My first Patron:

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1554, 27 February 1874, Page 129

My first Patron:

AN ARTIST'S STORY. “ Once a Week.” /JH andidly, now, it is not many years since, in obedience to what I felt to be a strong impulse, I determined to select art as a profession, and to render the decided bias of my inclination an honorable means of livelihood. Seated one day in my studio, engaged in putting the finishing touches to a small landscape, of which a summer trip into Shropshire had furnished me with a preliminary sketch, I was wondering when the love for the profession I had chosen, and the time and labor bestowed upon it, would begin to bring hack some substantial return in the form of patronage and commissions, when I was startled from my reverie by a hasty tap at my door, and a cheery voice, asking—- “ Are you at home ? Oh, all right!” It was a fellow artist and particular chum of my own, who, entering very unceremoniously, and somewhat out of breath, plumped himself into the only vacant chair, and once proceeded with—“l’ve brought you good news, my boy! I am going to make your fortune ! ” Being considerably interested, I begged him to explain, and, only taking | sufficient time to fill his little brown pipe, he at once assented, commencing with the enquiry— ' “Have you had any visitor here yet ?” “ No,” I replied. “ You are the first.” ; That’s all right,” he said: “ I wished to be the first to tell you. Well, then, ' last evening I had a call from a gentleman—see, here’s his card —‘ Mr Francis ’ J. Bouverie,’ who appears to be acting r as an agent to the Marquis of , j in collecting for that nobleman a small . gallery of works by native artists, being | evidently a connoisseur in such things; , and Lord is, as you know, a capital patron of our noble profession of c the canvas. He has selected one or two c of my things, and expressing a desire ( for something in that small landscape I way, I didn’t forget you, and shall be ‘ very happy if I’ve brought you your first patron.” * I thanked my friend very heartily for ® his good nature, and begin to fancy my pet pictures already disposed of. j “ He evidently mean's business,” he went on to say; for he assured me his lordship is not particular as' to price. e But wc shall have to send our pictures to be approved of at an address in s Wimpole-street, which he has left with ? me. Show him the best you have and ?' confirm the good character I’ve given of you. Dont be afraid of putting a good, figure on the pictures; in fact, T yon may take a lesson in that particular, if in no other, from little Tom Farn- n combe. The little cad was with me when this party calied, and Tom didn’t 2 forget to advertise his own works most energetically. { I want one or two nice c little bits of landscape,’ says this Mr 81 Bouverie to me. ‘ I have a sweet little G thing at home, close by!’ cries Tom, C( running his fingers through his whitey- 0 brown hair, and without more ado, he started off to fetch it. In the mean- p time I mentioned you to him, and you si may expect him, I take it, any,minute.” m “ Hallo,' Brother Daubs, what’s the fr news 1” at that moment came from an o| ugly face, with a red stubby beard and vj moustache, and ochreish-looking hair, carried behind the ears, peeping in at tl the door. “ 1 was just passing—looked w iu, you know! Done business with oi your friend, Charley ? ” addressing my ci companion, “ Hallo 1 old fellow, your ft

foliage is rather heavy, ain’t it ?:” to me. ' “ By-the-bye, I sliowed him—the agent I to Lord thing I spoke of. Delighted with it, sir—de—lighted ! Shall send it up to , Wirnpole-street at once. I suppose he ’ hasn’t called on you, has he ?” he added, ' turning to me. By the way, I don’t like that sky, there’s no weather in it. • He told me Lord , wanted paintings by men of note, only and so ” “He applied to you, Tom, eh?” asked Charley. “ Exactly ! ” replied the other, apparently unconscious of the tone of sarcasm accompanying the question. “ Remember the subject of mine? Figures children fishing village pool—sweet effect in middle distance! ” “ Ah! ” savs Charley. “ A copy, isn’t it?” “ Copy 1 Are you a copy ? No! sketched it last spring. A sweet thing, mind me, no two mistakes about that!” “ Well,” says Charley, seeing I was becoming bored, “ Frank wants to finish, so come along, Tom, and send your sweet thing to Wiinpole-street as soon as possible, or he may change his mind.” “ Not much fear of that I ” replies ' Tom; and after a few more suggestions to me, as to the tone of the sky and the handling of the foliage, my two friends withdrew. In the course of the day the servant announced a visitor, and looking at the card she presented, I recognized the name mentioned by Charley. A slight figure, and gentleman-like appearance, a frank and .easy address, and the j general demeanour of a polite man of business. I was more than ever dis- j posed to be pleased with my new patron, i “ I have waited on you,” he com- j menced, in a singularly soft and pleasing voice, “as agent of the Marquis of , in selecting a small gallery of works by native artists. His lordship, as you are aware, is an enthusiast in such matters, and possesses no small degree of ability himself as an amateur. He is particu- | larly favorable to the smaller-sized ! paintings like, that on your easel there, and if you,are at liberty to dispose of any that may suit him, perhaps we can come to terms.” I hastened to assure him I should only be too happy, and very gladly called his attention to some of my best efforts. “Ah,” he said, stepping back and scrutinizing each as I placed it in the most favorable positition, with his eyes partly closed, and his head on one side, and speaking slowly, “ that’s the sort of thing. That’s about his lordship’s mark, I fancy. A leetle cold, perhaps, but very nice. Ah, that’s better one to my < view. Do you think, now, you could manage—say, four of these, and send them at once to this address ? 1 expect the marquis in town the day after to morrow, or it may be later; he will then inspect the collection I have made, and make his own selections. Write name and price on back of each, and suppose you favor me with a call—well ” (referring to a pocket diary and making a note therein), “ this day week, the 24th, eh—will that be convenient ? ” 1 I assured him nothing could be better, ( and having seen my pleasant visitor to the door, returned in high spirits to the 1 completion of my work. 1 Taking what I thought my best, pic- i tuj-es in a four-wheeler the next day to i the address in Wimpole-stroet, I found < several brother artists already assembled ■■ there, evidently on the same errand as < myself. Among them my friend Charley and little Tom Jarncombo, The latter was, as usual, the most noisy, { being engaged in an argument respect- i ing the hanging of the “ sweet thing the light was bad, or the position mi- * favorable; but the uniform urbanity \ of his lordship’s agent smoothed all . difficulties and calmed the ruffled temper of our friend. Whether it was professional envy on my part, or deficiency of appreciative power, I am free to confess I could not see the great merit of Tom’s painting, although the impetuous little / artist continued to insist on its having ' the most favorable place in the room. , “ Don’t you see, my very dear sir,” he argued, “ unless you get the light in that direction you miss that charming i effect in the middle distance ?” j I fancied once or twice I saw a sly ti smile lurk at the corners of the mouth, or twinkle in the eyes, as with unwaver- - ing good temper and politeness, Mr Bouverie replied—- “ Very true, very true indeed! ” I Having deposited my precious load, [ was about to retire, when, following me to the door, he said—- “ Don’t forget this day week, the ( 24th, Don’t be later, as I shall be glad 6 ■jO make an end of this—settle all daims, and return to his lordship’s to ( superintend the hanging of the pictures. V Hood day, my clear sir; I think I may jongratulate you beforehand on the sale ( yf all your pictures.” '■ Sanguine with the hope which these jy jarting words raised, I returned to my itudio, more enthusiastic than ever, and r nore grateful, if possible, to my good i. fiend Charley, who had afforded ine the ipporfcunity of establishing such a f r aluable connection. v The time seemed to pass slowly until he appointed day, and being pretty veil left to myself—except for a visit u* two from Tom Farncombe, who , lalled, apparently, for the purpose of hiding faults with my works, and ex- o

. tolling his own—had plenty of oppor- ; tunities for indulging in those delight- ; ful dreams of future fame and compe- , tence, which the farewell words of my > new friend had so materially encouraged. ! I had one or two misgivings as , to the price I. had -affixed to each ; picture. Had I asked enough? Did the paintings really possess more merit • than I had modestly believed? The Marquis of - was a staunch patron of the arts I had always heard, and very rich. On the other hand, I thought I had erred perhaps on the right side, and ' my moderate demands might all the more firmly secure a patron, when he found works of ability or promise valued at a reasonable sum by the artist. Yes, altogether I had acted wisely, I concluded, and I busied myself with laying in for other landscapes from the sketches beside\me. On the 24th I determined to walk quietly up to Wimpole-street, in the early part of the day, so that I might be beforehand with the rest of my brother artists, obtain the settlement, as proposed by Mr Bouverie, for the accepted pictures, and in case of any being rejected, return with them quietly to my studio. ,-1 was surprised, therefore, on arriving at the address to find that the others had acted apparently on the same impulse as myself, for I found the door open and the hall fall. But I was still more amazed when I found that they were engaged in a furious altercation with the landlady of the house. Loudest among them I could distinguish Tom j Farncombe's violent and persistent de- | mand. I " But where is Mr Bouverie ?—I ini sist on seeing Mr Bouverie ! " 1 " Good gracious, gentlemen! " cried the landlady, " what on earth is the good of asking me ? How should I know ? He took my ground floor front for a week ; said he was a picture dealer; and left fur Liverpool four days ago, taking all the pictures with him." " Then, by Jove!" cried Charley, as a new light suddenly flashed upon us, " the fellow's a swindler, and wo have been done!" " And the scoundrel, by this time," exclaims another, "is on his way to America, and all the paintings with him !" "But did he leave nothing behind him—a letter, or a paper, or anything we could trace him by ?" joined in a third, as the recollection of hours of anxious and unremunerated labor probably recurred to him. " Ee left nothing but a picture," replied the landlady. " A picture ! " we all seemed to say at once. " Yes, sir; and a pleasanter and more honorable gentleman I never knew; for he not only paid the full week in advance, but at parting made a present of the painting to please the children." " Where is it? " we all thundered. "In the parlor; please, gentlemen, to step in and look at it.'' And there, hanging on an otherwise bare wall, was a small landscape—children, figures, fishing, village pool. " Gentlemen," says Charley, gravely, " I am very sorry for all of us—we've been shamefully sold. But, Tom," he adds, turning to the little man who was standing perfectly aghast, " I am sorry for you. That sweet thing of yours isn't good enough even to be—stolen! "