Reminiscences of Charles West Cope, R. A.

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REMINISCENCES

OF

CHARLES WEST COPE, R. A.

CHARLES WEST COPE, R. A.

London : Richard Bentley & Son, 1891.

Photographed by Done & Ball, 62, Cheapside, E.C.

REMINISCENCES

OF

Charles West Cope

R.A.

HIS SON CHARLES HENRY COPE, M.A.

LONDON

RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON publishers in ©rtonart) to ^f)er ^Wafcstti the (Queen 1 891 [All rights reserved]

^0

GEORGE RICHMOND, Esq.,

MY OWN AND MY FATHER'S DEAREST FRIEND, WHOM SO MUCH IS WRITTEN IN THESE PAGES,

I Situate

THIS LIFE RECORD, WITH THE DEEPEST REGARD AND AFFECTION.

C. H. C

Chapter I. Page

My Aunt Eliza — A Broken Arm— Leeds Grammar School— My Schoolmasters — An Original Trout-fly — Early Fishing Days — Sass's Academy — Paternal Letters — A Chancery Suit — My Father — An Academy Student — An Original Screw-propeller — Stonhouse — Francis Cary — Cornelius Harrison — Boating Cruises — A Stern Chase — 'The Skipper' . . . 1 — 35

Chapter II. First Experiences Abroad

Charles Lamb — Edward White — Ingres— Darley— Old French Ladies — Geneva — Swiss Scenery — Italian Pictures — The Galleries at Florence — A Method of Painting — First Impressions of Rome — A Tour in Umbria — Orvieto — Assisi — Italian Preaching — The Old Spectacle-maker — Terni — Narni, etc. — Hermit of Soracte — A Miracle — Return to Rome ....... 36—71

Chapter III. Italy

S. Martino — Pactum, Pompeii, Herculaneum— Albergo de' Poveri — Vesuvius — Cuma — Vesuvius — An Offended Saint — Sorrento— Thomas Fearnley — A Human Devil-fish — Pisa — Lucca— Florence— Mr. Pickersgill, R.A. — A Plausible Rogue viii

CONTENTS.

— Siena — Florence —Parma — Correggio — Giulio Romano — Verona to Padua — Padua to Venice — Mr. Pickersgill, R.A. — The Society of Ponte Molle .... 72 — no

Chapter IV. Early Pictures — Sheepshanks— Love-making

A Bow Street Magistrate — Holiday Rambles — An Imperfect Lesson — Richard Redgrave, R.A. — John Sheepshanks — George Richmond, R.A. — The Benning Family — 'The Course of True Love,' etc. — An Exciting Fishing Match — Curious Characters — A Converted Poacher — Barnard Castle — The Etching Club — La Belle Mere — Marriage — Poor Law Guardians — The British Public . . . . in— 145

Chapter V. The Fresco-painting Movement

Westminster Hall Cartoons — Fishing in Ireland — Italy revisited — Munich — Hess of Munich — Pictures at Munich — Fresco-painting — Partridge-shooting — North-Country Clergymen — A Queer Parson — Longevity — The ' Ever-Greens' — Dyce's Fresco, Osborne — Order of the Garter — Fresco Details — Interrupted Work — Elected a Member — Wells Cathedral — Etching Club— ' L' Allegro 5 .... 146—180

Chapter VI. Excursion With George Richmond

The Coquet — A Northumbrian Beauty — Lancaster — The Doctor and the Chemist — Sevenoaks — ' Managed by a Committee ' — Salmon-fishing at Aboyne — Lance and the Duke — Speyfishing — Sir John Coleridge and the ' Christian Year ' — Starch in Fresco-painting — Brinkburn Priory — Cheviot Hills —Doctors differ — The 'Pilgrim Fathers' — Royal Academy Reforms, etc. — Turner's Will, etc. — Picture-hanging — Details of Fresco-painting — Movable Fresco — Royal Academy Matters— Chub-fishing— Hard Nuts . . . 181— 219

CONTENTS.

ix

Chapter VII. Fresco-painting, Duddon Valley, Etc

PAGE

Royal Academy Associates — Petworth, Windsor, etc. — Art Treasures, Manchester — ' Wonderful Walker' — Duddon Hall — Silecroft — Sedbergh — Manchester — Spurgeon — Webster — Richmond — Charles Dickens and 'Squeers' — A Spirit Visitor — A Quaint Courtship— Harwich — 'Liberators of Spain' — Calais — Sleeplessness — Mark Pattison as a Sportsman— Fishing Episodes — Old Friends — Florence Cope — Abinger — Boulogne ..... 220 — 253

Chapter VIII. Fresco-painting, Royal Academy Reform, Etc

Peers' Corridor Frescoes — The Queen's Robing-Room — The Prince Consort — An Auction — Professor of Painting — Academy Reform — Paris Exhibition, 1867 — Death of his Wife — Durham — Dovedale — Various Pictures — Geological Curiosities — Yachting Cruises .... 254 — 278

Chapter IX. Trip To America

Boston City — Philadelphia — Judging the Pictures — American Hospitality — Black Waiters — Quaker Friends — Sunstroke — Niagara— Saratoga — Who is ' the Great Cope ' ? . 279—298

Chapter X. The 'lecture.'

A Hearty Welcome — The Commissioners — Committee Meetings — Principle of Awards — Difficulties — Revision of the Awards —Original Principle justified — Medals, for Painting, a Mistake— Letter to the Natio7i — An Extraordinary Scheme — The ' American Rubens ' — Art of Different Nations — Art in America — American Architecture — American Feeling towards England ....... 299 — 331

X

CONTENTS.

Conclusion

PAGE

' Lieutenant Cameron's Return' — Second Marriage — Henry Benning Cope — His Latter Days — Dogs — Italian Reminiscences — Bournemouth — Origin of the Memoirs — Artists' Models — Last Letter — The End . . . . . 332 — 353

APPENDIX I.

Evidence of C. W. Cope, R.A., before the Royal Academy Commission, 1863 ...... 354—374

APPENDIX II.

Catalogue of Pictures painted by C. W. Cope . . 375 — 388

APPENDIX III.

Letters on the House of Lords fresco . . . 389 — 392

REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

Chapter I. Early Life : I 8 I I — I 82 7

Having been frequently asked by my younger children to give them some account of my early life, of which they are almost entirely ignorant, I proceed to jot down what I remember, as well as what I have been told, of my very few relations.

I was born at Leeds (in Park Square) on July 28, 181 1. I had a sister a year older. Shortly after my birth my mother died, also her sister, ' Aunt Nancy,' of consumption, and my father was left a widower with two children.

He was an enthusiastic artist, and named my sister ' Ellen Turner," and me 1 Charles West,' Cope, after two eminent painters, both of whom he knew personally. My mother also, I was told, was a gifted amateur. Her drawings in water-colour were as good as could be, mostly of figure (rural) subjects, with refined and rich colour, of which I

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

only remember two or three. My father was a water-colour painter. in landscape pure and simple. In those early days there was not a great demand for modern works of art, so that he gained his income by giving lessons. He had a great number of pupils, and was well-to-do in worldly matters, and highly respected.

As I was, I believe, rather a puny child, I was sent out to Woodhouse Moor, then quite in the country, to be nursed by a very strong, healthy woman named Jane Sharp, whose husband was the manager of a steam-engine near their cottage, and I have been told that I always accompanied Jane to take the dinner to her husband, William Sharp, toddling at her side and holding her gown. She was my foster-mother, and to her I attribute the good constitution I have had, which to a great extent must have modified any original delicacy. Jane Sharp had several sons and one daughter. She died in middle life, but her husband lived to a good old age, and in his last years I helped him till he died.

I must have lived at Woodhouse Moor for two or three years, as I so completely acquired the Northern dialect that, when I returned home, I was unintelligible, and it was thought advisable to send me to school in the South. I was therefore sent to London, and the first distinct recollection I have is of sitting on the knee of a pale lady, who kissed me and cried ; this was my Aunt Eliza who afterwards resided in my father's house. From thence I was sent to a boarding-school in Camberwell Grove kept

MY A UNT ELIZA by a Mrs. Johnson. It was a large old-fashioned house with a large garden. I remember our going to church, two and two, and an object of great interest in the town was a huge tin grasshopper over a grocer's shop-door, with which I renewed acquaintance many years after in a walk through Camberwell to Dulwich Gallery. Probably it still exists. At that school 1 dislocated my right arm. During the holidays I lived with Aunt Eliza and a very fat, good-natured old lady, called Aunt Strong, somewhere in Pimlico, near a canal. There was a very handsome collie dog, and a very old lady who sat and rocked in a chair all day, and muttered to herself. I was afraid of her, as she could not endure ' noisy children.' There was a rocking-horse overhead which caused many complaints. The collie dog went mad, and bit Aunt Eliza in the arm, and it was destroyed. I was next sent to school at a Mr. Terry's, at Great Marlow. This was a rough experience for a boy about seven years old. I was bullied by all, and led a miserable life. On half-holidays we went with an usher into the woods, and one of the amusements of the older boys was to drive small boys away and leave them to wander about when lost. Another was to climb the tall beech-trees to take squirrels' nests. The parents were killed by throwing at them short clubs loaded with lead. These animals were afterwards roasted over a fire in a hut in the play-ground, built of interwoven boughs covered with clay and thatched, and where we imagined ourselves very comfortable.

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

One day two big boys each held an end of a hedge-stake on their shoulders ; another placed me astride it, and if I attempted to hold on with my hands I received a rap on the knuckles, so that I was obliged to try and balance myself. The boys occasionally gave a jerk, and the amusement consisted in seeing the awkward contortions of the victim. Of course I was upset, and falling across my left arm, it was dislocated, and also broken at the elbowjoint. Mrs. Terry, while waiting for the surgeon, gave me some pears, which I ate. When the operation of replacing the bones was going on she fainted, and had to be attended to. I was then bandaged and put to bed. At night some of the big boys came into my bedroom and roughly tore down the clothes to see what a broken arm was like, holding a candle over the arm, which fell out and burnt the arm above the bandage, and raised a large blister. I was then left for a few days in peace. At length I was allowed to walk in the master's private garden. The boys, however, enticed me out, and volunteered to wheel me in a barrow into a neighbouring cornfield. There they upset me into a dry ditch full of thistles, and my arm slipped out of the sling, and seemed all wrong again. Fever set in, and I was freely leeched, sitting in the hot sun in the kitchen, and then put to bed again, and the surgeon's amputating tools were sent for, to be ready for emergencies. But the swelling and fever subsided, and again I was allowed in the garden. I was very weak, and the hot sun and the odour of

A BROKEN ARM

S scabious flowers made me feel faint. At the end of a hot gravel walk I found a cool green arbour, and made for it ; but to my dismay I found it occupied by a (to me) beautiful angel in a thin white dress. I retreated, but she gently rose and led me back, took me on her knee and kissed me ; on which I fell a-blubbering. I was not used to words of kindness. I afterwards had to undergo what was called 4 passive motion ' of the elbow, and very painful it was, bending the stiff joint by main force. Also I had to carry an oyster-barrel filled with stones to straighten it. In the master's garden was a fine plum-tree, and I was ordered by my tyrants to shake the tree and throw them the plums ; but at last my patience was exhausted, and I refused, and dire were the threats to punish me. How well I remember the outline of the Marlow woods as seen from my bedroom window, the summer fading into autumn ! At last deliverance came, and my father took me to London to consult an eminent surgeon, Mr. Clive. 1 hesitated to let him examine me, as a foolish woman had told me that he would break my arm again ; but the kind old man soothed me, and patted my head, and promised me not to do anything without my leave. I then suffered him ; and he said it was a good cure for so serious a smash, and that in time the arm would recover some degree of movement. This it did, but it has never since been other than a crooked limb with limited action. Next day I was taken to Mr. Cartwright, the dentist, and he extracted four teeth, ' to make room,' he said.

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

The following day the punishment was to be repeated with two double teeth ; but I got under a circular table and clung to the pillar, and kicked so viciously that he let me off ! My father then took me back to Yorkshire, and also Aunt Eliza. I remember only one incident on the journey. Our chaise was going through Sherwood Forest, and some men called to our postilion to stop. My father got out, and found two men with a prisoner they had taken for some crime, and we were requested to send constables from the next town, which we did. The prisoner looked a strong fellow, but he was firmly bound.

After my return to Leeds I was entered as a pupil at the Grammar School there. There were three masters. I was under the third, but soon got

into the second school under the Rev. W . He

was a very severe master, and for his extreme cruelty he had been deprived of the power of flogging, and sent up all delinquents to be flogged by the head-master (Rev. G. Walker, Fellow of Trinity, Cambridge), a very humane man (after he'd had breakfast). To make up for this deprivation,

W invented other punishments, such as pulling

boys' ears, sometimes till they bled, knocking knuckles with his ruler, pulling hair out, causing boys to stand or kneel on forms holding up a heavy leaden inkstand, etc., until some imposition, such as a hundred lines of Virgil, was executed, to be doubled each day if they were not finished. Of course, the debt increased daily, and boys sometimes stood up for

LEEDS GRAMMAR SCHOOL weeks together, till some great holiday wiped out the account, or the delinquent was disabled by broken

health. W s favourite term for a dull boy was

to call him ' it' — ' Doesn't it know ?' 4 Can't it tell ?' etc. Under this treatment boys became rebellious, so that at last the method pursued was as follows : to call up (say) the fourth form ; each boy was asked in turn, 4 Do you know your lesson ?' Those who said 4 Yes ' remained ; those who said ' No ' were sent down. If a boy who said 1 Yes ' stumbled in his task, he was punished for not knowing it by a hundred lines of Virgil, and another hundred for Lying ; so that boys found that the only safe plan was to say 4 No,' and thus escape both work and punishment. This system had the ultimate effect of making all the boys entirely idle, save two or three exceptionally good lads, who had to bear the taunts

and cruelties of W s ingenious torments and

sarcasms. As a specimen of these he would, after getting a boy thoroughly puzzled, set him some absurd sum, e.g., to 4 multiply a load of hay by 1 5f lb. of cheese, minus 6 oz. of sugar ' ! The boys became quite demoralized. At last, one

morning, W came with a blue bag full of unad-

dressed letters, and every boy was called up and one of these letters given him addressed to his parents, stating that he was an incorrigible idler, suggesting his removal from the school, and requesting an answer. The boys held a meeting, but no decision could be arrived at. Some would give the letter, some put theirs in the fire, and others

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

delayed under some excuse. I was of the first group, and gave the letter to my sister to deliver to my father. I was kept at home for two or three days. Nothing had been said to me, but my father seemed distressed. At last I was called in, and he spoke sadly, but kindly, and asked me what I proposed to do in life if I threw away the education offered me. He gave me a day to consider, and when I was recalled I told him that I had thought it well over, and promised to do my very best for

the future. So a letter to W was written, and

I returned to school. I believe this to have been the turning point in my life, as I was led for the first time to reflect on conduct and on the consequences of idleness. After this I got on pretty well at school, but I found it hard work trying to make up for lost time, often sitting up late at night doing with difficulty what ought to have been easy. However, I got a remove into the fourth form, and next term gained a prize and removal into the fifth, under the head-master, to my great content, though I found myself sadly handicapped by my previous

idleness. I feel it right to say that W was (in

his own way) kind to me after my reform, and even lent me books, such as logarithm-tables, etc., out of his library. About this time we had a holiday on account of the first York Musical Festival, and (to show how little malice is borne by boys) we of the fourth form who were to be promoted to the fifth

determined to give W a breakfast at the White

Swan. We concocted an invitation, and I and

MY SCHOOLMASTERS 9

another schoolfellow were deputed to take the note. When we had delivered it to the servant we bolted !

W accepted our invitation, and it came off

most successfully. He was full of jokes and good stories, and we thought him quite charming, and when the chaise to take him to York Festival came to the door we all went down to escort him, and gave him hearty cheers.

Some few years after this W again got into

trouble for cruelty, and was prosecuted by a boy's parent ; and I was told that in his defence he quoted this breakfast as evidence of the great affection his boys had for him ! He got off with a reprimand, I believe, and ultimately retired on a living.

To do him further justice, I may mention that many years afterwards, while staying with my friend, Professor Chevalier, at Durham, happening to speak of schoolmasters, I told him some of my experiences

under W ; whereon the professor said that he

was an excellent mathematician, and his particular friend, and that a clock he much valued was constructed and given to him by W , ' and he was

a good man'

I did not get higher in the school than the upper fifth, reading Xenophon, Homer, and Virgil, and about half of Euclid, most of which I have forgotten. My father took me to say farewell to Walker, and he expressed sorrow at my going, as he thought I should have done well if I had remained and gone to the University. Under Walker I never had even an imposition. Our only complaint of him io CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

was that he was needlessly severe before breakfast, and rather drowsy after dinner. He was a good man, but rather a heavy preacher, like many other mathematicians. He held the living of Trinity Church, Leeds. I will not dwell further on school experiences, except to say that we had fights, of course, and one grand battle on a larger scale.

During my school-days I was expected to draw at home. My father fancied he discovered in me a talent for art ; and I had to draw eyes, noses and mouths from the antique, which I thought dull work, and I did them badly. What I liked better was drawing groups from prints in the Choiseul gallery, from Cuyp, Paul Potter, Terburg, etc., and for these I got praised. During one summer holiday I went with two or three school-fellows to stay in a farm boarding-house at Ilkley, where I was told to make one drawing a day from nature, such as rustic weeds, etc. Not ever having seen a finished drawing of such things, I made bad selections, and worse copies, and the sketches were ignominiously torn up. In fact, I saw no beauty, and took no interest in them ; and bathing, cricket and other games, and rambles over Rumbold Moor, had far greater attractions for me. Ilkley in those days was a beautiful sequestered moorland village with thatched cottages. I was also obliged to be held under the ice-cold water at the wells in order to strengthen my broken elbow, but all it did was to make it ache fearfully. Among the books I read most constantly for pleasure was one called ' Voyages

AN ORIGINAL TROUT-FLY

1 1 round the World,' and, still more dear, old Izaak Walton, of which I never tired, and it begot in me such a love of pastoral scenery and angling pursuits that it tinged my whole after-life. When he spoke of fly-fishing I supposed he meant mostly house-flies ; so I caught a blue-bottle, and as silks and feathers were mentioned, I got a small piece of blue-black satin, and tied it into a bunch stuffed with cottonwool : for wings I got the fibres from a pen ; I tried black beads for eyes, and made a monster large enough and ugly enough to frighten all the fish in the river! However, one evening I saw a man fly-fishing for dace, and his flies were a revelation to me, so small and thin that I wondered to see him catch fish. 1 described my fly, at which he roared with laughter. I got him to take me with him sometimes, and thus became initiated into the mysteries of fly-fishing.

One day 1 met a gentleman with him, and he was very kind to me, and took me to his house and showed me how to dress flies, and at last asked me to go with him to fish in the Wharfe at Harewood. I asked leave at home, and was given some money, and went early to bed so as to wake in time (four o'clock) next morning. I arranged with the watchman to call me by pulling a string with a bullet at the end let down out of window, attached to my toe. I slept restlessly ; and hearing the noise of footsteps, I got up, thinking that the servants were getting up, but they were only going to bed ; so I turned in again, and was awakened

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

by tugs at my toe, when I found I had got into bed the wrong way, my feet being on the pillow. I was soon ready, and went out in the dark to my friend's house, and pulled the kitchen-bell as directed. He let me in, and I found a nice breakfast of coffee, ham and eggs on the table in front of the kitchen fire. We started soon after five, and walked eight or nine miles to Harewood Bridge, on a beautiful summer morning. The only live things were the swallows flying about. My friend gave me one fly, and told me how to throw my line, but I soon got into trouble, lost my fly and broke my line, so I preferred going with him to look on. He took nothing, however, and about noon heavy rain came on and the river was flooded. Then he procured some cakes of a wasp's nest, and fished with these, sitting squatted on the grass, but still without result ; so we adjourned to a snug little inn and had more ham and eggs by the fire, and he told me wonderful fishing stories till bed-time. Next morning, at seven, more ham and eggs, and out we went ; but the river was too thick, so we set out on our return, and were joined by a professional angler who had a basket full of coarse fish, chub and dace, with a trout or two. The man's stories and language were coarse in the extreme — a bright, keen little sunburnt vagabond — but my friend seemed to extract much fun and information from him on fera natura, and I then and there became a firm devotee.

One summer, during the holidays, I was taken

EARLY FISHING DAYS by my father, with a friend, for a tour in Teesdale. Oh, the delight ! I was about thirteen years old. We took the coach to Greta Bridge. What a Paradise it seemed — the large coaching inn ; the bridge over the Greta ; the beautiful stream, winding through meadows or dashing down ravines and over rocks ! I got up at daylight, and went to a deep pool at the end of the meadow above the bridge, and having caught a few large flies, bluebottles, etc., I lay down on my face, and just peered over the edge of a rock, and dropped a tempting fly on to the water ; raised him again and dropped him artfully ; and at last a large trout eyed him and rose. I struck too soon, and missed him ; so I tried him again, and gave more time, and next time he rose he hooked himself and I pulled him out, a pounder. I soon caught another ; and hearing footsteps in the long grass 1 saw my father, who had been waiting breakfast, and was alarmed at my long absence. So I returned with him to the inn ; and while walking a mist overspread my eyes, and I nearly fainted, from long fasting and lying in the sun ; but my father supported me, and a good breakfast on the two big trout soon restored me. I afterwards bathed in this deep pool while my father was sketching, and swam across it and back ; and when he saw that I could swim he seemed pleased, and then gave me leave to bathe in the river with other boys, which before had been refused me. We went to Greta Woods, Rokeby, Barnard Castle, up to Middleton and over the Winch Bridge

CHARLES WEST COPE, R.A.

(then made of planks, and supported on chains), and so up to the High Force waterfall and the Caldron Snout, a long cascade down the hill-side coming out of a moorland pool called the Wheel, which may be considered as the source of the river Tees. We returned by Richmond, where I had another fishing adventure. My father went to the shop of a Mr. Saunderson to buy some gloves ; and on the counter I spied some splendid artificial large white evening moths for fishing, in which I was deeply interested. The old man kindly talked to me about fishing, and said he was going to try these moths in the evening, and offered to take me with him. I joyfully assented, as my father and his friend were going to the theatre to hear Madame Catalani, who was ' starring ' in the country towns. Mr. Saunderson waited till it was dark, but set me to work ' dapping ' for trout. I got hold of a large one ; but in trying to land him my short line caught on a bough, and the fish hung suspended in the air. At last the hook straightened, and he fell back into the water. It was now dark, so I sat under a tree to see Mr. Saunderson throwing his great white moth skilfully over a deep curling pool, but without raising a fish. Still he persevered, for hours, and I got very cold and sleepy. At last he said to me, ' What can those glancing lights be, far away ?' Presently they came nearer, and we heard shouts. It was my father, with five or six men, ostlers, etc., from the inn, looking for us ! It seems he had returned from the

SASS>S ACADEMY opera, and went to see me safe in bed, and when he found the bed empty, became alarmed, and so set out to look for me. Mr. Saunderson said quietly, ' I didn't think of the time.' It was about two o'clock ; and but for this interruption I believe he would have gone on all night. Then we all tramped home, two or three miles through the fields, and went to bed at our inn. This tour in Teesdale made a great impression on me, and its consequences tinctured my whole future life, and also created in me a passionate love for romantic scenery.

My next great change of scene and life was being transferred to London, as a pupil in Mr. H. Sass's Academy of Art in Bloomsbury.

[Here I interrupt my father's narrative to supply an omission. He appears to have gone to London in August, 1827, being then just sixteen years old, and to have stayed first for a month on a visit to an old friend of his father's, D. F. Ryan, Esq., an assistant secretary in the Excise Office, London. I give extracts from letters from his father which he had preserved, probably the last he received from him, to fill up the interval :