IN 1804, an 18-year-old aspiring artist named Benjamin Robert Haydon arrived in London from his native Plymouth, determined to make a name for himself.
He had an introduction to another Devonian painter, James Northcote, who, on being told that Haydon planned to devote himself to history painting, exclaimed: 'Heestoricaul peinter! Why, yee'll starve with a bundle of straw under yeer head!'
Northcote was not far wrong, although it took several decades for Haydon's tragedy to play itself out: having taken his own life in 1846, his tombstone recorded that: 'He devoted 42 years to the improvement of the taste of the English people in high art and died broken-hearted from pecuniary distress.' Haydon is remembered today for his memoirs and journals, which depict the artistic and social life of Regency and early-Victorian London with unforgettable vividness, and his often vast canvases languish unloved in the storerooms of many museums and galleries.
Yet, he was far from neglected: his portraits of such figures as his friend William Wordsworth were admired and he had a gift for satire in 1827, George IV bought his painting The Mock Election for 500 guineas. But this did not satisfy Haydon, who longed to be recognised as a history painter. His most memorable achievement in the genre is Curtius Leaping into the Gulf, a scene from Livy's history of Rome: in order to appease the gods, Curtius on horseback leapt into a chasm that had opened in the Forum.
Curtius is a self-portrait of Haydon, who, it is implied, was heroically sacrificing himself, in his case in the cause of high art.
Esta historia es de la edición October 02,2024 de Country Life UK.
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