Recollections of the late William Beckford of Fonthill, Wilts and Lansdown, Bath | Page 3

dry and hard manner, the hands are done
inimitably, but the eyes are small, and the expression cold-hearted and
brutal. It conveys to my mind the exact idea of the cold-blooded wretch,
who consigned so many of his innocent countrymen to the flames." I
did not express all I thought, but I certainly wondered how the effigy of
such a monster should have found an asylum in this palace of taste.
Smithfield and its horrors rose vividly before me, and I turned, not
without a shudder, from this too faithful portrait to copies by Phillips of
some family pictures in the Royal Collection, painted by permission
expressly for Mr. Beckford, and looking more like originals than mere
copies.
But the picture of pictures in this room is a Velasquez, an unknown
head, the expression beyond anything I have ever seen. Such light and
shade, such expressive eyes; the very epitome of Spanish character. "Is
it not amazingly like Lord Byron?" "It certainly is very like him, but
much more handsome." This room is devoted entirely to portraits.
Mr. Beckford opened a door and we entered the Duchess Drawing
Room; a truly Royal room, the colour of the curtains, carpet, and
furniture being crimson, scarlet, and purple. Over the fireplace is a full
length portrait of the Duchess of Hamilton by Phillips, painted in the
rich and glowing style of that sweet colourist. It represents a beautiful
and truly dignified lady. The sleeves of the dress are close and small, as
worn in 1810 (Quel bonheur! d'etre jeune, jolie, et Duchesse), so truly
becoming to a finely formed woman, and so much superior to the
present horrid fashion of disfiguring the shape by gigot and bishop's
sleeves, which seem to have been invented expressly to conceal what is
indeed most truly beautiful, a woman's arm.
We were next shown a glorious Sir Joshua, a beautiful full length
portrait of Mrs. Peter Beckford, afterwards Lady Rivers, and the
"Nouronchar" of Vathek. She is represented approaching an altar

partially obscured by clouds of incense that she may sacrifice to Hygeia,
and turning round looking at the spectator. The background is quite
Titianesque; it is composed of sky and the columns of the temple, the
light breaking on the pillars in that forcible manner you see on the
stems of trees in some of Titian's backgrounds. The colouring of this
picture is in fine preservation, a delicate lilac scarf floats over the dress,
the figure is grace and elegance itself, and the drawing perfect; the
general effect is brilliancy, richness, and astonishing softness. "Sir
Joshua took the greatest pleasure and delight in painting that picture, as
it was left entirely to his own refined taste. The lady was in ill-health at
the time it was done, and Sir Joshua most charmingly conceived the
idea of a sacrifice to the Goddess of Health. Vain hope! Her disorder
was fatal."
There is a portrait of Mr. Beckford's mother painted by West, with a
view of Fonthill in the background. Never was there a greater contrast
in this and the last picture; West certainly knew nothing of portrait
painting. The tout ensemble of the portrait in question is as dry and
hard as if painted by a Chinese novice. There is also a portrait of the
Countess, of Effingham, Mr. Beckford's aunt. On one side is the
original portrait by Reynolds of the author of Vathek engraved as the
frontispiece of the "Excursions to the Monasteries." The character of
the original picture is much superior in expression to the print, less
stout, eyes very intellectual; in fact, you are convinced it must be the
portrait of a poet or of a poetical character. The face is very handsome,
so is the print, but that has nothing in it but what you meet with in a
good looking young man of fashion. This, on the contrary, has an
expression of sensibility, deeply tinged with melancholy, which gives it
great interest.
On the other side of Lady Rivers's portrait is the Duke of Hamilton
when a boy. A sweet child, with the hair cut straight along the forehead,
as worn by children some fifty years ago, and hanging luxuriantly
down his neck On the same side of the room, behind a bronze of the
Laocoon, is a wonderful sketch by Paolo Veronese, the drawing and
composition in the grand style, touched with great sweetness and
juiciness. Two small upright Bassans, painted conjointly by both,

bearing their names; the point of sight is immensely high.
We were then led down the north staircase. Fronting us was a portrait
of Mr. Beckford's father, the Alderman and celebrated Lord Mayor of
London. Mr. Goodridge asked him if he knew a book, just published,
denying the truth of his father's famous speech to George III.