CHAPTER VI.

FARNHAM ROYAL, BUCKS.

During the summers of 1872, 1873, and 1874, Caldecott stayed often at a cottage belonging to the writer, three miles north of Slough, in Buckinghamshire, in the picturesque neighbourhood of Stoke Pogis and Burnham Beeches.

A "loose box" adjoining the stable--a few yards to the right of the little verandah in the above sketch--had been fitted up for him by friendly hands; and it was here in this temporary studio, in the quiet of the country, looking out on woods and fields, that he made many of the drawings for _Old Christmas_.

Several entries in Caldecott's diary in 1874 mention that in June and July he was "working in the 'loose box' at Farnham Royal, on the _Sketch Book_."

Those were happy, irresponsible days, before great success had tempered his style, or brought with it many cares. Take the following letter (one of many) written in the full enjoyment of the change from lodgings in London:--

"We are passing a calm and peaceful existence here and were therefore somewhat startled the other day, when Sharp asked for the cart and donkey to take to the common for the purpose of bringing us a few Sultanas. We stroked our beards, but as Sharp seemed bent upon the affair reluctantly consented."

[The boy Sharp attended to the wants of Caldecott and his friend L., and wanted to make a pudding. The end of the letter is reproduced in facsimile.]

The illustration on the last page is a copy of a water-colour sketch made from "the loose box" at Farnham Royal. It depicts the arrival of a pony at the cottage and consequent disgust of the donkey at the intrusion. The old man--who combined the various offices of gardener, groom, and parish clerk--stood unconsciously as a model for several drawings in _Old Christmas_.

From Farnham Royal he writes at another time to a friend:--

"We are fast drifting into a vortex of dissipation--eddying round a whirlpool of gaiety; but I hope that through all, our heads will keep clear enough to guide the helms of our hearts."

About this time it was suggested to Caldecott to make studies of animals and birds, with a view to an illustrated edition of _Æsop's Fables_, a work for which his talents seemed eminently fitted. The idea was put aside from press of work, and when finally brought out in 1883 was not the success that had been anticipated. This was principally owing to the plan of the book.

As Caldecott's _Æsop_ was often talked over with the writer in early days, a few words may be appropriate here. Caldecott yielded to a suggestion of Mr. J. D. Cooper, the engraver, to attach to each fable what were to be styled "Modern Instances," consisting of scenes, social or political, as an "application." Humorous as these were, in the artist's best vein of satire, the combination was felt to be an artistic mistake. That Caldecott was aware of this, almost from the first, is evident from a few words in a letter to an intimate friend where he says:--

"Do not expect much from this book. When I see proofs of it I wonder and regret that I did not approach the subject more seriously."

Circumstances of health also in later years interfered with the completion of what might have been his _chef d'oeuvre_.

In the following letter to a friend in Manchester (headed with the above sketch) he refers modestly to his drawings for _Old Christmas_, on which he was now busily engaged.

"My dear ----,--It is so long since I have heard from you that I have concluded that you must be very flourishing in every way. No news being good news, and no news lasting for so long a time, you must have a quiver full of good things. How is ----? The woods of Dunham? The gaol of Knutsford?--the vale of Knutsford, I mean. A fortnight ago, when all the ability were leaving town, I returned from a six weeks' pleasant sojourn in Bucks, at Farnham Royal. I was hard at work all the time, for I have been very much occupied of late, you will be glad to hear, I know. In process of time, and if successful, I will tell you upon what. I wish I had had a severe training for my present profession. Eating my dinners, so to speak. I have now got a workshop, and I sometimes wish that I was a workman. Art is long: life isn't. Perhaps you are now careering round Schleswig or some other-where for a summer holiday. I shall probably go to France next month for a business and pleasure excursion. Let me hear from you about things in general or in particular--a line, a word will be welcome. I hope you are all well; and with kind regards remain

"Yours faithfully,

"R. C."

It is clear from the above letter that Caldecott was conscious of the great change that was coming in his work in 1874. The suggestions of his friends that he should draw continually from familiar objects, and the hints he received from time to time that he "could not draw a lady," are ludicrously illustrated in two sketches to a Manchester friend who watched the progress of the artist with lively interest.

But in spite of his moving laughter, the period referred to in this chapter was the most serious and eventful in Caldecott's career; when a sense of beauty and fitness in design seemed to have been revealed to him, as it were, in a vision, and when his serious studies seemed to be bearing fruit for the first time; when he felt, as he never felt before, the responsibilities of his art and the want of severe training for his profession. Then--but not till then--did the lines of _Punch_ "On the late Randolph Caldecott," written in February 1886, apply exactly:--

"Sure never pencil steeped in mirth So closely kept to grace and beauty." * * * * *