Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2125 page)

“1836, September 19th — Left London for Dover, with my wife and children, intending to travel into Italy, and to return in about a twelvemonth. We were accompanied by Mr. Henry Rice and his daughter, who were to go with us to Paris. 20th — Took our leave of dear England in a steam-boat, bound for Boulogne; where we arrived in about three hours — remained there the following day; and on the 22nd, departed in the ‘diligence’ for Paris; sleeping that night at Amiens, and arriving on the evening of the following day, the 24th. Remained at Paris until October 3rd, when we left Paris for Auxerre, on our way to Chalons-sur-Saone. During our stay in the French capital, the weather was generally bad. Saw the Louvre and the usual shows — thought the place had lost much of its peculiar character since I first saw it in 1816 — the Boulevards much injured, by the loss of many of the large trees, which gave so picturesque, and to an English eye, so novel an appearance to that part of the town.”

Here the above introductory passage in the painter’s Diary abruptly closes — the hurried character of his journey southward from Paris, leaving him little time to sketch, and none to journalize. By the time he arrived at Auxerre, the independent proceedings of the conductor of the diligence — who moved his passengers from a carriage to a cart, at the latter portion of the journey, and half starved them all through it, with genuinely French surliness, — so little inclined him to the public conveyances of this part of the country, that he posted the rest of the way to Chalons. Thence he proceeded by steam-boat to Lyons, and on to Aries; where the noble amphitheatre and the peculiar beauty of the female peasantry, provided good material for the sketch-book, and would have tempted him to delay on the journey, but for his extreme anxiety to enter Italy as speedily as possible, at all sacrifices. Accordingly he left Aries by a canal-boat, intending to meet the Marseilles diligence at a particular point, across the country, to the south-east. By this route he passed across a plain, intersected throughout by the mouths of the Rhone, wearing the appearance of a vast swamp, and little travelled over by any foreigners whatever. Here he was obliged to take refuge for the night, at a most extraordinary place, called Martigue — built upon piles, surrounded by water like a miniature Venice, inhabited by a race of people who seemed half-smugglers and half-fishermen, and furnished with one small inn, the master of which, never having seen an Englishman before, sat down to dinner with his customers, and kept his cap on with edifying independence. Other travelling adventures, of an equally amusing nature, occurred before the painter and his family finally succeeded in meeting the long looked-for diligence, and in reaching Marseilles. The dirtiness of the town and harbour, and the general dulness of this place — notwithstanding the attraction of the blue Mediterranean — soon induced Mr. Collins to hasten his journey onwards. The grand mountain passes leading to Toulon, and the city itself, were next travelled through; and thence, passing in the moonlight the lovely scenery near Luc, he proceeded to the pretty little coast town of Cannes, which profitably employed his sketch-book, and proved a pleasant resting-place for his travelling companions, during three days. The next few stages of his journey — displaying the snow-covered Alps on one side, and the bright Mediterranean, with orange gardens and vineyards on its shores, on the other — eloquently informed him that he had already gained the great starting- point of his journey, and had entered, as it were, the gates of Italy on arriving at Nice.

At this important part of his tour, however, where he had thought but to make a passing sojourn, he suffered great disappointment, and incurred unexpected delay, by the news that the cholera had broken out in Italy, and that further progress was for the present impracticable. Nice was filled with English travellers, stopped on their journey by this disastrous intelligence; long and severe quarantine regulations were reported as being established to protect the frontier towns; and, finding that there was no other course to follow, but to remain where he was and to watch the progress of events, Mr. Collins hired lodgings near the seaward quarter of the town, and prepared at once to occupy himself professionally, in a place where, though he had not the privilege of studying Italian Art, he had at least the advantage of sketching from Italian Nature.

One of his first letters to England from Nice, was to Sir David Wilkie. It was as follows:

“To SIR DAVID WILKIE, R.A.

“Nice, November 4th, 1836.

Dear Wilkie, — You will have heard from our friend Rice of our arrival at and departure from Paris, since which time we have been, by degrees, working our way to this place. We found our journey more fatiguing and less interesting than we expected. With the exception of some of the towns, in France everything is barren and gloomy. Even in the south of France, until near Toulon, I saw little worth recollecting. With Marseilles, where I expected much, I was greatly disappointed. In this place, however, everything wears an Italian character. The figures, and the gloomy buildings in many of the narrow streets, remind me of some of the pictures of Velasquez. At a place called Cannes, about twenty miles before we reached this, we stayed a few days; and there I saw some pretty coast scenery; and I am told that at Villa Franca (the real harbour of Nice) there are some interesting matters, quite on the coast, which I hope soon to see. We have been so continually moving, that, although I have made many notes, I have not had much time for finished studies; but, now that we are somewhat settled, I look forward to better things. Our original project of getting to Rome is for the present quite abandoned, owing to the strictness with which the quarantine laws are enforced. Should the cholera however leave Italy, I am on the spot to take advantage of such a change; and then I purpose leaving Harriet and the children at this place, where we have found very comfortable quarters, and making my way to Genoa, Florence, Rome, &c. The number of English here, who, like ourselves, have been thwarted in their designs upon Italy, is so much greater than usual, that accommodation for them is found with very great difficulty.

“I long to hear from you, and to know something about Art in England. Since I left Paris I know nothing about the English, but what I learn from ‘Galignani’s Messenger;’ and in that journal I was much shocked to read of poor Sir William Knighton’s (to me) unexpected death. I feel most deeply the loss his son has sustained, as well as his family, and all who had the happiness to know him. I had so much gratification in his acquaintance, and had promised myself so many advantages from his society, that his death is a great loss even to me; but to you, who had enjoyed a long and most intimate intercourse with him, it must have left a melancholy void. Do, pray, give my kindest regards to his son, and tell him how much the Consul here deplores his loss. I delivered Captain Hawker’s kind letter of introduction to him, (which was a joint one, containing as it did poor Sir William’s recommendation, as well as the Captain’s), soon after we had both become acquainted with the mournful intelligence contained in the journals.

“When at Paris, I saw Sir Robert, Lady, and Miss Peel, at the Louvre. Sir Robert was very kind in his inquiries about you. The Arts flourish at Paris: everything Bonaparte projected, is now finishing by the present government; and every artist is fully employed, at very competent prices. What is doing in poor England? I suppose you have now taken possession of the new Academy.* Of course, you are by this time established in the house I saw with you, and are hard at work. When I think of
work
and
home,
I fancy I should like to be back again; and yet, to be within reach of the Art of Italy, and not see with my own eyes, would be provoking indeed. I must therefore keep quiet, and hope for the best. Pray write as soon as your leisure will permit, and address your letter to me as under. Harriet (who will write below to your sister) and the children join me in every good wish towards Thomas, your sister, and yourself.

“Most sincerely, your obliged friend,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.

“P.S. Lord Brougham has building for him at Cannes a most delightful chateau, which we went to see. The grounds abound in orange groves, olive-trees, myrtles, Sec., backed by mountains, and open to the Mediterranean sea. Five thousand a year will enable the Ex-Chancellor to live here like a king.

* The Royal Academy removed, in 1837, from apartments in Somerset-house, to the present building in Trafalgar square.

I could not resist opening my letter to tell you this, that you may be enabled, when you see his Lordship, to congratulate him upon his taste. Regards to any Academic brethren who may care about us.”

“To WILLIAM COLLINS, ESQ., R.A.

“Kensington. November 14th, 1836.

“Dear Collins, — The announcement of your arrival, with Mrs. Collins, and the two young gentlemen, at Nice, was received by us all with the greatest satisfaction; giving us something to talk about at home, and to speak and write about to those at a distance. Interested as we all are in what you should see, I am glad, though not in Italy, that you have yet its climate, its buildings, and, above all — to you — its ancient, classical Mediterranean, before you; sure that, to your eye and your hand, such objects will turn to the best account.

“You mention the loss we have met with since you went, in the death of our most esteemed friend, Sir William Knighton, regretted much in his own profession, and by many in ours, for acts of kindness and friendship. He used to look to your journey as a happy coincidence with that intended by his son, the route and the time of which he hoped would be the same. Many will miss him, and no one more than myself. What you have with so much propriety stated, in regard to your own feelings upon the subject we all lament, I shall take occasion to convey to the present Sir William, who is now with the afflicted family, at Blendworth.

“You say how much every one must have “been working while you were travelling; but I feel as if I had done nothing since you left. I have not yet got possession of my new house. My subject of ‘Queen Mary escaping from Loch Leven Castle’ has just been painted by Leahy, at Brighton, to be in the Exhibition; same point of time, but, from his sketch, a different effect. Mr. Rice interested me much in your proceedings when at Paris. You say you are now comfortably accommodated at Nice. If so, do not leave: pick up what you can, in figures and buildings, for middle distances; and, if possible, Italian skies; which, with the green sea and shipping, are the same as Claude and Salvator had to paint; and since whose time no one is better qualified to render with true airy brilliancy than yourself.

“Pray offer my best regards to Mrs. Collins. If, per steamer, you could leave for a day or two, could you not get to Barcelona, or Genoa? but as to your leaving her or the youngsters for a more distant town, I should protest against it. I shall answer for this, — the young gentlemen have no dislike to travelling, with all its inconveniences, to any distance. Pray have they begun to
‘parler’
or
‘parlare?’
Kindest regards to all.

“Most faithfully and truly yours,

“DAVID WILKIE.”

Of my father’s various studies at Nice, those made from the inhabitants of the town and its neighbourhood were sometimes followed with more industry than success. Though an old beggar from the street, or an idle fisher-boy from the beach before the house, could be easily bribed to submit to the easy discipline of the painter’s pencil, frequent obstacles to his studies from Nature were presented by the refusal of many of the female peasantry to permit their Catholic persons to decorate the sketch-book of a “heretic,” until they had consulted their priest. In some cases, their spiritual advisers liberally left them to follow their own inclinations in the matter; and, under such circumstances, they seldom failed to present themselves to the painter immediately. When, on the contrary, the, permission to “sit” was refused, they as generally kept away. On such occasions, however, Mr. Collins was never entirely defeated. Trusting to his memory, which in matters of Art of this sort was surprisingly retentive, he drew them from recollection, composedly supplying any accidental slips of remembrance, from the dress or person of the first picturesque peasant woman he saw from his window, as for a few minutes only she passed by him in the street.

In his landscape studies, on the other hand, the painter found everything to attract and little to repel. From a hill near the town, noble views of the varied country, with its olive gardens, its vineyards, its pretty villages and its fine mountain background, freely presented themselves. At the neighbouring seaport of Villa Franca was to be found the fairest prospect of the town of Nice, seen from shores Studded with white villas, and enriched with orange groves down to the margin of the beach. Then, for foreground objects and more bounded scenes, he discovered a large garden near Nice, whose lofty trees and light vines, waving gracefully over their tall training poles, supplied him with the finest landscape materials, brightened by the dazzling brilliancy of an Italian autumn; saving, indeed, when the changeable climate of the place overcast the whole scene with the clouds, the mist, and the rain of a northern winter; for in this season, it was no uncommon sight at Nice, to perceive the countrywomen making hay on one day in November, and carrying their wares to market ankle-deep in rain, water, and mud the next. It was no uncommon occurrence to shade yourself one morning with an umbrella from the sun, and to fortify yourself the next with a great coat against the cold.