The Quest for Corvo: An Experiment in Biography (Valancourt eClassics) Read Online Free PDF Page B

much patronized in the summer by the artistic. For both personal and business reasons Mr Jackson had called on a local client, the late Gleeson White, then well known as an art critic; and in Gleeson White’s house he encountered a slim, clean-shaven, slightly clerical man who was introduced as the Baron Corvo. Baron Corvo, despite his foreign name, did not affect Italian blood. He proclaimed himself an Englishman and an artist. On closer knowledge he proved to have many gifts: to be an excellent sculler, swimmer and fisherman, a skilful musician, photographer and scribe, a man of taste with a pleasant turn of the tongue. Gleeson White was a good talker, even for those days, when conversation was practised as an amusement; but when he fell silent the Baron was always ready with a topic, and he could hold the company with tales of Italy and England, even better than his host’s. Corvo owed his title, or said that he owed it, to an elderly English lady, the Duchess Sforza-Cesarini, like himself a convert to Catholicism, who had met him in Italy, more or less adopted him as a grandson, and bestowed on him a small estate carrying the baronial title much as certain English properties carry the privilege of being Lord of the Manor. There seemed no reason to doubt his claims. He certainly received remittances from the Duchess in Italy, for Mr Jackson could remember cashing her lira cheques, which the Baron received more or less monthly. Corvo was living in a house let out in apartments by a retired butler; he had made a studio on the first floor, and was usually busily engaged with his art. The local Catholic church had been liberally adorned by his brush in a fresco of figures still to be seen by the curious, and it was said that churches elsewhere also rejoiced in his work. Perhaps the oddest thing about the Baron as he lived and worked at Christchurch was his method of painting. Conscious of a weakness in figure drawing, it was his custom to photograph his models, make lantern slides from the photographs, and then project the image on to the painting area so that he could sketch in an outline. The Byzantine eikon was his ideal, and some of his oil-paintings were enhanced with needlework, and spangled with sequins. Corvo appeared to be a very pious Catholic, who required his brushes to be blessed before he used them. His subjects were almost invariably ecclesiastical, and Mr Jackson delighted and diverted me with a reproduction of one of Rolfe’s more ambitious pictures. Some years afterwards I showed a head of St William of Norwich, painted by Corvo, to Rickets and Shannon, who thought it showed an interesting touch. The fresco at St Michael’s, Christchurch, though damaged by damp, is still, in its way, impressive.
    I was surprised to find that in these early days Rolfe was not in the least regarded as a writer: he gave himself out, and was accepted, as a painter; indeed, it was his promise in that art which had persuaded the Duchess to support him. He did, however, write occasional verses, mostly inspired by his own pictures.
    The Baron continued for some time to enjoy the pleasures of local society, to take part in the picnics of others, and to return this modest form of hospitality. But his growing friendship with Mr Jackson, who found the companionship more and more inspiring, was broken off by an unfortunate transaction which ended Corvo’s Christchurch stay. Gleeson White was the owner of a stationers’ business and lending library, occupying two freehold premises known as Caxton House; and these the Baron proposed to buy. It became Mr Jackson’s duty to act for White; and in his professional capacity he could not help becoming aware that Baron Corvo’s finances were overstrained.
    Rolfe also was represented by a solicitor, whom he summoned in unusual fashion. Hearing that John Withers was a good lawyer, he despatched a telegram to the effect: ‘Please come to Christchurch Hampshire immediately for important