hat bear his name are all his pictures. He was too
much of a gentleman for such drudgery, and the greatest part of such
pictures (the Luxembourg for instance) are the works of his pupils from
his original designs certainly; they were afterwards retouched by him,
and people are silly enough to believe they are all his work. But mark
well the difference in execution between those great gallery pictures and
such a gem as this." Mr. Beckford then showed me a "Ripon" by Polemberg,
a lovely classic landscape, with smooth sky, pearly distance, and
picturesque plains; the Holy Family in the foreground. "Do take notice
of the St. Joseph in this charming picture," he said. "The painters too
often pourtray him as little better than a vagabond Jew or an old beggar.
Polemberg had too much good taste for such caricaturing, and you see he
has made him here look like a decayed gentleman."

Mr. Beckford drew aside another curtain, and we entered the front drawing
room, of larger dimensions, but fitted up in a similar style. The first
thing that caught my eye was the magnificent effect produced by a scarlet
drapery, whose ample folds covered the whole side of the room opposite
the three windows from the ceiling to the floor. Mr. Beckford's
observation on his first view of Mad. d' Aranda's boudoir instantly
recurred to my mind. These are his very words: "I wonder architects and
fitters-up of apartments do not avail themselves more frequently of the
powers of drapery. Nothing produces so grand and at the same time so
comfortable an effect. The moment I have an opportunity I will set about
constructing a tabernacle larger than the one I arranged at Ramalhad, and
indulge myself in every variety of plait and fold that can be possibly
invented." "I never was so convinced," I said, "of the truth of your
observations as at the present moment. What a charming and comfortable
effect does that splendid drapery produce!" "I am very fond of drapery,"
he replied, "but that is nothing to what I had at Fonthill in the great
octagon. There were purple curtains fifty feet long."

Here was a cabinet of oak, made in Bath, in form most classical and
appropriate. On one side stood two massive and richly chased silver gilt
candlesticks that formerly were used in the Moorish Palace of the
Alhambra. "Then you have visited Granada?" I inquired. "More than
once." "What do you think of the Alhambra?" "It is vastly curious
certainly, but many thin