Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2100 page)

“I have been in the habit, for the last fourteen years successively, of sending some specimens of my humble performance to your annual Exhibition, and I know, from various members of the Academy, that my pictures have been willingly received. Mr. — , Mr. — , Mr. — , Mr. — , etc., have all of them, in the strongest terms, been pleased to express to me their approbation, nay, even their praise, and these are not men to natter. Perhaps, however, a still greater proof, (or, what at least ought to be so considered,) of the favourable reception which my pictures have obtained, is, that they have on various occasions been placed in the ‘Great Room,’ — yes, in the very best situations in that room!

“This year I sent up two small pictures, (they are little, very little ones,) in the hope that one of them, at least, might get a moderately good place. As I did not think them inferior to my former attempts, (such is my own opinion,) there seemed nothing unreasonable in my indulging an expectation at once so pleasing to myself and so gratifying to my friends.

“In consequence of a severe illness, I have been hitherto disappointed in my annual visit to Somerset-house; but what think you, gentlemen, must be my disappointment, at being informed by my friends that my pictures are
‘shaved down to the ground,’
in the inner room, and consequently seen to the greatest possible disadvantage. To judge indeed from their report, a much worse situation, I conceive, could not easily have been assigned to them.

“Now, Gentlemen, I appeal to yourselves, is this handsome? Is this considerate? Is this just? I will answer for you; such a proceeding is no less unbecoming to yourselves, than it is injurious to the Art — an Art, for the advancement of which no one is more zealous, more anxious, than myself.

“How often have the very Academicians whom I have named declared to me, that the works of amateurs, of
Gentlemen Artists,
were most thankfully received by the Academy. ‘Such little flowers, interspersed here and there,’ have they said, ‘make our Exhibition
smell less of the shop
— they prove to us, too, that the love of Art is disseminating through the country — they do more, they contribute themselves, very essentially, to that most desirable end: besides, they bring
grist to the mill,
by attracting, as they never fail to do, a host of visitors, whose contributions add to the general fund; that fund (observed they) which is our only support, and without which we should be no Academy at all.’*

* I cannot avoid hinting my suspicions, in this place, that the feelings of the Academy towards their amateur brethren, (although undoubtedly and properly those of friendship and respect) are coloured, here, a little too highly, by the fervid fancy of the author of the memorial.

“To what cause I may attribute the humiliation in my present case, I am at a loss to conceive. An enemy among you I cannot possibly have, I believe: on the contrary, I know full well that I may count many friends in the society to which you belong; and though I say it myself, (indeed it hurts me extremely to be thus compelled to recount favours conferred,) I feel that I have some claim to its acknowledgment and regard.

“Ask, I pray you, Mr. — -, whether he has not received payments from me for four different pictures — commissions — the produce of his masterly pencil? Mr. — -, can tell you who it was that, only last year, gave him the commission for his unrivalled picture of; — and who, he can inform you, in addition thereto, hath been mainly instrumental in obtaining this very year for that artist, no less than for Mr. — -, commissions for their respective pictures, (painted for my son-in-law) now hanging on your walls. Mr. — -, if I mistake not, will not be found backward in making you acquainted, if required, with the terms on which, some years ago, I gave him a commission, at a time when, as I was informed, his finances were low — his spirits depressed, and family afflictions pressed heavily on his mind. Mr. — -, too, has shared of my purse.*

* The gentlemen thus gracefully and opportunely twitted with their obligations to the memorialist were all Royal Academicians of “name and note.” Of their number not one now remains to be the recipient of future remonstrances, and the scapegoat of artistic indignation that is yet to come.

“But I forbear, ashamed as I am at being driven to confessions like these!

“The inference which I wish to be drawn from all this, cannot be mistaken; and I leave you, Gentlemen, to decide whether the part you have acted in regard to me, can be considered
such as I have deserved
— in fine, whether that part is creditable either to yourselves, or advantageous to the Arts?

“For supposition’s sake, let us for a moment contemplate your Exhibition (be the walls covered as they may) without the appearance of one single specimen from the pencils of Sir — , (that giant of an amateur;) of Sir — ; of Mr. — ; of Mr. — ; of Mr. — ;* and last of all, though perhaps not least, (for so I have been most kindly and encouragingly assured by good and candid judges, among whom was your late worthy President himself,) your humble servant.

* Here occur the names of gentlemen of deserved reputation as amateur artists.

“Would no sentiment of regret no feeling of disappointment, in such a case, allow me, with all due deference, to ask, pervade the bosoms of the more liberal — the high-minded Academicians, (of such there are to my knowledge many to be found) at a sight so alarming, at the appearance of such an hiatus in the show?

“Fully sensible how little there is of real value in my feeble attempts, I have never wished or even thought that they should interfere with the productions of Professors, to whom I am well aware a good place is everything. My claims have ever been of the moderate kind. (Mr. — -, and Mr. — -, will bear testimony, I am sure, to the truth of what I now say,) nor have I ever, even when an acquaintance has been of your number, sought by undue means an interference in my behalf, being firmly persuaded that integrity, that impartiality, that a strict attention to the fair and legitimate demands of real merit ought to be in the breast of the Committee the sole basis whereon its decisions should be formed. Such, I have no doubt, was the wise and ever-to-be-revered intention of the august founder of the Royal Academy.

“But I hasten to conclude, requesting your excuses for this long, and, doubtless to you all, most tiresome tirade.

“I have the honour to be, Gentlemen,

“Your very obedient servant,

“* * *”

Such is this ingenious protest. It is presented to the reader, (although he might well doubt it, from the perusal of some of its paragraphs,)
exactly
as it is written, down to the very italics. Long as it assuredly is, I cannot imagine that its introduction will be considered as wearisome, or that it will be read with any other feelings than those of the amusement which it is so admirably adapted to excite. Little, indeed, do the gay visitors to the Academy Exhibition imagine what an atmosphere of disappointment and jealousy, of petty malice and fruitless wrath, invisibly encircles no inconsiderable number of the failures they ridicule, and even of the successes they applaud.

The office of keeper of the valuable Gallery of pictures at Dulwich having become vacant in this year, Mr. Collins’ brother, Francis, started as one of the candidates for the situation. With the deep affection for his brother and the ardent enthusiasm for his brother’s interests, which ever characterized him, the painter exerted his utmost influence in all directions to ensure the election of Mr. Francis Collins: whose fitness for the honourable and responsible situation that .he desired to fill, involving as it did the whole care and cleaning of one of the most valuable collections of pictures in England, will be found well noticed in the following extract from Sir Francis Chantrey’s testimonial in his favour:

“Through my act, Mr. Collins,” (Francis,) “was employed two years ago to clean a valuable collection of pictures, amounting to nearly an hundred; and it was a trust for which I was responsible. I knew him to be perfectly competent; for he had been educated to this business under his father, himself a picture cleaner much esteemed by artists; and I also knew that he was living at the elbow of his brother, the Royal Academician, and was acquainted with the whole process of a picture, even from the bare canvass. On the whole, I know of no one more competent for the preservation of a collection like yours, and I know no one in whose abilities I would more readily confide. He is an unpresuming, good-tempered, and sensible man, with a love and knowledge of Art, and possessed of much curious information respecting its productions.”

In spite, however, of this and many other valuable recommendations, Mr. Francis Collins was not so fortunate as to gain the keepership of the Dulwich Gallery, — Mr. Denning being the candidate ultimately elected to that office.

Some description of a second tour to Devonshire, undertaken by the painter in the autumn of this year, will be found in the following letter to his mother:

“To MRS. COLLINS.

“Bideford, Oct. 7th, 1821.

“My dear Mother, — My last letter contained, if I recollect with accuracy, an account of your dutiful son, up to his visit to Sharpham. We left that place for Ashburton, taking in our way the parsonage of Mr. Frewde, who, I am truly sorry to say, since I last visited this county has lost the mother of a numerous family. I am sure you must have heard me speak of a most elegant and amiable lady, his wife.

“We slept at Ashburton two nights; and during our stay there visited some of the finest, I think I may say all the finest scenes this beautiful part of Devonshire can show; all the property of my very excellent friend, Mr. Bastard. From thence we returned to Kitley, which I left the following day for Plymouth and Birham, Sir W. Elford’s seat. I then paid a visit to the Leaches, at Spitchwick, where I made sketches of the scenes which Mr. Bastard and myself had pronounced picturesque; viz., fit for pictures. From Spitchwick I returned to Kitley, where I spent nearly a week; after which 1 made the necessary preparations for my northern tour. I have commenced it under the most melancholy circumstances. Upon our entrance into Torrington, we heard the most afflicting account of the loss of upwards of
forty fishermen,
who have perished in the gale of Thursday evening last, (all inhabitants of Clovelly and its neighbourhood.) With feelings of the deepest melancholy shall I to-morrow set out, please God, for this spot, the scene of so much affliction. The body of one of the sufferers has been found this morning, (a native of this place,) whose son perished at Clovelly on the same night. I shall not send this letter to the post-office until after I reach Clovelly, only eleven miles distant from this; when I trust I shall be enabled to give you some account of my future plans.”

“Clovelly, Monday evening. — The above account is but too true, and the misery the accident has caused here can never be forgotten. I have this day seen some of the remains of the boats, torn to pieces in a way one would hardly have supposed possible. Going down the village, I saw a crowd assembled before a door; they were singing a psalm over the body of one of their comrades. Not above one half of the corpses have been found. I refrain from any further account of this most awful affair, as I am satisfied it would be too much for you.

“Clovelly certainly presents the finest scenery I ever beheld; but, as the days are now so short and cold, I must use despatch, particularly as I have yet many other places to visit. * * * It is possible you may receive a basket of stones, and old boughs, and roots of trees from Mr. Bastard, for me to paint from. I mention this, that you may not think you have been hoaxed when you open the parcel.

“Your affectionate son,

“WILLIAM COLLINS”

With the exception of the tour to Devonshire thus recorded, nothing occurred in this year to vary the easy regularity of the painter’s life, — a life which, looked on under its brighter influences, (and to such Mr. Collins had now attained,) is perhaps the most delightful that the varieties of human existence can present. It is refreshing after having enumerated, some pages back, the petty tribulations and small worldly crosses attaching even to the most successful study of Art, to turn to the contemplation of the abstract and intellectual charms, as well as of the real, practical advantages of this noble pursuit. Viewed in his relation to the other branches of Art, — to literature and music alone — the painter enjoys many higher privileges, and suffers fewer anxieties, than either the poet or the composer. He is enabled, with comparatively little delay, to view his composition, at its earliest stages, displayed before him at once, in all its bearings, as one coherent though yet uncompleted whole. When dismissed as finished, it passes fresh from the care of his hand and the contact of his mind to a position where its merits can be easily judged, without taxing the time or risking the impatience of the public. It is then confided to the possession of but
one
— the individual who prizes it the most — not to be flung aside by the superficial, like a book, or to be marred by the ignorant, like a melody, but to be viewed by the most careless and uncultivated as a relic which they dare not molest, and as a treasure which cannot become common by direct propagation. Then, turning from the work to the workman, we find Nature presenting herself to his attention at every turn, self-moulded to all his purposes. His library is exposed freely before him, under the bright sky and on the open ground. His college is not pent within walls and streets, but spreads, ever boundless and ever varying, wherever wood and valley are stretched, or cliff and mountain reared. Poverty has a beauty in its rags, and ruin an eloquence in its degradation for
him. His
hand holds back from the beloved form that oblivion of the tomb which memory and description are feeble alike to avert. He stands like the patriarch, “between the dead and the living,” to recall the one and to propagate the other, — at once the interpreter of animating Nature, and the antagonist of annihilating death.