Part 17

The fire of genius having been kindled by the butterfly episode, was soon fanned into a flame by the intense and daring spirit of the boy. Going with his father to carry out some repairs to the house of Mr. B. Nankivell, at Mithian, the boy discovered that in one of the rooms hung a painting of a farmplace. What its merits were it would be difficult now to say, for the accounts of it are conflicting; but the picture excited the most ardent admiration of young Opie, and he made more than one furtive visit to the room in order to gaze upon the object of his emulation, of which he was endeavouring to make a copy from memory, as he feared to ask permission to inspect. Being detected, however, on one of these occasions, the boon of a loan of the picture was granted, in order that it might serve him as a model. His delight knew no bounds; the much-wished-for copy was made, and was sold to a Mrs. Walker[115] (whose son was Vicar of St. Winnow, on the banks of the Fowey) for five shillings--a sum the magnitude of which so astonished the youngster that he ran about the house shouting: 'I'm set up for life! I'm set up for life!' Upon this his father is said to have cynically observed: 'That boy'll come to hanging, as sure as a gun;'--in fact, the father did all in his power to keep the son close to a handicraft which for two generations had been a sure, if small, means of support.

John's temperament seems to have always been excitable. Another instance of his exuberant joy at an early success was when he returned with twenty or thirty guineas in his pocket (which he presented to his mother) from painting some of the Prideaux portraits, still preserved at Place House, near Padstow; he threw the glittering coins on the floor, and himself upon them, twisting about in his fine new coat, lace ruffles, and silk stockings, and exclaiming with humorous glee, 'See! see! I'm walving [wallowing] in gold!' But he was as easily depressed. He used to tell how he once went to the neighbouring town of Redruth, with half-a-crown in his pocket, to buy himself some colours, but was so attracted by the gilded gingerbreads and other delights of the fair that in a very short time his money was all wasted, and he had to trudge his weary way homewards without the painting materials, and so overcome by the miserable plight to which his thoughtlessness had reduced him that he said he seriously meditated suicide by the way.

There was nothing enervating in the way in which young Opie was reared. Not only was his fare frugal and his clothing and lodging of very simple sort, but his religion and morals were doubtless very strictly looked after by his parents, who seem to have been of the old Puritanical school. But the spirit of the artist broke out one summer Sunday afternoon, when Opie--then eleven years old--was left in the cottage with his father, whilst old Mrs. Opie went to church, or meeting-house. The old man had fallen fast asleep, and his hopeful offspring seized the golden opportunity of painting his portrait, hitherto a forbidden operation;--the way in which the 'Sabbath-breaking' young rogue was reviled by his progenitors may be imagined better than I can describe it. Yet the likeness was so good, and the motive so affectionate, that the offence was condoned, and the portrait exhibited to all the neighbours with parental pride, notwithstanding the boy's having irritated his father during the progress of the work by awakening him from his nap in order to 'get his eyes lightened up.' One of his uncles, however, is said to have fostered John's talents, both as a mathematician and as an artist; at any rate his love of art was not to be quenched, and the cottage-walls were ere long decorated with portraits of most of his relations and playfellows, painted with singular force and brilliancy for so young and untaught an artist. Wolcot says that Opie used often to get up at three in the morning to go to work on his painting.

From his thraldom in Mithian, Jan Opie was no doubt glad to get the chance of escaping, when it was offered to him by Dr. Wolcot ('Peter Pindar'), then living at Truro; a man who added to a strong satiric vein of poetry a considerable amount of artistic taste, sufficient at any rate to recognise that his _protégé_ was no common lad. It has been said that Wolcot employed 'Jan' in some menial capacity about his house on the Green; but this is not the case. He certainly did give Opie the opportunity of copying his pictures, some of which were very good; adding the sound advice to study hard from the life. It was perhaps also whilst under the old doctor's roof that he continued his mathematical studies with such success that he is said to have mastered his Euclid when only twelve years old. William Sandby, in his 'History of the Royal Academy,' says that Opie had a very good knowledge of Euclid when only ten years of age; and that, about this time, spending his scanty pocket-money in candles and writing materials, he set up an evening school at St. Agnes, in which most of his pupils were twice as old as himself. His uncle loved to call him 'little Sir Isaac.'

Dr. Wolcot did his best to get the rising young artist commissions from his patients and acquaintances, and Opie's services were soon in great request as a local portrait-painter. Many an old Cornish house still possesses specimens of his early skill, as may be seen from the long and elaborate account of his works prepared by the late Mr. J. Jope Rogers. Sir Rose Price, of Trengwainton, had a portrait of an old beggar by Opie, which was considered at the time a _chef-d'œuvre_; and the Truro families of Daniell and Vivian, who were liberal patrons of his skill, also had some of the best examples of his rapid, vigorous brush. Viscount Bateman, who was for some time quartered at Pendennis Castle, Falmouth, with his regiment, the Hereford Militia, was another of his early patrons, and gave Opie several commissions to paint beggars, old men, and similar subjects. His usual price for a portrait, when he was sixteen years of age, was seven shillings and sixpence.

But John Opie was getting a little too big for his remote native county; and, instigated by 'Peter Pindar,' resolved on trying his fortunes in London. The story goes--and it is not without some sort of foundation--that the doctor (who had met with some pecuniary losses) and his _protégé_ (or _pupil_, as Wolcot preferred calling him) were to share profits; but that this arrangement only lasted for a year. However that may be, either in 1780 or 1781 they both came to Town, when 'the Cornish wonder' was forthwith introduced to Sir Joshua Reynolds, then President of the Royal Academy; and in 1782, Opie, now twenty-one years of age, exhibited (for the first time) on the walls of that institution pictures of an old man's head, an old woman, and three portraits.[116]

He now, with Wolcot, took apartments, which he himself furnished out of the thirty or forty guineas which formed his capital, in Orange Court, Leicester Fields--near Sir Joshua Reynolds' studio. The court itself is demolished, but it stood at the back of the present National Gallery, on the site of St. George's Barracks. Here John soon got to work with his painting--copying the old masters, and studying diligently the best English authors, whose wit and wisdom his powerful mind and retentive memory enabled him to easily assimilate and retain. Milton, Shakespeare, Dryden, Pope, Gray, Cowper, Butler (Hudibras), Burke, and Dr. Johnson seem to have been his special favourites. The last-named he idolized, and painted his portrait twice. He now also added French, Italian, and a little Latin to his attainments. Sitters gradually thronged round him; he 'trembled at his terrific popularity' and his many flatterers; and, having been introduced to the King and Queen, his fame spread like wild-fire, and he used merrily to say that he thought of keeping a loaded cannon at his door to frighten off the crowds by whom he was besieged. Wolcot says that Jan answered 'George' with St. Agnes intrepidity, that the King bought some of his pictures, and wished Opie every success.

The following is a letter to his mother on the memorable occasion of his reception at the Palace. The MS., much tattered and torn, was communicated to the Rev. Richard Polwhele by the present Mr. Edward Opie:

'DEAR MOTHER,

'I received my brother's two last letters, and am exceedingly sorry to hear that my father is so poorly; don't let him work any more, I hope he will be better before this arrives. I have all the prospect of success that is possible, having much more business than I can possibly do. I have been with the King and Queen, who were highly pleased with my work, and took two of my pictures, and they are hung up in the King's collection at the Queen's palace. As to the £200 business, it is entirely false, for I was but paid my price and no more. I could have had more money for the pictures if I had sold them to several noblemen.... There is no work stirring at this time, and it is a very improper time to see the town, as it is cold and very dirty, and so full of smoak and fog that you can hardly see the length of your nose, and I should not be able to stir anywhere out by day nor keep them company indoors, by reason of the quantity of business. I would advise them to come up in June, when they may see everything in fine weather, and probably I shall not be so busy then as I am now, because most of the quality go out of town at that time, and then also they may see all the great houses, &c., but now the familys are in town, they'd not be able to see one. As to my stay here, it will depend on circumstances, as the continuation of employ and the encouragement I may meet with. If I have time and money I shall certainly come down in the summer.... Many have been in town, years, and have had nothing to do, whilst I, who have been here but two or three months, am known and talked of by everybody. To be known, is the great thing in London. A man may do ever so well, if nobody knows it, it will signify nothing; and among so many thousand and ten thousand people, it is no easy matter to get known. I cannot think what gave rise to the report which you heard, as I have never had a present from anybody in my life. Money is very scarce among everybody, and I only desire to get paid for what I do. I have a new method, and make them all, or most of them, pay half as soon as I begin the pictures, which is a very good method. Brother E. and his wife are very well and will be very glad to see Brother and Betty up at the time I mentioned; they join in their duty to you and Father, and love to Uncle, Brother and sisters, &c., with your affectionate son,

'J. OPIE.

'Direct to me at Mr. Riccard's, Orange Court, Leicester Fields, London.

'March 11, 1782.'

In the following year he removed to Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields; and somewhere about this time became infatuated with the black eyes and arch smiles of a City solicitor's daughter, one Mary Bunn, of St. Botolph's, Aldgate, who brought him some money on his marriage with her at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, 4th December, 1782. It was a foolish union--she, pretty and giddy, and her husband a blunt, strong-minded, hard-working artist. He tried to gloss over her follies, being placable to a degree; but in vain. She at last crowned her faithless career by eloping with a Mr. John Edwards in 1795, and an Act of divorce left Opie a free and a happier man. It was _à propos_ of this miserable affair that Opie once uttered the following grim _bon-mot_. He was passing the above-named church one day with his quondam friend Godwin, who was an infidel, when Godwin exclaimed: 'Ah! I was christened at that church.' 'And I was married in it,' replied Opie; 'they make unsure work there, for it neither holds in wedlock nor in baptism.'

But at length the crowds of sitters and callers who used to annoy both Opie and his neighbours began to dwindle away, as the novelty of seeing that 'nine days' wonder'--a great artist--in

'The Cornish boy in tin-mines bred Whose genius, like his native diamonds, shone In secret, till chance gave them to the sun,'

began to wear off; and gave Opie the much-desired opportunity of pursuing the higher branches of his art. Henceforth he painted less portraits and more historical compositions; but amongst the former, even up to the end of his career, we still find some notable subjects, such as a whole-length of Charles James Fox (which West thought his best), William Siddons (the husband of the great actress), Fuseli, Southey, the Poet Laureate,[117] and many others. In 1784 he exhibited his 'School,' of which Horace Walpole remarked that it was 'Great nature--the best of his works yet.'

His first great work of the 'historical' school, and one of his very best, 'The Assassination of James I. of Scotland,' was produced in 1786; as to which a writer in the _Quarterly Review_ for 1866 tells the following amusing story of Northcote's jealousy of Opie. When the latter was engaged at Hampstead on this picture (the story is, by the way, also told of the Rizzio picture), Northcote became alarmed at the reports which reached him of its extraordinary merit, and accordingly he paid a visit to Opie's studio in order to judge for himself. 'When I entered the room,' he said, 'I was astounded. The picture had the finest effect I ever witnessed; the light on the figures gleamed up from a trap-door by which the murderers were entering the King's chamber. "Oh!" said I to myself; "go home, go home; it is all over with you!" I did go home, and brooded over what I had seen. I could think of nothing else; it perfectly haunted me. I could not work on my own pictures for thinking of his. At last, unable to bear it any longer, I determined to go there again, and when I entered the room I saw, to my great comfort, that Opie had rubbed all the fine effect out.'

In the following year his next great work, 'The Assassination of David Rizzio,'[118] was painted, and Opie's claim to be elected an Associate of the Royal Academy was established, the full honours being accorded to him the year after. His diploma picture, 'Age and Infancy,' still hangs on the Academy's walls.

Amongst his other more important works may be named, 'The Presentation in the Temple,' 'Jephthah's Vow,' 'Young Arthur taken Prisoner,' 'Arthur with Hubert,' 'Belisarius,' 'Juliet in the Garden,' 'The Escape of Gil Blas' (his last historical work), and 'Musidora.' A very large proportion of these, and others of Opie's paintings have been engraved. It may be here mentioned, as an illustration of the prices which some of Opie's best works fetch, that at the sale of Mr. Jesse Watts Russell's pictures, at Christie and Manson's, in July, 1875, 'The Schoolmistress,' from the collection of Mr. Watson Taylor, a large and important work of several figures--an old lady schoolmistress and her pupils--painted in emulation of Rembrandt, fetched £787 10s.

Pursuing his career at the Royal Academy, in 1789, on the expulsion of Barry, the Professor of Painting, on account of his impertinent remarks upon his brother Academicians, and his generally unsatisfactory conduct, Opie preferred his claims; but was induced to waive them in favour of the elder artist, Fuseli. The latter, however, resigned in 1805, and the indisputable claims of Opie to the post were at once fully and honourably recognised.

Before, however, that event took place, one which had still greater and happier influence on our artist's professional career and domestic happiness occurred: in 1798 he had the good fortune to fall in love at first sight, and, after much coy reluctance on the lady's part, to secure the heart and hand of the amiable, sprightly, and accomplished Amelia Alderson, the only child of a Norwich physician, and a relative of H. P. Briggs, R.A. They were married on the 8th of May ('Flora Day,' as it is called in Cornwall), she being then twenty-nine years of age, and her husband thirty-seven. She was much courted in the fashionable circles of London for her literary and conversational talents, and numbered Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Mackintosh, Wordsworth and Sydney Smith among her friends and acquaintances.

When she became a Quakeress (and I fancy that at heart she was always more or less of one) in 1825, she endeavoured to recall her novels; but copies of them are still to be met with in many of our libraries. Indeed, she tells us that she would never have published at all had it not been for the strong wish of her husband that she should do so.

As regards her novels, or tales, as they should rather be called, 'She can do nothing well,' says Jeffrey, 'that requires to be done with formality, and therefore has not succeeded in copying either the concentrated force of weighty and deliberate reason, or the severe and solemn dignity of majestic virtue. To make amends, however, she represents admirably everything that is amiable, generous and gentle.'

Of her poetic vein, the following specimen may perhaps be admitted here:--

LINES WRITTEN IN 1799, BY MRS. OPIE TO HER HUSBAND, ON HIS HAVING PAINTED THE PORTRAIT OF HER FRIEND, MRS. TWISS.

'Hail to thy pencil! well its glowing art Has traced those features painted on my heart; Now, though in distant scenes she soon will rove, Still shall I here behold the friend I love-- Still see that smile, "endearing, artless, kind," The eye's mild beam that speaks the candid mind, Which sportive oft, yet fearful to offend, By humour charms, but never wounds a friend.

'But in my breast contending feelings rise, While this loved semblance fascinates my eyes; Now, pleased I mark the painter's skilful line, And now, rejoice the skill I mark is _thine_: And while I prize the gift by thee bestow'd, My heart proclaims, I'm of the giver proud. Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife, And now the _friend_ exults, and now the WIFE.'

She died on the 2nd December, 1853, eighty-four years of age (forty-seven years after her husband's death), and was buried in the same grave with her father, in the Friends' burial-ground, at the Gilden Croft, Norwich. Her life has been written by her friend, Miss Brightwell; and a portrait of 'la charmante Madame Opie' (as she was called in Paris), in her Quakeress's cap and with uplifted eyes full of gentle ardour, after a medallion by David, is prefixed to that work. Haydon also (who, by the way, was indebted to Opie for much sound practical advice in his art) painted her, in her tall black Quakeress's bonnet, in his great group of the 'Anti-Slavery Convention,' now in the National Portrait Gallery; and her husband painted her portrait more than once: an engraving after one of these portraits is prefixed to a later edition of Miss Brightwell's 'Life.'

To her more refined taste were said to be due not only a superior delicacy and grace sometimes thought to be found in the female portraits painted after Opie's second marriage, but also some of the finer touches in his lectures as Professor of Painting, to which reference will presently be made. But Mrs. Opie disclaimed the latter suggestion with all the energy and indignation of which her tranquil spirit was capable, observing that 'the slight texture of muslin could as easily assume the consistency of velvet.' About half of Opie's sitters were ladies; and one of his best early works is a portrait of Mrs. Delany,[119] now at Hampton Court; it used formerly to hang in the Royal bedchamber at Windsor. The following contemporary criticism by a Cornish lady on Opie's work will be interesting to at least some of my readers:

_The Hon^{ble}. Mrs. Boscawen to Mrs. Delany._

'26th Sept., 1782.

* * * * *

'Your favoured Opie is still in raptures at the thoughts of Bulstrode (the residence of the Duke of Portland). His portrait of Lady Jerningham did not _quite_ satisfy me, for I concluded it wou'd be perfect, and her _person_, _hands_, _posture_, _spinning-wheel_, all _are so_; but the face (or rather countenance) does not _quite_ please me.'

To his wife Opie was indebted for the graceful and affectionate memoir--her 'dearest and last duty'--which was prefixed to his 'Lectures,' which she edited after his death, in 1809. It is said that he used always to keep in his studio an unfinished portrait of his wife, with her abundant waves of auburn hair, constantly working on it in order to obtain that power of delineation of female delicacy and beauty in which he thought himself deficient. Opie was devotedly attached to her, and they were most happy in each other's love; the only point of difference between them being her liking for a gayer social existence than suited her husband's tastes. Yet he was always fond of a dinner-party when there was _good talk_, and many such noteworthy gatherings are described in Holcroft's 'Memoirs.' They had a memorable trip to Paris together in 1802; the only occasion on which Opie ever left England, except once before, in 1786, for a short trip to the picture-galleries in Belgium and Holland. Mrs. Opie was very fond of sketching in profile all her friends' portraits, of which she made a large collection, and was altogether a lady of refined tastes as well as of the most active benevolence. Southey has sketched her in his 'Colloquies,' vol. ii., p. 322; and her friend and biographer has told us that 'her cheerful heart shone through her bright face, and brought comfort and pleasure into every house she entered.' Miss Thackeray (Mrs. Richmond Ritchie) has also included Amelia Opie in her recent 'Book of Sibyls;' and Harriet Martineau has admirably described her in the 'Biographical Sketches.'

In 1791 Opie had moved to the house in which he resided for the last sixteen years of his life, No. 8, Berners Street, Oxford Street;[120] and here he passed what was probably his serenest and happiest days, overshadowed with only one cloud, and that was one which scarcely disturbed him, for he attributed it to causes over which he had no control. I mean his decreasing popularity, which for a short time waned; but, as we shall see, was at length recovered. Public caprice no doubt had, as Opie thought, much to do with this; but the novelty had gone off, and the London world is always on the look-out for new wonders. His pencil was, notwithstanding, as ever, busy. Alderman Boydell had formed the idea of a Shakespeare Gallery--a collection of pictures which should illustrate the works of our greatest dramatist. Now Shakespeare was, as we have seen, a favourite author with Opie; and the painter accordingly set to work with a will, adding five pictures to the series, to which many other eminent artists also contributed. Amongst them are the following:

Juliet on her Bed Romeo and Juliet. Antigonus sworn to destroy Perdita Winter's Tale. Talbot and the Countess of Auvergne} Henry VI. The Incantation Scene } Timon with Phryne and Timandra Timon of Athens.

To Macklin's 'British Poets and Bible,' and to Bowyer's 'Hume's History of England,' he also contributed largely. 'The Death of Sapphira' is a remarkable example of his artistic power.

About this period he must have written the following letter to his sister, which is perhaps worth inserting--being, as it were, a peep behind the scenes, affording us a glimpse of his rough, affectionate nature:

'Nov. 20, 1800.

'DEAR BETT,[121]