CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 189I BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924008646279 
 
C^OvniiC*^ 
 
A BIOaRAPHY 
 
 OP 
 
 DAYID OOX 
 
 Remarks on His Works and Genius. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HALL. 
 
 EDITED, "WITH ADDITIONS, BY JOHN THACKRAT BUNCE. 
 
 CASSELL, Fetter, Galpin & Co. 
 
 ZONDON, PARIS # NSW YORE. 
 1881. 
 
 [all niGHTS RESERVED.] 
 
 > / 
 
A BIOGRAPHY , 
 
 OP 
 
 DAVID COX 
 
EDITOE'S PREFACE. 
 
 In the introduction prefixed to his work, Mr. William 
 Hall, the Author of this Memoir of David Cox, has 
 explained the motive which led him to undertake the 
 task, and also the qualifications he possessed for 
 executing it. Long and close intimacy with Cox, during 
 the whole period of the artist's residence at Harborne, 
 afibrded his Biographer special opportunities of learning 
 the history of his friend, of studying his works and his 
 method, and of forming an estimate of his genius. It 
 was not as a person uninstructed in Art, or as an 
 amateur, that Mr. Hall entered upon the work. He 
 was himself an artist of long experience and of no mean 
 capacity — one, indeed, from whom David Cox did not 
 disdain to receive suggestions as to the choice and treat- 
 ment of his subjects, and hints as to the method of 
 painting in oil colours. To his technical knowledge, 
 Mr. Hall added the advantages derived from a large 
 acquaintance with books and men, and these were 
 enhanced by singular modesty of character, refinement 
 of taste, and by a poetic temperament, united — a rare 
 combination — with sound practical judgment. The 
 counsel and sympathy of such a man were of great 
 value to one so sensitive, retiring, and self-distrustful 
 as was David Cox ; and the unbroken friendship and 
 
vi EDITOB'8 PREFACE. 
 
 unreserved confidence of thirty years attest the estima- 
 tion which Cox placed upon this association with his 
 friend and Biographer. 
 
 A brief notice of the Author may not be unaccept- 
 able to readers of the Memoir. Mr. Hall was bom in 
 Bristol Street, Birmingham, on the 18th of January, 
 1812. His father was a worker in fancy tortoisesheU 
 — a trade then largely practised in the town, but now 
 almost wholly extinct — and to him William Hall was 
 apprenticed, and served out his time as a tortoisesheU 
 worker. He disliked the occupation, for he had long 
 cherished a desire to become a painter, and had been 
 quietly teaching himself the elements of landscape art. 
 The father, however, objected to the young man's pro- 
 posed change of plan; but seems ultimately to have 
 given way, and with the assistance of his uncle, Mr. 
 Henry Edwards, one of the leading silversmiths of 
 Birmingham, William Hall was enabled for a brief 
 period to carry on his art education in London. He 
 went there in 1834, and spent some time in copying 
 portraits in the National Gallery, especially those by 
 Eeynolds and Gainsborough, for whose works he had 
 a particular affection. After a year's residence in 
 London, he returned to Birmingham, and began to 
 employ himself as an artist, receiving help in this way 
 from some of the local painters, and from amateurs, 
 notably from Mr. Charles Hawker (who largely assisted 
 in forming the famous Gillott collection of pictures), 
 and from Mr. Zachariah Parkes, whose daughter he 
 afterwards married. This marriage took place in 1841, 
 
EDITOR'S PBBFAOE. vii 
 
 by which time Mr. Hall had fairly begun to establish 
 himself as a landscape painter. He exhibited chiefly in 
 Birmingham, and occasionally in London, but his works 
 were usually executed for commissions given by friends 
 who could appreciate his merits. In 1852, he was 
 elected a member of the Birmingham Society of Artists, 
 and for many years acted as its curator. He was also 
 honorary curator to the Corporation Art Gallery of the 
 town. He died on the 24th of April, 1880, at his 
 house at King's Heath, near Birmingham. The finishing 
 touches to his Memoir of David Cox were given only a 
 few weeks before his death. 
 
 Mr. HaU painted comparatively little : not more, 
 probably, than half a dozen landscapes, of cabinet size, 
 in the course of a year. These he often kept a long 
 time in his own hands, being fastidious as to finish and 
 expression. His works have about them a charming 
 outdoor freshness, and a certain poetical quality, very 
 difficult to describe, but at once recognised in the 
 pictures themselves. One of them, a view from the 
 door of Bettws Church, painted in company with David 
 Cox, and now in the Birmingham Art Gallery, is a 
 good example of his style. The chief occupation of 
 Mr. Hall's life, however, was that of an adviser of 
 picture buyers who desired to form choice collections. 
 In this capacity he was invaluable. His fine taste, and 
 large knowledge of art, made him an admirable guide 
 as to the merit of the selected works, while his high 
 sense of personal honour and his unvarying honesty 
 insured his clients against the too ffequent tricks of the 
 
viii JEDITOB'S PREFACE. 
 
 picture market. All who had business relations with 
 Mr. Hall knew that they could trust his judgment and 
 his honesty, and he thus acquired a large connection as 
 an adviser and a dealer. He had great skill, also, in 
 the restoration of works of art, and was much employ eid 
 in this direction. 
 
 For his personal qualities Mr. Hall was held in 
 esteem by all those who knew him, and in affection 
 by those who knew him well. He was a man of 
 amiable character, kindly and generous — one of those 
 who had no enemies, nor ever spoke or thought 
 unkindly of others. Though a reserved man — ex- 
 tremely reticent with regard to himself — he was a 
 great favourite in the society he frequented ; having a 
 keen, quiet humour, untouched by malice, being cour- 
 teous in manner, and invariably thoughtful of others. 
 The attractions of his conversation were considerable, 
 for he had read much and with profit, and his own 
 original powers as a writer, both in prose and in refined 
 and graceful verse, were far above the average. One 
 of the great pleasures, as it was one of the distinctions, 
 of his life, was his intimacy with David Cox. The two 
 men suited each other as perfectly in habit and tempera- 
 ment as in occupation; and from the date of Cox's 
 settlement at Harborne until the period of his death, 
 they were constantly in association, visiting at each 
 other's houses, and travelling together on sketching 
 tours in Wales. Long before the picture-buying public 
 recognised the surpassing merit of Cox's work, Mr. 
 Hall discerned it, and laboured hard to inspire others 
 
EBITOB'S PBBFAGB. ix 
 
 with the feeling of enthusiasm which animated himself. 
 It was a source of happiness to him in his closing 
 years — often broken by painful illness — that he had 
 lived to see the greatness of Cox admitted ; and it was 
 one of his consolations to have prepared a memorial of 
 his friend, in the hope that it might one day see the 
 light. In this work the reader will feel, with the 
 writer of these lines, that Mr. Hall has done justice to 
 the genius of David Cox, and has left a not unworthy 
 memorial of himself. 
 
 J. THAOKRAY BUNCE. 
 Birmingham,, February, 1881. 
 
AUTHOE'S PEEFAOE. 
 
 This Biography was commenced about ten years after 
 the death o£ David Cox in 1859, and was carried on 
 towards completion as opportunity offered, and as the 
 Author felt disposed to pursue his labours. For a time 
 it was laid aside, circumstances occurring which led him 
 to think his work would not be required ; but the 
 exhibition of the Artist's productions in Liverpool, by 
 the Art Club in that town, in 1875, for the catalogue 
 of which the Author was invited to write an introduc- 
 tion, together with other considerations it is not neces- 
 sary to mention, induced him to take it up again, and 
 bring it into its present form. The MS. has been 
 revised, considerable additions have been made since it 
 was first written, and much has been re-composed. 
 
 From the Author's intimate friendship with 
 David Cox, during his residence at Harborne, and up 
 to the time of his death, he had frequent opportunities 
 of hearing from the Artist's own lips the particulars of 
 his history and artistic career, and of noting much that 
 exemplified his character and illustrated his genius. 
 He is also indebted to Cox's old friend and pupil, the late 
 Mr. Edward Everitt, of Birmingham ; to Mr. Charles 
 W. Radclyffe, another old and attached friend ; and to 
 others, for information respecting the Artist's early days. 
 
xii AUTHOIt'S PBEFACE. 
 
 Such matters as the Aiithor conceived would interest 
 the public regarding the uneventful life and career of a 
 man who was enthusiastically devoted to his art, who 
 lived in a quiet, unobtrusive manner, and was rarely 
 drawn aside from his beloved pursuit, he has noted 
 down, in the hope of affording pleasure to those who 
 may care to read the biography of an artist of acknow- 
 ledged genius, whose productions have done much to 
 elevate British art in the world's estimation ; and also 
 to aid as an encouragement to young aspirants for 
 renown who may be endeavouring to follow, though 
 they can scarcely hope to rival, David Cox in the same 
 profession. 
 
 WILLIAM HALL. 
 
 Mayfield, King's Heath, near Birmingham, 
 February, 1880. 
 
COIsTTEI^TS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 1783 TO 1804. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Birth, Parentage, and Early Years of David Cox — His Apprenticeship 
 to a Miniature Painter — Brush-washer and Scene-painter at the Bir- 
 mingham Theatre — W. C. Macready, the Tragedian . . .1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1804 TO 1814. 
 
 Removal to London — Marriage and Early Struggles — ^Appointed Drawing- 
 master at the Military College at Famham . . 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1814 TO 1827. 
 
 Residence at Hereford, and Work Done There — Drawing-hooks Puhlished 
 — Views of the City of Bath — Illustrations for the " History of "War- 
 wickshire" — First Trip to the Continent .... .28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1827 TO 1841. 
 
 Return to London, and Second Residence There — Professional Pursuits — 
 Another Continental Trip — Sketching Excursions into Yorkshire, 
 Derbyshire, to the Lakes, and Elsewhere — Takes Lessons in Oil- 
 painting from Miiller — Quits London for Harborne, near Birmingham 43 
 
^'iT CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 1841 TO 1845. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 Residence at Harbome — ^Artistic Pursuits — Sketching Trips into York- 
 shire and Wales, Conway, Llanhedr, Bettws-y-coed — Death of Mrs. 
 Cox . ... 63 
 
 CHAPTER TI. 
 
 1846, et seq. 
 
 The Flood at Corwen — Bettws-y-coed — The " Royal Oak " . 75 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Bettws-y-coed {continued) — Cox at the " Royal Oak " . .87 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Cox at Bettws-y-coed {continued) — Sketching Trips in the Vicinity — Bad 
 
 Weather ' . . . . lOO 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Work Done at Home — Cox's Industry and Self-reliance — Range of Suh- 
 
 jects — Characteristics of His Works — His Three Distinctive Styles . 117 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 HomeLife—" Friends in Council "—"The Skylark" . . . .131 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 His Methods of Painting in Water-Colour and in Oil . . . 145 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 Hie Position as an Artist — Serious Attack of Illness ... .155 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 1855. 
 
 Visit to Edinburgh — His Portrait Painted by Sir J. W. Gordon R A 
 
 Presentation of it at Metchley Abbey, Harbome — Engraved by S. 
 BelUn — Bust by Peter HoUins (posthumous) .... 107 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTEll XIV. 
 1858—9. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Last Visit to London, and to Bettws-y-coed — Illness and Death — Funeral 
 
 in Harbome Churchyard — Memorial Wmdow in the Church . 177 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Characteristics as a Man — Interior of his House — Dress and Appearance 190 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 His Artistic Characteristics and Distinguishing Merits . . 205 , 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Remarks in Conclusion — Influence of His Works and Genius on the Land- 
 scape Art of this Country, and on the Public Taste . . . 219 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Special Exhibitions of His Works — Liverpool Art Club Banquet . 226 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Supplementary Notes — Cox's Character and Habits — His Great Contem- 
 poraries — His Birmingham Friends — His Opiniona upon Art — 
 Extracts from His Letters — Prices of His Pictures — Present Collec- 
 tions of Them — Sales — Engravings — Chronology of His Life, &c. . 234 
 
DAVID COX. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1783 TO 1804. 
 
 The Birth, Parentage, and Early Years of David Cox — His Apprenticeship to a 
 Miniature Painter — Brush-washer and Scene-painter at the Birmingham 
 Theatre — ^W. 0. Macready, the Tragedian. 
 
 In reading the biography of an eminent man — as in 
 following the onward course of some famous river — it is 
 always delightful to note and dwell upon the first start 
 in existence ; to contemplate the fount and cradle of Hfe 
 and being — the circumstances of birth and parentage — 
 the surroundings of infancy — the indications of early 
 boyhood — ^the first inflection of the mind pointing to the 
 future course, long before that course has been marked 
 out by strong desire, by will, by moulding circumstance, 
 and augmented power, compelling it to take its final 
 direction. The stream — it may be — wells forth in 
 some sequestered spot — shady, obscure, untraced, and 
 unknown — bubbling up among stones and mosses, sur- 
 rounded with reeds and bracken, creeping for a time along 
 its tiny channel, just tinkling among the pebbles. After 
 a while, by numberless tributaries, its volume increases ; 
 it begins to grow stronger, and cheerily leaps along its 
 
2 DAVID COX. 
 
 bed, singing sweet songs as it goes ; nntU at lengtli it 
 swells and widens, and dashes impetuously on its way — 
 a mighty river — seen and known by all, bearing with its 
 course beauty aiid strength and blessing for all within 
 reach. It is pleasant in like manner to trace the life- 
 stream of one destined to become famous, from the cradle 
 of existence ; to note the surroundings of early days ; 
 to mark the first bias of the young mind indicating its 
 future and ultimate direction ; to note the impediments 
 in its way — the obstacles to be encountered and tri- 
 umphantly overcome by persistence, a stout heart, the 
 sense of power daily growing stronger, the consciousness 
 of success in view, and the prospect of a brilliant future, 
 and then the steady march forward to the end ! 
 
 David Cox, whose genius and whose exquisite tran- 
 scripts of Nature have earned for him a foremost place 
 among the creators of a School of English Water-Colour 
 Painters, was a native of Birmingham. He first saw 
 the light of day on the 29th of April, 1783. He was 
 bom of humble parents, in a very unpretending abode, 
 situated in Heath Mill Lane, Deritend — a suburb of the 
 great Midland metropolis. The house stood not very 
 far from a well-known ancient inn, called the " Old 
 Crown," stiU existing — a notable specimen of half- 
 timbered work, and which, as a mansion of considerable 
 importance, attracted the notice of Leland, when he 
 visited Birmingham in the reign of Henry VIII. Cox's 
 humble birthplace, however, and all the adjacent tene- 
 ments of that date, have been swept away to make room 
 for the requirements of our modern civilisation. Even 
 
HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 3 
 
 the street itself has disappeared ; nothing remains but its 
 name, and the picturesque half-timbered, heavy- gabled, 
 ancient inn, which for so many years has been a con- 
 spicuous object at its southern corner. 
 
 Joseph Cox, the father of David, was twice married. 
 By his first wife, Frances Walford, who was the 
 daughter of a farmer and miller of Birmingham — the 
 same Walford who built the windmill (remembered by 
 many) that crowned the summit of a gentle elevation 
 looking down upon one of the town's ancient road- 
 ways, called Holloway Head — ^he had two children — a 
 daughter, Mary Ann, who was married to Mr. Ward, 
 Professor of Music, residiug at or near Manchester ; and 
 David, the subject of this biography. His occupation 
 was that of a whitesmith, in contradistinction from that 
 of a blacksmith, or shoer of horses. He was a forger of 
 bayonets and gun-barrels, as weU as being a general 
 artificer in iron. His son has said that when he first 
 visited London to obtain employment as an artist, he 
 sometimes held in conversation the sentries who patrolled 
 before the Grovernment Offices, to, detect, if he could, his 
 father's private mark on the muskets they carried. It 
 was intended that David, when old enough to wield 
 hammer and file, should be brought up to his father's 
 trade ; and it is believed that for a short time he 
 actually worked at the anvil and bench; but he was a 
 weakly boy, not at all fitted for so laborious a craft. 
 The " Divinity that shapes our ends " was exemplified 
 in the hfe of young David Cox. He might have stood 
 at the anvil until old and grey-headed — a smith, like his 
 
4 DAVID GOX. 
 
 father ! Until the end of his days he might have been 
 a forger of implements of warfare — a maker of bolts and 
 bars — and have stood at the fire, girt with leather apron, 
 hammer or tongs in hand. But this was not to be. An 
 accident, sad at the time, but happy in its issue, 
 determined otherwise. In early youth, the lad stumbled 
 over a door-scraper in the evening dusk, and broke his 
 leg ; and this caused the poor little cripple to divert his 
 thoughts into another channel. Grreat were the lamen- 
 tations of his friends at this untoward accident, which 
 was looked on as a permanent misfortune. It was 
 evident that all ideas of David following his father's 
 business must be abandoned. He had, moreover, greatly 
 outgrown his strength, and the labour of the forge and 
 workshop was held to be too trying for a constitution 
 by no means robust. Some other occupation, o£ a 
 lighter kind, was therefore desired for him. The broken 
 Hmb compelled the boy to keep his bed for several 
 weeks, lying quiet and unmoved, till the fracture had 
 united; but so soon as he was permitted to sit up, 
 propped with pillows, for a short time, he began to cast 
 about for something with which to amuse himself, and 
 while away the weary hours. A few prints were given 
 him, to interest and occupy his mind. He had pre- 
 viously shown some cleverness with his pencil — just a 
 child's very small ability, frequently made so much of 
 by a fond parent's love — and he expressed a wish to 
 copy, with pen or pencil, some of the prints, for his 
 amusement. His friends compUed with the request, 
 and he was furnished with the necessary materials. 
 
SIS FIRST DRAWINGS: BOYISH EFFORTS. 5 
 
 Little David went to work with, a will, and soon pro- 
 duced two or three drawings, which mightily pleased 
 his parents, who no doubt thought them quite wonderful 
 for a child of his tender years. Seeing what he could 
 do, so quickly and so cleverly, a relative presented him 
 with a box of colours and some brushes. Oh, the happy 
 day ! Who does not recoUect his first colour-box, 
 and the pleasure of contemplating the rows of pretty 
 pigments which lay side by side, ready for useP 
 The young artist painted away with great delight and 
 perseverance, and in no long time achieved a number of 
 smaU successes. His friends were delighted with his 
 productions ; they even ventured to predict that in course 
 of time, with practice and study, he might, if he chose, 
 become an artist of celebrity. But they had many 
 misgivings in discussing the subject. We may conceive 
 the anxious debates which took place in the family circle 
 night after night, when David's future course came up 
 for consideration. Was it possible for him to maintain 
 himself respectably by his pencU, if he took up the 
 profession of a painter of pictures? Ought he to be 
 encouraged to follow the bent of his inclination in a 
 a pursuit which, in his surroundings, promised so little ? 
 We may well fancy the boy's parents discussing 
 his prospects, as he lay suffering from his broken limb, 
 and as the result of the discussion leaving them to 
 time and chance, he still going on executing the poor 
 little works of art which afforded him so much delight. 
 These humble achievements of his boyish skUl were 
 sometimes sold to friends for trifling sums, which 
 
6 DAVID OOX. 
 
 pleased his parents, and afforded tlie young painter 
 no small encouragement. Something must be done, 
 however, and therefore it was at length determined 
 that he should receive a few lessons in drawing at 
 a night school kept by Mr. Joseph Barber, of Bir- 
 mingham, a competent drawing-master and artist. With 
 the exception of two or three lessons, in after years, 
 from that admirable master of water-colours, Mr. John 
 Varley, the instruction David Cox received in drawing 
 whilst at this night-school of Mr. Barber's was aU 
 he had. For the rest he was indebted solely to him- 
 self — to the gifts with which he was endowed by 
 nature ; to the study of the works of masters of the 
 art which came in his wayj to a close, intelligent 
 observation of the beauties of nature ; to constant 
 practice, and to a stout heart. 
 
 The proficiency of the young artist under the in- 
 struction of Mr. Barber was considered so satisfactory, 
 that at the usual age he was apprenticed to a miniature- 
 painter in Birmingham, a man named Tieldler, and 
 by him was taught to execute subjects for lockets, 
 and for the lids of snuflF-boxes, which at that time 
 gave employment to many persons in the town. These 
 subjects were frequently taken from the pictures of 
 Teniers, Ostade, and other painters of the Dutch 
 School, and were views in Holland, with out-of-door 
 merry-makings ; cottage interiors, with boors drinking, 
 smoking, and playing at cards; quarrelling peasants, 
 armed with drawn knives and three-legged stools ; 
 heads of burgomasters, after Eembrandt; and subjects 
 
SCENE-FAINTEB AT TEE THEATRE. 7 
 
 of a similar kind. It may be taken for granted that 
 young David delighted in copying these pictures ; it 
 was an occupation congenial to his taste ; moreover, 
 it put a little money in his purse. He felt that he 
 was beginning to earn a living by his pencil, and 
 doubtless thought he saw his way to prosperity at no 
 distant period. But, unfortunately — or, looking at his 
 future career, shall we not rather say most fortu- 
 nately? — for him, before he had been very long ap- 
 prenticed, his master died. The poor man committed 
 suicide, and poor David was cast loose upon the world 
 without an occupation. What a blow to his towering 
 hopes and expectations this unlooked-for event must 
 have been ! No doubt he considered his once fair 
 prospects of becoming an artist had vanished for ever. 
 How long he remained in this sad position is uncertain, 
 but after a time, and through the instrumentality of a 
 relative — the same who had presented him with the 
 colour-box when confined to his bed with a broken 
 limb — ^he was offered employment at the Birmingham 
 Theatre, then under the management of the elder 
 Macready, as assistant to a M. de Maria, scene-painter 
 to the company, a person of considerable ability in his 
 line. Cox's work was to grind colours, wash brushes, 
 prepare canvas, and do what else in a general way 
 might be required in the scene-painter's loft. The offer 
 now made him was gladly accepted. He thought he 
 saw in the appointment an opportunity for further 
 advancement in the art he loved, and entered on his 
 duties with an eager relish for the work, looking 
 
S DAVID COX. 
 
 forward to the time when possibly he might become 
 as clever as his employer, and some day, perhaps, 
 master scene-painter himself. Little David laboured 
 assiduously in his new vocation, and watched with an 
 attentive eye De Maria's method of working, and all 
 the expedients to produce "effect" in his scenery, 
 of which afterwards David Cox was so great a master 
 himself. He thought highly of his employer's skill, 
 not only at that time, but to his latest days, and 
 often spoke of him in eulogistic terms, saying, in his 
 cheery way, "De Maria was a very clever feUow in- 
 deed ! " Many years after Cox had left the theatre, 
 when he had become a member of the Society of 
 Painters in Water-Colours, and an exhibitor in their 
 rooms, he was one day strolling through the gallery, 
 the Exhibition being then open, when he saw an elderly 
 gentleman, catalogue in hand, looking admiringly at 
 one of his drawings. Cox recognised in the visitor his 
 old master at the Birmingham Theatre, De Maria, and 
 addressed him by name, but was evidently forgotten. 
 Cox inquired if he did not remember " one David Cox, 
 a very young artist, who resided in Birmingham many 
 years ago ? " " What ! little David, who used to wash 
 brushes and grind colours for me at the theatre ? " 
 " Tes ; I am little David." " Did you make that 
 drawing ? " pointing to the one he had been admiring. 
 " I did," said Cox ; " I learned a great deal from yoM, 
 sir." ''' Then I have a great deal to learn from you 
 now !" rejoined the old man; and both master and pupil 
 were weU satisfied. 
 
PAINTS AN ACTRESS'S POBTBAIT. 9 
 
 After Cox had been employed some time in this 
 humble capacity at the theatre, he was suddenly and 
 unexpectedly called upon to try his " 'prentice hand " in 
 the production of a bit of original scenery. His master, 
 De Maria, was absent from the theatre on account of 
 Ulness ; a new piece was being prepared for the stage ; 
 and a portrait of the heroine, an important feature in 
 the performance, was required to be exhibited during the 
 play. Search was made among the scenery in stock, but 
 nothing suitable could be found. The manager was at 
 his wits' ends ; he knew not what to do. Young Cox, 
 seeing the dilemma Macready was in, stepped up to him 
 and said, " If he might be allowed to try, he thought he 
 could execute what was wanted." " Tou ! " said the 
 manager, with indignant surprise. " Yes," said David, 
 "I think I can do it." "Then try," rejoined the 
 manager; "ii must \>e done!" David, who, during his 
 apprenticeship to the miniature painters, had often 
 executed heads of a small size (one of which, most 
 beautifully painted, remains in the possession of his son) 
 went to work with a will, and soon produced what was 
 required. He attentively studied the actress who was 
 to personate the heroine of the piece, and had a sitting to 
 complete the likeness. The manager was much pleased 
 with his performance; and David was so delighted at 
 his success that when the play was acted on the first 
 night, he went into the gallery to see how his picture 
 looked across the theatre, and to hear the commenda- 
 tions bestowed upon it. His master, De Maria, also 
 complimented him on his skill. 
 
10 DAVID COX. 
 
 How long Cox remained discliarging the duties of 
 his very subordinate position is not exactly known, but 
 after a time De Maria resigned his appointment, and 
 David Cox was installed in his place. This was an 
 important step in the young artist's career ; it gave him 
 the opportunity of practice, which he specially needed. 
 With Macready and the players he travelled from town 
 to town, visiting Leicester, Sheffield, Manchester, and 
 other places. Occasionally he essayed his powers as a 
 performer — of course ia very humble parts; and once, 
 in the absence of the regular actor, he even ventured to 
 aspire so high as to undertake the important character 
 of pantaloon in a pantomime ! Although now head 
 scene-painter to Macready, his name, as being of no 
 account, was never mentioned in the bills. This on 
 one occasion gave him great annoyance. A new piece 
 was to be brought out ; large posters were placarded 
 about the town ; and advertisements appeared in the 
 papers announcing the names of the performers — all 
 "stars" of the first magnitude; with "entirely new 
 and most beautiful scenery" (the work of poor Cox), 
 painted by the unrivalled artist, Mr. Daubeney, of 
 London ! David Cox was completely ignored ! On 
 remonstrating with the manager, Macready flew into a 
 rage (he very often did), and told him to " go and be 
 hanged ! " " Who was he ? " " Did he suppose that 
 /lis name would draw the public ? " Cox's motto, 
 " Honour to whom honour is due ! " was laughed to 
 scorn, and he retired from " the manager's room " an 
 aggrieved and disappointed man. For some time, how- 
 
W. G. MACBEADT8 TOT THEATRE. 11 
 
 ever, he continued to follow the fortunes of Macready as 
 his principal scene-painter ; but his parents, fearing that 
 his moral character might suffer from his connection 
 with the players, importuned him to quit the theatre, 
 and give his attention to other pursuits. Cox was, 
 however, bound to Macready by articles of agreement 
 for a stipulated term, and the manager, unwilling to 
 forego his services, flatly refused to liberate him. Before 
 long David's mother again wrote a very pressing letter, 
 entreating him to return home. Cox dared not show 
 this letter to the manager, but read it to Mrs. Macready, 
 thinking doubtless that as a mother she would sympa- 
 thise with his mother's anxieties, and besought her to 
 use her influence with her husband to obtain his release. 
 Arguments and entreaties at length prevailed. The 
 wife's appeal soon brought about the desired result, and 
 Cox was set at liberty. 
 
 Young Macready, the eminent tragedian, was a boy 
 at Eugby School at the time that Cox was in his father's 
 employ, and had a small toy theatre constructed for his 
 amusement, for which Cox painted the requisite scenery. 
 One of these scenes represented a flock of sheep being 
 driven to market; it was fixed upon rollers, and by 
 turning a handle behind was made to move forward, so 
 that the sheep which disappeared on the one side quickly 
 came round upon the other, and the flock, to the delight 
 of the beholders, seemed interminable. This was the 
 contrivance of Cox, for which he received great praise 
 from Macready, junior. When, a few years before the 
 death of the artist, it was proposed that a portrait of 
 
12 DAVID COX. 
 
 him should be painted by an eminent hand, to be placed 
 in some public institution in his native town, and for 
 which purpose subscriptions were solicited from friends 
 and admirers, the author of this Memoir ventured to 
 apply to the great actor (among others) for assistance to 
 carry out the project, taking the liberty to remind him 
 of early days, and stating that David Cox, the famous 
 artist, in whose honour this proposal was made, was the 
 same person who, in the days of his boyhood, was colour- 
 grinder and afterwards scene-painter at his father's 
 theatre in Birmingham. The following reply was 
 received by the writer: — 
 
 Abergele, N. "Wales, July 3rd, 1855. 
 
 Sir, — In acknowledging your favour of the 28th June, forwarded 
 to me here, I beg to express the great pleasure I have in remember- 
 ing my early acquaintance with Mr. David Cox, and the gratification 
 it has afforded me to observe his rise to such distinguished eminence 
 in his art. 
 
 I beg you will do me the favour to convey the expression of my 
 admiration, with my best wishes, to your distinguished townsman ; 
 with which I beg to enclose my subscription. 
 
 I remaia, Sir, 
 
 Your very Obedient Servant, 
 
 W. C. Macreadt. 
 To Mr. Wm. Hall. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 1804 TO 1814. 
 
 Bemoval to London — ^Marriage and Early Straggles — ^Appointed Drawing- 
 master at the Military College at Faxnham. 
 
 After leaving Macready and tlie theatre, David Cox 
 spent some little time in Birmingham with his parents, 
 making sketches in the neighbourhood, and looking 
 about for some opening by which to earn a living by his 
 pencil. He had a strong desire to settle in London, 
 where he hoped to meet with encouragement in the pur- 
 suit of his art ; and having a prospect of some temporary 
 employment at Astley's Circus, he left his native town 
 in the year 1804 to seek his fortune in the metropolis. 
 On his arrival in London, accompanied by his mother, 
 the first thing done was to look for comfortable 
 lodgings, and these were met with in Lambeth, at the 
 house of a Mrs. Eagg, who had two daughters residing 
 with her, one of whom- — Mary Eagg — Cox was destined 
 to faU in love with, and eventually to marry. Cox's 
 practice as a scene-painter had rendered him expert in 
 the use of the pencil, and failing to obtain at Astley's 
 the employment he had expected, he resumed his old 
 occupation of making drawings, which he offered to the 
 London print-seUers. He also executed, for some of 
 the provincial theatres, commissions for scenery ; and 
 
14 DAVID COX. 
 
 there is still in existence, in the possession of Mr. 
 John Wood, tobacconist and dealer in pictures, of 
 Wolverhampton, a receipted bill of his, in which he 
 charges the manager of the then theatre at that place 
 with "310 square yards of scenery, at four shillings 
 per yard." 
 
 Cox's prices for the small drawings he sold at this 
 time were curiously low. Two guineas per dozen was 
 his regular charge for subjects in Indian ink or sepia, 
 which were disposed of by the dealers to country 
 drawing masters chiefly, who visited London twice a 
 year to purchase " copies " for the use of their pupils. 
 Another water-colour painter with whom Cox formed 
 an intimacy at that time — the great architectural 
 draughtsman, Samuel Prout, — ^was then hkewise occupied 
 in a similar manner ; and it was arranged between them, 
 in order to avoid collision, that they should offer their 
 productions at different shops. Cox keeping to one shop 
 and Prout to the other, as at that period there were 
 only two places of any note at which a sufficiently 
 large stock of drawings was kept to afford a choice 
 to customers. A few of these early works, by both 
 artists, are still to be met with. In wandering through 
 the streets of London, Cox made many a halt at the 
 windows in which pictures were exhibited for sale, 
 studying attentively the best of those productions, and 
 gathering hints for his own practice. Many a 
 pleasurable half-hour, as he has often said, did he 
 spend in this manner. The drawings of Havell and 
 John Varley he greatly admired, especially those by 
 
TAKES LESSONS FROM JOHN YABLEY. 15 
 
 the latter artist ; and lie determined out of his scanty 
 earnings, if possible, to obtain a few lessons from 
 Varley. The terms were half a guinea a lesson — a 
 large sum to Cox in those days — but he was fully 
 aware of the value of such instruction, and resolved 
 to devote the little money he could spare to be put 
 at the outset in the right way. Accordingly he called 
 upon Yarley, and received one or two lessons, for 
 which he paid the customary fee. On going again 
 for another lesson Varley said to him, " What is your 
 object in coming to me for instruction? Are you not 
 an artist? " "I am trying to be one," replied Cox. "Oh, 
 then come whenever you please and see me work," re- 
 joined Yarley ; " I will take no more money from you." 
 Cox always expressed a high opinion of Varley 's abili- 
 ties, and often spoke with emotion of his great kindness 
 to him at that time. 
 
 Notwithstanding the modest manner in which 
 David Cox spoke of himself to Varley, as " trying to 
 be an artist," he had firmly resolved in his own mind to 
 become one, if assiduous study, labour, and perseverance, 
 could make him one. He spared no pains to inform 
 himself of the principles on which the great masters had 
 worked ; he bought engravings from their productions, 
 which he attentively studied ; and he diligently copied 
 pictures as opportunity afforded. He told the writer 
 that he once made a copy of a fine landscape by Caspar 
 Poussin, of whose works he had a high opinion. The 
 picture could not be removed from the owner's posses- 
 sion, and he went day after day until his task was 
 
16 DAVID COX. 
 
 completed, painting under great difficulties in a dealer's 
 
 The scenery of the Thames aflforded many sub- 
 jects for Cox's pencil; and he worked industriously 
 in sketching from nature in the environs of London, 
 picking up quaint rustic bits, and drawing picturesque 
 old buildings, then found in every direction, as well as 
 in delineating the more captivating features of rural 
 landscape. Many drawings of this character were made 
 during the summer and autumn of 1804. 
 
 In the following year he took his first trip into 
 North Wales, and visited some of the most romantic 
 spots in the Principality. The sketches he made on 
 that occasion were chiefly in outline, and in Indian Ink. 
 The author has possessed one of the pen-and-ink draw- 
 ings Cox made on this journey. The subject is a pic- 
 tiuresque bridge spanning a river ; a rocky height on the 
 left, a distant mountain, and some bushes and weeds in 
 the foreground. On the back is written, " Half a mile 
 from Dinas Mowddy, July 17th, 1805. D. Cox." This 
 sketch, interesting from its early date, is in the posses- 
 sion of one of the artist's enthusiastic admirers, Mr. 
 Holbrook Gaskell, of Liverpool, to whom the author pre- 
 sented it. Cox made a considerable number of sketches 
 during that first trip into Wales, from which, on his 
 return to London, he executed more elaborate drawings 
 for sale. In the succeeding year, 1806, he again visited 
 North Wales, accompanied by one or two brother artists, 
 and made drawings in colours ; but his colours were few 
 and simple, and his efiects of course were not very striking. 
 
MARRIES: SETTLES AT BULWIOS : 1808. 17 
 
 Whilst earning a precarious subsistence by making 
 drawings for sale to the dealers, and sometimes painting 
 scenery for the provincial theatres, David Cox fell in 
 love with and married the eldest daughter of his land- 
 lady. Miss Mary Eagg. This was in the year 1808. 
 By her he had one child, the present Mr. David Cox. 
 Mary Eagg made an excellent and loving wife. She 
 was somewhat older than her husband ; her health was 
 not strong; but she had intellectual tastes, and en- 
 couraged Cox in his labours, and gave him steady and 
 helpful support in the many trying struggles of his 
 early married life. She was fond of painting, more 
 especially of the works of her husband, and the author 
 has seen drawings in the artist's possession which he 
 declined to part with because they were favourites of 
 his wife's, and had the name of " Mary Cox " written 
 upon them. 
 
 Shortly after his marriage he took a small cottage 
 in the neighbourhood of Dulwich, and there resided 
 several years, making drawings on the Common — at 
 that time the frequent resort of the gipsy tribes — and 
 from the surrounding scenery. In fact, he scoured the 
 country in every direction in search of subjects on which 
 to exercise his skill. Occasionally he paid a visit to 
 Birmingham, to see his parents, who at that time re- 
 sided in Hill Street, a short distance from the top, on 
 the right-hand side, where the present Post-ofl&ce now 
 stands. Whilst staying there he made sketches in the 
 country aroimd, picking up many picturesque subjects ; 
 and he also gave a few lessons in drawing to such as 
 
18 DAVID OOX. 
 
 were desirous of availing themselves of the services of 
 a skilful practitioner. Mr. Edward Everitt, afterwards 
 a weU-known Birmingham artist, was one of those who 
 received instruction from Cox when visiting his father 
 and mother. Mr. Everitt has told the writer that, on 
 one occasion, he was taking a lesson at the house in 
 Hill Street, David Cox, junior, being then an infant 
 and sleeping in his cot in the same apartment, when 
 the child suddenly woke up and began to cry. No one 
 else being there to attend to him. Cox left his seat, 
 saying, " Excuse me, Edward ; I must go and hush the 
 baby." With varying fortunes Cox pursued his art. 
 His struggles to acquire a reputation, and even to live, 
 were sufficiently trying, but he stoutly persisted in his 
 endeavours ; and although often disappointed, and some- 
 times greatly cast down, he was never turned aside 
 from his aim. In aU his difficulties and discourage- 
 ments he had faith in himself. Even when his fortunes 
 were at the lowest point — the sale of his little drawings 
 at the shops providing but a scanty subsistence — he 
 contrived to keep up his spirits tolerably well, and was 
 never disheartened for long. Once, however, his means 
 were nearly exhausted, and the prospect before him 
 was gloomy in the extreme. He could sell no draw- 
 ings for a time, and was greatly troubled in mind. His 
 good wife, seeing him so low-spirited, suggested that 
 he should "try something else." "Suppose you were 
 to teach perspective, David?" This idea, somewhat 
 startling at first, on reflection commended itself to him, 
 as he thought there were people about — builders and 
 
TRIES TO TEAGE PEBSPECTIVE. 19 
 
 others — who might like to know a little of the rules of 
 perspective to enable them to draw plans and elevations. 
 Accordingly he resolved to make the experiment, but, 
 as he was not proficient in the science himself, it was 
 necessary that he should become better acquainted with 
 it before undertaking to instruct others. It has been 
 said that the main secret of success in teaching is to be 
 "just one lesson in advance of the pupil." Now, Cox 
 was exactly in that position — or, at all events, fully 
 resolved to be so ; but to keep ahead in his instructions 
 it was desirable to look into some standard treatise on 
 the subject, and to master the more advanced rules. 
 He was advised that the best book for his purpose 
 was " Euclid's Elements of Geometry ; " he therefore 
 hastened into London to buy a copy. On returning 
 home, he sat down to study Euchd, but had not pro- 
 ceeded far in his task before his brain became confused 
 and his sight somewhat dim. He felt that the difficul- 
 ties he had encountered were quite insurmountable. 
 Problems were not in his way. In fact, he could make 
 nothing at all of "Euclid." This was unfortunate, 
 as, having previously hung in his window a card, 
 with the notification "Perspective Taught Here," neatly 
 printed upon it, he had received one application 
 for lessons from a neighbouring carpenter, or small 
 builder, who thought that acquaintance with the rules 
 of perspective would be useful to him in his business. 
 The new pupil was coming on the following morning to 
 have his first lesson. Cox was in a great flurry, and 
 entirely at a loss what to do. He turned over the pages 
 c2 
 
20 DAVID COX. 
 
 of Euclid again and again, but to no avail. He was 
 distracted and lost. The more he studied the more 
 confused he became. At lengtb, in a towering rage, 
 he took up the volume, and exclaiming, " Confound 
 Euclid ! " flung it "with such violence against the wall 
 (a thin fragile affair o£ lath and plaster, constituting a 
 kind of inner wall to the outer one of brick), that it 
 went clean through, and falling between the two, 
 disappeared irrecoverably. " And there it is now ! " 
 Cox used to say, when in great glee he told the story in 
 after years. 
 
 One of Cox's earliest patrons, when he took up 
 teaching as a profession, was Colonel Windsor, after- 
 wards Earl of Plymouth. The Colonel had greatly 
 admired some drawings which he had seen at one of the 
 London shops, and was desirous of taking lessons from 
 the artist ; but it was with difficulty that he obtained from 
 the dealer a very indefinite address. He was told that the 
 artist was from the country, and resided at a distance 
 from London, somewhere near the Common at Dulwich. 
 This vague direction was, however, sufficient for the 
 Colonel, who managed to find out the whereabouts of 
 Cox. It was on a Sunday morning, just before dinner- 
 time, when a knock was heard at the door of Cox's 
 cottage, and a gentleman entered who inquired if the 
 person he was addressing was the artist of certain 
 water-colour drawings which he had seen in London. 
 Satisfied on this point, he expressed a wish to receive a 
 few lessons, and, terms being agreed on, he fixed a day to 
 call again for the purpose. But (as Cox used to narrate 
 
BEGINS AS A TBAOEEB OF BBAWING. 21 
 
 the story) tte Colonel stayed so long, chatting about 
 art and other matters, that the neck o£ mutton which 
 was roasting at the fire for dinner was burnt to a cinder, 
 and filled the house with an intolerable stench. The 
 Colonel, however, being so absorbed in the subjects of 
 the conversation, never perceived the artist's difficulty, or 
 took any notice of the mishap he was causing in Cox's 
 domestic arrangements. Dinner was completely spoiled 
 when the new pupil took his departure ; but the Colonel 
 afterwards made ample amends for his thoughtlessness ; 
 he was so pleased with the instruction he received, and 
 with Cox's simple, engaging manners, that he gave him 
 introductions to several ladies of high position, who 
 also took lessons, the profits of which soon placed the 
 artist in more comfortable circumstances. His terms 
 at first were five shillings a lesson, but these, by the 
 advice of Colonel Windsor's mother, were speedily 
 raised, and he received from his pupils ten shillings for 
 an hour's instruction. 
 
 When the Society of Painters in Water-Colours 
 was first formed — in the year 1805 — .the year following 
 Cox's arrival in London from the country, it may 
 be presumed that he was too immature an artist, 
 and too Httle known, to have attracted the atten- 
 tion of that body, and therefore had no thought of 
 offering himself as a member. But he was induced 
 by some means to join a similar society, which, 
 perhaps from a spirit of opposition, had sprung 
 into existence, and which also held an annual exhibition 
 at the West End of London ; and for a brief season he 
 
22 DAVID COX. 
 
 remained a responsible member of that body. His 
 connection with this society was in some respects a most 
 unfortunate circumstance for him. The art-loving 
 pubhc o£ the day did not suflSciently appreciate the 
 endeavours of the members to instruct and delight 
 them ; the exhibitions did not cover their expenses ; the 
 Society could not pay its way ; and arrears of rent so 
 accumulated that the landlord would wait no longer. 
 Accordingly he levied a distraint on the contents of the 
 gallery, and the whole of poor Cox's drawings exhibited 
 that year, with some by other members, were swept 
 away to satisfy the claim. This was a heavy blow to 
 Cox, who could by no means afford to lose the proceeds 
 of so much labour as these drawings represented. He 
 ■did not recover from the annoyance of the loss for a 
 long time, and certainly he never forgot it. It made 
 him exceedingly reluctant to connect himself with any 
 similar body whereby he might incur the slightest risk 
 of losing money. When, in after years, he came to end 
 his days near his native town, his brother artists of 
 Birmingham wished him to become a member of their 
 Society, but he decidedly refused to accept any re- 
 sponsibility, although frequently he exhibited in their 
 rooms, and he was accordingly elected an honorary 
 member — the Society being, of course, glad to have 
 him amongst them on any terms, his name and fame 
 adding greatly to the strength of the Association. 
 
 It was about nine years after the untoward event 
 above mentioned that David Cox became a member of 
 the Society of Painters in Water-Colours, of which he 
 
ELECTED TO THE WATEB-COLOUB SOCIETY -. 1813. 23 
 
 continued an ornament until the day of his death.* It 
 is presumed that hefore he joined them, he satisfied 
 himself there was no probability of such another 
 disaster as that which had previously befallen him. 
 The Society was highly popular, and became a pros- 
 perous body. It had considerable funds at its disposal, 
 a portion of the profits of its exhibitions being set apart 
 to enable its members, in succession, to make a special 
 drawing — called the " Premium Drawing " — for the 
 annual exhibition. Cox lived to receive a fuU share of 
 these profits, averaging probably something near thirty 
 pounds each time. The author has had repeated oppor- 
 tunities of witnessing the progress of these " premium 
 drawings," and some of them were very fine works 
 indeed. 
 
 David Cox, on the whole, passed a very happy life 
 whilst residing in the cottage at Dulwich, which he 
 occupied for a period of about five years. Much of his 
 time was spent in sketching from the surrounding 
 scenery, and in making drawings of the picturesque 
 views and objects which were to be found along the 
 course of the Thames. He delighted, in the , wharves 
 and old buildings, the piers and bridges, the varieties of 
 water-craft lying at anchor, or crowding the river with 
 life and interest. He loved to depict the noble towers 
 of Westminster Abbey, and the stately trees of the 
 Park. He strolled with keen delight along the river- 
 banks towards the country, making studies among the 
 green meadows studded with wild flowers and filled with 
 
 * The election took place in 1813. 
 
24 BAVID COX. 
 
 browsing cattle, and taking note of the boats and barges, 
 with sails trimmed to catch the breeze, which he 
 beheld gliding along the silvery stream. He frequently 
 wandered as far as Eton and Windsor, recording peeps ' 
 of the College, and storing his portfolios with views of/ 
 the Castle, which for him had ever a most powerful 
 charm. It was whilst so occupied, industriously pur- 
 suing his art, that he had the very great misfortune to 
 be " drawn " for the Militia. This event gave him the( 
 utmost concern, as it threatened to interfere seriously . 
 with his pursuits ; and, moreover, he had an unconquer-^ 
 able aversion to any form of military life. But therf 
 appeared to be no way of escape for him; probabljr 
 he had no means for purchasing a substitute ; serve be 
 therefore must. The day soon arrived on which he was 
 to be sworn in. Listening at the foot of the office 
 stairs before going up, he was terrified at the proceed- 
 ings. There were a large number of persons who had 
 been drawn like himself, and he heard all kinds of 
 reasons assigned by the unwilling why they should be 
 excused from service. A neighbour of his was one of 
 these; and Cox distinctly heard him tell the most 
 deliberate falsehood to get free, which had the desired 
 effect, for his name was struck off the list. When 
 Cox's turn came to be sworn in, he told the official what 
 were his position and prospects ; that it would be his 
 utter ruin if he were taken from the pursuit of his art ; 
 and urged every reason he could think of why he should 
 be released. All was of no avail ; he was told that he 
 must serve. This so exasperated Cox, that he exclaimed 
 
DRAWN FOB THE MILITIA : FAJRNHAM COLLEGE. 25 
 
 to the officer, " You would have let me ofE if /had told 
 you a lie," and then rushed from the place in disgust. 
 He was now determined that he would not serve, and 
 so he quitted his residence at once, hiding in various 
 parts of the country, until he considered it fairly safe to 
 venture back again. For a long time he was in constant 
 dread of being apprehended as a deserter. 
 
 In his anxiety to improve his position — ^for during 
 his residence at Dulwich his struggles for a subsistence 
 had been many and trying — ^he was induced to apply 
 for the appointment of drawing-master at the Military 
 College at Famham, a post then vacant. This ap* 
 pointment he obtained; but, in consequence, he was 
 compelled to break up his pleasant country home, to 
 send his wife to her mother, and his son to his father 
 in Birmingham, and go into residence at the College. 
 This was a mortification to him, but he resolved to 
 endure it, if possible, for a time. His remuneration 
 was good ; he took rank as captain, with a servant to 
 wait upon him; those he associated with were gentle- 
 manlike companions ; and several of his pupils greatly 
 distinguished themselves in after life. The illustrious 
 Sir William Napier, author of the " History of the 
 Peninsular War," was one of those who acquired their 
 knowledge of drawing from David Cox. This appoint- 
 ment promised in no long time to become more 
 lucrative. Cox was esteemed by the Grovernor, and 
 much liked by the officers whom he instructed. But he 
 soon tired of the dulness of the daily routine, and chafed 
 at the restraint put upon his movements. He felt that 
 
26 DAVID COX. 
 
 he was altogether in a wrong position, and longed for 
 freedom ; desiring with feverish eagerness to return to 
 his old pursuits — to range wherever he pleased over the 
 pleasant fields, by the brook and river-sides, or down 
 the sweet green lanes, which he had so often traversed 
 in search of subjects for his pencil. There was that in 
 his looks which indicated to those about him that he 
 was ill at ease ; and the Governor inquired if anything 
 could be done to make him more comfortable ; but Cox 
 assured Sir Howard Douglas that he could never be 
 happy in his situation, and that he must leave the 
 College. With much regret, his resignation was ac- 
 cepted; in a short time he bade adieu to friends and 
 pupils at Famham, and betook himself to more con- 
 genial pursuits. On reviewing his life at the College 
 during the twelve months of his residence there, he felt 
 that on the whole it had rendered him service, in 
 strengthening, by its disciplinary rules and regulations, 
 his mind and character ; his time had therefore by no 
 means been thrown away. Besides, he had been enabled 
 to put by a little money out of the payment received, 
 which was extremely useful to him, providing a fund on 
 which to draw for the support of those near and dear 
 until some favourable turn of affairs brought him 
 prosperity. He at once, on leaving the College, re- 
 joined his wife at her mother's house in London, 
 and for the next twelve months busied himself in 
 sketching, as before, and in making finished drawings 
 for exhibition and sale. 
 
 After the lapse of about a year Cox began to look 
 
BEMOVAL FROM LONDON TO HEBEFOBD -. 1814. 27 
 
 about for some source of permanent income, for the 
 mere sale of drawings was insufficient. An advertise- 
 ment in one of the London papers attracted him. A 
 lady who kept a girls' school in the city of Hereford 
 was in want of a master to teach her pupils drawing. 
 A salary of £100 a year was offered, with the oppor- 
 tunity of teaching elsewhere, and of taking private 
 pupils, when the master's services were not required at 
 the school. Cox thought this situation would exactly 
 suit him. Besides reasons economical and domestic, 
 which at that time had great weight with him, he 
 knew that he should at Hereford be in the midst of 
 most beautiful scenery, which would be of the greatest 
 advantage to him, and also that he should be near to 
 his beloved Wales, which had the strongest hold on his 
 affections. He accordingly wrote to the lady, who 
 came up to London for an interview. She approved 
 of his specimens — liked his appearance and manners — 
 and being quite satisfied as to his character -and respect- 
 ability, he was engaged to fill the situation. So, as 
 soon as the necessary arrangements c6uld be made, 
 towards the close of the year 1814 to Hereford he 
 went.* 
 
 * The lady was a Miss Croueher: the school was called the Gate 
 House, situate in Widemarsh Street. — ^Ed. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 1814 TO 1827. 
 
 Residence at Hereford, and Work done there— Drawing-booka published— 
 Views of the CSty of Bath— Illustrations for the "History of Warwickshire" 
 — First Trip to the Continent. 
 
 Cox's removal to Hereford was an important step in 
 his life. The first thing he had to do on arriving in 
 that city was to choose a house ; hut his means being 
 scanty at that time (in fact, he had to accept a loan 
 from a kind pupil — a lady — to enable him to remove 
 from London) he was compelled to fix on a dwelling 
 of a very unpretending description. The cottage he 
 selected was one he had seen on a previous visit to 
 Hereford. It was very picturesque — pretty to look at 
 — -just such an one as an artist would like to paint, 
 but it was situated at the edge of a wood, a consider- 
 able distance from the city, which was very inconvenient 
 in many respects, and moreover, had stone floors, which 
 were found to be cold, and were sometimes damp. 
 Cox passed the first winter in this humble abode, and 
 was glad when the dreary season had gone by. He 
 used to say that in wild weather, when the stormy 
 winds were rushing through the trees at the back of 
 the house, especially in the dead of the night, his 
 sensations were anything but cheering. So soon as 
 spring arrived he looked out for another dwelling 
 
EI8 FIB8T HOUSE AT HEBEFOBB. 29 
 
 place, and eventually found one more to his mind, a 
 good deal nearer th.e city. There he stayed a year or 
 two, and then removed to a cottage which he liked 
 much better, and which, from the name of the owner, 
 he called Parry's Cottage, situated in a pleasant lane, 
 very quiet, and very pretty. The rent was low, and 
 the accommodation somewhat limited, but Cox, by 
 agreement with the landlord, spent some money in 
 additions and improvements — a larger room in which 
 to paint, was one of the additions — and made the cot- 
 tage more suitable to his requirements. It had a 
 thatched roof, which added to its picturesque appear- 
 ance, and the garden attached to it was of a fair size, 
 and well stocked with fruit trees. This was a great 
 attraction to Cox, who always loved a good garden, 
 and he spent his leisure time in it much to his satisfac- 
 tion. In the front of the house was a small garden 
 also, which was filled with flowers of the kinds that Cox 
 most cared for, and these in summer made a beautiful 
 show. In this pleasant habitation the artist continued 
 to reside until he had saved sufficient money to build a 
 house of his own. 
 
 David Cox entered on his duties at the Ladies' 
 School almost as soon as he arrived in Hereford ; and 
 then commenced a long period of fagging and hard 
 work. His time not being fuUy occupied with the 
 school pupUs, he took an engagement as drawing master 
 at the Hereford Grammar School, which appointment 
 he held, although the remuneration was small, for 
 several years. He also taught at schools in some of 
 
30 DAVID COX. 
 
 the neighbouring towns, besides receiving private pupils 
 to whom he gave lessons, amongst them being a young 
 man of the name of Ince, who became, in after years, 
 an artist of some repute. In this way he toiled on for 
 a long time, often heart-sick and weary of his task, but 
 he was slowly making a little money, and feeling his 
 way to a more prosperous condition. His long walks 
 to and from the places where he taught drawing, fre- 
 quently caused him much fatigue, and at one time he 
 was induced to buy a pony in order to save his legs. 
 He often amused his friends by describing the freaks 
 of this pony, which previously had -belonged to an 
 apothecary, and was accustomed to go rounds with 
 the lad who took out the medicines to residences in 
 the neighbourhood. Having so many times been em- 
 ployed on this business he knew the connection well, and 
 needed no intimation where to stop. This knowledge 
 had not forsaken the pony when Cox became his owner ; 
 and when the drawing-master mounted him to go to 
 his teaching, he fancied that he was taking out medi- 
 cines still. Accordingly, often during the journey he 
 pulled up short at somebody's door, where he had been 
 used to deliver the piUs and lotions, and his rider had 
 much difficulty in getting him to proceed. On one 
 occasion. Cox was actually obliged to dismount, hitch 
 the bridle on to a gate, and mak© a pretence of going 
 up to the house before the pony could be persuaded to 
 budge another inch. These erratic movements did not 
 altogether suit his new owner, who occasionally was 
 near losing his seat, whenever unexpectedly the pony 
 
SKETGHING T0UB8 NEAB EEBEFOBD. 31 
 
 dashed off at a tangent from the direct course; and 
 consequently he was disposed of, and Cox resolved to 
 walk as before. 
 
 The scenery around Hereford was a source of great 
 delight to Cox. Early and late, whenever opportunity 
 offered, he busied himself in sketching. In the fertile 
 meadows that skirted the beautiful rivers Lugg and 
 "Wye, he might have been seen, almost any day during 
 fine weather, plying his industrious pencU. These 
 studies made a lasting impression upon him. His mind 
 was stored with the most captivating images, incidents, 
 and effects, often .recurring in after years to his recollec- 
 tion, to be made use of again and again, and always 
 with renewed pleasure. The city itself attracted him 
 greatly ; it afforded many picturesque subjects -. quaint 
 old houses, and quiet street views, which he drew with 
 much effect. He also occasionally made excursions 
 down the "Wye, and obtained subjects for drawings, 
 which he elaborated for sale in the exhibitions, and to 
 the London dealers. Some of these were very good for 
 the period at which they were produced, but they did 
 not always find ready purchasers. Money, at the close 
 of the great French war, was not abundant ; and the 
 artist had not then discovered his strength, or acquired 
 the command over colour and effect which afterwards 
 established his fame. Wales — dear old "Wales ! — being 
 near at hand, frequently enticed him over the border 
 into her pleasant valleys and her grand mountain ranges. 
 There he worked hard, always returning from his 
 excursions with his portfolios filled with sketches and 
 
32 DAVID COX. 
 
 memoranda for future use. The finished results of these 
 studies he every year carried to London, as there was little 
 demand for them in Hereford, and disposed of them to 
 his former patrons, or in the exhibitions of his society. 
 Some he sold on his way to town, in Birmingham, 
 staying for a short time with his old friends the 
 Everitts, or with Mr. WiUiam Eadclyffe, the engraver. 
 The following letter, addressed to the latter gentleman, 
 is interesting, as showing the difficulty Cox had in 
 disposing of his drawings of a larger size, which at that 
 time the art-loving public were by no means eager to 
 possess, moderate as was their price. Mention is like- 
 wise made in the letter of the cottage Cox was then 
 about to build at Hereford on some freehold land he 
 had purchased : 
 
 Hereford, June 19th, 1824. 
 
 Dear Eadclyffe, — I was greatly disappointed you did not 
 extend your journey to Hereford when at Cheltenham ; such another 
 chance may not occur for a great length of time. And to get you to 
 leave yotrr business at Birmingham to come over purposely, is quite 
 out of my expectation. However, I must forgive you this time, but 
 it is quite as much as I can, and perhaps you will make amends, and 
 come over this summer. I wish you would say as much ; it would 
 give me great pleasure, I assure you. ... I am much gratified 
 with your approval of my works that are in the exhibition. It is some 
 consolation ; though to have sold them would have been much more 
 agreeable. You ask me the price I should charge to you. [This was 
 for a large-size drawing then being exhibited.] I am sorry to tell 
 you that I put it into the exhibition at so low a price, thinking by 
 that of making sale certain, that I cannot sell it for less than £35 ; 
 the price in the room is 35 guineas. If I had supposed it would 
 not have sold, I would have asked 60 guineas ; but I could not 
 live at the price I have asked, and shall make but few large draw- 
 
BUILDS A HOUSE FOB HIMSELF. 33 
 
 ings, on account of the few purchasers. T intend to make small 
 drawings, and perhaps one large each year, as the Society have 
 voted me the premium of thirty guineas for next exhibition, and I 
 must, of course, be thinking of a subject. Perhaps you can suggest 
 one to me. I ■will make you a few small drawings this summer, and 
 send them over for your selection. I have none by me, and have 
 orders for more than my leisure time will allow of my making 
 between now and Christmas. That comes of exhibiting in London, 
 or else it would not answer ; but I will attend to making you some 
 soon. I hope you may like the small drawing sent, and hope it will 
 be in good time. I preferred making it in colours^ and would have 
 made one in sepia also, but had not time, for since my return I have 
 had to make up loss with my pupils, by giving them double lessons. 
 
 This week I shall lay the first stone of my cottage. I have 
 already got the foundation dug out, and the well-sinkers have got 
 five yards down, three of which are stone, and very tiresome, but 
 hope they will overcome all obstacles, and finish it in six or eight; 
 weeks. My house I hope also to have roofed in in ten weeks, so 
 that you wiU find that it is small, but it will be large enough to 
 receive a friend at any time ; and I shall have a painting-room 
 nineteen feet by thirteen feet and ten feet in height. This room is 
 my principal object for building, as where I now live is so smaU that 
 every drawing I make is made in a small parlour where we take our 
 meals, and see any one that calls. I hope to see Birmingham this 
 summer, perhaps in a few weeks, when I hope to find yourself, Mrs. 
 Eadclyffe, and family, quite well. . . . Pray how goes on the 
 " Warwickshire 1 " [An illustrated work then in hand, for which 
 Mr. Eadclyffe was engraving the plates, and Cox had been engaged 
 to make some of the drawings.] I did not see any other number out 
 when I was in town. Are aU the subjects disposed of yet? If tou 
 should have occasion to write to me again soon, say how the arts go 
 on in Birmingham ; or any hews you can collect. 
 
 Believe me, dear Radclyfie, yours truly, 
 
 David Cox 
 
 Whilst in London, during his annual visits. Cox 
 embraced the opportunity of giving a few lessons to 
 
 D 
 
34 DAVID COX. 
 
 some of liis former pupils, who were glad to avail them- 
 selves of his assistance, and by so doing increased his 
 income. By persevering industry he was enabled in a 
 few years to carry out the project on which he had long 
 set his affections — viz., to build himself a house after 
 his own mind. Finding himself in sufficient funds to 
 accomplish this object, he determined on making his own 
 . designs, and erecting a pretty little cottage on some land 
 he had purchased in a delightful situation jnst at the 
 edge of the city, on the brow of an eminence called Ail- 
 stone Hill. This cottage residence (a drawing of which 
 the author has seen) was designed with all an artist's 
 taste for the picturesque. It had a thatched roof over- 
 hanging the walls, with a verandah, also thatched, and 
 running nearly round the building, about which were 
 trailed roses and flowering creeping-plants. There was a 
 carriage-drive at front, in the midst of which stood an 
 ash, that gave its name to the house — "Ash-tree House;" 
 -^and behind was a garden of fair dimensions, in course 
 of time doubtless well filled with good things for the 
 table. Trees of various kinds clustered at the back of 
 the cottage, around the garden sides, and in summer- 
 time made a pleasant shadow with their leaves. Al- 
 together it was a very charming abode, admired by all 
 who passed it. On Cox quitting Hereford for good, 
 not more than two years after he had completed the 
 cottage, he met with a ready purchaser for it at the 
 sum of nearly one thousand pounds. No doubt he 
 spent a very happy time in his new habitation. He 
 was visited occasionally by old and esteemed friends 
 
PVBLI8SES BBAWING-B00K8 : 1814 AND 1825; 35 
 
 from Birmingham — Mr. Edward Everitt and Mr. W. 
 Eadclyffe — 'both, of whom purchased some of his Works, 
 and went on sketching excursions with him in the 
 neighbouring district, adown the Wye, and in other 
 parts of the country. From his own experience of such 
 journeys in after years, the writer knows this must have 
 been for Cox a happy time indeed. 
 
 It was during his residence at Hereford that David 
 Cox published, for the use of art students, two books of 
 lessons, illustrated by himself. Some of the drawings 
 were in outline only, for beginners ; some were in imita- 
 tion of sepia or Indian ink ; whilst others showed his 
 method of working in colours. These works were 
 brought out by Messrs. Fuller of London, and were 
 considered amongst the best of their kind. The first 
 that was published was entitled, " A Treatise on Land- 
 scape Painting and Effect' in "Water Colours." It was 
 followed several years afterwards by another work, 
 entitled, " The Young Artist's Companion or Drawing 
 Book." * Many of the illustrations are very excellent, 
 and the plates were etched by Cox's own hand. At the 
 present time copies of the first issue of these publications 
 are sold for considerable sums. Doubtless both these 
 works were found of great service to students, as the 
 Messrs. Fuller published a second edition of them — or 
 of the first of them — after a while. Such of the plates 
 
 * The former of these -works was published in 1814, and the latter in 
 1825 ; both by Messrs. FuUer, of Rathbone Place. They also published 
 the " Views of Bath," in 1820. In 1840, the same publishers issued a 
 new edition of the " Landscape Painting ; " but Cox made no new 
 drawings for it. — Ed. 
 
 d2 
 
36 BAVIB COX. 
 
 as were worn were re-touclied, and the work was brought 
 out in monthly numbers. In the literary part Cox was 
 assisted by some one more experienced than himself ; 
 the writer is under the impression that he said it was 
 " by a clergyman." 
 
 Cox also made, whilst in Hereford, a series of six 
 drawings, "Views of the City of Bath," which were 
 engraved and published also by Messrs. FuUer. These 
 drawings, for the period at which they were executed, 
 were exceedingly clever. One of them, " A View of the 
 Town Hall and Abbey," has been in the author's posses- 
 sion ; and another, " The Pump Eoom," he has seen, 
 and considers a very skilful work. There are numerous 
 figures in it, giving a good idea of the people who 
 frequented that fashionable watering-place at the com- 
 mencement of the present century. This series was 
 brought out about the year 1817, and the artist received 
 from the publishers the very modest sum of four guineas 
 each drawing. Cox also drew some of the pubHc 
 buildings and quaint old houses of Hereford, which, were 
 lithographed or etched by himself. The Town Hall, 
 with a number of figures at the front, is especially good. 
 He was rather partial to soffc-ground etching, and worked 
 skilfuUy on the copperplate. It is also probable, though 
 not definitely ascertained, that he occasionally painted in 
 oil whilst at Hereford. The author has seen a picture 
 of Worcester Cathedral, with the adjoining houses, the 
 river Sevjern in fi'ont, boats and barges moored to the 
 side, and a figure swimming across the water ; all very 
 characteristic of Cox's manner at that period, and which 
 
TEE " WABWICE8HIBE ILLUSTRATED." 37 
 
 he believes to be an early production of tbe artist. It 
 is somewbat hard, smooth, and precise, but bears 
 unmistakable signs of having come from his hand. 
 
 Some little time before Cox left IIerefor4 an 
 illustrated account of "Warwickshire was projected by 
 a firm of publishers in Birmingham (Messrs. Knott), 
 for which work he and other artists — De "Wint, Harding, 
 W. Westall, J. V. Barber, and one or two more — were 
 engaged to make the necessary drawings. The descrip- 
 tive letterpress was written by Mr. Hamper, TJ'.S.A., an 
 antiquary of note then living in Birmingham. The 
 drawings executed by Cox and De Wint — with one 
 exception entirely in sepia — are very beautiful, and 
 are by far the best of the series. Cox's old friend, Mr. 
 "William EadclyfEe, engraved the plates. A few years 
 since, the entire series of drawings was purchased by 
 subscription, and presented for safe keeping to the 
 Birmingham and Midland Institute. Mr. C. W. 
 EadclyfEe, son of the engraver, states that it was 
 through the instrumentality of his father that Cox 
 obtained the commission to make some of the drawings 
 for this " History," and that the artist's remuneration 
 was not more than a guinea for each drawing. An 
 exquisite drawing in colours, "A Street Scene, Warwick," 
 with the Court-house, a crowd of suitors in front, and 
 lawyers in their robes and wigs standing amongst them, 
 is now worth all the money the entire series cost ! The 
 following letter contains a reference to two of the 
 illustrations, which were despatched to the engraver a 
 few days before Cox quitted Hereford for London : — 
 
38 BAVID COX. 
 
 Hereford, January 22, 1827. 
 
 Dear Kadcltpfb, — I have enclosed the " High Street, Birming- 
 ham," and small sepia of " Guy's Cliff Avenue," which latter I beg 
 to present, and hope it may answer. I have also enclosed a letter to 
 Mr. Thos. Knott for my money, with a request that he wUl send it 
 this week, as I quit my house next Monday, and wish to get off to 
 London as soon as the sale is over. But before I leave I must beg 
 to trouble you. I have had an accident with the stained-glass 
 window, nearly the whole of the panes being broken in the late high 
 winds, and I must replace them, so as to leave the house as I sold it. 
 I must therefore trouble you to order me panes to the following 
 sizes, and as near to the colour sent. There is a person lives op- 
 posite " Wilday's Hotel," where you can order it, with a request that 
 ie will pack it safely, but if he should think there would be a risk in 
 sending the larger panes, tell him to send off the smaller immediately 
 by coach. I remember once calling on the above person, who told 
 me it was 5s. per foot, but I must have it, and I hope you will 
 excuse the liberty I have taken in making so urgent a request on 
 jour valuable time, but as I have before stated, I must leave the 
 house on Monday next, and also leave it in the state in which I 
 sold it. 
 
 I have this moment recollected that I ought to have made a 
 sketch of some ducks, but I think if it is to be altered [alluding 
 probably to the drawing of " High Street, Birmingham," with the 
 market-folk and their poultry-stalls, then forwarded to Mr. Radclyffe 
 to be engraved] you can do it, and I will touch upon the proof 
 I still think there can be no objection to the table with the dead 
 poultry. 
 
 Tours very truly, in haste, 
 
 D. Cox. 
 
 During the summer of 1826, the year before Cox 
 left Hereford, he was induced, in company with his 
 brother-in-law and young David, his son, to make an 
 excursion to the Continent. The party crossed the 
 Channel to Calais, where they stayed a short time, 
 
VISIT TO BELGIUM: 1826. 39 
 
 and thence went on to Brussels. In that city Cox 
 made numerous sketches. He also made a pilgrimage 
 to the field of Waterloo, to see the spot where, a few 
 years previously, mighty forces had striven for mastery, 
 and the fate of Napoleon was sealed. During his stay at 
 Brussels he accidentally fell in with some old Hereford 
 friends, named Hopton, who were travelling on the 
 Continent, and was persuaded to accompany them in 
 their carriage to many places of interest they were 
 desirous of seeing. Young David was sent home with 
 his relative, and Cox, with his friends, visited some of 
 the chief cities of Belgium and Holland. His pencil- 
 was by no means idle during this pleasant excursion. 
 The ladies of the family had been his pupils at Here- 
 ford, and were as much interested in art-work as their 
 master. Cox returned home with his sketch-books 
 filled with useful memoranda for future drawings of 
 great interest and importance, some of which he con- 
 tributed to the Water-Colour Society's exhibitions. 
 
 Among the friends to whom Cox was warmly 
 attached during his sojourn in the old cathedral city 
 was Mr. Charles Spozzi, manager of the Old Bank in 
 Hereford. The writer had the pleasure of knowing 
 this gentleman, and has heard him speak of Mr. Cox 
 with great respect and esteem. Mr. Spozzi had often 
 rendered small services to Cox, and also to his servant, 
 Ann Fowler, in the disposal of her savings, for which 
 both Ann and her master felt very grateful. Ann 
 Fowler went into Mr. Cox's service when quite a girl, 
 and lived with him until his death, when far advanced 
 
40 DAVID GOX. 
 
 in year§. Cox always enjoined upon his domestics the 
 desirability of putting something by from their wages 
 against old age and a " rainy day." Ann Fowler acted 
 upon this advice, and invested her surplus cash, under 
 the direction of Mr. Spozzi, in the Hereford Savings 
 Bank, until at length she had at command a very 
 respectable sum. The following letter, written many 
 years after Cox left Hereford, wiU show his thoughtful- 
 ness for those about him, and also that he did not 
 forget kindnesses rendered to him in early days : — 
 
 Greenfield House, Harborne, near Birmingham, 
 January 19, 1850. 
 
 Mt deae Sir, — I see from the Hereford paper a notice to the 
 foUowing effect : — " Attendance will be given at the office of the 
 Hereford Savings Bank every Saturday during the month of 
 January, 1860, between the hours of ten and eleven in the forenoon, 
 and evpry Monday evening between the hours of six and seven, for 
 the purpose of the depositors' books being made up and examined to 
 the 20th of November last." As my servant cannot attend at this time, 
 and you were so kind as to say you would undertake a little business 
 of this kind for her, she begs that I would write and ask you this 
 favour, to have her book (which I now enclose) examined, and the 
 interest added. She had some thought of taking her deposit out of 
 the Savings Bank this Christmas, and placing it in the Three Per 
 Cents. ; but as the price of Consols is so very high, and perhaps 
 Ministers may contemplate some change, I advise her to wait a short 
 t'me before she removes it. 
 
 I have painted a small picture, in oil, but as it is not quite dry, I 
 will not send it off until Monday, and shall beg that you will accept 
 it for "^auld lang syne." I trust that Mrs. Spozzi and yourself are 
 in good health, as this leaves your obliged and faithful 
 
 David Cox. 
 To Charles Spozzi, Esq., Hereford. 
 
SELLS HIS- HOUSE AT HEBEFOBD. 41 
 
 Not very long after Cox returned from his Con- 
 tinental tour he began seriously to meditate a removal 
 to London. He had now been resident in the country 
 for something like thirteen years, and felt that he 
 should greatly like a change. He was anxious to fix 
 his abode among the members of his profession, and to be 
 nearer the purchasers and collectors of works of art. 
 He also thought that he should be able to make more 
 money by teaching in London, having excellent pro- 
 spects of extending his connection among the wealthier 
 classes through the agency of his former pupils. Above 
 aU, he had the interests of his son at heart, and con- 
 sidered that his chances of success as an artist would be 
 materially increased by a removal at once to the metro- 
 polis. It was exactly at this juncture that a West 
 Indian planter, who had realised a fortune at Berbice, 
 returned to his native town of Hereford, and was look- 
 ing about for a residence, intending to settle there for 
 the rest of his life.* Whilst strolling around the 
 suburbs he was attracted by Cox's pretty little cottage, 
 and thought it was the very place he should like to 
 possess. He immediately made overtures to purchase it ; 
 the owner wanted to sell ; the price was agreed on with- 
 out demur, and the money paid. In the settlement 
 there were a few shillings to be returned to the planter 
 from the sum paid down. Cox searched his pockets to 
 find the necessary coin, when the new owner exclaimed, 
 " Never mind the changfe, Mr. Cox ! you can give me 
 
 * This gentleman's name was Reynolds. He changed the name of 
 the house to Berbice VUla. — Ed. 
 
*2 DAVID COX. 
 
 five or six of your little drawings for tlie balance ! " 
 " And lie really meant what he said," Cox told his 
 friends when narrating the story. Such was the low 
 monetary value which the wealthy planter set on works 
 of art ! 
 
 Having thus disposed of his house, and made all 
 other necessary arrangements. Cox, with his family, at 
 the beginning of the year 1827, bade a final adiea to 
 the old City of Hereford. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 1827 TO 1841. 
 
 Ketum to London, and Second Eesidence there — Professional Pursuits — Another 
 Continental Trip — Sketching Excursions into Yorkshire, Derbyshire, to the 
 Lakes, and Elsewhere — Takes Lessons in Oil-painting from "W. Miiller — 
 Quits London for Harbome, near Birmingham. 
 
 Although David Cox, after his thirteen years' con- 
 tinuous residence in the country, felt an ardent desire 
 for a change of scene, a return to town life, in order to 
 mingle more frequently with his artistic brethren, and 
 to push .his fortunes with greater success, he was 
 nevertheless conscious of the immense benefit which, 
 as a landscape painter, he had received from the know- 
 ledge acquired during that time of the varied appear- 
 ances and effects of Nature, through changing seasons, 
 and amidst the beautiful scenery of the district where 
 he had so long resided ; and likewise of the characters, 
 incidents, occupations, and diversified operations of 
 rural life, which had daily met his observation in 
 traversing the country. Consequently, he returned to 
 London, not only physically invigorated by constant 
 exercise in fresh pure air, but with his mind stored and 
 enriched with a myriad of delightful images and recol- 
 lections, which, added to the treasures of his portfolios, 
 were of incalculable advantage to him in his future 
 career. 
 
44 DAVID COX. 
 
 With, the savings he had made, and something like 
 a thousand pounds, for which he had sold his cottage, 
 in his pocket, he once more returned to the metropolis 
 to reside. He took a house in the Foxley Eoad, Ken- 
 sington, which he continued to inhabit for a period of 
 fourteen years. There he commenced teaching drawing 
 in good earnest, and soon had work enough of this 
 kind. Many of his old pupils again rallied round him, 
 giving him introductions to others who were desirous of 
 receiving lessons, so that in a short time he began to 
 make money sufficient for his modest wants. He was 
 sought after far and near ; was applied to by members 
 of the aristocracy and upper classes at the West End, 
 and ere long was enabled to raise his terms. Even- 
 tually he received a guinea for a single lesson. Thus 
 the foundations of his fortune were laid. By teaching, 
 and by the sale of drawings, he acquired money rapidly, 
 occasionally obtaining, to him, considerable sums, for 
 works made as lessons for his pupils. He has said that 
 many a time, when he has knocked at a pupil's door, to 
 give a lesson, he has not had the faintest conception of 
 what he should do as an example, but that, when he 
 had taken his seat to begin, colours, paper, and pencils 
 before him, an idea had suddenly flashed across his 
 mind, of some effect previously seen, which, coupled 
 with a well-remembered subject, he dashed upon the 
 paper, the result surprising even himself. On leaving, 
 he received a guinea for the lesson, and afterwards sold 
 the drawing for a sum of perhaps five or ten pounds. 
 His drawings sold at that time much more readily than 
 
SECOND BmiDENCE IN LONDON: 1827. 45 
 
 ttey had done during tlie early years of his residence 
 at Hereford, because he had acquired greater skill as an 
 artist, and had become better known by frequently 
 exhibiting in the Society's Gallery in London ; also 
 because money was more abundant, and the country 
 generally had settled down, after the trials and troubles 
 consequent upon the long war. 
 
 Five or six years after the publication of the 
 "History of Warwickshire," Cox received from Messrs. 
 Wrightson and Webb, booksellers, of Birmingham, a 
 commission to furnish a number of drawings to illus- 
 trate a work they proposed to publish, entitled 
 " Wanderings in North and South Wales," the descrip- 
 tive part to be written by Thomas Eoscoe, of 
 Liverpool. This interesting work was brought out at 
 considerable cost. Cox, Creswick, Cattermole, Copley 
 Fielding, and other artists, supplied the drawings, 
 which were admirably engraved by Mr. WUliam 
 EadclyfEe. David Cox furnished fully half the illus- 
 trations, which were very beautiful, and for which 
 he received in payment the modest sums of four and 
 five guineas each, discharging his own travelling ex- 
 penses, in those days by no means light. This work, 
 pubhshed in two volumes, has been deservedly popular. 
 Cox, it is said, was again indebted to his friend Mr. 
 Eadclyffe for the commission he received to execute 
 drawings for this work, and it was with some reluctance 
 that the publishers consented to employ him, as his 
 name was not considered in those days of import- 
 ance. They insisted on other artists being associated 
 
46 DAVID COX. 
 
 with liim in the production of the illustrations, as the 
 puhlic would be more likely to purchase the book, and 
 the outlay be more readily covered. Those who possess 
 a copy of this charming work will agree that the illus- 
 trations supplied by David Cox are by far the best; 
 indeed, it is because of his work that the book is still 
 eagerly sought from the second-hand booksellers. The 
 second portion of the work, " Wanderings and Excur- 
 sions in South Wales," did not appear until some time 
 after the first part had been published, probably a 
 twelvemonth or more. In the interim, Messrs. 
 Wrightson and Webb must have discovered that the 
 name of David Cox was of greater consequence to them 
 iu promoting the sale of their first volume than they 
 Lad supposed it would have been, for in a note at the 
 close of the chapter descriptive of Eaglan Castle, in the 
 " South Wales " volume, they say : "It may not be 
 amiss here to mention the obligations which the pro- 
 prietors of this work are under to that highly-esteemed 
 artist and faithful delineator of scenery, Mr. David 
 Cox, whose pencil has enriched and enhanced the value 
 not only of this volume, but also of that recently pub- 
 lished on the Northern part of the Principality." This 
 is singular. There is now not a word about Fielding, 
 Creswick, Harding, and the rest ; and yet, but a few 
 months before, the publishers reluctantly employed Cox 
 in the firstinstance. 
 
 David Cox bad resided in London about a couple of 
 years after his return from Hereford, when it occurred 
 to him that he should much like to revisit the Continent 
 
VISIT TO PARIS: 1829. 47 
 
 for a little sketching, and get a complete change of 
 subjects from those which his own country had afforded 
 him. He therefore made arrangements, and started in 
 company with his son, landing, as before, at Calais. 
 There he made drawings of all the objects that were 
 picturesque and interesting, particularly of the pier, 
 crowded with people — fishermen and others — in their 
 gay costumes — a subject he was extremely fond of, and 
 which he many times repeated. Fort Rouge also was 
 treated by him, under various effects, and made an 
 admirable subject in his hands. The author has 
 seen one drawing of Fort Eouge as luminous as Turner 
 could have made it in his best days ; the sky glowing 
 with sunshine, and the blae water sparkling with 
 brilliant morning light. From Calais he journeyed on 
 to Paris, sketching most of the public buildings and 
 other objects of interest on his route. He made several 
 fine drawings of Amiens Cathedral. The bridges over 
 the Seine afforded him excellent subjects ; likewise the 
 Tuileries, and many other of the pubhc buildings in the 
 capital of France. He worked most industriously, and 
 brought home a large number of brilliant and interesting 
 studies, from which he afterwards made finished draw- 
 ings, which enhanced his reputation as an artist, and 
 especially as an architectural draughtsman. Shortly 
 after his arrival in Paris, he unluckily met with an 
 accident, spraining his ankle in descending some stairs, 
 which compelled him to go about the city in a vehicle 
 in search of subjects for his pencil, many of which he 
 drew whilst seated in the carriage. This accident rather 
 
48 DAVID GOX. 
 
 hastened his departure home ; but his stay, nevertheless, 
 was of several weeks' duration. 
 
 He has told the writer of this Memoir an amusing 
 story of his difl&culties respecting dinner when in Paris. 
 Having always had a preference for plain diet and 
 simple living, he could not enjoy the French cookery, 
 being ignorant of the constituents of the various dishes 
 set before him : in fact, he sometimes, during that visit, 
 did not make more than half a meal. Calling one day 
 at a restaurant, and looking over the bill of fare, he 
 observed with delight that "calves' head" was one of 
 the dishes for dinner. This discovery gave him sincere 
 pleasure, for he knew what " calves' head " was, and, 
 moreover, had always been very fond of it. At all 
 events, there was nothing mysterious or doubtful about 
 fkat dish; it was a plain, simple, unsophisticated, and 
 well-known English viand. He ordered some of it for 
 dinner, and enjoyed it vastly. !Next day, and for 
 several days in succession, he visited the same restaurant 
 to dine, and invariably ordered " calves' head," much to 
 the surprise of the waiter. On one of these occasions 
 alas ! as he was turning the delicious morsels on his 
 plate, he perceived — and the knife and fork almost fell 
 from his hands as he made the discovery — several little 
 teats and one or two small bristles on the meat he was 
 eating with such a reHsh ! and then a light suddenly 
 flashed across his mind, convincing him that what he 
 had been partaking of, day after day, with such pleasing 
 confidence, as "calves' head" — thoroughly enjoying it, 
 because he knew what he was eating — was, after all, 
 
HIS PBEFEBENCE FOB HOME SCENEBY. i9 
 
 nothing but a portion of the belly of a small pig ! His 
 disgust knew no bounds at having been so deceived, 
 and he never entered the place again. 
 
 Cox paid one more visit to the Continent for a short 
 time, but did not care to repeat the experiment after- 
 wards. He resolved to be quite content with what he 
 could find of the picturesque in England and in his 
 beloved Wales. Listening, one day, after the lapse of 
 many years, to a conversation between two brother 
 artists, one of whom was descanting on the beauties of 
 Switzerland, and endeavouring to persuade the other to 
 visit that romantic country on a sketching tour. Cox, 
 who, on this occasion, could speak freely without giving 
 offence, interrupted them with the remark, " Bother to 
 Switzerland ! Wales is quite good enough for me, and 
 I am sure it is for Mm ! " That he was, however, much 
 pleased with many of the subjects and incidents he met 
 with during his Continental rambles, the fine drawings 
 he made and exhibited sufficiently prove ; but home 
 scenes had for him a charm infinitely greater. In Eng- 
 lish and Welsh scenery he found his highest enjoyment 
 and his truest field of labour. 
 
 Not very long after his return to London from 
 Hereford — two or three years, perhaps — David Cox 
 started on a sketching excursion into Yorkshire, 
 influenced, probably, in some measure, by the recom- 
 mendation of his friend, Mr. William Eoberts, of 
 Birmingham, a native of that county, and himself a 
 very able artist, who had always a great affection for 
 Yorkshire scenery. He took up his quarters near 
 
so. DAVID COX. 
 
 Bolton Abbey, and made many excellent drawings of 
 tbe picturesque old ruin, and of subjects he found on 
 tbe river Wharfe. This was a favourite locality with 
 Cox ; he visited it again and again, and never tired of 
 painting the Abbey, in various aspects and under 
 different effects, both in water and in oil. Bolton Park 
 afforded him many good subjects. His water-colour 
 drawings made from sketches at Bolton, or in the 
 neighbourhood, are numerous, and many of them ex- 
 ceedingly fine. On other occasions he visited Kirkby 
 Lonsdale, in Cumberland ; Bardbn Tower, and else- 
 where, in Yorkshire. The latter (Bardon Tower) was a 
 favourite subject, often repeated, with variations, and 
 from different points of view. One of the last and 
 grandest drawings he made was of this subject — solemn 
 and low in tone, powerful in colour and effect, and full of 
 poetical feeling. One of his Kirkby Lonsdale subjects — 
 a fine, impressive work — hung for some time in his 
 usual sitting-room at Grreenfield House, Harborne. It 
 was a moorland scene, wild and grand ; huge blocks of 
 stone lying in the foreground, and a man leading a 
 rough pony along the rugged path in front, driving a 
 few sheep before him, and raising his arm ' (it may be 
 presumed his voice also) to make them proceed on their 
 way. This drawing was in ai somewhat incomplete 
 state, but the essential features had been put in with 
 much effect. It was entitled " The Missing Flock." 
 
 Another season Cox changed his ground, and made 
 a journey into Derbyshire. He wished to make a series 
 of drawings from Haddon Hall and its surroundings, 
 
VISITS TO BOWSLEY AND HABBON. 51 
 
 and for this purpose stayed some time at that delightful 
 old inn, the " Peacock," at Eowsley. There he was quite 
 at home, being made as comfortable as he could desire 
 by Mr. and Mrs. Severn, the landlord and landlady, of 
 whom he always spoke with the warmest regard. The 
 house itself must have been entirely after his own 
 heart, as no one who has visited Eowsley will, for a 
 moment dispute. The writer once passed a very happy 
 fortnight there, in " days gone by," and can bear 
 testimony to the charms and comforts of the dear old 
 inn. David Cox was especially attached by the scenery 
 and subjects in the neighbourhood of Eowsley, and 
 repeatedly paid visits to the place. He made many 
 most exquisite drawings in that locality. The pic- 
 turesque old water-mill, with the double wheels, 
 on the little river "Wye — renowned for its trout and 
 grayling — almost opposite to the " Peacock," he many 
 times depicted ; it was a " pet " subject, and he painted 
 it as though he loved it. Haddon Hall — his " dear old 
 Haddon," as he often called it, was, of course, an 
 inexhaustible treasure-house. He never could see 
 enough of it. How frequently has that deserted 
 mansion of the Vernons — ^its quaint old courts and 
 picturesque terrace, with the crumbling grey -green steps 
 leading down into the garden from the shady walk 
 above — its wainscoted rooms and latticed windows — its 
 time-stained walls and leafy surroundings — how often 
 has it been , portrayed by his loving hand ! And the 
 dear old church at Darley Dale, with its great and 
 venerable yew in the green graveyard, and its back- 
 E 2 
 
52 DAVID COX. 
 
 ground of lovely hills seen tkrough tlie trees that 
 encircle it with pleasant green — ^how many times has he 
 transferred to paper the features of that delightful view ! 
 In fact, the scenery of Yorkshire and Derbyshire had 
 ever resistless attractions for David Cox ; the moulder- 
 ing priory of Bolton — the stately castle of Bolsover — 
 Hardwick Hall, with its numberless charms and 
 treasures — and above all, his dear and favourite " old 
 Haddon " — have furnished him with innumerable sub- 
 jects for the display of his genius and the delight of 
 every true lover of art. 
 
 Cox had never any very great affection for lake 
 scenery. For some reason he did not care for large sheets 
 of placid water as many artists do, and could not take 
 sufficient interest, in them to devote time and thought 
 to the subjects they afforded. Occasionally he essayed 
 his skill on one or two of the Welsh lakes — Bala and 
 Tal-y-Uyn, and perhaps Llyn Helsi, on the moors at the 
 back of Bettws-y-coed. Llanberis lake, too, enticed him 
 to depict its charms. But to the lakes of Westmore- 
 land and Cumberland he was rarely drawn ; in aU pro- 
 bability he did not visit them more than once for the 
 purpose of sketching. He made an interesting drawing 
 at Windermere, on some festive occasion ; but of Eydal 
 Water, G-rasmere, Derwentwater, TJUeswater, and the 
 rest the author cannot call to mind a single transcript 
 by him. Although he did not show much regard for 
 large sheets of smooth water, he had a strong liking for 
 vast stretches of unbroken sand on the sea-shore ; and 
 the sands of Ulverstone and Lancaster often drew him 
 
LANCASTER SANB8. S3 
 
 across cotmtry to depict their cliaracteristic cliarms. He 
 loved those far-extending brown and yellow plains, 
 spreading for miles when the sea had ebbed away, with 
 their cavalcades of market people wending across the 
 dangerous route, under varying effects of rain and 
 cloud, shrouding fog or dazzling sunshine. Many a 
 time and oft has he depicted them, both in water-colours 
 and in oils ; and among them are to be found some of 
 his happiest productions. The writer calls to mind a 
 most lovely drawing of Lancaster Sands, of small 
 dimensions, but full of light, splendour, and most beau- 
 tiful colour. It is morning, the sxm is up, and 
 shedding a flood of glory on all beneath ; but a thick 
 haze envelopes the distant land, and reaches far across 
 the wide-spreading tract of ruddy sand, approaching 
 within a hundred yards or so to the near shore. There 
 is apparently a large cavalcade of travellers, some on 
 horseback and some in carts, wending their way towards 
 the spectator across the wet ground, fall of bright 
 reflections — a few partially enveloped in the fog, and 
 some distinctly seen in the brilliant sunshine, whilst a 
 man on horseback leads the way where the sand is 
 safest, and with a bugle to his mouth indicates the track 
 which the party is to follow. It is indeed a glorious 
 drawing — aluminous as any Turner, and in the artist's 
 best and happiest manner. Cox himself prized this 
 drawing highly. In his portfolio it was protected with 
 tissue paper ; and not wishing to part with it, he put 
 upon it a price which he thought would prevent any 
 one purchasing it. In fact he asked as much as £18 
 
64 DAVID GOX. 
 
 for the drawing — a sum about £8 in advance of his usual 
 charge for works of this size. Strange to say the extra 
 price had the desired prohibitory effect, until a short 
 time before the artist's death, when a purchaser was 
 found who was too happy to be permitted to take it at 
 what the artist thought the exorbitant price of £18 ! 
 Shortly afterwards it passed into the fine collection of 
 Mr. Newsham, of Preston, and probably no sum would 
 purchase it now. 
 
 These sea-shore subjects are amongst the happiest, 
 as to the painter they were amongst the best-beloved 
 of his works. Whether on the coast of France, at 
 Calais or Dieppe; or on our own English coast at 
 Hastings or Ulverstone, or latterly at Ehyl, for which 
 place he had a strong regard, probably on account of its 
 long stretches of sea-sand, he was most successful in 
 his renderings, and most delighted with his success. 
 When at Lancaster, for the purpose of painting the 
 sands of Morecambe Bay from Host Bank, Cox made 
 various sketches about the city, particularly of the old 
 castle on its commanding eminence, with the town at 
 its foot, and its fine background of mountain ranges 
 in the blue distance far away. From these studies he 
 painted the famous picture, entitled " Lancaster Castle," 
 with soldiers and baggage-wagons on the way, and 
 reapers and a cornfield in front, gazing wonderingly at 
 the troops as they march along. This fine picture — 
 although not larger than 24 by 18 inches — brought at 
 the sale of the Gillott collection (in consequence of two 
 eminent dealers having unlimited commissions to pur- 
 
FIRST EFFORTS IN OIL-PAINTING. 55 
 
 chase it for respective clients) sometliing like 3,000 
 guineas. It was originally presented by the artist to 
 an old friend who fell in love with it. This gentleman 
 kept it in his possession several years, until he had 
 forgotten how he came by it, or, at all events, until he 
 was one day hard pressed for money, and meditated 
 selling the picture. Meeting the artist accidentally, he 
 said, " Mr. Cox, I've got a picture of your painting. I 
 am short of money at this time. Should you mind if 
 I sold ' Lancaster Castle ? ' " " Oh, not at aU," replied 
 Cox ; " sell it to me. If you remember, I ^ave it to 
 you ! " This took the owner somewhat aback ; 'but the 
 end of it was that Cox purchased his own present from 
 his friend, and gave the sum of twenty pounds for the 
 picture. He afterwards sold it for the same price. 
 
 During the remainder of David Cox's sojourn in 
 London, he continued to work very industriously, making 
 and exhibiting a large number of drawings, giving 
 lessons to his pupils, which brought him in a good 
 annual income, and occasionally painting in oU, a 
 medium in which, after many attempts, he now de- 
 sired to ma;ke a serious effort. He had produced 
 several pictures of considerable merit, which his friends 
 thought well of, and which gave promise of future 
 excellence ; he was therefore determined to make an 
 effort to succeed as a painter in oils, and with his 
 usual decision of character, set energetically to work 
 to accomplish his object. As, when he commenced 
 painting in water-colours, he thought it desirable to 
 be put at starting in the right way, and applied to 
 
56 BAYID COX. 
 
 Jolrn Varley for instruction, so he now considered 
 that it would be advantageous to procure from some 
 master hand a little advice and assistance as to manipu- 
 lation and the management of colours, &c., which would 
 help him in the practice of oil-painting. Accordingly, 
 lie obtained an introduction to Mr. W. Gr. Muller, who, 
 after his return from Grreece and Egypt, had set up his 
 €asel in London, and obtained from him a few lessons, 
 ■which doubtless were of service, as to the proper method 
 of working in the unfamiliar vehicle. Cox was a great 
 admirer of the works of Muller, and thought the young 
 artist then, and ever afterwards, a man of extraordinary 
 ability. On his first visit, Muller very kindly began a 
 picture before him, and painted with such ease and 
 rapidity, that Cox was astonished, for the picture — one 
 of moderate size — was carried a great way towards 
 completion when the new pupU took his leave.* Muller 
 
 * An amusing anecdote has been told of William Miiller, by an axtist 
 residing at the time in North Wales, which, as it illustrates the ease and 
 rapidity with which he painted his pictures, is worth preserving. The 
 narrator of this story had made a journey to Conway, for the purpose of 
 sketching cottage interiors, of which he knew seTeral fine subjects in the 
 place. Whilst he was sitting one evening shortly after his arrival in the 
 parlour of the little inn, at which he had taken up his quarters, a 
 stranger entered the room, took a seat by the fire, and soon began a 
 conversation with our friend. They talked of art ; and the stranger, who 
 said he came from London, and painted a little himseM, inquired if there 
 were any subjects of a picturesque character "in that neighbourhood on 
 which he could try his hand. His dress was so peculiar, and his general 
 appearance so unlike that of a professional artist out upon a sketching 
 excursion, that the narrator believed him to be an amateur painter — a 
 small tradesman, or clerk, perhaps, in some city establishment — taking his 
 holiday, and bent on amusing himself by doing a little sketching. He 
 even thought it not impossible (the costume of the stranger was so odd 
 and unsuitable for rambling about in, and his manner altogether so re- 
 
ANECDOTE OF W. MULLEB. 57 
 
 could work with either hand equaUy'well, and when one 
 became tired, he would put the brush in the other, 
 and dash away on his canvas with the same facility as 
 before. It has been said that when working on a 
 picture of large dimensions, he has often had a palette 
 strapped upon each arm, and both hands filled with 
 brushes plentifully charged with the pigments he was 
 using. On the following day, when Cox called for a 
 second lesson, great was his astonishment on finding 
 that Miiller had in the interval obliterated a great 
 
 markaUe) that the new-comer might be a tailor with artistic tendencies, from 
 some West End house, on a trip in search of health as well as the pic- 
 turesque. It was not long before the stranger gathered that there were 
 in the place some exceedingly fine cottage -interior subjects which he had 
 come there to paint ; and saying that he himself was very fond of subjects 
 of the Mnd, asked if he might be permitted to go and see them. On the 
 following morning he was introduced to a " splendid interior," which 
 both agreed to paint ; and, taking up their stations a little apart, they 
 very soon began operations. The artist sketched his subject very care- 
 fully upon the canvas, laid out his colours, and put on a few tints here 
 and there, just to feel his way ; and after working for about an hour, occa- 
 sionally looking over the top of his picture towards his companion, who 
 was sticking to his task, apparently not much disturbed by the difficulties 
 of the subject, he rose from his seat to ascertain how the " taUor " (as he 
 thought him to be) was progressing. He fully expected to see a poor 
 daub, out of perspective, and vile in colour and drawing. What was his 
 astonishment on discovering that the "tailor" had nearly finished his 
 picture, while his own was only a little more than commenced ! And such a 
 picture it was ! Such splendid colour ! so masterly in the handling ! the 
 drawing of every detail so perfect ! the figures introduced with such skiU, 
 and the whole so efEective ! He was rendered quite speechless as he stood 
 gazing at the marvellous work. At length he found words to exclaim, 
 " Well ! you have astonished me ! I did not think you could paint any- 
 thing fit to be seen ! Why, you are a most able artist ! May I inquire 
 your name ? " The person addressed quietly responded, " My name is 
 Miiller." " Oh ! " replied the other, with a groan of contrition, " why 
 didn't you tell me that before ? I took you for a tailor / " 
 
58 DAVID COX. 
 
 portion of his previous day's work, and liad made con- 
 siderable progress with, another subject on the same 
 canvas. In answer to Cox's look of surprise, Miiller 
 said, " I did not like the subject I worked at yesterday, 
 and have rubbed most of it out. This, I think, is 
 better." He had commenced his fine picture, entitled 
 the " Baggage-Wagon," exhibited some years after- 
 wards in the International Exhibition ; and, in fact, it 
 seemed to Cox to be well advanced towards completion 
 with the single day's work. The next day Cox took 
 his third and. final lesson from that celebrated example 
 of Miiller's genius. Miiller's lessons, however, never 
 had the slightest effect in changing or modifying Cox's 
 natural mode of recording his own ideas and im- 
 pressions. He doubtless derived useful hints as to 
 manipulation, and the " legitimate " method of laying 
 on his colours, but the treatment of his subjects was 
 always peculiarl}'- his own. David Cox was no imitator 
 of the works of other men, except on one or two 
 special occasions. He thought for himself, and worked 
 out his ideas in his own way. He put his own 
 individuality into whatever he did, to stand for 
 what it was worth. He never, when painting, asked 
 himself the question, " How would Miiller, or Turner, 
 or any other master of the art, have treated this 
 subject? I should like to make my work resemble 
 his." He felt that although his way might not be the 
 better way, it was the only way for him ; ■ that he could 
 not accomplish what he desired in any other manner 
 than that to which he was born. He has been heard 
 
TAKES LESSONS FROM MULLER. 59 
 
 to say, when overlooking an artist at work upon some 
 
 picture, " How carefully Mr. is painting those 
 
 trees ! " or, " How accurately he is representing those 
 stones in the river-bed ! Why, he is painting every 
 stone ! I shall never be able to paint Hke that ! 
 "Well, well, I must work in my own clumsy way. 
 My friends are kind enough to teU me they like my 
 pictures, and I suppose I must rest contented." Then, 
 with a few master-strokes, he proved that his friends 
 had good, reason to " like " his works. 
 
 Cox not only took lessons from Mr. Miiller, but 
 admired the productions of this artist so greatly as to 
 purchase several for his own pleasure and study ; and 
 he further induced his friends in Birmingham, when he 
 took up his abode there, to follow his example, by 
 adding some of Muller's works to their collections. 
 There was no jealousy in Cox's nature : if he had been 
 hangman at the Eoyal Academy, MuUer would have 
 had due place, even if his own works had been forced 
 to give way. 
 
 Cox made such satisfactory progress with his oil 
 painting after he had received instruction from Mr> 
 Miiller that he began to meditate a change of residence 
 to the country again, in order to give himself more 
 entirely and uninterruptedly to the pursuit of that 
 branch of the art. He had made a good deal of money 
 by teaching, but was getting tired of the drudgery, and 
 his son, by this time qualified to give lessons, was not 
 unwilling to have some of the pupils transferred to him. 
 Cox had a warmly attached friend in Birmiagham, Mr. 
 
60 DAVID COX. 
 
 W. Eoberts, wto was an admirable connoisseur, and 
 likewise, as has been said, a very skilful artist, weU 
 acquainted witb all tbe methods of painting in oils; 
 and he had other excellent friends and admirers residing 
 in or near the town, and these urged him to take up his 
 residence in their neighbourhood. Besides, he felt that 
 he was advancing in years, and possibly had a secret 
 wish — the wish so many have felt — to end his days 
 near the spot where he first drew the breath of life. 
 However this may have been, he came to the deter- 
 mination that if a suitable habitation could be met 
 with not far from his friends, Mr. Roberts and Mr. 
 Birch, a picture collector and a man of refined taste, to 
 whom he was much attached, he would quit London, 
 and return to his native town. Fortunately, in no very 
 long time, a convenient and pleasant house was found 
 for him at Harborne, nearly opposite to the residences 
 of his friends above-mentioned. In due course he took 
 his departure from London, and entered into possession 
 of his future abode, Greenfield House, Greenfield Lane, 
 Harborne, about two miles and a half from Birmingham, 
 where he continued to reside during the remaiader of 
 his life. 
 
 The author feels that in a Biography of David Cox, some account of 
 Cox's old and esteemed friend, Mr. William Roberts — ^to whom he was 
 indebted for much valuable advice and assistance when he commenced 
 painting in oil at Harborne ; who accompanied him on many of his 
 sketching excursions ; who was an enthusiastic admirer and purchaser of 
 Ms works, and who was a patron of essential service to him in many ways — 
 will not here be considered out of place. The following brief memoir, 
 written by the author, appeared in The Birmingham Fast, on the 30th 
 
MB. WILLIAM ROBERTS. 61 
 
 March, 1867, the day on which Mr. Eoberts was buried. It may interest 
 some friends who knew and esteemed him, and thought highly of his 
 artistic abilities : — 
 
 " The grave ought not to close over the remains of our late much respected 
 townsman, Mr. William Roberts, without some notice, however brief and in- 
 adequate, of a man remarkable in many ways, more particularly for his attach- 
 ment to the fine arts, and for his great skill as a practitioner in the art which 
 he loved, and which engrossed his afieotions from an early period to the 
 close of a life of eighty years. Mr. Roberts was bom at Darton, in 
 Torkshire. He was destined to commercial pursuits, and in' course of 
 time entered into partnership with the late Mr. Wilmott of Summer Row, 
 in this town. The firm of WUmott and Roberts was for many years 
 known to most people in Birmingham engaged in business — and, indeed> 
 all over the country — and their mercantile establishment stood as high as any 
 in public estimation. Mr. Wilmott dying, the business for a number of 
 years has been carried on successfully by Mr. Roberts alone. Mr. Roberts 
 was from his youth always fond of painting and of the Society of Artists. 
 His commercial pursuits frequently took him to Norwich, and there he 
 formed an acquaintance with an artist who productions he greatly ad- 
 mired, and whose name has now become famous — John Orome. Mr. 
 Roberts also formed an intimacy with another artist of remarkable ability, 
 residing in Norwich at that time — John Sell Cotman, the friend, and in 
 some respects' the model of ,Tumer. The elder Stark, and Yiucent, 
 pupils of Crome, were also among the friends of Mr. Roberts at that 
 period ; their conversation, and the study of their works, contributed to 
 form his taste and to develop his own ability as a painter. Many were 
 the anecdotes, amusing and instructive, which h'e used to narrate of men 
 and their doings, to which his friends have often listened with delighted 
 attention. StUl further to improve himself, Mr. Roberts took lessons 
 from the celebrated water-colour pauiter, De Wint, whose genius he 
 reverenced, and whose works he always extolled. Subsequently he became 
 acquainted with a still greater artist — ^David Oox ; acquaintance ripened 
 into intimacy, and the two remained fast friends until the death of the 
 latter in 1859. The works of David Cox exercised a powerful influence in 
 forming the style of Mr. Roberts, whose drawings and paintings very 
 much resemble those of Cox, and are not unfrequently mistaken for the 
 works of that artist. The genius of the two men was very much akin. 
 Both took broad and grand views of Nature, loved similar subjects and 
 effects, and transcribed them on paper or canvas with bold suggestive 
 strokes of the pencil. The productions of Mr. Roberts usually exhibit 
 extraordinary ability, and it has often been remarked that had circum- 
 stances compelled him in early life to take up the profession of an artist, 
 he must have attained to a high and distinguished position. With the 
 
62 DAVID COX. 
 
 progress of the fine arts in Birmingham, Mr. Roberts has been iden- 
 tified from a very early period. He contributed pictures to the first 
 exhibition of works of art opened in this town, and which was held in a 
 room behind the Fire Offices in Union Street, in the year 1819. He 
 joiued the few artists residing in Birmingham at that time in maJdng this 
 exhibition, and became a member of the society then formed. He has 
 contributed several of his latest works to the Exhibition of Water- 
 Colour Drawings, open at the present time in New Street. The late 
 David Cox had a high opinion of the artistic powers of Mr. Roberts, and 
 of his information on all matters pertaining to the practice of painting in 
 oil. It is a fact that he decided on coming from London to reside at 
 Harbome, in order to be near his friend Roberts, from whom he ex- 
 pected to receive such hints on the modus operandi of painting in oil as 
 would enable him to master the difficulties attending that branch of art, 
 to which he was desirous of devoting his remaining years. We all know 
 with what success the object was accomplished. The friends — ^who 
 painted together; who rambled over the country in company, seeking 
 subjects for the pencil; who spent many years of their lives in each 
 other's society, or in the immediate neighbourhood of each other, cherish- 
 ing a mutual and most affectionate regard — ^wiU not rest apart. To-day, 
 the mortal remains of William Roberts will be laid near those of David 
 Cox, in Harbome Churchyard ; and the same hallowed soil will enclose 
 all that is left of two men of kindred genius, who have left behind them 
 many warm and attached friends that esteemed them living, and lament 
 them dead." 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 1841 TO 1845. 
 
 Eesidenoe at Harbome — Artistic Purauits— Sketching Trips into Yorkshire 
 and "Wales — Conway, Llanhedr, Bettws-y-coed — Death of Mrs. Cox. 
 
 David Cox (with. Mrs. Cox and their servant Ann 
 Fowler) arrived at his new abode, Grreenfield House, 
 about the middle of summer, 1841, he being then in his 
 fifty-eighth year. He was delighted to leave far behind 
 him the din and bustle of London, and get back once 
 again to the quiet of the country. He had lived in town, 
 since he left Hereford, for the long period of fourteen 
 years, with only an occasional trip for sketching pur- 
 poses, once or twice a year, to relieve the strain and 
 jnonotony of his London life. He felt the yoke of a 
 teacher of drawing to be galling him sorely; and 
 although by carrying it so long and persistently he had 
 been enabled materially to improve his circumstances, and 
 to acquire a comfortable independency, still he was re- 
 solved to get rid of tbe burthen, and to pass the rest of his 
 days in a manner more in accordance with his tastes and 
 wishes. Not that the previous years of his life — with 
 all their cares, and all the plodding industry they en- 
 tailed, often weary and sick at heart, as he must have felt, 
 when on his mill-horse round day after day — were 
 valuable time wasted, of no real service to him as an 
 artist bent on earning a conspicuous position before 
 
64 DAVID COX. 
 
 the world. All the while he felt there was that within 
 him which sooner or later, in spite of all hindrances 
 or delays, would have free scope. As Fuseli says : — 
 " Heaven and earth, advantages and obstacles, conspire 
 to educate genius " — so was it with David Cox. What- 
 ever of good or ill fortune, hard ungenial work, desires 
 often thwarted, hopes deferred, ambitious thoughts cast 
 down to the earth and temporarily crushed, had been 
 his portion during the past, all had served to strengthen 
 his character, develop and invigorate his artistic powers, 
 and bring out the soul of genius that lay hidden within 
 him. When he took probably the most important step 
 in his life, of casting off old supports, and determining 
 to be a painter, and nothing else ; quitting the great 
 city ia which he had flourished as a teacher, and coming 
 down into the country to give his whole mind to the 
 work of his heart, he was fully prepared for the struggle; 
 his powers had reached maturity, his resources were 
 copious and varied, his art knowledge was profound, 
 his spirits were high to exultation, and his courage was 
 equal to the effort. He was determined to leave a great 
 name in the annals of British art. " I will succeed ! " 
 said he ; and aU who love art confess with pride and 
 gratitude that he did succeed. 
 
 So soon as he had established himself in his new 
 home, and found all things around him comfortable 
 and pleasant, he set to work in good earnest. He 
 busied himself in preparing important drawings for the 
 exhibitions. He looked about in the vicinity of his 
 residence for subjects to paint j he took short journeys 
 
STUBIES AT HABBOBNK 65 
 
 into the neighbouring country for the pxirpose of 
 sketching; and he soon discovered an abundance of 
 material on which to employ his skill. The lanes and 
 fields around Harbome were at that time very charming 
 to a lover of the picturesque. Fine trees were to be 
 seen on every side, rural cottages here and there dotted 
 the landscape, country people of the true breed stood 
 at the wicket gates, or stroUed along the quiet roads, 
 carrying their marketings, or driving home the cows or 
 porkers that had been picking up a meal by the way- 
 side. There were some pretty " bits " for the pencil 
 even within a few yards of Cox's dwelling — views of 
 lane and cottage scenery — fine sycamores and briary 
 hedge-rows, with peeps between of rural homes, ruddy 
 in the sunshine, and sending aloft their wreaths of 
 sweet blue smoke to the summer sky. With infinite 
 relish did the artist set to work at these subjects, often 
 depicted, under various effects ; and at those which he 
 found a little farther away, in the meadows and corn- 
 fields at Metchley, or in the Park at Edgbaston. His 
 fine drawing of "The Stubble Field, with Grleaners," 
 made for his friend, Mr. Birch, a large and important 
 work, bearing date 1843, was painted from sketches in 
 the Metchley fields. Then there was the old parish 
 church close at hand, with its tree-shaded graveyard 
 and time-worn stones ; and green meadows, with farm- 
 steads adown the slopes and cresting the rising lands 
 farther away; while in the remote distance were the 
 blue hills of Clent, soaring above the pastoral and 
 placid landscape, and lending an additional charm to 
 
66 DAVID COX. 
 
 the view. These delightful home-subjects gave much 
 employment to Cox's pencil, and he stored his portfolios 
 and sketch-books with a host of valuable notes and 
 memoranda. "Within easy reach, also, was the Castle 
 of Dudley, on its proud eminence, of which he made 
 many drawings ; and Warwick's stately pile was not 
 far off'; and the grand ruin of Kenilworth, dearly loved 
 and often depicted, was near to him ; and Maxstoke's 
 mouldering Priory, with the picturesque lanes that 
 lead to it, was almost close at home. To his favourite 
 Eowsley, and " dear old Haddon," was but a short 
 journey ; to Sherwood Forest, Bolsover, Hardwick 
 Hall, Lancaster Sands, the lovely scenery of Yorkshire, 
 with far-famed Bolton Abbey as the grand centre of 
 attraction ; to all these old haunts and much-loved 
 places and objects, he felt that the road was shortened 
 and that they were easily to be reached at any time. 
 His beloved Wales, too, was much nearer to him than 
 before ! All these considerations tended to make his 
 new residence at Harborne a source of infinite satisfac- 
 tion and delight. His old art-loving friends of Bir- 
 mingham and the neighbourhood could also readily caU 
 to see what he was doing, and give him the benefit of 
 their advice and assistance. One can imagine the 
 pleasure with which, after a long day's painting out of 
 doors, or in his studio, he received the visits of his 
 friends, Eoberts and Birch, in an evening, when they 
 dropped in on their way home, to view and admire — 
 perhaps to criticise and suggest improvements in — the 
 results of his labours. Their opinion was always 
 
PB0GBE88 IN OIL PAINTING. 67 
 
 valued, and their suggestions were frequently carried 
 out. Or possibly tliey called to propose, or arrange for, 
 a sketcting excursion into Wales, or Yorkshire, or some 
 other part of the country ; to which he would gladly 
 accede, for the pleasure of their company, and with the 
 prospect of a few weeks of profitable employment before 
 him . Happy Cox ! Now he was doing the thing he 
 liked, without distraction and without hindrance ! Now 
 was the stream of his art-life free to take its natural 
 course, and flow on evenly, smoothly, with growing 
 strength, and unobstructed current, to the end ! 
 
 Cox allowed but a short time to elapse after his 
 settlement at Harborne before he started, with two 
 companions, on a sketching trip into Yorkshire, to 
 Bolton Abbey, During the following summer, he 
 visited that locality again, with his friend Mr. Eoberts, 
 and executed some beautiful drawings, besides painting 
 from Nature several pictures in oil, which greatly pleased 
 both himself and his companion. On his return, he 
 posted off again, with aU speed, into Wales, having this 
 time his son to bear him company. During the autumn, 
 he went over to Kenilworth, and did some excellent 
 work there, in his two or three weeks' stay ; and, before 
 winter set in, he finished his outdoor sketching by 
 making a good drawing in the neighbourhood of 
 Bromsgrove. 
 
 Cox worked very industriously during the early 
 
 part of the year 1843, and made great progress in his 
 
 oil painting. He began to feel his strength in this 
 
 branch of the art, and was reluctant to lay aside his 
 
 1-2 
 
68 JDAVIB COX. 
 
 palette to take up water-colours when tlie necessity arose 
 for preparing for the annual exHMtion of his Society. 
 Two fine oU pictures which he produced this year — 
 one for Mr. Eoberts, entitled the " Outskirts of a Wood, 
 with Gipsies ; " the other called " Washing Day," 
 painted for Mr. Froggat, an old pupil, and a remarkably 
 powerful work, somewhat in the manner of Constable — 
 the writer of this memoir remembers very well, as (with 
 the consent of all parties) he made a copy of the first, 
 for Mr. Thomas Darby, a friend of Cox's, who was 
 desirous of having a recollection of the picture, which 
 he greatly admired; and as both pictures, some years 
 afterwards, passed through his hands into the possession 
 of Mr. GiUott. Mr. Eoberts paid the artist £40 for the 
 " Outskirts of a Wood," and parted with it for the same 
 sum to an old friend — Mr. Cooper, of Lynn, who was 
 literally hungering for a picture by Cox. Mr. Roberts 
 borrowed it from Mr. Cooper, for the purpose of being 
 copied. The "Washing Day," painted for Mr. Froggat 
 at the very low price of £1 5, or thereabouts, afterwards 
 became the property of Mr. E. S. Bond, an artist 
 resident at Bettws-y-coed ; and from him it passed, 
 through another channel, to Mr. Carritt, of Birmingham, 
 who also obtained from Mr, Cooper, of Lynn, the " Out- 
 skirts of a Wood." Both pictures were sold, for Mr. 
 Carritt, to Mr. Joseph Gillott, in 1867, for 500 guineas. 
 At the sale of the "Gillott Collection," in 1872, the 
 " Washing Day " realised 900 guineas, and the " Out- 
 skirts of a Wood" the very large sum of 2,205 guineas. 
 Cox repeated the latter subject — composed from sketches 
 
PBIGM OF EI8 OIL PICTURES. 69 
 
 made in Sherwood Forest — several times, both in oil 
 and water-colour. One, the same size as that painted 
 for Mr. Eoberts, was purchased by Cox's old friend 
 Mr. David Jones, of Harborne, and after his death 
 realised (with a fine replica of the " Welsh Funeral ") 
 the sum of 3,000 guineas ! 
 
 The admirable drawing (30 by 20) called "A Stubble 
 Field with Gleaners," bought for £25 by Mr. C. Birch, 
 and considered one of the artist's best productions, was 
 also the work of this year, 1843 — it was sold by auction 
 recently (1879, a time of great commercial depression), at 
 the death of the owner, for the sum of 700 guineas — and 
 in all probability so was the very grand and important 
 drawing " Bolsover Castle, once the property of Mr. S. 
 Mayou, of Birmingham, afterwards in the collection of 
 Mr. F. Craven, of Manchester. Notwithstanding an 
 attack of illness, which for some time compelled Cox to 
 remain quiet, during the summer of 1843, he pro- 
 duced other fine works besides those above-mentioned, 
 and plied a busy pencil when able to paint. He was 
 not the man to be kept idle by trifling ailments. 
 
 At the beginning of the following year, 1844, he 
 completed the fine upright picture ra oil, " Caer Cennen 
 Castle," purchased by a lady (though not directly from 
 the artist) Miss Phipson of Edgbaston, Birmingham. 
 Some years afterwards, when there was a great demand 
 for the works of Cox, she was induced to part with it 
 for the large sum of £2,000. During the summer of 
 this year. Cox, having with him as companion an artist 
 friend, Mr. Harry Johnson of London, formerly a pupil 
 
VO DAVIB COX. 
 
 of Miiller, went on a sketching tonr into North Wales, 
 and made studies of the fine scenery in the vale of 
 Clwyd, from Sir John Williams's park at Bodelwyddan, 
 near Ehyl. From these sketches he afterwards painted 
 two grand pictures in oil, with which most art lovers are 
 familiar ; and also made drawings of great beauty and 
 importance. When this district had been sketched 
 over, the pair worked their way, from one place to 
 another, towards Bettws-y-coed, staying for a few days, 
 on their road, at the little inn at Llanbedr, about half- 
 way between Conway and Bettws. Hence they pro- 
 ceeded to Bettws-y-coed, taking up their quarters at the 
 old " Eoyal Oak,'' and remained there for several weeks. 
 l^ot long after Cox returned from his Welsh excur- 
 sion, he journeyed again, with Mr. Eoberts and other 
 friends, into Yorkshire, to make drawings from the 
 favourite subjects, Bolton Abbey, Knaresborough 
 Castle, and other striking features of the locality. He 
 likewise tried his hand in painting from Nature in oil 
 during this excursion, but with no great success, as he 
 "thought ; his friend Eoberts's faciHty in that medium 
 probably causing him dissatisfaction at the slow pro- 
 gress he made with his own performances. So soon as 
 he returned home from this trip, he set vigorously to 
 work at his oil pictures, being determined to overcome 
 the difficulties he encountered in painting out of doors. 
 He also meditated painting two pictures in oil for the 
 London exhibitions of the following year, and in all 
 probability made studies for them from the sketches 
 brought back from Yorkshire. 
 
FIRST VISIT TO BETTWS -. 1845. 71 
 
 During tlie spring of 1845 Cox was fully occupied in 
 preparing his drawings for tlie Water-Colour Exhibition, 
 and had ten or twelve in hand — four of them large im- 
 portant works — " Knaresborough Castle," " Brough," 
 "The Terrace, Haddon," and "Kenilworth Castle." 
 These, with a number of smaller drawings, appeared in 
 the London gallery the same season. When this work 
 was off his mind, and the exhibition open, he paid 
 another visit, in company with his. friend Mr. W. Ellis, 
 to Eowsley, making a stay there of about a fortnight, 
 for the purpose of sketching " Old Haddon," a series of 
 views of which, with the adjacent scenery, Mr. Ellis 
 was anxious to possess. 
 
 Cox visited Bettws-y-coed again this year, and did 
 much good work during his stay of several weeks. He 
 had been greatly struck with the scenery of that charm- 
 ing locaHty on his previous sojourn there, with Mr. H. 
 Johnson, and his admiration was still further heightened 
 by all he saw on the second visit. He discovered so 
 many fine subjects for the pencU whichever way he 
 took, that there appeared to be an inexhaustible store 
 of them, and he resolved to devote at least a month 
 every year to sketching at Bettws. This resolution 
 he carried out, ind continued his annual visits to the 
 place as long as he Uved. In the following year, 1846, 
 the writer had the pleasure of meeting him there for 
 the first time — a never-to-be forgotten time ! On sub- 
 sequent occasions he either accompanied Coi to Bettws, 
 or joined him at the old '"' Eoyal Oak." They went 
 out sketching together ; they were in each other's com- 
 
72 DAVID COX. 
 
 pany most of the time. They ate, drank, slept under 
 the same roof. It will no doubt interest the reader to 
 have some account of Bettws-y-coed at that time, and 
 of the doings of David Cox there and then, whilst in 
 pursuit of his art. This the writer will endeavour to 
 accomplish further on. 
 
 At the close of the year 1845, poor Cox had the 
 greatest misfortune that can befall a loving husband. 
 His wife, his faithful companion for so many years 
 — who had nobly sustained him during his seasons 
 of depression, early and late ; who had rejoiced at his 
 successes, and been elated at his triumphs; who witnessed 
 his small beginnings, his many struggles for existence 
 or for fame ; who spoke kind words of encouragement 
 when his heart was sinking within him ; and who, when 
 his genius was acknowledged by the world at last, was 
 more proud and happy than himself — ^his loving wife 
 was stricken with a fatal illness, and taken from him. 
 Mrs. Cox was never strong, she was frequently ailing ; 
 nevertheless she lived to be seventy-four — a fair aver- 
 age span of existence. Although her health had for 
 some time been declining, and she felt getting weaker 
 day by day, so that the end might have been seen 
 surely and swiftly approaching, yet when the parting 
 hour arrived poor Cox was completely stunned by the 
 blow, and it was long before he recovered sufficiently 
 to resume his customary pursuits. After the death 
 of his wife the old servant, Ann Towler, was in- 
 stalled as his housekeeper, with a servant under her 
 — Mercy Tomlinson — both much esteemed by Cox's 
 
DEATH OF HIS WIFE. 73 
 
 intimate friends, and both remaining with him until 
 his death. 
 
 In the course of a few weeks after the death of Mrs. 
 Cox, when time had begun to assuage the anguish of 
 separation. Cox, thinking that occupation wo\ild be the 
 best restorative, went up again into his painting-room, 
 and busied himself in looking out his work for the 
 ensuing exhibition of water-colours, and also in com- 
 mencing his first large oil picture of the Vale of Clwyd. 
 This picture he purposed sending to the Eoyal Academy; 
 but as he could not complete it in time, its destination 
 was the exhibition at Liverpool, from which; although 
 extremely moderate in price, it was returned unsold. The 
 artist afterwards parted with it to his frame-maker for 
 a sketch by Miiller, and the frame-maker sold it to a 
 Mr. Spencer, solicitor, of Birmingham, from whom it 
 passed eventually into the fine collection of Mr. William 
 Sharp of Handsworth. This gentleman retained it 
 until induced, after Cox's death, to accept the sum of 
 £2,000 for the work. Besides the "Vale of Clwyd," the 
 smaller picture, " Lancaster Castle," — presented to a 
 friend, and which, at the Grillott sale, brought so large a 
 price (as before mentioned) — was painted during this 
 year. In addition, Cox also made a number of water- 
 colour drawings — some large and important — for the 
 exhibition in Pall MaU. He paid his customary annual 
 visit to London when these drawings were finished, to 
 see how they looked on the walls of the Society's gallery, 
 and to affix prices to them according as they looked ; 
 and then arranged with a party of friends for another 
 
74 BAVin OOX. 
 
 visit to Bolton Abbey, where he remained some time 
 making sketches. No sooner back home again than the 
 charms of " dear Bettws-y-coed " began to draw him 
 like a magnet, and in July he started off once more to 
 that favourite spot, for a month's sojourn. He had 
 become completely fascinated with the locality ; he had 
 found there so much to be done that exactly suited him, 
 and was made so comfortable at his quarters at the 
 "Eoyal Oak," that Bettws became his favourite sketching 
 haunt for ever after. During the month of August m 
 this year the author had the pleasure of joining biTn at 
 Bettws-y-coed, and purposes giving some idea of the 
 place at that time, and of the manner in which David 
 Cox passed his pleasant four or five weeks there on 
 repeated occasions. 
 
OHAPTEE VI. 
 
 1846, et seq. 
 The Flood at Corwen— Bettws-y-coed— The " Eoyal Oak." 
 
 It may not be out of place at the commencement of 
 this chapter to give a brief account of what the author 
 was fortunate enough to witness on his way to Bettws- 
 y-coed for the first time, during the summer of 1846, 
 particularly as it led to the production of one of Cox's 
 finest drawings, entitled, "The Mood." In company 
 with an artist-friend — Mr. Edward Coleman of Bir- 
 mingham — the writer took the train for Chester, on the 
 road to his destination at Bettws (there was no railway 
 to that place in those days), about the second week in 
 August, and thence proceeded by coach to Llangollen, 
 where they slept. On the following morning, after 
 looking about the neighbourhood for an hour, he and 
 his companion made ready to continue their journey by 
 the coach, which left Llangollen for Bangor, passing 
 through the place to which they were bound ; but, 
 finding there was room outside for only one passenger, 
 they hired an open car to take them on their road to 
 Bettws. A short time previous to leaving Birmingham, 
 very heavy and continuous rains had fallen in that part 
 of North Wales, particularly in the district around 
 Corwen, and it was uncertain how far along the road 
 
76 DAVID COX. 
 
 from Llangollen to Corwen they would be able to 
 proceed; but as tbe coach had gone that way, they 
 thought there could be no material difl&culty in following 
 the same route. On their approach to Corwen, however, 
 they were astonished at the scene which presented 
 itself A water-spout had burst on the hills at the 
 back of the little town, and had wrought destruction all 
 around. Although several days had passed since this 
 occurred, torrents of water were still pouring down the 
 mountain-side, carrying with them vast quantities of 
 earth and stones — some of great size — ^into the streets 
 of Corwen, on to the main road, and into the adjacent 
 fields by the Dee-side. It was a spectacle never to be 
 forgotten. Nearly burying the walls bordering the 
 main thoroughfare, soil, gravel, and great rubble-stones 
 lay in heaps ; carts and other vehicles which had been 
 left standing there before the catastrophe were almost 
 concealed from sight under the debris; houses and 
 shops were fiUed with water and sand ; while many of 
 the residents were wandering about in a state of be- 
 wilderment, not knowing how to repair the mischief 
 which had been brought about. A Wesleyan chapel, 
 standing rather below the road, had been almost 
 wrecked (a staff of women-scavengers were then busily 
 at work, clearing out the water and rubbish with which 
 it was filled) ; but the old church of Corwen, standing 
 on rising ground, had altogether escaped injury, though 
 torrents were still rushing down beside and around it, 
 hissing and roaring as they fell. When the author and 
 his friend — having obtained a fresh horse and convey- 
 
THE FLOOD AT COBWBN -. 1846. 77 
 
 ance at the " Grlendwr's Arms " — ^passed out of Corwen, 
 on their way, a small auction was going on, of damaged 
 drapery goods, from the door-step of a shop, a crowd of 
 about a dozen persons standing at front, and a salesman, 
 with a keen eye to business, taking the " bids." "When 
 the travellers arrived at their journey's end, they de- 
 scribed to Mr. Cox the scene and the incidents they had 
 observed, and suggested to him the desirability of his 
 returning home by way of Corwen, and making a sketch 
 of the place and event, which he did • and the powerful 
 drawing of " The Flood " was the result. 
 
 Grreat was the disappointment of the travellers when 
 they reached Bettws to find that the ',' Eoyal Oak " was 
 full, and that they could not sleep there. Cox, who 
 came out to welcome them, was also much vexed, but 
 recommended them to go on to the " Eagle," at 
 Llanrwst for a short time, untU there was room at' the 
 "Oak." On the following morning, before they had 
 come down-stairs, the servant knocked at their bed-room 
 door, to say that a gentleman was waiting in the 
 coffee-room to see them. Whoever could he be ? They 
 knew no one at Llanrwst. Much to their astonishment, 
 they discovered the unexpected visitor was no other than 
 their friend Cox, who had walked over the fields, a dis- 
 tance of three miles, to breakfast with them, and to 
 convey the pleasing intelligence that there would be 
 room for them at the " Eoyal Oak " that night, as some 
 visitors were going to leave during the day. This was 
 very gratifying news indeed ; and soon after breakfast 
 a car was ordered, and the delighted party, with bag and 
 
78 DArin cox. 
 
 baggage, in a very short time landed at Bettws-y-coed, 
 to stay tliere in each, other's company until the expiration 
 of their visit. 
 
 And this was Bettws-y-coed, about which we had 
 heard so mnch ! " And you '11 liAe it," said Cox, as 
 we descended from the car to enter the humble Httle 
 hostelry, " I hope, as well as I do." Sure enough, we 
 did like it ; and, after the example of Cox, repeated our 
 visits again and again. The author will never forget 
 his impressions on entering the place by broad dayhght. 
 The morning was one as lovely as ever broke upon earth. 
 The sun was weU up, and shone brightly from over the 
 hill- tops upon the little cluster of cottages nestling cosily 
 among the foliage at the foot of overhanging crags, and 
 which sent aloft, in sweet blue wreaths, the fragrant peat 
 smoke from about a dozen fires. The hills behind the 
 village were clothed with verdure almost to their crests ; 
 here and there a mass of dark-grey rock towering above 
 the green of climbing trees, caught on its edges the 
 sun's rays, and was brought out to the eye in bold reUef. 
 The neighbouring and encircling eminences — some bare 
 and craggy, others covered with thick woods to their 
 tops — were partially enveloped in the haze of a summer 
 day, which gave them an inexpressible softness, whilst 
 silvery streams came tumbling down their sides from 
 bog and tarn far away upon the moors, flashing through 
 the green of the bordering trees, or f aUing from rock to 
 rock in lines of unbroken whiteness down to the valley 
 below. * The liver Llugwy, well filled by recent rains, 
 was dashing along its course on the opposite side of the 
 
BETTWS-Y-COED. ,79 
 
 road, Tinderneath the wall, brown as umber, from tbe 
 bogs and peat-stained waters of the upper country, 
 bearing along great flakes of foam, whirling through 
 rocks and stones, boiling and foaming on its way. Birds 
 were chirruping in the bright sunshine, cattle were 
 lowing in the fields, Chanticleer and his dames were 
 strutting about the road, near the inn door, the village 
 folk moving leisurely along ; while, to crown all, 
 friends from home, who were travelling through "Wales, 
 had pulled up at the "Eoyal Oak," and were waiting 
 to shake hands — a most gratifying surprise ! — ere 
 they proceeded on their journey. The party were Mr. 
 Grillott and his daughters, who had heard that David 
 Cox was staying at Bettws. 
 
 Every one now-a-days has seen Bettws-y-coed. It 
 is known well through the length and breadth of the 
 land. It would therefore be foolishness to give its 
 latitude and longitude, or to say that it is situated on 
 the great Holyhead Eoad, running from Shrewsbury, 
 through Bangor, to Holyhead. Once on a time, when 
 David Cox first made its acquaintance, it was by no 
 means so well known and so frequently visited as at 
 present, being then but an unpretending, insignificant 
 Welsh village, of no account at all. The exquisite 
 features of the surrounding scenery would seem not to 
 have attracted the notice of any artist capable of tran- 
 scribing them in such a manner as to call forth the 
 admiration of the connoisseurs, or create in the nature- 
 loving breast of some favoured tourist a desire to 
 sojourn in the place, with a view to behold for himself 
 
80 DAVID OOX. 
 
 the many picturesque beauties to be found on every 
 side. Edmund Burke is said to have spoken of the Vale 
 of Conway, or rather of Llanrwst, in high terms, as 
 containing some of the loveliest views he had ever 
 beheld, surpassing even those in the far-famed Vale of 
 Llangollen ; but beyond this no eulogium had been 
 pronounced on the scenery around Bettws-y-coed. 
 Until David Cox honoured it with his visits, and 
 brought his genius to bear upon its numberless charms, 
 it was comparatively unknown. In consequence chiefly 
 of his labours in this rich field, shoals of visitors now 
 flock to the place. Bettws, in the season, is overrun 
 with tourists; and artists, male and female, are to 
 be seen on every hillside and under every green tree. 
 This is Cox's doing. Like Caesar of old, " he came, he 
 saw, he conquered ; " and the name of David Cox will 
 ever be associated with Bettws-y-coed, as long as land- 
 scape art endures. 
 
 For a long succession of summers the famous artist 
 might have been seen — with ruddy complexion, a figure 
 by no means slight, and " clad in a suit of sober grey " 
 lounging before the " Eoyal Oak," smoking a cigar, or 
 issuing from its then humble portal, sketch-book in 
 hand, after an early breakfast, to jot down with rapid 
 strokes the leading features of some lovely " bit " near 
 at hand, or to trace the lines of some more extensive 
 subject, more distant, in the Lledr valley, or by the 
 side of the beautiful Conway river. He could find 
 nothing in the whole Principality that retained such a 
 hold on his affections — not even the fine scenery around 
 
"COX'S LAND." M 
 
 restiniog, Dolgelly, Llangollen, Barmouth, or elsewhere 
 — as the charming views and subjects with which his 
 favourite Bettws locality abounded. During his last 
 days, when incapable of travelling, he delighted to recall 
 to memory the features of the spot, and frequently 
 exclaimed how happy he should be if he could behold 
 " dear old Bettws " once again ! 
 
 It has been well said : — " The country all around 
 may be said to be Cox's land. Every wide expanse, or 
 lofty mountain, every nook and corner, every object 
 that meets the eye, every incident, and every effect that 
 can occur in such a district, has furnished a subject for 
 his prolific pencU. The wild uplands and craggy steeps, 
 flooded in sunshine or veiled in mists ; the brawling 
 stream and flashing torrent, where the water comes 
 dancing from the hills, leaping from rock to rock with 
 a great rush and a great cry, as only mountain-torrents 
 can, seaming their sides with threads of silvery hue and 
 brightness — peat-gatherers and fern-gatherers, splashing 
 through boggy fens, or wending their weary way to 
 strange out-of-the-way places on the hill-side or moun- 
 tain-top, where not unfrequently the poor but 
 hospitable owner will startle the visitor by producing 
 a sketch or other memorial of some artist, perhaps 
 now of established and wide-spread reputation, or long 
 since removed from the scene of his triumphs and his 
 mortifications, who years gone by had found shelter 
 beneath the lowly, storm-buffeted roof. Shepherds 
 tending th.eir flocks, that browse peacefully among the 
 grey stones up the mountain tops ; or collecting them 
 
82 DAVID a OX. 
 
 hurriedly together at the approach of night or tempest ; 
 or counting them, one by one, as they rush through an 
 open gate into some little enclosure. Drovers, with 
 their great herds of cattle streaming in interminable 
 succession along the roads on their way to the markets 
 of England ; ruddy girls, in short jackets, and pro- 
 bably without shoes or stockings, their long locks flying 
 in the wind, standing on some point of vantage near 
 the house door, and summoning the distant farm- 
 labourers to their meal with a blast on the bullock's 
 horn ; fishermen throwing their enticing fly from the 
 rocky river-banks, or groping for salmon, elbow deep 
 in the traps which are set here and there along the 
 stream. These incidents, and many more, characteristic 
 of the country, have been noticed by the observant 
 artist, and recorded in his immortal works." 
 
 Grreat are the changes which Bettws-y-coed has 
 undergone since David Cox first visited the place. At 
 that time it could boast of only one little inn, a 
 wretched house, with miserable accommodation. No 
 artist who had been tempted to stay at Bettws for a 
 few days' sketching, would care to venture a second 
 time under the roof of such an uncomfortable hostelry. 
 It was called the " Hand," and was situated just over 
 the bridge of " Pont-y-pair," on the road to Llanrwst. 
 In course of time, partly in consequence of many inter- 
 esting drawings made and exhibited by Cox from 
 the Bettws scenery, which drew attention to the place, 
 an increased demand for accommodation sprang up, 
 and other small inns arose in the village, the " Eoyal 
 
THE OLD "BOYAL OAK" AT BETTW8. 83 
 
 Oak," kept by Edward Eoberts, being perhaps the most 
 comfortable of the whole. There was among them 
 the " Swan," situated near the toll-gate, at which Cox 
 once or twice stayed ; but the " Oak " eventually 
 became his favourite quarters. When the author first 
 saw it, in 1846, he must confess that he was surprised 
 at its unpretending appearance. It stood close beside 
 the road : was a long, low building only chamber higb , 
 and coloured of a mild salmon-tint. Like other humble 
 houses in the Principality, the door opened with a 
 thumb-latch, when it was closed, which was not very 
 often, admitting visitors to the kitchen, the better class 
 passing through it, and likewise through the group of 
 farm-labourers and other rustic guests, smoking pipes 
 and drinking their ale by the fire-side, along a short, 
 dark passage into the parlour, reserved for company of 
 " the higher order." On entering the front door the 
 eye caught a glimpse of the bedroom staircase, very 
 steep and very narrow, the sides of which from bottom 
 to top were decorated with saddles and harness, re- 
 quiring occasionally dexterous steering by visitors on 
 the way to bed, to avoid a blow in the face from some 
 unduly projecting piece of horse -furniture. Bacon and 
 hams hung from the kitchen ceiling, ripened and mel- 
 lowed, no doubt, by the clouds of smoke from the peat 
 fires. The little -parlour was snug and comfortable 
 enough. It boasted of a proper diniag-table, a couch 
 more or less easy — rather less than more — and a sufii- 
 cient number of chairs for all the guests it could con- 
 tain. The walls were decorated with a few prints, and 
 g2 
 
84 DAVID COX. 
 
 not unfrequently with a sketch or two pinned to the 
 paper by some artist staying in the house. The visitor 
 at that time will recollect the bold fresco of " Catherine 
 Douglas Barring the Castle Door with her Arm," 
 after Eedgrave, which Cox executed in water-colour on 
 the unsightly bare plaster of a bricked-up doorway in 
 the room, which had not been papered over. The 
 bedrooms — well, there was one fairly comfortable 
 sleeping apartment, containing two beds, which was 
 invariahly given to Cox when stopping at the "Oak," 
 and he occupied both beds, one to sleep in, the other 
 to lay his drawings upon. Not much can be said for 
 the other chambers. On the author's first visit, he had 
 to put up with a small room over the stable, the house 
 being full, and he passed to it by the family apartment of 
 the landlord and his son and daughter, just screened from 
 observation by a drawn curtain ; then through another 
 room, occasionally occupied by drovers on the road to 
 some market; and so on, into the chamber set apart 
 for his use over the stable. It may be imagined that 
 his slumbers on the first night or two were not of the 
 soundest. What with the black-looking drovers blun- 
 dering into the room at dead of night, and the rest- 
 lessness of "the quadrupeds below, "tired Nature's 
 sweet restorer, balmy sleep," was intermittent in her 
 visits. In short, the " Eoyal Oak " was a very un- 
 pretending little inn indeed; but the accommodation, 
 to those accustomed to rough it on their rambles, was 
 such as might readily be endured. The host and his 
 daughter, Miss Mary Eoberts, were civil and obliging ; 
 
cox AT TEE "BOTAL OAK." 85 
 
 and the provision they made for the " entertainment " 
 of their customers, as regards table comforts, was 
 worthy of all commendation. Board and lodging, at 
 the time mentioned above, to members of the artist 
 profession who were likely to stay some time in the 
 house, were charged a guinea per week ; but these low 
 terms were afterwards raised to twenty-five shillings, 
 when accommodation at Bettws became more sought 
 after, and provisions rose in price. David Cox was 
 very happy at this humble little inn, and so were 
 the friends who joined him there, as well as those 
 passing travellers who were induced by the beauty 
 of the surrounding scenery to stay a short time at 
 the " Oak." During the sketching season, Bettws, 
 as it became better known, was often filled to over- 
 flowing with amateurs and artists. Their white tents 
 and umbrellas, to be seen in whichever direction the 
 eye turned, suggested to the visitor the encampment 
 of an invading army. In every road or lane, on every 
 eminence or river-bank, the artist was encountered, 
 bearing 'his paraphernalia to or from the sketching- 
 ground, or beheld busily at work transferring to canvas 
 the beautiful objects before him ; whilst in the evenings, 
 after the labours of the day, he was seen chatting with 
 his fellows at the inn door, smoking pipe or cigar, 
 and enjoying the delicious calm of the closing day. 
 Not unfrequently two or three resident artists would 
 drop in at the " Oak," after tea, to pay their respects 
 to "Mr. Cox," to talk over the doings of the day, 
 and discuss a glass of whisky -toddy with their pipes. 
 
86 BAVID COX. 
 
 Many a delightful evening has been thus spent, and 
 many valuable hints for future practice have been 
 carried away from the small sitting-room in the old 
 house, when the " Master " was honouring Bettws with 
 his customary visit. 
 
 The popular landscape painter and Eoyal Academi- 
 cian, Mr. Thomas Creswick, sometimes stayed for a short 
 time at the " Oak," just to paint one or two pictures, 
 and away back to London. He made himself very agree- 
 able to his less eminent brother artists in the house, who 
 looked up to him as standing on the topmost round of 
 the ladder of fame, and consequently as an object of 
 respect and admiration. David Cox, not being an 
 Academician, nor likely to become one, did not perhaps 
 inspire those feehngs of reverential awe in the youthful 
 mind as did his more fortunate and titled competitor ; 
 but he undoubtedly was regarded with greater affection, 
 and by some who could see further into the secret 
 places of art and nature, was held to be the possessor of 
 " gifts " which in the end would secure for him such a 
 reputation as his lucky rival would never obtain. And 
 who will say that time has not justified their con- 
 victions? Other artists, now eminent in their profes- 
 sion, or since then gone to the grave, occasionally made 
 the " Eoyal Oak " their temporary abode during the 
 sketching season, and assembled round the dinner table 
 with Cox and his friends when the work of the day had 
 been ended, beguiling the evening hours with pleasant 
 friendly talk. 
 
OHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Bettws-y-coed {eontimied) — Cox at tlie " Royal Oak." 
 
 " Deak old Bettws !" This was the loving phrase often 
 applied by David Cox to his favourite sketching haunt, 
 after he had made himself fully acquainted with the 
 charms of its scenery, and had found such comfortable 
 quarters at the " Eoyal Oak." He was quite at home 
 there. Everybody was kind to him; everybody was 
 studious to please and make him happy. From the 
 landlord. Miss Mary Roberts, and the son, who often 
 drove him to his painting ground, down to the lad who 
 carried his traps, and the old woman who knitted his 
 winter stockings, all were delighted to see him come to 
 Bettws again on his annual visit, and all did their best 
 to make that visit for him a happy memory. And Cox 
 was happy there. He did good work there. He was 
 at the height of his power when there. His art- 
 knowledge had culminated, and his ability to apply it 
 to the subjects he there found to delineate had by long 
 practice become all that could be desired. There he felt 
 himself a strong man, the conscious possessor of genius 
 at its maturity. IsTo wonder he was happy at " dear 
 Bettws ! " No wonder that he was enraptured with its 
 scenic beauties ! No wonder that he had an affectionate 
 regard even for its very name ! 
 
«8 BAVIB OOX. 
 
 The auttor is tempted to insert here some lines 
 written during one of his own visits to Bettws-y-coed. 
 He thinks that something like the same thoughts and 
 emotions passed through the mind of David Cox, as he 
 gazed upon the varied loveliness of hUl and dale, wood 
 ^nd water, rock and mountain. 
 
 BETTWS-T-COED. 
 
 Man loves the place he has been happy in. 
 
 And thinks it is the sweetest spot of earth. 
 
 The heart doth make it what it seems to be. 
 
 Coining the beautiful where little is. 
 
 And where "tis rife enhancing every charm. 
 
 No matter if it be some poor dull spot, 
 
 Where Nature has been niggard and unkind. 
 
 Owning no grace to fix the roving eye — 
 
 Barren and bleak — ^tame, featureless, and drear; 
 
 Or like thee, Bettws ! fairest of the fair ! 
 
 Where all we see is bfeautiful and grand ! 
 
 Around whose humble cots (that nestle sweet 
 
 In woody shelter under beetling rocks), 
 
 On every side, whichever way we stroll. 
 
 The loveliest scenes and objects meet the gaze, 
 
 Stamping their impress on the mind for aye. 
 
 Majestic are thy hills, along whose sides 
 
 Oft trail the stooping clouds ! The mountain-peaks 
 
 That rim thy grand horizon, are sublime, 
 
 High-tow'ring above all, enwreath'd with mist, 
 
 Or clear, with sunshine, in the blue serene ! 
 
 The streams that wind amid thy peaceful vales, 
 
 And joining soon in happy marriage-bonds 
 
 Glide on in silvery beauty to the sea : 
 
 Oh ! who can praise enough their many charms. 
 
 As on along their sinuous course they sweep 
 
 Past rocky heights and tempest-toppled crags. 
 
 With breaks and falls and thund'rous. cataracts 
 
 That steam with spray, and shake the earth afar ! 
 
 Or 'neath the pleasant shelter of green boughs, 
 
 'Mid softer, gentler scenes — by farm and field — 
 
CHANGES AT BETTW8. 89 
 
 The cottage-paddock and the soothing lawn — 
 Oft spreading into glassy pools, so stUl 
 That not a ripple frets, and in whose depths 
 Th' embow'ring trees are imaged, fair and bright — 
 The grand o'ertopping mountains — and the sky — 
 The summer sky — arrayed in blue and gold. 
 Along their banks the angler oft is seen, 
 Throwing his tempting fly from mom till night, 
 With hope that burns a never-dying flame, 
 And patience that might flt a man for heav'n. 
 There, too, the artist, perched on vantage-point, 
 Is oft descried, absorbed in his high task 
 Of limning Nature's varied loveliness. 
 And toiling sore for immortality. 
 
 The grace of clustering, pleasant foliage, 
 Thou lack'st not, Bettws ! for thou'rt rich in trees ; 
 Amid the many mountain- wastes of Wales 
 'Tis thy peculiar charm. Trees cUmb thy hiUs 
 Up to their tops, and o'er their stony sides 
 Spread a green garb to hide their nakedness. 
 Thy vales and verdant meads are full of trees. 
 That lend a covert from the summer sun, 
 Which flashes through the gaps of tangled boughs 
 Only to chequer and make fair our path. 
 
 Words cannot paint thy loveliness, nor tell 
 Of half thy charms ! By those who know the well 
 This will at once be yielded ; but the rest 
 Will deem thee all unworthy of such praise. 
 . Sweetest of spots of which dear Wales can boast ! 
 What heart could wish a fairer paradise 
 Whereia to pass the evening hours of life ? 
 
 David Cox's much-lovQd humble tome at this 
 charming place has disappeared from the scene alto- 
 gether, and, as everybody knows, a large commodious 
 hotel has taken possession of the site once occupied by 
 its lowly predecessor. In lieu of a few plodding 
 pedestrians, knapsack on back and staff in hand ; with 
 a speculative fisherman or two, armed with rod and 
 basket; or a weary artist, hungry and travel-stained, 
 
90 DAVID OOX. 
 
 picture beneatt his arm, and easel across h.is shoulder, 
 lounging before the door for a few minutes' chat ere 
 sitting down to dinner in the little old-fashioned parlour 
 of the old " Eoyal Oak ; " — now crowds of tourists may 
 be seen any fine day in the season, promenading ia 
 front of the windows of the grand new hotel ; playiag 
 croquet in the garden, or sitting down in the evening 
 to a luxurious repast at its table d'hote. Bettws-y-coed 
 has within a few years become a busy bustling little 
 place. A railway running straight into it, brings daily, 
 through the summer, scores — nay, hundreds — of visitors 
 from Llanrwst, Conway, Llandudno, Ehyl, and other 
 neighbouring towns ; and another, more recently made, 
 running through the entire length of the lovely valley 
 of the Lledr, from Bettws to Festiniog, is intended to 
 convey lead and slates from the latter place to the 
 main line at Conway, and old women with eggs and 
 butter to the market at Llanrwst. Horror of horrors ! 
 a stone bridge with several arches carries this railway 
 across the famous Heron Pool, which many will re- 
 member at a bend of the river just beyond the little 
 " Fish Inn " (now turned into an office), once a con- 
 venient halting-place for artists desirous of painting 
 the scenery of the valley. The Heron Pool has often 
 afforded a subject for their pencil, and many a passing 
 tourist has stopped awhile to admire it. In this vaUey 
 Cox made many sketches, and found subjects for some 
 of his finest drawings. That grand work, entitled the 
 " Eagle's Crag," was executed from a part of the valley 
 between the " Fish Inn " and the romantic bridge of 
 
CHANGH8 AT BETTWS. 91 
 
 Pont-y-pant, at the furthermost end. Immense frag- 
 ments of rock, fallen from the cliffs above, cover the 
 hill-side with masses of every size and shape, lying 
 about in wild confusion, and imparting to the scene 
 an appearance of savage grandeur. The road to Dol- 
 wyddelan passes through the midst of this sublime part 
 of the Lledr valley, and a feeling of awe comes over the 
 traveller as he wends his way underneath and among 
 these huge blocks of stone which time and the elements 
 have flung around him. Through the length of this 
 lovely valley it is that this new railway takes its 
 course, with what efiect on the scenery may be readily 
 imagined ; and " dear old Bettws " has lost the quiet, 
 out-of-the-world, friendly look which some fondly re- 
 member thirty years ago. There is a well-appointed 
 station close at hand, with omnibuses, cabs, and other 
 vehicles continually plying to and from the trains. 
 Lodging-houses have sprung up on every side ; and 
 shops for the sale of various merchandise display their 
 wares along the great road that runs through the once 
 sequestered village. "When the author first visited 
 Bettws, in 1846, it could boast of only one small shop 
 — a mere cottage, with a little window, in which a few 
 useful articles were exposed for sale — tea, sugar, candles, 
 soap, and other things the villagers might require. A 
 small stock of turpentine was generally kept there, in 
 case any artist staying in the place should run short of 
 that indispensable article. Much Welsh, and a little 
 English, was spoken at "the shop." Since that time 
 the petty village has made a great stride in advance. 
 
92 DAVID COX. 
 
 The old cturcli has been found too small to accommo- 
 date the visitors who crowd into Bettws during "the 
 season," and a new one has been erected, devoted to 
 the English-speaking community entirely. More sur- 
 prising still ! at ■ the back of the old church, and near 
 the side of the "sweet-flowing" river Conway, the visitor 
 may behold in all its ugliness an unsightly gasometer, 
 placed there for the very desirable purpose of lighting 
 " dear old Bettws " with gas ! The railway station, 
 with its shrieking engines and multitudinous noises, 
 almost abuts upon the wall of the old churchyard, 
 with its venerable yews, once sacred to quiet, and 
 sweet with the repose of its secluded position amid the 
 mountains that screened it from the world ; and a wide 
 thoroughfare now conducts the traveller to the raUway- 
 platform, near the very spot, and almost over the very 
 ground, where of old might have been seen, on a Sab- 
 bath morning, groups of pious villagers wending their 
 way, in twos and threes, to that sacred fabric where for 
 generations their forefathers had assembled to offer up 
 their prayers. Cox's beautiful and impressive picture, 
 " A Welsh Funeral," was painted from an incident he 
 witnessed on the spot here described. A young woman 
 of the village had died of consumption, and was being 
 carried to her resting-place in the old churchyard, down 
 the ancient road — grass-grown, stony, and bordered with 
 rank weeds — followed by a crowd of men, women, and 
 children in motley garb, some with a bit of mourning 
 thrown over their dress out of respect to the deceased, 
 and all solemnly and silently following the coffin to the 
 
THE " WELSH FUNERAL." 93 
 
 grave. The road — a narrow lane — was then skirted 
 and overhung with venerable sycamores, which flung 
 broad shadows across the path, and formed a somewhat 
 gloomy approach to the sacred edifice ; but the evening 
 sun on that occasion shone upon the tree-tops, glinted 
 on the old belfry, and threw its glowing rays over the 
 sweet background of purple mountains seen beyond the 
 church, whilst here and there a glittering beam fell 
 through the branches of the trees on one or two of the 
 throng slowly wending their way down the lane. 
 David Cox seized on this touching incident, and fixed 
 it upon canvas for the delight of all sympathetic hearts. 
 The picture (he repeated the subject, with variations, 
 several times, both in oil and water-colours) is certainly 
 one of his most impressive works, and is handled with 
 a skill peculiarly happy. The large water-colour draw- 
 ing of this subject, exhibited at the PaU MaU Gallery 
 in 1850 — a truly magnificent production — strange to 
 say, did not find a ready purchaser there, although its 
 price was extremely low. Mr. Topham, the eminent 
 artist, induced a prizeholder in the London Art Union 
 to make choice of it for his prize of £50 ; but this 
 individual soon became tired of it (not being pretty 
 enough, probably, for his taste), and, Mr. Topham, dis- 
 gusted, doubtless, took it off his hands, giving him the 
 money, which most Likely pleased him a great deal 
 better. This fine drawing is now in the collection ot 
 Mr. F. Craven, of Manchester. 
 
 Cox, as it has been before said, felt himself quite at 
 home at the " Eoyal Oak," where everything possible was 
 
94 DAVID COX. 
 
 done to insure his comfort and convenience. He was a 
 sort o£ little king at Bettws, was waited on, respected, 
 and beloved by aU who came into contact with him. 
 Lord Willoughby might be owner of the soil, but David 
 Cox was lord of the people's affections. Many a kind 
 thing has been done for him by the poor residents about 
 the place, and many a kindness has he rendered to them 
 in return. His arrival was not unfrequently marked by 
 a small present of tobacco for some smoker, or a pocket- 
 knife for the boy who usually carried his painting 
 " traps ; " and an old woman, whom he had known 
 some time, was speedily set to work to knit woollen 
 stockings for his own wear, and for some of his 
 Birmingham friends. There was generally a great 
 contention among the village lads as to which should 
 be his " tiger," to carry the sketching apparatus for the 
 season ; and " Mr. Cox's boy " always looked upon him- 
 self as in the proudest position of them all. Not even 
 the lad who carried the easel and colour-box for Mr. 
 Thomas Creswick, the great E.A., felt so elated and 
 raised above his fellows, as did "little John," who, with 
 canvas on back' and sketching-stool in hand, trotted in 
 the rear of David Cox, the veteran artist and kind- 
 hearted man, who gave himself no airs of greatness, but 
 went about humbly and unpretendingly, and had a good- 
 natured word for every one he met. To young artists 
 of his acquaintance who were trying their " 'prentice 
 hands " upon the scenery of Bettws, he often gave most 
 valuable hints, and sometimes took their palette and 
 pencils in hand, to show them how to master the difii- 
 
•"FAT HOYLE" : A CHABACTBB. 95 
 
 culties that beat them down. "Well, how are you getting 
 
 on ? " he has said to one of these aspirants for fame 
 
 whom he has encountered on the way. " Oh, Mr. Cox, 
 
 I am making a terrihle daub of my picture. I find 
 
 nature a great deal too hard for me to imitate." " And 
 
 so it has been many a time for me ; and I have often 
 
 rubbed out my morning's work, disgusted with what I 
 
 had done. Lend me your palette and brushes, and I 
 
 will do a bit for you." And he has sat down to battle 
 
 with the difiicult part, and by a few effective touches 
 
 has soon put matters right, to the surprise and 
 
 gratification of the discomfited tyro.* He has said 
 
 to a friend, " Mr. has kindly given me a tube of 
 
 * There was at that time a resident at the " Royal Oak," of the name 
 of Hoyle, a remarkably stout man, known to all the visitors as " Pat 
 Hoyle." This gentleman, who possessed some small artistic abilities 
 occasionally essayed his skill in painting from nature, but very frequently 
 broke down under difficulties which he found insurmountable. He was 
 prone to call in the aid of his friend Oox, who might happen to be near 
 him when at work, to show him how to overcome the difficulty. "Mr. 
 Cox, will you kindly put a few touches on my sky ? I cannot make the 
 clouds float as they should do.'' In fact, the clouds were as hard as iron, 
 and as heavy. Cox would smile at the request, take up Hoyle's palette 
 and brushes, and in a short time paint over, not the sky only, but nearly 
 the whole of Hoyle's sketch, burying completely that amateur's own work. 
 Many a picture of Hoyle's did David Oox " touch up " in this manner, 
 and turn an abortive effort into a saleable production. To those who were 
 not in the secret, Hoyle used sometimes to exhibit these sketches as pro- 
 ductions of his own, and surprise his visitors with his cleverness. He was 
 a jolly sort of fellow in his way, and many of the sojourners at the " Oak " 
 liked him. He always took the head of the table at dinner, and carved 
 for the party. Artists who visited Bettws for the first time, found him of 
 service to them in many respects. He was well acquainted with all the 
 picturesque and paintahle subjects of the district. He would direct them 
 where to find the grand views and choice " bits " which Cox, or Creswick, 
 or some other eminent artist, had drawn and painted. " Mr. Cox, sir, 
 made a grand thing from the subject I tell you of; "or, " Mr. Creswick, 
 
96 BAVID GOX. 
 
 wliite " (or some other colour of whicli lie was deficient). 
 " I will mate him a little drawing before I go home," 
 and a very charming sketch has been the welcome 
 compensation. His advice to young artists whom he 
 saw working with great timidity and slowness, was, 
 " Don't spare the paint ! Use plenty of colour, and 
 da6 at it ! " Yery excellent advice too ; as it not 
 unfrequently happens that the result of much pains- 
 taking, with only a half-filled brush, is an extremely 
 tame, insipid picture. Cox knew "that the spirit of a 
 scene was more likely to be caught by painting rapidly 
 with a pencil well charged with pigment, than by 
 devoting days or weeks to the subject, elaborating eaoh 
 part with painful slowness and a pencil only just' tipped 
 with colour. 
 
 the Royal Academician, painted a fine large picture, which he sold for a 
 considerable sum, on the spot I pointed out to him ill the Lledr valley. 
 You will find it just beyond the bridge. I sat beside him the greater part 
 o£ a day, whilst he was at work. He was a very rapid painter, sir, and 
 nearly finished the picture at a sitting." Hoyle could relate many anec- 
 dotes of the artist brotherhood who visited Bettws during his residence 
 there, and over his evening glass would often be very good company. He 
 was fond of fishing, as well as of painting, and was useful to the disciples 
 of Izaak Walton, who paid their half-crown a day to " try " for trout or 
 salmon in the rivers of Bettws. He knew many of the likely places for 
 fish, and made friends by giving information. Latterly, when he became 
 extremely stout, he found the exercise of fishing too fatiguing, and 
 contented himself with looking on while others followed the sport. His 
 rod was suspended over the door of the little parlour of the " Oak," when 
 he lodged there, and he had many an exploit to boast of in connection 
 with that interesting instrument. David Cox made a clever sketch of 
 him, walking along .with his rod over his broad shoulder, and carrying a 
 large salmon by the gUls. It was a back view, in his tartan coat and 
 breeks, and with the " wide-awake " hat and feather knowingly cocked on 
 the side of his head. Poor " Fat Hoyle " has been many years buried in 
 Bettws Churchyard. 
 
TEE SIGNBOARD AT THE "ROYAL OAK." 97 
 
 It is well known, to thousands now, that David Cox 
 painted the sign once suspended above the door of the 
 " Eoyal Oak." Since the artist's death, this has been 
 framed and glazed at the expense of some old sojourners 
 at the inn, and removed into the house — ^hanging, when 
 the writer last saw it, in the entrance-haU of the 
 present great hotel. It is rather coarsely executed. 
 Cox's practice as a scene-painter at the theatres in early 
 days having taught him the kind of manipulation 
 required to make the subject effectively seen at a dis- 
 tance ; nevertheless, it exhibits ideas and touches very 
 characteristic of the artist. King Charles is partially 
 beheld, seated in the middle of the great oak — a fine 
 old forest tree — ^but, in violation of all established rule 
 in treating the subject, he does not wear his golden 
 crown, being much more appropriately dressed for the 
 occasion ! The original sign had for a long time battled 
 with sun and rain, so that its pristine brightness had 
 considerably faded. In fact, it had become a very 
 enigmatical affair, and certainly required a few words 
 underneath to inform the passing traveller that it was 
 the veritable " Eoyal Oak " he was indeed gazing at. 
 Cox had promised the landlord that some fine day, when 
 he should have nothing better to do, he would " touch 
 it up," and restore its faded charms. Accordingly, one 
 day he procured a ladder, and with palette on thumb, and 
 a handful of brushes, he set vigorously to work. He 
 had not been long thus occupied, dabbing away with 
 plenty of pigment, the forest monarch putting forth 
 new foliage of most verdant hue, and the herbage at 
 
 H 
 
98 DAVIB COX. 
 
 foot springing into life and beauty at every toucli, when 
 it suddenly occurred to him that his position at that 
 moment was not a very dignified one for an artist of 
 reputation, and that should any one pass who knew 
 him, a story might be circulated not greatly to his 
 advantage. But he comforted himself with the reflec- 
 tion that possibly he might get through his task un- 
 observed, or that, if noticed at all by any passing 
 traveller, he would be taken to be the legitimate sign- 
 painter of the district, who had been engaged to do the 
 job. Before long he heard the sound of a carriage 
 approaching. " Now," thought he, " I'm caught ! " 
 StiU he kept his place on the ladder, and painted away, 
 never looking round to ascertain who or what was 
 comiQg. Grreatly to his dismay, the vehicle stopped at 
 the very foot of the ladder, the carriage' door was 
 opened, the steps were let down, and presently he 
 perceived a sweet female face peeping at him from 
 below. " Why, it is Mr. Cox, I declare ! " greeted his 
 ear, and made him almost drop to the ground. " You 
 are not painting for fame, sir, now ! " Looking down, 
 he discovered that the lady was an old London pupU, 
 who had recently been married, and was then traveUing 
 through Wales with her husband. 
 
 In the previous chapter it has been said that Cox 
 embellished the parlour of the " Eoyal Oak " with a 
 large picture in water-colour on the bare plaster of a 
 bricked-up doorway — " Catherine Douglas Barring the 
 Castle Door with her Arm " — after Eedgrave. This was 
 done on a wet day, when he could not get out of the 
 
THE VISITORS' BOOK AT THE " OAK." 99 
 
 house. It was effectively painted, and surprised many 
 a stranger on first entering tlie room. Great care was 
 taken to preserve it uninjured. Cox also purchased the 
 first portion of a visitors' book for the house, and 
 made a clever vignette drawing of a " Forest Oak " as 
 a frontispiece, inscribing his name on the first page. 
 This book soon became filled with names of visitors, 
 sketches by amateurs and artists, verses, and occasional 
 remarks ; so that it had to be enlarged by repeated 
 additions, and became a bulky work of several volumes. 
 Some of the drawings it contained were made by artists 
 of eminence, who were staying at the "Oak," but 
 whether they are to be found at the present time where 
 they were originally placed is by no means certain. 
 Visitors' books, particularly at houses of entertainment 
 like the " Eoyal Oak," have too frequently been pil- 
 laged by unscrupulous persons of whatever meritorious 
 works of art they possessed ; these genteel robbers 
 doubtless being of opinion that they had as good a 
 right to what they could lay hands on, and secretly 
 convey away, as the owners of the books. It is to be 
 feared that the visitors' book at the " Oak " has not 
 altogether escaped the spoiler. 
 
 h2 
 
OHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 Cox at BettwB {contimiedj^Sketohiiig Trips in the Vicinity — Bad Weather. 
 
 Very delightful were the little sketching excursions 
 which the writer, in company with David Cox and other 
 urtist-friends, frequently made in the district around 
 Bettws-y-coed. A vehicle was chartered to convey the 
 party to the spot chosen for the day's work — painters, 
 " tigers," materials, and all ! And off they started, soon 
 after breakfast, full of spirits, and with the hope of a 
 fine day before them. Joke, anecdote, and innocent 
 merriment enlivened the way.. "I trust it will keep 
 fine," said one. " I am afraid it will rain," said another, 
 observing a thin curtain of migt drawing along the tops 
 of the hills. " He who watcheth the clouds shall want 
 in harvest," said a third, quoting Scripture for encour- 
 agement. " I believe it will be a fine day, and perhaps 
 a hot one," struck in Mr. Cox. " See ! the crows are 
 going off to the hills, and cattle are seeking the high 
 lands — almost infallible signs of fine weather. But 
 suppose the day should turn out showery ? Wales is 
 far grander under lowering skies than beneath a bright 
 aud glittering sun. I love to see the mists hanging 
 about the mountain-tops, and the distant peaks almost 
 black with intensity of colour. Let me also catch a 
 glimpse of a horizontal streak of hght between and 
 
A SKBTCS-DAY AT CAPEL CUBia. 101 
 
 beyond those far-off peaks, just to indicate that it is not 
 going to be stormy for ever ! — to afford one spot of 
 repose for the eye and mind to dwell on in the tem- 
 pestuous scene — and I ask for no effect finer or better. 
 Drive on, coachman ! " And in this manner the little 
 party chatted and passed the time on their way, may be, 
 to Oapel Curig, to depict some scene on the romantic 
 river Llugwy ; or still further on, where the picturesque 
 bridge of Pont-y-garth spans the stream that comes 
 tumbling down from tarns and lakes in the rugged 
 hollows of Snowdon ; or, taking an opposite direction, to 
 essay their skill in transcribing the features of some 
 lovely subject jn the valley of the Lledr — most beautiful 
 of all the valleys of Wales ! 
 
 The author bears in lasting remembrance a delight- 
 ful day spent in company with David Cox and two 
 other friends beside the little mountain stream above- 
 mentioned, whilst endeavouring to paint the romantic 
 Bridge of Pont-y-garth and its surrounding scenery. 
 The party started early from Bettws in the " Oak " car, 
 an open vehicle, having a seat on each side, the door and 
 steps at back, and the driver perched aloft on a box at 
 front of the car — canvases, easels, colour-boxes, and 
 the artists themselves, more than filling the carriage ; 
 whilst a couple of lads, engaged to look after the 
 " traps," sat on the shafts to the right and left of the 
 driver. It was a somewhat heavy load for the horse, 
 but he dashed along at a rattling pace ; the keen 
 morning air and the prospect of a fine day put all in 
 high spirits ; and the sketching-ground was reached in 
 
102 DAriB COX. 
 
 good time for a fair day's work. Stations were speedily 
 selected, the party being separated by short distances > 
 easels were planted in convenient spots ; canvases were 
 fixed and made fast against the wind ; palettes were 
 " set," and painting soon commenced in earnest. Two 
 or three hours' work had been done, and some progress 
 made with the sketches, when luncheon time arrived; 
 the painters for awhile joined company ; lunch was 
 eaten with a, relish never to be forgotten, and washed 
 down with water from a neighbouring spring, drank 
 from an extemporised paper cup, or from the palm of 
 the hand ; and then the smokers drew forth pipe and 
 cigar, and puffed away vigorously for a brief space with 
 great apparent delight (the writer, not being a smoker, 
 cannot conscientiously aver from experience that the 
 pleasure was real !) and then the party separated once 
 more for the afternoon's work. In an hour or so the 
 wind arose boisterous and cold ; coat collars were turned 
 up, mufflers were tied about the neck ; whilst poor Cox, 
 who was seated in a rather exposed spot, was compelled 
 to envelope his head in a large shawl, and, at a little dis- 
 tance, looked very much like an old Welshwoman 
 busied over some mysterious operation by the river-side. 
 Nevertheless, the day, on the whole, was a very enjoy- 
 able one ; and by the time the car arrived on the scene 
 to fetch the party back to dinner, Pont-y-garth, with 
 the distant blue peaks of Snowdon behind it, the Grlyder 
 mountain on the right, the brawling stream tumbling 
 among the boulders and grey stones in front, and other 
 features of the romantic landscape, had been jotted 
 
A •• CONYUNIENT BOX." 103 
 
 down in note-book or secured on canvas, according to the 
 ability of each. One or two of these efforts might not, 
 perhaps, have been very much to boast of, but the 
 pleasure of the attempt to produce a representation of 
 the charming scene was great, and the day's delights 
 were such as not readily to be effaced from memory. 
 
 One of Cox's sketching companions on some of these 
 occasions carried with him a box, constructed to hold 
 every conceivable article requisite in painting from 
 nature : canvases, colours, brushes, oils, varnishes, turpen- 
 tine, and many things besides, in separate compartments, 
 not forgetting a special division to receive his pipe — 
 for he loved to take a few whiffs now and then, when 
 resting from his labours, as did his friend Cox from a 
 half cigar. This elaborate and comprehensive con- 
 trivance, planned by himself, he christened his " Con- 
 venient Box ; " and he was usually occupied for at least 
 half an hour before starting out to work in packing its 
 contents, and in ascertaining that everything he should 
 be Hkely to want was in its place. " Come along with 
 you, friend Coleman!" Cox would cry out impatiently, 
 marching to and fro before the house, quite ready him- 
 self. " What a long time you are keeping us waiting, 
 packing that ' Convenient Box ' of yours ! Half the 
 day wiU. be gone before we start." Turning to another 
 friend about to accompany him, and also waiting with 
 him in the road, he said, " I should not be surprised if 
 he were to forget something essential, after all his 
 trouble — very likely his pipe. I'll put one in my 
 pocket for him, at a venture." At length and at last 
 
104 DAVID OOX. 
 
 the " Convenient Box " was packed, and tlie little party 
 got away, having to go a distance of two or three miles, 
 so that it was late ere they sat down to their tasks, on 
 the particular occasion alluded to, by the side of the 
 river Conway, in a romantic part of the ravine not far 
 from the Tairy Glen. After they had been painting 
 some time, and were beginning to feel a little weary, 
 Cox arose from his seat, and shouted to his companion, 
 at work fifty yards or so higher up the river, " Friend 
 Coleman, what say you to a pipe ? I 'm going to smoke 
 a half cigar." " With all my heart, Mr. Cox," the other 
 replied, and commenced hunting his box over for the 
 pipe, which was nowhere to be found; Cox watching 
 him all the time, amused at his look of surprise and 
 vexation. "What is the matter now, friend Coleman?" 
 " By George ! Mr. Cox, I 've come without my pipe. 
 I can have no smoke at all." " Poor fellow ! " Cox 
 exclaimed, " I 'm so sorry for you. I 'm certain that 
 ' Convenient Box' will be the ruin of you some day." 
 Fumbling in his pocket, he held aloft the short pipe he 
 had brought from the " Oak," and said, " Look at this, 
 Coleman. I am like a father to you, and I hope you 
 wiU thiak so." " By George ! Mr. Cox, that is very 
 kind of you indeed. What should I have done without 
 a pipe 't 
 
 And so the day wore on, with turns of work at their 
 pictures, and brief snatches of rest, when pipe and 
 cigar were called into requisition, and conversation, 
 with now and then a harmless practical joke, filled up 
 the interval, until their vehicle appeared in sight to 
 
HIS QUICKNESS AND INDUSTRY. 105 
 
 convey them back to Bettws. Then all was hurry- 
 scurry to pack up their "traps." Cox, whether he had 
 finished his picture or not, would never be behind the 
 proper dinner-hour if he could avoid it, and began to 
 pack up the instant the carriage arrived. One or two 
 of the party would probably have been thankful for an 
 extra half -hour to complete what they had begun ; but 
 "No ; it is time to go home," in decisive tones reached 
 their ears from their inexorable chief; and so they were 
 hurried away with their work unfinished. If in good 
 health and spirits, David Cox worked rapidly, whether 
 in oil or water-colour ; and a few hours' painting made 
 a great show towards a completed picture ; whilst others 
 — inexperienced, unpractised hands, perhaps — had done 
 but little in the time, and that little far from well, when 
 their more skilful friend had almost finished his work, for 
 he seized on the leading features and salient points of his 
 subject with ready grasp, and a few rapid strokes with a 
 full pencil fixed them on the canvas with telling effect. 
 However, they all were happy in having had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the master at work, and of beholding 
 the result of his marvellous ability and his deep know- 
 ledge of Nature. 
 
 David Cox made the most of his time when on 
 these sketching trips ; and, in fact, during the whole of 
 his stay at Bettws-y-coed. He was an early riser, and 
 usually trotted off before breakfast, sketch-book in 
 hand, to make a few " outlines," or do a " bit," to put 
 by for future use. He would sometimes return from 
 his early labours before his friends had come down from 
 
106 DAVID COX. 
 
 their bedrooms, and would lash their windows with an 
 angle-rod that frequently stood outside, shouting, " Tou 
 lazy fellows ! when are we to have breakfast ? All the 
 beauty of the day will be gone before we can get out. 
 I have been down by the river, and have made three or 
 four ' outlines,' whilst you have been snoring in bed ! " 
 In fact, he was always at work, or walking about, 
 noting down "effects" and getting "bits," when not 
 out for serious painting. By this continual industry 
 he filled his portfolios with hundreds of sketches and 
 studies ; and thus his delightful works, fortunately for 
 his admirers, are as " the sands of the sea-shore." For 
 many years we have seen them on the walls of our 
 exhibition-rooms, and they have become familiar to us 
 as "household words." They have found their way 
 into numberless homes, made bright by their presence> 
 to keep alive, in minds contending with the cares of life, 
 and engrossed with the pursuits of every-day existence, 
 a love of the beautiful in nature. 
 
 When the weather was fine. Cox of course was to be 
 found out-of-doors, hard at work in the fields, by the 
 river-side, on the hill-tops, or among the fallen rocks at 
 the foot of some lofty mountain range looking down on 
 the Lledr valley, or casting its broad shadows across 
 Llyn Idwal and the wild Pass of ISTant Francon. But 
 when rain had fallen for some days, and the roads had 
 become almost impassable, and few could dare to sit 
 out-of-doors, even for an hour, Cox was by no means 
 idle, and found subjects and something to be done in 
 the neighbouring stables and cow-sheds, and the cottage 
 
" mTEBIOES " AT BETTWS. 107 
 
 interiors in the vicinity of the " Oak." Many charming 
 works of this kind have emanated from his pencil, when 
 wet or unsettled weather has compelled him to seek for 
 subjects under shelter from the showers. 
 
 It has been amusing to note what curious and some- 
 times ludicrous subjects were taken up by artists, rather 
 than remain unoccupied. The inn was examined from 
 top to bottom, and if any part of it was discovered to be 
 at all picturesque, some one of the brotherhood would 
 soon set to work to make a picture from it. The 
 servants' bedroom in the roof was found to be a "capital 
 subject ; " with its rickety old bedstead ; its patchwork 
 quilt of many colours spread over the" humble pallet ; 
 the roof with massive beams and rafters sloping to 
 one side, so as to almost touch the floor; its tiny 
 window, admitting but a feeble ray of light (hardly 
 sufficient to enable the artist to mix his tints) the 
 greater portion of the chamber being shrouded in 
 gloom ; odds and ends of furniture — a broken chair — a 
 clothes-box — a small worm-eaten table — a fragment of 
 looking-glass stuck on the window-sill — a pair of cobbled 
 shoes on the floor — several articles of dress lying about : 
 — all combined to make an " admirable interior," which 
 was depicted again and again. The scullery at the 
 "Swan," a dark hole, with just a few pots and pans 
 dimly visible through the gloom, and some lumps of coal 
 stowed in one corner, was held to be a fine "Eembrandtish 
 subject ; " and if an old woman could be induced to sit 
 in front, peeling turnips, or scouring a frying-pan, the 
 picture was " a perfect Dutchman." Wet weather 
 
108 BAVID OOX. 
 
 compelled many an artist to set up his easel before that 
 subject (Cox among the number) greatly to the annoyance 
 of the good people of the house, who wanted to 
 be going about their work; but the artists at that 
 time did pretty much as they pleased. They were 
 customers whom it would not have been wise to offend. 
 Tourists were not so numerous then as at the present 
 day; and inn-keepers were not so independent as they are 
 sometimes now. Cottage interiors — of which there were 
 several within easy reach, and extremely good subjects, 
 — were of course the chief places of resort on wet days, 
 and Cox made some admirable studies from the more 
 picturesque of them. On one occasion he even painted 
 a picture in oil of the interior of a cow-shed, with a 
 couple of cows standing in the stalls, and a man lying 
 asleep on the straw in a corner. Although not a very 
 interesting subject, the colour was fine, and the work 
 effective. The old church itself, at a distance of some 
 few hundred yards from the " Oak," and soon reached, 
 without much fear of a wetting, was often utilised for 
 painting purposes when the weather was especially bad ; 
 and artists might be seen at work inside, making 
 pictures of the pulpit and the pews ; or seated near the 
 open door-way, painting the view outside — the venerable 
 yews, and the old grey tombstones beneath them, and a 
 glimpse of some far-off blue hill beheld through the 
 sombre branches, and perhaps just an indication of the 
 river Conway gliding along under the churchyard wall, 
 (if it could not be seen from their station, it could 
 undoubtedly be heard by an attentive ear) ; these 
 
THE "DBYAECH" AT PONT-Y-FANT. 109 
 
 interesting features combined to make up a subject of a 
 very pleasing character, which was frequently painted ; 
 and when, in addition, the open church door, with the 
 grave-tools — mattock, shovel, besom, and the rest — 
 stowed away in a corner behind, but not concealed ; 
 and the three or four time-worn steps leading down into 
 the church — hollowed by the tread of many generations 
 of worshippers — were introduced into the picture, a 
 touch of sentiment of a more serious kind was imported 
 which lent to the subject a greater charm. Even the 
 " dry " arch of Bettws bridge — the well-known Pont-y- 
 pair, that crosses the river Llagwy near the turnpike 
 house (the one arch through which the water does not 
 run, except at a time of unusually high flood) — even this 
 arch had sometimes several artists sitting inside it, 
 busily occupied in depicting what could be seen from 
 that contracted space, although the rain might be de- 
 scending in heavy showers, and a haze of mist and spray 
 from the roaring torrent enveloped them and their 
 pictures, and they sat shivering with cold in the draught 
 of damp air that rushed through their uncomfortable 
 place of shelter. Many a severe illness has been caught 
 in that " dry arch " during the wet weather ! and many 
 an indifferent picture has been the result of working 
 there under such unfavourable conditions ! 
 
 During the summer of 1850, the author, with David 
 Cox and other friends, was staying, as usual, at the 
 " Eoyal Oak," for a little sketching. The weather for 
 about a fortnight of the time was exceedingly bad ; in 
 fact, so wet that the little party could hardly leave the 
 
110 ■ BAriB GOX. 
 
 house, even for a stroll. As for sketclimg from nature, 
 tliat was quite, out of the question. Cottage interiors, 
 cow-sheds,- stables, servants' bedrooms, had been used 
 up. All in the little parlour were as wretched as could 
 be. The author amused himself by writing some hues 
 in the visitors' book, intended to be descriptive of the 
 miserable state of things at home and abroad during 
 that trying season, and is tempted to insert them here, 
 because he thinks there is some little novelty in' the 
 theme, and also because they will afford an idea of the 
 trying circumstances under which David Cox (as well as 
 many others of his brethren) was occasionally called on 
 for patience to endure the painful suspension from the 
 work he loved. The lines — somewhat amended, per- 
 haps^ — are as follows, and are ironically entitled — 
 SKET0HI5rG-WEATH;ER AT BETTWS-T-OOED, 
 
 AUGUST, 1860. 
 
 See ! from the window artist eyes. 
 
 Oft scan the unrelenting skies ; 
 
 Or with fixed vision long time stare 
 
 Abstractedly on empty air. 
 
 A crowd of faces oft appears. 
 
 Seen through the window's rainy tears, 
 
 That look distressed, retire in pain, 
 But, restless, soon gaze forth again. 
 For two long weeks there scarce has been 
 A day that we could call serene ; 
 Be-drenching rain and threatening skies 
 Have filled us with anxieties. 
 No sign of change ! the steady wind 
 Still blowing from sou'-west we find. 
 Above yon hill dense vapours rise 
 To endless shades and quantities, 
 Spread their black wings across the sky. 
 Then drop, in water, constantly. 
 Amid the dark no speck of blue 
 
A WET DAY AT BETTW8. ■ 111 
 
 Grives hope of sunshine breaking through, 
 
 All is a compact, spongy gloom, 
 
 As though no change would ever come. 
 
 The rain descends in torrent floods, 
 
 Streams from the mountains, soaks the woods. 
 
 Like race-horse goes the river by, 
 
 Tearing ^long impetuously. 
 
 The road is miry, wet the grass — 
 
 So wet, no foot dare through it pass. 
 
 The lanes are brooks, well fed by riUs 
 
 That flow in myriads from the hills ; 
 
 The brooks are roaring floods, that flee 
 
 All froth and fury to the sea. 
 
 Trees bend 'neath every- gust that blows. 
 
 And shake their hosts of dripping boughs ; 
 
 The rustling leaves, the rain and wind. 
 
 With din of waterfalls combined, 
 
 KU the damp air with mournful sound, 
 
 That saddens every heart around. 
 
 No living thing is seen abroad. 
 
 Within the fields or on the road ; 
 
 The very dogs are scared away. 
 
 And pigs keep shelter through the day. 
 
 Within the house, in every eye 
 There glooms a blank despondency. 
 D. Oox upon the sofa lies. 
 And oft gives vent to doleful sighs ; 
 Poor Brown looks blue ; and Bradley 's sad ; 
 And as to Ooleman — he 's nigh 'mad ; 
 To work, or walk, he can't get out. 
 But round the parlour glides about : 
 He sits, he stands, he moans by fits, 
 Then lights his pipe, and smokes, and sits ; 
 Goes to .the window, gazes forth. 
 Views nought but gloom from south to north. 
 Then shudd'ring, seeks his chair once more. 
 And drops asleep — ^perchance to snore. 
 Roused from his slumbers, round he looks. 
 Sees the black sky and brimming brooks, 
 " No change ! " he cries, " things do look grave ! 
 By George ! another pipe I '11 have." 
 'Tis sad to see us all together ! 
 And sad to have such wretched weather 
 
112 DAVID OOX. 
 
 When morning -with delusive smile 
 Breaks o'er the hiUs — ^but to beguile — 
 Flinging a watery gleam athwart 
 The murky sadness of the heart. 
 We venture out, and take our stand 
 To limn the charms of this fair land. 
 Our easel planted, forth we drag 
 The palette and the palette-rag, 
 Canvas and colours, brushes, stool, 
 And every other painting-tool. 
 Awhile we strive to match the sky 
 In all its watery brilliancy, 
 When rise the winds ; the air grows chiU ; 
 The clouds hang low upon the hiU ; 
 Dark vapours congregate on high ; 
 The Sun, he blinks, then bids good-bye. 
 Drop, drop — ^the rain begins to fall ; 
 Th' umbrella bends beneath the squall ; 
 And down go easel, sketch, and all ! 
 Bills pour from the umbrella-tips, 
 And soak us well about the hips ; 
 Our pockets fill ; our brushes swim ; 
 Our colour-box is full to brim. 
 Down Our wet pictures run big tears. 
 That cause us many anxious fears ; 
 While dirt and flies and leaves of trees 
 Stick to the paint in quantities. 
 Vainly we work, in surly wrath. 
 Our " medium " just like greasy broth ; 
 Be-drench'd by the descending flood, 
 And midges sucking at our blood, 
 We 're fairly beaten ; wind and rain 
 Back drive us to our inn again. 
 
 The artist's gains, oh, envy not ! 
 Nor let his trials be forgot ! 
 He '11 scrape but little pelf together. 
 While lasts this melancholy weather ! 
 
 It b.as been said, in a previous chapter, tliat Cox, 
 when out on one of his customary sketching-excursions, 
 generally dressed in a grey suit of checked tweed — 
 plain, " roomy," and comfortable ; he likewise wore a 
 
HIS FAVOTTBITE 8UPFBB. 113 
 
 cap of the same colour and material. His appearance 
 sometimes led travellers wlio were passing the inn to 
 mistake him for the landlord. On one occasion a horse- 
 man who was riding through Bettws, pulled up at the 
 door of the " Oak," before which O'ox was standing, and 
 said to him " Landlord, give my horse a feed of corn." 
 Cox was in. person a fair-sized man, with ruddy com- 
 plexion, and usually looked healthy and strong. There 
 was a resident at the " Oak," of the name of Hoyle, a 
 large man, and fat withal. These two were one day 
 chatting at the inn door, when a vehicle with a couple 
 of travellers passed. Cox overheard one say to the 
 other, " Those two old chaps do credit to that house ! " 
 David Cox had no particular aflPection for what is 
 called " good living," but loved simple diet, and was 
 extremely fond of boiled mUk for supper. When at 
 Bettws he generally supped on what the Welsh term 
 " crowdie " (orthography doubtful), that is, milk 
 thickened with oatmeal. Occasionally his friends joined 
 him in this simple repast. When the time for the meal 
 arrived, Cox would ring the beU (a small table bell, by- 
 the-bye — there was no other then), and on Miss Mary 
 Roberts entering the room he would exclaim, " Who 
 joins me ? I am going to have crowdie for supper. 
 Will you ? and you ? and you ? " half-a-dozen times 
 repeated, if there were so many persons present. " Very 
 good ! crowdie for six, then. Miss Mary, if you please." 
 Miss Mary would laugh and vanish. His fondness for^ 
 milk clung to him to the last. A few years before his 
 death, on the occasion of the presentation of his 
 I 
 
114 BAriB COX. 
 
 portrait, wlien a large number of admiring friends had 
 assembled round the hospitable table of his old acquaint- 
 ance Mr. Charles Birch, to do him honour, so soon as 
 the ceremony was over, and his health had been 
 drunk, after dinner, feeling much wearied and overcome 
 — ^f or he was then in broken health, and extremely feeble 
 — he said to his old friend Mr. C. W. Eadclyffe, who was 
 sitting near him, " Take me home, wiU you, Charles ? 
 I think it is time for me to have my milk." 
 
 David Cox, during the author's acquaintance with 
 him, was a regular attendant at divine service on Sun- 
 day, whether at home or abroad. When at Bettws 
 (unless prevented by indisposition, or exceedingly tem- 
 pestuous weather, he always went to church. More- 
 over, he liked to pay respect, and to see a proper respect 
 paid,- to aU religious observances, and to things of a 
 sacred and religious character. Once, when he was 
 staying at Bettws — ^the writer was also there at the 
 time — there were several gay, rattling, care-for-nothing 
 young artists in the place — one of them a painter in 
 water-colours of some reputation — who amused them- 
 selves by drawing on the whitewashed walls of the 
 church porch and lych gateway, caricatures of the parson 
 and clerk, with other humorous subjects. The parson 
 was represented in the pulpit, preaching, and banging 
 the cushion with his fist, while the old clerk, with two 
 or three of the congregation near his desk, were fast 
 asleep and apparently snoring. This caricature was 
 cleverly executed in water-colours, and attracted much 
 attention from the village folks when they went to 
 
A F00LI8E FROLIC REBUKED. 115 
 
 church on the following Sunday, some of whom shook 
 their heads, and thought it was a very wicked thing 
 for any one to have done in that place. Cox, when he 
 came out from service, took notice of these caricatures, 
 and was greatly disgusted. He determined to ob- 
 literate them without delay. " My goodness ! " he said 
 to a friend, " what will these poor people think of us, 
 who are supposed to be men of education, and to know 
 what is right and proper ? How much it must shock 
 them to see sacred persons and things ridiculed and 
 made fun of ! And this done upon the wall of the 
 church itself, and donCj too, by one of us, who ought 
 to have set a better example ! " As soon as night came 
 on, he said to one or two friends at the " Oak," " Who 
 will go with me to the churchyard, and carry some 
 water and a brush?" A volunteer was soon forth- 
 coming, and the pair sallied forth. Cox carrying a stable 
 lanthorn, and his companion a pail of water. Within 
 half an hour they returned. Cox evidently well pleased 
 at what he had done. " There is not a vestige of the 
 vile things left," said he. "If anybody should ask 
 who rubbed them out, tell him I did ! " 
 
 So long as David Cox was able to take a journey 
 so far from home — ^in fact, up to within the last three 
 years of his life — he failed not to pay his annual visit 
 to his favourite Bettws. During his final visits he 
 seldom ventured far from the " Oak " to sketch, con- 
 tenting himself with getting " bits," and making slight 
 drawings in the vicinity of the inn. Almost any day 
 he might have been observed toddling in and out of 
 i2 
 
116 BAVID COX. 
 
 the house, or with a sketch-book under his arm, accom- 
 panied by a friend or regular attendant, jogging down 
 to the old churchyard, to the side of the river, or to 
 the " big meadow " (a large field at no great distance 
 from the " Oak "), in which he had often loved to 
 paint, as it was little frequented by visitors, and com- 
 manded fine views of the surrounding hiUs ; and there 
 for a few hours he would sit, making "outHnes," 
 colouring a " bit " that pleased him, or perhaps 
 watching for fine sky effects, which he would dash 
 upon his ready canvas with the facility of lifelong 
 practice. After working for a short time in this 
 manner, he would pack up his painting materials, put 
 his sketch in the box, and go quietly back to the 
 " Oak," or to the old farmhouse close by, where he 
 latterly lodged, to his dinner in the middle of the day, 
 for failing health and increasing weakness would not 
 permit of his waiting for his principal meal, as he had 
 been wont to do, tUl the close of the day, when work 
 was over. The remainder of the day was spent in 
 sauntering about at the front of the inn, chatting with 
 old friends, watching the beautiful Llugwy as it glided 
 gently along on the other side of the road, or smoking 
 his cigar, seated at the open window of the pleasant 
 little sitting-room. At length the time arrived when 
 he could travel no longer, the favourite spot could be 
 visited no more, but he would sit in his easy-chair by 
 the fireside of his house at Harborne, recalling its 
 delightful scenes to memory, and dweUing on the pleasant 
 incidents which gave them, for him, a peculiar charm. 
 
CHAPTBE IX. 
 
 Work done at Home — Cox's Industry and Self-reKauce — ^Eange of Subjects — 
 Charaoteristios of His Works — His Three Distinctive Styles. 
 
 On his return home from these annual visits to Bettws- 
 y-coed, during a period ranging from the year 1844 to 
 1854, or nearly so, Cox, being then at his best, painted 
 a large number of his finest and most important works 
 in water-colour, and likewise in the more enduring 
 vehicle of oil. Feeling refreshed and invigorated after 
 every trip, and having derived a new stock of ideas from 
 recent experiences, and a keener insight into beautiful 
 Nature, he went to his easel in the quiet painting- 
 room of Harborne, with a determination to do better 
 things than he had ever done before. He worked with 
 remarkable zeal and energy, and surprised his friends 
 with a succession of charming works of greater excel- 
 lence than any previously seen from his pencil. Not 
 only were his water-colour drawings more masterly and 
 of finer quality than before, but his pictures in oil 
 exhibited a great advance in the management of 
 material, and in the freedom with which he brought out 
 his ideas and effects ; the result being the production of 
 many pictures, large and small, of surpassing merit. 
 The art collections in the neighbourhood of Birmingham 
 contained at his death a number of his works in oil, of 
 great beauty and excellence ; his prices being so low. 
 
118 DAVID COX. 
 
 comparatively, Ms friends purchased with, great avidity, 
 often writing their names on the backs of blank can- 
 vasses, to secure for themselves whatever pictures might 
 be painted upon them. Numbers of these beautiful 
 productions have, by the death of their owners, been 
 dispersed to aU parts of the country, selling for sums 
 that would have astonished the artist could he have 
 been privileged to look only for a few short years into 
 the future time, and earning for him fame that he 
 would have prized far more dearly than wealth. 
 
 Among the more important of his oil pictures 
 painted during the period referred to may be mentioned 
 his large and grand works, "Views of the Vale of 
 Clwyd," the second, and best, painted for Mr. Greorge 
 Briscoe of Wolverhampton. Cox received less than 
 £100 for this fine work, which after his death sold 
 for £2,500. Another picture of the same size — 
 4 feet 8 inches by 3 feet 3 inches — entitled, "Collect- 
 ing the Flocks," painted for Mr. Edwin Bullock of 
 Handsworth, was likewise produced during this period. 
 This picture, although inferior to the two others of this 
 size (Cox painted only three of these dimensions), has 
 also been sold for a considerable sum. It may be 
 mentioned in this place that the artist once received 
 from his friend Mr. Birch a commission to paint a pair 
 of large pictures to be hung in the gallery at Metchley 
 Abbey, on either side of his fine and famous picture of 
 " The Lock," by John Constable, E.A. Cox was to 
 put forth aU his strength to rival that great work. 
 The subjects selected were views in the Grlen of " Foss 
 
THE FAIBY GLEN NEAR BETTW8. 119 
 
 Noddyn," at Bettws-y-coed, well known to tourists at 
 the present day by its fanciful name, tlie " Fairy Glen." 
 The descent to the bottom of the glen at that time was 
 not, as now, by a series of easy steps cut in the rock, 
 but was very precipitous and slippery, and to an elderly 
 person, somewhat nervous and not very firm on his feet, 
 was not free from danger. Cox, to make himself safe, 
 procured a strong rope, which was fastened to his 
 body, and he was thereby let down gently to the 
 bottom of the glen in a sitting position. He most 
 probably did not relish this rather dangerous mode 
 of descending the side of the ravine, as he never 
 could be induced to venture a second time to the 
 bottom of the Fairy Glen to paint, and never put more 
 than the first day's work upon his large canvases. 
 The pair of great competition pictures were never 
 painted, and Constable's " Lock " maintained its regal 
 supremacy.* A number of "Hayfield" subjects, of 
 
 * Mr. Thos. Creswick, R.A., painted an excellent picture of the "Fairy 
 Glen " at Bettws-y-coed (pnreliased, if tlie writer mistakes not, by Vice- 
 ChanceUor Wigram, from tlie Royal Academy exHbition), wMch sent 
 many a tourist and many an artist to tlie bed of tlie river Conway, to find 
 the spot from which the -view was taken. Scores of pictures of varying 
 exceUenoe have since that time been painted of the glen, from " the very 
 stone '' — so says local gossip — on which the popular artist sat ; but not in 
 all cases productive of similar eclat to their authors ! Thousands of 
 photographs have made known to the world, since Oreswick's attempt, 
 the striking features of the glen ; and the way to it has been made plain 
 and unmistakable by the tread of tourists' feet. There is now a house 
 close by for the sale of refreshments (probably a lodging-house or an inn will 
 be erected there before long) ; an easy path to the bottom of the ravine has 
 been made, so that a child may descend with safety ; a gate has been fixed 
 at top to prevent any one viewing the glen without first paying a fee ; 
 and an attendant sits daily at a stall to sell photographic pictures of the 
 
120 DAVIB COX. 
 
 various sizes, and various in treatment, most of them of 
 the finest quality, were the work of the time specified; 
 notably that painted for Mr. Butler, afterwards Mr. S. 
 Mayou's property; and the admirable one painted for 
 Mr. T. Darby (on the wrong side of the canvas, by-the- 
 bye), and now possessed by Mr. T. Page of Great Barr, 
 near Birmingham. This latter by many good judges 
 has been considered Cox's best picture of the " Hay- 
 field " series. Besides these, there were " Groing to the 
 Mill," a fine upright picture (enlarged by an addition to 
 the sky), sold with the Grillott collection ; two or three 
 pictures of the " Welsh Funeral ; " " Bettws Old Mill," 
 with a boy frightening the geese ; one fine work, called 
 the ^' Skylark ; " another, " Changing the Pasture," one 
 of the artist's loveliest productions ; two of the " Skirts 
 of a Forest ; " " Caer Cennen Castle," a grand upright 
 picture, sold for 3,000 guineas by the proprietor; 
 " Counting the Flock," an evening effect, once in the 
 collection of Mr. S. Mayou ; another picture, with the 
 
 far-famed scene ! The Fairy Glen has indeed become a regular show- 
 place, and one of the chief attractions of Bettws ; every excursionist who 
 visits the place considering himself in duty bound to go and look at the 
 glen ; crowds of tourists during the " season " haunt the spot ; picnic 
 parties may any day be seen, seated on the stones in the river-bed or 
 under the over-hanging trees, regaling themselves on sandwiches and 
 bottled beer ; orange-peel and waste paper lie about in every direction ; a 
 discordant noise of shouting and laughter arises from the very depths of 
 the once silent ravine ; and the charm of the olden time — ^when the glen 
 was known to but few, and its deep silence was broken only by the sounds 
 of rushing waters, or footstep of some solitary artist descending to his 
 work — ^is for ever gone ! The author has been informed that latterly, 
 during the summer season, the number of excursionists visiting the 
 " Fairy Glen " has been so great, that it has actually been found neces- 
 sary to station a policeman at the spot, to maintain order ! 
 
SOME FAMOUS BBAWINGS. 121 
 
 same title, but a Welsh mountain scene, sold with Mr. 
 Frederick Welch's pictures, after that gentleman's 
 death at Moseley, near Birmingham. These admirable 
 works, besides many of a smaller size, of various 
 degrees of excellence, were produced during the period 
 above mentioned. 
 
 In addition he painted a very large number of water- 
 colour drawings, too numerous to particularise here ; but 
 a few of the more important were, indeed, some of Cox's 
 greatest achievements in Art, such as the "Welsh 
 Funeral " (Mr. Craven's) ; " Bolsover Castle ; " several 
 grand works of " Beeston Castle," a superb drawing, of 
 large size ; Windsor Park and Castle, with the Queen and 
 her attendants issuing from the leafy covert in the 
 distance, a herd of deer in the middle ground, and some 
 grand oaks in front tossing their hoary arms in the 
 air — this fine work, once Mr. Mayou's, is now the pro- 
 perty of Mr. F. Craven. The same gentleman also 
 possesses the magnificent drawing of " Besom-makers 
 on Chat Moss," one of the productions of this busy 
 period. "Peace and War — with Yokels," the "Green 
 Lanes, Staffordshire," the " Skylark " (a lovely draw- 
 ing), "CrossEoads : Asking the Way," "Penmaenmawr," 
 "Caer Cennen Castle : the Eain Cloud," "Peat- 
 gatherers returning from the Moors," "The Flood at 
 Corwen," " Snowdon from Capel Curig," the "Mountain 
 Top," superb drawings of "Lancaster and Ulverstone 
 Sands," and very many others, far too numerous to 
 mention, were executed in rapid succession, and altogether 
 constituted an amount of work produced during the 
 
122 DAVID COX. 
 
 eight or ten years specified which surprises from its high 
 quality as well as from its quantity, and speaks volumes 
 for the husy hand and teeming brain of the gifted artist 
 who achieved such marvels. The catalogue of the 
 Society of Painters in Water-Colours records the large 
 numher of one hundred and thirty-six drawings ex- 
 hibited by Cox in the Pall Mall Gallery, during the 
 ten years from 1844 to 1854. inclusive. He must have 
 made many more than these in that time which were 
 not exhibited. 
 
 There was a directness of aim in David Cox, which, 
 coupled with untiring industry, will account for the 
 great amount of work he was enabled to accomphsh. 
 He had a way of his own in looking at Nature, and in 
 recording what he saw and felt, and lost no time in 
 considering whether it would be better to endeavour to 
 see with other eyes, and work according to other 
 methods. He was satisfied with his own lights and gifts 
 — they were his, and for him alone, and he was to do 
 his best with them. Accordingly he laboured hard 
 with the tools he found ready to his hands, and the 
 result was an abundant product, which the world has 
 appraised at a high value. There was a still small 
 voice which constantly whispered in his ear the injunc- 
 tion, " Eely on yourself ! Have faith in your own 
 nature, and in the faculties with which you are 
 endowed ! Work ! work ! and do your best ! Leave 
 the result of your efforts in other hands ! " And Cox 
 did work ; he accepted the guidance of his own gifts, 
 and he relied wholly on himself. He never looked to 
 
SOMELIJmSS OF EI8 W0BK8. 123 
 
 the right nor to the left for aids and helpers. He sought 
 neither to create nor to imitate any particular School 
 of art. He thought and felt for himself ; ever puttiag 
 into his works his own mind and feelings ; and as a 
 consequence of his direct method and singleness of 
 purpose, his artless unaffected nature is seen in all he 
 did. His aim in art was, to look at the subjects he 
 purposed to delineate, with a view solely to their interest- 
 ing qualities, and to treat them in a simple, natural, 
 unaffected manner. His pictures have, therefore, an 
 honest, faithful, and often a homely look — like a bundle 
 of May-blossoms, or a cluster of daisies cut out of the 
 green sward. They appeal to us like the famihar faces 
 of old friends. They win their way to our hearts at 
 once, and are refreshing as a summer breeze. Not one 
 of them ever says to us, " Now, look at me. I am a 
 miracle of art ! I address myself to an educated, 
 highly-cultivated taste, and none other can appreciate 
 me or measure my excellence ! " No ; but they say, one 
 after another, " I am that sweet green lane, down which 
 you loved to stroll when a child, to pluck the blue-beUs 
 on the hedge-banks, and the hawthorn-bloom from the 
 boughs that overhung the path ! I am that breezy 
 common you have often scoured across with your play- 
 mates, when the gorse was in f uU flower, and the gipsies 
 encamped in the heather, and the windmill whirled its 
 saUs in the fresh gale, like a thing of life, and yoa 
 were a boy, let out from school on a holiday, blithe as 
 the lark that carolled above your head ! I am that 
 rocky stream, winding among the hills, and beneath the 
 
124 BAVin GOX. 
 
 verdant screen of tangled branches, down which, rod in 
 hand, you wandered for hours when youth was growing 
 into manhood, in search of spotted trout or silvery 
 salmon, with no cloud on enjoyment, but rejoicing in 
 health and a contented mind ! I am that delightful 
 meadow, green as an emerald, dotted with browsing 
 cattle and white-fleeced sheep, and spangled with 
 buttercups and daisies, in which you often whiled away 
 an hour at eventide or early mom in the pleasant days 
 gone by, when life was opening like a fairy vision, and 
 your young heart was full of hope and love for all 
 things beautiful ! I am that far-away blue lull you 
 first beheld when you made your earliest excursion into 
 dear old Wales, and which drew you, magnet-Kke, mile 
 after mile, determined, though footsore and weary, to 
 ascend its rugged slopes, and to stand ere sunset upon 
 its lofty summit ! I am that far-stretching, desolate 
 moor, its boundaries mingling with the cold grey sky, 
 where huge blocks of stone He among the heather, and 
 ribbed rocks crop up from the earth's mossy breast, 
 and where nought living is seen for miles but a few 
 mountain-sheep nibbHng the sweet turf, or a few peat- 
 gatherers laden with fuel for the cottage fires ! I am 
 that splintered ridge, the summit of the mountain, where 
 the storms of ages have done battle in the stem winters, 
 and grey mists whirl round and round shrouding them 
 from sight, or parting now and then, and showing grim 
 peaks and inaccessible recesses, where the kite or eagle 
 nestle safely with their young, and on whose topmost 
 crags you have stood after the toilsome ascent, proud as 
 
THE SECRET OF HIS POWER. 125 
 
 the warrior in the hour of victory ! I am that silvery- 
 beach, which in the summer heat drew you from the 
 dusty town, from ofl&ce and workshop, to saunter along its 
 smooth, dry sands, to be soothed by the murmur of the 
 ripples softly falling on the shore, or awed by the rush 
 of storm-waves leaping in great breakers to your feet ! 
 I am that mouldering ruin, half -hidden in coeval trees, 
 and screened from the winds by soft surrounding 
 hills, which you visited when the evening shadows of 
 life were faUing across your path, and you reflected 
 on the approach of old age and feebleness, or, may be, 
 were preparing for the dread parting that comes to aU. 
 And last of all — I am that sweet country churchyard, 
 with its deep fimereal yews, venerable for age, solemn in 
 association, and casting soft glooms on the crumbling 
 grave-stones that cluster beneath their shade, and where 
 you have thought of rest, a sleep unbroken ! " This 
 is what the infinitely varied works of David Cox seem 
 for each of us to say in our private ear ; and so, learning 
 the secret of the master's power, and making it our own, 
 we love them dearly from the first glance, and recall the 
 noble simplicity of him who has reAdved such recollections, 
 and roused such emotions in our heart. For how many 
 years may not those of us " whose way of life has 
 fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf," have been charmed 
 with his beautiful works in the public galleries and 
 private collections of the country ! Among the 
 " miracles of art " which from time to time have graced 
 those displays — self-conscious, laboured, pretentious, 
 " learned " in the latest talk and slang of art — how 
 
126 DAVIB COX. 
 
 refresMng it has been to turn to the truthful and simple 
 delineations of Nature which emanated from the pencil 
 of David Cox ! We recognised them at a glance, even 
 afar off; we could single them out by an indescribable 
 charm, which the works of no other painter possessed, 
 and which filled us with admiration for them and their 
 author ! Their honesty — ^their simplicity — their delicious 
 colour and sweet atmospheric effects — the happy inci- 
 dents introduced — the times — ^the seasons — the beaming 
 sunshine and gathering storm — all struck home to the 
 affections at first sight, and filled us with gratitude to 
 the genius who had given us such delight. 
 
 The variety of David Cox has been spoken of : in- 
 deed, he has painted almost every conceivable subject 
 within the range of art — flowers, fish, objects of still 
 Hfe, portraits, figures, cottages, mansions, churches, 
 palaces, stables, and cowsheds ; street architecture, 
 grand and picturesque buildings at home and abroad; 
 sea calms and storms; brook and river scenery — ^the 
 latter often teeming with water-craft of every de- 
 scription; landscapes — ^how many, and how varied in 
 subject and treatment ! From a simple weedy bank, 
 with but a few dock-leaves, a straggling briar, and 
 a cluster of ferns or tufts of flowering grass to give 
 it interest, yet sparkling with real morning dew, or 
 touched with an intense gleam of evening sunlight, 
 to a majestic range of lofty mountains rejoicing in the 
 glow of a summer day, or solemn with gloom, and 
 dragging mists, and lowering, tempestuous skies — 
 from a bit of fem-fringed rock, " silvered with mosses 
 
HIS INCIDENTS AND FIGUBES. 127 
 
 grey," lying in the bed of a torrent, on tlie flank of 
 some giant HU, with the water foaming around it, and 
 overhanging branches flecking it with shade — or where, 
 among the great boulder-stones thrown about by erup- 
 tions in the volcanic age, it has lain for centuries, 
 exposed to all the rough usage of elemental strife on 
 the bleak bare top of the desolate mountain moor — to a 
 far-stretching view of sea and plain, hiU and woodland, 
 flashing torrent and winding river, nestling village, 
 farm, and field, and smoky town, with all the varied 
 effects of sunshine, shadow, mist, storm, winter gales, 
 and quiet summer days : the figures and incidents he 
 introduced into his pictures are as various as the sub- 
 jects he painted, and are always perfect in their fitness 
 to the scenes and places. They usually presented 
 themselves to his mind when the subject in hand was 
 arranged and commenced, landscape and incident being 
 worked out together, so that a delightful unity was the 
 result. With some landscape artists the figures and inci- 
 dents are often an afterthought, fitted into the picture 
 when the landscape is completed, and frequently with 
 poor success. One sees that, to use a technical phrase, 
 they are literally " put in." Cox, as a rule, adopted 
 the contrary practice, deciding on his incidents and 
 figures when he settled the treatment of the entire 
 subject, the work in aU its parts thus progressing 
 simultaneously to a happy ending. He was also espe- 
 cially careful as regards the costumes and draperies of 
 his figures, so that they should be true to the localities 
 in which they were placed. The men and women 
 
128 BAriB OOX. 
 
 he introduced into his Welsh landscapes are habited in 
 the sober-coloured dresses usually worn in the country; 
 the conventional red cloaks and pretty garments of many 
 artists he studiously avoided. Being true to nature, 
 his figures and incidents have commonly an interest 
 in themselves, apart from the landscape, which lend an 
 additional interest to these also. The titles of a few of 
 his pictures will explain this : — " The Common -. Cross 
 Eoads — Asking the "Way," " Mountain Scene : Shep- 
 herds Collecting their Flocks," " On the Eiver Lledr : 
 Searching the Salmon-trap," " Hay-harvest : Groing to 
 the Hayfield," " A Eural Scene : Children Flying their 
 Kite," " Lancaster Sands : Market People Eeturning," 
 " A Worcestershire Landscape : Children Listening to 
 the Skylark," " Welsh Hills : Peat-gatherers Coming 
 from the Moors," " Bettws-y-coed Church : a Welsh 
 Funeral." Hundreds of natural incidents like these are 
 to be found in his works. He was the painter of what 
 he saw, both in landscape and people ; and he painted 
 only what he saw. 
 
 As a water-colour painter, David Cox may be said 
 to have had three broadly marked and distinctive 
 manners. His early style was hard and dry, resembling 
 to a great extent the styles of some of his contemporaries 
 of the early part of this century, the colour being 
 neutral, and the han.dling deficient in freedom ; but 
 occasionally, even in these works, may be detected 
 indications of the command which in course of time 
 he was destined to acquire over his materials and the 
 effects with which he has dealt. The books of lessons 
 
HIS TEHEE " MANNERS." 129 
 
 which, he published when at Hereford contain highly 
 characteristic examples of his method of handling, 
 colouring, and treating his subjects at that stage of his 
 career. In his second manner — in what may be termed 
 his middle period, embracing a long stretch of years : 
 say, from the time when he left Hereford until his 
 removal to Harborne, or nearly so — he exhibited far 
 greater command over his materials and resources of 
 every kind ; employed purer and more powerful colour — 
 was more plajrful, so to speak, in his treatment of 
 subject — more facile in his touch — dealt with the 
 transient and poetical effects of nature with readier 
 skill — finished more elaborately — and altogether was 
 far more graceful and captivating. The drawings which 
 he executed towards the latter part of this period are 
 those which have been most popular, and by the multi- 
 tude have been considered his best works. At all events 
 they are those which in the picture-market are found the 
 most saleable productions of the artist. His third and 
 last manner is undoubtedly the grandest, finest, and 
 most striking. It is characterised by great power and 
 depth of colour, much refinement in feeling and expres- 
 sion, large generalised views of nature, daring effects, 
 vigorous intrepid execution. Many of the drawings he 
 produced at this period are on rough paper, of which 
 he was very fond, and their immense power beats down 
 everything beside them, the work of other masters. 
 This style, some critics — may we not say, for want of 
 knowing better?— have designated " coarse," " dauby," 
 and " blotty ; " one went so far as to describe them 
 J 
 
130 BAvin cox. 
 
 compendiously as " mere fluff and splash ; " but every 
 thouglitful and educated student of art and nature 
 knows that the painter was at the height of his 
 power when he produced these magnificent works, 
 was thorough master of his art and all his re- 
 sources — ^had achieved a long succession of triumphs 
 over difficulties encountered in depicting the multi- 
 tudinous phases and effects of nature — that his hand, 
 the ready servant of a richly stored mind, obpyed his 
 will with unwavering precision ; and that the ideas and 
 impressions which he has recorded in this bold, 
 daring manner are the truest and finest he has given 
 to the world. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Home Life — Friends in Council — " The Skylark.'' 
 
 Greenfield House, Harborne, the last residence of 
 David Cox, will long be remembered by those of bis 
 friends who had the privilege of an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with him, as one in which many delightful hours 
 were spent in company of the man whose genius they 
 acknowledged, and whose loveable qualities of mind 
 and heart endeared him to all. There was nothing in 
 the external appearance of the house to attract atten- 
 tion. It was modest and old-fashioned, containing a 
 front parlour, with a bow-window looking into the 
 garden ; another smaller sitting-room adjoining it, only 
 occasionally used; and a kitchen on the same level, 
 with a particularly light, cheerful, and cleanly look, 
 roomy and comfortable, with generally a flitch of bacon 
 and some hams hanging from the ceiling. Mrs. Fowler 
 and Mercy, the servant, took great pride in this kitchen, 
 which was always scrupulously clean and tidy. The 
 " master " usually sat in the parlour at the front. There 
 he frequently worked at his drawings, when the weather 
 was too cold to sit in his painting-room up-stairs, and 
 always in the evening, by lamp-light, when alone, and 
 not expecting friends to drop in for an hour's pleasant 
 chat. The garden attached to Greenfield House was of 
 J 2 
 
132 BATID COX. 
 
 a good size, well stocked with fruit trees and vegetables, 
 and had a leafy and cheerful look, frequently enticing 
 the " master," for a brief space, from easel and canvas, 
 to saunter down its clean-kept walks for a quiet 
 " smoke," a breath of pure air, and a glimpse of Nature's 
 refreshing green. 
 
 In this unpretending but comfortable residence, 
 David Cox passed the last eighteen years of his life — in 
 the main, very happy years. It is true that here he 
 was bereaved of the wife of his bosom, and left to find 
 his way to the grave a solitary old man ; but his com- 
 pensations were many, and his after-blessings brought 
 joy and thankfulness to his heart. The life he passed 
 at Grreenfield was very quiet, but one wholly after his 
 own taste and choice. The occupations of each day 
 were very much alike. Soon after breakfast he went 
 up-stairs into his painting-room (unless the weather were 
 specially cold), and worked upon the picture in hand, 
 or turned over his sketches to select a subject for a work 
 about to be commenced. Then he would come down, 
 and, if the day were fine, walk about his garden for a 
 few minutes, noting the growth of vegetables, fruits, 
 and flowers, and taking a few whifis from the half- 
 cigar of which he was so fond. Then up-stairs again 
 to work, till diimer was ready, about half-past one 
 o'clock. Occasionally he would walk as far as Bir- 
 mingham (accompanied by a boy with a basket) to do 
 a little marketing; to call on friends, or perhaps to 
 deliver a small picture which had been bespoken by one 
 of his " patrons." After dinner he would again enjoy 
 
PLEASANT ETTENIN-OS AT HABBOBNK 133 
 
 a half-cigar for a few minutes, probably take a short 
 nap ; then up again to work till tea-time. After tea, 
 friends then dropped in, to sit an hour or two with 
 him, to bring the news from town, and look over his 
 portfolios of drawings ; one of the party becoming 
 " showman " for the night, placing the drawings one 
 after another on the small table-easel, whilst the 
 others, with the painter himself among them, sat in a 
 semicircle looking at the beautiful transcripts of nature, 
 and freely commenting upon them. Cox always ex- 
 pressed great pleasure when any particular work called 
 forth from those around him exclamations of delight, 
 with perhaps a clapping of hands, and a request that it 
 might not be replaced by another for a short time. He 
 would say, " I am glad you like t/iat so weU. I always 
 liked it myself." If any alteration were suggested in 
 a drawing or sketch, he would receive the hint with 
 respectful attention, and would modestly say, " Well, 
 weU ! perhaps it would be better so. I think you are 
 right." Those pleasant evenings will be long remem- 
 bered by such of his friends as are still Hving -. a 
 number, alas ! now sadly thinning. If alone, at night, 
 he lighted his lamp when the evenings were long and 
 dark, and went to work again — down-stairs this time, in 
 his usual sitting-room — taking up a sheet of rou^/i 
 paper, which he delighted to paint on, and, striking 
 out some fine effect of sunshine and shadow, of cloud 
 and tempest, which his quickened imagination enabled 
 him to conceive, produced in a short time what he called 
 a "cartoon" — a subject or study to be treated with 
 
134 DAVID COX. 
 
 greater care, in another form, on a future occasion. 
 Many of these " cartoons " were made during the long 
 evenings of autumn and winter, and some of them were 
 remarkably fine, requiring but slight alteration by day- 
 light to complete them as pictures. A little change of 
 colour here and there, a hastUy-drawn form corrected, a 
 line modified, a figure or incident brought out with 
 clearer effect, and the work was finished. Eough 
 these " cartoons " were, no doubt — what many people 
 would call " blotty " and " undefined " — but the con- 
 ceptions embodied were often grand, the effects most 
 striking, the colour frequently magnificent. They were 
 full of imagination, suggestiveness, mystery; in one 
 word, of genius. 
 
 It always gave David Cox great pleasure to see his 
 friends — especially those who were on an intimate 
 footing with him — at Greenfield House. If anything 
 kept them away for more than a week, he would think 
 that something serious had occurred, and would be 
 uneasy until he saw them again. Occasionally, a little 
 note would be written to make inquiries, or to urge 
 them to pay him a visit, assigning various reasons 
 why he vdshed particularly to see them. The following 
 letter, received by the writer, is of this character. 
 Simple as it is, it shows the hearty feeling of the 
 artist for his friends : — 
 
 Greenfield, Harborne, January 29th, 1849, 
 
 Two o'clock. 
 
 My Dear Feiend, — It occurs to me how very much I should 
 like to see you this afternoon, and if you are not engaged, pray 
 
FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. . 135 
 
 oblige me by coming up to tea. I want most particularly to see you, 
 on several matters. I have several new oil-pictures begun ; and I 
 have made such havoc and alterations in my large mountain scene ! 
 but am in. great hopes I have improved it. My friends here say I 
 have very much. [This was the picture painted for Mr. Bullock, of 
 Handsworth, near Birmingham, entitled " Collecting the Flocks." 
 The subject is a grand one — the treatment fine — but the effect is 
 somewhat heavy, and the colour opaque, in consequence of the 
 alterations and re-paintings alluded to. Cox could not please himself 
 when painting it, and lahov/red it a good deal. It was never quite 
 satisfactory to him or his friends. The note continues : — ] Besides; 
 the above, I have made a large purchase, and want your opinion. 
 Pray do come. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 D. Cox. 
 
 Then, on the other side of the paper, was an urgent 
 postscript : — 
 
 I hope, my dear friend, if you really cannot come this evening, you 
 will to-morrow; but this is a fine afternoon, and I hope you wUl come. 
 Besides all I have said on the other side, I want to have your advice 
 on two subjects for my large drawing, and there is no time to be 
 lost. / must begin. — D. C. 
 
 The " large drawing " here spoken of was doubtless 
 Cox's principal drawing for the ensuing exhibition of 
 the Water-Colour Society of that year. It was his 
 custom, about the time when this letter is dated, to put 
 aside all his oil pictures in progress, and set earnestly to 
 work on drawings for the coming exhibition. He liked 
 to summon his friends together on such occasions, to 
 look over his sketches, and confer with them as to 
 which he should select to finish for the annual show. 
 The subject of the principal drawing was always a 
 matter for the gravest consideration, and some delay 
 
136 DAVID GOT. 
 
 usually took place before it was finally decided. Some- 
 times he would work several days upon a subject 
 selected, but if it did not progress to his satisfaction, 
 he would put it aside, and take up another. The last 
 large work he completed (for the exhibition of 1859) 
 was a grand study of the Falls of the Llugwy, at Pont- 
 y-pair, Bettws-y-coed. This had hung for some time in 
 his sitting-room, admired by all who saw it. It was 
 commenced on a small sheet of paper, Cox intending at 
 first to represent only a portion of the Falls ; but 
 as he proceeded with his work, liking what he had 
 done, he drew another part of the subject before him, 
 on another similar piece of paper; and then another, 
 and then a fourth, until he had taken in the magnificent 
 scene in all its falness. When he returned home, he 
 had all these separate sheets laid down on a panel, and 
 carefully united, so that the divisions were scarcely 
 perceptible at the proper distance for seeing the 
 drawing, which from its size, and having been executed 
 on rough paper, compelled the observer to retire for 
 some paces to appreciate the fall effect. This grand 
 sketch the artist, by the advice of his friends, decided 
 to send to the exhibition ; and after he had for a short 
 time worked upon it, the result was highly satisfactory. 
 It is undoubtedly one of the most impressive and 
 important works he ever produced, and, when exhibited, 
 met with a purchaser on the opening day. The author 
 remembers supplying him with a descriptive quotation 
 for the catalogue, taken from Thomson's "Winter," 
 which pleased him greatly : — 
 
RELUCTANCE TO TAKE COMMISSIONS. 137 
 
 Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes 
 rrom the rude mountain and the mossy wilds. 
 Tumbling through rocks abrupt. 
 
 Mr. David Cox, the younger, generally came down 
 from London to visit his father for a week or two at 
 Christmas ; and during his stay there was usually a 
 pleasant gathering of friends, and a grand overhauling 
 of sketches and summer work, when Mr. David, as he 
 was commonly called, would officiate as "showman," 
 setting up on the table-easel the drawings for the 
 evening treat. This periodical visit was always looked 
 forward to with great pleasure by the old man, who 
 never seemed so happy as when his son was staying 
 with him. Mr. David had much to do when he came 
 down in assisting his father in many ways — preparing 
 paper, mounting sketches, ad^dsing as to exhibition 
 work, receiving and calling on friends. 
 
 David Cox had many warm and attached friends, 
 who frequently called to see him at his Harborne 
 residence. Some of these were the possessors of valu- 
 able works of art by the most eminent masters of the 
 day, and were desirous of enriching their collections by 
 the addition of as large a number of their friend's pro- 
 ductions as they could obtain ; accordingly, commissions 
 for pictures, large and small, poured in upon him, some 
 of which he executed, but many were never commenced. 
 He was usually reluctant to complete works that had 
 been bespoken ; he appeared to lose interest in them as 
 soon as an intending purchaser had written his name on 
 the back, preferring to take up some fresh subject 
 
138 DAVID GOX. 
 
 which no one had seen — ^the idea of which had probably 
 occurred to him as he entered his painting-room in the 
 morning — and on this he would work until the picture 
 was finished, when it was gladly carried off by the first 
 person who had the chance of seeing it. Large pictures 
 he speedily tired of; they gave him a great deal of 
 trouble; he could not keep up the fire necessary by 
 continuous labour to carry them successfully to the 
 end ; and he never appeared to work at them with the 
 same pleasure as at his smaller pictures. Consequently 
 he paiated but few large landscapes ia oU ; the majority 
 of his works are of small dimensions, and such as he 
 could dash off with comparative ease. These are his 
 happiest productions, full of spirit and of the evidences 
 of his impulsive genius ; and many of them are without 
 doubt comparable to the best works of the British 
 School in landscape art. His mind was exceedingly 
 fertile and inventive, teeming with new ideas which he 
 was anxious to record before the freshness of them had 
 passed away. This fact will in some measure account 
 for the large number of unfinished works which he left 
 at his death. He would often put by the picture in 
 hand to make a quick record of some "idea," as he 
 termed it, which had suddenly occurred to him, and in 
 which for a time he was greatly interested, to the 
 exclusion of every other ; but after working for a little 
 while at the subject, he was overmastered by another 
 "idea," possessing new attractions; and the previous 
 work, partly finished, was then laid aside till a more 
 convenient season, which frequently did not arrive. 
 
KINDNESS TO BROTHER ARTISTS. 139 
 
 He was thus continually wandering away to " fresh 
 woods and pastures new." 
 
 Among the friends who often called at Greenfield, 
 and who were ever glad to be allowed to spend a few 
 hours in his company, were several brother-artists of 
 humble repute, who were struggUng up the long and 
 wearisome "Hill Difl&culty," and who were frequently dis- 
 couraged and down-hearted. To these he was especially 
 kind ; was ever glad to see and welcome them under his 
 roof. Many a valuable lesson has he given to painters 
 of this class ; many useful hints to guide their future 
 labours ; many a time has lent them his works to copy, 
 or to aid them in overcoming the difficulties with which 
 they were contending. " Well," he would, perhaps, say 
 to one, "what are you painting now?" "I am en- 
 deavouring, sir, to paint a subject that gives me much 
 trouble, and I cannot succeed to my satisfaction." 
 Inquiring what the subject was (one in the neighbour- 
 hood probably), " Oh ! " he would reply, " I know it. 
 I painted it myself forty years ago ! I will look for the 
 drawing, and give it to you." The writer of this 
 Memoir, who benefited by such kindly help and 
 counsel, has one of these kind presents stiU, and hopes 
 to retain it as long as he lives. He can truly say the 
 years of his acquaintance with David Cox were among 
 the happiest of his life, and whenever he drew nigh to 
 the old house at Harborne it was with the most delight- 
 ful and affectionate anticipations. Sad was the day 
 when the kind-hearted friend was carried to his last 
 long home in Harborne churchyard, and the familiar 
 
140 BAVIB GOX. 
 
 liabitation was for ever closed to those wlio loved Mni 
 so well. 
 
 There was always a little stir and a gathering of 
 artistic friends at Greenfield House when some picture 
 of interest and importance — a commission, perhaps, 
 from one of Cox's numerous patrons — was approaching 
 completion. The artist was anxious to do his best, and 
 gladly availed himself of any suggestions likely to render 
 the work more efiective. " Well, what do you think of 
 my picture ? " he would ask. " Most lovely, Mr. 
 Cox; the best you have yet painted. It does not 
 require another touch." " I am glad to hear you say 
 so. But I have been thinking that the sky wants a 
 little more movement. The clouds would be better i£ 
 they appeared to go faster before the breeze. I want 
 to show a proper hay-making day — bright and sunny, of 
 course, but vrith a brisk, drying wind sweeping across 
 the fields, and making the fleecy clouds speed along the 
 sky at a greater pace than they seem to be going now. 
 To-morrow I must try what I can do to improve this. 
 My sky wants more breeziness put into it." " Perhaps 
 it does, Mr. Cox. " Ah ! I thought you'd agree. Why 
 didn't you say that at first ? " 
 
 The writer calls to mind a couple of lovely pictures, 
 painted in 1849, for Mr. E. A.. Butler, of Birmingham, 
 and which for some considerable time adorned the end 
 of that gentleman's drawing-room. They were the 
 delight of every one who saw them, from their great 
 beauty and faithful rendering of nature. One of them 
 was a light, bright, and breezy hay-field picture, pro- 
 
THE " SKYLARK." 141 
 
 bably the second-best work of this subject that Cox 
 painted, and was the identical picture which gave rise 
 to the conversation above recorded. It was afterwards 
 in the possession of Mr. S. Mayou of Birmingham ; as 
 also was the companion picture, entitled, " The Sky- 
 lark." The artist was undoubtedly in his happiest 
 mood when he executed these two charming works. He 
 received £40 each for them; and since his death they have 
 been sold for more than 4,000 guineas the two ! The 
 subject of the latter picture — "The Skylark" — is simple, 
 but extremely captivating. The scene is taken from 
 some rising land in the neighbourhood of Harborne, 
 looking across a stretch of green pasture dotted with 
 cattle, with here and there intersecting hedgerows and 
 cottage roofs peeping among the trees in the middle dis- 
 tance; while a far-off range of low-lying hills, just rising 
 above the horizon, and dimly visible, unites the landscape 
 with the sky. In the foreground is a clump of fine trees, 
 their foliage turned up by the passing breeze, and full 
 of movement ; and near them, at a stile, cottage children 
 are clustered in a picturesque group, listening with rapt 
 attention to the song of a lark carolling in the blue 
 heavens. One of the elder children is holding up an 
 infant, which stretches out its arms, and strains its sight 
 to discover the little warbler. The landscape, so fresh 
 and lovely, and the incident, so natural, renders this 
 picture a source of never-failing delight to all beholders ; 
 it was considered one of the artist's most successful 
 productions. The author, in a few lines which he 
 published when the picture was exhibited in Birming- 
 
142 DAVID COX. 
 
 ham, endeavoured to interpret to his readers the thought 
 and sentiment embodied in the work, and to awake in 
 their minds the pleasant memories and emotions which 
 the picture called up in his own. The lines are intro- 
 duced here because they appear to the author to show, 
 as he conceives, what was probably passiag through the 
 mind of David Cox when he produced this beautiful 
 work, and also because when read to the painter one 
 evening at the house of Mr. Butler, and in the presence 
 of the picture, he exhibited a degree of emotion which 
 testified to the truth of the exposition they were de- 
 signed to set forth : — 
 
 " THE SKTLAEK." 
 
 Sweet passage in the early days of life, 
 Which Memory holds in her embrace till death ! 
 That blissful time we all remember well — 
 StiU sparkling with the dews of childhood's mom — 
 When, like these little ones, we sallied forth, 
 Enticed by summer's sun, soft air, and sky 
 Of liveliest blue just freckled o'er with white. 
 To cull gay posies in the pleasant fields. 
 How fair were all things then, when all was new ! 
 What rapturous emotions thriU'd the breast ! 
 To our young eyes the heav'n above us wore 
 A brightness like its Maker's face. Green earth 
 To us was something more than beautiful. 
 And look'd as it can never look again. 
 The very meadow-grass we gamboU'd in, 
 Alive with sunshine, swaying in the wind. 
 Filled our young souls with joy unspeakable. 
 Delighted did we wander, on and on. 
 Knee-deep in freshest verdure and bright flow'rs, 
 Hunting the buttercups from mead to mead, 
 To swell the golden bundles that we bore : 
 - Hosts plucked we, in the pleasures of our hearts; 
 Keeping the best, the poor we flung away. 
 
TEE " SKYLARK." 143 
 
 Leaving a flowery trail across the fields, 
 
 By which the youngling runaways were tracked. 
 
 How oft we chased the gorgeous butterfly, 
 
 That like some living floVr went flutt'ring past ! 
 
 How oft into the chiming brook we peep'd, 
 
 Stealing by soft approaches to its edge, 
 
 To see the tiny minnow dart away ! 
 
 The singing-bird that perch'd upon the twig 
 
 Close by our side, unfrighten'd, held us oft 
 
 To listen to the sweetness of its song. 
 
 And shall we e'er forget the thrill of joy 
 
 That shook our little frame, when from the ground 
 
 The glorious lark upsprang, and soar'd to heav'n, 
 
 Flooding the sky with wondrous melody ! 
 
 How breathless for a moment did we stand. 
 
 Fearing to scare th' ecstatic prince of song. 
 
 And with the magic of his strain entranc'd ! 
 
 Heedless of us he wing'd his giddy flight 
 
 Into the far, far blue, and there up-poised 
 
 Upon the proudest pinnacle of air, 
 
 Hurl'd his wild notes, all furious, headlong down. 
 
 Oh ! then we leapt, and ran with aU our speed, 
 
 And mounted on the top bar of the stile 
 
 To bring us nearer to the fount of song. 
 
 Long stood we there enchain'd, and in our joy 
 
 Held up the chuckling baby in our arms. 
 
 That he might hear the unseen melodist — 
 
 The very babe — who stretch'd his hands and crow'd. 
 
 And strain'd his sight to find the vocal speck ! 
 
 Thus fised, we stood a speU-bound group, until 
 
 The glorious warbler, tiring of his song. 
 
 Gave the last fragments as he wheel'd to earth. 
 
 And swift descending shot into his nest. 
 
 Then we were free once more to ramble on. 
 
 Oh, happy time ! oh, blissful early days ! 
 Can ye no more return, to let us taste 
 The keen delight, fresh feeling, happiness 
 Immense, unspeakable, we knew when young ? 
 Is there no hope that we again may view 
 The bright, green earth, and all fair things around. 
 As we beheld them when our morning sun 
 First clear'd the dim horizon of the world ? 
 For one blest hour, oh ! can we not enjoy 
 
Ui DAVID COX. 
 
 Life as we did when Maying in the fields ? 
 When flow'rs, and running waters, and the voice 
 Of singing-birds had charms they now hare lost ? 
 When the small minnow held us by the stream — 
 And when we marvell'd at the skylark's song ? 
 
 'Tis vain to ask ! — those days are gone for aye 
 With the felicity that made them sweet ! 
 And even memory must task her powers 
 To show us, through the clouds fast gath'ring round, 
 Aught of the bliss and brightness of our morn. 
 
 Thanks to the magic of the painter's art, 
 Thanks to the genius which thus has given 
 A key t' unlock the stores of memory. 
 And set before our gladdened thoughts once more 
 Things slumb'ring in the twilight of the mind ! 
 While gazing on this pictured scene, we seem 
 (With such fine skill 'tis wrought) to draw our breath 
 Amid the freshness of the summer fields ; 
 The balmy gale goes sighing through the trees ; 
 The cattle low afar ; the dome of heav'n 
 Rings with the music of the merry lark ; 
 And looking on the children at the stile, 
 We almost fancy we are young again ! 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Cox's Methods of Painting in Water-colour and in Oil. 
 
 To art-students and amateurs it will be interesting to 
 learn something of David Cox's methods of working in 
 oil and water ; of the colours used by him ; and of his 
 materials generally. A short chapter may therefore be 
 usefully devoted to this subject. It is based upon 
 frequent opportunities of observing him while at work. 
 
 In painting in water-colours he for many years used 
 only the old hard cake colours, which he ground in 
 saucers, large or small, according to the dimensions of 
 the drawing in hand. Afterwards he adopted the moist 
 colours of modern invention. His range of pigments 
 was strictly limited to those of a simple, and what may 
 be termed an old-fashioned kind. When he made his 
 second sketching excursion into "Wales, in the year 
 1806, his colours were only three or four (and these, for 
 convenience, were ground up and put into bottles 
 previous to starting) — lake, gamboge, indigo, and 
 probably Indian red — perhaps also a brown of some 
 kind. In course of time he increased the number 
 of his colours ; cobalt, vermilion, light red, yellow ochre, 
 sepia, burnt sienna, brown-pink, and one or two more, 
 were added to his colour-box. Emerald-green was also 
 seen there, but of this he used little, merely for an 
 
 K 
 
146 BAVID COX. 
 
 occasional touch on tlie draperies of the figures, the 
 housings of saddle-horses, or on the mossy coating 
 of a stone or tree trunk. He cared nothing for 
 the " pretty " pigments of modem days. With large 
 sable pencUs, well fiUed with the required tints, 
 he flooded and saturated his paper, so that it should 
 be thoroughly stained, to insure the durability of 
 his work, securing his efiects generally at the first 
 trial. A few sharp, brisk, and decisive touches 
 afterwards gave the finish and character desired. The 
 author has seen him on wet days, when in Wales, 
 working in the house on three or four drawings at the 
 same time. To begin, he mixed a quantity of sky- 
 colour sufficient • for all, if he intended them to be 
 somewhat alike in tints — say, showing various modifi- 
 cations of grey — and then taking up one outlined 
 sketch after another, he worked as fast as he could with a 
 large brush, the colour running down his paper in 
 streams, cloud forms and other pecuharities being 
 rapidly shaped and indicated. Whilst one drawing 
 was drying he proceeded with another, taking each up 
 in proper order, gradually progressing with his subjects, 
 introducing colour in the nearer parts and objects, and 
 securing Hght, shadow, efiect, untU the work assumed a 
 finished appearance. Long practice and a profound 
 knowledge of nature enabled him to do this with 
 wonderful facility, and to give to his drawings that 
 expression of truth and fidelity for which they are 
 remarkable. Many of his outline sketches were drawn 
 with charcoal; some of them with black chalk. He 
 
SIS FAVOURITE COLOURS. 147 
 
 would put in tlie shadows and "darker parts with great 
 spirit, drawing the forms characteristically and firmly, 
 and would then go over the whole with plenty of 
 colour, and rapidly, leaving the chalk or charcoal to 
 show through. Sometimes the effect was very happy. 
 Cobalt was his favourite colour for the blue of the sky ; 
 this, mixed with light red, or vermilion, or occasionally 
 with a little lake, with the addition perhaps of a small 
 portion of yellow ochre, represented the shadowed parts 
 of the clouds and the extreme distances of the pictures. 
 From the remote features he worked downwards to the 
 middle grounds, breaking into warmer and more positive 
 tints, marking forms more distinctly, and increasing in 
 power by the introduction of quiet greens and other 
 local colours of the proper atmospheric hue for the 
 distance — his greens were compounded of indigo, lake, 
 yellow ochre, or gamboge. In his fore-grounds he used 
 the transparent and more powerful colours — indigo and 
 gamboge, indigo and brown-pink, indigo and sepia or 
 Vandyke brown, sometimes enriched with burnt sienna 
 or lake. Eaw sienna (in water-colour) he rarely or 
 never employed. Body colour, so much in vogue at 
 the present day, he studiously avoided, except for a 
 sharp touch here and there on the figures, or for very 
 bright lights on the details of the fore-grounds, but 
 always in the smallest quantity. He belonged em- 
 phatically to the school of pure water-colour painters. 
 It is true that occasionally he executed drawings 
 entirely in body colour, but merely as experiments, or 
 as a mere passing freak ; these are much inferior to his 
 K 2 
 
148 DAVIB COX. 
 
 works of the usual kind. There is one of these in the 
 collection of Mrs. H. Betts of Birmingham, presented 
 to that lady by the artist. It is a classical kind of 
 composition, somewhat in the manner of John Martin. 
 Cox happened to see it in a shop window in London, 
 long after he had painted it, when it bore the name of 
 Martin, much to his surprise. He went into the shop 
 and bought it. Many of his latter productions were 
 upon a coarse, low-toned paper manufactured in Scotland, 
 of the kind used for wrapping up reams of the better 
 sort of paper. Of this, although fuU of specks, and 
 sometimes creased, he was very fond, as it enabled him 
 to obtain great power and richness of colour at once, 
 and facilitated the production of those solemn, grand 
 effects by which many of his later works are charac- 
 terised. Some of these, from their immense power, give 
 the impression of having been painted in a medium 
 different from water. The specks alluded to — occasionally 
 large, dark, and prominent — were conspicuous some- 
 times in the skies of his drawings, and had an effect 
 that was far from being agreeable. The author observing 
 one day several unusually large specks in the sky of a 
 drawing, said to him, " Whatever will you do with those 
 great specks, Mr. Cox? I can see them half across 
 the room!" "Specks! specks!" he replied, "why, 
 put a couple of wings to them, and turn them 
 into birds ! " And he did so at once. A sharp, dark 
 touch on either side, with another touch in the middle, 
 transformed them in a moment into rooks ; putting 
 lite and animation into the picture, by suggesting a 
 
HT8 METHOD OF OIL-PAINTING. 149 
 
 breeze that was whirling ahout in the air and around 
 the tops of the trees, and almost carrying the rooks 
 along with it. 
 
 His method of painting in oil was as simple and 
 straightforward as in water. He used in that medium 
 none but the old-fashioned colours which he thought 
 would be permanent, avoiding the captivating pigments 
 of the modern palette. The chromes he never touched ; 
 he said they would " throw his pictures out of tune." 
 His brightest yellows were Naples and lemon yellow ; 
 the Trench Naples yellow in particular he was very fond 
 of using, being, as he said, such a "sweet colour;" and 
 he employed it freely in the composition of his light 
 greens for herbage and foliage, likewise in the golden 
 hues of sunrise and sunset in the painting of skies. 
 For skies and distances unobscured by clouds — summer 
 skies in sunny weather — his blue was sometimes cobalt, 
 as in his water-colour drawings, but more frequently it 
 was French ultramarine, as being a little warmer in tint. 
 He much liked yellow ochre, and also raw umber ; the 
 latter he occasionally touched into the grey hues of his 
 clouds with happy effect. He painted for the greater 
 part vdth solid colour, except in the nearer passages of 
 his pictures, when he laid first a transparent ground of 
 sufficient depth and richness to support whatever details 
 he intended to introduce upon it — a ground composed 
 of raw sienna and black, or black and burnt sienna, or 
 raw umber and raw sienna, or raw sienna with perhaps 
 a little burnt sienna and Prussian blue, or possibly 
 Vandyke brown, with something of a cool tint, of the 
 
150 DAVID COX. 
 
 requisite intensity for powerM shadows and broad 
 masses of dark. On this ground, whilst it was in a wet 
 state, he painted the local forms and details in their 
 proper colours, being careful not to cover the whole of 
 the transparent underground. He rarely pumiced or 
 scraped. He was not much of a glazer, as he usually 
 painted up to the desired tone at once ; but sometimes 
 he passed a little transparent colour over portions of his 
 foregrounds, to tone down or to enrich details which had 
 been left too bright or seemed too opaque. His skies 
 and distances he blended a little with a softening 
 brush, to give the effect of remoteness to those parts, 
 by removing hard lines and severe edges. In painting 
 the foliage of trees, if naturally dark in hue, or rendered 
 dark by cloud or other shadows, whether near the front, 
 or in the middle distance of his subject, he mixed 
 French blue, or perhaps a little Prussian blue, and raw 
 umber, with his yellows, heightened here and there with 
 emerald green, working French ultramarine and white 
 amongst the shadows with a few brisk touches, to give 
 the appearance of intervening air, and also to send them 
 back, when the objects were somewhat remote. These 
 tints laid on a transparent ground of raw umber, driven 
 thinly, or sienna and black, or of Vandyke brown solely, 
 if the trees were near and strongly painted, had a full 
 and rich effect, closely resembling the appearance of the 
 objects. If the foliage were illumined by bright sun- 
 light, his tints were, of course, much Hghter and gayer ; 
 Naples yellow, touched with emerald green or blue, 
 made lighter by the addition of white, or deeper by 
 
PERMANENCE OF HIS OIL FICTUBE8. 151 
 
 ochre or sienna, came freely into play. A sidelong touch, 
 intended to suggest tlie effect of a breeze blowing across 
 the landscape, is often observed in the foliage of his 
 trees and in the herbage of his foregrounds. To 
 produce this appearance, he held his pencil sidewise, 
 drawing it to right or left according to the direction of 
 the wind. Frequently he used his palette knife to 
 flatten or blur those parts of his foliage painting which 
 he considered too " touchy " (to quote his own term), 
 too precise and mechanical in the manipulation, to 
 suggest leaves ruffled by a breeze. In dark, lowering 
 skies and sombre distances he occasionally mixed indigo 
 with his tints, explaining that, although said to be a 
 fugitive pigment when combined with white lead, he 
 could not obtain the true and desired colour without it. 
 That pigment has hitherto stood very well in his 
 pictures. In compounding his yellows and greens, he 
 sometimes mixed together Naples yellow and ochre. 
 These combinations have not altogether been per- 
 manent: a slight change has here and there been 
 observed in these tints ; but generally his pictures, as 
 regards colour, have been improved by time, losing little 
 of their original brightness and purity. His usual 
 vehicle was a mixture of copal varnish and turpentine in 
 equal quantities, with the addition of a little linseed oil 
 to retard the drying, and make it flow from the pencil 
 more readily. Those pictures painted with this medium 
 have stood sound and firm, and happily are undisturbed 
 by the operations of the cleaner. David Oox never 
 used a mahlstick when painting, but kept hand and arm 
 
152 BAriD OOX. 
 
 perfectly free, resting one hand on the other when 
 special steadiness was required in the finishing of 
 figures and small details. He liked plenty of pigment 
 in his brush, and never spared the colour-box; his 
 pictures have consequently an appearance the very 
 opposite of thin and washy. When painting from 
 nature, he frequently worked on small milled boards, a 
 couple of which he carried in his tin box, upon shdes, 
 so that when wet they were prevented touching, as he 
 commonly had two sketches in progress; one of a 
 morning effect— another which he could proceed with 
 later in the day. He painted rapidly, and soon dashed 
 in his subject, always anxious to secure a striking 
 " effect," without which he cared little for any subject. 
 His usual price for these small oil sketches, when 
 induced to part with them by friends and admirers, was 
 only £7 10s. each. But if any one turned out a greater 
 success than common in the finishing, he raised the 
 price to £8. It need not be said that the difference 
 was gladly paid. The author once rescued from 
 destruction one of these beautiful sketches, under cir- 
 cumstances rather amusing. In company with David 
 Cox, he was painting in the " big meadow " at Bettws- 
 y-coed, by the side of the river Llugwy. Cox had 
 made choice of a subject looking across the river, which 
 ran in the foreground from left to right of his picture, 
 the craggy summit of one of the local hills, touched by 
 the morning sun, soaring above the tree-tops and thick 
 woods clothing its sides. The subject and effect were 
 both striking, and Cox drew forth canvas and colours, 
 
SUBBING OUT A FAILURE. 163 
 
 and soon began to work. His companion also com- 
 menced proceedings on another subject close at hand. 
 An hour or so had passed very pleasantly — ^both 
 pictures, judging from the space of canvas covered, had 
 progressed apparently well — when all of a sudden the 
 author, hearing a great bustle behind him, and looking 
 round to ascertain the cause, perceived that Cox had 
 thrown down palette and brushes, and was proceeding, 
 rag in hand, to rub out the whole of his morning's 
 work. " Don't do that, Mr. Cox," the author shouted 
 out. "What is the matter?" "Matter?" said he. 
 " Why, I can't paint at all to-day. Nature is a great 
 deal too hard for me." And again he prepared to efface 
 what he had been doing. " Stop, stop ! don't rub it 
 out. Give it to me. I like it very much ; it is very 
 good indeed." " Take it along then," said he. " Can 
 you spare a tube of Indian yellow ? I have used all 
 mine. Give me one for the picture." The exchange 
 was made with satisfaction — on one side, at all events. 
 In a few weeks the little sketch was framed, hung up 
 in the author's house at Birmingham, and was greatly 
 admired. Several years afterwards Cox was induced to 
 paint a figure in the foreground of the picture,, a fisher- 
 man throwing his fly, which gave completeness to a very 
 charming subject. 
 
 When painting in oil, Cox frequently had mis- 
 givings that his method of working was not in accord- 
 ance with the accepted practice — he cherished the 
 notion that there were secrets which " the oil men " 
 would not tell him — and he was invariably nervous and 
 
154 BAVIB COX. 
 
 fidgety when any of the painters in oil approached his 
 pictures to examine them closely. He suspected that 
 something was wrong, or at least odd and unusual in 
 the manipulation, or in the laying on of his colours. 
 One incident of this kind illustrates his feeling. An 
 oil-painter was watching him. Said Cox — "Come, 
 what is the matter now ? I daresay I have not done 
 it in a proper, artist-like way. My pictures are not 
 intended to he smelt ! So come here, and tell me how 
 you like the general effect. I have sold the picture, 
 
 and to Mr. . So I suppose it is pretty well — 
 
 for me!' The individual addressed replied, " I was 
 looking at the figures, Mr. Cox. How admirably you 
 have painted them ! Why, they are in motion, and 
 will walk out of the picture presently." " Will they ? 
 I am so glad you like them. What do you think of my 
 trees ? " " Why, they are in motion, too. I can 
 almost hear the breeze through the branches ! " Cox 
 smiled and answered, " What do you think a lady said 
 to me yesterday ? She was looking at this picture, and 
 exclaimed, " How fond you are of painting loind, Mr. 
 Cox ! There is always a breeze in your pictures ! I 
 declare I shall take cold, and must put on my shawl ! " 
 " The highest compliment she could have paid you.' 
 " Was it ? Well, well ! Now let us go down to tea." 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 His Position as an Artist — Serious Attack of Illness. 
 
 In the brilliant cluster of eminent water-colour 
 painters who were his contemporaries — Turner, Prout, 
 De Wint, Copley Fielding, Barrett, Cattermole, William 
 Hunt, and others — men with whom he was associated 
 at an early period, and who by their genius have given 
 to the British School of water-colour art its pre- 
 eminence over all the world — David Cox stood con- 
 spicuous. The originality of his style, the charming 
 variety of his effects, the picturesque loveliness of his 
 subjects, the novelty of his ideas, the beauty of his 
 colour, the truthfulness to Nature manifest in his works, 
 singled him out, and placed him in the front rank of 
 the artists of his day. He was never so popular, 
 perhaps, as some of his compeers; as, for instance, 
 Copley Fielding, whose works were more highly 
 finished, and whose style, in the opinion of the general 
 public, was more captivating than his. Pielding's 
 drawings in the exhibitions — frequently numerous — 
 were eagerly purchased ; sometimes to the great annoy- 
 ance of Cox, whose finest works were often returned to 
 him unsold. There was a brusque and homely ap- 
 pearance about the latter, frequently a roughness and 
 blottiness in the manipulation, which were by no 
 
156 DAVID COX. 
 
 means attractive to fastidious persons, wlio fancied 
 that softness and smoothness of surface were evidences 
 of high artistic excellence j that delicacy of handling 
 and careful elaboration were proofs of consummate 
 skill, and tests of merit. Such persons would pass by 
 the broad, vigorous, suggestive, masculine drawings of 
 David Cox with a shrug, and an entire disbelief in his 
 genius, to secure the more polished and pleasing pro- 
 ductions of his neighbour. But Time has reversed the 
 verdict, and set that matter right. " Old Farmer 
 Cox," as he was sometimes called, has taken his 
 proper place among his competitors, second only to 
 Turner, the greatest master of landscape art the world 
 has ever seen, and in some respects not second even 
 to him. Still, in the days when his commanding 
 qualities were imperfectly recognised. Cox had com- 
 pensation for the general neglect. He always had 
 enthusiastic, admirers — and not only admirers, but 
 many who also loved the man as well as his works — 
 among the ablest and most eminent of his brother 
 artists, and the best art connoisseurs of his day, who 
 knew his worth and acknowledged his genius, and this 
 comforted him under many disappointments. The 
 consciousness of this appreciation of his merits by 
 those whose good opinion was "an exceeding great 
 reward," upheld him when smarting under the morti- 
 fication of receiving back unsold, year after year, many 
 of the finest works he had contributed to the annual 
 exhibitions. The following letter, addressed to his old 
 friend Mr. Eoberts, during one of his annual visits to 
 
A LETTER ON THE EXHIBITIONS. 157 
 
 London, shortly after the opening of tlie Water-Colour 
 exhibition of 1846, is very interesting, as giving Cox^s 
 opinion of the contents of the various exhibitions 
 then open to the public, and as touching on his own 
 indifferent success and position in the Water-Colour 
 Gallery, PaU Mall. This letter is dated thirteen years 
 before his death, but his position was not very 
 materially changed afterwards : he was never so great 
 a favourite with the general public as some other 
 exhibiting members of his society : — 
 
 Laurel Cottage, Streatham Place, 
 
 Brixton Hill, London, 
 
 April 28tli, 1846. 
 
 My Dear Fbiend Roberts, — I know you would expect to have 
 heard from me ere this, but you know what a place London is for 
 business and objects of interest. I have been fully occupied in 
 touching upon my drawings and looking at exhibitions, and I am sorry 
 to say none first-rate — that is, neither the B. Institution, British 
 Artists, or the Old Water-colour. And I fear you will think it but 
 an indifferent show. They all appear much the same as for the last 
 ten years. My own drawings are most of them tolerably well hung, 
 and the members say how well they like them. They certainly are 
 very unlike any one else's. For me to say more, or what I think of my 
 own, will be rather more than I wish, and would rather leave it for 
 you and others. Tlie Times of yesterday gave me a favourable 
 criticism, and if the rest of the papers do not say less, I shall be very 
 well reported. I rather fear The Spectator on Monday next. They 
 generally are rather severe. 
 
 My "Forest Scene,'' and the "Mountain Spring," seem to be 
 most liked by the artists. [These were called in the catalogue, 
 "Outskirts of a Forest," and "The Watering Trough" — both very 
 fine works.] I have at present sold only two — ten-guinea drawings 
 — but as I see my " Forest " looks so well under a glass [Cox usually 
 had his exhibition drawings /rawec? in London, and did not see them 
 
158 DAVID COX. 
 
 " under glass " before he visited the exhibition], I intend purchasing 
 that for my own pleasure, and when I go town to-morrow shall mark 
 it "sold." . . . Fielding has sent more than forty drawings, 
 some large, and a great number appear to be sold. De Wint has 
 also sold some, but I do not like him so well as in former exhibitions. 
 "We have two very promising young men — ^the two Fripps — one in 
 figure, the other in landscape. Harding, one drawing ; Stone, one, 
 small. I have heard that the two latter gents, are about to leave the 
 Water-colour Society to make themselves eligible for the ballot in 
 the R. Academy. I learn that Stone stands a chance. ... I 
 was not much pleased with either the B. Institution or B. Artists. 
 The picture that I liked, and could look at with most pleasure, is a 
 " Showery Day," by Dighton. He was a pupil of Miiller. I do not 
 know anything about the work or painting of it. Turner's may be 
 very clever, and I am bound to suppose he cannot do anything very 
 
 bad, but I could not very well discover the merit of it. L 1 
 
 think good, but very little interest — no mind. I don't like Danby. 
 . . . . Pyne, at the British Artists', stands first, but he is 
 lighter and paler than ever. There are not many good pictures there. 
 Anthony is of very great promise, and has one or two, very large and 
 great, and in most respects good. Holland, not so good : but I soon 
 tired, and do not now retain a favourable opinion of the exhibition. 
 
 I called at the " Craven " on Saturday, and inquired of Mr. 
 Tapster whether you were arrived, as I expected you and Mr. Birch 
 at the Private View that day. , But I was disappointed that neither 
 of you were there. I believe the "Academy" will open on Monday 
 next, and I shall stay in town for the purpose of going on the day of 
 opening, and again on Tuesday ; pack up on Wednesday, and return 
 home on Thursday. Wm. Ellis is very anxious to get out of town 
 for Bolton, and this will oblige me to leave on Thursday, as I have a 
 great wish to finish one of my large pictures for Manchester, and it 
 must be finished before I can leave for Yorkshire. I have seen 
 Jutsum, but not Bright — he lives so far ofi". I have also seen H. 
 Johnson, and met him again yesterday, at the Old Watei>Colour 
 Gallery. 
 
 So much for gossip about art and artists, and other 
 matters connected with Cox's visit to London. The 
 
WITHDRAWS HIS PICTUBES FROM SALE. 159 
 
 concluding portion of the letter relates to kome affairs, 
 and shows the kindly feeling of the man with regard 
 toj^those who were known to or dependent upon him, 
 and the gratitude he felt for small services rendered 
 to him or his. In fact, he could never sufficiently 
 repay any one for kindness shown him. He goes on to 
 say:— 
 
 From a letter I received from Ann yesterday, I was very, very 
 sorry to learn so bad an account of poor Ada Birch. I fear our 
 friend must prepare himself to lose her. Her illness, I suppose, 
 prevented him coming to town last week, and unless she is better 
 perhaps will prevent his coming next week. 
 
 I beg to give my kindest regards to dear Mrs. Roberts, and 
 thank her for her kindness in going to see my servant Ann, and you 
 also I beg to thank most sincerely for going and making so kiad an 
 offer, in case she wanted anything. Loye to your two darlings ; and 
 to our friend Birch. David and Hannah beg to send their kindest 
 regards to Mrs. Roberts and yourself ; and with many thanks for all 
 kindness, 
 
 I remain, yours very truly, 
 
 David Cox. 
 
 P.S. — Tell our friend Birch I should have written to him, but I 
 cannot be certain whether he would be at home, or at Redleaf. He 
 will therefore please excuse. 
 
 To Wm. Roberts, Esq., Metchley, Harborne, Birmiagham. 
 
 Having regard to Cox's indifferent success in selling 
 the works he contributed to the Water-Colour exhibi- 
 tions, it is amusing to read in the foregoing letter that 
 on finding his principal drawing, the " Outskirts of a 
 Forest," had not met with a purchaser soon after the 
 opening of the exhibition — that he had sold only " two 
 
160 DAVID COX. 
 
 small £10 works," whilst other exhibitors had met with 
 a considerable amount of success — " it was his intention 
 (as it looked so well under a glass) to purchase it for 
 his own pleasure, and that on the following day he 
 would mark it ' Sold ! ' " Poor Cox ! He doubtless 
 felt greatly mortified and disappointed that the public 
 did not appreciate his efforts as they did those of some 
 of his brother artists of inferior merit, as he thought ; 
 and must have quitted the exhibition many a time dis- 
 gusted and disheartened. He had been known, shortly 
 before the close of the exhibition, when but few of his 
 drawings had met with a purchaser, and his competitors 
 had sold nearly the whole of their contributions, to 
 order the secretary to afl&x the ticket "Sold" on aU his 
 unsold works ; thus, in disdain, withdrawing them from 
 the competition. " My drawings," he says, " are cer- 
 tainly very unlike any one else's." This will perhaps 
 account in some measure for so many being returned 
 on his hands. They were the productions of an original 
 mind, working in a manner peculiar to itself, having no 
 resemblance to that of any other artist, and to be judged 
 of by only the few. He despised mere "portraits of 
 places," as he termed the subjects of some of his 
 brethren, which caught the public taste, and were 
 quickly bought up. It was not to accomplish such work 
 that he had devoted his life and the best energies of 
 his mind to the pursuit of art! But in spite of his 
 many and trying disappointments, year after year ; and 
 notwithstanding his mortification at perceiving that 
 his " bits " and small works only were, as a rule, those 
 
SNOWDON FROM OAPEL CUBIO. 161 
 
 for whicli the public had any regard, whilst his impor- 
 tant drawings — those into which he had thrown his 
 whole soul, and to the production of which he had 
 given the best efforts of his genius, with all he knew 
 and felt and could imagine — were looked upon with 
 comparative indifference ; he bore up bravely under all, 
 and kept on working in the way that was natural to 
 him — in the way he thought best — achieving man}^ 
 grand successes and producing magnificent works, for 
 which, now that their creator is gone, the world has be- 
 come grateful. 
 
 Among these successes, and in addition to the im- 
 portant drawings before mentioned, may be enumerated 
 several pictures of " Beeston Castle," in Cheshire (one 
 superb drawing, with a stormy sky, once in the posses- 
 sion of Mr. Henry Bradley, a great admirer of Cox — 
 and another with a luminous rainbow, a most beautiful 
 work), the " Mountain Top " (very grand indeed, one of 
 the artist's most impressive productions), the " Moors 
 near Bettws-y-coed," " Gordal Scar," " Peat-gatherers 
 Eeturning from the Moors," " Snowdon from Capel 
 Curig." The writer was with David Cox when he 
 made the study for this last great work, and will never 
 forget the enthusiasm with which Cox recorded the 
 superb effect he beheld on first catching sight of the 
 mountain. Snowdon was revealed under a cloudy sky, 
 was of the deepest and most intense cobalt blue, and a 
 misty wreath of snowy whiteness hung from near the 
 summit to about half-way down the mountain side. 
 Woods in dark shadow occupied a portion of the middle 
 
 L 
 
162 BAVID COX. 
 
 distance, enliancing the effect of tlie whole scene ; and 
 altogether the spectacle was startling in its sublimity. 
 Cox was entranced ; and saying, " I must try for that ! " 
 pulled out paper and colours as quickly as possible, and 
 began his drawing. He dashed away at great speed, 
 anxious to secure the effect before a change took place ; 
 and in a short time completed a most powerful sketch. 
 Trom this he afterwards worked out one of his 
 finest and most suggestive drawings. Well, in this 
 way he laboured on, day after day and year after year, 
 " toiling, hoping, rejoicing ; " sometimes, no doubt, cast 
 down and desponding, but not for long. His spirit rose 
 again buoyant and hopeful ; he pursued his accustomed 
 way, and accomplished his allotted tasks nobly and 
 bravely. Time, in his course, beheld the indomitable 
 artist working, with scarce a break, either at his easel 
 indoors or in the fields, jotting down the beautiful 
 features of nature and the effects that so delighted him, 
 good health aiid a good constitution sustaining him 
 through his labours, until a rather serious attack of 
 bronchitis in the spring of the year 1853 compelled him 
 for several weeks to lay down palette and colours and give 
 himself the requisite nursing and rest. He had scarcely 
 recovered from this attack when, in the month of June 
 following, he was seized with an illness of a much more 
 alarming character. On going into his garden for the 
 purpose of cutting asparagus for dinner, the position 
 of stooping over the bed for some little time brought on 
 a determination of blood to the head, which caused him 
 to fall to the ground in an almost senseless condition. 
 
DANGEROUS ATTACK OF ILLNESS. 163 
 
 He -was discovered lying tliere by his servant Mercy, 
 who was wondering what had become of her dear master, 
 as he did not return to the house, and she, in the utmost 
 terror, raised an alarm which speedily brought some one 
 to her assistance. Mrs. Fowler at the time was on a 
 visit to her parents at Hereford, and knew nothing of 
 what had happened, but a messenger was despatched to 
 the residence of Mrl Eoberts, whose nephew, being 
 fortunately at home, posted off to Birmingham, and soon 
 brought back to the assistance of Mr. Cox his usual 
 medical adviser. All proper remedies were employed, 
 and the old man was ere long restored to his former con- 
 sciousness. The attack had produced a slight congestion 
 of the brain, and for a time he was very ill and com- 
 pletely disabled, but, with skilful treatment and good 
 nursing, he eventually rallied, so aS to be able to go about 
 the house and garden, and to take short walks occasionally, 
 leaning on the arm of some member of his family or of 
 a domestic. In a few weeks he felt himself strong 
 enough to do a little out-of-door sketching, and to sit at 
 his easel to paint in oil. Grateful for the kind services 
 rendered to him by his friend Eoberts' nephew in 
 fetching the doctor from town at the time of his attack, 
 the first picture he was able to paint was presented to 
 that gentleman as a mark of his appreciation of the act. 
 He cheered up considerably in a few weeks, and was 
 happy at being able to get to work again, but he was 
 never the same man after this illness. His sight was 
 injured, and his memory impaired, particularly as regards 
 the names of persons and places, of dates, and other 
 L 2 
 
164 BAVIB COX. 
 
 matters. It is a fact that sometimes lie even forgot his 
 own name, and the name of the person on whom he 
 was going to make a call, and was compelled to return 
 home without accomplishing the purpose of his visit. 
 He one day went to the house of a most respected friend, 
 Mr. Hyla Betts, with a beautiful water-colour drawing, 
 which he wished to present to the lady of the house as 
 a remembrance ; but when the servant answered his 
 knock at the door he was unable to inform her who he 
 was, or whom he wanted to see. Luckily there was 
 some one within hearing who recognised his voice, and 
 called him by name. This aflBiction did not (as has been 
 said) prevent his painting occasionally, and he produced 
 a number of works, usually of small size, both in oil and 
 water, after the attack ; but although many of them 
 exhibited evidences of his former genius, they were feeble 
 in drawing, often inharmonious in colour, and precision 
 of touch and freedom of handling were conspicuously 
 absent. It is to be regretted that he allowed some of 
 these inferior works to go forth into the world ; but his 
 admirers were eager to possess something from his hand, 
 whatever might be its quality ; and doubtless his im- 
 paired vision, which was the chief cause of the inferiority 
 of these, his latest productions, rendered him unaware of 
 their deficiencies. It is true that he sent to the exhi- 
 bitions, drawings of great excellence and considerable 
 importance between the period of this iUness in 1853 
 and the time of his death in 1859 ; but the majority, if 
 not all of them, must have been earlier works, looked 
 out from his large collection of sketches and studies, and 
 
RENEWED VISITS TO SETTWS. 165 
 
 requiring but little finish to fit them for the purpose. 
 It is probable that they were dated when the last touches 
 were added to them ; and this wiU account for some of 
 them possessing the finest qualities of his best time. 
 Occasionally, when feeling in better health and spirits, 
 he dashed off something manifesting the old charac- 
 teristics in conception, colour, and treatment; but, 
 speaking generally, the works of this final period may 
 readily be distinguished from those of his best day by 
 feeble drawing, an absence of freedom in the manipula- 
 tion — particularly in his oil pictures — great opaqueness 
 of colour in the latter, and an uncertain touch. So soon 
 as Cox began to feel strong enough after this alarming 
 attack — in about a couple of months — he determined to 
 pay another visit to the dear old spot, Bettws. He 
 took with him one of his granddaughters, his housekeeper, 
 Mrs. Fowler, and Mr. Greorge Priest, a Birmingham 
 frame- maker, for company, and to see that he was properly 
 cared for. The " Royal Oak " having become too noisy 
 for him, the party took up their quarters at the farm- 
 house close by. For three years afterwards Cox 
 continued his periodical visits to Bettws, nntU he could 
 no longer undertake the journey, his last sojourn there 
 being in the autumn of 1856. On all these occasions 
 he was accompanied by friends, or members of his family, 
 and for the sake of undisturbed peace and quietness, he 
 lodged at' the old Farm. For a short time he went on 
 with his out-door work, as he was wont to do, though 
 not with the old energy and persistence ; his strength 
 was gradually deserting him, and on each recurring visit 
 
166 DAVID COX. 
 
 he found himself more feeble than before. He was con- 
 tent to stroll about short distances, attended by those 
 who accompanied him from home, making " bits " and 
 " outlines " and memoranda of " effects " that pleased 
 him ; chatting with passers-by, and gazing with all 
 the delight of his better days on the beautiful scenes 
 and objects surrounding him on every side. We may 
 conceive him on one of those golden evenings, when the 
 sun was sinking behind the western hills, contemplating 
 the glorious spectacle with tearful eyes, at the thought 
 that his sun was setting too, and in brief space would 
 be seen no more by those on earth ! — lost through the 
 long night of ages to come ! 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 1855. 
 
 Visit to Edinburgh — His Portrait Painted by Sir J. W. Gordon, E.A. — Presen- 
 tation of it at Metchley Abbey, Harborne — Engraved by S. Bellin — Bust 
 by Peter HoUius (Posthumous). 
 
 At the commencement of tlie summer of 1855, it was 
 suggested by one of the many Birmingham friends and 
 admirers of David Cox that a portrait of him should be 
 painted by some artist of eminence, with a view to its 
 ultimately being placed in some public gallery in his 
 native toAvn. This proposal was warmly taken up ; 
 meetings were held ; a committee was formed to carry 
 out the project ; a sufiBcient sum was quickly collected ; 
 and it was decided to give the commission to Sir John 
 Watson Grordon, E.A. and P.E.S.A. But here a diffi- 
 culty arose, of no slight magnitude. Sir John Watson 
 Gordon was far advanced in years, and unable to visit 
 Birmingham for the purpose of painting the picture; 
 and poor Cox himself was not only old, but very feeble 
 and infirm. Cox's medical advisers were consulted, and 
 were of opinion that there would be no danger in his 
 travelling to Edinburgh by easy stages ; and he was 
 recommended to take that course. The length of the 
 journey, and apprehended excitement consequent upon 
 it, terrified him greatly, and for some time he declined 
 to adopt the advice of his friends. Sir Watson Gordon 
 
168 DAVID COX. 
 
 also was firm in his determination not to travel to 
 Birmingliam, although much gratified by having had 
 the commission placed in his hands. After much per- 
 suasion, Cox at length consented to run the risk of a 
 journey to Edinburgh ; and accordingly, in the month 
 of August of that year, accompanied by his son and by 
 the writer of this Memoir, he started for Scotland. It 
 was decided to take a couple of days to perform the 
 journey, and, therefore, the party slept the first night at 
 Carlisle. An amusing incident occurred at that place. 
 After breakfast on the morning following their arrival, 
 the party sallied forth to look about the city, and see 
 the memorable old castle, famous in the Border wars be- 
 tween Scotland and her Southern neighbour. Cox was 
 much struck -with the grandeur of the castle-keep, 
 which stood erect, massive, large, and strong, and was 
 desirous of making a sketch of it. The party accord- 
 ingly ascended to the ramparts, and Cox took his posi- 
 tion, and commenced a drawing in colours of the fine old 
 keep, whilst a sentry was patrolling to and fro on the 
 ramparts beside him, interested in what was going on. 
 Gruns, it was remarked, were in position, pointing down- 
 wards through the embrasures, in the direction of 
 the Border-land, to scare away a possible enemy. The 
 venerable artist had not been long at work, and was 
 making good progress with an efiective sketch, when an 
 official came up on to the ramparts, and ordered him to 
 desist. " Why so ? " inquired the old man. " You are 
 making a drawing of one of Her Majesty's fortresses in 
 time of yvstr," replied the official, " and must give over 
 
OABLISLE AND EBINBUBOS. 169 
 
 instantly." (The Eussian "War was at that time being 
 fought out in the Crimea — some distance away, cer- 
 tainly !) The important official turned on his heel ; and 
 Cox, disgusted, closed his sketch-book at once, and 
 prepared to leave the castle. When the Jack-in-office 
 had departed (he was keeper of the ordnance, or some- 
 thing of that sort), the sentry walked up to Cox, and 
 said, "Why didn't you give him half-a-crown ? — that 
 was what he wanted." " The humbug ! " muttered Cox 
 to himself; " I would not have given him a penny ! " 
 and marched away from the place in high dudgeon. 
 Walking round the Castle walls, a good view of the 
 keep was, however, obtained from a spot near the river 
 Eden, and there an effective sketch was made — beyond 
 the authority of the ordnance official — from which Cox 
 afterwards executed a picture in oil. 
 
 On the evening of that day the little party reached 
 Edinburgh, and took up their quarters for a short 
 time at the " Royal Hotel," in Princes Street. It was 
 getting dusk when they arrived, and as they sat looking 
 from the coffee-room window across to the " Old Town " 
 opposite, lights sprang up in innumerable windows, 
 storey above storey, in the lofty houses towering along 
 the ridge which faced them, and the effect was most 
 interesting and novel, suggesting to the strangers an 
 illumination on the occasion of some important event. 
 Cox sat and gazed, delighted, for a considerable time. 
 He was also much struck, on the following morning, 
 with the grand picturesque appearance of the old Castle, 
 on its soaring rock, touched as it was by the beams of 
 
170 BAVW COX. 
 
 the rising sun. The effect was remarkably fine, and 
 Cox wished for his painting-materials, and a convenient 
 spot from which to make a memorandum of so striking 
 a subject. During their stay they took a delightful 
 drive round Arthur's Seat ; visited Calton Hill ; strolled 
 to Holyrood Palace ; about the streets and wynds 
 and through some of the closes of the Old Town — 
 neither very sweet nor clean, but particularly inter- 
 esting, and affording many fine subjects for a painter 
 of the quaint and picturesque. With all they saw 
 Cox was greatly delighted, and thought " Auld Eeekie " 
 a city full of charms. 
 
 On the next morning after their arrival Cox and 
 his companions visited Sir John Gordon at his rooms in 
 George Street. He received them very cordially, 
 shaking Cox warmly by the hand, and saying, in a 
 broad Scottish accent, "Welcome to Scotland, Maister 
 Corks ! " Everything was ready for the first sitting ; 
 the rostrum, with a chair (once the property of David 
 Wilkie) fixed upon it, was placed in position; close 
 beside it stood the easel, with a virgin canvas waiting 
 for the first strokes of the pencil, and soon the work 
 was commenced. Although a good deal broken in 
 constitution, Cox carried in his complexion much ruddy, 
 healthy colour, and looked a splendid subject for a 
 portrait — in fact. Sir John said he had not had a finer 
 subject since he painted Sir Walter Scott, whom Cox, 
 at that time, much resembled. The writer watched 
 the progress of this portrait with great interest. It 
 was executed in a very easy, straightforward manner. 
 
POBTBAIT BY SIB WATSON GOBDON. 171 
 
 The various tints were laid on tlie canvas side by side, 
 without being blended, very much like mosaic ; and it 
 began to be a likeness, striking and unmistakable, 
 almost from the first touch. It was a great pleasure 
 to observe the portrait growing, as it were, stroke by 
 stroke, into a second David Cox, so close a resemblance 
 it bore to the original, who was sitting beside it. With 
 regard to the manner of painting, the writer remarked 
 to the artist, " Tou do not appear to use a softener to 
 blend your tints. Sir John." "No," said he; "if you 
 wish to make flesh look like leather, use a softener ! " 
 The picture progressed with unerring precision ; each 
 sitting carried on the work with satisfaction to all. On 
 one occasion poor Cox was very weary, and seemed to be 
 dropping off into a doze, when the painter, in his broad 
 Scottish accent, exclaimed, " Wake up, noo, Maister 
 Corks ! I am going to do your expression." Poor 
 Cox, just on the borders of sleep, could not compre- 
 hend what was said to him, and, turning to his son, 
 asked, "What does he say, David?" In five sittings, 
 on as many consecutive days, all that was necessary 
 to be done from the life was accomplished. The like- 
 ness was a great success. 
 
 The Edinburgh artists would have been glad could 
 they have given their eminent brother painter a public 
 reception, but some of them were from home at that time, 
 and Cox's health would not have permitted him to 
 gratify their desire. Calls were made on Thomas Faed, 
 E.A., Mr. D. 0. Hill, secretary of the Scottish 
 Academy, and one or two others ; and an invitation to 
 
172 DAVID COX. 
 
 dine with Sir John Grordon at his residence near New- 
 haven was accepted. The host being a bachelor, his 
 sister. Miss Watson, received his guests, and Mr. 
 Watson, a relative of Sir John, was of the party. The 
 dining-room contained a number of Sir John's works, 
 mostly figure and subject pictures, which it was con- 
 jectured had been exhibited and had not sold. The 
 artist had commenced his career by painting pictures of 
 this description, but want of success compelled him to 
 turn his attention to portraiture. And even as a 
 portrait painter, notwithstanding his great ability, it 
 was long before he became eminent in Scotland, his 
 own countrymen (as he informed his guests) thinking 
 little of his skill until after he had been elected into the 
 Eoyal Academy of England ! After dinner the party 
 were shown over Sir John's workshop, at the bottom 
 of his garden, containing a carpenter's bench, and all 
 the requisite tools for making stretchers for his pictures. 
 His canvases were also prepared on the premises — Mr. 
 Watson being his assistant in the work. It may be 
 mentioned here that it was not canvas, as generally 
 used, on which Sir John painted, but Scotch sheeting, 
 which he preferred. The portrait of David Cox was 
 painted on this material. 
 
 When this portrait was in progress, the artist was 
 also engaged on the picture of another sitter, who was 
 Custodian of the " Eegister of Marriages," belonging 
 to one of the old Edinburgh churches, and who 
 wished this book to be introduced into his picture. 
 This volume was shown to Cox and his friends by Sir 
 
PBHSENTATION OF HIS POBTBAIT ■- 1855. 173 
 
 John; and it may be interesting to some to know- 
 that in it they read — still legible — the register of the 
 marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with Darnley ! 
 
 At the expiration of a week, Cox's portrait having 
 been nearly finished, the little party bade adieu to 
 Scotland, and returned on their homeward journey, 
 staying a short time, to rest, at the pretty cottage of 
 their friend Mr. E. G. Reeves, at Bolton-le-Sands. The 
 portrait was exhibited the following season at the Royal 
 Academy in London, where it excited much attention, 
 and was afterwards engraved in mezzotint, in the finest 
 manner, by Samuel Bellin, who, from his admiration 
 of Cox, charged a merely nominal sum for his work ; 
 and a copy of the print was presented to each subscriber 
 to the picture. 
 
 The ceremony of the presentation of the portrait 
 to David Cox took place on Monday, 19th of November, 
 1855. Mr. Charles Birch, chairman of the Portrait 
 Committee, and the artist's old and particular friend, 
 issued invitations to a number. of the subscribers, and 
 others interested in the event, to assemble at his resi- 
 dence, Metchley Abbey, Harborne, to witness the pro- 
 ceedings. A large party met together in the Picture 
 Gallery of the Abbey to do honour to Cox, and justice 
 to the good things which their host had placed on his 
 hospitable board. Around the walls hnng many works 
 of art of high character by the most eminent painters of 
 the day — Turner, and Leslie, and Etty, and Constable, 
 and many others, including charming pictures by Cox 
 himself, of whose genius Mr. Birch was one of the 
 
174 DAVID COX. 
 
 earliest and most devoted among many worshippers. 
 The portrait, surmounted with festoons of laurel, was 
 placed at the bottom of the room ; and a pleasant sight 
 it was to behold the long rows of guests assembled to 
 pay honour to their old friend, who was seated at the 
 right hand of Mr. Birch, and who, though gratified at 
 this recognition of his merits, was nevertheless in a state 
 of nervous trepidation, wondering how he should get 
 through the trying ordeal before him. So soon as the 
 table was cleared, the host rose to make a formal pre- 
 sentation of the portrait to his distinguished guest. 
 This he did with admirable taste and feeling, alluding to 
 Cox's early struggles for fame, the high position he had 
 now attained, and his many excellent qualities as a man, 
 rendering him in every way worthy of the honour about 
 to be conferred. The honorary secretary, Mr. John 
 Jaffray, then read an address to Mr. Cox, which he had 
 written for the purpose, and which was afterwards pre- 
 fixed to a small volume containing the autographs of 
 upwards of a hundred of the subscribers, and which 
 was also presented to Cox : — 
 To Mr. David Cox. 
 
 Dear Sir,^ — Several old friends, wlio for many years have en- 
 joyed the pleasure of intimate communion with you, and a few- 
 others who only know you by your professional works, having a 
 desire to express to you their admiration of your genius and their 
 respect for your private character, have entered into a subscription, 
 the result of which is the portrait now presented to you in the names 
 of the subscribers. 
 
 In thus expressing their feelings they were also influenced by the 
 desire of preserving in your native town a memorial of one who 
 already holds a high place in the estimation of all who can 
 distinguish between the meretricious and true in art, and who will 
 
ADBBESS PRESENTED TO EIM. 1T5 
 
 yet be held in higher repute as an able teacher in a genial, manly 
 school of landscape-painting. For, disregarding the mere outward 
 prettiness of Nature, you seized the true essence of her grandeur, and 
 the spirit of her beauty, and became her faithful and therefore her 
 famous exponent. 
 
 It has been said of those who patiently and with a siagle mind 
 love Virtue for her own sake, that the very act of self-denial is 
 happiness. The same may be said of the patient, modest, unselfish 
 student of Nature. To him she reveals her secrets and lays bare her 
 beauty ; the very act of self-sacrifice is the passport to fame. 
 
 Such we believe to be the spirit in which you entered upon and 
 pursued your half-century of study. Beginning in a humble way, 
 neither aided by patronage, nor buoyed up by applause, you have 
 won a high place amongst contemporary artists, have made your name 
 famous in many lands, and, better still, have surrounded your de- 
 clining years with troops of friends who not only admire your genius 
 but reverence and love you. To the man as well as to the artist we 
 offer this mark of respect. 
 
 Like many who have climbed to the highest pinnacles of fame, 
 you tasted adversity. In the two extremes you have shown the 
 same high qualities of mind ; bearing obscurity with manly fortitude, 
 and, what is still more difficult, acquiring fame without losing the 
 simplicity of your character. These are rare qualities always, very 
 rare in an age of showy accomplishment and restless action, and by 
 preserving in some public building in your native town this record 
 of you — a record as true and unaffected as the man it represents — we 
 seek to perpetuate the example of your private virtues as well as the 
 remembrance of your professional fame. 
 
 Accept then, dear sir, this expression of the admiration and love 
 of your friends ; and they are sure that you will value the gift more 
 highly as' being the work of an artist kindred to yourself in spirit, 
 who in a different walk of art has won an honourable reputation, 
 and who by this portrait has added another to the list of his pro- 
 fessional successes. 
 
 We fervently hope that you may long be spared to wear the 
 laurels you have so well won, to give more evidence of the unabated 
 freshness of your thoughts and the vigour of your pencil, and to 
 enjoy the serene repose of a virtuous and honoured old age. 
 
 Birmingham, November \2th, 1855. 
 
176 DAVID COX. 
 
 Poor Cox, broken down in healtt as he was, and 
 very feeble, was unable to respond to this address, or to 
 return thanks in words. This duty was discharged 
 by deputy; and on the conclusion of the few words 
 uttered in his behalf by his friend and medical adviser, 
 Dr. Bell Fletcher, he rose from his seat, and (all he 
 could do) approved what had been said with a silent 
 bow. Shortly afterwards he wished his friends good 
 night — the hour grovsdng late, for him — and went home, 
 tenderly attended by his old friend and fellow-artist, 
 Mr. C. W. Radclyffe, to partake of his simple supper of 
 bread and milk. 
 
 Until the death of David Cox, this portrait hung in 
 his sitting-room — the counterpart of himself. After his 
 death it was handed over, for safe keeping, to the 
 Birmingham and Midland Institute ; and it is now 
 adorning the Fine Art Gallery belonging to the town. 
 The engraved plate, after the requisite number of 
 impressions had been taken from it, was given to Mr. 
 Cox, to be bequeathed to his son, who now possesses it. 
 A memorial bust, in marble, executed by Mr. Peter 
 Holhns, of Birmingham, was also subscribed for some 
 time after the death of Cox, and is an excellent likeness 
 of the old man in his last days. This is likewise placed 
 in the town gallery. In 1874, a few loving friends 
 subscribed a sum of money to place a memorial window 
 in the old church at Harborne, where the painter 
 worshipped. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 1858—9. 
 
 Last Visit to London, and to Bettws-y-coed — Illness and Death — Funeral in 
 Harbome Churchyard — Memorial Window in the Church. 
 
 It has already been mentioned that when the portrait 
 painted by Sir J. W. Gordon came from the hands of 
 the engraver, it was delivered to Cox, to be retained 
 by him during his life, agreeably to the decision 
 of the committee ; afterwards to be permanently 
 placed in a public institution in Birmingham. Cox, 
 was, of course, well pleased to have it in his possession, 
 and to see it hanging in his sitting-room as long as he 
 could take care of it; but he felt nevertheless that he 
 was only a trustee for others, who were soon to take 
 charge of it, and that the picture was, after all, not his 
 own. He would have been better satisfied if it had 
 been given to him to deal with as he thought fit; in 
 that case it would undoubtedly have been bequeathed to 
 his son. He often said to his friends, " Oh, I wish 
 David could have had this portrait ! " But he was 
 determined that his son should have a portrait of him, 
 and that by an artist eminent in his profession. Ac- 
 cordingly, on visiting London, in the summer of 1856 
 — ^the year following that in which the Gordon portrait 
 was painted — ^he arranged to sit to Mr. Boxall, whose 
 portraits were much admired, and who was delighted to 
 
178 DAVID COX. 
 
 have the opportunity of painting so distinguislied an 
 artist as David Cox. This picture, when finished, was 
 presented to Mr. David Cox, jun., who treasures it with 
 affectionate care. It has not heen considered so good a 
 likeness of the old man as the portrait by Grordon. 
 There is in the expression a suddenly-awakened spasm 
 sf intelligence, which is not happy, and is unhke the 
 usual expression seen on the face of Cox, which was 
 always intelligent, sometimes suggesting an acute 
 penetration, but never a waking-up of the intellect in a 
 sudden and spasmodic manner. Mr. Boxall no doubt 
 was anxious to make his sitter look like the man of 
 genius that he was, but in the attempt he rather forced 
 the expression. 
 
 The winter of 1855 and the spring-time of 1856 
 came and went and still found David Cox at work, pro- 
 ducing both pictures in oil and water-colour drawings 
 of varying excellence, some of them exhibiting quah- 
 ties of a high order, but many showing proofs of 
 declining powers and physical weakness. He con- 
 tributed a number of works, as usual, to the exhibition 
 of his society, and surprised his friends, who knew of 
 his failing health, by the display of flashes of genius 
 manifest in productions which, they feared, would be 
 his last. The hand of the old veteran was evidently 
 trembling and unsteady, but his spirit retained much 
 of its fire, and its conceptions were still marked by 
 poetry and beauty, as in days gone by. 
 
 On the approach of the autumn of 1856, after his re- 
 turn from London, where he went to sit to Mr. Boxall, 
 
LAST VISIT TO BUTTWS : 1856. 179 
 
 and to see the exhibitions, Cox began to meditate another 
 visit to his dear Bettws-y-coed, longing for a fond, per- 
 haps farewell look at the favourite spot. Although 
 dreading the fatigue of the journey, he plucked up 
 courage, and started for "Wales and his beloved haunts ; 
 glad to find himself once again taking up his quarters 
 at the old farm-house. This was his last visit to 
 Bettws. He was too feeble to do more than make a 
 few slight sketches, and to saunter about in the 
 beautiful scenery, inhaling with keen relish the pure 
 mountain air. He returned to Harborne the better for 
 his trip, but by no means restored to his former state of 
 health. Nevertheless, he set to work, as usual, and 
 began to get ready drawings for the ensuing exhibition. 
 During the winter he was not so well; his feebleness 
 increased ; his sight was not so good, and sometimes it 
 failed so much that he could hardly tell when his pencil 
 touched the paper. This made his work appear blurred 
 and the manipulation quite wanting in precision and 
 firmness. The drawing of his figures, or of any other 
 definite objects, was loose and inaccurate. Feebleness 
 was manifest in all he did, and he felt that he should 
 not long be able to paint, even for occupation and 
 amusement. Still he continued to make efibrts, and 
 took up some of his old sketches to finish for the ex- 
 hibition of 1857. The author remembers well the 
 " council " held on this occasion, to discuss what sub- 
 jects should be determined on. The fine sketch of 
 " Gordal Scar " had long remained in Cox's portfolio in 
 the state he left it in when it was first made ; every one 
 M 2 
 
180 BAVID COX. 
 
 admired it ; Cox himself had always thought well of it ; 
 but still he had never completed or used it. But now 
 he was persuaded to take the sketch up and finish it, 
 for the coming exhibition, and it was one of his most 
 important contributions of that year. His final visit 
 to London, to see his son, and take a look at the Royal 
 Academy and Water-Colour exhibitions, was made at 
 the beginning of the summer of 1867. Whilst there 
 he was seized with an illness which compelled him to 
 seek medical assistance, but he recovered suflSciently in 
 a short time to be able to return home, and ere long set 
 to work again with renewed spirit. He even meditated 
 another journey into Wales, but the weather proving 
 unfavourable, he gave up the idea, consoling himself 
 for the disappointment by buckling to work with a 
 spurt of energy that carried him through the labour of 
 producing several oil pictures, and a number of draw- 
 ings for the exhibition of 1858. These latter contri- 
 butions to the Pall Mall Gallery were much admired, 
 but of course they were not entirely the productions of 
 his last days. Probably the finishing touches only were 
 given to them during the few preceding months. 
 
 Cox did not stir from home throughout the year 1858, 
 except for short walks in the neighbourhood of Har- 
 bome, or an occasional stroll into Bu'mingham to see 
 friends, or do little marketings for the sake of doing 
 something. Towards Christmas he was again very 
 unwell. He had taken a severe cold, and it was pain- 
 fully apparent to his friends and those about him that 
 the end of his life was fast approaching. He daily 
 
LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 181 
 
 became more feeble and infirm, and often had extreme 
 difficulty in Holding up until bedtime. He complained 
 frequently of pain in his limbs, and towards ten- o'clock 
 in the evening would say, " Oh, my poor legs ! how 
 they do ache ! I should like to go to bed." It was 
 then time for those who had called to see him to take 
 their departure, which they usually did forthwith, sorry 
 to see their old friend so distressed. , LBut he never 
 showed displeasure if they lingered' a if ew moments to 
 say a parting word after the hint had been given. His 
 kindness of heart did not desert him, although weary 
 and worn out. He was to the last a gentleman. 
 
 The year 1859 opened with gloom. for, Cox and for 
 his household. His iUness increased in severity, and 
 through the entire month of January his life was in 
 danger. But again he recovered, and was able in a 
 few weeks to come down-stairs, and resume his customary 
 occupation. Again he completed a number of drawings 
 for the exhibition of that year, but, sad to say, they 
 were the last he was ever to send. He caught another 
 cold soon after he had dispatched them to London, 
 which left him weaker than before, and although for a 
 short time he became better, still the improvement did 
 not last long. At the beginning of June, he was once 
 more prostrate. Before taking to his bed, and on 
 retiring one evening earlier than usual, quite worn out 
 with pain and weariness, he seems to have had a pre- 
 sentiment that his end was at hand, for on looking 
 round his old sitting-room, as he went out at the door, 
 he said, mournfully, " Good-bye, pictures ! " He never 
 
182 DAVID COX. 
 
 saw ttem again. In a few days he became decidedly 
 worse, and on the 7th of the month, in the 77th year 
 of his age, he expired quite tranquilly, in the presence 
 of his son and the sorrowing members of his household. 
 His last words were, " God bless you all ! " 
 
 On the i4th of June, seven days after his death, a 
 large number of friends and neighbours assembled at and 
 near Grreenfield House, to follow the great artist to his 
 grave in Harbome Churchyard. A deep gloom seemed 
 to overshadow all present. The day was fine, but the 
 sun had lost its cheering influence, and shone iu vain. 
 It coidd not smile away the sadness that was in every 
 heart. Friends — attached friends — who had often 
 visited at that house, and always with delight, felt that 
 they had entered it for the last time ; and poor neigh- 
 bours, who stood about the gate and in the road, silent 
 but sorrowing spectators of the scene, knew that death 
 had taken from them one who had always been kind to 
 them in affliction, and helpful in their needs. As the 
 melancholy procession passed along on its way to the 
 grave, many a sigh was heaved, and many an apron 
 was lifted to the eyes, in the cottage-homes of those 
 who for years had known and respected their old neigh- 
 bour and friend David Cox. 
 
 The gentlemen who bore up the paU were the 
 deceased's intimate friends, one or two among his oldest 
 and most attached associates — Messrs. Roberts and 
 Birch, Darby and EUis, Bullock and Betts, Hollings- 
 worth, and the author of this Memoir. Mr. Frederick 
 Tayler, President of the Old Water-Colour Society, 
 
miNEBAL AT EABBORNE. 183 
 
 deputed to represent that body, and Mr. Peter Hollins, 
 Vice-President of the Birmingham Society of Artists, 
 with many of its members, besides a large gathering of 
 friends and admirers of David Oox, followed in procession 
 to the grave. Mrs. Cox had been buried in Harbome 
 Churchyard fourteen years before, and in the same 
 grave were reverently and lovingly laid the remains of 
 him who now was borne to mingle his dust with hers. 
 They sleep together under the branches of a noble 
 spreading tree, that flecks the grey stone with shade, 
 and keeps the bordering greensward fresh and fair. 
 
 That David Cox, as a man, was esteemed and 
 beloved by all who knew him intimately, the sur- 
 viving friends who still mourn his loss can abundantly 
 testify. He was kind to such as stood in need of 
 assistance, especially to those who dwelt in his imme- 
 diate neighbourhood. He was very kind to his servants, 
 and in every way considerate of their comfort ; and, in 
 return, they were at all times ready to wait on him hand 
 and foot. He gave them many little drawings as 
 keepsakes, which they treasured long, as memorials of 
 their dear old master. To Ann Powler, once his 
 servant, but latterly his housekeeper, who had lived 
 with him from a girl, he bequeathed the sum of £500, 
 and left her in the care of his son, to be watched over 
 by him in her old age. To all his friends he was espe- 
 cially kind; was ever delighted to see them under his 
 roof, to drink tea with him when he had finished work 
 for the day, or to partake of a simple supper. He made 
 many presents of drawings to them, which were highly 
 
184 DArin cox. 
 
 valued, alike for their merit and their association. His 
 young lady friends, in particular, shared his bounty to 
 a large extent, their scrap-books being enriched by 
 frequent contributions from his pencil. In fact, he 
 appears to have scattered these gifts broadcast among 
 such as were kind to him, and for whom he enter- 
 tained feelings of affectionate regard. To one or two 
 old friends he bequeathed drawings of importance and 
 value. To the curate of Harborne Church, who had 
 been very attentive to Mrs. Cox in her last illness, he 
 presented a beautiful drawing of Bolton Abbey. It 
 is now the property of Mr. Greorge Graham, of Bir- 
 mingham. To his medical attendants, who frequently 
 visited him when unwell, and to whom he felt grateful 
 for relief afforded him, he gave a number of his pro- 
 ductions, which he insisted on their accepting. To 
 all his artist friends he was very communicative and 
 very kind. He had no professional secrets, no pro- 
 fessional jealousy, and gladly told them all he knew- 
 He gave them valuable advice as to the treatment 
 of their works in hand, and showed them how to mix 
 their tints, or helped them over a difficult part. He 
 has been known, when at Bettws, to half-complete a 
 picture by some amateur or young artist who could 
 not master the difficulties of his task. Many and warm 
 were the words of encouragement he gave to such as 
 did well. " Paint away ! " he has said. " Stick to it ! 
 you'll do ! How nicely you have painted those trees ! 
 How did you make the colour? / could not have 
 painted them so well ! " And he has praised the 
 
HIS KINDLY FEELING. 185 
 
 young artist in no measured terms to all he encoun- 
 tered. By very many kind acts and words of a similar 
 description did David Cox win the esteem and affec- 
 tion of brother artists with whom he came in contact. 
 Palling in, one day, at Bettws, with a young aspirant 
 for fame who was but slightly known to him, and who 
 appeared to have been working most industriously, and 
 was regretting that he was compelled to return home 
 sooner than he wished, it occurred to Cox that it 
 might be owing to the young man's means falling 
 short that he was obliged to leave forthwith. Accord- 
 ingly an opportunity was found for ascertaining the 
 fact, and Cox intimated that if such were the case 
 he should be happy to advance a little money, to 
 enable one who had worked so well to make a few 
 more sketches from nature. Whether the kind offer 
 was accepted the author knows not ; but doubtless 
 David Cox's consideration and kindly feeling left on the 
 young artist's mind an impression that was not readily 
 effaced; and should he be living now, and have at- 
 tained to eminence in his profession, he will not fail 
 to cherish pleasant recollections of the veteran " brother 
 of the brush," who stepped forward to aid him at the 
 early period of his career. To an artist friend who 
 wished to buy one of his small pictures, and who tendered 
 the usual price for a work of the size, he insisted 
 on returning a sovereign, saying, "the sum was too 
 much for so small a picture." On the friend objecting 
 to receive the money. Cox thrust it forcibly into his 
 waistcoat pocket, saying, " If you are too pi'oud to take 
 
186 DAVII) COX. 
 
 it for yourself, give it to your little son as a fairing- 
 present from me [it was then fair-time in Birmingliam], 
 and tell Mm to go and see the wild-beast show, and I 
 hope he wiU enjoy it." To the poor people who 
 resided near him (as has been said) he was exceedingly 
 kind, particularly if they were sick or out of employ- 
 ment, and frequently gave them benefactions to reheve 
 their necessities. The minister of his church has told 
 me that when visiting the sick poor of the parish he 
 has often discovered, to his surprise, that Mr. Cox 
 had preceded him, and had left behind tokens of com- 
 miseration and sympathy much needed and grate- 
 fully received. No wonder that he was endeared to 
 many, and that his death was felt to be a great mis- 
 fortune by all who knew him. 
 
 David Cox, although not what some would term an 
 " eminently pious " man, was a devout- Churchman, and 
 always evinced great respect for religious observances, 
 and, if the weather were not too unf avom-able, made it 
 a point of duty to attend church on the Sabbath, at 
 home or abroad. When at Bettws, if the service were 
 in Welsh (as was sometimes the case), he would bespeak 
 a vehicle to take him to Llanrwst, a distance of four 
 miles ; and the author has more than once accompanied 
 him there. On those occasions he was grave and 
 serious, and appeared to have laid aside for the day all 
 light thoughts and professional considerations. He 
 never, whilst the author was acquainted with him, 
 painted on Sundays, as some artists are in the habit of 
 doing ; but, if confined to the house by indisposition or 
 
BIS RELIGIOUS CSABACTBB. 187 
 
 bad weather, devoted some portion of the day to reading 
 the Prayer-book and the Bible. The writer used fre- 
 quently to visit him on Sunday evenings, during the 
 last years of his life ; and these visits were looked for as 
 a customary thing, unless the weather were too bad for 
 a walk. In that case, and if he thought no friends 
 were Hkely to drop in, he would take down the large 
 Bible, and devote the evening to a serious, attentive 
 perusal of its contents. Occasionally the well-known 
 knock at the door has disturbed him in the midst 
 of his reading, when the spectacles were put down, 
 and the Bible laid aside, with a marker carefully 
 placed between the leaves, to show him where he 
 had left ofE. Nearly every Sunday morning when 
 at home, as regularly as the day came round, his 
 venerable grey head might have been seen above 
 the top of his pew in Harbome Church, devoutly 
 bent in prayer, or gazing attentively at the preacher, 
 whose words imparted comfort and consolation. Not 
 many of the worshippers who beheld him in his accus- 
 tomed place looked upon him as the man of genius, 
 whose name and fame in a few short years would be 
 blazoned, from end to end of the land of his birth. He 
 was familiar to them only as homely, unpretending Mr. 
 Cox, their much-respected friend and neighbour, who 
 earned his living by painting pictures which some 
 people said were not destitute of merit. The day of his 
 renown was not there nor then ; nor did his coming in 
 or going out attract unusual notice. He went his way 
 between the graves of the old churchyard, among which 
 
188 BATID COX. 
 
 he was one day to rest, as an ordinary member of the 
 congregation, and no one dreamt of looking after him 
 to see what manner of man he was. He is seen no 
 more in the old church; his place has long since been 
 occupied by another; but, although departed, he is 
 not forgotten. The Sabbath sun shines in through a 
 beautiful window, which loAdng friends have erected 
 there as a memorial of him; and when the eyes of 
 those assembled within the sacred temple gaze upon its 
 harmonious colours and fine design, the old man who 
 was once their feUow-worshipper is recalled to memory. 
 The following description of this window is extracted 
 from T/ie Birmingham Daily Post of April 1st, 1874 : — 
 
 It was a happy thought which prompted the placing of a stained 
 glass window in the parish church of Harbome, as a memorial to the 
 genius of our great water-colour painter, David Cox Passing the 
 later years of his life at Harbome, and that, too, in close proximity 
 to the old church, this artist has simply lifted this neighbourhood out 
 of the dull level of villa suburbanism ; and for this alone even Har- 
 bome should show some gratitude. The good intentions of those who 
 pleasingly recognised this claim have been greatly promoted by 
 Messrs. Hardman and Co., of this town, to whom the commission to 
 execute the memorial window was entrusted. The strong love of 
 nature, the looking through nature up to nature's God, is the simple 
 object portrayed, and how successfully this has been done a mere 
 glance at the window, now completed, f uUy proves. The centre of 
 the window contains within a circle, which is banded in its upper 
 part by a rainbow, the scene of the Creation, in which Adam views 
 the marvellous works of nature in the infinite varieties of Hfe revealed 
 to him. In the upper half of the window appear two vesica-shaped 
 spaces, in which " Spring " and " Summer" are respectively painted, 
 the former flinging blossoms to the earth, whilst the latter is seated 
 amidst a luxuriant growth of flowers. Corresponding to these are 
 " Autumn," with her wreath of ripe corn and fruits, and " Winter," 
 
MEMORIAL WINDOW AT HABBOBNR 189 
 
 whose darkly-wrapped figure stands well out against the bare branches 
 and snow-mantled ground. Bands, which surround and interlace the 
 whole of the design, bear texts from the Psalms, bearing upon the 
 subject of the glory of God, as exemplified in the works of nature. 
 It is scarcely too much to say that this window is one of the most 
 successful works which Messrs. Hardman have executed. To Mr. 
 John Powell, who has in this paid a tribute to the genius of a great 
 artist, the design of the memorial is due. 
 
 Beneath the window is the following inscription : — 
 
 To the Glory of God, and in Memory of David Cox, Artist, 
 this Window was erected by a few Friends, A.D. 1874. 
 
CHAPTEE XV, 
 
 Cox's dxaracteristics as a Man — Interior of His House — Dress and Appearance. 
 
 The simplicity of the life and character of David 
 Cox was as remarkable as anything by which he was 
 distinguished. There was nothing about him that 
 might be called showy, in person, manner, or sur- 
 roundings. In all his ways he was artless and simple 
 as a child. In person he was ever scrupulously clean 
 and neat ; in dress plain and unpretending. When at 
 home he generally wore a grey suit, resembling his 
 sketching-costume ; and when he went out, to dine with 
 a friend, or to make calls in town, he put on a black 
 frock-coat, black velvet waistcoat (except in the height 
 of summer, when he wore a light and thinner one), and 
 grey trousers ; it is this dress which figures in the por- 
 trait of him by Sir J. W. Gordon. He invariably wore 
 shoes, for ease and comfort, during the time the author 
 was acquainted with him. His house was plainly fur- 
 nished. In his usual sitting-room were a carved oak 
 sideboard and a sofa, but nothing luxurious or meant for 
 display. There were no lounging-chairs, or anything to 
 suggest effeminacy, or a love of present ease and 
 indulgence. To the day of his death he never would 
 have any but cane-seated chairs, such as are used in bed- 
 rooms, but rarely in living apartments ; and these were 
 
HIS HOUSB: A STRANGE OFFER. 191 
 
 not cushioned, and were felt by h.is friends to be ratber 
 hard and rigid, especially after a long walk. There has 
 been a story told of some person — a dealer in antique 
 furniture, known to Cox — who calling one day upon him, 
 affected to be much shocked at the uncomfortable char- 
 acter of these chairs, and proposed to lend for his 
 use half a dozen old carved chairs, which he described as 
 being artistic, and very fine things of their kind, having 
 soft crimson velvet cushions, very elegant to look at, and 
 particularly comfortable for an elderly person to sit or 
 recline in. The manner in which the loan is said to 
 have been proposed was rather calculated to shake the 
 nerves and disturb the serenity of Cox. " Dear me ! " 
 said this visitor, " how uncomfortable it must be for you 
 to sit always on these hard cane-seated chairs ! I feel 
 quite sorry for you. Do allow me to lend you some 
 fine old carved chairs — very fine chairs indeed — at least 
 two hundred years old ! They have a coat-of-arms at 
 the backs beautifully carved, and must have belonged 
 to one of the old nobility. They would be quite in 
 character in an artist's room ; you would find them 
 extremely comfortable ; and I would charge you 
 nothing for the use of them. You should keep them 
 as long as you live. Then," after a pause, and with a 
 smile intended to be insinuating, " I suppose after your 
 death there will be a sale here, Mr. Cox, and then my 
 chairs, from having been in the possession of such an 
 eminent artist, will sell for three times as much as they 
 would now. Let me send them up at once." "No, 
 thank you, sir," replied Cox. " I am very much obliged. 
 
192 DAVID GOX. 
 
 but cannot avail myself of your kind offer. I am accus- 
 tomed to my own chairs, and should not feel so 
 comfortable in any other. Besides, it would make me 
 quite wretched, when I am sitting alone in the gloom 
 of the evening, to look round on your dark funereal 
 chairs, upon which, for aught I know to the contrary, 
 hundreds of dead people may have sat from first to last, 
 and think they are all anxiously waiting for my death to 
 become three times as valuable as they are now ! No, 
 thank you ! I could not endure the thought ! I won't 
 discard my old chairs. They will do quite well ' enough 
 for me." So the ingenious furniture-dealer departed, 
 baffled in a fine stroke of business. 
 
 The sitting-room walls were adorned with a few 
 pictures in oil, chiefly Cox's own works, in an unfinished 
 state ; but over the sofa hung a masterly sketch by 
 MiiUer, for which Cox had great admiration, and for 
 which he had given in exchange one of the largest and 
 best of his own works in oil, " The Vale of Clwyd," 
 exhibited in the Liverpool Academy at 80 guineas, but 
 returned to the artist unsold. This is now the property 
 of a London collector, Mr. de Murietta, who paid 
 2,000 guineas for it. Over the sideboard hung for some 
 time, untn it was finished and sold, a most brilliant and 
 effective sketch in oil of Bettws Church. The trans- 
 parent, lovely colour, and free, spirited handling of this 
 work were most charming. It ought never to have 
 been touched again ; but an old esteemed friend of Cox 
 desired the artist to " finish" it for him, and agreed to 
 pay £100 for it when completed. This was done 
 
PICTURES IN EI8 SITTING-BOOM. 193 
 
 shortly before Cox's death. ; but much of the trans- 
 parency and beautiful colour of the work disappeared in 
 the process of finishing, and the masterly manipulation 
 had given place to the feeble, unsteady, halting touch 
 of the painter's latter days. The author will never 
 forget his feeling of dismay when he first caught sight 
 of the "finished" work. But Cox received £100 for 
 the completed picture, to him a large and tempting 
 price, the largest ever paid him for any one production. 
 In a corner of the room, near the door, and looking Hke 
 a duplicate David Cox, hung, during the last years of 
 his life, the portrait by Sir Watson Grordon. It was so 
 like the man that a stranger might almost have been 
 excused for mistaking it, at first sight, when entering 
 the room, for the artist himself. These were the chief 
 decorations of the parlour in which Cox usually sat ; a 
 few pictures of lesser consequence hanging beside and 
 between them. A fine large sketch of Conway Bay and 
 Castle took the place of the Bettws Church picture, 
 when the latter was removed. In the small room on 
 the opposite side of the entrance hall, called the break- 
 fast room, hung a large early drawing of Cader Idris, 
 somewhat hard and precise, but nevertheless a fine work. 
 This Cox bequeathed to his old friend and executor, 
 Mr. W. L. Ellis, racing this drawing was a full- 
 length, life-size portrait of a Persian prince, said to 
 have been painted by Briggs, B.A. It was a well- 
 executed picture, good in colour, and very effective. 
 Cox liked it much. Besides these there were several 
 smaller works of merit, by Miiller, Blacklock, Lee, E.A., 
 
 N 
 
194 BAVIB COX. 
 
 and others. The painting- room was of the plainest and 
 most unpretending character. It was approached 
 through the kitchen (always beautifully clean and in 
 order) by a narrow flight of stairs, and must at one time 
 have been a servants' bedroom. It was converted into 
 a painting-room by the introduction of a skylight in 
 the roof, besides having a window at the side, with a 
 northern aspect, to be used if required. This room 
 was carpeted with some plain material, and had several 
 tables in it, on which lay coloui-s and brushes, with 
 numbers of sketches and unfinished works in oil and 
 water. On one side was a sort of cupboard over the 
 stairs, having a curtain before it, and in which were 
 stacked unsold drawings on boards, patiently waiting 
 for purchasers. Large portfolios of drawings, finished 
 and unfinished, stood against the walls ; and the easel 
 was planted towards the end of the room, so as to 
 enable the artist to retire a few paces to observe the 
 effect of his work. There were no "curios" or knick- 
 knacks lying about, no rare old china, no armour, no 
 statuary, no antique vases, no fine bronzes — nothing what- 
 ever that savoured of Wardour Street and the curiosity 
 shops. For such things, as furniture for his painting- 
 room, David Cox had no relish. He loved nothing 
 resembling display, and all about him was of the 
 simplest character. He felt that the possession of such 
 things, as seen in the studios of many artists, was not at 
 all necessary to the production of fine landscapes ; and 
 lie could derive such inspiration as was needful to him 
 from the contemplation of bare walls. His painting- 
 
HIS PAINTING-BOOM. 195 
 
 room — ib was too unpretending to be called a studio — 
 was only a sort of workshop, in which he laboured day 
 after day in the production of works of art. "With 
 what success he laboured the world now knows. The 
 world knows also that he was a highly-skilled craftsman, 
 notwithstanding its earlier want of appreciation, and 
 notwithstanding his own occasional misgivings as to his 
 powers. When failing to execute a given passage in 
 some picture to his complete satisfaction, he has been 
 heard to say, half in jest and half in earnest, throwing 
 down his brush in a flurry, " Oh, dear ! painting is 
 a most difficult trade. I shall never have done 
 learning it." 
 
 It has been said before that Cox cared nothing for 
 luxurious living ; he was, in fact, as simple in this 
 matter as in everything else. Plain diet suited him 
 best, and he liked it best. During the latter years of 
 his life, he invariably tobk for supper a basin of boiled 
 milk, and seemed greatly to enjoy it. The author calls 
 to mind how exceedingly annoyed he was on one oc- 
 casion, when staying at the Eoyal Hotel, Edinburgh. 
 A waiter came into the room, and requested an order 
 for dinner, intimating in an unmistakable manner that 
 a simple plain repast would not be tolerated in that 
 estabhshment, but that a regular hotel dinner, of the 
 usual number of courses, must be ordered, or no atten- 
 tion would be paid to himself and friends ; and such a 
 dinner, after much demurring and show of resistance, 
 was at length ordered to be prepared, although the old 
 man would have been better pleased with a simple chop, 
 N 2 
 
196 DAVID GOX. 
 
 could he have had it at once, and without ceremony; 
 and so, indeed would have been his companions. The 
 dinner, when it came, was good enough, and the waiters 
 were attentive to him ; but poor Cox appeared con- 
 strained and uncomfortable, and did not enjoy his 
 repast half as much as he would have done at home 
 from a boUed neck of mutton (a favourite dish with 
 him), some well-cooked potatoes, and a bit of his own 
 sweet home-baked bread, washed down with a glass of 
 bitter beer. He had as great a reputation for his 
 home-baked bread as he had for his pictures. He was 
 proud of this admiration for his bread, and used, with 
 great delight, to recount evidences of it. 
 
 David Cox was a sociable, companionable man, by 
 no means shy or reserved in manner. Without being 
 at all what is understood as a talker, or aiming at 
 conversation, he was " chatty " and agreeable, always 
 showing the nice feeling of a gentleman. He was 
 ever a welcome guest at the tables of his friends and 
 patrons ; and many a pleasant little dinner-party has 
 been made up of artist-acquaintances, art lovers, and 
 collectors, when Mr. Cox was expected to honour a 
 friend with his company. Very delightful were those 
 intimate parties, with the interesting chats about art, 
 artists, and aU the picture news of the day. Each host 
 had his collection, large or small, of pictorial treasures, 
 including some of the choicest works of the eminent 
 guest ; and it was gratifying to Cox to observe his 
 productions hanging in prominent positions on the 
 walls, and to find that they so bravely held their own 
 
CEEEBFULNE88 IN SOCIETY. 197 
 
 among masterpieces by men who were then more 
 famous than himself. It was a pleasure also to him to 
 receive from those present — ^whose opinions he knew 
 were based on knowledge and good taste — congratula- 
 tions on his happy delineations of some of nature's most 
 enchanting features. On returning home from such 
 gatherings, sometimes charged with commissions for 
 new pictures, and with well-merited commendations 
 ringing in his ears, he has retired to rest with the 
 declared, resolution to produce something on the morrow 
 that should outdo his previous achievements, and sur- 
 prise the most enthusiastic of his friends. On these 
 occasions, David Cox was always the guest of the day. 
 He was made much of; treated with the most loving 
 regard; all were studious of his comfort and conveni- 
 ence. And surely he was deserving of the utmost 
 consideration — so gifted, so artless, so full of child-like 
 simplicity, so unpretending, natural, and kind! A 
 little hasty and impetuous sometimes in his temper — 
 now and then when offended, he could say sharp things ; 
 but his heat was soon over, and all the native kindli- 
 ness of his disposition soon shone out again. 
 
 When in good health and spii'its. Cox was full of, 
 life and humour, and brimming over with small jokes. 
 Many a time has he made his friends laugh at the 
 smart things he has said and done. His humour and 
 frolicsomeness were occasionally most amusing. His 
 old and attached friend, Mr. Charles W. Eadclyffe, has 
 related that in his earlier days, when Cox was on a visit 
 to Mr. "William Eadclyffe, the engraver of many of his 
 
198 DAVID COX. 
 
 works, and father of the narrator of the anecdote, the 
 two would sometimes go to spend an evening with a 
 brother artist — Mr. J. V. Barber, at that time resident 
 in Birmingham — and they would not unfrequently stay 
 chatting until a late hour. On one of these visits the 
 clock had struck twelve, midnight, before they bade 
 adieu to their host. Drawing near the residence of his 
 friend in George Street, Edgbaston, Cox (to quote the 
 words of the narrator) "would lay hold of the old 
 watchman — ^for it was in the days of 'the Charlies ' — 
 and make him shout under my mother's window, 
 ' Half-past ten o'clock ! ' Then Cox would cry out in 
 wild surprise, ' What ? half-past ten ? Nonsense ! it 
 cannot be so late ! ' Some one was sitting up for 
 them ; for there were no latchkeys in those days." 
 
 Some years ago a picture was exhibited at the 
 Eoyal Academy, painted by Turner, the subject and 
 treatment of which were very extraordinary. It was 
 entitled the " Casting of the Iron Duke," and was so 
 peculiar in many respects that great fun was made of 
 it in the comic papers of the day. It represented the 
 interior of a foundry. A considerable portion of the 
 subject was kept dim and obscure, and against the 
 walls, looming through the dusk, huge cogged wheels, 
 bars of iron, and rusty fragments of old castings were 
 reared on either side. At the far end was a blaze of 
 fire-light, redolent of the most brilliant hues — red, 
 yellow, and orange; surrounding which (if the author 
 can rely on his memory after the lapse^ of so long a 
 pei'iod) workmen were seen manipulating " the Duke," 
 
HIS QUIET HUMOUB. 199 
 
 who, seated on horseback, with cocked hat and feather, 
 and looking at the distance very small, and very like a 
 child's Christmas toy, was beheld in midst of the ruddy 
 .glow as though he were being roasted alive. Turner, 
 not satisfied with the dazzling effect obtained by 
 surrounding the blazing fire with broad masses of 
 shadow on the walls and roof of the foundry, had 
 determined to make the glow and glare still more 
 effective by opposition of colour, lie could conceive 
 nothing that would naturally be seen in the place to 
 answer the desired purpose ; and so he introduced, in 
 the immediate front of his picture, stretching from 
 side to side, a row of cut cabbages of the greenest 
 possible hue. These cabbages were a great puzzle to 
 many visitors to the exhibition. Cox was in the 
 Academy one day, looking at this picture, and greatly 
 amused at Turner's ingenious device, when a gentleman 
 and lady came up, and stood some time in contempla- 
 tion of the singular work. At length the lady ex- 
 claimed aloud to her companion, " Whatever are they 
 going to do with those cabbages ? " Cox turned round 
 to the lady, he made a polite bow, and gravely replied, 
 " Boil them, madam ! " 
 
 A friend of his, a clergyman residing in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Birmingham, was in possession of a picture 
 which had been bequeathed to him, and was considered 
 extremely valuable. It was believed to be a genuine 
 work by Gaspar Poussin. The owner submitted the 
 work to his friend Cox for an opinion as to its authen- 
 ticity. " Mr. Cox," said he, " I know that you are a 
 
200 DAVID COX. 
 
 very good judge of art, ancient or modern, and I tave 
 heard you say that you have greatly admired, and also 
 copied, the landscapes of Gaspar Poussin. "Will you 
 kindly examine the picture I have brought with me, 
 and teU me if you think it a genuine work of that 
 painter? I have been told that it is worth a very 
 considerable sum." Cox took the picture in his hands, 
 and at a glance saw that it was a worthless copy. 
 Putting it quietly down on the floor, he said, "Mr. 
 
 A , Gaspar Poussin was a great artist — a very 
 
 great artist, indeed — a much better artist than I am, 
 or ever shall be ; and I should be ashamed of that 
 ihing." The valuable work of art was taken back. 
 
 On another occasion a picture was submitted to Cox 
 for his opinion, by a person who was doubtftd as to the 
 painter. " Mr. Cox," he said, " wiU you oblige me by 
 looking at this fine work, and say, if you are able, who 
 was the master that painted it ? " " Sir," replied Cox, 
 just glancing at the wretched production, "1 am of 
 opinion that the painter of that picture never was a 
 master ! " 
 
 Cox was often pestered by people taking very in- 
 diiFerent pictures to him for his opinion as to the painter 
 or the merits of them, but he contrived to keep his 
 temper, although he lost his time, and was never 
 tempted to be angry or uncivil. Once a picture was 
 submitted to him, as being the production of an artist 
 of eminence, and he was requested to say what he 
 thought of its merits. He looked at it a moment 
 and inquired, with a twinkle in his eye, " Did you teU 
 
SIS CAUTION IN MONEY MATTERS. 201 
 
 me this picture was painted by Miiller ? " " Oli, yes ! 
 Mr. Cox. It is undoubtedly by Mm! but an early 
 work of that master, sir ; perhaps a very early work ! " 
 " Yes," replied Cox, glancing- again at the puerile per- 
 formance, " so early, sir, that Miiller must have been a 
 little girl when he painted it ! " 
 
 In matters of business Cox liked everything done 
 in a proper business-like manner, and if aU did not go 
 on as smoothly and straightforwardly as could be 
 desired, he became nervous, fidgety, -and annoyed. For 
 many years he had been accustomed to invest his 
 savings in the Funds, and although the interest was 
 low, he knew that his money was safe, and had no 
 anxiety lest he should lose it. One day he happened to 
 mention to a commercial friend of high repute, that he 
 was about to invest another sum in the Funds, as be- 
 fore, to make his income a little better, when he was 
 strongly urged to place the amount in something that 
 would yield a larger return, and was recommended to 
 purchase shares in a newly-projected business to be 
 established near Birmingham, which promised to be a 
 profitable speculation. So much was said in favour of 
 this investment by his friend, that Cox decided to take 
 the course pointed out, and after some correspondence 
 with the officials of the concern, dispatched his money 
 by letter to make the purchase. He expected that his 
 remittance would have been acknowledged by return of 
 post, but day after day passed by, and no acknowledg- 
 ment came to hand. He thought this omission was a 
 very bad beginning, and indicated careless, unbusiness- 
 
202 BAVID COX. 
 
 like conduct on tlie part of tlie management. He soon 
 became alarmed for the safety of his money. He could 
 not enjo}'^ bis meals, or sleep at night, or work at his 
 pictures with any pleasure. He said to himself, " This 
 will not do for me. I must get my money back, and 
 place it in the Funds, as I have been accustomed to 
 do." Accordingly he applied for his money, and insisted 
 on having it returned. The manager pleaded an " over- 
 sight ; " but no, it would not do. The money must be 
 returned ; and after a Httle parleying it was returned, 
 to get rid of Cox and his importunity. " Now," said 
 the artist, "it shall go into the Funds, and there it 
 shall remain ! With a safe three per cent., I shall be 
 able to paint again with peace of mind." Cox was 
 rather careful of his money, and could not endure the 
 thought of its security being jeopardised in any way. 
 It has been said by some that he was fond of money, 
 and did not like to part with it. If this were so, the 
 habit of taking care of it doubtless originated in early 
 days, at a time when he found it a difficult matter to 
 scrape a few pounds together, and when it was essential 
 to husband his small earnings against a " rainy day." 
 But he was very far from being miserly or mean ; and 
 if he occasionally preferred to discharge an obhgation 
 by giving a small picture instead of parting with his 
 cash, those to whom he was indebted were only too 
 glad to be paid in that manner. And none of them 
 ever discovered that they were losers in the end. It is 
 a fact that some of these pictures, so willingly taken in 
 payment for inconsiderable amounts, have, since Cox's 
 
EI8 POLITICAL OPINIONS. 203 
 
 death., been sold for large sums. One of them — valued 
 by the artist at not more than five or six pounds — has, 
 to the author's knowledge, been purchased by an eminent 
 connoisseur for something near two hundred pounds. 
 Possibly those of Cox's friends who had trifling claims 
 against him, and who could look a little further than 
 others into the future time, would most decidedly have 
 declined payment in any other way, could they with 
 decency have spoken what was uppermost in their 
 thoughts. 
 
 David Cox was not much addicted to reading mis- 
 cellaneous literature. He had no library of books. He 
 had no need to refer to the works of any author for sub- 
 jects for his pictures. The Book of Nature was all- 
 sufficient for him. His " study " was out of doors, on 
 the mountains, or in the fields ; and of these, it must be 
 confessed, he was ever observant, ever thoughtful, ever 
 assiduous student. When desirous of knowing what 
 was going on in the world, he turned to the newspaper 
 for information, and being a Liberal in politics, The 
 Examiner, then edited by Fonblanque, was his favourite 
 paper, which for many years he took in. He was by no 
 means a demonstrative politician — at least not during 
 the author's intimacy with him ; although it is said that 
 earlier in life he did not shrink from giving free expres- 
 sion to his convictions, and, when residing at Hereford, 
 actually joined a committee to arrange for a public 
 reception of Joseph Hume, the Eeformer. Latterly 
 he never obtruded his political opinions in any society. 
 His kindness of heart and consideration for the feelings 
 
204 DAVID OOX. 
 
 of others probably rendered bim disinclined to enter into 
 a dispute that might give offence or lead to unpleasant 
 consequences from the use of harsh words and an 
 ebullition of temper ; but it was not difficult to discern 
 at any time in what direction his opioions lay, and that 
 his sympathies and convictions were with the advocacy 
 of Liberal progress. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 His Artiatic Characteristics and Distinguishiiig Merits. 
 
 The distinguisHng merits of David Cox as an artist 
 ought by this time to be well understood by all who 
 profess an acquaintance with the British School o£ 
 landscape painters. In the expression of the qualities 
 of light, space, and air he wiU almost rank with the 
 mightiest of England's landscape artists — with even 
 Turner himself. In rendering the every-day aspects of 
 Nature, as we are accustomed to see them in our daily 
 walks, he surpassed Turner. ■ In colour, treatment, and 
 effect his works are more natural than those of Turner ; 
 more faithful as transcripts of picturesque scenery. 
 They are far more English than his ; less idealised, never 
 lifted from earth into fairy-land. They are "racy of 
 the soil." There is a home-like look and feeling about 
 them ; a simple, honest truthfulness ; a familiar charm 
 that wins our affections. Cox's perception of the 
 beautiful in Nature was keen and far-seeing, but he 
 aimed only to record that which he saw was good, and 
 not to improve upon what was sufficiently lovely. He 
 was faithful to Nature and faithful to himself. His 
 mind and character are reflected in his works. His love 
 for Nature was most ardent; his sympathy with her 
 manifestations of beauty was all embracing ; his delight 
 
206 DAVID COX. 
 
 in his work was supreme — amounting to a passion. Of 
 the mechanism of art he thought little ; his mind ever 
 dwelt upon the effect he desired to realise. Through the 
 means he saw the end. He was a poet painter, who, in 
 the sky ahove him, and even in the weeds beneath his 
 feet, recognised charms that thrilled him with delight, 
 and whose strong desire was by every touch and tint to 
 make others feel as he felt. " Art," says Emerson, " is 
 Nature passed through the alembic of mind." Thfe 
 " fire of thought " separates that which is dross from 
 the pure metal left after the purgation. The artist's 
 mind selects, refines, exalts the beautiful features of 
 Nature, moulding the plastic substance to its will, and 
 imbuing it with something of its own spirituality ; and 
 David Cox's art is Nature passed through the mind of 
 a poet, which vibrated to every manifestation of the 
 beautiful, as the jEolian harp vibrates to all the winds of 
 heaven. 
 
 The individuality of David Cox was strongly pro- 
 nounced, and, as a consequence, his productions are 
 unlike those of any other artist. His " style," or 
 manner of recording and representing what he saw, 
 felt, and loved in nature, was peculiarly his own. The 
 conceptions he embodied in his works were born of his 
 own spirit. His originality was striking and un- 
 questionable ; and, like all original minds, he had to 
 create the taste necessary to the enjoyment of his 
 productions. His reputation, therefore, grew up slowly, 
 but it grew steadily and surely. He did not spring 
 into fame at a bound, as we sometimes behold in the 
 
QUALITIES OF HIS WORKS. 207 
 
 present day, when men comparatively unknown sud- 
 denly, by some lucky chance, rise into popularity, and 
 become famous at once. It was not until after his 
 death that his works received due appreciation, except 
 from a few discerning friends. Many of his finest 
 exhibited drawings were returned to him from the 
 exhibitions unsold, lie was paid but small sums for 
 those which were sold, compared with the prices ob- 
 tained by much inferior artists now for productions of 
 mediocre character. Still, he laboured on with a con- 
 tented mind. He lived simply, but comfortably; his 
 means were sufficient for his needs ; he loved Nature, 
 fondly, passionately ; loved his art, with all a true 
 artist's affection ; and was conscious that he possessed 
 gifts to record with a certain measure of success the 
 impressions his sensitive mind received from all that 
 was lovely and divine in the objects around him. He 
 also doubtless felt and knew, with a patient confidence, 
 that the time would come when his genius should be 
 acknowledged by the world. 
 
 EecaUing to memory productions of his skill, which 
 have left on the mind an indelible impression; re- 
 picturing their striking features, and the fascinating 
 qualities and effects by which they are characterised ; it 
 will occur to many how wonderfully varied are the skies 
 he painted ; how soft and soothing, how tender-sweet, 
 how beautifully serene, how full of summer light and 
 warmth, and gladness, are many that glow above his 
 landscapes ! Others, how vaporous, how moist, how 
 heavy with rain and tempest, how torn and shattered 
 
208 BAVJD COX. 
 
 by the wind into broken fragments of grey rack ! How 
 majestic are bis great clouds, piled like Alps above the 
 horizon, white in the blaze of noon, or golden with the 
 glow of evening ! How filmy and delicate are his 
 upper cirri, lying motionless in snowy puffs and 
 clusters, or drawn by the air in silvery threads across 
 the blue ! How grand are his mountain-ranges — near 
 or remote — fading away in the haze of distance, or 
 standing solid and steadfast, where the eye can discern 
 crag and fissure, herb and flower, clothed at the base 
 with majestic woods, and circled at the crest with mists 
 that wrap the sphntered ridges in wild wreaths of grey ! 
 What pomp in his clustering summer trees ! his ancient 
 forests — Sherwood or Arden — how solemn and how fuU 
 of mystery ! How grandly the hoary trunks bend with 
 the weight of years ! how gnarled and contorted are the 
 ancient Hmbs ! how pathetic in ruin are the leafless 
 tops, sapless and barkless, shattered by the storms of 
 bygone centuries ! how deep the repose of decay, when 
 autumn leaves cover with russet hues the buried green- 
 sward ! how fuU of stormy passion, when boisterous 
 winter gales tear through the forest glades, bend the 
 strong Hmbs, and splinter the boughs they toss upon 
 their way ! His tumbling hill-streams and gently -flowing, 
 rivers ! His pastures, so verdant and so sweet ! His 
 briary hedgerows and his turfy banks ! His weedy 
 foregrounds, so dewy and fresh ! His heathery wastes, 
 far-stretching in melancholy gloom when the sky above 
 them is wrapt in cloud, or cheerful as a garden full of 
 flowers in the sunlight ! Then, how great is his range ! 
 
NATURAL INCIDENTS INTRODUCED. 209 
 
 How diversified are his effects ! How captivating his 
 subjects and their treatment! How pure and lovely 
 his colour ! How large and grand his masses ! What 
 stillness in his repose ! What magic in his light and 
 shadow ! What expression, what poetry, in all he did ! 
 There is a pathetic interest in many of the inci- 
 dents he has introduced into his works. The poor 
 tired lamb, carried by the shepherd over the rough 
 mountain-road ; the dead ewe lying stiff on the dreary 
 moor, its innocent offspring bleating by its side ; the 
 old worn-out labourer, sunning his chilly blood upon 
 the bench beside the cottage door, or supporting his 
 tottering limbs with a staff, while he watches the 
 passing funeral, and meditates on the near approach 
 of his own end ; the little village children in deep 
 distress, with the broken pitcher at the spring. Inci- 
 dents of this character, truthful, familiar, homely, 
 are scattered through the works of David Cox. 
 Children and their pleasures always afforded him great 
 delight, and he loved to introduce them in his pictures. 
 Now they are gathering blackberries in the lanes ; now 
 flying a kite upon the common ; now listening to the 
 song of the lark. Sometimes he gives us lads fishing, 
 or bathing in the shady streams, or flinging stones 
 at an angry buU, or raising a hubbub among the 
 rooks careering round the oaks and beeches in the 
 park. Or he draws for us playful girls returning from 
 school through the lanes, plucking the wild flowers as 
 they linger on their way, or stopping to fondle the 
 kitten at the cottage door. 
 
210 DAVID COX. 
 
 David Cox, as an artist, had three striking cha- 
 racteristics, which may readily be traced in the majority 
 of his works. 
 
 First, he was a suggestive painter. He possessed 
 largely the gift of iniagination, and addressed himself, 
 in his works, to those endowed with something of that 
 faculty themselves. He was no behever in what is 
 called a close and literal imitation of Nature ; in the 
 vain endeavour to represent every tint and tone, every 
 leaf or stone, or blade of grass. He knew that the 
 labour of a twelvemonth, and the crowding of his can- 
 vas with minute details, would bring him no nearer the 
 Infinite than would the work of a day. He felt that at 
 the utmost he could do no more than suggest the endless 
 variety and fulness of Nature, and therefore contented 
 himself with a broad, general, and indicative represen- 
 tation of her features. He closed his eyes to the minute 
 particulars before him ; endeavouring to see Nature only 
 in her breadth and simplicity, and recording the vivid 
 impressions thus made on his mind. And such a seeing 
 of Nature makes a more powerful impression than when 
 the eye is distracted by a multiplicity of details and 
 minute parts. And such a rendering of Nature is more 
 gratifying, from the charms of breadth, simphcity, and 
 largeness of style, than when the subject is broken up 
 into disjointed fragments ; spotted over with little lights 
 and darks ; made to glitter with prismatic hues ; elabor- 
 ated to the full extent that keen' eyes, a steady hand, 
 and weeks of patient toil can accomplish. This broad, 
 simple, and large style was David Cox's in the maturity 
 
SUGGESTIVENE8S OF HIS PICTURES. 211 
 
 of his power. We do not require the artist in his 
 representations of Nature to do everything for us. We 
 Kke to do something ourselves, in the way of filling up, 
 from hints, indications, and suggestions he may give us 
 in his works. We prefer a little mystery somewhere 
 to feed and stimulate imagination, as well as something 
 positive and definite addressed to our sight and appeal- 
 ing to our perception of the merely literal. It will 
 frequently occur to the landscape artist, when painting 
 from Nature, how much there is in the subject before 
 him which he cannot distinctly discern ; what indefinite- 
 ness there is everywhere, not only in objects and 
 appearances remote, but in those also which are near. 
 In endeavouring to penetrate into the obscure and 
 mysterious parts of his subject, with a view to a more 
 definite comprehension of their meaning, his imaginative 
 faculty is called into activity, and creates a something 
 to fill up the void when his bodily vision is altogether 
 at fault. A streak of light, or a dot of shadow — a 
 tint or tone, or slight variation' of surface, is sufi&cient 
 to call imagination into play, and to suggest to him 
 forms, features, peculiarities, which might possibly be 
 manifest on a closer inspection, but which are unre- 
 vealed and shrouded in mystery at the standpoint from 
 which he regards the scene. And thus the scene, in 
 addition to all its real, palpable, and unmistakable 
 charms, is " rife in beauties not its own." This activity 
 of the imagination is the source of much of the plea- 
 sure the artist derives from the contemplation of Nature. 
 But upon another — seated beside him, and looking 
 2 
 
212 BAVIB COX. 
 
 upon the same objects — whose imaginative faculty is 
 feeble and iaert, the impression will be very different. 
 His delight will be small ; he wiU perceive nothing but 
 what is obvious to his bodily sense. The rest, which 
 goes to make up the fulness of Nature, will be empty ; 
 nothing will be suggested to his mind, and nothiug 
 win he, in his work, be able to suggest to others. 
 Those passages which in Nature are full of mystery, 
 will, in his rendering of her, be treated as bald, jlat, 
 and empty spaces, shown by washes of plain, unmean- 
 ing colour ; or he will crowd the void with details 
 not to be seen in Nature, and which he and the 
 unintelligent public will mistake for "finish." How 
 entirely different will be the productions of the two 
 artists ! Pew would accept them as representations of 
 the same scene. The one painter will be careful that 
 all those passages which in Nature are characterised by 
 indefiniteness and mystery, shall be so treated in his 
 work as to convey to other minds the same impressions 
 he himself received in the contemplation of her, and 
 with the same pleasurable results. The other wiU cover 
 every portion of his canvas with unmeaning brushwork, 
 in his anxiety that no part should escape the so-called 
 finish and completeness deemed essential to his style ! 
 How entirely opposite to this is the finish of a true artist 
 — such as Turner or Cox. His elaboration is always in 
 the right places — in those parts of a subject where 
 completeness should be visible : this finish is that 
 of character — of all that is essential to the perfect 
 rendering of the salient features of the subject, in form, 
 
BBEADTE AND •'FINISH." 213 
 
 colour, gradation of distance, light and shade, in grace 
 and beauty, in power, splendour, and effect. Wo one 
 could dwell more earnestly, more lovingly, than did 
 Turner on those leading points and conspicuous features 
 upon which he wished the eye to rest. He gave to 
 them, by the utmost care in elaboration, all the char- 
 acter and completeness necessary to the proper under- 
 standing and appreciation of their truthfulness and 
 beauty. But no one knew better than he when and 
 where to be indefinite and mysterious. No one could 
 be more suggestive than he was, when definite 
 elaboration would have injured his effect. No artist 
 could appeal more forcibly to the imagination than could 
 Turner, whenever he thought fit, by what he concealed, 
 or by what he merely indicated, or hinted at, or incom- 
 pletely and imperfectly delineated. Turner's " finish " 
 is most precious ; not a line, a tint, a touch could 
 be spared. The other kind of " finish," as it is 
 erroneously called, is nothing but finger-work: unin- 
 telligent, signifying nothing, devoid of character, 
 producd by dexterous mechanical movements of the 
 pencil, distributed equally over every portion of the 
 surface ; fatiguing to the eye, distracting to the mind, 
 reducing the work to one dead, soulless, uniform level. 
 
 Making due allowance for a difierence of style — for 
 a bolder and broader manner of working — David Cox 
 proceeded on exactly the same principles as did Turner 
 in carrying his pictures to completion. His finish was 
 always in the right place ; his elaboration — to the 
 extent he thought necessary, according to his way of 
 
234 DAVIJ} COX. 
 
 looking at Nature, and witli his peculiar organisation — 
 was exactly wliere it was required, and nowhere else. 
 Hence the effectiveness of his works ; hence their great 
 power to impress us, as he himself was impressed by 
 what he saw and strongly felt ; for he dwelt on those 
 features and effects which struck the blow, so to speak, 
 as he looked at Nature, and which stamped the first 
 impression of their character and beauty on his mind. 
 
 Secondly, David Cox was eminently a truthful 
 painter. He saw nature as it really appears to a 
 healthy, unsophisticated miad. Not many artists are 
 so highly favoured. Some pass a considerable portion 
 of their lives in " painting from nature," dwelling 
 perhaps amid beautiful scenery, possessed of fair ability, 
 having the requisite knowledge of the principles and 
 resources of their art; yet the result of their labours, 
 as regards the truthful resemblance of what they 
 attempt to portray, is a failure. They do not see 
 Nature as she is. We are not carried out of doors, as 
 it were, among the fields and woods and mountains, 
 when we look upon their works. There is neither fresh 
 air nor pure colour in them. Such men as these sit 
 down before Nature, not to represent faithfully that 
 which she is, for they do not, or will not, see her as 
 she is; but to produce something which shall be in 
 accordance with a preconceived notion of effect, or 
 possibly -some favourite scheme of colour, or mode of 
 accomphshing results, which they adapt to the subject. 
 The consequence is a striking unreality. Special 
 qualities of organisation, in some instances, physical or 
 
HIS FEBOEPTION OF COLOUR. 215 
 
 mental, in a marked degree determine tlie character of 
 the work. An artist shall be born with what is 
 termed a "grey eye." When he looks at nature, he 
 sees little but what is grey to him. The greyness 
 predominates in every object. The consequence is that 
 his transcripts are invariably grey and cold — frequently 
 repulsively so — we shiver as we look, at them. Critics 
 conclude, hastily, that he does not represent what he 
 sees. The probability is, he does see what he repre- 
 sents, but that he does not see all, and that we do not 
 see as he does. We therefore condemn his work as 
 wanting in truthfulness. Another artist, differently 
 organised, is gifted with an " eye for colour.'' In 
 looking at nature, the greyness is lost, or nearly lost, 
 upon him. He sees the splendour of tint and tone ; 
 the endless variety of Nature's hues appeals to his 
 sensitive vision; he applies all the resources of his 
 palette to produce a representation of the effects of 
 colour displayed before him ; and from this excess he 
 not improbably fails in truthfulness. Now David Cox 
 was so happily organised as to have possessed a keen 
 perception of Nature's atmospheric greyness in the 
 gradations of distance, and also an eye for her strongest 
 and her most subtle effects of colour. Hence the ex- 
 ceeding truthfulness and naturalness of his works, in 
 which we have both excellences in happy combination. 
 Cox^s slightest sketches have as great an appearance of 
 truthfulness as his more finished works. Let the 
 subject be only a cottage by the roadside, a group of 
 trees, with a fragment of park paling, an old water- 
 
216 DAVID OOX. 
 
 mill, or a windmill at tlie edge of a common ; two or 
 three cart-horses or cows, grazing in a pasture ; a team 
 at plough, or a husbandman stalking over the furrowed 
 land, and casting seed to the right and left of him as 
 he goes; however simple in character, and however 
 slight in the making out, there is an appearance of 
 truthfulness in these hasty memoranda which strikes all 
 beholders at the first glance. In very many instances 
 they would be spoiled if another touch were put upon 
 them. They seem complete as they are. Cox went to 
 the heart of the matter at once, and a few strokes and 
 tints fixed it on the paper with all the requisite efiect. 
 He seized immediately on the leading characteristics of 
 his subject, and lost no time in dwelling on features 
 not essential to the truth of what he desired to tell. 
 Tor this reason so many of his sketches and unfinished 
 works possess charms which a higher stage of finish 
 would seriously impair. 
 
 Thirdly, David Cox was an JEnfflish painter by love 
 and choice, as well as by the accident of birth : he gave 
 the preference to the scenery of his own country. He 
 cared not to depict the views in Any-man's land or in 
 No-man's land. He had little of the visionary ideahst 
 in his composition, and shrank from allowing his ima- 
 gination to conjure np dreams of ancient Italy or 
 classic Grreece as subjects on which to exercise his 
 artistic skill. He rarely indulged in soaring flights of 
 this ambitions character. Once or twice, perhaps, he 
 made excursions into this poetic region, but soon found 
 it was no home for him, and returned like the prodigal 
 
HIS CLOUDS AND 8EIE8. 217 
 
 to his fatherland. It is true he visited the Continent 
 on several occasions, and found material there to interest 
 him, especially in the street scenes and picturesque 
 buildings ; but for the scenery of his own country, its 
 freshness, variety, and homeliaess, he had an affection 
 which he could never feel for that of any other land. 
 He was not merely- content to spend his life in delineat- 
 ing the unpretending subjects he found within the 
 sea-washed boundaries of England and "Wales ; he 
 rejoiced in it, and found endless delight in the 
 picturesque bits of rural landscape that lay close to his 
 door — the rustic dwellings of the peasantry, the farms 
 and homesteads, the old green lanes, the furze-clad 
 commons, the wild heathy wastes, the ruin-crowned 
 hills, the woods, waters, moorlands, and storm-beaten 
 mountains of his own dear land. He had a strong 
 affection for the " effects " incidental to our fickle 
 climate and variable weather. The humid skies and 
 frequent showers that fill the delicate with alarm, and 
 strike the foreigner aghast, were to him a source of 
 endless pleasure; and he never wearied of repeating 
 them in his works. Although he has given us many 
 skies of a bright and cheerful character — skies beaming 
 with golden sunshine, or serenely dappled with blue 
 and white — his preference was manifest for skies sug- 
 gestive of moist and rainy and lowering weather. He 
 loved the sweet grey of the rain-cloud. He loved the 
 gloom of gathering or bursting storm. He dehghted 
 in the grand effects displayed by skies of this character, 
 especially in mountainous districts. He loved also the 
 
218 DAVID COX. 
 
 fleeting effects of light and shadow produced by skies in 
 which cloud chases cloud across the blue expanse, and 
 broad waves of sunshine, with alternate shadows, sweep 
 over hill and dale, meadow and woodland, giving to 
 inanimate Nature an expression like that which a passing 
 emotion of joy or sadness imparts to the face of man. 
 
CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 Eemarbs in Conoluaiou — Influence of Cox's Works and Genius on the Landscape 
 Art in this Country, and on the Public Taste. 
 
 Eeplecting on the artistic career of David Cox, it is 
 impossible not to be impressed with a sense of his perse- 
 vering and incessant industry ; his unwearied application 
 to study; his firm self-reliance, in spite of many dis- 
 couragements ; his earnest devotion to his art. He never 
 depended for great results on spurts and flashes of 
 genius, but strove to acquire all knowledge needful in 
 his pursuit ; he was a learner even when he was acknow- 
 ledged as a master. He was always at work, either with 
 brush or pencil in hand, or considering subjects to be 
 taken up. The immense number of his works, finished 
 and unfinished, both in oil and water-colour, afibrds 
 evidence sufficient of his untiring industry and of the 
 fertility of his mind. That he was gifted with genius 
 in a consummate degree few at this time will be inclined 
 to dispute. His sensibility to the beautiful in Nature 
 must have been most exquisite, or he could not have 
 recorded the subtle and manifold charms he beheld with 
 such wonderful effect. Imagination — within the range 
 of the subjects he best loved — was transcendent in him. 
 The daring courage with which he attacked subjects and 
 effects most difficult to deal with ; the absolute foreknow- 
 ledge of what he intended to do ; the directness and 
 
220 DAVID COX. 
 
 certainty with which he did it at a stroke ; all indicate 
 the master-mind — ^that indefinable quahty, the union of 
 perception and power, which we call genius. In many 
 of his drawings it is delightful to observe with what 
 sureness of hand and unerring precision he worked his 
 way to the designed result. Not a touch too many or 
 too few. Not a tint misplaced. Neither too weak nor 
 too strong. His colour may be said to be always right 
 for the place, and to be always kept subservient to the 
 efEect of the whole. His sweetness is unsurpassed in 
 its tenderness and grace ; his strength has few rivals in 
 its majesty and splendour. 
 
 The Author's admiration of the genius of Cox and 
 the merit of his works may by some be deemed too 
 enthusiastic ; but he would like to ask, who has depicted 
 the green lanes of England, with the picturesque beauty 
 and the poetry peculiar to them, more successfully than 
 David Cox ? Who has shown us the lowly dwelling of 
 the peasant by the quiet meadow-side, or on the wild 
 mountain moor, the mill by the brawling stream, the 
 grey church-tower above the trees, the peaceful village, 
 the time-worn priory or baronial hall, with more of 
 truthfulness and beauty than he has done ? Who has 
 illustrated seed-time and harvest, has put before us 
 smiling meadows, with flocks and herds knee-deep 
 in verdure, or summer hay-fields, filled with Hfe, more 
 happily, with greater truth and beauty, than David 
 Cox ? Who has depicted the dreary wastes, the rocky 
 torrents, the purple deep-toned solemn mountain heights 
 of his beloved Wales with subtler skill ? Dear old David 
 
TEE HAPPINESS OF HIS LIFE. 221 
 
 Cox ! We bless thy memory for the sweet glimpses of 
 Nature given us in thy faithful works. "We gratefully 
 view through thy loving eyes the manifold beauties of 
 our own dear land. 
 
 If we cast a retrospective view over the life of David 
 Cox, through a period comprising the whole of his artist 
 career, we arrive at the conclusion that on the whole 
 his was a happy life. True, in early days he had to 
 struggle to live, and knew what it was to encounter 
 the frowns of fortune, having sometimes been hard put 
 to it to find the means of subsistence. True, he not 
 unfrequently felt that teaching others to draw was 
 irksome drudgery, which his spirit rebelled against, and 
 by which it was often beaten down, bruised if not broken. 
 True, he was many a time greatly dissatisfied vdth his 
 studies from nature, and has torn up in vexation the re- 
 sults of many a day's hard work, and thrust the fragments' 
 down the drains of London streets, disgusted with his 
 feeble attempts to delineate what he had admired. But 
 of what were these troubles when compared with his great 
 reward ? And this reward came of his true manliness. 
 He was never vanquished, if sometimes overthrown. 
 There was courage in his heart and elasticity in his 
 spirit to enable him to return to his work with renewed 
 and augmented energy, even after failure. Then he had 
 the rare felicity of choosing his own work in life and of 
 ordering it according to his wish. 
 
 Nor was the life one to be despised for its en- 
 joyments, independent of art. He sat, day after day 
 and yea~r after year, in the fresh, Open country, amidst 
 
222 DAVID COX. 
 
 the most lovely scenery, with the birds warbling around, 
 the sweet air blowing freely aronnd him, and the 
 brightness of sunshine filling bim with delight. It 
 was his work to note and record for the pleasure and 
 the instruction of thousands, the delicious calm of 
 eventide, the glories of rising and setting suns, the 
 terrors of storm and tempest, the varying hues and 
 effects of the changing seasons, the occupations of out- 
 of-door existence, of aU that world of life and beauty 
 of which the dwellers in towns know little, and 
 concerning which the toilers pent in workshop, 
 warehouse, or busy wharf, pass through existence 
 in ignorance of their charms. He was happy in the 
 knowledge that such was the lot in life marked out 
 for him. He was happy in the conviction that he 
 was organised to receive exquisite pleasure from all 
 he saw around him ; that he was endowed with the 
 power to record those impressions for the delight of 
 others, and to awake in their minds something of 
 the ecstasy which filled his own. As time wore on, 
 he was happy to feel and know that his . genius was 
 admitted by many whose good opinion was a recom- 
 pense for all his labours ; that his works were coveted 
 and prized by the educated and discerning among 
 his countrymen; and that his place in English art 
 was assured. He was happy, as he advanced in years, 
 to behold around him, as the result of long-continued 
 industry, commendable frugality, and honest self- 
 control, the comforts and conveniences of hfe; to 
 know that his struggles for existence were aU over; 
 
HIS EARNINGS AS A PAINTER. 223 
 
 and tliat prosperity and plenty were his at last. And 
 he was especially happy in the reflection that he should 
 he enabled to leave behind him for those who were 
 dear to him as life itself, sufficient for their every need. 
 
 The money savings of David Cox, the produce of 
 his brush, amounted to a sum of about £12,000 — 
 small enough, doubtless, but not so poor, considering 
 the times in which he lived, and the moderate value 
 he set upon his works. Some popular artists of our 
 day would repine if they could not put by — or, more 
 probably, spend — as large a sum as this every two or 
 three years. But it must be remembered that Cox was 
 not popular with the class that buys pictures quickly, 
 and at high prices. The dealers thought little of him 
 until he was dead ; and " patrons " depend very much 
 upon the dealers' guidance. Cox had to educate his 
 public before he could sell his works, and the operation 
 required time, and a persistent struggle for opportunities. 
 However, he contrived to put by from his earnings 
 the sum of £13,000, leaving handsome legacies to his 
 grandchildren, to his old and faithful servant, and the 
 residue to his son. He also bequeathed to the latter 
 all his unsold works of every kind, which, when 
 offered for sale a few years after his death, and when 
 his fame had become diffused, realised the not unim- 
 portant amount of something approaching to £26,000. 
 After all, not so very bad. 
 
 Let us now leave him, resting in his humble 
 grave, in the churchyard of his beloved Harborne, 
 with the chaplet he has won encircling his revered 
 
224 DAVIB COX. 
 
 grey hairs, and the affections of those to whom he was 
 endeared following his spirit to that other world wherein 
 it dwells, amid delights that shall know no ending ! 
 
 In concluding this chapter, a few remarks may be 
 permitted on the influence which the works and genius 
 o£ David Cox have exercised upon the landscape-art of 
 this country, and on the public taste. 
 
 There can be little doubt that Cox's choice of home 
 scenery, and his revelation of its beauties, have shown 
 both to artists and the public the surpassing loveliness 
 and interest of the landscape material to be found in 
 endless abundance at home. Multitudes of landscape 
 painters have followed the footsteps of Cox over those 
 parts of the country where he found his most captivating 
 subjects. Bettws-y-coed, in particular, his favourite and 
 memorable haunt, has for years been the regular camping- 
 ground of men anxious to rival him in his own special 
 field. The productions of some of these have perhaps 
 exhibited too close a reserablance to the works of the 
 master whose genius they admired ; but many, without 
 being in any sense imitators of Cox, nevertheless 
 display proofs that their authors have been deeply 
 influenced by him as regards feeling and treatment, and 
 by his peculiar way of looking at Nature. The works 
 of such artists have been distributed throughout the 
 land, and the public taste has been elevated. In a 
 word. Cox taught other painters how to see Nature, and 
 where to look for her beauties ; and those whom he thus 
 influenced have diffused his teaching through the ranks 
 of all who care for Art. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Special Exhibitions of Cox's Works — Liverpool Art Club Banquet. 
 
 Shortly before the death of David Cox, towards the 
 end of 1858, and again, at the beginning of 1859, as 
 many of his works as were available were collected for 
 public exhibition. The first of these exhibitions was 
 held at Hampstead, in the rooms of the Conversazione 
 Society, and attracted a large number of visitors from 
 all parts of the country. Several artists of eminence 
 interested themselves in it, and Mr. E. Field delivered 
 an admirable address at the opening. In April of the 
 following year a more considerable collection was made. 
 Nearly 1 70 works in oil and water-colour were exhibited 
 -at the German Grallery in New Bond Street. The 
 lenders comprised some of the best-known names 
 amongst the collectors of modern works of art : and the 
 profits of the exhibition were devoted to the augmenta- 
 tion of the Artists' Benevolent Fund. 
 
 The last and most comprehensive collection of the 
 artist's productions was brought together in Liverpool, 
 at the close of 1875, by the persevering energy of the 
 members of the Art Club of that city, and was opened 
 to the public in their rooms in Myrtle Street. No 
 trouble or expense was spared in bringing this collec- 
 tion together from all quarters, and every work was 
 p 
 
226 DAVIB COX. 
 
 insured at the value set upon it by tlie owner ; the sum 
 total reaching to about one hundred thousand pounds. 
 The collection numbered altogether 448 works of all 
 periods ; and, notwithstanding that many of Cox's 
 finest productions could not be had, the exhibition was 
 considered fairly representative of the artist's genius. 
 It contained fifty -seven pictures in oil ; among them 
 were some of Cox's best works of the kind. The 
 remainder were drawings in water-colours, sepia, and 
 charcoal. Of those in charcoal there were thirty-nine 
 examples ; and nearly fifty in sepia.* There was also 
 one pen-and-ink sketch from nature, dated as early as 
 1805, and contrihuted by the author of this Memoir. 
 The water-colour drawings were exceedingly varied in 
 character and subject, and showed the progress made by 
 the artist from the commencement to the close of his 
 career. The following notice of the exhibition is taken 
 from The Birmingham Daily Post of November 15th, 
 1875, the proprietors of which paper sent a special 
 reporter to Liverpool, to furnish an account of the 
 exhibition. It may interest some to know the names 
 of the lenders of those works exhibited on that occasion, 
 
 * Cox made many drawings in black chalk, charcoal, and sepia. The 
 majority are exceedingly fine. Of those in chalk, the author is not aware 
 of any number of them gathered into a collection ; but Mr. Perrins, of 
 Worcester, possesses about thirty- six beautiful drawings in charcoal (which 
 he lent for exhibition in the Liverpool Art Club collection) ; and Mr. Alfred 
 Betts, of Birmingham, is the owner of a most captivating collection of 
 twenty works in sepia. Many of them are characterised by beauty of 
 subject and most skilful treatment. Cox produced his chalk and charcoal 
 drawings with great facility. They are chiefly studies from nature, and 
 are exceedingly effective. He usually had them made up into books, con- 
 taining about a dozen each. 
 
EXHIBITION OF HIS WOBES AT LIVERPOOL. 227 
 
 and to read the particulars of the proceedings on the 
 opening day : — 
 
 Among the many movements which are now taking place 
 with the object of elevating and refining the artistic taste of 
 Liverpool, none are more laudable or have been more successful, 
 than the exhibitions held from time to time by the Liverpool 
 Art Club, which was established about two years ago, largely 
 through the exertions of Mr. James L. Bowes (who is well 
 known as a most thorough and devoted student of Japanese art), 
 Mr. P. H. Rathbone, and other gentlemen of artistic tastes. Ex- 
 hibitions have been held of specimens of goldsmiths' art, Japanese 
 bronze, lacquer-ware, porcelain manufacture, etchings, pictures of 
 living and of deceased British artists, Belgian and Dutch. pictures, 
 embroidery, and other interesting art specimens, mainly contri- 
 buted by gentlemen residing in or near Liverpool. The promoters 
 of the club have now made a collection of the works of David 
 Cox, and the exhibition will be opened to the public to-morrow, the 
 press view taking place on Saturday. The committee appear to 
 have exercised great care and discretion in the selection of the pic- 
 tures, which have been readily sent by collectors from all parts of 
 the country. There are four hundred and forty-eight works in all, 
 fifty-seven of which are in oil, and the remainder in water-colour and 
 charcoal. The early, middle, and later styles of the great artist are 
 represented by many fine and varied examples. The oil-paintings 
 include "Going to the Hayfield," painted in 1849, and contributed 
 by Mr. Page, of Birmingham, in which Cox's treatment of a simple 
 rural subject is very powerfully shown, as well as his peculiarity of 
 giving life and motion to figures ; the " Big. Meadow, near the 
 'Royal Oak,' Bettws-y-coed," painted in 1853, contributed by Mr 
 Holbrook Gaskell ; "Flying the Kite" (1851), also contributed by 
 Mr. Gaskell, in which a fine example is given of the artist's power 
 of representing space and distance, and the play of the wind upon 
 surrounding objects. The "Welsh Funeral," contributed by Mr. 
 Gaskell, is one of the scenes which had evidently impressed Cox 
 from its pathos and simplicity, and its main incidents are repeatetl 
 in some other works. " Darley Churchyard" (1850), contributed by 
 Mr. E. Crompton Potter, is a very fine specimen of colouring. In 
 
228 DAVID COX. 
 
 \ 
 
 "Windsor Castle and Park" (1846), contributed by Mr. F. Nettle- 
 fold, of London, a noble sweep of woodland landscape is presented, 
 crowned by the castle in the distance. There is more detaU tree- 
 painting in the "Skirts of the Forest" (1855 — 6), contributed by 
 Mr. J. H. Nettlefold, of Birmingham. In "Lancaster Sands" 
 (1855), contributed by Mr. J. E. Taylor, of Manchester, there is 
 another instance of the painter's skill iu investing a simple, and 
 what to ordinary minds would be a common-place subject, with the 
 charms of imagination. This part of the coast was one of his 
 favourite resorts, and, as was the case with the places that he loved, 
 he painted it over and over again in various moods of weather and 
 atmosphere. Of Bettws, where Cox also delighted to dwell, there 
 are many interesting memorials in the collection, both amongst the 
 oil and water colours ; while there are numerous illustrations also of 
 the wild and rugged mountain fastnesses in North "Wales, where the 
 painter was wont to linger in his more active days. On the screens 
 are some pictures in his more careful and finished manner ; and the 
 sepia and charcoal drawings, which are shown in rooms up-stairs, 
 contain some very. characteristic and interesting sketches. In the 
 main gallery is exhibited the portrait of Cox, by Sir J. W. Gordon, 
 lent by the Council of the Birmingham and Midland Institute. 
 Amongst the Birmingham and other local contributors are Mrs. 
 Bullock, Mrs. Betts, Mrs. Rhodes, and Messrs. J. Archer, R. L. 
 Chance, J. T. Collins, Alfred Betts, John Betts, Wm Everitt, 
 W. Fallows, Dr. Bell Fletcher, Geo. Graham, Joseph GiUott, B. 
 HaU, Wm. Hall, J. Hawkins, J. A Kenrick, Wm. Kenrick, M. 
 Lindner, J. H. Mole, J. H. Nettlefold, T. Page, C. T. Parsons, C. 
 W. Radclyffe, S. Timings, Horace Woodward, and the Rev. C. J. 
 Sale, of Holt, Worcester. Prefixed to the catalogue is an introduc- 
 tion written by Mr. William Hall — one of the artist's most intimate 
 friends — giving some account of his life, his method of working, and 
 a critical notice of his genius. It forms a record well worth per- 
 manent keeping. On Saturday the members of the club and con- 
 tributors dined together. 
 
 The dinner alluded to in the foregoing notice was a 
 great success. The following account of it is taken 
 from the Liverpool Daili/ Post of November 1 5th : — 
 
EXHIBITION OF HIS WORKS AT LIVERPOOL. 229 
 
 To celebrate the opening of the exhibition, the President of the 
 Art Club, Mr. James L. Bowes, invited a number of gentlemen to 
 dine at the Club on Saturday evening, and afterwards to witness the 
 collection. The president himself occupied the chair, and there were 
 also present, Mr. Benson Rathbone, Mr. "Wm. Mathison, Mr. Arthur 
 Robinson, Mr. Philip H. Rathbone, the Rev. C. Beard, the Rev. C. 
 Pamell, Mr. Holbrook Gaskell (Chairman of the Cox Exhibition 
 Committee), Mr. Gustav Busek, Mr. John Finnie, Mr. W. Hind, 
 Mr. 0. R. Russell, Mr. Louis Greg, Mr. Enoch Harvey, Mr. W. D. 
 Holt, Mr. Robert D. Holt, Mr. Gilbert W. Moss, Mr. E. G. Prange, 
 and Mr. B. H. Grindley (Secretary of the Cox Exhibition Committee). 
 The following contributors from a distance were also present : — 
 Messrs. C. W. Radclyffe, Birmingham; H. B. Roberts, Frederick 
 Nettlefold, London ; J. H. Nettlefold, Birmingham ; E. Stirling 
 Howard, Sheffield ; Dr. Bell Fletcher, Birmingham ; Mr. J. Beaving- 
 ton Atkinson, Hon. Sec. Burlington Fine Arts Club, London j and 
 Mr. Edward T. Bellhouse, President Brazenose Club, Manchester. 
 
 Speeches were delivered by Mr. Bowes, the presi- 
 dent ; by Dr. Bell Fletcher, Cox's medical adviser ; Mr. 
 Frederick Nettlefold, of London ; Mr. C. W. Eadclyffe, 
 of Birmingham, an old friend of David Cox ; Mr. 
 Holbrook Graskell; Mr. E. R. Eussell, who responded 
 for the Press ; Mr. H. B. Eoberts, and Mr. J. Finnie, 
 who represented local art. The speech of Mr. Eadclyffe, 
 which was one of the most telling addresses delivered 
 on the occasion, and which gave some amusing anecdotes 
 and interesting information respecting Cox, it may be 
 desirable to preserve. He said : — 
 
 I thank you, Mr. President, for "the kind manner in which you 
 have proposed my health. It is a great thing for men immersed in 
 business, as you gentlemen are, to have thrown yourselves so heartily 
 into the labour of getting together this magnificent collection of the 
 works of David Cox. There is no doubt this should have been done 
 in his native town — Birmingham ; but failing this, and as Cox was a 
 
230 DAVID COX. 
 
 man for all places and all men, I have felt it a great privilege to afford 
 you all the aid I could. [Mr. Eadclyffe arranged the coUection for 
 the Club.] There is one great similarity between David Cox and 
 myself — he never could, and never did, make a speech. When his 
 portrait was presented to him at a banquet given by his friend Mr. 
 Charles Birch, at Metchley Abbey, I called for him on my way 
 thither, and said he would have to make a speech. " Oh, no ! " he 
 said, " I shan't." Turning to his old sei-vant, Ann Fowler, he said, 
 " Mind and have my bread and milk ready by nine o'clock ! " After 
 his health had been drunk at the dinner, he got up, and in a very 
 few words thanked us aU. Soon after, he turned round to me, and 
 said he must go, as he was sure his supper was ready. I walked 
 over to his house with him, and he took his simple meal, like a school- 
 boy, which he always was, for Cox never got old in mind ; he was 
 always fresh and simple as a child, full of fun and small jokes. I 
 remember when he was staying at my father's, which he often did a 
 month at a time. My father and he used frequently to spend an 
 evening with J. V. Barber, the artist, who generally kept them very 
 late. [Mr. Radclyffe then told the anecdote df Cox and the old 
 watchman, narrated in the body of this work, which created great 
 amusement. He went on :] — We often hear it said, in much sadness, 
 when one of Cox's pictures is sold for thousands, when he only had a 
 few pounds for it, " Poor fellow ! what a shame he did not reap a 
 better reward !" I really think it is far better as it is. No man 
 more thoroughly enjoyed his life. His habits and tastes were of the 
 most simple kiud. He saved what to him was a large competency, 
 and a good fortune for his only son. His house, with all the sur- 
 roundings, was a model of English comfort. Suppose he had been 
 besieged by patrons and dealers, he might have launched out — I do 
 hot say he would — into extravagant habits, had a huge magnificent 
 painting-room, filled with all the paraphernalia of Wardour Street ; 
 he might have kept his carriage, taken his '40 port, and died twenty 
 years before he did ; and instead of being remembered by troops of 
 friends as a dear, simple friend, only thought of as a big Mogul. 
 No, I would not like his life to have been changed one bit. His 
 troubles and sorrows were not over-biwdensome, and he was beloved 
 by all who came in contact with him. I look back to the hours I 
 have spent with him with a keen relish and delight few can realise ; 
 
EXHIBITION OF SIS WORKS AT LIVEBFOOL. 231 
 
 sitting with him in the little room he always painted in when at 
 my father's, whilst very often my mother read aloud. On one occasion, 
 I remember she read " Ben Brace," by Captain Chamier. Cox in one 
 part could not go on for his tears, which were falling fast at some pa- 
 thetic passage. The evenings his friend William Hall and myself spent 
 at Greenfield, are photographed in my mind, never to be forgotten. 
 We were always there one evening in each week, more often twice ; 
 sometimes to tea, always to supper, just half a cigar, whilst we looked 
 over a folio of drawings, or discussed a great subject already rubbed in 
 with charcoal. Sometimes Cox was a little out of spirits, but his grum- 
 blings were short and sweet, and if he now and then repined at his 
 want of success, he never envied a more fortunate rival. Turner, 
 Miiller, De Wint, and Copley Fielding are great names ; but I question 
 if any of them appeal to us with the same force as David Cox. We allow 
 their genius and greatness, but there is something irresistible in the 
 works of Cox ; their grandeur or sweetness- touch our hearts at once. 
 He picked up incidents and effects of colour and sunshine as no other 
 man ever did or wiU do. Look at that grand, pathetic picture, 
 the " Welsh Funeral " — solemn, but full of flowers and light and 
 hope ; nothing dismal or funereal about it — a simple peasant going 
 to her home in the mountains. Who would not die, to have such a 
 song painted over him? Look at the picture called the "Skylark,'' 
 glittering with dew-drops and gorgeous with light. Who could ever 
 cage a lark after looking on that picture 1 What old men he drew — 
 tottering, but sturdy, on their bandy legs, fit mates for the old 
 women driving their geese, or trudging across the common to mar- 
 ket ! Then what horses — shaggy-coated, broad-chested, made to 
 carry the old fellow who is asking the way ! And then what cows 
 he painted — real farm-yard dairy cows, horned cattle with bones and 
 rough hair, not the sleek things we too often see, with glossy skins 
 fit for dress-waistcoats ! His figures were always well drawn, 
 always appropriate, and we feel they are necessary to the picture 
 — which is rarely the case with figures in a landscape. Cox always 
 seized upon something— either a grand or simple bit ; and he was 
 always at work. I remember him bringing home a very lovely 
 sketch made at Sale, of a man filling a water-cart. Once, when 
 sitting painting at our house, my mother entered the room draped in 
 deep black. Cox called to her, " Stop ! " and made a capital sketch 
 
232 DAVID COX. 
 
 of her, which is now in this gallery. Two great complaints have 
 been made against him — one that he never could " draw I " — 
 what a mercy he could not ! — and another, he had never gone through 
 freehand drawing, or drawing from the flat. Another was, he had 
 no imagination ! Fancy, with an incident or a story in every sketch 
 or picture he ever painted, saying he had no imagination ! 'Tis a 
 mercy he had none of the kind they mean, or we might have had 
 angels and nightmare visions enough to startle a Dante ! Although 
 his work looks so easy, no man was so difficult to please ; .and I have 
 sat by him when he has torn up drawing after drawing. He knew 
 no tricks in art ; his work was always pure and simple. He used 
 the most simple colours and means to record his great ideas. A few 
 days before he died he went up-stairs leaning on the arm of his faithful 
 Ann. Stopping at his painting-room door, he looked in and said, 
 " Good-bye, pictures ! Good-bye, pictures ! I shall never see you any 
 more ! " and he never did ! 
 
 In connection with this exhibition of the works of 
 Cox, and arising out of it, was the publication in 
 September of the following year, by the Liverpool Art 
 Club, of three fine engravings after Cox, by Mr. Edward 
 Eadclyfie, deceased, entitled the " Cox Liber Studiorum." 
 The following extract from the advertisement prefixed 
 will explain the circumstances under which the publica- 
 tion was undertaken : — 
 
 The Liverpool Art Club, while collecting the works of David 
 Cox for the exhibition which excited so general an interest in the 
 autumn of 1875, learned that it had been in contemplation to 
 publish a Cox Liber Studiorum, devoted to the special qualities of 
 English landscape and atmosphere, and engraved in that method of 
 etching, combined with mezzotint, which distinguishes Turner's 
 Liber Studiorum from other engravings. These plates were com- 
 pleted in the highest style of art, by the eminent engraver, and 
 friend of David Cox, Edward Radclyffe. Death, unhappUy, caused 
 the project to be abandoned, as no other engraver has hitherto been 
 found combining all the qualities necessary to overcome the diffi- 
 
TEE OOX "LIBER 8TUDI0BUM." 233 
 
 culties of the task ; and the three plates have remained un- 
 published until now. Those who examine them must feel that, by 
 the untimely death of Mr. Eadclyffe, England has been deprived of 
 a magnificent tribute to the peculiar beauties of her scenery, and to 
 those manifold charms of her skies which constitute the recompense 
 for the variable climate which causes them. 
 
 The three plates were acquired by the Liverpool Art Club, under 
 the guarantee of a few of its members, and are now issued under 
 conditions which insure that none but the very finest proof impres- 
 sions shall exist. The issue is restricted to one hundred and fifty im- 
 pressions, which have been produced without the slightest perceptible 
 deterioration. Of these one hundred were ofiered to members of this 
 Club and the Burlington Fine Arts Club, and to the exhibitors of the 
 Cox Exhibition, and have been eagerly taken up. Twenty-five are 
 to be distributed amongst the chief libraries of the country, and 
 twenty-five are reserved by the Club as a method of paying an 
 unique compliment to those whom it may be especially desired to 
 recognise as earnest workers in the cause of Art. 
 
 The subjects of the plates are — First, " Dudley 
 Castle," with the canal and limekilns in the foreground. 
 A very fine subject. Second, " The Outskirts of a 
 Forest." A favourite subject of the artist. Third, 
 " Bala Lake, North "Wales." A subject of remarkable 
 beauty. 
 
 The work was published by Messrs. Colnaghi and 
 Co., London, for the Liverpool Art Club. The 
 admirers of David Cox will regret that Mr. Edward 
 Eadclyfie did not live to complete the task he had pro- 
 posed to himself : to render the "Cox Liber Studiorum" 
 a comprehensive exhibition of the artist's genius and 
 power. • 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 (additional BT THE EDITOR.) 
 
 Supplementary Notes — Cox's Great Contemporaries — Birmingham Friends — 
 Character and Habits — Engravings — Prices— Sales, Chronology, &c. 
 
 A PEW notes are needed to supplement in some respects 
 the Memoir of David Cox prepared by Mr. Hall. They 
 are necessarily of a somewhat discursive character, as 
 they merely aim at supplying omissions in the Memoir ; 
 but the writer hopes they will not be found wanting in 
 usefulness and interest. 
 
 The writer of the Memoir, it will be observed, makes 
 no attempt to fix the place of Cox in relation to water- 
 colour art, historically ; nor does he enter upon any com- 
 parison of Cox with his more eminent contemporaries. 
 Such an estimate, indeed, belongs to a history of Water- 
 colour Art in this countiy ; a work which would be of 
 high value, if it were executed by some competent person, 
 and would supply a deficiency which is now seriously 
 felt. The only attempt to deal systematically with the 
 subject is to be found in Mr. Samuel Eedgrave's " De- 
 scriptive Catalogue of the Historical Collection of Water- 
 colour Paintings in the South Kensington Museum;" 
 but this work, though most interesting and useful so far 
 as it extends, does not profess to enter upon a compara- 
 tive critical examination of the English Water-colour 
 School. The revival and development of this branch of 
 
ENGLISH WATEB-OOLOUB PAINTEB8. ' 235 
 
 Art is due to the remarkable company of water-colour 
 painters who were contemporary with Cox. The practical 
 founder of the School, Thomas Grirtin, was bom in 1773, 
 ten years before Cox. He was followed in 1774 by 
 Greorge Barret, and in 1775 by Turner, the great master 
 of landscape art ; John Yarley was born in 1778 ; John 
 Sell Cotman in 1782 ; Cox himself in 1783 ; Samuel 
 Prout in the same year; Peter de "Wint in 1784 ; and 
 Copley Fielding in 1787. Thus, no period of Water- 
 colour Art is more brilliant, or presents such an array of 
 memorable, and even illustrious contemporary painters. 
 Of these, setting Turner aside, Cox is beyond comparison 
 the most widely known, and the greatest, alikg^ in his 
 range, the vigour of his method, and his direct appeal to 
 the sympathy, and, it may be justly said, the affection of 
 picture-lovers. His hold upon the public mind is most 
 remarkable in one respect, as compared with his con- 
 temporaries. They seem to have receded into the far 
 distance — so to speak, they have become " old masters." 
 No one thinks of Varley or Barret, or Cotman, or 
 De Wint, or Copley Fielding, as within the range of 
 personal memory. With Cox it is widely different. He 
 seems to be still amongst us, or so close to our time that 
 he still is felt as an almost actual presence. Yet it is 
 now nearly a century since his birth ; and nearly a 
 generation has elapsed since the period of his death. 
 The preservative influence which has kept him so close 
 to us, in honour as a painter and in affection as a man, 
 seems to be of a twofold character : his infinite variety 
 in the choice of subject, his fidelity to Nature, and his 
 
236 BAVID COX. 
 
 keen sympathy with her homelier aspects; and the 
 sweet and tender qualities of his personal character, and 
 the simplicity and friendliness of his Hfe. On the former 
 of these topics enough has been said in Mr. Hall's 
 Memoir. On the latter, those who knew David Cox — 
 and there are some of these stiU. left in Birmingham — 
 are never tired of talking. " Old Farmer Cox," 
 Turner used to call him ; " Dear old David Cox," was 
 the familiar expression of his friends. These two 
 designations paint the man for us with force and truth- 
 fulness : the former expresses his bluff, hearty, homely, 
 farmer-like, out-of-doors kind of manner; the latter 
 sums up, in one sentence, the moral and mental qualities 
 which endeared Cox to aU who came frequently into 
 intercourse with him. Modesty, simplicity, truthful- 
 ness, singleness of purpose — these were the notes of his 
 character ; they are apparent in his works and iu his hfe. 
 There was no trace of mere selfishness about David Cox. 
 He was content with modest gains from the exercise of 
 his art ; he never vaunted himself or his powers, he 
 never sought commendation, or repined at not receiving 
 it ; he never depreciated the merits of other painters, in 
 order indirectly to exalt his own. Indeed, even at the 
 height of his fame, and in the maturity of his powers, he 
 had always a feeling, often expressed in his own quiet 
 way, that others could do better work, or could do it 
 more easily, than himself. Sensitive he was, doubtless 
 — that is inseparable from the artist nature — but he 
 never permitted this feeling to pass into a morbid phase. 
 No fretful complaint ever passed his lips at the fuller 
 
SIMPLICITY OF HIS CHABAOTUB. 237 
 
 measure of popular appreciation or of pecuniary success 
 attained by painters of capacity inferior to his own. 
 
 On tbe contrary, his tendency was to self-deprecia- 
 tion, and to a generous recognition of the claims of his 
 contemporaries. The simplicity of his character can be 
 justly described only as being child-like. He was 
 invariably trustful, very faithful to his friends, open 
 and candid with them, frank in his intercourse, honest 
 in the expression of his opinions, and most desirous that 
 his friends should be just as honest and frank with him. 
 He was eminently a social man ; nothing gave him 
 greater delight than the company of a few attached 
 friends — in the studio, on sketching excursions, in a 
 pleasant country walk, in familiar conversation after 
 working hours. The even temperament of his mind 
 especially fitted him to enjoy such intercourse. As- 
 sumption was wholly foreign to him, and hateful. He 
 had no testiness ; occasionally he grew warm in argu- 
 ment, but he was never passionate or unjust, and the 
 display of warmth was but momentary. To those 
 commonly about him he was invariably courteous and 
 kind; few men kept servants so long as he did, or 
 received from them such loving attention ; yet the 
 simple dignity of his character and bearing effectually 
 prevented the famiUarity which breeds contempt. AU 
 who approached him felt this : it was impossible to be 
 rude with David Cox, or to be irreverent, or coarse, or 
 even rough in his company. Even those who saw him 
 but rarely felt the influence which, as if by instinct, 
 commanded' respect, while it inspired affection. There 
 
238 DAVID COX. 
 
 was, in truth, an air of goodness about him which made 
 itself recognised without assertion. It was the same 
 with his religious feeling. In this there was no 
 ostentation, but, nevertheless, there was an obvious 
 sincerity, too plain to be mistaken ; not that he was in 
 any degree sombre, nor was there in him any touch of 
 Pharisaism. His religion was part of his daily life, 
 just as was his devotion to art, and his fulfilment of all 
 that seemed to him to be a duty. Cheerfulness was a 
 marked characteristic of David Cox. He talked with 
 ease and vivacity ; he liked a harmless joke or a good 
 story ; he was an especial favourite with young people ; 
 and he loved music, provided it was lively. This last- 
 named taste survived to his later years. Once he 
 showed it in a remarkable way. A lady to whom he 
 was much attached — Mrs. Everitt, the wife of his old 
 friend Mr. Edward Everitt — played some lively dance 
 music in his hearing. Cox bade her repeat it; and 
 then he broke out into a quick step, accordant with the 
 tune. It reminded him, he said, of his early days at 
 the theatre ; yet, so far as the writer knows, he rarely, 
 if ever, entered a theatre after the severance of his 
 connection with Macready's company; certainly never 
 in his maturer life. In fact, he felt no want of amuse- 
 ment ; his art supplied him with recreation as well as 
 occupation. His old friends well remember that all his 
 talk was of Art — its pleasures, its incidents, its practice ; 
 of work achieved or contemplated; of sketching tours 
 past or prospective. His letters — the few he wrote, for 
 he cared little for correspondence — are full of the same 
 
TEE UNITY OF HIS LIFE. 239 
 
 topic ; and even in his hours of idleness, when visiting 
 friends or receiving them, he commonly asked for paper 
 and pencil, and busied himself in drawing. Art, indeed, 
 was his life ; from the day on which a kind friend in 
 his boyhood gave him a colour-box, to the hour when 
 he took his pathetic farewell of his pictures, his whole 
 time and thought and affection were given to Art. 
 It was a life very noble in its unity of aim, in its 
 firmness of purpose, in its industry, in its courage 
 before obstacles, in the fulness of its triumph — a 
 life that confers rare distinction upon the man who 
 lived it, and that enriches the annals of the Art he 
 loved. 
 
 The simplicity and modesty of Cox's personal charac- 
 ter were admirably expressed in his house and his mode of 
 living. Plain, homely comfort, in furniture, in dress, in 
 food, was all that he cared for ; he was singularly tem- 
 perate, though never ascetic, nor even markedly abstemi- 
 ous. Neatness and exquisite cleanliness characterised his 
 person and his home ; but there was no luxury, and little 
 ornament. Of books he had very few ; he was not a 
 cultured man, in this aspect of culture ; his education 
 was drawn from the great book of Nature, and this he 
 knew so thoroughly, and loved so well, that he was 
 master of it. He found its lessons hard to construe, 
 sometimes, and harder to interpret ; but if he failed he 
 tried again, with patient humbleness and earnest per- 
 severance, and thus, in each effort, he finally mastered the 
 secret "that lay hidden in the object of his study. Cox 
 never complained, like Fuseli, that " Nature put him 
 
240 DAVID COX. 
 
 out ! " He had learned, rather, with Wordsworth, 
 that — 
 
 " IfatTire never did betray 
 The heart that loved her.". 
 
 It was not until after his death that the world hegan 
 to appreciate David Cox in his full greatness, and to 
 recognise his true place in art. A few discerning critics, 
 and a little band of attached friends, understood him 
 perfectly in his lifetime, but the bulk of people who 
 professed to care for art have only of late years discerned 
 that as a master of English landscape he stands unap- 
 proached save by Turner, and that in some respects he 
 surpassed Turner himself. His range of art is mar- 
 vellous, ahke as to period, to subject, and to manner. For 
 over fifty years he was a painter, skilled in resource, 
 unsurpassed in industry ; there was nothing that he did 
 not include in his works — landscape, figures, buildings, 
 animals, fish, fruit, stiU life, flowers ; the commonest and 
 most familiar aspects of Nature, her subtlest gradations, 
 her sublimest effects, aU found perfect expression by 
 means of his facile and powerful brush. His manner 
 was as varied as his range of subject. His early style 
 was dry, hard, and somewhat formal, but marked by 
 indications of power and freedom that were afterwards 
 to ripen into splendid maturity. In his second manner, 
 or middle period, he exhibited perfect command over 
 materials, elaborate finish, most careful and refined draw- 
 ing, exquisitely tender and even brilliant colour. In his 
 later manner he is full of deeper colour, broad in treatment, 
 grand and striking in effect. Some of the drawings of 
 
INDIVIDUALITY OF HIS WORKS. 241 
 
 tliis period, especially those executed on rough paper, of 
 which, in his later years, he was peculiarly fond, have 
 been disparaged as coarse, dauby, and blotty. But those 
 who study them with care, and get to understand the 
 painter's intentions, cannot fail to recognise their wonder- 
 ful power, and to see in these generalised views of 
 I^ature the work of a perfectly trained hand, and the 
 evidence of a mind full of resource ; the work of a 
 master, indeed, who had the key to the great mystery, 
 and was bent upon plucking out the heart of it. 
 
 Cox was no imitator, no learner from other painters, 
 no follower of a school ; whatever he did had his own 
 individuality stamped full and clear upon it. You pick 
 him out at once, let whatever may be put in competi- 
 tion with him. Even in his merest indications of a 
 subject there is an obvious completeness which few 
 painters attain ; his work is thoroughly studied ; before 
 he begins he knows what he intends to do ; he does 
 it, leaving nothing to chance, or to the help of happy 
 accident, or undesigned effect. Thus his pictures are 
 truthful in the highest sense, and, especially in those 
 of his later years, they have the great quality of 
 suggestiveness, the result of the painter's own powerful 
 imagination, aided by his mastery over execution, and 
 his long and intimate study of the phases of Nature. 
 As Cox himself said of his own works, he strives to 
 exhibit the superiority of mind over mechanism. Yet, 
 though conscious of this aim, he was uniformly modest, 
 and inclined to depreciate his own power. To tbe last 
 he fancied there were secrets known to oil painters 
 
242 DAVID COX. 
 
 which he could never discover. When in London, he 
 thought so little of his powers that he used to destroy 
 many of his drawings, and put the fragments down a 
 sewer grating, in a particular spot, which he once 
 showed to a friend, saying that many of his works had 
 gone down there, and floated off to the Thames. Even 
 in the height of his power he would sometimes destroy 
 a morning's, work at Bettws, tearing up the paper, or 
 painting out on the canvas. He had no trace of con- 
 ceit or self-satisfaction in his work. Though valuing 
 honest praise from those who could judge it, he 
 never allowed the good opinion of his friends to lead 
 him into undue self-appreciation. Simple, as we have 
 seen, in his character, tastes, habits, appearance, and 
 mode of life, he was simple also in the materials he 
 used, always choosing the fewest colours, and those 
 which were tried and proved for endurance; and he 
 was simple likewise in the directness of his purpose, and 
 consequently in the effect of his work. Thus arises one 
 of his greatest charms — the homeliness, and, so to 
 speak, the friendliness of his pictures. Even the 
 grandest of them have this quality. We see in them 
 what he wished us to see, and we see also something 
 of the character of the man himself. In his company 
 we forget the studio, and go straight out of doors, on 
 the moor, into the shady lanes and open fields, among 
 the trees, by the river-side, on the mountain crag ; we 
 stand in the full warm sunlight, or breast the storm, 
 or shrink from the dull chillness of " the level waste, 
 the rounding grey." Throughout the whole series of 
 
REASONS FOB RETURNING TO BIRMINGHAM. 243 
 
 Cox's works there is the same feeling ; it is Nature 
 strongly tinged with his own individuality, that he 
 presents to us — never a mere transcript of outline, or 
 detail, or colour; but a subject carefully chosen, well 
 thought out, enriched with its due effect, heightened 
 by appropriate and studied incident, the fulfilment of 
 a definite purpose, the presentment of some phase of 
 grandeur or beauty, discernible in its completeness 
 only through the mind of the artist himself ; and this 
 so rendered as to suggest more even than it directly 
 conveys. It is thus that he makes friends of those who 
 are alike lovers of Nature and Art. It is thus that he 
 elicits from the most cultivated and the most unin- 
 structed, a response alike in kind, though differing in 
 degree. 
 
 Surprise has been expressed that Cox should have 
 quitted London, with all its attractions and advan- 
 tages, and should have retired to Birmingham, at a 
 period when he might have been expected to take a 
 foremost place amongst water-colour painters in the 
 metropolis. The reasons which induced him to make 
 the change may be readily understood. In London 
 he was largely engaged in teaching, and this occu- 
 pation, never agreeable to him, became hateful as he 
 grew older. Towards the last, it is known that but 
 for the influence of his wife he would often have 
 refused to fulfil his teaching engagements. Sometimes 
 she had literally to take him to the houses at which 
 q2 
 
244 DAVID COX. 
 
 he liad engaged to give lessons ; and it was only on 
 lier account that he consented to submit to the drudgery 
 for so long a period. His great aim, at that period, 
 was to make a secure provision for her, and to lay by 
 something for liis own old age ; for he was keenly sensi- 
 tive to family obligations, and his own sense of personal 
 independence was forcibly developed. No sooner was 
 the object above mentioned fairly secured, than Cox 
 felt an over-mastering desire to break loose from the 
 life of a drawing-master ; and the fact that David Cox 
 the younger was willing to take this work off his 
 hands, and to trust largely to it as a means of living 
 for himself, quickened desire into determination. 
 Freedom was a passion with David Cox ; liberty of 
 movement ; release from regular engagements ; liberty 
 to devote himself wholly to art, and time and means 
 to practise it in his own way, and wherever he would. 
 By returning to Birmingham he secured this object 
 effectually. He lived amongst charming scenery, for the 
 village of Harborne was then a. delightful rural retreat ; 
 he had easy access to his favourite sketching-grounds ; 
 he had perfect mastery of his time and movements ; 
 and he had also, what was essential both to his hap- 
 piness and to his progress in art, the society of a circle 
 of attached and intelligent friends, some of them 
 painters, like himself, and others amateurs of rare cul- 
 tivation and capacity. The artistic society to be found 
 in Birmingham and its neighbourhood was, just 
 then, of a remarkable character. One of the best of 
 English engravers, Mr. WilUam Eadclyffe, one of Cox's 
 
EIS BIRMINGHAM FRIENDS. 245 
 
 oldest friends, lived there. Amongst tlie resident artists 
 were. Mr. Samuel Lines, from whose drawing-school pro- 
 ceeded many painters and engravers of note ; Mr. Hen- 
 shaw, whose fame as a painter of woodland and mountain 
 scenery will probably, some day, equal Cox's own repu- 
 tation ; Mr. Hall, the author of the " Memoirs " now 
 before the reader; Mr. Peter HoUins, sculptor; and Mr. 
 Charles Eadclyffe, the son of the engraver. Besides 
 these there were Mr. William Eoberts, upon whose 
 instruction in oil-painting Cox especially relied, and 
 with whom he maintained close and affectionate inti- 
 macy; Mr. Edward Everitt, an old and faithful artist 
 friend, and an early purchaser of his works ; Mr. 
 Charles Birch, an amateur and collector of note, who 
 had then a fine gallery of works by modern English 
 masters; and, finally, Mr. Charles Hawker, a picture 
 lover, as well as a picture dealer, to whom English Art 
 is indebted in a special manner. This may seem a 
 bold thing to say, but it is true, for Mr. Hawker 
 was one of the earliest dealers to perceive that the 
 modern English School had been too long overshadowed 
 by an excessive regard for the productions of the so- 
 called Old Masters. Holding this belief, and recog- 
 nising the merits of many young English painters, 
 he set himself to the task of making their works 
 popular within the range of his influence. He was, 
 for example, a strong advocate of the works of 
 the Norwich School — the Cromes, Stark, Cotman, Yin- 
 Cent, &c. He brought into Birmingham the first work 
 known there by Miiller (this was as early as 1834), and 
 
246 DAVID COX. 
 
 he afterwards was the means of placing some of Muller's 
 finest works in the galleries of collectors in the Mid- 
 lands. Acting largely on Mr. Hawker's advice, several 
 Birmingham collectors, and others in the neighbour- 
 hood, bought fine samples of such painters as Turner, 
 Etty, Collins, Mulready, Frith, and others ; and to him, 
 in a great measure, was due the formation of Mr. 
 Grillott's famous gallery, Mr. Hawker, in the later years 
 of his life, being intimately associated with Mr. Gillott, 
 and giving his whole attention to that gentleman's collec- 
 tion. The persons above mentioned, with the addition of 
 a few well-known collectors, formed a sort of Cox circle in 
 Birmingham, and, though at first they had hard work 
 to persuade others of the genius of Cox, their own 
 appreciation of him was intense, and their faith in his 
 future fame never wavered. Indeed, they proved the 
 fidelity of their regard by buying Cox's works at the- 
 time when these came repeatedly back unsold, and 
 sometimes unhung, from the exhibitions; and the 
 soundness of their judgment has long since been esta- 
 blished by the general opinion. 
 
 There is no doubt, as Mr. Hall tells us in 
 his Memoir, that Cox derived not only exquisite 
 pleasure, but likewise valuable encouragement and 
 useful hints from those who were his intimates at 
 Birmingham, and the attractions of whose society 
 largely induced him to return finally to his na- 
 tive town. Cox was so modest and self-distrusting 
 that he needed encouragement. It has already been 
 stated that he destroyed drawing after drawing under 
 
mS WIFE'S INFLUENCE UPON HIM. 247 
 
 the impression, that he had made failures where 
 he hoped for successes. Sometimes, also, after he 
 began to work in oil, he would efface the product of a 
 day's labour in a fit of temporary disgust and despair. 
 On this point his old friend Mr. Charles Eadclyffe writes 
 to me : "One great characteristic I well remember of Cox 
 was that if he did not like a picture he seldom altered it. 
 In going through an exhibition with him I would say, ' I 
 don't like that picture, Mr. Cox ; ' then he would rejoin, 
 ' Then why do you look at it ? ' Despondent over his 
 own work, and ever finding much fault with it, he was 
 always tearing up, day after day, to begin again and 
 again. Often he drew tears from .his wife, who would 
 exclaim, ' Don't, David ! don't destroy that drawing,' 
 and would rescue some admirable study which her 
 husband was tearing up, or thrusting into the fire." 
 This reference to his wife is confirmed by another friend 
 of Cox's, Mr. Allen Everitt, the son of one of his oldest 
 friends, who relates that Cox has often told him that, 
 especially in his London life, he never should have done 
 half he actually did, but for his wife's persuasions. He 
 was, Mr. Everitt says, tenderly attached to her; in- 
 deed, he did nothing without her advice, referring to 
 her judgment continually both as to the subjects he 
 took and their treatment. She was a sensible, intelligent 
 woman, with an intense enjoyment of Art, and a high 
 critical faculty, modestly and very quietly expressed. 
 It was her husband's delight to have her near him whilst 
 he painted at home. She used to ^it close to him, in a 
 high-backed chair — Mrs. Cox's chair, it was called — 
 
248 DAVID OOX. 
 
 while lie worked in the bay window of their sitting-room 
 at Greenfield. 
 
 Eeference has been made in Mr. Hall's Memoir 
 to Cox's methods and principles of working. It is 
 interesting to turn to the artist's own observations on 
 these points, as conveyed in his publications and 
 letters. 
 
 In a letter of advice to Mr. David Cox, jun. (Novem- 
 ber 14, 1842), he speaks of his methods of working in 
 water-colours : — 
 
 Try by lamplight a subject in charcoal, and don't be afraid of 
 darks, ^nd work up the subject throughout with charcoal in the darks, 
 middle tint and half, and with some very spirited touches in parts 
 to give a marking. When you have done all this, have your colours 
 quite soft, and colour upon the charcoal. Get all the depth of the 
 charcoal, and be not afraid of the colour. When you look at it by 
 daylight, and clean it with bread, you will find a number of Ught 
 parts which have been left where the colour would not exactly 
 adhere over the charcoal. For a distant mountain I have used 
 cobalt and vermilion ; and in the greyer part I mix a little lake 
 and a small quantity of yeUow ochre with the cobalt. In the middle 
 distance I work each part separately ; in fact, something like mosaic 
 work. The foreground the same, taking care to 'leave the reflected 
 lights clear for a distant cool or bluish tint. I use very senbitive 
 colours for the middle distance — for green, indigo, lake, and 
 gamboge, with its varieties ; occasionally, for the rocks, cobalt, 
 vermilion, or yellow ochre, and sometimes lake instead of the 
 vermilion. In the foreground I use indigo and vandyke brown, and 
 indigo and brown-pink — sometimes add sepia to the indigo and 
 brown-pink. I use for the grey in the sky cobalt and vermilion ; 
 and for the more neutral grey cobalt and light red. 
 
 In another letter to his son David, dated from 
 
EIS ADVICE AS TO THE USE OF COLOURS. 249 
 
 Harborne, December 31, 1845, be describes Ms metliod 
 of working in oil colour : — 
 
 In your darks you ■will use the transparent colours ; and if you 
 were to procure a pot of some fine powder of plaster of Paris to mix 
 with the transparent colours, it assists to give them a substance 
 without making them look opaque. In your greens or half 
 lights also use a little of the plaster of Paris, and so on till you come 
 to the high lights, when you may use Naples yellow, lemon yellow, 
 and also yellow ochre. White, I think, must be cautiously used, 
 only in such sparkling touches as Constable did ; but there are 
 occasions where white must be used, in very pale greens, upon dock 
 leaves, &c. I use the same colour, or nearly the same, for oil as in 
 water ; for instance, light red and cobalt for extreme distances, and 
 so on towards the middle distance, where I should begin with a 
 light Prussian blue and light red, and in the nearer part Prussian 
 blue and burnt Sienna, and a light red, all three together ; and in 
 the foreground bitumen and Prussian blue. The second green, or 
 half lights, with Prussian blue, light red, and yellow ochre, and vary 
 it with raw sienna ; the high lights with an addition of lemon 
 yellow and Naples yellow ; but you will find terra vert and ivory 
 black, or terra vert and raw umber, very good ; terra vert is a most 
 useful colour. Do not use Indian red in your greens ; as I said 
 before, use light red, and work in the compounding of your tints in 
 a very similar way to what you would in water-colour painting. 
 
 Tbe main principles upon whicb. Cox based his 
 works may be gathered from his " Treatise on Land- 
 scape Painting ; " the ideas are manifestly his own, 
 though the dress in which he presented them was 
 probably shaped by some one more accustomed to literary 
 composition : — 
 
 The principal art of landscape painting consists in conveying to 
 the mind the most forcible efiect which can be produced from the 
 various classes of scenery which possess the jsower of exciting an 
 
250 BAriB COX. 
 
 interest superior to tliat resulting from any other effects and which 
 can only be obtained by a most judicious selection of particular 
 tints, and a skilful arrangement and appUcation of them to difference 
 m time, seasons, and situations. This is the grand principle upon 
 which pictorial excellence hinges, as many pleasing objects, the' com- 
 bmation of which render a piece perfect, are frequently passed over 
 by an observer because the whole of the composition is not under the 
 influence of a suitable effect. Thus a cottage or a village scene 
 requires a soft or a simple admixture of tones, calculated to produce 
 pleasure without astonishment. On the contrary, the structures of 
 greatness and antiquity should be marked by a character of awful 
 sublimity, suited to the dignity of the subjects, indenting on the 
 mind a reverential and permanent expression, and giving at once a 
 corresponding and unequivocal grandeur to the pictures. Much 
 depends upon the classification, of the objects, which should wear a 
 magnificent uniformity ; and much on. the colouring, which should 
 be deep and impressive. In the selection of a subject for working, 
 the student should ever keep in view the powerful object which 
 induced him to make the sketch, whether it be mountains, or castle, 
 group of trees, a corn-field, river scene, or any other object. The 
 prominence of this leading feature in the piece should be duly 
 supported throughout ; the character of the picture should be 
 derived from it ; every other object introduced should be subservient 
 to it ; and the attraction of the one should be the attraction of the 
 whole. . . The picture should be complete and perfect in the 
 mind before it is ever traced upon the canvas. 
 
 Again, in " The Young Artist's Companion," he 
 insists upon keeping effect steadily in mind : — 
 
 Abrupt and irregular lines are productive of a grand or strong 
 effect ; while serenity is the result of even and horizontal lines. 
 Morning effect, for instance, may be displayed in any composition, 
 the form and character of which are pleasing to the eye ; wher^ the 
 pendant forms of trees, combined with other objects, communicate to 
 the mind a delightful impression. Owing to the great glare of light 
 in midday effects, hay-fields, corn-fields, or any busy scenes on rivers, 
 are suitable. As regards eve or twilight, such effects being cal- 
 
THE NUMBBB OF HIS WORKS. 251 
 
 culated to convey to the mind the impression of grandeur, the 
 composition should be studied to produce the same ; and the 
 colouring ought to be perfectly in unison with the peaceful repose or 
 the gloomy majesty which contrasts the scene. A flat country on 
 the marshy banks of a winding river should be seen beneath a grey 
 coloured sky. The transient eifect adapted to such a landscape is 
 provided by the fleeting lights of the sunbeams struggling between 
 the interstices of the flowing clouds. The old pollard wUlow is 
 strictly characteristic of this scene, and its situation in the landscape 
 might be such as to carry the eye through all the various meanderings 
 of the stream. In landscapes which are low, and, on the whole, less 
 prolific in interest, and less gratifying to the eye, an additional 
 feature of interest should be thrown into the sky, to aid, by the 
 contrast it would afford, the effect of the whole ; and where the 
 scene itself is naturally full of interest, the picture will, of course, 
 admit of a less beautiful and imposing sky. 
 
 It is impossible to give, with any reasonable approacb 
 to correctness, an estimate of the number of drawings 
 Cox produced in tbe course of his fifty years' practice of 
 art. The fact that he contributed from 1813. down to 
 the year of his death numerous drawings — in some 
 years nearly forty — to the exhibitions of the Water- 
 Colour Society, will enable the reader to form some 
 idea of the total number. But such a computation 
 would, after all, be delusive, for the great majority of 
 Cox's drawings never went to an exhibition at all. 
 They were bought by friends and visitors, and carried 
 away from the artist's painting room ; and, in a great 
 many instances, they still remain in the possession 
 of the original owners. It has already been mentioned 
 that, by such purchases as these, a local dealer had at 
 
252 BAVIB COX. 
 
 one time about eight hundred drawings and sketches in 
 his possession, many of them, of course, unfinished — 
 mere suggestions of colour or form, but a large proportion 
 consisting of works either completely finished or well 
 advanced towards completion. Collections of a hundred 
 drawings were by no means infrequent in Birmingham 
 and the neighbourhood at the period of Cox's death ; 
 and there still remain several collections of importance, 
 though most of those originally formed have ' been 
 disposed of on account of the death of their owners, or 
 under the strong temptation of the high prices realised 
 in 1872. It is probably within the truth to say that 
 the number of Cox's drawings is so great, and their 
 dispersion so wide-spread, that every collection of works 
 of art, of any importance, throughout the kingdom, 
 contains one or more examples of them ; excepting, it 
 must be said, and not without shame, the National 
 Gallery, in which no specimen of Cox's work is to be 
 found, though there are a few, but comparatively unim- 
 portant, examples in the collection at South Kensington 
 Museum. The principal original collectors, those who 
 bought Cox's draAvings during the artist's life, and whose 
 collections have since been dispersed by sale, were Mr. 
 Charles Birch (sales in 1856 and 1857), Mr. Norman 
 Wilkinson (1861), Mr. William Eoberts (1867), Mr. 
 Peter Allen (1869), Mr. Thomas Brown (1869), Mr. 
 Edwin Bullock (1870), Mr. J. TattersaU (1872). To 
 these must be added Mr. Gillott, the sale of whose 
 collection took place in 1872; but who bought only 
 two or three ^^ orks by Cox while the painter was living. 
 
COLLECTIONS OF EI8 W0BE8. 253 
 
 though he "was a large purchaser afterwards. Details of 
 the sales just mentioned will be found in Mr. Solly's 
 "Life of Cox." Since 1872 there have been few sales 
 of importance, excepting Mr. Quilter's, which, it is 
 understood, did not include his best works by Cox ; the 
 sale by the artist's son, the present Mr. David Cox ; and 
 the sale of Mr. F. Timmins' collection. 
 
 The dispersion of Cox's drawings, above referred to, 
 prevents any complete enumeration of existing collec- 
 tions. Amongst the largest are those of Mr. Ellis, of 
 Streatham (Cox's executor), Mr. W. Quilter, and Mr. F. 
 Nettlefold, of London, Mr. J. D. Perrins, of Malvern, 
 and Mr. Holbrook GaskeU, of Liverpool. Important 
 collections are also in the hands of Messrs. Agnew, Mr. 
 Alfred Betts and Mrs. Hyla Betts, Birmingham, Mrs. 
 BuUock, Handsworth, Birmingham, Mr. George Graham, 
 Birmingham, Mr. E. Harvey, Liverpool, Mr. J. Hen- 
 derson, London, Mr. E. Leake, Manchester, Mr. G. W. 
 Moss, Liverpool, Mr. P. H. Eathbone, Liverpool, Mr. 
 J. E. Taylor, Manchester and London, Mr. G. E. Prange, 
 Liverpool, and the artist's son, Mr. David Cox. 
 
 Cox's oil pictures can be more accurately enu- 
 merated, and their present locality stated. There is 
 no precise record of the number ; but those who are 
 best qualified to judge — ^his intimate friends, Mr. C. 
 W. Eadclyffe, and the late Mr. WUliam HaU— 
 estimate the total at a little over one hundred. Of 
 these, fifty-seven were exhibited at Liverpool in 1875. 
 The principal possessors of Cox's oil pictures are Mr. 
 P. Nettlefold, of London; Mr. J. H. Nettlefold, of 
 
254 DAVID COX. 
 
 King's Heath, near Birmingham ; and Mrs. Edward 
 Nettlefold, of Edgbaston, Birmingham. Between 
 them, these members of the Nettlefold family are the 
 owners of probably three-fourths of the oil pictures. 
 Amongst these are — " The Skylark," " Bolton Park," 
 "The Hayfield," "Windsor Castle," "The Salmon 
 Trap," " Dudley Castle," " Haymaking near Conway," 
 "Bolton Abbey," belonging to Mr. E. Nettlef old ; 
 "Ehyl Sands," "Changing Pasture," "Skirts of the 
 Eorest," " Waiting for the Ferry," " Going to the 
 Hayfield," and a number of smaller works, belonging 
 to Mr. J. H. Nettlefold ; and the " Welsh Funeral," 
 " Cross Eoads," and " Mill near Lichfield," and others, 
 belonging to Mrs. E. Nettlefold. The Nettlefold 
 family also possess a large collection of Cox's finest 
 drawings. 
 
 Something should be said of the prices realised by 
 Cox for his works. It is not a pleasant subject, this 
 talk, now far too frequent, of the money gains of 
 painters, yet with regard to Cox it is essential, for 
 without reference to the pay he received, the reader 
 would fail thoroughly to understand two things about 
 him : first, the long, and hard, and wearying task of 
 making a bare living, until he was well past middle 
 age ; and second, the marvellous advance in the public 
 estimate of his art, so far as this can be measured by 
 the prices given since his death for his works. The 
 modesty of the man himself, his self -distrust, his habit 
 
EI8 EABLY PRICES: 1811—1818. 255 
 
 of putting .art foremost and profit after, may also be 
 gathered from such a review. The earliest record of 
 Cox's prices is a mere curiosity : it is literally a bill 
 made out to a theatre manager at Wolverhampton, for 
 310 yards of scenery, at 4s. per square yard. This 
 was done when he was twenty-five, soon after his 
 removal from Birmingham to London. Of the sales 
 of drawings, the earliest record is in, 1811, when 
 Mr. Everitt, of Birmingham, bought from him 
 twelve sepia drawings at 8s. each ; and seventeen 
 drawings in colours, for eighteen guineas the lot ! In 
 the next year, he sells drawings at prices varying 
 from 10s. 6d. to £1 lis. 6d. In 1814, the year after 
 he was elected a member of the "Water-Colour Society, 
 Mr. Everitt bought from him ten drawings for £12. 
 In the same year, so doubtful was his chance of living 
 by practice as an artist, that he was glad to take an 
 engagement as teacher of drawing at Miss Croucher's 
 school at Hereford, at a stipend of £100 a year, for 
 which he undertook to give lessons twice a week. 
 Two years later he enters in his account-book a charge 
 of £17 17s. (including entrance fees) for " half a 
 year's instruction to five young ladies " at Miss Poole's 
 school at Hereford ; and he sells to Miss Poole herself 
 five drawings for £2 12s. 6d. His prices remained at 
 much the same humble standard for a considerable 
 time. In 1818, for example, Mr. Everitt buys six 
 Indian-ink drawings at 7s. each ; and Messrs. Fuller, 
 of London, give him 8s. each for twenty -five sepia 
 drawings, and £1 6s. each for drawings in colours. 
 
256 DAVIB COX. 
 
 These were heart-breaking terms for a man who was 
 conscious of genius, and who had taken a recognised 
 position amongst water-colour painters ; but, bad as 
 they were. Cox had to put up with them for years 
 longer. In 1825 — he was then forty-two years old — 
 he sold to Mr. "William EadclyfEe (the engraver of his 
 studies for the " Warwickshire " and the " North and 
 South "Wales ") small drawings at £1 5s., and larger 
 ones at £6 6s. In one instance, in this year, he rose as 
 high as £12 12s. for a large drawing of "Cader Idris." 
 At the same time, however, he received only two and 
 three guineas from Messrs. Fuller for each sheet of 
 etchings for his art publications — poor pay indeed, when 
 compared with the amount such work would obtain 
 from the publishers now. Nor was he more successful 
 in the exhibitions. In the year just mentioned (1827), 
 he sent seventeen drawings to the Water-Colour So- 
 ciety's Exhibition. They were varied enough in subject 
 to please all tastes; for they included EngHsh and 
 Welsh views, coast and inland scenery, mountain and 
 moor, figure studies as weU. as landscape. But they did 
 not sell ; and, in a fit of disgust and despair. Cox 
 withdrew the whole of them, by the simple but effective 
 method of going round and himself marking them 
 "sold." This was a passing feeling, however. Cox 
 was a brave and patient man, and usually bore his want 
 of success without repining, or, at least, without show- 
 ing that he felt it. That he did feel it, keenly, there is 
 no doubt ; for on leaving Hereford for London, in 1827, 
 he wrote to his old friend Mr. Eadclyffe, asking " if he 
 
PRICES OF EIS WORKS: 1830—1847. 257 
 
 did not think it would be better for him to go to 
 Cheltenham, and make small drawings, which he could 
 sell to the visitors at iive shillings each ? " By degrees 
 his position and prospects mended, though slowly and 
 poorly at the best. 
 
 In 1830 there is an entry of the sale of five drawings 
 to Mr. Everitt for £12 ; next year four drawings sold in 
 the Liverpool exhibition for £23 10s. — ^just under £6 
 each. In 1837 his highest price for small drawings — 
 quarto imperial size — was £6 6s. Even as lately as 
 1845, after his removal to Birmingham, and when he was 
 over sixty years of age, he had scarcely reached the point, 
 in regard to prices, at which young artists of promise 
 now begin, for in that year he made a large drawing of 
 Carnarvon Bay for his friend Mr. Birch, for £19 19s., a 
 smaller drawing of a lane scene for £8 8s., and a large 
 drawing — probably imperial size — for £25. In 1846 one 
 of his most famous oil pictures, the " Peace and "War " — 
 18 in. by 24 in . — was painted. Cox's estimate of its value 
 was £20, for which he sold it to Mr. Thomas Darby. 
 He re-sold it for £25. Then, after the painter's death, 
 Mr. Gillott bought it, together with another picture, 
 for £650. At the sale of Mr. Gillott's collection, in 
 1872 — the year in which the competition for Cox's 
 works was at its height — the " Peace and War " brought 
 £3,601, the purchaser being Mr. Montague Gillott, who 
 had a hard struggle to obtain it. In 1847, in one of his 
 letters. Cox mentions with delight that he is to have 70 
 guineas for an oil picture — his ordinary price for a 
 medium-sized work in oil was then £40. One of his 
 
258 DAVID GOX. 
 
 studies of a " Hayfield," in oU, painted in that year for a 
 Birmingham dealer, at £40, brought a few years later 
 £1,550 ; another work of the same year, the " Old Mill 
 at Bettws," also sold by the painter for £40, brought 
 £1,575 after his death. 
 
 In 1846, one of his largest works in oU, "The Vale 
 of Clwyd" (56 inches by 39 inches), was priced by him 
 at £95. This picture was exchanged with Mr. Nixon, a 
 Birmingham dealer and frame maker, for an unfinished 
 work by Miiller. Mr. Nixon sold it for £70, such was 
 then the " trade " estimate of Cox's money value. In 
 1868 it was re-sold for £480, and soon afterwards Mr. 
 W. Sharp of Endwood Court, Hands worth, Birmingham, 
 gave £580 for it. In his possession it remained until 
 1872, when Mr. M'Lean, of the Haymarket, bought it 
 for £2,000. Of this picture a fine etching, by M. 
 Brunet Debaines, was issued in 1879. Perhaps the 
 most notable illustration of the difference between Cox's 
 prices and the sums his works have since realised, is 
 afforded by liis oil picture of " The Skylark," usually 
 and justly regarded as one of his very finest produc- 
 tions ; perhaps, indeed, his very best. This work was 
 painted in 1849, and was exhibited at Birmingham, in the 
 rooms of the Society of Artists, where it was bought 
 by Mr. E. A. Butler, a local dealer and collector, and 
 a good friend and admirer of Cox, for £40. Mr. Butler 
 sold it some time afterwards, but the purchaser repented 
 of the bargain, and the picture was taken back. In 
 1859, the year of the painter's death, it was bought by 
 Mr. S. Mayou, a Birmingham collector, for £50; and 
 
SIS HIGHEST PRICE: 1864. 259 
 
 Mr. Mayou kept it until the memorable year 1872, 
 when he sold it for £2,300 to Mr. Frederick Nettlefold, 
 of London, in whose possession, as the gem of his 
 collection, it still remains. It is needless, however — 
 as needless as it is distasteful — 'to multiply examples of 
 the prices realised by the artist himself, as compared 
 with those since obtained in " the picture market." 
 One more illustration will be enough : it is that of 
 "The Sea-shore at Rhyl." This picture, painted in 
 1855, brought the artist the highest price he ever 
 received for any work — namely, £100, for which it was 
 sold in the Liverpool exhibition, in 1864. Five years 
 after the painter's death it was sold for £150 ; prices 
 had not then gone up. Ultimately — of course, in 1872 
 — it realised the sum of £2,800. How greatly Cox 
 would have been amazed at this increased money-value 
 of his works may be inferred from a letter written by 
 him in 1849 :— 
 
 I went [he says] to sale of pictures on Tuesday [the note is dated 
 March 15th] at Mr. Butler's, at Handsworth, his country-house ; 
 they are all modern, and nearly all by Birmingham artists. There 
 were five of mine ; they fetched more than the price they cost him, 
 even with the frames. 
 
 As late as 1853 he w;rites : — 
 
 Several of my small pictures, nine inches by fourteen inchps. 
 which I have sold for £5, have been sold for £15, and others at the 
 same proportion ; other pictures which I received £40 each for sold 
 for £75. I have given notice to one or two friends that I would not 
 take any more commissions at the price I have hitherto had. 
 
 In the same year he writes with sadness, and surely 
 R 2 
 
260 BAriB COX. 
 
 with a touch of justifiable warmth : — "I am now confined 
 to my bed-room — a most violent attack of bronchitis, 
 which nearly sufibcates me at times. If I should be 
 spared I will get rid of some commissions and make 
 no more promises, but merely go out when I please, and 
 paint what I please. It is no use my working for some ; 
 they are rather too selfish, and hurry me to paint faster 
 than it is possible. Perhaps they are aware that if I 
 should die they wiU not be able to procure any more. 
 Some who have not set that value upon my small bits, 
 have parted with them at an advance of two hundred 
 per cent., and in some cases more." In another letter 
 written iu the same year, he again returns to the subject. 
 Eeferring to the Water-Colour Society's Exhibition he 
 says : — 
 
 I hope to be in London on the 3rd of May, and then I will take 
 out of the price book the sums I have asked for my four large 
 drawings, and if there are those of the public who appreciate mind 
 before mechanism, they will write to me to learn how I estimate- 
 them. I may be wrong, hut the world has yet to be taught. Perhaps 
 I may be made vain by some here , [this letter was written from 
 Harborne] who think my " Summit of a Mountain " worth — I am 
 almost afraid to say — £100 ; and if I could paint it in oil, I shall 
 some day [D.V.] get that sum. 
 # 
 He did once reach this wonderful ideal, as we 
 have already seen ; but only once. That he should 
 think it so marvellous is the clearest illustration of 
 his modest estimate of his own worth, and, perhaps, 
 of his carelessness of mere money getting; but he 
 always felt great hesitation as to raising his prices. 
 His ordinary and latest charge for a small drawing — 
 
EI8 FEELING ABOUT MONEY. 261 
 
 quarto imperial size — was £10; and for a drawing of 
 imperial size — his exhibition size — £40. These were 
 his prices for finished works. Studies and sketches 
 were scattered broadcast at much lower rates. Some- 
 times — not improbably by those who failed to reap an 
 advantage by him — Cox was reproached with a want of 
 liberality in money matters. He was near and close, 
 they said. The imputation cannot be justified. He 
 was careful, doubtless ; those who have read this record 
 of his gains will see that he had need to be careful. He 
 had struggled so hard, and his earnings had been so 
 limited, and his savings so modest, that he might well 
 keep firm hold upon what he could save. But, as all 
 who had personal knowledge of him are well aware, he 
 was generous in his kindly charities, and was liberal in 
 professional dealings. When those who wanted advice 
 in matters of art came to him and asked for it, he gave 
 it freely, though his time was precious. He gave help, 
 also, in a substantial way ; and he gave away drawings, 
 frequently as free gifts, and often at prices which made 
 them practical gifts. 
 
 To the last he asked the most moderate prices for his 
 finest works — think of £100 being the highest sum he 
 ever asked or had ! — he never pressed any man to buy 
 from him — he had in his character no trace of the 
 money-hunter. No speculation tempted him ; no expe- 
 dient to make his money breed profit had any fascination 
 for him ; his one and only desire was to provide enough 
 for his old age, if the power of work should faU, and to 
 leave a modest bequest to those who might be dependent 
 
262 BArin cox. 
 
 upon him. So mucli as he could get went quietly into 
 the Three Per Cents, and stopped there; Cox being 
 content, so that the money was safe, and that no 
 thought of it drew away his thoughts from Art. When 
 he died, in his seventy-seventh year, after a life of 
 unceasing industry — for he never slackened and never 
 idled, working, indeed, as hard as Turner himself — he 
 left about £12,000, the result of being before the public 
 for fifty years as an exhibiting artist. A painter of the 
 first rank would' now make nearly, if not quite as much, 
 in a single year. Two or three of his own oil pictures 
 and half a dozen of his best drawings, now that he is 
 dead, would sell for the whole amount he saved in half 
 a century of unremitting labour. 
 
 But in his day painters had none of the great 
 chances, at least Cox himself had none. The world, as he 
 said, had indeed to be taught — it had to leam the 
 intrinsic worth of creations of genius, the value of 
 which cannot be expressed in money. In Cox's case the 
 lesson has been learnt, rapidly and amply. Those who 
 care to trace the progress of it may do so in the 
 catalogues of sales held since the painter's death.* One. 
 thing should be said for David Cox, and said to his 
 honour. Throughout life he was industrious, self-respect- 
 ing, and thoroughly independent. His living was 
 wrought with his own hand and brain ; he never begged 
 or borrowed ; he evaded no obligation, and denied no 
 
 * Details of the principal sales, too lengthy to be incorporated here, will 
 be found in the "Memoir of David Cox," by Mr. Neal Solly, in which 
 notes on his principal works are also given. 
 
ENGRAVINGS FROM HIS WORKS. 263 
 
 just claim ; no man was the poorer for him, but many- 
 were the richer ; and not once did he break into com- 
 plaint that to him art was not the bringer of wealth. 
 To his honest simple nature it was enough to earn his 
 daily bread, to provide modestly for those dependent 
 upon him, to put by something if need be for old age, 
 to find pleasure in the affection and appreciation of a 
 few intimate friends, and to reap his great reward in the 
 secrets which Nature revealed to him, and with which, 
 through Art, he enriched the world. 
 
 It is a curious fact that the works of David Cox 
 have been most sparingly reproduced by means of 
 engraving. No English painter of eminence has been 
 made so little known by this means. Yet, as the few 
 examples we have sufl&ciently prove. Cox's drawings and 
 oil pictures would well repay the engraver's labour. 
 Eeproductions of Cox, especially of his drawings in 
 sepia, in the manner of Turner's " Liber Studiorum," 
 would be of the highest interest and value. At one 
 time such a work was contemplated. Cox himself, who 
 greatly admired Turner, was fired with a generous 
 emulation by the " Liber Studiorum," and made pre- 
 parations for publishing a " Gox Studiorum." For this 
 purpose he selected about one hundred sepia drawings ; 
 but the design, from some unexplained cause, was laid 
 aside, and was never resumed by. him. After the 
 painter's death, another proposal of this kind was made 
 
264 DAVIB COX. 
 
 by Mr. Edward Eadclyffe, who began to execute some 
 plates for tbe work, and who could, better perhaps than 
 any other engraver, have given the world a rendering of 
 Cox adequate to the master's merits, and worthy of his 
 fame. But Mr. Eadclyffe's untimely death put an end 
 to this labour of love ; all he had been able to do for it 
 were three plates since published by the Liverpool Art 
 Club. Now that etching has come so greatly into 
 vogue, and that we have so many admirable etchers in 
 this country, it is greatly to be desired that some of 
 them should undertake the execution of a " Cox Stu- 
 diorum." Etching is peculiarly the method adapted 
 to the rendering of his works, in aU their ease and 
 freedom ; their suggestive quality could thus be realised 
 to perfection ; and no better means could be taken to 
 make the public acquainted with the infinite variety, 
 the grace, the tenderness, and the power of the man who, 
 next to Turner, has done most to record and to interpret 
 the charms of English landscape. As matters stand, 
 however. Cox is scarcely known through the medium of 
 engraving. The subjoined list, 'it is believed, includes 
 all that has been done for him in the way of repro- 
 duction : — 
 
 1829. — " Warwickshire Illustrated." PubUshed by Messrs. Knott, Birming- 
 ham. Engraved by William RadclyflEe, from drawings made by 
 Cox and others. The collection of original drawings is now the 
 property of the Birmingham and Midland Institute. 
 
 ? 1835. — " Wanderings in North Wales." By Thomas Roscoe. Fifty-one 
 plates, engraved by William Radclyffie, from drawings by Cox, 
 Creswick, Cattermole, and others. Published by Messrs. Wright- 
 son and Webb, Birmingham. 
 
 1837. — " Wanderings in South Wales and the River Wye." By Thomas 
 
LIST OF ENGBAVED WOBES. 265 
 
 Eiosooe. Forty-eight plates, engraved by "William RadclyfEe from 
 drawings by Cox, J. D. Harding, Copley Fielding, Creswick, and 
 others. Published by Messrs. Wrightson and Webb, Birming- 
 ham. 
 
 1862-3. — Twelve line engravings. By Edward Radclyffe. Issued by the 
 Art Union of London. 
 
 1866.—" Hay Time." Engraved by Edward RadclyfEe, and published iu 
 The Art Journal. ' 
 
 1868. — " Carreg Cennen." Engraved by W. Chapman, and published in 
 The Art Jowrnal. 
 
 1876. — Cox " Liber Studiorum." Three engravings by Edward RadclyfEe. 
 1. Dudley Castle. 2. The Outskirts of a Forest. 3. Bala Lake. 
 Published by Messrs. Oolnaghi, for the Liverpool Art Club. Im- 
 pression restricted to 150 copies. 
 
 1877. — Hardwick Hall. Etched by M. Brunet Debaines. Published in 
 The Portfolio. 
 
 1879.— " The Vale of Clwyd." Etched by M. Brunet Debaines. Published 
 by Mr. M'Lean, Haymarket. Impression restricted to 125 copies. 
 
 1875.— " Memoirs" of David Cox. By N. Neal Solly. Illustrated with 
 sixteen photographs from Cox's drawings. Published by Messrs. 
 Chapman and Hall. 
 
 Besides these, there is an engraving of one of the 
 drawings of "Lancaster Sands," by Eobert Brandard; 
 and one of "Fishing Boats," by A. Willmore; and, so 
 far as the writer has been able to ascertain, these com- 
 plete the list, with the exception of a few wood en- 
 gravings. 
 
 Cox's own publications are aU of comparatively early 
 date, and are now very rarely to be met with. If the 
 plates are still in existence they well deserve re-issue, for 
 they show that Cox possessed remarkable skiU as an 
 engraver. The following, it is believed, is a complete 
 list of them : — 
 
 1814. — " Treatise on Landscape Painting, and EfEect in 'Water-Colours." 
 Published by S. and J. Fuller, Rathbone Place, London. This 
 contains twenty -five pages of etchings, and " thirty -two pages of 
 
266 DAriB COX. 
 
 aquatint drawings. Several editions of the work were issued ; 
 
 the latest in 1840. 
 1820. — Six Yiews in the City of Bath, engraved from Cox's drawings- 
 
 Same publishers. 
 1825. — "The Young Artist's Companion : or Drawing-book of Studies and 
 
 Landscape Embellishment." Published by Messrs. Puller. This 
 
 contains forty pages of etchings, and twenty-four of aquatint 
 
 drawings. 
 1828. — " A Series of Progpressive Lessons, intended to Elucidate the Art 
 
 of Landscape Painting in Water-Colours." Published by T. Clay, 
 
 London. This contains twelve plates. 
 1830.—" View of the County HaU, Hereford." PubKshed at Hereford. 
 
 Drawn on stone by Cox,; the only lithograph he is known to have 
 
 made. 
 
 Mr. Solly (" Life of Cox," p. 60) mentions that in 
 1845 Cox made several lithotiats from some of Ms works, 
 with the intention of issuing a collection of them, but 
 they were never published. 
 
 This is the fitting place in which to mention the 
 special exhibitions held from time to time of Cox's works. 
 Attention was called to them in a marked degree by 
 the collection shown in 1857, at the Manchester Art 
 Treasures Exhibition. In the following year — 1858 — 
 a collection was made and shown at the rooms of the 
 Hampstead Conversazione. This was promoted by the 
 late Mr. Tom Taylor ; and Mr. John Hollingsworth, of 
 Birmingham, who at one time possessed about 800 
 drawings and sketches by Cox, lent many of his choicest 
 examples for it. In 1859, the year of the painter's 
 death, 169 of Cox's works were shown at the Grerman 
 Grallery, New Bond Street. There was another exhibi- 
 tion at Manchester in 1870 ; and finally, in 1875, the 
 Liverpool Art Club made their great collection, which 
 
TEi: SIGN-BOABD AT THE " BOYAL OAK." 267 
 
 is sufficiently described in Mr. Hall's Memoir. In Bir- 
 mingham, strange to say — the painter's birth-place, his 
 residence for the best part of his life, and the constant 
 home of his affections — no exhibition of his works has 
 ever been attempted. 
 
 The sign-board painted by Cox for the " Eoyal 
 Oak " at Bettws, the painting and character of which 
 are recorded in Mr. Hall's Memoir— has lately been the 
 subject of litigation. The sign was years ago taken 
 down from outside the house, and was hung in the hall. 
 In the course of last year Mr. Thomas, the then tenant 
 of the hotel, filed a petition in bankruptcy, and the 
 trustee of his estate claimed the sign-board as a valu- 
 able asset. The claim was disputed by Lady Willoughby 
 d'Eresby, the owner of the Grwydyr estates, of which 
 the hotel at Bettws forms part, and the sign-board was 
 on her behalf demanded as the property of the ground 
 landlord. The judge of the Carnarvonshire County 
 Court decided the case in favour of Lady Willoughby' s 
 claim. An appeal was taken to Sir J. Bacon, the Chief 
 Judge in Bankruptcy, who, on the 13th December, 
 1880, gave judgment in favour of the creditors, and 
 reversed the decision of the county court judge. On 
 further appeal, in February, 1881, Sir J. Bacon's de- 
 cision was reversed, and it was thus finally decided that 
 the sign-board, painted by the artist for the "Royal 
 Oak," belongs to the owner of the hotel ; and conse- 
 quently remains there. 
 
 A table of the leading dates in the artist's life very 
 fitly closes these desultory notes : — 
 
268 BAVIB COX. 
 
 LEADING DATES IN COX'S LIFE. 
 
 1783. — Born, Heath Mill Lane, Deritend, Binningham, April 29th. 
 
 1798. — ^Apprenticed to a Miniature Painter. 
 
 1800. — Employed at the Birmingham Theatre. 
 
 1804. — First Residence in London, originally in Lambeth, afterwards at 
 
 Dulwich. 
 1805. — ^First Journey into North Wales. 
 
 1813. — Elected member of Society of Painters in Water-Colours. 
 1814. — Removal to Hereford. 
 
 1827. — Second Residence in London, at 9, Foxley Road, Kenniugtou. 
 1841. — Removal to Harbome, near Birmingham. 
 1856.— Visit to Edinburgh, to sit to Sir J. Watson Gordon. 
 1859.— Death. 
 
 1826. — Visit to Holland and Belgium. 
 
 1829. — First visit to Prance. 
 
 1832. — Second visit to France. 
 
 1844. — First Sketching visit to Bettws-y-coed. 
 
 1856. — Last visit to Bettws. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 ,The Life of Christ. 
 
 By the Rev. F. W. Farrar, D.D., F.R.S., Canon of Westminster, and 
 Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen. 
 
 Popular Edition, in One Vol., cloth, 63.; cloth gilt, gilt edges, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Library Edition. ■z%tli. Edition, Two Vols. , cloth, 24s. ; morocco, ^2 2S . 
 
 Illustrated Edition. With about 300 Illustrations. Extra crown 4to, 
 cloth, gilt edges, 21s.; calf or morocco, ;^2 2s. 
 
 The Life and Work of St. Paul. 
 
 By the Rev. F. W. Farrar, D.D., F.R.S., Canon of Westminster, and 
 Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen, \^th Thousand. Two Vols., demy 
 8vo, cloth, 24s.; morocco, ^2 2s. 
 
 THE NEW BIBLE COMMENTARY. 
 
 New Testament Commentary for English Readers. 
 
 Edited by the Right Rev. C. J. Elucott, D.D., Lord Bishop of Gloucester 
 and Bristol. Three Vols., cloth, ;^3 3s. ; or in half-morocco, £i^ 14s. 6d. 
 
 Vol. I. conlains THE FOUR GOSPELS. £,\ is. 
 
 Vol. II. contains THE ACTS to GALATIANS. {,x is. 
 
 Vol. III. contains the EPHESIANS to the REVELATION. {,1 is. 
 
 The Half-Guinea Illustrated Bible. 
 
 Containing 900 Original Illustrations. Crown 4to, cloth, los. 6d. Also in 
 Leather Bindings in great variety. 
 
 The Bible Educator. 
 
 Edited by the Rev. E. H. Plumptre, D.D. Illustrated. Four Vols., 6s. 
 each; or Two Vols., 21s.; or in library binding, £\ 4s. 
 
 The Family Prayer- Book. 
 
 Edited by the Rev. Canon Garbett, M.A., and the Rev. Samuel Martin. 
 Extra crown 4to, cloth, 5s. 
 
 Sunday Musings. 
 
 A Selection of Readings — Biblical, Devotional, and Descriptive— from the 
 writings of the best authors. Illustrated. 832 pp., demy 4to, cloth, 21s. 
 
 The Church at Home. 
 
 A Series of Short Sermons, with Collect and Scripture for Sundays, Saints' 
 Days, and Special Occasions. By the Right Rev. Rowley Hill, D.D., 
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 New Testament, Companion to the Revised Version 
 
 of the English. By Alexander Roberts, D.D. Price 2s.' 6d. 
 
 Proverbial Philosophy, Illustrated Edition of 
 
 By Martin F. Tupper, M.A., D.C.L., F.R.S. Illustrated throughout. 
 Extra crown 4to, gilt edges, los. 6d. 
 
 The History of Protestantism. 
 
 By the Rev. J. A. Wylie, LL.D. With 600 Original Illustrations. Three 
 Vols., 4to, cloth, £\ 7s. ; or in library binding, £\ los. 
 
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 3 
 
Selections from Cassell, Fetter, Galpiii ^ Co.'s Volumes {Continued). 
 
 Evangeline. 
 
 Edition de Luxe. With 23 magnificent Original Illustrations by Frank 
 DiCKSEE, A.R.A., 15 of which are beautifully reproduced in Photogravure 
 by Messrs. Goupil of Paris. The work is printed on Whatman's hand-made 
 paper, size l6jin. by 12;^ in., the Wood Engravings being on real China 
 paper. %* Further particulars, with price, &'c., may l>i obtained of any 
 Bookseller, or on apflication to the Fublishers. 
 
 The Magazine of Art. 
 
 Volume IV. {Being the First Volume of the Enlarged Series.) With about 
 400 Illustrations by the first Artists of the day. A beautifully-executed 
 Etching, "The Trio," from a Painting by Erskine Nicol, A.K.A., etched 
 by L4LAUZE, forms the Frontispiece. Cloth gilt, gilt edges, i6s. 
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 Picturesque Europe. 
 
 Complete in Five Vols. Each containing Thirteen Exquisite Steel Plates 
 from Original Drawings, and nearly 200 Original Illustrations. With De- 
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 Pictures of Bird Life in Pen and Pencil. 
 
 With Illustrations by GiACOMELLl. Imperial 4to, 21s. 
 
 Landscape Painting in Oils, A Course of Lessons in. 
 
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 Morocco : Its People and Places. 
 
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 Longfellow's Poetical Works. 
 
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 4 
 
Selections from Casselt, Pettei; Galpm # Co.V Votumes [Continued*]. 
 
 The Book of the Horse. 
 
 By S. Sidney. With TwenCy-five Coloured Plates, and loo Wood Engrav- 
 ings. New and Revised Edition. Demy 4to, cloth, 31s. 6d. ; half- morocco, 
 /2 2S. \ 
 
 The Illustrated Book of Poultry. 
 
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 Demy4to, cloth, 31s. 6d. ; half-morocco, ;^2 2s. 
 
 The Illustrated Book of Pigeons. 
 
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 numerous Engravings! Demy 4to, cloth, 31s. 6d.; half- morocco, ^2 2s. 
 
 Canaries and Cage-Birds, The Illustrated Book of 
 
 With Fifty-six Coloured Plates and numerous Illustrations. Demy 4to, cloth, 
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 Dairy Farming. "; 
 
 By Prof. Sheldon, assisted by eminent Authorities. With Twenty-five Fac- 
 simile Coloured Plates, and numerous Wood Engravings. Cloth, 31s. 6d.; 
 half-morocco, £,1 2s. 
 
 Illustrated Book of the Dog. 
 
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 European Ferns: their Form, Habit, and Culture. 
 
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 Familiar Garden Flowers. 
 
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 Familiar Wild Flowers. 
 
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 The Wild White Cattle of Great Britain. 
 
 An Account of their Origin, History, and Present State. By the late Rev. 
 John Storer, M.A. Illustrated. Cheap Edition, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Cassell's New Natural History. 
 
 Edited by Prof. Duncan, M. B., F. R.S., assisted by Eminent Writers. Illus- 
 trated throughout. "Vols. I., II., III., IV., and V., gs. each. 
 
 The World of the Sea. 
 
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 Ostrich Farming in South Africa. 
 
 By Arthur Douglass. Illustrated. Cloth, 6s. 
 
 CasseU, Fetter, Calf in <£• Co. : Ludgate Hill, London ; Puris ; and New York. 
 
 5 
 
Selections from Cassetl, Petter, Galpin <t Coh Volumes (Continued]. 
 
 The Encyclopaedic Dictionary. 
 
 By Robert Hunter, M.A., F.G.S., Mem. Bibl. Archoeol. Soc, &c. A 
 New and Original Work of Reference to all the Words in the English 
 Language, with a Full Account of their Origin, Meaning, Pronunciation, and 
 Use. Vol. I., Parts I and 2, cloth, IDs. 6d. each. 
 
 Library of English Literature. 
 
 Edited by Prof. Henry Morley. With Illustrations taken from Original 
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 Vol. I. SHORTER ENGLISH POEMS. 12s. 6d. 
 
 Vol. II. ILLUSTRATIONS of ENGLISH religion. 115. 6d. 
 
 Vol. III. ENGLISH PL.4YS. iis. 6d. 
 
 Vol. IV. SHORTER WORKS IN ENGLISH PROSE, iis. 6d. 
 
 Vol. V. LONGER WORKS IN ENGLISH VERSE .\ND PROSE, iis. 6d. 
 
 Dictionary of English Literature. 
 
 Being a Comprehensive Guide to English Authors and their Works. By W. 
 Davenport Adams. 720 pages, extra fcap. 4to, cloth, los. 6d. 
 
 A First Sketch of English Literature. 
 
 By Professor Henry Morley. Crown 8vo, 912 pages, cloth, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 
 
 Giving the Derivation, Source, or Origin of 20,000 Words that have a Tale 
 to Tell. By Rev. Dr. Brewer. Enlarged and Cheaper Eaition, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Popular Educator, Cassell's. 
 
 New and thoroughly Revised Edition. Vols. I. and II ., price 5s. each. (To 
 be completed in Six Vols.) 
 
 The Leopold Shakspere. 
 
 The Poet's Works in Chronological Order, and an Introduction by F. J. 
 FURNIVALL. With about 400 Illustrations. Small 4to, los. 6d. ; cloth gilt, 
 I2s. 6d. Dedicated by permission to H.R.H. Prince Leopold. 
 
 Cassell's Illustrated Shakespeare. 
 
 Edited by Charles and Mary Cowden Clarke. With 600 Illustrations 
 by H. C. Selous. Three Vols., cloth gilt,;^3 3s. 
 
 Figure Painting in Water Colours, 
 
 With Sixteen Coloui'ed Plates from Original Designs by Blanche Mac- 
 arthur (Medallist, Royal Academy, 1877,) and Jennie Moore (Medallist). 
 With full Instructions by the Painters. Crown 410, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 Flower Painting in Water Colours. 
 
 With Twenty Fac-simile Coloured Plates from Original Designs by F. E. 
 Hulme. With Instructions. Interleaved with Drawing Paper. Crown 4to, 5s. 
 
 Sketching from Nature in Water Colours. 
 
 By Aaron Penley. With Illustrations in Chromo-Lithography, after 
 Original Water-Colour Drawings. Super-royal 4to, cloth, 15s. 
 
 Cis:ell, Fetter, Calpin J Co. : Ludgate Hill, London ; Paris ; and New York. 
 
S.lections from Cassell, Pctler, Galfin # Co.'s Volumes {Continued). 
 
 Our Own Country. 
 
 An Illustrated Geographical and Historical Description of the Chief Places of 
 Interest in Great Britain. Vols. I., II., & 111., with upwards of 200 Illus- 
 trations in each, 7s. 6d. , each. 
 
 Old and New Edinburgh, Cassell's. 
 
 Vol. I. With nearly 200 Original Illustrations, specially executed for the 
 Work. In crown 4to, cloth, gs. 
 
 The International Portrait Gallery. 
 
 Ih Two Vols., each containfng 20 Portraits in Colours, executed in the best style 
 of Chromo-Lithography, with Memoirs. Demy 4to, cloth gilt, 12s. 6d. each. 
 
 The National Portrait Gallery. 
 
 Complete in Four Volumes. Each containing 20 Portraits, printed in the 
 best style of Chromo-Lithography, with Memoirs. Cloth gilt, 12s. 6d. each. 
 
 Science for All. 
 
 Vols. I., .II., III., and IV. Edited by Dr. Robert Brown, M.A., F.L.S., 
 &c., assisted by Eminent Scientific Writers. Each containing about 350 
 Illustrations. Extra crown 4to, cloth, 9s. each. 
 
 Great Industries of Great Britain. 
 
 Complete in Three Vols., with about 400 Illustrations. Extra crown 4to, 
 320 pages, cloth, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Field Naturalist's Handbook. 
 
 By the Rev. J. G. Wood and Theodore Wood. Cloth, 5s. 
 
 The Races of Mankind. 
 
 By Robert Brown, M.A., Ph.D., F.L.S., F.R.G.S. Complete in Four 
 Vols., containing upwards of 500 Illustrations. Extra crown 410, cloth gilt, 
 6s. per Vol.; or Two Double Vols.. £1 is. 
 
 The Sea : Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, and 
 
 Heroism. By F. Whymper. Complete in Four Vols., each containing 
 100 Original Illustrations. 4to, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 Illustrated Readings. 
 
 Comprising a choice Selection from the English Literature of all Ages. With 
 about 400 Illustrations. Two Vols., cloth, 7s. 6d.; gilt edges, ids. 6d. each. 
 
 The Practical Dictionary of Mechanics. 
 
 Containing 15,000 Drawings, with Comprehensive and Technicai Descrip- . 
 TION of each Subject. Three Volumes, cloth, £-^ 3s. 
 
 Studies, in Design. 
 
 By Christopher Dresser, Ph.D., F.L.S., &c., with 60 Original Designs 
 in Fac-simile Colours. Demy folio, ;^3 3s. 
 
 Cassell, Fetter, Galpin & Co. : Ludgate Hill, London ; Paris ; and New York. 
 
 7 
 
Selecthns from Cassell, Pcitn; Calfin S; Co.'s Volumes [Ccniimied). 
 
 The Countries of the World. 
 
 By Robert Brown, M.A., Ph.D., F.L..S., F.R.G.S. Complete in Six 
 Vols., with 130 Illustrations in each. 4to, 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Gun and its Development ; with Notes on Shooting. 
 
 By W. W. Greener. Extra fcap. 4to, with 509 Illustrations, 21s. 
 
 Sports and Pastimes, Cassell's Book of. 
 
 A\'ith more than 800 Illustrations, and Coloured Frontispiece. 768 pages, 
 large crown Svo, cloth, gilt edges, 7s. 6d. 
 
 In-door Amusements, Card Games, and Fireside Fun, 
 
 Cassell's Book of. With numerous Illustrations. 224 pp., large crown 
 Svo, cloth, gilt edges, 3s. 6d. 
 
 The Family Physician. 
 
 A Modern Manual of Domestic Medicine. By Physicians and Surgeons 
 of the Principal London Hospitals. Royal Svo, cloth, 21s. 
 
 The Domestic Dictionary. 
 
 An Encyclopaedia for the Household. 1,280 pages, royal Svo, Clieap Edition, 
 price 7s. 6d. , 
 
 Cassell's Dictionary of Cookery. 
 
 The Largest, Cheapest, and Best Book of Cookery. With 9,000 Recipes. 
 Cheap Edition, price ys. 6d.' 
 
 Cassell's Household Guide. 
 
 New and Revised Edition. With Illustrations on nearly every page, and 
 Coloured Plates. Complete in Four Vols., 6s. each. 
 
 A Year s Cookery. 
 
 Giving Dishes for Breakfast, Luncheon, and Dinner for Every Day in the 
 Year, with Practical Instnictions for their Preparation. By Phillis Browne. 
 Chiap Edition, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 A Handbook of Nursing, for the Home and for the 
 
 Hospital. By C. J. Wood, Lady Superintendent of the Children's Hospital, 
 Great Ormond Street. Cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 
 What Girls Can Do. 
 
 A Bock for Mothers and Daughters. By Phillis Browne, Author of "A 
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 1^ Cassell, Fetter, Galpin & Co.'s Complete Catalogue, 
 
 containing a List of Several Hundred Volumes, including Bibles and Jieligioiis 
 H'oris, Fine- Art Volumes, Children's Books, Dictionaries, Educational Vi'orks, 
 Handbooks ami Guides, History, Natural History, Household and Domastic 
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Slips for use in Catalogues. 
 
 HALL, William. A Biography of David Cox, 
 with Remarks on his Works and Genius. By 
 William Hall. Edited, with Additions, by John 
 Thackray Bunce. Cassell, Fetter, Galpin & Co. : 
 London, Paris & New York, 1881. i vol., demySvo, 
 pp. xvi. 268. 
 
 BUNCE, John Thackray. A Biography of 
 David Cox, with Remarks on his Works and Genius. 
 By William Hall. Edited, with Additions, by John 
 Thackray Bunce. Cassell, Fetter, Galpin & Co. : 
 London, Paris & New York, 1881. i vol., demy 8vo, 
 pp. xvi. 268. 
 
 COX, David. A Biography of David Cox, with 
 
 Remarks on his Works and Genius. By William 
 
 ' Hall. Edited, with Additions, by John Thackray 
 
 Bunce. Cassell, Fetter, Galpin & Co. : London, Paris 
 
 & New York, 1881. i vol., demy 8vo, pp. xvi. 268. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY (A) of David Cox, with Remarks on 
 his Works and Genius. By William Hall. Edited, 
 with Additions, by John Thackray Bunce. Cassell, 
 Fetter, Galpin & Co. : London, Paris & New York, 
 1881. I vol., demy 8vo, pp. xvi 268.