WILKIE (SIR DAVID), R.A.
DAVID WILKIE, the son of a Scotch minister, was born in 1785. His genius for the art in which he was destined to become so famous, was displayed even in his infancy, and led to his being sent to study in the Edinburgh Academy, where he had for his fellow-students Sir William Allen and John Burnet. At the age of nineteen his performances had attracted so much notice that he was confirmed in his professional career. He started for London, studied at the Academy, became an exhibitor, and so paved the way for his bright success of after-years. Among his intimate companions was Haydon,—another equally celebrated painter, though not equally successful, who relates the following:—
“When the Academy opened, Wilkie, who had gained admission as a probationer by means of a drawing from the Niobe, took his seat with his class. Something of his Edinburgh fame had preceded him: Jackson, at that time a student, seems to have seen as well as heard of him, for he wrote to me, then young and ardent, to hasten from Devonshire, for that a tall, pale, thin Scotsman had just come to study at the Academy, who had done something from Macbeth, of which report spoke highly. Touched with this, I came at once to London and went to the Academy. Wilkie, the most punctual of mankind, was there before me. We sat and drew in silence for some time; at length Wilkie rose, came and looked over my shoulder, said nothing, and resumed his seat. I rose, went and looked over his shoulder, said nothing, and resumed my seat. We saw enough to satisfy us of each other’s skill, and when the class broke up we went and dined together.”
The acquaintance thus begun ripened into a warm friendship, notwithstanding occasional disputes arising from a dissimilarity in taste of the two artists.
Haydon also relates the following:—
“Wilkie, who was always hospitable in his nature, invited me one morning to breakfast, soon after his arrival in London, I went accordingly to 8, Norton Street, and knocked at the door of his apartments; a voice said, ‘Come in.’ I opened the door and found, instead of the breakfast which I expected, the painter sitting partly naked and drawing from his left knee for a figure which he had on his easel. He was not at all moved, for nought moved Wilkie; and when I expressed some surprise at what he was about, he replied with a smile, ‘It’s capital practice, let me tell you.’”
About this time (1805), in a letter written by Wilkie to a fellow-student, occurs the following characteristic passage: “And I am convinced now that no picture can possess real merit unless it is a just representation of nature.”
On the sale of his first commission picture, “The Village Politicians,” he thus buoyantly concludes a letter to his father, “My ambition is got beyond all bounds, and I have the vanity to hope that Scotland will one day be proud to boast of your affectionate son,
“David Wilkie.”