Although Alexander Nasmyth had to a considerable extent lost his
aristocratic connection as a portrait painter, yet many kind and
generous friends gathered round him. During his sojourn in Italy,
in 1783, he had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Sir James
Hall of Dunglass, Haddingtonshire. The acquaintance afterwards ripened
into a deeply-rooted friendship.
During the winter season Sir James resided with his family in his town
house in George Street. He was passionately attached to the pursuit of
art and science. He practised the art of painting in my father's room,
and was greatly helped by him in the requisite manipulative skill.
Sir James was at that time engaged in writing his well-known essay
"On the Origin of Gothic Architecture," and in this my father was of
important use to him. He executed the greater number of the
illustrations for this beautiful work. The book when published had a
considerable influence in restoring the taste of architects to a style
which they had heretofore either neglected or degraded.
Besides his enthusiasm in art and architecture, Sir James devoted a
great deal of time to the study of geology. The science was then in
its infancy. Being an acute observer, Hall's attention was first
attracted to the subject by the singular geological features of the
sea-coast near his mansion at Dunglass. The neighbourhood of Edinburgh
also excited his interest. The upheaval of the rocks by volcanic heat
--as seen in the Castle Hill, the Calton Hill, and Arthur's Seat--
formed in a great measure the foundation of the picturesque beauty of
the city. Those were the days of the Wernerian and Huttonian
controversy as to the origin of the changes on the surface of the
earth. Sir James Ball was President of the Edinburgh Royal Society,
and necessarily took an anxious interest in the discussions.
He observed and experimented, and established the true volcanic nature
of the composition and formation of the rocks and mountains which
surround Edinburgh.
I have been led to speak of this subject, because when a boy I was
often present at the discussions of these great principles.
My father, Sir James Hall, Professors Playfair and Leslie, took their
accustomed walks round Edinburgh, and I clung eagerly to their words.
Though unable to understand everything that was said, these walks had a
great influence upon my education. Indeed, what education can compare
with that of listening attentively to the conversation and interchange
of thought of men of the highest intelligence? It is on such occasions
that ideas, not mere words, take hold of the memory, and abide there
until the close of life.
Besides mixing in the society of scientific men, my father enjoyed a
friendly intercourse with the artists of his day. He was often able to
give substantial help and assistance to young students; and he was most
liberal in giving them valuable practical instruction, and in assisting
them over the manipulative difficulties which lay in their way. He was
especially assiduous when he saw them inspired by the true spirit of
art, and full of application and industry,--without which nothing can
be accomplished. Amongst these young men were David Wilkie, Francis
Grant, David Roberts, Clarkson Stanfield, William Allan, Andrew Geddes,
"Grecian" Williams, Lizars the engraver, and the Rev. John Thomson of
Duddingston.
Henry Raeburn was one of his most intimate friends and companions.
He considered Raeburn's broad and masterly style of portrait painting
as an era in Scottish art. Raeburn, with innate tact, discerned the
character of his sitters, and he imparted so much of their
individuality into his portraits as to make them admirable likenesses
in the highest sense. In connection with Raeburn, I may mention that
when he was knighted by George IV. in 1822, my father, who was then at
the head of his profession in Scotland, was appointed chairman at the
dinner held to do honour to the great Scottish portrait painter.
Raeburn often joined my father in his afternoon walks round Edinburgh
--a relaxation so very desirable after hours of close attention to
artistic work. They took delight in the wonderful variety of
picturesque scenery by which the city is surrounded. The walks about
Arthur's Seat were the most enjoyable of all. When a boy I had often
the pleasure of accompanying them, and of listening to their
conversation. I thus picked up many an idea that served me well in
after life. Indeed, I may say, after a long experience, that there is
no class of men whose company I more delight in than that of artists.
Their innate and highly-cultivated power of observation, not only as
regards the ever-varying aspects of nature, but also as regards the
quaint, droll, and humorous varieties of character, concur in rendering
their conversation most delightful. I look back on these walks as
among the brightest points in my existence. I have been led to digress
on this subject. Although more correctly belonging to my father's
life, yet it is so amalgamated with my own that it almost forms part of
it, and it is difficult for me to separate the one from the other.
And then there were the pleasant evenings at home. When the day's work
was over, friends looked in to have a fireside crack--sometimes
scientific men, sometimes artists, often both. They were all made
welcome. There was no formality about their visits. Had they been
formal, there would have been comparatively little pleasure.
The visitor came in with his "Good e'en", and seated himself.
The family went on with their work as before. The girls were usually
busy with their needles, and others with pen and pencil. My father
would go on with the artistic work he had in hand, for his industry was
incessant. He would model a castle or a tree, or proceed with some
proposed improvement of the streets or approaches of the rapidly
expanding city. Among the most agreeable visitors were Professor
Leslie, James Jardine, C.E., and Dr. Brewster. Their conversation was
specially interesting. They brought up the last new thing in science,
in discovery, in history, or in campaigning, for the war was then
raging throughout Europe.
The artists were a most welcome addition to the family group.
Many a time did they set the table in a roar with their quaint and
droll delineations of character. These unostentatious gatherings of
friends about our fireside were a delightful social institution.
The remembrance of them lights up my recollection of the happiest
period of a generally happy life. Could I have been able to set forth
the brightness and cheerfulness of these happy evenings at my father's
house, I am fain to think that my description might have been well
worth reading. But all the record of them that remains is a most
cherished recollection of their genial tone and harmony, which makes me
think that, although in these days of rapid transit over earth and
ocean, and surrounded as we are with the results of applied scientific
knowledge, we are not a bit more happy than when all the vaunted
triumphs of science and so-called education were in embryo.
The supper usually followed, for my father would not allow his visitors
to go away supperless. The meal did not amount to much. Rizard or
Finnan harddies, or a dish of oysters, with a glass of Edinburgh ale,
and a rummer of toddy, concluded these friendly evenings. The cry of
"Caller Aou" was constantly heard in the streets below of an evening.
When the letter r was in the name of the month, the supply of oysters
was abundant. The freshest oysters, of the most glorious quality, were
to be had at 2s. 6d. the hundred! And what could be more refreshing
food for my father's guests? These unostentatious and inexpensive
gatherings of friends were a most delightful social institution among
the best middle-class people of Edinburgh some sixty or seventy years
ago. What they are now I cannot tell. But I fear they have
disappeared in the more showy and costly tastes that have sprung up in
the progress of what is called "modern society."
No part of my father's character was more admirable than his utter
unselfishness. He denied himself many things, that he might give the
greater pleasure to his wife and children. He would scarcely take part
in any enjoyment, unless they could have their fair share of it. In all
this he was faithfully followed by my mother. The admirable example of
well-sustained industry that was always before her, sustained her in
her efforts for the good of her family. She was intelligently
interested in all that related to her husband's business and interests,
as well as in his recreative enjoyments. The household affairs were
under her skilful guidance. She conducted them with economy, and yet
with generous liberality, free from the least taint of ostentation or
extravagance. The home fireside was a scene of cheerfulness.
And most of our family have been blest with this sunny gift. Indeed,
a merrier family circle I have never seen. There were twelve persons
round the table to be provided for, besides two servants.
This required, on my mother's part, a great deal of management,
as every housekeeper will know. Yet everything was provided and paid
for within the year's income.
The family result of my father and mother's happy marriage was four
sons and seven daughters. Patrick, the eldest, was born in 1787.
He was called after my father's dear and constant friend, Patrick
Miller of Dalswinton. I will speak by and by of his artistic
reputation. Then followed a long succession of daughters--
Jane, the eldest', was born in 1788; Barbara 1790; Margaret in 1791;
Elizabeth in 1793; Anne in 1798; Charlotte in 1804.
Then came a succession of three sons--Alexander, George,and James.
There followed another daughter, Mary; but as she only lived for about
eighteen months, I remained the youngest of the family.
My sisters all possessed, in a greater or less degree, an innate love
of art, and by their diligent application they acquired the practice of
painting landscape in oils. My father's admirable system and method of
teaching rendered them expert in making accurate sketches from nature,
which, as will afterwards be seen, they turned to good account.
My eldest sister, Jane, was in all respects a most estimable character,
and a great help to my mother in the upbringing of the children.
Jane was full of sound common sense; her judgment seemed to be beyond
her years. Because of this the younger members of the family jokingly
nicknamed her "Old Solid"!--Even my father consulted her in every
case of importance in reference to domestic and financial affairs.
I had the great good fortune, when a child, to be placed under her
special protection, and I have reason to be thankful for the
affectionate care which she took of me during the first six years of
my life.
Besides their early education in art, my mother was equally earnest in
her desire to give her daughters a thorough practical knowledge in
every department and detail of household management. When they had
attained a suitable age they were in succession put in charge of all
the household duties for two weeks at a time. The keys were given over
to them, together with the household books, and at the end of their
time their books were balanced to a farthing. They were then passed on
to the next in succession. One of the most important branches of
female education--the management of the domestic affairs of a family,
the superintendence of the cooking so as to avoid waste of food, the
regularity of the meals, and the general cleaning up of the rooms--
was thus thoroughly attained in its best and most practical forms.
And under the admirable superintendence of my mother everything in our
family went on like clockwork.
My father's object was to render each and all of his children--
whether boys or girls--independent on their arrival at mature years.
Accordingly, he sedulously kept up the attention of his daughters to
fine art. By this means he enabled them to assist in the maintenance
of the family while at home, and afterwards to maintain themselves by
the exercise of their own abilities and industry after they had left.
To accomplish this object, as already described, he set on foot drawing
classes, which were managed by his six daughters, superintended by
himself.
Edinburgh was at that time the resort of many county families.
The war which raged abroad prevented their going to the Continent.
They therefore remained at home, and the Scotch families for the most
part took up their residence in Edinburgh. There were many young
ladies desiring to complete their accomplishments, and hence the
establishment of my sisters' art class. It was held in the large
painting-room in the upper part of the house. It soon became one of
the most successful institutions in Edinburgh. When not engaged in
drawing and oil painting, the young ladies were occupied in sketching
from nature, under the superintendence of my sisters, in the outskirts
of Edinburgh. This was one of the most delightful exercises in which
they could be engaged; and it also formed the foundation for many
friendships which only terminated with life.
My father increased the interest of the classes by giving little art
lectures. They were familiar but practical. He never gave lectures as
such, but rather demonstrations. It was only when a pupil encountered
some technical difficulty, or was adopting some wrong method of
proceeding, that he undertook to guide them by his words and practical
illustrations. His object was to embue the minds of the pupils with
high principles of art. He would take up their brushes and show by his
dexterous and effective touches how to bring out, with marvellous ease,
the right effects of the landscape. The other pupils would come and
stand behind him, to see and hear his clear instructions carried into
actual practice on the work before him. He often illustrated his
little special lessons by his stores of instructive and interesting
anecdotes, which no doubt helped to rivet his practice all the deeper
into their minds. Thus the Nasmyth classes soon became the fashion.
In many cases both mothers and daughters might be seen at work together
in that delightful painting-room. I have occasionally met with some of
them in after years, who referred to those pleasant hours as among the
most delightful they had ever spent.
These classes were continued for many years. In the meantime my
sisters' diligence and constant practice enabled them in course of time
to exhibit their works in the fine art exhibitions of Edinburgh.
Each had her own individuality of style and manner, by which their
several works were easily distinguished from each other. Indeed,
whoever works after Nature will have a style of their own. They all
continued the practice of oil painting until an advanced age.
The average duration of their lives was about seventy-eight.
There was one point which my father diligently impressed upon his
pupils, and that was the felicity and the happiness attendant upon
pencil drawing. He was a master of the pencil, and in his off-hand
sketches communicated his ideas to others in a way that mere words
could never have done. It was his Graphic Language. A few strokes of
the pencil can convey ideas which quires of writing would fail to
impart. This is one of the most valuable gifts which a man who has to
do with practical subjects can possess. "The language of the pencil"
is a truly universal one, especially in communicating ideas which have
reference to material forms. And yet it is in a great measure
neglected in our modern system of education.
The language of the tongue is often used to disguise our thoughts,
whereas the language of the pencil is clear and explicit. Who that
possesses this language can fail to look back with pleasure on the
course of a journey illustrated by pencil drawings? They bring back to
you the landscapes you have seen, the old streets, the pointed gables,
the entrances to the old churches, even the bits of tracery, with a
vividness of association such as mere words could never convey.
Thus, looking at an old sketch-book brings back to you the recollection
of a tour, however varied, and you virtually make the journey over
again with its picturesque and beautiful associations. On many a fine
summer's day did my sisters make a picnic excursion into the
neighbourhood of Edinburgh. They were accompanied by their pupils,
sketch-book and pencil in hand. As I have already said, there is no
such scenery near any city that I know of. Arthur's Seat and Salisbury
Crags, Duddingston Loch, the Braid Hills, Craigmillar Castle,
Hawthornden, Roslin, Habbie's How, and the many valleys and rifts in
the Pentlands, with Edinburgh and its Castle in the distance; or the
scenery by the sea-shore, all round the coast from Newhaven to Gullane
and North Berwick Law.
The excursionists came home laden with sketches. I have still by me a
multitude of these graphic records made by my sisters. Each sketch,
however slight, strikes the keynote, as it were, to many happy
recollections of the circumstances, and the persons who were present at
the time it was made. I know not of any such effective stimulant to
the recollection of past events as these graphic memoranda.
Written words may be forgotten, but these slight pencil recollections
imprint themselves on the mind with a force that can never be effaced.
Everything that occurred at the time rises up as fresh in the memory as
if hours and not years had passed since then. They bring to the mind's
eye many dear ones who have passed away, and remind us that we too must
follow them.
It is much to be regretted that this valuable art of graphic memoranda
is not more generally practised. It is not merely a most valuable help
to the memory, but it educates the eye and the hand, and enables us to
cultivate the faculty of definite observation. This is one of the most
valuable accomplishments that I know of, being the means of storing up
ideas, and not mere words, in the mental recollection of both men and
women.
Before I proceed to record the recollections of my own life, I wish to
say something about my eldest brother Patrick, the well-known landscape
painter. He was twenty-one years older than myself! My father was his
best and almost his only instructor. At a very early age he manifested
a decided taste for drawing and painting. His bent was landscape.
This gave my father great pleasure, as it was his own favourite branch
of art. The boy acquired great skill in sketching trees, clouds,
plants, and foregrounds. He studied with wonderful assiduity and
success. I possess many of his graphic memoranda, which show the care
and industry with which he educated his eye and hand in rendering with
truth and fidelity the intimate details of his art. The wild plants
which he introduced into the foregrounds of his pictures were his
favourite objects of study. But of all portions of landscape nature,
the Sky was the one that most delighted him. He studied the form and
character of clouds--resting cloud, the driving cloud, and the rain
cloud--and the sky portions of his paintings were thus rendered so
beautifully attractive.
He was so earnest in his devotion to the study of landscape that in
some respects he neglected the ordinary routine of school education.
He successfully accomplished the three R.'s, but after that his school
was the fields, in the face of Nature. He was by no means a Romantic
painter. His taste was essentially for Home subjects. In his
landscapes he introduced picturesque farm-houses and cottages,
with their rural surroundings; and his advancement and success were
commensurate with his devotion to this fine branch of art. The perfect
truth with which he represented English scenery, associated as it is
with so many home-loving feelings, forms the special attractiveness of
his works. This has caused them to be eagerly sought after,
and purchased at high prices.
Patrick had a keen sense of humour, though in other respects he was
simple and unpretending. He was a great reader of old-fashioned
novels, which indeed in those days were the only works of the kind to
be met with. The Arabian Nights, Robinson crusoe, The Mysteries of
Udolpho, and such like, were his favourites, and gave a healthy filip
to his imagination. He had also a keen relish for music, and used to
whistle melodies and overtures as he went along with his work.
He acquired a fair skill in violin playing. While tired with sitting
or standing he would take up his violin, play a few passages, and then
go to work again.
Patrick removed to London in 1808, and exhibited at the Royal Academy
in the following year. He made excursions to various parts of England,
where he found subjects congenial to his ideas of rural beauty.
The immediate neighbourhood of London, however, a bounded with the most
charming and appropriate subjects for his pencil. These consisted of
rural "bits" of the most picturesque but homely description--decayed
pollard trees and old moss-grown orchards, combined with cottages and
farm-houses in the most paintable state of decay, with tangled hedges
and neglected fences, overrun with vegetation clinging to them with all
"the careless grace of Nature." However neglected these might be by the
farmer, they were always tit-bits for Patrick. When sketching such
subjects he was in his glory, and he returned to his easel loaded with
sketch-book treasures, which when painted form the gems of many a
collection.
In some of these charming subjects glimpses of the distant capital may
be observed, with the dome of St. Paul's in the distance; but they are
introduced with such skill and correctness as in no way to interfere
with the rural character of his subject. When he went farther afield
--to Windsor Forest, Hampshire, the New Forest, or the Isle of Wight
--he was equally diligent with his pencil, and came home laden with
sketches of the old monarchs of the forest. When in a state of partial
decay his skilful touch brought them to life again, laden with branches
and lichen, with leaves and twigs and bark, and with every feature that
gives such a charm to these important elements in true English
landscape scenery. On my brother's first visit to London, accompanied
by my father, he visited many collections where the old Dutch masters
were to be seen, and he doubtless derived much advantage from his
careful studies, more particularly from the works of Hobbema, Ruysdael,
and Wynants. These came home to him as representations of Nature as
she is. They were more free from the traditional modes of representing
her. The works of Claude Lorraine and Richard Wilson were also the
objects of his admiration, though the influence of the time for
classicality of treatment to a certain extent vitiated these noble
works. When a glorious sunset was observed, the usual expression among
the lovers of art was, "What a magnificent Claudish effect!" thus
setting up the result of man's feeble attempt at representation as the
standard of comparison, in place of the far grander original!
My brother carefully studied Nature herself. His works, following
those of my father, led back the public taste to a more healthy and
true condition, and by the aid of a noble army of modern British
landscape painters, this department of art has been elevated to a very
high standard of truth and excellence.
I find some letters from Patrick to my father, after his settlement as
an artist in London. My father seems to have supplied him with money
during the early part of his career, and afterwards until he had
received the amount of his commissions for pictures. In one of his
letters he says: "That was an unlucky business, the loss of that order
which you were so good as send me on my account." It turned out that
the order had dropt out of the letter enclosing it, and was not
recovered. In fact, Patrick was very careless about all money
transactions.
In 1814 he made the acquaintance of Mr. Barnes, and accompanied him to
Bure Cottage, Ringwood, near Southampton, where he remained for some
time. He went into the New Forest, and brought home "lots of sketches."
In 1815 he exhibited his works at the Royal Academy. He writes to his
father that "the prices of my pictures in the Gallery are--
two at fourteen guineas each (small views in Hampshire), one at
twelve guineas, and two at fourteen guineas. They are all sold but
one. These pictures would now fetch in the open market from two to
three hundred guineas each. But in those days good work was little
known, and landscapes especially were very little sought after.
Patrick Nasmyth's admirable rendering of the finer portions of
landscape nature attracted the attention of collectors, and he received
many commissions from them at very low prices. There was at that time
a wretched system of delaying the payment for pictures painted on
commission, as well as considerable loss of time by the constant
applications made for the settlement of the balance. My brother was
accordingly under the necessity of painting his pictures for the
Dealers, who gave him at once the price which he required for his
works. The influence of this system was not always satisfactory.
The Middlemen or Dealers, who stood between the artist and the final
possessor of the works, were not generous. They higgled about prices,
and the sums which they gave were almost infinitesimal compared with
the value of Patrick Nasmyth's pictures at the present time.
The Dealers were frequent visitors at his little painting-room in his
lodgings. They took undue advantage of my brother's simplicity and
innate modesty in regard to the commercial value of his works. When he
had sketched in a beautiful subject, and when it was clear that in its
highest state of development it must prove a fine work, the Dealer
would pile up before him a row of guineas, or sovereigns, and say,
"Now, Peter, that picture's to be mine!", The real presence of cash
proved too much for him. He never was a practical man. He agreed to
the proposal, and thus he parted with his pictures for much less than
they were worth. He was often remonstrated with by his brother artists
for letting them slip out of his hands in that way--works that he
would not surrender until he had completed them, and brought them up to
the highest point of his fastidious taste and standard of excellence.
Among his dearest friends were David Roberts and Clarkson Stanfield.
He usually replied to their friendly remonstrances by laughingly
pointing to his bursting portfolios of sketches, and saying,
"There's lots of money in these banks to draw from." He thus warded off
their earnest and often-repeated remonstrances. Being a single man,
and his habits and style of living of the most simple kind, he had very
little regard for money except as it ministered to his immediate
necessities. His evenings were generally spent at a club of brother
artists "over the water;" and in their company he enjoyed many a
pleasant hour. His days were spent at his easel. They were
occasionally varied by long walks into the country near London,
for the purpose of refilling his sketch-book.
It was on one of such occasions--when he was sketching the details of
some picturesque pollard old willows up the Thames, and standing all
the time in wet ground--that he caught a severe cold which confined
him to the house. He rapidly became worse. Two of his sisters,
who happened to be in London at the time, nursed him with devoted
attention. But it was too late. The disease had taken fatal hold of
him. On the evening of the l7th August 1831 there was a violent
thunderstorm. At length the peals of thunder ceased, the rain passed
away, and the clouds dispersed. The setting sun burst forth in a
golden glow. The patient turned round on his couch and asked that the
curtains might be drawn. It was done. A blaze of sunset lit up his
weary and worn-out face. "How glorious it is!" he said. Then, as the
glow vanished he fell into a deep and tranquil sleep, from which he
never awoke. Such was the peaceful end of my brother Patrick, at the
comparatively early age of forty-four years.