young days was known in the district as the handsome
miller. His windmills, when he took to painting, were wonderful, and
well deserved the criticism of his brother, who used to say, 'When I look
at a windmill painted by John, I see that it will go round, which is not
always the case with those of other artists,' for the simple reason that
John knew what he was about, which the others did not. Again, his
industrial career helped him in another way. A miller learns to study
the clouds, and Constable's clouds were exceptionally life-like and real.
The handsome young miller soon acquired artistic friends, one of them
being Sir George Beaumont, the guide, philosopher, and friend of most of
the geniuses of that time. Said another to him, 'Do not trouble yourself
about inventing figures for a landscape; you cannot remain an hour in a
spot without the appearance of some living thing, that will in all
probability better accord with the scene and the time of day than any
invention of your own.' After a visit to his artist friends in London,
he resumed his mill life, and in 1779 he finally commenced his artistic
career, and painted all the country round. His studies were chiefly
Dedham, East Bergholt, the Valley of the Stour, and the neighbouring
village of Stratford. At Stoke Nayland he painted an altar-piece for the
church. There is also another altar-piece in a neighbouring church, but
his altar-pieces are not known or treasured like his other works.

Cooper tells a good story of Constable. One day Stodart, the sculptor,
met Fuseli starting forth with an old umbrella. 'Why do you carry the
umbrella?' asked the sculptor. 'I am going to see Constable,' was the
reply, 'and he is always painting rain.' One can only remark that, if
Constable was always painting rain, he always did it well.

Another good story was told Redgrave by Lee. 'I hear you sell all your
pictures,' said Constable to the younger landscape-painter. 'Why, yes,'
said Lee; 'I'm pretty fortunate. Don't you sell yours?' 'No,' said
Constable, 'I don't sell any of my pictures, and I'll tell you why: when
I paint a _bad_ picture I don't like to part with it, and when I paint a
_good_ one I like to keep it.' It is well known that one year when
Constable was on the Council of the Royal Academy, one of his own
pictures was passed by mistake before the judges. 'Cross it,' said one.
'It won't do,' said another. 'Pass on,' said a third. And the carpenter