\-\A-V V VV\ / ■/ / ///•/// / / / / //v yy// ^ /////////// ^ ' '■//■// / // / /'/■ / / /•/////////./, ■/y V V /./ / //-/■' / /\/ / / // ///////////////////////////// / /*•/ / / '/////// /\AA/\/// / // // // // // .-'//'//////// / / / / / y / / / / / / // r / /././\/'J /'/\/ / // // // // // // // ////// // / . /////// /\/\/'./\/\/ ./.././ /////////////////// ^ / / /////./'// wmm/mmmmimmmMmmmmwmmmii IS ) V [->S h E*3 I T 'i i T X It J 1 J; 1 J; '1 7 T J A; J a- THE WILKIE GALLERY: OP THE LATE SIR DAVID WILKIE, R.A. INCLUDING HIS SPANISH AND ORIENTAL SKETCHES, WITH NOTICES BIOGBAPHICAL AND CEITICAL. GEORGE VIRTUE:— LONDON AND NEW YORK. list nf il)t IflfAts k Wjt %mkk miln^. Portrait of Sir David Wilkie . to/etce J^ignette. The Eaerit on the Wall . . . . I'A(iR 35 Vignette Title, Manse and Cjiurcii of Cults, Tjib Piper .... 37 BlETH-PLACE OP WiLKIE. Sir Walter Scott and his Pamily 38 The Village E-eceuit .... 11 Reading the Will .... 40 The Village Politicians 14 The Errand Boy ..... 41 Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage 10 The Cottage Toilet .... 42 The Blind Piddlee .... 17 The Gentle Shepherd .... 44 The Rent-Day ..... 20 The Paiush Beadle ■ , . . 45 The Card-Players .... 22 Thx Princess Doeia washing the Pilgrim's Feet 51 The Village Festival .... 24 The Poktrait of Mrs. Young 73 The Jew's-harp ..... 20 Distraining for Rent .... 77 The Cut Pinger ..... 26 The Penny Wedding .... 79 The Pedlar ..... 27 The Cluebists ..... 80 The Rat-Hunters ..... 29 Guess my Name - . . . . 81 Blind-Man's Buff .... 31 The Highlander's Return 82 The Letter of Introduction 32 The Piffeeaki . . . . . 83 Duncan Gray ..... 34 The Gipsy Mothi'-r ..... 85 The above list, of Thirtj-three Engravings comprises those ' plates, enumerated below, have separate descriptive text but tlic publisher would recommend the following order. are introduced into the "Biographical Notice." The remaining ;d for each, and may be arranged to suit the taste of the owner ; The New Coat. The Breakfast-Table. The Daughter oe Admieal Walkee. The Beoken China Jae. A TUEKISH COUEIER RELATING THE NeWS OF THE CaPIUEE OF Acre. A Group of Figures entering MjUjuid. A Group of Camels at Smyrna. Chelsea Pensioners reading the Gazette of the Battle OF Watekloo. Three Greek Sisters at Tiierapia. The Gueeilla taking leave of his Confessor. The Senoritta and hee Nurse. The Spanish Lady. A Scene at Toledo. The Wounded Guerilla. The Duke of Wellington writing his Despatches. COLUMEUS AT THE CONYENT OF La RaBIDA. Saturday Night. Guerilla Council op War. The IIooka-badae. The First Ear-ring. An Arab Sueik. The Turkish Letter-Writer. The ■Wardrobe ransacked. Napoleon and the Pope at Foniainebleau. Hebhew Women reading the Scriptuiies. Reading the News. "Wilkie in search of JIurillo. A Persian Prince. Death of Sir Philip Sidney. A Circassian Lady. Mother and Child. Benvenuto Celuni and the Pope. DoETY Baien. The Peep-o'-Day Boy's Cabin, THE WILKIE GALLERY. BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. David Wilkie, the great painter, was the third son of the Rev. David Wilkle, minister of Cults, in Fifeshire, by his third wife, Isabella Lister, daughter of Mr, James Lister, of Pitlessie mill, in the same parish, and elder of the church there. From both parents he appears to have inherited that seriousness, sagacity, and habitual spirit of self-control, which, besides being among the most honourable of the national characteristics, were peculiarly called forth by the circumstances of the Scottish clergy. The father of Wilkie was bred in the school of privation, the descendant of a family long possessed of a humble independence ; but reduced to become tenants of their patrimonial estate of Rathe Byres, (a spot ever dear to the feehngs of the painter,) it was not without difficulty that they could bear even the comparatively trifling expense of an university education in Scotland, necessary for the sacred profession to which they destined him. The slender allowance afforded from their narrow means, was increased by the trifling emoluments of a bursary to which he was honourably promoted, and by giving lessons to others in the studies which he himself long and zealously pursued. Years thus wore away in hopeless penury and the rigorous celibacy which it enforced, ere any prospect appeared of his attaining even the humble distinction and modest independence of a parish clergyman. And thus perhaps he might have continued to the autumn of life, but for the assistance of a kinsman, the Rev. WilUam Wilkie, a man of some poetical celebrity in his day, and Professor of Divinity at St. Andrews, through whose kindly influence some rays of prosperity began to cheer the long-neglected and despondent student ; but although his worth and learning were now brought to the hght, yet it was by slow steps that he emerged from obscurity ; for it was five years longer before he was promoted to the vacant manse of Cults. In about two years from his induction, he married a woman, one of the most beautiful of the land, whose society, he might have fondly hoped, would have repaid him for the long years of youth passed in sordid celibacy ; but this anticipated happiness fled like a dream, for only a few brief months elapsed ere he consigned this beloved partner to the tomb. B THE WILKIE GALLERY. in; The serious duties of a parish minister at once forbid the long indulgence of selfish grief, and minister to its alleviation ; and a sense of the propriety of his station probably induced the bereaved husband to marry, after a proper interval, his cousin, Miss Peggy Wilkie ; but she also was snatched from him in less than two years. The twice stricken widower now well past forty, had no child by either of his deceased wives, and the prospect of passing the lonely evening of life, now fast steaUng on, in brooding over the past by his soUtary hearth, led him a third time to enter into that state which had brought with it his highest happiness and his severest trials. But the storms of affliction had spent their force, and permitted his remaining years to pass away in undisturbed serenity. The third object of his choice was affectionate and prudent, and managed his narrow resources with admirable economy ; and children were born to him, to sustain his dechning years, of which, as before said, the great painter was the third. The little Wilkie, from his earliest years, was remarked to possess the indications of a quiet, concentrated energy of character, and a subdued love of drollery. His words were few, in proportion to his inward mental activity ; and less from the spirit of imitation, which is so powerful a motive in childhood, — for art, or artists, there were none in the neighbourhood, —than from a spontaneous impulse, he delighted in essaying to pourtray the objects that amused his childish fancy. It was a mile of rural road from the paternal manse to the school of Pitlessie ; and here " with sauntering step and slow," he was accustomed to remark the characteristic figures that, unnoticed by any one else, arrayed themselves already in his mind as a succession of pictures, touched upon and heightened by the humorous cast of his perceptions. Enough there was too in that remote inland country nook to furnish matter for the development of his hidden talents. His mind was so preoccupied with the ruhng impulse, that he vf as but a negligent scholar ; and heedless of the tiresome confine- ment and irksome routine of school, he could not withhold himself, even under the eye of the master, from drawing on his slate by stealth the odd variety of physiognomy and expression affoi-ded by his schoolfellows. The very kirk itself, serious as was his education and feeUngs, did not escape matter for humorous observation of character ; and the walls and floors of the schoolroom at the manse were covered with imitative records. When about twelve years old, he began to commit to paper certain of the scenes and groups which had forcibly impressed him, some of which were the germ of his pecuUar style. The love of art "grew with his growth, and strengthened with his strength ;" he was restless unless engaged in his favourite pursuit, and it became evident to all his friends, that whether for good or evil, he had inwardly decided on painting as his profession, and was morally incapable of following to advantage any other path in life, particularly that of the church, to which the wishes of his relatives appear to have originally inchned. Not without good reason, it must be admitted, could the worthy pastor of Cults have felt uneasy, when he perceived this unconquerable bias of his son's mind. In the pursuit m.\ 3S ■iliililii^^ BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 3 of a regular profession he had himself fully experienced the bitterness of hope deferred, ere even a moderate competence could be attained ; yet here uncertainty seemed certain, compared with the chances of an occupation accompanied by so many contingencies, where fame might never be reached, even after a long and arduous course of study, and the rewards that should attend upon it were so often utterly disproportioned to the risk and toil, and even insufficient to procure the means of existence, far less independence to its possessor. Brilliant exceptions there indeed were, but they were not numerous ; and he might well hesitate at allowing his son to engage irrevocably in a career so fraught with peril and uncertainty ; though, on the other hand, he could not fail to perceive that his devotion to art arose from no sudden impulse, but from the bias of Nature, who provides no less the power than the inchnation to follow out her leadings with success. Neither could he have been without confidence and a secret pride in that settled, collected energy of purpose, and that quiet determination to overcome obstacles, which he must have felt that his son inherited from himself ; nor was he uninfluenced by the counsels of his wife, who, with all a mother's tenderness, could not bear to see her son crossed in a pursuit in which his happiness was involved, and in which, with maternal hope and pride, she could not but augur his success. Thus, after much wise and anxious pondering, he came to the determination to overrule his own scruples, and the unwelcome bodings of friends, and to consent to allow his son to follow the bent of his inchnation. It was not in the nature of the Wilkies to swerve from a purpose they had once advisedly formed ; and thus the father of the young aspirant looked round at once for the best practical means of instruction, which his hmited income would allow him to obtain. The famous seats of academical instruction were too distant for the purse, and probably for the feelings of the affectionate parents, who, even during the height of their son's briUiant career in London, appear ever to have been uneasy about his health and comfort, and who might naturally fear the neglect of both, in the absorbing mental excitement and ardent emulation of an opening career, in a scene too remote to enable them to bring succour in ease of need. But Edinburgh was at hand, where an institution, called the Trustees' Academy, — founded, as it would seem, principally for the purpose of improving the taste of mechanics by the study of the models of art, and thus improving the designs of our manufactures, — yet afforded the means of elementary instruction in drawing to all who sought it, with whatever purpose ; and accordingly, in his fourteenth year, the decisive step was taken, and young Wilkie, with his specimens and introductions, quitted the manse of Cults for a lodging in the Scottish metropohs. He first set up his easel at a small lodging in Nicholson-street. The moment was fortunate in which the young student entered the Scottish Academy, not, as it would appear, without a previous rejection, on account of the crude and unartistlike character of his introductory specimens, wholly deficient in mechanical execution, and in which the secretary could hardly be expected to discern the germ of 4 THE WILKIE GALLERY. original excellence, though his scruples were overcome by the influence of an exalted patron, the Earl of Leven, and Wilkie was at length admitted. Hitherto the object of the teaching appears to have been principally Umited and mechanical ; but the appointment of a master imbued with original notions of art turned the scale in favour of a more liberal mode of study : emulation was kindled, much latent talent drawn forth ; and when Wilkie took his place in the ranks of the Academy, he found among its aspirants several young men who have since attained high distinction, and in an honourable and friendly competition with whom his own powers were rapidly developed. The names of Allan and Burnet are scarcely less wide spread than that of the great painter himself ; and this triumvirate would alone, were there no others, reflect high honour on the name of the enthusiastic and talented John Graham, who, single-handed, and in the midst of much warm opposition, converted a mechanical Academy into a nursery of immortal genius. With firm resolve, untiring perseverance, and a resolute confidence in the result of his endeavours, derived from consciousness of the wealth of original materials long stored up, Wilkie commenced his academical career ; and, as the first and most needful step, conscious of his utter deficiency in drawing and anatomical knowledge of the figure, — he apphed himself at once with the utmost diligence to the attainment of this indispensable preparation. He displayed none of the eccentric humour and fitful appUcation of many great men, but kept up the routine of steady apphcation, to such an extent, indeed, that it was to this attribute of dogged perseverance, rather than to the original impulse of genius, that he was accustomed in after-life to attribute the eminence he had attained. His progress was rapid in mastering the elements of art, in proportion to his power of discerning the true character and expression of the casts he was engaged in copying; he sought not merely to execute a smooth and correct, and well-handled resemblance of the antique fragment, whether foot, or hand, or torso, which was placed before him, but to seize and bring out the proper and pervading expression ; nor was it long before the combined efforts of untiring industry and acute perception overcame mere mechanism, and he began to feel the ability to work out with the hand the original conceptions over which he had long brooded. Allan Cunningham has remarked, that it was well for him, perhaps, that he had no picture to lead him from the path of his own originality, and no one of influence enough to overrule or misdirect his studies. Nature had indeed led him by a path of her own, and marked him out for one of her finest interpreters. Endowed with the best characteristics of his native country, he was the more fitted to bring them out and embody them on canvass. The superior intelligence of the Scottish peasantry, their devout spirit, inward enthusiasm, honourable thrift, and acute forecast, " their dry humour, sedate glee," he himself possessed : from childhood he had been accustomed to remark the expression of these qualities, in the unsophisticated varieties of character, which abounded in the remote and primitive region in which he was born and bred ; nothing BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 5 had escaped his silent observation, and he was taught by a fine instinct how strikingly suitable they were for picturesque, no less than moral effect. He knew by heart all the old famihar figures of lowland Ufe — the wandering beggarman, as Scott has finely depicted him ; the broken soldier ; the travelling tinker, or pedlar ; the time-honoured elder of the village ; the barefooted lassie by the burn-side. He could enter into the rich humours of the fairs and local amusements of his people, and well felt, too, their serious habits and customs. These he was qualified to express, in all their native simplicity, without the exaggeration and caricature which might have accompanied the efforts of any but an artist, who was " native and to the manner born ; " and it is to be regretted that he was ever withdrawn by the requirements of patronage from this his cliosen and natural walk in art, or he might have produced, with the same inimitable excellence, a still greater variety of truly national masterpieces. Hitherto Wilkie had seen but few pictures, neither did Edinburgh furnish a large collection. But etchings from the works of Rembrandt and Ostade — masters with whose style and subjects he had a natural and corresponding sympathy — were well pondered, and had no doubt their measure of influence upon the style and arrangement of the pictures he meditated. As yet he had brought to pass nothing beyond desultory sketches. The first impulse to the production of distinct and finished compositions appears to have arisen from the small prizes offered by the ardent Graham, for the best oil-studies from a given subject or poem; and although they did not always happen to be such as were calculated to draw forth the original powers of Wilkie, he was still occasionally successful in gaining the premium. These initiatory efforts accustomed him to the mechanism of painting, and his progress now was become so surprisingly rapid, that his wondering compeers could not fail to perceive that he would ere long astonish the world. With all the encouragement he received, and a consciousness of the anticipations of his friends, the young painter was in no wise puffed up ; neither did he abate a jot of the persevering course of study which he had laid down for himself. He must indeed, even thus early, have felt an inward joy and pride, that the sacrifices which his family were making were not likely to be ultimately fruitless, and that the tender interference of his mother, which probably turned the scale in his behalf, would be repaid by the joy of witnessing his success. The thoughts of Wilkie, when not bent upon the now fast- maturing conceptions which were hereafter to be so finely realised, appears ever to have been at home, at the manse of Cults. The first-fruits of his exertions, a small premium gained at the Academy, was devoted to the purchase of a trifling present for his mother ; and the fine moral nature of the man, and his right training, are seen in this, that the intoxication of success never drew him aside, though at a distance, and amidst the blandishments of the world, from this true home of his affections. In his solitary lodging 6 THE WILKIE GALLERY. in Edinburgh he revolved the sacrifices of his family, the hopes of his parents, and the forebodings of friends : in the midst of temptation, cut off from all but the bare necessaries of his position,— although with a fair and promising dawn of success,— he was yet well aware of the many difficulties he must encounter ere he could attain the goal of fame and competency ; and he had staked his all upon the issue of the course, as well as the feelings and the means of those no less dear to him than himself. He was confident, not rash — less in word than thought ; so imperturbably kindly and good- humoured, among the little freaks and jealousies of his fellow-students, that his gentle nature overcame all opposition, and seated him in the hearts even of his rivals in the pursuit of fame. " When his fellow-students," says Mr. Cunningham, " followed him into his two-pair-of-stairs study in Nicholson-street, they found all in keeping, they said, with his demeanour in the Academy. The Bible and 'The Gentle Shepherd;' a sketch or two on the wall : a table and a few chairs ; with a fiddle, whose strings, when he grew tired with drawing, he touched to a favourite air, were the chief articles. Neither lay-figures covered with silk, nor easels of polished mahogany were there : a few brushes, and a few colours, and a palette made by his own hands, may be added. The fiddle was to him then, and long after, a useful instrument ; its music, he said, not only soothed himself, but put his live models, who sat for his shepherds and husbandmen, into the sort of humour which he desired ; nay, he often pleased so much, that one of them, an old rough mendicant, * Whose wallets before and behind did hang,' to whom he had played a welcome air, refused the pence when offered, and strode down the stair, saying, ' Hout ! put up your pennies, man ! I was e'en as glad of the spring as ye were ! ' He sometimes too, in a land where living models of any other part save the head or hand are difficult to be obtained for either love or money, made himself into his own model, and with a bared foot, a bared ancle, or a bared knee, would sit at the looking- glass till he confessed that he was almost benumbed by exposure. Nor did he desist when a friend knocked : he would say, ' Come in ; ' nor move from his posture, but deliberately explain his object, and continue to draw till he had made the sketch." Even before he had reached his eighteenth year, or quitted the Trustees' Academy, Wilkie had begun to paint portraits, and had dashed out roughly the first bold idea of the subject, afterwards wrought up into the fine composition of " The Village Politicians," and a picture from the finest pastoral poem of his nation, " The Gentle Shepherd " of Allan Ramsay. He returned to his home at Cults, having already reahsed enough to justify his confidence in his own talents, and by his quiet unassuming deportment acquired the respect both of his teacher and fellow-students. Like so many other aspirants of original genius in painting, who have not been so favoured by fortune as to be in a condition to follow out their own wishes, Wilkie, checked BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. ? at the outset by " poverty's insuperable bar," hesitated whether to choose the doubtful path of fame, or turn his attention to the more sure resources of portrait painting. For a while he hovered between the two plans ; but, though he obtained a few sitters, and might reasonably have looked forward to the attainment of a position and affluence like that of Raeburn and Ramsay, could he have exclusively devoted himself to this branch of art ; stiU the strong bias of his mind would make its way, and he was soon led to project works in which he might hope to display his pecuUar talent and win fame, if even at a loss of time and money ; or at least enjoy that inward delight and satisfaction, as the growth of his own creations kindles under his hand, which never fails to indemnify the true worker with nature, for outward privation and the world's neglect. With this view he began to look around the neighbourhood for materials, and, hesitating for a while between the grave or the humorous characteristics of the people, he decided at length on a subject which should embody the latter — the fair at the old familiar village of Pitlessie. Nothing could have been more happily chosen to draw him out. All the varieties of rural life of the country were there. The market-people swarming from the surrounding hamlets filled the picturesque old village street ; quack-doctors, blue-gowned beggarnien, pedlars, and ballad- singers and fiddlers, as they ply their several vocations, mingle their voices in harsh and ludicrous contrasts. The recruiting-serjeant flames in scarlet and gold in the midst ; the roll of his drum predominates over these minor discords, as he seeks to entrap the dazzled or discontented idler ; while the magnates of the village pass among the shifting throng, awake to everything, and slyly rehshing the fun, though maintaining the while an inflexible gravity of demeanour. Such a scene afforded infinite scope for the peculiar talents of the painter. For the first time he was ambitious in the dimensions of his canvass, intending to omit nothing of the humours of the place ; and, after sketching in the general distribution of the groups, he proceeded to select such rustic figures as the neighbourhood furnished for sitters ; and slyly obtained the characteristic traits of those recusants of the higher class, who stood upon their dignity, and declined to sit, by hastily jotting them down as they reclined dozily in the midst of the congregation. This, it must be confessed, was rather too bad for the son of the minister himself; and when the picture was finished, and when these worthies found that they figured in spite of themselves, and probably in a ludicrous light, among the profane vulgar, and the means by which this was effected came to light, as might have been expected, many and grievous were the complaints against the profane temerity of the artist. That he should have ventured on such an expedient shows, indeed, the force of the ruhng passion, for Wilkie, with all his love of humour and drollery, was no less a man of much inward and profound seriousness of mind. No less than one hundred and forty figures were grouped in this curious piece of local portraiture, infinitely varied in character : and though too minute in detail and desultory in general arrangement, it brought out the painter at once, and showed to the world, g THE WILKIE GALLERY. as well as to himself, what he could do, and what might be expected, when this disyjlay of rich exuberance of material should be chastened by taste and animated by a pervading sentiment. Wilkie himself, on seeing it again, after he had painted his finest works, declared that it had more subject and more entertainment in it than any other three pictures he had since produced. Another effect too was wrought by the exhibition of this picture. The domestic circle of Cults, who had been watching the issue of the first experiment at Edinburgh with no small anxiety, were not only relieved of their fears, but gratified with the praises bestowed on their son ; the prophets of evil things were silenced ; and those who had hesitated, in order to watch the result, at length discovered that the silent, reserved, and eccentric lad, had more in him than they had first imagined, and were ready to take the credit of prognosticating a success which they could not fail to perceive was now inevitable. Young Wilkie began to obtain much honour even in his own country, but so little profit withal, that he was driven to paint portraits for bread; and after setting up his easel in the surrounding towns, and exhausting the few sitters of a poor provincial district, whom vanity might tempt to incur so unwonted an expense, he began to perceive, perhaps not reluctantly, that he must seek a wider stage for the display of his talents, where the love of art, and the power to patronise it, existed ; in short, that he must repair to London — great as might be the comparative expense of living, and still greater, in that vast crowd of competitors for fame, the difficulty of making an impression, or even of attracting notice. There too he could alone hope to supply his deficiencies, and improve his style, by a better course of academical drawing, and by the study of the works of the great ancient and modern masters, of which advantages Scotland was comparatively destitute. Accordingly in May, 1805, he took his passage at Leith. "With ail his sober enthusiasm, the young painter must have felt nervous at being com- mitted to the chances of a hard and doubtful struggle for fame, in the heart of that great Babel of strife, clamour, and pretension, where small reputations are soon swept away, or forgotten for others ; and nothing short of surpassing excellence can hope to win lasting attention. The talents which had surprised the little circle of Cults, might here remain unnoticed, till neglect and want might compel the poor student to retrace his steps, disappointed and heart-broken, from the arena where he had hoped to win the high rewards of his profession, back to the narrow circle which had already proved insufficient to provide him even with bread. He might with reason too have been alarmed at the expense of living in London, which, with all the self-denial and frugality of his habits, required, for the maintenance of the mere decencies of his position, double the sum that sufficed for his student life in Edinburgh. His first lodgings were at No. 8, Norton-street, Portland-road. His worldly vantages were but small ; a few pictures, some introductory letters, such as BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICB. 9 could be obtained, but none of tbem to persons of great influence, and a small stock of money, sufficient, with rigid economy, to bear his expenses for a few months, made up the sum. Should this be exhausted ere a fresh supply could be obtained, his position would be truly critical ; and not the least painful part, the necessity of reveahng it to his beloved parents, and of thus exposing the failure of his ardent hopes, and his need of that assistance which he could as little bear to ask as they could refuse out of their poverty to bestow. These contingencies must have been deeply felt by the sensitive mind of Wilkie, though he was accustomed to master and conceal his inward emotions, and in writing home to put the best face he could on his position and prospects ; and with his characteristic energy and perseverance to be " up and doing," with a cool estimate of the difficulties that beset his path, and a firm resolution to overcome them. His first step was to seek out a dealer's, where he could exhibit the pictures he had brought with him, and try their effect upon the public, while he hoped, through the introductions he had brought, to obtain some com- missions for portraits, and thus maintain himself, while he entered upon a rigorous course of academical drawing, and with new light and improved style of execution, carried out some new works by which he might hope to fix the attention of the pubhc. Notwithstanding his anxieties, Wilkie appears to have greatly rehshed the new life he was introduced to in the metropohs ; he liked the comfort, and even the living, upon which he dwells in his letters with gusto, but principally the society and new circle of artists, whose example and success wrought emulation, and inspired ambition, while the treasures of ancient and modern art to which he had access, shewed him in what he had hitherto been deficient, and supphed the best models for study. He lost no time in entering himself a student of the Royal Academy, which he diligently frequented. Here he met with Haydon, then in all the spring-tide ardour of that ambitious and troubled course which had so melancholy a termination. There was a curious contrast between the two men: the Enghsh student, fired with the example of the great masters of high expression, Raphael and Michael Angelo, attempted, with irregular and ill-directed powers, at more than he could accomplish; wrapt up in the unattainable ideal, all else seemed unworthy of attention or praise ; while Wilkie, with an enthusiasm no less, but better regulated, instead of idly grasping at the shadow of past greatness, was sedulously engaged in cultivating his own peculiar talent; and while he increasingly appreciated the great examples of the Italian painters, sought only how he might elevate his own style, without renouncing its distinctive originaUty. As might be expected, many were the contests between two minds so oppositely framed ; yet this did not prevent them from contracting a lasting friendship. Jackson, too, whose portraits are perhaps the finest of our modern school, was also among his contemporary aspirants. The provincial reputation of Wilkie had in some measure preceded him, and all perceived that he would ere long do honour to the Enghsh school ; while his kindly, though reserved manners, and the absence of all jQ THE WILKIB GALLERY. jealousy, rendered him a favourite among all but the more loquacious and envious of his fellow-students. He was introduced to several of the Academicians, of whose works he speaks with admiration, but dweUs particularly on Morland, whose natural and original style had more charms for him than the classical compositions of painters of higher pre- tensions. Time fled rapidly in these new occupations and pleasures, but with it fled too the fast- failing means of Wilkie. As yet, too, he had derived little or no benefit from the introduc- tions he had brought with him : some of the parties were absent, others coldly civil, but none called to see his pictures, or sit for portraits, on which for the present he wholly depended. He had sold one or two small subjects at low prices, but still he could find no remedy for the rapid consumption of his purse. His anxieties must have been cruel at this period, though he speaks, in his letters home, with assumed confidence, that he might not wound the feelings of those who followed his every step with the deepest anxiety. He confesses, however, to another relative, " that he was uncertain how long he might remain in London ; that he could stay no longer than his money lasted, and that he had no opportunity of increasing it by portrait painting, as his time was wholly taken up in study ; therefore it was probable that he would be obliged to return to Scotland by the end of October, and fall to his old trade." In this state of miserable incertitude he remained, watching the occurrence of the smallest opening, with which he never failed to cheer the sympathising circle at Cults. Their love ever followed the absent adventurer ; they appear even less anxious about his success, than fearful of the decline of his health, under the combined infiuence of hard study and intense anxiety. "We are pleased," says his venerable parent, "to hear that you have got a room to your mind in the west end of the city : be careful to attend to your diet, and do not fatigue yourself too much by either walking or work. You have, no doubt, seen much in your art already ; and it is proper that you should be introduced to as many respectable characters as you can. I need not desire you to be careful of your expense." There was, indeed, little occasion to warn the anxious student on this head ; for as at Edinburgh his first earnings were applied to the purchase of a present for his mother, so, here too he appears to have looked forward to a little patronage, in the hope of presenting his sister Helen with a pianoforte, of a better description than could be obtained in Fifeshire. There is no doubt that he practised the most severe economy : he could black his own boots, and make a model, when too poor to purchase one, of his own bared leg or arm ; and yet he confesses afterwards to his father, when prospects began to brighten, and he could venture to speak of his past privations, " that he had become quite inured to the difficulties of living in London, for he had been several tunes reduced within the bounds of the last half-guinea, and had been under the necessity of living upon credit." Conscious of the pain which it would occasion his son to return to Scotland for lack of means, when brighter prospects might be about to dawn upon him, the BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 11 simple, kind-hearted parent, notwithstanding his sense of independence, his own means of assistance being exhausted, says, " As you mention your wish to continue in London during the most part of winter, and have some hope of success in your line, I have had it in my mind for some time of applying to Lord Crawford for the loan of a few ])ounds— fifteen or twenty; — which, if he lends, I would transmit to you, in case you found that such assistance was necessary to continue in London for a certain time." But this the honest pride of the painter, and respectful consideration for his father's position, would not for a long while suffer him to consent to. In fact the clouds which beset his path were beginning to lift a Kttle, and some few rays of encouragement reHeved the heaviest pressure upon the mind of "the pale, thin student," who still kept fighting on, steadily frequenting the Academy, and staving off despondency by confidence in his own genius, and determined industry. The turning-point in his fortunes occurred through the friendly patronage of Stoddart, the eminent pianoforte maker, who having married a Wilkie, welcomed the painter to his house, sat for his portrait, and recommended him to friends, which put a few guineas into his exhausted purse, and enabled him, though not without a little assistance from Cults, to continue his studies and keep himself in the way of further encouragement. But a still more important service rendered him by this worthy man, was an introduction to the Mansfield family. It happened that the picture of "Pitlessie Fair," which the painter had sent for from Scotland to retouch, was at the house of the Stoddarts when the Countess of Mansfield called, who desired that it might be sent home with her, to show some friends, and thus spread the reputation of the painter over a wider and more influential circle. The Earl of Mansfield now sought out the study of Wilkie. " Pitlessie Fair," full of the national characteristics, came home to him at once, and he looked round the walls for some study from which he might obtain a finished picture of similar truthfulness ; and fixing at once on the powerful sketch of "The Village Politicians," he left with the dehghted artist a commission for this subject, in which he felt that he could put forth all his powers to the best advantage, with the certainty of awakening that attention which he desired. The intensity of mind that Wilkie threw into this first great work, was proportioned to the belief he could not have failed to entertain, that a decided success in this picture would open at once the door of the temple of fame, and work a total revolution in his prospects ; happilv, too, he was not labouring, as he was sometimes afterwards compelled to do, on a subject he could not feel, but upon one which he might stamp with his own power. Great was the astonishment and deUght of his fellow-students at his progress ; the feeling of rivalry seemed lost in irrepressible admiration of his native, original excellence, and they spread his fame far and wide among the circle of their brethren and the patrons of art. 12 THE WILKIE GALLERY. Among the latter it " chanced one day that Su- George Beaumont and Lord Mulgrave were praisine the Dutch school ; when Jackson, who was present, said that if they would come with him, he would find them a young Scotsman, who was second to no Dutchman that ever bore a palette on his thumb." " We must go and see this Scottish wonder," said Sir George, and they followed him to Wilkie's abode, where they found " The Village Politicians" all but finished. No introductions could have been so fortunate as these — both gentlemen were as devoted to art, as generous in its patronage. Sir George Beaumont, himself a landscape painter of no mean skill, refined in all his tastes, the friend and ardent admirer of Wordsworth, was well capable of appreciating original excellence of whatever kind, and rejoiced in the opportunity of drawing it forth. He was won also with the native and modest simplicity of the man, equally remote from that vulgarity and servility, on the one hand, and conceited presumption on the other, with which his knowledge of the world of artists must have rendered him unpleasantly familiar ; and from that moment he never ceased to treat him with friendly confidence and delicate generosity to his Hfe's end. His kindly warmth of manner must have cheered the feehngs of the young painter, and the expressions of admiration of his talents by such a judge must have been truly gratifying — substantiated as they were by a commission to paint a picture at a price, which, although small, perhaps, in consideration of the time and study required, was yet far higher than any he had hitherto obtained. It was in good season that this encouragement came to cheer up a little the struggling painter, for he was at this time labouring under the depressing consciousness of debt. He had striven hard to keep the wolf from the door ; but his London expenses were unavoidably heavy, and the prices at which he was exhausting health and spirits were utterly insufficient to procure him bread. Even the more liberal payment for his new commissions would barely cover the expense of their production. With this, and with its wasting influence on his health, his family became acquainted, and their tender- ness was justly alarmed. His father wrote to urge with warmth his return to Scotland. "In the manse," he said, "you will find a home while I am afoot;" and warns him not " to put too much faith in hope, which, rainbow-like, eludes our grasp, and glitters but to deceive our eyes :" urges besides the bad state of his finances, and assures him of encou- ragement for a while in his own neighbourhood, and informs him, as a still more powerful inducement to return, of his own bad health, and that of his beloved mother. Wilkie was every way moved by this paternal appeal, yet how could he return home at the moment when he had sent his picture to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, waiting, with mingled hope and fear, to see what its effect would be upon that pubUc, from whose unbiassed suffrages alone he must expect the meed of fame ? He had not indeed long to wait, like some, the refined merit of whose productions has been more gradually BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. !3 appreciated : crowds besieged liis picture — for it was happily of that class which appeals as powerfully to the sense and feeling of the common observer, as to the judgment of the educated artist or amateur : — the dramatic vigour with which the story is told, and the inimitable character came home to the former, as much as the fine grouping, masterly arrangement of Ught and shade, and breadth of style satisfied the critical requirements of the latter. Wilkie was placed at once first in the public estimation as the painter of life, and every new picture from his hand was looked for as a pubUc feast. The press enthusiastically echoed his praises ; nor were the more sober Academicians unmoved ; and all recognised the fact, that a great and original genius had sprung up to redeem the correct platitudes and classical inanities which so largely prevailed. Some indeed had, or pretended to have, their concern and misgivings lest this style, " pauper" in subject, as they ventured to term it, though not in manner, should spread and become fashionable ; and warned the young painter to beware of the direction of his powers. But all this, as well as the intoxicating applause of the public, Wilkie bore with his usual quiet indifference of manner, abating nothing, though suddenly lifted into fame, of that unassuming and modest deportment which had won the hearts of his fellow-students and aristocratic patrons. But his heart might well have swelled with honourable pride at the attainment of that fame for which he had so long laboured in privation and discouragement, and a glow of sweeter and deeper feeling have thrilled through his attenuated frame, as he thought upon the joy which the news of his success, fast flying on the vrings of pubhc fame and private congratulation, would diffuse through the beloved circle at Cults. Wlien they learned that their long-neglected son was no longer pining in obscurity, but that the talented and wealthy vied in paying him honour, and inviting him to their splendid hospitality, and found that these attentions were even reflected on themselves, they must have felt richly repaid for their sacrifices. Though to have seen him at home at such a moment would have been a cordial to their infirmities, his father now fully concurred in the propriety of his remaining awhile in town, to profit by his new-born reputation. " As to your return to Scotland," he writes, " if attention to your mother and me be your principal motive, that need no longer infliuence you ; we must not interfere between our son and his success, but endure the accidents of life in the best manner we are able." He tells him, too, " that he cannot imagine how great a fervour of admiration the accounts of his picture had produced in his own neighbourhood ; in particular that gentleman for whom he had painted pictures the year before affirms that each of them is worth an hundred guineas." So altered was their estimate. The Wilkie who sought for fame and bread among the towns and straths of Fife, and who was regarded with cloudy brows by the pious of Cults, for presuming to trace their faces as they slumbered in their pews at church, and the Wilkie whom high-bom earls were proud to emplov, and whom 14 THE WILKIE GALLERY. the first-born of the realm courted to come to their country-seats, seemed different persons. He was first spoken of in the North as an ingenious young man ; for the Scotch are slow in saying all they think ; then the mercury of their praise rose a few degrees, and he was a very clever painter of humble subjects ; and, finally, he became, without excelling far his first productions, " our distinguished countryman, and our own immortal Wilkie." The picture of " The Village Politicians," — which at once lifted its painter into public favour ; though it originated in the stormy days of the French Revolution, when the sudden outburst of long pent resistance to the rights of man, and the promulgation of new and sweeping doctrines, carried away in its might the deep-rooted institutions of society, no less than their superficial abuses, and spread its ferment and agitation into the remotest nooks of our own land, — is one which, in its true and human expression, will probably be apphcable enough to all time. The scene is laid in a strange old Scottish clachan, picturesquely combining the attributes of parlour and kitchen, with its array of mutchkins, pint-stoup, gridirons, hams, and salted herrings ; the walls and rafters are dusky with smoke ; and the fight streaming into the centre of the room faUs upon a most marvel- lous group, inimitable at once for its variety, and its unity of expression. The collected senatorial gravity and amusing consciousness of importance diffused over the whole figure of that old man, the Nestor of the village, as he calmly cherishes his chin, and weighs with judicial impartiality, unmoved by the din, the merits of the respective arguments, his jug, grave and weighty as himself, deposited on the floor the while, contrasts finely with the figure of the ardent young ploughman, intoxicated with the new light of liberalism, and who, with an intensity proof against all interruption, is propounding some strange doctrine, which he himself seems scarcely able to comprehend, to the decision of this calm umpire. Aided by the potent stimulus of a mutchkin of mountain- dew, he has apparently reached the very cUmax of his argument, which he is establishing triumphantly, wholly rapt and deaf to the clamorous exceptions of his antagonists, who are unable to edge in a single syllable. One of these, provoked at the utter enormity of the doctrine thus put forth, has sprung to his feet, and with swelling veins, and eyes protruding with all the fury of contradiction, is hurhng at the young enthusiast some tremendous, unanswerable objection ; to which his gourmand comrade, his attention a moment diverted from the cheese, with suspended knife, appears to be directing the attention of their opponent, but in vain — the young enthusiast heeds neither. The sentiment of this central party is greatly heightened by contrast with the vacant apathy of the group of village idlers collected around the fire, and the Ustless Highland drover, with his wild, hungry dog, which, profiting by the abstraction of all around, seems about to make forcible seizure of the oat-cake of a wee frightened bairn, scarce higher than himself; while another keen-eyed tyke is making the most of the golden 9 BIOGKAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 15 opportunity among the flesh-pots in the foreground. Most amusing too is the old man, seated near the window, who, remote from the arena of strife, with spectacles on his nose and mouth half open, is absorbed in puzzling out the sense of some article in the Gazette ; whilst the quiet, sly old dame is emerging from the cellar, well pleased at the thirsty character of the debate, and bringing with her wherewithal to relieve the drought and animate the vigour of the combatants. All these varieties of expression are given with wonderful dramatic force, and proper subordination, untinctured by a particle of exaggeration : every figure too has a striking individuality ; the accessories separately studied from nature, have also the closest national and local truth, and by the management of consummate art, they assist, without overcrowding the composition, or distracting attention from the main expression of the subject. Tlie arrangement of the groups, and distribution of the liglit and shade, are not less inimitable than the other merits of the picture. Fame the painter had thus at length attained, even to his heart's content, but as far as present results were concerned, it was somewhat dearly purchased. The noble patron at whose instance the picture, witli the merits of which the world rung, had been painted, was, it seems, less moved thereby to any injudicious display of generosity, than wisely tenacious of his right to possess it for the sum named by the painter in the day when he could not have foreseen the value it would ultimately reach. This sum was fifteen pounds, at whicli price the Earl of Mansfield now claimed to be proprietor of the picture. Wilkie was at first inclined to demur, having received more tlian one offer of an hundred ; moreover, it was his impression that the Earl had never distinctly closed, even with this modest stipulation ; but on the Earl's declaring on his honour that he had intended to do so, tire point was gracefully conceded by the artist. That it was purely, however, on Wilkie's account that this munificent nobleman had insisted on the fulfilment of the contract, " it being," to use his own words, " his conviction that it would be advantageous to liim to have it in his power to say, that, notwithstanding the success of his picture, and the offers which were made to him, he adhered to his original engagement," he proved to the satisfaction of every one, by generously presenting the painter with no less than thirti/ guineas, instead of the original fifteen. Poor Wilkie ! another such victory would indeed have been his ruin. The painter's position was now totally altered. Men of wealth and taste delighted to honour him ; and we find him not long after the exhibition of his picture a guest at the house of Mr. Whitbread and at Mulgrave Castle. At this time too commences his correspondence with Sir George Beaumont, one which is perhaps unique between painter and patron, both for its critical value to the artist, and also for the expression of that friendly cordiality on the part of Sir George — a man of true nobility of mind — which henceforth knew no interruption, and which was ever responded to by Wilkie, 16 THE WILKIE GALLERY. with feelings of grateful regard.* The criticism of this enlightened patron was of the greatest value to Wilkie at this period, as he himself ever loved to admit, while his gene- rosity too was always steady and considerate : he was well acquainted with the painter's cu-cumstances, and wishes him, yet with every expression of deUcacy, to anticipate the payment for " The Blind Fiddler," should it in the least degree be desirable to him to do so. Wilkie was now advancing rapidly with this picture, and at the same time with another, "Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage," painted for Mr. Davidson, as one of a series to illustrate EngUsh history. This was a subject somewhat out of Wilkie's hue, wholly ideal, and of which the difficulties were great ; for, while confined to the literal truth of the scene, he had to paint up to that heroic and imaginative feeling with which we love to invest the " lights of the world and demigods of fame." At a later period, when his mind had become imbued with the grandeur of Itahan art, he would have treated this subject in a more elevated manner ; as it is, he produced a strikingly picturesque composition, without any extraordinary elevation of style or sentiment. The story is well, if not powerfully told. The rude comfort of tlie Saxon cottage, in the depth of the woodland, like that of an American log-hut, is well imagined and represented. In the centre of the homestead is seated the disguised monarch ; his harp and bagpipe are slung above the door-post ; a dead rabbit is at his foot, with his bugle and bow-case, and he is employed in pohshing a tough bow, to use against his Danish enemies. Absorbed in melancholy reve- ries upon his fallen estate, and meditating his plans for its recovery, he has forgotten the care of the cakes, which are burning on the hearth among the embers of the wood fire, which the neatherd and his dame are just entering the cottage with a load of fagots to replenish. At the sight and smell of the scorched eatables the dame waxes indignant at the carelessness of her guest, and is roundly reproaching him for it ; while the neatherd, (a capital figure,) betrays alarm lest his disguised sovereign, startled from his self-possession by the reproaches of the careful housewife, should betray his disguise, and risk thereby the failure of all his plans. The figure of Alfred is easy, natural, and dignified ; an expression of care and dejection is on his countenance ; but he exhibits no anger at the irritating invectives of his hostess ; as being too magnanimous, or sunk too deep in painful pre- occupation of mind. This is well imagined ; and yet perhaps the whole picture would have gained in dramatic effect had Wilkie represented the king as startled, and on the point of betraying himself, as suggested by Su: George Beaumont. All the accessories are excellent — the girl, who hastily withdraws the burning cakes from the hearth ; and the quiet scene of rustic courtship going on in the background. His next picture will ever be considered one of his happiest ; and, despite the somewhat • For tliis, and VVilkio's general correspondence, wliicli will be perused witJi the greatest interest, the reader should consult the onhj ivoi'k which contains it,— Allan Cunningham's Life of Wilkie, published by Murray. wmimmi BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 17 too cold and metallic colouring of the original, (a defect not observable in the engraving,) will peihaps, with a large class of his admirers, be deemed his very finest work. The discriminating patron for whom it was painted hailed its appearance with delight, as a decided advance even upon "The Village Politicians." We are within the cottage of a shoemaker : it is a cold, raw day ; old and young gather to the peat fire : there are two groups almost painfully contrasted — the family of the honest Crispin, thriving and well to do in the world, in their humble way, well fed and neatly clad ; the other, houseless, homeless wanderers. There is a pathos about that gaunt old fiddler, lank and weatherbeaten ; his face is worn and sad ; his hands wiry and shrunken ; he seems acquainted with hard weather, and harder fare : he has laid down his staff and bundle, drawn forth his fiddle from its case, and is mechanically plying it to some stirring march perhaps, which he accompanies for effect with the beat of his weary foot. His huckster wife, cold and hard featured, seems indifferent to the old-accustomed sound, and anxious only to get food, warmth, and shelter for herself and babe. Not so the inmates of the cottage : they are all alive to the merry strain ; and exquisitely has the painter discriminated the varied effects of the music upon the auditors, from infancy to hoary hairs. The infant pet of the family, seated on the knee of its buxom mother — delighted more with her babe than even with the music, and whose neat shoe displays the triumph of her husband's skill — screams wildly, as the father merrily cracks his thumbs in time ; the child of three years old has stopped his miniature waggon, and listens in unmixed wonder, while the face of his sister, elder by a year, is radiant with open dehght ; the eldest boy, rife with fun and mischief, is imitating the musician with all the glee of his age ; the white- headed grandfather, with his back to the fire, through whose old veins the blood flows in a half-frozen current, seems calmly pleased, but no more ; a servant girl, her spinning suspended, seems carried away by the tune into a world of curious fancies or associations of her own ; the very dog stands suspended and tickled by the lively strain. No wonder that this inimitable production went, even more than " The Village Politicians," to the public heart ; for there is in it a feeling, and a sense of beauty, of which the other picture did not admit : it was, in fact, opening a new and more pathetic and exquisite, though less humorous vein, and showed the marvellous variety, as well as originality, of the painter's powers. The nature is so deep and truthful as to hide the exquisite art ; it seems as though the original conception in the mind had been suddenly breathed upon the canvass, rather than wrought out by the toils of study and thought ; yet here the critical artist is no less delighted at the subtle skill with which the groups are arrayed, without being too scattered or crowded, at the picturesque varieties of form, the fine effects produced by judicious contrasts, and the admirably graduated and varied expression, while at the same time unity of purpose and sentiment is preserved more successfully, perhaps, than in any other of the painter's productions. mm)immmmm)mmmmm)mm-: - 18 THE WILKIE GALLERY. The fame of Wilkie was now fully established, yet the prices received for his works were utterly inadequate. For "The Blind Fiddler" he had received only fifty guineas ; but this sum Sir George Beaumont subsequently, in fact, doubled. He began therefore seriously to revolve the project of publishing engravings from his pictures. In this he had a twofold object. " He could not but feel how valuable to a great painter a great engraver was : while the canvass itself remained fixed as fate in some rich man's gallery, and only known to the fortunate few who had influence to open the reluctant doors, the impressions from the graver flew lightly over the world, and carried into the cabin of the cotter, as well as into the hall of the lord, the same shape and sentiment and feeUng (we had almost said the same colour) which charmed us in the original. The painter who disregards this auxiUary ot art seems wiUing to lose the influence of half of his own power, because he keeps the world in ignorance of his strength ; and he foregoes the honourable fruits of his own genius, because he has as fair a right to share in the profits of the engraving, as the hand has which directs the graver." It was fortunate that Wilkie should have met with professors of the sister art capable of entering into the pecuhar humour and character of his works, and of retaining the inimitable expression, and rich racy touch and handling. In his fellow-student, Burnet, and in Raimbach, he found what he sought ; and there is perhaps no instance of the works of a fine painter being so completely rendered. The large original engravings have enabled the world at large to participate in an enjoyment Uttle less than that of witnessing the originals themselves. The time was now come when Wilkie might venture for a while, without injury to his prospects, to pay his long-deferred visit to the affectionate circle who so ardently desired to have him among them again. He had not been neglectful, as his means improved, of numerous kind offices to them ; and his sister Helen had received the promised piano. Impatient to arrive, he stayed but to get a glance at the Academy exhibition ; and early in May went down by sea to Scotland, under circumstances widely different from those which not long before might have driven him back there, a baffled, impoverished, and disappointed man; having now won that fame which was reflected from himself to his friends, and caused them to rejoice in his joy. All his old friends gathered around him. His early patrons took pride in having been the first to perceive and draw forth his talents. " Neither did those older and graver persons whom he had introduced in his 'Pitlessie Fair,' hesitate, it is said, to call and forgive him for having handed them up to fame in the lasting colours of the pencil." These were the happiest days of the painter's life, and they might well repay his previous anxiety and the dark and cloudy days through which he had passed. But his health— undermined by these causes, and by the over-excitement, perhaps, of a sudden lift almost from concealed despondency to the intoxi- cation of triumph, and the returning gush of tenderness after unwonted absence— at length gave way, and in the midst of the endearments of home he was laid up with protracted BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 19 illness, which yielded at length to youth and the tender care of his nurses. His captivity was soothed by letters of the most cordial kindness from his attached friend Sir George Beaumont; and as his convalescence permitted, he replenished his portfolio with a new stock of studies from nature, to be wrought into his future compositions. After five months' absence, he took leave of his family, and, accompanied by his mother to Edinburgh, sailed again from Leith Pier, to resume his studies and his triumphs in the Great Metropolis. Wilkie's position, at this period, as to patronage and emolument, may be best gathered from his own words, in a letter to his brother : — " You will very naturally conclude, from the accounts you have most likely heard of the fame that I have acquired, that I must be rapidly accumulating a fortune. It is, however, I am sorry to say, very far from being the case. What I have received since I commenced my career has been but barely sufficient to support me, and I do not live extravagantly either. Indeed, my present situation is the most singular that can v^ell be imagined. I believe I do not exaggerate when I say that I have at least forty pictures bespoke, and some by the highest people in the kingdom ; yet, after all, I have but seldom got anything for any picture I have yet painted." This is a sad fact, that works which were the result of years of observation and study, and that in their actual composition and execution occupied so much time, should have been thus repaid: and that the painter should have been obhged to turn his attention to portraits, and to resort, at a later period, to the doubtful speculation of exhibiting his works. Tempted as he must have been, by the inadequate return for his labours, to shorten the time required for the production of his pictures, and to hit upon a style more rapid and superficial, which would pay better, he had yet too much of the true artist about him to give way ; but even, to the surprise of some, continued sedulouslj', at a period when his fame might seem to have dispensed with it, to draw at the Academy, especially from the living model, continually endeavouring to improve his style by a closer study of nature. This constant aim of Wilkie at further refinement of style, seems, at a not much later period, to have been, and not without reason, a source of no small uneasiness to his best admirers, who feared lest he should overshoot the mark, and lose somewhat of his racy native vigour in the search after quahties of secondary importance. Sir George Beaumont reminds him, while admirably discriminating his pecuUar walk in art, that " there is in the first feelings of a man of genius a simplicity and truth, which, as he advances in practical skill, will, without constant attention, be very apt to be lost in the struggle to excel : simpUcity," he continues, " is the vital principle of the line you have chosen. Deep pathos, although I think you are quite equal to it, you do not appear to aim at ; satire and broad humour are not, perhaps, congenial to your feelings ; what remains then is the amenity of humble life, dashed with a proper propor- tion of comic pleasantry. In this line — in ' The Blind Fiddler,' &c., — you have succeeded 20 THE WILKIE GALLEHy. to the admiration of the world. I only wish to caution you," &c. There was as yet however, little to fear ; for the painter still continued to pour forth from the rich stores of his mind fresh compositions, which, as regards, at least, still greater variety of character and incident, surpassed those by which his fame had already been established, and put to flight the envious carping of some of his brethren, who affected to doubt whether his " pauper " vein were not already exhausted. They erred in their estimate, for Willde had drank deep at the fountain-head of inspiration. Of life, as it had fallen under his observation, and was viewed by his peculiar and original cast of mind, he continued to reproduce the image upon his canvass, with no diminution of his original felicitous power. Of this " The Rent-Day" gave ample proof. The scene and subject were totally different from his previous subjects, and yet equally true to nature. We have no longer the interior of the Scottish clachan or the rustic cottage, but are introduced to a more important, if less picturesque, scene of action, — the comfortable steward's room in the mansion of his noble master, whei'e preparations have been made to receive the rents of his humble tenantry, and to feast them well when the business is concluded. The box containing their deeds and leases is open ; while tables are spread with the means of luxurious refreshment, rarely or never partaken of but on this important occasion. Varying from stalwart youth to asthmatic infirmity, the tenants all appear of the humble class, clad alike in the frieze coat and clouted shoe, familiar with the plough-handles ; yet they appear not to have come equally well provided to the scene of reckoning ; for while the countenances of some are calm and assured, others appear blank and despondent : and death too appears to have been busy since the last rent-day, in calling in his debts ; for among the circle sits a young widow, whose hearth has been thus rendered desolate, and her children orphans. A pathetic, almost painful, feeling pervades this group : here, exqui- sitely blended by the painter's art, the lights and shadows of a humble class of Scottish life are cast upon the canvass with subtle skill and profound feeling, and we read in their varied expression, " the short and simple annals of the poor." At a table in the foreground is seated, in his padded chair, the self-important functionary, " every inch a steward;" a world of care and responsibility is on his close-knit brows ; shrewdness in his eye, and in the keen and somewhat selfish lines of his face, the lower part of which indicates withal the well-fed, pampered inmate of a luxurious house. Before him stands a figure perfectly primitive and patriarchal in the simplicity of his aspect and costume ; one who has grown gray, and bent under the toils of his humble life. His broad-brimmed hat and staff are laid on the floor, while he pays his rent ; and, being no orator, he has devolved upon a young man, perhaps his son, the office of reclaiming some portion : his placid and patient manner contrasts curiously with the generous warmth of the young man, who, with looks persuasively bland and much ingenious acuteness, is pleading his cause to the important arbiter, who seems half puzzled, half angry, at the nature of the application, and little T 1 1, X' f: n rti "Pi 4; ^' J/: -4; J: I p. 51 TO p BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 21 disposed to admit it, if the letter of the lease, as seems the case, will bear him out in his hard exaction. Behind these are two farmers whose business is settled, and whose inimitably comic expression relieves the darker shades of the picture— the one on the left, who appears to have paid somewhat in too great a hurry, is going over the items afresh ; and the conclusion that he has been overreached is just dawning upon his face, full of ludicrous consternation and incipient fury. The other appears to be, like Cassio, " no arithmetician," and is carefully and slowly working his way upon his finger-ends through some intricate calculation, with a curious abstraction that would provoke a smile "under the ribs of death." Next comes the sweet widow, upon whose pretty gentle face sorrow appears to have cast the first traces, attired with modest neatness; her babe playing unconsciously with the key that once opened all the joys of a home of which she is no longer tenant : her elder child sits by her— a group pleasingly painful, as we anticipate in idea the distresses that too probably await those who have hitherto been living in the lap of affectionate security, from which their bereavement has driven them. Two, more farmers are seated ; one, whose fallen countenance tells of unavailing struggles with misfortune ; he gnaws the head of his staff, as, with listless dejection, he awaits his turn to be called; the other is convulsively coughing, as though he would burst a blood-vessel, perhaps with exaggerated emphasis, to bespeak compas- sion and indulgence for a short-coming payment. Behind them stand two more : one of them seems well to do in the world, to whom his fellow, holding him tight by the button, seems to be detailing a whole catalogue of agricultural disasters. The painter has wisely consigned to the background a display of gluttony, which, while it completes the character of the picture, would be repulsive but for the still broader humour which he has thrown over it. Around a well-spread table a few of the tenants who have paid their rents are making the most of an opportunity that comes but once a year; as though, by their desperate efforts, they could recover some portion of the money they had reluctantly parted with, or were determined to take away with them as large a discount as possible. A jovial butler, well amused at their voracity, is drawing corks with aU his might, to keep pace with the drought of the party. There is a dogged seriousness about their half-choking visages, which is intensely ludicrous, and which absorbs, so to speak, all the grossness of the exhibition. Willde was now at the zenith of his fame, and the lovers of art in "every class were dehghted to honour him. His journal,* commenced about this period, shows us his daily hfe, and abounds in notices of the characters he mixed with. His course of study was unintermitting ; he painted steadily on, in the midst of many interruptions from aristocratic patrons, in whose society he mixed freely. Among these the most constant and valuable were Lord Mulgrave and Sir George Beaumont, who watched with * Contained in Cunningliam's Life. 22 THE WILKIE GALLERY. interest the course of that brilliant genius they had delighted to welcome. Wilkie's principal companions among the artists were still Haydon and Jackson, though his journal, records the visits of Newton, Leslie, and Mulready, and men of kindred talent and feeling. The closeness of his application was occasionally reheved by dinners with his patrons in town, and visits to their country houses. Wherever he went, he was on the watch for incident and character : " A peculiar turn of the head, a particular motion of the body, a face in which he beheld something nationally true, either in beauty or expression, were treasured in his memory or his sketch book." About this time he received a commission from Mr. Angerstein, who wisely left price and subject to his option, and for whom he subsequently painted " The Village Festival." He was now engaged on three pictures, " The Sick Lady," " The Jew's Harp," and " The Cut Finger." Wilkie had removed from Sol's Row to Great Portland-street, to the house of Mrs. Coppard, with whom he ever remained on the most friendly footing, and whose family appear to have done everything to promote his comfort. His sphere of acquaintance widened every day : we find him now on intimate terms with Dr. Baillie, and his sister, the celebrated Joanna BaiUie, who were ever among his warmest friends and admirers. He paid a visit to Lord and Lady Lansdowne, at the old Castle of Southampton, where they maintained a fanciful and half-baronial state He sat for his picture to Sir W. Beechy — he was a pretty constant attendant in town upon the preaching of the cele- brated and witty Sidney Smith : we find him too, with feelings of envy, dining with Godwin, Wolcot, and Listen, a curious triumvirate ; to Jack Bannister, the celebrated comedian, he owed the happy suggestion of " The Reading of a Will " as a fitting subject ; Leigh Hunt too appears on his hst of friends, which seems to have been a truly catholic one, in which kindred wit, genius, good-humour, and refinement were the attracting principles. With the numerous calls upon his time, occasioned by this spreading fame, he continued his usual industrious course, frequented the Academy, and attended Sir Antony Carlisle's lectures on anatomy. He began also to sketch out his first ideas of the picture of " The Village Alehouse." From this time it would appear that Wilkie began to travel a good deal, a taste which grew upon him as he advanced in hfe ; and his health required change of air and scene. He made a pilgrimage with Haydon to the birth-place of Sir Joshua Reynolds, at Plympton, in Devonshire ; and in the autumn went down to Coleorton Hall, the seat of his steadfast friend. Sir George Beaumont. This was a visit long held in pleasing remembrance. The place combines the magnificent and tasteful luxury of our aristocratic family seats, with the romantic beauty dear to the poet and the painter : the hand of refined taste had adorned, without spoiling, its natural advantages ; heightening, but not invading, the beauty and contemplative stillness of its ancient woods and glades. f I •Tt| ^1 ri'l fff ?*| miimiimmmmmimmmy ' ' : ^ ©2 JlI ^1 ^1 IT. IPS is BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 23 And never was such a scene tenanted by an owner better able to appreciate it, or wlio could so well increase its enjoyment to the intellectual circle which he loved to assemble around him, by the amenity of his manners and the elegance of his pursuits and pleasures. Here Wilkie passed his time after his own heart, in sketching from the surrounding scenery, or from any remarkable groups he could obtain, varied by walks with Sir George and Lady Beaumont, and agreeable conversations on art or poetry ; while in the evening Sir George often read to the circle selections from our poets and essayists, which proved the justness of his taste. In all this Wilkie was well qualified to bear his part : for over and above his distinction as a painter, his letters abundantly display his general intelligence and refinement as a man ; and the attentions he had received from the great, far from inspiring the vulgar presumption of many, had produced no other eifect than that of " polishhig his simplicity and his natural good manners." Nor were his generous entertainers less gratified than himself. " The pleasure," says Sir George, " which your visit gave us, will not soon pass from our minds ; and I cannot but look forward with pleasure to the time when you are to paint a picture here. I hope you will not defer it too long, for at my time of life, and with my constitution, it would be presumptuous to promise myself many years ; as long, however, as it pleases God to spare my life, I shall be happy to see you. I hope you have finished your task, and are proceeding with the work of your heart." This concluding remark has an allusion to two pictures then in hand — one a group of family portraits, which appears to have consumed much of his time ; and the long-projected and carefully considered " Village Alehouse," in which he intended to put forth all his powers, and show the advances he had made in colour, harmony, and richness, from the sedulous study of the great masters of the Dutch school, Rembrandt, Ostade, and Teniers. While this picture was on the easel, Wilkie became an Associate of the Royal Academy. This was, it is true, a superfluous distinction for one whose popularity was based upon public sympathy and the admiration of the best judges ; but still he had been accustomed to aspire to it as an honorary distinction, and felt perhaps that it was his due. However, with his customary modesty, he did not take the initiative ; and it was not till various members of the Academy had advised him to put his name down for the vacancy, that he was induced to do so, and to go through those formalities which are usual on such occasions. It is hardly necessary to say that he was successful ; his election dates November 6th, 1809. He was now at work in earnest upon Mr. Angerstein's commission of " The Village Alehouse:" and from the entries in his journal, recording the numerous sittings of his models, his repeated alterations, and the suggestions and criticisms of his friends, no picture that he ever painted appears to have been so deeply considered, or so laboriously wrought up to perfection. He was here in the new field of out-of-door Ufe ; hitherto 24 THE WILKIE GALLERY. he had painted interiors, requiring strong concentration of Ught and shade, but he had now to diffuse over his composition the brightness and the joyous clearness of open daylight, and to paint in a background of landscape and sky, matters as yet quite foreign to his style, and in which he ran some risk of comparative failure. Sir George Beaumont, who watched his progress with interest, and influenced him much by his judicious advice, remarks, " All that part which would be impossible to others, you will execute with ease ; I am only afraid, from want of practice in these things, the sky and back- ground may cost you some trouble." Here he had an able adviser in Callcott, who looked over his labours, which he suspended from time to time, to occupy himself with smaUer pictures, and the irksome but needful task of portraiture, without which he could not have found means to carry on his larger works. The more generous of his patrons reproached him with the extreme moderation of his charges, advising him to raise them, which advice Lord Mulgrave enforced by sending him double the price, he had put upon a picture executed for him. Had all acted thus, Wilkie might have continued in his proper walk of art without interruption; but those who were ready to reproach him with leaving it, were not always equally disposed to prevent his doing so by the exercise of needful liberality. Of the smaller pictures, one painted at this period was the jeu d'esprit of "The Man with the Girl's Cap." This he sent to the Exhibition, but so inferior to his other works did it seem to the " hanging " committee, that in an indirect manner they advised him to withdraw it. To such an intimation his ardent and high-spirited friend, Haydon, would have opposed a feeUng of indignant defiance ; but Wilkie, whatever might have been his private feeling on the subject, submitted to the wish of the committee with becoming resignation. Indeed it may be reasonably doubted whether the taste of this picture is altogether equal to its happy execution ; certain it is, at least, that though none but a Wilkie could have painted it, it would never alone have obtained for him his high reputation, nor would such a class of works have long sustained it. Yet it is a pleasing morceau enough. He had now at length finished and placed in the exhibition the picture of "The Village Festival," on which he had bestowed more than usual study. Though this is a very beautiful picture, we may be allowed to doubt whether it is equal either in truth or veracity of character to the finest of Wilkie's works ; yet so picturesque is the composition, and so dehcious its tone and colour, so fine the management of the broad transparent shadows, and the rich well-concentrated lights, that it is only on a closer inspection that we perceive its comparative want of interest, both as regards the subject and the hmited range of character exhibited. The figures, too, are not Scotch, whose every pecuharity Wilkie excelled in representing, but English ; and they do not bear, with one or two exceptions, to our thinking, the same unequivocal national fidelity. "Indeed, he con- BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 25 fessed," says Mr. Cunningham, " that he never could enter into the spirit of English fun, as he could into the peculiar glee of Scotland. " There is a sort of muddiness of intellect about aU who drink ale in the pictures of Wilkie : see how different are the heroes of his 'Whiskey Still;' their heads are clear, their eyes like stars, and humour flows improved from their lips." So charming is the picture as a whole, that this may be deemed, however, somewhat hypercritical. The scene is an old village alehouse, with its timber beams and gabled roof, with additions of more modern date ; the tall elms of old England cluster richly above it. Within and without all is redolent of joyous hilarity, fast passing into riotous uproar, under the potent influence of the landlord's ale, which circulates around in bottles and flagons, jugs and glasses, tiU, at length, with spilth and overflow, " even the very table itself looks drunk." At a table near the tavern porch stands the portly Boniface, with clean white cap and apron, a capital and characteristic figure. His round rosy face expands in benevolent satisfaction ; and in the happy consciousness of increase to his till, he pours forth from a black bottle an irresistible glass of ale, creaming and foaming and sparkling over the brim, as does England's best in the light of a summer-day — to all other potations far superior. The gleaming cascade catches the eye of a smock-frocked ploughman, who has had some drop too much already ; getting more drouthy as he drinks, he finds his power to leave the scene of temptation fast abandoning him. He is the object of contention between a party of his roystering companions, still further gone than himself, who are determined to make a finish of it, and will have no sneaking off, and his poor wife and daughter, who are endeavouring to get him home while he is yet able to walk. The issue seems doubtful, for there is a look of sore conflict in his flushed face as he catches the gleam of the fragrant hquor, though he has just sense enough left to resign himself, and, putting his feet in the homeward direction, submit to be haled off with aU the might which his distressed wife and poor little girl can muster. The pathetic and the humorous are here, as in so many other works of Wilkie's, closely intermingled and exquisitely blended. That poor child is evidently not for the first time supporting the steps of a drunken father. There is an expression of precocious care and sorrow about her thin little figure, which tells of a home rendered noisome and squaUd by drink. Such scenes are too common around us in their revolting misery ; but the art of the painter has robbed this of its coarsest traits, and made it beautifully painful. This group is among the finest of Wilkie's. There is no other of equal merit to bear it out, unless the scene of half-drunken gallantly at the corner of the large window, which in the original painting is sunk in an exquisite grey tone of colour, and put in after the most felicitous manner of Teniers. Other groups and scattered figures keep up the spirit of the scene of revelry, among which may be signahsed the negro, whose face literally shines with mirth and drink ; and the shy lassie in the balcony, to whom a half-tipsy admirer u 26 THE WILKIB GALLERY. is offering a glass of something potent, with no good intention doubtless. In the fore- ground is a drunken figure, which, if it reads a moral lesson, serves withal to impart a somewhat too repulsively bacchanalian character to the whole composition, On the whole, we should not select this from among the finest works of Wilkie, prefemng the " sober glee" and dry humour of his own country, to this scene of coarser EngUsh revelry. The beauty of the colour, perfection of tone, and touch and finish of the picture are indeed inimitable, and show great study and increasing refinement of style in these respects. " The Cut Finger" is one of the prettiest of Wilkie's minor domestic pictures, and comes home to our infant days' remembrances. We are evidently here in the cottage of a most notable old dame, where there is a place for everything, and everything is in its place, even to the cat : everything breathes an orderly atmosphere ; nor is there a vestige of litter but what is perpetrated by the pet of the house— the little grandson, who has been indulged in the dangerous pastime of cutting out miniature ships in stick, and rigging them with paper, with a handbasin for an arsenal. He has cut his fingei. not very seriously, if we judge by the calm looks of the dame and her maid ; but, alarmed at the sight of blood, he is ruefully blubbering, with a comical visage, in which fright manifestly predominates over pain ; griping hard aU the while the instrument which caused the mischief, which he refuses to yield to the neat-handed damsel, who strives to extract it from his grasp. The experienced old dame, who has everything ready, is at work with her lint and rag, which she gravely adjusts to the bleeding finger with calm complacency, as if used to the business ; while an elder sister watches the process with looks of interest not unmingled with alarm. Wilkie's journal gives us the progress of this pleasing composition, of which every portion was painted carefully from models. That for the old woman, he tells us, he was lucky enough to find ere he had gone the length of the street, as he sallied forth in search of one. "The Jew's Harp" is also a charming subject, painted with a raciness and picturesque force, admirably transcribed in our engraving. The story is too well told to need explana- tion, and it carries us back to the happy period of chUdhood, easily pleased with any fresh marvel. The little boy is all wonderment at the sounds that his father is evoking from the mysterious instrument— the little lassie all delight : even the tired dog seems not unconscious of the lively influence. No picture of Wilkie's is more felicitous in manner and handling than this : at once vigorous and delicate, it seems painted with a broad, rapid, and masterly pencil. The accessories are admirably composed and put in : in short, it is one of those happy morceaux in which we would not wish a touch more or less, so complete is it in its way. From long-continued and anxious study, the excitement of town life, and some secret chagrin, perhaps, that the pictures of Edward Bird (a man indeed of no mean talent, but greatly Wilkie's inferior) seemed for the while, in the judgment of certain of his brother If BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 2f artists, to threaten an eclipse of his own supremacy, Wilkie now appears to have fallen for the first time into that nervous state which, at a subsequent period, prevented him for months together from using any professional exertions ; and he felt compelled to consult his friend. Dr. Baillie. Reports of his illness crept abroad, and alarmed both his family and friends, wlio, loving the gentle nature of the man, vied with one another in kind olEces. Sir George Beaumont had just before, but with delicate consideration for all that affected the feel- ings of men of genius, privately urged upon Wilkie's acceptance pecuniary assistance, which, however, " with the highest sense of his generosity," the no less generous painter declined to accept. Sir George next pressed him to take a little Coleorton air, or, if it was thought desirable for him to visit Madeira, assures him that he should consider it "most un- kind" if he did not inform him of any deficiency of purse which might prevent his carrying out this plan. But Dr. Baillie, aware that the disorder was partly mental, advised him wholly to withdraw for a while from the studies in which he was wrapped up, and to quit the me- tropolis, for the purer air of its environs ; while his sisters, who were meditating a journey into the country, offered to the invalid painter the comforts of their own residence at Hamp- stead, during the term of their absence. The house which now received Wilkie, and which will derive so lasting an interest from being the abode of Joanna Baillie, is situated in the most breezy part of the village, and within a few minutes' walk of the health-inspiring heath, with its rich variety of home scenery, of broken banks, bright with the yellow furze, of sandy lanes, and blue fading distances ; a kind of landscape well suited to the painter's taste, amusing the overwrought mind with its lively variety, while the bracing aromatic air was equally calculated to invigorate his shattered frame. He speaks with grateful thanks indeed of the benefits he had derived from this luxurious seclusion, surrounded with all the atten- tions of a home, to his distinguished hostess. Sir George Beaumont next attracted him to Dunmow, at that time his residence. Here he began to resume his pencils and palette, with this kind friend as a moderator, for whom he dashed in a vigorous sketch or two, which his host insisted on rewarding with a liberality that fairly overpowered the feelings of the convalescent. It was for his friend Dr. Baillie that he painted " The Pedlar ; " — an incident of country Ufe. In the remote village, or still more secluded farm, this personage is of some mark, and his arrival an event ; — witness the " Bry ce Snailsfoot" of Scott ; — for he carries not only his pack, furnished forth like that of his plausible prototype, Autolycus, in the " Winter's Tale," with " Lawn, as white as driven snow, Cypms, blaclc as e'er was crow. Gloves as sweet, as damask roses. Masks for faces, and for noses ; Pins, and poking-sticks of steel. What maids lack from head to heel," 28 THE WILKIE GALLERY. but he is also the general newsman and gossip of the district ; — he has something for every- body ; tidings of weddings and courtings for the young ; scandal for the old dame, and politics for the good man — he well knows how to frame his face to all occasions, to tickle every one on the weak side, and turn everything to the main chance. Such an one is here exhibiting the choicest contents of his box, before . . . . " The prettiest low-born lass, that e'er Ran on the greensward." .... A gay-patterned dress, Intended, perhaps, for her wedding, has wholly captivated her fancy ; and while a sister is carefully e.xamining its texture, she turns with a look of ap- peal to her father, who, in his perplexity between the value of ' siller' and the desire of indulging his pretty daughter, is drily ejecting from the corner of his mouth a long whiff of tobacco. He is apparently giving way to the pleasing temptation ; but in the back- ground, meanwhile, the old dame, (a most marvellous character of Wilkie's,) one who is famous at a bargain, is fighting out a hard battle to save a penny. It is evident that she is weU aware that the article is cheap enough, (a female counsellor is holding up her hands, as if to say, you will never have such a chance again,) though she is trying with all her might and main to appear indignant at the Pedlar's extortion : but it is of no use, he is up to the manceuvre, and prepared for the attack, which he knows well how to parry with his blandest smile and most conciliatory manner, resolved all the while not to go a farthing lower : — " Like feather bed 'twixt castle wall, And heavy brunt of eannon-ball," he receives the blow and gives way for the moment ; but no impression can be finally made on him, and he carries his point, no doubt, by patiently wearying out his assailant. In point of character, Wilkie never surpassed the expression thrown into this brace of disputants — they are true to nature in general, and to Scotland perhaps in particular — each is the representative of its class, and yet a dramatist with all his resources could hardly stamp upon the mind a more perfect impression of their individuality than is here done within the com- pass of an inch by the astonishing art of the painter. Soon after his return to London, the death of Sir Francis Bourgeois left a vacancy in the list of Academicians, and Wilkie, now but in his twenty-sixth year, was duly elected to fill his place ; a honour which, though reflected back with equal or greater lustre upon the body of his brethren, he could not but feel proud of, and which, together with the general sympathy for him occasioned by his illness, must have proved a cordial to him in his state of anxiety and weakness. To the Academy he presented the customary diploma picture — " Boys Digging for Rats." This has always been considered as one of the most remarkable of his minor productions in all artistical qualities. The subject is one, which although it might interest a sportsman. J' I* Tf <4, to- BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE. 29 is wholly indebted to the skilful manner of treatment, for its attraction to the lovers of art. It is hardly necessary to describe it, so well is the story told. A group of boys and dogs are engaged in hunting out the destructive vermin that infest the yard ; the game has wholly absorbed them ; and the nearer they get to the hidden retreat, the keener they become. The painter has seized the moment of approaching success, and has given to both dog and boy the characteristic expression of eager, high-wrought anticipation, in which the charm of the picture consists, and which redeems, with the magic of art, the insignificance of the subject, which in the hands of an ordinary painter would have been a very common and perhaps unpleasant one. But in the grouping, expression, light and shade, and colour, we see all the qualities that belong to a master hand ; and that can throw over the simplest incident an interest and refinement that it is the object of art to create, detecting the beautiful and characteristic, when the ordinary eye would fail to discover it. But Wilkie was now withdrawn from consideration of himself and his own honours, by the rapidly dechning health of his venerable father. The great distance, and consequent loss of time, in days before steam had brought the remotest parts of the kingdom in such close proximity, had prevented the painter from complying with the oft-repeated wish of his family that he should revisit Cults ; and their anxieties about his own health, and even his circumstances, as it would appear, were continual. In August 1811, he went down to Scotland, where he found his father in a very weak state, though still in the possession of his vigorous mental faculties. In the interval of his absence, his sister Helen had grown up into a fine accomplished girl ; and from this period commences his correspondence with her. He reviewed all the old familiar scenes with a fresh eye ; with practised taste selected new materials for future compositions, just dawning upon his fancy — he was impatient at the long hiatus in his studies, which illness had occasioned — and as his brother, Thomas Wilkie, had, during his absence, busied himself in finding for him a new abode and painting-room at Kensington, he returned to town, his health now fairly re-established, for the while, with renovated vigour, and rejoiced as a giant to run a new career of fame. But though Wilkie had struggled successfully through the difficulties that beset the path of the aspirant, and stood crowned with the highest honours of his profession, anxieties of another kind began henceforth to thicken around him. His prices were indeed higher, but his expenses were increased ; and although he had derived some advantages, (not indeed what he ought to have done,) from the success of the masterly engravings, executed by Burnet and Raimbach, after his pictures, yet his means were so low, that the project of forming an exhibition of his works presented itself to his mind, in a tempting, though doubtful light. He consulted his friends, and received the usual variety of opinions, varying from sanguine anticipations of success to prophecies of blank and utter failure. He ventured on the experiment, and was disappointed in the 30 THE WILKIE GALLERY. issue : some pecuniary loss probably resulted from the speculation, though his fame was extended by it ; and Mr. Cunningham believes, on no doubtful authority, that to an inci- dent connected with the project, we owe the conception of one of his very finest works, "The Distraining for Rent." This, it seems, was the seizure of one of the pictures, not for any debt of his own, but for one due by the party of whom he had rented the room, and which he probably got back again. When, indeed, as Mr. C. remarks, did vexation produce such fruit ? Besides this misadventure of his own, he was called upon to attend to his fast sinking parent, who was becoming unable to perform his duties, and for whom an assistant had scarcely been provided, after anxious care, ere the old man, after a deceitful in- terval of apparent renovation, sank calmly to his final rest, full of years and honours. Wilkie said Httle of his own feelings in his letters to the desolated family at Cults— though to one of such fine and true nature, and who had lived with his father on terms of almost patriarchal simplicity and affectionate confidence, unchilled by time or distance, his loss must have been most deeply felt. In the affliction of his mother and sister he was no less afflicted ; and after ministering such pecuniary aid as lay in his power, he began to turn his thoughts seriously towards bringing them up to London. His sister was delighted at the prospect of this union of the long-scattered members of the family, and no less so, at her Uvely age, with the exciting idea of a residence in the great metropolis ; but Mrs. Wilkie was almost rooted to the spot, to vphich all the recollections of her youth attached, where her father and mother and old associates still survived, and where she had brought up a family in honour. Yet her reluctance on these grounds was overcome by the thought of enjoying the protection of her son during her declining years, under his own roof ; and she prepared for the formidable removal, with feelings of mingled pain and pleasure. Wilkie's plan was to give up lodgings, and take a house, which was to be fitted up with the furniture from the manse, and he parti- cularly dwells on certain articles of antique fashion, which had perhaps served already to adorn his earher pictures, and which were useful as studies — " an old Gothic chair and copper-saucepan were favourites, and often sat for their likenesses, and always with effect." His health, now tolerably re-estabhshed, required care to maintain, by the enjoyment of fresh air and cheerful walks ; and he retreated accordingly from the centre of fashion to Kensington, famous for its salubrity, and then more open and rural than it has since become. He removed from his old friends, the Coppards, with whom he had so long resided, and, August 30th, 1813, took possession of the house. No. 24, Phillimore-place, with his mother and sister. This was perhaps the proudest and happiest period of his life. His honoured mother, to whose indulgent interference in his behalf he probably owed it that he had been permitted to follow the bent of his inclination to painting, now sat by his fireside, witnessing the success that had attended his efforts, and with the old familiar furniture Li: 1 1