SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE.*
THE Life of Sir Thomas Lawrence was well worth writing, and with the material at his command Mr. Layard might have produeed a satisfactory biography. He has been content to give us this material (or a part of it) instead of the finished work ; and while we are grateful for what he has done, we cannot but regret that he did not indulge his ambition, and write a succinct and intelligible Life of Lawrence.
As Mr. Lay-aid says, Lawrence's character needs no white- washing; but the very fact that one hapless episode has been dragged from its context suggests that some sort of explana- tion is necessary. This Mr. Layarcl himself seems to acknow- ledge by the tone of his preface, and the best possible explanation would be a clear setting forth of an honourable and arduous career. It is not for us to judge of an ancient love affair in which all those involved behaved with an exquisite sensibility ; but we have every right to contemplate the progress and triumph of a most fortunate portrait-painter, who knew the men and women of the great world, who did his work to the universal applause, and who died at the zenith of his fame before a changing fashion had persuaded the younger generation to think ill of his performances. And though Mr. Layard's book is, by its design, somewhat disjointed, it is pos- sible to get from it a vivid impression of Sir Thomas Lawrence. Lawrence was as happy in his temperament as in his career. He was born with the very genius of success. No obstacle stood in the way of his advance, and from his childhood be sought difficulties only to surmount them. An infant prodigy, he lived down the misunderstanding and ridicule which commonly clh:g to a foolish precocity, and though he began the practice of his art at an age when most painters are at school, be did not exhaust the world's patience. The son of an innkeeper, whose house was the 'Black Bear' at Devizes, Thomas Lawrence was famous at five years of age. He recited Shakespeare, he drew portraits in pencil and chalk, and his prudent father presently carried him to Bath, where the world of fashion delighted in his skill. Had it been permitted, Lady Frances Harpur would have adopted him for her son. The Duchess of Devonshire, and the other great ladies of the time, sat to him for their portraits, and left him unspoilt by their flattery. He went through life with an easy non- chalance, and if he worked unceasingly, he never knew what it was to see his talent unrequited. Reckless in the management of money, he had the satisfaction of knowing that his extravagance was nearly related to generosity ; and though now and again he made an attempt to • Si,' Thome Lawrence's Latter•Bag. By G. B. Laps& London: George Al]en. [15e. net.] extricate himself from the toils of debt, the attempts were but half-hearted, and he died as he lived in a sort of splendid poverty. Thomas Conde, the noblest banker that ever came to the help of genius, more than once offered Lawrence his services. As early as 1804 he was scheming to place the painter's affairs upon a solid basis. "I hope you will look forward with as much eagerness," he wrote, "as I sincerely do to the prospect of complete emancipation, and think how soon two years pass away, when there seems, on my plan, to be a very fair prospect of your being able afterwards to employ the whole fruits of your labour as you like best." Two years, even three, passed away quickly enough, and Lawrence was no nearer emancipation. In 1807 Coutte was sure that there was no means of extricating him but by a Commission of Bankruptcy. "Sorry am I to name it," wrote the banker, "but you will find, if you can make up your mind to submit to the humiliation for a short period, it will save you an infinity of future mortification, and you may, when it is over, make a great sinking Fund, and do justice to those who are losers by you at the moment, which may clear all in time, and add a lustre to your name and character hereafter that will never be obscured." But it was not in the sunlight of bankruptcy that Lawrence sought a lustre for his name. He preferred to get through his difficulties as best he might, paying a little here and a little there, and now and again dining with his creditors, to his great chagrin, that they might be kept in good humour. The truth is, to Lawrence's mercurial disposition debt was a trifle. Magnificence of life was his first necessity, and he must attain it by any means, and despite the most tiresome humiliations.
His correspondents are many and various,—a.s various in temper as in style. Here, for instance, Lady Caroline Lamb regrets that he did not paint the portrait of Byron. "Had I brought one I hate to you "—she writes—" Good heavens, what a head you had painted—I see it now—all that others exaggerate you would have softened off—and a beauty would have arisen that sometimes for a moment exists, and that none have attempted even to seize that I remember. 'Oh 'tis light that never will shine again on life's dull stream.' " The postscript is as closely characteristic as the letter. "My quotation," adds Lady Caroline, "refers to your talent," doubtless fearing that Lawrence might suspect a compliment to the poet. But of all Lawrence's friends, none was more loyal than Lord Stewart, Castlereagh's son. Never did he cease to scheme for the painter's advancement. His letters are as persuasive as they are flamboyant ;— •
"Listen to my plan," he writes to Lawrence in 1816. "You once yielded to my Counsel before, and you have had candor to say You have not repented it. My schemes are like those of a Hussar at the Outposts, very short, very decided, and very prompt. When the gay Scenes in London close, and the Sittings of your beautiful Women languish from their emigrationto the Verdure and Shades of the Country—furnish Yourself with Letters from our Royal master to the Emperors Francis and Alexander, representing H.R.H.'s desire that You should proceed to their Capitals to take their pictures for ILR.H. Place Yourself next with a Messenger going to Vienna, and You will arrive with me in 10 Days. At -Vienna you shall have every thing as in Russell Square. You -shall paint the Emperor and Empress. If you will, Schwarzen- burg, Metternich, Madame Murat, and Young Napoleon."
Lawrence, always ready for adventure, responded gallantly to Lord Stewart's call. He encountered the Emperor Alexander at Aix-la-Chapelle, and under Lord Stewart's auspices he made his portrait. At Vienna he had an immediate success, both social and professional. Princes and Archduchesses sat to him, and he was so eagerly sought after that he could choose his hosts. "To-day I had two invitations," he writes in 1819. "One to dine at Prince Metternich's to meet the Persian, another to dine at the French Ambassador's. I accepted the latter, and when there I received an invitation to Comte Nicholas Esterhazy to see a French Play by some of the nobility of Vienna." And so, wherever he went, he accepted the homage that is offered to grandeur, and he well earned the title of a painter of Kings.
But the compliment paid him by Royal personages brought with it an inevitable drawback. His pictures became palatial in style as in motive. He flattered in paint as in speech, and the flattery of paint is less easily excusable than the flattery of speech. His canvases show us the great personages who sat to him, not as they were, but as they wished to appear. They lack character, as they lack sincerity. But it is not by his official portraits that we would judge Lawrence. Many of his snore modest works have a charm which is recognised to-day as during his lifetime. Withal he was a cultivated, courteous gentleman, who spoke and lived with the same elegance with which he painted- He touched the life of his time at many points, and he still awaits a competent biography. Meantime we must be content with what Mr. Layard has given us, and form our own conclusion from the painter's own letter-bag.
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