Recollections of the late William Beckford of Fonthill, Wilts and Lansdown, Bath | Page 8

is visible, their bodies being concealed by

the steps of the throne. This is a noble picture; but in my eyes the
extreme plainness of the steps of the throne and the unornamented war
boots of the king have a bare and naked appearance. They contrast
rather too violently with the whole of the upper part of the picture.
Over the steps are painted in Roman letters Rx. Ps. 4s. (Rex Philippus
quartos). Many who have hardly heard the painter's name will of course
not admire it, being done neither by Titian nor Vandyke; but Mr.
Beckford's taste is peculiar. He prefers a genuine picture by an inferior
painter to those attributed to the more celebrated masters, but where
originality is ambiguous, or at least if not ambiguous where picture
cleaner, or scavengers, as he calls them, have been at work. In this
room, suspended from the ceiling by a silken cord, is the silver gilt
lamp that hung in the oratory at Fonthill. Its shape and proportion are
very elegant, and no wonder; it was designed by the author of "Italy"
himself. How great was my astonishment some time after, on visiting
Fonthill, at perceiving, suspended from the cul de lamp, the very
crimson cord that once supported this precious vessel! The lamp had
been hastily cut down, and the height of the remains of the cord from
the floor was probably the reason of its preservation.
Mr. Beckford next pointed out a charming sketch by Rubens, clear and
pearly beyond conception. It is St. George and the Dragon, the dragon
hero and his horse in the air, and the dragon must certainly have been
an African lion. Mr. Beckford called the beast, or reptile, a mumpsimus
(sic). "Do look at the Pontimeitos in the beautiful sketch," said he,
"there is a bit from his pencil certainly his own. Don't imagine that
those great pictures that bear his name are all his pictures. He was too
much of a gentleman for such drudgery, and the greatest part of such
pictures (the Luxembourg for instance) are the works of his pupils from
his original designs certainly; they were afterwards retouched by him,
and people are silly enough to believe they are all his work. But mark
well the difference in execution between those great gallery pictures
and such a gem as this." Mr. Beckford then showed me a "Ripon" by
Polemberg, a lovely classic landscape, with smooth sky, pearly distance,
and picturesque plains; the Holy Family in the foreground. "Do take
notice of the St. Joseph in this charming picture," he said. "The painters
too often pourtray him as little better than a vagabond Jew or an old

beggar. Polemberg had too much good taste for such caricaturing, and
you see he has made him here look like a decayed gentleman."
Mr. Beckford drew aside another curtain, and we entered the front
drawing room, of larger dimensions, but fitted up in a similar style. The
first thing that caught my eye was the magnificent effect produced by a
scarlet drapery, whose ample folds covered the whole side of the room
opposite the three windows from the ceiling to the floor. Mr.
Beckford's observation on his first view of Mad. d' Aranda's boudoir
instantly recurred to my mind. These are his very words: "I wonder
architects and fitters-up of apartments do not avail themselves more
frequently of the powers of drapery. Nothing produces so grand and at
the same time so comfortable an effect. The moment I have an
opportunity I will set about constructing a tabernacle larger than the
one I arranged at Ramalhad, and indulge myself in every variety of
plait and fold that can be possibly invented." "I never was so
convinced," I said, "of the truth of your observations as at the present
moment. What a charming and comfortable effect does that splendid
drapery produce!" "I am very fond of drapery," he replied, "but that is
nothing to what I had at Fonthill in the great octagon. There were
purple curtains fifty feet long."
Here was a cabinet of oak, made in Bath, in form most classical and
appropriate. On one side stood two massive and richly chased silver gilt
candlesticks that formerly were used in the Moorish Palace of the
Alhambra. "Then you have visited Granada?" I inquired. "More than
once." "What do you think of the Alhambra?" "It is vastly curious
certainly, but many things there are in wretched taste, and to say truth I
don't much admire Moorish taste."
Mr. Beckford next pointed out a head in marble brought from Mexico
by Cortez, which was for centuries in the possession of the Duke of
Alba's family, and was given to the present proprietor by the Duchess.
"Her fate was very tragical," he observed. In a small