ONE fine day at the end of 1759, Cupid swapped his arrow for a brush. When wealthy widow Penelope Dukinfield Daniell met painter John Astley at the Knutsford Assembly in Cheshire, she was so smitten that she asked him to paint her portrait. He turned up the following morning and, between a brushstroke and the next, they got on so well that, within a week, they were married. Astley (about 1724–87) had secured his fortune and all because of a chance encounter.
The son of a surgeon from Wem, Shropshire, Astley had moved to London in the early 1740s to train as an artist under Thomas Hudson, where he struck up a friendship with another pupil, Joshua Reynolds. The two met again in 1747 in Italy, where Astley, after a spell in Florence, secured a place with the celebrated Roman artist Pompeo Batoni. However, the Shropshire lad was desperately strapped for cash: when he (reluctantly) took off his coat at a picnic in the Roman countryside, it became obvious that his waistcoat had partly been fashioned from one of his canvases ‘and thus displayed a tremendous waterfall on his back,’ according to James Northcote’s The Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, first published in 1813.
Nor did things get any better when Astley returned to Florence—despite commissions from his patron Horace Mann, whose portrait he would paint for Horace Walpole—or Paris, where Lord Cardigan called him somewhat optimistically ‘le Titien Anglois’, and even once he was back home in Britain. Although in London he painted many notable sitters, he also encountered sharp criticism. Walpole,
who had initially appreciated Astley’s portrait of Mann, albeit noting it was better coloured than drawn, later gave him short shrift: ‘He has got too much into the style of the four thousand English painters about town, and is so intolerable as to work for money, not for fame: in short, he is not such a Rubens.’
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة June 05, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة June 05, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning