DEAN HOLE.
In 1858 a second series of "Pictures of Life and Character," and later a
third, were presented to a delighted public. The history of the immortal
Briggs, collected from _Punch's_ pages, was also published in separate
form. In this year Leech made the acquaintance of the Rev. S. Reynolds
Hole, now Dean of Rochester, a kindred spirit, whose admiration of the
artist's work had long created a burning desire for his personal
acquaintance. It was upon Easter Monday that the first meeting took
place, and thus Mr. Hole describes very correctly Leech's appearance:
"Well, he was very like my idea of him, only 'more so.' A slim, elegant
figure, over six feet in height, with a grand head, on which nature had
written 'gentleman'--with wonderful genius in his ample forehead;
wonderful penetration, observation, humour, in his blue-gray Irish
eyes; and wonderful sweetness, sympathy and mirth about his lips, which
seemed to speak in silence."
These words bring my old friend again before me, but I think Mr. Hole
fails to notice the slight shadow of melancholy that was never long
absent from his handsome face. Mr. Hole says that, vividly as the first
interview comes back to him, he can recall but little of the
conversation. It appears Leech had been out with the hounds on this
special Monday, in company with his friend Adams, in the Belvoir
country, where his presence soon became known to the "field"; and Leech
as speedily discovered, by the whisperings among the sportsmen, that he
was expected to perform acts of horsemanship which would throw those of
"Herne the Hunter" into insignificance. "He being the quietest and most
retiring of riders, much as he loved the sport, and never going over a
fence if he could find a gap or a gate, it seemed, nevertheless, to be
the general impression and belief of the yeomen who followed his Grace
of Rutland's hounds that when a fox was found the celebrated Mr. Leech
would utter a wild Irish yell, clench his teeth, put both spurs into his
steed, and bound over the country like a mad buck. His complete
inaptitude for these gymnastics, and the consequent disgust and
disappointment of the agricultural interest when he made early deviation
from the chase in favour of the King's highway, seemed to please him
vastly."
Mr. Hole also speaks enthusiastically of his first meeting Thackeray at
a dinner at Leech's, when he and Thackeray stood up together, like
Thornhill and Olivia in the "Vicar of Wakefield," to see which was the
taller. Mr. Hole won the day by proving himself to be two inches
"longer" than Thackeray, who was six feet two, the longer gentleman
being six feet four.
The story of Thackeray and a very tall friend going to see a giant, and
being asked by the man at the door of the exhibition if they "were in
the business," I have heard told differently. My friend Alfred Elmore,
R.A., who was intimate with Thackeray, in speaking of that great
writer's personal appearance (which, never prepossessing, had been
injured by a broken nose acquired in the same way as that misfortune
happened to Michael Angelo), told me that he--Thackeray--was passing by
an exhibition of a giant, when the humour took him to ask the man at the
door if he was in want of a giant.
"Well," said the man, "yes, we do; but not such a d----d ugly one as
you."
"John Leech's consideration for others," says Mr. Hole, "was patent
wherever he went; but his anxiety for his friends and their enjoyment
and amusement in his own house was a very winsome sight to see.... Far
too much of a gentleman to be a gourmand, though he was wont to say he
deserved a good dinner when he had done a hard day's work, and that, as
a matter of economy, he was reluctantly compelled to eat and drink of
the best lest he should injure his manipulation, he seemed to think,
nevertheless, that his guests were bound to be greedy, and that it was
his duty to provide the material. I remember that on one occasion the
strawberries were so large that he put the largest on a plate and handed
it to a servant, with a request that it might be carved on the
sideboard."
Mr. Hole gives a charming picture of Leech and himself in the sunny
glades of Sherwood Forest. After lamenting that the country might be
dull to the artist with only his friend's company to amuse him, and
expressing his anxiety on the subject, he says:
"I soon saw that my anxiety was foolish. It was evidently, as he said, a
grand enjoyment to him simply to sit under a tree and rest; to hear the
throstle instead of the hurdy-gurdy; to see the sun instead of the
smoke.... He could only sigh his admiration. Presently he opened his
pocket sketch-book, and put a point to his pencil; but he turned from
one bit of loveliness to another as he sauntered on, and soon closed his
book in a kind of profound but calm resignation. 'Much too beautiful for
work,' he said; 'I can do no work to-day.' So we sat among the bracken,
and drank that delicious air...."
Mr. Hole was, and perhaps still is, a great rose-grower; and the day
after the forest walk he gave a garden-party in honour of Leech and the
roses. The roses, it appears, were not only brilliant in their summer
glory on their native trees, but also glorious indeed on the faces of
the young ladies who fluttered about Leech, "with evident expectation of
having their portraits taken, for the future admiration of the world."
All this was delightful to Leech, but not "to one young man of sullen
temperament, who, after watching the idol of his heart 'making up,' as
he called it, to Leech with her fascinations, retired to a shrubbery to
smoke, and murmured a desire to 'punch that fellow's head.'..." I can
well imagine the pleasure of Leech in all his kind friends' care to
gratify him; and I can also imagine "the perplexity and annoyance" with
which he listened to the lady--let us hope she was neither pretty nor
young--who made him a speech in which she ended by telling him he was
"the delight of the nation."
It was in the evening of the day of the rose-show that Leech proposed a
visit to Ireland for a fortnight's holiday, begging his friend to go
with him. To this Mr. Hole consented, little dreaming that on the
following morning, just as he was leaving, Leech would say to him, "You
must write your impressions, and I will illustrate." Mr. Hole's modesty
took alarm, but with no reason, as the "Impressions" subsequently
proved. The result of this trip was the publication, in 1859, of a
volume entitled, "A Little Tour in Ireland; being a visit to Dublin,
Limerick, Killarney, Cork," etc., by an "Oxonian." The "Oxonian" was, of
course, Mr. Hole; and the illustrations showed Leech in his happiest
vein. These were in the form of coloured folding-plates and numerous
woodcuts.
The travellers did a great deal in the fortnight. They saw "Dublin,
Galway, the wild grandeur of Connemara, the scenery of the Shannon from
Athlone to Limerick, the gentle loveliness of Killarney, the miniature
prettiness of Glengariff, and that 'beautiful city called Cork.' ... Ah
me, how happy we were! Looking from the steamer at the calm
phosphorescent waves (so thankful they were calm, for we were miserable
mariners, though Leech had represented himself in a letter as revelling
in stormy seas), or gliding along the rails, or riding in cars, or
rowing in boats; listening to quaint carmen, oarsmen, and guides;
talking and laughing in genial converse with each other, or silent in
the serene fruition of the exquisite scenery around...."
Mr. Hole had ample opportunity for seeing Leech's method of making notes
from nature. It was not sketching from nature in the true sense of the
phrase, but simply memoranda, in a kind of shorthand, which was
afterwards elaborated into backgrounds, which are as true to nature as
the figures they relieve and foil. The same with faces that attracted
the artist from their peculiarities of character or expression; a few
touches were sufficient as guides for the finished heads and figures. I
have some examples in a sketch-book in my possession.
"Nothing," says Mr. Hole, "escaped him that was in any way absurd,
abnormal, incongruous, or in any way ridiculous; and a touch of his
elbow or a turn of his thumb drew my attention continually to something
amusing in the aspect or the remarks of those about us at the _table
d'hôte_, or the steamer, or public car, which else, in my obtuseness, I
had never relished.... It was always his rule, however pressed for time,
surrounded with engagements, or enticed by pleasures, never to 'scamp'
his work. Sometimes his rapidity of execution was marvellous, but there
was never haste. I have known him to send off from my own house three
finished drawings on the wood, designed, traced, and rectified, without
much effort, as it seemed, between breakfast and dinner. How I wish that
the world could have seen those blocks! They were entrusted, no doubt,
to the most skilful gravers of the day, but the exquisite fineness,
clearness, the faultless grace and harmony of the drawing, could not be
reproduced. If the position of an eyelash was altered, or the curve of a
lip was changed, there might be an ample remainder to convey the
intention and to win the admiration of those who never knew their loss,
but the _perfection_ of the original was gone. Again and again I have
heard him sigh as he looked over the new number of _Punch_; and as I,
seeing nothing but excellence, would ask an explanation, he would point
to some almost imperceptible obliquity which vexed his gentle soul."
Mr. Hole continued to be the intimate friend of Leech during the latter
part of a life that was indeed "too short for friendship, not for
fame"; and he speaks of the many eminent men whom he met at Leech's
house, with the gratification that might be expected from one who was
fully able to share in the "flow of soul" that distinguished those
meetings.