_Terburg_ (Dutch: 1617-1681). _See 864._
One of the "gems" of the National Collection--"priceless" because
not only of its great artistic merit, but of its unique historical
interest. It is an exact representation by a contemporary Dutch painter
of one of the turning-points in Dutch history--the ratification,
namely, by the delegates of the Dutch United Provinces, on 15th May
1684, of the Treaty of Münster, with which the eighty years' war
between Spain and the United Provinces was concluded, altogether to
the advantage of the latter. The clerk (in a scarlet cloak) is reading
the document. The plenipotentiaries are standing nearest to the table.
Six of them, holding up the right hand, are the delegates of the
United Provinces; two, with their right hands resting on an open copy
of the Gospels, are the representatives of Spain. One of the Dutch
delegates and one of the Spanish hold copies of the document, which
they follow as it is being read by the clerk. The brass chandelier, it
is interesting to note, still hangs in the hall at Münster. The painter
has introduced his own portrait among the figures on the left, in
three-quarter face, behind the officer who stands with one arm resting
on the chair of the third Dutch delegate (counting from the left).
During his lifetime Terburg did not part with the picture. It passed
at one time into the possession of Prince Talleyrand, and by a curious
coincidence was hanging in the room of his hotel, under the view of the
Allied Sovereigns, at the signing of the treaty of 1814. After several
more changes of hands it was bought in 1868 by the late Marquis of
Hertford for £8800--equivalent, the curious in such things may like
to know, to nearly £24 per square inch of canvas; at his death it
came into the possession of Sir Richard Wallace, who presented it to
the nation in 1871. A curious story is told in this connection. At
the De Morny sale in 1865 the picture had been sold for £1805. At the
San Donato (or Demidoff) sale, three years later, Sir William Boxall,
Director of the National Gallery, bid up to £6000 for it; but his
mandate went no further, and his mortification was great when he found
himself far outbid by the Marquis of Hertford. Three years later,
an unknown gentleman, not too smartly dressed, was announced at the
National Gallery, and began to open a small picture-case. Sir William
was busy, and "could not go into the matter now." "But you had better
just have a glance--I ask no more," said the stranger. Sir William
refused. The stranger insisted. Boxall, struck dumb at the sight of
the picture it had been his dream to add to the National Collection,
raised his eyes to those of the visitor. "My name is Wallace," said
the stranger quietly, "Sir Richard Wallace; and I came to offer this
picture to the National Gallery." "I nearly fainted," said Boxall in
recounting the story; "I had nearly refused 'The Peace of Münster,'
one of the wonders of the world" (M. H. Spielmann: _The Wallace
Collection_, p. 107).