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LIFE

SIR DAVID WILKIE;

HIS JOURNALS, TOURS, AND CRITICAL REMARKS

WORKS OF ART;

A SELECTION FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE.

BY
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. In

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1843.

London :
Printed by A. Stottiswoode,
New. Street-Square.

INSCRIBED

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

SIR ROBERT PEEL, BART.

&c. &c. &c.

IS REMEMBBA5CE OF HIS DONG AND STEADY FHIENDSHir

SLR DAVID WILKIE.

A 2

PREFACE.

I should feel some misgivings in setting this work
before the world, if it depended solely on its merits
as a literary composition. The Journals and Letters
of Wilkie, "while they exhibit a proper consciousness
of his own acknowledged genius, betray no symptoms
that they were ever intended for the public eye ; and
his biographer did not live long enough to watch his
own work through the press, and see it in the new
shape and light which the printer puts it in, of one
consistent whole. Wilkie died suddenly at sea, full
of hope and grand ideas in his art ; and his biogra
pher lay senseless within a few hours after he had
written the last page of his friend's character — he
died the next day. He understood Sir David, and
loved him, and his heart was much with his subject.
But these volumes have, withal, many claims to
public attention : they detail, with minute and faith
ful exactness, the several events of a great painter's
life; his early struggles for distinction and support;
A 3

VI PREFACE.

the progress of his pictures, from the first rude con
ception of mcident and story, till that last stage in
which they won universal approbation upon the walls
of the Royal Academy. His Letters and Journals
reveal his secret misgivings, his eager thirst for fame,
the patience with which he laboured, and the warmth
of his friendship ; while his Memoranda and Remarks
exhibit a series of practical observations upon art,
such as no painter has left us since Sir Joshua
Reynolds. His Memoranda were made in all the
great galleries of Europe — the deliberate opinions of
the reflecting artist : — the Remarks at home — the
result of a whole life of acute observation and ex
perience. The Letters are addressed to his brother and sister,
and the various persons of taste with whom his genius
had brought him acquainted. The frank and ready
communication of these letters lightened the biogra
pher's task of collecting; and he was also grateful
for the assistance he had received from the consider
ate contributions of friends and admirers. The
names of the parties to whom the several letters
are addressed exhibit the friendly quarters from
whence they were received ; but I feel that an enu
meration of names is necessary, that I may express
the thanks of a son for assistance rendered to a
father. I beg leave to acknowledge, with thankfulness, the

PREFACE. VU
sense I feel of the courtesy and kindness of his Grace
the Duke of Sutherland ; the Right Honourable the
Earl of Leven; the Countess of Mulgrave ; the Right
Honourable Sir Robert Peel, Bart. ; Viscount Mahon
M. P. ; Mrs. Howley (the lady of his Grace the Arch
bishop of Canterbury) ; Honourable W. Leslie Mel
ville ; Sir George Beaumont, Bart. ; Sir W. W. Knigh
ton, Bart.; Sir James M'Grigor, Bart.; Samuel Rogers
Esq. ; J. G. Lockhart, Esq. ; Sir Martin Archer Shee
P. R. A. ; Thomas Phillips, Esq. R. A. ; William
Collins, Esq. R. A. ; Sir Peter Laurie; Peter Laurie,
Esq. ; J. Abel Smith, Esq. M. P. ; Sir William Allan,
R. A. ; Lady Baird Preston ; Miss Edgeworth ; Mrs.
Anthony Todd Thomson ; Sir Claudius Hunter ; Pro
fessor Buckland ; John Burnet, Esq. ; the late Abraham
Raimbach, Esq.; George Young, Esq., of Denmark
Hill ; John Harvey, Esq. ; Bonamy Dobree, Esq. ;
George Jones, Esq. R. A. ; W. S. Woodburn, Esq. ;
Andrew Wilson, Esq., and his son, C. H. Wilson, Esq.,
of Edinburgh ; Professor Gillespie, of St. Andrew's ;
Dr. Darling ; James Hall, Esq. ; Miss Catherine
Sinclair ; Angus Fletcher, Esq. ; David Lister, Esq. ;
William Laidlaw, Esq. ; Francis Graham Moon, Esq. ;
Mrs. Nasmyth, Edinburgh ; A. Keightley, Esq. ;
W. S. Watson, Esq. ; Alexander Fraser, Esq. ; David
Page, Esq., of Cupar ; William Pagan, Esq., of
Cupar; Andrew Geddes, Esq., A. R. A. ; Thomas
Bigge, Esq.; B. G. Windus, Esq., of Tottenham;

Vlll PREFACE.

Francis Graves, Esq. ; William Tait, Esq. ; WiUiam
Simson, Esq. ; David Laing, Esq., of Edinburgh ;
J. W. Fraser, Esq., of Manchester; John W. Cook,
Esq. ; and Mrs. Coppard, of CamberweU.

PETER CUNNINGHAM.

London, 1st March, 1843.

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

CHAPTER I.

Page

Birth and Parentage of Sir David Wilkie. — Sent to School
at Pitlessie- — Removed to Kettle School. — Early Love
for Drawing - - ... 1
CHAPTER II.
Origin of his first Impulse for Art. — Admitted a Student of
the Edinburgh Academy for the Improvement of Manufac
tures. — Character of John Graham, the Master. — Sir
William Allan's Recollections of Wilkie at the Trustees'
Academy. — Mr. Burnet's. — Hon. W. Leslie Melville's 
Obtains a Prize at the Academy. — Paints the first Sketch
of " The Village Politicians," &c. — Mr. Graham's Charac
ter of his Pupil at this Time - - -25
CHAPTER III.
Returns to Cults  Character of David Allan. — Paints
" Pitlessie Fair." — Sees and obtains a Lay-figure for the
first Time. — Paints several Portraits and the Picture of
" The Village Recruit." — Starts for London - -55
CHAPTER IV.
His first London Lodging. — His first Exhibition. — Enters
his Name at the Royal Academy as a Probationer. — Mr.

X CONTENTS. Page
Haydon's Description of him at this Time. — Somerset
House Exhibition of 1805. - Letters to Mr. MacDonald
and the Rev. David Wilkie. — Early Difficulties. —Want
of Encouragement. — Meditates returning to Scotland.
Introduced by Mr. Stodart to the Earl of Mansfield. —
Paints and exhibits, " The Village Politicians " - - < •">
CHAPTER V.
Kindness of Mr. Angerstein. — Letter from Mr. Graham. —
Paints "The Blind Fiddler" for Sir George Beaumont,
and " Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage " for Mr. Davison.
— Mr. Andrew Wilson's Recollections of Wilkie at this
Time. — Letters from Sir George Beaumont  Wilkie re
visits Cults - - 115
CHAPTER VI.
Paints " The Card-Players " for the Duke of Gloucester, and
" The Rent Day " for the Earl of Mulgrave. — Extracts
from Journal - - 157
CHAPTER VII.
Wilkie at Southampton with Lord and Lady Lansdowne. —
Extracts from Journal. — Paints " The Sick Lady," " The
Jew's Harp," and " The Cut Finger." — Journal continued.
— Royal Academy Exhibition of 1809 - -- -190
CHAPTER VIII.
Wilkie in Devonshire and at Coleorton Hall. — Extracts from
Journal. — Elected an Associate of the Royal Academy 
Journal continued ..... 239
CHAPTER IX.
Wilkie paints " The Wardrobe Ransacked," and sends it to
the Royal Academy Exhibition  Advised to withdraw it.
— Early Fame of Edward Bird  Extracts from Journal.
— Completion of " The Village Festival." — Correspond
ence with Sir George Beaumont. — Obliged to refrain from

CONTENTS. xi
Puge
Painting through ill Health.— -Dr. Baillie and Joanna
Baillie's Kindness  Wilkie at Hampstead and Dunmow.
— Elected a Royal Academician .... - 285
CHAPTER X.
Cults. — Wilkie exhibits his Pictures in Pall-Mail. — Cata
logue of the Exhibition.— Death of the Rev. David Wilkie.
— Letters to Miss Wilkie. — " Blindman's Buff." —Wilkie
takes a House in Kensington. — Arrival in London of Mrs.
Wilkie and Miss Wilkie. — " Letter of Introduction." —
Extracts from Journal - - . 335
CHAPTER XI.
Journal of a Tour to Paris - - - 389
CHAPTER XII.
" Distraining for Rent." — Canova in London  Wilkie in
Holland. — Letters to Sir George Beaumont, John Ander
son, and Mr. Raimbach. — Wilkie in Scotland. — Letter
from Sir Walter Scott. — Wilkie at Abbotsford  " The
Abbotsford Family." — Scott's Description of Wilkie's
Picture - - - - - - - 432

LIFE

SIR DAVID WILKIE.

CHAPTER I.

BIRTH ASD PARENTAGE OF SIB DAVID "WTLKIE.  SENT TO SCHOOL
AT PnXESSTE.  REMOVED TO KETTLE SCHOOL.  EARLY LOVE
FOR DRAWING.
The Scottish divines of the days of the Covenant re
garded Pamting and Poetry as matters idolatrous and
vain : they dismissed from pubhc worship aU external
splendour : their kirks were as rude as those of Rome
were elegant : their dress was affectedly plain and
homely : their manners rough and austere, and their
sermons presuming and inquisitorial: — succeeding
pastors softened these asperities, yet the sense of the
beautiful, which education heightens, continued to be
darkened by a devotion which, though sincere, was
gloomy and unsocial : the scholars of the kirk made
tardy and reluctant approaches towards the graceful
and the polite ; but nature at length asserted her own
dignity — " Out of the eater came forth meat, and out
of the sour came forth sweetness." Poetry and
Painting, in their highest and happiest moods, sprung
direct from the bosom of the kirk — the great poet of
VOL. I. B

2 THE LIFE OF 1785,
the Seasons, and the great painter whose life I am
about to delineate, were sons of Presbyterian clergy
men. Sir David Wilkie was born at the manse of the
parish of Cults, on the banks of Eden-water, in the
county of Fife, on the 18th of November, 1785. " I
am the third son," he says, in a brief and modest
memoir which he commenced of himself, " of the Rev.
David Wilkie and of IsabeUa Lister, his wife, a native
of the district. My father came from the county of
Mid-Lothian, and from a neighbourhood often men
tioned, which, endeared by birthright, had, like the
ancient Hebron, a halo and an interest about it which
no other place could possess. He was a native of
Ratho-Byres, a smaU property which had been in pos
session of our family for 400 years, until, as he used
to teU us, by the imprudence of his ancestors, it had
passed to a younger branch of the same family and
name, and was held by his father, John Wilkie, only
as its tenant and cultivator. Of the singular worth
and good qualities of that exceUent person, my grand
father, I have heard much and from many persons.
After his death, the family mansion, an humble struc
ture, was aUowed to sink to decay ; but, from a feeling
of respect to his own ancestry, the proprietor, James
Wilkie of Gilchristown, permitted a gable-end, con
taining the chimney corner where my grandfather
loved to entertain his friends, to remain, which I re
member a grey ruin, a venerable landmark of other
years." It is still remembered as one of those dreams in
which men of genius love sometimes to indulge, that

-2ET.1. SIR DAVID WD.KIE. 3
Sir David, as his fame increased, talked of buying
back, if possible, the family inheritance, some fifty or
sixty acres ; of buUding a mansion where the grey old
gable of Ratho-Byres stood; and of adorning it with
pictures from his own pentil, recording deeds and
scenes of Scottish glory. The birthplace of his fathers
was dear to his heart ; he loved to speak of Gogar-
burn, a smaU trout stream, as poets speak of the
Tweed and the Tay ; and of the scenes of skirmishes
nigh Ratho, between the Scots, the EngUsh, and the
Danes, as actions which History had done wrong to
neglect, and which Painting, had such art then ex
isted, would have done weU to record. He used to
relate, with pleasure, that Ratho possessed the old
Scots parUamentary Bible of the Regent Morton, a
folio, of a clear, and, for the times, a beautiful type,
embellished with rude cuts, on which he had looked
with interest ; nor did he faU in these reminiscences
to remember, that, in 1745, a female relation, whom a
fear of Prince Charles and his Highlandmen had
driven from Edinburgh to Ratho-Byres, prepared
and presented to his grandfather the first cup of tea
ever drank in the house of Wilkie, or indeed in the
district. " In the neighbourhood of Ratho," continues Sir
David, " reside other famUies of my name : Matthew
Wilkie of Bonnington, and WUUam WUkie of Ormis-
ton HUl, extensive proprietors of land, are counted
our relations, and claim descent from the same stock.
With the Reverend John WUkie of UphaU I wish I
could count kindred as surely, for he had a mind su
perior to his time. It happened in the year 1720 that
b 2

4 THE LIFE OF 1785-
a young man, of a good family, in the parish of Mid-
Calder, fell sick, and, as the wisest of the land differed
about the nature of his complaint, he was beUeved, m
the superstitious spirit of those times, to be witched.
A poor old woman of the neighbourhood acknow
ledged that she had uttered a rash wish respecting
him, and, as his disorder corresponded with her
words, she in consequence confessed herself a witch.
The family complained to the Presbytery, and the
Presbytery desired John WUkie to preach a sermon
on the heinousness of witchcraft. His text was, ' Sub
mit yourselves therefore to God : resist the devU and
he wUl fly from you : ' the sermon, the fame of which
stiU exists in the district, directed against supersti
tious beliefs and influences, removed the veU from
many eyes ; people wondered at their ignorance ; and
the old women of Mid- Calder were no longer beUeved,
even on their word, to be witches. Of an equaUy
enUghtened and perhaps a finer spirit, was the Reve
rend William WUkie, minister of Ratho, author of 'The
Epigoniad,' a poem on the Theban War, which, in a
language though reminding us too much of Pope,
almost his contemporary, exhibits such facUity of com
position, such readiness of imagery, and such power of
expression, as induced Hume the historian to caU
him the Scottish Homer. Nor should his Fables be
forgotten by those who speak of his poetry ; nor his
love for the pursuits of agriculture, in which he ex
ceUed." Here the memoir of Sir David abruptly closes but
the family papers enable me to continue the earlier
narrative of the name. His father, a David also, who

-Et.1. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 5
was born at Ratho-Byres in the year 1738, exhibited
in very early years a studious mood, which marked
him for the church. He went to the University of
Edinburgh in the eighteenth year of his age, and was
preferred for his diUgence to a bursary, which, in
addition to its honours, brought him forty pounds
Scots a year (*'. e. 3/. 6s. 8rf. sterhng). Such were the
rewards with which an ancient nation stimulated the
diligence of her scholars. For upwards of a dozen
years he pursued his studies in Greek, Hebrew,
PhUosophy, and Mathematics, eking out the frugal
allowance of his famUy by private instruction, which
brought a few guineas to his pocket, and rising stUl
in reputation for modest worth and soUd and useful
attainments. But though he appears to have taken
all the steps which students take to make themselves
known to the patrons of the church, the door of the
pulpit seemed reluctant to open and admit him, and
ere he had reached his thirtieth year he feU sick of
that worst of aU diseases — hope deferred. His merits,
however, had made him known to WUUam Wilkie,
author of " The Epigoniad," promoted for his learning,
if not for his poetry, to a professorship of divinity
at St. Andrews ; and the first use which that worthy
man made of his power was to invite his desponding
kinsman to attend his divinity class, and obtain for
him a table bursary in that University. This was
in the year 1768; in the succeeding year he passed
his trials, and preached before the presbytery of
St. Andrews ; and in the year foUowing he went as
assistant to the minister of Glammis, at the humble
salary of sixteen pounds, which received the welcome
b 3

6 THE LIFE OF 1785.
augmentation of ten pounds, when he was next year
appointed assistant to the pastor of Rescobie in Fife-
shire. These dates and circumstances are from a most
simple and interesting account which this truly pri
mitive person wrote of the leading events of his very
useful life, in which he describes his studies and
struggles for distinction and independence : he may
now tell his story in his own words, for it is about to
mingle with the fortunes of his distinguished son.
" 1773, November 24. Received a presentation from
the United College of St. Andrews to the vacant church
of Cults, which was sustained by them." — " 1774,
April 11. Left Rescobie, and on the 14th of April was
ordained minister of Cults, where I stiU continue."
This presentation has been attributed partly to the in
fluence of Professor Wilkie, and partly to the favour
able impression which his kinsman's learning and in
dustry had made on the heads of the University. This
family record now becomes more domestic and touch
ing. " 1776, October 18. Was this day married to
one of the most beautiful women in Fife, Miss Mary
CampbeU, sister to George CampbeU, one of the mi
nisters of Cupar." This young lady was the aunt of
the present Lord CampbeU, and is stUl remembered
as one of the loveUest women of the land. These sad
words follow: — " 1777, February 8. This day my
beloved wife departed this life, having been taken Ul
of a fever, attended by consumption — an event the
most afflicting I ever met with." Thus began, but
did not end, the friendship between the famUies of
Wilkie and CampbeU.

^T.l. SLR DAVID WILKIE. 7
A manse without a mistress I have heard grey
heads call unseemly; that of Cults was in due season
suppUed with another. A sense of gratitude, per
haps, rather than of beauty such as that of Mary
CampbeU, induced the second choice: the marriage
and its melancholy result are recorded in these words
in the famUy papers: — " 1778, November 3. Was
this day married to Miss Peggie Wilkie, my cousin,
in Edinburgh."— " 1780, March 28. This day my
most indulgent wife departed this Ufe, after being de-
Uvered of a stiU-born male chUd." Thus was the
manse of Cults deprived a second time of a young
mistress. But the kirk estabhshment of Scotland is
of itself a sUent admonition against ceUbacy: in
addition to a manse to manage, there is a glebe and
garden, which, with their fruit and milk, require the
skiU of soft hands, warning the pastor that it is
neither meet nor profitable to be alone. Some
thing of this seems to have been present to the mind
of the incumbent of Cults, and occasioned the foUow
ing domestic entry in his famUy record: — " 1781,
October 4. Was this day married to Miss IsabeUa
Lister, daughter to Mr. James Lister, farmer of Pit
lessie MUI." The father of the bride was a man of
singular worth and sagacity; respected too, for he was
one of the elders of Cults, and miller of Pitlessie MiU,
which stood then, and stiU stands, on Eden-water,
near the vUlage of Pitlessie, made memorable now by
the pencU of his grandson. The bride herself shared
in the sagacity of her race ; and though so young that
some of the more elderly maidens of Strath-Eden,
taking serious looks for the work of years, declared
b 4

8 THE LIFE OF 1785,
that the minister was old enough to be her father,
she conducted herself with so much decorum, and
fulfilled the duties of her station with such ease and
courtesy, that all the parishioners rejoiced when, in
due time, the minister was enabled to make the fol
lowing entry in the domestic records of his house,
which told that the hand of sorrow was lifted from
the manse, where it had been twice laid most heavily.
" 1782. August 13. This day, at half an hour be
fore twelve o'clock at noon, my dear wife was delivered
of a son, who was baptized on the 25th, and received
the name of John, after my father." Other entries
of a like nature in the course of time foUowed.
" 1784. July 3. This day, about four o'clock in the
morning, Bell was dehvered of a son, who, on the
eleventh, was baptized by the name of James, after
her father." The third entry introduces us to the
great artist. " 1785, November 18. This day, about
five in the evening, BeU was dehvered of a son, who,
on December 4th, was baptized by the name of
David, after myself."
We might dispense with the paternal record after
instancing this decisive entry, but it contains other
particulars which are not less than interesting. On
the day which preceded the birth of Sir David, his
grandfather John Wilkie died, at Ratho-Byres, at the
ripe age of ninety years : in the year 1793, the mi
nister of Cults was cured of a complaint by Dr. Bell,
which, brought on by study and anxiety, threatened
his life; and, in the year 1794, he published his work
on " The Theory of Interest," which good judges
have pronounced a profound and able book, and which

JEtA. Snt DAVID WILKIE. 9
Mr. Pitt, it is said, consulted in aU his calculations :
he writes thus of it himself — " Upon this work I have
employed considerable study during the space of four
years and a half, and which, it is to be hoped, wUl
maintain its character whUe calculations are in repute
in these kingdoms. It is dedicated to Lord Napier,
who received the comphment in a kind and obliging
manner." Of this good man, as weU as of his family,
more wiU be told in the course of the narrative.
In the days of which we speak, the stipends of the
Scottish clergy were in general as low as any lover of
humility could desire. That of Cults was only one
hundred and thirteen pounds a year*; the glebe, or
pendicle of land attached to the manse, extended only
to three or four acres ; and it required aU the care and
forethought of the minister and his very young wife
to keep free from debt, and maintain the look of gen-
tUity which is expected in a scholar and a divine :
this they accomplished by placing their income under
a system of exact economy, and indulging in no ex
pensive desires. But aU this determination to be
frugal might have faUed, for as their family increased
their necessary expenses increased also, had not Mrs.
WUkie, by a self-denial uncommon in so young a wife,
and with the wisdom of an experienced matron, from
the hour that she entered on the duties of her station,
resolved to Uve within their income ; and this resolu
tion, which involved a serious frugality in silk, and lace,
and " needle-work of Egypt," was fulfiUed so strictly,
* The stipend, paid partly in kind and partly in money, amounted in
. the year 1774 to the moderate sum of 68/. 10*. 3d. ; and for many years
afterwards it fluctuated from 57/. up to 100/.

10 THE LIFE OF 1791.
that till the outfit of their sons required those strict
bonds of economy to be slackened, the minister of Cults
continued free and unincumbered. In those days
frugality and simpUcity formed the domestic motto in
the north, and this was true of the pastor as weU as
the peasant. It was not then a law in domestic
economy that nothing should be of home or fireside
manufacture ; the spinning wheels of the manse, and
the country looms of Pitlessie, provided fine linen and
wooUen cloth for aU except hohday apparel : the sim
plicity of Presbyterianism demanded in the minister
no sumptuous change of vestments ; and the people —
incUning to austerity — loved to Usten to a sermon
preached in a homespun coat.
In a simplicity corresponding to the pastor's dress
the manse of those days was furnished. It is stiU
remembered in Nithsdale, that on the ordination of
a favourite minister, when one of his elders, aware of
the humihty of his purse, enquired how he would find
furniture to replenish the manse, he repUed : " The fir
and the alder of the glebe shaU be fine cedar and
polished mahogany to me ; the hands which can make
a harrow or a plough can surely make a chair to sit
on, and a bed to Ue on ; my wife and her maidens wUl
spin yarn for the curtains ; and the loom which weaves
a shepherd's plaid wUl weave them. I mean the
manse to exhibit an example of thrift to my parish."
There might be a Uttle of the pride of the primitive
in this ; but unostentatious simplicity in manses
generaUy prevailed; the linen of ordinary households
was spun from lint sown in a neighbouring farmer's
ground, and bleached on the nearest burn-bank by the

Mt.B. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 11
hands which spun it ; the butter, the mUk, and cheese,
for the kitchen and the haU, came from the cows
which were grazing within sight; the fowls which in
feasting times smoked on the table were fattened at
the nearest barn-door; the dove-cot was at hand to
supply an unexpected visiter at the manse ; the herbs
which seasoned the national dishes grew in the kitchen
garden ; whUe over the whole system of in-door eco
nomy the mistress of the house considered it her duty
to preside in a gown the fruit of her own thrift and
skUl. It was weU for the vigour and simpUcity of the
great painter's character that he was bred in such a
school. David was a sUent though stirring child,
and loved, when scarce escaped from his mother's
bosom, to draw such figures as struck his young
fancy on the sand by the stream-side, on the smooth
stones of the field, on the floors of the manse; nor
was it unobserved that most of these early scratchings
had a leaning towards the humorous and the absurd.
He has been heard, when his fame was high, to de
clare, that he could draw before he could read, and
paint before he could speU; nor is it forgotten that he
was seen, when a mere chUd, to sketch a female head
with chalk upon the floor; and, on being questioned
what he was doing, he answered, " Making bonnie
Lady Gonie;" and that the rude outline contained
something of the lineaments of Lady Balgonie, whom
he had but newly seen at his father's fireside.
From the healthy though rough academy of the
open fields, and the smooth stones by the way-side,
on which, Uke the great Giotto, he loved to draw the

12 THE LIFE OF 1793.
forms of sheep and dogs, and horses and soldiers, he
was sent, when seven years old, to the parish school
of Pitlessie, then under the care of James Diston,
a worthy man, with many offices, for he was at one
and the same time schoolmaster of Pitlessie, precentor
in the church, and clerk to the Kirk Session. David
had made some progress in education at home : his
mother, an exemplary woman in aU matters, not only
taught him the alphabet but also to read; so that
when he entered the school he took his station in the
Bible class. But he was no lover of studies such as
the master admired: his heart, he knew not why,
took no concern either in lessons of grammar, or
questions of arithmetic, but wandered unconsciously,
as he has been heard to declare, away to the unbidden
realms of art. What he could be doing while stoop
ing behind the desk, with a group of boys and girls
crowding about him, was soon discovered by the
master, and brought but a gentle rebuke for turning
the school into an academy of art, and drawing heads
on his slate instead of working questions in Hutton
or DUworth. Of these school-boy portraits I once
enquired of one of the sitters, " If they were like?" —
" Ou, like ! atweel they were hke," he said. This
school companion knew him as " wee sunny -haired
Davie," but was not aware of his eminence in art.
When I related this conversation to Sir David,
he smUed and said, "I remember it aU well: it
happened at Pitlessie school; and when I went to
the school of Kettle, my reputation had gone
before me, and I got no rest till I had drawn—
sometimes with pencil, frequently with ink— most of

."Et. 8. MR DAVID WU.KIK. 13
the heads in the school ; but you may be sure that they
were rude things." Some of those very early group
ings in art are stiU preserved by his school com
panions. When he grew into reputation with his
bare-footed comrades, he set a value, it is said, on his
drawings, and levied the reward of a pencil, or a
marble, or a pen, from aU whom he did not sketch of
free wUl. Others remember him, while at school, as
careless of dress, fond of droUery, and loving play
better than his lesson. "¦ I mind him weel," said an
old man from the banks of Eden-water ; " and I mind
his brithers too; but he was a quieter kindlier lad
than his elder brithers ; and Uked better to stand and
lpok on at his companions at their games, than join in
their play. I think I see him now standing smiling
wi' his hands in his pouches ! Ay, but he liked best
to Ue a groiife on the ground with his slate and
pencU, making queer drawings ! "
The school of Pitlessie is about a mUe from the
manse of Cults; yet this road seemed long to a boy
who. deUghted with his own fancies, loved to wander
in the fields, and by the bank of the brook, gazing on
the changing hues of the sky, on the varying shades
of the wood, and on the passing traveller, particu
larly when a soldier in " old red rags," or a gipsy wife
with her horn spoons, and kettles, and asses, came to
diversify the road. David was an unwilling scholar,
and never could give his mind up to his father's
favourite pursuit, arithmetic; and it is certain that
at Pitlessie he made but little progress. To the
reading which his mother taught him, he soon, in
deed, added some skill in writing, which his love of

14 THE LIFE OF 1797.
drawing enabled him to master : but he learned httle
else; nor was he reckoned at all a quick or a gifted
boy. He loved to sit and watch, it is said, the sun
beam as it crept along the school waU, wishing for
the time when he would be released, or make draw
ings of the boys as they stood up in groups to repeat
their lessons ; he took little dehght in studies in which
his pencU or his pen could not bestow form and
colour. Indeed, he seems during even his boyish
days to have observed every striking sight which
such an inland place as Cults presented. He has been
heard to describe, with a poet's taste and a painter's
eye, the smithy of the district on a night of spring:
the swart and sweaty brow of the blacksmith; the
tawny faces of the ploughmen who had gathered
around with their ploughshares and socks; and the
flashings of the glowing and hissing iron in a welding
heat — aU were there : no characteristic touch was
wanting to give life to the scene. These were as sure
indications of a natural talent for art as a swaUow is
of summer, or a primrose of spring.
Sometime, perhaps early in the year 1797, David
left the school of Pitlessie and went to that of Kettle,
about two miles further up the stream of the Eden.
The master, Dr. Strachan (now bishop of Toronto),
a man of another mood than the schoolmaster of
Pitlessie, has been heard to declare that Wilkie was
the most singular scholar he ever attempted to
teach ; that, though quiet and demure, he had an eye
and an ear for all the idle mischief that was in hand ;
that he drew readier than he could write ; loved to
draw figures on the slates, benches, and waUs; and

.Et. 12. MR DAVID VI LIU K. 15
when his headAvas doAvn as all imagined at his lesson,
mstead of mastering his task he was filling the margin
of his book with heads in all postures and of all
expressions, though the whimsical prevailed. The
heads were chiefly imitated from the boys in the
classes around. It is remarkable, however, that the
memory of his doings is not so rife with his school-
feUows under Mr. Strachan as it is with those of Pit
lessie : he was indeed not more than fifteen or eighteen
months at Kettle school ; was more of a stranger in
the place ; and, as the whole district lay in a state of
nature respecting art, none of his companions had
the sagacity to discern its tokens.
But, though his heart was set on art, he in
herited the mechanical turn of mind peculiar to his
race — a surer patrimony than Ratho-Byres. This
was visible on many occasions. With no better tools
than a knife and a chisel he constructed miniature
wind and water mills, frames for winnowing corn,
common suction pumps, and carriages for labour and
for pleasure : nor did he seem averse to learn the craft
of shoemaking, and the trade of weaving ; and he is
said to have exceUed in handhng the fore-hammer in
the vUlage forge. He has been heard to describe with
much accuracy the peculiar position of the shoemaker,
when, having passed the bristled points of his thread
through the hole made by the awl, he sets his feet
out, presses closer his knees, and with compressed
Ups and bared elbows, pulls the waxen hemp home
with a jerk. And he evidently in his day had sat on a
loom ; for he could give the nod of the weaver's head,
the swing of his body, and the very sound which the

16 THE LIFE OF 1797.
shy emitted when the treddles moved, and the shuttle
delivered its thread to the warp. When the manse
of Cults, an old and tottering fabric, was cast down
in the year 1796 and rebuilt, the masons, and after
them the joiners, complained of work spoUed and tools
blunted during the breakfast and dinner hours : yet
they admitted that the hand so busied was one that
aimed weU ; and an old mason, who found David
using his tools, declared that aulder heads than his
kneAV less of the geometrical principles of his calling.
No sooner was the manse finished, than David
turned the room aUotted for the children into an
academy. " When in September 1813," says Pro
fessor Gillespie of Saint Andrews, " I became mi
nister of Cults, orders were given that the manse
should be prepared for my reception, and painters
and whitewashers began their labours. On my arrival,
on looking at the room which had been the nursery,
I observed the dim and half-obliterated outUnes of
heads and hands visible through the whitewash. On
enquiry, I found that these — some of them at least
— were the almost infantine attempts at draAving of
my friend Sir David ; and great was my anger at the
tasteless haste Avith which the orders of purification
had been performed. They consisted, I was told,
chiefly of portraits, touched into the humorous, of
persons who were visiters at the manse, or who fre
quented the kirk, and were draAvn with chalk, charcoal,
pencil, keel, nay — ink; for almost any thing was in
those days in his hands an instrument of art. His
love of character was Avith him a very early passion :
a grey-headed beggarman, a maimed soldier, a limp-

JEt.12. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 17
ing saUor, or a mendicant fiddler, were quickly trans
ferred into a little book, which he carried continually
in his pocket. When at school I have been told by
those who belonged to his class, that though a demure
boy, he was a lover of innocent droUery, and fond of
drawing up his companions in rank and file, like sol
diers, and making them move at his command."
He was, as we haA'e seen, no loAer of the labour
which learning requires ; but Avhen he grew tired, and
that was seldom, of making sketches with red or
white chalk on the walls or floor, he loved to Usten to
what Ossian calls " the tale of the times of old;" and
great was his dehght when some old worthy of the
parish dropped into the manse, and related stories of
the wars of the Covenant, and the doings of that " ma
lignant, James Graham," the renowned Marquis of
Montrose; nor was he an uninterested hstener to
accounts of the Highland Raid, as the rebellion of
1745 was softly caUed; and of the tremor which came
over the ': faithful of Fife," when the Popish Prince
had advanced to Derby in quest of the croAvn. The
witches too of Fife, he told me, he had marked out for
a picture ; and described if as if then present to his
fancy : the principal figure was an old woman accused
of witchcraft. It was observed of him then that he
disliked to Usten to a confused story, and never hesi
tated (and this was true of him in after-life) to turn
the narrator back tiU aU was made clear that seemed
dark or perplexed. He was from his boyish days an
ardent lover of his country ; and aU found a wiUing
hstener in him who came with the names of WaUace
vol. i. c

18 THE LLFE OF 1797.
and Bruce on their Ups, or could relate any thing of
Sir David Lindsay.
When some ten or twelve years old his Ufe, by a
piece of boyish imprudence, was placed in the utmost
danger ; people indeed did not scruple to caU his escape
from death miraculous. It was his pleasure to throw
himself at times on a horse's back, saddled or unsaddled,
and indulge in a canter. One evening, about the time
that cattle come home from the field, David was found
lying in the road near the manse without sense or
motion : he had been dragged along the ground, for
his hands, stiU clutched, were fuU of grass, his cheeks
were grazed, and his right foot wanted the shoe, and
was much hurt. When he came to himself he said
that he coUed up the tether, and pressed the. animal
into a trot, when he lost his balance and feU off. In
his fall his foot got entangled in the tether, and he
was dragged along the road till he became insensible.
How he was released he never knew, but the shoe by
which he had been dragged was afterwards found
Avithin twenty or thirty yards from where he was
himself picked up. He soon recovered, but this rough
gaUop cured him of his love of riding barebacked
horses : he made most of his future excursions on foot,
and was for ever after a very timid horseman.
His attendance at the grammar school of Kettle
opened the scenes of his native county a Uttle more
to his sight: he had seen soldiers, both cavalry and
infantry, and sketched them as he sketched all things
that touched his fancy: he now heard for the first
time of a review, and accompanied by his younger

.Et. 12. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 19
brother Thomas set off to see it. In this expedition
which dreAV him to Kirkaldy, he saAV what he ever
afterAvards considered an interesting sight, the mea
sured movements of disciplined men to the Avord of
command, and the excitement of music. He saw the
sea too, a sight he had never seen before, Avith vessels
moving upon it : but men riding, ranked, and in order,
their plumes waAnng, and their swords shining in the
sun, struck his young fancy most; nor did he rest till
he sketched the whole scene, with the cavalry all in
motion, and Lord Crawford their colonel directing
their movements.
This sketch he copied into a folio book which he
seems to have got on purpose for such drawings as
were favourites, tUl a more skilful head, and a more
practised hand, echpsed them by happier things. This
foho book is now before me, and contains some score
or so of draAvings. The figures are shghtly coloured,
and the fields and woods and waters which belong to
them faintly shaded in ; they are rude and unartist-Uke,
but remarkable for that sense of quantity and distance
which belongs to mathematical minds. They seem to
have been sketched during the years 1797 and 1798,
and, save in the choice of subject, show, but in few
instances, much of the original genius of WUkie.
There is Uttle of the ideal in them; they are very
various, however, and are mostly from scenes and
sights which had struck his youthful fancy in the land
wherein he hved.
The first draAving in the book is the kirk town of
Cults : the lessons which he took in masonry while
the manse was rebuUding seem to have aided him
c 2

20 THE LIFE OF 1799.
little in the sketch of his native village. The second
is an officer of the Fife volunteers, stiff rather and
formal, and evidently copied from the Ufe. The third is
a portrait of himself, round-faced, and somewhat
chubby : he is in a short blue coat ; his shirt neck is
tied with a black ribbon ; it has a country air, and
that composed look which distinguished him when a
man, yet a composure ever ready for either open
humour or serious thought. The fourth is CraAvford
Lodge, a place endeared to him by the courtesy of its
proprietor, as weU as by the pictures which it con
tained, two of which were portraits from the hand of
Sir Joshua, on which it is said the boy-artist used to
gaze by the hour. The fifth is a singular scene : in a
wild wood and amid rocks, savage and splintery, he has
kindled a fire and hung a pot over it ; whUe beside it,
on a stone, sits a man, the sole tenant of the wUder
ness, who watches the flame climbing up the sides of
the pot, and the smoke curhng high into the air. He
is unshorn and unshaven, and in faint letters may still
be read " The Hermit," at the bottom of the page.
The sixth represents horses loosened from labour,
enjoying their freedom in a grassy field : the animals
are well proportioned, and the scene is natural. The
seventh is entitled Spring: in the back ground the
farmer steps with measured pace along the ploughed
field, Avith a white sheet fuU of seed corn slung from
his shoulder, while with his right hand he distributes
the grain equaUy into the furrows : the foreground is
occupied by a lady, evidently designed to be beautiful,
with a child just beginning to walk and a dog, aU of
Avhom seem to be sensible of the loveliness of the

.Et.14. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 21
opening flowers, mid to rejoice in the season. The
eighth scene is Summer; the scythe of the niOAver
has passed over the fields ; Avomen are raking the hay
together, and men are turning it to tlie warm wind,
or shaping it into coles: the landscape is very fairly
indicated. The ninth is Autumn; men are gather
ing in the fruits of the field; a cart laden Avith
yeUow sheaves is on its way to the stack-yard; and
the farmer and his dame look Avith pleasure at ricks
rising hi the stack-yard, and men stacking them with
broom, to preseiwe them from the storms of winter.
Winter comes in the tenth scene, and reigns both in
the air and the stream ; there is snow in the one, and
ice on the other ; whUe a crowd of boys, evidently a
school let loose, are shding on the bosom of the frozen
lake : a woman furred to the chin, a man buttoned to
the throat, and a boy mantled and mittened, are hurry
ing in their walk to keep themselves warm, while the
sun shines dimly on the scene from a December sky.
These four scenes have not a httle of the artificial in
them; and I suspect are copied rather from prints
which he admired than from scenes of his own ob
servation. The tenth is of a landscape character, and is said to
have been suggested to him by the mill of Pitlessie ;
it has a kiln and a mill weir, and such cottages as are
usuaUy huddled round, forming a rustic village, or,
what artists love better, a clachan ; the roofs have a
dusty look, and the weir that rough workmanship in
its construction in Avhich Rembrandt delighted. In
the eleventh scene, one boy is robbing a raven's nest
on the top of a taU and difficult tree, while another is
c 3

22 THE LIFE OF 1799,
stringing a bow — which seems of his oaati shaping —
perhaps to shoot at the raven, which is hovering
around in the air. Two boys conducting a reluctant
dog by a cord round its neck form the twelfth scene,
while a third boy has it by the ears, and is trying the
persuasion of force ; they are making httle way, for
the dog, though gentle, is strong, and seems to suspect,
from the cord and the neighbouring trees, that they
intend mischief. The thirteenth scene places us at
once in the enchanted ground, where the artist accom
plished so many of his enchantments : it is a Peter
BeU kind of picture — a tinker giving his ass a drink
at a running stream ; he has something of the gipsy
in his look, with aU his disheveUed hair ; the love of
finery of that wandering race may be seen in his
scarlet vest, which, as a matter of the toilet, is out of
place with the sooty pans and kettles of which he has
disencumbered the animal, evidently Avith the purpose
of kindling a fire and commencing business ; the
stream runs clear and Avimpling, and there are cottages
at hand. The fourteenth is a scene of a softer kind :
a green field, where a girl is milking a cow, whUe a
young man holds the animal by the neck, for she
looks unwilling to relinquish her burthen to an in
experienced hand. The fifteenth is a country picture :
a peasant boy returning from a wild wood Avith a
burthen of sapless boughs on his back ; he has evidently
taken the " sweer-man's load," as the Scots call a too
large burthen. The sixteenth is a rustic cottage, half
hid in a Avood, evidently draAvn with the scene before
him. The seventeenth is a number of cottages hud
dled together into a clachan ; very comfortable to

.Et.14. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 23
hVe in, no doubt; very picturesque to look at, but as
irregular as a clachan can be, Avhere every house seems
set down at random. The eighteenth scene is a flock
of sheep reposing in a meadow under the shelter of a
wood : the sun is yet unrisen ; snow — for it is winter
— has faUen during the night, and is yet unshaken
from their backs ; in the neighbouring cottages the
morning fires are kindled, and the smoke mounts
eurhng and blue into the air. This is a fine subject,
and was to the last a favourite Avith WUkie : it was
taken from nature. He reckoned the snow on the
backs of the sheep, which, compared with their fleeces,
has a whiteness of its own, an original touch.
In addition to his passion for draAving aU that was
of a solitary nature, he used to look with dehght on a
Highlander in fuU dress and equipment ; his heart, as
he observed, warmed to the tartan, not — for he qualified
his admiration — as a matter picturesque alone or even
natural, but as the distinctive badge or sign of the
greater northern tribes. Among WiUrie's early as
weU as later sketches, are many drawings of High
landers. " He never visited our northern metropolis,"
writes Miss Catherine Sinclair, " Avithout honouring
us Avith a visit, and generaUy dining here. On one
of these occasions, having caUed for pen and ink, he
offered to do me a drawing, which he executed AA-hUe
conversing with our famUy circle during the evening,
and having affixed his autograph he desired me to
keep it, saying, ' Let this be a memorial that your
father, Sir John Sinclair, was the means of making
me first fond of drawing. At the time he raised a
fencible regiment, he sent the portrait of a Highland
c 4

24 THE LIFE OF 1799.
soldier to every Scotch clergyman assisting to write
the Statistical,: Account of Scotland. My father was
one of those who received a copy ; it was the first
print I ever attempted to copy, and I never ceased to
do so, over and over again, tiU I had succeeded.' We
showed Sir David one of the prints, which I still pos
sess, and he hailed it with a burst of pleasure as an
agreeable remembrance of his boyhood."

2Et.14. SIR DAVID AVTLIUE. 25

CHAPTER II.
origin of his first impulse for art.  admitted a student
of the edinburgh academy for the improatement op
manufactures.  character of john graham, the master.
 sir avtlliam allan's recollections of wilkie at the
trustees' academy.  mr. burnet's.  hon. w. leslie mel-
atlle's.  obtains a prize at the academy.  paints the
first sketch of " the atllage politicians," etc.  mr.
Graham's character of his pupil at this time.
Up to this time Wilkie seems to have been ap
proaching art as a traveUer, who, lost in a mist,
wanders prcvidentiaUy towards the object of his
journey: he had no monitor to hold up the finger,
Uke a saint in a holy picture, and indicate the
way to heaven. The land he hved in, beyond a
stray portrait by Sir Joshua, had no fine examples
in painting, and the whole district of Fife possessed
no one who could interpret the silent meaning of an
enthusiast who found in every burnt stick a pencil,
in every smooth stone a prepared canvass, and in
every ragged mendicant a picture. I have been told
that, as he grew up, the love of art grew with him :
he became restless unless he had a pencil in his hand :
when he visited a neighbour he generally left on the
walls of the house an indication of his presence ; and
that to this day, on the waUs of the manse of Moni-
maU, there are figures and faces from his boyish

26 THE LIFE OF 1799.
hands. Burns said that his passions raged like so
many devils tUl they got vent in rhyme ; Wilkie,-
though untouched by that burning influence under
which the great poet Avrote, seemed possessed Avith a
similar spirit, and was never so happy as when put
ting the sentiments of his heart into shape and form.
Very early as weU as very late in Ufe he loved to
arrange his comrades into pictures, personating some
favourite story; nor did he hesitate to enact scenes
from " The Gentle Shepherd " of his favourite Allan
Ramsay; or to mimic, which he did with pecuhar
skUl, the voice and manner of any weU-known cha
racter. No one who looked on the quiet and demure
boy could, without knowing it, imagine that the dry
humour, the sedate glee, and that sense of the ludi
crous, which distinguish his nation, were in him in
their finest and happiest moods. Those who only
knew Wilkie as a great painter, knew but a bit of
the man.
It was well for him perhaps that he had no pictures
to lead him from the path of his own originahty, and
no one of influence enough to overrule or misdirect
his studies. It is true that in the manse of Moni-
maU he sometimes met with the minister's brother,
David Martin, a portrait painter, who had studied
under Ramsay in London and Rome, and whose con
versation tended to confirm the boy in his inclination
to become an artist; but Martin died before Sir
David, Avhose genius tradition avers he influenced,
Avas twelve years of age. His mind was left, as has
been said, to find and pursue its own road to dis
tinction; and while he was making the manse of

^t. 14. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 27
Cults or the public road his rooms for study, and
finding a fit subject for his pencil in an old man, an
old chair, a girl milking a cow, a tinker Avatering his
ass, or a flock of sheep Avhen the winter suoav was
taken from their fleeces, he a\ as all the time rushing
unconsciously towards the realms of art, and fiUing
his memory as weU as his sketch-book Avith materials
for that fine series of national pictures he Avas so soon
to commence, and in which Scotland's mind, heart
and manners, are stamped so brightly. He has been
heard to say, that when a boy he looked with an eye
of despair on the pictures in oU which he saw in
MelviUe House and CraAvford Lodge, and wondered
how such effects were produced. He began slowly,
he said, to see that all this came from study rather
than from chance : and that the wonders of painting
were as much the offspring of science and skiU as
were the sweet sounds of a musical instrument.
When the minister of Cults saw that his son's
heart was set on painting, he was, it is said, not a
Uttle troubled. He was a sagacious man, and knew
how few succeeded in climbing the hiU of fame with
success as weU as honour : nor was he unaware that
the pursuit was precarious; that it faUed often in
bringing even bread to its votaries ; and he would
have preferred some surer and less slippery path in
Ufe than that of art ; but, worst of aU, he saw not by
what means his son could obtain the advantages of
models and instruction, such as aU students require
before they can hope for either fame or bread. In
this none of his neighbours could help him, though
they did not fail to marvel at the sort of WiU-o'-Avisp

28 THE LIFE OF 1799.
choice which the son of a minister had made. The
elder WUkie has been blamed for looking with cold
ness and doubt on the choice of his son ; but a father
who feels as a father should, could not with any plea
sure see his chUd turn from the sure and beaten path
to competence and respectability, and venture on an
untrodden way of his own, in which it was doubtful
that either honour or wealth, or even subsistence,
would be found. He could not know that the hght
that led his son was light from heaven. It is true
that the love of art came on WUkie early, and came
the natural way : had he studied for any other pro
fession, and at the age of twenty-one thrown doAvn
the sword, or the pen, or the book, and exclaimed,.
" Go to ! I am a genius, and wUl be a painter," the
impulse might have been questionable. It was other-
Avise with a chUd who threw himself on the nursery
floor to make a sketch of bonnie Lady Gonie, whose
looks were limned on his memory ; who neglected his
lesson at school to draw his companions ; and forgot
his duty in the kirk to draw the portrait of a drowsy
parishioner: his desire to be an artist came from a
natural and settled purpose of soul. His grandfather
of Pitlessie MUI, whose mind seems to have been
haunted with a desire to see one of his daughter's
sons distinguish himself in a pulpit, endeavoured, but
in vain, to persuade David, who was a great favourite,
to pursue the study of divinity, and quit a profession
respecting which he perhaps entertained some secret
scruples; but his mother, who shared more in her
son's feelings, and knew better his irrepressible desire
of heart, encouraged him to persevere, though she

JBt. 14. MR DAVID WILK1K. 29
saw he was forsaking the three roads — the army, the
kirk, and the law — in wliich the Scottish youths of
his station had hitherto loved to Avalk.
When Wilkie some forty years afterwards looked
back on his early days, and reasoned on the impulse
Avhich made pamting so dear to his heart, he modestly
wrote, " That though a certain faculty, neither easUy
defined nor understood, is usuaUy recognised as
genius, and is considered the great moving power,
without which it is vain to attempt even a beginning,
much more by continued efforts to hope for excel
lence. — from aU experience of my own I have no con
sciousness that any attainment which, in the opinion
of good-natured people, it has been in my power to
reach, was either commenced or promoted by any
such innate impulse ; on the contrary, the attracting
and guiding poAver seems to have arisen from some
external cause. The opportunity of seeing what
others are pleased with, together with the stimu
lation of rival success, were both denied me : the
single element in aU the progressive movements was
persevering industry. Of those who have been led
to the study of art as a profession, many wiU be able
to trace their earhest bias to their familiarity with
works of art, or with the visible labours of those
engaged in producing them. To this kind of initiation
I, from pecuhar circumstances, can scarcely admit an
obligation. Although not excluded from the usual
sources of information upon other subjects, it is
remarkable that my native district, Avhere the impres
sions of early years were formed, could then scarcely
supply a work of art by Avhich the eye or the taste

30 THE LIFE OF 1799.
could either be excited or depressed : it contained no
work of estabhshed fame to which I had admission.
This peculiarity in the way of my commencement I
notice, but with acknowledgments, that, if some
helps which students usuaUy have access to were
wanting, other aids came to compensate ; and what
ever knowledge in art was acquired less easUy than
what is common, was the more readUy received, the
reflections arising from its acquirement the more
sound and the better remembered."
These words, which are transferred from Sir
Da\id's too brief autobiography, must be accepted
with some modifications : he refuses to acknowledge
the genius in its fullest sense, which aU the world
aUows him ; and ascribes the finest works of his
pencil to accident rather than to a natural vigour
and fitness of soul. Work! work! work! was, we
know, the motto of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who believed
that aU men had by birth an equal portion of genius,
and that toU weU directed did aU the rest ; to a mere
portrait-maker, whose models reside not in his own
mind, but come in their coaches, and sit at his caU,
it is more a work of hand-and-eye than of mind ; and
even Sir Joshua says, that portrait-painting is a fit
profession for a gentleman, since it does not require
him to think. But even the excellence of portraiture
is very various : those who have done nothing else
during a long life but paint likenesses, have been
outdone and eclipsed almost in a first attempt by a
more inspired artist, who had bestowed little study
on the subject. To create a picture in the mind:
draw it out in air, and cause it to abide there for

JEt. 14. SIR DAVID WILKli;. 31
months, nay years, tiU art and skill and labour unite
to embody it on canvass — that seems a Avork of genius
which cannot be accomplished by sAveat of brow.
It is weU said by Ben Jonson, a poet equally distin
guished for learning and genius, that " Without art,
nature can neA'er be perfect ; and without nature, art
can claim no being." A man can no more by labour
polish a pebble into a diamond, than he can by toil
alone, without the native ethereal heat of genius, pro
duce such a picture as "' The Village PoUticians."
From whateA'er impulse the desire of being a
painter came, WUkie resolved to obey it. He had
profited a httle at the grammar-school of Kettle; he
had added something to his knowledge at the academy
of Cupar, where he remained about a year ; he had
acquired the ordinary accomphshment of dancing from
one of those wandering professors who came to teach
the youth of Cupar and Kirkaldy to time their steps
to the sound of the fiddle ; nay, haAdng naturaUy a
good ear and pUant fingers, he mastered on the violin
the simple air of " Haud awa frae me, Donald," and
even exceUed in " Argyll's BowUng Green," which
AA-as long a favourite. Having taught bim these,
Cults had httle more to teach that he cared to knoAv ;
and wdth a sketch-book fiUed Avith drawings from na
ture, and a heart that Avarmed to the glories of art,
he resolved to turn his steps towards Edinburgh,
where he remembered David Martin told him he
would find instructors as avcU as models. When the
minister of Cults saw that his son was resolved to be
come a painter, or rather that he would bestow his
attention on nothing else, he resolved to gratify him :

32 THE LLFE OF 1799,
he consulted some of the wisest heads of the district on
this, but aU he could get was a dubious shake : he
went to some of the most influential, who promised
their aid in introductions ; whUe others, to whom he
mentioned the taste of his son, openly dissuaded him
from an experiment so dangerous, and had instances
ready of young men of high promise who resolved to
be poets or painters, and who ended their career in
poverty and shame. It is part of the character of the
race of WUkie to pursue an object Avith constancy and
fortitude : they say Uttle ; they think much ; and this
was seen in David the elder. He inquired after schools
where painting was taught; Rome was mentioned
where Gavin HamUton, Runciman, and David Allan
had studied Avith success, and London, where Allan
Ramsay had for awhile shared popular applause Avith
Sir Joshua liimself; but Rome was distant, and Lon
don expensive, nor was he without fear that his son
was not far enough advanced in study to profit by
such instruction as began not with the beginning.
He heard, however, that the Trustees' Academy of
Edinburgh opened its doors to mechanics as weU as
artists, and Avithheld instruction in the art of drawing
from none who desired it : thither he sent his son in
November, 1799, when fourteen years of age.
With specimen drawings in his hand, and an
introductory letter from the Earl of Leven in his
pocket, Wilkie waited on Mr. George Thomson,
then, and long afterwards, secretary to the insti
tution. But his draAvings failed to satisfy the eye
of that gentleman; he looked at the draAvings of
the modest and timid boy, reperused the Earl's

-St. 14. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 33
letter, shook his head, and finaUy refused to admit
him. But the generous Earl of LeAen interposed:
he was one of those who thought AveU of a boy
Avho, in an uncongenial district, turned his mind to
matters of elegance and taste, and accepted it as a
proof of natural talent ; the scruples of the secretary
were overcome, and the name of David WUkie Avas
entered in the books. The exact date of his admis
sion I tried to obtain, but was informed that when
the books of the Board of Trustees were remoAong to
the present building many were destroyed, and the
one Avith the date of Sir David's admission among the
number ; the Uke fate, it seems, befel those volumes
which contained the account of the prizes which he
obtained, and the date of his leaving the academy.
" I, for one," Sir David used to say, when reflecting
in after Ufe upon the difficulty which attended his
admission to the Trustees' Academy, — "I, for one, can
aUow no Ul to be said of patronage ; patronage made
me what I am, for it is plain that merit had no hand
in my admission." Influenced, it is likely, by this, as
weU as by the experience afforded by a wide inter
course with the world, he Avrote a discourse on the
subject ; and in a very happy vein exhibited art flou
rishing under government patronage in foreign lands,
and under individual patronage at home.
George Thomson, however, did not err much in
hesitating, from his specimen drawings, to admit
Wilkie ; for up to the hour that he gained admission,
his best works were far from such as would have
secured him a probationer's ticket in one of the
higher academies. They were weU imagined, well
VOL. I. D

34 THE LIFE OF 1800.
chosen, and weU considered things, but executed in
a way unseemly and rough: yet in them might, be
seen, as the divinity which shone out in the Greek
marbles was observed in the elder wooden figures of
the land, a ray or so of that bright humour and moral
feeling with which he was soon to astonish his country.
Now an Academy never sits in judgment upon origin
ahty of genius; a smooth, fair, passable drawing is
aU that is required of a student ; the natural power
is taken for granted ; and thus the land swarms with
those who can copy, but cannot conceive — who can
imitate what others have done, but who are unable
to produce any thing new for others to copy. A
better test is wanted — the Academy should only admit
those who can show something of their own: the
proof of poetry Ues not in smooth or skUful trans
lation, neither should the abUity to draw weU either
the Venus or the ApoUo give admission to a student.
Had originaUty been the test, and the secretary of
the Trustees' Academy a judge of the article, WUkie
would have been admitted at once. He was, how
ever, admitted, and that, it must be confessed, at a
favourable hour.
The masters of the Trustees' Academy would seem
for half a century to have been slumbering in their
chairs. Their salaries were small, their scholars
few, and a love of the art which they taught was aU
but extinguished in the land. Runciman had in
deed brought a Fuseh-Uke flightiness to the task of
instruction; and David AUan, though deficient in
the proprieties of his art, had added a taste for
rustic humour and Uteral truth of detail, in which

JEtA5. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 35
men see glimpses of WUkie ; but neither of them had
succeeded in stamping their oavii character either on
the classes or on individual minds, and the Academy
Avas unable to boast of having produced a single
scholar of eminence. A change of measures, as weU
as of masters, occurred about the time that Sir David
entered; the chair had, it seems, been obtained by
an artist, whose name is now forgotten, through the
influence of drawings which his oaati hand had not
the skUl to make: he was ejected from the mastership
as soon as this was discovered, and John Graham
elected in his stead. The new master was a native
of the north; a student, too, of the school of nature,
for he was bred a coach painter, but forsaking coach-
panel for canvass, and coats of arms for higher sub
jects, he painted the " Death of General Fraser" — the
" Fraser brave" of Burns — with such success that
it obtained — nay kept — the early admiration of
WUkie, for an engraving of it hung constantly in
his study. Graham painted, too, the " Death of David
Rizzio" with much approbation, a subject taken up
soon afterwards by Opie, and treated Avith much
force : this the Scottish artist said was unfair in the
Cornish wonder, and never forgot to mention it when
he recounted all the envies and jealousies to which
artists are heirs. He was a kind and ardent-minded
man, and had the tact of inspiring the scholars Avith
his OAvn enthusiasm : he introduced for the first time
painting with oil into the Academy, and the institution
of premiums, and loved to relate, with some dramatic
effect, the opposition which individual tastes and in
terests raised against these measures. " Will oil
d 2

36 THE LIFE OF 1800.
colours," said the manufacturer, " as bright as those
of Titian, add any lustre to a goAvn-piece, or a new
charm to the flower and leaf on a table-cloth or
carpet ?" " Or wUl my apprentice," said the map
engraver, " when he learns the magic of Rembrandt's
colouring, become more skilful in etching the sinu
osities of a sea-coast, or in engraving an invitation
card?" If the merits of Graham were sought in the eminence
of his scholars, they would be easUy found. The first
of these was WUUam Allan*, noAv president of the
Royal Scottish Academy, worthUy filling, and with
great increase of fame, the chair of his master : the
second was John Burnet, whose exquisite engraAdngs
from the paintings of his great schoolfeUow scarcely
surpass the labours of his own pencil in the Une of
grave humour and social glee : the third was Alexander
Fraser, weU and widely knoAvn for domestic painting :
the fourth was David Thomson, brother of the secre
tary, in whom many fondly saw a fine landscape
painter, but who died young : and fifth, and last, and
at his entry reckoned the least in merit of aU I have
named, stands David WUkie himself, " who was soon
to convince his more lively companions that high
genius did not refuse to lodge with one who had a
country air, was slow of speech, and bashful of man
ner, and had none of ' the snip-snap short, and inter
ruption smart ' of the pert and sprightly lads of the
town." For it is in these words that Burnet de-

* Now Sir William Allan, R.A., and Wilkie's successor in the office of
Limner to the Queen for Scotland.

^t. 15. SLR DAVID WLLKIE. 37
scribes the impression whicli Sir David made on him
when they met in the Academy of Edinburgh.
"My first acquaintance with Sir David Wilkie,"
says his friend WUliam Allan, " Avas at Graham's Aca
demy in Edinburgh, wliich opened, I think, in the
year 1800. The class was newly formed, and I was
placed along with him to copy a set of outUnes of
eyes, noses, &c, and we continued together copying
from various examples untU quaUfied to draw from
the round (casts from the antique), of which there
were several exceUent specimens introduced at that
time into the Academy by Graham, who was the first
to give an impulse to art, and to move the enthusiasm
of the rising class of artists of that period. During
the time that WUkie attended the Academy, no one
could be more regular and industrious : whatever he
commenced he finished, and that weU. There being
only a few casts, we were compeUed to draw them
often : but he remarked, ' that this was to our advan
tage, as it enabled us to get them by heart.' He
seemed to have, even at that early period, an innate
feehng for character and expression, as the best of
many of his drawings done at the Academy can testify :
in particular, a sketch of Graham reading ; so fuU of
expression, and done Avith such a masterly hand, as
seemed to me then to be Uttle less than a miracle."
" The progress he made in art," continues the presi
dent ofthe Scottish Academy, "was marveUous. Every
thing he attempted indicated a knowledge far beyond
his years; and he soon took up that position in art
which he maintained to the last. He was always on
the look-out for character : he frequented trystes,
d 3

38 THE LLFE OF 1800.
fairs, and market-places, where there is generaUy a
large assemblage of the country people of aU ages
bargaining or disposing of their various commodities.
These were the sources whence he drew his best mate
rials : there he found that vigorous variety of charac
ter impressed on his very earhest works, which has
made them take such a lasting hold on the pubhc
mind. I met him frequently too in an auction-room in
the High Street, where prints and etchings were ex
hibited previous to their being disposed of. Those
from Rembrandt and Ostade attracted him much : at
that time, I beUeve, he had not seen an original pic
ture by either of those great masters, and yet the sub
jects he then painted partook largely of both; sharing
in the fine composition and draAving of the one, and
the great depth and powerful colouring of the other."
The houses in which eminent men Uved are thought
worthy of remembrance — their presence may be still
said to haUow the place. WUkie took lodgings in
Nicholson Street, and there,* in a smaU room, he first
set up his easel and commenced his studies. He was
as punctual as time itself to the hours aUowed for study
in the Academy: these were from ten to twelve in
the day; for as the chief object of the founders was
to improve the pattern of our manufactures, the time
of study was made purposely short, that journeymen
of taste and apprentices who desired to excel in
matters of elegance might be enabled to attend at as
smaU a loss as possible. House-painters, engravers,
weavers, pattern-makers, aU, in short, in whom a love
of the beautiful was awakened, were to be found in the
Academy classes. There would WUkie sit sUent and

.Et.15. SIR DAVLD WILKIE. 39
attentive, regarding but with a grave eye the little
episodes of harmless droUery which are common to all
academies, or noticing, with a scarcely perceptible
smUe, the practical joke Avhich he eluded and let pass.
To improve our manufactures and render more grace
ful the floAvers and the buds from the looms of Glas
gow and Dumfermline, or to waste his time in sallies
of Uvely droUery Avith the idle portion of the students,
was not his object : he had set his mind a higher task,
and he resolved to work it out.
" When WUkie came to our class," says Burnet,
" he had much enthusiasm of a queer and sUent kind,
and very httle knowledge of drawing : he had made
drawings, it is true, from Uving nature in that wide
academy the world, and chiefly from men or boys, or
such groups as chance threw in his way ; but in that
sort of drawing on which taste and knowledge are
united, he was far behind others who, without a tithe
of his talent, stood in the same class. Though behind
in skUl, he, however, surpassed, and that from the
first, aU his companions in comprehending the cha
racter of whatever he was set to draw. It was not
enough for him to say ' draw that antique foot, or
draw this antique hand ; ' no, he required to know to
what statue the foot or the hand belonged; what was
the action, and what the sentiment. He soon felt that
in the true antique the action and sentiment pervaded
it from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot,
and that unless this was knoAvn, the fragment was
not understood, and no right drawing of it could be
made. When he knew the meaning, he then began,
and not tiU then, to outline it in, studiously and
d 4

40 THE LIFE OF 1801.
sloAvly ; teUing those who reproached him with being
tardy, that the meanest figure in the humblest group
in the works of every great artist had a meaning and
a character. One of his earhest copies from the an
tique was a Niobe's head in red chalk; but before this
he had draAvn a series of noses, eyes, and ears, and
also a foot, which his father, now proud of his son's
progress, showed to some of the good people of Cults
as the first of his studies. 'And what is it, sir?'
enquired the man of Fife ; tradition says he was one
of the elders of Cults. ' It is a foot,' repUed the
minister. ' A foot ! ' exclaimed the elder in surprise ;
and taking a second look, ' A foot ! it's mair hke a
fluke (i. e. a flounder) than a foot.' Perhaps it is of
this drawing that Haydon says, ' The foot is a good
foot, awkwardly shaded, but correctly drawn ; and is
now in my possession, the gift of WUkie.' "
When Allan left the Academy, Burnet, Thomson,
and Wilkie were regarded as the ablest of the scholars
of Graham : the first for quickness of perception and
dexterity of hand; the second for what was caUed
historical loftiness ; and the third and last for original
observation. Burnet, who had his studies in en
graving to attend to, could give but a little of his
time to drawing ; Thomson I have heard described as
one of those flashy artists, with more show than sub
stance ; while WUkie, in whom the desire of painting
came through nature, rather than inoculation, began
gradually to gain the ascendant. When, therefore, the
master announced that he had prevailed on the
trustees not only to aUow studies in oU to be painted
from historic or poetic subjects, but to grant small

.Et. 16. SIR DAVID WILKIE. U
premiums for the best performances, there Avas an
anxiety among the students, and some curiosity in
the city, to knoAV what the subject Avas, and consider
who was likeliest to carry away the honour. The
subject Avas left to be found by each competitor in
the tragedy of Macbeth ; for the master observed that
Burnet, Thomson, and WUkie, who were selected,
would each choose a part after his oaati heart and
powers, and thus bring their pecuhar talents out.
The first chose the scene Avith the sinking of the
caldron; the second the murder of Banquo in the
forest; and the third Macduff's castle, with Lady
Macduff defending her Uttle son from the murderers.
The mingled Ught and darkness in which the charmed
caldron sank was the chief attraction in the painting
of Burnet; the landscape with the torches flashing
amid the boughs of the forest was impressive in
Thomson; whUe the fine expression of the head of
young Macduff was the most effective part of that of
WUkie. The prize was awarded to Thomson; not
without suspicion amongst some that his brother, the
secretary, had sUently influenced the decision. WUkie,
if disappointed, endured it with a modest tranquilhty
peculiar to himself ; and so Uttle did he attribute in
justice to George Thomson, that he loved to speak
of him with kindness and even affection in the days
of his fame.
The loss of the books of the Trustees' Academy in
which the subjects for competition, with the value of
the prizes and the names of those who gained them
were recorded, hinders me from tracing with accu
racy the progress of WUkie, and stating how often he

42 THE LIFE OF 1802.
was victor or vanquished in this obscure field of fame.
The subjects were generaUy from history or from
poetry, and the premiums were in money. The
master with whom the choice of the subject re
mained never, it would seem, imagined that in the
domestic or lyric poetry of Scotland the painter
would find matter sufficiently lofty for his pencU;
and overlooking a series of songs, which, for graphic
truth, ease and Ufe, pastoral sweetness, and rural glee,
have no parallel in modern composition, traveUed into
classic times, and sought among the exhausted masters
of heathen song and fable for themes for his scholars.
Such was the taste then, and it is much the same stiU:
our academies take the tone and colour of their works
from Rome, the fountain-head of classic composition,
and seldom seek to give shape and sentiment to mat
ters which would warm a British heart as the works
of Greece warmed Grecian hearts of old. A home-
born taste is making its way slowly; few of our
sculptors seek now to restore the forgotten gods of
the heathen to their pedestals : and few of our
painters try to charm us with Venus and her girdle, or
Calypso and her enchanted cup. At the time, how-
ever, of which I write, far-fetched subjects were in
fuU force, north as weU as south ; and though David
Allan had tried to win the taste of Scotland back to
matters rural and national, his ineffectual efforts went
to show that the master spirit was wanting, that the
time and the man had not yet come.
Wilkie seems now and then, even in his probation
days, to have been about to hft the veil from that
series of beautiful pictures which visited his thoughts,

JSit.17. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 43
and appeared, as it were, in vision before him ; to
have all but stumbled over the border of that terra
incognita in which he was soon to perform his wonders.
He had no other pursuit of either pleasure or subsist
ence to divide his thoughts ; he had not, as many have,
to come wearied from the toU of an ungenial occupa
tion, to bestow an hour or two on a study which
requires man's whole heart and soul. He laid down,
as Hume did, a scheme of Ufe and of study from which
he had the fortitude never to depart. He resolved to
be frugal, for the smaU stipend of Cults, with four
boys and a girl depending on it, required some care ;
and he was sensible that in choosing art for a profes
sion, he had staked his all ona desperate cast, and
that he must win or die. He was therefore watchful
in his expenditure, and careful in his choice of com
panions : of a frame too dehcate to share in the robust
amusements of the stirring lads of " Auld Reekie," he
loved to wander in his leisure hours about the streets
and squares, observing the masons at their daUy toil,
carmen with their teams, and more particularly the
groups which crowded the Grass Market or the High
Street, bringing with them that country-Uke or rural
air, by which the people of the vale and hUl are dis
tinguished from those of the city. It has been said
by those who were in the dark about the resources of
an inland place such as Cults, that Wilkie, when risen
into fame, had stUl before his eyes a fine picture by
Brouwer, whose best works, whUe a boy, he contem
plated with much deUght. But of Brouwer, when a
boy, he had not even heard. " He made," says Burnet,
" nature his Ostade and his Teniers ; and Carse, with

44 THE LIFE OF 1803.
his fine tone of colour, his Rembrandt and Jan Stein.
Next to nature he loved the works of David Allan;
and as Raphael is traced in Pietro Perugino, so may
David the First be traced, but in a loftier degree, in
David the Second. WUkie, as you may see in some
of his pictures, did not hesitate to avaU himself of
several of Allan's attitudes : I can see this even in the
Chelsea Pensioners; but the one was always within
the circle of taste and propriety, whUe the other, even
in his happiest works, seldom seems to have observed
such limits, which are easier felt than defined. In his
early study of character, his skill, his more than skill,
in seizing nature in her negligence and happiest
moods, may be found the origin of his vast success
in representations of familiar manners and domestic
life." In the year 1803, as Thomas MacDonald* teUs me,
who was in the Trustees' Academy with WUkie, the
subject selected for the ten guinea premium was that
of CaUsto in the bath of Diana : this was won by Sir
David, who turned his thoughts on home when the
money was in his pocket, and purchased and presented
a small token of remembrance to his mother, whose
tenderness was seldom out of his mind.f The picture
stUl exists J, together with that from Macbeth : the
effect in parts of both is said to be fine. He was

* Mr. MacDonald died in the summer of 1842.
f With part of the prize-money he purchased a silver watch, now in
the possession of his nephew Andrew Wilkie, at Calcutta.
J The "Diana and Calisto" was sold in the sixth day's sale of the
Wilkie Sketches for 481. 6s. Another early picture, " Ceres in search of
Proserpine," was sold the same day for SI. 10s., and is now in the pos
session of Mr. Hogarth.

Mt.U. SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 45
successful, too, in other subjects, and laid out the
money in prints and pencils, and materials such as the
easel required. Nor was he unmindful of the attention
which the Leven family had paid him. " I remember,"
thus writes the Hon. WiUiam LesUe MelvUle, " that my
father, touched by the modest spirit of the boy, re
commended him as a student to the Board of Trus
tees for Improvement of Manufactures in Scotland, of
which he was a member; but the drawings — a house
and a tree — which young Wilkie submitted to George
Thomson, the secretary, seemed to him so defective
both in perspective and colouring, that he hesitated
to admit him, and told my father that the boy had
entirely mistaken his talents. One of my brothers
writes me as foUows: — When Sir David was in Scot
land in 1839, he came to MelvUle House ; we have
three Uttle pictures from his hand of dogs and sheep :
on showing them to him he said, ' That dog I copied
from a print, the sheep I drew from nature. Some
people at Cults had praised my draAvings, and I re
member quite weU bringmg them to the great house,
and wondering as I came how I would be received.
Your father was very kind ; he praised my drawings,
and afterwards helped me.' I happened to be at home
when he caUed with the drawings — it was after his
admission to the Trustees' Academy — and walking
Avith him through the house, showed him what pic
tures there were — chiefly family portraits. I caUed
afterwards on him at Cults manse, and saw Avith other
draAvings some heads in a psalm book Avith a good
deal of expression, made, I fear, at church, from some
of the congregation : these, I think, were introduced

46 THE LLFE OF 1803.
into his picture of Pitlessie Fair. I regret that I can
recoUect nothing more of him in these interviews save
the simpUcity and modesty of his personal demeanor."
WhUe studying in the Trustees' Academy he made
some progress in portrait-painting, beginning with
heads in smaU, and graduaUy expanding them as,
confidence and skUl increased, tUl he reached the size.
of Ufe. Of the miniature size many portraits stiU
exist, some in pencil, others in oU, and some in water
colours. A number are single heads, others are in
groups : Uke the famUy conversation pieces of Hogarth,
they, one and aU, bear the evidence of fidelity and truth
of expression: the smaUest are the best: his de
ficiencies, both in drawing and colour, become more
visible the larger the heads grow : his. chief defect lay
in beheving that perfect fideUty of form was the lead
ing requisite: he did not feel at that time that pro
priety which brings the coarsest countenance within
the science of art, and lends grace and elegance to
portraiture — the charm which Vandyke and Reynolds
knew — was as necessary in hkeness as it is in aU else
that claims to belong to true painting. When he chose
to put the head into action, when he imagined that it
joined in the sentiment of some group, the expression
hghted up the countenance at once ; but when, on the
contrary, he put the head into that repose which
pertains to the unemployed, he ventured to take no
liberties, but contented himself with that sort of
fideUty which aU can swear to, but few can admire.
Of these inteUectual faces, there is a drawing made
during the days of academic study of the mother of
Thomas MacDonald, a Scottish matron, on which is

^t.18. SLR DAVID WLLKIE. 47
written, as plain as in a book, the mUd and shrewd
sagacity in the depicting of Avhich he exceUed. The
heads, too, which he drew unseen of the master of the
Academy (there were many of them, some reading,
and others conversing), were aU, it is said, indicative
ofthe native understanding, and joyous and sarcastic
humour of Graham. Nor should the miniature which,
in 1803, he made of his favourite brother Thomas,
then in a merchant's office at Leith, and which he
finished in a few sittings in Nicholson Street, be
excluded from the Ust of his very early and happy
things: it was Uke then, and is Uke still; and has a
touch, a very slight touch, of that grave humour
which is a reigning characteristic of the race.
Those who sought WUkie in Edinburgh, either
found him drawing at the Academy, or pursuing his
studies in his lodging, or hunting for characters to
work into pictures, which he now began to contem
plate. His progress in study was unexampled ; his
roughness of handling softened into grace and ease ;
his crude and heavy colouring into brightness and
harmony; and the heads which he had drawn at ran
dom, and only because they were odd or remarkable,
he now began to employ in groups which portrayed
manners or embodied sentiment. All this was per
ceived by his companions, and they vied with each
other in suggesting subjects to suit the genius which
they beUeved would soon flash out. MacDonald — an
admirer of Burns, and who had him by heart — never
was tired in reciting Tam-o'-Shanter, and loved to press
on WUkie the pictorial exceUence of that passage
where Tam grows joyous with the buxom landlady,

48 THE LIFE OF 1803,
while his crony the Souter charms the landlord with
his queerest stories. To aU this the young painter
rephed Avith one of his quiet doubtful smUes, or said
that the figures in the poem were too few to enable
him to work out the story over which he brooded;
beside, the sentiment of Burns was not controversial,
but licentious. Now it happened at this time, that
Hector MacneU's baUad of " Scotland's Skaith, or
WiU and Jean" — which caused a wondrous stir, and
a cry that Burns had come again, which has ceased
now — made its appearance. In the verses which
describe the country tippling club, and the resolution
of the members to meet oftener over their potations
and pohtics, — for twice a week did not afford leisure
to settle the constitution of the country, nor to discuss
the sentiments of The Gazetteer, — Wilkie saw what
he wanted, and instantly made a sketch. This bit
of pasteboard, which contains the true first-fruit of
his genius, is but a rough affair, Ul digested and
crude, but exhibiting a singular force, and a sort of
intrepid AvUdness of conception and character, much
tamed doAvn in the two pictures which originated in
this. The central group, the finest thing of the
kind in aU our island school of art, is nearly ahke in
all : the wrigghng and sagacious old head which pre
sides, with its three controversial companions, has
suffered little change; but the accessories, which in
the first sketch represent vulgar souls in whom con
tradiction and deceit have caUed up the savage, and
made them fit for treason, stratagem, and spoil, are
sobered prodigiously down.
With this scene, objected to by some of his com-

.Et. 18. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 49
rades as overstepping the academic rules of grouping
and drawing, but defended by others of his friends as
true to the times and the subject, and therefore natural
and legitimate art, WUkie liimself Avas so much pleased
that he resolved to enlarge the size, transfer it to
panel, and commit it to the more lasting keeping of
oU colour. This task took hun several months to
accomphsh : he was never a rapid Avorker ; nor one
who dashed in at a single heat of fancy any even of
his more hurried productions. He meditated on the
subject for some time, filled his mind with the memory
of the poUtical ferment of his youth, when every
smithy had its evening group of agitators, and every
change -house its club of orators, who discussed the
merits of the ale, and descanted on the rights of man.
WUkie took few or none into his counsels ; he had a
dread of that multitude of advisers, in whom the wise
man says there is safety ; he modified and purified the
whole composition, selected characters to sit for the
principal heads, and help him to the proper hghts and
darks of the composition, and, using his colours with
all the skill the Trustees' Academy had taught him,
produced to his wondering comrades this first of his
easel pictures — yet to be echpsed in aU, save a cer
tain brightness of colours, by the second on the same
subject which he painted in London, for the Earl of
Mansfield — now known over the world by the name
of The VUlage Pohticians. This first easel picture,
which the painter afterwards caUed a sketch, is now
in the hands of his early admirer Dr. Darhng.
In his seventeenth year, and before The VUlage
PoUticians had daAvned on his fancy, he painted a
VOL. I. e

50 THE LLFE OF 1803.
smaU picture from his favourite author, AUan Ram
say, embodying that fine scene in The Gentle Shep
herd, where Sir WiUiam returning from exUe in
the disguise of a seer or spaeman, finds his only
son, who had been for safety educated in ignorance
of his birth by Symon and Elspa, dancing in a
group of rustics, and offers to teU his fortune. The
incredulous look with which Patie hears the pro
posal; the wonder of Elspa when the seer describes
his tokens ; the tranquil sagacity of Symon ; and
the half-believing glance of Glaud, when he requests
to hear the hke good fortune foretold to his " twa
sonsy lasses," with the lasses themselves, plump and
ripe, are aU depicted, and in truth of character and
glowing colours, by the boy-painter. A single look at
the Avork wUl show how clearly these words are
embodied: —

Elspa. Betooch us to ! and weel I wat that's true !
Awa ! awa ! the deil's owre grit wi' you.
Four inch aneath his oxter is the mark,
Scarce ever seen since he first wore a sark.
Sir William. I'll tell ye mair — if this young lad be spar'd
But a short while, he'll be a braw rich laird.
Symon. Fair fa' your heart — 'tis gude to bode o' wealth ;
Come, turn the timmer to laird Patie's health.
Patie. A laird o' twa gude whistles and a kent,
Twa curs my trusty tenants on the bent,
Is a' my great estate, and like to be,
Sae cunning carle ne'er break yere jokes on me.
Glaud. Weel, b'it sae, friend, I shall say naething mair,
But I've twa sonsy lasses, young and fair,
Plump, ripe for men : I wish ye cou'd foresee
Sic fortunes for them, might prove joy to me.
In another spirit (for the subject was found in a far
different book), WUkie painted from the tragedy by

-St. IS. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 51
Home, young Douglas teUing his mother how he
learned the art. of war. The melancholy hermit, the
shaggy cave, and the enthusiastic listener are avcU-
delineated. The sentiment of the picture lies in these
Avords : —
Douglas. Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire
His speech struck from me, the old man would shake
His years away, and act his young encounters.
Then, having shew'd his wounds, he'd sit him down,
And all the live-long day discourse of war.
To help my fancy, — on the smooth green turf
He'd cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts,
Describ'd the motions and explain'd the use
Of the deep column and the lengthen'd line,
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm.
These pictures have since been sold.* The latter is
a subject on which the artist could not weU bestow
much heart ; the former comes home to the feelings,
and has such beauty, particularly in the Gentle
Shepherd himseK and one of the shepherd-maidens,
as he never exceUed : it wants, however, some of that
propriety of arrangement and dramatic skill in which
he afterwards surpassed. The scene is laid on the
little green plot of ground before Symon's house ; and
the old trees, old cottage, and old people, are aU in
a glow of rich colour. Though he often found the
scenes of his pictures in the open air, he seems to
have loved interiors most, less for the aid of pic
turesque odd furniture, of which he was not insen
sible, than for that free and unrestrained thought
which he associated more Avith firesides and stools
than Avith brooks and braes. He sketched an interior
* The subject from the Gentle Shepherd sold for 28 guineas (now in
Mr. Thomas Wilkie's hands) ; Douglas and the Hermit for \0l.
E 2

52 THE LIFE OF 1803.
of a cottage from another scene in The Gentle Shep
herd; but, perhaps, not satisfied with what he had
done, he did not carry it to the easel. The truth
of his younger brother's remark may be seen in these
as much as in his after compositions, that he loved to
hear the husbandmen sing at their work, the lasses
sing at the wheel, and used to study with much at
tention the postures into which the performance of
domestic duties threw them.
It is related by some who were WUkie's feUow-
students in Edinburgh, that the more restless of
their number, when they saw him musing much, or
in a study, often tried to tease, but could never per
plex, or put him out, as they said. He received
aU such interruptions with tranquillity of looks, and
though they sometimes put their jokes into a prac
tical form, he never remonstrated nor complained,
but was resolved to overcome them by imperturbable
good humour, as he seemed determined to conquer
them in art by resolution and study. He was often
in those days heard to say, but in an under-tone,
Avith Burns —
" Come, firm Resolve, take thou the van,
Thou stalk of carle-hemp in man."
And from this he never SAverved nor shrunk. When
his fellow-students foUowed him into his two-pair-of-
stairs study in Nicholson Street, they found aU in
keeping, they said, with his demeanour in the Aca
demy. The Bible and The Gentle Shepherd, a sketch
or two on the waU, a table and a few chairs, with
a fiddle whose strings, when he grew tired with
draAving, he touched to a favourite air, were the chief

^t. 18. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 53
articles: neither lay-figures covered Avith silk, nor
easels of poUshed mahogany were there ; a few
brushes, and a few colours, and palette made by his
own hands, may be added. The fiddle Avas to him
then and long after an useful instrument ; its music,
he said, not only soothed himself, but put his Uve
models who sat for his shepherds and husbandmen
into the sort of humour AA'hich he desired; nay, he
often pleased so much, that one of them, an old rough
mendicant —
" Whose wallets before and behind did hang,"
to whom he had played a welcome air, refused the
pence when offered, and strode down the stair, say
ing, " Hout ! put up your pennies, man ; I was e'en
as glad o' the spring as ye were !" He sometimes,
too, in a land where Uving models of any other part
save the head or hand are difficult to obtain for either
love or money, made himself into his own model;
and Avith a bared foot, a bared ancle, or a bared knee,
would sit at the looking glass tUl he confessed that
he was almost benumbed by exposure. Nor did he
desist when a friend knocked; he would say, " Come
in," nor move from his posture, but dehberately ex
plain his object, and continue to draw tiU he had
made the sketch.
Some time in the year 1804 Wilkie quitted the
Trustees' Academy : he left it with the good wishes
and regrets of aU; for he was loved much for his
good nature, as weU as admired for his talents.
With a letter written afterwards by his master to
the Rev. David WUkie of Cults, we shaU conclude
e 3

54 THE LEFE OF 1804.
his studies in Edinburgh: — "I look upon it," says
Graham, "not as altogether sufficient barely to in
struct youth in the actual mode or practice of the
profession ; but also to inform their minds with a cor
rect sense of what is proper, in order that they may
act for themselves and towards others as good men,
without which they never can be good artists. I feel
much pleasure in informing you, that of aU the young
men who have been under my care, none of them ap
peared to me, either to be so desirous to learn or so
attentive, when I gaA'e them my opinion, as your son
David. I have seen some doubts expressed by the
critics, whether his talents were equal to the higher
Une of art. They know him not. He is capable of
carrying through the most elevated and elegant part
of his art, perhaps with as much success as those
subjects from wliich he has merited so much praise.
The more dehcacy required in the execution of a sub
ject, the more successful he wiU be. In some of his
first essays in painting when with me, he then eAdnced
a degree of taste which bore a great resemblance to
the manner of Correggio, who ranks amongst the
highest masters of the art." This letter is remark
able for holding out the finger, as it were, to the
higher path AA'hich at a future day he was destined
to pursue.

Mt. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 55

CHAPTER III.
RETURNS TO CULTS  CHARACTER OF DAA'ID ALLAN.  PAINTS
"PITLESSIE FAIR.'  SEES AND OBTAINS A LAY-FIGDRE FOR THE
FIRST TIME.  PAINTS SEVERAL PORTRAITS AND THE PICTURE OF
" THE ATLLAGE RECRUIT."  STARTS FOR LONDON.
He was Uttle more than eighteen years of age when,
haA'ing acquired aU the Trustees' Academy could then
teach, and which WUkie never rated highly, he re
turned to his father's manse, Avith a taste hovering
between a hrve of subjects of a domestic and dramatic
nature, to which he felt fame belonged, and to the
equaUy domestic and more popular hne of portrait
painting, which he could see that fortune foUowed. A
natural taste and an in-born genius inclined him to
the first; but the necessity of his fortunes obhged
him to work at the other, and for a time he united
both. As the head of the former he looked up to
DaAdd Allan, whose fame had some time before risen
in the north from his designs, conceived in a truly
pastoral spirit, for Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd — a
drama which Wilkie himself, towards the close of his
short and briUiant career, informed me it was his
purpose to embellish. Nor was Allan unknoAvn from
want of pictures of a more ambitious reach — his
Highland Dance, Penny Wedding, and Repentance
Stool, had their influence on the popular mind ; who
e 4

56 THE LIFE OF 1804.
saw in them that Scottish manners and character had
at length found a painter. Nor were the words of the
poet of Scotland then a secret, who said that he
regarded David Allan and Robert Burns as the only
genuine and real painters oT Scottish costume (both of
body and mind) in the world. •
It is true that in the works of David Allan there is
little of that dramatic skill in which Hogarth and
Wilkie so excel; almost none of those proprieties of
composition or of handling which belong to natural
taste, and which, with higher quahties, compose the
genius without which nothing great or impressive
can be achieved ; nor yet has he much to spare of that
quiet rustic Avitty grace, the sure inheritance of the
clouted shoe of the north. But he had an eye for the
ludicrous, and a taste for droUery and humour, great
skiU in dehneations of old odd Avives, queer old cot
tages Avith older furniture, and in giving the realities
of life and nature as he found them. He seemed defi
cient in the finer sensibilities of the heart, and Uttle
acquainted with lofty emotions.
To portrait painting Wilkie was not only attracted
by bread, but by fame of old . standing, which had
reached from Jameson, the first true portrait-painter
of the isle, to Ramsay and to Raeburn ; the second of
whom had acquired a fortune, and the third fame and
fortune too. Raeburn, even Avhile Wilkie studied in
Edinburgh, stood at the head of his art in the north
undisturbed by a rival. His style Avas manly and
vigorous ; he entered little into the detail of the face,
but called the mind into the countenance, and fixed
it there Avith a happiness of expression in which he

.Et. 19. SLR DAVID AVTLKIE. 57
found few who shared. He lived in affluence and
hospitaUty, visited and dined among the first born of
the land, and had a residence and a gaUery of a
splendour new to Scottish art. AU this could not
but be present to the mind of WUkie when he turned
his thoughts on the profession he had chosen, and
calculated its chances: he Avas conscious of uncom
mon powers; and these were accompanied by a
modest and temperate ambition, whose equal and
continuous warmth was less likely to cool or die than
those sudden flashings out, mistaken sometimes for
the steady fire of genius. He had freed himself from
the fetters of the Academy, shght as they were ; he
had retired to the sohtude of Cults, and had now to
look about for a subject on which he might try his
talents. He hesitated, I have heard, in the choice
of a domestic scene, between a field preaching and
a vUlage fair; but the latter prevaUed, for he was
fearful of the charge of profanity, urged by many
against The Holy Fair of Burns ; and as the neigh
bouring vUlage of Pitlessie had in its season a fair,
had much too of the queer picturesque which the
painter loved, and possessed original characters suf
ficient of its own, with those of the adjoining district,
to people whole acres of canvass, he resolved to choose
this for the scene of his meditated picture, and to call
it The Country Fair.
AU this seems to have been settled in his OAvn mind
in the summer of 1804; for he thus Avrites in August
to one of his feUow-students in Edinburgh : — " I have
now fairly begun to The Country Fair. I have the
advantage of our herd-boy and some chUdren Avho

58 THE LIFE OF 1804.
Uve about the place as standers ; and I now see how
superior painting from nature is to any thing that
our imagination, assisted by our memory, can con
ceive." He had, with that diligence for wliich he
was ever remarkable, already visited Pitlessie, and
made what may be caUed a working sketch of the
place — house, and street, and stream — and draAvn in
rough masses the various groups whom busmess or
pleasure had caUed to the market; then stretchmg
canvass on a frame, the largest he had yet used,
measuring twenty-five inches high, and forty-four
inches wide, he desired to begin, but was in want of
an easel. A ready hand never lacks a tool : a chest
of drawers stood in the room; he pulled out the
centre draAver ; placed the lower side of the canvass
upon it; and leaning the upper part against the
cornice, found it to answer in every way; and, as he
told his feUow-student Fraser, he never had a handier
easel in his hfe, or one on which he painted better.
But when he had sketched the scene of the picture
in large on the cam-ass, he had then to select his cha
racters Avith which to people his landscape. These he
went to seek at Pitlessie on a market day. He saw,
as he went, every townland and glen send forth its
people, and, when he reached the vUlage, he found the
street, a long and somewhat winding one, occupied
with shoemakers selling shoes, AveaA'ers selling webs,
rustics selling hens and ducks, lasses seUing fresh
butter and eggs, and old women Avith staU or basket
seUing sugar-candy and sugar-plums: OA'er aU was
heard the voice of a travelling auctioneer who sold
coloured beads and striped ribbons for the gayer part

.Et. 19. SLR DAATD WLLKIE. 59
ofthe audience, whUe the voice of a ballad-singer vend
ing provincial verse mingled its dolorous tones Avith
the k> any one bids more " of the other. We may add
to these sights and sounds the recruiting sergeant Avith
his ribbons streaming in the air, the drum summon
ing the martial lads of Cults to the path of glory ;
and the loAving of cattle in the distance, from whose
goaded steps the wandering dealer in tea-dishes and
jugs can scarce protect her brittle ware ; whUe watch
ing aU, Avithout seeming to do so, walk the grave dig
nitaries of the district — the ministers and elders —
not insensible, as they go, to the charms of the lasses
who enter now in beA-ies into the joys of the fair.
But he soon found that to take a portrait while
walking or riding was one thing, and to limn it whUe
the sitter was beside the easel, and the artist had aU
his appliances around him, was another ; but how to
obtain such leisurely sittings perplexed him, for the
magnates of Strath-Eden opposed many obstacles, some
on the score of vanity, some on that of rehgion, to
have their faces recorded in the scenes of a fair. As
a last resource, WUkie one day, during sermon, saw
one of the characters marked out for his picture nod-
dine in his seat in the kirk ; he glanced his quiet eye
on him, and applying his pencU — it was one of red
chalk — to the blank leaf of his Bible, fairly sketched
him off Avithout any one being aware. After the slum-
berin°- he ventured on those awake, Avith equal success,
but not Avith like secrecy. AU the notables of Pitlessie,
Avith his douce grandfather included, found their Avay
to book or to paper, and from thence to the canvass ;
nor were they quite aAvare of the extent of his hmn-

60 THE LIFE OF 1804.
ings till the picture itself was finished, and then it is
said — I quote the words of one who seems to have
been well informed — " Into this piece he has intro
duced about one hundred and forty figures, most of
which are portraits. Among these are his father
and several of the farmers and rustics of the vUlage,
whose Ukenesses he took at church, for which profane
conduct, as the rigid Presbyterians would deem it,
very heavy complaints were made to the father of the
youthful artist."* What answer he made to their
complaint was not known till lately, when Professor
GiUespie informed me that Sir David, on being expos
tulated with, said that any one who practised portrait
painting knew that the ear was not engaged in the
work, for, being a business of the eye and hand alone,
he could draw as well as Usten. Some of our most
eminent artists encourage their sitters to converse
with them while their portraits are in hand; thus
confirming the words of WUkie, and those of Reynolds
also, who said that portrait painting required no
thought. This picture was painted for Kinnear of Kinloch,
a gentleman of Fife, the first of the land who perceived
the genius of WUkie. It has a great variety of incident
and character: the figures are, though numerous,
finely grouped; and notwithstanding the bustle ofthe
scene, there is no crushing or crowding. The colouring
has been said by a critic to be too uniform and
glowing, and that it wanted cool colours to give value
* To MacDonald he writes, in December, 1804, " I have not got the
Fair finished yet, but it is pretty well on, and people of all ranks come to
see it."

JEt. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 61
and contrast to the Avarm ones : others have said that
it wants something of Wilkie's after-clearness of tone
and touch, which Avas probably to be imputed to his
inexperience in the method of paintmg in oU. The
great merit of the picture is in its variety of character,
and in the drania-like way in which the story of the
scene is evolved : no domestic picture of such high
merit had been produced before in Scotland. WUkie
in the year 1812 observes to Sir George Beaumont, —
" the picture of the Country Fair, I saw, when I was
last in Scotland; and although it is no doubt very
badly painted, it has more subject, and more enter
tainment in it than any other three pictures I have
since produced."
The picture of Pitlessie Fair is in its nature essen
tiaUy provincial and individual. The scene is depicted,
vUlage and stream, exactly as the painter found it,
and aU the persons in the drama we can safely hold
up our right for the identity of hi the county court :
they are such as are to be met at kirk and market,
and their names are in the register book: it is no
picture of the fancy, but the portrait of a vUlage with
its people; and, as such, it is one of the finest of its
kind. But WUkie did not long continue in this
bondage : he stamped on his next great picture one
ruling sentiment and one pervading action, and
shaped his forms and suited the expression to reflect
the mind rather than individuahty ; he used nature
stUl, but moulded it to his purposes.
The artist for a whUe did not venture, save to his
friends, to caU this picture Pitlessie Fair; for it is said
that some of the district worthies who figure there

62 THE LIFE OF 1804
affected displeasure, and that even his father, who
is represented standing conversing with a pubhcan,
looked grave at this tUl some one suggested that he
seemed in the act of warning the other to keep a
decorous house. It is thought — and the sketches of
heads which he made from the congregation of Cults
support this — that he once contemplated a scene of
far broader humour and more obstreporous merri
ment. Those sketches amount to at least a dozen,
and sleep is depicted there, from the first faint dawn
of drowsiness to the final and effectual snore. One,
evidently a person of substance, strives with aU his
skiU to keep his eyes open, but the Uds drop in spite
of him, as though they were of lead. A lady, who
seems to be his wife, Avith a round plump face, smooth
and trembhng in its fat Uke a new turned out print of
jelly, is fairly retired mouth and nose within a ram
part of double chin, and the closing tAvinkle of her
smaU grey eyes, Uke candles expiring in grease, inti
mate the enjoyment of a dose. Over the broad face
of another worthy drowsiness is silently stealing, like
mist over a landscape : he keeps up bravely, and
wishes it to be thought devoutly; but a certain
twitching about the corners of his mouth, which ap
pears ready to yawn, and an admonitory nip Avith his
finger and thumb which he gives his nose, show that
he must, in his turn, submit too to slumber; whUe
another, whom, Avith the wags of Cults, we shaU caU
the precentor, overcome probably by the vehemence
with which he had sung three double verses of a
psalm to the tune of Bangor, and luUed by the voice
of the preacher, indulges in what he reckons an un-

^t. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 63
seen snooze, which seems about to become a gaping
snore, fit to infect a whole eoninvsmtion. The artist,
however, aA-oided the allurements of humour such as
this ; nor did he, saA'e in one or two groups, stumble
into the dirty Dutch path to reputation, and waUoAV
in a mire unworthy of being painted.
The muse has not reckoned Pitlessie Fair unworthy
of her thoughts : a poet, as weU as scholar, who calls
the picture i- the earhest, and in aU those graphic ex-
ceUencies bv which the pencU of Wilkie has since been
distinguished, perhaps the richest of his productions,"
thus records in numbers one of the many groups of
which it is composed : —
" Loud rolls the drum amidst the rolling mass,
As through the crowd recruiting parties pass ;
The sergeant stalks, in all the pomp of war,
His sword and helmet glitt'ring from afar.
Behind him march, in scarlet bright array'd,
The plumed victims of his bloody trade.
In tatter'd doublet, bringing up the rear,
Comes the recruit, compell'd to volunteer
By drink or debt : he musters all his train,
Halts mid the mob, and thus begins his strain : —
' Is there a lad whose parents are unkind,
Or who has found no master to his mind ;
Whose sweetheart has beguil'd him — won his heart —
Jilted, then left him to endure the smart ;
One lad of spirit, who disdains to toil,
And sweat, and slave, and turn the sullen soil,
His be this purse, with twenty shining guineas,
And his a bowl of punch might float a pinnace.'
Old Andrew Gammell shakes his scarlet rags
Full in his face, and waves his beggar bags ;
Cries, ' Bairns, I follow'd twenty years the drum,
Through fields of glory — then's the aftercome !' "
Old Andrew GammeU, whom the poet, as weU as the
painter, has introduced, had not yet attained aU his

64 THE LIFE OF 1804,
fame : he sat to Sir Walter Scott for his inimitable
Edie Ochiltree, and has thus done good service to
painting and romance. We may as weU add here,
that besides the father and grandfather of Sir David,
he introduced the portraits of his sister, his sister-in-
law, and himself into this picture: they contribute
their share of entertainment — their quota of cha
racter — and are pointed out by those, and they are
now many, who visit this truly admirable production.
While WUkie was at work on Pitlessie Fair, a
present, as unlooked for as Avelcome, was made to
him, which it may be as well to describe in his OAvn
Avords: — "I wrote to you" — he thus Avrites to a
fellow-student in Edinburgh on the 23d of October,
1804 — " a fortnight ago, desirmg you to send me a
glass and case, and a piece of ivory, which are not
yet come to hand. The cause of my writing now is
to desire you to send me a piece of ivory the same
size as the piece of paper enclosed, for painting a
miniature on.
" The Reverend Dr. Martin of Monimail has just
now made me a very handsome present of two lay-
figures which belonged to his brother, the painter,
each of them measuring about three feet in height,
and having the same proportions as the human
figure. They are old, and perhaps not so good now
as they have been; but when I began to examine
them, I was surprised to find what fine workmanship
has been bestoAved upon them. Their joints are
made of brass, and move upon the same principle and
in the same direction each way as the bones of the
human body, and instead of skin there is a silk cloth

^r.19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 65
made to cover the whole body, Avhich stretches and
contracts as the limbs move. One is male and the
other a female ; and I have got some clothes made for
them in the low style ; and I have begun to try their
utUity by practice, which I find a\1U be very great
indeed in draperies, for I have no more to do but put
on what clothes I want, and place the figure in the
proper position, in which it wUl keep without moving
as long as I require. I am coming much quicker on
with the Fair since I got these figures, for which I
cannot enough thank the generosity of Dr. Martin."
This is the description of an artist who evidently
sees a lay-figure for the first time, and Avritten, too,
to one who was in equal ignorance of the existence of
such an auxiliary to study. The Trustees' Academy
had casts from the antique, and the students were
permitted to paint in oUs; but they seem to have been
Avithout the help of this moveable piece of mechanism
to enable them to adjust the drapery of their groups ;
nor had they authority to study from the naked figure,
without which the students could see no more in their
art than other men had seen. Wilkie had now got a
lay-figure, which, unlike the herd-boy, would not tire
in any posture : he had got dresses, too, made, not in
the high cut of foreign art, but in the humble fashion
of the husbandmen of Strath-Eden, so that aU might
be in character. He had also caused an easel to be
made, which, unhke the old chest of drawers, aUowed
his canvass to slide up or doAvn, and could be moved
more or less to the hght as was required. These are
a sample of the difficulties which were in the way of
this great artist to fame, in the contending Avith which
VOL. I. f

66 THE LIFE OF 1804.
he reckoned that he acquired much of his skiU ; for it
was his opinion, that the student whose road was made
smooth by aU manner of faculties, never learned his
profession thoroughly, and that in overcoming obstacles
he Avas mastering his art.
WhUe he was employed on the picture of Pitlessie
Fair, it began to be whispered about the district that
the minister's son of Cults, who drew boys' heads at
school when he should have learned his lesson, and
caricatured the elders of the parish in their oavh seats
in the church, was hkely to be distinguished yet in
the land. That he who drew a man's foot hke a fish,
and, in the opinion of the secretary of the Trustees'
Academy, was unfitted by nature for a painter, should
yet carry away the prize of ten guineas, was hard to
be beUeved, and to some seemed incredible ; yet so it
was : and then the old sages of the land began to say,
" Ay, ay ! I aye thought there was something above
the common in the boy:" nor did an old dame, who
with some passed for a prophetess, hesitate to assert,
that, as there was a Sir David Lindsay in poetry, there
would be a Sir David WUkie in painting ; and that
she Avould live to see it. We know not that Wilkie
was knighted that the old dame's words might be ful
fiUed ; but it is certain her words had circulation, and
credence too, in Strath-Eden a round score of years
before the sword was laid on his shoulder.
But these honours had yet to be won by well di
rected study and successful labour — by days of pri
vation and anxiety — and by all the travaU which
genius has to undergo, before it wins the applause of
the world. We have seen that even whUe he was at

Mt. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 67
Avork on his first great picture he Avas preparing to
commence portrait-painter, and that he ordered as
much ivory as woidd enable him to paint tAvo minia
tures. One of these Avas the portrait of a singular
Frenchman, from Avhom he experienced civilities at
Crawford Lodge : and who had as fine a marked face,
I haA'e heard WUkie say, as he had a kind heart.
Experience in his art Avas his constant desire: the
more he studied, the more he perceived his deficiency :
in the Trustees' Academy he never thought himself
skilful. The praise of friends (and that was not
wanting) neA'er got a better appro \ral than a doubtful
shake of the head; and in the happiest of his works
he always saw room for improvement, and said he
hoped to do better yet. He was ever inquiring into the
use and nature of colours, and was so much pleased
with a book by Ibbotson on the use of oU colours,
that he copied the whole work, which was rather rare
at the time, AA'ith his pen, and mixing his palettes
according to the counsel of the author, communicated
that grey leaden hue to some of his early works,
which is observable eA'en in The BUnd Fiddler.
His portraits painted at this time in Fife are nu
merous : we shaU name but a few. Of miniatures, in
addition to the one already mentioned, there is, 1.
Mr. Vial; 2. Mr. Moncrieff ; 3. John Wilkie; 4. James
WUkie. Of the size of Ufe, he painted, 1 . Mr. and
Mrs. Beaton of Blebo, with their daughter, on one
canvass ; 2. Mr. Morison of Naughton, and Miss
Beaton of Blebo, on one canvass ; 3. Dr. Menzies, of
Durie; 4. two of the sons of Mr. Christie, banker in
Cupar; 5. Mrs. Graham of Greigston; 6. Dr. Grace
f 2

68 THE LIFE OF

1804.

of Cupar. There are many others — paintings, draw
ings, and sketches — in oil, in chalks, or in lead. A
few of them are conversation pieces — a family at a
table, sitting round the fire, engaged in devotion or
conversing. One of the best of these represents his
father and his mother seated, with serene and devout
looks, meditating on the sacrament, of which they
are to be partakers on the morrow. AU these por
traits have the merit of being faithful both to form
and expression: there is no attempt to flatter; or, in
other words, to bring the drawing within the science
of the art : truth seems his aim, and what he aims at
he accomplishes. But it has been observed of these
his early, as it has been of his later portraits, that they
want the look and air of the works of regular portrait-
painters, and seem to be heads withdrawn from some
domestic or historical picture, where they had a part
to perform; a difference which some regard as a
beauty, others as a blemish. To these works we may
add a boy watering a grey horse — long a sign to an
ale-house, but now in the coUection of Mr. Methven
of Cupar, and much admired.
To this period belongs the picture caUed The
Bounty Money, or The Village Recruit*, a subject
borrowed from the Ufe ; a sight often witnessed during
the great French war, Avhen some unsteady lad —
crossed vrith love, or crazed Avith drink — moved by
the drum, took the enlisting shillmg from the recruit
ing sergeant, who assured aU Usteners that his regi
ment was the most blackguard corps in the service,
* In the collection of Wynn Ellis, Esq., M. P.

^T. 19. SIR DAATO WILKIE. 09
and steady men were sure of preferment, and, mount
ing the cockade, marched off in quest of glory. There
are feUoAvs who look fonvard to the enlistment of a
fresh candidate for glory as a circmnstaiice which
may not increase the honour of the army, but avUI
put some loose sUver into circulation, and make the
pint stoup clatter — in Avhich the sergeant aatII at
least drink his aUowance, and the recruit his bounty.
The scene is laid in a country ale-house : tAvo ex
perienced soldiers stand expatiating on the pleasures
of an active campaign in a foreign land, where coined
gold is to be had for the gathering, and Unen is found
on every hedge : three rustics are Ustening Avith gaping
ecstasy to the description — not so the recruit; he is
seated on the change-house table, waiting, jug in
hand, for the drawing of the cork out of a bottle of
ale, which requires aU the might of the waiter to
extract : the latter shuts his eyes, and sets his teeth
to the task ; and the former sucks his Ups, in unison
with the chirking sound of the cork as it comes
reluctantly out of the neck of the bottle. An old man
sits sUently smoking his pipe by the fire. Some of
the groups in this picture — now weU known through
the able graver of Fox — are equal to any after effort
of the artist.
The drawings and sketches of earlier times are
numerous in Fife ; though many, it is said, were de
stroyed by the artist's orders, when, after his father's
death, the fannly removed to London. 1. A rude
sketch in water colours of the beadle of Cults, coming
home at evening faU from his labour ; his spade is over
his shoulder, his dog at his heels, and his Avife stands

70 THE LIFE OF 1804.
at his cottage door to receive him. He was little
more than eleven when he sketched this. 2. A scene
from The Gentle Shepherd, in water colours, drawn
when he was at school ; in possession of Mrs. Cock-
burn of Cupar. 3. A shipwreck, sketched in Indian
ink : the sea is in high commotion ; a dismantled
vessel is drifting upon rocks, and a young man on
horseback has plunged into the surf, and is rescuing
two mariners from drowning. The artist's name is on
the drawing. 4. A small portrait of Captain Bar
clay, on a deal board, and said by tradition to be his
first attempt in oU. 5. Portrait of John Anderson,
his cousin, painted while at Graham's Academy ; it is
about eight inches square, on a deal board, and is
now a little faded. 6. Portrait of his sister Helen;
measures twelve inches by ten, and is on pasteboard.
She stands with her hands crossed — " Whether from
its style, or the beauty of the girl, I know not," says
a gentleman of taste in Fife; "but it is a portrait
one is apt to fall in love with." 7. Portrait, un
finished, of his cousin James Anderson; the size of
life. When Wilkie visited Cults for the last time,
he looked on this portrait and said, " A very good
likeness." Having finished, but not to his mind, Pitlessie
Fair, and exhausted, for the present, the sitters of
Cults and Cupar, Wilkie began to think of carrying
his talents to another market. He looked on Fife
and its circle of sea-coast towns with the eye of King
James, who called it a shepherd's plaid hemmed
round Avith pearls, and went and set up his easel first,
it is said, in Kinghorn, and next in St. AndreAvs;

^T. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 71
nay, he even went as far as Aberdeen : but so little
impression had art made on the eastern coast that
he found very Icav sitters; neither could he obtain
either colours or brushes — canvass or iA^ory. He re
turned quickly and unreluctantly tOAvards the south,
and began to think how art followed, rather than led
wealth : and that Scotland, much as she loved song,
loved it not the less that it was cheap ; and was un
able from her poverty, rather than her Avant of sym
pathy, to indulge in a taste which included the ex-
pensiA'e productions of painting and sculpture. He
began to feel that, Uke the seed of a flower dropt in
the desert mstead of the garden, he could neither
thrive nor strike root : and concluded that he must
seek the warmth of the south, and forsake the cold of
the north.
When he communicated his resolution of going to
London to study at the Royal Academy to his father,
the minister, it is said, strove to dissuade him; and
his mother urged his indifferent health, to which she
was afraid the confined air of a great city would be
injurious. It was true, his father said, that he had
pleased many with his pictures, and that there seemed
to him much that was natural and beautiful in the
compositions : but in London he would have to strive
Avith estabUshed reputations, stand up in competition
Avith masters of the caUing; and Avhat hope had he,
— a youth Avho had never drank at the fountains of
Roman art, nor seen the works which men were accused
of worshipping, so much of diA'ine beauty was in
them — to succeed in such an adventure? Though
the perils of the way were carefuUy pointed out, neither
f 4

72 THE LIFE OF 1805.
father nor mother forbade him to try it ; so, coUecting
together his studies, sketches, draAvings, and pictures —
caUing in aU the money OAving to him in the district
for portraits, disposing of Pitlessie Fair for the sum of
five and twenty pounds to Mr. Kinnear, and bidding
fareweU to his feUow students in Edinburgh, he saUed
in a Leith packet for London, on the 20th of May,
1805, when nineteen years and six months old.

Mr. 19. SIR DAVTD WILKIE. 73

CHAPTER IV-
HIS FIRST LONDON LODGLN'0.  HIS FIRST EXHIBITION.  ENTERS
HIS NAME AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY AS A PROBATIONER.  MR.
HATDON'S DESCRIPTION OF HIM AT THIS TIME. — SOMERSET HOUSE
EXHIBITION OF 1805.  LETTERS TO MR. MAC DONALD AND THE
REV. DAATD AVTLKTE.  EARLY DIFFICULTIES.  WANT OF ENCOU
RAGEMENT.  MEDITATES RETURNING TO SCOTLAND.  INTRO
DUCED BY MR. STODART TO THE EARL OF MANSFIELD.  PAINTS
ASD EXHIBITS " THE VILLAGE POLITICIANS."
Wllkle loved to relate how he thought on the blue
and lofty Lomonds as he skirted the low-lying coast
of England, and wondered at the clouds of smoke
which came rolling towards him, as he saUed up the
Thames through masts standing as thick as the trees
in the forest. The first step he took was to seek out
a convenient room for a study ; this he found at
No. 8. Norton Street, Portland Road, in the house of
a coal-merchant: his second was to seek out some
pubUc place where he might display his pictures, to
make his works known and attract purchasers ; and
the third step was to enter his name at the Royal
Academy as a probationer. As the classes of the
Academy close when the annual exhibition opens,
WUkie was unable to enter upon the studies which he
so much desired tUl the middle of July, but in the
meanwhUe the merits of his pictures found admirers :
people were observed to stop and stare at a shop win-

74 THE LLFE OF 1805.
dow near Charing Cross, where two or three of his
works were allowed to hang ; nay, some seemed AvUhng
to buy, but were deterred by the fear, which most men
have when they trust to their oaati judgment, of buying
a matter for ridicule rather than admiration. It is re
lated by a gentleman, now on the judgment-seat in mat
ters of ancient asweU as modern painting, that a wealthy
friend came to him one morning, and told him he had
seen what he thought a very clever httle picture for six
pounds in a window at Charing Cross, painted by one
Wilkie, but that he was afraid to buy it. " Oh, buy
it by aU means," said the other; " it cannot be alto
gether bad if you admire it : risk six pounds on your
OAvn taste." He returned to the window where he had
seen the picture, but it was gone : some one who had
trust in his own taste had bought it.*
When the Academy opened, WUkie, who had gained
admission as a probationer by means of a draAving from
the Niobe, took his seat vrith his class. Something of
his Edinburgh fame had come before him ; Jackson,
at that time a student, seems to haATe seen as weU as
heard of him, for he wrote to Haydon, then young and
ardent, to hasten from Devonshire, for that a tall,
pale, thin Scotsman had just come to study at the
Academy, who had done something from Macbeth, of
Avhich report spoke highly. " Touched Avith this,"
said Haydon, " I came at once to London and went to
the Academy ; WUkie, the most punctual of mankind,
was there before me. We sat and drew in sUence for
some time : at length Wilkie rose, came and looked over
* I am assured by one who had the means of knowing that The Vil
lage Recruit was the picture thus exhibited.

iET.19. SIR DAVID AVLLKIE. 75
my shoulder, said nothing, and resumed his seat. I
rose, went and looked OA'er his shoulder, said nothing,
and resumed my seat. We saAv enough to satisfy us
of each other's skUl, and when the class broke up avc
went and dmed together. Wilkie Avas, as Jackson had
described him, taU, pale, and thin, Avith blue and un
common bright eyes, a nose rather short, and a mouth
fuU of humour of the quietest and richest kind."
The acquaintance thus begun ripened, I may say,
into friendship : it is true they had frequent disputes
in art. Haydon, an admirer of the grand style, whose
first word was Raphael, and his second Michael An
gelo, was unwilling to admire merit of a loAver order,
and rather than be less, chose not to be at aU : whUe
WUkie, with a wider reach of mind and a less exclu-
siAe taste, saw much to admire in works of humbler
fame, and contended that though the rose exceUed in
beauty aU other flowers of the field, we were not to
despise the daisy, which had a lovefiness aU its own.
These Uttle bickerings, in which the quick and Uvely
spirit of the EngUshman gave him, with those who
did not think deeply, some advantage over the slow
and deUberate Scot, were never carried beyond the
limits of courtesy ; and though the former, among his
smarter associates, reckoned the latter, with his slow
speech and less ready mind, something tedious, they
esteemed each other's talents, and maintained a sort
of friendship which resembled an armed neutrality.
" Wilkie, who was always hospitable in his nature,"
said Haydon, " invited me one morning to breakfast,
soon after his arrival in London. I Avent accordingly
to 8. Norton Street, knocked at the door of his apart-

76 THE LLFE OF 1805.
ments : a voice caUed ' Come in ! ' I opened the door,
and found, instead of the breakfast which I expected,
the painter sitting partly naked, and drawing from
his left knee for a figure which he had on his easel.
He was not at aU moved, for naught moved WUkie;
and when I expressed some surprise at what he was
about, he replied, with a smUe, ' It's capital practice,
let me teU you.' " Of these early days of study,
WUkie thus writes to a friend in the North : —
Dear Sir,
I am still attending the Royal Academy, which
I make a point of doing from morning tUl night : at
present, as I understand, there is to be no Academy
aU the month of September. I have got acquainted
with some of the students, who seem to know a good
deal of the cant of criticism, and are very seldom dis
posed to aUow any thing merit that is not two hun
dred years old.
I have seen a great many very fine pictures of the
old school, which have given me a taste very different
from that which I had when I left Edinburgh, and I
am convinced now that no picture can possess real
merit unless it is a just representation of nature. I
have not seen any of Barry's pictures yet, though by
aU accounts he must be a wonderful man. Peter
Pindar says he is the first painter of the Enghsh
school. D. W.
Reynolds, on aU occasions, expressed great dislike
for talking artists ; nor were they much relished by

Mt. 19. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 77
Wilkie. " Let us be domg something," Avas his ob
lique mode of rebuking the loquacious, and admonish
ing the idle. The cant of criticism, of Avhich he
complains, he found strong among the smart, pert,
setf-sufficient students of the Royal Academy. Of the
merits of some of the leading academicians he thus
Avrites to his feUow-student MacDonald on the 15th of
July, 1805:—
" You avUI, perhaps, have been expecting that I
should have Avritten you sooner, but I thought proper
to wait till I should be admitted into the Royal Aca
demy, and then I would give you aU I had to say at
once. The Academy was not opened tiU Monday
last. I have been here for upwards of six weeks,
and during aU that time I have been spending money
to no purpose. I need not be very particular in
recounting every occurrence that has happened since
I left you; let it suffice that I landed here safe on
the Friday after I saw you, and here I am still.
Amongst the first things that I did after landing
here, I went to see the Exhibition at Somerset House,
Avith which I was Aery much amused: there were
pictures of all descriptions, some good and some bad;
but I understand this year's Exhibition, comparatively,
was a very poor one, which always AviU be considered
so when the principal pictures are portraits. Opie,
Hoppner, and Lawrence seem to be the principal
painters in that Une ; though Opie gives great force,
yet he surely is a dirty painter. The only great
historical picture in it, and the one that attracted
most notice, was a picture by West, of ' Thetis bring-

78 THE LIFE OF

1805.

ing armour to AchiUes,' which was certainly a very
grand design, but I did not like it as weU as some
others of, Mr. West's that I have seen since. There
was ' a Boy and an Ass' by Allan, in one of the
rooms, which I beUeve you must have seen before he
left Scotland. I think AUan might have done it
better. He has made dark narrow shadows and hard
reflected lights, which I don't at aU Uke ; but he says
that that is the way that Opie produces such effects.
AUan is now gone to try his fortune at St. Peters-
burgh, and saUed from this about a fortnight ago.
This is certainly a bold adventure ; but he was deter
mined to go abroad somewhere or other, and I hope
he may succeed.
"Since I came to town, I have conversed with some
of the first artists in the kingdom: I have been in
troduced to Flaxman, NoUekens, FuseU, and West.
Mr. Flaxman is the best modeUer we have. I was
introduced to him by a letter that I brought Avith me
from Scotland; and he introduced me to Mr. Fuseh,
who is the professor of painting in the Academy, and
a very kind good sort of man he is. He questioned
me about our artists in Edinburgh — inquired if Gra
ham painted any. He had heard of the fame of
Raeburn; he admired the works of the celebrated
Runciman, and asked if I had ever seen his Ossian's
Hall at Penny cuick : he also inquired about David
AUan, and, for aU his bad draAving, allowed him a
very considerable degree of merit. A friend of mine,
who is a very great connoisseur, took me to Mr.
West's house, where we found that celebrated artist
engaged in painting a picture ; but how much was I

Mt. 19. SIE DA\aD WILKIE. 7!)
astonished at his Avonderful Avorks, Avhich, for grandeur
of design, clearness of colouring, and correct outline,
surpass any modern pictures I have yet seen: his
figures have, no doubt, a flatness about them, but,
Avith aU his faults, Ave have not a painter that can
draw Uke him.
'' I have been seeing a gaUery of pictures by Morland,
winch please me very much indeed. He seems to have
copied nature in every thing, and in a manner pecuhar
to himself. When you look at his pictures you see in
them the very same figures that we see here every
day in the streets, which, from the variety and loose
ness in their dress, form an appearance that is truly
picturesque, and much superior to our peasantry in
Scotland. I haA'e also seen some pictures by Teniers,
which for clear touching certainly go to the height of
human perfection in art : they make aU other pictures
look misty beside them. As for Turner, whom you
haA'e heard AUan speak of, I do not at aU understand
his method of painting: his designs are grand, the
effect and colouring natural, but his manner of hand-
Ung is not to my taste ; and although his pictures are
not large, you must see them from the other end of
the room before they can satisfy the eye.
" I must now conclude Avith teUing you that I like
this place very weU, and that I avUI remain here as
long as I can. I am admitted as a probationer into
the Royal Academy, which I attend from 11 till
2 o'clock, and from 5 till 7. I live about a mile and
a half from it, which is a good long walk twice a
day.
"D. W."

80 THE LIFE OF 1805.
Of his way of living in London he thus Avrites to
his brother Captain James WUkie. The picture is
curious. Dear Brother,
I am now come to like this place extremely
weU, for I have every thing here I can wish for, and, al
though I Uve at a much greater expense than I did in
Edinburgh, yet I also find that I live much better.
I breakfast at home, and dine at an ordinary, a place
where about a dozen gentlemen meet at 2 o'clock,
and have a dinner served up that only costs them 13d. a
head, which I am sure is as cheap as any person can
have such a dinner in any part of Great Britain:
besides, we have the advantage of hearing aU the
languages of Europe talked with the greatest fluency,
the place being mostly frequented by foreigners:
indeed, it is a very rare thing to see an EngUshman ;
whUe there are Corsicans, ItaUans, French, Germans,
Welsh, and Scotch.
I have formed a good number of acquaintances in
this place; among the rest Mr. MarshaU from Perth,
who was formerly acquainted Avith you when you
were in that place. D. W.
The house where he dined was in Poland Street,
and was kept by a man of the name of Charles. The
French mode of cooking Avhich prevailed there, Avith
its soups and stews, suited a Scottish taste better than
the heavier roast and boiled of English cookery : nor
was the comparative moderation of the charges unac-

Mt. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 81
ceptable to a student who came of no Avealthy race,
and was resolved to live Avithin his means. He had
other reasons for dining there : to Haydon, Avho some
times accompanied him, he pointed out an old visitor,
who, when his scanty meal Avas finished, seized a
newspaper, and gaA'e his whole heart so much to the
perusal, that he was lost to aU the din of conversation
and controversy which sometimes raged around him.
He is one of the persons in the drama of The YUlage
PoUticians. Of the early friends whom he found
in London he thus writes to his relative, John
Anderson : —
My dear Friend,
I have now been upwards of three months in
London, and haA'e been most of that time attending
the Royal Academy. I am not yet admitted as a
regular student, but have aU the privUeges that a
regular student has ; and as I am here for the sole
purpose of attending it, I make it my duty to do so
from morning tUl night. Since I came to town I
have had frequent opportunities of experiencing the
goodness of your friend John Wilkie, who (although
I had no other introduction to him than inquiring
for you) has been one of the greatest friends I have
had since I came to toAvn. While his brother Robert
was here he took me to a great many public places
with him ; and he has not only made me a welcome
guest at his own house, but has also introduced me
to another famUy of the same name, with whom I am
also on very intimate terms. I find myself very
happy and comfortable in this place, and have now
VOL. I. G

82 THE LIFE OF 1805.
found out the cheapest and most proper ways of
living. Though I live at double the expense here
that I did in Edinburgh, yet I find I Uve much
better. I am at present uncertain how long I may remain
in London; the truth is I can stay no longer here
than my money lasts, and I have no opportunity of
increasing it by portrait painting, as my time is
whoUy taken up in study ; therefore the probabihty is
that I wUl be obliged to return to Scotland by the
end of October, and faU to my old trade. If your
ship remains long in Yarmouth Roads I hope you avUI
Avrite to me often. D. W.
The indifferent success of his letters of recommend
ation suggested to him, when the pencU of domestic
manners became successful in his hand, The Letter of
Introduction, in which a somewhat soft and modest
country lad presents himself to a cold and suspicious
citizen. He thus writes, in September 1805, to James
Anderson : —
My dear Friend,
During the short time I have been in town I
have seen a great deal, and met with some very
strange characters. On my first arrival I boarded
myself in a house where there was scolding from
morning tiU night, which was the greatest entertain
ment to me for some time that could be ; and many a
broad hint did I get from the landlady of my bad be
haviour in laughing at their quarrels, which, however,

-Et. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 83
I at last grew tired of, and left the house. Ever since
I have stayed at a decent house in the Avest end of the
toAvn, where I find myself very happy and comfort
able, and in eA-ery respect I live avcU, though at a
great expense.
I got admitted into the Royal Academy as soon as
it was opened, and haA'e attended A'ery closely ever
smce. I ha\"e got acquainted Avith some families
here, Avhich we consider as a matter of importance, as
it is by that means alone we can be introduced to
company. I have found the letters of recommendation that I
brought of less weight than I might have expected. I
had three from Mr. Lister, one to Mr. MundeU, who
received me with a great deal of pohteness ; another
to Messrs. Paxton and CockereU, on whom I caUed a
great number of times and never found in ; and the
third was to D. MUes, on whom I also caUed two or
three times, and did not find him, and I have never
caUed on him since, for he happens to stay about ten
miles' distance from me. This is the reason why I
have not written to Mr. Lister, for I could give him
no good account of the letters he gave me. D. W.
The love of his family foUowed WUkie to London :
though distant, the arm of affection was still around
him. In other days there was a certain scriptural
simpUcity of intercourse between man and man which
prevaUed in the North. This is visible in all the
letters addressed by the minister of Cults to his son.
G 2

84 THE LIFE OF 1805.
He maintains the simpUcity ofthe early Presbyterian,
and says in the beginning, instead of " Dear Son,"
simply " David," He is alike anxious about his health
and his studies. " We are weU pleased," he writes,
" to hear that you have got a room to your mind in
the west end of the city : be careful to attend to your
diet, and do not fatigue yourself too much by either
walking or work. You have, no doubt, seen much
in your art already ; and it is proper that you should
be introduced to as many respectable characters as
you can. I need not desire you to be careful of your
expense. We sent Mr. Kinnear's picture (Pitlessie
Fair) to Kinloch last night."
To his father he writes (September 6. 1805) : —
Dear Father,
I received with a great deal of pleasure the
letter which you sent me from my brother John ; in
which he requests me to caU on a Mr. WooUey, at
the India House, who has a son in India in the same
battalion with himself, and who he is sure will be
of great serrice to me ; but he does not consider that
it is not an easy matter here to get introduced to a
person I never saw before, without having some
written credential certifying that I am the person I
pretend to be ; but this he has forgot to send me.
I was caUing on Mr. Stodart the other day, and I
inquired of him if he had any smaU piano-fortes by
him, which he said he sometimes had, and that he
could get second-hand ones so low as eight or ten
pounds ; but these he could not recommend : however,

-Et. 19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 8")
if I chose to go the length of tAventy pounds, I
might get a very good second-hand one, Avith addi
tional keys. But he thought Ave shoidd rather go the
length of a new one, whieh, although the}- do not
make them themsehes, he could get one from another
maker for twenty-three pounds, AA'hich would cost us
in a shop thirty pounds; but if it was known that
Helen was to have an instrument of that value, it
might excite envy through the whole country-side. D. W.
One of our critics, who had some reason to reflect
on fortune, says that a statue should be erected to
the honour of Chance, for to accident, rather than
weU-laid schemes, most men owe their success in
Ufe. This is but true in part : to the stupid and the
dull the brightest opening offers itself in vain, whUe
by a mind prepared to take advantage of this tide in
the affairs of men, which at one time or other flows
to aU, the golden opportunity is seized, and honour
and fame foUow. To this accidental visit of Wilkie
to Stodart, we may impute his almost immediate
ascent in art and reputation. The piano-forte maker
happened to be married to a WUkie ; had some taste
for painting, as weU as music ; and, in the way of his
business, Avas acquainted with the Countess of Mans
field, and her son the earl. " I now begin to feel
myself quite at home in London," WUkie thus writes
to his brother the captain. " I have got into the
humours and customs of the place, and become ac
quainted with many famUies of consequence. There is
g 3

86 THE LIFE OF 1805.
a Mr. Stodart here whom I am acquainted with, who
is grand piano-forte maker to the royal famUy : he is
married to a sister of Mr. WUkie of Bonnington : he is
at present sitting to me for his portrait. I have
thoughts of staying here aU winter, as I think it wUl
be of great advantage to me ; however, that is very
uncertain, as I cannot remain here long unless I can
get into. some work in the portrait way, which I have
now some hopes of." He writes in a simUar strain
to his father in a letter, dated October 1. 1805 : —
Dear Father,
I received the letter you sent me by Mr. John
CampbeU*, with a smaU miniature, &c. I have been
a little uneasy almost ever since I came to London
about having nothing to do that might turn to ac
count ; for although I had plenty of introductory
letters, yet nobody ever expressed the least desire of
seeing any of my pictures, or of sitting for their por
traits : however, the dawn of encouragement has at last
unexpectedly begun to appear, and I have now some
faint hopes of getting into employment, not unlike
that with which I was so much favoured in Fife.
The person I have to thank for this is my friend
Mr. Stodart, who, coming one day to see my pictures,
offered to sit for his portrait ; Avhich I have finished
Avith some degree of success, and he has promised to
use his influence in my favour among his friends,
who, I hope, will follow his example ; for I have ex
perienced before that such a thing as that needs but
* Now Lord Campbell, and nephew to the beautiful Mary Campbell,
the first Mrs. Wilkie.

^t. 19. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 87
a begmning. If this should take place, I Avill probably
stay in toAvn aU Avinter, Avhich I am persuaded avUI be
very much to my advantage. Mr. Stodart has taken
a fancy to tAvo pictures I am doing at present, Avhich,
he says, he avUI purchase upon certain terms ; so that
you may teU Helen there are some hopes of her get
ting a piano-forte stUl.
Agreeable to my brother John's desire I went to
the India House, and found Mr. WooUey, who gave
me a Aery kind reception ; and instead of my being
obhged to explain to him the circumstance of my
brother's acquaintance Avith his son, it appeared that
he knew more of my brother than I did, and told me
every thing about his late promotion.
My brother James expects to get here about the
end of this month, and he wants me to go with him
to Scotland, which I wiU be obliged to do if my
present expectations do not succeed. D. W.
His sister Helen heard Avith the joy of one Avho has
a natural taste for music, that the chance of obtaining
a piano-forte had become somethmg like certain, and
his father heard of his intention of remaining during
the Avinter in London, Avith the anxiety natural to
one who loved independence, and had a dread of
debt. " As you mention your wish," says this most
worthy and simple man, " to continue in London
during the most part of Avinter, and have some hopes
of success in your Une, I have had it in my mind for
some time of applying to Lord Crawford for the loan
of a few pounds — fifteen or tAventy, — which, if he
g 4

88 THE LIFE OF 1805.
lends, I would transmit to you, in case you found that
such assistance was necessary to contmue you in
London for a certain time ; and the money might be
repaid after your return to Scotland. Dr. HUl, at
the Synod, on Tuesday last was inquiring very
kindly for you, and is highly pleased Avith the picture
you drew of his son." The letter of Wilkie in answer
to this lifts up the veU from his situation a httle : he
has spent sixty-two pounds of the seventy which he
brought from home Avith him ; and though he believes
Lord Crawford a better man than most to be indebted
to, he thinks that he has spent enough of Scotland's
money in England already. The date is October 21.
Dear Father,
It was with some degree of impatience that I
waited the arrival of your last, Avhich is noAv come to
hand. I am still in the hopes of employment suffi
cient to enable me to live. Mr. Stodart has procured
me the promise of some of his friends to sit for their
portraits, with which, and what other things I can get
to do, I avUI try and gain the means of subsistence.
As to your intention of borrowing money for me
from Lord Crawford, I Avould not like that so
well if I can avoid it : although he might be a
better man to be indebted to than any other, yet I
would have recourse to that remedy only in the last
extreme, for I think I haA'e spent enough of my
oaati country's money here already : however, in case
it should be necessary I avUI let you know; in the
meantime I have stiU eight pounds remaining, which
will allow me time to think about it. You may tell

.2ET.19. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 89
Helen that I am afraid she avUI not get her piano
forte so soon as she expects, for 1 must be first able
to keep rnyself before I can send her such a present,
and I hope, in the meanthne, she wiU apply herself
to music and every thing else, when she goes to the
boarding-school. I have met Avith some of my old acquaintances who
studied with me at Graham's Academy, who I find
of some use. One, in particular, has introduced me
to some of his relatiAes, and other persons of respect-
abUity. My old friend MacDonald the engraver in
Edinburgh, Avith whom I used to correspond formerly,
is also come to town lately to push his fortune.
Amongst the many ways by which we try here to
saA'e expense is that of cleaning our own boots and
shoes; for you must know that the people of the
house wUl not clean them, and when they send them
out to the shoe-blacks in the street they become
expensive. To remedy this I have got both blacking
and brushes, and clean them every morning myself.
You may teU Nanny and Jean that I can now show
them how to make the shoes shine.
I have begun to attend the Class for Perspective,
and I wiU also attend the Lectures on Anatomy,
Painting, &c, as they come in course : I have not got
my ticket as a student yet. D. W.
The health of Wilkie, at no period very strong,
seems to have about this time alarmed his friends, but
the " pale, thin" student studied on. He maintained
brief disputes with Haydon and others upon the merits

90 THE LIFE OF 1805.
of the historic style at the Academy, and when wearied
Avith controversy, which neither convinced nor con
verted any one, would cry, "Lads, let's be doing!"
nay, now and then he wrote letters like the following
to his friends, in which he aUowed some of his humours
to escape : —
My dear Friend,
I was favoured with yours of the 1 8th, which
I am the more encouraged to answer, from the plea
sure I know you wiU have in hearing of such adven
tures as a person may meet Avith in such a place as
London, which, although you have heard it often
before, is really a wonderful city. Here, if you have
money, you may do anything ; and nobody wUl make
the least inquiry, or trouble their heads about what
you are doing. I have acquired a good stock of im
pudence, which I find is of great advantage ; for If we
can't speak for ourselves nobody else wUl. I have
now had an opportunity of seeing the Enghsh ladies,
who, I find, differ materiaUy from the Scotch : unless
we walk arm in arm on the street, and show them aU
complacency, and keep continuaUy talking, we are
considered as insignificant sort of feUows. However,
I have got quite up to all this, and can manage ex
tremely well. You may teU George Veitch that I
am grown so much the man of gaUantry, that the
ladies I meet on the way at night often faU in love
with me, and very often entreat me to walk home Avith
them, although I never saw them before. You may
also teU him, that I frequently get into the theatres of
Drury Lane and Covent Garden for the small sum of

Mt.20. SLR DAA'ID AVILKIE. 91
a sixpence, which, if he wUl please to recollect, is much
cheaper than he and I used to go to the theatre in
Edinburgh. I am at present in hopes of getting into some em
ployment in the portrait. Une ; at any rate I wiU try
and make aU the shifts I can to keep myself here, for
it is too soon to return to Scotland yet. D. W.
In December, Wilkie, hitherto a probationer, was
admitted a student of the Academy. He had, as he
informs us, enjoyed aU a student's privUeges before;
but, as the rules require a three months' study, as weU
as a successful drawing of an anatomical figure, with
the muscles marked and numbered, and of an an
tique statue also, in which true drawing and just pro
portions are found, he could not, as a matter of form,
take a place among the students. It was necessary
that he should make another set of drawings before he
could study from the male and female Uving models,
and to this continuous task he set himself with his
usual calm enthusiasm. MeanwhUe he avaUed himself
of the advantages, and they are many and valuable,
which the Academy affords to students. He attended
the weekly lectures on anatomy and perspective ;
took sittings, when he could obtain them, for portraits ;
and during hours of intermission, made studies and
sketches for a series of domestic pictures then dawning
on his fancy. In one of his letters home, dated De
cember 1st, he says, " I am going on pretty weU in
my professional employment, in which I get a good
deal of encouragement : my lodging is often visited

92 THE LIFE OF 1806.
by people of respectability, and my friends and ac
quaintances here are now become as numerous as they
were in Edinburgh." Though his prospects brightened
up a little, still his hope of success lay in pamting
portraits. He thus writes to his father on the 5th of
January, 1806: —
" I am now become quite inured to the difficulties
of living in London; for I have been several times
reduced within the bounds of the last half guinea, and
have been under the necessity of Uving upon credit.
However, I have stUl as yet cleared my way and kept
out of the pawnbroker's, although at one time I was on
the brink of writing to you for a supply, as I was ra
ther harassed about insuring from the mUitia. I have
now, however, reason to be thankful that I have partly
got over all these difficulties, and have now the pro
spect of getting more extensive employment in the
portrait way ; and if that should faU, I have now found
a very ready market for my other paintings, which
necessity made me find out. I request, when you
write me again, you wUl send me an extract from the
Session Book of my exact age, in case I shall need it
for the mUitia business.
" My prospects at present are very much improved,
through the means of my two friends the Stodarts,
who have introduced me to two famUies of quaUty.
The Countess of Mansfield happening to see the Pit
lessie Market at their house one day, desired that it
might be sent home with her to show some gentlemen :
the consequence was, that I was sent for the next day,
and was received very kindly by her ladyship, who

.Ex. 21. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 93
professed a great desire of getting me introduced to
notice. " D. W."
Among those " people of respectability " Avhom the
rising fame of the painter attracted, was the now
eminent physician Dr. Darling, then a young man,
and on his way to India. " I first saw WUkie," he
said, " in April, 1806. Captain Ramage, then sitting
to him for his portrait, was with me. On the walls
of his Uttle studio I saw various sketches, a few por
traits, and some finished pictures of a Scottish cha
racter : among the latter was Pitlessie Fair, which he
had sent for from Fife, to give it the benefit of his
increasing skill. I was struck with the truth and
force of character stamped on aU he had done; the
original and enlivened air of his compositions, and the
remarkable brightness of his colouring, — brighter then
than afterwards for a time, though it regained its
lustre. The YiUage PoUticians was on his easel; he
was painting it for Lord Mansfield. The fame of that
fine picture foUowed me to India. I must not omit
to say that the calm, and modest, and self-possessed
air of the artist was not less remarkable than his
talents." At this time he resolved, as he wrote to his
brother John in Bengal, to remain six months longer
in London, and then return to Scotland. The pretty
round sum he brought with him, he said, did not last
long, and he was subsisting as well as he could by
the painting of portraits. His father's health, too,
began to fail ; and, lest he should alarm his parents,
he brightened his own prospects in his letters home ;

94 THE LIFE OF

1806.

yet he was obliged to request ten pounds from the
Manse, to enable him to pursue his plan of study
with profit. In February we find him attending the
anatomical class of Charles BeU, from Edinburgh,
" who delivers a course of lectures," says WUkie,
" merely for the use of painters, which I am convinced
avUI be of great service to me." AU his hopes he
was ever ready to communicate to his father. He
writes thus in February : —
Dear Father,
I received your letter of January 25. I am
sorry to hear your indisposition has not left you,
though from€ts being abated you may have reason to
hope that it wUl go away altogether.
I think I mentioned to you in my last that I had
been taken notice of by the Dowager Countess of
Mansfield; since which I had the honour of a call
from her son, the present Earl of Mansfield. He
seemed to admire the Pitlessie Market very much,
and desired me to send it to his house to show to his
lady, which I did. I have since, by his means, got a
sight of one of the first coUections of pictures in toAvn,
and he has given me directions to paint a picture for
him. This acquaintance has been formed without
solicitation or recommendation on my part, although
I may reap as great advantage from it, being entirely
voluntary.
D.W.
The influence of the friendly Stodart now began to
be visible in the fortunes of Wilkie. The Earl of

.Et. 21. SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 95
Mansfield no sooner saAV Pitlessie Fair than he felt
its beauty as a composition, and had enough of old
Scotland in him to perceive that it Avas as true to the
people as the sun is to summer : he sought out the
painter in his obscure abode, Avhere he found him
with aU his pictures and studies around him. When
WUkie hung up a smaU picture or two in the Avindow
at Charing Cross, he put the very modest price of six
guineas each on them; but he had now discovered
that it was cheaper to study in the Manse of Cults
than in the middle of London ; and that hving models,
rich colours, and respectable lodgings — aU necessary
matters in a poUte art — devoured his substance. He
had aU this in his mind, when the Earl inquired what his
price would be for painting him a picture from his
study of The YUlage PoUticians. The artist answered
fifteen guineas, to which the Earl made no answer;
and WUMe, who seems to have felt that his strength
lay in that direction, proceeded to paint the picture,
as he said, at a venture. As it approached comple
tion, the rumour ran that it was a work of great
genius, and Ukely to create a change in art. It
chanced one day that Sir George Beaumont and Lord
Mulgrave were praising the Dutch school, when Jack
son, who was present, said if they would come with
him, he would find them a young Scotsman who was
second to no Dutchman that ever bore a palette on
his thumb. " We must go and see this Scottish won
der, Jackson," said Sir George; and they foUowed him
to Wilkie's abode, where they found The ViUage Poli
ticians aU but finished. Two such judges could not
but see its worth at once ; and, as they had generosity

96 THE LIFE OF

1806.

as weU as good judgment, they spread the fame of
the picture round the bright circles to which they
belonged. They were not only pleased with the
works of the artist, but charmed with the simpli
city of the man ; and being both good judges, and
the former a landscape painter of eminence, saw
that he was above the common mark — a decided
original, in short; and one, too, who found his sub
jects in the domestic circles of his native land. They
did not leave his studio without commissioning
a picture each : the price of the one for Sir George
Beaumont was fixed at fifty guineas. These com
missions, which opened the doors of the temple of
Fame to WUkie, seem to have uplifted him httle. He
foresaw that the cost of execution would, at the rate
which he wrought, and his consequent outlay, far
exceed the money they would bring : he felt, too, that
his health was faUing, and the last guinea ready to
leave his pocket ; nor did he faU to feel that in por
trait, where his hope of subsistence lay, other artists,
with their smooth and elegant flattery of pencU,
carried away the chief sitters and the high prices.
Yet in his letters of that time, when fame and fortune
were in the balance, Uttle of hope or of fear is ex
pressed. He thus addresses his relative Anderson : —
TO JAMES ANDERSON.
I was sorry to hear from my father that your
hopes of getting out now were very faint, and that
you were afraid of not getting an appointment tUl
you were past the age ; but I was very much asto-

Mt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 97
nished to hear that you had hoav turned your views
to a post in the mUitia, AAdiich is a situation I Avould
have considered as unworthy your acceptance. You
haA'e forsaken the most lucrative profession in the
world for an employment equaUy dependent and un
certain, which, Uke the gaudy butterfly of a summer
day, only exists whUe the sun shines. I am afraid my
brother has put this into your head ; but you ought
rather to avoid the rock on which he himself has split,
than foUow him as the beacon of your course. I hope
my friendship for you wiU excuse the Uberty I take ;
and if I may be aUowed to give my advice, I would
advise you, in case you do not go to India, to come to
London : for here, If you have interest to get into some
counting-house, you may, Avith a moderate degree of
perseverance and attention, get forward pretty well ;
and I have no doubt but you would Uke London as
weU as you did Edinburgh. For my part, I like it
a great deal better; for the people are much more
affable and free, and my circle of acquaintance is
much more extensive here than ever it Avas in Edin
burgh. D. W.
He is sUent, too, about his health in the folloAving
letter to a friend of the same date : —
" I have remained much longer in London than
I expected. I happened by accident to get a few
portraits to do, Avhich has enabled me to obtain a
scanty subsistence ; and in the meantime I have been
attending as much as I can at the Academy, where I
am now admitted as a student. I have got acquainted
VOL. i. h

98 THE LIFE OF 1806.
Avith some of the students, who, for perseverance and
assiduity, show me an example worthy of imitation.
I have accordingly got introduced to some people of
high rank, who, I hope, wUl be of service to me here
after. The longer I have been in London I Uke it
so much the better; and I have already formed a
number of agreeable acquaintances, with whom I find
myself very happy."
In a similar tone he writes to his brother Thomas
in Leith. He now perceives that he had received a
very imperfect education in art in the Edinburgh
Academy — "spent much of his time in a manner
doing nothing ;" and that London was the fountain
head of art as weU as of commerce, to which, notwith
standing its vast expanse, aU who hoped for wealth
or distinction should repair.
Dear Brother,
I have been now upwards of nine months in
London, during which time I have been constantly
employed in studying the theory and practice of my
profession. From the example of my feUow-students,
I have now become more than ever economical of my
time ; and I even regret that I have spent so much of
my time in Scotland in a manner doing nothing. I
now find that if a person wUl devote his mind entirely
to the duties of his professional employment, it be
comes so habitual to him that he may conceive a
pleasure in it superior to any other pastime or amuse
ment. I am at present doing the best I can to support
myself by painting portraits; but Uving here is at

-ZEt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 99
least double what it is in Edinburgh. Since I came
to London, which is not near a twelvemonth, I have
spent near 100/. ; yet, after aU, there is no town I
ever was in I Uked better, for here eArerybody hves
weU. And I often think that you yourself at some
future period should try your fortune in London ; for
here you could learn a great number of things you
can neA'er learn anywhere else ; and you might here
attain a knowledge of the trade and commerce that is
carried on in the first market in the world, which
would be like studying commerce at the fountain
head. D. W.
With The YUlage PoUticians on his easel, and pic
tures bespoke by noblemen and gentlemen of the first
taste and consideration, the young artist, who looked
at the future as weU as at the present, felt, though
his prospects might be caUed splendid, that they pro
mised fame, but not fortune. Pictures at fifty guineas
each, to a hand which, yet untutored in art, moved so
slow that a twelvemonth of study and labour was re
quired to complete one, might bring salt to his meat,
but not meat to his salt. Added to this, he was
aU the whUe contending with that Ul-matched pair,
poverty and sickness. Of his state of health he says
nothing to his friends, conceals his iU-health from his
parents, and tries to dazzle them Avith golden pros
pects. " Dear Father, I have been very undecided," he Avrites
home on the 15th of AprU, 1806, " for this long time
h 2

100 THE LLFE OF 1806.
whether I should return to Scotland or not ; but I have
now come to a resolution of remaining in London. I
haAe pamted a good many portraits since I came here ;
but in that I haA'e been A'ery unsuccessful, for I haA'e
not been able to keep myself, and am at present
twenty pounds in debt.
" I would from this circumstance not have hesitated
a moment in returnmg to Scotland ; but I haA'e at
present such golden prospects spread before me, that
I cannot resist the temptation of remaining stUl in
London. I haATe been of late pamting a picture for
the Earl of Mansfield, to be exhibited in the Royal
Academy, which has attracted considerable attention
among my friends and acquaintances, and even drawn
noblemen to my lodgings ; one of whom is a gentleman
that acted a considerable part in the late administra
tion, Adz. Lord Mulgrave, who seemed so much pleased
Avith it that not only he, but a friend of his, Sir
George Beaumont, haA'e engaged me to paint two such
pictures for them. " D. W."
This letter, and perhaps some intimation of his state
of health, induced his father to Avrite, desiring, nay
aU but commanding, his return to Scotland as soon
as he had finished the pictures for Sir George Beau
mont and Lord Mulgrave. " In the Manse you avUI
find," said his affectionate parent, " a home AvhUst I
am afoot ; and for three or four months I am sure
you wUl find as much encouragement as may en
able you to return once more to London. Should
you continue Avhere you are, we are alarmed about

Mt.21. SLR DAVID WILKIE. 101
your support ; you know that in the course of these
last eleven months, besides the tAventy pounds you
mention, you haA'e receiA'ed fifty-five pounds from
Scotland. Noav as this resource must fail for the
time to come, we suspect, if you come not home, that
aU you can gain by draAving aaoII be insufficient for
your maintenance. At the same time I aUoAv that
your outlay may be lessened in future, and that the
noblemen whom you name and others may, by encou
raging, serve you effectuaUy. But here, once for aU,
I warn you not to put your faith too much in Hope,
which, rainbow-like, eludes our grasp, and gUtters but
to deceive our eyes. If, upon a fair comparison betAvixt
your monthly labours and expense, you find the ba
lance against you, hesitate no longer, but come home ;
and this too I recommend for the sake of your health,
lest by redoubling your dUigence, as you propose, you
should hurt your constitution. Besides, it was cer
tainly your design when you left us, after improving
yourself in the Royal Academy, to return to Scotland
and enjoy the encouragement which was held out to
you. I haAe been and am stUl distressed by a sound
ing in my head and a great defect in hearing ; your
mother, too, is still ailing very much."
WUkie was much affected by this letter.
" I haA'-e considered, dear Father," he says in an
swer, " aU your arguments for returning to Scotland;
the most powerful of which is the Aveak state of health
which you say my mother and you at present enjoy.
As to my being able to keep myself here, I am not so
h 3

102 THE LIFE OF 1806.
much afraid of that now, as I have the offer of as much
work as wUl keep me for a twelvemonth. Since I
came to London I have spent upwards of one hundred
pounds, the half of which came from Scotland ; but
you must know while I was Uving on it I was doing
nothing else but studying at the Academy, and I did
not begin to paint for myself tUl that was done ; since
which I have had but very little encouragement in the
portrait way, which has almost disgusted me at it.
You know I was obliged to borrow twenty pounds ; but
that, I expect, wiU be nearly paid by the price of the
Pitlessie Fair : at aU events I am determined to bor
row no more. When I was in Scotland I considered
that every thing depended on my success in London ;
for this is the place of encouragement for people of
our profession, and if we faU here we never can be
great any where ; and as I have met with some of the
first men in the kingdom who are AvUUng to encourage
and assist me, I think it is my interest to try and
reahse their expectations in me.
" However strong these arguments may be, they are
not sufficient to apologise for not coming to Scotland.
You wiU no doubt feel it rather hard being deserted
by us aU at the time you most need us ; more particu
larly by me, who have been aU along in your house
in the days of your prosperity, and now, when adver
sity comes, I am found at a distance.
" I cannot fix at present on any particular time
when I shaU come to Scotland, as I have so many
commissions on hand, and as I wUl not get my picture
out of the Exhibition till June ; but I avUI try and
come for a month or two before the Avinter. But, even

JEt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 103
then, I am afraid it wUl only be a visit ; for I must do
every thing I can to keep hold of the footing I have
gamed here.
" I am inAlted by Lord M nigra a-c to spend part of
the summer with him at his country-seat in York
shire, but of that I must consider hereafter. " D. W."
WUkie, when he Avrote this letter, had finished his
picture of The YiUage PoUticians, placed it in the
Royal Academy exhibition, and resolved to abide in
London and Avitness its effect on the pubhc, to whom
he submitted it in mingled hope and fear. It had,
whUe on his easel, received the most rapturous
praises of some of his feUow-students ; among whom
Haydon vowed, some say swore, that in dramatic force
it rivaUed aU but Raphael. Less enthusiastic minds
saw merit of no common order in it ; and all admired
the exceUence of the grouping, the dramatic skill of
the story, and the wondrous force and variety of cha
racter in the chief heads. There was a daily crush
to see it : crowd succeeded crowd of gazers and won-
derers from morning tiU night. The effect of aU this
on the placid mind of the artist himself was not un
noted. He was silent amid aU the praises showered
upon him by the press and by the people; and his
only return for flattery, of which few were sparing,
was a faint smile, and a customary shake of the head.
His native Fife echoed his praises through aU her
maritime and inland towns; but no praise was so
welcome as that of his venerable father. " The ac
counts in the public prints," observes the minister of
h 4

104 THE LLFE OF 1806.
Cults, " of the approbation bestowed on your picture
in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy has given us
great pleasure. Of these I have received about eight
in the London and Edinburgh papers. John WUkie
in London sent me one; Mr. Methven of Cupar
brought me two ; Mr. Low of Anfield one ; Mr.
Kinnear one ; Colonel Wemyss one ; and Mr. Vial
tAvo. There is one in the Edinburgh Advertiser
which I have not seen. But the most expressive is
in a letter from Mr. John CampbeU*, of the Inner
Temple, to his father in Cupar, which concludes with
observing that Mr. WUkie's picture in the Exhibition
is certainly worth several hundred guineas, some say
a thousand. You cannot imagine how great a fervour
of admiration these accounts have produced in your
favour in this quarter of the country ; in particular,
the gentlemen for whom you painted pictures last
year affirm that each of them is worth an hundred
guineas. In a card which I have had from Mr. Kin
near, he is particularly anxious that you should write
to him, and give him an account of your doings.
Mr. Vial also desires to be remembered to you, and
Avishes to know what those noble admirers offer you
for your picture. As to your return to Scotland, if
attention to your mother and me be your principal
motive, that need no longer influence you : we must
not interpose between our son and his success, but
endure the accidents of life in the best manner we
can ; yet Ave confess it Avould be more than agreeable
to see you again in health and spirits. The subject
* Now Lord Campbell.

JEt.21. sir davld avilkie. 105
of your picture must be regarded as a fortunate one :
poUtical disputes and cabals are stiU popular in our
vUlages amonsr the lower classes."
Next to the admiration laA'ished upon this picture,
the desire was to know what roAvard the pencil re
ceiA'ed for what was considered next to a marvel.
Much as the praise was which The VUlage Politicians
brought to the artist, the settlement of the price
brought an equal amount of pain. I have related how
the Earl of Mansfield, when he visited the humble
studio of the painter, inquired what his price would
be for expanding and paintmg in oU the study of this
picture. — that Wilkie rephed, "Fifteen guineas;" to
which the Earl made no answer ; and that the work (a
favourite one with the artist) was executed at a ven
ture. This, it is said, reached Lord Mansfield, who
paid WUkie a visit. It would appear, from the cor
respondence which soon afterwards ensued, that the
price had been a matter of conversation, if not of
debate, between them. The picture was in the Exhi
bition, and the island ringing from side to side in its
praises, before this was settled, as the foUoAving letter
from the Earl sufficiently proves : —

TO DAVID WTLKLE, ESQ.
gjj. Portland Place, May 9. 1806.
I this morning received your letter informing me
that you had been offered thirty guineas for your pic
ture of The VUlage Pohticians. I beg leave to remind
you that that picture was painted for me, expressly

106 THE LIFE OF

1806.

at my desire; that AvhUe it was yet unfinished you
informed me that the price was fifteen guineas, frame
excluded; and that in answer I mentioned that I did
not object to the price, but advised you to consult
Mr. Smith, or other artists of eminence, as to the
charges which you ought to make; conceiving, as I
then told you, that the only chance a young artist has
is to affix a very moderate price to his pictures tUl he
is weU known; and this, from the absurd fashion
which prevaUs of paying large sums for very indiffer
ent portraits, instead of purchasing superior pictures
of another description at a fair rate. I therefore con
ceive that the picture is mine, and at the price of fif
teen guineas; and upon this I am the more tempted
to insist, from the conviction that it avUI be advan
tageous to you to have it in your power to say, that
notAvithstanding the success of your picture, and the
offers which were made to you, you adhered to your
original engagement. I hope you wiU see this subject
in a proper point of Adew, and in so doing you wUl
(beUeve me) consult your present as weU as future
advantage.
I am, Sir,
Your obedient humble Servant, Mansfleld.
To this Wilkie, who neither painted nor wrote in a
hurry, returned the foUoAving answer : —

JEt.21. SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 107
TO THE EARL OF MANSFIELD.
My Lord u- Norton Street, May 13. 1806.
I had the honour of your Lordship's letter of
the 9th instant, and must apologise for my delay in
answering it, as the subject required some consi
deration. You remind me that I stated the price of the
picture to be fifteen guineas ; but I beg leave humbly
to observe, that it was not acceded to by your Lord
ship; and, as you state in your letter, you desired
me to consult some artists as to the charge I ought
to make. This I have done : I have consulted artists
of the first eminence, with a view to be directed by
their judgment, as your Lordship did not, in any terms
whatever, agree to the price that I myself had put
upon the picture.
The artists Avith whom I have consulted considered
thirty guineas as but a very moderate price for the
picture. If your Lordship is not satisfied Avith their
judgment, I am Avilling to refer it to the arbitration
of any three Royal Academicians your Lordship shall
please to name.
I have the honour to be, very respectfully,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's most obedient humble Servant,
D. W.
This brought the Earl to Norton Street ; the inter
view was characteristic: they were both firm, and
calm, and courteous men. The Earl, it is said, re
minded the artist, that when he desired him to paint

108 THE LIFE OF 18061.
the picture, his merits were unknoAvn, or, at most,
but in the dawn, and that he hazarded his reputation
in the realms of taste, by venturing to give him a
commission, which, upon his honour, he considered
a settled matter, at the price of fifteen guineas.
" When I named that price," said Wilkie, " your
Lordship only replied, ' Consult your friends.' I have
consulted them, and they all say, I ought not to take
less than thirty guineas; but since your Lordship
appeals to your honour, my memory must be in the
wrong: the price therefore is fifteen guineas." The
Earl smiled, and gave him a check for thirty guineas.
And so the controversy closed, but not before it had
become the pubhc talk of London. On the 5th of
June he writes to his father : —
Dear Father,
Your letter of the 21st gave me very great
pleasure indeed, particularly as you seemed to be
reeoncUed to my remaining in London. I anticipated
the pleasure you would feel on hearing of my success,
and the joy it would give to many of your neigh
bours, particularly to those who were the means of
bringing me forward in my profession ; but, however
great their admiration may be, it cannot be greater
than the bustle that is made about me here. The
Exhibition is never mentioned without some obser
vation on the picture painted by the young Scotch
man; and I have had caUs from some of the first
characters of the present day. My acquaintance is
solicited by the most eminent painters; and I am
taken out and paid respect to by people of the first

Mt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 109
rank and quality. I Avas lately introduced to the
Marquis of Stafford, by his oaati request; and I had
the honour of a call from that mirror of patriotism,
Mr. Whitbread, a man Avho, although, in his public
character, he has professed an antipathy to all my
countrymen, has nevertheless in private professed a
great friendship for me.
The picture now in the Exhibition is at last sold, after
a areat disagreement Avith the Earl of Mansfield about
the price. It was painted for him, and before it was
finished he asked me what was the price. I told
him I woidd be contented with fifteen guineas. He
hesitated, and desired me to consult my friends what
value I should put upon it. From the opinion of my
friends and the pubhc, and the offers that were made
me, I began to consider it worth ten times the sum
his Lordship had refused, and on the question being
asked again, I demanded thirty guineas, on which
his Lordship wrote me a letter, claiming the picture
as his own at the original price I had proposed.
A correspondence ensued, in which I remonstrated,
until the subject became the general talk of the town,
and in the meantime I had made me the offer tAvice of
one hundred pounds for the picture. His Lordship
sent for me, and after a very sharp debate on the
subject, in which I contended that he had no right
to the picture at that price, he said upon his honour
he considered it as a bargain, and one which I agreed to
stand to on these conditions. His Lordship gave me
a draft for thirty guineas, which was double the sum
first named ; and, although I had two offers of one
hundred pounds for the picture, I was happy in

110 THE LLFE OF 1806.
having it settled in such a manner Avith his Lordship.
Mr. Whitbread, happening to meet with his Lordship
in company afterwards, congratulated him on the
bargain he had got of my picture, and pleaded my
cause with as much spirit and energy as he has shewn
in the cause of the pubhc against Lord MelvUle.
I called on Mr. Whitbread the other day, and took
the Fair along with me to show to Mrs. Whitbread.
She asked me to let it remain with her, and entreated
me not to send it back to Scotland. Mr. Whitbread
has engaged me to paint a picture for him. TeU the
people of Pitlessie that they have more honour con
ferred on them now than they ever had before ; teU
them that they are seen and admired by the first
people in the kingdom ; and teU my grandfather that
he is not the least admired among them.
I will probably write to Mr. Kinnear and Mr. Gra
ham, as you suggest. I have sent a picture to Mr.
Aitkin of Cupar, for which there avUI be an account
of about ten pounds, which I have desired to be paid
to you, and which I would wish to be apphed in
repaying Lord Crawford. I expect to be able to
repay my brother very soon.
I am now redoubling my application, Avith the sure
hopes of success. My ambition is got beyond aU
bounds, and I have the vanity to hope that Scotland
wUl one day be proud to boast of
Your affectionate Son,
David Wilkie.
" My ambition is got beyond all bounds, and 1
have the vanity to hope that Scotland avUI one day

2Et.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. Ill
be proud to boast of David WUkie ! " These remark
able words addressed to his father, Avere followed by
others not less prophetic in a letter to his brother
Thomas : the first and last boast which can be
recorded of this distinguished and modest genius
were breathed in secret to those he dearly loved; and
after a long period of doubt and depression.

TO THOMAS WLLKLE.
Dear Brother,
When I first came to London, I had scarcely
a friend: the five recommendations I had were of
Uttle or no use, and since then I have had various
successions of good and bad fortune, and the only
support I had was from painting portraits, a branch
of the art in which I lucidly faUed ; but the want of
success in this branch made me apply to another, in
which I have already estabUshed a reputation that
wUl Uve for ages.
I have now in one twelvemonth, Avithout interest
or soUcitation, gained more friends and more em
ployment than aU the recommendations in the world
could have got me. The picture I have now in the
Exhibition was painted from the poem of " Will and
Jean," when they meet in the ale-house. It was done
for the Earl of Mansfield, but I am sorry to say we
had a great deal of cavilling about the price ; and his
Lordship, for the sake of getting it a few guineas
cheaper, has done himself more injury than he has
done me. D.W.

112 THE LIFE OF

1806.

The other branch of art in which he had " already
established a reputation that Avould last for ages," was
that of domestic painting, and the picture which
achieved this was The VUlage Politicians.
How this work grew out of the "ale caup com
mentators," in the baUad of WUl and Jean, has been
already related. In the early studies of the picture
the range of characters was limited; and to imper
sonate WiUie Gairlace and his tippling companions
seemed his sole aim. As the painter's mind expanded,
the subject expanded also ; and before he arrived in
London it had assumed, in his fancy at least, a cha
racter of national interest, and took its rank with
historical compositions. To those who are old enough
to remember those times when the yeast of the French
Revolution was working in almost every mind ; dis
turbing the calmest hearts, and fiUing every city and
town and vUlage with clubs which speculated on free
constitutions, and societies which settled over the
punchbowl the rights of manldnd, no explanation of
the picture need be offered : nor avUI those require it
who have seen during an evening the change-house
of a Scottish clachan, filled from the forge and the
cartwright's shop, from the farm onstead, the shoe
maker's and the weaver's cottages, with rustics eager
to dispute and tipple, whUe the rejoicing landlord
supphes them with news as weU as Uquor.
From scenes such as these, rather than from the
tame and hfeless strains of Macneil, the painter caught
the spirit which lives and breathes through the Avhole
composition. The picture represents a party of rustic
politicians, in a public house, met to discuss the affairs

Mt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 113
of the state, to propose a redress of grievances, and,
above all, to Usten to the doctrines of a favourite
newspaper, which they had commissioned at second
hand twice a week. In the centre of this sanded par
lour, which performs the part of kitchen also, stands
a table replenished with materials for Ufe and contro
versy ; there is a half niutchkin stoup and glass, a half
smoked tobacco pipe, a half eaten cheese, and a half-
read newspaper. At the head of the table sits the
vUlage Hampden, one who, from his age and tranquU
sagacity, is cordiaUy the judge in all district disputes.
A double quart pot, to quicken wit and sharpen judg
ment, is on the floor within reach of his left hand;
whUe his right hand is feeling his chin, as if in doubt,
and his eyes, lifted from the paper which he had just
been reading, are fixed considerately on the plough
man, who, from the other end of the table, has started
a scruple regarding the rights of man maintained by
" The Gazetteer," a busy paper of the times. This is
a young man ; his ploughshare Ues at his feet, brought
to sharpen at the vUlage forge; part of a peacock's
feather is twined in the band of his hat ; the back of
his left hand rests on the table ; his right finger, as
if settling a problem, is descending into his open palm ;
his body is thrown forward; his brows are gathering
and contracting; his Ups are apart and earnest in
speech ; and his eyes are hghted up by the eager spirit
of contradiction. It is evident that his remarks have
awakened the controversial mood of the weaver and
shoemaker, who, from the opposite side of the table,
look into the foreground of the picture.
The first of these worthies, of a trade prone to dis-
VOL. I. I

114 THE LIFE OF 1806.
putation, has, stung by the remarks of the other,
sprung to his feet, that his words might fall with the
more effect — has pushed his bonnet back from his
brow, which is wrinkled and puckered Avith emotion,
and thrust his open hand, with the fingers spread out
like a loose-tied bunch of radishes, right in the plough
man's face ; saying, Avith all the expression which art
can give, " What I say is as plain as the palm of my
hand ! " while Avith his mouth, by the force of passion
screwed into an opening Uke an auger-bore — his nos
trils distended — his eyes flashing with amazement and
wrath — he seems about to precipitate himself bodUy
upon the scene. His quieter comrade, the" shoemaker,
Avith the stump of a pen in his hat, to show that his
learning is beyond the score and the taUy, sustains
him in the strife, and holds his knife in suspense over
the cheese before him, hstening eagerly to an argu
ment which it is visible he condemns. The accessa
ries are all in keeping Avith this wondrous group,
and help on the story : an old man, heedless of the
stormy debate, reads resolutely in an old newspaper ;
a Highland drover, with his staff in his hand and his
dog at his side, warms himself at the fire, ignorant
perhaps of the language which he Ustens to ; whUe
another rustic scratches his head, in vexation to hear
the glorious " Gazetteer" — the friend of the people —
made a thing of shreds and patches. We must add
to all the discreet landlady, who appears at the half-
opened door with a fresh bottle in her hand, to hinder
the debate from becoming dry.

Mt.21. SIR DAVLD WILKIE. 115

CHAPTER V.
KINDNESS OF MR. ANGERSTEIN.  LETTER FROM MR. GRAHAM. 
PAINTS "THE BLIND FIDDLER" FOR SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, AND
"ALFRED IN THE NEATHERD'S COTTAGE" FOR MR. DAVISON. 
MR. ANDREW AVTLSON's RECOLLECTIONS OF AVTLKIE AT THIS TIME.
 LETTERS FROM SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT. — AVTLKIE REVISITS
CULTS.
The impression which The VUlage Politicians made
on aU ranks was deep and abiding. At the dinner
vrith which the Royal Academicians open their Ex
hibition — a dinner given to the prime of the land
for rank and talent — the generous Mr. Angerstein
was so moved by the exceUence of Wilkie's picture,
that, declaring it had aU the spirit of Teniers
and the humour of Hogarth, he pointed it out to
the company as the star of the coUection. Nor did
the very precise way in which the Earl of Mansfield
had behaved to the young painter lessen its merits.
All who saw it felt that a picture of the first order
had been obtained for a sum not equal to the interest
of the money it was worth ; nor is it improbable that
a httle envy mingled with their strictures. The Royal
Academy, as a body, was far from insensible to the
merits of the performance, though some did not find
in it the principles of that high art, which the pro
fessors found easier to preach than practise. North-
cote openly designated the style of Wilkie the Pauper
i 2

116 THE LIFE OF 1806.
Style ; and Hazlitt, a little of a pamter and esteemed
as a critic, re-echoed the snappish saying. Nor was
Fuseh sUent: he pointed to the picture, and said to
Wilkie, in his oaati enigmatic way, " Young man, that
is a dangerous Avork." " Ay, ay," said WUkie, " reaUy
now." " That picture wiU either prove the most
happy or the most unfortunate work of your hfe."
What he valued more than aU the encomiums of
the Royal Academy, was the approbation of his vener
able father regarding his conduct to the Earl of
Mansfield, to whom, as we have seen, he had written
a full account. " I approve," said he, " of your sen
timents, rather to suffer damage than incur the dis
pleasure of Lord Mansfield; and as that nobleman
was among the first who took notice of you, secure
the continuance of his favour by aU the honourable
means in your power. Mr. Whitbread's conduct
is very remarkable: he must be of a generous
nature, and may be of essential service. But whUst
busied in your profession, remember to be careful of
your health. We have received much attention from
Colonel Wemyss : he Avrote me a card of congratu
lation, and requested your direction, that he might
desire his lady to caU on you on her way to Scot
land." The Wilkie who sought for fame and bread
among the towns and straths of Fife, and who Avas
regarded Avith cloudy brows by the pious of Cults for
presuming to trace their faces as they slumbered in
their pews at church, and the WUkie whom high
earls were proud to employ, and whom the first-born
of the realm courted to come to their country-seats,
seemed different persons. He was first spoken of in

.Sh-. 21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 117
the North as an ingenious young man ; for the Scotch
are slow in saying aU they thiuk : then the mercury
of their praise rose a Icav degrees, and he Avas a Aery
clever painter of humble subjects ; and, finaUy, he
became, Avithout excelling far his first productions,
our distinguished countryman, and our OAvn immortal
WUkie. The master of the Edinburgh Academy added a few
words of advice to the general song of praise. " I
rejoice," says John Graham, " at your weU-merited
success, and also at your determination to redouble
your exertions: by this, increase of reputation I
trust wiU foUow. Raphael exceUed aU other artists,
through intense study and appUcation, as weU as by
his genius. I would have you to beware of becoming
a mannerist : here you may say, Why this caution ?
I wUl teU you why: — As your subjects are aU na
tional, it cannot be expected, in the situation where
you are at present, that you wUl have the oppor
tunity of painting them in from the natural figures
from which you make your sketch : and it is when you
work from these sketches that you are in danger of
becoming a mannerist, as you are apt to rely on the
strength of your memory, to supply any part you are
in want of. Study from yourself — hands, feet, &c.
Although I do not altogether disapprove of this
last mode of study, yet too frequent an application
of it is, in my opinion, very dangerous, and ought
to be avoided. In London you cannot be at a loss
to obtain figures of any country or character you
may require; I therefore would advise you never
to paint on your principal work without you have
i 3

118 THE LIFE OF

1806.

nature before you. It is not literaUy meant by this,
that you shaU exactly copy the model ; but it wUl be
a great help to diversify your works, and prevent that
sameness which you avUI observe in the productions
of several great masters."
We have said that Sir George Beaumont foUowed
Lord Mansfield in " commissioning " a picture from
WUkie. The artist, the motto of whose famUy arms
should have been " let us be doing," soon sketched
and commenced what proved to be one of the happiest
of his pictures, that of The Blind Fiddler. The kind
and warm interest which Sir George took in his suc
cess was not more flattering than his hints — those of
taste and experience — were beneficial. "I cannot
miss this opportunity," says Sir George, in a letter
before me, dated June 15th, 1806, "of assuring
you that, though I shaU have great pleasure in pos
sessing the picture you are painting for me, I have
ten times more, in the prospect of seeing you improve
your talents to the utmost. Pursue your studies
without intermission; be not pursuaded to deviate
from the line nature and incUnation have marked out
for you ; associate with older men than yourself; do
not suffer poor-minded and interested persons to
render you discontented; remember yours is a liberal
profession ; never suffer it to degenerate into a trade :
the more you elevate your mind, the more you will be
Ukely to succeed."
Nor was it by good counsel alone that this generous
gentleman sought to assist the views of the young
artist. " When I was in town," he writes on the
10th of August, " I hinted to you that I was perfectly

2Et.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 119
ready to advance any of the money, even to the full
price of the tAvo pictures (The Blind Fiddler and The
Gamekeeper), if it would be any accommodation to
you: you declined it, I suspect through deUcacy; I
therefore repeat my offer, and sincerely assure you,
that, as my Avish is to serve you, I shaU consider your
receiA'ing the money as no obhgation Avhatever. I
only fear you may be put to inconvenience, or lay
yourself under an obhgation to some one who may
give you trouble hereafter, or take some advantage
of your situation. You wUl pardon me if I am mis
taken, as I know no more of your concerns than has
accidentally dropt from Mr. Jackson.
'• I am glad to hear that you are in more private
lodgings.* It is better on aU accounts : you wUl be able
to pursue your studies with less interruption, and be
free from the importunities which I know must beset
you. I hope you make hberal use of the inestimable
privUege of denying yourself. Nothing I think can
hurt you but being too soon satisfied, and fancying
yourself at the end of your labours, which wUl never
be : but you bore the gust of applause so steadUy and
sensibly that I am satisfied you never will forget what
is due to yourself, and your art."
WUkie was on a visit to Mr. Whitbread, at SouthUl,
when this letter found him, — a place memorable for
the genius which annuaUy assembled under its roof,
as weU as for its old EngUsh hospitalities.
* Wilkie had removed about this time from 11. Norton Street, Port
land Road, Marylebone, to No. 10. Sol's Row, Hampstead Road.

i 4

120 THE LIFE OF 1806.

TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir, Southill, Aug. 20. 1806.
I have now got your picture entirely finished,
and have shown it to several people, who have flattered
me with the idea that I have very much improved.
Lord Mulgrave, in a letter which I lately received
from him, requested me to take it to Yorkshire with
me; but the distance, and the fear of its being
damaged, have inclined me to let it remain in
London. As to the kind offer which you formerly made, and
now repeat, of accommodating me Avith money, I
return you my most sincere thanks. The reasons
which I then gave would be sufficient to excuse me
for not accepting of the offer ; but as the picture is
now finished, one of these reasons is removed, although
I am still not at aU in want of money.
I left London on Saturday last, in company with
Mr. and Mrs. Opie, and am at present with them at
Mr. Whitbread's. Mr. Reynolds is also here, and we
have altogether a very pleasant party. I intend going
from this to Mulgrave in a few days, as Lord Mul
grave has desired me to come as soon as I can, inde
pendent of Mr. Jackson, whose business wiU not aUow
him to leave London before the end of this month.
My stay at Mulgrave will be but short, as my en
gagements require me to return to London as soon as
possible. I have often had in my mind the advice
you have often given me of improving myself as I go
on. I am sensible stiU of having a great deal to learn,

iET.21. SLR DAVID WILKIK. 121
and haA'e been again attending the Koyal Academy,
in the hope that my improA'cment is not yet at an end.
I request to be remembered to Lady Beaumont,
and in the hopes of seeing you soon, I am, &c. D. W.
He AATote at the same time to the noble owner of
MulgraAe Castle.

TO THE EARL OF MULGRAVE.
My Lord, Southill, Bedford.
I had the honour to receive your Lordship's
letter a few days before I left London, inclosing five
guineas ; for which, and for many other favours be
sides, I confess myself very much indebted to your
Lordship. I am at present with Mr. Whitbread, who was so
kind as to invite me to spend a few days at his house,
which I haA'e taken as a stage on my way to Mulgrave.
I intend to set off from this on Saturday, but I cannot
teU at Avhat time I may be at the journey's end.
Mr. Jackson, I beUeve, avUI leave London about the
first of next month. He had, when I saw him last,
almost finished Lady Mary Fitzgerald's portrait, which
I think he has done great justice to.
I have finished Sir George Beaumont's picture en
tirely, but I have not brought it along with me, as
your Lordship requested, for, although the colours
were perfectly dry, they were not so hard but that

122 THE LIFE OF 1806.
-¦*
they or even the panel might have sustained consi
derable injury from being carried to such a distance.
I wrote to Sir George yesterday, in consequence of
a letter I lately received from him; but I believe I
wiU soon have the pleasure of meeting with him my
self. I have a few colours along with me for the
purpose of making sketches.
I anticipate the pleasure I shall feel in studying
the scenery about Mulgrave ; but I am sorry my time
will not permit me to enjoy that pleasure long, as my
engagements in London require me to be back as
soon as possible. I remain, My Lord,
Your much obliged and very humble Servant, D. W.
From SouthiU Wilkie went to Mulgrave, where he
remained several weeks under the roof of the noble
famUy who, having discovered on a tailor's shop-board
the modest merit of Jackson, now entertained merit
of a more original kind and of equal modesty. That
Wilkie felt these high attentions, the letters from his
father, to Avhom he regularly wrote, sufficiently inti
mate; but in his well-ordered and modest mind,
neither the fame which he obtained, nor the consider
ation which accomplished men pay to genius, made
any impression, save that of pohshing his simpUcity
and his natural good manners. He returned to Lon
don, where fresh commissions aAvaited him. There is a
passage, and a characteristic one, in the early history
of England which relates that the great Alfred, Avhen
his kingdom was overwhelmed by the Danes, concealed

Mt.21. SIR DAVID AVTLKIE. 123
himself hke a menial in a faithful neatherd's cottage,
where, one day, he neglected to turn the cake at the
hearth-fire, as he had been desired, but sat shaping a
new yew bow, and aUowed it to burn, when the neat
herd's wife, a sharp woman, exclaimed, " Sirrah ! if
you cannot turn a cake you can eat one fast enough."
To embody this incident in characters as Adgorous
and in colours as clear as he had done the VUlage
PoUticians was the wish of Alexander Davison.
WUkie felt the difficulty of the task; nor was it un-
perceived by his friend Sir George Beaumont, Avho
thus Avrote to him, soon after he had sketched in the
picture : —
" I have frequently reflected upon your Alfred, and
as it is a work rather out of the hne in which you are
known, and attended with very great difficulties, the
good-natured critics flatter themselves it wiU be a de-
Ucious morsel for them when it makes its appearance ;
every part of it, therefore, should be weU considered.
With the old woman, and especiaUy the man, I am
perfectly satisfied; but Alfred, the handsome and
agreeable, is rather insipid — I mean only as to his
countenance. What I wish to submit to your con
sideration is this, — whether it would be amiss to infuse
into his countenance surprise, Avith a slight mixture
of indignation, at the sudden and indecorous attack
of the old lady. This Avould relieve you from the
almost impossible task of painting a face which should
express meekness and power at the same time ; and,
also, by elevating the head, would give it the zest
and dignity it at present wants : it Avould, moreover,
give additional propriety and beauty to the expression

124 THE LIFE OF 1806.
of the old man, who is fearful of Alfred betraying
himself. " You wiU recollect that much glory surrounds the
character of Alfred — that any situation, however mean
in itself, receives dignity from him : the story, if I
may so express myself, should be told in blank verse.
Whatever may have been the fact, a certain classical
veU should be thrown over each trivial circumstance ;
and it is upon this ground I rather object at present to
the expression of the girl who is taking up the cakes,
as a little too ludicrous. The same natural manner
of taking them up, nay, the same expression of coun
tenance, may be preserved, only it should be softened,
and the face more refined and delicate : at present it
appears to me rather too large. I know you wiU
excuse the freedom vrith which I tell you my mind,
because I know there are too many who are looking
forward with malicious eagerness to criticise the
moment it makes its appearance. Not that I object
to fair and honest criticism ; and such a work as this
must be liable to it, even if painted by an angel."
The hardest task to which a painter sets liimself is to
work to the imagination : the fancy of the public had
already painted the heroic Alfred in air, and hung it
up before them, and every succeeding century added
to its dignity, till it took rank above aU save the
gods. It was to seize this picture of the mind that
Wilkie strove: that he made a noble picture is ge
neraUy felt, but that he came up to the dignity of the
poetic Alfred admits of many doubts. The following
is his answer on the subject : —

.ah.,-21. SIR DAA'ID WILKIE. 125

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir 10- Sols Row> Hampstead Road, Oct. 9. 1806.
I consider myself highly honoured by your kind
communications, particularly on account of the advice
you are pleased to give me on the study of my pro
fession, a subject that interests me so much. ~ Advice
from one of your eminence and experience in the Art
must be particularly A'aluable to one in my situation :
conscious of which I have frequently endeavoured to
retain in my mind the observations respecting the
Art I have accidentaUy heard you make whUe I was
in your company. The remarks you are pleased to
communicate to me in your letter I conceive to be
extremely just, and, I trust, avUI be of considerable use
in the management of the picture I am at present
engaged Avith. I am perfectly sensible of the diffi
culties I have to encounter in representing a king in
the habit of a Saxon, peasant, for it has been observed
that painters eA'en of eminence have had more assist
ance from the outward display of rich robes and garbs
in giving dignity to their characters, than from any
intrinsic greatness they had in themselves, from which
I am fuUy aware that it will not be an easy matter to
give majesty and rank where these symbols of great
ness are wanting. I also agree with you, on the other
hand, that every appearance of vulgarity should be
avoided in the peasants themselves, as the principal
object in an historical composition is to lead the mind
back to the time in which the transaction happened,
and the mind being always ready to associate elevated

126 THE LIFE OF 1806.
ideas Avith antiquity, the illusion must be instantly
destroyed, and the purpose of the picture entirely
defeated, if the AOilgar famUiarity of the circumstances
instantly puts us in mind of what passes every day
before our eyes. It wUl however be necessary for me
in the present instance to contrast the cottagers as
much Avith Alfred as may prevent him from being
mistaken for one of the famUy. I expect by the time
you arrive in toAvn to have the picture in such a state
as may in some measure show that I have apphed
your observations to practical use.
My friend Mr. Haydon is at present going on
vigorously Avith his picture of The Repose in Egypt.
The subject Lord Mulgrave has projected accords
entirely Avith his feehngs, and he is very much flattered
by such a mark of his Lordship's attention. He avUI
also consider himself highly honoured by a caU from
you when you are in toAvn. D. W.
Of this commission, which promised to be one of a
series of pictures from the History of England, Wilkie
was justly proud : his other orders might have come
from the sympathy natural to generous minds on
seeing one so young, so unfriended, and so gifted,
contending Avith high names and long-estabhshed
masters in the race for fame ; but the Alfred he
received as a proof that he was now owned as a
painter by his country; and reckoned worthy of
giving shape, and sentiment, and colour to scenes and
actions, at the mention of which the heart of every
Briton beats. He thus writes to Alexander Davison : —

^Et.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 127
" I feel sensible of the honour, in being called upon
to contribute in forming a grand coUection of pictures
illustrative of our national history. The way in
which the proposal has been made I regard as flat
tering and kind to me, as a young artist — by giving
me the choice of the subject.
" Availing myself of this indulgence, I beg to pro
pose as the subject of the picture ' Alfred disguised
hi the Neatherd's cottage ; reproached by the Neat
herd's Avife for aUowing the cakes to burn Avhich she
had committed to his care.' I conceive this simple
circumstance — though apparently trifling — may be
made interesting, from its relation to one of the most
distinguished characters in our history, and who may
be regarded as the founder of our monarchy and
adored constitution. Should this subject be to your
mind I wUl exert myself in the execution to render
it worthy of the series of pictures among Avhich you
propose to place it."
To vindicate the propriety of his OAvn choice Wilkie
read and studied, and referred to authorities till he
fiUed his mind Avith the subject. He felt that he had
denied to himself the aid of courtly circumstance and
regal splendour, and must rely upon mind and dra
matic skUl alone for success : unless he enabled the
world to recognise the king in the peasant he felt he
would faU, and this faUure, as his friend Sir George
Beaumont told him, the mahcious expected. His
father was moved beyond his usual calm tranquiUity
when informed of this commission, and continued
through several letters to inquire about King Alfred ;
saying but Uttle of an illness which detained him

128 THE LIFE OF 1806.
from the pulpit, or a sickness which drove his wife to
seek relief in sea-bathing: in aU these letters the
young artist is warned to take care of his health,
which constant study is likely to injure. But success
had done as much for Wilkie as the physician, and
the fresh free air of the country and society after his
own heart, kept iU health at arm's length for a time.
Nor was Sir George Beaumont or Mr. Whitbread
the only persons of condition from whom, in the
earliest days of his fame, the young artist experienced
acts of kindness, The Earl of Mulgrave not only com
missioned works from his hand, but continued to in
terest himself in his fortunes. " As I have reason,"
says his Lordship, in a letter from Mulgrave Castle, "to
hope that King Alfred is by this time completed in all
his glory upon your canvas, I write to remind you
that you are at full liberty to use your own discretion
as to the subject of the picture you are to paint for
me. As I shall be in London in about a fortnight
from this time, I reserve what I have to say to you on
a variety of subjects till we meet : I cannot, hoAvever,
close my letter, without expressing my earnest wishes
that every succeeding year may add to your fame and
fortune, and carry your name to posterity far above
all competition in the lively and interesting Une of
painting which you have adopted. I think you avUI
be pleased with the specimens which your friend Jack
son wUl bring with him from hence."
He was now busy with his picture of Sunday
Morning, and that more vigorous effort, The Rent Day.
In the Sunday Morning, there is peace in the air and
in the house, and old and young are purifying their

.Et.21. SIR DAA'ID AVTLK1E. 129
persons to go to church. An old peasant has seated
himself by the fire, draAvn towards him a table, hud
dled aU his books together, and the}- are not many,
to support the back of an old looking-glass, and, razor
in hand, is about to commence the remoA7al of his
bristly beard, when he is startled by the resisting out
cry of a petted grandchUd, whose face an unceremo
nious girl is washing. The old man seems irritated ;
first, with the rough edge of his razor, which threatens
a severe shave, and secondly, with the resistance and
noise ofthe chUd, who refuses to obey the use and
wont of the household. The cottage is Enghsh in its
furniture and arrangements, but the sentiment is for
aU time. This picture was ordered by the Earl of
Mulgrave, that he might have a work in his gaUery
from Wilkie, whUe The Rent Day, from which not
more was expected than was obtained, could he
finished. WhUst these pictures were on the easel, and others
afloat in his mind, he became acquainted with his
countryman. Andrew WUson, an artist who has since
distinguished himself in landscape and in the know
ledge of foreign paintings, and fiUed the situation of
Professor of Drawing in the CoUege of Sandhurst,
and of Master of the Trustees' Academy in Scotland,
with reputation. When he returned from Italy, for
the second time, in 1806, he heard of WUkie, among
his old associates, as a young artist of more than
ordinary promise, and desired to become acquainted
Avith him. " We met," says AndreAv Wilson, in a
letter from Genoa, written after the death of Sir
DaAid, at the request of his biographer, " avc met, for
VOL. I. K

130 THE LIFE OF 1806,
the first time, one morning at WUliam Thomson's :
there were present, besides Wilkie, young Haydon,
WUUam Havel, David Maclagan, and a Mr. CaUendar,
aU seemingly very intimate ; and I was told that it was
their practice to meet in this way at one another's
lodgings to converse about art. To be admitted into
such a society was very agreeable to me. WUkie I
always found very cheerful ; and as we did not devote
the whole of our time to the professed object of our
meeting, on one occasion, after some sohcitation, he
sung us one of Liston's songs, and imitated him in
voice and manner so happily, that I aU but thought
I heard that eminent actor's voice. One peculiarity
I could not help noticing ; when any thing was said
that WUkie did not clearly understand, he did not
hesitate to stop the conversation tiU it was explained :
this to me seemed odd, especiaUy as some of the ex
planations required were about simple matters in art.
Most young men I then thought would have scrupled
to appear ignorant ; but I have since seen enough to
set down this practice of his as a proof of superior
understanding. " Next day Wilkie came with Haydon to see the
paintings which I had brought from Italy : they told
me that Thomas Hope permitted artists to see his
pictures during one day in the week. I went with
Wilkie to the gaUery regularly for several weeks : the
study of the Dutch and Flemish masters, of whom I
did not know much before, was a source of infinite
pleasure. Wilkie's remarks were always accurate,
and he would dwell for a whole morning on two or
three pictures. I was so much delighted with his ob-

-St. 21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 131
servations and enthusiasm, that I expressed a Avish to
see his OAvn works, but his last finished picture had
gone to Somerset House, and the Exhibition Avas not
opened. I continued my A'isits to Mr. Hope's gallery
with WUkie, and extended them also to the galleries
of the Marquis of Stafford and Mr. Angerstein. I
did not perceive that the sudden fame of AVilkie
made the smaUest change: he continued the same
modest man and the same anxious student, after
the exhibition of The VUlage PoUticians, as he was
before. Indeed, he rather seemed to avoid notice,
and to attach himseh0 the more to his early companions
in art. Before the Exhibition closed he had begun
his picture of The Blind Fiddler. He had taken
lodgings beyond Tottenham Court Road, partly for
his health, and partly to avoid interruptions from ill-
timed visitors. I sometimes took breakfast Avith him,
and it was there I became acquainted Avith Jackson
the pamter. I remember the quiet glee Avith which
WUkie told us, that one day Bannister the actor caUed,
and was shown in whUe he was sitting on a low seat,
dressed as a woman, AA'ith a looking-glass before him,
performing the part of model for himself. Wilkie
was not the man to be in the least discomposed at
being found in such a phght. Bannister gazed on
him for a moment or so, and said, ' I need not intro
duce myself.' ' Truly no,' said Wilkie ; ' I know you
very weU ; but you see I can't move lest I spoil the
folds of my petticoat. I am for the present an old
woman, very much at your service.' "
WUkie, having finished the picture of The Blind
Fiddler, turned his thoughts on Alfred in the Neat-
k 2

132 THE LIFE OF 1806.
herd's Cottage, and caUed forth aU his skUl to work it
up to the ideas of Sir George Beaumont ; who, as he
had not interposed with his criticism during the pro
gress of The Blind Fiddler, was the more entitled to
be heard where he could have no interest save in the
artist's success. The critic was strong where the ar
tist was weak. He was a scholar as well as a man of
taste; descended too from a Une of kings and em
perors ; conversant Avith the history and character of
the times, of which the artist desired to give a Uvely
image ; and, more than aU, had much of that loftiness
of soul which the man must share in who paints
patriots and heroes. He was a gentleman dehcate in
aU that affected the feelings of men of genius. With
what graceful tenderness he hints the defects which he
observed in the colouring of The Blind Fiddler : —
" Save me from myself," says Sir George, "is as
rational a petition in painting as in morals : some
pecuhar colour is always striving to get the better of
an artist — some finesse in pencilling, under the pre
tence of neatness, splendour, or dispatch, is for ever
ready to take possession of him, and requires aU his
vigUance to oppose. I have endeavoured to detect
something in you of this kind, that I might mention
it as a warning. I perceive, or I think I perceive,
a tendency to — what shaU I call it ? — a metaUic ap
pearance in some parts of the drapery of the woman
with the chUd, particularly about the apron and the
head-dress of the child. Round the bhnd man, also,
there is a sort of slaty smoothness more than one
observes in nature : this appears in his stockings and
in various parts of his dress. I must again remind

Mt.21. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 133
you that these appearances are so slight that I almost
doubted whether I should mention them; but, on
consideration, I thought I should ill act the part of a
friend, did I not warn you in time; for a maimer
once estabUshed is, I AerUA" belieA'e, hrvincible. As
to any particular colour gaining upon you, I see no
symptoms of it at present ; when I do I shaU not faU
to act the part of a flapper. Do not trouble yourself
to answer this : you are much better employed, and
wUl accept this mark of my good wishes as in
tended." This letter was not answered for some time; for
the remarks on the Alfred had giA'en work to his
pencil, which was not more necessary than difficult to
accomplish. WhUe labouring to give high sentiment
the ascendency in the picture, he thought on his
native place, and on Kinnear of Kinloch, to whom
the foUowing letter was addressed in the latter end of
the autumn of 1806 : —
Dear Sir,
I have no doubt but you would rejoice to hear
of the unexpected encouragement that has so happUy
attended me, particularly as you yourself were the
chief promoter of my exertions in that branch of the
art which was so congenial Avith my inchnations, and
which is probably most suited to my abilities.
When I first came to London I found the picture I
had painted for you of less use to me than I expected.
It lay beside me for months Avithout being seen by
any body ; it was, however, at last accidentaUy shown
to the Countess of Mansfield, in consequence of which
K 3

134 THE LIFE OF 1807.
Lord Mansfield commissioned me to paint the picture
exhibited in the Royal Academy, after which the
Pitlessie Fair was also seen by a great number of
people, and Lady Ehzabeth Whitbread desired it to
be sent to her house. I have now got it back again.
It has, upon the whole, been admired; but more on
account of its being painted in Scotland, than for any
intrinsic merit it has in itself.
I am at present engaged vrith a picture which oc
cupies my whole attention. It is for a Mr. Davison, of
St. James's Square, who has engaged a number of
artists to paint him a gallery of pictures from the
History of England. The subject that I have chosen
is the weU-known circumstance of the burning of the
cakes Avhich occurred to Alfred, whUe disguised in the
cottage of the neatherd. This picture must be finished
by the end of December, as I have many other press
ing engagements on hand. D. W.
While his pencU was working up the picture of
Alfred to the heroic altitude which Sir George Beau
mont had assigned, Wilkie was not unmindful of the
duty which he owed to his famUy : he sent a cask of
London porter to his mother, for whose complaint
Dr. Grace had prescribed it; he assisted his sister
Helen to a piano; and he aided in sending out to
India a young lady, Miss Walker, a minister's daugh
ter of Fifeshire, who was betrothed to his elder bro
ther John, an officer in the service of the East India
Company. Nor will the foUowing letter be read
Avithout interest, brief though it be, from the almost

Mt.22. sir davtd AVILKIE. 135
scriptural simpUcity of the account Avhich the vener
able pastor of Cults renders of his household : " David,
your mother is Aery anxious to knoAv if you have
recovered the health in the country Avhich you lost in
toAA-n, and what picture you are painting. When I
wrote last, I mentioned my design of subsetting the
eleA'en acres of ground, including the glebe which I
have in my hands, and disposing of Avhat stock I
could spare. Since that time I haA'e set nine acres to
Robert Graham, and WUliam his brother, for thirty-
one pounds per annum, and I retain the two acres of
Easter glebe in my OAvn hands, for the support of a
cow. I haAe also sold by roup my horse, three cows,
and corn and fodder, and retain one cow and the hay
stack ; so that as your mother and I are but tenderly,
we expect to have much trouble through the year."
With what composure this good man sets his house
in order !
The progress of WUkie was not watched by the
good pastor of Cults Avith more anxiety than it was
by the accompUshed proprietor of Coleorton HaU, Sir
George Beaumont. " I suppose you have now com
pleted your Alfred," says the Baronet, in a letter
dated from his seat at Dunmow, on the 2d of Febru
ary, 1807 ; " and you may be sure I am anxious to
know whether you have in any degree satisfied your
self, for I neither expect nor wish to hear that you
are quite contented. I Ioioav few things more un-
pleasing in a picture than too great smoothness : there
are no objects in nature perfectly smooth except
poUshed objects and glass ; all other objects are varied
by innumerable lights, reflections, and broken tints:
K 4

136 THE LIFE OF 1807.
perhaps no man ever understood this fact better than
Rembrandt; and it is this which renders his drag,
his scratch with the pencil-stick, and his touch Avith
the palette-knife, so true to nature, and so delicious
to an eye capable of being charmed by the treasures
of the palette : and it is the want of this which ren
ders Wouvermans and other painters of high excel
lence in other respects comparatively insipid. I can
no longer resist my desire to have my picture sent
into the country: if you mean to exhibit it, I AviU
take care it shall be returned in time. I need not
add, though I avUI not press it, that if it be conve
nient to you to come doAAm to Dunmow, I shall be
very happy to see you."
Wilkie used to declare that when he met Sir George
Beaumont, or had a letter from him, he always stu
died with alacrity and cheerfulness for the rest of the
day : he spoke of him too as a man whom nature had
designed for a great painter, but whom high fortune
had marred.

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir 10- Sol's Row, Hampstead Road, Feb. 7. 1807.
I was honoured with your first letter shortly
after you left London ; and although I have been
thus long in acknowledging the receipt of it, I
have not neglected the observations it contained. I
compared them carefuUy with the pictures before me,
endeavouring to find out from whence the errors
arose, that I might know how to avoid them for the
future.

JEt.22. SLR DAVID WILKIE. 137
I finished the Alfred, and dehvered it to Mr. Da
vison at the appointed time, and I have since had
the happiness to hear that it gives him satisfaction.
How far I haA'e succeeded in the character of Alfred
and the other parts of the picture I would rather for
bear expressing my opinion, as I naturaUy wish that
your prepossessions should be as fiwourable to it as
possible. *
Mr. Charpentier has already sent for The Bhnd
Fiddler for the purpose of packing it up and sending
it to Dunmow. I have advanced a considerable way
with The Rent Day, and I find it a subject that wiU
suit me even better than I expected. Mr. Haydon is
proceeding on carefuUy with his picture ; but al
though he works constantly at it, it wUl still take
him a considerable time to finish. He talks fre
quently of the subject he has proposed for you, but
has not yet done much in sketching it. He requests
to be remembered to you.
I understand from Mrs. Phipps that you have
finished two pictures since you went to Dunmow.
This I was glad to hear.
As to the kind invitation which you are so good as
to repeat, I am afraid it avUI not be in my power to
accept it at present, from the necessity I am under of
being in Scotland a considerable time during summer.
I however look forward with agreeable anticipations
to a future opportunity of enjoying your society. D. W.
* The Alfred is now in the gallery of Sir Thomas Baring, Bart.

138 THE LIFE OF 1807.
When The BUnd Fiddler reached Sir George Beau
mont, it found him amid the society in which he
regularly moved — men of rank and men of talent; he
caused it instantly to be unpacked, placed it in a fine
hght, and called on aU his visitors to admire a won
der greater than The VUlage PoUticians, and wrought,
too, by the same hands. But perhaps the gratifica
tion at Dunmow scarcely equaUed the pleasure felt
at the manse of Cults when a letter was found an
nouncing the inteUigence that, as soon as he had
placed his picture of The Blind Fiddler in the Exhibi
tion, and enjoyed the paintings of the Royal Academy
for a day, he would set off for Scotland. " In the
midst of aU this," says his father, with his usual bre
vity, " Mr. Lister of Auchtermuchty came in, and told
us he had been at Kinloch, and had seen the picture
of Pitlessie Market, which was greatly admired by the
whole company, and much esteemed by Mr. and Mrs.
Kinnear. Your mother is far from weU, but is much
revived by the thoughts of seeing you. OAving to
the severity of the season, I have been ailing more
than usual."
The great fame which The ViUage PoUticians had
brought, and the smaU pittance which the picture had
put into his pocket, were matters which noAv passed
through the mind of Wilkie. He could not faU to
remember that Hogarth, to whom he had already
been compared, would probably have starved by his
paintings had he not seized the graver and given them
vrith equal force from the copper. He had not learned
to engrave, it is true, but that art, since the days of
Strange and WooUett, had become very popular in
England. The gravers of Sharp, Anker Smith,

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 139
Schiavonetti, Raimbach, and others scarcely less emi
nent, had diffused a knoAvledge and a love of British
painting OATer Europe. What WUkie required Avas a
spirit akin to his own, capable of entering into his
pecuharities of character, seizing the hue of mind
and calm humour of the north hi Avhich he exceUed,
and, Avithout losing his pecuhar touches, which Uke
the thumbinffs, and fingerings, and markings Avith the
pencU-stick and palette-knife of Rembrandt, went to
make up the sum total of attraction in the original.
An artist of this rare stamp he found in John Burnet,
his feUow-student in the Trustees' Academy of Edin
burgh; who, coming to London in 1806, seemed un
decided whether he would abide by the graver or the
pencil, and so continued alternately to hold both —
the former with unequaUed ease and vigour, and the
latter wdth a social and natural glee wliich has made
his Game of Draughts popular in aU lands where hu
mour is felt. On this he consulted one every way
capable of advising him.

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir 10- ^ol's Row, Hampstead Road, March 3. 1807.
WhUe I had the happiness of hearing that you
had received the picture, I was, at the same time,
particularly gratified by the pleasure and satisfaction
it seems to have given you. I intend to follow your
adAdce in exhibiting it, for which purpose I will re
quire to have it in toAvn before the end of this month,
as the time of receiving the pictures at the Royal
Academy is about the beginning of next month.

140 THE LIFE OF 1807.
When I saw you last I requested your permission
to have a print engraved from the picture, and since
that time I have had several apphcations, and some
considerable offers made me for the privilege of it, by
people of respectability. I find that it avUI be utterly
impossible to get it done in the stroke engraving from
the length of time it avUI take, and that, if it is to be
done in the chalk manner, even then a great part of
the plate must be done from a smaU copy of the pic
ture, as otherwise, from the tedious process of en-
graAdng, it would require the picture to be much
longer in the hands of the engraver, than I would by
any means wish it to be absent from you. I request,
therefore, that you wUl do me the favour, when you
write, to give me your opinion on the subject, and
advise me how to act. Since Lord Mulgrave has been
in town he has seen the picture I am now engaged
with, and hkes the subject very much. Mr. Jackson
is at present giving very regular attendance at the
Royal Academy. Mr. Haydon seems to improve very
much in execution as he advances Avith his picture. D. W.
" I am reaUy at a loss," says Sir George, " what
advice to give you respecting the engraving ; one
thing is certain, there cannot be a more pernicious
hbel on a good picture than a bad print, and therefore
as I trust you AviU ever find I prefer your real ad
vantage even to the pleasure of possessing and looking
at your works, great as the self-denial avUI be, you
shaU have the use of the picture long enough to give
the engraver aU the advantage possible, only, as those

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. Ill
gentlemen are apt to be both careless and dilatory, I
have no doubt but you aa'UI stimulate his exertions,
and take care the picture is not injured. I oaati I am
sorry it cannot be executed in the stroke manner, and
I Avish it were possible for you to etch the hands and
faces, for such has been the general neglect of draAv
ing in this country, that I much doubt whether you
wUl find a man capable of giving truth and hfe to the
hands, or the exquisite and appropriate expression to
the faces, and you weU know how much you wUl suffer,
especiaUy in foreign countries, by not having tolerable
justice done you in these respects.
" Another thing strikes me forcibly. I dread your
engaging yourself in a traffic of any kind : it is neces
sary you should preserve that liberality of mind, I know
you possess, inviolate, or you wUl not give the talents
Heaven has blessed you with aU the fair play necessary
to bring them to perfection. You wUl find the imposi
tions and extortions of printers, pubhshers, &c. &c, wiU
harass and distract your mind, and fiU it Avith notions
you have no idea can take possession of it at present.
I Avish it were possible for you, without loss, to get rid
ofthe whole concern immediately upon pubhcation, but
as this is a subject which requires mature consider
ation, I dare say you wiU not hastUy commit yourself,
and we avUI talk it over at leisure when I come to
town. One thing more I shall take the liberty of
recommending, and that is, the price it avUI be prudent
for you to fix upon your pictures. I have no doubt,
that at present you might have any price you might
think it reasonable to ask ; but the question is, whether
those people who are wiUing and able to give high

142 THE LIFE OF 1807.
prices are sufficiently numerous. I .have seen so
many instances of young men overrating the patronage
ofthe pubhc, and in consequence remaining surrounded
in more advanced Ufe by their OAvn works, that, pos
sessing and feelmg the regard I do for you, I could
not refrain from this hint, and on this ground I know
you wiU excuse me. I hope you are more careful
about your colours than about your ink, which was so
completely faded by the time your letter arrived here
that I could hardly read it."
WUkie treasured up in his mind the valuable opi
nions of his friend regarding the engraving of his pic
tures, and he resolved to have his works translated, or
rendered into the black and white of ink and paper, by
none save the most skUful. At the same time he could
not but feel how valuable to a great painter a great
engraver was : whUe the canvas itself remained fixed
as fate in some rich man's gaUery, and only known to
the fortunate few who had influence to open the re
luctant doors, the impressions from the graver flew
hghtly over the world, and carried into the cabin of
the cotter, as weU as into the haU of the lord — the
same shape, and sentiment, and feehng — we had al
most said the same colour — which charmed us in the
original. The painter who disregards this auxiliary
art seems wiUing to lose the influence of half of his
OAvn power, and, what is equaUy remarkable, to lose
the honourable profits of his own genius : he loses the
half of his power, because he keeps half the world in
ignorance of his strength ; and he foregoes the honour
able fruits of his own genius, because he has as fair a
right to share in the profits of the engraving as the

iET.22. SIH DAVID WILKIE. 143
hand has which directs the graver. The season of
the Royal Academy Exliibition arrived Avhile "Wilkie
was meditatmg on these matters, and he sent to it his
Blind Fiddler, Avith but feAv of the fears Avhich aceoin-
panied his VUlage Politicians.
Now those Avho imagine that the Royal Academy
is whoUy composed of high-minded men of genius,
Avho are not only generous by nature and free from
envy, but proclaimed " Esquires" by letters patent,
are reaUy gentlemen one and aU, can knoAv but little
of human nature, and less of bodies corporate. The
fame of WUkie, which was almost on every Up, was
not heard, it is said, without a leaven of bad feeling
on the part of some of the members whose genius
ought to have raised them above such meanness, and
whose works being in a far different Une of art, were
fairly out of the embittering influence of rivalry. We
know not how this was of our own knowledge, but
we know that in arranging the pictures on the walls
of the exhibition rooms, an envious academician can
make one fine picture injure the effect of another, by a
starthng opposition of colour, whUe a generous acade
mician can place the whole so as to avoid this cross-fire
of colours, and maintain the harmony which we look
for in galleries of art. When the doors of the Ex
hibition were opened in 1807, whUe painters, as usual,
complained, some of pictures being hung in an un
suitable place, and others of works placed in injurious
hghts, the pubhc were not sIoav in observing that The
BUnd Fiddler, with its staid and modest colour, was
flung into echpse by the unmitigated splendour of a
neighbouring picture, hung for that purpose beside it,

144 THE LIFE OF 1807.
as some averred, and painted into its overpowering
brightness, as others more bitterly said, in the var
nishing time which belongs to academicians between
the day when the pictures are sent in, and that on
which the Exhibition opens. There must be some
mistake, we trust, in this ; the arrangement, of which
we know complaints were openly made, must have
been accidental, for who can beheve that a studied
attempt could be made to push back into darkness a
youthful spirit struggling into Ught, or that an able
artist could not but know that he might as well try
to keep the sun from rising as a genius such as Wilkie's
from shining.
If such a thing occurred, WUkie was amply avenged
in the praises of his picture, which were too loud
to permit even the voice to be heard which averred
that his draAving was not in the academic style of
art, and that his colouring was too subdued and cold.
The human nature which he had stamped on the
whole scene triumphed over aU; the pictures of the
academicians, in the same room, with aU their sci
entific draAving and glow, faded to attract. The
visitors crowded to The Bhnd Fiddler ; and Ju
piter presenting to Diana her Bow and Arrows,
Flora unveUed by the Zephyrs, nay, even the Sun
rising through Vapour, or The Blacksmith's Forge,
Avith its overpowering Ught, were disregarded in com
parison. In unity of purpose, this is probably the
finest work of WUlde; in variety of character and
force of dehneation, he afterwards equalled, if he did
not surpass it. It tells the story as plainly as if the
actors spoke : the very name of the work is super-

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 145
fluous, for no one can look upon it Avithout feeling
and understanding the Avhole. A blind and strolling
fiddler, who, if painted since Scott's Redgauntlet Avas
written, might haA'e passed for his Wandering Willie,
Avith his AAife and tAvo children, has sought shelter or
rest in a shoemaker's cottage: and, to requite such
hospitahty, has taken his fiddle from the case, screwed
the pegs with a careful hand, slanted his chest over
the instrument, hke one who knows his craft, and is
treating the family to one of his favourite tunes. The
shoemaker's Avife, pleased Avith the musie, but still more
Avith her youngest chUd, is dandling it on her knee in
unison AAith her husband's thumbs, who is cracking
them in quick time, for the air seems a lively one.
Two chUdren, a Uttle in advance of their mother,
are standing gazing, with wondering eyes, on the
rustic musician, marvelling, no doubt, how one so old
and blind can produce such delightful sounds; the
youngest has stopt a go-cart, lest the drag along the
floor should hurt the harmony : their elder brother —
a sort of cottage Puck — just old enough to have
shed two of his foreteeth, is mimicking, with some
skiU, the motions of the musician : his fiddle is a pair
of old beUoAvs, and his glee is aU his own. Behind
him a girl has left her wheel, on which she was spin
ning hemp for her master's thread, and hstens anx
iously to the music : the sound, perhaps, has carried
her fancy far away to some merry scene, where she
danced to the tune vrith a lad to her hking. The
day is cold: we guess, by the close-hooded wife of
the mendicant, and her little vagrant warming his
hands, that it is Avinter. She Ustens indeed, but she
VOL. i. l

146 THE LIFE OF 1807.
Ustens like one accustomed to such sounds, whUe the
shoemaker's father, who has given his seat to the
musician, stands listening, pleased but not joyful. A
rude drawing of a soldier Avith a SAvord in his hand,
said to be a copy from one of the artist's Pitlessie
school attempts, is stuck on the wall, whUe on the
chimney mantel lie several weU-thumbed volumes,
beside the stiff formal head of a parson, by which the
artist designed perhaps to intimate that this merry
cobbler was inclined to Methodism.
" The Bhnd Fiddler," observes Andrew WUson, in
continuation of his remarks upon WUkie, " excited
great admiration in the Exhibition ; it was regarded as
a vast improvement even upon The VUlage PoUticians,
and one of the most perfect works of the kind ever
produced by any British artist, and fairly established
his fame. His great youth and his extraordinary
merit induced several eminent persons, lovers and
patrons of art, to consider the best means of en
couraging a painter of such wonderful promise. I
Avas a frequent visitor of the gaUery of Mr. West,
President of the Royal Academy, and by accident was
present one day when several noblemen and gentle
men met, seemingly for the purpose of consulting
West on the subject. One of them, I remember,
observed, that perhaps it might not be prudent to
give Wilkie too many commissions at once, as he
would probably exert himself beyond his strength :
besides, a young man wrought better from hope some
times than from certamty. To this remark the Pre
sident replied, ' Never in my whole experience have
I met Avith a young artist like Wilkie : he may be

Mt.-22. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 147
young in years, but he is old in the experience of his
art : he is already a great artist, therefore do not
hesitate in offering him commissions and all the
encouragement in your power. I have the most per
fect confidence in his steadiness, as well as in his
abilities. I consider him an honour to his country.'
One of those persons (Sir Francis Bourgeois, I think)
agreed to speak in his ftrvour to the Duke of Glou
cester, who had at that time given commissions to
several artists. For his Royal Highness he painted
The Card Players, a subject which afforded but httle
variety of character." Those noble persons had not
been accustomed to pay for any productions of British
art save portraits, the offspring of half a dozen
sittings. They did not, perhaps, reflect that one of
WUkie' s compositions was the labour of a year, and
that fifty pounds was no remuneration for models and
colours alone. The time was not far distant when a
sense of this pressed sorely on him.
May had not weU begun when WUkie was on his
way to Scotland. He had a twofold joy to taste of the
purest and sweetest kind; he had to meet his father
and his mother with fame on his brow, and to visit
the friends of his native place, to bestow rather than
receive honour. Genius is seldom so happy; be
fore it has risen to distinction almost aU who loved
it in youth, or hoped its ascent, or desired to rejoice
in its joy, have passed to the dark and narrow house,
and left its welcome to a colder generation. Wilkie
was more fortunate ; and the few weeks he spent at
this time in Scotland he called the happiest of his
hfe. Nor was he forgotten by the friends he had
l 2

148 THE LIFE OF 1807.
acquired in the south. A letter soon followed him to
Fife from Sir George Beaumont, who loved to talk
with Wordsworth on poetry and with WUkie on
painting. " The remark," he says, " which you made upon
the effect the Exhibition produced upon your picture,
namely, that you expected its tone would be lowered,
but that you did not expect its richness would have
been diminished so much, appears to me so just, and
so exactly accords Avith the remarks I myself made,
and which I endeavoured to express to you in my
letter from Dunmow, that I have no doubt but you
vriU daUy improve, and at length obtain that richness
of surface and fulness of colour which Avas the only
exceUence I thought likely to escape you. The
essentials — expression and feeling — I was never in
fear about. Study Rembrandt, and Ostade, and
Watteau, but especially Rembrandt. I know his
large pictures are too rough for your purpose; but
conceive them reflected in a concave mirror, and you
wiU immediately see all you want.
" I think you hardly allow time enough for read
ing; you should enrich your mind by the study of
our best authors, especiaUy the poets. You can
never read Shakspeare, Milton, and Spenser too much.
Some of our best novelists, as Richardson, Fielding,
and Smollett, are also worthy of your attention.
Don Quixote I particularly recommend: let him Ue
upon your table, and read a chapter when you are
fatigued with your work; it wUl refresh and improve
your mind. As I am sure you are convinced I have
your interest much at heart, I know you wUl excuse

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 149
my requesting you not to let any one engrave from
your works without much consideration, and by no
means to suffer the bookseUers to fix your name to
prints imworthy of you. If you favour me Avith
a line, direct to me at Keswick, Cumberland, to
AA-hich place I shaU proceed in a few days, to enjoy
the great pleasure of contemplating the beauties of
that country Avith my exceUent. friend Wordsworth.
and profiting by his remarks and conversation. Al
though I have not the pleasure of knoAving your
father, pray present my best congratulations to him
on your success. Lady Beaumont desires her com
pliments. I fear you had a turbulent sea- voyage, but
if it prevent you from running such risks in future
perhaps it may be a wholesome admonition."
This letter found Wilkie, instead of holding high
festival Avith the " Folks of Fife," slowly recovering
from a fever brought on through excitements by sea
and land.

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir Cults, June 30. 1807.
I arrived here after a tolerable passage by sea,
in about a week from the time I left London, and the
reception I met with from my father and mother was
such as might naturaUy be expected after the for
tunate circumstances that have occurred to me during
my absence. But I am sorry to say, my time since
has not been spent in those pursuits of study that I
was proposing to employ myself in Avhen I saw you
l 3

150 THE LIFE OF 1807.
last ; for, almost immediately after my arrival, I was
seized Avith a severe fever, which has not only pre
vented me from doing any thing ever since, but
obliged me to confine myself a great part of the time
to bed. I have, however, the happiness to find my
self, by medical assistance and the care and attention
of my friends, so far recovered as to be able to walk
and ride in the fields, and I expect soon to begin
some studies from nature, for which there are several
good subjects in this neighbourhood.
I was much gratified by your kind letter. I may
even say it has contributed to my recovery. The
frank and open manner in which you give me your
opinion and advice are testimonies of your friendship,
that I consider myself happy in being favoured with.
My father and mother beg leave to present their
respectful compliments, with their grateful acknow
ledgments, for your attentions to me. I shall be
happy to know how your health is, as you were rather
complaining when in London. D. W.
Kind inquiries as weU as kindly letters Avere not
wanting to contribute to the restoration of health,
Avhich had indeed been shaken, but not seriously in
jured. The noble famihes of Leven and Crawford,
who had interested themselves in the first dawn of
his fame, called to rejoice Avith him now when it had
brightened into day ; nor were his old school comrades,
on whose boyish faces he first tried his pencU, back
ward; neither did those older and graver persons
whom he had introduced in his Pitlessie Fair hesi-

Mt.22. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 151
tate, it is said, to caU and forgive him, for having
handed them up to fame in the lasting colours of his
pencU. He, howeAer, was uneasy, for he felt that the
fever had lessened his vigour, and he complained, in
a letter to a feUow-student in London, that he Avas
rendered unfit for any thing like study, and Avas not
more than capable of walking, without assistance,
across the room. " I am, however, considerably re
covered," he adds, " and have reason to be thankful
that I am in my father's house. I hope soon to be
able, with a little care, to take a ride through the
neighbourhood." To the Rev. James Lister, of Auch-
termuchty, he writes thus of his professional success :
— '• For the first nine months after I went to London
I met with very httle success ; so Uttle, indeed, that
I had almost determined to return to Scotland, and
betake myself to that branch of the art in which I
had been encouraged formerly; but the unexpected
success which my first effort obtained in the Royal
Academy Exhibition expanded my views, and deter
mined me, by the help of study and appUcation, to
persevere in this change in the object of my studies,
and carry it out as far as it would go." In a simUar
strain, it avUI be remembered, he addressed his father
and his brother, Avhen The ViUage Politicians threw
an unlooked-for hght on his path.*

* When I first came to London, I had but a small sum of money saved
from my labours in Fifeshire — about 601. I had no friend previously in
London, and contrived to go through the first twelvemonth in very hard
study, with very little encouragement, and certainly within the expense
of 100/. I also remember having a sort of dread of returning to Fife
shire, and took every means to get such a footing here as might render it
unnecessary." — To John Anderson, Esq. Jan. 1. 1820.
L 4

152 THE LIFE OF 1807.
The works of the British school of art seem the
result of chance — the offspring of accident, rather than
of any settled aim or fixed purpose of soul. A painter
makes a portrait ; a family group ; a landscape with
cattle in it ; or, touched by some passage in the popular
poet of the day, he embodies the scene, and sends the
result to be hung up on the Academy waUs, — such
works generaUy compose Avhat is caUed the Exhibition
of the Royal Academy : and when we have added a
few busts, a portrait-statue, and an aUegory in honour
of the heroes of the last " Gazette," we have said aU that
can be said in honour of the sister art of Sculpture.
An artist is caUed in as a sort of physician to aUeviate
the pangs of private vanity, but there is no such
thing as a principle observed in his productions.
Hogarth, indeed, had an aim of this nature, and created
a series of works, dramatic, satiric, and moral, which
are truly national ; but the works of Sir Joshua Rey
nolds are but the portraits of such persons as were
in love with their own looks, together with a few
heads of the sons of the morning amongst them : the
works of Sir Thomas Lawrence are of the same stamp :
Fuseh Avent far to render our sublime poetry ridicu
lous by a series of fantastic compositions: HUton,
indeed, had an epic aim in almost aU he attempted,
and Avith his fine eye in draAving, and his taste for
colour, approached nigh to Spenser : but it was reserved
for Wilkie, without leaning on the polished rod of
verse or the staff of history, to evoke out of the
domestic manners and circumstances of this island, a
series of noble pictures, Avhich, with all the glow of
Teniers, Avithout his grossness, exhibit a dramatic

iET.22. SIR DAVH) AVILKIE. 153
skill of dehneation, in Avhich Hogarth is alone his
equal. He had already painted the first and se
cond pictures of tins great series in The AiUage
PoUticians and The BUnd Fiddler : the one rebuking
our clubs of rustic legislators, the spawn of the
French revolution, and the other calhng us to the
charities of domestic Ufe ; a third he had left on the
easel, namely The Rent Day, where he holds out a
lesson on the insolence of office, and shows how age,
and want, and widowhood suffer from the hard of
heart. This is the new line in which he obtained, as
he says to Mr. Lister, his unlooked-for success ; and
from which he says to his father and his brother he
hoped for immortal fame.
With these thoughts WUkie was busied whilst he
lay alone on a sick bed at Cults ; and the resolution
Avhich he formed was pursued with but httle deviation
from that hour to his last. In aU that involved the
dignity of his art he met with a wise counsellor in
Sir George Beaumont, and also an agreeable corre
spondent. In a letter from Keswick he says, " I hope
by this time you have recovered your strength, and
that after what has passed you wUl return by land.
I caught a cold four and twenty years ago in crossing
from Dover to Ostend, and I verily think I feel the
effects of it to this day ; certain it is a fever succeeded
which reduced me to a mere skeleton, and I could not
entirely get rid of it aU the time I was abroad.
" I have been incessantly engaged contemplating
the beauties of nature since I arrived at this place,
and taking advantage of the fine weather, for which
Keswick is not particularly famous, or I should have

154 THE LIFE OF 1807.
answered your letter immediately after receiving such
an account of your health. As to my oavti, which you
are so kind as to inquire after, I think I am stronger,
and can take more exercise Avithout fatigue. I have
left off Avine altogether, and I think I am the better
for it. As to the essentials in your art, I am in
no fear for you; but the ornamental AviU require
your constant attention. Richness, transparency, and
effect make so large a portion of the pleasure we de
rive from looking at a picture, and add so much —
particularly the last — to the sentiment of the work,
that it would be very unwise to neglect them. I
think, though I speak with some diffidence, that you
wiU not be able to satisfy yourself entirely, Avithout
making more use of the ground than you have done
in your two last pictures. Certain it is, aU the Flem
ings were as careful of their ground as a tinter is of
his paper ; and even Rembrandt, although he loads, and
(if I may say so) nourishes, the picture with colour in
the light and emphatic points, yet he is generally thin
in the shadows ; and I think we observed together, in
my little picture by him of the Descent from the Cross,
wherever he had failed, he has cut out the paper, and
inserted a fresh piece : despairing, probably, of being
able to give it that relish and lightness which, to his
fine eye, was so very essential. I shall stay here a
month longer. It is hardly out of your road as you
return." Jackson, for whom Wilkie ever expressed a Avarm
friendship, constantly corresponded Avith him whUe in
Scotland. That distinguished painter, under the aus
pices of Lord Mulgrave and Sir George Beaumont,

iET.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 155
now entered on his career, which Avas destined to be
so short.

TO SHt GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir, C^Us. 2d August, 1807.
The earnest inquiries after my health ex
pressed in your letter produce in me the most grateful
feelings. I am now almost completely recovered.
I suppose you avUI now and then be amusing your
self by making studies from those beauties you so
much admire in the neighbourhood of KesAvick. I
have been of late trying some experiments in painting
on mUl-board, making use of it as an absorbent ground.
But, although I am sensible of the advantage that is
gained by the clearness and purity of the colours, yet
I find as much difficulty in preserving that correctness
of tint and neatness of touch so easUy acquired by the
other method, that I am almost inchned to doubt the
propriety of the process, particularly when I reflect
that time itself avUI, in all probabihty, perform the
office of an absorbing ground. I have not as yet done
much in the way of sketching here ; indeed, I have
been prevented from doing as much as I ought from
the want of proper materials. I expect, however, to
get some from Edinburgh soon, which is the only
place where articles of that kind may be had. I am at
present in the habit of hearing from my friend Jack
son, who, from his oavu account, is going on briskly
Avith a large group of portraits of the Jennerian
Society. He says he has already had two sittings

156 THE LIFE OF 1807.
from the Marquis of Huntly, and expects the Duke of
Bedford soon. I earnestly hope that Mr. Jackson
may finish this picture. D. W.
WUlde's dehcate state of health, in spite of his sister's
care and his mother's tenderness, continued through
August and September: at length iUness began to
yield to youth on his side, and attention and skiU on
the part of others, and he grew impatient to resume his
studies again. He could find but few ofthe materials of
his art in Fifeshire, save the human character which
is impressed so indeUbly on his productions. Those
curious in county history say, that when in want of
a head to help out either the seriousness or the hu
mour of any of his scenes, he had recourse to Cults,
which supphed all he required. He remained at the
Manse tiU October was begun, and then set off for
Edinburgh, to which city Ids mother accompanied
him. Disregarding the fears of Sir George Beaumont,
he took shipping at the pier of Leith, and without any
accident or any suffering (for the Aveather was fair
and fine) arrived in London.

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKES. 157

CHAPTER VI.
PATSTS " THE CARD-PLATTERS " FOR THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER,
A>T> "THE REST DAY" FOR THE EARL OF MULGRAVE.  EX
TRACTS FROM JOURS" AL.
Ix the foUowing letter to his brother in India
WUkie gives a brief account of his visit to Cults, and
of his expectations in art. He was stUl flying in
Sols' Row, Hampstead Road.
TO LIEUTENANT JOHN WTLKLE.
My dear Brother,
Since I last wrote to you, I have been a
visit to Scotland, where I spent about five months in
that most idle of aU occupations, visiting my friends.
It was, however, a very pleasant time, and the atten
tions I received in consequence of the success I had
met with in London, made me almost forget the
exertions that were necessary to secure my future
reputation. I have, since I returned to London, so far made up
for my neghgence in Scotland, that I have completely
finished the picture Avhich I intend for the Duke of
Gloucester. You avUI very naturaUy conclude from the ac
counts you have most hkely heard of the fame that I
have acquired that I must be rapidly accumulating a

158 THE LIFE OF 1807.
fortune. It is, however, I am sorry to say, very
far from being the case. What I have received since
I commenced my career has been but barely sufficient
to support me ; and I do not live extravagantly either.
Indeed, my present situation is the most singular that
can weU be imagined. I beheve I do not exaggerate
when I say that I have at least forty pictures
bespoke, and some by the highest people in the
kingdom; yet, after all, I have but seldom got any
thing for any picture I have yet painted. I have
some intention, in order to establish a criterion to
regulate my prices by, of putting a picture up at a
public sale, where alone I think I can have justice
done me. D.W.
Though rising every day in reputation, WUkie could
not fail to observe that the great masters of the caUing
had not gained their fame without genius, nor main
tained it Avithout continual study. He therefore —
though some marveUed — attended the classes of the
Royal Academy as usual; Ustened to the lectures on
painting and sculpture of Tresham and Flaxman, and,
though never contending for a prize, he studied from
the naked figure with unremitting dUigence, and, as
his draAvings show, with far more success than from
the plaster or the marble. His eye lightened up, it
is said, when the living model was placed in a grace
ful or agreeable posture ; and he has been heard to
mutter unconsciously to himself, " Nature alone is
the truth ; the rest is but a beautiful fiction." Nor
did he refuse to the pictures which he had finished,

Mt. 22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 159
but not sent home, the advantage of this groAving
knowledge : when he chanced to see a form or a turn
which he could employ usefuUv, he grafted it into
the picture; and the care Avith Avhich he performed
this he reckoned a proof of its propriety, while the
skUl Avith which he achieA'ed this difficult operation
showed that he was rapidly acquiring mastery in
his art.
On Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage he bestowed,
as we have partly shoAvn, uncommon pains — such
pains as in ordinary hands defeat their OAvn object,
by overpoAvering the faculties instead of stimulating
them. He considered and reconsidered the story;
drew the figures singly, then grouped them ; and, not
content with caUing in the Uving model for each, to
secure the truth of the posture, he modeUed the whole
in clay, that he might ascertain the hght and shade
of the composition. The Neatherd of Alfred, Uke
the SAvineherd of Ulysses, is a prudent man, and one,
too, of substance ; but, unlike the Ithacan, the Saxon
knew his heroic master, for, having disguised him in
servile attire, he concealed him in his farmstead from
the search of the Danes, and, harder stiU, from the
knowledge of his own wife. His household has a
substantial Saxon look, and, under the management
of his Avife and two handmaidens, looks trim and
comfortable: the Neatherd himself is seen entering
Avith a burthen of firewood on his shoulder, while his
spouse makes her appearance from an exterior cham
ber with business on her brow. She has not come a
moment too soon ; for Alfred, to whom she had con
fided the care of turning a batch of cakes at the

160 THE LIFE OF 1807.
hearth fire, had, in the joy of shaping a good yew
bow, neglected his duty, and allowed them to burn,
while his mind was busied in the battle field. The
house dame, who holds carelessness to be a crime, and
frugality a Airtue, bears in her face, as plain as colour
and character can say it, " If ye cannot turn a cake,
ye can eat one fast enough." The disguised prince,
who has a new killed rabbit at his foot, rouses himself
from a reverie of " biUs and bows," and sees, Avith
mingled dignity and confusion of face, one of the
handmaids extmguishing a burning cake, while the
house-dog has stalked beneath the table Avith another.
Though a peasant in attire, his look is natural,
noble, perhaps kingly, and, more than aU, simple and
unaffected. The accessories are in keeping with
the principal group: the Neatherd has a look of
alarm, for he dreads that Alfred, stung Avith the
taunts of his Avife, may betray himself; whUe another
handmaid is busily kneading more cakes, unconscious
of the din of her dame's tongue or the savour of the
burning bread, for the whispering of a peasant youth
who stands beside her shuts her senses to aU else.
The picture was regarded as a noble effort; yet so
fearful was WUkie of " critical dissection," that though
satisfied with it himself, he withheld it from pubhc
exhibition till other works and increasing fame had
rendered him less timorous.
His next picture comes closer in its subject to
our oaati times and our oaati experience; this is The
Rent Day, Avhich he painted for his munificent
friend the Earl of Mulgrave. We have seen that the
Earl, aware, perhaps, of the waywardness of genius,

2Et.22. SIR DAVID W1LKIK. 161
aUoAved the painter to choose his oavii subject; neither
did he hmit him in price, but gaA'e him fuU range in
both. In this he acted like one avIio kneAv the nature
and the limits of art, and at all events felt that the
man who coidd paint such scenes as The Village Poli
ticians and The Blind Fiddler might be safely trusted
in the selection of a fitting subject, on which some
said, and more imagined his fame Avould depend.
" We have seen artists paint a first good picture Avho
neA'er could paint a second ; and we haA'e seen artists
paint a second who faded at a third, and were heard
of no more :" such were the whisperings of those
who disliked the sudden rise of one so young, or who
beheved that nothing permanently exceUent could be
produced save by men groAvn grey Avith study at
home and abroad.
The image which The Rent Day gives of rustic life
is perfect : that eventful period of reckoning is fami
har, in its reahty, to the mind of every husbandman,
and to fancy by the aid of the muse. Had WUkie
been totaUy ignorant of griping landlords and stern
factors, he might have learned enough for his picture
from the hnes of Burns : —
" I've notic'd on our laird's court-day,
And monie a time my heart 's been wae,
Poor tenant bodies scant o' cash,
How they maun thole a factor's snash ;
He '11 stamp and threaten, curse and swear,
He '11 apprehend them, poind their gear,
While they maun stan' wi' aspect humble,
And hear it a', and fear and tremble ! "
The scene of the picture is the hall of the laird's
house, and the persons in the drama are the factor
VOL. I. M

162 THE LIFE OF 1807.
and the tenants ; the former has no invitation in his
looks to those who have not the full rent in their
purses, and the latter seem to be a class who are
drooping under the double pressure of " racked
rents," and an exacting landlord. At one end of
the haU stands a table, at which sits the steward
amid papers and leases, receiving the rents, and at
the other end stands another table, at which those
who have their receipts in their pockets dine at their
ease. Both tables are smaU, which may imply that
the laird affords little room for meat and wine at his
expense, and Avishes to supply no grumbling farmer
Avith space to spread out his lease, and appeal to its
words from the dictum of the steward. Between
these tables, and right in the middle of the haU, stand
or sit, singly or in pairs, the farmers whose time to
pay has not yet come ; two are seated — one old,
and bent, and coughing as though he would cough
his last ; and the other gnawing the head of his
staff, sorely perplexed how to make forty pounds do
the work of fifty. Two hale old men, with shrewd
and calculating looks, stand behind the other pair:
one, to secure the attention of the other, holds him by
the button ; and their talk is evidently of faUing
markets, rack-rents, and hard-hearted stewards. The
like sentiments seem to pass through the mind of a
modest and quiet young widow, who is seated more
in the foreground, Avith one child at her foot, and
another on her knee : her look speaks of a desolate
heart and home ; the key of her house -door is a play
thing in the hands of her youngest chUd, Avho uses it
as a coral. Behind her stands an old farmer, Avho

Mt.22. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 103
seems unskUful in arithmetic, Avhatever he may be in
the proper rotation of crops ; for he is summing up
his rent on his fingers, and is evidently much puzzled
with refractory fractions.
On the left hand of this group of tenantry stands
the dinner table, round Avhich are seated those who
have already settled their rents. Three men and a
woman are cutting their way into the roast beef,
diving into the bowels of a pasty, and drinking, be
tween eA'ery mouthful, Avith the aAidity of hunger, and
the desire to get as much as they can by way of luck-
penny out of their avaricious landlord. A well-
powdered butler is drawing corks with all his might,
and marveUing, whUe he draws them, at the drought
of the party, whUe a hungry dog sits licking its lips
at every mouthful. On the right hand of the central
group, a cheerful fire is burning in the chimney, and
a fat roast (a barn-door fowl, perhaps), for the
steward's own dinner, revolves in a tin screen : whUe
on the soft rug beside it, with bosom turned to the
warmth, Ues a pug dog, a weU-fed favourite, its eyes
nearly grown up with fat. Here the painter has
placed the chief group ofthe picture. With the back
of his chair to the fire, the steward is seated; his
official papers displayed at his feet, his right hand
spread anxiously over a quantity of gold, his hps
apart, and his eyes flashing in contradiction to a
young husbandman, who is pleading the cause of a
very old man, who stands a figure of silence and of
patience, and endeavours to reclaim some of his rent,
as due to him both in justice and mercy. It is quite
plain that the steward rejects, with warmth, this in-
M 2

164 THE LIFE OF 1808.
fraction of a signed and sealed agreement ; while the
resolute farmer, in honest anger, continues to insist.
Another of the tenants, who has just paid his rent,
seems to suspect that he has been overreached, and
stands pondering, with a pen in his mouth, over a
doubtful summary on the back of his lease. The
whole picture awakens feelings of a painful nature.
The farmers are all of that humble class who them
selves hold the plough, and sow, and reap, and gather
in their own fields, and may be set down as unskilful
in figures, and unknowing in the law language of
leases. On the other hand, the steward, with some
smattering of law and some skUl in arithmetic, domains
it like a hawk over a brood of chickens, browbeats one,
misleads another, and perhaps cheats the whole.
Of the merits of this fine picture, as a weU-told
story and a life-hke representation of a scene famihar
to two-thirds of the nation, almost aU who saw it
could judge, and with such the artist was safe. But
there is a class of men whom original exceUence itself
cannot please, men who have no true judgment of
their own, but who cry out for beauty such as that of
Raphael in a picture, and sweetness such as that of
Shakspeare in a poem, and refuse to admire all merit
of a lower reach. Critics of this stamp fastened upon
The Rent Day : they refused to see that it sought to
move the heart by afresh infusion of human nature into
the story of the picture, and as the action was humble,
academic beauty of form was undesirable and inju
rious. It Avas natural, they admitted, but nature was
its fault ; for as nature, as Fuseli said, put him out,
so did it put out all artists who foUowed it close

2ET.23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 165
and copied it in its oddities, and Avith these they said
this picture abounded. But they did not consider the
question truly. In epic composition, and Raphael's
is of that rank, perfect beauty and heroic dignity of
shape and sentiment are indeed required; but the
composition of WUkie Avas not of epic but of the dra
matic kind, which admitted the humours of Falstaff,
and the follies of Dogberry and Verges, as readUy as
the lofty phUosophy of Hamlet and the heroic despair
of Macbeth.
The Rent Day was foUowed by a portrait of Lady
Mary Fitzgerald, for the Earl of Mulgrave. It is
true Wilkie felt that, though portraiture was of a
domestic character, his strength did not he in that
direction; but he did not faU to see what Hogarth
perceived before him, that the refreshing dews of
patronage faU on this branch, leaving the other boughs
of the great tree of art dry, and that aU those who
desired to Ave must condescend to seek their bread
by ministering to the domestic taste — the amiable
Aranity of mankind. Neither did he fail to feel that
while the heads in his VUlage Politicians, his Blind
Fiddler, and his Rent Day, cost him invention and
study, a portrait came ready-made in form, and hue,
and sentiment, to his hand, and that he had, in
copying it into his canvass, only to follow what was
before him with taste and feehng, and his work was
accompUshed. In this spirit, Sir Joshua Reynolds
complained that historic composition cost him too much
— meaning that portraiture Avas the more lucrative of
the two. It is hkely that feAv of those, and they were
many, who blamed WUkie for stooping to portraiture,

166 THE LIFE OF 1808.
would have been as abstemious in this as he was, or
hungered and thirsted as he did in the high cause of
dramatic painting.
With his father, whose health had been long on the
dechne, he maintained a very affectionate correspond
ence : he inquired with anxious minuteness into his
condition, and communicated the opinions of various
physicians whom he consulted with equal tenderness
and deUcacy. It is pleasing to trace in this cor
respondence the gradual rise of Wilkie in the estima
tion of the prudent folks of Fife. Inquiries after him
were frequent in the pubhc places. " A coach-full
of ladies," says his father, " caUed at the Manse the
day after you left us to see your pictures, and were
much disappointed in missing you." To his mother,
too, who, with a mother's tenderness, had accom
panied him to Leith, when he set off for London,
some attention was paid on her son's account, of
which she was justly proud. " She was obliged,"
says her husband, " to Mr. Wilham Johnston of
Lathirsk, who met with her on the pier, paid her
all attention across the Forth, and sent her safe to
the Manse. I have also to inform you, that Lord
CraAvford died the other day at Rosset, in Ayrshire,
whither he had been conveyed by his dependants, to
his mother, to prevent his marriage with Miss  ,
and will be interred next week in the family burying-
ground. There has been a sad bustle to hinder his
marriage, but it is now all over. Let us know what
you are doing — how you are coming on ; and be ex
ceedingly careful of your health."
Though Wilkie had finished the Alfred and The

Mt.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 167
Rent Day, he sent neither of these fine pictures to
the Exhibition of 1808, but, reserving them for some
future occasion, trusted to The Card Players for
increase of reputation. This picture Avas painted for
the Duke of Gloucester, and is beheved to have been
suggested by him. It may be caUed a Reproof to
Rustic Gambling, for the parties are humble, and the
game is played in a room Avhich, from its looks, may
belong either to a cottage or an ale-house. Four
men of A'ery dissimilar characters are busied in the
game : one, at the head of the table, may pass for the
knoAving landlord, if the scene is a change-house, and
for a shrewd weU-fed peasant, if the scene is in a cot
tage. His night-cap, a sort of bonnet-rouge, is thrown
back on his brow ; the apron string scarce restrains
his swelhng rotundity from encroaching on the table,
while his round oUy face is radiant with joy at his suc
cess in the game, and his whole frame shakes with in
ternal merriment. The open laughter which he subdues
breaks out in a loud and gaping guffaw, as the Scotch
word it, in his partner, who, if not his son, seems
of the same make and mould, and displays the ten of
hearts, ready to lay on the other's ace, with a rustic
joy which knows no bounds. On the other side sits
an upright, demure, and grim old man, who may have
been a soldier, and, as such, endures defeat without
change of countenance, and seems by his looks re
solved to try another chance ; it is otherwise with his
partner, who, seated with his back to the foreground
of the picture, on beholding this turn of fortune, seems
uneasy over aU his body, and scratches behind his ear
mechanically, as if to arouse thought and kindle in-
m 4

• J68 THE LIFE OF 1808.
-Vention. Over the back of the chair of the laugher
leans a contemplative on-looker, who keeps his compo
sure, as though he did not observe that the game lay
in the hand into which he was looking; while, facing
the foreground, stands a young woman with a chUd in
her arms, evidently come out of an adjoining room to
see the cause of the laughter, and is looking anxiously
on the table to see how the game is going.
The merit of the picture resides in the force with
which the various characters are delineated, in the skil
ful arrangement of the group, and the vicissitudes
of fortune visible in the players. Scotland is stamped
less legibly on this than on any other of Wilkie's pre
ceding pictures. It is, in both animate and inani
mate things, essentiaUy English, and belongs more to
London than to the provinces. The colouring is
cold and clear. Though not looked upon with the
rapture Avith which The VUlage PoUticians and The
Blind Fiddler were regarded in the Exhibition, the
natural ease and the unborrowed character of the
scene made a favourable impression ; while others,
who thought it a shade below those works, said little ;
for it was generally said that his Rent Day equalled
or surpassed any picture he had hitherto painted, and
that such was the opinion of all who admired nature
and originality.*
In the folloAving letter he sets the public right re
specting the hberahty of the Duke of Gloucester.

* A sketch, with variations, of this picture, is in the possession of Mr.
Howard, R , A. A black man is introduced as an on-looker of the o-ame,
and adds much to the merit of the work. The original picture is now in
the collection of Charles Bredel, Esq.

.St. 23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. lfttyi
They had taxed him Avith parsimony, not aAvare that*.
his Royal Highness had augmented the original prices ,
from fifty to one hundred and fifty guineas.
TO THE REV. JAMES LISTER.
Since I saw you last I have finished what I Avas
then proposing to begin, the Group of Card Players,
the only picture I haA'e in the Exhibition. It was
painted for his Royal Highness the Duke of Glou
cester, who has behaAed to me in the most handsome
and liberal manner. When the comndssion was given,
the stated price was fifty guineas ; which, when the
picture was finished, his Royal Highness conceiving to
be a great deal too httle, most generously asked me
to accept of a hundred guineas in addition to the
stipulated sum.
I have now advanced another picture a great way
towards completion, the subject of which is A Sick
Lady visited by her Physician ; but as I have felt the
inconvenience of painting a picture for a particular
person, or for a stated price, I intend to keep this one
completely disengaged tUl it is finished, when I wiU
dispose of it in the way that shall be the most to my
advantage. D.W.
WUkie now felt that his works had taken a strong
hold on the pubhc taste : he heard on all sides words
of admiration and praise, and received proofs of his
country's approbation in commissions for new pic
tures, and copies of old ; while many, who were un
able to obtain these, desired to possess what artists

170 THE LIFE OF 1808.
call their first, or second, or third thoughts, and
others wrangled to get favourite groups and detached
figures. For these his prices were so moderate at aU
times, that even northern admirers were astonished at
his charges. When John Clerk, afterwards Lord El-
din, a painter as weU as a wit and a laAvyer, desired
in 1822 to place in his coUection a sketch of the
Waterloo Gazette, the artist immediately comphed
Avith his wish, and sent him a finished study of such
rare exceUence, and at a price so humble, that the
other, in shoAving it to Andrew Wilson, asked in a
tone of surprise, " What do you think your friend
asks for that picture ? You AviU guess much beyond
the sum — only fifty pounds. I am sure I am much
obliged, and have written to the admirable artist to
express my thanks."
Wilkie had hitherto entrusted his engagements and
conversations on art to a retentive memory : he now
resolved to commit them to the safer keeping of ink
and paper, and accordingly began to make a series of
memoranda, in which he not only inserted the orders
which he received for pictures, but the visits which
were made to his studies, the conversations between
himself and the most memorable of his visiters, and
the progress which he made in his works. The accu
racy of his taste in art is not more remarkable
than it appears to be in men and manners : portions
of this curious book will enliven and relieve the
monotony of my narrative.

Mt.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 171

JOURNAL.
" May 1st, 1808. — Had the honour of a call from
Lord Egremont, who gave me a connnission to paint
him a picture. Met Mr. Harlow, the portrait painter,
at dinner. — 2d, Went to the Admiralty with the pic
ture of The Rent Day ; saAV Lord and Lady Mulgrave.
Mr. Haydon came in whUe I Avas there ; went with him
to Mr. Rogers' to see his pictures — the Titian and the
Reynolds A'ery fine. Went to the Royal Academy, to
the opening of the Exhibition ; met Avith many artists ;
chned afterwards with Farrington, where I met vrith
a very agreeable party of painters. — 3d, Called on
Sir Francis Bourgeois, who informed me that the
Duke of Gloucester had resolved to give me 100
guineas for my picture, in addition to the fifty I had
already received; went afterwards with Cleghorn and
Mrs. Clarke to Brook-Green fair, where I was much
amused with the variety of characters which it ex
hibited. — 5th, Painted from 11 to 4 o'clock; had a
caU from Mr. Samuel Dobree of Walthamstow; re
ceived a note from a gentleman unknown, proposing
an amendment in my picture (The Card Players)
in the Exhibition. — 6th, Painted from 10 tiU 3,
during which time I was visited by Haydon and
Rogers ; had a call from Lord and Lady LansdoAvne,
and also from Thomas Hope. — 7th, Had a call from
Jackson ; went with him to see Loutherbourg's
picture of the Battle of Maida, which, if not in every
respect a fine work, is said to be at least a good re
presentation of a battle; came home, and painted
from 11 till 4; went to the play, and was much gra-

172 THE LIFE OF 1808.
tified by the representation of the Fashionable Lovers
of Cumberland. — 8th, Had Jackson and Haydon to
breakfast; went Avith the latter to church, where we
had a charity sermon from Sydney Smith; returned,
and was honoured by a call from Lord Mulgrave and
Captain Morison; dined with Haydon at the Nassau
Coffee-house. — 9th, Painted from 10 tiU 4 (at The
Jew's Harp). — 10th, Went to breakfast with Mr.
Stodart of Golden Square; accompanied Seguier to
the Admiralty to varnish the picture of The Rent
Day ; met Lord Mulgrave, and accompanied his Lord
ship and Seguier to Christie's to see some pictures ; came
home and painted from 1 tUl 3^, in which time I
finished the little dog in my picture of The Jew's
Harp. A letter came from a Mr. Stewart requesting me
to take him as a pupU and companion into my house. —
11th, Called on Mr. Wells, to return to him the Os-
tade he lent me ; looked at some new pictures he has
lately got; called on Mulready on my way home.
Painted from 1 tUl after 4, in which time I almost
finished the drawers, in my picture of The Sick Lady.
Had a caU from the Marquis and Marchioness of
Lansdowne and one of their daughters; invited to
dine at Lansdowne House on Monday  1 1th, Dined at
Charles's, and, with Haydon, caUed on Leigh Hunt. 
12th, Had a call from Mr. Uvedale Price, and answered
Roberts' letter ; painted from 10 till 4 ; took home
Ridley Colborne's Ostade and Teniers. — 13th, Had a
call from J. Stewart and Mr. Annesley, who reminded
me of my promise to paint him a picture; went after
wards to the Exhibition. Mem. That my picture
there wants a much stronger light on the principal

,Et.23. SIR DAVID WILKIN. 173
group. — 15th, Went to church, where I met Haydon;
home, and found Andrew Wilson, who accompanied
me on my way to Clapton, to caU on Samuel Dobree,
Avho receiA'ed me A'ery kindly, and introduced me to
his family. Saw his pictures ; dined with him ; and,
after spending a A'ery pleasant evening, came away at
seven, and Avas accompanied by him and one of his
sons for two nules on my Avay home. He gave me a
catalogue of the first year's Exhibition of the Royal
Academy, which I shaU keep as a great curiosity 
16th, Painted from 11 tUl 1. Dined at Lord Lans-
doAvne's, where I met Peter Coxe and Mr. Bowles;
went at 9 to Mr. Neate's musical party, where I heard
some of Haydn's music performed in a fine style on
the violin. — 17th, Had a caU from Jackson; painted
from 11 tiU 4. CaUed on Mr. Haydon, and saw his
picture; thought the head he had done too large in
proportion. Had a note from John CampbeU, re
questing me to paint his father's portrait, who is at
present in town. — 18th, Had a caU from Haydon and
Jackson; painted on the picture of The Sick Lady
from 10 tUl 4. Glazed a Uttle in the back-ground,
and finished the old lady's gown. Constable came,
and stood for his portrait till 10 o'clock. — 19th, Met
Mr. Annesley at the British Museum, and was much
gratified by the sight of the ToAvnley Statues. Went
to Turner's gaUery, and admired some of his pictures
very much. — 20th, Called at Mr. Hope's ; got a ticket of
admission to his house, which I left at Mr. Stodart's.
Painted from 11 tUl 4. Had a call from Dr. Camp
bell of Cupar; engaged him to come on Monday,
when I propose to make a sketch of his head. Had

174 THE LIFE OF 1808.
a call from the Marquis and Marchioness of Lans
downe and two of their daughters; was requested
to paint a portrait in whole length of the Marchioness ;
told his Lordship I would consider about it. Had
Newton, Jackson, and Constable at tea and supper. —
21st, Went to Sir George Beaumont's; saw Lady
Beaumont and Sir George; was inAited to dine Avith
them on Tuesday next. Went to Haydon's to take
him to Angerstein's ; was detained by him a whole
hour in dressing ; was delighted Avith that select and
choice coUection. Called Avith NeAvton on Sir WUUam
Beechey ; we were detained by him for some time ;
orpiment at present his favourite colour; came home,
and found an invitation to dine with Lord Mulgrave
on Monday ; spent the evening in reading and writ
ing. — 22d, Went with Haydon to church, and heard
a most delightful sermon from Sydney Smith ; caUed
on Hoppner, and saw several of the famUy ; caUed on
Fuseli, and was kindly received by him; went back
to dine with Hoppner, but had not the pleasure of
his company. — 23d, Took a walk before breakfast;
had a caU from Dr. Campbell, and began a sketch of
his head. Painted from 1 till 4, and finished the
table in my picture of The Sick Lady ; dressed at 5,
and went Avith Haydon and Seguier to dinner Avith-
Lord Mulgrave ; met there General Phipps ; saw the
pictures which his Lordship had lately bought ; they
are very fine  24th, Went to Squibbs to see some
pictures on view for sale by Peter Coxe ; saw Lord
Mulgrave there. Home, and painted from 12 till
4; finished the table and the green cloth in The Sick
Lady ; went to Sir George Beaumont's to dinner ;

iET.23. SIR DAVID AVILRU:. 175
met there General Phipps, Coleridge, and Dr. Bell 
25th, Took a Avalk before breakfast ; painted from
10 tUl 1 ; Dr. Campbell sat for his portrait one hour.
Went with Nevrton to Hope's collection and the Staf
ford GaUery. — 26th, Painted from 10 till 4. Went
Avith MarshaU to Sadler's WeUs, where Ave Avere much
amused with a pantomime, in Avhich Grimaldi played
the cloAvn. — 27th, Painted from 10 tUl 4, in which
time I had a caU from Miss Stodart, requesting me
to be of their party on Monday to go to Hope's gal
lery. Had a letter from Mr. Chalmers authorising
me to dispose of the copyright of his works. Painted
to-day for six hours, and finished a large portion of the
carpet in my picture of The Sick Lady. — 28th, Dr.
CampbeU sat two hours for his portrait ; painted Avith
but Uttle interruption at my picture from 1 tUl 4 ;
got a good way on Avith the carpet. — 29th, Had
Geddes and Haydon to breakfast with me ; went with
Haydon and caUed on Sir WiUiam Beechey, Mr.
Edridge, and Mr. Hoppner. Met Mrs. Stodart and
her famUy in Kensington Gardens, and accompanied
them home to Brompton. — 30th, Had a call from
Jackson ; painted from 10 to 12 ; went to Hope's
gaUery with Mrs. Stodart and her two daughters;
went with them also to see Loutherbourg's picture,
and to West's GaUery, Avhere Ave met Mr. Annesley;
a number of friends in the evening and a dance. —
31st, Stood Avith Seguier two hours looking at Lord
Radstock's pictures ; wrote a letter to Mr. Chalmers,
also a letter to my friend Graham in Edinburgh."
These passages hft him out a little from the life of

176 THE LIFE OF 1808.
the artist in London — an hour's stroU in the morn
ing, to breathe the fresh air and seek for health ;
once or tAvice a month a dinner or two at the tables
of noblemen or gentlemen who love painting, and pa
tronise its professors ; a visit now and then to the
principal gaUeries of pictures, to see, perhaps, how the
chiefs of the caUing have acquitted themselves, or to
point out their merits to the friends who accompany
him ; and five hours a day bestowed on professional
labour, during which time the mind is on the stretch
to infuse becoming thought; the eye on the watch to
see that the colour is natural and the character true,
and the hand steadying itself to execute those artless
yet studied strokes and touches which are looked for
from eminent masters: — so passes time with him, in
London ; and it is much the same every where. Hay
don and Jackson, it AviU have been observed, were at
this time the chief companions of WUkie among the
artists ; the Marquis of Lansdowne, the Earl of Mul
grave, and Sir George Beaumont, his principal patrons
among the titled, whUe of men of distinction in liter
ature the since celebrated Dr. Chalmers was his
correspondent. Before I lay all the pages of another
month of the Journal before my readers, the list of
eminent men will be extended.
Journal — continued.
" June 1st, Painted from 10 tUl 3, on the back
ground of my picture of The Sick Lady. — 2d, Painted
from 10 till 3 ; glazed some parts of my picture ; had
a call from Sir George and Lady Beaumont, Lord

^Et.23. SIR DAVID WILKIK. 177
Mulgrave, and the Hon. Mr. Phipps; went to a rout
at Mrs. BaiUie's, where I met several friends. — 3d,
Painted from 10 tiU 4. — 8th, Called on Mr. Murray
in Fleet Street, who promised to give me an answer
respecting Mr. Chalmers' book in a day or two ; dined
at Sir George Beaumont's, where I met Coleridge
the poet. — 9th, Painted from 10 till 4; had a call
from Mr. West and from Mr. Jackson, also from Lord
and Lady LansdoAvne and one of their daughters;
Lady L. seemed A'ery anxious to have the picture of
The Sick Lady; they invited me to come doAvn to
them at Southampton in the summer ; dined at
Dr. BaiUie's, where I met with the Miss BaiUies, Mr.
and Mre. Coxe, and Dr. Warren. — 10th, Went with
Haydon to Lord Grosvenor's gaUery ; was much
pleased with the pictures and the house ; came
home, and painted for an hour ; had a call from
Lord and Lady Spencer; went to Andrew Robert
son, and sat an hour for my portrait ; returned home
and went to Hoppner's, where there was a very plea
sant dance ; came away at three in the morning. —
11th, Painted from 11 tiU2 ; hadacaUfrom Newton,
and dined at Charles's with Haydon, and was much
pleased with a revieAV which he showed me of his first
picture. — 12th, Went Avith Jackson to breakfast Avith
Liston, who introduced me to Mr. and Mrs. Pope. —
13th, Had a walk before breakfast; painted from 10
tiU 4. — 14th, Had a walk before breakfast ; painted
from 10 till 4 ; had a caU from Mr. Mundy, member
of parhament for Derbyshire, who gave me a com
mission for a picture ; had a walk with Mr. and Mrs.
Jackson. — 15th, Painted from 10 till 4; had a call
VOL. I. N

178 THE LIFE OF 1808.
from Robert Gourlay, of Bath, on his way to Scotland,
and accompanied Constable to the Exhibition of the
Royal Academy. — 16th, Painted from 10 tiU 2 ; went
over some of the back-ground of my picture ; had a
letter from Captain Drummond, secretary to the
Thistle Club, informing me that I was elected a mem
ber at last meeting ; caUed at Mr. Murray's, and
found that he had made no offer for Mr. Chalmers's
work ; went to Matthew Stodart's to supper. — 17th,
Painted from 10 till 4. Had a call from Meyer, who
said he was wiUing to engrave the portrait of Lady
Mary Fitzgerald for forty-one guineas at full length,
and for twenty-five at half length. Sat for my por
trait at Robertson's tiU 8 o'clock. — 18th, Went to
MiUer's, who told me he would look at Chalmers's
work, and give me his advice about the proper mode
of proceeding Avith it. Painted from 10 tiU 4 ; had a
call from Mulready, and afterwards from Lord Mul
grave ; his Lordship said he should have no objection
to Meyer's engraving the portrait of Lady Mary Fitz
gerald, but that it was more to gratify her friends than
himself that he Avished it done ; he had no doubt that
the plate Avould sell generally. Went to the Hay-
market Theatre, and was much gratified with the
acting of Liston and Mathews, in Colman's Heir-at-
Law. — 19th, Hoppner and Haydon came to break
fast ; went to church with them ; saw Mrs. Opie
there. Went with Mr. Bowles to Lord Elgin's,
where I saw Sir George and Lady Beaumont. Dined
at John O'Groat's with Haydon; went home with
him, and were joined by Howard, Constable, and
Hoppner — 20th, Painted from 10 tiU 4; had a

-Et. 23. SIE DAVID WILKIK. 179
call from Dr. Playfair ; also from Gcddes and Burnet ;
met Constable; went to the Royal Academy, and
brought away my picture of The Card Players.— 21st,
caUed on Sir F. Bourgeois, and afterwards at Mr.
Reinagle's. Came home and dressed ; Sir Francis's
carriage called for me and the picture of The Card
Players, and after taking Sir Francis up at his own
house, conveyed us to the Duke of Gloucester's,
where, after waiting some time, I had the pleasure
of seeing his Royal Highness, and of being paid the
hundred guineas which he had promised me in addi
tion to the stipulated price of the picture. Went
with Sir Francis to Mr. Squibb's, and saw some very
fine suits of armour, a number of pictures, swords,
and articles of furniture. Home, and had a caU from
Sir George Beaumont, who asked me to come and see
him at his seat in the country in the autumn 
22d. Had a sitter during two hours for the morning
gOAvn in the picture of The Sick Lady, and finished it.
Burnet and Geddes to supper. — 23d, To MiUer's after
breakfast ; but got httle encouragement for Chalmers's
work. Painted from 12 to 5 ; put in a piece of
drapery at the table on the right-hand side of my
picture. Had a caU from Sir George and Lady
Beaumont, and an invitation to dine Avith them in the
evening ; met there Lord and Lady Mulgrave. Had
a note from Dr. Thomson, inviting me to go with him
into Kent on Wednesday or Thursday. — 24th, Called
on Stothard, the academician, and saw several of his
pictures. Came home, and painted from 12 till 4 ;
and finished the hat and table on the right-hand side of
my picture; took a walk Avith Constable. — 25th, Went
n 2

180 THE LIFE OF 1808.
to Haydon's, and sat to him for one of the hands in
his picture for nearly two hours. Went to Longman
and Rees, and proposed that they should purchase the
copyright of Chalmers' work ; was told by them that
tiU it was noticed by the reviews there was httle
chance of the book seUing. Went to the Haymarket
Theatre ; saw Mathews act Sir Fretful Plagiary, Avith
which I was highly dehghted. — 26th, Howard and
Haydon came to breakfast Avith me. CaUed on Mrs.
Opie ; conversed Avith her ; she said she had lately
pubhshed some works, which I intend to buy. Came
home, and wrote part of a letter to Chalmers. Went
with my brother and Haydon to dine at John
O'Groat's, and met Geddes and Burnet. CaUed on
Meyer, and was told by a servant from the window
that he was not at home. — 27th, Had a walk before
breakfast ; painted from 10 tUl 4 at a number of Uttle
places in my picture, which has almost finished it.
Wrote to Chalmers, to tell him of my bad success with
his work; had a call from Jackson. — 28th, Accom
panied Dr. Thomson into the country ; went through
Greenvdch, over Blackheath, and halted at Shooter's
HiU; walked to the Telegraph, and to a tower built
by an officer of the name of James, in commemor
ation of some event in India. Went to Cobham,
Dr. Thomson's residence, where we dined Avith some
young ladies. — 29th, After breakfast, Dr. Thomson
was so kind as to take me to Lord Darnley's, at Cob
ham HaU, where I admired the splendour of the
house and the richness of the picture gaUery; saw a
picture of Titian by himself — very fine ; a large
picture by Rubens, vrith many figures, and the Samuel

.Et.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 181
of Sir Joshua Reynolds, which certainly kept its
place, notwithstanding the fame of its competitors.
SaAV Lord and Lady Darnley, to whom I had been
formerly introduced ; dined, and took a Avalk in the
evening with the young ladies. — 30th, Accompanied
Miss Thomson to the top of a neighbouring hill;
returned, and dined; had a game at trap and ball,
and shot at a mark Avith bows and arrows ; Miss
Thomson brought me the present of a box full of
colours from Mrs. Muskett, a great amateur in the
art of painting.
kiJuly 1st, Went to look at the fortifications on the
hill to the south of Chatham; on our way to Rochester
we went over the celebrated Gad's HUl of Shakspeare.
— 2d. Put my painting materials in order, and set to
work on a sketch of Dr. Thomson, which occupied
me tUl one o'clock. — 3d, Went to church, and had
the pleasure of hearing performed, in the middle of
the service, Handel's Te Deum, which had a very
grand effect ; had an exceUent sermon from Dr.
Thomson. — 4th, Began in the morning to make a
sketch of Miss Thomson ; and after breakfast began
a sketch of Mrs. Thomson, on the same board with
the Doctor, and finished them both before dinner
time; had a dance after supper. — 5th, Finished the
sketch of Miss Thomson at 1 o'clock ; went after
wards and looked at the church, to see if it was a
fit subject for a sketch ; it failed to satisfy me ; I liked
a neighbouring cottage better, and fixed upon taking
an inside Aiew of it, and began to make a sketch of
it after dinner; Avalked with the young ladies, and
heard some of Handel's music after supper. — 6th,

182 THE LIFE OF 1808.
Resumed my labours on the interior of the cot
tage after breakfast, and wrought from 10 till 3,
during which time I was visited by all the family in
succession. On finishing the sketch, I came home to
dinner ; then with the young ladies to a hiU top in
the neighbourhood — a pleasant walk. — 7th, Parted
with this very dehghtful family with some reluctance.
I got home to my lodgings the same evening, and
found that very few people had called for me during
my absence. — 8th, CaUed on Haydon, and found him
recovering from a fever of which he had faUen iU in
my absence. Homeward, and began glazing at my
picture ; I kept altering and glazing at various parts
of my picture tiU 4 o'clock. Had a call from Mr.
Creighton, of the Fife Militia, on his Avay to Scotland.
Went with him to Sadler's Wells, where we saw a
new pantomime. Stopped on our way back at Bag-
nigge Wells, where we saw Jews and Jewesses
dancing to the tune ofthe Fairy Dance. — 10th, CaUed
at Charles BeU's and at Robertson's. — 11th, Haydon
breakfasted Avith me, and made some remarks on my
picture. Painted from 11 tUl 2. Had a caU from
A. CarUsle, Avho made some critical observations on
the work. Sent a recommendation from Lord Mul
grave to the Committee of the British GaUery for a
ticket of admission. Met Mr. and Mrs. Dance, with
Avhom I was much pleased. — 12th, Painted from 10
tiU 4, and made several alterations in my picture of
The Sick Lady. Read in the papers the good news
from Spain. Seguier called and made A'arious ob
servations on my picture. He varnished for me The
ViUage Politicians and the sketch of Miss Phipps 

JSt.23. SIR DAA^D AVILK1E. 1K3
13th, Had a caU from Mr. Goldsmith; painted and
made some alterations in my picture ; then Avent to
Lord Stafford's ; met there Seguier and Haydon, and
had some talk about the merits of the pictures. Dined
afterwards Avith Mr. Goldsmith, where I met CaUcott,
and spent a A'ery pleasant evening  14th, Painted
from 10 tUl 4. Had the measure taken of my picture
for a frame ; and a letter came from my father, in
which he mentions the attentions he had received
from Lady Crawford. Made some alterations in my
picture. Went to the Royal Academy, where I found
the living figure sitting, and Robertson, Constable,
and others, painting from her. — 15th, Painted from
12 tUl 4. Had a caU from Burnet, Avith whom I con
sulted about the picture for his engraving. Went to
the Academy, and began from the hving model on a
piece of milled board. — 16th, Painted from 10 tiU 3,
in which I put the bird-cage into the corner of the
picture of The Sick Lady, Avith a cloth over it, as if
to prevent the bird from disturbing her Avith its song.
Went to the Royal Academy, and did a good deal to
the sketch from the hfe model. — 17th, Sat to Robert
son for an hour before breakfast for my picture ; had
a caU from a Mr. L., who disgusted me by his fulsome
flattery; sat again for my picture to Mr. Robertson 
18th, Painted from 10 till 3, and finished my picture
of The Sick Lady, which has occupied me altogether
about four months. Went to the Royal Academy,
and completed my sketch from the female model.
— 19th, CaUed at the Admiralty, and found that
Lord Mulgrave had gone from home ; caUed on
Burnet ; went to the Royal Academy, and began a neAv
n 4

184 THE LIFE OF 1808.
drawing from Sam Strowager*, and laid it aU in;
Jackson came home Avith me, and sat some time. —
20th, Began the sketch of my picture of The Jew's
Harp, which I almost finished by 4 o'clock : went to
the Thistle Club, where I met Carstairs, and other
members, and spent a pleasant evening. — 21st, Had a
walk before breakfast : painted from 1 1 tiU 3 : was
principally employed making some amendments in
the picture of The Sick Lady, which I think have
improved it. Went to the Academy, where I con
tinued painting from the naked figure tiU 7 o'clock.
Off to Haydon's, whom I was lucky enough to find
at home: had a note requesting me to send Lord
Mansfield's picture home as soon as com^enient. —
22d, Walk before breakfast, painted a little in the fore
part of the day : to the Admiralty, and saw Lord and
Lady Mulgrave, and showed them a smaU sketch of
the picture I had begun, which they seemed to Uke.
Went to the Royal Academy, and came home Avith
Constable, and — 23d, Walked before breakfast; then
began the picture of The Jew's Harp. Had a caU
from Haydon, and Burnet, and Newton. Went with
my picture in a coach to Lord Mansfield's ; Burnet
accompanied me. Called on Reinagle on my way
home, who made me a present of some French
brushes; home, and painted on The Jew's Harp tiU I
had it aU in, and then went to the Royal Academy. —
24th, Wrote to my father; had a call from Jackson;
also from Reinagle to see my picture. Took a Avalk
to see Bacon's statue of King William in St. James's
* The man model at the Academy. I am not sure that Wilkie spells
his name correctly.

JEt.23. SIR DAATD AVILK1E. 185
Square. — 25th, CaUed at Flaxman's, but did not find
him at home; painted from 11 till 3; Avent over
some part of the physician's head in The Sick Lady,
and drew a hand for my next picture. Went to the
Academy, and finished my draAving from Sam StroAv-
ager. — 26th, Painted from 10 tiU 3; did a little to the
physician's head ; and put in the hand of the man
playing on the Jew's Harp, in the picture I have
begun. Had a caU hi the middle of the day from
Mr. CaUcott, who sat with me for some time. Went
to dine at M's., where I met ten people I knew
nothmg of, which made the entertainment very un
pleasant to me. — 27th, Went out to buy a JeAv's
harp ; on returning met Raimbach the engraver, who
came to see the picture I had begun. Went to the
Royal Academy, and began a study from the figure.
— 28th, Painted from 10 tiU 3 ; did a good deal to the
man playing on the Jew's harp. Had a note from
Mr. Clarke asking me to meet Flaxman at his house
to-morrow evening. Went to the Royal Academy,
and Avrought on the figure I had begun last night;
accompanied Jackson to the CouncU Room, where I
was much gratified with the pictures of Sir Joshua
Reynolds, particularly Avith the portrait of himself. —
29th, Met in my morning's walk with Turnerelli, a
sculptor, who invited me to caU upon him. Painted
from 10 tUl 3; put in the hand of the boy in my
picture ; went in the evening to Mr. Clarke's, where
I had the pleasure of meeting Flaxman  30th, On
my Avay back from Liston's I saAV a dog, Avhich being
suitable for my picture, I agreed with the man to
whom it belonged to send it to me with a person to

186 THE LIFE OF 1808.
sit — which he did, and I was lucky enough to pencU
it in in an hour : this, with the sleeve of the boy, was
aU I got done to-day in The Jew's Harp. — 31st,
Hoppner and Constable came to breakfast : I went to
church, and heard a very good sermon.
" Aug. 1st, Pamted from 11 tUl 3 ; had a caU from
John Campbell ; afterwards went to the Academy. —
2d, Went to Robertson's to breakfast ; sat to him a
considerable time for my miniature ; to the Academy,
where I proceeded Avith my study, and afterwards ac
companied Jackson, Constable, and Seguier to the
Haymarket Theatre. — 3d, Found myself too indis
posed to go to Robertson as I promised; painted a
little, and continued at home ; to amuse myself, began
to make a blot of The PubUc House Door, the subject
I intend to paint next ; took a walk, and went early
to bed. — 4th, Was rather better ; painted the usual
time ; Jackson caUed ; I walked out Avith the intention
of going to the Academy, this being the first night
of the figure, but found myself too weak for the
attempt, and was obhged to return; began to paint
again at the sketch I had begun last night. — 5th,
Much better to-day; began to paint at 11 and con
tinued to 4 ; had a caU from Mr. Repton, who made
some just observations on my picture ; painted a Uttle
between 6 and 7, when Jackson caUed, when we had
a walk together. — 6th, Painted from breakfast-time
till 5 o'clock, and put some things into the back
ground of my picture of The JeAv's Harp. Took a
walk, and when I returned found that Jackson had
called, and left me the sketch of Sir Joshua's portrait
of himself, which I have learned much from. — 7th,

,£t.23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 187
Jackson came to breakfast, and avc proposed a num
ber of alterations in both of my pictures ; Ave Avent
and caUed on Northcote, avIio came to us after avc had
remained a long AA'hUe in his draAving-room. — 8th,
Walked before breakfast ; painted from 10 tUl 4, and
finished seAeral parts of my httle picture of The
Jew's Harp: went with Jackson to the Haymarket
Theatre to see Colman's new piece of the Africans,
Avith which I was much pleased, but think the story
too Aiolent to interest the Avorld long. — 9th, Was
surprised by a caU from Haydon, whom I beheved to
be at Dover; I had also a caU from Lord Mulgrave.
Painted from 11 tiU 4 on some of the subordinate
parts of The Jew's Harp ; went to the Academy, ex
pecting a new figure in the hfe — not tUl the 11th.
A card of invitation came from Lord Mulgrave,
asking me to dinner on Thursday. — 10th, Was in
vited by Dr. Pitcairn to spend a few days AAith him in
Kent ; went to the Academy, where I saw Sir Francis
Bourgeois ; returned with Constable and caUed at
Haydon's, but did not find him at home. — 11th,
Went to breakfast Avith Robertson, who began
another portrait of me on a larger scale in the Scottish
dress. Returned, and began some alterations in my
picture of The Sick Lady. Dressed, and dined at the
Admiralty ; and, after spending a very pleasant even
ing with Lord and Lady Mulgrave, came away with
Haydon. — 12th, Had a Avalk before breakfast ; painted
tiU 3, and made some alterations in my picture of the
Sick Lady. — 13th, Sat with Robertson for my mi
niature from 9 tUl 2 ; accompanied Constable to the
Academy ; Avent on Avith my figure, and finished the

188 . THE LIFE OF 1808.
hand. Haydon caUed me out to teU me that Seguier
desired my company at breakfast to-morrow morning.
— 14th, Went Avith Jackson to breakfast at Seguier's,
where we found Haydon ; we all repaired to Robertson's,
where I sat from 11 tUl 2 for my portrait. — 15th, Went
to Robertson's, and sat for my picture ; during which
time Coxe came in, and would not speak to me, be
cause I had not dined with him yesterday : he began,
however, to change his mind, and we became quite
friendly by the time we parted. Came home, and
began to paint on my picture of The Sick Lady. Had
a call from Burnet, with whom I came to an agree
ment respecting the engraving of my picture of The
Jew's Harp. Went to Haydon's in the evening,
where I met Leigh Hunt, with whom I spent a plea
sant evening. — 16th, Had a walk before breakfast;
began to paint at 10 and continued tUl 2, and then
Avent out Avith Jackson, and called on Constable, who
came home Avith me to supper. — 17th, Began, after
my morning walk, to paint, and continued tui 2. Had
caUs from Thomas Hope, Ridley Colborne, and Dr.
Pitcairn. Consented to go Avith the latter, at 2 o'clock
to-morrow, to his house in Kent. Went to the
Academy ; called with Constable at Seguier's ; thence
to Coventry Street, to buy a portmanteau for my
visit. — 18th, Altered the right hand of the man
playing on the Jew's liarp : then in a coach to Dr.
Pitcairn's, with whom I enjoyed a pleasant drive to
Dartford: walked in his grounds, and enjoyed the
place and people much. — 19th, Dr. Pitcairn took me
through Dartford, to the seat of Lord Audley on the
banks of the Thames : the house had many pictures ;

-351.23. SIR DAVID WILK1K. 189
those by Rubens, Teniers, Paul Veronese, and Murillo
reaUy surprised me : Ave staid more than an hour,
during Avhich time I made some shght sketches, as
memorandums for the picture. — 20th, Called on Sir
John Dyke, and saw some old family pictures, and
Aisited the chapel, Avhich is one of the finest country
churches I OA'er saw. — 2 2d, Yesterday I Avent to
church ; and to-day sketched some old trees and the
house. — 23d, Made a sketch of some of the out
houses; went to Stone, and saw the church, a fine
piece of Gothic work. Returned through Dartford-
Brent, where the people were aU met to play a game
of cricket ; dined Avith about seventy of the players
and on-lookers in a large tent ; then set off for London,
and reached my lodgings in the evening."

190 THE LIFE OF 1808.

CHAPTER VII.
WILKIE AT SOUTHAMPTON AVITH LORD AND LADY LANSDOAVNE. —
EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL.  PAINTS " THE SICK LADT," " THE
JEW'S HARP," AND " THE CUT FINGER."  JOURNAL CONTINUED.
 ROYAL ACADEMY EXHIBITION OF 1809.
Wilkes painted in general five hours each day ;
made many changes in his pictures ; received Avith
deference the counsel of his brethren, of whom Haydon
and Jackson were the chief; and made, bit by bit,
approaches to excellence in those finer sensibihties
of expression, of which his picture of The Sick Lady is
an example. During aU this period he studied in the
Academy with the diligence of an unpractised stu
dent, was punctual in his attendance, and, it is said,
was often reproached by the more quicksilvery of his
comrades for turning elegant pleasure into toil and
drudgery. To these unwise counseUors he replied
with a smile or a shrug, or a pithy Scotch saying, of
which he had good store, and continued to study on,
adding, as he observed, something every day to his
stock of knowledge, and amassing inteUigence for
future use. He turned every thing to account in
nature : a pecuhar turn of the head ; a particular mo
tion of the body ; a face in which he beheld something
nationaUy true either in beauty or expression, were
treasured in his memory or his sketch-book ; and I have
heard him say, that he never saw a dog basking itself

.Et. 23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. ] J) I
in the sun at a cottage door, but he saw at the same
time its mistress or its master resting themselves
witlun in the same manner. While other artists con
tented themseh-es Avith studAing their art through
pictures, and rejoiced to think they had imitated Avith
success the brUliant colouring of Reynolds, or caught
a httle of the graceful grandeur of Raphael, Wilkie,
without neglecting the dead, loved rather to seek for
something new in the hYing. He regarded nature
as a vast academy, and the varied forms with which it
was peopled as figures Avith whom he had to form new
combinations and awaken new sensibilities. Having,
after his return from his httle excursion into Kent,
finished the picture of The Sick Lady to his mind,
bestowed several long sittings on Andrew Robertson
for his two miniatures, of which the one in a broad
blue bonnet is the best, and arranged with Burnet
for the engraving of The Jew's Harp, he prepared for
his visit to the Marquis of LansdoAvne at South
ampton. It avUI be remembered that the late Marquis shared
in some of the fine taste of his half-brother, the present
Lord LansdoAvne ; nor can it be forgotten that he
was odd, though stately, in his manners — that he de
serted the beautiful Bowood, fitted up a whimsical
residence in the old crumbling castle of Southampton,
and maintained a sort of eccentric elegance, in which
he imagined that he reAived the splendour of the old
Saxon and Danish sea kings, who had dwelt there of
old. There was much in this to please the politest
fancy; the walls of the castle were washed by the
tide ; the Avindows looked upon that fine sheet of

192 THE LIFE OF 1808.
water which lies so calm between the coast of Hamp
shire and the beautiful Isle of Wight ; and when the
Marquis, in a moonlight evening, spread the saU of
his splendid yacht, and with his lady and train moved
into the bosom of the bay, he had not much to do to
imagine himself an earl in the train of RoUo or of
Hastings. Be that as it may, he desired to possess
the picture of The Sick Lady, something in which
reminded him of a circumstance in his OAvn history ;
and also Avished to have a portrait of his lady from the
same hand ; and to afford WUkie full time for the lat
ter, he was invited to the hospitalities of the castle of
Southampton. WUkie's visit and his doings there are
recorded by his oaati pen. Journal.
" September 1st, Started in the coach from the
White Horse Cellar at 5 in the morning ; breakfasted
in an inn beyond Hounslow Heath ; dined at Win
chester ; reached Southampton at 6 o'clock, and put up
at the Star Inn. In upwards of seventy miles of road
I met Avith no incidents, and saw little cultivated
country. Winchester is a respectable looking town,
Avith a college and a cathedral : the appearance is ve
nerable. — 2d, Had breakfast and walked to the Castle,
and saw Lord and Lady Lansdowne ; found Chalon
there, who was painting some of the family, and was
introduced to him for the first time ; thought him a
good sort of man, and hkely to be an agreeable com
panion. The Marchioness was however engaged, and
could not sit then ; I began the sketch, however,

Mt.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 193
which occupied me the whole day. Returned to the
Star Inn, where I resoh'ed to remain during my stay ;
dressed at 6, and went to the Castle to dinner, where
I met a Mr. Stewart, a Scotchman : Avent Avith Lord
LansdoAvne and family to the play, and saAV Mr. and
Mrs. Charles Kemble in a A'ery pleasing little piece,
AA'hich amused us greatly. — 3d, After breakfast caUed
on Chalon, and accompanied him to the Castle, where
we began to paint, and had the good fortune to obtain
a sitting of Lady Lansdowne for more than two hours,
during which time some of her visiters were admitted.
Continued painting tUl 5 ; being asked to dine at the
Castle, dressed at the inn and returned ; found at table
a stranger^ a learned man, and wiUing to display his
knowledge — he was very amusing. Went to the
drawing-room, and began looking over Flaxman's de
signs. — 4th, Chalon caUed, and went Avith me to the
Castle ; we afterwards crossed the ferry ; met a gen
tleman, who told us of a great victory gained over the
French by Sir A. Wellesley ; walked to Netley Abbey,
a noble ruin. Returned at 4 to the inn, and found an
invitation to dine at the Castle ; went at 6, and saw the
lord and lady arrive from a pleasure sail ; dined,
and remained late, aUured by music. — 5th, Prepared
for commencing the portrait ; Chalon arrived, and
we sent up word to her ladyship requesting her to
come doAvn : about 1 o'clock she came and sat tiU
5, during which time I wrought at the portrait,
and she amused us with anecdotes ; but I found her
talking did not help me on Avith the picture, and I
did not succeed so weU Avith the head as I hoped. I
returned to the Star and dressed, then back to the
vol. i. o

194 THE LIFE OF

1808.

Castle to dinner ; then up to the draAving-room with
Chalon, where we spent an agreeable hour with her
ladyship and daughters. — 6th, Had a walk in the
morning along the beach ; then went to the Castle,
prepared my materials, and sent up to her ladyship
requesting her attendance : she came at once, and was
so kind as to sit for three hours, in which time I went
completely over the face and made it better. After
dinner went to the draAving-room, and had an account
from her ladyship of aU she had seen in Paris :• we
began drawing sketches and caricatures of the young
ladies  7th, Went to the Castle; her ladyship came
doAvn, and as she was dressed I began to paint the
neck and breast which I finished by 2 o'clock.
WhUe at dinner in the Castle a letter came from my
brother, brought by his servant: wrote requesting
him to come and see me at Southampton. — 8th, To
the Castle, and painted in Lady Lansdowne's right
hand and finished the bonnet, though interrupted by
several visiters. Returned to the Star, where a note
came from the Marchioness saying she was sorry
there was too little room to accommodate me at din
ner to-day, but she hoped to see me in the evening :
went accordingly : saw a good deal of company and
had a dance. — 9th, Began to paint at eleven and
continued tUl half -past four : put in the hand of the
boy and the coffee equipage which he holds. I also
sketched a Avindow in the background instead of the
door : while employed I had occasional visits from the
famUy and the visiters. Was invited to dinner. —
10th, Took a morning walk: went to the Castle and
began to paint; put in the coffee-pot in the back-

Mt.23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 1 95
ground and some of the jeAvels in the lady's dress 
11th, Had a walk before breakfast: after breakfast,
to my surprise, my brother came into the room : he
had just arrived from Portsmouth : avc took a long
walk together. Returned and found an invitation to
dine at the Castle ; answered that m)- brother had come
to see me, and begged to be excused. — 12th, Took
my brother to the Castle to show him the picture of
the Marchioness ; returned Avith him to the Star, and
saw him off for Portsmouth. The Marchioness, when
I came back, sat for an hour, and I put in the hand
holding the cup ; and after she was gone I painted
the Aelvet gOAvn, which I aU but finished by 5
o'clock. A Aiolent storm of thunder and hghtning
and rain came on in the eA'ening whUe we were in the
draAving-room. — 13th, Went to the Castle and began
to paint ; was interrupted by two gentlemen whom
Lord LansdoAvne brought into the room, one of them
was the Marquis of Worcester. When they were
gone I painted the coffee-cup, and put in the lace
cloak ; both looked tolerably weU, and I expect to be
able to finish aU that is necessary for me to do here
to-morrow, so that on Thursday I may be at liberty
to set off for Portsmouth. — 14th, Went to the Castle
— prepared my colours and went up stairs to paint
the window with its stained glass. Having done this
I began to pack up my painting matters for departure,
and contrived, with a carpenter's help, to secure the
wet picture from the touch of its case. Showed Lord
LansdoAvne the picture, who told me he would pay
me for the portrait of the Marchioness and The Sick
Lady after the 1st of January on his return from
o 2

196 THE LIFE OF

1808.

Spain. The Marchioness inquired the price of each.
I told her 50 guineas for the portrait and 150 for the
picture. Dined in the Castle : took leave of the Mar
chioness, the young ladies, and the Marquis : returned
to the Star, settled my bUl, and resolved to set off for
Portsmouth in the morning."
The conduct of the eccentric Lord of Southampton
Castle seems not at aU eccentric in these modest re
cords of the great artist : the noble lord and his lady
lived, it is true, in a romantic place; but, save in
having forsaken Bowood, and displayed their banner
in this old worm-eaten hold, their way of life seems to
have been pohte and hospitable — nay, elegant. They
loved the old associations of the spot and the mari
time excursions which it afforded; and they are stiU
remembered Avith respect by the people of Southampton.
Wilkie visited Portsea, and was mechanic enough to
feel astonished with the magnificence of the docks and
the wonderful block machinery of the ingenious Bru
nei. He dined with his brother and the officers of the
mess, and dishke'd their conversation, which was aU of
a martial character ; nor did he think it improved by
the admission of some naval officers, who gave it a
maritime turn. He escaped from this, and sought
refuge in the Isle of Wight : visited Ryde and New
port and Cowes, but neglected to look at Undercliff,
the most romantic portion of that fine isle, or to visit
the coUection of pictures at Appledurcombe. He
found, however, at his friend Mackenzie's, pictures
from the hand of Rembrandt and Terburg, which he
said he " admired much ; " and at Ryde he happened

2ET.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 197
to meet Avith the Hoppners, and heard too that
Beechey was residing in that " out-of-the-Avay place."
This was in 1808; but WUkie lived long enough to
see aU that part of the isle an out-of-the-Avay place no
longer: steam navigation has brought the hitherto
secluded beauties of the southern side of the Isle of
Wight in a manner to the mouth of the Thames, and
coAered its eagle cliffs and fairy vaUeys Avith mansions
and AiUas. On his way by Gosport to London he
Aisited the place where the Avorks of the French pri
soners were exposed to sale : he was astonished with
the ingenuity of that people, he said, but disgusted
Avith the want of dehcacy and modesty in some of
their productions. He made another attempt to en
joy an evening Avith the mUitary comrades of his
brother at Portsmouth ; but found them too convivial
and boisterous, and took the road to London, where
he arrived on the 20th day of September, and re
sumed his studies, and continued the daily record of
his labours, Adsits, and engagements.
Journal.
" September 20th, Went to breakfast Avith Haydon,
and talked over Avith him the events of my excursion
to Southampton. I saw the fire at Covent Garden
Theatre, which broke out this morning early: the
whole of the edifice was nearly consumed when I
arrived. Went to the Admiralty ; saw Lord and
Lady Mulgrave, who requested me to dine Avith them
that evening, and bring Haydon Avith me. I commu
nicated this to Haydon; and as he Avished to see my
o 3

198 THE LIFE OF 1808.
portrait of the Marchioness of Lansdowne, he came
Avith me to my lodgings ; and I was agreeably sur
prised by finding his opinion much more favourable
than I could have expected ; indeed, he went so far
as to say that some parts of it were infinitely superior
to any thing I had hitherto done. At 6 we went to
dine ; I took the portrait of the Marchioness of Lans
doAvne Avith me ; and as Lord Mulgrave seemed
pleased Avith it, I left it there for a few days.^21st,
Got a cap to paint from in my picture of The Sick
Lady; I put in the cap in the sketch, and began to
make draAvings for the hands of the lady; went and
asked Mrs. Stodart to show me some caps ; one of
them was exactly the thing, and she kindly aUowed
me to have it home Avith me. — 2 2d, Had a note from
Anthony Carlisle proposing subjects for paintmg;
began to paint at 11, and continued tUl 3, in which
time I finished the cap and the two hands of the
sick lady. Had a caU from Ridley Colborne. —
23d, While I was at breakfast Reinagle came in,
and staid a considerable time ; he looked on the pic
ture of The Sick Lady, and found a great number of
faults, Avithout pointing out a single merit. When
he was gone I began to paint, and put in the gown
of the old lady, during which time I had a caU from
a person of whom Reinagle spoke — a Mr. BurreU —
who complained much of a picture painted for him by
LaAvrence. — 24th, Began to paint at 10, and con
tinued till 4, and succeeded in putting in a great
part of the shawl of the sick lady. Had a caU from
Burnet, who brought me the picture of The Jew's
Harp, on purpose to be finished  25th, Haydon

iET.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 199
came to breakfast, during which Liimel called ; Avent
with Haydon to Chalon's, Avho showed us most of the
pictures which he had beside him: avc Avent to Mr.
Thomas Hope's, who Avas A'ery kind, and shoAved us
some draAvings of the ancient costume Avhich he meant
soon to publish. — 26th, Began to paint at 10, and
continued tui 4 ; put in the raw colouring of the
shawl and the chair of the old lady. — 27th, Had a
caU from Mr. Chalon ; discontinued painting to-day
at 4, after haAing done something to the head of the
old man and lightened the coat of the physician.
Dined, then caUed on Haydon, but did not find him;
came directly home ; made a shght sketch of a sub
ject I have in contemplation — The Cut Finger. —
28th, Began to paint at 10, and Avrought tUl I glazed
in the shawl of the old lady, painted in the border,
and finished the bed-cover. Dined at 4, and caUed
on Seguier. — 29th, Took the cap back to Mrs. Stodart;
went to the Admiralty, where I saw Lord Mulgrave,
and was invited to dine Avith him, and desired to
bring Haydon. I brought away the portrait of the
Marchioness of Lansdowne ; began to paint, and
went over several parts of my picture of The Sick
Lady. Dressed, and Avith Haydon dined Avith Lord
Mulgrave, and had a long conversation on English
poetry. — 30th, Wrought tUl 4 o'clock Avithout inter
ruption ; altered the chair in the corner of the picture
of The Sick Lady, which has improved it much. I did
not get to the Academy.
" October 1st, Had a call from Mr. Rogers, the poet,
to look at my pictures : as he Avent out, Burnet came
in. I then had a caU from Lawrence and one of his
o 4

200 THE LIFE OF 1808.
friends. I showed them my pictures, with which they
seemed a good deal pleased ; and LaAvrence's friend,
whose name I could not make out, gave me a com
mission to paint him a picture, leaving time, subject,
and price entirely to myself.* I was principally em
ployed to-day glazing in the background of The Sick
Lady, which I may say I have very nearly completed.
— 2d, Haydon and Seguier came to breakfast ; but
Chalon, though he had promised, did not appear. —
3d, Began to paint at 12, and put in a looking-glass
in the picture of The Sick Lady, on the top of a chest
of drawers, which has improved it much. Went with
Haydon to the Academy, and took plans. — 4th, Be
gan to paint in the smaU parlour of The Jew's Harp ;
went over the hand of the girl and other parts of the
composition. Went to the Academy, and began the
figure of Cincinnatus ; put in a shght outline. — 5th,
Had a walk ; and when I began to paint, Chalon
called, and sat with me for some time. Mr. and
Miss Goldsmith came with Mulready ; they lhked the
portrait of the Marchioness very much : I gave over
painting after having put in the peacock feather in
the head of the girl in The Jew's Harp. To Somer
set House, and drew for two hours. — 6th, Made
some alterations in the picture of The Sick Lady, by
darkening the shawl of the mother, which improved it
much. Began afterwards to The Jew's Harp, on
which I put the articles necessary to complete the top
of the picture. It is almost entirely finished by this
day's work. Had a caU from Lady Mulgrave and her
* This, as we shall see, was Mr. Angerstein.

Mt.23. SIR DAVID AV1LK1E. 201
sister. Went to the Academy, and did a little to my
figure — 7th, CaUed on John Campbell at the Temple ;
he Avas out, but I left his father's portrait at his
chambers. Came home, and commenced on the
sketch of The Cut Finger. Sent a man to Liston's for
the pheasants which were hying there for me. — 8th,
Had a caU from Sharp the engraver, and found him
rather a singular character : he expressed a Avish to
engraA'e some of my pictures. Began to paint and
put in most part of the sketch of The Cut Finger.
Haydon caUed, and told me that he and I were in-
Aited to dine Avith Lord Midgrave, and that he could
not dine with me as had been proposed. Dined at
the Admiralty. — 9th, StroUed with Haydon to Hamp
stead, and sauntered about the Heath. — 10th, Began
to paint at 10, and made some alterations in the pic
ture of The Sick Lady, which occupied me tiU 2,
when a young girl came whom I had sent for, and I
began to alter the head of the girl in The Jew's Harp
from her, which has mended it much. Went to the
Academy. — 11th, Sent for a man to sit as a model : he
did not suit me, and I sent him away. I then began to
complete my sketch of The Cut Finger, which occu
pied me tiU 4 o'clock. Went to the CroAvn and
Anchor, and dined Avith the Thistle Club ; was home
before ten. — 12th, CaUed on Burnet, and saw him at
work; went to Mulready's, and found him engaged on
his picture ; then came home, and began to paint, al
ternately, on the three pictures before me, Adz. The
Sick Lady, The Jew's Harp, and The Cut Finger.
Studied at the Academy tUl 8 ; home, and found an invi
tation from Lord Mulgrave to dine with him to-mor-

202 THE LIFE OF 1808.
row  13th, Commenced this day with the picture of
The Cut Finger ; was interrupted a whole hour by G.,
who bothered me Avith his ground and colours. Burnet
came in, and stood whUe I put in some touches in The
Jew's Harp, which he took away with him. As he
went, John Campbell, from the Temple, came in ;
went to Lord Mulgrave's, where I had the honour of
meeting Canning ; during the evening Cosway, who
was there, spoke a great deal, and Canning very httle.
Lord Mulgrave sent to Sol's Row for my picture of
The Sick Lady to show to Cosway ; came away at
half-past 10 o'clock. — 14th, Had a walk in the morn
ing, and on returning had a message from Charles
BeU*, requesting to see me. I began to paint on The
Cut Finger, and afterwards went to Charles BeU,
who wished to consult me about the approaching elec
tion of Professor of Anatomy to the Royal Academy,
for which he intended to stand as a candidate. I
agreed to caU on four academicians in his cause to
morrow morning. — 15th, Went to Woodford, who
was out of town, and to Sir WiUiam Beechey, whose
vote I found engaged : Sir WiUiam desired me to sit
doAvn till he made a sketch of my head ; he then began
on a kit-cat canvass to lay in the groundwork of a por
trait, which he succeeded in doing before 2 o'clock,
during which time Haydon, who was with me, Avent
out to canvass Smirke for Bell, but his vote was also
engaged. Home, and began to make drawings for my
picture of The Cut Finger ; then went to Bell, with
Avhom I found Haydon, to tell him of our unsuccessful
* Afterwards Sir Charles Bell.

^Et.23. SIR DAVID AV1LKIE. 203
endeavours ; Avished to go to the Academy, but
Haydon, who Avas seized by an idle fit, refused to go,
but puUed me away to Drury Lane, to enjoy The Ho
ney Moon. — 16th, Called on Hoppner, and found him
sitting in the parlour in a rather melancholy humour,
but conA'ersation brightened him up a little. Tur-
nereUi caUed, and, reminding me of my promise to dine
Avith him, took me to his house in Kentish Town, but
as I did not altogether rehsh the company I found, I
came away soon after dinner, and began to Avrite to
my father. — 17th, My brother James arrived this
morning from Portsmouth ; walked out to try and find
a person as a model for my picture, and had the good
fortune to find one before I had gone the length of
the street ; at 12 the model came, and I began to paint
from her the head of the old woman in The Cut
Finger; she sat tiU near four. Haydon, on whom I
called, took another unaccountable idle fit, and insisted
on gomg to the theatre instead of the Academy : I
aUowed him to do so by himself, and went and drew
at the Academy. — 18th, Went to the British Insti
tution, where I saw many students ; caUed on Sir
WUUam Beechey, who began to paint on my portrait,
and continued at it tUl near 4 : went with Haydon
to the Academy, and studied there tiU 8 — 19th, Sent
for a sitter, by which I might finish the head of the
old woman in The Cut Finger; while at work, I re
ceived a letter from Mr. Annesley, containing a draft
for 30 guineas, the price of the picture of The
Jew's Harp ; sold out stock to the amount of 50/.,
for which I received 32/. — 20th, Paid my bro
ther 20 of the 25/. I borrowed a year ago, and he

204 THE LIFE OF 1808.
left me at half-past 10 o'clock ; I began to paint at
11, and finished the old woman's cap, and made a
drawmg of one of her hands. Went Avith Haydon
to the Academy, and continued draAving at the co
lossal hand tiU 8. — 21st, Began to paint the hands
of the old woman from the hands of a person who
visits the people with whom I lodge ; wrought till 4,
and got in part of the sleeves. — 22d, CaUed on Sharp
the engraver, who showed me several of his prints,
one of which he requested me to correct for him with
a piece of chalk; I took it home for that purpose.
Gave over painting at 5, having done in the sleeves and
handkerchief of the old woman. Went to the Aca
demy, and finished the drawing of the large head. —
23d, Haydon and I went and drank tea at Sam Strow-
ager's (the man-model ofthe Academy), and came away
mutually pleased with the respectabUity of our enter
tainment  24th, To Sir William Beechey's to break
fast ; was introduced to Lady Beechey ; Sir WiUiam
expected another sitter, and could not proceed with
my portrait. Home, and began to paint from a Uttle
girl, and in the course of the day put in another hand
in my picture of The Cut Finger. — 25th, Finished
the little boy's hand in The Cut Finger, which I
think I have painted tolerably well  26th, Break
fasted with Sir WUliam Beechey, and afterwards sat for
my portrait ; Sharp the engraver came in, and amused
us very much. Home at 12, and began to paint hands
in my picture from a little girl whom I got on pur
pose; went to theAcademy. — 27th, Called on Heaphy;
found him employed in his painting room, and looked at
his pictures. Began to paint at 12, and had a httle boy to

.ah-. 23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 205
sit for the hand and arm of the child in The Cut Finger.
— 28th, Painted till 4, and went over the boy's hand
vrith the cut finger. To the Academy, and in re
turning through Leicester Square, looked on the
moon and the other planets through a telescope for a
penny. — 29th, Made draAvings of hands tiU 12, when
I began to paint and put in from nature the hand of
the girl snatching the knife out of the boy's hand. —
30th, CaUed on West, but did not find him at home ;
then went to Sir WiUiam Beechey's, and made an in
teresting examination of a picture by Vandyke. —
31st, Began to paint from a httle girl the left arm of
the httle boy; at 12 another girl came, from whom
I painted the head of the girl looking over the old
woman's shoulder ; at 2 another girl came, from whom
I painted in the arm of the taUer girl.
'• November 1st, A Uttle girl sat for the hands
and feet of the boy ; the painting of which occupied
me tUl 12. To my no smaU surprise the Marquis and
Marchioness of Lansdowne called with two of her
ladyship's daughters, to whom I showed the pictures
on which I am at present engaged, and promised to
take the picture of The Sick Lady to Lansdowne House
to-morrow morning. After they were gone, the model
arrived for the hand and arm of the taller girl in the
picture, which I finished about 4 o'clock. — 2d, Took
the picture of The Sick Lady to LansdoAvne House ;
saw the Marquis and Marchioness, and had the satisfac
tion to find it was much liked by the family. Home,
and began to paint from nature the girl looking over
the old woman's shoulder, and then began on the cap of
the taUer girl. Had a call from Peter Cleghorn, just

206 THE LIFE OF 1808.
arrived from Scotland. Went with Haydon to the
Opera House to see the Covent Garden Company play
Henry the Eighth ; was much pleased with the Wol
sey and Catharine of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons.
— 4th, Began to work at 10 and continued till 4, and
put in the dress of the girl looking over the old
woman's shoulder ; and also a part of the back
ground. — 5th, Sat to Sir WUliam Beechey for my
portrait from 10 to 12. Home, and had a caU from
Mr. Annesley, to whom I showed the pictures I have
beside me. Had a letter from my sister Helen
teUing much that I loved to hear from my native
Cults. Altered the gown of the old woman in
The Cut Finger; put into my picture the apron,
and a piece of white drapery on the knee of the
old woman. — 6th, Walked to Camden Town : Hay
don came to breakfast ; we went to church toge
ther, and heard a good sermon from Sydney Smith.
Had a caU from Lord Mulgrave ; after he went away
came Peter Coxe, who began reading to me part of a
work which he had in the press against Napoleon;
but was interrupted by Lord Mulgrave, who brought
in his lady to look at the picture of The Cut Finger :
his lordship went away, and I heard the remainder of
the work' read ; we then wahked out, and observing a
house to let in one of the streets, we went in to
inquire about it, when Mr. Coxe puUed out his manu
script, and began to read it to the woman who had
the house in keeping. I left him, and took a look at
the Elgin marbles. — 7th, I began to alter the effect
of the sketch of The Cut Finger ; painted in part of
the petticoat of the old woman. Went to the Aca-

JEt.23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 207
demy, and afterwards to Romney's, where I found
Raimbach and Wyatt, and spent a pleasant evening.
— 8th, Painted from 10 tiU 4, Avhen I had a call from
NeAvton ; put in the blue handkerchief of the taUest
girl, the ribands of her cap, and touched the petticoat
of the old woman. — 9th, Pamted in the boy's pin
afore ; then went to look for lodgings, and saw some
in NeAvman Street, which I thought would suit me.
— 10th, Took Haydon to look at the Newman Street
lodgings ; found they would not suit me : continued
going from house to house tUl 12 o'clock, when we
succeeded in getting a suite which, for respectabUity
and cheapness, completely satisfied me : we found
them at Mrs. Coppard's, 84. Great Portland Street.
I am to have two sitting-rooms and two bed-rooms,
and to enter upon them on Monday fortnight. I
painted a Uttle, and had a letter from my father, tell
ing me what was doing in Cults. Went to the Aca
demy, and saw Constable : the only thing I painted at
home to-day was the pinafore of the boy, which I am
not sure but I must rub out ; it seems not the proper
colour. — 11th, Rubbed out to-day what I had done
yesterday to the child's pinafore, and painted it in
again of a bright yeUow colour, which, Avith the dark
coloured trousers, improved the look of the picture
greatly. — 12th, Haydon came to breakfast ; saw the
picture, and approved of the boy's clothes, but ob
jected to the blue apron ofthe old woman, on account
of its being too cold for that part of the picture.
When he was gone I began to paint, and finished the
cap of the old woman, and put in the cat at her feet.
— 13th, Seguier called: he liked The Cut Finger,

208 THE LIFE OF 1808.
as far as it goes, better than any thing I have
done. Went with him to Coppard's, to see my
new lodging : agreed to give 20/. a year to keep a
servant for me. Seguier adAised me to lessen the
boy's hand, and alter the colour of his pinafore. —
14th, Altered the boy's pinafore, as Seguier had sug
gested, from a strong to a pale yeUow, which has
certainly improved the look of the picture. — 15th,
Succeeded to-day in putting in almost the whole dress
of the taUest girl, except the stockings and shoes. —
16th, Began to paint after 10, and wrought tiU 4 ;
had a call from Mrs. Flaxman and Miss Flaxman,
Avho invited me to come and see them in the
evening ; which I did. I retouched to-day the pet
ticoat of the taUest girl, painted one of the boy's
feet, and the shoes of the old woman. — 17th, CaUed
to-day on Dr. BaiUie ; had an invitation to dine
with Lord Mulgrave, which I was very sorry to
be obliged to decUne, having accepted of an invita
tion from Cleghorn. Painted the feet of the taUest
girl and the wooden clog. — 18th, Painted in various
Uttle parts of the picture; put mugs and other
utensils on the table. Burnet caUed, and urged me
to make the waU behind the old woman much whiter.
— 19th, Walked before breakfast, though the morn
ing was wet : had a note from Lord Mulgrave, re
questing to know what price I had set upon my
picture of The Sick Lady, as he Avished to pay me
for the sketch. Was employed principally to-day in
painting the table and some of the articles on it.
Found, on returning from the Academy, a card from
Lord Mulgrave inclosing a cheque for fifteen guineas

Mt. 23. SIR DAVID AVLLKIE. 209
for the sketch of The Sick Lady. — 20th, Haydon
caUed to look at my picture: he approved of the
changes Avhich I had made. — 21st, Accompanied
Seguier to Henry Hope's, where we staid some time,
examining the pictures in the two rooms up stairs, in
which I found some things which wiU be of use to
me in my picture : home, and painted tUl 4, when I
had a caU from Mr. Prince Hoare, who staid with me
an hour. Dined at Dr. BaUlie's, where I met the tAvo
Miss BaiUies. — 2 2d, Had a call from Mr. Neave of
Hampstead, who insisted much that I should take a
group of portraits of his famUy, and invited me to
dine Avith him that we might consult about it. Worked
a Uttle, and put into my picture the whitewashed
waU behind the old woman and the tea-things in the
corner; went to the Academy. — 23d, Began to paint
after breakfast, and continued till 4 ; during Avhich
time I finished the part under the table at the Avin-
dow, and glazed the purple petticoat of the taUest
girl, and painted the fire. Had a caU from Jackson,
who is just arrived from Yorkshire; Ramsay also
caUed, and left some of his engravings to show to
Hunt. — 24th, Walked to Paddington ; began to paint
at 10 ; had a caU from Mr. Sharpe of the Institution,
who requested me to dine with the students at their
pubhc dinner, which I dechned. Went over the wall
behind the old woman's head, for the purpose of
Avorking it ; I also put in a smaU looking-glass in the
waU to bring her hand out from the back- ground.
Dined Avith Mr. Neave, where I met Sir John and
Lady Sheffield. — 25th, Did a little more to the white
washed wall, and put in some httle articles about the
vol. i. p

210 THE LIFE OF 1808.
fireside. CaUed and saw the sketches of Constable,
with which I was much pleased. — 26th, Haydon
came to breakfast with me; when he was gone I
began to paint, but first sent out the girl of the
house to buy a fowl, which was plucked for me to
paint from ; put in the fowl Avith the oU bottle on
the white waU. — 27th, At church, and heard a very
good sermon from a Mr. Rushwood ; began to write
a letter to my father, telUng him of my intention of
leaving Sol's Row for Great Portland Street. Dined
Avith Wilson in South Street, where I met Gourlay,
and Spankie, and Stark. I found Spankie* a man
of great powers of conversation, with a copious
fund of ideas, and very agreeable manners. — 28th,
Began to pack up my several articles of furni
ture for removal, which occupied me tUl 1 o'clock.
Paid Mrs. Good the last week's rent of my lodgings,
and made her a present of a guinea to buy something
for her daughter as a remembrance. I took leaA'e of
her with very considerable regret, and having got
most of my pictures into the coach, I left Dodson to
bring the trunks and come off to 84. Great Portland
Street, where I found every thing ready for me, and
before 4 o'clock had every thing put in its proper
place. I wrote a note informing Lord Mulgrave of
my change of abode. Jackson and Haydon came to
tea, and I spent with my brother Thomas and them
a very pleasant evening. — 29th, In my picture to-day
I made the slate a little larger ; painted some things
about the chimney-piece, and put in the piece of stock
which hangs over it  30th, Painted in the pewter
basin, and wrought round about.
* The late Mr. Sergeant Spankie.

Mt.23. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 211
" December 1st, Went to Sir WiUiam P>eeehoy to sit
for my picture at 10 o'clock, when after staying
doing nothmg tiU half-past 11, he began to paint:
he had cleaned the picture of Vandyke, which I think
has injured it. Home, and put in the tongs and
poker at the side of the fire. I happened to try
to-day a Uttle white colour Avhich had groAvn fat by
standing, and found it to work in a rich and very
easy manner. — 2d, The only thing 1 did to-day was
the chair in the corner of my picture. Haydon ap
proved of the peAvter basin A'ery much. I caUed on
Sharpe, whose picture, I think, a very great effort,
although too much in imitation of Terburg. Saw
Lord Mulgrave, who told me that Miss Phipps was
dangerously Ul; told the sad news to Jackson and
Haydon. Mr. Neave sat with me for some time, and
talked over the sketch of his famUy picture. CaUed
on Mr. Stodart, and brought away one of his fowling-
pieces for the purpose of introducing into my picture.
Did nothing to my picture to-day  4th, To church
where I heard Sydney Smith preach a sermon, which,
for its eloquence and power of reasoning, exceeded
any thing I had ever heard. The subject was the
conversion of St. Paul, of which he proved the authen
ticity, in opposition to aU the objections and doubts
of infidelity. Called on Mrs. BaiUie and left my card ;
caUed at the Admiralty, and was sorry to find that Miss
Phipps was no better. Mem. The delicacy which is
the offspring of power, is always superior to the soft
ness of a mind which cannot rise above the pretty and
the dehcate — 5th, Painted from 10 tiU 4, and put into
my Uttle picture the smaU ship on the chair, and
p 2

212 THE LIFE OF 1808.
finished the floor and the small pieces of wood upon it.
— 6th, Called on Liston and Bannister, who proposed
to me for a subject " The Opening of a WUl;" which I
consider an excellent idea, and I am much obhged to
them for suggesting it. Returned, and wrought at my
picture ; the chief thing I did was to paint over the cloth
which hangs across the chimney. Had a caU from
Mr. Neave, who made some proposals regarding the
intended group of family portraits.- — 7th, Began to
paint at 10, and continued tiU 4, interrupted only by
a caU from Seguier. Put in the flower-pot in the
window of my picture, Avith the shining of the sun on
the wall. I also began a smaU sketch of my intended
group of portraits of the Neave FamUy. — 8th, Had a
caU from the Marquis of Lansdowne, who had come
to town for a few days. Went to Mr. Raimbach's,
where I met NeAvton; heard some fine music from
Mrs. Raimbach; stayed supper, which kept me tiU
1 o'clock. — 9th, I made some alterations in the fire
place of my picture ; did a httle to the window, and
laid in my sketch of the Neave portraits. — 10th, Had
a call from Mr. and Mrs. Neave, who came with their
eldest daughter : they approved in a great measure of
my smaU sketch. CaUed at the Admiralty, and found
that Miss Phipps was recovering ; called on Mrs.
Stodart, and brought away the iEohan harp which she
had been so good as to give me. I painted to-day the
fowhng-piece over the chimney, with the belt attached.
— 11th, To church, where I heard an impressive ser
mon from our new clergyman. Had a long conversa
tion with Jackson about a professor who gave lec
tures on the arts and manufactures of Great Britain.

Mt. 23.

SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 213

— 12th, Received a note from Lord Mulgrave sealed
Avith black, requesting me to take particular care of
the sketch I had made of his poor child ; from Avhich
I but too truly concluded she Avas dead. Called at
the Admiralty, and inquired how my Lord and Lady
Mulgrave were. CaUed on Mr. WeUs, and saAV, among
other pictures, a very fine one by Ostade, which he Avas
so kind as to promise to lend me. Painted in a little of
the ceUing of the room. — 13th, Had a caU from Mr.
Neave and his eldest son, who I think avUI make rather
a good subject. Mem. I fear, from the number of alter
ations proposed by Mr. Neave in the smaU sketch, that
I shall, in proceeding with the picture, not have so
much of my oaati avUI as is necessary to do myself
justice in the undertaking. I put into my picture of
The Cut Finger the lantern hanging by the ceihng,
and touched a Uttle on the rafters  14th, Heard
that Harlow's goods had been seized, on to pay the
Income Tax. Glazed the piece of cloth hanging on
the chimney-piece of my picture. — 15th, Went to
sit at Sir WiUiam Beechey's, where I stood for three
hours, during which time aU that he did to the pic
ture was merely a slight rubbing on one of the hands,
being for the A\hole time occupied Avith Mr. Tupper
and a laAvyer, who came to consult about a lawsuit
respecting the prints of Boydell's Shakspeare. I
painted in the towel and the back of the chair, and
went over part of the chimney behind it. — 1 6th, Went
to the Middle Temple Hall, and saw the portrait of
Charles the First, by Vandyke ; went to Mr. Harmon
in the city, where I was much gratified by the sight
of his coUection, particularly by the Ostade, which I
p 3

214 THE LIFE OF 1808.
think is one of the finest I have seen by that master.
I also saw a small picture by Teniers, which had a head
in it remarkable for the life it seemed to have in the
eyes. Mr. Steers, who was with me, gave me a hint
that Mr. Harmon wished me to paint a picture for
him. Began to paint, but aU I did was by way of
experiment. — 17th, Haydon approved of some ofthe
alterations which I proposed in The Cut Finger, and
approved of the sketch which I had made for the
group of portraits, and told me that I ought not on
any account to alter my original arrangement of the
boy's dress. When he was gone, I began to paint,
and after laying the ground on the panel for Mr.
Neave's picture, I continued tUl 4 o'clock on The Cut
Finger; put in a piece of curtain hanging on the
chimney-piece over the taUest girl's head, which has
improved the picture very much. I propose making
the ground darker, particularly the stock. — 18th,
Went to breakfast with Seguier, and took up Haydon
and Prout by the way ; then to church, where Sydney
Smith preached. — 19th, Painted at the things on the
chimney-piece of The Cut Finger. Had a present of
a brace of pheasants sent to me from Mr. Henley. —
20th, Went over the fowling-piece in my picture
again — 21st, I went to-day over the drapery of my
picture, and made some obvious improvements. —
2 2d, Had a talk Avith Mr. Clarke on the old Enghsh
writers ; he decidedly preferred Milton and Cowley in
their prose writings, when compared Avith the boasted
improvements of modern writers ; he spoke vdth ad
miration of the plays of Moliere, and advised me to
get acquainted Avith them. Mr. Neave caUed ; he sat,

Mt.23. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 215
and I began the picture : and before he Avent awa)-,
put in the figures shghtly of himself and Mrs. Neave.
— 23d, CaUed at the British GaUery, and saAV the
pictures of the candidates for the premiums, and Avas
Aery much amused by some of them. Came home, and
began to paint on The Cut Finger ; but as I was not
satisfied Avith what I Avas doing, I took a walk. — 24th,
I began to paint ; Mr. and Mrs. Neave, and three of
their chUdren, came in, and I succeeded in putting in
aU their figures. I did nothing to my picture of The
Cut Finger to-day. — 26th, Made some alterations in
the picture of The Cut Finger. Mr. Neave and three of
his boys came and sat Avith me tUl near three, in
which time I sketched them all in, and then Avrought
over the whole group of portraits. Had a note from
WUUam Godwin, inviting me to dine with him on
Friday next, to meet Dr. Wolcot and Mr. Liston. —
27th, Paid the Coppards the first month's rent of my
lodgings, thirteen pounds and odd. Began to paint, but
the day being dark, did not get on rapidly ; got over
the taUest girl's petticoat in The Cut Finger. — 28th,
Pamted to-day on the cushion of the chair by the
side of the picture. — 29th, Had a long account from
Sir WUUam Beechey to-day of Mr. BoydeU's being
nonsuited about the Shakspeare Gallery; admired,
with Mr. Neave, Reynolds's portrait of Zachary Mudge,
which was the first he painted after his return from
Italy; went and looked at some of the old pictures
coUected by Sir Francis Bourgeois, and liked them
much. The darkness of t day prevented me from
working at my picture  30th, Dined with Godwin,
and met Wolcot and Liston. I was highly enter-
p 4

216 THE LIFE OF 1808.
tained with the humour of Wolcot, although some
times gross. He broached some strange doctrines ;
he declared that he had a great reverence for the Di
vine Being ; but he considered religion to be a means
in the hand of Providence for producing mischief."
The narrative of this daily journal has been aUowed
to flow on in its full and simple detaU till the history
ofthe pictures of The Sick Lady, The Jew's Harp, and
The Cut Finger, was completed. From these entries
genius, whUst contending vdth difficulties, may derive
consolation, and even dulness, which beheves that
labour can accomphsh every thing, may be cheered
from the toUs of Wilkie. None of these three
works came at once from the fashioner's hand; the
reigning sentiment was indeed present to the painter's
mind from the first, but aU of an auxUiary nature ;
aU that goes to heighten the effect, or iUustrate the
sentiment, rose slowly, I had almost said reluctantly,
on his fancy. He listened with astonishing composure
to aU who came Avith counsel on their hps; he rejected
no adAice without duly considering it; he hesitated
at no experiment either of colour or arrangement;
he boggled at no labour if it promised amendment.
He rose early to his studies, and, in spite of continu
ous visits, wrought late ; he was not a painter by fits
and starts, nor had he any cause to complain that
particular times and seasons were required to the
operations of his fancy: when the light of the day
was clear, he Avrought Avithout regarding whether it
was winter or summer, seed-time or harvest. When
he had finished his labours at his lodgings, he went

Mt. 23.

SIR DAVTD WILIUE. 217

to the Academy, and dreAV from living and dead
models Avith aU the ardour of a student in his first
quarter's attendance ; and as he knew that the English
school Avas reproached for imperfection in drawing,
he drew diligently from the antique marbles, and
though he did not always reach their floAving delicacy
of outline, he neA'er faded to seize the sentiment of
the original.
The picture of The Sick Lady was, as we have
said, the offsprmg of long study, and of frequent
retouching and amendment. The scene is very
natural and affecting : an only daughter lying on a
sick-bed, watched' by an anxious father and mother,
and receiving the Aisit from her physician, who is
caned to pronounce for death or life. The young
lady — a meek and gentle creature — Ues patient with
her eyehds half closed, nor seeks to hft them to the
face of her physician, who sits calmly counting the
throbs of her burning pulse, Avith an air, from which
her mother can gather neither hope nor despair,
though she is looking as if she would look him
through. The father has risen from reading a page
of the Christian's book of comfort, and looks and
listens hke one who would fain hear words of con
solation, however faint. The room is slightly dark
ened ; a cloth is thrown over the cage of the young
lady's favourite bird, lest even its weU-known song
might distress her ; whUe her httle dog has come to
the bed-side, and looks up anxiously, as if inquiring
how she feels. This last is a true touch of nature.
The whole picture is composed of such delicacies as
defy description.

218 THE LIFE OF 1808.
The Jew's Harp is one of those happy works,
which, Avithout caUing forth the highest powers of
the painter, gather as much fame as compositions of
higher reach. The story is told in three words: a
boy and girl return from a fair with a Jew's harp,
on which they have laid out their pence instead of
gilt gingerbread; and their father tries the merit of
their purchase, whUe they look and Usten delighted.
The dog, which accompanied them to market, hes at
their feet weary more with its own gambols than the
length of the journey ; whUe the sweet sounds which
the old man seems extracting from the Uttle instru
ment satisfies the whole party of the exceUence of
the purchase. Nor has the girl forgotten to buy a
riband, which she has already round her neck, whUe
the peacock feather in her slouched hat speaks of
green fields and country air. The accessories of this
pretty picture show Avith what care the painter stu
died his interiors.
The Cut Finger tells the misfortune of a boy who
cuts his finger, whUe fitting the mast in a boat, to
which a basin of water performs the part of a lake.
Nothing can exceed the rueful visage of the blubber
ing boy, save the matronly anxiety of an old woman,
who, vdth all her cottage skill, and rustic appUances,
is binding the wounded finger up. A young sister
looks anxiously over the matron's shoulder; while a
handmaid is taking the delinquent's knife from his
right hand, which he seems to hold hard, seeking in
the grip relief from the pain of his finger. This pic
ture was, when it appeared first, called The Young
Navigator by the purchaser, Mr. Whitbread, Avho de-

iET.23.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. 219

sired to see in its story the maritime glory of England
in the dawn; but a boy AA'ho cried at the sight of his
OAvn blood Avas not considered a true representative
of our conquering tars, and the picture soon took the
humbler name Avhich the great painter at first be
stowed upon it. The picture of the Marchioness of
Lansdowne was a faithful hkeness of that lady — too
faithful, as I have heard. AVilkie complained that
his lady sitters seldom rose Avith praises on their lips
at the versions which he made of their beauty, and
used to observe, with a smile, that Lawrence exceUed
aU by studying to please in the wide dominions of
flattery. When Wilkie moved from Sol's Row to more com
modious apartments in Great Portland Street, he re
sumed his labours in touching and retouching his
picture on the famUy piece of the Neaves ; and he
turned over, as he said, in his mind the subject sug
gested by Bannister of Reading the WiU, which,
daAv-niug upon him by degrees in aU its capabilities of
contrast and character, he pronounced capital. We
shall resume the account of his works from his daily
memoranda, and employ his OAvn words; they are
ever simple, and clear, and unaffected.
Journal, 1809.
" January 1st, Went to church with Jackson, who
expressed no dissatisfaction, although Sydney Smith
was not particularly briUiant. — 2d, Went to Mr.
Neave's : I painted tUl three, and by that time had
gone over some part of the face and neck and breast.
Met in the evening with Raimbach and Romney 

220 THE LIFE OF 1809.
3d, Went over the face of Mr. Neave in the picture,
which I think I have improved : Mrs. Neave talked to
me of our best authors like one who had read rather
than heard of them  4th, Went to Sir WUham
Beechey's and staid there a considerable time, but he
did not find it convenient to do any thing to my por
trait. — 5th, Mr. Neave and his son caUed, and I began
on the head of the boy, which occupied me tiU two
o'clock. — 6th, This being Twelfth-night, I went by
appointment to Sir WUUam Beechey's, where we had
a very splendid entertainment; the Hoppners were
there, and after Ustening for some time to music, in
which the Miss Beecheys are great proficients, we had
a dance which lasted till supper time. I there met
for the first time the too celebrated Lady HamUton ;
she had with her a girl supposed to be the daughter
of Lord Nelson, a creature of great sweetness : Lady
Hamilton, knowing me by name, caUed me and said
that her daughter had the finest taste imaginable, and
that she excelled in graceful attitudes. She then
made her stand in the middle of the room with a piece
of drapery, and throw herself into a number of those
elegant postures for which her Ladyship in her prime
Avas so distinguished. She afterwards told me of all
else her daughter could do, and concluded by asking
me if I did not think her very like her father. I said
I had never seen that eminent person. Lady HamU
ton is lusty, and tall, and of fascinating manners, but
her features are bold and masculine. Her daughter's
name is Horatia Hamilton. After supper we were
entertained by some songs from Lady Hamilton, and
Avith a fine specimen of mimicry by Mr. Twiss, who

Mt.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 221
gave us a speech in the manner of Pitt, which many
pronounced excellent. — 7th, WhUst painting on the
famUy picture of Mr. Neave, Burnet brought me the
tracing of The Jew's Harp to look at. — 8th, I heard
to-day that at the Institution the prizes were awarded
as foUows: — Dow, for an historical picture; Sharpe,
for a domestic subject ; and Master LinneU, for land
scape. — 9th, Had a call from the Marquis and
Marchioness of Lansdowne, who looked at aU my
pictures, and expressed a wish to have The Sick
Lady finished and brought to LansdoAvne House : the
Marchioness scolded me for not haAing the picture
completed by the 1st of January, as I had promised.
— 1 1th, I succeeded to-day in finishing my picture
of The Sick Lady, and also did something to the
picture of The Cut Finger. — 14th, Dressed, and
went to LansdoAvne House Avith my picture of The
Sick Lady; saw the Marquis and Marchioness, who
seemed to Uke the work weU. I was asked when I
would have the portrait of the Marchioness done, and
on my answering in a fortnight, he said he should
expect it, and would then settle Avith me for the
whole. Mr. Neave caUed Avith his sons, and, as they
were going away, to my great surprise, Sir George
Beaumont came : he sat with me for some time, and
said he had expected Haydon and I at Coleorton HaU,
and that we had promised to Avrite to him and say
when we were coming. Put the head of Sheffield
Neave into the famUy picture to-day. — 15th, Had a
caU from Robertson, who lately returned from Scot
land, and had caUed at Cults, and seen my father
and mother. — 16th, Was employed to-day on the pic-

222 THE LIFE OF 1809.
ture of Lady Lansdowne : Lord Essex caUed to put
me in mind, he said, of a commission which he had
formerly given me. I succeeded in painting in
the left hand holding the cup to my mind ; then sat
down to Johnson's Tour to the Hebrides. — 17th, Sir
George Beaumont caUed : he said he had been at the
Institution, and Uked Mulready's picture better than
he did Sharpe's: he Uked Haydon's picture, too, as
far as it had gone : on taking his leave he said he was
going out of town soon. — 18th, I had a caU from Lord
Mulgrave and Sir George Beaumont, to whom I
shewed the group of portraits of the Neave famUy;
the former asked me to dine Avith him at 6 o'clock :
went, and met Sir George Beaumont, General Phipps,
and Jackson, and spent, on the whole, a pleasant
evening. They talked on a variety of subjects, and
the conversation was instructive and sprightly 
20th, Went over the dwarf's dress in the picture of
the Marchioness of LansdoAvne ; caUed on Constable,
and was weU employed looking over his coUection
of prints from Reynolds. Home, and was told
that my laundress had absconded ; lose by her
about two pounds ; thankful it was not greater. —
21st, Had my usual walk in the morning; heard
that St. James's Palace had been on fire, and some
damage done : the Earl of Essex sent me a coffee
cup of a Flemish pattern, Avhich he thought I might
use in my portrait of the Marchioness of Lans
downe. — 23d, Mr. Neave came to me Avith the sad
neAvs of the death of Sir John Moore and the re-em
barkation of our troops : went and heard a A'ery sen
sible lecture from Anthony Carlisle, introductory to

Mt.24. SLR DAVID WILKIE. 223
his Course of Anatomy. AA Tien this Avas concluded
he began to demonstrate the general dhisions of the
human body on the Uving figure, for which purpose
he had Gregson in the room, Avho is a avcU made man.
— 25th, Had a caU from a gentleman who brought
compliments from Lady Mary Lindsey, and wished
me to direct him to a skilful miniature painter. I
recommended Andrew Robertson. Had a caU from
Lady Staidey, whom Chalon had told of my pictures ;
she admired The Cut Finger, and requested that I
would aUow her to bring Sir John Stanley to see it.
Went and dined at Slaughter's. — 26th, Painted on
the portrait of the Marchioness of LansdoAvne : it is
now in an adAanced state. — 28th, CaUed on Sir Wil
Uam Beechey, whom I found in his painting-room,
discoursing about a new vehicle made of India rubber,
and which, of course, comes with strong recommend
ations. — 29th, Sir WUham Beechey, and Haydon,
and I, went to church, where we had a very good
sermon from Sydney Smith, on the use and abuse
of time. Home and wrote a letter to my father.
— 30th, Went with Jackson to the Royal Academy,
where we heard Carlisle dehver his second lecture
on anatomy : were much pleased, although he treated
more on general matters than what apphed particu
larly to our art.
" February 1st, Finished the portrait of the Mar
chioness of Lansdowne. Had a caU from General
Erskine, who proposed to me to paint a portrait of
himself and his lady, which I dechned. As he went,
Sir Abraham Hume came in; he proposed several
amendments in my pictures, which aU went to keep

224 THE LIFE OF 1809.
doAvn or subdue the colours. — 2d, Took my picture
of the Marchioness of LansdoAvne to Berkeley Square.
I found that the Marquis was out of town, but was
told if I came back in an hour I would see the Mar
chioness. I then went to caU on Mr. Whitbread,
whom I found in his dressing-room : he received me
very kindly indeed. I said I had at last got a picture
finished, which I intended for him : he said he should
call immediately and see it. Called at Lansdowne
House, and saw the Marchioness, who told me the
Marquis would not be back for a week or ten days,
and desired to know how much they were indebted to
me for the pictures : I said two hundred guineas, and
twelve pounds for the frames. I had no more than
reached home when Mr. Whitbread caUed. He ap
proved of my picture (The Cut Finger) very much,
and seemed very weU satisfied with it. He asked me
to dine Avith him on Sunday, and bring The Cut
Finger, and the portraits of my father and mother
along Avith me, to show them to Lady Elizabeth : this
I promised to do. I was much amused by reading
the newspaper report of Mrs. Clarke's examination
before the House of Commons. Visited Mr. Scott, to
sell out for me fifty pounds of stock. — 5th, Dressed
and took my picture of The Cut Finger and my
father and mother's portraits to Mr. Whitbread's.
Lady Elizabeth looked at them, and, Avith Mr. Whit
bread, approved of them much. — 7th, Went to An
drew Robertson's, and sat for my picture tUl near
1 o'clock. Put in the smaU chips on the chair of The
Cut Finger. — 8th, This being the King's Fast, went
to church, and heard an exceUent sermon from Sydney

Mt.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 225
Smith. Sat till 3 o'clock for my portrait to Robert
son  9th, Air. Cross called from the Marquis of
Lansdowne, and gaA'e me a draft for the two pictures
of 222/., payable in three months, on Coutts and Co.
I pamted to-day a nightcap, above the chimney-piece,
in my picture of The Cut Finger. — 11th, Had a call
from Air. NeaA'e, who asked me what price I had fixed
upon for his group of portraits : I told him tAvo hun
dred guineas : he promised to bring his eldest daughter
on Alonday. — 13th, Had a call from Air. Dobree, who
pressed me to think of a picture for him, and pro
posed a barber's shop as a subject. AYent to Carlisle's
lecture, and had a grand display of Gregson. As I
came away, I met Avith Dr. Buchan, who spoke in
strong terms of disapprobation of the lecture, though
Carhsle is his friend. On my way home saw some
curious old chairs at a broker's, one of which I should
Uke to have. — 14th, Bought one of these old-fashioned
chairs : hope to find it useful in painting interiors. —
loth, Received to-day a very handsbme Valentine,
with A'erses, signed Helen ; but from whom I cannot
conjecture. — 17th, Went to-day to see the proceed
ings in the House of Commons, and hear the debates :
the first thing that occupied the attention of the
House was a complaint of Beresford against the
' Morning Post' for misrepresenting what had passed
between him and Air. AVardle the night before. An
animated debate arose out of this small beginning, in
which Perceval, Whitbread, and Sir Vicary Gibbs,
bore a part: they then proceeded to call Avitnesses
relative to the conduct of the Commander-in-Chief:
several were examined. Airs. Clarke Avas at last
vol. i. Q

226 THE LIFE OF 1809.
brought in, but unfortunately not examined, so that
we had no opportunity of hearing her speak. The
House grew oppressively hot, and the examination
exceedingly uninteresting, and Jackson and I came
away without any reluctance at one o'clock. — 19th,
Haydon told me that Carhsle was disappointed at my
refraining from answering his note, proposing subjects
for my pencil ; and Coxe told me that I owed a caU to
the Miss BaiUies the first time I went to Hampstead.
— 20th, As I began to paint, Mr. Reynolds, the en
graver, caUed, and told me that Mr. AVhitbread wished
me to make the Boy with the Cut Finger a Uttle more
youthful in the face, which I agreed to think of.
Mr. Neave caUed and sat tUl after two o'clock, at which
time I had gone over the greater part of the face.
Called on Leigh Hunt, and had a great deal of talk
Avith him on the Duke of York's business and Car-
Usle's lecture. — 22d, Had a call from Mrs. and Miss
BaiUie, who left me a card to their rout on Friday,
and Miss BaiUie invited me to dine at Hampstead on
Sunday s'ennight. — 23d, Began to paint at 10, when.
Mr. and Miss Neave came, and I put her face into the
picture. — 24th, Had a visit from Mr. Chalon and
Mr. WestaU ; was introduced to the latter for the first
time. Went to Ottley's, and had the good fortune to
find him at home : saw and admired his coUection,
particularly a Rembrandt, a Gaspar Poussin, a Nicolo
Poussin, and a Correggio, the last of which, I may
say, is almost the only picture of that master I
have seen which justifies his fame : the Gaspar
Poussin is most free and masterly in its execution ;
but I think the Nicolo, for its grandeur and poetic

Mt.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 227
solemnity, surpasses any thing that can be imagined :
I thanked Air. Ottley for the treat I had received.
Home, and found that a book had been sent to me
from Hector Macneil, the author of AVUI and Jean ; it is
a poem, and entitled 'The Lyric Aluse of Scotland.' I
regard this as a handsome compliment, coming from a
man of his reputation. On returning from Airs. Bail-
he's, I was told, when I had sat a few minutes at home,
that from the Ught which reddened the sky and be
gan to shine on the house-tops, there must be a great
fire somewhere raging in London ; my brother and I
went out. and, foUoAving the direction of the smoke,
found Drury Lane Theatre in a blaze. — 25th, I was
a httle surprised before breakfast by a caU from Lord
Radstock, who wished me to see a picture which he had
got, by Teniers ; went and saw it, and found a great
deal of fine painting in it. Had a card from Mr. An-
gerstein, inviting me to dine Avith him on the 2d of
Alarch, which I accepted. — 26th, Went to Andrew Wil
son's, where I saw two pictures in water colours —
Itahan views — very fine, and much in the style of
Poussin. — 27th, Went to Longman's, and amused
myself for an hour looking over some new pubhcations,
among which was Sir John Carr's tour in Scotland, in
which I found he had inserted what, at his request, I
had sent him. — 28th, Had a call from Mr. Gould-
smith, junior, who asked me to dine with him on
Monday, and paint him a picture, the price of which
he fixed at 50 guineas ; he regretted that Mulready
had asked so much for his picture as 300 guineas.
Went to Mr. Whiteford's, where I looked over books
Q 2

228 THE LIFE, OF 1809.
of prints, one of which, a volume of Ostade's etchings,
I admired very much.
" March 3d, CaUed on Sir WUliam Beechey, who told
me a good deal about the old quarrels in the Royal
Academy. Dined vdth Mr. Angerstein, and met Mr.
Baring, Mr. West, Mr. Rogers, Mr. LaAvrence, and
Mr. Fuseh; Avith whom I spent a most agreeable
evening. Fuseli's conversation was particularly strik
ing ; and, sitting beside him, I had my fuU share of it.
He talked with great discrimination on the different
English versions of the great classic poets, and of the
harmonious construction of our national poetry, in
which he gave the preference to Shakspeare. He spoke
of Haydon, and the historical picture he was just then
painting, and gave it his decided approbation. On
this, some of the company began to talk of Haydon's
picture of the Holy Family, and to comment on the
character of Joseph, and the miraculous conception, in
a manner scarcely orthodox. They then began to
discuss the merits of the Christian rehgion ; and, al
though they admitted its divine origin, and the moral
grandeur of its conceptions, they would not, on any
account, aUow that it was calculated to amend human
nature. I opposed this strongly, but Avithout effect.
In the course of the evening, Fuseh, in the hearing of
Angerstein and Lawrence, recommended me strongly
to set my name doAvn as a candidate for the rank of
Associate before the next election in the Royal Aca
demy. — 5th, Haydon called : I told him what Fuseh
had said of his picture at Angerstein' s table ; which
naturally gave him great satisfaction. Went to Sir
WiUiam Beechey's, who did in my hands in the por-

.Et.24. SIR DAA1D AVILKIE. 22!)
trait. Thence to Hampstead, to dine Avith Aliss
BaiUie. Joanna told me during the eAening that she
had two A7olumes of phiA's, which Avere said to contain
the plots of Shakspeare's Lear, King John, Comedy of
Errors, and Henry the Fourth ; Avhich she would be
glad to show me at some future time. — 6th, AVent to
Hoppner's. to see a Tintoret, Avhich for handling Avas
A'ery fine. CaUed on Owen, and saw his picture of
the Dowager Lady Beaumont, which I think by much
the finest thing Owen has yet done. I saw several
portraits of his besides, winch I also hked. He seems
in his pictures to haA'e acquired a very good surface ;
if it has any fault, it is in some places rather glossy.
It puts me in mind of Cornelius Jansen. — :7th, Put on
a pair of new boots, which by the evening became so
uneasy that I tried to puU them off, and faded ; the
bootmaker came, and faUed also, for my legs were
swelling : he was obhged to rip the seam before he
could get them off. — 1 4th, To Jackson's, where I saw
the portrait which he is paintmg of Haydon. Had a
sUver key from AVhiteford for the opera, where I saw
many people whom I knew; and amongst them the
Hoppners and Reinagles. I saw also the Princess of
AVales. — 17th, Painted from 11 tUl 2, and went over
in that time Aliss NeaA^e's pehsse and part of the vel
vet window curtain. Had a caU from Dr. Brewster,
who brought a letter of introduction from Professor
Leshe, of Edinburgh. Brewster is concerned in a
Cyclopaedia in Scotland, which will be a very ex
tensive work. He gave me a high character of Thomas
CampbeU's new poem (Gertrude of Wyoming). Lord
Alulgrave sent to me the picture of The Rent Day, that
Q 3

230 THE LIFE OF 1809.
it might profit by being beside me, before going to the
Exhibition. — 19th, Got the frame for The Cut Finger,
which suited it remarkably weU. Miss Gouldsmith
called ; I prevailed on her to sit for a few minutes, tUl
I put in from her dress part of Miss Neave's pehsse.
Lord Mulgrave came, and invited me to dine with him
at the Admiralty on Saturday, and promised me the
company of Sir George Beaumont. — 22d, Took my
picture of The Cut Finger to Mr. Whitbread, who
seemed to like it weU ; Lady EUzabeth also seemed
much pleased Avith it. I left the picture, and returned
home to paint. I dechned a dinner ticket from the
Society of Arts, and employed myself in the evening
in going on Avith my sketch of The Public-House
Door. — 23d, I had a call to-day from Cromek, the
engraver, who told me that he had a picture from the
country to place in the Royal Academy Exhibition,
which he wished me to see ; and for that purpose I
accompanied him to his own house in Newman Street.
The picture represents the arrival of good news ; has
in it a variety of characters, and is very well painted.
— 25th, Air. Neave came, and I went on Avith his
dress tiU 4, when I finished his figure entirely, and
promised to go to Hampstead on Monday, and paint
the face of the younger girl. Dined at the Admiralty ;
Lady Mulgrave was Avith us ; the first time I had
seen her since the death of her daughter. -^- 28th,
Cromek came, and told me that he Avished to caU on
me Avith his friend EdAvard Bird, who had painted the
picture of Good News ; I fixed on to-morrow at 1.
Went to Mr. Neave's, and finished the head of the
younger girl ; tried to put in her hands, but did not

iET.24. S1K DAVID AVILKIE. 231
succeed to my mind. — 29th, Had the appointed call
from Cromek and Bird ; they looked at my picture of
The Rent Day for some time, and then Avent away.
I tried to amend the ceiling of the room in that, picture,
by adding some ornaments  30th, Home, and painted
tiU 4 o'clock on my picture of The Rent Day, and I
think improved it much. SaAV Haydon, who advised
me not to go on with the picture of the Pubhc-House
Door  31st, Went to Sir AViUiam Beechey's, Avhere
I was told of a new regulation which had passed into
a law, that aU Academicians were to be aUowed to
A'arnish and touch up their pictures, after they were
hung on the waUs, between the day of sending them
in and the day of the private view. AVent home, and
began to put in a few touches in the picture of The
Rent Day ; put something into the cornice, and some
bits of red into the figures.
" April 1st, Had a caU from Burnet, who told me
he was doing something to the plate of The Jew's
Harp ; called on Cromek, and told him I should caU
with Haydon to-morrow to see Bird's picture : thence
to TurnereUi's, where I saw a bust of the Duke of
Cumberland, which I did not think Ul done. Whilst
I was gone Lord Alulgrave and Sir George and Lady
Beaumont caUed and saw my pictures. — 2d, Took
Haydon to Cromek's, where we saw Bird's picture;
Avhich, I must confess, on looking at a second time,
I did not admire so much as I did at first. Went
next to Airs. Poole's, where we saw some pictures, of
which we admired particularly a head of Christ by
Guido, which, for that pale and livid colouring pecu
liarly adapted to the situation of the Saviour, is the
Q 4

232 THE LIFE OF 1809.
finest specimen of the master I ever saw. Went to
Sir William Beechey's, Avith whom I staid till near
5, during which time he almost finished my portrait.
I saw Haydon's picture, and was much pleased with
it; by the glazing which he has lately given it, he
has brought out some pieces of the finest colour : I
hope the public wiU not be insensible to its merits 
4th, Took my pictures of The Rent Day and The Cut
Finger to the exhibition room of the Royal Academy.
— 6th, CaUed on Sir George Beaumont, who received
me very kindly, and showed me some pictures which
he had painted lately, and told me he should paint
me one at some future time: I was asked to dine
Avith Sir George and Lady Beaumont on Wednesday ;
Avrote a letter to Mr. PhUhps the academician. — 8th,
Painted on the family picture of the Neaves, but
I do not know that I have improved it much. — 9th,
To church, where I heard an exceUent sermon from
Mr. Dibdin, who is to be one of our preachers; he
has a fine voice, and an impressive dehvery. — 10th,
Painted in the left hand of Mrs. Neave and the
hands of the youngest girl. — 15th, Had a card
from Mr. Murray of Fleet Street, requesting me to
dine Avith him on Monday, and meet Walter Scott:
Sir George and Lady Beaumont caUed, and took me
in their carriage to see the picture of Rembrandt ; this
is a portrait of Rembrandt by himself, but larger than
nature : it possesses an ease and freedom in the hand-
Ung that surpasses any picture that I have seen of his
before — 17th, Air. Neave came Avith two of his sons,
and I painted from him for more than an hour. Went
to dine Avith Mr. Murray in Fleet Street, where I

.Et.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 233
met Air. AYestaU, Air. BaUantyne, and, for the first
time, AYalter Scott, whom I found most entertaining
in conA'ersation: he seems to possess a A'ery rich
mind, is A'ery communicative of the all but universal
knowledge he has acqidred: he talked principally
about the ancient Highlanders under the feudal sys-
tem, and enriched his observations Avith interesting
anecdotes; he repeated one of CampbeU's poems
(Lochiel's Warning). I sat tUl half-past 12. — 18th,
AYent to a place in St. Alartin's Lane to see the
pugUists sparring; it amused me whUe it lasted very
much : Gregson and several others were stripped ;
their energy and muscular action were interesting as
studies. — 19th. Painted seAen hours, and finished the
Avindow-shutter, and put in most of Airs. Neave's
shaAvl. — 20th, Had colours to grind, and did not
begin to paint tiU 10, when I finished the handker
chief, and put in the sofa. — 21st, Had a call from
Air. Reinagle, who came to make an apology for
something he was reported to have said, and which
he heard had hurt my feelings; I told him I had
nothing to complain of, except that he had spoken
his opinion of one of my pictures in my presence
Avith too Uttle consideration. Heard that Dr. Pit
cairn had died suddenly of a putrid sore throat,
which he had caught from examining the throat of a
patient suffering from that disease. — 23d, CaUed on
FuseU, Avith whom I sat some time; was introduced
to the celebrated General Aliranda ; met and con
versed for a considerable time with Callcott, the
painter. — 26th, Wrought to-day on the Turkey car
pet, but did not get much done, though very indus-

234 THE LIFE OF

1809.

trious. Met young Mr. Christie, who told me that
Mr. DaAison was sentenced to two years' imprison
ment, and to refund 18,000 pounds. — 27th, Liston
called and sat with me tiU 2, entertaining me much
with an account of Cobbett  30th, Haydon showed
me two sketches from Macbeth, which he intended
for his next picture ; I approved of one of them,
but advised him strongly to put in more figures."
On the first Monday in May the Exhibition of the
Royal Academy was opened, and the beat of many an
artist's heart was quickened Avith the hope of seeing
groups gathered around works on which they had ex
erted their skUl and exhausted their thought. From
the painter of the scriptural epic to the humble limner
of every-day faces, aU are there, to see how the select
Council have acquitted themselves of their arduous
duty of assigning to each individual picture a place ac
cording to its merits or the expectations of the artist.
From this survey it is seldom that satisfied faces
return : some come silently and suUenly away ; others
communicate their disappointment to feUow-sufferers,
and whisper their chagrin loud enough for aU to hear :
the Academician vows in secret to remember the insult
he has suffered from the Council when he is next on
the Hanging Committee: the Associate registers his
wrath to use it up when he becomes, in his turn, a
member : while the Student, who sees hundreds
stand between him and the rank of Academician, who
has already groAvn grey Avith hopes indulged in only
to be disappointed, and, in addition, is now doomed
to see the very best picture, he believes, he ever

iEr.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 235
painted defrauded of its proper position, and hung
nigh the stars, is provoked to curse the Avant of taste
and the selfishness in the " chosen Forty," and to voav
that no good can come of human study till the ranks
of the Royal Academy are extended, and works of
high merit hung in the places of honour. But these
are not aU the Uls which men Avho make art their
study are heir to: criticism, in daily, weekly, and
monthly quantities, is poured upon their productions,
and sometimes upon their persons; for the political
leaning of the painter has been made to darken or
brighten the page in which the merits of his works
are alone proposed to be discussed.
How WUkie felt when the sharp claw of criticism
was laid — which it sometimes was — on his paintings,
it is not easy to say : he was a calm-minded man, and
at present nothing occurred in the shape of remark
that was calculated to ruffle him. It is true, that
some thought his Cut Finger wanted the grasp of
mind of his Adllage Pohticians, and the poetic tran
quiUity of his Blind Fiddler, and that few were wilUng
to see in it the -sun-rise of our maritime glory ; whUe
others beheld in The Rent Day a distinct image of the
oppression which the aristocracy exercises over the
chUdren of the clouted shoe. From these critical carp-
ings Wilkie turned, not unwiUingly, to those more
equitable chipper.s and hewers, who perceived an im
provement in the draAving and the colouring of his
pictures, and an increase in the grace and propriety
of his compositions. It has been remarked, however,
that the opening of the doors of the Exhibition un
settles for a time the studies of the steadiest artists :

236 THE LIFE OF 1809.
besides the influence which this public display of their
works has upon their pictures, the sight of a fine pic
ture renders the spectator desirous to see more pro
ductions from the same hand: others, more curious
stiU, wish to see the face of those who thus charm
them with the pencU; and, as the journals which we
have quoted sufficiently prove, to partake of their
society. No wonder, then, that during May and June
artists seldom are able to settle doAvn to work, or
pursue, with their usual success, their aUotted studies.
The Journal of Wilkie, during the period of the
Exhibition, is unusuaUy barren in early risings and
long and continued sittings Avith living models before
him, and contains, indeed, few of those changes in
arrangement or shifting from one colour to another,
and tryings of effect in furniture and household
utensils, with which the earUer pages abound.
Though The Reading of the Will had, as we have seen,
been proposed to him by one who was not only an
admirer, but who felt weU where his strength lay, he
had not so much as jotted doAvn one recording sketch
of the subject : he had, hoAvever, commenced collect
ing materials for his fine picture of The Enghsh Ale
house Door, a name Ul exchanged for that of The
Village Festival; nor seemed he at all damped in his
enthusiasm about it by the remonstrances of Haydon,
for the drama of strong drink he had seen performed
in every alehouse from Cults to Canterbury ; and he
wished besides to measure himself with Teniers and
Ostade. Of the studies for this picture he enters
several intimations in his Journal : for example, on
the 13th of May he says, " I painted aU day on my

.Et.24. SIE DAVID WILKIE. 237
little sketch of The Pubhc House Door, which 1 im
proved Aery much. — 14th, Found Haydon Avaiting
for me at home ; avc Avent to Paddington to look for
a pubhc house that might do for my picture, and saAV
one that may be of service ; Avent as far as the canal,
and came back together. — 15th, Began to paint on
my sketch of The Pubhc House Door, and tried it upon
an absorbent ground  16th, Did something more to
The Public House Door  17th, Painted from 12 to
4, and put in a figure in the sketch of The PubUc
House Door. — 18th, Touched on the sketch of The
PubUc House Door, for which I also made some draw
ings  20th, Lady Alulgrave showed me a landscape
by Gainsborough, which she had purchased, the first
by that master I had ever seen : saw Air. Shee's new
poem (Rhymes on Art), in which he has done me
the honour of mentioning me in a complimentary
manner : lent Haydon my Scotch plaid for his picture
of Macbeth ; returned at 3 and painted tiU 5, on the
sketch of The Pubhc House Door. — 24th, Put in two
figures at the door of The Public House. — 27th,
Haydon caUed, and approved of what I had done to
my sketch ; I put in to-day the group where the man
is paying the money. — 29th, Air. Colborne sent me
his Ostade ; went on with my sketch, and put in the
figure of the girl with the pots. Had a pohte note
from Air. Shee in answer to the letter of thanks which
I sent him. — 31st, Put in two figures in the stair on
my sketch, and several figures at the long window.
" June 1st, Put in the girl and child in the fore
ground of the sketch. — 2d, Lord Mulgrave showed
me the picture of a fair, by Janstein, which was very

238 THE LIFE OF 1809.
finely painted. — 7th, Painted from 1 to 4 on The
Alehouse Door. — 8th, Went over aU the sky in my
sketch. — 9th, CaUed on General Miranda : he had a
French buUetin and a large map of Germany before
him, by which he endeavoured to prove that the
French had lost nothing in the last battle : he had
much energy of manner, and a great deal of gesticu
lation. Painted on The Alehouse Door tiU 4. —
18th, Haydon comes, as usual, to breakfast; and as
we went out, Cromek and Bird caUed. — 19th, ATent
to the Royal Academy, and brought away my picture
of The Cut Finger. The Rent Day had been taken
away by Lord Mulgrave himself. Put some touches
in The Cut Finger, to mend a scratch it had received
in the Exhibition. — 20th, Put in a group in the dis
tance in sketch."

iET.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 239

CHAPTER ArIlI.
AVTLKIE IN DEYOXSHTRE AND AT COLEORTON HALL. — EXTRACTS
FROM JOURNAL.  ELECTED AX ASSOCIATE OP THE ROYAL
ACADEMY.  JOURNAL CONTINUED.
Devout Cathohcs go on pilgrimage to the shrine of
a favourite saint. The battle-field where empires
have been lost and won is Aisited centuries after by
the enthusiastic soldier; the poet goes to the banks
of the Avon or the Ayr, and thinks, when he touches
the birth-places of our most inspired bards, he is
walking on holy ground : nor is a painter of any
warmth of soul at rest tiU he has, in a hke manner,
Aisited Plympton, in Devonshire, where Sir Joshua
Reynolds, the apostle of his art, was born. Stimu
lated, perhaps, by Haydon, as weU as warmed by his
oaati temperate enthusiasm about Sir Joshua and his
genius, Wilkie, accompanied by Haydon, began his
pilgrimage to the DeA'onshire shrine on Thursday, the
22d day of June 1809. Lady Alulgrave had expressed
a wish that he would paint for her coUection, now
groAving large, of Wilkie pictures and sketches, a
portrait of himself; and Lord Mulgrave, in reiterating
the Avishes of his lady, desired him to paint it in
Devonshire, a pohte way of bidding him do his best
and do it soon : he hoped inspiration from the fame of
the dead, and more from the skiU of the living. An
Ulness, brought on by close study and those doubts

240 TILE LIFE OF 1809.
and fears to which the sensitive are exposed, during
the early part of his journey, which was by land to
Portsmouth, pressed sorely on Wilkie ; but when the
vessel in which he embarked began, with a fair breeze,
to clear her way rapidly through the waters, the
cloud which hung about him began to dispel of its
oaati accord; and before reaching Plymouth, on the
28th, he wrote in his Journal, "I found myself much
better this morning, and endeavoured to sit up in the
cabin during the forepart of the day, and at noon got
upon deck." As soon as he landed, he called on the
Haydons, the Eastlakes, and Northcotes, names then
or since famous ; but Wilkie, fatigued with movements
by land and sea, kept within doors, and Avrote a letter
home, relating to his father his adventures from the
time he left London.
But before visiting the greater shrine of Reynolds,
Willde, as in courtesy bound, Aisited the place of Hay-
don's birth and breeding at Underwood ; nor did he
neglect the cottage in which he lodged while a boy, nor
the pictures at Boringdon (Lord Morley's seat), among
which he saw some, he said, by Rubens, Vandyke, and
Reynolds, which were very fine. On the 7th July, after
having bathed in the sea, he went with Haydon to
Plympton, and visited the house, then occupied by Hay-
don's schoolmaster, in which Sir Joshua was born : he
was shoAvn, he says, the room in which Sir Joshua first
saw light, and the school-room where he was educated.
As Willde was a man of no affectation, he felt himself
inwardly cheered, but exhibited no rapture. From
the Reynolds shrine he went to the HaU of Guild,
where he saw, he says, a very fine portrait of himself

.St. 24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 211
and portraits of tAvo naval officers, painted bet'ore
going to Italy, which, for composition, Avere as fine as
any thing he eA'er did afterwards. From the hall he
went to the house of an old lady, Avho showed him a
very early picture by Sir Joshua, Avhich, in spite of
want of spirit and experience of touch, had much in it
which promised future exceUence. At the residence
of Airs. Alayo he likeAvise saAV the portrait of an old
man, which, though a Uttle faded, Avas A^ery finely
painted : such was her reA'erence for it, that she
would not aUow a servant to clean it Avith either brush
or towel, but caused the dust to be bloAvn off Avith a
pair of beUows ; neA'ertheless, added WUkie, the best-
laid schemes are sometimes frustrated : a giddy house
maid drove the beUows-pipe through the canvass.
Escorted by Haydon, AYilkie visited the wooded
scenes on the banks of the river Plym, rode to the
top of Alount Edgecumbe to see the sun set, and was
almost persuaded by his companion to sit up all night
to behold a Devonshire day break and a cloudless sun
arise. These reA'eries were interrupted by North-
cote, who joined them in a stroU, and amused them
much by varied powers of conversation, but pained
Wilkie by endeavouring to persuade them that much
which the church believed was untrue. In a visit to
Sir Richard Elford, he paused for a moment, he says,
to look at the native place of Sir Francis Drake, and
listened with much pleasure to the entertaining anec
dotes which Sir Richard, during dinner, related of
Sir Joshua, whom he kneAv, and of Johnson, Burke,
Goldsmith, and Garrick, whom he had seen ; but of
these Wilkie has preserved no sample. For this we are
vol. i. R

242 THE LIFE OF 1809.
sorry; but he has our praise for refraining from re
membering the acrid discussions of Northcote and his
coterie, who entered upon the bitter subject of politics
with as little temper and moderation as I ever remem
ber. Nor was his dislike confined to any one set of
ministers, or to any one form of government ; aU es
tabUshed authorities — the church, the law, the army,
the navy — were alike subjected to his animadversions ;
while the hatred Avhich he felt for men at home was
balanced by his admiration of Napoleon and his go
vernment. In these sentiments the coterie of North
cote shared, and " I left them with less regret," says
Wilkie, " than I should have done if their convers
ation had been less violent."
Of this visit to Devonshire, which lasted about a
month, Wilkie speaks with much pleasure, though he
confesses that the acrid conversations with Northcote
Avere some alloy. As he went partly with the hope
of amending his health, he rode much through the
country, and, what was equally beneficial, bathed
frequently in the sea, which, chilly at first, felt com
fortable afterwards and invigorating. He seems to
have given his pencil a complete holiday ; for, saving
a draAving of Harriet Haydon, on which he confesses
he failed to please himself, he made no increase to his
list of works ; nor did the portrait which Lady Mul
grave hoped for, and which he probably never thought
seriously about, occur to his memory. On the 28th
we find him passing " through a hiUy country, afford
ing rapid gUmpses of beauty; but these, beautiful as
they were, are inferior to the vieAV of Exeter, Avith its
fine river and cathedral, and its fine villages cluster-

iET.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 243
ing round it, mingled Avith plantations and groves."
On his Avay home he halted to see WeUs Cathedral,
of Avhich he says, u the choir is A'ery rich and elegant,
and, Avith the stained glass AvindoAvs of the adjoining
chapel, produced the most enchanting effect I ever
Avitnessed. We rode next to Glastonbury, and saw
the remains of the Abbey, said to be the oldest in
England : the remains testify its ancient splendour."
He continued his journey by Bath, Avhich he caUs
one of the finest cities he had eA'er seen ; " certainly,"
he adds, " not so remarkable in its situation as Edin
burgh ; but the houses are richer in architecture, and
better buUt : " and after haA'ing hstened to much
music, Avhich he loved, from various instruments, he
left Bath, and had the long way to London cheered
by a talkative Scotchman, who told him droll stories
of the various lands in which he had traveUed.
" One of his stories," adds Wilkie, " is worthy of
being remembered. — 'An Irish friend of his,' he said,
' was one day leaning carelessly over the parapet of a
bridge in a town through which he was travelling,
when a Araluable ring dropped from his finger, and
disappeared in the stream. Now, you must know
that this stream was famous for its fish, and it was
the custom to dress those which Avere newest caught
for dinner ; when he sat doAvn to dine, a large fish
newly caught was placed before him; and what do
you think he found in its belly — the devil a thing
but its guts ! ' " Wilkie arrived in London on the 3d
of August, and immediately resumed his studies.
It was one of this great artist's maxims never to be
idle: in the midst of a conversation, even on his
r 2

244 THE LIFE OF 1809.
favourite pursuit, he would suddenly break off, and
saying, " This is a sad waste of time," snatch up his
palette, and recommence his work. Though he had
resolved to fulfil his promise, and visit, early in
harvest, Coleorton HaU, the residence of his steadfast
friend Sir George Beaumont, he, in obedience to his
OAvn maxim, did not aUow the intermediate time to fly
idly by ; he touched and retouched his picture of The
Cut Finger ; he reconsidered his sketches and sepa
rate groupings for The Ale House Door, and he
visited Burnet oftener than once to see his progress
with the plate of The Jew's Harp — the first of his
works on which he ventured the graver. I say ven
tured, for it was not Avithout consideration that he
took any step connected Avith his works ; and we have
seen that he more than hstened to the experienced
counsel of Sir George Beaumont, to have none of his
pictures engraved but by a masterly hand. That he
thought weU of the skiU of his feUow-student, the
entries in his Journal show: — "August 6th, CaUed
on Burnet, and saw his plate of The Jew's Harp,
which I examined A'ery carefuUy, and was much
pleased Avith it, as far as it is gone. He is engraving
it in the most careful manner, and with a A'ery close
hne, but very sharp and spirited Avithal. I knoAv not
hoAV far I can depend upon the judgment that may
be formed of it in its present state ; but I think if he
finishes it as he has begun, he wUl do himself consi
derable credit." As he worked at the plate, he looked
too at the picture, and, as usual, saAV somethmg to
amend or correct. On the 7th of August he Avrites,
" Went over a good deal of The Jew's Harp to-day;"

.Lt.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 245
and after holding another conference Avith Burnet on
the plate, and touching it in several places, visiting
Alexander DaAison in prison, into Avhich a law-suit
had cast him, and lookmg at the neAv -erected bronze
statue of the Duke of Bedford by AVestmacott, and
confessing his inabUity to see the merits of sculpture
in dark metal so reachly as in Avhite marble, he set
off for the seat of the Beaumonts, near AshbA'-de-la-
Zouch, which, accompanied by Haydon, he reached
on the 14th of August.
In the old castle of Southampton he had shared
in the hospitahties of the noble famUy of Lansdowne,
which, though circumscribed by the hermit-like cha
racter of the place, were elegant as weU as pleasing ;
but in the more magnificent mansion of Coleorton,
in society more akin to his own heart, and in scenes
rendered classical by the muse of painting as weU as
of poetry, he experienced that stUl higher enjoyment
which the inteUectual alone can add to high descent
and to elegant hospitality. This is a place of romantic
beauty; the muses of the Beaumonts in the olden,
and that of Wordsworth in these latter times, have
united to render its groves, and lawns, and hUls, and
streams, renoAvned ; whUe the soft rich sward AA'hich
carpeted the laAvns and slopes ; the old woods and
p-roA'es, Avith branches touching the backs of the
Avild deer which browsed below; the classic altars
and A-ases which were to be found in the glades ;
the Avinding streams and unlooked-for waterfaUs,
 together with the agreeable conversations on
painting and poetry, in Avhich the accomplished
owners indulged him, made a lasting impression

246 THE LIFE OF 1809.
on the mind of AVilkie. I may now allow the great
painter to relate his own story. I transcribe his own
words.

Journal.
"August 14th, Reached Coleorton HaU at 11 o'clock:
Dance, who designed it, has acquitted himself weU:
Ave found it most spacious and magnificent. We were
most kindly received by Sir George and Lady Beau
mont. We entered first through a large portico into
the lobby, which leads into a splendid haU Ughted
from the ceUing. Round the haU is a suite of rooms
fitted up in the most elegant manner. The rooms
above are chiefly bed-rooms, whUe at the top of aU is
the painting room of Sir George himself. We next
went round the cottages in the neighbourhood, some
of which I intend to make studies of. The country
around is picturesque, and rather richly wooded ; and,
as we have the advantage of seeing it from an emi
nence, the distance softens it to the eye, and helps to
render it less rugged than any other part of the coun
try which we came through between this and London.
— 15th, Went and began a sketch of an old cottage
close to the house. Continued painting tUl 3, and
Avas visited once or tAvice by Lady Beaumont, also by
an old gardener, whom I found to be a Scotsman,
and a rather intelligent person. While at dinner we
received the welcome news that Sir A. WeUesley had
gained a complete victory over the French in Spain.
Sir George read us during the evening a scene or two
from one of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. —

-Et. 24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 217
16th, Put in to-day the sky to the background of The
Cottage. — 17th, Began to paint in the Avinter-garden,
and fimshed the sketch of The Cottage. I Avas to-day
surprised by a voice Avhich called me from the ter
race ; on lookhig up, I saAv it Avas Air. AMiitbread and
his famUy, who came from a tour through Derby
shire : they Avere very kind. I Avalked with them till
Ave found Sir George and Lady Beaumont, who con
ducted them into the house and round the rooms :
they saAv the pictures, too, with Avhich they Avere
much pleased. We dined, and then walked out, and
admired a scene, AAith aU its trees, and water, and cot
tages, which was about half a mUe from the house.
Sir George read us, in the course of the evening, a
few scenes from Shakspeare. — 18th, Finished The
Cottage sketch, and standing on the bank which over
looks the Avinter garden, I saw a distant landscape,
broken by trees and cottages in the foreground, which
seemed weU calculated to accompany the sky which I
had painted. When I had put it in, I took it into the
house and compared it Avith Sir George's Rubens, and
made such alterations as the study of that great mas
ter suggested. When we had dined, we took a walk
to the farm-house, where we saAV, besides some very
fine trees, a pigeon house which I think will suit me
exactly. — 19th, Began to paint at 10 at The Gardener's
Cottage, and continued tUl I finished the sketch which
I began yesterday, though much interrupted by rain.
In the evening I amused myself by looking, with
Haydon, over Hogarth's prints, and Sir George read
us Wordsworth's poem of "The Thorn." — 20th. In
a walk aU round the fields Ave saw a farm-house Avith
r 4

248 THE LIFE OF 1809.
a group of the most picturesque trees I ever beheld;
nor did Ave fail to perceive that the farm-house itself
was remarkably clean and neat. At the door of an
other house we found a draw-well, Avith household
utensils beside it, arranged in such a manner that, if
time aUows, I shaU make a study of it. In the even
ing Sir George desired aU the servants to come in,
Avhen Lady Beaumont read to us part of the church
service, and Sir George read a sermon. I was highly
gratified with this devotional duty, which I had never
before Avitnessed in any part of England. — 21st, Had
a walk with Sir George and Lady Beaumont in the
fields this evening : looked through the telescope at
the moon, which shone uncommonly clear. Sir George
then read us that paper in the Spectator which gives
an account of Sir Roger de Coverley's visit to the
theatre. — 22d, Went and painted from the group of
trees at the farm, and made an useful sketch. — 23d,
AYent to paint the well at the house which I saw on
the 20th. The woman of the house aUowed me to sit
within the door ; she tanked incessantly to me aU day ;
she Avas such a dame as I should suppose the neat
herd's Avife Avas who scolded Alfred about burning her
cakes. Yet, for aU her roughness of manner, she
shoAved me much kindness. A young woman came
in with a very beautiful countenance and a young
child at her breast, daughter-in-law to the old woman.
I succeeded in hitting off this httle rustic scene to my
satisfaction. AYhen I returned, I found that Sir George
had gone a great way in the picture he is painting
for me. Sir George in the evenmg read us Addison's
comedy of The Drummer  24th, Painted for an hour

-Et.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 249
before breakfast at the AvindoAv of The Gardener's
Cottage. Sir George iu the evening read us from
Holinshed the account of Alacbeth, Avhich supplied
Shakspeare with materials for his tragedy. The simi
larity of many of the circmnstances, and some of the
expressions, is surprising. — 25th, Alade some sketches
of A'arious scenes: finished that of the weU; and in
troduced it as a background to a sketch of Airs.
Knight, Avith whom I had a bicker about rehgion,
very Aiolent, yet A'ery civil. — 26th, I began to
paint, but as I was rubbing in the broken surface
of a sandy road for a foreground, I was told that
Lady Beaumont Avished me to paint a gipsy-woman
who was then_ in the house. I went at once : this
woman seemed a singular character. I sketched in
the head, and as her chUd lay sucking at the breast
I put it in also, although it had nothing interesting
in its appearance. I finished this sketch a good deal
to my satisfaction, and for the first time tried the
effects of yeUow lake on the flesh, Avhich even sur
passed my expectations. It has the singular quality
of giA-ing a warm and fleshy tone Avithout the heavi
ness which I haA'e found inseparable from all other
yeUows. — 27th, Lady Beaumont requested me to
read after breakfast AYordsworth's Preface to his
Poems, which, Avith some of the poems to which it
aUuded, and a letter in the poet's hand-Avriting, I read
accordingly ; but could not be brought at aU to coin
cide with the fundamental principles of his system, or
to admire as elegant the pieces which are pointed out
as examples of his style. This Avas not, hoAvever, the.
case Avith her ladyship, who admires Wordsworth's

250 THE LIFE OF 1809.
productions next to those of Shakspeare and MUton.
I rode with Sir George to the distance of three ndles,
where we saAv some rocks which Haydon has been
painting : they are both massy and rugged. We had
a beautiful view from this spot of Coleorton and the
more distant country. On our way home we passed
an old abbey in ruins : the chief circumstance which
renders it interesting is, that it is the birth-place of
the celebrated Beaumont, who wrote in conjunction
Avith Fletcher. After making some hasty sketches of
these interesting ruins, and looking at some cottages
Avhich Avere very picturesque, Ave got home early in
the evening."
Willde, Avith his companion, left Coleorton HaU on
the 27th of August.
This visit was long held in remembrance. " The
pleasure," says Sir George, " which your visit gave
us avUI not soon pass from our minds, and I cannot
but look forward with pleasure to the time you are
to paint a picture here. I hope you AviU not defer it
too long, for at my time of life, and Avith my con
stitution, it Avould be presumptuous to promise myself
many years ; as long, hoAvever, as it pleases God to
spare my life, I shaU be happy to see you. I hope
you have finished your task, and are proceeding AAith
the Avork of your heart. ," That the pleasure afforded
was mutual, the following letter more than shoAvs : —

-F.T.24. Sill DAA'ID WILKIE. 251

TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Aly dear Sir. *4. Portland Street, Sept. 16. 1809.
I am dehghted that our visit to Coleorton
should be remembered by you AAith such expressions
of satisfaction. To us it has been a constant and in
exhaustible subject for conversation since our return,
and, for my OAvn part, I do not recoUect any time I
haA'e spent Avith more pleasure, or reflected on Avith
greater dehght. I should on this account be very
sorry indeed, should no future prospect present itself
of another visit, and of painting your second picture
at Coleorton ; but for other reasons more important,
though less interested than this, do I hope and pray,
that health and long life may still be in reserve
for you.
I expected the sketches would retain their softness
for some time ; the egg varnish wiU certainly prevent
aU bad consequences, and we shall esteem it a great
favour if you avUI put it over them.
I was surprised to learn that the canvass and
colours had not arrived, knoAving that Haydon had
ordered them to be sent more than a week ago, but,
on making enquiry at BroAvn's, I found that he had,
by mistake, sent them by coach to Dunmow, instead
of Coleorton, ten days ago. AYe agreed, however,
that they could be got as soon back from Dunmow as
new ones could be prepared, and that if BroAvn Avrote
for them to-day, which he promised to do, they might
come back on Monday evening, and be sent by the
coach to Ashby on Wednesday. I shaU caU again on

252 THE LIFE OF 1809.
Monday. AYe are very sorry that by this oversight
you should be prevented beginning the Avork you had
in Aiew. I know what sort of disappointment it is
that arises from hope deferred.
I think Avith much pleasure on the honour you
haA'e done me, by painting the picture of the bridge
for me: I suppose you haA^e now completed it. I
have got so far on AAith the portraits that I expect to
have them finished by the end of next week. D. W.
AYith AVilkie's arrival in London a labour of a new
kind awaited him ; this was, to render himself accept
able to the members of the Royal Academy, and be
admitted into their ranks as an Associate. One would
suppose that genius alone, and those proofs of genius —
works of a high order, were aU that was necessary for
this purpose. Far be it from me to say that such is
not sufficient ; but it sometimes happens, that all the
members, even of the Royal Academy, faU to feel alike
on tlie great question of merit, and those who con
tinue obstinate require to be won or moUified by per
suasive words, or the more persuasive courtesies of
the table ; and even when the best is done that the best
can do, the election may not be unanimous. Members
might be named, who won their election more through
a fortunate legacy than their fine limning, and who
Avere indebted more to the charms of their Avine than
their Avorks for their admission among the Forty.
Noav AVUkie, as his Journal proA'es, readily and fre
quently admitted felloAv-labourers in the cause of art
to his breakfast, and supper board ; but a dinner,

JEt.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 253
and a dinner, too, to those accustomed to the splen
dour of titled men's tables, A\as in those days, perhaps,
a flight beyond the means of AYUkie, or unsuitable to
the condition of one who hved in lodgings of no lofty
order ; but though he resorted not to that easy but
expensive species of persuasion, he did not disdain,
though proud, to use other means; for it must be
owned that he hoped for, as soon as he became of
Academic age, the distinction of Associate. Nor is
this said in reproach : he had achieved works above
the ordinary standard by which the altitude of Asso
ciates are measured ; therefore he deserved what he
desired: and as he kneAv the influence which such
marks of distinction have with the world, he did but
justice to himself to seek it ; and had it been with
held, he woidd have had reason to complain that his
merit had been defrauded of its dues.
It is not uninstructive to trace the progress of
Wilkie tOAvards this distinction. His punctual at
tendance as a student had been observed by many of
the academicians: the amenity of his manners had
even touched the fierce Fuseh and the surly North
cote; wddle the Aigour and variety of his genius —
acknowledged by the mob — had at last exacted ap
probation from the Academy, a body ever afraid of
giving undue influence to young merit by early
praise. Sometime in the early part of this year Fuseh, in his
between jest and earnest way, adAised Wilkie to put doAvn
his name as a candidate for the vacant Associateship :
Farrington, Avith more sincerity, gave him similar ad
vice : Sir AYilliam Beechey added his voice in private to

254 THE LIFE OF 1809.
theirs ; and in May, when the Exhibition opened, Phillips,
(a candid man,) in a private conversation, advised him
never to allow any one to persuade him to exert his
influence with the council in the arrangement of the
works of art ; such a proceeding was clearly uncon
stitutional : he took the hberty of saying this, because,
as he would soon become a member of the Academy
himself, he would feel the disadvantage of such inter
ference. Willde understood his courteous monitor,
and bowed, and felt, he said, sure now of his election.
On the 7th of July, whUe at Plymouth, he Avrote to
his friend Jackson, requesting him to cut his signature
from the letter, and put it into the book of the Royal
Academy, then opened for the names of candidates
for the Associateship. Amongst those who thought
he merited admission to the Academy we must place
NoUekens, the sculptor, a blunt man, but a good
judge, and fond of lending the help of a good word
to the deserving. " Young man," said the uncere
monious Joseph, " I expect soon to see you a member
among the best on 'em — mind that." At length,
on the 3d of November, WUkie, after a conversation
with Sir WiUiam Beechey, in which the latter told
him that some of the academicians were so much dis
pleased at his refraining from calhng on them, that it
Avas likely they would Avithhold their votes from him
at the ensuing election, saUied out, and caUed on Far-
rington, Woodford, and Northcote : he found the tAvo
latter at home. Next morning he recommenced his
" progress" among the brethren, and called on Flax
man, Sir Francis Bourgeois, and Sir AVilliam Beechey,
whom he found at home. At Turner and AYyatt's

JEt. 24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 255
he left his card. WestaU, Stothard, and NoUekens,
receiA'ed him, he said, Avith great kindness. AYest,
Thomson, Howard, Shee, and Phillips, Avere either
unweU, engaged, or out of town. With Copley,
Tresham, Fuseh, Gandy, Richards, CosAvay, and
Sinirke, he was more fortunate. " I concluded my
day's labours."' he adds, '• by caUing on LaAvrence,
Hoppner, and Dance, none of whom I saw. AU these
caUs I accompUshed between 9 and 4. Hoppner, I
was sorry to learn, was Ul, and groAving daUy worse."
The election took place on the 6th of November, and
next day the foUowing communication came to him
from the Academy : —

TO MR. D. WTLKLE.
gij. Royal Academy, Nov. 7. 1809.
I haAe the pleasure of informing you that,
at the Assembly of the Academicians, held yesterday,
for the election of two Associates, you and Air. George
Dawe were the successful candidates.
J. Richards, R.A., Secretary.
" I hope," said Sir George Beaumont, in the last
letter of his quoted, " you have finished your task,
and are now proceeding with the work of your heart."
The task, we fear, refers to the portrait group of the
Neave Family : the work of the heart, we doubt not,
was the famous picture caUed The Alehouse Door:
it has already dawned upon us in the sketch: we
must foUow it in the picture ; the daily growth of the

256 THE LIFE OF 1809.
flower of the held is not more natural, nor half so
slow.

Journal.
" September 29th, I this day began my picture of
The Alehouse Door. After employing some time
in preparing colours, I chalked it out on the canvass,
to assist me in which I dotted out the picture and
the sketch into several compartments. I began by
rubbing in all the shadows with umber, and the
hghts with white, and succeeded in getting in the
principal group  30th, Mr. Neave came Avith his
youngest daughter, whom he left with a lady to sit
with me tUl two. I went on Avith the hand, which I
had already begun, and tried a new way of proceed
ing, by touching the colour in a much more dehcate
manner, which produced a good deal of that meUow-
ness which I have so often admired in Sir Joshua
Reynolds; but though the hand is better painted, I
fear it is scarcely so Uke as it was before. When my
sitter went away, I recommenced the picture of The
Alehouse Door, to which I added the landlord — the
figure before him and the negro's head, which I took
the precaution to soften down with the SAveetener, to
prevent the surface interrupting me in the finishing.
" October 2d, Began to paint after breakfast, and
continued from that time till 4 on The Alehouse Door ;
put in the figures at the door of the house and those
on the balcony above, which, Avith some alterations
in some of the figures at the Avindow was all I did
to-day  3d, Began to paint at 10; went on Avith

JEt.24. SIR DAATD WILKIE. 257
the woman leading her husband away, and put in
the group of people paying the pot-girl behind, Avhich
occupied untU 4. — 4th, I put in to-day the group
of chUdren in the foreground of the picture, the old
woman behind the drunken man, and tAvo figures
going up the stair in the back-ground ; the latter of
which I altered from the sketch, by putting them
further up the stair. — 5th, Put in the group with
the man and the bagpipes in the back ground, and
the figures on the staircase and in the Avindows in
front of the picture. — 6th, Put into my picture to
day the tops of the houses, the trees, and the sky;
after which I went over, with a coat of colour, the
hands of some of the females, to get rid of the rough
and starved appearance of the canvas. Had a caU
from Mr. Young, who brought me an impression of
the plate from Sir WUham Beechey's portrait of me,
to touch in some figures behind. — 7th, Had a walk
on the Paddington road before breakfast, and began
to paint at 9 ; but finding the head of the principal
figure not dry, I did not proceed to finish it as I
intended; I therefore went over a number of the
hands with a second coat, to give them body and
firmness, and concluded the day's work by making
drawings of the hands of the man who is holding the
principal figure. — 8th, Haydon came to breakfast,
and approved of what I had done of my picture very
highly. Went and saw Haydon's picture of Macbeth ;
he had laid it on in a very clear and brilliant manner,
and had begun another sketch, which he had touched
in with the general effect in a style that gave me a
much higher idea of his powers for colouring and
VOL. i. s

258 THE LIFE OF 1809.
handling than any thing I had yet seen of his. He
has not yet succeeded with the figure of Macbeth;
but his sketchings in of the Duncan and the youths
are admirable. I left him in earnest debate Avith
Whitfield and Calendar about the figure of Macbeth.
Dined Avith Lord and Lady Mulgrave at Fulham. —
9th, CaUcott called, and made some observations on
my picture of the Alehouse Door that may be of use:
he thought the buildings behind rather too much
broken, and that some of the Ughts which were not
near the centre, should be kept doAvn. Had a caU
from Andrew Wilson, who thought the figures in the
fore-ground of the picture looked rather large. Was
engaged to-day entirely painting the head of the
principal figure, which has puzzled me beyond any
thing, and I cannot get satisfied with it. Coxe caUed
in the evening, and displayed great powers of con
versation. — 10th, Sent for an old man to come and
sit ; began to paint at 9, and continued tiU near 5, and
went over the Avhole head I had faded in yesterday,
and think I have been more successful. I put in the
hat and neck of the figure also. — 11th, The old man
came at 9 ; he sat for the hands of the man pulling
the principal figure, which I went over again, and
did no more to-day. Dined with the Thistle Club;
had some agreeable conversation of a local nature. I
wished much to get a smock-frock to paint my prin
cipal figure in, but have not yet succeeded. — 12th,
The old man came at 10, and sat till near 4. I
painted from him the left hand of the principal figure,
and the two hands laid on his left shoulder, and the
hand of the figure puUing him on the right. I had

Mt.24. SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 259
a call from Air. Dobree ; he asked me to dine with
him at Clapton on Sunday se'nnight. Lord Mulgrave
caUed, and Avished me, as he had done before, to paint
my OAvn portrait sitting Avith a picture before me,
which I might be supposed to be showing to the
spectator; he repeated a A\ish, Avhich he has often
urged, that I should raise the price of my pictures.
— 13th, I began to paint from the old man Morely,
who sat from 10 tiU 4. I painted in the coat of the
figure pulling at the principal character, which I
think I have succeeded in tolerably weU. — 14th, Had
a walk before breakfast, and began to paint soon after
9. Alv female model came at 10, and I painted from
her the neck and arms of the Uttle girl puUing the
principal figure homeward, but finding that a better
model for the hair might be had, I rubbed it out again.
CaUed on Haydon, and found him in strong debate with
A\ nitfield and Eastlake, in which I took a part : Haydon
has improved his picture much. — 16th, Painted from
models the petticoat and gown of the little girl puUing
the principal figure in my picture. On my way home
from tOAvn, I bought the smock frock for thirteen
shUlings which I so much wanted to work from 
17th, The old man Alorely came, and I began to paint
from him, and put in the legs of the man puUing the
principal figure. Air. Neave and his daughter Char
lotte came ; I put in her head-gear, and, if any thing,
rather improved the group. Wrote to my sister
Helen. — 18th, Painted from old Morely; but while I
painted, perceiving that my centre group did not
unite naturaUy enoughw ith the others, I resolved to
alter the figure I had begun. I made a new arrange-
s 2

260 THE LIFE OF 1809.
ment, and in the course of the day painted the figure
entirely anew. Burnet, brought me an impression of
The Jew's Harp, Avith the Avriting at the bottom ; saw
Mrs. Jackson and her sister, who has a remarkably
fine hand ; I asked her to sit to me on Friday, to
Avhich she consented. — 19th, Old Alorely sat to me
the whole day, and I put in the smock frock, aU but
the left arm, which I have reserved tUl the Avoman's
hands are done. I put in also the foot of the princi
pal figure, and the hand that comes behind his head.
Had a caU from Lady Margaret Cameron, who came
to see the Neave picture ; she seemed, on the whole,
pleased with it. — 20th, Airs. Jackson and her sister
came, when I began the hand of the principal woman
of my picture from Aliss Charlotte. Old Alorely came
as they went, and sat Avith me tUl I put in the head
which is seen behind the group puUing the prmcipal
figure ; I also put in the hand of the same figure
holding the hat. — 21st, Alade drawings of hands to
day tiU eleven, when Airs. Jackson and Aliss Fletcher
came ; the latter sat to me tiU I Avent over the whole
face of the principal female figure, but I could not
get the character of the hand so weU as that of the
sketch ; I was therefore obliged to rub out aU that I
had done these tAvo days at the hand. On account of
an indisposition arising from a cold, I dined at home,
and employed myself during the evening hi draAving
hands for my picture. — 2 2d, Alade some changes in
the arrangement of my Alehouse Door, which Hay
don approved of. — 23d, I Avent over from nature a
great part of the little girl puUing the man by the
hand ; particularly the feet, and petticoat, and frock,

-Et.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 261
which I think I have improved. I then began on one
of the hands of the woman holding the man's arm,
but did not get it finished. — 24th, Tried the effect of
a bonnet hanging OA-er the little girl's shoulder, Avhich
I thought looked very weU. I went on Avith the
hands of the principal female figure, which I finished,
and afterwards tried to finish the face, which I think
I haA'e done tolerably weU. — 25th. Old Morely
came, and I began to paint ; I went OAer the whole of
the smock frock and legs of the figure puUing him by
the arm : and as far as the alterations go, they are an
improvement. — 26th. Old Alorely came, and I began
to paint the head behind the principal figure, which I
finished, and went on with the clenched fist on the
other side of the principal figure and the arm behind
it. I endeavoured last of aU to finish the face of the
man puUing at the arm, but was obhged to rub out
the whole I did. — 27th, Took a walk in the morning ;
and after a drink of new milk, began to paint from old
Alorely, and touched on seAeral places in the group
behind the principal figure ; when he went away, I
painted from nature the neck of the principal female
figure, Avith her cap and blue handkerchief, in which I
succeeded tolerably weU. Liston caUed, and I got him
to sit for a few minutes in the attitude of the figure I
intend for him in the picture. — 28th, Had a walk to
the dairy and began to paint the hair of the girl in
the group, the handkerchief round the neck, the yeUow
goAvn and petticoat, in aU of which I Avas tolerably
successful. — 29th, Went to church A\ith my brother
Thomas, and heard a very good sermon. CaUed at
Hoppner's ; he was rather better ; saw a A'andyke,
s 3

262 THE LIFE OF 1809.
which I think very fine. — 30th, Touched several
parts of the first group tUl Liston came, and I began
his head ; he sat till three, and I got the head aU put
in, but not finished. After he went away, I laid in
all the rest of the figures, which I improved very
much in the disposition. I found Liston very agree
able; he talked on several subjects, and more parti
cularly on the rise of the prices in the New Theatre,
in which he very naturaUy incUned to the side of the
managers. — 31st, Haydon caUed; he thought I should
get a good deal more expression into Liston's face.
Had a person from the public house over the way to
sit, and I endeavoured to put in Liston's hands, but
only succeeded Avith that one holding the bottle.
" November 1st. — I began Avith Liston's right hand,
but could not at aU succeed : I rubbed it out ; tried
again, with no better fortune. I then went on with
the blue jacket, the left side of which I got in tolerably
well : finished by making some sketches on paper for
the picture. — 2d, Began to paint at 9 ; and as Morely
was iU, sent for his old jacket, and began to paint
from it, when Liston came. I began on his head,
and went over it again, and put into it a great deal
more expression than it had. Mr. Neave caUed, and
proposed that his daughter a month hence should
give me another sitting — no very agreeable prospect
to look forward to. Put in part of my picture by
candle-light. — 3d, My model came at 12, and I went
on finishing the blue jacket. I began then to recon
sider several parts of my picture — I am afraid the
head I have painted from Liston is too large, and the
figure altogether too thick: the hand holding the

Mt.24. sir davtd wilkie. 263
bottle is certainly too large, and the bottle itself too
small  5th, Coxe caUed, and read to me a poem
which he had been writing. — 6th, The model came,
and I went on painting from him the whole day, and
put in the right, hand of Liston's figure, and began to
finish the head of 1dm who is pulling the principal
character. Made some different arrangements in my
picture AAith candle-Ught. — 7 th, Liston came, and sat
for an hour : I went over part of his face, and put a
Uttle more drunkenness into the looks. — 8th, My old
male model came, and I painted in the legs of the
figure of Liston. Wrote to my father, saying that I
was now an Associate of the Academy. — 9th, Began
to the head of the landlord in my picture : the head
occupied me aU day ; but I think I have got the cha
racter required  10th, Painted the hands of the
landlord, which, with the bottle and glass, and part
of the coat, was aU I did to-day. — 11th, Went
over aU the body of the landlord. Had a caU from
Air. Dawe, who stayed with me rather longer than
I liked. Inquired at the Admiralty for Lady Mul
grave : I was sorry to find she was not recovering.
— 12th, Sat during two hours to Robertson for my
miniature. Sat some time with Northcote, and cer
tainly admired his conversation a good deal. CaUed
on Haydon, who told me he Uked my landlord better
than any other head I had painted  1 3th, Put
in the hand and head of the young man opposite the
landlord. — 14th, Began to paint from the black man,
and continued tUl 4. I have painted the head not
amiss, but too large, I fear. — 15th, Called to make my
acknowledgments to the Royal Academicians for hav-
s 4

264 THE LIFE OF 1809..
ing made me an Associate. On calhng on Shee, whom
I now saw for the first time, I was received by him in
the most kind manner. I found myself obhged to
rub out the black's head entirely; it was too large,
and the figure too taU. — 16th, The black came at 9. I
kept him till 4 ; in which time I painted his head and
right hand, and succeeded pretty weU in both. I went
to the shop of a Jew, and bought a pair of velveteen
small clothes to paint from : I also bought a jacket and
apron for the same purpose. — 17th, Put in the jacket
and apron of the young figure opposite the landlord*
— 18th, Put in part of the jacket, and painted the trou
sers and feet of the young figure opposite the landlord.
Cleghorn called, and took away a proof impression of
The Jew's Harp, for which he paid one guinea. Sat
beside Haydon tiU he made a draAving of my hand. —
20th, Painted in the legs of the black, but was not so
successful with the trousers, having a bad material to
copy them from. Made some new arrangements about
the hands of the group. Went to the Academy, and
heard a lecture by Carhsle on anatomy, which struck
me as a very inefficient one indeed : he concluded by
illustrating part of his subject with a drawing, which
being in invisible ink excited great applause. — 21st,
Put in the left hand of the black, and the jacket ; feel
afraid that this figure is too large. — 22d, Alade an
attempt to finish Liston's head, but did not succeed.
I then put in the left hand of the back figure holding
the glass, and that was aU my day's work. Had a
call from James Wardrop, Avho brought his sister with
him  23d, Old Morely came, from AA'hom I finished
the right leg of the back figure, and painted over the

iET.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 265
apron of the landlord ; Avent over the group of figures
behind that of Liston, and made them a little smaller ;
rubbed out Liston's right hand, and made some draAv
ings for the right hand of the young figure, which is
unfinished.— 24th, Painted the foot and hand of the
back figure, and the night-cap of the landlord. Alade a
slight drawing of the back figure, Avith alterations in
the right arm and hand, which gives a great deal more
spirit to the group. I made a draAving of a hand
also for a figure behind. — 25th, Succeeded in putting
in the figure smoking the pipe behind the landlord.
Tried the effect of the alteration of the arm of the
back figure, but am not sure it avUI do. — 27th, Began
to paint from old Alorely, and painted the figure look
ing in at the Avindow, which I nearly finished. Liston
came, and I went OA'er the face, but I do not think I
am succeeding weU Avith it. Flaxman sent by me
a one-pound note to the female model, tUl the council
of the Academy should meet, when he promised to
present a petition for her. — 28th, Pamted on the
figure looking out at the Avindow, and the head of the
A'oung man Avith whom he is conversing ; made some
sketches of the group in the balcony. — 29th, Finished
the young figure in the third group : did something to
the figure looking in at the AvindoAv, and painted some
heads intended to be seen through the glass. — 30th,
Finished the figure talking to the landlady ; saw Hay
don, who told me, that in consequence of alterations
he had made in his Alacbeth, he intended to begin it
anew, and had ordered a canvas for the purpose : he
advised me to lessen the figures of the group I have
just finished, Avhich I intend to do. Had a note from

266 THE LIFE OF 1809.
Mr. Richards, requesting my attendance at the Royal
Academy to receive my diploma and sign my obliga
tions. " December 1st, Rubbed out the group at the Avin
dow, and put in the old man looking in, from old
Morely. Had a call from Seguier, who advised me
to strengthen the figure sitting at the table. Went
to the Academy, and was pohtely received by Flax
man, who read the obligation, which I signed, when I
was presented Avith my diploma by Sir WUham
Beechey, who acted as president in the absence of
West : that done, I had the honour of shaking hands
with the council ; and so ended the ceremony. — 2d,
Finished the young figure at the Avindow. Painted
over Liston's head, and altered the character quite :
if I can keep the sort of head I have indicated, it wUl
do. Made some changes in the arrangement of the
figures at the door on the left-hand side of the pic
ture. — 3d, Had an interview Avith Lord Mulgrave at
the Admiralty; and helped Seguier to arrange the
pictures and sketches I had painted  4th, Began to
paint from a lusty woman, who sat to me aU day for
the head and neck of the landlady in my picture. I
put in the parts pretty well. I laid in some grounds
by candle Ught  5th, Painted the head I had in
tended for Liston, and put in a character which I
think wiU do very weU. Made a sketch on mUlboard
of the figure in the blue jacket, to try how it would
look in a different attitude. — 6th, Painted the head
and hand of the man looking out of the window in
the third group ; and the hat of the. man in the blue
jacket; but have not done any thing to the legs.

-3Et.24. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 267
Made a drawing of the landlady's hands for use to
morrow. — 8th, Painted to-day the legs of the figure
in the blue jacket, which I think look tolerably AveU.
— 9th, Painted tUl 2, and only succeeded in getting
in the right hand of the figure in the blue jacket :
Seguier caUed, and approved of Avhat I had done, but
Avished me to keep the shadows as transparent as pos
sible : Avent Avith him to Hope's, where I looked for a
long time at the httle Ostade, which astonished me
very much : it seems to be produced by very thin
and clear coats of paint. — 11th, Painted the blue
jacket from old Alorely. Had a caU from Mr. An-
nesley. who desired me to get a frame for his picture
of The JeAv's Harp. The Earl of Essex caUed: I
showed his lordship the picture, which he seemed to
Uke a good deal, and said he should be glad of the
refusal of it, which I told him I could not absolutely
promise. As usual, touched upon my picture by
candle hght. — 12th, Painted in the figure behind
the landlady at the door, but did not succeed with it.
— 13th, Painted the head of the man drinking at the
door, and his hands. Touched some parts of my
picture, and proposed some alterations in the hands
and head I had painted in the morning, namely, to
make the man in the act of drinking the liquor, in
stead of holding it near his mouth. — 14th, Painted
the hands and dress of the man sitting at the door of
the pubhc-house, and the coat of the man within the
door. — 15th, Went over the hat of the back figure
sitting at the table, and made the head look towards
the black : rubbed out the right hand, and put it in
holding a pewter pot, and touched part of the jacket ;

268 THE LIFE OF 1809.
which alterations have, I think, improA'-ed the figure
very much. As it grew dark, I went over part of
the figures in the balcony, for the purpose of lessening
them. — 16th, Went over part of the pantaloons of
the back figure sitting at the table, and altered them
to a dark colour, which has improved much the
effect of the group. — 18th, Finished the legs of the
back figure at the table : painted over the hat of the
figure in the blue jacket, which I think I have im
proved: painted over the left hand of the same
figure, and made it hold the bottle higher up. — 1 9th,
Painted to-day the hand of the man smoking behind
the landlord, and went over a great part of the man
behind the principal figure, to darken the shadows
and strengthen the effect. I sketched in some hands
about the principal group, which I think has im
proved it ; and I propose, too, to alter the figure
behind with the hat in his hand. Sketched in part
of the group in the balcony. — 20th, Occupied from
9 tUl 3, touching in the drapery of the girl puUing
the principal figure. — 21st, Painted the hand of the
girl, and went over the face of the mother : I also
went over the landlady's hands. — 2 2d, Painted the
left hand of the man in the blue jacket and the bottle,
which, with part of the hat behind, was aU that I
did to-day. — 23d, Painted to-day the feet of the
girl, and part of her frock : Seguier sent me the etch
ings of Ostade. — 25th, Finished the chUd's frock,
and did something to the feet of the principal figure.
— 26th, Painted to-day the pot in the hand of the
figure at the table. The black coming in at 11, I
made him sit for the hand on the bottle. I also

Mt.24. SIR DAVID WLLKIE. 269
glazed his head, and painted over the apron of the
landlord. — 2 7th, Painted the head Avith the mouth
open in the back of the principal group, and also the
left hand of the same figure. — 28th, Put in the
hands of some of the figures in the principal group
from Alorely, who sat aU day. — 29th, Put hi the
great-coat by the side of the black : glazed the coat of
the black, and pamted in the petticoat of the land
lady. — 30th, PrincipaUy employed in making amend
ments. Also painted in the head of the man with
the pot in his hands."
This minute detaU of work done, altered, rubbed
out, restored, retouched, and finished, proves how
hard this eminent man wrought for distinction ; how
he moA'ed on in reputation, like the sunbeam on the
waU, slowly and brightly. His tods were sometimes
interrupted by communications of both a welcome
and unwelcome nature. The best of his friends —
Sir George Beaumont and Lord Alulgrave were of the
number — reproached him frequently, as his Journal
proves, for working at an under-price, and ad
Aised him to double the charges which he made for
his sketches as weU as his pictures. " I received,"
says WUkie, " a note from Lord Mulgrave full of
affectionate kindness; his lordship endeavoured to
impress on me — while he sent me double the
charge I had made — that I was doing myself great
injustice by being so moderate, and that his sending
me the enclosed was meant as an admonition to avoid
such injurious disinterestedness for the future."
There were others who Avere reckoned the friends of

270 THE LIFE OF 1809.
British Art, who neither felt nor acted like Lord
Mulgrave. Some, indeed, could not but know that the
pictures which had brought fame to WUkie had not
brought wealth ; that they were laboriously wrought
out, were any thing but produced in haste, and had
cost him much in models and in colours. To enable
him to keep up executing these brUliant works, he
had called to his aid portrait-painting, and had exe
cuted a few single heads and groups, such as Dr.
CampbeU, the Marchioness of Lansdowne, and the fa
mily group of the Neaves. The perverse Barry chose to
hunger and thirst in the great cause of epic art ; and
Thomas Hope seemed desirous of starving a far finer
genius, by driving him to the hitherto barren regions
of the domestic drama, where Hogarth would have pe
rished had not his right hand been sldlful with the
graver as weU as the pencU. " Mr. Seguier caUed,"
says WUkie*, " to deliver a message from Mr. Thomas
Hope, which was, that he wished to Avithdraw the
commission for a picture which he had formerly
given to me. No reasons were assigned for this ; but
Seguier suspected that Hope had felt hurt by hearing
that I was engaged upon portraits. If this be his
true reason, I certainly feel less regret than if it had
arisen from any other fault; for I think very httle
consideration might have shoAvri him that I could not
have begun to paint portraits voluntarUy. Indeed,
my principal object in undertaking them Avas to be
enabled, Avith the money they brought, to do justice
to my other works ; for I might surely do myself
* Journal, September 12. 1809.

JEt.24. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 271
much less mischief by painting portraits for money
than my other subjects." Hoav Hope reconciled his
treatment of AVUkie to his oavu sense of honour — for
he was a high-minded gentleman — no one has told
us. We regret the occurrence for the sake of a
name from Avhich we cannot Avithhold our respect.
Let us continue the history of The Alehouse Door.
Journal.
" January 1st, 1810. — Alade some alterations in
the composition of the hands in the prmcipal group.
Began to paint in the articles on the table, but suc
ceeded only Avith the peAvter pot; and touched the
figure of the landlord, to bring him out from the
back-ground; gave this morning thirty shillings to
the two house-maids for their new year's gift. —
2d, Had a short walk before breakfast. Had a
caU, to my surprise, from Sir George Beaumont,
who had come to toAvn on a visit to Lord Mul-
graA'e; — the picture is finished which he intended
for me. I painted to-day the tumblers, plate, and
table, which, if they are not rather crowded, are very
weU. I have thought of a different arrangement for
the legs of the principal figure, but have not been
able to make the change. — 3d, The model came, on
which I began to paint, and went over the coat of
the figure with the pot in his hand, in the principal
group ; I altered the arrangement in the hands of the
figure, which has improved the look very much.
Painted in the left hand of the figure vrith the black
hat. — 4th, Painted the head of the woman in the bal
cony with the black bonnet. Had a call from Sir

272 THE LIFE OF

1809.

George Beaumont, who urged me strongly to per*
suade Haydon to paint the figures in his picture on
a much smaUer scale ; Sir George brought with him
the landscape, which he had been so kind as to paint
for me since I was at Coleorton; he has made alto
gether a very complete picture. — 5th, Painted in the
head and hands of the second figure in the balcony.
Called on Haydon, who said he had not seen Sir
George Beaumont on the subject of his picture, but
showed me a letter which he intended to send.
I advised him, however, as it was a business of the
most dehcate nature, to consult Edridge, who I
thought might give him right advice; saw his pic
ture, and thought the Macbeth's head too large for
the body. — 6th, Had a caU from Haydon, who told
me he had seen Sir George Beaumont, and had been
entreated to paint him a smaUer picture : he did not
know, he said, what to do ; but as I certainly beheve
that it would be of great advantage to Haydon to
paint small, from the much greater demand there
would be for his pictures, I told him if he could over
come his OAvn feehngs, and foUow Sir George's advice,
he was only sacrificing his OAvn inclination to pubhc
opinion. — 7th, Saw Haydon, who said he had partly
undertaken to Sir George Beaumont to make the
picture smaUer  8th, Touched a little on the figures
on the balcony, and on the dress of the black. —
9th, Went in Mr. Neave's coach with my paintmg
materials to Hampstead: and only succeeded in
rubbing out a great deal of what I had for
merly done. — 10th, Mr. Neave sent his servant
to-day AAdth a saddled horse to bring me to Hamp-

-Et. 25. SIR DAA'ID WILKIE. 273
stead ; went over the head of Henry Neave, and put
in the dog by Air. Sheffield Neave, which, 1 think,
has unproved the picture much  11 th, AVent to Air.
Neave's and painted tUl near 4 ; but only succeeded
in finishing the head of Aliss Charlotte : I also put in
her right hand, hut did not get it done to my Avish.
— 12th, Haydon came to breakfast; he told me he
could not and would not paint the picture smaller
than he had begun it, and was resolved to Avrite to that
effect to Sir George Beaumont. Went to Air. Neave's,
and got in the drapery of Aliss Charlotte pretty well.
— 13th, Painted on the portrait of Air. Henry Neave
for three hours, and was not at all successful. Air.
Sheffield sat for a httle ; I made the hand less, and
painted the ear. — 15th, Painted from Air. Sheffield
Neave, and went over his hands, his coat, and his
legs. Went to the Royal Academy, where I heard
Soane's lecture on architecture, with which I was much
pleased ; came home Avith Haydon, who told me he had,
after aU, begun his picture on a smaU scale from poUcy
rather than principle. — 16th, To Hampstead, where
I painted in the dog in the NeaA'e picture, which oc
cupied me aU day. — 17th, CaUed on Hoppner, and
was told he was A'ery iU ; stopped at Colnaghi's, and
inquired about the sale of the engraAing of The Jew's
Harp. I was told it sold very weU ; I saw an engraring
from a picture by David, which certainly shows that
painter to be no common man. Sold out stock for my
present need, and have uoav remaining 100/. CaUed
on Thomson, the pamter ; he showed me a picture he
was paintmg from the Alidsummer-Night's Dream,
which I think promises to be very good indeed  18th,
VOL. I. T

274 THE LLFE OF 1810.
Went to Hampstead, and painted over the neck and
gOAvn of Mrs. Neave ; went and dined at the Crown and
Anchor Avith the members ofthe Royal Academy ; Flax
man was in the chair. — 19th, Painted the hands of
Miss Charlotte Neave ; stayed at home during the even
ing, and read part of the Edinburgh Review. — 20th,
Painted over Air. Neave's coat, WUliam Neave's face
and figure, and darkened the shadow of his feet : in
the evening looked over Ostade's etchings, which gra
tified me much. — 2 1 st, Called on Hoppner, and found
him very Ul. — 23 d, Painted on the Neave picture,
and put Mrs. Neave into a satin gown ; she had one
made on purpose. CaUed on Miss BaiUie, for my way
lay past her door. — 24th, Read a letter from a society
in Yorkshire, proposing to establish an annual exhi
bition of pictures. Dined with the Miss BaiUies ;
they received me with great kindness, and Joanna
gave me a book to read, from which Shakspeare drew
the plots of several of his plays. — 25th, Painted on
the portrait of Miss Caroline Neave, and went over
her neck and pelisse ; Avas engaged the rest of the day
in making a sketch of Mr. Richard's dog on a piece
of mUlboard. Mr. Neave proposed that I should go
over part of the back-ground, and paint something in
place of the screen and door, but this I most firmly
resisted. — 26th, To Hampstead, where I finished the
reticule in Airs. Neave's hand, and made the trousers
of Sheffield Neave into a nankeen colour. CaUed on
Charles Bell, who had been ill, but was now well 
27th, Painted in the stand for the clock in the corner
of the Neave picture, and the tripod close by the Avin
dow. Made, Avhen I came home, a sketch with the

^Et.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 275
pen of my picture of The Alehouse Door, and tried
an elevation in the staircase of the centre house. 
29th, AYas employed the whole day in touching various
parts of the Neave famUy picture ; I found, hoAvever,
that I could not complete it to-day. Heard the lec
ture at the Academy, on architecture, by Soane, in
which he showed us a great A'ariety of draAvings of
buildings, ancient and modern, pointed out the faults
and beauties of both, and, to my surprise, as well as
that of most of the Academy, he exhibited, as speci
mens of gross incorrectness, portions of Covent Garden
Theatre ; for this he made many apologies, but, in my
mind, they were not sufficient to excuse the impro
priety of criticising severely a building so lately
erected. — 30th, Touched all day on the Neave picture,
which, as far as my own opinion goes, brought it to
a conclusion ; I therefore brought away my painting
materials. — 31st, I resumed to-day my labours on the
Alehouse Door ; I painted the right hand of the man
bawling out behind the principal group, and the head
of the figure close behind the principal figure, which,
with the darkening of the shadow under the feet of
the group, and finishing the left foot of the leading
figure, formed my day's work.
"February 1st, Painted on the head of the figure
offering the glass to the girl on the balcony. I suc
ceeded also in painting in the hands of the same
figure. I have been considering the propriety of
bringing down the arm of the girl, instead of its being
held upright. Had a call from Mr. Neave, who gave
me a draft for 100/., in addition to the 100/. I had
before from him in payment of the group of portraits.
t 2

276 THE LIFE OF 1810.
— 2d, Painted in the young figure with the pipe in
his hand on the balcony, the head-dress on the other
side of him, and the dress of the man offering the
woman a glass of spirits. Had a caU from the Earl of
Essex, who seemed to hke what I had done ; and a
call from Mr. CaUcott, who approved of what I had
done, and what I proposed to do, to the houses in the
back-ground : he thought the Uttle girl in the principal
group rather thin for her apparent age, and advised
me, upon the whole, to avoid getting too much subject
into my picture. — 3d, Put in the figures on the bal
cony in my sketch as I had done them in my picture.
Had a girl for a model, and put in the boy looking
through the railing on the balcony from the girl,
which did tolerably weU. CaUed on Haydon, and
consulted him about the propriety of painting an
other picture for the Exhibition, which he advised me
to do. — 4th, Was told of the death of Whiteford,
which happened last night. CaUed on Shee, who
asked me if I had any intention of starting for the
honour of being elected an Academician : I assured him
I had not. He said, I might rely on his vote when
ever I chose to come forAvard. Soane, he said, Avould
not lecture to-morrow night, in consequence of that
part of his last lecture which alluded to Covent Garden
Theatre being found fault Avith by the CouncU. — 5th,
Was engaged for the greater part of the morning
making a sketch of my picture, with the amendment
of a different staircase in the back-ground. I began
at 1 to paint the great-coat hanging over the raUing
of the balcony. I also sketched in the legs of the
boy hanging through the railing. CaUcott came, and

Mt.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 277
looked oA'er the etchings of Ostade Avith me  6th,
Tried different effects in the sketch I began yesterday ;
made a pretty good composition, but am uncertain of
adopting it hi preference to my first idea. I then
began Avith the picture, in which I made a slight alter
ation in the boy sitting on the balcony, Avhich has im
proved it much. I began the bird-cage, and part of
the portico, which I carried on a httle way. — 7th, Put
in the head, hands, hat, and coat of the figure search
ing his pocket at the table behind the principal group.
The Aliss Baillies Avrote to inquire, on the part of a
friend, if I would undertake to paint a family group of
portraits : answered, that my engagements at present
precluded me from undertaking such a commission. —
8th, Painted from old Alorely the legs of the figure
searching his pocket, and sketched in the feet of the
figure behind. — 9th, I did nothing but make arrange
ments for the group on the right of the principal
figures. I have not settled it yet ; but I think it is
much better than it was. Wrote to Sir George Beau
mont an answer to his letter of this day, in which he
gives me directions about the conduct of my picture
of The Alehouse Door. — 10th, Painted in the legs and
went over the face of the boy in the balcony, which I
have improved very much. — 12th, Was employed
the most of the day in making the sketch on a panel
of the man Avith the girl's cap on (The AVardrobe
Ransacked) ; and aftenvards, in trying different ar
rangements in the sketch of my large picture. A gen
tleman caUed and proposed that I should make designs
for a new edition of Don Quixote ; I said I thought I
could not undertake it ; he wished me to think of it.
t 3

278 the life of i8K>.
— 13th, Tried to make a sketch of the back-ground,
and afterwards went on with the shadow of the man
in the blue jacket, and painted over the feet of the
table ; to aU of which I have given more force. Had
a call from Burnet, whom I had not seen for a long
time. — 14th, I began to paint the hand of the man
with the girl's cap on in the sketch of that little sub
ject, but did not get the hand all done. — 15th, Went
on with the sketch of the man with the girl's cap on ;
succeeded in painting the man's hand, and the girl's
hand and arms. — 16th, Had a Valentine to-day, from
whom I know not ; but certainly in the same hand
writing as one I received formerly. Began on the
sketch of the man with the girl's cap on, which I
carried on a considerable way. — 17th, Painted aU
day on the sketch of The Man with the Girl's Cap,
which I advanced much, and gave it a considerable
degree of force. Had a caU from Captain Robertson,
son of Mr. Robertson, minister of Ratho ; I was very
happy to become acquainted with him. — 18th, CaUed
on Haydon, who was much at a loss whether to begin
his picture anew from a new sketch, which he showed
me, or go on with the old plan : I urged him strongly
to proceed with the old in preference. Wrote a letter
to my sister Helen. — 19th, Altered the arrangement
of my sketch of the man with the girl's cap on, by
putting more shadow behind the man. Went to the
British Forum, attracted by the question of, Whether
the late conduct of Windham or of Yorke was most
reprehensible? A very stupid man began the debate:
several members spoke ; I Avas much disappointed on
the whole with the discussion : there was a total ab-

Mt.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 27!)
sence of sound argument, and an excess of abusive
declamation. — 20th, Haydon called; he doubted the
propriety of my painting a small picture, such as The
Alan Avith the Girl's Cap, for the Exhibition. Irvine
(a pamter) caUed, and mentioned, as an inducement
for me to proceed Avith my small picture for the Ex
hibition, that an Academician said if I exerted my
self, I might in aU probabUity be elected an Acade
mician next year. CaUed on Seguier, and mentioned
the objection of Haydon to my going on Avith the
cldld's cap picture, as weU as my oaati doubts on the
subject : he went and looked at the picture, and ap-
proA'ed of it, particularly for its strength of effect :
this has determined me to go on boldly. — 21st, Went
over some parts ofthe sketch. — 22d, Employed most
of the day rubbing in the picture of the Man in the
Girl's Cap ; I afterwards made a draAving of his right
hand. — 23d, Finding what I had done to my picture
of The Man Avith the Girl's Cap on not quite dry,
I went on Avith the picture of The Alehouse Door. I
went over part of the principal group, to give it
strength ; over some parts of the girl's dress ; the
legs and foot of the man ; the woman's petticoat : to
all of which I gave much more strength. — 24th, Could
not get a right model for the picture of The Man in
the Girl's Cap, and was obhged to work on The Ale
house Door. I went over that part of the house be
hind the principal figures, and over the portico and
the cage. — 25th, CaUed on West, whose pictures I
was highly pleased with ; his powers of composition
seem astonishing : he gave me a long and particular
account of his manner of Avorking. Dined Avith Lord
t 4

280 THE LIFE OF 1810,
and Lady Mulgrave. — 26th, The model came, and I
painted from him part of the hand of The Man with the
Girl's Cap : I did in the absorbent ground, but did
not get it completed. Went to the Academy, where
Fuseli gave us an exceUent lecture on the present de
graded state of art ; saw PhUlips and CaUcott, the
latter of whom I congratulated on his accession to the
higher honours of the Academy. — 27th, Went over
great part of the man's hand in the girl's cap, and
found great benefit from the use of the absorbent
ground. I afterwards went over the girl's cap which
he has on his head. Went to the Academy, and pro
ceeded with my drawing. — 28th, Had a caU from
Burnet, and a brother of his who has been at the
Walcheren expedition. CaUed on Farington, who
introduced me to Lord de DunstanviUe. I saw Hay
don, who told me he approved much of the hand I
had begun in my picture of The Man with the Girl's
Cap. " March 1st, Succeeded in painting in the head of
the man with the girl's cap on. Saw, in a caU at Aliss
Singleton's, a very fine head, unfinished, of Sir Joshua's.
- — 2d, Did in the head of the girl in the picture of the
man Avith the cap. Had a call from Air. Duddingston,
Avho had been in India, and lived some time in my
brother's house. Went to the Academy, where Thom
son told me, he understood that Raeburn was coming
to London, and that Iloppner's house was to be taken
for him. — 4th, Sat to Robertson for my picture; saw
in the possession of Mr. De Lahont a Titian, which I
thought very fine ; The Adoration of the Magi, by
Rembrandt, very fine. But what surpassed aU was a

3ST.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 281
Holy FamUy, by Rubens ; the colouring of Avhich Avas
wonderful, and the way in Avhich the body of St.
John was painted and touched beyond aU description.
Saw Sir WUUam Erskine, Avho said he Avould give me
150 guineas for the picture of The Penny Wedding,
Avhich I Avas to paint for him. I thought his offer
liberal. — 6th, AYent over the face and arm of the man
Avith the girl's cap on. — 7th, Seguier told me, he
thought the coat of the man Avith the girl's cap on
was much too bright a yeUow for the flesh : I shall
paint it OA'er again. Went to the Academy, and drew
tiU 8. Haydon showed me a sketch of a new picture
from Romeo and Juliet, which he intends for the Ex
hibition. — 8th, Painted to-day on the sleeve of the
girl in my picture of the man and cap, and also touched
in her neck. Sharpe showed me his engraving of
Copley's picture of the Siege of Gibraltar, which I
thought a fine specimen of workmanship. He sat Avith
me long, and said that he beUeved Brothers to be the
second Jesus, foretold in Scripture, and Johanna
Southcote a true prophetess, who spoke from inspira
tion. He is altogether a smgular mixture of talent
and absurdity. — 9th, Painted over aU I had formerly
done to the coat of the man in the chUd's cap. I
have lowered the tone of the coat very much, which
has greatly improved the look of the flesh. Lord de
DunstanviUe caUed, and seemed to like The Alehouse
Door as far as it had gone. Had a long conversation
Avith Thomson, the Academician, about Soane's conduct
in the Academy, which seems, from his account, to have
been very odd. — 10th, Had a caU from Lister Parker,
who told me he wished his picture to be painted the

282 THE LIFE OF 1810.
size of 20 by 17 inches. Thomson, R. A., caUed, and
saw my pictures, which he seemed pleased with, and
advised me to paint with wax. — 11th, Sydney Smith
gave us a sermon to-day on toleration, which seemed
entirely directed to the state of the CathoUcs of Ire
land ; but he conceded that to the Cathohcs, which I
remember in another sermon he refused to the Metho
dists. — 12th, I painted to-day the under petticoat and
foot of the little girl in my picture of The Man and
the Cap. — 13th, Painted the red waistcoat, the blue
apron, and part ofthe breeches of the man Avith the
girl's cap on. Went to the British GaUery, where for
the first time I saw the pictures; met Hilton and
other artists. Went to buy some wax from Barclay
in the Haymarket, who, on learning who I was, in
sisted on my acceptance of a large quantity as a pre
sent. — 14th, Painted in the legs ofthe man with the
girl's cap on ; had a model Avith me aU day. — 15th,
Painted most of the day on the face of the girl in the
little picture. Went to the Academy, where Fuseh
discoursed very eloquently on the characters of Titian,
Tintoretto, and Rubens  16th, Haydon came to see
my picture, but did not approve of the alteration I
had made in the girl's head and arm ; pamted over
the girls head, which I think I have improved. —
17th, Touched on the head of the girl, and the hand
taking hold of the man's coat, but have thought of
maldng a different arrangement with the other hand,
and of putting a shawl about his shoulders. Went
to Knightsbridge and took possession of my new lodg
ing  18th, Found myself uncomfortable from the
scantiness of covering on the bed, and had no sleep

Mt. 25.

SIR DAVID AVTLKIE. 283

aU night. — 19th, Put in the elbow of the left arm of
the girl, and also Avent over the neck; I tried to-day
an experiment of painting Avith plaster of Paris to re
store the ground, wluch, on being painted over again,
produces a wonderful effect. Had an admirable lec
ture at the Academy from Fuseh on invention. —
20th, Painted in tlie shoidder and part of the arm of
the Uttle girl in my picture of The Alan and the Cap.
— 21st, Painted in the right leg ofthe man Avith the
girl's cap on, and resolved on putting the girl's arm
as it was at first, with a shaAvl over the shoulders of
the man. — 2 2d, Painted from 9 to 4, during which
time I was engaged on the left hand and shoulder of
the girl ; made some alterations in the shawl. Had
a caU from Air. P., who desired to know what the
price of The Alehouse Door would be ; I said I could
not teU yet. He said, a friend of his wished to know
whether I expected more than 200 guineas for it ; I
answered that I should not think myself paid at that
price. — 23d, Painted without interruption tiU 6
o'clock, and dined at home. I painted over again the
man's right hand, and in putting in the blue drapery
coming over the arm. — 24th, Painted in the basket
with the things in it. — 25th, Had a card to dinner
to-day from Lord Alulgrave ; went, and met Seguier
and Haydon. — 26th, Painted part of the chest of
drawers and the straw bonnet ; had a call from the
Marquis and Marchioness of Lansdowne, also from Sir
George Beaumont ; they saw the picture I am now
painting. ~ 27th, Painted in the looking-glass. Saw
two portraits by A'andyke, very fine indeed, which
bear strong marks of having been painted on absorbent

284 THE LIFE OF 1810,
grounds. I was told that Sir Joshua Reynolds never
used absorbent grounds. — 28th, Varnished parts ofthe
picture of The Man with the Girl's Cap. — 29th, Had
a model sitting all day, from which I touched various
parts of my picture. — 30th, Painted from 9 tUl 5 on
The Man with the Girl's Cap. — 31st, Went over the
legs of the man, and I think have bettered them.
"April 1st, Painted on my picture of The Man
with the Girl's Cap. — 2d, Had a caU from Lord
Harcourt, who appeared pleased with my picture.
Sir George and Lady Beaumont caUed, when the
former told me he had found a name for my picture
of The Man with the Girl's Cap, — 'No Fool Uke
an Old Fool.' — 3d, Painted aU day at my picture;
put in the bottom part of the chest of drawers and
the room floor. — 4th, Did aU over the white sleeve and
the two hands, and wrote a letter to my father. —
5th, Began to paint at 10, and continued tUl 6. Had
a caU from Seguier, who seemed to hke my picture,
but disapproved of its being painted on an absorbent
ground. Called on Haydon, and met with Geddes,
just come from Edinburgh. Took my picture of
The Man with the Girl's Cap to the Admiralty, and
showed it Lord and Lady Mulgrave, and compared it
with some of the Flemish pictures, which made it
look rather raw in the colouring : I then took it to
the Royal Academy, and left it for the Exhibition,
Avith a note containing the title, which I made
'A Man teasing a Girl by putting on her Cap.'"

JEt.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 285

CHAPTER IX.
AVTLKIE PAINTS "THE WARDROBE RAX SACKED," AND SENDS IT TO
THE ROYAL ACADEMT EXHIBITION.  ADAISED TO WITHDRAW
IT.  EARLT FAME OF EDAYARD BIRD.  EXTRACTS FROM
JOURNAL.  COMPLETION OF " THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL."  COR
RESPONDENCE AVITH SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.  OBLIGED TO
REFRAIN FROM PAINTING THROUGH LLL HEALTH. — DR. BAILLIE
AND JOANNA HATT.T.TR's KINDNESS.  AVILKIE AT HAMPSTEAD
AND DUNMOW.  ELECTED A ROYAL ACADEMICIAN.
I have now traced the conception and progress of that
true national picture, The AdUage Festival, through
the clear and minute record of the artist's own Jour
nal, tiU the time when, touched by a new fancy, or
swayed by one in whose taste he trusted, he laid it
aside and took up that of The Man with the ChUd's
Cap, one of the happiest of his smaUer compositions.
The deference which he pays to the opinions of his
friends, the labour which their remarks occasion, and
his anxiety to attain the perfection arising from uniting
happy labour with consummate skill, must have been
apparent to aU ; nor can it have escaped notice, that
The Adllage Festival was not laid aside for the lesser
picture, tiU the arrival of the letter from Sir George
Beaumont, to which aUusion is made in the Journal,
and which we shaU now introduce into the narrative.
" AVhen you consider," says his accomplished friend,
" how much I am interested in the success of your
picture, The VUlage Festival, you will, I am sure,
pardon the trouble I give you. AU that part which

286. THE LIFE OF 1810v
would be impossible to others you will execute with
ease. I am only afraid, from want of practice in
these things, the sky and back-ground may cost you
some trouble. But how essential are those to the
effect of the whole : to give them their due proportion
of spirit Avith a proper degree of subordination — to"
make them, as it were, a bed for the main part of the
picture — to place the lights and shades in such places
as wiU animate without disturbing the whole, is a task
far more difficult than is generaUy imagined ; and I
think even the best of the Dutch and Flemish painters
failed frequently in this respect, and rather injured
than assisted their pictures by their back-grounds.
My notion is, that your sky should be grey, sUvery,
and tender — by all means a vivid, a predominant
blue : blue-black, or at most a small mixture of ultra
marine ashes, vdll make it as blue as it ought to be,
otherwise it wiU not keep its place, wUl catch the eye,
and injure the effect of the figures. I have a small
landscape by Teniers, the sky of which is nearly the
colour I should recommend, and if you think it will
be of any use, I wUl send it to you. Should you fail
the first time, I cannot help recommending a restora
tion of the ground ; as far as my experience goes, it
is impossible to paint light grey upon light greys,
and light blue upon light blues, without producing
insipidity or heaviness. Excuse the Uberty I take,
and believe me to be, with true regard and esteem,
your sincere friend."
That Wilkie felt the truth of these observations,
appears from his laying The Village Festival for a
time aside, and turning his pencil to a less laborious

Mt.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 287
task, that he might keep his name before the public
through the influence of the Exhibition. To have the
air and sky in unison Avith the festive groups below,
seems to have been the desire too of the judicious
CaUcott, who interested himself in the landscape por
tion of the picture. The mirth, the humour, the pro
gress of rustic joy towards dissipation, were safe, they
felt, in the hands of WUkie, who, a great master of
propriety in aU things, observed it scrupulously in
matters of a moral nature. To give a pleasing image
of EngUsh enjoyment, it was necessary to come to the
open air Avith pipe and pot; the open air demanded a
clear sky and a bright sun, and of these auxUiaries the
artist was scarcely yet master. Time was, he felt, re
quired — time he resolved to take ; and trusting that
the httle picture of The Alan with the ChUd's Cap
would find such a place as its merits deserved in the
Exhibition, he took it, as it appeared, without any
thing Uke misgiving.
WhUe WUkie was wondering at the madness of the
mob, who, resenting the committal of Sir Francis
Burdett to the Tower for a hhel on the House of Com
mons, poured their wrath on the houses of Lord Wel
lesley and Lord Castlereagh, a note was put into his
hand from his friend Sir George Beaumont, requesting
to see him on something of importance. " I went at
once," says Wilkie in his Journal, " to Grosvenor
Square, where I saw Sir George Beaumont, who told
me that West had waited on him, and expressed a
Arish that I should withdraw from the Exhibition my
picture of The Alan with the Girl's Cap, for it was con
sidered not equal to my other productions. I said,

288 THE LIFE OF 1810,
that the disgrace of withdrawing a picture was pro
bably greater than the harm which exhibiting it could
do me, but that I should consult some of my friends
in the Academy about it. I caUed on Shee at the
Academy, who told me that the prevailing opinion
amongst my friends in the CouncU was, that it would
be prudent to Avithdraw it ; I consented to withdraw
it accordingly. I then went to Haydon's, where I saAv
Fused, who said that they could not find a place for
Haydon's picture in the great rooms, and went away ;
next day Haydon caUed, and told me he had with-
draAvn both his pictures from the Exhibition."
There have been various opinions expressed of the
judgment which the Royal Academy passed on this
picture. The pubUc have not withheld their admira
tion because of the censure of the CouncU. It is true
that, in dramatic interest and variety of character,
it cannot compete with The VUlage Politicians, The
Blind Fiddler, or The Rent Day ; and this is probably
what was meant : nevertheless it is a fine picture,
rich in humour even to overflowing. The title of
" No Fool hke an Old Fool," supphed by Sir George
Beaumont, expresses the subject better than that of
The Wardrobe Ransacked — a name afterwards found
for it — or than that of The Man with the Girl's Cap,
which it commonly receives. The picture is composed
of two figures — the one an old man of a joyous and
humorous nature, who, teased perhaps with a niece
or grand-daughter's youthful love of finery, has
plucked her favourite cap from her wardrobe, put it
fantastically upon his head, and, with her scarf about
his shoulders, struts about the room imitating the

Mt.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 289
step and demeanour of some mincing court-bred
madam, "AAith nods, and becks, ami Avreathed smiles,"
while the ehUd, a little girl, in a mood betAveen mirth
and vexation, follows to snatch her finery from him,
and stretches her arms, much too short, to reach the
cap which hangs awry on his brow. It is one of those
little natural and happy things which, hke The Jew's
Harp, the painter found, not in song, but in observa
tion and society, which aU feel as weU as understand.
But the cause of the withdrawal of this picture
from the Exhibition has been imputed by some to the
rising fame of Edward Bird, whose pictures, formed
in the same domestic and famUiar walk of Ufe and
manners as those of WUkie, had already attracted
much attention. Bird's Game of Put, and his AdUage
Choristers, which he sent to the Exhibition, were in
the eyes, it seems, of the CouncU, more than a match
for Wilkie's Alan with the Girl's Cap, and in a fit of
satisfaction or alarm they advised, as we have seen,
its withdrawal. The Scotsman had reigned three
years, and some of his brethren who disliked him for
the sudden fame he had achieved, saw without a sigh
that reign about to close ; others, whose Avalk was in
the high historic, beheld AAith pleasure the doAvnfall of
the pan-and-spoon style, as they scoffingly called that
of WUkie : even the great painter himself, a timid and
diffident man, was for a time daunted, and silently,
and in his oaati quiet way, resigned his place to the
new candidate. We have seen when Cromek intro
duced Bird to Wilkie, the latter liked his compositions
much; but that, on a second examination, he abated
his admiration a Uttle, and I remember, Avhen I saw
vol. i. u

290 THE LIFE OF 1810.
Cromek in London during the spring of 1810, he
spoke to me of Bird as a genius who had already
conquered Willde with his own weapons, and con--
eluded his eulogium by saying, " Gad, Sir, he's pre
destined to humble your tall thin countryman, who is
as silent as the grave, and as proud as Lucifer."
Bird, in his happiest moods, never reached the vi
gour of character, the dramatic skUl, or the fine pro
prieties of Willde ; but this was hid at the time from
the eyes of almost all the friends of the latter : the
CouncU of the Academy advised him to retire from
the contest, and come, if he could, to the next Exhi
bition in greater strength. That men of taste, ex
perienced, too, in art, Avith the best pictures of the
Dutch and Flemish schools before them when they
spoke, could see in the best pictures which Bird had
yet painted aught to make the painter of The VUlage
PoUticians, The Blind Fiddler, or The Rent Day
alarmed for his laurels, seems most strange: there
could be no doubt that the picture, which he too
rashly withdrew, though limited in subject, would
have maintained Wilkie' s position in art, and kept its
place against aU opposition. He began to feel this
when it was too late to retrace his steps ; and he felt,
too, that it was safer to foUow his oavii bent than the
advice of forty counseUors.
On the very day on which Wilkie yielded to this
advice he recommenced his studies on the picture
of The Alehouse Door, and also on the picture he
had withdrawn from the Exhibition. 1 use his own
words : —

Mt.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 291
Journal.
" April 9th, Painted from 12 tUl 5, and Avent over
the figure of the man searching his pocket, in my
picture of The Alehouse Door, and made it a more
suitable colour. — 10th, Painted in from nature the
dog running before the principal group. — 1 1th, AVent
OAer very thinly several of the hands in the principal
group. — 12 th, Went over the young man sitting at
the table on the left of the picture, which I have re
heved considerably from the objects around; and I
rubbed out part of the body of the black, to give it
greater clearness. I painted from Ufe the head of the
pot-girl. — 13th, Had a caU from Seguier, who advised
me to do something to The Man Avith the Girl's Cap,
which I had withdrawn from the Exhibition, to make
it as perfect as possible, and get rid of the imputation
of its being an inferior picture. — 14fh, Painted from
10 to 5, and was whoUy occupied on the sketch of
The Alan Avith the Girl's Cap, which I tried to alter
in the effect and colour, and to introduce more sub
ject. Sketched in a dog in the corner, but did not
succeed in getting it to my mind  16th, Went
over, from nature, the face and neck of the girl in
the sketch of the same picture. — 17th, Put a black
silk cloak on the man in my picture of The Man with
the Girl's Cap, and think it a great improvement.
Lord de DunstanviUe caUed, and said that if it was
not engaged he should hke to have it. — 18th, Painted
in the fur on the black silk cloak, and part of the blue
lining. Had a caU from Sir George Beaumont, whose
permission I asked to have The Blind Fiddler cn-
u 2

292 THE LIFE OF L810.
graved : he consented, and agreed that Burnet, who is
to engrave it, is to have the picture on his going out
of town. — 19th, Painted the left side of the silk
cloak. Had a call from Hilton, to look at my Uttle
picture. — 20th, Was employed all day with the legs
of the man in my httle picture : have put gaiters on
him, which is an improvement. — 21st, Haydon caUed
to-day, and seemed to disUke my picture, and vdshed
me to paint over the girl's head again. He took me
to CoUins's, where I saw two pictures painted twenty
years ago by an Irishman, now dead, which Haydon
talked a great deal about before I saw them, and raised
my expectations probably too high : one is a travelling
priest preaching in a barn ; the other an Irish wake :
they display a great deal of humour, and in several
parts show good drawing; but it is only with the
allowance of their being done by a person who never
saw a picture in his hfe, that they deserve the high
encomiums which Haydon and Collins bestowed on
them. But I must confess that I do not think the
opportunities of the artist have been so very smaU as
it is said; and from the number of pictures I have
seen of almost equal merit, by a young artist who
never afterwards improved, I am inclined to doubt
whether the painter had all the genius they are avU-
ling to allow him. Painted in the hands of the girl
in The Man and the Cap — the right hand I think
successful. — 23d, Had a call from Lord de Dunstan
viUe, who agreed to take the picture when it should
be finished of The Man Avith the Girl's Cap. — 25th,
Painted again, from life, the girl's head in my little
picture: I altered it considerably in expression, and

.Et.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 293
made the hair Ught. Burnet called to consult about
engraving The Bhnd Fiddler : Harrison of Boy dell's
house, he said, had proposed to give me fifty guineas
for my share, if I would give my name and assistance
the same as if the concern was my oavti. I said the
offer was Uberal. — 26th, AYent OAer again the cap on
the man's head : painted OA'er the door behind the
man, and made it much darker. Jackson caUed, and
said that his wife had a legacy left by an uncle, Avhich
he expected would amount to 500/. ; which I was glad
to hear. Seguier called, and advised me to close Avith
Harrison's offer respecting the engraAing of The
Blind Fiddler. — 27th, Went over the deep shadow
in the door behind the man. AYent to the Royal
Academy, and as I entered I received a ticket of ad
mission to Turner's gaUery, Avith his compliments. I
looked at various pictures, and took particular notice
of Bird's, which, for expression of his figures, and
execution of his utensUs, are very great ; but, upon the
whole, they strike me to be deficient in painting and
colour : his flesh is heavy, and he seems to have no
idea of keeping in the general effect. They exhibit,
however, a very great effort. Owen, Shee, Thomson,
and Phillips, shine much in portrait ; and Turner and
CaUcott are, in my opinion, fuUy equal to their for
mer exceUence. I saw many academicians, strangers
to me. — 28th, Had a caU from Jackson and Con
stable; and after they were gone, from LaAvrence,
Avho seemed very much pleased with the picture I am
at present painting (The Alehouse Door). He in
quired if I intended it for Angerstein, which I said I
in some measure did : he was among the first on my
u 3

294 THE LIFE OF 1810.
list : he said he would mention that to him. Went to
the Royal Academy, where I found many people:
Mr. Perceval, with several more of the ministers
and members of the opposition. I sat next Pye,
the Poet Laureate, on the left of the President.
Came away with Stothard. — 29th, Went over the
girl's head from life, and over the shadow behind.
Had a call from Angerstein to see my picture of
The Alehouse Door, which Lawrence had told him
of: he seemed to like it very much, and said he
should be glad to have it. He observed there
was still a great deal to do to it, and that he would
be happy to let me have some of the money — say a
hundred pounds or so — to go on with, which I con
sider a very kind offer. Had a call from a person of
very rough manners, whom I afterwards found to be
Jack FuUer, the facetious member for Surrey. Burnet
called, and told me that BoydeU would give fifty
guineas for my share of profit on the engraAdng of
The Blind Fiddler.
"May 1st, Took the picture of The BUnd Fiddler
to Burnet's. Had a caU from Vernon the picture
dealer, who made the strange proposal that I should
advise Lord Mulgrave to purchase his two pictures
of The Siege of Valenciennes, for Government to
hang up in pubhc places. I gave him no hopes of
success in any such mission. — 2d, Seguier called, and
on looking at my little picture, said he thought the
Academy had used me very iU in requesting me to
Avithdraw it, for he thought my name would receive
no injury from its being placed beside Bird's pictures,
which he thought had been greatly overrated. Dined

Mt.2o. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 295
at Sir George Beaumont's, where I met Thomson,
Owen, and CaUcott, with whom I spent a pleasant
evening. — 4th, Had a caU from Burnet, who brought
me the bUl for 52/. 10*. from BoydeU, as a consider
ation for my aUowmg him to engrave The Blind
Fiddler. — 5th, Sir George Beaumont took me to see
a fine picture by Jan Stein of The Inside of a HaU,
with People feasting ; and two pictures by Ostade,
which I thought the finest I had seen of that master.
Seguier caUed, and I asked him what price I should
put on my Uttle picture of The Alan Avith the Girl's
Cap; was 100 guineas too much? He said no; for he
thought I could not ask less. — 6th, Dined with Lord
de DunstanviUe. — 7th, CaUed on Sir George Beau
mont, who said he thought the engagement I had
made with BoydeU was disadvantageous ; but I told
him I thought it quite otherwise ; before I left him
he made me promise, as he considered himself in
my debt for The BUnd Fiddler, to give him an op
portunity of discharging it, by painting him ano
ther picture, if possible, next summer. Glazed and
skumbled over several parts of the little picture of
The Alan Avith the Girl's Cap. Had a call from a Air.
Phillips (now Sir George), Avho commissioned me to
paint him a picture, for he was making a CoUection
of the English School; he resides in Lancashire 
8th, Went to see Turner's GaUery : he has a very fine
picture of the Lake of Geneva, several sea-pieces,
and a vieAv of LinUthgow Castle; the latter painted
for the Air. Phillips who called on me yesterday.
I thought this one of his best pictures. He has,
however, The FaU of a Glacier, which is too unde-
u 4

296 THE LIFE OF 1810.
fined for public taste. I was employed most of the
day on the floor of my little picture, and introduced
some ribbons to break the flatness of it. Had a
call from General Ramsay, the descendant of Allan
Ramsay, the poet, who staid some time.- — 9th, Painted
from 9 tiU 3, and glazed in the flesh of my sketch of
The Man with the Girl's Cap.— 10th, Chiefly em
ployed on the sketch of my Uttle picture. Wrote to
Burnet, and made over to him the privUege of en-
gra\ing my picture of The Blind Fiddler. Geddes,
Burnet, Eastlake, and Jackson came in the evenmg
to supper. — 11th, Had a young lady for a model,
who was rather timorous, and Mrs. Coppard sat in
the room to give her confidence ; painted in the
head of the pot-girl in my picture of The Alehouse
Door, much to my satisfaction. I also improved the
general* effect of my smaU sketch. Had a caU from
Andrew WUson, who subscribed for a print of the
Blind Fiddler. — 12th, Had a caU from Raeburn (the
painter), who told me he had come to London to look
out for a house, and to see if there was any prospect
of estabhshing himself. I took him, by his oavti
desire, to see Sir WUliam Beechey, who asked us both
to dine with him to-morrow, which I was obliged to
decline, being pre-engaged  13th, CaUed on Rae
burn, and called with him on several artists, who
happened to be from home, or engaged  14th, Had
a call from Bird, who came to town two days ago 
I did not show him any of my pictures. Lord de
DunstanviUe called ; he saw my httle picture of The
Man with the Girl's Cap ; I told him the price was one
hundred guineas, which he said he would send me,

Mr. 25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 297
and the picture might remain Avith me till next year,
as he AA*as gomg out of town. Had a call from Earl
Grey, who seemed to like my pictures much, and
gave me a commission to paint him one. — 1 5th,
Made some (fruAvings of hands; painted the right
hand and coat and waistcoat of the man making
love to the pot-girl in The Alehouse Door. — 16th,
Wrought on The Alehouse Door, and put in the left
hand of the man making love to the pot-girl, and the
dress of the man drinking  17th, Painted the legs
of the man making love to the girl, and the figure in
blue behind. — 18th, Busied all day making prepara
tions for the figures in the staircase : I tried the effect
of figures going up straight into the picture, and the
most of the stair turning to the right. I put a man
sitting by himself on the right of the stair in a thought
ful mood. Had a caU from Sir George Beaumont,
who had been Ul for some time : saw Haydon, whom I
wished joy on his gaining the premium at the British
GaUery. — 19th, Reconsidered my Alehouse Door,
and thought of a new way for the staircase  21st,
Hit upon an alteration in the large window and stair
case in the back-ground of The Alehouse Door, which
has produced a wonderful improvement. I have
moved the window much lower doAvn; also the stair
to the right hand ofthe picture, and the composition
is made to Uoav with great ease to the end. I also
made the figure beckoning the girl under the
Avindow. Raeburn caUed, and I accompanied him
to Newman Street, where we saw Stothard: Lord
de DunstanviUe was so kind as pay me for my
picture of The Man with the Girl's Cap; Haydon

298 THE LIFE OF 1810.
came, and approved much of the alterations I had
made in The Alehouse Door, and while he was with
me Lord Mulgrave sent me a cheque for ten guineas
for the sketch of Lord de DunstanvUle's picture —
23d, Put some figures in the window of the back
ground of my picture. — 24th, Went to the Exhibition
in the evening. I looked at and Uked the drawings
of Varley, Dewint, and Heaphy : the industry of the
latter is beyond aU example. When I think on the
number of highly finished objects which he has in
these pictures of his, and compare them with what I
myself have done in the same time, my labour seems
idleness. I must exert myself more  25th, Alade a
sketch from houses at Brompton, and then began to
paint on the pot-girl in my Alehouse Door ; painted the
shoulder and right arm and hand, and went over the
face and neck of the principal female' figure, which I
have improved in the finishing. — 26th, A young lady
caUed, and made use of the name of one of my friends
to see my pictures. She expressed in strong terms
her regret at not finding any picture of mine in
the Exhibition, and said she had seen a print of me,
but it looked much too youthful. Though she said
nothing at all improper, I am inclined to doubt her
character, as weU as her motive for caUing on me.
It is altogether a strange matter. Saw a Teniers,
which pleased me much ; it is weU composed, and has
a fine treatment of light and shadow. A letter came
from my father, saying that my grandfather was very
ill, and that he wished to see me this summer. —
28th, Mr. Walter, from Leeds, called, Avho wished
to knoAV if the picture of The Man with the Girl's

Mt. 25.

SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 299

Cap was disposed of. AA'as employed all day in going
thinly OArer the figures in the foreground of The Ale
house Door. AVrote an ansAver to a most affecting
apphcation from Lord AIulgraA'e to paint a hkeness of
his departed daughter, which I most wUlingly agreed
to undertake. — 30th, Painted till 4, and did in the
drunken man in the corner of The Alehouse Door, and
went over part of the waU behind the second table.
" June 4th, Went Avith Raeburn to the Crown and
Anchor to meet the gentlemen of the Royal Academy.
I introduced him to Flaxman ; after dinner he was
asked by Beechey to sit near the President, where his
health was proposed by Flaxman ; great attention was
paid to him. — 11th, Was employed most of the clay
in arranging the figure in the green coat in the prin
cipal group of The Alehouse Door."
With this entry, made on June 11. 1810, closes
the painter's history, and an interesting one it is, of
the rise and progress of the fourth of a great series
of national pictures, which, from a rustic group
carousing at a change-house door, graduaUy grew
and expanded into a work taking a wide range of
manners and character, and to a joyous image of
social England, adding some of those moral touches
which admonish rather than rebuke. The artist, in
his plain and unvarnished way, relates, as we have
seen, every advice which he followed or rejected in
the course of its creation ; tells, with scrupulous
exactness, when he wrought from life, or where he
made memory serve the turn; he seeks to conceal
nothing, but notes down failures as readily as he

300, THE LIFE OF 1810.
records successes ; is neither discouraged Avith the
one, nor elated Avith the other, but, adopting every
hint that promises improvement, and blotting out as
tranquiUy as he repaints and restores, he proceeds
calmly onward tiU he brings his odd materials into per
fect harmony of action and character, and impresses
his oaati original spirit on the whole composition.
The Alehouse Door — or, as it has since been caUed,
The VUlage Festival — exhibits England in her most
joyous mood : tippling brown ale of her own breAving,
and making merry under the shadow of broad-leaved
elms of her own planting. Her sons, under the in
fluence of the spigot and faucet, bid the hohday hours
fly past, tiU quiet glee bursts into noisy humour;
and her daughters, touched with mirth, and perhaps
with liquor, take part in the scene, only to watch
tiU their mates begin to faU from sociaUty into sot-
tishness, that they may move them home by gentle
force and good-humoured persuasion. There are
none of the moody groups here which give gloom to
the pictures of the Dutch painters. AYilkie has no
men who argue with knives and dirks ; nor women
who scold and scratch faces. The place where this
festivity occurs has a country look, remote from
spruce towns and regular cities ; the inn with bal
conies and doorways seems once to have sheltered a
race a step or tAvo higher into gentUity than its pre
sent occupants ; fruit trees are here and there on the
Avails, and the elms have been allowed to grow un-
lopped to the girth and stature of trees. It seems a
summer day, Avhen men and women, before harvest
begins, have leisure for fun ; in the cool side of the inn

Mt.25. sir da\tid wilkie. 301
seats of all kinds, but especially settles and benches,
are placed, as if at random, rather than regularly,
and there, gathered into knots and groups, are all
the drinking and noisy spirits of the district, waited
on by three ministers of joy, a jolly landlord, a bust
ling landlady, and an attractive handmaid. The ale
circulates in black bottles, in shining peA\1;er, or in
burnished flagons, tUl some sit because they cannot
stand, and others Ue because they cannot sit.
On one side of the picture, right against the ale
house door, from the step of which the landlady
casts her eye over the whole scene of her profit,
are seated four very drouthy customers, to whom
the landlord stands decanting a bottle of his best,
inducing the ale, by his art in pouring, to foam over
the crystal into which it is descending ; it flows
almost audibly, speaking more of the malt than of
the Thames. A negro is listening to the sound with
a face which aU but reddens through its tan Avith
enjoyment. The second or central group is com
posed of a man who
" Is na fou, but just has plenty,"
and who has been most reluctantly persuaded by his
wife and daughter to leave the first group while he
has feet to carry him : the descent of the strong ale
from the landlord's bottle sparkles in his eye ; the
remonstrances of his friends, who are adding force
to entreaty, sound like music in his ear, yet still
his feet move homeward : such is the happy influence
of Avife and weans. His very dog is a lover of pro
priety, and joins against those who seek to detain

302 THE LIFE OF 1810.
him; while even his tippling associates seem, from
their awkward and mirthsome manner of puUing at
him, to be scarcely in earnest, and to think that his
quiet and modest house dame is in the right. Partly
behind this central group are three or four rustics,
who acknowledge the double charm of the housemaid
and her ale, and detain her, not reluctantly on her
part, to listen to such palaver as rises uppermost-like
from beer when drink prevails. The landlady sees
aU this as if she saw it not ; and says, or seems to say,
like a Nance Tinnoch of the north on a simUar oc
casion, " Sic things maun be, if we seU yUl." The
group at the other end of the picture is of darker and
more painful meaning : a rustic, too tipsy either to
walk or stand, has fallen down between the hog's
trough and the sink, while his chUdren, evidently
motherless, gather around, and regard him with great
sorrow. There are auxdiary groups at door, and
Avindow, and balcony, laughing over the humour or
the beauty of a scene which words are not hght
enough to describe in its glow of colour ; or the skUl
of the graver equal to the task of transferring, with
true effect, its fuU character to copper.
Wilkie' s reputation did not recede, notwithstanding
the fears of the Academy and the appearance of the
pictures of Bird ; neither did his friends forsake him,
for they felt it was no "idol senseless, duU, and blind,"
which they had set up for admiration, but a spirit
Avhich, like that of nature, was not to be exhausted
by one effort. Lord Mulgrave, as has been related,
remonstrated with him for undervaluing his sketches,
and sent him double the price which he so modestly

JEt.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 303
charged; and Sir George Beaumont, Avith a delicacy
of Avhich only fine minds aro capable, a day or two
after the opening of the Academy, and the presence
of the painter's genius Avas missed, Avrote to him, say
ing, — " Alv dear Wilkie, I have long felt deeply in your
debt, but your dehcacy has always stood in the Avay
of its discharge. I thought of deferring it to another
opportunity ; but it may be so long before that occurs,
that I am, for A'arious reasons, induced to send you
the enclosed — let this be a secret between us." The
high and stUl rising fame of the painter had indeed
increased so much the value of The BUnd Fiddler,
that he might safely intimate, which he did, that he
regarded himself as still in his debt ; yet there can be
no doubt that Sir George, in this dehcate way, desired
to sustain the sensitive mind of WUkie, which he was
afraid might require such support; neither, perhaps,
was it out of his thoughts that the sale of his pictures,
by which he Uved, might be injured. That Sir George
Beaumont addressed a spirit akin to his oavu, may be
gathered from the foUoAving reply.
TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART.
Dear Sir George, [No date.]
The letter which I had the honour to receive
from you this morning, enclosing a cheque for fifty
pounds, took me so much by surprise that some time
was necessary for reflection. But the more I weigh
the matter in my mind, the more inexcusable should
I think myself were I to harbour a thought of re
ceiving any further consideration for what I have
already been so much overpaid. In order to show

304 THE LIFE OF 1810.
that I am not actuated by mere feeUngs of diffidence,
I beg leave to state, that for the permission you have
so kindly given me to have The Bhnd Fiddler en
graved, which, by the by, I had no right to expect,
and could not ask for from every person that has got
my pictures, I am to receive fifty guineas. This, in
addition to what I considered on a former occasion to
be a fair and Uberal price, would make it an absolute
act of injustice in me not to refuse what you have
sent me. I therefore, Avith the highest sense of your
generosity, beg of you to receive the cheque again,
and take the hberty of enclosing it. D. W.
It had been the lot of Sir George Beaumont to
experience his fuU share of that caprice which be
longs, it is supposed, to those who study the high
historic in art. No longer ago than May last in
this very year he had vowed to drop aU acquaint
ance with such impracticable professors, but glad
to perceive, in this not unlooked-for deUcacy in
WUkie, a trait of character which he esteemed in
at least one artist, whom he loved, he selected and
sent him three dozen of port wine, for which his
table was justly famous. " It is not in the power of
man," so ran the hasty note which accompanied it,
" to colour weU, or, indeed, to paint with effect, if his
port Avine is not good; I have therefore taken the
liberty of sending you a few bottles of such as you
cannot get at the retailers. A pleasant summer to
you, and all the success you can wish. You seem to
me to be in the right train : keep the sky and the
back-ground tender and comparatively flat, and I

Mt.25. SLR DAVID AVILKIE. 305
think you AviU haA'e less difficulty in giving force
and rehef to your figures. Eaoi- yours, Avith sincere
regard." This was a weU-timed gift : ATUkie, as Ave have
seen, for the sake of the health Avhich arises from easy
and gentle walks, had gone to lodge at Knightsbridge,
that he might partake in the benefit of morning and
evening walks between and Portland Street ; but agi
tated, it is supposed, by a contest for reputation with
an Enghsh artist to whom his countrymen for the
time seemed to inchne, and alarmed to see that even
the Royal Academy intimated, by advising the Avith-
drawal of a picture from the waUs of the Exhibition
on which he had done his ablest, that they considered
Bird as a dangerous rival, he feU Ul ; and no wonder,
for his health, at no time robust, had been shaken by
incessant study; and in all contests of the mind, the
most sensitive is sure to suffer. Sir George's Avine
was therefore welcome to one who took it as a cordial,
and for a time it did its good office ; but faUing at
length to restore either his looks or his spirits, he sent
for Dr. BaiUie, with whom he was intimate, and told
him he could neither think nor paint for a quarter of
an hour at a time without experiencing a giddiness of
head which almost amounted to fainting. Accounts
of his Ulness crept into the pubhc papers and alarmed
his friends : Sir George Beaumont was the first who
wrote. " I wish I could persuade you," he says, " to lose
no time in taking a little Coleorton air. Be careful
of your health, I most earnestly entreat of you ; a little
relaxation avUI make you return to your picture with
VOL. I. x

306. THE LIFE OF 1810.
renewed vigour. I have seen some characters here
lately, weU worth your attention. Although you
know the pleasure it would give us to see you, yet
for my own indulgence alone I never would persuade
you to neglect your profession, but I Avish you to
consider that health is as essential a requisite to the
successful exertions of an artist as genius." — "I
should think," he says again, " if you were to spend
the winter in Madeira, it might be the means of
restoring you to a permanent state of health. You
have the means of being carried there commodiously,
by aPplymg to Lord Mulgrave; and I am sure Mr.
Phipps, who by his long residence there knows aU the
conveniences and inconveniences of the place, wUl not
only give you every information that you may require,
but furnish you vdth letters of recommendation such
as may be very serviceable. I know your delicacy,
and should be very sorry to hurt your feelings; but,
if you are prevented by any deficiency of purse from
taking the proper measures for restoring your health,
and vdll not inform me of it, I shall, should it come
to my knowledge, consider it as most unkind. I hope
you think my friendship merits such confidence."
TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
My dear Sir 84- Portland Street, 2d Aug. 1810.
The accounts you have had of my indifferent
state of health are but too true ; I have been confined
for these six weeks by a fever, which I am happy to
say has now left me, though in a very weak state. As
it was accompanied with a shght affection of the chesty

Mt.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 307
I Avas induced by Lord Alulgrave to send for Dr.
BaUUe, Avho has attended me ever since, although, I
beheve, more from his oaati kindness than from any
apprehension of danger.
He now considers me in a fair Avay of recovery, and
as soon as I am able I shaU try the change of air.
But a journey to Coleorton, as you haATe so kindly
proposed, would be by far too great an effort. Lord
Mulgrave has offered to take me to his house at Tun-
bridge ; but, even for this, I shad not be able for a
considerable time. The picture is much in the same
state as when you saw it last, and it is not likely that
I shaU be able to recommence my labours soon. D.W.
His venerable father and most anxious mother
wished him to come to Cults ; and we have seen that
Sir George Beaumont, with equal anxiety, requested
him to turn his face to the romantic Coleorton ; but
Dr. BaiUie, who knew best what Wilkie could endure,
and who, moreover, felt that gentle employment of
head and hand were as necessary for health as fresh
air or medicine, advised him to take lodgings near
London. This was no sooner made knoAvn to Joanna
BaiUie and her sister, than — for what will genius and
generosity not do ? — they declared that a journey
for a couple of months, when the sickles were shining
among the corn, would do them good too ; and, com
missioning their eminent brother to offer the use of
their handsome cottage at Hampstead, with an attend
ance of servants, to their suffering friend, took their
departure accordingly. Wilkie, with a deep sense of
x 2

308 . THE LLFE OF 1810.
the delicacy of this very distinguished family, set up
his staff at Hampstead. The first letter I shaU intro
duce is from their residence: —

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Mv dear Sir Hampstead, 10th August, 1810.
You oblige me beyond any thing that my ex
pressions of thanks can give you an idea of, by your
kind letter, which has just now come to hand. I
intend leaving Hampstead on Saturday first, and,
after I have settled some business that wiU require
me to stop a few days in London, I shaU, if agreeable
to yourself, be ready to take my departure.for Dunmow
on Saturday the 3d or Monday the 5th of next month.
Your proposal of coming yourself to London for me,
I shall most assuredly consider as a great kindness as
well as a very high honour; but, unless you have
other business in town, I cannot think of your taking
so much trouble on my account, and I can assure you
my recovery is so far advanced as to enable me to
undertake a journey of that distance, in the common
way, Avithout the slightest hazard of retarding it.
This, however, I must leave in a great measure to
yourself. I wrote some days ago to Dr. BaUlie, requesting
him to advise me how I should proride myself against
the sharp air of the vdnter; and to a number of
questions, amongst which your proposal of going to
Madeira was the subject of greatest anxiety, he has
been pleased to return me for answer, that he does not
think the nature of my complaint requires me to go

Mr. 25, SIR DAVID WILKIE. 309
to a warm foreign climate, or even very far from Lon
don. He recommeuds me, hoAvever, to live out of
London, and to take a lodging for the Avinter in the
neighbourhood of Brompton, AA'here 1 may exercise
myself moderately at the painting, and, amongst a
number of other injunctions (Avhich I shall most
strictly adhere to), he has no objection to my taking
the air of Dunmow in the mean time as a further
restorative. Aly most worthy hostesses return to this place in
the course of a week, when your compliments shaU be
most faithfully presented to them. From Aliss Joanna
I had a letter this morning, in Avhich she congratu
lates me on the agreeable hours I shaU spend in your
famUy. I haA'e been studAing her Avritings lately Avith
very great attention, and cannot help considering
them as very wonderful productions. It even adds
to my admiration to see such uncommon talents and
unassuming manners existing in the same person. D.W.
He was not much cheered by a letter from home :
his mother had seen, in his seeking a bed at Knights-
bridge, that his health was tender ; and his father had
felt, for some time, that he AArote despondingly. " We
were much concerned," says the latter, " about your
last relapse. From Dr. BaiUie's treatment of your
trouble, he no doubt thought it dangerous : it is our
comfort that you are under such fine skiU, and it
may be proper that you seek fresh free air in the
country. Helen informed you, on her return from
the north, that I had been much distressed with a
x 3

310 THE LIFE OF 1810.
severe cough, which has left me a little at night, but
troubles me much by day. I have not been able to
preach since the 22d of July. Your grandfather, too,
has been more distressed than usual with a cough,
pain in the breast, and great shortness of breath.
We hope to hear that your fever is abated."
The stipend of Cults had been lately advanced from
118/. to 1501. a year; and as the lads of the manse
had grown up, the minister and his Avife and young
daughter began to feel the advantages of even that
gentle increase; but Ul health embittered aU. The
following is from his father : —

TO DAVLD WILKES, ESQ.
TJayia Cults, 20th Sept. 1810.
As it is above three weeks since we heard
from you, your mother is exceeding anxious to know
how you are. By your letter to Helen, of August
22d, you had been at Hampstead for four days ; was
of consequence able to go out of town, and was gain
ing strength. John CampbeU* caUed here, and in
formed us that he had received a card from you
before he left town, dated I think from Hampstead,
stating that you were recovering. In my last letter
I doubted much of your being able to come down to
Fife before the season was too far advanced for safe
travelling, but, upon consulting your mother on the
matter, we are both of opinion that if you are able
* Now Lord Campbell.

iET.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 311
to travel so far, it would be better for your health
than to stay in London during the short cold days
of Avinter, when your expense must be great, and
you can do but little for your oaati support. I am
persuaded that your native air and chmate would be
of great service for the recovery of your health ; and
so let eA'ery employment rest for a time. AYe are
concerned for the expense of your present situation,
and are sensible that you can do but httle in London
for your oaati support: yet in aU these matters we
are not judges, and must leave it to yourself to de
termine what ought to be done.
I am yours sincerely, David Wilkie.
As this is one of the last letters which the father of
the great pamter wrote, I have preserved exact its
" form and pressure," to shoAv the patriarchal style of
correspondence — a touch of simple manners — be
tween a kind father and a much beloved son. The
foUowing letter to his younger brother Thomas, Avho
was then abroad, speaks more fully of his condi
tion : — TO THOMAS WILKIE, ESQ.
Hampstead, 12th Sept. 1810.
I have now the happiness to inform you that
I am a great deal better since you Avent away. I was
enabled, the week after, to go to Mrs. Stodart of
Brompton, where I was very kindly treated, and soon
found the advantage of being out of the London air.
x 4

312 THE LIFE OF 1810.
Mr. Barclay, however, told me, that as all the inflam
matory complaints, he thought, were gone, I would
certainly improve much faster in a sharper air; as it
would be more bracing, and recommended me strongly
to go to Hampstead. This advice I was the more
induced to comply with, as I had but a few days
before received a most kind invitation from the Miss
Baillies to take possession of their house, while they
themselves were gone in the country for two months :
but as they were not yet to leave Hampstead for
some time, Mr. Barclay urged me strongly to take a
lodging. This was accordingly done, and a few days
after Mrs. Coppard came for me to Brompton, and
the day foUowing accompanied me, vrith one of her
daughters, to Hampstead. They proposed to stay aU
night, to see me properly attended to; and, from
what followed, it was very lucky for me they had
come to this resolution, for, on entering the lodging,
we found it had been newly painted, and smelt so
strongly of the oU and white lead, that I could not
stay in it for a moment, and I was forced, as it was
late in the evening, to take up my abode for that
night in a Uttle room over a baker's shop, and was
obliged to content myself next morning with such
a lodging as Mrs. Coppard could find in the extremity
to Avhich we were reduced. However, as the Miss
Baillies were to let me have their house in the
course of a week, I was the more easily satisfied, and
whatever inconvenience I have been put to, has been
fuUy recompensed by the very comfortable situation
in which I am noAV placed. You avUI recoUect where
the house is, as I called at it when you were with me

..Et.25. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 313
at Hampstead last year. It is in a very pleasant part
of the town, and has eA'ery comfort within itself that
can make it agreeable. The Aliss Baillies have left
their servants to attend me, a number of books to
read, and they have not eA'en forgot to leave me some
jeUy, some marmalade, and Scotch cheese; with all
these I haA'e such open fields to Avalk in, and fresh air
to breathe, that I haA'e improved in health most won
derfully since I came here; and I haAre not only the
prospect of getting rid of aU complaint, but of esta
blishing a stock of strength for the time to come. D. W.
TO DR. BAILLIE.
Dear Sir, [October, mo.]
I should not have taken the hberty of trou
bling you in your present retirement, had I not been
strongly urged by some friends to request you to
advise me, now that my health is in a great measure
restored, what steps I should take to secure myself
from the severities of the approaching winter.
Should you, from the nature of my complaint, con
sider a foreign climate necessary, I believe I could,
without much difficulty, go to the island of Madeira for
some months, although the obstacle of sea-sickness, to
which I am uncommonly Uable in a long voyage, may
perhaps be looked upon as an objection. If, on the
other hand, you think I might venture to stay in
England, I should wish to know whether a town or
country residence would be most proper, and how
soon you think might return to my professional

314 THE LIFE OF 1810.
labours. The improvement I have made since I first
came to Hampstead has been very great indeed; my
appetite is good, and all the disorders arising from
the stomach have, Avithout the assistance or the cor
rection of medicines, entirely left me. I am still,
however, comparatively weak and thin, and cannot
walk above six mUes on a stretch without getting
fatigued ; but I have had no return of any thing hke
a cough, and aU that remains of the pulmonary affec
tion is a shght sensation of pressure or confinement
on my chest.
I feel as yet no inconvenience from the coldness or
sharpness of this air, so far as the season has ad
vanced, and shaU probably go still farther into the
country for the greater part of next month ; but
in this, as well as in every other plan for the recovery
of my health, I shaU be entirely regulated by such
advice as you shaU think proper to communicate. D. W.
To this Dr. BaiUie replied, that he saw no immediate
necessity for exchanging the air of England for that
of Madeira : by residing in the ndld air of the Aicinity
of London, and studying Avith moderation, he would
regain the health which had been so sorely shaken.
To the accomphshed sister of his head physician he
next addressed himself.

Mt.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 315
TO MISS JOANNA BAILLIE.
Dear Aladam,
AU the good that I could have expected, or
that yourself and Aliss BaUUe could possibly have
wished me, has been produced by my residence in
your house at Hampstead. I have already almost
acquired the complete re-establishment of my health,
and as you have both contributed so much to this, I
can assure you that my gratitude for your kindness
is not inferior to the importance of the object you
have enabled me to attain. I have had every accom
modation here that could in the shghtest degree add
to my comfort or happiness. The servants have
shoAvn me every attention in their power, and I have
been amply amused in my solitary hours by the inter
esting coUection of books you have left me. The
weather has been so uncommonly fine as to enable
me to breathe the fresh air almost every hour of the
day in the open fields ; and the long confinement I
had previously undergone, seems to have given a
double rehsh to the many beauties and endless va
riety of this dehghtful spot. The time, however, is
now come when I must consider how I am to secure
myself against the severities of the approaching win
ter ; and as many of my friends have been recom
mending me to go abroad, I have taken the liberty of
enclosing a note for Dr. BaiUie, requesting him to
favour me again with his ad\ice. If he should think
such a step necessary, I shaU probably spend all the
next month with Sir George Beaumont, at Dunmow,
in Essex, and shall at aU events leave Hampstead by

316 THE LIFE OF

1810,

the 28th of this month, if that time wiU not be un
suitable to the arrangements you have made for re
turning.
D. W.
Having now recovered much of the health which
he had lost, WUkie turned his thoughts to Dunmow
in Essex, the residence for the time of his friend, Sir
George Beaumont. " The air of Dunmow," says the
benevolent baronet, " is remarkable for its salubrity ;
and as it is much enclosed — very mUd for this part
of the island. You avUI not be exposed to the piercing
blasts which meet you at every corner in London,
and as it is not so high as Hampstead, I ready think
you wUl find it much warmer. Adieu ! take care
of yourself, and comply with my request, which no
selfish consideration would induce me to make, were
I not weU assured it would be of advantage to your
health." A few days afterwards Sir George urges
the artist to escape from London to Dunmow. " I
suppose by this time your excellent and distinguished
hostesses" (Joanna BaiUie and her sister) " are re
turned, or about to return, to Hampstead ; and if that
be the case, I hope you wiU not remain long in Lon
don, which, I am sure, is bad for you. I hope, how
ever, by relaxation from thought and study, by good
hours and good air, to make you a match for the
smoky vapour and unwholesome blasts of the metro
polis." In another letter he says, " Lady Beaumont's
carriage shaU meet you at Harlowe, if you promise to
come in a post-chaise. If you come by any stage
coach you AviU be obliged to set out too early in the

^t. 25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 317
morning, orbe too late at night: and this, Avith the
addition of a sick child's head out at each AvindoAv, or
a whimsical lady who avUI insist upon having both
windows doAvn and starve you, or bolt up and suffo
cate you, avUI be sure at this season to give you a cold.
There are some picturesque cottages in this neigh
bourhood of which we may make studies ; or if you
Avish to exercise yourseU' moderately at the easel, you
shad have aU ' appliances and means to boot ;' but as
I suspect aou wUl want a moderator, I avU1, with per
mission, serve you in that capacity. I am glad you
haA'e been studying Joanna BaUhe's works; she is
indeed a most extraordinary genius. I httle expected
to see such plays as hers written in the present age,
when presumptuous innovation is the order of the day,
and has reduced poetry, paintmg, and pohtics to their
primeval rudiments."'
These anxious and generous invitations the artist
accepted by letter, adding, " I shaU not bring any co
lours with me, as it is my wish to run AvUd as much
as possible, and I am not without hope that when I
return, I shaU be able to finish my large picture (The
AdUage Festival) before the Exhibition, without ex
ceeding that moderation which has been recom
mended." From Dunmow, made doubly agreeable by
the presence of the venerable mother of his host,
AVilkie wrote to his younger brother, he experienced
much kindness from less distinguished people than
baronets and poetesses.

318 THE LIFE OF 1810.
TO THOMAS WILKIE, ESQ.
[Dunmow, n. </.]
I continued at Hampstead till the end of Oc
tober, and as I had a very kind invitation to spend
some time at Sir George Beaumont's in Essex, I re
turned to town to make preparations for that visit,
and after spending some days at Mrs. Coppard's, and
at Mr. Stodart's, of Brompton, I left London on the
6th of November, and came to this place, forty-
two mUes from toAvn, where I have been ever since
most comfortably and pleasantly situated. With the
exception of a severe bihous attack, which confined
me for a day or two, but which seemed to have no
connexion with my former complaint, and left me as
soon as my stomach was put to rights, I may say that
I am getting on as well as can be expected with the
great work of my recovery.
Before leaving Hampstead, I was advised by several
people to Avrite to Dr. BaiUie to ask if he thought it
necessary for me to go to a foreign clime to avoid the
severities of the vdnter, or if he thought any other
course would be proper the more effectuaUy to ensure
my complete recovery. In answer to Avhich questions
he said, that, as my lungs never appeared to him to
be substantially affected, he hoped it Avould not be
necessary for me to go abroad, or even very far from
London; but he thought it advisable that I should
be out of toAvn, and recommended me to take lodgings
at Brompton, or in the King's Road, Chelsea; which
advice, AAith seAreral injunctions that his letter con
tained besides, I intend most rigidly to foUow. The

Mt.25. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 319
only difficulty that occurred Avas the necessity of
leaving Mrs. Coppard; but as my exhausted means
of support prevented all possibility of returning to
my lodging in Portland Street, Avhile I kept up
another estabhshment out of town, I was obliged to
apprize her of my intention to quit after the customary
time of notice was expired. And here that lady Avas
so disinterested as to aUow me to give up the lodging
immediately, and to say that I might be Avelcome to
remain Avith her as her visiter tUl I was proAided Avith
other apartments ; but as I was anxious to retain the
lodging tUl my return from Sir George Beaumont's, I
agreed to continue to pay her rent tiU the 28th of
November, making altogether two years since my
first entrance.
AU this being settled to both our satisfactions, I
began to look out for another lodging, and by Mr.
Barclay's advice I have secured one in the King's
Road, Chelsea, at two guineas and a half per week,
including attendance ; where I hope to be in good air,
and comfortable. It consists of two sitting-rooms, a
bedroom for myself, and a spare one for you, as often
as you can get out from the place I suppose you on
your return must occupy in the city. I have taken
the apartments, however, only for six months, begin
ning on the 14th of this month ; and as Mrs. Coppard
is talking of leaving her house in Portland Street,
and intends, for the benefit of the health of her OAvn
famUy, to take a house out of toAvn, and, if she can
find one to her mind, to move to it next term, I pur
pose returning to her as a lodger, that I may have it
in my power to make her aU the return I can for

320 THE LD7E OF

1810.

her unexampled kindness. If she gets a house in
a healthy situation, and of respectable appearance,
within three or four mUes of London, I think it AviU
do. My great object is to be out of toAvn ; my
health, I think, materiaUy depends upon it ; and
it is lucky my occupation does not make it at all
inconvenient.
I had occasion about a month ago to draw upon
your account at Messrs. Anderson, CampbeU & Co.
for 201, for which I have given them a receipt. The
BoydeUs paid me the biU of 521 10s., which has carried
me on a great way. I have finished a little picture
since coming to Sir George Beaumont's ; for which I
think I may get a smaU sum that avUI be of service ;
and the sketch of The Alehouse Door, which is
stiU unsold, with the small sum I have in the 3 j>er
Cents., wiU carry me on, I hope, a good way before I
require to borrow from any body. Several of my
friends have offered to lend me money when I shaU
need. I should Avish, however, to avoid this as long
as possible. D. W.
The artist remained at Dunmow till the first week
of December; but though he took no colours with
him, and resolved to run AvUd, his natural desire to
be " doing something" soon overcame him, and seizing
the palette and pencils of Sir George Beaumont, he
painted The Gamekeeper of Dunmow in such a style
of vigour and ease as has rendered it one of Ids best
portrait productions. How the friends parted is best
told in Wilkie's OAvn Avords.

Mt.25. SHI DAVID WILKIE. 321

TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir George Portland Street, 17th Dec. 1810.
The draft of 100/. you gave me at parting on
Sunday evening so far exceeds any value the pictures
may have for wluch you intend it as a compensation,
that in justice to your goodness I cannot help attri
buting it, in a great degree, to your commiseration for
the weak and unfortunate condition to which my iU-
ness has reduced me ; but in whatever hght you may
Avish it to be considered, you have, by this, and by
your kindness to me at Dunmow, overpowered me
more Avith the sense of obligation than the warmest
thanks can express, or than any effort of gratitude can
ever be able to repay.
I got to toAvn yesterday by half past 2, and was not
at aU fatigued. I have not yet taken possession of
my new lodging, and shaU probably not leave this tUl
the end of the week. Aly address avUI then be No. 4.
Manor Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea. I hope you
avUI get on to your satisfaction with the subject you
were about to begin of Conway Castle. I am sure the
sentiment which the present disposition of Ught and
shadow gives to it wUl be very greatly admired in
London.
D.W.
It is pleasant to record the interchange, not of cour
tesy alone, but of heart and mind, between men of
genius and men of rank : the reply of the " descendant
of heroes and kings " merits preservation for the
VOL. I. Y

322 THE LIFE OF

1810.

rarity, in this land at least, of an epistle so mUd and
unaffected from the high to the humble: —
" I had no other motive, dear Wilkie, for what I
have done but a real regard and esteem for you, ad
miration of your talent, and — for the selfish motive
avUI appear — an ardent desire to possess so exceUent
a picture, not pictures. I avUI not, therefore, suffer
you to talk of obUgation. If that is to be felt in pro
portion to pleasure received (which in reason it ought
to be), I am confident I am your debtor. But if you
stiU feel the contrary, be assured you cannot so effec
tuaUy return the favour as by taking care of yourself.
In the first place, Usten to no suggestions, either of
your OAvn or started by others, that you can get the
large picture (The ViUage Festival) finished for the
Exhibition. Do not deceive yourself by means of
your physicians (who have no idea of the toU of
painting) into a notion that you may paint so many
hours every day : let your oavu feelings be your guide :
and, lastly, if in spite of aU your precautions, you find
the picture fastening upon you, or the air of the place
not agreeing Avith you, or that you are not so weU
from your want of riding, I think I need not tell you
how happy you wiU make Lady Beaumont and myself,
and none more than my mother, by re\isiting this
place. You know its advantages and disadvantages
from experience ; and there are few things would give
us more pleasure than a letter from you desiring the
horses to meet you at Harlowe on such a day. Adieu,
my worthy friend ; amuse yourself, and endeavour to
keep up your spirits ; remember that is a main point

-Et. 25. SIR DAVTD WILKIE. 323
in a nervous case, as I am confident yours is ; and if
you take care not to fatigue yourself, and resolutely
resolve to resist anxiety of aU sort, I have no doubt
of your recovering your strength, and being perhaps
better than you ever were in your Ufe. But you must
have patience, and impress strongly upon your mind,
that you are not losing, but saving, time by relax
ation." It appears from Wilkie's memoranda, as weU as
from his correspondence, that he stUl continued to be a
sufferer. By the advice of Dr. BaUlie, he had removed
from Portland Street to Alanor Terrace, King's Road,
Chelsea, where the air was gentler, and where he
might indulge himself in long walks. His health began
to mend a Uttle ; his love of observation returned ; nor
could aU the remonstrances of his friends restrain him
from the easel. He retouched old pictures, and he
imagined new : among the former was the picture of
Sir George Beaumont's Gamekeeper, and among the
latter was a picture representing Chelsea Pensioners
indulging themselves at Pension Time ; the halt, and
the lame, and the blind were there — aU old and aU
joyous: — save the JoUy Beggars of Burns, no such
group ever before dawned upon the eye of genius ; a
group iU exchanged for even the admirable picture
of The Waterloo Gazette, into which it finally re
solved itself.
WUkie obeyed the injunctions of his friends and
his oaati fears, and abstained for a time from large
compositions; but his sense of his oaati dependence
and love of his art would not aUow him to be whoUy
y 2

324

THE LIFE OF isn.

idle. For Lord Mulgrave he painted sketches of The
Card Players, The Jew's Harp, The Cut Finger, The
Rent Day, The VUlage Politicians, and The Blind
Fiddler : some of these approached in merit the ori
ginal pictures ; they had aU their careful freedom of
touch and vigour of character and colour, and their
inimitable stamp of original thought. To The VUlage
Festival, as his health improved, he next turned his
attention ; but it was with the resolution, if finished
to his hking, to add it to his other pictures, and form
an exhibition of his own, where no envious mind
could distract his arrangement by flinging its flaring
colours amid his soberer hues ; and where no timidity
of judgment could make him retire before an inferior
rival. He kept this resolution, however, to himself
for a time.
The affection of Sir George Beaumont foUowed
WUkie to London. " I am so anxious," he says,
Jan. 15th, 1811, "to hear some report of your health
which can be rehed on, that I must write : I desire
only one line in return to tell me how you go on : I
hope you abstain from paintmg, if you find it fatigues
you. Depend upon it, you avUI lose no time in the
end: trust to your OAvn feehngs respecting this. I
repeat, your physicians cannot judge in this case;
they naturaUy consider it in the Ught of relaxation
and pleasure; but they cannot judge of the labour of
the relaxation or the anxiety of the pleasure. I hope
you wiU not think me impatient if I wish to see my
picture (The Gamekeeper). When can you spare it?
Is a frame made ? Poor Sir Francis Bourgeois ! what
mortality in the Academy ! "

Mt.26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 325

TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir George, 4. Manor Terrace, 26th Jan. 1811.
Charpentier has got the frame ready, and AviU
send it to-day carefuUy packed up Avith the picture. I
have touched on various parts, and gone over entirely
the right sleeve of the coat. There are stiU, however, a
number of amendments I should wish to make before
it can be considered as a finished picture, but which
the present clammy and soft state of its surface pre
vents me from doing with effect.
I should like to know what pictures you are at
present engaged about ; and whether you have suc
ceeded to your own liking in any of those you were
proposing to begin. From the consultations we had
about the sketches, I feel interested in knoAving which
you are going on with, and desirous that you should
have several of them ready for the Exhibition. The
late falling off among our members avUI make your
assistance very acceptable. I hope you stUl keep in
mind the request of Miss Joanna BaiUie, who, I am
sure, wUl be exceedingly gratified by any picture that
you wUl think proper to fix upon.
I shaU look for you in town, now, in little more
than a month, and shall expect to have a caU from
you at my lodging in the King's Road, which, from
its airy situation, I dare say you wiU like very much.
I hve still very retired, but am at no loss at aU for
amusement. My health is better now than I think it
has been in the whole course of my recovery. I feel
stouter, and am able to paint longer without getting
y 3

326 THE LIFE OF

1811.

fatigued; but as I accustomed myself formerly to take
too much exercise, I have altered my plan lately,
and have found my account in being a httle more
moderate. D. W.
I hope you wiU like the frame. The directions I
gave Charpentier were to make a flat French frame,
about four inches broad.
" The picture," replies Sir George, " arrived safe
last night. It is very flattering to me that you should
feel anxious about the progress of my pictures. I
began the Conway Castle which you recommended;
but the beauties the sketch suggested to your poetical
eye were of so volatUe a nature, they escaped me
in attempting to make them out ; and I have been
obhged to lay it aside for the present. I have now
been painting on that which was founded upon a
sketch made at Lord Lonsdale's, and I think it pro
ceeds rather better ; but I have been much interrupted
by other business, and you weU know how difficult it
is to recaU the mind from busmess to art. Pray teU
Miss Joanna BaUlie that I have neither forgotten my
promise nor lost my inchnation to fulfil it, but I have
not yet been able to paint such a landscape as I Avish
her to possess. I have, however, one in hand for her,
of which I have some hopes.
" Charpentier has made a pretty frame ; but I think
he loads his work too much with httle ornaments. I
like a frame with rich corners, and then more plain
in the middle. Ross, although he did not finish them
well, had an excellent pattern vrith shields at the

-Et. 26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 327
corners; I have never seen frames set off pictures
better. Charpentier's frame covers some of the pic
ture, and has put out some of the fire. I Avould not
have a hair's breadth of it lost."
WUkie once said to me, that Sir George Beaumont
had a nicety of judgment and a delicacy of feeling in
painting, surpassmg aU he had ever met with in those
who reckoned themselves critics. That he desired
excellence in the Avorks of one he loved, his letters
contain abundance of proof. " I have repeatedly,"
he thus writes on the 10th of February, " considered
your picture (The Gamekeeper) with aU the care of
which I am capable ; and the result is a confirmation
of my former opinion of its exceUence — a very little
more would, I think, render it perfect. It is with
diffidence I give my remarks to you ; and if they do
not strike you in the same Ught, burn this letter, and
think of them no more. It appears, then, to me that
at the distance required to look at the picture as a
whole, there is too great a proportion of tint, nearly
resembling the coat which gives rather a blue-black
tendency to the general hue ; this, I conceive, might
be entirely removed merely by a warm-reflected light
from the fire, smartly touching on the croAvn of the
hat, and extending to the brim ; this would warm the
lower part of the picture, and remove, at the same
time, a certain monotony which I think prevaUs over
the group of objects placed there, and makes a httle
confusion amongst them when seen at a particular
distance. I think, also, the reflected light upon the
wall behind the head is rather too cold, but I know
y 4

328 THE LIFE OF 18H,
the difficulty of that, and am in hopes that the
varnish vdll remove that sufficiently. My last remark
is, that the bag and nightcap somehow or other do
not tell; perhaps some other colour might remedy
this, but I oavu I know not what to recommend;
however, this is of smaU. consequence, for though it
does not improve the general effect so much as I
expected, I do not think it does any harm. If you
think the remarks weU founded, and wish to re
consider the picture, the sooner I send it to you the
better, that if you do any thing it may have time to
harden before the Exhibition."
TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir George, 4- Manor Terrace, Chelsea.
The picture came safe to Portland' Street on
Saturday ; and as soon as it can be conveyed out to
this place, I shaU set to work upon it. At present I
have given directions to Charpentier to go and look
at it before it is taken out of the frame, and to alter it
so as to show the whole face of the picture. What you
have proposed in your letter about shoAving the night
cap only, and Avithout the bag, avUI be an improve
ment ; and as I happen to have a nightcap here of
the same sort as that you got me at Dunmow, I shaU
be able to do it without difficulty. We shaU be all
glad to see you in London on the 20th. I mentioned
to Miss BaiUie, whom I saw Avith her sister the other
day, that I supposed you would bring a picture to
town for her, Avhich she seemed very much pleased to
hear.
D. W.

-St. 26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 329
The death of Sir Francis Bourgeois made a vacancy
in the Royal Academy, which required to be fiUed
up. WUkie, now in his twenty-sixth year, was too
young, in the opinion of those electors Avho weigh
eminence by weight of years, and who, grey-headed
themselves when elected, are unAviUing to raise any
save the grey-headed to the like rank: there were
others who, disliking aU eminence, looked coldly on
his claims ; nor were there wanting some who, with
extreme narroAvness of soul, disliked him for the
land he came from. But his fame was of an order
that could not be Ughtly overlooked ; his manners,
too, were of that unpresuming stamp which seldom
make active enemies; and the Academy had some
reparation to make for having persuaded him to with
draw a picture of fine genius from their walls, in
dread of the rivalry of Bird. They had heard too, it
is said, that he had forgiven rather than forgotten
this unwholesome advice ; that he inclined his ear not
a Uttle to the counsels of one who had resentments of
his own against the Academy ; and that, dreading to lose
him, they resolved to secure him while they had the
power. Be that as it may, it was Avith something
Uke surprise that he received the folloAving letter
from his friend, the secretary, dated February 12th,
1811: —
Sir, I have the pleasure to acquaint you that you
were yesterday, in a general assembly, duly elected a
Royal Academician. By referring to your abstract

330 THE LIFE OF

1811.

of the laws, pages 4. and 5., you wUl perceive what
is further required, previously to the confirmation of
your election, and the delivery of your diploma.
I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
Henry Howard, Secretary.
Wilkie, who had looked up to the Royal Academy
with something of the reverence of a son, obeyed all
its rules, listened to aU its maxims, treasured up its
counsels in his heart; practised them in his hfe, be
lieved that its members rivaUed the prime ones of the
earth, and that the chair of the president outshone
the thrones of Ormez or of Ind, received this intima
tion with a sober joy peculiar to himself. Not so the
lovers of art : they rejoiced aloud to see this admission
of fresh life's-blood into the Academy, and that so
great a favourite, and one so worthy, had been
elected whUe he was yet Aigorous and young. The
public had ceased to look Avith wonder on the dark
riddles of Barry; the historical pictures of the pre
sident West found patrons Avithin the palace gate, and
httle cordial applause in country or in toAvn; the
fiery extravagance of Fuseli was cooled on the Aca
demy waUs by the frozen rigidity of Northcote ; whUe
Hilton, like a star in its daAvn, had but begun to
lighten on the earth. The classic beauty of Howard,
and the modest graces of Stothard, had already caUed
up some of that admiration Avithout which their
names are never named: CaUcott and Turner ex
celled then, as now, in native and poetic landscape;
while, in portraiture, the graceful Lawrence and the

Mt.26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 331
poetic PhUlips, though they found rivals in OAven, and
Beechey, and Shee, had the lead and kept it. Behind
these came a swarm whose names helped to sweU the
lists and buckram out the Academic body, without
adding much to its beauty or strength. To the
Academy Wilkie brought fame, acquired by works
reflecting as in a mirror the manners, customs, and
feelings of the people of Britain, in the invention of
which neither party nor history could claim a share ;
the domestic character of the land was again in the
hands of a consummate dramatist — the only one
who had appeared since the days of Hogarth.
The health of WUkie had begun to reAdve before
his election : he had resumed his studies on Anger-
stein's picture of The VUlage Festival, and finished
various sketches, the ready sale for which supplied
him with immediate bread. " It gives us great plea
sure," says Sir George Beaumont, "to hear so good
an account of your health. I scarce need say, continue
to be cautious : you, as weU as myself, are aware of
the value of health now. I wish you joy : the honour
is mutual." These concluding words refer to his
election into the ranks of the Academy. Sir George
knew the world weU enough to know that the Aca
demy, by setting the stamp of its approbation on the
artist, did for him what the honours of a coUege per
form for those Avho venture into the paths of Utera
ture. He who is not of the Academy, the world
scruples to regard as worthy; and he who is found
in the fields of Uterature without a college Ucence is
regarded as a poacher.
When the Royal Academy Exhibition opened in

332

THE LIFE OF i81Ir

May it contained two pictures by the academician
elect, viz. A Humorous Scene, and Portrait of a Game
keeper; the former exhibited The Penny Wedding,
as it were in the daAvn, and the latter was the game
keeper of Sir George Beaumont, aUuded to in the pre
ceding portion of this narrative. He had not finished
to his satisfaction The Alehouse Door; and he scru
pled to push pictures before the world Avith which he
was not pleased, in the hope of giving pleasure to
others. Some of the critics lamented he was not on
the waUs in his usual strength; and others, aware of
the cause, spoke of his illness Avith a sympathy which
did honour to that ungentle class. His constant
friend, Sir George Beaumont, Avrote to him in June,
saying, " I am inclined to recommend a little country
air. Jackson has induced me to hope for him at Cole
orton in the course of the summer, on his way north ;
and if you could contrive to accompany him, I need
not teU you it would give us great pleasure. You
might then not only receive the benefit of the air,
which certainly agrees with you, but also retire from
severer studies, and sketch landscape for back-grounds,
which would enable you to paint your next exterior
subject Avith less anxiety and much less labour."
The same generous friend thus Avrites to him from
Coleorton in July : — " As I think the picture cannot
be in better or in safer hands, I shall be obliged to
you to take The Blind Fiddler to your OAvn house ;
it avUI be gratifying to many of your friends and ad
mirers to see it with you, and I reaUy think not dis
advantageous to yourself occasionally to refer to the
simplicity of your first feeUngs, for I have observed

-Et.26. SER DAVID AVTLKIE. 333
that, in the struggle to paint better, and acquire more
execution, it is not unusual for artists to lose some
portion of that exquisite expression which was the
grace and beauty of their earher productions." The
picture of The BUnd Fiddler, reUeved from the graver
of Burnet, remained for a time with the painter : the
masterly engraving carried its fine sentiment and fine
grouping over aU Europe.

TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir George, 4- Manor Terrace, Chelsea, 15th July, 1811.
Your proposal that I shaU stiU retain the pic
ture of The BUnd Fiddler by me for some time is
exceedingly kind, considering the length of time I
have already had it. As I was anxious that it should
be returned as soon as the engraAdng was done, I took
it about a week ago, with the little picture from the
Academy, and lodged them both safe in Grosvenor
Square. I could not have kept it long, as I am about
to leave my present lodging.
There is no doubt considerable advantage to be
gained by looking occasionaUy at one's early produc
tions, but I have some doubts whether there is not
as much in seeing the effect that time and varnish
have upon the colours, as in any thing that can be de
rived from the study of the inexperienced notions of
art we generaUy see in a first picture.
The Alehouse Door is very nearly finished. The
sky, which I have always been most afraid of, is now
done, which leaves me very Uttle else to do. I ex-

334 THE LIFE OF 181 L
pect to be able to leave London by the end of this
month. D. W.
Before the little picture of The Gamekeeper went
home, Charpentier repaired the frame, and I put
some touches on the sleeves of the man's coat, which
had been a httle rubbed.

Mt.26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 335

CHAPTER X.
CULTS  AATLKIE EXHIBITS HIS PICTURES IN PALL-MALL. — CATA
LOGUE OF THE EXHIBITION.  DEATH OF THE REV. LVAVTD WILKIE.
 LETTERS TO MISS AVILKIE.  " BLDfDMAN's BUFF."  AVTLKIE
TAKES A HOUSE IX KENSINGTON. — ARRIVAL IN LONDON OF MRS.
AVTLKIE AND MISS AVILKIE.  "LETTER OF INTRODUCTION." 
EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL.
The declining state of his venerable father's health,
induced WUkie, before his oavu was fuUy restored, to
turn his steps to Scotland. He arrived at the manse
of Cults early in August 1811. The condition in which
he found its inmate is described in the foUoAving letter
to his brother Thomas, whom he left behind in
London : —

TO THOMAS WILKIE. Cults, 19th August, 1811.
I arrived at Kinghorn to breakfast, where I
found, to my great joy, that a stage coach had been
started from thence to Dundee, and that it set off
every day at 11 o'clock. I accordingly took a place
inside to Pitlessie  I found my father in a very
weak state, and considerably altered since I had seen
him. He has been rather worse for some weeks past.
What he complains of most is a giddiness in his head,
which not only prevents him from walking without
support, but also deprives him of the amusement of

336 THE LIFE OF 1811.
reading, even although his sight is not affected by it.
His deafness has also increased so much that we have
but very Uttle access to his mind in the way of con
versation, and I have scarcely been able to get him to
hear me speak since I came. He, however, possesses
aU his mental faculties in their fuU vigour. He Avrites
and speaks, and manages his affairs Avith his usual
acuteness, and seems very much gratified at seeing
me again. John Anderson came out the other day,
and applied some leeches to his temples to remove
the giddiness, and they have had some effect. He is
still able to walk out before the door to enjoy the air,
but does not preach any, nor has he done it for some
time. The sacrament was administered entirely by
the neighbouring ministers.
My mother was exceedingly glad to see me. She
has had a great deal of anxiety and fatigue of late,
in consequence of my father's illness, but seems to
bear it very weU, and is apparently in good health.
Helen has groAvn very much, and is greatly improved
in her music and singing, in both of which she shows
more taste than any person I have seen for some
time. There are considerable alterations in the appear
ance of this place, principaUy from their having cut
down all the trees round the bottom of the garden
and pigeon-house, a sort of improvement I do not
much admire. Lady Mary Crawford is carrying on
very great Avorks at the lodge. She has reared an
immensely large Gothic castle, but having quarreUed
Avith the architect she has employed another, who is
completing it after a different plan. One end is a

Mt.26. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 337
castle, and the other is a large Gothic chapel ; but
notwithstanding this absurdity, it has a. very mag
nificent appearance. D. W.
The foUoAving is in the same anxious spirit : —

TO THOMAS WILKIE.
Cults, 11th September, 1811.
My father's state of health stiU continues very
changeable. He is some days wonderfully weU ; and is
occasionaUy quite overcome, at other times, with sen
sations that he cannot explain, but which frequently
occasion sickness and vomiting. This, and the sup
position which we have lately begun to entertain of
its arising from a fulness of blood, obhge us to keep
him on very low diet ; and we think, upon the whole,
that it agrees better with him than the plan of giving
him strengthening medicines, which was formerly
adopted. He is Arery weak, but is always able to
come down to the parlour through the day, and to
walk about, with the assistance of an arm, on the
green before the door. When I first came, John
Anderson apphed three leeches to his temples, which
did him no harm ; we afterwards had Dr. Grace out to
see him, who so far approved of John's plan, that he
ordered half a dozen more leeches to be apphed in a
day or two, which was done, and we think, upon the
whole, that they have wrought a good. He is still,
however, subject to those nervous attacks, and we
vol. i. z

338 THE LIFE OF 1811.
wiU, perhaps, have another consultation before the
plan is further persisted in. D. W.
During the period of his visit to Cults, Wilkie re
newed his acquaintance with the scenes and the com
panions of his youth ; and coming Avith an eye and a
mind directed and purified by true art, he was enabled
to select objects of the order and character of the
works which dwelt in his fancy, and which he had
resolved to commit to canvas. He had, he has been
heard to say, formerly fiUed his sack with chaff as
weU as Avith corn; but knowledge had enabled him
to winnow it, and retain only the sound and the
pure. He returned to London on the 27th of October.
WhUe he was in the north, his brother Thomas,
by his desire, had taken a new abode at Kensington,
then, as now, famed for salubrity, and when he ar
rived he found his easel already set up, and his paint
ing room in order. He instantly began his studies,
for he had taxed his now renewed strength to a new
toil : he first, however, aUayed a fear which had arisen
in his mother's mind.

TO MISS WILKIE.

¦»«¦ t rt. . 29. Lower Phillimore Place, Kensington,
My dear Sister, isthNov. i8ii.
The anxiety my mother has laboured under
about my health, on seeing that I had not with my
OAvn hand directed the newspaper, is entirely ground-

.2Et.26. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 339
less. I am as AA-ell now as I have been for a very long
time, and am going on Avith the painting in my usual
moderate way. I am sometimes glad to get any body
to direct the newspaper on the Monday forenoon, for
the sake of saAdng time, which is an important con
sideration in these short days. Every body I meet
Avith compliments me on the improvement of my looks,
and I am taking aU the means in my power to retain
my improved appearance. I dine, as formerly, at 2
o'clock, paint two hours in the forenoon and two hours
in the afternoon, and take a short walk in the park or
through the fields tAvice a day. I have been now
three weeks in this place, but very few people know
of my return, so that I have aU my time to myself.
The picture of The Rat Catcher is now nearly finished,
and I expect to begin the oU sketch of The Blind
Man's Buff very soon. In the evening I go on with
the mathematics, which I take great dehght in, and I
have also begun a system of algebra, a study I should
Uke to learn something of too.
Although you say you wrote me sooner at my
mother's request than you otherwise intended, I was
anxious enough before your letter came to know how
my father was doing. I am sorry to hear that his
deafness has increased ; but if he is able to read so
much as you say, he must be a good deal better than
when I left you. I hope he takes aU proper care not
to fatigue himself with it. I beg you wiU write as
often as you can, and inform us of our father's health.
I shaU be always glad to hear of all that is doing in
the neighbourhood,* not from any curiosity to know the
tittle-tattle of the place, but that I may be able to in-
z 2

340 THE LIFE OF 1811.
terfere, in case the interest of my father or mother
may be in any degree affected by what is going on.
I am glad to hear you were to have the honour of
calling on Lady Mary, and I hope you were weU re
ceived. I cannot make out who it is that intends to
compliment me by naming a son after me ; we must
contrive to give the Uttle fellow a frock, whoever it
be. Mr. Haydon has been out to see me several times.
I showed him the last time he was here the sketch I
had made in pencil of you, which he was quite de
lighted with. He said, he supposed you were more
like me than any other of the fandly, though ten
thousand times handsomer. It has now gone to town
to be put in a frame, and I intend to hang it up in
my room. Unfortunately, Thomas says he cannot
discover the smaUest resemblance in it.
Mrs. Coppard* and her fandly I of course see Aery
frequently; they stiU continue their former kindness.
I sit always by myself, but I find it very pleasant to
have them so near me. D.W.
The task to which WUkie had taxed his strength,
he, as early as the beginning of the year 1808, com
municated to his brother Thomas, whom he consulted
in all his designs. " I am at present considering," he
said, " about entering into some very extensive specu
lations respecting the exhibition of my pictures, which
some of my friends, whose advice I value on such
* Mrs. Coppard had removed from Great Portland Street, Marylebone,
to No. 29. Lower Phillimore Place, Kensington; from whence Wilkie
writes this letter.

iET.26. SLR DAVID WILKIE. ,'541
matters, flatter me wUl be a very profitable con
cern." He now retouched some of his early pictures,
finished those which were in progress, and even con
ceived others entirely ucav, that his exhibition might
have novelty as weU as variety to recommend it. As
soon as he had settled his plans and made his arrange
ments, he hastened to inform his friend, Sir George
Beaumont, of this speculation.

TO SLR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
¦»>. .-••/-< 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington,
Dear Sir George, 10th March, 1812.
The intention I once had of making an exhi
bition of aU my oavu pictures I have again revived ;
and, after most mature consideration and advice, have
resolved upon carrying it into effect this ensuing
spring. As you yourself so strongly recommended me such
a step formerly, I do not doubt but you AviU approve
of it now; and, from the regard you have so often
shown for the advancement of my interests, I in some
degree calculate upon your steady support in an un
dertaking in which they are so deeply concerned. I
shaU be glad Avhen you come to toAvn, in order that I
may consult you about the various parts of my plan ;
but as I have already resolved upon it, I cannot delay
acquainting you Avith my intention, and the progress
that it has already made.
I have engaged a very handsome room in Pall MaU,
nearly opposite the British Gallery, Avhich, from its
z 3

342 THE LIFE OF 1812.
size and entrance, is particularly adapted for my pur
pose, and, from its situation, as highly respectable as
any in London. The next step of importance was
that of securing the promise of Mr. Angerstein's pic
ture, which I have obtained with that sort of readiness
and good-AviU as leads me to think that Mr. Anger
stein himself avUI take an interest in the success of the
concern. AU the other pictures that are Avithin my
reach I am now about to apply for, and, amongst the
number, the two I had the honour to paint for you.
These, however, I apply for in the same way as I have
apphed for Lord Mulgra\re's, more out of matter of
form than serious solicitation. The others, particu
larly that belonging to the Duke of Gloucester, I shaU
have greater difficulty in asking for ; and, as I intend
to couple with my solicitation for the picture a re
quest that his Royal Highness would be pleased to
countenance my Exhibition, I must proceed with the
caution that the importance of the object wiU require.
The picture that I sent to Scotland some years ago of
The Country Fair we have also thought worth whUe
to have among the number, and I have already given
directions to have it sent up by sea on purpose. I
saw it when I was last in Scotland; and, although it
is no doubt very badly painted, it has more subject
and more entertainment in it than any three pictures
I have since painted.
In the management of every thing, and indeed in
the notion of having the exhibition at all, I have been
more regulated by the opinion of my friends than by
my own judgment. Lord Mulgrave is most heartily
interested in carrying it through, and Seguier speaks

.St. 27. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 343
Avith more than usual confidence of its success. It is
not yet knoAvn to many people, but after aU the pic
tures have been secured, I intend to advertise it
publicly. D. W.
An artist seldom finds so sympathising a counseUor
as Sir George Beaumont, who AATote, saying : — " It is
Avith the greatest pleasure I hear of your intention ;
and although I cannot be sure your success AviU be so
great as if the exhibition had taken place when the
pubhc were under the influence of their first surprise
— for ' there is a tide in the affairs of men' — yet I
have no doubt of its being Aery productive. I am
particularly glad to hear you refer to your earher
pictures Asith respect, for, beheve me, there is in the
first feelings of a man of genius a simphcity and truth
which, as he advances in practical skiU, wUl, Avithout
continual attention, be very apt to be lost in the
struggle to excel: simphcity is the vital principle of
the hne you have chosen. Deep pathos, although I
think you are quite equal to it, you do not appear to
aim at : satire and broad humour are not perhaps
congenial to your feehngs ; what remains then is the
amenity of humble Ufe, dashed Avith a proper propor
tion of comic pleasantry. In this line — in The Bhnd
Fiddler, &c. — you have succeeded to the admiration
of the world. I only wish to caution you against too
great anxiety : there are various Avays by which
sudden and early fame may be injurious to an artist.
From vanity, you are not in the smaUest danger ; but
if your anxiety to excel is not restrained Avithin due
z 4

344 THE LIFE OF 1812.
bounds, you will perhaps expect more than it is pos
sible to perform ; your progress wiU be impeded, you
will proceed slowly and not surely, and your health
avUI suffer. Another evd may arise from a morbid or
unreasonable effort to excel what you have before
done. You may be induced to quit your ground, and
be in great danger of losing your native simphcity. It
appears to me that you can never improve upon the
simplicity of your first intentions : the notion of en
deavouring to improve upon them by an introduction
of more taste or refinement is extremely dangerous :
aU tAvisted figures, or even a tendency to the antique,
are not, in my opinion, admissible. Beauty, indeed,
may be introduced, but it should be perfectly rural
and unsophisticated. In short, The VUlage Politi
cians, The Blind Fiddler, and The Rent Day, are
models of what I mean : I may be mistaken, but at
any rate I think I may promise myself you wiU for
give my zeal for your success. I have been accused
by high authority of having injured you by indiscri
minate praise : I hope such is not the case, for I am
well aware that it is as much the duty of a real
friend to find fault as to commend ; and as it is cer
tainly less pleasant, perhaps it is the most meritorious
exertion of the two."
Wilkie was now employed in preparations for his
exhibition. To him this was a great and an anxious
work, involving considerable expense and labour : it
was one too of doubtful success, for there were not
wanting men who prophesied the fadure of aU coUec-
tions which were not made up of high history, and
who hinted that Wilkie's friends had been patronizing

Mt.27. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 345
a style destructive to epic art, and which, not coming
from such high sources, could not stand. Nor did
the undertaking give offence to such alone : his bre
thren of the Royal Academy avc re indignant that an
independent and separate exhibition should be opened,
which was likely to aUure customers from their OAvn
coUection. WUkie, with aU his mildness, was, it ap
pears, unable to appease them.
TO MISS WILKLE.
, , , c ¦ j. -9- Phillimore Place, Kensington,
Alv dear bister, 29th March, 1812.
I am exceedingly glad to find that my father
is so much better, and that he is able to walk out
again. I am always anxious to hear how he is, and
shaU be glad if you wUl, on that account, write to me
as often as you can.
You wUl before now have received a letter from
John in Lrdia. I had one from him at the same time
enclosing a draft for 30/., which he desires me to ad
vance immediately to my father, without waiting for
the three months tiU the bUl becomes due. This I
have accordingly done, and you will find enclosed a
bank post bUl for the amount, payable at Cupar on
demand. I am now engaged with a very great work, that of
forming an exhibition of aU the pictures I have
painted. This is what I have been long adAised to do ;
and although nothing of the kind has ever been done
before, I have reason to think it avUI be attended
with great success. I have engaged a very handsome

346 THE LIFE OF 1812.
room for the purpose in PaU MaU, and have, Avith
considerable difficulty, succeeded in getting aU my
pictures. Mr. Kinnear has most kindly consented to
send the picture of The Fair ; and Mr. Angerstein, in
the most ready manner, to aUow of my exhibiting
The Alehouse Door. The Duke of Gloucester, Lord
Mulgrave, Lord Mansfield, and Sir George Beaumont,
have, Avith equal readiness, agreed to lend me the
pictures I painted for them; and indeed aU, though
some have been a Uttle backward, have at length
compUed. I have got so far on with my plan, that I have al
ready advertised it in aU the newspapers ; and from
the attention it has already excited, I think it avUI
make a great noise. I am in hopes of getting the
Prince Regent and the Duke of Gloucester to the
private view.
The exhibition requires me to lay out a great deal
of money ; and I have to go to town on my pony al
most every day. I expect it to open some time in
AprU, and wiU continue it open for near two months.
It is giving great offence to some of my brethren of
the Royal Academy, which I am doing aU that I can
to pacify, although I cannot entirely remove their
dissatisfaction. D. W.
To sooth the Royal Academy, WUkie presented,
first, his diploma picture, a smaU but clever per
formance — Boys digging for Rats, in which the
eager boys, and the no less eager bristling terriers,
the former digging with all their might, and the

Mt.27. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 317
latter snuffing the scent and trembling Avith impa
tience, form a scene aU life and truth ; and, secondly,
he prepared for their exhibition, a sketch of The Vil
lage FestiA'al, from his large picture of that name, and
a sketch of Blindman's Buff, from a picture Avhich he
had then on the easel for the Prince Regent. But he
had others to propitiate before he could secure a full
exhibition of his works ; for his pictures were already
Avidely scattered. To obtain The ViUage Festival, he
Avrote to its proprietor.
TO JOHN JULIUS ANGERSTEIN, ESQ.
Jsjjr- 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington, 3d March, 1812.
As I have been strongly advised by my friends
to make an exhibition, by themselves, of all the pic
tures I have painted ; and as I have reason to think
the ensuing spring would be favourable for it, I wish
most anxiously to know whether you would aUow me
to have the picture I had the honour of painting for
you to exhibit among the number, as, from its sub
ject, it wUl be of much greater consequence to the
success of my plan than any other picture I have at
present to offer to the public. I have already engaged
a very handsome room for the purpose, in Pall MaU,
nearly opposite the British GaUery; and, as the pro
posed exhibition avUI be carried on in my oaati name,
regard for professional reputation AviU obhge me to
see it conducted Avith the greatest possible respecta-
bUity. The time of its commencement will be the
beginning of May, and it might probably continue
open for about six weeks; but in order to remove

348 THE LLFE OF 1812.
from your mind any unfavourable impression which
the appearance of opposition to the Royal Academy
might occasion, I have particularly to state that it is
by no means concerted with any view of interfering
with that institution : my object in risking such an
undertaking being solely that of deriving some ad
vantage from it in point of emolument.
If, in consideration of these circumstances, you
would be so kind as to allow me to have the picture
for the necessary time, I shaU esteem it as a very great
obligation in addition to those I have already to ac
knowledge. I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your most obhged and obedient Servant,
D. Wllkle.
He had already obtained the Earl of Mansfield's
consent to exhibit the picture of The VUlage Poli
ticians, which he justly regarded as the foundation of
his fame ; the foUowing letter adds a request for leave
to have it engraved.
TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF MANSFIELD.
¦», T , 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington,
My Lord, 24th April, 1 8 12.
Since I had the honour of waiting on your
Lordship, I have consulted with Mr. Raimbach about
the time he might take to make a finished engraving of
the picture of The VUlage Politicians ; and he as well
as myself are of opinion, that if your Lordship would
allow the engraving to be begun soon after the close
of my exhibition, and if it Avere convenient to spare

Mt.27. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 349
the picture for eight or nine months in the year, or
during your Lordship's absence from toAvn, the Avork
might be carried on until it is entirely completed,
without suffering any very material interruption. I
must acknowledge, indeed, that I am rather gratified
by the reluctance your Lordship has expressed to part
Avith the picture for so long a period as a year and a
haK or two years, as it flatters me with the idea of
your Lordship's favourable opinion of it; but as I do
not think or fine engraving can be made from it in
a shorter time, and as the objection may probably be
obviated by the proposed arrangement, it remains for
me only to add, that should my present request meet
AAith your Lordship's favourable consideration, it avUI
confer upon me an obUgation of no very hght im
portance. I have the honour to be, my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obedient humble Servant,
D. Wllkte.
For the picture of The Man Avith the Girl's Cap,
he made his request to the noble proprietor, Lord de
DunstanviUe.

, r T n 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington,
My Lord, 18th March, 1812.
As I haA'e formed a resolution, by the advice
of some friends, of making, this spring, an exhibition
of aU the pictures I have painted, and have already
engaged a room for the purpose in PaU Mall, I shall
be particularly obhged if your Lordship avUI aUow me
the smaU picture of The Man Dancing with the Girl's

350 THE LIFE OF 1812.
Cap for the time necessary to its being exhibited
among the number.
I have also to beg, in addition to this favour, that
your Lordship would be pleased to honour the under
taking itself Avith your countenance and recommend
ation. I am, my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obhged Servant,
D. Wllkle.
He last of all soUcited the Prince Regent, through
West the president, a man ever ready to obhge.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE REGENT.
Mr. West having communicated to Mr. Wilkie that
it is the pleasure of His Royal Highness the Prince
Regent to possess a subject of his painting, Mr. Wilkie
has, in obedience to the Royal Command, proceeded
with a picture, the completion of which has, from a
long iUness, been greatly protracted; but which,
when finished, avUI, he humbly hopes, be honoured
with his Royal Highness's approbation ; and he here
most humbly prays, that his Royal Highness avUI be
graciously pleased to grant him permission to ex
hibit the picture, in its present state, in a smaU
exhibition he is about to make of aU the pictures he
has painted, as he could not presume Avithout such
high authority to include a picture, even in an un
finished state, Avhich, in the event of its being
approved of by his Royal Highness, may afterward^

Mt.27. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 351
when finished, be honoured Avith a place in his Royal
Highness's coUection.
Kensington, 19th March, 1812.
To aU these requests the artist received consenting
rephes ; Avith which he admitted he was sensibly gra
tified: so hiring a room at 87. PaU MaU, arranging
his pictures, so that they might get as nearly as pos
sible the Ught which they required, and appointing
Thomas MacDonald, an Edinburgh Academy acquaint
ance, and then a printseUer in London, the keeper,
at a salary of four guineas per week, WUkie opened
the doors of his Exhibition on the first day of May.
The visiters were eager and numerous : the charm
seemed not to have departed from any of his pictures ;
nor were the critics very captious, though the old
complaint about pauper painting was raised by Haz-
Utt, and re-echoed by all who, unable to perceive the
original merit of the coUection, demanded pictures in
the sublime style of Michael Angelo and Raphael.
The catalogue is now as rare as it is curious: —
A Catalogue of the Pictures painted by D.
Wllkte, R. A., now exhibiting at 87. Pall Mall :
Admittance one Shilling; Catalogues, gratis.

Those that have been exhibited at the Royal Academy
are marked thus *.

No. Date.
1 The New Coat, from the tale of Jeannot and
Colin. — Voltaire - 1807
2* ViUage Pohticians - 1806

352 THE LIFE OF 1812.
No. Date.
3* A Gamekeeper - - 1811
4 Blindman's Buff (unfinished).
5 Jew's Harp - - - 1808
6* Blind Fiddler - 1806
7* The Cut Finger - - 1809
8 The Sick Lady - - - - 1808
9 The Village Holiday - - - -1811
In the principal Group of this Picture, a Man is represented
hesitating whether to go home with his Wife, or remain
with his Companions at the Public-house.
" On ae hand drink's deadly poison,
Bare ilk firm resolve awa' ;
On the i'ther, Jean's condition
Rave his very heart in twa." — Macneil.
10 A Family Picture - - - 1810
11 Portraits of a Clergyman and his Wife - 1807
12* The Bent Day - - - - 1807
13 Portrait of a Lady of Quality - - 1807
14 Alfred reprimanded by the Neatherd's Wife for
his Inattention to the Toasting of her Cakes
(History of England) - 1806
15* The Wardrobe Bansacked - - 1810
16* The Card Players - - - 1808
17 The Sunday Morning - - - 1805
18 Sketch of The Blind Fiddler.
19  of the Village Politicians.
20  of the Wardrobe Bansacked.
21  of the Sick Lady.
22 The Country Fair f - 1804
23 Sketch of the Jew's Harp.
\ This is one of the Artist's earliest pictures : most ofthe figures in it
are portraits of the inhabitants of a small village in Scotland, where the
Fair is annually held, and near to which the picture was painted. — W.

Mt.27. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 353
No. I )ato.
24 Sketch of the Bent Day.
25  of Boys Digging for Bats * 1811
26  of Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage.
27  of the Card Players.
28  of the Cut Finger.
29 Study from Nature of a Gipsy Woman and Child. 1810
This exhibition extended, if it did not raise any
higher, the fame of Wilkie. Those who had a taste for
the country nature of a distant people, crowded to
Pitlessie Fair ; while those who preferred the more
pohte joys of old England found amusement, and
mirth, too, in The Blindman's Buff. But the esta
bUshed Ughts of the collection were The VUlage
PoUticians, The BUnd Fiddler, The VUlage Festival,
The Rent Day, The JeVs Harp, The Wardrobe Ran
sacked, and The Cut Finger.
Exhibitions of this kind are seldom profitable : the
pubhc desire more varied entertainment than the
genius of one man is likely to render ; the outlay is
certain and the income unsure. The whole expense
of the speculation, including seventy-two pounds for
advertisements, sixteen pounds for newspaper para
graphs, and sixty-five pounds for the rent of the room,
amounted to four hundred and fourteen pounds. Of
the profits there is no account in the memorandum
book which contains the outlay : the artist used to
shake his head when any one enquired about the suc
cess of his exhibition. And yet, out of this specula-
* The Picture, of which this is a sketch, was painted last year, and is
placed in the Council-room of the Royal Academy, as a Diploma Pic
ture.— W.
VOL. I. A A

354 THE LIFE OF 1812.
tion came one of the finest, as it is assuredly the
saddest, of aU his compositions: among his memo
randa appears the folloAving entry : — " Paid, May the
20th, for the picture of The ViUage Holiday, dis
trained for rent, due from Thomas WUson to Ant.
Harding, for the premises at 87. Pall Mall, 321. Os. 0d."
There is no intimation that this money was paid back;
but in the law which' obhged him to pay a debt which
he never incurred, there is, I beheve, a remedy, and
which I have no doubt he had recourse to. To the
trouble which this untoward event caused, I am told,
on such authority as I cannot question, that we owe
the picture of Distraining for Rent. When did vex
ation produce such fruit? The exhibition closed on
the 2d of June ; that of the Royal Academy soon fol
lowed, and both aided in sustaining and extending
the fame of Wilkie.
Health had now returned, and the artist wrought
to make up for lost time Avith a dihgence which
alarmed his friends. Of these Lord Mulgrave, a noble
man as kind as he was amiable, to aUure him from
studies which threatened the worst consequences,
united with his lady in persuading him to visit Mul
grave Castle, of the beauties of which he had got a
glimpse in the year 1807. His visit Avas made in the
shooting season, and thus he speaks of it : —
TO THOMAS WILKLE.
My dear Brother, Mulgrave Castle, 5th Sept. 1812.
I should have written to you by a frank had
it not so happened that Lord Mulgrave left this place

Mt.27. SIR DAA'ID AVILK1K. .'!55
for Scarborough soon after I arrived. This need not,
however, preA7ent you from directing your letters for
me under C0Arer to his lordship, as he is expected back
in the course of four days. I left Dr. Thomson's on
TuesdaA' last as I intended, but got no further on
that day than Huntmgdon, being detained there aU
night by the pressing importunities of some friends.
Next morning I got on to Stamford, but as no coach
passed through that toAvn for York till ten at night,
I spent the intermediate time in seeing Burleigh
House, a place I had long vvished to see for its pic
tures ; and although they did not come up to my
expectation, the house and furniture together inte
rested me greatly. I traveUed aU night, and reached
York in very good time next day to see the cathedral,
and to get some rest, preAious to the setting out of
the maU for Whitby, and, after a second night's tra
velling, which I find has done me no harm, I reached
Lord Mulgrave's Avith perfect ease yesterday morning.
I found Lord Mulgrave, General Phipps, and Lord
Xormanby, preparing to go to Scarborough, the bo
rough the General represents, but as they are only to
meet the Corporation, they expect to return by Tues
day. I am at present therefore Avith Lady Mulgrave
and the young family, whose company I find exceed
mgly agreeable. I have been exploring the roads
with them, and have great dehght in finding out the
places I was formerly acquainted with, and in dis
covering the improvements that have since been
made. My time must of course be very idly spent,
but I find my health so far very greatly improved by
a a 2

356 THE LIFE OF 1812.
it, and shall not scruple therefore to persist in it tiU I
return.
D.W.
Wherever Wilkie went, painting was seldom out of
his head; though he had not the pened in his hand,
he had an eye which aUowed no useful character or
posture to escape, and a memory which retained the
impression as surely as a book.
TO THOMAS WILKIE.
Mulgrave Castle, 11th Sept. 1812.
I have been amusing myself in every sort of
way here but that of painting, and I have been out
twice shooting partridges for the first time I ever
tried the sport. The first day I shot a crow flying
over our heads, but the second day was so fortunate
as to kill a partridge. I go out with the gamekeeper,
and we travel on ponies to the ground where the game
is to be found. He manages the dogs, and as soon as
a covey is raised we both fire as weU as we can.
I do not remember any thing else to mention. My
friends here are exceedingly kind, but I must try to
be in London by the end of the month.
D. W.
He tired of the magnificent hospitality of Mulgrave
Castle, of the pleasure of shooting at — for he only
sometimes drew blood — partridges and pheasants,
and, longing for the easel, again returned to Kensing
ton on the 1st of October, with improved health and

.2ET.27. SIR DAVID WILKIE. i,l)7
renewed spirits. " I got to PhiUimore Place last
night," he thus wrote to his brother Thomas, " one
day later than I intended, and am now putting every
thing to rights with a view of setting to work as soon
as possible. I shaU expect you early on Sunday : I
have asked Haydon to dinner, and intend to astonish
you both in the second course with a hare of my own
shooting." The declining state of his father's health seems to
have dwelt much on Wilkie's mind at this time. Va
rious attempts had been made to provide a helper, as
an assistant is caUed in the north, to ease him in the
performance of duties Avhich were pressmg sorely on
him ; but many obstacles, some of a conscientious na
ture, interposed. At length the welcome inteUigence
arrived, that the aid which was sought was found. To
his sister, who could now sympathise in his joys and
his sorrows, he thus wrote on the 26th of October : —
My dear Sister, 29- Phiiiimore Place.
I am exceedingly rejoiced to hear of our suc
cess at last in getting a helper for my father. I had
a letter from Mr. Lister at the same time with your
own, in answer to one I had Avritten to him upon the
subject, and from aU that I learn from him and from
yourself, I am inclined to form a most favourable
opinion of the young man appointed. The terms,
upon reflection, are certainly high. The 40/. salary,
in addition to the lodging and maintenance, in what
ever way they can be contrived or computed, wiU cer
tainly come to more than the 60/. we had intended as
the extent of our offer ; but, taking it independent of
aa 3

358 THE LIFE OF 1812.
the terms, I do not see any great objection to his being
taken into the house, considering the recommendations
that those people are inchned to give him in whose
house he lived before. There is no doubt something
awkward in having a stranger constantly at one's
table ; but this vdll wear off in the course of a short
time, and you may even find some compensation in his
company when you get better acquainted with him.
It wdl make his situation much more respectable than
if he were Uving in any other house in the parish, and
certainly much more convenient for aU parties than
his being at Cupar, or at any place of an equal dis
tance. I had written to Mr. Lister proposing a scheme for
his consideration, which is now unnecessary. His at
tention in the whole of this business has been most
friendly, and of especial service. When Mr. Glen
commences his labours I shaU be glad, to knoAV. It
wUl be proper to arrange with him the periods for the
payment of his salary.
Mr. Cleghorn came to London about a Aveek ago.
He tells me that our father looks fuU as well as he did
when I was last in Scotland, from which, and from the
circumstance of his being able to preach on Sunday,
I conclude that his health is reaUy better, and I hope
that it may long continue so.
You may tell my mother that my forgetfulness in
not mentioning the arrival of the chairs does not arise
from any insensibUity of their merits. I have got
them carefully stowed in my bedroom, and have only
shown them as-yetto a few select fiiends, who, I assure
you, have admired them very much. It was at first

Mt. 27. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 359
my intention to get them altered to a modern fashion ;
but I ndw begin to think them so complete the Avay
they are, that I am on the look-out for other furni
ture to suit them ; and I think I shall be able to get
a room fitted up entirely in the same style. A friend
has advised me to try and procure another arm-chair
to make out the set. Does Mrs. Wemyss know where
the other elbow-chair Avent to? or does she think it
would be easUy got hold of ? If I could get a Turkey
carpet, an old fashioned table, a cabinet and suitable
window-curtains, my furniture for a room would be
complete. I know that style of furniture wUl look
affected, and that some avUI laugh at it ; but I have
confidence enough in the influence of my OAvn taste
to assure myself that it wUl be admired in me. Haydon
likes the chairs very much, and encourages me in my
feeling for old furniture. D. W.
David WUkie, minister of Cults, preached indeed
on the last Sunday in October to his people, and was
regarded as improving in health by his parishioners ;
but he knew that death was deahng Avith him.
Though he continued calm, and even cheerful, he only
sndled when hopes of his being heard again in the
pulpit were indulged in by his friends, and said,
looking out of the window, " I will never see the
leaves grow green on these trees again." Nor did
he : he died fuU of years, and with the tranquiUity
of a Christian, on the 1st day of December, 1812.
The feehngs of his eminent son are thus calmly ex
pressed: — A a 4

360 THE LIFE OF 1812.
TO MISS WILKLE.
My dear Sister, 29- HuUimare Flase, 7th Dec. 1812.
The melancholy relation of my dear father's
death, which James's letter has so feelingly acquainted
us Avith, has afflicted Thomas and myself very much ;
and although such an event cannot be said to have
been altogether unexpected, it has shocked us exceed
ingly, by the suddenness with which it has at last
taken place.
The arduous duties which yourself, and particu
larly my dear mother, have so long and so affection
ately discharged towards him, must have no doubt
prepared you for what has happened; but even the
recoUection of your OAvn kindness to my father,
although an invaluable consolation to your own
hearts, must now add considerably to your grief for
his loss. I can conceive what your feelings must
have been at first, and although you may have both
now got more composed, I know that it wUPbe some
time before the deep impression it must have made
on your minds can be forgotten. It is our duty,
however, to consider an affliction of this sort as
intended, by the great Disposer of ad things, for our
our good ; and while it teaches us the uncertauity of
human affairs, this consideration should fortify our
minds to meet with becoming firmness the changes it
AviU naturaUy give rise to.
Before this reaches you the funeral vdU have been
got over, and I have no doubt, but vdth the greatest
propriety, and you Avdl have probably begun to give
some serious attention to what is best to be done in

Mt. 27.

SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 361

the situation to which my dear mother and yourself
are now reduced. At the distance at Avhich I am, I
cannot offer you any advice till I hem' your OAvn sen
timents ; but Avhatever you may think proper to de
termine upon, I shall be most AvilUng to give you
eATery assistance in my power to carry into effect.
I shaU thank you to write to me very soon and very
fuUy on this subject.
As various expenses must have been incurred by
the funeral, and in getting mourning for yourselves, I
have enclosed ten pounds for my mother, to be dis
posed of as she shaU think proper. As the engage
ment Avith Mr. Glen wdl, in consequence, be at an
end, I shaU be glad to know in what way we are to
settle with him for the time he has officiated.
It is a most lucky circumstance that James hap
pened to be so near at hand, as I have no doubt but he
would be of very great assistance and comfort to my
mother. I hope he wiU be able to stay Avith you for
some time, as he may be of great service in advising
what should be done.
It is a great satisfaction to me to hear that your
friends and neighbours have been so attentive, and I
shad thank you to express to them my obligation, —
particularly to Mr. Glen and to Mr. Vial. Do write
soon, and remember me most affectionately to my
dear mother and to James.
D. W.
Mrs. Coppard and her daughters beg to be most
kindly remembered to my mother and yourself. They
are very much interested about you, and participate

362 THE LIFE OF 1812.
very sincerely in the affliction my father's death has
occasioned. They are the most affectionate people
that can be.

TO MISS WILKEE.
My dear Sister 29- Phillimore Place, 15th Dec. 1812.
Every circumstance that is at aU connected
with my father's death, or that relates to the change
it must occasion in our family, is at present particu
larly interesting to us ; and as we have no other way
to participate in the feelings with which my dear
mother and yourself must me affected than by a fre
quent correspondence, I beg that we may hear from
you as often as you can.
I Avrote to you two days after I heard of the sad
event, and sent my letter to Thomas, with directions
to enclose in it a Bank post-bUl, of Avhich my share
should be ten pounds. He added to it an equal sum,
which, considering his means, is very greatly to his
credit. AU my friends here are very much concerned at
our loss. I may particularly mention my friend
Haydon as one of the number. I sent for him as
soon as the account came, and he has been with me
several times since. He desires to be particularly
remembered to my mother and to yourself.
D. W.

Mt.27. SIR DAVID WILKIi:. 363

TO MISS WILKIE.
Ma' dear Sister, 29- Nullimorc riace, 29thDcc. 1812.
You maA' conceive how much I haA'e been
grieved and gratified Avith the letter my dear father
was writing to me so immediately before his death.
I shaU preserve it as a most sacred memorial as long
as I Uve. It cannot but be particularly pleasing to
us aU to find it expressive of the satisfaction which
the appointment of a proper helper seems to have
given to his mind, and that his former uneasiness
upon this subject had not only been completely
removed, but that he seemed to apprehend no incon
venience from the terms upon which the helper had
been engaged. I feel, indeed, when I read it, as if
I were conversing with him the same as you were
yourselves the day before his death. I shaU send a
copy of it to John in India, to whom, as he is men
tioned in it, it cannot faU to be interesting.
I have now received your own letter, and am very
glad at last to learn what my mother and yourself
would Uke best to be done. Although you have not
given me the information I requested James to en
deavour to obtain for us, you have greatly satisfied
me by mentioning aU your oavu ideas upon the pre
sent situation of our affairs. It has occurred to me,
and it has been mentioned to me by some of my
friends, that my mother and yourself might be
brought to reside with me in London ; but as I have
as yet no house of my own, I do not think (much as
I should hke to see you both here), that this would

364 THE LIFE OF 1812.
be a very practicable plan at present. I have accord
ingly been thinking what place you could get in Fife-
shire. If you go to a town, which, from what you
mention about John's children, would be best, I
would recommend St. Andrew's ; but as P. Cleghorn
teUs me that living and house-rent are high there,
from the number of new inhabitants, I have some
doubts about it. Cupar might do ; but that also hasr
to my mind, considerable objections. What you say
of Edinburgh I never thought of; but if we can be
assured that the expenses of housekeeping there are
not materially greater than in Fifeshire, I would
recommend Edinburgh by aU means. It is not, how
ever, on account of my father's relations being there,
for relations will be the same aU the world over, — it
is because I myself might be of greater service to you
in a society hke that in Edinburgh than in that of
Fifeshire; and as it would bring you thirty nules
nearer London, it would save at least a day's tra
velling in case Thomas or I were coining to see
you. It is of much greater consequence that you should
have a few friends you know and can depend upon,
than a large circle of acquaintance. I think the offer
my grandfather has made of part of his house is very
handsome, and certainly proceeds from kindness ; but
as I do not think it would be proper for my mother
to remain in the parish in a situation that might
make her less respected by the parishioners than she
was before when hving in the manse, I should decdne
it in the most respectful manner possible.
The information I wished Jaines to obtain for me

Mt. 27.

SHI DAA'ID WILKIE. 365

was the amount of the annuity my mother and pro
bably yourself are entitled to from the WidoAvs' Fund,
and also the common rent of such a house as you
avUI want. If you stUl feel inclined to go to Edin
burgh, I had better write to Mr. Lister on the subject.
WhereA-er my mother may go, she may expect to
find friends. Do you think your healths avUI not be
injured by Uving in Edinburgh? Would such a house
as Mrs. Baron's answer your purpose? I regret ex
ceedingly not being near you. You must make up
for it by Avriting as often as you can, and telhng me
every thing.
D. W.
The manse of Cults was now no longer to be the
residence of a man which had made it distinguished,
— a change in every way touching ; for the place had
become from long acquaintance endeared to the
fandly, and the famUy to the people around : to leave
a house over which such a halo of recoUection hovered
was to them a sore dispensation. Wilkie's eyes ever
glistened at the mention of Cults. The spiritual
wants of the parish craved a minister, and the minis
ter required & manse.

TO MISS WTLKIE.
-,«- -, c.. , 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington,
My dear Sister, 7th Jan. 1813.
I wish my mother and yourself many happy
returns of the season. The year that has passed
has unfortunately concluded with events of a very

366 THE LIFE OF 181?..
melancholy nature to our family ; but we may at
least hope that the worst is over, and that the
year which has begun may not only open to us
brighter and happier prospects, but that it may also
realize them to the utmost of our expectations. With'
this view I have a proposal to make, which, whatever
my mother may think of it, I know you wiU prefer
to any new-year's present I can send you. It is this :
that instead of going to Cupar, St. Andrew's, or Edin
burgh, as we were thinking of at first, my mother
and yourself must make up your minds to come to
London. This is a plan which I must say never
occurred as a practicable scheme tUl within these few
days ; but I have so weU considered it, and am now
so forcibly convinced of its propriety, that it appears
to me not only to be the best, but almost the only
line that can be pursued. I have objections in my
oaati mind to all the other places that have been men
tioned. The number of acquaintances you might
have is no recommendation to any of them ; and the
expense of hving, even with all the care that could be
observed, would render your circumstances, and our
apprehensions about you, very distressing indeed. It
is, I assure you, with very great delight that I am
enabled to make a proposal, which will not only be
of essential benefit to ourselves, but wdl also con
tribute materially to my advantage. You know it
has been long my wish to take a house in London or
its neighbourhood, and that I haA'e been chiefly pre
vented doing so by the want of furniture ; and as my
mother may noAV be able to provide me with that,
there will no longer be any difiiculty. And another

Mt. 28.

SIK DAVID WILKIE. •567

requisite that I am (perhaps fortunatel)') not yet
supphed Avith — a person to take care of my house —
wUl also be amply supplied by my mother herself. I
beg, therefore, that my mother may take this p repo
sition of mine into her most serious consideration. I
know she wdl at first have objections, and that the
length of the journey and the change in her situation
Avdl appear immense. With yourself I need no argu
ments : I know whUe you are reading this letter your
breast is beating with dehght at the thoughts of
coming to London. Endeavour to advise our mother
to this removal; but I beg she wdl not consult any
body in the neighbourhood : there is no one she can
go to who knows any thing about the matter, and
neighbours may only perplex her Avith their advice.
To prevent any hasty determination, I should Avish
her to take a week to consider of it, and she wUl be
better able to judge of its propriety herself than any
one she can consult. I cannot say that the advice
of any one has influenced me in recommending this
plan ; but I have mentioned it to some of my friends.
I spoke of it first to Mr. Stodart, who approved of it
highly ; and then to Haydon, who was dehghted, and
said that nothing could give him greater pleasure
than to see you both in London. I next mentioned
it to Mrs. Coppard, who, although it was accompanied
Avith the unpleasant intimation of the necessity I
should be under of leaving her, recommended it very
strongly, and said that it had even occurred to her
self as the best plan I could adopt a considerable
time before I mentioned it. She has, indeed, offered
me aU the assistance in her power towards carrying

368 THE LIFE OF 1813.
it into effect. I should add, that Thomas was also
consulted when he came out last, and that he also
concurs with the rest in approving of it.
The time I should propose for your coming to
London would be in May or June. D. W.
To his sister this was a welcome proposal. " I
had a letter from Helen," he thus writes his brother
Thomas : " she is surprised and deUghted with the
prospect of coming to London. My mother, as I ex
pected, is perplexed about it ; but Helen is using what
arguments she can to conAince her of its propriety."
Mrs. WUkie, a shrewd, sensible, and discerning lady,
as ever presided over the domestic estabhshment of a
manse, — was reluctant to part with Pitlessie, where
she was born, — where her father, now a venerable old
man, dwelt, — and with scenes where she had long Uved
in high esteem, and brought up with honour four
sons and a daughter.

TO MISS WILKD3.
__. , „. , 29. Phillimore Place, Kensington,
My dear Sister, 25th Jan. 1813.
I am glad to find by your letter that you are
so pleased Avith the plan of coming to London, and I
am now in hopes that the scruple which I foresaw my
mother would have may be very soon got over. The
more I reflect upon it myself the more I am convinced
of its propriety ; and every person I have mentioned it
to has, by his approbation, confirmed me in the reso-

Mt. 28.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. 369

lution I have formed. It appears to me that it AviU
be by far the cheapest plan that can be foUoAved. I
think I could keep a house, if I had it furnished, at
nearly the same expense that my present lodging costs
me : I include rent and every thing in this, and your
being Avith me would not add greatly to the expense,
and would certainly saA'e an outlay of house-rent in
another place. In addition to this, my mother and
yourself could be no where so Aved attended to as near
us, and your situations, if at a distance, would be a
perpetual source of uneasiness to us. By the time
this reaches you, I shaU therefore take it for granted
that my mother has made up her mind to the coming
south, and that the only thing that now remains to be
considered is, how our plan of operations is to be ar
ranged. -
I have been looking at a number of houses in this
neighbourhood, for about Kensington would answer
me best, from its healthy situation, and from the con
venience of coaches passing through it at aU hours of
the day. There are at present a great number of
houses to let, but they are notAvithstanding very high
in the rents, and I do not expect to get a house that
avUI answer for less than 70/. or SOL a year. AVe
shaU require a house with about ten rooms in it, in
cluding kitchen and wash-house.
I have been consulting some friends about what
sort of furniture you should bring with you from
Scotland, and I find them generally of opinion, that
you should bring only that which is valuable. I know
you avUI regret seUing many things ; but I do not
think there wUl be any great loss, as the same money
vol. I. B B

370 THE LIFE OF 1813.
AviU nearly purchase as good ones here. My father's
publication ofthe Theory of Interest should, I think, be
packed up in some box, and carefuUy brought Avith the
other things. Of the kitchen furniture I do not know
that you should bring any, except the old brass pan
for making jeUy, and any thing else you may consider
of value. There is an old Dutch press in one of the
closets that my mother got from Mrs. Birred ; what
state is that in ? If it were not an article of great
weight, might not that be brought ?
I saw Mrs. Tait some days ago, and mentioned to
her your coming to London. You cannot think how
delighted she was about it ; you Avid find her a very
kind friend when you come. She told me her brother-
in-law, Mr. Gillespie, had been appointed successor to
my father. John Anderson has been deUghted Avith
the thoughts of seeing you aU in London, and his
friend, John Wilkie, has taken a particular interest in
it, and recommends it strongly. Mrs. Coppard and
her daughters Avish that we may get some house near
them, which I also wish very much. I do not know
that there is a Scotch church near this, but there is a
chapel close by, that Mrs. Patterson, an old acquaint
ance and cousin of my father's, goes to. I think if
my mother were once accustomed to the Church of
England service, she would hke it very much. I
have enclosed a note to my grandfather, AA'hich you
may, after reading it, send under cover to him at
Pitlessie. D. W.
Having fully satisfied his mother's scruples about
removal, Wilkie had next to overcome those of his

Mt. 28.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. -'571

grandfather and grandmother, who were loth to part
Avith their daughter and their grand-daughter, new
when, in the vale of years, their society had grown as
A-aluable as it was necessary; but though he respected
their motives, he hoped better of his mother's good
sense than to fear that she Avould finaUy be guided by
them, nor did those venerable people continue obsti
nately to oppose a removal which went to reunite a
separated famUy. TO MISS WTLKD3.
My dear Sister 29- Phi!!™01"6 Place, 1st March, 1813.
I wrote you a good whUe ago, and enclosed a
note to my grandfather, explaining to him my intention
of bringing my mother and y ourself to London. To the
letter I sent you I have had an answer from Edinburgh
by a private hand, which mentions the complete con
currence of our friends in that place with the plan I
have proposed; what my grandfather's and grand
mother's sentiments are I have heard from John An
derson only ; and although their scruples and objec
tions may be very strong, I decidedly think Avith him,
that they ought to have no great weight Avith my
mother, and it is her scruples, and hers alone, that I
am anxious to remove. Of these, the change to an
other country and a new society avUI seem very great ;
but wherever she moves to from the manse of Cults
she wiU feel a change, and perhaps none would be
more irksome to her, thau to move to such a place as
my grandfather and grandmother would entirely ap
prove of. She would, I have no doubt, prefer going
bb 2

372 THE LIFE OF 1813.
to Edinburgh; but she has to consider whether she
has not still greater inducements to come to London.
She would find considerable amusement in taking
charge of a house, and would be cheered by the variety
of occurrences that are daUy taking place, whUe to
the society of Thomas and myself, which she could
not have in Edinburgh, she would have that of my
friends, who are constantly coming about me, and
although most of them are Enghsh, I conceive that
she would be greatly pleased with them.
All these things considered, I have no doubt but my
mother would soon get reconciled to this place ; and
the kindness I think she would meet with from aU my
particular friends here, would make her highly pleased
with the EngUsh people. I had a long letter from
Mr. Crokat the other day, asking me to come and
take a house near to him, as he regrets much the dis
tance I have got to ; and I have had a simUar appU
cation from a lady, a friend of Cleghorn's, who hves
in another quarter, but as I have got, in some degree,
habituated to Kensington, and find the situation
healthy and convenient, I do not intend to leave this
place if I can be accommodated at aU to my mind.
I wish to know what time it would be necessary
for my mother to leave. I was calculating that if you
were in London in June, it might answer every pur
pose. I am quite uncertain what number of the
books should be brought, but I would have all the
best ones brought to London. I beg you wiU write
soon, and be active in letting me know what can be
done. D.W.

Mt.28. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 373
Having prevailed in his wish to remove his mother
and sister to London, WUkie next proceeded to seek
such a habitation as would enable him to pursue
his oavd studies, afford accommodation for his aug
mented household, and from its situation maintain, by
fresh air and agreeable Avalks, the health Avhich had
lately cost him so much to preserve. Norton Street,
Sol's Row, Portland Street, and Manor Place, where
he painted his VUlage PoUticians, BUnd Fiddler, Jew's
Harp, Cut Finger, Rent Day, VUlage Holiday, and
BUndman's Buff, are stUl held in remembrance by aU
who feel those truly dramatic compositions : he now
made choice for his residence of 24. Lower PhiUimore
Place, Kensington, a new and handsome house, and
Avrote to his sister a description of it, which wdl be
welcome to aU, and they are many, who are curious
about the dwelling-places of men of genius.
TO MESS WILKIE.
My dear Sister, 29- PhiUimore Place, 24th March, 1813.
I have now almost entirely fixed on the house
I am to take, and that, after looking at many, and
considering weU every circumstance, is the one I
mentioned before, No. 24. PhiUimore Place, within
five doors of Mrs. Coppard's. The house is not yet
finished, but it wiU be completely so by the month of
June. The only thing that has prevented me from
concluding a bargain arises from an arrangement I
wish to make with the landlord about altering one of
the rooms to make a painting-room. The largest
rooms in the house have their AvindoAvs all to the
bb 3

374 THE LIFE OF 1813.
south, which disquahfies them from being used as
such. This reduces me to the alternative of pamting
in one of the back rooms as it now is, which would
rather confine me for room, or of enlarging it, by
making a sort of bow-window out from the back of
the house. Whatever Avay I may determine this, I
have no doubt of taking the house : it has every thing
to recommend it in point of situation, and the house
itself is elegant, commodious, and very well built.
The rooms are two kitchens, or rather a kitchen and
wash-house : these are under ground, but they have
an area all round them, vdth coal-cedars, &c. On the
floor on which you enter from the street there are two
parlours, the front one a very handsome room, and
about the size of the parlour at Cults ; the back one
much smaller. On the story above this there are two
drawing-rooms ; the principal one that looks to the
street or road is a very fine room, and opens into the
back drawing-room with large folding doors. Above
these there are two stories more, and these make four
very excellent bed-rooms. At the back of the house
is a garden, fully larger than the plot of grass before
the door at Cults, and surrounded by a very high wall.
The house is supplied with water by pipes, the same as
the houses in Edinburgh, but the house itself wiU be
fitted up in a much neater manner, and have much bet
ter accommodation than any of the houses of an equal
size in that place. My mother wdl probably think
that there will be too many rooms for us, but I engage
that we shall find use for them. I shaU require the
tAvo drawing-rooms to myself constantly, and you will
require the two parlours. Of the four bed-rooms

Mt.28. sir davtd wilkie. 375
there avUI be one for my mother and yourself, one for
me, one for the servant, and a spare one for Thomas,
Avhen he comes to see us.
I wish every thmg of the smaUer articles to be
brought that looks Uke a curiosity. The pictures,
such as the two I got premiums for, ma)' be taken off
the frames, and roUed up together; any thing else
that seems curious you may bring, but the old draAv
ings I made at Graham's Academy I reaUy think it
might be as weU to burn. The draAving of Cleghorn
is not worth sending to his famUy, so I beg you avUI
not. My father's manuscripts you may bring Avith
you, and any old china you may haA'e would certainly
be of use. The old lay figure I would rather hke
to bring.
I am to be engaged this year in arranging the pic
tures for the Exhibition at the Royal Academy. I
am to begin the week after next, and I expect it wiU
take me and the other gentlemen nearly a month. D.W.
The reader cannot faU to have remarked the me
thodical order in which the artist arranges the removal
of the fandly furniture and effects from Cults; the
care which he expresses for aU old and picturesque
things; and the desire he feels that ad to which his
parents had an attachment should be transferred to
London, so that his mother and sister should, when
they drew in their chairs and sat down in PhiUimore
Place, be surrounded by famUiar things. How many
of those household matters mingled in the domestic
scenes of his fortunes, would require a minute in-
b b 4

376 THE LIFE OF 1813.
quiry : an old Gothic chair and an old copper saucepan
were favourites ; and often, as I may say, sat for their
likenesses, and always with effect. Amid these di
rections he found time to write the foUoAving letter,
which gives a true, and as curious as true, account of
the acts and deeds of the " Hanging Committee" of
his day in arranging the pictures for the Exhibition.
TO MISS WILKIE.
My dear Sister 29. Phillimore Place, 2d May, 1813.
I was glad to find by your last letter to Tho
mas, that the delay which must take place before he
can go to Scotland Avid not be inconvenient to you.
I only hope that you have taken into account the
arrangements which Mr. Gillespie may find it neces
sary to make with regard to his ordination. Mr.
Crokat is to set off immediately for Leith with his
family, and from the explanation I have given him
of the importance of having Thomas to assist you in
your removal, I have no doubt he wiU return to set
him at liberty as soon as he can. You may now
consider what you can most easUy send before you
come yourselves ; and in this I would have you to be
regulated rather by what you can best spare, than by
what I may want. I do not think it would be worth
whUe for me to take up house tiU you come, as it
would be for so short a time ; but the more articles
of furniture I can put into the house before your
arrival, the more comfortable it avUI be for you. You
may send the books, at least those you thought most
valuable, as you proposed, in the Dutch press. Some

Mt.28. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 377
of the beds and mattresses may also be sent, and any
other pieces of furniture that you may think can be
most easdy packed up.
I have been considering, "with Thomas, what you
have said about the disposal of the money my mother
has got by her, and we arc most decidedly of opinion
that you should bring it aU to London Avith you.
What I would then recommend is to lay it out in the
pubhc funds, where you can have about five per cent.
for it. and from whence you can always remove it
at a day's notice, and Avithout giving offence to any
one. You would hear that I had been appointed to
arrange the pictures this year at the Exhibition.
I have been employed about it, with other two aca
demicians, for a month, and have now completed it
entirely. I found it a very severe labour for me at
first, but it afterwards became very agreeable, and
has improved my health amazingly. I went every
morning by the stage, and returned in the evening.
As the CouncU always dined together, and had every
other refreshment at the expense of the Academy,
you may beUeve we hved well, and found great enter
tainment in our labours. We had many a squabble,
as you may suppose, during the arrangement, about
who should have the best places; but as no one was
admitted, this was aU confined to ourselves, and
although we had the interests of aU the members to
balance, and take care of, as avcU as those of our OAvn
particular friends, and those of the many poor fellows
who had no friends, we have adjusted them all so weU
that there is not a single complaint. The first persons

378 THE LIFE OF 1813.
we thought of were our ovm three selves, as you may
suppose; and, acting on this principle, my picture of
BUndman's Buff was accordingly placed in the prin
cipal centre in the great room. After attending to
the more weighty claims, the pictures of my friends
Jackson, Robertson, and others, were put in exceUent
places, and not only is the arrangement hked as an
agreeable combination of shape and colours, but every
body seems to think it has been managed Avith the
greatest judgment and impartiality. On Friday a
great number of ladies and gentlemen were admitted
by tickets to the private view, and on Saturday we
had our great dinner, which, for the splendour of our
company, was perhaps the greatest we ever had. As
a member of the Council I was placed in a principal
situation of the room, and Mr. Raeburn as one of the
body, and as my particular friend, was placed close
by me. On my other hand were the crown Lawyers
and some members of parhament. One circumstance
which has made both of these days particularly gra
tifying to me is, that my picture for the Prince.
Regent has given the most universal satisfaction.
Every body seems to like it, and many think it is the
best I have painted. I have been told that the
Prince Regent, who saw it before it went to the
Exhibition, was also very much pleased with it. AU
this is the more dehghtful to me, as the length of
time I was in completing it was a subject of very
great uneasiness. D.W.
The next letter is a continuation of the picture.

Mt.28 SIR DAVID WILKIE. 379

TO MISS WILKIE.
My deal' Sister, -9- Phillimare Place, 17th May, 1813.
I have got aU the bustle of hanging the pictures
oA'er, and have been since that time only employed
in dinners and parties. I Avas at a very grand dinner
about a week ago, which Avas called the Commemo
ration Dinner of the late Sir Joshua Reynolds. It
was given by the Governors of the British Institution
at the opening of the Exhibition of Sir Joshua's
pictures. I was asked, as one of the Royal Academy,
and, besides a great number of the nobUity present,
we were honoured with the company of the Prince
Regent. When we were in the Exhibition room
before the dinner began, his Royal Highness, much to
my surprise, came up and spoke to me. He told me
he was delighted with the picture I had pamted for
him, and Avished me to paint, at my leisure, a com
panion picture of the same size. I of course bowed,
and said I was highly sensible of the honour. The
Marquis of Stafford, who was Avith him, then said
that I had promised to paint him a picture for several
years, but had never done it, and he was afraid he
should never get a picture from me ; when His Royal
Highness said, by way of apology, that his Lordship
should consider I had been very long iU ; and added,
turning to me, that he would be very glad to have
another picture from me, after I had satisfied the
Marquis of Stafford. You may believe it is very
gratifying to me to find the Prince so much pleased
with the picture ; I have also the happiness to find

380 THE LIFE OF 1813.
that the pubhc are so too. It attracts very great
attention in the Exhibition, and is fully as much
Uked as any I ever painted. I am now going on
with a smaUer picture : the subject of it is a young
man delivering a letter of introduction to a city gen
tleman. D.W.
The picture of Blindman's Buff, which the Prince
Regent so justly admired, sprung from the famUiar
manners of the land : it had, in an unfinished state,
attracted much notice in the artist's exhibition the
year before, and continues stUl, as an engraving, to
demand and deserve attention. The scene of the
picture is laid in the large room of a pubhc-house, in
which soldiers are quartered, and all the utensils used
in preparing good cheer are arranged on the waUs : the
limits have been on this occasion extended, by clear
ing away the tables and pihng up stools and chairs,
leaving space only for the too old or the too young to
sit and safely look on the pastime in which they are
unable to share. The sport has already commenced ;
the lot to be Blindman has faUen on a young peasant
who, with a napkin tied over his eyes, his feet feedng
their way, his hands held out, like those of Elymas
the Sorcerer, in the Cartoons, is groping for a substi
tute amid the titter of girls and the laughter of
lads. The humour of the thing consists in his at
tempts to grope out a successor, and in the resolution
of the audience to outwit and baffle him. To accom
plish this he listens to the thick breathings of his
tormenters, and makes sudden bounds in their direc-

^T.28. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 381
tion, that he may seize some one Avhom he is entitled
to blindfold and sport Avith in his turn. But this
proves no easy matter: the audience elude him by
cowering low or leaping aside ; and shout in his ear,
pull at his coat-tail, A'ex hun with jibes and mocks,
while ad the time he hurries from end to end of the
room, and from side to side, gropes on benches and
feels under them, till, badgered with odd questions,
ends of queer Aerse, and whirled about Uke a feather
in an eddy, he is either worn out, or some one from
ml '
compassion aUows himself to be caught, and renews
the fun and provokes the laughter afresh.
This rural game affords much scope for skilful in
cident and grouping, and that quaint and graceful
humour in which WUkie exceUed ; nor did he faU to
avaU himself of these advantages. There is much
fun and glee going on besides what reaUy belongs to
the game : a young man, under pretence of eluding
the BUndman, is enjoying unseen the luxury of a
true love-grip ; a young woman cowers by the side
of a settle, less to escape from the approaching hand
of the BUndman, than to enjoy the caresses of two
lovers, one of whom clasps her round the waist in
sUent ecstasy, and the other is obtaining kisses in
abundance from her wiUing Ups : two boys, in the
whirl and hurry of the scene, have, much to the de
triment of their shins, upset a chair, while a shoe
maker, extending both arms as if he drew a long and
refractory thread, pinches himself up to escape the all
but touching hand of the BUndman, heedless that he
is squeezing a boy behind, who with rueful looks en
dures, not without tears, the unexpected crush. Even

382 THE LDJE OF 1813*
the old man who swept the pubhc crossing, moved by
the merriment, looks in at the door, and seems dis
posed to quit his broom and join in the fun. Such
is the glee and whirl of the whole, that none of the
actors perceive these episodical incidents — all eyes are
blind to aught save the business of the scene. The
colouring is very vivid.
His Portrait from recollection of a Young Lady
deceased, though not overlooked in the admiration of
Blindman's Buff, obtained but faint praise, though it
had the merit of simplicity and truth.
In August, the painter had the pleasure of receiv
ing his mother and sister in London, and of seating
them at his OAvn fireside, in Philhmore Place. I have
heard the former describe the pangs which she en
dured at heart when she parted with the Manse of
Cults, and bade fareweU to Stratheden and the Uttle
viUage of Pitlessie. She was not insensible to the
charms of London and the elegance of its society ;
but she long sighed for the hills of Fife, with the
sight, and as she said, the sound of its Uving waters.
As for the artist himself, with his mother, and sister,
and brother, at his side, and much of the furniture
from the Manse around him, he could imagme himself,
as he said, in Stratheden again, tiU he looked out at
the window and missed the blue Lomonds. He added,
that if he were desired to name the happiest hour of
his hfe, it was when he first saw his honoured mother
and much -loved sister sitting beside him while he was
painting: the subject, too, — The Bagpiper — was one
which had been present to his mind from boyhood,
and he now proceeded to embody it in his best colours..

JEt.28. SIR DAVID WELKIE. 383
The Bagpiper was painted for Sir Francis Freeling,
a lover of hterature as well as art. Where the feel
ings of the painter Avere when he conceived this pic
ture, may readily be guessed, for a part of the gable
of the old kirk of Cults appears over the right shoulder
of the musician, who " scivavs the pipes and gaurs
them skirl," AAith a quiet gladness glowing on his
brow, for he is not unconscious (what piper is?) that
he is largely gifted with the power to please. The
piper was originaUy, I have heard, in tartan ; but
tartan had not then become, through the genius of
Scott, popular in England, and the painter rubbed
out that symbol of the far north, and put him on a
lowland costume — a change to be lamented; for the
screech of a bagpipe is as natural to the tartan as the
scream of the eagle. He is a hale weather-beaten old
man, more conversant Avith country than Avith town,
and has piped more where " Gorcocks flew," than
where the lute sounded: his hands are large and
powerful, and as fit for wielding the claymore as for
touching •' the ebon pipe with ivory virles bound ;"
his cheek and eye are of the north, and wants only
the brUUant tartan to be a Macpherson or a Mac-
Ivor. Hia next work, and, though smaU, one of his hap
piest, was painted for Samuel Dobree, Esq., a London
merchant, and one who united a love of art Avith the
rarer desire to encourage it. This picture is The
Letter of Introduction, Avhich originated in the re
ception which the artist himself experienced, it is
said, from one of the smaU Avits about toAvn, Caleb
Whiteford by name, discoverer of "the cross read-

384 THE LIFE OF 1814.
ings" in newspapers, and who set up for a judge in
art as well as Uterature. Some one desirous to do a
good turn to David, when he came first to toAvn,
gave him a note to Caleb, who, struck with his very
youthful look, inquired how old he was, " ReaUy
now," said the artist, with the hesitation he bestowed
on most questions. "Ha!" exclaimed Caleb; "in
troduce a man to me who knows not how old he is ! "
and regarded him with that dubious look which is the
chief charm of the picture. This was in his mind
when he formed the resolution to paint the subject ;
and Caleb and his well-arranged bookcase, httle folding
desk, bundles of papers regularly labeUed, sword sus
pended from a naU in the waU to mark his gentle
descent, for he was a Whiteford of that ilk ; and a
china jar to mark the man of vertu on the floor, sat,
as I may say, for his portrait. We have only to add
a lad with a country air, who has presented the letter,
and the old man to whom it is addressed turning half
round in his chair while breaking the seal, and eyeing
the other with a look of doubt and suspicion, in which
a dog is seen to join with ad the intelUgence of its
master. When The Letter of Introduction was finished,
the artist bethought him of a wish which Mr. Dobree
had expressed to possess one of his pictures, and wrote
accordingly. TO SAMUEL DOBREE, ESQ.
Dear Sir 24- Lower Phillimore Place, 17th March, 1814.
In consequence of your having done me the
favour to Avrite to me about two years ago, mention-

Mt.29. SIR DAVTD AVDLKIE. 385
ing that you were stdl desirous of possessing one of
my pictures, agreeable to the original commission you
gave me, I take the Uberty of stating to you that I am
now finishing tAvo pictures, both of moderate size, and
if either of them, upon inspection, shoidd be found in
other respects to meet your vieAvs, it shall be most
readily at your service.
As I intend them both for the Royal Academy Ex
hibition this year, and must send them in by the 3d of
Aprd, it avUI be desirable that you should see them
early. The distance of Kensington makes me regret
asking you to come so far to see them ; but if you can
do me that honour, and wiU be kind enough to men
tion the time, I shad have much pleasure in being in
the way to receive you. I am, dear Sir, &c. D.W.
Mr. Dobree at once caUed upon Wilkie, and bought
The Letter of Introduction at the price of 250 gui
neas. For the events of this part of his life I have before
me a httle book, entitled,
" A Journal of Occurrences from the time of taking
possession ofthe House, No. 24. Lower PhiUimore
Place, Kensington;"
from which I have made the few extracts that fol
low: —
1813. Aug. 30. Moved part of the furniture from
No. 29. and took possession of the house No. 24. in
the evenmg with my mother and sister.
vol. I. c c

386 THE LIFE OF 1813.
Sept. 15. Sent my sketch of Bourn Kitchen to Dr.
Thomson's, to be shown to Lord Delawarr.
16. Haydon came out in the morning, and idled the
whole day Avith us tdl 11 o'clock at night.
Oct. 21. Completed almost entirely this day my
picture of The Letter of Introduction.
26. Mr. Raimbach sent me an advanced proof of
The VUlage PoUticians. It appears to me particu
larly fine : the heads are done vdth great truth and
spirit, and the hands as weU felt as any thing I ever
saw in engraving. It is, upon the whole, the most
correct copy of a picture that can be imagined. It
only wants a Uttle more of the white paper to be seen
on the high Ughts.
Nov. 5. CaUed on Mr. Cadcott, and saw him en
gaged on a picture which he was going through with on
a new, and, I think, a very improved principle ; he was
paintmg it thin and completing the objects at once.
8. Began a sketch of a new subject of a love-making,
from the Duncan Gray of Burns.
11. Began my picture from Duncan Gray; the
same size as The Letter of Introduction.
20. Began a copy of the smaU portraits of my fa
ther and mother.
26. Completed the copy. Done for my brother
John in India.
Dec. 16. Saw at the Royal Academy the prints from
the Campo Santo of Pisa, which struck me A^ery much,
as they show how graduaUy the art must haA'e been re
vived in Italy, and how httle the invention of its princi
ples can be attributed even to the great minds of Raphael
or M. Angelo, or to any other single individual.

Mr.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 387
28. Rubbed out a petticoat in my picture Avhich
had taken me three days in painting. Began it an cav,
and tried to paint it much thinner in the half tints,
and only thick in the high lights, and to keep a little
more of the orange in its colour.
Sent off some pictures to my brother in India ; viz. a
copy ofthe portraits of my father and mother ; a small
sketch or copy of part of my picture of Blind Man's
Buff ; a smaU sketch of a Bagpiper ; a study of an Old
Woman, made in Leicestershire ; and three portraits of
Thomas, Helen, and myself. The pictures were aU
painted very thin, and with nearly one coat of co
lour. The vehicles used were gumtion, but the three
last Avith drying od and mastic varnish.
1814. Jan. 17. Painted the left hand of the old
man in the picture of Duncan Gray.
30. Mulready came to sit for the head of Duncan
Gray, which I painted in entirely.
Feb. 1. Painted the left hand of Duncan Gray.
13. Wrote a letter to Mr. Raeburn, urging him to
put forward aU his strength at the next Exhibition.
18. I proposed at the Academy that associate en
gravers should in future be required to deposit a
specimen of their abiUties in the Academy, before re
ceiving their diplomas ; agreed to by the Councd.
23. Painted the blue goAvn of the old woman this
and the preceding day ; painted also the needle-book,
and part of the table.
April 3. Dr. BaiUie caUed by appointment to see
my picture of The Refusal [Duncan Gray], which he
hked very much, and bought of me for 330 guineas. *
* Dr. Baillie afterwards exchanged it with Wilkie for The Pedlar.
c c 2

388 THE LIFE OF 1814.
7. Began my sketch of The Distraining for Rent.
20. Began a portrait of Mrs. Coppard and family.
22. Made a return of my property or income for
this year, which, at an average of the three last years,
I find arises in clear profit to 589/., from which de
ducting two thirds of the rent of my house, makes it
so near the 500/., that I have returned my income at
that sum.
25. This being one of the days for varnishing and
touching the pictures at the Royal Academy, I Avent
to toAvn and touched on my picture of The Refusal ;
glazed over the flesh and whites, and painted the
bodice of the girl blue. Then to see Haydon's picture
at the Spring Gardens Exhibition : it looked exceed
ingly wed, and seemed to make a most decided im
pression. May 8. Went to breakfast with General Gordon,
and agreed to paint for him the subject of a boy in
troduced into the Military Asylum at Chelsea, and an
old soldier making out his claim for admission as a
pensioner in the Hospital.
18. To Lord Stafford's Gadery, where I saw Sir
George Beaumont and Mr. Reynolds, and was intro
duced to Mr. Kean. Mr. Reynolds requested me to
undertake to paint portraits of Mr. Kean in his dif
ferent characters, which I declined.
23. At Sir Simon Clark's, at Oak HUl, where I was
particularly struck with an Ostade.
The Refusal was then engaged by Lord Charles Townshend, but left in
the artist's hands, by which it gained one half of its minute and admirable
finish. It is now in the collection of J. Sheepshanks, Esq.

Mt.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 389

CHAPTER XI.

JOVKNAL OF A TOUK TO PARIS.

Haatxg sent The Letter of Introduction and The
Refusal to the Exhibition at the Royal Academy,
Wilkie now turned his steps towards France, with
whose people and pictures he desired to become ac
quainted. The storm of the ReA'olution had cleared
and purified the air both of court and country.
Napoleon and his Marshals took the places once occu
pied by Madonnas and Saints, and David and his
disciples became the recording angels of the French
Revolution. The French painters had produced, before Wilkie's
visit, works both of dignity and sentiment. His own
opinions, formed on the spot, and noted at the time,
aaHI be found in the foUoAving Journal, and also in
the letters to his brother and sister. He Avas accom
panied by Haydon. May 25th, 1814.
HaAing obtained passports, Mr. B. R. Haydon and
myself set out this morning from London, to make a
tour to Paris, by the way of Dieppe and Rouen.
On arriving at Brighton, in the evening, we met
Mr. SeweU, who told us that a packet was to sail im
mediately ; in which he was to go himself. We got
cc 3

390 THE LIFE OF 1814,
our trunks passed at the Custom House, and before
9 o'clock were under weigh in the cutter; which
landed us at Dieppe next day at 3 o'clock.
27th.
We were very much struck Avith the appearance of
Dieppe and the people there, particularly the women.
Their dresses exceeded any thing that we could have
conceived: their mushn caps were large beyond de
scription, and the other parts of their dress rather
formal than graceful, with a great deal of printed and
embroidered ornament. The disproportion of the men
to the women in point of numbers appeared in this
place very great indeed. The women seem very in
dustrious ; and odd as their dresses are, they were very
clean. The apartments and shops are aU very large,
and in every shop-door and in every Avindow we could
see all the family, male and female, at work, princi
pally in making the articles they seU. The dresses
of the women have the greatest variety of colours, and
are in this respect very picturesque. The apartments
within, and the spaciousness of the houses Avithout,
present at every view complete compositions for
pictures. 28th.
Left Dieppe at 6 o'clock in a cabriolet, and arrived
at Rouen about half-past 2. Observed the whole
of the country cultivated, though the state of agri
culture does not seem to be so far advanced as to
require the fields to be enclosed. Some part of the
country, however, through which we passed appeared

JEt.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 391
the richest that I eA'er saAv; and on the whole of the
road we found fruit trees growing at each side in
such quantities, that the greatest depredations by
the passenger woidd neA'er be observed. We passed
several manufactories of cotton in the rich valleys
before coming to Rouen, and Avere very much struck
AAith the splendour of the buildings where they were
carried on. The Bouhrvards, through Avhich avc
passed as we entered Rouen, were the most beau
tiful rows of trees I eA'er saw. The toAvn itself looked
beautiful till Ave entered it ; but here, although the
houses were lofty and richly ornamented, the streets
were so narrow and so dirty, that the effect of them
was entirely lost.
Went to the theatre in the evening ; saw a play,
and an after-piece, the latter being the same as Col-
man's "Love laughs at Locksmiths;" we could un
derstand tolerably weU. We had, since arriving in
France, observed but few weU-dressed people in the
streets, but at the theatre were surprised to find many
very handsomely dressed. The acting, considered as
a representation of the French character, Ave could
not but consider as extremely natural, and much less
extravagant than that generally seen on the English
stage. 29th.
Observed the cUmate considerably milder than in
London, the air and the water very soft, and although
the doors and AvindoAvs are frequently open, and
never shut close, there are none of those disagreeable
drafts which annoy us so much in England.
c c 4

392 THE LDJE OF 1814.
Went to the Cathedral at Rouen, where we heard
grand mass. We were particularly struck with the
richness and grandeur of the edifice, and above ad by
the people assembled. The immense budding was
almost entirely fided Avith people earnestly engaged
Avith their devotions. Their dresses, in shape and
colour, were varied beyond description, and, to our
eyes, were so far removed from commonness and vul
garity, as to show a kind of dehghtful accordance
with the budding and the rehgion in which they
were engaged. This was altogether to us a scene
that I shall never forget, and which I think no person
could see without being inspired with veneration for
the Roman CathoUc religion.
After coming out of the Cathedral, we went to see
a Museum of Pictures which belonged to the place :
the number of pictures was considerable, and of aU
sizes, but the greater part copies, and these but indif
ferent ones. We saw numbers of the inhabitants of
the place looking at them ; but from what we could
observe from them, and from the people who con
ducted us, there is not much taste for fine pictures in
this town. The best pictures were generaUy placed
in very bad situations, and the indifferent ones seem
ed the most admired, and were placed in the best.
What we admired the most was a copy from Raphael,
of The Virgin and Christ, of Avhich the head of the
Virgin Avas beautiful. A picture by Giorgione struck
us for its colour, but it was so high in the room that
we could not examine it ; the only other pictures that
pleased us particularly were some early pictures like
Albert Durer, but they were aU in bad lights.

^T.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 393
We amused ourselves in sauntering about the toAvn,
and in our Avalk entered a A'ery beautiful church,
lately budt, near an hospital. We found a number
of women and boys assembled near the confessional
chairs, and where we discovered they were confessing
to the priests one after the other. We stopped in
the church a considerable time, as we were greatly
impressed with the solemnity of the scene that was
passing before us. The awe that this produced upon
us was, however, considerably remo\red by seeing a
number of young men playing at some game, hke
cricket, immediately before the church. Towards
dusk we found the streets crowded Avith people very
gaUy dressed, the shops all open, and numbers of
raree-shows, as jugglers, in the streets to attract
attention, which, although Sunday evening, they
seemed very successful in exciting among the people.
30th.
Left Rouen at 7 o'clock, had a very fine view from
the hdl of St. Catherine of the toAvn and neighbour
hood. Dined at a smaU AdUage, named Aqui, where
we saw a very fine country church. We traveUed on
in our voiture as far as Magny, a pretty little toAvn,
where we stopt for the night. The country we passed
through to-day was not so full of population as some
other districts we had seen, but seemed to be a very
rich corn country : the grains we observed were prin
cipaUy rye and wheat. We overtook some French
saUors, who were returning to their homes from
Portsmouth, where they had been confined since the
battle of Trafalgar (nine years).

394 THE LLFE OF 1814.
31st.
Left Magny at 5 o'clock, and soon entered a vine
country. Breakfasted at Pontoise — passed through
St. Denis ; passed over the field of battle between that
and Mont Martre, where we saw the Russian lines,
and arrived at Paris at half-past 2 o'clock. Our
postilion drove us to the H6tel VUledot, where we
hired beds for the night, and after dining at a trai-
teur, we saUied forth to see the toAvn. We went to
the Thudleries, were greatly delighted with the
gardens, saw the Place Vend6me, went over the
river, and walked about through a great number of
streets, after which we went into the Palais Royal,
which in gaiety and magnificence exceeded all that I
had ever seen before. Heard this evening that the
peace had been signed between the AUies and France.
Observed that the streets were much more crowded
in the evenings than they would have been in London,
and that the spectacles to attract attention were very
numerous. As we found our hotel a very expensive
place to live at, we resolved not to stop longer than
one night. We had, however, incautiously given our
passports to the people of the house, who, in order to
draw us in for another night, neglected to take them
to the officer of police tUl the time we had bargained
for was expired ; being very much dissatisfied Avith
this kind of trick, but obliged to submit to the
imposition, we left the house immediately, and took a
lodging in the Rue St. Benoit, Avhich, though smaU,
was the most comfortable place we had seen.

Mt.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE.

TO MISS WILKIE.
My dear Sister, Paris, 3i»t May, isn.
The date of this letter avUI shoAV you that Ave
have succeeded in accomphshing our journey to the
capital of France. At Brighton we embarked on
board the packet, and although I experienced a good
deal of uneasiness from sea-sickness, by the time we
landed at Dieppe I was completely recovered. This
being our first entrance into a foreign country, we
were greatly struck Avith every thing we saw. You can
not imagine the amazing difference between the man
ners, dresses, and the habitations of the people here,
and those we had so lately quitted in England. It is
needless for me to attempt a description of them, but
I can assure you, that the novelty of the whole has
deUghted me beyond any thing I have before seen.
We met a young gentleman at Brighton Avith whom
we had some acquaintance ; and as he seemed to be
travelling with the same views, we have made him
one of our party. At Dieppe we hired a cabriolet, as
we were in no hurry to get to Paris, and have there
fore taken sufficient time to see every thing that is
worth seeing on the road. I do not know that I ever
made a journey that has given me more satisfaction,
or from which I have derived more new ideas.
The inns are the most curious places we have ever
seen; and as we take every opportunity we can of
speaking to innkeepers and their servants, our attempts
at French have amused ourselves and them so much,
that our journey has been a perpetual roar of laugh-

396 THE LIFE OF 1814.
ter. In short, we have appeared to be three such
merry fellows, even to them, that they have told us
they vdll never forget us. The chmate of this coun
try is so dedghtful that it is impossible not to feel in
good spirits ; and in addition to this, the vdnes are so
hght and exhdarating, that it seems to make it quite
a paradise. We are knoAvn by the very look to be
Englishmen by every body; but we find the 'charac
ter of Mi lord Anglais not very easdy supported ; and
although we have lived at a much cheaper rate than
we could have done in England, we reaUy beUeve that
some advantages have been taken of our desire to do
credit to old England. The dresses of the French
ladies are very beautiful, and very unlike the EngUsh.
Their head-dresses are rich and tasty beyond any thing
I have seen. You can have no notion of the beauty
of the lace they wear. Both Haydon and I wish that
we could bring over some specimen of their caps and
tippets to show you aU how they are decorated.
We attended high mass in the Cathedral at Rouen,
where we saw such a display of elegance as quite
astonished us.
We arrived at Paris at three o'clock to-day, and
have seen numbers of Russians, Austrian and other
foreign troops here ; but every thing seems so quiet,
that no one Avould suppose any thing extraordinary
had happened.
The expense of living and traveUing is not so great
as has been represented in London, and though we
have not taken the cheapest modes of either, our
journey has not cost us much. We preferred travel
ling in the cabriolet to the diligence, in order that we

Mt.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 397
might see the country, and our expenses have been
considerably increased on that account. My passage
across to Dieppe was a guinea and a half, and my
hving there, Avhich has been less thim at any other
place, cost me for dinner, tea, bed, and breakfast,
9*. Qd. We haAe been walking through the principal
streets, and haA'e seen a number of the great buddings,
which are ver)' fine. We are now at the H6tel ViUe-
dot, near the Palais Royal, but as we are to get into
some lodging immediately, you need not direct here.
Mr. Haydon avUI Avrite to his sister to-morrow, and
avUI mention where our lodging is. D.W.
Since Avriting the above, which my ignorance of the
custom prevented me sending off to-day, we have
taken a very comfortable lodging, and have moved
from our hotel. I therefore beg you avUI Avrite to me
immediately and let me know what you have been
doing, and how you aU get on at Kensington.
D. Wilkie,
M Lenoble, Rue St. Benoit, No. 6.
Fauxbourg St. Germain, a Paris.
June 1st.
Went with Haydon and Mr. Sewell to see the
Louvre; entered first the lower gaUery, where the
antique statues are placed, with which, and with the
manner in which they were arranged, I was very
much struck. The most striking of aU was the
Apollo, which, in addition to its exceUence, had a fine

398 THE LIFE OF 1814.
situation and a very perfect state of preservation to
recommend it. The Venus de Medicis, the Laocoon,
and the Torso also looked very weU, and there
was a great number of others of the first rank in
sculpture. After examining the whole shghtly, I
went up stairs to the long gadery; the first picture
that struck me was the large picture of Paul Vero
nese, of the Marriage of Cana, which, in those excel
lencies which address themselves to the eye, exceeded
all that I saw. On entering the long gaUery, the first
school that presented itself was the French, but this
did not come up to what I expected in such a place,
as it did not even equal those of this school we have
in our OAvn country. There were not above six
Claudes, and these, except one, of an inferior quahty.
The Nicholas and Gaspar Poussins were also inferior
to those I had seen in London, and there is scarcely
any other master who is able to support the credit of
the school. The German school seems very rich in
those of Rubens and Vandyke. Rembrandt did not
look so favourably ; and even in that in which he
excels, colouring, and hght, and shadow, his pictures
did not appear to such advantage as I expected. Of
Ostade there were some very fine specimens, but per
haps not so fine as some of Lord Stafford's. The pic
tures of Teniers looked altogether better than the
Ostades, but this was more from the style in which
they were painted, than from their being better pic
tures. Those of Metzu looked very fine both in the
execution and effect.

Mt.29. SIR DAVTD WDLKIE. 399
2d.
Went with Haydon to caU on Mr. Colnaghi, jun.,
whom we found, and had an account from him of
the state of Paris during the entrance of the Rus-
sians. CaUed at the house of Messrs. Perigeaux ; saw
Mons. Claremont, to whom I presented my letter
of credit. Went to the Loiwre, where Ave remained
till 3 o'clock ; and after dining, went as far as the
Luxembourg Palace. We were greatly pleased with
the gardens of the Luxembourg, which are much
finer than those of VauxhaU. Saw close by the gar
dens a sort of spectacle, at the door of which a crowd
was assembled, and apparently much entertained with
a dialogue between two people, a man and a woman,
elevated upon a booth. I did not understand the
points that occasioned the merriment ; but from the
gravity Avith which the whole was dehvered, I was
led to suppose that it was either pointed wit, or a dry
sort of humour. 3d.
Found myself so much fatigued with the walk
ing I had had for the last three days, that I was
unable to go out, except to the restaurateur's. Met
there an Englishman, who seemed much out of
sorts from his not knowing any thing of French.
I employed myself the greater part of the day in
attempting to speak French to the mistress of
the house. Finding that I had not yet recovered
from my fatigue, I sent for un medicin, who pre
scribed for me a bottle of lemonade, mixed Avith some

400 THE LIFE OF 1814.
drug of course, which, whether effective or not, had
at least the advantage of being very weU tasted.
4th.
Remained at home the whole of the day, though I
found myself considerably better.
6th.
Went to the Palais de Luxembourg to see the gal
lery of Rubens ; on entering, I was not at first struck
with the look of the pictures, but after comparing
them with what 1 had seen before, they greAV upon me
amazingly, and before I left the room, I could not
help being conAinced that, Avith aU his faults, Rubens
is one of the greatest painters that ever existed.
Some of the pictures appeared a little rubbed in parts,
but most of them are in an exceUent state of preserv
ation. The Embarkation of Mary de Medicis is ex
ceUent, and the portraits of herself and the ladies
accompanying her, as fine as could be conceived. The
sea-nymphs at the bottom of the picture, with the
water dashing upon them, is painted in Rubens' finest
manner. The picture representing the birth of Louis
XIII. is exceUent. That of Henry IV. taking his
leave is also very good, and particularly the Uttle
Dauphin, who is beautifuUy painted. But one of the
finest is that of the Coronation of Mary de Medicis ;
this, compared with some others, is a cold picture, but
painted with such a rehsh for harmony as never was
surpassed. This is one of the finest pictures I ever
saw by Rubens. The Exchange of the Two Princesses
of France and Spain, was one of the richest in point of

Mt.29. SIR DAATD AVILKIE. 401
colour, and in the most perfect state of preservation.
The Interview of Mary de Medicis and her Son is
painted in a A'ery grand tone of colour ; the monster
at the bottom of the picture excellent. The con
cluding picture of Time disco\'ering Truth, is also in
a very fine style of painting. 7th.
Went to the convent of Les Petits Augustins, to see
the ancient monuments of France : found here speci
mens ofthe French sculpture from the 13th century
doAvn to the present time. This sight was particu
larly interesting, inasmuch as it presented a greater
number of the monuments of great men than can be
seen at any other place; but it had the look of a
museum, although some of the tombs reaUy contained
the ashes of the people they were intended to comme
morate ; it certainly had not the look of a burial
place. This, however, is a very fine way of preserving
them, and they deriA'e ver}- great effect from the order
in which they are arranged, and from the decorations
with which they are accompanied of old stained glass
Avindows, &c. Perhaps the most interesting of all the
monuments is that of Abelard and Eloise, and this, in
point of picturesque effect, is very beautifuUy placed
in a garden, surrounded Avith trees, so disposed as to
form a very pleasing back-ground. The monument of
Henry IV. represents him extended on a bed, as was
usual in those times. The sculpture is formal, but,
as an imitation of nature, in very just taste. There
are some other pieces of sculpture, that show a very
true feeling for the representation of nature, which,
VOL. I. D D

402 THE LIFE OF 1814.
had it been improved upon by later artists, might
have risen to something very fine.
TO THOMAS WTLKTE, ESQ.
My dear Brother Eue St- Benoit, Paris, 7th June, 1814.
The day after I sent you a short letter from
Brighton I reached the French coast, and such a
transition I never before experienced. The difference
between every thing I saw here, compared Avith what
I had left on the other side, seemed as great as if one
had been dropt in the moon. The quays were filled
with crowds of women, and, although we have not
observed in other parts of the country such want of
men, compared with the women, as has been reported,
I must acknowledge that here the superabundance of
the fair sex was immense. The dresses of the women
at Dieppe, though picturesque beyond every thing,
gave me, from their absurd appearance, a very strange
idea of the French people. I found, however, that
they were in this, as in their buildings and every
thing else, much more antiquated than the people of
Paris, and, compared with the people of England,
nearly two centuries behind. Their houses, in
point of size, are magnificent, but seem as if they
had not undergone any repair for a hundred years.
The hotel we lodged in was like a house for a
nobleman, the apartments were very large, and the
walls were covered with tapestry. The furniture
had an old-fashioned costliness about it, but was
so intermixed Avith the effects of tear and wear that
every idea of comfort was removed. I Avas greatly

Mt.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIU. 403
interested in Avalking through the toAvn by the look
of the shops. It appeared as if every shopkeeper
sold only the articles that he manufactured himself,
and he and aU his family Avere generaUy found in the
exercise of their trade, either within the shop or
seated at the door. They seemed to know nothing of
the division of labour hi then' manufactures, and in
their agriculture they are so far behind that they have
not a single field enclosed. However, by their in
dustry in one, and by the help of a fine cUmate in the
other, they enjoy a greater nmnber of the good things
of this Ufe than the people of the same rank in our
OAvn country.
Rouen is a noble city, and has stiU some very
fine monuments of its former greatness. The bou-
leA'ards at its entrance are magnificent, and the
churches, some of which were bidlt by the Enghsh,
are as fine as any thing ofthe kind I have seen. As
we stopt aU the Sunday at Rouen, we went to see the
service of High Mass. I was particularly struck at
seeing, for the first time, a Roman CathoUc cathedral
apphed to the purposes for which it was budt. The
cathedral, which is nearly as large as St. Paul's, was
not only fiUed from one end to the other, but every
aisle had numbers of people in it, and every shrine
had its votaries. We found, on coming out of the
cathedral, several decent-looking people very ready to
accompany us to show us the wonders of the place.
They took us to see a gaUery of pictures belonging to
the town, and also to see the courts of justice and the
prisons. The place where Joan of Arc was burnt we
had pointed out to us by these people ; but there were
dd 2

404 THE LIFE OF 1814.
some other objects of curiosity to us, which they
would not have shovm us as wonders, if they had
shown them at aU. One of this description we found
for ourselves. When we were walking out we went
accidentally into a very beautiful church, and were
surprised to find numbers of young people codected
about the confessional chairs, and going, one by one,
to the lattice at the side to . confess to the priest. I
stopt a . considerable time in the church to see this
going on, and was struck Avith it as one of the most
. strange things I had seen since my arrival in France.
From Rouen to Paris we traveUed through one
of the richest corn countries I ever saw ; but the
viUages we passed through, immediately before we
entered Paris, were by no means equal to those
around London. We saw none of those httle cot
tages and country-houses that ornament the ap
proaches to London ; and, although the land is fertde
to a very great degree, the corn-fields he entirely
open, and not an enclosure is to be seen. After
passing through the town of St. Denis, the nearest
town to Paris, we came at once upon the field of
battle between St. Denis and Montmartre. The first
object that presented itself here was the Russian lines ;
and, as we passed over the plain, our postilion pointed
out to us numbers of trees that had been cut through
by the cannon-shot, and some large mounds of earth
which he said had been made for the burial of the
dead. On the heights of Montmartre we could make
out the lines where the French cannon had been
placed, and this was all we could observe of the re
mains of the battle. There Avas, I should add, a de-

.St. 29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 105
serted look about the Avhole place, but this was, per
haps, more from association than any thing else, for
the whole Avas already covered Avith corn.
It was not till we had got into the heart of Paris
that we began to discoA'er its splendour. We lodged
for the first night at an hotel near the Palais Royal,
where we found the reports of the expense of living
at Palis in a great measure realized. Since that, how
ever, we have got a very comfortable lodging in the
fauxbourg St. Germain, and haA'e been very constantly
employed in going about to see the wonders of the
place, most of which are very far superior to any
thing of the same sort we have got to show in London.
D. W.
8th.
On going to the Louvre, I began making a study of
the Virgin's head, in the small picture by Raphael of
the Virgin and ChUd. I soon found that the number
of people passing behind me, and looking over my
shoulder, became an interruption, and I accordingly
gave over before I had completed the study. Went
to dine with SayweU at a restaurateur's, and from
thence to a coffee-house in the Palais-Royal, where we
found an English neAvspaper, Avhich gave an account
of the preparations for receiving the foreign sovereigns,
and also stated that some Cossacks had arrived in
London. 9th.
Went to-day to take a view of the city of Paris
from the heights of Montmartre ; ascended first to a

406 THE LIFE OF 1814.
windmill, from whence we saw both the toAvn and the
field of battle. I made a shght sketch of both. We
dined in a httle public-house in the tovm on the top
ofthe hdl. We went into the church of Montmartre,
which was shown to us by an old woman, who pointed
out to us also numbers of relics in glass cases by the
side of the altar. On the top of the spire of the
church is a telegraph. Went up to it, and the soldier
who had the charge of it was very civil in pointing
every thing out to us, in the field of battle, which he
saw himself from this spot when the action was going
on. Went in the evening to the Theatre Francais,
where we saw a new piece, seemingly got up for the
time, " Les Etats de Blois." It was very weU acted,
so far as we could understand. The afterpiece we
Uked much better; it was a comic piece, and much
more mteUigible than the others to our ears.
10th.
Went to the Louvre, and began to draw a kneeling
Venus in the sculpture gaUery, but found considerable
difficulty in proceeding without a seat. Went and
took a walk afterwards through the Palais Royal, and
from thence to Messrs. Peregeaux, where I drew 20/.
more of my letter of credit. In the evening to the
Op&ra, Francais; was much disappointed Avith the
opera, but pleased with the baUet (Antoine et Cleo-
patre), which was pretty well managed.
11th.
Found that Mons. Theodore Brunet had called
Avhen I was out, and left his card. I went to find

Mt.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 407
him as soon as I could, and on entering the house
was introduced to his mother, Madame Brunet, Avho
sent for her son. I was a good deal pleased with the
manner of Mons. Theodore, and Avith the reception I
met from him. He accompanied me to the Louvre,
and went over aU the GaUery Avith me. I met to-day
Mr. Swinburne. While I Avas looking over the an
tique statues with M. Brunet, we were accosted by a
young French artist, who, after inquiring a good deal
about art in England, proposed showing me the Life
Academy in Paris. He mentioned the time when I
should meet him in the evening. I accordingly went,
accompanied by Haydon, between the hours of 5 and
7, to the Palais des Beaux Arts, and with some diffi
culty found out the Academie Yivante. This was in a
small, disagreeable looking apartment, to which we
entered through a stUl more disagreeable looking haU
or ante-chamber, where an old woman was stationed
to take charge of hats, great coats, portfohos, &c.
The Academy -room, which was not very large, was
fiUed with students of aU ages, and seemingly in aU
conditions of Ufe. The figure they were studying
from was an old man, and of a much worse character
in point of form than any I ever saw in our Academy
in London. They never have any females in their
Life Academy ; and if they had, the Academy Avould
require to be conducted in a very different way, for it
would seem to be open to every body. It Avas Mons.
Gerard's month to act as visiter ; but he was not
there, nor could I see any one in his place, either to
preserve order or instruct the student.
d d 4

408 THE LIFE OF 1814.
12th.
Found great preparations making for the cele
bration of the F6te de Dieu, which takes place this
day. The people had carpets, tapestries, and linens,
hanging on the walls of their houses, and in many
places there were altars erected in the streets, which
were ornamented in various ways Avith carpets, silks,
and large green shrubs groAving in boxes. Louis
XVIII. had ordered that the Sundays and fete days
should be kept in the same way as before the Revo
lution, by keeping ad the shops shut ; and the ob
servance of this order was to begin to-day. It occurred
to me, as I found it did to many other people, that
such an alteration was very impohtic in the king,
and that it would not be attended to ; but the event
has shoAvn that his majesty has acted Avisely. It
seemed to be acquiesced in by every body Avith plea
sure, and very different from the preceding Sunday.
Almost every shop was shut, and the solemnity of
the day has been observed almost as much as in Lon
don. I went Avith Haydon to the TuiUeries, and
obtained admittance to the SaUe de Marechaux, in
order that we might see the king as he passed through
to the chapel. After waiting a considerable time
amidst the crowd, we at last saw the king, and his
appearance was very prepossessmg ; he looked a simple
good honest man, Avith a good healthy colour in his
face. We saw also the Duke and Duchess D'Angou
leme. From the TuiUeries I Avent to caU on the
Marquis de Crenolle, to leave him my address for his
son the Comte, Avhen he arrives in Paris. My re
ception from the Marquis was, however, not very

2ET.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 409
gratifying : I found hun the least poUte of an)- French
man I have yet met with. After dinner 1 Avent Avith
Haydon to deliver some of Mr. Raimbach's prints to
Mons. Bervie ; did not find him at home, but left the
prints. 13th.
This morning avc went to see the pictures of Mons.
Gerard. We saw the portraits of the Emperor of
Russia, the King of Prussia, Louis XVIII., and a
number of the distinguished characters; amongst
whom was Bonaparte, and the Empress Josephine,
and Maria Louisa. This coUection was particularly
interesting from the characters it contained, and not
a httle so from the specimen it presented of the French
style of portrait painting. There seemed to be great
correctness in the draAving of the heads, but no at
tempt at any thing beyond mere imitation. The
execution was in general very tame, and the colouring
bad both in point of quahty and arrangement. Mons.
Gerard has a very fine show-room; and while we
were there numbers of weU-dressed people came in to
see the pictures. Madame Gerard was in the room
the greater part of the time, and was very obhging
in explaining to us what we wanted to know of the
pictures. From Mons. Gerard's we went to see the
pictures of M. David. After some difficulty we found
his painting room in the Sorbonne, which was neither
more nor less than an old church. We saw the pic
ture of Bonaparte declared Emperor, and of the
coronation of Josephine ; both of which were painted
on a very large scale, and fud of portraits. Of the

410 THE LDJE OF 1814.
two, the Coronation was the best ; but even this was
nothing more than an imitation of Rubens' Coro
nation of Mary de Medicis. There was another pic
ture of M. David's that I was inclined to examine,
from what I had heard of it before, and this was the
Sabine Women separating the Combatants before the
WaUs of Rome. Some parts of this picture, particu
larly the hands, and some parts of the figures and the
horses, were wed drawn; but the composition seemed
confused, and AAithout an object to arrest the attention,
whde the story, whether weU adapted for a picture
or not, lost its interest entirely from its not being
weU told. There was only one figure I thought weU
conceived, and that was a female elevating herself
Avith her chdd upon a fragment of architecture to
arrest the attention of the warriors. The whole of
David's pictures, however, seemed badly coloured;
and, indeed, Avhatever their merit may consist in, I
have not been able to discover in any of the French
artists the shghtest relish for this fascinating quahty.
In the absence of this, too, I do not see that they
have many of those requisites that have been found
necessary to the reputation of other great artists.
Their compositions are without taste, their expres
sions often without dignity, and theatrical; and if
any one were to except their power of draAving the
figures, I do not know Avhat would be left to recom
mend them. This last accomplishment, however, it
must be confessed, they possess in a very considerable
degree ; and though their figures are stiff, and AAith
out motion, they are frequently true to nature, and
ahvays distinct and weU understood.

.2Et.29. Sffi DAVTD WILKIE. 411

TO MISS WILKIE.
_r , „. Paris, Rue St. Benoit, No. 6.
My dear Sister, 13th June, 1814.
My time, since I haA'e been in this place, has
been occupied solely ni going about to see the sIioavs,
the spectacles, and the pictures, so that I have not
been able, as you avUI readdy imagine, to do much in
the way of study. A principal difiiculty with me when
I first landed in France, was the want of knoAving
sufficiently the language to be able to converse Avith
the people; when I got to Paris, however, it was
necessary that I should saUy forth by myself in quest
of adventure. I used frequently, at first, to ask the way
to a place that I knew, to see if I understood their
answer. I used, also, to buy some trifle for the sake of
getting into conversation ; but what I have derived
the greatest advantage from is, that of talking to the
people of the house we Uve in. This I found needed
only a beginning, for such is the good temper and
pohteness of the French people, that they are always
willing to Usten to you, and to understand what you
say. Our hostess is particularly obliging in this
respect ; she is at aU times wdling to talk, and so far
willing to be understood, that she avUI repeat what
she says over again, tdl I can fully understand her.
I am often surprised at what I can learn in this way,
as weU as at the quantity of information I can give
her when I begin to talk about my own country, or
about any show I have been to see in Paris.
Since the commencement of the Revolution the
Sunday has never been observed in France; the

412 THE LIFE OF 1814.
shops have always been open, and work carried on
the same as on any other day. The first Sunday
after our arrival in Paris we found this practice still
in force, but the King issued an order last week that
all the shops should be shut on that day, and no
work should be carried on under a very heavy
penalty. The Sunday that foUowed this order was a
grand fete day, but I think I have seldom seen a
Sunday more strictly observed in London than it was
here, and although I at first thought it an imprudent
order of His Majesty, it seems to have been most
cheerfuUy acquiesced in by the people. A decent
looking person told us, that it was the only Sunday
that had given him any pleasure for these twenty
years. Haydon and I went in the morning to the TuU-
leries to try to see the King. At first the guards
would not admit us, but when we said, Nous sommes
Anglais, they adowed us to go up stairs at once.
We waited a considerable time in a had, and at last
saw the King pass through to the chapel attended by
the Duke and Duchess D'Angouleme. The coun
tenance of the King I thought very prepossessing.
He seemed a joUy good-natured looking man, ydth a
becoming face, and was very well received by the
people. The houses are ad budt Avith common stairs here
as in Edinburgh, and the dress of the ladies is reaUy
very good. They are all covered Avith lace and frdl ;
their wastes are up to their shoulders, and their
dresses not at all adapted to show their shapes, Avhich
are perhaps not so much Avorth shoAving as those of

iET.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 413
the EngUsh ladies. The bonnets and caps they Avear
are the most prodigious things I ever saAV. They
are, indeed, so much beyond Avhat aou see in England,
that any sketch of them wiU look Uke a caricature.
Their hair is tied aU of it upon the croAvn of the head
in the Chinese fashion. Such is the difference in the
dress of the EngUsh and French, that you can dis
tinguish the country at once, when you see them in
the street. . The EngUsh ladies I have seen here look
very simple and interesting, but the French ladies
teU me that, although they are handsome, their dress
is frightful. I was exceedingly mortified on asking
our hostess, when I first came, if ever she had heard
of lEcosse, or of Scotland, to find that she did not
know that there was any such place or people in
existence. D.W.
14th.
Went this morning to see the Jardin des Plantes.
Saw a great number of Uving animals, lions, tigers,
&c. I was particularly struck Avith the lions ; they
were great beyond eA'er}' thing : one of them had got
a dog as a companion, which I suppose he was greatly
attached to. I was taken into a place Avhere there is
a coUection of the skeletons of all sorts of animals,
and various other anatomical preparations, Avith which
I was greatly interested. The codection of objects I
saw in the garden, both animal and vegetable, seemed
very wonderful ; but as I had an appointment, I came
away without seeing the finest part of it, which I
understand is in the Cabinet d'ilistoire Naturelle.

414 THE LIFE OF 1814.
Having an engagement to dine Avith Mons. Brunet,
I came home, where I found a letter from my sister,
which reheved me from considerable uneasiness, and
gave me a good account of what was going on at
home. Went at 5 o'clock to Mons. Brunet's to dinner,
where I met his mother Madame B., and another
gentleman. The dinner was very different from an
Enghsh dinner ; but upon the whole many things
were very good, and particularly the wine. Imme
diately after dinner, the coffee came in, and each
drank a cup very hot with eau-de-vie, instead of
mdk. After this we sat some time in the draAving-
room, and then went out, according to custom, to the
promenade in the gardens of the Thudleries, which
was crowded beyond every thing by people hke our
selves taking their evening walks. After enjoying
this for some time, I took my leave of my party, and
came home. 15th.
Mr. Th(k>d. Brunet caded to-day at 11 o'clock, by
appointment, and was so obhging as to accompany
me to the printseUers, to try to get some one to en
gage as an agent to dispose of my print from The VU
lage PoUticians. We went first to a Mons. Bensi, to
whom Mons. Brunet was recommended. Mons. Bensi
himself was in London, but his wife, and a young
person who was in the shop, seemed very vdUing to
engage as agents, and demanded the terms, which I
told them, for the proofs was sixty francs, and the
prints thirty francs, to the trade; with the view that
they might be sold, the one for eighty, the other for

Mt.29. SIR DAVTD AVILKIE. 415
forty francs, to the public. All this they thought quite
reasonable, and I believe they Avould have been very
AviUing to engage to take a number; but Avhen 1 told
them that I could not take any other payment than
ready money, they told me this Avas, in the present
state of affairs, impossible. They said they were only
pubUshers, and theu* connections lay aU over the
Continent, and that they did not seU many prints in
Paris, and that they could not make any other pay
ment than by bills at nine months' date. As we could
not agree, they were so obhging as to give me the
address of some other printseUers, whose line of busi
ness it was more likely to answer. I accordingly
went to two on the Boulevards, one of whom dechned
taking any as he had just sent to London for the
newest prints, and was not sure but this would be
amongst them; and the other, though fully persuaded
of the merit of the print, and though previously ac
quainted Avith its reputation, declined having any, as
he did not think it historical enough for the Parisian
market. The last we went to was a Mons. Roland, in
the Place des Victoires. He received us very poUtely,
but told us that the times were so bad that he could
not have any thing to do with the print. He had been
printseUer to the Emperor, and was now trying to
get made printseUer to the King, but had not yet
succeeded : he told us that printseUing was at present
at the lowest ebb in Paris, and that, for himself, he
was just about to send a considerable coUection of
pictures to London, to try how they would seU there.
He could not venture upon the purchase of any of the
prints. Finding that I had been so far unsuccessful

416 THE LIFE OF 1814.
vdth the leading printseders, I determined on giving
up the search for customers for the present, and ac
cordingly took leave of M. Theod. Brunet when we
left Mons. Roland's. 16th.
Went at 10 o'clock to the TuiUeries. We were
admitted to the chapel, where the King was expected,
and at 12 o'clock his Majesty entered with the
Duchess D'Angouleme. Had a very good view of
both, and saw a person who was pointed out as Mons.
TaUeyrand. Went to the Barriere du Roule, where
we were shoAvn various models of the principal cities
in Europe. Returned and went by myself to a smaU
theatre, where the figures acted entirely by machinery.
This I found very amusing, and was surprised at the
exactness with which the motions of men and animals
were given. 17th.
This morning we set off from the TuiUeries in a
cabriolet, through a very beautiful country, to Ver
sailles. The road passed by the left of St. Cloud,
which we saw rising very beautifuUy among the high
trees of the palace. We crossed the Seine, passed
through the toAvn of Sevres, a place remarkable for its
manufactory of china, and got to VersaiUes early in
the day. We stopt at an inn where we engaged beds,
and immediately sallied forth to see the gardens and
palaces of this celebrated place. Our conductor took
us first to Grand Trianon, a place that had been fre
quently the residence of Bonaparte. This house has

Mt.29. SIR DAA'ID WILKIE. 417
but one suite of apartments, as they are all on the
ground floor. We found a number of pictures here,
among which there Avas one, a very fine one, by
Nicholas Poussin. On leaving this place we avc re
conducted to another house called Petit Trianon. In
this house we found nothing Aery remarkable, but
were conducted to a Uttle theatre close bAT, which Avas
the most beautiful thing of the kind I ever saAV. This
had been frequently used by Bonaparte and his suite
as a place of amusement, and is at present in the most
perfect order for any dramatic representation. By
this house of Petit Trianon is a garden, which was
fitted up in the English style, by Marie Antoinette,
and has, in consequence, a variety and a beauty that
it is in vain to look for in a French garden. The
trees were aUowed to take their natural shapes,
the pieces of water fodowed the sweeps and turns
of the ground in which they lay, and the Uttle
walks were perpetuaUy discovering to you some new
prospect, or losing themselves behind the rocks or
the trees. In foUowing one of them we were led
to some houses, buUt Uke cottages, by the side of a
httle lake. The exterior of these houses was not
much finer than might be seen in any country vUlage,
but, when we entered them, the splendour of the fur
niture was surprising. We were told that they were
used as lodging-houses by the guests at Petit Trianon.
On our way, returning to the house, we passed a very
beautiful temple of Venus, built and decorated in a
very rich style. These gardens of Petit Trianon
have, in some parts, an artificial look, which, consi
dering that it is entirely a work of art, it was impos-
VOL. I. e E

418 THE LIFE OF 1814.
sible to avoid. The imitation of the Enghsh style of
gardening, however, is very perfect; and, small as
this garden is, it has more variety and more of the
beauties of nature in it than all the gardens of Ver-
sadles put together. The house of Petit Trianon had
been let out to a traiteur during the time of the Re
volution, and had received considerable damage from
the parties that used to frequent the house and gar
dens. But this seemed now to be entirely repaired,
and in such a state as might convert even an admirer
of Versailles to a taste for Enghsh gardening.
In the afternoon we were conducted through the
Chateau at Versaides. Saw the theatre, which was
built to answer the purposes of an Opera House and
Bad Room, and for the richness with which it was
fitted up, in the architectural part, it far exceeded
anything I ever saw before. It is a very large house,
almost the whole of the piUars are gUded, and the
large interstices had been formerly filled with mirrors
of immense value. The next place that attracted our
attention was the Chapel, and this Avas reaUy mag
nificent. The whole inside was buUt with different
kinds of marble, and decorated in the richest way
possible. We were then led through a long suite of
apartments, which had once been fitted up in the
richest style, but which, though stdl magnificent,
Avere now hastening to decay. The ceilings, which
Avere painted by Le Brun, and other celebrated
artists, Avere now so tarnished in many parts, that it
would be very difficult to recover them. The Grand
GaUery, which is supposed to have been the finest
room in Europe, stUl claims that pre-eminence, amidst

.ET. 29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 419
aU the neglect it has experienced. The ceilings are
certainly very respectable in point of art, but I have
great doubts whether the art of painting is not de
graded by being made use of to ornament the com
partments of arcldtecture. HoweA'er Avell the spaces
may be adapted to show off the designs of the artist,
they must stUl appear in the rank of appendages, and
however ornamental to the buUding, yet as a part of
it they cannot but be considered as inferior to the
work ofthe architect.
In the evening we found the doors of the theatre
crowded Avith people anxious to get places to see
the actors of the Theatre Francais, who had come
out from Paris for the night. The play that was
announced was Hamlet, so we joined the crowd, and
Avith difficulty got in. We found this play very
much altered from the original of Shakspeare, but so
adapted as to produce a very striking effect upon a
French audience. Talma played Hamlet, and in a
scene which was nearly the same as the closet-scene,
he acted as if he saw the ghost, but Avithout any
figure to represent that personage. In a scene after
wards, he brings in the ashes of his father in an urn,
which he weeps over very much, and AArhen his mother
comes in, requests her to embrace it also. A very
smgular effect was produced by her going up to touch
it, and shrinking back with horror. The play was
very much altered both in the plot and the characters.
Hamlet was a very different person from what Shak
speare had made him, and so was Ophelia ; but, whe
ther the alteration was an improvement or not, the
E E 2

420 THE LIFE OF 1814.
play seemed to produce a very striking effect upon
the audience. 18th.
This day Haydon set off by himself to RambouUlet
to see the castle at that place. I remained the whole
of the day at VersaUles, and employed myself in
making a drawing of part of the toAvn and castle.
Haydon returned in the afternoon.
19th.
This day the Fete-de-Dieu was celebrated at Ver
saiUes, and we saw the procession from the windows
of our hotel. It was very splendid, and consisted of
the priests, a number of women, children, and soldiers.
At 11 o'clock we set off in a cabriolet to return to
Paris. We went first to the house of Malmaison.
On the way we were informed that the house could
not be seen without tickets, but that there was an
English lady who had the charge of the house, to
whom we might apply. We accord gly did apply,
and were admitted to the GaUery, which had been
the property of the Empress Josephine. There were
several pictures in this gaUery of the very first
quality, particularly a Titian, Avhich in point of
preservation was the most perfect I ever saw of the
master. We crossed the country by a very fine road
to St. Cloud, which we found a very beautiful place,
but we were unfortunately prevented seeing the
gardens by the rain. We also found that the Palace
could not be seen at present, as Monsieur was

Mt.29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 121
residing there, and avc ay ere accordingly obliged to
return to Paris without having our curiosity gra
tified. 20th.
Went this morning to see the catacombs at the
Barriere d'Enfer. We Avaited a considerable time, —
but were at last admitted. We wTere conducted by a
guide, each of us haAing a candle, doAvn a narrow
staircase, and on coming to the bottom we were con
ducted through a number of passages cut out of the
rock, tUl at last we came to the place where the bones
are kept. This was a Aery singular sight. The walls
seemed buUt AAith the bones of human bodies, and at
certain distances there were layers of sculls, which
were placed in rows with a sort of uniformity, and
even neatness, that AAith any other material would
have been pleasing. There are a vast quantity of
bones in this place, but the catacombs had not the
interest that I expected, and that arose principaUy
from not having the means of knoAving to whom the
bones belonged. They appeared only an immense mass
of the materiel of human existence, which had once
formed part of the bodies, but which do not now
characterise any quahty of the minds to which they
belonged. On returning from this we stopped at the
Luxembourg GaUery, and remained there studying
the works of Rubens till 4 o'clock. In the evening
we went to the Opera Comique, where avc were, upon
the Avhole, pretty wed amused.
e e 3

422 THE LIFE OF 1814.
21st.
From the Rue Mont-Blanc I went to the top of
Bonaparte's Column in the Place Vend6me. I met
here some Swedish gentlemen from Pomerania, one
of whom I found very agreeable. I met also an
Englishman, who had travelled over the greater part
of Europe. CaUed on Mons. Brunet.
22d.
Went to the Louvre ; studied particularly the pic
tures of the Flemish school, among which I was es
peciaUy struck with those of Ostade and Terburg,
the latter of whom has risen greatly in my estimation,
from what I have seen here. He possessed a most
perfect style of colouring, and represents his objects
with a manner of handling the most beautiful and
the least artificial of any I ever saw. I observed
to-day that a number of pictures, which did not strike
at first, began to gain upon me exceedingly. The
Ostades and the Rembrandts improve greatly — the
Tenierses, and others in that style, rather lose. The
picture of the Marriage at Cana, which struck me so
much at first, now begins to look common, and does
not bear to be dwelt upon like the other pictures
painted vdth more care and thinking. Dined, and
went to the Palais Royal to see a model in rehef
of Switzerland, Avhich amused me a good deal. Wrote
this evening a letter to my brother Thomas, men
tioning when I thought of being home.
23d.
Went with M. Brunet and Mr. Haydon to caU on

)".

^ET.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 12
M. Bervie. Found him at home in his room, lie
told us that he had been to call upon us, but could
not find out our lodging. He proposed, however, to
caU again. He shoAved us A'arious of his Avorks, which
I think in a very fine style of engraving. I Avas
surprised to find that the print of Louis XVI. was en
graved by M. Bervie. He told us that he had cut the
plate in two at the time of the Revolution, for fear of
its being laid hold of by the people in power as a
pretext for doing him an injury. I went Avith M.
Brunet to the Palais des Beaux Arts, and the School
of Architecture. SaAv their codection of models of
Grecian and Roman buddings, which were very beau
tiful. CaUed on a printseder of the name of Del-
pech, on the Quai Voltaire, whom I requested to call
upon me to-morrow at 10 o'clock to see the print of
The VUlage PoUticians. Went to the Theatre Fran
cais, where we saw Hamlet adapted to the French
taste, as I had seen it before at VersaiUes. There
was nothing in it that struck me as new, except a
passage aUuding to Angleterre, which, from the shouts
and acclamations of the audience, I suppose conveyed
some reflection on our country. At the conclusion
of the play there was a great noise made in approba
tion of Talma's acting of the character of Hamlet. The
curtain again drew up, and Talma came forward to
pay his respects for the applause of the audience.
24th.
Went this morning to the Bibliotheque, where 1 found
the appearance of a very fine Ubrary. I Avas struck
with the number of the books, and with the propriety
e e 4

424 THE LIFE OF 1814.
Avith which the admission of the pubhc seemed to be
conducted. I went into a smaller room, which is
filled with books of prints, but as aU the places at the
table were occupied, I had to wait some time before I
could see any. I had time to look over a collection
of Rembrandt's etchings before the doors were shut,
which was at 2 o'clock. Went to M. Bonnemaison's,
and was admitted to the gaUery of Giustiniani, which
was fiUed entirely with Italian pictures. Saw M.
Bonnemaison, who was very attentive. Went Avith
Haydon after dinner to caU on a M. Wyburn, who
took us to see M. Garion, the painter. We were
struck Avith the largeness of his house. Saw some of
his pictures, which in their way have talent, but it
seems to be exerted in so different a way from what
I have seen in the old school, or in my OAvn country,
that I do not know how to rank it. They seem to
have the appearance of outhnes filled up, and almost
ad the French pictures I have seen appear to want
depth in the light and shadow. 25th.
Went to the Louvre, where I met Haydon, Say-
well, and Richter, Avho accompanied me to M. Bonne
maison's house. We found M. B. at home by appoint
ment, and were taken by him to the hotel of the
Prince de Benevent, Avhere we saw the most beau
tiful collection of Flemish pictures for the size I had
ever beheld. There was a most beautiful Terburg,
an Ostade, a Wouvermans, a Cuyp, a Vandervelde,
and the best Jan Stein I had ever seen; the beau
tiful picture of the Signing of the Treaty of Munster

Mt.29.

SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 425

by Terburg I had formerly seen in London. The
room these pictures Avere placed in is fitted up in
the Enghsh style, and is remarkable for being the
room in which the treaty of peace was signed on
the 31st of May. There Avere also some other pic
tures in the Prince's coUection of a A'ery fine quaUty,
but not so striking to my eye as those already men
tioned. I went to dine with SayAveU, at a restaura
teur's, and afterwards met Avith Mr. Wyburn, who
took us first to Sir Charles Stuart's to ask for our pass
ports, then to the Palais Royal, where we Aisited every
place in the buUding that was worth seeing. What
struck me most were the gaming-tables, which were the
first things of the kind I ever saw. There were various
descriptions of them, and if we had stopt long enough
we might have Avitnessed various turns of fortune. As
it was, we saw a young man win about 150 Louis.
We went to a place that had once been a theatre and
is now a coffee-room. This is very beautiful ; but
what pleased us as much as anything was a very
pretty sort of woman, who keeps a coffee-house fitted
up in a very elegant style, but in which she herself is
the principal ornament and attraction. I returned
home after being very much amused by this evening's
excursion. 26th.
M. Bervie caUed at 12 o'clock, and Mr. Wyburn at
the same time. M. Bervie looked at The VUlage
Pohticians, and seemed pleased with it. When Hay
don came in we went Avith Mr. Wyburn and M. Bervie
to M. Gerard's, where we found a number of people

426 THE LIFE OF 1814.
looking at the pictures. I was introduced to M. Ge
rard, who seemed a very good sort of Uttle man.
From M. Gerard's we went to M. Girodet's. We
were very readily admitted, and found M. G. with
several people of consequence Avith him. We received
particular attention from M. Girodet, who showed us
a number of very fine likenesses of Bonaparte, which
he had made at various opportunities from the Emperor
himself. Among other places, Mr. Wyburn took us
to call on a lady of his acquaintance, whose name I
forget. This lady had been an actress, and had the
qualifications of singing, draAving, and engraydng, be
sides that of acting, in very great perfection. We were
received by her in her bedroom, and sat with her to
look at her etchings for some time. Mr. Wyburn next
took us to a place that had the name of VauxhaU, but
which was very poor, both in the company and the
entertainments, to our VauxhaU in London. The only
thing I was struck Avith was a large rotunda, or gal
lery, which Avas very fine. 27th.
Went this morning to dehver a letter to the post-
office for Mr. Raimbach. Called on Madame Brunet,
and then went to the LouATe for a considerable time.
28th.
Went vdth Say wed to Sir Charles Stuart's, and after
waiting for more than an hour, got our passports to
return to England. Bought a shawl to take to Eng
land. Left Saywell and went to cad on M. Gros,
whose pictures I could not see because he was at work.

Mt. 29.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. 427

CaUed on M. Naigeon, whom I found at home and
very attentive ; he took me through the Caller)- of the
Luxembourg, where there Avere a number of artists
hard at work studying from the pictures of Rubens.
M. Naigeon asked me to come and breakfast Avith him
on Thursday morning at 10 o'clock. I had a letter from
my brother, in Avhich he mentions that the governors
of the British Institution have voted for Haydon's
picture 100 guineas as a mark of approbation. Went
Arith Haydon to see the Theatre des Varietes, which we
were not Aery much entertamed Avith.
29th.
Went Avith M. Brunet to caU on M. Bensi; saw
only Madame Bensi, who, as her husband was in
London, would not in his absence undertake any
thing respecting the agency of the print. Went with
M. Brunet to some other places, and then left him
to return to meet Haydon. Went to cad on M. de
Launey, who received me with great pohteness. I
met here the old Marquis de CrenoUe, whom I found
a much more agreeable man than I had found him
at first. 30th.
Breakfasted this morning with M. Naigeon. Found
him strongly attached to the present system of French
art ; attempted to combat some of his opinions, but
Avith very httle success. M. N. showed me the apart
ments of the Palais de Senat, which I thought exceed
ingly rich. M. Naigeon accompanied me to our
lodgings, where I showed him Mr. Raimbach's print.

428 THE LIFE OF 1814.
He told me of a printseUer, who, he thought, was a very
respectable man, and accompanied me to his house;
but, as I expected, this printseUer would not have any
thing to do with it. He thought it, as did the other
people in the shop, well engraved and weU composed,
but not at aU adapted to the refined taste of the
Parisians. Haydon and I then took a fiacre to the
Gobelins, which we saw after waiting two hours at the
door. I thought the manner of Avorking the tapestry
very curious, and the imitation of the pictures often
very successful, and even in some respects, particu
larly in colour, superior to the pictures they were
copied from. We returned from this to the Palais
Royal, where we met Mr. Wyburn, and then went Avith
a party to Tivoli. Was exceedingly amused with this
place, which, although inferior to our Vauxhall in
style and magnificence, was superior to it in the va
riety of the amusements. Here we saw grimacing,
rope-dancing, and fire-works in the greatest perfec
tion. The party we accompanied Avas also particu
larly agreeable. One of the ladies, with whom I had
a good deal of conversation, was the most artless and
at the same time the most entertaining girl I ever
met with. I this evening met Mr. Roberton, whom
I had formerly known in London.
July 1st.
Called on Saywell, whom I found so iU that he
could not go with me to London. Went Avith Haydon,
and left my passport with a fee of ten francs. Came
home. Met Mr. Wyburn, Avho Avent Avith us, first to
see the great corn-market, and then to take a place in

Mt.29.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. 129

the DUigence, on Sunday at 12, for Calais. Went to
Brunet's, and from thence to Captain Black's to din
ner, where Haydon and I met Roberton. Spent a
pleasant e\Tening witli Captain Black. I came home,
and had M. Brunet Avitli me tiU late.
2d.
Went Avith Haydon to draw the remainder of the
money I had in my letter of credit ; then to purchase
some music and to procure my passport. Went with
Mr. Wyburn and Haydon to see the first picture of
an artist, and afterwards the Hercules of a sculptor,
which I thought very weU.
As I had this morning taken to M. Delpech two
prints and one proof of The Ydlage Podticians, to put
in his windows, he caUed this evening to give me a
receipt for the prints. He told me that a number of
people had been looking at the prints, and that some
EngUsh people had told him of the picture of Blind-
man's Buff they had seen in London. Settled some
bills, and packed up my portmanteau for travelhng.
3rd.
M. Brunet caUed to breakfast. Called on Madame
Solvine, who took me to see a work her husband had
pubhshed at Mr. Vincent's, a painter of the old school.
Saw the work, and saw the pictures of Mr. Vincent
and his Avife, who had been both painters of eminence
in their day. Made this morning a present of a small
reticule to Madame Lenoble for her attcmtion. Got
a fiacre, and was accompanied by Saywell to N6tre
Dame, where I met Messrs. Haydon, Roberton, and

430 THE LIFE OF 1814.
Brunet. The dihgence was ready to set off, and we
were soon in motion. We had a very pleasant day's
journey, and traveUed aU night.
4th.
Arrived at Amiens to breakfast. Went to the
cathedral ; saw that a number of the ornaments about
it had been destroyed by the demagogues in the time
of the Revolution. Was shown here a reUc of the face
of St. John the Baptist, in a glass case, which some of
the people paid great reverence to. We traveUed the
whole day, and got to Montreuil at 9 o'clock at night.
This town is very strongly fortified. The English offi
cers that were Avith me said that they had not seen
any place in France so strong, and only Badajos in
Spain stronger. In the middle of the night we stopped
at a toAvn, where we were overtaken by a regiment of
English cavalry going to embark at Boulogne. The
effect of the troops passing and the trumpet sounding,
with the beauty of the moonhght, Avas very imposing.
5th.
Arrived at Boulogne at 5 o'clock. This is a large
toAvn, but we had not time to see much of it. There
were several Enghsh cavalry regiments ready to em
bark. We found in the diligence a lady who gave us
a particular account of her sufferings in the Revolu
tion. She had lost her husband and two chddren.
We arrived at Calais early in the day, and after going
through the form of getting our passports and trunks
examined, we went on board, and arrived at Dover at
11 o'clock at night. The inn we Avent to at Dover,

Mt.29. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 431
after what we had seen of the accommodations in
France, was a. very comfortable place indeed. Next
morning I went to the custom-house, to see my oavu
trunk and the trunk of the French lady examined.
We walked about afterwards to see the toAvn and the
fortifications on the hiU. At 4 o'clock I got into the
coach, traveUed all night, and arrived at Kensington
at 8 o'clock next mornhig. The country I passed
through from Dover to London bore a \Tery striking
contrast to aU that I had seen on the Continent; and
whatever delight or satisfaction I haA'e derived from
my journey to Paris, it has not made me think the
less of my OAvn country.

432

CHAPTER XII.
"DISTRAINING FOB BENT."  CANOVA IN LONDON.  AVILKIE IN
HOLLAND — LETTERS TO SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, JOHN ANDER
SON AND MR. RAIMBACH.  AVILKIE IN SCOTLAND.  LETTER FROM
SIR WALTER SCOTT.  WILKIE AT ABBOTSFORD. — "THE ABBOTS
FORD FAMILY."  SCOTT'S DESCRIPTION OF WTLKTe's PICTURE.
Wllkie on his return declared that he was more
astonished than instructed by his visit to Paris* : the
manners were little to his Uking, the works of art
less, and he was not sufficiently acquainted Avith the
language to enter heartdy into the humours of the
people. The journey was visible neither in the man
nor his works : he acquired no new method of con
ceiving or of handling a subject, and the people
Avith aU their levities passed over him as a breeze
passes over the Atlantic, leaving no mark behind. He
found on reaching London that The Letter of Intro
duction had given his reputation a push forward : aU
who saw it remembered something which reminded
them of it in their own early history, when the world
Avas opening on them, and friends were cold and few;
and it is said that it was the first of his pictures which
laid effectual hold of the French heart : but this was
* From a Journal of this period I extract the following entry: —
"1814. July 11. To the Exhibition, which looked very odd after what
I had seen in Paris : thought that a little more correctness in drawing
would have done no harm."
This was Wilkie's opinion to the end of his too short but very brilliant
career.

^t. 29. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 433
not tUl it had passed under the graver of Burnet, and
appeared as a print. The foUoAving letter reveals a
httle of its history : —
TO SAMUEL DOBREE, ESQ.
Dear Sir Kensington, 13th July, 1814.
I haA'e just returned from France, where I was
when your letter of the 28th May reached this. The
Exhibition at Somerset House having closed on Sa
turday last. I am to haA'e my pictures to-day, and, if
it be perfectly agreeable to yourself and fandly, AviU
have great pleasure in waiting upon you at Waltham-
stow, with The Letter of Introduction on Saturday
next. Yours, &c, D.W.
This very characteristic picture was long the orna
ment of the Uttle coUection of Mr. Dobree at Wal-
thamstow: the great beauty of its composition and
colour has had many admirers. It is still after some
vicissitudes a heir-loom in the family.
After painting The Pedlar for his friend Dr. BaiUie,
to whose skiU he attributed, and with reason, his
restoration to health, Wilkie turned his thoughts on
a scene which his oavti Exhibition in Pall Mall had
presented, when the fine picture of The Village Holi
day was unexpectedly distrained for rent due by an
earher tenant. His countryman Burns exclaimed,
when he saw the roup of an unfortunate farmer's stock,
" Rigid economy and decent industry, do you preserve
VOL. I. F F

434 THE LIFE OF 1814.
me from being the principal dramatis persona in such a
scene of horror ! " and the great artist, whose love of
independence was equaUy strong, but more temperate
than that of the poet, did not see Avithout emotion the
villanous clutch of the law laid on a work from
which he hoped increase of fame as well as income.
His anger did not overcome him so far as to hinder
him from storing some of the incidents in his memory
for future use: the cool calm lawyer's clerk, the
churlish bailiff, and the mustering wrath of some of
his north-country friends, are aU to be found in this
admirable picture.
He studied the whole with much care; tried the
individual groups how they looked of themselves;
drew each figure separate; again united them into
one consistent whole ; and brooded over the scene tid
he wrought it into harmony both of grouping and
expression. When this was accomplished he expanded
it on canvas; put in the nature from the life, sub
mitted it in its progress to his friends, and carefuUy
watched their looks to observe how they received it.
The general impression seemed to be that, though as
faithful as truth itself to the reahties of hfe, it was
sadder than what was usual Avith the artist ; and
some even went so far as to say that it would no
longer be safe for any one to levy a distraint, so
much would this picture warm the public heart
against the law. Wilkie, who had no such fear of the
terrors of the pencil, listened the rather to those who
pointed out how the expression of one part might be
heightened, and a truer harmony conferred on another ;
nor did he hear Avithout a silent satisfaction that he

Mt.30. SIR DAVID AVLLKIE. 435
had been thinking of groupings in the pictures of
Teniers and Ostade whUe The Distraining for Rent
was groAving beneath his hands. It Avas a favourite
theory of his to keep some fine picture in his mind
whde his brush Avas Avet, that in waiting he might
warm his taste by its beauties, and, Avithout exactly
imitating, create something akin to it in spirit and
feeling. That he had any particular picture in his thoughts
when he painted The Distraining for Rent, no one
has eA'er said : it is an original work to all appearance,
and one of those which sprang up from the artist's
observation, rather than from books. The scene is
very happdy imagined : the house is not Avithout
warnings of what is coming ; the idle jack, the burnt-
out fire, the empty bee-hive, are so many intimations
of mismanagement or slackness of industry. Though
the visit of the bailiff Avith the laAvyer's clerk has
thrown the house and ad it contains into violent
commotion, such a visit, it is plain, could not be
whoUy unexpected. The human heart is prone to
compassion; and that of the spectator melts at the
sight of the fainting mother and her helpless children,
already in want of food, and about to be deprived of
bed and bedding. The father seems to upbraid him
self for the misery which has fallen on all that he
loved; and there are AviUing hands and ready tongues
at his side to aid and assist him in retaining a hold
of his own. In the midst of all this, the merciless
lawyer, a smooth, smug, smart-dressed man, sits on the
bed-side, making out an inventory of the poor tenant's
goods and chattels, under protection of the baihff, who
ff 2

436 THE LIFE OF 1815.
holds his cudgel like one who can use it, and eyes the
frowning group Uke one who has more law on his
side than tenderness in his heart. A fellow in a cap,
who seems to be drowsy with drink, caUs out the
names, and lays his hand on the various articles, as
the other writes ; whUe, at the other end of the pic
ture, a woman in a Scotch mutch holds her apron
near her eyes, and regards the scene with a quiet
glance of subdued melancholy.
It was one of the settled maxims of WUkie, that a
price should not be fixed for a picture before it was
finished; " for," said he, " it may, from being handled
in a happy mood, or being frdler of character than at
first contemplated, be worth double the fixed price ;
or it may chance to be less fertUe of interest when
completed than when it presented itself at first to the
fancy, and not be worth more than half the proposed
sum : either way the price is unfair, and the cus
tomer or the painter is wronged." The history of his
works forced this maxim vdth double force on his
mind : he fixed no price on The Distraining for Rent,
but sent it to the Exhibition of the British Insti
tution, where it attracted much attention, and was
welcomed as one of his happiest compositions. The
proprietor of The Letter of Introduction desired to
haAre a second Avork from so popular a hand, and
wrote to remind Wilkie that he had promised to let
him know when he had one ready which had not
found a purchaser.

Mt.30. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 437

TO SAMUEL DOBREE, ESQ.
Dear Sir Kensington, 6th June, 1815.
It gives me great pleasure to be remembered
by you, and to find you desirous of possessing ano
ther of my pictures. The only one I have been en
gaged upon since I haA'e had the pleasure of seeing
you is The Distraining for Rent, which, being neither
a smaU nor a humorous subject, does not answer the
description you have given me. At a future time,
however, I hope to be able to hit upon a subject that
wUl exactly suit you. Your being so weU satisfied
Avith the picture I have already done, avUI give me
additional pleasure in undertaking it. I am, &c, D.W.
But though several purchasers appeared, the Di
rectors of the British Institution stepped in, and
became the proprietors, at the price of six hundred
guineas ; giving in this way the attestation of their
name to the surpassing exceUence of the picture. The
object of this association is two-fold : first, by the
exhibition of choice works ofthe chief masters, foreign
and native, to prove, by example, to what height art
may rise when lofty objects are pursued ; and secondly,
to encourage merit by giving premiums for the best
pictures produced by Uving painters. Portraits, how
ever high their merit, are excluded from sharing
either in their purse or their approbation : — this may
be accepted as a proof that they either think them
F F 3

438 THE LIFE OF 1815.
unworthy of ranking with high art, or imagine that
the portrait branch of the British Tree of Art is
wet with dew, and moistened with rain, whde the
loftier boughs are left to perish and wither in the
sun and wind. However that may be, there can be
no doubt that some of the portraits of Reynolds, and
Lawrence, and Jackson, and PluUips, and WUkie —
more particularly the WUUam Blake of Phdlips, and
the Earl of Inverness, in the Highland garb, of Wilkie
— take their place in the historic ranks of art ; and
there can be as Uttle doubt that the Royal Academy
looked with coldness and dislike on the British Insti
tution when first estabhshed. Several of the members
said that it was unfair to bring the masterpieces of
other days in opposition to the yearly offspring of
Uving talent; and unkind, since two exhibitions in
the same season and time would to a certainty be
injurious to an academy which had no government
support, and instructed its students, fed its widows
and orphans, and maintained the dignity of the fine
arts out of the fruits of its annual exhibition.
Widde's next work was his beautiful picture of
The Rabbit on the Wad, of which he says, in a
letter to his sister, " In many parts I haA'e suc
ceeded better than common in the painting." Like
most of his works, The Rabbit on the WaU was
the offspring of his own observation; and has its
origin in one of those rustic sleight-of-hand tricks
which he loved to see performed, and sometimes to
embody. The Rabbit on the WaU, or, as it is some
times called in Scotland, The Hare amang the Kale, is
a feat of hand familiar to every body ; and, when per-

2Et.30.

SIR DAVID WIl.KIE. 439

formed Avith dexterity, still excites the curiosity and
wonder exhibited, by the artist, in the looks of the
younger portion of the household. The picture re
presents a husbandman who seems just returned from
his daily labour, seated amongst his chUdren, Avhom
he proceeds to amuse, as soon as his eArening candle
is lighted, with such harmless feats as children love.
He puts the candle in the hand of a little girl ; tAvists
his hands into each other, putting two fingers up for
the long tender ears, two fingers down for the con
stantly moving feet, and, imitating Avith finger and
thumb the munching mouth of the little animal,
throws, by means of the candle, a shadow resembling
a hving rabbit upon the wad. Nothing can exceed
the infantine glee of the youngest cldld on perceiving
this simulation : it pudders Avith its Uttle feet, springs
as if it would escape from the arms of its mother, who
Arith a grave sndle enjoys its raptures : whUe a second
chUd, some twelvemonth older, regards the shadow
Avith a face in which fear and wonder mingle, and
hardly knows whether to regard his father as a Avizard
or no. Nor is the person who performs this rustic
marvel unworthy of observation : he keeps an oblique
look out on the wad to see that he holds the delusion
cleverly up, and makes the shadoAvy animal move as
if it reaUy enjoyed a supper of dewy clover, and this
he performs Avith an odd gravity truly diverting.
Burnet has engraved, nor diminished in the least the
glee of this picture. It was in the Exhibition of
1816, and had many admirers.
In the foUowing letter Wilkie speaks of an order
f f 4

440 THE LIFE OF 1815.
he had received for a picture from the Marquis of
Stafford, and of Canova's visit to London: —

TO JOHN ANDERSON, ESQ., EDINBURGH.
Kensington, 10th Dec. 1815.
For this month past I have been very unsettled in
my studies, from the difficulty of making an arrange
ment Avith the Marquis of Stafford. I have at last,
however, succeeded in satisfying him with a sketch,
and I am now about to begin the picture, which avUI
not be so large as I should have wished, coming from
such a quarter, but large enough to occupy me for
several months. The subject is a breakfast scene,
and I am now hard at work in making a beginning.
The scene is very simple ; represents no story, but is
admirably adapted for painting.
We have lately had Canova, the celebrated sculptor
from Rome, among us. He was sent to Paris by the
Pope to arrange the carrying back of the works of
art that belong to the Itahan states ; and when his
business there was over, he came to see the state of
the arts in this country. I had the good fortune to
be introduced to him, soon after his arrival, by Lord
Holland, and had the honour of a caU from him at
my house, which has given me the means of forming
an acquaintance Avith him that may be of importance
to me at a future time. He had great attention
shown him by the nobdity during his stay; and, as
we consider him an artist of uncommon powers, it
was thought that the Royal Academy should show
him some mark of distinction, which the -members of

JEt. 30.

SUt DAVTD AVILKIE. 441

the Academy at last agreed to do in the good old
English way, by inviting lnm to a dinner in the
Academy. He saw the works of a great number of
our painters and sculptors during his stay ; and,
among the rest, was once or tAvice at Haydon's, Avith
whose picture he expressed himself Arery much pleased.
As he could not come out to Kensington to take leave
of me, he has Avritten a very handsome letter. It is
in Itahan, and expresses so much kindness and atten
tion that I shaU keep it as a pleasing memorial of his
friendship. He was presented to the Prince Regent
the day before he went away. His appearance has
made a stir among us. D.W.
The state of his health stiU continued to excite the
fears of WUkie's friends, and he yielded to their per
suasions to let his mind, as ploughmen say, lie faUow
for a whUe tUl he made a tour among the gaUeries
of the Netherlands. He had a twofold aim in this ;
he desired — whUe by fresh air, new scenes, and
new faces, he amused his mind and amended his
health — to improAe his taste in composition and his
skdl in colouring, for which he felt that the Dutch
were aU but unequaUed. Y Tide preparing for de
parture, the present of a medaL struck in honour of
the twenty-five years reign of his friend West as
President of the Royal Academy, called forth the
foUowing acknowledgment : —

442 THE LIFE OF 1816.

TO BENJAMIN WEST, ESQ. P. R.A.
g^r . Kensington, 17th July, 1816.
I have received, and shaU have great pleasure
in preserving, the medal you have done me the
honour to present me vdth in commemoration of the
twenty-fifth year of your presidency of the Royal
Academy; and, Avith my acknowledgments for this
token of your friendship, I beg to express my sincere
Avish that you may be long preserved to fid the high
station you have so long held among us, and to con
tinue an ornament to the arts of our country.
I have the honour to be, dear Sir,
Your very obedient humble Servant, D. WlLKLE.
Some time in August, WUkie, Avith Raimbach the
engraver for a companion, set out on his meditated
journey : he had read of the wonders of Dutch colour
ing in the tour of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and had wit
nessed its marvels in the pictures of Teniers and
Ostade ; indeed, it was difficult to obtain his attention
to any thing else, if an Ostade or a Teniers happened
to be near him : to penetrate the mystery of their
colours would have been with him a discovery equal
to the philosopher's stone. From the following letter
we may obtain a glimpse of that which was upper
most in his mind when he passed through the far-
famed gaUeries of Holland : —

^T si. SHt DAVID WILKIE. 443

TO THOMAS WILKIE.
My dear Brother, Amsterdam, 22d Sept. 1816.
As I was very desu-ous, on finding myself on
the Continent, to extend my tour into HoUand, Mr.
Raimbach agreed to leave me at Antwerp, and return
to Margate by the way of Ostend. I stopped one
day at Antwerp after he was gone, and, as I hap
pened to be accosted in the morning by a person I
had knoAvn formerly, of the name of Dickie, a friend
of Mrs. Paterson's, and who seemed A'ery AviUing to
assist me, I found myself pretty weU off in gaining
information about the place. I also caUed to see the
pictures of Mr. Sueyers, and, having introduced
myself to him, I found him very attentive. He took
me to call on two of the first artists in the toAvn, and
was at the pains to get me a good deal of information
for my route in HoUand,"and also two letters of in
troduction at Amsterdam. He also took me to the
Museum, where I was highly deUghted with a sight
of the pictures that had come back from Paris, en
joying the additional advantage of seeing them on
the ground. They seem to be the very masterpieces
of Rubens, and, so far as I could judge, are in excel
lent condition. It is supposed that they must have
been injured by the journey, but I saAv no appearance
of damage of that sort. One I saw in much more
imminent danger from a picture-cleaner, Avho seemed
to be carrying on his operations of renewal to the full
extent of a radical reform.
The three pictures in the great church I was de-

444 THE LIFE OF 1816.
hghted to see ; and never did I feel more strongly the
ruffianism of their removal from such a place. They
looked magnificent.
After seeing a great deal of Antwerp, I set off, on
Thursday last at noon, on my way to Amsterdam.
We slept at Breda, and, on the second day, after
passing by Gorcum and Utrecht, we arrived at this
celebrated place. The character of the country is
singular beyond every thing, and yet it is more like
England than any other place I have seen abroad. It
is a complete specimen of the triumph of industry
over every possible disadvantage. The heavy rains
have flooded the whole country. The land seems to
float on the surface of the waters, and if it was not
for a most perfect stUlness and a dead level, they
would inevitably wash away the whole country. The
inundation, however, does not seem to be regarded as
a serious calamity. The hay vdU not be so easdy
dried, and the cattle wdl be for a time deprived of
their pasture ; but the pumps and windndlls wdl, in
process of time, clear away the whole. We saw the
people carrying in the hay in boats from one field to
another ; and those who were cutting it, were stand
ing above their knees in water. But notwithstanding
all this, the roads are as fine as any I have seen;
and the cottages, to the very doors of which the
water had risen, seemed as clean, and as dry, and as
comfortable as they could have been in the finest
season. What struck me the most in my journey in
Holland was the perfect resemblance every thing bore
to what I have seen in the Dutch pictures. Every
bush, and house, and Avindow, and, above all, the

Mr. 81.

SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 145

people themselves, struck me as if I had seen them
and knoAvn them before. The styles of their different
painters were so A'arious, and their variety of objects so
few, that one may say every object has been painted,
and, of course, therefore perfectly famUiar to one ac
quainted Avith their pictures. I have felt this indeed
to such a degree, that it almost seems Uke as if one
had a previous existence.
Amsterdam is A'ery unhke the toAvns in Flanders.
It approaches, or rather goes beyond, London in an
other extreme, that is, in neatness and cleanliness.
The people seem to be constantly scrubbing, and the
houses have, in consequence, a degree of purity that
I never saw before. The fault found is, that they
do nothmg else, and that, although their houses are
so very clean, they are not at aU clean in their own
persons. Living, too, is very nearly as dear here as
in London; every thing is high priced, and, except
the bread, potatoes, and gin, which are exceUent, I
have not met Avith any article that is tolerable.
I have been to see several places, and to caU on
several people here; I find them very civU to me.
I caUed on a printseUer of great respectabiUty, who
has subscribed for half a dozen of The Rent Day. I
have been employing my time mostly in making
sketches of the people and of the buUdings. My
sketch-book is an introduction and an amusement to
every body. The passengers were very much in
terested Avith what I was doing as avc came from
Antwerp, and, indeed, through the whole of the
journey. I find myself something like the basket in

446 THE LIFE OF 1816.
the tale ; by making a sketch I can please everybody.
This morning, as the Valet de Place was taking me
through some of the narrow streets, I saw a young
woman with a cap on her head that is pecuhar to
North Holland: as we found they sold gin in the
house we went in, I called for some, and began her
portrait. Her father and her mother, on perceiving
what I was about, very soon became interested and
pleased Avith it, and she herself would scarcely let
me away unless I would promise to make one also
for her.
To-morrow morning I go off for Haerlem, by. the
Canal, and before the evening expect to get as far as
the Hague. At one of the towns I stopt at I found,
from the book that was kept at the inn, that George
Veitch from Edinburgh had passed two days before,
on his way by the Hague to Amsterdam. This made
me take the opposite course by Utrecht, in order that
I might meet him. I have not, however, heard of
him again. D.W.

TO ABRAHAM RAIMBACH, ESQ.
My dear Sir, Kensington, 8th Oct. 1816.
I regretted much that you did not stop another
day at Antwerp ; you would have been greatly struck
with the pictures just come from Paris, at the Mu
seum. They appeared to me to be among the finest
Avorks of Rubens ; and as they Avere not hung up, I

Mt. 31.

SIR DAVID WtLKlK. 447

could see them to great advantage. These, with a.
considerable number of the Dutch pictures that had
been returned to the Hague, and which I suav under
the same circumstances, Avere the finest works of art
I found in my whole journey.
The day after you left me 1 found some inhabitants
of the place, who gaAe me a good deal of information
about Avhat I most wanted to know. I Avas told there
was no printseUer of any consequence at Antwerp,
but that there was a respectable one at Amsterdam,
and another at Brussels. By this time I had deter
mined to extend my tour as far as the capital of
HoUand. I accordingly left Antwerp the second day
after you were gone, about mid-day; got to Breda
that night, and next morning made a most agreeable
journey by Gorcum and Utrecht, and reached Am
sterdam late in the evening. At Antwerp I had been
provided Avith letters of introduction to this place,
which I dehvered in the first instance, and by one of
them got admission to the Museum of Pictures, Avith
which I was very much dehghted. I met here Avith
a young man whose father was an Enghsh artist
resident at the Hague. He was of great use to me at
Amsterdam ; and, amongst other things, told me that
Mynheer Buffa, an ItaUan printseUer long established
in that city, Avas the most respectable person in that hne
in the whole country. I accordingly called upon him,
and found both himself and his son, to all appearance
very respectable in point of stabUity and connexion
in their trade, and very wiUing to do what they could
for our concern. They showed me impressions both
of The Politicians and The Bhnd Fiddler which they

448 THE LIFE OF 1816.
had had from the Boydells, whom they talked of as
very old acquaintances in the way of business. They
told me they would rather not give me an order for
The Politicians, as it would be better for them to have
it with The Fiddler from BoydeU ; but they would
subscribe for half a dozen prints and one proof of
The Rent Day, on the terms which I offered, and at
their request I left the etching and one of the proofs
of The Politicians ; the former to be shown by way of
gaining subscribers, and the latter to be accounted
for to us. The terms of payment I also arranged
with them, and wiU explain when I see you.
From Amsterdam I went to Haerlem to breakfast, by
the canal; heard the celebrated organ, which was reaUy
wonderful, and certainly finer than the one at Ghent.
I dined at Leyden, which I reached also by the canal,
and at night got to the Hague. I was induced to stop a
day here on account of meetmg with the EngUsh artist
whose son I had met with at Amsterdam. The day after
I went to Rotterdam, and the day after that, making
altogether eight days, I returned to Antwerp. I ex
pected to hear something of Haydon when I got to
Brussels ; but finding that he was not come, and that
the weather was very unsettled, I gave up aU inten
tion of again visiting the field of Waterloo. I there
fore resolved to make the best of my Avay to England,
by the way of Calais. As it was Sunday when I was
at Brussels, I could not weU go to find out the print
seUer, whose name indeed I had forgot. I regretted
this the less as the Messrs. Buffa did not seem to
think that there was a printseUer at Brussels of any
extensive connexion.

2ET.8L

SIR DAVID WILKIK. 44!)

I accordingly set off for Ghent, and Avhen I got to
the Lion d'Or, was surprised to find that the pair of
boots that were left there had been sent to the Lion
d'Or at Antwerp. I had inquired several times of the
Bureau des Diligences about them at Antwerp, but
never thought of inquiring at the inn where I was
residing; and the people of the inn being very much
unacquainted Avith Enghsh names, never thought of
telling me they were there. As it Avas, however, I
Avrote immediately to a friend at Antwerp, to get
them and send them by a package containing the
helmet and some other things I had purchased to be
sent by sea.
On travelling through France, the most smgular
occurrence was that of my being arrested at Calais, in
the act of completing a sketch of the celebrated Gate
of Hogarth. A young Englishman who had come
from LUle with me had agreed to remain with me
whUe I was making the drawmg; and as I had first
obtained leave from the officer on guard, I expected
no sort of interruption. After I had been at work,
however, about an hour and a half, with a great
crowd about me, a gendarme came up to me, and
Avith an imperious tone said, " Par quelle autorite"
faites-vous cela, monsieur?" I pointed to the officer
on guard, and told him that he had given me leave.
— " Ce n'est rien, c'est delendu, monsieur: il faut que
vous fermiez votre Uvre et m'accompagniez a I'Hotel
de VUle." This I of course agreed to most wiUingly ;
and beckoning my friend to go too, I went along with
him, Avith all the people staring at us. At the Hotel
de VUle we were requested to go to the mayor ; and as
VOL. I. G G

450 THE LIFE OF 1816.
we were marching along -to his house, the gendarme
said, " Voda, monsieur le maire ; arretons." We
stopped tiU the mayor came up, and learning from us
what was the matter, he dismissed the gendarme,
took us back to his house, and told me that as there
were a number of people there, as in other places,
who, on seeing a foreigner making a drawing of a
fortified place, would naturaUy suppose it to be from
a hostde intention, and finding it done " en plein
jour," would be apt to blame the magistrates for
adoAving it, adding it was necessary therefore that I
should not go on Avith my draAving, although from
examining it he was satisfied that I only did it for
amusement, and therefore regretted the interruption.
I retained tUl a very late period the intention of
being Avith y ou at Margate, and of sailing up to London
by the steam-boat. I found myself, however, very sick
crossing at Dover ; and when I got to the custom
house, I was so harassed that I was glad to get to
London any how. What do you think the feUows
did ? They seized upon the proof of The PoUticians ;
and it was by mere accident that I discovered it was
missing, or recovered it in time.
I do not know whether you are still at Margate,
but I write you at hazard. When you come back, I
shall be ready to touch on the proof of The Rent
Day, which MacDonald has got strained upon a board
for the purpose. Yours very truly, D.W.
To Sir George Beaumont he communicates the
impressions which his mind had received from visit-

Mr. 31.

SIR DAVID WILKIE. 451

ing the land of Rubens, Teniers, Ostade, Cuyp, Jan
Stein, and Wouvermans. He returned, he said, Avith
a resolution strengthened rather than shaken by Avhat
he had seen, to depart in no respect whatever from
what he regarded as his oavu pecuUar Une.

TO SHI GEORGE BEAUMONT.
Dear Sir Geor°*e Kensington, 12th Dec. 1816.
For some time back I haA'e been only waiting
for an occasion to Avrite to you, and am happy now to
have such a one as your Aery obhging letter presents.
I thank you for your considerate inquiries about my
health, which owes much, I assure you, to such inter
vals of relaxation as you recommend. With a view to
this, indeed, and in order to make a tour that you
advised me to long ago, I have lately made a journey
through Flanders and HoUand.
One of the first circumstances that struck me
wherever I went was what you had prepared me for,
the resemblance that every thing wore to the Dutch
and Flemish pictures. On leaving Ostend, not only
the people, the houses, and trees, but whole tracts of
country, reminded one of the landscapes of Teniers;
and, on getting further into the country, this was only
reheved by the pictures of Rubens, Wouvermans, and
some other masters, taking his place. I thought I
could trace the particular districts in Holland where
Ostade, Jan Stein, Cuyp, and Rembrandt had studied,
and could fancy the very spot where pictures of other
masters had been painted. Indeed, nothing seemed
gg 2

452 THE LIFE OF 1816.
new to me in the whole country ; for I had been famihar
with it ad upon canvas : and, what one could not help
wondering at was, that these old masters should have
been able to draw the materials of so beautiful a variety
of art from so contracted and monotonous a country.
One of the next objects that interested me was the
view of the pictures that had been returned from
Paris to Antwerp and the Hague. I saw the three
great works of Rubens, the Assumption of the Virgin,
The Ascent, and The Descent, restored to their places
in the Great Church at Antwerp, and never felt more
strongly the atrocity of their removal. The other
pictures were stid upon the ground in the Museum,
and I saw them with every advantage for examination.
General Phipps and Mr. Jackson had made the same
tour ; but as they had landed first in Hodand, they
had more leisure to examine the private coUections,
which I entirely missed. I passed Mr. Jackson on the
road between Ghent and Brussels, but could not stop
him. The general I found at Brussels.
The field of Waterloo was to me, as to every Eng
lishman, a subject of the deepest interest. Whatsoever
one's pursuits might be, it was impossible to visit such
a place but with the keenest associations. I did not
expect that, to a common observer, the genius dis
played in the choice of the ground would be so appa
rent ; but it gave me a most striking idea of the
powers of our great General. I wonder no one has
thought of making a model of the field : the ruin of
Hougomont would, by itself, make the finest subject
for this that it is possible to conceive.
As I know you Avid feel interested in any circum-

.&T.31.

SIB DAVID WILKIE. 453

stance of a pleasing nature that occurs to me, I cannot
refrain from mentioning that the Duke of AYellington
has commissioned me to paint him a picture ; and that
when he was last in England, he caUed upon me with
some friends to give me the subject. He wants it to
be a number of soldiers of A'arious descriptions seated
upon the benches of the door of a public house, with
porter and tobacco, talking OA'er their old stories.
At present we are ahve in art. The studies made in
the British GaUery are on \iew, and look more hke a
school of art than they did before. The entire south
room is fiUed with large draAvings of heads and groups
of Jthe Cartoons. Haydon has made a great number,
of which it is not saying much that they are the best,
though there are others of great merit. The copies of
the od pictures are not so good ; and as for the Claudes,
they have almost aU mistaken them.
At the Academy we are proceeding in praiseworthy
emulation of what was first done at the GaUery. We
have got the Bacchus and Ariadne of Titian, and
Avithin these few days the Cartoon of Ananias. A
premium was given the other night for a very fair
copy of a Vandyke.
Haydon has lately been able to work constantly at
his picture, and has got on admirably. He has finished
a row of heads on the left hand of Christ — aU good, —
and the head of St. Peter is, I think, the finest cha
racter he has done. Though nothing but heads are
finished, it begins to look full of subject. It avUI add
greatly to his reputation ; and if it can excite the re
hgious feeling of the people in its favour, its success
may be incalculable. He went with me on Sunday
gg 3

454 THE LLFE OF 1816.
last to wait on the Misses Badhe at Hampstead, and
was, as you may suppose, very much pleased Avith your
good friend Miss Joanna.
When you come to toAvn you avUI most hkely find
two of my pictures at the GaUery. The one is Dr.
BaiUie's ; the other a scene of Sheep-washing, from a
sketch I made in Wdtshire. The Breakfast Party I
am now at work upon, and have got far advanced
with it. With regard to the Sheep-washing, it is of
course, being a landscape, entirely new to me. I cer
tainly wish to get practice and to obtain some kind of
proficiency in this way ; but my ambition is not more
than that of enabling myself to paint an out-door
scene Avith facility, and in no respect whatever to
depart from my own line. D. W.
" Your interesting account of the Low Countries,
says Sir George in reply, " and indeed the whole of
your letter, gave me very great pleasure. The re
marks upon the Field of Waterloo do credit to your
feehngs. I do, indeed, rejoice to hear of your success
in your profession ; and what could be more so than
the commission of the Duke of Wedington and his
visit. So much pleasure does it give me, that you
are indebted to that occurrence for the trouble of
receiving another letter so soon. I almost fancy I
see in my mind's eye the excellent use you avUI make
of the subject, and the animated countenances you
will give to the soldiers Avho are recounting their
gaUant exploits to each other. I think I remember
an exceUent description in Goldsmith's Deserted VU-

.Et. 31. SIR DA\rID AV1LK1K. 155
lage of an old soldier shouldering his crutch and de
scribing his actions to his family and friends on his
return from the Avars. I mention this because I think
any thing analogous to Avhat avc are about, Avell
treated in poetry, animates and Uluminates the mind;
and although we may not adopt anj- thing literally
from the poet, the imagination may be impregnated,
and produce characters and impressions which might
not otherwise haA'e occurred. I think Ave are pretty
weU agreed upon the point, that the painter had better
be the author of his oavu subject ; for if the poet from
whom he takes his ideas be a moderate one, he had
certainly better trust to himself; and if he be excel
lent, the mind of the spectator is prejudiced. This I
take to be the main cause of the pretty general fadure
of those who paint from Shakspeare, who impresses so
striking a picture previously upon his reader, that it
is a hundred to one the picture, however excellent,
may faU of its effect : it is indeed almost impossible
to contend successfuUy Avith a strong preAious im
pression. " Your account of Haydon's progress gives me
sincere pleasure : every thing may be expected from
him if he exerts himself uniformly ; and such is his
enthusiasm, I think there cannot be any doubt of that.
You assuredly know that I have The Macbeth; for,
although the size is a serious inconvenience to me,
yet the picture remaining upon his hands gave me
uneasmess ; and upon his expressing his wish that I
would take it instead of the one he was about to
begin for me, I compUed ; for my first Avish was to
serve him. Indeed, excepting the size of the figure
g g 4

456 THE LIFE OF 1817.
of Macbeth, in which he has however shoAvn great
power, although I think he has faded, the picture
is very fine, the colouring is excedent, and many
parts perhaps equal to any thing he avUI ever do. I
am very glad indeed to hear you avUI mix a Uttle
landscape painting vdth your other studies. I have
no doubt of your succeeding in any thing you under
take. I believe I told you in my last how much I
was gratified by my last year's Aisit to the mountains :
how I should like to see you there ! "
The picture of a landscape nature, to which the
close of Sir George Beaumont's letter aUudes, is caUed
Sheep-washing, and is in the coUection of Sir Thomas
Baring. Critics have sought and found the subject
in the Sheep-washing scene of Thomson; but the
painter would scarcely seek in poetry for what he would
find Avithout the help of song. The scene includes a
mUl, such as Rembrandt or Constable loved, and
which Wilkie it is dkely remembered to have seen
grinding corn on Eden-water. The mill again is a
sort of outshot or to-fall — as we Avord it in the north
— to a strange rickle of a dwelling house, which is at
once old and new, two stories and yet only one. Into
the mdl-stream, which is turned aside from its proper
purposes, two rustics are forcing a flock of sheep ; whUe
a couple of vigorous peasants stand up to the middle in
the pool below, seizing, sousing, and plunging them
about, tid with purified fleeces they are aUowed to
swim to the bank, and regain as they best may the
fold, where a black brother, whose fleece aU the waters
of the Eden could not whiten, seems to stand and

Mt.32. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 457
inquire Avhat all this unusual pudder is about. A
shepherd, Avith a staff in his hand, and a Avhite-
mouthed coUey at his foot, stands on the watch that
none of the flock escape from his care. This is said
to be the sole landscape of Wilkie ; yet, as in the
back-grounds of Reynolds and Raeburn, there are
snatches of landscape scattered about his pictures of
a very pecuhar beauty.
During the early part of the year 1817, Wilkie
completed his picture of The Breakfast for the gaUery
of the Marquis of Stafford. In the foUoAving letter he
grudges a Uttle the long labour he had bestowed upon
it, a labour, as we shaU see, not lost upon its noble
OAvner : —
TO JOHN ANDERSON, ESQ., CUPAR, FLFE.
Kensington, 3d April, 1817.
In our art the general distress seems not to
have been much felt. A good number of pictures
have been sold this season in the British GaUery, and
artists continue to be pretty weU employed. The
picture I was painting for the Marquis of Stafford has
been finished some time, and is to go next week to
the Royal Academy. It has been seen by the Marquis
and Marchioness of Stafford, and decidedly approved
of. 1 think it wiU make an impression, but I almost
grudge the long time it has taken me.
The print from my picture of The Rent Day has
just been published, and seems very much liked. We
hope for a great sale, as 450 impressions were sold
within the first six days after publication. I expect
that the great sale avUI be in the country, and particu-

458 THE LIFE OF 1817.
larky in the agricultural districts. We have had a
considerable demand from Norfolk, and I shaU not be
satisfied if there is not as great a demand for them in
Fifeshire. I have heard that a portrait of the Earl of Hope-
toun has been voted for the County Hall at Cupar.
This is quite right, and is the first thing of the kind
they have ever thought of. This is a beginning, and
I hope the example avUI be foUowed in many future
cases. I observed that the Uttle town of Alost in
Flanders, not half the size of Cupar, has two or three
fine pictures by Rubens in its church. Our country
gentlemen should know this. D. W.
For the Stafford GaUery to open its doors and admit
a picture, was, as early as I remember, considered by
an artist a crowning proof of reputation, and a se
curity against forgetfulness : to get one of his works
placed in that far-famed collection WiUde was desirous ;
and when this was accomphshed, the noble fandly of
Gower treated him about the commission in a way too
handsome not to cad for the acknowledgments of the
artist. TO THE MARQUIS OF STAFFORD.
My Lord, Kensington, 9th July, 1817.
My picture of The Breakfast I have had this
morning the pleasure of delivering at Cleveland
House. The groom of the chambers has paid me, by
your lordship's desire, 400/. for it, a sum which, as

Mt.32. SIR DAA'ID AVILKIE. 459
it exceeds the price, 350 guineas, I engaged to paint
the picture for, I have received as a liberal mark of
your lordship's approbation of the work. A proper
receipt for the above sum, and in discharge of the
picture and frame, I have left at Cleveland House,
and Avith my best acknoAvledgments for the handsome
manner in which I haA'e been treated by your lord
ship throughout this business, I have the honour, &c. D. W.
This same year (1817) Wilkie was busied in pre
paring studies for his WeUington Picture, and also
for The Scotch Wedding, which had been commis
sioned by the Prince Regent. For the latter, as
Nature was to him his monitress and model, he re
solved to seek her where fashion had not intruded
on her charms, and where he had kept company Avith
her ere Fame had claimed him for her oaati. After
sending a smaU picture into the Royal Academy Ex
hibition, more for the sake of keeping up his con
nexion AAith that body, than Avith the hope of extending
or augmenting his fame, he set off for Scotland ; and
in a series of letters to his mother and sister, he de
scribes the course he pursued, the scenes and sights
he saAv, and what neAv pictures he conceived or
painted. TO MISS WILKIE.
My dear Sister, Glasgow, 1st August, 1817.
In Edinburgh I was quite hurried about, and
after aU did not see one half of the people I wanted to

460 THE LIFE OF 1817.
see. I went with Mr. Lister and fandly to Roslin
and Dalkeith, and had a pleasant and a quiet day.
At Dalkeith I saw aU the famUy pictures, which,
though not fine, always interest one from their
variety of date and of style. I felt the same sort of
interest in going over Holyrood House, when Mr.
Allan accompanied me, where what struck us the
most by far were the apartments of Queen Mary,
which are now furnished the same as she left them.
They gave me an idea of magnificence far beyond the
time, or what I should have thought our poor country
could have warranted. The tapestries are fine, and the
silver and velvet damask hangings, though battered
and tarnished by the two centuries they have gone
through, have stiU the marks of a tasteful and costly
brilliancy. These rooms had the appearance of being
fitted up in the French style. In one of the two
closets adjoining, which are dressed up as boudoirs,
Queen Mary was sitting at supper with Rizzio when
Darnley and the ruffians that were with him came in
and murdered him. He was dragged out of her
presence through a Uttle staircase that is concealed
by the tapestry, and we were shown the place under
the door of the chapel where he was instantly buried.
The actual scenes where such events took place you
may suppose interested us much and detained us
longer in the rooms than other people generally stay.
The old woman who was with us was ill-mannered
enough to complain, — we remonstrated, and the old
beldame became pert — so that the whole ended in
what Mr. John Clerk caUs a real skelpin flyte.
I should have been glad if Mr. AUan could have

iET.32. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 461
gone Avith me to the Highlands, but he certainly
cannot. Mr. Clerk and some others advised me
strongly to get the minister of Duddingston to go,
who is an artist as weU as a clergyman. On going
to Duddingston, however, he was away from home,
and his Avife (who is a very fine woman) told me she
doubted whether he could go, as his sacrament is just
coming on ; otherwise I beheve that not only he would
have gone, but that Mrs. Thomson, who is also a great
enthusiast, would have accompanied us one or two
of the stages. I accordingly left Edinburgh on Tuesday
last Avithout a companion, but with plenty of letters
of introductiom I saded from Newhaven in the
steam-boat up the Forth to Borrowstoness, where I
stopped to pay a visit to Dugald Stewart of Kinneill
House. I was received with the greatest kindness by
the Professor and his fandly. They sought out for
me an old farm-house with a cradle chimney. The
house was the finest specimen of the kind, every thing
about it was plentiful and in good order. It is of the
fashion of two hundred years back, and the family
had been on the farm for double that time. The
father, who is a very old man, remembered being at
the plough during the battle of Falkirk.
KinneUl House itself is very ancient and very
stately, and Uke other large old houses it has its
imaginary inhabitants as weU as its real ones. The
ladies of the family very soon let me into their secret,
assuring me at the same time that there was no truth
in it whatever. There are a number of the rooms
not now inhabited, and the country people have a
tradition about a Lady LUburn, who once Uved in

462 THE LIFE OF 1817.
them, and, from something strange in her history, is
supposed to visit them stid, and has been seen, it is
said, sading through the clouds at no very distant
date. The story was even repeated to me by Mr.
Stewart himself, when he took leave of me at night.
He said there had been strange noises heard in the
old apartments, but they were ad to be accounted for
by the old door that goes out upon the roof, which
the Avind bursts open on stormy nights, and makes a
jarring and creaking over the whole house. After aU
this, and vdth the stately look of the staircases and
apartments, with their awe-inspiring doors, I felt as
if I had the imagination of a Mrs. Radcliffe. The
famdy, however, induced me to stop two nights vdth
them ; so that we had frequent talks about the ghosts.
One advantage, they said, they derived from the haunted
character of their house was, that their garden never
had been broken into, and that their winter-apples,
and things of that kind, were at aU times safe from
depredation when kept in the apartment of the Lady
Ldburn. Mr. Stewart was so kind as to send me to see the
palace and church of Linhthgow, about three miles
off. Both conspire, with Holyrood House, to show
the magnificence of the Scottish kings. I saw the
Hall where the Scottish Parliament sat, and also the
room in which Mary, Queen of Scots, was born; and in
the church was shown the St. Catherine aisle, where
James IV. was warned by St. John of his defeat at
Flodden Field.
From Mr. Stewart's I went back to Bo'ness, and
from thence to Alloa, and on to Stirhng the same

JEt.32. SIR DAVID WTLKIE. 463
night. This is a very beautiful place. It is very
old, but rather decayed and dirty; but besides the
interest one might feel in wandering through a place,
with every step reminding you of antiquity and
decayed splendour, I could not help often reflecting,
AAith a sort of melancholy, on the associations it
brought up.
Glasgow is reaUy a magnificent place ; some of the
streets are very old and very fine, and sometimes
very Uke those of Antwerp and Ghent. There are
some of the streets here that would make a street in
the city of London look Uke mere trumpery.
I haA'e had a kind letter from Mr. Kirkman Finlay
inviting me to the Isle of Bute, Avhere he is for the
summer. He says he can show me some of the pri
mitive Highlanders. D.W.
During his stay in Edinburgh, Wilkie revisited
most of the favourite haunts of his youth, and loved
to hnger during moonhght in the High Street, looking
at the shadows of the taU houses, throAvn on the hiUs
and glens with which the city is surrounded. He
made good use of these remembrances when he
painted The Visit of George the Fourth to Holyrood ;
nor did he faU to caU in the Uke help when conceiv
ing The Escape of Queen Mary from Lochleven
Castle, for the scenery had been familar to him
almost from the cradle. AU who knew him are aware
how dear to his heart were the scenes of his early
days, and the friends of his boyish years — dearer,
perhaps, than the sough of fame — a fame confirmed

464 THE LIFE OF 1817.
by the public voice, that accompanied him now
wheresoever he went, and of the value of which he
was not insensible.

TO THOMAS WLLKIE.
- Karnes Castle, Isle of Bute,
My dear Brother, nth Aug. 1817.
I saw a great deal of Dr. Chalmers whUe in
Glasgow; and as I had to go to Handlton, he was so
kind as to propose to accompany me, and to go as far
as Lanark. While we were preparing we had the
offer of a companion, — a Quakeress. This accession
enabled us to hire a post-chaise, and we were rather
glad of her company, as it was adding a singular
ingredient to the party. We started at an early
hour, intending to breakfast Avith Professor Jardine,
where the Dr. and I were expected. On our way we
stopped at a place caUed Cambus Lang, remarkable
in the year '42 as the scene of Whitfield's preach
ing, and for the conversion of a number of his hearers.
The minister of the place showed us where the tent
stood, and the space of ground that his hearers occu
pied, to the amount of thirty thousand. We had a
good deal of talk about the remarkable conversion
of many of the hearers; but I observed that the
Quakeress, though she admired the scene, which was
particularly fine, never said a word about the reU
gious part of the discussion. The conversion is caUed
the work of Cambus Lang, and it made a great noise
in those days.
The minister of Cambus Lang went Avith us to
breakfast Avith Professor Jardine. Our friend, the

Mt. 82. SIR DAVID WTLKIE. 465
Professor, and his family, Avould Avonder not a little
at our good companion the Quakeress; but she is a
very respectable woman, and though possessing ad the
strict rules of her sect, she Avas very enthusiastic
about aU the natural beauties wre went to see. We
got on to Hamilton, where avc saw the palace and the
coUection of pictures. These are much celebrated
in Scotland, and certainly The Daniel in the Lion's
Den, by Rubens, mid a feAv portraits by Vandyke, did
not disappoint me. From Handlton we took our
course up the Clyde through a most beautiful dis
trict. I began to look for the Castle of Tidietudlem,
and for the hills that coA'er the scene of the battle of
Drumclog. The Doctor had not read " Old Mortality,"
and took httle interest in my enquiries ; and although
the Quakeress said, Doctor, thou hast not time to
read these kind of books, I made him promise to read
" The Tales of my Landlord" the first opportunity.
On getting to Lanark, we hurried to see the falls
of Corra Lin, with which we were greatly pleased.
We also passed by the cotton mills of that quacking re
generator, Mr. Owen ; but we had not time to see any
of his systems, and therefore took his improvements
upon trust. On coming back next day, we stopt to
see BothweU Bridge; it gave us an exact idea of the
real battle of the Covenanters, and also the fictitious
one of the death of Burley in the Tale.
On returning to Glasgow, I saw Mr. Finlay, and
engaged to accompany him to the Isle of Bute. Ac
cordingly, after seeing Avhat there was curious to be
seen in the College, and in the manufactures of Glas
gow, I accompanied him some days ago to this place.
VOL. I. h H

> >

466 THE LLFE OF 1817.
Mr. Finlay rents an old castle in this island near to
Roth say, caUed Karnes Castle; some of his friends
are now on a visit to him, and some are on a fishing
expedition. As my object is that of seeing the hfe
and manners of the common people, I was taken by
Mr. Finlay to some cottages close by, one of which
I have fixed upon as the scene of my observations.
It is a smaU farm-house close to the sea, held by a
family of Macdougals — fishermen. The house is
Mrs. Maclarty aU over. On entering it, it is misery
itself. The people and two good cows enter at the
same door. The fire is on the middle of the floor,
without any fire-place or legal mode of egress for the
smoke, consequently the place is in a mist and in
dust for ever ; notAvithstanding there is a hole at the
top of each gable, and whicK the smok&Jaas made a
lum of, yet the greatest quantity by far makes its
exit through the door. Amidst this appearance, how
ever, of misery and of want of comfort, the famdy
are far from being poor, and, take them altogether,
young and old, they are as fine a specimen of our
peasantry as I ever saw. The three sons are wonder
fully fine men ; they are herring-fishers, and have a
boat that cost them 80/. The bit of land they have
got they pay 30/. a-year for, and their possessions in
cattle, woollen and linen cloths, &c, very respectable.
There is one of the daughters we think very hand
some. Her name is Nancy, and she is employed in
all kinds of work, from white-seam and the making of
butter and cheese, doAvn to the gutting of fish and
the mucking of byres. Her cleanUness, therefore,
you may suppose, is only comparative, but she has

-St. 32. SIR DAVID WTLKIE. 467
an elegant figure and a sweet smile. She both dances
and sings, and wears her hair, you may tell Helen,
constantly in papers. I Avent one day to make a
study in oU of the house : this seemed to amuse them
very much, and as they are naturaUy hospitable, I
soon got acquainted Avith aU of them. This morning
I went back again to finish it. The young men and
the father were preparing to go AAith the boat to the
herring-fishery for a week, and there was a great deal
of confusion in rigging them out. But to my great
joy, who should they haA'e with them for the day but
the tador and his apprentice, Hector, who with goose
and law-board, was very busily employed in making
jackets and trowsers for the young seamen. I found
him a complete character, full of the Adllage news, and
fuU of curiosity about aU I could teU him. He was
measuring the young men before they set off: we
soon got very gracious, — he worked with his needle
and his shears, and I Avith my pened. I was de
Ughted to learn, from so authentic a source, aU the
clash and the claver of the country, aU the old stories
and antiquated customs ; and he, on his part, seemed
fuUy repaid by any thing I would teU him about the
people in the Castle, or about where I came from,
what business I was, and how my business or his
own were paid in London. When their dinner-time
came I was, with true Highland hospitality, asked to
partake. I took some cakes and cheese with them.
The taUor was here a very important man. The
knowledge and learning he showed before the good
simple people of the house was beyond every thing ;
and, what was more, he said grace, and returned
h H 2

468 THE LIFE OF 1817.
thanks, Avith a truly patriarchal reA^erence. Mr. Finlay,
and one of his friends, caded upon us in the course
of the day, and the whole famdy in the Castle have
been envying me the treat I must have had in the
cottage of the fishermen.
In the course of a few days I shaU proceed towards
Inverary.
D. W.
Not the least amusing part of this letter is that
which represents the distinguished Dr. Chalmers re
straining himself from reading the inimitable tale of
Old Mortality. There was for a time a hue and
cry sounded in the north, that the Cameronian en
thusiasts were caricatured and held up to ridicule
in the persons of John Balfour, of Burley, Habakkuk
MuckleAvrath, and Gabriel Kettledrummle ; and tins
perhaps made the Doctor reluctant to oavti intimacy
with a work where the malignant Claverhouse, the lati-
tudinarian Henry Morton, and the profane Bothwell
moved and acted amongst those children of light.

TO MISS WILKIE.
Kames Castle, 15th Aug. 1817.
I have since my visit here met with one of
those sort of beggars that must have sat as the original
for old Edie Ochiltree. He is knoAvn by the name of
Old Macgregor. He comes from Crieff, and compre
hends Avithin the circle of his perambulation the whole
width of Scotland, from Craill, in Fifeshire, to the
Mull of Cantyre. His dress is singular : he speaks

iET. 32. SIR DAVID WTLKIE. 469
both GaeUc and English, and seems a most com
plete character. He makes people believe that ho
does them an honour Avhen he takes a night's quarters
with them, and I Avas told he is never satisfied unless
they make tea for him. He gives, hoAvever, a very
good character of himself, and his sort of conversation,
while I AA-as draAAing his likeness, was exceedingly
characteristic and amusing.
Yesterday Mr. Finlay took me across the water
Avith him in his boat to a part of Argyleshire, caUed
CouU. He went to fish for trout, and I to see the
people. I was told that the weaver of the place hved
at some httle distance, in a cottage that, from its ex
terior, looked Aery promising. We therefore made up
to it. We found the weaver, who had a cottage that
struck me as the finest I had seen, and a daughter, as
we thought. A'ery beautiful. I made a sketch of the
daughter, Avho Avith difficulty we got to sit, and with
greater difficulty got to take off an English cap she
had on, which we thought took from her simplicity,
and which Mr. Finlay was quite sure she had put on
after we entered the house. She complained that her
hair wa> so touzie ; but there was something exceed
ingly modest in her manner, and her figure and face
Avere certainly handsome. We returned before night
to Kames after a very tempestuous crossing in the
boat, and a pretty good ducking, Avhich, hoAvever, has
done neither of us any harm.
I have had A'arious letters sent after me to different
gentlemen in the Highlands, and, amongst others, one
for the Duke of Atholl, at Dunkdd. I Avrote to Mr;
Walter Scott from Edinburgh, and have had a most

470 THE LLFE OF 1817.
kind answer, giving me various directions about what
is to be seen, and inAdting me to come for a few days
to see him at Abbotsford, where he says he AviU teU
me some old stories, and show me some interesting
ruins in his neighbourhood.
I hope my mother continues as weU as usual, and
that you pay every attention to her, in taking her
out to walk. D.W.
Wherever Wilkie went, he looked around him Avith
an artist's eye, and felt with a Scotsman's heart; for
he loved the hiUs, the streams, the vales, and the peo
ple; he took sketches of picturesque places, wUd
cottages of turf and Ung, and of vdld inhabitants
with warm hearts, and, as the maiden of the last let
ter observed, touzie locks. He found the genius of
his distinguished friend Scott everywhere triumphant ;
he read his strains in every hill and mountain, and
saw his heroes and heroines in the plaided and kdted
shepherds and maids of the pastoral regions of the
north ; he found, as we have seen, an Edie Ochdtree
in a Macgregor.

TO DAVID WILKIE, ESQ.
My dear Sir, Abbotsford, near Melrose, 2d Aug. 1817.
I learn with great pleasure from your letter
just received, that you have revisited your native
country. I cannot, now-a-days, pretend to point out
any good Highland originals, to be rendered immortal

.Et.32. SIR DAVTD WTLKIE. 471
on your canvas, for the old Forty-Five men, of Avhom
I knew many in the days of yore, are noAV gathered
to their fathers. But I am sure you avUI be gratified
by the scenery which time cannot make any impres
sion upon. Pray do not omit to visit the head of
Loch Awe, wddch I look upon as equal to any thing
in the Highlands. There is some curious scenery near
AberfoU, in Perthshire, particularly a waterfaU at
Ledeard, at the top of Loch Hard, within an hour's
walk of the inn, which, from its size and accompani
ments, I should think particularly qualified to fiU up
a Highland landscape. I neA'er saw any thing which
I admired so much : the height is not remarkable, but
the accompaniments are exquisitely beautiful. In a
different style, and at no great distance, is an island
caUed Inchmahome, which has some ruins of a mo
nastery surrounded by huge chestnut trees, very strik-
ino*, though looking of no importance from the shore.
To mention minute information of this kind would
exhaust your patience ; but there is no corner of the
romantic region, in which this letter will find you,
which may not present something worth your look
ing at. I hope, on your return, that you wid pay
me a Aisit. I have my hand in the mortar-tub, but I
have a chamber in the Avail for you, besides a most
hearty welcome. I have also one or two old jockies
with one foot in the grave, and know of a herd's hut
or two tottering to the faU, which you will find pic
turesque. Of scenery we can boast but Uttle ; the
best we have to say of ours is, that it is simple,
pleasing, and pastoral. I am labouring to produce
landscapes to please some future generation, by plant-
h h 4

472 THE LLFE OF 1817.
ing as busily as I can, and I would be most happy to
have your advice and opinion. If you dehght in old
stories and fields of battles, there are plenty to be
had ; and I must add, that we are within three miles
of Melrose Abbey, and I AviU be happy to be shoAvman
over these beautiful remnants of architecture. A
coach passes three times a week within a mile of my
door ; it is called the Blucher, and tickets are issued
at the Black BuU, Leith Walk ; its destination is Mel
rose and Jedburgh, but my guests stop at the turn-
puke gate at the end of Melrose bridge, where I vdU
meet you, if you will let me know when I am to have
the pleasure of expecting you. I am almost never
from home.
Let me add my wishes for good weather and a plea
sant expedition. I would offer you letters of intro
duction, but you bear them in your own high and
deserved reputation, nor can I think of a mode of
transmitting them. Believe me, dear Sir,
Most truly yours,
Walter Scott.

TO THOMAS WILKIE.
My dear Brother, Inverary, 21st August, 1817.
Saturday being one of the days on which the
steam-boat passes Rothsay to go to Inverary, I left
Mr. Finlay to resume my journey, after being highly
gratified with the hospitable treatment I had received
from him and from his family. The first part of our

Mt.32. SIR DAVID AVILKIE. 473
saU was delightful. We passed through the Kyles of
Bute to the mouth of Loch Ridden, where Ave Avere
closed in by the most, beautiful scenery, which ex
tended inland to the romantic hdls of Glendereule.
We left this to keep our course round the island of
Bute tiU we came to the mouth of Loch Fine, and
graduaUy began to feel our approach to Inverary, by
its setting in a very heavy night of rain. YVe could
make nothing more of the fine scenery, and Avere only
caUed out to see some resort of the herring-fishers,
some hall of the Campbells, or the house of Lauchlan
M'Lauchlan, of Strath-Lauchlan, near Castle Lauch
lan. As it got towards dark we began to see the
hills about Inverary, with the beautifully-wooded
Dunaquoich that overhangs the castle. As we got up
to the quav it was quite dark, and I think it gained
much from the obscurity. The town seemed much
larger ; and what one could not see of the houses, was
filled up in a finer way by the imagination than after
wards bv reahty. The first house that arrested atten
tion had three large doors, grated over, Avith people
inside ; this we found to be the county prison of Ar-
<ryle. YTien we got to the inn, I Avas struck with an
appearance of grandeur that it had, so unusual in
Scottish inns. It put me in mind of some of the inns
of Ghent and Antwerp: the rooms were large and
numerous; and what surprised me more than any
thing, they were crowded with visiters. The day after,
my iUusions about the toAvn Avere considerably dissi
pated ; it dAvindled into a httle new-fashioned, modern
upstart of a Scottish town. The houses have an ap
pearance of regularity, as if they had been built by

474 THE LLFE OF 1817.
contract. The great bustle at the inn was occasioned
by our OAvn entrance ; for at any other time when the
steam-boat passengers are gone, it assumes the ap
pearance of a forsaken BrideweU.
I brought here a letter with me to Captain Archi
bald CampbeU, who is Chamberlain to the Duke of
Argyle ; I went to his country house to dehver it, and
received a true Highland welcome. He has a fandly
of four daughters with him, who are very accom
plished ; and though they are Highland ladies, and as
one would think in a retired situation, they are not
behind the London people in any thing. There is very
genteel society in Inverary. The castle itself is a
complete importation, and disappointed me much ;
I expected a Highland residence, in place of which
it is Bond Street or Brighton, both within and
without, and has nothing in it at aU belonging to the
Highlands, the situation and country adjoining ex
cepted. I left Inverary to come down Loch Fine to visit
Mr. Macneill, of Oakfield. On my way to the quay
I heard a bagpipe sounding through the town, which
I was told was the piper of the boat going round
to waken the passengers. The day was just breaking,
and the weather mild, and beautifully clear. The
sound of the bagpipe had a most national and romantic
effect. The piper was foUowed by an immense crowd
of peqple — a motley crew of Highland shearers come
from the Hebrides, to the amount of tAvo hundred
persons, on their way to the Low Country harvest.
When they came to the boat, they had aU to undergo
the ceremony of paying their fare before entering.

Mt.32. SIR DAVTD AVILKIE. 475
Their passage from this to GlasgoAV (one hundred and
ten mUes) Avas tAvo shUlings, according to an agree
ment made with them ; but I Avas told that some had
chosen to walk rather than pay the sum. The crowd,
when they got on board, was immense ; and in order
to render the boat safe, great care Avas taken to seat
them so as to produce the best equidbrium. The
Highlanders soon began to find out amusements for
themseh-es ; one of them got hold of the bagpipe and
paraded the deck with it in great majesty, whUe a
group of them in another place were occupied in
singing a GaeUc cronach, which I thought a very
interesting sort of music : it was wild and simple. In
the steerage cabin another multitude was assembled,
and one who had a fiddle Avith him, and who played
very id, gave them reels and strathspeys, to which
several danced with great spirit and alacrity. These
amusements continued tUl I left them at Loch Gilp-
head on Loch Fine.
On landing I found Mr. MacneiU of Oakfield wait
ing for me, and I had a most kind reception from
him. The house is full of company. He has taken
great pains to show me the people and their houses in
this neighbourhood. Among other things, he has got
me a whisky-still to make a study from. It is a
legalised one, in excellent order, very smaU, and the
house where it is very picturesque. The men who
keep the stUl cannot speak Enghsh, and the only in
terpreter I had was a breekless halflin, who attended
me to carry colours. The young people are almost
the only wearers of the kilt. The bonnet has gone
entirely out of fashion, and it is only on a Sunday

476 THE LLFE OF 1817.
they are ever seen in their fuU uniform, and then it
is only the great beaux and smart feUows that wear
them. D.W.
From the study the artist made of the whisky-
stiU which the hospitable laird of Oakfield procured
for him, sprung that beautiful picture of the same
name which some years afterwards appeared in the
London Exhibition. Indeed, the sights he saw, and
the strange faces which he met, had long an influence
on his studies, and were Aisible in his pictures.

TO MISS WILKIE.
Trosachs, 31st Aug. 1817.
I started again with my gig, and passed along
the banks of Loch Lomond to Luss. I could not see
much of the scenery, as it was getting dark ; but there
is something dehghtful to me in this tAvilight traA'el-
ling. The continued murmuring of the Lake, Avith
its wooded islands, the dark purple mountains, and a
straw cottage, Avith an occasional hght beaming
through its Avindow, give a degree of beauty and
cheerfulness to a scene of a common-place kind by
the Ught of day. With respect to Loch Lomond,
hoAvever, it can disappoint no one. Every thing about
it is magnificent. The hdls are large ; Ben Lomond
tremendous. He fills Avith his base an immense ter
ritory, and is opposed on the other side by Ben Voir-
lich and the Cobbler Mountain, all of them crowding

Mt.S2. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 477
so much upon one another, that they seem to leave
no space for the Lake to intersect them. D.W.
Here the fine scenery came between the painter
and the people, Avho are but thinly scattered among
the picturesque regions where Scott has mustered his
clans, and sent them forth — " AU plaided and plum'd
in their tartan array." The social aspect of man
WUkie loved more than the sa\-age aspect of nature,
and he made much of this tour rather in obedience
to the counsels of Scott, than from a desire of his
own to see heathery mountains and rocky glens.
From these causes, perhaps, there are less of Scottish
manners than we could have Avished in one or more of
his letters from the Highland line.

TO MISS WTLKIE.
Blair Athol, 11th Sept. 1817.
At Stirling I arrived too late for the Perth coach,
but at such a place it Avas no hard matter to find
amusement. I went up to the Castle, and, after seeing
every thing that is commonly shoAvn to strangers, I
began making some draAvings of the Palace and Par
hament House, which have been very fine buildings.
In doing this I chanced to attract the attention of
General Graham, the governor, who was kind enough
to ask me into his house, to look at some of the apart
ments that Avere very ancient and curious. On going
into the drawing-room I was presented to Mrs. Gra-

478 THE LIFE OF 1817.
ham, an accomphshed and clever woman; and, al
though I was an entire stranger to both, they were so
kind as to ask me to dine with them. This I was
obhged to decline; but on my teUing them who I was,
and that I was acquainted Avith some of Mrs. Gra
ham's relations, the General insisted on my portman
teau being sent for, and on my stopping with them in
the Castle for some days. This I was prevaded on to
do ; and it is right to say, that I have received more
kindness and marks of friendship from them than
almost from any one I have met in Scotland. General
Graham devoted his whole time to me whde I stayed,
and took me to see every thing that was worth seeing
about the place. We Avent over the field of Bannock-
burn, and to a place caUed Beattie's MiU, where one
of the James's of Scotland was kiUed. I was taken
as well to see a blind man who can repeat aU the
Bible by heart, and who has every chapter and verse
completely at his fingers' ends. Read a verse, how
ever short or unimportant, he can tell you at once
where it is. Mr. Dugald Stewart was the first I
heard mention this man, and my wonder has rather
been increased than diminished by meeting with him.
I left General Graham after being three days at
Stirling, and after being pressed very much to stop
longer with him. From Perth I went on to Dun-
keld, where I found that the Duke of AthoU, to whom
I had a letter, was at Blair. To Blair, accordingly, I
hastened on ; and by a most romantic road I came to
the pass of Killiecrankie, where Claverhouse lost his
life in the moment of victory, and on to the Bridge
of Tilt, where I got a bed for the night. Next morn-

Mt.32. SrR DAVID WILKLE. 479
ing I made the best of my way to the Duke's house,
sent up my letter, and Avas admitted to the Duke and
famdy at the breakfast-table. As the Duke was going
out to hunt the deer, he gaA'e directions that I should
be shown about through the day, while the Duchess
sent a servant for my luggage, and I was shown to a
room assigned me in one of the stately wings of the
house. In the course of the day I was surprised to
find in the slaughter-house a man skinning a red
deer of immense size, which the Duke had newly shot,
and which had just been brought from the hdls by
an old maniac with a bonnet and kdt, who is em
ployed to bring them doAvn on horseback. Next day
several horses and a cart were sent to bring others
from the forest ; and when the old Highland maniac
arrived with them, the whole formed the most pictu
resque scene imaginable. There was one stag on
each of the two horses, and three in a cart. They
looked exceedingly beautiful ; but I could perceive it
was a load the horses did not hke at ad, and when
they got them off they shook themselves heartily, and
went and roded on the grass. I began to make a
sketch in od of one of the dead deer, vdth some of
the gamekeepers about it, who have aU got Hits, and
are very picturesque characters.
Amongst, other objects here that indicate its being
a Highland territory, is the piper. This is a famous
personage. He has got the complete uniform of his
order (a Hit and plaid), is a fine-looHng feUow, and
a most obUging good-natured man as can be. He
plays regularly for half an hour before breakfast and
dinner, arid walks with stately majesty before the

480 THE LDTE OF 1817.
house. I have made a sketch of him in a group which
he seems highly pleased with. D. W.
From these visitings to the palaces and castles of
old Caledonia, nothing to which the painter lent the
charm of his colours has appeared ; nor has the AthoU
deer, which he limned with his pencil as it lay bleed
ing among the brakes, found its way into any of his
compositions. TO THOMAS WILKIE.
Edinburgh, 13th Oct. 1817.
I left Cupar more than a week ago. I stopped
to see my grandmother again at Pitlessie, from thence
came to Kirkcaldy. I was a day with Mr. Fergus,
and part of a day vdth Mrs. Ferguson, of Raith, both
of whom treated me -with great kindness.
Lord and Lady Leven have been very Hnd. In
the house at LesUe there are a great number of pic
tures ; one a very fine one of the Earl of Rothes, by
Sir Joshua Reynolds. .
To-morrow I set off for Melrose, to visit Mr. Walter
Scott, with whom I expect to be much pleased. I
may stop there some days, and most hkely from.
thence avUI proceed to London.
D. W.
At Abbotsford WUlde arrived in the middle of Oc
tober. On the pastoral beauty of Tweedside, the
romantic loveliness of the great poet's dwelUng, Avhich

Mt.32. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 481
had arisen hke an exhalation from the ground, at a
Avave ofthe magician's wand, and ofthe elegance and
variety of his daily hfe, the painter loved to speak.
But nothing astonished him more than the care with
which all that Scott did was accomphshed : he seemed
the least busy person in the place, yet at that time
romance foUowed romance with marvellous rapidity
from his pen. There, too, he met the Ettrick Shep
herd, and Aisited him in his abode on the Yarrow ;
and there he met, too, with Sd Adam Ferguson,
whose social humour years haA'e yet faded to abate.
TO MISS WTLKLE. Abbotsford, 30th Oct. 1817.
Since my arrival here I made a journey up the
Yarrow with Mr. Scott's friend, Mr. Laidlaw, and saw
the Rca'. Dr. RusseU, who desired most particularly
to be remembered to my mother. He seemed very
happy to see me, and dehghted to talk over many old
stories. On coming down from Yarrow I went to
meet Mr. and Mrs. Scott, at the Duke of Buccleuch's,
at BowhUl. Mr. Scott introduced me to the Duke
and his fandly, and as it was a day on which there
Avas to be a great cattle-show, there was a large as
semblage of people at the place, and an immense
number invited to dinner. The dinner was given
quite in the ancient style of Border conviviahty.
Mr. Scott presided at a by -table in the principal room,
at wMch the BaUantynes, Hogg the poet, and some
others, besides myself, were present. This gave oc
casion to our being toasted as the Table of the Talents,
VOL. I. ii

482 THE LIFE OF 1817.
which made some merriment. The company sat tdl
two o'clock. There was a great variety of songs, and
before parting the gentlemen were so enthusiastic Avith
music and with claret, that the song of Weel may we
a' be was sung no less than five times, and God save
the King about four times in full cry. I never saw
such a flow of conviviahty and Mgh spirits, and at the
same time the greatest good-humour.
I have been maHng a Uttle group whUe here of
Mr. Scott, Mrs. Scott, and all the famUy, Avith Captain
Ferguson, and some other characters. They are so
pleased with it that it has been taken to the Duke of
Buccleuch's, when a request was made that I would
paint a picture of the same kind of the Duke; but as
this was going out of my line entirely, I felt it ne
cessary to decdne it. I have got a good way on with
the picture : the Misses Scott are dressed as country
girls, with pads as if they had come from milking :
Mr. Scott as if teUing a story : and in one corner I
have put in a great dog of the Highland breed, a pre
sent to Mr. Scott from the Laird of Glengary. In the
back-ground the top ofthe Cowdenknowes, the Tweed,
and Melrose (as seen from a hiU close by) are to be
introduced. I am not tp bring the picture to town,
as Mr. Scott wishes to show it to his mother, but he
is to send it to me. I have never been in any place
where there is so much real good-humour and merri
ment. There is nothing but amusement from morn
ing till night; and if Mr. Scott is really writing "Rob
Roy," it must be while we are sleeping. He is either
out planting trees, superintending the masons, or
erecting fences, the Avhole of the day. He goes fre-

Mr. 32. SIR DAVTD WILKES. 483
quently out hunting, and this morning there Avas a
whole cavalcade of us out with Mr. and Miss Scott,
hunting hares.
The fandly here are equaUy in the dark about
whether Mr. Scott is the author of the Novels. They
are quite perplexed about it : they hope he is the
author, and would be greatly mortified if it were to
turn out that he was not. He has frequently talked
about the different characters himself to us, and the
young ladies express themselves greatly provoked
Avith the sort of unconcern he affects towards them.
He has denied the Novels, however, to various people
that I know; and though the fandly used to tease
him at first about them, yet they dare not do it now.
D.W.
I have said that WilHe visited the Ettrick Shepherd
during his abode at Abbotsford. My friend WiUiam
Laidlaw, a man of poetic talents inferior to few in the
North, has kindly supphed me Avith an account of that
Aisit, which avUI be read Avith interest by all — and
they are many — who love to know what passes when
distinguished men meet.
" One day," says Laidlaw, " Sir Walter Scott told
me that WilHe, whom I knew and loved, wished to
go up the Yarrow to see Hogg, and that probably I
would have no objection to be his guide, and procure
him a night's lodging, for the Ettrick Shepherd at
that time Uved in a small cottage. Besides the satis
faction of accompanying WilHe, I had many friends
and relations in that district, whom I wished to see.
We left Abbotsford one fine harvest morning, and
n 2

484 THE LIFE OF 1817.
passed through Selkirk; the battle-field of PhUip-
haugh ; passed Bowhill and Newark tower, and Hang
ing Shaw, Avith its fine woods of ash and oak and
birch, contrasting strongly with the sombre pines of
Bowhdl. Willde's fine eye for the picturesque, and
his feehng for the beautiful, were aroused and in
terested. AU connected with the locahty, of that
nature, I pointed out to his notice, intermixed vdth
tales of by-gone times. He loved to trace the steps
of Scott, both in life and in story. He regarded vdth
interest the fine green hills at Ashesteil, over which
he rode to go coursing the hare, his favourite sport;
and he listened complacently when I described some
of the feats of a fine greyhound of mine, the father
of Sir Walter's far-famed greyhounds, Douglas and
Percy. When we came nigh the manse of Yarrow,
Wilkie said that the minister was an old friend of
his father's, and an acquaintance of his own. As the
Avorthy minister was likewise a friend of mine, we
called at the manse. The minister of Yarrow received
him most cordiaUy. ' Mr. David,' said he, ' I rejoice
to see you, both for your father's sake and your own.
You have made your name heard of — your fame has
gone before you, and I am proud to have the honour
of congratulating you on the talents with which
God has endowed you, which have carried you to a
high station in your art.' Wilkie had made up his
mind to sleep at the manse; but the minister, ima
gining that he was invited to dine and stay all night
Adth me at Whitehope, refrained from asking him;
and this I saAv hurt his feehngs, for though of a
modest and even bashful nature, he had pride Avith it,

-Et.32. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 485
and felt what he thought a slight. Our reception at
Whitehope, however, soon made Wilkie forget the
manse. " Next morning avc had a pleasant, drive to Altrive,
where Ave found my old friend Hogg at home, and
exulting not a httle from a flattering letter he had
receiA-ed from Blackwood, to AA'hom he had sent his
Chaldee manuscript. The cottage Avhich Hogg at that
time inhabited had been the but and ben of the former
tenant, and he dwelt in the kitchen, for it was the
preferable part : but the Htchen was large and roomy,
and better hghted than such abodes used to be then,
and was moreover wonderfully clean. The kettle was
hanging over a cheerful peat-fire, and soon began to
simmer; and James, then a bachelor, dispatched a
shepherdess to borrow some loaf-bread, to which she
added some kneaded cake. I felt pleased at the
comfort the poet, as he was commonly caUed, had
around him ; and having several times accompanied
WilHe among the cottages of Gattonside and Darnick
in search of the picturesque, I began to point out
what I thought might amuse him Avhile Hogg busied
himself preparing breakfast. The poet on this began
to look and hsten : I had not introduced Wilkie as an
artist ; and it is probable he had taken him, as he did
a great poet, for a horse-couper : he however turned
suddenly to me, exclaiming ' Laidkiw ! this is no' the
great Mr. WilHe?' ' It's just the great Mr. Willde,
Hogg,' I rephed. ' Mr. Wilkie,' exclaimed the Shep
herd, seizing him by the hand, ' I cannot tell how
proud I am to see you in my house, and how glad I
am to see you are so young a man.' I was delighted
n 3

486 THE LIFE OF 1817.
with the natural readiness and fine compUment of
my friend, and pleased Avith the breakfast, which was
noAV ready. We had, I remember, rizzart trouts —
yellow fins, as Hogg used to caU them — from the
Yarrow, and a fry of parrs from Douglas burn, the
most delicious of aU fish, thousands of which Hogg
and I in our youthful days had caught together in
that mountain burn, almost the native stream of
both. After breaHast we visited together the tower
of Dryhope, had a beautiful view of St. Mary's Loch
and ' those hiUs whence classic Yarrow flows,' and
returned to Abbotsford. When I told Scott of Hogg's
reception of WUkie, ' The feUow ! ' said he, ' it was
the finest compliment ever paid to man ! ' "
To the account of The Abbotsford Fandly pic
ture, which WUkie gives in his letter to his sister,
let me add the description written by Sir Walter
himself. " This picture," says Scott, " has something in it of
a domestic character. The idea which our inimitable
WilHe adopted was to represent our famUy group in
the garb of south-country peasants, supposed to be
concerting a merry-making, for which some of the
preparations are seen. The place is the terrace near
Kayside, commanding an extensive view towards the
Eildon hUls. 1. The sitting figure, in the dress of a
miller, I believe represents Sir Walter Scott, author
of a few score of volumes, and proprietor of Abbots
ford, in the county of Roxburgh. 2. In front, and
presenting, we may suppose, a country wag, some
what addicted to poaching, stands Sir Adam Fer
guson, knight, keeper of the Regalia of Scotland.

Mt.32. SIR DAVID WILKIE. 487
3. In the back-ground is a very handsome old man,
upwards of eighty-four years old at the time, painted
in his own character of a shepherd. He also belonged
to the numerous clan of Scott. He used to claim
credit for three things unusual among the Southland
shepherds — first, that he had never been Jbu in the
course of his life ; secondly, he never had struck a
man in anger ; thirdly, that though entrusted by his
master AAith the management of large sales of stock,
he had never lost a penny for his master by a bad
debt. He died soon afterwards at Abbotsford.
4, 5, 6. Of the three female figures, the elder is the late
regretted mother of the fandly represented. 5. The
young person most forward in the group is Miss
Sophia Charlotte Scott, now Mrs. John Gibson Lock
hart; and 6. her younger sister, Miss Ann Scott.
Both are represented as ewe-milkers, with their
leglins, or milk-pails. 7. On the left hand of the
shepherd, the young man holding a fowhng-piece
is the eldest son of Sir Walter, now Captain in the
King's Hussars. 8. The boy is the youngest of the
family, Charles Scott, now of Brazen Nose CoUege,
Oxford. The two dogs were distinguished favourites
of the famUy; the large one was a stag-hound of the
old Highland breed, called Maida, and one of the
handsomest dogs that could be found ; it was a pre
sent from the Chief of Glengary to Sir Walter, and
was highly valued, both on account of his beauty, his
fideUty, and the great rarity of the breed. The other
is a Uttle Highland terrier, caUed Ourisk (gobUn), of
a particular Hnd, bred in Kintail. It was a present
from the Honourable Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie, and

488 THE LIFE OF 1817.
is a valuable specimen of a race which is now also
scarce." " There is a story about old Thomas Scott, the shep
herd, which is characteristic. Tom was, both as a
trusted servant, and as a rich feUow in his Une, a
person of considerable importance among his class in
the neighbourhood, and used to sticHe a good deal to
keep his place in pubhc opinion. Now, he suffered,
in his own idea at least, from the consequence
assumed by a country neighbour, who, though neither
so wed reputed for wealth or sagacity as Thomas
Scott, had yet an advantage over him, from having
seen the late King, and used to take precedence upon
all occasions when they chanced to meet. Thomas
suffered under this superiority. But after this sketch
was finished and exhibited in London, the newspapers
made it knoAvn that his present Majesty had conde
scended to take some notice of it. DeUghted with
this circumstance Thomas Scott set out on a most
oppressively hot day, to walk five mUes to Bowden,
where his rival resided. He had no sooner entered
the cottage than he called out, in his broad forest
dialect — 'Andro, man! did ye anes sey (see) the
King?' 'In troth did I, Tam,' answered Andro;
' sit down, and I'll teU ye a' about it : ye sey, I was
at Lonon, in a place they ca' the Park, that is no
like a hained hog-fence, or hke the four-nooked parks
in this country  ! ' ' Hout awra',' said Thomas,
' I have heard a' that before : I only came o'er the
knowe to ted you, that if you have seen the King, the
King has seen mey (me).' And so he returned with

.2Et.32. SIR DAA'ID WILIQE. 481)
a jocund heart, assuring his friends ' it had done
him mucHe gude to settle accounts Avi' Andro.'" *
* Not long after my departure from Abbotsford, my friend AVilkie
arrived there to point a picture ofthe Scott family. He found the house
full of guests. Scott's whole time was taken up in riding and driving about
the country, or in social conversation at home. " All this time," said
Wilkie to me, " I did not presume to ask Mr. Scott to sit for his portrait,
for I saw he had not a moment to spare. I waited for the guests to go
away ; but as fast as one set went another arrived, and so it con
tinued for several days ; and with each set he was completely occupied.
At length all went off, and we were quiet. I thought, however, —
Mr. Seott will now shut himself up among his books and papers, for he
has to make up for lost time : it won't do for me to ask him now to sit
for his picture. Laidlaw, who managed his estate, came in ; and Scott
turned to him, as I supposed, to consult about business. ' Laidlaw,'
said he, ' to-morrow morning we will go across the water, and take the
dogs with us : there's a place where I think we shall be able to find a
hare.' " In short," added Wilkie, "I found that, instead of business, he was
thinking only of amusement, as if he had nothing in the world to occupy
him. So I no longer feared to intrude upon his time." — Abbotsford and
Newstead Abbey, by Washington Irving, p. 113.

END OF THE FHJST VOLUME.

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and Charles Landseer, William Simson, and Edward Cooke, &c.
Royal 8vo. Uniform with the "Art of Deer Stalking."
VI.
HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE. By the late Thomas Hope, Esq. AVith
nearly 100 Plates, and an Index. Third Edition. 2 vols, royal 8vo, 40s.
VII.
GOETHE'S THEORY OF COLOURS. Translated from the German ;
and edited, with Notes, by Charles Locke Eastlake, Esq. R.A. Plates.
8vo, 12s. VIII.
HISTORY OF PAINTING— ITALY. From the Age of Constantine the
Great to the present time. From the German of Kugler. By a Lady ;
and edited, with Notes, by Charles Locke Eastlake, Esq. R. A. Post
8vo, 12s.
" This Work is intended to supply a want long felt by persons endeavouring to acquire a
knowledge ofthe Early History and Progress of the Art of Painting, which no othefEnglish
work supplies, viz. a short and easily intelligible guide, pointing out to the unlearned the
leading styles of Art." — Editor's Preface.
IX.
HANDBOOK TO THE PUBLIC GALLERIES OF ART IN AND
NEAR LONDON.
containing
The National Gallery. Windsor Castle. Hampton Court. Dulwich Gallery.
Mr. Soane's Museum. Barry's Pictures. AVitli Catalogues of the Pictures,
and Historical and Biographical Notices. By Mas. Jameson. 2 vols, post
Svo, 18s.

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

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