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Updated: June 21, 2025
The painting of the eighteenth century is brilliant illustration still touched with art. For instance, in Watteau, Canaletto, Crome, Cotman, and Guardi there is some art, some brilliance, and a great deal of charming illustration. In Tiepolo there is hardly anything but brilliance; only when one sees his work beside that of Mr. Sargent does one realise the presence of other qualities.
Ah, here comes the porter, intent, no doubt, on pumping us, whereas " He smiled genially at the approaching custodian, and asked: "Where did you say those houses fronted?" "Cotman Street, sir," answered the porter. "They are nearly all offices." "And the numbers? That open second-floor window, for instance?" "That is number six; but the house opposite Mr. Hartridge's rooms is number eight."
The Coroner paused in his questioning, glanced at his papers, and then nodded to the witness as an intimation that he had nothing further to ask him. And Carstairs was about to step down from the box, when Cotman, the solicitor to whom Wellesley had been whispering, rose quickly from his seat and turned towards the Coroner.
The object of the porter's quest gave me considerable mental occupation. I had not seen Thorndyke drop any thing, and it was not his way to finger carelessly any object of value. I was about to question him on the subject, when, turning sharply round into Cotman Street, he drew up at the doorway of number six, and began attentively to read the names of the occupants.
JOHN SELL COTMAN, born in 1782, was, after Crome, the most considerable of the Norwich School. He, too, was compelled to earn a livelihood by being a drawing-master, for there was not as yet a sufficient market, nor for some time later, for landscape pictures, to support existence, however humble.
"So you went and told Mrs. Lane all about it?" "Yes, sir." "What did Mrs. Lane say?" "She said I must tell Mr. Hawthwaite, sir." "Did she take you to Mr. Hawthwaite?" "Yes, sir." "And you told him all that you have told us now?" "Yes, sir Mrs. Lane said I must." "You didn't want to, eh?" Here the girl burst into tears, and Cotman turned to the Coroner.
A mere list of the greatest names is not sufficient to apportion the praise, though as a preliminary step it may be of value in clearing the issue. Let us take a dozen on either side, and see how they look. England. Lawrence. Constable. Turner. De Wint. Nasmyth. Stevens. Whistler. Cotman. Cox. Watts. Rossetti. Hunt. France. David. Géricault. Ingres. Delacroix. Corot. Millet. Daubigny. Courbet.
Cotman, who had been whispering with his client during the Borough Surveyor's evidence, asked no questions, and presently the interest of the court shifted to a little shrewd-faced, self-possessed woman who tripped into the witness-box and admitted cheerfully that she was Mrs. Marriner, proprietor of Marriner's Laundry, and that she washed for several of the best families in Hathelsborough.
I said nothing to anybody at first." "But you did later on. Now, to whom?" The witness here began to show more signs of tearfulness. "Don't cry!" said Cotman. "Whom did you first mention this to?" "Well, sir, it was to Mrs. Lane. I got so upset about it that I told her." "Who is Mrs. Lane?" "She's the lady that looks after the Girls' Friendly Society, sir." "Are you a member of that?" "Yes, sir."
The Coroner asked nothing further; he was still plainly impatient about the handkerchief evidence, if not wholly sceptical, and he waved Mrs. Marriner away. But Cotman stopped her. "I suppose, Mrs. Marriner, that mistakes are sometimes made when you and your assistants send home the clean clothes?" he suggested. "Things get in the wrong baskets, eh?"
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