Jacques-Louis David is known to have painted two portraits of Henri-Amede-Mercure de Turenne d'Aynac. In a list of his works jotted down in Brussels in 1819, six years before his death, he includes under the rubric 'Dans mon exil' both 'Le portrait de M. de Turenne, en grand'' and 'Le portrait de M. de Turenne, buste'.' The former is the three-quarter length on panel that has been in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen, since 1923 (Fig.1),2 while the latter, a painting on canvas which remained with the sitter's family, has never previously been published. It was recently acquired from Turenne's collateral descendants by the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute (Fig2).3 Like the Copenhagen picture, it is inscribed with the date 1816, the year David settled in Brussels after the Bourbon regime banished from France those regicide members of the Convention who had pledged allegiance to Napoleon during his short-lived return, the so-called Hundred Days. The rediscovery of this work, unknown until its acquisition by Williamstown, raises a series of questions. Why were two portraits of the sitter painted in the same year, and which was done first? Who was Turenne and how did David go about representing him? Was Turenne, like David, hostile to the Bourbons and in forced exile? What was the nature of the relationship between painter and sitter? How does this new addition to David's oeuvre modify our perception of his portrait practice?

The National Museum and Gallery of Wales holds one ofthe principal collections of paintings and drawings by Honore Daumier in the United Kingdom, comparable with those at the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Burrell Collection in Glasgow. Like the latter, which were formed by Constantine Ionides and Sir William Burrell, the Cardiff Daumier holdings are almost entirely from a single collection, that assembled by the sisters Gwendoline and Margaret Davies.' Although Ionides had begun purchasing Daumier drawings during the artist's lifetime, while Burrell began to acquire his work by 1901 and Sir Hugh Lane in 1904, Daumier still remained relatively little known in Britain.2 In August 1909 Hugh Blaker, the curator of the Holburne of Menstrie Museum in Bath, visited Paris and 'came back obsessed with Daumier who I had not hitherto known well enough'; in May 1914 he was disgusted when the Trustees of the National Gallery in London initially declined the loan of Lane's oil sketch of Daumier's Don Quixote charging a fock of sheep.

The historian of the art of Fontainebleau has been compared by Jacques Thuillier to an archaeologist who has to judge the epochs he studies on the basis of ruins or later replicasn' seeking to bridge the gap between the scanty surviving works and those which are known to have existed. Both may occasionally be lucky enough to discover a masterpiece emerging from oblivion.

A painting by Eustache Le Sueur which resurfaced in London a few years ago has recently been acquired by the National Gallery. In spite of its relatively modest dimensions - it is a tondo less than a metre in diameter - Alexander and has doctor (Fig.22) is one of the painter's most important works, frequently cited and reproduced. In Alain Merot's monograph of 1987, it is recorded as 'whereabouts unknown'.l In fact, the picture had been in London for the best part of two hundred years and remained visible, if not truly accessible, at 4 St James's Square, a building which was, for some twenty years, occupied by the Arts Council of Great Britain. From at least the mid-1830s the painting was in the principal drawing room on the first floor, installed as one of two overdoors (Fig 20), the other being a Continence of Saipio byJacopo Amigoni. It was there that Alastair Laing recognised it and brought it to the National Gallery's attention as the probable lost Le Sueur in 1991. On examination of the picture both in situ and then at the National Gallery (to which it and the Amigoni had been removed during the recent refurbishment of 4 St James's Square), we, together with Laing, were able to confirm that it was indeed the Alexander and has doctor that Merot had sought in vain.

Among the manuscripts in the Bibliotheque Municipale, Besancon, is a collection assembled by Francois-XavierJoseph Droz, a promi- nent man of letters native to that city who donated his collection of autograph manuscripts to the library. It includes letters by Haydn, Voltaire, Ducis and Talma, but is principally centred on figures who had some association with Besanc, on or with whom Droz had personal contact.

Letters written by comtesse Sophie-Marie-Zoe Vilain XIIII to her husband, in which she recounts her sittings with Jacques-Louis David (see the Appendix below), are of interest as the only con- temporary account of the painter's method as a portraitist.' David painted the portrait, which is now in the National Gallery, London (Fig.30), between May and July 1816; it is one ofthe earliest works from his first year of exile in Brussels.*

'Un grand homme appartient a tous les peuples et a tous les siecles': so begins a three-volume life of the 1st Duke of Marlborough published in Paris in 1808.1 Proof that this sentiment was shared in official circles is provided by a marble bust of the Great Duke at Windsor Castle (Figs.31 and 32), which can now be recognised as having been ordered by Napoleon in 1800 from the sculptor Pierre-Charles Bridan (1766-1836) and completed in 1801.2 Were the duke's name not so prominently incised across the front truncation the subject would defy identification: neither the bald head, the frowning countenance, the curved nose nor the narrow mouth can be seen in portraits of Marlborough made by Kneller, Closter- man or Rysbrack.3 Indeed, to English eyes accustomed to those portraits, in which the great commander appears in full-bottomed wig and breastplate, the Windsor bust appears a most improbable likeness. It is in fact no likeness, but a conjured-up image of an immortal.