JOHN HOPPNER was born in London, in the year 1759. In the earlier part of his life, it was his good fortune to associate with some of the most brilliant characters of the age. He applied himself closely to the study of the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and was, in many points, successful in imitating that celebrated portrait-painter’s beauties. On his first using the brush, he is described as possessing much confidence, with little ability.
Edward Dayes, in his “Modern Artists,” in estimating the works of Hoppner, says:—
“This artist is the best of all the imitators of Sir Joshua, and would deserve great praise, were his pictures his own; but so far is that from being the case, that they are composed from the prints of Reynolds; and the attitudes of the sitters made to answer as well as circumstances will permit. It is truly astonishing that any one can lose sight of the charms of that great mistress of the art, Nature, and tread servilelyin the footsteps of any man, however exalted his rank. The loss of ambition is a sure sign of the decline of the arts; as, where every one is content to follow, no one will get before. When a great man appears, weak minds are apt to seek for the rules of art in his works, instead of applying to Nature: this is precisely the case of this artist; he has not a wish, or an inquiry to make, that does not end in Reynolds,—forgetting the old proverb, that when two men ride on a horse, one must be behind. His colouring is clear and bright, his handling free; his small pictures are by far the best.”
Hoppner died in Charles Street, St. James’s Square, on the 23rd January, 1810.
AN ECCENTRIC CUSTOMER.
The following humorous anecdote is given in theLiterary Gazette, 1826, as related by Hoppner, to his friend Coombe: A loyal banker dropped in upon the painter, tonegociatefor a family picture. It happened in the memorable epoch of “life and property men,” when London was to be thatched with silver, and paved with gold. “Well, sir, your most obedient, Mister Painter,” said the squire banker, looking around, “Sir, yours,” returned the painter, bowing low. The banker was a fine, portly, pompous-looking citizen, a good subject to his Majesty, and no bad subject as a sitter, though it happened that he sat not. “Well, Mister Painter, sir, you have some fine pieces here, sir. Pray sir, a—what may be the value of that?” pointing to a whole length of an admiral. “My price for that is two hundred guineas.” “So!” ejaculated the banker; “a fine, noble-looking fellow, ’pon my word—very heroical indeed! Ah! Mister Painter, they are our greatwooden walls, our primebull-works. This is the land for such seamen—old England, hey, sir! and thosewho don’t like it, why let ’em leave it: that’s my toast, sir. But to the point, sir: my business is to negociate, look you, for a large family piece,—myself, my wife, and my boys and girls; a fine family, as you shall see, sir,—the same number as his Majesty’s, God bless him! Now, what is your charge for such a collection?—group, I think you painters call it.” “I cannot exactly answer that, within five hundred pounds or so,” replied the painter. “Wheugh-h-h!” whistled the banker. “What, sir, five hundred pounds?” “Such a subject requires study, sir, great studying—as how——” “Pooh! pooh! study, Mister Painter? true, sir, but you have not studiedCocker, sir, hey? ha, ha, ha!” “Why, sir, such a work requires consideration. I should like first to be allowed to see your family, sir—and then—how to dispose of so many persons—how to employ them, and—and—” “Oh, my good sir, I’ll save you that trouble; that is already settled, my good sir:—we are to be painted on our lawn, with a harpsichord, and all singingGod save the King.”
THE ALDERMAN’S LADY.
From a volume of theLiterary Gazette, 1826, we extract the following: “There are faces,” Hoppner observed, “without features, and features without faces.” An alderman’s lady says, “La! Mr. Hoppner, Sir John looks too grave.” “Why, madam, ’tis the only way to make a sitter escape looking like a fool.” “But why not make Sir John smile?” “Asmilein painting is agrin, and agrinis agrowl, and a growl is a bite—and I’ll not alter it,” said the half-mad, irritable painter; “and if ever I paint another subject, short of a Lord Mayor, I’ll be d—d!”
A COOL SITTER.
Hoppner was commissioned to paint a certain pompouspersonage, one of the cabinet of the king. The great man could not condescend to attend any painter; so it was to be taken at the great man’s house. It was to be awhole length. “Well, sir,” quoth the Right Honourable, as Mr. H. made his bow, “I have no time,sar, to give to your art, a—unless you can take a scheme of me at my breakfast.” The repast was already laid,—a steaming urn, coffee-pot, toast, rolls, muffins, chickens, and ham. The limner spread his arcana, and commenced to paint, as the great man commenced hisdéjeûnéby supplying his appetite with half a muffin, and a cut from the wing of a pullet, together with a slice of ham. This accomplished, and sipping his tea, without condescending to notice the artist, he seized the newspaper, took his reading-glass from his bosom, began dictating to his private secretary, gave orders to his cook for dinner, dictated again, sipped his tea; and with the cup hiding his chin, and the newspaper his cheek, pompously exclaimed, “I desire, Master Hoppner, that you proceed.” “I am going,” replied the indignant artist, who, stalking out of the room, left the great man all astounded at the haughty demeanour of a portrait painter.
JULIUS CÆSAR IBBETSON was born at Scarborough, in Yorkshire, in 1759; was apprenticed to a ship painter at Hull, and at an early age came to London, and practised his art. He painted landscapes, cattle, and some historical pieces. Benjamin West appropriately called him the Berghem of England; yet, like many other men of great ability, his genius was no match for poverty. Mr.Redgrave, in “A Century of Painters of the English School,” says: “He was one of the jolly companions of George Morland: like him he lived from hand to mouth; was employed by an inferior class of picture dealers, and made them his pot companions.” He published a whimsical book entitled “Humbugalogia,” in which he fully exposed the ignorance and tricks of professed picture dealers. Among other rather coarse, but very forcible, illustrations which it contained, was one to the following effect: “These people say they have a great love for the fine arts. Yes; just such a love as a butcher has for a fat ox.” After quitting London, this clever artist resided for some years in the lake districts of Westmoreland, which he left to settle at Masham. In 1817, whilst engaged in painting a favourite hunter of Lady Milbank’s, he took cold, which settled on his lungs, and terminated his existence on the 13th October, 1817.
THE TOPER’S REPLY.
According to “Notes and Queries” (vol. viii.N.S., p. 96), there is a local tradition that whilst Ibbetson was residing at Ambleside, he used often to ramble as far as the picturesque valley of Troutbeck, which is about four miles from Ambleside, to indulge in the double enjoyment of the sweet scenery around, and the “home brewed” within the humble ale-house there; and that, in commendation of the latter, he painted a sign with two faces, each “looking the character” admirably: the one being that of a stout, jolly-faced toper with rubicund nose, and the other that of a thin, white-faced, lantern-jawed teetotaler; and with labels from their mouths thus inscribed:—
“Thou mortal man, who liv’st by bread,What is it makes thy nose so red?”
“Thou mortal man, who liv’st by bread,What is it makes thy nose so red?”
“Thou mortal man, who liv’st by bread,What is it makes thy nose so red?”
“Thou mortal man, who liv’st by bread,
What is it makes thy nose so red?”
And,
“Thou silly oaf, with nose so pale,It is with drinking Birket’s ale.”
“Thou silly oaf, with nose so pale,It is with drinking Birket’s ale.”
“Thou silly oaf, with nose so pale,It is with drinking Birket’s ale.”
“Thou silly oaf, with nose so pale,
It is with drinking Birket’s ale.”
The painting has been supplanted by its title in plain letters, “The Mortal Man,” but the old people say they still remember the sign, and that it is now preserved in Carlisle.
THE RECOGNITION.
Ibbetson’s abilities attracted the notice of M. de Loutherbourg, who introduced him to Mons. Desenfans, of pictorial memory. An invitation to breakfast placed Ibbetson and Loutherbourg in Mons. Desenfans’ parlour, the walls of which were covered withchefs d’œuvreof art; and the judgment of the young painter was tried on the merits of the several masters. When coming to one which seemed to attract Ibbetson’s particular regard, Mons. Desenfans observed: “That, Mr. Ibbetson, is a very beautiful example of David Teniers.” There was a pause, Mons. Desenfans requested Ibbetson’s opinion; whose answer, after another pause, was: “That picture, sir?—that picture I painted!” Here was confusion worse confounded. The collector had been taken in: his judgment had been committed. The murder, however, was out; marks and circumstances proved the fact beyond doubt. The good-natured Loutherbourg endeavoured to “take up his mangled matter at the best:”—“He had frequently been deceived.” Nay, he went further, and told how, in his younger days, he had himself manufactured a few old masters. Whether or not this apology mended the business, we know not; but certain it is that poor Ibbetson was never again asked to breakfast with Mons. Desenfans.
HENRY INMAN was born at Utica, New York, 20th October, 1801. His parents were English. His father removed to the city of New York, in 1812, at which early date Inman’s taste for drawing was manifested, and cultivated to a certain extent at the day-school he attended. The arrival of Wertmuller’s picture ofDanæ, about the year 1814, first suggested the art to him as a profession. It was exhibited at Mr. Jarvis’s rooms, in Murray Street, and Inman gives the following account of his second visit to it:—
“On a second visit, when I went alone, I saw Mr. Jarvis himself, who came up from his painting room into the apartment in which theDanæ, with other works of art, were placed. On observing his entrance, with maulstick in his hand, and palette on his arm, I removed my hat and bowed, presuming that he was the master of the establishment. At that time I regarded an artist with peculiar reverence. Without noticing my salutation, he walked rapidly towards me, and, with his singular look of scrutiny, peered into my face. Suddenly he exclaimed, ‘By heavens, the very head for a painter!’ He then put some questions to me; invited me below stairs, and permitted me to examine his portfolios. He shortly after called upon my father, and proposed to take me as a pupil. I was at this time preparing for my entrance to the West Point Institution, as a cadet, for which I had already obtained a warrant. My father left the matter to myself, and I gladly accepted Mr. Jarvis’s proposal. I accordingly entered upon a seven years’ apprenticeship. Notwithstanding his phrenological observations upon my cranium, a circumstance connected with my first effort in oil colours would seem to contradict his favourable inference. Another of his students andmyself were set down before a small tinted landscape, with instructions to copy it. Palettes and brushes were put into our hands, and to work we went. After much anxious looking and laborious daubing, Mr. Jarvis came up to see what progress we had made. After regarding our work for some moments in silence, he astounded us with these words: ‘Get up! get up! These are the most infernal attempts I ever saw. Here, Philip! [turning to a mulatto boy, who was grinding paints in another part of the room], take the brushes, and finish what these gentlemen have begun so bravely!’ All this took place in the presence of several strangers, who had come to look at the gallery. You can imagine what a shock our self-love received. Such mortifications are the most enduring of all remembrances. Notwithstanding this rebuff, I managed to make other and more successful efforts.”
At the expiration of his apprenticeship, he married Miss O’Brien, and began business for himself as a portrait and miniature painter. It is stated that in this latter branch he was very successful, although he afterwards entirely abandoned it. On his removal to Philadelphia he painted a portrait of Mr. Rawle for the members of the bar of that city. At this gentleman’s house he saw a copy of Stuart’s celebrated portrait of Washington, of which he mentions the following anecdote:—
“Mr. R. informed me, while we were looking at the head of Washington, that on one occasion, when that great man dined at his house, he sat immediately beneath the picture, and that position gave Mr. R. ample opportunity to satisfy himself of the correctness of the resemblance. I was much pleased with this testimony in favour of its truth, as of late years an attempt has been made to impeach the justice of Stuart’s representation of Washington.”
In the midst of his success, Inman appears to have been discontented with city life; and throughout the journal which he kept, “intended,” as he says, “for the reception of miscellaneous notes on passing events,” we find interspersed, longings for the green fields. In a letter to a friend, he says: “I have always panted to live in the country, where I can be surrounded by something pleasanter to look upon than the everlasting brick walls of a city; ... and moreover, I shall then be better enabled to withdraw myself gradually from mere face-making: to practise in the more congenial departments of art—namely, landscape and historical painting.”
He suffered much from attacks of asthma, which visited him in the summer or autumn of every year, until his death. In 1841 he was attacked with more violence than he ever experienced before, and he describes his suffering with characteristic cheerfulness. He speaks of the grinding agony he endured as his “bosom fiend,” and compares it with the “vulture gnawing into the vitals of Prometheus.”
In February, 1842, we find him one of the guests at a dinner given to Mr. Chas. Dickens, at the Astor House; on which occasion Mr. Inman made a speech, from which it will be seen, though so great and so recent a sufferer from his complaint, he still retained his cheerful social qualities. The following is a part of the speech referred to:—
“I would invite your attention, sir, in the first place, to the great value which the arts of design must attach to the peculiar literature of the author we delight to honour in the person of our cherished guest; insomuch as it affords so many admirable themes for pictorial illustration. The great schools of art, of painting in particular, are divided into the classical, the romantic, and the picturesque, the last of which is by far the most popular and most cultivated inthis department of taste. The two first appeal for their sources of interest to associations connected with the history of the remote past; but the latter addresses itself to every feeling that links us to ‘the world we live in,’ with all its thrilling contrasts of happiness and misery, of vice and virtue.
“Mr. President, I will venture to claim for the writings of Mr. Dickens, in especial manner, this attribute of the picturesque. He has sought and found, in the humble walks of life, those unequalled scenes of pathos, of humour, and of sentiment, which so eminently characterize his productions. Passing by the abodes of wealth, luxury, and rank, where the passions are all concealed beneath the mask of cold convention, he has flashed the light of his genius upon the gloomy haunts of squalid poverty and suffering virtue, the dark dens of reckless guilt and crime, until every salient point of interest is revealed in a thousand glowing objects of contemplation to the student of morals, of human nature, and of art.
“Another quality which enhances the analogy which I have attempted to establish, is to be found in the graphic force of his delineations. For all the purposes of fame, his fictitious personages have already become intense realities. For instance: who does not firmly believe that those charming people, Messrs. Winkle, Tupman, Snodgrass & Co., are at this moment ‘Pickwicking’ it about London in veritable flesh and blood? Let me ask who that wears a heart does not weep over the memory of poor Nell, as over one we have known and loved in actual life?
“In conclusion, this picturesqueness, this artistic power, will, perhaps, sanction the parallel I have introduced in the toast I now beg leave to offer. I will give you, sir, the ‘Boz’ gallery of written pictures—may Charles Dickenslong live to add new master-pieces to the imperishable collection!”
On New Year’s Day, 1843, the following singular medley of mirth and melancholy is entered in his diary: “Stayed home all day. The zest and cream of life are gone. Two hundred thousand dollars and travelling would revive me—nothing else; ditto fishing.” On the 3rd January, he writes: “Fine prospect of starving to death this year. Not a soul comes near me for pictures. Ambition in art is gone. Give me a fortune, and I would fish and shoot for the rest of my life, without touching a brush again.”
In 1844 he came to England, when he was engaged to paint the portraits, among others, of Dr. Chalmers and Wordsworth. With respect to his visit to the latter, Inman, in a letter to a friend, says: “Mary and I had a very pleasant time in Westmoreland, I can assure you; fine weather, glorious scenery, and a very kind reception from the great poet. Mr. Wordsworth, who is now a hale old man of 75 years, accompanied me on one or two of my sketching excursions, for which I feel highly honoured, as he is not only a good poet, but a most intelligent and long-headed man in conversation.... I heard from Mr. Carey, of Philadelphia, who wishes me to paint for him the portrait of the celebrated writer, the Rt. Hon. Thos. B. Macaulay, M.P., instead of the fancy piece originally ordered, I have heard from the great man, and he, in a very complimentary note, has consented to sit in about five weeks. I shall then come up to London again for this purpose.”
Having finished the portrait of Macaulay, he thus writes to a friend:—
“You would have laughed to-day, could you have stood by and heard the courteous battle-royal of words which took place between me and my sitter—the witty, learned, and allaccomplished Mr. Macaulay, M.P. He is fond of taking the other side of the argument, even though ’tis paradoxical. He loves to differ and defend his difference, and he wields a well polished, logical Toledo, I can tell you! He is too well read and too intelligent to entertain many of the absurd opinions respecting our country and its institutions that are so rife in the English newspaper press: but still I find he loves to bring on a discussion of some one or other of those puzzling questions that belong to our side of the water, namely, state-sovereignty, repudiation, slavery, etc. I congratulate myself upon having met in him one of those persons of renown for brilliant writing, whose attainments as poet, scholar, and reviewer, cause him to stand amongst the highest in modern English literature. Will you believe it?Noodleas I am, and albeit unused to the controversial mood, I rather flatter myself that ‘this child’ held his own in the fight! One touch of fence I used (and ’tis a custom I am generally fond of) was never directly to answer a Socratic query, but always to evade it, by begging him to state his position affirmatively. It worked to a charm. However, we had a delightful sitting of it. Only think! I had double duty to perform—namely,fightwith theinsideof his head, andpainttheoutsideof it!”
In his letters from this time to that of his death, which took place in January, 1846, he constantly expresses the greatest anxiety respecting his pecuniary affairs. He found some professional employment, but barely enough to meet his expenses. He died of disease of the heart. He left a wife and five children. His kindness of heart, his intellectual attainments, his social accomplishments, his conversational power, his brilliant imagination, and his technical ability, were eulogized by the newspapers of all classes throughout the country.
CHARLES JERVAS was born in Ireland, in the year 1675, and studied under Sir Godfrey Kneller. By the generosity of a friend he was enabled to visit France and Italy, where he gave himself up to hard study in his art, and on his return to England his talent was soon recognised, and he became very popular. The line he chose was portrait painting. He also discovered considerable ability in literature. He published a translation ofDon Quixote; to which translation the celebrated Dr. Warburton added an appendix on the origin of Romances and of Chivalry. Jervas also gave instruction in the art of painting to Pope, with whom he was very intimate, and who has handed him down to posterity in his works. “Jervas was the last best painter Italy had sent us,” Pope used to observe. Jervas was also patronized by William and Queen Anne. He died on 3rd November, 1739.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
Burnet relates that when Reynolds’s sister asked him the reason why we never see any of the portraits of Jervas now, he replied, “Because, my dear, they are all up in the garret.” Yet, this man rode in his chariot and four, and received the praises of Pope in verse.
DR. ARBUTHNOT.
Jervas, who affected to be a free-thinker, was one day talking very irreverently of the Bible; Dr. Arbuthnot maintained to him that he was not only a speculative but a practical believer. The painter denied it: Arbuthnot said he would prove it. “You strictly observe the second commandment,” said the doctor; “for in your pictures youmake not the likeness of anything that is in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth.”
VANITY.
There is a very amusing anecdote of the painter’s inordinate vanity, contained in thePercy Anecdotes. The artist having succeeded happily in copying a picture of Titian, he looked first at the copy, and then at the original, and then with parental complacency exclaimed, “Poor little Tit! how he would stare!”
LADY BRIDGEWATER.
Being employed to paint the portrait of Lady Bridgewater, one of the greatest beauties of the age, he fell desperately in love with her. So deeply was his imagination smitten with the features of her enchanting face, that he reproduced them in all his portraits; and many a female was most agreeably surprised on discovering her unexpected resemblance to Lady Bridgewater. His love, however, was not so strong as his vanity, which he more than once displayed, even in the presence of his mistress. One day when she was sitting to him, he stopped short, and expatiated on her charms with all the enthusiasm of a lover; “But yet,” continued he, “I am forced to acknowledge that you have not a handsome ear.” “Have the goodness,” replied the lady, “to show me what you call a handsome ear.” “Here is one,” said Jervas, shoving aside his wig, and showing his own.
THE PAINTER’S GENEROSITY.
Jervas one day entered the shop of Carter, the statuary, in May Fair, and inspected a collection of models, etc. Carter was very industriously employed at the lowest branches ofhis profession, such as chiselling tombstones, grave-slabs, etc. After remaining a short time, Jervas commended his industry, and took his leave, apparently much pleased with the models, etc. A few days after Jervas called again, and after a few general observations, asked whether Carter was married, and whether he had any children. Being answered in the affirmative to both questions, he said bluntly, “Do you want any money, Mr. Carter?” “Want money? Lord love me! yes, I believe I do.” “Would a hundred pounds be of service to you?” “A hundred pounds! Why it would be the making of me for ever.” Jervas thereupon requested him to breakfast with him at his house the following morning. At the hour appointed Jervas received him with much politeness, and while at breakfast said, “Mr. Carter, I have for some time observed you as a young man of considerable talents and unremitting industry, and I am happy that Providence has put it into my power to assist your efforts. Here is the hundred pounds you seemed to think would be of service to you.”
HINTS TO POPE ON PAINTING.
There is an anecdote of Pope wishing to study painting, and applying to his friend Jervas for instruction in the art. Jervas readily consented, and having to leave town for a few days, gave the key of his painting-room to the poet, promising on his return to give his candid opinion on what Pope had done, and also suggest to him hints. On Jervas’s return, after making many general remarks on the Art, Pope interrupted him: “You tell me what I ought to do, but you have not given me your opinion of my picture. I know it’s very bad, and it gets worse and worse every day. I am sure it looked a deal better three or four days ago. Tell me the reason of this, and why the paint peels off in someplaces.” Jervas replied—“Colours change in drying; they get duller; some more, some less. Greens fade a great deal. Asphaltum gets much darker and heavier. Of the rest we should make allowance for these changes; so that the picture should not seem right when first painted, but should sink, fade, or dry to the hues required. The reason it peels off is, you have painted a coat of colour over an under one before it has dried and hardened, and the force of your brush thus rubbed it off. You should go over your colours as little as possible. A painter ought to study the natures of colours—have some knowledge of chemistry—should know what colours are transparent, and how much so—what are opaque, and what dry soon, such as umber; and what won’t, such as lake, brown-pink, etc. These last should be mixed with drying oil. All colours made from vegetables, such as lake and brown-pink, are apt to fly: all from metals, such as white lead and verdigris, are apt to change: but all earths, such as ochre, amber, etc., stand well. Clean your palette, when done with, with spirits of turpentine; also your brushes: and try to paint without dirtying yourself with the colours. The knowledge of and attention to a number of trifles, such as these, contributed to give Titian, Rubens, and Rembrandt, so much advantage over those who do not study such things.”
SIR GODFREY KNELLER was born at Lubeck about 1648. He was intended for the army; but his genius for painting being discovered, he was placed under Bol, at Amsterdam, after which he received instructions from Rembrandt. In 1672 he went to Italy; and while atVenice, painted the portraits of some families of distinction. From thence he came to England by the way of Hamburgh, and was employed to paint a portrait of Charles II., at the same time with Lely, who candidly bestowed praise upon his performance. This success fixed Kneller at the English court, where he painted seven sovereigns; besides three foreign ones. His principal patron was William III., who conferred on him the honour of knighthood, and engaged him to paint the Hampton Court beauties. His pencil was also employed on several of the pictures of the admirals in that palace, and the Kit-Cat Club. George I. created him a baronet. He was a man of wit, but excessively vain, as appeared in his gift of five hundred pounds to Pope, to write an extravagant epitaph for his monument in Westminster Abbey. He died very rich in 1723.—Walpole’s Anecdotes.
ROYAL PATRONAGE.
The ten sovereigns whom Kneller painted were the following: Charles II., James II., and his queen, William and Mary, Anne, George I., Louis XIV., the Czar Peter the Great, and the Emperor Charles VI.
DR. RADCLIFFE.
Sir Godfrey, when living next door to the famous Dr. Radcliffe, granted him permission to make a door into the painter’s garden, where there was a beautiful variety of flowers. But the physician’s servants taking unbecoming liberties on Kneller’s premises, he had to complain to their master. After many fruitless remonstrances Sir Godfrey sent his man one day to let the physician know that he should be obliged to brick up the passage; to which the cynic replied, with his accustomed asperity, “Let him do what hewill with the door, except painting it.” The servant was at first unwilling to communicate the exact answer, but Kneller insisted on knowing it, and retorted, “Did my good friend say so? Then you go back and tell him that I will take anything from him but his physic.”
ORIGIN OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB.
This club is said to have been founded by Jacob Tonson, the bookseller. However this may have been, he was certainly their secretary. He was an active man at all their meetings, and as a testimony of the good disposition of his illustrious friends towards him, they each presented him with their portraits. These were painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller. The club is reported to have derived its title from the name of the person at whose house the meetings were first held. This was one Christopher Cat, an obscure pastry-cook, who lived originally in Shire Lane, Temple Bar, but subsequently at the Fountain Tavern, Strand. The standing dish at supper was mutton pies: for the manufacture of which Mr. Cat had acquired considerable reputation. A different etymology of the club’s name has been assigned by Arbuthnot. In the following epigram, he seems to refer it to the custom of toasting ladies after dinner, peculiar to those gentlemen:—
“Whence deathless Kit-Cat took its name,Few critics can unriddle;Some say from pastry-cook it came,And some from cat and fiddle.From no trim beaux its name it boasts,Grey statesman or green wits;But from its pell-mell pack of toasts,Of old cats and young kits.”—Gentleman’s Magazine.
“Whence deathless Kit-Cat took its name,Few critics can unriddle;Some say from pastry-cook it came,And some from cat and fiddle.From no trim beaux its name it boasts,Grey statesman or green wits;But from its pell-mell pack of toasts,Of old cats and young kits.”—Gentleman’s Magazine.
“Whence deathless Kit-Cat took its name,Few critics can unriddle;Some say from pastry-cook it came,And some from cat and fiddle.
“Whence deathless Kit-Cat took its name,
Few critics can unriddle;
Some say from pastry-cook it came,
And some from cat and fiddle.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,Grey statesman or green wits;But from its pell-mell pack of toasts,Of old cats and young kits.”—Gentleman’s Magazine.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Grey statesman or green wits;
But from its pell-mell pack of toasts,
Of old cats and young kits.”
—Gentleman’s Magazine.
PORTRAIT PAINTING.
Sir Godfrey, who was principally eminent as a portrait-painter, after a long discourse upon the various schools of painting, concluded with, “Painters of history make the dead live, and do not themselves live till they be dead; I paint the living, and they make me live.”
CUT AT POPE.
The artist’s consciousness of his own skill was so well known that it exposed him frequently to the banter and irony of the wits, his friends. Pope, to pay him off, said to him after looking round a room full of beauties he had painted, “It’s a pity, Sir Godfrey, that you had not been consulted at the creation.” The artist threw his eyes strong upon Pope’s shoulders, and answered, “I should have made some better things.”
A COUNTRY SITTER.
A certain country family, whose reason for coming to town was the intention of having their pictures drawn, and principally that of the hopeful heir, brought him to the artist. Seeing that a little converse with the world would soon wear off his awkward rusticity, instead of drawing him in a green coat with spaniels, or in the more contemptible livery of a fop playing with a lapdog, the painter gave him a soul darting with proper spirit through the rusticity of his features. A gentleman met the mother and sisters coming down stairs the day it was finished, and found Sir Godfrey in a violent rage above: “Look there,” said he, pointing to a picture, “there is a fellow! I have put some sense into him, and none of his family know him.”
VANDYKE AND KNELLER.
There was a period, observed Sir Joshua Reynolds, whento name Vandyke in competition with Kneller was to incur human contempt. The character of the eighteenth century in England resembled that of the seventeenth in Italy. It was the age of English mediocrity, the reaction of that powerful burst of national genius that was developed by the civil wars and the revolution.
TONSON, THE BOOKSELLER.
Kneller was very covetous, very vain, and a great glutton. Tonson, the bookseller, got many pictures from him, it is related, by playing these passions against the other. He would tell the great painter that he was the greatest master that ever was, and send him every now and then a haunch of venison and a dozen of claret. “Oh!” said Kneller once to Vandergucht, “this old Jacob loves me; he is a very good man: you see he loves me, for he sends me good things, the venison was fat!” Kneller would say to Cock, the auctioneer, “I love you, Mr. Cock, and I will do you good; but you must do something for me too, Mr. Cock; one hand can wash the face, but two hands wash one another.”
THOMAS LAWRENCE was born in the city of Bristol, in May, 1769. He was the youngest of a family of sixteen children, and was remarkable from his infancy for his winning manners. His father took much pains in teaching the child passages from the poets, and at five years old he could repeat any speech in Milton’sPandemonium. The child was equally clever with his pencil; observing which, a Derbyshire baronet, struck with the boy’s genius, offered tosend him to Rome at an expense of £1000, but his father replied that “his son’s talents required no cultivation.” At so young an age of five years his drawings of eyes were so good as to make Fuseli remark with enthusiasm: “But, by G—t, he paints eyes better than Titian!” In 1785, young Lawrence received the Society of Arts Medal with five guineas for the most successful copy from the old masters, being a crayon drawing of the “Transfiguration” of Raphael; he also received “the greater silver palette gilt,” by special vote of the committee. Having become a student of the Royal Academy at the age of eighteen, he sent in the year 1787 the extraordinary number of seven pictures; in the following year he sent six portraits; thirteen in 1789, and twelve pictures in 1790. At the express desire of His Majesty, Lawrence was admitted an Associate of the Royal Academy, by the suspension of a law against the admission of an Associate under the age of twenty-four. Although supported by Sir Joshua Reynolds, his election was much opposed by several academicians. Shortly before Lawrence’s return in 1820 from Rome, where he had been engaged on the great work of painting the Allied Sovereigns, Benjamin West, the President of the Royal Academy, died full of honours. Lawrence was unanimously chosen to succeed him, and the King, in approval of the choice, added a superb gold chain and medal of himself. In addition to the honour of knighthood by the Prince Regent, and admission to the Academy of St. Luke, in Rome, he became, in 1817, a member of the American Academy of the Fine Arts. He was elected by the Academy of Florence, a member of the first class. The Academy of Venice added their election in 1823; that of Bologna followed; and Turin in 1826. He was also elected a member of the Imperial Academy at Vienna, and received the diploma of the Danish Academy; and finally made achevalier of the Legion of Honour, in France. He died on the 7th January, 1830.
ROYAL FAVOURS.
Lawrence received many valuable presents from foreign princes and nobles, as marks of admiration of the great painter’s genius: the following list was made out by his sister,—
“By the King of France (Charles X.), in the autumn of 1825, he was presented with the Legion of Honour (the medal or jewel of which is in my son John’s possession); a magnificent French clock, nearly two feet high; two superb green and gold china jars; and a dessert set of Sèvres porcelain, which Sir Thomas left to the Royal Academy.
“By the Emperor of Russia, a superb diamond ring, of great value.
“By the King of Prussia, a ring, with His Majesty’s initials, F. R., in diamonds.
“He likewise received presents from the foreign ministers assembled at Aix-la-Chapelle, where he painted all of them; from the Archduchess Charles and Princess Metternich at Vienna; from the Pope, a ring, and the Colosseum in mosaic, with his Holiness’ arms over the centre of the frame; from the Cardinal Gonsalvi, besides other presents, a gold watch, chain, and seals of intaglios, and many beautiful bonbonniere boxes of valuable stones set in gold, gold snuff-boxes, etc.; a fine gold snuff-box from Lord Whitworth, many years before.
“From the Dauphin, in 1825, a breakfast-set of porcelain, and a tea-tray painted with the court of Louis XIV.
“By Canova, at Rome, some magnificent casts, valuable engravings, etc.”
MISS FANNY KEMBLE.
In a letter to Mr. Angerstein, Lawrence gives his opinion of this celebrated actress’s successes in the following terms,—
“We have little stirring in town, one novelty excepted, which enlivens the evenings of this otherwise dull period. Your respect and regard for Mrs. Siddons and Mr. Kemble will make you glad to know that the genius and sense of both are recalled to us by the really fine acting of Miss Fanny Kemble, the daughter of their brother Charles. She is not quite nineteen, yet has so satisfied the judgment of the warmest patrons and ablest critics of the stage, that, in its worst season, she has drawn full houses (and continues to draw them) for upwards of twenty-two nights, three nights in each week, without intermission, to one of Shakespere’s finest, but certainly most hackneyed plays,Romeo and Juliet, and the boxes are already taken to Wednesday se’nnight.
“Her face is not regularly handsome, but she has a fine and flexible brow, with hair and eyes like Mrs. Siddons in her finest time. In stature she is rather short, but with such admirable courage and invariable grace of action, that on the stage she appears fully of woman’s height. Her voice is at once sweet and powerful; and blest with a clear ‘Kemble’ understanding (for it is peculiar to her family), she has likewise fine literary talent, having written a tragedy of great interest, besides lighter pieces of admirable verse. Her manner in private is characterized by ease, and that modest gravity which I believe must belong to high tragic genius, and which, in Mrs. Siddons, was strictly natural to her; though, from being peculiar in the general gaiety of society, it was often thought assumed.
“I have for many years given up the theatre (not going above once or twice in the year), but this fine genius hasdrawn me often to it, and each time to witness improvement and new beauties. If she is not taken from the stage, there is probability that she may remain on it a fine actress for twenty years, and thus have supported the ascendency of one family in the highest department of the drama for upwards of twenty years!”
HOAXING LAWRENCE.
Mr. John Bernard, in his “Retrospections of the Stage,” gives the following anecdote of Lawrence’s cleverness in sketching likenesses at the early age of nine years:—
“The young artist collected his materials very quickly, and essayed my visage the first. In about ten minutes he produced a faithful delineation in crayon, which for many years I kept as a curiosity. He next attempted Edwin’s, who, startled at the boy’s ability, resolved (in his usual way) to perplex him. This he did by changing the form of his features—raising his brows, compressing his lips, and widening his mouth. Tom no sooner perceived the change than he started in supreme wonder, attributing it to a defect in his own vision. The first outline was accordingly abandoned, and a second commenced. Tom was now more particular, and watched him narrowly; but Edwin, feature by feature, and muscle by muscle, so completely ran, what might be called the gamut of his countenance (as the various compartments of its harmony), that the boy drew and rubbed it out, till his hand fell by his side, and he stood silently looking in Edwin’s face, to discover, if possible, its true expression. Edwin could not long maintain his composure at his scrutiny, and revealed the hoax with a burst of merriment and mimic thunder.”
FUSELI’S ENVY.
In Lawrence’s great picture of “Satan addressing the Fallen Angels,” Fuseli complained that the figure of Satan was his own—that Lawrence had copied some one of his designs. The following account of the matter, however, was given by Lawrence in a conversation with Cunningham, and seems a sufficient explanation:—
“Fuseli, sir, was the most satirical of human beings; he had also the greatest genius for art of any man I ever knew. His mind was so essentially poetic that he was incapable of succeeding in any ordinary object, That figure of Satan, now before you, occasioned the only interruption which our friendship of many years’ standing ever experienced. He was, you know, a great admirer of Milton, from whom he had many sketches. When he first saw my Satan, he was nettled, and said, ‘You borrowed the idea from me!—‘In truth, I did take the idea from you,’ I said; ‘but it was from your person, not from your paintings. When we were together at Stackpole Court, in Pembrokeshire, you may remember how you stood on yon high rock which overlooks the bay of Bristol, and gazed down upon the sea, which rolls so magnificently below. You were in raptures; and while you were crying “Grand! Grand! Jesu Christ, how grand! how terrific!” you put yourself in a wild posture. I thought on the devil looking into the abyss, and took a slight sketch of you at the moment: here it is. My Satan’s posture now, was yours then.’”
HIS PROFESSIONAL PRACTICE.
Allan Cunningham gives the following description of the habits and practice of the great artist:—
“He rose early, and he worked late; for though no oneexcelled more in rapid sketches, he had a true enthusiasm for his art, and would not dismiss hastily anything for which he was to be paid as a picture. He detained his sitters often for three hours at a time; had generally eight or nine of these sittings; and all the while studied their looks anxiously, and seemed to do nothing without care and consideration. His constant practice was to begin by making a drawing of the head, full-size, on canvas, carefully tracing in dimensions and expression. This took up one day; on the next he began to paint—touching in the brows, the nose, the eyes, and the mouth, and finally the bounding line, in succession. Lawrence sometimes, nay often, laid aside the first drawing of a head, and painted on a copy. This was from his fear of losing the benefit of first impressions, which in such cases are often invaluable. It may be added that he stood all the while, and was seldom so absorbed in his undertaking that he did not converse with his sitter, and feel either seriousness or humour, whilst giving thought to the brow, or beauty to the cheek. He adhered to the old rule of receiving half payment at the beginning of a portrait.
“The distinguished person who favoured him withforty sittingsfor his head alone, was Sir Walter Scott. The picture was painted for George IV., and Lawrence was anxious to make the portrait the best of any painted from so celebrated a character.
“At other times, however, he was as dexterous as any artist. He once told Burnet that he painted the portrait of Curran inone day: he came in the morning, remained to dinner, and left at dusk; or, as Lawrence expressed it, quoting his favourite author