Intimate Intimate Intimate Intimate objectsobjectsobjectsobjects

British Portraits from Smart to Spencer in

The Fitzwilliam Museum

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Fig. Fig. Fig. Fig. 1. 1. 1. 1. John SmartJohn SmartJohn SmartJohn Smart (1741 (1741 (1741 (1741----1811)1811)1811)1811), , , , SelfSelfSelfSelf----PortraitPortraitPortraitPortrait, 1783, 1783, 1783, 1783

Watercolour and bodycolour on ivory, 3.8 x 2.9 cm.

Lent anonymously to The Fitzwilliam Museum.

Provenance

• Collection of J. R. Menzies, North Berwick

• Sotheby’s 28 June 1935 (lot 156) as a portrait of William Rankin Allen

• Arthur Jaffé

JJJJOHN SMART OHN SMART OHN SMART OHN SMART (1741(1741(1741(1741----1811)1811)1811)1811)

‘Unsurpassed in the whole of the eighteenth century either in his portrayal of character or in sheer honest representation - in true nobility the works of John Smart are in a class of their own.'i

John Smart is thought to have born in Norfolk in 1742 and he was enrolled, on 23 September 1755, at William Shipley's (founder of the Royal Society of Arts) drawing academy on St Martin's Lane, London. This appears to have been his only formal artistic training and it is not known where he learnt to paint miniatures. Smart exhibited his capabilities as a draughtsman from a young age, entering pencil and chalk drawings in the Society of Arts competitions. In the 1755 competition he came second to Richard Cosway and went on to win each of the following three years. Smart and Cosway would continue to compete throughout their professional careers as miniature painters vying, along with others, for commissions.

Smart became one of the foremost miniaturists in London, where competition amongst artists was strong. However, he soon realised the potential for work in India and he set sail for Madras in the autumn of 1785. Proving the extent of competition between miniaturists, this move was met with notable concern by Ozias Humphrey.ii Fortunately, Humphrey set himself up in Calcutta and Smart stayed in Madras so the two artists were never in direct competition. Smart worked in Madras for ten years where he painted wealthy English residents and Indian princes (Fig.2). Smart’s portraits from his time in India are easily identifiable as he included an ‘I’ for ‘India’ after his usual signature and date. He returned to London at the end of 1795 and

Fig.2

immediately re-established his practice there. He lived first at 20 Grafton Street, London, but in about 1799 moved to 2 Russell Place, Fitzroy Square with his second wife, Edith Vere.

The Self-portrait (Fig.1) dates from 1783, by which time Smart had been a professional painter for over twenty years. After over a decade exhibiting with the Society of Artists, Smart was made its director in 1771, vice-president in 1777 and president in 1778. In addition to these honours, his success enabled him to amass significant personal wealth and when he eventually died in 1811, he left close to £9000 in his estate.

Making miniaturesMaking miniaturesMaking miniaturesMaking miniatures

The eighteenth century saw a shift in portrait miniature painting, from the use of vellum as a support to a preference for ivory. This change is somewhat puzzling as ivory does not provide a good painting surface for artists, being naturally oily and non-absorbent. These qualities make it rather ill-suited to the application of water-based paints. Moreover, initially artists did not make use of the translucency of ivory as densely painted layers obscured the support and the ivory itself is was cut too thick to take advantage of its qualities. Ivory was, however, a luxurious material. Indeed , Marcia Pointon has recognised that although it took some time for artists to explore the potential visual effects that ivory could offer their paintings, ‘the material was more consonant with the idea of precious jeweller’s work than vellum.'iii Miniatures were personal but fashionable luxury objects that were worn and seen (or worn to be seen at the discretion of the wearer). This is made evident by their appearance adorning many sitters in oil paintings and prints of the period. Certainly, the ivory does not seem out of place.

When portrait miniatures were at their height of popularity, in the second half of the eighteenth century, artists were able to refine their technique. Smart’s miniatures are predominantly painted on ivory and the rest on paper.iv The ivory was cut more thinly by this time, and the surface could be scraped and ground with glass-paper and wet pumice powder to smooth it.

Excess grease could be removed with vinegar and garlic. Interest in the challenge of painting on ivory and the skill required to succeed at it is revealed in Arthur Parsey’s 1831 publication, The art of miniature painting on ivory:

It requires some observation not to take opaque colour too dry, nor too wet, or it will drag and not lay even, or it will pull up the colour, or cause the white to rise on the surface. If too gummy, it will give great trouble, and if not sufficiently gummed, it will look

Fig.3

dry, which, if repeated on with gummy colour, will peal off. It would be advisable for persons unacquainted with colour, to try every colour with different strengths on a good-sized ivory pallet, then go through all the tints, and lastly the body-colours.v

It is possible, under magnification, to see the way Smart applied paint to different parts of his Self-portrait in order to render his famously polished likenesses. The smooth life-like effect that Smart has created is actually comprised of a densely stippled application of paint (Fig.3). This stippling allows him to build up the paint layers without lifting the underlayers of paint from the ivory, as Parsey warns can happen. The face is the most elaborately worked area, with grey-blue pigment under the flesh tones around the mouth and jaw-line to softly model the artist’s features and suggest light stubble (Fig.3). Smart’s subjects, particularly the men, are noted as having slightly ruddy complexions, the reddish-pink flesh tones standing out and give his faces an even warmth. In other areas, highlights are created by leaving small areas of ivory either tinted with a single translucent wash of colour or left to shine through entirely free of paint. The highlight on the tip of his nose, however, is painted in white (Fig.3), as is the white on the back of his collar, applied in brisk dashes of the brush (Fig4). In other places Smart actually scraped away narrow channels of paint to reveal the white ivory beneath. This is seen most extensively beneath the eyes and to thin out the eyebrows (Fig.5), but there are also touches in the hair, the ear and the corner of the mouth. Furthermore, there is an area of pentimento on the right outline of the face where the darkened outline has been modified with a few scraped lines (Fig.6).

Smart was an almost exact contemporary of Richard Cosway but the two artists had markedly different styles. Cosway work is characterised by delicate fluid lines and light tones,

whereas Smart was more meticulous: his portraits, often worked up from graphite sketches, are densely built up in bodycolour creating something of the pristine effect of enamel. He was recognised for his incredible skill at catching a likeness with absolute truth and accuracy.vi Presumably, when Arthur Parsey wrote on the technique of miniature painting, Smart was one of the ‘eminent painters’ he was thinking of when he described their collective brilliance. He writes: ‘If the works of eminent painters are examined, nothing like the touch of a fine-pointed small pencil can be seen, the colour is solid, and the texture produced by finishing, is round, broad, and firm.’vii This is certainly true when looking at the self-portrait, which measures, only 3.8 x 2.9 cm. The complex and very controlled stippled application of bodycolour gradually shapes the contours of his face and brings warmth to his complexion. Under magnification the meticulous, dense brushwork in the face is revealed and contrasts quite dramatically with his surprisingly free and sparingly painted white stock collar, bow, and frill with expanses of ivory left visible to provide the cream tone (Fig.7). Ozias Humphry said that Smart’s miniatures were painted, ‘without any flattery’.viii This sets him quite apart from Cosway. Though very accurate, Smart’s controlled style, evident in the self-portrait, on one hand felicitous, conceals the means of representation and we are encouraged to question the function of this as an intimate object, how Smart controlled his image, and how he wished himself to be seen.

Fig.5

Fig.4

Fig.6

Fig.7

Fig.10, 1797 Fig.11, 1802

Fig.9, c.1783

John Smart self-portraits

Fig. 8, 1783

Fig.12

POPOPOPORRRRTRTRTRTRAITS AND INTIMACYAITS AND INTIMACYAITS AND INTIMACYAITS AND INTIMACY

SelfSelfSelfSelf----fashioningfashioningfashioningfashioning

Daphne Foskett counted nine self-portraits of Smart in her 1972 monograph of the artist, but only four are illustrated and their whereabouts identified.ix Three of the nine are in public collections, namely the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (Fig.10); the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; and the Cleveland Museum of Art, USA (Fig.11). The other two are the 1783 version (Fig.1) and a graphite sketch from the Jaffé collection (Fig.9). There is a graphite portrait by Smart at the Nationalmuseum, Stockholm (Fig.12). Although listed as a self-portrait, it does not boast a distinct likeness to the artist and it seems more likely the image of another.

The 1783 self-portrait (Fig.1) was included in the Scottish Print Club exhibition of 1928 not as a self-portrait, but as 'William Rankin Allen' and still bore that attribution in 1935 when sold by Sotheby’s. The name has not been traced, nor is it known how it was linked to this portrait. Arthur Jaffé identified the miniature as a self-portrait when he bought it in 1935 and, indeed, on comparison with Smart's other self-portraits there is no reason to doubt this attribution.x It was uncommon for a miniaturist to make this number (and there may have been others, now lost) of self-portraits and the proliferation of images of Smart, if seen as an effort of self-promotion, supports his reputation as particularly ambitious and self-assured. Indeed, the diarist Joseph Farrington wrote: ‘…we also met Smart who had been walking to Hampstead. He shewed us a miniature picture of Master Betty which He had just finished. It was like the Boy. - Smart was, as usual, very much delighted with his own performance.’xi

The most grandiose of Smart’s self-portraits is undoubtedly the 1797 version in the V&A (Fig10). Painted not long after his return from India where he worked from 1785 to 1796, it announces his return to London society. This self-portrait was probably that which Smart exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1797.xii He had not exhibited at the Academy before and was evidently keen to re-establish himself in London. Smart fashions an image of an artist at the height of his powers: well-dressed in a vivid green coat and pristine white stock collar, bow, and frill. He is dressed and presented, as always, as indistinguishable from his clients; an artist of equal social standing to his patrons. Many of his miniatures have a plain background but here he has set his likeness against a dramatic sky. He seems to have adopted this device whilst working in India but here it is more expansive than usual and creates an emotive backdrop. As such, the sky in this self-portrait helps to aggrandise the sitter and perhaps alludes to Smart’s recent travels. If this 1797 self-portrait is an advert, can it, or indeed, any, of Smart’s self-portraits be called ‘intimate objects’? Even if not shown officially in an exhibition, miniaturists could use their self-portraits to display their skills in capturing a likeness to prospective clients,

Fig.13

either by presenting them at certain moments or displaying them on the studio wall so as to be seen by visitors. The advantage of a self-portrait in this context was that the likeness was immediately verifiable. Perhaps Smart felt it necessary to re-visit his image often to record every slight change in his appearance and support his reputation for executing such incredibly honest portraits.xiii This creation of a likeness and one that can be given, held and possessed was the essential tenet of the portrait miniature. This is made evident by the fact that as a genre they enjoyed their heyday in Smart’s time and all but disappeared with the invention of photography.

It is possible that Smart intended his self-portraits to serve a private function as well as a commercial one. He executed portraits of family members, including wives and children. Smart was married three times. His first wife, with whom he had three children, eloped to Rome with the artist William Pars and died in 1778. Before leaving for India he had a relationship with Sarah Midgeley who bore him two children, including John Smart Junior (1776–1809), became a miniature painter, working in a style very close to that of his father. He married Edith Vere after his return from India and, finally, Mary Morton (1783–1851) on 14 February 1805, and they had two children. It is wholly possible that Smart’s self-portraits had some personal significance beyond a display of artistic virtuosity and identity. The self-portrait, listed in the catalogue for Christie’s sale of the property of Mrs Dyer, the great-granddaughter of the artist, was described as “nearly in profile to the right, in grey-green coat, white vest and white cravat, his hair powdered—signed with initials, and dated 1797—in oval gold frame, the reverse with his monogram and a lock of hair.’xiv The inclusion of the lock of hair creates a powerful sense of intimacy. The 1783 (Fig.1) miniature is small enough to be held in the hand, worn about the person and demands close inspection, drawing the viewer into the miniaturist’s world.

Portrait miniatures are at once intensely private and could be worn concealed about the person not on open display, but also be worn like, or as, jewellery. They were set in protective, lavish (with varying degrees of ornamentation) casings and revealed

publicly as a powerful declaration of possession or ownership when desired. The intimate nature of portrait miniatures is specific to them but intimacy in portraiture operates differently when the scale and media altar and the viewer is required to engage with the intimate world of the single figure in new ways. Smart was clearly interested recording his appearance and fashioning an image of himself that would correspond to or even elevate his social standing and reputation. Looking at a very different but intensely

Fig.14

intimate self-portrait (Fig.13) in the Fitzwilliam’s collection, by another British artist, William Orpen, born more than 60 years after Smart’s death, we see an artist engaged in fashioning his image but in a very different way. Unlike Smart’s encased likeness, Orpen drew this on a scrap of paper, the directness and spontaneity are clear with the sense of the artist’s hand moving across the paper ever-present. The very personal nature of this sketch, supported by the note around the drawing, offers a glimpse into a private world. Orpen, whose facility as a portrait painter put him in high demand in Edwardian society and made him one of the highest-earning artists of his day, was considerably conflicted over his own appearance and said his ugliness made him ‘a black blot on the earth.’xv Orpen drew a host of self-portraits, often comical, to give to friends. However, this is a complex image. Looking out over his shoulder and raising his glass, the artist remains inscrutable and the relationship between him and the drawing’s recipient is obscure. In the Fitzwilliam’s self-portrait oil painting (Fig.14), Orpen’s fractured and multiple faces ensure his image remains shifting and evasive. These self-portraits do, however, reveal something of the artist’s personality that a straight-forward, ‘honest’ likeness, like those painted by Smart, would not.

Living on in portraitureLiving on in portraitureLiving on in portraitureLiving on in portraiture

Peter Paillou, the younger (c.1757-after 1831) was a contemporary of Smart’s, working in the thriving portrait market. Almost all his work remains in private ownership and it is difficult to distinguish his work from that of his father, with whom he shares a name and is best known for his paintings of birds but also has portrait miniatures attributed to him. Daphne Foskett wrote that Paillou’s miniatures ‘differ so much in their execution that were it not for the signature, which is often ‘P. Paillou’ followed by a date and written along the edge, one would almost imagine that they were not by the same hand.xvi

The younger Paillou worked for nearly twenty years in London before travelling north and moving his practice to Glasgow at the beginning of the nineteenth century. He painted his Portrait of Susannah Wedgwood (Fig.15) in 1793. In this case, the profile of the sitter is much higher than that of the artist. Susannah was the

eldest daughter of Josiah Wedgwood, the founder of Wedgwood pottery. She married Robert Darwin in 1795 and they had two children: Erasmus and Charles. This miniature portrays Susannah, who was known affectionately as 'Sukey’, aged 28, before her marriage and it was passed down through the Darwin family. It symbolises the close relationship between father and daughter and his giving her away to the son of his friend, Erasmus Darwin. It is thought, given the proximity in date to their marriage and its provenance in the Darwin family that miniature was probably made to be given to Robert. Susannah gave birth to six children and the second youngest among them was Charles, who would go on to become the great naturalist. The miniature is known to have held particularly personal significance for Charles, whose relationship with his mother was cut short. Susannah suffered extreme ill-health and became increasingly withdrawn from her family, the younger children being looked after by their nanny and elder sister, Caroline. Their mother died in 1817 when Charles was only eight years old.

The life and meaning of the miniature continued to change over the years as it passed through different hands and came to embody the memory of the subject. When Robert died his belongings went to his son, Erasmus and when he, in turn, died in 1881 Charles’ sons found it amongst his possessions. Charles had written of how dismayed he was at his inability to remember his mother: ‘It is odd that I can remember barely anything about her’ and several years later, when he received the miniature, he asked his sister Caroline to verify the likeness as he was unable but felt important to know the extent to which it resembled her.xvii On hearing that she did think it a true likeness, he wrote: ‘I am extremely glad that the miniature is like my mother for it shows a most sweet expression. I value it much and so will my children.’xviii This feeds the idea that meaning in portraiture can change and, more particularly, that miniatures can act as stand-ins for an absent person and memorials for departed loved ones. The portrait was to prove crucial in keeping the memory of Susannah alive. Precedence for this thinking can be traced as far back as Aristotle’s Poetics. For Aristotle, true likeness in

portraiture (as a form of mimesis) is essential and pleasure is derived from recognition.xix Alberti developed this further in the fifteenth century, writing: ‘painting contains a divine force which not only makes the absent present, as friendship is said to do, but moreover makes the dead seem almost alive.’xx

There is more to consider than Susannah’s likeness when looking at this miniature. Raymond Lister notes, in the case of Smart, that as the miniatures increased in size and the bracelet framing became outmoded, the feeling that the portrait was a personal possession of exceptional intimacy was preserved by including the sitter’s initials and tresses of hair in the back of the frame.xxi This practice was begun earlier, in the second half of the seventeenth century and, indeed, in seventeenth-century England locks of hair were worn as mourning ornaments. Turning over the miniature (Fig.16), reveals a carefully and beautifully plaited lock of Susannah’s hair. Hair, monumentalised in this way, was perfect for inclusion in miniatures as it doesn’t decay and the intimate tactility of it is a vivid reminder of the person portrayed on the other side.xxii Furthermore, the reverse is often hidden and the cumulative effect of seeing first the portrait and then - being able to turn it over - the lock of hair, must be considered a greater extent of intimate engagement with the object and, ultimately, the subject. This portrait miniature was to Charles Darwin an essential re-presentation of his mother and became not only a symbol of the memory of her, but part of the his relationship with her, embellishing the memory of her life.

Fig.16 Fig.15

Captured intimaciesCaptured intimaciesCaptured intimaciesCaptured intimacies

Portrait miniatures are particularly intimate objects because of their small size and the way they were given, held, worn, and displayed in protective housings. But the notion of intimacy remains central throughout portraiture, and artists have explored it in various, often very personal, ways.

The painting of a portrait implies a certain familiarity between artist and sitter; subject and owner. When there was an intimate personal relationship between artist and subject, that relationship informs our understanding of the portrait. In The Birthday of 1868, William Holman Hunt painted his sister-in-law and future wife, Edith Waugh (1846-1931)xxiii. Hunt had been married to Fanny Waugh but she died within a year of their marriage, in 1866. Fanny fell pregnant immediately upon their marriage and she died in Florence from a fever six weeks after giving birth. This, then, is the sister portrait to Fanny Holman Hunt, dated 1866-7.xxiv Clearly composed as a pendent, Edith’s portrait matches the dimensions of Fanny’s, echoing the first portrait. Indeed, her daughter, Diana Holman Hunt wrote: ‘Edith was painted with the presents she received on her 21st birthday [7 October 1967]. … It was while Edith was sitting for this portrait that [Hunt] realised that she had always been in love with him. She was now a younger, more beautiful edition of Fanny.’xxv However, there are differences between the portraits. Fanny is relatively unadorned, whereas Edith is laden with birthday gifts. Amber beads, a fan, a gold watch on a chain, and a micro mosaic bracelet hang from her hands; and she wears a coral necklace. Fanny’s lilies with their connotations to purity are exchanged for roses, symbolising romance and love.

Fanny’s shoulders are draped with a paisley shawl, but Edith is covered by a peacock feather cape edged with white swansdown. The peacock feather in this painting has been associated with vanity but it seems appropriate to consider the traditional meaning of it as a symbol of immortality and renewal, the portrait immortalising the subject, the memory of Fanny living on in her sister and new love.xxvi Furthermore, there is one object which

appears in both paintings: the shell cameo brooch. It had belonged to Fanny and Hunt gave it to Edith. The brooch had been converted to a memorial jewel, with the inscription ‘FANNY’ engraved on the back augmented with ‘HOLMAN TO EDITH I.M. 20 DEC. 1866’ (the date of Fanny’s death). This thematic adherence to subjects concerned with romance, a tenet of Pre-Raphaelite art, is enhanced with a link made to literary romance in the inscription on the frame which is taken (though a slight misquotation) from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: ‘My True Love is grown to such Excess/I cannot sum up half my Sum of Wealth’.xxvii

Hunt, who rarely accepted portrait commissions, used portraiture as a personal, individual expression and exploration of psychological intimacy. Indeed, Hunt’s female figures have, in general, been noted for their ‘unfashionable refusal to neglect individual character and his pursuit of a beauty of physical immediacy informed by an inner life.’xxviii Hunt’s portrait likeness represented what has been termed an aesthetic of individuality that was at odds with mainstream aestheticism, and, it has been said, looked forward to British modernism and the likes of Walter Sickert, Stanley Spencer and Lucian Freud.xxix

Fig.17

Spencer’s figure paintings were intensely personal and he declared: ‘I have never had professional models, not liking the idea.’xxx Portraiture for Spencer held an entirely different meaning to what it did for an eighteenth century artist like John Smart and Spencer’s Self-portrait with Patricia Preece (Fig.17) of 1937 challenges our ideas of intimacy in portraiture.

Spencer painted a series of nudes of Preece between 1935 and their marriage in 1937. It might be expected that this large double nude would be the most intimate of portraits but in fact the figures appear emotionally disconnected, their bodies overlapping pictorially but not touching, and their gazes meet neither each other’s nor the viewer’s. Both figures are startlingly

immediate, in shallow space and pushed up against the picture plane, the effect heightened by the visual and tonal unity of the painting. Spencer, flattened against the picture plane, occupies an uncertain position, both part of the pictorial space with Preece but distant and detached as his figure cuts across hers. Spencer painted with small brushes, working gradually across the surface and he likened the activity of painting portraits to an ant crawling across skin. In Smart’s miniatures the action of painting is concealed to create a polished, illusory effect, but on this large scale Spencer’s visible brushwork opens up the entire canvas to the viewer. Dashes of oil paint applied by the hand of the artist evoke a sense of touch and serve as painted equivalents to the figures’ hair and flesh. However, the portrait remains psychologically closed-off and

Preece’s inert body and melancholic expression throws into question the nature of the intimacy constructed here. The viewer is put in the position of voyeur, peering over the shoulder of the artist into the intimate space of a bedroom.

Looking at only a few portraits in the collection we see how artists engaged with notions of intimacy in portraiture and how important the scale, materials and function of these objects are to the nature of the intimacy of these objects. What is also apparent is the intimate relationship people have forged with works of art and how the significance of these paintings and drawings has changed over the course of time, informing our current understanding.

Amy Marquis

NOTES i Lister, Raymond, The British Miniature, (London: Pitman, 1951), p.42 ii Williamson, George Charles, Life and works of Ozias Humphry, R.A., (London, 1918), p.118-119 iii Marcia Pointon, ‘”Surrounded with Brilliants”: Miniature Portraits in Eighteenth-Century England’ in The Art Bulletin, vol.83, no.1, Mar., 2001 (Accessed 19 Nov. 2012) p.53 iv Paper started to be used as a support for miniatures to produce quicker, cheaper portraits as the market for them expanded. v Parsey, Arthur, The art of miniature painting on ivory, (London: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1831), p.65 vi ‘…he had an unmistakable gift for catching a likeness, and … the finished portraits undoubtedly represented the sitters with truth and accuracy.’ Foskett, John Smart: The man and his miniatures, (London: Cory, Adams & MacKay Ltd., 1964), p.28 vii Parsey, p.68 viii In particular reference to the Mary Boydell portrait (Humphry MSS, HU 3/49). ix Foskett, 1964, p.76 xx Arthur Jaffé supplied images of the Self-Portrait to the Witt Library and Heinz Archive with hand-written notes stating his attribution and a request for information on William Rankin Allen if any transpired, of which none has yet. xi Farrington, Joseph, Diaries, Sunday 11th 1806.

xii Coombs, Katherine, The Portrait Miniature in England, (London: V&A Publications, 1998), p.92 xiii Richard Cosway apparently gave Smart the mocking nickname of ‘Honest John’. Lister, p.44 xiv Sketches and Studies for Miniature Portraits by John Smart, 26 November 1937, London: Christie’s, Lot64. xv Arnold, Bruce, Orpen: Mirror of an Age, (London: Cape, 1981), p.19 xvi Foskett, Daphne, British Portrait Miniatures: A History, (London: Methuen, 1963), p.146 xvii Darwin’s Mother and the Miniature with Randal Keynes, Fitzwilliam Museum podcast, 24 August 2010: http://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/onlineresources/podcasts/article.html?871919 xviii Ibid. xix Aristotle, Poetics, iv 3. xx Alberti, On painting (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), p.63 xxi Lister, p.43 xxii Pointon, Marcia, Brilliant Effects: A cultural history of gem stones and jewellery (New Haven : Yale University Press, 2009), p.294 xxiii William Holman Hunt, The Birthday, 1868, oil on canvas, 102.9 x 72.7 cm. On loan to The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Private collection. xxiv William Holman Hunt, Fanny Holman Hunt, 1866-67, oil on canvas. Private collection. xxv Quoted in Bronkhurst, Judith, William Holman Hunt: a catalogue raisonne �, (London; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006), p.215 xxvi Ibid., p.217 xxvii The original line is spoken by Juliet to Friar Lawrence and reads: ‘But my true love is grown to such excess/I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. (Romeo and Juliet, 2 .6.33-34) xxviii Jacobi, Carol, Women: Portraits and Passion, in Lochnan & Jacobi , eds., Holman Hunt and the Pre-Raphaelite vision, (Toronto : Art Gallery of Ontario, 2008), p.88 xxix Ibid,. p.82-84 xxx Spencer, Stanley [733.8.22] quoted in Fiona MacCarthy et. al., Stanley Spencer: An English Vision, New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 1997), cat.32

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This project was generously supported by the Understanding British Portraits Special Subject Network.

Special thanks to Jane Munro, Caroline Pegum, Katherine Coombs, Michael Jones, Andrew Norman, and Lynda Clarke.

IMAGE CREDITS

Fig. 1 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783; watercolour on ivory, 3.8 x 2.9 cm. Private collection.

Fig.2 John Smart, An Indian Prince, 1788; watercolour on ivory, 57 x 42 mm. Given by the Friends of the Fitzwilliam Museum, 1948. PD.16-1948. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Fig.3 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783 (detail) Fig.4 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783 (detail) Fig.5 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783 (detail) Fig.6 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783 (detail) Fig.7 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783 (detail) Fig.8 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1783. Fig.9 John Smart, Self-Portrait, c.1785; graphite on paper, 7x 6 cm.

Collection of Michael Jaffé, 1964. Fig.10 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1797; watercolour on ivory; 8.6 x 7 cm (33/8

x 23/4 in.). Victoria and Albert Museum, Purchased with funds from the Captain H. B. Murray Bequest P.11-1940. © V&A Images/Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

Fig.11 John Smart, Self-Portrait, 1802; watercolour on ivory, 7 x 5.7 cm. The Edward B. Greene Collection, the Cleveland Museum of Art (1952.95).

Fig.12 John Smart, Portrait of a man (Self-portrait?); graphite and wash on paper. NMB 1026, Nationalmuseum, Stockholm.

Fig.13 William Newenham Montague Orpen, Self-portrait; pen and brown ink on paper, 230 x 180 mm. Bequeathed by Henry Scipio Reitlinger, 1950, transferred from the Reitlinger Trust, 1991. PD.83-1991. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Fig.14 William Newenham Montague Orpen, Self-portrait, 1924?; oil on panel, 79.1 x 64.8 cm. Given by the artist, 1928. 1486. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Fig.15 Peter Paillou the younger, Susannah Wedgwood, mother of Charles Darwin, 1793; watercolour on ivory, 70 x 60 mm. Bequeathed by Dr W. M. Keynes, 2009, received 2010. PD.26-2010. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Fig.16 Peter Paillou the younger, Susannah Wedgwood, mother of Charles

Darwin, 1793; verso. PD.26-2010. © Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge.

Fig.17 Stanley Spencer, Self-portrait with Patricia Preece, 1937; oil on canvas, 61 x 91.2 cm. Bequeathed by Wilfrid Ariel Evill, 1963. PD.966-1963 © Estate of Stanley Spencer, 2003. All rights reserved. DACS.