STUART’S LAST PICTURE.
After the removal of Congress to Washington, Stuart followed, and resided there till 1806, when he went to Boston, and passed there the rest of his days. He painted a great many portraits, which are scattered all over the country. The last work he ever painted was a head of the elder John Quincy Adams. He began it a full-length: but he was an old man, and only lived to complete the head, which is considered one of his best likenesses, and shows that the powers of his mind and the magic of his pencil continued brilliant to the last. The picture was finished by that eminent and highly gifted artist, Thomas Sully, who would not touch the head, as he said, “he would have thought it little less than sacrilege.” He died in 1828, in the seventy-fifth year of his age.
STUART’S REPUTATION.
As a painter of heads, Stuart stands almost unrivalled in any age or country; beyond this he made no pretensions, and indeed bestowed very little care or labor. He used to express his contempt for fine finishing of the extremities, or rich and elegant accessories, which he used to say was “work for girls.” Whether these were his real sentiments, or affectation, it is difficult to determine. He was, however, totally deficient in that academic education which is necessary to success in the highest branch of the art—historical painting. He had genius enough to have distinguished himself in any branch, but he could not, or would not, brook the necessary toil.
STUART’S DRAWING.
Stuart never had patience to undergo the drudgery necessary to become a skillful draughtsman. His kind instructor, Mr. West, urged upon him its importance and necessity, and advised him to frequent the Royal Academy for this purpose, which he neglected to do. Trumbull relates that Fuseli, on being shown some of his drawings, observed in his usual sarcastic manner, “young man, if this is the best you can do, you had better go and make shoes.”
STUART A PUNSTER.
Stuart was an inveterate punster. Mr. Allston, calling on him a short time before his death, asked him how he was. “Ah!” said he, drawing up his pantaloons, and showing his emaciated leg, which in his youth had been his pride, “you can judge how much I am out of drawing.”
STUART BORN IN A SNUFF-MILL.
Stuart was an inordinate snuff-taker. He used to jocosely apologize for the habit, by saying that “he was born in a snuff-mill,” which was literally true, for his father was a manufacturer of snuff. He said, “a pinch of snuff had a wonderful effect upon a man’s spirits.” An old sea captain once observed to him, “you see, sir, I have always a nostril in reserve. When the right becomes callous after a few weeks’ usage, I apply for comfort to the left, which having had time to regain its sense of feeling, enjoys the blackguard till the right comes to its senses.” “Thank you,” said Stuart, “it’s a great discovery. Strange that I should not have made it myself, when I have been voyaging all my life in these channels.”