Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2117 page)

* * * In a conversation with Sir William Knighton, I heard from him the following anecdotes of Lord Byron. He attended his lordship, medically, for nine months, while he was writing the ‘Corsair,’ and other poems. During all his visits, he never heard him use an offensive word, either on religion or on any other subject. Lord Byron told him (Sir William Knighton,) that he once drank seventy pints of brandy, with Douglas Kinnaird, in as many days, to enable him to undergo the fatigue of writing. When the separation took place between Lord Byron and his wife, he allowed Sir William (who told him everybody was talking against him as regarded the subject, and that he wished for something to say in his defence) to state, that whatever offence he gave Lady Byron was in the way of omission rather than commission, that he never allowed himself to scold her, and only once showed temper in her presence, when he threw his watch into the fire.” * * *

After a visit in September to Brighton — which was always associated, through all changes of external appearance, with his dearest childish recollections, as the place where he had first seen and attempted to draw coast scenery — the painter returned to his permanent labours over his next year’s pictures, in his new painting-room. Here he continued to work — with many social meetings with the illustrious men of the day, and many a pleasant evening’s debate on Art with Wilkie, to diversify the daily regularity of his studies; but with little of outward incident, or change of life, until the opening of the Exhibition of 1831, to which he sent three pictures: “The Venturesome Robin;” “Shrimpers, — evening;” and “The Morning Bath.” Two other works by him appeared also at the British Institution this year, and were entitled, “The Old Boatbuilder,” and “A Nutting Party.”

A woody lane, bounded by a cottage on each side, and giving others to view in the distance, forms the scene of action in “The Venturesome Robin.” On one side, near a high old stone well, is a young girl in a kneeling position, with two beautiful children clasped in her arms. On the other are two boys, the younger of whom holds a salt-box, from which his companion is extracting a pinch of salt, to be placed at the right moment, (in accordance with a well-known but rather superstitious method of bird-catching,) on the tail of a robin, who stands irresolute in the middle of the foreground, hard by the plate of crumbs which has tempted his venturesome approach. The quaint simplicity of this incident is admirably brought out in the action and position of the different figures; the quiet, smiling attention of the girl and the children being admirably contrasted by the intense slyness in the countenances, and the breathless anxiety in the attitudes of the two boys with the salt-box; who evidently believe devoutly in the efficacy of their ornithological receipt. The same minute and dramatic attention to Nature, apparent in the figures, is discernible in the landscape, which is so arranged as to present no artificial limits to the eye — the shadows of palings which are not seen in the picture, falling on the foreground; and the distant trees, leading out of the composition, past the sides of the old well. It was in every respect a thoroughly successful work; was painted for Mr. J. P. Ord, and was well engraved, in the line manner, in “The Amulet “ for 1834. The figures in “The Shrimpers,” (painted for Mr. Vernon,) are large in size and highly finished, they are grouped under a large cliff, arranging their fishing nets. A magnificent sunset sky, full of grand, aerial composition, and lustrous colouring, forms the most remarkable landscape object in this picture. “The Morning Bath,” united the painter’s domestic and sea-coast subjects. The waves fill the left-hand corner of the picture, to the foreground. In the shallow water stands a bathing-woman, restoring a baby whom she has just “dipped” to a nurse, on the beach at the right hand, who holds a warm blanket ready to receive her dripping little charge. Near her another attendant is dressing an elder child, who is shivering to the very fingers’ ends. The clear, sunshiny sky, the buoyant, transparent waves, the characteristic action and varied expression in the figures, make this a most attractive and inspiriting picture. It was purchased by Mr. Henry M’Connell, of Manchester; and was engraved in “The Literary Souvenir.” A beautiful water-colour drawing from the work exists by the artist’s hand, and was bought at the sale of his works, after his death, by Mr. Russell Gurney.

Of the pictures at the British Institution, the largest was “The Nutting Party,” painted for the Rev. R. A. Thorpe; a rustic, inland scene, with a fine group of children in the foreground. The second, “The Old Boatbuilder,” was painted for General Phipps, and represented an old fisherman making a model of a boat for a pretty little child, who watches his progress, leaning on his knees. It was a small picture, painted with great care and delicacy, and was one of the artist’s works exhibited at the British Institution after his death. It may be seen engraved in “The Amulet” for 1835.

Those momentous public occurrences, the outbreak of the cholera, and the Reform Bill agitation, of which England was the scene during this year, produced that long and serious depression in the patronage and appreciation of Art which social and political convulsions must necessarily exercise on the intellectual luxuries of the age. The noble and the wealthy, finding their lives endangered by a mysterious pestilence, and believing that their possessions were threatened by a popular revolution, which was to sink the rights of station and property in a general deluge of republican equality, had little time, while engrossed in watching the perilous events of the day, to attend to the remoter importance of the progress of national Art. As in other callings and societies, there were not wanting many to predict, from the aspect of the times, the downfall of all honourable and useful pursuits, the end of the aristocracy, and even the end of the world, so in painting there were found men of dismal mind, who foreboded the unhallowed arrival of a new series of “dark ages” for the perdition of the Arts. At such a time, to attempt any new experiments or superior achievements in painting would have appeared to those of this opinion as hopeless a waste of labour and anxiety as could well be undertaken. Yet more sanguine than some of his brethren, it was in this year that Mr. Collins began to put into execution a project which he had long entertained, of painting a large picture of some national English sport, in which, casting aside his wonted landscape attractions, he should depend entirely on the composition and character of his figures for success. The subject he fixed on was “Skittle-playing.” Out of the few friends that heard of his design, many discouraged it. The subject, they thought, had been too often treated by the great Dutch masters, to be susceptible of originality; and to deprive himself especially at such a time of comparative indifference towards the Art of the “witchery” of his airy skies and sea-coast, or inland prospects, was, they urged, to risk failure with the public, from the dangerous novelty of the attempt. Wilkie, however, who best knew his friend’s capacities, was delighted with his project, and warmly urged him to realize it without delay. At that time, the old Bayswater house of entertainment, called “The Wales Tea-gardens,” stood unenvironed by the smart rustic villas, whose Gothic towers, of the height of a large sentry-box, and whose Arcadian gardens, of the size of a farm-house cabbage-bed, now spread their suburban fascinations to the citizen’s view. Past one side of it flowed the stream, or rather large ditch of muddy water, (now built over,) from which Bayswater is supposed to have derived its name. To the more enterprising and inquisitive of the students of Art this place was not unknown. It presented good views of old wooden outhouses, nicely broken bits of bank on each side of the ditch, a passably rustic wooden bridge over it, prettily shaped trees around it, and now and then —
rara avis in terra
— a real countryman, caught from Uxbridge, or Ealing, and but slightly tainted with “London life.” One great characteristic however of this house of call for artists as well as beer-drinkers, was its large skittle-ground; and here Mr. Collins now attended, sketch-book in hand, to gather materials for his picture. The greatest skittle-player amongst them took not more interest in “a good throw,” than he. He learnt the rules of the game and the art of the play. He made studies, unobserved, of the individual character, the momentary position, and the accidental arrangement of figures in the time that would have been occupied by some fastidious sketchers in cutting their pencils and inspecting the surface of their paper. He bought skittles, and set them up in his garden. He risked turning his gardener, — a great skittle-player, and the model for one of his figures, — into a permanent Colossus of Rhodes, by keeping him striding in the action of bowling with all his might, as long as his legs would uphold him. In short, he persevered in a course of preparatory study of such a description as this, with a determination that would have astonished those gentlemen of the “poetical brush” who paint “at home at ease:” and the result was, the production of a picture which, in the opinion of Wilkie who watched it through every part of its progress would go down to posterity as one of the standard works of the English school. It will be fully described at the period of its exhibition, the year 1832.

Such was Mr. Collins’s industry in the practice of a branch of painting already familiar to him; and such will it be found in the narrative that is yet to come of his studies in the new field of Art presented to his contemplation, by the people and the scenery of a distant land.

END OF VOL. I.

MEMOIRS

OF

THE LIFE OF

WILLIAM COLLINS, ESQ., R.A.

WITH SELECTIONS FROM

HIS JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE.

BY HIS SON,

W. WILKIE COLLINS.

VOLUME II.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.

CHAPTER I.

1831-1833.

Letters to Mrs. W. Collins and the Rev. R. A. Thorpe — Remarks — Exhibition of 1832 — ”The Skittle-players” — Country Visits — Letters to Mrs. W. Collins — Labours in the Art — Letter from Sir David Wilkie — Exhibition of 1833 — Visit to the late Sir Thomas Baring, Bart. — Letters to Mrs. W. Collins — Illness of Mr. Francis Collins — His Death — Sketch of his Character — Death of the Painter’s Mother — Remarks.

SOME notices of Mr. Collins’s professional employments, and of the social and political events of the day referred to at the close of the preceding volume, will be found in the two following letters from his pen:

“To MRS. WILLIAM COLLINS.

“Bayswater, Oct. 17th, 1831.

“Your letter relieved our anxiety about your delayed journey, and I trust by this time, the weather having been favourable for Brighton rides and walks, you may, by the blessing of God, have found some benefit to your health. We have been dull enough without you. I know not what to say about going to bring you home; however, if you think it necessary, I will endeavour to do so. Write to me upon the subject again, in a day or two, and especially upon the state of your health. * * * Mr. Dodsworth continues his sermons upon the fearful character of the present times. What does our friend Dr. Thompson think of the signs afforded by recent events? You will have seen by the papers, that the French have determined to get rid of the hereditary peerage, by a majority of 384 to 86. The mob is quiet enough here; although the illness of the King and the report of a prorogation of Parliament till Christmas create much anxiety among the friends of the Reform Bill. * * *

“Affectionately yours,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

“To THE REV. R. A. THORPE.

“Bayswater, Nov. 26th, 1831.

“My dear Sir, — I cannot plead guilty to the charge of neglect in not having answered your former letter, for it was unfortunately without an address. As I am, however, a gainer by this omission, by receiving two letters from you instead of one, I cannot but rejoice, — especially as it affords me the opportunity of assuring you that, not being last year a member of the Academy Council, I had no share in the discredit brought upon us, as a body, by the accidental omission of your name at the dinner, which Etty, Landseer, and myself most sincerely deplored, and which we trust cannot occur again.

“Upon the receipt of your first letter, I put aside the picture I had begun for you, until I should have the pleasure of seeing you. A slight sketch of it I now send; the title I should give it is, ‘ The Stray Kitten.’

“Of the two scourges now afflicting us,* I know not which is the worst; but I
do
know that we have fallen into the hands of God in both cases, and not before we deserved it; but, now that we are brought publicly to acknowledge that our trials are of his ordering,** we may safely indulge in the hope that we may be preserved through all troubles. With respect to the pestilence, whatever our men of science — I am almost tempted to say, falsely so named — may choose to
call
it, we are all certainly much deceived upon the subject; but, although whatever may be the contingencies, we cannot but suffer much, yet great benefit must arise to all parties, from the course adopted in the holes and corners of our closely-packed and over-grown cities.