Part 14 (1/2)
[Sidenote: =A Tale of Two Cities, 1859.=]
Although ”A Tale of Two Cities” was written specially for the pages of _All the Year Round_, it appeared concurrently in the familiar monthly numbers, with ill.u.s.trations by ”Phiz.” The artist, in writing to his son Walter, said: ”A rather curious thing happened with this book. Watts Phillips, the dramatist, hit upon the very same identical plot: they had evidently both of them been to the same source in Paris for their story.
Watts's play ['The Dead Heart'] came out with great success, with stunning climax, at about the time of d.i.c.kens's sixth number. The public saw that they were identically the same story, so d.i.c.kens shut up at the ninth number, instead of going on to the eighteenth as usual.” Whether this explanation is correct or not, the fact remains that ”A Tale of Two Cities” was brought to a conclusion in the eighth number (not the ninth, as stated by ”Phiz”), being therefore less than half the usual length of d.i.c.kens's serials.
As in the case of ”Little Dorrit,” the artist's signature does not appear in any of the sixteen etchings contributed by ”Phiz” to this novel. It has been pointed out that the French personages in the pictures are not characteristic of the period, there being but little attempt at archaeological accuracy in the costumes. Only one set of the ill.u.s.trations was prepared, none being etched in duplicate; they were executed on eight quarto steels, each bearing two designs. Of the original drawings for ”A Tale of Two Cities” I have seen only one (now in Mr. J. F. Dexter's collection), and this was never etched. The sketch in question, which is vigorously executed with pencil and brush, depicts the incident of the stoppage at the Fountain, and const.i.tutes an excellent subject for ill.u.s.tration.
The artist's design for the monthly wrapper is composed of distinct scenes separated by dividing lines. At the top of the page is St. Paul's Cathedral as viewed from the Thames, and at the base the Cathedral of Notre Dame is represented, while around are displayed some of the prominent characters in the story.
”A Tale of Two Cities” is the last of the novels containing ill.u.s.trations by ”Phiz,” for, with the completion of the final plate in that story, there came a severance of that fortuitous collaboration between novelist and artist which had been maintained during a period of twenty-three years. As there is no evidence of any actual rupture between them, it is fair to surmise that a legitimate desire on the part of d.i.c.kens for a new ill.u.s.trator const.i.tuted the actual reason for that severance. ”Phiz” naturally felt aggrieved at ”d.i.c.kens's strangely silent manner of breaking the connection,” and could only surmise the reason; for, in an undated letter to Mr. Robert Young, written presumably a short time before the publication of the succeeding story, he said: ”Marcus [Stone] is no doubt to do d.i.c.kens. _I_ have been a 'good boy,' I believe. The plates in hand are all in good time, so that I do not know what's 'up,' any more than you. d.i.c.kens probably thinks a new hand would give his old puppets a fresh look, or perhaps he does not like my ill.u.s.trating Trollope neck-and-neck with him--though, by Jingo, he need fear no rivalry _there_! Confound all authors and publishers, say I. There is no pleasing one or t'other. I wish I had never had anything to do with the lot.”
The amicable relations.h.i.+p that had subsisted between the author and his princ.i.p.al ill.u.s.trator was not strained by this event. As a matter of fact, the artist ever entertained a tender regard and admiration for the famous romancer with whom he had so long been a.s.sociated, and we may readily believe what a writer in the _Frankfurt Zeitung_ tells us when he says: ”Just after the death of Charles d.i.c.kens, 'Phiz' was considerably affected by the mere mention of the name of that ill.u.s.trious novelist, which seemed to stir up in his breast feelings of regret at losing such a friend.”
Hablot Knight Browne, as designer of the plates for ten of the fourteen princ.i.p.al novels by ”Immortal Boz,” is justly termed ”the ill.u.s.trator of d.i.c.kens.” His name and fame are similarly identified with the works of Lever and Ainsworth, while, in addition to this, his familiar signature (”Fizz, Whizz, or something of that sort,” as Tom Hood used to say, when endeavouring to recall the artist's sign-manual) may be found appended to innumerable etchings and woodcuts. He was born at Kennington, London, in July 1815, being the ninth son of William Loder Browne, who is somewhat indefinitely described as ”a merchant.” The artist's forefathers were of French descent, the original name (according to tradition) being Le Brun, a member of which family emigrated to England after the Ma.s.sacre of St Bartholomew in 1572. His ancestors lived in London in the early part of the last century and adopted the essentially English cognomen of Browne. With regard to the artist's baptismal names, it is interesting to learn that the first (Hablot) was the patronymic of a Colonel (or Captain) who was engaged to marry a sister of ”Phiz,” but was killed in a charge of Napoleon's Garde Imperiale at Waterloo, while the second (Knight) was received from Admiral Sir John Knight, an old friend of the family; thus, in respect of names, was the artist a.s.sociated with both Army and Navy.
”Phiz” inherited a strong artistic faculty, and, when a boy, was encouraged to cultivate his wonderful talent for drawing by his brother-in-law, Mr. Elhanan Bicknell, the well-known Art patron, who took so keen an interest in his welfare that he offered to defray all expenses of a thorough art education. It was through Mr. Bicknell's generosity that the youth was apprenticed to Finden, the engraver, who, it appears, more than once complained that his _protege_ persisted in covering with comic figures the entire margins of the plates entrusted to him, thus indicating the humorous bent of his mind. In after years he took occasional lessons in painting, but he never distinguished himself as a painter, although he occasionally exhibited at the Royal Academy and other public galleries. The only regular training he ever had was at Finden's; but the work he was required to perform there proved much too irksome and monotonous for one who, like ”Phiz,” possessed ideas so eminently original and fanciful. As in the case of his two famous contemporaries, Cruikshank and Leech, ”Phiz” could never accustom himself to draw from the living model, which accounts, of course, for his conventional treatment of the human figure; his representations of moving crowds, as well as other scenes of life and character, being drawn either from recollection or by the aid of a few slightly-pencilled memoranda.
It is unfortunate for my present purpose that nearly all the correspondence which pa.s.sed between author and artist should have been destroyed. I am enabled, however, to print one or two brief notes indicating their friendly and familiar relations.h.i.+p. In 1841, ”Phiz”
supplied some etchings to ”The Pic Nic Papers,” a collection of essays edited by d.i.c.kens and produced for the benefit of Mrs. Macrone, the widow of the well-known publisher, who had been left in impoverished circ.u.mstances. In reply to an inquiry on the part of the novelist respecting the ill.u.s.trations, the artist wrote:--
”MY DEAR d.i.c.kENS,--I have just got one boot on, intending to come round to you, but you have done me out of a capital excuse to myself for idling away this fine morning. I quite forgot to answer your note, and Mr. Macrone's book has not been very vividly present to my memory for some time past, for both of which offences I beg innumerable pardons. I think by the beginning of next [week] or the middle (_certain_) I shall have done the plates, but on the sc.r.a.ps of copy that I have I can see but _one good_ subject, so if you know of another, pray send it me. I should like 'Malcolm' again, if you can spare him.--Yours very truly,
”Very short of paper.
”HABLoT K. BROWNE.”
The following terse epistle is undated, which is characteristic of ”Phiz's” letters:--
”MY DEAR d.i.c.kENS,--I am sorry I cannot have a touch at battledore with you to-day, being already booked for this evening, but I will give you a call to-morrow after church, and take my chance of finding you at home.--Yours very sincerely,
”HABLoT K. BROWNE.”
On March 15, 1847, when forwarding to the artist some written instructions respecting a ”Dombey” ill.u.s.tration, the novelist made an interesting allusion to an early incident in his own life. ”I wish you _had_ been at poor Hall's[28] funeral, and I am sure they would have been glad.... He lies in Highgate Cemetery, which is beautiful....Is it not a curious coincidence, remembering our connection afterwards, that I bought the magazine [_The Monthly Magazine_, Dec. 1833] in which the first thing I ever wrote was published [”A Dinner at Poplar Walk”] from poor Hall's hands? I have been thinking all day of that, and of that time when the Queen went into the City, and we drank claret (it was in their [Chapman & Hall's] earlier days) in the counting-house. You remember?”
Footnote 28: Partner in the firm of Chapman & Hall.
”Phiz” received fifteen guineas each for his early plates, but sometimes agreed to accept smaller fees; he estimated that it took him ten days to prepare and etch four designs. Being a bad business man, he never raised his prices, the consequence being that his income was not what it should have been for one who so long held a unique position as an ill.u.s.trator of popular books. During the first ten or twelve years of his professional life he was comparatively prosperous, but when etching as a means of ill.u.s.trating went out of favour, and he became somewhat indifferent concerning this method of work, his income suffered considerably. The artist did not actually experience financial difficulties, however, until he was seized with a serious illness in 1867, said to have been partly caused by his having slept in a draught at a seaside house. After five months of great suffering he again essayed to use his pencil, but it soon became obvious to his friends that his health was completely shattered, and that, in less than six months, he had become a broken-down old man. The worst trouble of all was a partial paralysis of the right arm and leg, which he persisted in calling ”rheumatism,” and in consequence of which his hand lost its cunning. Then it was that the demand for his work practically ceased. ”I don't know where to turn or what to do,” he wrote in 1879. ”I have at last come to a full stop, and don't see my way just yet to get on again.
My occupation seems gone, extinct; I suppose I am thought to be used up, and I have been long enough before the public. I have not had a single thing to do this year, nor for some months previous in the past year.”
In 1878, at the suggestion of his friend Mr. Luke Fildes, R.A., ”Phiz”
applied to Government for a pension. The pet.i.tion was prepared by Mr.
Robert Young, but the result was unfavourable. Happily he received unexpected a.s.sistance from another quarter, in the shape of a well-deserved annuity from the Royal Academy, awarded in recognition of his distinguished services to Art. Ever hopeful of being restored to health, he began on his recovery to again use his pencil, but the crippled condition of his right hand, together with the rapid decline of his fanciful imagination and power of invention, made it impossible for him to produce anything worthy of his past reputation. At length his affliction became so p.r.o.nounced that all hope of recovery was abandoned, and on the 8th of July 1882 the famous ”Phiz” breathed his last, in his sixty-seventh year. He spent the end of his busy life in the quiet seclusion of Hove, and his last resting-place is on the summit of a hill on the northern side of the extra-mural cemetery at Brighton.