It is hard not to be starstruck when walking the halls of The National Portrait Gallery. Aside from the pleasure I get from looking at pictures of famous people, I cannot help but feel overcome by the thought that the canvas was once in the same room as the subject, at the same point in time. My heart delights in seeing the artist’s hand through the brushstrokes of a familiar portrait. It is as if this intimacy with the physical painting breeds a whole new appreciation of the work itself.
I am not an art critic. I like what I like and I love people. Though I may never have known them, there is a connection and a familiarity born of the books that I read and the portraits that I see.
The NPG has kindly put a bench in front of their only portrait of King Charles II as an adult. The painting shows Charles in later life and (bless him) he did not age well. Still, I love to be in the room with this portrait and its significant others – Charles is flanked on the gallery wall by arguably the most important women in his life; Barbara Villiers, Nell Gwyn, Catherine of Braganza, and Minette, Duchess d’Orléans. If only the wall were bigger!
Turning to my left, I can giggle at the iconic portrait of John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, as he crowns a monkey with the Laureate’s laurels. Turning myself further around in my seat, I can smile and scowl at various members of the Restoration Parliaments as if they were little more than characters in a story.
Turning back to the King, I consider the character before me. Charles would only have been around 50 years old when this portrait was painted, yet he looks so much older. He died at the age of 54, the most likely cause being a kind of stroke. By this time he had lived more than enough for one lifetime: exiled, fugitive, ridiculed, restored, revered. London had been plagued, burned to the ground, and rebuilt under his rule.
By this time, the playboy King was impotent and in constant pain from a sore foot which refused to heal properly, yet he would never cease his walks or cast off his mistresses. By this time, Charles had dissolved his fractious Parliament and ruled absolutely until the end of his life. He passed this time conducting scientific experiments and winding his many clocks, which he also loved to deconstruct to understand their workings.
The story goes that Charles took several days to die and that he apologised for the inconvenience caused saying, “I am sorry, gentlemen, for being such a time a-dying”. Then when the time came, he departed to the sound of a room filled with ticking clocks.
The real beauty of the NPG is that it allows the wanderer to wander backwards just as easily as forwards. So, lest I become overburdened with melancholy in thoughts of death, I am free to go back to the beginning…
I would urge anyone with an interest in people-watching to visit the NPG… but try not to get caught taking pictures! This is frowned upon.
I resolve never to apologise on camera again as this does not photograph well!
C
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