man the sculptor, who advised that he should "not be cramped with
lessons in drawing; let his _genius_," he said, "follow its own bent,
and he will astonish the world." This advice was so far followed, that
we believe we are justified in saying that beyond the ordinary
perfunctory drawing lessons obtained at school, he received no other
artistic education during the rest of his life. His father, the
"profound Shakesperian scholar" and "perfect gentleman," so little
encouraged the bent of the boy's genius, that if he had had his way he
would have driven this square peg into a very round hole. At sixteen
years of age he took his son from the Charterhouse, and shortly
afterwards apprenticed him to an eccentric person at Hoxton, nominally
carrying on the profession of a surgeon, and rejoicing in the name of
Whittle.

[Illustration:
JOHN LEECH. "_Illuminated Magazine._"

THE MAYOR AND CORPORATION OF SWINESTEAD WAIT UPON MR. BAGGES.

_Face p. 278._]

This Whittle proved a perfect study to the young artist, and it is
possible that his connection with this eccentric personage had some
influence in deciding him not to follow a profession for which he had
but little sympathy. Whittle was a man of large frame and muscular
development, so far at least as the upper part of his body was
concerned, but the development extended no farther, his legs being
formed on much more slender proportions. His tastes were decidedly
athletic; he had rings let into the wall for the purpose of practising
gymnastics, and delighted in posing before his amused pupils in the
character of "The Dying Gladiator," "Hercules," and other antique
statues. The few patients he possessed had small chance of professional
attendance when Mr. Whittle was in training for a walking or running
match, or any other amateur athletic engagement. "When," says Shirley
Brooks, "lady patients, taking a walk, are suddenly surrounded by a
hurrying and shouting crowd, in the middle of which, as they escape,
they behold their medical adviser, in quaint attire, rushing to pick up
stones with his mouth, an early termination of the relations between the
healer and his patients is not impossible."[127] A person of this kind
was obviously out of his element in a _learned_ profession, and this
Whittle eventually recognised, and descended to his level by marrying
one of his patients, a widow who kept a neighbouring public. He found
himself more "at home" behind the bar in his s