Art in England

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Young Lawrence, however, was not able at this time to read at random any
passages from the poets that might be selected for him. He had been
instructed in particular speeches, and to these, as a rule, he was
obliged to restrict his efforts. For a long time he had been wishing to
learn 'Satan's Address to the Sun,' a favourite recitation of his
father's; but old Lawrence had declined to intrust him with so important
a subject. Nevertheless the boy had acquainted himself with the tone and
manner appropriate to the piece, and announced that he was prepared to
deliver it in imitation of the elder orator. A family in Devizes, known
to the Lawrences, giving a party one evening, requested that the boy
might be permitted to attend and entertain the company with his readings
and recitations. Old Lawrence consented, on condition that the child was
not asked to read other than the pieces with which he was acquainted,
and cautioned his son by no means to attempt anything in which he was
not perfect, and particularly to avoid the address of Satan. In the
evening young Lawrence walked to the house with Shakespeare and Milton
under his arm, and went through his performances amid general applause.
He was then asked which was his favourite recitation in Milton? He
replied that he preferred 'Satan's Address to the Sun,' but that his
father would not permit him to repeat it. On this account, and to
ascertain whether the child merely performed parrot-fashion, the company
were especially anxious to hear the forbidden reading. Young Lawrence's
dutiful scruples, however, were not overcome until all present had
promised to intercede on his behalf and obtain for him his father's
forgiveness. As he turned to the interdicted page a slip of paper fell
from the book. A gentleman picked it up and read aloud--'Tom, mind you
don't touch Satan.' It was some time before the astonished boy could be
induced to proceed; yet he is said to have eventually dealt with the
subject very creditably and discreetly.

They were strange people these Lawrences, and the Black Bear must have
been a curious kind of inn. Miss Burney was greatly surprised at
hearing the sounds of singing and pianoforte-playing while she was
beneath its roof. It was only the Miss Lawrences practising--but the
inn-keepers' daughters of the last century were not generally possessed
of such accomplishments. Then, still very wonderful for an inn, 'the
house,' says Miss Burney, 'was full of books as well as paintings,
drawings, and music, and all the family seem not only ingenious and
industrious, but amiable; added to which they are strikingly handsome. I
hope,' the lady concludes, 'we may return the same road, that we may see
them again.'

As Garrick said of him, young Lawrence's walk in life was at this time
'poised between the pencil and the stage.' To which did he incline?
Would he be a player or a painter? It was hard to say. He had been taken
to town on a visit to Mr. Hugh Boyd (who at one time was supposed to be
one of the authors of 'Junius'), introduced to the great painters of the
day, and most kindly received by them. Sir Joshua Reynolds had
pronounced him 'the most promising genius he had ever met with.' Mr.
Hoare had been so charmed with the boy's drawings, that he proposed to
send him to Italy with his own son. On the other hand, he had been a
frequent visitor in the green-room of the Bath Theatre. Placed upon the
table there, the centre of a group of amused actors, he would recite
'Hamlet's Advice to the Players,' and other passages. On one of these
occasions, Henderson the tragedian was present, and expressed warm
approval of the child's efforts. Then, in return for the civilities and
compliments he received, young Lawrence would beg that he might take the
portraits of his friends among the company. We are told of his attempt
to draw the face of Edwin, the comedian, who the while grimaced and
distorted his features, constantly shifting the expression of his
countenance, greatly to the bewilderment of the boy artist. Finally he
stood silent and motionless, watching his model with a kind of despair,
until it became necessary to explain the joke that had been practised.
It should be said, however, that stories are current in relation to
similar jokes played by humourists upon other artists.

Old Lawrence had been compelled to abandon the Black Bear, and had
retreated to Bath with his family. 'Bath,' we are informed, 'was at that
time London devoid of its mixed society and vulgarity. It contained its
selection of all that was noble, affluent, or distinguished in the
metropolis; and amongst this circle our artist was now caressed.' It
became a kind of fashion to sit to him for oval crayon likenesses at a
guinea and a half apiece. Portraits from his pencil of Mrs. Siddons and
Admiral Barrington were now engraved, the artist being as yet only
thirteen years of age. His success as a portrait-painter seemed quite
assured; he was making money rapidly, largely contributing to the
support of his family. Yet he was not satisfied. He was greatly tempted
to try his fortune on the stage. His view was, that he could earn more,
and so could further assist his father by deserting the studio for the
theatre. Possibly, too, the display and excitement and applause which
pertain to the career of the successful player--and of course he thought
he should succeed--were very alluring to the young gentleman. He was now
little more than sixteen. He took counsel of a friendly actor, Mr. John
Bernard,[20] and favoured him with a private recitation of the part of
Jaffier in the tragedy of _Venice Preserved_. Mr. Bernard, it seems, was
not much impressed by this performance; at least he did not detect
sufficient dramatic ability in the young man to justify his proposed
change of profession. The actor, however, did not openly express his
opinion on the subject, but merely said he would bear the case in mind
and speak to his manager, Mr. Palmer, in regard to it. Meanwhile he
disclosed what had passed to old Lawrence. Acquainted by experience with
the precariousness of an actor's fortunes, and appreciative also of the
value of his son's talents as an artist, Lawrence entreated Bernard to
exert all his influence in dissuading the young man from his design. It
was determined at last to cure the stage-struck hero by means of a
trick--to pre-arrange his failure, in fact. Palmer, the manager, entered
into the plan. An appointment was made at Bernard's house, in order that
young Lawrence might have a private interview with the manager. In an
adjoining room were secreted his father and a party of friends. Bernard
introduced the young man to Palmer, who presently desired a specimen of
the aspirant's dramatic abilities, and took his seat at the end of the
room in the character of auditor and judge. A scene from _Venice
Preserved_ was selected, and young Lawrence commenced a recitation. For
several lines he proceeded perfectly, but soon he became nervous,
confused--he stammered, coughed, and at last stopped outright. Bernard
had the book in his hand, but he would not prompt, he withheld all
assistance. Young Lawrence began again, but his self-possession was
gone--his failure was more decided and humiliating than before. At this
juncture his father abruptly entered the room, crying out, 'You play
Jaffier, Tom? Hang me if you're fit to appear as a supernumerary!'--or
some such speech--and then young Lawrence found that his mortification
had not been without witnesses.

[20] The father of Mr. Bayle Bernard the dramatist.

It was very trying to his vanity. He had to listen to remonstrances and
appeals of all kinds. Palmer, the manager, assured him that he did not
possess the advantages requisite for success on the stage. Bernard spoke
with bitter truthfulness of the trials and sorrows of an actor's life.
Other friends drew attention to the brilliant prospect open to the
successful painter. Young Lawrence gave way at last. The theatre may
thus have lost an agreeable player, but, thanks to the manoeuvre of old
Lawrence, Bernard, and Palmer, a famous portrait-painter was secured to
the world of art.

IV.

In 1785 he received a medal from the Society of Arts for his crayon
drawing of 'Raphael's Transfiguration.' In 1787, being then seventeen,
he exhibited seven pictures at the Royal Academy. He painted his own
portrait, and wrote concerning it to his mother, 'To any but my own
family I certainly should not say this; but, excepting Sir Joshua for
the painting of the head, I would risk my reputation with any painter in
London.' The picture was broadly painted, three-quarter size, with a
Rembrandtish effect, as Sir Joshua detected when the canvas was shown to
him. 'You have been looking at the old masters; take my advice and study
nature.' He dismissed the young artist with marked kindness, however. In
1789, Martin Archer Shee described him as 'a genteel, handsome young
man, effeminate in his manner;' adding, 'he is wonderfully laborious,
and has the most uncommon patience and perseverance.' About this time he
painted the Princess Amelia, and Miss Farren, the actress, afterwards
Countess of Derby, 'in a white satin cloak and muff;' and full-length
portraits of the King and Queen, to be taken out by Lord Macaulay as
presents to the Emperor of China. In 1791 he was, at the express desire,
it was said, of the King and Queen, after one defeat, admitted an
associate of the Royal Academy by a suspension of the law prohibiting
the admission of an associate under the age of twenty-four. He was
opposed by many of the academicians, and bitterly attacked by Peter
Pindar.

Dr. Wolcot was especially angry at the alleged interference of royalty
in the election. In his satiric poem _The Rights of Kings_, he
expostulates ironically with certain academicians who ventured to oppose
the nominee of the Court:--

'How, sirs, on majesty's proud corns to tread!
Messieurs ACADEMICIANS, when you're dead,
Where can your impudences hope to go?

'Refuse a monarch's mighty orders!
It smells of treason--on rebellion borders!
'S death, sirs! it was the Queen's fond wish as well,
That _Master_ LAWRENCE should come in!
Against a queen so gentle to rebel!
This is another crying sin!

* * * * *

'Behold, his majesty is in a passion,
Tremble, ye rogues, and tremble all the nation!
Suppose he takes it in his, royal head
To strike your academic idol dead--
Knock down your house, dissolve you in his ire,
And strip you of your boasted title--"SQUIRE."[21]

* * * * *

'Go, sirs, with halters round your wretched necks,
Which some contrition for your crime bespeaks,
And much-offended majesty implore:
Say, piteous, kneeling in the royal view,
"Have pity on a sad abandoned crew,
And we, great king, will sin no more;
Forgive, dread sir, the crying sin,
And _Mister_ LAWRENCE shall come in!"'

[21] The diplomas of the Academicians constituted them ESQUIRES. In the
last century this designation was conferred and employed by society with
more scrupulousness than obtains at present.

The academicians had, it seems, in the first instance, elected FRANCIS
WHEATLEY, painter of rural and domestic subjects, in preference to
Lawrence. There had been then sixteen votes for Wheatley, and but three
for Lawrence.

'Yet opposition, fraught to royal wishes,
Quite counter to a gracious king's commands,
Behold the ACADEMICIANS, those strange fishes,
For WHEATLEY lifted their unhallowed hands.
So then, these fellows have not leave to crawl,
To play the spaniel lick the foot and fawn.'
Etc. etc. etc.

In 1792, he attended the funeral of Sir Joshua in St. Paul's Cathedral,
when Mr. Burke attempted to thank the members of the Academy for the
respect shown to the remains of their president, but, overcome by his
emotions, was unable to utter a word. In 1795, Mr. Lawrence was elected
a full member of the Academy, having previously succeeded Sir Joshua as
painter in ordinary to the King--Benjamin West being elected to the
presidential chair.

'Sir Joshua,' writes Northcote in his _Life of Reynolds_, 'expected the
appointment [of painter in ordinary] would be offered to him on the
death of Ramsay, and expressed his disapprobation with regard to
soliciting it; but he was informed that it was a necessary point of
etiquette with which he complied, and seems to have pleased Johnson by
so doing.'

Burke, reforming the King's household expenses, had reduced the salary
of King's painter from L200 to L50 per annum. But the office was
nevertheless a valuable source of emolument, derived in great part from
the number of State portraits of the sovereign, required, by usage, for
the adornment of certain official residences, and the duty and profit of
executing which devolved, as of right, on the painter in ordinary. Thus
the mansion of every ambassador of the crown, in the capital of the
foreign court to which he was accredited, exhibited in its reception
rooms whole-length portraits of the King and Queen of England. And these
works were not fixtures in the official residence, but were considered
as gifts from the sovereign to the individual ambassador, and remained
his property--his perquisites on the cessation of his diplomatic
functions. Each new appointment among the _corps diplomatique_,
therefore, brought grist to the mill of the painter in ordinary in the
shape of a new commission for a royal whole-length, usually a _replica_
of a previous work, but to be charged and paid for according to the
artist's usual scale of prices for original pictures. When Reynolds,
late in his career, accepted the appointment, its pecuniary advantages
were a matter of indifference to him, or he did not care to be for ever
reduplicating or reproducing the 'counterfeit presentment' of the
sovereign, and a fashion sprung up of compensating the ambassador with a
fixed sum of money, the estimated market value of the royal portrait;
his excellency not being in the least unwilling to accept the specie in
lieu of the picture. But Lawrence did not find it expedient to follow
Sir Joshua's example. He claimed a right to execute the portraits,
however numerous, of the sovereign, let the diplomatists be ever so
willing to take money instead. This claim was admitted, and he reaped
large profits accordingly.[22]

[22] See _Life of Sir M.A. Shee_, vol. i. p. 441.

Add to his unquestionable art-abilities, that he was courtly in manner,
an accomplished fencer and dancer, with a graceful figure and a handsome
face; that he possessed an exquisitely modulated voice; and large,
lustrous expressive eyes--the light in which seemed to be always
kindling and brilliant.

George the Fourth, indeed, pronounced him 'the most finished gentleman
in my dominions.' And then, though he had abandoned all thought of the
stage as a means of obtaining profit, there was nothing to prevent his
distinguishing himself in back drawing-rooms as an unprofessional
player. He was certified by no less a person than Sheridan to be 'the
best amateur actor in the kingdom.' Lawrence had greatly distinguished
himself in that respect at a theatrical _fete_ given by the Marquis of
Abercorn in 1803. 'Shall I give you an account of it?' writes the
painter to his sister. 'It was projected by a woman of great cleverness
and beauty--Lady Caher.... It was determined to do it in a quiet way,
and more as an odd experiment of the talents of the party than anything
else; but this and that friend would be offended; and at last it
swelled up to a perfect theatre (in a room), and a London audience. The
Prince, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, Lord and Lady Melbourne,
their sons, Lord and Lady Essex, Lord and Lady Amherst, with a long _et
cetera_, and, amongst the rest, Sheridan, were present.' The plays
performed were _The Wedding Day_, and _Who's the Dupe?_ Lawrence
represented Lord Rakeland in the one, and Grainger in the other. The
orchestra was behind the scenes. Lady Harriet Hamilton played the organ,
Lady Maria the piano; Lady Catherine the tambourine, the Honourable Mr.
Lamb the violoncello; other instrumentalists were hired--'a most perfect
orchestra--with admirable scenery, and light as day.' 'The Prince then
came in, and of course the orchestra struck up "God save the King." Then
a little terrifying bell rang--the curtain drew up--and _The Wedding
Day_ began. At first, I will own to you, Sheridan's face, the grave Duke
of Devonshire, and two or three staunch critics, made me feel
unpleasantly: for I opened the piece. However, this soon wore off; our
set played extremely well--like persons of good sense without
extravagance or buffoonery, and yet with sufficient spirit. Lady Caher,
Mr. J. Madox, and G. Lamb were the most conspicuous--the first so
beautiful that I felt love-making very easy. A splendid supper closed
the business.' Lawrence seems to have fancied that the propriety of his
joining in the theatricals might be questioned. Although his father and
mother had both been dead some years, their admonitions in respect of
his old love for the stage were still sounding in his ears. So he writes
with an air of apology to his sister--his senior by some years--'You
know me too well, dear Anne, to believe that I should be of such a
scheme under any but very flattering circumstances; as it is, I was
right to join in it. Lord Abercorn is an old Jermyn Street friend--a
staunch and honourable one, and particularly kind to me in real services
and very flattering distinctions. These all formed one strong reason for
joining in the thing; and another secret one was, that whatever tends to
heighten a character for general talent (when kept in prudent bounds) is
of use to that particular direction of it which forms the pursuit of
life. I have gained, then, and not lost by this (to you) singular step.
I am not going to be a performer in other families. I stick to Lord
Abercorn's: and for the rest I pursue my profession as quietly and more
steadily than ever.' Certainly Lawrence seemed a likely man to achieve
successes, both social and artistic. And he _did_ succeed
unquestionably.

Byron did not criticise leniently his contemporaries, but he records in
his diary: 'The same evening (he is writing of the year 1814) I met
Lawrence the painter, and heard one of Lord Grey's daughters play on the
harp so modestly and ingenuously, that she looked music. I would rather
have had my talk with Lawrence, who talked delightfully, and heard the
girl, than have had all the fame of Moore and me put together. The only
pleasure of fame is, that it paves the way to pleasure, and the more
intellectual the better for the pleasure and us too.'

V.

It is clear that Mr. Hoppner, 'portrait-painter to the Prince of Wales,'
had no mean opponent in Mr. Lawrence, 'portrait-painter in ordinary to
His Majesty.'

For a time the rivalry was continued in a spirit of much moderation. The
painters were calm and forbearing, and scrupulously courteous to each
other. Lawrence was too gentle and polite ever to breathe a word against
his antagonist, if, indeed, he did not respect his talents too highly to
disparage them. Perhaps he was conscious that victory would be his in
the end; as Hoppner might also have a presentiment that he was to be
defeated. He was of a quick temper; was a husband and a father; entirely
dependent on his own exertions, though he could earn five thousand a
year easily when fully employed. But certainly the innkeeper's son was
stealing away his sitters: even his good friends the Whigs. He chafed
under this. He began to speak out. He denounced Lawrence's prudent
abstinence from all political feeling as downright hypocrisy. He thought
it cowardice "to side with neither faction, and be ready and willing to
paint the faces of both." And then he commenced to talk disrespectfully
of his rival's art. He claimed for his own portraits greater purity of
look and style. 'The ladies of Lawrence,' he said, 'show a gaudy
dissoluteness of taste, and sometimes trespass on moral as well as
professional chastity.' This was purposed to be a terrible blow to
Lawrence. Of course there was plenty of repetition of the remark, and
people laughed over it a good deal. But in the end it injured Hoppner
rather than Lawrence. The world began to wonder how it was that the
painter to the purest court in Europe should depict the demure and
reputable ladies of St. James's with such glittering eyes and carmine
lips--a _soupcon_ of wantonness in their glances, and a rather needless
undraping of their beautiful shoulders; while the painter to the Prince
was bestowing on the giddy angels of Carlton House a decency that was
within a little of dull, a simplicity that was almost sombreness, a
purity that was prudery! The beauties of George III.'s court were not
displeased to be pictorially credited with a levity they did not dare to
live up or down to; and the ladies of the Prince's court, too honest to
assume a virtue they had not, now hastened to be represented by an
artist who appeared so admirably to comprehend their allurements. Poor
Mr. Hoppner was deserted by the Whig ladies; he had only now the Whig
lords to paint: unless he took up with landscape art, for which he had
decided talent, as many of the backgrounds to his pictures demonstrate.
He grew peevish and irritable. He took to abusing the old masters, and
cried out at the neglect of living men. Examining a modern work, he
would say: 'Ay, it's a noble picture, but it has one damning
defect--it's a thing of _to-day._ Prove it to be but two hundred years
old, and from the brush of a famous man, and here's two thousand guineas
for it.' Northcote tells of him: 'I once went with him to the hustings,
to vote for Home Tooke, and when they asked me what I was, I said, "A
painter." At this Hoppner was very mad all the way home, and said I
should have called myself "a portrait-painter." I replied that the world
had no time to trouble their heads about such distinctions.'

Hoppner now produced but few pictures, and these met with small success.
He looked thin and haggard, talked incoherently, gave way to bitter
repinings and despondency. He resented and misinterpreted, as has been
shown, Lawrence's inquiries as to his health. Certainly there is every
appearance of feeling in Lawrence's letter, where he writes to a friend,
'You will be sorry to hear it. My most powerful competitor, he whom only
to my friends I have acknowledged as my rival, is, I fear, sinking to
the grave. I mean, of course, Hoppner. He was always afflicted with
bilious and liver complaints (and to these must be greatly attributed
the irritation of his mind), and now they have ended in a confirmed
dropsy. But though I think he cannot recover, I do not wish that his
last illness should be so reported by me. You will believe that I can
sincerely feel the loss of a brother-artist from whose works I have
often gained instruction, and who has gone by my side in the race these
eighteen years.' Hoppner died on the 23d January 1810, in the
fifty-first year of his age. To quote Lawrence's letters again: 'The
death of Hoppner leaves me, it is true, without a rival, and this has
been acknowledged to me by the ablest of my present competitors; but I
already find one small misfortune attending it--namely, that I have no
sharer in the watchful jealousy, I will not say hatred, that follows the
situation.' A son of Hoppner's was consul at Venice, and a friend of
Lord Byron's in 1819.

'Hoppner,' says Haydon, 'was a man of fine mind, great nobleness of
heart, and an exquisite taste for music; but he had not strength for
originality. He imitated Gainsborough for landscape, and Reynolds for
portraits.' He held Northcote, Sir Joshua's pupil, however, in great
aversion. 'I can fancy a man fond of his art who painted like Reynolds,'
Hoppner would say; 'but how a man can be fond of art who paints like
that fellow Northcote, Heaven only knows!' There was no love lost
between them. 'As to that poor man-milliner of a painter Hoppner,' said
Northcote, 'I hate him, sir, I ha-a-ate him!'

According to Haydon, he was bilious from hard work at portraits and the
harass of fashionable life. And his post of portrait-painter to the
Prince had its trials. The Carlton House porter had been ordered to get
the railings fresh painted. In his ignorance the man went to Hoppner to
request his attention to the matter. Wasn't he the Prince's painter?
Hoppner was furious!

VI.

The factions of Reynolds and Romney lived again in the rivalry of
Hoppner and Lawrence. The painters appeared to be well matched. Hoppner
had the advantage of a start of ten years, though this was nearly
balanced by the very early age at which Lawrence obtained many of his
successes. Hoppner was also a handsome man, of refined address and
polished manner; he, too, possessed great conversational powers, while
in the matter of wit and humour he was probably in advance of his
antagonist. He was well read--'one of the best-informed painters of his
time,' Mr. Cunningham informs us--frank, out-spoken, open-hearted, gay,
and whimsical. He had all the qualifications for a social success, and
was not without some of those 'Corinthian' characteristics which were
indispensable to a man of fashion, from the Prince of Wales's point of
view. With Edrige, the associate miniature-painter, and two other
artists, he was once at a fair in the country where strong ale was
abounding, and much fun, and drollery, and din. Hoppner turned to his
friends. 'You have always seen me,'he said, 'in good company, and
playing the courtier, and taken me, I daresay, for a deuced well-bred
fellow, and genteel withal. All a mistake. I love low company, and am a
bit of a ready-made blackguard.' He pulls up his collar, twitches his
neckcloth, sets his hat awry, and with a mad humorous look in his eyes,
is soon in the thickest of the crowd of rustic revellers. He jests,
gambols, dances, soon to quarrel and fight. He roughly handles a brawny
waggoner, a practised boxer, in a regular scientific set-to; gives his
defeated antagonist half a guinea, rearranges his toilet, and retires
with his friends amidst the cheers of the crowd. It is quite a
Tom-and-Jerry scene. Gentlemen delighted to fight coal-heavers in those
days. Somehow we always hear of the gentlemen being victorious; perhaps
if the coal-heavers could tell the story, it would sometimes have a
different _denouement_. Unfortunately for Hoppner, he had to use his
fingers, not his fists, against Lawrence--to paint him down, not fight
him.

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