THE CONSTABLE FAMILY.
WHILE lovers of Art have been rejoicing in the collection of drawings and sketches by John Constable lately presented to the South Kensington Museum, and in the promise of still more valuable treasures from the same hand and source, soon to become public property, the kind donor, Isabella Constable, the last survivor of the artist's seven children, was passing away. Miss Constable died on August 13th, having bequeathed to the nation many of the beautiful works by her father which, remaining unsold at his decease, have since been retained with loving care by the family.
Thigh Constable, the artist's grandfather, settled in Suffolk, Gelding Constable, his father, having inherited from a rich uncle some property, including a water-mill at Hatford. He subse- quently purchased another water-mill and two windmills in the neighbourhood of Bergholt ; he worked his mills while he also farmed some land ; and he married a Miss Watts, who brought him some property,—so the couple, if unimportant, were not poor. When John, their second son, born in 1776, left school, his father wished him to prepare for entering the Church ; but on the youth appearing disinclined for that vocation, took him into his own counting-house. There John worked for some time, but rather against the grain, as he had a decided taste and inclination for Art. To Art he turned, against the wishes of family and friends, and went up to London to study ; but Suffolk of all places retained the strongest hold on his heart; it was there he learned to love Nature and watch all her varying moods and aspects, and there, too, he met the Miss Bicknell who became his wife, dearly beloved in life and deeply mourned when lost. Mr. Bicknell, at first opposed to the match, was soon recon- ciled to his daughter, who eventually inherited from him considerable property, and became fond of his son-in-law. A legacy, together with property inherited from his own father, relieved Constable from any pressing anxiety as to a rapid sale of his pictures ; but he was ambitious, believed in the truth of his own delineation of Nature, and felt keenly the criticisms passed on his works. Of skies he made many 'careful studies, with a decided leaning towards violent effects. Fault having been found with the use he made of such effects, :admitting some amount of error in his method, he writes :*— " Certainly, if the sky is obtrusive, as mine are, it is bad ; but if evaded, as mine are not, it is worse ; it must, and always ,shall with me, make an effectual part of the composition." And again, he speaks of the sky as " the key-note, the standard .of scale, and the chief organ of sentiment." Fuseli said Con- stable put " de lights always in de right places ; but he make me call for my greatcoat and my umbrella." Constable painted a few portraits, but gave his chief attention to land- scapes, exhibiting one at the Royal Academy as early as 1802. He made his way but slowly ; yet still, while the defects of the .artist's style were freely, even harshly, canvassed—special objection being taken to a spotty effect produced by dashes of white paint intended to represent flashes of light from leaves and other polished surfaces—a gradually increasing party acknow- ledged great charms in his work, with its truthful delineation of English scenes and climate, and beautiful effects of colour, distance, and atmosphere ; many of his pictures were exhibited and some sold. Constable's merits were early appreciated in France. He wrote to his friend, Archbishop Fisher, of some paintings going to a French Exhibition,—" Think of the lovely valleys and peaceful farmhouses of Suffolk forming part of a collection to amuse the gay Parisians !"
In the year 1828 Mrs. Constable died of consumption, leaving seven children, the youngest an infant. Constable wore mourning for the rest of his days. His life was saddened, and when elected Royal Academician in 1829, he remarked, in speaking of the honour :—" It has been delayed until I am solitary and cannot impart it." The widower's greatest comfort was in the society of his children, to whom he was a most indul- gent father, and to the elder ones he soon began to turn for help and support. Happily, too, Constable had a great resource in his work, which he loved for its own sake. Very affectionate notices of both boys and girls are scattered through the letters given in Leslie's "Life." Especially the father praises the _good sense of his eldest son, John, on whose judgment he evidently places great reliance, finding it "always right." Of his "pretty Minna," he writes, " You cannot believe the influence this heavenly little monitor has on the whole house ;" and he is full of tender, anxious sympathy when his second son, Charles, makes his start in life as a sailor. Years passed, in which there was no greater event than the painting and selling of pictures, and occasional sickness in the family circle, the father himself being often an invalid, until, on the last day of March, 1837, he died rather suddenly. The eldest son speedily followed; and the third son, Alfred, a promising painter, was drowned while boating.
Not long of ter this sad event, the surviving sisters and brother moved to a pleasant house in Hamilton Terrace, St. John's Wood, where with good wall-space they could hang their
• see the Life of Joh* Constable, by his friend, B, Lealie, LA. pictures to advantage. It was a charming collection, many of their father's works remaining in their hands ; they greatly valued these treasures, and already it was agreed among them that the most important examples should eventually become national property. In Hamilton Terrace, the sisters and brother spent a few quiet years surrounded by their pictures, pets, and flowers, and although growing more and more retired in their habits, giving a welcome to a few old and intimate friends. With compassion for every form of suffering, the Constables were very pitiful to animals ; their house was a refuge for the destitute, in the shape of neglected birds, hunted cats, and stray dogs, and it was curious to mark how some miserable cur, at first shrinking with lowered spirits and tail at every noise or movement, gradually gained confidence and learned to look for benefits, not blows, from an uplifted hand. Following the wishes of her sister and brother, as well as her own, Miss Constable has, it is understood, left money to various Societies for the benefit and protection of animals. It was a sad break-up of the little party when, three years ago, Lionel's wife, who had long been ailing, died after a short, sharp attack of illness ; and the shock brought on Lionel—who had a alight attack of paralysis after the sudden death of his brother Charles—a second and more severe stroke. From that time he became a confirmed invalid, and died on the eve of the Jubilee. This youngest of the Constables could never make much use of his considerable share of artistic talent, from the state of his eyes ; one having been destroyed in boyhood from the blow of a stone, the sight of the other was rendered so precarious, that he was advised to work it with great caution ; but he did paint and photograph a little for amusement. Very fond of and indulgent to children, Lionel Constable was regarded as a sort of good genius by his niece and nephews, and there must be others who remember the delight of going out with their kind friend " La," when he led forth a party of little people sight- seeing, or for a game in the park, and, after treating them to cakes, fruit, or sweets, dropped them at their homes, or took them in to tea with his sisters ; latterly, such pleasures were stopped by his declining health. Isabella Constable—inheriting, like her brothers, the artistic tempera- ment—painted animals, birds, and flowers in oils. In 1851, she and an intimate friend agreed that they would each send something to take its chance of exhibition at the Royal Academy, but kept the venture a close secret, thinking the name of Constable might be supposed to obtain some favour, and preferring that the works—an oil group of flowers by Isabella Constable, and a medallion portrait of Minna Con- stable by their friend—should stand or fall by their own merits. Both picture and medallion having been accepted and hung, Sir Edwin Landseer, calling on the sisters in the evening after the private view, exclaimed,—" Why, Minna, you did not tell us your likeness was to be in the Exhibition." " My like- ness ?" she said, with a smile. " Yes," he replied, "your like- ness, and very like." Such features as hers were too uncommon to be mistaken by those who knew them well. Isabella Constable had been long a suffering invalid when, on August 13th, she passed away. Though the last of her father's immediate family, she was not bereft of kith and kin, for she had visits from her nephews, and her niece lived with her from the date of her leaving school, about three years ago. Friends who have been intimate at the now desolate house in Hamilton Terrace will miss their accustomed luxury of a quiet view when the walls are dismantled and the pictures dispersed, the most and the best going to public galleries. Some of the works have been already on view in loan exhibitions, but the greater part will be new to the public whose property they now become. To the National Gallery will go, it is understood, the fine "Flat- ford Mill, on the Stour," "Harwich, with Lighthouse," "Hamp- stead Heath," " The Glebe Farm," and " The Cenotaph,"—the somewhat unpromising subject of this picture, a monument erected in his grounds by Sir G. Beaumont to the memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, is splendidly handled : the long vista of tall trees, with a perfect lacework of branches, arching over- head, while a graceful deer crosses the sward in front, and a little robin perches on an angle of the grey monument. South Kensington takes, in addition to the drawings sent there in Miss Constable's lifetime, the fine " Walk, with Trees," " The Cottage," the charming " Gillingham Mill," and two water- colour drawings that have always hung as a pair—" Old Sarum " and " Stonehen g.?, "—of which the artist himself spoke with some satisfaction. The mystic stones are grandly grouped and drawn, and are overhung with a wildly stormy sky, to which objections have been raised as heavy, and, to use Constable's own term, obtrusive. In the " Old Sarum," there lurks a. subtle charm that grows upon and fascinates the spectator, though the ancient mound, if interesting, is in itself scarcely picturesque. In the letterpress published with a plate of this drawing, the writer remarks that Old Sarum., the city that " once gave laws to the whole Kingdom, can now be traced but by vast embankments and ditches, tracked only by sheep-walks." Of lambs playing about the ruins, Thomson writes,—
" They start away, and sweep the massy mound That runs around the hill, the rampart once Of iron war."
Peaceful enough—save for rough weather—if desolate, looks the scene which the painter's magic touch has lighted up with vivid gleams falling from a stormy sky, while the spectator gazes beyond mound, shepherd, and flock, over pasture-lands stretching far away in richest, most delicate tints of green, brown, purple, gold, and violet, while he almost seems to breathe the air of the lone spot he views.
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