File:Life and letters of John Constable, R. A (1896) (14592944567).jpg

Identifier: lifelettersofjoh00lesl (find matches)
Title: Life and letters of John Constable, R. A
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors: Leslie, Charles Robert, 1794-1859
Subjects: Contable, John, 1776-1837 Artists
Publisher: London : Chapman and Hall
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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to that gentleman ; butas Mr. Fisher considered the price, one hundred guineas, to befar below its value, he, with much delicacy, in a letter toConstable, spoke of the transaction as our joint present. Thisnoble picture, which I well remember in the exhibition of 1820,and which has since been admirably engraved by Mr. Lucas, isabout as large as The White Horse, and has more subject.On the extreme left of the spectator, the wheel and part of awatermill are seen. In the foreground are some children fishing;admirable for the expression of their attitudes, their faces notbeing seen. Sir George Beaumont said of the largest boy,that he was undergoing the agony of a bite. To the right,and in the middle distance, a barge lies with extreme elegance ofperspective on the smooth river; light clouds throw theirshadows over a rising distance of great beauty, and a group oftall trees forms the centre of the composition. It is a view, andwhen it was painted was an exact one, of Stratford Mill on the
Text Appearing After Image:
O I 2 O I I i82i.) STOTHARDS CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. 95 Stour, not far from Bergholt.* Constable sent with it a smallpicture to the Academy, A View of Harwich Lighthouse.f Weymouth, February xc^tJi, 1821. My dear Constable,—I am here paying the last dutiesto my wifes mother. She died silently and suddenly on Mondaymorning at three oclock. Rather a singular accident happenedto me in consequence of her death. I was in the church atOsmington, with the old clerk alone, pointing out the site of hergrave, when the old man suddenly exclaimed, I cannot stand,sir, and, dropping into my arms, died. When you next see Stothard tell him the following anec-dote. I went to call upon a poor curate, living in one of our mudvillages on a lonely part of this coast, and was shown into a dark,low, underground parlour. Casting my eye round the comfort-less walls, it was refreshed by spying in a corner a most charm-ing bit of light and shadow; and walking up to see what else itcontained, I found Stothards Ca

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