Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2), Frances Ann Kemble [i can read book club .txt] 📗
- Author: Frances Ann Kemble
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Lights And Shadows Which That Texture Afforded Above All Others. He Has
Dressed A Great Many Of His Female Portraits In White Satin. He Also
Once Said That He Had Been Haunted At One Time With The Desire To Paint
A Blush, That Most Enchanting "Incident" In The Expression Of A Woman's
Face, But, After Being Driven Nearly Wild With The Ineffectual Endeavor,
Volume 1 Chapter 12 Pg 26Had Had To Renounce It, Never, Of Course, He Said, Achieving Anything
But A _Red Face_. I Remember The Dreadful Impression Made Upon Me By A
Story He Told My Mother Of Lady J---- (George The Fourth's Lady J----),
Who, Standing Before Her Drawing-Room Looking-Glass, And Unaware That He
Was In The Rooms, Apostrophized Her Own Reflection With This Reflection:
"I Swear It Would Be Better To Go To Hell At Once Than Live To Grow Old
And Ugly."
Lawrence Once Said That We Never Dreamed Of Ourselves As Younger Than We
Were; That Even If Our Dreams Reproduce Scenes And People And
Circumstances Of Our Youth And Childhood We Were Always Represented, By
Our Sleeping Imagination, At Our Present Age. I Presume He Spoke Of His
Own Experience, And I Cannot Say That I Recollect Any Instance In Mine
That Contradicts This Theory. It Seems Curious, If It Is True, That In
The Manifold Freaks Of Our Sleeping Fancy Self-Consciousness Should
Still Exist To A Sufficient Degree To Preserve Unaltered One's Own
Conditions Of Age And Physical Appearance. I Wonder Whether This Is
Really The Common Experience Of People's Dreams? Frederick Maurice Told
Me A Circumstance In Curious Opposition To This Theory Of Lawrence's. A
Young Woman Whom He Knew, Of More Than Usual Mental And Moral
Endowments, Married A Man Very Much Her Inferior In Mind And Character,
And Appeared To Him To Deteriorate Gradually But Very Perceptibly Under
His Influence. "As The Husband Is, The Wife Is," Etc. Toward The Middle
Of Her Life She Told Him That At One Time She Had Carried On A Double
Existence In Her Sleeping And Waking Hours, Her Dreams Invariably Taking
Her Back To The Home And Period Of Her Girlhood, And That She Resumed
This Dream-Life Precisely Where She Left It Off, Night After Night, For
A Considerable Period Of Time,--Poor Thing!--Perhaps As Long As The
Roots Of The Young Nobler Self Survived Below The Soil Of A Baser
Present Existence. This Story Seemed To Me Always Very Pathetic. It Must
Have Been Dismal To Lose That Dream Life By Degrees, As The Real One Ate
More And More Into Her Nature.
Of Lawrence's Merit As A Painter An Unduly Favorable Estimate Was Taken
During His Life, And Since His Death His Reputation Has Suffered An
Undue Depreciation. Much That He Did Partook Of The False And Bad Style
Which, From The Deeper Source Of Degraded Morality, Spread A Taint Over
All Matters Of Art And Taste, Under The Vicious Influence Of The "First
Gentleman Of Europe," Whose Own Artistic Preferences Bore Witness, Quite
As Much As The More Serious Events Of His Life, How Little He Deserved
The Name. Hideous Chinese Pagoda Pavilions, With Grotesque And Monstrous
Decorations, Barbarous Alike In Form And In Color; Mean And Ugly
Low-Roomed Royal Palaces, Without Either Magnificence Or Simplicity;
Military Costumes, In Which Gold And Silver Lace Were Plastered Together
On The Same Uniform, Testified To The Perverted Perception Of Beauty And
Fitness Which Presided In The Court Of George The Fourth. Lawrence's Own
Portrait Of Him, With His Corpulent Body Girthed In His Stays And
Creaseless Coat, And His Heavy Falling Cheek Supported By His Stiff
Stock, With His Dancing-Master's Leg And His Frizzled Barber's-Block
Head, Comes As Near A Caricature As A Flattered Likeness Of The Original
(Which Was A Caricature) Dares To Do. To Have Had To Paint That Was
Enough To Have Vulgarized Any Pencil. The Defect Of Many Of Lawrence's
Female Portraits Was A Sort Of Artificial, Sentimental _Elegantism_.
Pictures Of The Fine Ladies Of That Day They Undoubtedly Were; Pictures
Volume 1 Chapter 12 Pg 27Of _Great_ Ladies, Never; And, In Looking At Them, One Sighed For The
Exquisite Simple Grace And Unaffected Dignity Of Reynolds's And
Gainsborough's Noble And Gentle Women.
The Lovely Head Of Lady Nugent, The Fine Portrait I Have Mentioned Of
Mrs. W----, The Splendid One Of Lady Hatherton, And The Noble Picture Of
My Grandmother, Are Among The Best Productions Of Lawrence's Pencil; And
Several Of His Men's Portraits Are In A Robust And Simple Style Of Art
Worthy Of The Highest Admiration. His Likeness Of Canning (Which, By The
Bye, Might Have Passed For His Own, So Great Was His Resemblance To The
Brilliant Statesman) And The Fine Portrait He Painted For Lord Aberdeen,
Of My Uncle John, Are Excellent Specimens Of His Best Work. He Had A
Remarkable Gift Of Producing Likenesses At Once Striking And Favorable,
And Of Always Seizing The Finest Expression Of Which A Face Was Capable;
And None Could Ever Complain That Lawrence Had Not Done Justice To The
Very Best Look They Ever Wore. Lawrence's Want Of Conscience With Regard
To The Pictures Which He Undertook And Never Finished, Is Difficult To
Account For By Any Plausible Explanation. The Fact Is Notorious, That In
Various Instances, After Receiving The Price Of A Portrait, And
Beginning It, He Procrastinated, And Delayed, And Postponed The
Completion, Until, In More Than One Case, The Blooming Beauty Sketched
Upon His Canvas Had Grown Faded And Wrinkled Before The Image Of Her
Youthful Loveliness Had Been Completed.
The Renewal Of Intercourse Between Lawrence And My Parents, So Soon To
Be Terminated By His Death, Was The Cause To Me Of A Loss Which I Shall
Never Cease To Regret. My Father Had Had In His Library For Years
(Indeed, As Long As I Remember) A Large Volume Of Fine Engravings Of The
Masterpieces Of The Great Italian Painters, And This Precious Book Of
Art We Were Occasionally Allowed To Look At For An Hour Of Rare Delight;
But It Belonged To Sir Thomas Lawrence, And Had Accidentally Been Kept
For This Long Space Of Time In My Father's Possession. One Of My
Mother's First Acts, On Again Entering Into Friendly Relations With
Lawrence, Was To Restore This Piece Of Property To Him; A Precipitate
Act Of Honesty Which I Could Not Help Deploring, Especially When, So
Soon After This Deed Of Rash Restitution, His Death Brought Those
Beautiful Engravings, With All The Rest Of His Property, To The Hammer.
There Is No Early Impression Stronger In My Mind Than That Of Some Of
Those Masterpieces, Which, Together With Winckelmann's Fine Work On
Classical Art (Our Familiarity With Which I Have Elsewhere Alluded To),
Were Among The First Influences Of The Sort Which I Experienced. Nor Can
I Ever Be Too Grateful That, Restricted As Were My Parents' Means Of
Developing In Us The Highest Culture, They Were Still Such As, Combined
With Their Own Excellent Taste And Judgment, Preserved Us From That
Which Is Far Worse Than Ignorance, A Liking For Anything Vulgar Or
Trivial. That Which Was Merely Pretty, In Music, Painting, Or Poetry,
Was Never Placed On The Same Level In Our Admiration With That Which Was
Fine; And Though, From Nature As Well As Training, We Enjoyed With Great
Zest Every Thing That Could In Any Sense Be Called Good, Our Enthusiasm
Was Always Reserved For That Which Was Best, An Incalculable Advantage
In The Formation Of A Fine Taste And Critical Judgment. A Noble Ideal
Beauty Was What We Were Taught To Consider The Proper Object And Result
Of All Art. In Their Especial Vocation This Tendency Caused My Family To
Be Accused Of Formalism And Artificial Pedantry; And The So-Called
"Classical" School Of Acting, To Which They Belonged, Has Frequently
Since Their Time Been Unfavorably Compared With What, By Way Of
Contrast, Has Been Termed The Realistic Or Natural Style Of Art. I Do
Not Care To Discuss The Question, But Am Thankful That My Education
Preserved Me From Accepting Mere Imitation Of Nature As Art, On The
Stage Or In The Picture Gallery; And That, Without Destroying My Delight
In Any Kind Of Beauty, It Taught Me A Decided Preference For That Which
Was Highest And Noblest.
All Being In Due Preparation For My Coming Out, My Rehearsals Were The
Only Interruption To My Usual Habits Of Occupation, Which I Pursued Very
Steadily In Spite Of My Impending Trial. On The Day Of My First
Appearance I Had No Rehearsal, For Fear Of Over-Fatigue, And Spent My
Morning As Usual, In Practicing The Piano, Walking In The Inclosure Of
St. James's Park Opposite Our House, And Reading In "Blunt's Scripture
Characters" (A Book In Which I Was Then Deeply Interested) The Chapters
Relating To St. Peter And Jacob. I Do Not Know Whether The Nervous
Tension Which I Must Have Been Enduring Strengthened The Impression Made
Upon Me By What I Read, But I Remember Being Quite Absorbed By It, Which
I Think Was Curious, Because Certainly Such Subjects Of Meditation Were
Hardly Allied To The Painful Undertaking So Immediately Pressing Upon
Me. But I Believe I Felt Imperatively The Necessity Of Moderating My Own
Strong Nervous Emotion And Excitement By The Fulfillment Of My
Accustomed Duties And Pursuits, And Above All By Withdrawing My Mind
Into Higher And Serener Regions Of Thought, As A Respite And Relief From
The Pressure Of My Alternate Apprehensions Of Failure And Hopes Of
Success. I Do Not Mean That It Was At All A Matter Of Deliberate
Calculation Or Reflection, But Rather An Instinct Of Self-Preservation,
Which Actuated Me: A Powerful Instinct Which Has Struggled And Partially
Prevailed Throughout My Whole Life Against The Irregular And Passionate
Vehemence Of My Temperament, And Which, In Spite Of A Constant Tendency
To Violent Excitement Of Mind And Feeling, Has Made Me A Person Of
Unusually Systematic Pursuits And Monotonous Habits, And Been A Frequent
Subject Of Astonishment, Not Unmixed With Ridicule, To My Friends, Who
Have Not Known As Well As Myself What Wholesomeness There Was In The
Method Of My Madness. And I Am Persuaded That Religion And Reason Alike
Justify Such A Strong Instinctive Action In Natures Which Derive A
Constant Moral Support, Like That Of The Unobserved But All-Sustaining
Pressure Of The Atmosphere, From The Soothing And Restraining Influence
Of Systematic Habits Of Monotonous Regularity. Amid Infinite Anguish And
Errors, Existence May Preserve A Species Of Outward Symmetry And Harmony
From This Strong Band Of Minute Observance Keeping Down And Assisting
The Mind To Master Elements Of Moral And Mental Discord And Disorder,
For The Due Control Of Which The Daily And Hourly Subjection To
Recurring Rules Is An Invaluable Auxiliary To Higher Influences. The
External Practice Does Not Supply But Powerfully Supplements The
Internal Principle Of Self-Control.
My Mother, Who Had Left The Stage For Upward Of Twenty Years, Determined
To Return To It On The Night Of My First Appearance, That I Might Have
The Comfort And Support Of Her Being With Me In My Trial. We Drove To
The Theater Very Early, Indeed While The Late Autumn Sunlight Yet
Lingered In The Sky; It Shone Into The Carriage, Upon Me, And As I
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