I approach the end of my endeavour to show my ill.u.s.trious friend in his true colours, with sad feelings, grievously increased by the conviction that under happier circ.u.mstances he might have been the delight of all who did--and did not--know him for many years beyond the time so cruelly shortened. The letter to a friend which follows--written at Kensington after his return from Whitby--gives us in his own melancholy words a sad account of his condition.
"6, The Terrace, Kensington,
"October 6, 1864.
"MY DEAR ----,
"I received your most kind note last night on my return from Whitby in Yorkshire, where I have been with my family since I came from Germany; and I a.s.sure you I have so many things to put in order, that to go away from my work would be impossible just now. I was amused with Homburg, and to some extent I think the waters did me some good; but I am sorry to say I can give but a sorry account of my health. Nothing seems to quiet my nervous system, and I suffer still from sleeplessness dreadfully. Alas for Sheldrake! Why, I could not ride him if I had him; anything out of a walk would bring on a spasm that would occasion me to drop from his back. I trust I may be able to ride some time yet, but do not see my way. As for shooting, you would see me disappear amongst the turnips in about five minutes from exhaustion. But, however, I look forward with hope, and with a will, shall try and make myself a better man; and I am not yet incapable, thank G.o.d, to enjoy the society of a friend, and hope you will find me out--no, not out, but at home--should you come to London this autumn or winter. You must see a pantomime, you know. I have one great consolation--that the air of Yorkshire did my wife and children great good; and hoping that you and all your kind relations at ... are well,
"Believe me,
"Yours faithfully,
"JOHN LEECH."
CHAPTER XXIV.
MILLAIS AND LEECH.
The way to a certain place is said to be paved with good intentions. If that be so, a large s.p.a.ce in the pavement must be filled by intentions to write the life of Leech. In the Dean of Rochester--the intimate friend of the artist when known as the Rev. Reynolds Hole--the intention still exists, as I gather from a letter received from him in reply to my appeal for a.s.sistance. The Dean tells me he possesses "above a hundred letters" by Leech--one and all denied to me--barred by the "intention,"
which seems to have come to life again, after being resigned by him many years ago in favour of Dr. John Brown; who in his turn relegated his intention to its place in the pavement.
I think it was about the year 1882 that, when calling on my old friend Sir John Millais, I was introduced to a Mr. Evans, who was presented to me as a literary man engaged in writing the life of Leech--a stranger to Millais in quest of information. Though I felt that Millais, in the genial and hearty way peculiar to him, over-estimated the importance of my a.s.sistance in his advice to Mr. Evans to tax my memory, "and he would find the tax paid in full," I promised to try to remember something of interest, and communicate with him further. The result of the "taxation"
was a paper, which I sent to the address given to me at Manchester.
Years pa.s.sed, and as I heard nothing I concluded that the Evans life was abandoned, and thought no more of the matter. Alas! events proved that the Evans intention was destined to take its place amongst the others, for the promoter died; but not till he had collected a quant.i.ty of material, to which I have been greatly indebted in writing this memoir.
After my interview with Mr. Evans at Millais", I never saw or heard from him, except in acknowledgment of my contribution; and it is strange to me, that with every requisite for the carrying out of the intention, into which, judging from his manner, he entered enthusiastically and lovingly, he should have made such little way with it--probably from ill-health--when the material fell into the hands of Messrs. Bentley, and from theirs into mine.
Amongst the papers I found the following from Sir John Millais, of all the friends of Leech one of the dearest, the most loving and steadfast, and the best able to appreciate his qualities as an artist and a man. In a letter to Mr. Evans--February, 1882--Millais says:
"I knew John Leech intimately, and I think saw more of him than any other of his friends. He was one of the very best gentlemen I ever knew, with an astounding appreciation of everything sad or humorous. He was both manly and gentle, nervous and brave, and the most delightful companion that ever lived. I loved John Leech (and another who is also gone) better than any other friends I have known."
In a further communication, Sir John says:
"I will endeavour to find some letters which may be of interest.
Unfortunately, I have given most of them away at the time I received them, many containing sketches; I cannot remember now where they are. I am sure I had more than anyone, as I was for years his daily companion.
There is another friend of his--Percival Leigh, attached to _Punch_--whom you do not mention. You should see him, as he could give you a great deal of information. Mr. Adams was a hunting friend, and many times Leech and myself stayed with him. Mr. Parry was the master of the Puckeridge hounds, and most of the hunting sketches were the upshot of scenes in Hertfordshire.
"Leech stayed with me twice in Scotland, and out of those visits came Mr. Briggs"s exploits in deer-stalking, salmon-fishing, and grouse-shooting.
"The late Duke of Athole asked him to Blair, and took him for a deer-drive. Previously to that there had been a good deal written in the papers against the Duke, in consequence of his Grace having stopped two University men from crossing the forest; and Leech made a drawing in _Punch_ by no means complimentary of the Duke, who was represented turning back the tourists, exclaiming, "I am the regular Do-Dhu." But you must turn to _Punch_, and you will find the ill.u.s.tration for yourself. I speak from memory as to the exact words; but I well recollect Leech, in his jocose way, asking me whether I thought he would be safe in the Duke"s hands after that squib. I afterwards heard his Grace was delighted with it, and carried the woodcut about in his pocket to show to his friends.
"I have seen Leech make his first sketch (of which I have specimens), and trace them on to the block, scores of times. The first was rapid; but on the wood he was very deliberate, knowing how necessary clearness of execution is to the engraver.
"The late Mr. Trelawney--the intimate friend of Byron and Sh.e.l.ley--speaking one day to me of his recollections, said that Sh.e.l.ley and Leech were the two men he had loved best, and that he cared to know me only because I was a great friend of the man he admired so much."
Here I may interpose to remind my readers that the figure of the sailor in Millais" superb picture of the North-West Pa.s.sage was painted from Trelawney, who is supposed to say, "It should be done, and England must do it." The man"s head, painted with all Millais" power, is a most perfect likeness of Sh.e.l.ley"s friend.
Millais goes on to tell us that "some of the happiest days we spent together were at the Peac.o.c.k Inn at Baslow, in Derbyshire, close to Chatsworth, where every kindness was shown to Leech by the Duke and Sir Joseph Paxton--shooting, fishing, and cricketing."
I again interpose to say that the portrait given as frontispiece to this volume was drawn on one of the "happy days" at the Peac.o.c.k Inn at Baslow.
"We played together in a match with a neighbouring village, and at a supper which he gave to the teams he sang "King Death" with becoming gravity, and was much entertained by the local amorous ditties sung by the young farmers."
In further advice to Mr. Evans, Sir John says:
"You cannot dwell too much on his tender anxiety for his wife and children, almost distressing at times to those about him."
The great painter continues:
"I should tell you that he was always careful in his dress, and always went to the best houses for everything he purchased, probably from having early in life discovered the wisdom of such a course--see his satire of everything shoddy--but chiefly from inherent good taste. His choice was so quiet that one only _felt_ he was perfectly attired. Leech was six feet high, slim, well but rather delicately made. Strangers felt when they were introduced to him that they were in the presence of a gentleman grave and courteous always, and a merry fellow when harmless fun was demanded. Like Landseer, he had the power of telling a story in the fewest words, and with astonishing effect upon his hearers; but as a rule he was averse to taking the initiative in conversation. He would sit placidly smoking his cigar in an easy-chair, and only chime in to cap what was said by some voluble speaker, and then retire again into the full enjoyment of his weed and silence."
In his evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons which was formed to inquire into the const.i.tution and working of the Royal Academy, with a view to certain changes in that body, Millais said that he thought Leech was deserving of full membership in the inst.i.tution, for, indeed, said he:
"Very few of us painters will leave behind us such good and valuable work as he has left--work which is in great part historical. His appreciation of the pathetic was as strong as his sense of the ridiculous, and you will never find a bit of false sentiment in anything he did."
Landseer is reported to have said--after expressing enthusiastic admiration of Leech"s genius--that the worst thing he ever did deserved to be framed and placed before students as an example for their emulation and improvement. Sir John Millais concludes his remarks upon his friend--remarks for which I am sure my readers will be as grateful as I am--by a few pathetic words heralding the sad and final scene:
"He became so nervous latterly that he used to take my arm when we were walking together, jerking it perceptibly at any sudden noise, or at any vehicle pa.s.sing rapidly near us; lingering an unnecessary time at the street crossings; and the morning he came from Thackeray"s house, on coming downstairs after seeing his dead friend, he said, "I also shall die suddenly."
"I arrived from a Continental tour," concludes Millais, "the day of his death, and by arrangement went immediately to his house to dine with him. His wife told me he had been asking for me; but I did not think it wise to disturb him then. A little later I returned, ran upstairs to his bedside, and found him dead."
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. H. O. NETHERCOTE AND JOHN LEECH.
For the following interesting paper my readers are indebted to Mr.
Nethercote, of Moulton Grange, Northamptonshire, who sent it to my predecessor, Mr. Evans, amongst whose Leech material I found it. As Mr.
Nethercote"s anecdotes were intended for publication, I reproduce them without alteration or abbreviation. Mr. Nethercote and Leech were at Charterhouse together.
"Leech," says his friend, "was the most popular boy in the school, and the margins of his grammars were a delight to boyish eyes. After leaving Charterhouse I lost sight of him for many years; but through the medium of our common friend Reynolds, now Canon Hole, we came together again when he was living in Brunswick Square, and we frequently met at each other"s houses. On one occasion, after telling me of his sufferings from street bands, he said:
""May I come to you with wife and family for a few days? I am dying of "Dixie"s Land.""
"He came, and the very first day after dinner, on taking our evening stroll round the garden, our ears were greeted with the hateful tune!
The village band had just mastered the homicidal air, and were inadvertently making themselves _particeps crimines_ in the murder of my friend. I shall never forget his delightful smile as, when the doleful tune burst upon our ears, he said:
""Ah, well! "Dixie"s Land" in Brunswick Square and "Dixie"s Land" at Moulton Grange are two very different tunes; in the latter case a mile of atmosphere intervenes between it and me, and in the former I was in the very bowels of it."
"He was fond of going to see a meet with hounds, but he was no rider. He once asked me to sell him a horse I was riding, on the ground of its apparent quietness. I declined doing this because it was not right in its wind.