Art in England | Page 7

a very delicious paradise.' The artist also
dined with the author, and was regaled with 'China oranges off my own
trees, as good, I think, as ever were eaten.' For works executed in
Windsor Castle between the years 1676 and 1681, he received the sum
of £6845, 8s. 4d. Vertue copied the account 'from a half-sheet of paper
fairly writ in a hand of the time.' It particularizes the rooms decorated,
and the cost. For the king's guard chamber, £300; for the king's
presence chamber, £200; for the queen's drawing-room, £250; for the
queen's bed-chamber, £100; and so on, until the enormous total is

reached. Of his paintings in St. George's Hall Evelyn writes, 'Verrio's
invention is admirable, his ordnance full and flowing, antique and
heroical; his figures move; and if the walls hold (which is the only
doubt, by reason of the salts, which in time and in this moist climate
prejudice), his work will preserve his name to ages.' He employed
many workmen under him, was of extravagant habits, and kept a great
table. He considered himself as an art-monarch entitled to considerable
state and magnificence. He was constant in his applications to the
Crown for money to carry on his works. With the ordinary pertinacity
of the dun, he joined a freedom which would have been remarkable, if
the king's indulgence and good humour had not done so much to foster
it. Once, at Hampton Court, having lately received an advance of a
thousand pounds, he found the king so encircled by courtiers that he
could not approach. He called out loudly and boldly--
'Sire! I desire the favour of speaking to your Majesty.'
'Well, Verrio,' the king inquired, 'what is your request?'
'Money, sire! I am so short in cash that I am not able to pay my
workmen, and your Majesty and I have learned by experience that
pedlars and painters cannot give credit long.'
The king laughed at this impudent speech, and reminded the painter
that he had but lately received a thousand pounds.
'Yes, sire,' persisted Verrio, 'but that was soon paid away.'
'At that rate, you would spend more than I do to maintain my family.'
'True, sire,' answered the painter; 'but does your Majesty keep an open
table as I do?'
Verrio designed the large equestrian portrait of the king for the hall of
Chelsea College, but it was finished by Cooke, and presented by Lord
Ranelagh. On the accession of James II. he was again employed at
Windsor in Wolsey's tomb-house, which it was intended should be used
as a Roman Catholic chapel. He painted the king and several of his

courtiers in the hospital of Christchurch, London, and he painted also at
St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
But soon there was an end of his friends and patrons, the Stuarts. James
had fled; William of Orange was on the throne; a revolution had
happened little favourable to Signor Verrio's religion or political
principles. There is a commendable staunchness in his adherence to the
ruined cause: in his abandoning his post of master-gardener, and his
refusal to work for the man he regarded as a usurper; though there is
something ludicrous in the notion of punishing King William by
depriving him of Verrio's art. He did not object, however, to work for
the nobility. For some years he was employed by Lord Exeter at
Burleigh, and afterwards at Chatsworth. He was true to his old
execrable style. He introduced his own portrait in a picture-history of
Mars and Venus, and in the chapel at Chatsworth he produced a
dreadful altar-piece representing the incredulity of St. Thomas. He
painted also at Lowther Hall. For his paintings at Burleigh alone he was
paid more money than Raphael or Michael Angelo received for all their
works. Verrio was engaged on them for about twelve years,
handsomely maintained the while, with an equipage at his disposal, and
a salary of £1500 a year. Subsequently, on the persuasion of Lord
Exeter, Verrio was induced to lend his aid to royalty once more, and he
condescended to decorate the grand staircase at Hampton Court for
King William. Walpole suggests that he accomplished this work as
badly as he could, 'as if he had spoiled it out of principle.' But this is
not credible. The painting was in the artist's usual manner, and neither
better nor worse--and his best was bad enough, in all conscience. His
usual faults of gaudy colour, bad drawing, and senseless composition
were of course to be found; but then, these were equally apparent in all
his other works. Later in life his sight began to fail him, and he
received from Queen Anne a pension of £200 a year for his life. To the
last royal favour was extended to him, and he was selected to