Chapter VIII: Part II (3)

Verrio, who painted the ceilings in Windsor Castle, was a great favourite with Charles II. The painter was very expensive, and kept a great table; he often pressed the King for money, with a freedom encouraged by his Majesty’s own frankness. Once, at Hampton Court, when he had but lately received an advance of £1000, he found the King in such a circle, that he could not approach. He called out, “Sire, I desire the favour of speaking to your Majesty.” “Well, Verrio,” said the King, “what is your request?” “Money, Sire; I am so short of cash, that I am not able to pay my workmen; and your Majesty and I have learned by experience, that pedlars and painters cannot long live on credit.” The King smiled, and said “he had but lately ordered him £1000.” “Yes, Sire,” replied Verrio; “but that was soon paid away, and I have no gold left.” “At that rate,” said the King, “you would spend more money than I do to maintain my family.” “True,” answered Verrio; “but does your Majesty keep an open table as I do?”

HOGARTH’S PICTURES AT VAUXHALL GARDENS.

Soon after his marriage, Hogarth had summer lodgings at South Lambeth, and became intimate with Jonathan Tyers, then proprietor of Vauxhall Gardens. On passing the tavern one morning, Hogarth saw Tyers, and observing him to be very melancholy, “How now, Master Tyers; why so sad this morning?” said the painter. “Sad times, Master Hogarth,” replied Tyers, “and my reflections were on a subject not likely to brighten a man’s countenance: I was thinking, do you know, which was likely to prove the easiest death, hanging or drowning.” “Oh,” said Hogarth, “is it come to that?” “Very nearly, I assure you,” said Tyers. “Then,” replied Hogarth, “the remedy you think of applying is not likely to mend the matter; don’t hang or drown to-day. I have a thought that may save the necessity of either, and will communicate it to you to-morrow morning; call at my house in Leicester Fields.” The interview took place, and the result was the concocting and getting up the first “Ridotto al Fresco,” which was very successful; one of the new attractions being the embellishment of the pavilions in the gardens by Hogarth’s pencil. Thus he drew the Four Parts of the Day, which Hayman copied; and the two scenes of Evening and Night, with portraits of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn. Hayman was one of the earliest members of the Royal Academy, and was, when young, a scene-painter at Drury Lane Theatre.

Hogarth was at this time in prosperity, and assisted Tyers more essentially than by the few pieces he painted for the gardens; and for this Tyers presented the painter with a gold ticket of admission for himself and friends, which was handed down to Hogarth’s descendants--the medal being for the admission of six persons, or “one coach,” as it was termed.

RUBENS AND THE LION.

It is related that Rubens caused a remarkably fine and powerful lion to be brought to his house, in order to study him in every variety of attitude. One day, Rubens observing the lion yawn, was so pleased with his action, that he wished to paint it, and he desired the keeper to tickle the animal under the chin, to make him repeatedly open his jaws; at length, the lion became savage at this treatment, and cast such furious glances at his keeper, that Rubens attended to his warning, and had the animal removed. The keeper is said to have been torn to pieces by the lion shortly afterwards; apparently, he had never forgotten the affront.

NARROW ESCAPE.

Andrea Boscoli, the Italian painter, whilst sketching the fortifications of Loretto, was seized by the officers of justice, and condemned to be hanged; but he happily escaped within a few hours of execution, by the interposition of Signor Bandini, who explained to the chief magistrate the painter’s innocent object.

GAINSBOROUGH.

Gainsborough was born at Sudbury, in Suffolk, in 1727, and had the good fortune to take Nature for his mistress in art, and her to follow through life. Respecting this painter, memory is strong in his native place. A beautiful wood, of four miles extent, is shown, whose ancient trees, winding glades, and sunny nooks inspired him while yet a school-boy with the love of art. Scenes are pointed out where he used to sit and fill his copy-books with pencillings of flowers and trees, and whatever pleased his fancy. No fine clump of trees, no picturesque stream nor romantic glade, no cattle grazing, nor flocks reposing, nor peasants pursuing their work, nor pastoral occupations, escaped his diligent pencil. He received some instruction from Gravelot; and from Hayman, the friend of Hogarth. Having married, he settled in Ipswich; but in his thirty-first year removed to Bath, where he was appreciated as he deserved, and was enabled by his pencil to live respectably.

He then removed to London, where he added the lucrative branch of portrait-painting to his favourite pursuit of landscape. The permanent splendour of his colours, and the natural and living air which he communicated to whatever he touched, made him at this time, in the estimation of many, a dangerous rival of Sir Joshua himself.

Gainsborough was quite a child of nature, and everything that came from his easel smacked strongly of that raciness, freshness, and originality, the study of nature alone can give. “The Woodman and his Dog in the Storm” was one of his favourite compositions; yet, while he lived, he could find no purchaser at the paltry sum of one hundred guineas. After his death, five hundred guineas were paid for it by Lord Gainsborough, in whose house it was subsequently burnt. “The Shepherd’s Boy in the Shower,” and the “Cottage Girl with her Dog and Pitcher,” were also his prime favourites. Although having the good taste to express no contempt for the society of literary or fashionable men, Gainsborough, unlike the courtly Sir Joshua, cared little for their company. Music was his passion, or rather, next to his profession, the business of his life. Smith, in his _Life of Nollekens_, relates that he once found Colonel Hamilton playing so exquisitely to Gainsborough on the violin, that the artist exclaimed, “Go on, and I will give you the picture of the ‘Boy at the Stile,’ which you have so often wished to purchase of me.” The Colonel proceeded, and the painter stood in speechless admiration, with tears of rapture on his cheek. Hamilton then called a coach, and carried away the picture.

HAYDON AT SCHOOL.

Haydon was born at Plymouth, and at ten years old was sent to the Grammar School, under the care of the Rev. Dr. Bidlake, who possessed great taste for painting, and first noticed Haydon’s love of drawing; and, as a reward for diligence in school, the reverend gentleman used to indulge his pupil by admitting him to his painting-room, where he was allowed to pass his hal.-holidays.

At the age of fourteen, Haydon was sent to Plympton St. Mary School, where Sir Joshua Reynolds acquired all the scholastic knowledge he ever received. On the ceiling of the school-room was a sketch drawn by Reynolds with a burnt cork; and it was young Haydon’s delight to sit and contemplate this early production of the great master. Whilst at this school, he was about to join the medical profession; but the witnessing of an operation at once debarred him. When he left the Plympton School, after a stay there of about two years, he had not decided what profession he should pursue; and whilst at home in this unsettled state, his mind was never at rest, but he was constantly employed in drawing or painting, and reading hard. About this time, Reynolds’s “Discourses” attracted his attention, and fixed his resolution on painting; and, as the first step to which, he resolved to study anatomy.

RUBENS’S DAY.

Rubens was in the habit of rising very early: in summer at four o’clock, and immediately afterwards he heard mass. He then went to work, and while painting, he habitually employed a person to read to him from one of the classical authors, (the favourites being Livy, Plutarch, Cicero, and Seneca,) or from some eminent poet. This was the time when he generally received his visitors, with whom he entered willingly into conversation on a variety of topics, in the most animated and agreeable manner. An hour before dinner was always devoted to recreation, which consisted either in allowing his thoughts to dwell as they listed on subjects connected with science or politics,--which latter interested him deeply,--or in contemplating his treasures of art. From anxiety not to impair the brilliant play of his fancy, he indulged but sparingly in the pleasures of the table, and drank but little wine. After working again till evening, he usually, if not prevented by business, mounted a spirited Andalusian horse, and rode for an hour or two. This was his favourite exercise: he was extremely fond of horses, and his stables generally contained some of remarkable beauty. On his return home, it was his custom to receive a few friends, principally men of learning, or artists, with whom he shared his frugal meal, (he was the declared enemy of all excess,) and passed the evening in instructive and cheerful conversation. This active and regular mode of life could alone have enabled Rubens to satisfy all the demands which were made upon him as an artist; and the astonishing number of works he completed, the genuineness of which is beyond all doubt, can only be accounted for through his union of extraordinary diligence with the acknowledged fertility of his productive powers.

DILIGENCE OF RUBENS.

Like other great painters, Rubens was an architect, too; and, besides his own house, the church and the college of the Jesuits, in Antwerp, were built from his designs.

We are enabled to form some estimate of the astonishingly productive powers of Rubens, when we consider that about 1000 of his works have been engraved; and, including copies, the number of engravings from his works amount to more than 1500. The extraordinary number of his paintings adorn not merely the most celebrated public and private galleries, and various churches in Europe, but they have even found their way to America. In Lima, especially, there are several, and some of them of considerable value and excellence. Yet, of the countless pictures everywhere attributed to Rubens, but a small proportion were entirely painted by his own hands; the others contain more or less of the workmanship of his pupils. The greatest number of works, begun and finished by his own hands, are to be found in the galleries of Madrid, Antwerp, and Blenheim.--_Mrs. Jameson’s Translation of Dr. Waagen’s Essay on Rubens._

HAYDON’S “JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON.”

This picture was bought of the artist by Sir W. Elford and Mr. Tingcomb, for 700_l._ Whilst painting it, Haydon got embroiled in a controversy on the Elgin Marbles, with Mr. Payne Knight, one of the Directors of the British Institution. This gave great offence; and when the painter had been four months at work on the “Solomon,” he was left without resources; but, by selling successively his books, prints, and clothes, he was enabled to go on with his picture. At length, after a labour of two years, and by a closing exertion of painting six days, and nearly as many nights, the picture was completed, and exhibited in Spring Gardens, with great success. The Directors of the British Institution then showed their sense of Haydon’s genius by a vote of 100 guineas, and all ill-feeling was forgotten. For this work, Haydon was presented with the freedom of the borough of Plymouth, says the vote, “as a testimony of respect for his extraordinary merit as an historical painter; and particularly for the production of his recent picture, ‘the Judgment of Solomon,’ a work of such superior excellence, as to reflect honour on his birthplace, distinction on his name, lustre on the art, and reputation on the country.”

Miss Mitford addressed to the painter the following Sonnet on this picture:--

“Tears in the eye, and on the lips a sigh!
Haydon, the great, the beautiful, the bold,
Thy Wisdom’s King, thy Mercy’s God unfold?
There art and genius blend in unison high,
But this is of the soul. The majesty
Of grief dwells here; grief cast in such a mould
As Niobe’s of yore. The tale is told
All at a glance. ‘A childless mother I!’
The tale is told, and who can e’er forget,
That e’er has seen that visage of despair!
With unaccustomed tears our cheeks are wet,
Heavy our hearts with unaccustomed care,
Upon our thoughts it presses like a debt,
We close our eyes in vain; that face is there.”

Mr. West, on seeing the picture, was affected to tears, at the figure of the pale, fainting mother.

VAN DE VELDE AND BACKHUYSEN.

When Dr. Waagen visited England in 1835, his sea passage gave rise to the following exquisite critical observations: “I must mention as a particularly fortunate circumstance, that the sea gradually subsided from a state of violent agitation to a total calm and a bright sunshine, attenuated with a clouded sky, and flying showers. I had an opportunity of observing in succession all the situations and effects which have been represented by the celebrated Dutch marine painters, William Van de Velde, and Backhuysen. Now, for the first time, I fully understood the truth of their pictures, in the varied undulation of the water, and the refined art with which, by shadows of clouds, intervening dashes of sunshine near, or at a distance, and ships to animate the scene, they produce such a charming variety in the uniform surface of the sea. To conclude in a striking manner this series of pictures, Nature was so kind as to favour us at last with a thunder-storm, but not to interrupt by long-continued rain, suffered it to be of very short duration.”

A PAINTER’S HAIR-DRESSING.

It was the constant practice of Sir Joshua Reynolds, as soon as a female sitter had placed herself on his throne, to destroy the tasteless labours of the hairdresser and the lady’s maid with the end of a pencil-stick.

A MIS-MATCHED PORTRAIT.

Dr. Waagen relates the following singular anecdote of one of the portraits in the Waterloo Chamber at Windsor Castle--that of the minister, William von Humboldt. The conception is poor, and the likeness very general; but the want is, that the body does not at all suit the head; for when king George the Fourth, who was a personal friend of the minister, during his last visit to England, and a short time before his departure, made him sit to Sir Thomas Lawrence, the latter being pressed for time, took a canvass on which he had begun a portrait of Lord Liverpool, and had already finished his body in a purple coat, and painted upon it the head of M. Von Humboldt, intending to alter it afterwards. This, however, in consequence of the death of the king, and of Sir Thomas Lawrence, was not done.

VAST PAINTED WINDOW.

In the spring of 1830, there was exhibited in London a superb specimen of painting on glass, the size almost amounting to the stupendous, being eighteen by twenty-four feet. The term “window,” however, is hardly applicable to this vast work, for there was no framework visible; but the entire picture consisted of upwards of 350 pieces, of irregular forms and sizes, fitted into metal astragals, so contrived as to fall with the shadows, and thus to assist the appearance of an uninterrupted and unique picture upon a sheet of glass.

The subject was “the Tournament of the Field of the Cloth of Gold,” between Henry VIII. and Francis I., in the plain of Ardres, near Calais; a scene of overwhelming gorgeousness, and, in the splendour of its appointments well suited to the brilliant effects which is the peculiar characteristic of painting in enamel. The stage represented was the last tourney on June 25, 1520. The field is minutely described by Hall, whose details the painter had closely followed. There were artificial trees, with green damask leaves; and branches and boughs, and withered leaves, of cloth-of-gold; the trunks and arms being also covered with cloth-of-gold, and intermingled with fruits and flowers of Venice gold; and “their beautie shewed farre.” In these trees were hung, emblazoned upon shields, “the Kynge of Englande’s armes, within a gartier, and the French Kynge’s within a collar of his order of Sainct Michael, with a close croune, with a flower de lise in the toppe;” and around and above were the shields of the noblemen of the two courts. The two queens were seated in a magnificent pavilion, and next to the Queen of England sat Wolsey; the judges were on stages, the heralds, in their tabards, placed at suitable points; and around were gathered the flower of the French and English nobility, to witness this closing glory of the last days of chivalry.

The _action_ of the piece is thus described:--The trumpets sounded, and the two kings and their retinues entered the field; they then put down their vizors, and rode to the encounter valiantly; or, as Hall says, “the ii kynges were ready, and either of them encountered one man-of-armes; the French Kynge to the erle of Devonshire, the Kynge of England to Mounsire Florrenges, and brake his Poldron, and him disarmed, when ye strokes were stricken, this battail was departed, and was much praised.”

The picture contained upwards of one hundred figures (life size) of which forty were portraits, after Holbein and other contemporary authorities. The armour of the two kings and the challenger was very successfully painted; their coursers almost breathed chivalric fire; and the costumes and heraldic devices presented a blaze of dazzling splendour. Among the spectators, the most striking portraits were the two queens; Wolsey, Anne Boleyn, and the Countess of Chateaubriant; Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk; and Queen Mary, Dowager of France; with the ill-fated Duke of Buckingham, whose hasty comment upon the extravagance of the tournament proved his downfall. The elaborate richness of the costumes sparkling with gold and jewels, the fleecy, floating feathers of the champions, their burnished armour and glittering arms, the congregated glories of velvet, ermine, and cloth-of-gold, and the heraldic emblazonry amidst the emerald freshness of the foliage--all combined to form a scene of unparalleled sumptuousness and effect.

The picture was executed in glass by Mr. Thomas Wilmshurst (a pupil of the late Mr. Moss), from a sketch by Mr. R. T. Bone; the horses by Mr. Woodward. The work cost the artist nearly 3000_l._ It was exhibited in a first-floor at No. 15, Oxford-street, and occupied one end of a room decorated for the occasion with paneling and carving in the taste of the time of Henry the Eighth. It was very attractive as an exhibition, and nearly 50,000 descriptive catalogues were sold. Sad, then, to relate, in one unlucky night, the picture and the house were entirely burnt in an accidental fire; not even a sketch or study was saved from destruction; and the property was wholly uninsured. As a specimen of glass painting, the work was very successful: the colours were very brilliant, and the ruby red of old was all but equalled. The artistic treatment was altogether original; the painters, in no instance, borrowing from the contemporary picture of the same scene in the Hampton Court collection.

CLAUDE’S “LIBRO DI VERITA.”

It was thus Claude Lorraine denominated a book in which he made drawings of all the pictures he had ever executed. Since even in his own day his works had obtained a great reputation, it was found that many inferior artists had painted pictures in his style, and sold them as genuine Claudes; so that it was found necessary to prove the authenticity of his paintings by a reference to his “Book of Truth.”

This renowned record of genius is in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire. The drawings are in number about 200, and upon the back of the first is a paper pasted, with the following words in Claude’s own handwriting and orthography:--

“Audi 10 dagosto, 1677. Ce livre aupartien a moy que je faict durant ma vie. Claudio Gillee Dit le lorains. A Roma ce 23. Aos. 1680.”

When Claude wrote the last date, he was seventy-eight years old, and he died two years afterwards. On the back of every drawing is the number, with his monogram, the place for which the picture was painted, and usually the person by whom it was ordered, and the year; but the “Claudio fecit” is never wanting. According to his will, this book was to remain always the property of his own family; and it was so faithfully kept by his immediate descendants, that all the efforts of the Cardinal d’Estrées, the French ambassador at Rome, to procure it, were in vain. His later posterity had so entirely lost all traces of this pious reverence for it, that they sold it for the trifling price of 200 scudi to a French jeweller, who again sold it in Holland, whence it came into the possession of the Duke of Devonshire, who preserved it with due honours. The well-known copies by Barlow, in the work of Boydell, give but a very vague and monotonous representation of these splendid drawings.

Dr. Waagen, who inspected the treasure at Devonshire House, says: “The delicacy, ease, and masterly handling of all, from the slightest sketches to those most carefully finished, exceed description; the latter produce, indeed, all the effect of finished pictures. With the simple material of a pen, and tints of Indian ink, sepia, or bistre, with some white to bring out the lights, every characteristic of sunshine or shade, or ‘the incense-breathing morn,’ is perfectly expressed. Most happily has he employed for this purpose the blue tinge of the paper, and the warm sepia for the glow of evening. Some are only drawn with a pen, or the principal forms are slightly sketched in pencil, with the great masses of light broadly thrown in with white; the imagination easily fills up the rest.”

THE OLDEST PICTURE IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY.

This picture is--Portraits of a Flemish Gentleman and Lady, standing in the middle of an apartment, with their hands joined. In the back-ground are a bed, a mirror, and a window, partly open; the objects in the room being distinctly reflected in the mirror. A branch chandelier hangs from the ceiling, with the candle still burning in it; in the foreground is a small poodle. In the frame of the mirror are ten minute circular compartments, in which are painted stories from the life of Christ; and immediately under the mirror is written “Johannes de Eyck fuit hic,” with the date 1434 below. This signifies literally, “John Van Eyck was this man,” an interpretation which leads to the conjecture that this may be Van Eyck’s own portrait, with that of his wife, though in this case the wife’s name should have been written as well as his own; and the expression is not exactly that which would have been expected. The words are, however, distinctly _fuit hic_. As already mentioned, the date of the picture is 1434, when John Van Eyck was, according to the assumed date of his birth, in his fortieth year, which is about the age of the man in this picture. Van Mander speaks of the painting as the portraits of a man and his wife; or bride and bridegroom: it may be a bridegroom introducing his bride to her home.

This picture, about a century after it was painted, was in the possession of a barber-surgeon at Bruges, who presented it to the then Regent of the Netherlands, Mary, the sister of Charles X., and Queen Dowager of Hungary. This princess valued the picture so highly, that she granted the barber-surgeon in return, an annual pension, or office worth 100 florins per annum. It appears, however, to have again fallen into obscure hands; for it was discovered by Major-General Hay in the apartments to which he was taken in 1815, at Brussels, after he had been wounded at the battle of Waterloo. He purchased the picture after his recovery, and disposed of it to the British Government in 1842, when it was placed in the National Gallery. It is the oldest painting in the collection.

EXPERIMENTAL COLOURING.

The great experimental colourist of the fifteenth century, Van Eyck, has left unfading proofs of his skill as well as his genius; whilst the experimental colourist of the eighteenth century, Sir Joshua Reynolds, has already lost so much of his tone and brightness. The painters of our own time throughout Europe, notwithstanding the recent discoveries in chemistry and natural science, are unable to reproduce the rich hues of Titian, or of the early Germans.

Yet, Van Eyck met with many disappointments. He had just applied a newly-invented combination, (probably of lime-water and some other ingredients,) to a large and highly-finished picture. This mixture required to be rapidly dried; and for that purpose the picture was left for a short time in the sun. When the artist returned to witness the result of his experiment, he found that the action of the heat on the composition had split the canvas, and that his work was utterly ruined! Happily for the arts, their best votaries have possessed the genius of perseverance, as well as the genius of enterprise.

STOTHARD’S FRIEZE.

One of Stothard’s last great designs was that for the frieze of the interior of Buckingham Palace. The subjects are illustrative of the history of England, and principally relative to the Wars of the Red and White Roses. The venerable artist was between seventy and eighty years old when he executed these; and they possess all the spirit and vigour of imagination that distinguished his best days. As a whole, there is not, perhaps, to be found a more interesting series of historical designs of any country in ancient or modern times. The drawing of this frieze ought to have been in the possession of the King; but they were sold at Christie’s, with other works, on the decease of the painter. Mr. Rogers was the purchaser.

JOHN MARTIN ON GLASS PAINTING.

About the year 1844, when John Martin, the historical painter, was examined before the Parliamentary Committee on Arts and Manufactures, he was questioned as to the information he had collected on the subject of glass-painting. To this he replied, “Glass-painting has fallen almost to the same level as china-painting; but it might be greatly improved now to what it was in ancient times. There is an ignorant opinion among the people that the ancient art of glass-painting is completely lost: it is totally void of foundation; for we can carry it to a much higher pitch than the ancients, except in one particular colour, which is that of ruby, and we come very near to that. We can blend the colours, and produce the effect of light and shadow, which they could not do, by harmonizing and mixing the colours in such a way, and fixing by proper enameling and burning, that they shall afterwards become just as permanent as those of the ancients, with the additional advantage of throwing in superior art.” Martin began life as a painter on glass. One of his earliest pictures was for the conservatory at the mansion of the Marquess of Wellesley, at Knightsbridge.

“SITTING FOR THE HAND.”

If you have an artist for a friend, (says N. P. Willis,) he makes use of you while you call, to “sit for the hand” of the portrait on his easel. Having a preference for the society of artists myself, and frequenting their studios considerably, I know of some hundred and fifty unsuspecting gentlemen on canvas, who have procured, for posterity and their children, portraits of their own heads and dress-coats to be sure, but of the hands of other persons.

HAYDON AND FUSELI.

Prince Hoare introduced Haydon to Fuseli, who was so struck with his close attendance at the Royal Academy, that he one day said, “Why, when do you dine?” The account of his introduction is very characteristic. “Such was the horror connected with Fuseli’s name, (says Haydon,) that I remember perfectly well the day before I was to go to him, a letter from my father concluded in these words: ‘God speed you with the terrible Fuseli.’ Awaking from a night of awful dreaming, the awful morning came. I took my sketch-book and drawings,--invoking the protection of my good genius to bring me back alive, and sallied forth to meet the enchanter in his den! After an abstracted walk of perpetual musing, on what I should say, how I should look, and what I should do, I found myself before his door in Berners-street----1805.” Haydon was shown into his painting-room, full of Fuseli’s hideous conceptions. He adds:--“At last, when I was wondering what metamorphosis I was to undergo, the door slowly opened, and I saw a little hand come slowly round the edge of it, which did not look very gigantic, or belonging to a very powerful figure, and round came a little white-faced lion-headed man, dressed in an old flannel dressing-gown, tied by a rope, and the bottom of Mrs. Fuseli’s work-basket on his head for a cap. I was perfectly amazed! there stood the designer of Satan in many an airy whirl plunging to the earth; and was this the painter himself?--Certainly. Not such as I had imagined when enjoying his inventions. I did not know whether to laugh or cry, but at any rate I felt that I was his match if he attempted the supernatural. We quietly stared at each other, and Fuseli kindly understanding my astonishment and inexperience, asked in the mildest voice for my drawings. Here my evil genius took the lead, and instead of showing him my studies from the antique, which I had brought, and had meant to have shown him, I showed him my sketch-book I did not mean to show him, with a sketch I had made coming along, of a man pushing a sugar-cask into a grocer’s shop. Fuseli seeing my fright, said, by way of encouragement, ‘At least the fellow does his business with energy.’ ” From that hour commenced a friendship which lasted till his death.

RICHARD WILSON.

Wilson loved, when a child, to trace figures of men and animals, with a burnt stick, upon the walls of the house, a predilection which his father encouraged. His relation, Sir George Wynn, next took him to London, and placed him under the care of one Wright, an obscure portrait-painter. His progress was so successful, that in 1748, when he was thirty-five years old, he had so distinguished himself as to be employed to paint a picture of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, for their tutor, the Bishop of Norwich. In 1749, Wilson was enabled by his own savings, and the aid of his friends, to go to Italy, where he continued portrait-painting, till an accident opened another avenue to fame, and shut up the way to fortune. Having waited one morning for the coming of Zuccarelli the artist, to beguile the time, he painted a scene upon which the window of his friend looked, with so much grace and effect, that Zuccarelli was astonished, and inquired if he had studied landscape. Wilson replied that he had not. “Then I advise you,” said the other, “to try--for you are sure of success;” and this counsel was confirmed by Vernet, the French painter. His studies in landscape must have been rapidly successful, for he had some pupils in that line while at Rome; and his works were so highly esteemed, that Mengs painted his portrait, for which Wilson, in return, painted a landscape.

It is not known at what time he returned to England; but he was in London in 1758, and resided over the north arcade of the Piazza, Covent-garden, where he obtained great celebrity as a landscape painter. To the first Exhibition of 1760, he sent his picture of Niobe, which confirmed his reputation. Yet Wilson, from inattention to his own interests, lost his connexions and employment, and was left, late in life, in comfortless infirmity--having been reduced to solicit the office of librarian of the Royal Academy, of which he had been one of the brightest ornaments.

THE BRIDGEWATER GALLERY.

Had its origin in the Orleans Gallery. The Italian part of the collection had been mortgaged for 40,000_l._ to Harman’s banking-house, when Mr. Bryan, a celebrated collector and picture-dealer, and author of the “Dictionary of Painters,” induced the Duke of Bridgewater to purchase the whole as it stood for 43,000_l._ The pictures, amounting to 305, were then valued separately by Mr. Bryan, making a total of 72,000_l._; and from among them the Duke selected ninety-four of the finest, at the prices at which they were valued, amounting altogether to 39,000 guineas. The Duke subsequently admitted his nephew, the Earl Gower, and the Earl of Carlisle, to share his acquisition; resigning to the former a fourth part, and to the latter an eighth of the whole number thus acquired. The exhibition and sale of the rest produced 41,000_l._; consequently, the speculation turned out most profitably; for the ninety-four pictures, which had been valued at 39,000_l._, were acquired, in fact, for 2000_l._ The forty-seven retained for the Duke of Bridgewater were valued at 23,130_l._ * * The Duke of Bridgewater already possessed some fine pictures, and after the acquisition of his share of the Orleans Gallery, he continued to add largely to his collection, till his death in 1803, when he left his pictures, valued at 150,000_l._, to his nephew, George, first Marquis of Stafford, afterwards first Duke of Sutherland. During the life of this nobleman, the collection, added to one formed by himself when Earl Gower, was placed in the house in Cleveland-row; and the whole known then, and for thirty years afterwards, as the Stafford Gallery, became celebrated all over Europe. On the death of the Marquis of Stafford, in 1833, his second son, Lord Francis Leveson Gower, taking the surname of Egerton, inherited, under the will of his grand-uncle, the Bridgewater property, including the collection of pictures formed by the Duke. The Stafford Gallery was thus divided: that part of the collection which had been acquired by the Marquis of Stafford fell to his eldest son, the present Duke of Sutherland; while the Bridgewater collection, properly so called, devolved to Lord Francis Egerton, and has resumed its original appellation, being now known as the Bridgewater Gallery. This gallery has a great attraction, owing principally to the taste of its present possessor: it contains some excellent works of modern English painters. Near to the famous “Rising of the Gale,” by Van de Velde, hangs the “Gale at Sea,” by Turner, not less sublime, not less true to the grandeur and the modesty of nature; and by Edwin Landseer, the beautiful original of a composition which the art of the engraver has made familiar to the eye, the “Return of the Hawking Party,” a picture which has all the romance of poetry and the antique time, and all the charm and value of a family picture. Nor should be passed, without particular notice, one of the most celebrated productions of the modern French historical school--“Charles I. in the Guard Room,” by Paul Delaroche; a truly grand picture, which Lord Francis Egerton has added to the Gallery since 1838.--_Mrs. Jameson._

THE LOST PORTRAIT OF PRINCE CHARLES, BY VELASQUEZ.

It is well known that, in 1623, Charles, then Prince of Wales, accompanied by his father’s favourite, George Villiers, the celebrated Duke of Buckingham, visited Madrid, with the avowed object of wooing and winning the Infanta. We are informed by Pacheco, that his son-in-law, Velasquez, received one hundred crowns for taking the portrait of the prince, probably designed as a present to his lady-love. The suit, however, proved unsuccessful; but what became of the picture has not been recorded, even incidentally. There is reason to suppose it was committed to the custody of Villiers, who had at York House, which occupied the site of Villiers, Duke, and Buckingham streets, in the Adelphi, a splendid collection of pictures. Charles, on his return from Spain, reached York House past midnight, on the 6th of October; and the picture may have been left there in some private apartment, and afterwards have gradually fallen out of mind. There was a sale of pictures on the assassination of the first duke. Again, when the second duke fled to the Continent, to escape the vengeance of the parliament, he sold part of his paintings to raise money for his personal support; and according to a catalogue of these pictures, compiled by Vertue, the Velasquez was not among them. Subsequently, the parliament sold part of the remaining pictures. Either at or before the death of the second duke, a fourth sale took place. In 1697, York House was burned down; and it is possible the missing portrait may have been in the house at this date.

A very interesting search after the lost treasure is detailed in a pamphlet, extending to 228 pages, published in 1847, from which these particulars are, in the main, condensed:

About four years since, Mr. Snare, a bookseller, at Reading, and a
dealer in pictures, was much struck with the notice of the
long-lost portrait of Charles, by Velasquez, which occurs in Mr.
Ford’s _Hand-Book for Spain_. Not long after, Mr. Snare,
accompanied by a portrait-painter also living at Reading, went to
Radley Hall, between Abingdon and Oxford, and there, among other
pictures, saw a portrait in which he recognised the features of
Charles the First; the owner told him the figure was by Vandyke,
and the back ground by the artist’s most clever pupils; but a
dreamy conviction came over Mr. Snare that it was the missing
portrait by Velasquez. On the 25th of October, 1845, the pictures
in Radley Hall were sold by auction; Mr. Snare attended, and bought
the portrait for 8_l._, notwithstanding many picture-dealers were
present. After some delay, he took the treasure home: he put it in
all lights; he moistened it with turpentine, which strengthened his
conviction: he ran for his wife to admire it with him, and he was
wrought up to the highest pitch.

“I was quite beside myself,” says he, “with enthusiasm. I could not
eat, and had no inclination to sleep. I sat up till three o’clock
looking at the picture; and early in the morning I rose to place
myself once more before it. I only took my eyes from the painting
to read some book that made reference to the Spaniard whom I
believed its author, or to the Flemish artist to whom, by vague
report, it was attributed.”

To trace the pedigree of the picture was the possessor’s next
object; and, in Pennant’s _London_, he found mentioned the house of
the Earl of Fife, as standing on part of the site of the palace of
Whitehall, anciently called York House, which Mr. Snare confuses
with the York House beyond Hungerford Market, the family mansion of
the Duke of Buckingham. Among the works which adorned Fife House,
Pennant mentions--

“A head of Charles I., when Prince of Wales, done in Spain when he
was there in 1623 on his romantic expedition to court the Infanta.
It is supposed to have been the work of Velasco.”

Here was some clue. Mr. Snare then traced the owner of Radley Hall
to have received the picture from a connoisseur, who in his turn
received a number of pictures from the Earl of Fife’s undertaker,
after his lordship’s funeral, in 1809.

Next he discovered a quarto pamphlet, entitled, “Catalogue of the
Portraits and Pictures in the different houses belonging to the
Earl of Fife, 1798.” A reprint of this catalogue was then found in
the possession of Colonel Tynte, of Halewell, dated in 1807, the
only alteration being a slight addition to the preface. Colonel
Tynte remembers having been shown the pictures at Fife House, by
the Earl himself. On page 38 of the Catalogue, under the head,
“First Drawing-room,” the following entry occurs:--

“Charles I. when Prince of Wales. Three quarters. Painted at
Madrid, 1625, when his marriage with the Infanta was proposed.

---- Velasquez. This picture belonged to the Duke of Buckingham.”

Pennant, however, speaks of the portrait as a head; but this may be
owing to confused recollection, especially as there appears to have
been in the ‘Little Drawing-room of the hall’ a head of Charles I.
by old Stone.

Two persons, upon inspecting the portrait, next identified it as
the picture they had seen at the connoisseur’s, and at the
undertaker’s.

The general opinion, however, seemed to be that the painting was by
Vandyke, not by Velasquez: so believed its possessor at Radley
Hall, and the experienced person who cleaned the picture for Mr.
Snare. He, on the other hand, maintains that although Vandyke was
in England for a few weeks in 1620, there is no proof that he
painted for royalty till 1632, when Charles was too old for the
portrait in question, and when any allusion to the Spanish match
would have been an insult to the nation.

Cumberland, in his “Anecdotes of Eminent Painters in Spain,” states
that Prince Charles did not sit to Velasquez, but that he
(Velasquez) took a sketch of the prince, as he was accompanying
King Philip in the chase. Pacheco seems to have been the authority
to Cumberland, who, however, has mistranslated the passage, which
really should be “in the meantime, he also took a sketch
(_bosquexo_) of the Prince of Wales, who presented him with one
hundred crowns.” The word “sketch,” however suggests another
difficulty, for the picture itself is a fine painting on canvas.
Mr. Ford, in his _Hand Book for Spain_, comes to the rescue, when
he says that Velasquez “seems to have drawn on the canvas, for any
sketches or previous studies are not to be met with.” Still, the
picture in question is all but finished. In it can be traced the
red earthy preparation of the canvas, and the light colour over it,
which Velasquez was accustomed to introduce. The pigments also bear
decisive evidence of their belonging to the Spanish school, and
are exactly similar to the pigments used in the authenticated works
of Velasquez--“the Water Seller,” in the possession of his Grace
the Duke of Wellington; the portrait of Philip II., in the Dulwich
Gallery; and a whole-length portrait, the property of the Earl of
Ellesmere.

Mr. Snare thus describes the painting itself:--

“Prince Charles is depicted in armour, decorated with the order of
St. George; the right arm rests upon a globe, and in the hand is
held a baton; the left arm is leaning upon the hip, being partly
supported by the hilt of the sword; a drapery of a yellow ground,
crossed by stripes of red, is behind the figure, but the curtain is
made to cover one half of the globe on which the right arm is
poised; the expression is tranquil; but in the distance is depicted
a siege, numerous figures being there engaged in storming a town or
fortress.”

Some proofs of identity are traceable in the costume and
accessories. Thus, among the jewels sent to the Prince, was “a fair
sworde, which was Prince Henry’s, fully garnished with dyamondes of
several bignes.”

Now, the hilt of the sword in the picture sparkles as if jewelled.
The drapery, which covers half of the globe, is a rich yellow
damask, with streaks of red. These are the national colours of
Spain.

In the “Memoirs of George Villiers, first Duke of Buckingham,” p.
17, we are told that, on the arrival of the Prince and Marquis--

“He (Olivarez) then complimented the Marquis, and told him, ‘Now
the Prince of England was in Spain, their masters would divide the
world between them.’ ”

Similar mention of dividing the world between them also occurs in
notices of the above meeting in the Journals of the House of
Commons; and in Buckingham’s Narrative, in Rushworth’s Historical
Collections. This may explain the Prince leaning on the globe,
while half of it is covered by the national drapery of Spain.
Still, the globe and drapery were afterthoughts in the painting.

The picture was exhibited for some time in Old Bond-street; but the opinion in favour of its being by Velasquez did not gain ground among connoisseurs: the distance has more of the painter’s manner than the portrait itself, which is rather that of Vandyke. The pamphlet goes very far to settle the identity of the picture with that mentioned in the Fife House Catalogue; but the ascription may merely have been that of the Earl of Fife; and it is somewhat strange that it should not have been specially mentioned as the lost picture, had its identity been positively settled.

Since the publication of Mr. Snare’s pamphlet, Sir Edmund Head, in his “Handbook of the History of the Spanish and French Schools of Painting,” has expressed his disbelief in the authenticity of the picture being the long-lost portrait; adding, first, it is not in his opinion by Velasquez; secondly, it is a finished picture; and, thirdly, it represents Charles as older than twenty-three years, which was his age when at Madrid. Again, Mr. Stirling, in his “Annals of the Artists of Spain,” published in 1848, does not consider the picture proved to be that formerly at Fife House; nor does he regard it as a sketch, (“bosquexo,”) but more than three parts finished. He thinks also that Charles looks considerably older than twenty-three; and he sees “no resemblance in the style of the execution to any of the acknowledged works of Velasquez.” To both these objections, Mr. Snare replied, in a second pamphlet, wherein he opposed to their opinions the cumulative evidence of his unwearied investigations. His first pamphlet, “The History and Pedigree”--is a singularly interesting array of presumptive evidence.[15]

HAYDON’S “MOCK ELECTION.”

While Haydon was an inmate of the King’s Bench Prison, in July, 1827, a burlesque of an election was got up. “I was sitting in my own apartment,” (writes the painter,) “buried in my own reflections, melancholy, but not despairing at the darkness of my own prospects, and the unprotected condition of my wife and children, when a tumultuous and hearty laugh below brought me to my window. In spite of my own sorrow’s, I laughed out heartily when I saw the occasion.” (He sketched the grotesque scene, painted it in four months with the aid of noblemen and friends, and the advocacy of the press, in exciting the sympathy of the country.) “To the joint kindness of each,” wrote the painter, in gratitude, “I owe the peace of the last five months, without which I never could have accomplished so numerous a composition in so short a time.” The picture proved attractive as an exhibition; still better, it was purchased by King George IV. for 500_l._, and it was conveyed from the Egyptian-hall to St. James’s Palace. A committee of gentlemen then undertook Mr. Haydon’s affairs; and with the purchase-money of the picture, and the proceeds of the exhibition, the painter was restored to the bosom of his family. In 1828, he painted, as a companion to this picture, “The Chairing of the Members,” which was bought by Mr. Francis, of Exeter, for 300 guineas.

PORTRAITS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

The Eastern Zoological Gallery of the British Museum has its walls decorated with an assemblage of portraits, in number upwards of one hundred, forming, probably, the largest collection of portraits in the kingdom. The execution of many of them is but indifferent; there are others which are exceedingly curious; and some are unique. Great part of them came into the Museum from having belonged to the Sloanean, Cottonian, and other collections, which now form the magnificent library; and others have been the gifts of individuals. Before the rebuilding of the Museum, many of these pictures were stowed away in the lumber-rooms and attics of the mansion; and it was principally at the suggestion of an eminent London printseller, that they were drawn from their “dark retreat,” cleaned, and the frames regilt, and hung in their present position, above the cases containing the fine zoological specimens. The Gallery itself occupies the whole of the upper story of the wing of the edifice, and has five divisions formed by pilasters, on the side walls, the ceilings being also divided into the same number of compartments, which gives an harmonious proportion to the whole it would not otherwise possess. The light comes from elevated skylights, and it may be a question whether, taken altogether, its advantages for the display of paintings are not superior to those of the National Gallery, in Trafalgar-square.

Among the portraits are those of the English Sovereigns, including Richard II., Henry V., Margaret Countess of Richmond, Edward VI., (no doubt an original,) and Elizabeth, by Zucchero. Here are likewise foreign sovereigns, British statesmen, heroes, and divines, &c., peculiarly appropriate to the place; naturalists and philosophers, mathematicians, navigators, and travellers, whose labours have contributed to enrich this national Museum.

A PAINTER OF THE DEAD.

Bacici, a Genoese painter, in the seventeenth century, had a very peculiar talent of producing exact likenesses of deceased persons he had never seen. He first drew a face at random; and afterwards, altering it in every feature, by the advice and under the inspection of those who had known the subject, he improved it into striking resemblance.

COPLEY’S PORTRAITS.

The fame of Copley as a portrait-painter is comparatively limited. I can speak (says Dr. Dibdin) but of _four_ of his portraits from reminiscence; those of the late Earl Spencer, Lord Sidmouth, Lord Colchester, and the late Richard Heber, Esq.--the latter when a boy of eight years, in the dining-room at Hodnet Hall. These portraits, with the exception of the last, are all engraved. That of Earl Spencer, in his full robes as a Knight of the Garter, and in the prime of his manhood, now placed at the bottom of the great historical portrait gallery at Althorp, must have been a striking likeness; but, like almost all the portraits of the artist, it is too stiff and stately. The portrait of the young Heber has, I think, considerable merit on the score of art. There is a play of light and shadow, and the figure, with a fine flowing head of hair, mixes up well with its accessories. He is leaning on a cricket-bat, with a ball in one hand. The face is, to my eye, such as I could conceive the original to have _been_, when I first remember him a Bachelor of the Arts at Oxford, full, plump, and athletic. In short, as Dean Swift expresses it, “if you should look at him in his boyhood through the magnifying end of the glass, and in his manhood through the diminishing end, it would be impossible to spy any difference.” The contemplation of _this_ portrait has at times produced mixed emotions of admiration, regard, and pity.

“BONAPARTE REVIEWING THE CONSULAR GUARD.”

In the year 1800, M. Masquerier had occasion to go to Paris on family matters. Like a sensible man, who made all his pursuits available to the purposes of his profession, he conceived the happy thought of obtaining permission to make a portrait of Bonaparte, (then First Consul,) and afterwards portraits of his generals the whole of which were concentrated in one grand picture, of the size of life, and exhibited in this country as “Bonaparte Reviewing the Consular Guard.” It appears that Masquerier, through the interest of a friend acquainted with Josephine, got permission to be present at the Tuilleries, where he saw Bonaparte in the _grey great-coat_, which has since been so well-known throughout Europe. Masquerier remarked that Bonaparte’s appearance in this costume was so different from all portraits which he had seen, that he resolved to fix him in his sketch-book in this identical surtout, the French thinking that the portrait of a great man must necessarily be tricked out in finery. He sketched him just as he saw him, and carried him to England; placing him upon a grey horse, his usual charger, and surrounding him with his staff. The picture told in all respects. The Prince Regent (afterwards George IV.) and Tallien, then in London on his return from Egypt, were among the twenty-five or thirty-thousand visitors who went to see it. Tallien left in the exhibition-room the following testimony to the likeness of the First Consul:--

“_J’ai vu le portrait du General Buonaparte fait par M. Masquerier, et je l’ai trouvé tres resemblant._” TALLIEN, _Londres, ce 24 Mars, 1801_.”

There is a print of this picture, which is scarce. The original was afterwards sold, to be taken to America. Masquerier netted about 1000_l._ by this speculation, but the remuneration did not overpay the toil. Such was the reaction, from incessant application and anxiety, that the artist was confined to his room several weeks afterwards.

LAWRENCE’S PORTRAIT OF CURRAN.