buy the Dutch pictures, for purposes unconnected with a legitimate admiration of painting.

“* * * Daylight scenes are usually painted by inferior artists, with shadows resembling, because they are only painted at home, such as are never found but in rooms peculiarly lighted — these rooms being, moreover, seldom seen by any but painters. Hence, to those who are not accustomed to see groups of ploughmen, cattle, etc., etc., within doors, these pictures — though they know not how to express it — fail in producing the desired effect. For, although general spectators may not be so far acquainted with the minutiae of Nature as to be able to talk about them, the general characteristics are nevertheless strongly impressed on their feelings. This may be perceived, when pictures painted with a real knowledge of the peculiarities of daylight come before them; then, they instinctively declare their satisfaction by some such expression as, ‘There I can breathe!’

“How frequently do we find views of interiors, of stables and cottages, not really differing in atmosphere, from pictures of midday and sunrise effects in the open air, where the glimpses of cloud and landscape without, visible through doors and windows, appear so dexterously lowered, as to form a delicious artificial half tint to a head placed in the middle of a room. If painters are too indolent to court Nature
ad infinitum,
their works should be described somewhat thus:- ‘No. 1. Cottages and Cattle’
in a painting-room!
No. 2. ‘A Thunderstorm’ —
raised in the artist’s study!

“* * * The reason why most of the late attempts made in this country have done so little for the Art, seems to have arisen, not from a want of inclination to further the interests of the modern school, (except in one notorious instance) but from the difficulties which naturally attend an undertaking, which is now exposed to the danger of over-patronage on the one side, and of under-patronage — or as it has been said, the stimulus of the fear of starvation — on the other. It would be a wise plan to make
‘places’
on purpose for great talent in Art they are found a stimulus abounding with advantage in most other professions. Without the high rewards attendant upon brilliant individual success, what great lawyers and divines might we not have lost?

“Since the great demand for Art has been satiated with the works of the old masters, what encouragement has the modern painter now to hope for, beyond those honours which the Academy offers, unless he becomes a portrait painter? It is, by the way, a strong argument in favour of the excitement produced by hopes of great pecuniary profit, that in portrait painting, notwithstanding the disadvantage of the most unpicturesque dresses, the English school has attained to a decided superiority over that of any other country.

“* * * Difficulties overcome in any art or science, may give reputation of skill, on some occasions, where no really useful or agreeable object is attained. Amongst scientific men, artists and poets, who have little intercourse with the world at large, these technical triumphs are too much valued. What may be termed a legitimate and praiseworthy aim, is where success produces great general advantage or gratification. In my own branch of the Art, for instance, an undulating bank, made up of a great variety of grasses, wild flowers, docks, &c., &c., which, when represented with genuine taste and genius, is one of the most beautiful and attractive objects that can occupy the foreground of a picture, becomes in the hands of a man who can only paint it with considerable mechanical intricacy and skill, an ineffective, and sometimes even a disagreeable object.

“* * * A sketchy picture is easily done, because one is accustomed to overlook in it a hundred violations of truth, which are insisted upon in a finished picture. In making sketches, the very violation of the laws of Nature is a proof of ‘spirit,’ as it is called.”

Notwithstanding all his successes of the past year, it was with feelings of bitter despondency that the painter proceeded with his works for the Exhibition of 1818, for he had the mortification to perceive, as time advanced, that the demands made on him, moderate though they were, still exceeded the resources of his purse, and that a second crisis in his affairs, as painful and peremptory as that from which the kindness of Sir Thomas Heathcote had formerly extricated him, was fast approaching. The times had indeed slightly altered for the better; but it is a convincing proof of the continued poverty of the general patronage of that day, as compared with this, that the sea-piece “Sunrise,” universally as it had been praised by all classes of the public, by critics and connoisseurs alike, had remained upon the artist’s hands since the Exhibition of 1817, and was not sold till the March of the following year. An extract from Mr. Collins’s Journal will convey some idea of the state of his mind under this fresh check on his most darling hopes; this unexpected defeat of the hard economies and applauded pictorial efforts of a whole year: