Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2114 page)

“And now, my dear Harriet, casting all my care upon Him who only and alone can help us and bless us,

“I am, your affectionate husband,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

Later in the autumn, the painter, on his return to England, again visited Mr. Higgins, of Turvey Abbey, and extended his short country tour to Leamington. From the latter place he wrote as follows:

“To MRS. WILLIAM COLLINS.

“Leamington, Oct. 2nd, 1828.

* * * “I fear you had much difficulty in making out the letter I sent you from Turvey; indeed it so happens that the epistles I send you are generally, from the bustle in which I make my excursions and the desire I have to combine sketching with sight-seeing, fully deserving of the appellation of scrawls.

“I left Mr. Higgins on Monday, and arrived at this place on the same evening. During my stay at Turvey I saw many pretty things, and was much struck by Castle Ashby, a seat of the Marquis of Northampton, one of the most perfect dwellings, with endless drives through magnificent woods, — one, in particular, a green lane, or rather wide road, thirteen miles in extent, with the finest wood scenery I ever saw. Yet with all this beauty and splendour, the present owner deserts it for foreign fopperies! How utterly impossible it is to say in what happiness consists; in
things,
I am sure it does not. Ought we not, then, to cultivate inward peace, or rather those means by which it may be obtained from Him who alone can give it, and who, praised be his holy name, has promised it, — upon certain conditions, indeed; but his burden is light, and his yoke is easy.

“I cannot tell you, when I am alone, how I long for home. Why should we thus be parted I say continually, and my only consolation is that it is not for pleasure alone, (although, thank God, I relish the beauties of his creation more than ever,) but for the ‘crumbs’ I must take to my ‘nest.’ And what a ‘nest’ it is, after all! May we ever be grateful for so high a gift! I could go on for an hour describing our blessings; but your heart is not insensible to the merits of Providence, and when I return, we will thank our heavenly Father together.

“As the weather is broken, and the air too cold for sitting out to draw, I shall satisfy myself with
seeing
the beauties of this exquisite place, and I trust return to London by to-morrow’s coach. Of this matter, however, I will write again.

“Affectionately yours,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

The year 1828, closed with unusual gloom and melancholy for the painter. Late in the autumn, he suffered from a severe attack of illness; and early in the winter, occurred the death of his generous patron and sincere friend, the Earl of Liverpool.

But, notwithstanding these sources of trouble and regret, the beginning of the next year found my father more busily engaged than ever in the gradual completion of his new pictures, which were five in number at the Exhibition of 1829. They were entitled, “Morning after a Storm,” (the large sea-piece, commissioned by Sir R. Peel, on the completion of his “Frost Scene:”) “Summer Moonlight,” (painted for the Rev. R. A. Thorpe;) “Prawn Fishing,” (painted for Sir F. Freeling;) “A Scene in a Kentish Hop-garden,” (sold to the Duke of Norfolk;) and “Fisher Children,” (painted for the Hon. G. A. Ellis, the centre figure being a portrait of his son.) The painter also exhibited at the British Institution this year; sending there a work executed for Mr. Wells, entitled “A Scene on the Coast of Kent.”

“Morning after a Storm,” was the largest of my father’s works of the year. The incident of the picture is thus embodied:- A storm is supposed to have raged during the night, and is indicated by the wild broken clouds, rolling away before the morning sun, and by the vexed waters of the ocean, which are still in process of subsiding from their recent agitation. On a cliff, to the left hand of the scene, is seated a fisherman’s wife, with a baby at her bosom, and another little child clinging to her. Her face, shaded by her hand, is turned towards the sea, on whose brilliant expanse her eyes are anxiously fixed, watching for the first sight of the fishing-boat, in which her husband has risked the dangers of the tempestuous night. A dog, still and watchful as herself, stands by her side; while near her a man with a telescope, (a repetition, by desire, of the figure in the “Fishermen on the Look-Out,”) scans thoughtfully and deliberately the ocean view. The profound and simple sentiment of this picture; the homely natural pathos in the attitude and expression of the young wife, still painfully doubtful of her husband’s safety; the powerful and beautiful contrast between the brilliant action of the elements, the fast-parting clouds, the warm conquering sunlight, the brightly tossing ocean, and the expressive stillness of anxiety and fear impressed upon the very positions of the living agents of the scene, are qualities, as little to be interpreted by any description, however minute, as the remoter technical excellences of singleness of treatment and brilliancy of colouring apparent to the critic in the painting of the work. In relation, also, to Mr. Collins’ second picture, “Summer Moonlight,” the same poverty of the resources of description cannot be less severely felt. The two boys, pushing a little fellow in a tub across one of the pools left by the sea on the beach, and the expanse of wet sand leading smoothly out to the distant ocean, are parts of the composition which it might be comparatively easy to render here; but the dreamy, mysterious softness of the atmosphere, neither twilight nor moonlight, but partaking of both, the poetic stillness of the light, as it rests gently over the fishing-boats on the distant waters, the luxurious repose of the whole scene of smooth shore beneath, and half-radiant clouds above, must be beheld on the canvas itself to be properly divined, and cannot be meddled with by the tedious pen. The picture of “Prawn Fishers” added one more brilliant example to the list of the painter’s most attractive sea-pieces. It was engraved in the “Literary Souvenir” for 1835, and has continued from the time of its production to be a most popular work. In the “Scene in a Kentish Hop-garden,” the background is aptly filled by rows of tall picturesque hop-poles, while the foreground is occupied by a busy group of cottagers. The curious Kentish “hop-cradle,” formed of clumsy sticks covered with a red cloak, and used by the women to hold their children when they are at work, is introduced with capital effect into the foreground of the charming English country scene which this picture pourtrays. “Fisher Children,” a small delicate work, was engraved in the “Literary Souvenir.” The portrait of the son of Mr. Agar Ellis, (for whom the picture was painted,) was introduced into the composition with the artist’s usual felicity; the child being represented, dressed in homely garments, standing with a pan in his hand to receive some fish, which a boy and a girl are engaged in washing at each side of him. A remarkable tenderness in colour and delicacy in execution distinguished this picture.

In presenting the subjoined letters, exchanged during the summer of this year between Mr. Collins and Mr. Bernard Barton, the poet, the explanation of the circumstances connected with them cannot be better prefaced than by the insertion of a Sonnet, written by the latter gentleman, expressive of that admiration for the painter’s works, from which the following correspondence first dated its commencement:

SONNET

TO WILLIAM COLLINS, R.A.

PAINTER! each British bard who loves the sea,
With all the scenery of its winding shore,
In sunshine’s calm, or tempest’s wild uproar,
Should hymn a song of grateful praise to thee!
For there thy genius seems at home to be,
And on thy living canvas we explore
Beauties which longer studied please us more,
Bulwarks which found us, and that leave us,
free!
While, by the dwellers on our sea girt Isle,
Its billowy borders are with pride beheld,
So long shall bloom the wreath thon hast compell’d
Fame to entwine thee; and, with partial smile,
Shall England’s voice in exultation style
COLLINS his native country’s Vandervelde!

BERNARD BARTON.

Sentiments of approval as cordial as these, and excited, it should be observed in the case of Mr. Bernard Barton, by the only acquaintance with the painter’s works that his country residence had permitted him — general report, and the notices of the press; formed great part of the first letter that he wrote to Mr. Collins. The remainder contained an expression of his anxiety to possess some small memorial of the painter’s skill, which might be valueless to the giver, but which should not only be a treasured possession to the receiver, but a future inspiration to his muse. Feeling that the praise of a poet was not of ordinary importance, and that the kindred pursuit of a poet rendered superfluous the apologies with which his correspondent had closed his request, Mr. Collins answered his application by the offering mentioned in the following letter:

“To BERNARD BARTON, ESQ.

“Hampstead Green, July 7th, 1829.

“My dear Sir — I have to offer you my most sincere thanks for the flattering view you have been pleased to take of my reputation as a painter; and I have only to hope that should you ever see any of those works by which, such as it is, it has been obtained, you will not feel obliged to change your present favourable opinions.

“I have delayed answering your kind letter, until I could get from the printer an impression of a plate that is not yet published; and I regret much that this, and those that accompany it, are all I can have the pleasure of presenting to you — for I have no picture by me, that would not provoke, even from your kind feeling,
‘a wreath’
which it would not please
you
‘to weave’ — particularly as you propose ‘a
fitting
one’ — for me to wear. In truth, all those which I do paint, are demanded to supply a table, where so many mouths are daily open, that even
‘the crumbs’
you ask for, by a sort of enchantment, immediately disappear.*

* The above sentence, refers to a passage in Mr. Bernard Barton’s letter, where he had humorously compared his application to the painter, to the plea of the poor beggar in the parable, for “the crumbs from the rich man’s table.”

“Should any circumstance arise to induce you to visit this neighbourhood, believe me it would afford me very great pleasure to introduce you to our scenery; which, notwithstanding its proximity to the ‘great Babel’ is acknowledged to have many and peculiar beauties, and where you would at least find a hearty welcome.

“Trusting that an acquaintance begun so oddly, may not finish abruptly,

“I am, my dear Sir,

“Your obliged and faithful servant,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

The reply of Mr. Bernard Barton to the above letter, expresses with so much frankness and clearness his motives for making his request to Mr. Collins, and contains so many just observations on the characteristics of men of intellect, as to render its publication as much a matter of interest to the reader, as of justice to the writer. It runs as follows:

“To WILLIAM COLLINS, ESQ., R.A.

“Woodbridge, Suffolk, 7th Month, 9th, 1829.

“My dear Friend — When I sent the letter and sonnet, which thy favour of the 7th instant has acknowledged, in a manner equally honourable to thy courtesy and kindness, I trusted for its indulgent reception to that liberal feeling which I believe to be the invariable accompaniment of true genius, in either a painter or poet. I never had been either deceived or disappointed in my reliance on this principle; for I never risked such an intrusion, without first having good grounds for believing that the party addressed would understand and appreciate my motives and feelings. There is a sort of
esprit de corps,
an union as mysterious almost as that of free-masonry, existing among the votaries of the sister Arts of painting and poetry, which is felt and understood in a moment, where the attachment of both to their favourite pursuit is genuine and generous. Had I seen an account, in the papers, of a goldsmith, silversmith, or jeweller, who had invented a new and elegant sort of snuff-box — though I am both a snuff-taker and a snuff-box fancier — I should no more have dreamt of winning a specimen of the man’s craft, by addressing a Sonnet to him, than of obtaining the Chancellor’s Seals, by an Ode to His Majesty. Archimedes is said to have declared he could move the universe, give him but whereon to rest his lever. The poet can do more than the mathematician, where
mind
is to be worked on; but he can only appeal to minds, native to the same element in which he lives and breathes. By
them,
he need not fear being repulsed with coldness or scorn; because their own love of all that is beautiful in Nature will lead them instinctively to sympathize with, and enter into, his thoughts and feelings, and to give him credit for better motives than those of cold, calculating, sordid selfishness.