LIVES

OF

EMINENT SCULPTORS.

GRINLING GIBBONS.

THE first British name of any eminence in Sculpture is that of Grinling Gibbons; of whose birth and parentage we have from Vertue two different accounts; both particular and both probably erroneous. The one authority, Murray, the painter, relates, that he was born in Holland, of English parents, and came to London at the age of nineteen: the other, Stoakes (a relation of Stone, the architect and sculptor), says, his father was a Dutchman; but that Gibbons himself was born in Spur Alley, in the Strand. "This is circumstantial," says Lord Orford, "and yet the former testimony seems most true, as Gibbons is an English name, and Grinling probably Dutch." Tradition, while it claims him for a Lon doner, is silent concerning his foreign parentage; his maternal descent, like that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, was probably from Holland: but wherever he was born, he was very young when he first distinguished himself in London. We then find him living in Belle Sauvage Court, Ludgate Hill, where Lud's terrific image stood in the days of Bede: here he exhibited a pot of flowers, so exquisitely carved that the individual leaves quivered and shook with

the motion of the passing coaches. Stone, on whose authority this story is told, has not said of what material those sensitive flowers were formed; but most probably they were of wood; in which case there is nothing to be much marvelled at. While residing here, he executed the capitals, the cornices, and eagles of Dorset Garden Theatre: but all these specimens of his early workmanship have disappeared.

From Belle Sauvage Court, Gibbons removed to Deptford, where he shared a house with a musician. Here he was accidentally discovered by the accomplished John Evelyn, who thus relates the interview and its consequences. "1671, January 18. This day I first acquainted his majesty with that incomparable young man, Gibbons, whom I lately met with in an obscure place, by mere accident, as I was walking near a poor solitary thatched house in a field in our parish (Deptford), near Sayes Court. I found him shut in; but, looking in at the window, I perceived him carving the large Cartoon of Tintoret, a copy of which I had myself brought from Venice, where the original painting remains. I asked if I might enter; he opened the door civilly to me, and I saw him about such a work, as, for curiosity of handling, drawing, and studious exactness, I had never before seen in all my travels. I asked him why he worked in such an obscure and lonesome place: he told me, it was that he might apply himself to his profession without interruption, and wondered not a little how I had found him out. I asked him if he was unwilling to be made known to some great man, for that I believed it might turn to his profit: he answered, that he was but as yet a beginner, but would not be sorry to sell off that piece: on demanding his price, he said, a hundred pounds. In good earnest, the very frame was worth the money, there being in nature nothing so tender and delicate as the flowers and festoons about it, and

yet the work was very strong: in the piece were more than a hundred figures of men, &c. I found he was likewise musical; and very civil, sober, and discreet in his discourse. There was only an old woman in his house."

The genius of the man, and the gentleness of his manners, made such an impression on Evelyn, that he acquainted King Charles with the discovery he had made at Deptford, and requested leave to bring Gibbons and his sculpture to Whitehall. The king declared he would go to Deptford and see him, but the artist anticipated his majesty, and came with his work to Whitehall-Evelyn shall tell the conclusion of the story. "The king saw the carving at Sir R. Browne's chamber, who was astonished at the curiosity of it, but was called away and sent it to the queen's chamber. There a French peddling woman, who used to bring baubles out of France for the ladies, began to find fault with several things in it which she understood no more than an ass or a monkey. So, in a kind of indignation, I caused it to be taken back, and sent down to the cottage again. He, not long after, sold it to Sir G. Viner for eighty pounds-it was well worth a hundred without the frame." This repulse did not daunt the friendly Evelyn-he recommended Gibbons to Sir Christopher Wren, a more competent judge of his merit than the French peddling woman, and he was forthwith employed in the embellishments of Windsor.

Lord Orford classes Lely and May with Evelyn as early patrons of Gibbons, and speaks with much complacency of the attention of the monarch himself. "Charles was too indolent," says the courtly author of the Anecdotes, "to search for genius, and too indiscriminate in his bounty to confine it to merit, but was always pleased when it was brought home to him. He gave the artist a piace in the Board of Works, and employed his hand on the ornaments of most taste in his palaces, particularly

in the chapel at Windsor, where the simplicity of the carver's foliage at once sets off and atones for the glare of Verrio's painting."* Gibbons was now in a fair way to fame and fortune. He felt the generous kindness of Evelyn, and made him a present of his own bust in wood, carved, it is said, with singular freedom; this work has not survived those dangers to which the nature of the material exposed it. Those who labour in wood, like those who labour in gold or in silver, commit their hopes of fame to a most deceitful foundation, and need not hope to survive in their works. The carving which first drew Evelyn's attention to Gibbons, remained for some time with Sir G. Viner, and finally took sanctuary at Cannons, the far-famed residence of the Duke of Chandos; the head of the amiable patron found a scarcely less eminent abode-it was long seen in the house of Evelyn, in Dover Street.

At this period, and for many centuries before, the art of architectural enrichment was much encouraged; and as men of genius were employed, it was every where bold, lavish, even magnificent. Flowers, stems, leaves, fruits, were carved in continuous borders and entablatures, and thrown upon the walls and projections with a profusion which embellished but did not overwhelm the architecture, and with a freedom and a variety equalled only by nature. In those days the artist who embellished the interior of a mansion brought a painter's eye to the task: he was not afraid of erring against the rules of sober and severe decoration deduced from the Greek temples. It is otherwise now. All is at present bald, bare, and barren; flowers are etched, not carved-and birds can no longer build and bring forth, as of old, amid the flowers, festoons, and

*This allegorical progeny of Verrio long continued to startle the devout, and afford merriment to the witty; the good taste of his present majesty has lately consigned them to oblivion, but unfortunately the carved accompaniments could not be separated, and shared the doom of the paintings.

deep enrichments of the entablatures. Since the genius of Gibbons was withdrawn, the interior splendour of our churches and palaces has suffered an eclipse. We cannot indeed expect, without the revival of the true Gothic, or the picturesque and classic style of Vanburgh, that architectural enrichment will ever be with us what it has been. The grandeur of the Gothic admitted such embellishments, even to excess-figures of men, angels, birds, and beasts, were mingled freely with fruits, leaves flowers; yet all was subordinate to the architecture and in keeping with the character of the whole edifice. The expense would indeed be excessive in these times of ours: nothing less than a princely outlay could restore the original Gothic with all those jewels of carving and sculpture, in the absence of which our modern imitations look so mean and naked.

Though the king received Gibbons and his works with little courtesy at first, the recommendation of Evelyn and the good opinion of Wren had their weight in time. At Windsor he carved that fine pedestal in marble, on which the equestrian statue of Charles was placed, and complimented his royal patron on his skill in naval architecture, by introducing implements of navigation among the fruits and flowers with which the work is embellished. Under the statue, Sir Samuel Morland, ancestor of Morland the painter, contrived an engine for raising water; on the hoof of the horse is cast Josias Ibach Stada, Bremensis. The skill displayed in forming the horse and rider was more than matched by the splendid carving below, and the work of Stada was considered by many besides Horace Walpole as a sign to draw the eye of a passenger to the pedestal. The pedestal of the Charing Cross statue is from the same hand, and has been much admired for the beauty of its proportions, as well as for the elegance and boldness of its carvings. The