MILLAIS AND LEECH.
The way to a certain place is said to be paved with good intentions. If
that be so, a large space in the pavement must be filled by intentions
to write the life of Leech. In the Dean of Rochester--the intimate
friend of the artist when known as the Rev. Reynolds Hole--the intention
still exists, as I gather from a letter received from him in reply to my
appeal for assistance. The Dean tells me he possesses "above a hundred
letters" by Leech--one and all denied to me--barred by the "intention,"
which seems to have come to life again, after being resigned by him many
years ago in favour of Dr. John Brown; who in his turn relegated his
intention to its place in the pavement.
I think it was about the year 1882 that, when calling on my old friend
Sir John Millais, I was introduced to a Mr. Evans, who was presented to
me as a literary man engaged in writing the life of Leech--a stranger to
Millais in quest of information. Though I felt that Millais, in the
genial and hearty way peculiar to him, over-estimated the importance of
my assistance in his advice to Mr. Evans to tax my memory, "and he would
find the tax paid in full," I promised to try to remember something of
interest, and communicate with him further. The result of the "taxation"
was a paper, which I sent to the address given to me at Manchester.
Years passed, and as I heard nothing I concluded that the Evans life was
abandoned, and thought no more of the matter. Alas! events proved that
the Evans intention was destined to take its place amongst the others,
for the promoter died; but not till he had collected a quantity of
material, to which I have been greatly indebted in writing this memoir.
After my interview with Mr. Evans at Millais', I never saw or heard from
him, except in acknowledgment of my contribution; and it is strange to
me, that with every requisite for the carrying out of the intention,
into which, judging from his manner, he entered enthusiastically and
lovingly, he should have made such little way with it--probably from
ill-health--when the material fell into the hands of Messrs. Bentley,
and from theirs into mine.
Amongst the papers I found the following from Sir John Millais, of all
the friends of Leech one of the dearest, the most loving and steadfast,
and the best able to appreciate his qualities as an artist and a man. In
a letter to Mr. Evans--February, 1882--Millais says:
"I knew John Leech intimately, and I think saw more of him than any
other of his friends. He was one of the very best gentlemen I ever knew,
with an astounding appreciation of everything sad or humorous. He was
both manly and gentle, nervous and brave, and the most delightful
companion that ever lived. I loved John Leech (and another who is also
gone) better than any other friends I have known."
In a further communication, Sir John says:
"I will endeavour to find some letters which may be of interest.
Unfortunately, I have given most of them away at the time I received
them, many containing sketches; I cannot remember now where they are. I
am sure I had more than anyone, as I was for years his daily companion.
There is another friend of his--Percival Leigh, attached to
_Punch_--whom you do not mention. You should see him, as he could give
you a great deal of information. Mr. Adams was a hunting friend, and
many times Leech and myself stayed with him. Mr. Parry was the master of
the Puckeridge hounds, and most of the hunting sketches were the upshot
of scenes in Hertfordshire.
"Leech stayed with me twice in Scotland, and out of those visits came
Mr. Briggs's exploits in deer-stalking, salmon-fishing, and
grouse-shooting.
"The late Duke of Athole asked him to Blair, and took him for a
deer-drive. Previously to that there had been a good deal written in the
papers against the Duke, in consequence of his Grace having stopped two
University men from crossing the forest; and Leech made a drawing in
_Punch_ by no means complimentary of the Duke, who was represented
turning back the tourists, exclaiming, 'I am the regular Do-Dhu.' But
you must turn to _Punch_, and you will find the illustration for
yourself. I speak from memory as to the exact words; but I well
recollect Leech, in his jocose way, asking me whether I thought he would
be safe in the Duke's hands after that squib. I afterwards heard his
Grace was delighted with it, and carried the woodcut about in his pocket
to show to his friends.
"I have seen Leech make his first sketch (of which I have specimens),
and trace them on to the block, scores of times. The first was rapid;
but on the wood he was very deliberate, knowing how necessary clearness
of execution is to the engraver.
"The late Mr. Trelawney--the intimate friend of Byron and
Shelley--speaking one day to me of his recollections, said that Shelley
and Leech were the two men he had loved best, and that he cared to know
me only because I was a great friend of the man he admired so much."
Here I may interpose to remind my readers that the figure of the sailor
in Millais' superb picture of the North-West Passage was painted from
Trelawney, who is supposed to say, "It should be done, and England must
do it." The man's head, painted with all Millais' power, is a most
perfect likeness of Shelley's friend.
Millais goes on to tell us that "some of the happiest days we spent
together were at the Peacock Inn at Baslow, in Derbyshire, close to
Chatsworth, where every kindness was shown to Leech by the Duke and Sir
Joseph Paxton--shooting, fishing, and cricketing."
I again interpose to say that the portrait given as frontispiece to
this volume was drawn on one of the "happy days" at the Peacock Inn at
Baslow.
"We played together in a match with a neighbouring village, and at a
supper which he gave to the teams he sang 'King Death' with becoming
gravity, and was much entertained by the local amorous ditties sung by
the young farmers."
In further advice to Mr. Evans, Sir John says:
"You cannot dwell too much on his tender anxiety for his wife and
children, almost distressing at times to those about him."
The great painter continues:
"I should tell you that he was always careful in his dress, and always
went to the best houses for everything he purchased, probably from
having early in life discovered the wisdom of such a course--see his
satire of everything shoddy--but chiefly from inherent good taste. His
choice was so quiet that one only _felt_ he was perfectly attired. Leech
was six feet high, slim, well but rather delicately made. Strangers felt
when they were introduced to him that they were in the presence of a
gentleman grave and courteous always, and a merry fellow when harmless
fun was demanded. Like Landseer, he had the power of telling a story in
the fewest words, and with astonishing effect upon his hearers; but as
a rule he was averse to taking the initiative in conversation. He would
sit placidly smoking his cigar in an easy-chair, and only chime in to
cap what was said by some voluble speaker, and then retire again into
the full enjoyment of his weed and silence."
In his evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons which was
formed to inquire into the constitution and working of the Royal
Academy, with a view to certain changes in that body, Millais said that
he thought Leech was deserving of full membership in the institution,
for, indeed, said he:
"Very few of us painters will leave behind us such good and valuable
work as he has left--work which is in great part historical. His
appreciation of the pathetic was as strong as his sense of the
ridiculous, and you will never find a bit of false sentiment in anything
he did."
Landseer is reported to have said--after expressing enthusiastic
admiration of Leech's genius--that the worst thing he ever did deserved
to be framed and placed before students as an example for their
emulation and improvement. Sir John Millais concludes his remarks upon
his friend--remarks for which I am sure my readers will be as grateful
as I am--by a few pathetic words heralding the sad and final scene:
"He became so nervous latterly that he used to take my arm when we were
walking together, jerking it perceptibly at any sudden noise, or at any
vehicle passing rapidly near us; lingering an unnecessary time at the
street crossings; and the morning he came from Thackeray's house, on
coming downstairs after seeing his dead friend, he said, 'I also shall
die suddenly.'
"I arrived from a Continental tour," concludes Millais, "the day of his
death, and by arrangement went immediately to his house to dine with
him. His wife told me he had been asking for me; but I did not think it
wise to disturb him then. A little later I returned, ran upstairs to his
bedside, and found him dead."