An Art Mystery: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?

    If you have arrived here from Daily Kos to continue reading about the Rice Portrait, you're in luck! That story will continue in the next paragraph. If you are here to view information about Charles Dickens or Laura Bridgman, then you will need to scroll down to older posts here. Have fun!

An Art Mystery: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? 

   
     Is that Jane Austen?

    We know what George Washington looked like; we have portraits. We know that Napoleon put his hand in his jacket and sported hair that would look swell on one of today’s club kids. We are familiar with the face of Leonardo da Vinci because of a self-portrait. There are glorious drawings, even photographs, of Charles Dickens. You can view busts of Cleopatra and Julius Caesar and Shakespeare.
     But what did Jane Austen look like?
     The picture above is a detail from what some believe is the only professional portrait of Jane Austen. She is the iconic writer of such books as Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility and Mansfield Park. Those books and others eventually became movies and television dramas, making her a world-wide legend with a legion of devoted fans.
     But is it a portrait of Jane Austen?
     That is our mystery.
    So, let us journey together into a precarious opacity that could be described as a lion’s den filled with land mines, angry badgers, hornets’ nests, still more land mines, you and I, and, of course, lions; the latter feeling justly put-upon because their den is now uncomfortably crowded. You see, there are decades-long grudges regarding the provenance of this painting.
     Proper British grudges.     
     At daily kos, we looked at one aspect of the provenance of that painting. Here we look at all of the others.

  Our Cast of Characters

     The National Portrait Gallery (London):  Is it the trusted guardian of Art for the Commonwealth and the common good, fending off insubstantial works that lack the requisite provenance, or is it more interested in protecting its institutional reputation and shielding its own drawing of Jane Austen?
     Jacob Simon:  Canvas-stamp expert, working for the National Gallery to discover the truth, or company man who will fidget his opinions to save his employer some face?
     Deirdre Le Faye:  Famed Austen scholar and warrior in the fight to preserve and recognize only the truth about Jane Austen, or is she interested in claiming Jane Austen as her personal fiefdom, warning off trespassers?
     The Rices:  It is called the Rice portrait because it belongs to the Rice family, who are descendants of the author. Are they interested in presenting a true likeness of Jane Austen or benefiting from a sale that, if the portrait is acclaimed as true, might reach into the millions of pounds?
     Ellie Bennett:  A truth-seeker on the side of the Rice family, or is she a book-seller, looking to sell books? (Who also happens to have a name that is coincidentally very similar to the hero from Pride and Prejudice.). Deirdre Le Faye and Ellie Bennett have been the mongoose and serpent locked in mortal combat over this issue for years.
     Reverend Doctor Thomas Harding Newman:  Family friend to the Austens and the Rices who safeguarded this portrait for years until his heir turned it over to the Rice family, or trickster and occasional forger, who sought to play his last and greatest trick … from beyond the grave!
     Remember, my friends, first impressions can be wrong.

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     The Rice Provenance

     It is claimed that a great uncle, Francis Austen, who was also a wealthy man, commissioned the portrait while Jane was about 13 years of age and while the family was visiting his estate. Frances Austen’s wife was Jane Austen’s Godmother. Through the years, the work has been variously attributed to Johann Zoffany, George Romney and finally, Ozias Humphry.
     The portrait passed from Francis Austen to his eldest son. Then, the painting became the property of Colonel Thomas Austen, who would have known Jane the author. From there, it was given as a wedding gift to Elizabeth Harding Newman. When she passed, it devolved to her step-son, the Reverend Doctor Thomas Harding Newman. (For a more detailed account of the claimed provenance, including the relationships between the parties, please click on this link.).
     The Reverend intended to will the portrait to a descendant of Jane Austen but never got around to formally executing that change to his will. His nephew gave it to that descendant of Jane Austen, Moorland Rice, and it has passed along the Rice family line since then.
      In the 1930s, it is said that the National Portrait Gallery, London, attempted to purchase the portrait for its collection. In the 1940s, various scholars questioned the authenticity of the painting based on the costume. It was alleged that the dress worn by the sitter was not contemporary with the time during which the portrait must have been painted.
     The National Gallery granted the owners an export license, and the portrait was offered for auction by Christie’s in the United States in 2007. It failed to sell. The minimum acceptable bid was not met.

     In an Alternate Universe

     This is mainly a thought experiment, but I do think it has value to inform about the nature of provenance. Provenance, which is a fancy term for the authentication of a work of Art, is a very elusive concept that seems to be fluid from one painting to the next. There are no set rules.
     So, with that said, let us journey back to the 1930s.
     A buffoon with genocidal intentions has usurped control of Germany; the Great War, or the war to end all wars, is not yet called the First World War; there exists a worldwide depression; and the Rice portrait is sold to the London National Portrait Gallery. Instead of remaining in the Rice family, the portrait becomes the property of the Commonwealth and is one of the shining stars of their portrait museum. Remember, the National Gallery sought to purchase the portrait in the 1930s, but negotiations failed. In our thought experiment, everything is the same except that the National Gallery did purchase it.
     The painting is nearly life-size. It is lush and gorgeous. It depicts one of the greatest writers in world history. And she is adorable! It is the gallery’s jewel.
     That’s because, once the National Gallery decides that the painting is authentic, for all intents and purposes, it is authentic. The person depicted is Jane Austen. The painting is ascribed to a remarkable portraitist, such as Johann Zoffany or George Romney, and although authorship might change, its subject matter is never questioned. The sitter is the writer of Sense and Sensibility and other delights. That’s because large museums have that kind of power. They hire and retain experts whose job it is to study these matters. Moreover, large museums have very little incentive to rock the boat if a little contrary evidence emerges.
     That is why institutions like the National Gallery must be careful in first selecting a piece.
     But for the shaking of hands and a little money passing in the 1930s, we would all view the Rice portrait as an authentic rendering of Jane Austen. We don’t live in that universe, though, so we must proceed with our investigation.

     A Standard for Provenance

    As an attorney, I have conducted civil and criminal jury trials. During each, the standard is well known. For civil cases, the standard of proof is usually “by a preponderance of the evidence.” I have described that to jurors as fifty-one percent of the credible evidence favoring my client.
    In criminal cases, the usual standard is “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Again, a very easily defined standard: If you have a reasonable doubt about the defendant’s guilt, then you must find the defendant not guilty.
    Science has its own standards. To become a theory, a proposition must be falsifiable. That is, it must be susceptible of being re-tested, as well as tested against established evidence and known facts. A scientific theory is never perfected, as there is always the possibility that evidence will be discovered that proves inconsistent with the theory.
    Which brings us to the standard for provenance. Provenance is basically proof of a chain of custody, from the artist’s easel to the first owner to the next and so on. This is usually accomplished with contemporary documentation that may take the form of descriptions in auctions, tax and sales slips, inventories, catalogs, diaries or other then-current writings. It can also be aided by scientific testing.
    In the end, the provenance of a well-known painting comes down to the opinions of a “jury.” That jury consists of the leading scholars in that particular artistic discipline.

The Reverend Doctor Thomas Harding Newman

     Nobody is as essential to the provenance of the Rice portrait as the good Doctor. His step-mother was supposedly gifted the painting. When it devolved to him, the Reverend hung it up in his quarters in Oxford, where he was a don. And it was his tenure there that brought him a little publicity.
     The good Reverend was a practical joker.
     There are memoirs and accounts written by others about their Oxford education. Doctor Harding Newman featured prominently in a number of the stories. He spent “all his superfluous time in playing practical jokes.” He impersonated others, forged signatures, and caught fake fish “ingeniously constructed of cardboard overlaid with tinfoil.”
     Even his obituary noted that he “was brimful of tricks.”
     Most damning of all, though, is that the same obituary, which was reproduced in two very noteworthy periodicals, indicated that the Reverend “would buy an old picture at some one of the Wych Street shops for a song, touch it up in accordance with his intuitions, and exhibit it to his friends as a genuine old master.”
     Doctor Harding Newman was a forger, a somewhat talented painter and a practical joker. There is no written documentation of the painting’s existence before he came into its possession. He had intended to bequeath the painting to a colleague at Oxford, a Morland Rice, but he never finished the formal paperwork. His nephew, knowing of the intended gift, provided the painting to that Rice/Austen descendant.
     What should we make of this? Doctor Harding Newman was a practical joker, not a criminal. His shenanigans were cheeky and fun, not cruel and tragic. He was in it for the laughs, and, as a moderately wealthy man, he did not need the money. The painting was a gift.
     Still, we must keep our one good eye on our friend, the good Reverend.

     Costume

     The reason the National Gallery gave for not purchasing the portrait in the 1940s was because of costume. Fashion experts claimed that a muslin dress like the one worn by the Rice portrait sitter was not worn in England until the 1800s, and not in the late 1700s, when the portrait was assumed to have been painted.

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     The proponents of the Rice portrait, including the Rices and Ellie Bennett have discovered a number of examples of that kind of dress being worn about that time. The little girl in the miniature is one example. That is a very similar dress, complete with the same ribbon around the upper abdomen, the puffy sleeves and the wide and low decolletage.
     Moreover, it has been established by Austen scholars that female relatives traveled to France around the time of the portrait and would likely have returned with the latest in Parisian fashions. It also must be noted that a girl being painted by a professional artist would be dressed in the finest and latest.

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     Remember when your mother forced you to abandon the t-shirt in lieu of a collared shirt on school picture day? When she rounded up the lot of you, dressed you up and took you to Sears for the family portrait? As we will soon learn below, portrait paintings were unbelievably expensive at this time. Just based on the cost, one would expect a sitter to take great care in her or his appearance.
     Here we see another dress that looked similar to the one sported by the Rice portrait sitter. The long and deep decolletage is similar, and there is a tiny “girdle ribbon” beneath the bust. It should be remembered that the great factories that abound today, with electric equipment and machines stamping out dresses by the thousands, following a template, didn’t exist in the late 1700s. Austen lore is replete with stories about how young women would spruce up their own mocked-up dresses and hats.
     For other examples of dresses that are similar, including one worn by Princess Sophia, please click on this link. Some of these paintings have questionable dates on them just because records are spotty. But, it seems that the argument that the costume was time-inappropriate for the Rice portrait has been abandoned.
     Or, it should be.

     Cost

     According to Art Historians, “in the early nineteenth century the best portrait artists charged about thirty guineas for a miniature and about three hundred guineas for an oil painting.” This is an important clue, as Jane Austen came from a family that was not wealthy. This is why the portrait, if it is of Jane Austen, must have been commissioned by a wealthy benefactor.
     A three hundred guinea portrait in 1800 would cost over $25,000.00 today. A thirty guinea miniature in 1800 would require a payment of over $2,500.00 in today’s dollars. To put that into perspective, Austen made £140 from Sense and Sensibility and £110 from Pride and Prejudice. (In 1805, a guinea was worth about 1.05 of a pound.).
     There are miniatures of the brothers, or as others have called them, sarcastically, “the important ones” in the family. That was a wry observation about the patriarchal society in England at the time. Yet, those very same chauvinists purchased a nearly life-size portrait of Jane? She was her father’s darling. He recognized the worth of her novels and worked to get them published. Still, she was hardly recognized as a professional writer, much less an icon, at the time this portrait would have been painted.
     Coincidentally, Ozias Humphry, the painter thought to have rendered the Rice portrait has, in his account books held by the British Library, “My bill on you [Francis Austen], for pictures at Kippington, 30 pounds, 7 shillings.” Unless there had been an earlier massive payment as an advance, this suggests a miniature or two.
     It is known that Ozias Humphry did paint Francis Austen.
     Still, it is known that Jane Austen's Godmother was very wealthy. She was married to Francis Austen. Commissioning a portrait for a favorite Goddaughter sounds like something that would happen. Moreover, if the painting happened while Austen was in her twenties, this might be something a rich Godmother might do to celebrate a blossoming career. Jane Austen wrote Sense and Sensibility at the age of 19; she was 21 when she penned Pride and Prejudice.

     This Unfortunate Scratch and Its Progeny

     At the National Portrait Gallery in London, there is a likeness of Jane Austen supposedly drafted by her sister, Cassandra Austen. You can see it below and to the left. Unsatisfied with that portrait, which a wag once called “this unfortunate scratch,” later descendants had a professional artist give the rendering a makeover. That you see on the right.

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     For you Austen readers, you might have recognized the phrase “this unfortunate scratch.” It was first penned by the icon herself:

     “But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's head dress slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this pattern of gentleness such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone by any creature professedly noisy. The mother's consternation was excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of the Miss Steeles, and every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which affection could suggest as likely to assuage the agonies of the little sufferer. She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Miss Steeles, who was on her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by the other. With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to cease crying. She still screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two brothers for offering to touch her, and all their united soothings were ineffectual till Lady Middleton luckily remembering that in a scene of similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had been successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of screams in the young lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that it would not be rejected.”
(emphasis added) Jane Austen, SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, Chapter XXI (1811).  

     I love the Cassandra drawing, as it shows a very serious person in a very serious mood. But is it authentic? What of its provenance? That mystery may have to wait for another day. Instead, let me show you the portrait of Jane Austen that has the best provenance:

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     This was also done by Cassandra Austen, and it shows almost all of Jane, except her face. Still, what better way to depict a writer than her looking off into the distance?

     Facial Recognition Software

     Using a facial recognition software program called Rekognition from Amazon Web Services, I sought to compare some of the Austen portraits. I am not privy to the software’s algorithm, or to knowledge of its weaknesses. I have used it in the past, though, and it has generally succeeded to match faces that should match (with a notable Presidential exception).

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     As you can see, the Cassandra drawing is not a match to the Rice portrait. It could be that the different pitch and yaw of the heads has thrown off the calculation. Or, it could be that it is simply not a match.

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     Above, we see a match, but you would expect it to be. The professional artist who painted the depiction on the right was working from the drawing on the left.

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     Again, no match.

     The New Austen Tenner!

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    Back in July of this year, the Bank of England introduced a plastic ten pound note featuring the portraits of two ladies. One is easily identifiable as the Queen of England. The other may be Jane Austen. The BoE placed a quotation under the larger portrait that was cribbed from Pride and Prejudice. It reads: “I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading.”

“The trouble is that these words are spoken by one of Austen’s most deceitful characters, a woman who has no interest in books at all: Caroline Bingley. She is sidling up to Mr. Darcy, whom she would like to hook as a husband, and pretending that she shares his interests. He is reading a book.”

    Then, there’s the fact that the so-called portrait of Jane Austen is a romanticized version of the so-called drawing allegedly made by her sister, Cassandra Austen. Still, it is great to see this. It is especially interesting to note that the Austen Tenner replaced the old one picturing Charles Darwin. That’s exceedingly fine company!

     A Longing to Know

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     You can see in the excerpt from a very old newspaper on the right that there was a great deal of interest in Jane Austen in the United States back in 1906, before the advent of movies or television dramas.
     Is this a Fan Club?
     Back in the old “Indian Territory,” folks gathered to discuss the life and times of Jane Austen. Most importantly for our purposes, you can see that those fans of Austen were desperately interested in what she looked like.
     One of the presenters, a Mrs. W. P. Thompson was to offer a “Pen portrait of Jane Austen and characterization.” Was this an actual portrait of the famed Jane Austen? Of course not. But it does tell us two things.
     A great curiosity about Jane Austen’s likeness has existed as long as readers have adored her novels. Also, people may have been creating their own “likenesses” of the author based upon what little description existed of her features and what the artist saw in her mind’s eye.
     How many “fan fiction” portraits were created that may turn up at a later date to be called potentially true portraits of Jane Austen? Not in the United States, of course, but in England.
     As you can see below, the desire to know of the appearance of Jane Austen was on the minds of North Carolinians back in 1902:

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     Whenever there’s a void in a potential market, that void gets filled.

     The 1910 Photograph of the Rice Portrait

     The very same photographer who took a picture of the Rice Portrait in 1883 also took a picture of it in 1910. That photograph has lead to a great deal of controversy. It makes me think that the portrait may, in fact, be haunted. Think of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Picture_of_Dorian_Gray
     Here’s the magic: Unlike the earlier photo of the painting, the 1910 specimen appears to depict writing in the upper right-hand corner of the painting. That writing, tested by forensic specialists, seems to say “Jane Austen” and “Ozias Humphry.”

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     Both the 1883 and 1910 originals of these photographs are maintained by the National Portrait Gallery in London. But why would that information appear in the upper right-hand corner of a painting? It makes no sense. The artist had the entire back of the painting to put informational matter, or, like other artists, he could have signed the painting at the bottom.
     Why didn’t the writing show up in the earlier photograph? Why is it missing from later examples? Art restoration could be an answer. I don’t believe that ghosts are involved (at least not very involved). Here is an enlargement of the “writing”:

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     After some enhancement using a computer program, it becomes somewhat legible in the figure below. This is what they have claimed to be written above:

Ozia RA_ _ _ _ Humphry

Jane Austen _7

Ozia Humphry RA178_

     The Jenny on the Parasol

     Using detailed close-up photography, the Rices believe they have discovered the name “Jenny” written by someone’s hand on the parasol in the portrait. If that is true, it would be evidence of provenance. You see, Jane Austen’s nickname in the family when she was a young lass was Jenny.
     There is a letter sent by Jane Austen’s father to a relative about the birth of the future icon. In it, he notes that “She is to be Jenny.” In the same letter, he refers to his other offspring by their pet names, including Janes sister Cassandra (“Cassy”), as well as her brothers Edward (“Neddy”) and Henry (“Harry”). Do you see the name Jenny on the photographs below?

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     The Linen Stamps

     Back in the day, canvas was an important item for the British. It powered their ships. They taxed it and required that each seller of the product affix its stamp on the canvas. This has been a bone of contention among the various factions.

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     The National Gallery faction, especially the canvas-stamp expert Jacob Simon, points to a canvas seller that went by the trade name of W & J Legg. The Rice faction points to other William Leggs who sold canvas. This is important because W & J Legg didn’t begin selling canvas until at least 1805.
     This, I believe, is the National Gallery’s best argument against the Rice provenance. Their argument about costume has been debunked in my eyes. Any claims that the Reverend Doctor Thomas Harding Newman fabricated the provenance (and the portrait) are also debunked by the fact that when he passed on the portrait, there were still people alive who would’ve known Jane Austen. Those folks didn’t raise a hue and cry about it.
     If the Rice faction can find an example of a stamp like the one on their portrait, as distinguished from the W & J Legg specimens, they would go a long way to establishing, once and for all, the authenticity of their portrait.

What the Great-Nephews and Great-Nieces said

     The owner of the portrait, Mr. Morland Rice, said that the painting was “of a girl of 15.” One great-nephew indicated that the portrait, “if genuine, must be of a girl of 14 or 15.” Another great-nephew called it “a True Bill.” The great-niece asserted that “it is of my great Aunt Jane Austen.”
     There also existed an older relative who grew up with Jane Austen, and he claimed that the portrait was authentic. 

 

     The pictures above are photographs of the Rice Portrait. The picture on the right is a modern photograph. The one on the left was taken in 1883. Do they look different to you? I believe that the 1883 photograph shows what the portrait originally looked like, and a later retouching gave us the "Glamour Package" version of Jane Austen. The earlier photograph would coincide with somebody claiming that it showed a girl of 14 or 15.

     Conclusion

    Reputations are at stake. “If the portrait is confirmed as being Austen, it may be an embarrassment to the National Portrait Gallery, which granted the picture a license for sale abroad on the basis that it could not be the writer.” The Daily Mail, June 9, 2012. A fortune can be gained. I have yet to conclude that the portrait is that of Jane Austen. I think the answer will be found, one day, in Science.
     In the interim, I believe that the Rice portrait does depict Jane Austen, and although retouched, gives us a precious view of her likeness.