[Illustration]
The first sight I obtained of Mr. Cooper was of considerable
interest. He lives in a beautiful spot, about a mile and a half from
Canterbury--at Vernon Holme, Harbledown; and as I entered the gate
I caught sight of Mr. Cooper before his easel in his studio, taking
advantage of the light of a glorious winter's day, and working away at
a canvas which I subsequently learnt was intended, with another, to
form his contribution to this year's exhibition at the Royal Academy.
I stood for a moment quietly and respectfully looking on before
ringing the bell at the front door. The canvas presented a landscape,
and the cattle were just outlined in with pencil. The painter was
working without the aid of glasses, and this for a man who is in his
ninety-first year may certainly be said to be highly respectable.
Somewhat below the medium height, with marvellously penetrating eyes,
scarcely the sign of the stoop of old age, a hand as steady as in '35,
when he was just beginning to make a name, and silvery white hair about
his head--it was an impressive picture. T. Sidney Cooper's brilliant
work of the past and to-day calls for all recognition of his gifts, but
it is only when one catches sight of him as I did--snow, nothing but
snow, everywhere outside, and the painter, now in the winter of life,
clinging with all the old love to his sheep and cattle--it is only then
that one realizes the great respect due to the Grand Old Academician.
[Illustration: VERNON HOLME--FROM THE POND. _From a Photo. by Elliott &
Fry._]
So I shook my snow-covered boots outside and entered the hall of Vernon
Holme. The artist left his easel. It was a hearty welcome to Vernon
Holme. There was no mistaking the man. He was living there a quiet,
happy, contented, and work-a-day life; rising at half-past seven every
morning in the winter, and in the summer months at seven o'clock.
Before breakfast the palettes are set and the paints made ready. He
will work steadily up to dusk. His recreation is his Bible, and twice
a day, after lunch and dinner, a chapter is read aloud. His voice is
clear, and he reads every word, and suggests its meaning. I heard
Sidney Cooper read. His birthdays are _thinking_ days--_thankful_ days
too, it would seem. The lines he wrote on September 26th, 1889, reveal
much. He calls them "Musings on My Eighty-sixth Birthday," and they
run:--
Another birthday dawns--the eighty-sixth,
How little take we note of fleeting time!
Since last this day of joyful glee was here
What blessings have been mine; alas! how oft
Have unrequited been! The cares of life
Engross my thoughts when holy things my heart
Should fill. Thou who hast made my way of life
So full of mercies, be Thou still my help.
When o'er this day of life the night shall fall,
And called my feet to pass thro' ways unknown,
Be near me still; be Thou my strength; and when
The walls decay leave not the tenant lone,
But by Thy Spirit comfort and uphold;
I have but Thee, I have no claim of Gate
Of Pearl, or Street of Glittering Gold, but thro'
Thy boundless grace, my good and bad are both
Forgiven. In humble fitting place among
The many mansions, where there is no sin,
And by Thy Crystal River flowing on
Through Heaven's green expanse, I'll learn the new
And holy song of Worthy is the Lamb,
And 'neath the Healing Tree shall find that life
Wished for so long!!!
Then he loves to take you about his house, for it is a very beautiful
home, and the man who owns it enjoys its comforts the more, for he will
honestly tell you that it meant working for.
"I don't do anything without authority," he told me; "I have authority
for everything I paint. If I want a sky for any particular picture, I
do it from my house. I have windows from all four sides, so that I can
see always. Then in the summer I can sit on the lawn and paint. There
are some of my sheep--my 'models'!"
We were standing in the recess of the dining-room. Before us were the
fields covered with snow, and some sheep were labouring hard to find
a stray tuft of grass here and there. Ever since the artist built the
house--forty-five years ago--he has kept sheep here and painted them
every year. These finely coated creatures before us now are admirable
representatives of some ninety ewes and a similar number of lambs.
Of bullocks, the great cattle painter has few, though he invariably
fattens up three or four every autumn.
Some hours later we again stood in this corner and watched the setting
sun. A great cloud edged with gold hung over a black patch of trees.
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Cooper, enthusiastically, "it was in that very
wood that I first began to study trees. There were some fine old trees
there--too far gone to cut for timber. A farm stood on the opposite
side of the hill, which I have put in three of my pictures. How well I
remember seeing the chains and the gibbet in the road which skirts the
wood there--used for hanging Charles Storey, who committed murder the
year after I was born."
It is not necessary to say that the interior of Vernon Holme is
in every way worthy of its owner. The land on which it stands was
originally a hop ground, and Mr. Cooper tells with great gusto that
whilst the people were picking the hops his men were getting the ground
ready for the foundation of the house. The house was built from Mr.
Cooper's own designs. The hall, of solid oak, is very fine and massive,
and the carving about the ceiling and staircases exquisite. The bosses
on the ceiling were cut from Nature's models of hops and wild flowers.
The antlers over the doors were a present from Sir Edwin Landseer,
and are reminiscences of deer shot by him in Scotland. The engravings
comprise proofs after Sir Edwin and Tom Landseer, and Leslie's
"Coronation of Queen Victoria."
"There is a little story," said Mr. Cooper, "as to how I came into
possession of that engraving--a very rare one--of Tom Landseer's. I
painted a little picture for him, and Tom liked it. So it was agreed
that I should have some of his proofs in exchange for it. He was very
deaf, and he wrote on a piece of paper: 'There's my portfolio; choose
one, and I'll sign it.' I did so.
"'Why,' he exclaimed, 'you have chosen the one I put aside for myself.'
"I had selected the 'Deer and Dog in the Snow.'"
[Illustration: THE ENTRANCE HALL.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
Only three pictures by Mr. Cooper hang in the hall proper. These
are over the mantelpiece. One of these is peculiarly interesting--a
group of three sheep, a calf, and a cow, painted three years ago. The
work was the result of a dream. The Royal Academician dreamt he was
painting this very scene. In the morning he got up and chronicled it
on canvas. Ascending the grand old staircase, a huge space is taken up
by "Separated, but not Divorced," painted in 1875, and is a study of a
magnificent short-horn bull, "Charlie" by name. It was exhibited, but
proved too big to sell. Just by the bull's foreleg is a raven pecking
at a bone. The artist was asked why he put it there.
"Oh!" he replied, "I wanted a little bit of relieving black and white.
Besides, if there is a Crown case over it, it will typify the lawyers
picking at the bones."
But "Charlie" is interesting for other reasons. It represents a
triumph of art. Mrs. Cooper did not like the bull's head, and said
so. Mr. Cooper made up his mind to paint in another head. It took a
long time--many and many were the attempts to put a new head on old
shoulders, and the one now in the picture took as long to paint as
all the rest of the picture. It is a remarkably real and brilliant
effort. The other large picture by Mr. Cooper is "Isaac's Substitute,"
painted in 1880--a Scotch ram the only object in the picture being
Isaac's substitute. It was suggested one day after reading the words
from Genesis xxii. 13: "And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and
behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns." Close by are
some sheep painted on the 26th September, 1874, on the occasion of the
artist's seventy-first birthday. It was completed in five hours, and
here it should be mentioned that for the last twenty years Mr. Cooper
has always painted a finished canvas on his birthday--pictures which
are never sold.
[Illustration: SIDNEY COOPER, AGE 38.
_From a Painting by Scott._]
A peep into Mrs. Cooper's room revealed something that says much for
the continued determination of purpose which has always characterized
the great painter's life, and his extraordinary and persistent powers
of endurance under great suffering. I had noted some excellent copies
of his father's works by Mr. Neville Cooper, and a portrait of the
Royal Academician himself, painted by Scott in 1841. Also an old
donkey, done in 1835, belonging to Mrs. Cooper--Mr. Cooper has been
twice married--seeing that it was painted in the year in which she
was born. Two water colour drawings were then shown to me. They were
artistic reminiscences of his severe illness last year. Beneath a
group of cows were written these words: "Painted in bed, November,
1893, for my dear wife for her nursing.--T.S.C., R.A." The other was
some sheep in the snow--reproduced in these pages--and inscribed: "To
Neville. Painted in bed, with bronchitis, November, 1893.--T.S.C.,
R.A." Such efforts as these betoken much. It is a significant fact
that Sidney Cooper was the last country patient the late Sir Andrew
Clark ever visited, for he was struck down four days afterwards. The
great physician's words on saying "Good-bye" to Mrs. Cooper were: "I
never met a man at eighty with more vitality in him than your husband,
and he is ninety!" and he added, upon being thanked for his prompt
attendance: "I look upon this as being one of the events of my life."
[Illustration: PICTURE PAINTED DURING LAST ILLNESS.]
[Illustration: THE DINING-ROOM.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
The dining-room is perhaps the finest room in the house--being 35ft.
long and 35ft. high. Its carved oak arched ceiling is superb--and the
carved fireplace, round which ivy is trailing, is also a fine sample of
this particular art. It was in this apartment that I had the privilege
of going through portfolio after portfolio of the daintiest of pencil
studies--little artistic efforts which seemed to have life and breath
of their own. There are many personal works here--at one end of the
room hangs "Scotch Mountains and Sheep," the opposite side being
occupied by the largest picture the artist has ever painted--the canvas
measures 11ft, by 7ft.--"Pushing Off for Tilbury Fort, on the Thames,"
painted in 1883, and exhibited in the Academy of the following year.
As we stood before this beautiful work--a scene of perfect calmness in
the meadows, with a group of cattle lazily lying in the foreground,
and a boat full of soldiers being rowed towards the guard-ship,
_Ramilies_, in the distance--Mr. Cooper said:
"I saw that very scene on my fortieth birthday, when seeing a friend
off from Tilbury. Its beauty impressed me in a way few such scenes
have done, and I said within myself, 'Should I ever reach my eightieth
birthday, I will paint that.' And I did. I started it on September 26,
1883, and it took me exactly forty-nine days to paint."
[Illustration: THE DINING-ROOM.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
There is much of interest in the drawing-room, with its fine statues by
P. MacDowell, R.A., its family portraits intermingled with great bowls
of winter blossoms and grasses gathered from the adjoining fields, its
many artistic treasures--not omitting the tiny canvas which the artist
painted at the age of seventy.
"I painted it," he said, very quietly, "because I thought I had got to
the end!"
[Illustration: THE DRAWING-ROOM.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
But we only spend a moment or so there, for Mr. Cooper is leading the
way to the studio. We cross the great hall, through the library, whose
walls are completely hidden by sketches of, surely, every animal that
ever enjoyed the green fare provided by the meadows of Britain--the
artist opens the door and bids me enter. It is a remarkable studio--and
I should say stands alone and distinct amongst those pertaining to
Royal Academicians. There are a few studies hanging on the woodwork
which surrounds the window--there are the two diplomas, one of which,
dated November 3rd, 1845, made its possessor an Associate of the Royal
Academy, and the other a Royal Academician on March 23rd, 1867--but
otherwise the blue walls are bare, perfectly bare. There may be a
reason for this--a very simple one; an honest recollection of the days
that have been is not to be forgotten in the comforts and successes of
the days that are now! When I left Mr. Cooper, and after I learnt what
I did, I could only put these bare walls in the studio at Vernon Holme
down to such thoughts as these.
[Illustration: THE LIBRARY.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
He told me that the easels and palettes are all old friends--the
Academy box on the floor is chipped and cut about, and goes back to the
forties. It is not worth a shilling; but a big cheque wouldn't buy it.
Packed against the walls near the floor are scores of canvases, studies
innumerable, old time and present-time first artistic "thoughts."
"Nancy Macintosh" is particularly interesting, because it is one of the
artist's figure studies of the time when his work was just becoming to
be recognised--1836. Nancy was painted in Cumberland under Cross Fell,
and is a good type of the women who used to go up and milk the cows for
the drovers, who--it is much to be regretted--used to exchange their
employers' milk for nips of whisky! The Academy pictures are even now
well forward. I was just looking at one of these--a bridge scene, and a
subject the artist assured me he had long been wanting to paint--when I
turned towards Mr. Cooper again and found him in the act of lifting a
large canvas on to the easel. He would not allow me to assist him.
[Illustration: THE STUDIO.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
"That," he said, after it had been securely placed on the easel, "is
to be the picture of my life! The subject is 'The High Hills, or the
Refuge for the Wild Goats,' from the 104th Psalm. It is not finished
yet. The notion occurred to me when last in Switzerland. I had to go
up the mountain some four hours' journey before I reached the spot from
which the idea is partly composed. We went as high as the goats would
go in order to get the moss, heather, and different grasses on which
they feed. As far as the goats are concerned, I obtained the principal
ones when in North Wales."
[Illustration: NANCY MACINTOSH.
_From an early Drawing by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
A flood of renewed light came in at the studio window--for the
afternoon was still young--and Mr. Cooper stood for a moment by the
side of the picture and was thus photographed. The light lit up the
canvas--so I left Mr. Cooper at work, and spent the afternoon in
wandering about the Brotherhood Farm, where some of his sheep and cows
are to be found. It is a farm possessing a distinct interest, for on a
grassy slope by the side of one of its meadows is situated the well of
the Black Prince--a well roofed in by modern brick, over which the ivy
is growing, a sublimely picturesque corner, where the first bearer of
the motto "Ich Dien" was wont to come and bathe his eyes.
"Why, sir," said the old Sub-Prior with pardonable pride when showing
me the well, "people send from all over the world for that water, and
the last gentleman that had it was Mr. Sidney Cooper, the painter."
Mr. Cooper told me that he obtained the water for a young lady in his
family.
It was nearing dusk when I returned to Vernon Holme, and once again I
saw the great artist through the window of his studio, packing up his
things and taking a last look for the day at his work on the easel. We
met in the hall.
Then I learnt something of his eventful life. He looked back on his
career very quietly--never striving to make "points," never yearning
for effect, though every incident was in reality a picture in itself.
Imagine the little fellow--deserted by his father at the age of
five--with the tiniest of prospects before him of ever cultivating the
gift which was born with him when he first opened his eyes in a little
room in St. Peter's Street, Canterbury, on September 26th, 1803.
The mother was left with five young children--at the time of the long
war--terrible days for them. But the mother worked hard, and her
youngest boy never forgot it, as will be seen later. He was christened
Thomas, and the name of Sidney was added some time after--in this
wise: The little fellow's great-uncle was in the Navy, and had been
at Acre with Sir Sidney Smith, who had a great love for Kent and its
surroundings.
"Any news from Kent?" asked Sir Sidney of his great-uncle one day.
"No, Admiral. Only Cooper's got another boy."
"Indeed; then let him take my name!"
So "Sidney" was set down in the church registry.
"They never would call me 'Sidney,'" said Mr. Cooper, as he remembered
this; "but when I commenced to draw on my slate, at the age of eight,
I always used to put 'T.S.C.' in the corner. The very first drawing
I ever did was with a slate pencil, of the Bell Tower of Canterbury
Cathedral, and one of my schoolfellows used to encourage me by doing my
sums for me, if I would draw him a house with a bird on the chimney.
"I was always in the fields--my heart was in the green valleys and
meadows. I loved to sit by the streams, and on my Wednesday and
Saturday half-holidays from school I would seek out some nook and draw
horses and dogs and sheep on my slate. I had no paper and pencil. It
was not until I was twelve or thirteen that my career really commenced.
Then I started to paint coaches for Mr. Burgess, of Canterbury, at 12s.
a week. Every moment I could spare I was trying to improve myself in
drawing but even then I still had to cling to my slate and pencil. But,
I got some lead pencils at last. Let me tell you the story, and its
sequel.
[Illustration: BLACK PRINCE'S WELL.
_From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
"I was sketching the central tower of the Cathedral. A gentleman was
also drawing another part of the sacred edifice. We met often, without
speaking. One day he came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I
told him. He laughed merrily at the idea of thus working on a slate,
and some two or three days afterwards he made me a present of his
bundle of pencils and paper. I could scarcely contain myself. He patted
me on the head and went his way. But, I had no knife! One day I saw
a gentleman near the Cathedral--a very solemn-looking gentleman in
clerical attire. I went up to him.
"'Please sir,' I said, 'have you a knife?'
"'Yes, my lad--what do you want it for?'
"I told him. And he sharpened all my pencils for me--every one of the
dozen. Who was he? The Archbishop of Canterbury!"
Young Cooper was destined to discover who it was that gave him his
first pencils. A pleasant little party was assembled in London--Mr.
Cooper was now well known--and amongst those gathered at the board
were Stanfield, Tom Landseer, and George Cattermole. They were telling
little stories of the early days, and the cattle painter related the
incident of the slate and pencils.
Cattermole jumped up.
"Why, Sidney," he cried, "are you the slate? _I am the pencils!_"
"Then," continued Mr. Cooper, "came my work at the theatre. It was one
evening and I was sketching--when I heard a cough behind me. I turned
and saw a man looking over me.
"'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'you draw well, my boy. You have a good eye--but
you must learn perspective.'
"'What is that, sir? I have never heard of it before.'
"'Well,' he replied, 'it shows the proper size of objects at a
distance--how to draw a street, a road, a distant hill or tree, etc. If
you like to call on me, I'll show you.'
"'Where do you live, please, sir?' I asked.
"'In Canterbury--at the theatre!' he answered.
"'Oh! my mother wouldn't let me go to the theatre!' I assured him.
[Illustration: GATEWAY--ST. AUGUSTINE'S MONASTERY.
_From an early Drawing by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
[Illustration: HIGH STREET, CANTERBURY.
_From an early Drawing by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
[Illustration: ROTTERDAM.
_From an early Drawing by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
[Illustration: TUNFORD FARM.
_From the Painting by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
"However, I went. I vividly remember it. When I entered, there was
the canvas laid down on the stage for a Roman scene. The actors were
rehearsing on the space in front. So Mr. Doyle--for that was the man's
name--instructed me in perspective, and I learnt the artistic value of
things that I had long seen in Nature. The theatrical company left--it
used to go a sort of circuit to Canterbury, Faversham, Hastings,
and Maidstone, and when they came again next year I helped him once
more. I still continued coach-painting--Mr. Burgess employing me
to do the rough work--rubbing down the carriages, lying on my back
underneath--grinding colours, etc. When I was sixteen the company
returned. Poor Doyle died, and I was engaged as scene painter at a
guinea a week. So I went with them to Faversham. I well remember my
only appearance as an actor. The piece to be played was 'Macbeth,' and
the scenery used was some I had painted for 'Rob Roy.' The manager
told me I must play the part of the bleeding Captain, and I wore a
Scotch dress--intended for _Norval_--which Mr. Smollet, an actor, had
given to me for painting some imitation lace on a dark dress he had.
Well, I simply broke down, and was positively conducted off the stage.
Buckstone played _Ross_ in this production. It was the first time I
ever met him. He was a dapper little fellow--very lively and brimming
over with fun. We remained bosom friends to the day of his death. When
he got prosperous and had married a second wife, every other Sunday I
used to go and dine with him. He was just then beginning to get very
deaf.
"One night I said to him: 'Buck, I want a private box.'
"'All right, Sidney, whenever you like.'
"'Next Tuesday, eh?'
"'All right, my boy--next Tuesday.'
"After dinner we were chatting, and I said: 'Well, I've got my
sketch-book with me, and in return for the box I'll draw your wife's
portrait and the baby. It won't take a quarter of an hour.' So they
sat. I drew a sheep and a lamb suckling."
[Illustration: THE FLOCK MASTER'S HOPE.
_From the Painting by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
Mr. Cooper's first work of importance was founded on his first love.
The Cathedral and its precincts was one of the dearest spots on earth
to him, and he did some excellent drawings on stone of the Cathedral
and Canterbury in general. The gateway of St. Augustine's Monastery and
High Street, Canterbury, showing the coach waiting outside the "George
and Dragon," are good examples of these--particularly the latter, as
it tends to show something of what the Cathedral city was like when
Mr. Cooper was unconsciously stepping to fame with the aid of a school
slate and pencil. At last he got to London and gained a studentship
at the Royal Academy, then held at Somerset House. It filled his
heart with hope--he realized all his longings; but his uncle, who had
promised to support him while working away at the Academy, suddenly
threw him over, and young Cooper was forced to go back to Canterbury,
and was obliged to paint coaches once more and give lessons in drawing.
It was an important step when he, together with his friend William
Burgess, decided to try the Continent. The young artist was now
twenty-four years of age. He positively painted his way from Calais to
Brussels by doing likenesses of the proprietors of small hostelries,
together with their families, in return for his board and lodging.
[Illustration: A BROOK IN THE MEADOWS.
_From the Painting by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
"I got on very well in Brussels," said Mr. Cooper, "giving lessons
there, and began to make money--indeed, I must have made some five or
six thousand francs a year after I had been settled there some time.
It was at Brussels I met Verböckhoven, the great animal painter, whose
drawings of animals were absolutely faultless. At that time I was
confining myself to old buildings, Gothic architecture, picturesque
bridges, etc., and putting them on the stone. One day Verböckhoven was
looking at some of my pencil drawings and said:--
"'You could paint cattle.'
"I assured him I could not.
"'Oh, yes,' he said; 'here is a palette--try.'
"Some of his studies were tacked on the wall, and I began to paint a
black spotted cow. Just at that moment a Miss Searle, one of my pupils,
came in accompanied by her father, and Mr. Searle said to me:--
"'What! are you taking lessons?'
"'No,' I answered; 'Monsieur Verböckhoven thinks I can paint, so I am
copying that cow.'
"'I wouldn't try another,' said Verböckhoven, looking over, 'if
they think you are taking lessons I shall lose all my pupils! Never
mind--let it go--go in and win, Cooper!'
"Then came the terrible revolution of 1830. I was forced to return
to England, and I did so, in May, 1831, with a wife and child, and
£13 in my pocket. I made my way to London, and, fortunately for me,
Ackerman's, in the Strand, liked a bundle of my drawings and purchased
them at five shillings apiece. Then the struggle commenced. I had taken
a second floor in the Tottenham Court Road, and morning after morning,
with an orange and a couple of Abernethy biscuits in my pocket, I used
to set out for Regent's Park, where there were often from 500 to 1,000
cows in those days, and try and sketch them. My methods were simple. I
always had six or eight sketches going at one time, so that if a cow
moved from one position I could go on with another, and only wait until
I caught my cattle friend in the old position. At night I worked at
home over my pipe, and earned my daily bread by drawing them on stone
for Ackerman."
But success came at last--and through an old fellow student, Caterson
Smith, who eventually became President of the Royal Academy of Dublin.
Mr. Cooper had painted a small canvas, 10in, by 8in., of a cow and
two sheep--he had done it when it was too wet to go to Regent's Park.
Caterson Smith found him out and called on him. He caught sight of this
little group of cattle.
[Illustration: FARM IN EAST KENT.
_From the Painting by T.S. Cooper, R.A._]
"Look here, Cooper," he said, "I should give up architectural stuff and
stick to this. I'll buy this picture. How much?"
"Oh, a few shillings," the young artist replied.
"Two pounds?"
"Done."
So Caterson Smith purchased the Royal Academician's first painting of
cattle.
"Soon after this I began a larger one," said Mr. Cooper. "I had removed
to Windmill Street to a _first floor_. The canvas was a 3ft. one. One
morning I was surprised to have a visitor announced. He came up.
"'Your name is Mr. Cooper?' he said.
"'Yes, sir.'
"'I've seen a little picture of yours, and I was anxious to find you
out.'
"He found me out in a strange way," remarked Mr. Cooper. "It seems that
Caterson Smith had left the picture he had purchased at a frame-maker's
in Greek Street, Soho, and the shopkeeper liking it had put it in his
window. Here my strange visitor had seen it, and not until Smith wrote
for the picture was he able to discover me.
"'What's that you are painting?' asked the stranger, looking at the
3ft. canvas on the easel.
"'Oh! just some cattle coming through a stream, sir.'
"'Very nice'--rubbing his chin and eyeing it critically--'very nice.
How much?'
"'I hardly know.'
"'Well,' he said, 'if you will finish it I will give you £15 for it.'
"I agreed, and when he left he gave me his card, and I saw his name was
Cribb, and that he lived at King Street, Covent Garden.
"I painted another for him. Then the cholera broke out, and my wife,
who was far from well, wanted to go to the seaside for a few days.
Cribb had not paid me for my second picture--I wanted the money, so I
called on him. He sat reading the paper for one hour and a half by the
clock in Covent Garden Market, without speaking.
"I woke him up again with my request to be paid.
"'Look here,' he said, suddenly, 'I don't think young men should have
so much money to run about with!'
"However, he paid me £10 on account."
The estimable Mr. Cribb lost a trifle by his meanness towards the great
painter in embryo. A Mr. Carpenter, a Bond Street dealer, had found
young Cooper out, and gave him a commission to paint a picture for £30.
It was exhibited in 1833, at the Suffolk Street Gallery--and on the
line--a half-length picture of "A Kentish Farm." The Press were most
enthusiastic. "Here's a new man," the critics said, "a new man who will
create a great school." The news sheets were full of praise, and Mr.
Cooper told me how his wife and children made a scrap-book by cutting
out all the laudatory notices in the papers and pasting them in. Young
Cooper went to the private view, and the keeper came up to him and said
that Mr. Vernon wished to be introduced to him. Mr. Vernon--Robert
Vernon! He was one of the great art patrons of the day; the kindest and
most liberal of men towards artists.
So they were introduced. He wanted to buy the "Kentish Farm," but it
was in the hands of a dealer, who was asking a hundred guineas for it;
and Robert Vernon never bought from dealers. However, Mr. Vernon would
call--he had his address from the catalogue. The first two men to shake
hands with Sidney Cooper on his success were Stanfield and Roberts. Mr.
Cooper had now moved to St. John's Wood. A few days passed by, when
three gentlemen called. One was Mr. Vernon; the other Fawcett, the
comedian; and John Maddison Moreton, who has made us cry with laughter
over his "Box and Cox."
"I sold Mr. Vernon," Mr. Cooper said, continuing this delightful
narrative, "a little picture for £15. It was a group of cattle and a
woman with a donkey, the donkey bearing baskets, in one of which sat
a child. That was my own little girl--now the only survivor of three
daughters.
"Fawcett had been examining the sketches in my room. Suddenly he cried
out:--
"'Vernon, Vernon, look at this!' It was a picture I had begun for the
Academy and one I called 'Tunford Farm.'
"Vernon seemed delighted with it.
"'What's the price?' he asked, suddenly, after a good look at it.
"'Well, sir,' I said, 'seeing that it is the same size as that
exhibited at Suffolk Street--£30--I had £30 for that.'
"'Yes,' said Vernon, 'and the dealer asks a hundred for it. I'll give
you a hundred for that on the easel--on condition that you annul the
purchase of this little £15 picture!'
"'Tunford Farm' was exhibited in the Royal Academy of 1834, and it now
hangs in the National Gallery as one of the Vernon collection. That
is sixty years ago, and I have never missed a year since, and hope to
exhibit again this year."
[Illustration: FIRST SKETCH FOR "THE MONARCH OF THE MEADOWS."