"Messrs. Dalziel."
In a conversation with Richard Doyle he told us that his father (who was the celebrated "H.B.," a political caricaturist during the thirties and forties) always urged his sons to practise drawing from memory, taking all sorts of subjects; that in their walks they should always try to remember one or more figures they had seen, and immediately on their return home, make the best drawing they could in pen and ink; also to frequent the National Gallery or other important picture exhibitions, remaining in front of any one picture that might attract their attention until they had fairly mastered the subject, and then to make the best recollection of it in pencil or colour as they felt inclined. He highly approved of this method, and felt he had derived great benefit from the process himself.
"O breaking heart that will not break,
Oriana!
O pale, pale face so sweet and meek,
Oriana!
Thou smilest but thou dost not speak,
And then the tears run down my cheek,
Oriana!"
—Tennyson.
By F. R. Pickersgill, R.A.
By permission of Messrs. George Routledge & Sons.
Doyle had a facile pencil when once fairly at work, but he was singularly deficient as to the value of time, which appears strange in one who produced so many elaborate drawings; but little reliance could be placed upon him even when working for periodical publications. On one occasion when illustrating a story by Thackeray, the number had to be issued short of certain pictures that had been arranged for. Thackeray was a good deal annoyed and asked Doyle if he could give any reason why he had not done the drawings. He replied in his cool, deliberate manner: "Eh—er—the fact is, I had not got any pencils."
The matter of pencils was always one of some trouble and difficulty with Doyle. The following letter is a fair example of what was a not infrequent occurrence: