The amicable relationship that had subsisted between the author and his principal illustrator 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 associated, and we may readily believe what a writer in the Frankfurt Zeitung tells us when he says: "Just after the death of Charles Dickens, 'Phiz' was considerably affected by the mere mention of the name of that illustrious novelist, which seemed to stir up in his breast feelings of regret at losing such a friend."
Hablôt Knight Browne, as designer of the plates for ten of the fourteen principal novels by "Immortal Boz," is justly termed "the illustrator of Dickens." 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 Massacre 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 (Hablôt) 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 Impériale 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 associated 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 protégé 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 passed between author and artist should have been destroyed. I am enabled, however, to print one or two brief notes indicating their friendly and familiar relationship. In 1841, "Phiz" supplied some etchings to "The Pic Nic Papers," a collection of essays edited by Dickens and produced for the benefit of Mrs. Macrone, the widow of the well-known publisher, who had been left in impoverished circumstances. In reply to an inquiry on the part of the novelist respecting the illustrations, the artist wrote:—
"My Dear Dickens,—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 scraps 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.
Hablôt K. Browne."
The following terse epistle is undated, which is characteristic of "Phiz's" letters:—
"My Dear Dickens,—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,
"Hablôt K. Browne."
On March 15, 1847, when forwarding to the artist some written instructions respecting a "Dombey" illustration, 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?"
"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 illustrator 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 illustrating 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."