PROFESSOR HERKOMER, A.R A., ON APPRENTICESHIP.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1581, 18 March 1887, Page 3

PROFESSOR HERKOMER, A.R A., ON APPRENTICESHIP.

A HISTORY.

In delivering the prizes to the student* of the science and art classes at Folkestone, Sir E. W. Watkin, M. P., read the following characteristic letter from Professor Herkomer:—

My father, of course, is a splendid sample of the past ago that honoured apprenticeship, ht your hearers know what the dignity of apprenticeship means. My father was apprenticed at 14 years of age, had to do all the hard w>rk of boys at tint time, clean hit master's boots, &c, and though he sat with the master's family (as all the other workmen did) at table, he never had quite enough to eat. He had to learn his trade as well as he could by watching, and without real tuition. On Sundays the apprentices of all the trades were marshalled in procession, accomprnied by gendarmes, to the three schools—Sunday school, day school, and drawing school. During that time my father already showed great ability ap a draughtsman. Hie matter, Hampfstaenge (the father of the prpsent well-k-own photographer in Munich,) saw his talent, and wanted him to compete for the one silver m< dal given that year to the apprentices for drawing in Munich, but he was tjo poor to buy the material. So the master gave him the paper, Indian ink, and materials, and his drawings gained the silver medal. I have those drawings now. They are mastorly in their beautiful precision and delicacy of touch. The prizes were awarded by the Mayor of the town in the fine old town-hall of Munich—there was a great crowd of people to see the apprentices get their prizes* and when my father received tis medal from the hands of the Mayor a blast of trumpets sounded to mark the event. It was the only time in his life, said my father, " that he did not feel his legs as he walked out." Those are great triumphs. He then worked his way up to be journeyman workman, and then travelled on foot, with a knapsack on his back, to Amsterdam, Brussels, and Paris, learning all the different methods of wo r k in each city and country, when ha made his masterpiece, and was pronounced an extra good master of his craft, lie then made another tour on foot, and when he r< turned be went in for a thorough course of perspective and geometry, and also studied the Gothic style from its foundation.

He then settled in his native place, starting with the commission to make a new altar for the church. But his mind was "ahead" of the times. He had his romantic notions, and wished to build his own house. lie pulled down the house left him by his father, which was in a bad state, and built a charming house which still stands, and in which I was born. But though it was simple it was dignified. However, lht"? spoilt Germany. He felt it was too "tight," and in lbol we three—my father and mother arid I (two years o'd)— emigrated to America. There the climate after six years affected the health of my mother and myself, and we came tu England. Now, in England at that time there was no tastp for workmanship. We struggled with poverty until I could earn some money. But here mark the difference. The noble man who had gone through the severe training never allowed poverty to take one diguified thought from him or to make him feel that life had only misery for him. He gave up smoking and drinking alcoholic liquors, and even eating meat, so as to reduce expenses. My dear mother gave music lessons for middle-class people. We had to live on a week. With this my father had few chances of showing bis skill; but he did buy a little wood from time to time, and did beautiful carved work without, however, being able to sell it. Still he wan a master, and lived a dignified life that could only come to a man when trained as he wa* trained. He never would have had the self-coutrol without that training. He was my one companion "s a boy. I worked with him. He knew how to guide my enthusiasm, and with scarcely any means at hand I learned a craft, I learned to use my hands, and every day of my life do I bless the difficulti a that really threw me so much in his company. He was to me not only a father, but an ideal man All his emotions, all his principle* I d ank in, and now it is my privilege to be able to work out the dream of his life. All the work he has done for years will have a shrine, and so too the work of his two brothers- the carver and the weaver —in my great house. The blessings of temperance ho has also given me. Can you imagine »uch a life without an apprenticeship ? I cannot. It is tho curse of the age that young people wish to jump iuto maturity at abound, and that the desire is not to do, but to " get done;" to deal in the article, not to make it. Respectability has cursed this age in this country—a craftsman is not supposed to be a gentleman.