LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER, A.R.A. 
 
WalkcriBinttall.Ph.S 
 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER, A.R.A 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN GEORGE MARKS 
 
 Our business is not to wish the artist difFerent, but to find out what he is, and to 
 love him within the necessary limits of his sphere. — Stopford Brooke. 
 
 fVith Illustrations 
 
 ILontion 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd. 
 
 NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO. 
 1896 
 
 {The Htght of Translation and Reproduction is Reset ved) 
 

 Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, 
 london and bungay. 
 
^i/? 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 Although in these days of book-making, no apology may be necessary 
 for adding another to the number, I owe it to myself to state the reasons 
 that have led me thus far to venture into unfamiliar paths. Chiefly they 
 were these : — that the accident of my connection with Walker had 
 placed in my hands a large number of his home letters, illustrative, as it 
 seemed, of character ; and a belief that while his works endure, not only 
 the present, but succeeding generations, will wish to know what manner 
 of man he was who gave them birth. 
 
 These considerations, if offering sufficient excuse for a biography, did 
 not in themselves point to me as the author of it. It was obvious that 
 by placing the letters in properly qualified hands, more might be made 
 of them from a literary point of view, than I could hope to arrive at. 
 On the other hand, it appeared to be a necessity that any one making use 
 of the letters should possess that intimate and continuous knowledge, 
 not only of Walker but of his family, which would be likely to ensure 
 due recognition of the points of character to be gathered from them, 
 and sufficient explanation of their references to work. On the whole, in 
 the opinion of my friends, it seemed best that I should attempt the task. 
 
 Thus much having been settled, the scope of the book fell naturally 
 within certain well-defined lines. Whatever might have been the case 
 had the letters been placed in other hands, it was no part of my duty to 
 assume in any way the implied superiority of the critic. In no sense is 
 
 255269 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 the book a dissertation on Walker as a painter, or an attempt to estimate 
 his place in the world of art. It is simply an endeavour, mainly by means 
 of his own words, to give a picture of the man, and of the circumstances 
 under which his works were produced. Such criticism by others as 
 appears has been given for its historical value, as showing the manner in 
 which he was received by his contemporaries. 
 
 In the letters themselves — many still in their envelopes as when 
 opened by eager, loving hands ; some still containing the dried and faded 
 flower that once breathed of moor or hill-side — it has been thought best, 
 for the convenience of the reader, to make some slight alterations. 
 These consist chiefly of a more decided division into sentences [Walker 
 having largely employed a dash instead of a full stop], and additions to 
 the punctuation. Here and there an obviously missing word has been 
 supplied, or a palpable error corrected, but in no case has the sense been 
 in any way altered. 
 
 It has been a satisfaction to me, in dealing with such intimate letters, 
 to come across evidence in Mrs. Walker's handwriting that she had in 
 view the possibility of some such use as the present being made of them. 
 The assistance given me by others in the progress of the work has 
 laid me under obligations which are poorly repaid by thanks. To my 
 friend and neighbour. Miss Clementina Black, who has aided me by her 
 skilled advice, as well as in more active ways ; to Messrs. Thos. Agnew 
 and Sons who have allowed me to reproduce those works in which they 
 have an interest ; to the owners whose names are given in the list of 
 illustrations ; and to those who have so greatly added to the value of the 
 book by their notes ; I tender my warmest acknowledgments. The 
 manner in which the owners of the pictures and drawings have responded 
 to my request for permission to reproduce them has been most gratify- 
 ing, and has enabled me to bring together a collection in which but few 
 important works of original subjects are missing. In this connection, I 
 would especially thank Sir William Agnew, who not only has allowed 
 the reproduction of the valuable works in his possession, and supplied 
 me with an interesting note, but has personally procured for me the 
 names of other owners. 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 Lastly, I would fain give fitting acknowledgment to my friend Mr. 
 J. W. North, A. R. A., not only for the matter but the manner of his 
 help. How much the book would have lost had his help been wanting, 
 the reader will be able to judge. For me, the days I have spent with 
 him when he piloted me over the historic ground of The Old Gate^ 'The 
 Ploughy The Right of Way^ must ever rank as the pleasantest part of my 
 labours. In these times, and in the many letters which have passed 
 between us, I have learned to know him better, and fully to enter into 
 the regard in which Walker held him, 
 
 J. G. M. 
 
 BoswELL House, 
 South End, 
 Croydon. 
 
 September 1896. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 EARLY YEARS I 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 1858— 1859 6 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 i860 13 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 1861 — 1863 26 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 1864 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 1865 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 1866 69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 1867 97 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 1868 121 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PACE 
 1869 167 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 1870 195 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 1871 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 1872 237 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 1873 • 256 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 1874 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 1875 307 
 
 LIST OF WALKER'S EXHIBITED WORKS , 319 
 
 INDEX 321 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 With the exception of those on pp. 22, 25, 254, and 313, all the illustrations are repro- 
 ductions of Walker's own work. Those against which no owners name appears 
 have been supplied by the author. 
 
 PLATES. 
 
 OWNER. I'AGE 
 
 Portrait OF W.VLKER AT THE AGE OF 25 Frontispiece 
 
 Spring. SirWilliam Agnew, Bart. . /<»>rt' 48 
 
 Wayfarers Sir William Agnew, Bart ... 81 
 
 B.\THERS W. CuthbertQuilter,Esq., M.P. 102 
 
 Vagrants National Gallery no 
 
 The Gondola Rt.Hon.JosephChamberlain,M.P. 140 
 
 Lilies Mrs. W. Graham 159 
 
 The Old G.\te A. E. Street, Esq 174 
 
 A Lady in a Garden, Perthshire Mrs. W. Graham 192 
 
 The Plough His Excy. The Marquis dc .Misa 206 
 
 The Ferry. . S. G. Holland, Esq 213 
 
 The Harbour OF Refuge National Gallerj' 240 
 
 A Fishmonger's Shop S. G. Holland, Esq 252 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT 
 
 Walker at the British Museum. (Early drawing) 4 
 
 Design for Wood Drawing 7 
 
 The Fishmonger 9 
 
 The Secret. (Langham Sketch) F. Smallfield, Esq 10 
 
 Study for Blackberrying 11 
 
 The Brook. (Langham Sketch) J. R. Clayton, Esq 12 
 
 The Fire. (Langham Sketch) • .... J. R. Clayton, Esq 14 
 
 Old Age. (Langham Sketch) 15 
 
 The Angler's Return. (Langham Sketch) . . . H. S. Marks, Esq., R.A. ... 16 
 
 The Peep-Show. (Langham Sketch) 17 
 
 Drawing of Thackeray's Back Mrs. Richmond Ritchie .... 20 
 
 Drawing by Thackeray. {A Quarrel) 22 
 
 A Quarrel. (From Philip) Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. . 23 
 
 Letter from Th.\ckeray 25 
 
 Study of Boy looking at a Grave Somerset Beaumont, Esq. ... 27 
 
xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PACE 
 
 An Old Boy's Tale. {Once a Week) Messrs. Bradbury and Agncw • 28 
 
 The Settlers of Long Arrow. {Once a Week) . Messrs. Bradbury and Agnew . 29 
 
 Summer 31 
 
 Strange Faces. (From a photograph) 32 
 
 Out among the Wild Flowers The Proprietors of Good Words 33 
 
 The Lost Path H. F. Makins, Esq 35 
 
 The Deadly. Affinity. {Once a Week) Messrs. Bradbury and Agnew . 36 
 
 Scene Y'R.ou Jane Eyre W. H. Hooper, Esq 38 
 
 Cottage at Beddington 39 
 
 Caricature. {Up a Tree) P. H. Caldcron, Esq., R.A. . . 40 
 
 Philip in Church Mrs. Henry Tate 43 
 
 The Summer Woods The Proprietors of Good Wotds 46 
 
 Caricature. {E.N.E. wind) W. Westley Manning, Esq. . . 51 
 
 Invitation Card, Moray Minstrels, 1865 52 
 
 Caricature. {What would the Society say ?) 56 
 
 Figure from A Vision of the Clique H. S. Marks, Esq., R.A. ... 58 
 
 Caricature. {The Last Rose of Stcmmer) 59 
 
 Ditto {Andante and Rondo a la Polka) 60 
 
 Autumn • . Sir William Agnew, Bart. ... 65 
 
 Invitation Card, Moray Minstrels, 1866 67 
 
 Caricature. {To-morrow^ \ p. Z p.m.) • 69 
 
 Ditto (Walker and canvas of Z>W,^i?rj) 73 
 
 Ditto {The Hurley Bird) G. D. Leslie, Esq., R.A. • . . 76 
 
 The Spring of Life J. P. Heseltine, Esq 79 
 
 Bedroom in the Highlands , 82 
 
 Walker and Fisherman 83 
 
 Scene in the Highlands. (Shepherd's Hut) 85 
 
 Fisherman and Boy George James, Esq 87 
 
 Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent. . Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. . 89 
 
 Sketch of Two Figures for Bathers 90 
 
 A Vacarme Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. . 91 
 
 The Street, Cookham S. G. Holland, Esq 93 
 
 Two Cats 95 
 
 Invitation Card, Moray Minstrels, 1867 97 
 
 Caricature. {^Romance for You Two) 10 1 
 
 Ditto (Paris) 103 
 
 Ditto {Coffee for Two) W. H. Hooper, Esq 104 
 
 Ditto {Doiiig Paris— The last day) .... W. H. Hooper, Esq 105 
 
 Ditto (Walker receiving a medal) 106 
 
 Frontispiece to The Story of Elizabeth Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. . 107 
 
 Boys and Lamb. (From a photograph) • 109 
 
 Caricature. (Walker and Mr. Agnew looking at 
 
 Vagrants) 1 1 1 
 
 Stream in Inverness-shire J. Snowden Henry, Esq. ... 115 
 
 Black-eyed Sue and Crosstree W. H. Hooper, Esq 118 
 
 The Fates George Smith, Esq 119 
 
 Caricature. (The Hanging Committee) 120 
 
 ^C^^'&Y^OU Meg's Diversion W. H. Hooper, Esq 122 
 
 Well-Sinkers Sir William Agnew, Bart. ... 127 
 
LISr OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii 
 
 OWNER PAGE 
 
 The First Swallow Professor H. Herkomer, R.A. . 129 
 
 Gibraltar W. H. Hooper, Esq 132 
 
 On Board the s.s. Kedar 133 
 
 Caricature. {The Mushroom Gatherers) J. W. North, Esq., A. R.A. . . . 148 
 
 Design for Book Illustration 149 
 
 Mushrooms and Fungi Humphrey Roberts, Esq. ... 151 
 
 Sketch OF Halsway Court 153 
 
 "Rose's Breakfast" 153 
 
 Caricature. {The Evening^ s Excitement at Halsway) J. W. North, Esq., A. R.A. • • . 156 
 
 Ditto {The Hon. Member) • 160 
 
 Ditto {The Young ''ooinan who broke my Flute) 164 
 
 Two Girls AT A Fireside. (From a photograph) 177 
 
 Letter in fac-simile J. Swain, Esq 179, 180, 181 
 
 " Punch " Drawing. {Captain Jinks) Messrs. Bradbury and Agnew . 182 
 
 Design for Captain Jinks 184 
 
 Caricature. {The Member's Brother) 187 
 
 Dead Mastiff Mrs. Homer 190 
 
 Sketch. ( Uncle Fred painting) 202 
 
 Designs ON Wall of Billiard Room Sir WilHam Agnew, Bart. . . . 216 
 
 Invitation Card, Moray Minstrels, 1871 219 
 
 Caric.\ture. Ku?ilau (Flute duet) 220 
 
 Study for ^/ ///<? ^^^r Somerset Beaumont, Esq. . . . 222 
 
 At the Bar. (From a photograph) 225 
 
 The Old Farm Garden R. C. Lehmann, Esq 228 
 
 A Girl AT A Stile His Excy. The Marquis de Misa 230 
 
 The Housewife Reginald H. Prance, Esq. . . . 231 
 
 Poster Ca.sst\\'s Magazine oj Art . . . 233 
 
 The Rainy Day South Kensington Museum . 236 
 
 Original Design for The Harbour of Refuge. Sir William Agnew, Bart. ... 239 
 
 The Escape W. Dalglish-Bellasis, Esq. . . 243 
 
 Frontispiece to A Daughter of Heth. (From a 
 
 photograph) 246 
 
 Caric.\TURE. {Auchineilan,]M\y 27, \2,-j2) .... A. S. Stevenson, Esq 249 
 
 The Village A. Graeme Ogilvie, Esq. ... 251 
 
 Caricature of Captain Jinks A. S. Stevenson, Esq 254 
 
 Study of Boy looking at a Grave 257 
 
 Design for The Unknown Land J. P. Heseltine, Esq 259 
 
 Ditto ditto H. R. Robertson, Esq 263 
 
 Caricature. (Walker catching a train) A. S. Stevenson, Esq 268 
 
 Ditto {Curious appearance presented by 
 
 A. ... S. ... n, Esq.) .... A. S. Stevenson, Esq 269 
 
 The Temptation of St. Anthony Walker ... H. E. Watts, Esq 277 
 
 The Unknown Land Sir Lowthian Bell, Bart. ... 292 
 
 Sketch. (Folkestone) 295 
 
 Mushroom Gatherers Somerset Beaumont, Esq. ... 305 
 
 The Right of Way. (From a photograph) .... Melbourne National Gallery . . 308 
 Medallion Portrait by H. H. Armstead, Esq., 
 
 R.A. 
 
 313 
 
 Tail-piece 317 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER, A.R.A. 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 ,/ FREDERICK WALKER, A.R.A. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EARLY YEARS 
 
 Frederick Walker was born at 90, Great Titchfield Street, 
 Marylebone, London, at half-past six o'clock in the evening of May 26, 
 I 840, the elder of twins ; his twin sister, Sarah, afterwards becoming the 
 wife of the present writer. He was the fifth son, and seventh child, of 
 William Henry Walker, and Ann {nee Powell) his wife; and his entrance 
 into the world preceded that of his twin sister by a quarter of an hour. 
 His father was a working jeweller in but a moderate way of business. 
 As the family was a large one — ten children in all — it must have been no 
 inconsiderable struggle to provide for and educate them. 
 
 There is a tradition (how far well-founded I do not know) that an 
 ancestor of Walker's was the William Walker mentioned in Shakespeare's 
 Will ; and also that another ancestor fought as a lieutenant at Culloden. 
 What is more to the purpose is that his grandfather, William Walker, 
 was an artist, and is so described in the catalogue of the sale of his effects 
 in 1 8 12. To what extent William Walker had made a name for himself, 
 I cannot say. There are, however, two portraits by him in existence, one 
 of his wife, and the other of himself, which are certainly far above 
 mediocrity. An uncle of Walker's, too, on his father's side, writing from 
 America in the year 1835, speaks of engaging himself to Mr. Thomas 
 Say, "the American Linnaeus" ; printing and engraving copper-plates for 
 a work of Mr. Say's ; so that we are not without evidence on which the 
 curious in such matters can propound the theory of heredity in Walker's 
 case. That he inherited from his mother a large amount of artistic 
 perception, there is little doubt. No one who knew her intimately 
 could fail to be struck by her expression of keenest enjoyment at the 
 sight of anything beautiful in her surroundings. She had a little way of 
 almost hugging herself as anything took her fancy — a pretty group of 
 
 B 
 
2 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, i 
 
 children, especially rustic children, the beauties of flowers, and trees, 
 and grace of movement, and colour — and I have often thought the 
 mother's influence is clearly traceable in much of her son's work, particu- 
 larly in the more homely character of some of his earlier subjects. For 
 what of loving care and watchful tenderness he was also indebted to her, 
 we shall see as we go on. 
 
 Walker's father died about the year 1847, leaving eight children; 
 and by a Will dated January 31, 1846, he left his business in the hands 
 of trustees (his wife among them), to be carried on by them until his 
 second son Henry came of age (which would be October 28, 1852), after 
 which it was to pass absolutely to his wife, his eldest and second sons, to 
 be carried on by them for the purpose of maintaining, supporting, and 
 educating, themselves and the rest of the family. The income from the 
 business, however, does not appear to have been sufficient for the purpose, 
 even before the father's death ; for at an early date Mrs. Walker was 
 engaged in laying the foundations of a business as embroidress, which 
 afterwards became for a time the family's chief support. 
 
 Of Walker's school days there is little to be said. It appears from 
 a prize book that he was at " Cleveland Academy " (wherever that may 
 have been) in 1851 ; though his principal schooling was at the North 
 London Collegiate School, where he was during the latter half of 1853, 
 but for how long before and after that date, I cannot say. A school 
 copv pencil drawing, dated in that year, is in existence ; and its possessor 
 remembers seeing a drawing of the interior of the schoolroom with boys 
 at work, done by Walker about the same time. In addition to his 
 fondness for drawing, he was also very ingeniously and mechanically 
 inclined ; making cardboard models of hansom and four-wheeled cabs, 
 an electrical machine, and similar things, as boys of a constructive turn 
 of mind will. There are abundant evidences, both in his school days 
 and at other times, that the passion for drawing was strong in him from 
 his youth up. His earliest attempts at anything like systematic art 
 training appear to have taken the form of copying wood engravings 
 from the illustrated papers. An early letter, written from the sea-side 
 in June 1854, asks for "the picture of 'The Turkish Coffee House' 
 which I was doing, and the Cassell's paper from which I copied it " ; and 
 the habit of making more or less use of wood engravings in the study 
 of his art was kept up by him for some years later, and probably con- 
 tributed not a little to his success as a draughtsman on wood. Many, 
 if not most, of the drawings done in this way were in pen and ink ; 
 and he would also make original drawings of subjects that struck his 
 fancy — a beggar in the street, a scene from a novel — and in the time of 
 the Crimean War, many battle scenes ; which last is a little unexpected, 
 in view of what the late Mr. J. E. Hodgson, R.A., tells us (Cassell's 
 Magazine of Art^ Sept. 1889) ; that among his " strange whims " was 
 " a hatred of soldiers." 
 
 He is described at this time as a very thoughtful and rather 
 silent boy, fond of long solitary walks. In his holidays he would take 
 some food with him, and be away all day long on a country ramble. 
 
EARLY YEARS FREDERICK WALKER 3 
 
 There are early indications of that nervous susceptibility which showed 
 itself in various ways in his later years. When about twelve years of 
 age he occasionally walked in his sleep, and was once so found opening 
 a window with the idea of going to the Gymnasium at Primrose Hill. 
 The letter above mentioned speaks of his not going to sleep for " I don't 
 know how long " ; and a frequent inability to sleep was not confined to 
 his earlier years. Among the drawings by Walker in the possession of my 
 eldest brother, Mr. H. S. Marks, R.A., is one of himself huddled up in 
 a blanket before the open bedroom window of his lodgings at Swanage 
 (where he was with my brother in 1863), entitled, a little pathetically to 
 those who knew the true meaning. So Early in the Morning. 
 
 Some time in 1855, when Walker was about fifteen years of age, he 
 made his first start in life, being placed in the office of Mr. Baker, an 
 architect of Gower Street. The ruling passion would, however, assert 
 itself ; and if at any time there was an idea of this opening eventually 
 leading to his following architecture as a profession, it was not long 
 before such idea was abandoned. Mr. T. Harris, F.R.I. B. A., of 
 6, Southampton Street, who joined Mr. Baker for twelve months in 
 1856, and who had Walker constantly under his charge during that 
 time, tells me that though no one could do an architectural drawing 
 better than Walker when he gave his mind to it, he was always making 
 drawings, on his own account, of things that he had seen in his daily 
 walks. So clearly indeed was art his vocation, that he, Mr. Harris, 
 encouraged rather than checked him in this unofficial work, and urged 
 him to betake himself to serious study. Mr. Harris has several of the 
 drawings done at this time, and evidently retains nothing but pleasant 
 remembrances of Walker's simple, boyish ways while in his employ. 
 
 In all probability this placing the boy in Mr. Baker's office was more 
 the outcome of necessity than choice. When he left the Collegiate School, 
 the question of his following art as a profession had been under serious con- 
 sideration, but the difficulty was how to manage this without his being a 
 burden on his mother during the time of study. It was suggested that 
 he should be apprenticed to a lithographer, with whom, it was thought, he 
 might improve himself in drawing, and at the same time earn something 
 towards his own living ; and though this suggestion was not carried out, 
 his going to Mr. Baker's must be looked on rather as an attempt in 
 another way to solve the difficulty, than as showing any abandonment of 
 the idea of his becoming an artist, either on his own part, or on that of 
 his advisers. So he went on drawing in a desultory way at home and at 
 the office, and in the spring of 1856 appears to have submitted some of 
 his drawings to the inspection of Mr. Maclise. 
 
 I have not been able definitely to fix the length of his sojourn with 
 Messrs. Baker and Harris ; but it must have been somewhere between 
 eighteen months and two years, as he continued in the office till the 
 beginning of 1857 ; when, owing no doubt to the suggestions of Mr. 
 Harris and others, he took a further step towards the attainment of his 
 hopes. 
 
 It may well be thought what anxious consultations there were before 
 
 B 2 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. I 
 
 it was finally decided that he was seriously to enter on the career of an 
 artist. His mother had enough to do to maintain those who were 
 dependent on her, and must have looked forward to the time when this 
 other son should, by his exertions, partly relieve her of her burden. The 
 pursuit of art, too, at that time, whatever it may have been since, was 
 not looked on as offering much more than a bare livelihood, and there 
 were all the long years of study before even this could be reached. But 
 the bent of the boy's genius was too strong to be withstood. After much 
 consideration, and not a few misgivings, the die was finally cast, he left 
 the office with its lenient rule, began drawing at the British Museum, and 
 
 entered Mr. Leigh's studio in Newman Street. The influence of these 
 early studies at the British Museum was felt by Walker to the end of 
 his life. 
 
 There are still many to whom the mention of " Leigh's studio" calls 
 up affectionate remembrances of the master. He was a grand old fellow, 
 brusque in manner, but with the kindest of hearts ; sturdy and indepen- 
 dent to a degree that often militated against his pecuniary interests, 
 sternly repressive of anything like conceit, but full of kindly help to 
 those who needed it, and who sought it in the right way. It has been 
 
EARLY YEARS FREDERICK WALKER 5 
 
 truly said that, in its time, his studio turned out more artists of mark 
 than the Royal Academy itself ; and though he could be severely and 
 epigrammatically satirical over their shortcomings, most of the students 
 loved him, and looked with affection at the stalwart figure in the black 
 velvet gown and skull-cap, as, with long clay pipe in hand, it paused 
 among them at their work in the gas-lighted gallery. There were few 
 who knew him but felt they had lost a friend, when, a few years later 
 than the time of which I write, he died after a painful illness borne 
 heroically to the very end. 
 
 A few months after he joined Leigh's, Walker was seeking admission 
 as a student at the Royal Academy. In June of this year, 1857, he 
 writes from North Cave in Yorkshire, where he had gone for a holiday, 
 hoping that those at home would not forget to send in his Academy 
 drawing. He appears, too, to have again sought the advice of Mr. 
 Maclise ; as, according to a letter from that painter, dated in pencil, in 
 another hand, July 7, 1857, "Mr. Maclise will be glad to look at any 
 drawings Mr. Frederick Walker may bring him on Friday morning next 
 at 1 1 o'clock." On the first occasion mentioned above, Maclise seems 
 to have refrained from giving advice, though admitting that the drawings 
 showed talent ; but there is no record of what his opinion may have 
 been on this second occasion. 
 
 Walker still continued for some time drawing at the British Museum 
 during the day, working at Leigh's in the evening. It was at the latter 
 place I, myself a student, first met him in the summer or autumn of 
 this year. I fancy I must have seen him occasionally for some time 
 before we spoke, but I quite remember his coming up to me one evening, 
 and speaking in the quick, eager way which those who did not know 
 him so often attributed to conceit. It was a mutual love of fishing 
 more than art that led to the beginning of our friendship. He was 
 one evening telling me of some fishing excursion at West Drayton, and 
 so it came about that we arranged to go there on an early day in 
 December, After a pleasant day's outing, at his invitation I accom- 
 panied him home to 7, Charles Street, Manchester Square (now merged 
 in George Street), where he was then living, and there first saw his 
 mother and sisters, among the latter her who afterwards became my wife. 
 Of her it is no part of the purpose of this book to speak. No life of 
 Walker would, however, be complete without full mention of his mother. 
 Though some idea of her character will, I trust, be gathered from the 
 following pages, I may perhaps be permitted a few words here as to my 
 own opinion of her worth. She was one of those women whom it is a 
 privilege to know ; one of those who raise one's estimate of humanity. 
 Through sorrow she had learnt a chastened wisdom ; to her, indeed, 
 sweet were the uses of adversity, and not to her alone but, through her, 
 to all who had the benefit of her guidance and counsels. She was of a 
 retiring nature, and only opened her heart to those she felt she might 
 trust — mostly those of her home circle — and in the love, the devotion, 
 the veneration, of that circle she found her best reward. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 1858— 1859 
 
 Though it has been said by some that Walker was not a diligent 
 student, it may be questioned whether he could fairly be called an idle 
 one. It is true that he was never regular in his attendance either at 
 Leigh's or afterwards at the Langham Chambers Society ; but at the 
 same time he certainly, in one way or another, did a great deal of work 
 that never met the eyes of his fellow-students. He could, moreover, 
 almost without putting hand to paper, and merely by making use of 
 his eyes, get as much good out of a cast or model as his less gifted 
 fellows by their laboriously stippled drawings. Probably few artists who 
 have attended any school have had less in the way of student work to 
 show. But I believe it may be said that at this time, as was certainly 
 the case later, his art was continually present to him during his waking 
 hours, and he was ever learning in his own way, though with little 
 outward result as yet. I fear he fell short of Mr. Leigh's ideal of a 
 student. A letter from his eldest brother, early in 1858, speaks of his 
 having incurred Leigh's disapprobation, and more than hints that the 
 reason was to be found in his not having shown application and 
 perseverance. There are besides, other letters with urgent exhortations 
 to him to work ; and though this tends to support the charge of idle- 
 ness, it may probably be accounted for by the anxiety of his family to 
 see him begin to earn his' own living, and the fear they had lest, in 
 following art, he might possibly have made a false step on the road to 
 that desirable end. That his mother was not altogether without anxiety 
 as to his future at this time, there is no doubt. I remember her earnestly 
 asking me, in the early days of our friendship, if I thought he would 
 succeed ; and though there is no credit to be taken to one's self on such a 
 score, it is a satisfaction to me now to think that I unhesitatingly gave 
 my opinion in the affirmative. 
 
 On March 31, 1858, whether as a result of the drawing mentioned 
 above or not, I cannot say. Walker was admitted as a student to the 
 Royal Academy ; but of what he did there I have no personal know- 
 ledge. I believe he was no more a regular attendant there than at 
 Leigh's. Mr. Tom Taylor, in his preface to the Catalogue of the 
 Exhibition of Walker's works at Mr. Deschamps' Gallery in 1876, says 
 he never even reached the Life classes, and this is very probably the fact. 
 He drew from the life at Leigh's, but in the same fitful way as from the 
 antique ; and indeed, it does not seem that he owed much to any 
 
1858-59 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER 7 
 
 school training. But in the autumn of the year of his admission to the 
 Royal Academy, he was contemplating a step that was fraught with 
 benefit to him ; both as inducing a more settled habit of work, and as 
 affording that practice in black and white which has proved of such 
 inestimable value to many artists. After a good deal of consideration 
 and much seeking of advice, he was, on November 10, 1858, apprenticed 
 to Mr. J. W. Whymper, the wood engraver, of No. 20, Canterbury 
 Place, Lambeth, and worked there three days a week for two years. 
 
 Here he began to acquire that art of drawing on wood, to the advance- 
 ment of which, it may fairly be said, he contributed not a little. It was 
 here, too, he met Mr. J. W. North, A.R.A. (his junior by some eighteen 
 months), with whom he was afterwards in close companionship while 
 painting several important, and many minor, works. Mr. Charles 
 Green, R.I., was another of his fellow- workers. 
 
 Of the drawings he made at Mr. Whymper's, there is probably now 
 no trace. Those that were done for publication have all been used or 
 
8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ii 
 
 have disappeared long since. Mr, Edward Whymper, of Alpine fame, 
 tells me he has nothing in his possession that Walker drew at this time. 
 Such sketches as he made for his drawings — preliminary designs, &c. — 
 he invariably used to tear up, and all efforts to get possession of them 
 beforehand were unavailing. They would, of course, only be interesting 
 as showing his progress ; and for that purpose there are enough early 
 drawings to be found in the pages of Once a Week for the year i860, 
 and later. 
 
 Walker was now regularly employed for three days in the week, 
 having the rest of the week at his own disposal. Some time before his 
 apprenticeship to Mr. Whymper, he seems to have taken to oil colours, 
 for early in 1858 he writes : " I go in for painting at Leigh's, and I may 
 fairly say it diddles me completely." Even earlier than this he had been 
 gradually feeling his way in water colours, though the greater part of his 
 home work now, and for the next year or so, was with the pen or pencil. 
 There are drawings still in existence, of a period a little later than that at 
 which we have arrived, showing much careful work, and great delicacy of 
 touch. In some of them the influence upon him of other men's work is 
 clearly apparent. I have one that strongly recalls Sir John Tenniel, 
 and another appears to have been inspired by Sir John Gilbert. But 
 there was never anything like a slavish following of the methods of 
 others, nor indeed any perceptible following at all for more than a 
 limited period. He seems to have been able just to take what he wanted 
 from any particular source, and then having made it his own, and 
 added something to his stock of knowledge, to go on working without 
 trace in his work of the source whence this added knowledge was 
 derived. 
 
 It was this habit of his of watching for and taking hold of everything 
 and anything that might be useful to him in his art, that appears to me 
 to largely qualify the notion that he was wanting in industry. As an 
 instance of his power of turning things to account, a circumstance may 
 be mentioned that occurred some three or four years later. Among 
 a series of wood drawings which he did for Messrs. Dalziel Bros, after 
 he had left Mr. Whymper's, there is one of a fishmonger, at the door 
 of a cottage, receiving payment from a little boy ; and on one side 
 of the drawing there is a clump of jasmine growing up the front of the 
 house. The original of this jasmine Walker had seen in Mr. Whymper's 
 back yard in Canterbury Place, during his apprenticeship ; and though 
 it must have been fully two years since, in all probability, he had set 
 eyes on it, he remembered it when making this drawing, and went 
 expressly, block in hand, to draw it — a dirty old bit of jasmine in a 
 London back yard. 
 
 It is impossible, at this distance of time, to trace every step by which 
 Walker was fitting himself for his after work. It must, however, have 
 been somewhere about the year 1859, that he began making those 
 drawings in Indian ink which were the forerunners of his serious efforts 
 in water colour. That he deliberately adopted this method as best 
 
1858-59 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 The Fishmonger. 
 
TO 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. II 
 
 calculated to impart facility with the brush cannot be affirmed, but 
 it would appear to be more than probable. He was regularly working 
 with the pencil in black and white on the wood ; and it may well have 
 seemed advisable to him, while still retaining the practice in light and 
 shade which such work afforded, to add thereto the use of the brush, 
 apart from the distractions of colour. If this were his idea, it was 
 more than justified by the exquisite delicacy of his subsequent water 
 colours. 
 
 F.iVa/ht^ 
 
 The Secret— (Langham Sketch). 
 
 Some time in 1859, he left Leigh's and joined the Artists' Society in 
 Langham Chambers (commonly called " The Langham "), and there 
 met many of those who were amongst his warmest admirers and truest 
 well-wishers in after years. The Langham at that time, but for the 
 absence of teachers, stood in something the same relation to Leigh's 
 that the universities do to the schools ; and study there formed a regular 
 part of the curriculum of many of Leigh's old students. Those, too, 
 who had got beyond their student days, and were beginning to make 
 a name for themselves, would often revisit their old haunts ; and so 
 acquaintances were made, and friendships formed, and much pleasant 
 talk of the distinctly " shoppy " order went on, not altogether without 
 profit. It was, and I believe still is, a society of artists and amateurs 
 
1858-59 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 1 1 
 
 formed chiefly for study from the life. There were, too, nights at 
 regular intervals when sketches were made by the members from 
 subjects given out at the preceding sketching meeting, the time for 
 the production of these sketches being limited to two hours. At the end 
 of this time, the drawings and paintings of those who cared to show 
 them were collected, and a little exhibition held of the results of the two 
 hours' work. At these meetings Walker was a pretty regular attendant, 
 and his quiet, homely way of treating the subjects, as well as his method 
 of work, must still be in the remembrance of many. Some of these 
 sketches formed the subjects of his earliest finished water colours, for it 
 was his habit to make all the use of his ideas he could ; and having 
 given time and thought to the composition of a subject, he did not care, 
 if a good one, to throw it aside, but would carry it as far as his skill at 
 the time allowed. 
 
 Study for Blackberrying. 
 
 There had been somewhat similar sketching evenings at Leigh's, 
 preceded sometimes by a lesson in perspective. Of one of these evenings 
 Walker writes : — " To-morrow is the sketching night, but I cannot go 
 till past 8 by reason of the perspective. What fearful meaning is in that 
 little word." 
 
 In October of this year, for the greater convenience of his work when 
 not at Whymper's, he joined a fellow-student in taking a room as a 
 studio in Great Portland Street, staying there, however, only till the 
 following summer. In December, he was sent by Mr. Whymper to 
 make sketches at the house of Mr. Assheton Smith, Tedworth, Hamp- 
 
12 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. ii 
 
 shire, which were engraved for the biography of Mr. Smith published by 
 Murray. In a letter from Tedworth, he speaks of working at what he 
 calls " that infernal hunting picture." He also mentions having done 
 The Wrecks on wood (a boy, with clasped hands, kneeling on a sea- 
 washed deck), to show the Once a Week people, and says the Langhamites 
 were very pleased with the drawing when he took it to show them. 
 So at this time he was beginning to set about getting work on his own 
 account, and was so far successful that The Wrecks under another title, 
 appeared in the number of Once a Week for February 25, i860. There 
 was method, too, in his plans for the future, for the same letter says : — 
 " I am busy now, and shall be ; and for the future shall look to making 
 more by wood drawing than painting, till I have advanced in practice to 
 that extent, that I can rely on painting with safety." And thus, with 
 many difficulties overcome, and a fair prospect of further conquests, the 
 year 1859 closed for him. 
 
 The Brook — (Langham Sketch). 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 i860 
 
 Whatever doubts there may have been as to the wisdom of 
 Walker's choice of a profession, they must by this time have been set at 
 rest ; for, from the year i860 onward, his progress, if not phenomenally 
 rapid, was steady and secure. Though he continued occasionally to draw 
 on wood for some years after 1864, the five years from the beginning of 
 i860 to the end of 1864 may broadly be stated as the time during which 
 he worked for the wood engraver, and won a name as one among the first, 
 if not himself the very first, of our illustrators of books. Of his work 
 in this kind as shown at the exhibition held in January, 1876, after his 
 death, it was said by a brother artist, " There is enough here to make any 
 man's fame " ; and though, to some, this may seem too high praise, 
 I believe a careful study of the wood drawings of the time will result in 
 a true appreciation of Walker's influence on the art, and show the 
 observation to have been just. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Swain, the wood engraver, who engraved the greater part 
 of Walker's wood drawings, and to whom and to whose paper on Walker 
 in the number of Good Words for July, 1888, I am indebted for some 
 interesting details, tells me that towards the end of 1859, when he (Mr. 
 Swain) was engaged upon and had the management of the illustrations 
 for Once a Week^ Walker called on him seeking employment as a 
 draughtsman on wood. Mr. Swain saw at once that he was capable of 
 doing good work ; and either at that interview, or shortly afterwards, gave 
 him the poem of 'The Wreck to illustrate ; the drawing for which, as 
 mentioned in the last chapter. Walker speaks of having done to show the 
 Once a Week people. Mr. Samuel Lucas, the then editor, was pleased 
 with the drawing, and on February 18, i860, under the title of Peasant 
 Proprietorships there appeared the first of a long series of drawings by the 
 young artist's hand — 'The Wrecks under the title of God help our Men at 
 Sea^ appearing in the number for the week following, as has been said. 
 Walker's very first illustrations, consequent on his visit to Mr. Swain, had 
 appeared a little before this ; one in the number of Everybody's Journal 
 for January 14, i860, and another in 'The Leisure Hour about the same 
 time. Of a figure from the illustration for Everybody' s Journal. Mr 
 
H 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. Ill 
 
 Swain gives an engraving in the number of Good Words referred to above, 
 and speaks of it as containing indications of some of those excellences 
 which afterwards made Walker famous. 
 
 At Mr. Whymper's, where Walker had now been employed rather more 
 than a year, he was engaged in copying and making small designs, many of 
 which appeared in the publications of the Christian Knowledge Society. 
 Apart from his natural desire to improve his position, it must have been 
 a great relief to him to find in Once a Week a larger field for the exercise 
 
 The Fire — (Langham Sketch). 
 
 of those powers which were growing stronger in him day by day. 
 Millais, Tenniel, John Leech, Charles Keene, and many other of our 
 best artists, were drawing for that journal, and it was no slight thing for 
 Walker to have gained a footing amongst them. That he made good use 
 of his opportunities, the pages of Once a Week will show. In them may 
 be traced his steady progress and gradual mastery over the difficulties of 
 the art, though his highest achievements in this line must be sought for 
 later in the Cornhill Magazine. Once a Week from February, i860, to 
 September 1863, with one drawing — The Vagrants — in January, 1866 ; 
 
i86o 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 15 
 
 Good Words for March, June, and November, 1862, and from January 
 to August, 1864 ; the Cornhill Ma^a-zine from February, 1861, to June, 
 1864, again from July, 1866, till November, 1868, with one drawing in 
 July, 1869 ; and some drawings done specially for Messrs. Dalziel Bros., 
 which will presently be referred to, will show nearly all the work he did 
 for the wood engraver. 
 
 jKm ' m I M.K ii^ i 
 
 Oi.D Age — (Langham Sketch). 
 
 Many of the early drawings show no very special power, and bear 
 traces moreover of a want of sympathy with the subject, or of having 
 been done against time ; Walker not being altogether free from the sin 
 of a careless ordering of his work, which caused him no little trouble, 
 and brought many an anxious pang to the breasts of the expectant wood 
 engraver and publisher. But it is interesting to note the difference in 
 other drawings where his fancy had freer play, or where the greater im- 
 portance of the tale gave a keener zest to his efforts. As Mr, J. Comyns 
 Carr has well observed in his Essays on Art : — " Here and there, in a 
 drawing of only modest pretensions, the eye is suddenly arrested by some 
 passage of subtle beauty : the expression of a childish face, the turn of a 
 head, or some fortunate choice of gesture which seems new in art though 
 
i6 
 
 LIFE JI^B LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. Ill 
 
 familiar enough in nature, — these are the slight indications that already 
 give notice of the existence in Walker of a special power of drawing 
 from reality some secret of beauty that escapes common observation." 
 
 After the appearance of his first drawing in Once a Week^ Walker 
 was regularly employed as one of the illustrators of that periodical. For 
 nearly twelve months, apart from his engagement with Mr. Whymper, 
 his drawings on wood were confined to its pages. In the spring of this 
 year there was a ;^ioo prize competition for drawings illustrating 
 Tennyson's Idylls of the King., and into this competition Walker was very 
 strongly urged to enter. Probably from want of time, he does not 
 appear to have thrown much heart into the affair, as after making 
 sketches, and finishing one drawing, the idea was abandoned. He was 
 now, too, receiving little commissions for water colour drawings at 
 moderate prices ; and, considering the limited time that he could call his 
 own, it is not surprising to learn from a letter of his in May of this year : — 
 " I am deluged with work now, and must put the steam on in earnest." 
 Of the water colour drawings executed in this year, I have been able to 
 trace : The Fight., Blackberry ing., The Cottage Door., The Cosy Couple^ The 
 Peep Show (from a sketch made at the Langham), The New Boy^ and 
 The Angler s Return (also from a Langham sketch) ; this last selling for 
 the respectable sum, for Walker at that time, of forty guineas. 
 
 The Angler's Return — (Langham Sketch.) 
 
i86o 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 17 
 
 The term of his apprenticeship to Mr. Whymper was now, in the 
 autumn of i860, drawing to a close. In November, amid the good 
 wishes of his fellow-workers, he was free to employ his time in his own 
 way. His two years at Canterbury Place, though doubtless to one of 
 his temperament irksome enough in their regular and business-like 
 demands on his application, had been of great service to him ; and formed 
 for him the nearest approach to that close and continuous training, which 
 less gifted mortals find essential to the development of their powers. 
 
 The I'KKi' Show — (Langham Sketch). 
 
 With his talent, Walker, in all probability, would have arrived at the 
 same result, had he been left to his own devices ; but, however this~ may 
 be, the fact remains that the end of his term found him with his progress 
 established on a firm and enduring basis. He had entered Mr. Whymper's 
 a mere student, he had now become an apt exponent of his craft. He 
 had acquired the means of earning his own living, and, what I doubt not 
 he valued more, the means of lightening his mother's burden, and smooth- 
 ing her path in life. In other ways, too, he was a joy to her ; and, an 
 
 c 
 
t8 life and LErrERS OF CHAP, iii 
 
 exception to the general rule, was not without honour in his own country, 
 and in his own house. In the letters of the home circle at this time 
 there occur such sentences as these : — " It is pleasant to see that he seems 
 to keep his friends, and that every one likes him. Well it would be odd 
 if it were not so, as he certainly is as good as he is clever " ; and again : 
 " What a blessing Fred is ; everything connected with him seems per- 
 fectly satisfactory." " He has only to go on so and he must be famous, 
 if that is so very desirable. What is better still, he will be honoured 
 and respected." Though I believe the truest estimate of his character 
 will be formed by the perusal of his own letters in the following pages, 
 it is perhaps not out of place here to give these evidences of the regard 
 in which he was held by those who knew him best. 
 
 Soon after leaving Mr. Whymper's — towards the end of i860 — 
 Walker and Thackeray first met, and their acquaintance afterwards 
 ripened into a friendship that was perhaps more highly valued by Walker 
 than any that he ever formed. Thackeray was at this time engaged in 
 the preparation of his novel, The Adventures of Philip on his Way through 
 the Worlds the first instalment of which was to appear in the Cornhill 
 Magazine for January, 1861 ; and, in accordance with his usual custom, 
 was illustrating the story with his own hand. The small designs — initial 
 letters, &c. — Thackeray would put on the wood himself. For the large 
 illustrations, he used to send sketches on paper to Mr. Swain, who 
 ■employed different artists to draw them on the wood, and make such 
 little improvements in the drawing as Thackeray, who was very jealous 
 of any alteration of his sketches, would allow. It occurred to Mr. 
 Swain to suggest that Walker should do some of this copying. Walker 
 accordingly (though, as afterwards appears, more with the hope of getting 
 original work) called at the office of the Cornhill Magazine^ with some 
 of his drawings. Mr. George Smith, of Messrs. Smith, Elder, and Co., 
 has kindly given me an account of his meeting with Walker, and the 
 subsequent introduction to Thackeray, as follows : — 
 
 " At that period my time was very fully occupied, and in order to 
 prevent interruption, my room at 65, Cornhill was carefully guarded 
 from intrusion. On one occasion, when leaving my room, I saw 
 a young gentleman quitting the outer office, whose appearance 
 attracted my attention ; I inquired who he was, and was told by 
 the clerk, who acted the part of Dragon, that he was a young 
 artist of the name of Walker, who wished to draw for the 
 Cornhill Magazine^ and who had called before with specimens of his 
 drawings. ' He is a mere boy,' said the clerk ; ' I told him you were 
 engaged, as I did not think it would be of any use for you to see him.' 
 I said I would see him if he called again. About this time Mr. 
 Thackeray was beginning to find it troublesome to draw on the wood 
 the illustrations for "The Adventures of Philip, which was then passing 
 through the Magazine, and two or three of the drawings had been made 
 on paper, and afterwards redrawn on wood, but not to Mr. Thackeray's 
 satisfaction. 
 
i860 FREDERICK WALKER 19 
 
 " When Mr. Walker paid another visit to Cornhill, and I saw his 
 drawings, it occurred to me that here was the artist who would redraw 
 Mr. Thackeray's designs satisfactorily. I mentioned the subject to Mr. 
 Walker, and understood him to accept the idea ; but his nervous agitation 
 was almost painful, and although I did my best to set him at his ease, he 
 left 65, Cornhill without my being sure whether my suggestion, that he 
 should make drawings from Mr. Thackeray's designs, was acceptable to 
 him or not. 
 
 '• I mentioned the subject to Mr. Thackeray, who said, 'Bring him 
 here, and we shall soon see whether he can draw.' An arrangement was 
 afterwards made for me to call for Mr. Walker, and drive him to Mr. 
 Thackeray's house in Onslow Square, early one morning, towards the end 
 of i860. The drive was a silent one, Mr. Walker's agitation being very 
 marked. When we went up to Mr. Thackeray, he saw at once how 
 nervous and distressed the young artist was, and addressed himself in the 
 kindest manner to remove his shyness. After a little time he said, ' Can 
 you draw } Mr. Smith says you can.' ' Y-e-e-s, I think so,' said the 
 young man who was, within a few years, to excite the admiration of the 
 whole world by the excellence of his drawings, ' I'm going to 
 shave,' said Mr. Thackeray, ' would you mind drawing my back } ' 
 Mr. Thackeray went to his toilet table and commenced the operation, 
 while Mr. Walker took a sheet of paper and began his drawing ; 
 I looking out of the window in order that he might not feel that he 
 was being watched. I think Mr. Thackeray's idea of turning his back 
 towards him was as ingenious as it was kind ; for I believe that if Mr. 
 Walker had been asked to draw his face instead of his back, he would 
 hardly have been able to hold his pencil." 
 
 It is interesting to read the following note of Thackeray's account 
 of this interview, which Mrs. Richmond Ritchie (Miss Thackeray) has 
 kindly given me. " My father told me one day, with interest, that a 
 very clever young fellow had been to see him, offering to draw for the 
 Cornhill Magazine. My father had asked him whether he could draw, 
 and when Mr. Walker modestly said ' Yes, he could draw,' my father, 
 who was dressing at the time up in his own room, said, ' Well, draw my 
 back,' and turned round to the glass over the chimney and began to 
 shave, and so the drawing was done." 
 
 Of the merits of the drawing made under these rather trying circum- 
 stances, and indeed of the drawing itself, Mr. Smith has no recollection. 
 The result was presumably satisfactory to Thackeray, as he soon after- 
 wards asked Walker to make a second drawing of his back, as a study for 
 the initial letter of Roundabout Papers^ No. 10, in the Cornhill Magazine 
 for February, 1861 ; the design for the illustration being supplied by 
 Thackeray in a rough sketch on an envelope. This second drawing 
 remains in the possession of Mrs. Richmond Ritchie. Of it she says : — 
 *' It is wonderfully like him — I sometimes think more like than anything 
 else I have ever seen." The completed woodcut is the first of Walker's 
 which appeared in the Cornhill Magazine ; and it may be noted in 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. Ill 
 
 passing that in an article in Scribner s 
 Magazine for June, 1880, on Thackeray 
 as a Draughtsman^ it is wrongly attri- 
 buted to Thackeray, and spoken of as 
 probably his last portrait of himself. 
 
 As has been said, the first instal- 
 ment of Philip appeared in January, 
 1 86 1, and the large illustrations for that 
 month and the next, though evidently 
 from Thackeray's sketches, show traces 
 here and there of a more practised 
 hand, and may have been put on the 
 wood by Walker. That this was the 
 case with the large illustration for 
 March — The Old Fogies — there is no 
 question ; the drawing itself proves it 
 beyond a doubt. It is to this draw- 
 ing that the following letter from 
 Thackeray, though not wholly in his 
 handwriting, refers : — 
 
 " 36 Onslow Square, S.W. 
 " Jan. 21, 1861. 
 
 *' Dear Sir, — Can you copy the 
 faces on this block as accurately as may 
 be on to another block, improve the 
 drawing of the figures, furniture, and 
 make me a presentable design for wood 
 
 engravmg 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 " W. M. Thackeray. 
 
 " The less work the better. The two tumblers touching each other — 
 the old man red-nosed and a wig. The young man, light hair, large 
 whiskers, moustache." 
 
 But this was not the kind of work that suited Walker, nor that 
 which he had in view in submitting his drawings to Mr. Smith. Accord- 
 ingly we find Thackeray writing on February 11 , by the hand of his 
 secretary : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, — The Blocks you have executed for the Cornhill Magazine 
 have given so much satisfaction that I hope we may look for more from 
 the same hand. You told me that the early days of the week were most 
 convenient for you, and accordingly I sent last Monday, or Tuesday, a 
 
i86o FREDERICK fFJLKER 21 
 
 couple of designs which, as you would not do them, I was obliged to 
 confide to an older, and I grieve to own, much inferior artist. Pray 
 let me know if I may count upon you for my large cut for March. 
 
 *' Believe me, very faithfully yours, 
 
 " W. M. Thackeray." 
 
 To this letter Walker made the following reply, as I find by a copy 
 in his mother's handwriting : — 
 
 " 7 Charles St. 
 
 " Fek 13, 1 861. 
 
 " Sir, — When I submitted designs for your inspection, I was in 
 great hopes of obtaining some original work for the Cornhill Magazine^ 
 and although I am gratified to hear that the sketches I rendered on 
 the wood are satisfactory, I confess such work is distasteful to me, 
 and I think not calculated to really benefit me. I therefore respectfully 
 solicit that whatever directions you may favour me with, they may be 
 consonant to the wish I had in originally applying to you. 
 
 " I beg to remain, 
 
 " Yours most obediently, 
 
 "F. Walker." 
 
 Those who knew Walker can well imagine what a turmoil there must 
 have been before this letter was written. It will be noticed that 
 Thackeray's question as to the *' large cut for March" remains un- 
 answered, and there is, moreover, an awkwardness about the letter 
 generally, indicative of the struggle between his wish not to offend one 
 whom he greatly respected, and his feeling of what was due to himself. 
 In his difficulty, he betook himself to Mr. Smith, whose account of the 
 interview is as follows : — 
 
 " He afterwards came to me, apparently under some excitement, and 
 said at once, without a word of introduction, * I am not going to do any 
 more of this work.' I naturally inquired what was the matter, and 
 asked if he was dissatisfied with the payment he received. ' No, he was 
 <juite satisfied, but it was not original work, and his friends told him he 
 could do original work, and that he ought to do it, and not copy other 
 people's designs, which any fool could do who could draw.' I said 
 I would speak to Mr. Thackeray on the subject, if it were clearly under- 
 stood that he would be willing to make the illustrations from proofs of 
 the story, and that he would listen to verbal suggestions from Mr. 
 Thackeray as to the subjects to be illustrated and their treatment. I 
 felt it necessary to expatiate on the fact that this would in no way 
 derogate from the originality of his drawings. Mr. Thackeray, who 
 had by this time conceived a high opinion of Mr, Walker's ability as 
 an artist, was glad to accept this arrangement ; but the illustration for 
 
22 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. Ill 
 
 the next part of Philips published in April, 1861, was not drawn by- 
 Walker." 
 
 Throughout these negotiations, one cannot but remark the kind- 
 ness — I may say gentleness — with which the great novelist, in the height 
 of his world-wide reputation, treated the young and almost unknown 
 artist. It is small wonder that Walker's attachment to Thackeray 
 became as ardent as it did. Nor was his kindness confined to words ; 
 
 (%^ J/f 1 
 
 
 for, from this time forward, Thackeray took the greatest interest in 
 Walker, introduced him to many of his friends, and received him 
 constantly at his house. 
 
 The large illustration to Philip for April is clearly from the hand of 
 the " older, and I grieve to own, much inferior artist " (who, the reader 
 will have guessed, was Thackeray himself) ; but all difficulties having 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 23 
 
 A QUA'^REL. 
 
24 LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, hi 
 
 now been arranged, that for May — Nurse and Doctor — duly appeared 
 signed with the familiar FW, and to the end of the series (August, 
 1862) Thackeray was content merely to indicate, by slight sketches, 
 and a few explanatory words, his idea of the form the illustrations should 
 take. 
 
 These suggestions of Thackeray's are full of interest, both in them- 
 selves, and as showing the terms on which author and artist worked 
 together. The first I have relates to the July, 1861, illustration — Good 
 Samaritans — which Thackeray is satisfied to leave in Walker's hands, with 
 no more guidance (beyond the proofs of the story) than a very slight pen 
 and ink sketch with the words, '' Then you must be hungry, and shall 
 have my piece of cake," and a note : — " Dear Mr. Walker, I think this 
 will make as good a subject as another. The three or four children 
 ad libitum, Mrs. Pendennis, Bandeaux, Madonna ; Mr. P. round face, no 
 moustache ; Mrs. Pendennis making breakfast, two or three children. 
 Pendennis reading the newspaper. Philip just come into breakfast-room." 
 For the illustration for October — A duarrel — on half a sheet of note- 
 paper bearing the stamp of the Brighton and Sussex Club, and headed, 
 *' For Mr. Walker " ; there is a small pencil-sketch of Lord Ringwood, 
 with the words : " L.ord Ringwood dressed in an old-fashioned tail coat of 
 1824 date. High stock and collar " ; a note : " Lord Ringwood on his 
 sofa in the gout. Philip puts on his hat and makes him a bow" ; while 
 underneath, in a rough pen and ink sketch, Thackeray gives his idea of 
 the general design. For the illustration for March, 1862 — A Letter from 
 New York — Thackeray has written out, on one side of a sheet of note- 
 paper, about twenty lines of the end of Chapter 31 ; and on the 
 other, made a slight sketch, underneath which is written : — " Children 
 laughing at school-room door. Philip and Charlotte reading the letter." 
 With regard to the ending of this Chapter 31, it may be said in passing 
 that both in the manuscript I have mentioned, and as printed in the 
 magazine, the concluding words are : — '' There was a pretty group 
 for the children to see, and for Mr. Walker to draw " ; a pleasing proof 
 of Thackeray's kindly wish to give Walker a helping hand. I have 
 noticed with regret that in some subsequent editions, published after 
 Thackeray's death, this has been altered to: "and for an artist to 
 draw." 
 
 Another of these suggestions refers to the illustration for April, 1862 
 ■ — Mugford's Favourite — and represents : " Old gentleman in thick shoes 
 scratching a pig's back over a pig-stye railing in his garden. Philip 
 disgusted. Background, trees, cottages, villas, Hampstead Heath," and 
 headed : " Dear Mr. Walker, Will this do .? " 
 
 But the most interesting of all is a letter, unaccompanied by 
 any sketch, relating to the beautiful drawing of Philip in Church ; 
 which, under the title of Thanksgiving, ended the series in August, 
 1862. The letter is here reproduced, and will appropriately close this 
 chapter. 
 
ihbo 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 1861— 1863 
 
 For the sake of clearness I have continued the account of Walker's 
 connection with Philip to the end of the story, but must now go back 
 a little and pick up such threads as have been missed. 
 
 First of all, in order that those who did not know him may attach 
 some kind of individuality to the mere name of Walker, 1 will en- 
 deavour to give an idea of his personal appearance. He was considerably 
 under the average height — I believe not more than 5 feet i| or 5 feet 2 
 inches — but of an exceedingly well-proportioned figure : good square 
 shoulders, narrow hips, straight legs, and so well set up altogether that 
 his want of height was not as noticeable as it otherwise would have been. 
 An instance of the way in which his appearance struck one is given by 
 Mr. G. D. Leslie, R.A,, in his book Our River ^ where he tells us that 
 an old fisherman at Cookham, who knew Walker well, exclaimed on 
 hearing of his death, '* What, not the little model ! " 
 
 His head, which was of rather a remarkable shape, having a peculiar 
 flatness on the top, and considerable development at the back, was well 
 placed on his shoulders ; the eyes blue, with an earnest, thoughtful, far- 
 seeing look about them ; a broad forehead, with the thick brown hair 
 growing rather low down and having a knack of falling over it ; a well- 
 shaped, straight nose with great breadth between the eyebrows ; the 
 mouth and chin showing firmness and decision ; the possession of which 
 qualities was still further indicated by the massive squareness of the jaw. 
 He was left-handed ; in fact, in some pursuits may be said to have been 
 ambidextrous. Later on than the time of which we are speaking, he 
 wore a moustache, and for the last year or so of his life a full beard as a 
 protection against cold. His figure never lost its slimness, and his keen 
 sight never required any artificial aid. His voice was soft and musical, 
 his speech quick, eager and emphatic ; and though he himself said, " I 
 haven't the gift of the gab," he would talk well when roused or interested 
 in his subject, though but seldom about his art. 
 
 It was in the year i860 that Walker began those visits to his sister 
 and me in our new home at Croydon, that were full of pleasure to us, 
 and of some little advantage to him, inasmuch as, the town at that time 
 not being the overgrown place it has since become, he could readily find 
 countrified little bits useful to him in his work. Many were the 
 
;i-63 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER 27 
 
 pleasant walks we had together, mostly on Sundays, On these walks 
 "the little woodpecker," as he was often called, would frequently have 
 with him an unfinished wood block which he had brought for the 
 purpose of putting in, or noting, something he was in want of at the 
 time. He had a most inveterate habit of biting his nails, and would stop 
 and stand with his fingers to his mouth, looking intently at anything that 
 struck his fancy ; and then perhaps the wood block would be brought 
 out and some additions made to it, though as often as not he had taken 
 in all he wanted in that keen and earnest gaze. On one of these 
 occasions, I remember, he took back with him to town the branch of 
 bramble which figures in the foreground of his first oil picture. The Lost 
 Path^ exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1863. 
 
 A note 1 find of his having gone early 
 in 1 86 1 to draw some graves in Beddington 
 churchyard,- reminds me what a favourite 
 subject that of a boy looking at a man dig- 
 ging a grave was with him, though one 
 which he never carried to completion. 
 There were no fewer than three sketches 
 of this subject in the exhibition held after 
 his death, at Mr. Deschamps' Gallery in 
 New Bond Street, in January-February, 
 1876 (which exhibition I will in future refer 
 to as that of 1876) ; and I have in my 
 possession a discarded water colour, 18 by 
 22 inches, which he had brought to a con- 
 siderable state of forwardness. A branch 
 of the large yew tree in Beddington church- 
 yard and part of the old church are put 
 in with great care ; and though the figures 
 themselves have been nearly obliterated, 
 their positions can still be seen. 
 
 One evening when he came to see us, I 
 happened to have a cow-boy in a smock- 
 frock standing to me for a little water 
 colour I was doing. Walker took his 
 
 colours and a piece of paper, and did a good evening's work ; putting 
 in the whole of the figure with the exception of the bottom of the 
 smock-frock and the feet, and making a thoroughly William Hunt- 
 like study. I think he worked a little on the drawing afterwards, but 
 it remained unfinished for some years ; when one day he cut it out of 
 the frame in which I had placed it, added the feet and a dead bird, 
 and left it in the state in which it was etched by Mons. Raj on. 
 Later on, as will be seen, he did a good deal of other work in the 
 neighbourhood of Croydon. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that since leaving Mr. Whymper he could 
 call his time his own. Walker had not much opportunity for idling. 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, IV 
 
 An Old Boy's Tale. {Ovce a IVeek, April 27, 1861.) 
 
 In addition to being fairly launched on the monthly drawings for 
 the Cornhill Magazine^ he did in 1861, 29 wood drawings for Once a 
 Week besides a few others for Messrs. Dalziel Bros., which appeared in 
 various publications, and several water colour drawings. Of these I have 
 been able to trace : The Fisherman s Wife^ Mushroom Gatherers^ The 
 Wet Day^ The Picture Book, a small portrait group of the wife and three 
 children of Mr. Geo. Smith ; and others mentioned merely as "study" or 
 " sketch." Reference is also made to a drawing of a fisherman and his son 
 finding a drowned sailor on the beach ; but though a sketch in black and 
 white of the fisherman and his son is in existence, I cannot find that the 
 entire composition was ever carried out in colours. This in itself may 
 not seem a very large amount of work ; but, in view of what has been 
 said of Walker's want of method, it is not surprising to come across 
 despairing inquiries as to when drawings would be sent in, complaints of 
 letters remaining unanswered, &c., and to read a playful allusion to the 
 havoc wrought on him by reason of " a certain long seedy man from 
 Dalziel's who lies in wait for me in the passage." 
 
 But, in spite of all such drawbacks, the quality of his work was 
 constantly improving. Every now and then would come a wood drawing 
 like that for The Magnolia for London with Cotton, in Once a Week for 
 March 2, 1 861, or for An Old Boy's Tale in the same journal for April 
 
a -63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 29 
 
 27 (both afterwards reproduced in water colours), which showed what 
 advance was being made. As has been said, his full strength in wood 
 drawing was reserved for the Cornhill Magazine ; but the illustrations to 
 the serial stories, 'The Settlers of Long Arrow^ and The Prodigal Son^ in 
 Once a Week^ and the eight illustrations to Oswald Cray^ in Good Words,, 
 do not, perhaps, fall far short of his best work. As one instance among 
 many of the curious way in which an idea would stay by him, lying 
 dormant as it were, until an opportunity arose of giving it fuller 
 expression, it may be mentioned that the first drawing for The Settlers 
 of Long Arrow — a boy, dripping wet, coming up the beach, having 
 swum ashore from a boat — was in his mind when projecting the large oil 
 picture which he never lived to complete, called The Unknown Land ; 
 and the number of Once a Week containing the drawing was on his 
 studio table at the time of his death, nearly fourteen years after the 
 drawing was made. Those conversant with his after work, too, will 
 notice that we have already a Mushroom Gatherers,, and The Wet Dajy 
 subjects to be more fully developed later. 
 
 
 The Settlers of Long Arrow. {Once a Wee/.; October 12, i86i.)' 
 
30 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, iv 
 
 Apart from his work, there is little to be said of Walker's life at this 
 time. His circle of friends and acquaintance was widening, there were 
 visits to various places in connection with his work, sketching nights at 
 the Langham and the houses of artist friends, but nothing that need 
 detain us. I will, however, just mention that on May 26, 1861, Walker 
 came of age ; and at Christmas of this year I find a characteristic little 
 note of his having made a garland of evergreens with initials in the 
 centre, in honour of my little son's first Christmas. 
 
 In 1862, in addition to 20 wood drawings for Once a Week^ there 
 were 10 for the Cornhill Magazine^ 3 for Good Words^ i for London 
 Society^ and some of a series of independent drawings for Messrs. Dalziel 
 Bros., to which reference has already been made. The choice of the 
 subjects of these independent drawings was to be left to Walker, and it is 
 interesting to see how most of them were of that homely character which 
 marked his earlier work when free to choose his own subject. The titles 
 of the entire series were : — Charity^ The Shower^ The Mystery of the 
 Bellows^ Winter^ Springs The Fishmonger^ Summer^ The Village School^ 
 Autumn^ The Bouquet^ and one other ; and the drawings first appeared in 
 some publications of Messrs. G. Routledge & Sons called Wayside Posies^ 
 and A Round of Days. 
 
 The Fishmonger ^ and Summer are especially worthy of notice — the 
 former as containing the germ of the idea of the water colour, A Fish- 
 monger s Shop., and the latter that of the oil picture of Bathers. 
 
 Of these drawings, Walker reproduced in water colours, either the 
 same size or enlarged, no less than six, viz. : — Spring., Autumn., The 
 Bouquet., Charity., The Village School., and The Shower ; and the original 
 wood blocks of five : — Autumn., The Bouquet., I he Village School., Summer., 
 and The Fishmonger^ were exhibited by Messrs. Dalziel Bros, in the 
 exhibition of 1876. Where the wood block of The Bouquet now is, I do 
 not know ; but in the Print Room of the British Museum may be found 
 The Village School and Autumn., and at South Kensington Museum, 
 Summer (engraved) and The Fishmonger. 
 
 Messrs. Dalziel Bros, were among the first to recognise Walker's 
 talent, not only as a wood draughtsman, but as a water colour painter. 
 It was for them his first important composition in water colours — Strange 
 Faces — was executed towards the end of 1862. For this drawing, his 
 mother, eldest sister, and an uncle, stood to him ; and not only at 
 this time, but for a good many years later, his models were frequently 
 taken from the home circle. Indeed, no man could have received more 
 willing help in everything connected with his work than Walker did from 
 his mother and sisters. It was a labour of love in a double sense — love 
 for him, and love for the art that found expression at his hands. No 
 trouble was too great for them, that would help him to attain his ends. 
 This willing service was accepted by him as freely as it was offered ; 
 accepted not as a personal tribute, but for his art's sake. Later on, when 
 
 ^ See page 9. 
 
1861-63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 31 
 
 Summer 
 
32 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IV 
 
 he was living at Bayswater, his mother would think nothing of a journey 
 to Soho Square to fetch him a tube of colour or anything he might be in 
 want of, this being but one little instance of what went on continually ; 
 and though perhaps there may be some who would see in this acceptance 
 of help a want of consideration bordering on selfishness, it did not so 
 strike those who knew him best, and knew, too, how his own life 
 was given up to the claims of his art. 
 
 It will be remembered that the story of Philip came to an end in 
 August, 1862, and in November of that year appeared the first of those 
 illustrations to Miss Thackeray's stories in the Cornhill^ which gave 
 
 Strange Faces. 
 
 US some of Walker's best work. This first illustration was to The Story 
 of Elizabeth. It was followed by two others, and later on by a frontispiece ; 
 this last — a charming girlish figure standing in front of a rustic porch, 
 and carrying her hat filled with flowers — appearing when the story was 
 published in book form. The combination of the work of authoress and 
 artist thus begun proved a most happy one. It was continued for some 
 years after Walker had ceased to draw for others, and in it his work on 
 wood reached, I believe, its highest point of development. 
 
 After the year 1862 Walker worked much less for the wood 
 engraver. Although it will be necessary to refer again to some of the 
 
1861-63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 ZZ 
 
 drawings, it may perhaps be convenient to give here a list of the 
 remainder of his illustrations for the magazines. In 1863, there were 
 two for Once a IVeek^ and five for the Cornhill ; in 1864, eight for Good 
 
 Out among the Wild Flowers. {Good IVords, November, 1862.) 
 
 IVords {Oswald Cray), and four for the Cornhill; in 1865, none; in 
 1866, one for 0«r^ « tVeek {The Vagrants), and six for the Cornhill; 
 in 1867, four for the Cornhill ; in 1868, three for the same magazine ; 
 
34 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, iv 
 
 and in 1869, one — afterwards reproduced in water colour — for a short 
 story in the Cornhill called Sola. The above list only refers to the 
 large illustrations, and not to initial letters. There were also a drawing 
 of Hogarth and the drummer girl, for a posthumous edition of 
 Thackeray's English Humourists, and two drawings for Punch ; one, 
 The New Bathing Company {Limited), in the Almanack for 1865, 'and 
 Captain Jinks of the " Selfish " and his Friends enjoying themselves on the 
 River, which appeared on August 21, 1869. 
 
 Mr. Swain tells me Walker was one of the first to introduce brush- 
 work into his wood drawing, using the spreading of the brush to give 
 texture, and also producing the same effect by the peculiarity of his lines. 
 He was exceedingly particular as to the way in which the blocks were 
 cut. Mr. Swain has many letters of his, in which, on receiving proofs of 
 the drawings, he has noted by means of pen and ink sketches, such 
 alterations as he required. This cutting of the blocks was a source of 
 constant anxiety, notwithstanding the care that was always given to his 
 work ; and it was with a certain flutter of excitement in the home circle 
 that the proofs were generally received. Some member of the family — 
 more Papist than the Pope — would give vent to his or her disappoint- 
 ment at the loss the drawing had suffered in the process of cutting ; while 
 Walker himself, knowing no doubt the extreme difficulty of rendering 
 with perfect exactitude all the delicacy of his work, would put the proof 
 from him with a smile in which deprecation of his family's partiality, and 
 a sense of his own disappointment were curiously mingled. 
 
 Of smaller water colours about this time, I can only trace the Charity 
 mentioned above, which was painted towards the end of 1862 or 
 beginning of 1863. 
 
 Hitherto Walker had been known to the public only by his wood 
 drawings. The year 1863, however, gave us his first exhibited oil 
 picture, and may be said generally to have been a year of preparation 
 for his public appearance as a water colourist. After a week or so of 
 preliminary cartoons, he, on February 26, began on canvas his oil picture 
 of The Lost Path — the "snow picture" as he calls it in a little diary 
 he kept for about a year at this time — the subject of which had first 
 appeared as an illustration to a poem. Love in Death, in the March, 1862, 
 number of Good Words. His youngest sister, Mary, stood to him for 
 the figure in this picture, as she did for so many others ; and snow, 
 as a rule, not being available here in March, he made use of salt as a 
 substitute. He also refreshed his memory by photographs, which fact 
 accounts for an entry in the diary when the picture was practically 
 finished : " feel anxious to begin carefully and from nature." There is 
 a note of his having gone to Croydon " to look at fir trees for snow 
 picture" ; but apparently he did not consider them an improvement, as 
 they do not appear in the finished work. On April 4 — the Saturday 
 before sending-in day to the Royal Academy — the picture was shown at 
 the evening meeting of the Langham, where, he says, " it seemed to be 
 admired." Some three weeks later he learnt that the picture was ac- 
 
1861-63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 2S 
 
 cepted, but hung high up. On May 4 he writes : — " Very fatiguing day — 
 opening of Royal Academy, met Marks, Calderon, Yeames, Hodgson, 
 
 The Lost Path. 
 
 (By permission of Messrs. Thos. Agnew and Sons, ovmers of the copyright. 
 
 LesHe, &c. Met all kind friends — general sympathy as to picture, &c." 
 Notwithstanding its position, the picture attracted attention. Mr. Tom 
 Taylor, in the preface to the catalogue of the exhibition of 1876, says 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IV 
 
 of it : — " I still remember how deeply it impressed me, hung as it was in 
 an undistinguished place in the North Room. I still think it one of his 
 most pathetic pictures." It was sold, after the close of the Royal 
 Academy, for the modest sum of ;^90, and has been etched by Mr. C. 
 Waltner. 
 
 The Deadly Affinity. {O/tce a Week, October 25, 1862.) 
 
 Shortly after The Lost Path was sent in to the Royal Academy,. 
 Walker paid his first visit to Paris. Of this visit Mr. P. H. Calderon,. 
 R.A., has kindly given me the following particulars : — 
 
 " I had had a rather serious bout of illness in the spring of 1863^ 
 and it was decided that as soon as my picture was sent in to the Royal 
 Academy, my wife and I should go to Paris for change of air. The 
 sending-in day was Tuesday, April 7th ; Walker spent the evening of 
 that day with us, and almost decided to join us in Paris. I say ' almost,' 
 because he always had the greatest difficulty in making up his mind, and 
 seemed incapable of keeping to an engagement when made. I started 
 on the 8th, spent some days at Boulogne, and reached Paris on the 
 13th. Walker joined us at midnight on the 14th." 
 
 After mentioning the various places of interest to which he took 
 Walker, and the difficulty he experienced in interpreting for Walker's 
 benefit the jokes and puns of an Opera Bouife, Mr. Calderon continues : — 
 
1861-63 FREDERICK WALKER 37 
 
 " As far as I could judge, the Louvre left him quite unmoved. I do 
 not remember his remaining entranced before any picture there — nor 
 did he ever say anything about any of them. (It I am not mistaken, 
 much the same was said by friends of his visit to Venice later on.) 
 At the Luxembourg he passed rapidly over the usual lions there — the 
 big Couture, the big Miiller, even the Delacroix, but fastened upon 
 the Jules Breton La Jin de la journee — this he looked at intently, evidently 
 the picture went home to him. 
 
 " At Versailles the miles of historical and battle pieces left Walker 
 very indifferent, until he came to the Sacre de F Imperatrice Josephine. 
 This he studied from corner to corner ; and when, after a long pause 
 in that room, we moved on to the next, Walker slipped away from 
 us, and I had to go back to fetch him away. He never spoke of the 
 picture afterwards, and I am in doubt to this day as to whether it 
 was admiration of the grace of the female figures which bewitched him, 
 or whether he had a sudden revelation of the possibilities of the short- 
 waist ed ' Empire ' dress. He certainly showed great affection for that 
 costume afterwards." 
 
 It may be as well here to give the remainder of Mr. Calderon's 
 note, though it has no special relation to this Paris trip : — 
 
 *' It is unsafe to speak of Walker's silence on pictures or other subjects, 
 however, and to conclude therefrom that he had no opinion favourable or 
 the reverse. Walker never expressed an opinion about anything, or 
 joined in any discussion whatsoever. He sat with us, either sketching or 
 doing something with his clever little fingers ; possibly listened (very 
 often not) whilst we argued, and laughed at our excitement when we 
 had done. How fond he was of jokes and fun, you know full well. 
 
 " The mention of his * clever little fingers ' reminds me that he found 
 me one evening modelling a small bust of my wife in wax. He was 
 quite excited over the process, pounced upon some wax and modelling 
 tools, and immediately began a tiny head of me, much caricatured but 
 wonderfully like. This new ' fad ' so fascinated him, that we got well 
 •into the small hours before I could induce him to go home. This was 
 his first attempt at modelling, and, as far as I know, his last." 
 
 Considering this was the first time Walker had been out of England, 
 his letters from Paris are singularly devoid of interest. Although, 
 jiaturally, there was much that impressed him, he refers only in the most 
 general terms to what he saw. One characteristic quotation, however, 
 may be given :—'■'' The difference of everything is overpowering, and 
 •though this trip is doing me a world of good, yet if I thought that I 
 was not going back in a short time to some pets of mine near Spanish 
 Place" (he was still living in Charles Street), "to work (like a demon) 
 upon one or two things we've laid out for ourself — you know, dear old 
 Mummy — L should be miserable indeed." 
 
38 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, IV 
 
 While still engaged on the " snow picture," Walker began the water 
 colour drawing, from Jane Eyre^ of Rochester, Jane Eyre, and Adele in 
 the garden, which was a commission from Mr. Geo. Smith, in whose 
 possession it still is. Mr. Smith tells me that the only instance within 
 his knowledge of Walker having failed in illustrating anything he 
 attempted was in the case of Jane Eyre. In the course of an after 
 dinner conversation^ when Walker was staying with Mr. Smith at his 
 house in the country, he said he had been reading Jane Eyre., and 
 should like to illustrate it. Mr. Smith said it was a difficult book to 
 
 Rochester Showing His Mad Wife. ^Jane Eyre.) 
 
 illustrate, and he was afraid it would be difficult even for " the great 
 F. W." to satisfy him. Ultimately it was arranged that Walker should 
 accept a commission for a water colour drawing of any subject he liked 
 to choose from Jane Eyre ; and that after the drawing was made, they 
 should talk of the matter again. The drawing was completed, and Mr. 
 Smith adds : — " It need hardly be said that it is a beautiful drawing, but 
 Walker's ' Rochester ' is not Charlotte Bronte's ' Rochester ' and 
 Walker's 'Jane Eyre' is not Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre.'" The 
 subject of the illustration of the book was never referred to again. 
 
 Whether Walker was discouraged by what Mr. Smith had said, or 
 was over anxious to prove Mr. Smith's estimate of his powers a wrong 
 one, I cannot say. It is certain, however, that this drawing gave him an 
 immensity of trouble which he does not seem to have experienced when 
 working in a less familiar medium on the The Lost Path. Begun in 
 
1861-63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 39 
 
 March, it was laid aside for a couple of months, taken to again, and 
 again laid aside ; and it was not till the beginning of October that it was 
 finished. The greatest difficulty seems to have been with the figure of 
 Rochester, which was wholly or partially rubbed out no less than four 
 times. The entries in the diary respecting the drawing are at times full 
 of despondency. "Very dissatisfied with it " — " Cannot get on with J. 
 Eyre, and much troubled about it " — " Miserable about J. Eyre and 
 afraid it will never be done " — are some of the references he makes to it, 
 and show something of the travail of soul with which the drawing was 
 produced. However, it was at length finished, taken to Mr. Smith, who 
 was " very pleased " with it, and a graceful little entry in the diary, " very 
 sensible of Smith's kindness," brings the record to a close. It may 
 be mentioned that the wall in front of which Rochester is seated, was 
 painted from that enclosing part of the grounds of the old home of the 
 Carews at Beddington, now the Female Orphan Asylum. 
 
 I have not been able accurately to fix the date of the well-known 
 etching of the Blind Man and Boy^ but believe it was early in 1863. It is 
 worth noticing that though the oil picture of Wayfarers^ of which the 
 etching was the forerunner, was not exhibited till some three years later. 
 Walker was at Haslemere twice in the course of this year, looking for a 
 suitable background for the picture ; and was engaged for nearly a month 
 on preparatory sketches, from an old soldier he had found in Oxford 
 Street, selling pocket books. 
 
 At Midsummer of this year. Walker removed from Charles Street to 
 No. 3, St. Petersburgh Place, Bayswater — the house he occupied till his 
 death. I also had, about a month before, moved from Croydon to a cot- 
 tage at Beddington, standing by itself in the fields ; and as the place was 
 
40 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IV 
 
 easy of access from town, and at the same time quite in the country, it 
 formed a convenient base of operations for Walker of which he availed 
 himself for some time to come. The first work he did there was a little 
 water colour called Refreshment^ the design for which had originally 
 appeared in the June, 1862, number of Good Words^ in illustration of a 
 poem entitled The Summer Woods} This little drawing was among his 
 first four exhibited water colours, and has been etched by W. Boucher. 
 
 Contrary to his practice in later years. Walker would at this time 
 frequently seek advice, outside his home, on matters relating to his work 
 — as price, accepting commissions, and so on — and in this way, being in 
 difficulties over a Cornhill drawing, he once went to see Sir John Millais, 
 and, as he says, found him in bed and talked to him there. He would 
 also consult my brother and Mr. Calderon, and on one occasion at least 
 was himself able to offer advice ; for calling one day on Mr. Calderon, he 
 found him out of spirits about his picture of The Burial of Hampden^ and 
 advised that the picture should be put aside until after Mr. Calderon's 
 return from a contemplated visit with my brother to the Continent. One 
 result of this incident was the accompanying caricature ; about which it is 
 only necessary to say, by way of explanation, that Mr. Calderon was at 
 that time usually spoken of by his intimates as " The Doge." 
 
 P w 
 
 " up a Tree^ or, The Doge and His Troubles.''' 
 
 Mr. Calderon's difficulty with his picture added point to another 
 caricature, in which he figures as a poodle with a saucepan labelled 
 
 ^ Sec page 46. 
 
1861-63 FREDERICK WALKER 41 
 
 " Hampden " tied to his tail — the caricature and a sham medal being pre- 
 sented to the voyagers on their return from this visit to the Continent by 
 a mock deputation, as related by my brother in his book Pen and 
 Pencil sketches. 
 
 It will have been noticed that Mr. Calderon speaks of Walker as 
 having been fond of fun, and so he was. Many of his letters are full of 
 boyish playfulness, and though he was not wont to indulge in boisterous 
 outbursts of laughter, he had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and a quiet 
 fund of humour, which found vent pictorially in his many caricatures. 
 Of these my brother has reproduced several in his book above mentioned, 
 some of them owing their origin to the visit to Swanage, referred to on 
 page 3, which took place towards the end of August of this year. My 
 brother had written from Swanage urging Walker to throw aside wood 
 blocks and water colours for awhile, and come and have an idle time ; and 
 Walker had gone, accompanied by his eldest sister, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Calderon joining the party shortly afterwards. At Swanage Walker 
 spent, as he says, " a most delightful holiday " ; and having, while there, 
 received a cheque for his picture of The Lost Path^ he sent it on to his 
 mother with the words : — " and the reason I send it to you, dear, is that 
 you should break into it as soon as you like." 
 
 No allusion has as yet been made to Walker's connection with the 
 little band of St. John's Wood artists, known as " The Clique " ; but as 
 some of its members were among his most intimate friends, and he him- 
 self was elected an honorary member about this time, some mention of 
 the subject may here be made. The original members were : P. H. 
 Calderon, G. D. Leslie, J. E. Hodgson, W. F. Yeames, G. A. Storey, 
 D. W, Wynfield, and my brother — it has been seen that Walker speaks 
 of having met five of the number on the opening day of the Royal 
 Academy — and honest and searching criticism of one another's work was 
 the main object of the brotherhood. The badge was a gridiron, with the 
 motto, " Ever on thee ; " a die of this badge was made for the members' 
 notepaper, and a small brass gridiron was worn suspended from the 
 button-hole on certain ceremonial occasions. There were meetings on 
 Sunday mornings at the studio of one or other of the members, outings 
 in the country after the pictures had been sent in to the Royal Academy, 
 and in all their sayings and doings there existed a thorough bond 
 of cordial goodfellowship. 
 
 During this and the next few years. Walker saw a great deal of the 
 Clique, both collectively and individually ; and though, as time went on 
 and his circle of friends widened, the intimacy somewhat declined, there 
 was no loss of friendliness on either side. Ten years later — in the winter 
 of 1873 — when Walker was about to leave for Algiers for the benefit of 
 his health, it was the Clique he gathered round him at a farewell dinner 
 at the United Arts Club, of which he was an original member, and their 
 letters of reply to his invitation, carefully put together, are among the 
 papers that have come into my hands. 
 
 The atmosphere of the Clique must, I think, have been rather 
 
42 LIFE AND LErrERS OF chap, iv 
 
 a robust one for Walker. The honest and searching criticism was not 
 altogether confined to a member's work, and the peculiarities, physical or 
 otherwise, of the man himself, sometimes came in for a share. Walker's 
 extreme sensitiveness, and a readiness to imagine a slight when none was 
 meant (which developed almost painfully in later years), rendered him 
 peculiarly open to attack ; and I fancy some of the shafts which were 
 aimed at him must have sunk a little deeper than was intended. As 
 I write, I have before me three unfinished caricatures, all of the same 
 subject, and in that which has been carried furthest towards completion 
 the seven members of the Clique are seen walking oiF arm-in-arm, some 
 looking back, some in attitudes of derision, while in the foreground 
 Walker shows himself slowly moving away, with bent head and dejected 
 air, apparently hard hit. But though in the friendly war of words, Walker 
 might be unable to hold his own, he could reply with good effect when 
 he betook himself to caricature, and in this characteristic manner would 
 often manage to have the last laugh. 
 
 After his return from Swanage, Walker was chiefly engaged, for a 
 couple of months or so, on work that has been already referred to, and 
 in November he began the beautiful water colour drawing of Philip 
 in Churchy on which he worked pretty constantly, though not exclu- 
 sively, for the remainder of the year. The drawing was a tolerably long 
 time on hand, but though he once or twice speaks of being dissatisfied 
 with it, and had some trouble with Philip's head — which, satisfactory in 
 itself, was wrongly placed, and was eventually cut bodily out of the 
 paper and its position altered — there are none of those groanings in 
 spirit which marked the progress of Jane Byre. For the background. 
 Walker several times visited the church in Queen Square, Bloomsbury, to 
 which it will be remembered Thackeray referred him, " if you are curious 
 to be exact." It may interest some to know that in the face of the 
 elderly lady in a light bonnet, seen in the background below the base of 
 the pillar, is to be found a very recognisable likeness of Walker's mother. 
 
 While working on one subject. Walker would frequently have 
 another in hand. Of the smaller water colours executed in this way, 
 and, as nearly as can be ascertained, during this year, he completed The 
 Young Patient^ The Shower^ The Village School^ and one from his illustra- 
 tion to a short story of Miss Thackeray (entitled Out of the IVorld) in 
 the September, 1863, number of the Cornhill. I fear these bald lists of 
 less important water colours may have somewhat wearied the reader ; but, 
 without pretending that the catalogue is exhaustive, I have been anxious 
 to make it as complete as possible, for the reason that it is generally to 
 these earlier years that any spurious drawings are attributed. After the 
 year 1863, Walker's works were not only more widely known, but bore 
 in themselves such evidences of their origin, that imposition is easily 
 detected ; though even as regards later years, there have been instances 
 where an unfinished study has been added to by some unscrupulous 
 person, and disposed of as Walker's own — a deception rendered the more 
 possible from the fact that so many unfinished studies were dispersed 
 
1861-63 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 43 
 
 Philip in Church. 
 
44 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK JVALKER ch. iv 
 
 after his death. The one or two cases in which unfinished work of his 
 has been openly and honourably touched on by other hands, will be 
 referred to in their proper places. 
 
 It was at Christmas of this year that many a home in England, and 
 Walker's not the least among them, was saddened by the news of 
 Thackeray's death. It so happened that I was with Walker when he 
 first heard the news. On the evening of Thursday, December 24, we had 
 been having a game of billiards at some Billiard Rooms, and on taking a 
 cab for Bayswater, Walker, who was a little anxious, told the cabman to 
 drive first to Thackeray's house in Palace Gardens, where he learnt that 
 his friend had passed away that day. It was a silent drive back to St. 
 Petersburgh Place. On reaching home Walker went upstairs, and left to 
 me the task of breaking the news to his family. The entry for this day 
 in the little diary — only two words, " Thackeray died " — is touching in its 
 simplicity. Mrs. Richmond Ritchie tells me : — " When my father died, I 
 remember being touched and affected by hearing some one say that Mr. 
 Walker had come running to the house, and that one of the household 
 met him wandering about the stairs in tears." Though at first it was not 
 Mrs. Ritchie's wish that this should appear in print, I have since obtained 
 her permission to record an incident that is honourable alike to him who 
 could inspire such affection, and to him who was capable of feeling it. 
 Walker attended Thackeray's funeral on December 30, and returned 
 home, as he says, quite worn out and still unwell, and "much impressed 
 with the morning's event." Much impressed, and not a little sad ; for, in 
 common with all who were privileged to know him as he was. Walker 
 had learnt to love and reverence the great and kindly man. 
 
 On moving to St. Petersburgh Place, and for some two or three years 
 before. Walker's household consisted of his mother, his sisters Fanny and 
 Mary, and his brother John, and the number was now to be reduced by 
 the marriage of his sister Mary, on January 2, 1864. ^^ ^i^ diary, after 
 briefly chronicling the day's doings, he adds : — " Consider this the end of 
 the year." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 1864 
 
 The year 1864, at which we have now arrived, marks an important 
 epoch in Walker's hfe, and may almost be said to form for him a dividing 
 line between comparative obscurity and renown. Among the numerous 
 misstatements that have clustered round his name, it has been said that 
 Walker's talent was recognised only after his death, but this is far from 
 having been the case. From the first, his powers had met with the most 
 ready recognition from his brother artists ; on his now approaching public 
 appearance as a water colourist, and henceforward, the critics were mostly 
 lenient with him, sometimes indeed vying with each other in a chorus of 
 praise ; his works were eagerly sought after ; and the estimate of their 
 value afforded by that popular criterion of merit, the money test, could 
 not be deemed other than satisfactory. 
 
 The Royal Academy had perhaps done him but scant justice in dealing 
 with The Lost Path, but the Society of Painters in Water Colours (now 
 bearing the prefix of Royal, but known then as now by the more familiar 
 title of the Old Water Colour Society) was soon to throw its doors wide 
 open to him, and receive him with open arms ; and from this time forward, 
 success followed success, almost without a check. A few months before, 
 he had been urged by two members of the Society — first of all by Mr, A. 
 D. Fripp, and shortly after by Mr. Carl Haag — to become a candidate 
 for election as Associate, and it was with this object that he was now — 
 January, 1864 — bringing the drawing of Philip to completion. The 
 regulations were, and 1 believe are, that a candidate must submit three 
 finished drawings as specimens of his ability ; and the three submitted by 
 Walker were the scene from Jane Eyre, Refreshment, and Philip. The 
 latter received the finishing touches on January 25, and it was then taken 
 to "dear old William Hunt," as Mr. Ruskin calls him, who "seemed 
 greatly pleased with it, and gratified me very much." The old man was 
 then nearing the end of his career. In little more than a fortnight his 
 hand was still, and Walker wrote : — 
 
 "I thought of writing this afternoon, and if I had, should not have 
 had to give you a bit of bad news which I have just heard at the Club. 
 
46 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. V 
 
 W. Hunt is dead — took cold on Sunday on going down to the Gallery 
 to see the competition drawings — the good old man is gone, dropped off 
 like the ripe fruit he painted. A long and happy life I should say, and 
 surely one passed in giving the purest pleasure .... I feel great 
 pleasure in knowing that one of the last things W. Hunt did, was to send 
 his vote for me." 
 
 The election took place on February 8, and Walker was elected an 
 Associate by a unanimous vote — an honour that falls to the lot of very 
 
 The Summer Woods. (Good Words, June, 1862.) 
 
 few. It was even suggested by some that he should not be subjected to 
 the ballot ; and the following extract from a letter of a brother artist 
 will show something of the warmth of welcome he received. Mr. F. W. 
 Topham, writing on the day of the election says : — " I went to the Gallery 
 the other day, and I cannot help telling you how entirely charmed I was 
 with the exquisitely refined and touching work you have sent. A more 
 lovely drawing than your * Philip ' / have never seen^ and I envy the 
 possessor of such a gem. I do not know who is to have the honour of 
 proposing you, but wish it had been mine to do so." It is strange that, 
 
1 864 FREDERICK WALKER 47 
 
 with this drawing of Philip on the walls at the exhibition of 1876, Mr. 
 Ruskin should have written : — " There is no evidence in the entire Walker 
 exhibition that he had ever heard of such a thing as prayer." 
 
 Though so far this year Walker had been engaged principally on 
 Philip^ wood drawing was also claiming a share of his attention. In the 
 previous November he had undertaken (with considerable reluctance) 
 the illustrations to Mrs. Henry Wood's story of Oswald Cray^ the first 
 part of which appeared in Good Words for January ; and Mr. Smith had 
 lately proposed that he should contribute the illustrations to Thackeray's 
 unfinished story of Denis Duval. This too he had agreed to, not 
 without some consideration, for though without doubt he fully ap- 
 preciated a further association with Thackeray's writings, wood drawing 
 had now become irksome to him, and took up time that he felt might 
 be more advantageously employed. The drawings to Denis Duval 
 appeared in the Cornhill in March, April, May, and June ; and, though 
 not, I believe, as a consequence of the considerations just mentioned, they 
 have not been classed among his happiest efforts. It may be that he was 
 hampered by the costume, or, as possibly was the case with the scene 
 from Jane Eyre., over anxiety to do justice to his subject was the cause 
 of any shortcoming ; for the care that has evidently been bestowed on the 
 drawings seems somewhat to have detracted from their spontaneity, and 
 rendered them a trifle laboured. The first illustration — Little Denis 
 dances and sings before the Navy Gentlemen — was redrawn by Walker 
 from a water colour drawing by Thackeray in the possession of Mr. Smith, 
 to which Walker refers as the last drawing from Thackeray's hand. 
 Of the four illustrations. Walker reproduced two in water colour, viz. : 
 Evidence for the Defence, and Denis's Valet, 
 
 The incentive to work afforded by the personal nature of the con- 
 nection between author and artist in the case of Denis Duval., was 
 wanting as regards the illustrations to Oswald Cray ; and though the 
 drawings themselves did not suffer on that account, the labour attending 
 them, and the necessity, as in all such work, of having them ready by a 
 certain time, were more keenly felt. The story had not been long on 
 its way when Walker wrote : — 
 
 " I begin to think it was a mistake to take those ' Good Words ' 
 things, and the beastliness of wood drawing is full upon me — support me 
 in the resolution to take no more as these things get finished. I am 
 utterly tired of it — yes utterly. There is not a single reason that I 
 can see now for doing them, certainly not on the score of money." 
 And again a little later : — " I asked Swain if he thought I could get off 
 doing any more * Good Words ' drawings — in fact give 'em to some 
 one else. He seemed shut up and said he thought not. Strahan's 
 away — at Jerusalem — for three months, so I must bear that burden." 
 
 Soon after the three months, however, the burden was cast 
 aside. The eighth illustration — that for August — brought Walker's 
 
48 LIFE AND LErTERS OF chap, v 
 
 connection with the story, and also with Good TVords^ to an end ; and 
 for some time to come he possessed his soul in peace, unharassed by the 
 myrmidons of the wood engraver. 
 
 On the day of his election to the Old Water Colour Society, Walker 
 wrote : — " I've begun at the blind man on the large canvas and will work 
 hard, but sha'n't send in if I'm obliged to scamp it." This is of interest 
 as showing that, whatever disappointment he may have felt at the failure 
 of The Lost Path to secure a better position the year before at the Royal 
 Academy, the fact that he did not again exhibit there till the year 1867, 
 was due to other causes than mere pique. It was, however, to be 
 many a month yet before the picture of the blind man was completed. 
 On March 1 1 he wrote : — " As for the blind man, as it's impossible to 
 get done for the R.A., I shall take time and slap at the primrosy Spring, 
 and send it in with the rest — shall just have time if I work hard — only a 
 single figure." " The primrosy Spring " was the fourth drawing of the 
 quartette with which Walker made his public appearance at the Summer 
 Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society ; the other three being those 
 which had secured his election. The landscape was taken from the copses 
 near the cottage at Beddington, in which he often strolled, and where he 
 hailed with pleasure, as a sign of coming spring, the " tender green primrose 
 leaves just peeping up." 
 
 This drawing of Spring was the first of the many important works of 
 Walker's which passed through the hands of Messrs. Thomas Agnew 
 and Sons ; but was not, as has been stated, the means of bringing 
 together Walker and Mr. (now Sir. William) Agnew. The latter had 
 come to Walker in the month of February, before the drawing was 
 begun, with a letter of introduction from Mr. Calderon ; and had sub- 
 sequently secured the drawing by a cheque on account, nearly a month 
 before the private view of the Old Water Colour Exhibition. It is a 
 thankless task to spoil a good story ; but the statement that the drawing 
 of Spring was purchased by Mr. Agnew at the private view, and the 
 account of Walker's emotion at the purchase, hardly seem consistent with 
 the facts just stated. Mr. Agnew's recognition of Walker's talent was, 
 however, in any case, immediate and complete. A friendship was formed 
 which quickly passed the narrow bounds of business, and was continued to 
 the end of Walker's life. The genuine delight that Mr. Agnew took in 
 Walker's works, coming as it did from one so well qualified to judge, 
 must have been very gratifying. That the large and open-handed 
 methods which marked Mr. Agnew's conduct of affairs, afforded Walker 
 frequent relief from anxiety, is evident from many expressions in his 
 letters. 
 
 The date of the private view — April 23 — was a memorable one to 
 Walker, and I regret that among his letters there are none bearing on this 
 day. The critics were loud in his praise. It was affirmed that he had 
 risen to the height of his profession at a single bound ; the Society was 
 said to have made the most valuable addition to its figure painters that it 
 could have made ; his work was most favourably compared with that of 
 

i864 FREDERICK WALKER 49 
 
 the lately lost William Hunt ; and its grace, beauty, and delicacy, both in 
 treatment of subject and in execution, were freely acknowledged. Some 
 exception was indeed taken to the drawing of the scene from Jane Eyre 
 (which by the advice of Mr. Smith had been sent in with the simple 
 title of Garden Scene)^ but where so much was praise, this was a small 
 matter. It may easily be thought what joy this success brought to the 
 household of St, Petersburgh Place. Thenceforth Walker was recognised 
 as a master in water colours, and his drawings were among the first looked 
 for at the Exhibitions of the Society. 
 
 In recognition of the merits of his four exhibits. Walker was this 
 year awarded the silver medal of the Society for the Encouragement of 
 the Fine Arts. At the sale of the collection of the late Mr. William 
 Leech, Spring was purchased by Sir William Agnew for the sum of 
 j^ 2,000. 
 
 Philip in Church has been etched by Professor H. Herkomer, R. A., 
 and Spring by Mr. R. W. Macbeth, A. . R. A. 
 
 On looking down the list of Walker's exhibited works, it will be 
 noticed that, so far as production for exhibition was concerned, his first 
 success in water colours was followed by a period of comparative inaction. 
 There were but two more drawings in 1 864, and two only in the following 
 year. It must be borne in mind, however, that Walker had no notion of 
 confining himself to water colours, but was desirous of becoming known 
 as a painter in oils. As will have been seen by the references to the 
 blind man picture, he was already working with that object. The paucity 
 of exhibited drawings just mentioned, was due, I believe, to the fact that 
 he was endeavouring thoroughly to prepare himself before again appearing 
 as an oil painter ; and the searching self-criticism and fastidiousness which 
 were always with him made this a matter of time. He must, too, have 
 realised the importance of avoiding anything approaching a falling short 
 in oils of the standard he had established for himself in water colours, 
 and was not likely to imperil his success by hasty or premature effort. To 
 these considerations, special to this time, must be added the fact that Walker 
 was throughout incapable of regular and methodical work. This alone 
 might lead many to suppose that he was wanting in industry generally. 
 That it was the opinion formed of him by Mr. Hodgson, is 
 ■evident from what he says in the article in the Magazine of Art already 
 referred to : — " nor was he in any danger from over-industry and applica- 
 tion." If, too, Mr. Hodgson's account of the difficulty Walker experienced 
 in production, be taken as representing his normal state, the wonder 
 would seem to be that any completed picture ever saw the light. Mr. 
 Hodgson says : — " Never did artist groan as he did in the throes of pro- 
 duction. It was painful to see him ; he would sit for hours over a 
 sheet of paper, biting his nails, of which there was very little left on 
 either hand ; his brows would knit, and the muscles of his jaw, which was 
 square and prominent, would twitch convulsively like one in pain. And 
 at the end, all that could be discerned were a few faint pencil sketches, 
 
50 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, v 
 
 the dim outline of a female figure perhaps, but beautiful as a dream, full 
 of grace, lovehness, and vitality." That Mr. Hodgson wrote of what he 
 saw, there is no question. His statement cannot, however, be accepted 
 without considerable qualification. As Walker was not in the habit of 
 working before others, it may fairly be assumed that the scene which Mr. 
 Hodgson describes took place at some sketching meeting ; where, having 
 so to speak, to produce something to order in a given time, it may well 
 have been that, if the fit were not on him. Walker's ideas were slow in 
 coming. That he did not, when alone, sit for hours in the manner de- 
 scribed, is clear for the simple reason that, when not in the mood, he would 
 not attempt to work at all. When he had thoroughly thought out what 
 he intended to do, or when making a simple transcript from nature, he 
 worked quickly and with ease, laying down his foundations and building 
 upon them with a precision that would have been impossible, unless he 
 had had from the beginning a clear idea of the effect he intended to pro- 
 duce. Nevertheless there are instances — one will be mentioned directly — 
 where it can hardly be said that Mr. Hodgson's statement is overdrawn ; 
 though the quantity and quality of the works shown at the exhibition of 
 1876 prove, I think, that the sterility spoken of by him could only have 
 been present at certain times and under certain circumstances. 
 
 The two other finished drawings of this year, referred to above, were 
 those exhibited at the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour 
 Society, viz. : Denis's Valet^ painted for Mr. Geo. Smith, and a post- 
 man delivering a letter at a gate, which, though exhibited with the 
 simple title of Sketchy is named My Front Garden in one of Walker's 
 papers, and was taken from his house at St. Petersburgh Place. Among 
 the other work on hand was the drawing of Autumn^ the instance just 
 mentioned as tending to support Mr. Hodgson's statement. This 
 drawing, though begun in June, and so far finished as to be exhibited at 
 the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society in 1865, was 
 not finally out of hand till December of that year ; this too, as far as 
 can be ascertained, without the need for any of those radical alterations, 
 brought about by the further development of his idea of the subject, 
 which so often led Walker to discard work that seemed to others to be 
 progressing satisfactorily. Several other drawings were begun and 
 finished during the time that Autumn was on hand, and possibly the 
 difficulty Walker experienced in bringing this drawing to completion was 
 again due to over anxiety. The favourable manner in which his first 
 exhibits had been received would in itself spur him on to greater 
 exertions ; while the knowledge that Autumn^ if only from its title, 
 would assuredly be compared with Springs must have made him anxious 
 that the later work should not suffer by the comparison. The following 
 extracts show the spirit in which he was working : — " I sha'n't hurry it, 
 and will do all I know." " I've improved the head, and am working 
 conscientiously as I began." To a certain point he was apparently 
 satisfied with the result, as towards the close of the year he writes : — " I 
 
1864 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 carry my chin higher than 1 have done for some time. I know the 
 picture now is a good one." Here, for the present, it must be left. 
 
 E.N.E. uinjr 
 
 In August, Walker went with the family to Ilfracombe, but does not 
 appear to have done any work there. In November, he received a visit 
 from Mr. Mark Lemon, the then editor of Punch, who solicited an 
 occasional contribution to that journal, and particularly wished for a 
 drawing for the Almanack for the coming year. This latter Walker 
 undertook, and speaks appreciatively of the kindness and consideration 
 shown by Mr. Mark Lemon during the negotiations as to choice of 
 subject, &c. The drawing was entitled : New Bathing Company (^Limited^ 
 — specimens of Costumes to be worn by the Shareholders. As has been 
 remarked by Mr. J. L. Roget in his History of the Old Water Colour 
 Society y it is " more distinguished by graceful fancy than by comicality of 
 humour." As usual, not too much time was left for the wood engraver, 
 and on receiving the proof of the drawing Walker writes : — " It gave me 
 the usual ' turn,' but I must not grumble, considering the short time 
 they had for the cutting." 
 
 About this time, too, Walker had a communication from the 
 authorities of the South Kensington Museum, inquiring whether he 
 would be willing to undertake a design for a full-length figure of 
 Flaxman as a sculptor, but though, at the time, he appeared anxious to 
 accept the commission, and wrote : — " I have great hopes that it refers 
 to one of the frescoes — portraits of great men round the new and rather 
 splendid gallery," the project was not carried out. A letter from the 
 Museum, dated December 10, 1867 (the authorities appear to have been 
 very long-suffering), states that, in the event of no design having been 
 begun, the commission will be given to some one else. 
 
 The only other work of this year of which the letters speak, is the 
 first of those invitation cards to the musical evenings of the Moray 
 Minstrels, which Walker executed for his friend, Mr Arthur J. Lewis, at 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. V 
 
 whose house these gatherings were held. Of this Walker writes : — " A. 
 Lewis has asked me as a favour to do ' a sketch ' for his music ticket 
 of this season. Of course I will, and take pains too for such a good 
 fellow, and will do more than the 'sketch.' " The result showed that he 
 kept his word ; and, from a copy of a letter to Mr. Lewis, it would 
 appear that the card was undertaken as a labour of love and in acknow- 
 ledgment of many kindnesses received. The card was drawn on the 
 wood, and engraved by Mr. W. H. Hooper, of whose work Walker 
 justly had a very high opinion. A letter to Mr. Hooper, dated 
 January 12, 1865, shows not only this, but also the care with which 
 Walker scrutinised the work of the engraver : — 
 
 " I have to thank you very much for the truly capital way in 
 which this block is being cut ; that of the ' Minstrels ' themselves 
 seems to tne quite perfect. I see I made a decided mistake in putting 
 that man's face in at the corner ; he is a regular brute ^ and must, I 
 think, be altered at any sacrifice. Could you change him into a 
 back view, like the rest.'' I have put a touch or two of dark in 
 altering with the white, which makes me fear you will say you 
 cannot alter him without plugging. He was considerably too dark 
 
 moreover. The lady's face would be better for a little attention ; 
 rather too much line on the pupils of her eyes — her precious eyes— the 
 line round the outside of the foot rather too thick, which makes the foot 
 itself look a leetle wide ; the lines on the toes hardly tender enough. I 
 
i864 FREDERICK WALKER 53 
 
 wish I'd hardly shown so much of her leg too ; you might make the 
 line of drapery rather more distinct — tenderly though. I am vexed to 
 suggest so annoying an alteration as the man's head. If it be necessary 
 to use a plug (and I hope it is not), let me know directly, that I may 
 draw it while the messenger waits." 
 
 Walker had, some time before, been taking riding lessons — he speaks 
 of going out riding with John Leech in November, 1863, while on a 
 short visit to Mr. George Smith, at Brighton — and Mr. Lewis frequently 
 gave him a mount, and took him out hunting. In various other ways, 
 too, Mr. Lewis had shown him kindness, freely placing his house at 
 Walker's disposal for backgrounds to his drawings — the phaeton in the 
 first illustration to Oswald Cray was drawn from Mr. Lewis's phaeton. 
 The statement of Mr. Claude Phillips in the Portfolio for June, 1894, 
 that Walker had been in the employment of Mr, Lewis's firms, is, 
 however, incorrect. 
 
 So much has been written of Walker's frailness, delicacy, timidity, 
 and so on, that the above reference to his' hunting may possibly come as 
 a surprise to some. Without, however, being an athlete, he was by no 
 means wanting in manliness. He was a good rider and swimmer ; had 
 at one time belonged to a rowing club ; would walk five or six hours at 
 a stretch ; and from his youth up was an ardent fisherman, rising later 
 to that highest branch of the gentle art, salmon fishing. Nor would he 
 tamely submit to anything approaching an affront, and indeed, as has 
 been said, was often too ready to take offence where none was meant. 
 Like most " anglers and very honest men," Walker was a smoker. 
 
 The year, which in its earlier months had been marked by such 
 success, was, towards its close, to usher in a period of trial and anxiety 
 caused by the state of health of Walker's youngest brother, John. This 
 brother, having his share of the artistic feeling of the family, had been 
 apprenticed to Mr. Strong, the wood carver, some four years before ; and, 
 had he lived, it is probable he would have become favourably known in 
 this branch of art. He had, however, never been very strong, and at the 
 beginning of October, symptoms of probable lung^-trouble were so apparent, 
 that it was considered necessary for him to give up work, at any rate for 
 a time, and pass the winter away from London. The place first selected 
 was Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight, and he went there early in October 
 accompanied by his mother, whose devotion to him, as to all her children, 
 was extreme. It was weary watching for her, dear lady, with its alterna- 
 tions of trembling hope and sickening fear ; and though her care delayed 
 the end, it came at last some three years later. Many were the letters 
 that passed between Walker and his mother during the times of her 
 banishment from home, of which this was the beginning, and nowhere 
 are the relations that existed between mother and son more clearly shown 
 than in this correspondence. Not to take too high ground, it may well 
 be imagined that to Walker, standing as he did, as yet, barely on the 
 threshold of pecuniary success, the expense attending these wanderings 
 
54 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER chap, v 
 
 must have been a matter of serious moment ; yet in all his letters there 
 is not one word of impatience or complaint on this score, but, on the 
 contrary, repeated inquiries as to what he could send "the poor exiles," as 
 as he calls them, in money or otherwise, to add in any way to their 
 comfort. Such expressions as these : — " You think too much about the 
 money — if it only has the desired effect, never was money better spent," 
 " Tell me what to send down," " Do let me know if I can send down any- 
 thing," " And if I hear of your stinting yourself while you are there 
 I shall be angry," recur like the burden of a song ; while his letters 
 throughout, and especially the evidence they afford of the unselfishness with 
 which he took upon himself all the cares of the head of a family, show 
 how Walker's sterling qualities were brought out in this time of trial. 
 And his mother's letters, with their gentle resignation, their wise counsel, 
 their tender solicitude, their absolute trust ! No wonder Walker's love 
 for her was what it was. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 1865 
 
 In the early days of 1865, Mrs. Walker and her invalid son lefr 
 Shanklin, and took up their quarters at Torquay. It was to the latter 
 place the letter containing the following reference to Wayfarers was 
 addressed. Writing to his mother from Croydon, while on a short visit 
 to his youngest sister and her husband, Walker says :^ 
 
 " I am preparing myself for the * great go ' — the Academy 
 picture, while here, and am getting into the devout (!) spirit which 
 my little worries were beginning to eclipse, and without which no 
 picture (of the character my ambition proposes for this) ought to 
 be commenced." In the same letter he gives this advice to his 
 brother : — " Tell him to always have his time employed, to make this 
 his first object ; and of an evening write a romantic and thrilling 
 history of a young man in search of the lovely, during a winter 
 in Torquay ; and done in a style of writing as though he were going in 
 for a Government situation, and by the way, who knows what might turn 
 up in case it should turn out not expedient to let him go back to Strong's ? 
 I write this because want of occupation is such an unwholesome thing, 
 such a foul thing." 
 
 A {^"^ days later — January 25 — he writes : — 
 
 " You'll want to know what I'm doing in the way of work. Well, 
 I have begun a sketch for the blind man, as I must considerably alter 
 the * compo ' of the figures, and in a few days I hope to have the little 
 water colour of Smith's done. As for * Autumn,' the little that it 
 requires may stand over for the present." " The little water colour " 
 referred to was the reproduction of the subject of the wood drawing 
 for Denis Duval — Evidence for the Defence. It was painted for Mr. 
 George Smith, and was first exhibited at the exhibition of 1876. 
 
 Walker so evidently intended Wayfarers for the Royal Academy, 
 that his account of a meeting with Mr. Gambart, in whose gallery the 
 picture was eventually exhibited, may here be given, as tending to throw 
 some light on the change of plan. This meeting took place at 
 Mr. Lewis's on the first night of the season of the Moray Minstrels— - 
 January 28. After speaking of the congratulations he received on the 
 success of the invitation card, Walker says : — " I'd only got a short 
 distance into the room at first, when Gambart got at me (that is the only 
 way I can describe it), and with greeting most tender insisted upon 
 coming to see me, and said, ' I'll come to-morrow morning.' I told him 
 he couldn't see anything but an unfinished water colour of Agnew's. 
 * Never mind, we'll talk over what you are going to do for me.' " 
 
56 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VI 
 
 Mr. Gambart's persistence triumphed in the end, so far as Wayfarers 
 was concerned. 
 
 It will be remembered that in 1863, Walker went to Haslemere to 
 find a background for this picture. He had also been looking for some- 
 thing suitable in the neighbourhood of Addington Hills, near Croydon ; 
 the line of these hills having formed the background in the etching. 
 The place eventually fixed on, however, was an out-of-the-way spot in 
 the fields, near the Beddington cottage, which he thus describes in a 
 letter to his mother dated February 9 : — 
 
 " I am happy to tell you I have got regularly into the bowels 
 of my picture. Yesterday was a capital day. I worked with 
 a will^ after great trouble in getting the canvas (no trifle), 
 easel and things on to the spot, which is on the swell of a hill beyond 
 the copse where I did ' Spring,' and looking over some ploughed 
 land towards old Croydon, and indeed I shall just indicate the church ; 
 so instead of having the stupendous ridge I originally intended for the 
 background, there will be the modest line of hills and feathery trees I 
 have got to appreciate from seeing so often ; and in front, quite to the 
 right, I have slapped in an old pollard willow stump, of which there is a 
 
 fine ivy-grown specimen in John's own place. I thought I never 
 should have got the things up to the place, for the wind was high, and I 
 had to cross a lot of heavy land, and a ploughed field where I nearly 
 stuck fast, but I did not mind, I had snowboots over my own, and 
 I preferred going that way to crossing Steadman's violet field, and suffer- 
 
1865 FREDERICK WALKER 57 
 
 ing the grins and probably the company of his 'hands.' I sincerely 
 hope it may go on well, for I give myself credit for having begun it in 
 the right spirit." 
 
 Steadman's violet field was itself to be pressed into Walker's service a 
 couple of years or so later. 
 
 Though begun in the right spirit, the picture had yet many diffi- 
 culties to encounter. Before long arises the bitter cry of the London 
 artist in his fog-girt home : — 
 
 " I've been trying to work this morning through a kind of 
 light as though the sky had a mixture of beer and dirt, and in 
 the end I dismissed the model in disgust ; and as I hear they are 
 skating, I shall just put my skates in a pocket of my pea-jacket, and go 
 and have a look, I cannot tell how sick I am of this cold. The sun is 
 just beginning (now that I've knocked off work) to break out in a 
 sickly way, the first time since I left Croydon, I'm sure." Shortly after 
 he wrote to his mother : — " I have not yet finished Smith's water colour, 
 but then I am making it rather more important than I thought I should. 
 I fear that for this year's Academy it is all up with my picture. I shall 
 see in a few days if it is as I fear. I shall anyhow be going on with it, 
 and at the same time have another picture for the Water Colour Gallery. 
 I feel that I am up to my neck in promises to let people have my work, 
 
 but then I do it so slowly My longing for Spring and warm 
 
 clean weather is fast becoming intolerable, I have never felt anything like 
 it Write continually to me — remember the post is a speaking- 
 tube of only a few hours length. Tell that Jack to, as well — never mind 
 what scraps they may be." 
 
 By the beginning of March, all idea of finishing the picture in time 
 for the Royal Academy was abandoned, and his thoughts turned again to 
 Autumn. On March 8 he wrote : — - 
 
 " 'Tis well I gave up the R.A. picture. I took 'Autumn' out 
 and had a look at it on Sunday, and with a fresh eye 1 saw that 
 it vjas good., and I shall have it appreciated too." March 13 : — " I have 
 come to the determination of only sending one large water colour, the 
 ' Autumn,' to the Exhibition, and finishing it very carefully, as I am 
 pleased with it." 
 
 March 15, to myself: — - 
 
 " I shall be with you again soon, for I have to finish ' Autumn ' 
 this month. I am in a rather depressed state about my work. My 
 Academy picture cannot possibly be done, so I have set it aside ; 
 and a subject I meant to work Polly into, I find does not look 
 inviting on closer acquaintance. I have done a small one for Smith, 
 however, and shall fill up the time in doing more of them in 
 your locality, for I find I have agreed to do no end, and they 
 certainly do bring in the cash. I am tired of yearning for a day or 
 
58 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VI 
 
 two of something that might be dignified by the name of weather. I 
 never was so utterly sick of this sort of thing — it takes the bread out of 
 one's mouth too, for I am actually waiting to work in the open air. I 
 go into the garden daily, in hopes of seeing something refreshing, but 
 with the exception of one or two wretched crocuses, that look as though 
 they'd made a mistake, it might be the end of November. The two poor 
 things at Torquay are getting tired of their banishment, but they 
 
 mustn't return till we are quite into next month I think I must 
 
 go to Torquay next week, mother has been begging me to for some time." 
 He accordingly went to Torquay, and while there painted the little 
 Moss Bank, which was exhibited this year at the Winter Exhibition of 
 the Old Water Colour Society. He brought the drawing back with him, 
 and writes on his return : — " I've had a look at the ' Moss Bank ' this 
 morning, and am happy to say it looks very well in London light." 
 The drawing of A Vision of the Clique^ from which Walker's own 
 figure is here given, was produced on the occasion of this visit to 
 Torquay. 
 
 Monday, April lo, was the date on which Autumn had to be sent in, and 
 Walker was at Beddington, working on the drawing, on that day. On the 
 1 3th he wrote to his mother : — 
 
 " I have indeed been bothered by the picture, especially as I found 
 on coming home that the sendingj-in day was last Monday. I shall 
 get it again on Saturday morning, so you see I shall work on it 
 up to the last moment, and certainly I never spent so much time and 
 
1865 FREDERICK WALKER 59 
 
 trouble over anything before. I don't ask people's opinions on it, 
 because they are sure to say something that is meant to be comforting, 
 whether they feel it or no. I fear it will not be liked so much ,as 
 ' Spring,' and altogether I am very anxious about it — time will show 
 however." 
 
 To this his mother replied : — " Do not fear about the success of 
 * Autumn.' Of course there will be difference of opinion, but there 
 will be enough to commend and appreciate to satisfy you, and us for you, 
 I am certain. Even should the reverse be the case, why cheer up ; there 
 is a long life before you, my boy, only take care, and your ultimate success 
 and fortune are certain." Walker himself took a more hopeful view on 
 getting the drawing back from the Gallery for a little more work before 
 the opening day, for he writes : — " As for ' Autumn,' it came back from 
 the Gallery to-day, and I am really pleased with it ; and if it has not a 
 proper place at the Gallery, and is well received, it will be a shame." 
 
 Walker's forebodings as to the reception of the drawing were not 
 without warrant ; though, happily, other criticisms upon it were not 
 in the same vein as that of the then art-critic of the Athenceum^ who 
 wrote that it "lacks solidity and even truth of colour" ; that the shadows 
 were painted " from feeling, not from nature " ; and that the girl's figure 
 is " audaciously reckless or childishly ignorant." In justice to this critic 
 it should be stated that the drawing, as then seen, was not in the state in 
 which it finally left Walker's hands. 
 
 So many allusions to his flute playing occur about this time in 
 Walker's letters, that it may be convenient here to make some reference 
 to the subject. He was exceedingly fond of music, and his efforts as a 
 musician began very early on the despised penny whistle. From this he 
 advanced to a small flute ; and now, for some months past, had been 
 taking lessons of Mr. R. S. Pratten, the flautist. He had, too, lately 
 
 " The Last Rose of Summer. 
 
6o 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VI 
 
 become the possessor of a really good instrument, which he cherished 
 with great care. He speaks of it as follows in a letter about this time : — 
 " I had another lesson of Pratten, and my flute has had a polish up and 
 the keys looked to. If it was lovely before, guess the blaze of delight 
 now ; I'm almost afraid to open the case." Walker played with much 
 grace and delicacy, paying particular attention to tone, and endeavouring 
 to bring out the sweet reediness of which the instrument is capable. His 
 flute was his constant companion in his journeyings, and the joy of making 
 music brought rest to many an hour. 
 
 
 " Aiidanfe and Rondo a la Pol/ca.^' 
 
 Towards the end of April, the exiles returned from Torquay, and, 
 after staying a few weeks in London, went down to Cookham for the 
 summer. In this way began the connection with the little village, 
 which has caused it and the name of Walker to be inseparably associated. 
 The cottage where they lodged was a rather tall, flint-built one, situated, 
 as Mr. Leslie says in Our River, " about half-way up the main street, 
 on the right-hand side as you go up from the river to the railway 
 station " ; and from the front windows could be seen the picturesque 
 old cottages (now no longer existing), which later were to form the 
 background of The Street, Cookham. A consideration assuredly not lost 
 sight of by Walker in fixing on a river-side place, was that his brother 
 John was as keen a fisherman as he was himself ; and here was an 
 opportunity for the invalid to indulge in his favourite sport to his 
 heart's content. Here, too, would probably be found the necessary 
 landscape for a picture of which the idea was already simmering in 
 Walker's brain. Soon after her arrival at Cookham, Mrs. Walker 
 wrote : — " This is a very lovely place, Fred would be delighted ; and 
 for a summer picture of boys bathing, there cannot be its equal, at 
 
1865 FREDERICK WALKER 6i 
 
 least in my experience." So here, with Wayfarers still unfinished, 
 Bathers was to be begun. 
 
 About this time, there is mention of a water colour drawing, called 
 indifferently A Farm Tar d 3.nd The Poultry Tard ; and. I regret to be 
 unable to state with certainty to what drawing these titles refer. My 
 impression is that it was a drawing done at Beddington, of a man opening 
 the half door of a stable, and letting out some stately Cochin-China 
 fowls, which drawing at the time. Walker intended to call The New 
 Arrivals ; but as there is subsequent mention of the introduction of two 
 figures into the drawing of The Poultry Yard^ and I have never again 
 seen the drawing done at Beddington, so as to ascertain if there were any 
 alteration in the first idea, I cannot say whether my impression is 
 correct.^ 
 
 It was during this summer, too, that Walker painted The Bouquet — 
 a gardener giving a bunch of flowers to two children in black — which 
 was the reproduction, with considerable alterations, of the original design 
 executed on wood for Messrs. Dalziel Bros. For the background. 
 Walker made large use of an old red-brick house standing on the left by 
 the cross roads, about a quarter of a mile out of Croydon along the 
 Mitcham Road ; and, though of no general interest, I may perhaps be 
 pardoned for mentioning that the dog in the drawing was painted from 
 my dear old bull-terrier, " Smudge," who from puppyhood to old age 
 lived his faithful life with me and mine. 
 
 To return to Bathers. On August lo, Walker, who was with his 
 brother at Cookham, wrote : — 
 
 " Jack seems pretty well I think. He coughs a little in the 
 night, and as I do not quite shut the door of my room, I always 
 hear him ; but he sleeps well, and in other respects is all right, 
 and in good spirits. I have just taken him up a cup of coffee, as 
 I have done the last few mornings, as I know it is a comforting thing. 
 I shall be glad to see Fan or some one, because as I have just got to work 
 with the river bank, I shall necessarily be irregular. As I told her, 
 beginning a picture is like taking a wife ; one must cleave to it, leaving 
 one's relations and everything, to work when one can." 
 
 There is no record of the amount of work given to the picture during 
 the next two months ; but at the end of that time a change of scene and 
 an enlarged canvas were determined on. Early in October, Walker 
 wrote from Bayswater to his brother, after a flying visit to the river : — 
 
 " You'll all say that wonders will never cease. I have just come home. 
 Having gone away by the 8 train last evening. I have come up to-night 
 for the big canvas and my easel. I shall go back early to-morrow. I 
 have had a most wondrous day. Had a good breakfast and went down to 
 
 ^ Since the above has been in type I have ascertained that The Poultry Tard and 
 The New Arrivals arc one and the same drawing. 
 
62 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vi 
 
 Poulton's, took one of the little boats and rowed to Marlow ; then I was 
 driven in a little pony gig to Mill End, where I had some bread and 
 cheese, and started to go back on foot (6 miles) ; and I think I never 
 had a more fetching walk — all along the banks, over great meadows, 
 quite made my legs twitch to think how I could have cantered over them, 
 and at last came to a place having for a background that which will top 
 everything for the picture, instead of Cliefden, though I shall keep the 
 nearer trees, also the meadows and rushes, just the same. I got so 
 excited that I saw the whole thing done from beginning to end ; and a little 
 further on was the lock house where the Coopers once stayed. I have 
 taken a room there from next Thursday, and before I come back I'll have 
 done something you'll see. When I saw this loveliness to-day, the whole 
 picture came before me in such a way, that I decided upon commencing 
 on the big canvas at once. I got into my boat at Marlow in an 
 ecstatic state, and was only cooled down by the time I got back to 
 Poulton's, feeling horribly hungry." 
 
 The lock house was that at Hurley, and a week later Walker wrote 
 from there to his sister Mary : — 
 
 " Haven't I been primitive for the last week, that's all — eating 
 steak and onions with such a relish, and everything like an ogre — 
 I never knew myself to eat so much, and with an iron spoon too 
 — this last must shock you ! But I get on with the picture, that's one 
 little comfort ; and when I think that it may be a real good success, 1 
 feel inclined to cuddle myself, though, my dear, it's fetching work — such 
 tramping over fields with the horrid great canvas — it's all warped, 
 having been wetted through once or twice. I pull up in a boat to the 
 scene of action, and then have to take all the things across a great 
 meadow ; and a mob of long-faced horses have once or twice become so 
 excited, rushing about in circles and kicking each other, then stopping 
 close to look at me, and I let one come quite close, and sniff the canvas. 
 You see, as I have to cook the composition up, taking a bit here and a 
 bit there, I have to drag the canvas to all manner of places, and nearly 
 put a hole in it getting it over a hedge this evening ; my poor nail-less 
 fingers were numbed. I've got a pair of splendid shooting boots, and 
 leather gaiters up to the knee, and my riding breeches with the little 
 pearl buttons at the side, and a velveteen hat of a dark cinnamon colour, 
 and look as much like a countryman as I can, but it won't do ; the few 
 people I have met are frightfully respectful, and will wish me 'good 
 day.' I've got my tackle here, but have only caught two perch ; 
 however, I shall try for a jack to-morrow before work. This is a funny 
 little house, and the boats pass through the lock under the windows ; 
 and there is a parrot here that laughs the most horrible sardonic laugh, 
 like a wicked old woman, and talks like one. The lock keeper is a 
 butcher as well, and has a shop at the side of the cottage, about a yard 
 and a half wide. He is fond of music, and has a bass viol hanging up 
 that he used to play in church. I have been tootling to him, and 
 
i865 FREDERICK WALKER 63 
 
 gave him ' Romance ' to-night ; he knew ' Rose Softly Blooming ' 
 quite well." 
 
 The following will appeal to some brother of the angle : — 
 
 " Tell that Jack that I caught two of his namesakes to-day. I began at 
 midday, or near one, after a long morning's work, and very soon had a small 
 one ; and not very long after, I saiv a regular monster rush out of the 
 weeds and gobble down my bait (I was trolling), and then he seemed to 
 give great gulps as though he liked it ; so I thought it time to give him 
 gruel, and struck. He dashed right down the stream, bending my rod 
 like a reed, and whirring the line out like old boots, when he sulked 
 under some weeds. I stopped a little time, and then I thought he'd 
 better come out of that, so I gave a bit of a tug. Then he made a 
 great dash on the surface of the water, and spewed up the hooks and 
 bait all mangled — guess my frame of mind when I saw he'd vanished, 
 my language was quite shocking. However, just before dusk this 
 evening, I got another ; not so big, but still decent. I shall try again 
 to-morrow — my work is close to the bank." 
 
 After a run up to town from Saturday till Monday, Walker wrote to 
 his mother, October 16 : — 
 
 " I got here in time to do a good hour's work, and now I've 
 just come in to have some tea and to send off a scribble to the 
 poor, old, careworn dear. I had plenty of time to think of you on 
 my journey down, and wished I could have left you all in better case. 
 My walk from Taplow was very solitary, and exceedingly lovely, not a 
 breath of wind stirring, and indeed a sort of afternoon to make one 
 thinks if ever one may take credit for such a proceeding. I got here 
 feeling slightly tired, and was not sorry to hear the Poll parrot's voice 
 echoing across the water before I came in sight of the little place. I 
 did not go away, but sat down to copy some rushes nearly opposite the 
 house. I have begun my tea, and it's beginning to rain, I'm grieved to 
 say, but perhaps it won't be much. . . . I've been outside to see a beat full 
 of people, forming a wedding party — one of the Mar low fishermen — 
 they were all singing, and had a cornet player with them ; the bride with 
 
 a white bonnet on, which will be spoilt I'm afraid Endure the 
 
 coming discomforts as well as possible, and think of the blessed spring 
 beyond. For my own part I am exceedingly happy, and am only con- 
 cerned about these matters which must take time to remove, and which 
 you are helping and doing your very best to remove — so bravely in my 
 opinion, that let me here declare, I am filled with admiration at your 
 unselfish sacrifice." 
 
 The " coming discomforts " referred to in the foregoing extract were 
 those attendant on another term of banishment soon to be begun ; the 
 place chosen being once more Torquay. It is worth notice, too, that 
 part of the letter was written while at a meal. This was quite a habit 
 
64 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vi 
 
 with Walker, many of the letters having been written under similar 
 circumstances ; for the reason, as he says in one of them, that " I don't 
 like being idle." 
 
 November i. — " I was just imprecating the name of Eatwell for not 
 sending two tubes of colour, and I find them laid on the table, so now I 
 shall have a very hard day's work ; the last, I hope, for I intend going 
 away for good to-morrow. I did a considerable bit yesterday, and much 
 improved it ; taking out a pollard willow, and putting a large nut bush (?) 
 in its place, and during the afternoon flinging anything into the 
 water, anything I could get hold of, to make circles, &c. It's astonishing 
 how much I have rubbed out in order to keep it simple ; for if I don't, 
 I know by bitter experience how it will be when I get in the figures. 
 
 The first two days' work went out at one lick Adieu, I go to 
 
 my work. This will be a fetcher after all, I know ; and oils too ! " 
 
 In connection with this study of circles in the water, it may be men- 
 tioned that Walker, while painting Backers, took suggestions as to the 
 play of colour in the water, from a handful of opals he had for the pur- 
 pose in his studio at the time. 
 
 On November 3, Walker returned to London. In a letter to his 
 mother written on the following day, he describes the difficulty he had 
 in getting the picture and his belongings to the railway station, and 
 continues : — 
 
 " I had another episode at Paddington. I had in my posses- 
 sion a letter saying that if I desired it, I could have the money 
 for a ticket which I didn't use, and as it was 4J. id. I did desire it, so 
 went, in my rustic attire^ into an office to inquire for the superintendent, 
 and there stood a group of young clerks at a sort of counter, and one 
 whom I addressed civilly, instead of answering, grinned at the others ; 
 whereupon I brought my fist down on the counter with a bang., ex- 
 claiming ' it, sir, don't grin., but answer me.' The effect was 
 
 electrical over the whole office, which was full of functionaries. The 
 superintendent, I may add, who was in the next office, was wise enough 
 
 to treat me with great courtesy What a lovely day, so was 
 
 yesterday ; and I had a little heart-ache in leaving the beauteous Hurley, 
 everything was bathed in gold. But no matter, I am in our castle once 
 more, and have turned up my sleeves for months of real hard work." 
 
 While at Hurley, Walker had begun the water colour portrait of 
 himself, in my possession, which forms the frontispiece of this book. 
 It is an excellent likeness. Soon after his return, he began another 
 portrait thus described in a letter to his mother : — 
 
 " I know you'll like just a line to say I'm all right, and at 
 work on my portrait, although not the one you saw. It's a stand- 
 ing figure, and will be more of a study and less of a portrait, 
 though I shall be quite faithful as to dress and feature, with 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 65 
 
 Autumn. 
 
 (By permission of Messrs. Tiios. Agnew and Sons, owners of the copyright ) 
 
66 LIFE AND LErTERS OF chap, vi 
 
 perhaps a little softening of my defects here and there. The figure 
 is standing, as I observed, and is holding up to the spectator a jack, 
 and I shall have proper accessories, and then call it, * Study — an 
 Angler.' The fish will be a caution, and will be held up by a string or 
 something passed through the gills." The drawing, however, was never 
 completed ; and no trace of it exists. 
 
 Hitherto Walker had used as a studio one of the rooms of his house 
 at St. Petersburgh Place. The studio he built at the bottom of the 
 garden was now in course of construction, and the letter just quoted 
 from says : — " The painting room is quite lovely. . . . and I could not 
 resist going down with a candle last evening, to see how it looked by 
 that light." 
 
 On getting home Bathers from Hurley, Walker was, as he says, 
 " more than satisfied with it." It was, however, to be laid aside for a 
 time, in order that Autumn (now received from the Old Water Colour 
 Society) might at last be completed. On November 1 1 , he wrote : — 
 
 " I am hard at work on ' Autumn,' having thrown over the * Study ' 
 at Agnew's request, and my own desire. . . . How glad I am that I 
 never allowed ' Autumn ' to leave me, it's ever so much better already." 
 November 15: — "There is no news; the weather is dark and dreary, 
 and makes me feel very disinclined for work. Still the ' Autumn ' is 
 going on, and is, in my opinion, much improved." November 22 : — "I 
 expect Agnew in town by Friday, and then he'll see how tremendously 
 I've fetched up ' Autumn '. . . I shall have the ' Moss Bank ' in the 
 Exhibition which opens on Saturday." November 27 : — "I am depressed 
 in my work, and can not get the brutal * Autumn ' off my hands, do 
 all I will. . . I have begun another card for Lewis, greatly to his 
 delight." December 1 : — " I am quite well, and am just on the point oi 
 finishing — what I need not say — I'm sick of the very name." December 
 4 : — " I am all serene, and have been working well ; so well that Agnew 
 will take the beastly thing with him to Manchester after all, for he is 
 still in town. . . I am quite yearning to get at the big picture. Fan 
 will tell you the opinion of a good and clever man named Mason, 
 who saw it yesterday." With the remark that it has been etched by Mr. 
 Macbeth, Autumn may now be finally left. 
 
 Unfortunately, the letter referred to above, in which was recorded 
 George Mason's opinion of the big picture (presumably Bather s\ has 
 been destroyed. There is, however, no doubt that Mason held Walker 
 in very high esteem. One evening, Mr. Leslie and my brother had been 
 dining at Mason's house, and, as Mr. Leslie is good enough to tell me : — 
 *' We had been talking over the merits and demerits of a number of our 
 contemporary brother brushes, and at last Mason said, ' Well, who do 
 you think is the biggest genius of the present day .^ ' and then he said, 
 * Freddy Walker ' ; to which Marks and I simultaneously assented." 
 
 It was in this month of December that Walker insured his life, and 
 
l86: 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 67 
 
 F 2 
 
 k 
 
68 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. vi 
 
 though much has been said of his bearing about him " the germs of in- 
 sidious disease," he not only passed, but passed well. Writing to his 
 brother, in great spirits, on the day on which he had seen the doctor, he 
 says : — " I'm all hunks, I'm going to see the Clique to-night and feel 
 equal to anything ; 'cos why. I went to the insurance doctor this 
 morning, and he complimented me on my chest and circulation, there ! 
 So the insurance goes on all serene. I dined with Lewis yesterday ; his 
 ticket will be quite a success." 
 
 This invitation card — a beautiful design of Minerva and Apollo, 
 seated one on either side of a wreathed and massive pedestal, crowned 
 by a shallow vase — was etched on copper. The comic mask lying at 
 Apollo's feet is one of Walker's many caricatures of my brother. 
 
 During the autumn of this year, Mr. Agnew, having become in- 
 terested in the firm of Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, had asked Walker, 
 as a favour, to contribute a drawing to the Christmas number of Once a 
 Week, of which periodical the firm were the proprietors. Walker agreed, 
 and though the drawing was not ready in time for that number, he was 
 working on it at the latter end of the year. The subject chosen was 
 that which was to be the first idea of the oil picture of Vagrants ; indeed, 
 the drawing appeared under that title in Once a Week for January 27, 1866. 
 There is also reference to his being engaged on the drawing of Hogarth 
 painting from a model beating a drum, of which mention has been 
 made on page 34. In addition to these. Walker had again taken up 
 the picture of Wayfarers^ and speaks of having been at work on it 
 on Christmas Day ; when, let us hope, his circulation, on which the 
 insurance doctor complimented him, stood him in good stead. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 1866 
 
 " My dear, I have begun this year with an earnest — well, prayer — 
 that I may do my duty as regards work. I will do my best, yes I will 
 do my best, even though I am more alone than I was two years ago. 
 Never mind, I know I can still rely upon the good help of some one 
 who has always had for me a word of genuine comfort, &c. Bother, 
 I am getting sentimental, and as I live it's nearly one o'clock." Thus 
 wrote Walker to his sister Mary, on January 3, 1866 — the day after 
 the second anniversary of her marriage. 
 
 The wood drawing of Vagrants was now finished, and the same 
 letter says : — " Yes, the O. A. W. block is done, and I took it down 
 on Monday to Swain's in a cab, quite like old times. I call it Vagrants 
 or Wanderers. . . I expect to be elected into the Garrick in less than 
 a fortnight, and shall then be able to buttonhole one or two R.A's 
 quietly — after dinner \ . . . I've just perpetrated myself as I shall appear 
 to-morrow. It's very bad, but what can you expect at i a.m." 
 
 " To-morroi.v \ p. ?> p.vt." 
 
yo LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 Though Wayfarers had been taken up again, it was soon put aside 
 for Bathers. On January 1 6, Walker wrote to his mother that he was 
 making charcoal sketches for the latter, and two days later says : — 
 
 "We seem to be going on the excellent plan of writing every day ; much 
 the best, even if only just one line. . . Congratulate me ; this is the first 
 day I have used my studio, as up to this I have been quite able to dis- 
 pense with it. I have designed the whole of the ' Bathers ' — there. Took 
 one design to Poll last night, and brought away a song of Haydn's 
 called ' Recollection,' which is so beautiful, that as I have blown it to-day, 
 I have felt, you know what, quite affected. I am full of hope as to my 
 work." A little later : — " My work is yielding to my endeavours, and is 
 rewarding me already. I have been getting on famously." 
 
 Walker was duly elected to the Garrick on Jan. 20. A day or two 
 after, when, as he says, he was expecting Charles Keene*'to smoke a 
 quiet dottle," he writes : — 
 
 "Jolly, my getting into the Garrick. I am bent upon slowly 
 working a certain line which has R.A. at the end, and this is a part 
 of my scheme. I shall always be dignified there. . . Lewis's ticket 
 is already getting talked about — old Keene thinks it * beautiful.' " 
 Jan. 29 : — "Lewis's was a great affair, and I seem to be tremendously 
 popular somehow. I was welcomed by a lot of ' Garricks.' . . . Tell 
 Fan that her chief occupation must be keeping me up to the fight. I 
 must go to bed early, and be at work by daylight. She will have to do 
 it with a strong hand, and we shall both have to make sacrifices." 
 
 By this time it had been arranged that Walker was to contribute the 
 drawings for Miss Thackeray's story of The Village on the Cliff., in the 
 Cornhill Magazine. Although in the following extract he speaks of the 
 story beginning next month, its publication was delayed till July, when 
 the first instalment appeared together with Walker's illustration. The 
 Two Catherines. Jan. 30 : — " The beautiful little pathetic story in the 
 Cornhilly called ' To Esther,' is by Annie Thackeray. The story I am 
 to make drawings for commences next month, and as the time is so short, 
 there will be no drawing for the first number." 
 
 During the month of January, John Walker's illness took an un- 
 favourable turn, and for some time his state was the cause of very grave 
 anxiety. 
 
 On Feb. 2, Walker writes : — 
 
 " I wish I could, my good mother, send down a phial of elixir that 
 should do all we desire for the poor old chap. Asking him to bear 
 up is almost stale, and yet he must. I was going to say, beg him 
 to look forward as hopefully as he may. I hope he has been getting 
 
1866 FREDERICK WALKER 71 
 
 out if it has been such a day as we have had, with lovely clear air, 
 and banks of rosy clouds. I have been working well, and feel the 
 
 comfort of having done my duty, or at least of having striven 
 
 I do think I shall finish both pictures, and shall show one to G. on 
 Sunday." — " G." was of course Mr. Gambart. By this time it was settled 
 that he was to have the offer of " the blind man." 
 
 Feb. 5 : — " Thank goodness my work is going on well. John was 
 here yesterday — spent the day with me, and he seemed much struck with 
 ' the bathers,' as far as it has gone, and with the other too. As long as I am 
 all right there^ I fear nothing." Feb. 6 : — " I have better news as regards 
 my work. Gambart came yesterday, and was pleased enough with the 
 blind man. I told him I really could not name the value till it was more 
 advanced. . . I told him that no one had seen the blind man, and that, 
 until some of the family had done so, I could say nothing as to price, as 
 I invariably took their opinion." 
 
 Walker's statement that none of the family had as yet seen " the 
 blind man " must not be taken literally, as what he probably meant was, 
 either that it had not been seen by them in its then state, or that the 
 question of price had not been discussed. That he did take their 
 advice as to the prices of his pictures, is a matter of fact. 
 
 On Feb. 9, Walker wrote to his brother John : — 
 
 " I have felt the great comfort of steadily working, and am very 
 hopeful, although I feel the strain sometimes ; and you know I am never 
 so well as when I have lots of exercise, which I can't possibly take 
 now. And this weather too, it's really too much, but Heavens ! if 
 I only do finish these pictures, how I shall be comforted, even though 
 I be ever so seedy in the end. . . I said just now that I'm never so 
 well as with exercise, but I am really very well. What I mean is, that I 
 have the irritable, nervous, snappish feeling, which must be resisted, or it 
 grows into something monstrous for those about me, and the only 
 antidote is a walk ; hence my bitter complaint of the wet. . . I wish I 
 could give you advice, but you know how much rests in your own hands 
 as to trifles — no one better — and you must be sick of advice ; but do try 
 and keep a brave heart." 
 
 Feb. 13, also to his brother : — 
 
 " Of course I didn't know you were so bad when I sent my last. . . 
 I only wish I could do more than sympathise with you, my boy, and 
 you know I'd see everything else at the deuce, although I am surprising 
 myself with my work. I have put in one boy that will do it^ I thinks the 
 classic fellow standing up and throwing off his shirt — will require fetching 
 up bit by bit, though he's all there now. Then I've got one 
 chap in the left corner in front, who is rushing in bellowing, and 
 
72 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 tearing off his coat ; besides the back view of two fellows who are run- 
 ning towards the water, one of them throwing up his arms. These are 
 on the other side of the picture ; and I've put in a boy in his shirt only, 
 who is helping another out of the water, and another leaning on his arms 
 with only his hat on, a la Mercury ; and when I tell you that it's seven 
 feet long, you will understand that I mean it this time. The other, the 
 blind man, has simply to be trickled off. I dined at the Garrick last 
 night with Marcus Stone, 'twas an old arrangement. . . After dinner we 
 rushed to the R. Academy to hear a lecture on painting by O'Neil, A.R.A. 
 (who spoke up for me on the Garrick Committee), and a capital lecture 
 it was, I saw one or two students who were there with me, and who are 
 students still I. . . A lot of my tunes, at least one or two, almost make me 
 feel last year at Torquay ; they remind me so strongly of the time when 
 I used to blow at 'em of an evening. Fan is playing the accompaniment 
 of one now, called ' Si la Stanchezza.' Do you remember the white violets 
 at Cockington, and sitting on that gate looking across that deep valley at 
 the plantation ^ I have that stay very deeply printed in my mind. I 
 trust you will be ready to hold up your head with the best, by the time I 
 am free, for it is my work that has stopped my being with you before 
 this." 
 
 A day or two after the above letter was written, Mr. Agnew first 
 saw the Bathers, and his emphatic approval of the picture was the cause 
 of great rejoicing at St. Petersburgh Place. On this occasion Mr. Agnew 
 gave so many reasons against sending the two pictures to the Royal 
 Academy that Walker decided to give up all idea of finishing Wayfarers 
 in time for the Exhibition, and devote his energies to Bathers. 
 
 On February 19 he wrote to his mother : — ■ 
 
 "All right, picture going on swimming I don't work 
 
 unless I feel at my strongest." February 24 : — " I haven't any- 
 thing to write about, save that I hav6 come to one or two hitches 
 in my work. I have overcome one, and of course made it all the 
 better afterwards, and now I'm wallowing in a regular big 'un, no 
 less than an uncertainty as to the size of certain figures. But it is 
 
 sure to come right Should I break down in my work, I'll 
 
 come to you if only for a day." February 26 : — 'The Bathers' is 
 going on capitally, for I have got over the trouble I mentioned. I slapped 
 in a figure yesterday, which I am very pleased with, and another this 
 morning. I rather expect a visit from J. Philip the Academician, this 
 afternoon, and shall know what he thinks, at all events. I should not 
 show it to him, but he goes to Rome in a few days, and will talk about 
 
 it to the others I was at Lewis's evening on Saturday ; like all the 
 
 rest it was immensely jolly. Every one was there, lots of people want to 
 come and see my picture. A Mr. Graham, an M.P., told me he thought 
 my ' Spring' the most beautiful thing of its kind ' in the English language' ! 
 He thinks I shall never beat it, however he wants to see my present one. 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 73 
 
 and I've promised he shall." It is well known that Mr. William Graham 
 afterwards became the possessor of Bathers. 
 
 Mr. J. Philip, R.A., did come to see the picture, and though very 
 pleased with it, made several suggestions, about which Walker decided to 
 ask the advice of Sir John Millais, on whose opinion he placed great 
 reliance. 
 
 On March 4 Walker wrote to his brother : — 
 
 " If I do not proceed more rapidly with my work, I shall cut it and 
 make my appearance at Torquay on Wednesday or Thursday." .... 
 The next day to his mother : — " I am greatly bothered about my work, 
 but do not like to think of leaving it so long as I think I may get over 
 
 it without going away The time is so dreadfully short that I 
 
 really don't know what's to be done. I shall send you a line to-morrow 
 telling you how I get on ; if I don't find an improvement, I shall 
 certainly cut it for a few days." 
 
 Walker's visit to Torquay was, however, to be hastened by an 
 altogether unexpected event : the death in London, on March 6, of his 
 second surviving brother, Harry, after only a ^q.\n days' illness. The dark 
 cloud of anxiety which hung over her charge at Torquay, had barely 
 lifted for a time, when Mrs. Walker was called upon to face this new 
 sorrow. Small wonder that one so well remembers the way in which she 
 would pause in her work, and looking over her glasses, wistfully scan the 
 faces of those who remained to her. Walker at once went down to 
 Torquay to break the news to her, and wrote a long letter to his sisters 
 to say how the news had been received. From this letter there is no need 
 to quote ; it will suffice to give his mother's words to him on his return, 
 to show how he had fulfilled his mission. On March 1 1 she wrote : — 
 *' How can I thank you enough for your thoughtful loving kindness in 
 this time of trouble to us } I can tell you the trial has been so much 
 
74 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 lessened by your gentle consideration and thoughtful goodness. Ah, 
 what should I do without you, my Fred ^ I can only thank and pray God 
 to bless you, for all your goodness to your grateful Mother." 
 
 Walker came back to work, still hoping to finish the Bathers. On 
 the day the above words were written, he had, as he says, " arranged for 
 a tremendous day's work to-morrow." A couple of days later, he went, 
 as intended, to see Sir John Millais, and makes mention of a pretty little 
 incident there, which I trust all concerned will pardon me for printing. 
 After dinner, the second little girl came in to say good-night, and Walker 
 says : — " When she came round to me she said, ' Effie ' (her sister) ' says 
 that you are little Walker,' and this dot of a thing asked me if my picture 
 was getting on ! " 
 
 On March 1 5 Walker wrote to his brother : — 
 
 " I am working like a nigger at the picture, and am beginning to 
 funk not getting it done for the R.A. I funk it because I find very 
 little will be done with a rush as I want it. Those parts that I have 
 slapped in, thinking all was right, have had to come out again. I shall 
 have models at 7 o'clock, and work from that till * my eyelids will no 
 longer wag,' before I yield to the notion of not having it ready. I shall 
 see the Clique to-night at Hodgson's sketching class, but somehow I 
 cannot sketch lately." The concluding paragraph of the foregoing 
 extract is worthy of notice, as bearing on the subject of Mr. Hodgson's 
 estimate of Walker's productive powers, already referred to. 
 
 March 19, also to his brother : — 
 
 " I am going to give a day out to the Clique when the pictures are 
 sent in. I should like to hire an omnibus for the day, and call for 
 them all, I acting as conductor with a great gridironical badge and a 
 large neckcloth. . . . My picture at last begins to reward me for my 
 hard work, and I feel pretty sure of getting it finished enough to 
 send in." 
 
 March 21, still to his brother : — 
 
 " This is to ask you to get for your own reading, a book called * The 
 Water Babies,' by Charles Kingsley — the most wonderful book. I have 
 got it, and if you cannot borrow it, I'll send it down. ' The Water 
 Babies ' seems a stupid title, but that is because it is really a child's 
 book ; but it is so splendid that you will be quite fetched, both by the 
 poetical ideas, and the gentle satire and philosophy. No news ; picture 
 going on clipping. My model can scarcely keep the pose for a cough 
 that almost lifts him off his feet at times." 
 
 March 24, to his mother : — 
 
 "I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that to finish my picture 
 is simply impossible, although I shall of course work very hard. 
 
1866 FREDERICK WALKER 75 
 
 Agnew begged me not to hurry, as he felt sure that it would be 
 much more famous if time were given to it, and I cannot but 
 agree with him ; for though the intention and idea of the subject 
 are all there, there are parts of the drawing involving so much study, that 
 to rattle it off strikes me at this moment as sheer madness. I have let 
 two men see it to-day, and they think it on the eve of being so fine, that 
 it would be a thousand pities, &c. I am going round to Millais — he will 
 have nothing ready I hear — and shall try and bring him round, and his 
 opinion will be final. ... I am half distracted about this picture. No 
 one seems to be able to judge truly, for I have done so much work in the 
 last fortnight, that now and then I almost feel equal to anything, but to- 
 day I am quite off work." 
 
 March 28 : — "I am afraid my last was an absurdly gloomy letter^ 
 although it was scarcely to be wondered at, I am now perfectly happy 
 as regards the picture, I see that it would be more than miraculous to get 
 it done. I shall keep to it steadily, as though it were certainly going in. 
 Yesterday was so lovely that I cut work, and went by 10.25 to Boyne Hill 
 and walked to Hurley to see how things were going on. The place was look- 
 ing very tranquil and beautiful, and after having dinner with the old people^ 
 I took a stroll about, and then started along by the river to Marlow, 
 walked on, passed ' Gibraltar,' and Marlow Road to Cookham, had 
 a refreshing cup of tea at Ford's, and then, the sun getting rather low, I 
 started for Taplow and just caught my train. I thought of writing 
 a long letter to Jack describing everything I saw, but I saw enough for a 
 book. You see I walked quite 14 miles, and got into town quite fresh, 
 and am all the better for it to-day. I have arranged to go next week to 
 paint the water in my picture. I shall take one of my boy models with 
 me, who will sleep in Lane's cottage, outside my bedroom, on a large 
 landing — this is because I wish to ascertain the truth of some of my flesh 
 tones, and because I cannot manage a seven foot canvas without constant 
 help. Yes, I think I shall give Jack a letter describing yesterday — I 
 thought of last summer and of him all day. You seem to have secured 
 the deepest respect at Cookham, old lady, as you are sure to do wherever 
 you go." The intended letter to his brother does not appear to have 
 been written. This is to be regretted, as Walker never wrote in happier 
 vein than when filled with some such quiet beauties as he found by the 
 river's bank. 
 
 Notwithstanding what he wrote in the letter just quoted from, all 
 idea of finishing the picture was not yet given up. In a letter of 
 his sister's, dated March 30, he sends a message to his mother that, " as 
 sure as he is alive and in health, the picture will be in the Academy after 
 all." The next letter, dated from Hurley April 3, hardly, however,, 
 bears out this confident tone : — 
 
 "Here I am all snug, and just having tea comfortably — shall return 
 on Friday I think. I am expecting my model and servant ; he 
 
76 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VII 
 
 could not get away in time to come down with me. I have laid 
 out my plans for a jolly day's work to-morrow, everything is lovely 
 and I have a boat in readiness. ... I am quite happy about the 
 picture, and know that it will have the desired effect whenever it may be 
 •seen." — April 4 : — " Just having tea. It has been rather an aggra- 
 vating day, so showery, and rather cold too. However I have done 
 my poor old picture good, so that's a comfort, although the canvas has 
 got wet. If the wind would but get into the west, how thankful I 
 should feel. I wear my thick coat, and sealskin waistcoat, and leather 
 gaiters, and my shooting boots well greased. The boy I have with me 
 turned out this morning to have boots that were not weather proof, so I 
 -sent him into the village to buy a thick clod-hopping pair — he says they 
 are more comfortable than any he has had. The birds here are wonderful, 
 the song is a continuous one, rain or sunshine. Jolly old blackbirds that 
 seem so fond of soliloquy, and Mrs. Lane's parrot imitates the rooks in a 
 sneering tone. Alas, I look out and see the water covered with dimples 
 ■of every size : I sha'n't get any more work to-day, I fear, as it's now 
 |- to 6. I brought my flute with me, and Fan popped my Shakespeare 
 into my trunk. ... I am going to write to George Leslie, who has 
 shown true sympathy, and who has the generosity to express admiration 
 where he feels it, and has shown an absence of self^ by making comparisons 
 (before others) to his own disadvantage, in trying to express that admira- 
 tion. I don't know if I explain myself, but he has shown lovable qualities 
 that you (who have generally seen him masked under a kind of flippancy) 
 would scarcely credit. I know he will be glad to have a line to say how 
 I am getting on. . . . The rain has left off, and I think I might do 
 half an hour's work." 
 
 -r-H^ffufiLJ^y Bl^O 
 
i866 FREDERICK WALKER 77 
 
 Mr. Leslie will, I trust, forgive me for printing the above reference to- 
 him. It is a pleasure to know that Walker fully reciprocated the kindly 
 feelings to which Mr. Leslie has given expression in Our River. The 
 letter to him, which probably contained the drawing of 'The Hurley Bird^ 
 here reproduced, was as follows : — 
 
 April 4. — " I know you will like to hear how we — the picture and 
 myself — get on, and we're very well, thank you, in spite of the abominable 
 cold wind. I came down yesterday afternoon. The case was of course 
 too big to go on a cab, so the man who sees to the garden at St. P. Place 
 undertook to send it to Paddington, and it went there in a brick cart 
 [that had just brought a load of gravel] and I followed in the Hansom of 
 our daily life. At Maidenhead, a dog-cart was made to bear the precious 
 load, greatly to the astonishment of the chaw-bacons on the road. I 
 don't know how it was managed — it appeared to me to stick out yards, 
 behind, and the whole thing rocked from side to side in a most exciting 
 way. However, we got here safely, and after a cup of tea, I took a walk 
 to my pollard willow — and saw that it was good — then started to meet 
 and to bully the wretched boy who was to have accompanied me — and 
 didn't. He had followed in the next train, and I met him at a chalk 
 cutting in the twilight, looking so fetched at the novelty of the situation, 
 that I e'en forebore. — Well, this morning I got into my boat [like 
 R. Crusoe] and pulled in [the boy becomes hopelessly idiotic directly he 
 steps into the boat] to the place, and had just got into that jolly state 
 over the thing which makes one oblivious of time, when splash, down 
 comes the rain, and we had to go as hard as we could pelt to the 
 little Medmenham public, where I looked out and blessed the rain for an 
 hour. Then we got back again to work, but it came down again such a 
 drencher that my poor bathers had a taste of the real thing, and 
 my canvas is like a drum. But I warn't to be beat, for at 6 it cleared 
 up, and I popped out again and fetched it a nasty one that time — as.- 
 you'd say." 
 
 The next day Walker wrote from Hurley to his eldest sister : — 
 
 " I shall endeavour to get home to-morrow, but it must depend upon 
 weather &c. I have been rather depressed to-day about the work. The 
 morning was frightful ; horrible cold wind, black sky, and raining hard, it 
 seemed striving against impossibilities. However it has cleared up, and 
 all right but for the eternal east wind. When will it lose its bitterness } 
 But really I, even I, was astonished at the blackness of this morning's 
 sky. Old Lane said * Well a don't know as ever I see sich a thing afore.' " 
 There were now but three or four days to " sending-in day," and on his 
 return to London, Walker finally abandoned the idea of having the 
 picture ready in time. 
 
 The " day out to the Clique" duly came off on April 1 1, and next day 
 Walker wrote the following account for his brother's benefit : — 
 
 " I flatter myself I gave them as good a dinner at Richmond as I ever 
 
78 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 tasted. We took the 'bus from the Norfolk. Hotel near the Great Western, 
 and I conducted 'em. We passed this house, and Fan had put an enormous 
 silver gridiron on the window, and they cheered as we caught sight of Fan 
 and the sacred emblem. I arranged to dine at the Castle, Richmond, with 
 lawn, &c., going down to the river. We met at half-past lo, drove 
 straight to Richmond, left hats, &c., at the Castle, sherry and bitters 
 all round, and then drove off to Hampton, walked through the gardens 
 of the Court, and lunched at a little boating public famed for its good 
 cheer. We should have dined there, but that I found out the day before 
 (when I went down to arrange) that there were no billiards or skittles to 
 be had anywhere if it came on wet, which it did in right good style ; so 
 we all got into the 'bus, and got back to Richmond at half-past 4, had 
 -a cup of jolly tea and a wash, and settled down to pool seriously. 
 Cleared up, with beautiful sky at sunset, we walked about the lawn and 
 •enjoyed the river, and got very peckish, did a little jumping, and sat down 
 to dinner 20 to 7, beginning with oysters and sauterne. The cham- 
 pagne was stunning, and the wine altogether so good, that although we 
 ■didn't stint ourselves, I am as fresh as a daisy this morning. Du Maurier, 
 who is an hon. member, sang capitally, we sat down a dozen, and all got 
 up again. CaJderon was at the table end, and I made my speech like a 
 man ; and at 10 we were thinking of moving, after coffee and swizzle. 
 We all went home singing lovely, and in charity with all men. I think 
 
 they will all remember the day with pleasure Leslie completely 
 
 stopped all art talk, from beginning to end — said that it wasn't to 
 be done." Hitherto, it had been the practice to conduct these outings on 
 a much more modest scale ; and Walker's munificence, though surely not 
 arising from ostentation, was, my brother says in his book already referred 
 to, the cause of their being discontinued. 
 
 On April 1 7 Walker wrote to his mother : — 
 
 " I have been calling myself all kinds of names for not writing to 
 you or to Jack (for one seems to answer for the other), but I've been to 
 Beddington and Croydon. Began a little water colour (slight) until 
 next week, when I hope to be in full fig to return to my ' iles.' .... 
 I sent off the picture to the Water Colour yesterday." 
 
 This picture — The Bouquet — was Walker's sole contribution to 
 the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society of 1866. 
 The " little water colour" was that shown at the Winter Exhibition of 
 the Society in this year — No. 413 in the catalogue — and though sent in 
 without title, has always been known in the family as The Spring of 
 Life. It has, however, been lately exhibited at the Guildhall Art 
 Gallery under the title of In an Orchard. Walker went to Bedding- 
 ton, as he says, and found the little cherry-tree, which gave rise to 
 the drawing, in full blossom. His sister and two of our children 
 supplied the human interest, and the lamb, borrowed for the occasion, 
 completed the composition. This beautiful drawing, with its flood of 
 sunlight, was but a short time on hand, and has been considered by some to 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 79 
 
 'n 
 
 ¥. 
 
 
 
 
 The Spring of Life. 
 
8o LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 be one of the most successful of Walker's minor works. It was fortunate 
 enough to secure Mr. Ruskin's approval as having "right sunshine in it."' 
 
 Early in May, Walker, accompanied by Mr. Agnew and another 
 friend, paid a second short visit to Paris, and again there is little to record 
 in the letters he wrote from there. Nothing can be found indeed of any 
 interest beyond the following : — ■" We have been to see the lovely 
 Gerome, and are crushed by the splendour of his place. Such artistic 
 perfection, and such a brick of a man ! " It must not, however, be sup- 
 posed that Walker was insensible to the charms of Paris, for in a former 
 letter to his brother he had written : — " I have been thinking all the 
 morning of Paris. I recollect saying once as we sat in the jolly sunny 
 gardens after a wonderful French breakfast, that surely it must be one of 
 the few favoured loafing grounds on the earth's surface. I always find 
 pleasure in recollecting the scenes at Paris." 
 
 The following letter is characteristic. It was written- in reply to a 
 complaint that a join in the paper of a water colour drawing, " running 
 as it does right through the centre of the face and figure of the man- 
 servant, is too distinctly seen" : — 
 
 "My Dear Sir, 
 
 In answer to your letter, I cannot help thinking that you are over 
 anxious as to the join in the paper. Those who wish for my work 
 will not (or ought not to) be deterred by so small a matter. In the 
 light in which the little picture was painted, the join was not percep- 
 tible, and in such a light it should be seen, join or no join : nor can I 
 ever undertake to paint pictures that look their best in every light. 
 Any alteration that may be necessary to the artistic merit of my work,. 
 I am ever ready to make while pictures are in my hands, and in certain 
 instances, after they have left my hands ; but a suggestion to repaint a. 
 figure which I am satisfied with, in order that the surface may be more 
 perfect, I fear I must decline to take. Trusting that these reasons- 
 will appear to you just, 
 
 " I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 *' Very truly yours, 
 
 " Frederick Walker." 
 
 I regret that, even with the clue aflx)rded by the mention of the man- 
 servant in the letter of complaint, I have been unable to identify the 
 drawing referred to. Indeed, from Walker's habit of alluding to these- 
 minor designs merely as " the little water colour," (or as he mostly 
 wrote it, " the little w. colour,") it is frequently a matter of difficulty 
 to ascertain on what particular drawing he was engaged. 
 
 About the time of Walker's return from Paris, Mrs. Walker and 
 her son came back to London, and shortly afterwards went again to 
 Cookham for the summer. Walker remained behind for some time, as 
 
^o 
 
1866 FREDERICK WALKER 8i 
 
 he was engaged on the first illustration for T^he Village on the Cliffy and 
 was also making a final effort to get the Wayfarers off his hands. On 
 June 15, he writes : — 
 
 " I am doing my best to finish the blind man, and have just sent off 
 a proof of the Cornhill drawing to Miss Thackeray. Swain has cut it 
 capitally, I think." 
 
 June 18 : — "Shall stick to the picture now ; the boy's head is far 
 better I think — of a higher kind. ... I have a fire in my painting room, 
 and shall finish the picture straight off now ... I shall come to you 
 next Sunday, I think, if not before — all depends on the picture." 
 
 A week or so later, the picture was at length out of hand — 
 rather more than three years from the time when Walker first went to 
 Haslemere in search of a suitable background. It was exhibited at Mr. 
 Gambart's Gallery in Pall Mall, in November of this year, and has been 
 etched by Mr. C. Waltner. 
 
 At the end of June, Walker went to Cookham, taking the Bathers 
 and all his materials with him. It was, I believe, during this visit that 
 the drawing of The Street^ Cookham^ was begun. He also worked a 
 good deal on the Bathers^ apparently to his satisfaction. He returned to 
 London at the end of July, before going on a visit to his friend Mr. R. 
 Ansdell, R.A., who rented some salmon fishing on the river Spean, at 
 Corrichoillie, near Kingussie, Inverness-shire. This was the first of 
 several visits Walker paid to Mr. Ansdell's hospitable home in the 
 Highlands, where he spent some most delightful days. It was on this 
 first visit that he was initiated into the mysteries of salmon fishing. On 
 July 28, he wrote from town to his brother, in great spirits, giving some 
 rough drawings of himself in his ordinary river-side working dress, and 
 in Highland costume, headed "before" and "after"; and says in the 
 letter : — 
 
 "... All the Hyde Park railings were pulled up by the British 
 workmen last Monday to show that they deserve the franchise. Such 
 a row, military called out I hear ; while we were peacefully doing 
 nothing by the whispering reeds — grand idea ! Ho for Scotland." 
 
 On the day of his departure from town — July 30 — he wrote to his 
 youngest sister : — 
 
 "Just a line before starting. ... I have been fetching up the 
 Bathers to rights, I can tell you — you'll never know it for the same 
 picture ; and far from wearying of it, I long to be at it again, and 
 on Saturday I did a capital day's work from a naked small boy, who 
 dodged behind a bush each time a boat passed. Ansdell has been catch- 
 ing lots of salmon. One '^^ lbs., after an hour and a half's hard 
 fighting." 
 
82 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VII 
 
 Walker reached Corrichoillie in the evening of July 31. On 
 August I, he wrote to his mother : — 
 
 " Here I am after a good night's rest and a breakfast, quite restored 
 and prepared to go in vigorously for everything. It's most lovely and 
 gigantic, but must give particulars in the next, for Ansdell is just 
 going out for the day. Ben Nevis is behind the house, with streaks 
 and plains of snow on its summit. Strawberries are not yet ripe, and 
 they are just thinking of cutting the hay." 
 
 Sunday, Angus t 5. — " At last I can sit down and quietly write with- 
 out fear of being told that some one or some meal is being kept waiting. 
 We daren't fish to-day. . . . Truly this is a life that I had no idea of — 
 the grandeur of the place is beyond belief. The last day or two has 
 been windy and occasional heavy rain, enormous banks and rifts of 
 cloud have partly hid the hills, and now and then a gleam of sunshine 
 would show, high up, a glorious far off peak, with perhaps a silver 
 thread or two, that one knew to be a cascade, destined to swell the noble 
 river that rushes within sound and sight of the house. I have been 
 quite unable to see a single weed in the stream, such as fills the Thames — 
 the river is too swift — nothing but rock and great round stones, made 
 round by the everlasting tumble and riot. Some of the rocks are of 
 quartz, just like marble, with black streaks. At night one might be at 
 Hastings, opposite the sea, for the wind and river make just the same 
 noise. We have breakfast at 8.30, being already fully dressed (and I 
 find my dress is mere nonsense. Ansdell haas pair of macintosh cover- 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 83 
 
 ings for the feet and legs ; these go over socks and trousers, then outside 
 these a pair of rough wool socks to prevent the friction of the india- 
 rubber against the shoes, which are buckled across the feet, and have 
 nails like ship rivets). Our man is meanwhile smoking his morning 
 pipe outside, and putting the tackle together. The sandwiches and 
 flasks of whisky being ready, we sally forth ; and from that time to 
 8 p.m. we are doing every kind of violent exercise, the hardest being 
 throwing the fly. I have made very poor work of it, and as I have been 
 unable to wade, like Ansdell and the man, I have been unable to get at 
 the good pools. . . . The man who accompanies us does not trouble 
 himself with macintosh, but wades all day across falls or any other 
 
 lU£ctf 
 
 place, up to his middle. He is a frightfully 'cute chap, and loves 
 fishing with a frightful intensity. The way he gaffs a salmon is won- 
 derful — waiting at the bank, in or out of water as the case may be — and 
 directly the fish comes within reach, down goes the hook bang into Mr. 
 Salmon, through his back or anywhere, and with a heave, pitches him 
 clean on to dry land. He does not speak English very well ; but, like the 
 few of the natives about here, very grammatically. They learn it as a 
 Frenchman would, in order to understand the few English swells who 
 visit them. They invariably talk Gaelic among themselves. . . . I do 
 wish I could give you some idea of the wild weird beauty of this stream, 
 as it rushes over the rocks through one of the deep glens that it has made 
 itself, and then over a fall, with a deafening row, where the salmon leap 
 
 G 2 
 
84 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 up like bars of silver. And then, one perhaps looks up, and over the 
 pines one sees a dark indigo hill (if the clouds permit), with its solemn 
 outline. I picked the enclosed harebells and heartsease among the grass, 
 they grow thick as clover — the bells sometimes eight on one stalk, I 
 placed them among the leaves of my cheque-book, but their glory has 
 departed — they were double the size too. I need not say that we are 
 ready for dinner by 8, and jolly it is, and always salmon or sea-trout 
 during the fish course, and winding up with the soft smoke and grog hour, 
 so forgive me if I haven't written to my dear family — I have talked of it, 
 and thought of it. I am glad Jack is not here ; for I do think that, at 
 present, the day's routine far too rough to be really beneficial ; but I 
 think I see a picture of future happiness here (if we are spared), which is 
 the truest kind of country pleasure, because the simplest, only it requires 
 money. My present experience is useful, as it shows me that money is 
 worth getting, to enjoy such as this. 1 was saying so to Ansdell, and he 
 answered, ' Ah ! you have it all before you ; I am getting an old man, 
 and must make the most of my time here.' .... In the dining-room are 
 all Leech's enlarged woodcuts of Mr. Briggs's fishing experiences, hanging 
 on the walls. Agnew gave the set to Ansdell, and I am going to write 
 for a set to be sent to Cookham. They are strained and varnished, and I 
 expect they are very cheap. God bless you, my dear mother. Be sure and 
 send word if I can do anything or send anything. I shall have received 
 great benefit from this delightful change, I'm sure, and hope that you 
 will see a healthier and better edition of your own Fred." 
 
 The illustration to The Village on the Clif- for August — Beamish and 
 Catherine — had been finished early in July ; but, owing to some delay 
 in the arrival of the MS., there was no time for a large illustration for 
 September. The only drawing for the story, for that month, was an 
 initial letter, done at Corrichoillie, of a girl standing on a croquet ground. 
 It was of this subject Walker made the sketch referred to in the following 
 extract. 
 
 August 9 : — " I have just finished the Cornhill initial letter, and so 
 feel inclined to get out. Have made a little water colour sketch of 
 the Cornhill subject for Miss Ansdell, who has been sitting very kindly, 
 and they are all kindness itself. We had dancing last night, and the 
 servants and men came in and did reels and flings. Ansdell sent in just 
 now a splendid salmon, by two of the small boys who witnessed the 
 
 fight." 
 
 August 12, to his brother. After giving a long account of his 
 success among the trout — the first salmon was yet to come — Walker 
 wrote : — 
 
 " The head keeper lives in a cottage behind the house, and is a 
 tall well-made fellow ; always wears rough knickerbocks. He has two 
 boys, the elder with a face perfectly beautiful — would be on a girl's 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 85 
 
 shoulders. He is very tall, and always goes about in a kilt, without 
 
 shoes and stockings, as all boys and girls do You know I went 
 
 trout fishing one day with one of Mr. Blair's keepers, ' Sandie.' It was 
 very wet, and we took refuge in a shepherd's hut while waiting for the 
 coach. Sandie and the shepherd were soon deep in Gaelic, while the half- 
 naked children, and two or three great sheep dogs, regarded us with great 
 interest ; the latter evidently as intruders. Sandie sat in a recess which 
 formed the family bedstead, the wife of course had an infant at the breast. 
 The dogs rushed out in a body at our approach, as they always do, and 
 a pet lamb made up the picture." 
 
 — "A-^ y/'::r^^x^:^^r^A^ 
 
 Soon after this, Walker killed his first salmon, 
 wrote : — 
 
 On August 19, he 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that yesterday I caught and killed two 
 salmon ; one 9|- lbs., and a young fellow of 5 lbs., so now I shall go 
 on all right, I hope. I have sent all particulars to Jack, and if you are 
 interested, he will tell you all about it." 
 
 The letter in which Walker gives the details of this crowning experi- 
 ence of an angler's life is not forthcoming ; but Mr. Hodgson, in his 
 already mentioned paper in the Magazine of Art^ quotes the commentary 
 of an eye-witness of the fight as follows : — " I can recollect the words 
 of old Green, the fisherman on the Spean : * It's a nice gentleman, is 
 Mr. Walker ; when he was catching the first salmon, och ! I never 
 saw any man so pleased whatefFer ; he wad be making me drink whisky. 
 
86 LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, vii 
 
 and the fish drink whisky too.' " Mr. Hodgson gives this as an instance 
 of the way in which Walker would be " childishly elated." The making 
 the fish drink whisky may possibly seem to point that way. Green, in 
 spite of the extraordinary nature of the proceeding as regards himself, 
 probably rose to the occasion without much difficulty. 
 On August 24, Walker wrote : — 
 
 " I have begun a study of the head-keeper's handsome boy, which if 
 finished will form a comforting ' pill ' on my departure, viz. by paying 
 expenses." 
 
 August 26: — "I'm doing a little water colour sketch of Mrs. 
 Morley, for Mrs. Ansdell, but I regret to say that the study of the 
 boy I began has fallen through — quite a failure somehow." 
 
 Walker had intended to return to London at the end of the month, 
 to prepare the October illustration for The Village on the Cliff — Eet us 
 Drink to the Health of the Absent. He was, however, not only loath to 
 end his holiday, but particularly wished to do some work in water colour 
 before leaving. He accordingly decided on attempting the illustration 
 at Corrichoillie. On August 31 he wrote : — 
 
 " The panels and your letter came last night, and I commence work 
 after to-day, which is the last day Ansdell has one of the two ' beats.' 
 I have written to Pall Mall for the Cornhill slips. Every one has 
 volunteered to sit, or do anything to help me, but I shall immediately 
 come to town if the subjects cannot well be worked here." 
 
 Septe7?tber i : — " I am going to raise a good thing out of the ashes 
 of the one I mulled, and shall hope to have it seeable when W. Agnew 
 appears in a day or two." 
 
 This " good thing " was the drawing Fisherman and Boy., exhibited at 
 the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, in 1867. 
 Mr. Hodgson speaks of it as an " exquisite drawing," and a " gem." 
 
 September 4 : — " Pray send at once the book ' La Normandie,' I have 
 been looking out for it ever since I had the letter. Both were from Miss 
 Thackeray, and the book contains the dress that Reine wears. I am hard 
 at work, too, with the water colour. W. Agnew is coming on Saturday 
 or Sunday." 
 
 September 5 : — "Just a line. All going on well. Agnew comes on 
 Saturday, and I shall finish the water colour before leaving. I am 
 to-day doing an initial letter for the Cornhill ; the whole of the proof 
 sheets have not yet arrived, but I shall be able to do the large one here, 
 I think. I had a long letter from Miss Thackeray. Have not been 
 fishing at all." 
 
i866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 87 
 
 Fisherman and Boy. 
 
88 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 On September 6, in a letter to his brother, after the usual fishing talk 
 that went on between them, Walker wrote : — 
 
 " And now I may as well tell you why I work here. I lost ^15 
 somehow, while wading I think, but two notes one for £\o, and one 
 for ^5, came out of my waistcoat pocket somehow. This occurred 
 about a week after I came down ; so I resolved to take it out of the place 
 somehow, and I am. . . Pray accept the ' Briggs ' prints, my boy, with my 
 good wishes ; they have been a great comfort to us all here. The more 
 one looks, the more absurdly true they seem ; the boats and rocks I can 
 almost identify." 
 
 September 13 : — "I sent oiFthe Cornhill drawing yesterday, after a tre- 
 mendous struggle, and I hope it will be well cut, for I took pains with it. 
 So now I have only to finish the water colour — that is, as nearly as possible 
 here." 
 
 September 16, to his sister Fanny : — " Agnew seems delighted with my 
 water colour, as far as it goes. I shall be able, I think, to leave this on 
 Thursday. By that time I shall have done all that's necessary here. 
 The Cornhill drawings went off quite satisfactorily, but very late ; and 
 then only because Minnie Thackeray sent me a lot of MS. I chose a 
 subject where Reine, Catherine, and some children, dine together in 
 Normandy. The girls sat like bricks." 
 
 September 17, to his mother : — 
 
 " Well, my dear, I am homesick at last — tremendously so this 
 morning^ — and shall certainly do my best to leave early on Thursday 
 morning, so as to be with you (if you are at the 'Burgh) on Friday 
 night ... I am afraid you have been exerting yourself a good 
 deal, now that you have so many visitors. Pray do take care of 
 yourself, that you may keep your health, and long be my comfort (as 
 you are to all you have to do with). I mean to work very hard when I 
 get back. I must be a few days in town to finish this water colour, and 
 arrange one or two matters, such as making my studio comfortable for 
 the winter." 
 
 Walker returned to London at the time he mentions, and after a 
 flying visit to his mother and brother at Cookham, was soon hard at 
 work. One of the drawings he was engaged on was The Street., Cookham., 
 which he intended for the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour 
 Society. In order that he might carefully study the geese, which form so 
 prominent a feature in the drawing, he had three of the birds sent to 
 London from Cookham, and housed them at St. Petersburgh Place. 
 During October, he finished the Scotch drawing of the Fisherman and 
 Boy., practically finished The Street., Cookham., prepared the November 
 illustration for The Village on the Cliff— Dick and Reine — and once more 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 89 
 
 K 
 
 H 
 
 < 
 
 u 
 H 
 
90 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 took up Bathers. The geese — two geese and a gander — after their 
 unusual experiences in London, were sent down to the cottage at 
 Beddington, to be added to the already numerous live stock there ; and 
 duly increased and multiplied. 
 
 At the end of October, Mrs. Walker and the invalid (who had left 
 Cookham early in the month) began another term of banishment. They 
 went first to Shanklin ; soon, however, making a move to Hastings, on 
 account of its greater accessibility and liveliness. The picture of IVay- 
 farers was now about to be exhibited at Mr. Gambart's. 
 
 On November 4, Walker wrote to his brother as follows : — 
 
 " I cannot tell what the verdict is on my picture ' Wayfarers ' at 
 Gambart's, for the crush was so hateful, and everything so distasteful to 
 me, that I merely nodded to people, and got out as quickly as possible, 
 looking very sulky, I fear. On our arrival there, I stopped behind to 
 pay for the cab, and a great animal of a policeman was bullying the 
 cabby for not ' moving on ' quicker, so 1 stopped him ; for cabby 
 was giving me change. Mr. Bobby said, ' But here's a carriage waiting,' 
 and sure enough there was, and a very gorgeous one ; but I said, ' I 
 can't help that, Vm of more importance than a carriage.' The poor 
 peeler's jaw almost dropped, he caved so completely ; and then I 
 walked majestically in. I have taken out the two figures on the right 
 hand of the ' Bathers ' and put them in again smaller, and somewhat 
 ■differently ; the improvement is very striking I think, and so does Fan. 
 They are more like this 
 
 I mean the bigger boy's leg to be right off the ground, and his face 
 not turned towards the small boy, and the latter's head not thrown back. 
 I shall have another figure just entering at the side, but I have not 
 arranged it yet." 
 
 The press verdict on Wayfarers was not one of unmixed approval. 
 Whilst the originality of the picture, its power, and the way it holds the 
 memory " by qualities peculiar to itself," were fully recognised ; exception 
 was taken to the execution, which was described as " peculiar," " spotty and 
 rough," "coarse yet unsubstantial," and even "slovenly." As against 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 91 
 
 ^w^j^wW^ l^/fff^f/^'' '///rf/fwWf/7~''' 
 
92 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 this, Mr. North's opinion is that, for mere painting. Walker never did 
 anything finer than the landscape in this picture. His impression is that 
 from the painting being less "tight" in execution than the majority of 
 the pictures by eminent men of that day, such as Gerome, Meissonier, 
 Holman Hunt, or even the earlier works of Millais, the critics did not 
 understand it. He remembers Walker telling him that he had painted 
 the whole of the landscape part of the picture — that is, the surface 
 painting over that which was already on the canvas — in one day. Walker 
 worked again on the figures in 1869, after the picture had come into Mr. 
 Agnew's possession. 
 
 On November 9, Walker, then at work on the sixth drawing for The 
 Village on the Cliff- — A Vacarme — wrote to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line with the enclosed, for I'm sure you must be getting 
 short of cash. I began a letter last night, but as I had been working 
 rather hard (and badly as it proved this morning) on the Cornhill 
 block, I was too tired to go on. You go into the old town of Hastings 
 for lodgings, and get a comfortable meal at such a place as ' The Ship,' 
 before looking for them." 
 
 November 22 : — " I've just come in from a jolly ride, and feel much 
 more fit to write than I may have done last time, or many other 
 times. . . . I am very much comforted about my big picture." (^Bathers.) 
 " Ah, my dear good mother, there's the root of everything. If I feel I've 
 gained a point during the day, you may see me looking tired perhaps, but 
 it doesn't require much watching to see that I'm not unhappy. The 
 dark boy is to my mind better than anything I've done yet, and I feel 
 that it is getting into ' focus ' as it were, altogether." 
 
 At the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society this year. 
 Walker exhibited four drawings — The Street^ Cookham^ The Spring of Life y 
 The Introduction (a reproduction in water colours of a wood drawing for 
 Once a Week for April 27, 1861)^ and one other; the first named 
 being the only one that bore a title. The subject of the fourth drawing 
 — No. 385 — which could not be ascertained when the list of exhibited 
 works was prepared for the exhibition of 1876, was a woman seated near 
 a window, sewing ; and was either the portrait of Mrs. Morley, done at 
 Corrichoillie, or another version of the same subject. These four 
 drawings met with unqualified praise. Of The Street^ Cookhamy it was 
 said : — " All these geese have character, and various character too," 
 " We never saw the bird more efficiently represented," " The village 
 street is as good as a page of George Eliot," the figures " are all real 
 people, not conventional artist's figures." The Spring of Life was said 
 to be " tenderly and poetically treated," and the woman sewing was 
 pronounced " a gem of beautiful colour." On November 30, Walker 
 was elected a full member of the Old W^ater Colour Society. The Streety 
 Cookhaniy has been etched by Mr. Birket Foster. 
 
 See page 28, 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 93 
 
94 LIFE AND LErTERS OF chap, vii 
 
 On November 26, Walker wrote to his brother : — 
 
 " . . . . My small works at the Old Water Colour seem to be a 
 success, from all I hear. Wait a bit, I am going it at the ' Bathers ' — 
 been doing more to the dark boy to-day. Tell Fan that I have begun 
 the little water colour for the Yankee at New York, 'tis the last Cornhill 
 subject you know." {Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent.') 
 
 Though painted at this time, this subject was not exhibited till the 
 year 1870. 
 
 November 27, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line to say I shall probably be with you next Sunday, and 
 stay over Monday. Miss Thackeray has been here this afternoon, 
 and there is to be a sea subject for next Cornhill, which I shall bring 
 down with me, as it's wanted very early ; and it's the last^ thank good- 
 ness. I have been doing the little water colour to-day. Mrs, Morley 
 with nurse and small boy came to-day, and I nobbled the kid for the 
 water colour." 
 
 November 28 : — " .... I know you are always pleased to see 
 anything favourable in the way of criticisms on your son's work, no 
 matter how worthless they are. In my opinion they are worse than 
 useless very often, for they are read by people before the work is 
 seen, and then their judgment is influenced unfairly." 
 
 Walker went down to Hastings with the wood block, and on his 
 return wrote : — 
 
 "... I was greatly disappointed with the work I did just before 
 leaving — the boy with the shirt I mean. However, I have given him 
 a regular hot'un to-day, and no mistake ; and I'm very much deceived 
 if I haven't done it this time. I cannot tell till to-morrow for certain, 
 but I have found out the reason of its looking hitherto slightly 
 strained. Everything is all right here, and very snug. The cats gave 
 me a welcome, and the servants seemed glad .... The fellows " (at 
 the Arts Club) " were congratulating me upon my things at the Water 
 Colour Gallery. I am surprised at the effect they seem to have." 
 
 December 7:— "Just a line, for I'm right in the middle of the 
 Cornhill which must be done to-night or not at all ; and a pretty hard 
 day I've had of it — three models standing at once." 
 
 December 17 : — ". . . . Worked hard at 'Bathers' all yesterday, 
 
 and have got the two boys at the right the thing at last . . . B called 
 
 and bored me, and then I got out and called on the Thackerays, where, 
 
 perhaps, I should have bored them, but they were out No news 
 
 to-day. I've been working on little water colour, and shall go at it 
 
1 866 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 95 
 
 from the two Ansdell kids to-morrow (Alice and Harold). My cats, 
 have been plaguing my life out — a perfect nuisance." 
 
 This letter contains a sketch of the two boys on the right, in which 
 the positions are the same as those of the sketch of November 4. The 
 finished picture shows, however, that the smaller boy had yet to undergo 
 considerable alteration. 
 
 After much anxious debate as to the advisability of the journey, John 
 Walker and his mother came up from Hastings for Christmas — the last 
 but one that all four were to spend together. The wood block of which 
 Walker speaks in the letter of December 7 was that entitled. Out of the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and in the face of Dick, as he lies on 
 the beach, there is a strong likeness to Walker himself. As this closed 
 the series, it will be well to give here Mrs. Richmond Ritchie's estimate 
 of the drawings, and of Walker, for which I am indebted to her : — 
 
 " When I was writing The Village on the Cliffy I was very nervous 
 about it, and quite at an end of my ideas and resources, when one day 
 came the first proofs of the lovely drawings. They were so completely 
 everything that I had ever hoped or imagined, that the sight of them 
 gave me a fresh start, and I have always said he wrote the book not I, 
 for the figures were to me almost miraculous realisations of what I tried 
 to imagine the people might become. As a curious instance of a sort 
 of brain wave, I had a nightmare one night, and saw the figure of Reine> 
 
96 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK IVALKER ch. vii 
 
 very bright, coming down upon me, and when the little letter piece came 
 next month, there was the identical figure I had dreamed of, with a 
 basket, descending ; no longer a nervous terror, but a delightful reality. 
 I have always thought M. le Maire playing the cornet was the keystone 
 of the little story. My sister and I walked through a fog one evening 
 to the studio, and he showed it to us on the block. I was dreadfully 
 disappointed, I remember, when he said he could not spare time to 
 illustrate Old Kensington. I wrote him a vehement letter, which I 
 meant as a joke — I have always been grieved when I remember that he 
 thought I could be in earnest. The day before my sister married, he 
 came to see us, and said he should like to give her a drawing for a 
 wedding present, and at her request, then and there he sat down and 
 made a most charming, delicate, little pencil sketch of our little adopted 
 niece, a child then — now a woman and married, and to whose husband 
 I have given the sweet little picture. We had a delightful three days' 
 visit from him once at Freshwater, and I remember his pleasure in the 
 place, and how each morning he went up the beacon hill before breakfast, 
 coming down with a drawing. There was one lovely summer's day too, 
 which I remember, when we were on the river — young people picnicking 
 — and Mr. Walker met us in a punt and brought us to the Cliefden 
 woods, where a kettle was boiling, and a sylvan tea spread out to greet 
 us. Everything he did had a sort of grace of its own. He had a true 
 heart as well as a true genius, and all who ever have known him must 
 have felt the reality of both in their intercourse with him, and do not 
 forget it." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 1867 
 
 When John Walker returned to Hastings early in January, 1867, he 
 was accompanied by his eldest sister ; and Mrs. Walker remained in town 
 till the middle of the month. Walker was now engaged on the third 
 of the invitation cards for Mr. Arthur Lewis — a group of musicians and 
 dancers, " parodying," as Mr. Claude Phillips says in the Portfolio^ " but 
 ever so slightly, some Anacreontic scene from a red-on-black vase." The 
 following letter on the subject, was addressed to Mr. W. H. Hooper : — ■ 
 
 " I have been for some time wanting to write and ask you if you would 
 care to undertake the engraving of a card for A. Lewis's evenings, which 
 are a month later this year. I am just about to do something very 
 simple, and fancy figures on a black ground, similar to those on an old 
 Etruscan vase ; and in that case it would be well to have the card of a 
 dull red, the figures and writing showing red, the rest of course being 
 black. I went to-day to the British Museum, and think that something 
 done on this plan would be novel." 
 
98 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 January ii, to his brother and sister : — 
 
 " Why do you want letters from me that have no news that has not 
 been already given you by the Mrs. } I can only give you detail. You 
 will be glad to know that I worked very well to-day, that is, in the 
 morning. . . On Monday I had a jolly and almost touching letter from 
 Arthur, who fancied on Sunday night (because I suddenly grew and felt 
 a sort of dark grey) that he had said something that had hurt me, and 
 saying that he should never forgive himself if any interruption of friend- 
 ship took place, &c. Of course I answered from my heart, and called 
 on him next day, and told him I'd go next Sunday. He has just sent 
 me a ticket for the next Wanderers and Morays combined, at Lord 
 Gerald's. . . I took Mamma and Poll to the British Museum in grand 
 style. It being a private day, we wandered among all the glories by 
 ourselves, not even with the gallant Holmes. Since you. Fan, went, 
 there has been a most lovely and large collection of ancient jewellery 
 and gems placed in the little room with the Portland Vase. I did as 
 well as I could in these vile times with L. Colls as to the little water 
 colours. Both will be finished to-morrow or next day ; the candle light 
 one is, already. . . How did you like news of Old — poor Old Croydon 
 Church being burnt through carelessness .^ " 
 
 This candle-light drawing was the water colour of A Vacarme — " M. 
 le Maire playing the cornet " — from The Village on the Cliff. It was 
 exhibited at the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society of 
 this year, together with the Fisherman and Boy done at Corrichoillie. 
 The other drawing was presumably Let us Drink to the Health of the 
 Absent ; which, though begun for the " Yankee at New York," does not, 
 as far as can be ascertained, appear to have been sold to him. 
 
 On January i6 Walker wrote to his mother, who had then returned 
 to Hastings : — 
 
 " It seemed rather hard duty I thought, my dear, going away into 
 the beastly cold as you did yesterday, and I only hope that to-day 
 you are not having it as we are here. I assure you it is simply 
 intolerable. I have been out, and defy any one to be more than just 
 miserable. Every one looks it, and with my cold I hated the sight of 
 them all. The wind is blustering, and the dust and dirty snow bang in 
 one's eyes continually — everything looks dirty to-day. I have been to 
 
 the Museum, and have been making sketches for Arthur's card 
 
 You'll want to know all about last night, I know. Well, I got to 
 Millais' pretty punctual, and only the two Lewis's had arrived. I was 
 warmly received, and needed it, for I felt perished. Mrs. M. made me 
 
 sit in front of every one with my feet on the fender Sir E. 
 
 Landseer was presently announced, and Lucas, the builder, &c., &c., and 
 Arthur Sullivan, the musical writer, and one or two others. After dinner, 
 when we adjourned to the studio for cards and smoke, Sir Edwin was 
 
186; FREDERICK WALKER 99 
 
 jolly, and not having caught the name of your son in the general intro- 
 duction in the drawing-room, I saw him put a whispered inquiry to 
 Arthur after dinner, and then he came up and said some very pleasant 
 things, Arthur putting in a word or two, and his big brother standing 
 
 behind me Tell me, dear, if I can send anything to you. Love 
 
 to poor old Jack, he must live upon that which is to come. There be 
 many chub I trow, under the ice, and a little rod that I know of, and a 
 sun that will soon be getting warmer. I shall not be in time for post, I 
 fear. Fan is a brick to do the dutiful so. This is ever a miserable time 
 with us, and must just be lived through^ 
 
 In the next extract, under the title of Wanderers^ the reader will 
 recognise the picture of Vagrants now in the National Gallery. 
 
 January 1 7 : — " ... I have decided upon doing, as quickly as possible, 
 an oil picture (small) of the * Wanderers,' a thing I did at the beginning 
 of the year " (1866) " for Once a Week. I have forgotten how stunning a 
 subject it is, and indeed could not lay my hand on the book containing 
 my proofs, &c., but I found it this morning, and I find there is a little 
 mine of wealth as far as subject is concerned — two or three I mean to 
 rattle off, directly this of Lewis's is done. If s all rights my dear^ we shall 
 go on well now I think, and the lengthening afternoon gives me a feeling 
 of hope that I have not experienced for a long time. The frost here 
 
 continues, and so no rides ; however, it can't last long Ask old 
 
 Jack if there's anything I can possibly do for him — anything I can send 
 down — and the same to Fan. Anything of that kind is much easier done 
 than writing this letter, for it takes more time on account of no one 
 being able to help one to write. Farewell all of you. Try and be as 
 comfortable as you can. You will not, I fear, unless you try^ for the 
 time is as wretched as can be, I think. We ought not to have been born 
 in so cold a climate." 
 
 January 1 8 : — " Just a line to say that I did not get home this after- 
 noon (having gone to the Museum on account of Arthur's card) until 
 
 past 5 I began the picture of * Wanderers' this morning, and shall 
 
 get on with it as fast as I can — shall disregard 'the Bathers' till \ feel 
 inclined to take it up again. The concert last night was quite stunning, 
 
 and the number of familiar and kind faces most refreshing 
 
 There's no news. I cannot help feeling rather solitary sometimes, now 
 that you have gone ; but am all right, and my cold has nearly 
 vanished." 
 
 January 19 : — " . . . No news. I am at work on Lewis's card, and 
 on the beginning of the picture, which will be a success, I think. I 
 suppose your letters have been delayed, for up to this time none have 
 come to-day." 
 
 January 21 : — '* .... Poll has been standing to me for the 
 
 H 2 
 
lOo LIFE AISID LErrERS OF chap, viii 
 
 * Wanderers ' — the standing woman. I have been getting on beautifully, 
 and Poll is delighted. As for the card, it created a furore at Arthur's 
 last night." 
 
 January 22, to his brother : — 
 
 " Just a few lines to say that the Missus has arrived, greatly to my 
 satisfaction, and we've just had a cup of tea together. Poll came this 
 morning and stood to me for a short time. . . . The weather is still 
 intolerable, though I don't think quite so cold this afternoon, for the 
 wind is a little more S. When I'm to have another ride. Heaven only 
 knows. Bother skating, I haven't been on once ; am not at all bitten 
 with it this year, for I think my skull is rather more sensitive than 
 it used to be, and there's a good deal of black mud at the bottom of 
 all the park waters. They are not the waters that chub or trout 
 delight in, so I love them not. I wish I could see some of my 
 broad-nosed or spotted friends in their snug winter quarters. Arthur 
 will give three regular nights this season only, the fourth will be a special 
 one ; and as it is in May, you may perhaps be in the way of going, before 
 settling into your summer residence. . . . The picture I'm at will fetch 
 you — it is 4 feet long. The snow here is gradually shrinking away — 
 drying away as it were — and what is left is a fine dirty grey." 
 
 February 4, from Beddington, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 "As I expected, Lewis was quite delighted with the result of our 
 labours, and only expressed a hope that the printing might be good, and 
 that they would be done in good time, to make it a perfect success. As 
 for me, I sat with it before me in the carriage the whole way to 
 Croydon, and looked at it longer than I ever did at any engraving done 
 for me before ! In short, it made me feel happier, and helped me to 
 get through a splendid afternoon's work. More than I shall do to- 
 day, for the rain has begun to come down in deluges, and all my energy 
 in getting down by an early train brought to nought. I suppose you 
 will insist on the printer getting a crumbly look with Lewis's card. I 
 think certainly that the ink should be anything but dark or glossy. I 
 am burning to see it printed ; let them even be sent to Lewis in small 
 quantities as they are done, for I know that, even now, he is waiting to 
 issue his invitations." 
 
 February 5, to his mother, who had returned to Hastings : — 
 
 " No news, no letters, none from you this morning. I have just 
 returned from Beddington, quite sick with struggling ineffectually 
 against difficulties and vile weather. I've brought the picture home with 
 me, and shall go at it here for a day or two. Sarah knows of some 
 gipsies who are evidently brought into this world to sit for my 
 picture, they are so suited ! " 
 
186; 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 lOI 
 
 As will be gathered from the above, Beddington supplied the back- 
 ground for Vagrants. In these searchings after suitable spots, Walker 
 must have roamed about the fields a good deal ; for this place again was 
 quite out of the beaten track, though not so far from the cottage as the 
 site chosen for Wayfarers. 
 
 About this time. Walker seems to have been depressed and out of 
 health — the weather, of which he complains so bitterly, may have had 
 something to do with it — and work was interrupted. On February 25, 
 he writes to his mother : — 
 
 " I regret having sent you so depressing a note on Saturday. I have 
 been much better since, indeed I have. ... I have been working all 
 right again. George Leslie came yesterday, and said he thought it 
 splendid." 
 
 February 27 : — ". ... I am really better I assure you, and have 
 been working quite hard. The picture is going on capitally, and is now 
 in the frame." 
 
 
 " Romatue for yoti Tzco." ^ 
 
 John Walker had come up to London for a little change, and on his 
 return to Hastings, Walker wrote, February 28 : — 
 
 ". . . . I'm very glad you got down all right. It's awful here, the 
 cold seems too great and miserable for frost or snow. I've had to leave 
 off work every now and then, both yesterday and to-day. The sky 
 becomes not dark but dirty. It may be cold where you are, but it 
 cannot be so perfectly cheerless, . . . My love, my best love, to the 
 dear old 'un. Her presence will be a comfort whenever she comes, but 
 don't send her especially on my account. I am much more comfortable 
 than I was, and work better. , . . Can I send you anything, any food 
 for mind or body ^ " 
 
 ^ The figure on the right is a representation of John Walker. 
 
I02 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 March 2, to his mother : — 
 
 " I have been donig a very good day's work on the ' Bathers,' and do 
 think to have it and the other finished if I go at it very hard." 
 
 March 7 : — " Been snowing and very dreadful. I've written to 
 Agnew about the ' Bathers,' and have offered him the other picture. . . 
 There has been a wonderfully flattering critique on me in last Saturday 
 Review." 
 
 March 8 : — " I had a letter from Agnew this morning ; he will be 
 here on Sunday or Monday, so that's all right, I suppose. This 
 weather is indeed enough to finish one without anything else — one must 
 endure it that's all. . . . The 'Bathers' are going on all right, I am 
 thankful to say. I have worked with all my might sometimes. Did 
 not do much yesterday, for I felt depressed and seedy — better to-day. 
 I am going to dine with Poll, and then am going to see the Clique. . . . 
 Hope Jack will be himself directly the wind changes, if it ever means to. 
 Give him my love, and I wish I could pop round and have a game of 
 bills with him at dusk always." 
 
 March 9 : — "I am glad you are coming up, and only wish old Jack 
 could come with you, but suppose it must not be thought of. ... I 
 think the continuance of this miserable weather well nigh intolerable. 
 There has been nothing but dirty grey sky here for nearly a fortnight. 
 .... I have not been getting on quite so well with my work this 
 morning, but hope to do better this afternoon." 
 
 Shortly after this, Mrs. Walker returned to London, followed in a few 
 days by the invalid and his sister ; and the consequent break in the letters 
 deprives us of any further record of Walker's struggles with Bathers 
 before sending the picture to the Royal Academy. As will be seen, he 
 was afterwards very doubtful of the wisdom of having exhibited the pic- 
 ture this year. It was far from finished ; was returned to him at the 
 close of the Exhibition to be further worked on ; and was not in Mr. 
 Agnew's hands until May, 1868. Even then, the picture was not finally 
 completed, for Walker worked on it again about the end of the year 
 1869, some time after it had come into the possession of Mr. Graham. 
 In its finished state. Bathers has been considered by many to be W^alker's 
 masterpiece. However this may be, it was undoubtedly one of his most 
 important works ; and though I will not weary the reader with any 
 lengthened criticisms, a few extracts from press notices of the picture, 
 when shown at the exhibition of 1876, may be of interest: — 
 " Certainly one of the finest and best works that was ever lifted 
 from an English painter's easel." " One of the finest of Walker's 
 compositions, and one of the noblest pictures of the English school. . . . 
 It would indeed be hard to find an artist in any school who has more 
 truly combined a feeling for colour with delight in the beauty of form, or 
 
J 
 
 (nPn 
 
 
 
 ^D 
 ^ 
 
 ^ t 
 
 -1 
 
 J 
 
186; 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 103 
 
 one whose triumphs in either direction are more surely based upon simple 
 nature." " The composition from one end to the other is complete and 
 altogether excellent, even if measured by the highest standard of ex- 
 cellence we know — the sculptures of Phidias. ... I hardly know 
 how to put into any form of words the praise I feel towards this 
 picture." "Perhaps the most perfect and delightful example in the 
 collection is the Bathers^ a group of nude forms upon the banks of an 
 English river." " No painter in England has ever produced a picture 
 more worthy immortality." 
 
 At the sale of Mr. Graham's collection, in April, 1886, Bathers 
 realised the sum of 2,500 guineas. At the time of the sale, it was 
 believed to be a question whether this picture or Vagrants^ from the same 
 collection, would be secured for the National Gallery ; but the choice fell 
 upon the latter, at a cost of 1,770 guineas. Bathers is now (1896) in the 
 possession of W. Cuthbert Quilter, Esq., M.P., and has been etched by 
 Mr. Macbeth. 
 
 The drawing of 'Philip in Church had been sent to the Paris 
 Exhibition of 1867 > ^"^^ Walker went to Paris in April, accompanied 
 by his friend Mr. W. C. Phillips. On April 23, he wrote from there to 
 his eldest sister : — 
 
 " I am breakfasting by myself, as Willie and his old school-fellow have 
 gone to a place called Enghein, I think. . . . My thoughts often enough 
 fly quicker than the telegraph to all that I have left behind me, and my 
 
 work too. Somehow or other my poor * Bathers' make me unhappy 
 when I think of them. Kimprte^ I shall come back and do better 
 work ; and even since I have been here I have had one or two 
 
I04 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VIII 
 
 thoughts on a certain something that, D. V., I will work out while we 
 are at Cookham. I will tell you of a little adventure we had the night 
 afore last, which began while we were dining at a certain cafe, like a large 
 conservatory, and full of people. At a table near us were seated an old 
 lady and gentleman, and a young lady, who at once attracted my atten- 
 tion, there was something rather strange and English about her, and she 
 evidently looked upon me with some interest (Heaven knows I say it 
 without conceit, and Will's back was to the party). Now this went on 
 for some time, and the more I looked upon the girl the more I liked her, 
 and Will said he heard some English words uttered that could only have 
 come from her, as all others near were unmistakably French to the back- 
 
 " Coffee for Tiuo — s'il vous plaft." 
 
 bone. The old lady had a little beast of a white toy dog, which was 
 attracting the attention of every one, and at last was the medium through 
 which I addressed the old lady, when the young one bent forward, and in 
 a nice winning way talked to me in good English. It ended in our 
 taking our coffee at their table, and the talk going on to Shakespeare, 
 &c., by the time we left the cafe, the familiar face explained itself, for it 
 belonged to no other than Stella Colas, who some time ago created such 
 ■&. furore^ as Juliet. We sauntered down the Boulevards in their company, 
 and later in the evening left a bouquet with both our names at their 
 hotel, and next morning I left a card with ' Garrick Club ' on it. She 
 goes to-day to the South of France, and two months hence will visit 
 
i867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 105 
 
 London. She has been in Russia all the winter, and has been working 
 very hard, and with great success, in St. Petersburgh. She has been 
 ■ordered a good long rest by the doctor." 
 
 On the same date, to his mother : — 
 
 " I have been dreadfully backward in writing, but not so much as 
 others, for I have only received one letter of any kind, and that was 
 from your own dear self. I am impatient for news. . . . Went to the 
 Exhibition on Monday, and saw ' Philip,' which is prettily hung in a 
 nice light ; but on the whole the English school is very badly repre- 
 sented. Our time is simply taken up in gadding about, so there is very 
 little to be written about, but much to be said when I return, which 
 will be on Saturday, I think, I often wish you were all with me — 
 Jack would enjoy much of it, I know, though he is quite right in 
 not being here now ; for the fatigue and excitement of sightseeing 
 would soon knock him up, I feel sure." 
 
 Undated : — " We have been to the Exhibition to-day, and have seen 
 all the jolly pictures — most of them I have seen before. ... I think of 
 you all very often, and shall, I hope, return to the fight with fresh 
 strength." 
 
 The drawing here given — Doing Paris 
 origin, I believe, to this visit to Paris. 
 
 The Last Day — owes its 
 
 <«^>C^-v^ 
 
 botHC 
 
 PA<IS- Tut last OAr 
 
 After a little more than a week's stay in Paris, Walker returned to 
 London. On May 8, he wrote to his brother (who had gone to Cookham 
 earlier in the month) as follows : — 
 
io6 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VIII 
 
 " I did hope to have shovi^n up before this, but I cannot finish my 
 confounded Cornhill dravi^ing, so must content myself v^ith v^riting^ 
 and T have something to write about. I heard news yesterday (and 
 I am now going out to get it fully corroborated) which is news 
 indeed, although it almost seems too good to be true, and it is this. 
 The French have awarded me the English medal for water colour. This 
 is more important than it seems at first. The ceremony of awarding 
 them will be very brilliant in Paris, and will be done by the Emperor. 
 Calderon, who carries ofF the other (for oils), and who was one of 
 them to tell me the news at the Academy yesterday, says he certainly 
 will go over to be invested : he was in tremendous spirits. Marks, 
 who was with Leslie and Poynter, was the first to tell me, but they 
 would not believe that I had not already heard. I thought they were 
 trying to fetch me at first, till old Marks said, ' Then I am devilish 
 glad to have been the first to tell you.' Frith afterwards congra- 
 tulated me, so I suppose it's all right. I must tell you that it is 
 considered a very great honour, and that a small sum of money goes with 
 the medal, which is of gold, and worth about ;;^30. It will be an awful 
 sell if it isn't true, and there seems to be no official notification of it as 
 yet. However, Calderon was repeating a conversation of one of the 
 Lord Commissioners, who said that he ' didn't even know who Walker 
 was,' or something of the kind ; and now, my boy, you know about as 
 much as I do. If it turns out true, the old Missus shall go to Paris to 
 see her boy's triumph. . . . The ' Bathers ' looks capital, and people 
 were congratulating me — it looks quite a small picture at the Academy 
 though, among all the rest. ... I must rush off now to get at the truth 
 of this medal news, for it's driving me mad." 
 
 As a matter of fact. Walker had been awarded a medal for his 
 drawing of Philips but of the second class ; and as only first class 
 medallists received their medals at the hands of the Emperor, the scene 
 depicted above did not take place. 
 
1867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 107 
 
 During May, Walker was engaged on the frontispiece to 'The Story of 
 Elizabeth^ already referred to, and on an illustration to Beauty and the 
 Beast — one of the series of Miss Thackeray's stories, founded on fairy 
 tales, which appeared in the Cornhill. It must almost have been about 
 this time that he began the beautiful water colour drawing of The First 
 Swallow^ (now in the possession of Professor Herkomer, R.A.) which 
 
 was shown at the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, 
 the next year. Walker was at Cookham a good deal during this month, 
 and probably it was there he painted the hawthorn-tree that figures in the 
 drawing. Owing, however, to the absence of letters, in consequence of 
 the family being together, there is no record of the progress of the 
 work. 
 
io8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 Another drawing belonging to this time, was the Boys and Lamb^ 
 painted from three of my boys, and a pet lamb which had lately been 
 added to the animal population of the Beddington cottage. Though 
 •offered to others, the drawing was sold to the agent of a gentleman in 
 America, and has never been exhibited in this country. It is to this 
 •drawing Walker refers, under the usual title of " the little water colour," 
 in the following letters to his mother. 
 
 June 4 : — " I have decided upon going with my ' Wanderers ' to 
 Beddington, and there finishing it, as the gipsy boy has shown up. I 
 am off now. The little water colour is finished — it is too good for 
 the American, so I telegraphed to Morson (who has been waiting for 
 a very long time), and he is coming to see it between 4 and 5 to- 
 morrow. ... It will be a very good thing for me to finish the 
 * Wanderers.' I saw directly what it wanted. Two of the figures must 
 come out — the boy and girl — they spoil the standing figure, which is, by 
 itself, quite satisfactory. I am very anxious to get it done, and can, I 
 think, do it quickly, and feel sure it will be a success." 
 
 June 8 : — ". . . I have sold (or as good as sold) the little water 
 colour to Morson — he was much pleased with it. I asked ;^70, and he 
 asked if he might come to-day to see it again, as one corner was a little 
 unfinished, but I have had a telegram to say he cannot get to me and 
 will write ; so I suppose I must wait for a day or two, which is provok- 
 ing as I wished to conclude the matter to-day, and cannot now very well 
 sell it to any one else. I am just going to get it photographed. I do 
 not know what to think about being with you to-morrow, as it depends 
 upon what I hear to-day about the gipsy people. I have not seen any 
 of them yet." 
 
 June 12 : — " I write to let you know that all's well, and that I shall 
 not leave my picture for anything else until I finish it. I wrote to 
 Quilter, of Norwood, as to the little drawing, and have not yet received 
 an answer. If he does not come up to the scratch, I must let it go to 
 the American (whose letter I have found in one of my coat pockets, after 
 rummaging, as you know, all through my entire wardrobe), for I cannot 
 
 bother any more The picture looks the better for the alteration 
 
 already, and I hope to go ahead this week. The vile gipsies had ' struck 
 camp ' by the time I got there yesterday, so now I give them up, and go 
 at my own models here. The fools ! to let money slip through their 
 fingers." 
 
 June 19 : — "Just a line to say that the agent (to whom I wrote 
 about the little water colour for the American), writes that he is quite 
 prepared to hand over ,^^50, and wishes to know when he may call. I 
 have written to say to-morrow, so that's a comfort. I am all jolly, and 
 am going in for a bit of work now. Love to my old dear ; I shall 
 probably be back on Friday evening." 
 
1867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 109. 
 
 June 20 : — " The American's agent came this morning, paid me in 
 notes, and took away the water colour ; so that's all right. As for 
 the big^picture, it's going on very well." 
 
 June 24: — "I feared you would be troubled by my gloomy 
 looks, although, believe me, they meant little enough. You know one 
 sometimes feels cast down without the least cause ; at any rate I do. I 
 did not like going away, it always makes me feel uncomfortable, although 
 
 I wanted to get to town so very much Come to me if you like,. 
 
 and feel that you can leave Jack for a day or two. Of course you will 
 conduce to my happiness, for you know so well where all my discomforts 
 lie, and have mind enough to look generously on my faults." 
 
 After sending photographs of the Boys and Lamb to his sister at 
 Beddington, Walker wrote to her on July 2 : — 
 
 " I did not send a line with the photos, as I thought it unnecessary, 
 and was in a great hurry. I do not think them at all good, but if you 
 
 Boys and Lamb. 
 
 have them handy when next time I come, I will touch them up as much 
 as I can, and sign them. . . . Tell John I have a Paris medal after all, 
 but of what kind I do not know, and have a suspicion that I have 
 been unfairly treated by the S. Kensington authorities, in not receiving 
 official notice from them. I do not know if I have not missed being 
 
no LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 presented with it by the Emperor, but shall soon know. Adieu, dear, I 
 have finished my 4 o'clock tea, and must do some more work. Calderon 
 is indeed lucky ; he has gone to Paris for his medal." 
 
 Notwithstanding all the care that had been lavished on him, John 
 Walker gradually grew worse, and the anxiety about him deepened as 
 the year wore on. Walker, ever thinking of what could be done for 
 him, was anxious that he should winter in Algiers ; but when the time 
 came, the idea had to be abandoned. On July 4, Walker wrote to his 
 mother : — 
 
 "... Shall I send you some money .^ That is all I can think of, 
 unless it be some tit bit for Jack to eat. We must stick to the 
 Algerine scheme — the more I think of it the better I like it. The 
 change will of course be such as you have no conception of. We must 
 
 not mind what says, unless it be an unconditional ' no ' ; and even 
 
 then, other advice ought to be taken. I am quite satisfied with my 
 picture," {Vagrants) " it's going on capitally. . . . Love to old Jack ; am 
 sincerely sorry he is not the thing. This soft warm wind will do him no 
 harm. Tell him to let me know at once if I can get him anything — if 
 there is any eatable he has a notion of." 
 
 July 16 : — ". ... I have just been to Dr. ■. The interview was 
 
 all that I expected it would be as to Algiers, and should therefore be 
 an additional incentive on all our parts to care and industry. He 
 thinks, with me, that after the last 3 or 4 years of work, the change 
 to me will be of the greatest benefit. He thinks that the project may 
 with more wisdom be entertained now, than before, especially as we 
 shall all be together. However, there is plenty of time, and this 
 prospect will be an additional reason for care on Jack's part." 
 
 July 23 : — "I have had a very good day's work, and the picture is 
 much better. I am feeling very well, and pretty jolly. ... I am feel- 
 ing very confident about the picture, and am now going in for half an 
 hour's work from the cart." 
 
 July 24 : — " You will be relieved to hear that Agnew was very 
 much pleased with the picture, and that he has bought it, not as I 
 hoped for £600^ but for £SS'^- This ;^50 I regard as the cost of 
 certain recent events, and I will endeavour to explain to you what 
 I mean. I have come to the conclusion that two very great — well 
 perhaps not mistakes, because I could not avoid matters at the time, very 
 well — but two pictures have had at my hands rather bad generalship 
 since last year. I have come to the conclusion that the ' Bathers ' 
 would have done me much more good if I could have managed to 
 keep it, and (occasionally working on it) have sent it to the R. A. 
 next year ; and I have come to the conclusion that I ought to have kept 
 the blind man for the Academy, instead of letting Gambart have it for 
 his winter exhibition. You know that after all, from bad position, &c.. 
 
^ 
 
 
 v^ 
 
 fi. 
 
 ^ 
 
1867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 III 
 
 I only regard the * Bathers ' as a partial success ; when it might, under 
 happier circumstances, have been a very great and complete one. It is 
 not as yet ofF Agnew's hands ; and he says that Gambart offered to let 
 
 him have the blind man for less than I received for it He says 
 
 that in his opinion, I shall find I cannot finish this picture to its 
 fullest, in the few days I propose, and that if I will go, as soon as 
 possible, for my holiday, and busy myself with some water colour while 
 there, he will take it of me (or more than one if I manage to do 'em) 
 
 before I leave, and will make a point of meeting me there So 
 
 now I can do no better than be off, and quietly finish it when I return, 
 
 for I feel at present pretty well fagged I left off for dinner, and 
 
 now, dear, I will take it to the Gt. Western Ry., so that you may get it 
 to-night. Tell me what you think, and whether I have done well. I 
 do not feel ill, but must confess to feeling a great wish to get away. 
 You have had a nasty fagging time too, lately, but be comforted, dear, 
 there will be a good time for us yet I hope," 
 
 On the same day. Walker had written to his sister at Beddington : — 
 
 " Will you let me have the little water colour that I began before I 
 went to Paris — you know, the view of * Merridge's Farm.' I am going 
 to Scotland, and may manage to finish it there. I have not been to you, 
 dear, for an age, nor have I been to Cookham much, for I have been hard 
 at work here on the oil picture, which I have at last made into an impor- 
 tant affair. I have had to take the group of the boy and girl &c. out — 
 I found when I came from Paris, as I told you, that it was all wrong ; 
 and I have, as it were, made another picture of it. I am this day 
 expecting Agnew to come and see it — have been in a state of suspense 
 ever since \ past 10, when he was to have been here. I shall be glad to 
 get away, for I sometimes feel almost pumped dry." 
 
112 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 " Merridge's Farm " was the Croydon irrigation farm, then kept by 
 a Mr. Marriage ; and the buildings could be seen, some distance away, 
 from the front windows of the Beddington cottage. The view was made 
 use of in the water colour of The Violet Field — a woman and boy 
 gathering violets — which was exhibited this year at the Winter Exhibition 
 of the Old Water Colour Society. The drawing was not finished in 
 Scotland, but at Beddington, after Walker's return. 
 
 July 29, also to his sister Sarah :— " In haste I just write to thank you 
 for sending the drawing so kindly. ... I shall ^ see you very soon after 
 my return, as I ought to spend an afternoon more over the background of 
 the ' Vagrants,' which I thought to have finished before starting. I 
 must work too, while I am away, but these will be water colours. -I start 
 by 10 train to-morrow." 
 
 Walker's second visit to Scotland was again to the house of his 
 friend Mr. Ansdell. He reached Corrichoillie on the evening of 
 July 31, and next day wrote to his mother : — 
 
 " Here I am all right, and you will know that I am so, on Saturday 
 
 morning I think I have already arranged, or rather selected, a. 
 
 spot for a good water colour, and rather near this. All seems here just 
 the same, but I don't think my stay will be so very long. I shall do my 
 best to keep well, and prepare for all that is to come. Give me all 
 news, either trifling or otherwise." 
 
 August 5 : — " Your most welcome letter came last night. I am glad 
 to hear the * Bathers ' came all right, and I hope to polish all off directly I 
 get back I wish I could pop upon you whenever I wish. How- 
 ever, we shall soon be as much together as you could ever wish for." 
 The same date to his brother : — " This is just to tell you that I drew 
 first blood this morning in the shape of a 6\ lbs. fish — no very great 
 weight, but very pretty, and the first salmon I have seen killed this year, 
 for I have never been with Ansdell during his little successes. It was in 
 the second pool I fished. In the first I had a good rise, but he never 
 touched ; and in the second (which is about the most beautifully 
 picturesque on the river, and where Ansdell took the '^^G pounder), 
 I had taken three or four casts in the rough water, when there came a 
 very subtle kind of jerk under the surface, and I struck, and at once my 
 rod went 
 
 
 
 He only made one rush of any consequence, and — the rod being a 
 new one — the rings being a little stiff, did all the rest. The head 
 keeper, who was with me, neatly gaffed him, and then out came the 
 flask. Half a mile or so further on, we came to a deep but clear pool ; 
 and looking from the rocky height on to the river, we could see three or 
 
1867 FREDERICK WALKER 113 
 
 four wagging their tails in one spot. The sight was too much for the 
 keeper — though the throw was a very difficult one, across a lot of stones 
 and sharp edges just above the water — so he carefully stole down among 
 the rocks, and as the sun kept going in and out, he changed three flies 
 in as many throws, but on the fourth or fifth he had a rise — I saw him 
 come up, and there he was. I clambered down after him, took the rod, 
 and killed him in a deep pool just above. He was smaller than the 
 other, only 5^1bs., but both pretty fish, and fresh from the sea, by their 
 deep indigo backs. After that we had no other rise, though they were 
 jumping everywhere, and the keeper said we should scarcely have time 
 to save our jackets from getting wet through, and sure enough as we 
 returned, Ben Nevis became enveloped in lead-coloured cloud, and now 
 it is coming down like fun, greatly to my joy, for the river is nowhere. 
 We go out again at 5 o'clock, and if I do not get a bigger fish, I send 
 both these to you at Cookham on Mrs. A.'s suggestion." 
 
 August 1 1 , also to his brother : — 
 
 "I wish I had some good news of the fishing to give you, but 1 
 seem to have been just on the wrong beat always. What do you 
 think } Yesterday, Ansdell and his friend went to the Mucomer 
 pool, and took five, in the morning — they were rising right and 
 
 left, and the largest weighed over lylbs There is a whole 
 
 lot of poultry about the place, and among them a lot of youth- 
 ful cocks, who make the place absurd by their attempts at crowing. 
 I saw one, a very young one, that kept lifting his head and opening his 
 mouth at intervals, perfectly satisfied, though no sound came forth. One 
 or two of the tribe submit to having their necks wrung every day, 
 because we are obliged to feed upon our resources— no butcher or butter- 
 man coming round with a swell cart — our very mutton is browsing among 
 the heather, near the house. Some very young broad beans have made 
 their appearance at dinner lately, and some currants are reported to be 
 
 ripe, though the peas will not ripen this year I often think of the 
 
 peaceful meadows and gigantic shady trees about Cookham (even though 
 I have been away so short a time) and compare the scene with this. 
 No language of mine can draw the difference. Both sometimes, espe- 
 cially in the evening, have the same peaceful effect, though this is usually 
 of an evening most melancholy — at least it suggests it to me, especially on 
 the finest evenings. Several times, all the hills have been shut out by 
 low clouds, and sometimes one sees a beautiful luminous cloud quite low 
 down, almost on a level with one it seems, and the whole mountain 
 stretching up above it. Thank you, my boy, I do not want anything. I 
 sent to Farlow for some casting lines and a book, and I have a collection 
 of flies of my own ; indeed am well set up for life as regards salmon 
 tackle. I sent also to Eatwell for some brushes, &c., which came by 
 post. I do hope the fish I sent you arrived safely ; I took a tracing of 
 the one I hooked. May the day come when you and I can act as fisher- 
 
114 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 man and gillie to each other in turns, on this or some other water. We 
 must do our best — you to get well, and I to get the wherewithal." 
 
 August 15, to his mother : — 
 
 " 1 sit down to answer yours, as first among the batch that 
 came last night ; and Heaven knows how welcome they were, for 
 there has been a scarcity of them lately, and in my vexation T 
 declared to myself that I wouldn't write till I was written to. . . . . 
 You'll be glad to know I've begun work — a small water colour 
 about the size of that ' moss bank ' I did at Torquay. It is a pool, and 
 there will be a young girl on the bank. There is a golden-haired lass 
 that I noticed last year, who lives at one of the huts or ' bothies ' near 
 this, who will do splendidly, if she will only sit ; and this evening, or to- 
 morrow, I go down to inquire. ... I expect to do two water colours 
 while here ; the second, bigger than the one I am now about, and more 
 important. As soon as this one is forward, I write to Agnew to know 
 when he arrives here." 
 
 The smaller water colour was the Stream in Inverness-shire — a girl 
 bringing linen to wash — exhibited at the Summer Exhibition of the Old 
 Water Colour Society in 1868. The larger one, the subject of which 
 Walker does not mention, was not carried out. 
 
 August 1 8 : — " I fear this will be a dull day for you, whether you 
 are at Cookham or the Burgh ; with all the brood dispersed. Your letter, 
 which came last night, made me feel a little depressed, especially that 
 referring to poor Jack. I cling to the idea of his going to Algiers, for 
 his sake, and for mine, and for yours. I do not see what else is to be 
 done, and only trust that the heat has made him seem less well. ... I 
 am getting on pretty well with one of the water colours, and have written 
 for a fresh panel for the other, as none I have here are of the right shape. 
 One of the Agnews will be coming at the end of next week, but I don't 
 know if it is W. Agnew or no. . . . God bless you, my dear mother. I 
 often feel a very great desire to see your dear old face again, and think of 
 you in the most strange moments — while fishing, &c., — and believe me that 
 my present absence, will, I think, knit me more closely to you." 
 
 August 24 : — " .... The Agnews — W. and his brother — were, 
 with their wives, to have been here to-day, but their visit is postponed 
 on account of one of the latter being ill. I am not sorry, for although 
 my work is going on pretty well, it is backward, and will be even better 
 if I send it to them. The girl I mentioned is expected every minute, 
 and the eyes and opera glasses of the establishment are all directed 
 across the valley, from the little lawn in front." 
 
 August 25, to his eldest sister : — 
 
 " . . . . The letter of Smith's enclosed a little story of Annie 
 
1867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 1^5 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, viii 
 
 Thackeray's — ' Little Red Riding Hood ' — with a request that I would 
 do a drawing and initial. I think I shall do it. . . . There is a 
 bull belonging to a gentleman farmer on the next estate, next this 
 on the road towards Spean Bridge, that every one has to pass, and 
 which has always shown more or less signs of savagery, and yester- 
 day he made a rush down the slope on to the road, at the head 
 keeper's two boys (one of them I painted, you know), and they only just 
 saved themselves by getting up a tree, and had to remain there, with Mr. 
 Bull underneath, until the shepherd and his dogs came — nice, isn't it ^ 
 I'm going to write to Mr. Wallace, the owner, because next week I shall 
 want to go that way to a bank where I shall be working, and don't choose 
 to risk being ripped up. . . . Two Scotch lasses came here yesterday, for 
 me to look at. One, who was very splendid last year, with bare feet, 
 and a shock-head of light and beautiful hair, I thought would do for my 
 water colour, and Rosalie rode over and negotiated with her people ; but 
 Heaven help us ! when they came, you never saw such swells — such 
 crinolines, such cotton gloves, such hats and feathers — looking like servant 
 gals going out on the spree. Of course, I explained through one of the 
 servants here (for they could only speak Gaelic), that I would most 
 likely go over to them and draw from them in their week day dress ; but 
 I shall not, for one of the wenches over here will even do better." 
 
 August 28, to his mother : — 
 
 "... You will be glad to hear, dear, that the work I have 
 been doing is quite satisfactory, and in comparatively a forward 
 state ; and I am only waiting to hear from the Agnews, and finish up 
 here, before you see me again, which will be as early as possible 
 next week. I thought of you much, as being alone, my dear, and 
 knew that you must be lonely either at Bayswater or Cookham, and 
 sincerely hope that it will be a long time before you are again placed 
 in such a position — it shall not be if I can help it. . . I know that 
 work is awaiting me, and I know that I shall get into harness again, 
 and perhaps with none the less advantage for being ' out to grass ' for 
 so long. If my health be spared, I have the best years yet before me, 
 and will show you that all promise that I may have given, shall be 
 fulfilled. God bless you for all your loving care and anxiety for us. 
 Look forward to a possibly much happier future. You will have time 
 to answer this — let me know all news, especially as to our Jack. I had 
 a long letter from him last night ; I could wish that the Worthing 
 trip had been more improving to him. Tell me all — all that you think ; 
 and when we meet next week, we will have a quiet talk over things." 
 
 September i : — " ... I mentioned the Cornhill drawing. I have 
 not done it yet, and blame myself for not having done more work, 
 while here, than the one drawing, but perhaps I should not have been so 
 well as I am now, if I'd stuck too hard at it ; and when fishing and 
 shooting are going on all round one, the temptation to loaf is very strong. 
 
1867 FREDERICK WALKER 117 
 
 I went out on Friday, with Eden Ansdell, and Lord Abinger's keeper, 
 grouse shooting on the moor behind this house, and we shot some game 
 of a kind we little expected. You know I mentioned a bull belonging 
 to a gentleman on the next estate, and that he was proving very savage, 
 and that the owner would not believe it. Well, we were quietly crossing 
 the moor, and going towards a stream — the Cour, where we fish for 
 trout — and when within half a mile of the Cour, I just espied 
 Mr, Bull running down the opposite bank. I felt very uneasy, and 
 told my fears to the others, who pooh-poohed the idea. Of course Mr. 
 Bull had disappeared, but I could hear him bellowing dreadfully, and 
 getting louder every minute ; the beggar was actually crossing the stream, 
 and a few minutes after, his ugly head appeared above the bank on this 
 side, and he came at us, and we knew we were in for it. The row he 
 made was hideous, and when 15 or 20 yards from us, put down his 
 head to charge ; and then the keeper, who had quietly put into his gun 
 a double charge of shot, levelled and fired, hitting him well. He 
 staggered, and then to my relief, sullenly passed us, and joined a herd 
 of cattle on the side of the mountain. Goodness only knows what the 
 result had been if the keeper had missed, or we had been without guns 
 at all. I wrote an indignant letter to the owner of the animal, and had 
 a stupid incredulous reply ; and it is in this way that horrible things 
 happen. I shall send a line either to Cookham or Bayswater before 
 starting. If you are at Cookham, do not put yourself, or selves, out 
 of the way, or think of tiring yourself by going to Bayswater. I can 
 manage well enough, and can easily get to you next day." 
 
 After his return to London, Walker was engaged in finishing the 
 Stream in Inv erne ss- shir e^ and in preparing the wood drawing for Little 
 Red Riding Hood^ which appeared in the Cornhill for October. He was 
 also again at work on Vagrants. Of the latter he says in the letter 
 to his mother dated September 16, and addressed to Henley, to which 
 place Mrs. Walker and her invalid son had gone for a few days : — 
 
 " I cannot help feeling some pride in my ' Vagrants ' as I look at 
 them, and know the picture will be considered successful. I work on 
 the smallest child to-morrow, which is the most unfinished of the 
 figures." 
 
 A little later. Walker took a short trip with his friend Mr. Phillips, 
 and writes from Salisbury, September 24 : — 
 
 "... We have been this morning to the most beautiful place I 
 think I ever was in, I mean for a private place — Sidney Herbert's 
 (Lord Herbert of Lea that is), and in time to come I will describe 
 it to you. We went into the dear old Cathedral again tnis morning, 
 and sat about, listening to the solemn music, and glorious boys' voices. 
 There are plenty of old tombs, with Knights and Bishops on them, and 
 I have found it resting to mind and body, to leisurelv sit and think. 
 
ii8 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. VIII 
 
 One finds one's self making good resolves too, though Heaven knows 
 whether they are destined to be kept." 
 
 On September 27, he wrote to his brother : — 
 
 "... I enclose one of the envelopes from that theatre-ridden, or I 
 should say stage-struck Will. He came a week ago to me, asking if I 
 could tell Miss Oliver the best way of getting an advertising envelope 
 done, and I thought the best way would be to sketch one myself, 
 which I did on wood, and here it is — Black-eyed Sue, and the gallant 
 Crosstree." 
 
 For the remainder of the year, Walker was mostly with his mother 
 and brother, either at Cookham or Bayswater. Part of October they 
 spent in town, and early in November, the weather being mild, John 
 Walker went to Cookham for the last time, returning about the middle 
 of the month. His youngest sister, then living at Cookham, remembers 
 the look on his face as he turned away from the river he was never 
 to see again. 
 
 . In November, Walker was at work on the illustrations to Miss 
 Thackeray's story of Jack the Giant Killer ; the first drawings — The 
 Fates^ and an initial letter of a Weeping Cupid — appearing in the Cornhill 
 for December ; and the second — Waiting for Papa^ and an initial — in 
 January, 1868. A water colour of The Fates ^ of which Mr. George 
 Smith became the possessor, was also executed in November. Walker 
 
i867 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 119 
 
 subsequently reproduced in water colour both Waiting for PapUy with 
 the title of The Chaplain s Daughter^ and the Weeping Cupid. In 
 
 The Fates. 
 
 November too, he completed The Violet Field, to which drawing the 
 following extract refers. 
 
 November 20, to his sister at Beddington : — 
 
 " Look out for me on Friday, and if you have time to see 
 about a screen opposite the cabbages, I shall be thankful. I am 
 just off (8 a.m.) to the Water Colour Gallery, to the sweet task of 
 hanging the things — went early yesterday, and didn't leave until past 
 eight last night. . . Oh, and I wish, dear, you could send to Steadman's 
 field, and ask if Mr. Steadman can come and speak to you, then tell him 
 about the violets — tell him I am likely to want lots, some really fine 
 bouquets if he will supply me at a rate that will pay him. And ask 
 if he can lend one of those cans that the boys strap round them when 
 they gather the violets. Tell him I am painting some violet pickers, 
 and that I would like to sit in his field, if I could be sure of not being 
 interrupted." 
 
 November 25, also to Beddington : — 
 
 "... I am afraid you'll think me a sad worry, but could you get 
 Steadman to send me a bouquet of violets about the size of a dinner 
 plate. I dare say you will not be much puzzled as to where it is to 
 
I20 LIFE AND LErTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. viii 
 
 go afterwards, . . This is a little matter in which you can really help 
 me, so I don't hesitate, dear." 
 
 Walker was never married, but in the above passage the breath ot 
 violets comes across the years, telling us he knew of love. 
 
 A little incident occurred about this time in connection with the 
 Vagrants y which may be worth mentioning. One Sunday afternoon. 
 Walker was at work at Beddington, on the background of the picture, 
 when I went to take him some refreshment. As I stood near him 
 afterwards, a robin came and perched on a bush a little way off. I called 
 his attention to it. "By Jove," he said, "I'll put him in" ; and in a 
 few touches there was the robin as he now appears, towards the top left 
 hand corner of the picture. 
 
 The last letter of this year was also addressed to his sister Sarah. 
 The child mentioned was his little niece, who stood for the " little 
 fashionable wretch," as Mr. Ruskin calls her, in the wood drawing of 
 Waiting for Pa-pa. After speaking of the important matter of the 
 violets. Walker writes : — 
 
 " I was at Cookham on Friday, sketching Poll's kid, and lovely the 
 river looked, in spite of the cold : a beautiful golden light shone on the 
 banks. I went out with old Wilder to try for a jack, but though one 
 got on, he got off again. I attended an important meeting at the 
 Water Colour Gallery last night, and, confound it, I'm on the next 
 hanging committee, and this is how they did it." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 1868 
 
 The year 1868 opened but sadly for the household at St. Petersburgh 
 Place. John Walker's health had been rapidly declining for some time 
 past, and all now felt that the end was not far off. He died at Bayswater 
 on January 27th, at the age of twenty-two. As has been said, his sister 
 Mary was then staying at Cookham, and it was to the house where she 
 and her husband were living, that he was taken the day before the funeral 
 — the first of four who were to be laid in the old churchyard. He was 
 borne to the grave by riverside men and fishermen, to all of whom his 
 tall thin figure had been a familiar object on the river for three summers 
 past. The simple stone which still marks the grave was erected by 
 Walker as in keeping with the surroundings. 
 
 Soon after his brother's death. Walker went with his mother and 
 eldest sister to Brighton. From there he wrote to Mr. North, as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Your letter forwarded this morning finds us staying here after a 
 recent great sorrow. I have lost the dear brother whom we were 
 permitted for so long to nurse and help comfort — he died on the 27th 
 of last month. 
 
 " I went to town on Monday for the election, and did intend writing 
 you on the subject, and to express my concern that you were not 
 successful, as you truly deserved to be, in my opinion ; and I am 
 requested by Burton to convey to you his regrets. John Gilbert, too, 
 did his best in the matter, both for you and Pinwell ; and I fancy that 
 the reason you (so narrowly) missed going in was a certain opinion some 
 of the members expressed, that there was want of finish in parts of your 
 work — which opinion I am not at all sure I share. Let me beg you not 
 to let this in any way interfere with your trying hard next time. I feel 
 very sure that your perseverance will be rewarded. 
 
 " Yes, come and see me. I have done very little work for some time, 
 but I return to the mill during the middle of next week, and shall be 
 glad to see you at any time." 
 
122 . LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 February 4, from Brighton, to Mr. Phillips : — 
 
 " Here we are, and I think all the better for the change and bright 
 weather, though subject to times of gloom, heavy enough Heaven knows ; 
 but the bright sun and crisp sparkling sea help one vastly. I brought 
 down the little water colour with me, and will complete it and send it 
 you if you like. . . . The little picture ought to bring me the nimble 
 ninepence while I am here, so if you are ready for it, my dear fellow, it 
 will be a pleasure to once more resume work in this way. No chance 
 of seeing you, I suppose. They say the season is over here, but there 
 seem to be mobs of people — and all happy ! I took a long solitary 
 walk yesterday about Lewes, Glynde, and Berwick (if you know the 
 locality), and came home with a fine appetite, rather a wonder of late." 
 
 Scene from '• Meg's Diversion. 
 
 Soon after this, Walker paid a visit to Mr. Birket Foster at Witley, 
 where he had previously spent a short time, though no mention of his 
 having done so appears in the letters. On February 17, he wrote to 
 his mother : — 
 
 " I've just returned from a long drive, which we, B. F., Mrs. 
 F., and Miss Brown (F.'s niece), have had, to see Mr. Hook, R.A. 
 This is a paradise. If I had but some money ! I am half mad with 
 envy and other feelings. There is a beautiful little cottage within a 
 stone's throw of the house Hook has left,, with a studio and four or five 
 bedrooms, which I would, this day buy if I had , money enough (it is 
 j^ 1,200). The situation is perfectly romantic — such a sweep of glorious 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 123 
 
 country ! Alas, I could sell myself to be doing what I might do here. 
 The cottage has two acres of ground, with beautiful heather, &c., 
 stretching down from it, and altogether I do not think you have any 
 conception of the wondrous beauty of this place. As for the house 
 Hook has left, it is simply splendid ; but like the cottage — which he built 
 as a kind of retreat — it is to be sold, not let. I shall stay here as long as 
 I can, and work as much as I can. B. Foster says : ' My dear boy, why 
 don't you paint a picture, and buy it ^ ' — meaning the cottage ! He is 
 most kind, and begs me to stay here and work. Gambart is coming 
 to-morrow or Wednesday, and I think I have a subject already. I am 
 very glad I came, and trust that, with Heaven's help, I may now have 
 turned the corner. How you would revel in this place ! " 
 
 In expectation that his mother and sister might have returned from 
 Brighton, Walker ran up to town, and left a letter dated February 19, 
 from which I extract the following : — 
 
 " My dears, in case this finds you here to-morrow, know by it that 
 I came up hoping to find you both here, and jolly ; and lo, the place 
 is desolate, as you will find it I fear ; but no matter, only a few 
 minutes could I spend with you, in any case, for now it is 8, and the 
 last train leaves Waterloo at 9, and the Fosters' carriage has to then 
 meet me at Godalming. However, I cannot help feeling sorry not to 
 meet you once more in the old crib, but let this represent me. . . . 
 This morning was too lovely at the Fosters'. I am doing my own 
 wonderful bedroom window there, with the stained glass, and com- 
 fortable recess with cushioned seats — that Fan recollects no doubt — and 
 a figure. The ' nigger ' is on my shoulder welcoming me, and I have 
 only just time to get back." 
 
 February 23 : — " I suppose you have at last returned, and have found 
 
 my letter and explanation No news ; I am well and happy, and 
 
 getting well on with my work. It will be finished next week, as early as 
 possible, and another begun, so I can't say anything about coming 
 home, but will come up to see your old face and show you mine if you 
 like — only say when, and I'll be with you." 
 
 February 24 : — " . . . B. Foster wants me to finish the little subject 
 of the workhouse children for him, and at some later time to do an 
 important work for him, for he believes in your boy's work, and has 
 
 much comforted me in the unconscious signs of respect he shows 
 
 My room here is not the one I occupied before ; it is the chief room for 
 visitors, and from it I see the Brighton downs, and •■ Devil's Dyke,' 
 30 miles off, so you know the kind of prospect there is above the beau- 
 teous fir trees that enclose the grounds. But I hope you will see it, for 
 I do think you ought to fetch me home from so lovely a place. I have 
 
 worked pretty hard to-day, and successfully Birket Foster and I 
 
 went for a beautiful walk yesterday morning, finishing up by visiting a 
 little church. In the churchyard they laid poor Lindsay Watson, who 
 
124 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 first came with the news of my election into the Water Colour Society, 
 and which I remembered as I stood there yesterday." 
 
 February 26 : — "Just a line to say I received both yours this morn- 
 ing, with Smith's which I enclose, and intend answering to-day. I am 
 glad, dear, that you are pretty comfortable, both of you, and this 
 weather will help Fan surely. To-day here is a fine spring one, the 
 downs in the far horizon tinted with gold by the setting sun at this 
 moment. F. and one of the little girls are on the charming lawn play- 
 ing at bowls, and the birds are going it like mad. My work is nearly 
 finished." 
 
 The letter from Mr. Smith, above mentioned, related to a proposal 
 that Walker should illustrate Thackeray's Esmond. The idea, however, 
 was never carried out, though Mr. Hooper tells me that Walker 
 completed one drawing. 
 
 On February 29, Walker wrote to his sister Mary : — 
 
 " I have just received your nice long letter, and the neckerchief, 
 which I have put on and mean to wear all the evening. This has been 
 an awful day, rain and wind no end — very different from the lovely 
 days ever since I've been here. We have just had dinner, and coffee 
 has been brought in ; and though I mean to touch upon the water 
 colour (which is all but finished) I look upon the evening, and indeed 
 all the evenings here, as leisure time, for I have worked very well 
 since coming here, resisting many a temptation to take a jolly walk. 
 I wish I could tell you how dainty this place is, from the delightful 
 little drawing-room we're now in, with its walls covered with water 
 colours — little gems by old Hunt, Millais, &c., &c. — to the bedroom 
 I occupy, and in which I paint, for the subject is the window, which 
 is in a large recess, with stained glass and diamond-shaped panes, and 
 I am doing a woman brushing her hair. It is just the house you 
 would revel in, my Poll. Part of the garden is a gentle slope, 
 with its shrubs and bushes covering the beautiful lawn, on which 
 the blackbirds promenade in the sun of a morning. There are two 
 smaller flat lawns, on which we play bowls or croquet ; and above, and 
 around down below, plantations of firs and pines, and so many ever- 
 greens, that one forgets that it is the leafless season ; and from my 
 bedroom, as I sit on the cushions in the recess, I can see across to the 
 Brighton downs, and ' Devil's Dyke,' 30 miles off. Foster is very jolly 
 and kind, with a great sense of humour in a quiet sort of way. He 
 makes me very comfortable, and I know he likes my being here, and he 
 admires my work much ; and, by the way, has asked me to finish the 
 workhouse kids and your kid for him, so you will have me down upon 
 
 you again You know, my dear, what a fearful time it has been 
 
 for me. I realise it most awfully sometimes while here, and my heart 
 aches — God knows how much — when I suddenly find myself thinking of 
 poor Jack, and how complete a companion he might always have been 
 
i868 FREDERICK WALKER 125 
 
 for me. On Thursday evening, I went up to town, as I dare say you 
 know, and took the Missus by surprise, and we had a little bit of dinner 
 together — we three — and then I came back by the last train, the carriage 
 waiting comfortably outside Godalming station for me, as the last train 
 does not go on to Witley. The Missus was cheered by my visit, I 
 know ; and we agreed to work like fun, and stick by each other this 
 
 year Thank you, my dear, for the tobacco-box. It's sure to be 
 
 good, and I'm afraid I have almost a child's pleasure in receiving a 
 
 gift I shall be sorry to leave this place. As you say, there are 
 
 lots of new ideas ; and if I could, I'd stay here until the summer. Old 
 Keene shares a cottage with another man named Bridger, close by this. 
 He comes down now and then, and there is a dog at the cottage with a 
 short tail that reminds one of old dottles himself .... Foster is 
 glaring at my picture, which I brought into the room at dusk." 
 
 The following undated letter was addressed to Mr. Phillips : — 
 
 " I am staying with Birket Foster ever since Sunday week, and 
 shall, I expect, remain a week longer, for I am at work, and am happier 
 here than I have been for a long time. . . . This place is the most lovely 
 and snug that I ever stayed at ; all the horrors of winter, and all discomfort 
 of every kind, seem done away with. I can see 30 miles from my bed- 
 room window, across the most beautiful part of Surrey. The house 
 (which B. F. built himself) is the most perfect ; the eye is continually 
 refreshed by good colour." 
 
 March 5, to his mother : — 
 
 " I shall in all probability be in town to-morrow evening, or Sunday 
 morning, and spend Sunday with you, though I think I had best return 
 here to finish up. Gambart came yesterday, and carried off the work 
 I have done, and I only wished that the other had been ready — so did 
 
 he Thank you, my dear, for the little wallflower, it is as good 
 
 as anything can be, and makes me feel that the same sun that gilds this 
 place so wonderfully, does not forget to look upon the place you are 
 in I like the idea of * Esmond ' very much." 
 
 Before leaving Witley, Walker visited Knole in connection with the 
 illustrations to Esmond. On March 12, he wrote to his mother from 
 the Royal Crown Hotel, Sevenoaks : — 
 
 " We've just come back from the visit to Knole, and I am doubled 
 up with wonder and delight — such tapestry and lovely old furniture. 
 We went into the room in which Millais painted the ' Eve of St. 
 Agnes,' a room that is furnished with old massy silver ; and remains — 
 cabinets, chairs, and everything, even the silver toilet service — just as 
 it was prepared for the reception of James I. Millais painted the 
 moonlight subject in it. The housekeeper says that if I write to Lady 
 De La Warr she is sure to give me every facility ; so now I am only 
 waiting for Smith's letter, which I suppose I shall have to-morrow 
 
126 LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, ix 
 
 morning, and sincerely hope it will be favourable. You would be 
 delighted with this place, and this hotel has a most glorious old garden, 
 with quaint alleys, &c., and high box hedges. We shall dine this 
 evening at Charing Cross or somewhere, for it is easier to get to 
 Witley from this by going to town ; so for once and away I shall be 
 
 in town without seeing my mother there I shall do my best in 
 
 every case now, and shall return to town much benefited by all this 
 change. Best love to my Fan. She'll have to help me with ' Esmond * 
 no end — every one will. Shall have to borrow lots of costume, and shall 
 have to work like blazes." 
 
 Soon after this. Walker left Witley. While there, in addition to 
 The Bedroom Window, he had painted Well-Sinkers — a lady and little 
 girl looking down a well in course of construction, and three labourers 
 standing near — a subject taken from work actually in progress in 
 Mr. Birket Foster's grounds, at the time. He also makes mention of 
 beginning other work at Witley, which, however, does not seem to have 
 been carried very far. 
 
 Early in April, Walker received a letter from Mr. North, inviting 
 him to spend a few days at Halsway Court, Crowcombe, Somersetshire,, 
 where Mr. North was staying for the purposes of his work. Later in 
 the year, the invitation was accepted ; and so began those visits to 
 Somersetshire in which Walker -and Mr. North were so much together. 
 On April 19, Walker wrote in reply : — 
 
 " I have been so pressed for time this last week as to have been 
 scarcely lit for letter writing — from morning till night at the Gallery, 
 hanging our water colours, till I have hated the very thought of pictures ! 
 I fear I shall not be able to join you for some time. So soon as I can 
 get away, I am inclined, and persuaded by my folks here, to go right 
 away, perhaps up the Mediterranean to Venice ; for I am feeling over- 
 done, and longing for sea air and entirely fresh scenes. If I go, I hope 
 to return to a careful picture for next Academy, before this summer is- 
 well on. I shall be glad to know how you are going on with yours. . . . 
 I am trying to finish up the things for our Gallery, so excuse haste. 
 
 " P.S. — Have given over ' Esmond,' for it is useless and a shame to- 
 attempt such a thing against time." 
 
 " The things for our Gallery " consisted of the Stream in Inverness- 
 shire^ 'The First Swallow^ The Bedroom Window^ Well-Sinkers^ The 
 Fates^ and The Chaplain's Daughter^ and formed a goodly show. Indeed,, 
 so far as exhibited work was concerned, this was Walker's most prolific 
 year. He sent three more drawings to the Winter Exhibition of the 
 Old Water Colour Society, and moreover had the Vagrants on the Royal 
 Academy's walls at this year's Exhibition. All the above-mentioned 
 drawings, and also the Vagrants^ were well received ; but the latter does 
 not seem to have roused any particular enthusiasm on this its first 
 appearance. It may be noticed here, that in the Academy catalogue, the 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 127 
 
128 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 title was erroneously given as In the Glen^ Rathfarnham Park. Mr. 
 Waltner's etching of the picture is well known, as are also those of 
 The First Swallow and The Chaplain s Daughter^ by Mr. E. Gaujean. 
 
 His friends' persuasion, backed by his own inclination, induced 
 Walker to visit Venice this year. It was at Witley that the subject had 
 £rst been broached. Mr. W. Q. Orchardson, R.A., of whom Walker 
 had seen a good deal while staying at Witley, was thinking of going to 
 Venice with Mr. Birket Foster, in the late spring, and Walker had been 
 urged to accompany them. For the sake of the voyage, however, he 
 wished to go by sea, and it was finally arranged that he should do so, 
 and meet the others in Venice. He accordingly took passage in the 
 s.s. Kedary trading between Liverpool and Alexandria, and calling at 
 Genoa and some intermediate ports on the way out. On Saturday, 
 May 2, Walker went to Liverpool, accompanied by his mother. The 
 next day he wrote to his sister Fanny, from the Waterloo Hotel : — 
 
 " . . . . There is something always rather depressing in first coming 
 to a strange place of this kind ; evidences of commonplace squalor and 
 worrying business, and yet all new to the eye. I left the Missus at the 
 station, as you know, and proceeded at once in a cab to Burns and 
 Mclver's office — a place something like a bank — and in my mind I 
 resented the tone of the man who was called forward to speak with me. 
 He had a broad Lancashire accent, and spoke of his doing everything in 
 the matter — the speaking to Captain Muir, &c. — and rather giving me 
 to understand that he had power to make me comfortable. This 
 depressed me. I have since come to the conclusion that he was a con- 
 ceited ape, and I don't suppose has influence with anybody. We had a 
 a sight of the vessel, as you know, and this morning I went again — 
 took a cab this time, there being no 'busses — and found that the ' Kedar ' 
 had been moved altogether from her position yesterday, which gave me 
 a walk of nearly a mile. However, I eventually found her, and did 
 indeed go on board — everything sadly in confusion, but giving promise 
 of comfort, and being all that I could expect. She is, to my unpractised 
 eye, a large vessel, though not nearly the size of some belonging to the 
 same people. The noble captain was of course invisible, and she seemed 
 quite in charge of the dock people, who commence putting her cargo 
 into her to-night, and I think there's no doubt that she goes first thing 
 on Wednesday morning ; so whether it will be advisable for the Missus 
 to stay over Tuesday night, I don't know. If I go aboard then, why I 
 think she'd better slope. I think she will only be depressed by the 
 *last look ' at me from terra fir ma T 
 
 May 5, to his mother, who had returned to London : — 
 
 " I've just returned from Speke Hall and all its grandeur, to find 
 your dear old telegram, like a whisper from your very mouth — 20 past 10 
 — so if you sent it from Euston, they've done it pretty well this time. 
 The night is fair and bright, and I am happy ; for all has been done 
 
i868 
 
 FREDERICK IVALKER 
 
 129 
 
 The First Swallow, 
 
 By permission c/ Messrs. Thos. Agnew^and Sons, owners of the coJ>yright.) 
 
 K 
 
I30 LIFE AND LErrERS OF chap, ix 
 
 that can well be, and I can quietly say that I am simply of the same 
 opinion as from the first, that for my future this is the one thing that 
 will do me most good, and that my mind most eagerly turns to. When 
 I left you, I walked back here, as there was a moment to spare, looked 
 about and found there was nothing more to do, and went forth, found 
 Miller and Leyland, and with the latter went partly by rail, and partly 
 in his phaeton, to the wonderful old Hall, where I have spent a very 
 comfortable quiet time — the vehicle and servant waiting to carry me 
 back to the omnibus that stops at this door ; so now you have the 
 whole event. Of course the place was superb. . . . Well, a few hours 
 will see me leaving it all for the present. I shall often think of our 
 little scrambling stay here, and of your constant wish to be ' doing 
 something ' for me, though Heaven knows what more you could have 
 done, and Heaven will reward you for all. . . . On getting up I shall add 
 a few lines to this ; and, if possible, will scrawl a line from the steamer before 
 starting, but if I don't, you'll know that the bustle is too great. . . . 
 
 " ^ to 8. All right and jolly, my dears ; a lovely morning, and I 
 am feeling quite well — ^just sitting down to breakfast." 
 
 In the envelope containing the above letter, there is still the hurried 
 line from the steamer — in pencil on half a sheet of note paper. It may 
 as well be given :— 
 
 " 9 o'clock. — I write this in my cabin, which I have secured all 
 right. Hope they will have posted the letter I left at the hotel. 
 
 9. 30. — We're just about off, I think, and for fear of missing the man 
 who takes this, I shut up. All right, God bless you." 
 
 "Sunday, May 10, 1868. Steamship * Kedar,' somewhere off the 
 coast of Portugal. 
 
 *' My Dearest Mother, — Of course this will be a much looked for 
 letter, and so I cannot do better than begin at once, although I can only 
 carry it up to this day, and double the distance, almost, has to be done, 
 before it can get to the post. After I sent off that last scrap — which 
 was taken ashore by one of the Captain's children who had come to 
 bid him good-bye — we slowly began to work our way, inch at a time, 
 out of dock, and it was not until about 12 that we passed New 
 Brighton, and the first day was uneventful enough. It was fine, though 
 exceedingly cold towards evening, the crew were busy getting rid of some 
 of the dreadful confusion of ropes, &c., and I did not * turn in ' until past 
 10 ; and as you may suppose, the strange noises, the scuffling tramp of 
 feet, the crackings and throbbings of the engines, kept one from sleeping 
 for a long time. All this I need scarcely say affects me little 
 enough now, and I believe that in time one might sleep sweetly 
 on a runaway horse — with plenty of room for him. The next 
 morning was beautiful, but with a long tremendous sort of swell 
 from the Atlantic, and the only other passenger (who is a young 
 
i868 FREDERICK WALKER 131 
 
 Liverpool man, and an invalid) soon became very ill, and disappeared. 
 The crew were by this time preparing to get ' some of the dirt off,' 
 as the Captain said, and soon there was nothing but sluicing and scrub- 
 bing. I was very hungry, and have had all since a famous appetite. At 
 2 o'clock, we were passing the Scilly Islands (see map). In the evening, 
 the poor passenger was much worse, though he struggled on deck for a 
 time. One of the officers asked me how it was that I was not ill — on 
 which point I could not enlighten him. We were now entering the Bay 
 of Biscay, and had long since lost sight of land. The roof of the saloon, 
 and passenger cabins, &c., form a deck or promenade which you did not 
 see, and chiefly on this I take my daily exercise, and on that evening 
 walked with Captain M. until late, in the moonlight. My rest was 
 afterwards disturbed by the great motion of the ship, which rolled 
 tremendously in the swell. Friday morning was very wet and cheerless, 
 but I was not going to remain below, and put on the wonderful macin- 
 tosh suit, for which I have since been much chaffed by the Captain, who 
 said I was got up like a Liverpool pilot. However, I didn't care, and if 
 there'd ensued a week's wet, the laugh would have been considerably on 
 my side ; and by the way, the Captain is a very dry caustic fellow, and can 
 say rather severe things without seeming to mean it. In the afternoon, the 
 rain cleared off, though by this time it was preciously rough, which was 
 only to be expected as it was blowing S.W. and we were in the 
 Bay. However, yesterday morning it was warmer, and we saw 
 Cape Finisterre dreamily and beautifully in the far distance ; and 
 knowing that I was looking at Spain, felt that we had really made 
 some way, and the wonder was that we did not feel the difference 
 in temperature more, but towards evening we felt it, and the air was 
 miraculously clear, the stars most wonderful — Venus appearing like a 
 little moon behind the light clouds, and casting a bright sheen on 
 the big waves. I thought, as it grew darker, that the crests on the waves 
 looked very light, and the Captain told me that if I went ' aft,' and 
 looked at the ship's wake, I should see more light ; and on going, I saw 
 the most beautiful sight, the great stream of water churned up by the pro- 
 peller, was perfectly luminous, like the tail of a comet, and among it, 
 appearing and disappearing, were bright globules of light. Such a sight, 
 in the solitude, has a strange impressive effect on one." 
 
 " Monday night, about 70 miles from Gibraltar. Here I am in the 
 Mediterranean. I did intend going on with this yesterday, but some- 
 how I could not write. The day, which had been tremendously warm, 
 ended with a strong, and anything but warm, wind, driving us, up to this 
 time at a wonderful rate, right from behind. When breakfast was over 
 yesterday, and the crew all in white ducks and ribbons, the Captain 
 came up to me and made a request that rather collapsed me — it was 
 no less than that I would act as clerk during service, which was to be 
 held in the saloon. Of course I at once endeavoured to excuse myself, 
 for alas, I felt unworthy and incompetent, but he would receive no 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 excuse, and as as there was no actual impediment, I was silenced ; but I 
 can honestly say that I then, in the time left me, did do my best to make 
 myself fit for it, and when the time came, took the part with sincerity at 
 at least. At one o'clock, we were off the rock of Lisbon — the town 
 being hid. There were great shoals of porpoises, gambolling about, and 
 shooting underneath — their great brown bodies going like rockets — and 
 after passing the Cape of St. Vincent, off which the battle was fought, 
 and seeing the poor old moon rise, I turned in. The great event of 
 passing Gibraltar came off at 3 this afternoon, and certainly the sight, 
 as we passed between Europe and Africa, was as impressive as the idea. 
 T made an attempt to do Gibraltar ; and as a background to a little 
 
 subject I have thought workable, it may do. Since sunset (there 
 is no twilight here) I have walked and talked with Captain M., who 
 improves on closer acquaintance, and I fancy he rather likes the way 
 I take and answer his chaff. He commanded the vessel in which 
 Thackeray went to New York, And now I'll go above, for it is a true 
 Mediterranean night, soft and warm." 
 
 " Thursday night. I'm afraid, my dear, that this rum letter will read 
 stupidly, and in a disconnected sort of way, but you won't mind I know. 
 We are getting by this time towards Genoa, and I hope we shall be in 
 the harbour by about 10, to-morrow. It has set in a regular wet night, I 
 fear — very calm since the morning, but since 4, gradually getting 
 overcast, and now there is a smart wind springing up, and a splashing 
 disagreeable rain. Monday night was wonderful. After I left off 
 writing, I went up, and the whole sea seemed covered with slabs of 
 phosphorus, the crest of every wave being perfectly luminous — so much 
 so as to make a very sharp look out necessary for any ship's light being 
 quite mixed up with it. On Tuesday evening, there was a good deal of 
 lightning, and since then we have seen whales, sharks, and porpoises, no 
 end. While I was making a little pencil sketch of the second officer's 
 head, at his urgent request, a shoal of about twenty whales was all about 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 T^y?> 
 
 the ship. I must tell you that I have earned the Captain's eternal 
 gratitude, by doing a small water colour of him. He turns out very 
 appreciative, and a thorough good fellow, and we now quite understand 
 each other. He has told me that should ever I be in Liverpool again, 
 with the same object as last, he will be very glad to lodge me at his 
 house, before going aboard ; and that leads me to declare that I consider 
 this such a success, that I certainly would hope, if I live, and all's well 
 next spring, to come this way again, in this same vessel ; and then if we 
 prosper, perhaps I need not be by myself. My appetite is very good, 
 and I am always ready for breakfast ; and these last two mornings I've 
 had a sea sponge bath, though yesterday it was a difficult matter, on 
 account of the ship's motion. It is quite uncertain whether I leave this 
 vessel to-morrow, or go on to Leghorn. If there is any changing of 
 carriages, or that kind of thing, I certainly mean to do the latter, 
 although in that case, I do not reach Leghorn until Sunday next, as we 
 stay here until Saturday to discharge the cargo. However, Captain M. 
 and I go to their agents at once to-morrow, and ascertain which will be 
 the better plan. I rather expect the Fosters will be at Venice by the 
 20th, and though I'm bent upon being at another hotel to theirs, it will 
 be nice to have them at hand. I have been reading a charming little 
 book by Leigh Hunt — it is a gossiping little volume about Kensington 
 — all that has happened in it historically, all about Holland House, and 
 Kensington Palace, and the people that have lived thereabouts. It is 
 called *The old Court Suburb,' I am going to have a herring for 
 supper. Supper is not laid out; we have breakfast 8.30, dinner at i, 
 tea at 6, and if anything is wanted after that, it has to be called for. 
 There is a kind of rack put round the table to keep the things from 
 shooting into one's lap. I saw the steward once make a snatch at a soup 
 
 
 tureen, just in time to save it. I made a rough sketch of our dinner 
 table, but fear it ain't good. Ah dear ! I wish I could tell you of the 
 wonderful effects and sensations during such a little experience as this. 
 
134 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 I certainly have the greatest admiration for the way in which this little 
 vessel is managed. It is a kind of little kingdom — perfect obedience and 
 order — one officer is always on duty night and day, and the great rough 
 men all seem to work with a will. I often think (how often it would be 
 difficult to say) of my dears at home, and all the troubles and ambitious 
 little schemes that I seem to have left behind for a few weeks ; and 
 goodness knows that I shall be glad enough to get back to it all. I 
 wonder if our passing Gibraltar was telegraphed, and if you read of it. 
 That man Duncan (Burns and Mclver's clerk) came on board just as 
 we were leaving dock, and he said he would give you the intelligence, in 
 case you missed seeing it. I will not close this to-night, in case I have 
 more to add before post leaves to-morrow ; but good night, with all love 
 and blessings on you two and the others, from your own boy." 
 
 " Friday, one o'clock. We are in Genoa harbour, and 1 think I 
 shall go on to Leghorn by this vessel, or at any rate, not start for Venice 
 to-day. The Italian Royal Family are here. All the harbour is 
 decorated, and there are to be grand doings for the next day or two — 
 regattas, illuminations, &c. The agent's clerk will give me all informa- 
 tion as to trains, this afternoon. The Italian fleet is here, and everything 
 looks very pretty, and I only wish you were here to see it all. It's 
 awfully hot now we are out of the sea breeze. I am going ashore after 
 dinner, with Captain M., when I shall post this ; so best love to my 
 dears, and farewell for a day or two, when I'll write again, and am 
 always your own loving Fred." 
 
 The fetes of which Walker makes mention in the next letter, and 
 also in his letters from Venice, were in honour of the marriage of the 
 Crown Prince Humbert of Italv with the Princess Margaret. 
 
 May 1 6, from Genoa harbour : — 
 
 " As I am leaving this 'ere wessel on Monday morning very early 
 (the train leaves at 5.15, and with 2 hours' rest at Milan, gets to Venice 
 at 8.15 p.m.), I shall scarcely be ready for letter writing when I get there, 
 and so sit down for a little communication with my sister, who, by the 
 way, is just about 2,500 miles from me. I cannot say how often I have 
 wished that you, or all of my own people, were with me. The reality 
 of such an experience as this is so far beyond any imagination, that 
 description seems almost useless — at least I felt so as I rambled by 
 myself this morning through the glorious, sunny, picturesque, old town. 
 When I think that in poor old London, one cannot place one's self or 
 one's belongings out of doors, without getting dirty ^ it seems so strange. 
 There is a queer, almost theatrical, Masaniello-like effect about the 
 groups of figures, and the queer buildings, all in good, beautiful, colour ; 
 from the side of a house, to the unconscious way in which an old woman 
 matches her head covering with her dress. I sat on a stone bench for an 
 hour, near the theatre, and seemed to feed on the wonderful novelty ; 
 and at such a time, most strangely I find myself face to face — now and 
 then almost painfully — with all that I left, a little fortnight ago. By 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 135 
 
 that I mean, one's thoughts are so wilful, that they fly from the object 
 before one's bodily eye, to the possible present a long way off. .... 
 Last night, I went ashore with the first officer, who is a red-whiskered, 
 and rather genial, fellow, and with the passenger, who is very young, 
 and not very interesting (poor fellow, he is much better already), to see 
 the illuminations, and until last night, I had never seen any. The town 
 was given up to it, and the dreamy, artistic effect was something 
 marvellous, helped by flowing tapestries, and a thousand things that 
 you'd imagine only enthusiasm and unbounded wealth could manage, and 
 yet there seems to be a very moderate share of the latter, according to 
 our standard of it. We mixed with the thick (and even in that light, 
 picturesque) crowd, and a gentle, good-natured crowd it was ; and after- 
 wards we turned into a cafe or wine shop, in a narrow, yet sparkling, 
 turning, where we continued our cigars, and where you might have sat 
 with us ; and indeed there were matrons, national guards, young girls, 
 and little boys, all seeming to my eyes ladies and gentlemen, drinking 
 iced water and sugar, or lemonade coloured with fruit. As for us, we 
 drank our glasses of marsala, then strolled down again to the rows of 
 boats at the harbour side, and quietly paddled over the cool water, 
 twinkling with thousands of lights, past the silent, black ships, to our own. 
 We are in the middle of the harbour, and to-morrow is to be the grand 
 day. After the regatta (before the Royal folks), the town, the harbour, 
 the fleet, even our own ' Kedar,' and the high hills that surround the city, 
 will burst into coloured lights ; and as we are placed, we must see the 
 best of it all. It seems odd to be talking of a mere light-up in this way, 
 but if you only knew the headlong and perfect manner in which the thing 
 is done, you could not help enjoying it. This reminds me that my 
 epistle must be posted to-morrow morning, and it is my intention to take 
 it ashore, and engage my cab and my boat for the railway station early 
 on the morrow, for if I don't manage it quite soon in the morning, it 
 will be impossible in the afternoon, I am certain. The people on the 
 vessel seem sorry that I am going on Monday morning, instead of going 
 to Leghorn with them, but money is an object (though I forget it often 
 enough), and the sooner I get to Venice, the better. I have done no work 
 yet — the confusion or something being against it — and this won't do, 
 you know ; yet I do not feel as though I had been idle, as I should 
 have been in the same time at home. I wonder how that red may-tree 
 looks, by the way, and whether the blossoms on the other things fulfil 
 their promise. . . . Well, dear, it is late, and I know the poor 
 
 steward's mate is only waiting to put out the light." 
 
 Walker reached Venice on Monday, May 18, and was much dis- 
 appointed to find no letters awaiting him. In a letter to his mother, 
 written the same evening, from the Grand Hotel de I'Europe, he says : — 
 
 " . . . . Why on earth haven't you written .? I have asked, but 
 there are no letters from the Burgh. It would have just made my 
 slumbers a little sweeter, but I suppose they'll come all in a bunch. 
 
136 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 I made a mistake in my letter to Fan, I meant that I had travelled 2,500 
 miles ; of course I am not that distance from you now. I did think of 
 going round to the hotel where the Fosters must be by this time, but 
 the storm and my aching limbs forbid. This is a wonderful old place, 
 but more of it in my next." 
 
 May 20 : - "I cannot help beginning this by asking how it is that no 
 letters have reached me. I did expect to find some on my arrival, and 
 now two days have elapsed, and I don't know what to think. You see I 
 am still my poor self, and cannot get on without knowing that all's going 
 on well, and I cannot tell you how I have hungered for news from you or 
 Fan, and to-day have sometimes felt quite unhappy, for fear that some- 
 thing has gone wrong. / am alone., and feel none the less so for this. I 
 know you took the address, and of course, had they been unable to lodge 
 me here, they would yet have received my letters. I had just as soon 
 return at once, if I am to be kept in suspense ; do pray write, or all my 
 comfort is gone. I look to having a letter in the morning, and then 
 all will be well. I have seen very little besides the usual thing, by 
 sauntering or taking a gondola. The Fosters have not arrived, nor can 
 I tell what has possessed them, for they were to have left by the 15th at 
 latest. If I thought they and their courier weren't coming, and could 
 only have a few lines from you, I would engage a ' valet de place ' and 
 begin work at once. The gentleman to whom Mrs. Millais' letter was 
 addressed, was kindness itself, but can do very little for me, I fear. I am 
 afraid this is a depressing note ; but if, on its receipt, you know that I 
 have received a letter from you, it need not be depressing. I am quite 
 well in body, thank goodness — eat and sleep well — and when I see the 
 well-known hand on a letter shall be quite comfortable, and will then send 
 you long, prosy letters. ... I have walked and smoked on the wonderful 
 square of St. Mark, listening to the band, until I am quite tired." 
 
 May 22 : — " At last I can say that your letter has arrived, and so 
 with pipe in mouth, and slippers on, I sit down to answer. I really do 
 think that if I'd not heard from you to-day, I should have been telegraph- 
 ing, or doing something extravagant. The letter was brought to my 
 room, for they knew I was anxious, and I read it while at my coffee and 
 roll, which I take in bed, having no breakfast till 12 or i, and then 
 making it luncheon, with half a bottle of claret. And so I'm all right ; 
 but you've no idea how many notions got into my head as I tried to 
 review things, fancying that some bad news must surely reach me, and 
 almost wishing I hadn't come so far. I am beginning work at last, and 
 pretty high time too, I think. You see I've been so very unsettled — in 
 a whirl of things that I might do — but then could not make myself 
 understood ; no Fosters with their courier to apply to (what's gone with 
 them, goodness only knows), and so at last, to-day, I've fixed upon a 
 gondola subject, and the next thing is to carry it out. And, with the 
 aid of Mr. Rawdon Brown, I've hired a man (who can speak enough 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 137 
 
 English to get on with), a lad, and last not least, a gondola, for very 
 little more than I, as a swell, am expected to pay for a day's gondola 
 alone. You'd be surprised at the difficulty in getting at men who speak 
 English, just at this time, they're so snatched at ; I mean the ' valet de 
 place ' kind of animal, who is after all a mere servant or interpreter, and 
 a precious expensive one too, for very often they feather their own nests, 
 and keep well with the natives at the same time, of course at ' Signor's ' 
 cost. 
 
 " I never told you of my experience in getting from Genoa to this. 
 I had, like an idiot, placed trust in the agent's clerk at Genoa — an 
 amiable sort of foreigner in tight trousers — he was always on board 
 superintending the unloading, and managed to have all his tribe on board 
 last Sunday night, to see the display. Well, he undertook to have a 
 boat ready at 4.30, Monday morning, and a cab at the harbour side. 
 The boat was there sure enough, and the young fellow passenger, who 
 wanted for some unknown reason to ' see me off,' and I, jumped in ; but 
 at the harbour side, when my baggage had been searched, there was no 
 cab ; so after waiting, and looking like a fool, I made two Genoese 
 shoulder the things, and of course, as an Italian wouldn't hurry, to save 
 his skin, my train had gone. But the fun is, that though I waited 
 until 7.12, and then went by another route, I arrived here at just the 
 same time — 8.20 in the evening — and jolly glad I was to leave the train, 
 too, and in my hurry I stepped into 6 inches of clear water — took one 
 step too many in fact — trying to get into the gondola, and when in, I 
 sat in the wrong place ! ! ! Yesterday, I went to an island called Lido. 
 It is a longish strip of land that divides the shallow waters of Venice 
 from the Adriatic ; and which, as a thin, wooded line, I can see from this 
 window. It was a favourite place of Byron's — he used to walk and ride, 
 and intended being buried, there, and Shelley the poet gives a very 
 beautiful description of it — and from a little deserted cemetery one gets 
 a very good view of Venice, seen between the melancholy trees — I think 
 of doing it. On leaving my boat, I walked straight across the island to 
 where the Adriatic seems lightly to plash on beautiful ridges of sand. 
 There is no tide, you know, and the canals and sea rise and fall only a 
 few inches. And this strangely melancholy island is covered with shells 
 — one can see them among the drawable weeds and flowers, towards the 
 shore — and towards the water-mark, there are seams of shells, some quite 
 beautiful. I walked back inside the island, among the vines, and there 
 are those trees with the shivering leaves, like the little ones opposite 
 the Burgh ; and among the banks and straw fences are beautiful little 
 lizards at every turn. I must do something there, and have been again 
 this afternoon. R, Brown seems somewhat surprised that I am not 
 copying ' old masters ' instead, but I thought the place looked interesting 
 when I first saw it. However, R. B. is kindness itself, and lent me 
 the volume of Shelley — the island is mentioned in the poem called 
 * Julian and Maddalo.' At R. B's advice, I bought a small, white sun- 
 shade or umbrella, the usual thing here ; for a ' coup de soleil ' is by no 
 
138 LIFE AISIB LErTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 means an impossibility, without some little precaution. I shall be 
 awfully glad of dear Fan's letter. How often I wish she were here, for 
 my sake and for hers. . . . This place is no end gay ; the enormous 
 Square of St. Mark is always full, of an evening, and the Prince and 
 his bride show themselves at one of the windows. I am disappointed 
 with the music — the military band, I mean — they play beautifully, but 
 nothing but the sprightly dance business. Well, I have almost pumped 
 out all I had to say for to-night ; shall have more no doubt when Fan's 
 letter comes." 
 
 May 23, to his sister Mary : — ■ 
 
 " 1 feel that I must send you a line or two, just to keep you from 
 grumbling, you know ; but what I have to say, is the difficulty, for in 
 writing to the missus, I've pumped myself dry of news, and I expect she 
 will be retailing all I tell her. I've just had dinner at the table d'hote^ 
 and as it's ^ past 7, I am writing this on the rough marble window 
 sill of my room, for it's nearly dark, and the evenings don't * draw out ' 
 and ' close in,' as in our poor dear England, that 1 snarl about so when 
 I'm there. Between ourselves, I often wish I had a companion while 
 here — some genial spirit, such as I could so easily make out of different 
 bits taken from the fellows I know — or (blest thought) a little woman 
 with my ring on her finger, and her heart given to me to take care of. 
 I'm afraid such a thing will never be my good fortune, however ; or if 
 it is to be so, why not while I can so fully appreciate the gift .^ Others 
 find all they want, and seem to take it as a matter of course ; and 
 having now so much time to think, as 1 have so little chance of talking, 
 I do confess to feeling sometimes solitary. Some men and boys have 
 just begun to sing a glee in a canal at the front, and the great tower of 
 St. Mark is booming out, as usual without any apparent object. It's an 
 enormous tower — the gold angel at the top said to be over 30 feet 
 high — and now I can hear, mingling with the other sounds, the military 
 band in the great Square. I'm almost tired of their distant trumpeting 
 and drumming, for I find they play little more than dance music — they 
 played ' Bella Figlia ' the other evening while I was strolling there, 
 however. I've begun a water colour at last ; a gondola in front coming 
 towards one down a narrow canal, with the green sea-weed clinging to- 
 the marble steps and walls. I've hired a man who can talk English a 
 bit, and better still, can understand me^ when I speak ; and he has a lad and 
 a gondola, and I'm to have all three at about 7^. 6d. or rather Sj". a day. 
 I take them by the day, as I would models — and indeed they'll have to 
 act as such — reserving to myself the right of telling them I don't want 
 'em, whenever I choose. A gondola alone costs 5 francs a day, so as. 
 work is the object, this other arrangement will do for the present. It's- 
 not the easiest thing in the world beginning work, when you have to do- 
 without talking almost entirely. When my present gondolier knew I 
 intended sketching, he inquired if I knew ' Monsieur Ruskin de 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 139 
 
 Londres,' and he turned out to have been his gondolier. ... In this 
 man's gondola there is always an engaging kind of poodle dog, with a 
 stump of a tail — his hair is short, but he doesn t shave — and his chief 
 object in life seems to be how to get in the shade ; all this after- 
 noon he was in the little cabin of the gondola. I hope the new man's 
 boat will be as good. The motion is very soothing, and gives one a 
 luxurious feeling. They seem very elegant in line, and most of them 
 have a good deal of carving. The way the men handle them, in and out 
 among the others, is a miracle." 
 
 The same date, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line before I go to bed. I've begun work, and to-morrow 1 
 begin with my man who speaks English, and with him I hope to get on 
 all serene. To-day has been occupied in putting in a gondola, which 1 
 find anything but easy to draw ; however, it's all right now, I think. 
 Awfully warm it is, especially in the evening. After dinner I wrote a 
 note to our Poll ; since then I've been to see if there were any news of 
 the Fosters — Oh no, of course not. I want them to come, because I 
 don't wish to see the grand pictures by myself, as it would take a great 
 deal of extra time in finding them out, &c., and you see they have a 
 courier, and I expect would set aside a part of each day to picture 
 seeing ; and the rest, with me, would be picture making. A good deal of 
 thunder and lightning before dinner, and indeed a little of it every day 
 almost, from the direction of the Alps — keeps the air clear, I fancy, 
 though. Shall hope for a second letter to-morrow morning." 
 
 I interrupt the course of the letters for a moment, to draw attention 
 to the above reference to the pictures ; not on account of anything note- 
 worthy in itself, but because this is literally the only time the pictures 
 are mentioned in these Venice letters. The reader, however, must not 
 conclude that Walker was wanting in appreciation of the masterpieces to 
 be seen in Venice and elsewhere. From whatever cause his reticence 
 arose, it was certainly not due to this. On one occasion, I remember his 
 saying to me with extraordinary emphasis — I believe in reference to the 
 picture by Titian, Portrait of a Doge^ lent by Mr. Ruskin to the 
 Exhibition of the Works of Old Masters at Burlington House, in 1 870 — 
 "Titian must have been brim full of art when he painted that." 
 
 May 24, to his mother : — 
 
 "You see I can't help sending something just before going to bed, 
 though before doing so I'm going to have a bit of supper, for I had no 
 dinner. The heat was great, and I was in a working fit, so I came home, 
 and while they were going it at the table d'hote^ I had tea and bread and 
 butter while my boat was waiting, then out again, and altogether I've 
 got on very well. The new boat and the men are a success, and I am 
 very comfortable in the knowledge that I am making a bit more money. 
 I have found a splendid bit of old stuff for the background — I won't 
 
I40 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 describe it — to-morrow morning I go on with the gondola itself, which 
 is moored some little way off, while I sit on some steps ; and in the 
 afternoon^ — the sun being then off the place — I go on with the back- 
 ground. Since work (and I managed to go on till near 8), I have 
 been for a sharp trot, warm as it is ; and I find that, once knowing the 
 way, one may walk almost all over Venice. Just as I got past the canal 
 where the Bridge of Sighs is, I turned round and saw the beauteous 
 moon — it was a new moon, but the air was so clear that the rest of her 
 was perfectly luminous — and now I suppose there will be a new splendour 
 to this most wonderful place. Blessed work ! 1 am quite content to 
 go on with that only, until I get back to you. I do not care for other 
 company, now I am at it, until I leave the place ; and I know where to 
 find my nooks and corners when I do return. Never fear if I am not 
 back by the loth of June — I have done enough for the present at Pall 
 Mall — but you will see me, if I live, on some day in that sweet month, 
 with every resolve to do my best. I sent a letter to Captain Muir 
 at Naples, as he wished it much, telling him of my arrival ; and this 
 morning, after reading over your letter and Fan's, I thought I might see 
 if it were possible to go back with him on the return passage — we 
 discussed it at Genoa, but he could tell me nothing, as all was 
 uncertainty until after leaving Naples — so this morning I sent a telegram 
 to the * Kedar ' at Naples, asking if I could join him in returning ; but, 
 alas, the vessel had gone, the answer said. 
 
 " Antonio is my new man's name ; he is very quick and obliging. He 
 addresses me, not as * Sir,' but ' gentleman.' He undertakes to 
 procure me any native as model, such as I may require ; taking them to 
 the place, as I may want them, in the gondola, then returning for me — I 
 am going to have a pair of children on the stone steps in my new water 
 colour — he seems to have a most refreshing instinct as regards the 
 picturesque. The little cabin of the gondola forms a miniature room, 
 with a sliding window on each side, cushioned and easy, and I feel sure 
 that I shall do some creditable work now. Do not fail to write, because 
 you think there's nothing to write about, there's always enough to 
 interest me ; the words, ' no news, all right,' are worth the sending to 
 solitary me, and a few lines will always help me to contentment for the 
 day. God bless you both. Am suddenly feeling sleepy, since the bit of 
 supper which I've eaten over this." 
 
 From the description given in the above letter, the reader who is 
 familiar with Walker's work, will recognise the drawing of The Gondola^ 
 now in the possession of the Right Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P. 
 
 May 26 : — " No letter from you for two days, but 1 write just to 
 say all's right. I am going on well with my work, though it's preciously 
 hot, and requires all one's energy to get on. The Fosters and Orchardson 
 are here in this very hotel. Yesterday morning, I was coming in to 
 lunch, when I found the whole party on the steps. They had arrived on 
 
1 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 141 
 
 Sunday night without my knowing anything of it ; the other hotel they 
 intended putting up at was fuil. The telegram I sent to Naples has 
 been attended to. I have received two since Sunday, and it appears that 
 the ' Kedar ' will return to Naples early next month, I almost fear too soon 
 for me to get back by her, but shall know more in a day or two, I think. 
 The F's are very jolly and kind, and all's going on first rate. I have 
 been out with them in the cool air, and have been with them since." 
 
 May 27 : — " I've just come in from the water, where I've been with 
 the Fosters, enjoying another pageant that came off this evening, viz. 
 the serenade of the Royal party down the Grand Canal. All the nobility 
 were out, their fairy-like gilded gondolas forming a sort of a wall or 
 passage in the middle of the Canal, all the gondoliers, &c., being in 
 mediaeval costume. These, with the enormous crowd of ordinary boats, 
 and the great car, containing the performers waiting patiently until the 
 Royal boats appeared from the Palace, and the whole floating city 
 escorting them along, — the effect was thrilling and grand to a degree. 
 Description is useless, and ah ! how often I wished you were with me. 
 I must tell you that the heat is something tremendous, though I still 
 go on with work, and my picture is going on very well, I think — I 
 haven't let the F's see it. I bought a white felt broad-brimmed 
 hat this morning, round which 1 wrap my white crape ; and I've ordered 
 a cheap holland suit, such as is worn here, to be done by Friday. To- 
 day I wrote to Naples on the chance that I may still go back by the 
 
 * Kedar ' ; I asked for particulars, and the date if possible. The F's go 
 back via Switzerland and the Alps. Three days, and no letter. Well, 
 I won't blame you, poor dears, for I know you must have plenty on 
 hand ; but I confess to feeling disappointed this morning at having to 
 get up without a letter, for when they do come, I always read them in 
 bed over coffee. The heat seems to have driven some of the visitors 
 away. This hotel is not so full as it was, but it is very comfortable. I 
 have been reading ' Pickwick ' which I take out in my boat, and in the 
 afternoon some seltzer to refresh me with, as I am rowed to and fro. By the 
 way, that little book of Ruskin's is very good. I hear he was admiring my 
 
 * Well-diggers ' at the Gallery very much — this is from Foster. . . . 
 I have slept very well lately. The boatmen used to wake me by their 
 singing. There is a sort of boat station by the hotel side, such as would 
 be a cab-rank in London, and the fellows are rather fond of glees at two 
 or three in the m.orning. Well, I've disappeared without saying good 
 night to the F's, so must go down and do a little cool drink, and so to bed, 
 hoping that I shall see your handwriting or Fan's in the morning." 
 
 May 31, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 " I've just concluded the dreadful process of dressing, and now 
 having struggled into my hollands and fortified myself with iced seltzer, 
 I answer your letter, received this morning. And before I go further, 
 I'd better tell you that this is the second letter I've had from you, and 
 
142 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 before receiving the other, I sent you a long one with a rough sketch of 
 St. Mark's Tower in it ; and as you do not mention the letter, and 
 question me as to my daily living, &c., I conclude that you never 
 received it. I directed it to Braceley Cottage ; and I can only say that 
 the bother and anxiety I've suffered as regards letters and their non- 
 arrival, have tended more to keep me from being comfortable, than 
 anything. My being ' savage ' at not finding a letter here on my arrival, 
 is scarcely the word. The last promise the Missus gave me was that 
 letters should surely be waiting for me ; and if ever you go so great a 
 distance as this, into a country where you don't know a word of the 
 language, and by yourself, are kept in suspense for four days, as I was, 
 you will know that it is no light matter. I could take by the throat 
 any one I found keeping my letters back. After receiving your first, 
 nearly a week elapsed without a line from Bayswater, and Mamma will 
 show you the envelope containing the letter that reached me at length 
 yesterday morning, and the way in which I secured it after all — that is, 
 if it ever reaches her. I am afraid I cannot stay here much longer, on 
 account of the heat, which is quite tropical. A funny little incident 
 took place yesterday. An Englishman called a gondola near the Opera 
 House, but the man wouldn't stir — it was mid-day, and I suppose as 
 usual he was lying in the bottom of his boat — he called to another, and 
 then to some more, but no, they wouldn't move. The Englishman just 
 spoke to a gendarme officer who came down upon them, and said as 
 they did not care to work, they shouldn't ; and all yesterday there 
 were twenty unhappy gondoliers in their boats all of a row, not allowed 
 to move the whole rest of the day. Talking of the Opera House, we 
 all went last night, and though it was awfully hot, I enjoyed it im- 
 mensely. It was ' La Favorita,' and * Ange si pur ' sounded beautiful. 
 The Royal folks were there, and we were in a box — it's not considered 
 the thing for ladies to be in the stalls. Great numbers of the gentlemen 
 had fans, and used them all the evening like the ladies. . . . This hotel 
 was once a palace, and it's most picturesque ; the outside from the 
 Grand Canal is simply splendid. The Royal folks usually go about in a 
 plain little gondola with four rowers ; men and boat being trimmed with 
 blue, and a silver crown rising at the back of the seat. We went the 
 other night to a fete at the Public Gardens. We were supplied with 
 tickets for the aristocratic part by the proprietor of the hotel, which 
 enabled us to mingle with the Royalty and nobility. The Princess is 
 quite beautiful, and seems a very great favourite." 
 
 June I, to his mother : — 
 
 " Your letter of Thursday came this morning, but I did not receive 
 it until an hour ago, because I left with Foster and Mrs. Brown early 
 this morning before post time, to go by steamer to a place called 
 Chioggia — a town inhabited entirely by fishing people, and very 
 picturesque — about twenty miles away in the Adriatic. We came back 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 143 
 
 to dinner, and of course before sitting down I ran into my room for 
 letters, and found yours, which I now answer, having finished dinner. . . . 
 I expect this will be my last week here. The Fosters go at the end of 
 this week, and I think by that time I shall be almost ready to leave. 
 I haven't had a letter yet from Naples about the ' Kedar,' but may do so 
 to-morrow. I read about the Derby yesterday, and am not sorry to 
 have missed that, anyhow. . . . The reason the Fosters were so long in 
 coming was, that at the last moment they arranged to drive from 
 Marseilles to Genoa, which took up time. . . . The Fosters are going 
 to take it easy, going home through Switzerland. I'd like to do it with 
 them very well, but cannot afford it ; and, if possible, would after all 
 prefer the * Kedar,' for it would do me more good, I think. I cannot tell 
 you how very often I think of home and its contents, and what we have 
 gone through — its joys and sorrows. Ah, well, I hope you will soon be 
 seeing me again now, and then we will talk of this as among the past. 
 Bitter as some of our sorrows have been, we can, I hope, feel comfort in 
 knowing that to the best of our limited powers, we tried to do our 
 most — at least you did, at any rate." 
 
 June 2 : — " Just at this last moment before going to bed, I write to 
 say that I sent another telegram to Naples, and the answer is that the 
 ' Kedar ' does not return to Naples, but goes direct to Liverpool from 
 Alexandria ; so it's all up with the idea of going home by her. And 
 now I hear that the Fosters are leaving this on Thursday, and it's just 
 possible that I may leave with them, going as far as Verona or some 
 other place with them, and there leaving them, and getting home as fast 
 as I can. I am almost finished with this place. I mean that I am tired 
 of its very beauties, and longing to get back, and as usual I am in an 
 uncertain state as to finances. All right, I think, as to getting back, but 
 I want to begin afresh at home. So don't send any more letters on 
 receipt of this ; I shall leave proper directions for letters being sent on, 
 in case any arrive after I've left. As usual I feel that I haven't done a 
 quarter the work I ought to have done, but it can't be helped. I've 
 been to Lido to-day to begin a something else, and shall go there 
 to-morrow, but the heat and other things prevent one doing the work 
 that I'd like to do. I shall try to give you all account of my movements 
 on getting home, but if you don't hear from me, you'll know it's all 
 right. I am very well, and only want to be in old quarters again." 
 
 June 6, from the Hotel Cavour, Milan : — 
 
 " You see by the heading of this, that at last I am on my return, 
 though the return will be a long one rather, for I have resolutely set my 
 face against wilfully knocking myself up by a lot of night travelling. I 
 left Venice early yesterday morning with the Fosters, and went with 
 them to Verona. We got there at about two, and spent the afternoon 
 in quietly driving about the place, and a wonderful old town it is, most 
 beautifully lying at the tail end of the Alps. There is a stone amphi- 
 theatre where the old gladiators fought, and fellows sat in their togas 
 
144 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 looking on. The Fosters had telegraphed for rooms, and we were 
 made very comfortable. In leaving Venice with them, I avoided a world 
 of discomfort, for the getting away is notoriously dreadful ; the con- 
 fusion and bother quite maddening at the station, where they are awfully 
 strict in searching all luggage, &c., and though I left the hotel with them 
 I had my own gondola, for poor Antonio would insist upon my being 
 served by himself and the lad, up to the last, although I had settled our 
 little matters the night before. So I followed the Fosters up the canals, 
 and tipped the lad through the curtains of the boat. Of course their 
 courier managed everything at the station, and so my departure from 
 Venice was a very different affair from what it might have been, had I 
 left the place alone. We left Verona this morning, and I took leave of 
 them finally at a place called Bergamo, where they had to change 
 carriages, for they were going to the Lakes, and cross the Alps at 
 St. Gothard, and finish up with the Rhine. They were all very sorry to 
 lose me, I think, and I am sure I was to leave them, for they have been 
 most jolly. Well, I arrived here at about half-past four, and there was 
 the usual turning over of the baggage at the station, and I fancy the 
 functionary thought he'd got a prize, for he literally turned over every- 
 thing — all my shirts and things. My poor old flute was wrapped in 
 one, and he even looked suspiciously at the end of it, till I said * flauto ' ; 
 and an old lanthorn that belonged to a gondola, which I am bringing 
 home, was wrapped up in shavings so like tobacco, that he took out 
 a pinch and sniffed at it ! However, he at last lifted his shako and 
 thanked me, and I was soon driven here, and after dinner at the 
 ^al^/e (Thote^ I took a long walk, finishing up with the jolly public gardens 
 that are near this hotel. I fear I must admit feeling a little solitary and 
 home-sick in those gardens — so good and so prettily laid out, yet so very 
 unlike ours — and then the little children seem so odd, with their small 
 upturned faces lisping Italian. Ah, I shall indeed not be sorry to get 
 back, and to do so I propose leaving this to-morrow, and sleeping 
 to-morrow night at Turin, and on Monday I hope to cross the Alps at 
 Mont Cenis. And I shall, I think, be among the very first of the 
 public doing so by rail, for though it has been open for other purposes 
 for some little time, it has not been available to the public as yet. The 
 Duke of Sutherland was the first passenger about a fortnight ago, and 
 he was chairman or something at the opening ceremony. The railway 
 goes through the pass, side by side with the old carriage road, and of 
 course, should I find after all that the railway is not opened on Monday, 
 I cross in the usual way by diligence, and that takes ten hours, the other 
 only four. At Turin, I sleep at the Hotel Feder, and next night shall 
 be at Macon ; from Macon to Paris ; sleep there on Tuesday night — at 
 Meurice's, I think — and may possibly get to town on Wednesday or 
 Thursday. I cannot quite say which, but shall have time to send you 
 another letter. So now, my dear, I've told you all of it in outline. I 
 did think to write you a very long letter with lots in it, but somehow 1 
 am sleepy, and can't do justice to a long letter. They promised at 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 145 
 
 Venice to send on any letters arriving after my departure, and I suppose 
 they'll -pour in now I'm gone. In any case I sha'n't be very long after 
 my letters." 
 
 The Mont Cenis railway at this time could only have been partially 
 available for traffic of any kind, as the tunnel was not formally opened 
 till some three years later. Walker crossed by diligence ; wrote again 
 from St. Michel; and arrived in London on June 11, after a holiday 
 full of new experiences. 
 
 In the following week, he and his mother went to Goring for about 
 a month ; staying, by arrangement, in Mr. Heywood Hardy's house 
 near the bridge. It was here he began the water colour, hilies — a lady 
 watering a border of flowers, where the old white lily is the conspicuous 
 feature — and made a sketch for a large oil picture, to which reference 
 will be made later on. From Goring he paid a flying visit to Crowcombe, 
 in expectation of finding Mr. North there ; but in this he was dis- 
 appointed. Before long, however, another visit was arranged, and on 
 August 3, he wrote to Mr. North : — 
 
 "With your letter this morning, there came one from the friend 
 whom I mentioned. He went off to Boulogne on Saturday, as I told him 
 I could not on any account leave town before Tuesday, when we were to 
 meet at Paddington. He tells me that he finds Boulogne so jolly, and 
 himself so much better, as to wish to remain there. Perhaps it is as well, 
 for he is no angler ; and sketching, to the mere spectator, is not exciting. 
 Now I am bent upon going to you, but I certainly, in doing so, rely 
 upon getting a little trout-fishing ; and perhaps, as there is no necessity 
 for starting on my friend's account, and as I must be back on Saturday in 
 order to keep a promised visit with my sister to Birket Foster, it would 
 be better to arrange, say, for next week. 1 know that good fishing is not 
 easily had, unless you know the owners ; and perhaps a little time and 
 care would secure me that which I could not get by rushing down at 
 once, with rod and fly-book. If by chance a letter were to come from you 
 to-morrow morning, saying that you'd managed it, I might rush off at 
 once, and in that case would telegraph from Paddington. But after all, 
 as there is much for me to get through this week, perhaps a little 
 delay would be better. So, like a good fellow, think over any of the 
 jolly little bits that one might put on paper when you've shown them, 
 and tell me if my writing to any one would help me to the fishing." 
 
 From the above it will be seen, that in going to Somersetshire, 
 Walker had fishing, quite as much as work, in view. It was only when 
 the place grew on him, that he decided to take up his quarters there for 
 a time, and begin serious work. In a subsequent letter to Sir John 
 Millais, he wrote : — 
 
 " I came here, as I thought, on a * flying visit,' but the place is so 
 completely lovely, and there's so much paintable material, that I expect to 
 remain until quite the end of the month." 
 
146 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 After a day or two spent at Mr. W. Agnew's house at Pendleton, 
 near Manchester, he went to Crowcombe on August 13, and next day 
 wrote to his mother as follows : — 
 
 " Here I am, and feeling well and happy. But, as usual, my arrival 
 was unfortunate ; for though I had telegraphed from Bristol, there was no 
 one at the little railway station here, to bring the message up, so on my 
 arrival I found the telegram I'd sent, but no North to receive me ; and 
 as I was then tired of my journey, and as it was just dark, I was by no 
 means pleased, and expressed myself pretty strongly to the fellow at the 
 station, who actually wished to know if I would take the telegram up 
 with me — make myself the receiver as well as the sender of it ! I mean 
 to have a little talk with the stationmaster, who had no right to leave 
 the station with only one man there. However, I left my portmanteau 
 there, and secured a man to guide me through the dark lanes. Of course 
 •poor North was very disgusted. He had net received the letter I wrote 
 from Manchester [it came this morning], but he had been down to meet all 
 the likely trains, as he expected I might arrive yesterday. I got here while 
 a ' harvest home ' was in full swing ; and after supper, took my cigar and 
 glass into the old kitchen. Of course the singing and dancing were 
 primitive enough ; and though they kept it up till past one, I never 
 heard them, for the old place is large, and I slept like a top. To-day is 
 lovely: fresh as early spring. N. and I took a stroll after breakfast, to 
 see the beautiful bits close at hand ; and then we took ponies and rode 
 to Sir W. Trevelyan's agent, who said all that was necessary, and ratified 
 Sir W.'s permission ; but, alas, the stream is a mere brook, and though 
 there are fish, they are small, and throwing the fly would be a mere farce. 
 I am very savage ; but we are going directly to inquire if it be possible 
 to get permission for the river Exe, which is sixteen or seventeen miles 
 off, and which is notoriously good, but strictly preserved. If our intelli- 
 gence is satisfactory, we shall go on Sunday, and perhaps North may 
 leave me there ; but if we find it impossible, I perhaps will leave for town 
 on Monday. I shall do a bit of work before I leave, and must go at it 
 hard when I get back to my old dears ; but a week here would do me no 
 harm, I'm sure, and old North is glad to have me. . . . You would like 
 this place, dear. It stands very high, and the breeze is most strangely 
 fresh, giving one that strange half sad feeling of having felt it before, in 
 some more blissful state. The heather is very beautiful, and some of the 
 foxgloves are not yet gone." 
 
 August 16. — "North and I have just come from a ride over the 
 wonderful hills, and have just had a cup of tea. He reminded me that it 
 would be no saving of time to write yesterday, so I do it now. I have 
 been half wavering in my mind as to going home, or staying and working 
 here until next month — I mean until we go to Scotland. The place is 
 full of beautiful bits, and seems to agree with me perfectly. We are 
 going this evening to see something very jolly. There is a wonderful 
 
i868 FREDERICK WALKER 147 
 
 little church, and a strange old cross in the churchyard [which might do 
 for the background of that picture, if I lose no time], which we are going 
 to see to-day. The fishing is a perfect failure ; I have given up the idea. 
 We went for an hour or two last evening, but the brook — for it is no- 
 thing more, though we were told that, much lower down than where we 
 went, we should find it much better — the brook is so buried in bushes 
 and things, as to make throwing the fly an impossibility. I took one 
 trout, however, that was not worth while carrying home, so put him back 
 again. As for the other river I mentioned, it is too far off, and rather 
 too late in the season for this part of the world. So now, if I stay — and 
 North persuades me strongly — it will be only for work. This morning 
 I did a little to the bee-hive subject ; a woman came with a baby, and 
 is coming to-morrow. Indeed, it is easy enough to get models, for 
 North is known to them all. What do you say } Shall I stay and do my 
 best here, or get back to you as soon as possible .^ I sometimes want 
 very much to get back ; and an hour afterwards, I see something that 
 might be done, and feel it a sin to leave the place. This evening 
 will decide me rather more 1 think ; anyhow I shall not leave to- 
 morrow Write, dear, to-morrow, and tell me if you'd rather 
 
 have me return — that is, if you think I'll do more good by returning 
 or remaining. If the latter, pack up the oil colours and brushes I had 
 at Goring ; they are in a rush basket, are they not '^. But I'll write 
 again to-morrow, for I know what you'll say, ' only I can decide ' ; and 
 a few days will suffice, I think, for whatever background I do in oils," 
 
 The bee-hive subject — a woman with a child in her arms, and a boy 
 standing by, looking at some bee-hives — was begun at Beddington earlier 
 in the year : the bee-hives were, in fact, altogether taken from those 
 at the cottage. This was one of Walker's unexhibited works, and was 
 shown for the first time at the exhibition of 1876. Reference will be 
 made later on to the subject of the oil picture of which he speaks. 
 
 August 1 8 : — " Will you at once send all the colours and brushes, 
 together with some benzole and turpentine .? — the latter is in a bottle on 
 my studio mantelpiece, but the benzole you will have to buy. I am 
 going to have a go at the background of the picture, as soon as it gets 
 fine again. This has been an awful day ; it has not ceased raining since 
 yesterday morning ; and you will be disgusted to hear that the parcel 
 containing the thick boots and macintoshes has not arrived .... I 
 have arranged with Mrs. Thorne, the farmer-^jj, to stay on here in the 
 same way as North. She said that of course she would be very happy, if 
 I would but take things ' in the rough,' so that's all right, and I think it 
 as well to stay on, for I shall do more work here. I have been working 
 indoors on the bee-hive subject, from the figures, and am all agog for 
 other work, directly the weather clears up, and just now it seems inclined 
 that way ; the distant landscape from these windows shows itself for the 
 first time to-day. My bedroom is as big as a chapel, with a sort of 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 LIFE AND LErrERS OF 
 
 CHAP. ]X 
 
 vaulted ceiling, and whitewashed rafters ; and though the rats scuttle about 
 overhead, I sleep soundly enough, and have a good appetite, and manage 
 a good breakfast even. . . . Old North is very nice — quiet and con- 
 siderate in small things ; which is to me very refreshing. There is a 
 feeling of repose about this place, which I enjoy after the eternal ' doing 
 the civil ' of late." 
 
 August 19 : — "Another soaking day — never left oiF once ! Never 
 mind, I'm getting on with the bee-hives, and am now going to write to 
 Agnew about it. . . . The paints and other things have arrived safely ; 
 many thanks for the thoughtful kindness. I see that dear Fan addressed 
 it, so suppose you both had a hand in it. . . . I'm only afraid this rain 
 will produce great floods in Scotland, and drive the salmon down into 
 the sea. North and I went out this afternoon for a sharp walk, well 
 wrapped up, and with his great sketching umbrella. The stupid little 
 
 
 ■^'M-'j-'^^*^-^ V 
 
 trout stream is now quite a river. We picked some beautiful mushrooms 
 coming back, which I carried home in my cap. I am taking great care 
 of myself, especially changing my boots, &c. North would make me, if 
 I didn't of my own accord." 
 
 August 21, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " Just had a cup of tea, and before going out again, write a line, for I 
 sha'n't be back until dusk. I am just beginning the ' Mushroom Gatherers,' 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 149 
 
 a little subject I've long thought of doing ; and when I've got it well 
 under way, I go at the background of the picture [the canvas of which 
 has arrived], and you'll be surprised to know that the subject is not the 
 Stoke one, but the subject that Mummy has on her bedroom mantelpiece. 
 
 It is to my mind a better subject than the other ; rather less morbid, and 
 with all the best part of it — I mean all the solemnity that such a thing well 
 carried out could have. North has a proof of it, and he thinks it beyond 
 comparison better than the other. The canvas is 3 feet 8 inches high. 
 I've made one or two little mistakes since I've been here. A little water 
 colour I began yesterday, I was obliged to destroy, because the paper was 
 so impossibly bad." 
 
 The Stoke subject was, I believe, the old one of a boy looking at a man 
 digging a grave, which was destined to crop up again still later, and yet was 
 
150 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 never carried out. The " less morbid " subject consisted of three figures 
 in Puritan costume — an old clergyman holding a boy's hand, and offering 
 words of comfort to him, and to the little sister who clings to his arm ; 
 the scene being laid in a churchyard — and was taken from a wood drawing 
 done some time before for Mr. Whymper, which appeared in a publication 
 of The Religious Tract Society, called English Sacred Poetry of the 
 Olden Time. Both these subjects, however, had to make way for The 
 Old Gate., soon to be begun. The mention of the " impossibly bad " 
 paper is worthy of notice. Mr. North tells me that, at this time, he 
 and Walker often discussed the possibility of some plan whereby water- 
 colour painters could obtain a paper that should be practically imperish- 
 able, and in every way fit for their work ; and that the scheme, having 
 this for its object, which he has lately been engaged in perfecting, owes 
 its inception to these conversations. 
 
 August 23, to his mother ; — 
 
 " I began a little letter to you last evening, forgetting that it was 
 Saturday, and that you could not get it until to-morrow, so I threw it in 
 the fire, for there was but time to write the merest scribble. First I 
 must tell you that the parcel has been recovered ! North and I yester- 
 day made up our minds to go to Taunton, for two reasons ; to give 
 the station people a passing bully, and then to buy some thick boots ; 
 but on getting down to our little station. North came on the platform 
 with the startling intelligence. Of course I was very glad, for it made a 
 fresh pair of boots unnecessary, knowing that my jolly thick ones were in 
 the parcel ; but I went on to Taunton with North, who bought his. We 
 came back at about three ; and by that time, the rain, which had been 
 falling all the morning, and the wind gradually rising, had increased to a 
 perfect hurricane ; and to top all, when we got back to Stogumber 
 station, there was no vehicle to carry us up. So I undid the parcel in 
 the station, and donned my complete suit of waterproof, put on the 
 boots, and defied the elements. How glad I was to have the things ! 
 Poor North, of course, got drenched through in no time, and some ot 
 the steep narrow lanes, when it does come down as it has lately, are 
 converted into rapid streams ; but I arrived here ' dry as a toast,' though 
 at one time we had to go through water almost over the tops of our 
 boots. I wanted North to share some of my waterproof, or wear my 
 fishing stockings, but he wouldn't. He was very angry at the mistake 
 of the people here not sending the cart or something ; however, we had 
 some tea with a ' teaspoonful of brandy ' in it, and were soon jolly again, 
 and I began a little study of some mushrooms on some moss \a la Hunt], 
 which I have nearly finished, and the evening concluded with flute, smoke, 
 and talk. . . . This morning was truly lovely ; fresh and bright. We 
 went for a ramble through some of the glorious sloping meadows, 
 to get two or three more mushrooms to go on with. I feel mush- 
 
i868 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 151 
 
152 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 room mad. Some of them are lovely, and at dusk they gleam 
 among the dark grass like stars. We propose getting up at dawn 
 to-morrow, in order that I may get on with my ' Mushroom Gatherers,' 
 which I think will be a success. I have had a sketching umbrella sent 
 from town. I think I have been rather too apt to rough it in my open 
 air work ; painting through difficulties, to my disadvantage." 
 
 The mushroom study was the well-known Mushrooms and Fungi, 
 of which Mr. Ruskin wrote : — " It entirely beats my dear old William 
 Hunt in the simplicity of its execution, and rivals him in the subtlest 
 truth." 
 
 Mr. North tells me that Walker " almost worshipped the beautiful 
 colour and texture of the mushroom. Many evenings in the ' dimse,' we 
 have been out in the pouring rain, in macintoshes and fishing boots, 
 getting hats full. I well remember the exact spot where we collected the 
 other fungi [not the mushrooms] which he painted in that perfect water 
 colour study." 
 
 August iG : — " . . . Some time to-morrow, a small cartload of 
 mushrooms will arrive in a basket or hamper. Some, and indeed the 
 best, plucked by our own Royal hands, some by Lord North's, and the 
 rest by our retainers. I think there will be a change in the weather ; 
 everything in the distance is very distinct, and the wind is changing. 
 North thinks my ' Mushroom Gatherers ' promises to be a great success — 
 thinks the compo., &c., original ; so that's all right. I've nearly finished 
 the little study of mushrooms, too, which I suppose Agnew or Gambart 
 will have. I had hoped to finish the bee-hives, before this, but have had 
 to alter parts. However, it's almost done now. The meadows look a 
 most lovely green, and everything looks most jolly. I cannot tell when 
 any time passed more smoothly, and if my work requires it, shall return 
 here immediately on coming from Scotland." 
 
 September i : — " ... At ' letter writing time ' yesterday, North and 
 I went to that little stream. A long walk to get to it, but there was 
 much bustle and noise here, in consequence of the farm being ' valued,' 
 so work was pretty well interrupted. So we thought we'd 'loaf; 
 though North made a sketch when we got there, and I managed to take 
 three small trout, which we have just eaten for breakfast. We walked 
 back in the splendid moonlight, and I felt half sorry that I must so 
 soon leave ; but no doubt I ought to come here immediately after my 
 holiday, and get on with the oil picture." 
 
 The same date, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 " I shall be leaving this to-morrow, and so though late, I keep to my 
 word about writing to you. I don't know how it is, but I seem to have 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 153 
 
 done a most awful lot of writing ; always to some one or other in the 
 afternoon, after a great stuffy dinner, to which I usually do justice I can 
 tell you. . . . 
 
 " The above is a faithful representation of this dear old house, 
 only I cannot give you its jolly old crumbly, aged look. It nestles 
 on a hill side that on the top is covered with heather, and from 
 which you can see the sea. The man who really owns the place .... 
 takes possession at Christmas, and I suppose if he ever gets enough 
 money to do it, he will proceed to make it into a ' modern residence.' 
 There are queer old gargoyles at the corners of the towers ; one is a 
 devil holding a man under him, and apparently biting off the back of 
 his head. There is of course a lawn in front, and then lower, a large 
 neglected garden that once contained fishponds ; and then again, the 
 remains of the big gate — the stone sides, with what were once crests on 
 the top. A cardinal once lived in it ; Beaufort, I think. My bedroom 
 is that with the large bow window, and is about the size of a smallish 
 chapel. No end of live stock ; three dogs who very soon made friends 
 with me, and one of them, a sandy one with a wiry coat, always ' drops 
 in ' at meal times, and the others very often. Three little pigs, too, 
 roam the place in perfect happiness, the happiness that each day's work 
 well done [stuffing without ceasing from morn till eve] can give. This 
 morning on the lawn, one of the dogs was crunching some nameless mess 
 or other, and the pigs soon heard the delightful sound, and came running 
 up, and without exaggeration stood just as I've drawn 'em, watching for 
 
 ^^^:J' 
 
 ''-Roses Breakfast.^' 
 
154 LIFE AND LErTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 any accidental bit ; the dog every now and then giving a snap at 
 them. ... As for my work, I finished, and to-day send ofF, the * Bee- 
 hives ' ; have commenced a large water colour of * Mushroom Gatherers ' ; 
 nearly finished a small study [a la Hunt] of mushrooms, &c. ; and 
 have laid all in train for going on with my oil picture when I come 
 back. . . . Write to me soon, dear, and I'll reply. I hope you appreciate 
 my sending the sketch. Those pigs are so tame, they run to me as I sit 
 on the step, and take pieces of apple from my hand." 
 
 From the above description of the place, the reader will rightly 
 conjecture that Walker was indebted to Halsway Court for the idea of 
 The Old Gate. His forebodings as to the future of the house were to 
 some extent realised, as the house has since been largely altered, and the 
 gate is gone. 
 
 A few days after his return to town. Walker, his mother, and sister 
 Fanny left for Scotland, where they were the guests of Mr. Ansdell, at 
 Corrichoillie. During his stay there. Walker went for a short visit to 
 Mr. W. Graham, at Pitlochrie, Perthshire, for some fishing. Writing 
 from there on September 13, he first mentions Stobhall, which was next 
 year to be the scene of the water colour drawing of A Lady in a Garden., 
 Perthshire., of which Mr. Graham became the possessor. 
 
 By the end of September, Walker was back again in London ; and 
 about the middle of October paid the visit to Freshwater, which Mrs. 
 Richmond Ritchie mentions on page 96. Before leaving town, he 
 completed the wood drawing for her story From an Island., which 
 appeared in the November number of the Cornhill. This, and an illus- 
 tration to a story by another hand, in the March number, represented his 
 work on wood for the year. 
 
 Two days after his arrival at Freshwater, Walker wrote to his 
 mother, October 15 : — 
 
 " I hope you received the telegram, and that it didn't alarm you. 
 The fact is we all went yesterday for a picnic to Carisbrooke Castle, and 
 I was in hopes of being back in time to write, but it was not to be. 
 The day was a tremendous success, every one jolly ; one of those things 
 done on the spur of the moment. I got here at about 10.30 on 
 Tuesday night, after a detestable drive in the cold from Ryde. I had to 
 change horses at Newport, or I don't think I'd have got here at all. . . . 
 Miss Thackeray is going to take me to-morrow morning to see Tennyson. 
 The day is lowering, and now it's beginning to rain ; but we all went 
 this morning to the beacon on the glorious blowy downs." 
 
 October 1 6 : — " I shall perhaps stay until Monday morning, as 
 to-morrow I shall be able to do a rose tree in Graham's water colour, 
 from Tennyson's garden. We have all been to see him, and he has been 
 most kind. I am very comfortable and well, but have had no letters as 
 yet. 
 
1 868 FREDERICK WALKER i^S 
 
 The water colour referred to was Lilies ; which by this time had 
 been bought by Mr. Graham. 
 
 October i8 : — "The letters this morning came all of a heap, and 
 made me almost feel that I had been doing wrong ; first in coming here, 
 and secondly in staying so long. Indeed, for a time, I heartily wished I 
 had gone on Friday, and I should perhaps have escaped some of the 
 prickings of conscience which I have felt, and which this morning's 
 letters did not tend to allay. However, I start to-morrow early enough, 
 and shall for some time do my best, I suppose either in ' pot boilers,' or 
 something else. Meanwhile I must be content with the powers that 
 have been given me to work as much as I can, and when I cannot feel 
 equal to work, I must still make up my mind to rest, debts or no debts. 
 One thing I am sure of ; that my work is not likely to suffer in point 
 of refinement, from what I have experienced in my idleness here." 
 
 From Freshwater, Walker went direct to Crowcombe. He wrote 
 from Taunton, October 19 : — 
 
 " While I'm waiting for the Crowcombe train, I write this, as I find 
 I shall not have time when I get there. It's now 5, and the post leaves 
 Halsway at 6. . . . Yesterday was horribly cold at Freshwater, but 
 bright. I walked to the celebrated beacon, and made a sketch for a 
 drawing for the story, as I find Miss Thackeray is obliged to carry it to 
 another number of the magazine, if not two numbers, and of course I 
 shall be asked to make more drawings. Tennyson was very jolly. We 
 had tea there, and next day he came to see Miss Thackerav and me, and 
 saw my water colour, &c., then we went for another walk. . . . I'm 
 afraid my letter wasn't written in the best of spirits yesterday, and I 
 was rather annoyed at having to break off, but the man goes to the post 
 earlier on Sundays, or some such rubbish." 
 
 The story. From an Island^ was carried to the December number of 
 the Cornhill^ but appeared without an illustration. 
 
 October 20, from Halsway Court : — 
 
 " Here I am again, as though I'd never been away, and have laid out 
 everything for the battle, though actual work we haven't done to-day, 
 either of us. I telegraphed from Salisbury yesterday to old North, who 
 was waiting with the vehicle at the station. . . . The day here has been 
 most lovely, nothing has changed yet. The trees for the most part are 
 green and thick, and plenty of roses are out ; altogether it's more like 
 spring than anything. We went to look at my background this morn- 
 ing, and I am delighted with it, and eager for the fray. I've written to 
 that Eatwell for another canvas, more colours, &c., meanwhile I must 
 do my best to finish off Graham's water colour, and send the little 
 mushroom study to Agnew. . . . You must not mind if I stay here a 
 
156 
 
 LIFE JND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 longish time, for the work I intend doing is no joke, and if you feel at 
 all uncomfortable at being alone, you must come to me^ that's all." 
 
 October 21, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "... I'm waiting for another canvas and some colours, and am 
 looking forward to the new picture with much pleasure, and it's not the 
 one I spoke of, though I mean to do that too, but it's more truly 
 
 original, I think, and the background is splendid I don't know 
 
 about doing another Cornhill ; I don't see how I'm to do it here at all. 
 .... Everything is lovely about here. As I was going to my work, I 
 started a fine cock-pheasant quite close to me ; it reminded me of the 
 black game we saw coming home on the coach. My best love to dear 
 Mummy. I quite know all the old dear feels for me while I'm away, 
 and hope I appreciate it." 
 
 To make clear the above allusion to "■' the new picture," it must be 
 explained that, though not completed till the spring of 1870, The Plough 
 was thus early in Walker's thoughts, and was the picture referred to. 
 For the background of this picture, the hut, shortly to be mentioned, 
 was put up. " The one I spoke of" was The Old Gate^ exhibited at the 
 Royal Academy in 1869. 
 
 October 22, to his mother : — 
 
 " Fan's letter was just too late for the post. North and I ran down 
 to meet the mail cart, and half way down the lane, we heard him pass on 
 
 The Evening's Excitement at Halsway. " Yes — -No — can it be? Yes, it is the Mail Cart!" 
 
i868 FREDERICK WALKER isi 
 
 the main road at the bottom. We ran like mad, and whistled ditto, but 
 he never stopped, and in a * winded ' condition, we heard the sound of 
 wheels die away." 
 
 October 25 : — " . . . I've all but finished the mushroom study — 
 made a very different thing of it ; enlarged it, and introduced some 
 very good bits, and North thinks it a great success. The water 
 colour of Graham's that gave me such trouble, I've done all but the 
 figure, and I've taken out the lower part of it, for it was strained, and 
 not up to the rest of the figure. I've rubbed in an oil background, 
 which promises everything, and old North seems to be astonished at my 
 going ahead so." 
 
 October 27 : — " ... I won't tell you the subject of my work just 
 now, dear. I fancy that the picture loses some of its freshness with me, 
 when I have been trying to describe it much." 
 
 October 28 : — " No news, all right and jolly, work going on well. 
 Send us a something to read. . . . We went for a tremendous walk last 
 evening. Went to the sea, and back over the hill tops in the moonlight, 
 and got home late, and pretty well tired." 
 
 October 29 : — " ... I ought to have sent off my mushrooms before 
 this ; it is all but ready, but I've been too much engrossed with the other. I 
 wish Fan would let me have the skirt and petticoat I used for the girl in 
 the garden. A filthy nuisance, but I am glad I took it out, for I should 
 never have been comfortable otherwise. I shall be truly glad when I get 
 it away ; must turn to it in a few days. The other work goes on as well 
 as possible." 
 
 November i : — " ... I have been trying to-day to finish the study, 
 and shall send it off, I hope, to-morrow evening, and shall be glad enough 
 to be rid of it. Shall send it to our winter Exhibition. ... A shock 
 of earthquake was reported to be felt here Friday night, 10.30, though 
 N. and I, who were sitting up, never felt it, but Mrs. Thorne says she 
 did, and I believe it's rubbish. We have a chirping mouse running 
 about the place, who performs * like a bird ' every evening. North and 
 I rush out for a rapid walk usually after breakfast, and also after dinner ; 
 otherwise I believe we should swell up with eating, drinking, and work." 
 
 November 1 : — " I write a line now, as North and I are going at four 
 o'clock to Taunton, for one or two things. I shall try to get some red 
 fire to burn on the top of the hill behind this. We take down to the 
 station at the same time the mushroom study, &c. ; I'm going to offer 
 it to Agnew. . . . The slight shock of earthquake, which North and I 
 •did not feel, appears to have been noticed everywhere. How we missed 
 feeling it I don't know, as we were sitting up, smoking and reading. 
 . . . It's very windy here to-day, and impossible to do anything outside 
 on a canvas. Wish little Martin were here, and I'd finish Graham's 
 
158 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 water colour at once. Well, I've no news. Everything here is showing 
 signs of the coming winter, and I shall have to work away." 
 
 November 5 :■ — " All right. I don't mean to blow myself up with 
 rockets, though we begin directly, for we've just had dinner. . . . I'm 
 making arrangements to have a sort of shed or hut, built of boards, for 
 the background of my great go. This will keep me dry, and from the 
 wind ; and as it's in a field, I can easily get the owner's permission, who 
 is ' only too proud.' No dear, you are mistaken. Up to this time, 
 Minerva has been the only ' attraction ' here ; and I have often wished 
 that there were some other, and less stern goddess, to worship. The day 
 has been fine, but cold ; and my work chiefly indoors, finishing Graham's 
 water colour. Do not blame me for carrying it as far as I can. Work 
 carried to the furthest, must always tell to the credit of the doer. We 
 went last night to a village near this, called Bicknoller, where live some 
 decent people of Mrs. Thome's connection, and made them happy by 
 sitting and smoking by their fireside. They have come up this evening 
 to witness the fireworks, such as they are. ... I plucked these violets 
 in our garden, an hour or so ago, in the most beautiful amber and grey 
 evening. The sun always sets more or less opposite the old place, and 
 the eff^ect generally, in this fine pure air, is such as to be seen, not described. 
 I don't think you're well, or you would have written more, or given a 
 reason for not doing so ; but of course it's only to be expected that we 
 should fidget about each other while we're apart." 
 
 At the Exhibition of the Manchester Royal Institution this year, 
 there was a ^50 prize offered for the best oil picture ; and after consulta- 
 tion with Mr. Agnew, Walker's Vagrants had been sent. The picture, . 
 however, failed to secure the prize, which was awarded to Mason's 
 Evening Hymn. On receiving news of this decision Walker wrote to his 
 mother : — 
 
 November 1 3 : — " The enclosed will better explain itself. Cannot be 
 helped I suppose, and I cannot feel angry, for the picture it mentions I 
 have the most unbounded admiration for. I did not know it was at 
 Manchester. Two days, and no letter from home ! . . . To-day is very 
 still, and a dark grey. Yes, I must ask Graham for more money, or give 
 him the option of having something else. I shall hear from him, I expect, 
 to-morrow or next day ; but he will see at once how different it is. Poor 
 old North sits and stares at it. . . . The carpenter came yesterday about 
 my wood hut, and I shall be in it directly it's ready." 
 
 November 15 : — "Just come in from a smart walk to Woolstone 
 Moor, where my " [sketch of hut] " is going to be placed ; it's in hand 
 now, and meanwhile I go on with my other work. I had a nice little 
 letter from Graham yesterday, saying by all means exhibit his water 
 colour. He will be in town in a fortnight, ' and can see it then.' I feel 
 half inclined to come up for a day or so, if only to meet him. To- 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 159 
 
 morrow the water colour goes off to the Gallery, and Agnew and Gambart 
 have promised to send my others down to the same place, properly 
 framed, &c., so you see I need not be in town to superintend everything. 
 Still very cold here, though bright, and I suppose healthy ; but the wind 
 will keep in the one [infernal] quarter, and rob everything of half its 
 lovely colour." 
 
 November 20 : — " Will you send me the volumes of * The Ladies' 
 Monthly Magazine ' '^. I want to look at some of the dresses. Send 'em 
 at once. Have had to work indoors to-day ; a shocking day, cheerless- 
 and altogether abominable ; but I don't mind as I am getting on with 
 work. ... I wish I'd got some more music. I'd give anything to be 
 getting up ' Don Giovanni ' for instance. You see I've only my exercises, 
 and I'm heartily sick of 'em. I never told you what a comfort the 
 tobacco pouch was, and is. Before that I used to have miserable screws 
 in paper, for of course I forgot my pouch in my hurry. We are going 
 to-night to have a pipe with a nice old farmer, who has been much in 
 America, &c. He has a great coarse white beard, and staring little 
 bloodshot eyes, and always rides a thundering good horse, and altogether 
 looks like a backwoodsman. Tell us what you think of my work at the 
 Gallery, and what's said — whether it looks well, &c. I mean to astonish 
 'em before long, I can tell you." 
 
 Walker's exhibits at the Old Water Colour Society consisted of LilieSy. 
 The Gondola, and Mushrooms and Fungi, and were a decided success. It 
 will suffice to quote from one writer, who found that : " Mr. Walker's 
 compositions produce that unmistakable impression, and take that strong 
 hold on the memory, which are reserved for work revealing the in- 
 describable quality which, for want of a better word, is called ' genius.' '* 
 Of the two first-named drawings, the same writer said : *' It is im- 
 possible to convey in words the charm of either of these drawings, but 
 a man must be strangely insensible to grace, beauty, and truth, who does 
 not feel their delightfulness." 
 
 It may be mentioned that at the sale of Mr, Graham's collection. 
 Lilies — I2f in. by 17J in. — sold for ^1,365. 
 
 November 22 : — "Just a line to say how glad I am that my things at 
 the Gallery looked a success. I wish when you write you'd tell me if 
 you noticed the little ticket * sold ' in the corner of each. I recollected 
 yesterday to my great alarm, that I omitted to write * sold ' on the papers 
 of the Society, and of course could only expect that they would be regarded 
 by Thomas as for sale. I only thought of it at one o'clock yesterday, and 
 immediately telegraphed to Thomas. I expect it hadn't arrived at the 
 Gallery when you were there, and if the tickets were on them I shall 
 know that it was taken for granted that they were already sold. It might 
 lead to no end of bother, any one having, as he thought, bought one of 
 
i6o 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 'em, and insist upon sticking to it. Yesterday the wind changed at last. 
 It was warm and beautiful, but it has brought up deluges of rain to-day. 
 North and I have been down to the station for the books ; they had 
 arrived all safe. Many thanks to Fan for doing 'em up so nicely, and 
 many thanks for the ' Illustrated ' and ' Punch.' I think you will see me 
 towards the end of the week, if but for a couple of days. I suppose I 
 shall hear more about yesterday ; shall be glad to know of any critique 
 that appears. We have just had tea, and of course I am up a tree with 
 my letters. There never seems any time for anything with me. I have 
 worked as usual to-day, and am only too savage that the daylight is so 
 short." 
 
 November 24, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " I've just struck work, and as old North hasn't yet come in [he's 
 working on the hills] , I've had the lamp brought in, and so can finish off 
 
 T/ie Hon. Alember. 
 
 your letter before dinner. I shall certainly be home by Saturday, though 
 I fear I shall not be up in time to go to the meeting at our Gallery, but 
 cannot tell until I see the time table. If I am in time, I shall certainly 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER i6i 
 
 go, so you'll have to ' excuse me ' for an hour or two. I mean work now, 
 and nothing but it. As for the Gallery, I rather expected the Lilies 
 would come out strong in a way, and I am anxious to see it and the buyer. 
 All right about the ticket * sold ' on the things. I'm sure that Foster 
 having conferred with Thomas, meant that they were regarded as sold, 
 and that the tickets were on them, but it gave me quite a turn when I 
 thought of it, and five minutes after, Mrs. Thome's son was galloping 
 down to the station with my telegram. You see I did not like a crew of 
 dealers and buyers to think that I'd sent three unsold things to our Gallery, 
 even for five minutes. The Bee-hives, Agnew could not let me have. . . . 
 I said in my letter to Foster, that I could answer for myself, that it was a 
 pleasure to think of going to him at any season, &c., but that as far as 
 you were concerned I could not say positively, as I knew you'd like to be 
 with my mother ; meaning that if you or I go, the Missus goes with us. 
 I think, with you, we must be together ; but I do not see why we should 
 invite melancholy for our guest, by staying at the Burgh. . . . The last 
 day or two here have been beautiful ; the colour most refined, and more 
 sweet than words or brush can express, and the young moon already makes 
 after dinner walking a pleasure. Old North came in perished. At my 
 advice he has left a water colour that has nearly worn him out, and begun 
 another for the time. Well, I've nothing more to say. Nothing takes 
 place here, and there's no variety, scarcely, after work hours. . . . North 
 and I are very glad Graham's in ; our politics go as far as that ! " 
 
 A day or so after this. Walker went to town for a week, and on his 
 return wrote the letter to his mother now about to be given. This letter 
 is printed only after much consideration, arising from a fear lest it should 
 be strained in support of inferences at variance with the truth. Its sup- 
 pression, however, would not only be inconsistent with the spirit in which 
 this work has been undertaken, but would deprive the reader of assistance 
 in forming his estimate of Walker's character. Nor, if taken in good 
 faith, is there any reason why it should be suppressed. Of at least two 
 members of the household, it is true that their nervously susceptible 
 temperaments did act and react on one another in a detrimental manner ; 
 but it would be most untrue to infer that they lived a life of strife in 
 consequence. Far from this having been the case, their affection for one 
 another increased as the years went by. In looking back, it seems to me 
 that much to which Walker alludes is traceable to the effect of his brother 
 John's death. That this deepened the shadows in his mother's life there 
 is no doubt — my memory recalls no other change. 
 
 As the omission of any part of the letter might give rise to miscon- 
 struction, it is here given at full length : — 
 
 " Halsway, Sunday^ December 6, '68. 
 
 " My Dearest Mummy, — I half expected to find a line from you on 
 the breakfast table — I don't know why, but I thought from the rather 
 gloomy departure that a line would follow. I should have sent one from 
 
 M 
 
1 62 LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, ix 
 
 Taunton while waiting for the Stogumbsr train, but that it would not 
 reach you sooner than this. It strikes me that we are a lot of sillies^ and 
 don't know when we're well off — wanting everything at once — part of the 
 general temperament, I fear. I was soon comfortable in the train, and by 
 the time we were passing Goring, the sky was beautiful, and a sort of 
 golden promise about everything. At Taunton, old North was on the 
 platform looking out for me ; he'd taken the opportunity of going to buy 
 a macintosh, a revolver, &c., and was evidently glad to see my 'mug' 
 again. It was starlight and fine, and the drive from the station helped to 
 make me enjoy the warm fire and hot supper waiting for us. I soon went 
 to bed, for I felt very sleepy, slept till nearly ten, and came down to 
 breakfast fresh and quite rested. North and I were soon deep in work 
 when we met, and he urges me not to let my ' great go ' get stale by 
 leaving it entirely alone — work the smaller picture for the R. Academy, 
 he says, by all means, but lay in foundation for the large one, and keep 
 the mind well on it. The wood house is ready for me, and I shall take 
 his advice. The smaller picture looks promising in its state, and to-morrow 
 I bang away at it. It's a pouring wet day, but with our waterproofs on 
 we're going out directly to look at some material [for my present picture] 
 which North thinks better than some which I have been making do. 
 We've had a consultation over the picture, and I do not see why it should 
 not be a great success, I must ask you to send the big canvas at once ; 
 it is much better I find than the one I have here. Let any carpenter put 
 a light lid to the case ; explain to him that there must be room enough 
 to enable me to carry the picture wet^ that is with corks at the corners. 
 
 Better not employ R , he's such a fool ; let whoever does it take it to 
 
 Paddington. 
 
 " We have been for our walk, and had tea. We made a long round 
 of it, and went to see the beautiful background for the large picture. 
 The wood house is not on the ground yet, but I expect the carpenter has 
 it ready to put together. The air is fresh and fine, and in spite of the 
 splashing rain, I have enjoyed to-day. It does not rain now, and I only 
 hope to-morrow will be pretty dry. 
 
 " As for yesterday, and indeed other times, I more and more think 
 that being too much together is bad for such nervous tempers as ours. 
 The uncontrollable irritability at trifles often strikes me as startling, on 
 my first going home after a long stay with people, where such a thing 
 cannot be indulged in, for if it were, one would either quickly be put down, 
 or looked upon as mad. It is terribly infectious, and to one like myself, 
 such infection is unnecessary, for I am worse than any one, Heaven 
 knows. For the rest, I think with you, that it is our duty to look 
 forward, and that only. Fan will tell you that I have already (in what 
 perhaps to her appeared a brutal way) urged the necessity of only looking 
 forward ; for with our tempers any reflection or brooding means at once 
 sinking into a slough of misery. Exertion of any kind, but especially 
 away from the house, is the best antidote. One of the worst things is to 
 regard any particular time or occasion as necessarily doleful, for any 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 163 
 
 special reason — you quite know what I mean — for doing so means 
 unfitting ourselves for the very work in hand, and we all have plenty to 
 do, if we care to do it. This reads very like sermonising, I expect, but 
 you know, dear, that I am preaching to myself almost entirely in writing 
 this, and will indeed try to carry out the advice in your letter this morning. 
 I will write, if all's well, to Fan to-morrow. At present there's scarcely 
 time to get this posted, so I must break off. Best love to both, from 
 their own, * 
 
 "Fred." 
 
 The letter to his sister was written on December 8th. After speaking 
 of her visiting various friends, Walker continues : — 
 
 " Only leave them early ; I don't think you're up to that sort of 
 thing quite enough. I recollect some one says, that at any * evening 
 out,' there is a kind of culminating moment, and happy the he or she 
 who leaves then. By that you may understand a thousand things ; for 
 instance, just as you've made a good impression, or crushed an enemy 
 publicly, or feel that you're looking least tired, &c., &c. * Going out ' 
 is frightfully hard work at any time, especially for one who hasn't ^^ 20,000, 
 or who isn't an accomplished Adonis. This is horrible, but true. I 
 shall be with you soon, and there's a long season to come. I don't think 
 you keep or make friends enough ; pray what constant bosom friend 
 have you .'' It seems to me that you don't take pains enough, and are not 
 tolerant of other people's faults — bothering, galling faults I mean, and 
 every one has them. How is it you never called on Mrs. — , and only know 
 
 that she's in town through me ? Or , or any of those who seem to 
 
 have been kindly disposed towards you. This may seem like a * nagging ' 
 lesson perhaps, but I know from hard experience, that people don't give 
 something for nothing ; and to be courted, or anything more than just 
 tolerated, one must be either clever, or have great taste, or something 
 that shall make the sight of one's face a pleasure. Any one who hasn't 
 a constant friend, is always liable to hours, evenings, afternoons, of ennui 
 — that is if one is not content with the most neutral domestic kind of 
 enjoyment, and must * go out ' for pleasure." 
 
 With reference to the mention of the large canvas, in the letter of 
 December 6th, it may be said that the canvas on which The Old Gate had 
 been begun was not that on which it was completed. It had been begun 
 on a smaller canvas, and this canvas, Mr. North tells me. Walker took 
 with him on one of his journeys to town. While there, he copied some 
 of the work on to a larger canvas, which may very well be that referred 
 to in the letter. Mr. North considers that portions of the original — 
 noticeably some of the ivy, which had been painted direct from nature 
 — are better than in the completed picture. The original canvas was in an 
 advanced stage ; five out of the eight figures (though differently placed) 
 being much more than indicated. This canvas, measuring 36 by 50 ins., 
 against. 54 by 66 of the finished picture, was among the works sold at 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, ix 
 
 Christie's, after Walker's death, and has lately found a home in the City 
 of Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery. 
 
 December lo : — " . . . Enclosed is a sketch of one of the hand- 
 maidens. She has a strange waddle, which I fancy I've managed, and 
 always seems to come into the room headforemost. No news ; work 
 going on well in spite of the high wind." 
 
 " The young ^ooman who broke my flute — and said she didii^t." 
 
 On the same date, to myself : — 
 
 "... I've had to send my flute up to town to be mended ; one of 
 the springs broken (servant, of course), but I shall have it to-morrow I 
 expect. I am improving, I think, especially in tone ; while here, I 
 seldom practise anything but exercises. We are going to spend the 
 Christmas at Birket Foster's, as perhaps you know. I am not quite 
 certain about the Mamma, though I want her to go very much ; there'll 
 be so much going on, that she won't have time to be desponding, I'm 
 working away on my oil picture ; I have not even divulged the subject 
 yet. It's not a large one, and not much subject, but I hope to make it 
 worthy. I am about to begin a six-footer though, that I hope to have 
 in hand during the most of next year. Do you ever have time to look 
 into our Gallery .^ I can always give you admission, you know, and 
 catalogue, if that's any inducement. I hear tremendous accounts of the 
 new Academy — one room 80 feet long, and all large — twelve of them. 
 
1868 FREDERICK WALKER 165 
 
 The ' line ' done away with ; I mean its exclusiveness ; each picture, 
 whether by R. A. or not, to be hung according to its merit. Floors of 
 parquetry, flowers up the staircase, &c., &c. I made a descent upon the 
 clique the other day when I went up to town. Your brother was 
 working hard at his frieze for the new theatre, and seemed very cheery, 
 so did the others. North here is doing capital work (water colour), he 
 is most sincere over it, each inch wrought with gem-like care. I hope 
 he'll get into our Society this time ; if his health is spared, I believe he'll 
 do important things. Well, I've no news, you may be sure. One day 
 here is very like another ; the place is full of beauties, but we never 
 go for walks (except on Sundays) until it's dark, for the working hours 
 are short enough just now. The place agrees with me, and so, between 
 ourselves, do the regular hours and simple fare." 
 
 December 1 1, to his mother : — 
 
 " All right about the revolver ; be sure my eyes and hands are as 
 valuable to me as to any one. My reason for sending for it is, that it 
 may not be (to me) dangerous, />., that I may know how to use it. We 
 
 had some practice with it this morning, and it seemed a success 
 
 We went last night in the starlight, and had a look at my grand " 
 (sketch of hut). " I am longing to begin, and have to-day, after lunch, 
 prepared the large canvas with a fine foundation of white. ... I should 
 like to give a supper to the farm people, before I leave for Christmas ; 
 could it be done with reason, do you think ? Could a basket of things be 
 sent } I mean things we don't get here, including some bottled beer, and 
 not fowls, rabbits, or bacon." 
 
 December 13 : — " ... I am very disgusted with the weather of the 
 last two days ; yesterday was odious ; the work I did was indoors ; did 
 not go out at all, and to-day is as bad. Added to this, the railway 
 ruffians are detaining my flute somewhere. It was sent from Boosey's on 
 Friday evening ; North and I are going down to slang them. They 
 nave a knack of leaving the things at Crowcombe Heathfield station, 
 although they have long known better ; there it waits until one of the 
 brutes feels inclined to bring it, and charge for bringing it, and the fools 
 here pay of course. I think I shall take a return ticket and come up on 
 Wednesday. I have been feeling rather bored, and impatient with 
 everything. People I write to don't answer — John, for instance, though 
 I merely wrote for the name of a song. People are quick enough in 
 applying for anything they may want. As for the supper, think no more 
 about it, a supply of drink which can be got here would be more 
 welcome, I fancy. The other they would not appreciate, and so North 
 thinks. ... I should think from the character of the day here, that with 
 you it was scarcely to be dignified by the name. Impossible not to be 
 influenced by it." 
 
 December 1 5 : — " I shall leave this to-morrow by same train as last. 
 
1 66 LIFE AND LET'TERS OF F. WALKER chap, ix 
 
 taking a return ticket most likely. . . . The picture looks capital, and I 
 am in good spirits once more. All news when you see me." 
 
 Here, with his spirits recovered for a time, the letters of 1868 come 
 to an end, and this chapter can be closed. The year had been a 
 memorable one in several ways. It had brought his brother's death, the 
 visit to Venice, and the first of those sojournings in Somersetshire, which 
 were to be continued at intervals till the spring of 1875. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 1869. 
 
 The opening of the new year found Walker at the house of Mr. 
 Sartoris, Titchfield, Hants, on his way to Halsway, where Mrs. Thome's 
 tenancy was now coming to an end. He reached Halsway on January 5, 
 and was soon at work again on The Old Gate. On January 7, he wrote 
 to his mother : — 
 
 " No news to-day, save that work is going on capitally. . . . The 
 weather is splendid for work, calm and grey ; and so warm that a great 
 coat is scarcely necessary. I am delighted with my visit to the Sartoris's 
 — sent a little note to Mrs. S. last evening, to tell her of my safe 
 arrival, &c. . . . Mrs. Thorne does not leave this until Monday, instead 
 of Friday, so I have a chance of doing most of my work on the 
 background before the man comes in. . . , I have worked like an engine 
 to-day, so want a walk." 
 
 Both Walker and Mr. North intended following Mrs. Thorne to her 
 new home ; but the bustle of moving was not at all to Walker's liking, 
 and on January 1 1, he was back again in London. 
 
 January 1 2, to his sister Fanny at Brighton : — 
 
 "... The train I was to have come by yesterday was the express, 
 reaching town at six. But the Stogumber train ran ofFthe line, to my great 
 fright. Fortunately we were going slowly up an incline rather, but were 
 dragged with a broken wheel half-a-mile. 1 had to assist certain ladies 
 and children, and while the precious engine had gone for assistance, we 
 all had to get on in the cold as best we could. Eventually we were 
 carried to Taunton in a truck, luggage and all, and by that time, the 
 express had long since left Taunton ; so instead of six, I did not get here 
 till past ten. I shall go back on Thursday I expect, and the address will 
 then be : Woolstone Moor, Williton, W, Somerset ; so we saw the last 
 of Halsway, as a home, yesterday." 
 
 The house at Woolstone Moor may still be seen, though it too is 
 altered. It is the first on the left-hand side as you enter the village after 
 
1 68 LIFE JND LErTERS OF chap, x 
 
 crossing the railway bridge in coming from Halsway. In Walker's time 
 it was a long, low, stone house with a thatched roof. Since then, the walls 
 have been heightened, a double gabled roof and bow-window added, and 
 the front enclosed with iron pailings. It was from this house Walker 
 went out to his work on 'The Old Gate^ The Plough^ Mushroom Gatherers^ 
 and The Right of Way. Here he waited for news from home, eagerly 
 scanned the weather, blew at his flute, communed with his friend, and 
 generally lived the quiet life he so well describes. The following 
 interesting note supplied by Mr. North is a fitting introduction to these 
 times : — 
 
 " Walker painted direct from nature, not from sketches. His ideal 
 appeared to be to have suggestiveness in his work ; not by leaving out, 
 but by painting in, detail, and then partly erasing it. This was especially 
 noticeable in his water colour landscape work, which frequently passed 
 through a stage of extreme elaboration of drawing, to be afterwards carefully 
 worn away, so that a suggestiveness and softness resulted — not emptiness, 
 but veiled detail. His knowledge of nature was sufficient to disgust him 
 with the ordinary conventions which do duty for grass, leaves, and boughs ; 
 and there is scarcely an inch of his work that has not been at one time a 
 careful, loving study of fact. Every conscientious landscape painter will 
 recognise in all Walker's landscape the clear evidence of direct work from 
 nature. No trouble was excessive, no distance too great, if through trouble 
 and travel some part of the picture might be better done. He never 
 thought * he could do better without nature,' or that ' nature put him 
 out.' 
 
 " Pictorial art is a translation of a poem in the language of nature, 
 which cannot be written in words. A delight in this unwritten language 
 must belong to every fine painter — 
 
 To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. 
 
 " It was rarely that a title for his picture pleased him ; in consequence 
 his titles are of the simplest — Spring., Autumn., Bathers., The Plough^ A 
 Fishmonger s Shop. One exception, and that a very happy one, is The 
 Harbour of Refuge., a title suggested by Mr. Clayton, 
 
 " Perhaps the ambitious determination to excel in art was excessive in 
 Walker, perhaps he had some intuition of the short time granted him, 
 and so was impatient of partial failure. Certainly he was not content 
 with his work unless it had suggestiveness, finish, and an appearance of 
 ease ; and to the latter I sorrowfully feel that he gave rather too much 
 weight, destroying many a lovely piece of earnest, sweetest work, because 
 it did not appear to have been done without labour. Probably this 
 excessive sensitiveness (to what is after all of minor importance) may 
 have been due to a reaction from the somewhat unnatural clearness of 
 definition in the early pictures of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. 
 
 " Walker could use, and did use, his left hand equally with the right, 
 
1869 FREDERICK WALKER 169 
 
 and often worked with both hands on a picture at the same moment ; as 
 a rule, the left hand (which was the stronger) held a knife or razor, the 
 right the brush. I think he would have missed his knife or razor more 
 than his brush, had he lost either. The uncertain character of the paper 
 led Walker into excessive use of Chinese white in his earlier water colours. 
 This use of white he gradually diminished, until in some of his later 
 work in water colours there is scarcely a trace, and that trace only 
 existing because of some defect in the paper. 
 
 " In his oil pictures he used benzine or turpentine very freely, except 
 with colours or mediums. He was not fastidious as to appliances ; 
 anything would do for an easel, and for maulstick a rough stick of 
 timber about 8 feet long, weighing about 20 lbs., was used, resting one 
 end on the ground, the other on the top of the canvas. This answered 
 two purposes ; its weight steadying the canvas, and its firmness giving 
 real support to the wrist when (rarely indeed) Walker felt the need of 
 such help. Painting in this rough and ready way, with no protection 
 from wind, it was often more easy to work on a large canvas with it 
 lying flat on the ground, and much of The Plough and other big 
 pictures, was painted in this way. 
 
 " With a dark sealskin cap ; a thick woollen comforter — his mother's 
 or sister's work ; a thick, dark overcoat ; long, yellow washleather leggings ; 
 /ery neat, thick, Bond Street shooting boots ; painting cloths sticking out 
 of pockets ; two or three pet brushes and a great oval wooden palette in 
 one hand, and a common labourer's rush basket with colours and bottles, 
 brushes and razors, tumbled in indiscriminately, in the other ; * little Mr. 
 Walker,' as the country people called him, was a type of energy. 
 Sometimes I have known him manage to carry his large canvas on his 
 head at the same time that his hands were employed as described, on 
 occasion when, after having been kept indoors by the weather until quite 
 late in the afternoon, his usual attendant help chanced to be momentarily 
 absent." 
 
 Many were the letters that were to be written from Woolstone Moor. 
 The first is to his mother, then at Brighton. 
 
 January 17 : — "All right, dearest ; got here safely, and am quite 
 rested to-day. The place is most lovely ; far, far finer than Halsway, 
 and the background for my big picture has been looking prime. 
 What a day it has been too ! The primroses are out here, and the birds 
 have been singing just as they do in summer. Great daisies turn their 
 faces to the sun, and as we stood at dusk, a great beetle ' winged his 
 drony flight ' past us. Fancy, January 1 7 ! North was, as you may be 
 sure, very glad to see my face. We both go up to Halsway to our 
 respective work to-morrow morning, and I hope to finish there this next 
 week, and much of the picture I can do here — some trees, &c., are even 
 better." 
 
 January 18 : — " . . . Yesterday was so balmy, and everything so 
 
I70 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 lovely, I made sure you must all be enjoying it. ... I found the picture 
 looking all right, and have done well on it to-day. . . . Oh this place ! 
 as North and I saw it last evening ; most lovely." 
 
 January 20 : — " ... I find myself so easily bored here to-day and 
 yesterday ; am almost tired of North's blameless company even. Would 
 like to get on a horse, and ride to the devil — so you see the kind of mind 
 I'm in at this moment. Suppose you are well as can be expected, and 
 suppose they are all enjoying themselves or trying to. Lovely weather 
 here still, or I should go up to town for the figures of my picture. Shall 
 be going for our evening's walk, so no more at present." 
 
 Same date, later: — "All right, old lady; am comfortable again. 
 Been for a long walk in the jolly moonlight. All's going on well, I 
 think, though 1 am feeling very much away from every one. Shall try 
 hard again to-morrow, for there's nothing like it. Hope from my heart 
 that you are made pretty comfortable. There's much to be thankful 
 for, and not the least [for me] that I am feeling healthilv tired, and ready 
 for sound sleep." 
 
 January 11 : — " Your note and Fan's, also the music, just arrived. 
 The latter, I fear, would be of more use to Fan than to me, I forgot 
 there is no one who could help me through some of the duets ; and I 
 think that not being able to hear or play over the things helps to make 
 me feel this solitude rather the more. Well, perhaps I shall look back 
 on this healthy, simple way of living with gratitude, for healthful it is ; 
 I was only just saying so to North. . . . We drive [usually] after break- 
 fast to Halsway in a gig, with sandwiches and small flask of sherry in 
 pocket ; am always ready for the sandwiches [which in town I could not 
 eat] by one o'clock, take half the sherry, get a cup of tea at a cottage 
 close by, at two, then at it again till five, when North makes his appear- 
 ance. I then pack up, finish the sherry, and we perhaps walk home — did 
 yesterday — or drive back in the dusk. Kind old Mrs. Thorne waits on 
 us at dinner, and we wait for the letters, which come, if at all, about six. 
 .... Do not mind an occasional growl from me, dear. I am lucky in 
 having you to growl to, let alone everything else ; and in all other 
 moments I know a blessing will follow me and my endeavours, if I * keep 
 my chin up,' and do my best. . . . This morning I had a letter from a 
 
 Miss , with many crests and apologies, asking me if I'd teach her to 
 
 paint ; that she'd give me no trouble, &c,, would be content to watch me 
 at it, &c. ! ! ! " 
 
 January 24 : — " ... I shall finish at Halsway to-morrow, then go 
 on hereabouts till the end of the week. I bought last evening a beautiful 
 electrical machine, of an idiot at Williton, who is a cabinetmaker, and 
 was going to cut up the case in which it stands. It is a disc machine, 
 and is worth, I should say, ^^15 or more. I gave 37J". for it. So one of 
 the youthful ambitions has been realised ! The case is the height of a 
 
1869 FREDERICK WALKER 171 
 
 table. Very cold, but bright to-day. The poor primroses will all be 
 killed, I fear." 
 
 January 30, to his youngest sister : — 
 
 " I just take the opportunity of sending a line, while I'm eating 
 my sandwiches in a cottage belonging to a nice old woman. I bring 
 myself in when the wind's too abominable, and my fingers too 
 numbed. She makes me a cup of tea, and I sit and drink it over 
 her wood fire, and it's heavenly, not the finest wine can equal it. I 
 bring my tea and sugar in my pocket, in the morning when I drive 
 down [fancy me driving a shaggy horse and gig], and leave it in screws 
 of paper on the table, if she's out in the fields. Poor old woman, 
 deserted years ago by a brute of a husband, living alone now with her cat 
 — a subdued kind of animal, who is bothering me now for a bit of bread 
 or ham. The old woman can sometimes earn the noble sum of 8^. a day, 
 by driving in hurdles, &c. She asked me if I'd got an old great coat I 
 could spare her, and I think I have. I leave my picture in her cottage, for 
 it's about three miles from Woolstone ; but I finish work here to-day, I 
 think. On Monday, I try to work from a very beautiful tree at Wool- 
 stone ; and, please Heaven, on Tuesday, I go up to town, to whack into 
 the figures. There are strawberry blossoms under the hedges already, 
 and any number of primroses ; and some days so warm, that it's difficult 
 to believe that it's this miserable month. Yesterday was too much 
 though, and I gave it up at 3. I thought my arrangement of thatched 
 hurdles, in which I work, would have gone to smithereens with me and 
 the picture, although it's rather a knowing contrivance, and not only 
 protects me from the wind, but makes it impossible for any idiot to come 
 and bother me. , . . There's an awfully jolly little book, that you can 
 put down or take up at any time — lovely writing — by Holmes, an 
 American [strangely]. It's called *The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table,' 
 you get it ; it reminds faintly of Charles Lamb. I was one day telling 
 old Mrs. Thorne that I felt * low,' and she said, * Why don't you take a 
 little red lavender, sir.'' ' On inquiring what she meant, it appears to be 
 an old receipt for the blues, and for disorders of the stomach. Mrs. T. 
 said that her grandame had an affection of the stomach, always in pain, 
 and took it daily ; could never bear herself until she had taken her daily 
 dose — so many drops on lumps of sugar. I dare say any doctor would 
 sneer at it, but I wonder if it would do the Missus good. Well, dear, I 
 have filled the paper, and finished my tea, and must out again and 
 at it." 
 
 February i, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "Yours has just come — the only letter this evening, to my surprise — 
 so I write to you, and no one else, though I've little to say, more than 
 that I cannot get away to-morrow as I thought, and perhaps not on 
 Wednesday, though I shall try hard, but I find my precious picture wants 
 this, that, and t'other. To-day, or rather this afternoon (for the morn- 
 
172 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 ing was pouring wet, and I only worked a little indoors) I have been 
 putting in a most beautifully graceful tree, one of the most beautiful in 
 line I ever saw, though of course, as usual, it seems to look nothing on 
 canvas. I had all ' they ' hurdles, as folks here call 'em, brought away in 
 a cart from Halsway on Saturday evening, and put up again to-day in a 
 meadow. With them was my picture, and you may guess I felt nervous; 
 for a cart without springs, driven by a rough rustic, is not the most deli- 
 cate mode of transit. But it was all right, and if I can only finish it in 
 time for the R. A,, I know it will be a success. ... It has been terribly 
 showery, and with lots of lightning and thunder. I have had to be 
 content to work with my canvas covered with rain drops." 
 
 The next letter is to his mother, in reply to one from her, giving the 
 result of the election of two Associates to the Royal Academy, which took 
 place at this time ; Mr. E. J. Poynter and Mr. Geo. Mason being the 
 successful candidates. 
 
 February 3 : — " ... I cannot leave this until the day after to-mor- 
 row, or possibly Saturday. I am working as hard as I can, and as well, 
 and one gets out of one's calculations. This I know ; I'll put my foot 
 through my present work, before I let it go for less than a big sum. I 
 do not intend working at high pressure for nothing now, and if the result 
 does not come to me in one shape, by Heaven it shall in another, and 
 I've said it. Your news was just as I expected — as I told North, in fact, 
 and as I told you. Still it was news^ and I've just written a hot and 
 
 furious letter to — , for it is rather too bad that all my friends should 
 
 be such cowards, as to be unable to give me particulars of that which 
 concerns me so much ; by this I mean, if I went to the ballot, how many 
 votes, &:c. Pray never sympathise with me on that which must inevitably 
 form part of my life's struggles. That I am too young, I know well 
 enough ; and time will only show if I grow ever old enough. Only by a 
 strong hand, and as a matter of course, shall I ever obtain anything ; for 
 well enough I know that great luck will never be mine. The day has 
 been sublime, capital for work, so I am proportionately tired," 
 
 After this, Walker went to town to work on the figures of the pic- 
 ture. He returned to Woolstone on March 15, for a final struggle — 
 and struggle it indeed proved to be. 
 
 March 16 : — "All right, and well. Got here at about 6.30, had 
 dinner, took a walk, and to bed 10.30. This morning had a long 
 consultation with North over the picture, and it is already much better. 
 Shall stick to it hard." 
 
 March 19 : — "Work going on all right. Have found good models 
 too, and am very hopeful of getting it done. Have a good struggle 
 with it every day till dusk, and feel that it's gradually getting 'the 
 thing.' . . . Don't expect much writing from me ; am tired now 
 
1869 FREDERICK WALKER 173 
 
 having just left off. Have been working on the man in the corner. 
 Wind due W., and very gusty." 
 
 March 21 : — "All right. Don't expect much writing from me ; I 
 am trying to give all my energies to this picture, and it's a great 
 struggle. . . . The wind has changed again, I regret to say." 
 
 March 24 : — " All right ; work going on slowly, but well, in spite of 
 cold. Have no news. North goes up to town to-morrow, so I shall be 
 alone for the rest of the time. . . . When will this detestable wind 
 change } " 
 
 March 25 : — " .... North went up this morning, and I have con- 
 tinued the battle since, with all my might. Detachments of models 
 present themselves for my inspection, and if this dreadful wind would but 
 change, I should 'run in ' at a canter. As it is, I hope all will be well ; 
 there's yet time to ' run a coup.' I am quite well, dear, and hope you 
 two are bobbish. I must be home by about this day week. Am 
 writing this and eating dinner same time, in order to catch the mail 
 cart." 
 
 March 28, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " The weather .... seems to be reaching a sort of climax, for just 
 now [at dusk] it was snowing hard^ and so I hope for a change, but if it 
 does not come, I'm dished — I never can do it. Haven't been to Halsway 
 yet ; think of going to-morrow. Can you do me a service by going to 
 the London Stereoscope Co. [Regent St. for instance] near the Quadrant, 
 and get me a photo or two of dogs, such as might help me with the one 
 I'm painting. They publish some very fine things in the way of dogs, 
 and it is the one thing I might be helped in by a photo. My own people 
 should do it, but they don't know my idea of the animal as you do." 
 
 Same date, to his eldest sister : — 
 
 " . . . . The weather's as bad as can be, and seems to have come 
 to a climax. It's snowing hard, and I feel there must be a change, and if 
 so, I shall be all right ; but I fear that if there be no change, I never can 
 do enough to warrant sending. ... I go on doing my best in the bitter 
 weather, day by day, and really do not know if I am making a fool of 
 myself or no. Sometimes I am in despair, and could weep with 
 wretchedness, but never do, and then, generally, towards evening, I feel 
 comforted. . . . This will just be in time for the mail cart." 
 
 March 29, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just to say I'm still keeping up, though almost disheartened. Can- 
 not possibly say if it will be finished [it can never be finished^ in time, 
 but may be just passable. I am weary of hearing the cutting wind, and 
 looking out on the dirty drifting clouds. I woke at dawn, hoping for a 
 
174 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 change, but saw from my bed the clouds going in the one eternal direc- 
 tion. Have had a bad headache all day, but have worked [indoors] 
 pretty well. Do not possibly see how I can be home by Thursday, 
 though may possibly by a later train on Friday." 
 
 March 3 1 : — " I'm just off to Halsway, and as I don't return until 
 dusk, send off a line now. I am still hopeful, though unable to say how 
 things are going on. North came back last night — sent on a letter to 
 say he should, as he fancied he might be of use to me, and I'm not sorry. 
 I shall not be up before Friday night, perhaps come by the night mail 
 due at Paddington 4 in the morning. Must be up on Saturday for the 
 Water Colour election, so it will be a broken day, and should do no work 
 at all in that case. The things go to the Academy on Tuesday evening 
 next " [April 6], " not a fortnight hence as you suppose." 
 
 April 1: — "Send to Briggs, pay him his bill, ^^i, and get another 
 female lay figure, full size. If he hasn't one, Newman's, 23, Soho Square, 
 might let you have one, or tell you where. Let the lay figure be draped 
 in black, ready for me. I leave this to-morrow afternoon at about 4, and 
 shall be at Paddington at 1 1 something, and shall be * out of town ' to 
 every one save Millais, Graham, and Agnew. There's just a chance for me 
 I think. Send for Dick Turley — they will give you their present address at 
 the old one, 1 54, Seymour St., Euston Square — telegraph to him to come 
 on Sunday morning, and write to Emily Hayward, tell her to come on 
 Sunday morning to arrange with me. Her address is in the red book. 
 I've nothing more to say, I think." 
 
 And so, by a supreme effort. The Old Gate was despatched to the 
 Royal Academy. It is perhaps to be regretted that Walker was so often 
 behind time in his preparation for the Academy. To say nothing of the 
 effect of such a strain on himself, one is led to wonder whether work so 
 hurried had always reached that stage of development to which he might 
 possibly have brought it. On the other hand, however, had there been 
 no need to work against time, it is possible that some of the pictures we 
 know might have gone to swell the list of unfinished canvases. The 
 reader will learn without surprise, that Walker was again at work on The 
 Old Gate in the autumn. 
 
 Mr. North gives an old farmer's reminiscence of this picture as 
 follows : — " I remember Mr. Walker when he was down here with you 
 doing the old gate. What a way he was in if any one passed and tried 
 to look. Why he made nothing of taking up his picture and running 
 into the house with it. You know he got my missus to stand a bit, but 
 she nor I nor none of us never got a chance of a look at what he was a 
 drawing." 
 
 At the Old Water Colour election, Mr. North was again unsuccess- 
 ful, and on April 16, Walker wrote to him as follows : — 
 
e\ 
 
 
 o 
 
i869 FREDERICK WALKER 175 
 
 *' I fear you'll be wondering I never wrote. I began a little letter 
 one night, but was literally too tired to go on. Well, the hanging 
 is done, and a nice week's work it has been. I was at the 
 Gallery yesterday, and the men all came in, but didn't knock 
 me down and stamp on me, from which I * opine ' that we did 
 our duty. I'm going on Monday morning with Graham's brother 
 to some lovely trout fishing of his, in Hants ; not so good I dare- 
 say, as Sir A, Hood's, but still about the best in England with that 
 exception. We go for two or three days. We three dined together last 
 night, the M.P. having ' paired ' [whatever that may mean], and left ' the 
 House ' till 10, on purpose. I spent the Wednesday evening with them at 
 Grosvenor Place, and they were all very nice, especially the girls. This 
 evening I go to B. Foster's, till to-morrow night — went last Saturday — he 
 wants me to do a water colour for him. I hear my picture was ' admired 
 extremely ' by the Council, according to Leighton, who sent me a nice 
 little note to say so. He failed, however, to get me more than the one 
 varnishing day, which was what I desired. Graham said at dinner last 
 night, that the prospect of seeing the water colours I had been helping to 
 hang, was quite marred by the thought that you wei-e not to be seen 
 there, and spoke in a very jolly way of you. I never told you that at 
 the election, you had far more ' scratches ' [before the balloting came on] 
 than any one. . . . How about that scarf, and my cup and ball } You 
 can send 'em if you like, and anything else I may have forgotten. They 
 are rejecting tons of pictures at the R. A., I hear — I mean thousands — in- 
 cluding all of 's. I decided upon not sending anything to our 
 
 Gallery, and yesterday I told every one I was sorry ; I did not say 
 whether for them, or for myself" 
 
 The above mention of his cup and ball will recall to some readers 
 the scene in Mr. du Maurier's world-famous "Trilby^ where Walker is 
 represented as playing the game with Little Billee. Among some of the 
 members of the Clique at this time, there was quite a mania for cup and 
 ball, and Walker had taken the fever. It was held [with more or less 
 gravity] that in acquiring the dexterity necessary to bring the ball on the 
 pointed end of the stick, a delicacy of touch was gained, which was in- 
 valuable to the painter ! 
 
 Though unsuccessful at the Water Colour Society election, Mr. 
 North's works were fully appreciated by the Royal Academy, as the 
 following letter to him, dated April 25, will show : — 
 
 " I suppose you received my telegram of last evening. I did not 
 write, as I never heard of it till 7, and knowing you were anxious, I at 
 once took a cab to Paddington, and the particulars are these. I called 
 at Little Holland House, and while sitting with Watts, who was full of 
 the Academy, he said, a propos of the water colours in the Exhibition, 
 ' Do you know a Mr. North } ' Of course I at once told him how much 
 I knew of you and your work, and of the recent disgusting business at the 
 
176 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 W. Colour Gallery. He said, * Then I beg you'll tell him, that we, the 
 Council, President, and hangers, were unanimously charmed with his 
 work, and that they each are not only hung, but well hung.' He added 
 that he only wished he'd told me sooner, if you were anxious, for I was 
 with them at L. H. House a (&w evenings before. So that's all right, 
 stick to it ! I think I would as soon be appreciated by the Academy in its 
 present healthy tone, as by the W. Colour Society. The day before 
 yesterday, I had to dance attendance at the Gallery * in order to receive 
 some of the Royal Family.' By dancing attendance, I mean that, through 
 
 some hideous stupidity of 's, I was at the Gallery by ii — when the 
 
 Royal Family usually make their appearance — and they were, in this 
 case, not expected till 3, when they came — Duchess of Cambridge, Prince 
 and Princess Teck and suite. The Princess is very jolly, and I had her a 
 good deal to myself ! Both she and the Duchess asked if I'd been idlings 
 observing ' I'd nothing there.' I said ' No, I'd been working for the 
 Academy ' ; this too with F. Tayler, Callow, &c. standing near ! The 
 fishing of Graham's was delightful, and he was full of invitations to me 
 for the ensuing Scotch season. None of the fish ran large, but they were 
 in beautiful condition, and gave lots of sport. One day I took five brace. 
 When I saw the water, I expected to do very little, as it was all running 
 through chalk, and clear as crystal, requiring the very finest throwing and 
 tackle, a fly scarcely to be seen, and always fishing up stream, which is no 
 easy thing. The varnishing day at the R. A. is next Thursday. Watts says 
 that two full lengths of Archbishops have been kicked out with ignominy, 
 and that the slaughter generally has been frightful. I scarcely think I 
 ought to have written this, though, as it was perhaps the least bit in con- 
 fidence. Altogether, I don't think the number of pictures exhibited will 
 be much in excess of last year, and that speaks volumes. Watts says 
 you ought to be working in oils." 
 
 The Exhibition of the Royal Academy of this year was, as will have 
 been inferred, the first held in the present quarters at Burlington House. 
 The Old Gate was hung in Room 7. Though, as a matter of course, 
 opinions differed somewhat as to its merit, the criticism of Mr. Tom 
 Taylor in the Times^ from which I quote, expresses with sufficient 
 accuracy the verdict of the press. Mr. Taylor says : — 
 
 " The first thing that strikes one in connection with it, is the power 
 of arresting attention, and the art it shows, not of telling a story, which 
 is common enough, but of setting those who study it to make a story for 
 themselves, which is far rarer. . . . The composition is scattered, and the 
 figures are too few for the space they are set in ; and, finally, parts of the 
 picture, as the boy's figure behind the labourer, are manifestly unfinished. 
 In spite of these drawbacks, the picture remains one of the few deeply im- 
 pressed on the memory after leaving the Exhibition." It was, I think, a 
 not inapt remark of another critic, that the picture reminded him of a 
 novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
1869 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 177 
 
 N 
 
lyS LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, x 
 
 The Old Gate has been etched by Professor H. Herkomer, R.A., and 
 is now in the possession of A. E. Street, Esq. 
 
 Walker appears to have spent the months of May and June in town, 
 and there are consequently no letters to give a clue to the work on which 
 he was engaged. From other sources, however, I gather that it was about 
 this time he produced the water colour of Two Girls at a Fireside^ painted 
 at Witley from the daughters of Mr. Birket Foster, and the pen and ink 
 Vagrants^ shown at the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour 
 Society in 1870. The illustration to Miss Thackeray's story, Sola^ in the 
 Cornhill for July, would also have been prepared in June. This illus- 
 tration was the last for Miss Thackeray's writings, and also for the 
 magazines. Its subject was subsequently reproduced in a charming little 
 water colour, now in the possession of Mr. John Aird, M.P. Early in 
 June, too, there is a suggestion from Mr. Agnew, that Walker should 
 paint a water colour of Wayfarers ; and as the drawing appears to have 
 been finished by the middle of August, he would have been at work on it 
 •during this summer. 
 
 By the kindness of Mr. Swain, I am enabled to give in facsimile a 
 letter referring to the illustration to Sola. 
 
 Early in July, Walker went to Maidenhead on a visit to Mr. Leslie. 
 The following, dated July 12, is to Mr. North :- — 
 
 " .... At present I am up the Thames — have been there all last 
 week, and am going back to-night, with the intention of working next 
 week at Bray, I think. I want you to send my sketching umbrella and 
 the easel, directed to 6, Causeway Cottages, Maidenhead Bridge. I 
 have been fishing last week, and had very good sport altogether, but I 
 took no trout, which was my ambition, though I raised a very large one in 
 a weir. The heat here to-day is almost too much of a good thing, and 
 because it's blowing from the east, I fancy. I do not go to Scotland, I 
 think, until next month, and meanwhile I shall be glad of intelligence 
 from you, and let us know how your new ' material ' is getting on. Re- 
 member me to the good folk." 
 
 July 19, from Maidenhead, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line to say how much we enjoy the claret and chutnee. As 
 for the sweet little bouquet, it is Bayswater all over, and ten times more 
 precious than any made of Maidenhead blossom. The mignonette was 
 hanging its head, but the jasmine and the carnation all right, and to-day 
 they are all fresh as when picked. . . . This morning was grey and cool, 
 but it has since cleared up, and blazing hot again. Mr. Fletcher and a 
 nephew of Leslie's came last evening. The nephew is a middy, and had 
 only arrived from foreign parts on Saturday. We went with them to the 
 station to see them off, and moralised on all the Skindle folks, of whom 
 there were plenty yesterday. We enjoy them very much — the conceit 
 and general feeling that they are so splendid as to be beyond criticism. 
 Well, there's a rod in pickle for one part of the business, and I am 
 
J869 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 179 
 
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i8o LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
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1869 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 i«i 
 
 ^ 
 
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l82 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. X 
 
 eagerly awaiting a letter from the Punch people. Work goes on rather 
 slowly, the heat and blazing light being against it, but I am enjoying 
 myself very much, and getting as brown as a berry. Farewell, my 
 dear, I am ofF ; we are going down to Monkey Island to see what we 
 can do," 
 
 Captain Jinks of the "Selfish" and His Friends Enjoying Themselves 
 
 ON THE River. 
 
 The "rod in pickle" was the wood drawing which has already been 
 mentioned as appearing in Punch on August 21, 1869. Of the circum- 
 stances under which this drawing was produced, and of the visit to 
 Maidenhead generally, Mr. Leslie has given the following interesting 
 account in Our River : — 
 
 " Walker spent three or four weeks with me at Mrs, Copeland's ; we 
 usually punted down each day to Monkey Island, where there was the 
 great attraction to him of two or three trout to be seen ; he never 
 succeeded in taking any of these, though he caught many large chub. 
 There was one large trout seen daily, turning over and over just off the 
 shoal at the top of the island, and here Walker had his punt moored, and 
 commenced a very beautiful oil picture of a boy fishing. It was never 
 finished, and at his death I became the possessor of it ; though unfinished, 
 it is truth itself in the rendering of river effect. The clay cliff, with its 
 rat holes, is perfect, and the shimmer of moving water finely expressed ; 
 there is something quite pathetic, too, in the little phantom of a boy, so 
 like in sortie way to poor Walker himself, casting his line with much 
 
1 869 FREDERICK WALKER 183 . 
 
 grace and eagerness. I remember well how uncomfortably he worked on 
 this picture, which was propped up very insecurely in the boat, his tubes 
 of colour, rags, and benzine bottle, all contained in a punt scoop ; and as 
 he had forgotten his palette, he used a small bit of varnished wood, which 
 belonged as a backboard to my punt. He had his rod and line beside him, 
 stopping work many times to cast over the large trout's nose ; his boy 
 Collins waited on him as his slave, and had to stand barefoot in the water 
 whenever Walker wished. 
 
 " He had with him at that same time a large canvas with a com- 
 mencement of a Thames bank on it, done, 1 believe, at Streatley. On 
 this bank was a group of boys fishing ; the method with which this 
 picture was begun was very curious, and was one he was fond of at that 
 period ; the whole effect was laid in with the strongest yellow pigments — 
 aureoline, cadmium, lemon-yellow, and burnt sienna.^ So rich was the 
 effect, or ' fat ' as he called it, that a touch of black and white on it looked 
 quite blue by the contrast. On this picture he worked a little furtively, 
 in a small creek just below Monkey Island, putting in a lot of 
 beautifully-touched forget-me-nots and other bank flowers ; it was 
 never finished, and the canvas remained for some time at Mrs. Cope- 
 land's. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " In these days he would break off work continually to fish, and kept 
 his slave boy always ready to punt him about for that purpose. I altered 
 our dinner hour from seven to eight to suit his convenience ; but even 
 then he came home still later, and so we at length called it supper, and 
 had a cold repast instead of a hot one. He generally had caught two or 
 three large chub ; at supper, I remember working on his feelings about 
 the cruelty of fishing, which he defended very well indeed by the usual 
 arguments, but afterwards, he and I used to take a lantern, and go and 
 let all his fish have their liberty ; it was rather fun, as it is one thing to 
 hold a fish straight off the hook in an exhausted and drowning condition, 
 and quite another to catch him in your hands, when he has recovered his 
 strength, in the well of a punt. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Walker, as a fisherman, had the greatest dislike to the steam 
 launches, which at this time were becoming a rising nuisance, and it 
 was whilst with me that, stung with anger, he made his clever drawing for 
 * Punch,' entitled * Captain Jinks of the " Selfish," and his friends, enjoy- 
 ing themselves on the River.' He was most fastidious about this work, 
 rehearsing it many times before he was satisfied ; sometimes it would look 
 to him as though he had taken too much pains with it, and he carefully 
 endeavoured to give it an air of ease and carelessness. Then all the 
 ugliest and most disagreeable points about the affair had to be 
 emphasised : the boiler extra large and clumsy, the smoke, the swell, 
 the black-faced engineer, and the guests on board, with their backs to the 
 
 ^ (?) Raw sienna. 
 
i84 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, X 
 
 view, entirely wrapt up in their cigars and brandies and sodas. In render- 
 ing the distant landscape, the work becomes entirely tender and finished 
 — it is a beautiful little bit of Bray, with the church and poplars drawn 
 direct from nature ; a bridge is introduced, to prevent the scene being too 
 easily recognised. On the opposite bank is a portrait of myself, with 
 easel and picture upset by the steamer's swell ; this mishap had actually 
 occurred to me one day at Monkey Island. Walker watched daily the 
 embarkation of the boat he had selected for his satire, and I recollect him 
 lying on the till of my punt, taking keen mental notes of the appearance 
 of the captain of the craft ; it reminded me forcibly of a cat watching a 
 bird hopping about in unconscious ignorance. I was told that three copies 
 of ' Punch ' were sent to the steam-launch proprietor on the day of publica- 
 tion ; the likeness was very good, and indeed, every one up and down the 
 river knew it in a moment. This clever bit of satire had no effect, how- 
 ever, in abating the nuisance in any way, and must have fallen like water 
 on a duck's back." 
 
 F^v:^ 
 
 Design for "Captain Jinks." 
 
 At the time of first writing the above, Mr. Leslie had thought that 
 the Thames bank canvas with the group of boys had been painted over ; 
 but in a footnote he says he has since found that the picture is in 
 existence, and is that which has been entitled The Peaceful Thames. 
 His surmise that the picture was begun at Streatley is, I believe, 
 correct ; and if so, it may be assumed that the sketch for a large oil picture, 
 
i869 FREDERICK WALKER 185 
 
 mentioned on page 145, as having been made in June, 1868, was for this 
 subject. The picture is well known from the etching by Mr. Waltner. 
 After Walker's death, it came into the possession of Mr. Graham, and 
 was sold, with the rest of his collection, in 1886, realising the sum of 
 /1 1,2 1 8. It was stated from the rostrum, at the time of the sale, that 
 the picture had been worked on by Mr. North in water colour ; and 
 this is one of the instances where Walker's unfinished work has been 
 added to in an honourable and open manner. 
 
 To return to the letters. The last few days of this river trip 
 Walker spent at Monkey Island, and wrote from there on July 26 : — 
 
 " All right and jolly ; just had supper. George has a bed here 
 on the island, anyhow for to-night, I don't know about to-morrow 
 night though, as perhaps I shall let him go to Maidenhead, and then 
 he can call for any possible letters at Mrs. Copeland's, in the morning. 
 I did very little work when I got here ; it was getting late, and got dark 
 very soon. I thought we were going to have a pelting night of it, but 
 it passed off with a ^o.^ drops. I regret to say I lost another large fish, 
 and there was no mistake about its being a trout. I thought I'd have 
 an hour's fishing at seven, and we went steadily down for some time, till at 
 last we saw a great fellow tumble about like a salmon. We went down 
 cautiously, and I cast about the place where he rose, and about six yards 
 lower down he came at the fly and I hooked him ; but after a 
 tremendous flounder, showing his great yellow sides, he was ofl^ — unhooked 
 himself in fact — rather too bad when I try so carefully. I shall do my 
 hardest on my picture for the next three or four days. I find they have 
 to send over to Bray for letters, but you can, if you like, direct to me 
 here, as they are sure to be sending." 
 
 Walker's eff'orts to secure that coveted prize, a Thames trout, 
 eventually met with success, as he took a beautifully shaped fish o^ \\ lbs., 
 the following year, under Bisham woods. Of this fish, he had a cast 
 taken, which he intended to colour to the life ; but either the colour has 
 faded, or he never carried it beyond the preliminary stage. In connection 
 with this trout, Mr. Orchardson tells me that, in 1870, when Walker 
 came to stay with him in Venice, he remembers meeting Walker, and 
 ■steadying him as he stepped into the gondola, and how Walker, without 
 a *' How are you } " or a word of greeting, clutched his hand, and said, 
 " I've caught a 4 lb. trout ! " As at that time Mr. Orchardson was not 
 a fisherman, he was all the more impressed by Walker's enthusiasm. 
 
 July 29 : — " . . . The rain yesterday, and the high wind of to-day, 
 have put me back, though I have been getting forward with work, thank 
 Heaven. I have been dining with Calderon, Leslie, and Talfourd, at 
 Skindle's, at C.'s invitation, and they walked back with me, all very jolly. 
 Your letter came this morning all right. No news here of course. The place 
 looks very charming, and one feels almost sorry to think of moving, but 
 the comfort is that at least I shall work while in the North. The wind 
 
1 86 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 continues to rise, making me think of you all, for it seems to come from 
 your quarter, and you must be getting it pretty rough. Late last night, 
 George and the people here were out on the opposite bank, digging for 
 bait for barbel fishing, with lanthorns, by the light of the moon. I 
 pulled across after them, it was so picturesque. George appears to have 
 caught two fine barbel this evening, while I was away ; so that's the best 
 of the news. This morning was fresh and most lovely, before the wind 
 rose — with a light golden mist." 
 
 The work Walker intended doing in the North was the water colour 
 of A Lady in a Garden^ Perthshire^ painted, as already mentioned, at 
 Stobhall — at that time rented by Mr. Graham. He did not, however, 
 go there direct, and the first letter, after leaving town, is dated from 
 Drumour Lodge, Dunkeld, August 5 : — 
 
 " All right, and very comfortable, save that I know you'll have been 
 looking for a letter, long before you get this ; but the post leaves this at 
 8 in the morning, and afterwards, unless some one goes on purpose to 
 Dunkeld, it's all up. This is four miles from Dunkeld, all up hill. 
 Mrs. Graham's brother [Mr. Lowndes] was waiting for me at the station 
 with two spanking horses, and we drove away jolly. He was at the 
 station yesterday, too, for the letters don't get here until i o'clock, so 
 Mr. Graham didn't know until then that T was delayed. I'm sorry to 
 say that there hasn't been enough rain to swell the river here, so there's 
 not much chance of a salmon until it comes. The keeper sent up a 
 grilse of about 4 lbs., that they'd taken with the fly to-day ; but until we 
 have a day and night's rain, the fish will be at the river's mouth below 
 Perth, and nothing will bring 'em up. So I think that next week I shall 
 go up to the Ansdell's. Graham and I have this afternoon been fishing 
 in a stream that runs below this, something in the same way as theSpean 
 below Corrichoillie, only that it's smaller, though the hills on the 
 opposite side are grand and melancholy. We had very poor sport, and 
 to-morrow we are going up to the loch that feeds this stream, which is 
 called the Braan, and only contains trout. We three are the only swells 
 here — stuck up on a great wooded height, in a pretty ivy-grown house 
 with a pinnacled tower, and a verandah running all along the front, 
 supported by tree trunks with the rough knobs left. I got to Perth at 
 about 12 last night, and tumbled into bed at the hotel, tired enough. 
 Three old chaps got in at Preston, previous to which I had been alone 
 with the Times, Saturday Review, and Punch. The old chaps were very 
 jolly, and offered me big purple grapes and peaches ; but I'd been eating 
 your little grapes, and didn't feel much inclined for theirs. This place 
 is very beautiful ; the sweet banks with the long grass that's not yet 
 quite ripe — I mean no hay cut yet — and the dear old grey rocks, and old 
 blue hills with clouds halfway up them, and the same sound of the stream 
 (like Corrichoillie again) that one hears from one's bedroom window. 
 As we were coming from the fishing, we espied a lot of mushrooms, like 
 
1869 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 187 
 
 great pearls on the sloping bank. We gathered a lot, and they made 
 one of the dishes at dinner. I wish you were both up North here. 1 
 thought of you, and as I passed the great iron furnaces as you near 
 Glasgow, I declare it seemed but yesterday that I was telling you to look 
 out for them. The man has ransacked my portmanteau, and put 
 everything neatly into drawers and things, as though I were to stay here 
 
 The Metiibers Brother.'^ 
 
 a month. I left it open (after locking cheque-book and other things 
 into the hat-box), for I thought it nice, and even felt a pride that 
 my portmanteau was filled with such good things. Well, dear, I must 
 break off. W. Graham has not left town yet, 1 find, though I expect 
 he will be at Urrard by Sunday if I go over, as I think of doing. Good 
 night to both." 
 
 August 8 : — " I may as well begin a line or two for you now, 
 before lunch, though the letters have not come in yet. Mr. 
 Lowndes [Mrs. Graham's brother] has driven to Dunkeld to church, 
 and will bring them. Mr. Graham and I have been for a longish walk 
 in the fine fresh air. We went to look at some falls, very good, 
 reminded me of the Cour that runs into the Spean. To-morrow we go 
 
1 88 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, x 
 
 down to the Tay to do our best, and early on Tuesday morning, I go 
 first up to Urrard [Mrs. W, Graham is there with the girls, though Mr. 
 W. is not] on my way to the Ansdell's, which I hope to reach by the 
 coach from Kingussie, on Tuesday evening. The work which I propose 
 doing, I shall do when I leave the Ansdell's ; this for many reasons, but 
 chiefly because Mr. W. Graham will be here by that time, and can make 
 it comfortable for me if he chooses — he might give me room at Stobhall — 
 
 and then I expect the Tay will be in better condition for fishing 
 
 It is very peaceful and lovely up here, but I think a little hard work in 
 the way of clambering about the Tay rocks, or down the Spean all day, 
 will not come ill." 
 
 August 9 : — ■'■'■ I leave this to-morrow morning for Corrichoillie ; I 
 secured a letter from Mrs. A., at Dunkeld, as we were coming up from 
 the fishing. She has room for me, and the weather there appears to be 
 good for fishing. We had no sport to-day. I rose three fish, and lost a 
 fourth after a minute's play, and only succeeded in taking a good sea 
 trout. Mr. Graham did nothing. I made a point of going over the 
 garden at Stobhall, and it was very lovely, and I fully intend going at it 
 after a stay at the A.'s. ... I have this subject, and another which I can 
 commence at the Ansdell's. . . . Mr. G. here, and Mr. Lowndes, advise 
 me to write to W. Graham in time for him to make arrangements for the 
 Stobhall picture for me, and this I intend doing." 
 
 August II, from Corrichoillie : — 
 
 " Here safe and sound, and enjoying self. Been out, took one salmon, 
 and lost another. Ansdell took one, and lost three. Shall be on a very 
 good beat to-morrow, and expect sport. All here very kind, and just the 
 same. I did not come up to the house until about 1 1 last night instead 
 of 7.30. The coach broke down, and it's a wonder some of us weren't 
 smashed. The axle broke, providentially in the middle ; had it broken 
 close to the wheel, we should have overturned. As it was, we were kept 
 on the road till five in the evening, to my great disgust. However, I was 
 none the worse for it this morning. I shall commence a water colour on 
 Saturday, I think, and anyhow shall work at it on Sunday. Everything 
 looks lovely here, though it's chilly, and plenty of snow on Ben Nevis, 
 and some on another mountain." 
 
 August 18, to his sister Fanny • — 
 
 " The salmon, which I suppose has reached you by this, was one of 
 three which I took the day before yesterday ; that sent to you was 14 J, 
 the other two, 21 and 8. Yesterday I lost a tremendous fellow ; he 
 broke the hook [in his jawbone we think] after a violent fight. To-day 
 I am not fishing. Lord Abinger has the best beat, and I want to get on 
 with my work. I do not think I shall be here for more than a week — I 
 may leave on Monday next, even. I had another letter from W. Graham 
 
i869 FREDERICK IVALKER 189 
 
 last evening ; he can, he thinks, arrange for my stay for two or three 
 days at Stobhall." 
 
 August 29, from Urrard, Pitlochrie, to his mother : — ■ 
 
 " Here I am, and very comfortable. I left the A.'s on Friday 
 morning, early as usual, and got here at about 3. To my delight, there 
 was at the station Miss Graham, seeing off some friends who had been 
 staying here, and she told me that her father had been expecting me for 
 the whole week ; so, of course, there was some stupid mistake about the 
 letters, for, goodness knows, I should have been glad enough to come a 
 week ago. There are some nice people here. Two daughters of Kinnaird 
 the M.P., a Mr. Hardy, son of Gathorne Hardy the M.P., &:c. I think 
 I shall go to Stobhall to-morrow, and shall probably think of going 
 homewards in about a week from this. The letters had better be directed 
 to Stobhall, Stanley, Perthshire ; for though I may possibly be staying 
 at a ferryhouse belonging to one of the river keepers, where I can get 
 better food and drink than up at Stobhall, yet I shall be there each day. 
 No chance of more fishing ; the glass is high as ever, and the river 
 nowhere. . . . Graham has the * Vagrants ' and the * Lilies ' here ; he 
 seems to be unable to leave them behind him. He's very jolly." 
 
 September i, from Stobhall, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " Just before getting to work, I send off to you a few lines, as I owe 
 them, for ihe last you had from me was short indeed. The easel, &c., I 
 found at Stanley station all right, and yesterday I got to work. I am 
 not staying here exactly, but at a little ferryhouse near, because I can get 
 better served than here ; but I am here all day, and Graham and his friend 
 Hardy arrived last evening from Urrard, to shoot partridges to-day. So 
 I dined with them here last evening, and as Graham proposed fishing the 
 only place on the river worth fishing, early this morning, I have break- 
 fasted here with them. They have gone out, and I can hear their guns 
 banging away, so I suppose they are having sport. I left Urrard, Monday 
 afternoon. I was sorry to leave, but one cannot stick in one place for 
 ever ; besides, I shall get into a mess about work if I don't mind. . . . 
 You'd revel in this place. It has queer old turrets, and carved coronets 
 and dates on the arches, and the garden is the very perfection of peace and 
 loveliness. I hope I'll soon get forward with work, for 1 am rather want- 
 ing to get back to the ' nest ' again, I confess. I said I should start in 
 about a week, I thought, but I really cannot tell for certain. As for the 
 fishing, until there's rain, and plenty of it, it's all up. We didn't have a 
 rise, though '•jce rose before six, and were quite disgusted ; so we took to 
 fishing for Tay pearls, opening the fresh water mussels as we waded, but 
 our luck was not great. Graham got rather a large one, and I enclose 
 my spoils — we might have got more, but had to go in to breakfast. . . . 
 It's very fresh and cold here, mornings and evenings ; a hard frost on 
 Sunday night, killing off all dahlias, nasturtiums, and potato plants. I 
 
190 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. X 
 
 never saw such a wreck as at Urrard on Monday morning ; yet on Satur- 
 day, the heat was so great at mid-day, that a great mastiff, kept at the 
 coach houses, was found dead, as is supposed from sunstroke. ... I often 
 think it seems rather a shame that you and the Missus cannot see these jolly 
 places, because it certainly means change^ if not happiness. As for the 
 latter, I think that a certain medium supply of it is ' served out ' to every 
 one, in a way, if one can only see it ; that hunting for it brings it no 
 nearer. [Moral mem.] " 
 
 -ZAe ^ o Q Osca. r 
 
 Dif 
 
 f«h 
 
 September 2, to his mother : — 
 
 "... You ask if I am well, &c. Ot course i am, and never 
 better than when here in the North. I only wish I could afford to loaf 
 about here three months every year. Graham had a hamper containing 
 wine and good things prepared for me while I am here, and like a brick, 
 left a brace of partridges yesterday ; and with trout and all, you see I 
 am living on the fat o' the land. They make me a jolly cup of tea up 
 at the Hall, and a supply of sherry and biscuits is always at my com- 
 mand there. I am better here, than if I were altogether at the Hall, 
 because the people there are not exactly servants. The factor, or 
 manager, of the estate lives there ; and I fancy they do not care to 
 lodge anv one but just Graham himself, though they are very obliging, 
 and 1 had a letter from the said factor, hoping I would command him 
 
1869 FREDERICK WALKER 191 
 
 and the place in any way, &c. Here, the ferryman generally begins the 
 day by, * Eh, Sirr, ye have anither lovely marrning for that laborious 
 fishing,' or some joke of that kind, as he brings in my bath. The gude- 
 wife cooks admirably. After this, I am going to write a line to Mrs. 
 Gray, saying I am here, and that I will pass next Sunday at Perth, if 
 they can have me." 
 
 September 4 : — " I find, to my great disgust, that no letters are to be 
 had to-day, not even by sending up to the Post Office, so I must be 
 content to wait until to-morrow at noon, when I have them sent up to 
 Stobhall by a lad. I am getting on pretty well with work, thank 
 goodness ; I mean that I am satisfied with it so far. It will be a com- 
 panion to the ' Lilies,' and Graham asked me to let him see it, if possible, 
 before any one else. I said I would, at the same time mentioning that 
 Agnew, &c., had asked me specially for a subject of the kind. I think 
 I shall be quite finished by Wednesday evening, so I think you may 
 look for me by Thursday night, unless anything unforeseen should 
 happen — rain, for instance, enough to prevent work, and raise the river. 
 I understand there was a heavy shower early this morning, before I was 
 awake ; everything seems very fresh in consequence. ... I am going to 
 spend the afternoon at Perth. I had a letter from young Grav, saying 
 how pleased his mother would be to see me, if I would excuse an empty 
 house, all the rest being away at St. Andrews. . . . The sprigs of 
 jasmine I put in the glass containing my paint water, and lo, they 
 partly revived and are opening, and give forth perfume more precious 
 than all the Stobhall flowers put together." 
 
 September 7 : — " I found on Sunday, that no letters would be leaving 
 Stanley, so I took yours into Perth with me, but was too late for the 
 post, so then I knew you would not get it till to-day. Most annoying. 
 Thomas the ferryman here, like a true Scot, said something about the 
 * seventh day ' being a ' great blessing,' or something of the kind, and I 
 was nearly saying that, when away from every one, getting one's letters 
 on the ' Sawbath ' was also a great blessing ; but he would only have 
 thought I meant to be disagreeable. The fact is, I am beginning to find 
 this solitude oppressive, and shall not be sorry to leave, as there's still no 
 fishing to be done ; but I think you must make up your mind to do 
 without me till Saturday, as I have rather a wish to spend a day at 
 St. Andrews [which is on the coast, you know], where the Grays and 
 Millais are." 
 
 September 9, from St. Andrews : — 
 
 "All right. Have just arrived here, and just had lunch. They are 
 all most kind, and they want me to stay over to-morrow, and I feel half 
 inclined to do so. You'll say it's weak-minded, perhaps. There's a Ball 
 to-night, and they've taken a ticket for me ; and altogether I should, I 
 confess, like to stay a day or two here. So don't expect me on Saturday 
 
192 LIFE AND LETrERS OF chap, x 
 
 night, dear. I fear you'll be disappointed, but a day or two more won't 
 matter — I shall work all the better for it." 
 
 As Walker spent the next three weeks in town, there is no 
 record of the work [if any] on which he was engaged. Neither, 
 in the absence of any mention of the subject of the drawing begun 
 at Corrichoillie, can it be ascertained if this work was ever com- 
 pleted. The Stobhall drawing necessitated another visit to Perthshire ; 
 and on October 3, Walker was again at Perth, on his way to Stanley. 
 On October 4, he wrote from Stobhall : — 
 
 " The four fish I sent off just before dinner, went just sooner than I 
 expected, and so this letter, which I hoped to send with them, is of no 
 use — that is, I intended just suggesting that the fish should go to folks 
 in your name or mine, as trifling compliments. . . . The two large ones 
 are not in such good condition as I could wish ; indeed it's getting late, 
 and the fishing, you know, ends on Saturday. But the larger of the two 
 small ones is just fresh from the sea, and looked like ivory, as he 
 jumped and rushed. I hooked him from a rather difficult bank, after 
 just losing one which I played until he was spent, and then he got off, 
 because both the keepers were round the river bank in the boat, out of 
 sight, and I could not make them hear — most provoking. Altogether I 
 must have lost half a dozen fish to-day. The river is simply splendid— - 
 a sight for ' sore eyes,' I can tell you — as much as the two men could do, 
 both rowing hard, to keep the boat stationary. The day has been 
 glorious, and yesterday was jolly too ; the dear solemn garden here, 
 scarcely changed since I left it. Here there is a man who waits on me — 
 a lean old chap with grey whiskers — he plays the violin, and fell in love 
 with my flute, at once. I heard him just now, after dinner, playing a 
 reel in the distance ; and on complimenting him when he came up with 
 some seltzer just now, he ' ventured to ask me for A or B flat ' ! which 
 I gave him, and of course, he gave me the reel again on the spot. 
 Altogether I am very glad I came. After to-morrow, I shall do the 
 final work to my ' Perthshire Garden,' and make it much better, I'm 
 sure. . . . God bless all at home. I am sure I was right in coming here 
 now ; the work will lose nothing by it, I feel sure." 
 
 From this point, to the end of the year, there are, unfortunately, 
 many letters missing. Walker was at Woolstone Moor in November, 
 but for how long, and whether his stay extended into December, cannot 
 now be ascertained. In all probability, he was there the greater part of 
 both months ; for 'The Plough was the next important work on hand, and 
 would have taxed all his energies. It is interesting to find from a letter 
 of Mrs. Walker's, in December, that Walker was at that time attuning 
 his mind to the subject, by reading Thomson's Seasons and Bloomfield's 
 Farmer s Boy ; and one letter, fortunately preserved, shows in a striking 
 manner, how much his thoughts were concentrated on the picture. Of 
 the other work of this year, little more remains to be said. If the year 
 

 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 \^ 
 
1869 FREDERICK WALKER 193 
 
 1868 had been the most proUfic in exhibited work, the present year was 
 one of the most barren ; for the Stobhall drawing at the Winter 
 Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, and The Old Gate at the 
 Royal Academy, were the only two exhibits in 1869. The Stobhall 
 drawing was exhibited under the title already given — viz. A Lady in a 
 Garden^ Perthshire ; and the fact that at the sale of the Graham collec- 
 tion it was catalogued as Stobhall Garden^ has led at least one critic into 
 the error of supposing there were two distinct drawings. Though 
 painted as a companion to Lilies, this drawing was appraised at the sale 
 at the sum of £s^7^ against the ^1,365 of the former. I believe, 
 however, there were special reasons for the high price given for Lilies. 
 
 A short letter, dated from Woolstone, November 1 1 , and evidently 
 not the first of a series, is only of interest as showing that Walker had 
 already been in Somersetshire for some little time. The next letter — 
 that referred to as having been fortunately preserved — is dated November 
 17, and addressed to his sister Mary: — 
 
 '* I rather expected to have another line from you, and you know your 
 little handwriting has always been welcome to me — trebly so in this 
 place, where one waits for the letters — but as you won't, or, dear, as you 
 cant^ and I know you must be busy at the new home, I scrawl a line to you 
 over my pipe, and a glass of ' summat to drink,' while old North and fat 
 old Mrs. Thorne [Mrs. Poyser she always seems like to me] are playing 
 at all fours, or some such dreadful game. I must tell you that I go up to 
 town for a week or so on Saturday, to see about the Stobhall picture, and 
 the Water Colour Exhibition, &c., and to make a study or two for the 
 picture I have commenced here ; and since you ask what it's all about, 
 I'll tell you, but I think I must have already done so, for you know I in- 
 tended doing it last year, and had the little wood house made, opposite 
 the field of action, where it stood through all the summer, and got so 
 warped that it had to be covered all over with a kind of felting stuff; 
 and to-day a little stove was rigged up in it, with the chimney coming out 
 of the roof thus " (a slight sketch) : *' looking absurd enough. However, 
 it helps to make it snug, and I intend making tea there — when the fire's 
 lighted, it roars again. Well, this is opposite a grand old stone quarry, 
 that is wonderful in the evening light, with trees and a fringe of green 
 on the top, but all crags and like a cliff; and descending from it, fields 
 with good undulating line, and the place suggests something quite 
 wild, and far away from every one. At mid-distance, I intend having a 
 little line of figures — field labourers, seen in profile, as they often are, 
 and sometimes they compose most beautifully- — all in different action. 
 Then nearer still, a large spread of bloomy, newly-ploughed earth, 
 purple you know, and sparkling, and still in rather a wavy sort of line ; 
 and right in front, THE PLOUGH, in full action, guided by a strong 
 man. The near horse, white in tone rather, with yellowish mane and tail, 
 telling against the dense earth just ploughed up ; and guiding the horses, 
 with long reins, a boy, active and graceful, if 1 can do him ; and indigo 
 
194 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK tFALKER ch. x 
 
 rooks circling about — at least with rather blue lights on them — one just 
 poised, before he drops on a furrow. Some teasels and large weeds, right 
 in the foreground, such as keep their form through the ploughing months ; 
 the dress of the figures not suggesting any particular time — not the present, 
 that is — if I can only do it. The subject is a good one, as you'd say if 
 you saw the place lit up with the evening glow from the front ; anyhow, 
 I intend doing all I can with it. The plough is really very graceful in line ; 
 some of them a faded vermilion colour. So now I think I've told you the 
 subject for my ' next.' The Missus tells me you are likely to be comfort- 
 able, she thinks, where you are ; more so indeed than at the place you've 
 left. She says that you will be able to receive a poor tootler sometimes, 
 who'll only be too happy, dear, as you know. I've just been religiously 
 going through the new trio I mentioned to you — for conscience' sake — 
 though it's a bother having to practise among folks who don't know or 
 care a bit about it. This place is full of geese and chickens ; the former 
 are rampant. The moor or green is opposite this, and the railway cuts oiF 
 a corner of it. The geese somehow get on the line, and hiss at the train, 
 I hear, getting smashed of course while they're about it. There's a dog 
 here too, a sandy one, who took to me at first, and now goes down with 
 me to the wood house. He is fond of nuts, and cracks them himself, 
 like a Christian. North and I generally keep to our practice of taking a 
 long walk at night, before going to bed ; it's the best thing we can do, 
 and makes one sleep ; though he, poor fellow, has been tortured with 
 neuralgia for the last day or two, but is all right now. I've just received 
 a kind letter from B. Foster ; he wishes I'll go there when I leave this. . 
 . . I'm afraid I shall not see so much of you this winter as I could wish, 
 as this picture must of necessity keep me here a great deal. My comfort 
 must be that it's the best way I know of doing it, that's all." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 1870. 
 
 Walker spent Christmas at Mr, Birket Foster's. By the middle 
 of January, he was again at Woolstone, at work on The Plough. On 
 January 1 6, he wrote from there : — 
 
 ** I am all the better for coming down, and I find my work in so good 
 a state, that I shall stick hard at it ; have indeed worked at it to-day, and 
 feel sanguine as to the eventual result. The day has been most sweet 
 and balmy ; blackbirds, &c., singing away, and the colour of everything 
 quite splendid. I telegraphed to North from Bristol, so he was at the station 
 last night. I reached this at about nine, and was very tired, and after 
 supper and a glass, was glad enough to turn in. . . . And now there's 
 another thing which I would like sent, and it is some trifle for the woman 
 in whose field my wood house is ; not too swell — Fan or Poll might hit 
 upon something. She is middle-aged and unmarried, and I think poor 
 enough. I quite forgot to see about it as I meant to. . . . Meanwhile I 
 shall go on with the little water colours. Ask Pan to send me that proof 
 [never mind the tracing, I can do it] and ask her to find the number of 
 the Cornhill containing the cut [which she must tear out and send] of 
 Reine and her spinning wheel, and a fellow kissing her hand ; I think it 
 is the next number to the one she found for me, which was October '66 
 I think." 
 
 The above reference to small work is somewhat puzzling. I do not 
 know of any completed water colour of Dick and Reine — " Reine and 
 her spinning wheel, and a fellow kissing her hand " — while the illustra- 
 tion for October 1866, which is mentioned as if it had been lately made 
 use of, is. Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent., a subject already noticed 
 as having been painted in 1866 though not exhibited till this year. 
 There is ample evidence that in 1866 Walker was really engaged on a 
 water colour reproduction of this illustration, which appears to have been 
 completed ; but, on the other hand, in a memorandum of money received 
 this year, there is mention [without particulars] of a drawing from The 
 Village on the Cliffy which could not have been Dick and Reine., if that 
 subject were never carried out, and may possibly have been a duplicate 
 
 o 2 
 
196 LIFE ANB LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 of Lei us Drink to the Health of the Absent. If this is so, it would have 
 been the second drawing of the subject, and not that painted in 1866, 
 which was exhibited this year. 
 
 "That proof" may refer to the illustration to Sola — Cornhill^ July 
 1869 — as the water colour of this subject was painted about this time, and 
 disposed of to Mr. Gambart early in February, 
 
 For some time past. Walker had had the pictures of Wayfarers^ and 
 The Old Gate., at St. Petersburgh Place for further work, and in view 
 of an approaching election at the Royal Academy, it was considered 
 advisable to invite some influential painters to come and see them. 
 This is the explanation of the references to Sir Edwin Landseer in the 
 following extracts. 
 
 January 1 8 :— " . . . All jolly here, and work going on very well 
 indeed. . . . Thank dear Fan for the tracing, it will do very well. I hope 
 my telegram was not too late, but it cannot be helped if it was. She 
 would have done well in writing to Millais or Sir Edwin ; of course it is 
 rather an important matter, . . . Wind is E, here, and much colder, but 
 my picture looks very well, I am feeling ditto." 
 
 January 20 : — *' . . , I have worked altogether indoors to-day ; the 
 wind has been cutting, and the day miserable, I have often thought of 
 you all there together, knowing that if it's gloomy here, it must be truly 
 wretched with you. As for Sir Edwin and the pictures, if he does not 
 call to-morrow, it would be better to send them home, 1 think. Of 
 course he hasn't been — I feel as if he hadn't — and that no good of any 
 kind will come while this unfortunate wind lasts. There's nothing fresh 
 to tell. Our life here is so quiet, that the idea of news seems rich. 
 North is eagerly devouring the daily paper, which he gets just before 
 dinner ; fat Mrs. Thorne is patiently knitting stockings near him. She 
 has lately taken to it, as not requiring eyesight. , . N. and I took a 
 stroll in the gloaming, just before dinner, in search of a young tree of 
 peculiar shape for my picture. We caused quite a panic among the 
 birds, especially blackbirds, of which there seem to be any number : they 
 evidently felt aggrieved, by the noise they made. N. picked up a young 
 thrush, that we both thought a hawk had injured, as we saw one circling 
 about overhead. North seems to think my picture a success so far as it 
 goes, and he stares at it a deal." 
 
 January 21, to his sister Fanny: — 
 
 " I think you have done everything regarding the pictures most 
 capitally ; in fact, have done all that possibly could be done. The rest 
 must be left to fortune, I suppose. Meanwhile, all that you have done, 
 pleases me very much. I fear that talking to Ansdell or the others, 
 confidentially, would do but little good. I may possibly send a line to 
 A., between this and the eventful day. The letter for the Missus that will 
 reach same time, I wrote last night ; but of course the sleepy boy was 
 
1870 FREDERICK WALKER 197 
 
 only in time to see the mail-cart lights flash round the corner, on the 
 opposite side of the moor. We are at dinner while I write this, and by 
 the way, I have taken to cider [doing in Rome as Romans do], as I find 
 it does not disagree with me as it used. We have not been out at all 
 to-day — it has been too dreadful — have done more work indoors I'm 
 sure, than if we'd braved the bitter air. Dull lead clouds from the E. 
 all day, and slight drizzling snow. The other night some men and boys 
 came ' wassailing ' ; we heard singing in almost every key, and when they 
 came to the house, we could hear words about ' keeping him warm, and 
 a little more cider won't do us no harm,' which seems to be the usual 
 form of * wassailing ' in these parts, and of course they had more cider in 
 the kitchen. I have in hand a sort of coloured sketch from that story, 
 ' Mrs. Archie,' you know, the introduction scene — does well as a fill-gap, 
 and will, I hope, be finished in a few days, without interfering with the 
 big picture. As for wishing you were here, you'd find it slow enough 
 I'm sure, just now ; better perhaps when the spring has fairly burst out, 
 just before the sending in. Plenty of time to think of it then, for a few 
 days perhaps, but then you know so much can then be done if there's but 
 the money when the time comes, and the only thought now should be 
 sticking to it^ each in our own way just now, and bearing our troubles in 
 silence. We do down here, as you'd say if you could follow us through 
 the dark and mud, scarcely saying anything, and coming home tired out, 
 as we generally do. I sincerely wish the days were longer, and a little 
 less miserable, making work so difficult. Last Monday, just before the 
 wind changed, it was divine — a still grey day, warm, and the clouds high ; 
 the sort of day I meant in the ' Old Gate.' Of course I did lots of work. 
 - . . The reason I had no letter yesterday, was because it was sent to 
 Wellington first, instead of Williton. You'd all better make the fellows 
 ashamed of themselves, by writing Williton about three times the usual 
 size, and underlining it. I am going to write to Paddington about it. . . 
 I don't know what to ask you to get for poor Miss Blake, the woman 
 whose field I have. It ought to be some little matter that only London 
 can very well supply ; they think more of it, I fancy." 
 
 January 23, to his mother : — 
 
 "... No news here ; have done no work to-day. Wind still cold 
 and cheerless ; can only hope for a change soon. Will return as soon as 
 I possibly can, meanwhile all love to my dear Missus, from her own 
 loving F. ' 
 
 January 24 : — " . . . The scraps of news are of course most welcome, 
 and though Fan sends plenty, I answer to you, because I've only time to 
 write a short one. I am fully prepared about the election ; I mean that 
 the last ray of hope is extinguished by what Ansdell tells Fan. I feel 
 sure he's right. . . . The weather here is so bad that I have not touched 
 the big picture to-day, but content myself with touching on the little 
 water colour ' Mrs. Archie.' It is slight, and I shall send it to Fan, and 
 
198 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 see how she can do battle with young Deschamps over it. She had better 
 ask him what he thinks can be given for it, if she is uncertain in her mind. 
 As I say, it will be very slight, and done quite without models, which I 
 fear will be evident enough. I have to-day arranged with a farmer about 
 the horses and everything, even to their standing on ploughed ground 
 while I work from them, I made a slight sketch before from a plough, 
 &c,, of his, but now it will be the serious business. He [the farmer] is a 
 good old fellow, and anxious to please — he came here and discussed it, over 
 the inevitable glass of something warm. So I shall at least have a tussle 
 with this part of the business before I go to town ; when I shall bring it 
 with me, I think, for a few days." 
 
 The coloured sketch from Mrs. Archie — Cornhilly August, 1863 — 
 remained in Walker's hands ; and after his death was sold at Christie's 
 with the rest of his effects, tt was shown at the exhibition of 1876. 
 
 January 26 : — "No letters this evening. Suppose we shall hear who 
 is the lucky man to-morrow. I am quite reconciled, I can assure you. 
 Have done a capital day's work, and had a good dinner. We are going 
 for a walk, so no more. . . . Glorious day here, but very cold ; snug 
 however in my wood house, and self quite well." 
 
 January 28 : — -"The lucky man appears to be Vicat Cole ; I had a 
 bet on with North that it would be he. . . . Well, one can but do one's 
 best, and that I am fully prepared to do. It would have been very sweet 
 though, just now, would it not } I expect that at last, if I live long 
 enough, it will come to me because it will be too clearly my right, to be 
 withheld from me any longer. I wish I had a little more the knack of 
 making myself agreeable as a business., and in the right quarters. I don't 
 see why you should have been tramping to the R. Academy, when the 
 question sent to the Ansdells would have been answered by means of a 
 note. However, it matters little enough now. I have been working very 
 hard on the picture, and it is developing rapidly ; have worked entirely at 
 it, doing nothing more to the small water colour matter. . . , The 
 weather here has changed, being no longer frosty ; but yesterday and day 
 before, it was lovely here in spite of the cold, for one didn't feel it, being 
 very dry." 
 
 January 31 : — " . . . The wind has changed, and a glorious day it 
 has been here — splendid colour above and below, and soft gusts of wind, 
 instead of the cutting N,E,, so of course I can discard my grievances like 
 a great coat. N, and I walked about on the moor after leaving work, and 
 just before dinner, to see the last glories in the way of colour. I thought 
 of you all, and sincerely hoped that, towards the west, you could see from 
 the window some of the beauties we saw. The picture gives me a great 
 deal of worry. Sometimes I think it will be very much of a success, and 
 then again I don't know what to think. I wrote to those Punch people 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 199 
 
 last night, and shall still strive to go on with the small work ; and so, I 
 hope, we shall get through somehow. I don't much like the idea of 
 leaving this before making some more money, however. Well, I've 
 nothing more to say. Yes, I did get Punch yesterday, and Fun and 
 Tomahawk on another morning ; and thought the two latter so bad that 
 I hope you won't send them again. North says he hasn't yet recovered 
 from them. This beastly month will be over by the time you get this. 
 It's astonishing how we all wish the cold cheerless weather over, and yet 
 how precious it is. . . . There's a lot of ploughing going on, and I am in 
 the thick of it. More about my coming up, later in the week ; meanwhile 
 give me all the news as usual." 
 
 Walker went up to town for a few days, and was back again on 
 February 7. On February 8 he wrote : — 
 
 " Here quite punctually last night, and very comfortable. , . . Feel 
 much better for the little change, in fact, very well indeed. Got on 
 capitally with work to-day, and have found a fresh place for the foreground, 
 quite near this house, and very secluded, being at the bottom of a beautiful 
 orchard belonging to the woman in whose field my hut is. The little 
 stream winds by, and altogether the discovery is a very great one, I think, 
 because I was always uneasy about this part of the picture. We found it 
 this morning — so much for the after breakfast stroll, I have worked 
 there all day, and a very lovely one it has been, . , , Last night was very 
 jolly and bright, to-day altogether exquisite. Have very little fear for 
 the picture if it only keep like this for a fortnight, . . . I'm going in for 
 another pot-boiler ; shall try to do it in the evenings." 
 
 The introduction of the stream into the foreground of 'The Plough 
 was the chief departure from Walker's conception of the picture, as given 
 in the concluding letter of the last chapter. It was, moreover, the cause 
 of what might have been a serious accident to the picture itself. In an 
 article on The Harbour of Refuge, in the Magazine of Art for November 
 1893, Mr. North casually mentions this incident as follows : — 
 
 " Walker did not invent out-of-door painting, but no man more 
 honestly worked in open air, more determinedly, more appreciatively. 
 I have known him working under circumstances of physical discomfort 
 which would have made painting impossible to most men. On The Plough, 
 for instance, he worked some windy days with the canvas lying on the 
 uneven earth, with great stones and lumps of wood on its corners to keep 
 it steady. Once it was carried into the stream which is its foreground, 
 by an extra strong blast, and floated down some way — luckily, face up. 
 This he took very calmly, saying, ' I have noticed that unfinished pictures 
 never come to harm from accidents.' " 
 
 February 1 1 : — " I have been making a mistake. I fancied that this 
 was Thursday, instead of Friday — a day out of my reckoning, confound it. 
 
200 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 I am jealous of every day now, and have been kept from painting to-day, 
 on account of shifting my canvas to another stretcher, and altering its 
 shape by some inches. Fan will say this is usual^ and so it is ; but I 
 could never have finished it with comfort as it was, for a lovely tree, &c., 
 which I believe to be almost essential, I must have left out. But the 
 nuisance is, that most beautiful rosy clouds on russet sky trooped up 
 just at sunset, and I could do no more than just make a note of them. 
 The cold here is something tremendous ; my moustache was frozen to a 
 stick last night. We walked home from our long walk, in the bright moon- 
 light, and enjoyed it very much, though North is not a very rapid walker 
 as a rule. Please send me some thick [leather] gloves ; I think driving 
 gloves with wool inside would be best, and will last me a long time. 
 You see I have to carry my big canvas on my head, from the scene of 
 action, Mrs. Thome's son being away for a time, helping some one through 
 the lambing time. He generally does this, and my poor hands suffer in 
 such weather. . . I expect the ice bears ; I tried some on the moor, just 
 before dinner, and it was like a rock. I hope you are all comfortable in 
 this bitter cold. I am very well and comfortable here, and only thinking 
 how i may best get forward with the picture. Am in rather a fever to 
 see it get on now." 
 
 The above-mentioned alteration in the size of the canvas of The 
 Plough was, Mr. North tells me, brought about by the help of the 
 village dressmaker, who sewed on the additional piece ! Mr, North also 
 says : — 
 
 " His energy when engaged in work was most extraordinary. He 
 would never hesitate to put on his head his large canvas — for instance, 
 that on which The Plough was painted — and for a five or ten minutes' 
 rapid work, rush off with it a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile, 
 should the man who was usually waiting for the purpose be absent at 
 the moment." 
 
 February 13 : — " The gloves, I am sorry to say, are too large to wear, 
 I know there is a difficulty in getting them small enough, but these are 
 useless, and I return them. I expect I am too imaginative, for I fancied 
 such things might occasionally be worn by youths, and by women, and 
 that they would be made for that purpose. The day is detestable ; I am 
 quite tired of it. . . . The afternoon is too awful, or I should go for a 
 long walk by myself. Of course, my work is much interfered with, and 
 I cannot help feeling very anxious about it. The light, too, for indoor 
 work, is very bad, especially as this picture is rather deep in tone. I can 
 only hope that it will alter soon, or I must come up again. . , . It is 
 quite dry, and with that gritty dust that is said to be so valuable at this 
 time. The chimneys smoke here, now and then, and no wonder ; it's 
 blowing a gale. I should say you cannot do better than keep well 
 indoors." 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 201 
 
 February 14 : — " ... I have another pot-boiler half done, which I 
 have been working on to-day, the light being too bad for the big picture. 
 This will be ready for Fan and Deschamps during the week. The 
 subject is from ' Philip ' — they are outside a sick man's chamber door, 
 and there is a woman reading a Bible. I have just commenced another, 
 where Philip reads out his letter of appointment to Charlotte, the little 
 children standing on the landing behind them. I regret to say that, in 
 spite of all care, a dreadful cold is the result of all this infernal weather — 
 almost as bad, I think it is, as the one I had while in town. It is only 
 to be expected, I suppose. It is heartrending to see the poor birds quite 
 tame with distress. A dreadful kind of snow has been falling all day — 
 when I say falling, I mean driving from the moor almost parallel with 
 the road. ... I am going to have the case for my picture prepared at 
 once, for if this is to last, I may as well get to town, and try to work 
 from the model. ... I don't ask you to send my skates, because I am 
 resolved to do nothing of the kind during daylight, and the moon is 
 already at the full. The blacksmith's lad here has broken his arm ; did 
 it yesterday, on some ice that North and I had an hour's sliding on in 
 the moonlight, Friday night. All up with the picture, if it had been wjy 
 arm." 
 
 Of the two water colours spoken of above. At the Sick Mans Door — 
 Cornhill^ February, 1862, — was, I believe, the only one completed. I 
 am, however, unable to speak with certainty, having never seen either 
 drawing. 
 
 February 1 5 : — " Much better, and done a splendid day's work on 
 the big picture. North said, ' Well, I suppose you've made your 
 j^ioo to-day.' He was looking at the picture a long time. I feel 
 much more hopeful, I need not say. The cold has seen its worst I 
 think." 
 
 February 18 : — "I just scrawl a few lines, that the boy takes to 
 the post — this instead of waiting until after dinner, and sending it by 
 the mail-cart as it passes, which I usually do ; but it has come on so 
 dark, that I have just given over work. The days are just as bad as they 
 can be — quite enough to wear one out, no matter how stout-hearted 
 one is disposed to be. To-day it has been much as I should fancy you 
 have it — a sluggish whitey brown day, and a fine raw wind, but not 
 freezing I think. I have done some good to the picture, which is all 
 I can say. In Fan's letter she says, if I pump myself out with pot- 
 boilers, I cannot get on with the big picture, and she asks me to keep 
 her letter by me while answering it ; which offers me a splendid 
 chance of snubbing^ for if she'd done so by mine, she would have seen 
 that I said I found it rather hard to take to pot-boilers after working 
 at the big picture, as I have every day almost. As for its being of 
 all importance, I know that only too well, and chafe enough under 
 
202 
 
 LIFE JND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XI 
 
 the accumulation of cold and darkness ; but then I suppose the pot 
 mus^ be kept warm, if not boiling, by some one. I shall probably bring 
 myself and picture up on Wednesday next. I have to see about the 
 frame, &c., &c., and this will be a good opportunity, especially if 
 the weather keeps as it is." 
 
 ^^^^ >^ 
 
 
 February 19, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 *' The valentine from the little one came at dinner time, and is 
 quite appreciated. Tell her I think it very nice, and it is the only 
 one I have had this year. I am glad she likes the sketch. I write 
 this to-night [though you cannot get it till Monday] because I have 
 a few moments just nice and handy to write to my Poll in. Old 
 North is not ready to go out yet — is reading the paper, and so is 
 stout Mrs. Thorne near the fire, and with a candle to herself, which 
 she holds close to the paper, and which gives her quite a Rembrandtish 
 effect of light and shade. Tell little Poll that the birds about here 
 are all building nests, at least I have seen plenty fly away with long 
 straws from their bills. There is one poor bird that we feed with sop 
 outside the window — a big bird he is, a thrush — and he poor thing 
 cannot carry straws in his mouth, because his bill is broken, or 
 deformed. We first saw him at the side of the window, trying in vain 
 to pick off some red berries that grow in clusters all up the front of 
 this house, and give much food to the poor birds in winter. Well, 
 it was evident that he could never get one off, and he seemed quite 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 203 
 
 bold and desperate with hunger ; so we threw out some bread, and had 
 the pleasure of seeing him, shortly afterwards, gulp two or three great 
 pieces down. And we mean to feed him every day, so long as we see 
 him come for food. We have a sandy-coloured dog here too [tell her], 
 that always walks in at meal-times, and rests his chin on one's knee, 
 with his eyes turned up and showing their whites, looking quite loving, 
 as if he were not thinking a bit about the good things on the table, 
 though we know he is, and always give him some. He likes us, I 
 know, and generally endeavours to go out with us for a long walk in 
 the evenings, though often it is so dark that we cannot see him, and I 
 generally, when it is a very dark night, carry a little lanthorn fastened to my 
 waist. I hope, dear, this vile weather does not depress you very much. 
 Two or three times to-day I have had to leave off work on account of 
 the darkness, but I keep to it, and when I find it impossible, I turn to the 
 little water colour I have in hand, and which I am half in hopes of 
 finishing to-morrow. Everything is very backward here, and the violets 
 that were coming out so nicely before the frost, are all nipped up and 
 dead. A few snowdrops just show their heads ; well, it must shortly be 
 better in spite of itself, so that's a comfort. A nice prosy note this, but 
 there's little to write about here." 
 
 February 20, to his mother : — 
 
 " I don't at all know about going up on Wednesday. The wind has 
 changed, and the first blue sky for a week past shows such messes and 
 botches, I don't know how I am to leave work until the end of the week, 
 at least. I am quite disheartened with the look of my picture to-day, and 
 must work like a slave. The enclosed from Millais, which came this 
 morning, in answer to one I wrote, will show the time I have ; which is, 
 as I feared, earlier than usual. To-morrow and next day will show me 
 more clearly when I can leave this ; I feel that when I do, I ought to 
 remain to work the figures, &c., up to a certain point, before coming 
 back. . . . The water colour I thought to finish to-day, but have done 
 but little to it, not feeling quite up to it in fact, and we have been 
 strolling about all the afternoon, and part of the morning. It will be 
 finished by Tuesday or Wednesday, I think. Fan will be best able to 
 judge of its value ; I fancy it ought to be 60, because it is rather carefully 
 treated in the way of painting. After this, I shall think of nothing but 
 the big picture. The suspense and worry of the last week, and having to 
 make shift with work indoors, I find to be far more wearing than the 
 very hardest work, with things favourable, and the result is that I feel a 
 little depressed and seedy to-day. The wind is N.W. or thereabouts, and 
 though the sky at once showed the change, the air is cold, and the 
 meadows still looking wretched with patches of rotten ice. I wrote a 
 little note to Poll last night, chiefly for the little one's benefit. No news 
 beyond this." 
 
 February 22 : — "To-day glorious, and the picture going on very well 
 
204 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 indeed. I am quite jolly about it once more, and feel quite a new creature. 
 Shall not come up for a week I expect now, . . . The water colour will be 
 done, perhaps, to-morrow or next day. ... I am all agog for work, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 February 23 : — " Just a line ; am too tired to write more ; at work 
 until I could see no longer. . . . You can do nothing in the way of 
 sending models, &c., down here, but can, if you know how, ascertain 
 where a white horse and his harness are to be hired — a cart horse or 
 brewer's horse. Also go to Charing Cross, and look into such shops 
 there [if any] that contain photographs ; ask if they can tell you if a 
 photo of Charles First's statue there has been published. I think the 
 horse rather fine, and want to crib from it." 
 
 February 24 : — " I really have not had time to finish the water 
 colour, though I just touch on it each day, generally at luncheon time. 
 All my energies seem spent on the big picture, which has all the excite- 
 ment of perhaps not being done ; though yesterday and to-day lessen 
 that excitement somewhat. I do not know how to be thankful enough 
 for such days as these two ; have worked till past six — that is, just after 
 six, coming in at once to dinner. . . . To-morrow or next day will finish 
 the little water colour, and then Fan must do her best. . . . Don't expect 
 much writing now, as daylight lasts till six and past. Shall be home, you 
 know, in a week." 
 
 February 27 : — "By this evening's post, I send the water colour, 
 directed to Fan. I have been working hard at it all day in order to send 
 it off. Fan had better write or telegraph to Deschamps on receipt of it, 
 telling him to come in the afternoon ; I may then perhaps be able to hear 
 about it, Tuesday morning. I am anxious to realise on it as quickly as 
 possible. Fan need do nothing more than just touch the corners with a 
 little gum, and put it flat in the middle of a card — not rub the paint 
 round the edge^ — I rather fancy G. likes every sign of its having come 
 direct from the painter. Tell Deschamps I think it would look best in a 
 gold mount. I shall do no more of such work now, and it has been some 
 strain doing these, and the other as well. You will see me at the end of 
 the week. ... I cannot tell anything about the big picture. I have 
 worked hard each day, since it has been fine, and have not so much as 
 looked at it to-day." 
 
 February 28 :■ — "I just have a minute before dinner to send you a 
 word or two. Yours and Fan's just this instant come. Am always glad 
 to see your dear old handwriting, and Fan's too. One feels one's not an 
 exile at letter time. Yesterday was a lovely day here too, but chilly 
 towards evening ; and I did not go out till then, because of the water 
 colour, the fate of which I shall be glad to learn. To-day has been soft 
 and sweet, thank Heaven, I do, I may truly say, for it. There are all 
 signs of things beginning to give signs of life — little fluffy pods on the 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 205 
 
 bushes, all swelling, and tender green points just peeping through the 
 ground. As for the birds, they are rampant. The poor beakless one 
 has disappeared ; is dead I fear, or else finds food elsewhere. I have been 
 working to-day by the side of the little trout stream, and heard them 
 rising very often, reminding me of past pleasures a long way from this — 
 pleasures still to come perhaps. As for these latter, I think if work goes 
 on well, we ought, we three, to organise a trip after the sending in ; where, 
 we will not decide now." 
 
 March 1 : — " I write a line in haste, with my mouth full, I was going 
 to say, of marmalade tart and cream, which we often have, Mrs. T, being 
 rather famous for it, and the cream literally ' standing up,' so rich is it. 
 At dusk [which is now just dinner time], there is a general relaxation or 
 undoing, which begins with a glass of sherry, and the heavy boots being 
 taken off ; North, as a rule, opening the paper, which an afternoon train 
 drops on to the bank as it passes the moor ; and a little later, just as Mrs. 
 T. is carving the joint, fowl, or what not, at the end of the table, the boy 
 comes from Sampford with the evening letter, or without one, as the case 
 may be. By that time, Mrs. T. has settled down to her knitting, having 
 done all the serving, and now and then volunteers some observation to 
 North [as she did just now], to which there is generally the short answer 
 from North, poring over his paper. Prosy enough you'll say, but I know 
 you like to have the ' situation ' put before you accurately. This even- 
 ing, we are going for our walk, to Stogumber, to look at an old chair, 
 similar to one here, which is mine, and which will soon figure at No. 3, 
 St. P. PL, and then I shall ask you to make a cushion for it. The chair 
 we are going to see is much the same, we hear — of oak, with flat carved 
 back, &c., very quaint ; and if better than the one here, / have it, if not, 
 N. does ! By this you understand [if indeed you can follow this scrawl], 
 that North insists upon my having the better of the two chairs, he having 
 a desire to possess one of them." 
 
 March 3 : — "I fear /V'j a case. Wind suddenly gone round to E., 
 and as nasty as can be. Shall be home on Saturday, for certainty. Ask 
 Fan to write Unwin the model, to call at Bayswater, Sunday, at one or at 
 two, about sittings — she'll find his address in the red book, I think. 
 Have not done much good to picture to-day I fear ; this change quite 
 enough to account for it." 
 
 March 4 : — " I reach Paddington by the 2.45 train ; shall be with 
 you about 3.30 I suppose. I have told the framemaker to meet me at 
 Paddington, as he will have a van, and my picture is too big for a cab ; 
 so I shall probably arrive with him." 
 
 The remaining work on the picture was done at St. Petersburgh 
 Place. A suitable cart horse was found, and stood in the little garden, as 
 a model for the plough horses. 
 
 It is interesting to notice the points of difference between Walker's 
 
2o6 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 description of the picture and the completed work. The introduction of 
 the stream has been already mentioned. The " tree of peculiar shape " 
 is also an introduction, while the little line of figures in the mid-distance 
 was to disappear, to give place to the figure of the farmer on horseback. 
 Otherwise the picture remains as described, even to the rook "just poised, 
 before he drops on a furrow." 
 
 Of the farmer on horseback, Mr. Orchardson tells me that, when he 
 first saw this figure in the picture, he exclaimed, " Ah — Colleoni ! " re- 
 ferring to the well-known statue in Venice. " Do you recognise him ^ " 
 said Walker, " Isn't it splendid .? " 
 
 The reader may be interested in knowing, that a view of the quarry 
 can be obtained from the Minehead Branch of the Great Western Rail- 
 way, on the right-hand side going from Taunton, a few minutes before 
 reaching Williton station. The railway and a road run between the 
 quarry, and the field where Walker's hut stood, but it is hardly necessary 
 to say they found no place in the picture. 
 
 Contrary to Walker's custom. The Plough was exhibited with a 
 quotation in addition to the title ; the quotation — " Man goeth forth 
 unto his work and to his labour until the evening" [Psalm civ. 23] — 
 having been suggested by Mr. W. Graham. 
 
 It may be said without exaggeration, that on its appearance at the 
 Royal Academy, the picture was received with something akin to en- 
 thusiasm. A few extracts from the press criticisms of the time must 
 suffice to show this. 
 
 The Times said : — *' This is a common English landscape trans- 
 figured by the moment and the light, and made poetic from common- 
 place, which common-place treatment would have left it. And this we 
 feel to be the noblest and most fruitful function of art, to elevate nature 
 by means which nature supplies." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette : — " In the way in which this scene is realised there 
 is a rare and almost epic grandeur ; it rouses the imagination like a 
 poem, with its impassioned richness of colour, its combined fire and 
 dignity of action." 
 
 Athenaum : — " The colour of this picture is powerful and true, the 
 drawing, not alone of the figures but of the trees, in every branch, and 
 the herbage in each leaf, is exquisite ,- the whole is as solid and brilliant 
 as possible. It is a poem on canvas." 
 
 Saturday Review : — " The great colour-picture of the year comes from 
 Mr. Walker. . . . The figures in their dramatic action, the landscape in 
 its veiled splendour, are not unworthy Giorgione." 
 
 The picture was bought from Mr. Agnew by his Excellency the Marquis 
 
?; 
 
 §^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^1 
 
 J 
 
 < 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 207 
 
 de Misa, Count de Bayona, in whose possession it remains, and by whom 
 it has been several times lent for exhibition. Mr. Macbeth's fine etching 
 is known to many. 
 
 At the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, Walker 
 had but one drawing — the water colour reproduction of Wayfarers. 
 
 The two following letters are to Mr. North, on the rejection of his 
 oil pictures by the Royal Academy. 
 
 April 28 : — "I purposely deferred writing until yesterday ^ for then I 
 hoped to have been able to write in a very different strain, and now I 
 hardly know what to say, for in truth I am far too disgusted to say 
 much ; far more disgusted than astonished, though of course this was 
 my first feeling yesterday at the ' varnishing.' I cannot blind myself to the 
 fact of this being a very unfortunate thing, and were you less certain of 
 eventual success, I would counsel resentment — that is, the only form of 
 resentment that you and I can show — but then cool perseverance, and 
 reserving these very things for them when they will be of another way of 
 thinking, is far more of a winning game. Upon my soul, when I saw 
 some of the men that both you and I know, airing themselves yester- 
 day, and knowing too the extent of their aims [as I do fully], I was 
 half inclined to give way. You've no idea how much contempt I felt 
 for most of the stuff there. Write me a line to say you don't take 
 this much to heart. I have been away until yesterday at Foster's, and 
 am feeling less pumped out than when I saw you. I have both your 
 letters. Do as you think best as regards Miss Blake. Mrs. Thorne 
 had best give her to understand that nothing unreasonable will be paid 
 by me ; T can assure her that. Perhaps it had better be put to arbitra- 
 tion ; I am tired of people trying to get the best of one." 
 
 Miss Blake's idea of reasonable compensation for allowing the wood 
 hut to stand on her field, worked out, Mr. North says, at something 
 like j^ 1,500 per acre per annum ! 
 
 April 30 : — " By all means send the pictures here, I would have 
 written for them had you told me where they now are. Agnew will 
 probably be calling here next week. Your framemaker will bring them 
 here from the Academy, if they have not already been removed. I 
 saw Graham at the private view yesterday, and was speaking about 
 this matter. He seemed rather nicer, I thought, than usual. Don't be 
 put down, for goodness sake, by this. . . . Mine is in the exact spot 
 that I had last year." 
 
 Walker's labours on The Plough had left him in a low state of 
 health ; and certainly, the way in which he worked in the open air in 
 all weathers, was calculated to try a much stronger man. After spend- 
 ing a short time on the Thames, he determined again to visit Venice, 
 where Mr. Orchardson was then staying. The following letter, dated 
 
2o8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 May II, was addressed to Mrs. [now Lady Constance] Leslie, by whose 
 kindness I am enabled to print it : — 
 
 " I have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and to return you 
 my hearty thanks for your kindness in sending it. I assure you I have 
 a very keen desire for such spontaneous praise, especially from those whose 
 taste I know to be good and pure. I can only say I am sincerely glad 
 that you admire my picture. I think I am going away — to Venice, I 
 think — next week. I have had a succession of colds, and feel that com- 
 plete change is the best cure. Moreover I have plans for working while 
 there — or at least of commencing some work, and perhaps of returning 
 to it next autumn." 
 
 This mention of plans for work is worthy of notice. When the time 
 comes to speak of The Harbour of Refuge^ it will be seen that an idea 
 was already in Walker's brain, from which that picture was to be evolved. 
 Any interest this second visit to Venice may have, is due chiefly to that 
 fact. 
 
 On this occasion, Walker decided on going overland by easy stages. 
 He left London for Dover, on May 30, and in a short letter from the 
 " Lord Warden," says : — " I was sorry to leave both of you, I can assure 
 you ; and if all does not go quite smooth, shall turn back at any point." 
 
 May 3 1 , Brussels : — 
 
 " All right, and feeling pretty jolly, though rather tired, as it's been a 
 long day of it. Met B." [Mr. H. Blackburn] "all right, and we decided 
 on crossing to Calais only, instead of Ostend ; glad we did, as it was very 
 rough. We have had a stroll through this splendid city. ... I find B. 
 has written to Murch, the artist, at Munich, to say we shall be there." 
 
 June 2 : — On the railway between Coblentz and Wiirzburg : — 
 
 " We made a slight alteration in our journey yesterday, went on to 
 Coblentz, instead of stopping at Cologne. . . . Am feeling all right now, 
 but rather seedy this morning. I think it's all right, however. The 
 ' bruisey ' feeling I mentioned, seems more muscular than anything, I 
 fancy, and that tightness relieves itself. Altogether I think and hope it 
 the fag end of the colds I've had, and must be more careful in future 
 [please God]. . . . Blackburn is a very good companion, and saves 
 me a world of trouble. I wish he were going the whole way, but 
 once at Verona, I am all right. I think I shall telegraph to Orchard- 
 son from Munich, and not leave Blackburn and Murch, till I get an 
 answer." 
 
 June 4 : — Hotel of the Four Seasons, Munich : — 
 
 *' I have just been out to get Fan's short letter, and have telegraphed 
 to Orchardson to say I shall be with him on Wednesday. By this you will 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 209 
 
 see that I have all along insisted on doing the journey by easy stages, rather 
 to Blackburn's astonishment sometimes ; nor am I sparing expense, so far 
 as comfort goes. I have decided on not going to this Passion play, as I 
 heard from Murch [who met us at the station on our arrival last night] 
 that the journey is a bothering one, that the whole thing is very fatiguing, 
 though beautiful, and that one is by no means sure of getting lodging. 
 This last decided me, and Blackburn will probably, on Monday, go a short 
 part of the journey with me, to a place he wishes to see, leaving the 
 Passion play until to-morrow week. . . . Wiirzburg, that we left yesterday, 
 was a wonderful old place, with a nice river [the Maine] running through 
 an old bridge with statues on it. We loafed about, and watched the 
 cigar-smoking officers saluting each other. We went up to the citadel, 
 with its ramparts frowning over the town ; we were escorted by a hand- 
 some trooper with a bronzed face. He noticed B. picking a wild flower 
 for his button-hole, and just fancy, he stooped and plucked the enclosed, 
 and handed them to me, gracefully too — Fan would have been charmed 
 ■with the simplicity of the act. Now my route on leaving this on 
 Monday, will be as follows : on Monday night I reach Innsbruck, .... 
 Tuesday night I reach Verona, .... and Wednesday evening, please 
 Heaven, I reach Venice." 
 
 June 5, from same address : — 
 
 " As it's a rainy and miserable day, I cannot do better than just write 
 a line or two, for we neither of us feel the least desire to go out ; and 
 for myself, I only know I feel low-spirited, if only to think that after 
 coming so far, it should be as chilly and uncomfortable as when I started. 
 I dare say it will be all right by to-morrow night, and better still when I 
 get t'other side of the mountains, the day after. I had an answer from 
 
 Orchardson last night Of course I am often wishing we three were 
 
 together, roaming about, as you may be sure ; especially when one sees 
 glimpses of beauty of a kind not to be seen at home. This precious 
 place stands something like two or three thousand feet above the level of 
 the sea, so no wonder it is not particularly hot. If I return overland, 
 I shall do it by the more direct route, I think, the one I already know. , 
 I leave this by 10 o'clock to-morrow, and hear that the view from the 
 line across the mountains is, in parts, magnificent." 
 
 June 9, from San Gregorio, 351 Calle Barbero, Venice : — 
 
 " Here I am, and feeling well and jolly. Got here yesterday about 
 5, Quiller, and the faithful Antonio, meeting me at the station. I 
 left Innsbruck at 9 in the morning the day before yesterday, getting 
 to Verona at 9 in the evening, having crossed the Alps at the Brenner 
 pass, and a most wonderful day it was, the mountains and snow looking 
 terrific. Then as we got down nearer Verona, getting more like Scot- 
 land, only ten times grander, and finally into the loveliest valley I ever 
 saw, I think. At Verona, there was a letter from Quiller, to say he had 
 
2IO LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 got a comfortable room here for me, &c. It is almost difficult to believe 
 that two years have passed, and more, since I was here ; it seems but 
 yesterday. , . . Well, it's beautiful here — just nice and warm, not hot — and 
 Quiller says it has been wretchedly cold, and that I am fortunate in not 
 coming earlier ; so you see it is all for the best. . . . We strolled about last 
 evening, in the Square of St, Mark, dear old place ; and I wished very 
 much that you and Fan were here, and Quiller agreed with me that it 
 had been jolly enough. I need not say how often I think of you both, 
 and hope you are comfortable ; believe me, I am now, this place is so 
 resting and fresh. You would be surprised at my comfortable bedroom^ 
 and I have a sitting room adjoining, where we take our coffee and rolls, 
 first thing." 
 
 Mr. Orchardson remembers Walker's pleasurable excitement at 
 finding himself again in Venice. How, on the morning after his arrival, 
 he was continually running from the breakfast table to the window 
 to look at the scene below, till Mr. Orchardson thought the breakfast 
 would never be finished. Another little incident Mr. Orchardson calls 
 to mind is that one day Walker, fancying his bitten finger-nails were 
 attracting attention, drew in his hand, saying : " Don't look at my poor 
 fingers. I've done everything I can to cure myself. I've rubbed my 
 fingers with bitter aloes, till I love bitter aloes." 
 
 June lo : — "Before turning in, I begin a line or two, to say yours 
 and Fan's came to hand this afternoon, and glad enough I was to have 
 them. I had sent Antonio the faithful, once to the Europa, but the 
 manager was out and the porter couldn't tell him anything about any 
 letter ; and while Quiller and I were afterwards standing on a bridge, 
 watching the goings on. Fan's well-known hand was suddenly put before 
 me from behind — the faithful one had been again, and had followed us 
 with it somehow. Well, it's just lovely here, and I am quite well again ; 
 my appetite returned, and thoughts of work coming upon me. But we 
 have been idling to-day most perfectly ; strolling through the little quaint 
 streets, and seeing the sort of daily life that the ordinary visitor never has 
 time to see, for he is doing the regular thing, and cannot afford to study 
 back streets, I suppose. There is a good deal of lightning to-night, and 
 we have this evening been mingling with a sort of flotilla of boats that 
 gathered to hear the music on the Grand Canal, given by a kind of choir 
 of men and boys, composed, Antonio says, of ' gondolieri and men who 
 paint houses.' Any number of coloured lamps, and the whole thing 
 moving slowly along on the water, like something unreal ; people burning 
 coloured fires as they went. On our way home, we stopped for some of 
 the famous beer at Bauer's — Fan has often heard the Fosters speak of it — 
 and we of course drank to the absent ones. It's just warm enough to sit 
 with comfort in the open air after sunset, without risk, as we did, for 
 instance, last night ; and I must tell you we had a little surprise yesterday 
 — we met no less a person than Barlow the engraver [of Kensington], and 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 211 
 
 with him Eli Lees the Lancashire mill-owner, and another who was taking 
 care of both. We were coming through the Square of St. Mark, when I 
 heard my name called from a cafe table, where they were taking coffee. 
 Of course they were delighted, and we joined them — they were making 
 the usual hurried visit, and were off again this morning. Saturday 
 morning. . . . You surely must have decent weather for the little garden 
 slip, by this time. It pleases me much to think of the little balcony and 
 the place generally looking pretty. I shall be glad enough to return to 
 it, when the day comes." 
 
 The balcony with its verandah, and the boxes and hanging baskets of 
 bright flowers, which Mrs. Walker tended with such care, has disappeared ;. 
 and a bow-window has taken the place of the French window which led 
 on to it. 
 
 June 16 : — "Yours, and Fan's enclosed, came yesterday while I was 
 out, and glad enough I was. I had called at the Europa as usual ; indeed 
 Orchardson chaffs me about my anxiety for letters, or at least affects to ; 
 but one's being away from everything makes one very much interested as 
 to the time the letters arrive. ... I have been put off the sketch I was 
 beginning at St. Mark's, by a precious festival, which will bring many 
 people into the church for two or three days, and so interfere with me, for 
 one cannot very well work among the worshippers. The ringing of bells 
 to-day has been a complete nuisance, seeming never to cease. I intended 
 going to Mestre by train to-day, but the sun has been so powerful that I 
 am sure I should have done no good. I did not sleep at all well last night, 
 for some reason or other, and feel rather stupid to-day in consequence^ 
 We went to the Lido before lunch, and had a pretty long walk along the 
 shore. There was a cool breeze, and the sea was deliciously limpid. 
 Since we returned I have been inquiring at the agent's of Burns & Maclver,. 
 as to the prospects for the remainder of the month, &c., and find they 
 rather tally with the arrangements mentioned in their letter to me. There 
 is a vessel of theirs now at Trieste, which will probably be here in four or 
 five days, and remain [to take in her freight] for a week. This vessel is 
 the ' Morocco,' which left Liverpool at the beginning of last month, and it 
 just occurred to me that if I find myself not getting on with work, or if 
 the weather changes disagreeably, &c., I might possibly take passage by 
 her. . . . Orchardson is rather staggered, I fancy, at my already mention- 
 ing any arrangements for departure ; but he himself will not remain^ 
 should it turn very hot, or mosquitos become rampagious. , . . Yes, as 
 you say, the journey, or at least the latter part of it, was glorious. At 
 Verona [I quite forgot to tell you], at the Hotel, while I was looking 
 over a balcony, a gentleman asked me — seeing that I was English, I 
 suppose — if I could tell him anything about the amphitheatre [there is an 
 ancient one there in wonderful preservation]. I told him all I could, and 
 said I half thought of going to have a look at it again. We went 
 together, and I found he was a great fisherman — knew all about the Spean 
 
 p 2 
 
212 LIFE JND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 [a Scotchman, I think] — and was going to some stunning trout fishing of 
 his own in Germany ; and before we parted, invited me to go with him — 
 would provide me with a rod, &c, I should have gone if I hadn't made 
 my plans, I think. I foolishly forgot to ask him his name. . . . That's 
 capital about the roses — due, I expect, solely to your own tender care, my 
 •dear. . . . Friday^ 2,30 : I broke off last night to go to dinner, and finish 
 here at the place we take lunch — Bauer's. . . . We are going to take a 
 stroll in the narrow busy little streets ; they are so narrow as to be shady 
 and cool, compared with the open places. You will judge by this that 
 work is not progressing very fast ; but perhaps it is, after all, not unwise 
 to take that part of the matter coolly just now. I hope my dears are 
 •enjoying themselves, as 1 am. Quiller sends his kindest regards. He 
 chaffs me about this — says I must have posted you up to all the latest 
 news on this page, if I have not dived into futurity even." 
 
 June 22 : — " The ' Morocco ' is here ; she arrived in the night, and I 
 have just been on board, and seen Captain Leitch, who tells me she will 
 leave this on Saturday he thinks, though he will have to stop at 
 Malamocco, a port about ten miles from this, either to take in, or 
 discharge, part of the cargo, and so not leave finally, until Monday or 
 Tuesday. I don't know if I go on board on Saturday, or at what time 
 in fact ; anyhow I think I shall take passage by her, so of course you 
 will not write to me on receipt of this. She seems a fine vessel, and 
 Leitch seems a fine fellow, something like Captain Muir, and brown as 
 .an Indian. He tells me he has rather a nice party of passengers — four 
 or five, I think he said. The route he takes is down the Adriatic [of 
 course] stopping a day at Corfu, then straight to Malta, and from Malta 
 right away home, not stopping, he thinks, at Gibraltar ; the whole 
 passage being about fifteen days more or less, but this I suppose, under 
 favourable circumstances. So you see it will be quite a voyage, and 
 Quiller says he truly envies me, and I think would gladly go with me, 
 :but is such a wretched sailor, that he dare not." 
 
 June 25 : — " . . . We had a tremendous thunderstorm last night ; 
 began while I was out at dinner [Quiller kept indoors the whole day]. 
 I never saw such splendid lightning — literally in streams it was, goodness 
 knows how many at a time — the thunder, at one time, never leaving off 
 at all. I watched it from one of the arches of the Piazza, and could see 
 every line of the ' Morocco,' lying right out in the distance among the 
 others. It appears she will not be able to leave this to-day, at least 
 there's some talk of it, the tide or something preventing. I shall 
 ascertain, this morning, before posting this note. If it were not so truly 
 a good thing to return by her — I mean so beneficial — I think I would 
 return the other way, as being shorter, especially as you say * come 
 home ' ; but so far as one's poor calculation goes, I'm sure it's best I 
 should wind up my wanderings in this way. I can see Quiller is strongly 
 tempted to risk continued sea-sickness, and everything else — he was 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 213 
 
 much fetched by the trim, fine, character of the vessel, I could see too. 
 Yes, I will return by her, and you must not mind the rather long gap in 
 all this letter writing ; for you see, as yet, there's no invention for sending 
 letters out to meet vessels at sea ! . . . . Saty. aftn. Just time to post 
 this. The ' Morocco ' goes to-morrow, and I go aboard on Monday morn- 
 ing, all being well. Quiller will go with me to Malamocco." 
 
 June 27 : — "I'm just off. We go in the gondola to Malamocco^ 
 with two additional rowers. Am all serene. If any letters come here, 
 Quiller will send them home, A fine bright morning, and I am looking 
 forward to the voyage with pleasure. The ' Morocco ' leaves Malamocco 
 at about four this afternoon." 
 
 Scraps from Corfu, Malta, and Gibraltar close this series of letters, 
 and Walker reached Liverpool on July 13. The only work he appears 
 to have completed on this occasion, was a slight sketch of the house 
 where he stayed. It will be noticed that again there is no mention of 
 any visit to the pictures. 
 
 On July 29, Walker wrote to a friend — Mr. Alex. S. Stevenson — as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Just a line to say that I go on Monday up the Thames, with my 
 mother and sister, for a little while ; and should anything occur in the 
 matter of the election of my friend Phillips — I mean should you be in 
 town, and anything take place — of course I will come up directly. My 
 mother has taken some little lodgings just above Gt, Marlow. The 
 address, in case you think it well to write me, is Mrs. Harding's [near 
 the Turnpike Gate], Bisham, Berks. Of course too, if you are in that 
 neighbourhood, I hope you won't forget to let me know it." 
 
 One result of this stay at Bisham was the water colour of 'The Ferry y 
 of which a brother artist declared at the time, it was " simply the finest 
 drawing that had been done in the century." An examination of dates 
 in Walker's papers would seem to show that An Amateur — a coachman 
 in a garden, about to cut a cabbage — was also produced at Bisham, but 
 of this I cannot speak with certainty. An unfinished study for The 
 Ferry was included in the sale of Walker's works at Christie's, and 
 shown at the exhibition of 1876. From this study [which lam informed 
 remains in the state in which Walker left it], an exceedingly poor and 
 worthless etching has been concocted — a contrast to Mr. Macbeth's 
 etching of the finished drawing. 
 
 It so happened that one of my brothers, two friends, and I, were 
 up the river in August of this year, sleeping in our boats ; and I 
 have a pleasant recollection of Walker, his mother, and sister, accept- 
 ing our limited hospitality at our halting place for the day, at the 
 lower end of the Bisham woods. 
 
 Walker stayed at Bisham till about the middle of September, and 
 on the 13th, wrote from there to Mr. Stevenson : — 
 
214 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xi 
 
 " On chance of this reaching you, I send a line to say I hope to 
 go to some friends in Perthshire shortly, and could join you en route 
 for a day or two, if you are at Barresford and could receive me. 
 This is supposing that you are at the fishing — that there is yet any 
 fishing — but do not hesitate to tell me if you cannot see me. I wrote 
 you some time ago, telling you of my movements, &c., directed to the 
 Langham ; have been doing some work here, and shall go to town on 
 Monday next. I remember your saying you thought to be in North- 
 umberland at about this time, but of course shall [if I do not hear 
 from you] conclude that you have been obliged to alter your plans. I 
 wish I could have seen you here — the very finest part of the Thames 
 to my thinking." 
 
 The following letter to Mr. Stevenson, from London, though un- 
 dated, belongs to this month : — 
 
 " You'll be thinking it very strange that I haven't answered your 
 kind letters, but the fact is, I have been unable to say anything defi- 
 nite about getting away ; there is some work I must finish before 
 anything, and I've sometimes felt that I have no right to leave at all, after 
 my many wanderings, but the chance of going to you, and possibly getting 
 a fish, I do not like to let slip. I understand you to say you are not at 
 home after the end of the month, and I suppose the fishing too must be 
 drawing to a close ; the Tay goes on during part of next month. Tell 
 me if a day or two next week would be soon enough. I am ashamed to 
 be so vague, but until to-morrow night, or the day after, I am in a state 
 of dreadful muddle ; but if on Monday morning I have a line from you 
 saying that you can receive me any time next week, I can telegraph to 
 you. Excuse all this haste — just saving post, and off to that Orchardson, 
 who has come back, instead of dying elegantly at the seat of war. I am 
 going to snub him for not writing lately." 
 
 The work which had to be finished was probably An Amateur^ as the 
 drawing was in Mr. Agnew's hands early in October. In explanation of 
 the reference to Mr. Orchardson, it may be said that Mr. Orchardson, on 
 leaving Venice, had come back through France, then in the throes of the 
 Franco-German war. 
 
 September 29, to Mr. Stevenson : — 
 
 "All being well, I purpose leaving for Tynemouth to-morrow at 10. 
 Should anything prevent me I will telegraph. ... I am not feeling very 
 well, and fear I shall not be able to take part in the festivities to-morrow, 
 even if I am in time. I was looking over the costume you mentioned, 
 and find it scarcely wearable. A day or two rod in hand, will get me 
 right, I am sure." 
 
 September 30, to his mother, from Newcastle station : — 
 
 "Just arrived here, quite jolly, and feeling comfortable. It has been a 
 
i87o FREDERICK WALKER 215 
 
 positive rest^ and I have had a nap. There will not be time to write from 
 Tynemouth, so I send this scrawl. Hope my dears are all right, now 
 their grizzling worry is on the move. Will write all news when I have 
 it to tell." 
 
 October 2, from Tynemouth, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " .... I cannot help feeling great sorrow for the gloom I have 
 had such difficulty with lately, and will do my best to discard it at once and 
 for ever. I am feeling well enough now, and grieve to hear of your 
 attack, though I scarcely wonder at it. Give my best love to dear 
 Mummy. I hope she will have a quiet day to-morrow, and free from 
 worry. I will soon return ; had best go on to Perth though, for a day 
 or so." 
 
 October 4, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just one line to say I am about leaving this, and think, under all 
 circumstances, I may as well go on to Perth, if only for a day. We are 
 first going to Durham [Stevenson and I], as he thinks I ought not to miss 
 seeing so beautiful a place, and I am very anxious, too, having heard a 
 great deal of it. So I shall take leave of him this afternoon ; he has been 
 kindness itself, and I am sorry to leave him." 
 
 October 7, from Perth : — 
 
 " I shall be home to-morrow night, all being well. Did think of 
 starting this morning, as I had a restless night ; but having to call here 
 for flute and things, I could not get back in time, so went on with break- 
 fast, and shall take it easy for the remainder of the day. They are all 
 very kind here, and I am all the better for the trip I think, but getting 
 uneasy about work, so must get back, and really buckle to. Can go to 
 see Agnew perhaps, when the time comes. . . . Rather disagreeable 
 weather, and no fishing.''' 
 
 When the time arrived. Walker found himself able to leave his work, 
 and pay a visit to Manchester ; and by the kindness of Sir Wm. Agnew, 
 I am enabled to give the following interesting account of what happened 
 on the occasion. Sir Wm. Agnew says : — 
 
 " In October 1870, Fred Walker visited me at Summer Hill, Pendle- 
 ton. Mr. G. D. Leslie, the late J. E. Hodgson, and your brother Henry, 
 were of the party, and a jolly time we had. I had, in the early part of 
 that year, built a fine room, in which the billiard-table was placed. My 
 family was then all about me, and young, and my wife and I had 
 established a rule not to have it used on Sundays. My brother, John 
 Henry, was of the party, and on a certain Sunday, he took my artist 
 friends to make some calls, and dinner was fixed for 5 o'clock. When it 
 was suggested that they should play pool after dinner, I told them we 
 did not use the table on Sundays, and I retired to the library, having to 
 
2l6 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, XI 
 
 write some letters. I was absent from my friends for an hour, and on 
 
 rejoining them, was surprised to see my children burning corks to make 
 
 charcoal, and my butler sharpen- 
 ing billiard chalk. Fred, stand- 
 ing on a chair, burnt cork and 
 billiard chalk in hand, was at 
 work on one of the loveliest 
 designs he ever made, on the 
 angle wall of a large recessed 
 window. This subject — a mer- 
 maid, her face in profile, her 
 long hair streaming in the water, 
 holding out her arms to a little 
 baby merman, who had been 
 pricked by the shells at the 
 bottom of the sea, and whose 
 face expressed fear of the mother. 
 [Linley Sambourne made a copy 
 of this, and I think it appeared 
 in Punchy when there was an 
 article on the visit of the Punch 
 staff to Manchester, on the 
 occasion of my eldest son's 
 
 majority.] , Leslie was at work on the end wall, upon a Thames subject ; 
 
 your brother on another wall, drawing myself 
 
 and Fred playing at billiards, inimitably clever 
 
 — game forty-nine all. I lean on my cue, my 
 
 ball is just over the pocket. Fred is striking ; 
 
 his trousers raised show his pretty foot and a 
 
 striped stocking ; as he leans over the table, 
 
 his hair falls, and he is about to pot me ! 
 
 Walker touched on the figures. Over this, 
 
 your brother drew my coat of arms [according- 
 
 to Marks], with motto in scroll, ' Ecce Agnew 
 
 Dei ' ! ! Hodgson monopolised a wall, and he 
 
 drew the base line of a Highland landscape, half 
 
 way up it. Then Marks drew the waters under 
 
 the earth, with Marksian fishes — the Tobacco- 
 
 pipianus, &c., &c. Fred claimed the wall vis a 
 
 vis to the mermaid, and drew a lovely girl, 
 
 garlanded with jasmine, and holding in both 
 
 hands a basket of flowers, exquisitely drawn, 
 
 suggested by my daughter's face, figure, and 
 
 passion for flowers. She was greatly loved by 
 
 my guests, and by every one who was pri- 
 vileged to know her. They worked till midnight. Next morning, 
 
 full of enthusiasm, they sent into the City for some sticks of char- 
 
isjo FREDERICK WALKER 217 
 
 coal, and Italian chalk — would not leave the work — and when I returned 
 home for dinner at 7, I found them all working in their shirt 
 sleeves, happy as larks. George Leslie's subject developed, and all four 
 had a hand in it. The scene represents a backwater in the upper 
 Thames. In the foreground a lovely girl is feeding poultry, another girl 
 sits on the parapet of a terrace — birch trees — these beautifully drawn 
 by Hodgson, the poultry by your brother, swans in the river, and the 
 water lilies, by Fred. At the left corner, on a pedestal, appear the 
 initials, G.D.L., F.W., J.E.H., H.S.M., Oct. 1870. This work covers 
 the whole wall. It was retouched by Leslie, in 1887. Fred's work has 
 been glazed these twenty years past. He drew also the portrait of a 
 friend being hanged — a caricature of my brother — and other grotesques. 
 These are covered now by tapestries. The walls being new — at least not 
 being a year old — were lined with what paper-hangers call a Mining- 
 paper.' A decorative paper had been ordered from Paris ; need I say it 
 was countermanded } Hundreds of persons have asked to see this room. 
 They were never denied the opportunity. Students of Fred Walker's 
 work, and lovers of his genius, cannot fail to find delight in the spon- 
 taneous expression of his power, recorded on these walls." 
 
 On November 22, Walker wrote to Mr. North : — 
 
 "Just a line, and with apologies for not writing earlier. I've very 
 little to say. Am in the last agonies of a drawing for the forthcoming 
 Exhibition ; the sending in day was yesterday, and I have it back again, to 
 work on up to the last moment. I called at the Gallery to-day, and all 
 three hangers came out. I fancy they rather like what I've sent. One 
 or two of the better men have been asking if it's your intention to try 
 again. I said I didn't know — rather thought not^ &c. ; but, between our- 
 selves, fancy you'd have a very good chance, if you care for the nuisance 
 and risk, once more. You, of course, know best, but I can't help think- 
 ing, that such as that waterfall would have weight. I told Agnew you 
 hadn't finished it, and his answer was — he'd be glad to see it, whenever it 
 was finished." 
 
 At this Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, Walker's 
 drawings were : — ^he Ferry [sent in without title], An Amateur^ pen and 
 ink drawing of Vagrants^ and Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent. 
 The following criticism of The Ferry is taken from the Athene um for 
 December 3, 1870 : — 
 
 " Mr. Walker's anonymous drawing. No. 334, has, with abundance of 
 incident, nothing but beauty in nature for a subject. . . . This is a gem 
 of exquisite execution, the result of intense feeling for nature and perfect 
 taste. Stothard might have designed the elegant figures, but he would 
 not have wrought them out so thoroughly as Mr. Walker has done ; 
 several of them have the grace of the antique with the verisimilitude of 
 modern genre at its best. . . . The charm of this picture is completed by 
 
21 8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. xi 
 
 the richness and sobriety of its colouring, the faithful rendering of the 
 varied textures of the objects represented, the unity of its chiaroscuro, and 
 the breadth of its effect." 
 
 Of Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent^ the same writer 
 said : — 
 
 " It is wrought as perfectly as a picture by M. Meissonier, and 
 has a wealth of grace that the Frenchman never rendered ; above 
 all, pathos and a beauty of homeliness such as never appear in him." 
 
 I also find the following, in a letter from Mr. J. R. Clayton [Messrs. 
 Clayton & Bell] : — " Your drawing of The Ferry is enough to drive 
 artists to despair. I agree with the French painters now over here, who 
 are saying that, in its direction, art cannot further go." 
 
 In addition to the unexhibited work of this year, already men- 
 tioned. Walker completed a water colour drawing of the standing 
 woman from Vagrants^ which was first seen in public at the exhibition 
 of 1876. 
 
 The last letter of the year, addressed to a near neighbour, calls to 
 mind Leech's sufferings from the organ-grinding fraternity. As the 
 letter remains among Walker's papers, it may possibly not have been 
 sent. 
 
 November 25 : — "I much regret having again to call your attention 
 to this matter, but I find the cries of the bird in your garden so intoler- 
 able a nuisance, that I am compelled to speak of the matter in all serious- 
 ness. I have been much away this year, and although my mother and 
 sister both complain of their comfort having been affected by it [especially 
 when warm weather rendered open windows necessary], I am fully aware 
 that this is a trifling matter, where a pet of any kind is the cause. But 
 now I am compelled to protest once and for all against it, as materially 
 interfering with my daily work — -at all times of a difficult kind, and re- 
 quiring, if success is to be looked for, absolute quiet — and for this reason, 
 as I think I once explained to you, I had my painting room built where 
 it is. I can say with pride, that as a rule, those with whom I have to 
 deal, ever show a readiness to aid me in my work, or at least to remove 
 any obstacle to it where possible ; and I cannot, as yet, in this case 
 imagine, that it is being purposely interfered with. Surely I am not 
 asking too much, in suggesting that if it be necessary for the bird to have 
 air, that in front of your house is not less fresh than at the back. In 
 conclusion, I beg to say, I am sure you cannot have any idea of the trouble 
 this has already given me." , 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1871. 
 
 Walker's next Academy picture — At the Bar — was painted at St. 
 Petersburgh Place, and there are therefore no home letters in which he 
 relates the progress of the work. In the second week, in January, he was 
 thinking of and arranging the picture, being at the same time engaged on 
 
220 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XIS 
 
 the small version of The Plough} A letter to Mr. Agnevv, dated 
 February i6^ refers to the latter picture as follows : — 
 
 " A smaller — or rather, I should say, the original — edition of the 
 ' Plough ' will be finished to-morrow. I mention this, as I spoke to you 
 some time ago about it, and indeed think you saw it at an early stage. 
 I have up to this time refrained from showing it elsewhere, and have 
 worked on it very carefully, and consider it has all the material of the 
 larger picture, indeed would be preferred by many who have not space 
 for a large work." 
 
 Notwithstanding the above, it was nearly the middle of April before 
 the picture was finished. It was first publicly seen at the exhibition of 
 1876. Another unexhibited work, painted early in this year, was A Girl 
 Reading — a girl holding a book, seated by a table on which are some 
 flowers. In February, Walker designed the last of his invitation cards 
 for the Moray Minstrels, for which he was awarded a unanimous vote of 
 thanks, and elected an Honorary Member of that body. 
 
 The great event of the year to him, was, however, his election as 
 Associate of the Royal Academy on January 26, my brother being 
 elected at the same time. On the evening of the eventful day, his sister 
 Fanny wrote as follows : — ' 
 
 "Wall" (a model) "brought the news on a card of Orchardson's, 
 with Marks's and Wynfield's names on it. . . . Fred and Mr. Mills 
 were playing a flute duet in the study, Mrs. Mills and I had just gone 
 
 Kuhlati. 
 
 In possession of Humphrey Roberts, Esq. 
 
1871 FREDERICK WALKER 221 
 
 •down to them. My dear mother was in the house, when Eliza came 
 down to the study, and said Mrs. Wall was at the door, and wanted to 
 see him. Dear Fred looked at me with a half-awed, peculiar, earnest, 
 look. ; then left the studio. I stayed a minute to explain to the Millses 
 how I must leave them, but didn't tell them why, or what was vaguely 
 in my thoughts. Then I saw dear Fred on the stairs ; he simply said 
 * I am an A.R.A.,' and we kissed one another, feeling acutely, . . . Fred 
 went down to see Marks, with whom it was an old promise it should be 
 so on this night." 
 
 As a matter of course, letters of congratulation came flowing in. 
 What was not so much a matter of course, was the aff^ectionate tone of 
 many of them, and the reiterated assertion that in honouring Walker, the 
 Academy had done honour to itself. 
 
 Walker's election to' the Academy was followed, on February 4, 
 by his election as Honorary Member of the Belgian Society of Water 
 Colour Painters, by unanimous vote. 
 
 The customary visits to Academicians, consequent on his election, 
 rather interfered with work on At the Bar., but in a few days. Walker 
 was again engaged on the picture. His chief difficulty was, naturally, 
 with the woman's face ; his idea being that its expression should leave 
 unsolved the question of her guilt or innocence. Another difficulty 
 was in finding a suitable dock. In his search for one, he visited Salisbury 
 and other places. The Old Bailey seems best to have answered his 
 purpose, as he went there several times and made sketches. After all, 
 he does not appear to have been altogether satisfied with the material 
 for this part of the picture, as only a few days before sending in, 
 his sister Fanny made a journey to Beaconsfield to look at a dock, which, 
 however, turned out to be of no use. As usual, the members of his 
 family freely gave their services. His sister Mary stood for the face and 
 figure of the woman, and his mother roamed about London, to find a 
 hanging lamp of the kind he required. Their interest in the picture 
 was, in fact, remarkable. It was almost as if the poor hunted creature 
 portrayed on the canvas, stood before them in very truth. At night, 
 the forlorn woman in the deserted studio, was spoken of by them in 
 tones subdued by sympathy. To those who only saw the picture in the 
 glare of the Academy, this may seem like exaggeration, but it is not. I 
 was privileged to see it on the easel, and found nothing strange in the 
 effect the picture produced on them. 
 
 Walker's aversion to show unfinished work had increased very much 
 of late years, and in the case of At the Bar., it was most marked. His 
 eldest sister wrote that all the week before the picture was sent in, she 
 had had to receive people, and tell them it could not be seen. It was 
 very backward, and Walker was dismayed. On March 25, he wrote 
 to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I'm in an awful state about my work, and would like to fly to you 
 
222 LIFE AND LErrERS OF chap, xii 
 
 for a day or two, if you are still there after the ist, which is my day for 
 sending in to the R.A." 
 
 Again, on April 4 : — 
 
 " Well, the precious picture went in somehow, all its sins upon its 
 
 Study for At the Bar (water colour) 
 
 head. No one saw it, literally no one, save C. Collins and Lord 
 A. Campbell — not one buyer. Graham and others came, but I was 
 locked up." 
 
 April 12, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 
 '■'■.... No one saw my picture. I was hard at it up to the last minute. 
 
I87I FREDERICK WALKER 223: 
 
 and shall be at it again the moment I can get into the Academy, for some 
 of the important parts are unfinished ; and in any case it is my 
 intention to work at it again when it leaves the R. Academy. The 
 subject, which is no secret, I will tell you ; it is simply a figure of a 
 woman at a bar of justice, a dim suggestion of another figure — male, 
 of the usher kind — being introduced below. The size is rather smaller 
 than my last year's, so the figure comes rather large ; and the interest, 
 I suppose, centres inself in the woman's face, which is turned towards 
 the spectator, and looking somewhat upward. As I say, no one has 
 seen it, for I insisted on not being disturbed. The picture is altogether " 
 [? low] " in tone^ the shape of course upright ; and the dim head and 
 shoulders of the man below leaning on the edge of the dock, the 
 woman's dress below the bar, being shown. Title, ' The Prisoner at the 
 Bar.' " 
 
 On the very day the picture went in. Walker was working from 
 a model, on the head of the usher, and the clock from which he 
 painted, was procured for him by his mother, the same afternoon. 
 
 At the Academy, the hangers had great difliculty with the picture. 
 It was so low in tone that, as was said, *' it looked like a hole in the 
 wall." After being tried in several rooms, it was eventually placed in 
 the Lecture Room. On the first varnishing day, Walker came home 
 from the Academy dreadfully depressed, wishing he could take the 
 picture away. It was the one picture, with the exception of The host 
 Paih^ that was returned to him unsold. 
 
 In spite of those shortcomings of which Walker was conscious, the 
 high qualities of the picture were fully recognised. The Times ^ in 
 concluding its first notice of the Academy, said : — " We cannot pass 
 from the room even now, without a word of recognition for Walker's 
 At the Ba?'^ a wretched wasted woman who has had to ' hold up her 
 hand ' at the Old Bailey on a charge of life and death, and who, 
 after the agony of the day's trial, now, as the evening shadows 
 gather dark about her, turns her wasted face and wild eyes to the 
 door by which the jury enter with their verdict. One hand is clutched 
 in the agony of suspense ; the other plays nervously with a sprig 
 of the rue which it has been the custom to place on the ledge of the 
 prisoner's dock at Newgate, ever since the gaol fever decimated Bench, 
 gaol and jury-box." 
 
 The Athen^um^ after having in two previous notices, referred to the 
 picture as " heartrending and intensely powerful," and " noble and almost 
 awful," says of it : — "One of the grandest pictures in this exhibition — 
 certainly the most intense of all in its tragical expressiveness — is Mr. F. 
 Walker's life-sized figure of a woman. At the Bar [i 168] : she is dressed 
 in a modern costume, and has her hair dishevelled ; she looks forward 
 eagerly, yet with a half-vacant look that is deeply moving and profoundly 
 pitiable : the expression is supported by the attitude of the body and 
 the action of the hands, which are held in front. The largeness of style 
 
224 LIFE ANB LETTERS OF chap, xii 
 
 displayed in this work is honourable in the highest degree to a painter 
 who hitherto has exclusively used a small scale for his figures ; its gravity 
 and intensity of tone must be admired on the same ground. We do not 
 understand the extraordinary gloominess of the effect selected by the 
 artist. The picture is so badly placed that half its fine qualities are 
 certain to be overlooked by the casual passer-by. We recommend a 
 careful study of it." 
 
 It will be convenient to give here the further history of the picture. 
 After it had been received from the Academy, Walker wrote to Mr. 
 North — on August 4 : — 
 
 " I promised to write you on receiving ' the Prisoner at the Bar,' but 
 really have been so put down by it, that I scarcely like to ask you to see 
 it. I feel that it must, in effect, be done over again.'" 
 
 His sister Mary, on going into the studio one day, found Walker on 
 his knees, with the picture on the floor, rubbing down parts of the 
 woman's face and neck with pumice stone preparatory to repainting them. 
 This he never did, and the picture remained in the state here shown, at 
 the time of his death. It must be said, however, that the photograph 
 from which this illustration is taken gives no idea of what the face 
 originally was. On looking closely at the face on the canvas itself, it 
 was still possible to discern traces of what it had been, but these the 
 photograph has failed to reproduce. Possibly the depth of tone of the 
 picture, which had if anything increased in the eighteen years that had 
 passed before the photograph was taken, may have been the cause 
 of this. 
 
 When, after Walker's death, the time came to make a selection of 
 his remaining works for sale at Christie's, it was at once decided that this 
 picture could not be sent. It was accordingly warehoused, and was after- 
 wards at the private house of my co-trustee, Mr. G. G. Treherne, for some 
 years. Here it remained until he could no longer give it house-room, 
 and some decision respecting it became absolutely necessary. No course 
 was free from difficulty. The trustees had no power to present it to 
 the nation [even supposing it would have been accepted] ; to let it leave 
 their hands in its then state, was probably to expose it to unfair treat- 
 ment ; and the least objectionable course appeared to be to entrust the 
 restoration of the head to some well-known painter, preparatory to a 
 sale by auction. The question then arose, who would be best fitted 
 to undertake the invidious task. Acting under the advice of a small 
 number of artists, Mr. Macbeth, who by his numerous etchings had been 
 so closely connected with Walker's work, was applied to. He most 
 generously responded to the request, and I have learnt with great regret, 
 that his action in so doing has exposed him to censure from some, who 
 surely could not have been in possession of all the facts of the case. His 
 labour was entirely one of love, and undertaken at the earnest request of 
 the trustees. He stipulated that he should have by him at the time the 
 
I«7l 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 225 
 
 At the Bar. 
 
 « 
 
226 LIFE AND LErrERS OF chap, xii 
 
 small picture of the same subject, and the kindness of the owner of the 
 picture enabled the trustees to comply with this condition. Mr Mac- 
 beth carried out the restoration, and the picture was sold at Christie's on 
 May 4, 1889. The fact of the head having been restored, with the small 
 picture as a guide, was set forth in the catalogue, and was also mentioned 
 from the rostrum. 
 
 I conclude this account of the picture, with the following extract from 
 Mr. J. Comyns Carr's Essays on Art : — " In his treatment of the face. 
 Walker here gave evidence of a power of passionate expression that is not 
 revealed in any other of his works ; and for this reason the experiment, 
 although not entirely successful, must be regarded as of the highest 
 interest, as an indication of the probable development of his talent. Its 
 imperfections were solely due to his inability to adapt himself at once to 
 so large a scale of execution, and not at all to any defect of imaginative 
 resource. . . But those who remember the picture as it was first exhibited, 
 and who can recall the desperate and hunted aspect of the woman's 
 face, and her expressive attitude in the dock, will certainly admit 
 that a painter who could command such intensity of human feeling, and 
 who could also present the careless beauty of such a subject as 'The 
 Bathers^ must have been possessed of gifts that had not yet seen their full 
 development." 
 
 The letter of March 25, quoted from, above, was written to Mr. North 
 on his long delayed election to the Old Water Colour Society. It began 
 as follows : — 
 
 " I can't help sending you just a line, to say how jubilant I feel at 
 this afternoon's work. By a strange fluke, you were elected twice^ by 
 some mistake in the order of balloting ; and I am delighted to say that 
 the second time, you came in unanimously^ the first time nearly so. 
 With you, came in Macbeth [who has sent stunning things], Houghton, 
 Hale, and Goodwin ; the two last being landscape. H. S. Marks is 
 also elected ' on his known reputation,' that is, without sending the three 
 works." 
 
 A further extract from the letter of April 4, is here given : — 
 
 " I think you are an ungrateful wretch. I believe you are rather 
 sorry, if anything, that you were elected into ' the Society,' from the tone 
 of your letter. The Woolstone drawing is stunning, and with one or 
 two little things, may be all you desire. I think the clouds a X^ttXe: patchy 
 — you know what I mean — rather abrupt, and in isolated forms ; not 
 quite delicate enough. The notion of the figures is excellent, especially 
 the woman throwing up her arm ; and now, as I write this, it seems to 
 me that the clouds I mention, are in the other drawing, with the hill in 
 the background. But it is a trifling fault I have noticed before ; in your 
 picture of the Turf-cutter, for instance. Your Blue-coat boy, I thought 
 most charming, and only marred by one little thing — the little girl 
 
1 87 1 FREDERICK WALKER ii-j 
 
 with him was not as pretty as she might have been. I do not see 
 how I can get to Woolstone this week ; the fact is, I am in a fright 
 about the Society^ — nothing ready, and the sending in is on the 
 loth, I may commence something, with the idea of working on it, after 
 going in." 
 
 Walker gave up the idea of doing anything for this Summer 
 Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, and was unrepresented 
 there. 
 
 Owing to the fact that he was working at home for some months, 
 both at the beginning and end of 1871, there are fewer letters in this year 
 than usual. It so happens, too, that in those he wrote, there is less that 
 would be thought worth quoting. 
 
 During this summer, he spent a couple of months or so, on the 
 Thames, at Spade Oak Ferry, below Marlow. On May 14, he 
 wrote : — 
 
 " ■ . . . Have made one or two preliminaries as to work, and com- 
 mence in grim earnest to-morrow. . . . Everything is looking beautiful, 
 and most promising for work. If the wind would but change, all would 
 be well. My cold has almost left me, and I am all right." 
 
 May 16 :■ — ". . . Have been hard at the thorn bush, which is just 
 at its prime. ... I have just sketched in a water colour for Deschamps' 
 people. Shall go on with it I think — just a slight thing with a lilac 
 bush, which is not yet faded. . . . Don't put A.R.A. on letters." 
 
 The mention of the thorn bush [evidently not the first time it had 
 been spoken of] would seem to show that Walker's thoughts were 
 dwelling on The Harbour of Refuge ; this, as far as I am aware, being 
 the only picture of this period, in which a thorn appears. It is true, 
 the one in the picture is a tree, but in the case of a thorn, the terms 
 might easily have been used indifferently. Moreover, the thorn would 
 not have been in bloom the next year, until after the time at which 
 the picture was sent to the Royal Academy. In any case this would 
 only have been a preliminary study, as the background of the picture was 
 not painted here, but [as is well known] at Bray. 
 
 The drawing with the lilac bush was to develop into T/ie Old Farm 
 Garden^ an important, though unexhibited work. Walker's mention of 
 it as "just a slight thing" is another instance of the way in which his 
 subjects grew under his hand. 
 
 May 22 : — "Just a line to say I'm all right, going on comfortably 
 with work, &c. . . . The wind has gone round to the E., but it is 
 bright and not cold, but rather blustering. Yesterday was rather too hot, 
 and plenty of confounded people on the river and the banks." 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 
 
 LIFE AND LErrERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XII 
 
 
 o 
 
i87i FREDERICK WALKER 229 
 
 June 5, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "... Am not getting on quite so well with the drawing, partly 
 through this truly infernal weather. Have just been out with it, re- 
 turned with my hands quite nipped with cold. ... I should be 
 getting on tremendously, I know, if it were really warm and still. It 
 quite wears me out, watching day after day for a change. I don't 
 know who is worthy of the R.A. in the forthcoming election — must 
 think over it. . . . Shall be up as soon as this drawing will let me." 
 
 June 8, also to his sister : — 
 
 " I fear that you and the dear Missus were looking out for me 
 last night, and consequently uncomfortable at my non-appearance. I 
 am getting on rather better to-day, but the mess I got the thing into, 
 was really disheartening. I attribute it wholly to the vile weather. . . . 
 You and she will be getting weary of all this, but I do not feel dis- 
 posed to come up before I have got the better of the thing, and would 
 fain do the other too, before making my appearance. In any case, I 
 must come back for the oil picture, and please Heaven, the weather 
 will then get less wintry." 
 
 June II, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 " I want you to help me again. I came up last night, bringing 
 with me a water colour with a figure in it, of a woman knitting — 
 nearly back view, black frock with white spots [or rather little circles] 
 all over it, the frock quite plain in make — that is, plain gathers or 
 plaits up to the waist — and the sleeves like ordinary coat sleeves, rather 
 full at the shoulder, with large white collar. This is my idea of the 
 figure, which is only just put in, there being no suitable shemales down 
 thar. Now could you, without much inconvenience, come to-morrow 
 morning and stand for it ? I say ' much inconvenience,' dear, for I 
 know it will bother you, but then I know that you have offered to 
 help me whenever you can, and I want to get this off my hands soon 
 as possible. This drawing isn't anything much ; merely a bit of 
 garden belonging to a farm, with tulips and beehives." 
 
 A word may be added to Walker's description of 'The Old Farm 
 Garden. The girl as she walks has dropped her ball of worsted, upon 
 which a cat is about to spring ; a row of the beautiful old florists' tulips, 
 which the whirligig of fashion is again bringing into vogue, borders the 
 path ; there are farm buildings in the background. The drawing was 
 bought by Mr. Frederick Lehmann, by whom it was lent to the 
 exhibition of 1876. Here it was seen by Mr. Ruskin, who said of 
 it : — " No drawing in the room is more delicately completed than this 
 unpretending subject, and the flower painting in it, for instantaneous grace 
 of creative touch, cannot be rivalled ; it is worth all the Dutch flower 
 pieces in the world." 
 
230 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, XII 
 
 
 ■pm 
 
I87I 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 231 
 
 Early in July, Walker was again at Spade Oak, engaged on the water 
 colour of A Girl at a Stile^ probably " the other " drawing mentioned in 
 the letter of June 8. On July 7, he speaks of going over to Bray, to 
 " see how things are there," which may possibly mean that, by this time, 
 he had discovered the almshouses as a background for "The Harbour of 
 Refuge. In another letter, he says he is " making something of the big 
 canvas after all." This would, I believe, apply not to The Harbour of 
 Refuge^ but to the picture which has been entitled l^he Peaceful 'Thames. 
 He certainly had this picture with him at Spade Oak, as well as at other 
 places ; and though it was never finished, he would take it up now and 
 again. 
 
 About the end of July, Walker returned to London and painted the 
 water colour of The Housewife — a woman in a court-yard, shelling peas — 
 the background of which was taken from the house of his friend, Mr. 
 Charles Collins. He subsequently began an etching of this subject, not, 
 however, carrying it very far. I well remember his showing me the 
 water colour at St. Petersburgh Place. After putting it into my hands, 
 he stood by silent while I pored over it ; and when at length I spoke in 
 terms of admiration, his tongue was loosed. He was always simply and 
 unaffectedly pleased when he saw the pleasure his work could give. I 
 recall the words : " You know, John, I meant her to be a little creamy 
 sort of woman." 
 
 The Housewife. 
 
232 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xii 
 
 On September 6, Walker wrote to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 " I write to ask you to help me in a certain little matter. Mr. Wilkie 
 Collins is [as certain advertisements show] about to have produced on the 
 stage, * The Woman in White,' and there has been a little discussion on 
 the subject of a good poster ; the result being that I made at the house of 
 his brother, Mr. C. Collins, where I write this, a sketch of the said 
 * Woman in White,' and it is thought to be in some degree suitable, so I 
 propose trying my hand at the thing itself — a dashing attempt in black 
 and white. The figure ought not to be less than 4 ft, 6, or 5 ft. in 
 height ; and to my way of thinking a vigorous wood-cut would be the 
 thing, on a sheet of [pear ?] wood the size of a door. Will you help me 
 with your counsel and graver, or I might say chisel." 
 
 In another letter [now unfortunately lost], Walker wrote to Mr. 
 Hooper : — 
 
 " I am bent on doing all I can with a first attempt at what I consider 
 might develop into a most important branch of art.'' This extract is given 
 in an article on The Streets as Art-Galleries., in The Magazine of Art., for 
 May 1881. 
 
 September 11, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Pardon me for not answering sooner. I am alone in town, my 
 folks being pro tern, at Eastbourne. . . . I'm going North, and they [if 
 they've the strength enough for the villainous journey] will follow. . . . 
 Am just about knocked up trying to do a poster for Wilkie Collins 
 — his * Woman in White,' about to be produced in the theatre — but the 
 poster not a bad idea, if I can do it. A figure in white, cut out of a 
 black ground, and Hooper, the engraver, rather enters into it." 
 
 The same date, to his mother : — 
 
 " Your two letters received this morning, also a very charming one 
 from Wilkie Collins, thanking me warmly for helping ' The Woman in 
 White ' by my poster. I am going on with it, and do not think I shall 
 commence anything else before going away." 
 
 September 13 : — " I think from the tone of yours this morning, that 
 you're not quite comfortable, and it's a shame. Come home rather than 
 that ; but if you'd rather stay for a few days longer, turn out of your 
 present lodgings on receipt of this and get into better — go to the ' Sussex ' 
 or the other — you must not be annoyed if you can help it. — I fully intend 
 that you go North as soon as you're a bit braced up for it. The poster 
 is going on beautifully, and I'm expecting C. Collins every minute." 
 
 September 14, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 *' Wilkie Collins has just been, and expresses himself delighted with 
 
1871 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 '^ZZ 
 
 what I've done. I have got it on to the big paper, but not on to the 
 blocks. These I have had fastened together by a carpenter, and I don't 
 quite know whether you'd say they fit close enough. I don't like to ask 
 you to come round again, but you could tell in an instant whether they'll 
 do to proceed upon. . . I have got more ' go ' and purpose in the figure, 
 and it strikes me we shall make a good thing of it." 
 
 As far as I am aware, this poster was the first thing of the kind done 
 in England by an artist of Walker's eminence. It represents the back 
 view of a life-sized figure of a woman, a shawl partly over her head, her 
 face seen in profile as she looks back ; one hand raised with finger to her 
 lips, the other holding the door by which she passes out into the starry 
 night. The drawing was first made on paper, in chalk and charcoal ; the 
 outlines were pricked through for transfer on the wood, and the design 
 then drawn by Walker on the wood itself. The original drawing was 
 exhibited at the Dudley Gallery in 1872, and again at the exhibition of 
 1876, when, Mr. Hooper tells me, the holes made for the transfer were 
 still distinctly visible. 
 
234 LIFE ATSIB LETrERS OF chap, xii 
 
 September 15, to his mother : — 
 
 "... Had a very bad night, and feel rather seedy to-day. Have 
 not slept well at all lately. Don't care how soon I get away. . . This 
 morning a German band, long before I was up ; [really it must be seen 
 to] yesterday a lot of sheep [same time]. Eel-eye walked ofF with a 
 grouse to-day, just laid for my lunch. The wretch has been asleep ever 
 since." 
 
 Eel-eye, often mentioned in the letters, and introduced here under 
 such unpromising circumstances, was a favourite black cat, with some- 
 thing of a halo of art about him, inasmuch as he had been the model for 
 the kitten on the cradle, in Sir John Millais's picture of A Flood. He 
 survived the household of St. Petersburgh Place, and ended his days in 
 my house. 
 
 Before going to Scotland, Walker spent a few days in Derbyshire. 
 On September 23 he wrote to his mother from the Peacock Hotel, 
 Rowsley : — 
 
 "... I've been out exploring, and the place seems very stunning ; 
 not so rocky or wild as at Bakewell, if I remember rightly. I took 
 my tackle, and though I only caught a couple of grayling [something 
 like a mixture of a dace and a trout], I could see that it's a capital stream, 
 and is rather Scotch [the midges bit a little]. I shall get on better on 
 Monday, and for a day or two shall think of nothing but resting 
 myself." 
 
 September 28, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 " Here I am, and have already shaken off all little ailments and 
 restlessness. Have had one or two days' fishing for trout and grayling, 
 there being a couple of good streams in the neighbourhood. I cannot 
 resist asking after the small engraving of the * Woman in White,' though 
 I fear that you will have left town before this reaches it. Was the 
 photograph satisfactory .? Pardon a natural curiosity I feel in the 
 welfare of the poor woman, and give me a line to say how all has 
 gone off." 
 
 From Rowsley, Walker went on to Perth, where his mother and 
 sister were to join him, on their way to Mr. Ansdell's house by Loch 
 Laggan. From there he wrote to Mr. North, October 1 5 :— 
 
 " Just a line to tell you I am in the land of the living ; shall return 
 to town at the end of this week. The sport on the whole has been 
 better than I expected, because all accounts were of the gloomiest descrip- 
 tion. I had first of all some good trout and grayling fishing ; then had 
 a line from Graham asking me to go on to him, then another telling me 
 he had to rush off to his ridiculous constituents, but offering me a chance 
 on the Tay. On getting there from Perth, I found the head keeper with 
 
1 87 1 FREDERICK WALKER 235 
 
 a long face. I hadn't seen the river, but soon found it was rather like 
 coffee, so I had to go back again. This was because the river rose 
 immediately after Graham had written. However, he like a great brick, 
 gave me next day and another. Two of the fish I took were 25 lbs. each, 
 and all in prime condition for the time of year. Have taken a few trout 
 here, but it's getting too late ; that on the Tay closed on the loth. 
 Meanwhile I had to meet my folks, and we're all here together. I've 
 done no work since I left ; the poster appears to be a success. I have 
 here a photo of it ; will send one of 'em to you if I can get one. There 
 are some horrible small copies made of it I hear — lithographs — enough to 
 make one's hair stand up." 
 
 October 21, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 " I returned from the North yesterday morning, and your letter and 
 the small copy of the poster followed me this morning. Of course I am 
 much disgusted with some one [whoever it may be] for so treating me. 
 Nothing would have been easier than to copy on to the wood a photo, 
 which I am sure you would not have refused to cut. It has taken from 
 me all the interest and pleasure I felt in the thing. ... I am almost 
 inclined to send in a surprising bill for the big poster ; seeing now that 
 they forget I made it quite a labour of love." 
 
 October 24, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 " I should be glad if you could procure for me one or two copies of 
 the big poster. You'd be surprised to hear that the theatre people have 
 been too busy even to have the courtesy to send me one. I hear that the 
 play will be produced at Paris, where also the poster will perhaps be seen. 
 I suppose the lettering could easily be altered. If it goes to Paris, I hope 
 and think it will meet with better treatment than it has here. Let me 
 cordially thank you for so splendidly cutting it. I'm just off to see Miss 
 Thackeray. She has begged me to resume work with her, and I am 
 going to see about it. Would like to have your services, if possible." 
 
 The negotiations respecting further illustrations for the Cornhill came 
 to nothing ; not, it is hardly necessary to say, on account of any difference 
 between those immediately concerned. In a subsequent letter to Mr. 
 Hooper, Walker gives the reason of the failure as follows : — 
 
 "As for the Cornhill business, I fear it's all over. I have been able 
 to come to no arrangement regarding a certain question of copyright, 
 which I think I have every reason to insist upon, and without which I 
 will never again put pencil to wood." 
 
 With regard to this mention of copyright, it may be said that among 
 Walker's papers is a list of oil pictures and water colour drawings which 
 he had registered at Stationers' Hall as artist's copyright, evidently under 
 the impression that by so doing he had secured the copyright to himself. 
 
236 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. xii 
 
 The mere registration was not, of course, sufficient to effect his purpose, 
 and the subject is hardly worth referring to, except as illustrating the 
 apathy in such matters prevalent among artists as a body. It seems 
 strange that a member of the two great representative societies in oil and 
 water colour, anxious to retain the copyright of his works, should be left 
 in ignorance of the means whereby he could attain his object. One would 
 have supposed that every member of either society would, on his election, 
 be furnished with plain and simple rules, founded on the best legal 
 opinion, for his guidance in so important a matter. 
 
 The Rainy Day. 
 
 Of Walker's exhibited works this year there were but three examples : 
 At the Bar^ at the Royal Academy ; and A Girl at a Stile^ and The 
 Housewife^ at the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society. 
 He had, however, not been idle. In addition to the unexhibited 
 works already noticed, there are yet to mention The Evening Walk^ and 
 The Rainy Day. Of the former I can say nothing, never having seen the 
 drawing. The Rainy Day., though no mention of it appears in the letters, 
 was, I believe, painted at Bisham, which place is within easy access of 
 Spade Oak. It is now to be seen in the South Kensington Museum, and 
 has been etched by Mr. Macbeth. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1872. 
 
 The year 1872 will ever remain memorable in Walker's life, as that 
 in which he produced "The Harbour of Refuge ; now, by the munificence 
 of Sir William Agnew, in the National Gallery, and widely known 
 by means of Mr. Macbeth's etching. Whether or not this picture 
 be regarded as Walker's masterpiece, comparison in this respect must 
 be made with what had gone before, as no subsequent work of his 
 hand was destined to dispute the title. Let it not be supposed from this, 
 however, that his powers had reached their highest development — the 
 whole character of the man is against such supposition. Still, as this 
 was the last exhibited oil picture in which his full strength was shown, 
 one could have wished Walker's own words respecting it were more 
 numerous than is the case. It is possible some letters are missing ; but I 
 believe [the place being easily reached from town] he made no long stay 
 at Bray, while painting the background of the picture, and that the 
 absence of letters is thus to be accounted for. However this may be, the 
 reader will bear in mind that, for the first three months of the year. 
 Walker was engaged on this picture. 
 
 The first letter I have is dated January 30, and addressed to Mr. 
 North : — 
 
 " I've rather been looking for a line from you, but suppose it has 
 been work and nothing but it. You'll be glad to hear about last night's 
 election at the R.A., where two men were to come on to the Associate 
 list ; but as one of them, it was generally known, must be an architect 
 or engraver, I was chiefly interested in the election of the other — the 
 painter — and John Gilbert [Sir John ! ] came in after a somewhat exciting 
 scratch ; the highest besides him being Hodgson, Prinsep, Peter Graham, 
 &c., Marcus Stone not being well to the fore. There were others of 
 course, having their one, two, and three scratches, but I'm bound to say 
 I was quite constant to Sir John, for I consider that he has, on the whole, 
 been a most useful man, one that a beastly public has long known, with- 
 out being aware of it — you know what I mean. How many a good 
 thing of his, you and I have seen in print, recognising the man. How 
 
238 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 he has worked ! It is not because he is the President of our Society, or 
 because, as a ' sop,' he has a miserable knighthood, he shouldn't be 
 A.R.A. ; although [you'll scarce believe it] as a reason against his election, 
 it was urged that as a Knight, and the equal with the R.A. President, 
 he, Gilbert, must at once be put over the Associates' heads, and be made 
 a full member. If so, all the better, I say. ... I was anxious to be off 
 with the news for Gilbert, and rushed past Wall & Co. who were to be 
 seen wistfully standing by the railings in Trafalgar Square, to the Garrick. 
 Well, so much for that. Now let me know what you are about, and how 
 it is with you there. I don't know whether I'm on head or heels, but 
 go at it more or less every day." 
 
 March 6, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " May I ask you to help me in a little matter .? I want you to try 
 and obtain for me a scythe^ of the make peculiar to your part of the 
 country ; one with good ' line,' and with the ornament [cane is it .^] on 
 the handle. It is for my present picture [I have a reaper in full action], 
 which I think goes on as well as can be expected. I have been at it 
 deuced hard, and I think that, for me, it will be a success. These 
 beautiful days make me remember those that are gone — that I passed 
 with you. Tell me how you go on — I mean as to work — just now. Of 
 course we are all slaving away. Well, it will be over all too soon ; and 
 for me^ I think that I may possibly desire a little fishing, when this is 
 finished. What were you saying about that stream, the Exe, isn't it } 
 Would it be worth my while going in for it } Can you furnish me any 
 more information } I half think of going to Derbyshire ; but then the 
 place you named winds through fresh fields and pastures new." 
 
 March 13, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " The scythe and the flowers both to hand safely ; and a thousand 
 thanks for so kindly helping me. I was intending to write you before 
 post time yesterday, but found self too pumped out at 6. Picture going 
 on all right I think ; wish you could see it before it goes in on the 6th 
 of next month. Can I do anything for you } . . . The scythe's stunning, 
 but I shall not use the cane-work. I think it'll be a success — it's the 
 quadrangle of an almshouse." 
 
 Although there is an absence of letters bearing on the progress of 
 The Harbour of Refuge^ it is possible, by means of information supplied 
 by Mr. Orchardson, to follow with interest the development of its 
 subject. Mr. Orchardson tells me that in the spring of 1870, when 
 staying at Witley, he and Mr. Birket Foster saw one Sunday in church, 
 a group of old, bent labourers on a long bench in front of the pulpit, 
 reposing in the gleams of sunlight that lightened the gloom of the 
 place. It occurred to them that here was a scene in which Walker 
 would delight. They accordingly sent for him, he came, the scene took 
 
1872 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 239 
 
240 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 hold of him, and he said he would paint it. From this starting point, 
 by tortuous paths, The Harbour of Refuge was to be arrived at. 
 
 When, later in the year. Walker joined Mr. Orchardson in Venice, he 
 was still full of the subject — the letter will be remembered in which he 
 speaks of having plans for work in Venice. It seems strange that a 
 painter so essentially English as Walker, should have thought of trans- 
 planting to Italy an idea born of his native soil, but so it was. " Might 
 they," he one day suddenly asked Mr. Orchardson, " be Roman 
 Catholics } " — and many hours were spent in a vain endeavour to find 
 a setting for the group of figures among the splendours of St. Mark's. 
 Again he asked, " Might they be resting under the vines .'' " Mr. 
 Orchardson saw no objection, and lent Walker his gondola for a visit to 
 the mainland. After a day spent at Mestre, Mr. Orchardson met him 
 on his return. His expression of despair showed at once that the vines 
 had been a failure. Soon after this. Walker left Venice ; for no other 
 reason, Mr. Orchardson believes, than that he failed to realise his subject. 
 When next Mr. Orchardson heard of the picture, Walker had found the 
 almshouses at Bray. 
 
 Mr. Orchardson's account receives striking corroboration from the 
 position of the group of old men in the original sketch for the picture, 
 which, by the kindness of Sir William Agnew, is here reproduced. It 
 may, too, have been noticed that the letters from Venice in 1870 speak of 
 Walker making sketches in St. Mark's, and also of his intention to go to 
 Mestre. 
 
 In comparing the original design with the finished picture, it is notice- 
 able how little the old men have lost by their change of position. Their 
 personality and importance have been preserved in a manner wholly con- 
 sistent with the account of the growth of the picture out of the simple 
 scene at Witley. These figures were very real to Walker. In the little 
 man waiting to burst in with a flood of talk on any pause in the reading, 
 he took quite an amused interest. Mr. North says, in the article in The 
 Magazine of Art^ already quoted from : — " The little man in black with 
 his hands on his knees pleased the painter much ; he had a whimsical notion 
 that he might himself become just such a little figure in old age." To me 
 Walker said of him : — " He's the sort of little man who'd talk a donkey's 
 leg ofF." 
 
 After he had decided to move the old men further into the picture. 
 Walker was possessed by the idea that there ought to be a statue of the 
 founder, and wandered about London in search of one. Meeting Mr. 
 Birket Foster one day, he said in his excited manner, " I've got a founder." 
 " Where .^" said Mr. Foster. " In Soho Square." Mr. Macbeth remembers 
 being in Newman's, when Walker hurried in, borrowed a brush and some 
 colours, and made a sketch on the spot. 
 
 It may interest the reader to know that the statue, though no longer 
 in Soho Square, is still in existence. When the Square was made into 
 a public garden, the statue came into the possession of Mr. Thomas 
 Blackwell, who had contributed largely to the expense of the altera- 
 
i872 FREDERICK WALKER 241 
 
 tion. By him it was given to Mr. F. Goodall, the Academician, who 
 set it up in some ornamental water in the grounds of Grim's Dyke, 
 Harrow Weald, now the property of Mr. W. S. Gilbert, where it still 
 remains. It is supposed to represent Charles II., and is in the dress of 
 the period. 
 
 Walker appears to have materially modified his first idea of the 
 statue. In a notice of the picture in the Athena um for May 4, 1872, 
 the statue is described as " in a bag-wig, knee-breeches, buckles, and a 
 coat with wide lapels " ; a description fairly accurate as regards that of 
 Soho Square, but in no way applying to the statue in the picture. The 
 writer also refers to the picture as The Old Almshouses^ a title by which 
 it is altogether unknown. The explanation of these discrepancies is, I 
 believe, that the exigencies of the press had required the critique to 
 be prepared in advance. In that case the writer would have relied on 
 notes taken before the picture left the studio ; and as he would certainly 
 not have imagined such a figure as he describes, the statue, as he speaks 
 of it, must either have been on the canvas at the time his notes were 
 taken, or Walker must have told him his then intentions concerning it. 
 In the final rendering, little more than the pose of the Soho statue is 
 retained. 
 
 Until the evening of the day on which the picture was sent in, the 
 title had not been determined on. Mr. J. R. Clayton, to whose happy 
 suggestion the naming of the picture was due, gives the following account 
 ■of the incident : — " I called on Walker in St. Petersburgh Place to see the 
 completion of his picture for the R. A., and nearly missed my object, for 
 the work was on the point of delivery to the carman who was to take it 
 to Burlington House. I found Walker in front of the work, to which he 
 was giving slight touchings ; meanwhile he was in sore perplexity as to 
 the title it should bear in the catalogue. He had tried all kinds of 
 names, but was satisfied with none. While I stood admiring the work he 
 kept calling out excitedly, ' Clayton, there's a trump, do give it a title for 
 me, now do ! ' On the spur of the moment, I suggested ' The Harbour 
 of Refuge.' At this the effect on Walker was electrical. He at once 
 danced about in the studio, snapping his fingers and exclaiming, ' That's 
 it, you can't better that.' I pleaded for second thoughts, and the chance 
 of thinking of something better ; but Walker repudiated all attempt at 
 amendment, and thus the work obtained its name." 
 
 In the year 1884, there was still an old man at Bray — "waiting," as 
 he said, " for the end " — who remembered Walker, and pointed out the 
 window from which the background of the picture was painted. This 
 was one of the upper windows, on the left-hand side of the entrance to 
 the quadrangle. 
 
 Although certain details of the picture gave rise to some difference of 
 opinion amongst the critics, they practically agreed in their verdict on it 
 as a whole. The Times spoke of it as " most exquisite and complete," 
 the Vail Mall Gazette saw in it a " powerful and elevated piece of colour 
 and design," the Saturday Review pronounced it " after its kind a master- 
 
242 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 work," and the Athenaeum affirmed that " Mr. F. Walker's success almost 
 amounts to a triumph." 
 
 After the picture was sent in to the Royal Academy, Walker went for 
 a few days to Farningham, and while there began the water colour of The 
 Village. On April 12, he wrote to his mother from the Lion Hotel : — 
 
 "Your telegram reached me just as I was going to buy one or two 
 flies suitable for this little stream. It's a success, my coming here for a 
 day or two. . . . The stream here is quite small, and although it passes 
 in front of the house [I can see it coming through the bridge under the 
 road as I write], one has to get to some meadows in order to reach the 
 fishing belonging to the hotel. I left at about 1 1 this morning, and got 
 a brace of very pretty trout. . . . The day is lovely. This is a small 
 village, nearly, but not quite, like other places — you know what I mean. 
 Every place has a sort of individuality, but there's nothing to describe 
 here. Some miller's men come and stand on the bridge and smoke, the 
 rooks ' caw ' from some big trees, and I bought some flies at a little 
 chemist's. Am quite comfortable and quiet — shall just go on like this 
 until the varnishing days at the R. A. May do a little bit of water 
 colour from this window, on the Sawbath : the bridge, church, &c., come 
 rather well. Hope you'll both do your best to make yourselves happy." 
 
 The same date, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " There's a rumour that my ' Harbour of Refuge ' is snugly placed in 
 the big room at the R. A. My folks leave 3 St. Petersburgh for Brighton 
 this afternoon. I want to shake down comfortably at Dulverton as soon 
 as possible ; that is if I can get lodging. . . . Could only get one picture 
 for the Gallery." 
 
 Walker's one picture at the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water 
 Colour Society this year was The Escape^ completed in January. It was 
 the reproduction of an illustration to a story in Once a Week for March 
 2, 1 861, entitled The Magnolia for London with Cotton., to which reference 
 has already been made. 
 
 April 16, from London to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line to say I've got back, and find all right, and everything 
 to be desired, save the well known faces to welcome one. The apple 
 blossom is out next garden, and our own looks neat and jolly. Poor dear 
 Eel-eye has already welcomed me." 
 
 April 21, from the Luttrell Arms, Dunster : — 
 
 ". . . North came to lunch, and I decided with him which way I'd 
 best come ; in the evening went oiF to Willis's rooms, and heard a good 
 deal that was satisfactory about the picture — for instance, the exact 
 position — which is at the end of the large room, in an admirable place. 
 Perhaps you remember Millais' picture of ' Moses ' which was in the 
 
18/2 
 
 FREDERICK TALKER 
 
 243 
 
 w 
 
 R 2 
 
244 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 centre. Well, in that place there is, this year, his picture of three girJs 
 playing whist ; on either side are two somewhat unimportant pictures, 
 portraits I think ; beyond these, and on the ' line,' come Calderon's picture 
 and my own, balancing each other as it were. And the council were 
 unanimous in their praise of mine, the President especially ; and last but 
 not least. Frith, who is one of the ' hangers,' has become a convert and a 
 believer in your son's work, and speaks very enthusiastically of the 
 picture. I mention it because I have known that, although he has liked me 
 personally I fancy, he has been an opponent in effect^ and always regarded 
 my election as premature. I refrain from repeating all I heard he had 
 said, but it was very complimentary. I'll tell you when we meet. Well, 
 on getting down here, of course I inquired about the fishing, and made all 
 arrangements to get over to Dulverton on Friday, 17 miles, but a drive 
 through very beautiful country, and half of it by the banks of the 
 charming little Exe. Enjoyed the drive immensely, and my hopes ran 
 high of a little really nice fishing ; but on getting to Dulverton, I found 
 the best inn a beast of a place, squalid, no one to receive an arrival, 
 except a beery ostler brute who sauntered up ; added to all this, any 
 amount of hammering and painting — the flooring even being up — a 
 pretty prospect for a poor devil in search of peace ; the excuse being that 
 the place was ' changing hands.' I found the only other place a mere 
 pot-house, no lodgings to be had ; so after an hour or so, to rest the 
 horses, some nasty cold meat for self, took my departure, and hope I shall 
 never see Dulverton again. The driver knew of a little inn, about half 
 way back, he said, at a village not much out of the way; so I tried it, but 
 found it a wretched little cold hole, suggestive of despair and suicide. 
 Heaven knows how I should have passed to-day in either place — it's 
 actually snowing again, and as there are here and there roses out, you 
 may guess how welcome it seems. . . . The waiter has just told me that 
 there's no soup ready, because you see, ' we so seldom have visitors in the 
 winter' This makes me feel that your notion of the climate really being 
 unlike that which we had when you were a girl, has something in it ; and 
 yet, as I say, there are roses that the last week brought out, and the 
 enclosed bit of hawthorn blossom, which I picked yesterday from a tree 
 as big as that in my picture, and full of blossom, makes it, after all, quite 
 a riddle. If it's like this to-morrow, of course I shall think of going home 
 again." 
 
 The same date, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I intended sending a line by last evening's post, but being out, over- 
 shot the hour. You'll be surprised to see that I'm still here ; but I must 
 tell you that Dulverton was such a hideous failure that I simply came 
 back as I went. Tried a little village called Winsford, but saw so little 
 chance of comfort that I preferred doing the daily drive, if it so happened 
 that I stayed here at all ; and as there is a return of good old Christmas 
 weather and plenty of snow, I may prefer getting back to the delights of 
 
1872 FREDERICK WALKER 245 
 
 town. Shall see to-morrow, however. This inn is satisfactory, but I can 
 only say that my heart sank as I was set down at the best Dulverton 
 Hotel. Heavens ! what a place, not even clean, although the beastly 
 house-painters and hammerers were all over the place, flooring up in the 
 basement, &c. Was quite glad to get out of the place again. The second 
 best inn was only a little pot-house, and no lodgings to be had. I drove 
 back again, and as the distance to Dulverton is seventeen miles from this, 
 I felt quite tired of it. The only excuse at Dulverton was that the place 
 was ' changing hands.' There are two places I mean never to see again if 
 I can help it ; that place and Chard." 
 
 April 23, to his mother : — 
 
 *' Only just to say that as it's so unsettled here, I think it best to be 
 back, even if I go away again for a few days up Thames or somewhere, 
 after the varnishing. Much warmer, that's one comfort — so far from the 
 fishing too, and the fishing not so wonderful after all. Have in hand the 
 wee water colour I began at Farningham." 
 
 April 26, from London : — 
 
 '* Just back from the R. A., and it's a complete success ; it's done this time 
 I think ; congratulations all round, &c., &c. Holds its own wonderfully. 
 No need, dear, to come home until next week ; things seem to be going 
 on so well, that you are better breathing that fresh pure air," 
 
 April 29th, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " Just off to the Academy, and send a line as I may not be back 
 before 5. . . . Get whatever you want to make yourself comfortable as 
 to dress, for the private view, but be sure that whatever you wear is quiet 
 and ladylike. Not a tinge of eccentricity, mind ; I've got to loathe it." 
 
 Walker appears to have spent the next few weeks in town, and part 
 of the time was engaged on a black and white drawing for the frontispiece 
 of Mr. William Black's J Daughter of Heth. Towards the end of May, 
 he was again at Spade Oak. 
 
 June 2, to his mother : — 
 
 " The telegram confirming last evening's matter came this morning, 
 being, I suppose, too late for the easy-going rustics of these parts ; besides 
 it involved a quarter of an hour's walk in the dark, and the delicate feet 
 of the corduroy-clad messenger might have become damp, and himself 
 bedewed. So your telegram read rather funnily, this being Sunday 
 morning. Very showery, but a sweet soft wind. Have rested at home 
 all the morning, just looking at my colours, and beginning a hint of 
 something tiny, that I'm not sure of going on with to-morrow." 
 
 As Walker was constantly going up to town from Spade Oak, the 
 
246 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 letters at this time are intermittent, and the references to work are few. 
 He speaks of " touching on the little Prisoner at the Bar," " cleaning up 
 a little of the small Prisoner at the Bar " — the picture which was exhibited 
 
 Frontispiece to ^V Daughter of Heth, 
 
 at the Dudley Gallery in the autumn of this year — but beyond this, and 
 a mention of the " big canvas," presumably 'The Peaceful ThameSy 
 nothing is to be gathered as to the work on which he was occupied. 
 
 June 25, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 **...! cannot refrain from telling you how annoyed I feel at the sHghtly 
 impertinent way even has of wanting to know more of my where- 
 abouts than you choose to tell. Why, good Heaven, if I told all folks of 
 my work and whereabouts, I should have some of my ' friends and admirers' 
 sitting down to paint this very hill, in front of me. The next person who 
 asks, answer by saying I'm in Ireland, or dead, whichever you like. I 
 intend to make a point of preserving as much mystery as / like ; tell 
 people flatly that I intend to keep my movements [whenever I have work 
 with me] a matter only known to ourselves — they may guess afterwards, 
 and crib my work after it's exhibited, as much as they choose ; that I 
 cannot help. . . I have been asked by Stevenson to go to him after the 
 
i872 FREDERICK WALKER 247 
 
 5th of next month, and think I shall do so, and shall see if it cannot be 
 arranged for you and the Missus to go later, with some comfort to your- 
 selves, I am preparing another drawing tor ' Punch,' of these infernal 
 steamers — fifty must have passed this yesterday." 
 
 The above extract is worthy of notice, as supplying a reason for that 
 secrecy about his work, which with Walker had grown almost to a passion. 
 Rightly or wrongly, he believed, that in certain quarters, admiration for 
 his works passed legitimate bounds, and manifested itself in a manner 
 calculated to do him harm. It was a subject on which he felt very strongly. 
 His family in this, as in all else, loyally supported him, and were ever on 
 their guard to preserve the secrecy he desired. And thus, in all connected 
 with the scenes and subjects of his pictures, a circle was drawn round the 
 three at St. Petersburgh Place, which few were allowed to enter. The 
 contemplated Punch drawing referred to, was not carried out. 
 
 July 7, to his mother : — 
 
 " Almost too hot to write ; altogether a dreadful day. . . . The 
 picture's certainly going on, and I shall resume it directly I come back 
 from the North, but not stay here, that is, I shall have a few days at it, 
 coming down in the morning and returning each evening. It will be 
 quite up to my mark I think." 
 
 July 1 1 , from Oban : — 
 
 " Just a line to let you know I'm here ; shall stay until Monday 
 morning I think, as I fancy there are some good walks round the coast, 
 and some sea fishing not bad. Who should be here, going on to the 
 Hebrides, but Mr. Black, ' Daughter of Heth,' you know." 
 
 July 14 : — " . . . And now I'll tell you what I think of this place, 
 and begin by saying that I'm glad I'm going away. The place is lovely 
 enough — you and Fan must remember the kind of scenery — but it's 
 spoiled by a most insufferable kind of tourist, prig, monied, respect- 
 able, parsonic, element — people who stare as they pass you — a set, too, 
 who dress for the place, although it's no more than a village. And 
 don't they gorge themselves at the table d'hote dinner. There was 
 a stout, big-nosed, reverend gent last evening, who told anecdotes that 
 one was compelled to hear, so loud was his manner. He drank a deal 
 of wine, and a little later, having to go into the coffee-room to speak 
 to a waiter, I saw this abled-bodied parson at a meat tea^ provided for 
 those who come afterwards by steamer, &c. The favourite topic is 
 the different routes ; one gets sick of the names * Glencoe,' ' Fort 
 William,' &c. Yesterday there was a steamer going out from this to 
 Staffa, to a place called Fingal's Cave, and I am glad to say that as it 
 blew fresh all day, and as it was necessary to go right out to sea, some of 
 them did not come into dinner last evening ; but the aforesaid parson was 
 as good as a dozen. . . . That Eel-eye must be shot or pizened ; he'll 
 
248 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 be having the blackbird next. Or stay, instead of pizening him, he shall 
 be muzzled as dangerous. But are you sure it was a robin, and that he 
 did not find it dead .'^ . . . I hope it will be a success, this visit, and that 
 there will be something like sport. I took some little cod, whiting, &c., 
 on Friday, and went out again yesterday, but, as I said, it blew rather 
 fresh, and I did nothing. I did not want to begin with a Sunday at 
 Stevenson's, or should have gone yesterday," 
 
 July 17, from Auchineilan, Lochgilphead : — 
 
 *'..,! must tell you all about this place in my next ; suffice it 
 now to say that it's a dear little place, lovely in fact, overlooking a small 
 loch. The fishing promises to be pretty good only, nothing like some 
 that we know of However, for a few days, it will be to me a perfect 
 rest I'm sure." 
 
 Jttly 18 : — " . . . You have not received anything like a description 
 of this place, which is really very beautiful, overlooking a small loch, 
 and having solemn-looking hills on the other side ; the coach road 
 running past down below, very much like the road below Corrichoillie. 
 There is a larger loch a little way oiF — Loch Awe — thirty miles long, and 
 wider than Loch Laggan, and Stevenson has a small screw steamer which 
 is being prepared for use on the loch. To-day, we are going the 
 whole way along to the other end, by a steamer which goes backwards, 
 and forwards daily. We are going to the river Awe, which leaves the 
 loch at the other end, and which has good salmon fishing I hear. ... I 
 am feeling capitally well, and feel that this trip is doing me all the good 
 in the world." 
 
 July 19, from Taynuilt Hotel, Bonawe : — 
 
 "... We came by the loch steamer down Loch Awe, and the river 
 Awe is the stream that runs from it to the sea, and this hotel is situate 
 about midway down, and the keeper of the hotel has the right of fishing 
 one side. It's very like the Spean in parts, and the fishing is good in 
 April, and lasts till October, so altogether it's a ' find.' We're going 
 out again, S. and I, at 5, and I hope I shall have better luck ; but it 
 quite cheers me to think that, at a future time, I can get good fishing so 
 easily. . . . We go back to Auchineilan to-morrow, in time to see 
 Stevenson's own steamer put in the water. . . . I'm awfully well, and 
 shall return like a giant refreshed." 
 
 July 20 : — " I'm writing this on board the little steamer which 
 carries us back over Loch Awe to Auchineilan. I've just heard that 
 unless I do this, it will not reach you for ever so long. . . . Well, I did 
 nothing last evening, but I am fully resolved to go back again next week. 
 I'm most impressed with the wildness and beauty of that river. They 
 have been catching three and four salmon a day, in some parts, and it's 
 full of sea trout besides. This neighbourhood suits me wonderfully." 
 
1872 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 249 
 
 July 2 1 : — " I intended writing a whole chapter this evening, and 
 now the stupid time has gone by, and your old boy feels tired after this 
 prosy day. Not that there's any news. I've taken no salmon, only a 
 trout or two : my bad luck quite astonishes S., he never knew the like he 
 says. We're going up the hills to-morrow — just he and I — to some loch 
 fishing there, and perhaps on Wednesday I go back to the Awe for a day 
 or two, and then may perhaps think of going S. to my dearest Mum. 
 Bless you and dear Fan a thousand times. Your loving care at home, 
 and the feeling I have, in consequence of knowing that you are both there, 
 and that two on whom I may most fully rely, will, please God, still be 
 there when I return, is by no means the least of your boy's comfort in 
 closing this and his eyes to-night." 
 
 July 22 : — "Just one line, my dearest. Been out all day, and very 
 sleepy now. Been up among the hills with Stevenson, to some little 
 lochs there. Took six dozen small trout. . . . To-morrow shall be on 
 the loch here. There's to be some netting of the fish, and I'm anxious 
 to see the result." 
 
 July 23 : — " . . . Some fishing with the net done in the loch to- 
 day, showing what glorious trout it really contains, and I must say I 
 was astonished. You see I've done nothing here as yet : no luck, na 
 breeze, and yet it has not been very hot." 
 
 July 26, from Taynuilt Hotel, Bonawe : — 
 
 "... I'm quite disgusted with the fishing ; my luck has been so 
 bad, I am quite demoralised by it. All this morning I fished without 
 getting a single rise, except that of trout. I shall go out again in a little 
 while, but don't expect to do anything, there's been so much lightning. 
 Why, I'm told that at i o'clock this morning it was terrible, but confess I 
 was fast asleep. I know that a perfect storm of wind and rain raged here 
 
 ^V 
 
250 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 when I arrived, and to-day it's half a gale, making it most difficult to 
 keep the fly on the water, . . . I'm sorry to have had such bad luck, but 
 the change has been a very good one, and I mustn't grumble. Well, I 
 suppose 1 sha'n't write again before leaving. I get back to Auchineilan 
 to-morrow. ... 9.30 p.m. Just taken a salmon ; a handsome little 
 fellow of 10 or II lbs., lovely in shape, shall take it to Stevenson to- 
 morrow — only just time to say this. Raised two others — shall come here 
 again if I'm spared." 
 
 August 4, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... I've just come back from some fishing in Scotland, and am in 
 for some work here for some weeks. Tell me if you're coming up or 
 going down, or what." 
 
 After his return to London, Walker was engaged on the drawing 
 begun at Farningham — The Village — completing it about the end of 
 August, Already he had decided on reproducing The Harbour of Refuge 
 in water colour, and had the oil picture in his studio for a fortnight 
 during this month. He does not, however, appear to have made much 
 progress with the reproduction this year. Other work was probably the 
 Spade Oak subject, as he had had the canvas sent up to town. 
 
 September 7, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... I am still at work here, both in oil and water, in hopes ot 
 making a decent show next year, and this winter. I want to get away 
 though, and contemplate a dash of a few days to the North before settling 
 down. The afternoon before last, I went to Brighton, having on me a 
 sudden impulse to see the Aquarium there, and certainly it is very 
 wonderful ; in some respects, far beyond that at Sydenham, although very 
 incomplete as yet. I left yesterday morning by coach, and arrived in 
 town with some of the vapours blown from me. Let me know when you 
 contemplate coming up, and what work you have been about," 
 
 From his boyish days. Walker had always been fond of an aquarium. 
 Not very long after this, he had quite a large one, with a slate bed, put 
 up in the studio. It was never stocked ; nor, indeed, altogether com- 
 pleted at the time of his death. 
 
 September 14, from the Peacock Hotel, Rowsley, to his mother : — 
 
 "... Well, I've had no sport ; the fish aren't rising at all, though 
 each day may bring a change. But I've half a mind not to stay very 
 long, but push forward N, Of this I'll give you notice either by 
 telegram or letter. To-morrow I shall do a little bit of work, I hope, 
 that I mentioned before starting. . . . This place has some very good 
 bits about it ; but has the same objection to it that I found at Oban, 
 viz. a tendency to be bothered by amiable, monied, and highly respect- 
 able tourists — people who go to Haddon and to Chatsworth, and who 
 
FREDERIC! WALKER 
 
 251 
 
 
 
 
 •J Q 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
252 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiii 
 
 just now seem to affect fiery-red shawls, and a loud gossiping way of talk, 
 and who stare besides — the females these, the men one needn't mention. 
 Of course I may go on to Graham if 1 get so far as Kelso ; will see. But 
 meanwhile, know ye both that I am well and happy, and at this moment 
 tired with tramping about in long grass in my ' waders ' all day. ... I 
 truly hope you will both make yourselves as comfortable as possible, sa 
 far as the resources of the little place permit." 
 
 September 1 8 : — " ... I am getting sick of having no sport. I've 
 just telegraphed both to Graham, and to the people at Taynuilt. Of 
 course it's probable that both the Tay and the Awe are not in good 
 order, and in that case I shall come straight home. You ought both tO' 
 go somewhere ; you'd have nothing to do here, unless it were wading 
 through wet grass. It's blowing a bit, too, now ; and I can only say that 
 if it weren't that I don't think I've quite set myself up for the next six 
 months' work, I should come home to-morrow. I'm quite well, though ; 
 I mean feeling an absence of all seediness that I've so often complained of 
 lately." 
 
 September 20 : — " Your letter at any rate makes me decide upon 
 remaining here until Monday. Whether I then go North, or return 
 home, will depend a little on a letter that I shall expect from Graham 
 by Monday. You see I don't like spending more money than I can help ; 
 but, as you say, I had better do all I now can, to help me to the hard 
 work I must go in for when I get back." 
 
 September 22 : — "Just a few lines to tell you of my movements — my 
 ' autumn manoeuvres'. . . . You had better send a telegram to Pople's 
 Hotel, Perth, to-morrow, so that I shall get it on my arrival to-morrow 
 night. A telegram from Graham came last evening while I was at 
 dinner, offering me one of the beats on the Tay for Tuesday, the only 
 day available for that particular beat. ... I only took one trout again 
 yesterday ; should have done well, I think, for the fish were rising, when 
 a sudden storm came on. A flash of lightning went off close to me, like 
 a gun, then an awful peal of thunder. It was so close that I fairly bolted, 
 putting my fishing things under a bush. . . . I've begun a bit of work 
 that'll pay expenses, I fancy." 
 
 Of the subject of the " bit of work " referred to, there is no record. 
 
 On his return to town, after only a few days in Scotland, Walker 
 began the drawing of A Fishmonger s Shop^ considered by many to be 
 his highest achievement in water colour dealing with an original subject. 
 On October 29, he wrote to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I'm working hard at a fishmonger's shop, with a great slab of 
 fish, and a fair buyer ! " 
 
 In making sketches of the shop, he worked from the inside of a 
 
«. 
 
 >^ 
 
 s 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
1872 FREDERICK WALKER 253 
 
 four-wheeled vehicle — cab or brougham — and again found a model for 
 the female figure, in his sister Mary. Accounts differ as to the locality 
 of the shop. The drawing was subsequently etched by Mr. Macbeth, 
 and in the circular announcing the etching, it was positively stated that 
 the shop was situate in Arabella Row, near Buckingham Palace ; but on 
 what authority, I am unable to ascertain. No single site, however, 
 furnished all the material which Walker required. My own impression 
 [confirmed by Mr. North] is that the slab of fish was taken from a shop 
 in Bond Street. Mr. North also tells me that a shop at Hampton 
 Court suggested the cornice and balustraded entablature. 
 
 At the Winter Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, the 
 ■drawing was well received. The Saturday Review^ after taking exception 
 to the subject as " unsavoury," said : — " No display is less agreeable to 
 the senses than a shop-front full of fish, and yet by skilful art treatment, 
 dependent on a harmony of colour, on balance of composition, on 
 illusive realism, and on cunning dexterity of pencil, a perfect triumph is 
 gained." Athen^um : — "The showboard is loaded with superbly painted 
 fish of all kinds, of all degrees of lustre and colour, an aggregate of gems, 
 the splendour of which has rarely been approached. . . . This is a little 
 masterpiece of colour, both local and general." The criticism of the 
 Times, was so appreciative, that, at the risk of wearying the reader, it is 
 here given in full. " If we want a contrast with Sir John Gilbert in 
 every point of character and power, we may find it in Mr. F. Walker, 
 another Associate of the Academy, who ranks as high in water colour 
 as in oil. In him exquisiteness of finish, the subtlest pictorial feeling, 
 and the most delicate sentiment of grace and refinement, replace the 
 facility of conception and arrangement, the dash and vigour of execution, 
 and the enjoying sense of the picturesque, which carry us over much 
 that is commonplace and careless in the work of Sir John Gilbert. Mr. 
 Walker's power is of that fine order which can find food in any subject, 
 however, at first blush, unpromising for refined treatment. Thus he has 
 here made a perfectly delightful drawing [330] out of an old-fashioned 
 fishmonger's stall, such as may still be found in many a London suburb. 
 By throwing his figures into the costume of sixty years ago he escapes 
 from the familiarity which often jars with artistic association, besides 
 getting an opportunity for showing his peculiar secret of grace in the 
 figure of a lady and boy in the fashion of 18 10, the unbecoming nature 
 of which, in the lady's case at least, the painter's exquisite feeling has 
 completely overcome, and, indeed, converted into an attraction. The 
 boy pauses, hoop in hand, to look at the eels in their large earthen pot ; 
 the smiling old fishmonger is leaning forward to verify his customer's 
 choice. The long and low-browed front of the shop is painted a 
 weather-beaten green, on the ledge of which stands a row of red flower 
 pots, with creeping plants. This combination of reds and greens, 
 charming in its subtleties and refinements of colour, serves as the frame, 
 within which, relieved against the dark back-ground of the ill-lighted 
 interior, is displaved the rich lading of the great wooden slab, with the 
 
254 
 
 LIFE AND LErrERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XIII 
 
 metallic green of mackerel, the silver of salmon, the shot sheen of 
 herring, the rose of red-mullet, and all the intermingling russet and 
 golden browns and purples of gurnets and plaice and perch, and other 
 fresh and salt-water fish, flashing and playing into one another with a 
 splendour due to nature, but a subtle harmony of arrangement due to the 
 painter. This splendour of colour is concentrated by the mellow green 
 of the painted woodwork, and supported by the piles of baskets, of 
 whose rich browns the painter has made the most artful use, while the 
 great earthenware eel-pot, catching the full light, gives the key-note to 
 the highest passages of colour. We can remember nothing of the 
 painter's more strikingly showing his artistic instinct than this drawing, 
 or more worthy of close study by those who wish for an illustration of 
 the wealth of pictorial subject-matter lying unused and unsuspected 
 around them. The grace of the woman and boy is so much thrown 
 in by the painter beyond the suggestions of the fishmonger's shop, and 
 is just what we should not have had in a Dutch version of such a 
 subject." 
 
 The drawing — i^^ by 2 2f inches — was purchased from the easel by 
 Mr. Frederick Lehmann, for the sum of 600 guineas. 
 
 December 5, to Mr. Stevenson : — 
 
 "... The Fosters intend to have another jollification at Xmas, and, 
 entre nouSy something on a complete scale in the theatrical line is contem- 
 plated, into which your humble servant is drifting. The accompanying 
 wood-cut and sketch require some explanation. The wood-cut — but per- 
 
1872 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 255 
 
 haps you may have seen it before — was a caricature of a certain offensive 
 person on the Thames, whose vile steamer was the detestation of every- 
 body, and whom I christened Capt. Jinks. I have often spoken strongly 
 of steamers on the Thames, where they are utterly out of place ; but the 
 sketch, which is a caricature of my caricature, was sent to me by some one 
 I suspect to live not 100 miles from Witley, after I had been in your 
 yacht on Loch Awe — too cruel, was it not ? Your steamer is quite in 
 keeping on a vast lake ; but our friend Jinks is the leader of a thing that 
 will eventually be the ruin of our sweet Thames." 
 
 The Christmas merry-makings at Mr. Birket Foster's hospitable house 
 had always been thoroughly enjoyed by Walker, and he probably drifted 
 into the theatricals without reluctance. From a programme before me, I 
 learn that the pieces played were The Birthplace of Podgers^ and Fish out 
 of Water ; Walker taking the part of " Mr, Erasmus Maresnest [a 
 Literary Enthusiast]," in the first piece. How he acquitted himself \ 
 do not know ; but Mr. Orchardson tells me that at these gatherings 
 Walker would sometimes show great power of assuming and sustaining a 
 character by himself, and with but little aid from " make up," On one 
 occasion, he came into the room as " Major Walker," with whitened hair 
 and eyebrows, and a high collar, and deceived every one. At such times, 
 with the throwing off of his own character, his natural shyness and 
 nervousness would disappear. 
 
 The scene for the second piece — a library — was painted by Walker, 
 A year or so ago, it was disposed of at public auction, together with 
 other scenery which was painted by Mr, Birket Foster. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 1873 
 
 There were doubtless times during the gaieties at Witley, when 
 Walker's thoughts turned to his plans for serious work. In a letter from 
 his mother, dated from Milford on the first day of the New Year, there 
 is evidence that the picture to which a peculiar and pathetic interest 
 attaches, had been by this time determined on — the unfinished picture 
 which has been named 'The Unknown Land. So great an interest indeed, 
 does this "glorious subject," as Walker calls it, possess in itself, that 
 there is no need to endeavour to enhance it by reading a special meaning 
 into the title, or by supposing the picture to have been conceived at a 
 time when he felt that his health was failing. The title was, after all, 
 merely suggested as a probable one ; while he worked a great deal on the 
 picture before his health had unmistakably begun to fail. At what period 
 his family were first seriously anxious about him, I never knew. On such 
 a subject they were silent, as if in dread lest the utterance of their fears 
 should bring about a confirmation of them. Not for some time to come 
 was there any outward sign of change ; and if here and there in this year's 
 letters there seems a plaintive tone, subdued, sad, and of an added gentle- 
 ness, solicitude for his mother may have been the cause. However this 
 may be, she was with him now, to send him New Year's greeting in these 
 words : — 
 
 " My dearest Son, I cannot but think of you, since you left, your 
 continual patience and never failing kindness to me, and so many others 
 have come to my mind in full force. May God bless you and return it 
 tenfold, this is no hackneyed sentence, my dear, but in the fulness of my 
 heart I mean it. . . I will go home strong to help you, my Fred, in all I 
 can, you will I know say how, frankly as to a dear friend and grateful 
 Mother." 
 
 Walker's efforts in the histrionic line had left him rather overdone. 
 On January 2, he wrote to his mother : — 
 
 "... Am feeling the result of the last week a good deal to-day, 
 slightly languid and low — shall be all right in a day or so, but wonder 
 
1873 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER 257 
 
 that I feel so well, considering how little rest I had — won't do it again in 
 a hurry." 
 
 And on January 4, to Mr. Hooper : — 
 
 "... I have just returned in a perfectly battered condition, from a 
 terrible bout of private theatricals and scene painting, and find your letter 
 looking me reproachfully in the face, from the table where I left it in the 
 hurry of my departure." 
 
 The tone of a letter to his mother on the same date is, however, 
 more promising as regards work : — 
 
 " No news, and no letters. Am getting into harness again, thank 
 goodness. Dined at Garrick Club last night, and was asking an old 
 member about Dawlish, Teignmouth, &c., and fancy from what he said, 
 I shall have to go perhaps to Plymouth, or even to Cornwall. Am not 
 sorry to be on dry land during this rough weather. Shall give up the idea 
 of a voyage to Canaries ; it would take a v/eek each way at least, which 
 I cannot afford. May go again to Canterbury too, and use my old subject 
 of the little pale boy watching near a grave. Shall alter it to an old 
 woman busy with some bright flowers on a green mound — the boy there, 
 as in my first notion. A beautiful bit there is at a corner of Canterbury 
 Cathedral. Am going to work very hard." 
 
 .11^ 
 
 Though again in Walker's thoughts, 
 the old subject of the boy near a grave 
 was not to be taken up. More press- 
 ing work lay before him in The Un- 
 known Land, the picture indicated by 
 the reference to Dawlish and Teign- 
 mouth in the foregoing letter. The 
 subject of this picture — mariners, after 
 a long voyage, arriving at an un- 
 known shore, and beaching their boat 
 with feverish eagerness — was itself a 
 development of an old idea. In the 
 illustration to The Settlers of Long 
 Arrow, in Once a Week for October 
 12, 1861,^ the sweep of the bay, the 
 position of the boat, and the figure 
 of a boy coming up the beach, are 
 clearly the forerunners of the water 
 colour studies for the picture ; and^ 
 as has already been mentioned, the 
 illustration was in Walker's studio at 
 the time of his death. For the carry- 
 ing out of the subject, a sojourn at the coast was necessary ; hence the 
 inquiries of which Walker speaks. Further inquiry, however, seemed 
 
 See page 29. 
 
258 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 to point to Lul worth as more likely to suit his purpose, and to this 
 place he went on January 12. 
 
 January 13, Cove Hotel, Lulworth, to his mother : — 
 
 "By this you'll have received my scrawl of yesterday at the station 
 at Wareham, and I found that it was a ten mile drive here, so I did not 
 arrive until after dark, rather tired, but none the worse, and took a little 
 stroll to the Cove which looked in the moonlight very good, but not 
 answering every expectation, and I'm afraid I shall have to go on further 
 for some of the * material.' However, the water looked limpid and 
 clear, as it broke on the little beach that glistened in the moonlight. 
 Later, the wind seemed to get up, and during the night seemed to reach 
 a gale, with rain. This morning is rough, and with a grey sky, and I 
 haven't yet gone out, for if it must be confessed, I was troubled in the 
 night with a very unromantic pain in my foot, ... 1 am forced to 
 think that it is a touch of gout. This is a very quiet village of a few 
 houses, and this * Hotel ' isn't palatial^ but isn't uncomfortable. . . . 
 I sha'n't think of leaving this until I've done somethings if only a sketch, 
 although I may find it possible to work most of it here ; but the shipping 
 element is quite wanting, only a few small fishing boats being visible, and 
 those hauled up from the water while it's so rough." 
 
 January 14 : — " I have just come in from making some little mems. 
 and sketches, and shall begin a design from them directly I send this 
 off. ... I have been hobbling about and getting a notion of the place — 
 feel that I shall make something of it, and am eager for the fray. 
 I fancy that this precious foot is all produced by that hard work 
 and anxiety at Xmas, and it will be a lesson. . . . When the wind 
 blows from the N,, I am told that this little Cove is like a millpond ; 
 and with a good blue sky overhead, it must look very lovely. A 
 beautiful little brook of crystal water runs into it, which of course I mean 
 to paint." 
 
 January 15 : — "The easel has arrived, the foot is almost well, and I 
 have decided on staying, and going at it here as hard as possible. I've 
 been this morning for a walk to a place where there are some fine rocks 
 standing by themselves in the sea ; and altogether I feel that there is, or 
 ought to be, quite enough to work from, here, and I'm just going to 
 undo the canvas and put it together. ... I shall be able to work partly 
 in a boat house on the beach, belonging to the coast guard. Don't tell 
 any one where I am. North excepted, and ask him from me not to 
 mention it." 
 
 January 1 8 :— " . . . By this post I have sent a letter to Newman's 
 in Soho Square, directing them to prepare immediately a stretcher for my 
 picture, 6 ft. by 4 ft., which is a little bigger than the one I brought 
 down, but not too big for the canvas I have begun on. The reason I 
 mention this is, that I have in my letter to them requested that they 
 
i873 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 259 
 
 s 2 
 
26o LIFE A:N'D letters OF chap, xiv 
 
 would immediately let you or Fan know the exact hour when it will be 
 finished, that you may either call or send for it, taking it on to Waterloo, 
 thus losing no time ; besides I want you or, Fan to write the address 
 label, which may be tied on at Waterloo. You know there won't be 
 any mistake then, besides I don't want the ' A.R.A.' to be scrawled all 
 over it. . . . To-day is bright, and if the wind would but go down, I 
 should at once try to make a study of the sea. Shall have to press into 
 my service the coast guard men and their boat, indeed they seem about 
 the only folks about [thank goodness], and I've already permission to 
 work from their boat house. I had to engage their services in a manner 
 that made me feel like a fool. My macintosh blew into the sea while 
 I was making a little sketch, and I was powerless to rescue it, with my 
 game foot, and saw it being carried right out ; so had to limp up to the 
 little row of houses where they live, and ask their help, and they went 
 off in a boat for it, to the tune of a * bob ' each." 
 
 January i8, Saturday night : — "It's a pouring, dreadful, night here ; 
 goodness knows how long this is to last. I'm getting sick of this rough 
 weather, and begin to long for a little quiet, though it might be colder. 
 I cannot help thinking of the poor souls out at sea. I don't get on quite 
 so well in the evening, as I could wish, with my work, because there 
 doesn't seem to be even an oil lamp in the house ; two candles don't 
 give me light enough, and I think you'd better send one of those reading 
 lamps, if you can spare it. . . . Shall make something of this picture, I 
 hope, but am fidgeting at not getting on quicker. ... I feel as if I'd 
 been away a month. Shall not be sorry to get this picture into such 
 a state as will bring me back to work in the barn. . . . Pouring cats and 
 
 dogs. Sunday morning. Yours enclosing 's just come. . . . You 
 
 see by his letter he^s a gossips and I'd very much rather have no one 
 coming down here, through being told by him, I'm here. One of my 
 ' followers ' that he speaks of I mean, and there's plenty of time for 
 any one who hasn't anything particular to keep him in town, to come down 
 here for a subject. It has been an awful night, and this morning is dark 
 and wet. I can see the ' white horses ' tearing into the entrance of the 
 Cove. . . . Your little line of this morning gives me the idea of being 
 written in low spirits. Keep up, my dear, as well as possible, for the 
 sake of your loving F." 
 
 January 20, Weymouth' : — " Such a beast of a cold blustering day, I 
 thought I'd come over here to have a look at the ships, of which there 
 are plenty in Portland Bay. . . . I've been thinking of introducing in my 
 picture some shrubs or trees, just seen in the foreground ; and directly I 
 get back [next Monday], I think of going to the Botanical Gardens, 
 Regent's Park, to see if there are any orange trees^ aloes, or palms ; in 
 fact anything that I might 'go in ' for, that is to be found in a hot-house, 
 and there is a splendid one at the Botanical Gardens. If Fan can spare 
 the time, . . . she might even go to the Gardens for an hour, perhaps 
 
1873 FREDERICK WALKER 261 
 
 with Poll, and report to me whether there are any good orange trees, &c. 
 ... I only wish the weather would get calm. There. was a little snow 
 in the night, which isn't all melted in the hollows and in the shade. You 
 know I hate snow, and I get sick of hearing the wind. It seems clearing 
 up a bit now ; shall venture forth." 
 
 January 21, Lulworth : — " The stretcher, &c., and letters and paper, 
 arrived safely this morning, and a thousand thanks. Am hard at work ; 
 have stretched the canvas, and will not let anything interrupt me. . . . 
 Wind changed, and shall hope for smooth water now. Yes, send the 
 lamp, as I must work at certain sketches at night. . . . My only chance 
 is in working hard — getting to bed pretty early, which I do here." 
 
 January 23: — "Box arrived safely at noon. All right, nothing 
 broken, thousand thanks, no time for more, best love, F." 
 
 January 24 : — " All right ; am hard at it^ and feeling more hopeful 
 about it. , . . Don't think I shall come up till Tuesday — no need to — 
 and every hour here is of importance. There's a train reaches Waterloo 
 at 5.30, which will be time enough I think for the meeting, which is at 
 7.30. The lamp is a great comfort." 
 
 The meeting which brought Walker to town was for the purpose of 
 electing three Associates to the Royal Academy. Walker was not one to 
 shirk the duties which his connection with the Academy and the Old 
 Water Colour Society imposed on him. He returned to Lulworth the 
 day after the election. 
 
 January 30 : — " A beast of a day this, snow that just now doesn't 
 stay, but I know that as soon as the evening comes on, it will get colder, 
 and I'm afraid that we shall have it pretty deep to-morrow. I've plenty 
 to do indoors, and I certainly shall make a movement in a day or two, to 
 see first what Beer is like ; and I have come across a photo, among those I 
 brought down, of Anstey's Cove, and I can plainly see that in some 
 respects it will suit me better than this, so I shall probably go on to Torre 
 or Torquay, whichever is most suitable, and probably hire a bathing 
 machine to work in. Shall go at it hard any way ; won t give up if I can 
 help it. . . . Am quite well, and more hopeful about my work." 
 
 January 31 : — "Shall leave to-morrow at 11, for either Beer or 
 Torquay [I think the latter] — can't make anything more of this Cove, 
 and am sick of the discomfort and bother of the little place. May 
 possibly come back for the little stream, but shall be able to tell later." 
 
 February 2, Torquay : — " I reached this at about 6 last night, feeling 
 tired and disgusted with the journey, which was a very tiresome one, be- 
 cause there were so many changes — besides one long coach drive, two 
 ditto omnibus [from station to station], making the journey infinitely 
 
262 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 more wearing, and longer in time, than if I'd come from Bayswater — and 
 all this to find it cold, pouring wet, and a tearing wind from the E. I 
 took a walk last night, and thought a great deal about the position of 
 affairs ; and having been to-day to see Anstey's Cove, I have come to the 
 conclusion that I cannot do better than take my own time over this 
 glorious subject, and give up the idea of having it in this Academy Exhi- 
 bition. I do not think I should be doing myself justice in going on with 
 it against time ; and when I remember what may be made by a combina- 
 tion of Lulworth and Anstey's Coves in warm still weather, compared with 
 the almost overwhelming difficulties of rough dark weather and bitter 
 cold wind, I'm sure all sensible men would say I'm a fool to persevere. 
 The landscape and sea I might get through with, but I am desirous of 
 making the figures all important, and have a scheme in connection with 
 it, that I cannot carry out now. The pluckier course in short, is to make 
 it as fine as my powers will allow me. 
 
 " At this moment I am undecided whether to stay on to make one 
 or two studies that will help me at home, or to come up on Tuesday ; in 
 any case, I would like to fix on one or two little matters to-morrow at the 
 cove, there's a sort of wood house down on the lovely beach, for instance, 
 where I might work, and to-day being Sunday, could find no one there. 
 The beach and the headlands are far finer than Lulworth I think, but then 
 the cove has not the beautiful circular sweep that the water at Lulworth 
 takes, nor the stream of fresh water, but between the two, I know I can 
 make it all I want. The sea to-day, instead of having a gentle ripple on 
 to the beach, was thundering in in a manner quite frightful, and clay- 
 coloured, instead of green and limpid. . . . You mustn't imagine that 
 I've given up any idea of sending at all to the Academy — there's yet time 
 for me to go on with what I intended doing, but I am confident that this 
 is the best course to pursue with regard to this big one, and a big one it 
 shall be before I've done with it. 
 
 " I naturally felt a little dispirited as I walked about in this place, last 
 evening especially, but am not sorry I came. I thought of bygone times 
 with a feeling that, alf things considered, what was done here was certainly 
 for the best — a sad time enough for you both." 
 
 Walker left Torquay on February 5, and spent the next four weeks 
 in London. This prolonged stay in town, at a season when his plans for 
 the Academy would seem to have necessitated work in the open, may 
 possibly have been due to the occurrence at this time of a " break down 
 in the spring," mentioned in a subsequent letter. At the beginning of 
 March, he went once more to Woolstone. 
 
 Of the work, if any, on which he was engaged while in town, there 
 is no record. I believe the words " what I intended doing " referred to 
 The Peaceful Thames, as he certainly made an effort to send this picture 
 to the Academy, and may have worked on it during his stay in London. 
 The first letters from Woolstone, however, do not apparently relate to this 
 picture, but to the large canvas intended for Mushroom Gatherers — pre- 
 
1 873 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 263 
 
264 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 sumablythe "Grand Landscape, painted in Somersetshire," now in Mr. 
 Leslie's possession, of which he speaks in Our River. It would ahnost seem 
 as if, after laying aside the Torquay canvas, Walker had a little lost 
 heart ; and though he worked on both Mushroom Gatherers and The 
 Peaceful Thames^ it was apparently without any very sanguine expectation 
 of having either ready in time for the Academy. In addition to these 
 two oil pictures, he had with him at Woolstone the Fishmonger s Shopy 
 received from the Old Water Colour Society for further work, and was 
 also engaged on the small version of the same subject. 
 
 March 5, Woolstone : — " All right, as you may guess ; got here at 
 9 last night, and found North waiting at the station. Hope you had my 
 telegram from Taunton. To-day has been most lovely, and I have fairly 
 got to work, and only left off at dusk." 
 
 March 6, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "... The place is just the same here as usual — the gentle meadows, 
 the birds singing like mad, and the same knowing old dog who gave me 
 a cordial welcome. Mrs. Thorne too, just as if I'd never left the place. 
 Well, it's a rest certainly, only I hope it isn't selfish to leave home cares 
 behind me." 
 
 March 9, to his mother : — 
 
 "... Have been working at the ' Fishmonger ' to-day, and part of 
 yesterday, as some of the big picture is wet, and I cannot go on as I wish 
 until it's quite hard, which will be to-morrow I think. Weather warm 
 but showery, nothing to complain of ; shall be able to tell you more of the 
 picture to-morrow or next day. . . . I'm quite well and jolly. Of course 
 I wish I could tell you more about the picture, but we agreed that it 
 would be of no use to worry one's self about it. As you say, I ought to 
 make the most of this truly beautiful fresh air, and I do." 
 
 March 10 : — " . . . Have been finishing up the ' Fishmonger.' 
 Weather here very windy and showery, so have not been working out of 
 doors ; besides a lot of paint on my canvas I am awaiting to get dry. 
 Self and North all right. Have done a lot to the ' Fishmonger ' to-day, 
 and have told Lehmann that he'll see a great improvement." 
 
 March 1 1 : — " I have been getting at the big picture again, although 
 I have not taken it out of doors — there has been half a gale blowing, and 
 I had a lot to go on with. Altogether, I cannot say I am as hopeful as 
 I ought to be about it. You see I've not had a good chance yet out of 
 doors ; but if to-morrow is fine and pretty calm, shall go at it all day, 
 for it is at length in a good state for taking out." 
 
 At this time, Mrs. Walker was far from well, and the next letter is to 
 his sister Fanny. 
 
i873 FREDERICK WALKER 265 
 
 March 1 6 : — " I don't know what to say about leaving this, but 
 expect it will be on Tuesday. ... I hope you had my telegram last 
 night. We walked to Williton and I sent it about 20 or half past 7. 
 What a night it was ! It seemed too bitter even for snow ; but before 
 we went to bed it had begun to fall, and it's coming down quite thick, 
 all to-day, and there seems to be a tendency in the snow to come from the 
 W., so perhaps we shall have another change. 1 haven't done all I want 
 here, but it would be silly to remain if the weather keeps bad ; can easily 
 take it to Marlow for a day or two at the end of the time, returning to 
 town in the evening. Been wondering so much how my dearest Missus 
 is to-day, hope she will go on as we expect she will." 
 
 Same date, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 "... Well, I've worked very hard here, and persistently too ; but 
 to-day makes me think that it's all up with any more open air work for 
 the present. Must show it to you directly I get back ; want your help 
 with a dress of a girl in the Mushroom picture. It's snowing hard enough 
 now, and I only fear it may interfere with the mail cart to Taunton." 
 
 On March 18, Walker went up to town, taking the picture with him. 
 
 March 19, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " According to our arrangement, I write to tell you how I have gone 
 on, and how the Mushroom picture looks. You'll understand when I 
 say that I have used nothing but benzine and rag this morning, on the right- 
 hand side, both above and below the * broom ' bush, and it looks all the 
 better for it already ; altogether it looks about as satisfactory as I ex- 
 pected. I am by no means sure that I can finish in time ; shall go on 
 quietly. It was a great mistake to deepen that side of the picture so 
 much ; quite destroyed the look of reflected light that it ought to have. 
 Am still greatly pleased with what I did on the ' Fishmonger's Shop ' 
 while with you. ... A beast of a day this ; shocking bad light, and a 
 devilish N.E. wind that moans and groans. Am pestered to death with 
 models who want the sitting at the R. Academy. My Mother is by no 
 means so improved as I could wish — she seems very prostrate, and my 
 sister looking anxious and harassed." 
 
 March 24, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... You will like to hear of my progress with the picture ; and 
 although I have kept to it most constantly, I fear I must say that I begin 
 to give up all hopes of doing enough to it to warrant me in sending it to 
 the Exhibition. It's useless to shut one's eyes to what may be done at a 
 time when one hasn't to battle with everything — want of light, want 
 of nature to work from, want of everything save hurry and worry. God 
 help me, there's enough of that ; the wretched models even are all 
 engaged by Jones and Smith, although they can find time to literally 
 haunt the place in quest of this Academy sitting. I don't feel that I am 
 
266 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 doing myself justice in going on in this delirious fashion, though I don't 
 for a moment regret having carried it as far as I could under these circum- 
 stances. Yesterday I went so far as to think I'd not go to the meeting at 
 .Pall Mall to-day, but my good sister persuaded me to give up at 2 
 o'clock, and go to the ' election of Associates,' and there wasn t one ! 
 Understand that there was no one elected. I do consider it a bad sign, 
 .going into that gallery and not being able to feel comfort in looking at 
 the precious things extending right round the walls of the gallery. The 
 most powerful of the contributions were by the rising school ; you know 
 already the names I could mention — a brother of some one already in the 
 Society, and two men who seemed to copy the faults of others, again in 
 the Society — so who can be blamed for thinking that we have enough of 
 it without bringing thern in } There was the usual stuff, so bad that one 
 could even smile at it ; but it was not a flattering or comforting thing for 
 the Society." 
 
 Walker returned to Woolstone on Saturday, March 29, having only 
 a week in which to finish anything he intended sending to the Royal 
 Academy. 
 
 March 30: — "On reaching Taunton, I couldn't help sending the 
 telegram, which I hope was received before you had ' retired.' 1 felt very 
 tired and very low-spirited during the whole journey, but, thank God, I 
 had a thoroughly good night's rest, and this morning had a sensation 
 of renewed hope about this picture ; but I shall not think even about 
 Saturday, shall go at it each day early and late, and I know that I can 
 thoroughly rely on North's opinion as to sending, when the last moment 
 arrives, if I am then undecided. The young girl he mentioned will do 
 very capitally, and is each day at my service, thanks to North's arrange- 
 ment. The rain came on to-day, while I was attempting a short sitting 
 from her in the orchard at the back of this house, and I have since 
 worked indoors. Am quite thankful to have been away from all the 
 bothering ' callers ' to-day. I hope and pray, my dearest Mother, you 
 will keep getting better ; the one and only thing for you is quiet, and no 
 anxiety about others : you at any rate have the knowledge that 1 at least 
 am in the right place, and am feeling much more myself than I did all 
 last week." 
 
 April I : — " All right, just come in, and can scareely see. I want 
 Fan to go to Spooner's, corner of Wellington Street and Strand, and ask 
 for some photos of sheep and lambs, and send them on at once. Have 
 worked like a nigger, and am hopeful. The ' Telegraph ' can say what 
 it likes, but I don't happen to be painting ' Mushroom Gatherers ' — by 
 this you'll see I have altered my subject, and have still the Mushrooms 
 for another time. Mail-cart's due. No more save love." 
 
 This change of subject, so late in the day, would seem to show that 
 Walker could have had but faint hopes of sending anything to the 
 
i873 FREDERICK WALKER 267 
 
 Academy. It is curious, too, as bearing on his frame of mind at the 
 time, that though he speaks of having given up the Mushroom Gatherers^ 
 he still asks for photographs of sheep and lambs, which were undoubtedly 
 to be used for that picture. It was, however, really laid aside, and the few 
 remaining days were devoted to his other subject, The Peaceful T'hames. 
 
 April 3 : — " All right, shall finish^ and if I don't write again, expect 
 me by the train that reaches Paddington at six o'clock on Saturday. 
 Have done a month's work to-day." 
 
 April 6, from London, to Mr. North :— 
 
 "You will learn with perhaps some surprise, and at first perhaps a 
 little disgust, that the picture did not leave this house last night. I came 
 to the conclusion — and my folks here to-day agree with me most fully in 
 the course I have taken — that it is a far more creditable and right course 
 to pursue, to go on with it rather than let it be seen in its present state. 
 The best part of what I have done is utterly lost and put down by that 
 which I have commenced on the canvas, without being able to carry 
 through ; but you know so thoroughly, that I need not even speak to you 
 of the great effort it cost me last night to make this decision. I am 
 convinced^ however, that it is a good and dignified one, if I may say so, 
 and I feel that I shall not think otherwise in time to come. Probably I 
 shall take it down to you again ; but meanwhile shall work on the hill up 
 Thames, sending it down to-morrow perhaps, while I finish the ' Fish- 
 monger's Shop.' Understand plainly that I think there is very little 
 really lost work, but it requires to be developed, and the subject to be 
 carried more to the foreground — more of this anon. I am a little fatigued 
 to-day, and fear that I interrupted your work yesterday. . . . Tell us if 
 there is anything we can procure for you, or send you, in the way of dress 
 or ' properties,' or indeed anything that may help you in working the 
 water colours." 
 
 The same date, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 
 " Your letter was forwarded to me by my sister, and I am sure you 
 will quite understand my not having replied to you, or indeed having 
 written to any one or seen any one, when I tell you that I again took my 
 work to Somersetshire, and on returning to town last night, after a week 
 of most severe work, came to the conclusion that the more dignified 
 course with regard to my picture would be to go on with it, rather than 
 allow it to be seen in its present state — this conclusion I came to on seeing 
 in my own room, how much more might be made of a subject and kind of 
 work that ought at least to have the very utmost care that I am able to 
 give it." 
 
 And so the picture was left unfinished. Whether Walker worked on 
 it again I do not know ; but if so, he probably took from, rather than 
 added to it, as the idea he undoubtedly had at one time, of sending the 
 
268 
 
 LIFE AND LErrERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XIV 
 
 picture to that Academy Exhibition, hardly seems compatible with the 
 state in which it remained at the time of his death. 
 
 Though unnecessary for the artist reader, it may be well to state that 
 the alterations Walker so frequently made in his pictures were not caused 
 bv any inability to overcome technical difficulties, but were due to a 
 recognition — intuitive, Mr. North thinks — of the necessity of bringing 
 all the component parts of the picture into harmony with the dominant 
 theme. 
 
 At the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water Colour Society, 
 Walker's only contribution was The Village^ already mentioned as having 
 been painted in the preceding year. This drawing has been etched by 
 Mr. C. Waltner. 
 
 After a month or so in town. Walker was planning another fishing 
 excursion. On May i6, he wrote to Mr. Stevenson : — 
 
 '* . . . Now you must, like a good fellow, let me know on what day 
 you reach Auchineilan. Goodness knows I am anxious enough to get 
 away, but a beastly east wind is blowing hard, giving me the blues, for I 
 know there's no enjoyment to be had while it lasts. I dream of fishing 
 
 every night — crystal streams of immense depth, and fish of monstrous 
 size. 
 
 <SUA5C<TW 
 
 Will tell you in good time of my departure, and meantime shall anxiously 
 look for a line from you telling that all is well." 
 
 May 25, from Dunoon, to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a line to say I am all right, and feeling much revived already 
 by this glorious change, and am looking forward to joining Stevenson 
 to-morrow. Will tell you all about this beautiful place in my next. . . . 
 Hope you are both better than when your poor old worry was with you. 
 Shall return quite another creature, I am sure." 
 
i873 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 269 
 
 May 26, Auchineilan : — "Got here in safety, and have been out 
 with Stevenson and his friend Mr. Watts, fishing on the loch. Very 
 late, and self very tired." 
 
 The Mr. Watts here mentioned, is Mr. H. E. Watts, the well- 
 known author of the Life of Cervantes and other works. 
 
 May 29 : — "Just returned from Taynuilt, that's to say, the yacht 
 reached this end of the loch at about \ past 10, and as I was up at 5 this 
 morning, am pretty tired, for I fished until this afternoon most carefully. 
 I got up early, because the only chance of a salmon just now, is either 
 very early morning, or late in evening, and I lost my one chance by the 
 hook breaking, in striking a fine fish which I raised soon after I began. 
 The others did nothing ; we only took trout, but had good sport with 
 them. Found all the letters and papers on getting back, and can only 
 say God bless you both for giving me all news, while I am * loafing ' in 
 this beautiful place. Am perfectly tuell^ only rather red with the air, and 
 sun which has been deliciously warm. My old dear will be tired of 
 these scraps instead of letters, but the only chance of a line is now in my 
 room after getting home so late ; I can scarcely keep my eyes open, with 
 that delicious sense of comfortable fatigue, that one never gets except 
 under these circumstances." 
 
 May 30, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " Just a few lines before starting to one of the lochs among the 
 hills — we may not be back till late, and it gives me no chance of letter 
 
 Curious appearance presented by A. . . . S. . . .n Esq., ivhen going to fish in the Hill- Lochs. 
 
 May 30, 1873." 
 
270 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 writing. ... I am feeling so much better, that it's difficult to imagine 
 myself the same worn-out nervous creature. It seems to me that air and 
 exercise alone will keep me well and happy, and here I get both ; must 
 have walked many miles yesterday, a long day it was. . . . Returned 
 late, my dear, and very little to add save that we had a lovely afternoon, 
 too lovely indeed for sport, took very few, but rode over wonderful 
 hills, on horses, to the beautiful desolate lake." 
 
 June I, to his sister Mary : — 
 
 "... Thank you, my Poll, for your little letter. I have been 
 enjoying myself prodigious, though there's been but poor sport, the 
 streams all too low and bright, the weather far too beautiful. We got 
 some good trout, but no salmon, the only chance being very early in the 
 morning, and late at night. This was at the Awe, on the other end 
 of the loch, 30 miles away, to which we went in Stevenson's little 
 steam yacht. I got up before 5, and got to the water before the sun 
 was on it, and hooked a fine salmon, and with most awful bad luck, 
 the hook i^roke in his mouth ! After that there was no chance except for 
 trout ; we got plenty of them, and had a jolly day — indeed all the days 
 have been delightful. I made a riddle while we were resting and refresh- 
 ing ourselves. I asked, ' Why would any one seeing us there, say at once 
 that Stevenson was a better educated man than any of us ^ ' — the answer, 
 *■ Because he was the Senior [Wrjangler,' ... I shall be sorry to leave 
 this beautiful place, but there's a subject I'm thinking of, that I can 
 get material for at this Iron place, and I have promised to go." 
 
 The same date, to his mother : — 
 
 " I have received a very satisfactory letter from T. Hugh Bell, saying 
 that the strike is ended ; and I propose leaving this on Tuesday morning. 
 . . . Shall stay with Bell until the end of the week I expect, then get on 
 to town, but there's plenty of time to let you know of my movements. 
 Am awfully well^ and beginning to want to get to serious work again. It 
 has been a glorious little holiday here, and so I don't so much mind the 
 want of sport." 
 
 From Scotland, Walker went to stay for a few days with Mr. Bell, at 
 Coatham, Redcar ; his object being to procure material for the projected 
 picture to which he alludes above. This subject was never carried out — 
 I do not find that it was ever begun — but the fact that Walker had in his 
 mind another picture, the theme of which was labour, is worthy of 
 notice. 
 
 June 17, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " You must excuse me for seeming to neglect answering yours ; have 
 been fully occupied since my return from the North, and yet have done 
 nothing. This glorious weather makes me think of you, and what you're 
 doing. I am alone in town, my people being at Milford in Surrey, 
 
i873 FREDERICK WALKER 271 
 
 and I appear to be sticking regularly with work, am so brim-full of 
 subjects I suppose [!] ; anyhow I've enough of them. The one I think 
 of going at in the North, is a whacker — wish I could see you for a while, 
 fear I can't get to yoii just now, but would like to very much. When do 
 you return ? Have heard what you suggested about the disastrous canvas 
 I worked on so hard in the spring, but I don't think it will do. I hate 
 the very sight of it — would far rather begin on anything fresh." 
 
 June 21, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I have just come up from Milford, Surrey, from my Mother and 
 sister, and find your letter and the easel, &c., many thanks. I am rather 
 depressed and worried ; my Mother is not so well as I could wish, I return 
 to her again to-day until Monday morning. My work does not progress ; 
 have been trying to get on with a water colour from the ' Harbour,' but 
 cannot somehow — it is stale and flat. I am bilious, and enjoy nothing, 
 and your remarks about my work, and time going on, are too true, I fear. 
 Have been waiting for a man to come to town with whom I was staying 
 in the North of England, a great ironmaster. I think of going to his 
 district with reference to a picture, and he tells me that there's material 
 that he thinks will suit me in S. Wales, near Cardiff. What I have seen 
 already in the N., scarcely will do, and he proposes taking me, later in 
 the season, to some old works of theirs near Durham, that are more what 
 I want ; and, without going into detail, more varied^ as are those in South 
 Wales he says, and some connections of theirs will show me all I want. I 
 could explain the subject more fully to you if I saw you, which I would 
 very much like to do. I am sick of this series of failures or half failures, 
 and shall not be myself until I am right into a big and successful thing. 
 How could I get to Cardiff from your part, would you like to go with 
 me } I might combine some of the material that I find in S. Wales, with 
 that of the North ; and for more reasons than one, would prefer to work 
 with or near you, if possible. ... I am rather out of sorts, as I said 
 before, and the break down in the spring seems to have rather un- 
 nerved me — I am dissatisfied with everything. Am truly glad you are 
 getting on so well in the quiet, away from all this sickening cackle 
 about Shahs and shows — every one seems to have run mad here." 
 
 June 30, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Your letter ought to have been answered sooner, but I have been 
 away to Milford, Surrey, for some days, with my Mother and sister, and 
 we returned on Saturday, when I expected to meet here the man with 
 whom I stayed in the North, and whose relations live in S. Wales. Had 
 I seen him, I should have heard more about his return to Durham ; but, 
 unfortunately, while I was out for half an hour, he came. I think from 
 all I hear, that the part I have yet to visit in Durham, will suit me 
 better than S. Wales ; so if I go to you, it will be more with an eye to 
 the Mushroom picture^ which I am still bent on doing : indeed, I was at 
 
272 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 work on a bit of background that I think might do, while I was at 
 Milford. My stay there, though only for a few days, did me much 
 good ; I got over some of the terrible depression that I've been feeling of 
 late. I am finishing one little bit of water colour that has hung about 
 for a long while ; and in spite of want of light, I find myself to-day 
 working very fairly, therefore I think you must not expect to see me 
 just yet. I should like to go back to Durham with this man if I can, 
 for his influence there will procure for me unlimited civility and attention 
 from the natives, instead of ' half a brick ' at my head, which I rather 
 think a possibility from the glimpse 1 have had already of those parts. 
 Some of the old workings up there are far better, I hear, than any I've 
 yet seen — more picturesque, I mean," 
 
 The water colour referred to above was, I believe, the small Fish- 
 mongers Shop^ which was completed shortly after the date of the foregoing 
 letter. The other work on which Walker was engaged at the time was 
 the large water colour of The Harbour of Refuge. 
 
 July 28, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... I'm kept here on account of the schools at the Academy, that 
 produce each day in me a state of irritation bordering on madness. I 
 feel inclined to box the ears of the ' students ' all round." 
 
 August 2, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 
 "... There were several small matters I would have liked to discuss, 
 but they will keep until I see you. I wanted to point out one or two 
 things in the large ' Harbour,' that might with advantage be done. If 
 you are going away, perhaps I might retain the picture for the present 
 — until we meet, in fact. I wanted also to show you the water 
 colour, which I fancy will give you much satisfaction. I shall only be 
 away for a short time if I go away on Tuesday, it is to get through 
 some open-air work that is now at its prime. I can resume the water 
 colour immediately on my return." 
 
 A few days after this. Walker left London for Torquay, to ascer- 
 tain if further inspection of the material to be found there would 
 confirm the opinion he formed in the spring of its suitability for the 
 background of The Unknown Land. As will be seen from the next 
 letter, the result was satisfactory. He at once gave instructions for 
 the canvas to be sent to him, together with his copy of Victor Hugo's 
 Toilers of the Sea. 
 
 August 7, Torquay : — " It's all right, I think. I've laid everything 
 in train for most successful work between this and Anstey's Cove. Took 
 a long walk soon after getting here yesterday, and felt convinced at once 
 that it would be all right. It looked simply glorious^ and I have arranged 
 with a man to have my canvas kept under lock and key on the very 
 beach itself, and also to have a boat to take it across to the other side of 
 
1873 FREDERICK WALKER 273 
 
 the cove that not only gives me the best view, but cuts me ofF from the 
 tourist beast. I also took a boat this morning from the harbour, in 
 order to see two very splendid rocks, one called ' London Bridge,' and 
 forming a natural arch ; I only knew it from the photo, before this, and 
 that was from the wrong side for the picture ; but on getting to the 
 other side, I found it if anything better, and another detached rock there 
 is, of the exact shape ^ ^c.^ I have already made a sketch of^ and 
 altogether, I feel most hopeful and well — the weather glorious, and very 
 few people about, the fools seem to shirk the place, and goodness 
 knows why. You will, by this, have received my telegram, telling 
 you I have found lodgings near to the cove. The address is : — 2, 
 Wellswood Park. Why * Park,' I don't know, except that there's some 
 garden place behind the row of houses — however, it's perfectly quiet, 
 not dear, and not too far from the shops, although near the scene of 
 action." 
 
 August 8 : — *' ... A glorious day, but it would be too hot I fear 
 
 for you, yet I would like to know of you both going away somewhere 
 
 for another change. Only tell me where you might be thinking of 
 
 going, and when. Am gently settling down to work, and have 
 
 determined not to leave until I've done ity if it occupies me a 
 
 month. . . . The colour of the sea at the cove is quite like the 
 Mediterranean." 
 
 August 10 : — " . . . It's a somewhat gloomy day, but I have 
 worked pretty well, because I could manage it from the boat-house on 
 the beach, and the doors being kept nearly closed, screened me from 
 bathers and other intruders. I think I shall be able to do all I want 
 from the said boat-house, which will make it unnecessary for me to use a 
 boat, which I should never in any case do save in calm weather, so be 
 quite easy in your mind on that subject. . . . It's rained once or twice, 
 but as I'm under cover, it don't matter — all the better in fact, as it will 
 keep intruders away." 
 
 August 13, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "... Am getting on capitally with work ; so well that I half think of 
 taking a holiday to-morrow, by going to Totnes, which I have long wanted 
 to see. There aren't many people here, thank goodness, but what there 
 are, you'd be disgusted with ; vile excursionists and semi-plebeians. I 
 shut myself up in my boat-house, tying the door with a rope, and 
 leaving space enough to give me light, and a view of the glorious cove, 
 and the terrific ridge of rocks. There is any amount of wild clematis, 
 that climbs among the trees and bushes, and if I can, I shall go at it 
 before I leave this." 
 
 August 16, to his mother : — 
 
 "... My work has gone on rather slowly this last day or two. I 
 
274 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 am much bothered by the secret way I am obliged to keep myself shut 
 up in that boat-house, because the folks about the beach are of that 
 kind, that, once known I am there, I should have no peace, and I have 
 therefore to be constantly on the look-out, getting a bit of work by 
 snatches. However, it goes on, and I am very well indeed, and shall 
 work like a nigger at it in a good light at home, after all this experience." 
 
 August 20: — " . . . Pouring with rain here, but T am just gomg out. 
 . . . Have arranged with a man to get my canvas up to some foliage, &c., 
 near the cove, where the wild clematis, &c. is very fine." 
 
 August 22: — "All right, and working very hard. Work much im- 
 proved to-day^ just going back to it, self perfectly well. . . . Shall remain 
 here until I feel quite satisfied that I've done enough. Weather perfectly 
 lovely." 
 
 August 23 : — " Just the usual line to say I'm all serene, and work going 
 on well. Weather lovely, and only the brutal people that infest the 
 place, to complain of. . . . Work is beginning to show up well now, but I 
 shall be another week or more at it, I expect." 
 
 August 26: — " . . . Last night there was a storm as severe as the 
 one you describe ; it was coming on while I was in my wood house on 
 the beach, just as it began to grow dark, and the lightning was splendid. 
 I get on very well down there ; have contrived a way of having the doors 
 nearly closed, and tied together with rope, and some planking at the 
 lower part, so that no one can see in. Sometimes, if it isn't a very bright 
 day, I have to open the doors wider ; and then, any one with sharp eyes 
 might see the doors mysteriously and slowly close on the approach of 
 footsteps, or when I hear voices. One man did make a dash at the place 
 so quickly, that I was taken by surprise. It came on to rain suddenly, 
 and I did not hear him, so he saw what I was at ; so I made the best of a 
 bad job by turning my work to the wall, inviting him in, and asking him 
 not to tell any one what he had seen, telling him the reason why. ... I 
 am determined to do the leafage, &c., while the green trees here are in 
 their prime. I know what it will be if I shirk it ; shall be going mad 
 next spring, before any leaves have come out. Shall be glad to see my 
 old Missus again, but it's best not to hurry back to town before the 
 change can have done good to any of us, or before I can have carried 
 out what I came to do." 
 
 August 28, to his sister Fanny: — 
 
 "... I think my work promises to be a complete success. Have 
 yet to do the foliage, which is the toughest part ; that done, I can return 
 for any other part of the background, between this and spring, if 
 necessary. Am now going to rush to Paignton, where I saw a little 
 
1873 FREDERICK WALKER 275 
 
 stream dashing under the road, to the sea, and which I think might be 
 useful." 
 
 September 2, to his mother: — 
 
 "Your letter of this morning reads as if you were a little depressed 
 when you wrote it. I expect you are wanting to get back to the 'Burgh, 
 and to the little comforts that you can, after all, get there. We shall 
 have much to talk about, you and I, when we meet ; I confess that I 
 begrudge each precious day now, and wish I could stay through next 
 week or part of it, for I feel that the things I can see here, I cannot meet 
 with elsewhere this season. I am loth to leave the place before I am 
 absolutely finished, for I managed most carefully in the first place, and 
 could not get the convenience for work anywhere, that I secured here. 
 The people of the house imagine that I am — like every one else — doing 
 nothing ; not being aware of a certain large case that was taken down to 
 the cove. They little imagine that when I come in at dusk, I am fagged, 
 not with doing nothing, but with pretty hard work — my materials, of 
 course, I keep down there, and secrete the key on leaving. I pay 
 half a crown a week rent ! On Sunday, I took a glorious walk to a 
 place where I found all the green things that I would like to introduce^ 
 and to-morrow I shall spend the whole day there, making sketches. 
 The place suits me, I think ; anyhow, I have been very well here, and 
 have generally slept well, and had a good appetite. Have just been 
 into the town, to the Post Office, for some colours I sent for to Roberson's. 
 I don't choose to have 'em sent here, with their ' A.R.A's.' " 
 
 September 5 : — " . . . The weather here is cool and bright, with an 
 occasional shower. Shall be glad to see my work at home, and shall have 
 to go at it like mad, and the water colour of the ' Harbour ' as well." 
 
 September 7 : — " ... It has been beastly weather here, cold and wet ; 
 the people on the beach, too, have been a great nuisance. One * artist ' 
 took up his quarters sketching, just outside my house, quite blockading 
 me, and little thinking there was a sketch of considerable size within a 
 few yards of him. The rain, later in the day, drove him off; but he was 
 there yesterday afternoon, and I saw him as I was getting down on to the 
 beach ; so I made some memoranda elsewhere, and he was gone when I 
 returned. It has been very wet, but turning out a fine evening. I shall 
 be off now, and you will, I expect, not hear from me, but see me, on 
 Tuesday." 
 
 September 1 1 , from London, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I've just returned with some work that will do^ I think, and am now 
 hard at it here. This is just to ask if you are at Woolstone, and how you 
 get on, when you come to town, &c., are there any mushrooms in your 
 neighbourhood, would it do [in case I find I can manage it] to make a 
 
 T 2 
 
276 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 dash into your neighbourhood for a day or two, before the month is 
 quite over, and the above articles all gone ? Are you alone ? A letter this 
 morning, tempting me sorely to go salmoning at the end of the month, 
 but I must try to resist the temptation," 
 
 September 27, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... I am finishing a very careful and elaborate water colour of 
 the ' Harbour of Refuge ' ; been at it ever since I came from Devonshire, 
 and it's almost been the death of me, especially as I had to refuse that 
 invitation to the salmon and the North. I suppose I shall have my 
 reward some day. The water colour is 3 feet long, the most important 
 I've yet done, I think — shall have it at our forthcoming Exhibition at 
 Pall Mall. Do you know I've a notion of yet going on with the Mush- 
 Toomers, on the canvas I had at Woolstone, with about 1 8 inches taken 
 •off the left side. I've taken out those precious lambs &c., and I find 
 there is so much careful work, that it would be a shame to lose it. I 
 have another stretcher that will just suit it. Shall take out a lot of that 
 bramble stuff in front, and make it more like the original design — no 
 hill at the back, but trees appearing above the hill side on the left, &c. 
 What think you ^ I ought, in that case, to have a week with you before 
 the trees get bare. I should like you to see what I have brought from 
 Devonshire." 
 
 October i , to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Thanks for your letter. You know how glad I shall be to see you, 
 tut I fear you will be disappointed with what work I can show you, and 
 I feel disturbed at the notion of this being one of the reasons for your 
 •coming to town. However, you will, I am sure, be able to give me some 
 suggestions as to the big picture. Of course, there's not a vestige of a 
 figure, it is just as I brought it from Devon, for I have been hard at the 
 water colour, which has been indeed hard work, because it has not the 
 interest of being new, and yet requires great care." 
 
 October 6, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I said something about writing a line to-day, but I find I've very 
 little to say. I've been pounding away at the water colour ' Harbour,' 
 and I think it looks much better since yesterday. I shall let you know 
 more about the time you may expect me ; meanwhile, if you should 
 happen to see any stuff that may suit the big canvas, perhaps you'll kindly 
 make a note of it. It strikes me that poor Pinwell must have thought 
 me full of talk last night, but I confess I felt anxious to place * furren 
 parts ' before him in as good a light as is warranted by the limited 
 experience of yours sincerely, F. W." 
 
 It may be said in passing that, though their names are often coupled, 
 there was very little intimacy between Walker and Pinwell. Mr. 
 
1873 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 277 
 
278 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 North remembers this visit. He was going to see Pinwell, who was 
 ill at the time, and induced Walker to accompany him. It was, 
 he believes, the only occasion on which Walker was in Pinwell's 
 house. 
 
 October 9, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I am looking for a line from you. How about the trees ? Would 
 it be possible for me to take a complete little holiday next week — for a 
 week say, or ten days — and yet return and find things possible in your 
 neighbourhood ^ I have been going at the water colour so hard — at 
 the mower for instance — and it looks so much better than when 
 you saw it. I almost think I ought to have a change ; I want it 
 very much." 
 
 A week later Walker went to Ludlow. 
 
 October 17, to his mother : — 
 
 *' I'm much better already, and I think I shall stay on, at any rate for 
 a day or two. . . . The place is surprisingly good^ now I come to see it 
 in a better light and with refreshed eyes ; I can fancy it being quite a 
 place to come to, if one can only do so without being followed or 
 badgered. ... I can imagine lots of work being done here ; it is rather 
 unlike any town I ever saw — which is saying much — moreover, I find 
 that the fishing is not so difficult to get as I imagined. ... I had a little 
 fishing this morning — had some sport — quite as much as I expected, the 
 place being new. T am quite well and in better spirits than when I left 
 town." 
 
 October 23 : — " . . . This morning I seriously thought of returning ; 
 there has been a complete change in the weather, all the streams being 
 flooded, and fishing put a stop to for a day or two. This afternoon 
 turned out so glorious that I took a long ramble, ferreting among the 
 queer streets and buildings of this wonderful old place, and seeing many 
 a bit that I hope to remember in case of need. Afterwards I went for a 
 stretch away from the town, returning by some fine rocky hills that 
 overlook the stream, near the town. ... I must have a day or two's 
 work on my return, and then shall, I think, go off to Wool- 
 stone. Am quite well and comfortable ; the change has been most 
 beneficial." 
 
 October 26: — "I've just returned from a long walk, some 10 or 
 1 1 miles. . . . The walk has been a glorious one, but very wild, to 
 a great stony hill that one sees from every part near this, called the 
 Titterstone. I lost my way, which made the walk longer ; and was 
 precious glad at length to find a little alehouse, that I ought to have 
 passed an hour before, where I had some beer, and oh such bread and 
 cheese ! The bread smelt of wheat, and some butter I had with it, of 
 cows and cream. I could have eaten all before me ; and, for the few 
 
1873 FREDERICK WALKER 279 
 
 pence I paid, had more good, I think, than many a big dinner has 
 given me. . . . Shall be in capital trim for work, after this holiday, 
 I hope." 
 
 October 31, from London, to iVIr. North : — 
 
 " I've just returned [the night before last] from Shropshire, where I 
 was idle the whole time, so feel proportionately ashamed of myself. Got 
 some grayling fishing, and self into rather better tone, I wanted the 
 holiday very badly, or I should have gone on to you first. ' Fresh fields 
 and pastures new ' I have seen, and want to tell you all about it. I am 
 doing my best to finish the water colour ' Harbour,' which I could take 
 with me if I joined you. Am wavering between the one canvas and 
 the other ; I fear that the leafage being so entirely gone, will render 
 it useless to take the large canvas to Woolstone ; but the other and 
 older subject, I still cling to, but fear I can never make it right on the 
 
 old original canvas, moreover, I do not think it need be so large 
 
 They are both beautiful subjects ; but the old one I have in my mind 
 so thoroughly, and as you know, have already done so much towards it, 
 that I could, I think, quietly and at Woolstone, go at it successfully, 
 even though the warm weather is past. Give me your sentiments, and 
 tell me whether you think it would be worth while joining you before 
 you come up to town." 
 
 November 3, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Since writing to you, there has developed on me a frightful cold in 
 the head and throat, such as I have scarcely ever had before ; making 
 immediate action in the shape of a journey quite out of the question. 
 Had it not been so, I couldn't have left before the end of the week ; 
 besides, the hot water cure and the gruel would be losing their effect, so 
 I must hope to see you here, and you know how gladly I'll go to see 
 this formidable amount of work at your rooms. Come and see me as 
 soon as you can ; there are things I want to talk to you about." 
 
 November 13, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I would like to see you so soon as is convenient to you on getting 
 to town ; something concerning work I want particularly to discuss with 
 you. ... I am writing this in a putty-coloured light — the nearest 
 comparison I can make — and in a marrow-chilling atmosphere. I begin 
 to think it is useless going on in this way ; you'll hear what I propose 
 doing. ... I went last evening to Croydon, and conducted a grand 
 display of fireworks, to the delight of a tribe of nephews ! It recalled to 
 my mind our performance on the hill behind Halsway." 
 
 November 20, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 .*" There has been no daylight for the last week, until this morning ; 
 
28o LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xiv 
 
 and that only for an hour or two here. I wish you could call on me, I 
 am anxious to consult you about something, The water colour [which 
 you'll say looks very * prime '] is all but done ; it goes to the Gallery on 
 Saturday afternoon, but I think I might have it out perhaps for a couple 
 of days, after Monday." 
 
 November 27, to Mr. North : — 
 
 "... My water colour * Harbour ' is here until noon to-morrow, 
 and I'm ^ired outT 
 
 The question of wintering abroad was the subject Walker was 
 anxious to discuss with Mr. North. He anticipated that not only would 
 the change to a warm climate be of benefit to his health, but that he 
 might meet with the tropical vegetation he was in search of for the pic- 
 ture of The Unknown Land. His first idea was to visit the Azores, and 
 he obtained letters of introduction to some of the residents in the principal 
 islands. Eventually, however, Algiers was decided on, Mr. North, who 
 was not in good health at the time, arranging to accompany him. The 
 farewell dinner to the Clique, already mentioned, took place on Decem- 
 ber 8 ; and on December 18, the travellers left London for Dover, 
 crossing the next day, and staying two nights in Paris. 
 
 December 22, Marseilles : — " Safely arrived so far you see. . . . We've 
 arranged to be off by the steamer to-morrow afternoon at 5 ; so, my 
 dear, you must not expect another letter for a day or two, the passage 
 across taking from 't^z^ to 40 hours — by no means too long for me as you 
 know, it is a rest and a change, seeing that 1 am not sea-sick. The 
 weather is calm, and certainly warmer than in Paris, and we have to-day 
 gone through some most glorious scenery ; places that both North and I 
 thought, if we live, we might some day make profitable, and to a con- 
 siderable extent too. ... Don't forget the children with your usual tip ; 
 though I'm ashamed of myself for the suggestion, you aren't likely to 
 forget anything of that kind." 
 
 December 26, Algiers : — " I hope that by this you have the telegram 
 I sent this afternoon, announcing my safe arrival yesterday morning ; we 
 got into port at about 7 o'clock. ... I saw that it would be all right, 
 from the lovely green and wooded character of the hills seen from the 
 vessel, and I can only say that we are astounded at the fresh and lovely 
 beauty, the thick leafage, &c., and profusion of flowers ; the roses are 
 in full bloom, and the oranges ripe, there are already wild flowers in 
 abundance, and every day will increase them, a glorious sun striking 
 fresh life into one, and the whole affair a complete success ; butterflies, 
 buttercups and daisies, climbing plants — the enclosed is a sort of clematis 
 blossom — the green grass and weeds, rival that of Devon in the summer. 
 The Bells have been truly kind ; and the best news is, that we have, 
 
1873 FREDERICK WALKER 281 
 
 through them, secured a small house almost within a stone's throw — can 
 be seen from the windows of this charming place, which has a beautiful 
 court, and my bedroom has a cupola or dome, Moorish fashion, with 
 pretty casements and tiles. I only wish from my heart that my two dears 
 were here to share it, and if we are spared for another time, I shall not 
 come, I know, without you. The house we go into to-morrow, and the 
 expense is not greater, or so much, as if we were in the town, which 
 stretches out at our feet, and the harbour too in the distance, the won- 
 derful ultramarine sea beyond, and the Atlas mountains [some with their 
 everlasting snow] at our right. . . . North is utterly collapsed ; and I 
 confess I had no idea we were coming to such a wonderful place. . . . 
 Please God, you'll see me and my work in a different state from that in 
 which I left you both. I am quite well and myself again. . . . I can only 
 add, that I have, I think, all the material for my picture here, besides 
 that for a wee water colour or two at the same time ; the plants and 
 trees in Bell's garden, and ours across the road, are all sufficient .... 
 we have [only fancy] luscious oranges in our own garden. I can only 
 thank God for having allowed me to come here, and God bless you 
 both." 
 
 Mr. North well remembers Walker's delight as they approached 
 Algiers. He says : — " Our great dread had been, that of finding our 
 destination a country arid and rocky, as the neighbourhood of Marseilles, 
 or as the photographs of the Holy Land suggest that region to be ; but 
 as we came into smooth water, in the early morning, he looked from the 
 porthole, and with delight said, * All right, beautiful, green as an English 
 summer' ; and so it was." 
 
 December 29, Campagne Cousin, Mustapha Superieur : — 
 
 " You see by the above that we have shifted our quarters from over 
 the way. ... I am writing this at the open window, in the warm sun. ... It 
 seems so odd to look out of window on to the road, and see dusty-looking 
 Arabs tramping along, or balanced on their donkeys ; and the women we 
 have seen when we went into the town, all have their faces covered 
 except the eyes, and wonderful eyes they often seem. Then, on the 
 distant road looking down the slope of the hill, towards the sea, one can 
 see the camels going along in a sort of procession, looking as if they had 
 come from the desert, as I dare say they really have. . . . It's turning out a 
 glorious day, the sky of that deep blue only seen during summer in 
 England. Heavens ! how I wish you and Fan were here ; but for the 
 long and fatiguing journey, I would suggest your following us, but 
 suppose it had better not be thought of this time. Still, could you be 
 here, it must do you so much good, my dear, I can only say that it is 
 worth going through the journey. There is a gardener attached to this 
 house, included, and whom we have not to pay — he sent us up a fine 
 great bunch of roses, and one or two carnations — fancy, at the end of 
 
282 LIFE AND LErTERS OF FREDERICK TVALKER ch. xiv 
 
 December ! I shall go down when I have closed this, and see if any 
 oranges have dropped off the trees. There are small Mandarin oranges, 
 rather bigger than Tangerines, that grow here, and are very delicious, 
 and the blossom having a rich perfume. But above all, the great charm 
 to North and myself is in some of the bits, and the line of hills and 
 trees, looking for all the world English ; only here and there an aloe or 
 * prickly pear ' reminding one that we're so far away." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 1874 
 
 If in certain letters in the last chapter the reader has discerned signs 
 of coming trouble, he has read them rightly. Were it not that the 
 narrative of Walker's life would be incomplete without his record of 
 these closing months, I could wish to pass lightly over the events of this 
 year and hasten to the end. If I refrain from so doing, it is from no 
 wish to dwell on what is painful. 
 
 The first letter of the year is to his sister Fanny, dated January 2 : — 
 
 " I write a few lines to you this time, although I know it's just the 
 same whether to you or my darling Missus. , . . To-day has been 
 rather windy and not quite so nice, but the full moon to-night is wonderful, 
 I only hope you are both getting along pretty well — not one word have 
 I had about poor old Eel-eye. . . . What would I not give to be able 
 to have five minutes with you both just now ; but there, it will make my 
 return, please God, all the sweeter. Keep your peckers up. We are 
 getting on very well here, and gradually settling down both to work, and 
 to the daily life of the place, getting to bed earlier than / have been 
 used to of late, 10 to 10.30 being the usual hour, but alas, we have 
 been led into a little gaiety these last io-w evenings. The Bells have 
 trotted us out, making calls &c., under the pretence of taking us for 
 drives ; and the result is that we found ourselves doing the fashionable ; 
 and we last night, for instance, witnessed private theatricals at the 
 Consul's, meeting there the whole of the English element. ... I wish 
 you could have seen the private theatricals, my dear, so completely the 
 fixed standard of imbecility ; the men being, as usual, worse than the 
 ' lady actors ' — we, as before, under the wing of the Bells, having dined 
 with them, and driven with them to the Consul's. There also dined 
 with us at the Bells' two Misses Cobden, daughters of the great Richard 
 .... we called on them with the Bells last Sunday, and on others, 
 winding up with a visit to the Jardin d'Essai, a most wonderful place, 
 where they try, or essay, all manner of experiments in acclimatising 
 tropical and other vegetation, the result being something beyond 
 description ; from the most splendid date-palms [that grow naturally 
 
284 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 here and bear fruit] to the groves of bamboo, the leaves of which, 
 rustling in the breeze, while they form a thick and grateful shade, give 
 a sound like a stream of water, reminding me of Scotland. India-rubber 
 trees seem to grow in all the gardens here ; I couldn't help thinking 
 [as I looked at some very full splendid trees glittering in the sunshine] 
 of the poor plant at home, kept going only by your and the Missus's 
 loving care — and I love the care-takers a million times more than any 
 one or anything I can ever see here. I have fixed upon a wild and very 
 beautiful corner of Bell's garden for much of my work. The wind got 
 up suddenly this morning, bringing in the ' white horses ' from the 
 Mediterranean, making it useless to have my canvas outdoors. I've 
 fixed upon a bit in a lane too, near this, which I think I'll make into 
 a water colour." 
 
 January 5, to his mother : — 
 
 "Your two letters came to-day, just as we were finishing dejeuner^ 
 during which I was anxiously waiting, as I knew it to be about letter 
 time. . . . Well, I can only say that the letters did me more good than 
 I can tell, for I was beginning to get a little anxious, it being just a week 
 since your last found me at Bell's. . . . Since Saturday, there has besn 
 a great change in the weather, which, although warm, is very wet — heavy 
 drenching showers like April at home — and which is doing good beyond 
 calculation to the country [although for the time rather annoying to us], 
 and which will make the myriads of flowers spring into blossom like 
 magic. . . . We went again yesterday, to the Jardin d'Essai, and I found 
 a sweet and lovely bit that I must do ; there is a lemon tree in fruit, 
 with some cypress trees, and a stone water tank, &c., &c., all snug and in a 
 corner, waiting to be put on a little panel in water colour. Have been 
 to-day working on a little bit from a window overlooking the house top 
 — a view of the harbour and sea, some of the town, &c. — it was too wet 
 to think of working on the big canvas. ... I only wish my dears were 
 here, even if my Mammy seldom or never left the house, but sat near 
 this fragrant wood fire, and in a cane arm-chair that I generally use, 
 away from any draught, and in which I can smoke, write letters, and 
 enjoy myself generally. Well, we shall be able I hope to talk about it, 
 and possibly make arrangement for another time." 
 
 January 9 : — " . . . We did not work outdoors yesterday, beautiful 
 as it was, as we are warned against doing so immediately after rain, even 
 though the sun is hot .... and we intend to be very careful both 
 in this, and not standing about after getting heated. We mean, for 
 instance, to always drive to any place we may want to work at, [any 
 distance off, walking back. . . . We're both going on very well, gradually 
 getting acclimatised." 
 
 January 17 : — " . . . Work is going on all right I think. Yester- 
 day was wonderfully fine, but it has changed in the night, and there's _a 
 
i874 FREDERICK WALKER 285 
 
 regular tropical downpour just now. ... I did hope to send you a nice long 
 letter this time, but North says I must pull up. . . . We are both quite 
 well, thank goodness." 
 
 January 1 8 : — " ... I wish I could describe the feeling of satis- 
 faction that a letter from home gives me — there's nothing like it. . . . 
 The place is still to my mind a success, a wonderful spot, when one 
 thinks of those frosts and fogs. It's been w*et though, and now that 
 a few days have elapsed since the event, and you won't think that at any 
 moment the place may be swallowed up, I perhaps may tell you that 
 nearly a week ago there was a slight shock of earthquake here, very 
 slight, and one of those that are not at all unusual. It rather amused 
 us because we could really call it an earthquake. North and I have our 
 bedrooms opening one into another, but separated by a little room we 
 use for washing and dressing in ; we usually have the doors open, so that 
 we can talk to each other. We had both got into bed, and were both 
 reading — I know I was — when a curious rumbling sort of shake took 
 place, a trembling, and a looking-glass on the wall of my room gave 
 a loud crack. North called out, ' That's an earthquake ' — he said his 
 bed felt as if it were moved slightly towards my room. It was not more 
 than a passing waggon might have done, but yet it was somehow dif- 
 ferent. We agreed to inquire about it next morning [we slept soundly], 
 and found it had been generally felt, so there ! That's our experience 
 of an earthquake. I'm sorry, of course, I cannot tell you of gaping 
 fissures in the walls, and terror-stricken inhabitants [North and self]. . . . 
 Our grand salon has divans or couches round it, and pillars nearer the 
 centre, supporting arches, and a cupola or dome of the true Moorish 
 shape, with tiny little stained glass windows near the top of the said 
 cupola. . . . Tuesday morning. The above was written rather late on 
 Sunday night, and I broke off, as I was rather tired. We had been for 
 a long walk on Sunday afternoon, first to the Jardin d'Essai, then we 
 went into Algiers, and wandered about in the queer old streets and 
 market-place — a regular scene from the ' Arabian Nights,' such as I never 
 saw painted, or really described in any book. We watched the different 
 scenes until dusk, the mixture of lamplight and daylight adding to the 
 effect. . . . No, my dear, you must not think I am sad because I only 
 sent a scrap of a note. I never send so long a letter as I'd like to ; even 
 now I feel I must be getting to work." 
 
 January 27, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 "... To-night we are going to dine with Madame Bodichon and 
 Miss Jekyll. I haven't mentioned Madame B. before, because she has 
 been away on some trip with Miss J., but they came back, and I had 
 immediately a little letter from Miss J., asking if I'd go to their house, 
 which I did for an hour. They can get us models I think. . . . We 
 went into Algiers on Sunday, and indulged in an afternoon's Arabian 
 Nights sort of sight seeing — trts wonderful this glimpse of another sort 
 
286 LIFE AND LErTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 of world. We went into those parts where I suppose the usual English 
 don't go — queer, narrow, winding streets, up and downhill, thronged 
 with busy folks, a Babel of tongues, dignified old bent men that one 
 would like to shake hands with, and oh, such fine-looking young ones 
 sometimes. We got separated once, where a lot of business in fish was 
 going on, fish with queer shapes and lovely colour, fresh from the 
 Mediterranean. Not once have we met with anything like rudeness or 
 an approach to it : you know what some of them would have to put 
 up with in London — the impudent stare, and disgusting laugh ! No 
 drunkenness, and no policemen here. I assure you I have seen faces and 
 features here, that have seemed they must belong to those capable of the 
 highest and finest achievements ; and yet, poor souls, perhaps wanting 
 for a penny." 
 
 January 3 1 , to his mother : — 
 
 " Just a few lines so as not to miss the post. Another glorious 
 morning, and I shall get to work directly this goes off. Should have 
 written last night, but we went again to Madame Bodichon to dinner, and 
 afterwards to her sister's, with the Miss Jekyll I mentioned, where I did 
 some tootling. . . , Work is going on, rather slowly perhaps, but 
 well. . . . Shall soon be able to tell you how long I think of remaining 
 here." 
 
 February 2 : — " ... I fear that you, my dear, have been less well 
 than I had supposed, but can only hope you will get through this time 
 without much of a breakdown : from what you say, it is enough to try 
 any one. It has been chilly and showery here ; I have not been 
 working outdoors. . . . We have been calculating as to how soon we 
 may look towards returning, I know / should like to directly it's possible. 
 This living ' en gar^on ' is all very well, but very tiresome sometimes 
 from its sheer monotony ; so different from being a week or fortnight 
 with a fellow, and within a day's journey of town. The little accounts 
 as they come in are a bore to us — true. North does it mostly — but you 
 know what they are, and the beastly little attempts to overcharge are 
 most irritating. I am of opinion that I can get away by the end of the 
 month, but this is only a haphazard guess, and if I do, I must rely on 
 being able to work like steam at the figures after I get back, in order to 
 finish at all. Must hope to be able to work well here for the remainder 
 of the time. . . . Had a long walk into the country yesterday afternoon, 
 with Bell ; glorious as ever the place seemed, but if one is feeling at all 
 the fact of being away from all one cares for, the loveliest place must 
 seem wanting in something — this was my case a wee bit." [Next 
 day,] "All right my dearest, and jolly — a fine sunny day, and I've been 
 at it outdoors a bit. Shall work indoors this afternoon, as there's a 
 breeze getting up." 
 
 February 5 : — " I shall just begin a ^q^n lines before going to bed. 
 
1874 FREDERICK WALKER 287 
 
 I haven't been getting on so quickly with work the last few days ; . . . 
 shall get on well enough I hope, my Missus, but I don't care what 
 people expect of me, so that's flat ; they'll get what I choose, and if 
 that happens to be nothings they'll have to wait till it's something. 
 My reputation is dearer to me than it has ever been, and I shall 
 now try to do only that which you, and Fan, and I consider the 
 right sort of thing, and with this nice conceited sentiment, I shall 
 retire to ruggins." [Next day.] " Have been working better to-day, the 
 sun gloriously warm and comforting. Shall endeavour to go on and 
 not worry myself by thinking of other men's work, or what is expected 
 of me ; shall finish if I can, and if I cannot, I hope that in the end 
 I shall be none the worse. You ask, my dearest, how I look^ and how 
 I am. Well, I expect I look rather a bear, for I haven't shaved since 
 I've been away, and shall not until I'm obliged ; with this exception, I 
 suppose the same old fright — no fatter I expect, but no thinner, but as 
 you say, you'll have to judge for yourself I feel all right, my dear. . . 
 Shall work away as well as I can, my dears, to get back as soon as 
 possible ; glad enough I shall be, you may be sure. Still think I can do 
 all I want here, by the end of the month." 
 
 February 9 : — " ... I am getting on better with work I think ; 
 am beginning at length to ' knock it into shape,' but I don't like to think 
 of how much I've done, or how much I have to do. Have been a great 
 deal bothered about the disposition of the figures, and find I must make 
 the subject a good deal simpler^ in order to tell its story at once, which is 
 of the very first importance. The colour, as North says, is pretty pure, 
 thank goodness, and will tell I hope in the end ; I have worked indoors 
 to-day, having plenty to do, besides it was showery and squally. The 
 light, of course, is good every day ; and as I read your letter, I felt at 
 least that I must be thankful for daylight, and indeed it helps to reconcile 
 one to this banishment, of which I am beginning to get heartily sick. 
 Mrs. Bell last night accused me of being homesick, and I boldly avowed 
 that I was / . . . Madame Bodichon and Miss Jekyll are leaving for 
 England on the 24th, and I have a vague hope that I may finish enough 
 here, to be able to take their suggestion and travel with them. I don't 
 think North will be able to finish in time to join us, if / can manage it ; 
 I don't know yet, but shall try very hard — it would relieve me of a lot 
 of travelling worry, for they would take care of me^ both being very 
 good travellers, especially Miss Jekyll, who is I hear quite a ' courier.' 
 ... I have been getting very uneasy about you^ my dear, hearing that 
 you kept being unwell, but am reassured by to-day's letters. Don't go 
 out more than you can help : keep to the chair, with a good warm wrap 
 about your dear shoulders, and let everything go hang — a fine thing it 
 is, your talking of being ' of use ' and ' doing things,' in a time like 
 this ; why the only thing you can do is to keep as well as possible by 
 giving your body every possible rest and comfort — time enough to think 
 of doing anything when the trees begin to look green again, and the 
 
288 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 Jilies of the valley are in bloom. Our Fan has pluck enough, and I hope 
 strength enough, to be commander-in-chief. I know she has goodness 
 enough, and does not forget that each act of management and economy 
 carried out, is a direct benefit to me^ as much as if she were using my 
 paint brush for me. I don't often express myself in this way, for it 
 isn't necessary, to my Mother and sister. I shall be glad enough to 
 return to the little home, with all its cold weather, and what seemed such 
 drawbacks sometimes, while I was there — they ought not to be draw- 
 backs — God knows they seem little enough as I try to remember them. 
 The loveliest place on earth is not like home ; a difficult thing to im- 
 press on those who've never left it, and haven't felt the intense yearning 
 and sense of being y^r away.'' 
 
 February 14 : — " Just a line to say all's right, and self well, work 
 going on steadily. . . . Weather, the last day or two, beautiful ; quiet 
 and warm, but before that, rainy and windy, Will tell you in my next 
 if any preparations can be made as to models for my return. Thanks 
 to both my dears for their loving care." 
 
 February 16 : — "Yours and Fan's and the Punch, received this 
 evening, after having for once taken a holiday. We arranged with 
 Madame Bodichon and Miss Jekyll, to start this morning to a place 
 along the coast [they driving us in Madame B.'s carriage] where there 
 are some fine rocks, &c., and to which place I must go with my work, 
 one day at least before leaving this. A glorious day it has been ; just 
 a summer's day, with a delicious air, and gentle light clouds — a day to 
 remember indeed — certainly the most pleasant since we have been here. 
 For we made it a little pic-nic, and the society of two good clever women 
 made it none the less pleasant. We got home here at about 6.30. We 
 did a lot of walking, in various ways, and finally left them at their door, 
 after a day that had more enjoyment and less petty worries in it, than 
 most holidays. There was just a gentle wave on the exquisitely clear 
 sea, and from the rocks we looked down into the green pools and their 
 waving seaweed. And where we had our luncheon [and I was preciously 
 hungry], there was a little curving beach of pretty stones, and detached 
 rocks outside the tiny bay, just such as will help me with what I have 
 had to alter in getting on with work. We returned by another route, 
 inland. . . ." [Next day.] " I am sure I cannot leave quite so soon as I 
 hoped ; not by the 24th, for instance. Of course I am anxious to get 
 back to my old dears, but it would be madness to leave this before I'm 
 quite finished here. No getting out with work to-day, for it's blowing 
 half a gale, though bright and sunny." 
 
 February 20, to his sister Fanny : — 
 
 " . . . By this time you'll know I can't get away so soon as 1 ex- 
 pected ; as for leaving with Madame B. and Miss J., it's out of the 
 question. We've had a vile succession of squally and rainy days, very 
 treacherous I should think, and I have declined to work outdoors on a 
 
1874 FREDERICK WALKER 289 
 
 flapping canvas. All this has retarded work you may guess, although 
 T have found plenty to do indoors, and we both think that what I must 
 do, will be all the more easily got for this indoor treatment. Still it is 
 very riling ; for, with all the cold, and everything else, I want to get 
 back very much — am getting sick of the beautiful place, and yearn for 
 my native pavement. I am sure it will be a week later than I hoped, 
 before I can get away — it would be madness to leave what I came for, 
 before really getting it, and although the weather has been bad, each day 
 advances matters here [new flowers, &c.], and of course I leave all open 
 air work on this canvas, if I am to finish at all this spring, so soon as I 
 leave this place. We are going, after dinner, up to Madame B. ; they 
 will be sorry to know I can't leave with them. I have had some more 
 fluting, and did the little Mozart Andante before a very ' select audience,' 
 the other night. . . . The crocus was all right, and licks into Jits any- 
 thing here, the enclosed being the nearest approach to it." 
 
 February 25, to his mother : — 
 
 " On board the steamer. . . . You'll be surprised, and I 
 liope glad, to learn that I left with Madame Bodichon and 
 Miss Jekyll yesterday, by this steamer. I came to the conclusion 
 that it would be best. I wasn't getting on with work, was thoroughly 
 homesick and with no appetite, my throat, too, was irritable, and alto- 
 gether I felt I was doing no good there ; so at the last minute I got my 
 things packed, my place taken on board the boat, and here I am. It's 
 glorious weather, quite calm as yet, though we're nearer Marseilles than 
 Algiers ; from which place I am very glad to have started. I don't 
 think it suited me in every way, all small reasons no doubt, but quite 
 sufficient to make up the sum — will tell you all about it when we meet. 
 No place like home : I am worn with the eternal gabble of a foreign 
 tongue — with everything that is foreign — and long to get back to the 
 simple fare, and the little fight that awaits me. If it is bitter cold, so 
 much the worse ; I cannot help it, but am heartily sick of being away. 
 Old North was sorry enough you may be sure, but thought I was acting 
 for the best ; should not have stayed so long but for work's sake I can 
 assure you. This will reach the Burgh as quickly as if posted yesterday 
 in Algiers. We get to Marseilles to-morrow morning early, and go on 
 to Avignon I think, on the way to Paris, and I expect to reach the Burgh 
 •either on Sunday night, or some time on Monday — most likely the latter 
 — but will contrive to let you know meanwhile, either by telegram or 
 letter. Slept last night with scarcely a break, from 8 till 8 this morn- 
 ing, for I felt awfully tired in mind and body. Quite well to-day, and 
 have fed capitally. We passed, about two hours ago, the steamer from 
 Marseilles that contains any letters I ought to receive at Algiers to-morrow, 
 and which will simply have to be packed back again to the Burgh. By 
 coming now, I escape the rough weather that is sometimes felt here during 
 the next month ; and although I have not done so much on my canvas as 
 I hoped, I do hope and trust that I shall be able to go on with it on 
 
 u 
 
290 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 getting back, with renewed spirit. Anyhow, I am sure I was receiving 
 no benefit from being away." 
 
 To the kindness of Miss Jekyll I am indebted for the following : — 
 
 " I cannot remember when or where I first made Mr. Walker's ac- 
 quaintance, but I knew very little of him personally till the winter of 
 1873—4 when I passed some months at Algiers with my friend Madame 
 Bodichon. I think it must have been about Christmas that we heard 
 that Mr. Walker had come out with Mr. J. W. North. It was a par- 
 ticularly dull and dark winter in London, and he was impatient of the 
 annoyance and hindrance the want of light was to his work. Also he 
 thought of making studies for the landscape accessories of a large 
 picture [The Unknown Landl which he brought out with him. 
 
 " On first arriving he seemed in good spirits, cheered by the brilliant 
 light and many new impressions, but as these faded he became gloomy 
 and wretched, and seemed to take a horror of the place and a special: 
 dislike to everything French. It was only occasionally that one saw a 
 gleam of his fine artistic sense ; and the personal qualities that had made 
 him dear to many friends, were to us unknown. One of my pleasantest 
 recollections of him was when standing one bright afternoon on the 
 rocky coast, looking westwards at a distant low mountain that bounded 
 the view and showed between sea and sky ; a sort of lowering frown 
 that seemed habitual to his face, replaced for the moment by a bright 
 smile ; he kept repeating to himself : ' Pure ultramarine — pure 
 ultramarine ! ' 
 
 " He took a particular dislike to the aloes and prickly pears sO' 
 abundant in the district, calling them respectively plants made of zinc 
 and putty. 
 
 " The whitewashed walls of one sitting-room in the house where he 
 lived were covered with funny little pencil drawings. Neither he nor 
 his friend could speak French, and the French woman who cooked for 
 the little menage took her orders for dinner, before going to market, by 
 means of these hieroglyphs. I remember a drawing of a duck and green 
 peas, cauliflowers, &c., &c. 
 
 " He had a nervous dislike of his picture, then in an early state,, 
 being seen by visitors ; I remember having to take some pains, when he 
 asked me to come to explain to a carpenter about making a case, to keep 
 well out of view of the face of the large canvas. 
 
 " I do not know if it was the only time he had been abroad, but he 
 gave me the impression of a man who had lived very much in one set of 
 people : his surprise seemed unbounded that everybody did not know 
 all about him ; not, as it appeared to us, from any sort of undue vanity, 
 but from simply never having occasion to realise that there was any world 
 but just the one in which he had lived. We may have been in error, 
 but this was the idea it gave. 
 
 " As time went on, his bodily and nervous condition became evidently^ 
 
1874 FREDERICK WALKER 291 
 
 worse, and he seemed to think he should not get home aUve. In addition 
 to serious bodily discomfort, he was desperately homesick. Over and 
 over he repeated, in a way that was very piteous : ' I shall never see a 
 hansom cab again.' 
 
 " Mr North was not returning to England, Mr. Walker's whole long- 
 ing was to get home, but he felt utterly helpless and unable to organise 
 his journey ; and when Madame Bodichon said we were going home 
 shortly and would take care of him if he liked to come with us, he 
 eagerly accepted. 
 
 *' He seemed very ill and out of spirits the day we embarked, but 
 we were much relieved by finding him much better next morning ; he 
 walked briskly up and down the deck, and seemed cheered by being really 
 on the way home. At Marseilles he seemed much tired, and was irritated 
 by the sound of French. There was some trouble about his picture, as 
 the Custom House required the case to be opsned ; this I undertook to 
 see done without looking at the picture ; they made difficulties about 
 taking so large a case by the passenger train, but this was happily got 
 over. 
 
 " My friend remained in Paris, her servant and I went on with the 
 invalid, and that evening I had the satisfaction of seeing that at any rate 
 his fancy of dying before he again saw the land of hansom cabs was not 
 realised. We said good-bye at Charing Cross, and I never saw him 
 again." 
 
 W^alker returned to London without having derived benefit from the 
 change, and with much careful work effaced from his canvas. Mr. North 
 tells me that, to the elaborately painted rocks and cliffs of Anstey's Cove, 
 Walker added, while in Algiers, a quantity of hanging leafage and trees 
 in the foreground, his aim being to show a wealth of tropical vegetation 
 extending to the very margin of the sea. He painted up the sea and 
 shore, and in the foreground placed groups of figures, suggested, Mr. 
 North thinks, by the Elgin marbles. The picture had been arranged, and 
 was apparently going on towards completion, when one day Mr. North 
 found Walker had destroyed the Anstey's Cove rocks, having painted 
 them over with patches of grey colour. The line of the horizon had all 
 along been too high for the figures, and much was lost in the endeavour 
 to improve the picture in this respect. There is nothing to show that 
 the canvas was worked on after Walker reached London : at the time of 
 his death it remained but a shadow of its former self. It was bought at 
 the sale at Christie's by Sir Lowthian Bell, for whom, indeed, it had been 
 originally intended. 
 
 One other result of the visit to Algiers was a water colour, the 
 subject-of which, if I remember rightly, was a boy in picturesque costume, 
 tending some goats, on a grassy slope overlooking the sea. As far as I 
 am aware, this drawing has never been exhibited. 
 
 Soon after his return. Walker's illness took a more acute form. 
 Added to this, the state of his mother's health was causing him great 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP, XV 
 
 
i87+ FREDERICK WALKER 293 
 
 anxiety. Indeed, the further history of the year is little more than a 
 chronicle of endurance. Let the story be told in his own words. 
 
 March 24, to Sir John Millais ^ : — 
 
 " Your kind letter came last night — most acceptable and comfortingy 
 believe me, and pray accept my warmest thanks. Of course I feel my 
 present position very acutely — a sad conclusion to months of effort, and 
 I fear that folks will judge me harshly ; but as you say, I must hope to 
 have the ' more next year.' I came back from Algiers thoroughly upset, 
 my stomach and liver appear to have been nowhere : the place seemed 
 never to agree with me, and this bronchitis completes matters. I haven't 
 seen any one, for I haven't been allowed to talk, and the doctor says I 
 must take every care of myself for the next two months ; but that once 
 well, I shall be better than I have been for a long time. Be sure I'll 
 gladly accept your invitation to see the pictures — will hope to call on one 
 afternoon this week." 
 
 April 5, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 
 " Your kind letter received yesterday, for which pray accept my warm 
 thanks. I have indeed been passing through a dreadful time of it as you 
 may guess, and I feel my position very acutely as to work. I should 
 have been glad to see you just now, had you been in town. I am allowed 
 to see friends for a short time. They seem to think I am going on quite 
 satisfactorily, but my spirits sink to that low ebb that I find it hard to 
 believe anything good. Let me have a line saying when you return. 
 My Mother is seriously ill here, and so my poor sister is hard driven, I 
 need not say." 
 
 May 20, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Your letter came to hand last night, and I write a few lines in 
 hopes they will reach you before you leave Algiers. It is just possible 
 that I may not be here when you arrive, for it is intended that I 
 get away as soon as the weather permit. I must tell you that I have had 
 a fearful time of it, and am terribly pulled down and shaky. ... It has 
 been altogether a very serious matter for me, and it will require a great 
 deal of W. wind and all favourable circumstances to bring me up again. 
 The Dr. has done all he can ; and, poor man, is only able to beg me to 
 make the best of it, hoping each day will bring a change, that being the 
 one and only thing required to bring me round, so of course this month 
 has been such as for cruel virulence doesn't often occur even here. I was 
 to have gone [and suppose I still shall go] to Tunbridge or Sevenoaks» 
 on the way to St. Leonards or some such place, and a friend has offered 
 a house in Cornwall, which later, perhaps, we may avail ourselves of, 
 
 1 As these sheets are under revision, the world is the poorer by the loss of him to 
 whom this letter was addressed ; and who said of Walker, " He was the greatest painter 
 of the century." 
 
294 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 but at present the journey would be far too long. What I have suffered 
 this month, it would be difficult to tell — the ' hope deferred,' the 
 weariness and each day's sameness, the sun often glaring into the house 
 quite hot, but the air outside just poisonous to my irritable throat. To- 
 day is quite the same as any other, parched and with that beastly look of 
 dirt in the air, and looking as if it might very well continue for another 
 month. Could we have foreseen all this, the Dr. says he would have 
 advised me to make a voyage to Madeira or some place, and would 
 suggest it now, but that we still hope that this cannot last. , . . 
 'Thursday list. I conclude this rather gloomy epistle. The weather 
 is just the same, worse if possible, being warm and 'muggy,' except 
 I suppose in the wind. It seems that such a May has not occurred for 
 50 years ; so be thankful that whatever annoyances you have had, you've 
 been out of it. . . . My Mother has been quite laid up, and scarcely 
 leaves her room yet, so you may guess what a time my dear sister has 
 had of it ; the whole real work falling upon her, and most nobly 
 performed. I sincerely hope that the venture has been, with you, a 
 success generally. You must have become acclimatised. . . . My sister 
 heard from a friend this morning, that the barometer was falling ; 
 blessed news if true, but it scarcely looks like it. Shall see your work 
 in due time if all goes well, and expect it will be a good jump forward ^ 
 
 At the end of May, Walker was able to make a move to Sevenoaks, 
 his sister accompanying him. On June 18, he wrote to Mr. Agnew, 
 from the White Hart Hotel : — 
 
 " Your letter forwarded has reached me here, for which many thanks. 
 We came away so suddenly, that I am sure you will excuse my sister's 
 not writing. This is more than a fortnight since, and only three or four 
 good days have we had here. Those days we took advantage of by 
 getting what the Dr. considers the first necessary thing for me now — air 
 and exercise — and the result was such that I began to look upon my 
 troubles as past ; but these most cruel winds have the effect of keeping 
 me indoors, and depressing me in a way I cannot describe ; the Dr. 
 only wonders that I have borne it so well. Altogether, last month and 
 this have been as bad for me as possible ; despite all this, I am slowly 
 gaining strength, and hope there may yet be warm sun and west wind 
 before the summer months are gone. Am most truly glad Mr, Street 
 has the ' Old Gate,' and through you. I had heard that it was to be 
 sold. As regards your proffered help, my dear Agnew, I scarcely know 
 what to say. I do want help, and a great deal too ; it harasses me 
 beyond measure now, when I most require peace. I had better write to 
 you on the subject in a few days I think. It is quite uncertain how long 
 we remain here — may move any day or hour seaward^ according to wind 
 and Dr.'s orders." 
 
 June 24, to his mother : — 
 
 "... I think it will be jolly for us all to be at Folkestone, and 
 
1874 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 295 
 
 Fan must fetch you, . . . there will be more resource there for me I am 
 sure, or at any rate I'm getting tired of this place after all the filthy 
 E. wind. . . . Am certainly considerably stronger, and the improve- 
 ment only shows me that I should have been a very different creature 
 by this time, if I had but been able to get W. wind and good daily 
 walks. ... I shall be going out sea-fishing I expect, at Folkestone, 
 since I can't do trout or salmon, though perhaps I may yet hope to get to 
 Alec. Stevenson's as the season gets old." 
 
 July 3, from Folkestone : — 
 
 "... You will like to hear from myself, dear, something about 
 myself, and it is not easy to give an account, for I do vary so in my 
 sensations, and sometimes feel so much better than at others — so well 
 sometimes as to feel anxious to get back and to work, . . . the long and 
 short of it being that a little more patience and some decent weather, 
 with good daily hot sun^ is what I really want." 
 
 July 18, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I'm sure you'll begin to think I have forgotten my promise to 
 write, but believe me I have not been unmindful, and I remember that 
 you had news from my Mater of me, before we came here ; and really 
 up to that time, a little more than a fortnight since, the whole thing was 
 a matter of such complete endurance, owing to the beastly weather, that 
 there was nothing to write about. I was entirely debarred from getting 
 any exercise, and at one time we thought we must give it up as a failure, 
 and return to town. Since coming here, there certainly have been some 
 good days, but others — the last three or four for instance — are too like 
 those of May and June : cold E. wind and bright sun, no real comfort 
 
296 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap. x\r 
 
 in being out. The place is the usual sea-side stuccoed affair — parade, 
 overdressed people, bad music, and shell-fish. . . . Work quite out of 
 the question. I don't think I ever was in a more impossible hole : stuccO' 
 everywhere, right away to dusty, melancholy-looking potato and corn fields, 
 with the well-known chalk downs of the S. coast in the distance. I gave 
 up all notion of work a week ago, up to which time I did really think 
 I'd find something, for I am getting impatient to begin again. Am strong 
 enough, thank God, to once more return to it I believe, though they have,, 
 perhaps very wisely, urged me to refrain from it as long as possible. . . . 
 It has altogether been a pretty time since the winter, has it not } I think 
 I have gone through every phase of misery and apprehension. Do let 
 me know how you are, my dear fellow, and how your work goes. We 
 shall be here for at least another week ; then perhaps to Surrey, in the 
 Godalming neighbourhood, or perhaps up Thames ; but really we are irt 
 a state of indecision. Back to town is of course out of the question just 
 now, and if I am to begin, it ought to be gently, on a wee water colour 
 I think — something to commence setting the pot simmering once more.. 
 My dear sister has been constantly with me, and will be I hope. My 
 Mother is with my married sister at Croydon at present. Whether she 
 joins me or not, will depend upon where I am, that is, if not too far 
 away for her." 
 
 In his History of the Old Water Colottr Society^ Mr. J. L. Roget gives 
 the following letter, dated from Folkestone, July 23, 1874, and addressed 
 to Mr. S. P. Jackson : — 
 
 " I fear I must give up the notion of being at the Thames side this, 
 season, for since I wrote to Leslie on the subject I have had a letter 
 from my doctor, who thinks I ought for this season to avoid the Thames 
 as ' lowering ' and ' relaxing,' compared with certain spots I have 
 mentioned to him as being good from an artistic point of view — and 
 as there is some chance of my going to Scotland a little later, perhaps it 
 is better for me to give up the notion." 
 
 On leaving Folkestone, Walker and his sister were for a short time 
 at the house of Mr. J. P. Heseltine, at Chiddingfold. From there they 
 went to Mr. Birket Foster's, and eventually found lodgings at Brook 
 Farm, Brook, near Godalming. 
 
 August 24, from Brook Farm, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " I ought to have written a long time since, if only to report 
 progress, but somehow I seem to have lately but little comfort in writing,, 
 for I have so little good news, and indeed so little to write about. And 
 now, although I am going on well — was going on admirably in every way 
 — I am in trouble about both my Mother and sister ; they are both here 
 and seriously ill. My sister was suddenly taken ill, in something of the 
 same manner as two or three years ago . . . and a bad relapse taking^ 
 place last Sunday night week, I really thought we should have lost her> 
 
i87+ FREDERICK WALKER 297 
 
 My poor Mother [who joined us here after we were fairly settled on 
 coming from Folkestone] attempted too much in the way of nursing, 
 and has utterly broken down, her state at one time being thought quite 
 critical ; so I am in a nice plight. Providence seems latterly to have 
 forsaken me. This is about the very worst state of things that could 
 have come about, just as, feeling myself again, I thought to commence 
 work once more. The: place is very lovely, crammed full of stuff for 
 work, but I am quite unmanned. I must not leave the place, although 
 I can do no good, and I am almost at my wits' end. I wish you were 
 here — I seem to need help and advice. The friends hereabouts are truly 
 kind, but I feel helpless and alone. The beauty of the place almost 
 seems to mock me, for I get on — not at all. We came for this 
 month . . . but how we are to move, I know not. I would willingly 
 pass next month here, would have been glad enough to stay even longer, 
 for as I say, it is lovely ; and only something like peace of mind wanted 
 to make work and enjoyment once more possible. This farm is at the 
 ommencement of a little sort of village, with its Inn, &c. ; and by the 
 way, although humble enough, the woman at the Inn said she might have 
 a bedroom ready. This is in case you should be able to come down — 
 this place is full, and like a hospital." 
 
 August 29, to Mr. North : — 
 
 *' A few lines just to acknowledge yours received this morning. I am 
 thankful to say they are both going on as well as can be expected, but 
 I do not think I ought to leave this place at present, though I might 
 join you later. I should be very glad to do so if all goes well, but 
 perhaps had best not speak with certainty. My Mother must be got to 
 town so soon as she can be moved, which may be perhaps in a week's 
 time ; but my sister will have to remain here, I think. I ought not to 
 leave her in that case, but meantime I will write you again. I am more 
 cheerful about them and myself too, than when I wrote. . . . Do not 
 then, my dear fellow, contemplate so long a journey, as I must make 
 up my mind to stay here just now — could not in any case go back with 
 you next week." 
 
 September 15, to Mr. North : — 
 
 " Just a few lines to say that we hope to get to town to-morrow, 
 although it will be a rather severe trial for the invalids, especially my 
 poor Mother. What I have gone through in this place I cannot tell 
 you. I shall have to take a thorough change, with or without work ; 
 do you happen to be coming to town .? I should be very glad to have 
 a talk with you, I seem to need counsel, and yearn to be away from 
 doctors, &c. Have done little or no work ; my constant state of 
 anxiety making it impossible. Should like to get away for a little while 
 with you, to Devonshire, for instance, when they are once fairly settled 
 at Bayswater, and have half a mind to telegraph to you, for goodnes 
 
298 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 only knows when this will reach you. I hate and detest this little place 
 in a way I can't describe ; am sure I could not endure it many days 
 longer, my nerves are utterly upset. I want your advice, and would 
 above all like a little holiday with you, if you could but spare the 
 time. 
 
 September 19, from London to Mr. North : 
 
 " I think that if all's going on well here, I had better leave on 
 Monday by the 11.45 from Paddington, and if you send me a line 
 to-morrow, I shall know on Monday morning whether you would join 
 me at Taunton or Exeter. ... I am feeling the reaction after this 
 dreadful time, and the Dr. says I certainly ought to go, and at once. 
 My Mother is very ill, and I scarcely like to leave my sister, but can do 
 no good here if I stay." 
 
 September 20, to Mr. Agnew : — 
 
 " Your letter was forwarded to me in Surrey, where 1 have been 
 staying since my sister and I left Folkestone. I have been going on 
 very well, and had commenced work again ; but you will, I know, 
 be sorry to learn that I have had a time of the very greatest anxiety 
 and trouble, on account firstly of my sister falling seriously ill, and my 
 poor Mother, in an attempt to nurse her, utterly broke down, and is 
 now, I fear, in quite a critical state. We got to town on Wednesday, 
 my Mother having to be carried to and from the train. I cannot tell you 
 of all that I have gone through since the beginning of August, but I am 
 quite upset, and the Doctor says I must get away as soon as I can, for 
 I am useless here and doing myself positive harm. I have commenced 
 some water colour work which I hope to show you in due time, but 
 I assure you that work was quite out of the question for any one in my 
 position — we were at a farm away from the help and comforts that 
 invalids expect. I have arranged to leave town to-morrow and join 
 North ; taking what I have commenced to Devonshire, where we shall 
 spend a short and I hope peaceful time. I should have had some work 
 finished by this time, but for this terrible business. A better time is 
 I hope coming now, for it has been a dreadful year to me." 
 
 The work begun at Brook was that to which Walker presently refers 
 as the " corner cupboard " subject, afterwards to be altered to The Rainbow. 
 Trite as the conceit may be, his use of the sign of promise under such 
 circumstances is not without its pathos. 
 
 From this point, unless otherwise mentioned, the letters are to his 
 sister Fanny. When Walker left London, he had seen his mother 
 for the last time. 
 
 September 22, from Torquay : — 
 
 " You had my telegram last evening I hope, saying that we had 
 arrived, &c. North was at Taunton, and from that, the journey to this 
 
1 87+ FREDERICK WALKER ■ 299 
 
 was short. He thought me looking better than he expected, knowing 
 what worry there's been. I only hope that my poor dear is not too 
 worried, that I am right in coming. North thinks I am, and that I 
 ought to pass at least a week in doing nothing but gentle exercise ; then 
 I propose going on to Woolstone, where I hope to go on with the water 
 •colour work. . . . We went this morning to Anstey's Cove, and North 
 was very pleased with the part, as I knew he would be ; but is still of 
 opinion that it is too much to begin upon now, that for my own sake 
 I'd better not begin at once to cope with so big a canvas. I cannot tell 
 you all he says, or the argument, but it is I think full of sound sense, 
 and is one reason why I wanted to come here with him. . . . North 
 thinks I ought to go on with and finish both the little garden subject 
 and the ' corner cupboard ' at Woolstone. ... As for my Missus, I can 
 only send her my fondest love and duty, and hope she will take it as 
 •easy as possible, as the surest way to getting about again." 
 
 The " little garden subject " was also, I believe, begun at Brook, 
 tut was never carried very far. 
 
 September 30 : — " Just a line, my own Fan, to acknowledge your 
 telegram, which made me feel much easier than when I had your letter. 
 Shall not leave this until Saturday I think, as I have got through some 
 work here, and can very well remain until then. It is quiet, and is 
 suiting me I think. . . . My poor dear Missus ! It worries me to 
 think she is not better ; you have but to tell me, my dear, whether 
 you would like me to come back. Give her all my love, and tell her that I 
 will of course be back by the next train if it would comfort her, or 
 rather, if there is anything I can do." 
 
 On the envelope containing the above letter, the following message 
 from his mother is written in pencil in his sister's handwriting : — " Her 
 kindest love and your coming would unsettle us all, all you have to do 
 is to keep well for all sakes." 
 
 October i : — " Shall leave this to-morrow. . . , The weather here 
 has changed — not nearly so nice — so think it best to go to-morrow 
 instead of on Saturday. Shall perhaps return here later, if I decide upon 
 any work I might get on with, but meanwhile shall do all I can at 
 Woolstone. Shall hope for favourable news of my dearest Missus 
 to-morrow." 
 
 October 4, from Woolstone : — 
 
 "... It's very quiet and peaceful here, and I am glad to get back : 
 scarcely a leaf is turned, but I fear this high cold wind will do much harm. 
 We went for a walk this morning, and made notes of the well-known 
 spots. . . . Sunday here is like Sunday elsewhere^ somewhat -prosy ; I 
 iiope you have been managing it pretty well. My tenderest love to my 
 
300 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap. x\r 
 
 Missus ; I don't write to her because I'm not going to bother her witK 
 letters till she's stronger." 
 
 October 5 : — " Just a few lines, my own Fan, to acknowledge yours, 
 of yesterday, which I received a little while ago, while returning from a 
 walk to Williton. The boy with the pony cart caught me up — he had 
 been for letters, &c., to Williton — so I read it as I walked along. Tell 
 my dearest Missus, in answer to her message, that ' a beast walks on four 
 legs,' and that soon, I hope, with Heaven's blessing, she will again be 
 quietly using her two. It has been a nice day here, and I felt this after- 
 noon incHned for a bit of a stretch, so left ofF work and went out by 
 myself, for poor North was very ' down ' about his work, and was trying; 
 to make an alteration that I had suggested. I am feeling ' quite myself ' 
 to-day. ... I am perfectly safe in Mrs. Thome's hands, I can tell you ; 
 her good old motherly ways would gladden the heart of our dear Missus. 
 .... The little corner cupboard subject is getting near completion, a 
 girl comes to-morrow to stand. I have slightly altered the intention of 
 the two figures : have made them looking at a rainbow that is seen 
 through the window — do you not remember my calling you to see one 
 at Brook .^ . . . And now, dear, I want you to hand this letter to our 
 Poll when next she comes, for I want her to do a little matter, that she 
 will gladly, I am sure, and I don't want you to be bothered by it, and. 
 insist upon your not having a hand in the matter. I want the canvas 
 that has the beginning of the ' Mushroom Gatherers ' sent here. ... I 
 hope I am not making a bother dear, in wanting this done, but I must 
 say I'd like it down here, if only to alter the shape, and work at indoors. 
 I mean to be very careful about working outdoors, and in fact have made 
 up my mind not to do so unless it happen to be both dry and warm. . . . 
 Well, dear, I intended this to be a little gossiping letter, but it's all 
 taken up with the above ; I know you won't mind. It's a sad time for 
 you, my Fan — your life would be a happy one if my wishes could bring 
 it about. It's post time now, and the boy is waiting." 
 
 October 7, to Mr. Agnew : — ■ 
 
 " . . . In a day or two, . , . thank Heaven, I hope to complete the 
 first water colour painting since my illness, and which I propose placing 
 at your service. It has been a frightful year for me up to this time, 
 but I am now able to enjoy my work, and hope to continue to do so- 
 either in town or hereabouts, during the winter. My Mother is, I am 
 grieved to say, in a very precarious state. I have news of her daily, 
 but her condition causes me the greatest anxiety ; they think it best for 
 me however, not to be in town just now, both for my own and my 
 work's sake, as I can do but little good in a sick house, and can only say 
 I am now recovering from the frightful anxiety I endured in Surrey. 
 Any work that I send to you, of course I should like to have for ex- 
 hibition ; this water colour for instance, I wish to send to our forthcoming 
 winter Exhibition in Pall Mall." 
 
i87+ FREDERICK WALKER 301 
 
 'The Rainbow — Walker's last water colour of an original subject — 
 ■duly appeared. . It was his sole exhibit this year. 
 
 October 8 : — " All right, and work going on well. . . . It is quiet 
 and peaceful here. I only wish you could participate in it, and perhaps 
 you will, my dear, when things are less gloomy. Keep up, dear, you 
 have my love and sympathy, be sure. I continually think of you, and 
 ■especially in the evenings." 
 
 October 1 2 : — " I have just received our Poll's letter. I quite under- 
 stand its contents, and fully agree with you both that it is best for me 
 not to go to you now. My tender love to my Missus, and if there is 
 anything I can do, mind and let me know. ... I am sure that the 
 •only thing I can do just now, is work here ; the weather keeps fine and 
 much dryer." 
 
 October 1 8 : — " * . . We went for a long walk this morning, going up 
 one of the Quantock hills ; a very lovely day it is, though autumnal, but 
 very enjoyable for walking. . . . Have been turning my attention to 
 the Mushroom canvas, and think I shall carry it through this time ; 
 there is already a whole lot of work on it, and North seems to think 
 I ought to find it pretty straightforward work. However, I must get 
 that little water colour ofF to Agnew, but it seemed to ' hang fire ' a bit ; 
 have not been able to get quite the models I want. ... I suppose I am 
 best here, my dear, but often wish I could be a little comfort to you 
 
 just now — had half an idea of running up, if only to see • to know 
 
 if he thinks I'm strong enough for the work I want to go in for ; but 
 then I pretty well seem to know what he'd say, and as I feel so much 
 my old self again, I shrink from more doctoring. Must simply take 
 ■every care of myself, and use my own judgment ; besides, I feel that 
 if I went to the Burgh just now, it would perhaps only unsettle and 
 excite the dear Missus." 
 
 October 21 : — " ... I wish you were less harassed, my Fan ; 
 I'd give a deal, I know, to have you passing quiet days here, if you did 
 not get sick of the sameness, of a different kind from yours. I couldn't 
 stand it this morning, and walked round by Williton a long way, and this 
 afternoon went to Stogumber. Had a fling at the Mushroom canvas 
 outdoors yesterday, it was mild and quiet, and I left off at 3, none the 
 worse. The man who went up with me to carry the canvas, I made stay 
 there ; he lay on the grass as if it had been a sofa, happy creature ! To- 
 day is awful, only fit for walking ; the wind enough to tear up the trees. 
 My poor dear Missus, what can I do — can only i^^\ miserable to know 
 what she and you go through. God bless you both. Do not forget, my 
 Fan, how much real work you are doing, and how perhaps the folks that 
 you mention as looking happy, are none the more so because their lives 
 are less useful." 
 
302 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap. x\r 
 
 October 25 : — " . . . Keep up, dear Fan, as well as you can ; command 
 me, your own devoted Fred, in anything you think I can do. You know 
 I am forgetful and all that, but I hope not wanting in the right love for 
 you, and the sense of what you and my poor Missus are both going 
 through." 
 
 November i : — " . . . Of course, dear, I am dreadfully worried about 
 the dearest Missus, but quite understand about not going to you ; but if 
 she expresses any wish to see me, I am sure you will let me know. . . . 
 God bless you, my Fan. He does in one sense, by giving you the power 
 to help and comfort those who need it ; the happiest life is that which is 
 most unselfish, and therefore containing least reason for self-reproach." 
 
 November 4 : — " I know you'll like a few words, my Fan, if only to 
 say all's well here. No news ; we're both pretty comfortable, the weather 
 good, but rather cold this morning. We play at dominoes before going 
 to bed. You'll say we are old fogies, and so we are. My tender love to 
 my poor dear, and to yourself." 
 
 November 5 : — " Do not be under any apprehension that I do not 
 fully realise the state of my poor darling. I know it too well, and have 
 been quite prepared for the worst since I have been here. I am perfectly 
 certain that all that could be done, has been, and am sure you may 
 
 rest all confidence in ; he thought matters very grave when he was 
 
 called down to Brook. I had his letter this morning, and one almost 
 entirely on the subject, a short time since. He says [in that of this 
 morning] that I may rest assured everything possible is being done. It 
 can only render matters more sad, to have any misgivings now. I have 
 none ; my only fear is that it is too much for you, my Fan. There can 
 be no room for regrets ; certainly none in your case, and your love must 
 be now tempered with resignation. I am best here, I am sure of that, for 
 I should only be in the way. Am anxious enough here, but am at least 
 doing some work, which would probably not be the case in town ; so da 
 not think about me, my Fan, and do not write more than you think 
 necessary. Have been at a standstill rather with the two little figures 
 in the wee * rainbow ' subject, but a woman stood a short time to- 
 day, and I think I have managed that. It is warm and gentle here 
 — we went for a little walk last night, and saw some glowworms. 
 Shall have our mild game of dominoes I suppose, when we have done 
 writing." 
 
 November 6 : — " ... A most splendid day it has been. We went 
 for the usual little stroll after breakfast, and the air was so sweet and 
 fresh, we walked to Watchet to have a look at the sea, and home over 
 the hillside. Were out all the morning, for we could not resist it, and I 
 am sure the time was well spent. How often I thought of you and my 
 poor dear ! " 
 
1874 FREDERICK WALKER 303 
 
 November 8 : — " ... I did hope to have told you that one of the 
 water colours was finished by this, but it still wants a day or two's 
 careful work. Shall send it directly on to Agnew ; you'll see it later no 
 doubt." 
 
 November 1 1 : — " It has been a miserable day here, with a fierce N. 
 wind, heavy clouds, and showers of rain and hail. ... I have been 
 at work upon the little water colour ; it's nearly finished now, and I 
 am getting quite pleased with it, for I have made more out of it than I 
 expected. I am sorry that you should not see it before it goes tO' 
 Agnew, for I am a little undecided [as usual you'll say] what ta 
 ask him for it. I wish my poor darling could see it, and see 
 that at least one little bit of good was got out of that miserable 
 Brook." 
 
 November 12 : — *' ... It has been a fine bright day, but rather a 
 bracing one ; the glass which we have outside our sitting-room window 
 being nearly down to freezing-point this morning ; but we had a bit of a 
 walk before work, and another on leaving off. I keep on touching and 
 touching on the water colour, and feel that it must go, so it shall 
 either to-morrow or next day. ... I wish you could have seen the 
 beautiful evening colour and effect we enjoyed as we walked home 
 this evening ; suggestive of glorious * old masters ' in front, and great 
 solemn blue hills, with a thin golden young moon in the amber sky, 
 that dipped herself behind the said hills as we came down to the 
 moor. I fear I felt it chiefly that every one could not enjoy the love- 
 liness." 
 
 November 1 3 : — " ... I am quite satisfied since receiving yours and 
 dear Sally's, Am sure I am right in being here, and quite understand how 
 much anguish I am spared." 
 
 November 17 : — "I expect I shall be with you, my dearest Fan, 
 I don't see how I can remain here. . . . North persuaded me not 
 to go up to-night, when the first telegram came, and he since tells 
 me that he felt sure all was done that could be, indeed that the 
 first telegram was to prepare me. God's will be done, I have been 
 prepared." 
 
 Mrs. Walker died on the evening of the 1 6th at the age of sixty-six. 
 Although she had not been wholly spared the pain of seeing yet another 
 son's declining health, the final sorrow was at least withheld from her. She 
 had lived to see her hopes in this her gifted son fulfilled, her belief in 
 him justified ; she had shared in the triumphs she had helped him to win : 
 her work was done. 
 
 It was Walker's wish [as indeed it was the wish of all] that his mother 
 should be buried at Cookham, and on me fell the duty of accompanying 
 her remains by night — the first of three such journeys on a similar errands 
 
304 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xv 
 
 We left London on the evening of November 20. It was a strange 
 journey ; the market carts slowly rumbling towards town, their tarpaulins 
 covered with hoar frost ; the night house where the carters refreshed them- 
 selves ; the hushed villages with here and there a light in a window, telling 
 of night watches ; the long lines of hedgerows bordering the silent fields. 
 Before reaching Maidenhead, the fog was so thick, that one of the men 
 with a lantern had to lead the horse, and only a whitening of the mist as 
 we neared Cookham showed that the day was breaking. Reverently our 
 burden was laid to well-earned rest. 
 
 In the succeeding letters much must be passed over. 
 
 November 19 : — " ... I have the comfort of telling you that I sent 
 off the water colour to Agnew, registered by post. North went with me, 
 for it was very blustering, and he had enough outdoor work this morning. 
 I had worked and touched upon the water colour a good deal, and of 
 course have not been able to do much just now, and North persuaded me 
 to give it up as impossible to carry it farther," 
 
 November 20 : — " ... Went for a good walk this afternoon — went 
 through Williton— and having to get stamps, I bought the local paper 
 and posted it to you. I only did it because I thought the mixture of con- 
 ceit and stupidity might amuse you for a minute. Friday evening is 
 always made important to Mrs. Thorne by its arrival ; of course every 
 place and person named therein are familiar to her. I took up the ever- 
 lasting Mushroom canvas again to-day, and suppose that eventually it 
 will come to something. ... I have found it very difficult to remain 
 here, but have forced myself, knowing that it is best. . . . Keep up 
 your courage, my Fan, and feel the warm comfort of knowing that you 
 have been doing your duty to the utmost, and under overwhelming 
 difficulties." 
 
 November 11 : — " ... It has been a dull melancholy day here, 
 rather depressing. We went out before dinner ; found some wild roses, 
 rather unusual at this time of year — quite a cluster. It sounds bad what 
 you say about the fog yesterday, but perhaps the weather will alter, and so 
 allow me to come up. I confess I would like a little change of some sort. 
 I am feeling pretty well ; very well considering. I have known all 
 through that it was best for me to remain here, though I felt it cruelly 
 •enough." 
 
 November 2^ :— " . . . I have been going on with the Mushroom 
 canvas, and begin to see what I can make of it. Can do it all indoors I 
 think, for I intend making slight sketches and memoranda where necessary." 
 
 As will have been already gathered, the "Mushroom canvas" was 
 "never completed. The nearest approach to a finished picture of the 
 subject which had been so long in Walker's thoughts, is the well-known 
 study, in oil on paper, which has been etched by Mr, Macbeth, The date 
 
iS7+ 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 305 
 
3o6 LIFE AND LETTERS OF FREDERICK WALKER ch. xv 
 
 of this study cannot be given with accuracy, probably it was begun as 
 early as 1868. It was among the remaining effects which were sold at 
 Christie's. 
 
 At the end of November, Walker went to town for a couple of days. 
 On his return he wrote, December 4 : — 
 
 "... It has been a jolly day here, mild and quiet. I did a wee bit 
 of work this morning, and this afternoon we went for quite a long walk. 
 We are none the worse for our journey yesterday, and it is pleasant to find 
 it not frosty, and the geese rampant by the brook opposite. Mrs. T. 
 is very glad to get us back again, she says— her occupation is gone when 
 we are away. I brought down a lot of things, including the photo of 
 'The Old Gate,' and am going to make a small light-coloured replica, if 
 possible in time for the Exhibition. We have just had dinner, and the 
 dog is snoring on the rug, aldermanically ^ and North is scribbling away 
 opposite to me." 
 
 The " small light-coloured replica " developed into a most carefully 
 iinished reproduction of the oil picture. It was yet another instance of 
 the way in which Walker's conscientiousness urged him to improve upon 
 his original idea. 
 
 The remaining letters of the year relate chiefly to another attack of 
 illness from which Walker suffered shortly after his return to Woolstone. 
 It was from the local doctor who was now called in, Mr. North first 
 learnt that Walker's lungs were affected. When in London, it had been 
 arranged that his sister should join him in a few days. Her visit was, 
 however, postponed from time to time in consequence of his illness, as 
 he was unwilling that she should leave London until his health had been 
 .so far restored as to allow her to take a much-needed rest. The im- 
 provement he looked for was slow in coming, and when, on December 17, 
 she joined him, it was again to minister to his needs. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 1875 . 
 
 By the beginning of February, Walker had fairly recovered from the 
 ■effects of his late illness. On February i, he wrote from Woolstone to 
 Mr. Phillips :— 
 
 "... I little knew when I saw you, what I should suffer ; have 
 had a bad illness since. . . . and had to be attended by the local doctor. 
 He . . . says I need thorough change and peace of mind^ the latter of 
 the utmost importance, and most difficult to get. Says that's all I want, 
 and that my state otherwise is all right." 
 
 A day or two after this, he went to London. With renewed 
 strength had come the desire for work. It is possible that while at 
 Woolstone he had further advanced the water colour of The Old Gate ; 
 at any rate he was at work on the drawing after his return to London, 
 completing it in time for the Summer Exhibition of the Old Water 
 ■Colour Society — his last exhibited water colour. 
 
 After some six weeks in town. Walker and his sister returned to 
 Woolstone. The place where he had so often found peace and rest, and 
 for which, as his letters show, he had so great an affection, was to furnish 
 the material for yet another picture — The Right of Way. Whether this, 
 his last oil picture, had been begun before he left Woolstone in P'ebruary, 
 cannot be ascertained. Mr. North was not at Woolstone when the picture 
 was painted, and only knew the subject of it after it had been sent in to 
 the Royal Academy. As the weather so early in the year would have 
 been against out-of-door work for one in Walker's state of health, it is 
 probable it had not. If he did not begin the picture until after his 
 return to Woolstone, about the middle of March, the fact that it was 
 sufficiently finished to be sent to the Royal Academy early in April says 
 much for the rapidity with which he could work at times. It seems 
 somewhat strange that, with Mushroom Gatherers and The Peaceful 
 Thames so far on their way, these subjects should have been discarded in 
 favour of one of which there is no previous mention. 
 
 As The Right of Way is no longer in England, having been purchased 
 ty the Public Library, Museums, and National Gallery of Victoria,' 
 Melbourne, a few words of description may not be out of place. The 
 
 X 2 
 
3o8 
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XVI 
 
 X 
 
'/:> 
 
 FREDERICK WALKER 309 
 
 scene is a meadow, the time early spring. Through the meadow, winding 
 its way into the picture, runs one of those little streams that Walker 
 Joved. In the foreground, a woman, bare-footed and carrying a basket 
 of eggs, throws one arm round a little boy who clings to her, frightened 
 at the approach of an aggressive ewe, which, in defence of her lamb, 
 disputes the right of way. The child's fear is echoed in the attitude of a 
 quaint little dog looking out from behind him. Some rising ground on 
 the left beyond the stream, other sheep and lambs in the meadow, farm 
 buildings in mid-distance, and the tower of Sampford Brett Church on 
 the right, make up the picture. As one stands at the point of view from 
 which the picture was painted, on the right and looking slightly back- 
 wards, can be seen the grand old quarry which forms the background of 
 The Plough. 
 
 Though unpretentious in subject, and far from finished, there were 
 not wanting those who recognised the picture's charm. Let me give 
 one more quotation from the criticism of the day : — " If one wished to 
 see how, with the slightest materials, and with no great pretence of 
 minute accuracy, an artist can transform a landscape into a poem, one has 
 only to look at Mr. Frederick Walker's Right of Way [25]. There are 
 the yellow stars of the celandine gleaming in the soft green meadows, but 
 one does not stay to count their petals : there are young lambs playing 
 about in the grass, but one does not stay to see how their eyes or their 
 ears are painted ; it is enough that we have before us a vision of the 
 Spring-time, real enough to recall the Spring-times of our youth, and full of 
 all the wonder and tender mystery and charm that memory throws around 
 our recollections of the opening of the year." 
 
 One other drawing remains to be mentioned ; the water colour of the 
 figures on the terrace, from The Harbour of Refuge. This drawing was 
 among W^alker's effects at the time of his death, and was disposed of at 
 the sale at Christie's. A letter written shortly afterwards speaks of it 
 as the last work on which he was engaged. 
 
 After sending The Right of Way to the Royal Academy, Walker was 
 for a short time at Brighton, but was in town for the varnishing day and 
 the private view. On May 4, he wrote to Mr. H. E. Watts : — 
 
 "... I have done enough talking and seeing pictures lately, to make 
 a little holiday up the Thames yesterday very sweet indeed. When are 
 you at home } I did think of going to Italy, but it is getting so late in 
 the season as to be too hot I fancy. Shall be here, I expect, for the next 
 week, although each day makes me more unsettled, and I want to begin 
 some work outdoors. It is an age since I saw you ; tell me, if you have 
 time, how we can meet. I had a little trout fishing in Surrey the other 
 day, and want some more." 
 
 May 6, also to Mr. Watts : — 
 
 "All being well I'll join you at the Savile Club to-morrow for 6.30. 
 
3IO LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xvi 
 
 I'd have written before, but thought to call at Pall Mall this afternoon 
 on chance of seeing you I don't know what to say about Scotland, but 
 we can at any rate talk over possibilities. That I'd like to go, I need 
 not say." 
 
 In the end it was arranged that Walker should join Mr. Watts at 
 Perth, on the way to St. Fillans, and he left London on May lo. 
 
 On May 12, he wrote to his sister from the Drummond Arms, St.. 
 Fillans, Loch Earn : — 
 
 " Just a line. Watts is waiting, and the post here goes at the absurd 
 hour of 3. Am all right and the weather ditto ; a W, wind, but not 
 much sport as yet. The air is sweet and with splendid hills all round 
 the loch. I don't think we shall remain here long unless there's good 
 sport, but get on to Loch Tay or somewhere else." 
 
 May 14: — ". . . I am feeling rested, and enjoy the quiet of this, 
 place, though the sport is poor. . . . My bedroom looks out on to the 
 lake and to the great frowning hills opposite ; the hills very like those on 
 the Spean, the same beautiful colour with granite peeping through the 
 surface here and there. The cuckoo's note is to be heard here, only he 
 sounds faint and small compared with what we hear of him southwards. 
 Lots of primroses in the lower ground, and the trees about as forward as 
 when I left town. Watts is nice to be with, he seems unselfish and gentle. 
 He has told me a great deal about Australian life, and what he 
 experienced on the other side of the globe. He is sure that if I could 
 afford the time, a twelvemonth spent in a voyage there and back and a 
 holiday at Australia and Tasmania would do me more good, mentally 
 and bodily, than anything. The climate must indeed, from what he says,, 
 be glorious ; he only wishes he were going out again. November is the 
 best time, and there are splendid sailing ships that go round the Cape of 
 Good Hope. To-day is the gentlest morning we have had, scarcely any 
 wind, indeed the loch looks rather ' ily,' but we're going out some 
 distance." 
 
 After Walker left for Scotland his sister came to stay with us at 
 Croydon, On Whit Monday, May 17, after spending the evening with 
 some friends, we returned home to find a telegram awaiting us saying 
 Walker had been taken seriously ill, and that his sister's presence was 
 necessary. It was too late for her to start that night. She left London 
 next morning by the first train, but could not get further that night than 
 Perth, where Mr. Watts met her. She reached St. Fillans on the 
 Wednesday. 
 
 For the following account of what had happened I am indebted tO' 
 Mr. Watts. He writes : — 
 
 "In the early May of 1875 I planned with Walker a short fishing 
 
1875 FREDERICK WALKER 311 
 
 trip in the Highlands. We met at the Savile Club to discuss the project. 
 He looked to me then very ill — more ill than I had ever seen him — and 
 I did not think he would be able to come with me. He seemed, how- 
 ever, very eager for the expedition, to which he looked forward with much 
 delight. We parted without any definite promise on his part, but it was 
 understood that I was to await a telegram from him at Perth before pro- 
 ceeding farther. On the morning of my arrival at Perth I received, what 
 I hardly expected, a telegram from Walker, saying that he had made up 
 his mind to join me, and asking me to meet him at the station that 
 evening. He looked very ill on arrival, so much so that I felt some 
 dismay and compunction at having tempted him from home. We slept 
 at Perth, and next morning started for Crieff, whence we took the coach 
 to St. Fillans, on Loch Earn side. Walker seemed much better, and was 
 in his usual high spirits at the prospect of sport. We fished a little that 
 afternoon in the loch, and for two or three days after, intending to go 
 on farther to some salmon fishing which had been promised us on 
 Loch Tay. One night we sat up rather late at the inn discussing the 
 scheme of our journey, of which the next stage was to be Dalmally. He 
 talked of his art, and of some projected subjects for painting. He asked me 
 to tell him of my experiences in New Zealand, and seemed to be especially 
 interested in my description of the beautiful island of Kawau in the Bay 
 of Auckland — the island Eden lately possessed by Sir George Grey. The 
 luxuriant vegetation of strange and novel forms, the virgin forests, with 
 their tangle of lush greenery, the rich colours of the native flora, with the 
 rata blooms throwing a crimson shade over the silver shingle — all these, 
 the new and unconventional features in the wild landscape, in a land 
 scarcely touched by the foot of man, seemed to attract very strongly the 
 imagination of Walker. He questioned me over and over again minutely 
 as to the details of the scene, telling me that he had conceived the idea 
 of a picture to be called The Unknown Land, which was to represent a 
 party of immigrants landing on some shore where all the features of 
 nature were new and unfamiliar. We sat up till past 12 o'clock talking 
 of this subject — Walker full of life and enthusiasm. 
 
 " The next Sunday we spent in rambling about the shores of the 
 loch, and arranging our tackle. In the afternoon, in a bright warm sun, 
 we strolled to the opposite side of the loch, and sat down on the bank 
 with our pipes. On getting up to return to the inn, I was in advance. 
 Nearing the little bridge which crosses the river flowing out of the loch, 
 I turned and saw that Walker was some distance behind me, walking 
 very slowly, with a handkerchief to his mouth. When he came up I 
 perceived that his handkerchief was stained with blood. Walker looking 
 very pale and frightened. I asked him what was the matter, and he 
 seemed to have a difficulty in speaking, but made light of the blood, 
 saying that he had been thus seized with a bleeding before. I led 
 him to the inn, which fortunately was only a few yards distant, and took 
 him up-stairs to his bedroom. I helped to undress him and put him to 
 bed, not knowing what to do and being more frightened than he was. 
 
312 LIFE JND LETTERS OF chap, xvi 
 
 During all this time, and especially when he moved or attempted to 
 speak, the hasmorrhage continued. With some difficulty, it being the 
 the Sabbath, I engaged a lad to fetch the local doctor — there was none 
 nearer than at Comrie, which was some six or seven miles distant. The 
 doctor came somewhat late in the evening, and prescribed some simple 
 remedies, in which I could see that poor Walker had no more faith than 
 in their prescriber. All that night I passed, as I did the next night, in 
 Walker's bedroom, being afraid to leave him, though much distrustful 
 of my own qualifications as nurse. The second day I felt that some- 
 thing more had to be done, so with Walker's consent I telegraphed to 
 a friend at Perth to send up at once the best available medical man in 
 that district. There came Dr. Gardiner from Crieff, a very well-known 
 and highly qualified Perthshire physician, who, after a careful examina- 
 tion of Walker, took, as I saw, a very serious view of his condition. A 
 nurse was sent for, to my very great relief, and everything was done 
 which was possible in that remote Highland village to make the patient 
 comfortable, who, all this time, was never able to leave his bed or take 
 any nourishment except milk, any exertion on his part, to talk or to 
 move, bringing on a fresh flow of blood from the lungs. At Dr. Gardiner's 
 instance. Walker's sister was telegraphed for from London, arriving at 
 St. Fillans on Wednesday. 
 
 " There is little more to tell of the story, which is one of the saddest 
 in my experience. I had to return to London after some days, but 
 received daily notes of Walker's health from his devoted sister." 
 
 The last letter that Walker wrote lies before me. It is written in 
 pencil and speaks for itself : — 
 
 " My poor dear. You'll be quite worn out, but Watts will be able 
 to tell you I'm better, and if you take no harm I shall soon be all right 
 with you near me. I did not want to send for you but they seemed to 
 think it best. Watts is waiting. All love to my dear. F." 
 
 A fortnight of suspense, relieved occasionally by more hopeful news, 
 followed Fanny Walker's departure from Croydon. The evening of 
 June 3 brought a telegram which prepared us for the worst. Walker 
 died at St. Fillans at half-past five in the morning of Friday, June 4, on 
 the ninth day after the completion of his thirty-fifth year. The entry in 
 the register states the cause of death to have been phthisis. 
 
 In the evening of that day, after giving such notice of his death 
 as the limited time allowed, I left London for St. Fillans. On my arrival 
 the next afternoon, his sister took me to the room looking " out on to 
 the lake," where lay the remains of my dear friend, and, as I cannot help 
 thinking, one of the greatest painters England ever produced. His sister 
 had arranged everything, there was nothing left for me to do, and in 
 a couple of hours we began our homeward journey, reaching St. Peters- 
 burgh Place on Sunday morning. 
 
 The funeral took place at Cookham on Tuesday, June 8, the remains 
 
1875 
 
 FREDERICK fVALKER 
 
 ?>^Z 
 
 having been taken down overnight. A bright fresh morning, contrasting 
 "with the sadness of our errand, ushered in a day such as Walker loved. 
 The coffin was taken to the little sitting-room in the cottage of one 
 of his old Cookham friends ; and there later in the day, came those whom 
 love of him and of his work had brought from town. But for the short 
 notice more would have been present at the funeral, though no numbers 
 could have added to the impressiveness of the scene — impressive from its 
 absolute simplicity. As we stood around the open grave and saw the 
 sheep browsing among the grassy mounds, glimpses here and there of the 
 river he delighted in, the wealth of early summer lit up by a glorious 
 •sun ; in addition to their affection for the man, none but must have felt 
 the pity of it that the painter whose figures had found fit setting in such 
 surroundings, whose insight had revealed to us new meaning in rural 
 •scenes and rustic labour, whose unsullied art had been a brightness in 
 our lives, should have been taken ere he had reached the fulness 
 •of his prime. After more than twenty years have passed, one who was 
 present writes : — " The way in which all gave way to uncontrollable 
 ■emotion, which found its vent in tears, was an incident never to 
 forget." 
 
 When all was over, we were told that Mr. H. H. Armstead, then 
 A.R.A., had offered, as a labour of love, to execute the medallion portrait 
 now in Cookham Church. 
 
314 LIFE ANT) LETTERS OF chap, xvi 
 
 Whatever may be the verdict of posterity on Walker, it is doubtful 
 whether the death of any painter of recent times has evoked from the 
 press a greater unanimity of praise. Much might be quoted in support 
 of this ; the following extracts must, however, suffice : — 
 
 The Times said : — " To-day will be laid in the secluded churchyard 
 of Cookham, by the side of his mother and one of his brothers, Frederick 
 Walker, A.R.A., a young painter of rare genius, cut off prematurely in 
 the springtide of his powers. At little more than thirty Walker had 
 already made his power felt in three fields of art — as a designer on wood 
 and as a painter in water-colours and in oil — in a way possible only to 
 genius. His later achievements as a painter have gone far to override 
 the recollection of his earlier work as a designer on wood ; but in this 
 character he had the same wide and well-marked influence on his contem- 
 poraries and successors as he had already had on the younger generation 
 of our water-colour painters, and as he promised, and had indeed already 
 begun to exert upon the oil painters of his time." 
 
 The Standard : — " No truer artist in the highest meaning of the term 
 has England ever produced — none who wrought more earnestly and 
 patiently in the lofty and difficult path he had chosen for himself. It is 
 perhaps scarcely just to his memory to say that he was not popular. He 
 had certainly begun to be so even among those who were unskilled in 
 appreciating all the tender grace and the exquisite delicacy and grace of his 
 work. From the date of the first important picture which he exhibited 
 at the Royal Academy, The Lost Path^ his merits have been recognised 
 by an ever increasing circle of admirers, and they have been those whose 
 admiration passed the bounds of assthetic sympathy into a feeling of 
 personal love and respect for the artist." 
 
 The Pall Mall Gazette : — " Among those who care for what is best in 
 English painting there can be but one feeling as to the gravity of the loss. 
 This is not the time to attempt a full or critical estimate of the painter's 
 powers, but it may be safely said that for some years past he has stood in 
 the very front rank of English artists. There was something in the 
 nature of Mr. Walker's talent which compelled the admiration of every 
 school of artistic opinion, and it would be impossible to name any other 
 painter of the time whose merits were so universally and so generously 
 admitted. This is especially true of the praise of brother artists. With 
 the public his fame, although considerable, is still short of its due mea- 
 sure ; for Mr. Walker, although he treated the simplest and commonest 
 themes, had no command over those qualities that claimed for a picture 
 instant and loud applause. But with the more attentive students of con- 
 temporary art his extraordinary gifts have long been respectfully and 
 warmly acknowledged. That the works he has produced will survive the 
 praise of the hour, there can, we think, be little doubt ; for joined to a- 
 
i875 FREDERICK WALKER 315 
 
 delicate perception of pictorial beauty, Mr. Walker had a stronger hold 
 on reality than almost any of his contemporaries could boast." 
 
 The Examiner : — " The past week has witnessed the death of one of 
 the truest artists England ever possessed. . . . No painter ever had a 
 more rapid and decisive influence upon his contemporaries. His manner 
 in every branch of his art was of such fascinating originality that others 
 quickly followed in the lines he had laid down. He had formed a school 
 of drawing before he took to painting, and he had attracted followers in 
 water-colour before he was known as a painter in oil. The truth of his 
 art was so undeniable, its imaginative quality so unobtrusively expressed, 
 that it at the same time both compelled and encouraged imitation. Other 
 painters hastened to occupy the new ground that he had made his own, 
 but in spite of all rivalry it remained his own to the last." 
 
 On the Friday after the funeral, Mr. Agnew and my eldest brother 
 met me at the studio for the purpose of selecting such of Walker's 
 remaining works as could be sold at Christie's. It was at once decided 
 that At the Bar could not be sent. The works selected were : eighty 
 drawings in pen and ink, pencil, and sepia ; thirty-nine sketches in water 
 colour, including two designs for The Unknozvn Land^ the original design 
 for l^he Harbour of Refuge^ and the drawing of the figures on the terrace^ 
 on which Walker had been last engaged. The oil studies were six 
 in number, and included the canvas of The Unknown Land^ and the land- 
 scape and advanced study for Mushroom Gatherers. There were also six 
 etched plates, amongst them that which was the forerunner of Wayfarers. 
 The sale took place on July 17. There was a large attendance of artists 
 and other admirers, and the prices realised were very high. The Right of 
 Way., then in the Royal Academy, was by a misunderstanding included in 
 the catalogue, but was withdrawn at the sale. 
 
 In order to give effect to Mr, Armstead's offer to execute the medal- 
 lion portrait, a meeting was held at the Arts Club on June 1 7, at which 
 an executive committee, mostly composed of artists, was appointed, and a 
 subscription list opened. Later in the year, the committee issued a 
 circular inviting the loan of Walker's works for exhibition — the exhibition 
 so often referred to as that of 1876 — for which Mr. Deschamps kindly 
 placed his Gallery, 168 New Bond Street, at the disposal of the committee. 
 As, towards the end of December, the pictures arrived at the Gallery, the 
 opinion of the committee was I believe unanimous, that Walker stood 
 even higher than they had thought. 
 
 The exhibition was opened early in January, and all who had laboured 
 to do honour to Walker's name were amply rewarded by its success : it 
 is still spoken of as something that stands apart in the memory. Even to 
 those who had delighted in his works during the previous twelve years, the 
 exhibition of them collectively came almost as a revelation. The request 
 of the committee had been so generously responded to, that a more com- 
 plete display of any artist's life's work can have been seldom seen. Of 
 previously exhibited works but eight were absent, while there were many 
 
.316 LIFE AND LETTERS OF chap, xvi 
 
 which were here seen for the first time. The series of exhibited oil 
 pictures was complete with the exception of y^/ f/ie Bar; and a fully 
 representative collection of wood drawings showed Walker's progress in 
 this branch of art. The press was unanimous in its recognition of his 
 genius. Trying as was the test of such an exhibition, the outcome proved 
 him, in the opinion of his contemporaries, to be worthy of enduring fame. 
 And, though this will seem small praise to those who hold that art is a 
 thing apart from the subjects of which it treats, there was not a line in 
 the exhibition but spoke of purity of purpose and a refined mind. 
 
 The success of the exhibition woke an echo in the old Woolstone 
 home. Good, motherly Mrs. Thorne wrote : — " There is great praise 
 and talk about the lovely Pictures down here, I feel so proud to hear it." 
 " Thank you, Dear Miss Walker, for the Paper ; that part of it about 
 the Dear young Gentleman's Pictures I have very carefully preserved. 
 Oh how pleased I am always to hear his great praise ! and what must 
 jour joy be .^ Dear Soul, he was too clever to live, I fancy — everything 
 bespoke him." 
 
 My story would be incomplete without further mention of the last 
 survivor of the St. Petersburgh Place household. For a time, the 
 necessity of attending to her brother's affairs, and later on, the absorbing 
 interest of the exhibition, acted so far beneficially on Fanny Walker that, 
 about Christmas, she seemed to be recovering something of her wonted 
 spirits. It was, however, but for a time. When it came to settling 
 down to the daily round of life under such altered circumstances, her 
 strength was unequal to the task. During the following summer, her 
 mind became unhinged, and an illness similar to that from which she had 
 previously suffered, brought the end. She died in my house at Croydon 
 on September 6, 1876, and thus all three passed away in less than two 
 years. My third night journey to Cookham was to lay her by the side 
 of those she loved. 
 
 If it be asked, how did Walker's personality strike one who knew 
 him as I did, the answer will, I think, be found in a perusal of the fore- 
 going pages. Any traits of character which the letters seemed to me to 
 illustrate, I have been careful to give, and where he has so fully spoken 
 for himself, I can add but little. Much, too, depends upon the point of 
 view : mine was perhaps too near for me to be altogether impartial. 
 The reader will form his own estimate of Walker's character, unbiassed 
 by the opinion of others. Mr. Hodgson, who also knew him, found 
 him, " often trying," and " not altogether lovable." Trying, yes : it is 
 a way genius has. Palissy, when he tore up his floor boards for fuel, 
 must have somewhat interfered with the domestic arrangements, and it 
 is conceivable that Shakespeare was occasionally irregular at meal times, 
 and in other ways transgressed the rules of a well-ordered house. 
 Lovable : he was lovable to those who were nearest to him, he was 
 certainly lovable to me. Of his faults, if it could not be said with 
 truth " a friendly eye would never see such faults," to see them rightly 
 was to recognise that they sprang from that temperament that helped to 
 
FREDERICK WALKER 
 
 317 
 
 make him what he was — an artist to the tips of his " poor nail-less 
 fingers." They were faults of temperament, not of heart. For all its. 
 little outbursts of petulance, it was a gentle nature. Few men spoke 
 less evil. Like Charity, he sought not his own, he vaunted not himself, 
 was not puffed up. For ever striving to reach a high ideal, his con- 
 ception of the possibilities of his art contrasted with his own achieve- 
 ments, and bred in him humility. If ambition, not for personal gain, 
 but to become a worthy labourer in the world of beauty, be a fault, it 
 was his. To Mr. Leslie he said, " My ambition is to be the top of all, 
 and if I live, I will." In his evening walks with Mr. North among the- 
 Somersetshire hills, he felt depressed at his dissociation from the star-lit 
 universe above him, and like the lark beating his wings against his prison 
 bars, impatience at the limitation of man's powers. 
 
 Let the companion of those walks here give his estimate of his- 
 friend. 
 
 " Still some few, now very few, of the villagers remember him, 
 describe his rapid m.ovements, his horror of observation, his fiery expostu- 
 lation at any petty act of cruelty or meanness. In my thought, after 
 all these years, he remains a very clear and noble figure, without a trace 
 of meanness. Hasty, impatient, with a grand contempt for paltry worldli- 
 ness ; and absolutely, in the truest sense, unselfish." 
 
 My task is ended, and these records of a life pass from my keeping 
 — let me trust not altogether to unsympathetic hearts. Have I been 
 faithful to my charge '^. Have I, in the choice of his own words, and in 
 what I myself have written, given a true picture of the man as he was ? 
 I cannot tell. I can only say that, with the fullest sense of responsibility 
 upon me, I have striven to do my best. Such as my labours are, I place 
 them as a tribute on his grave. 
 
LIST OF WALKER'S EXHIBITED WORKS 
 
 Year of 
 
 Exhibition. Title. Where Exhibited. 
 
 1863 The Lost Path Royal Academy. 
 
 1864 Spring Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition 
 
 Garden Scene Ditto Ditto 
 
 Refreshment Ditto Ditto 
 
 Scene from "Philip." (Philip in 
 
 Church) Ditto Ditto 
 
 Sketch. (My Front Garden) .... Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 Sketch for Denis Duval. (Denis's 
 
 Valet) Ditto Ditto 
 
 1865 Autumn Ditto Summer Exhibition. 
 
 Moss Bank near Torquay .... Ditto Winter Exhiljition. 
 
 i866 The Bouquet Ditto Summer Exhibition. 
 
 No Title. No. 352. (The Introduction) Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 The Street, Cookham Ditto Ditto 
 
 No Title. No. 385. (The Sempstress) . Ditto Ditto 
 
 No Title. No. 413. (The Spring of Life) Ditto Ditto 
 
 Wayfarers. (Large oil) Mr. Gambart's Gallery. 
 
 1867 Bathers Royal Academy. 
 
 Fisherman AND Boy Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition 
 
 A Vacarme. (" Village on the Cliff ") • Ditto Ditto 
 
 No Title. No. 336. (The Violet Field) . Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 1868 Vagrants. (Large oil) Royal Academy. 
 
 Well-Sinkers Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition. 
 
 No. Title. No. 228. (The First Swallow) Ditto Ditto 
 
 The Bedroom Window Ditto Ditto 
 
 The Fates, and Chaplain's Daughter Ditto Ditto 
 
 Stream in Inverness-shire .... Ditto Ditto 
 
 Lilies Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 The Gondola Ditto Ditto 
 
 Mushrooms and FUxNgi Ditto Ditto 
 
 1869 The Old Gate. (Large oil) .... Royal Academy. 
 
 A Lady in a Garden, Perthshire , Old Water Colour Society, Winter Exhibition. 
 
 1870 The Plough. (Large oil) . . , . . Royal Academy. 
 
 Wayfarers. (Water colour) ^ .... Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition. 
 
 No Title. No. 334. The Ferry) . . . Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 An Amateur Ditto Ditto 
 
 A Sketch. (Pen-and-ink, Vagrants) . . Ditto Ditto 
 Let us Drink to the Health of the 
 
 Absent. (" Village on the Cliff") . . Ditto Ditto 
 
 ^ In possession of W. Cuthbert Quilter, Esq., M.P. 
 
320 LIST OF WALKERS EXHIBITED WORKS 
 
 Year of 
 Exhibition. Title. Where Exhibited. 
 
 1 87 1 At the Bar Royal Academy. 
 
 A Girl AT A Stile Old Water Colour Society, Winter Exhibition. 
 
 The Housewife Ditto Ditto 
 
 1872 The Harbour of Refuge. (Large 
 
 oil) Royal Academy. 
 
 The Escape Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition, 
 
 A Fishmonger's Shop Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 At the Bar. (Small oil) Dudley Gallery. 
 
 Cartoon. ("Woman in White") . . . Ditto Black and White Exhibition. 
 
 1873 The Village Old Water Colour Society, Summer E.xhibition 
 
 The Harbour of Refuge. (Water 
 
 colour) 1 . Ditto Winter Exhibition. 
 
 1874 The Rainbow . . . . ; Ditto Ditto 
 
 1875 The Right of Way Royal Academy. 
 
 The Old Gate. (Water colour) '-^ . . Old Water Colour Society, Summer Exhibition 
 
 *^* Oti'/7Cfs, other than those u>itJi tvho/ii the aiitJior has lately been in cont)minication, would 
 j^reatly oblige by sending him particulars of any zoater colour drazvings by Walker in 
 their possession. 
 
 ^ In possession of Humphrey Roberts, Esq. 
 ^ In possession of Reginald H. Prance, Esq. 
 
INDEX 
 
 A 
 
 Adventures of PJiilip on his way through 
 the world, The, Walker's illustrations 
 for, 1 8, 20-25 
 
 Agnew, Sir William, his friendship for 
 Walker, 48 ; purchaser of Spring, 4g : 
 his opinion of Bathers, 72 ; in Scotland 
 with Walker, 88 ; purchaser of Vagrants, 
 no. III ; Walker on a visit to, 146 ; 
 his note on drawings on wall of billiard 
 room, 215-217 ; Walker's letters to, 220, 
 222, 267, 272, 279, 293, 294, 298, 300 ; 
 donor of The Harbour of Refuge to the 
 nation, 237 ; after Walker's death, 315 
 
 Algiers, drawing of boy and goats, 291 
 
 Amateur, An, a water colour drawing, 213, 
 217 
 
 Anglers Return, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 16 
 
 Ansdell, Mr. R., R.A., Walker's visits to, 
 in Scotland, 81-88, 1 1 2-1 14, 116, 117, 
 154, 188 
 
 Andante and Rondo a la Polka, a carica- 
 ture, 60 
 
 Archie, Mrs., a story. Walker's water colour 
 drawing from, 197, 198 
 
 Armstead, Mr. H. H., R.A., his medallion 
 portrait of Walker in Cookham Church, 
 
 Atheticcum, The, art critic of, on Autumn, 
 59; on The Ferry, 217 
 
 At the Bar, an oil painting, 219, 221-226, 
 236, 315 ; a study for, 222 ; Press criti- 
 cisms of, 223 ; small picture, 226, 246 
 
 At the Sick Man's Door, a water colour 
 drawing, 201 
 
 Auchineilan, July 27, '72, a sketch, 249 
 
 Autumn, a water colour drawing, 30, 50, 
 55, 57-59, 65, 66 
 
 B 
 
 Bathers, an oil painting, 30, 61, 62, 64, 
 66, 70, 72-77, 81, 90, 92, 94, 102, 
 103, III ; Press criticisms of, 102, 103 
 
 Beamish and Catherine, an illustration for 
 
 The Village on the Cliff, 84 
 Beauty and the Beast, a story by Miss 
 
 Thackeray, illustrated by Walker, 107 
 Bedroom Window, The, a water colour 
 
 drawing, 124, 126 
 Beehives, The, a water colour drawing, 147, 
 
 Bell, Sir Lowthian, possessor of The Un- 
 
 knoivn Land, 291 
 Bell, Mr. T. Hugh, Walker's visit to, 
 
 270 
 Blackberrying, a water colour drawing, 
 
 1 6 ; study for, 1 1 
 Blackburn, Mr. H., with Walker on the 
 
 Continent, 208 
 Blind Maji and Boy, an etching, 39 
 Boucher, Mr. W., etcher of Refreshment, 
 
 40 
 Bouquet, The, a water colour drawing, 30, 
 
 61, 78 
 Boy and dead bird, 2 7 
 Boy fishing, an unfinished oil painting, 1 82 
 Boy looking at a grave, 27, 149, 257 
 Boys and Lamb, a water colour drawing, 
 
 108, 109 
 British Museum, The, Walker sketching 
 
 at, 4, 5 
 
 Calderon, Mr. P. H., R.A., his account 
 of Walker in Paris, 36, 37 ; caricatures 
 of, by Walker, 40, 41 
 
 Captain Jinks of the " Selfish,^' a drawing 
 for Punch, 34, 182-184; a caricature 
 of, 254 
 
 Carr, Mr. J. Comyns, on Walker's draw- 
 ings, 15 ; on At the Bar, 226 
 
 Chamberlain, The Rt. Hon. Joseph, pos- 
 sessor of The Gofidola, 140 
 
 CJmplain^s Daughter, The, a water colour 
 drawing, 119, 126, 128 
 
 Charity, a water colour drawing, 30, 34 
 
 Clayton, Mr. J. R., suggests the title for 
 The Llarbour of Refuge, 241 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 INDEX 
 
 " Clique, The," Walker's connection with, 
 41,42; his farewell dinner to, 280 
 
 " Coffee for two — s'ilvous plaU" a carica- 
 ture, 104 
 
 Cole, Mr. Vicat, elected A.R.A., 198 
 
 Cornhill Magazine, The, Walker's illustra- 
 tions for, 15, 21, 28, 30, 32-34, 42, 47, 
 70, 84, 86, 88, 92, 94, 95, 116-118, 
 154-156, 178 
 
 Cosy Couple, The, a water colour drawing, 
 16 
 
 Cottage Door, The, a water colour drawing, 
 16 
 
 Curious appearance presented by A 
 
 S 71, Esq., &c., a sketch, 269 
 
 D 
 
 Dalziel Bros., Messrs., Walker's drawings 
 for, 8, 15, 28, 30 
 
 Daughter of Heth, a story by W. Black, 
 with frontispiece by Walker, 245 
 
 Deadly Affinity, The, an illustration for 
 Once a Week, 36 
 
 Denis Duval, a story by Thackeray, illus- 
 trated by Walker, 47, 55 
 
 Denis's Valet, a water colour drawing, 50 
 
 Dick and Reijie, an illustration for The 
 Village on the Cliff, 88 
 
 Dog Oscar, The, a sketch, 190 
 
 '^ I}oi?ig" Paris — The Last Day, a sketch, 
 105 
 
 E.N.E. Wind, a sketch, 51 
 
 Ejiglish Humourists, by Thackeray, illus- 
 tration by Walker, 34 
 
 English Sacred Poetry of Olden Time, 
 illustration for, 149, 150 
 
 Escape, The, a water colour drawing, 242, 
 
 243 
 
 Evening s excitement at IIals7vay, The, a 
 sketch, 156 
 
 Evening Walk, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 236 
 
 Everybody's Journal, Walker's illustration 
 for, 13 
 
 Evidence for the Defe7ice, an illustration for 
 Denis Duval, 47, water colour, 55 
 
 Exhibited works, list of, 319, 320 
 
 Farm Yafd, A {The Poultry Yard) (The 
 New Arrivals), a water colour drawing, 
 61 
 
 Fates, The, an illustration for Jack the 
 Giant Killer, 1 1 8 ; a water colour draw- 
 ing, 118, 119, 126 
 
 Ferry, The, a water colour drawing, 213, 
 217 ; Press criticisms of, 217, 218; un 
 finished study, 213 
 
 Fight, The, a water colour drawing, 16 
 
 First Swallow, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 107, 126, 128, 129 
 
 Fisherman and Boy, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 86-88, 98 
 
 Fisherman' s Wife, The, a water colour 
 drawing, 28 
 
 Fishmonger, The, a wood drawing, 9, 30 
 
 Fishmonger's Shop, A, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 252-254, 264; Press criticisms of, 
 253 ; small drawing, 272 
 
 Foster, Mr. Birket, etcher of The Street, 
 Cookhatn, 92 ; Walker's visits to, 122- 
 126, 164, 178, 19s, 238, 254, 255; 
 with Walker in Venice, 140-144 
 
 From an Island, a story by Miss Thack- 
 eray, illustrated by Walker, 154, 155 
 
 G 
 
 Gambart, Mr., his acquaintance with 
 
 Walker, 55, 71, 9° 
 Garden Scene (Jane Eyre), a water colour 
 
 drawing, 39, 42, 45, 47, 49 
 Gaujean, Mr. E., etcher of The First 
 
 Swallo7ci, and The Chaplaiji's Daughter, 
 
 128 
 Gilbert, Sir John, his influence over 
 
 Walker's early drawings, 8 ; elected 
 
 A.R.A., 237 
 Girl at a Stile, A, a water colour drawing, 
 
 230, 231, 236 
 Girl Reading, A, an unexhibited work, 220 
 " Glasgow Train," a sketch, 268 
 Gondola, The, a water colour drawing, 
 
 138-140, 159 
 Good Samaritans, an illustration for Philip, 
 
 24 
 Good Wo7-ds, Mr. Joseph Swain's paper 
 
 in, 13; Walker's illustrations for, 15, 
 
 29> 2,0, ZZ, 34, 4°; 47, 48 
 
 Graham, Mr. William, his opinion of 
 Spring, 72; possessor of Fathers, 73, 
 102, 103 ; oi A Lady in a Garden, Perth- 
 shire, 154, and of Lilies, 155; sketch 
 of, 160; with Walker in Scotland, 189, 
 190 
 
 Green, Charles, R.I., with Walker at 
 Whymper's, 7 
 
INDEX 
 
 323 
 
 H 
 
 Halsway Court, Crowcombe, Walker at, 
 145-167 ; sketch of, 153 
 
 Harbour of Refuge, The, an oil painting, 
 208, 227, 231, 237, 238, 240-245; 
 Press criticisms of, 241, 242 ; original 
 design for, 239, 315; a water colour 
 reproduction of, 250, 272, 276, 279, 
 280 ; a water colour drawing of figures 
 
 in, 309, 315 
 Harris, Mr. T., F.R.I.B.A., Walker at 
 
 work under, 3 
 Herkomer, Prof. H., R.A., etcher oi Philip 
 
 in Church, 49 ; owner of The First 
 
 SwaIlo7i', 107 ; etcher of The Old Gate, 
 
 178 
 Hodgson, Mr. J. E., R.A., on Walker, 2, 
 
 49, 50, 74, 85, 86, 316 ; with Walker at 
 
 Pendleton, 215-217 
 Hogarth, a drawing of, 34 
 Hon. Member, The, a caricature, 160 
 Hooper, Mr. ^V. H., the wood engraver. 
 
 Walker's appreciation of, 52; letters 
 
 to, 52, 97, 100, 232-235 
 Housewife, The, a water colour drawing, 
 
 231, 236 
 Hunt, Mr. William, Walker calls on, 45 ; 
 
 death of, 46 ; his work compared with 
 
 Walker's, 49, 152 
 Hurley Bird, The, a caricature, 76 
 
 Introduction, The, a reproduction, in water 
 colours, of a sketch, 92 
 
 J 
 
 Jack the Giant Killer, a story by Miss 
 Thackeray, illustrated by Walker, 118 
 
 Jajie Eyre [garden scene). Walker's water 
 colour drawing from, 39, 42, 45, 47, 
 49 ; Rochester showing his mad wife, 
 38 
 
 Jekyll, Miss, her acquaintance with Walker 
 in Algiers, 290 
 
 K 
 
 Keene, Charles, a contributor to Once a 
 Week, 14; a visit to Walker, 70 ; at 
 Witley, 125 
 
 '' Kuhlau," a caricature, 220 
 
 Lady in a Garden, Perthshire, A, a 
 water colour drawing, 154, 186, 192, 
 
 193 
 Landseer, Sir Edwin, meets Walker, 98 ; 
 
 Walker asks him to inspect his pictures, 
 
 196 
 Langham, The, 10, 11 
 Last Pose of Summer, The, a caricature, 
 
 59 
 Leech, John, a contributor to Once a 
 
 Week, 14 
 
 Lehmann, Mr. Frederick, purchaser of 
 The Old Farm Garden, 229, and of A 
 Fishmonger's Shop, 254 
 
 Leigh's Studio, Walker at, 4, 5, 1 1 
 
 Leisure Hour, The, ^Valker's illustration 
 for, 13 
 
 Lemon, Mr. Mark, gives commission for 
 drawing, New Bathing Co. {Ltd.), 51 
 
 Leslie, Mr. George, R.A., his description of 
 the Cookham cottage, 60; gives Mason's 
 opinion of Walker, 66 ; Walker's letter 
 to, 76, 77 ; with Walker at Maidenhead, 
 182-184 > with Walker at Pendleton, 
 215-217 
 
 Letter from Ne7u York, A, an illustration 
 for Philip, 24 ; intended water colour, 
 
 ' 201 
 
 Letters of Frederick Walker, extracts from : 
 wood drawing, 12; Paris, 37, 80, 103- 
 105 ; death of William Hunt, 45, 46 ; 
 Autumn, so, 55, 57, 59, 66; Moray 
 Minstrel invitation cards, 51, 52, 68, 97, 
 99, 100; illness of his brother John, 
 53-55, 7o> no; Wayfarers, 56, 57, 
 71, 81, 90; from his mother. Autumn, 
 59 ; flute lessons, 60 ; Bathers, 61-64, 
 70-77, 81, 90, 92, 94, 102, 1 1 1 ; fishing 
 at Hurley, 62, 63 ; his new studio, 
 66 ; life-insurance, 68 ; Vagrants, 69, 
 99-101, 108, 110-112, 117; his 
 election at the Garrick, 70 ; to his 
 brother John, 61, 71-74, 77, 78, 80, 
 81, 84, 85, 88, 90, 94, 98, 100, loi, 
 106, 112, IT3, 118, from his mother, 
 death of his brother Harry, 73, 74; 
 to Mr. G. Leslie, 77; his entertainment 
 of "The Clique," 78; Beddington, 
 78, 100; from Scotland, 82-88, 112- 
 117, 186-192, 247-249, 268-270, 310, 
 312 ; Sir J. Millais' At Home, 98, 99 ; 
 medal for Philip in Church, 106, 109 ; 
 Boys afid Lamb, 108 ; proposed winter- 
 ing abroad, 114; The Violet Field, 
 119; Waiting for Papa, 120; death of 
 his brother John, 121; from Brighton, 
 
324 
 
 INDEX 
 
 1-2 2 ; from Witley, 122-125; trip to 
 Knole, 125; from Liverpool, 128, 
 130; voyage to Venice, 130-135; 
 Venice, 136-143, 208-213; return 
 journey, 143-145 ; ^om Halsway Court, 
 Crowcombe, 145-167; The Beehives, 
 147 ; Mushroom Gatherers, 148, 149, 
 152, 265-267, 300, 301,304; Mush- 
 rooms afid Fungi, 150-152, 154, 155, 
 157; meeting Tennyson, 154, 155; 
 the new Academy Building, 165 ; 
 from Woolstone Moor, 169-174, 193- 
 205, 264-267, 299-307 ; The Old Gate, 
 163, 169-174; to Mr. North, 121, 126, 
 M5' i73» 175. 176, 178, 207, 217, 221, 
 222, 224, 226, 232, 234, 237, 238, 242, 
 244; 250, 252, 265-267, 270-272, 
 275. 276, 278-280, 293, 295-298; to 
 Mr. Swain, illustration for Sola, 178- 
 181; The Plough, 193-205, 208 ; trip 
 to Venice, 136-143, 208-213; to 
 Mr. Stevenson, 213, 214, 254, 268; to 
 a neighbour, disturbance, 218; At the 
 Bar, 224; The Old Farm Garden, 227, 
 229; to Mr. Hooper, poster, 232-235 ; 
 The Harbour of Refuge, 238, 242, 244, 
 245 ; visit to Dulverton, 244, 245 ; his 
 love of i)rivacy in work, 246, 247 ; from 
 Derbyshire, 250, 252 ; private theatri- 
 cals at Witley, 256, 257 ; from Lulworlh 
 and Torquay, The Unknown Land, 257- 
 262, 272-275 ; from Ludlow, 278 ; from 
 Algiers, 280-290 ; his illness upon his 
 return, 293 ; from Sevenoaks and 
 Folkestone, 294-296 ; to Mr. S. P. 
 Jackson, 296; from Brook, nearGodal- 
 ming, illnesses, 296-298; The Rain- 
 Mf/, 299-304; to Mr. Phillips, 122, 
 125, 307 ; to Mr. Watts, trip to Scotland, 
 309; his last letter, 312 
 Let us Drink to the Health of the Absent, 
 an illustration for The Village on the 
 Cliff, 86, 88, 89 ; a reproduction of, in 
 water colours, 94, 98, 195, 196, 217, 
 218 
 Lewis, Mr. Arthur J., Walker's designs 
 
 .^9r, 51-53. 67, 68, 70, 97, 219, 220 
 Lilies, a water colour drawing, 145, 155, 
 
 159, 161, 189, 193 
 Little Denis dances and sings before the 
 Navy Gentlemen, an illustration for 
 Denis Duval, 47 
 Little Red Riding Hood, a story by Miss 
 Thackeray, illustrated by Walker, 116 
 117 
 
 London Society, Walker's illustration for, 30 
 Lost Path, The, Walker's first oil painting, 
 27, 34-36, 48, 223 
 
 Love in Death, a poem, Walker's illustra- 
 tration for, 34 
 
 M 
 
 Macbeth, Mr. R. W., A.R.A., etcher of 
 Spring, 49 ; of Autunm, 66 ; Bathers, 
 103 ; The Plough, 207 ; of The Ferry, 
 213 ; of The Rainy Day, 236 ; The Har- 
 bour of Refuge, 237 ; of ^ Pishmonger' s 
 Shop, 253 ; of Mushroom Gatherers, 
 304; restorer o{ At the Bar, 224, 225 
 Maclise, Mr., drawings submitted to, 3, 5 
 
 Magnolia for London ivith Cotton, The, 
 Walker's illustration for, 28, 242 
 
 Marks, Mr. H. S., R.A., with Walker at 
 Swanage, 3 ; Pen and Pencil Sketches, 
 41 ; Walker's caricatures of, 67, 68 ; 
 with Walker at Pendleton, 215-217 ; 
 elected to Royal Academy, 220; to 
 the Old Water Colour Society, 226, 
 after Walker's death, 315 
 
 Mason, Mr. George, A.R.A., his opinion 
 of Bathers, 66 ; his Eveni?ig Hymn, 
 158; elected A.R.A., 172 
 
 Member's 13 rot her. The, a sketch, 187 
 
 Millais, Sir John E., a contributor to Once 
 a Week, 14 ; advises Walker, 40, 74 ; 
 Walker at his At Home, 98 ; water 
 colour drawings of, 124 ; his Eve of St. 
 Agnes, 125; Walker's letters to, 145, 
 293 ; with Walker at St. Andrews, 191 
 
 Moray Minstrels, The, Walker's designs 
 for invitation cards to, 51, 52, 67, 
 d^, 70, 97, 219, 220; Walker at 
 entertainments of, 55, 70 
 
 Morley, Mrs., portrait of, 86, 92 
 
 Moss Bank, a water colour drawing, 58 
 
 Mugford's Favourite, an illustration for 
 Philip, 24 
 
 Mushrooms and Fungi, a water colour 
 drawing, 150-152, 155, 157, 159 
 
 Mushroom Gatherers, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 28; an oil painting, 148, 149, 152, 
 154, 168, 262, 264-267, 276, 300, 301, 
 304. 305.- 307. 3 '5; i'"' possession of 
 Mr. Leslie, 264 
 
 Mushroom Gatherers — their return home, 
 a sketch, 148 
 
 My Front Garden [sketch), a water colour 
 
 drawing, 50 
 Mystery of the Bellows, The, a drawing for 
 Messrs. Dalziel Bros., 30 
 
 Nj 
 
 A^eza Arrivals, The [A Farmyard) {The 
 Poultry Yard), a water colour drawing, 
 61 
 
INDEX 
 
 2^'2-S 
 
 New Bathing Company {Ltd.), The, a car- 
 toon for Fufich, 34, 5 1 
 
 New Boy, The, a water colour drawing, 
 16 
 
 North, Mr. J. W., A.R.A., with Walker at 
 Whymper's, 7 ; with Walker at Halsway 
 Court, 146-167 ; at Woolstone Moor, 
 169-174, 193-205, 264-267, 299-306 ; 
 in Algiers, 280-289 ; his descriptions 
 of Walker, 168, 169, 174, 199, 200, 281, 
 3 1 7 ; his article in the Magazine of Art, 
 199, 240 ; Walker's letters to, 121, 126, 
 
 145. 173. 175, 176, 178, 207, 217, 221, 
 
 222, 224, 226, 232, 234, 237, 238, 242, 
 244, 250, 252, 265-267, 270-272, 275, 
 276, 278, 279, 280, 293, 295-298 
 Nurse and Doctor, an illustration for 
 Philip, 24 
 
 O 
 
 Old Bofs Tale, An, Walker's illustrations 
 for, 28 
 
 Old Farm Garden, The, a water colour 
 drawing, 227-229 
 
 Old Gate, The, an oil painting, 150, 154, 
 156, 163, 166-168, 170-176, 17S, 196, 
 197 ; original canvas, 163 ; a water 
 colour reproduction of, 306, 307 
 
 Old Water Colour Society, The, Walker's 
 exhibits at, 45, 48, 50, 58, 78, 86, 92, 
 98, 107, 112, 114, 126, 159, 176, 178, 
 193, 207, 217, 227, 236, 242, 268, 276, 
 301, 307 ; Walker elected associate, 
 45, 46; full member, 92 ; on the hang- 
 ing committee of, 120 
 
 Once a JVeek, Walker's illustrations for, 
 8, 12-16, 28-30, 33, 68 
 
 Orchardson, Mr. W.Q., R.A., his acquaint- 
 ance with Walker, 128; with Walker in 
 Venice, 140, 209-213; his descriptions 
 of Walker, 185, 206; his note on 7 he 
 Harbour of Refuge, 238, 240 
 
 Oswald Cray, illustrations for, 29, 2,7)1 47j 
 
 53 
 Out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 an illustration for The Village on the 
 
 Cliff, 9S 
 Out of the JVorld, a story by Miss Thacke- 
 ray, illustrated by Walker, 42 
 
 Peaceful Thames, The, an oil painting, 1 45, 
 184, 185, 231, 246, 262, 264, 267, 
 307 
 
 Peasant Proprietorship, illustration for, 
 
 ^3 
 Peep Slioiu, The, a water colour drawing, 
 
 16 
 
 Philip in Church, a water colour drawing, 
 
 42, 43, 45-47, 49, 103, 105, 106 
 Philip, Mr. J., R.A., suggestions, Bathers, 
 
 73. 
 Phillips, Mr., letters from Walker, 122, 
 
 125. 307 
 
 Picture Book, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 28 
 
 Pinwell, Mr. George, A.R.W.S., visit to, 
 276 
 
 Plough, The, an oil painting, 156, 168, 
 169, 192-208, 309 ; letter describing, 
 193 ; Press criticisms of, 206 ; a repro- 
 duction of, 220 
 
 Poultry Yard, The (A Farmyard) {Neia 
 Arrivals), a water colour drawing, 61 
 
 Poynter, Mr. E. J., elected A.R.A., 172 
 
 Pratten, Mr. R. S., the flautist, gives 
 Walker lessons, 59, 60 
 
 Prodigal Son, The, illustrations for, 29 
 
 Punch, Walker's drawings for, 34, 51, 
 182-184, 247 
 
 Q 
 
 Quarrel, A, an illustration for Philip, 23, 
 
 24 
 Quilter, Mr. W. Cuthbert, possessor of 
 
 Bathers, 103 
 
 R 
 
 Painbo7C', The, ^^'alker's last original water 
 
 colour drawing, 298-304 
 Rainy Day, The, an unexhibited work, 
 
 236 
 Religious Tract Society, The, Walker's 
 
 illustration for, 150 
 Refreshment, a water colour drawing, 40, 
 
 Right of JVay, The, Walker's last oil paint- 
 ing, 168, 307-309, 315 ; Press criticism 
 of, 309 
 
 Ritchie, Mrs. Richmond (Miss Thacke- 
 ray), her description of Walker's inter- 
 view with Thackeray, 19; of his con- 
 cern at Thackeray's death, 44; of 
 Walker's genius, 95, 96 
 
 " Romance for you Two," a caricature, 10 r 
 
 Rosens Breakfast, a sketch, 153 
 
 Round of Days, A, Walker's illustrations 
 for, 30 
 
326 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Royal Academy, The, Walker's exhibits 
 at, 34, 102, 126, 174, 176, 193, 206, 
 207, 223, 236, 241, 307, 309; Walker 
 an Associate of, 220, 221 
 
 Ruskin, Mr., his opinion of The Spring of 
 Life, 80 ; of Waiting for Papa, 120 ; of 
 Afushroovis and Fungi, \^z; of The 
 Old Farm Garden, 229 
 
 Settlers of Long Arnnu, The, Walker's 
 
 illustrations for, 29, 257 
 Shower, The, a water colour drawing 30, 42 
 Sketch {My F-ont Garden^, a water colour 
 
 drawing, 50 
 Sketch of House at Venice, 213 
 Smith, Mr. George, introduces Walker to 
 Thackeray, 18, 19, 21 ; portrait group 
 of wife and three children, 28 ; com- 
 missions Walker to draw test illus- 
 tration for Jane Eyre, 38 ; owner of 
 The Fates, 118; commissions Walker 
 for Denis'' s Valet, 50 
 So early in the morning, a sketch, 3 
 Sola, a story by Miss Thackeray, illus- 
 trated by Walker, 34, 1 78-181, 196 
 Spring, a water colour drawing, 30, 48, 49 
 Spring of Life, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 78-80 ; Press criticism, 92 
 Stella Colas, Walker's meeting with, 104 
 Stevenson, Mr. Alex, S., letters from 
 Walker, 213, 214, 254,255, 268; with 
 Walker in Scotland, 248-250, 269, 270 
 Stobhall Garden, see A Lady in a Garden, 
 
 Perthshire 
 Story of Elizabeth, The, by Miss Thacke- 
 ray, illustrated by Walker, 32, 107 
 Strange Faces, a water colour drawing, 
 
 3o> 32 
 Stream in Lnverness-shire, a water colour 
 
 drawing, 114, 115, 117, 126 
 Street, Mr. A. E., possessor of The Old 
 
 Gate, 178 
 Street, Cookham, The, a water colour 
 
 drawing, 60, 88, 92, 93 ; Press criti- 
 cism of, 92 
 Summer, a wood drawing, 30, 31 
 Summer Woods, The, a poem, illustrated 
 
 by Walker, 40, 46 
 Swain, Mr. Joseph, wood engraver, 13, 
 
 34 ; letter from Walker, 1 78-181 
 
 Taylor, Mr. Tom, his opinion of The 
 Lost Path, 35, 36 
 
 Temptation of St. Anthony Walker, The, 
 a caricature, 277 
 
 Tenniel, Sir John, his influence over 
 Walker's early drawings, 8 ; a contribu- 
 tor to Otice a Week, 14 
 
 Thackeray, his acquaintance with Walker, 
 18-25 ; employs Walker on illustrations 
 for Philip, 22, 24 ; his letters to Walker, 
 20, 21, 25 ; his death, 44 
 
 Thackeray, Miss (Mrs.Richmond Ritchie), 
 Walker's illustrations for her stories, 32, 
 42, 70, 81, 84, 86, 88, 92, 94, 95, 107, 
 116, 118, 119, 154, 155, 178, 235 ; her 
 opinion of Walker's genius, 95, 96 
 
 Thanksgiving {Philip in Church), an 
 illustration for Philip, 24 
 
 To-morrow \ p. 2> p.m., a caricature, 69 
 
 Topham, Mr. F. W., on Walker's election 
 at the Old Water Colour Society, 46 
 
 T7C.I0 Catherifies, The, an illustration for 
 The Village on the Cliff, 70 
 
 Two Girls at a Fireside, a water colour 
 drawing, 177, 178 
 
 U 
 
 Uncle Fred painting, See, a sketch, 202 
 Unknown Land, The, an unfinished oil 
 painting, 29, 256-263, 272-275, 280- 
 292,315; designs for, 259, 263,315 
 ^^ Up a Tree, or the Doge and his Troubles," 
 a caricature, 40 
 
 V 
 
 Vacarme, A, an illustration for The Village 
 on the Cliff, 91, 92, 98 
 
 Vagrants, The, a drawing for Once a Week, 
 14, 33> 68, 69 
 
 Vagrants ( Wanderers), an oil painting, 
 99 — loi, 108, 110-112, 117, 120, 
 126, 128, 158, 189; bought by the 
 nation, 103 ; bought from Walker by 
 Mr. Agnew, no, in; a pen and ink 
 reproduction of, 178, 217; standing 
 woman from, 218 
 
 Village, The, a water colour drawing, 242, 
 250, 251, 268 
 
 Village on the Cliff, The, a story by Miss 
 Thackeray, illustrated by Walker, 70, 
 81, 84, 86, 88, 92, 94, 95 
 
 Village School, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 3o» 42. 
 
 Violet Field, The, a water colour drawing, 
 IT 2, 119 
 
 Vision of"- The Clique,'' A, a sketch, 58 
 
INDEX 
 
 327 
 
 w 
 
 Waiting for Papa, an illustration iox Jack 
 
 the Giant Killer, 118, 120 
 Walker, Frederick, his birth, i ; his ances- 
 tors, ib. ; his mother, ib., 2, 5, 32, 53, 
 54, 293-303 ; death of, 303, 304 ; his 
 father, 2 ; his school days, ib. ; his early 
 drawings, ib. ; his first employment, 3 ; 
 commencement of his artistic career, 
 4 ; at the British Museum, ib., 5 ; his 
 home, ib., 18, 30, 34, 44; at Leigh's 
 studio, 6, 11: his capacity for work, 
 6, 49, 50 ; a student at the Royal 
 Academy, 6 ; apprenticed to Mr. 
 Whymper, wood engraver, 7 ; his early 
 paintings, 8, 16 ; his wood drawings, 8, 
 29? 33, 34 ; his methods of self-educa- 
 tion, 8, 49 ; his drawings in Indian ink, 
 ib. ; a member of " The Langham," 
 10, II ; at the sketching evenings, 11 ; 
 sketching at Tedworth, ib., 12 ; his 
 fame as an illustrator of books, 13 ; 
 exhibition of his works, ib., 27, 315, 
 316; magazines to which he contri- 
 buted, 14, 15, 29, 33, 34; a retrospect 
 of his early work, 15; his apprenticeship 
 at an end, 17 ; his acquaintance with 
 Thackeray, 18-25 j his interview with 
 Mr. George Smith, 21; his illustrations 
 for Philip, 24, 25 ; his personal appear- 
 ance, 26 ; visits to his sister at Croydon, 
 27 ; his first oil painting, ib., 34; im- 
 provement in his work, 28 ; of age, 30 ; 
 his work for Messrs. Dalziel Bros., 30 ; 
 his illustrations for Miss Thackeray, 
 32, 42, 70, 81, 84, 86, 88, 92, 94, 95, 
 107, 116, 118, 119, 154, 155, 178, 235 ; 
 his illustrations for Punch, 34, 51, 182, 
 1 84, 247 ; his first Academy picture, 34 ; 
 extracts from his diary, 35, 39, 44 ; in 
 Paris, 36, 37, 80, 103-105 ; his illustra- 
 tions of ya«^ ^jt^, 38, 39, 42 ; moves to 
 St. Petersburgh Place, 39 ; visits to his 
 sister at Beddington, 40 ; his sense of 
 humour, 41 ; at Swanage, ib. ; his friends 
 of "The Clique," 41^ 42, 78, 280; at 
 work on Philip in Church, 42, 45 ; 
 spurious drawings, 42 ; at Thackeray's 
 death, 44; an associate of the Old 
 Water Colour Society, 45, 46 ; dislikes 
 wood drawing, 47 ; his friendship for 
 Sir W. Agnew, 48, 72 ; success of 
 Spring, 48, 49 ; his power of pro- 
 duction, 49, 50 ; at work on Autumn, 
 50, 66 ; his cartoon for Punch, 51; his 
 designs for Moray Minstrel invitation 
 cards, 51, 52, 66-68, 70, 97, 219, 220; 
 
 learns riding, 53 ; his brother John, 53, 
 95, 121 ; acquaintance with Mr. Gam- 
 bart, 55; depressed, 57, loi ; at Tor- 
 quay, 58, 262, 272, 298, 299 ; takes flute 
 lessons, 59, 60 ; first visit to Cookham, 
 60, 61 ; at Hurley, 62-64, 75, 77 ; in- 
 sures his life, 68 ; a member of The 
 Garrick, 70; hard at work, 71, 72; 
 death of his brother Harry, 73 ; visits 
 Sir John Millais, 74, 98, 99 ; a cha- 
 racteristic letter from, 80 ; at Cookham, 
 81, 107, 118; in Scotland, 81-88, 
 112-117, 154, 186-192, 215, 234, 235, 
 247-249, 268-270, 310-312; at work 
 in London, 88, 117, 145, 206, 207, 
 231, 245, 246, 257, 262, 265, 266, 
 307 ; at Gambart's Exhibition, 90 ; 
 elected a full member of the Old Water 
 Colour Society, 92 ; at Hastings, 94 ; 
 Mrs. Ritchie's opinion of, 95, 96 ; 
 awarded a medal for Philip in Church, 
 106 ; at work on Boys and Lamb, 108, 
 109; plan for wintering abroad, no; 
 on a trip with Mr. Phillips, 117 ; his 
 advertising envelope for Miss Oliver, 
 118 ; on the hanging committee of the 
 Old Water Colour Society, 120; death 
 of his brother John, 121 ; at Brighton, 
 122, 250; at Witley, 122-126; pro- 
 jected illustrations for Esmond, 124, 
 125 ; visits Knole, 125 ; his most pro- 
 lific year, 126; starts for Venice, 128, 
 130; on the voyage, 130-135; at 
 Genoa, 134; in Venice, 135-143, 209- 
 213; pictures at Venice, 139; trip to 
 Chioggia, 142 ; at Milan and Verona, 
 143, 144; at Goring, 145 ; at Halsway 
 Court, Crowcombe, 145-167 ; at work 
 on The Old Gate, 150; at work on 
 Mushrooms and Fungi, 150-152; at 
 Freshwater, 154; at Woolstone Moor, 
 167-174, 192-205, 264-267, 299- 
 307 ; buys an electrical machine, 
 170, 171 ; at Maidenhead, 178, 182- 
 185 ; spends Christmas with the Birket 
 Fosters, 195, 255, 256; at work on The 
 Plough, 192-205 ; on the way to Venice, 
 208, 209; at Bisham, 213; at Pendle- 
 ton, 215-217 ; an hon. member of the 
 Moray Minstrels, 220 ; an A.R.A., 220, 
 221 ; an hon. member of the Belgian 
 Water Colour Painters, 221 ; at work 
 on At the Bar, 219-223 ; at Spade Oak 
 Ferry, 227, 229, 231 ; at work on The 
 Houseiuife, 231 ; at work on the poster, 
 The JFoman in JVhite, 232 ; his cat, 
 234 ; in Derbyshire, 234, 250, 252 ; the 
 copyright of his pictures, 235, 236 ; at 
 
328 
 
 INDEX 
 
 work on The Harbour of J^efi/ge, 237- 
 241 ; at Farningham, 242 ; at Dunster, 
 242, 244; at work on A Fishmonger'' s 
 Shop, 252-254; takes part in private 
 theatricals, 255 ; at Lulworth, 258- 
 261 ; at Milford, Surrey, 271 ;at Ludlow, 
 278 ; at work on reproduction of The 
 Harbour of J^efuge, 279, 280 ; in Algiers, 
 280-290 ; his work at Algiers, 291 ; his 
 illness on his return, 293 ; illness of his 
 mother, 293-303 ; at Sevenoaks, 294 ; at 
 Folkestone, 295, 296 ; at Brook, near 
 Godalming, 296-298 ; death of his 
 mother, 303, 304 ; his illness at Wool- 
 stone Moor, 306, 307 ;his last Academy 
 ])icture, 309; his death, 312; his 
 funeral, 312, 313 ; Press notices of his 
 death, '314, 315 ; Mr. Armstead's 
 medallion portrait of, 313, 315 ; sale 
 of his pictures, 315 ; death of his sister 
 Fanny, 316 ; summary of his character, 
 
 317 
 Walker, William,grandfather of Frederick, i 
 
 Waltner, Mr. C, etcher of The Lost Path, 
 36; Vagraiits, 128; The Village, 268 
 
 Wanderers, an illustration for Once a Week 
 (see Vagrants^ 
 
 Watts, Mr. H. E., with Walker in Scot- 
 land, 269, 309-312 ; his account of 
 Walker's last illness, 310-312 
 
 Wayfarers, an oil painting, 39, 48, 55-57, 
 68, 81, 90, III, 315; Press criticisms 
 of, 90, 92 ; a water colour reproduction 
 of, 178, 207 
 
 Wayside Posies, Walker's illustrations for. 
 
 Weeping Cupid, -xn initial letter, 118; a 
 
 water colour drawing, 119 
 Well-Sifikers, a water colour drawing, 126, 
 
 127 
 IVet Day, The, a water colour drawing, 
 
 28 
 Whymper, Mr, J. W., Walker apprenticed 
 
 to, 7 
 Wintei% a drawing for Messrs. Dalziel 
 
 Bros., 30 
 Woman in White, The, a poster, 232-235 
 Wood-drawings, Walker one of the first to 
 
 introduce brushwork, 34 
 Woolstone Moor, Walker's work at, 168 
 Wreck, The, Walker's illustration for, 12, 
 
 13 
 
 -f 
 
 Y 
 
 " Young ^ooman 7vho broke my flute,^' a 
 caricature, 164 
 
 Young Patient, The, a water colour draw- 
 ing, 42 
 
 RICHARD CLAY AND SDNS, LIMITED, LONDON AND Bl'NGAY. 
 
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