SAMUEL COOK, ARTIST. 417 
known in the art world of London before a demand for his 
works is created. Even then he is very much at the mercy of 
dealers, who can almost make or mar any artist, and certainly can 
regulate the value of his productions. Cook did not live long 
enough, nor was he sufficiently known amongst picture-buyers to 
create a demand ; he was just beginning to be so when his end 
was approaching. I believe the most he was ever paid for a single 
drawing was £40. At his death, and for years subsequently, 
his drawings realized at the least ten times what he got for 
them. He was excessively moderate in his prices, and many of his 
slight out-door sketches sold after his death for considerably more 
than he had been paid for the finished drawings he made from 
them. I cannot refrain from adding that the number of copies 
which have been made from his works must have materially 
operated against the sale of the original drawings. Good judges 
have been deceived by these copies, and the general public might 
readily be. No one should be blamed for copying Samuel Cook ; 
let blame be reserved only for those who sell such copies under 
the pretence that they are originals. 
Cook’s failing health assumed a serious aspect about January, 
1859, when he was laid up in bed at his then residence in York 
Street. I saw him in this state, and took him some drawings of 
London artists to see, and they interested him much. He talked 
to me of some pleasant times we had had together, and it was clear 
from what he said that he was impressed with a belief he was not 
going to recover. At his request I made a short will for him. The 
last drawings he had made were then exhibiting at the Water 
Colour Gallery in London. One of them I am very happy to possess 
—a foggy morning at the Lion Rock, near the Lizard. 
Under the medical advice of Mr. Square, who was attending 
him, he was then removed to West Ham, a lodging-house on the 
old Saltash Road. There I saw him as often as circumstances 
would permit, Mr. Mitchell and other intimate friends doing the 
same. On each occasion we noticed that he was losing ground, 
evidently sinking from sheer exhaustion. The greatest anxiety 
and sympathy were felt for him during this ulness by a very large 
circle of friends who had learnt to know him and respect him. 
Amongst these the late Earl of Mount Edgcumbe was good enough 
to offer him a suite of apartments at the Winter Villa, at Stone- 
house, or the use of his steam-yacht to take him to the Mediter- 
