Sunny Memories Of Foreign Lands, Volume 1Stowe, Harriet Beecher
History
Sunny Memories Of Foreign Lands, Volume 1
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
Europe -- Description and travel
By a contrivance quite new to me, the pictures are made to revolve on a
pivot, so that by touching a spring they move out from the wall, and can
be seen in different lights. There was a picture over the mantel-piece
of a Roman Triumphal Procession, painted by Rubens, which attracted my
attention by its rich coloring and spirited representation of animals.
The coloring of Rubens always satisfies my eye better than that of any
other master, only a sort of want of grace in the conception disturbs
me. In this case both conception and coloring are replete with beauty.
Rogers seems to be carefully waited on by an attendant who has learned
to interpret every motion and anticipate every desire.
I took leave of him with a touch of sadness. Of all the brilliant circle
of poets, which has so delighted us, he is the last--and he so feeble!
His memories, I am told, extend back to a personal knowledge of Dr.
Johnson. How I should like to sit by him, and search into that cabinet
of recollections! He presented me his poems, beautifully illustrated by
Turner, with his own autograph on the fly leaf. He writes still a clear,
firm, beautiful hand, like a lady's.
After that, we all went over to Stafford House, and the Duke and
Duchess of Sutherland went with us into Lord Ellesmere's collection
adjoining. Lord Ellesmere sails for America to-day, to be present at the
opening of the Crystal Palace. He left us a very polite message. The
Duchess of Argyle, with her two little boys, was there also. Lord
Carlisle very soon came in, and with him--who do you think? Tell Hattie
and Eliza if they could have seen the noble staghound that came bounding
in with him, they would have turned from all the pictures on the wall to
this living work of art.
Landseer thinks he does well when he paints a dog; another man chisels
one in stone: what would they think of themselves if they could string
the nerves and muscles, and wake up the affections and instincts, of the
real, living creature? That were to be an artist indeed! The dog walked
about the gallery, much at home, putting his nose up first to one and
then another of the distinguished persons by whom he was surrounded; and
once in a while stopping, in an easy race about the hall, would plant
himself before a picture, with his head on one side, and an air of
high-bred approval, much as I have seen young gentlemen do in similar
circumstances. All he wanted was an eyeglass, and he would have been
perfectly set up as a critic.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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