This great man showed from his infancy a strong inclination for drawing, and made so early a proficiency in it that, at the age of fourteen, he is said to have corrected the drawings of his master, Domenico Ghirlandaio. When Michael Angelo was an old man, one of these drawings being shown to him, he said, “In my youth I was a better artist than I am now.”
HOGARTH’S “MARCH TO FINCHLEY.”
This celebrated picture was disposed of by the painter by lottery. There were 1843 chances subscribed for; Hogarth gave the remaining 167 tickets to the Foundling Hospital, and the same night delivered the picture to the Governors. The fortunate number is generally stated to have been among the tickets which the painter handed to the Hospital; but, it is related in the Gentleman’s Magazine, though anonymously, that a lady was the possessor of the fortunate number, and intended to present it to the Foundling Hospital; but that some person having suggested what a door would be opened to scandal, were any of her sex to make such a present, it was given to Hogarth, on the express condition that it should be presented in his own name.
STORY OF A MINIATURE.
Mr. Gordon relates:—“M. Averani, a young French artist at Florence, had extraordinary talent for copying miniatures, giving them all the force of oil. I had frequently seen him at work in the gallery, and I purchased of him a clever copy of the Fornarina of Raphael, and one of the Venus Vestita of Titian, in the Pitti Palace, said to be the only miniature painted by this great man. It had a good deal of the character of Queen Mary Stuart, was painted on a gold ground, had great force, and was highly finished. I gave the artist his price, six sequins, and brought it to England. When I disposed of my vertu, in Sloane-street, previous to my settling in Scotland, this miniature made a flaming appearance in the catalogue. The gem was bought by a gentleman for fifty-five guineas. I thought I had done very well by this transaction, until I saw it advertised in the Morning Chronicle, stating that “an original portrait of Mary, Queen of Scotland, the undoubted work of Titian, value one thousand guineas, was to be seen at No. 14, Pall-mall; price of admission, 2s. 6d.” The bait took; the owner put three or four hundred pounds into his pocket by the exhibition, and sold the portrait for seven or eight hundred pounds. Here was I an innocent accessory to the greatest imposition that was ever practised on the public. As a work of art, it was worth all I got for it; and I was offered nearly that sum by a friend who knew its whole history. I understand that a nobleman was the purchaser of this beautiful miniature.”
SITTING FOR A HUSBAND.
John Astley, the painter, was born at Wem, in Shropshire. He was a pupil of Hudson, and was at Rome about the same time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. After his return to England, he went to Dublin, practised there as a painter for three years, and in that time earned 3000l. As he was painting his way back to London, in his own postchaise, with an outrider, he loitered in his neighbourhood, and, visiting Nutsford Assembly, he there saw Lady Daniel, a widow, who was so captivated by him, that she contrived to sit to him for her portrait, and then offered him her hand, which he at once accepted. Poor Astley, in the decline of life, was disturbed by reflections upon the dissipation of his early days, and was haunted with apprehensions of indigence and want. He died at his house, Duckenfield Lodge, Cheshire, Nov. 14, 1787, and was buried at the church of that village.