Every one remembers the marvellous story of Sir James Thornhill stepping
back to see the effect of his work, while painting Greenwich Hospital;
and being prevented falling from the ceiling to the floor, by a person
intentionally defacing the picture, and causing the painter to rush
forward, and thus save himself. This _may have occurred_; but we rather
suspect the anecdote to be of legendary origin, and to come from no less
distance than the Tyrol; in short, to be a paraphrase of a catholic
miracle, unless the Tyrolese are quizzing the English story, which is
not very probable. At Innspruck, you are gravely told that when Daniel
Asam was painting the inside of the cupola of one of the churches, and
had just finished the hand of St. James, he stepped back on the scaffold
to ascertain the effect: there was no friend at hand gifted with the
happy thought of defacing the work, and thus saving the artist, as in
Sir James Thornhill’s case, and therefore Daniel Asam _fell backward_;
but, to the astonishment of the awe-struck beholders, who were looking
up from beneath, the hand and arm of the saint, which the artist had
just finished, were seen to _extend themselves_ from the fresco, and
grasping the fortunate Asam by the arm, accompany him in his descent of
200 feet, and bear him up _so gently_, that he reached the ground
without the slightest shock. What became of the “awe-struck beholders,”
and why the saint and painter did not fall on their heads, or why they
did not serve as an _easel_ in bringing the pair miraculously to the
ground, we are not told.
The Painted Hall at Greenwich, contains 53,678 square feet of Sir James
Thornhill’s work, and cost 6,685_l._, being at the rate of 8_l._ per
yard for the ceiling, and 1_l._ per yard for the sides. The whole is
admirably described in Steele’s play of _The Lovers_.