AUTOGRAPH-HUNTERS AND OTHERS.
No doubt all painters, poets, literary men, Churchmen--in short, all men
who have attained to more or less celebrity--become the prey of the
autograph-hunter, either in the form of a boy at school, a young lady
whose life is made continuous sunshine by the contemplation of your
pictures or the study of your delightful poems, or an elderly gentleman
who has watched your career with intense interest from its beginning.
Each of these applicants, strange to say, avers that he or she will be
made happier by the possession of your name on a card or a piece of
paper which is enclosed for your signature, and in addition to your
"valued name," if you happen to be an artist, "if you will add a slight
sketch," the gratitude of the hunter will know no bounds. I have been
guilty on one or two occasions of complying with a desire that seems to
verge upon the unreasonable; but my folly is as nothing compared to
that of Edwin Landseer, who was a frequent and willing victim to such
imposition. On one of the many occasions when I had the happiness of
receiving Landseer at my house, the conversation turned upon the
autograph-hunter, whose habits were strongly anathematized by some of
us; the great painter defended the craze as harmless, easily gratified,
and complimentary to the objects of it.
"Only this morning," said he, "I had an application from someone at
Birmingham for my name, and for a sketch of a dog's head added to it;
well, I complied with both desires."
I confess to my surprise when I heard this, and I was amused on hearing
artists who were present exclaim loudly against such a proceeding, as
creating a precedent that they would be expected to follow. Harmless,
however, is the autograph pest in comparison with the really terrible
_album_, which bids unblushingly for work that may consume many hours of
the time of the painter or the poet. Here, again, Landseer was a great
sinner; many a splendidly bound album lies at this moment on gilded
tables in stately English mansions, the homes of our "old nobility,"
with delightful drawings of sporting scenes by that cunning hand; and
there are instances, I am sorry to say, of the possessors being unable
to resist the sums offered for the purchase of their treasures so
cheaply acquired.
As I am speaking of Edwin Landseer, I seize the opportunity of
expressing my great regret that my friend Mr. Sidney Cooper, R.A., in
his recently published memoirs, should have created an impression in the
public mind that Landseer was a drunkard. From my intimate knowledge of
Landseer, I can aver that nothing could be further from the fact. I have
dined in his company scores of times, and I have met him in all kinds of
society, and under conditions which would have made the propensity, if
it possessed him, irresistible; and never in a single instance did I, or
anyone else, see Landseer even _excited_ by drink. This was the habit of
the man until about a year and a half before his death, when the brain
disorder began which afterwards destroyed him. I cannot disguise from
myself that if Mr. Cooper had questioned the physicians who attended
Landseer in his last illness, he would have been told that a craving for
drink of every kind is one of the peculiarities of the disease which
every sufferer from it is quite unable to resist. I know that great care
was taken to keep stimulants from the illustrious patient; but that he
may have secretly possessed himself of wine or spirits on certain
occasions, and in that way given a colour to the report of his drunken
habits, is probable enough; but I venture to think a
brother-artist--even if the charge of habitual intoxication could have
been proved against this great painter--should have been mournfully
silent; how much more careful, then, should he have been, if he
desired--perhaps as a warning--to proclaim this terrible failing, to
ascertain whether he had truthful ground to go upon.
I do not in the least apologize for the above, though it is "far wide"
of the purpose of this chapter; but I feel that my complaint against
albums is a little ungracious and ungrateful in the face of the
admirable page of sketches with which my publisher has supplied me. (See
note at the end of this chapter.)
Mr. Richard Bentley was the possessor of an autograph-book and album
combined; but he did not solicit the aid of strangers to fill it,
thereby creating a wide difference between himself and the ordinary
album nuisance. "My father," says Mr. George Bentley, "started an
autograph-book, and got Cruikshank, Leech, and some others to give a
sketch, or, if not an artist, an autograph. Leech did one in colour. It
was so superior to anything in the volume that I cut it out and framed
it, and so see it every day in my life."
The idea is to reproduce some of the characters he was so fond of
sketching, and some he had actually given; for instance, the girl in bed
is, I think, from the scene where a man gets up at night to fire at some
cats. The wife suddenly awakes, and finds him looking out of window, gun
in hand, and imagines thieves. The _voyez vous_[Illustration] is
delicious, and the old gentleman with "Now, it's my opinion," etc., I am
pretty sure is taken from a sketch in some work he had illustrated.
So far Mr. George Bentley, who shows that his father, who was the
liberal employer of Leech, Dickens, Cruikshank, and so many others, had
a _raison d'être_ for his requests in favour of his album.
I supplement Mr. Bentley's remarks on this delightful page by calling my
readers' special attention to that charming little boy and his dreadful
old grandmother--"Will Charley come and live with his gran-ma?" Study
well that little boy's face, beautiful as an angel's, as he looks
wondering at the hideous old woman--will he live with her? not, I
think, if he can help it. See, also, the lovely little group of the
ill-assorted couple--old husband and young wife. More terrible the
lady's fate there than Charley's with his "Gran-ma."
I have now to notice another album belonging to no less a person than
the late Duke of Devonshire. Leech made the Duke's acquaintance while
staying with Millais at the Peacock, Baslow, a place within easy
distance of Chatsworth; where, by the way, Millais painted the perfect
likeness of Leech which, by his kindness, is allowed to enrich this
volume, and where, by Sir Joseph Paxton, I think, Leech was introduced
to the Duke, and entertained with much kindness at Chatsworth. How the
album was introduced to Leech, and whether the Duke asked for a sketch
or the artist volunteered it, I have no evidence to offer; but that a
design was made and repeated, the following letters from the Duke
sufficiently prove:
"August 6, 1851.
"DEAR SIR,
"I am so much charmed with your device that I must have a seal
engraved from it. Perhaps you would have the kindness to renew the
sketch for me on a smaller scale, as I am unwilling to extract the
leaf made valuable by you from the book. The stone should not be
larger than this, which, I fear, makes my request hardly possible.
"Most sincerely yours,
"DEVONSHIRE."
[Illustration]
The reduced scale proved no obstacle, and the success was gracefully
acknowledged as follows:
"London, April 14, 1852.
"DEAR SIR,
"In these critical days of the Crystal Palace, let me request your
acceptance of the seal for which you gave me the idea.
"And that you may not have any feeling as to depriving me of it, I
must tell you that I have another.
"Believe me,
"Most sincerely yours,
"DEVONSHIRE."
But what was the subject of the drawing? In a courteous reply to my
inquiry, I find from the present Duke that he has no such drawing in
any of his books, and he knows nothing of the seal. In a postscript to
one of Leech's letters to his friend Adams, however, I find the
following mention of it:
"Look at the seal on this envelope. I told you, I think, some time
ago about my making a little sketch for the Duke of Devonshire, and
how kind he was about it, saying he must have a seal made of it.
Well, he called here himself, and left me a most handsome and
valuable seal the other day, of which, I confess, I am proud to
send you an impression. As you say of some of your people, 'It's
very nice to be treated so, isn't it?' The design of the seal is a
spade turning up the Crystal Palace, in allusion to Paxton being a
gardener.
"Ever yours, my dear Charley,
"JOHN LEECH.
"31, Notting Hill Terrace,
"April 20, 1852."
Though the present Duke of Devonshire knows nothing of the seal, or the
drawing from which it was made, I am happy to say that I am able to
present to my readers an impression from it, through the kindness of
Leech's son-in-law, Mr. Gillett, to whom I applied in my perplexity.
Everybody may not know that Sir Joseph Paxton, the Duke of Devonshire's
gardener, was the architect of the glass house of 1851, afterwards
christened the Crystal Palace, which--greatly enlarged--now flourishes
at Sydenham. I conclude this chapter with an extract from _Notes and
Queries_, evidently written by a friend of Leech. The writer, under date
November, 1864, says:
"Leech's success was owing to his almost daily practice of jotting
in his note-book every remarkable physiognomy or incident that
struck him in his rambles. Such, at any rate, was his practice at
the commencement of his too brief career. On one occasion he and I
were riding to town together in an omnibus, when an elderly
gentleman in a very peculiar dress, and with very marked features,
stepped into the vehicle, and sat down immediately in front of us.
We were the only inside passengers. For whom or for what he took,
or probably mistook, us, I know not; but he stared so hard, and
made such wry faces at us, that I could hardly refrain from
laughter. My discomfiture was almost completed when Leech suddenly
exclaimed, 'By the way, did Prendergast ever show you that
extraordinary account that has been recently forwarded to him?'
and, showing me his note-book, added, 'Just run your eye up that
column, and tell me what you can make of it.' Instead of a column,
the features of the old gentleman were reflected upon the page with
life-like fidelity. On another occasion I saw him strike off with
promptitude and skill the scene of a quarrel between some dirty
little urchins in a suburban village."
_Note._--To my great regret, I find that the material in which Mr.
Bentley's drawing was executed made its reproduction impossible.