His Precocious Talent—Studies Anatomy—Enters the Royal Academy Schools—Gains a "Travelling Studentship"—Elected a Royal Academician—Declines the Presidency—Introduced to Dickens—A Lifelong Friendship—"Master Humphrey's Clock"—Maclise Essays an Illustration—"The Chimes"—A Reading by Dickens and a Sketch by Maclise—His Original Drawings—"The Cricket on the Hearth"—An Unpublished Letter from Maclise—"The Battle of Life"—Dickens's Appreciation of Maclise's Illustrations—The Artist's Correspondence with Forster Respecting his Designs—His Anxiety Concerning the Engraving—An Indignant Letter—"Little Dirty Scratches"—Maclise Dispenses with the Living Model—Dickens's Relations with the Artist—A Memorable Trip—Picture of the Waterfall at St. Nighton's Cave—A Portrait of Dickens—An Interesting Pencil-Drawing—Death of "Grip"—The Raven Immortalised by Maclise—A Letter of Sympathy—The Artist's Declining Health—His Death a Severe Shock to Dickens—The Novelist's Tribute to his Memory.

Among a host of intimate friends, none was more beloved by Dickens than the warm-hearted Irish artist, Daniel Maclise, whose fine genius and handsome person charmed all who knew him. Maclise was the son of a Scotch soldier quartered at Cork, and was born in that city on January 25, 1811, being thus the novelist's senior by about a year. As a child he exhibited great facility in executing caricatures, and was soon enabled to support himself by the sale of his sketches. It was at first intended that he should adopt the surgical profession, with which object he studied anatomy under Dr. Woodroffe, but, like John Leech, he did not take kindly to the science of healing, preferring (as did Leech) the more congenial pursuit of Art. Accordingly, in 1827, Maclise entered the Royal Academy Schools, where he made such rapid progress, that two years later his work was admitted to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy. Although, in 1831, the fortunate young painter received the gold medal entitling him to the "Travelling Studentship," he elected to remain in England, having already visited Paris and studied at the Louvre and the Luxembourg. Achieving success after success as a painter of Shakesperian scenes, portraits, &c., he became an Associate of the Royal Academy in 1836, and attained full honours in 1840. In 1866 he was offered the Presidency, but, as did Sir Edwin Landseer during the previous year, he declined that distinction.

Master Humphrey's Clock, 1840-41.It was in the year of his election as Associate that Maclise was introduced by Forster to Charles Dickens, and we learn that the tastes and pursuits of the three friends were so congenial that thenceforth they were inseparable,—this affectionate intercourse being maintained without interruption for nearly thirty years. When, in 1840, Dickens contemplated the publication of "Master Humphrey's Clock," it was his intention to endeavour to secure the valuable co-operation of Maclise as an illustrator of that work, in conjunction with George Cattermole. Forster states that there seems to have been a desire on Maclise's part to try his hand at an illustration, but he did not remember that it bore other fruit than "a very pleasant day at Jack Straw's Castle, where Dickens read one of the later numbers to us." That Maclise's wish was actually realised, however, is proved by the fact that in the fifty-fifth chapter of "The Old Curiosity Shop" there is a design by him representing Little Nell and the Sexton. Why this should have been his only contribution to the pages of "Master Humphrey's Clock" has never been explained, but it is not improbable that the artist was too busily occupied with his paintings just at this time, and therefore unable to devote serious attention to black-and-white work.

Plate LI

"THE TOWER OF THE CHIMES"
AND
"THE SPIRIT OF THE CHIMES"
Facsimiles of the Original Drawings for "The Chimes" by
D. MACLISE, R. A.

The Chimes, 1845.Maclise had been much engaged in book-illustration (sometimes signing himself "Alfred Croquis") when, in 1844, it was proposed that he should provide designs for Dickens's second Christmas Book, "The Chimes." This little story was written in Italy, and, during Dickens's absence, the necessary arrangements respecting the illustrations were made by Forster. It may be incidentally mentioned that, eager to try the effect of the story, the novelist journeyed to England for the express purpose of reading it aloud to his friends at Forster's residence in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the memorable incident being depicted by Maclise in an amusing pencil-sketch, afterwards reproduced for Forster's biography. Maclise became responsible for the frontispiece and decorative title-page of "The Chimes," both of these fanciful designs gracefully portraying elves and fairies, spirits of the bells, and allegorical figures typifying Love, Life, and Death. The original drawings, now in South Kensington Museum, were delicately executed in pencil, and engraved on steel by F. P. Becker. With reference to these illustrations, the artist wrote:—

"My Dear Forster,—I wonder if it would be possible to make the paper of the book an inch bigger, that is, to increase the width of margin around the letterpress, without much additional expense. I wish you to put the question. I do not think my design too large, but it would marvellously increase the elegance of the look of the book. I must say the 'Carol' book is the very climax of vulgarity in its mise en planches.—Au revoir..

D. M."[40]

It was, of course, considered inadvisable to depart from precedent by acting upon the above suggestion. Dickens was highly pleased with the artist's designs, and, writing to his wife on December 2, 1844, he said: "Mac's frontispiece is charming."

The Cricket on the Hearth, 1846.To the third Christmas Book, "The Cricket on the Hearth," Maclise also contributed the frontispiece and decorative title-page, which were engraved on wood instead of steel. These designs are replete with quaint fancy, the frontispiece being especially worthy of attention, comprising, as it does, no less than ten miniature tableaux, [Pg 163]
[Pg 164]the chief of these representing a homely scene, where the Carrier and his wife are seated by the fireside, their babe being rocked in its cradle by the fairies, while above the steaming kettle is perched that good spirit, the Cricket. The following undated letter is interesting on account of its connection with this Christmas story:—

"My Dear Forster,— ... I write to ask if you have a moment to see B[radbury] and E[vans] about these blocks for my little designs. I wrote to D[ickens] Saturday, and there came to me such a small pair that I instantly sent them back. Then on Saturday evening two more came; one of them will do—but as you understand the matter, and last year even got the book enlarged a little,[41] I want you to say that I must have a block for the frontispiece the exact size of the leaf on which the frontispiece of the 'Chimes' is. I have made a little sketch to be placed on the wood, and some of the little shapes come as close to the edge of the page as this line I make—". I want the wood as high and as wide as that page—but oh! my I—on, if it could but be—the page I mean, not the wood,—a little—so much larger, ah! I should be happy for life. Tell B. and E. this and ask D. to insist on it. Mind, I am not exceeding the present paper of the 'Chimes,' but for the look of the book it would be very important—and they have sent me a block much smaller than that page, whereas I cannot afford one-hundredth part of a pin's point. I know 'tis vain to write to them—so trouble you, and I want the blocks—in an hour!!!—Ever most faithfully,

D. M."

The Battle of Life, 1846.The artist prepared for "The Battle of Life" not only the customary frontispiece and title-page, but two additional designs for the later portion of the story. Dickens, who was in Paris at the time, was delighted when he heard of this, and in a letter to a friend observed: "Forster writes me that Mac has come out with tremendous vigour in the Christmas Book, and took off his coat at it with a burst of such alarming energy that he has done four subjects!" Of these, the principal is the frontispiece, representing the Dance round the Appletree, but the most successful design is that depicting "The Sisters,"—a graceful composition, and the last drawing produced by the artist for Dickens.

Remembering the novelist's keen appreciation of Maclise's illustrations in the preceding Christmas Books, it seems somewhat strange that the artist should have thus emphatically expressed himself to Forster in the following letter, evidently indited in a moment of pique:—

"My Dear F.,—It is clear to me that Dickens does not care one damn whether I make a little sketch for the book or not. However, if you think that the appearance of the volume should be as like the former ones as possible, I will with even pleasure gulp down my jealousy and draw on the wood that apple-tree, &c., for a frontispiece. In which case you must shut up that same subject to Doyle—as I saw in his sketch last night. But I do this at your bidding, and not at all for D., and on the whole would much prefer not engaging in the matter at all.—Yours truly,

D. M."

Apparently some little misunderstanding had hurt the susceptibilities of the artist, but, happily, it was speedily removed, for he presently wrote in a more conciliatory spirit:—

"My Dear Forster,—I have received the blocks and will make the design of the apple-tree and the girls dancing—so keep that subject sacred to me. B[radbury] and E[vans] have sent the block as large as the last, but as I do not approve the look of the design without margin, I intend to keep this one within bounds. They have sent me a smaller one for title-page. Now I propose, and I know it will improve the appearance of the little book, not to cram in another design there with the title—a printed title in type has always still been necessary—but if you like I will make another design for the body of the book. That one, perhaps, the lover of Marion's interview with her—and Clemency. I hope very much you will see no good objection to this proposition—or will you propose a second subject?—Ever yours truly

D. M."

Again, a few days later:—

"My Dear Forster,— ... I write to say that you will find me at the AthenÆum to-morrow at five o'clock. Do not be later. I hope then to bring with me the drawing on the block for the frontispiece—the girls dancing; for the other, I will do what you like, the girls and the Doctor, Marion reading, &c., or the lover of Marion's interview with her, and Clemency outside the door, &c. We will agree to-morrow.—Very truly yours,

D. Maclise.

"I hope there may be time enough then not to hurry it."

The following letter probably refers to the allegorical design on the title-page, depicting the triumph of Virtue over Vice, in which the figures (with one exception) are nude: although, from an allusion to "that tree," it might be suggested that it was the frontispiece:—

"My Dear Forster,—I suppose the stern moralist, Thackeray, would have described the last design I made lecherous, libidinous, lustful, lewd, and loose; but I meant it to be pure and 'mi-ld as the moo-n-beams.'

"... I only write to tell you, if you can exercise any control over its fate, that it may be placed in the hands of as good a wood-man as possible, and that he be recommended to spare that tree-e-.

"I fear that my character is gone abroad, and that I am a dog with a bad name....—Ever yours,

Daniel Maclise."

Both the frontispiece and title-page were excellently rendered on wood by John Thompson, one of the foremost engravers of the day. Maclise, however, had hoped the work would have been entrusted to others, for he observed to Forster: "I am annoyed that neither Williams nor Dalziel are to do that little design. Some one called here and took it away on Monday, and he said that there was not time (the old excuse) to do it justice." Judging from the following trenchant remarks, the artist was anything but gratified by the engraved reproductions of these drawings when they appeared in print:—

"My Dear F.,—I can never hope to get you to understand how I am mortified and humiliated by the effect of these damnable cuts. It really is too much to be called upon to submit to, to be shown up in these little dirty scratches and to have one's name blazoned as if one was proud of them. I wish to Heaven you would have my name cut out from the corners, that at least I might have the benefit of the doubt as to which of the blots is mine. I would give anything that I had kept to my original notion and had nothing to do with the thing.... I wish you had left me that last one; I would have tried to beguile myself with a belief that it might be improved. My curses light upon the miserable dog that produced it—I don't mean myself.—Ever yours,

D. Maclise.

"And what is the good of employing Thom[p]son—if the demon printers are to ruin them with their diabolic press?"

Maclise, like other draughtsmen on wood, doubtless often experienced a sense of disappointment when their delicately-pencilled drawings were hurriedly engraved and submitted to the arbitrary treatment of printer's ink. In this way those subtle touches upon which the artist prided himself were lost for ever, so that the designs appear coarse and crude. Such was obviously the case with regard to the illustrations now under consideration, notwithstanding the fact that they bear the signatures of thoroughly experienced engravers. It is a fact worth recording here that Maclise did not draw from life the figures in his designs for the Christmas Books. Indeed, it was a matter of astonishment to his brother artists that, even when working upon his more important canvases, he very rarely resorted to the use of the living model, his singular facility in composition leading him, perhaps, too often to dispense with the study of the human form; yet his works, although possessing a mannered look, are distinctively marked by characteristics of individual as well as general nature.

As already intimated, the friendship subsisting between Dickens and Maclise was of a kind the most sincere, and it was naturally coupled with a true admiration which each entertained for the genius of the other. Dickens never tired of praising the talent of the artist, whom he thought "a tremendous creature, who might do anything," and recalled with delight those halcyon days when Maclise accompanied Clarkson Stanfield, Forster, and himself on that memorable Cornish trip in 1842, one result of which was a charming painting (now in the Forster Collection at South Kensington) of the Waterfall at St. Nighton's Keive, near Tintagel, into which the artist introduced as the principal feature a young girl carrying a pitcher, the model for whom was Dickens's sister-in-law, Miss Georgina Hogarth. It should be remembered that one of the finest of the early portraits of Dickens himself was painted by Maclise in 1839, at the instigation of Chapman & Hall, with a view to an engraving for "Nicholas Nickleby," the reproduction duly appearing as the frontispiece. The original picture was presented to Dickens by his publishers, and at the sale of the novelist's effects in 1870 this very interesting canvas was purchased for £693 by the Rev. Sir E. R. Jodrell, by whom it was bequeathed to the National Gallery, where it may now be seen. Maclise is responsible also for another excellent portrait of the novelist at the same youthful period—a slight pencil-drawing (executed in 1843) representing him with his wife and her sister.

The premature death of Dickens's raven, immortalised in "Barnaby Rudge," was formally notified to Maclise by the novelist in the form of a letter narrating the details of that domestic calamity. The artist forwarded the missive to Forster, together with a sketch purporting to represent "Grip's" apotheosis, while to Dickens himself he dispatched (March 13, 1841) the following letter, which does not appear in the published collection, and is one of a very few letters extant that were addressed by him to the novelist:[42]—

"My Dear Dickens,—I received the mournful intelligence of our friend's decease last night at eleven, and the shock was great indeed. I have just dispatched the announcement to poor Forster, who will, I am sure, sympathise with us in our bereavement. I know not what to think of the probable cause of his death,—I reject the idea of the Butcher Boy, for the orders he must have in his (the Raven's) life-time received on account of the Raven himself must have been considerable. I rather cling to the notion of felo de se—but this will no doubt come out upon the post-mortem. How blest we are to have such an intelligent coroner as Mr. Wakley. I think he was just of those melancholic habits which are the noticeable signs of your intended suicide, his solitary life, those gloomy tones,—when he did speak, which was always to the purpose. Witness his last dying speech, 'Hallo! old girl,' which breathes of cheerfulness and triumphant recognition,—his solemn suit of raven black, which never grew rusty. Altogether his character was the very prototype of a Byron hero—and even of a Scott—a Master of Ravenswood. He ought to be glad he had no family. I suppose he seems to have intended it, however, for his solicitude to deposit in those Banks in the garden his savings was always very touching. I suppose his obsequies will take place immediately.

"It is beautiful, the idea of his return, even after death, to the scene of his early youth and all his associations, and lie with kindred dusts amid his own ancestral graves after having made such a noise in the world, having clearly booked his place in that immortality-coach driven by Dickens. Yes, he committed suicide; he felt he had done it and done with life. The hundreds of years! what were they to him? There was nothing more to live for—and he committed the rash act.—Sympathisingly yours,

Dan. Maclise."

It is evident from the following epistle, addressed to Forster at the time when "Dombey and Son" was appearing in monthly numbers, that Maclise, while acknowledging his intense admiration of the novelist's powers, could not bring himself to appreciate certain of his youthful creations:—

"My Dear Forster,—I think it very great—the old nautical-instrument-seller novel, and most promising. I'm never up to his young girls—he is so very fond of the age of 'Nell,' when they are most insipid. I hope he is not going to make another 'Slowboy'—but I am only trying to say something, and to find fault when there is none to find. He is absolutely alone.—Ever yours,

D. M."

In 1870 Maclise's health began seriously to fail him; he appeared languid and depressed, and in April of that year he succumbed to an attack of acute pneumonia, predeceasing the novelist by only a few weeks.

Dickens experienced a severe shock on hearing of the death of this steadfast and genuine friend, and when, three days later, he returned thanks for "Literature" at the Royal Academy dinner (his final appearance in public), he offered a most affectionate, graceful, and eloquent tribute to the memory of him who had just passed away. "For many years," he said, "I was one of the two most intimate friends and most constant companions of the late Mr. Maclise. Of his genius in his chosen art I will venture to say nothing here, but of his prodigious fertility of mind and wonderful wealth of intellect, I may confidently assert that they would have made him, if he had been so minded, at least as great a writer as he was a painter. The gentlest and most modest of men, the freshest as to his generous appreciation of young aspirants, and the frankest and largest-hearted as to his peers, incapable of a sordid or ignoble thought, gallantly sustaining the true dignity of his vocation, without one grain of self-ambition, wholesomely natural at the last as at the first, 'in wit a man, simplicity a child,' no artist, of whatsoever denomination, I make bold to say, ever went to his rest leaving a golden memory more pure from dross, or having devoted himself with a truer chivalry to the art-goddess whom he worshipped." These were the last public words of Charles Dickens, and they were uttered when the speaker was far from well, and when, indeed, he was himself nearing the brink of the Great Unknown.