ROMANCE OF CHRISTIE'S

Evening Star, Issue 19326, 12 August 1926, Page 2

ROMANCE OF CHRISTIE'S

SALES OUBJNG 160 YEAR? “ Christie's ” —the very name conjures of visions of fabulous-priced pictures, of manuscripts which are part and parcel of English history, of glittering gems which impoverished houses have been obliged to lay on the altar of Ready Money. It is a fascinating story which Mr H. C. Mariilier has to tell in ‘ Christie’s, 1766 to 1925,’ of the world’s chief clearing house for these treasures. Who. was the original Christie ? Mr Mariilier rejects a story that ho was married four times; he prefers the version that the Mesdames Christie numbered bu,t two, and that he left the Navy for business, was of “tall and dignified appearance,” as may be seen from his portrait by Gainsborough, and from Dighton’s not illnatured caricature. That he was popular with his contemporaries, notably the leading artists, with whom he was arought into contact, appears from many independent sources of evidence. Garrick, Reynolds, and Gainsborough Were among his intimate friends. A good story is told of Joseph Gillott, a Sheffield mechanic, who invented the steel pen. Gillott lover pictures and bought them with a wellfilled wallet. He admired Turner, and when that genius retired to Queen Anne street with a female Cerebus on guard, he forced his way into his presence. Turner came not looking surly. Gillott gave his name. “ What, Gillott the pen-maker,” ho said. “ What do you know about pictures?” > “ Oh, I know enough to like yours.” “Ah, but you can’t hay of me,” Jpud XunmCj gruffly.

“ I know that,” replied Giliott,, “ but I want to swop.” “Swop? What with?” “Pictures?” said Gillott. “What pictures?” “ Well, I’ve got some pictures in my pocket,” said Gillott, pulling out a handful of £I,OOO notes and waving them in the face of the grim painter, whose face broke into smile as ho said, “Well, you’re a rum chap; come and have a glass of sherry.” Mention is made of that wonderful sale in 1904, when the first portion of the jewels of the late Marquis Anglesey came to the hammer on behalf of his creditors. “It may seem remarkable that ope man should own more than fifty different scarf-pins . . . but the catalogue contained the description of a vast number of fancy dresses made for private theatricals, countless boxes of chocolates, and innumerable bottles of perfume. The list suggests the state rather of a lady than of a gentleman of fashion, and ill becomes a descendant of that hardy soldier whose leg was carried off at Waterloo, who exclaimed ‘By God, I’ve lost my leg.’ Whereat the Duke of Wellington, looking down, also remarked laconically ‘By God, so you have!’ There is a delightful story of a Liverpool woman who wished to have auctioned “what may be described as a natural souvenir of the Coronation.” This was a “hen egg, and was raised on Coronation morning, August 9, at 10.30. It has on it a raised C of its own shell, and therefore brings its name with it (the Coronation Egg).”