‘From morn till noon,From noon till dewy eve.’
‘From morn till noon,From noon till dewy eve.’
‘From morn till noon,From noon till dewy eve.’
‘From morn till noon,
From noon till dewy eve.’
“The following were his progressive prices:—
“The following were his latest prices:—
“For a head-size, or three-quarters, the great painter received £210; for a kit-cat, £315; for a half-length, £420; for a bishop, half-length, £525; and for a full-length, £630; for an extra full-length, £735.
“Lord Gower paid Lawrence fifteen hundred guineas for his admirable portrait of his lady and child; and six hundred guineas was the sum paid by Lord Durham for his portrait of Master Lambton.”
JOHN STEPHEN LIOTARD was born in the year 1702, at Genoa, At first he studied without instruction, but in 1715 he visited Paris, and became a pupil of the celebrated Massé. Here he attracted the notice of the Court painter, Lemoine, who introduced him to the Marquis Puysieux, and he afterwards accompanied that nobleman to Naples. Here he employed himself in painting miniatures on ivory. He afterwards visited Rome and painted portraits of the Pope and the Stuart family. In 1738 he accompanied Lord Duncannon to Constantinople. During his residence here he allowed his beard to grow, and adopted the Turkish costume, which he never afterwards relinquished. In 1742he was summoned by the Prince of Moldavia to Jassy, and after a short time there, proceeded to Vienna, where he was patronized by the Empress Maria Theresa, who rewarded him richly for his portraits of the imperial family. He again returned to Paris, and his magnificent beard and oriental dress made him for a time the lion of that capital, and procured him the bye-name of “The Turkish Painter.” Among the ladies who entrusted him with their portraits was the celebrated Madame Pompadour, who was by no means satisfied with the likeness, Liotard having followed nature so closely as to reproduce even freckles and other accidental blemishes. From Paris he repaired to London. The best picture he executed in England was that of the Princess of Wales and her sons. Perhaps his most popular painting is that of “The Chocolate Girl,” which is seen on fire-screens, snuff-boxes, articles of porcelain, etc. In 1756 he visited Holland, and sacrificed his long-cherished beard on the altar of Hymen, without, however, laying aside his Turkish dress. In 1772 he returned to England, painting numerous portraits, principally in crayons. His works in enamel, etc., are very numerous, and are to be found in the various private and public collections of almost every country in Europe. He died in the year 1776.
HENRY LIVERSEEGE was born at Manchester, in September, 1803. Of humble parentage, he was indebted to the benevolent care of an uncle for a liberal education. His career as an artist began with copying fine paintings of old masters. With the exception of a fewvisits to London, he passed the whole of his life in his native town of Manchester. When in London he received considerable attention from those to whom his genius was known; among others, from Etty, the R.A. Heath, appreciating his genius, gave him a commission to paint twelve subjects for the “Book of Beauty,” which, however, he did not live to commence. His paintings, which appeared at the Society of British Artists in London, attracted general approval and admiration; but in January 1832, before the completion of his twenty-ninth year, this promising artist breathed his last.
A DEAR MODEL.
“Henry Liverseege had the soul and sense to take nature for his everlasting model; when he originated, he originated out of the heart of life; when he illustrated, he made life sit for his illustrations. In his paintings from Shakspeare, Scott, Gay, and Butler, and more especially in the more difficult of them, he always procured living models. Take, for instance, the two subjects of ‘Christopher Sly and the Hostess,’ and ‘The Black Dwarf,’ two of his most admirable paintings: we have it on record that even for these he found life representatives, and the anecdotes that attach to each picture are sufficiently amusing. As regards Christopher Sly, it was long before he could find such a cobbler as he desired. At length he met with a man he thought would suit; and, having placed him in his studio, set down a bottle of gin beside him, saying, ‘Drink whenever you please.’ The spirit of the cobbler, being one of those that must lie in sleep some time, and become half corrupted before it rises, refused to stir; he sat sober as a worshipful judge upon the bench. Another bottle of gin disappeared in the same way as the former, but the son of Crispin satsteady as ever. ‘Begone!’ exclaimed the painter in a passion; ‘it will cost me more to make you drunk than the picture will procure me!’
“‘The Black Dwarf,’ it will readily be believed, was a sort of poser in the way of tumbling upon an original; but notwithstanding the difficulty of procuring a sitter sufficiently hideous or misshapen, he at last discovered a miserable dwarf who afterwards sat to him, and displayed on the completion of his likeness, great wrath and indignation at what he considered the malicious mode in which his person was delineated: he would not believe that it was anything likehim, and left the room unpaid, in high dudgeon, grumbling hoarsely as far as he could be heard,—for this fragment of humanity had the voice of a giant.”
PHILIP JAMES DE LOUTHERBOURG, a distinguished landscape painter, was born at Strasburg, in the month of October, 1740. His father, who was a miniature painter, gave him a superior education. He at first studied with Tischbein, then under Casanova, who, at that time, was much admired as an historical painter. But Loutherbourg’s peculiarfortelay in landscape. He obtained considerable reputation at Paris, and exhibited his works at the Louvre. He was admitted a member of the French Academy in the year 1768. Having come over to England, he was, in the year 1771, elected a Royal Academician, and was for some short time engaged as scene-painter at the Opera House. Soon after his settling in England, hegot up, under the name of the “Eidophusikon,” a novel and highly interesting exhibition, displaying the changes of the elements and their phenomena in a calm, by moonlight, at sunset, and in a storm at sea. This pictorial contrivance anticipated our present dioramas, although upon a smaller scale. It has been said of this painter: “His vigorous style of execution, poetical imagination, and his perfect knowledge of scenic effect, well qualified him for a department of art which demands them all, and which is held to be a subordinate one, chiefly because its productions are soon laid aside, and entirely forgotten.” He died at Hammersmith, March 11th, 1812, in his seventy-third year.
GILRAY.
The following is an extract from Holcroft’s Diary:—“Went with Geiseveiller to see the picture of the ‘Siege of Valenciennes,’ by Loutherbourg. He went to the scene of action accompanied by Gilray, a Scotchman, famous among the lovers of caricature; a man of talents, however, and uncommonly apt at sketching a hasty likeness. One of the merits of the picture is the portraits it contains, English and Austrian. The Duke of York is the principal figure, as the supposed conqueror; and the Austrian general, who actually directed the siege, is placed in a group, where, far from attracting attention, he is but just seen. The picture has great merit; the difference of costume, English and Austrian, Italian, etc., is picturesque. The horse drawing a cart in the foreground has that faulty affected energy of the French school, which too often disgraces the works of Loutherbourg. Another picture by the same artist, as a companion to this, is the ‘Victory of Lord Howe on the 1st of June.’ Both werepainted at the expense of Mechel, printseller at Basle, and of V. and R. Green, purposely for prints to be engraved from them. For the pictures they paid £500 each, besides the expenses of Gilray’s journeys to Valenciennes, Portsmouth, etc.”
LOUTHERBOURG’S ECCENTRICITY.
One day, when he was painting, he observed his footman driving a poor, half-starved cat out of the area. He immediately called out, “John, bring the cat back.” “He was stealing a piece of meat, sir.” “Then he is hungry, and you must feed him.” “Sir, he has got the mange.” “Then the animal has a double claim on our commiseration. Bring him back, and you must feed and cure him too; and when he is cured, let me see him. I have an excellent receipt to cure that complaint.”
ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING.
On another occasion, he was painting a snake pursuing a traveller, and could not please himself in regard to the attitude. He rang the bell for John, and, on his appearance, immediately caught him by the collar. The footman started back. “Your attitude is excellent,” cried his master. “That is all I wanted.”
JOHN OPIE, born May, 1761, was a native of Truro, in Cornwall, where his father resided in an obscure situation. Dr. Wolcot took a fancy to the boy, and finding he had a turn for painting, the doctor employedhim to paint his own portrait, and recommended others. This employment enabled Opie to save £30, which he brought to London, and soon became noticed as a genius of the first order. Success now smiled on his labours. Through Mrs. Delaney, the young artist was presented to His Majesty, who bought some pictures of him. In 1786 he was known as an exhibitor at Somerset House, soon after which he aspired to academical honours. He accordingly became, first, an Academician Elect, and then a Royal Academician. When the Royal Institution was formed, it became necessary that an artist should be found out who could deliver lectures on the subject of painting, and Opie was accordingly selected for that purpose. On the appointment of Fuseli to the office of Keeper of the Academy, Opie was elected without any difficulty to the vacant Professorship. He was twice married. The first was a most unhappy union; for the wife, within a few years after marriage, encouraged a paramour, which led to a separation and a lawsuit. His next match was formed under more propitious circumstances. He became united to Miss Alderson, of Norwich, who is said to have possessed a fine taste for poetry and music. There was no child of either marriage. While enjoying high reputation in his art, he was suddenly seized with a mortal disease, and expired April 9, 1807.
THE AFFECTED SITTER.
When a lady whose portrait he was painting was mustering all hersmilesto look charming, the irritated artist could endure the constrained and affected features no longer; but starting up, and throwing down his brush, exclaimed, in his broad style, “I tell ye what it is, ma’am, if ye grin so I canna draw ye.”
JOSHUA REYNOLDS was born in July, 1723. His father, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds, was much esteemed for his urbane and benevolent disposition, and possessed much keen humour. At the early age of eight years, Joshua gave promise of that genius which in subsequent life gained him such eminence, and so well entitled him to be regarded as “the Founder of the British School of Painting.” It was in 1735, when the young artist was but eleven years of age, that he painted his first portrait, that of the Rev. Thomas Smart. This portrait is represented to have been painted from a drawing taken in church on the artist’s thumbnail. The celebrated portrait painter, Hudson, had Joshua for his articled pupil, with whom he received a premium of £120, and who soon displayed signs of his after excellence in the line of face painting. He started for Rome in the year 1749. Afterwards he visited Bologna, Genoa, Parma, Florence, and Venice, returning to and establishing himself in England in 1752. From this time Reynolds had abundant employment, and his celebrity advanced in proportion. Although since his return from his travels, Hudson, the former master of Reynolds, with many others, expressed the opinion that he did not paint so well as before he left England, they all candidly confessed within a very short time the error of their opinion. After enjoying a career of unusual success and prosperity, this eminent artist, after a long illness, died on the 23rd of February, 1792, in the 69th year of his age.
ASTLEY.
John Astley was a fellow-pupil of Reynolds in the school of Hudson. They were also companions at Rome. Beingvery poor and proud, Astley suffered much through his sensitive temperament in trying to conceal from his companions his narrow circumstances. Being one of a party, which included Reynolds, on a country excursion, it was agreed through the heat of the weather to relieve themselves by walking without their coats. After much persuasion, poor Astley removed his coat with considerable reluctance, when it was discovered he had made the back of his waistcoat out of one of his own landscapes; and his coat being taken off, he displayed a foaming waterfall, which gave much mirth to his companions, though to the poor artist much pain.
REYNOLDS ON ART.
Dr. Tucker, Dean of Gloucester, observed in the great artist’s hearing that a pin-maker was a more useful and valuable member of society than Raffaelle. “That,” retorted Reynolds, “is an observation of a very narrow mind,—a mind that is confined to the mere object of commerce,—that sees with a microscopic eye but a part of the great machine of the economy of life, and thinks that small part which he sees to be the whole. Commerce is the means, not the end, of happiness or pleasure; the end is a rational enjoyment by means of the arts and sciences.”
JOHNSON’S PORTRAIT.
In 1775 Reynolds painted that portrait of Dr. Johnson which represents him as reading and near-sighted. This was very displeasing to Johnson, who, when he saw it, reproved Sir Joshua for painting him in that manner and attitude, saying, “It is not friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of any man.” But, on the contrary, Sir Joshua himself esteemed it a circumstancein nature to be remarked as characterizing the person represented, and therefore as giving additional value to the portrait. Of this circumstance, Mrs. Thrale says, “I observed that he would not be known by posterity for his defects only, let Sir Joshua do his worst;” and when she adverted to his own picture painted with the ear trumpet, and done in this year for Mr. Thrale, she records Johnson to have answered, “He may paint himself as deaf as he chooses, but I will not beBlinking Sam.”
REYNOLDS’S SUNDAYS.
Sir Joshua was wont to say: “He will never make a painter, who looks for the Sunday with pleasure, as an idle day;” and his pocket journals form ample proof that it was his habit to receive sitters on Sundays as on other days. This much displeased Dr. Johnson; and Boswell says the doctor made three requests of Sir Joshua a short time before his death: one was to forgive him £30, which he had borrowed of Sir Joshua; another was that Sir Joshua would carefully read the Scriptures; and lastly, that he would abstain from using his pencil in future on the Sabbath-day.
DR. JOHNSON.
“At the time when Sir Joshua resided in Newport Street, he, one afternoon, accompanied by his sister Frances, paid a visit to the Misses Cotterell, who lived much in the fashionable world. Johnson was also of the party on this tea visit, and at that time being very poor, he was, as might be expected, rather shabbily and slovenly apparelled. The maid-servant by accident attended at the door to let them in, but did not know Johnson, although he had been a frequent visitor at the house, he having always been attended by the man-servant. Johnson was the last of the three thatcame in, when the servant maid, seeing this uncouth and dirty figure of a man, and not conceiving he could be one of the company who came to visit her mistresses, laid hold of his coat just as he was going upstairs, and pulled him back again, saying, ‘You fellow, what is your business here? I suppose you intended to rob the house.’ This most unlucky accident threw poor Johnson into such a fit of shame and anger, that he roared out like a bull; for he could not immediately articulate, and was with difficulty at last able to utter, ‘What have I done? What have I done?’ Nor could he recover himself for the remainder of the evening from this mortifying circumstance.”
GARRICK’S PLEASANTRY.
David Garrick sat many times to Reynolds for different portraits. At one of these sittings he gave a very lively account of his having sat once for his portrait to an indifferent painter, whom he wantonly teased; for when the artist had worked on the face till he had drawn it very correctly, as he saw it at the time, Garrick caught an opportunity, whilst the painter was not looking at him, totally to change his countenance and expression, when the poor painter patiently worked on to alter the picture, and make it like what he then saw; and when Garrick perceived that it was thus altered, he seized another opportunity, and changed his countenance to a third character, which when the poor tantalized artist perceived, he in a great rage, threw down his palette and pencils, saying he believed he was painting from the devil, and would do no more to the picture.
DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.
Reynolds took snuff so freely when painting, as to cause much inconvenience to some of his distinguished sitters.Northcote relates that when the artist was painting the large picture at Blenheim, of the Marlborough family, the duchess ordered a servant to bring a broom and sweep the snuff from off the carpet; but Reynolds desired the servant to let the snuff remain until he had finished the painting, observing that the dust raised by the broom would do more injury to his picture than the snuff could possibly do to the carpet.
POPE.
Reynolds, when seventeen years old, saw Pope at an auction room. On the celebrated writer’s approach, those assembled made way and formed an avenue for him to pass through, which show of respect Pope acknowledged by bowing several times. He was about four feet six inches in height, was very humpbacked, wore a black coat, and had on a little sword. The artist describes him as having a fine eye, and a long, handsome nose; his mouth had those peculiar marks which are always found in the mouths of crooked persons; and the muscles which run across the cheek were so strongly marked as to appear like small cords.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Reynolds had so great admiration for the genius of M. Angelo, that he never lost an opportunity of doing justice to the great Italian’s merits. He thus expressed himself in his last discourse he delivered at the Royal Academy:—“I feel a self-congratulation in knowing myself capable of such sensations as he intended to excite; I reflect, not without vanity, that these discourses bear testimony of my admiration of that truly divine man; and I should desire that the last words which I should pronounce in this Academy, and from this place, might be the name of Michael Angelo.”
REYNOLDS’S STUDY.
Allan Cunningham gives the following:—
“Sir Joshua’s study was octagonal, some twenty feet long, sixteen broad, and about fifteen feet high. The window was small and square, and the sill nine feet from the floor. His sitter’s chair moved on casters, and stood above the floor a foot and a half. He held his palettes by handles, and the sticks of his brushes were eighteen inches long. He wrought standing, and with great celerity. He rose early, breakfasted at nine, entered his study at ten, examined designs or touched unfinished portraits till eleven brought a sitter, painted till four, then dressed, and gave the evening to company.”
DR. JOHNSON’S OPINION OF ARTISTS.
Before Johnson’s intimate acquaintance with Reynolds, he thus writes to his friend, Baretti;—“They (meaning the artists) please themselves much with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the English school will rise in reputation. This exhibition has filled the heads of the artists and lovers of art,”—and further on he adds, “surely life, if it be not long, is tedious, since we are forced to call in the assistance ofso many triflesto rid us of our time,—of that time which never can return!” When Dr. Johnson became acquainted and intimate with Reynolds, he was induced to alter the above opinion, and to highly esteem the virtues and talents of Sir Joshua, as well as to admire the Art he professed; for on the third exhibition of the works of modern artists, Johnson wrote an apologetical advertisement for the catalogue, at which time the artists ventured upon the bold experiment of charging one shilling admittance each person, which has remained the customarycharge for admission to exhibitions of art to the present time.
REYNOLDS’S DISCOURSES.
On one of the evenings when Sir Joshua delivered his discourses at the Academy, and when the audience was, as usual, numerous, and composed principally of the learned and great, the Earl of C——, who was present, came up to him, saying, “Sir Joshua, you read your discourse in so low a tone, that I could not distinguish one word you said.” To which the president with a smile replied, “That was to my advantage.”
GARRICK’S PORTRAITS.
The artist had it long in contemplation to paint a picture of an extensive composition purposely to display the various powers of Garrick as an actor. The principal figure in the front was to have been a full length of Garrick, in his own proper habit, in the action of speaking a prologue, surrounded by groups of figures representing him in all the different characters, by personifying which he had gained some fame on the stage.
This scheme Sir Joshua described to Garrick at the time he was painting his portrait; and Garrick expressed great pleasure when he heard it, and seemed to enjoy the idea prodigiously, saying, “That will be the very thing I desire; the only way that I can indeed be handed down to posterity.”
SIR JOSHUA’S GENEROSITY.
“What do you ask for this sketch?” said Sir Joshua to an old picture dealer, whose portfolio he was looking over. “Twenty guineas, your honour.” “Twenty pence, I suppose you mean?” “No, sir; it is true I would have taken twentypence for it this morning; but if you think it worth looking at, all the world would think it worth buying.” Sir Joshua ordered him to send the sketch home, and gave him the twenty guineas.
AN EPICURE’S ADVICE.
At a venison feast, Sir Joshua Reynolds addressed his conversation to one of the company who sat next to him, but to his great surprise could not get a single word in answer, until at length his silent neighbour, turning to him, said, “Mr. Reynolds, whenever you are at a venison feast, I advise you not to speak during dinner-time, as in endeavouring to answer your questions, I have just swallowed a fine piece of fat, entire, without tasting its flavour.”
LORD MANSFIELD.
One day when Lord Mansfield was sitting, Sir Joshua Reynolds asked him his opinion, if he thought it was a likeness;—when his lordship replied that it was totally out of his power to judge of its degree of resemblance, as he had not seen his own face in any looking-glass during the last thirty years of his life; for his servant always dressed him and put on his wig, which therefore rendered it quite unnecessary for him to look at himself in a mirror.
LOUIS FRANCIS ROUBILIAC was born at Lyons, in France, in the year 1695. By long residence in England, and the encouragement afforded for the development of his talents, he is claimed as forming one of thesculptors of the English School. His first public employment was obtained through the recommendation of Sir Edward Walpole. This was soon after followed by a commission to execute the monument of John, Duke of Argyle, which when finished, was the largest of Roubiliac’s works. The merits of this monument caused the sculptor to be patronized widely, and indeed to be more resorted to than any other in the profession. After an absence from England on the continent fer a few years,—where he had been to study some of the great works in sculpture,—he returned fully sensible of the simplicity and grandeur of the antique; for on beholding those of his own works, which had been so highly praised, he is said to have exclaimed, “Tobacco-pipes, by Jove!” Roubiliac died on the 11th January, 1762.
GOLDSMITH.
Goldsmith had the habit of boasting that he could play on the German flute as well as most men; and at other times as well as any man living; but in truth he understood not the character in which music is written, and played on that instrument as many others do, merely by ear. Roubiliac once heard him play, and minding to put a trick upon him, pretended to be charmed with his performance, as also that he himself was skilled in the art, and entreated him to repeat the air that he might write it down. Goldsmith readily consenting, Roubiliac called for paper and scored thereon a few five-line staves, which having done, Goldsmith proceeded to play, and Roubiliac to write; but his writing was only such random notes on the lines and spaces, as any one might set down who had ever inspected a page of music. When they had both done, Roubiliac showed the paper to Goldsmith, who looked over it withseeming great attention, said it was very correct, and that if he had not seen him do it, he never could have believed his friend capable of writing music after him.
ROUBILIAC’S HONESTY.
When a young man in the humble situation of a journeyman to a person of the name of Carter, Roubiliac had spent an evening at Vauxhall, and on his return towards home he picked up a pocket-book containing bank notes to a considerable amount, also some private papers of consequence to the owner. He immediately advertised the circumstance; a claimant soon appeared, who was so struck with the honest conduct and genius of Roubiliac, that he promised to befriend him in future. The owner of the pocket-book was Sir Edward Walpole; and the only present the honest and gentlemanly pride of the artist would allow him to receive was a fat buck annually.
BERNINI.
On Roubiliac’s return from Rome he paid a visit to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and expressed himself in raptures on what he had seen on the continent,—on the exquisite beauty of the works of antiquity,—and the captivating and luxuriant splendour of Bernini. “It is natural to suppose,” said he, “that I was infinitely impatient till I had taken a survey of my own performances in Westminster Abbey; after having seen such a variety of excellence, and by G—, my own work looked to me meagre and starved as if made of nothing but tobacco-pipes.”
LORD SHELBURNE.
Roubiliac being on a visit in Wiltshire, happened to take a walk in a churchyard on a Sunday morning, near Bowood, just as the congregation was coming out of church. Meetingwith old Lord Shelburne, though perfect strangers to each other, they entered into conversation, which ended in an invitation to dinner. When the company were all assembled at table, Roubiliac discovered a fine antique bust of one of the Roman empresses which stood over a side-table. Whereupon running up to it with much enthusiasm, he exclaimed, “What an air! what a pretty mouth! whattout ensemble!” The company began to stare at one another for some time, and Roubiliac regained his seat; but instead of eating his dinner, or showing attention to anything about him, he every now and then burst out in fits of admiration in praise of the bust. The guests by this time concluding he was mad, began to retire one by one, till Lord Shelburne was almost left alone, This determined his lordship to be a little more particular, and he now, for the first time, asked him his name, “My name!” replied the other, “what, do you not know me then? my name is Roubiliac.” “I beg your pardon,” said his lordship; “I now feel that I should have known you.” Then calling on the company who had retired to the next room, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, you may come in; this is no absolute madman, this is M. Roubiliac, the greatest statuary of his day, and only occasionally mad in the admiration of his art.”
DR. JOHNSON.
Roubiliac desired of Sir Joshua Reynolds that he would introduce him to Dr. Johnson, at the time when the doctor lived in Gough Square, Fleet Street. His object was to prevail on Johnson to write an epitaph for a monument on which Roubiliac was engaged for Westminster Abbey. Sir Joshua accordingly introduced him to the doctor, they being strangers to each other. Johnson received him with much civility, and took them up into a garret which heconsidered as his library, in which, besides his books all covered with dust, there was an old crazy deal table, and a still worse and older elbow chair, having only three legs. In this chair Johnson seated himself, after having with considerable dexterity and evident practice first drawn it up against the wall, which served to support it on that side on which the leg was deficient. He then took up his pen and demanded what they wanted him to write. On this Roubiliac, who was a true Frenchman, began a most bombastic and ridiculous harangue on what he thought should be the kind of epitaph most proper for the purpose, all which the doctor was to write down for him in correct language; when Johnson, who could not suffer any one to dictate to him, quickly interrupted him in an angry tone of voice, saying, “Come, come, sir, let us have no more of this bombastic, ridiculous rhodomontade, but let us know, in simple language, the name, character, and quality of the person whose epitaph you intend to have me write.”
ROUBILIAC’S POETIC EFFUSIONS.
At the Exhibition of Works of Art, opened in May, 1764, the following appeared in theSt. James’s Chroniclefrom the pen of the sculptor:—
“Prétendu connoisseur qui sur l’antique glose,Idolatrant le nom sans connoître la chose,Vrai peste des beaux arts, sans goût, sans équité,Quittez ce ton pedant, ce méprise affectéPour tout ce que le tems n’a pas encore gâté.“Ne peus-tu pas, en admirantLes maîtres de Grèce, et ceux de l’Italie,Rendre justice égalementA ceux qu’a nourris ta patrie?“Vois ce salon, et tu perdrasCette prévention injuste.Et bien, étonné, conviendrasQu’il ne faut pas qu’un MécénasPour revoir le siècle d’Auguste.”
“Prétendu connoisseur qui sur l’antique glose,Idolatrant le nom sans connoître la chose,Vrai peste des beaux arts, sans goût, sans équité,Quittez ce ton pedant, ce méprise affectéPour tout ce que le tems n’a pas encore gâté.“Ne peus-tu pas, en admirantLes maîtres de Grèce, et ceux de l’Italie,Rendre justice égalementA ceux qu’a nourris ta patrie?“Vois ce salon, et tu perdrasCette prévention injuste.Et bien, étonné, conviendrasQu’il ne faut pas qu’un MécénasPour revoir le siècle d’Auguste.”
“Prétendu connoisseur qui sur l’antique glose,Idolatrant le nom sans connoître la chose,Vrai peste des beaux arts, sans goût, sans équité,Quittez ce ton pedant, ce méprise affectéPour tout ce que le tems n’a pas encore gâté.
“Prétendu connoisseur qui sur l’antique glose,
Idolatrant le nom sans connoître la chose,
Vrai peste des beaux arts, sans goût, sans équité,
Quittez ce ton pedant, ce méprise affecté
Pour tout ce que le tems n’a pas encore gâté.
“Ne peus-tu pas, en admirantLes maîtres de Grèce, et ceux de l’Italie,Rendre justice égalementA ceux qu’a nourris ta patrie?
“Ne peus-tu pas, en admirant
Les maîtres de Grèce, et ceux de l’Italie,
Rendre justice également
A ceux qu’a nourris ta patrie?
“Vois ce salon, et tu perdrasCette prévention injuste.Et bien, étonné, conviendrasQu’il ne faut pas qu’un MécénasPour revoir le siècle d’Auguste.”
“Vois ce salon, et tu perdras
Cette prévention injuste.
Et bien, étonné, conviendras
Qu’il ne faut pas qu’un Mécénas
Pour revoir le siècle d’Auguste.”
WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND was born in London in the year 1732. He was placed at an early age under Ravenet, with whom he made much progress in the art. At the expiration of his apprenticeship he went over to Paris, and lived with Boucher between four and five years. On leaving Paris, he started for Rome, where he studied some time. On his return to England, where his fame had preceded him, he was welcomed and courted by all members of his profession. He was soon employed by the favourite minister, the Earl of Bute, and being introduced to their majesties, he was honoured by the appointment of Engraver to the King. To extricate himself from some embarrassments, he committed an extensive forgery upon the East India Company, for which he was tried and executed in the year 1783.
MAGNANIMITY.
It is stated of this artist that while awaiting his trial he so conciliated the friendship of the governor of Bridewell that he not only had the liberty of the whole house and garden, but when the other prisoners were locked up of an evening, the governor used to take Ryland out with him. His friends concerted a plan by which he was to take advantage of this indulgence to effect his escape. But when this was mentionedto the prisoner he seemed much affected at the proposal. He protested that if he was at that moment to meet his punishment, he would embrace it with all its terrors rather than betray a confidence so humanely given. This resolution he adhered to, and ultimately preferred the risk of death to a breach of friendship.
SELF-POSSESSION.
On the forgery being discovered, a reward of five hundred pounds was offered for his apprehension. Large placards mentioning this high reward, and giving a close description of his person, were posted all over the town. Ryland had secreted himself at a friend’s house in the neighbourhood of Wapping. Notwithstanding that the detectives were all alert, he would venture out after dark. In crossing Little Tower Hill, a stranger passed him, turned round, followed, and confronted him with, “You are the very man I want.” Ryland, looking him steadily in the face, calmly answered, “But you are mistaken in your man;” adding, “I have not the pleasure of knowing you.” The stranger, who really was looking for some other person, apologised for his mistake, and resumed his way.
RED CHALK ENGRAVINGS.
“Ryland and Picot, a French engraver, who had learned from Demarteau, in Paris, the mode of stippling in what was termed the red chalk manner, had brought it over to England about the year 1770. Demarteau, who was himself an excellent draughtsman, confined his attempts to the clever chalk drawings and sketches by Boucher and Vanloo, of whose Academy figures he produced bold, mellow, and unrivalled imitations. Ryland and Picot made use of the stippling to produce elaborate prints from finished pictures.Like other easy novelties, it became immediately the fashion, and for a time gave currency to the languid elegance of Angelica Kauffman’s designs, who, in return, extolled the stippling to her courtly patrons.Dilettantilords and ladies, the connoisseurs of St. James’s and St. Giles’s, the town and country, clamoured in admiration of the ‘beautiful red prints.’ They became a favourite decoration everywhere from the palace to the lodging-house, and a sentimental swarm of sickly designs from incidents in favourite novels succeeded to the gentle, nerveless groups of Angelica.”—European Magazine.
DAVID TENIERS was born at Antwerp in 1582. He studied under Rubens, and afterwards at Rome. On his return home he employed himself in painting small pictures of carousals, fairs, and rural scenes, which he executed in an admirable manner. He died in 1649. He had two sons, Abraham and David, who were both artists; the former excelled in the chiaroscuro, and expression of character. The younger, David, born at Antwerp in 1610, was called “the Ape of Painting,” from his facility in imitating any style. He was esteemed by several sovereigns, and the King of Spain erected a gallery on purpose for his pictures. His chief talent lay in landscape and conversations. He died in 1694.
DAVID TENIERS THE YOUNGER, AT THEVILLAGE ALE HOUSE.
From Payne’s “Royal Dresden Gallery” we extract the following:—
“Let us follow our artist in one of his wanderings. He strolls from the time-honoured walls of Antwerp, towards a village situated on the Scheldt, and enters the ale-house, which has already furnished him with so many original sketches, and is not likely to fail on the present occasion. Four guests, attended by the toothless old servant of the house, are seated at a table of rough oak; but their discourse is of such a deeply interesting character that they take no notice whatever of either host, hostess, or guests.
“On the right of the table sits an old Scheldt fisherman with a dilapidated high crowned hat on his head, a decided countenance, which is shaded by an ample beard; his well used pipe of brown clay together with its accompanying bag of tobacco are stuck in his girdle like weapons of war. This man is called by the others Jan van Bierlich. On the other side of the table sits the son of the old boatman, a powerful looking fellow about thirty years old, with an open cast of countenance. He wears the old Flemish jacket without arms, and an old-fashioned head dress: this man’s name is Willen.
“In vain has the son importuned the father to permit him to marry the prettiest, but poorest, maiden of the village. The father of the bride, Mynheer Taaks, has taken his place opposite to the boatman; he is a mild looking man, with long brown hair. The fourth guest is Izak, a bearded son of Israel, and the negociator of the present affair.
“He has promised the bride Katerina to advance the necessary dowry, on condition the bridegroom will take the debt on himself. All three have consequently combined to persuade the boatman to take their view of the case. ‘I will give my Katerina two thousand golden florins!’ cries Taaks. ‘But I have not said Ja,’ replies the boatman.‘Have you anything to say against the maiden?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ replies the boatman; ‘I like her very well if she has got money. But I object to you, Mynheer Taaks, because you are not able to drink a proper quantity of beer: do you think I am going to have a relation that will annoy me all the days of my life instead of being a comfort to me?’ Izak winked at Taaks. ‘As for that,’ said Taaks, ‘I believe I can drink more than you, Mynheer!’
“‘I should like to see you do that,’ said the boatman, drily. ‘But I will only drink on a proper understanding,—Is my daughter to marry your son, if I prove to be a good toper?’ ‘How can I tell what you call a good toper?’ cried Jan, ‘but I am willing to have one bout with you; and if you can drink a single glass more than I, I shall say you are a good fellow, and you may bring your daughter to my house to-morrow.’ He, however, whispered to Izak—‘Taaks will soon be under the table, and that alone will be well worth a hundred florins.’ The landlord brought beer and chalk; the topers emptied the glasses in good earnest, and scored each glass on the table beside them. At length the old boatman beckoned to Taaks, who was laughing heartily, but had for some time left off drinking, and was regarding him with an air that showed he was confident of victory. ‘The battle is over!’ cried Jan, ‘I can drink no more; we will not count the glasses.’ ‘Oh! Mynheer,’ cried Taaks, ‘I have got the most scores!’ Jan sprang on his feet, bent over the table, and compared his score carefully with that of his opponent. ‘What witchcraft is this?’ roared the boatman, clenching his fists, ‘you have not scored too much, because I have watched you the whole time, and I have as surely not scored too little, and yet you have drunk two more glasses than I? I who was never beaten at beer-drinking before!’Willen, his son, reckoned the score after him, while the old servant, who saw the joke, glanced slily over his shoulder at the scene, while old Izak observed the comical fury of the old boatman with a very knowing look. The fact was, that Izak had secretly contrived to rub out part of old Jan’s score as soon as he had marked it down.
“Jan called the host as a witness; the host took the chalk, went to the doorpost, and began to reckon; but the rogue had been drawn into the plot, and he completed the joke, by making his reckoning agree with that of the others. Jan van Bierlich was compelled, as a man of his word, to strike his colours. Five minutes afterwards, Willen and the pretty Katerina were betrothed, and a few moments later David Teniers, the younger, returned to Antwerp, carrying in his pocket the sketch of this charming picture.”
BENJAMIN WEST was born in America, in the year 1738. It is said that his grandfather was one of those who accompanied the celebrated Penn to the young country. Like most of those who make their way in the art of painting, he very early displayed a strong inclination for drawing. After considerable difficulty in pecuniary matters, he was enabled, chiefly through his own industry, to visit Italy. He suffered several severe attacks of illness while in Italy, notwithstanding which his progress in the art was very rapid. He visited London in 1763. His pictures exhibited in Spring Gardens meeting with much favour, he resolved to fix his residence here in the country of his ancestors. The amount of professional work—chieflyhistorical—produced by this great artist is beyond all precedent. Of his many compositions the best are generally admitted to be those taken from Sacred History. And generally as an historical painter, it would be difficult to name his superior in the amount of his productions and artistic merit. He died in 1820, at the age of 82.
LEIGH HUNT.
Among the large circle of the friends of Mr. West was the late Leigh Hunt, who thus expresses his warm attachment on the sale of the celebrated artist’s pictures:—
“It is a villainous thing to those who have known a man for years, and been intimate with the quiet inside of his house, privileged from intrusion, to see a sale of his goods going on upon the premises. It is often not to be helped, and what he himself wishes and enjoins; but still it is a villainous necessity,—a hard cut to some of one’s oldest and tenderest recollections. There is a sale of this kind now going on in the house we spoke of last week. We spoke of it then under an impulse not easy to be restrained, and not difficult to be allowed us; and we speak of it now under another. We were returning the day before yesterday from a house where we had been entertained with lively accounts of foreign countries and the present features of the time, when we saw the door in Newman Street standing wide open, and disclosing to every passenger a part of the gallery at the end of the hall. All our boyhood came over us, with the recollection of those who had accompanied us into that house. We hesitated whether we should go in, and see an auction taking place of the old quiet abstraction; but we do not easily suffer an unpleasant and vulgar association to overcome a greater one; and besides, how could we pass? Having passed the threshold, without the ceremonyof the smiling old porter, we found a worthy person sitting at the door of the gallery, who, on hearing our name, seemed to have old times come upon him as much as ourselves, and was very warm in his services. We entered the gallery, which we had entered hundreds of times in childhood, by the side of a mother, who used to speak of the great persons and transactions in the pictures on each side of her with a hushing reverence, as if they were really present. But the pictures were not there—neither Cupid with his doves, nor Agrippina with the ashes of Germanicus, nor the Angel slaying the army of Sennacherib, nor Death on the Pale Horse, nor Jesus healing the Sick, nor the Deluge, nor Moses on the Mount, nor King Richard pardoning his brother John, nor the installation of the old Knights of the Garter, nor Greek and Italian stories, nor the landscapes of Windsor Forest, nor Sir Philip Sidney, mortally wounded, giving up the water to the dying Soldier. They used to cover the wall; but now there were only a few engravings. The busts and statues also were gone. But there was the graceful little piece of garden as usual, with its grass-plat and its clumps of lilac. They could not move the grass plat, even to sell it. Turning to the left, there was the privileged study which we used to enter between the Venus de Medicis and the Apollo of the Vatican. They were gone, like their mythology. Beauty and intellect were no longer waiting on each side of the door. Turning again, we found the longer part of the gallery like the other; and in the vista through another room, the auction was going on. We saw a throng of faces of business with their hats on, and heard the hard-hearted knocks of the hammer, in a room which used to hold the mild and solitary artist at his work, and which had never been entered but with quiet steps and a face of consideration. We did not stopa minute. In the room between this and the gallery, huddled up in a corner, were the busts and statues which had given us a hundred thoughts. Since the days when we first saw them, we have seen numbers like them, and many of more valuable materials; for though good of their kind, and of old standing, they are but common plaster. But the thoughts and the recollections belonged to no others, and it appeared sacrilege to see them in that state.