“Chantrey told me that on one of his visits to Oxford, Professor
Buckland said to him ‘If you will come to me, you shall hear yourself
well abused.’ He had borrowed a picture of Bishop Heber, from the
Hall of New College, to make a statue from; and having kept it longer
than he had promised, the woman who showed the Hall was very bitter
against him. ‘There is no dependence,’ she said, ‘to be placed on that
Chantrey. He is as bad as Sir Thomas Lawrence, who has served me just
the same; there is not a pin to choose between them.’ She pointed to
the empty frame, and said, ‘It is many a shilling out of my pocket,
the picture not being there; they make a great fuss about that statue
of----’ (mentioning one by Chantrey, that had lately been sent to one
of the colleges), ‘but we have one by Bacon, which, in my opinion, is
twice as good. When Chantrey’s statue came, I had ours washed; I used a
dozen pails of water, and I am sure I made it look a great deal better
than his.’ He took out a five-shilling piece, and putting it into her
hand, but without letting it go, said, ‘Look at me, and tell me whether
I look like a very bad man.’ ‘Lord, no, sir.’ ‘Well, then, I am that
Chantrey you are so angry with.’ She seemed somewhat disconcerted; but
quickly recovering herself, replied, ‘And if you are, sir, I have said
nothing but what is true,’ and he resigned the money into her hand.”
_FASHION._
On one occasion, at a dinner party, he was placed nearly opposite
his wife at table, at the time when very large and full sleeves were
worn, of which Lady C. had a very fashionable complement; and the
sculptor perceived that a gentleman sitting next to her was constrained
to confine his arms, and shrink into the smallest dimensions, lest
he should derange the superfluous attire. Chantrey, observing this,
addressed him thus: “Pray, sir, do not inconvenience yourself from the
fear of spoiling those sleeves, for that lady is my wife; those sleeves
are mine, and as I have paid for them, you are at perfect liberty to
risk any injury your personal comfort may cause to those prodigies of
fashion!” Also, noticing a lady with sleeves curiously cut, he affected
to think the slashed openings were from economical motives, and said,
“What a pity the dressmaker should have spoiled your sleeves! It was
hardly worth while to save such a little bit of stuff.”
[Illustration]
_CONSTABLE (JOHN), R.A._
John Constable, born in Suffolk, in the year 1776, passed his infancy
in a beautifully rural country, the scenery of which he was in love
with to the day of his death. His predilection for the art was
developed before he reached the age of sixteen. Mrs. Constable procured
for her son an introduction to Sir George Beaumont. Sir George had
expressed himself much pleased with the youth’s pen-and-ink copies. He
was sent to pursue his studies in London; and in 1799, writing to a
friend, he says:--
“I paint by all the daylight we have, and there is little enough. I
sometimes see the sky; but imagine to yourself how a pearl must look
through a burnt glass. I employ my evenings in making drawings and in
reading, and I hope by the former to clear my rent. If I can, I shall
be very happy. Our friend Smith has offered to take any of my pictures
into his shop for sale. He is pleased to find I am reasonable in my
prices.”
Again, in Leslie’s memoirs of the artist we have the following
memorandum of Constable:--
“For these few weeks past I have thought more seriously of my
profession than at any other time of my life; of that which is the
surest way to excellence. I am just returned from a visit to Sir
George Beaumont’s pictures, with a deep conviction of the truth of Sir
Joshua Reynolds’ observation, that ‘there is no easy way of becoming
a good painter.’ For the last two years I have been running after
pictures, and seeking the truth at second-hand. I have not endeavoured
to represent nature with the same elevation of mind with which I set
out, but have rather tried to make my performances look like the work
of other men. I am come to a determination to make no idle visits this
summer, nor to give up my time to commonplace people. I shall return
to Bergholt, where I shall endeavour to get a pure and unaffected
manner of representing the scenes that may employ me. There is little
or nothing in the Exhibition worth looking up to. _There is room
enough for a natural painter._ The great vice of the present day is
_bravura_,--an attempt to do something beyond the truth. Fashion always
had, and will have, its day; but truth in all things only will last,
and can only have just claims on posterity. I have reaped considerable
benefit from exhibiting; it shows me where I am, and in fact tells me
what nothing else could.”
Constable kept up a wide correspondence among his friends, from which
correspondence one of his most intimate friends, C. R. Leslie,
compiled and published, with much taste and discretion, Memoirs of his
Life.
Constable died in the year 1837.
_ARCHDEACON FISHER._
After preaching one Sunday, the archdeacon asked the artist how he
liked his sermon: he replied--“Very much indeed, Fisher; I always did
like that sermon.”
_CONSTABLES PLEASANTRY._
A picture of a murder sent to the Academy for exhibition while
Constable was on the council, was refused admittance on account of a
disgusting display of blood and brains in it; but Constable objected
still more to the wretchedness of the work, and said: “I see no
_brains_ in the picture.”
This recalls another which is related of Opie, who, when a young artist
asked him what he mixed his colours with, replied, “_Brains_.”
It being complained to him by his servant that the milk supplied was
very poor and weak in quality, he said one morning to the milkman: “In
future, we shall feel obliged if you will send us the milk and the
water in separate cans.”
[Illustration]
_COLLINS (WILLIAM), R.A._
William Collins was born in London, in September, 1788. At an early age
his father noticed his son’s talent, and sent him to the Royal Academy
to pursue his studies. His skill in a short time was such that he
became a valuable assistant to his father in his business of cleansing
and restoring pictures; and when he rose to paint pictures for himself,
his father was at a loss what to do without him.
“The first intimation I gave,” says his father, “of my incapacity
to restore, or even line, the pictures without the aid of my son
William, was on last Wednesday. There was a beautiful large landscape
by Ostade--the figures by A. Teniers. I pointed out the necessary
repairs in the sky which were wanted to make the picture complete; and,
of course, mentioned Bill as superior to every other artist in that
department. The squire listened very attentively until I had done, and
then inquired what the expense of such repairs might be. I answered,
about two or three guineas. “Oh, d----n the sky! clean it and stick it
up without any repairs then!”
In 1807, Collins became for the first time exhibitor at the Royal
Academy, and fifteen years later a Royal Academician, He married in
1822. He passed the years 1837 and 1838 studying his art in Italy.
He says in his journal: “A painter should choose those subjects with
which people associate pleasant circumstances: it is not sufficient
that a scene pleases _him_.” And this advice it is plain he acted upon
himself to the end of his career. While living, he had the satisfaction
(very rare to the most successful) of seeing his pictures fetch high
prices. For instance--for his “Frost Scene” Sir Robert Peel paid him
500 guineas, Mr. Young gave him for his “Skittle Players” 400 guineas;
and the same sum was paid him by Sir Thomas Baring for his “Mussel
Gatherers.”
The life of Collins was a success from the first year he entered as
a student at the Royal Academy; and though his life has been called
uneventful, the English artist will ever cherish his name.
He died in 1847, aged fifty-nine. His Life, with selections from his
correspondence, is plainly and affectionately told by the artist’s son,
Mr. Wilkie Collins, published in two vols., 1848.
_COMPLAINT AGAINST THE HANGING COMMITTEE._
The following are given by Wilkie Collins in his Memoirs.
“TO H. HOWARD, ESQ., R.A.
GREAT PORTLAND STREET, _1st May, 1811_.
“SIR,--Finding one of my pictures put upon the hearth in the ‘Great
Room,’ where it must inevitably meet with some accident from the people
who are continually looking at Mr. Bird’s picture; I take the liberty
of requesting you will allow me to order a sort of case to be put round
the bottom part of the frame, to protect it (as well as the picture)
from the kicks of the crowd. Even the degrading situation in which the
picture is placed would not have induced me to trouble you about it had
it been _my_ property; but, as it was painted on commission, I shall be
obliged to make good any damage it may sustain.
I remain, sir, your obedient, humble servant,
W. COLLINS, JUN.”
“TO MR. COLLINS, JUN.
ROYAL ACADEMY, _May 1, 1811_.
“SIR,--I conceive there will be no objection to your having a narrow
wooden border put round the picture you speak of, if you think such
a precaution necessary, provided it be done any morning before the
opening of the Exhibition; and you may show this to the porter as an
authority for bringing in a workman for that purpose. I cannot help
expressing some surprise that you should consider the situation of your
picture degrading, knowing as I do that the Committee of Arrangement
thought it complimentary, and that, as low as it is, many members of
the Academy would have been content to have it.