Ibbetson (Julius Cæsar).
JULIUS CÆSAR IBBETSON was born at Scarborough, in Yorkshire, in 1759; was apprenticed to a ship painter at Hull, and at an early age came to London, and practised his art. He painted landscapes, cattle, and some historical pieces. Benjamin West appropriately called him the Berghem of England; yet, like many other men of great ability, his genius was no match for poverty. Mr. Redgrave, in “A Century of Painters of the English School,” says: “He was one of the jolly companions of George Morland: like him he lived from hand to mouth; was employed by an inferior class of picture dealers, and made them his pot companions.” He published a whimsical book entitled “Humbugalogia,” in which he fully exposed the ignorance and tricks of professed picture dealers. Among other rather coarse, but very forcible, illustrations which it contained, was one to the following effect: “These people say they have a great love for the fine arts. Yes; just such a love as a butcher has for a fat ox.” After quitting London, this clever artist resided for some years in the lake districts of Westmoreland, which he left to settle at Masham. In 1817, whilst engaged in painting a favourite hunter of Lady Milbank’s, he took cold, which settled on his lungs, and terminated his existence on the 13th October, 1817.
THE TOPER’S REPLY.
According to “Notes and Queries” (vol. viii. N.S., p. 96), there is a local tradition that whilst Ibbetson was residing at Ambleside, he used often to ramble as far as the picturesque valley of Troutbeck, which is about four miles from Ambleside, to indulge in the double enjoyment of the sweet scenery around, and the “home brewed” within the humble ale-house there; and that, in commendation of the latter, he painted a sign with two faces, each “looking the character” admirably: the one being that of a stout, jolly-faced toper with rubicund nose, and the other that of a thin, white-faced, lantern-jawed teetotaler; and with labels from their mouths thus inscribed:—
“Thou mortal man, who liv’st by bread,
What is it makes thy nose so red?”
And,
“Thou silly oaf, with nose so pale,
It is with drinking Birket’s ale.”
The painting has been supplanted by its title in plain letters, “The Mortal Man,” but the old people say they still remember the sign, and that it is now preserved in Carlisle.
THE RECOGNITION.
Ibbetson’s abilities attracted the notice of M. de Loutherbourg, who introduced him to Mons. Desenfans, of pictorial memory. An invitation to breakfast placed Ibbetson and Loutherbourg in Mons. Desenfans’ parlour, the walls of which were covered with chefs d’œuvre of art; and the judgment of the young painter was tried on the merits of the several masters. When coming to one which seemed to attract Ibbetson’s particular regard, Mons. Desenfans observed: “That, Mr. Ibbetson, is a very beautiful example of David Teniers.” There was a pause, Mons. Desenfans requested Ibbetson’s opinion; whose answer, after another pause, was: “That picture, sir?—that picture I painted!” Here was confusion worse confounded. The collector had been taken in: his judgment had been committed. The murder, however, was out; marks and circumstances proved the fact beyond doubt. The good-natured Loutherbourg endeavoured to “take up his mangled matter at the best:”—“He had frequently been deceived.” Nay, he went further, and told how, in his younger days, he had himself manufactured a few old masters. Whether or not this apology mended the business, we know not; but certain it is that poor Ibbetson was never again asked to breakfast with Mons. Desenfans.