and that there may be a science called Physiognomy is evident. In the Numismata' is a long and most interesting chapter on Physiognomy, in which Evelyn compares the portraits of many great men with their characters as shown in history, or from what he himself knew of them. But Evelyn was a man not without his prejudices, and his characters are not always to be relied upon. Still, this chapter, Lavater's works, and Bell "On Expression" give nearly all that need be said upon the subject, though a small part only of what has been said. To many portraits are attached inscriptions, generally eulogistic, and frequently containing some expressions which convey an idea of the genius, acquirements or pursuits which have rendered the individual worth knowing. Some of these inscriptions are curious, and a few so striking that they have become as celebrated as the engravings they adorn. I shall be excused quoting those generally known as well as others, because many will be glad to have them verbatim, instead of merely a dim recollection of them, and those who know them by heart will be glad that others should know them as well. The first that will occur to any one at all acquainted with engraved portraits, will probably be the verses by Ben Jonson to the Droeshout portrait of Shakespeare originally prefixed to the rare 'first Folio' edition of his Works,* though adopted also in later editions. "This figure that thou here seest put, O could he but have drawn his wit As well in brass, as he has hit His face, the print would then surpass All that was ever writ in brass. B. J." These lines by Ben Jonson recall those no less celebrated, said to be by him, and printed in his Works, on Mary, Countess of Pembroke, though they were written not for a picture, but a tomb : *THE first Folio, that is to say the finest copy known, was purchased by Miss Burdett Coutts, at the sale of the Library of the late Mr. George Daniel, of Islington, in July 1864, for the sum of £716. 2s! It measures 133 inches by 84, is perfect from beginning to end, and has a brilliant impression of the portrait. Another copy of this exceedingly rare book, the property of Lord Charlemont, was sold the following year for £455. In this copy a corner of the title had been torn away, and the leaf of verses was pasted down. It was otherwise complete, but not in as good condition as the other. "Underneath this sable hearse Time shall throw a dart at thee." Then we have the lines to Milton's portrait by Dryden, which, however familiar they may be supposed to be, are scarcely ever quoted without some error in the important adjectives: "Three poets in three distant ages born, These lines have suggested numberless others. Prefixed to his 'Anima Astrologia,' by William Lilly, student in Astrology,' 1676, is a print containing portraits of Lilly, Cardan, and Guido Bonatus, with this explosive inscription : "Let Envy burst-Urania's glad to see But in one Lilly we behold them Two!" One of the most extraordinary inscriptions is that to a portrait of Lady Dorothy Boyle, painted by her mother Lady Burlington. Lady Boyle died from the cruel ill-treatment of her husband, George, Earl of Euston. She was the comfort and joy of her parents, the delight of all who knew her angelic temper, and the admiration of all who saw her beauty. She was marry'd October the 10th, 1741, and delivered, by death, from misery, May the 2d, 1742. This picture was drawn (from memory) seven weeks after her death, by her most affectionate Mother, Dorothy Burlington." This is the inscription to the picture as given by Lard Dover. (Walpole, i. 290.) Lady Burlington had it engraved (with the inscription slightly varied, it was said, by Pope) and presented it to her friends. Although many English engravings have inscriptions to them, the fashion was more general I think in France and Holland, and some of their best poets (as well as many of their worst) were often engaged to write these eulogistic verses. In a letter of Vandyke to the learned Francis Junius, which is in the British Museum, and printed by Mr. Carpenter in his very interesting and elaborate work on Vandyke, there occurs this passage (translated from the original Dutch): "As I have caused the portrait of the Chevalier Digby to be engraved, with a view to publication, I humbly request you to favour me with a little motto by way of inscription at the bottom of the plate, by which you will render me a service, and do me great honour." This would seem to have been done in the plate by Van Voerst. I give this extract here to show how these inscriptions —which in the 17th century were so general-were manufactured, as it were, to order. And poets could and did spin out eulogistic couplets by the yard as easily and with as much satisfaction as a Cheap Jack' evolves a Pharaoh's Serpent from a pewter platter. Walpole has amusingly described this plethora of encomia which Poets often exhibited. In speaking of Mrs. Anne Killigrew, who, besides being beautiful and a poet,—' a Grace for beauty and a Muse for wit'-was a painter also, painter also, "Dryden," he says, "has celebrated her genius for painting and poetry in a very long ode, in which the rich stream of his numbers has hurried along with it all that his luxurious fancy produced in his way; it is an harmonious hyperbole composed of the fall of Adam, Arethusa, Vestal Virgins, Diana, Cupid, Noah's Ark, the Pleiades, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and the Last Assizes." She seems to have been a sort of Lady O'Looney. She was maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and died of the small-pox in 1685. "Likewise she painted in water colours, and of such is the kingdom of Heaven." |