ZOFFANI AND GEORGE III.

“It was two hundred and odd feet long,” says Miss Porter; “the proportioned height I have now forgotten. But I remember, when I first saw the vast expense of vacant canvas stretched along, or rather in a semicircle, against the wall of the great room in the Lyceum, where he painted it, I was terrified at the daring of his undertaking. I could not conceive that he could cover that immense space with the subject he intended, under a year’s time at least, but—and it is indeed marvellous!—he did it inSIX WEEKS! But he worked on it every day (except Sundays) during those weeks, from sunrise until dark. It was finished during the time the committees of the Royal Academy were sitting at Somerset House, respectingthe hanging of the pictures there for that year’s exhibition; therefore it must have been towards the latter end of April. No artist had seen the painting of Seringapatam during its progress; but when it was completed, my brother invited his revered old friend, Mr. West, (the then President of the Royal Academy,) to come and look at the picture, and give him his opinion of it, ere it should be opened to the public view. * * * Mr. West went over from the Lyceum, on the morning on which he had called to see my brother and his finished painting, to Somerset House, where the Committee had been awaiting his presence above an hour. ‘What has detained our President so long?’ inquired Sir Thomas Lawrence of him, on his entrance. ‘A wonder!’ returned he, ‘a wonder of the world!—I never saw anything like it!—a picture of two hundred feet dimensions, painted by that boyKerr Porter, in six weeks! and as admirably done as it could have been by the best historical painter amongst us in as many months!’ You, my dear Sir, need no description of this picture; you saw it; and at the time of its exhibition you also must have heard of, and probably also saw, some of the affecting effects the truth of its pictorial war-tale had on many of the female spectators.“After its exhibition closed, it was deposited, packed upon a roller, in a friend’s warehouse. Thence, some circumstances caused it to be removed successively to other places of supposed similar security, but in one of which I believe it finally perished by the accidental burning down of the premises. The original sketches of this ‘noble and stupendous effort of art,’ as you so truly call it, are now in my own possession; and you may believe I value them as the apple of my eye. I must not forget to mention, with regard to Seringapatam, that had our British government, at the time of my brother’s ardour for these paintings, possessed a building large enough for the purpose, he would have presented his country with that picture, and three others on British historical subjects, to form a perpetual exhibition for the benefit of its military and naval hospitals. Mr. Pitt lamented to him the impossibility then, of commanding such a building; so the project fell to the ground. The last of these intended four pictures was that of ‘The Battle of Agincourt,’ which my brother afterwards presented to the city of London, where it was hung up in the Egyptian Hall of the Mansion House. Some alterations in the room occasioned its being taken down for a temporary purpose; but it never saw the light again untillast year, when (after above a dozen yearsoblivion in—nobody knew where), it was accidentally found in one of the vaulted chambers under Guildhall. When disentombed, it was hastily spread out against one of the walls of the great hall itself, and announced, in the newspapers, as a picture ofunknown antiquity, of some also unknown but evidently distinguished artist; and most probably it had been deposited in those vaults for security, at thegreat fire of London, and had remained there, unsuspected, ever since! The hall was thronged, day after day, to see it; and Sir Martin Shee told me, that so great was the mysterious valuation the discovery had put on it, that he heard he had been quoted as having passed his opinion on it, that ‘it was a picture worth £15,000!’ Without proper safeguards behind the canvas, a long exposure on the wall would have injured the picture; and it was taken down again before I came to London, after having heard of the discovery of the ‘Agincourt’—for I immediately recognised what, and whose, the picture was—and hastened to inform the present gentlemen of the city corporation accordingly.”

“After its exhibition closed, it was deposited, packed upon a roller, in a friend’s warehouse. Thence, some circumstances caused it to be removed successively to other places of supposed similar security, but in one of which I believe it finally perished by the accidental burning down of the premises. The original sketches of this ‘noble and stupendous effort of art,’ as you so truly call it, are now in my own possession; and you may believe I value them as the apple of my eye. I must not forget to mention, with regard to Seringapatam, that had our British government, at the time of my brother’s ardour for these paintings, possessed a building large enough for the purpose, he would have presented his country with that picture, and three others on British historical subjects, to form a perpetual exhibition for the benefit of its military and naval hospitals. Mr. Pitt lamented to him the impossibility then, of commanding such a building; so the project fell to the ground. The last of these intended four pictures was that of ‘The Battle of Agincourt,’ which my brother afterwards presented to the city of London, where it was hung up in the Egyptian Hall of the Mansion House. Some alterations in the room occasioned its being taken down for a temporary purpose; but it never saw the light again untillast year, when (after above a dozen yearsoblivion in—nobody knew where), it was accidentally found in one of the vaulted chambers under Guildhall. When disentombed, it was hastily spread out against one of the walls of the great hall itself, and announced, in the newspapers, as a picture ofunknown antiquity, of some also unknown but evidently distinguished artist; and most probably it had been deposited in those vaults for security, at thegreat fire of London, and had remained there, unsuspected, ever since! The hall was thronged, day after day, to see it; and Sir Martin Shee told me, that so great was the mysterious valuation the discovery had put on it, that he heard he had been quoted as having passed his opinion on it, that ‘it was a picture worth £15,000!’ Without proper safeguards behind the canvas, a long exposure on the wall would have injured the picture; and it was taken down again before I came to London, after having heard of the discovery of the ‘Agincourt’—for I immediately recognised what, and whose, the picture was—and hastened to inform the present gentlemen of the city corporation accordingly.”

Such is the affectionate narrative from the pen of the youthful painter’s sister.

Zoffaniwas employed by George III. to paint a scene from Reynolds’sSpeculation, in which Quick, Munden, and Miss Wallis were introduced. The King called at the artist’s to see the work in progress; and at last it was done, “all but thecoat.” The picture, however, was not sent to the palace, and the King repeated his visit. Zoffani, with some embarrassment, said, “It is all done but the goat.” “Don’t tell me,” said the impatient monarch; “this is always the way. You said it was done all but the coat the last time I was here.” “I said the goat, and please your Majesty,” replied the artist. “Ay!” rejoined the King; “the goat or the coat, I care not which you call it; I say I will not have the picture,” and was about to leavethe room, when Zoffani, in agony, repeated, “It is thegoatthat is not finished,” pointing to a picture of a goat that hung up in a frame, as an ornament to the scene at the theatre. The King laughed heartily at the blunder, and waited patiently till “the goat” was finished.

Inthe year 1644, Cosmo, the son of Ferdinand II. de Medici, undertook a journey, an account of which was written at the time by Philipe Pizzichi, his travelling chaplain. This work was published at Florence, in 1829. It contains some curious notices of persons and things, and, among others, what will interest every lover of the fine arts. Speaking of Verona, the diarist mentions the Curtoni Gallery of Paintings, in which “the picture most worthy of attention is the Lady of Raffaello, so carefully finished by himself, and so well preserved, that it surpasses every other.” The editor of these travels has satisfactorily shown that Raffaello’s lady here described is the true Fornarina; so that of the three likenesses of her said to be executed by this eminent artist, the genuine one is the Veronese, belonging to the Curtoni Gallery, then the property of a Lady Cavalini Brenzoni, who obtained it by inheritance.

Uponpulling down the Bishop’s palace at Chelsea, many years ago, a singular discovery was made. In a small room near the north front were found, on theplaster of the walls, nine figures as large as life, three men and six women, drawn in outline, with black chalk, in a bold and animated style. Of these correct copies have been published. They display much of the manner of Hogarth, who, it is well known, lived on intimate terms with Bishop Hoadly, and frequently visited his lordship at this palace; and it is supposed that these figures apply to some incident in the Bishop’s family, or to some scene in a play. His lordship’s partiality for the drama is well known. His brother, who resided in Chelsea, at Cremorne House, wrote one of the best comedies in the English language—The Provoked Husband.

Mr. Cribb, of King-street, Covent Garden, has (1848), in his collection of memorials of men of genius, a palette which belonged to Sir Joshua Reynolds. It descended to Mr. Cribb from his father, who received it from Sir Joshua’s niece, the Marchioness of Thomond. It is of plain mahogany, and measures 11 inches by 7 inches, oblong in form, with a sort of loop handle.

Cunningham tells us that Sir Joshua’s sitters’ chair moved on castors, and stood above the floor a foot and a half. Heheld his palettes by a handle, and the sticks of his brushes were 18 inches long. The following memoranda are dated 1755:—“For painting the flesh, black, blue-black, white, lake, carmine, orpiment, yellow ochre, ultramarine, and varnish. To lay the palette: first lay, carmine and white in differentdegrees; second lay, orpiment and white ditto; third lay, blue-black and white ditto. The first sitting, for expedition, make a mixture as like the sitter’s complexion as you can.”

SirJoshua once hearing of a young artist who had become embarrassed by an injudicious marriage, and was on the point of being arrested, immediately hurried to his residence, to inquire into the case. The unfortunate artist told the melancholy particulars of his situation; adding, that £40 would enable him to compound with his creditors. After some further conversation, Sir Joshua took his leave, telling the distressed painter he would do something for him. When bidding him adieu at the door, Sir Joshua took him by the hand, and, after squeezing it cordially, hurried off with a benevolent triumph in his heart—while the astonished and relieved artist found in his hand a banknote for £100!

Theanecdotes of the dog which menaced a goat depicted by the faithful pencil of Glover, and of the macaw, which, with beak and wings, attacked the portrait of a female servant painted by Northcote, are well known. Two family portraits, painted by Mr. J. P. Knight, were one day sent home, when they were instantly recognised with great joy by a spaniel which had been a favourite with the originals. On being taken into the room, and perceiving the canvas thus stampedwith identity even to illusion, the faithful dog endeavoured, by every demonstration of affection, to attract the notice of her former friends; and was with difficulty withheld by one of the bystanders from leaping upon them, and overwhelming them with her caresses. This interesting recognition continued for many minutes, and was repeated on the next and following days; until finding, doubtless, that the scent was wanting, poor “Flossy” slunk away abashed, in evident mortification that her well-known playfellows were so regardless of her proffered kindness. Yet, turning upon them both alternately many a wistful look, she seemed unwilling to be convinced, even by experience, that she had thus mistaken the shadow for the substance.

ThePlough public-house at Kensal-green, on the road to Harrow, was a favourite resort of George Morland. Here this errant son of genius was wont to indulge in deep potations. He lodged hard by, and was frequently in company with Ward, the painter, whose example of moral steadiness was exhibited to him in vain. While at Kensal-green, Morland fell in love with Miss Ward, a young lady of beauty and modesty, and soon afterwards married her; she was the sister of his friend, the painter; and to make the family union stronger, Ward sued for the hand of Maria Morland, and in about a month after his sister’s marriage, obtained it.

Morland’s courtship and honeymoon drew himfrom the orgies at the Plough, but on returning to the metropolis, he betook himself to his former habits. Yet, with all his dissipation, Morland was not indolent; as is attested by four thousand pictures, most of them of great merit, which he painted during a life of forty years.

Among Morland’s portraits is one which has become of peculiar historical interest: it is a small whole-length of William the Fourth when a midshipman. The sailor-prince is looking wistfully upon the sea, which he loved far dearer than the cumbrous splendour of a crown.

Henry Cornelius Vroom, the Dutchman, having painted a number of devout subjects, started for Spain to sell them; but was cast away upon a small island near the coast of Portugal. The painter and some of the crew were relieved by monks, who lived among the rocks, and they conducted them to Lisbon, where Vroom was engaged by a picture-dealer to paint the storm he had just escaped. In this picture he succeeded so well, that the Portuguese dealer continued to employ him. He improved so much in sea-pieces that he saved money, returned home, and applied himself exclusively to that class of painting. He then lived at Haerlem, where he was employed to design the suite of tapestry representing the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, which hung for many years upon the walls of the House of Lords, at Westminster. Ithad been bespoken by Lord Howard of Effingham, the Lord High Admiral of the English Fleet, which engaged the Armada; it was sold by him to James the First. It consisted originally of ten compartments, forming separate pictures, each of which was surrounded by a wrought border, including the portraits of the officers who held command in the English fleet. This tapestry was woven, according to Sandrart, by Francis Spiering: it was destroyed in the fire which consumed the two Houses of Parliament, in 1834. Fortunately, engravings from these hangings were executed by Mr. John Pine, and published in 1739, with illustrations from charters, medals, &c.

Thefollowing summary of the fortunes of painters is at once curious and interesting:—

“One must confess that if the poets were an order of beings of too great sensibility for this world, the painters laboured still more under this malady of genius. Zoppo, a sculptor, having accidentally broken thechef d’œuvreof his efforts, destroyed himself. Chendi poisoned himself, because he was only moderately applauded for the decorations of a tournament. Louis Caracci died of mortification because he could not set right a foot in a fresco, the wrong position of which he did not perceive till the scaffolding was taken away. Cavedone lost his talent from grief at his son’s death, and begged his bread from want of commissions. Schidone, inspired with the passion ofplay, died of despair to have lost all in one night. There was one who languished, and was no more from seeing the perfection of Raphael. Torrigini, to avoid death at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition, put an end to himself, having broken to pieces his own statue of the Virgin, an avaricious hidalgo, who had ordered it, higgling at the price. Bandinelli died, losing a commission for a statue; Daniel de Volterra, from anxiety to finish a monument to Henry IV. of France. Cellini frequently became unwell in the course of his studies, from the excitement of his feelings. When one sums up the history of painters with the furious and bloody passions of a Spagnoletto, and Caravaggio, Tempeste, and Calabrese, one must suppose all their sensibilities much stronger than those of the rest of mankind.”

Thisfar-famed picture, believed to be the only genuine portrait of the poet, was bought at the sale at Stowe, in the autumn of 1848, by the Earl of Ellesmere, for 355 guineas. Its history, as stated in theAthenæumshortly after the period of the sale, is as follows:—“The Duke of Chandos obtained it by marriage with the daughter and heiress of a Mr. Nicholl, of Minchenden House, Southgate; Mr. Nicholl obtained it from a Mr. Robert Keck, of the Inner Temple, who gave (the first and best) Mrs. Barry, the actress, as Oldys tells us, forty guineas for it. Mrs. Barry had it from Betterton, and Betterton had it from Sir WilliamDavenant, who was a professed admirer of Shakspeare, and not unwilling to be thought his son. Davenant was born in 1605, and died in 1668; and Betterton, (as every reader of Pepys will recollect,) was the great actor, belonging to the Duke’s Theatre, of which Davenant was the patentee. The elder brother of Davenant, (Parson Robert,) had been heard to relate, as Aubrey informs us, that Shakspeare had often kissed Sir William when a boy.

“Davenant lived quite near enough to Shakspeare’s time to have obtained a genuine portrait of the poet whom he admired—in an age, too, when the Shakspeare mania was not so strong as it is now. There is no doubt that this was the portrait which Davenant believed to be like Shakspeare, and which Kneller, before 1692, copied and presented to glorious John Dryden, who repaid the painter with one of the best of his admirable epistles.

“The Chandos Shakspeare is a small portrait on canvas, 22 inches long by 18 broad. The face is thoughtful, the eyes are expressive, and the hair is of a brown black. The dress is black, with a white turnover collar, the strings of which are loose. There is a small gold ring in the left ear. We have had an opportunity of inspecting it both before and after the sale, and in the very best light, and have no hesitation in saying that the copies we have seen of it are very far from like. It agrees in many respects—the short nose especially—with the Stratford bust, and is not more unlike the engraving before the first folio—or the Gerard Johnson bust on the Stratford monument—than Raeburn’s Sir Walter Scott is unlike Sir Thomas Lawrence’s—or West’s Lord Byron unlike the better known portrait by Phillips. It has evidently been touched upon; the yellow oval that surrounds it has a look of Kneller’s age.”

The opinion of the writer in theAthenæumis, that the Chandos picture is not the original for which Shakspeare sat, but a copy made for Sir William Davenant from some known and acknowledged portrait of the poet.

Sir Joshua Reynoldshas done more than any one else to vindicate the art of portrait-painting as indigenous to our country—he has started it afresh from its lethargy and recovered it from its errors—placed himself at once above all his countrymen who had preceded him, and has remained above all who have followed. Like Holbein and Vandyke, Sir Joshua put his stamp upon the times; or rather, like a true artist and philosopher, he took that aggregate impression which the times gave. Each has doubtless given his sitters a character of his own; but this is not our argument. Each has also made his sitters what the costume of the time contributed to make them. If Vandyke’s women are dignified and lofty, it is his doing, for he was dignified and lofty in all his compositions; if they are also childish and trivial, it is the accident of the costume; for he was never either in his other pictures. If Reynolds’s sitters are all simple, earnest, and sober, it is because he was the artist, for he was so in all he touched; if they arealso stately, refined, and intellectual, it was the effect of the costume, for he was not so in his other conceptions. For instance, Lady St. Asaph, with her infant, lolling on a couch, in a loose tumbled dress, with her feet doubled under her, is sober and respectable looking—in spite of dress and position. Mrs. Hope, in an enormous cabbage of a cap, with her hair over her eyes, is blowsy and vulgar in spite of Reynolds.

To our view, the average costume of Sir Joshua was excessively beautiful. We go through a gallery of his portraits with feelings of intense satisfaction, that there should have been a race of women who could dress so decorously, so intellectually, and withal so becomingly. Not a bit of the costume appeals to any of the baser instincts. There is nothing to catch the vulgar, or fix the vicious. All is pure, noble, serene, benevolent. They seem as if they would care for nothing we could offer them, if our deepest reverence were not with it. We stand before them like Satan before Eve, “stupidly good,” ready to abjure all the fallacies of the Fathers, all the maxims of the moderns—ready to eat our own words if they disapproved them—careless what may have been the name or fame, family or fortune, of such lofty and lovely creatures—yea, careless of their very beauty, for thesoulthat shines through it. And then to think that they are all dead!—Quarterly Review.

Beforethe change that took place in the general appearance of London, soon after the accession of George III., the universal use of signs, not only for taverns and ale-houses, but also for tradesmen, furnished no small employment for the inferior rank of painters, and sometimes even for the superior professors. Cotton painted several good ones; but among the most celebrated practitioners in this branch, was a person of the name of Lamb, who possessed a considerable degree of ability. His pencil was bold and masterly, well adapted to the subjects on which it was generally employed. Mr. Wale, who was one of the founders of the Royal Academy, and appointed the first Professor of Perspective in that institution, also painted some signs; the principal one was a full-length of Shakspeare, about five feet high, which was executed for and displayed before the door of a public-house at the corner of Little Russel Street, Drury Lane. It was enclosed in a sumptuously carved gilt frame, and suspended by rich iron-work. But this splendid object of popular attraction did not stand long before it was taken down, in consequence of an Act of Parliament that was passed for paving, and removing the signs and other obstructions from, the streets of London. Such was the total change of fashion, and the consequent disuse of signs, that this representation of the immortal bard was sold for a trifle to a broker, at whose door it stood for several years, until it was totally destroyed by the weather and other accidents.

TheDuchess of Kingston was very anxious to be received by some crowned head, as the only means of relief from the disgrace fixed upon her by her trial and conviction for bigamy. The Court of Russia was chosen, where pictures were sent as presents, not only to the Sovereign, but to the most powerful of the nobles. Count Tchernicheff was represented to the Duchess as an exalted character, to whom she ought, in policy, to pay her especialdevoirs. Feeling the force of the observation, she sent him two paintings. The Duchess was no judge of pictures, and a total stranger to the value of these pieces, which were originals by Raphael and Claude Lorraine. The Count was soon apprised of this, and, on the arrival of the Duchess at St. Petersburg, he waited on her Grace, and professed his gratitude for the present, at the same time assuring the Duchess that the pictures were estimated at a value in Russian money equal to ten thousand pounds sterling. The Duchess could with the utmost difficulty conceal her chagrin. She told the Count “that she had other pictures, which she should consider it an honour if he would accept; that the two paintings in his possession were particularly the favourites of her departed lord; but that the Count was extremely kind in permitting them to occupy a place in his palace, until her mansion was properly prepared.” This palpable hint was not taken.

J.Swartz, a distinguished German painter, having engaged to execute a roof-piece in a public townhall, and to paint by the day, grew exceedingly negligent; so that the magistrates and overseers of the work were frequently obliged to hunt him out of the tavern. Seeing he could not drink in quiet, he one morning stuffed a pair of stockings and shoes corresponding with those that he wore, hung them down betwixt his staging where he sat to work, removed them a little once or twice a-day, and took them down at noon and night; and by means of this deception he drank without the least disturbance a whole fortnight together, the innkeeper being in the plot. The officers came in twice a-day to look at him; and, seeing a pair of legs hanging down, suspected nothing, but greatly extolled their convert Swartz as the most laborious and conscientious painter in the world.

Swartz had once finished an admirable picture of our Saviour’s Passion, on a large scale, and in oil colours. A certain Cardinal was so well pleased with it, that he resolved to bring the Pope to see it. Swartz knew the day, and, determined to put a trick on the Pope and the Cardinal, painted over the oil, in fine water-colours, the twelve disciples at supper, but all together by the ears, like the Lapithæ and the Centaurs. At the time appointed, the Pope and Cardinal came to see the picture. Swartz conducted them to the room where it hung. They stood amazed, and thought the painter mad. At lengththe Cardinal said, “Idiot, dost thou call this a Passion?” “Certainly I do,” said Swartz. “But,” replied the Cardinal, “show me the picture I saw when here last.” “This is it,” said Swartz, “for I have no other finished in the house.” The Cardinal angrily denied that it was the same. Swartz, unwilling or afraid to carry the joke further, requested that they would retire a few minutes out of his room. No sooner had they done so, than Swartz, with a sponge and warm water, obliterated the whole of the water-colour coating; then, re-introducing the Pope and the Cardinal, he presented them with a most beautiful picture of the Passion. They stood astonished, and thought Swartz a necromancer. At last the painter explained the mystery; and then, as the old chroniclers say, “they knew not which most to admire, his work or his wit.”

Richardson, in his anecdotes of painting, tells the following:—“Some years ago, a gentleman came to me to invite me to his house. ‘I have,’ said he, ‘a picture of Rubens, and it is a rare good one. Little H—— the other day came to see it, and says it is a copy. If any one says so again,I’ll break his head. Pray, Mr. Richardson, will you do me the favour to come andgive me your real opinion of it?’ ”

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:[1]Southey’s Life of John Bunyan.[2]In his Comic Miscellanies.[3]Supported by the following note, written by Dr. Parr, in his copy of “The Letters of Junius:”—“The writer of ‘Junius’ was Mr. Lloyd, secretary to George Grenville, and brother to Philip Lloyd, Dean of Norwich. This will one day or other be generally acknowledged.—S. P.”[4]Personal Recollections of the late Daniel O’Connell, M.P. By William J. O’N. Daunt.[5]See, also, an ensuing page, 120.[6]Johnson, by the way, had a strange nervous feeling, which made him uneasy if he had not touched every post between the Mitre Tavern and his own lodgings.[7]The house has been destroyed many years.[8]“The Dyotts,” notes Croker, “are a respectable and wealthy family, still residing near Lichfield. The royalist who shot Lord Brooke when assaulting St. Chad’s Cathedral, in Lichfield, on St. Chad’s Day, was a Mr. Dyott.”[9]“I have seen,” says a Correspondent of theInverness Courier, “a copy of the second edition of Burns’s ‘Poems,’ with the blanks filled up, and numerous alterations made in the poet’s handwriting: one instance, not the most delicate, but perhaps the most amusing and characteristic will suffice. After describing the gambols of his ‘Twa Dogs,’ their historian refers to their sitting down in coarse and rustic terms. This, of course, did not suit the poet’s Edinburgh patrons, and he altered it to the following:—’Till tired at last, and doucer grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’Still this did not please his fancy; he tried again, and hit it off in the simple, perfect form in which it now stands:—‘Until wi’ daffin weary grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’ ”[10]Campbell’s alterations were, generally, decided improvements; but in one instance he failed lamentably. The noble peroration of Lochiel is familiar to most readers:—“Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field and his feet to the foe;And leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.”In the quarto edition ofGertrude of Wyoming, when the poet collected and reprinted his minor pieces, this lofty sentiment was thus stultified:—“Shall victor exult in the battle’s acclaim,Or look to yon heaven from the death-bed of fame.”The original passage, however, was wisely restored in the subsequent editions.[11]Abridged from “Practical Essays on the Fine Arts,” by John Burnet, F.R.S., an acute and amusing work.[12]See Haydon’s graphic letter in Brownlow’s “Memoranda; or, Chronicles of the Foundling Hospital.”[13]Peg Woffington was for some time President of the Club; and often, after she had been portraying on the stage“The fair resemblance of a martyr queen,”she was to be seen in the Club-room, with a pot of porter in her hand, and crying out, “Confusion to all order! let liberty thrive!”[14]The Germans are great admirers of English art, and a picture by Wilkie has long graced the Gallery of Munich.[15]There hangs in the Long or Zoological Gallery of the British Museum a portrait of Charles I., when Prince of Wales. The artist by whom this picture was executed is unknown. Neither in the features, nor in the thoughtful expression of countenance, does it resemble the portraits taken in his maturer age: the melancholy which Vandyke has thrown into the celebrated picture of the King, at Windsor Castle, is here wanting; yet this portrait is known to have been amongst those that were sold by order of the Commissioners of the Commonwealth, from the collection at Whitehall.

FOOTNOTES:

[1]Southey’s Life of John Bunyan.

[2]In his Comic Miscellanies.

[3]Supported by the following note, written by Dr. Parr, in his copy of “The Letters of Junius:”—“The writer of ‘Junius’ was Mr. Lloyd, secretary to George Grenville, and brother to Philip Lloyd, Dean of Norwich. This will one day or other be generally acknowledged.—S. P.”

[4]Personal Recollections of the late Daniel O’Connell, M.P. By William J. O’N. Daunt.

[5]See, also, an ensuing page, 120.

[6]Johnson, by the way, had a strange nervous feeling, which made him uneasy if he had not touched every post between the Mitre Tavern and his own lodgings.

[7]The house has been destroyed many years.

[8]“The Dyotts,” notes Croker, “are a respectable and wealthy family, still residing near Lichfield. The royalist who shot Lord Brooke when assaulting St. Chad’s Cathedral, in Lichfield, on St. Chad’s Day, was a Mr. Dyott.”

[9]“I have seen,” says a Correspondent of theInverness Courier, “a copy of the second edition of Burns’s ‘Poems,’ with the blanks filled up, and numerous alterations made in the poet’s handwriting: one instance, not the most delicate, but perhaps the most amusing and characteristic will suffice. After describing the gambols of his ‘Twa Dogs,’ their historian refers to their sitting down in coarse and rustic terms. This, of course, did not suit the poet’s Edinburgh patrons, and he altered it to the following:—’Till tired at last, and doucer grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’Still this did not please his fancy; he tried again, and hit it off in the simple, perfect form in which it now stands:—‘Until wi’ daffin weary grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’ ”

’Till tired at last, and doucer grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’

Still this did not please his fancy; he tried again, and hit it off in the simple, perfect form in which it now stands:—

‘Until wi’ daffin weary grown,Upon a knowe they sat them down.’ ”

[10]Campbell’s alterations were, generally, decided improvements; but in one instance he failed lamentably. The noble peroration of Lochiel is familiar to most readers:—“Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field and his feet to the foe;And leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.”In the quarto edition ofGertrude of Wyoming, when the poet collected and reprinted his minor pieces, this lofty sentiment was thus stultified:—“Shall victor exult in the battle’s acclaim,Or look to yon heaven from the death-bed of fame.”The original passage, however, was wisely restored in the subsequent editions.

[10]Campbell’s alterations were, generally, decided improvements; but in one instance he failed lamentably. The noble peroration of Lochiel is familiar to most readers:—

“Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field and his feet to the foe;And leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.”

In the quarto edition ofGertrude of Wyoming, when the poet collected and reprinted his minor pieces, this lofty sentiment was thus stultified:—

“Shall victor exult in the battle’s acclaim,Or look to yon heaven from the death-bed of fame.”

The original passage, however, was wisely restored in the subsequent editions.

[11]Abridged from “Practical Essays on the Fine Arts,” by John Burnet, F.R.S., an acute and amusing work.

[12]See Haydon’s graphic letter in Brownlow’s “Memoranda; or, Chronicles of the Foundling Hospital.”

[13]Peg Woffington was for some time President of the Club; and often, after she had been portraying on the stage“The fair resemblance of a martyr queen,”she was to be seen in the Club-room, with a pot of porter in her hand, and crying out, “Confusion to all order! let liberty thrive!”

[13]Peg Woffington was for some time President of the Club; and often, after she had been portraying on the stage

“The fair resemblance of a martyr queen,”

she was to be seen in the Club-room, with a pot of porter in her hand, and crying out, “Confusion to all order! let liberty thrive!”

[14]The Germans are great admirers of English art, and a picture by Wilkie has long graced the Gallery of Munich.

[15]There hangs in the Long or Zoological Gallery of the British Museum a portrait of Charles I., when Prince of Wales. The artist by whom this picture was executed is unknown. Neither in the features, nor in the thoughtful expression of countenance, does it resemble the portraits taken in his maturer age: the melancholy which Vandyke has thrown into the celebrated picture of the King, at Windsor Castle, is here wanting; yet this portrait is known to have been amongst those that were sold by order of the Commissioners of the Commonwealth, from the collection at Whitehall.

Back to Index Next