This arresting portrait contains a depth of psychological intensity that belies the diminutive size of the panel on which it is painted. The sitter here is yet to be identified (despite a historic association with the eminent theologian, Theodore Beza) but the man’s averted, far-away gaze, rather deep-set eyes, and slightly hollowed cheeks, grant him an air of inscrutability that immediately engages the viewer in deciphering the enigma of his thoughts and circumstances, leading us to share in the sense of prolonged contemplation. The portrait is an outstanding example of the mature work of Corneille de Lyon, one of the fathers of French portraiture along with Jean and François Clouet. It was painted around 1540–45, at a t.mes when the artist was fully assured in the success of his technique and the formula he had developed for small-scale portraits invariably set against plain green backgrounds, allowing for the meticulous rendering of facial features and characterisation of his subjects. Indeed, in his rondeau of 1544 devoted to Corneille, the poet Eustorge de Beaulieu wrote: ‘To produce a fine likeness from life / no one in France compares to Corneille.’¹

Corneille was born in The Hague to Flemish parents but is presumed to have trained in the city of Antwerp. His biography remains obscure, however, before he is documented in the French city of Lyon in 1533. The French court was resident there and it is possible that, having swiftly risen to prominence, it was in this year that Corneille was made painter to Queen Eleanor (1498–1558), second wife of François I (1494–1547). By 1541, around the t.mes the present portrait was executed, Corneille became painter to the Dauphin, later Henry II (1519–59), who—when he succeeded to the throne in 1547 and made his state entry into Lyon in 1548—appointed Corneille as ‘peintre et valet de chambre du roi’. With his naturalisation papers obtained in December 1547, Corneille retained French nationality for the rest of his life. His eminent position led to commissions from the court, and his marriage to Marguerite Fradin, the daughter of an important Lyon printer, also granted Corneille access to Lyon society and the wider bourgeoisie, resulting in great financial success—attested to by the number of properties he is known to have acquired in Lyon and the surrounding area—as well as a prosperous studio.

In the past this portrait was identified as Theodore Beza (1519–1605), a native of Vézelay in Burgundy, who studied law in Paris and Orléans before experiencing a religious conversion that prompted his move to Geneva in 1548, where he became Calvin’s disciple, biographer, and later successor, and an ardent advocate for the Reformation in Europe. However, the sitter’s dress indicates that the figure portrayed is less probably a man of learning and much more likely a wealthy merchant, wearing quite sumptuous deep black clothing (the most expensive), which of course also enabled Corneille to display his skill in the seemingly impossible task of rendering tone and form through such a dark, limited palette.

Indeed, this painting exemplifies the high level of technicality that won Corneille such acclaim during his lifet.mes , and which is so highly-prized today. His Flemish training and a general indebtedness to the tradition of portrait miniatures undoubtedly informed his way of working, with accurate draftsmanship forming the basis of the portrait, on top of which he would use pigment to build the structure of a sitter’s face with meticulous precision, and—as here—even individual brushstrokes to render the hair. It is clear that above all, Corneille focused on conveying lifelike expression through the fine and naturalistic depiction of a person’s features—though his royal portraits also display the utmost care taken over the execution of the cost.mes . The present likeness contains the subtlety of Corneille’s later portraits, achieved through the use of minute, delicate brushstrokes to create nuanced modelling, as opposed to the rather sharper contrasts found in his earlier work—such as the portrait of Pierre Aymeric dated 1534 in the Musée du Louvre, Paris (fig. 1).² Even when compared to works of a similar date, such as the Portrait of a man, circa 1545, in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (fig. 2),³ however, the present portrait displays an unparalleled refinement of execution.

Although it is by no means unique, the direction of the sitter’s gaze, angled away from the viewer, is somewhat unusual within Corneille’s œuvre—more commonly found in his court portraiture, but increasingly used in his portraits of the haute bourgeoisie from the mid-1540s onwards. See, for example, the Portrait of a young man, probably an officer royal, datable to the late 1540s, in which the sitter shares a faraway look, albeit with a less sober expression.⁴ The oblique illumination and the setting of the green background, with the simulated shadows both of the figure and the surrounding frame to achieve an effect of trompe l’œil, however, are distinctive hallmarks of his work.

Unlike a number of his other aristocratic portraits, which were copied repeatedly, this painting is known in only one other example, which is presumed to be a later replica, today in The Brooklyn Museum, New York.⁵

Note on Provenance
This portrait was in the possession of the same family for the best part of two centuries. Alfred Morrison (1821–1897) was the second son of James Morrison, a merchant who, from very modest beginnings, achieved huge success in the textile industry as a haberdasher and entrepreneur in London. He was described at the t.mes as the ‘Napoleon of Shopkeepers’. In the summer of 1829, James Morrison had rented the Pavilion, the surviving wing of the house and park known as Fonthill Splendens, which William Beckford (1760–1844) had inherited in 1770, and where he built Fonthill Abbey over many years from 1796, before it promptly fell down within two years of the estate’s sale to John Farquhar in 1823. Morrison’s financial position enabled him to buy the estate from Farquhar’s heirs and he set about improving the parkland, repairing the grottoes, and building cottages, but he subsequently bought Basildon Park in Berkshire so he could be closer to London. Morrison gave Fonthill to Alfred, who lived there all his life with his wife Mabel and their family, and extended and expanded the Pavilion (which had been renamed Fonthill House), including three top-lit galleries, to house his growing collects ion (fig. 3).

Alfred attended Edinburgh and Cambridge Universities, and travelled extensively on the Continent and in North America on behalf of his father’s merchant bank. While travelling with him in 1842, his elder brother Charles wrote home: ‘I have been observing Alfred—& do not think he will become a working man of business... I think that nothing but necessity will induce him to become the inmate of a countinghouse... [he] does not value money & does like his ease.’ Fortunately for Alfred, the inheritance he received upon his father’s death in 1857 enabled him to live a life of ease at Fonthill. He amassed an extraordinary collects ion of art treasures, including engravings, Chinese art, autograph letters, sculpture, Persian carpets, coins and medals, works by contemporary artists such as Frederic, Lord Leighton, and Old Masters—particularly portraits of historic and literary figures.

Fonthill House subsequently went through a series of reinventions. When Alfred’s son Hugh inherited in 1897, his mother Mabel continued to live in the old Fonthill House and he built a new a house called Little Ridge on the other side of the lake. In 1921, the old Fonthill House and former Pavilion was demolished, and Little Ridge, much expanded with two wings, was renamed Fonthill House. This building in turn was mostly demolished in 1971 by Hugh’s eldest son John Morrison, 1st Lord Margadale, who replaced it the following year with a smaller, more economical, Neo-Classical style house, which is the Fonthill House that stands today.

¹ Cited in Dubois de Groër 1996, p. 19.

² Inv. no. RF 1976 15; oil on panel, 16.5 x 14 cm.

³ Inv. no. 1982.60.41; oil on panel, diameter: 9.5 cm.

⁴ Oil on panel, 18 x 15.1 cm.; sold London, Christie’s, 29 July 2020, lot 9, for £467,250.

⁵ Oil on panel, 17.8 x 11.2 cm.; Dubois de Groër 1996, p. 174, no. 70A.