1823.

June 22, 1749. David Garrick, of St. Paul, Covent Garden; and Eva Maria Violetti, of St. James’s, Westminster.T. Franklin.C. M’Carthy, Curate and Reg.[380]

June 22, 1749. David Garrick, of St. Paul, Covent Garden; and Eva Maria Violetti, of St. James’s, Westminster.

T. Franklin.C. M’Carthy, Curate and Reg.[380]

In 1822, to the disgrace of the Antwerp picture collectors, notwithstanding their professed zeal for the protection of high works of art, they allowed the most precious gem, their boasted corner-stone, to be carried away from their city. However, to the great honour of Mr. Smith, the picture-dealer, it was secured for England.

This corner-stone, which had been coveted by most of the amateurs in the world, was no less a treasure than the picture known under the appellation of the “Chapeau dePaille,”[381]by Rubens, which had been in the Lunden’s, and then the Steir’s family, from the time it was sold after the painter’s death, to the 29th of July, 1822, the day on which it was brought to auction for the benefit of the last possessor’s family.

When the auctioneer ordered the doors of the case in which it was kept to be thrown open, every person took off his hat, and greeted the picture with loud and repeated cheerings. After the company had, for some time, gratified their eyes, the doors were locked and biddings commenced, the company remaining uncovered till the bidders were silent. It was then knocked down for the sum of thirty-two thousand seven hundred florins, to a foreigner displaying an orange ribbon, hired by the real purchaser, Mr. Smith, who suspected that if an Englishman had offered to bid, he would have brought down a direful opposition. When it was discovered that it was to be conveyed to England, the Antwerpers not only shed tears, but followed it to Mr. Smith’s place of residence, expressing the strongest desire to take their farewell look.Mr. Smith, not willing to risk its safety, gave a seaman five guineas to convey it on shipboard by night, and saw it safely landed on British ground.

Upon its arrival in London, King GeorgeIV.commanded a sight of it; and on the morning of Tuesday, September 3rd, Mr. Smith had it conveyed from his house in Marlborough Street, to Carlton Palace, where it was placed in the King’s dressing-room, the King keeping the key of the case, that only private friends might see it. After the expiration of a fortnight, the picture was returned; and in the month of March, 1823, it was publicly exhibited at Stanley’s rooms. The Right Hon. Sir Robert Peel became its liberal purchaser and protector. This picture is painted on oak, and has been joined at the lower part across the hands, and there is every reason for believing that Rubens painted it in the frame, as the ground was unpainted upon, within the width of the rabbit.

The popular report respecting this picture is, that it was the portrait of Elizabeth Lunden, a young woman to whom Rubens was particularly partial, who died of the small-pox, to the great grief of the painter.

In this year I find the following letter in my album:—

“My dear Sir,—Your desire to know the place of my nativity, the profession for which I was intended, my first appearance on the stage, and in town. This both honours and gratifies me, inasmuch as your request places my name with men of genius and education, the persons of all others I am most ambitious to be found with.“The city of Bristol gave me birth, in 1778.[382]I wasbrought up an artist, which profession I quitted for studies more congenial to my feelings. Immortal Shakspeare wrought the change, and his great contemporaries added fuel to flame. Notwithstanding this mighty stimulus, in the year 1798 I made my first attempt, in the part of young Hob, inHob in the Well,[383]in a town in Radnorshire, the theatre a barn in the environs; the receipts seven shillings; my share sevenpence. I removed from this luxury to the Stafford Company, thence to the York Theatre, where I succeeded my friend Mathews, and in which situation I remained seven years.“October 12th, 1809, I made my début in London, in the Theatre Royal, Lyceum, with the Drury Lane Company. The devouring element had destroyed that magnificent pile Old Drury, which caused the professors to employ that place of refuge. The pieces I selected for the terrific ordeal, wereThe Soldier’s DaughterandFortune’s Frolic;[384]the characters, Timothy Quaint and Robin Roughhead. The public were infinitely more kind than my negative merits deserved; and with gratitude I acknowledge, that up to the present period, their bounty very far exceeds the humble ability of their devoted servant, and your true friend,“Edward Knight.[385]“Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,“Garden Cottage, Covent Garden, ground chambers,“Nov. 15th, 1823.”

“The city of Bristol gave me birth, in 1778.[382]I wasbrought up an artist, which profession I quitted for studies more congenial to my feelings. Immortal Shakspeare wrought the change, and his great contemporaries added fuel to flame. Notwithstanding this mighty stimulus, in the year 1798 I made my first attempt, in the part of young Hob, inHob in the Well,[383]in a town in Radnorshire, the theatre a barn in the environs; the receipts seven shillings; my share sevenpence. I removed from this luxury to the Stafford Company, thence to the York Theatre, where I succeeded my friend Mathews, and in which situation I remained seven years.

“October 12th, 1809, I made my début in London, in the Theatre Royal, Lyceum, with the Drury Lane Company. The devouring element had destroyed that magnificent pile Old Drury, which caused the professors to employ that place of refuge. The pieces I selected for the terrific ordeal, wereThe Soldier’s DaughterandFortune’s Frolic;[384]the characters, Timothy Quaint and Robin Roughhead. The public were infinitely more kind than my negative merits deserved; and with gratitude I acknowledge, that up to the present period, their bounty very far exceeds the humble ability of their devoted servant, and your true friend,

“Edward Knight.[385]

“Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,

“Garden Cottage, Covent Garden, ground chambers,

“Nov. 15th, 1823.”

The following notice is written in my album this year, by Major Cartwright:—

“John Cartwright, born at Marnham, near Tuxford, in the county of Nottingham, on the 17th of September, 1740, old style, corresponding with the 28th, new style. In the year 1758 he entered the naval service, under the command of Lord Howe; was promoted to a lieutenancy in September, 1762, and continued on active service until the spring of 1771. Then retiring to recruit his health, he remained at Marnham till invited by his old Commander-in-chief, in the year 1775 or 1776; but not approving of the war with America, he declined accepting the proffered commission. About the same time he became Major of the regiment of Nottinghamshire Militia, then for the first time raised in that county, in which he served seventeen years.

“When GeorgeIII.arrived at the year of the Jubilee, a naval promotion of twenty Lieutenants to the rank of Commanders, and the name of J. C. standing the twentieth on the list, he was commissioned as a Commander accordingly.

“In the year 1802 he publishedThe Trident, a work in quarto, having for its object to promote that elevation of character which can alone preserve the vital spirit ofa navy, as well as to furnish an inexhaustible patronage of the arts.

“John Cartwright, residing in Burton Crescent,26th Jan., 1824.”

The Major died on the 23rd of September this year, at his house in Burton Crescent, at the venerable age of eighty-four.[386]

An author, in whose real character I was for many years deceived, frequently importuned me to caricature literary females. But this malicious advice, being repugnant to my feelings, I never could listen to, nor is it my intention even to make public a memory-sketch now in my possession of the adviser, when he was stooping over and pretending to kiss the putrid corpse of him a portion of whose vast property he is in possession of, and, I was going to say, happily enjoys.[387]Profoundly learned as the person abovealluded to considers himself to be, the reader will, after perusing the following lines, written purposely for my album, be convinced that jealousy towards the fair sex must be that man’s master-passion.

IMPROMPTU LINES BY MISS BENGER, ON THE PAUCITY OF INFORMATION RESPECTING THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF SHAKSPEARE.

Lives there, redeemed from dull oblivion’s waste,One cherished line thatShakspeare’shand has traced?Vain search! though glory crowns the poet’s bust,His story sleeps with his unconscious dust.Born—wedded—buried! Such the common lot,And such was his. What more? almost a blot!Even on his laurelled head with doubt we gaze;Andfancybest his lineaments portrays.Thus like an Indian deity enshrined,In mystery is his image; whilst the mindTo us bequeathed, belongs to all mankind.Yet here he lived; his manly high careerOf strange vicissitude, was measured here.Not his the envied privilege to hailThe Eternal City! or in Tempe’s valeBreathe inspiration with luxurious sighs,And dream of Heaven beneath unclouded skies.His sphere was bounded, and we almost traceHis daily haunts, where he was wont to chaseUnwelcome cares, or visions fair recall;His breath still lingers on the cloistral wall,With gloom congenial to his spirit fraught;And thou, O Thames, his lonely sighs hast caught.When one, the rhyming Charon of his day,Who tugged the oar, yet conned a merry lay,Full oft unconscious of the freight he bore,Transferred the musing bard from shore to shore.Too carelessTaylor!hadst thou well divinedThe marvellous man to thy frail skiff consigned,Thou shouldst have craved one tributary line,To blend his glorious destiny with thine!Nor vain the prayer!—who generous homage paysTo genius, wins the second meed of praise.[388]

Lives there, redeemed from dull oblivion’s waste,

One cherished line thatShakspeare’shand has traced?

Vain search! though glory crowns the poet’s bust,

His story sleeps with his unconscious dust.

Born—wedded—buried! Such the common lot,

And such was his. What more? almost a blot!

Even on his laurelled head with doubt we gaze;

Andfancybest his lineaments portrays.

Thus like an Indian deity enshrined,

In mystery is his image; whilst the mind

To us bequeathed, belongs to all mankind.

Yet here he lived; his manly high career

Of strange vicissitude, was measured here.

Not his the envied privilege to hail

The Eternal City! or in Tempe’s vale

Breathe inspiration with luxurious sighs,

And dream of Heaven beneath unclouded skies.

His sphere was bounded, and we almost trace

His daily haunts, where he was wont to chase

Unwelcome cares, or visions fair recall;

His breath still lingers on the cloistral wall,

With gloom congenial to his spirit fraught;

And thou, O Thames, his lonely sighs hast caught.

When one, the rhyming Charon of his day,

Who tugged the oar, yet conned a merry lay,

Full oft unconscious of the freight he bore,

Transferred the musing bard from shore to shore.

Too carelessTaylor!hadst thou well divined

The marvellous man to thy frail skiff consigned,

Thou shouldst have craved one tributary line,

To blend his glorious destiny with thine!

Nor vain the prayer!—who generous homage pays

To genius, wins the second meed of praise.[388]

The much-famed Cup, carved from Shakspeare’s Mulberry-tree, lined with, and standing on a base of silver, with a cover surmounted by a branch of mulberry leaves and fruit, also of silver-gilt, which was presented to Mr. Garrick on the occasion of the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon, was sold by Mr. Christie on May the 5th, 1825,[389]who addressed the assembly nearly in the following words, for the recollection of which I am obliged to the memory of my worthy friend, Henry Smedley, Esq.:[390]—

“Though this is neither the age nor the country in which relics are made the objects of devotion, yet that which I am now to submit to you must recall to your recollection the Stratford Jubilee, when the pilgrims to the shrine of Avon were actuated by a zeal as fervent ascould have been exhibited either at Loretto or Compostella. Let me then entreat a liberal bidding, when I invoke you by the united names of Shakspeare and of Garrick. I perceive that this little Cup is now submitted to eyes well accustomed to appreciate the most exquisite treasures of ancient arts; and that the rough and natural bark of the mulberry-tree is regarded with as much veneration as the choicest carving of Cellini or Fiamingo.”

After one hundred guineas had been bid, Mr. Christie added, “I was wishing that I had some of Falstaff’s sack here, with which I might fill the Cup, and pledge this company, so as to invigorate their biddings; but I think I may say now that at least there is no want of spirit among them.”

The termbusby, now sometimes used when a large bushy wig is spoken of, most probably originated from the wig denominated a buzz, frizzled and bushy. At all events, we are not satisfied that the term busby could have arisen, as many persons believe, from Dr. Busby, Master of Westminster School, as all his portraits either represent him with a close cap, or with a cap and hat.[391]

During a most minute investigation of a regular series of English portraits, which I was led into by a friend, in order, if possible, to clear up this point, I was induced tolook for the origin of wigs in England, and their various sorts and successions, by commencing at the time of William the Conqueror. In this search I was not able to find any representation of wigs earlier than those worn by King CharlesII.[392]upon his Restoration, in proof of which I refer the reader to Faithorne’s numerous portraits of that monarch, and he will find that that sort of wig continued to be worn, with very little deviation, by succeeding kings till GeorgeII.’s time, with whom it ended. The Merry Monarch, it has been stated, followed the fashion of wearing a wig from LouisXIV.,[393]with whom that custom commencedwith the kings of France. The Duke of Burgundy wore a wig.

King GeorgeIII.commenced his reign with wearing his own hair dressed and powdered in the style of Woollett’s beautiful engraving of his Majesty,[394]after a picture painted by Ramsey. King GeorgeIII.wore a wig, in the latter part of his reign, made from one of those worn by Mr. Duvall, one of the masons of the Board of Works, with which shape his Majesty was much pleased.

The line in Pope,

“Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone,”

alludes to the wig carved on the monument of Sir Cloudesley Shovel in Westminster Abbey.[395]

This sort of wig, which received the appellation of “A Brown George,” was also worn by several persons of rank, particularly the late Earl of Cremorne.[396]Townsend,a Bow-street officer, condescendingly noticed by the King, thought proper to wear a wig of this kind, in which he appeared at the morning service in Westminster Abbey.

It is worthy of observation, that in the reign of King CharlesII.the Lord Mayors of London followed his Majesty’s example, by wearing wigs precisely of the same make, and equal to those worn by the Royal Family, the highest courtiers, and persons of the first eminence in official capacities. Nay indeed, Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey, a wood and coal-monger, wore wigs of this shape, perhaps because he was a Justice of the Peace within the King’s Court. The same kind of wig, equally deep, but with curls rather looser and more tastefully flowing, was also worn by the following high literary characters in the reigns of CharlesII., JamesII., WilliamIII., and Queen Anne:—Waller, Dryden, Addison, Steele, Congreve, Vanbrugh, Butler, Rowe, Prior, Wycherley, etc.[397]Of these, perhaps the two last-mentioned were the most foppish in their wigs, particularly Wycherley, from whom the sets of large and beautifully engraven combs of the finest tortoise-shell are named. With these combs (which were carried in cases in their pockets) the wearers of wigs adjusted their curls, ruffled and entangled by the wind. These combs are held as curiosities by many of our old families. The last I saw was in the possession of the friendly Dr. Meyrick, author ofThe History of Armour. I have somewhere read that Wycherley, who was esteemed one of the handsomest men of his day, was frequently seen standing in the pit of the theatre combing and adjusting the curls of his wig,whilst in lolling conversation with the first ladies of fashion in the boxes.[398]Most of Sir Godfrey Kneller’s portraits were painted in this flowing wig, particularly that celebrated series entitled Queen Anne’s Admirals.[399]These pictures were lately moved by command of King GeorgeIV.from Hampton Court Palace to the Nautical Gallery in Greenwich Hospital, where they are placed to the highest advantage among numerous other portraits of England’s naval victors.

The actors at this time wore immense wigs, particularly Bullock, Penkethman, etc.; Cibber’s was in moderation. It must here be observed, that I now allude to their private wigs; their state wigs were, as they are now, purposely caricatured to please the galleries.[400]I believe that the first wig worn by an English divine was that of John Wallis,[401]engraved by Burghers, and published at Oxford in the year 1699; it was profusely curled, but not so deep over the shoulders as those of statesmen.

There were many singular, and, indeed, learned characters whose wigs were peculiarly shaped, such, for instance, as that of Bubb Doddington, Lord Chesterfield, and the Duke of Newcastle. MacArdell’s print of Lord Anson, after a picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, was, I have every reason to think, the first of the shape erroneously called the Busby. This sort, Dr. Samuel Johnson, Armstrong, Hunter, the Rev. George Whitfield, Lord Monboddo, etc., wore in their latter years.

DR. OLIVER GOLDSMITH“The fellow took me for a tailor.”

DR. OLIVER GOLDSMITH

“The fellow took me for a tailor.”

The earliest engraved portraits of Dr. Johnson exhibit a wig with five rows of curls, commonly called “a story wig.”[402]Among the old dandies of this description of wig we may class Mr. Saunders Welch, Mr. Nollekens’ father-in-law—he had nine storeys. So was that worn by Mr. Nathaniel Hillier,[403]an extensive print-collector, as is representedin an engraved portrait of that gentleman. Dr. Goldsmith’s wig was small and remarkably slovenly, as may be seen by Bretherton’s etching. Sir Joshua’s portrait of him is without a wig. Mr. Garrick’s wigs (I mean his private ones) were three in number,—the first is engraved by Wood, published in the year 1745; the second is by Sherwin, engraved for Tom Davies; the last is from a private plate by Mrs. Solly, after a drawing by Dance. I will leave off here with the wig, and give a few instances of the tails. These perhaps originated with the Chinese, but the first specimen of a tail, which I have hitherto been able to procure, to which a date can be given, is in Sherwin’s print of Frederick, King of Prussia.[404]

The Londoners, but more particularly the inhabitants of Westminster, who had been for years accustomed to recreate within the chequered shade of Millbank’s willows, have been by degrees deprived of that pleasure, as there are now very few trees remaining, and those so scanty of foliage, by being nearly stript of their bark, that thepublic are no longer induced to tread their once sweetly variegated banks.[405]

Here, on many a summer’s evening, Gainsborough, accompanied by his friend Collins, amused himself by sketching docks and nettles, which afforded the Wynants and Cuyp-like effects to the foregrounds of his rich and glowing landscapes. Collins resided in Tothill Fields, and was the modeller of rustic subjects for tablets of chimneypieces in vogue about seventy years back. Most of them were taken from Æsop’s Fables, and are here and there to be met with in houses that have been suffered to remain in their original state. I recollect one, that of the “Bear and Bee-hives,” in the back drawing-room of the house formerly the mansion of the Duke of Ancaster on the western side of Lincoln’s Inn Fields.[406]

Millbank, which originally extended with its pollarded willows from Belgrave House[407]to the White Lead Mills at the corner of the lane leading to “Jenny’s Whim,” afforded similar subjects to those selected by four of the old rural painters; for instance, the boat-builders’ sheds on the bank, with their men at work on the shore, might have been chosen by Everdingen;[408]the wooden steps from the bank, the floating timber, and old men in their boats, with the Vauxhall and Battersea windmills, by Van Goyen;[409]the various colours of the tiles of the cart-sheds, entwined by the autumnal tinged vines, backed with the most prolific orchards, with the women gathering the garden produce for the ensuing day’s market, would have pleased Ruysdael;[410]and the basket-maker’s overhanging smoking hut, with a woman in her white cap and sunburnt petticoat, dipping her pail for water, might have been represented by the pencil of Dekker.[411]It was within one of the Neat House Gardens[412]near this bank that Garnerin’s kittendescended from the balloon which ascended from Vauxhall Gardens in the year 1802.[413]This descent is thus handed down in a song attributed to George Colman the younger, entitled

Puss in a Parachute.Poor puss in a grand parachuteWas sent to sail down through the air,Plump’d into a garden of fruit,And played up old gooseberry there.The gardener, transpiring with fear,Stared just like a hundred stuck hogs;And swore, though the sky was quite clear,’Twas beginning to rain cats and dogs.Mounseer, who don’t value his life,In the Thames would have just dipped his vings,If it vasn’t for vetting his vife,For vimen are timbersome things:So at Hampstead he landed her dry;And after this dangerous sarvice,He took a French leave of the sky,And vent back to Vauxhall in a Jarvis.

Puss in a Parachute.

Poor puss in a grand parachuteWas sent to sail down through the air,Plump’d into a garden of fruit,And played up old gooseberry there.The gardener, transpiring with fear,Stared just like a hundred stuck hogs;And swore, though the sky was quite clear,’Twas beginning to rain cats and dogs.

Poor puss in a grand parachute

Was sent to sail down through the air,

Plump’d into a garden of fruit,

And played up old gooseberry there.

The gardener, transpiring with fear,

Stared just like a hundred stuck hogs;

And swore, though the sky was quite clear,

’Twas beginning to rain cats and dogs.

Mounseer, who don’t value his life,In the Thames would have just dipped his vings,If it vasn’t for vetting his vife,For vimen are timbersome things:So at Hampstead he landed her dry;And after this dangerous sarvice,He took a French leave of the sky,And vent back to Vauxhall in a Jarvis.

Mounseer, who don’t value his life,

In the Thames would have just dipped his vings,

If it vasn’t for vetting his vife,

For vimen are timbersome things:

So at Hampstead he landed her dry;

And after this dangerous sarvice,

He took a French leave of the sky,

And vent back to Vauxhall in a Jarvis.

Most willingly would I have resigned all the pleasures I ever enjoyed, save that of my wedding-day, to have joined the throng of enthusiastics in art, who assembled at Nuremberg this year, to do homage to the memory of that morning star in art, Albert Dürer. Of the many descriptions of the proceedings upon that glorious occasion, none gave me higher delight than that of Mr. L. Schutze,[414]of Carlsruhe, an artist of very considerable abilities, who, upon my requesting him to favour me with an account, goodnaturedly complied with my wishes, but with all the diffidence of one who had not long written in the English language.

“At the festival which took place in Nuremberg, 1828, on the 6th and 7th of April, the month on which Albert Dürer died three hundred years before, some pupils of Cornelius in Munich, intended to paint some transparent sceneries, the most interesting ones, taken from his life, and to exhibit them at the Festival. For this purpose they gave notice to the magistrates and to the artists that they would arrive on the 28th of March. The magistrates and artists were quite satisfied with this offer, and resolved to welcome them some miles from Nuremberg.Two gentlemen of consideration offered their coaches, with four horses, and the most part of the artists took post-coaches, all with four horses. One gentleman, Mr. Campe,[415]a very clever man, and member of the Artists’ Society, who led the procession, which consisted of eight coaches with about thirty artists, took a barrel with wine in his coach, and also a very old and interesting pitcher, which was presented to A. Dürer by one of his particular friends. About eight miles from Nuremberg, in Reichersdorf, we stopped at the inn, intending to wait for the artists from Munich. Mr. Campe ordered a good breakfast, and put up his barrel and golden pitcher. Scarcely was all prepared, and the breakfast ready, when we saw the artists arrive (we called them ‘Cornelians,’ after the name of their master[416]), with a flag and green branches in their caps, and merry singing. A loudvivatwas the first expression of welcome; they were quite astonished to find there so great a company. We now invited them to come in, and to take refreshments after their fatigues. The first proceeding was now to fill the pitcher with wine, and to drink their health. There were about thirty-six artists from Munich. After having made some speeches, having taken the breakfast, and emptied the barrel, we, all quite refreshed and pleased, took place in our chair-waggons, into which we invited also the Cornelians, and rode back to Nuremberg.“At the old castle we all descended from our waggons, and saw the old building, which is so very interesting inthe history of Germany. Then we went down to the house of Albert Dürer, where all the strangers who arrived entered their names in a book. Several gentlemen of consideration had offered to give lodging to some of the strange artists, which was accepted with great pleasure by them. Many others of them had free lodging in the inns. The magistrates paid all their necessaries during their stay. Every day artists and strangers arrived, and the house of Albert Dürer was the place of meeting. The Cornelians began to paint their transparencies: they had drawn the sketches for them already in Munich. There were seven pictures; they represented, firstly, Albert Dürer coming in receiving instructions from Wohlgemuth; secondly, his marriage ceremony; thirdly, the Banquet in Utrecht; fourthly, the Goddess of Art crowns Albert Dürer and Raphael; fifthly, Dürer on board ship; sixthly, the death of Dürer’s mother; seventhly, Dürer’s death. We artists in Nuremberg painted Dürer’s figure, and several allegories and writings, about sixty feet high altogether, also transparencies, which we intended to exhibit on the road, opposite his house.“Cornelius and many of the first artists from Munich, and from other parts of Germany, arrived, and Dürer’s house was always crowded: certainly a very interesting time to make acquaintance with artists from several parts of the continent, and also to see again old friends. The 6th of April, in the morning at six o’clock, we went altogether to the grave of Albert Dürer. It was very bad weather, all the night, much snow was falling, and a very disagreeable wind blew. When we arrived at the grave, and the musicians, who were with us, began to play, and we began to sing, the sun at once appeared and looked friendly down upon us. We sang three songs with accompanimentsof instruments; and then a speech was made, after which we went home. Scarcely were we arrived there, when it again began to snow, and it was very disagreeable all the day.“After noon, at half past six o’clock, an Oratorium composed by Schneider,[417]took place in the Town-house. Mr. Schneider came himself from Dessau, two hundred and fifty miles from Nuremberg, to direct it. In the Town-house may still be seen a triumphal procession, painted on the wall by Albert Dürer. On one side the musicians were placed, and opposite to them the seven transparencies were exhibited; they were beautifully finished and pleased everybody.“After the oratorium a splendid supper took place, where all the artists took part, and also several gentlemen of consideration. Mr. Campe distributed to those present some printed poems and books, containing interesting tales or descriptions of clever men, contemporaries of Albert Dürer. Then there were music and dancing.“On the 7th, at nine in the morning, there was a meeting in the Town-house; all the artists were dressed in black, and had flat hats and swords, except the strangers. The magistrates distributed medals with Dürer’s portrait. At half past eleven o’clock the procession began:—the magistrates, the two burgomasters, the clergymen, many officers, and all the artists, about three hundred persons together. The military with music made a line in the streets through which the procession passed. The King was expected, but did not come. In the Milk-market (now called Albert Dürer’s Place) the procession commenced;some speeches were made, then the foundation-stone of a monument to Albert Dürer was laid, and trumpets and cymbals resounded. Then all was finished, and all went home. At two o’clock a brilliant dinner took place in the Court of Bavaria, accompanied by music; and several poems and songs were distributed, and the poor were not forgotten,—a rich collection being made for them. In the theatre, the play calledAlbert Dürerwas performed; and then our great transparency was illuminated, and on the house where Albert Dürer was born, and likewise where he had lived during the latter part of his life, several inscriptions were illuminated. A procession with flambeaux and fireworks ended the festival-day. Some of the richest inhabitants arranged dinners and suppers, and other rejoicings, to honour the artists. The magistrates ordered also a very brilliant supper on the last evening, before the artists parted, and bade them farewell.“L. Schutze.”

“At the old castle we all descended from our waggons, and saw the old building, which is so very interesting inthe history of Germany. Then we went down to the house of Albert Dürer, where all the strangers who arrived entered their names in a book. Several gentlemen of consideration had offered to give lodging to some of the strange artists, which was accepted with great pleasure by them. Many others of them had free lodging in the inns. The magistrates paid all their necessaries during their stay. Every day artists and strangers arrived, and the house of Albert Dürer was the place of meeting. The Cornelians began to paint their transparencies: they had drawn the sketches for them already in Munich. There were seven pictures; they represented, firstly, Albert Dürer coming in receiving instructions from Wohlgemuth; secondly, his marriage ceremony; thirdly, the Banquet in Utrecht; fourthly, the Goddess of Art crowns Albert Dürer and Raphael; fifthly, Dürer on board ship; sixthly, the death of Dürer’s mother; seventhly, Dürer’s death. We artists in Nuremberg painted Dürer’s figure, and several allegories and writings, about sixty feet high altogether, also transparencies, which we intended to exhibit on the road, opposite his house.

“Cornelius and many of the first artists from Munich, and from other parts of Germany, arrived, and Dürer’s house was always crowded: certainly a very interesting time to make acquaintance with artists from several parts of the continent, and also to see again old friends. The 6th of April, in the morning at six o’clock, we went altogether to the grave of Albert Dürer. It was very bad weather, all the night, much snow was falling, and a very disagreeable wind blew. When we arrived at the grave, and the musicians, who were with us, began to play, and we began to sing, the sun at once appeared and looked friendly down upon us. We sang three songs with accompanimentsof instruments; and then a speech was made, after which we went home. Scarcely were we arrived there, when it again began to snow, and it was very disagreeable all the day.

“After noon, at half past six o’clock, an Oratorium composed by Schneider,[417]took place in the Town-house. Mr. Schneider came himself from Dessau, two hundred and fifty miles from Nuremberg, to direct it. In the Town-house may still be seen a triumphal procession, painted on the wall by Albert Dürer. On one side the musicians were placed, and opposite to them the seven transparencies were exhibited; they were beautifully finished and pleased everybody.

“After the oratorium a splendid supper took place, where all the artists took part, and also several gentlemen of consideration. Mr. Campe distributed to those present some printed poems and books, containing interesting tales or descriptions of clever men, contemporaries of Albert Dürer. Then there were music and dancing.

“On the 7th, at nine in the morning, there was a meeting in the Town-house; all the artists were dressed in black, and had flat hats and swords, except the strangers. The magistrates distributed medals with Dürer’s portrait. At half past eleven o’clock the procession began:—the magistrates, the two burgomasters, the clergymen, many officers, and all the artists, about three hundred persons together. The military with music made a line in the streets through which the procession passed. The King was expected, but did not come. In the Milk-market (now called Albert Dürer’s Place) the procession commenced;some speeches were made, then the foundation-stone of a monument to Albert Dürer was laid, and trumpets and cymbals resounded. Then all was finished, and all went home. At two o’clock a brilliant dinner took place in the Court of Bavaria, accompanied by music; and several poems and songs were distributed, and the poor were not forgotten,—a rich collection being made for them. In the theatre, the play calledAlbert Dürerwas performed; and then our great transparency was illuminated, and on the house where Albert Dürer was born, and likewise where he had lived during the latter part of his life, several inscriptions were illuminated. A procession with flambeaux and fireworks ended the festival-day. Some of the richest inhabitants arranged dinners and suppers, and other rejoicings, to honour the artists. The magistrates ordered also a very brilliant supper on the last evening, before the artists parted, and bade them farewell.

“L. Schutze.”

THE WIG IN ENGLANDA MACARONI READY FOR THE PANTHEON

THE WIG IN ENGLAND

A MACARONI READY FOR THE PANTHEON

For the following dates I am indebted to Albert Dürer’s Diary, contained in theForeign Quarterly Reviewfor January 1833, a work replete with most interesting information. Albert Dürer was born in 1471; his father taught him the goldsmith’s craft. In 1486 he was bound for three years to Michael Wohlgemuth, an engraver on wood. He was married to Agnes, anun-lamb-likedaughter of Hans Frey. He died on the 6th of April, 1528, of a decline. His wife, an avaricious shrew, “gnawed him to his very heart,—he was dried up to a faggot.”[418]Little didAlbert Dürer think, particularly from the period of his unhappy marriage to the hour of his dissolution, when he was only fifty-seven years of age, that such honours would be paid to his memory.

The following letter is perhaps worth insertion here:—

“Queen Street, Mayfair,“Dec. 22, 1828.“My dear Sir,—Shortly after my return from Rome, in 1798, I espied a bust in Rosso Antico, lying under a counter at a broker’s shop, in Great Portland Street. I recognised its antiquity; it wasa Faun, large as life, in the best style of art. I bought it for the trifling sum of £1. I had it in my study many months. During this period, I often assisted Nollekens in the architectural department of his monuments, receiving no thanks; but an invitation one day, as we talked Italian together. On accidentally mentioning my antique Faun, he came to see it, and was so struck with its beauty, that he would never rest till he got it out of my hands. He succeeded, by offering me some models of his own, and ten pounds. Wishing to oblige him, I let him have the bust, and he sent me two miserable models not much higherthan my thumb, of a Bacchus and Ariadne, since broken to pieces.“This bust was in the collection at his sale, and it was knocked down by Christie to the Duke of Newcastle for a hundred and sixty pounds.“With great respect, ever yours truly,“Charles Heathcote Tatham.”[419]

“Queen Street, Mayfair,

“Dec. 22, 1828.

“My dear Sir,—Shortly after my return from Rome, in 1798, I espied a bust in Rosso Antico, lying under a counter at a broker’s shop, in Great Portland Street. I recognised its antiquity; it wasa Faun, large as life, in the best style of art. I bought it for the trifling sum of £1. I had it in my study many months. During this period, I often assisted Nollekens in the architectural department of his monuments, receiving no thanks; but an invitation one day, as we talked Italian together. On accidentally mentioning my antique Faun, he came to see it, and was so struck with its beauty, that he would never rest till he got it out of my hands. He succeeded, by offering me some models of his own, and ten pounds. Wishing to oblige him, I let him have the bust, and he sent me two miserable models not much higherthan my thumb, of a Bacchus and Ariadne, since broken to pieces.

“This bust was in the collection at his sale, and it was knocked down by Christie to the Duke of Newcastle for a hundred and sixty pounds.

“With great respect, ever yours truly,

“Charles Heathcote Tatham.”[419]

The following letter is curious:—

“In the winter of 1815, making a tour of the Netherlands, I was in Bruges when the well-known statue, or rather group, of the ‘Virgin and Child,’ by Michael Angelo Buonarotti, which had been carried from the church of Notre Dame to Paris, was restored, in a packing-case, to that church. On this occasion a procession of the priests and officers of the church, and of some of the municipal officers, took place; and a Mass was celebrated. About a month afterwards, I was again in Bruges, and saw this fine work of art replaced in its former situation, on the altar of one of the small chapels. It is, indeed, a wonderful work.“I was about the same period in Antwerp, and was present when the pictures which had been taken to Paris, arrived in carriages, and were escorted into the city by anEnglish regiment, then in garrison there (either the 15th or 25th of infantry), preceded by the band of that regiment playing ‘God save the King,’ and accompanied by the members of the Academy of Antwerp, and the magistracy of the city. I own I felt all the pride of an Englishman at seeing these works of art, which British valour had regained, thus restored to the places from whence they had been pillaged.“Stephen Porter.[420]“Temple,Feb. 5, 1828.”

“I was about the same period in Antwerp, and was present when the pictures which had been taken to Paris, arrived in carriages, and were escorted into the city by anEnglish regiment, then in garrison there (either the 15th or 25th of infantry), preceded by the band of that regiment playing ‘God save the King,’ and accompanied by the members of the Academy of Antwerp, and the magistracy of the city. I own I felt all the pride of an Englishman at seeing these works of art, which British valour had regained, thus restored to the places from whence they had been pillaged.

“Stephen Porter.[420]

“Temple,Feb. 5, 1828.”

In July, I went to Hungerford Stairs to gain what information I could respecting “Copper Holmes.” A waterman, whose face declared he had seen a few liberal days, accosted me with the usual question, “Oars, sculler?” I shook my head; but, upon a nearer approach, asked him the following question, “How long has Copper been dead?” “There sits his widow at that window mending her stockings,” said he; “we’ll go and put it to her.”

On approaching her the waterman said, “This gentleman wants to know how long Copper has been dead?” “How do you do?” said I, “your husband has often in my early days rowed me to Pepper Alley.” “He died,” said the woman (who retained enough in her care-worn features to induce me to believe she had been pretty), sticking her needle on her cap, “he died, poor fellow, on the 3rd of October, 1821, and a better man never trod shoe-leather. He was downright and honest, and what he said he would do, he did. I had been his wife two-and-twenty years; but he married me after he left theArk. His first wifelived in theArkwith her children.” “What vessel had theArkbeen?” “She had been a Westcountryman, and it cost him altogether (with her fittings-up with sheets of copper) one hundred and fifty pounds, and that gave him the name of ‘Copper Holmes.’ His Christian name was Thomas. Ay, Sir, his lawsuit with the City crippled him:[421]but I will say this for him, his Majesty had not a better subject than poor Copper.” While she uttered this declaration, both her eyes, which were seriously directed to her nose, were moistened with the tears of affectionate memory, which induced me to turn to my new acquaintance the waterman, and ask where he was buried? “In the Waterman’s churchyard, Sir, under the pump-pavement on the south side of St. Martin’s church.[422]Lord bless you! don’t you know the Waterman’s burying-ground? I could take you to the spot where fifty of us have been buried.” “What was his age?” “Sixty-six when he died.”

After parting with the widow, I requested the master of the ceremonies to allow his man to ferry me over to the King’s Head Stairs, Lambeth Marsh. “He shall,” said Charles Price; “and I’ll go with you, too.” The waggish, though youthful countenance of the lad employed to bring in our boat, revived the pleasure Mathews had affordedme in his description of Joe Hatch,[423]and induced me to inquire after the waterman whose look, voice, and manner he had borrowed for that inimitable representation. “George Heath, you mean, Sir,” answered the boy; “Of Strand Lane,” observed Price; “Heath is his real name. Lord bless ye, he’s a good-hearted fellow! Why, I have often known him put his hand in his pocket and relieve a fellow-creature in distress.”

This mention of Hatch induced me to question Price as to the Halfpenny Hatch,[424]where Astley had first rode,[425]before he took the ground at the foot of Westminster Bridge, on which the present Amphitheatre stands. Before Price could answer, as we had made the shore, “You will find the Halfpenny Hatch (for it still remains, though in a very ramshackled state) at the back of St. John’s Church, Waterloo Road, at the end of Neptune Place,” I was told upon my landing by a little chubby, shining, red-faced woman, in what was formerly called amob-cap. Thither I went, and to my great surprise found the Halfpenny Hatch in a dell, by reason of the earth being raised for the pavement of the adjacent streets.[426]Field was the name of the person who occupied the house; and, only a few years ago, money was received for the accommodation of the public who chose to go through the hatch. It was built subsequent to the year 1771, by Curtis, the famous botanist,[427]whose name itstill retains; but the original Hatch-house, Mrs. Field informed me, was still standing at the back of the present one.

The ground belonging to the Halfpenny Hatch was freehold, of about seven acres, and sold by the Curtis family to Messrs. Basing, Atkins, and Field, for the sum of £3500. They disposed of it in about six months afterwards to Mr. Roupell, the present owner, for the sum of £8000.[428]Being determined to take a sketch of the remains of this vine-mantled Halfpenny Hatch, I took water at Strand Lane Stairs[429]on the following evening, where I found George Heath busily engaged in his boat. Upon seeing a poor chimney-sweeper who descended the steps with me, he stood up and cried out, “I tell you what,Sir Cloudesley Shovel, although you are a miller, depend upon it, I’ll dust your jacket for the injury you have done my vessel.” A ferryman observed, “His wife was gone to take a walk up Highgate Hill.” “A strainer,” observed George Heath. During the time occupied in sketching, William Field, who lives in the Hatch, pointed out part of the gate which had received a bullet, supposed to have been aimed by some scoundrel at the elder Mr. Curtis, who providentially escaped, though the ball, which came from a considerable distance, passed only a few inches above his head.

On the 25th of July, 1829, being on my way to the great Sanctuary, my pleasure was inconceivable upon observing that the intended repairs of Whitehall Chapel had commenced. The scaffolding was erected before its street-front, and the masons had begun their restorations at the south corner, strictly according with the fast decaying original.[430]“Well,” said I to my respected friend, Mr. Henry Smedley, whose house I had entered just as the chimes of the venerable Abbey and St. Margaret’s had agreed to complete their quarters for nine, “I am delighted to find that Inigo’s beautiful front of Whitehall is in so fair a way of recovery.”[431]

Bonington’s drawings, held at a respectful distance from thebutter-dish, were the next topic of conversation.[432]“I agree with you,” observed my friend, “they are invaluable; even his slightest pencil-touches are treasures. I have shown you the studies from the figures which surround Lord Norris’s monument in the Abbey; have they not all the spirit of Vandyke?[433]Ay, that drawing of the old buildings seems to be your favourite; what a snug effect, and how sweetly it is coloured!—there never was a sale of modern art so well attended.”

After taking boat at the Horse Ferry for Vauxhall,—for the reader must be informed that Mr. Smedley and myself had an engagement to pass the day with Mr. William Esdaile, on Clapham Common,[434]—I asked the watermansome questions as to “Copper Holmes.” He could not speak correctly as to the time of his death, but said that he had been much reduced by the lawsuit he had with the City about his barge. “Yes, that I know,” said I; “and it certainly was a nuisance on the banks of the Thames, and also an encroachment upon the City’s rights and privileges.”

On arriving at Mr. Esdaile’s gate, Mr. Smedley remarked that this was one of the few commons near London which had not been enclosed.[435]The house had one of those plain fronts which indicated little, but upon ascending the steps I was struck with a similar sensation to those of the previous season, when first I entered this hospitable mansion. If I were to suffer myself to utter anything like an ungrateful remark, it would be that the visitor, immediately he enters the hall, is presented with too much at once, for he knows not which to admire first, the choice display ofpictures which decorate the hall, or the equally artful and delightful manner in which the park-like grounds so luxuriantly burst upon his sight. Mr. Esdaile entered the library during our admiration of its taste of design and truly pleasing effect.

The walls are painted with a subdued red, a colour considered by most artists best calculated to relieve pictures, particularly those with broad gold frames. The first picture which attracted our notice was the upper one of two upon the easel nearest the window. The subject is a Virgin and Child, attributed to Albert Dürer, though I must own the style is so elegantly sweet, with so little of the German manner, that I should have considered it the work of a high Italian master. The upper one of the two pictures on the correspondent easel near the bookcase, is from the exquisite pencil of Adrian Ostade; it was the property of Monsieur de Calonne,[436]at whose auction Mr. Esdaile purchased it when he became a collector of pictures.

It would be highly presumptuous in me to attempt to describe the pictures from so cursory a view. Suffice it to say, they are chiefly of the first class; and I cannot charge the possessor with an indifferent specimen. Wilson andGainsborough were honoured with two of the best places in this room, which commands a most beautiful view of the grounds. In passing to the best staircase, our eyes were attracted by the works of Rubens, Ruysdael, Salvator Rosa, etc. I was highly gratified with the standing of the colours of one of the rich landscapes from the easel of my old and worthy friend, George Arnald, A.R.A. This picture was originally purchased by my revered patron, Richard Wyatt, of Milton Place, Egham, at whose sale Mr. Esdaile bought it. Two sumptuously rich and large dishes of Oriental china, with their stands, occupy the corners of the staircase, which leads to several chambers; the walls of the left-hand one of which are adorned with drawings, framed and glazed, by Cipriani and Bartolozzi; but more particularly with several architectural ruins by Clerisseau, in his finest manner. On the north side of this room stands a magnificent japan glazed case, which contains specimens of the Raphael ware and Oriental porcelain, with two richly adorned alcoves, with figures of Gibbon the historian, and his niece, manufactured at Dresden.

In Mr. Esdaile’s bedroom are other specimens of curious porcelain, of egg-shell plates, cups and covers of the dragon with five claws, and two exquisite black and mother-o’-pearl flower-pots, from the collection of the Duchess-Dowager of Portland. On the top of a curiously wrought cabinet, in the drawing-room below stairs, stand three dark rich blue vases of Sèvres, and two vases of deep blue, embossed with gold leaves, from the Chelsea manufactory. These articles, with a curious figure of Harlequin set in precious stones, the body of which is formed of an immense pearl, were purchased by Mr. Esdaile at the sale of her late gracious Majesty Queen Charlotte. The lower parts of the japan case in the upper room are filled with drawings;so are two other cases which stand on the western side of the room, made purposely for their reception.

The first drawings of our repast this day (for it would take twenty to see the whole) were those by the inimitable hand of Rembrandt, many of which were remarkably fine, one particularly so, of a man seated on a stile near some trees, which appear to have been miserably affected by a recent storm. This drawing is slight, and similar in manner to the artist’s etching, called by some collectors the “Mustard Print.” One of the drawings with landscapes on both sides is remarkably curious, as they are drawn with what is called “the Metallic Pen”; it is certainly the first specimen of the kind I have seen. The Ostade drawings were our next treat, two of which the artist etched; one is the long print of a merry-making on the outside of an alehouse, penned and washed; the other is of the backgammon-players, completely finished in water-colours. At this time the servant announced nooning; after which Mr. Smedley requested to see Hogarth’s prints, in order to report to Mr. Standly[437]the rarities in Mr. Esdaile’s collection. In this, however, we were disappointed, as it did not contain any which that gentleman did not possess.

On our return to Mr. Esdaile’s room, we were indulged with several of Hogarth’s drawings. A volume containing numerous drawings by Wilson was then placed on the table. “Bless me,” said I, “here is the portrait of my great-uncle, Tom of Ten Thousand.”[438]This is the identical drawing thus described by Edwards:—“It may, however,be asserted, that he drew a head equal to any of the portrait-painters of his time. A specimen of which may be seen by a drawing, now in the possession of J. Richards, Esq., R.A.,[439]which is the portrait of Admiral Smith, and which was drawn before Wilson went abroad. It is executed in black and white chalk, as large as life, upon brown French paper, and is treated in a bold, masterly manner; but this is not a work which can authorise the critic to consider him as superior to the other portrait-painters of his day.”[440]

This drawing was made by Wilson, before he commenced the picture which I am now in possession of, so well engraved in mezzotinto by Faber. Of these inestimable drawings, which are mostly in black chalk, stumped, perhaps the most interesting are those for Celadon and Amelia, and the Niobe. Valuable and truly epic as these specimens certainly are, I must say, for my own part, I should give the preference to the book containing those by Gainsborough, of rustic scenery. I had seen many of them before, in the possession of the artist, Colonel Hamilton, Mr. Nassau, and Mr. Lambert. Two that were possessed by the latter, are stamped with Gainsborough’s initials in gold.

Dr. Richardson,[441]Mr. Esdaile’s son-in-law, having arrived, and dinner being announced, we gave up thesefascinating sources of pleasure, for that which would enable us to enjoy them another day.

The Doctor, with his accustomed elegance of manners, delighted us during our repast with some most interesting observations made during his travels; after which, Flora invited us to the garden, where Mr. Esdaile had, with his usual liberality, allowed her to display some of her most rare as well as picturesque sweets. On our return from the enchanting circuit of the grounds, our general conversation was on the pleasures we had received; and, indeed, so delighted were we with the entertainment of the day, that we talked of little else till our arrival at Westminster Bridge.

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