Inthe year 1300, Giovani Cimabue and Giotto, both of Florence, were the first to assert the natural dignity and originality of art; and the story of these illustrious friends is instructive and romantic. The former was agentleman by birth and scholarship, and brought to his art a knowledge of the poetry and sculpture of Greece and Rome. The latter wasa shepherd; when the inspiration of art fell upon him, he was watching his flocks among the hills; and his first attempts in art were to draw his sheep and goats upon rocks and stones. It happened that Cimabue, who was then high in fame, observed the sketches of the gifted shepherd; entered into conversation with him; heard from his own lips his natural notions of the dignity of art; and was so much charmed by his compositions and conversation, that he carried him to Florence, and became his close and intimate friend and associate. They found Italian painting rude in form, without spirit, and without sentiment. They let out their own hearts fully in their compositions, and to this day their works are highly esteemed for grave dignity of character, and for originality of conception. Of these great Florentines, Giotto, the shepherd, is confessedly the more eminent: in him we see the dawn, or rather the sunrise, of the fuller light of Raphael.
Thisgreat man showed from his infancy a strong inclination for drawing, and made so early a proficiency in it that, at the age of fourteen, he is said to have corrected the drawings of his master, Domenico Ghirlandaio. When Michael Angelo was an old man, one of these drawings being shown to him, he said, “In my youth I was a better artist than I am now.”
Thiscelebrated picture was disposed of by the painter by lottery. There were 1843 chances subscribed for; Hogarth gave the remaining 167 tickets to the Foundling Hospital, and the same night delivered the picture to the Governors. The fortunate number is generally stated to have been among the tickets which the painter handed to the Hospital; but, it is related in theGentleman’s Magazine, though anonymously, thata ladywas the possessor of the fortunate number, and intended to present it to the Foundling Hospital; but that some person having suggested what a door would be opened to scandal, were any of her sex to make such a present, it was given to Hogarth, on the express condition that it should be presented in his own name.
Mr. Gordonrelates:—“M. Averani, a young French artist at Florence, had extraordinary talent for copying miniatures, giving them all the force of oil. I had frequently seen him at work in the gallery, and I purchased of him a clever copy of the Fornarina of Raphael, and one of the Venus Vestita of Titian, in the Pitti Palace, said to be the only miniature painted by this great man. It had a good deal of the character of Queen Mary Stuart, was painted on a gold ground, had great force, and was highly finished. I gave the artist his price, six sequins, and brought it to England. When I disposed of myvertu, in Sloane-street,previous to my settling in Scotland, this miniature made a flaming appearance in the catalogue. The gem was bought by a gentleman for fifty-five guineas. I thought I had done very well by this transaction, until I saw it advertised in theMorning Chronicle, stating that “an original portrait of Mary, Queen of Scotland, the undoubted work of Titian, value one thousand guineas, was to be seen at No. 14, Pall-mall; price of admission, 2s.6d.” The bait took; the owner put three or four hundred pounds into his pocket by the exhibition, and sold the portrait for seven or eight hundred pounds. Here was I an innocent accessory to the greatest imposition that was ever practised on the public. As a work of art, it was worth all I got for it; and I was offered nearly that sum by a friend who knew its whole history. I understand that a nobleman was the purchaser of this beautiful miniature.”
John Astley, the painter, was born at Wem, in Shropshire. He was a pupil of Hudson, and was at Rome about the same time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. After his return to England, he went to Dublin, practised there as a painter for three years, and in that time earned 3000l.As he was painting his way back to London, in his own postchaise, with an outrider, he loitered in his neighbourhood, and, visiting Nutsford Assembly, he there saw Lady Daniel, a widow, who was so captivated by him, that she contrived to sit to him for her portrait, and thenoffered him her hand, which he at once accepted. Poor Astley, in the decline of life, was disturbed by reflections upon the dissipation of his early days, and was haunted with apprehensions of indigence and want. He died at his house, Duckenfield Lodge, Cheshire, Nov. 14, 1787, and was buried at the church of that village.
Wills, the portrait-painter, was not very successful in his profession, and so quitted it, and, having received a liberal education, took orders. He was for several years curate of Canons, in Middlesex, and at the death of the incumbent he obtained the living. In the year 1768, he was appointed chaplain to the chartered Society of Artists; and he preached a sermon at Covent-garden Church, on St. Luke’s Day, in the same year; the text being taken from Job, chap. xxxvii. verse 14—“Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God.” This discourse was afterwards printed at the request of the Society; but Wills did not long enjoy his appointment, in consequence of the disputes which broke out among the members.
Thecelebrated Italian sculptor Canova, when rich and titled, remained the same simple, unostentatious man as in his unknown and humble youth. He cared nothing for personal luxuries. Not only the pension of 3000 crowns granted him by the Pope with the title of Marquis, but a great part of the wealth acquired by his labours, were bestowed in acts ofcharity, and upon unfortunate artists. One year, the harvest failing, he fed the poor of his native Venetian village all winter at his own expense. The manner in which he bestowed his favours reflected additional honour on him. A poor, proud, bad painter, was in danger of starving, with all his family. Canova knew the man would refuse a gift; and, out of respect to his feelings, he sacrificed his own taste. He requested him to paint a picture, leaving the subject and size to his own choice, and saying he had set aside 400 scudi (not less than £100) for this purpose, half of which he handed him at present, the other half should be sent when the work was finished; adding, that the sooner he received it, he should be the better pleased.
Hogarthdisplayed no little vanity regarding his pretensions as a portrait-painter. One day, when dining at Dr. Cheselden’s, he was told that John Freke, surgeon of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, had asserted in Dick’s coffee-house, that Greene was as eminent in composition as Handel. “That fellow, Freke,” cried Hogarth, “is always shooting his bolt absurdly, one way or another. Handel is a giant in music, Greene only a light Florimel-kind of composer.” “Ay, but,” said the other, “Freke declared you were as good a portrait-painter as Vandyke.” “There he was in the right,” quoth Hogarth; “and so I am, give me but my time, and let me choose my subject.”
Writing of himself, Hogarth says:—“The portrait which I painted with most pleasure, and in which Iparticularly wished to excel, was that of Captain Coram, for the Foundling Hospital;” and he adds, in allusion to his detraction as a portrait-painter, “If I am so wretched an artist as my enemies assert, it is somewhat strange that this, which was one of the first I painted the size of life, should stand the test of twenty years’ competition, and be generally thought the best portrait in the place, notwithstanding the first painters in the kingdom exerted all their talents to vie with it.”
ThatTenterden Steeple was the cause of Goodwin Sands does not appear a whit more strange than that in the Foundling Hospital originated the Royal Academy of Arts. Yet, such was the case. The Hospital was incorporated in 1739, and in a few years the present building was erected; but, as the income of the charity could not, with propriety, be expended upon decorations, many of the principal artists of that day generously gave pictures for several of the apartments of the hospital. These were permitted to be shown to the public upon proper application; and hence became one of the sights of the metropolis. The pictures proved very attractive; and this success suggested the annual Exhibition of the united artists, which institution was the precursor of the Royal Academy, in the Adelphi, in the year 1760. Thus, within the walls of the Foundling, the curious may see the state of British art previously to the epochwhen King George the Third first countenanced the historical talent of West.
Among the earliest “governors and guardians” of the Hospital we find William Hogarth, who liberally subscribed his money, and gave his time and talent, towards carrying out the designs of his friend, the venerable Captain Coram, through whose zeal and humanity the Hospital was established. Hogarth’s first artistical aid was the engraving of a head-piece to a power-of-attorney, drawn for the collection of subscriptions towards the Charity; Hogarth next presented to the Hospital an engraved plate of Coram.
Among the early artistic patrons of the Charity, we find Rysbrach, the sculptor; Hayman, the embellisher of Vauxhall Gardens; Highmore, Hudson, and Allan Ramsay; and Richard Wilson, the prince of English landscape-painters. They met often at the hospital, and thus advanced charity and the arts together; for the exhibition of their donations in paintings &c. drew a daily crowd of visitors in splendid carriages; and a visit to the Foundling became the most fashionable morning lounge of the reign of George the Second. The grounds in front of the Hospital were the promenade; and brocaded silks, gold-headed canes, and laced three-cornered (Egham, Staines, and Windsor) hats, formed a gay bevy in Lambs’ Conduit Fields.
A very interesting series of biographettes of “the artists of the Foundling,” with acatalogue raisonnéeof the pictures presented by them, will be found in Mr. Brownlow’s “Memoranda; or, Chronicles” of the Hospital. Among the pictures by Hogarth, are--“Moses brought to Pharaoh’s Daughter,” the “March to Finchley,” and a “Portrait of Captain Coram.” Here are, also, “The Charterhouse,” by Gainsborough; “St. George’s and the Foundling Hospitals,” by Wilson; “Portrait of Handel,” by Kneller; “The Earl of Dartmouth,” by Reynolds; The Cartoon of “The Murder of the Innocents,” by Raphael; the altarpiece of the chapel, “Christ presenting a Little Child,” by West; Portrait of the “Earl of Macclesfield,” by Wilson; “Dr. Mead,” by Allan Ramsay; “George the Second,” by Shackleton; “the Offering of the Wise Men,” by Casali; crayon portrait of “Taylor White,” by Cotes; “A Landscape,” by Lambert; “A Sea-piece,” by Brooking, &c.
M‘Ardell, (says Smith, in hisLife of Nollekens), resided at the Golden Ball, Henrietta-street, Covent Garden. Of the numerous and splendid productions of this excellent engraver of pictures by Sir Joshua, nothing can be said after the declaration of Reynolds himself, that “M‘Ardell’s prints would immortalize him;” however, I will venture to indulge in one remark more, namely, that that engraver has conferred immortality also upon himself in his wonderful print from Hogarth’s picture of ‘Captain Coram,’ the founder of the Foundling Hospital. A brilliant proof of this head in its finest possible state of condition, in my humble opinion, surpasses anything in mezzotinto now extant.
Liotard, a Swiss artist, who came to this country in the reign of George II., and stayed two years, is best known by his works in crayons. His likenesses were as exact as possible, and too like to please those who sat to him: thus he had great business the first year, and very little the second. Devoid of imagination, and one would think of memory also, he could render nothing but what he saw before his eyes. Freckles, marks of the smallpock, everything, found its place; not so much from fidelity, as because he could not conceive the absence of anything that appeared to him. Truth prevailed in all his works; grace in very few or none. Nor was there any ease in his outline; but the stiffness of a bust in all his portraits. Liotard’s lack of employment may, therefore, easily be accounted for.
Itis painful to think how soon the paintings of Raphael, and Titian, and Correggio, and other illustrious men, will perish and pass away. “How long,” said Napoleon to David, “will a picture last?” “About four or five hundred years—a fine immortality!” The poet multiplies his works by means of a cheap material; and Homer, and Virgil, and Dante, and Tasso, and Moliere, and Milton, and Shakspeare, may bid oblivion defiance; the sculptor impresses his conceptions on metal or on marble, and expects to survive the wreck of nations, or the wrongs of time; but thepainter commits to perishable cloth or wood, the visions of his fancy, and dies in the certain assurance that the life of his works will be but short in the land they adorn.
Thismerry imp is the portrait of a child, which was painted without any particular aim as to character. When Alderman Boydell saw it, he said: “Sir Joshua, if you will make this pretty thing into a Puck, for my Shakspeare Gallery, I will give you a hundred guineas for it.” The President smiled and said little, as was his custom: a few hours’ happy labour made the picture what we see it.
Thiscartoon came into the possession of the Foundling Hospital by the conditional bequest of Prince Hoare, Esq. Haydon describes it as “one of the finest instances in the world of variety of expression and beauty of composition, as a work of ‘high art.’ ” It is the centre part of one of the best cartoons which belonged to the set executed by Raphael, at the order of Leo X., and sent afterwards to Flanders, to be copied in tapestry, for exhibition at the Vatican.
The original number of the cartoons was thirteen; but in consequence of the Flemish weavers cutting them into strips for their working machinery, after the tapestry was executed and sent to Rome, the original cartoons were left mingled together in boxes.
When Rubens was in England, he told Charles I. the condition they were in; and the king, who had the finest taste, desired him to procure them. Seven perfect ones were purchased, all, it may be inferred, which remained, and sent to his majesty; what became or had become of the remainder, nobody knows; but here and there, all over Europe, fragments have appeared. At Oxford there are two or three heads; and we believe the Duke of Hamilton or Buccleuch, has others. After Charles’s misfortunes, the cartoons now at Hampton Court were sold, with the rest of his Majesty’s fine collection; but by Cromwell’s express orders they were bought in for three hundred pounds. During the reign of Charles II. they were offered to France for fourteen thousand francs, but Charles was dissuaded from selling them.
The above portion of the “Murder of the Innocents,” was sold at Westminster many years ago, as disputed property. Prince Hoare’s father, before the sale, explained to an opulent friend the great treasure about to be disposed of, and persuaded him to advance the money requisite, on condition of sharing the property. To his great surprise he bought it for twenty-six pounds; and his friend, having no taste, told Mr. Hoare if he would paint him and his family, he would relinquish his right.
These particulars Mr. Haydon had from Prince Hoare, the son; they are related in a letter from the painter to Mr. Lievesley, at the Foundling Hospital, dated October 3, 1837, wherein Haydon suggests the better exhibition of the work as a model of study;and soon after the Governors of the Hospital sent the cartoon by way of loan, to the National Gallery, where it may now be seen and studied.[12]
Spencerwas a miniature-painter of much celebrity, contemporaneous with Hogarth. He was originally a gentleman’s servant, but having a natural turn for art, he amused himself with drawing. It happened that one of the family with whom he lived sat for a portrait to a miniature-painter, and when the work was completed, it was shown to Spencer, who said he thought he could copy it. He was allowed to make the attempt, when his success was so great, that the family he lived with at once patronised him, and by their interest he became a fashionable painter of the day.
Peter Jones, a pupil of Hudson, may be considered a portrait-painter, though his chief excellence was in painting draperies. In this branch of the art, so useful to a fashionable face-painter, he was much employed by Reynolds, Cotes, and West. Many of Sir Joshua’s best whole-lengths are those to which Jones painted the draperies: among them was the portrait of Lady Elizabeth Keppell, in the dress she wore as bridesmaid to the queen: for this Jones was paid twelve guineas; but Sir Joshua was not remarkably liberalon such occasions, of which Jones did not neglect to complain. When the Royal Academy was founded, he was chosen one of its members.
Thefollowing anecdote of Sir Robert Strange, (says Smith,) was related to me by the late Richard Cooper, who instructed Queen Charlotte in drawing, and was for some time drawing-master to Eton School. “Robert Strange, (says Cooper,) was a countryman of mine, a North Briton, who served his time to my father as an engraver, and was a soldier in the rebel army of 1745. It so happened when Duke William put them to flight, that Strange, finding a door open, made his way into the house, ascended to the first-floor, and entered a room where a young lady was seated at needlework, and singing. Young Strange implored her protection. The lady, without rising, or being in the least disconcerted, desired him to get under her hoop. He immediately stooped, and the amiable woman covered him up. Shortly after this, the house was searched; the lady continued at her work, singing as before; the soldiers upon entering the room, considering Miss Lunsdale alone, respectfully retired. Robert, as soon as the search was over, being released from his concealment, kissed the hand of his protectress, at which moment, for the first time, he found himself in love. He married the lady; and no persons, beset as they were with early difficulties, lived more happily.”
Strange afterwards became a loyal man, though fora long time he sighed to be pardoned by his king who, however, was graciously pleased to be reconciled to him, and afterwards knighted him. Sir Robert was a conscientious publisher in delivering subscription impressions of prints; he never took off more proofs than were really bespoken, and every name was put upon the print as it came out of the press, unless it were faulty, and then it was destroyed; not laid aside for future sale, as has been the practice with some of our late publishers.
George Lambertwas for many years principal scene-painter to Covent Garden Theatre; and being a person of great respectability in character and profession, he was often visited, while at work, by persons of consideration. As it frequently happened that he was too much pressed by business to leave the theatre for dinner, he contented himself with a beef-steak, broiled upon the fire in the painting-room. In this humble meal he was sometimes joined by his visitors: the conviviality of the accidental meeting inspired the party with a resolution to establish a club, which was accordingly done, under the title of “The Beef-Steak Club;” and the party assembled periodically in the painting-room.[13]The members were afterwards accommodatedwith a private apartment in the theatre, where the meeting was held for many years; but, after Covent Garden was last rebuilt, the place of meeting was changed to the Shakspeare Tavern. It was then removed to the Lyceum Theatre, in the Strand, on the destruction of which, by fire, in 1830, the place of meeting was transferred to the Bedford Coffeehouse, in Covent Garden. Theregimeof the club is a course of beef-steaks, followed by stewed cheese in silver dishes. The number of members is only twenty-four; and the days of meeting are every Saturday, from November until the end of June.
John Burnetwas educated with Wilkie in the first four years of his studies in the Trustees’ Academy of Edinburgh; and, after arriving in London, in 1806, witnessed the progress of nearly every picture of familiar life which he painted. Burnet relates, that Wilkie was always first on the stairs leading up to the Academy, (which was then held in St. James’s-square,) anxious not to lose a moment of the hours of drawing; and this love of art, paramount to all other gratifications, continued with him to the last, even when his success had put the means in his power of indulging relaxation and procuring amusement. When in the Academy, his intenseness attracted the notice of the more volatile students, who used to pelt him with small pills of soft bread. As he was one of the first to be present, so he was one of the last to depart. After Academy hours, which were from ten to twelvein the forenoon, (the best time of the day for application,) those who were apprentices returned to their several professions; but Wilkie invariably returned to his lodgings, there to follow out what was begun in the Academy, by copying from his own hands and face in a mirror: thus, as it were, engrafting the great principles of the antique on the basis of nature.
Sir Joshuaappears to have been but an irregular manager in his conviviality. “Often was the dinner board prepared for seven or eight, required to accommodate itself to fifteen or sixteen; for often, on the very eve of dinner, would Sir Joshua tempt afternoon visitors with intimation that Johnson, or Garrick, or Goldsmith was to dine there. Nor was the want of seats the only difficulty. A want of knives and forks, of plates and glasses, as often succeeded. In something of the same style, too, was the attendance; the kitchen had to keep pace with the visitors; and it was easy to know the guests best acquainted with the house by their never failing to call instantly for beer, bread, or wine, that they might get them before the first course was over, and the worst confusion began. Once was Sir Joshua prevailed upon to furnish his table with dinner-glasses and decanters; and some saving of time they proved; yet, as they were demolished in the course of service, he could never be persuaded to replace them. “But these trifling embarrassments,” says Mr. Courtenay, describing them to Sir James Macintosh, “only served to enhance the hilarity andthe singular pleasure of the entertainment.” It was not the wine, dishes, and cookery, not the fish and venison, that were talked of or recommended: those social hours, that irregular convivial talk, had matter of higher relish, and far more eagerly enjoyed. And amid all the animated bustle of his guests, the host sat perfectly composed; always attentive to what was said, never minding what was ate or drank, and leaving every one at perfect liberty to scramble for himself.”—Forster’s Life of Goldsmith.
Brooking, a ship-painter of rare merit, about the middle of the last century, like many of the artists of the time, worked for the shops. Mr. Taylor White, Treasurer of the Foundling Hospital, one day saw some of the sea-pieces of this artist in a shop-window in Castle-street, Leicester-square. He inquired his name, but was answered equivocally by the dealer, who told Mr. White that if he pleased he could procure other pictures by the same painter. Brooking was accustomed to write his name upon his pictures, which mark was as often obliterated by the shopkeeper before he placed them in his window. It, however, happened that the artist carried home a piece on which his name was inscribed; and the master being from home, his wife, who received it, placed it in the window without effacing the signature. Luckily, Mr. White saw the picture before it was removed, and thus discovered the name of the painter whose works he so much admired. He instantly advertisedfor the artist to meet him at a certain wholesale linen-draper’s in the city. To this invitation, Brooking, at first, paid no regard; but, seeing it repeated, with assurance of benefit to the person to whom it was addressed, he prudently attended to it, and had an interview with Mr. White, who, from that time, became his friend and patron. One of Brooking’s sea-pieces hangs in the Foundling Hospital: it was painted in eighteen days, and is, altogether, a first-class picture.—Brownlow’s Memoranda of the Foundling Hospital.
Sir D. Wilkie, in his remarks on Portrait Painting, says:—No representations of female character have equalled in sweetness and beauty the female portraits of Sir Joshua Reynolds; yet, a contemporary has remarked, that this was accomplished greatly at the expense of likeness. Hoppner, who was himself distinguished for the beauty with which he endowed the female form, remarked, that even to him it was a matter of surprise that Reynolds could send home portraits with so little resemblance to the originals. This, indeed, in his day, occasioned portraits to be left on his hands, or turned to the wall, which, since the means of comparing resemblances have ceased, have blazed forth in all the splendour of grace and elegance, which the originals would have been envied for had they ever possessed them. I may add to this what is remarked of Sir Thomas Lawrence: his likenesses were celebrated as the most successful of his time;yet, no likenesses exalted so much or refined more upon the originals. He wished to seize the expression, rather than copy the features. His attainment of likeness was most laborious: one distinguished person, who favoured him with forty sittings for his head alone, declared he was the slowest painter he had ever sat to, and he had sat to many.
This distinguished person, (says Burnet, in hisPractical Essays,) I believe, was Sir Walter Scott. The picture was painted for his Majesty, and Lawrence was most anxious to make the picture the best of any painted from so celebrated a character. At other times, however, Sir Thomas was as dexterous with his pencil as any artist. I remember him mentioning that he painted the portrait of Curran, the celebrated Irish barrister, in one day; he came in the morning, remained to dinner, and left at dusk; or, as Lawrence expressed it, quoting his favourite author,
“From morn till noon,From noon to dewy eve.”
“From morn till noon,From noon to dewy eve.”
“From morn till noon,From noon to dewy eve.”
Zoffaniwas a native of Frankfort, and came to England as a painter of small portraits, when he was about thirty years of age. He was employed by George the Third, and painted portraits of the royal family. He was celebrated for small whole-lengths, and painted several pieces of Garrick, and his contemporaries in dramatic scenes. He was engaged by the queen to paint a view of the tribune of Florence; and while there he was noticed by the Emperor of Germany,who inquired his name; and on hearing it, asked what countryman he was. Zoffani replied, “An Englishman.” “Why,” said the Emperor, “your name is German!” “True,” replied the painter, “I was born in Germany; that was accidental: I call that my country where I have been protected.”
Zoffani was admitted a member of the Royal Academy in 1783. He went afterwards to the East Indies, where he became a favourite of the Nabob of Oude, and amassed a handsome fortune, with which he returned to England, and settled at Strand-on-the-Green. Whilst there, he presented a large and well-executed painting of the Last Supper, as an altarpiece, to St. George’s Chapel, then lately built, where it still remains. Every head in the picture, (excepting that of Christ) is a likeness. Here is a portrait of Zoffani himself; the others were likenesses of persons then living at Strand-on-the-Green and Old Brentford. Zoffani had in his establishment a nursemaid who possessed fine hands, which he ever and anon painted in his pictures.
Tosuffer from the want of discernment on the part of the nobility and the people, appears to be the fate of artists in this country. It was not a whit better formerly than it is in our own time. Hogarth had to sell his pictures by raffle, and Wilson was obliged to retire into Wales, from its affording cheaper living. The committee of the British Institution purchased a picture by Gainsborough, for eleven hundred guineas,and presented it to the National Gallery, as an example of excellence; yet this very picture hung for years in the artist’s painting-room without a purchaser; the price was only fifty pounds. In our own times, says John Burnet, “let us take the case of Sir David Wilkie as an example; a painter who has founded a school of art unknown before in this or in any other country—a combination of the invention of Hogarth with the pictorial excellences of Ostade and Teniers; yet this artist’s works, on his coming to London in 1804, were exposed in a shop window at Charing Cross for a few pounds; and a work for which he could only receive fifteen guineas, was sold the other day for eight hundred. Do transactions such as these show the taste or discernment of the public? Lord Mansfield thought thirty pounds a large sum for ‘the Village Politicians;’ and Sir George Beaumont, as a kind of patronage, gave Wilkie a commission to paint the picture of ‘the Blind Fiddler,’ and paid him fifty guineas for what would now bring a thousand at a public sale.[14]It seems, therefore, a fair inference that a discerning public, or a patronising nobility, are only shown when an artist’s reputation makes it safe to encourage him.”—Practical Essays.
Antonio Morewas a favourite of Philip of Spain, whose familiarity with him placed the painter’s life in danger; for he one day ventured to return a slap onthe shoulder, which the king in a playful moment gave him, by rubbing some carmine on his Majesty’s hand. This behaviour was accepted by the monarch as a jest; but it was hinted to More that the holy tribunal might regard it as sacrilege; and he fled, to save himself, into Flanders, where he was employed by the Duke of Alva.
Thelate Sir Walter Scott used to say that when he told a story, he generally contrived to put a laced coat and a cocked hat upon it: this is a good illustration of the Venetian painters—their stories look like the spectacles of a melodrama.—Burnet’s Essays.
Ina fire at Belvoir Castle, in October, 1816, several of the pictures were burnt; among them was Sir Joshua Reynolds’s “Nativity,” a composition of thirteen figures, and in dimensions twelve feet by eighteen. This noble picture had been purchased by the Duke of Rutland for 1200 guineas.
Holloway, who so successfully copied in black chalks the cartoons of Raphael in Hampton Court Palace, was an eccentric genius, deeply read in Scripture, which he expounded in the most nasal tone; but it was very interesting to listen to his observations on the beauties and merits of these master-pieces of art. A Madame Bouiller, a Frenchemigrée,was also occupied on the same subjects. She was patronised by West, who gave her permission to study in the palace; and said that he had never seen such masterly artistical touches of the crayon as hers.
One morning Holloway was found foaming with rage in the Cartoon Gallery. Some person had written against the cartoons, denominating them “wretched daubs;” and sorely did it wound the feelings of the enthusiastic artist, who worshipped with religious fervour these works of Raphael. Yet it was a grotesque scene to behold Madame Bouiller pacing after Holloway, up and down the gallery, with all the grimace and intensity of a Frenchwoman, and re-echoing his furious lamentations.
Sir Abraham Hume, the accomplished annotator ofThe Life and Works of Titian, observes: “It appears to be generally understood that Titian had, in the different periods of life, three distinct manners of painting: the first hard and dry, resembling his master, Giovanni Bellino; the second, acquired from studying the works of Giorgione, was more bold, round, rich in colour, and exquisitely wrought up; the third was the result of his matured taste and judgment, and, properly speaking, may be termed his own—in which he introduced more cool tints into the shadows and flesh, approaching nearer to nature than the universal glow of Giorgione.”
After stating what little is known of the mechanical means employed by Titian in the colouring of hispictures, Sir Abraham remarks: “Titian’s grand secret of all appears to have consisted in the unremitting exercise of application, patience, and perseverance, joined to an enthusiastic attachment to his art: his custom was to employ considerable time in finishing his pictures, working on them repeatedly, till he brought them to perfection; and his maxim was, that whatever was done in a hurry, could not be well done.” In manner and character, as well as talent, Titian may not inappropriately be associated with the most eminent painter this country ever produced, Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Catlin, the traveller, was born in Wyoming, on the Susquehannah: he was bred to the law, but after he had practised two or three years, he sold his law library, and with the proceeds commenced as painter in Philadelphia, without either teacher or adviser. Within a few years, a delegation of Indians arrived from wilds of the far west in Philadelphia, “arrayed and equipped in all their classical beauty—with shield and helmet—with tunic and manteau, tinted and tasselled off exactly for the painter’s palette. In silent and stoic dignity, these lords of the forest strutted about the city for a few days wrapped in their pictured robes, with their brows plumed with the quills of the war-eagle,” and then quitted for Washington city, leaving Catlin to regret their departure. This, however, led him to consider the preservation by pictorial illustrations of the history and customs of thesepeople, as a theme worthy the life of one man; and he therefore resolved that nothing short of the loss of life should prevent him from visiting their country, and becoming their historian. He could find no advocate or abettor of his views; still, he broke from all connexions of family and home, and thus, firmly fixed, armed, equipped, and supplied, he started, in the year 1832, and penetrated the vast and pathless wilds of the Great Far West—devoted to the production of habitual and graphic portraiture of the manners, customs, and character of an interesting race of people who were rapidly passing away from the earth.
Catlin spent about eight years in the Indian country, and, in 1841, brought home portraits of the principal personages from each tribe, views of their villages, pastimes, and religious ceremonies; and a collection of their costumes, manufactures, and weapons. He was undoubtedly the first artist who ever started upon such a labour, designing to carry his canvass to the Rocky Mountains. He visited forty-eight different tribes, containing 400,000 souls, and mostly speaking different languages. He brought home 310 portraits in oil, all painted in their native dress, and in their own wigwams; besides 200 paintings of their villages, wigwams, games, and religious ceremonies, dances, ball-plays, buffalo-hunts, &c.; containing 3000 full-length figures; together with landscapes, and a collection of costumes and other artificial produce, from the size of a huge wigwam to that of a rattle. It was for a time expected that the collection would have been purchased by the British Government, and added to theBritish Museum, but the opportunity was let slip; and thus did we lose these records of a race of our fellow-creatures, whom we shall very shortly have swept from the face of the globe.
Sir E. Bulwer Lyttonhas written this eloquent criticism: “Martin’s ‘Deluge’ is the most simple of his works; it is, perhaps, also, the most awful. Poussin had represented before him the waste of inundation; but not the inundation of a world. With an imagination that pierces from effects to their ghastly and sublime agency, Martin gives, in the same picture, a possible solution to the phenomenon he records; and in the gloomy and perturbed heaven, you see the conjunction of the sun, the moon, and a comet. I consider this the most magnificent alliance of philosophy and art of which the history of painting can boast.”
Inthe year 1760, a youth named Buckingham, a scholar at Mr. King’s academy, in Chapel-street, Soho, presuming upon his father’s knowledge of Sir Joshua Reynolds, asked the President if he would paint him a flag for the next breaking-up of the school; when Sir Joshua goodnaturedly replied, if he would call upon him at a certain time, he would see what he could do. The boy accordingly went, accompanied by a school-fellow, named Williamson (the narrator of this anecdote), when Sir Joshua Reynolds presented them witha flag, about a yard square, on which he had painted the king’s coat of arms. This flag was carried in the breaking-up procession to the Yorkshire Stingo, an honour to the boys, and a still greater honour to him who painted it, and gave up his valuable time to promote their holiday amusements.
Theadmirers of Mr. Cooper’s Cuyp-like pictures will be gratified with the following anecdote of the early recognition of the painter’s genius, pleasantly related by Miss Mitford, in herBelford Regis.
“Sometime in November, 1831, Mr. Cribb, an ornamental gilder in London, (King-street, Covent Garden,) was struck with a small picture—a cattle-piece, in a shop window in Greek-street, Soho. On inquiring for the artist, he could learn no tidings of him; but the people of the shop promised to find him out. Time after time, our persevering lover of the arts called to repeat his inquiries, but always unsuccessfully; until about three months after, when he found that the person he sought was a Mr. Thomas Sydney Cooper, a young artist, who had been for many years settled at Brussels, as a drawing-master, but had been driven from that city by the Revolution, which had deprived him of his pupils, among whom were some of the members of the royal family; and, unable to obtain employment in London as a cattle-painter, he had, with the generous self-devotion which most ennobles a man of genius, supported his familyby making lithographic drawings of fashionable caps and bonnets, I suppose, as a puff for some milliner, or some periodical which deals in costumes. In the midst of this interesting family, and of these caps and bonnets, Mr. Cribb found him; and deriving from what he saw of his sketches and drawings additional conviction of his genius, he immediately commissioned him to paint a picture on his own subject, and at his own price, making such an advance as the richest artist could not scruple to accept on a commission, conjuring him to leave off caps and bonnets, and foretelling his future eminence. Mr. Cribb says, that he shall never forget the delight of Mr. Cooper’s face when he gave the order—he has the right to the luxury of such a recollection. Well! the picture was completed: our friend, Mr. Cribb, who is not a man to do his work by halves, bespoke a companion, and while that was painting, showed the first to a great number of artists and amateurs, who all agreed in expressing the strongest admiration, and in wondering where the painter could have been hidden. Before the second picture was half finished, a Mr. Carpenter, (I believe that I am right in the name,) gave Mr. Cooper a commission for a piece, which was exhibited in May, 1833, at the Suffolk-street Gallery; and from that moment orders poured in, and the artist’s fortune was made. It is right to add, that Mr. Cooper was generously eager to have this story made known, and Mr. Cribb as generously averse to its publication. But surety, it ought to be recorded for the example sake, and for their mutual honour.”
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?”
Soonafter 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 sawTyers, 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.
Itis 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.
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.
Gainsboroughwas 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 sunnynooks 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,” werealso 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 hisLife 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.
Haydonwas 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 tojoin 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.
Rubenswas 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 spiritedAndalusian 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.
Likeother 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.
Thispicture was bought of the artist by Sir W. Elford and Mr. Tingcomb, for 700l.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 particularlyfor 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:—