I had expected to see an elderly lady, but not quite so venerable a one
as Mrs. Jameson proved to be; a rather short, round, and massive
personage, of benign and agreeable aspect, with a sort of black skullcap
on her head, beneath which appeared her hair, which seemed once to have
been fair, and was now almost white. I should take her to be about
seventy years old. She began to talk to us with affectionate
familiarity, and was particularly kind in her manifestations towards
myself, who, on my part, was equally gracious towards her. In truth, I
have found great pleasure and profit in her works, and was glad to hear
her say that she liked mine. We talked about art, and she showed us a
picture leaning up against the wall of the room; a quaint old Byzantine
painting, with a gilded background, and two stiff figures (our Saviour
and St. Catherine) standing shyly at a sacred distance from one another,
and going through the marriage ceremony. There was a great deal of
expression in their faces and figures; and the spectator feels, moreover,
that the artist must have been a devout man,--an impression which we
seldom receive from modern pictures, however awfully holy the subject, or
however consecrated the place they hang in.
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