William Paulet Carey (1759–1839) by http://www.wikidata.org/.well-known/genid/eff68a9448bf7659223db6474b096ec8
This is a portrait of William Paulet Carey, painted around 1800 by an unknown artist. It hangs in the National Gallery of Ireland, and for nearly two centuries it held a secret no wall label ever explained.
Carey was an Irish print-seller and writer who became one of the most respected art critics of his day. But in 1800 he was a married father with a quiet, consuming love for a woman he could never be with, the wife of his closest friend. The long curled strand of hair beside his face is not just fashion. It was called a lovelock, a deliberate, coded signal of romantic devotion in the late eighteenth century. He wore it for her.
He sent this very portrait to the woman he loved, unsigned, a private object meant only for her. She kept it all her life. The oval format was itself a message: this was an intimate keepsake, not a public statement. Carey gazes not at us but slightly away, into a space only she occupied.
He outlived her and never wrote publicly about the affair. The story survived only in private papers. The portrait remains, a quiet object that once mattered more to two people than any exhibition review ever would.
What do you think he was feeling the moment he sent it?
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Transcript
He looks past us with a strange, warm calm. William Paulet Carey. A Dublin print-seller who became an art critic. In 1800 he was a married man with children. And he was deeply, quietly in love with his best friend's wife. The dangling curl beside his face was called a 'lovelock'. A coded signal of devotion, worn by a man who dared not speak. He sent her this portrait. She kept it until she died.