Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2137 page)

The shock caused by this sudden and lamentable event to the public mind is well remembered, and need not be dilated on here. The effect on Mr. Collins of the death of his beloved friend, of his solemn and forlorn burial, of his sudden disappearance for ever, at the very moment when all were most ready to welcome him, was at first overwhelming. He had looked to Wilkie’s new appearance before the public as anxiously as he had looked to his own; he had already anticipated with eager joy the new theories on Art that they should discuss, the new bonds of companionship in their pursuit that they should form, the new projects on which they should consult each other, as often as they met. And now, of all the days of their friendship, uninterrupted by a single feeling of indifference, or a passing moment of doubt, but the remembrance remained for him — of all his hopes, no vestige was ever to be fulfilled; there was nothing to think of now, but the death on the day of return, — the burial afar, in the great wilderness of the deep.

As soon as the death of Sir David Wilkie was publicly reported, many of those who had known him, incredulous of the affliction that had befallen them, and naturally unwilling, at such a moment, to seek correct information from his family, wrote to Mr. Collins, as his most intimate friend, to know the truth or falsehood of the fatal report they had just heard. In the occupation of replying to these inquiries; of announcing to some of Sir David’s patrons and his own the loss the Art had sustained; and, subsequently, in aiding as much as lay in his power the labours of those with whom he was associated, in the Committee of the “Wilkie Testimonial,” the painter found the best preservative against dwelling too unremittingly on the personal affliction he had experienced. One of the first of the possessors of “Wilkie’s pictures, and the admirers of Wilkie’s character and genius, to whom he conveyed the mournful intelligence of his friend’s death, was Sir Robert Peel. To that gentleman he wrote as follows:

“To THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROBERT PEEL, BART., M.P.

“85, Oxford-terrace, 8th June, 1841.

“Dear Sir, — I have just received the melancholy and too certain intelligence of the death of poor Sir David Wilkie. As he always spoke of your friendship as one of the most flattering circumstances of his life, I cannot refrain from writing to you. His character as a man and his powers as an artist you appreciated — his family and friends are sure of your sympathy under this awful visitation.

“I received a letter from him about ten days since; and only on Sunday last, had three others read to me by his sister, who was hourly expecting his longed-for arrival. The letter containing the account of his death, I have just read: it states that he died last Tuesday, suddenly, at Gibraltar, of water on the brain. His grave was in the sea.*

* Sir David Wilkie died in the “Oriental” steam-ship, off Gibraltar. Permission to land the body was refused — it was therefore buried, from the vessel, in the sea.

“To myself — next to his immediate relatives, perhaps the most intimate of his friends — the loss is unspeakable. I have the honour to remain, Sir,

“Your obliged and faithful servant,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

To what is contained in the above letter, and in the remarks that have preceded it, on Sir David Wilkie’s death, little more can advantageously be added in these pages. Fresh discussions on the genius of the great Scottish painter are unnecessary to his fame — he has been long since known and appreciated, wherever the practice of the Art is followed, or the influence of the Art enjoyed — and further illustrations of his character would be but a repetition of what has been already presented on that subject in these Memoirs. With the melancholy narrative of his death, the notices of him that have here been attempted must conclude. The fruits of his intellect will claim no larger a share of the genuine admiration of the public, than his personal endowments possess of the affectionate remembrance of his friends.

Of the two subjoined letters from Mr. Collins’s pen, the first was written during Mrs. Collins’s absence from home, on a visit to the family who had been the companions of the painter’s tour to Germany in 1840; and the second is dated from a town on the Sussex coast, where while staying with some friends, he gathered materials for one of his finest sea-pieces, when he resumed his illustrations of English scenes:

“To MRS. COLLINS.

“Oxford-terrace, August 14th, 1841.

“I trust the weather is now taking up, and that a few dry days may be of great benefit to your health — take care that you come home well; I think I never knew so long a month as the month of your absence. We go on as smoothly as it is possible without you; but none of us will ever put up with your roamings again. You do not say half enough about yourself in your scraps of letters — I believe you have forgotten us altogether, visiting fine folks! I do not remember whether I told you that I had promised to go to Seaford on the first of September, with Mr. Antrobus. Yesterday, Jones (who, poor fellow, is in great distress, having lost a dear friend, another victim to foreign climates) offered to take my evening duty at the Library, so I came home to Willie, who would have been dull enough by himself — as it was he was amused; for I had asked Mr. Ward to spend the evening with us. I saw Miss Wilkie, on Saturday and Sunday. Sir Robert Peel is to take the chair at the meeting for the Wilkie Monument, on Saturday the 28th. I have received a letter from Sir William Allan, who writes affectionately of poor dear Wilkie.

“Our dinner here went off admirably; and if you had left us the key of the plate-chest, we should not have been obliged to help the peas with tea-spoons, nor have been under the necessity of wiping our forks quite so often as we did. However, we had plenty of fun about it; and as dinners are in general very stupid affairs, this was a feature in ours.

“I am now going out for a cool ride, and hope next week to be quietly at work: I have done nothing but meet talkers since you left us; and talking continually, whether on my part or on the part of others, worries me. I have found a title for my new picture, as well as a motto for it; the latter being in ‘ Measure for Measure.’*

* This refers to the picture, called “The World or the Cloister,” then designed, but not exhibited till 1843.

“With many thanks to the party at Southsea for their kind attention to you,

“Ever yours,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

“To THE SAME.

“Seaford, September 1st, 1841.

“I have just a moment, before post time, to tell you that I am quite well, notwithstanding my very wet ride, and my folly in not taking my warm pea- jacket with me. My journey was not only a rainy one, but exceedingly cold. However, a comfortable meal about eight, a warm bed, and what I appreciate above all things, a warm welcome, brought all right again. I have just returned from a charming, sunny sea-side walk. To-day, with us, is the most complete summer’s day I have ever seen * * *.”

“September 13th, 1841. — I received your note, and having gathered from its random contents that you are all well, (devouring every day all the good things you can lay your hands upon, at my expense,) I could not but feel pleased and grateful. I am in pretty good health, but desperately idle; go to bed early, awake late, recollect how backward I am for the next Exhibition, what an idle wife I have, how poor I am, and that, unless I return to work, I shall be obliged to beat hemp in Her Majesty’s bread-and-water Hotel.

“And now for sober matters. I think it likely I shall not leave this place till Friday or Saturday. The weather has continued so fine, except two days, that you will be glad to hear I have spent almost the whole of my time out of doors, with great benefit to myself. The pea-jacket has been most useful: even yesterday, in the hottest sun, I sketched in it four hours. With an easterly wind and hot sun, it is indispensable. I praise your prompt thought in sending it at once.

“With prayers for you all, yours ever,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

While thus pleasantly occupied at Seaford, the painter did not suffer the pleasure of renewing his sketching experiences on his native coasts, to interfere seriously with the prosecution of his efforts in the Art at home. Before he departed for his country sojourn, he had advanced most of his new pictures far enough towards completion to satisfy every one — but himself; and after he returned, in the month of September, he resumed his labours with such unfailing assiduity, that he was enabled to send to the Exhibition of 1842, seven contributions a larger number of works than he had ever painted for the Academy before, or ever succeeded in preparing for it afterwards.

A more important characteristic, however, of his pictures in this Exhibition was, that in two of them were displayed the first examples of his return to the portrayal of English scenery since his departure for Italy. This resumption of the former localities of his subjects proceeded from no conviction that he was exhausting his collection of Italian materials. Four of his pictures of the year still illustrated the features of the beautiful country from which he had derived so much improvement in his Art, and hundreds of designs for foreign scenes, equal in interest to anything he had hitherto painted from his continental sketches, lay ready for him in his portfolio. Still less could the apprehension of a decay of patronage for his new efforts have had any share in inducing him to interrupt their exclusive continuation; for all the pictures he had painted since his journey to Italy had found purchasers. His partial return to his English subjects was simply the result of his desire to persevere in constantly varying the productions of his pencil, and of the revival of his old associations, caused by his renewal, at Seaford, of his studies on his native shores. In looking over his portfolio of English sketches, on his return to London in the autumn, his drawings from the little Welsh children at Llanberris, in 1834, first met his eye. Forcibly struck by their value after his long separation from them, and well aware that they had not hitherto been used, he determined to introduce them in one of his old rustic scenes; and thus originated the composition of his picture called “Welsh Guides.”

But it is necessary, before proceeding with the examination of his new works for the season, to insert two short letters from his pen, written before the opening of the Exhibition. Both are of some biographical importance: the first, as containing his reason for resigning this year the Librarianship of the Royal Academy; the second, as showing the nature of his opinions on the competition of 1842, for the decoration of the Houses of Parliament:

“To THE PRESIDENT AND COUNCIL OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

“Feb. 21st, 1842.

“Gentlemen, — Having learned that the resolution, passed in the General Assembly on the 10th instant, requires the attendance of the Librarian a third night in each week, I am compelled respectfully to resign the office I have had the honour to fill; not being able to give up so much time from my more immediate pursuits as that appointment now requires.

“I remain, Gentlemen, with great esteem,

“Your faithful and obedient servant,

“WILLIAM COLLINS.”

“To WILLIAM COLLINS, ESQ., R.A.

“Royal Academy, March 26th, 1842.

“My dear Sir, — The President and Council have directed me to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, announcing your resignation of the office of Librarian to the Royal Academy; and to assure you that they accept with great reluctance and regret, your notification that other demands upon your time will make it impossible for you to give any increased attention to the duties of a situation which you have shown yourself so well qualified to fill. Believe me,

“My dear Sir, &c., &c.,

“HENRY HOWARD,
Sec.
”

“To C. L. EASTLAKE, ESQ., R.A.

“85, Oxford-terrace, March 21st, 1842.

“Dear Eastlake, — In answer to your note of Thursday, I should say that, since it appears to be generally understood that our experienced painters will not compete for employment on the proposed decorations of the New Houses of Parliament, that therefore the competition must take place amongst the younger and less known members of the profession; and as it is also to be expected that the best of our established artists will, notwithstanding their refusal to compete, be employed; that consequently, the only inducement which can be held out to the young aspirants, is pecuniary reward, — not the hope of employment, but the chance of a prize.