G
.WONG THE PORTRAITS AT KEHSIHGTOH.
HOTKB MTBRAKT AHD TU TOBUL. '
Jn those galleries where, in 18G2, the holi
day seekers and students of many nations
gathered for gossip and eatirjg and drinking,
ecupations evanescent and Jovial, two vast
companies of the ghostly dead have since been
called in succession, and ranked in portraiture
before our eyes. .They came from dusty
nooks, from garrets, or high up in rat-infested
closets, off the walls of long-deserted rooms In
country mansions which once were nil their
own in body or in similitude; they came from
chambers that had been princely and full of
life for five hundred years; from the
diniDg-halls of colleges which the origi
nals had founded or benefited, and
left them to be forgotten by those who eat
dead men's feasts. This was painted when
the sitter got the Oarter, that when he or she
was married; the next was a paning gift from
a mother to her son, that to a wife from a hus
band going to the wars.
Last year, what old memories, old loves, old
hates, old customs thronged the fancy or
chnimed the sight of the student as he hailed
Chaucer's likeness (!), a copy made in former
days of that which Occleve drew from recol
lections of his "dear master's" person I Here,
in lliuhard II," (7) was the oldest picture in
England, sadly mauled, but still claim
ing attention by the strange beauty of
the face that marvellous triptych of Sir
John lonne and his lady (lb) Memline
painted in Urnges while Caxton was printing
in Westminster Abbey here were llol
liein's pictures made in the golden age of
Henry VlII's prime. These were by admira
ble artists, and had been given to Holbein, but
were really due to his equals and forgotten
names: one among these concerns all literary
folks, for it was a superb picture of the Earl
of Surrey (121) from Knole, painted in the
Italian manner and ascribed to Holbein, but in
all probability the work of William Stretes, an
- Englishman of great fame inhia day. Surrey,
it is said, died for his ambition. This portrait
is inscribed Sat suptrest. Had not the words
an afterthought ?
Here I'hilip Sidney met Algernon of his own
Same: George Buchanan saw James I long
after he was out of his tutelage, and had got
to strange passes; there was Francis Waliing
lam face to face with Queen Mary of Scotland;
Mary Ueatoun (331) a false-looking woman,
and one of "the Queen's four Mariea" who are
included in the woful rhyme,
"There was Mary Beatoun, and Mary Seton,
And Mary Carmlcuael and me,"
met at least a dozen royal Maries, in few of
whom could she possibly recognize her mis
tress, so diverse were their feafures, so strange
their airs. Here was Darnley, with the silliest
face and longest legs that ever mortal saw; and
there (439) the baby King James praying at
Cod's altar by his father's tomb for vengeance
on that father's murderers. Ten pictures off
hung UobHon, the Cambridge carrier, the hero
f "Hobson's choice," whose epitaph Milton
made twice over; there Milton; there his friend
Henry Lawes, of whom he wrote:
''Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend his
wing
To honor thee, the priest of rhcebua' quire."
There was Car of Ferniherst and Devereux,
Earl of Essex, and that abandoned woman
Who married both, and may have murdered
Overbury. Gondomar stood there with a
wolilsh laugh he was a great wit: there Sir
Walter Raleigh. This was the very portrait
of the Infanta Maria which led Prinoe Charles
on that will-o'-the-wisp dance into Spain;
and not far off hung Henrietta of Fiance,
whom he picked np when the wild light had
ieen dashed out; Buckingham the iirst and
Buckingham the second, Arabella Stuart, who
kad that tremendously long bill for millinery,
and Anna Maria, Countess of Shrewsbury, who
held Buckingham's horse while he killed her
kusband, as they say.
In fact, the whole history of England and
Scotland since Ilichard II civil, military,
personal, and domestic has been illustrated
on these walls. Last year, the pages of Froi3
eart, Monstrelet, llollingshed, Hall, Fabyau,
the - histories of Elizabeth's times, the
memoirs and diaries of James and
Charles' days; Grammont, D'Ewes, Bramston,
Evelyn, and Fepys this year, Pope, Walpole,
Boswell, Eanny Burney, and a score of others
have had delightful light cast upon their
pages. One might go on enumerating the
men and women of last year's show until
another year began. Here were Oliver's
Peers and Charles' Knights of the Royal Oak;
these arranged themselves in groups; the cap
tains of Henry and Elizabeth, the traitors of
King James.
In that gathering with which we have now
to do it is a captain of King William's who
.leads the line in a much-restored portrait,
being Ginkell, Earl of Athlone (1), with whom
may go Rigaud's showy picture of Bentinck,
Earl of 'Portland (5), whom the Duke of
Marlboiough delighted to call "the wooden
Portland." He certainly looks a good deal
like a ship's figure-head, a similitude which in
increased by bis action of holding out his leading-staff.
Marlborough was the last apt man
to do this reticent soldier justice: it is told of
him that, being page of honor to William III,
and his young master suffering from small
pox, the pustules of which did not rise, the
doctor recommended placing the sick child in
bed with another that was healthy, in order,
as it was devised, to carry off the poison of the
disease from the former. Bentinck volun-
. teered his life, was accepted, took, and nearly
died of the disease. It was a heroio act,
which William long remembered. It was
Bentinck who, when shown in a French,
palace Le Brun's pictures of Louis XIV's
victories, and aBked if such could be matched
inEngland, replied, "No; the monuments of my
master's actions are to be seen anywhere
. but in his own house." He acted In the
epirit of that Roman Catholic of William's
Dutch Guards, who, as Burnet tells us,
when asked how he could aid in the enter
prise on England, which was aimed against his
religion, answered that this soul was God's
but his sword was the Prince ot Orange's'
There is a portrait of Bentinck' young prince
here (3), whioh must have been taken about
the time of that act of self-saorilice, and in
the pallor of its skin, the hollowing of' its
yes, and other signs of debility, agrees with
the . look of a child jnst recovering ' from a
harp illness. It ia by Cornelius Jonson van
Cenlen, not, as the catalogue says, by the
more famous Cornelius Jansen. To Van
Cenlen may be ascribed many of the Inferior
pictures which have been attributed to his
namesake, and among them some that puzzled
tudents of last year's exhibition by their
litter variance from those of the better known
Artist.
Jonson van Ceulen is said by Nagler to have
4ie4 in 165(5, a date this picture corrects bv
earing a signature and the date 1C57.
. William was then seven years of ag'e; Han
seuun painted him in a much better state
f health in the next picture (4), whioh
hows him in armor, and is dated 1 GC4. There
ia ft harming portrait of a bright-faced, beau
tiful, health toy in cap, with a fringe and
THE DAILl EVENING TELEGRAm rillLADELPIIIA, TUESDAY,
feapbera round its edge; this is also called
"William III" (IP), is the property of Earl
Spencer, and attributed to Rembrandt. It
may be of Rembrandt's school, but is open to
grave doubts as to being by the master; cer
tainly it is not a portrait of William, who was
always a sickly child.
Connected with King William ia a large
group of portraits, comprising some of the
most famous names in Europe. No. 81 gives
one of them as "John, Duke of Marl
borough," painted when he was a young man,
and probably more admired for his beauty
than his genius. He has a smooth, fair,
handsome face, with dark eyes that lie softly
under large and broad lids, a round and bold
forehead, small full mouth, and cheeks with
an oval outline; altogether more like a carpet
knight than a great conqueror, if it were not
for the impress of resolution and energy, self
command and decision of intellect, which
distinguishes the face. Many excuses have
been made for his tergiversation and
duplicity; of these the best that can be
made is that his consistency was with himself
in self-seeking. Of this characteristic one
fancies signs even in this handsome face,
but neither there nor in that other like
ness (b7), by Kneller, is any mark of that ex
traordinary parsimony which "cropped out"
in the strangest way. Conceive such a man,
when in the career of victory and dictating
peace to I ranee, writing thus to his Duchess:
"You must let the Lord Treasurer know that
since the Queen (Anne) came to the crown, I
have not had either a canopy or a chair of
stnte, which now of necessity I must have; so
the wardrobe should have immediate orders,
and I beg yon will take care to have it made
so that it may serve for part of a bed when I
have done with it here."
"Brimstone Sarah" was no inapt name for
the termagant but straight-dealing wife of this
thrifty conqueror a lady who is amply repre
sented here by four portraits, all taken at
about one period of her life, and by Kneller.
One would like to see a picture of her later
appearance, when her grandson Charles,
second Duke of Marlborough (3'JU), compelled
her to appear in a publio court of jnstica in
order to the restitution of property she kept
from him.
Among this property wa3 a sword set with
diamonds, which the Emperor gave to the first
Duke; in course of her examination she
averred that she had retained the weapon
"lest he should pick out the diamonds and
pawn them." She kept up this indomitable
spirit nearly to the last. Thus wrote Wal
pole to Mason: "Old Marlborough is dying
but who can tell 1 Last year 6he had lain a
great kwhile ill, without Epeaking; the phy
sicians said, 'She must be blistered, or she
will die.' She called out, 'I won't be blistered,
and I won't die.' If she takes the same re
solution now, I don't believe she will," add3
the letter-writer (December 10, 1741). She
kept her word, and lived three veara loneer.
Countless stories are told of her violence and
inseleuce. Among these is one which we be
lieve refers to No. 00, representing her in the
fulness of womanhood, dressed loosely in a
white wrapper, her immense mass of long and
very fair hair dishevelled and hanging down
on one shoulder, from which it falls to her
right hand.
Her features are swollen, eyelids red and
heavy, and their expression is such as follows
a storm of rage and tears. We believe this
portrait was taken by order of the Duke to
commemorate one of the most outrageous of
her explosions, wliioli is thus described:
"Her features and air announced nothing that
her temper did not confirm; both together,
her beauty and temper, enslaved her heroio
lord. One of her principal charms was a pro
digious abundance of fine fair hair. One day
at her toilet, in anger to him, she cut off those
commanding tresses, and flung them in his
face 1" Pendent to this picture, and evidently
intended to contrast with it, is another (No.
K), one of the best and most pleasing of
Kneller's works. This shows her beauty to
comprise a piquante, slightly turned-up
nose, bright deep-blue eyes, well
defined, fair eyebrows, and an exuberant
bust. Closterman painted her in a family
picture, and whilst this was going on the
artist and she quarrelled so incessantly that
the Duke declared to him, "It has given me
more trouble to reconcile my wife and you
than to light a battler." Another warrior's
wife and duchess termagant ef this period was
Anne (born. Clarges), Duchess of Albemarle,
Monk's wife, of whom, when her temper was
up, that General was dreadfully afraid. Au
brey tells us "she was' not at all handsome,
nor very cleanly." Her mother was one
' Of the fine women-barbers
Xhat dwelt lu Uiury Lane."
Of her inflammable Graoe of Marlborough it
was tartly said by the Duke of Montagu,
when Churchill praised his water-works at
Boughton, "They are by no means com
parable to your Grace's fireworks." There
was another imperious Duchess of Marl
borough, whom Reynolds painted in that
famous family group, "The Marlborough
Family." This lady had great reverence for
her carpets, and, while the President was at
work, took such offense at bin furious suuff
takiog, the waste of which strewed the lloor,
that, losing patience, she at last bade a ser
vant bring a broom and shovel to remove it.
Reynolds, who could be conveniently deafer
than usual, noticed nothing until the utensils
were produced, and then cried, "Let it be, let
it be; the dust will do more harm to my pic
ture than the snuff to the carpet." The house
wifely lady sat on thorns until the sitting was
over, and never forgave Sir Joshua. Ter
magant Duchess Sarah's sister was
the MiS Jennings who married, first,
George Hamilton, famous in Cram
mont's "Memoirs," and Becoudly, Richard
Talbot, James the Second's Duke of Tyr
connel. This lady is well known on account
of her freak with Miss Price, when, disguised
as orange girls, they visited the rake Jermyn,
and by other adventures of a questionable
sort. She died in 1703, a nun of the order of
Poor Clares, having fallen out of bed in a
bitter night of cold in her eighty-fourth year,
while her sister was still buBily building at
Blenheim.
Here (84) is Trinee George of Denmark, so
dull a mortal that Charles II said he had tried
him both drunk and sober, and found nothing
in him. He died of excessive eating and
drinking; yet he does not look a glutton,
although his face contrasts wonderfully with
that of the self-centred Marlborough, his
wife's great captain, and that of the other
leader, Prince Eugene (88), a little Jewish
looking man, with a long hooked nose, broad
eyebrows, and a small chin. Still more does
thai & ur of a lav man contrast with
MoraL'iUotr,tlir,niHrl,oU ia war, Charles
fie ' of "vLleia. h
oM .g d abtTt" Vwh S? wt
planting peaches at lievis Zm T .i
ton-not long belore he on bU 7tbamp";
to Pope that watch whl"S g,ave
lined for Arbuthnot (lffTJ fc1" des
teen given to Peterborough
Sardinia (Victor Amadeus II), and Zd
in Pope's will, a "that which I MmS
I num. uuvuuw vuvm miivk I ope, the
bequest was inoperative.
Jt ! wonderful to gee how dead e.n'i
picture are bonnd together. Take bnt a
single loop of this inextricable and endless
string. Fat-beaded, gluttonous George of
Denmark was going to Epsom one day in 1708,
and had a severe lit of dyspepsia. (By the way,
if he had not eaten and drank so innch, the
hydrocephalic look of that poor boy, William,
Duke of Gloucester, as it appears in No. 80,
where his mother Queen Anne holds him at
her knee, might not have been so fatally large,
with such consequences to countless genera
tions.) Well, a certain physician, whom
Swift (140), in a letter to Stella whose por
trait, by the way, is not No. 142 May 10,
1712, described as "a Scotch gentleman, a
friend of mine," chanced, much to the com
fort of Trince George and his own benefit, to
be at Epsom on that day.
This "Scotch gentleman" and physician was
Arbuthnot, and theoooasionof Swift's letter was
the publication of the famous "History of John
Bull," a work which Swift praised prodigiously,
as became one of that wonderful "Mutual Ad
miration Society" to which both belonged. In
due time Arbuthnot wrote to Swift, who, in
his turn, had published "The Travels of Cap
tain Lemuel Gulliver," and informed him that
Lord Scarborough (235), "who is no Inventor
of stories, told me that he fell in company with
a master of a Bhip who told him that he was
very well acquainted with Gulliver; but the
printer had mistaken, that he lived in Wap
ping, not in Rotherhithe." To add to the
oddity of all this, it has come out since that
there really was a sea captain Gulliver, who
lived somewhere by Deal in later life, and was
probably the man about whomthe "printer"
is said to have erred.
"Downright Shippen," the man among
men, whose price Sir Robert Walpole (247,
etc.), did not know, is here on canvas (222),
a man with a black and prodigious peri
wig, who sits bolt upright in his chair,
having, on a ilat face, a broad nose, round
eyes, and singularly uplifted eyebrows ex
pressive of disdain and self-relianoe; a richly
characteristic picture, probably by Richardson.
"Lord Fanny" is here in Lord Hervey (257),
of whom more presently. "Sir Richard" is
Blackmore (151), physician and ponderous
poet; Bugdell and Cibber do not appear.
"Casar," who "scorns the poet's lays," is
George I (194). The exquisite and famous
lines, that can never be too famous, by which
the poet describes his own condition, bear
light on "Bolingbroke" (109), and "Peter
borough" (129):
"Know, all the distant din tho world can keep
KoIIb o'er my grotto, and but soothes my sleep
There my retreat the best companions grace
Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of. place'.
There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl
The feast of reason uud the flow of soul
And he whose ligUtnlug pierced the' Iberian
lines
Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks my
vines,
Or tnmts the genius of the stubborn plain
Almost as quickly as he conquered Spain."
Of Dryden, we have an irrefutable portrait
in No. U5. It is by Kneller, the property of
Dryden's descendant, and was given to the
poet by the painter. The story Is that when
Dryden read some of Swift's early poems, he
said, "Ah 1 cousin Swift, you will never be a
poet," a saying which the latter revenged in
the immortal "Battle of the Books," where
he certainly throws an odd light on this pic
ture. It represents a man in a tremendous
periwig, from within which the face peers out,
bo as almost to justify the satire in the account
of the duel between Virgil and his translator.
"The helmet of the latter," so wrote Swift,
"wa3 nine times too large for the head, which
appeared situate far in the hinder part, like a
mouse under a canopy of state, or like a
shrivelled beau from within the pent-house of a
modern periwig." Let the shuddering reader
think of the feelings of the withered dragon,
who, when age let his natural coat of mail
hang loose and rattling on his vast but weak
ened chest, heard this from the young lion of
the next generation I How the aged heart
must have ached for the days when "Mao
Flecknoe" was written; ached for the arm's
strength that had hewed down Dorg (Settle),
cast Uj (Shadwell) into the fire, and assaulted
Shaftesbury I
Dryden and Swift were cousins on the female
side, but Dryden's appears to have been the
better blood; in a worldly sense there could
be no comparison. Swift was poor and never
got much for his literary labor, whereas of
"Absalom and Achitophel" more copies had
been sold than of any work except "The Trial
of Sacheverell" (120).
From the hand of the Earl of Abington Dry
den received the unparalleled sum of five hun
dred guineas for his poem "Eleanora,". a lau
dation of the Earl's wife a work which, as
containing no more than three hundred and
seventy lines, was better paid for than any
poem, ancient or modern. The modern maxi
mum of a guinua a line is nothing to this; the
difference in the value of money makes the
former price; more than double. By the by,
doea everybody know that Dryden's houso of
living and dying still stands being No. 34
Gerrard street, Sohof Jlia study was the
ground floor front room. Another of the men
depicted here lived close by, namely, Lord
Mohun (123), who fought the Duke of Hamil
ton (79), so that both were slain. They
fought about the property of which that part
of Soho is a large section. Gerrard street took
its name from Lady Mohun's uncle, Lord Mac
clesfield, whose title is represented by Mac
clesfield street in the same district.
Dryden's face ia by no means a beautiful
one. The upper features look aa if they had
somehow slid towarda the chin; the nose ia
lengthy and fleshy; there is fleshiness of
another sort about the lips; the chin ia rather
weak; the outer corners of the eyes are higher
than their inner fellows.
Pope's will,' which has been already referred
to, connects ua with two other legatees,
whose portraita are here, the Misses Blount
(102):-
The falr-halred Martha and Theresa brown."
Readers will remember these ladles' names in
connection with Pope. The name of Jervaa is
not appended to this picture in the catalogue,
but we have no doubt of its having been
painted by that artist. It has, however, been
much restored, newly painted all over. Martha
Blonnt was Pope's principal heiress:
to her, " All the furniture in my
grotto, urns in my garden, household
goods, chattels, plate, and whatever else
is not otherwise disposed of," Bays his
will. Another picture by Jervas, who Is
known to literary men aa the best English
translator of "Don Quixote," ia here, and ia
undoubtedly that designated In Pope's "Epis
tle to Mr. Jervas." It is Elizabeth Churchill,
Countess of Bridg'ewater (lt'0), respecting
which Pope has the line,
"With Zeuxla Helen thy Brldgewater vie"
a ridiculous piece of flattery, although prais
ing a' good enough picture. Pope had large
dealings with artists. Richardson painted two
excellent portraits of him, which are hare:
No. 136, a small work from the Fitiwilliaui
Museum, Cambridge, curiously showing those
crescent-shaped lines , at the corners of the
contorted month whioh never fail to
accompany a deformed body, and are
the signs of long-oontinued inward
pain; also, No. 154, with the poet's favorite,
and big dog, "Bounce," in front and looking
up at Liu. The bard aita here ha that videntl
characteristic action or leaning his over
weighty brain in one hand, the elbow resting
on a table. Thus Knoller painted him in that
wonderfully expressive picture, No. 14(1, be
longing to the Rev. W. Vernon Harcourt,
which was made for Lord Harcoart. It 1b
rough in handling, probably not wholly free
from restorations, but startling in the look
conveyed of a wasted face, with hollow and
hectically lighted cheeks, large luminous
eyes, glittering in moisture, a narrow sloping
forehead, an ill-formed nose, and, above all,
a too heavy, yet by no means large, oranium.
It is the face of an over-sensitive, irritable,
not over-refined man. He puffed Kneller as
vigorously, and with better reason than Jer
vaa was berhymed. More pathetio is this
letter to Richardson : "My poor mother
is dead. I thank God her death was as
easy as her life was innocent; and, as it cost
her not a groan, or even a sigh, there la
yet upon her countenance an expression of
Tranquillity, nay, almost of Pleasure, that it
ia even amiable to behold i. It would afford
the finest image of a Saint expir'd that ever
Painting drew, and it would be the greatest
obligation which even that obliging Art could
ever bestow on a friend if you would come and
sketch it for me. I am sure, if there ia no
very prevalent obstacle, you will leave any
common business to do this: and I hope to see
you this evening, as late as you will, or to
morrow morning early, before this winter
flower ia faded. I will defer her interment
until to-morrow night. I know you love me,
or I could not have written this, I could not
(at this time) have written at all. Adieu 1
May you die as happily." (June 10, 1733,
Twickenham. Mrs. Pope died on the seventh
of this month, aged 93.)
We meant to leave Pope in this tender fit,
but there is another note that may well follow
here. There is a letter from Pope to Swift
announcing the death of Gay, their common
friend, and containing a postscript in Arbuth
not's handwriting. Arbuthnot attended Gay
at his death. The letter ia dated "Decomber
5, 1732," and is thus indorsed by the Dean:
"On my dear friend Mr. Gay's death: Re
ceived December 15, but not read till the 20th,
by an impulse foreboding some misfortune."
We have three portraita of Gay here, (173)
by Michael Dahl, (176) by Hogarth, and (177)
by Richardson, as we believe, although it was
sold about forty-seven years ago as a Hogarth:
it belongs to Lady Clifden.
Pope's circle ia marked at large on the
walls of this colltction. "Mary Wortley Mon
tagu" is by his friend Richardson (237),
a tall and Blender young dame, with a very
amorous expression in her beautiful eyes,
and a face marvellously different from that
which Mr. Frith painted some years since
in a highly popular picture of Pope's luckless
wooing of the lady. Walpole and Pope cele
brate the dirtiness of her linen.
Richardson also painted that noble portrait
of the magnanimous surgeon, William Chesel
den (237), who agreed to spend the last years
of his life with the old soldiers at Chelsea, lies
buried in their graveyard, and has his grave
miserably defiled. This Is a superb portrait,
worthy of a Venetian. Kneller'a best portrait
here is of Sir Hans Sloane (231) belonging to
the Royal Society, and a bequest about the
time when Walpole (438, an unnamed
painter's portrait of the witty letter
writer is here) wrote thug in his jesting
way: "Sir Hans Sloane is dead, and haa
made me one of the trustees of hia museum.
He valued it at fourscore thousand pounds,
and so would anybody who loved hippo
potamuses, sharks with one ear, and spiders
as big as geese. It is a rent charge to keep
the lotuses in spirits."
No. 39, a bluff, kindly-faced gentleman, by
Aneiier, is xean Aianon, oi (Jurist Uhurch,
the architect of All Saints' and Peckwater,
perhaps better known as author of "Good.
good, indeed !" and, "Hark 1 the bonny Christ
Church Bells." The famoua Betterton, by
Kneller, is here, In No. 07, a much-restored
picture; also that copy or it on which Pope'a
reputation aa a painter has been founded. All
artistic friends agree that the handling of the
copy ia not due to a mere amateur, such aa
Pope must have been, but shows signs of
long practice in the squareness, firmness, and
clearness ot the touches, and the brilliancy
of the coloring. Doubtless the better portions
of tLis copy are by Jervas, Kneller's pupil
and Pope's friend. The copy belongs to Lord
Mansfield, the original to Lady Delawarr. The
Scottish artist Murray who painted, in No.
161, William Dampier's gipsy face, as tawny
as if all the world's winda had blown upon it
waa a friend of Pope. Long-headed Fletcher
of Saltoun (20) ia probably by M. Dahl, and
not by Aikman another of the good northern
portrait-paintera of that day. The noblest
portrait of Newton is No. 33, by Kneller, the
perfect presentation of an incarnate intellect.
The series of Kit-Cat Club portraits com
prises those that were painted by Kneller in
his happiest manner for Jaoob Tonson (147)
who is himself here, in a red cap, and with a
bluff, rosy-hued, and well-fed face, a knowing
twinkle in his eye, as if he looked about at hia
"eminent hands" of the literary set who still
gathered round him in effigy. Like Dampier,
he holds a book, but it ia "Paradise Lost," of
which he bou ght the copyright.
Here Ib Steele (111), "a short-faced gentle
man," very handsome, and with a most genial
look; and here la Addison's (115) most gentle
manly countenance. Congreve (116) is a little
supercilious in his expression, and partly turns
away from us; Sir John Vanbrugh (112) looka
really the able man he was, much less heavily
featured than lolks think. The Marquis of
Wharton (118) was Addison's patron, sup
posed author of "Lilliburlero," the famous
anti-Jacobite song. The portrait (137) of the
fat man, with deep pock-marks, a swelled nose,
and a napkin tied round his head, is not that
of Kit-Cat himself, the pastry cook at whose
house the splendid company of wits and barda
originally met. It is by Kneller, aa the cata
logue Bays, but ia known, by a print by A.
Miller, 1739, to represent Le Beck, a tavern
keeper, with a glass of wine in hia hand. Worst
of all among the errors, that large picture which
many must have noticed as "Members of the
Kit-Cat Club" (145), belonging to Baronesa
Windsor, representa some Dutch gentlemen
taking tea, and ia not by Kneller at. all. An
other picture caught every eye, and waa re
ported to be by Hogarth No. 229, "Bishop
Hooper," belonging to Christ Church, Oxford;
but, by G. White's engraving, 1723, thia la
known to be by T. Hill, a very able portrait
painter. The so-called "Captain Coram"
(341), by Hogarth, is really Mr. Porter.
"Sarah Malcolm" (370), although by Hogarth,
ia not his portrait of that murderess.
The lady in the hood, and with eager, hard
grey eyes, and rather cruel expression
(258), waa once the "beautiful Molly
Lepel," who married Lord Hervey (257),
"Sporus, that thin white curd of assea'
milk. They made her a cornet of horse,
says Walpole, "almost as soon as she was born,
which ia no more wrong to the design of an
army than if she had been a sen: she was
paid many years after Bhe waa Maid of
Honor." Lord Sunderland got her a pension
when it became too ridiculous to continue her
any longer as an officer in the army.
Before we dismiss the memory-wealthy circle
of Kneller and his contemporaries, let us return
to No. 8, the Royal Sotiety'a portrait of Kir
OCTOBER 29, 1867.
Jofph Williamson, by Kneller, and remind the
reader that it was he who received that famous
ep'fitle from the Countess of Pembroke
whose portrait waa here last year; a resolute
looking little woman when he pressed her
atoui the nomination of a courtier lor the
borough of Appleby:" I have been bullied
by an usurper, neglected by a court, but I
won't be dictated to by a subject; your man
sua n i stand. Ann Dorset, Pembroke, and
Montgomery." But just look at "Edward
nyde, Karl of Clarendon, Governor of New
York" (130). It shows a dreadfullv usrlv
male mortal in a woman's dress, with a fan in
his hand, a long-bodied gown, and a female's
cap on. The original was the grandson of no
less a person than the great minister Claren
don. To such degradation did he come that
this picture represents one of his follies in ap
pearing thus dressed before tho New Yorkers
to represent Queen Anne In proper person. He
seems to have been half crazy.
We come now upon another class of per
sons. In No. 270 we have George II, a full
length by Kneller, and oddly illustrating Mr.
Carlyle's description of him aa always show
ing one of his little legs, putting it forward to
be noticed; rather an impudent than a heavy
lcoking man, but most happy in self-satisfaction.
In No. 255 we have, thanks to Vander
bank, George's better-looking wife, a
bright-faced woman with very fair hair,
dressed in velvet, ropes of silk, lace,
and the rest of such things, which ia as
hideous but not so splendid as that of Queen
Elizabeth herself, who waa really a woful
dresser. From Augusta, Princess of Wales
(264, by Vanloo), in unhappy combination
with Frederick Lewis, son of George II (277.
by AmiconlJ), were derived the trumpeter's
cheeks, eloping forehead, weak chin, and narrow-fronted
Bkull of George III, who in Van-
loo's picture ia seated with his mother, and
although a mere baby, is yet almost comically
like his mother, and still more like himself
when crown to manhood.
That portrait of Frederick Lewis, Trince of
Wales, by Amlconi (tit), is worm writing
about, if it were only to show what imbecile
creatures have sometimes the misfortune to
be influential in this world. There he sits,
the beau ideal of a pi tit mailre, shaved smug
aa a new deal-board. A tight and rather
small whitish wig goes fairly with his very fair,
almost white, eyebrows and lashes; the cheeks
are plump and full, the eyes without a sign of
mind in them. Here wnat iney thought ot mm
in his own days, and in hia own hou8e: "Old
Lady Gower carried a niece to Leicester Fields
(where the prince resided) the other day, to
present her; the girl trembled she pushed
her. 'What are you afraid of f Don't you
see that musical clock ? Can you be afraid of
a man that has a musical clock 7' " Let us
hope the damsel took heart and faced the dap
per prince with the fair eyelashes. When
this man died, the people lamented that it
had not been his brother the Duke of
Cumberland, victor at Culloden, whom, not
only for hia cruelties at that time,
bnt also on account of his appearanoe
(be looks like a great squab of flesh, and fat,
and blood) men called "the Butcher." "Oh I
that it were but the Butcher I" was the cry on
'Change when they heard Frederick Lewis was
dead. Here is the fat Duke on horseback, a
very greasy, Banguinary-looking mortal (281),
with Lord Cathcart, hia aid-de-camp, riding
behind, and showing on hia cheek that black
patch of which he waa so proud, because it
covered the hole made by the bullet of Fon
tenoy. It appears again in 298, the present
Lord Cathcart's superbly toned portrait of his
anoestor by Reynolds. Reynolds also painted
"the Butcher" in a "whole-length" (318) one
of the most masculine of his many masculine
pictures, wherein, with consummate art, he
has refined upon that which seemed unre
finable. The Duke of Cumberland's portraits are not
the only illustrationa of the '"45" present
here. This is no less a person than "Simon
Eraser, Lord Lovat" (320), the half-French
Scotchman of evil fame, the very picture
which Hogarth painted at St. Albans, whither
he waa taken to meet the captured Highland
fox, in order that he might paint his unlovely
countenance. When Hogarth came to hia
sitter's room Lovat jumped .up and kissed
him; and, while he sat, he counted on hia fin
gers, as thia picture shows, the names and
forces of the revolted clans. . While Lovat was
going to trial, a woman looked into the coach,
and eaid, "You ugly old dog, don't you think
you will have that frightful head cut off"
lie replied, "You ugly old , I believe I
shall." After many doubles, shifts, and
schemes which put one in mind of the death
of that creature with which he haa been mo3t
frequently compared, he went to execution
bravely, and waa "despatched at a blow." No
performer in that sad drama of the " '45" has
a stronger hold upon 'niany memories than
Flora Macdonald, whose portrait ia here (312),
from the handa of Allan Ramsay, son of "the
Gentle Shepherd;" a very curious and inter
esting picture, quite other in the features it
representa than that sentimental heroine who
bo commonly appears in piotures. Being dated
1749, it shows her when the bloom of lassie
hood had passed away, leaving the expression
of an extraordinarily resolute will in hard-set
grey eyes, inflexible-looking lips, and cueeka
that had begun to wither. It is a most striking
face, bitter, resentful, soured, and with all its
intensity, narrow in look. The other "Flora
Macdonald," by Hudson (314), ia the picture
of a round-faced young English ladyOf Allan
Ramsay as a painter we have VYalpole's rather
superfluous testimony in a letter to Sir David
Dalrymple: "I have discovered another very
agreeable writer among your countrymen,
and in a profession where I did not look for
an author; it is Mr. Ramsay the painter, whose
pieces being anonymous, nave been over
looked. He and Mr. Reynolds are our favorite
painters, and two of the very best we have
ever had." He adds that Ramsey painted
women better than Reynolds, but can hardly
have been sincere in saying so. It was not a
woman that Ramsay painted when he gave us
this David Hume (No. 379).
Readers of "Boswell'a Johnson" remember
that capital story about one Bet Flint, who, as
the Doctor with great glee told, "wrote her
own life in verse, which Bhe brought to me,
witihing I would furnish her with a preface to
it. I used to say to her that she waa gene
rally slut and drunkard, occasionally whore
and thief. Bhe had, however, genteel lodg
ings, a spinet on which she played, Jand a
bjy that walked before her chair. Poor Bet
waa taken up on a charge of stealing a coun
terpane, and tried at the Old Bailey. The
Chief JuBtice Willea, who loved a wench,
Bummed up favorably, and she was acquitted.
After which Bet said, with a gay and satisfied
air, 'Now that the counterpane is my own, I
shall make a petticoat of it.' " Bet Flint ia
not here; but her clement judge is No. 254,
"Sir John Willis. Knieht. Lord Chief Justice."
painted by HudBon. John Wilkea ia also here,
wtyh his acidulous and grim old-maidea daugh
ter, tainted bv Zoffunv ff54l. Nn. !!7K Via .n
Interest for readers of old books. It shows
btepben Cave, Johnson's employer and friend,
well known aa the publisher of St. John'a
Gate, Clerkenwell. of whom it was said ha
never looked out of window bat with a view
to the Utntleman'$ Alaqaaine.
What a wealth, of Rynoldea ia thia ExLi-
bitiun, and how in some of these portraita by
the great painter, he has enabled ua to see th
features of a few of thut wondrous group of
men whom he knew and loved ! One can but
run over names here; nothing more. Here is
Beattie (6i6), with the Angel of Truth behind
him, disposing of Voltaire; here Is Goldsmith
(.W); here is box (63); and here is Gibbon
(667) Reynolds' Gibbon, and very different
from Romney's, which is next It.
It was this picture which, Rogers tells us.
Fox saw at Lausanne, in these circumstances:
"Gibbon talked a great deal, walking np
and down the room, and generally ending his
sentences with a genitive case; every now and
then, too, casting a look of complacency at his
own portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which
hung over the chimney-piece; that wonderful
portrait in which, while the oddness and vul
garity of the features are refined away, the like
ness is preserved." Lastly, we have John
son himself by Reynolds in no fewer than live
versions, some looking as if he were bullying
uimui.t, oiuers moKing as ir he were praising
Hodge, his cat "for whom he used frequently
to go out and buy oysters, le8t the servants,
having that trouble, should take a dislike to
the poor creature." Boswell, who did not
like cats, Buffered a good deal from Hodge.
We really believe he was jealous of the pet.
He Btates, "I recollect him one day Bcrambling
up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with,
much satisfaction, while my friend, smiling
and half whistling, rubbed down his back anI
pulled him by the tail, and, when I observed
he waa a fine cat, saying, 'Why, yes, Bir, but
I have had cats whom I liked better than this;
and then, as if peroeiving Hodge to be out of
countenance, adding, 'but he ia a very fine
cat, a very fine cat, indeed.' " We believe there
is no picture of this Hodge, or any or his pre
decessors, except that which Boswell thus
painted in words.
Johnson, when tending towards the grave
wrote to Reynolds in thia ineffably yearning
way: "Write, do write to me now and then.
We are now old acquaintances, and perhaps
few people have lived so much and so long
together with leas cause of complaint on either '
side. The retrospection of this ia very plea
sant, and I hope we shall never think on each
other with less kindness." It is evident he
rejoices in thia. Haa any one noticed Johnson's
delicately tender request, made on his death
bed, that Reynolds would forgive him thirty
pounda he had borrowed ? It seems as if he
longed to take a kindness into the grave to
warm it. He left to Sir Joshua "my own copy
of my folio English' Dictionary of the last revi
sion." Thia was hia magnus opus, the nearest
to hia heart. Mr. Christie, the auctioneer,
lirst of the name, whose portrait by Gainsbo
rough is here (793), sold Dr. Johnson's library
of about five thousand volumes; it fetched no
more than 247 9a. Macmillan's Maqazine.
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