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 CHARACTER OF THIS WORK, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 EDINBURGH REVIEW. 
 
 " His professional merits and defects have been so ably and im- 
 partially discussed by his Biographer, in the general view of Ills 
 works, that we have only to recommend it to the attentive perusal of 
 every lover and practitioner of the Art. 
 
 " These discourses, we consider on the whole, as containing the 
 soundest and best body of critical instruction that has ever been pro- 
 duced on tlie subject. 
 
 " We feel ourselves much indebted to Mr. Northcote for the v.'ork 
 before us."
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 
 
 KNT. L.L.D. F.R.S. F.S.A. &c. 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 ORIGINAL ANECDOTES, 
 
 OF 
 MANY DISTINGUISHED PERSONS, HIS CONTESfPORARIES : 
 
 AND A 
 
 BRIEF ANALYSIS OF HIS DISCOURSES. 
 
 TO WHICH ABE ADDED, 
 
 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 BY JAMES NORTHCOTE, ESQ. R.A. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY M. CAREY £? SOJ^', 
 
 No. 126, Chesnut street. 
 
 June J 1817.
 
 Ar«T3 
 
 ND 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 >o®o< 
 
 My attempting to write the Life of so illustrious a 
 man as Sir Joshua Reynolds — a task which Burke 
 declined and Malone has not perforn^ed — a work, 
 also, so formidable in my own view of it — may re- 
 quire some apology for such presumption ; but the 
 truth is, that I was drawn into it by degrees, as we 
 commonly are to all the sins we commit. I had at 
 first written a short Memoir on tlie subject, at the 
 earnest request of a friend, which was received with 
 marks of approbation. I had also collected many 
 little anecdotes, which I was told were worth pre- 
 serving ; and at length was persuaded to make the 
 present attempt, or rather, I may say, pressed into 
 the service. 
 
 Another motive to my undertaking this subject 
 was, that some of the circumstances which I had to 
 relate might help to clear Sir Joshua, in respect to 
 the unwarranted ideas, many persons have entertain- 
 ed, that he was not the author of his own Discourses, 
 and that also in his youth he was particularly illite- 
 rate. That tiie latter is far from the truth may be 
 
 seen in the Letter from him to Lord E , which 
 
 is demonstrative of a delicate, elegant, grateful, and 
 feeling mind ; and is written with admirable simplicity 
 of language. 
 
 B 

 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 Familiar letters by Sir Joshua are, however, very 
 scarce : he was too busy and too wise to spend his 
 time in an occupation wjiich is more congenial to the 
 idle and the vain, who are commonly very volumin- 
 ous ill their production of this article. 
 
 With respect to the anecdotes which I have in- 
 serted in these Memoirs, some few of tliem, I hope, 
 may he gratifying to the Artist; others may amuse 
 the leisure hours of my reader; some of ihem, I must 
 acknowledge are trifling, and may not do either : but 
 I have given all I could recollect, and would not 
 make myself the judge by selection, especially when 
 I reflected, that minute particulars are frequently 
 characteristic, and that trifles even are often amusing, 
 when they relate to distinguished persons : therefore 
 I felt unwilling that any meraorlHl, however slight, 
 should be lost, as would inevitably happen, in a very 
 few years. 
 
 It is my fixed opinion, that if ever there should 
 appear in tlie world a Memoir of an Artist well 
 given, it will be the production of an Artist ; but as 
 those rarely possess an eminent facility in literary 
 composition, they have avoided the task ; and the 
 labour of writing the lives of Painters has been left 
 to depend solely on the skill and ingenuity of those 
 who knew but little concerning the subject they had 
 undertaken, in consequence of which their work is 
 rendered useless and insipid. 
 
 I sensibly feel that some parts of these Memoirs 
 may be judged tedious, some parts weak, and other 
 parts not sufficiently connected with the original sub- 
 ject; but I was not so competent a judge of my own 
 work as to make the proper selection : and I also ap- 
 prehend that, in a variety of readers, some will be 
 pleased with what others will despise, and that one 
 wlio presumes to give a public dinner must provide, as 
 well as he is able, a dish for each particular palate ; so 
 that if I have given too much, it is at my own risk, 
 and from an earnest desire to satisfy every one.
 
 ^ PREFACE. V 
 
 The miscellaneous papers which accompany these 
 Memoirs were tlie result of my leisure moments : 
 some of them have already appeared in print, and 
 have been approved of beyond my expectations ; 
 which has induced me to collect them into this volume^ 
 and to add considerably to their number. Some few 
 of the following pages which have been before the 
 public were given under a feigned character; these 
 retain their original form without any alteration. 
 
 The subject of these Essays may perhaps be con- 
 sidered, in a great degree, as of a confined nature ; 
 although I have attempted to treat it frequently in 
 such a manner as I hoped might afl'ord some small 
 amusement to the general reader. In oixler to explain 
 my meaning with more distinctness, I have given 
 opinions in respect to the arts under a variety of 
 views, and endeavoured to convey the best advice in 
 my power, in such a manner as to appear least dicta- 
 torial, for I do not presume to be a teacher : however, 
 if they shall prove to be worth the consideration of 
 any persons, they will be best suited to those who 
 are connected with the study of the Arts. 
 
 In respect to the volume on the whole, if I should 
 say, by way of excusing its imperfections, and to 
 screen myself from severe censure, that it was com- 
 posed in my idle hours, to relieve my mind when 
 pressed by the difficulties of my profession, and there- 
 forfe ought to be looked upon with a favourable eye, 
 it would be asked, " Why I should with any pre- 
 tence to modesty or justice, suppose that my idlings 
 will, in any degree, occupy the attention, or con- 
 tribute to the amusement, of an enlightened puLlic ?" 
 And if, on the other hand, I declare that it has cost 
 me infinite pains and labour, and that I now humbly 
 and respectfully offer it to the experienced world as 
 the very utmost I could produce, after all my most 
 earnest endeavours, it may then very reasonably be 
 said, that I ought to have performed my task much 
 better, as the eiiect is by no means answerable to such 
 labour and effort.
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 Under these considerations, therefore, I shall say 
 no more on this subject ; but calmly submit the work 
 to the animadversion of the public, and rest perfectly 
 satisfied with their decision, as on the verdict of the 
 purest jury, and one from whose judgment there can 
 be no appeal.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 ►o®o< 
 
 The last century may be said to have formed an 
 era in the progressive refinement of the British em- 
 pire in all matters of taste ; an era from whence 
 future historians will date our advancement in the 
 arts, and our rivalry of the most polished nations. 
 
 In the early part of that century, however, so weak 
 and puerile were the efforts of almost all our native 
 professors, particularly in the Art of Paintins^, as to 
 reflect equal disgrace on the age and nation. Philoso- 
 phers, poets, statesmen, and warriors, of unquestion- 
 able eminence, were our own ; but no Englishman 
 had yet added the praise of the elegant arts to the 
 other glories of his country, and which alone seemed 
 wanting to fill up the measure of British fame. This 
 remarkable deficiency in the efforts of genius in that 
 department, may in a great degree, have arisen from 
 the want of sufficient encouragement — a natural con- 
 sequence proceeding from the customs and manners 
 of the preceding ages. What the fury of Henry the 
 Eighth had spared at the Reformation, was condemn- 
 ed by the Puritans, and the Arts, long disturbed by 
 civil commotions, were, in a manner, expelled from 
 Great Britain, or lay neglected in the sensual gal- 
 lantry of the restored court of Charles the Second : 
 nor were its hopes revived by the party contentions
 
 8 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that imraed lately followed and wholly occupied the 
 attention of all men, rendering them unfit to relish, and 
 without the leisure to protect, the fine arts. 
 
 In illustration of this, I may add the observation of 
 an rxcellenl author, that no set of men can have a due 
 regard for the Fine Arts who are more enslaved by 
 the pleasures arising from the grosser senses than 
 from those springing from, or connected with, reflec- 
 tion. The interests of intemperance and study are so 
 opposite, that they cannot exist together in the same 
 mind, or, at least, in such degree as to produce any 
 advantages to the agent. When we indulge our 
 grosser -appetites beyond what we ought, we are 
 dragged to contrition through the medium of anguish, 
 and forego or violate that dignified calmness of the 
 system which is only compatible with an honourable 
 ambition — tiie sorceries of Circe, or the orgies of Bac- 
 chus, cannot administer or infuse efficient inspiration 
 to intellects debauched by unhallowed fervour ; such 
 as sink under their influence, may, indeed, be nega- 
 tively contented with their ignorance of the value of 
 superior merit, but will never exert their ability for, 
 nor pant with the desire of being enviable, happy, or 
 renowned. 
 
 The period at length arrived in which taste was to 
 have its sway ; and to seize and improve the favour- 
 able opportunity, presented by the circumstances of 
 the times to one possessed of superior talents and 
 ardour of mind, was the fortunate lot of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds : yet, notwithstanding that he carried his 
 art so much beyon<l our expectation, and has done so 
 ranch, we cannot but lament that he was not more 
 frequentlyxalled upon to exercise his great genius on 
 subjects more suitable to so enlarged a mind. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that the county of Devon 
 has produced more painters than any other county in 
 England ; whilst, at the same time, it must be no- 
 ticed, that till very lately there were fewer collections 
 of pictures, of good ones, at least, in that county, than 
 in any other part of England of an equal space.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 9 
 
 Of that county was Thomas Hudson, the best por- 
 trait painter, of his day, in the kingdom, and famous 
 for being the master of Reynolds; also Francis Hay- 
 man, the first historical painter of his time; and Mr. 
 Cosway, R. A., Mr. Humphry, R. A., Mr. Down- 
 ham, Mr. Cross, all eminent in their profession. Of 
 that county also, was Sir Joshua Re} nolds, eminent 
 in the highest degree ; this illustrious painter, and 
 distinguished ornament of the English nation, the 
 subject of the following memoir, being born at Flymp- 
 ton in Devonshire, on the l()th of July, 1/^3. It has 
 been noticed as not unworthy of record, that this 
 event took place about three months before the death 
 of Sir Godfrey Kneller, which happened on the S/th 
 of the succeeding October, as if thus perpetuating the 
 hereditary descent of the art ; and preceding biogra- 
 phers are correct in stating that he was on every side 
 of his genealogy connected with the clerical pro- 
 fession, as both his father and grandfather were in 
 holy orders, besides having a paternal uncle, John, 
 the elder brother of the family, who was a canon of 
 St. Peter's, Exeter, and held a fellowship of the 
 College at Eton; to this latter, Exeter College in Ox- 
 ford is much indebted for tlie bequest of a very valua- 
 ble library, and a considerable part of bis fortune, of 
 which it became possessed by his death in 1/58. 
 There is a mezzotinto print* of him scraped by Mr. 
 Mac Ardell, from a portrait painted by his Nephew, 
 now in Eton College; besides which, it is recorded 
 that his maternal grandfather was in orders, who had 
 to his wife the daughter of the Reverend Thomas 
 Baker, a most eminent mathematician of the seven- 
 teenth century, and one to whom the Royal Society 
 were, on several occasions, particularly indebted. 
 
 This gentleman was the son of Mr. James Eaker 
 of Bton in Somersetshire, who lived in great respect- 
 ability, and was stewart for the extensive estates of 
 the family of Strangeways in Dorsetshire. Thomas 
 was born at Ilton in 1655, and at the age of fifteen^ 
 entered a student of Magdalen, at Oxford, from
 
 10 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 whence he was five years afterwards elected scholar of 
 Wadham College, in which situation, in the year 
 1645, he proved his loyalty by the performance of' 
 some little service for King Charles I. in the garrison 
 of that city. In 164!7 he was admitted A. B. but 
 quitted the university without completing that degree 
 by determination ; and having taken orders, he was 
 appointed Vicar of Bishop's Nymmet, in Dorsetshire, 
 wuere he resided many years in studious retirement. 
 Here he applied himself assiduously to the study of 
 mathematics, in which he made a most extraordinary 
 progress ; but was totally unknown and unvalued in 
 his obscure neighbourhood, until iGS-i, when he pub- 
 lished his famous " Greometrical Key" in quarto, and 
 in Latin and English. The Royal Society now be- 
 came ambitious of possessing the result of the labours 
 of his learned life, and iiaving, in particular, but a 
 short time before his death, sent him some difficult 
 and abstruse mathematical queries, he returned an 
 answer so extremely satisfactory, that they voted him 
 a gold medal, with an inscription dictated by the 
 deepest sense of respect. This venerable mathema- 
 tician died in 1690, and was buried in his own church 
 at Bishop's Nymmet. 
 
 Joshua Reynolds was the son of the reverend 
 Samuel Reynolds and Theophila his wife, whose 
 maiden name was Potter; he was the seventh of 
 eleven children, (five of whom died in their infancy.) 
 and it has been said by Mr. Malone, that his father 
 was prompted to give him his scriptural appellation, 
 in hopes that such a singular, or at least uncommon 
 name, might, at some future period of his life, per- 
 haps be the means of attracting for him the patronage 
 of some person with a similar prefix. The good 
 man's intentions, if the circumstance were a fact, 
 were indeed never literally fulfilled ; but instead of 
 that, had he lived, he might have seen his son become 
 an honour to his country. 
 
 I do not know on what evidence Mr. Malone gives 
 this account concerning the introduction of the name of
 
 . SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. It 
 
 Joshua into the "family, but this I know, from un- 
 doubted authority, (having seen it in Sir Josliua's 
 own hand-writing, and therefore shall insert it, as it 
 serves to controvert this very imi)robal)le story, which 
 otherwise would altogether be unwortliy of notice) 
 that it is certain that Sir Joshua had an uncle, whose 
 christian name was Joshua, and dwelt at Exeter, and 
 who was his Godfather, but not being present at the 
 baptism of his nephew, wtis represented by a Mr. 
 Aldwin ; the other godfather being a Mr. Ivie; and 
 his godmother was his aunt Reynolds of Exeter, 
 represented also by proxy by a Mrs. Darly. Mr. 
 Malone is in general very correct, but not in the cir- 
 cumstance he has related as above. I hope to be ex- 
 cused in being thus minutely particular, as it serves 
 to prove a fact. 
 
 The register of Plympton, however, has, by some 
 negligence or inaccuracy, deprived him of this bap- 
 tismal name ; for in that record it appears that he was 
 baptised on the 30th of July, and he is styled ' Joseph 
 son of Samuel Reynolds, Clerk.'' It is diflScult to 
 account for this error in any other way than that 
 which Mr. Malone has given, by supposing that the 
 name was written originally on a slip of paper in an 
 abbreviated form — '' Jos. son of Samuel Reynolds," 
 and was at a subsequent period entered erroneously 
 by the clergyman or clerk of the parish. 
 
 The maintenance of this family of six children 
 was a tax sufficiently heavy on the slender income 
 of the father who possessed no other resources than 
 those which he derived from the living of Plympton, 
 and the grammar school annexed to it ; tiie whole 
 amounting to a very small sum: for the church was 
 only a Windsor curacy, and he was so ill calculated 
 for the management of a school, that notwithstaodin.^ 
 his possessing a high character for learning, its num- 
 her was, before his death, literally reduced to one 
 solitary scholar. Yet this mortification, which might 
 have overpowered a more irritable temper, the gooi! 
 old man bore without any dejection of spirit*, and lie
 
 13 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rontinued as much as ever beloved and respected for 
 the variety of his knowledge, his philanthropy, his 
 innocence of heart, and simplicity of manners. 
 
 Young Reynolds is said to have been for some time 
 instructed in the classics by his father, w ho was very 
 assiduous in cultivating the minds of Ids children, but 
 as it is known that tlie son did not display any proofs 
 of classical attainments in tlie earlier part of his life, 
 it is most probable that the mass of general knowledge, 
 ])y which he was at a later period so eminently dis- 
 tinguislied, was the result of much stndious application 
 in his riper years. A correct classical scholar, how- 
 ever, he could not be consiilered in any part of his life. 
 MMiat he was wiiat the world terms a genius, and of 
 tlie first order, cannot be disputed. He possessed 
 talents of the highest kind which he brought into full 
 and constant action by a laudable ambition, the 
 ardent desire of acquiring eminence in the profession 
 which he had adopted. 
 
 It has been ignorantly said, that his father intended 
 liim for the church and sent him to one of the univer- 
 sities where he received the degree of Master of Arts. 
 This erroneous notion probably arose from his sub- 
 sequent honorary degree of LL. D. I have, however, 
 heard him say that his father at first intended hinvfor 
 the practice of physic; and that, if such had been the 
 event, he should have felt the same determination to 
 become th.e most eminent physician, as he then felt 
 to be the first painter of his age and country. Indeed 
 it was ever his decided opinion, that the superiority 
 attainable in any pursuit whatever, does not originate 
 in an innate propensity of the mind to that pursuit in 
 [particular, but depends on the general strength of the 
 intellect, and on the intense and constant application 
 of that strength to a specific purpose. He regarded 
 ambition as the cause of eminence, but accident as 
 pointing out the means, jt is true that, at an early 
 period of his life, he made some trifling attempts in 
 drawing from common prints, but this cannot be con- 
 sidered as any proof that his faculties were more par-
 
 SIR josrruA Reynolds. 43 
 
 licularly fitted for the study of the arts than for any 
 other, although it has been brought forward as j^mcIi. 
 The same thing has been done by ten thousand boy^^ 
 before him, and will be done by thousands yet to como, 
 without any of them ever becoming great artists. 
 Such displays of childish ingenuity are the most com- 
 mon refuge of idleness, in order to escape from the 
 labour of a loathsome task ; tliey have the double 
 recommendation that they are not enjoined by com- 
 mand, and that they are more easily performed with 
 credit to the young candidate for applause as they aie 
 not likely to be scrutinized by any competent judge 
 of their merits. 
 
 There is now one of these ve'ry early essays, in the 
 possession of the family, a perspective view of a book 
 case, under which his father has written, " Done by 
 Joshua out of pure idleness." It is on the back of a 
 Latin exercise. No wonder it should appear like 
 idleness to his father; doing that which you are not 
 required to do, and neglecting to do that which is 
 considered as your duty, will of course look very 
 like idleness, and partake of it in a certain degree. 
 Notwithstanding those little checks from the father, 
 he no doubt perceived that he had raised himself in 
 the opinion of his parent, which gave him encourage- 
 ment to go on ; and it is allowed by his biographer, 
 that his father, who was himself fond of drawings, 
 and had a small collection of anatomical and other 
 prints, was pleased with his son's efforts. We are 
 also informed from the same authority, that his elder 
 sisters had likewise a turn for the art before him, and 
 that his first essays Avere made in copying several 
 little sketches done by them ; he afterwards copied 
 various prints he met with among his father's books, 
 such as those in Dryden's edition of Plutarch's Lives^ 
 and became particularly fond of the amusement. But 
 Jacob Cats' book of Emblems was his great resource, 
 a book which his great grandmother, by the father's 
 side, a Dutchwoman, had brought with her when she 
 quitted Holland.
 
 i4! MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Young Reynolds had accidentally read the Jesuit's 
 Perspective when he We^s not more tl)au eight years 
 old, a proof of his capacity and active curiosity. Ifc 
 attempted to apply the rules of that treatise in a draw- 
 ins: which lie made of his father's scliool. a buildina: 
 well suited to liis purpose, as it stood on pillars. On 
 showing it to his father, who was merely a man of 
 letters, it seemed to strike him with astonishment, and 
 he exclaimed, '^ Now tliis exemplifies whut the 
 author of the ' Perspective' asserts in his preface, — 
 that by observing the rules laid down in this book, a 
 man may do Monders ; — for this is wonderful."* 
 
 The surprize he excited, and the praise he obtain- 
 ed, naturally inflamed "liis ambition to surmount great- 
 er difficulties in a field of knowledge in which, from 
 the ignorance of those about him in the graphic art, he 
 seemed to stand alone. From these attempts he pro- 
 ceeded to draw likenesses of the friends and relatives 
 of his ftimily with tolerable success. Richardson's 
 Theory of Painting was now put into his hands, 
 ■where he saw the enthusiastic raptures in which a 
 great painter is described ; and it is no wonder that 
 he thought Raffaelle (as he himself has said) the 
 most extraordinary man the world had ever produced. 
 His mind thus stimulated by a high example, and 
 constantly ruminating upon it, the thought of remain- 
 ing in hopeless obscurity became insupportable to 
 him. It was this feeling which more and more ex- 
 cited his ciforts, and in the end produced those works 
 ■which have established his reputation on a lasting 
 basis.f It should be remembered, that at the time he 
 
 * Of this school, an engraving accompanies this work, done 
 from an original picture by Prout, a native of Devonshire. The 
 school itself is one of the best in the county ; it was erected in 
 1664, by Sir John Maynard, one of the trustees of Elizeus 
 Hall, Esq., of Cornwood, near Plymouth, who gave 15001 per 
 annum to such uses. 
 
 t Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Cowley, says, " That in the win" 
 dows of his mother's apartment, (Cowley's) lay Spencer's Fairy 
 Queen, in which he very early took delight to read, till, by feel-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 45 
 
 read Richardson's Treatise, lie could know nothing 
 of Raffaelle but from the praise bestowed upon him ; 
 mere verbal criticism could evidently give him little 
 insight iuto the particular beauties or genius of Raf- 
 faelle as a painter : but the enthusiastic admiration of 
 the writer kindled a spark of the same generous flame 
 in his own breast, and urged him to pursue the same- 
 path of glory, because it was the first that opened 
 itself to his view. 
 
 I have ventured to deliver these opinions the more 
 freely, because I know them to have been his own, and 
 that, if they are not received as the truth, no one has 
 ever yet been able to prove that they are false. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds's notions on this subject have, not- 
 withstanding, been sometimes mistaken, and his 
 reasonings have been therefore charged with inconsis- 
 tency. He never meant to deny the existence of 
 genius, as this term denotes a greater degree of natural 
 capacity in some minds than others; but he always 
 contended strenuously against the vulgar and absurd 
 interpretation of the word, w^hich supposes, that the 
 same person may be a man of genius in one respect, 
 but utterly unfit for, and almost an ideot in, every 
 thing else, and that this singular and unaccountable 
 faculty is a gift born with us, which does not need the 
 assistance of pains or culture, time or accident, to im- 
 prove and perfect it. 
 
 As he had shown so early an inclination towards 
 the arts, a neighbour and friend of the family (a Mr. 
 Cranch) advised the father to send his son to London, 
 to be placed under the tuition of Mr. Hudson, a well 
 
 ing the charms of verse, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably 
 a poet. Such are the accidents which, sometimes remembered, 
 and perhaps sometimes forgotten, produce that particular de- 
 signation of mind, and propensity for some certain science or 
 employment, which is commonly called genius. The true ge- 
 nius is a mind of large general powers, accidentally deter- 
 mined to some particular direction. Sir Joshua Renolds had the 
 tjrst fondness for his art excited by tlte perusal of Richardson's 
 Treatise."
 
 IG MEMOIRS OF 
 
 known painter of portraits, who was also a native of 
 Devonshire. Tliis advice was followed, and Hud- 
 son's consent beinn; obtained, young Reynolds was 
 sent to receive instruction from liis preceptor : with 
 this view he first visited the ca])ital on the> llth of 
 October, 17^-1) when he was not quite eighteen years 
 of age ; and on the 18th of tiiat month, the day of Hi. 
 Luke the patron of painters, was placed with his 
 instructor. 
 
 In order to give the reader some idea of the state of 
 the arts at that time, it must be observed, that Hud- 
 son was then the greatest painter in England ; and 
 the qualification that enabled him to hold this decided 
 pre-eminence, was the ability of producing a likeness 
 with tiiat kind of address which, by the vulgar, is 
 considered as flattering to the person. But after 
 having painted the head, Hudson's genius failed him, 
 and he was obliged to apply to one Vanhaaken to 
 put it on the shoulders and to finish the drapery, of 
 both which he w as himself totally incapable. Un- 
 luckily Vanhaaken died, and for a time Hudson was 
 driven almost to despair, and feared he must have 
 quitted his lucrative employment : he was, however, 
 fortunate enough to meet with another drapery- 
 painter, named Roth, who, though not so expert as 
 tlie former, was yet sufficiently qualified to carry on 
 the manufactory. 
 
 Such were the barren sources of instruction at the 
 time when Reynolds first came to London to be in- 
 spired by the genius of Hudson ! It should be re- 
 marked, however of Hudson, that though not a good 
 painter himself, yet out of his school were produced 
 several very excellent ones, viz., Reynolds, Morti- 
 mer, and Wright of Derby, who at that time formed 
 a matchless triumvirate. 
 
 Yet it appears that Hudson's instructions were 
 evidently not of the first rate, nor his advice to his 
 young pupil very judicious, when we find that, prob- 
 ably from pure ignorance, instead of directing him to 
 study from the antique models, he recommended to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 41J' 
 
 him the careful copying of Giiercino's drawings, thus 
 trifling his time away ; this instance serves to sh(t\v 
 the deplorable state of the arts at that time in this 
 country: however, the youthful and tractable pupil 
 executed his task with such skill, that many of those 
 early productions are now preserved in the cabinets 
 of the curious in this kingdom ; most of which are 
 actually considered as originals by that master. 
 
 He could not escape, indeed, without the ordinary 
 fate of excellence, that of exciting jealousy even in 
 the breast of his master; who, as it is related, having 
 seen an head, painted whilst he was yet a pupil, from 
 an elderly female servant in the family, in which he 
 discovered a taste superior to that of the painters of 
 the day, foretold the future success of his pupil, but 
 not witiiout feeling, and afterwards displaying, in his 
 behaviour to his young rival, some strong symptoms 
 of that ungenerous passion. 
 
 AVhen young Reynolds first came to London, he 
 was sent by his master to make a purchase for him at 
 a sale of pictures, and it being a collection of some 
 consequence, the auction-room was uncommonly 
 crowded. Reynolds was at the upper end of the 
 room, near the auctioneer, when he perceived a con- 
 siderable bustle at the farther part of the room, near 
 the door, which he could not account for, and at first 
 thought somebody had fainted, as the crowd and heat 
 were so great. However he soon heard the name of 
 " Mr. Pope, Mr. Pope,'' whispered from every 
 mouth, for it was Mr. Pope himself who then entered 
 the room. Immediately every person drew back to 
 make a free passage for the distinguished poet, and 
 all those on each side held out tlieir hands for him to 
 touch as he passed ; Reynolds, although not in tiie 
 front row, put out his hand also, under the arm of the 
 person who stood before him, and Pope took hold of 
 his hand, as he likewise did to all as he passed. 
 This was the only time that Reynolds ever saw that 
 great moralist.— Pity that Pope had not known the 
 future importance of the hand he then received in his 
 own !
 
 18 MEiMOlRS OF 
 
 The above anecdote I heard from Sir Joshua 
 himself. 
 
 Reynolds continued only two years with his mas- 
 ter, in which time he made so rapid a progress, that 
 the picture of his paintiiiii;, already noticed, having 
 been accidentally seen in Hudson^s gallery, it obtain- 
 ed so universal a preference, that the preceptor im- 
 mediately grew doubly jealous of his pupil's excel- 
 lence, and on that account tlijey soon afterwards parted. 
 Reynolds returned to Devonshire, where he is said, 
 by his biographer, to have dissipated the three follow- 
 ing years, making little effort and as little improve- 
 ment, to the great disquiet of his conscience after- 
 wards. Yet it is well known, that during the period 
 here spoken of, he produced a great many portraits, 
 particularly one of a boy reading by a reflected light,* 
 and several others which are undoubtedly very fine, 
 as he himself acknowledged on seeing them at the 
 distance of thirty years ; when he lamented that in so 
 great a length of time he had made so little progress 
 in his art. If it is true, therefore, tliat he really 
 lamented his loss of time in that interval, it arose most 
 probably from a regret that he iiad not sooner estab- 
 lished himself in London, which he always consider- 
 ed as the proper field for the display of talents : and 
 it was, besides, his early and fixed opinion, which 
 might add to his uneasiness on this subject, that if he 
 did not prove himself the best painter of his time, 
 when arrived at the age of thirty, he never should. 
 At the period thus fixed upon by himself, there can be 
 little doubt that he had, at least, surpassed all his 
 competitors. At that interval of supposed negligence, 
 I apprehend he was still making his observations on 
 what he saw, and forming his taste; and although 
 tliere were but few works of art, as I have before 
 
 * This painting, fifty year's afterwards, was sold by auction 
 for thirty-iive guineas. Some portraits of the noble family of 
 Abercorn are also very correctly stated to have brought hini 
 into considerable notice at the above period.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I9 
 
 noticed, within his reach in that county, still there 
 were the works of one artist, who, notwithstanding 
 he was never known beyond tlie boundary of the 
 county in which he lived and died|n was yet a man 
 of first rate abilities ; and I have heard Sir Joshua 
 himself speak of this painter's portraits, which are 
 to be found only in Devonshire, with the highest 
 respect: he not only much admired his talents as an 
 artist, but in all his early practice evidently adopted 
 his manner in regard to painting the head, and re- 
 tained it in some degree ever after. 
 
 This painter was William Gandy of Exeter, whom 
 I cannot but consider as an early master to Reynolds. 
 The paintings of Gandy were, in all probability, the 
 first good portraits that had come to his knowledge 
 previous to his going to London ; and he told me 
 himself, that he had seen portraits by Gandy that were 
 equal to those of Rembrandt, one, in particular, of an 
 alderman of Exeter, which is placed in a public 
 building in that city. I have also heard him repeat 
 some observations of Gaudy's, which had been men- 
 tioned to him, and that he approved of ; one in par- 
 ticular was, that a picture ought to have a richness in 
 its texture, as if the colours had been composed of 
 cream or cheese, and the reverse to a hard and husky 
 or dry manner.* 
 
 Mr. Reynolds and his two youngest unmarried 
 sisters had now taken a house at the town of Ply- 
 mouth Dock, in which he occupied the first floor, and 
 painted various portraits, some of which evince great 
 capacity, although necessarily embarrassed by the 
 want of practice and executive power. That of him- 
 self from which the print was taken, accompanying 
 this work, was executed at this period. 
 
 He now began to be employed, much to his satis- 
 faction, as by a letter which, at the time, he sent to 
 his father, who resided at Plympton, he acquaints him 
 
 * At the end of this Memoir will be found some biographical 
 notices of W illiam Gandy. 
 
 D
 
 20 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 witli some degree of exultation, tliat he liad painted 
 liie portrait of the j2;reatest man in tiie place — and 
 this was tlie coinmissior.er of Plymouth Dock yard. 
 
 Svion after tliis lie lost his fjither, who died on 
 Christmas-day, J7^'>« This gentleman, the Reverend 
 Samuel llcynohls, as has l)een before observed, was 
 eminent for his learning and moral character, to 
 Vrhicli he united such innocence of heart and simpli- 
 city of manners, that he has often been mentioned as 
 iinother parson Adams. He m as also Avhat is called 
 an absent man. The following instance was related 
 by an intimate friend of liis, as occurring on a visit 
 whicli ilie old gentleman once made him at his house, 
 about three miles from JPlympton, the place of liis 
 own residence. 
 
 When jVIr. Reynolds set out from his home on 
 horse-back, he rode in a pair of gambados, that is, a 
 large pair of boots of peculiar make, very heavy, and 
 oj^en at the outside, so as easily to admit the legs of 
 the rider, and which were thus attached to the saddle. 
 ^V'hen the old gentleman arrived at his friend's house, 
 it was observed to him that he had only one gam- 
 bado : ^' Rless me!'' said he, '* it is very true, but I 
 am sure that I had them both w hen I set out from 
 home;"' and so it proved to be, as the lost gambado 
 was afterwards found on the road, having dropt from 
 the saddle and liis leg without his perceiving the loss 
 of it. It has been also said, that he was somewhat 
 remarkable for his taciturnity. His wife's name, as I 
 liave already mentioned, was Theophila, and thence, 
 in order to avoid superfluous words and questions, 
 whenever he would choose to drink tea or coflee, he 
 told her, " When I say 'ZVie, you must make tea ; 
 but when I say OJf^, you must make coffee. This, 
 however, if it did take place, must have been merely 
 as a jest upon his own harmless foible. 
 
 It may seem unlikely that the early success of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds should, in any measure, have been 
 connected with the politics of the times; yet nothing 
 is more true, for notwithstanding his own wishes to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^f 
 
 visit Italy, the mother and nurse of tlic arts, still that 
 event might not so soon have taken place, liad it not 
 been for some occurrences, which, being so consider- 
 ably instrumental to the gratification of his desire, 
 even thence possess sufficient importance to be re- 
 corded here, as well as from their relating to the 
 earliest and most firm friend Sir Joshua ever had. 
 
 During his residence in Plymouth he first became 
 known to the family of Mount Edgecumbe; who 
 warmly patronized and not only employed him in his 
 profession, but also sti'ongly recommended him to the 
 Honourable Augustus Keppel, then a captain in the 
 navy, and afterwards Viscount Keppel. 
 
 This officer not having been paid off at the peace 
 of Aix la Chapelle, which took place in 1749, was 
 now about to be employed on a service in which all 
 the characteristic qualities of his mind were, for the. 
 first time, eminently called forth. He had indeed long 
 distinguished himself, as well by his spirited activity 
 as by his agreeable and accommodating manners, and 
 at tlie same time, although still a very young man, 
 displaying the greatest firmness when either his own 
 or his country's honour was at hazard. 
 
 At this period the long warfare in which almost all 
 Europe had been engaged, had given opportunities to 
 the commanders of the various 15arbary Corsairs to 
 renew their depredations on the neighbouring states, 
 and that too without paying attention to the protection 
 of any flag whatsoever. 
 
 Some of these depredations had even been com- 
 mitted on the English flag, which were in some measure 
 submitted to; for though these states were even then 
 well known to be neither powerful nor rich, rendering 
 it thereby easy to compel a cessation of hostilities, or to 
 purchase an alliance, yet it had been our policy to 
 consider it as not very safe or prudent, either to show 
 to an indigent race of barbarous pirates that they had 
 it in their power to exact tribute from a warlike nation 
 like Great Britain, or to engage in war with a people 
 who might, in some measure, be eveu protected by
 
 2,^ MExMOlRS OF 
 
 their very weakness, — a people upon whom no repri, 
 zals could be made, and whose armaments, such as 
 they were, could be renewed, as often as they were 
 annihilated, with much less inconvenience than we 
 must have suffered in destroying them. 
 
 Under these circumstances they continued, during 
 the early part of 1749, to infest the seas and coasts of 
 the Mediterranean ; when the Pope ordered out all 
 his gallieS under Monsieur de Bussy, to put a stop to 
 their insults, if possible. The Genoese too, once so 
 powerful as a maritime nation, were now actually un- 
 able to oppose those barbarians at sea, and were re- 
 duced to the prudential measure of merely placing 
 guards along their coast, in order to prevent their 
 landing, as they had done in several other places, 
 committing the greatest devastation. They were at 
 length, however, able to furnish three gallies, which 
 they fitted out and sent to join a force collected at the 
 particular instance of his Holiness, consisting of four 
 gallies armed by himself, and two ships of war con^ 
 tributed by the Grand Master of Malta, with two 
 xebecs and four large settees from some of the other 
 powers. 
 
 Instead, however, of exerting themselves in defence 
 of Christendom, this armament permitted eleven Alge- 
 rine ships to alarm the whole coast of Naples, where 
 they had proceeded in hopes of seizing the king whilst 
 lie was employed in pheasant-shooting in the island of 
 Procida; a design, however, in which they were frus- 
 trated, though their insolence was now roused to such 
 a pitch, through impunity, that they became totally 
 regardless of all treaties, and pushed some of their 
 cruizers into the Atlantic in order to capture British 
 vessels. 
 
 On the 7th of May, 17^9, the Prince Frederic 
 packet-boat arrived at Falmouth, having sailed from 
 Lisbon for that port upwards of two months before, 
 but had been captured by four Algerine Corsairs who 
 had carried her into port, where they detained her 
 twenty-thi'ee days, on pretence that the captain named
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. gS 
 
 in the commission was not on board, and that the 
 money and jewels of which they plundered her, were 
 the property of Jews. They treated the crew, how- 
 ever, civilly, and did not rob them; and at length 
 permitted the vessel to return home. At this period 
 Mr. Keppel was fitting out at Plymouth Dock, in 
 order to proceed to the Mediterranean station as com- 
 modore; and Mr. Reynolds gladly accepted of an 
 earnest invitation to accompany him during part of the 
 voyage. 
 
 Orders were instantly given by the admiralty for 
 fitting out a squadron consisting of the Centurion, As- 
 surance, Unicorn, and Sea-horse; in the former of 
 which the commodore was to hoist his broad pendant. 
 It was intended also that this squadron should not 
 only carry out presents for the Dey of Algiers, but 
 that the Commodore should also be empowered to 
 demand restitution of the money plundered out of the 
 Prince Frederic. 
 
 As the equipment of the squadron, however, and 
 the preparation of the presents were likely to occupy 
 some time, the Commodore had orders to proceed im- 
 mediately to sea in his own ship, the Centurion, and 
 accordingly he sailed, accompanied by Mr. Reynolds, 
 on the 11th of May, 1749. 
 
 After a passage, rather tedious in point of time, 
 they arrived at Lisbon on the S4th of that month, 
 where our young painter saw several grand religious 
 processions and other ceremonies, novel to him, and 
 which he notices in his memorandums. After a short 
 stay at Lisbon, they proceeded towards Gibraltar, 
 where they arrived on the 9th of June, and after a few 
 weeks got under weigh for Algiers, in order to execute 
 the Commodore's commission. There they arrived on 
 the 20th of July, and Mr. Reynolds accompanied the 
 Commodore in his visit of state, when he had an 
 opportunity of being introduced to the Dey in the 
 usual form ; but the most friendly assurances being 
 held out. Commodore Keppel thought it unnecessary 
 to make any longer stay, and immediately sailed for
 
 51 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Port Mahon in the island of Minorca, at wliifli place 
 Mr. Reynolds went on shore to live on the S3rd of 
 August. 
 
 Here the friendship of the Commodore, as well as 
 )iis own merit, soon introduced him to notice, and he 
 was employed busily in painting the portraits of al- 
 most all tiie oificeis in the garrison, and on the station, 
 much to the improvement of his skill and fortune. 
 
 To General Blakeney, the Governor, he was much 
 indebted for polite attention ; as that gentleman not 
 only insisted on his not being at any expence during 
 his stay on the island for (piarters, but also pressed 
 him to a constant seat at his own table. 
 
 His stay at Port Mahon was however prolonged 
 much beyond his original intention, by an unpleasant 
 and indeed very dangerous accident; his liorse having 
 fallen down a precipice, by which his face was so 
 much cut as to confine him to his room. At this time 
 it was, I believe, that his lip was so much bruised as 
 to oblige him to have part of it cut off; from whence 
 arose that apparent contraction which Mr. Edwards 
 supposes to have been owing to his subsequent illness 
 at Rome which brought on his partial deafness. 
 
 His recovery now enabled him to pursue his origin- 
 al plan, and he for a time took leave of his friend, who 
 had been literally so during the whole course of the 
 voyage, treating him in all respects as a brother, af- 
 fording him the liberal use of his cabin and library, 
 and introducing him, when in port, to the first circles 
 in which he associated. 
 
 Before we follow Mr. Reynolds to Italy, it will not 
 be irrelevant to notice a subsequent anecdote of his 
 friend the Commodore, who in the course of the ensu- 
 ing year found it necessary to return to Algiers in 
 consequence of the renewed depredations of the Cor- 
 sairs. Having proceeded with his squadron to that 
 place, he anchored in the bay, directly opposite to, 
 and within gun-shot of, the palace, and then went on 
 shore, accompanied by his captain, and attended only 
 by his bargees crew. On his arrival at the palace he
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^85 
 
 demanded an audience, and on his admission to the 
 Divan, laid open his embassy, requiring at the same 
 time, in the name of his sovereign, ample satisfaction 
 for the various injuries done to the Britisii nation. 
 
 Surprised at the boklness of liis remonstrances, and 
 enraged at his demands of justice, the Dey, despising 
 his apparent youth, for he was then only four and 
 twenty, exclaimed, that he wondered at the insolence 
 of the King of Great Britain in sending him an insig- 
 nificant beardless boy. 
 
 On this the youthful, but spirited, Commodore is 
 said to have returned an answer in so determined and 
 fearless a manner as to rouse all the passions of the 
 tyrant, who, unused to such language from the syco- 
 phants of his court, was so far enraged as to forget 
 the law of nations, in respect to embassadors, and 
 actually ordered his mutes to advance with the bow- 
 string, at the same time telling the Commodore, that 
 his life should answer for his audacity. 
 
 The Commodore listened to this menace with the 
 utmost calmness, and being near to a window which 
 looked out upon the bay, directed the attention of the 
 African chief to the squadron there at anchor, telling 
 him, that if it was his pleasure to put him to death, 
 there were Englishmen enough on board to make a 
 glorious funeral pile. The Dey having cooled a little 
 at this hint, was wise enough to permit the Commo- 
 dore to depart in safety, and also to make ample sat- 
 isfaction for the damage already done, faithfully 
 promising to abstain from violence in future. 
 
 To return to our subject — Mr. Reynolds now pro- 
 ceeded for Leghorn, and from thence to Rome. 
 When arrived in this garden of the world, this great 
 temple of the arts, (where I have enjoyed so much 
 pleasure, now almost fading from my memory,) his 
 time was diligently and judiciously employed in such 
 a manner as might have been expected from one of his 
 talents and virtue. He contemplated, with unwearied 
 attention and ardent zeal, the various beauties which 
 marked the styles of different schools and different
 
 26 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ages. He sought for truth, taste, and beauty at the 
 fountaiu liead. It was with no common eye that he 
 beheld the productions of the great masters. He 
 copied and sketched in the Vatican such parts of the 
 works of Raff'aelle and Michael Angelo as he thought 
 would be most conducive to his future excellence ; and 
 by his well directed study acquired, whilst he con- 
 templated the best works of the best masters, that 
 grace of thinking to which he was principally indebt- 
 ed for his subsequent reputation as a portrait painter. 
 In attending more particularly to this, he avoided all 
 engagements for copying works of art for the various 
 travellers at that time in Rome; knowing that kind 
 of employment, as he afterwards said in a letter 
 to Barry, to be totally useless — ^' Whilst I was at 
 Rome, I was very little employed by them, and that 
 little I always considered as so much time lost." 
 
 Whilst pursuing his studies at Rome, several other 
 English artists were there, to the same intent; par- 
 ticularly Mr. John Astley, who had been his fellow 
 pupil in the school of Hudson, and of whom Rey- 
 nolds used to say, that Astley would rather run three 
 miles to deliver his message by word of mouth than 
 venture to write a note. Probably his education had 
 been neglected ; however, he afterwards became a very 
 rich man by an advantageous marriage whicli he con- 
 tracted with a wealthy lady of qualit^^ The observa- 
 tion of his biographer on this event is, that Astley 
 owed his fortune to his form ; his follies to his for- 
 tune: indeed, at the period of his life I now allude to, 
 be was as poor in purse, as he ever was an artist. 
 
 It was an usual custom with the English painters 
 at Rome to meet in tlie evenings for conversation, and 
 frequently to make little excursions together in the 
 country. On one of those excursions, on a summer 
 afternoon, when the season was particularly hot, the 
 whole company threw ofl' their coats, as being an in- 
 cumbrance to tliem, except poor Astley, who alone 
 shewed great reluctance to take off his ; this seemed 
 very unaccountable to his companions, when some
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 2"^ 
 
 jokes made on Ihs sinSjUlarity, at last obligeil him to 
 take liis coat off also. The mystery was then imme- 
 diately explained ; for it appeared, that the hinder 
 part of his waistcoat was made by way of thriftiness, 
 out of one of his own pictures, and thus displayed a 
 tremendous waterfall on his back, to the great diver- 
 sion of all the spectators. 
 
 Mr. Reynolds was too much occupied in his studies 
 to dictate much time to epistolary correspondence; 
 but I think it not improper to insert here the follow- 
 ing letter, as the first sketch of one he sent to his 
 friend and patron Lord E., written with admirable 
 simplicity of language, and rendered interesting from 
 the elegant, grateful, and feeling mind it displays, as 
 well as shewing the absurdity of imputing some others 
 to his pen. 
 
 " TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD E. 
 *^ MY LORD, 
 
 ^^ I am now (thanks to your Lordship) at the 
 height of my wishes, in tiie midst of the greatest 
 works of art that the world has produced. I had a 
 very long passage, though a very pleasant one. 1 am 
 at last in Rome, having seen many places and sights 
 which I never thought of seeing. 1 iiave been at 
 Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Algiers, and Mahon. The 
 Commodore staid at Lisbon a week, in which time 
 there happened two of th^ greatest sights that could 
 be seen had he staid there a whole year, — a bull 
 feast, and the procession of Corpus Christi. Your 
 Lordship will excuse me if I say, that from the kind 
 treatment and great civilities I have received from the 
 Commodore, 1 fear I have even laid your Lordship 
 under obligations to him on my account; since from 
 nothing but your Lordship's recommendation I could 
 possibly expect to meet with that polite behaviour 
 with which I have always been treated : I had the use 
 «f his cabin, and his study of books, as if they had 
 
 E
 
 28 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been my own; and when he went ashore he generally 
 took me with him ; so that I not only had an opportuni- 
 ty of seeing a great deal, but I saw it with all the 
 advantages as if I had travelled as his equal. At 
 Cadiz I saw another bull feast. I ask your Lordship's 
 pardon for being guilty of that usual piece of ill man- 
 ners in speaking so much of myself; I should not have 
 committed it after such favours. Impute my not 
 Avritingto the true reason: I thought it impertinent to 
 write to your Lordship without a proper reason ; to let 
 you know where I am, if your Lordship should have 
 any commands here that I am capable of executing. 
 Since I have been in Rome, I have been looking 
 about the palaces for a fit picture of which I might 
 take a copy to present your Lordship with; though it 
 would have been much more genteel to have sent the 
 picture without any previous intimation of it. Any 
 one you choose, the larger the better, as it will have a 
 more grand eifect when hung up, and a kind of paint- 
 ing I like more than little. Though perhaps it will be 
 too great a presumption to expect it, I must needs own 
 I most impatiently wait for this order from your Lord- 
 ship. 
 
 " I am, &c. &c. 
 
 " Joshua Reynolds." 
 
 Sir Joshua has himself ingenuously confessed, in 
 his writing, that at the first sight of Raffaelle's works 
 in the Vatican, to his great disappointment, he did not 
 relish, or well comprehended their merits, but that he 
 studied them til! he did. 
 
 Perhaps we may account for this circumstance from 
 the difference iu the dispositions of the two painters : 
 Raffaelle possessed a grandeur even to severity ; and 
 did not display in his pictures either the allurements of 
 colour, or any great effect of light and shade; parts of 
 the art which delighted Reynolds, whose natural dis- 
 position inclined him solely to the cultivation of its
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g9 
 
 graces, and of whose works, softness and captivating 
 sweetness are the chief characteristics. 
 
 It is a curious circumstance, and scarcely to be 
 credited in the life of an artist so refined, who seems, 
 even from the earliest dawning of his genius, to liave 
 devoted himself to the service of the graces, tiiat he 
 should ever have been, at any period, a ciirlcaturist. 
 Yet this was actually the case during his residence at 
 Rome, where he painted several pictures of that kind ; 
 particularly one which is a sort of parody on Raf- 
 faelle's School of Athens, comprising about thirty 
 figures and representing most of tlie English gentle- 
 men then in that city : this picture, I have been inform- 
 ed, is now in the possession of a jVIr. Joseph Henry, 
 of Stralfan, in Ireland, whose portrait also it contains. 
 But I have heard Sir .Joshua himself say, that al- 
 though it was universally allow ed he executed sub- 
 jects of this kind with much honour and spirit, lie yet 
 held it absolutely necessary to abandon the practice, 
 since it must corrupt his taste as a portrait painter, 
 whose duty it becomes to aim at discovering the per- 
 fections only of those whom he is to represent. 
 
 After remaining in Italy about three years, in which 
 time he visited most of the principal cities of that 
 country, he returned to England l3y the way of France, 
 and took the road over Mount Cenis, upon which 
 mountain he very unexpectedly met with his old 
 master, Hudson, in company with Roubiliac the 
 famous sculptor, both going to pay a short visit to 
 Rome. 
 
 Of Roubiliac it is a pleasing circumstance to record, 
 that his own goodness of heart first brought his ex.- 
 cellent abilities into notice, and that his great success 
 in life seems to have depended, in some degree, on 
 his honest and liberal conduct soon after he came to 
 England. At that time he was merely working as a 
 journeyman for a person of the name of Carter, and 
 the young artist having spent an evening at Vauxhall, 
 on his return picked up a pocket-book, which he dis- 
 covered on examining it at his lodgings, to contain a
 
 30 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 considerable number of Bank notes, together witli 
 some papers apparently of consequence to the owner. 
 He immediately advertised the circumstance, and a 
 claimant soon appeared, who was so pleased w ith tlie 
 intei;;rity of the youth, and so struck with his genius, 
 of which he shewed several specimens, that lie not 
 only, being a man of rank and fortune, gave him a 
 Ijaudsome remuneration, but also promised to j)at- 
 ronize him through life, and faithfully performed that 
 promise. 
 
 On the arrival of Mr. Reynolds at Paris, he met 
 his friend Mr. Chambers, the architect (afterwards 
 Sir William,) accompanied by his wife, then also ou 
 their way to Rome ; and whilst there he painted the 
 portrait of Mrs. Chambers, which has since been 
 copied in mezzotinto. With this eminent architect, 
 indeed, he long continued in habits of intimacy, res- 
 pecting him as an instance of genius rising in ppposi- 
 tion to circumstance. 
 
 ]Mr. Chambers, it is pretty generally known, ^vas, 
 though a Swede by birth, a Briton by descent, having 
 sprung from the ancient family of Chalmers in Scot- 
 land, who were also barons of Tartas in France : his 
 father was a merchant, and had suflered much in his 
 fortune by supplying Charles the Twelfth with money 
 and goods during his campaigns, for which he re- 
 ceived nothing more than the base copper coiu of that 
 mad monarch, struck for the purpose in his various 
 emergencies, and which becoming soon depreciated, 
 the generous and confiding merchant was involved in 
 ruin. 
 
 At the early age of two years, Sir William was 
 brought to England and placed at Rippon school in 
 Yorkshire, after leaving which he was appointed to a 
 situation nnder the India Company, which carried 
 him to China : he then returned to London, and soon 
 displayed those talents for architecture which intro- 
 duced him to the notice of the Earl of Bute, who im- 
 mediately appointed him drawing master to his present 
 Majesty, a situation partly held also by Goupy ; in
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^ 
 
 consequence of this connection he soon had the man- 
 agement of the Gardens at Kevv. 
 
 Sir William Chambers's works in architecture are 
 numerous in England, Scotland, and Ireland ; but the 
 princij)al and best of them is Somerset Place, com- 
 menced by him in the year I776, (but not yet fully 
 completed.) under his immediate and constant inspec- 
 tion, according to his original designs. Of his writings 
 the principal ones are, '* A Treatise on Ci\il Archi- 
 tecture,*' which has gone through three editions — 
 ^^ A Dissertation on Oriental Cxardening,"' which 
 has gone through two, and has been elegantly trans- 
 lated into Frencii, by Monsieur de la liochet, with 
 Chetqua's Explanatory Discourse, in defence of that 
 work. 
 
 After parting with his friends at Paris, Mr. Rey- 
 nolds proceeded for the British metropolis, and on his 
 arrival in England, which took place in the month of 
 October, 17^^} he found his health in such an in- 
 different state, as to judge it prudent to pay a visit 
 to his native air, and accordingly set oft* immediate- 
 ly for Plymouth, during which visit to that town, he 
 painted the portrait of his friend Dr. JMudge, a re- 
 markable fine head, of which there is also a print. 
 From this time a warm, disinterested, and reciprocal 
 friendship subsisted between this truly respectable 
 family of the Mudges and Mr. Reynolds, who always 
 held them in the highest esteem, and the friendly con- 
 nection between them was kept up to the latest period 
 of his life. 
 
 This portrait and one other of a young lady were 
 all that he undertook whilst at Plymouth, being 
 strongly urged by his friend Lord Edgecumbe to re- 
 turn as soon as possible, to the metropolis, as the only 
 place where his fame could be established and his 
 fortune advanced ; in consequence of which advice, as 
 soon as his health permitted, he set off for London, and 
 engaged handsome apartments in St. Martin's lane, at 
 that time the favourite and fashionable residence of 
 artists, about the end of the year 17^3.
 
 33 MEiMOIRS OF 
 
 At this period, as it is recorded of him, the earliest 
 specimen lie gave of his improvement in the art, was 
 the head of a boy in a Turkish turban, richly painted, 
 something in the style of Rembrandt; which being 
 much talked of, induced his old master, Hudson, to 
 pay him a visit, when it so much attracted his at- 
 tention, that he called every day to see it in its pro- 
 gress, and perceiving at last no trace of his own 
 manner left, he exclaimed, " By G — , Reynolds, you 
 don't paint so well as when you left England !'' 
 
 This little anecdote, however, we must consider as 
 a jest upon Hudson by some of his contemporaries, or 
 else it would seem that he had improved but little in 
 taste during his Italian tour, in his progress to which, 
 Mr. Reynolds had met him, but the year before, upon 
 Mount Cenis. 
 
 The first pupil whom Mr. Reynolds had under his 
 care was Giuseppe Marchi, a young Italian whom he 
 brought home with him from Rome, the place of his 
 birth. He continued with him the principal part of 
 his life, and assisted him in making his copies, in 
 sitting for attitudes for his portraits, and in partly 
 painting his draperies. In the latter part of his time 
 he had a salary from Sir Joshua, I think about a liun- 
 dred per year, together with his board and lodging, 
 but left him many years before his death, and went to 
 Swansea in Wales, w^here he practised as a portrait 
 painter; some time after he returned again to London, 
 and to Sir Joshua, with whom he continued till the 
 death of the latter; after which he completed as well 
 as he was able, several pictures which Sir Joshua 
 had left unfinished. 
 
 The picture mentioned above of a boy in a Turkish 
 habit, was painted from this Giuseppe Marchi by Sir 
 Joshua, soon after their arrival in England, and is a 
 great likeness ; there is a mezzotinto print taken from 
 it. Marchi sometimes scraped in mezzotinto himself, 
 and there are several plates done by him from the 
 paintings of Reynolds. He died in London, but at 
 what time I do not exactly know.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 33 
 
 It was about the year 1753 that Mr. Reynolds so 
 much distinguished himself by some of his most 
 admired portraits ; and he now found his prospects so 
 bright and extensive, that he removed to a large house 
 on the north side of Great Newport- street, where he 
 afterwards resided for eight or nine years. 
 
 This period was the dawn of his splendour: for his 
 amiable modesty, accompanied by his extraordinary 
 talents, soon gained him powerful and active connec- 
 tions : even his earliest sitters were of the highest rank ; 
 the second portrait which he painted in London being 
 that of the old Duke of Devonshire. Yet Mr. Rey- 
 nolds, notwithstanding this auspicious commencement 
 of his career in London, seems to have been annoyed 
 by the great celebrity of a very mean competitor, but 
 who, at that time, was the pink of fashion. This was 
 John Stephen Liotard, a native of Geneva; he was 
 born in 1/02, and was designed for a merchant, but he 
 went to study at Paris in 17^5, and in 1738 accom- 
 panied the Marquis de Puisieux to Rome, who was 
 going embassador to Naples. At Rome he was taken 
 notice of by the Earls of Sandwich and Besborough 
 (then Lord Duncannon,) who engaged Liotard to go 
 with them on a voyage to Constantinople. 
 
 At the Porte he became acquainted with Richard 
 second Lord Edgecumbe, (who was the particular and 
 early friend of Mr. Reynolds.) and Sir Everard 
 Fawkener, our embassador, who persuaded him to 
 come to England. In his journey to the Levant he had 
 adopted the Eastern habit, and wore it here with a 
 very long beard. It contributed much to the portraits 
 of himself, and some thought it was to attract cus- 
 tomers. He painted both in miniature and enamel, 
 though he seldom practised them : but he is best 
 known by his works in crayons. His likenesses were 
 very strong, and too like to please those who sat to 
 him; thus he had great employment the first year and 
 very little the second. Devoid of imagination, he 
 could render nothing but what he saw before his eyes. 
 Freckles, marks of the small-pox, every thing found
 
 Si - MEiMOIRS OF 
 
 its place; not so ranch from infidelity, as becanse he 
 could not conceive the absence of any thing that ap- 
 peared to him. Minuteness prevailed in all his works, 
 grace in none; nor was there any ease in his outlines, 
 but the stiifuess of a bust in all his portraits. Thence 
 bis heads want air^ind the softness of flesh. 
 
 Reynolds gives his opinion of this artist thas : 
 *'The only merit in Liotard's pictures is neatness, 
 which, as a 2;eneral rule, is the cliaracteristic of a low 
 genius, or rather no genius at all. His pictures are 
 just wliat ladies do when they paint for their amuse- 
 ment; nor is there any person, how poor soever their 
 talents may be, but in a very few years, by dint of 
 practice, may possess themselves of every qualification 
 in the art which this great man has got.^' Liotard was 
 twice in England, and staid about two years each 
 time. 
 
 In respect to the laborious, and what is called the 
 finished manner. Sir Joshua used to add, that the 
 high finished manner of painting would be to be 
 chosen, if it was possible with it to have that spirit 
 and expression which inHillibly fly off when you 
 labour; but those are transient beauties which last 
 less than a moment, and must be painted in as little 
 time ; besides, in poring long, the imagination is 
 fatigued and loses its vigour. You will find nature in 
 the lirst manner, but it will be nature stupid and with- 
 out action. Tlie portraits of Holbein are of this high 
 finished manner ; and. for colouring and similitude, 
 what was ever beyond them ? but then you see fixed 
 countenances, and all the features seem to remain im- 
 moveable. Gerard Vanderwerf also — how spiritless 
 are his figures ! 
 
 Mr. Reynolds now exerted his talents to the ut- 
 most of their powers, and produced a singularly fine 
 whole length portrait of his patron Commodore Kep- 
 |)el, in which he appears to be walking with a quick 
 pace on the sea-shore, and in a storm. Tiiis picture, by 
 its excellence and the novelty of the attitude, attracted 
 general notice: and its design as I have been inform-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 35 
 
 ed, and perhaps with some truth, arose from the foU 
 ]ovving interesting circumstance in the life of his noble 
 friend. 
 
 Mr. Keppel having been appointed to the command 
 of the Maidstone frigate in the year 1746, soon after 
 his return from the eventful voyage under Commodore 
 Anson, lie was unfortunately v, recked in that ship, on 
 the coast of France, on the 7th of July in the subse- 
 quent year; for running close in shore, in pursuit of a 
 French privateer, in the vicinity of Nantz. she struck 
 and soon afterwards went to pieces. Captain Keppel, 
 by his skill and active exertions, saved the lives of 
 his crew ; but they were immediately made prisoners : 
 they, as well as he, were treated with great hospitali- 
 ty and politeness, and he himself was in a few v/eeks 
 permitted to return to England, when a court-martial, 
 as usual upon such occasions, was held upon him, 
 and he was honourably acquitted from all blame 
 respecting the loss he had sustained. 
 
 The portrait represents him as just escaped from 
 shipwreck ; and has since been engraved by Fisher, 
 that most exact and laborious artist, of whom feir 
 Joshua used to say, that he was injudiciously exact 
 in his prints, which were mostly in the mezzotinto 
 style, and wasted his time in making the precise 
 shape of every leaf on a tree with as much care as he 
 would bestow on the features of a portrait. Fisher 
 himself was not, indeed, brought up to the art ; it is 
 said that he was originally a hatter: he has, however, 
 made some good copies of several of Sir Joshua's 
 best pictures, particularly those of Ganick and Lady 
 Sarah Bunbury. 
 
 The novelty and expression introduced in his por- 
 trait of Mr. Keppel, were powerful stimulants to the 
 public taste; and, as it has been well observed by 
 one of his biographers, he " soon saw how much ani- 
 mation might be obtained by deviating from the in- 
 sipid manner of his immediate predecessors ; hence in 
 many of his portraits, particularly when combined in 
 family groups, we find much of the variety and spirit 
 
 F
 
 36 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of a higher species of art. Justead of confining him- 
 self to mere likeness, in which, however, he was emi- 
 nently happy, he dived, as it were, into the minds, 
 and manners, and hahits, of those who sat to him; 
 and accordingly tlie majority of his ]>ortraits arc so 
 appropriate and characteristic, that the many ilUistri- 
 ous persons whom he has delineated, ■will he almost 
 as well known to posterity, as if they had seen and 
 conversed with them.'' 
 
 Soon after this lie added to his celebrity hy his 
 pictme of jMiss fircviile and her lirother, as Cupid 
 and Psyche, w liich, it has been well observed, he 
 composed and executed in a style superior to any 
 portraits that had been produced in this kingdom 
 since the days of Vandyke. 
 
 He was now employed to paint several ladies of 
 high quality, whose portraits the polite world flocked 
 to see. and he soon became one of the most distin- 
 guished painiers, not only in England, but in Europe. 
 For it should be remarked, that at this time there 
 were no historical works to make a demand upon tlie 
 painter's skill: and though it may seem a curious ob- 
 servation, it will nevertheless be found, on examina- 
 lion, to be one most true, that hitherto this empire of 
 Great Britain, so great, so rich, so magnificent, so 
 benevolent, so abundant in all the luxury that the most 
 ample wealth could procure, even this exalted em- 
 pire had never yet been able to keep above one single 
 historical painter from starving, w hilst portrait painters 
 have sw armed in a plenty at all times thick as '^ au- 
 tumnal leaves in Tallombrosa." 
 
 A true taste was wanting; vanity, however, was not 
 wanting: and the desire to perpetuate the form of self- 
 complacency crov. dcd his sitting room with women 
 who wished to be transmitted as angels, and with men 
 who wanted to appear as heroes and philosophers. 
 From Reynolds's pencil they were sure to be gratified. 
 The force and felicity of his portraits not only drew 
 around him the opulence and beauty of the nation, but 
 happily gained him the merited honour of perpet-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 37 
 
 Hating the features of all the eminent and distinguish- 
 ed men of learning then living; with most of whom 
 (so attractive were his manners as well as his talents) 
 he contracted an intimacy which only ended with life. 
 In this assemhlage of genius, each was improved hy 
 each. Reynolds, like a man of great mind, always 
 cultivated the acquaintance and friendshijj of the first 
 characters of his time ; and often assisted those who 
 were in difficulties, hotli with his advice and his 
 purse. 
 
 He had a mind ever open and desirous to acquire 
 useful information, a sound and penetrating judgment 
 to select and separate what he acquired, and infinite 
 industry and application in rendering it serviceable to 
 its proper purpose. 
 
 It was not my good fortune to be personally ac- 
 quainted with him at this early period of his fame, 
 when he first became intimate with the (afterwards) 
 great Dr. Johnson; to whom, as Mr. Boswell says, 
 *' Sir Joshua Reynolds was truly his dulce deciis, and 
 with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy 
 to the last hour of his life." I shall therefore avail 
 myself of the very just account of the event, as related 
 by Mr. Malone in the sketch prefixed to his works. 
 
 " Very soon after Sir Joshua's return from Italy, 
 his acquaintance with Dr. Johnson commenced; and 
 their intimacy continued uninterrupted to the time of 
 Johnson's death. Happeniu'j; to meet with the life of 
 Savage, in Devonshire, which, though published some 
 years before, was new to him, he began to read it," 
 (as Mr. Boswell has informed us,) '•• while he was 
 standins; with his arm leanins; asiainst a cliimnev- 
 piece. It siezed his attention so strongly, that, not 
 being able to lay down the book till he had finished it, 
 when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally 
 benumbed." Being then unacquainted with the au- 
 thor, he must naturally have had a strong desire to see 
 and converse with that extraordinary man; and, as 
 the same writer relates, lie, about this time, w^as in- 
 troduced to him. When Johnson lived in Castle- 

 
 83 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 street, Caveiulisli-sqiiare, he used to visit two ladi* s 
 who resided at that time in Newport-street, opposite 
 to Revnohi's, Miss Cotterells, daughters of Admiral 
 Cotterell; Reyiiohls used to visit there also, and thus 
 they met. Mr. Reynolds, as I have observed above, 
 had, from the first reading of his Life of Savage, 
 conceived a very high adiiiiration of Johnson's pow* 
 ers as a writer. His conversation no less delighted 
 him, and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laud- 
 able zeal of one who was ambitious of general im- 
 provement. Sir Joshua, indeed was lucky enough, at 
 their very first meeting, to make a remark, which was 
 so much aI)ove the common place style of conversation, 
 that Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had 
 the habit of thinking for himself. The ladies were 
 regretting the death of a friend, to whom they owed 
 great obligations; upon which Reynolds observed, 
 " You have, however, the comfort of being relieved 
 from the burden of gratitude.*' They were shocked a 
 little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish ; but 
 Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, 
 and was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of 
 human nature it exhibited, like some of the Reflections 
 of Rochefoueault. The consequence was, that he 
 Avent home with Reynolds, and supped with him. Sir 
 Joshua used to relate a characteristic anecdote of John- 
 son. About the time of their first acquaintance, when 
 they were one evening together at the Miss Cotterells, 
 the then Duchess of Argyle and another lady of high 
 rank came in : Johnson, thinking that the Miss Cotter- 
 ells were too much engrossed by them, and that he 
 and his friend were neglected as low company, of 
 whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew angry; 
 and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by 
 making iheir great visitors imagine they were low in- 
 deed, he addressed himself in a loud tone to Mr. 
 Reynolds, saying, ^' How much do you think you and 
 I could get in a week, if we were to work as hard as 
 we could P'^ as if they had been common mechanics.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ' ^9 
 
 This anecdote, as it relates to Johnson, betrays in 
 him more of pride, envy, and vulgarity, than of the 
 patience of philosophy, totally unlike the disposition 
 of his companion to whom he addressed his speech. 
 
 Another anecdote, which I heard related by Sir 
 Joshua's sister, serves to shew how susceptible John- 
 son's pride was of the least degree of mortification. 
 
 At the time when Sir Joshua resided in Newport- 
 street, he one afternoon, accompanied by his sister 
 Frances, paid a visit to the Miss Cotterells, who 
 lived much in the fashionable world. Johnson was 
 also of the party on this tea visit ; and at that time be- 
 ing very poor, he was, as might be expected, rather 
 shabbily and slovenly apparelled. The maid ser- 
 vant, by accident, attended at the door to let them in, 
 but did not know Johnson, although he had been a 
 frequent visitor at the house, he having always been 
 attended by the man servant. Johnson was the last of 
 the three that came in ; wiien the servant maid, seeing 
 this uncouth and dirty figure of a man, and not con- 
 ceiving he could be one of the company who came to 
 visit her mistresses, laid hold of his coat just as he was 
 going up stairs, and pulled him back again, saying, 
 " You fellow, what is your business here? I suppose 
 you intended to rob the house." This most unlucky 
 accident threw poor Johnson into such a fit of shame 
 and anger, that he roared out, like a bull, for he could 
 not immediately articulate, and was with difficulty at 
 last able to utter, " What have I done? What have 
 I done?" Nor could he recover himself for the re 
 mainder of the evening from this mortifying circum^ 
 stance. 
 
 Of these ladies, the Miss Cotterells, so often men 
 tioned in Johnson's Biography, as well as by the dif 
 ferent writers who speak of Sir Joshua, it will not be 
 reckoned obtrusive here to notice that they were the 
 daughters of a very respectable naval officer, Rear 
 Admiral Charles Cotterell, who, towards the latter 
 part of his life, was not employed in the service, 
 having been put on the superannuated list of llag-
 
 40 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 officers in IT'iv- He died in 17^1, very soon after Sir 
 Josliua's atijiiainlance took place with his family. 
 His first appointment to the command of a ship was 
 in 1726j when he succeeded Sir Yelvcrton Peyton in 
 the Diamond frigate ; and five years afterwards lie 
 was removed to the Princess Louisa, a line of battle 
 ship. On the rupture with Spain, in 1739, he was 
 commissioned in the Lion, of sixty guns, and served 
 with Sir John Norris in the Channel fleet during the 
 ensuing summer; after which he was ordered to pro- 
 ceed to the West Indies, in a squadron commanded 
 by Sir Chaloner Ogle, for the express purpose of rein- 
 forcing Admiral Vernon, previous to the attack upon 
 Carthagena. Captain Cotterell was actively engaged 
 in that service, and, soon after its failure, returned to 
 ^England; when, his ship being paid off, he was ap- 
 pointed to the command of the Canterbury, in 17-1~. 
 In that ship he went on service to Gibraltar, and on 
 his return w'as promoted to the Royal George, in 
 which ship he served for some time in the Channel 
 fleet ; but this was his last comminsion, as he remained 
 unemployed after her being paid oif, and, according 
 to the etiquette of the service, lost his flag, not being 
 in actual service, and in full pay, when the promotion 
 took place in 1747- 
 
 I have recorded this veteran's services the more 
 particularly as his daughters have been so often men- 
 tioned : and in unison with the preceding anecdote of 
 the Doctor, w hose external appearance had so much 
 deceived the servant at the Miss Cotterells, I may 
 also note, that Johnson, it is well known, was as re- 
 markably uncouth in his gait and action, as slovenly 
 in ills dress, insomuch as to attract the attention of 
 passengers who by chance met him in the street. 
 Once, particularly, he was thus annoyed by an im- 
 pertinent fellow, who noticed ijim, and insultingly 
 imitated him in derision so ludicrously, that the Doc- 
 tor could not avoid seeing it, and was obliged to 
 resent it, which he did in this manner: "Ah!" said 
 Johnson. "^ vou are a weak fellow, and I will con- 
 
 I
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 4i 
 
 viiice you of it;" when immediately he gave him a 
 blow, which knocked the man out of the foot-path 
 into the dirty street flat on his back, and the Doctor 
 walked calmly on. 
 
 Another circumstance Sir Joshua used to mention 
 relative to Dr. Johnson, which gives an idea of the 
 situation and mode of living of that great philosopher 
 in the early part of his life. 
 
 Roubiliac, the famous sculptor, desired of Sir 
 Joshua that lie would introduce him to Dr. Johnson, 
 at the time when the Doctor lived in Gough-sqiiare, 
 Fleet-street. His object was to prevail on Johnson to 
 write an epitaph for a monument, on which Iloubiliac 
 was then engaged for Westminster Abbey. Sir Joshua 
 accordingly introduced the Sculptor to the Doctor, 
 they being strangers to each other, and Johnson re- 
 ceived him with much civility, and took them up into 
 a garret, which he considered as his library; in which, 
 besides his books, all covered with dust, there was au 
 old crazy deal table, and a still worse and older elbow 
 chair, having only three legs. In this chair Johnson 
 seated himself, after having, with considerable dex- 
 terity and evident practice, first drawn it up against the 
 w all, which served to support it on tliat side on which 
 the leg was deficient. He then took up his pen, and 
 demanded what they wanted him to write. On this 
 Koubiliac, who was a true Frenchman, (as may be 
 seen by his works,) began a most bombastic and 
 ridiculous harangue, on what he thought should be 
 the kind of epitaph most proper for the purpose, all 
 wliicli the Doctor was to write down for him in correct 
 language; when Johnson, who could not sulTer any 
 one to dictate to him, quickly interrupted him in an 
 angry tone of voice, saying, ^^ Come, come, Sir, let us 
 have no more of this bombastic, ridiculous rhodoraon- 
 tade, but let me know, in simple language, the name, 
 character, and quality, of the person whose epitaph 
 you intend to have me write." 
 
 Such was the first interview of two men both emi- 
 nent for genius ; and of lloubiliac I may here record
 
 4S MExMOIRS OF 
 
 another anecdote which took place on tlie return of 
 that Sculptor from Rome, when he paid a visit to 
 Heynolds, and expressed himself in raptures on what 
 he had seen on the Continent — on the exquisite beauty 
 of the works of antiquity, and the captivating and 
 luxuriant splendour of Bernini. " It is natural to 
 suppose," said he, ^^ that I was infinitely impatient 
 till I had taken a survey of ray own performances in 
 Westminster Abbey, after having seen such a variety 
 
 of excellence, and by G my own work looked to 
 
 me meagre and starved, as if made of notliing but 
 tobacco-pipes." 
 
 A strong proof this of the improvement he liad 
 gained from his tour to tlie Continent, of his candor, 
 and uncommon humility. 
 
 Doctor Johnson had a great desire to cultivate the 
 friendship of llichardson, the author of Clarissa, and 
 with this view paid him frequent visits. These were 
 received very coldly by the latter ; " but," observed 
 the Doctor (in speaking of this to a friend,) " I was 
 determined to persist till I had gained my point ; be- 
 cause I knew very well, that when I had once over- 
 come his reluctance and shyness of humour, our inti- 
 macy would contribute much to the happiness of 
 both." The event verified the Doctor's prediction. 
 
 It must, however, be remarked, that an intimacy 
 with Johnson was always attended with a certain 
 portion of inconvenience to persons whose time was 
 much occupied, as his visits to those he liked were 
 long, frequent, and very irregular in the hours. 
 
 The Doctor's intercourse with Sir Joshua was at 
 first produced in the same manner as is described in 
 respect to Richardson. He frequently called in the 
 evening, and remained to a late hour, when Sir 
 Joshua was desirous of going into new company, 
 after having been harrassed by his professional occu- 
 pations the whole day. This sometimes overcame his 
 patience to such a degree, that, one evening in particu- 
 lar, on entering the room where Johnson was waiting 
 to see him, he immediately took up liis hat and went
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 43 
 
 out of the house. Reynolds hoped by this raeans he 
 would have been effectually cured; hut Johnson still 
 persisted, and at last gained his friendship. 
 
 Johnson introduced Sir Joshua and his sister to 
 Richardson, but hinted to them, at the same time, 
 that if they wished to see the latter in good humour, 
 they must expatiate on the excellencies of his Clarissa. 
 
 Johnson soon became a frequent visitor at Sir 
 Joshua's, particularly at Miss Reynolds's tea-table, 
 where he liad every opportunity of female conv ersa- 
 tion whilst drinking his favourite beverage. 
 
 Indeed his visits were not alone to Sir Joshua, but 
 to Miss Reynolds, for whom lie had the highest 
 respect and veneration ; to such a degree, that some 
 years afterwards, whilst the company at Mr. Thralc's 
 were speculating upon a microscope for the mind, 
 Johnson exclaimed, " I never saw one that would 
 bear it, except that of my dear Miss Reynolds, and 
 her's is very near to purity itself." 
 
 There is no doubt that Miss Reynolds gained 
 much of his good-will by her good-humoured attention 
 to his extraordinary predilection for tea, he himself 
 saying, that he wished his tea-kettle never to be cold ; 
 but Sir Joshua having once, whilst spending the 
 evening at Mr. Cumberland's, reminded him of the 
 enormous quantity he was swallowing, observing that 
 he fiad drank eleven cups^ Johnson replied, " Sir, I 
 did not count your glasses of wine, why then should 
 you number up my cups of tea?" 
 
 Johnson's extraordinary, or rather extravagant, 
 fondness for this refreshment did not fail to excite 
 notice wherever he went; and it is related, though not 
 by Boswell, that whilst on his Scottish tour, and 
 spending some time at Dunvegan, the eastle of the 
 chief of the Macleods, the Dowager Lady Macleod 
 having repeatedly helped him, until she had poured 
 out sixteen cups, she then asked him, if a small bason 
 would not save him trouble and be more agreeable? 
 — "I wonder. Madam," answered he roughly, ^* why 
 all the ladies ask me such questions ! It is to save 
 
 G
 
 4Jt MEMOIRS OF 
 
 yourselves trouble, Madam, and not me. The lady 
 was silent, and resumed her task. Every reader, in 
 this place, will recollect the so often told anecdote of 
 his versification at Miss Reynold's tea table, when 
 criticising Percy's Reliques, and imitating his ballad 
 style — 
 
 " Oh ! hear it then my Rennj dear, 
 " Nor hear it with a trown — 
 " You cannot make the tea so fast, 
 " As 1 can gulp it down." 
 
 Doctor Johnson's high opinion of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds was formed at a very early period of their in- 
 timacy, and increased, instead of diminishing, through 
 life. Once at Mr. Thrale's, when Sir Josliua left the 
 room, Johnson observed, " There goes a man not to 
 be spoiled by prosperity;*' — and on another occasion 
 he said, ^' A story is a specimen of human manners, 
 and derives its sole merit from its truth : when Foote 
 has told me something, I dismiss it from my mind like 
 a passing shadow: when Reynolds tells me some- 
 thing, I consider myself as possessed of an idea the 
 more.*' 
 
 In 1753, the artists began to exert themselves to 
 give some kind of public eclat to their profession, and 
 an Academy of Arts was proposed to be instituted. 
 For this purpose a meeting was called by circular 
 letter, in order to adopt the first principles for its 
 foundation : but some jealousiies and disagreements 
 prevented any thing being done : indeed, some invid- 
 ious persons were so anxious to thwart every thing 
 connected w ith the improvement of the national taste, 
 that they even descended to treat this as a subject fit 
 for caricature, and published some satirical prints, in 
 which they attempted to point ridicule at the most 
 active friends to the measure. These prints, however, 
 if they had any effect at the time, are now sunk in 
 oblivion, and are no w"here to be found. 
 
 In 1755 Mr. Reynolds was still advancing in fame. 
 His price in that year was twelve guineas for a head
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 45 
 
 only, and for half and whole lengths in proportion. 
 It was about this time too, that a conversation took 
 plaee between him and Johnson, which may in some 
 measure, be considered as a kind of apology on the 
 part of Johnson, for having, in some degree, forced 
 himself into an intimacy ; when Johnson said, '• If a 
 man does not make new acquaintance as he advances 
 through life, he will soon find himself alone : a man. 
 Sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair." 
 
 From a letter of Dr. Johnson to Bennet Langton, 
 in the year 1758, we find that the fame of Air. Rey- 
 nolds had so far increased, as to justify him in raising 
 his price pretty considerably. He says — *• Mr. Rey- 
 nolds has this day (January 9th) raised his price to 
 twenty guineas a head, and Miss is much employed 
 in miniatures. I know not any body else whose pros- 
 perity has increased since you left them." 
 
 Notwithstanding Sir Joshua's prosperity was now 
 so great as to occupy the whole of his time, yet in the 
 succeeding year he found leisure to produce his first 
 eflforts in the literary way, consisting of three papers 
 for the Idler, then conducted and principally executed 
 by his friend Johnson. At that time, indeed, Johnson 
 was under many obligations, as well as those literary 
 ones, to Sir Joshua, whose generous kindness would 
 never permit his friends to ask a pecuniary favour, 
 his purse and heart being always open. 
 
 Johnson, however, still preserved the strong spirit 
 of independent exertion; and being at tiiis period 
 pushed for money to defray the expenses of his 
 mother's funeral, and to settle some little debts she 
 had left, he sat dovv^n to his *' Rasselas," which, as 
 he afterwards informed Sir Joshua, he composed in 
 the evenings of a single week, having it printed as 
 rapidly as it was written, and even not reading it 
 over until several years afterwards, when finding it 
 accidentally in a chaise, whilst travelling in company 
 with Mr. Boswell. Yet this work, so hastily written^ 
 enabled the publisher to pay him the sura of one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five pounds.
 
 46 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I have heard Sir Joshua repeat a speech which the 
 Doctor made about this time, and in wliich he gave 
 himself credit in two particulars : — " There are two 
 things,'' said he, " which I am confident I can do 
 very well: one is an introduction to any literary 
 work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should 
 be executed in the most perfect manner; the other is 
 a conclusion, shewing, from various causes, why the 
 execution has not been equal to what the author prom- 
 ised to himself and to the public. 
 
 The papers in the Idler, to which 1 have alluded, 
 are tiie numbers 7^« 79? and 85, written between Sep- 
 tember and November, 1759. In the first of these he 
 ridicules, with considerable humour, the cant of igno- 
 rant and presuming conuoisseurs, who, trusting to 
 narrow rules, are often guided by false principles ; 
 and even though these should be correct, are still 
 totally unqualified to form a just estimation of the 
 sublime beauties in works of genius : and in this Essay 
 he states a position which, given with his ingenuity, 
 has an appearance of as much novelty as truth, that 
 whatever part of an art can be executed or criticised 
 by rules, that part is no longer the work of genius, 
 which implies excellence out of the reach of rules : so 
 that, as he adds, if a man has not correct perceptions, 
 it will be in vain for him to endeavour to supply their 
 place by rules, which though they may certainly ena- 
 ble him to talk more learnedly, will never teach him 
 to distinguish more acutely. In laying down these 
 positions, he does not, however, assert that rules are 
 absolutely injurious to a just perception of works of 
 taste and genius, or to their execution; but merely 
 censures that scrupulous and servile attention to minute 
 exactness or frivolous ornament, which are sometimes 
 inconsistent with higher excellence, and always lost 
 in the blaze of expanded genius. 
 
 In his second Essay he displays a considerable 
 depth of thought, and great quickness of perception, 
 on the just meaning of the general rule, " to imitate 
 nature,'' He shews that a mere literal adherence to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 47 
 
 this rule would baulk every flight of fancy in the 
 painter, though these flights are what serve to immor- 
 talize the poet; such imitation, if conducted servilely, 
 being a species of drudgery to which the painter of 
 genius can never stoop, and one in which even the 
 understanding has no part, being merely a mechanical 
 eifort. He further shews, that pahiting has its best 
 plea for claiming kindred with its sister, Poetry, from 
 the power which, like her, it can exercise over the 
 imagination; and as he adds, it is to this power tha.t 
 the painter of genius directs his aim : in this sense he 
 studies nature, and often arrives at his end. even bv 
 being unnatural, in the coniined sense of the word. 
 His concluding remarks in this Essay, on the works 
 of Michael Angelo. contain in themselves a volume of 
 criticism, and displays that '^ enthusiasm of intel- 
 lectual energy,'' by which he was always moved, 
 when speaking of, or contemplating the productions 
 of, those masters most eminent for their intellectual 
 power. 
 
 In the third Essay, his definition of beauty is as 
 clear and distinct as his conception of it was accurate : 
 and from the inference he draws — that the works 
 of nature, if we compare one species with another, are 
 all equally beautiful, and that preference is given from 
 custom, or from some association of ideas, and thus, 
 that in creatures of the same species, beauty is the 
 medium or centre of all its various forms — he again 
 illustrates and confirms the principle of his first Essay, 
 proving that the painter, by attending to the invari- 
 able and general ideas of nature, profluces beauty; but 
 that, if he regards minute particularities and acciden- 
 tal discriminations, so far will he deviate from the 
 universal rule, and pollute his canvas with deformity. 
 Indeed, those papers may be considered as a kind of 
 syllabus of all his future discourses, and certainly 
 occasioned him some thinking in their composition. I 
 have heard Sir Joshua say, that Johnson required 
 them from him on a suduen emergency, and on that 
 account he sat up the whole night to complete them
 
 4^ MEMOIRS OF 
 
 in time ; and by it he was so much disordered, that it 
 produced a vertigo in his head. 
 
 The efforts of Mr. Keynolds had not only pro- 
 duced an improvement in the art, in consequence of 
 the number of professional men who imitated his 
 style, hut had also infused such a taste in the public 
 at large, that in tlie year I76O they were content to 
 pay twenty-five guineas for a head. 
 
 This improved taste in portrait painting had also 
 extended itself to other departments of the art, which 
 even but ten years before had been at but a low ebb 
 in public opinion; for though the artists had contrived 
 to support, by annual subscription, an academy in St. 
 jNtartiu's-lane, governed by a commitee of the whole 
 body, yet that whole body consisted of but a very 
 small number. 
 
 The public attention, indeed, had been fortunately, 
 in some measure, engaged by the paintings which 
 several of the professors h^d gratuitously bestowed 
 on the Foundling Hospital ; and the body of artists 
 were, from the result of this experiment, stimulated to 
 form a general exhibition of their several works, 
 which first took place in this year; and the exhibition 
 so far succeeded, as to have the double effect of 
 amusing and enlightening the public, whilst the 
 artists themselves were also gainers by the spirit of 
 emulation excited by -competition : for as Edward 
 observes, from the time of the accession of his present 
 Majesty to the throne, the arts have made more rapid' 
 advances towards perfection in Great Britain, than 
 ever was known in any other country in so short a 
 space of time. 
 
 Finding himself now sufficiently established to 
 move in a higher sphere, Mr. Reynolds quitted his 
 residence in Newport-street, and removed to Leices- 
 ter-fields, Avhere he had bought a handsome house on 
 the west side of the square; to which he added a 
 splendid gallery for the exhibition of his works, and 
 a commodious and elegant room for his sitters. In 
 this speculation^ as I have heard him confess; he laid
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 49 
 
 out almost the whole of the property he had then 
 realized. He also set up a handsome carriage ; and 
 his mode of living was in other respects suitably 
 elegant. 
 
 Johnson, this year, in a letter to Barretti, alludes to 
 the general exhibition just established, saying — " The 
 artists have instituted a yearly exhibition of pistures 
 and statues, in imitation, I am told, of foreign acade- 
 mies. This year was the second exhibition. They 
 please themselves much with the multitude of specta- 
 tors, and imagine that the English school will rise- 
 much in reputation. Reynolds is without a rival, and 
 continues to add thousands to thousands, which lie 
 deserves, am(mg other excellencies, by retaining his 
 kindness for Barretti." 
 
 ^^ This exhibition has filled the heads of the artists, 
 and lovers of Art. Surely life, if it be not long, is 
 tedious ; since we are forced to call in the assistance 
 of so many trifles, to rid us of our time — of that time 
 which never can return. '' 
 
 The cynical turn of this latter observation is cer- 
 tainly not in unison with the sentiments which dictated 
 the former part of the passage ; but we must make 
 allowances not only for the want of perception of the 
 beauties of painting, which was the natural conse- 
 quence of Johnson's near-sightedness, but also for 
 that species of envy which perhaps even Johnson felt 
 when comparing his own annual gains with those of 
 his fortunate friend. 
 
 At the first exhibition opened by the artists, tlie 
 Catalogue was the ticket of admission by which whole 
 companies could be admitted; but this mode was 
 found, by experiment, to produce little other than 
 tumult, and it was then considered as absolutely 
 necessary to demand one shilling admission from each 
 person. Johnson, although he speaks so supercilious- 
 ly of the arts, yet willingly employed his pen in 
 composing a Preface to the Catalogue which was then 
 given gratis : but as this was a new regulation, it was 
 thought requisite by the artists to give reasons to the
 
 50 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 public for this alteration; and, as Johnson lias done 
 this so well in his forcible and clear language, ex- 
 plaining t!ie nature and intention of the exhibition, 
 and also lias given so essential a part of historical 
 information in the region of the arts, I apprehend no 
 apology can be necessary for inserting it in this place. 
 
 JVritten hy Br. Johnson. 
 
 " Tlie public may justly require to be informed of 
 the nature and extent of every design for which tlie 
 favour of the public is openly solicited. The artists, 
 who were themselves the first promoters of an exhibi- 
 tion in this nation, and who have now contributed to 
 the following Catalogue, think it, therefore, necessary 
 to explain their purpose, and justify their conduct. 
 An exhibition of the works of art being a spectachi 
 new in the kingdom, has raised various opinions and . 
 conjectures among those who are nnacquainted with 
 the practice of foreign nations. Those who set their 
 performances to general view, have too often been con- 
 sidered the rivals of each other; as men actuated, if 
 not by avarice, at least by vanity, and contending for 
 superiority of fame, though not for a pecuniary prize. 
 It cannot be denied or doubted, that all who offer 
 themselves to criticism are desirous of praise; this 
 <lpsii'e is not only innocent but virtuous, while it is un- 
 debased by artifice, and unpolluted by envy; and of 
 tiixy or artifice those men can never be accused, who,^ 
 already enjoying all the honours and profits of their 
 profession, are content to stand candidates for public 
 notice, with genius yet unexperienced, and diligence 
 yet unrewarded; who, without any hope of increasing 
 their own reputation or interest, expose their names 
 and their works, only that they may furnish an oppor- 
 tunity of appearance to the young, the diffident, and 
 the neglected. The purpose of this exhibition is not 
 to enrich the artist, but to advance the art; the emi- 
 nent are not flattered with preference, nor the obscure 
 insulted with contempt ; whoever hopes to deserve
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. gl 
 
 public favour, is here invited to display his merit. 
 Of the price put upon this exhibition, some account 
 may be demanded. Whoever sets his works to be 
 shewn, naturally desires a multitude of spectators; 
 but his desire defeats its own end, when spectators 
 assemble in such numbers as to obstruct one another. 
 
 " Though we are far from wishing to diminish the 
 pleasures, or depreciate the sentiments of any class 
 of the community, we know, however, what every one 
 knows, that all cannot be judges or purchasers of 
 works of art. Yet we have already found by expe- 
 rience, that all are desirous to see an exhibition. 
 When the terms of admission were low, the room was 
 thronged with such multitudes, as made access dan- 
 gerous, and frightened away those whose approbation 
 was most desired. 
 
 " Yet because it is seldom believed that money is 
 got but for the love of money, we shall tell the use 
 which we intend to make of our expected profits. 
 Many artists of great abilities are unable to sell their 
 works for their due price: — to remove this incon- 
 venience, an annual sale will be appointed, to Avhich 
 every man may send his works, and them, if he will, 
 without his name. Those works will be reviewed by 
 the committee that conduct the exhibition ; a price will 
 be secretly set on every piece, and registered by the 
 secretary ; if the piece exposed is sold for more, the 
 whole price shall be the artist's ; but if the purchasers 
 value it at less than the committee, the artist shall be 
 paid the deficiency from the profits of the exhibi- 
 tion." 
 
 In 1762, the famous affair of the Cock-lane Ghost 
 took place, in which Johnson acted rather a promi- 
 nent part. Mr. Reynolds, however, had too little 
 taste for those wanderings of the imagination to join in 
 the absurdity which gave credence to this juggling 
 business ; he therefore escaped that severity of cen- 
 sure which very justly fell upon Johnson and several 
 others. 
 
 H
 
 53 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 At lliis time lie was particularly noticed by the pen 
 of Sterne, in the sixth volume of his Tristram 
 Shandy, just then published; and there too is noticed 
 that want of stability in the colours of Sir Joshua, 
 which has, in many instances, been very severely, and 
 ometimes even unjustly, adverted to. He says, " I 
 would not answer for my aunt Dinah, was she alive, 
 — faith scarce for her picture — were it but painted by 
 Keynolds — but if 1 go on with my drawing, after 
 naming tliat son of Apollo, I'll be shot.'' And agaiu, 
 in describing the attitude of Corj)oral Trim, in read- 
 ing the Sermon, he says, " Not Reynolds, great and 
 graceful as he is, could have conceived one superior." 
 
 In the same year Reynolds produced the so much 
 celebrated picture of Garrick between Tragedy and 
 Comedy, to Avhich there could not be a much higher 
 compliment paid than in the opening of the Epilogue 
 to the " Brothers/' by Cumberland. 
 
 " "Who but hath seen the celebrated strife, 
 Where Reynolds calls the canvas into life, 
 And 'twixt the Tragic and the Comic muse, 
 Courted of both, and dubious which to choose, 
 Til' immortal actor stands." 
 
 For. this picture the Earl of Halifax paid three hun- 
 dred guineas: but it has since been purchased, by 
 Mr. Angerstein, at two hundred and fifty. 
 
 Mr. Garrick's intimacy with Mr. Reynolds had 
 been now formed for some years, and it continued 
 until the close of the former's life; of course I had 
 many opportunities of observing that great actor, and 
 of acquiring many anecdotes about him. 
 
 To give to all these their due chronological order, 
 wouid be an unnecessary precision ; I shall, therefore, 
 insert some of them in the present place, from their 
 being particularly connected with tiie subject of this 
 biography. 
 
 David Garrick sat many times to Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds for different portraits. At one of those sittings 
 he gave a very lively account of his having sat once
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 53 
 
 for his portrait to an indifferent painter, whom he 
 wantonly teazed; for when the artist liad worked on 
 the face till he had drawn it very correctly, as he saw 
 it at the time, Garrick caught an opportunity, wliilst 
 the painter was not looking at him, totally to change 
 his countenance and expression, when the poor painter 
 patiently worked on to alter the picture and make it 
 like what he then saw; and when Garrick perceived 
 that it was thus altered, he seized another opportunity, 
 and changed his countenance to a third character, 
 which, when the poor tantalized artist perceived, he, 
 in a great rage, threw down his pallet and pencils on 
 the floor, saying he helieved he was painting from the 
 devil, and would do no more to the picture. 
 
 As a contrast to the foregoing anecdote of Garrick, 
 I remember that Mrs. Yates, the famous tragedian, 
 when she sat for her portrait to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 said to him, " I always endeavour to keep the same 
 expression and countenance when 1 sit to you. Sir 
 Joshua; and, therefore, 1 generally direct my thouglits 
 to one and the same subject.'^ 
 
 Once, when the Bisiiop of St. Asaph was sitting to 
 Sir Joshua, the conversation turning on Garrick, the 
 Bishop asked him, how it was that Garrick had not 
 been able to make any excellent players with all his 
 instructions ? and Sir Joshua's answer was, — " Part- 
 ly because they all imitate him, and then it became 
 impossible : as this was like a man's resolving to go 
 always behind another; and whilst this resolution 
 lasts, it renders it impossible he should ever be on a 
 par with him.'' 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds had it long in contemplation 
 to paint a picture of an extensive composition, pur- 
 posely to display the various powers of David Garrick 
 as an actor. The principal figure in the front was to 
 have been a full length of Garrick, in his own proper 
 habit, in the action of speaking a prologue, surrounded 
 by groups of figures representing him in all the Jif 
 ferent characters, by personifying which he had gain 
 ed fame on the stage.
 
 5Jj MEMOIRS OF 
 
 This scheme Sir Joshua described to Garrick, at 
 the lime he was painting his portrait ; and Garrick 
 expressed great pleasure when he heard it, and seem- 
 ed to enjoy the idea prodigiously; saying, " That 
 will be tiie very thing I desire : the only way, by 
 G , that 1 can be handed down to posterity." 
 
 It is much to be regretted, however, that this pic- 
 ture was never begun, as, from such a hand as Sir 
 Joshua's, the work would have been invaluable, sup- 
 posing it even to have been left in an uniinished state. 
 But we may conclude, that Sir Joshua, on mature con- 
 sideration, foresaw that tlie subject was not eminently 
 calculated to make a good composition for a painting. 
 
 On Sunday mornings, there was always a kind of 
 public levee at Mr. Garrick's house, wliere, at one 
 time or other, all the most illustrious characters of the 
 kingdom might be seen. On one of those public 
 
 mornings, Mr. B W , an eminent painter, 
 
 paid a visit to Mr. Garrick, and took in his hand his 
 little daughter, telling lier, before hand, that he would 
 carry her to see the greatest stage player in the world. 
 When they were in the room, and in the midst of this 
 splendid company, the child ran up to her father, and 
 speaking with a voice sufiBciently audible to be heard 
 by every one there, said " Father, father, be all these 
 folks that I see here stage- players ?" Her father 
 was not a little disconcerted at the child's abrupt 
 speech. 
 
 When Garrick once complained to Sir Joshua of 
 the daily sarcasms with M'hich he was annoyed from 
 Foote, the comedian. Sir Joshua answered, that 
 Foote, in so doing, gave the strongest proofs possible 
 of sensibly feeling his own inferiority; as it was al- 
 ways the lesser man who condescended to become 
 malignant and abusive. 
 
 Dr. Mudge, when in Garrick's company at Mount 
 Edgecumbe, heard him say, that his regard for his 
 mother's peace and happiness prevented him from ap- 
 pearing on the stage till after her death, and that he 
 imagined this circumstance greatly contributed to the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 55 
 
 vast success be had met with ; for being then turned of 
 thirty, his judgement was more mature, and occasion- 
 ed his avoiding many errors which lie might have 
 run into had he begun earlier in life. 
 
 I also remember to have heard old Dr. Chauncey 
 say, at Sir Joshua's table, that he saw Garrick at his 
 first appearance on the stage in Goodman's-iields, at 
 which time he was infinitely more excellent, more 
 purely natural than afterwards, when he had acquired 
 many stage tricks and bad habits. 
 
 I shall here close these anecdotes with a curious 
 though rather too severe a criticism on the manner of 
 Garrick's performing the part of King Richard tlie 
 Third. On the morning after Garrick had appeared 
 in that part. Gibbon the historian called on Sir Joshua, 
 when he mentioned his having been at the play on the 
 preceding evening, and immediately began to criticise 
 Garrick's manner of acting that character. He said 
 lie thought that he gave it, in the first scenes, a mean, 
 creeping, vulgar air, totally failing in the impression 
 of a prince; and in the latter part so very different a 
 cast, that it did not seem to be the same person^ and 
 therefore not in harmony as a whole. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1763, Mr. Reynolds 
 having impaired his health by incessant application to 
 his profession, again paid a visit to his native country, 
 accompanied by his friend Dr. Johnson, with whom 
 he was entertained at the seats of several noblemen 
 and gentlemen in the west of England. 
 
 During their stay at Plymouth, they were the 
 guests of Dr. John Mudge^ who was then a surgeon, 
 and afterwards an eminent physician of that town; a 
 man whose virtues and various powers of mind, if 
 described, would occupy a much larger space than t 
 shall presume to give them in this short Memoir. 
 
 Mr. Reynolds's friendship for the whole family, 
 and the interest he took in whatever related to them, 
 were of the liveliest kind. This acquaintance with 
 the Mudges, both father and son, ought to be reckon- 
 ed amongst the earliest of his literary connections.
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Yet though 1 refrain to give way to my own grate- 
 ful and friendly feelings towards this family. I hope I 
 shall he excused in recording the testimonies of *wo 
 such good judges of human nature, as Burke and 
 Johnson, upon tliis very suhject. 
 
 Jn a letter which tiie former wrote to Mr. Malone, 
 in the year 1797? aud which I here quote from its in- 
 timate connection with the suhject of my biography, 
 he speaks of how much Sir Joshua '' owed to the 
 writings and conversation of Johnson;" adding, that 
 *' nothing shows more the greatness of Sir Joshua's 
 parts, than his taking advantage of both, and making 
 some application of them to his profession; Aviien 
 Johnson neither understood, nor desired to under- 
 stand, any thing of painting, and had no distinct idea 
 of its nomenclature, even in those parts which had 
 got most into use in common life. But though John- 
 son had done much to enlarge and strengthen his 
 Jiabit of thinking, Sir Joshua did not owe his first 
 rudiments of speculation to him. He has always told 
 me, that he owed his first disposition to generalize, 
 and to view things in the abstract, to old Mr. Mudge, 
 Prebendary of Exeter, and father to the celebrated 
 mechanic of that name. I have myself,"' adds Mr. 
 Burke, '^ seen Mr. Mudge the clergyman at Sir 
 Joshua's house. He was a learned and veneitable old 
 man ; and, as I thought, very much conversant in the 
 Platonic philosophy, and very fond of that method of 
 philosophizing. He had been originally a dissenting 
 minister ; a description which at that time bred very 
 considerable men, both among those who adhered to 
 it, and those who left it. He had entirely cured him- 
 self of the unpleasant narrowness which in the early 
 part of his life had distinguished those gentlemen, and 
 was perfectly free from the ten times more dangerous 
 enlargement wliich has been, since then, their general 
 characteristic. Sir Joshua Reynolds had always a 
 great love for the whole of that family, and took a 
 "Tcat interest in whatever related to them."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 57 
 
 In addition to this, I shall insert from Ibe periodi- 
 cal obituary of the day, a bigb eulogy bestowed upon 
 the same individual by Johnson himself, on his demise 
 in the year 1769. He speaks of him as " the Rever- 
 end Mr. Zacariah Mudge, prebentary of Exeter, and 
 vicar of St. Andrews in Plymouth; a man equally 
 eminent for his virtues and abilities, and at once be- 
 loved as a companion, and reverenced as a pastor. 
 He had that general curiosity to which no kind of 
 knowledge is indifferent or superfluous, and tliat gen- 
 eral benevolence by which no order of men is despised 
 or nated. 
 
 " His principles, both of thought and action, were 
 great and comprehensive. By a solicitous examina- 
 tion of objections, and judicious comparison of oppo- 
 site arguments, he attained what inquiry never gives 
 but to industry and perspicuity, a firm and unshaken 
 settlement of conviction. But his firmness was with- 
 out asperity: for knowing with how much difficulty 
 truth w^as sometimes found, he did not wonder that 
 many missed it. 
 
 ^' The general course of his life was determined ])y 
 his profession; he studied the sacred volumes in tlie 
 original languages ; with what diligence and success, 
 his Notes upon the Psalms give sufficient evidence. 
 He once endeavoured to add the knowledge of Arabic 
 to that of Hebrew ; but finding his thoughts too much 
 diverted from other studies, after some time desisted 
 from his purpose. 
 
 " His discharge of parochial duties was exemplary. 
 How his sermons were composed, may be learned 
 from the excellent volume which he has given to the 
 public: but how they were delivered, can be known 
 only to those who heard them; for as he appeared in 
 the pulpit, words will not easily describe him. His 
 delivery, though unconstrained was not negligent, and 
 though forcible was not turbulent; disdaining anxious 
 nicety of emphasis and laboured artifice of action, it 
 captivated tlie hearer by its natural dignity, it roused 
 the sluggish and fixed the volatile, and detained ,the
 
 as MEMOIRS OF 
 
 miiitl upon the subject without directing it to the 
 speaker. 
 
 " Tlie grandeur and solemnity of the preacher did 
 not intrude upon his general behaviour; at the table of 
 his friends he was a companion, communicative and 
 attentive, of unaifected manners, of manly cheerful- 
 ness, willing to please, and easy to be pleased. His ac- 
 quaintance was universally solicited, and his presence 
 obstructed no enjoyment which religion did not forbid. 
 Though studious he was popular ; though inflexible 
 he was candid ; and though metaphysical yet or- 
 thodox.*' 
 
 Such was the obituary testimony of Johnson to the 
 memory of a man, equally and deservedly dear both 
 to himself and to Sir Joshua Reynolds ! 
 
 In addition to this, I have myself heard Sir Joshua 
 declare, that the elder Mr. Mudge was, in his opinion, 
 the wisest man he had ever met with in his life ; and 
 so great an admirer was he of the literary works of 
 Mr. Mudge, that he liad intended to have re-publish- 
 ed his Sermons, which were out of print : and also to 
 have written a sketch of his life and character. — Pity 
 it was not done by one who could have done it so 
 well ! 
 
 Some of the occurrences, which took place during 
 this tour, have been already narrated by Mr. Boswell, 
 who informs us, that Sir Joshua and his friend were 
 not only shewn every thing relative to the Dock-yard 
 and other parts of the naval establishment at Ply- 
 mouth, with a degree of sedulous and polite attention 
 on the part of the commissioner, but that the same 
 officer also accommodated them with his yacht for the 
 purpose of a marine trip to the Eddystone light- 
 house, which, however, they were prevented examin- 
 ing with accuracy, from the tempestuous state of the 
 weather. 
 
 It was about this time I first saw Sir Joshua ; but 
 I had seen several of his works which were in Ply- 
 mouth, (for at that time I had never been out of the 
 country.) and those pictures filled me with wonder
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ffg 
 
 R,!ul delight, although I was then very young; inso- 
 much, that I rememher when Reynolds was pointed 
 out to me at a public meeting, where a great crowd 
 were assembled, I got as near to him as I could from 
 the pressure of the people, to touch the skirt of his 
 coat, which I did with great satisfaction to my mind. 
 
 During their stay at Plymouth, Dr. Mudge, in con- 
 versation with Johnson, mentioned a circumstance of 
 a most curious mode of trial, to Avhich a friend of 
 his, a man of undoubted veracity, ~ had been an eye 
 witness : Dr. Johnson desired to have it related to 
 him by the person who saw it; on which the gentle»- 
 luan being introduced to the Doctor, lie repeated the 
 circumstances, which were these : — 
 
 In some part of the East Indies, a man, one of the 
 natives, was suspected of murder, and the mode taken 
 to prove either his guilt or innocence was this. The 
 suspected criminal was brought guarded, and his 
 hands bound, to a public place prepared for the trial, 
 where was a large lire, over which was a cauldron of 
 melted lead : into this vessel of melted lead he was 
 forced to dip his naked hand, which, if he was inno- 
 cent of the supposed crime, it was concluded, would 
 receive no injury from the burning metal ; but, if 
 guilty, would be destroyed. All the officers of the 
 English man-of-war then in the harbour, and of which 
 the gentleman who related it was the purser, were 
 present at this extraordinary manner of trial, and tlie 
 gentleman averred that he distinctly saw the prisoner 
 dip his hand into the melted lead, taking up some in 
 his palm, and leisurely spilling it on the ground at his 
 feet, without any apparent injury, or even pain to his 
 hand. One of the English officers present had the 
 curiosity to put a small stick, which he held in his 
 liand, into the cauldron, and on taking it out again, 
 found the part which had been immersed in the metal 
 nearly consumed. 
 
 Dr. Johnson heard the narrative with much atten- 
 tion, and declar.ed he would most willingly take a 
 
 T
 
 (50 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 voyage to the East Indies, if lie could be insured to be 
 Avitiiess to such a sight. 
 
 It' there Avas any jugii;ling in this affair, it cannot 
 now be detected ; but the person who saw it was 
 unable to account for it, and the credulity of Ur. 
 Johnson made him a very fit man to relate this story 
 to. 
 
 Sir Joshua having completed his pleasant trip, and 
 succeeded, in a great measure, in the restoration of his 
 health, he returned to the metropolis and to the prac- 
 tice of liis art ; indeed, the true enjoyment of a profes- 
 sion Sir Josluia possessed, in as great a degree, 
 perhaps, as any man ever did ; he was never so happy 
 as in those hours which he passed in iiis painting 
 room. He has often confessed, that when he has com- 
 ])lied with the invitations of the nobility to spend a 
 i'ew days of relaxation with them at their country 
 residences, though every luxury was afforded which 
 the heart could desire, yet he always returned home 
 like oi\e who had been kept so long without his 
 natural food. 
 
 Sir Joshua used to say, that " he will never make 
 a painter who looks for the Sunday with pleasure as 
 an idle day.'' 
 
 None of his hours were ever spent in idleness, or 
 lost in dissipation ; and on those evenings which he 
 spent at home, after his daily occupation was past, he 
 employed himself in looking over, and studying from, 
 the prints of the old masters, of which he had pro- 
 cured a fine collection. 
 
 He was, however, happy in the friendly society of 
 a few amiable individuals, with whom his evenings 
 were sometime* spent ; and amongst those the Cotter- 
 ells were still numbered, at whose house Johnson and 
 be iiad been frequent visitors. 
 
 In a letter from Johnson to Barrett!, written in 
 Decembei', after the return of the two friends to the 
 metropolis, the former says, " Reynolds still con- 
 tinues to increase in reputation and riches. Miss 
 Cottcrell is stiU with Mrs. Porter. Miss Charlotte is
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 61 
 
 maiTJed to Dean Lewis, and lias three children." 
 And in a subsequent letter, he adds, " Miss Cotterell 
 still contiuues to cling to Mrs. Porter. Mr. Reynolds 
 gels 6000 a-year." 
 
 Mr. Reynold's practice was now, indeed, so great, 
 that he found it necessary to have pupils to assist in 
 the minor parts of his profession, of which number the 
 first after Marchi was Mr. Beech a native of Dorset- 
 shire, and soon after Mr. Berridge was placed under 
 his tuition; this gentleman was born in Lincolnshire: 
 and his fourth pupil was Mr. Hugh Barron, whose 
 early promise and final failure may serve as a warn- 
 ing to others. This person was a native of the me- 
 tropolis, and born somewhere near Soho, in which 
 vicinity his father had an official situation in the 
 Westminster Dispensary, as apothecary to that es- 
 tablishment. He was placed with Mr. Reynolds, 
 with whom he continued several years ; and, on 
 leaving him, attempted his profession as a portrait 
 painter in the capital : but the desire of improving 
 himself in the art induced him to visit Italy in 177^? 
 to which country, like Sir Joshua, he took the mari- 
 time route, and like him called at Lisbon on his way. 
 
 He made some stay there, practising his art, being 
 much patronized by the English factory both there 
 and at Oporto, and then proceeded on his voyage : he 
 seems to have been long a sojourner at the seat of the 
 arts, principally at Rome and at Genoa, returning to 
 England not until 1778. His first residence in Lon- 
 don was in his old master's immediate neighbourhood, 
 but he did not remain there long; and is since dead, 
 (in 1791,) at the age of middle life. This person was 
 in some degree an instance of misapplied talents ; for 
 though as Mr. Edwards records, he was the best 
 amateur performer of his day on the violin, yet he 
 was never much esteemed as a painter, notwithstand- 
 ing the early promise which he gave of graphic ex- 
 cellence whilst a youth, at a drawing-school, under 
 the tuition of Fournier, som^ time about the year 
 176*.
 
 63 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 His younger brotlier, William, about the year 1775^ 
 produced a view ot" Wanstead House, which was en- 
 graved by Picot, and dedicated to Sir Joshua; fur- 
 ther particulars of hiin will be found in Edwards. 
 
 At his hours of leisure Mr. Reynolds considered it 
 as necessary to his mental improvement, as well as to 
 bis professional interest, to mix in learned and con- 
 vivial society ; and about this time, in order not only 
 to enjoy it with freedom, but also more particularly 
 with the kind intention of gratifying his venerable 
 friend, he became the proposer, and with the assist- 
 ance of Johnson was the founder, of that clul), still in 
 existence, and for many years tlenominated the '^ Lit- 
 erary Cliib.^* This, liowever, was a title which they 
 did not arrogate to themselves ; a tiling, indeed, in 
 which Sir Joshua would have been the last person to 
 join : but as I was not then in the metropolis myself, 
 and feel so anxious for the literary fame of him whose 
 friendship did me so much honour, as to wish to guard 
 him against the imputation of affecting that which he 
 really did possess, though some envious persons have 
 denied it, (I allude to his own literary merit,) I con- 
 sider myself as warranted in going to some length on 
 the subject, from the authority of contemporary biog- 
 raphers. 
 
 Whilst writing the life too of the founder of the 
 club, it will not be considered as out of place briily to 
 notice the original design which, as first declared at 
 its institution, in February, 1764, was to confine the 
 club to twelve members, consisting of Sir Joshua, 
 then only Mr. Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Drs. Gold- 
 smith, Nugent, and Percy afterwards Bishop of Dro- 
 more. Sir Robert Chambers and Sir John Hawkins, 
 with Messrs. Burke, Langton, Chamier, Dyer, and 
 tiie Honourable Topham Beauclerk. 
 
 These were thus so judiciously selected, as Mr. 
 Malone observes, and were men of such talents and 
 so well known to each other, that any two of them, if 
 they should not happen to be joined by any more, 
 might be good company for each other. Such was the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 63 
 
 beginning of a society which has now existed for half 
 a century^ boasting of having had enrolled, on its list 
 of memhei's, many of tlie most celebrated characters 
 of the last century. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, though he does not expressly 
 mention Sir Joshua as the founder, has, notwithstand- 
 ing, entered more into detail on this subject than either 
 Mr. Boswell or Mr. Malone ; he observes, speaking 
 of Dr. Johnson in the preceding year, (1763,) that he 
 had now considerably extended the circle of his ac- 
 quaintance, and had added to the number of liis 
 friends sundry persons of distinguisiied eminence ; 
 amongst whom he enumerates Sir Joshua and some 
 others of the original members, and he then enters 
 more minutely into those principles wiiich must have 
 weighed much with the founder when he first thought 
 of the plan : for he adds, that from Johnson's delight 
 in convivial meetings, his love of conversation, and his 
 sensible feeling of the attractions of a tavern, it was 
 but natural that he siiould wish for frequent opportu- 
 nities of indulging them in a way tliat would free him 
 from domestic restraint, from the observance of hours, 
 and from a conformity to family regulations. '' A 
 tavern was the place for these enjoyments, and a 
 weekly club was instituted for his gratification, and 
 the mutual entertainment and delight of its several 
 members. The first movers in tliis association were 
 Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds; the place of meet- 
 ing was the Turk's Head in Grerard-street; the day, 
 Monday in every week; and the hour of assembling, 
 seven in the evening. Our evening toast,"' continues 
 Sir John, " was esio ppvpetiia. A lady, distinguished 
 by her beauty and taste for literature, (Mrs. Mon- 
 tague,) invited us two successive years to a dinner ai, 
 her house ; curiosity was her motive, and possibly a 
 desire of intermingling with our conversation the 
 charm of her own. She affected to consider us as a 
 set of literary men, and perhaps gave the first occasion 
 for distinguishing the society by the name of the Lit-
 
 (5J, MEMOIRS OF 
 
 erarif Club, a distinctiou which it never assumed to 
 itself." 
 
 Having thus slightly noticed what may be consider- 
 ed as an event riot wholly unimportant in the life of 
 Sir Joshua, I may further add of this year, as con- 
 nected with the art, that in the mouth of April was 
 first opened the exhibition of Painting, Sculpture, and 
 Architecture, at the Great Room in Spring Gardens. 
 This took place from a union of all the artists of 
 the metropolis in 1760, and was followed by a royal 
 charter in the succeeding year. 
 
 It may not be foreign to my purpose here, for the 
 information of general readers, to take some notice of 
 the royal charter of incorporation of this establishment, 
 particularly as it has been entirely passed over by 
 former biographers. 
 
 This charter was then given to the " Society of 
 Artists of Great Britain," to consist of a president, 
 vice president, directors, and fellows, to be for ever 
 after a body corporate, with perpetual succession, and 
 with power to enjoy lands in perpetuity, either by 
 purchase or devise, to the yearly value of 1000/. not- 
 withstanding the statute of mortmain. Their arms, or 
 corporation seal, consisting of azure, a brush, a 
 cbissel, and a pair of compasses, composed fretty, or; 
 over these, in chief, a regal crown proper. This coat 
 had two supporters : on the dexter side, Britannia ; on 
 the sinister, Concord. The crest was on a wreath, 
 an oak branch, and a palm branch in sal tire, and in 
 the centre of these, a chaplet of laurel. This common 
 seal too, a thing very unusual in heraldic grants, they 
 had liberty to break, alter, or change the same, from 
 time to time, as they thought fit. 
 
 It was further stipulated, that all the officers, to- 
 gether with the directors, should be either painters^ 
 sculptors, architects, or engravers, by profession. 
 
 The charter further authorized them to hold meet- 
 ings for the better improvement of those arts, in Lon- 
 don, or within ten miles thereof, as often as it might 
 be necessary.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 6& 
 
 Mr. Lambert was the first president, and Mr. Haj'- 
 man his vice ; Messrs Dalton and Newton were the 
 first treasurer and secretary ; the other members of the 
 direction were Sir William Chambers, Messrs, Mac 
 Ardell, Barret, Collins, Cotes, Grrignion, (rwyn, 
 Hone, Meyer, Moser, Payne, Penny, Rooker, Sand- 
 by, Seaton, Tyler, Wall, Wilson, Wilton, and Yeo. 
 
 As the events which gave rise to this establishment 
 are intimately connected with the present Royal 
 Academy in its progress and foundation, I cannot 
 give a better view of them, in part, than is aifarded by 
 the slight sketch drawn up in the year I766, by Mr. 
 John &wyn, an ingenious arcliitectural writer, in his 
 ^^ London and Westminster Improved." 
 
 The passage has, indeed, been quoted before, but 
 will not be improper in this place. He observes, that, 
 ^* Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfrey Kneller kept up 
 the national passion with great success; and some 
 public works, which required decorations, gave op- 
 portunity to Sir James Thornhill and others, to shew, 
 that historical painting, if properly encouraged, was a 
 field in which the British nation might engage with 
 their competitors, not without advantage ; but notwith- 
 standing this advancement of the art of painting, and 
 the number of ingenious professors who continually ad- 
 vanced in every branch, neither painting, nor pro- 
 fessors of painting, were known, distinguished, or en- 
 couraged. The few, indeed, who had taste and dis- 
 cernment, sought for these ingenious men, and pur- 
 chased their works ; but the public knew them not, 
 nor did they know each other : they had no society or 
 intercourse with their fellow artists, consequently had 
 very little to say in each other's recommendation, in 
 the different branches of painting; and he who had 
 the greatest acquaintance, wiiatevcr were his abilities, 
 was sure to get the most money. However, the natural 
 good sense and ingenuity of the British nation con- 
 tinued still to furnish very able masters ; and these, at 
 length, collected their scattered and dispersed breth- 
 ren, and formed a little society, who wisely consider-
 
 HO MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ing their mutual interest, !)y a voluntary subscription 
 among themselves, established an academy in St. 
 Marti n's-lane. 
 
 The establishment of the Foundling Hospital, 
 wliich was a national concern, and attracted the notice 
 of the public in a very particular manner, gave an 
 opportunity, when finislied, for displaying a scene 
 entirely new to this nation. Tlie Hospital was just in 
 its infancy, and elegant decorations, and every possi- 
 ble means that could allure or draw the attention of the 
 public towards its su{)port and maintenance, were 
 found necessary ; l)ut the expense of such ornaments 
 could not be afforded by a ciiarity whose utmost 
 abilities were demanded for the succour and support 
 of deserted perishing infants. In order to contribute 
 to the support of this useful establishment, and to shew 
 at once that ingenuity and compassion for the dis- 
 tresses of human nature are usually found to reside in ■ 
 the same person, the most considerable artists in Great 
 Britain nobly and generously united in bestowing a 
 great number of excellent performances, in painting 
 and sculpture, which embellished the Hospital, en- 
 tertained the public, and, at the same time convinced 
 the world that painting was arrived to a degree of 
 perfection in this kingdom, of which, until this era, 
 they had no conception. The Governors of the Hos- 
 pital, convinced of the use and benefit which accrued 
 to tiie charity from these truly valuable donations, and 
 desirous of improving a connection so very advantage- 
 ous to them, encouraged the several con tril)u tors, and 
 also the whole body of those who professed the polite 
 arts, to have an annual meeting at the Hospital, on 
 the fifth of November : these meetings drew together 
 the most ingenious artists from every quarter, and at 
 one of them it was proposed to the whole body, to 
 have an annual exhibition of such performances as 
 should be judged worthy the notice of the public. 
 
 A proposal so very advantageous to merit of every 
 kind, could not fail of being received with applause, 
 and was unanimously agreed to. In consequence of
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 67 
 
 tliis resolution, application was made to the Society 
 of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, who, taking it 
 into consideration, rightly judged, that an exliihition 
 of this nature could not he carried into execution with 
 so much propriety as under their patronage ; they 
 complied, therefore, willingly, witli this request, aud, 
 in the year I76O, the first exhibition of the artists of 
 Great Britain was made, and another the year follow- 
 ing; but as every member of the Society was at liberty 
 to distribute what number of tickets for admittance he 
 thought fit, that which was intended only as a polite 
 entertainment and rational amusement for the public, 
 became a scene of tumult and disorder; and to such a 
 height was tlie rage of visiting the exhibition carried, 
 that, when the members themselves liad satisfied their 
 own curiosity, the room was crowded, during the 
 hours allotted foi- the exhibition, with menial servants 
 and their acquaintance. This prostitution of the polite 
 arts, undoubtedly became extremely disagreeable to 
 the professors themselves, who heard, alike, with 
 indignation, their works censured or approved by 
 kitchen-maids aud stable-boys; but the cause of the 
 final separation, (for this abuse might have been 
 remedied,) of the artists of Great Britain from the 
 Society, was tliis : it had been, and still is, usual for 
 the Society to give premiums for historical and land- 
 scape painting; these rewards were usually adjudged 
 among the competitors some little time before tlie ex- 
 hibition began, and as those who gained t!ie premiums 
 were obliged to leave their pictures a limited time with 
 the Society, they were, of course, sure to be iu the 
 exhibition. The great inconvenience of this method of 
 proceeding was soon discovered by several of the most 
 eminent painters, whose reputations were already so 
 eminently established as to prevent their becoming 
 candidates for a trifling premium; these, therefore, as 
 their characters were so nearly concerned, very justly 
 objected to the continuation of this custom, for the fol- 
 lowing obvious reason : it was generally known that 
 the Society had determined premiums for several pic- 
 
 3
 
 68 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tares, and it 'ivas natural (Mioiigli for persons who 
 knew nothing of the matter to inquire, upon entering 
 the room, which of the pieces, among that profusion of 
 art, were those that had ohtained tlie premium? and, 
 being satisfied in this particular, they very innocently 
 concluded, for want of better judgment, that these had 
 obtained the prize from all the rest, and, consequently, 
 were tlie best pictures. Had it been possible to have 
 confined this injurious decision to the vulgar specta- 
 tors, it would have been a tiling of no consequence ; 
 but, unfortunately for the arts, many in a much higher 
 sphere of life were liable to be led away by the same 
 opinion ; and tlierefore, as the society would not give 
 up the point, a, separation ensued, and every succeed- 
 ing exhibition has been made at the room in Spring 
 Gardens. The prodigious encouragement given to it, 
 and the applause bestowed on the several perform- 
 ances, by persons of the greatest taste and distinction, 
 evidently shew what a prodigious progress has been 
 made in the arts, as well as what great expectations 
 may be formed of what will probably be done by con- 
 curring incitements of applause and emulation, and 
 the effects of society and concord. The success of the 
 exhibition, and the harmony which subsisted among 
 the exhibitors, naturally led them to the thoughts of 
 soliciting an establishment, and forming themselves 
 into a body : in consequence of which solicitation, his 
 Majesty was most graciously pleased to grant them 
 his Royal Charter, incorporating tliem by the name of 
 the Society of Artists of Great Britain ; which charter 
 bears date the 2Gth day of January, 1765, and is the 
 one of which I have given the preceding sketch. 
 
 In the summer of this year a violent and very dan- 
 gerous illness had attacked Mr. Reynolds, which had 
 nearly deprived his associates of one of the best of 
 frienils, and the world of one of its brightest orna- 
 ments. 
 
 His illness, however, was but of short duration, and 
 his recovery was cheered by the following affectionate
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 69 
 
 letter from Dr. Johnson^ then on a visit in North- 
 amptonshire : 
 
 <^ TO JOSHUA REYNOLDS, ESQ. IN LEICESTER-FIE1.DS, 
 LONDON. 
 
 ^^ DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I (lid not hear of your sickness, till I heard, 
 likewise of your recovery, and therefore escaped that 
 part of your pain which every man must feel to whom 
 you arc known as you are known to me. Having had 
 no particular account of your disorder, 1 know not in 
 what state it has left you. If the amusement of my 
 company can exhilarate the languor of a slow recovery, 
 I will not delay a day to come to you ; for I know 
 not how I can so effectually promote my own pleasure, 
 as by pleasing you, or my own interest as by pre- 
 serving you ; in whom, if I should lose you, I should 
 lose almost the only man whom I call a friend. Pray 
 let me hear of you from yourself, or from dear Miss 
 Reynolds. Make my compliments to Mr. Mudge. 
 
 ^^ I am, dear Sir, 
 
 " Your most affectionate, 
 " Most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson. 
 
 •• At the Rev. Mr. Percy's, at Easton-Maudit, 
 Northamptonshire, (by Castle Ashby) August 19, 
 1761." 
 
 In 1765 Mr. Reynolds exhibited a whole lengtli 
 portrait of Lady Sarah Bunbury, in which she is rep- 
 resented as sacrificing to the Graces. Previous to this 
 he had painted an excellent whole length portrait of 
 Lady Elizabeth Keppel, in the dress she wore as 
 bridemaid to the Queen ; and in the same exhibition 
 he had another portrait of Lady Waldegrave ; of 
 which Mr. Barry, in a letter to Dr. Sleigh, says^
 
 70 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 '^ We have had two exhibitions since I wrote to you; 
 the pictures that struck nie most were Larly Sarah 
 Bunbury saciiticiiis; to the Graces, and Lady Walde- 
 grave ; they arc some of Mr. Reynolds's best works, 
 which is the i^reatcst character they can have." 
 
 It was in this year that Johnson's edition of Shaks- 
 peare made its appearance ; and even for this, the 
 world is much obliged to Sir Joshua Reynolds. Mr. 
 Boswell tells us, that in 1/56 the Doctor had resumed 
 his scheme of giving that work with notes, and had 
 even published proposals, in which he promised that 
 it should be perfected by Christmas, 1/57. but that his 
 habitual indolence had prevented him from pursuing 
 the system of research necessary for such an under- 
 taking. Sir John Hawkins also notices particularly 
 that a Reverend Divine (Churchill) had exhibited 
 him to ridicule in a satirical poem, and revived the 
 remembrance of that engagement to the public, "Avhich 
 by this and other instances of the laxity of his mind, 
 he seemed not inclined to fulfil." 
 
 This was about I76O; but as Hawkins adds, al- 
 though Johnson was insensible to the abuse, yet his 
 friends took the alarm, and by all the arts of per- 
 suasion and reasoning, endeavoured to convince him 
 that his credit was at stake, in having yet made no 
 progress in a work, for Avhich lie had already taken 
 subscriptions. 
 
 The true reason to be given for the delay of this 
 work is, that Johnson had undertaken it at a period 
 when he was obliged to be a literary drudge for his 
 livelihood, and merely on account of the profits it 
 w ould afford him ; hut it never was an object of his 
 desire. In the mean time he became possessed of the 
 pension of three hundred per annum from the bounty 
 of his present majesty, and therefore, that task, which 
 before was undertaken from necessity only, now be- 
 came loathsome to him, and he could not summon up 
 sufficient resolution to go on with the work, although 
 he had engaged himself to the public by having re- 
 ceived subscriptions for it. He indeed confessed that
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 7I 
 
 ^lie was culpable, and made promises, from time to 
 time, that he would commence the necessary course of 
 reading; but even now his best friends trembled for 
 his fulfilment of these promises, nor was it until 8ir 
 Joshua and some others of his friends contrived to en- 
 tangle him in a wager for its performance at a given 
 period, that he could be prevailed to sit down to it in 
 earnest. These friendly exertions, however, had the 
 best effect, and at length, in 1765, the work was pro- 
 duced. 
 
 I make no doubt that Sir Joshua, in order to en- 
 courage Johnson in the business, at the same time of- 
 fered to furnish him with the few notes on the text of 
 Shakspeare, which he faithfully performed ; and as 
 these notes serve to show the clearness of perception 
 and mode of thinking in Reynolds, it is surely re- 
 quisite to insert them in this place. 
 
 In Macbeth, act the first, scene the sixth, in the 
 dialogue between the King and Banquo, is this 
 passage — 
 
 King. " This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 Ban. This Guest of sumn»er, 
 
 The temple-haunting Martlet, does approve, 
 By his lov'd mansion'ry, that the Heav'n's breath 
 Smells wooingly. Here is nojetty tVieze, 
 Buttrice, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird 
 Hath made his pendant bed and procreaot cradle: 
 Where they most breed and haunt, I have ob&erv'd 
 The air is delicate." 
 
 On which Sir Joshua observes, " this short dia- 
 logue between Duncan and Banquo, whilst they are 
 approaching the gates of Macbeth's castle, has always 
 appeared to me a striking instance of what in painting 
 is termed repose. This conversation very naturally 
 turns upon the beauty of its situation, and the pleasant- 
 ness of the air; and Banquo, observing the martlets* 
 nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks, that 
 where those birds most breed and haunt, the air is
 
 73 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 delicate. The subject of quiet and easy conversation^^ 
 gives that repose so necessary to the mind after the 
 tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and per- 
 fectly contrasts the scene of horror that immediately 
 succeeds. It seems as if Shakspeare asked himself, 
 what is a prince likely to say to his attendants on sucli 
 an occasion? Whereas, the modern writers seem, on 
 the contrary, to l)e always searching for new tlioughts, 
 such as would never occur to men in the situation 
 which is represented.— -This also is frequently the 
 practice of Homer, who, from the midst of battles and 
 horrors, relieves and refreshes the mind of the reader, 
 by introducing some quiet rural image, or picture of 
 familiar domestic life." 
 
 On this note, the following observation has been 
 made in a late edition by Mr. Malone, which, al- 
 though expressing a difi'erence of opinion, is yet high- 
 ly complimentary to Sir Joshua. — " It is not without 
 reluctance that I express my dissent from the friend 
 whose name is subscribed to the preceding note; 
 whose observations on all subjects of criticism and 
 taste are so ingenious and just, that posterity may be 
 at a loss to determine, whether his consummate skill 
 and execution in his own art, or his judgment in that 
 and other kindred arts, were superior." 
 
 In Othello, act first, scene third, the Duke says, 
 
 " Let me speak like yourself; and lay a sentence, 
 Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers 
 Into your favour." 
 
 The Duke then proceeds to repeat a variety of 
 proverbs in rhyming distichs; on which Johnson says 
 in a note, " The duke seems to mean, when he says 
 he will speak like Brabantio, that he will speak 
 sententiously." 
 
 But Sir Joshua was of opinion, that Shakspeare 
 here meant something further; for Brabantio was 
 father of Desdemona, and the Duke was endeavour, 
 iug to reconcile him to her maniage with the Moor :
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 73 
 
 he therefore adds, " i. e. let me speak as yourself 
 would speak, were you not too much lieated with 
 passion." 
 
 Perhaps the Poet might have also wished to say, 
 or to imply, " Hear me now say, what you ought to 
 say; let me repeat those wise proverbs of which you 
 are so fond, and whose wisdom ought now to regulate 
 your feelings.'^ 
 
 In the same scene Brabautio says, 
 
 " But words are words; I never yet did hear 
 
 That the bruis'd heart was pierced througii the ear." 
 
 On this passage TVarburton had observed, tliat 
 " the Duke had by sage sentences been exhorting 
 Brabantio to patience, and to forget the grief of his 
 daughter's stolen marriage : to which Brabantio is 
 made very pertinently to reply, to this effect, ' My 
 Lord, 1 apprehend very well the wisdom of your 
 advice: but though you would comfort me, words are 
 bxit words ; and the heart, already bruised, was never 
 pierced, or wounded, through the ear.' It is obvious 
 tiiat the text must be restored thus : 
 
 That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear. 
 
 That is, that the wounds of sorrow were never cured, 
 or a man made heart-whole, merely by the words of 
 consolation.'^ 
 
 Next comes Mr. Stevens, who treats the bruised 
 heart, first surgically, and then applies a black letter 
 plaister to the wound. ^* Pierced may be right. The 
 consequence of a bruise is sometimes matter collected, 
 and this can no way be cured without piercing 01 
 letting it out. Thus in Hamlet : 
 
 " It will but skin and fihn the ulcerous place, 
 While rank corruption, mining all within, 
 Infects unseen."
 
 74 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 Again, » 
 
 " This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, 
 Tiiat inward breaks, and shows no cause without, 
 "NVliy tlie man dies." 
 
 What reference these passages can possibly have to 
 the point in question, I will not pretend to say ; and 
 indeed Mr. Stevens himself seems to have doubted 
 there being a cure for this bruised heart; he therefore 
 adds — '* Our autlior might have had in bis memory 
 the following quaint title of an old book ; i. e. • A 
 .Lytell Treatise called the Dysputacyon, or the Com- 
 playnte of tlie Harte through perced with the lokynge 
 of the eye. Imprinted at London, in Flete-strete, at 
 y* syngne of the Sonne, by AYynkin de Worde.' 
 
 " Again, in a ^ Newe and a Mery Interlude, con- 
 cerning Pleasure and Payne in love, made by Jhoa 
 Heywood : fol. Rastel. 1631. 
 
 " Thorough mjne erys dyrectly to myne harte 
 Percyth his wordys evyn lyke as many sperye." 
 
 After all this display of ingenuity and research. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, with all the calm dignity of a 
 philosophical annotator, expresses himself thus: 
 
 " Shakspeare was continually changing his first 
 expression for another, either stronger or more uncom- 
 mon ; so that very often the reader who has not the 
 same continuity, or succession of ideas, is at a loss for 
 his meaning : many of Shakspeare's uncouth-strained 
 epithets may be explained by going back to the 
 obvious and simple expression, which is most likely to 
 occur to the mind in that state. I can imagine the first 
 mode of expression that occured to the poet was this : 
 
 " The troubled heart was never cured by words." 
 To give it poetical force he altered the phrase : 
 
 " The wounded heart was never reached through the ear."
 
 SIR JOSHUA RlfcYNOLDS. ^5 
 
 Wounded heart he change'l to hroJcen, and that to 
 bruised, as a more common expression. Jieached he 
 altered to touched, and the transition is then easy to 
 pierced: i. e. ihoroa^hXy touched : when the sentiment 
 is brought to this state, the commentator, without this 
 unravelling clue, expounds /?/erc7*H°' heart in its com- 
 mon acceptation icoundiiig the heart, which making in 
 this place nonsense, is corrected to pierced the heart, 
 which is very stiff, and as Polonius says, is a vile 
 phrase.^' This note seems to have been the founda- 
 tion for Malone's subsequent, and more copious, 
 illustration of the passage. 
 
 On a subsequent passage in the same play, in the 
 first scene of the fourth act, where Othello, in his 
 jealousy, exclaims, ^'Nature would not invest herself 
 in such shadowing passion without some instruction. 
 It is no words that shake me thus — pish — noses, 
 ears, and lips — is't possible ! — confess ! handker- 
 chief! — devil!" — [JPa/Zs in a trance^ Warburtou 
 says, that, " The starts and broken reflections in this 
 speech have something very terrible, and show the 
 mind of the speaker to be in inexpressible agonies. 
 But the words we are upon, when set right, have a 
 sublime in them that can never be enough admired. 
 The ridiculous blunder of writing instruction for 
 induction, (for so it should be read,) has, indeed, 
 sunk it into arrant nonsense. Othello is just going to 
 fall into a swoon; and, as is common for people in that 
 circumstance, feels an unusual mist and darkness, ac- 
 companied with horror, coming upon him. This, 
 with vast sublimity of thought, is compared to the 
 reason of the sun's eclipse, at which time the earth 
 becomes shadowed by the induction or bringing over 
 of the moon between it and the sun. This being the 
 allusion, the reasoning stands thus — ^ My nature 
 could never be thus overshadowed, and falling, as it 
 were, into dissolution, for no cause. There must be 
 an induction of something; there must be a real cause. 
 JNly jealousy cannot be merely imaginary. Ideas, 
 Words only, could not shake me thus, and raise all 
 
 J,
 
 76 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 this disorder. My jealousy, therefore, must be ground- 
 ed on matter of fact. — Sliakspeare uses the same 
 word in the same sense in King Richard tlie Tiiird : 
 
 "■ A dire in J action I am witness to." 
 
 " ^Marston seems to have read it thus in some copy, 
 and to allude to it in these words of Fame : 
 
 " Plots ha' jou laid ? inductions dangerous." 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his note upon this passage 
 observes, that, " However ingenious I)r. Warburton's 
 note may be, it is certainly too forced and far-fetched. 
 Othello alludes only to Cassio's dream, which had 
 been invented and told him by lago. When many 
 confused and very interesting ideas pour in upon the 
 mind all at once, and with such rapidity that it has not 
 time to shape or digest them, if it does not relieve 
 itself by tears, (which we know it often does, whether 
 for joy or grief,) it produces stupefaction and fainting. 
 
 *' Othello, in broken sentences, and single words, 
 all of which have a reference to the cause of his 
 jealousy, shews, that all the proofs are present at 
 once to his mind, which so overpowers it, that he falls 
 into a trance, the natural consequence.'' 
 
 In a letter written by Mr. Burke to Barry, then at 
 Rome, in the year 1766, I find some observations of 
 Sir Joshua's recorded, which deserve insertion here. 
 
 He says, " Reynolds was dining with me when the 
 pictures arrived, (meaning those by Barry, painted 
 at Rome, and sent to Mr. Burke,) and I will tell you 
 fairly what he said. 
 
 *' He declared the drawing to be perfectly correct, 
 the expression just and noble: Alexander's attention, 
 and the physician's unaifected n^anner, could not, he 
 said, be better. In regard to the colouring, he said he 
 did not wish it other than it was. That colouring was 
 a knack acquired by habit and experiment ; tliat noth- 
 ing, however, could be more dangerous to a young
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 77 
 
 painter than to indulge himself in that glare of colour 
 which catches the eye, and imposes on the imperfect 
 judgment. I do not at all suppose that his opinion is, 
 that to begin with a wish of excelling in colour, is to 
 begin at the wrong end of the art. 
 
 ^' As our conversation naturally dwelt on painting, 
 I found that Reynolds's expectations of what would 
 be your great object of attention were the works of 
 Michael Angelo, whom he considers as the Homer of 
 Painting : I could find that his own study had been 
 much engrossed by that master, whom he still admires 
 the most. He mentioned, indeed, his having, for some 
 months, confined himself to the Capella Sistina, and 
 begged me to desire you to let us know the eflect it 
 has on you when you give it your attention." &c. 
 
 In this year, also, he painted a very excellent 
 three-quarter portrait of Mrs. Collier, an eminent 
 beauty of that time, and from which there is a mez- 
 zotinto print taken by J. Watson. The face is seen 
 in profile, and has a pensive air, as if contemplating 
 the death of a favourite sparrow, which appears laid 
 on the table before her. The lines under the print are 
 from Catullus : 
 
 Passer raortuus estmese puellse; 
 Passer delitise mese puellse ; 
 Quern plus ilia oculis suis amabat. 
 
 The following couplets were written by a gentle- 
 men of Devonshire, a friend of Sir Joshua's, and who 
 knew the lady, on seeing the picture — 
 
 The torture of a father's breast 
 
 Timanthes to conceal, 
 Anguish too great to be exprest, 
 
 He covered with a veil. * 
 
 The lightning of bright Collier's eyes 
 
 Reynolds despaired to show, 
 That vivid fire his art defies, 
 
 So bade the tear to flow.
 
 78 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Doctor Farmer, of Cambridsje, bad written a most 
 excellent and convincing pamphlet to prove that 
 Shakspeare knew little or nothing of the ancients bnt 
 by translations. Keing in company with Dr. Johnson, 
 iie received from him the foHo\vi!)g compliment npon 
 the work : " Dr. Farmer," said Johnson, '• yon have 
 done that which never was done before; that is, you 
 liavc completely finished a controversy beyond all 
 further doubt." ^* I thank you," answered Dr. Far- 
 mer, " for your flattering opinion of my work, but 
 still there are some critics who will adhere to their 
 old opinions: certain persons that I could name." 
 
 " Ah !" said Johnson, " that may bo true: for the 
 limbs will quiver and move after the soul is gone," 
 
 Dr. Farmer has been long celebrated as a man par- 
 ticularly well informed on the subject of old English 
 literature ; and. as a man of learning, was, therefore, 
 always an acceptable guest with Sir Joshua, He was 
 a native of Leicester, and nearly of the same age with 
 his friend ; and having completed his education at 
 Cambridge, he entered into orders, serving a curacy 
 at a village near that university for many years, 
 whilst a tutor at Emanuel College : but his appoint- 
 ment, in 1767? as a preacher at Whitehall, gave him 
 frequent opportunities of residence in London, where 
 he became a distinguished book collector. 
 
 Dr. Askew, of Queen's-square, was particularly 
 attached to him, and being himself a man of learning, 
 gave him a most hospitable reception at his house, 
 where he first met Sir Joshua, along with several 
 others of the distinguished characters of the day. 
 
 With these two he mixed much in evening society; 
 so much so, indeed, that, when oflered a bishopric by 
 Mr. Pitt, so strong was his wish to associate without 
 restraint, " and to enjoy himself without responsibili- 
 ty," that, as he said a friend, '• one that enjoyed the 
 theatre and the Queen's Head in the evening, would 
 have made but an indifferent bishop." He was there- 
 fore a member of several clubs, particularly one in 
 Essex-street, founded by Johnson: the unincreasible
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. yg 
 
 club at the Queen's Head in Holbovn, where he met 
 Hayley, Romney, Topham, Nevvbery, and others; 
 and the Eumelian club held at the Blenheim Tavern, 
 in Boud-street, of which Sir Joshua himself was a 
 member, together with Messrs. Bos well, \V iudhani, 
 Knight, North, Burney, Seward, and many other 
 highly respectable and much esteemed public char- 
 acters. 
 
 It is not here irrelevant to notice, that it was owing 
 to his good sense and good taste (whilst canon resi- 
 dentiary of St. Paul's) that his colleagues were in- 
 duced to admit the ornaments of sculpture into that 
 cathedral. Had sucIj a man been concerned in the 
 direction of that edifice, when it was proposed to dec- 
 orate it with the eiforts of the graphic art, how easily 
 would a new and permanent source of encouragement 
 have been established? one too, most certainly no less 
 consonant with the principles of tlic Protestant reli- 
 gion than the productions of the sculptor. 
 
 In 1767 the royal patronage was extended to the. 
 artists, and an attempt was made to form an academy, 
 partly arising from the dissentions and animosities 
 which followed the incorporation in 1765 ; for those 
 who were not admitted into the body as incorporated, 
 were so stimulated by jealousy as to resolve to submit 
 no longer to rules and regulations, towards which 
 they had no voice, and they accordingly attempted, 
 for a year or two, to get up an exhibition of their own, 
 but were not very successful in this plan. 
 
 In the regular exhibition of this year, Mr. Rey- 
 nolds did not produce a single eflbrt of his pencil; 
 yet even here be gave a proof that merit will always 
 be exposed to the little attacks of malice ; for Burke 
 observes in a letter to Barry, dated the 26th of April, 
 1767, *' Jones, who used to be poet laureat to the ex- 
 hibition, is prepared to be a severe and almost general 
 satirist upon the exhibitors. His ill behaviour has 
 driven him from all their houses, and he resolves to 
 take revenge in this manner. He has endeavoured to 
 find out what pictures they will exhibit, and upon
 
 80 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 such infovtnation as he has got, has hefore-liand given 
 a poetic description of those pictures which he has not 
 seen. I am told he has gone so far as to abuse Rey- 
 nolds, at guess, as an exhibitor of several pictures, 
 though he docs not put in one.'' 
 
 The reason of his apparent inattention to the 
 exhi!)ition this year, is afterwards explained by 
 Burke, saving, ^* The exhibition will be opened to- 
 morrow. Reynolds, though he has, I think, some 
 better portraits than he had ever before painted, does 
 not think mere heads sufficient, and having no piece of 
 fancy finished, sends in nothing this time." 
 
 In a subsequent letter from the same pen, in August, 
 we find, " As to Reynolds, he is perfectly well, and 
 still keeps that superiority over the rest, which he al- 
 ways had from his genius, sense, and morals.'' 
 
 I may mention in this place, that Mr. Barry was a 
 pupil of Mr. Reynolds some time before the year 
 1767> being then also a student at the academy in St. 
 Martin's-lane : his early initiation into the art having 
 commenced at Shipley's drawing- school, and been 
 continued in the gallery of the Duke of Richmond, so 
 nobly and generously established for the furtherance 
 of taste, and the developement of genius. 
 
 It is recorded of him, however, that his early ex- 
 cellence, or rather the praises bestowed on it, together 
 with the premiums awarded by the Society for the 
 encouragement of Arts, for his drawings from antique 
 models, and also from the life, had the unpleasant 
 effect of relaxing his studies and exertions, instead of 
 stimulating him to attempt approaching nearer to 
 perfection. 
 
 After finishing his term with Sir Joshua, he retired 
 to Wales, where he was invited by the late munificent 
 Sir Watkyn Williams Wynne, who was his steady 
 patron, and assisted him in his proposed plan of 
 studying at Rome, whither he went in the year 1770 ; 
 returning five years afterwards to England, when he 
 attempted to settle in his profession in the metropolis, 
 taking a house in Duke-street, St. James's. Having
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ' gl 
 
 married Miss Keeiie, daughter of the architect of that 
 name, he was eifected so much by some imlmppy 
 family occurrences, as to retire from tlie metropolis 
 soon after, and to settle at his former Welsh residence, 
 where, however, he remained but a short time: the 
 loss of his wife, who died in parturition of iier only 
 child, having induced him, once more, to leave what 
 may properly be called his natal country ; for, though 
 born in London, he was yet of Welsh parentage, his 
 father being the celebrated blind performer on the 
 Welsh harp. 
 
 His object in visiting Rome seems to have been to 
 seek employment in his art, in addition to the wish of 
 stifling the regret for the loss of an amiable wife ; he 
 accordingly commenced the copying of some of the 
 finest pieces in that capital, but his health was soon so 
 much impaired, that he was induced to return to 
 England, where he did indeed arrive, but only to 
 breathe his last sigh where he had first opened his 
 eyes upon the world. 
 
 In Edwards's Anecdotes may be seen many par- 
 ticulars respecting his performances ; and I cannot 
 help regretting, along with that author, that his draw- 
 ing, in chalk, of the gallery so munificently filled with 
 valuable subjects for the student, and so liberally 
 opened by a late Duke of Richmond, is lost, as such 
 a thing would now be highly interesting to all lovers 
 of the art. 
 
 Mr. Reynolds now attained the summit of his 
 reputation as an artist, and maintained his dignified 
 station to the close of his life. Cotes and Ramsay 
 shared, in some degree, with him the fashion of the 
 day; for each of those painters had employment from 
 the court of England, where Reynolds as an artist 
 was never able to become a favourite. From that 
 source of envied and enviable honour, he had not the 
 happiness of receiving a single commission ; for it is 
 to be observed, that those exquisite portraits of the 
 King and Queen, now in the council-room of the Royal
 
 83 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Academy, wovg painted at the request of Reynolds 
 himself, purposely for that place. 
 
 Mr. Coles has ?»ow been dead upwards of forty 
 years, having lived only two years after the establish- 
 ment of the Royal Academy, of which he was a 
 member, and indeed one of the four who signed the> 
 petition to his Majesty to solicit its foundation. 
 
 This was the artist whom Hogarth considered 
 superior to Reynolds as a portrait painter; but per- 
 haps his great excellence ought to be confined solely 
 to his portraits in crayons, in which style he was 
 certainly superior to most of his rivals, as has been 
 prQperly remarked by Mr. Edwards. In oils, how- 
 ever, he must be considered totally inferior to his 
 illustrious competitor; and he was evidently so in tlie 
 opinion of the public, as his price for a three-quarter 
 never exceeded twenty guineas. 
 
 Mr. Allan Ramsay, even if possessed of no merit 
 of his own, would always have been noticed as the 
 son of Allan, the Scottish poet^ and the Burns of the 
 early part of the last century. 
 
 His father is called a self-taught poet. It is difficult, 
 however, to know what that means when said by way 
 of distiucticm — every real poet must be self-taught. 
 And the son, in the same manner, is said to be a self- 
 taught painter, because he had received no instruc- 
 tions till he gave them to himself in Italy; as every 
 good painter has done before him, either there or else- 
 where. But his being the compatriot of the Earl of 
 Bute was a ready passport to royal notice on his 
 return, particularly when added to his own abilities. 
 He was certainly superior to the artists of his time in 
 general; though his excellence did not warrant Wal- 
 pole in classing him so exactly with Sir Joshua, when 
 he said, '^ Reynolds and Ramsay have wanted sub- 
 jects, not genius." But I have heard Sir Joshua say, 
 that Ramsay was the most sensible man of all the 
 living artists ; and therefore it proved that some- 
 thing besides good sense is required to make a good 
 painter.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 83 
 
 Without entering into a tedious detail of minute 
 circumstances and of tlie petty animosities at that time 
 existing among the artists, I shall briefly observe, that 
 during all the contentions between the Society of 
 Artists, Dalton's Royal Academy in Pall Mall, and 
 the intrigues and quarrels that occupied so much of 
 the public press and of the public time, Mr. Reynolds 
 did not interfere; his name, indeed, was on the roll of 
 the Society at its first incorporation, and he was after- 
 wards appointed one of the directors, but he did not 
 act, and, as quaintly observed by a writer of that 
 time, " did not like them much ;" — in fact, he had 
 long withdrawn himself from the private meetings of 
 the directors, declaring publicly, that he was no friend 
 to their proceedings. 
 
 Much credit is, however, due to him, for liis ex- 
 ertions in favor of the public exhibitions ; and Barry, 
 indeed, does him full justice in one of his lectures, 
 when spealcing of them as established by Sir Joshua, 
 lie says, " to which we owe almost all the art we can 
 boast." In this year (I768,) in order at once to put an 
 end to these jarring interests, a rational and extended 
 plan was drawn up for the present Royal Academy, 
 of which, it has since been well observed by Barry, 
 under the reign of bis present Majesty, our most 
 gracious patron, the arts were, in some measure, raised 
 out of that disgraceful obscurity in whicii they had 
 been so long buried ; and a Royal Academy was in- 
 stituted under the King's immediate protection, for 
 the purpose of bringing forward that great line of his- 
 torical, superior art; from the successful [)rosecution 
 of which only, the King and public can expect to see 
 its reputation worthy their attention.'' 
 
 Notwithstanding the part which Mr. Reynolds was 
 taking in the necessary preparations for this establisli- 
 ment, yet he found time to gratify himself with a trip 
 to Paris, in tiie autumn of tliis year, in company with 
 Mr. William Burke, who, in a'letter dated the 10th of 
 October, from that metropolis, says, " Mr. Reynolds 
 and I make this scamper togetlier, and are both ex- 
 
 M
 
 81 Memoirs of 
 
 tremely satisfied with our tour; we return in a f*ew 
 days.'' 
 
 His return took place w ithin the expected time ; 
 and so forward were tlie proposed arrangements, tliat 
 on tlie 28th of November a petition AVas presented to 
 his Majesty, of which .the professed objects were the 
 establishment of a well regulated school or academy 
 of design, for the use of students in tlie arts, and an 
 annual exhibition open to all artists of distinguished 
 merit, w here they should have an opportunity of pre- 
 senting their productions to the inspection of the pub- 
 lic, and of thereby obtaining such share of general 
 reputation and encouragement ,as their performances 
 might seem to merit. 
 
 It was intended to supply the funds for the support 
 of the institution, by the produce of this annual exhibi- 
 tion ; and his Majesty was graciously pleased to 
 promise what further aid it might require, from the 
 privy purse. This aid was necessary, for a few years, 
 to the amount of 5000/. ; but the sums raised by the 
 exhibitions were soon so considerable, as not only to 
 render the royal munificence unnecessary, but even to 
 accumulate a large surplus in the funds, now forming 
 the basis of a liberal fund for decayed artists. For tlie 
 first twenty years, the net produce, on an average, 
 amounted to upwards of 1500/. per annum, and since 
 that it has amounted to an additional 1000/. 
 
 A very good view of the regulations of this estab- 
 lishment may be found in the Monthly Magazine for 
 March, 1810; and I may here observe, that annual- 
 prizes were also determined on as stimulants to rising 
 genius. These were, of course, to be awarded to the 
 best productions ; but it was w hirasically quoted at the 
 time, from the laws of the ancient city of Thebes, that 
 formerly the painter who exhibited the worst picture, 
 Avas also subject to a fine ! 
 
 Professorships were likewise establislied, and Dr. 
 Johnson was nominated Professor of Ancient Litera- 
 ture; an ofifice, indeed, merely honorary, but conferred
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 85 
 
 on him, as Sir John Hawkins hints, at the recom- 
 mendation of Mr. Reynolds. 
 
 Goldsmith also was not forgotten, he having re- 
 ceived the complimentary appointment of Professor of 
 Ancient History; an office, like the preceding, without 
 trouble or salary, and, as Dr. Percy observed, merely 
 giving him a place at the annual dinner. 
 
 Goldsmith himself, in a letter to his brotlier, says 
 of it — '^ The King has lately been pleased to make 
 me Professor of Ancient History in a Royal Academy' 
 of Painting, which he has just established ; but there 
 is no salary annexed; and I took it, rather as a com- 
 pliment to the Institution, than any benefit to myself, 
 Honours to one in my situation are something like 
 ruffles to a man that v/ants a shirt." 
 
 But the most importrnt event as relative to this In^ 
 stitution, and as connected with the subject of the 
 present biography, was, tljat in order to give dignity 
 to this Royal Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and 
 Architecture, which was composed of the ablest and 
 most respectable artists then resident in Great Britairi, 
 Reynolds was elected the first president by an unani- 
 mous vote. On that occasion he was knighted, per- 
 liaps with a view to dignify him : and indeed, had 
 that distinction been always so bestowedj it would 
 really have been an honour, and not the subject of 
 those sarcasms which but too often accompany the 
 title. Reynolds received it with satisfaction, as he 
 well knew that it would give additional splendour to 
 his works in vulgar eyes. It is not matter of surprize 
 that his election as president was unanimous; it is 
 certain that every circumstance considered, he was 
 the most fit, if not tlie only person, qualified to take 
 the chair: his professional rank, his large fortune, the 
 circle of society in which he moved, all these con- 
 tributed to establish his claim ; and to these vyas added 
 a still more urgent motive, naniely, that he had re- 
 fused (as I have been told), to belong to the Society on 
 any other conditions. Accordingly the Royal Acade- 
 my of Arts in London was opened on the 10th of De
 
 86 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 comber, I768, by Sir Josbua Reynolds, Kiit., with a 
 discourse adapted to the occasion. 
 
 This honour of knighthood was hii;hly gratifying to 
 all Sir Joshua's friends. Dr. .lohnson acknowledged 
 that for years he had not tasted wine, until he was 
 induced to break tjirough his rule of abstemiousness 
 in order to celebrate his friend's elevation: and Barry 
 afterwards observed, in a letter to Mr. liurke, *• I 
 have a notion, some how or other, that the arts would 
 be just now of some consequence, and pretty much of 
 a public concern, did not tlie state competitors, of 
 whom the papers are so full, divert the attention of 
 the public into another channel. 
 
 " However, 1 can say with truth, that as nobody is 
 more an enthusiast for Art tlian 1 am, so there is no 
 one who rejoices more sincerely at the honour done 
 Art by the title and dignity his Majesty has gracious- 
 ly conferred on that person whose plan of a public 
 exhibition has been as serviceable to the art as his 
 performances were. The public opinion will supply 
 what I would say." 
 
 The task of delivering discourses in the Academy 
 was no part of the prescribed duty of this office, first 
 so ably filled by Sir Joshua: but was voluntarily im- 
 posed on himself, for reasons which shall be after- 
 wards noticed, whilst taking a slight view of his 
 fifteenth discourse. 
 
 Before we proceed to investigate the purport of his 
 discourses in their regular order, it may be well here 
 to observe, that the delivery of these discourses was 
 not particularly happy, considering the great taste of 
 the speaker in other respects, and cannot be much 
 commended ; which may be accounted for from two 
 causes ; first, that his deafness might have prevented 
 his being well able to modulate his voice ; but second- 
 ly, I am rather of opinion that the real cause was, 
 that as no man ever felt a greater horror at affectation 
 than he did, so he feared to assume the orator, lest it 
 should have that appearance : he therefore naturally
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 87 
 
 fell into the opposite extreme as tlie safest retreat, 
 from what he thouglit the greatest evil. 
 
 It has been related as an anecdote, that on one of 
 the evenings when he delivered his discourse, and 
 when the andience was, as usual, numerous, and com- 
 posed principally of the learned and the great, the 
 
 Earl of C , who was present came up to iiim, 
 
 saying, " Sir Joshua, you read your discourse in so 
 low a tone, that I could not distinguish one word yoii 
 said." To which the President, with a smile replied, 
 " That was to my advantage.'^ 
 
 There is some little difficulty in fixing the exact 
 date of his first discourse; some accounts stating it;^ 
 delivery on the 10th of December, I768, when the 
 Academy was first opened : in Malone's edition of his 
 works, it is indeed dated on the 2nd of January, 
 1709; wliilst Sir Joshua himself, in a letter to Barry, 
 which will be hereafter inserted, speaks of its being 
 delivered on the first of that month. 
 
 AVithout attempting to reconcile those jarry date«!, 
 I shall merely observe, that the objects he had in 
 view in this first discourse, were to imprint upon the 
 minds of his audience how many advantages might be 
 expected from such an institution : after which he 
 offered hints for the consideration both of the pro- 
 fessors and of the visitors, whose office it is to attend 
 the scliool of the living model. He next showed the 
 absolute necessity of an implicit obedience to all the 
 rules of art, on the part of the youthful students, 
 warning thera to repress any premature or irregular 
 disposition to aim at masterly dexterity before they 
 had well acquired the necessary rudiments : and he 
 then showed, to render even diligence effectual, it was 
 absolutely necessary that it should always be directed 
 to proper objects. 
 
 In alluding to the extraordinary circumstance of 
 such an institution not having been before established, 
 he observed, that " It is, indeed, difficult to give any 
 other reason why an empire like that of Britain should 
 so long have wanted an ornament so suitable to its
 
 88 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 greatness, than that slow progression of things which 
 naturally makes elegance and refinement the last 
 eQ'cci of opulence and power."' 
 
 After shewing tliat tiie Academy had commenced 
 its labours at, perhaps, the happiest possible period, 
 not only from the patronage of the Monarch, and from 
 the general desire among the nobility to be distinguish- 
 ed as lovers and judges of the arts, as well as from 
 the greater superfluity of public wealth in general to 
 reward the professors, but also from the fact, that 
 there was, at that time, a greater number of excellent 
 artists than were ever known before, at one period, in 
 the nation; he pointed out the principal advantages 
 resulting from the academy to the art itself, to consist, 
 not only in its furnishing ahle men to direct the 
 student, but in being, also, a repository for the great 
 examples of the art. " These," said he, " are the 
 materials on which genius is to work, and without 
 which the strongest intellect may be fruitlessly or 
 deviously employed.'' 
 
 Whilst recommending strict attention to the stu- 
 dents, he particularly inculcated, that " those models 
 which have passed through the approbation of ages, 
 should be considered by them as perfect and infalla- 
 ble guides : as subjects for their imitation, not their 
 criticism :" and he then expressed his confidence, that 
 this was the only efficacious way of making any pro- 
 gress in the arts; adding, that he who sets out with 
 doubting, will find life finished before he becomes 
 master even of the rudiments of his profession. He 
 here considered it as a maxim, that he who begins by 
 presuming on his own sense, has ended his studies as 
 soon as he has commenced them; and from this he 
 took occasion to observe, that every opportunity 
 should be seized to discountenance that false and 
 vulgar opinion, that rules are the fetters of genius. In 
 contradiction to such an opinion, he asserted, that 
 they were fetters only to men of no genius ; as that 
 armour which, upon the strong, is an ornament and 
 defence, becomes a load upon the weak and mis-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. S9 
 
 ishapen, crippling that body which it was intended to 
 protect. 
 
 The advantages of assiduity he proved by expe- 
 rience : — '' AYhen we read the lives of the most 
 eminent painters, every page informs us, that no part 
 of their time was spent in dissipation. Even an in- 
 crease of fame served only to augment their industry. 
 To be convinced with what persevering assiduity they 
 pursued their studies, we need only reflect on their 
 method of proceeding in their most celebrated works. 
 When they conceived a subject, they first made a varie- 
 ty of sketches, then a finished drawing of the whole ; 
 after that, a more correct drawing of every separate 
 part — heads, hands, feet, and pieces of drapery ; they 
 then painted the picture ; and, after all, retouched it 
 from the life. The pictures, thus wrought with such 
 pains, now appear like the effect of enchantment, and 
 as if some mighty genius had struck them off at" a 
 blow!*' 
 
 At the conclusion of this spirited discourse, he ex- 
 pressed his hope that the Institution might answer the 
 expectation of its Royal Founder — " that the present 
 age may vie in arts with that of Leo the Tenth ; and 
 that //zf? dignity of the dying art (to make use of an 
 expression of Pliny) may be revived under the reigu 
 of George the Third.*' 
 
 This spirited oration gave general satisfaction, and 
 in a periodical journal of that time, it was obsers'ed, 
 that this discourse certainly did honour to the Presi- 
 dent as a painter, if any honour could be added to that 
 which he had already acquired by his pencil. It was 
 also acknowledged, that it had great merit as a litera- 
 ry composition; whilst Sir Joshua's idea, '' that the 
 Academy would at least contribute to advance the 
 knowledge of the arts, and bring us nearer to that 
 ideal excellence which it is the lot of genius always 
 to contemplate, but never to attain/*' is followed by 
 the observation, that this sentiment, none but a genius 
 conscious of the idea of unattainable perfection, and
 
 go MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of a perpetual effort to approach it, could have con- 
 ceived. 
 
 As a further testimony of Sir Joshua's merit, and 
 well deserved elevation, Barry says, in a letter, in 
 the early part of this year, to Mr. Burke, "I am 
 happy to find Mr. lleynolds is at the head of this 
 academy;" (this was previous to his hearing of liis 
 knighthood;) '' from his known public spirit, and 
 warm desire of raising up art among us, (which ex- 
 erted itself so successfully in establishing the Exhibi*- 
 tion.) he will, I have no doubt, contrive this institu- 
 tion to be productive of all the advantages that could 
 possibly be derived from it; and whilst it is in such 
 hands as his, we shall have nothing to fear from those 
 sliallovvs and quicksands upon which the Italian and 
 French academies have lost themselves :" and on 
 another occasion, in the same year, he wrote from 
 Paris to Mr. Burke, wliilst speaking of the paintings 
 at Versailles, " What I have seen since, gives me 
 more and more reason to admire Mr. Reynolds; you 
 know my sentiments of him already, and the more I 
 know and see of the art, the less likely they are to 
 change." 
 
 On the first of January, 1/69, a poetical tribute was 
 paid to the arts, and to the new Academy of London, 
 by the pen of the Reverend Dr. Thomas Francklin, 
 Chaplain to the King, and translator of Phalaris, 
 Sophocles, and Lucian, into English, and author also 
 of tlnee plays, the Earl of Warwick, and Matilda, 
 tragedies, and the Contract, a comedy. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF THE ARTS. 
 
 AVhen Discord, late, her baleful influence shed 
 O'er the fair realms of Science and of Art, 
 Neglected Genius bent his drooping head, 
 And pierced with anguish ev'ry tuneful heart; 
 
 Apollo wept his broken lyre, 
 
 Wept to behold the mournful choir 
 Of his lov'd Muses, now an exil'd train, 
 And in their seats to see Alecto reign.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 0| 
 
 When lo! Britannia, to the throne 
 Of goodness makes her sorrows known, 
 
 For never there did grief complain, 
 
 Or injur'd merit piead in vain. 
 The monarch heard her just request, 
 He saw, he felt, and he redressed ; 
 
 Quick with a master hand he tunes the strings, 
 
 And harmony from discords springs. 
 
 Thus good, by Heav'n's command, from evil flows, 
 From Chaos, thus, of old, Creation rose ; 
 "When order with confusion join'd, 
 And jarring elements combin'd, 
 
 To grace with mutual strength the great design, 
 
 And speak the Architect divine. 
 
 Whilst Eastern tyrants, in the trophy-d car. 
 Wave the red banner of destructive war, 
 
 In George's breast a nobler flame 
 
 Is kindled, and a fairer fame 
 Excites to cherish native wortli, 
 To call the latent seeds of genius forth. 
 To bid discordant factions cease, 
 And cultivate the gentle arts of peace. 
 
 And lo! from this auspicious day. 
 
 The sun of science beams a purer ray. 
 
 Behold ! a brighter train of years, 
 A new Augustian age appears; 
 
 The time, nor distant far, shall come, 
 When England's tasteful youth no more 
 Shall wander to Italia's classic shore; 
 
 No more to foreign climes shall roam 
 In search of models, better found at home. 
 
 With rapture the prophetic muse 
 
 Tier country's opening glories views, 
 
 Already sees, with wond'ring eyes. 
 
 Our Titians and our Guidos rise. 
 Sees new Palladois grace th' historic page, 
 And British Raffaelles charm a future age. 
 
 Meantime, ye sons of art, your offerings bring, 
 To grace your Patron and your King, 
 Bid sculpture grace his honour'd name 
 In marble, lasting as his fame : 
 Bid Painting's magic pencil trace 
 The features of his darling race.
 
 99 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 And as it flows through all the royal line, 
 Glow with superior warmth and energy divine. 
 
 If tow'ring Architecture still 
 
 Can boast her old creative skill, 
 Bid some majestic structure rise to view, 
 
 Worthy him, and worthy you ; 
 Where art may join with nature and with sense, 
 Splendor with grace — with taste, magnificence; 
 Where strength may be with elegance combined, 
 The perfect image of its master's mind. 
 
 And oh! if with the tuneful throng 
 The muse may dare to mix her humble song, 
 In your glad train permit her to appear. 
 Though poor, yet willing, and though rude, sincere, 
 To praise the Sov'reign whom her heart approves, 
 And pay this tribute to the ART she loves." 
 
 On the 2d of the month, the academy was opened, 
 and a general meeting of the Royal Academicians took 
 place, when some public business was gone through ; 
 after which the whole body adjourned to an elegant 
 entertainment at the St. Alban's Tavern, where Sir 
 Joshua presided with his accustomed urbanity, the 
 meeting being honoured with the presence of many of 
 the most distinguished nobility, who were now proud 
 to come forward as patrons of the arts. 
 
 It seems beneath the dignity even of biography, to 
 note these things which many will esteem trifling in 
 themselves, yet the time may come when even these 
 particulars will be of some interest ; and as this period 
 was an era in the annals of British art, I must be al- 
 lowed to mark it by the gratulations of the Poets of 
 the day, who exprest their good wishes in the best 
 manner they were able, and no doubt would have 
 done it much better if it had been in their power. In 
 that point of view, therefore, I shall not refrain from 
 inserting a song made for the occasion, by the good 
 old Mr. Hull, the commedian, and sung at this joy- 
 ous meeting by Mr. Vernon, the fashionable per- 
 former of the day.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 9^ 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Let Science hail this happy year, 
 
 Let Fame its rising glories sing, 
 When arts unwonted lustre wear, 
 
 And boast a patron in their King ; 
 And here unrivall'd shall they reign, 
 
 For George protects the polish'd train. 
 
 To you just ripen'd into birth, 
 
 He gives the fair, the great design ; 
 'Tis ^o?<rs, ye Sires, of genuine worth, 
 / To bid the future artists shine ; 
 
 That arts unrivall'd long may reign, 
 Where George protects the polish'd train. 
 
 'Tis yours, well selected band, 
 
 To watch where infant genius blows, 
 To rear the flower with fost'ring hand, 
 And ev'ry latent sweet disclose j 
 So arts unrivall'd long will reign, 
 Where George protects the polish'd train. 
 
 No more to distant realms repair 
 
 For foreign aid, or borrovv'd rule, 
 Beneath her Monarch's gen'rous care, 
 Britannia founds a nobler school, 
 Where arts unrivall'd shall remain, 
 For George protects the polish'd train. 
 
 So shall her sons in Science bred, 
 
 Diffuse her arts from shore to shore, 
 And wide her growing genius spread, 
 As round the world her thunders rourj 
 For he, who rules the subject main, 
 Great George protects the polish'd train." 
 
 This song, so congenial to the flattering hopes of the 
 company, whose cares were, for a time, suspended in 
 festivity, and who had met to be gay, was received 
 with much applause. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 26th of April, the exhibition of 
 the Royal Academy, in Pall Mall, was opened for 
 the first time, and drew the greatest crowds and of the 
 highest fashion ; and it was observed in the periodical
 
 94 MEMO[RS OF 
 
 journals of the time, that the encouragement given to 
 this institution was even already visible in tlie works 
 of genius then exhibited : and I may take the opjior- 
 tunity of noting in this place, that Sir Joshua's ex- 
 ertions to raise the character of the Academy, were not 
 contined to his discourses alone ; as from its first 
 opening, until the year 17i)0, inclusive, it appears that 
 he sent no less tlian two hundred and forty-four pic- 
 tures to tlic various exhibitions. 
 
 In this year Sir Joshua Reynolds wrote a most 
 excellent letter to Barry, then a student at Kome. It 
 is so descriptive of the writer's principles, and so 
 honourable to his feelings as an artist, that I sliall 
 insert it here at length, only premising, that it was 
 partly addressed to Barry in consequence of a letter 
 from him to Mr. Burke, in which he described him- 
 self as engaged in some contests with the picture 
 dealers at Home, who were acting very illiberally 
 towards young English artists, and using underhand 
 means to prevent their being employed by various 
 travellers in copying or making originals, as those 
 dealers in rotten pictures earnestly desired to possess 
 themselves of all the loose cash which affluent tourists 
 had purposed to lay out in Vertu. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ^' I am very much obliged to you for your re- 
 membrance of me in ^our letter to Mr. Burke, which, 
 though I have read with great pleasure as a compo- 
 sition, I cannot help saying with some regret, to find 
 that so great a portion of your attention has been en- 
 gaged upon temporary matters, which might be so 
 much more profitably employed upon what would 
 gtick by you through your whole life. 
 
 '' Whoever is resolved to excel in painting, or, in- 
 deed, in any other art, must bring all liis mind to bear 
 upon that one object, from the moment he rises till he 
 goes to bed; the effect of every object that meets the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. gg 
 
 painter's eye may give him a lesson, provided his 
 mind is calm, unembarrassed vv^itli other objects, and 
 open to instruction. This general attention, witli 
 other studies connected with the art, which must em- 
 ploy the artist in bis closet, will be found sufficient to 
 fill up life, if it was much longer than it is. Were 1 in 
 your place, I would consider myself as playing a great 
 game, and never suifer the little malice and envy of 
 my rivals to draw oif my attention from tbe main 
 object; whicli, if you pursue with a steady eye, it will 
 not be in the power of all the Cieerones in tiie world 
 to hurt you. Whilst they are endeavouring to prevent 
 the gentlemen from employing the young Jirtists, in- 
 stead of injuring them, they are, in my opinion, doing 
 them the greatest service. 
 
 ^' Whilst I was at Rome I was very little employed 
 by them, and that I always considered as so much 
 time lost : copying those ornamental pictures, which 
 the travelling gentlemen always bring home with them 
 as furniture for their houses, is far from being the 
 most profitable manner of a student spending his time. 
 Whoever has great views, I would recommend to him, 
 whilst at Rome, rather to live on bread and water, 
 than lose those advantages which he can never hope 
 to enjoy a second time, and which he will find only 
 in the Vatican ; where, I will engage, no cavalier 
 sends his students to copy for him. I do not meau 
 this as any reproach to the gentlemen ; the works in 
 that place, though they are the proper study of an 
 artist, make but an awkward figure painted in oil, 
 and reduced to the size of easel pictures. The 
 Capella Sistina is the production of the greatest 
 genius that was ever employed in the arts; it is worth 
 considering by what principles that stupendous great- 
 ness of style is produced ; and endeavouring to pro- 
 duce something of your own on those principles, will 
 be a more advantageous method of study, than copy- 
 ing the St. Cecilia in the Borghese, or the Herodias 
 of Guide, which may be copied to eternity, witliout
 
 96 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 contributing one jot towards making a man a more 
 able painter. 
 
 '' If you neglect visiting the Vatican often, and 
 particularly the Capella Sistina, you will neglect re- 
 ceiving that peculiar advantage which Rome can give 
 above all other cities in the world. In other places 
 you will find casts from the antique, and capital pic- 
 tures of the great painters, but it is Were, only that you 
 can form an idea of the dignity of the art, as it is there 
 only that you can see the works of Michael Angelo 
 and Raffaelle. If you should not relish them at first, 
 which may probably be the case, as they have none 
 of those qualities which are captivating at first sight, 
 never cease looking till you feel something like in- 
 spiration come over you, till you think every other 
 painter insipid, in comparison, and to be admired only 
 for petty excellencies. 
 
 " I suppose you have heard of the establishment of 
 a Royal Academy here ; the first opportunity I have I 
 will send you the discourse I delivered at its open- 
 ing, which was the first of January. As I hope you 
 will be hereafter one of our body, I wish you would, 
 as opportunity oifers, make memorandums of the 
 the regulations of the academies that you may visit in 
 your travels, to be engrafted on our own, if they should 
 be found useful. 
 
 " I am, with the greatest esteem, yours, 
 
 " J. Reynolds. 
 
 '^ On reading my letter over, I think it requires 
 some apology for the blunt appearance of a dictatorial 
 style, in which I have obtruded my advice. I am 
 forced to write in a great hurry, and have little time 
 for polishing my style." 
 
 In the month of October, this year. Sir Joshua was 
 called on to attend the sessions in the Old Bailey, in 
 company with Dr. Johnson, Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 9^ 
 
 and several other distinguished characters, to give 
 evidence to character in favor of the well known Mr. 
 Barretti, in consequence of his being obliged to stand 
 trial under a verdict of manslaughter, found against 
 him by a coroner's inquest, on the 10th of the month. 
 
 This unfortunate circumstance arose from Mr. Bar- 
 rett! having been attacked on the 5th in the evening, 
 at the end of Panton-street, going into the Haymarket, 
 by a prostitute, who rudely and indecently accosted 
 him. He pushed her from him, but she finding by his 
 accent that he was a foreigner immediately called him 
 by the most opprobious names; and her loud tones 
 having brought up a bully, he began to assault Mr. 
 Barretti in the most outrageous manner. 
 
 Some more of the gang then approached, and attempt- 
 ed to hustle him, when he was obliged, in his defence, 
 to pull out a small knife, warning them not to use him 
 ill, that he would not bear it, and would strike the 
 first person that should come near him. 
 
 He then ran, and as they pursued him, he kept 
 moving his hand backward and forward in running 
 from them, to defend himself, and thus wounded two 1 
 of his assailants, one of whom died afterwards in the %^ 
 Middlesex hospital. The crowd was now so great, ^ 
 that Mr. Barretti, no longer in dread of his life, im- \ 
 
 mediately submitted himself, and was committed by 
 Sir John Fielding to Tothill-fields prison. 
 
 The coroner's inquest sat two days before they 
 brought in their verdict, when Barretti was admitted 
 to bail, and the trial taking place on the S3rd, he re- 
 fused to avail himself of the usual privilege of having 
 half his jury composed of foreigners ; but the evi- 
 dences for the prosecution so completely contradicted 
 themselves and each other, that little more was ne- 
 cessary than for him to explain the circumstances, 
 which he did, justifying the act as one of self-defence, 
 after having been repeatedly struck and abused; at 
 the same time asserting, that the knife was drawn 
 only to terrify, and not to wound, though the pressing
 
 98 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of tlie populace in his retreat had, in a moment of 
 agitation, led hira further than he at first intended. 
 
 This was confirmed by some most respectable eye- 
 witnesses; and the host of brilliant evidence, in favour 
 of his general character, immediately drew forth a 
 verdict of acquittal, to the complete satisfaction of tlie 
 court and of the public at large. 
 
 The only pupil whom Sir Joshua had at this period 
 was Mr. Charles Gill, son of a person at Bath, whose 
 exquisite taste as a pastry cook has been particularly 
 noticed by Anstey in his celebrated poem. Mr. Gill, 
 the younger, has, however, not been so celebrated in 
 his art, and is unhappily one of those whom Mr. 
 Edwards notices to have been peculiarly unfortunate, 
 having received a very severe wound in his thigh, 
 which has deprived him of the use of his leg. 
 
 Sir Joshua during part of this year appears to have 
 been deprived of his sister's domestic attentions, by a 
 visit to Paris. This has been very prettily noticed by 
 Dr. Johnson, in a letter to a Miss Flint, a very young 
 lady who had translated his Strictures on Shakspeare 
 into French, and was then resident at that gay metrop- 
 olis. He says, " How can you prevent me from com- 
 plaining of those charms by which you have gained 
 so much on Miss Reynolds, that she no longer re- 
 members her couutry nor her friends? It is but a trifle 
 f(U* you to praise us; it is a trifle to spread our literary 
 fame, whilst you deprive us of the pleasure of seeing 
 and of conversing with Miss Reynolds. In short, 
 Madam, ijoii must become less amiable, if you wish 
 that we should love you more." 
 
 It was also some time about this period, and pre- 
 vious to my becoming a pupil of Sir Joshua, that a 
 circumstance took place, highly illustrative of his 
 character, and which I shall now detail, knowing it 
 to be authentic. 
 
 Sir Joshua, as his usual custom, looked over the 
 daily morning paper at his breakfast time; and on one 
 of those perusals, whilst reading an account of the Old 
 Bailey sessions, to his great astonishment, saw that a
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 99 
 
 prisoner hatl been tried and conderanetl to death for a 
 robbery committed on the person of one of his own 
 servants, a negro who had been with him for some 
 time. He immediately rung the bell for the servants, 
 in order to make his inquiries, and was soon convinced 
 of the truth of the matter related in the newspaper. 
 This black man had lived in his service as footman 
 for several years, and has been pourtrayed in several 
 pictures, particularly in one of the Marquis of Granby, 
 where he holds the horse of.that General. Sir Joshua 
 reprimanded this black servant for his conduct, and 
 especially for not having informed iiim of this curious 
 adventure; wiien the man said he had concealed it 
 only to avoid the blame he should have incurred had 
 he told it: he then related the following circumstances 
 of the business, sajing, that Mrs. Anna Williams 
 (the old blind lady who lived at the house of Dr. 
 Johnson) had, some time previous, dined at Sir 
 Joshua's with Miss Reynolds ; that in the evening 
 she went home to Bolt-court, Fleet-street, in a hack- 
 ney-coach, and that he had been sent to attend her to 
 her house. On his return he had met with companions 
 who had detained him till so late an hour, that when 
 he came to Sir Joshua's house, he found the doors 
 were shut and all the servants gone to rest. In this 
 dilemma he wandered in the street till he came to a 
 watch-house, in which he took shelter for the remain- 
 der of the night, among the variety of miserable com- 
 panions to be found in such places; and amidst this 
 assembly of the wretched, the black man fell sound 
 asleep, when a poor thief who had been taken into 
 custody by the constable of the night, perceiving, as 
 the man slept, that he had a watch and money in his 
 pocket (which was seen on his thigh,) he watched 
 his opportunity and stole the watch, and with a pen- 
 knife cut through the pocket, and so possessed himself 
 of the money. When the Black awaked from his nap, 
 he soon discovered what had been done to his cost, 
 and immediately gave the alarm, and a strict search 
 was made through the compan}' ; when the various 
 
 o
 
 100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 articles which the Blnck had lost were found in the 
 possession of the unfortunate wretch who had stolen 
 them. He was accordiugly secured, and next morn- 
 ing carried heforc the Justice, and committed to take 
 Lis trial at the Old Bailey, (the Black being bound 
 over to prosecute,) and, as we have seen, was at his 
 trial cast and condemned to death. Sir Joshua, much 
 alli^cted by this recital, immediately sent his principal 
 servant, Ralph Kirkly, to make all inquiries into the 
 vstate of the criminal, and, if necessary, to relieve his 
 wants in whatever way could be done. When Kirkly 
 came to the prison, lie Mas soon admitted to the cell of 
 the prisoner, where he beheld the most wretched 
 spectacle that imagination can conceive — a poor for- 
 lorn criminal, without a friend on earth who could 
 relieve or assist him, and reduced almost to a skele- 
 ton by famine and by filth, waiting till the dreadful 
 morning should arrive when he was to be made an 
 end of by a violent death. Sir Joshua now ordered 
 fresh cloathing to be sent to him, and also that the 
 black servant should carry to him every day a sufficient 
 supply of food from his own table ; and at that time 
 Mr. E. Burke being very luckily in oflBce he applied 
 to him, and by their joint interest they got his sen- 
 tence changed to transportation; when after being 
 furnished with all necessaries, he was sent out of the 
 kingdom. 
 
 When Goldsmith first published his " Deserted 
 Village," he dedicated it to his friend Sir Joshua, in 
 which he elegantly observes, ^' 1 can have no expecta- 
 tions, in an address of this kind, either to add to your 
 reputation, or to establish my own. You can gain 
 nothing from my admiration, as I am ignorant of the 
 art in which you are said to excel ; and I may lose 
 much by the severity of your judgment, as few have 
 a juster taste in poetry than you. Setting interest, 
 therefore, aside, to which I never paid much attention, 
 I must be indulged, at present, in following my affec- 
 tions. 'J he only dedication I ever made was to my 
 brother, because 1 loved him better than most other
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 101 
 
 men. He is since dead. Permit rae to inscribe this 
 Poem to you." 
 
 During the latter part of the year, Sir Joshua was 
 much occupied in the preparation of his second dis- 
 course, which was delivered at the rooms of tlie 
 Academy, on the 11th of December, 17()9. 
 
 The general object of this discourse was to convey 
 a brief code of instructions for improvement in tlie 
 various arts whiv.h the Academy was intended to 
 encourage ; and these hints, as it was neatly observed 
 at the time, were oifered with the *• ingenuous modes- 
 ty of a man, who by excellence becomes concious of 
 defect, as hints founded upon his own previous mis- 
 takes which might at least prevent industry from being 
 misapplied." 
 
 Considering the study of Painting, in particular, as 
 divided into three parts, he supposed the first, which 
 was merely that of acquiring a facility of drawing any 
 object, a tolerable readiness in the management of 
 colours, and an acquaintance witli the most simple and 
 obvious of the rules of composition, to have been al- 
 ready passed through by the student, to whom he next 
 recommended the absolute necessity of collecting sub- 
 jects for expression, and of amassing a stock of ideas 
 capable of being combined and varied agreeable to 
 circumstances. 
 
 This he considered as forming the second period, 
 in which the student was to endeavour to acquire a 
 general knowledge of all that was already known and 
 executed ; in which, no longer under the tuition of any 
 particular master, he was to consider himself solely 
 as the pupil of the art, and thus to acquire and com- 
 bine all the perfections scattered through the works of 
 the most celebrated of pa.'3t times, and of the various 
 schools. 
 
 In this part of the progress, though the student was 
 to be at liberty to regulate his taste, and to enlarge 
 the powers of his imagination, still was he to consider 
 himself as restricted by certain rules, and so much in 
 subjection and discipline under the art in general, as
 
 i02, MEMOIRS OF 
 
 not to be permitted to resign himself to any particular 
 authority, mueh less to deviate into any track where 
 he could perceive no antecedent footsteps. 
 
 Having gone through the second, and arrived at 
 the last stage, he considered the student as then 
 liberated from all former authority, and to be now 
 guided solely by judgement ; being thus placed, if not 
 upon an equality, yet in the same rank with those 
 who had preceded him ; and even as exercising a por- 
 tion of sovereignty over those very rules by which he 
 himself had been governed in the former course of his 
 studies. 
 
 At this period too, he described him as justified in 
 adopting a new mode of judgment; being no longer 
 bound to compare the productions of art with each 
 other, but to examine the art itself by Nature's own 
 standard, and thus to correct its errors, and supply its 
 defects. 
 
 With a memory thus stored, and a judgment thus 
 directed, then, and not till then, was the student to try 
 the power of imagination, nay, even to give it the 
 reins; for he asserted that '• the man whose mind has 
 been thus disciplined, might be indulged in the warm- 
 est enthusiasm, and might even venture to play on the 
 borders of tlie wildest extravagance ; as then the 
 habitual dignity which long converse with the greatest 
 minds has imparted to him, will display itself in all 
 his attempts, and he will stand among his instructors, 
 not as an imitator, but as a rival.'' He assumed that 
 invention was little more than a new combination of 
 such images as have been already treasured up in the 
 memory, so that he whose mind was best stored with 
 images, would most certainly be the most capable of 
 invention ; and thus that lie who was best acquainted 
 Avith the compositions of others, would be the most 
 capable of originality. 
 
 Of course it followed, as he premised, that such 
 artists as toil on in the dull drudgery of copying, 
 though they might, indeed, faithfully exhibit the mi- 
 nutest part of some favourite composition, would,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 103 
 
 howeverj never arrive at any excellence. This posi- 
 tion, so much at variance with the rules then gen- 
 erally adopted, he explained by the observation, that 
 of the best large compositions, a great part was always 
 commonly-place, which, though it takes much time to 
 copy, could conduce but little to improvement. It fol- 
 lows, of course, as he observes, that imitation should 
 always be preceded by selection ; but still as that re- 
 quires no eflbrt of the mind, so would the powers of 
 invention and composition become torpid and devoid 
 of energy from want of exercise, instead of being kepi, 
 as they ought to be, in constant practice. 
 
 Indeed, he confined the use of copying solely to the 
 learning to colour; though, even that branch of the art 
 can never be acquired by a servile copyist: and here 
 too he pointed out that a slcilful artist av ould always 
 rather consider what the productions of the ancient 
 masters had been, than what they are now, when 
 changed by dirt and varnish : and from lience he again 
 pointed out the necessity to copy Nature herself, in 
 comparison with those hues, the best coloured pictures 
 are but faint and feeble, and therefore most likely to 
 give the youthful student ideas totally distinct from 
 either art or nature. 
 
 In addition to these hints, he allowed that copying 
 might be so far proper, as to make slight sketches of 
 the machinery and general management of any admired 
 picture, in order to preserve these for future regula- 
 tions of style, so that the student, instead of copying 
 the touches of the great masters, would only copy 
 their conceptions. 
 
 Yet in these general observations, it was not his in- 
 tention to do away models in painting : but instead of 
 advising the student to paint a copy, he recommended 
 to him to paint a companion; so that by comparing 
 the two carefully together, he might best see his own 
 defects, and be thereby taught to guard against them. 
 
 In this most important part of the art, he recom- 
 mended Lodovico Caracchi as the best model for 
 style; and this he accompanied by some most judi-
 
 lOl! MEMOIRS OF 
 
 cious remarks, but too long for insertion here : and his 
 concluding observations are higlily worthy the atten- 
 tion of all students, showing them that to excel, they 
 must always consider that " Kxcellence is never 
 granted to man but as the reward of JLabour/*' 
 
 In the year 1/70 died a former pupil of Sir Joshua's 
 of the name of Dusign. His father was a colonel in 
 the army, and his mother daughter of the Earl of 
 Kyndford, a Scottish peer. After quitting Sir Joshua, 
 he [)raciised, a few years, at Bath, where his family 
 resided ; but the desire of improving himself in his 
 art induced him to proceed to Rome, and there he 
 soon after died of a consumption. About this time, 
 also, a little circumstance took place which, from its 
 connection with the art, deserves a record here. 
 
 Most persons remember the lines by Pope which 
 begin thus : 
 
 " Come gentle air! tlr ^olian shepherd said, 
 "\>'l)ile Procris panted in the secret shade." 
 
 These verses, it is well known, Pope sent to Miss 
 Martha Blount, accompanied with a fan, on which he 
 had painted the story of Cephalus and Procris, from 
 a design of his own invention, with the motto " Aura 
 
 After the death of Miss Blount, this fan, w ith other 
 effects, was sold by public auction, and Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds sent a person to bid for it, as far as thirty 
 guineas ; but the man who was intrusted with the 
 commission mistook the mark in the catalogue, and 
 thought it could mean no more than thirty shillings, 
 as that sum seemed a very sufficient price for a fan. 
 As it sold, however, for about two pounds, he lost the 
 purchase ; but luckily, it was bought by a dealer in 
 toys, and Sir Joshua got it by giving him a reasona- 
 ble profit on his bargain. The fan was afterwards 
 stolen from him. 
 
 Sir Joshua's opinion of the degree of skill with 
 which it was painted, being asked ; he replied, that it
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 10.1 
 
 was such as might have been expected from one \vho 
 painted for his amusement alone ; like the performance 
 of a child. This must always be the ease when the work 
 is taken up only from idleness, and laid aside when it 
 ceases to amuse any longer. But those, he added, 
 who are determined to excel, must go to their work 
 whether willing or unwilling, morning, noon, and 
 night, and will find it to be no play, but, on the con- 
 trary, very hard labour. 
 
 This was said to his pupils, and in this mode only 
 it was that he ever gave any instruction to them, wlien 
 accident produced an opportunity to give it force. 
 
 Sir Joshua's ch)se attention to his profession re- 
 quired a certain portion of relaxation and social 
 intercourse with his friends ; and about the year 177t)> 
 he, as stated by Mr. Cumberland, was one of a very 
 pleasant society, which, without having the name of a 
 club, was accustomed to dine together, on stated days^ 
 at the British Cofl'ee House. 
 
 This society was composed of men of the first em- 
 inence for their talents, and as there was no exclu- 
 sion, in the system, of any members friend or friends, 
 their parties were continually enlivened by the intro- 
 duction of new guests, who, of course, furnished new 
 sources for conversation, from which politics and party 
 seemed, by general consent, decidedly proscribed. 
 
 Such a society might, no doubt, have been highly 
 agreeable ; but its description, thus strongly marked 
 by Mr. Cumberland, seems rather drawn up in con- 
 tradiction to the Literary Club, of which he was not a 
 member. 
 
 This society at the British Coffee House must, 
 however, with the exception of Johnson's conversa- 
 tion, have made him amends for any exclusion from 
 the other; for here were Foote, Fitzherbert, Garriek, 
 Macpherson, Doctors Carlisle, Robinson, and Beat- 
 tie, Caleb Whiteford, and " though last, not least,-' 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, who introduced Goldsmith as a 
 member, immediately previous to the representation 
 eft' his comedy of " She Stoops to Conquer."
 
 100 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 It was about this time, too, that the so often told 
 circumstance of the Epitaphs took place. The occur- 
 rences whicli led to this display of witticism, have been 
 variously detailed. I shall, therefore, insert Mr. 
 Cumberland's account of it, as it contains some par- 
 ticulars not otherwise generally known. 
 
 He says, that it was on a proposal started by Ed- 
 mund Burke, that a party of friends who had dined 
 together at Sir Joshua's, and at his house, should meet 
 at the St. James's Coftee House, which accordingly 
 took place, and was occasionally repeated with much 
 festivity and good fellowship. Dr. Barnard, Dean of 
 Derry, Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, 
 Johnson, Garrick, Sir Joshua, Goldsmith, Edmund 
 and Richard Burke, Hickey, an attorney, an Irish- 
 man, and a friend of the Burkes, commemorated by 
 Goldsmith, and two or three others, constituted the 
 party. 
 
 It was at one of these meetings that the idea was 
 suggested of extempore Epitaphs upon the parties 
 present; pens and ink were called for, and Garrick, 
 ofif hand, with a good deal of humour, wrote the Epi- 
 taph upon poor Goldsmith, who was the first in jest, 
 as he proved in reality, that was committed to the 
 grave. 
 
 The Dean also gave him an epitaph, and Sir 
 Joshua illuminated the Dean's verses with a sketch of 
 his bust in pen and ink, which Mr. C. states to have 
 been inimitably caricatured ; but this does not appear 
 to me like an act of Sir Joshua's, nor did I ever hear 
 it mentioned by any other author. 
 
 These circumstances were of course suflRcient to 
 prompt Goldsmith to his well known poem of ^' Re- 
 taliation," which, however, was written with such 
 good temper, as to shew that he was fully convinced 
 of the pleasantries of his friends having been solely 
 produced by the harmless mirth of the moment. 
 
 It is probable that whoever reads this Memoir, 
 must have already seen that celebrated poem i yet
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 107 
 
 still his delineation of Sir Joshua is too accurate to 
 be here omitted. 
 
 " Here Reynolds is laid; and to tell you my mind, 
 
 He has not left a better or wiser behind; 
 
 His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand, 
 
 His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
 
 Still born to improve us in every part, 
 
 His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: 
 
 To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly staring, 
 
 When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing; 
 
 When they talked of their Raffaelles, Corregios, and stuff, 
 
 He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff!" 
 
 In the poetical epistle addressed to Goldsinith, by 
 Cumberland, as a supplement to his Poem, are the 
 following lines : 
 
 " Pour forth to Reynolds without stint, 
 Rich Burgundy, of ruby tint; 
 If e'er his colours chance to fade. 
 This brilliant hue shall come in aid ; 
 With ruddy lights refresh the faces, 
 And warm the bosoms of the Graces." 
 
 These lines certainly savour much of their author. 
 
 When first the cross readings, ship news, and mis- 
 takes of the press, appeared in the newspapers of the 
 day, they attracted universal attention, and the lucky 
 invention so much delighted Dr. Goldsmith, that he 
 declared, in the heat of his admiration of them, that it 
 would give him more pleasure to have been the author, 
 than of all the works he had ever published of his own. 
 
 Tliey were written by the late Caleb Whiteford, 
 who was one of the members when the epitaphs were 
 written. On that occasion, Whiteford wrote two on 
 Goldsmith and Cumberland, with which they were 
 both so displeased, that he did not attend at the next 
 meeting, but addressed the following apology to Sir 
 Joshua. 
 
 " Admire not, dear Knight! 
 That I keep out of sight, 
 P
 
 108 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 Consider what perils await him, 
 
 "NVho with ill season'd jokes 
 
 Indiscreetly provokes 
 The Genus irrltabile Vatuvi. 
 
 I felt when these swains 
 Rehears'd their sweet strains, 
 
 That mine had too much lemon juice; 
 And strove to conceal, 
 For the general weal, 
 
 What at last I was forc'd to produce. 
 
 After such panegyric 
 The least thing satiric 
 
 Must throw both the Bards in the twitters; 
 'Twas impossible they, 
 After drinking Tokay, 
 
 Could relish a bumper of bitters. 
 
 Do talk to each bard, 
 
 Beg they won't be too hard, 
 
 But be merciful as thej are stout; 
 I rely on your skill, 
 Say just what you will, 
 
 And as vou brought me in, bring me out! 
 
 To the company too, 
 Some apology's due, 
 
 I know you can do it with ease ; , 
 
 Be ityour's, Sir, to place. 
 In ihe best light, my case, 
 
 And give it what colour you please. 
 
 For those brats of my brain, 
 Which have caused so much pain, 
 
 Henceforth I renounce and disown 'em: 
 And still keep in sight, 
 When I epitaphs write, 
 
 De mortuis nil nisi bonum.^^ 
 
 With this whimsical request it is said Sir Joshua 
 complied, and by his friendly exertions succeeded in 
 restoring that htirmony which had thus been interrupt- 
 ed by the irriUbility of those who were annoyed by 
 Caleb's briskness.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. > |09 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to enter into the particulars 
 of the well known anecdote of Dr. Bernard, already 
 mentioned as a member of this society; when having 
 advanced in conversation with Sir Joshua and Dr. 
 Johnson, that he thought no man could improve who 
 was past the age of forty-five, the latter immediately 
 turned round to the Dean and observed, '• that he (the 
 Dean) was an instance to the contrary ; for there was 
 great room for improvement in him, and he wished 
 that he would set about it." 
 
 The Dean took no notice of this hint at the time, 
 but the next day sent a very elegant poetic epistle, 
 addressed to " Sir Joshua Reynolds and Co. ;*' and 
 as part of those stanzas is highly descriptive of Sir 
 Joshua, I shall not only insert that passage, but the 
 whole in order to make it more intelligible and im- 
 pressive. 
 
 " I lately thought no man alive, 
 Could e'er improve past fortj-five, 
 
 And ventur'd to assert it; 
 The observation was not new, 
 But seemed to me so just and true, 
 
 That none could controvert it. 
 
 No, Sir! says Johnson, 'tis not so, 
 That's your mistake, and I can shew 
 
 An instance if you doubt it; 
 You, Sir, who are near forty -eight, 
 May much improve, 'tis not too late, 
 
 I wish you'd set about it. 
 
 Eucourag'd thus to mend my faults, 
 I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts, 
 
 Which way I should apply it; 
 Learning and wit seemed past my reach. 
 For who can learn, when none will teach, 
 
 And wit I could not buy it. 
 
 Then come, my friends, and try your skillj 
 You can inform me if you will, 
 
 (My books are at a distance;) 
 With you I'll live and learn, and then. 
 Instead of books, 1 shall read men, 
 So lend me your assistance.
 
 110 MEMOIRS OP 
 
 Dear Knight ofPlympton, tell me hovr 
 To suffer with unruflied brow, 
 
 Aud smile serene like tiiine; 
 The jest uncouth, or truth severe, 
 To such I'll turn my deafest ear. 
 
 And calmly drink my wine. 
 
 Thou say'st not only skill is gain'd, 
 But genius too may be attain'd, 
 
 By studious imitation; 
 Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, 
 I'll copy till I make them mine 
 
 By constant application. 
 
 Thy art of pleasing, teach me, Garrick ! 
 Thou who reverest odes Pindarick,* 
 
 A second time read o'er; 
 Oh could we read the backwards too, 
 Last thirty years thou shouldst review, 
 And charm us thirty more. 
 
 If I have thoughts, and can't express them, 
 Gibbon shall teach me how to dress them, 
 
 In terms select and terse ; 
 Jones teach me modesty and Greek, 
 Smith how to think, Burke how to speak, 
 
 And Beau clerk to converse. 
 
 Let Johnson teach me how to place, 
 In fairest light, each borrow'd grace. 
 
 From him I'll learn to write; 
 Copy his clear, familiar style, 
 And from the roughness of his file 
 
 Grow like himself — polite." 
 
 In the midst of all this excellent society, Sir Joshua 
 still attended sedulously to his profession ; and in this 
 year (1/70,) his price for a head was raised to thirty- 
 five guineas : his own portrait was also painted about 
 this time by ZofFanii in a large picture, in whicli 
 were represented all the first members of the Roy- 
 al Academy, and now in the King's collection. 
 
 • Garrick had said that Cumberland's Odes might be read 
 either backwards or forwards, with equal beauty and precision.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. m 
 
 This group of portraits was afterwards engraved 
 by Earlora. 
 
 On the 14th of December he produced his third 
 discourse, whose leading objects were a delineation of 
 the great and essential principles of the grand style, 
 an investigation of beauty, and a series of arguments 
 to prove that the genuine habits of nature are totally 
 distinct from those of fashion. 
 
 He commenced this discourse by adverting to a 
 great difficulty which operated against him in the 
 arrangement of each discourse ; that was the circum- 
 stance of his being obliged to direct his advice to an 
 assembly composed of so many students of different 
 ages, and of diiferent degrees of advancement. In 
 speaking afterwards of the close attention to be paid 
 to nature, he still warned the student that even nature 
 herself is not to be too closely copied ; and he added, 
 that there are excellencies in the art of painting be- 
 yond what is commonly called the imitation of nature ; 
 so that a mere copier of nature can never produce any 
 thing great, can never raise and enlarge the concep- 
 tions, nor warm the heart of the spectator. 
 
 He therefore recommended to the genuine painter 
 to have more extensive ol)jects in view, and instead jof 
 endeavouring to amuse mankind with the minute 
 neatness of his imitations, rather to endeavour to im- 
 prove them by the grandeur of his ideas; and thus to 
 strive for fame by captivating the imagination, instead 
 of seeking praise by the silly attempt at deceiving the 
 senses. The correctness of this principle he consider- 
 ed as so absolute in itself, as not to require tlie aid of 
 novelty to recommend it, and he shewed that it was 
 from the earliest times enforced by the poets, orators, 
 and rhetoricians of antiquity, as well as supported by 
 the general opinion of the enlightened part of man- 
 kind, giving, at the same time, appropriate quotations 
 from the classic authorities. 
 
 To this he added, that " the moderns are not less 
 convinced than the ancients of this superior power (of 
 the ideal beauty) existing in the art; nor less sensible 
 
 ^m.
 
 il2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 of its eflPecls. Every language has adopted terms ex- 
 pressive of this excellence. The gusto grande of the 
 Italians, the beau ideal of the French, and the great 
 style, genius, and taste, among the English, are but 
 different appellations of the same tiling. It is this in- 
 tellectual dignity, they say, that ennobles the painter's 
 art; that lays the line between him and the mere me- 
 chanic; and produces those great effects in an instant, 
 which eloquence and poetry, by slow and repeated 
 efforts, are scarcely able to attain." 
 
 He confessed, indeed, that it is not easy to define in 
 what this great style consists ; nor to describe, by 
 words, the proper means of acquiring it, even if the 
 mind of the student should be highly capable of such 
 an acquisition ; for if taste or genius were to be taught 
 by rules, then they would no longer be taste or genius. 
 Still, although there neither are, nor can be, any pre- 
 cise invariable rules for the exercise or the acquisition 
 of these great qualities, yet, as he expressed himself, 
 they always operate in proportion to our attention in 
 observing the works of nature, to our skill in selecting, 
 and to our care in digesting, methodizing, and com- 
 paring our observations. 
 
 He therefore recommended a long and strict ex- 
 amination both of the beauties and defects of nature, 
 by which means the student is enabled to acquire a 
 just idea of her beautiful forms, and to correct nature 
 by herself, her imperfect state by her more perfect. 
 
 The eye being thus enabled to distinguish the 
 beauties and deficiencies, as well as the deformities, 
 the judgment is then enabled, as he observed, to make 
 out an abstract idea of the general forms of things, 
 more perfect than any one original, " and wliat may 
 seem a paradox, the student learns to design naturally 
 by drawing his figures unlike to any one object.*' 
 
 This then, he described to be " Ideal Beauty," the 
 idea of the perfect state of nature, that great leading 
 principle by which works of genius are conducted ; an 
 idea which has acquired, and which seems to have a 
 riglit to the epithet of divine, " as it may be said to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 113 
 
 preside like a supreme judge over all the productions 
 of nature, appearing to be possessed of the will and 
 intention of the Creator, as far as they regard the 
 external form of living beings. '^ He added, that when 
 a man once possesses this idea in its perfection, there 
 is no danger but that he will be sufficiently warmed by 
 it himself^ and also be enabled to warm and ravish 
 every one else. 
 
 With respect to fashion, he laid it down as a prin- 
 ciple, that however the meclianie and ornamental 
 arts may be obliged, or even permitted, to sacrifice to 
 her, yet she must be entirely excluded from any 
 control over, the art of painting: wherefore the painter 
 must never mistake this capricious changeling for tlie 
 genuine offspring of nature, but must divest himself of 
 all prejudices in favour of liis age and country ; and 
 must even disregard all local and temporary orna- 
 ments, looking only on those general habits which are 
 every where and always the same, addressing his 
 works to the people of every age and every country, 
 and even calling upon posterity to be his spectators. 
 
 Here he took occasion to reprobate the ridiculous 
 frippery of the style of French painting in the time of 
 Louis XIV. but acknowledged, that to avoid the 
 errors of that school, and to retain the true simplicity 
 of nature, is still a task more difficult than may appear 
 at first sight; as the prejudices in favour of the fashions 
 and customs to which we have been used, and whieli 
 are justly called a second nature, make it often diffi- 
 cult to distinguish that which is natural from that 
 which is the result of education. Our only guides and 
 instructors, then, he asserted, are to be found among 
 the ancients ; by a careful study of whose works, the 
 artist and the man of taste will be enabled to form a 
 just conception of the real simplicity of nature : to 
 which he added, *^ they will suggest many observa- 
 tions which would probably escape you, if your study 
 were confined to nature alone, and indeed, I cannot 
 help suspecting, that in this instance the ancients had 
 tin easier task than the moderns. They had, probably,
 
 114 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 little or nothing to unlearn, as tlieir manners were 
 nearly approaching to this desirable simplicity; while 
 the modern artist, before iie can see the truth of things, 
 is obliged to remove a veil, with wliicli the fashion of 
 the times has thought proper to cover her." 
 
 Had Sir Joshua, however, happily lived until the 
 present times, he would perhaps have omitted the 
 latter observation! 
 
 After some very judicious observations on the 
 imitators of nature in her loAvest forms, and justly 
 reprobating them in some instances, he concluded his 
 admirable discourse, by warning his hearers not to 
 consider him as countenancing a careless or undeter- 
 mined manner of painting ; adding, that although the 
 painter is certainly to overlook the accidental dis- 
 criminations of nature, yet he is still to exhibit 
 distinctly and Avith precision, the general forms of 
 things ; wherefore a firm and determined outline is one 
 of the characteristics of the great style in painting : to 
 which he subjoined the important truism, that he who 
 possesses the knowledge of the exact form which 
 every part of nature ought to have, will be fond of 
 expressing that knowledge with correctness and Jpre- 
 cision in all his works. 
 
 It was in the year 1771 > that I was first placed un- 
 der the tuition of Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom I 
 was introduced, and strongly recommended by my 
 good and much respected friend Dr. John Mudge. If 
 I might now be suffered to say a little of myself, I 
 would declare that I feel it next to impossible to ex- 
 press the pleasure I received in breathing, if it may 
 be so said, in an atmosphere of art; having until this 
 period been entirely debarred, not only from the prac- 
 tice of the art itself, but even from the sight of pic- 
 tures of any excellence, as the county of Denvon at 
 that time did not abound with specimens, and even 
 those few which are scattered about that country I 
 Lad no opportunity of ever seeing; and as from the 
 earliest period of my being able to make any obser- 
 vation., I had conceived him to be the greatest paiutef
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 115 
 
 that ever lived, it may be conjectured what I felt when 
 I found myself iu his liouse as his scholar : but as the 
 admiration and respect which I now honestly confess 
 I always felt for him, render me liable to be consider- 
 ed as a partial judge of liis various merits, tliis con- 
 sideration inclines me to give tlie authorities of otiiers, 
 in preference to my own, whenever it will serve my 
 purpose — of such as knew him well, and may be con- 
 sidered as less prejudiced encomiasts. 
 
 As one prominent cause of Sir Joshua's cultivating 
 the very best society, and which almost may be said 
 to have been domesticated with him, Mr. Malone is 
 certainly correct in stating, that iinding how little 
 time he could spare from his profession, for the pur- 
 pose of acquiring, and adding to his knowledge from 
 books, he very early and wisely resolved to partake, 
 as much as possible, the society of all the ingenious 
 and learned men of his own time, iu consequence of 
 which, and his unassuming and gentle manner, and 
 refined habits, his table, for above thirty years, exhib- 
 ited an assemblage of all the talents of Great Britain 
 and Ireland ; there being, during that period, scarce a 
 person in the three kingdoms distinguished for his 
 attainments in literature or the arts, or for his exer- 
 tions at the bar, in the senate, or the field, who was 
 not occasionally found there. 
 
 In addition to this, it has been stated by the author 
 of " Testimonies,'* to his genius, that the circle of his 
 acquaintance, owing to the celebrity of his name, was 
 very extended ; that many illustrious foreigners were 
 on a footing of personal intimacy with him; and that 
 he was resorted to by persons of tlie highest quality, 
 who revered his genius as much as tliey respected the 
 excellence of his private character. Theucc, his house 
 was long the resort of excellence of every kind, of the 
 learned, the elegant, tlie polite, in short all that were 
 CDiinent for worth, or distinguished by genius. ^' From 
 such connections, his mind, rich In its own store, re- 
 ceived an accession of most extensive knowledge, and
 
 116 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 an inexhaustible treasure for conversation. He was 
 rich in observation, anecdote and intelligence." 
 
 To return to Mr. Malone's account of him, from 
 Avhich I trust my readers will excuse the transcrip- 
 tion of a note, I shall here insert his observation, that 
 the " JS^octes Coenceque Diiem enjoyed at his table, 
 (as Mr. Boswell in the dedication prefixed to his Life 
 of Johnson, has described it,) will be long remember- 
 ed by those who had the happiness to partake of 
 them ; but the remembrance must always be accom- 
 panied with regret, when it is considered, that the 
 death of their amiable and illustrious host has left a 
 chasm in society, and that no such common centre of 
 union for the accomplished and the learned now 
 exists, or is likely soon to exist, in London." 
 
 The observation above alluded to, of Mr. Bos- 
 welFs, is to the following purport. ^^ If there be a 
 pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of a 
 contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity, 
 not altogether inexcusable, in appearing fully sensi- 
 ble of it, where can I find one, in complimenting 
 whom I can with more general approbation gratify 
 those feelings? Your excellence, not only in the art 
 over which you have long presided with unrivalled 
 fame, but also in philosophy and elegant literature, is 
 well known to the present, and will continue to be the 
 admiration of future ages. Your equal and placid 
 temper, your variety of conversation, your true polite- 
 ness, by which you are so amiable in private society, 
 and that enlarged hospitality which has long made 
 your house a common centre of union for the great, 
 the accomplished, the learned, and the ingenious ; all 
 these qualities, I can, in perfect confidence of not being 
 accused of flattery, ascribe to you." 
 
 This warm and friendly tribute to the excellence of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds was written in 1791, a very 
 short period before _ his lamented death ; but I trust 
 I shall not be accused of premature anachronism by 
 its insertion in this place;, to which it so particularly 
 refers.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. U*' 
 
 To such testimonies as those my own suflVa2;e is 
 unnecessary : I shall therefore only observe, that, 
 among the many advantages which were to i)e gained 
 in the house of Sir Joshua Reynolds, one of the most 
 considerable certainly was, the opportunity of im. 
 provement from the familiar intercourse which he thus 
 perpetually kept up with the most eminent men of his 
 time for genius and learning. 
 
 A few anecdotes of some of those persons I liavo 
 collected, but have related only such as are new and 
 not to be found in any otiier writer; for of the illustri» 
 ous dead even the slightest memorials are ever re- 
 ceived with a degree of satisfaction : and though but 
 trifles in themselves, yet as they relate to distinguish- 
 ed characters, we consider them as a kind of relics, 
 and attend to each little circumstance with the same 
 religious enthusiasm as the devotee follows the foot- 
 steps of his saint. They help to transport the mind 
 back to the very period in which the occurrences were 
 passing, and for a time we seem to be existing in a 
 former age. Therefore, without further apology, I 
 shall give those Avhich at this time occur to my recol- 
 lection. 
 
 Dr. Johnson being in company with Sir Josliua 
 and his sister, Miss Reynolds, and the conversation 
 turning on morality; Sir Joshua said, he did not 
 think there was in the world any man completely 
 wicked. 
 
 Johnson answered " 1 do not know what you mean 
 by completely wicked." 
 
 " I mean," returned Sir Joshua, " a man lost to 
 all sense of shame." Dr. Johnson replied, that, '• to 
 be completely wicked a man must be also lost to all 
 sense of conscience." 
 
 Sir Joshua said, he thought it was exactly the same^ 
 he could see uo difference. 
 
 ^' What!" said Johnson, " can you see no differ- 
 ence? I am ashamed to hear you or any body utter 
 such nonsense; when the one relates to men only, the 
 other to God!"
 
 118 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Miss Reynolds tlicn observed, that when sliame 
 was lost, conscience was nearly gone. 
 
 Johnson agreed that her conclusion was very just. 
 
 Dr. Johnson was displeased if he supposed himself 
 at any time made the object of idle curiosity. When 
 Miss lleynolds once desired him to dine at Sir 
 Joshua's, on a day fixed upon by herself, he readily 
 accepted the invitation; yet having doubts as to the 
 importance of her companions, or of her reasons for 
 inviting him, he added, at the same time, '^ But I will 
 not be made a show of.'' 
 
 James Mac Ardell, the mezzotinto engraver, having 
 taken a very good print from the portrait of Rubens, 
 came with it one morning to Sir Joshua Reynolds, to 
 inquire if he could inform him particularly of the many 
 titles to which Rubens had a right, in order to inscribe 
 them properly under his print; saying, he believed 
 that Rubens had been knighted by the kings of 
 France, Spain and England ; was secretary of state 
 in Flanders, and to the privy council in Spain; and 
 had been employed in a ministerial capacity from the 
 court of Madrid to the court of London, to negociate 
 a treaty of peace between the two crowns, and that he 
 was also a magistrate of Antwerp, &c. 
 
 Dr. Johnson happened to be in the room with Sir 
 Joshua at the time, and understanding Mac Ardell's 
 inquiry, interfered rather abruptly, saying, " Pooh ! 
 pooh! put his name alone under the print, Peter Paul 
 Rubens: that is full sufficient and more than all the 
 rest.-'' 
 
 This advice of the Doctor's \yas accordingly fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 At the time that Miss Linley was in the highest 
 esteem as a public singer. Dr. Johnson came in the 
 evening to drink tea with Miss Reynolds, and when 
 he entered the room, she said to him, ^* See, Dr. John^ 
 son, what a preference I give to your company, for I 
 had an olfer of a place in a box at the Oratorio, to hear 
 Miss Linley : but I would rather sit with you tha.n 
 hear Miss Linley sing." ^^ And I, Madam," replied
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. Hg 
 
 Johnson, " would rather sit with you than sit upon a 
 throne." 
 
 The Doctor would not be surpassed even in a 
 trifling compliment. 
 
 Several ladies being in company with Dr. Johnson, 
 it was remarked by one of them, that a learned woman 
 was by no means a rare character in the present age : 
 when Johnson replied, "^ 1 have known a great many 
 ladies who knew Latin, but very few who know 
 English." 
 
 A lady observed, that women surpassed men in 
 epistolary correspondence. Johnson said, '' I do not 
 know that." " At least," said the lady, " they are 
 most pleasing when they are in conversation." — " No, 
 Madam," returned Johnson, *"■ I think they are most 
 pleasing when they hold their tongues." 
 
 A friend of Dr. Johnson's, in conversation with 
 him, was lamenting the disagreeable situation in 
 which those persons stood who were eminent for their 
 witticisms, as they were perpetually expected to be 
 saying good things — that it was a heavy tax on 
 them. 
 
 " It is, indeed," said Johnson, " a very heavy tax 
 on them : a tax which no man can pay who does not 
 steal." 
 
 A prosing dull companion was making a long har- 
 angue to Dr. Johnson upon the Piinick war, in which 
 he gave nothing either new or entertaining, Johnson, 
 afterwards, speaking of the circumstance to a friend, 
 said, " Sir I soon withdrew ray attention from him, 
 and thought of Tom Thumb." 
 
 A young gentlemen, who was bred to the Bar, 
 having a desire to be in company with Dr. Johnson, 
 was, in consequence, invited by Miss Reynolds, Sir 
 Joshua's sister, to meet him at their house. When the 
 interview took place, they fell into deep conversation 
 on politics, and the diiferent governments in Europe, 
 particularly that of Venice. Miss Reynolds, who re- 
 lated the anecdote, said, that as it was'a subject which 
 she neitiier liked or understood, she did not attend to
 
 120 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tlie conversation, except to hear that tlie young man 
 was humbly making his inquiries to gain all possible 
 information from the profound knowledge of Dr. John- 
 son; when her attention was suddenly attracted by the 
 Doctor exclaiming in a very loud and peremptory 
 tone of voice, *' Yes, Sir. I know very well that all 
 Republican rascals think as you do!'^ 
 
 One morning when Garrick paid a visit to Sir 
 Josliua, in the course of conversation he was very 
 freely giving his opinion upon an eminent author of 
 that time; he particularly condemned his dramatic 
 works, respecting which he expressed himself in these 
 words: '* Damn his dish-clout face; his plays would 
 never do for the stage if I did not cook them up and 
 make prologues and epilogues for him, so that they 
 go down with the public.*' He also added, " he 
 hates you, Sir Joshua, because you do not admire 
 the painter whom he considers as a second ('or- 
 regio." " Who is that?" replied Sir Joshua. " Why, 
 his Corregio,'' answered Garrick, " is Romney tlie 
 painter !*' 
 
 I remember to have heard Garrick complain that it 
 was a very great fatigue to him to dine in company so 
 frequently as his interest seemed to require. From 
 hence we may conclude, tliat he considered himself as 
 under the necessity of being a very delightful com- 
 panion, which he certainly was: but had he been 
 content to be like other persons at table, it would 
 liave then been no fatigue to him. On the same ac- 
 count he avoided ever going to a masquerade in any 
 specific personification, as that would have involved 
 liim in the diflBculty of supporting his character as a 
 wit. 
 
 Sir Joshua had given to Dr. Johnson a copy of 
 that portrait now at Knowle, the seat of the Duke of 
 Dorset, in which the Doctor is represented with his 
 hands held up, and in his own short hair; it is nearly 
 a profile, and there has been a print taken from it, 
 which portrait the Doctor notices this year iu the fol- 
 lowing letter :
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 121 
 
 •• TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, IN LEICESTER-FIELDS. 
 <* DEAR SIR, 
 
 " When I came to Lichfield, 1 found that my 
 portrait had been much visited, and much admired. 
 Every man has a lurking wisli to appear considerable 
 in his native place; and I was pleased witli the digni- 
 ty conferred by such a testimony of your regard. 
 
 ^' Be pleased, therefore, 
 
 " To accept the thanks of, Sir, 
 
 ^' Your most obliged and humble serv't. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson. 
 « Ashbourn in Derbyshire, July 17, 1771. 
 " Compliments to Miss Reynolds." 
 
 Dr. Johnson knew nothing of the art of painting 
 either in theory or practice, which is one proof that 
 he could not be the author of Sir Joshua's discourses ; 
 indeed his imperfect sight was some excuse for his 
 total ignorance in that department of study. Once 
 being at dinner at Sir Joslma's, in company witli 
 many painters, in the course of conversation Richard- 
 son's Treatise on painting happened to be mentioned. 
 " Ah !" said Johnson, *^ 1 remember when I was at 
 college, I by chance found that book on my stairs : I 
 took it up with me to my cliamber and read it through, 
 and truly I did not think it possible to say so much 
 upon the art." Sir Joshua, who could not hear dis- 
 tinctly, desired of one of the company to be informed 
 what Johnson had said; and it being repeated to him 
 so loud that Johnson heard it, the Doctor seemed hurt, 
 and added, " But I did not wish. Sir, that Sir Joshua 
 should have been told what I then said."
 
 12;3 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tlie latter speech of Jolinson denotes a delicacy in 
 him, and an unwillingness to offend : and it evinces a 
 part of his character ^vllich he has not had the credit of 
 having ever possessed. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins also observes very well of John- 
 son, that of the beauties of painting, notwithstanding 
 the many eulogiums on the art, which, after the com- 
 mencement of his friendship with Sir Joshua, he 
 inserted in his writings, he had not the least concep- 
 tion; indeed he said once to Sir John, that in his 
 "whole life he was never capable of discerning the 
 least resemblance of any kind, betw een a picture and 
 the subject it was designed to represent. 
 
 Those who wish to know more of his sentiments 
 upon the art, may find a specimen in an anecdote 
 related by Mrs. Piozzi on that subject, in the 98tli 
 page of her book. 
 
 JBut I shall give, as, perhaps, a more pleasing sub- 
 ject, some other ideas of Dr. Johnson, '^ that majestic 
 teacher of moral and religious wisdom," who, in sev- 
 eral places, thus speaks of portraits; 
 
 *• Genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures, 
 and the art of the painter of portraits is often lost in 
 the obscurity of this subject. But it is in painting as 
 in life; what is greatest is not always best. I should 
 grieve to see lieijnolds ti-ansfcr to heroes and to god- 
 desses, to empty splendor and to airy iiction, that art, 
 which is now employed in diffusing friendship, in 
 renewing tenderness, in quickening the affections of 
 the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead.'* 
 
 And again, '^ Every man is ahvays present to him- 
 self, and has, therefore, little need of his own resem- 
 blance; nor can desire it but for the sake of those 
 whom he loves, and by whom he hopes to be remem- 
 bered. This use of the art is a natural and reasonable 
 consequence of affection ; and though, like other 
 human actions, it is often complicated with pride, yet 
 even such pride is more laudable tiiau that by which 
 palaces are covered with pictures, that, however
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 123 
 
 excellent, neither imply the owners virtue, nor ex- 
 cite it.^^ 
 
 This is certainly the best apology for portrait that 
 has ever been given ; and to it I shall here add a few 
 observations of ray own on this department of painting. 
 
 Under this view of art so well described by John- 
 son, it is that portrait may assume a dignity: and 
 certain it is that all those portraits which have beea 
 executed by the higher order of painters have it; as 
 we may perceive in them how much the genius of the 
 artist has been able to discern, and faithfully to repre- 
 sent that which was characteristic and valuable in the 
 individual wliich was his model, and thereby clearly 
 demonstrated the possession of high powers. 
 
 But the reason why portrait is treated with so much 
 contempt, is because there are more bad pictures of this 
 class preserved than of any other branch in the art, on 
 account of their local value, being the resemblance of 
 some favourite object, whereas, the bad performances 
 in any other branch of art having no value, are neglect- 
 ed and perish. It may be observed also, that more 
 bad portrait painters get employment than -bad pain- 
 ters of any other class ; which adds to the comparative 
 plenty of those works : and this excessive plenty of 
 bad portraits, from the above causes, has, in the end, 
 given a degraded rank to that department. But could 
 we see in portraiture all the qualities displayed of 
 which it is capable, it would be found to contain many 
 of the highest merits of even history itself; and those 
 who treat it slightly surely cannot have examined it 
 with a sufficient attention nor have had a clear idea of 
 all its difficulties and merits. It appears to me to be 
 in many respects similar to that of writing a distinct 
 character of an individual, which, when it is done 
 with justice and nice discrimination, I apprehend to 
 be a greater effort of genius than to write the life or 
 memoir. 
 
 Bat the department of portrait alone may be divided 
 into different classes as practised by different profes- 
 sors according to their abilities and inclinations, 
 
 R
 
 1£4 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Three are distinct, for instance ; and first those por- 
 traits which are true but not ingenious, where their 
 merit consists in a careful endeavour at similitude to 
 the person represented, but in a manner dry, laboured, 
 and tasteless : secondly, those wliich are ingenious but 
 not true ; in tiiese much skill is often to be found, but 
 tlicn the pure imitation of nature lias been sacrificed to 
 ideal graces and adscititious beauties ; Lely and Kneller 
 are instances; the consequence of which is, that man- 
 ner and sameness become the poor substitute for truth, 
 variety, and nature. Such works are too much like 
 each other to be like any thing else, and create no in- 
 terest: but that order of portrait which does honour to 
 the department is both true and ingenious, as may be 
 exemplified in tiie works of Rembrandt, Velasquez, 
 Vandyke, Reynolds, and Titian. 
 
 After all that has been said, there can be no doubt 
 but that a decided superiority must be given to his- 
 torical painting, when it is of the highest order, as it 
 requires, of necessity, a much greater mass of acquired 
 knowledge of every kind: also, because that in it is 
 contained a large portion of the excellence of portrait, 
 if not the whole: and when portraiture is compared 
 with grand composition, it bears but as a part, and, of 
 consequence, a part is mucb easier to accomplish than 
 a whole. 
 
 Yet I will venture to say, that, in certain instances, 
 1 have seen groupes of portraits by Titian which have 
 contained the essence of history ; and history by 
 Raffaelle which contained the essence of portrait: 
 and it can scarcely be denied, that portrait, in its 
 greatest degree of perfection, becomes a species of 
 history, as it must possess its first merits, character, 
 and expression; and that history is not degraded by 
 the introduction of dignified portrait. Therefore I am 
 of opinion that it is a most useful and necessary part 
 of the practice of an historical painter, that he some- 
 times should recur to the close imitation of nature by 
 employing himself in portrait, and not survey it with 
 an improper pride. A strong proof of an ingenious anfl
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 1^5 
 
 speculative mind is its being able to gain instruction 
 from every quarter, even from whence it might be least 
 expected. 
 
 While on the subject of portrait, I may be allowed 
 to observe, that it is a very desirable tiling that the 
 name should be written on the back of every portrait, 
 signifying the person it represents. 
 
 I reme.nber a letter from Mr. Locke to Cullings, of 
 which the following is an extract: 
 
 " Pray get Sir Godfrey to write on the back of 
 Lady Marsham's picture, Lady Marsham; and on 
 the back of mine, John Locke, I7OL This he did to 
 Mr. Molyneaux's : it is necessary to be done, or else 
 the pictures of private persons are lost in two or three 
 generations ; and so the picture loses its value, it not 
 being known whom it was made to represent." 
 
 Mr. Locke died about a month after this letter was 
 written. 
 
 Sir Joshua himself, indeed, never did tliis, nor even 
 mark his own name, except in the instance of Mrs. 
 Siddons's portrait as the Tragic Muse, wiien he wrote 
 his name upon the hem of her garment. 
 
 I remember to have heard General Paoli declare, 
 that lie could decide on the character and disposition 
 of a man whose letter he had seen. 
 
 Notwithstanding this assertion may be carried 
 something beyond what we may be inclined to allow, 
 yet it is not destitute of truth to such as arc nice dis- 
 criminators of character. 
 
 If such is possible to be the case from merely see. 
 ing a letter, how much more information may we sup- 
 pose to be drawn from a fine portrait ; and in this par- 
 ticular excellence the portraits of Reynolds most cer- 
 tainly surpass all other portraits existing in the world. 
 This brings to my remembrance the anecdote told of 
 Bernini, the famous sculptor, that Charles the First 
 having a desire that Bernini should make his bust, 
 sent over his portrait, painted by Vandyke, which ex- 
 hibited three views of his face ; and when the picture 
 was presented to Bernini, who did not know whom it
 
 126 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 representetl, he immediately exclaimed, "^ My God ! 
 whose portrait is this! — the man will not come to a 
 timely end/^ 
 
 In the course of this year, Sir Joshua took another 
 trip to Paris, from which he had scarcely returned 
 when Mr. Bennet Langton renewed, in a very press- 
 ing manner, an invitation which he had given to hini 
 and Goldsmith to spend some part of the autumn with 
 hini and his lady, the Countess of llothes, at their 
 seat in Lincolnshire. Witli this obliging request, how- 
 ever, he was unable to comply, and Goldsmith in a 
 letter to Mr. Langton, declining the invitation on the 
 part of both, says, " Reynolds is just returned from 
 Paris, and finds himself now in the case of a truant, 
 that must make up for his idle time by diligence ; we 
 have therefore agreed to postpone our journey till 
 next summer." 
 
 In fact, at this period Sir Joshua may be said to 
 have been at the zenith of his eminence, as we see 
 him now employed in pourtraying th« most illustrious 
 personages in every different department, whilst his 
 intimacy was sedu»usly sought after by all degrees of 
 persons. 
 
 Much of the attention which even Goldsmith per- 
 sonally met with was undoubtedly owing to the pat- 
 ronage of his admired friend ; yet Sir Joshua used to 
 say, that Goldsmith looked at, or considered, public 
 notoriety, or fame, as one great parcel, to the whole 
 of which he laid claim, and whoever partook of any 
 part of it, whether dancer, singer, slight of hand man, 
 oi* tumbler, deprived him of his right, and drew off 
 the attention of the world from himself and which he 
 was striving to gain. Notwithstanding this^ he la- 
 mented that whenever he entered into a mixed com- 
 pany, he struck a kind of awe on them, which de- 
 prived him of the enjoyment and freedom of society, 
 and which he then made it his endeavour to dispel by 
 playing wanton and childish pranks in order to bring 
 himself to the wisbed-for level.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 127 
 
 It was very soon after my first arrival in London, 
 where every thing appeared new and wonderful to me, 
 that 1 expressed to Sir Joshua my impatient cnriosily 
 to see Dr. Goldsmith, and he promised I should do 
 so on the first opportunity. Soon afterwards Gold- 
 smith came to dine with him, and immediately on my 
 entering the room, Sir Joshua, with a designed ab- 
 ruptness, said to me, " This is Dr. Goldsmith : pray 
 why did you wish to seehini'?" I was much confused 
 by the suddenness of the question, and answered, in 
 my hurry, '• Because he is a notable man." This, in 
 one sense of the word, was so very contrary to the 
 character and conduct of Goldsmith, that Sir Joshua 
 burst into a hearty laugh, and said, that Goldsmith 
 should, in future, always be called the notable man. 
 
 What I meant, however, to say was, that he was a 
 man of note, or eminence. 
 
 He appeared to me to be very unafiected and good- 
 natured ; but he was totally ignorant of tlie art of 
 painting, and this he often confessed with much 
 gaiety. 
 
 It has often been said of Goldsmith, that he was 
 ever desirous of being the object of attention in all 
 companies where he was present; which the follow- 
 ing anecdote may serve to prove. 
 
 On a summer's excursion to the continent he accom- 
 panied a lady and her two beautiful daughters into 
 France and Flanders, and often expressed a little dis- 
 pleasure at perceiving that more attention was paid to 
 them than to himself. On their entering a town, I 
 think Antwerp, the populace surrounded the door of 
 the hotel at which they alighted, and testified a desire 
 to see those beautiful young women ; and the ladies, 
 willing to gratify them, came into a balcony at the 
 front of the house, and Goldsmith with them; but 
 perceiving that it was not himself who was the object 
 of admiration, he presently withdrew, with evident 
 signs of mortification, saying, as he went out, ^' There 
 are places where I am the object of admiration also.''
 
 128 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 One (lay when Drs. Goldsmith anil Johnson were 
 at dinner with Sir Joshua, a poem, by a poet already 
 alluded to, was presented to Sir Joshua, by his ser- 
 vant, iVoni the autlior. Goldsmith immediately laid 
 hold of it, and began to read it, and at every line cut 
 almost through the paper with his tinger nail, crying 
 
 out, *^ Wiiat d d nonsense is this ;'^ w hen Sir 
 
 Joshua caught it out of his hands, saying, ^' No, no, 
 don't do so; you shall not spoil my book, neither:" 
 for the Doctor could not bear to hear of another's fame. 
 
 Sir Joshua was always cautious to preserve an un- 
 blemished character, and careful not to make any man 
 his enemy. 1 remember when he was told of some 
 very indiscreet speech or action of Goldsmith, he 
 quickly said, '•' AVhat a fool he is thus to commit him- 
 self, when he has so much more cause to be careful of 
 his reputation than I have of mine !" well recollecting 
 that even the most trivial circumstance w hich tells 
 against an eminent person, will be remembered as 
 well as those in his favour ; and that the world watch 
 those who are distinguished for their abilities with a 
 jealous eye. 
 
 Sir William Tem^ile, in his Memoirs, relates a sur- 
 prizing instance of sagacity in a Macaw, one of the 
 parrot genus of the largest kind, which occurred 
 under his own observation. His relation is, indeed, a 
 very wonderful one ; but I am the more apt to give it 
 credit from bfeing myself a witness of the following 
 instance of apparent intellect in a bird of this species, 
 and therefore can vouch for its truth : at the same time 
 I hope to be excused for giving what I consider mere- 
 ly as a curious circumstance, and not to incur the 
 accusation of vanity, in this instance at least, by 
 making a weak endeavour to extol my own poor 
 work, for very poor it was. 
 
 In the early part of the time that I passed with Sir 
 Joshua as his scholar, I had, for the sake of practice, 
 painted the portrait of one of the female servants : but 
 my performance had no other merit than that of being 
 a strong likeness.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 129 
 
 Sir Joshua had a large raacaw, which he often 
 introduced into his pictures, as may he seen from 
 several priuts. This bird was a great favourite, and 
 was always kept in the dining parlour, w here he be- 
 came a nuisance to this same house-maid, whose 
 department it was to clean the room after Isim ; of 
 course, they were not upon very good terms with each 
 other. 
 
 The portrait, when finished, was brought into the 
 parlour, one day after dinner, to be shown to the 
 family, that they might judge of the progress I had 
 made. It was placed against a chair, while tlie macaw 
 was in a distant part of the room, so that he did not 
 immediately perceive the picture as he walked about 
 on the floor ; but when lie turned round and saw the 
 features of his enemy, he quickly spread his wings, 
 and in great fury ran to it, and stretched himself up to 
 bite at the face. Finding, however, that it did not 
 move, he then bit at the hand, but perceiving it remain 
 inanimate, he proceeded to examine the picture be- 
 hind, and then, as if he had satisfied his curiosity, 
 left it, and walked again to a distant part of the room ; 
 but whenever he turned about, and again saw tlie 
 picture, he would, with the same action of rage, re- 
 peatedly attack it. The experiment was afterwards 
 repeated, on various occasions, in the presence of 
 Edmund Burke, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Goldsmith, and 
 most of Sir Joshua's friends, and never failed of suc- 
 cess; and what made it still more remarkable was, 
 that when tlie bird was tried by any other portrait, he 
 took no notice of it whatever. 
 
 On the 10th of December in this year, Sir Joshua 
 delivered his fourth discourse, whose object was to 
 give a vie\v of those general ideas from whence arises 
 that [)residing principle which regulates the art of 
 Painting, under the various heads of Invention, Ex- 
 pression, Colouring, and Drapery; after which he 
 took a view of the two separate styles, the Grand and 
 the Ornamental, in Historical Composition, specifying 
 the scliools in which examples of each were to be
 
 130 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 foiiiul : to this he added a sketch of what he desiguated 
 as the Composite style formed from local hahits and 
 customs, as well as on a partial observation of nature. 
 
 To enter into any thing like a specific detail of 
 subjects so grand and so extensive, would be to copy 
 the whole of this excellent discourse, which may, in 
 fact, be compared to a cabinet of gems, as combining, 
 Avifchin its circumscribed limits, every thing rich and 
 rare: yet as my plan requires me to give a view of his 
 opinions, as well as of his actions, through a life 
 nia<%:ed with the excellencies both of the man and the 
 painter, I trust I shall be indulged in embodying a 
 few of his well digested ideas into this part of my 
 work, directed rather to the reader of taste than to 
 the artist. 
 
 To form a judgment from his opening, one must 
 see immediately the claim whicii Painting has upon 
 the human mind ; as he lays it down as a principle that 
 the value and rank of every art is in proportion to the 
 mental labour employed in it, or the mental pleasure 
 produced by it; wherefore, as this principle is ob- 
 served or neglected, the profession of the painter be- 
 comes either a liberal art, or merely a mechanical 
 trade. 
 
 This principle he even considered as discriminative 
 in the art itself, stating, that this exertion of mind, 
 which is the only circumstance that truly ennobles the 
 art, makes the great distinction between the Koman 
 and Venetian schools. 
 
 With respect to Invention in painting, he did not 
 apply that term merely to the invention of the subject, 
 such being for the most part, supplied by the historian 
 or the poet : but still the choice must rest with the 
 artist, for as no subject can be proper that is not gen- 
 erally interesting, so it ought to be either some emi- 
 nent instance of heroic action, or of heroic suflering, 
 of spirit or of fortitude, accompanied, either in the 
 action or in the object, by something in which man- 
 kind are universally concerned, and which strikes 
 powerfully upon the public sympathy.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 131 
 
 luvention, then, he defiued by observing, that when- 
 ever a story is related, every man forms a picture in 
 his mind of the action and expression of the persons 
 employed; and therefore what we call invention in a 
 painter, is the power of representing this mental pic- 
 ture on canvas. 
 
 Minuteness of representation in the concomitant 
 parts of a story, he thought unnecessary, any further 
 than that they should not he unnatural, but judicious- 
 ly contrived, so as not to strike the spectator more 
 than they did himself at the first conception of his com- 
 position : for as the general idea constitutes real ex- 
 cellence, so all smaller things, however perfect in 
 their way, must be sacrificed without mercy to the 
 greater. To every kind of painting, he considered 
 this rule as applicable; particularly in portraits, where 
 the grace, and even the likeness consist more in 
 taking the general air, than in observing the exact 
 similitude of every feature. 
 
 In this part of his discourse he gave some hints by 
 no means useless to every day connoisseurs, saying, 
 that we know well enough, when we analyze a pic- 
 ture, the difficulty and subtilty with which an artist 
 adjusts the back-ground, drapery, and masses of 
 light; we know that a considerable part of the grace 
 and effect of his picture depends upon them ; but then 
 this art is so much concealed, even to a judicious eye, 
 that no remains of any of these subordinate parts occur 
 to the memory when the picture is not present. 
 
 As the great end of the art is to strike the imagina- 
 tion, so the painter is to make no ostentation of the 
 means, by which this is done ; the spectator is only to 
 feel the result in his bosom : an inferior artist, indeed, 
 he acknowledged, is unwilling that any part of his 
 industry should be lost upon the spectator; he takes 
 as much pains to discover, as the greatest artist does 
 to conceal, the marks of his subordinate assiduity. 
 Thus in works of the lower kind, every thing appears 
 studied, and encumbered : it is all boastful art and 
 open affectation. ♦'• The ignorant often part from such
 
 133 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pictures with wonder in their mouths, and indifference 
 in their hearts!" 
 
 In Expression, Sir Joshua considered the painter 
 as having difficulties to contend with, very different 
 from those of the poet or tlie historian : he has hut 
 one sentence to utter, hut one moment to exhibit or 
 embody; he cannot expatiate, or impress the mind 
 with a progression of circumstances which excite 
 veneration for the hero or the saint : he has no means 
 of giving an idea of the dignity of the mind, but by 
 that external appearance which grandeur of thought 
 does generally, thougli not always, impress on the 
 countenance, and by that correspondence of figure to 
 sentiment and situation, which all men wish, but can- 
 not command. 
 
 As the painter, therefore, cannot make his hero talk 
 like a great man, he must make him look like one ; for 
 which reason, he ought to be well studied in the 
 analyses of those circumstances which constitute dig- 
 nity of appearance in real life : but as in Invention, 
 so likewise in Expression, care must be taken not to 
 run into particularities, and those expressions alone 
 ought to be given to the figures, which their respective 
 situations generally produce. 
 
 As a principle, alike essential to the artist and tlie 
 connoisseur, with respect to Colouring, he observed, 
 that to give a general air of grandeur at first view, all 
 trifling or artful play of little lights, or an attention to 
 a variety of tints, are to be avoided ; and that a quiet- 
 ness and simplicity must reign over the whole of a pic- 
 ture, to which a breadth of uniform and simple colour 
 will very much contribute. 
 
 In this branch of the art, he considered Grandeur 
 of Effect to be produced in two different ways, which 
 seem entirely opposed to each other; the one being the 
 reducing of tlie colours to little more than chiaro scuro, 
 as practised in the scliool of Bologna ; the other, as 
 in the Roman and Florentine schools, making the 
 colours very distinct and forcible; whilst still, the 
 presiding principle of both these manners is simplicity.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 133 
 
 For though the varied tints of the last mentioned 
 schools have not that kind of harmony which is pro- 
 duced by other means, still they have that effect of 
 grandeur which was intended. "• Perhaps these dis- 
 tinct colours strike the mind more forcibly, from there 
 not being any great union between them ; as martial 
 music, whicli is intended to rouse tlie nobler passions, 
 has its effect from its sudden and strongly marked 
 transitions from one note to another, which that style 
 of music requires; whilst in that which is intended to 
 move the softer passions, the notes imperceptibly melt 
 into one another." 
 
 In Drapery, the great painter must, as he observed, 
 adhere to the foregoing principles, carefully avoiding 
 the debasement of his conceptions with minute dis- 
 criminations of stuffs, which mark the inferior style; 
 for " with him the cloathing is neither woollen nor 
 linen, nor silk, satin, or velvet: it is drapery; it is 
 nothing more." He acknowledged, indeed, that the 
 art of disposing the foldings of the drapery, makes a 
 very considerable part of the painter's study; but that 
 to make it merely ^natural, is a mechanical operation, 
 to which neither genius nor taste are required, whilst 
 at the same time it demands the nicest judgment to 
 dispose the drapery, so as that the folds shall have an 
 easy communication, gracefully following each other, 
 with such natural negligence as to look like the effect 
 of chance, and at the same time shew the figure undef 
 it to the utmost advantage. 
 
 In adverting to the various schools, he considered 
 the Roman, Florentine, and Bolognese, as the three 
 great ones in the epic style, whilst the best of the 
 French painters were to be considered as a colony 
 from the former of the three; but the Venetian, Flem- 
 ish, and Dutch schools, he ranked beneath them, as 
 all professing to depart from the great pur[)oses of 
 painting, and catching at applause by inferior qual- 
 ities. 
 
 It will be readily understood from this, that he es- 
 teemed the ornamental style as of inferior considera-
 
 13* MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tion in coniparisou with the otIicr;for as mere ele- 
 gance was their principal object, particularly in the 
 Venetian school, and as they seemed more willing to 
 dazzle than to affect, so it could be no injury to them 
 to suppose that their practice is useful only to its 
 proper end ; for as what may heighten the elegant may 
 degrade the sublime : so the simplicity, nay severity, 
 of the great manner, is almost incompatible with this 
 comparatively sensual style. 
 
 He then boldly laid it down as a maxim, that " such 
 as suppose that the great style might happily be 
 blended with the ornamental, that the simple, grave, 
 and majestic dignity of Raffaelle could unite with the 
 glow and bustle of a Paolo or Tintoret, are totally 
 mistaken. The principles by which each is attained, 
 are so contrary to each other, that they seem, in my 
 opinion, incompatible, and as impossible to exist to- 
 gether, as that in the mind the most sublime ideas 
 and the lowest sensuality should at the same time be 
 united." 
 
 To mark the distinction, therefore, more strongly 
 between the two principal styles, he added, that how- 
 ever contradictory it may be in geometry, it is yet 
 true in matters of taste, that many little things will 
 never make a great one ; that the sublime impresses 
 the mind at once with one great idea, as at a single 
 blow ; whilst the elegant may be, and is, produced 
 by repetition, by an accumulation of many minute cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 After giving a professional and philosophical view* 
 of the various schools in these styles. Sir Joshua 
 observed, that of those who have practiced the Com- 
 posite style, and have succeeded in this perilous 
 attempt, perhaps the foremost is Corregio; his style 
 being founded on modern grace and elegance, to 
 which is superadded something of the simplicity of the 
 grand style ; conspiring with which effect are breadth 
 of light and colour, the general ideas of the drapery, 
 and an uuterrupted flow of outline.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 135 
 
 He then allowed, that next to him, if not his equal, 
 was Parraegiano, whom he described as dignifying 
 the gentleness of modern effeminacy, by uniting it 
 with the simplicity of the ancients, and the grandeur 
 and severity of Michael Angelo. He confessed, in- 
 deed, that these two extraordinary men, by en- 
 deavouring to give the utmost degree of grace, liave 
 sometimes, perhaps, exceeded its boundaries, and 
 have fallen into the most hateful of all hateful qualities, 
 affectation. 
 
 Still did he adhere to the opinion that the errors of 
 genius are pardonable, at the same time that none, 
 even of the more exalted painters, are free from them ; 
 but then they have taught us, by the rectitude of their 
 general practice, to correct their own affected or 
 accidental deviation. 
 
 Sir Joshua then closed his elaborate and memora- 
 ble discourse, a discourse so well adapted to the 
 world at large as well as to artists, by shewing, 
 that works of genius and of science, if founded upon 
 the general truths of nature, will live for ever; whilst 
 those which depend upon the localities of time and 
 place, or partial vie>vs of nature, and on the fluctua- 
 tion of fashion, must inevitable fade away with those 
 circumstances whicii have raised tliem from obscurity. 
 " Present time and future, must be considered as 
 rivals, and he who solicits the one must expect to be 
 discountenanced by the other." 
 
 The fame and excellence of Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 could not fail to draw on him the animadversions of 
 those who aimed at the character of critics, and who, 
 to preserve that character, judged it necessary to mix 
 blame with their warmest praise, lest they should in- 
 cur the name of flattery, and in this they were doubt- 
 less stimulated by the good old rule, that the first part 
 of a knowing critic's duty is to discover blemishes. 
 As a specimen of this, I shall extract a passage from 
 a work published in this year, (177^,) under the title 
 of" Letters concerning the present State of England," 
 ia which the writer has blended a strange mixture of
 
 i36 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 praise and censure, and what is most remarkable in it 
 is, that the part of criticism which is the most diflRcult 
 to execute with ability, tiiat is the praise, is liere given 
 with much knowledge, discrimination, and truth, and 
 the censure, on the contrary, is either unintelligible or 
 untrue. 
 
 This passage is as follows : ^^ Reynolds is original 
 in his manner, and as bold and free in his style as 
 any painter that Italy ever produced. Freedom is, 
 indeed his principal characteristic; to this he seems to 
 sacrifice every other consideration : he has, however, 
 two manners; in one he checks the extreme freedom 
 of his dashing pencil, icorks his figures more into an 
 expression, that may, in comparison with his other 
 pieces, be called minute; in these the colouring is 
 natural and good; — f so far is a very just critique; J 
 but in his bolder, better works, the colours are graceful 
 rather than chaste; fthis is absolute nonsense ; J they 
 have the ease of drawings, and mark how little atten- 
 tion was given by the artist to make them durable. In 
 his attitudes he is generally full of grace, ease, and 
 variety; he can throw his figures at will into the bold- 
 est variations, and ventures at some postures, by 
 w hich inferior painters would invariably damn their 
 works — fan excellent remark and true. J His learn- 
 ing in his art is great — {^verij just J — and this has 
 made him slight colours too much on comparison with 
 drawing; the latter alone is certainly superior to the 
 former alone ; — f exactly the reverse is the truth J — 
 but the true beauty of fine colouring is an essential, and 
 should never be neglected. fSirJoshua^s constant aim 
 icas colour. J In a word this painter is more a man of 
 genius than an agreeable artist; — fhe was both in an 
 eminent degree; J — there is more fire than nature in 
 his works; more energy than softness; — f' no painter 
 that ever lived had more softness ; J — more ease than 
 beauty; sueli as will rather awaken knowledge than 
 kindle pleasure" — fthis is false. J 
 
 In the course of this year Sir Joshua painted a par- 
 ticular fine picture in point of expression, especially
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I37 
 
 of Resignation, and dedicated the print taken from 
 it to Dr. Goldsmith, with some lines under it quoted 
 from his poem of the Deserted Village. This 
 seems to have heen done by Sir Joshua as a return of 
 the compliment to Goldsmith, who liad dedicated 
 the poem to him: and it drew the following poetical 
 tribute from the talents of Dr. Willis, w hich, as it re- 
 lates to those circumstances attending the picture, to- 
 getlier with some tolerable criticism as well as praise^ 
 I shall insert. 
 
 " Optimum ducem naturam sequimur, 
 ■ Quod sit meritus ferat. 
 
 " Hail Painting! sweet companion of the Nine, 
 
 For thee shall Taste, the Rose, and Myrtle twine. 
 
 Amazing art! whose magic touch can throw 
 
 O'er canvas Nature's animated glow ! 
 
 Bid heroes' eyes glare with heroic fire. 
 
 And love's soft victims languish with desire. 
 
 Great nature's shade! thy mimic power can raise 
 
 The varying passions, like the poet's lays. 
 
 No more in search of science let us stray 
 
 "Where Maro sung, and Csesar bore the sway: 
 
 Britain can cherish arts ; her meadows yield 
 
 As pure au air as does the Appian field : 
 
 Our monarch reigns, the noblest of his kind, 
 
 Art's great restorer, ne'er to merit blind: 
 
 For him shall Painting lasting trophies raise, 
 
 Historic pencil tell his warlike praise; 
 
 For him shall Poesy, fir'd with Pindar's flame, 
 
 To after ages consecrate his fame : 
 
 For him, with ardour, ev'ry art shall join ; 
 
 With Alfred's name,rever'd, his blooming laurels twine 
 
 'Tis thine, Oh Reynolds I to possess the art, 
 
 By speaking canvas, to affect the heart ; 
 
 See 1 Resignation settled on that eye ; 
 
 Nature can only with thy pencil vie ! 
 
 Hail Resignation! source of true repose, 
 
 Thou best composer of all human woes: 
 
 Oh come, sweet friend ! thy balmy joys prepare ; 
 
 My genius droops, relax'd by constant care. 
 
 Thy moral picture checks my mournful strain, 
 
 Some power unseen forbids me to complain;
 
 138 MEiMOIRS OF 
 
 Tells me, kind Hope dawns sweet from yonder gloon>, 
 
 On years to come awaits a happier doom. 
 
 Clieer'd with the thought, 1 bend to lleav'n's high will j 
 
 Thy moral picture sliall support me still. 
 
 AV'here genius shines, its pleasing power I feel, 
 
 Nor strive my admiration to conceal. 
 
 Truth guides my pen, I scorn the treach'rous wiles 
 
 OF servile flattery, aftected smiles: 
 
 Trutli needs no dress to make her beauty shine, 
 
 So poets paint her naked and divine. 
 
 And genuine Taste may pleasure still acquire, 
 
 Whilst Thou canst paint, and Goldsmith tune the LyreP^ 
 
 The subject of the foregoing lines calls to ray re- 
 membrance a fragment of a little poem composed by 
 Miss F. Reynolds, youngest surviving sister of Sir 
 Joshua, which surely are possessed of a simplicity 
 and piety highly creditable to her heart. 
 
 " Youth's flow'ry paths I now no more shall tread, 
 But those of age, with horrors overspread : 
 AVhere the lorn wanderers, melancholy, slow, 
 Sad spectres, monuments of woe ! 
 Ruins of Life ! no semblance left by time. 
 No trace remaining of their manhood's prime, 
 Oppress'd with gloom, to cares and fears a prey, 
 Lonely, forlorn, they linger through the day, 
 Pursuing nought, save only to obtain 
 A little space the dregs of life to drain : 
 Tenacious still of what they ne'er enjoy, 
 Wishing to rest, and yet afraid to die ! 
 No cheerful ray illumes the dusky vale. 
 No balmy fragrance floating in the gale, 
 But dark malignant clouds, and noxious dew', 
 Hang on the cypress sad, and mournful yew: 
 In sable weeds, which flow witli solemn sweep, 
 'J'he weeping willow seems indeed to weep. 
 
 From this sad prospect of my future days, 
 Bereft of all that nature form'd to please, 
 involuntary oft I turn mine eye, 
 ^\ "here youth, and hope, and sweet affections lie ; 
 Where liberal Nature in profusion pours. 
 Rich herbage, balmy springs and fragrant flow'rs : 
 The landscape sn^iles around in beauty gav, 
 And cheers the sense with every chaim of Mav.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I39 
 
 Alas! not me to cheer — invidious Time 
 Allows me not to taste of Nature's prime; 
 Holds up his glass, and bids me mark how low, 
 How black the sand, that yet remains to flow. 
 
 Methought a veil, of lucid rays composed, 
 Disparting wide, an heav'nly form disclos'd. 
 And as the ground her beauteous foot itnprest, 
 Hope's cheerful ray seem'd kindling in my breast. 
 With winning sweetness, yet majestic air, 
 " I come," she cried, " thy gloomy soul to cheer; 
 To guide thy erring will, thy passions sooth, 
 And make the rugged paths of nature smooth, 
 That vale below that fills thy soul with dread, 
 And seems with gloom and horrors overspread, 
 Owes its appearance to thy troubled mind. 
 Deaf to the voice of truth, to reason blind: 
 'Tis I alone that can the film remove 
 That dims thy sight, and make yon gloomy grove 
 Smile with immortal fruits, and bloom with flow'rs 
 Fairer than poet's feign of Paphian bow'rs. 
 I am RELIGION, whose all-powerful ray 
 Beams on the darken'd mind celestial day; 
 Points out the path that leads to pure delight; 
 And proves this truth — iVliatever is is right .'" 
 
 The eminence of Sir Joshua was now so high, that 
 the quantity of complimentary verses which were ad- 
 dressed to him would fill a volume, and would be te- 
 dious to repeat ; but the following lines I cannot omit, 
 as I think them an excellent instance of the mock 
 heroic, though intended as very serious, and very ex- 
 quisite. Surely the Genius of Affectation is never so 
 busy, nor triumphs half so much, as when he attends 
 at the elbow of his favourite poets, and makes them 
 speak thus : 
 
 " Feel ye 
 
 What Reynolds felt when first the Vatican 
 Unbarr'd her gates, and to his raptur'd eye 
 Gave all the god-like energy that flow'd 
 From Michael's pencil" 
 
 U
 
 140 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The affectation in tliese lines appears still more 
 gross when we recur to the grand simplicity of the 
 character of inm to whom they alliule, or compare 
 them with those wiiich were last recited. 
 
 In tlie discourse delivered tliis year, (177^,) on the 
 10th of Decemhcr, Sir Joshua concluded his series of 
 remarks begun in one of the former years. 
 
 His grand object in tiiis display was to incite the 
 young students to consider the attainment of the higher 
 excellencies of the art as an acquisition of the first 
 importance, though not to the total exclusion of a 
 search after the subordinate qualitications; which, 
 however, he considered as but of minor consequence : 
 at the same time warning his hearers, tliat caution and 
 circumspection was not to be lost sight of in the eager- 
 ness of pursuit. 
 
 On this part of his subject he particularly noted, 
 that judgment was necessary not only in the acquisi- 
 tion of these excellencies, but also in their application : 
 for though many would bear to be united, and some 
 be even improved from the union ; yet still there w ere 
 others which, though perfect in themselves, were of a 
 nature so discordant with their companions, that noth- 
 ing but incongruity could be produced by their mutual 
 introduction. 
 
 And here his meaning was fully exemplified by his 
 illustrations : for laying it down as a truth, that the 
 expression o^ passion was not in unison with jierfect 
 beauty,^ all the passions producing some degree of dis- 
 tortion and deformity, even in the most beautiful coun- 
 tenances; so those that attempted to preserve beauty, 
 where strong passions ought to be considered as 
 operating powerfully upon the. personages represent- 
 ed, must inevitably sacrifice a superior excellence, as 
 Guido has done in many instances, particularly in his 
 Judith, Herodias, Andromeda, nay, even the mothers' 
 countenances in the Slaughter of the innocents, which 
 have, thus, little more expression than he has given 
 to his '* Venus attired by the Graces."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 14( 
 
 One principle which he had horc in view was to 
 guard the artist against the effects oF that false criti- 
 cism which so often marks the writings of men who 
 are not of tlie profession, who being unable to lind out 
 the real beauties of a performance, merely fni<l out 
 that which they are before-liand resolved to discover; 
 and therefore not only praise excellencies which can- 
 not with propriety exist together, but even dilate upon 
 the expression of mixed passions, a thing which his 
 accurate knowledge of the hunuui countenance and 
 Iiuman heart well knew to be a thing impossible. 
 
 He even proved his position from the theory and 
 practice of the ancients, who always described their 
 Jupiter as possessed in the aggregate of all tliose 
 great qualities which were separately enjoyed by sub- 
 ordinate deities; but yet, when they called in the aid 
 of art to represent him, they confined his character to 
 that of majesty alone, without attempting to delineate 
 the others. 
 
 At this part of his discourse he took the opportuni- 
 ty of shewing how much the great Pliny himself re- 
 sembled some of our modern connoisseurs, when, with 
 something like the cant of modern criticism, he stated 
 that the spectator might discover no less than three 
 different and distinct characters in a statue of Paris, 
 executed by the famous sculptor Euphranor, and in 
 which wet'e to be seen the dignity of a judge of the 
 goddesses, the lover of Helen, and the conqueror of 
 Achilles ; adding, " A statue in which you endeavour 
 to unite stately dignity, youthful elegance, and stern 
 valour, must surely possess none of tjiose to any great 
 degree." After this he adds, what will be best ex- 
 pressed in his own words: " I do not discourage the 
 younger students from the noble attempt of uniting all 
 the excellencies of art, but to make them aware, that, 
 besides the difficulties which attend every arduous at- 
 tempt, there is a peculiar difficulty in the choice of 
 the excellencies wdiich ought to be united. I wish yoa 
 to attend to this, that you may try yourselves, when- 
 ever you are capable of that trial, what you can_, and
 
 143 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 what you cannot do; and that instead of dissipating 
 yonr natural faculties over the immense field of possi- 
 l)le excellence, you may choose some particular walk 
 in whicli you may exercise all your powers; in order 
 each of you to be the first in his way." 
 
 In exemplification of the judicious choice of ex- 
 cellence, he observed, tliat Lodovico Caracci, in par- 
 ticular, was well acquainted with the works both of 
 Corregio and of the A^enetian painters, and also knew 
 the principles by whicli tliey produced those pleasing 
 effects which, at first glance, prepossess us so much 
 in their favour; but then he stated, that he took only 
 as much from each as would embellish, but not over- 
 power, that manly strength and energy of style which 
 form his peculiar character. 
 
 In speaking o( Stijles he also shewed, that although 
 the ornamental cannot, with propriety, be considered 
 as a principal, it is still expedient to be called in to 
 soften the harshness and mitigate the severity of the 
 great style, which latter being that of the greatest 
 masters, Michael Angelo, and liaffaelle, is principal- 
 ly to be found in fresco paintings, a mode of execution 
 which excludes attention to minute elegancies. 
 
 The concluding part of this discourse may be con- 
 sidered as the Jewel of Connoisseurs : for in it they 
 will find a plain, simple, yet delicate investigation of 
 the merits of those two great masters, as well as of 
 Salvator Rosa, Carlo jMaratti, Poussin, llubens, &c., 
 an investigation founded on the dictates of taste, 
 genius, and sound sense, and the more particularly 
 valuable from being cleared of all the tinsel of terms, 
 which only serve to give a glare to ignorance. 
 
 The intimate friendship between Dr. Johnson and 
 Sir Joshua still existed in its full force; yet so flatter- 
 ing were the compliments which Johnson properly 
 chose to pay to Mrs. Thrale, who sincerely esteemed 
 liim, that wc find him writing to her, in the month of 
 February, 1773, after a slight illness, for her appro- 
 bation of his visiting at his friend's house : he says, 
 <f< I have an invitation to dine at Sir Joshua Reynolds's
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I43 
 
 on Tuesday; may I except it? I have undertalven to 
 beg from you the favor of lending Miss Reynolds, 
 Newton on the Prophecies, &c.'' This, Jiowever, 
 was, probably, mere matter of compliment, or to con- 
 sult her on its safety in respect to his returning health ; 
 for Sir Joshua's house and table were always open to 
 his friends, with invitation or without, and as freely 
 made use of. 
 
 To Goldsmith, in particular, he was always at- 
 tentive; a man of whom it has been, not unaptly, 
 said, that his carelessness of conduct, and frivolity of 
 manners, obscured tlie goodness of his heart. Mr. 
 Cumberland, in his own Memoirs, has a passage 
 peculiarly illustrative of this, where he says, thai 
 " Sir .Toshua Reynolds was very good to him, and 
 would have drilled him into better trim and order for 
 society, if he would have been amenable ; for Rey- 
 nolds was a perfect gentleman, had good sense, great 
 propriety, with all the social attributes, and all the 
 graces of hospitality, equal to any man. He well 
 knew how to appreciate men of talents, and how near 
 akin the Muse of Poetry was to that Art of which he 
 was so eminent a master. From Goldsmith he caught 
 the subject of his famous Ugolino; what aids he got 
 from others, if he got any, were worthily bestowed^ 
 and happily applied.'' 
 
 Mr. Cumberland, however, is, perhaps, ratlier in- 
 accurate in his assertion respecting the painting of 
 " Ugolino," which was finished in this year, ( 1773,) 
 and begun, not long before, as an historical subject. 
 
 The fact is, that this painting may be said to have 
 been produced as an historical picture by an accident : 
 for the head of the Count had been painted previous to 
 the year 1771? and finished on what we painters call 
 ^' a half length canvas," and was, in point of expres- 
 sion, exactly as it now stands, but without any inten- 
 tion, on the part of Sir Joshua, of making it the sub- 
 ject of an historical composition, or having the story 
 of Count Ugolino in his thoughts. Being exposed in 
 the picture gallery, along with his other works, it was
 
 144 MExMOlRS OF 
 
 seen, either by Mr. Edmund Burke, or Dr. Gold- 
 smith, I am, not certain which, who immediately 
 exclaimed, thatit struck him as being the precise per- 
 son, countenance, and expression of the Count Ugoli- 
 no, as described by Dante in bis " Inferno." 
 
 Tliis affecting description is given in the thirty- 
 third Canto of the first part of his Comedia, where, in 
 his supposed passage through liell, he introduces 
 Ugolino gnawing the head of his treacherous and 
 cruel enemy, the Archbishop Kuggiero, and then 
 telling his own sad story on the appearance of tlie 
 poet. 
 
 The historical facts are simply these, that in the 
 latter end of the thirteenth century there Avere great 
 intestine divisions, in the city and state of Pisa in 
 Italy, for the sovereignty ; divisions which gave rise 
 to the well known contests of Guelphs and Ghibel- 
 lines. The former of these consisted of two parties, at 
 the head of whicli were Visconti and Ugolino : whilst 
 the Archbishop Ruggiero led the third. 
 
 Between this latter and Ugolino a compromise took 
 place, by which means Visconti and his partizans 
 w^ere driven out; when Kuggiero, finding the Guelph 
 faction considerably weakened, immediately plotted 
 against his quondam friend, already elected sovereign. 
 The mob being excited by the crafty priest against 
 their new prince, the unfortunate Ugolino was over- 
 powered, and he and his two sons, together with two 
 grandsons, were then conveyed to the city prison, 
 where they remained some months, until the Pisans 
 being excommunicated by the Pope, they became so 
 enraged, that they determined to revenge themselves 
 on the unhappy prisoners; and having accordingly 
 strongly secured and barricadoed the doors of the 
 dungeon, they threw tlie keys of the prison into the 
 river Arno, so that Ugolino and his unhappy offsprings 
 perished. 
 
 Tluis far the historian — when the imagination of 
 the poet undertook to fill up the awful hiatus between 
 the sealing of their doom and the last moment of ex-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. j43 
 
 piring nadire : and of the poet's powers I am liapjjy to 
 be able to give an illustration, to the follow ing beauti- 
 ful translation by my friend Mr. !Natlianiel Howard, 
 of Plymouth, Devon, who is an ornament to his 
 country : 
 
 " La Bocca sallevo dal fiero pasto 
 Quel peccator," &c. 
 
 " The sinner pausing from his grim repast, 
 Wip'd in the miscreant's hair his gory jaws, 
 < Mj desperate woe, obedient to thy will, 
 I now relate,' he answered, ' tho' with pain 
 Remembrance wring my heart. For if my tale 
 Should to this traitor, whom I gnaw, produce 
 The fruit of infamy, tho' tears gush forth. 
 Yet will I speak. — I know not whence thou art, 
 Or what commission brings thee to this gulf. 
 But speech, in truth, bespeaks thee Tuscan born. 
 Know, LTgolino and that prelate base, 
 Ruggiero, meet thy presence; mark our forms. 
 I need not mention that his evil mind 
 First wTong'd my confidence, then caused my death ; 
 But what lies undivulg'd shall now be heard, 
 The cruel manner of my lingering doom : 
 Then shall thou learn the colour of his guilt. 
 Within the iron dungeon, which still bears 
 * The name of" Famine" since my dreadful death, 
 And still where others pine, there thro' the grate 
 Shone many a moon ; and oft my feverish dreams 
 Unveil'd the future to my mental view. 
 This priest, I dreamt, was leader of the chase; 
 Swift to the Julian mountain with his whelps 
 Hurried the wolf : with blood-hounds gaunt and keen 
 Lanfranchi and Sismondi, and the chief 
 Gualundi follow'd. Soon the course was spent; 
 The victim and his infant race grew faint. 
 When on them sprang, I thought, the savage pack, 
 And with their tusks transpierc'd their panting sides. 
 This wak'd me ere the dawn, when in their sleep 
 I heard my children groan and call for bread — 
 Oh cruel ; should no pity touch thy soul 
 To think how much a father's heart presag'd ; 
 If now thou shed'st no tears, what have thy eyes 
 Been us'd to weep at? — Now my boys awoke; 
 The hour arriv'd, when each expected food.
 
 146 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 As wonted, would be brought him : — but his heart 
 
 Mistrusted, when each thought upon his dream. 
 
 And 1,0 horrible! that instant heard 
 
 The dungeon-doors below more firmly lock'd — 
 
 In desperate silence on my sons I gaz'd, — 
 
 I could not weep — My heart was turn'd to stone. 
 
 The little victims wept, and one began, 
 
 My dear Anselmo: Father! Why tliat look.' 
 
 ' What ails my father ?'' — Ah ! I could not weep, 
 
 Nor answer all that day, nor yet the night. 
 
 Till on the world another morn arose. 
 
 As faintly thro' our doleful prison gleam'd 
 The tremulous ray, so I could view again 
 Each face, on which my features were imprest. 
 Both hands I gnaw'd in agony and rage. 
 Sweet innocents they thought me hunger stung, 
 And, rising on a sudden, all exclaimed, 
 ' Father! our anguish would be less severe, 
 * If thou would'st feed on us. This fleshly vest 
 ' Thou did'st bestow, now take it back again,'— 
 I clieck'd my inward nature, lest my groans 
 Should aggravate their anguish. Jill were mute 
 That bitter day, and all the morrow. Earth ! 
 Why did'st thou not, obdurate earth! dispart.'' 
 The fourth sad morning came, when at my feet 
 My Gaddo fell extended: ' Help!' he cried, 
 ' Can''st thou not helj) vie, father?'' — and expired. 
 80 withered as thou see'st me, one by one, 
 I saw my children ere the sixth noon die : 
 \nd, seiz'd with sudden blindness, on my knees 
 I grop'd among them, calling each by name 
 For tlnee days after they were dead. — At last, 
 Famine and death closed up the scene of woe. 
 
 So having said, with dark distorted eyes, 
 He on the wretched skull infix'd his teeth, 
 And like a mastift" gnaw'd the solid bone." 
 
 After this exquisite detail by the poet, the subject 
 was taken up by the sculptor, and Richardson in his 
 " Science of a Connoisseur/' relates that Michael 
 Angelo Buonarotti composed abas-relief of the Count 
 sitting with his four children, one of which lay dead 
 at his feet : over their heads were a figure to represent
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I4.7 
 
 Famine, and beneath them another personifying the 
 river Arno, on whose banks the tragedy was acted. 
 
 The whole subject is well liandled by Richardson, 
 and may be read with pleasure, as relative to the 
 picture, although written long before the idea started 
 by Burke was adopted by Sir Joshua, who imme- 
 diately had his canvas enlarged in order that he might 
 be enabled to add the otiier figures, and to complete 
 his painting of the impressive description of tlie 
 Italian poet. 
 
 The picture when finished was bought by the late 
 Duke of Dorset for four hundred guineas; and it has 
 since been noticed by Dr. Joseph Warton. who in his 
 Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, intro- 
 duces the story in exemplification of some pathetic 
 passages in that writer; and then adds — *•* Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, whose mind is stored with great and exalt- 
 ed ideas, has lately shown, by a picture on this sub- 
 ject, how qualified he is to preside at a Royal Acade- 
 my, and that he has talents that ought not to be 
 confined to portrait painting." 
 
 Some time after this, his pencil gave to the world 
 another historical subject of great celebrity, the Infant 
 Jupiter, now the property of the Duke of Rutland. 
 
 When Goldsmitlrs comedy of " She Stoops to 
 Conquer,'' was to be brought out on the stage, on the 
 15th of March in this year, he was at a loss what 
 name to give it, till the very last moment, and then, 
 in great liaste, called it *' She Stoops to Conquer, or 
 the Mistakes of a Night." Sir Josliua, who disliked 
 this name for a play, offered a much better to him, 
 saying, " You ought to call it the Belle's Stratagem, 
 and if you do not I will damn it." However, Gold- 
 smith chose to name it himself, as above; and Mrs. 
 Cowley has since given that name to one of her 
 comedies. 
 
 Goldsmith was in great anxiety about its success, 
 he was much distressed in his finances at tlie time, 
 and all his hopes hung on the event; and at the din- 
 ner preceding the representation of his play, his mouth 
 
 X
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 became so parched and dry, from the agitation of his 
 mind, that he was unable to swallow a single mouth- 
 ful. Tlie actors themselves had great doubts of its 
 success; but, contrary to their expectations, the play 
 was received with great applause ; Sir Joshua and a 
 large party of friends going for the purpose of support- 
 ing it if necessary. The dinner ])arty, wiiich took 
 place at the Shakspeare, is humourously described 
 by Cumberland. Dr. Johnson took the head of the 
 table, and there were present the Burkes, Caleb 
 Whitcford, Major Mills, &c. &c. 
 
 I remember Dr. Goldsmith gave me an order soon 
 after this, with which 1 went to see this comedy ; and 
 the next time I saw him he inquired of me wJiat my 
 opinion was of it. I told him that I would not 
 presume to be a judge of its merits; he then said, 
 *• Did it make you laugh?" I answered, " Exceed- 
 ingly.'' " Then/' said the Doctor, ^* that is all I 
 require." 
 
 One day Dr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith meeting 
 at Sir Joshua Reynolds's table, the conversation 
 turned on the merits of that well known tragedy, 
 Otway's Venice Preserved, which Goldsmith highly 
 extolled, asserting, that of all tragedies it was the one 
 nearest in excellence to Shakspeare ; when Johnson, 
 in his peremptory manner, contradicted him, and pro- 
 nounced that there were not forty good lines to be 
 found in the whole play; adding, " Pooh! what stuff 
 are these lines : — -^ What feminine tales hast thou been 
 listening to, of unaired shirts, catarrhs, and tooth-ach 
 got by thin soled shoes ?' " 
 
 ^' True," replied Goldsmith, ^^ to be sure that is 
 very like Shakspeare." 
 
 Sir Joshua used to say, that he thought any man 
 of tolerable capacity might write a tragedy, such as 
 an audience would receive from the stage without 
 objection; but that it required a real genius for 
 humour, together with considerable taste, to write a 
 comedy. The remark has been made by Sorbiere, an
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 14^ 
 
 eminent French physician, who gives ample reasons 
 for this opinion,* 
 
 A few persons dining at Sir Joshua ReynoUls-g 
 about this time, of whom I was one, in the course of 
 conversation after dinner Sir Joshua spoke of Mr. 
 Malone's edition of Shakspeare, which was then ju«;t 
 about to be published. He said it was such a work 
 as W'ould render it totally unnecessary to attempt to 
 improve it any further, as Mr. Malone had, with 
 indefatigable industry and the deepest research, now 
 explored every source of knowledge from which 
 Shakspeare might have had any means of getting 
 assistance, for in truth it had been the prime object of 
 his pursuits, and the business of his whole life with 
 intense application. 
 
 I must confess honestly, that 1 felt a little degree 
 of irritation at hearing this vast eulogium on a work 
 
 * " More tragedies than comedies are produced. Young men 
 first make an attempt at tragedy; not being able, for want of 
 knowledge and experience, to attempt any other kind of 
 writing. Their hero of the tragedy is, for the most part, a 
 fictitious character, and Phoebus and the Muses are invoked to 
 fit him out for appearing. On the contrary, the characters of a 
 comedy are such as we meet with daily in the streets at every 
 turn; and we have only to transcribe their words and actions. 
 It is true, that those we esteem the most excellent painters 
 are not frequently the best copyists; and that good historians 
 are not always skilful in drawing characters. But, perhaps, this 
 is a defect in them; and, to speak fairly, the painter who copies 
 nature exactly, and with art, is surely as deserving of our prai«e 
 as he who cannot paint after nature, but looks fpr an original in 
 his caprice. It appears that comedy is the most difficult of 
 dramatic works: as the poet imitates characters which are un- 
 der the observation of all, and whose opinions must confirm the 
 likeness of the portraiture. The style of comedy is less arduous 
 than that of tragedy: as there is less art in running very fast, 
 and skipping up and down, thau in a regular march or a grace- 
 ful dance. Yet it is not so difficult to soar in heroic verse as to 
 represent common life; which requires a steady and vigorous 
 pencil." 
 
 Samuel Sorbiere, an eminent physician in Paris, in the time of 
 Louis XIV, and patronized by Cardinal Mazarin, wa^ born in 
 the year 1610, and died in 1670,
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 wliicb, in its very nature, cannot be a matter requiring 
 the least genius ; neither can it add one atom to the 
 matchless excellencies of that captivating poet, and 
 does little more than to form an excuse for the name 
 of the commentator being handed down to posterity 
 attached to that of the immortal Shakspeare. 
 
 I rather hastily replied, as a counteraction to the 
 foregoing speech of 8ir Joshua's, •' What a very 
 despicable creature must that man be ^vho thus 
 devotes himself and makes another man his God;" 
 when BosAvell, w ho sat at my elbow, and was not in 
 my thoughts at the time, cried out immediately, " Oh ! 
 Sir Joshua, then tiiat is me!'' I was exceedingly 
 sorry when he took it to himself, and excused the 
 speech I had made in the best manner I was able. 
 However, if Bosvvell's office was not a high one, the 
 work he has produced by it is much more original 
 and more valuable beyond all comparison, as very 
 few books in the English language bid fairer for im- 
 mortality tiian his life of Dr. Johnson. 
 
 In the early part of this year Sir Joshua took a trip 
 w ith a party of friends to Portsmouth, on the occasion 
 of the King's reviewing the navy there : and in the 
 latter part of the summer he also made a visit to 
 Plymouth, the reason of which was this, that having 
 already been made a freeman of his native town of 
 Plyrapton, this mark of respect was followed by liis 
 being chosen alderman and mayor of that borough, 
 generally called Plympton Maurice, or EarFs Plymp- 
 ton, to distinguish it from Plympton St. Mary's, 
 formerly a convent of Benedictines, about half a mile 
 distant, the abbot of which was lord of the manor, 
 and sat in the house of peers after the dissolution of 
 religious houses. The town was incorporated by a 
 charter granted in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
 under a mayor, recorder, eight aldermen, or principal 
 burgesses, who are called common councilmen, a 
 bailiff, and town clerk, &c. 
 
 So strongly was Sir J^oshua attached to tlie place 
 of his birth, that he declared that this circumstance
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 151 
 
 gave him more pleasure than any other honour which 
 he tiad received during his life. 
 
 On this occasion he presented his portrait, painted 
 by himself, to the corporation, who placed it in the 
 town hall. It is a good picture with a light sky back 
 ground, and in his academical dress as doctor of 
 laws. 
 
 There is another portrait of him painted when 
 young, and now in the possession of T. Lane, Esq. 
 of Cofflett, about three miles from Plympton. In this 
 picture he holds one hand over to shadow his eyes, 
 an attitude often chosen by painters when they paint 
 their own portraits. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Alcock, vicar of Cornwood, a parish 
 in the neighbourhood, presented to Sir Joshua the 
 following distich on the receipt of tliis valuable 
 present to the corporation. 
 
 " Laudat Romanus Raphaelem, Gr^ecus Apellem, 
 Plympton Rejnolden jactat, utiique parem." 
 
 But the new mayor, though perhaps pleased with the 
 compliment, modestly declared that he thought it 
 would be assuming too much honour to himself, to 
 have it affixed to, or even put on the back of, the 
 picture. 
 
 The following elegant letter to Sir Joshua, as it 
 relates to one of his most distinguished performances, 
 together with his answer, in which that work is 
 described, certainly cannot be unacceptable to the 
 reader. 
 
 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 DEAR SIR JOSHUA, 
 
 " This letter will be delivered to you by Miss 
 -, who intends to sit to you with her two sis- 
 
 ters, to compose a picture, of which I am to have the
 
 15^ MEMOIRS OF * 
 
 honour of being the possessor. I wish to have their 
 portraits together at full leugth, representing sqrae 
 emblamatical or historical subject; the idea of which, 
 and the attitudes which will best suit their forms, 
 cannot be so well imagined as by one who has so emi- 
 nently distinguished himself by his genius and poetic 
 invention. Give me leave to mention to you (notwith- 
 standing I am well assured you want no incitement to 
 make your works complete,) that besides the advan- 
 tage you will have in the superiority of the beauty 
 and elegance of those subjects which no doubt will of 
 themselves convey a degree of instruction, you will, 
 I hope, find that these young ladies, from their high 
 opinion of your powers, will not spare their time, iii 
 order to render this picture in every particular a most 
 superior production. I shall add the honour you will 
 acquire in conveying to posterity the resemblance of 
 three sisters so distinguished for different species of 
 beauty ; and what 1 flatter myself will not be .the 
 smallest reason for particular attention to this work, 
 the great obligation you will confer on me in making 
 it perfect. 
 
 ' " I am with great esteem, 
 
 ^^ Dear Sir Joshua, 
 
 ''■ Your very sincere and humble servant. 
 
 DviUin, May 27th, 1773." 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds wrote in reply, a few months 
 afterwards. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 ^* I intended long ago to have returned you 
 thanks for the agreeable employment in which you 
 have engaged me, and likewise for the very obliging
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I53 
 
 manner in which this favor was conferred ; but imme- 
 diately after the heads were finished, I was enticed 
 away to Portsmouth, and from thence to Oxford, 
 from whence I am but just returned ; so that this is the 
 first quiet minute I have had for this month past; 
 though it is a little delayed by these holidays, it will 
 not, upon the whole, fare the worse for it, as I am re- 
 turned with a very keen appetite to the work. This 
 picture is the great object of ray mind at present. You 
 have been already informed, I have no doubt, of the 
 subject which we have chosen ; the adorning a Term 
 of Hymen with festoons of flowers. This affords suffi- 
 cient employment to the figures, and gives an oppor- 
 tunity of introducing a variety of graceful historical 
 attitudes. I have every inducement to exert myself on 
 this occasion, both from the confidence you have 
 placed in me, and from the subjects you have pre- 
 sented to me, which are such as I am never likely to 
 meet with again as long as I live, and I flatter myself 
 that, however inferior the picture may be to what I 
 wish it, or what it ought, it will be the best picture I 
 ever painted. I beg leave to congratulate you and 
 
 Mrs. G , and express my sincere wishes for 
 
 that perfect happiness to which you are both so well 
 intitled. 
 
 *' I am with great respect, &c. 
 
 N " Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 " I shall send away your picture (the best of the 
 two) immediately ; the other I know is to remain here. 
 I have forgot to what place it is to be sent." 
 
 The visit to Oxford, mentioned in the foregoing 
 letter, gained an additional liouour to be conferred 
 upon Sir Joshua, the variety of whose talents, added 
 to the eminence he had acquired, qualified him to 
 share the honours of the first scientific institutions^
 
 ^54 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and in consequence of which he had for some time 
 before the present period been admitted to tlie Royal, 
 Antiquarian, and Dilletante Societies; and when thte 
 late Earl of Guildford, then Lord North, was in- 
 stalled Chancellor of the University of Oxford, in the 
 first week of July in this year, Sir Joshua Avas, at tjie 
 same time, admitted to the honorary degree of Doctor 
 of Civil Law. 
 
 On that day fifteen persons only were admitted, and 
 it is a remarkable fact, that Sir Joshua and Dr. 
 Bcatlie were the only two who were distinguished by 
 an encomium from Dr. Vansittart, the Professor of 
 Civil Law, whose duty it is to present the graduates 
 to the Chancellor. It is also well known to be cus- 
 tomary, when the graduate bows and takes his seat, 
 that there should, on particular occasions, be a clap- 
 ping of hands in the theatre, sometimes loud, and 
 sometimes but faint; on this occasion, however, it is 
 related, that those two were the only personages who 
 received any marks of extraordinary applause. 
 
 There is a remarkably fine allegorical picture 
 painted by Sir Joshua, representing the portrait of 
 Dr. James Beattie. The Doctor is in his university 
 dress as Doctor of Laws, with his volume on the Im- 
 mutability of Truth under his arm. The Angel of 
 Truth is going before him and beating down the 
 Vices, Envy, Falsehood, &c. which are represented 
 by a group of figures fiilling at his approach, and the 
 principal head in this group is made an exact likeness 
 of Voltaire. When Dr. Goldsmith called on Sir 
 Joshua and saw this picture, he was very indignant at 
 it, and remonstrated with him, saying, '' It very ill 
 becomes a man of your eminence and character, Sir 
 Joshua, to condescend to be a mean flatterer, or to 
 wish to degrade so high a genius as Voltaire before so 
 mean a writer as Dr. 13eattie; for Dr. Beattie and his 
 book together, will, in the space of ten years, not be 
 known ever to have been in existence, but your alle- 
 gorical picture, and the fame of Voltaire, will live 
 for ever to your disgrace as a flatterer.''
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 155 
 
 This picture was painted in the year 1773, and 
 presented to Dr. Beattie l)y 8ir Joshua, \v!io eiifcer- 
 tained a great friendship for the Doctor, whom he 
 esteemed as an honest liumhie man of consi(h;rahlo 
 abilities : indeed, it forms a very prominent feature in 
 tlie " Life" of the latter; where it is dwelt on with an 
 allowable degree of complacency, that 8tr Joshua 
 paid him much attention during his visits to London, 
 (respecting him more for his virtues than his talents,) 
 frequently entertaining him, both at his house in town, 
 and at his villa on Richmond Hill, testifying, by 
 every means in his power, the esteem he felt for him 
 as a friend, and the opinion he held respecting his 
 writings ; while, as Sir William Forbes adds, Dr. 
 Beattie " 6n the other hand, loved Sir Joshua, for the 
 amiable simplicity of his manners Pud character, and 
 justly admired the masterly productions of his pencil, 
 as well as duly appreciated his merit in the composi- 
 tion of those truly classical discourses which he 
 delivered to the students in the Royal Academy." 
 
 The gentleman above alluded to will, I have no 
 doubt, excuse me in this instance of availing myself of 
 some particulars in his work, highly honourable to 
 both of his amiable and deceased friends, and which 
 refer pointedly to the present part of the subject. Sir 
 William observes, that how properly Dr. Beattie 
 estimated the various tiilents of Sir Joshua, may be 
 drawn from an extract of his Diary, and which he 
 transcribed in the Doctor's own words, because, being 
 a private record merely of his own tisoughts, it may- 
 be relied on as speaking the genuine language of his 
 heart. This extract is dated Sunday the i5th of 
 August, and says, '• W^e proposed (Dr. and Mrs. B.) 
 to have gone to Arno's Crrove, but Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds insisted on it, that we should stay till to-mor 
 row, and partake of a haunch of venison with him to- 
 day, at his house on Richmond Hill. Accordingly at 
 eleven, Mrs. Beattie, Miss Reynolds, Mr. Barretti, 
 and Mr. Palmer, set out in Sir Joshua's coach for 
 Richmond. At twelve he and I went in a post 
 
 Y
 
 136 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 chaise, and l)y the way paid a visit to the Bishop of 
 Chester, who was very earnest for us to fix a day for 
 dining with him; hut 1 could not fix one just now, on 
 account of the present state of my afiairs. After dining 
 at Riclimond, we all returned to town, ahout eight 
 o'clock. This day I had a great deal of conversation 
 with Sir Joshua Reynolds on critical and philosophi- 
 cal suhjects. 1 find him to he a man, not only of excel- 
 lent taste in painting and poetry, but of an enlarged un- 
 derstanding and truly philosophical mind. His notions 
 of painting are not at all the same with those that are 
 entertained by the generality of painters and others. 
 Artificial and contrasted attitudes, and groupes, he 
 makes no account of; it is the truth and simplicity of 
 nature which he is ambitious to imitate: and these, it 
 must be allowed, he possesses the art of blending with 
 the most exquisite grace, the most animated expres- 
 sion. He speaks with contempt of those who suppose 
 grace to consist in erect position, turned out toes, or 
 tlie frippery ol modern dress. Indeed, whatever ac- 
 count we make of the colouring of this great artist, 
 (which some people object to,) it is impossible to deny 
 liim the praise of being the greatest designer of any 
 age. In his pictures there is a grace, a variety, an ex- 
 pression, a simplicity, which I have never seen in the 
 works of any other painter. His portraits are distin- 
 guished from all others, by this, that they exhibit an 
 exact imitation, not only of the features, but also of 
 the character of the person represented. His picture of 
 Garrick, between Tragedy and Comedy, he tells me 
 he finished in a week,'' &c. &c. This, although but 
 an aukward description of Sir Joshua's character, yet 
 I insert to shew what an impression his talents had 
 made on the simplicity of Beattie. 
 
 Dr. Beattie lias also strongly marked his high 
 admiration of his friend in his Essay on Poetry and 
 Music, where he joins his name with that of Raffaelle. 
 In this, having first given praise to both for their 
 assuming nature as their model, to the utter exclusion 
 of fashion, at least as far as is possible, he adds, that
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I57 
 
 •' on this account their works must give pleasure, and 
 appear elegant as long as men are capable of forming 
 general ideas, and of judging from them. The last 
 mentioned incomparable artist (meaning Sir Joshua,) 
 is particularly observant of children, whose looks and 
 attitudes being less under the control of art, and local 
 manners, are more characteristical of the species thnn 
 those of men and women. This field of observation 
 supplied him with many fine figures, particularly that 
 most exquisite one of Comedy, struggling for and 
 ■winning (for who can resist her?) the affections of 
 Garrick — a figure which could never have occurred to 
 the imagination of a painter who had confined his 
 views to grown persons, looking and moving in all 
 the formality of polite life — a figure which, in all 
 ages and countries, would be pronounced natural and 
 engaging." 
 
 To all these testimonies in favor of Sir Joshua, Sir 
 William Forbes adds, from his own pen, this elegant 
 compliment: ^^ To that great artist, and excellent man, 
 whose house one of our mutual friends has well de- 
 nominated the common centre of union for the great, 
 the accomplished, the learned, and the ingenious, I 
 must equally pay my grateful acknowledgments for 
 the uninterrupted friendship with which he honoured 
 me, as well as for an introduction to the notice of some 
 distinguished characters, to whom I should not other- 
 wise have had the means of being known." 
 
 The progress of the above mentioned celebrated 
 picture is further described in Dr. Beattie's Diary^, 
 where he says, " August 16th, (Monday,) breakfasted 
 with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who this day began the 
 allegorical picture. I sat to him five hours, in which 
 time he finished my head, and sketched out the rest 
 of my figure. The likeness is most striking, and the 
 execution most masterly. The figure is as large as 
 life. The plan is not yet fixed for the rest of the pic- 
 ture. Though I sat five hours, I was not in the least 
 fatigued ; for by placing a large mirror opposite to my 
 face. Sir Joshua Reynolds put it in my power to see
 
 158 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 every stroke of lils pencil ; and I was greatly enter- 
 tained to observe the progress of the work, and the 
 easy and masterly manner of the arlist, which diilers 
 as much from that of all the oilier painters 1 have seen 
 at work, as tlie execution of (iiardini on the violin 
 dilR'rs from that of a common fiddler.'' 
 
 Ho much was said respeetiui^ tlie allegorical mean- 
 ing of Dr. lieattie's picture at Ihe time, that I may 
 l>e permitted to take some further notice of it ; partic- 
 ularly as it gave rise to attacks u[ton Sir Joshua, not 
 only as to his judgment in its concejition, hut as to his 
 prudence and propriety in making peisonal allu- 
 sions. 
 
 Whilst it was yet in its progress, Mrs. Montague 
 wrote to lieattie on the subject, saying, '' 1 am deliglU- 
 cd with Sir Joshua Reynolds's plan, and do not doubt 
 but he will make a very noble ]>icture of it. J class 
 Sir Joshua with the greatest geniuses that have ever 
 appeared in the art of painting; and I wish he was 
 employed by the public in some great work that would 
 do honour to our country in future ages. He lias the 
 spirit of a Givcian artist. The Athenians did not em- 
 j>loy sucii men in painting portraits to place over a 
 chimney, or the door of a private cabinet. I long to 
 see the picture he is now designing ; virtue and truth 
 are subjects worthy of the artist and the man. He has 
 an excellent moral character, and is most pleasing and 
 amiable in society; and with great talents has uncom- 
 mon humility nud gentleness.*' 
 
 Sir William Forbes enters, indeed, more particu- 
 larly into the subject; and, in addition to my own 
 testimony, that Sir Joshua meant not personally to 
 ofl'end any one by the composition, (though he was 
 not oifended himself at some likeness being discover- 
 ed, as I shall shew by a letter in a subsequent part of 
 this Memoir,) I shall give part of his observations on 
 this point. He says, •'* In this inestimable piece, 
 whicff exhibits an exact resemblance of Dr. Beattie's 
 countenance, at that period, he is represented in the 
 govvn of Doctor of Laws, with which he was so re
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I59 
 
 cently invested at Oxford. Close to the portrait, the 
 artist has introduced an angel, holding; in one hand a 
 pair of scales, as if weighing Truth in the balance, 
 and with the other hand pnsliing down three hideous 
 figures, supposed to represent Sophistry, Scepticism, 
 and Inlidelity; in allusion to Dr. Beattie^s Essay on 
 Truth, which had been the foundation of all his 
 fame, and of all the distinction which had been paid 
 him. 
 
 '* The likeness of Br. Beattie was most striking, 
 and nothing can exceed the beauty of the angel. The 
 whole composition, as well as execution, is in tiie very 
 best manner of that inimitable painter, and it has had 
 the good fortune, not always the case with Sir 
 Joshua's pictures, masterly as they are in every other 
 respect, of i)erfectly preserving the colouring, wliich 
 is as beautiful at the distance of upwards of thirty 
 years as it was at first, with as much of mellowness 
 only as one could desire. 
 
 " Of this admirable performance, Sir Joshua was 
 pleased to make Dr. B. a present, of w hich he was 
 very justly proud. He preserved it with the utmost 
 care, keeping it always covered with a green silk cur- 
 tain, and left it to his niece, Mrs. Glenuie.'' 
 
 A mezzotinto print has been done from it, and 
 there is also a very liandsome engraving from it, in 
 Forbes's Life of Beattie; and that writer adds, " Be- 
 cause one of these figures was a lean figure, (alluding 
 to the subordinate ones introduced,) and the other a 
 fat one, people of lively imaginations pleased them- 
 selves with finding in them the portraits of Voltaire 
 and Hume. But Sir Joshua, I have reason to believe, 
 had no such thought when he painted those figures." 
 
 It is a curious circumstance, too, that Dr. Beattie 
 either mistook the allegorical design himself, or else 
 gave it intentionally another meaning, perhaps out of 
 modesty, for he says in one of his letters, that the 
 figures represent Prejudice, Scepticism, and AWy, 
 who are shrinking away from the light of the sun that 
 beams on the breast of the ans:el 1
 
 160 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Of the small villa, already meiitioued in Dr. 
 Beattie's Diary, \vhich Sir Joshua built, for his re- 
 creation, on Richmond Hill, Sir William Chambers 
 was the architect; but not that it was intended to 
 make any display of taste in the building, for con- 
 venience alone was consulted in it. In the summer 
 season it was the frequent custom of Sir Joshua to 
 dine at this place with select parties of his friends. It 
 happened some little time before he was to be elected 
 Mayor of Plympton, as already mentioned, tliat one 
 day, after dining at the house, himself and his party 
 toak an evening walk in Richmond Gardens, when, 
 very unexpectedly, at a turning of one of the avenues, 
 they suddenly met tlie King, accompanied by a part 
 of the Royal Family; and as his Majesty saw him, it 
 was impossible for him to withdraw without being 
 noticed. The King called to him, and immediately 
 entered into conversation, and told him that he had 
 been informed of the office tiiat he was soon to be in- , 
 vested with, that of being made the INIayor of his na- 
 tive town of Plympton. Sir Joshua was astonished 
 that so minute and inconsiderable a circumstance, 
 which was of importance only to himself, should have 
 come so quickly to the knowledge of the King; he 
 assured his Majesty of its truth, saying that it was an 
 honour which gave him more pleasure than any other 
 he had ever received in his life, and then, luckily re- 
 collecting himself, added, " excepting that which 
 your Majesty was graciously pleased to bestow upon 
 me;" alluding to his knightliood. 
 
 About this period, and towards the latter end of 
 1773? a circumstance arose which promised to be 
 highly beneficial to the art, but which unfortunately 
 did not fulfil its early promises. 
 
 The chapel of Old Somerset-House, which had 
 been given by his Majesty to the Royal Academy, 
 was mentioned one evening at the meeting, as a place 
 which offered a good opportunity, of convincing the 
 public at large of the advantages that would arise 
 from ornamenting cathedrals and churches with the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I6l 
 
 productions of the pencil; productions which might 
 be useful in their eifect, and at the same time not 
 likely to give offence in a Protestant country. The 
 idea was therefore started, that if the members should 
 ornament this chapel, the example might thus afford 
 an opening for the introduction of the art into other 
 places of a similar nature, and which, as it was then 
 stated, would not only present a new and noble scene 
 of action, that mii;;ht become highly ornamental to the 
 kingdom, but would be, in some measure, absolutely 
 necessary for the future labour of the numerous stu- 
 dents educated under the auspices of the Royal 
 Academy. 
 
 All the members were struck with the propriety, 
 and even with the probability of success which at- 
 tended the scheme ; but Sir Joshua Reynolds, in par- 
 ticular, immediately took it up on a bolder plan, 
 and offered an amendment, saying, that instead of the 
 chapel, they should fly at once at higher game, and 
 undertake St. Paul's Cathedral. The grandeur and 
 magnificent liberality of this idea immediately gained 
 the suffrages and plaudits of all present, and the Pres- 
 ident was empowered to make the proper application 
 to the Dean and Chapter; an application which was 
 immediately acceded to on their part. At that time 
 Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol, was the Dean of St. 
 Paul's, who was a strong advocate in favor of this 
 scheme. 
 
 A meeting of the Academy then took place, when 
 six artists were chosen for the attempt; these were Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Mr. West the present President, 
 Barry, Dance, Cipriani, and Angelica Kauffman. 
 
 The Society for the Encouragement of Arts and 
 Manufactures also took up the business, and added 
 four artists to the original number. 
 
 The subject which Sir Joshua proposed to execute, 
 was that of the Virgin and Christ in the Manger, or 
 Nativity ; but the whole plan was set aside in conse- 
 quence of Dr. Terrick, then Bishop of London, 
 having refused his consent.
 
 iQ2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tills lias been noticed by Biirry, in one of his let- 
 ters, when he says, " Sir Joshua. Reynolds, who had 
 undertaken the management of this business, informed 
 us last Monday, the day after his return from Plymp- 
 ton, where he was chosen mayor, that the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury and IVishop of London had never given 
 any consent to it, and that all thoughts about it mnst 
 consequently drop." 
 
 At that time all sculptures were also prohibited 
 from that cathedral, for Dr. Newton the Dean, who 
 died soon after, left an injunction in his will that a 
 monument to his memory should be erected in that 
 church if possible, which was to cost five hundred 
 pounds, with the hope of introducing the arts into that 
 cathedral ; this was denied to the family, and his 
 monument, executed by Banks the Sculptor, and a 
 very fine one, was then placed in St. Bride's church, 
 of which Newton was the Rector, according to his 
 order, in case of a refusal of his first request. 
 
 I believe it was in this year that he painted that 
 portrait of himself, a half length, now in the Royal 
 Academy, and which has a cap, and the gown of his 
 honorary degree at Oxford. In this picture is intro- 
 duced the bust of Michael Angelo, whose works he 
 always contemplated, and spoke of, with enthusiasm : 
 this is nearly the same dress in which he has repre- 
 sented himself in several others, one of them sent (o 
 Florence, and the other, a three-quarter, in the posses- 
 sion of the Duke of Rutland. 
 
 In this year also it was, that the Literary Club, 
 which owed its origin in a great measure to him, was 
 enlarged by the addition of two valuable members; 
 the late Earl of Charlemont, and David Garrick : 
 after which some others were admitted to tliis select 
 circle of friends. 
 
 So much was Sir Joshua now admired and esteem- 
 
 *ed, that his acquaintance was considered as ao 
 
 honour, and his name as a passport; and the latter 
 
 was eagerly sought after even by those who wished to 
 
 introduce the eflorts of literature to the world.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. £63 
 
 A very handsome compliment was paid to him at 
 this pei-iod, by the Editor of Richardson's ^' Theory 
 of Painting/' who dedicated this work to the Presi- 
 dent. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 '' A NEW and improved edition of the works of 
 Jonathan Richardson cannot be inscribed with so 
 much propriety to any body, as to you. The author 
 has in his '• Theory of Painting,'' discoursed with 
 great judgment on the excellencies of this divine art, 
 and recommended the study of it with a warmtii 
 approaching to enthusiasm. His ideas are noble, and 
 his observations learned. I am emboldened to say this, 
 from a conversation which I had the honour to have 
 with you on this subject. 
 
 " Ilad Richardson lived to see the inimitable pro- 
 ductions of your pencil, he would have congratulated 
 his country on the prospect of a School of Painting 
 likely to contend successfully with those of Italy. 
 
 '^ At the same time, he would liave confessed, that 
 your admirable discourses would have rendered his 
 own writings less necessary. 
 
 I am, with the greatest respect," &c. &c. 
 
 In the early part of 177'!'? a resolution was entered 
 into by the Society of Arts, that a series of Historical 
 or Allegorical pictures should be painted by the first 
 artists in the kingdom, to decorate their new room in 
 the Adelphi. The plan proposed was, that there 
 should be eight historical and two allegorical; the 
 subjects of the former to be taken from tiie British 
 Annals. 
 
 It was also proposed, that the profits arising from 
 the exliibitioa of those works, for a limited time, 
 should be appropriated to the remuneration of the 
 artists employed. The historical painters chosen, 
 were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Angelica Kauffman,
 
 iGjj ISIE.MOIRS OF 
 
 ]\tess. West, Cipriani, Barry, Wright, Mortimer, and 
 Dance; whilst the allegorical designs were to have 
 been executed hy Penny and Romney. Sir Joshua, 
 liowevcr, after some delihoration, thought proper to 
 decline the proposal; and the rooms have been since 
 decorated, as is well knoAvn, by Barry alone. 
 
 This latter artist had now been returned some time 
 from Italy, and notwithstanding the Friendship always 
 expressed and shewn towards him by Sir Joshua, he 
 seems to have been actuated in his conduct towards 
 him, in several instances, by a capricious envy, for 
 which Sir Joshua nover gave him any cause, but 
 ■which may, perhaps, have arisen from a petty jealousy 
 at Sir Joshua's having painted a portrait of Burke for 
 bis friend Mr. Thrale. 
 
 This dispute, for such it was, at least on the part 
 of Barry, has been noticed by Barry's biographer : 
 and though I cannot agree with him in part of his 
 observations, yet 1 shall here give the whole passage 
 as explanatory of the occurrence. In the life prefixed 
 to his works, it is said, that ^' it may be necessary to 
 premise, that about this time a kind of ill humour had 
 possessed Barry, in consequence of the extreme inti- 
 macy of the Burkes with Sir Joshua Reynolds, which 
 led him to suppose that those friends overlooked his 
 merits to aggrandize Sir Joshua's. There might be 
 (for those tilings are common to frail human nature) 
 some envy entertained by Barry towards Sir Joshua, 
 for his respectable connections and his splendid mode 
 of entertaining them, and, perhaps, some little jealousy 
 in the mild Sir Joshua towards him, for a reputation 
 that was rising to eclipse or outrun his own. 
 
 ^^ Whatever might be the cause, we see Barry 
 standing upon a point of silly etiquette with the man 
 of all others in the world the most honoured and 
 loved, and in a way to endanger the imputation of 
 ingratitude, had it not been for the dignified modera- 
 tion displayed by Mr. Burke on the occasion." 
 
 This is an allusion to a very curious correspondence 
 which took place at this period between Burke and
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I6p 
 
 BaiTj, respecting the neglect of the latter in executing 
 a portrait of his patron. The correspondence is pre- 
 served in Barry's works; and I am of opinii)n, that 
 whoever reads it, will agree with me, tliat there was no 
 necessity for accusing Sir Joshua of feeling jealousy 
 at Barry's rising fame, when Barry's own conduct, 
 arising from the waywardness of his own feeVmgs, will 
 easily account for his feeling sore respecting Sir 
 Joshua. 
 
 Indeed his biograplier's own confession of his 
 envious sensations, is enough to preclude the necessi- 
 ty of seeking for any other cause: and, I trust, that 
 the numerous instances which I shall yet have oc- 
 casion to produce of Sir Joshua's professional suavity 
 and feelings, both in theory and in practice, will do 
 away any impression which the foregoing passage 
 might have excited to his prejudice. 
 
 On the 22i\ of February in this year, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds wrote the following letter to Dr. Beattie, 
 which I adduce as a fair specimen of his epistolary 
 powers : 
 
 " I sit down to relieve my mind from great anxiety 
 and uneasiness, and I am sorry when I say, tliat this 
 proceeds from not answering your letter sooner. This 
 seems very strange, you will say, since the cause may 
 he so easily removed ; but the truth of the matter is, T 
 waited to be able to inform you, that your picture was 
 finished, which, however, 1 cannot now do. 
 
 " I must confess to you, that when I sat down, I 
 did intend lo tell a sort of a white lie, that it was 
 finished; but on recollecting that I was writing to the 
 author of truth, about a picture of truth, I felt that I 
 ought to say nothing but the truth. The truth then is, 
 that the picture probably will be finished before you 
 receive this letter; for there is not above a day's work 
 remaining to be done, 
 
 ^' Mr. Hume has heard from somebody that he is 
 introduced in the picture not much to his credit ; there 
 is only a figure covering his face with his hands, 
 which they may call * Hume,' or any body else ; it is
 
 166 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 true it has a lolerable broad ])ack. As for Voltaire, I 
 intended he should be one of the groupe. 
 
 ^•' I intended to write more, but I liear the postman's 
 bell. Dr. Johnson^ who is with me now, desires his 
 compliments.'' 
 
 This mifortnnate picture, which seems doomed to 
 have excited mistaken displeasure, was exhibited in 
 the year 177^ j ^n'' Mrs. Montague says of it, in a 
 letter to Beattie, '' Your portrait is in the Exhibition ; 
 it is very like, and the piece worthy of the pencil of 
 Sir Joshua,'' Some others, however, wore not so 
 pleased with it as the lady seemed to be; for Beattie. 
 himself, in a letter written to her on the S7th of 
 May, in that year, observes, '^ Mr. jNlason seems now 
 to be tolerably reconciled to the subscription, but he 
 lias found a new subject of concern, in this allegorical 
 picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which he thinks can 
 hardly fail to hurt my character in good earnest. I 
 know not certainly in what liglit Mr. Mason considers 
 this picture; but so far as I have yet heard, he is 
 singular in his opinion. 
 
 " If Mr. Gray had done me the honour to address 
 an ode to me, and speak in high terms of my attack on 
 the sceptics, my enemies might have ])lamed him for 
 bis partiality, and the world might have thought that 
 he had employed his muse in too mean an oflRce; but 
 would any body have blamed me? If Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds thinks more favourably of me than I 
 deserve, (which he certainly does,) and if he enter- 
 tains the same favourable sentiments of my cause, 
 which I wish him and all the world to entertain, I 
 should be glad to know from Mr. Mason, w hat there 
 is in all this to fix any blame on my character? Indeed 
 if /had planned this picture, and urged Sir Joshua to 
 paint it, and paid him for his trouble, and then have 
 solicited admittance for it into the Exhibition, then the 
 world would have had good reason to exclaim against 
 ine as a vain coxcomb; but I am persuaded, that no- 
 body will ever suspect me of this, for nobody can do 
 so, without first supposing that I am a fool."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. l6y 
 
 Of this subject, liowever, 1 presume my readers will 
 think I have given them enough ; 1 shall, tiierefore, 
 revert to another friend of Sir Joshua's, poor Gold- 
 smith, who left this world on the 4th of April, 1774; 
 the first too of those on whom the epitaphs had been 
 so playfully written, as I have before alluded to in 
 another place. 
 
 Just before his death, he had nearly completed a 
 design for the execution of an " Universal Dictionary, 
 of tiie Arts and Sciences.'^ Of this he had published 
 the Prospectus, or, at least, had distributed co|)ies of 
 it amongst his friends aud acquaintances. It did not 
 meet with any warm encouragement, however, from 
 the booksellers, although Sir Joshua Reynolds, John- 
 son, Grarrick, and several otiiers of his literary 
 connections had promised him their assistance on 
 various subjects : and the design was, I believe, 
 entirely given up even previous to his demise. 
 
 In the Dedication of his ''' Deserted AHllage'' to 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, already noticed, Goldsmith 
 alludes to the death of his eldest brother, Heury, 
 tiie clergyman ; aud his various biographers record 
 another, x\Iaurice, who was a younger brother, and of 
 whom it is stated, by Bishop Percy, that having 
 been bred to no business, he, upon some occasion, 
 complained to Oliver that lie found it difficult to live 
 like a gentleman. To this Oliver wrote him an answer, 
 begging that he would, without delay, quit so unprofit- 
 able a trade, and betake himself to some handicraft 
 employment. Maurice wisely as the Bishop adds, 
 took the hint, and bound himself apprentice to a 
 cabinet-maker, and when out of his indentures set up 
 in business for himself, in which he was engaged 
 during the viceroyalty of the late Duke of Rutland ; 
 and his shop being in Dublin, he was noticed by Mr. 
 Orde, since Lord Bolton, the Lord Lieutenant's 
 Secretary, who recommended him to the patronage of 
 the Duke, out of regard to the memory of his brother. 
 
 In consequence of this, he received the appointment 
 of inspector of licences in that metropolis, aud vv'as
 
 108 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 also employed as mace bearer, by the Royal Irish 
 Academy, then just established. Both of these places 
 were compatible with his business : and in the former 
 he i;ave [noof of great integrity by detecting a fraud 
 committed on the revenue in his department; and one 
 by which he himself might liave profited, if lie had not 
 been a man of principle. He has now been dead not 
 more than fifteen years ; I enter more particularly into 
 his history, from having seen the following passage 
 in one of Olivers letters to him : *' You talked of being 
 my only brother — I don't understand you. Where is 
 Charles?" 
 
 This, indeed, was a question which Maurice could 
 not answer then, nor for many years afterwards ; but 
 as the anecdote is curious, and I have it from a friend 
 on whose authority I can rely, I shall give it a place 
 here nearly in his own words. 
 
 Aly fiiend informed me, that whilst travelling in 
 the stage coach towards Ireland, in the autumn of 
 1701j he was joined at Oswestry by a venerable look- 
 ing gentleman, who, in the course of the morning, 
 mentioned that his name was Goldsmith ; when one 
 of the party observed, that if he was going to Ireland, 
 tliat name would be a passport for him. The stranger 
 smiled, and asked the reason why? to which the other 
 replied, that the memory of Oliver was embalmed 
 amongst his countrymen. A tear glistened in the 
 strangers eye, who immediately answered, " I am 
 his brother." The gentleman who had first made the 
 observation on the name, looked doubtingly, and said, 
 *' He has but one brother living ; I know him 
 well.*' " True," replied the stranger, " for it may be 
 said that I am ri'>en from the dead, having been for 
 many years supposed to be no longer in the land of 
 the living. I am Charles the youngest of the family. 
 Oliver I know is dead ; but of Henry and Maurice I 
 know nothing." 
 
 On being informed of various particulars of his 
 family, the stranger then told his simple tale ; which 
 was, that having heard of his brother Noll mixing in*
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I69 
 
 the first society in London, he took it for granted that 
 liis fortune was made, and that he could soon make a 
 brother's also: he therefore left home without notice; 
 but soon found, on his arrival in London, that the 
 picture he had formed of his brother's situation was 
 too highly coloured ; that Noll would not introduce 
 him to his great friends, and, in fact, that, although 
 out of a jail, he was also often out of a lodging. 
 
 Disgusted with this entrance into high life, and 
 ashamed to return home, the young man left London 
 without acquainting his brother with his intentions, or 
 even writing to his friends in Ireland ; and proceeded, 
 a poor adventurer, to Jamaica, where he lived, for 
 many years, without ever renewing an intercourse with 
 his friends, and by whom he was, of course, supposed 
 to be dead ; though Oliver niay, at first, have imagined 
 that he had returned to Ireland. Years now passed 
 on, and young Charles, by industry and perseverance, 
 began to save some property ; soon after which he mar- 
 ried a widow lady of some fortune, when his young 
 family requiring the advantages of further education, 
 he determined to return to England, to examine into 
 the state of society, and into the propriety of bringing 
 over his wife and family; on this project he was then 
 engaged, and was proceeding to Ireland to visit his 
 native home, and with the intention of making himself 
 known to such of his relatives as might still be living. 
 His plan, however, was, to conceal his good fortune 
 until he should ascertain their aliection and esteem 
 for him. 
 
 On arriving at Dublin, the party separated; and 
 my friend, a few weeks afterwards, returning from 
 the north, called at the Hotel where he knew Mr. 
 Goldsmith intended to reside. There he met him; 
 when the amiable old man, for such he really was. 
 told him that he had put his plan in execution ; had 
 given himself as much of the appearance of poverty as 
 he could with propriety, and thus proceeded to the 
 shop of his brother Maurice, where he inquired for sev- 
 fcral articles, and then noticed the name over the door.
 
 170 MExVlOIRS OF 
 
 asking if it had any connection with the famous Dr. 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 " I am his brother, his sole surviving brother," 
 said Maurice. 
 
 " What then/^ replied the stranger, " is become of 
 the others?" 
 
 '^ Henry has long been dead; and poor Charles has 
 not been heard of for many years." 
 
 " Bat suppose Charles were alive," said the 
 stranger, " would his friends acknowledge him?" 
 
 " Oh yes !" replied Maurice, " gladly indeed !" 
 
 *' He lives, then ; but as poor as when he left you." 
 
 Maurice instantly leaped over his counter, hugged 
 liim in his arms, and weeping with pleasure, cried 
 '' Welcome — welcome — here you shall find a home 
 and a brother." 
 
 It is needless to add, that this denouement was 
 perfectly agreeable to the stranger, who was then pre- 
 paring to return to Jamaica to make his proposed fam- 
 ily arrangements; but my friend having been engaged 
 for the next twenty years in traversing the four quar- 
 ters of the globe, being himself a wanderer, has never, 
 since that period, had an opportunity of making in- 
 quiries into the welfare of the stranger, for whom he 
 had, indeed, formed a great esteem, even en a few 
 days acquaintance. 
 
 Sir Joshua was much affected by the death of Gold- 
 smith, to whom he had been a ATry sincere friend. He 
 did not touch the pencil for that day, a circumstance 
 most extraordinary for him, w ho passed no day with- 
 out a line. He acted as executor, and managed in the 
 best manner, the confused state of ti»e Doctor's affairs. 
 At first he intended, as I have already slated, to have 
 made a grand funeral for him, assisted by several sub- 
 scriptions to (hat intent, and to have buried him in liie 
 Abbey, his pall-bearers to have been Lord Shelburne, 
 Lord Louth, Sir Joshua himself, Burke, Garrick, 
 &c. ; but, o!i second thoughts, he resolved to have him 
 buried in the plainest and most private manner possi- 
 ble, observing, that the most ponjpous funerals lU'^
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. lyi 
 
 soon past and forgotten 5 and that it would be much 
 more prudent to apply what money could be pro- 
 cured, to the purpose of a more substantial and more 
 lasting memorial of his departed friend, by a monu- 
 meot; and he was, accordingly, privately interred in 
 the Temple burying ground. 
 
 Sir Joshua went himself to AYestminster Abbey, 
 and iixed upon the place where Goldsmith's monu- 
 nient now stands, over a door in the Poets' Corner. 
 He thought himself lucky in being able to iind so 
 conspicuous a situation for it^ as there scarcely re- 
 mained another so good. 
 
 Nollekens, the sculptor, was employed to make 
 the monument, and Dr. Johnson composed the epi. 
 taph. 
 
 There is a very fine portrait, which is the only 
 original one, of Dr. Goldsmith, now at Knowle, the 
 seat of the Duke of Dorset, painted by Sir Josliua. 
 
 A lady, who was a great friend of Dr. Goldsmith, 
 earnestly desired to have a lock of his hair to keep as 
 a memorial of him ; and his coffin was opened again, 
 after it liad been closed up, to procure this lock of hair 
 from his head ; this relick is still in the possession of 
 the family, and is the only one of the kind whicli has 
 been preserved of the Doctor. 
 
 An observation of Dr. Bealtie, respecting the de- 
 ceased poet, in a letter to Mrs. Montague, must not 
 be passed over. ^^ I am sorry for poor Goldsmith. 
 There were some things in his temper which I did 
 not like ; but I liked many things in his genius; and I 
 was sorry to find, last summer, that he looked upon 
 me as a person who seemed to stand between him and 
 liis interest. However, wlien next we meet, all this 
 will be forgotten, and the jealousy of authors, which, 
 Dr. Gregory used to say, was next to that of physi- 
 cians, Avill be no more." 
 
 Soon after Goldsmith's death, some people dining 
 with Sir Joshua were commenting rather freely on 
 some part of his works, which, in their opinion, neither 
 discovered talent nor ori2:inalitv. To this, Dr. John- 
 
 A a
 
 173 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 soil listened, in his usual growling manner, for some 
 time; when, at length, his patience being exhausted, 
 lie rose, with great dignity? looked them full in the 
 face, and exclaimed, '* If nobody was suftered to 
 abuse poor Goldy, but those wlio could write as well, 
 he would have few censors.'' 
 
 Yet, on another occasion, soon after the death of 
 Goldsmith, a lady of his acquaintance was condoling 
 with Dr. Johnson on their loss, saying, " Poor Gold- 
 smith ! I am exceedingly sorry for him; he was every 
 man's friend !" 
 
 " No, Madam," answered Johnson, ^'' he was no 
 man's friend!" 
 
 In this seemingly harsh sentence, however, lie 
 merely alluded to the careless and imprudent conduct 
 of Goldsmith, as being no friend even to himself, and 
 when that is the case, a man is rendered incapable of 
 being of any essential service to any one else. 
 
 It has been generally circulated, and believed by 
 many, that Goldsmith was a mere fool in conversation ; 
 but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated by 
 such as were really fools. In allusion to tiiis notion 
 Mr. Horace Walpole, who admired his writings, said 
 he was '• an inspired idiot," and Garrick described 
 Lira as one, 
 
 " for shortness calPd Noll, 
 
 Who wrote Uke an angel, but talk'd like poor Poll." 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned to Boswell that he 
 frequently had heard Goldsmith talk warmly of the 
 pleasure of being liked, and observe how hard it 
 would be if literary excellence should preclude a man 
 form that satisfaction, which he perceived it often did, 
 from the envy which attended it; and therefore Sir 
 Joshua was convinced, that he was intentionally more 
 absurd, in order to lessen himself in social intercourse, 
 trusting that his character would be sufficiently sup- 
 ported by his works. If it was his intention to appear 
 absurd in company, he was often very successful©
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I73 
 
 This, iu my own opinion, was really tlie case; and I 
 also think Sir Joshua was so sensible of the advantage 
 of it, that he, yet in a much less degree, followed the 
 same idea, as he never had a wish to impress his com. 
 pany with any awe of the great abilities with which 
 he was endowed, especially wiien in the society of 
 those high in rank. 
 
 I have heard Sir Joshua say, that he has frequently 
 seen the whole company struck with an awful silence 
 at the entrance of Goldsmith, but that Goldsmith has 
 quickly dispelled the charm, by his boyish and social 
 manners, and he then has soon become the plaything 
 and favourite of the company. 
 
 His epitaph in Westminster Al>bey, written by Dr. 
 Johnson, is a true character of the eccentric poet. 
 
 Among the various tril)utes to his memory, w\is one 
 by Courtney Melmotli, (Mr. Pratt, I believe,) dedi- 
 cated to Sir Joshua, " vvlio will naturally receive 
 with kindness whatever is designed as a testimony of 
 justice to a friend that is no more." In this, the dedi- 
 cator has well attempted to pourtray the feelings of Sir 
 Joshua's heart. 
 
 Before I dismiss poor Goldsmith from the stage, it 
 may be proper to notice another dedication to Sir 
 Joshua, prefixed to that edition of his works publish- 
 ed by Evans, in which he says — 
 
 *• Sir, 
 
 " I am iiappy in having your permission to 
 inscribe to you this complete edition of the truly poeti- 
 cal works of your late ingenious friend, Oliver Gold- 
 smith. They will prove a lasting monument of his 
 genius. Every lover of science must deeply lament 
 that this excellent writer, after long struggling with 
 adversity, finished ids mortal career just as his reputa- 
 tion was firmly established, and he had acquired the 
 friendship of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr. 
 Edmund Burke, the Dean of Derry, Mr. Beauclerk^ 
 jg and Mr. Cumberland, names which adorn our age
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and nation. It is, Sir, being merely an echo of the 
 jrnhlic voice, to celebrate your admirable productions, 
 
 ' In wliich, to latest time, the artist lives.' 
 
 ^' Kad Dr. Goldstnith understood the art of painting, 
 of which lie modestly declares himself ignorant, his 
 pen Mould have done justice to the merits of your 
 pencil. He chose a nobler theme, by declaring his 
 ardent aifcction for the virtues of ijaiir heart. That 
 you may long continue, Sir, the ornament of your 
 country and the deliglit of your friends, is tiie sincere 
 wish of your most obliged humble servant, 
 
 "T.Evans." 
 
 In closing the year i77^^ it is necessary to take a 
 short view of his sixth discourse, which was delivered 
 on the 10th of December. 
 
 It is to be observed in this place, that one year 
 had elapsed without his having given a discourse, 
 which was the first omission since its commencement ; 
 but as these orations were only given on the evenings 
 when the gold medals were presented to successful 
 candidates as the prize, it had been previously deter- 
 mined in the last year, that as genius was not of quick 
 growth it would be fully sufficient to bestow the prizes 
 in future only once in two years, and this yule has 
 since been regularly followed. 
 
 In this discourse he took a view of the best princi- 
 ples in that part of a painter's art, called " Imitation ;*' 
 and, after shewing where Genius commences, and 
 where it finds a limit, he proved that invention was 
 acquired by being conversant with the inventions of 
 others. To this he subjoined some rules for allowable 
 imitation, marked the legal extent of borrowing, and 
 pointed out what might fairly be collected from each 
 specific school of the art. 
 
 As this discourse, however, was more of profession- 
 al than of general import, I shall not discuss it at any g
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I75 
 
 length, but shall merely insert two or there passages 
 which strongly mark the originality of his own genius, 
 and may be said almost to disprove the truth of his 
 position, that Invention and Genius are the children, 
 or at least the pupils, of Imitation. 
 
 " Genius is supposed to be a power of producing 
 excellencies which are out of the reach of the rules of 
 art; a power which no precepts can teach, and which 
 no industry can acquire." — 
 
 " But the truth is, that the degree of excellence 
 which proclaims Genius is different, in different times 
 and places; and what shows it to he so is, that man- 
 kind have often changed their opinion upon this 
 matter." — 
 
 " What we now call Genius begins, not where 
 rules, abstractedly taken, end; but where known vul- 
 gar and trite rules have no longer any place." — 
 
 " Invention is one of the greatest marks of Genius ; 
 but if we consult experience, we shall find tliat it is 
 by being conversant with the invention of others, that 
 we learn to invent ; as by reading the thouglits of 
 others, we learn to think." — r 
 
 ^' The mind is but a barren soil; a soil which is 
 soon exhausted, and will produce no crop, or only 
 one, unless it be continually fertilized and enriched 
 with foreign matter." — 
 
 Such were a few of the most striking general truths 
 in this discourse ; but the truth is, that nona of 
 his discourses possess more beauties than this one, 
 though, for the most part, strictly of a professional 
 nature. One anecdote related in it shall close the 
 subject. 
 
 " I remember," said Sir Joshua, " several years 
 ago, to have conversed at Rome with an artist 
 of great fame throughout Europe ; he was not without 
 a considerable degree of abilities, but these abilities 
 were by no means equal to his own opinion of them, 
 
 " From the reputation he had acquired, he too fond- 
 ly concluded that he stood iu the same rank when 
 compared with his predecessors, as he held with re-
 
 176 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 gartl to his miserable conterapory rivals. In couverjia- 
 tion about some particulars of the works of Raftaelle, 
 he seemed to have, or to affect to have, a very obscure 
 memory of them. He told me that he had not set his 
 foot iu the A^atican for fifteen years together; that lie 
 had been in treaty to copy a capital picture of Raf- 
 faelle, but that the business liad gone off; however, if 
 the agreement had held, his copy would have greatly 
 exceeded the original ! 
 
 " The merit of this artist, however great we may 
 suppose it, 1 am sure would have been far greater, 
 and his presumption would have been far less, if he 
 had visited the V^atican, as in reason he ought to have 
 done, at least once every montli iu his life.'' 
 
 In the year 1775? or about that time, a new ar- 
 rangement took place in Sir Joshua's favourite society, 
 the Literary Club, which now^ changed its original 
 plan of supping once a Aveek, into dinner parties 
 once a fortnight, during the parliamentary sessions. 
 
 In this year also he paid a compliment to another 
 club, of which he had long been a member ; this was 
 a present of a portrait of himself for the dining-room 
 of the Dilletanti Society, held in Pall Mall. It is a 
 three quarter length, and he appears in his own hair, 
 and in a loose robe : it has since been engraved ia 
 mezzotinto by James Watson. 
 
 This Society of Dilletanti has the merit of being, in 
 some measure, the harbinger of all the others for the 
 Encouragement of the Arts ; for although it was at 
 first supposed to have been established upon political 
 principles, yet a few years at least before Sir Joshua's 
 introduction to it, the members had at last the good 
 sense to alter its original objects (if they ever were 
 such,) and to turn their thoughts to the formation of a 
 public academy. For this purpose they held some com- 
 munications with the Society of Artists, then recently 
 established, but some jealousies about the govern- 
 ment and regulation of the proposed institution pre- 
 vented any union from taking place.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I77 
 
 This, however, did not discourage the Dilletauti 
 members, who, without any apparent ostentation, si- 
 lently directed their exertions in favour of the arts, 
 and it must be acknowledged were certainly of consid- 
 erable service. 
 
 It was in this year, (1775,) that they were first 
 enabled, by the accumulation of a fund set apart for 
 the purpose, to support a student at the Italian Capi- 
 tal, whilst engaged in his professional acquirements ; 
 since which they have sent out several classical travel- 
 lers, and patronized some valuable classical produc- 
 tions of the press on Grecian Antiquities. 
 
 In this year was painted that portrait of his friend 
 Dr. Johnson, which represents him as reading and 
 near-sighted. This was very displeasing to Johnson, 
 who when he saw it, reproved Sir Joshua for paint- 
 ing him in that manner and attitude, saying, *"' It is 
 not friendly to hand down to posterity tiie imperfec- 
 tions of any man.'^ But, on the contrary. Sir Joshua 
 himself esteemed it as a circumstance in nature to be 
 remarked as characterizing the person represented, 
 and therefore as giving additional value to the por- 
 trait. 
 
 Of this circumstance Mrs. Thrale says, •• I ob- 
 served that he would not be known by posterity, for 
 his defects only, let Sir Joshua do his worst:*' and 
 when she adverted to hU own picture painted with 
 the ear trumpet, and done in this year for Mr. Thrale, 
 she records Johnson to have answered, '^ He may 
 paint himself as deaf as he chooses; but I will not be 
 blhiking Sam.'' 
 
 It is evideut, however, that Sir Joshua meant not 
 to hurt his feelings : indeed, his general politeness 
 and attention at all times, both to the comfort and to 
 the foibles of his friends, are particularly exemplified 
 in this year, even by a trifling occurrence, described 
 by Mr. Boswell ; when being engaged along with that 
 gentleman and Dr. Johnson to dine with Mr. Cam- 
 bridge at his Twickenham villa, Sir Joshua being 
 anxious to fulfil an engagement at llichmond, early
 
 178 MExMOlRS OF 
 
 in the day, set oif by himself on horseback, leaving 
 Jiis coach for his friends, uho were not ready, to ac- 
 company him, in consequence of Johnson's tardiness. 
 
 On the arrival of the latter, and on his entering 
 ]\Ir. Cambridge's library, he immediately ran to the 
 shelves, when Sir Joshua whispered to Boswell, 
 *' He runs to the books, as I do to the pictures; but I 
 have the advantage, as I can see more of the one than 
 he does of the other.*' 
 
 In the latter part of the year 177i»^ be sent his por- 
 trait painted by himself, in the dress of his Universi- 
 ty honours, to be placed in the Gallery of illustrious 
 Painters at Florence, in consequence of his having 
 been chosen a member of the Imperial Academy of 
 that cit3', and in compliance with its regulations, by 
 which, in return for the honour conferred, the newly 
 elected member is required to present bis portrait, 
 painted by liis own hand ; a circumstance which has 
 produced the most curious and valuable collection of 
 portraits of eminent painters in the world. 
 
 The following inscription in Sir Joshua's own 
 hand is on the back of the portrait, painted on a pannel 
 of mahoiranv: — 
 
 " JOSHUA REYNOLDS, EQUES AURATUS, 
 
 ACADEML^ REGI.i: LOMDINI PRiESES, 
 
 JL'KIS CIVILIS APUD OXONIEXSES DOCTOR,: 
 
 KEGl.E SOCIETATIS, ANTIQUARIiE, 
 
 LONDINI SOCIUS. 
 
 IIOXORARIUS FLORENTINAS APUD ACADEMI.E 
 
 IMPERIALIS SOCIUS, NEC NON OPPIDI NATALIS, DICTI 
 
 PLIMPTON COMITAT. DEVON. 
 
 PR^.FECTUS JUSTITIARIUS MORUMQUE CENSOR." 
 
 This has since been engraved by C. Townly. 
 
 In the year 177i>? Mr. Nath. Hone made an ex- 
 hibition of several of his works, at a great room nearly- 
 opposite to Old Slaughter's Cofifee-house. St. Mar-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 # 179 
 
 tiii's-lane. The collection contained between sixty 
 and seventy paintings : among theiu were two whicli 
 claimed particular notice. It seemed that the first 
 idea of this exhibition owed its origin to pique, and 
 something of envy in the artist towards Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, and this opinion is suggested by the fol- 
 lowing anecdotes. 
 
 In the exhibition of the Koyal Academy, ly/O, 
 there was a picture painted by Mr. Hone, entitled 
 '' Two Gentlemen in Masquerade;" they were rep- 
 resented as Capuchin Friars, regaling themselves 
 with punch. When this picture was sent for ad- 
 mission, one of the personages was represented as 
 squeezing a lemon, while the other was stirring the 
 liquor with the crucifix, at the end of his rosary : but 
 the Council considered the latter circumstance as too 
 indecorous to allow the picture's being exhibited in 
 that state ; and the artist was requested to alter the 
 crucifix. This request was complied with, but Mr. 
 Hone was mucli offended, when in truth, he ought 
 rather to have been pleased, with their having pointed 
 out an impropriety, which might not have struck him 
 upon the first idea of his picture. However, the de- 
 sired alteration was made, and a ladle introduced, 
 which he painted with a substance easily washed 
 away ; and the picture was again displayed at his own 
 exhibition in its primitive state. 
 
 The other picture, which was the leading feature of 
 his exhibition, represented an old man, half-length, 
 the size of life, painted after the model from which 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds had painted his Count Ugolino. 
 This picture, which Mr. Hone called the Conjurer, 
 was intended as a satire upon Sir Joshua's method of 
 composing his pictures. Yet Mr. Hone's ridicule was 
 not very apparent, for his figure represented little 
 more than an old man, with a wand in liis liand, per- 
 forming incantations, by which a number of prints and 
 sketches were made to float in the air, all of which 
 were representations of those originals from which Sir 
 Joshua had taken the actions of the figures and
 
 480' V MExMOIUS OF 
 
 groupes which he had introduced into some of his 
 principal portraits. 
 
 As this picture, which did not display much vigour 
 of mind, was evidently meant as an attack upon the 
 President, the Council of the Royal Academy thought 
 it prudent to exclude it from their exhibition, which 
 again greatly displeased Mr. Hone; and he, like 
 many others, disappointed in his private schemes, ap- 
 pealed to the public by an exhibition of his own. 
 
 Instead of trusting to my own temper in animad- 
 verting any farther on such an attack on this great 
 painter, I shall give a passage, and perhaps with more 
 ibrce, from the pen of a writer Avho, whatever his 
 merits or demerits may be, cannot be accused of par- 
 tiality for the subject of our biography. He says, 
 speaking of Hone, " This gentleman should be almost 
 exclusively arranged as a portrait painter, as he paint- 
 ed but two historical compositions. The first was a 
 satire on monkish licentiousness; and the other was 
 the exhibition of a jnctorial conjurer^ displaying his 
 cleverness in tlie arts of deceiving the sight. This last 
 performance was intended as an exposition of the 
 manoeuvring, in respect to attitudes, which was so 
 attributed to Sir Joshua Reynolds, This vindictive 
 eflbrt was sent by its parent to the annual exhibition ; 
 but was rejected by the Academicians with becoming 
 scorn, as the issue of a little mind, and powers of fancy 
 most scandalously directed :'' — a keenness of rebuke 
 wliich has well employed the pen of the author. 
 
 lu the course of this year, Sir Joshua had finished 
 Jiis well known picture of " Venus chiding Cupid.*' 
 It was done for Sir Brooke Boothby, who in 1794 sold 
 it to Sir Thomas Bernard. 
 
 Boswell, about this time, records an observation of 
 Dr. Johnson's, which was highly descriptive of Sir 
 Joshua's placidity and evenness of disposition ; not an 
 overstrained stoicism, but that happy equability which 
 proceeds both from mind and disposition. Whilst 
 conversing on melancholy, Johnson said, that " some 
 men, and very thinking men too, have not these vex-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 181 
 
 ing thoughts. Sir Joshua Reynolds is the same all 
 the year rouud." 
 
 A character of the Honourable Mrs. P., written by 
 Sir Joshua, was published in the newspapers of the 
 day, and the printer had taken the liberty of altering 
 a word in it, to make it, as he thought, much better, 
 but which Sir Joshua thought made it much other- 
 wise. In speaking of this afterwards to the late Caleb 
 Whiteford, Sir Joshua complained of the absurd 
 alteration, and said it had quite destroyed the simpli- 
 city of the whole, when Whiteford made the compari- 
 son of a pot of broth over the tire, into which a lump 
 of soot falls from the chimney, and the whole mess is 
 spoiled. 
 
 What the word was which the printer expunged I 
 do not know ; but the character here inserted is in its 
 original form. 
 
 Character of the Honourable Mrs. P. hj Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, December 2ist. 17/5. 
 
 ^' The death of this Honourable Lady was occasion- 
 ed by a stroke of the palsy, which happened soon 
 after her lying-in of a daughter; of this she appeared 
 to be recovering ; but receiving a second stroke, and 
 soon after that a third, it put an end to the life of one 
 of the most valuable of women. 
 
 " Her amiable disposition, her softness and gentle- 
 ness of manners, endeared her to every one that had 
 the happiness of knowing her : her whole pleasure 
 and ambition were centered in a consciousness of 
 properly discharging all the duties of a wife, a mother, 
 and a sister; and she neither sought for, nor expected, 
 fame out of her own house. As she made no ostenta- 
 tion of her virtues, she excited no envy ; but if there 
 had existed so depraved a being as to wish to wound 
 so fair a character, the most artful malignity must 
 have searched in vain for a weak part. Her virtues 
 were uniform, quiet, and habitual ; they were not oc- 
 casionally put on; she wore them continually; they
 
 18:3 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 seemed to grow to her and be a part of licrself ; and it 
 seemed to be impossible for her to lay them aside or 
 be other than what she was. Her person was eminent- 
 ly boautiful; but the expression of lier countenance 
 was far above all beauty that proceeds from regularity 
 of features only. The gentleness and benevolence of 
 • her disposition were so naturally impressed on every 
 look and motion, that without any affected effort or 
 assumed courtesy, she was sure to make every one 
 lier friend that had ever spoke to her, or ever seen her. 
 
 " In so exalted a character it is scarce worth men- 
 tioning her skill and exact judgment in the polite arts; 
 she seemed to possess, by a kind of intuition, that 
 propriety of taste and right thinking, which others but 
 imperfectly acquire by long labour and application.'' 
 
 At the time when I was a student at the Koyal 
 Academy, I was accidentally repeating to bir Joshua 
 the instructions on colouring I had heard there given 
 by an eminent painter who then attended as visitor. 
 Sir Joshua replied, that this painter was undoubtedly 
 a very sensible man, but by no means a good colour- 
 ist.; adding, that there was not a man then on earth who 
 had the least notion of colouring; " we, all of us," 
 said he, " have it equally to seek for and find out, as 
 at present it is totally lost to the art." 
 
 Strong objections were often certainly made to Sir 
 Joshua's process or mode of colouring; but perhaps 
 the best answer to all these is in the following anec- 
 dote. 
 
 One of these critics, who passed for a great patron 
 of the art, Avas complaining strongly to a judicious 
 friend of Sir Joshua's '* flying colours" and express- 
 ing great regret at the circumstances as it prevented 
 him from having his picture painted by the president. 
 To all this his friend calmly replied, that he should 
 reflect that any painter who merely wished to make his 
 colours stand, ha<l only to purchase them at the first 
 colour shop he might come to; but that it must be 
 remembered that " every picture of Sir Joshua's was 
 an experiment of art made by an ingenious man, —
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 183 
 
 and that the art achmnced by such experiments, even 
 where they failed. 
 
 lu tine, what Gainsborough said of the President is 
 strictly true : that in his opinion Sir Joshua's pictures 
 in their most decayed state were better than those of 
 any other artist when in their best. 
 
 I once humbly endeavoured to persuade Sir Joshua 
 to abandon those fleeting colours lake and carmine, 
 which it was his practice to use in painting his flesh, 
 and to adopt vermilion in their stead as infinitely more 
 durable although not so exactly true to nature as the 
 former. I remember he looked on his hand and said 
 ^' I can see no vermilion in flesh." I replied, " but 
 did not Sir Godfrey Kneller always use vermilion in 
 his flesh colour,'' when Sir Joshua answered rather 
 sharply, ^' What signifies what a man used who could 
 not colour. But you may use it if you will!'' 
 
 It is to be observed, however, that Sir Joshua 
 made use of vermilion himself in all his latter works, 
 finding by experience the ill efl'ects of lake and car- 
 mine in his early productions. 
 
 Ifany other apology were necessary for Sir Joshua's 
 mode of practice, it may be found in his own words, 
 in one of the fragments, as preserved by Mr. Malone ; 
 there he says, '^ I was always willing to believe that 
 my uncertainty of proceeding in my W(>rks, that is, my 
 never being sure of my hand, and my frequent altera- 
 tions, arose from a refined taste, which could not 
 acquiesce in any thing short of a high degree of ex- 
 cellence. I had not an opportunity of being early 
 initiated in the principles of Colouring: no man in- 
 deed could teach me. If I have never been settled 
 with respect to colouring, let it at tlie same time be 
 remembered, that my unsteadiness in this respect 
 proceeded from an inordinate desire to possess every 
 kind of excellence that I sa\v in the works of others, 
 without considering that there arc in colouring, as in 
 style, excellencies which are incompatible with each 
 other: however, this pursuit, or indeed any other 
 similar pursuit, prevents the artist from being tired of
 
 181 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 his art. We all know how often those masters, who 
 sought after colouring, changed their manner; whilst 
 others, merely from not seeing various modes, ac- 
 quiesced all their lives in that with which they set out. 
 On the contrary, 1 tried every effect of colour, and by 
 leaving out every colour in its turn, showed every 
 colour that I could do without it. As I alternately left 
 out every colour, I tried every new colour; and, often, 
 as is well known, failed. The former practice, I am 
 aware, may be compared by those whose first object 
 is ridicule, to that of the poet mentioned in the Spec- 
 tator, who In a poem of twenty-four books, contrived 
 in each book to leave out a letter. But I was influ- 
 enced by no such idle or foolish affectation. My fickle- 
 ness in the mode of colouring arose from an eager 
 desire to attain the highest excellence. This is the 
 only merit I can assume to myself from my conduct in 
 that respect." 
 
 But it was not to experiments on his own colouring 
 alone that Sir Joshua trusted for gaining experience ; 
 for he actually tried experiments with several capital 
 ancient paintings of the Venetian School, in order, if 
 possible, to ascertain their grounds, to trace their 
 process in laying on, and to analyze the chemical 
 mixture of tlieir various tints. This circumstance has 
 been noticed by Mr. Malone, and is very just — an 
 experiment too, conducted at an immense expense, 
 for each painting thus investigated was, of course, 
 totally destroyed. 
 
 Sir Joshua's early and continued success is, how- 
 ever, very well delineated by himself in one of those 
 fragments already mentioned, where he says, " I 
 considered myself as playing a great game, and, in- 
 stead of beginning to save money, I laid it out faster 
 than 1 got it, in purchasing the best examples of art 
 that could be procured ; for I even borrowed money 
 for this purpose. The possessing portraits by Titian, 
 Vandyke, Rembrandt, &c., I considered as the best 
 kind of wealth. By studying carefully the works of 
 great masters, this advantage is obtained; we find that
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 183 
 
 cel'tain niceties of expression are capable of being 
 executed, which otherwise we might suppose beyond 
 the reach of art. This gives us a confidence in our- 
 selves, and we are thus incited to endeavour at not 
 only the same happiness of execution, but also at 
 other congenial excellencies. Study, indeed, consists 
 in learning to see nature, and may be caUed the art 
 of using other men's minds. By tliis kind of contem- 
 plation and exercise we are taught to think in their 
 way, and sometimes to attain their excellence. Thus, 
 for instance, if I had never seen any of the works ot" 
 Corregio, I should never perhaps have remarked in 
 nature the expression which I find in one of his pieces ; 
 or if I had remarked it, 1 might liave tiiought it too 
 diiRcult, or perhaps impossible, to be executed." 
 
 It must have been reasons such as these which 
 could ever induce him to make a copy from any 
 master, and only when he desired to possess him- 
 self of some peculiar excellence which another pos- 
 sessed before him, and when he did condescend to 
 copy, its degree of correctness may be judged of 
 by an instance which I heard liimself relate. The 
 Chevalier Vanloo, the eminent portrait painter, being 
 in England, one day M'hen he paid a visit to Sir 
 Joshua, boasted of his great knowledge in the woi'ks 
 of the different famous painters, saying he could not 
 be deceived or imposed upon by a copy for an original. 
 Sir Joshua then shewed him a head of an old woman 
 which he had copied from one by Rembrandt, and 
 without letting him into the secret asked his opinion 
 upon it. The French painter, after a very careful in- 
 spection into it, said he could pronounce that it was 
 undoubtedly an original picture by Reml)randt ! 
 
 Of Sir Joshua's paintings, any accident that befel 
 them seems of sufficient importance to record. In a 
 small room next to his own painting room, there were 
 a great number of those portraits which had been re- 
 jected and were left upon his hands ; round the sides 
 of this room were shelves, on w^liich were placed large 
 headS; casts from the antique, and at a great height^
 
 186 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 fur the room was lofty; and over these hung some old 
 portraits hy Lely and others. In this room as I was 
 one day busily employed in painting a drapery to one 
 of his portraits, I suddenly heard a noise as if some- 
 thing had fallen, when looking up to the place, I saw 
 that one of tliose pictures by Lely had dropt from its 
 nail, and falling on the shelf, and thence forward, 
 threw down two or three very large plaister heads. 
 I had but a moment to get up in the corner of this 
 little room, when the whole fell down on the floor, 
 just where I had been at work, with a violence that 
 would have certainly proved fatal to me, had I not 
 got in time out of the way, as a moment would have 
 been too late. The easel was knocked down, together 
 with the picture on which I was at work, and driven 
 with violence through five or six of those unfortunate 
 rejected portraits, as they happened to be placed one 
 before the other, whilst the floor was covered with the 
 fragments of the broken plaister heads which were 
 dashed to pieces by the fall. The great noise which 
 this made alarmed even Sir Joshua, although deaf, 
 and brought him into the room in a hurry to know 
 what was the matter, when he stared with surprize to 
 behold the wreck, but soon calmly smiled at a misfor- 
 tune, which, indeed, did not require reparation. 
 
 As I have hinted at the subject of his drapery's 
 liaving been frequently executed by the hands of his 
 scholars, it is bu^t just to remark in this place, that the 
 whole together of the picture, was at last his own, as 
 the imitation of particular stuiTs is not the work of 
 genius but is to be acquired easily by practice, and 
 this was what his pupils could do by care and time 
 more than he himself chose to bestow, but his own 
 slight and masterly work was still the best. 
 
 No painter like Sir Joshua knew how to make his 
 drapery answer the purpose of enriching his figures, 
 as may be seen in his excellent portrait of Geneial 
 Tarlton : for though the figure is merely in a close 
 jacket, yet, by making it unite, in a certain degree, 
 with the flags in the back ground, it assumes a rich-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I87 
 
 ness unexampled : others may have done the same by 
 accident, in him it was principle. 
 
 Further, in respect to this part of the subject, I re- 
 member once when I was disposing the folds of 
 drapery with great care on the lay figure, in order to 
 paint from it into one of his pictures, he remarked that 
 it would not nake good drapery if set so artificially, 
 and that wheviever it did not fall into such folds as 
 were agreeable, 1 should try to get it better, by taking 
 the chance of another toss of the drapery stuff, and by 
 that means I should get nature, which is always 
 superior to art. 
 
 Besides the assistance which Sir Joshua had from 
 his pupils, he also employed Peter Toms to paint 
 drapery for him, who was considered as the most per- 
 fect auxiliary in that department of painting that ex- 
 isted in his time. He was a Royal Academician, and 
 son of Mr. Toms the engraver, and had practised 
 some time in Ireland as a portrait painter. 
 
 Sir Joshua was fond of introducing animals or 
 birds occasionally into his composition, and these lie 
 painted with great spirit and life. At one time he kept 
 a very fine eagle which was chained to its perch, in 
 the back area of the house: when tliis bird died I 
 took the body and suspended it by strings so as to 
 give it an action as if it was alive, with its wings 
 spread, intending to paint a picture from it for myself. 
 But when Sir Joshua saw me about it he seemed 
 pleased, and told me to do it as well as I was able ; 
 and when I liad finished the work to tlie best of my 
 power, he took the picture and the bird into his own 
 painting room, and in about a quarter of an hour gave 
 it such touches of animation as made it truly fine, 
 though executed with a bad light, for I remember it 
 was too late in the day when he did it, having been 
 the niglit before at a masquerade, which had oc- 
 casioned his remaining very long in bed that day. 
 
 In this year it was that Mr. Doughty was placed 
 under the tuition of Sir Joshua. William Doughty 
 was a native of Yorkshire, and recommended to the 
 cc
 
 188 MEMOIRS Of 
 
 notice of Sir Joshua by the Rev. Mr. Mason. He 
 remained about three years in tlie house of Sir Joshua 
 us liis pupil, and at that time, by the desire of Mr. 
 31ason, and for him, painted the portrait of Gray the 
 poet by description, (as Gray was dead.) and the 
 help of an outline of his profile, which had been taken 
 by lamp light when he was living, and therefore 
 must have been very exact ; and this now remains 
 as the only portrait of Gray. It has been engraved for 
 the frontispiece of his works, and sculptured on his 
 liionument. Mr. Mason was the particular friend of 
 Gray, and the editor of his Avorks after his death, and 
 also the patron of Doughty. 
 
 On Doughty leaving Sir Joshua he went to Ireland 
 but did not succeed, although highly recommended 
 by his master as well as his patron, and also possess- 
 ing greater ability than his more fortunate rivals. He 
 then returned to London exceedingly dispirted, from 
 whence he took shipping for Bengal in I78O ; but be- 
 fore he left England had married one Margaret Joy, 
 a servant girl in Sir Joshua's liouse; she also accom- 
 panied him when he left England. Having been cap- 
 tured by the combined squadrons of France and 
 Spain, and carried to Lisbon, he there closed his 
 mortal career. In 1778 lie had exhibited a three 
 quarter length of his patron which possessed consid- 
 erable merit; and he scraped some excellent mezzo- 
 tinto portraits, among which, tiiose of the Rev. Mr. 
 Mason and Dr. Johnson w^ere the most perfect. His 
 widow continued her voyage to India, but died just 
 on her arrival at Bengal. 
 
 The following little circumstance, as it serves to 
 shew the kind disposition of Sir Joshua, I may be al- 
 lowed to mention, although it relates so much to my 
 own concerns. 
 
 The latter end of the year 177^ ^^as now arrived, 
 when it only wanted a few months of five years that I 
 had been with him, and when I also approached the 
 twenty-ninth year of my age; and I thought it high 
 time for me to do something for myself at so late a
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 189 
 
 period in the life of a pupil, having been prevented by 
 many causes from beginning my studies as a painter 
 in earlier youth. I therefore thought it proper to give 
 Sh' Joshua notice of my intentions some montiis before 
 my departure; this, however, was a task very disa- 
 greeable to me, and I deferred it from day to day, 
 but at last determined, and going to him one raorninii; 
 in the month of December, when lie was alone iu iiis 
 painting room, I began by saying that at the end of 
 May next it would be five years since I first came to 
 his house. Sir Joshua, with a gentleness in his man- 
 ner, said, that he thought that was full sufficient, and 
 that I was now well able to do for myself. 1 then re- 
 plied, that I was very sensible of the obligation I owed 
 him, and that I would stay any time longer he should 
 think proper if I could be of any service to him. Sir 
 Joshua said by no means, as I had already done him 
 much service: I answered that I feared I had not been 
 of so much assistance to him as I wished, but that it 
 was solely from want of power, and not inclination. 
 Sir Joshua was so obliging as to say, that I had heeu 
 very useful to him, more so than any scholar that had 
 ever been with him ; and he added, ^^ I hope we shall 
 assist each other as long as we live,^' and " that if I 
 would remain with him until the month of May he 
 should be very much obliged to me, as 1 could be 
 very useful to him ;" I answered, that I intended it, 
 and during that time wished to work as much as it 
 was iu my power for his service, and thus the conver- 
 sation ended. 
 
 On the 12th of May, 1776, I took my leave of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, to take my chance in the world, 
 and we parted with great cordiality; he said I was 
 perfectly in the right in my intentions, and that he 
 had been fully satisfied with my conduct whilst I had 
 been with him ; also, that he had no idea I should 
 have staid with him so long, " but now,'' added Sir 
 Joshua, ^' to succeed hi the art, you are to remember 
 that something more is to be done than that which did 
 formerly ; Kneller, Lely, and Hudson, will not do
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 now." I was rather surprized to hear him join the 
 former two names with that of Hudson, who was 
 so evidently their inferior as to be out of all com- 
 parison. 
 
 It was impossible to quit such a residence as Sir 
 Joshua's without reluctance, a house in which I had 
 spent so many happy hours, and although perfectly 
 satisfied in my own mind that what I did in this 
 respect was rigbt, and that it was higli time for me to 
 be acting for myself on the stage of life, yet to leave 
 that place, whicli was tiie constant resort of all the 
 eminent in every valuable quality, without an inward 
 regret, was not in my power. It is a melancholy re- 
 flection even at tliis moment, when one considers the 
 ravages a few short years have made in that unparal- 
 leled society which shone at his table, now all gone! 
 
 As this event was a considerable era in ray life 
 when I was no longer to be an inmate as one of the 
 family of Sir Joshua Reynolds, I may be suffered 
 to make a pause, and indulge my thoughts in the 
 pleasing recollection of many little circumstances and 
 matters of observation which occurred during the 
 space of five years; therefore, as a kind of summing 
 up, and closing of this period, I shall record in 
 this place several matters, perhaps pleasing only to 
 myself, from the lively remembrance tliey raise in ray 
 mind of those happy years of my life. 
 
 Of the political sentiments of Sir Joshua at that 
 time I may merely state, that during the contest 
 between England and America, so strongly was it 
 the opinion of many persons that we should conquer 
 them in the end, that Sir Joshua, who thought the 
 contrary, actually received five guineas each from 
 several gentlemen under a promise to pay them in 
 return one thousand pounds if ever he painted the 
 portrait of General Washington in England, and 
 which he was not to refuse to do in case the General 
 should be brought to him to that intent. 
 
 One day at dinner with Sir Joshua and his sister, 
 Miss Reynolds, 1 remarked to her that I had never
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 191 
 
 seen any picture by Jervas, which was rather extra- 
 ordinary, as he was a fashionable painter in liis day; 
 she said, " Nor I neither, I wonder how that should 
 be. I do not know that I ever saw one ;" then ad- 
 dressing Sir Joshua, she said, " Brother, how hap- 
 pens it that we never meet with any pictures by 
 Jervas the painter?" when he answered very briskly, 
 " because they are all up in the garret." 
 
 In so saying, he alluded to the destiny of bad 
 portraits, which, in the succeeding generation, are 
 thus treated with neglect and contempt. 
 
 I have heard Sir Joshua say that at the time when 
 he began his career in life as a painter, the admiration 
 of the works of Sir Godfrey Kneller was so prevalent 
 in England, that had any person ventured to name 
 those of Vandyke in competition with them, the 
 painters then living would have laughed him to scorn 
 as having advanced the greatest absurdity. This 
 instance serves to prove the power of prejudice and 
 fashion, which we often see so abundantly contribute 
 to prop up and exalt the lauded idol of the day. 
 
 Another anecdote (perhaps curious to painters,) Sir 
 Joshua used to relate, which he heard from Mr. 
 Jonathan Richardson the portrait painter. 
 
 When Richardson was a very young man, in the 
 course of liis practice he painted the portrait of a 
 very old lady, who, in conversation at the time of her 
 sitting to him, happened to mention, that when she 
 was a girl about sixteen years of age, she sat to Van- 
 dyke for her portrait. This immediately raised the 
 curiosity of Richardson, who asked a hundred ques- 
 tions, many of them unimportant: however the cir- 
 cumstance v^^hich seemed to him as a painter, to be of 
 the most consequence in the information he gained 
 was this : she said, she well remembered, that, at the 
 time when she sat to Vandyke, for her portrait, and 
 saw his pictures in his gallery, they appeared to have 
 a white and raw look, in comparison with the mel- 
 low and rich hue which we now see in them, and
 
 193 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 which time alouc must have given to them, adding 
 much to their excellence. 
 
 At the time tliat Gibbon's Roman History was 
 published, it was the fashion to admire it exceedingly. 
 Edmund J5urke conversing with Sir Joshua upon that 
 work, said, '• he had just then been reading it, that 
 he disliked the style of writing, that it was very 
 affected, mere frippery and tinsel." 
 
 Upon another occasion, Mr. Edmund Burke when 
 in conversation with Sir Joshua, remarked to him the 
 peculiar advantages which certain situations gave to 
 those who chose to make use of them ; " for instance, 
 you, Sir Joshua, from your character and the oppor- 
 tunities you have by your profession of being so much 
 in private with persons of the highest rank and power, 
 at moments, also, when they are at leisure and in good 
 humour, might obtain favours from them which would 
 give you a patronage almost equal to that of a prime 
 minister." 
 
 *^ There is some truth in what you say," answered 
 Sir Joshua, " but how could I presume to ask favours 
 from those to whom I became known only by my 
 obligations to them?" 
 
 The earnest desire which Sir Joshua had to render 
 liis pictures perfect to the utmost of his ability, and in 
 each succeeding instance to surpass the former, oc- 
 casioned his frequently making them inferior to what 
 they had been in the course of the process, and when 
 it was observed to him, " That probably he never had 
 sent out to the world any one of his paintings in as 
 perfect a state as it had been ;" he answered, that he 
 believed the remark was very just; but that, notwith- 
 standing, he certainly gained ground by it on the 
 whole, and improved himself by the experiment: add- 
 ing, <' If you are not bold enough to run the risk of 
 losing, you can never hope to gain." 
 
 With the same ardent wish of advancing himself in 
 his art, I have heard him say, that whenever a new 
 sitter came to him for a portrait, he always began it 
 with a full determination to make it the best picture
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I93 
 
 he had ever painted ; neither would he allow it to be 
 an excuse for his failure, to say, '* The subject was a 
 bad one for a picture ;" there was always nature, he 
 would observe, which, if well treated, was fully sufifi- 
 cent for the purpose. 
 
 In the short fragment inserted in his Memoir by 
 Mr. Malone, lie expresses himself thus, much to the 
 same purport: '^^ My success and continual impiove- 
 mentin my art, (if I may be allowed that expression) 
 may be ascribed, in a good measure, to a principle 
 which I will boldly recommend to imitation ; I mean a 
 principle of honesty; which, in this, as in all other 
 instances, is, according to the vulgar proverb, certain- 
 ly the best policy. I always endeavoured to do my 
 best. Great or vulgar, good subjects or bad, all had 
 nature ; by the exact representation of which, or even 
 by the endeavour to give such a representation, the 
 painter cannot but improve in his art.'^ 
 
 It was one of Sir Joshua's favourite maxims, that 
 all the gestures of children are graceful, and that the 
 reign of distortion and unnatural attitude, commences 
 with the introduction of the dancing master. He 
 delighted much in marking the damning traits of the 
 youthful mind, and the actions and bodily movements 
 even of infants ; and it was by these means that he ac- 
 quired the ability which enabled him to pourtray 
 children with such exquisite happiness, truth, and 
 variety. A circumstance, as related by himself, occurs 
 to my remembrance, which may serve to prove the 
 truth of the above observation, as well as to shew how 
 watchful his mind was to catch instruction wherever 
 it was to be gained. 
 
 Sir Joshua being in company with a party of ladies 
 and gentlemen, who were viewing a nobleman's house, 
 they passed through a gallery of portraits, when a 
 little girl, who belonged to one of the party, attracted 
 the particular attention of Sir Joshua by her vivacity 
 and the sensible drollery of her observations; for 
 whenever the company made a stand, to look at each 
 portrait in particular, the child, unconscious of being
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 observed by any one, imitated, by her actions, the air 
 of the liead, and sometimes awkward effect of the ill 
 disposed position of the limbs in each picture; and 
 this she did with so much innocence and true feeling, 
 that it was the most just and incontrovertible criticism 
 that could be made on the picture. 
 
 We may perceive, by this instance, that those parts 
 of the art which are its essentials, and the most diffi- 
 cult to accomplish with tolerable success, namely, 
 grace, ease of attitude, and expression, are qualities 
 which lie open to the knowledge and judgment of the 
 most simple and untaught persons, in a much greater 
 degree than to the half learned connoisseur. 
 
 The many trifles which I have here related, I fear 
 make me liable to the censure of ray judicious reader, 
 and most of those trifles probably had much better 
 have been omitted ; but as it is all truth, and several 
 of the circumstances are worth preserving, I was un- 
 willing to make myself the judge, by a selection, and 
 therefore, having risked the danger of giving too 
 many, least I should have fallen into the worse fault 
 of giving too few: and I have also an apology for 
 what I have done, and which I here give in the very 
 words of that great prelate. Seeker, in his tenth ser- 
 mon, wliere he has the following passage, " Rabbi 
 David Kimclii, a noted Jewish commentator, who 
 lived about five hundred years ago, explains that 
 passage in his first psalm, ' His haf shall not wither,' 
 from Rabbins yet older than himself, thus : that even 
 the idle talk (so he expresses it,) of a good man ought 
 to be regarded ; the most superfluous things, he saith, 
 are always of some value." 
 
 I shall, therefore, boldly proceed on such authority, 
 even if ray good reader be fatigued by ray relating 
 those minute and petty matters, but which have dwelt 
 in my memory from the time I left the house of Sir 
 Joshua, and which, probably, appear more important 
 to my mind, as I have before observed, than they can 
 to another, from their connection with that period of 
 mv vouth.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I95 
 
 It was an opinion of liis, that a« it is impossible for 
 us to do hurt to the dead, therefore we may hold up 
 their imperfections to view, as an example for others 
 to avoid the like, and by this means do good to the 
 living. If we owe regard (says Johnson) to the niem= 
 ory of the dead, there is yet more respect to be paid to 
 knowledge, to virtue, and to truth. 
 
 On speaking to him concerning a friend of his, who 
 was dying of a lingering disease, for which he was 
 sensible there was no possible cure, it was remarked 
 of this person, that his situation seemed to excite in 
 him the utmost degree of impatience and terror, and 
 that he appeared like a criminal under sentence of 
 deatli. Sir Joshua observed, ^^ That we are all under 
 sentence of death ; but tliat his warrant was signed.'' 
 
 It was an observation of his, that it had a bad 
 tendency to look at works worse than our own, as it 
 might make us too easily content with our own pro- 
 ductions, or else deaden our ardor for the art itself. 
 The exact reverse to this is the consequence from 
 viewing fine pictures. 
 
 It was his opinion, that it never did a painter much 
 credit to have no other pictures than his own in a col- 
 lection, as it became tiresome to the spectator from 
 the want of variety, and also, that the painter's pecu- 
 liar defects became more conspicnous by seeing them 
 so often repeated. 
 
 Sir Joshua used to say, that he could instruct any 
 boy that chance should throw in his way, to be able 
 in half a year to paint a likeness in a portrait ; but to 
 give a just expression and true character to the picture 
 was rare to be seen, and proved the great master : and 
 of Velasquez the celebrated Spanish painter, of whose 
 great powers he thought so favourably, he said, 
 " What we are all attempting to do with great labour, 
 he does at once.''* 
 
 A friend of his was relating to him the ill success 
 of an indifl'erent painter in the country, who, by his 
 caricature likenesses, enraged his sitters, and more 
 especially the ladies, as much as if lie had really 
 
 Dd
 
 196 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 matle them in their own persons, as they were in tlieir 
 portraits, and this he observed seemed to be carrying 
 their anger too far. 
 
 " Why you know," said Sir Joshua, " he has 
 given it under his hand that they are so." 
 
 A very bad picture, which by the professor was 
 thought to be of great value, w as offered to him for 
 his purchase, and the price demanded for it most 
 absurdly was two hundred guineas, when he answer- 
 ed, with some degree of impatience, " Why not two 
 thousand !" 
 
 In conversation once with Sir Joshua, he said in 
 the way of advice, that " He who would arrive at 
 eminence in his profession should coniine his whole 
 attention to that alone, and not do as many very 
 sensible men have done, who spend their time in 
 acquiring a smattering and general kind of knowledge 
 of every science, by w hich their powers become so 
 much divided, that they are not masters of any one." 
 1 said hastily, '^ That is exactly my own father." He 
 replied, " And it was mine also." 
 
 A young painter who was showing his performance 
 to him in order to have his opinion and instruction 
 upon it, when the faults were pointed out to him, ex- 
 cused himself by saying he had committed the error 
 by following the dictates of his employer whom he 
 wished to please. Sir Joshua would not allow such a 
 reason to be a palliation of his faults, adding, " It is 
 you who are to understand your own business, and 
 not your employer." Yet he would never willingly 
 offer advice, unless he perceived the mind of the per- 
 son, v.'ho asked it, was earnestly engaged on their 
 sul)ject: otherwise, he said it was lost labour, and that 
 instruction went in at one ear and out at the other. 
 
 The following observations by Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, weie the result of many conversations, or from 
 fragments written by himself. 
 
 " The great principle of being happy in this world 
 is not to regard or be affected with small things."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 497 
 
 <• No man relishes an evening walk like hi in whose 
 mind has been employed the whole preceding day."" 
 
 " Polite behaviour and a refined address, like good 
 pictures, make the least sliow to ordinary eyes." 
 
 ^^ Humility is not to despise any thing, especially 
 mankind." 
 
 " Magnanimity is not to be disturbed at any 
 thing." 
 
 " The man is a pedant who, having been brought 
 up among books, is able to talk of nothing else. 
 The same of a soldier, lawyer, painter, &c." 
 
 " Natural, is that which is according to the com- 
 mon course of things, consequently an ugly face is an 
 unnatural face." 
 
 " The character of a nation is perhaps more 
 strongly marked by their taste in painting, than in 
 any other pursuit, although more considerable; as 
 you may easier find which way the wind sits by 
 throwing up a straw iu the air than any heavier 
 substance." 
 
 " Rules are very necessary to, but will never 
 make, a painter, lliey should be used as servants, 
 and subject to us, not we to them." 
 
 " In painting prefer truth before freedom of hand." 
 
 " Grandeur is composed of straight lines." 
 
 " Grenteelness and elegance of serpentine lines. ^' 
 
 ^' A firm and determined manner is grand, but not 
 elegant." 
 
 ^* Genteelness is not being crowded, especially if 
 there is a fullness at the same time." 
 
 ^' Air is a single moment of any action." 
 
 " Simplicity is an exact medium between too little 
 and too much." 
 
 " Grace is the medium of motion, beauty is the 
 medium of form, and genteelness the medium of the 
 fashion." 
 
 ^' Ornament is the medium between wanting what is 
 necessary, and being over-furnished." 
 
 *♦ Ornament ought to arise only from the right or- 
 dering of thina;s. Orno is Latin for ^ to furnish." "
 
 198 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 '^ Manner in paiutiiic; is like peculiarity of be- 
 haviour; though it may please a few, tiie bulk of 
 mankind will condemn it.*' 
 
 " The only wa^es a real genius thinks of in his 
 labour, is the praise of impartial judges.*' 
 
 ^' A good portrait painter may not be capable of 
 painting history.*' 
 
 ^' But an historical painter for certain has the abili- 
 ty to paint portrait." 
 
 I shall now resume my narrative. 
 
 In Sir Joshua's seventh discourse, delivered on the 
 tenth of December, as usual, in this year, his olrject 
 was to prove the existence of a real standard of taste; 
 this he considered as absolute as one for corporeal 
 beauty, and as an immutable truth in itself, althougii, 
 at the game time, it did not preclude the existence of 
 certain variable and secondary truths, diifering ac- 
 cording to circumstances, in their influence as well as 
 in their stability, and therefore particularly requiring 
 the artist's close attention. 
 
 At the commencement of this oration, he again re- 
 commended industry most strenuously to the students; 
 but w ith this happy distinction, that it was not " the 
 industry of tiie hands, but of the mind.-- He then 
 marked the precise definition of the art itself, which, 
 though '"' not a divine gift, so neither is it a mechani- 
 cal trade,'* considering its foundation as resting on 
 solid science, but still insisting that practice, althongh 
 essential to perfection, would never arrive at its aim 
 unless directed by a judicious principle. 
 
 As great learning is not absolutely necessary for a 
 painter, he recommended his youthful hearers not to 
 be terrified at tiie want of it, but still to keep in mind 
 that a certain degree of cultivation, such as was in 
 their power, was nevertheless essential ; and he there- 
 fore pointed out the propriety of being tolerably con- 
 versant with the poets, even in Englisii, so as to im- 
 bibe a poetical spirit, of adopting a habit of acquiring 
 and digesting ideas, and of obtaining some knowledge 
 of that part of philosophy which gives an insight into
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I99 
 
 human nature, as connected with the manners, char- 
 acters, passions, and affections ; in short, that a painter 
 " ought to know something concerning the mind, as 
 well as a g;reat deal concerning the body of man" — a 
 truth which lie more fully exemplified in another part 
 of the discourse, saying, that, '^ in fact, as he who 
 does not know himself, does not know others, so it 
 may be said, with equal truth, that he who does not 
 know others, knows himself but very imperfectly." 
 
 For this great end, he recommended reading as the 
 recreation of leisure hours ; and that the student (agree- 
 able to his own custom) should supply wliat partial 
 and desultory reading cannot afford by the conversa- 
 tion of learned and ingenious men, which he consider- 
 ed as the best of all substitutes for those who have not 
 the means or opportunities of deep study. 
 
 Of these studies, and of this conversation, added 
 Sir Joshua, the desire and legitimate offspring is a 
 power of distinguishing right from wrong; which 
 power, when applied to works of art, he considered to 
 be that which the world calls '^ taste." lie then pro- 
 ceeded to examine, whether taste is so far beyond 
 human reach as to be unattainable with care, or so 
 very vague and capricious that no care ought to be 
 employed about it. 
 
 To follow him through this investigation would be 
 far beyond my proposed limits; though it may be 
 noticed, that he laid it down as an axiom, that al- 
 though Genius and Taste, in their common accepta- 
 tion, appear to be very nearly related, as " the dif- 
 ference lies only in tiiis, that genius has superadded 
 to it a habit or power of execution : or we may say, 
 that taste, when this power is added, changes its name 
 and is called genius, — still is the popular opinion 
 most absurd, that they may both claim an entire ex- 
 emption from the restraint of rules; that their powers 
 are intuitive ; and that, under the name of genius great 
 works are produced, and under the name of taste an 
 exact judgment is given, without our knowing why,
 
 200 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 and without our being under the least obligation to 
 reason, precept, or experience." 
 
 After speaking of taste in general, he applied it to 
 the art in its various particulars, observing, that it is 
 reason and good sense vvhicli rank and estimate every 
 art, and every part of that art, according to its im- 
 portance, from the painter of animated, down to inani- 
 mate, nature; but he protested against any man who 
 shall prefer the inferior style, saying, that it is his 
 taste ; for here taste has nothing, or, at least, ought to 
 have nothing, to do with the question — " he wants not 
 taste, but sense and soundness of judgment." 
 
 In avoiding one extreme of opinion, however. Sir 
 Joshua did not commit the frequent error of adopting 
 its opposite; but still acknowledged that a part of taste 
 does not absolutely belong to the external form of 
 things, but is addressed to the mind, and actually de- 
 pends on its original frame, or, as he expressed him- 
 self, " the organization of tJic soul ; I mean tlie im- 
 agination and the passions"- — but then he contended, 
 that the principles of these are as invariable as the 
 former, and are to be known and reasoned upon in the 
 same manner, by an appeal to common sense deciding 
 upon the common feelings of mankind. 
 
 In his enthusiasm for the art itself, Sir Joshua 
 never lost sight of its highest advantages in its bearing 
 upon the minds of mankind wherever it was culti- 
 vated ; and in this very discourse he noticed, that it 
 has been often observed, that the good and virtuous 
 man alone can acquire this true or just relish even of 
 works of art ; an opinion which he considered as well 
 founded, when we reflect that the same habit of mind 
 which is acquired by our search after truth in the 
 more serious duties of life, is only transferred to the 
 pursuit of lighter amusements; that the same disposi- 
 tion, the same desire to find something steady, sub- 
 stantial, and durable, on which the mind can lean, as 
 it were, and rest with safety, actuates us in both cases ; 
 and, as he adds, that the subject only is changed, but 
 that we pursue the same method in our search after
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. «0l 
 
 the idea of beauty and perfection in each; " of virtue, 
 by looking forwards beyond ourselves to society, and 
 to the whole; of arts, by extending our views in the 
 same manner to all ages and all times." 
 
 Tlie truths with which he closed this brilliant dis- 
 course are too important to mankind in general not to 
 be repeated here ; for Sir Joshua always had the 
 power, as well as the desire, of rendering art useful 
 to morals. " The true spirit of philosopliy," said he, 
 *^ by giving knowledge, gives a manly confidence, and 
 substitutes rational firmness in the place of vain pre- 
 sumption. A man of real taste is always a man of 
 judgment in other respects; and those inventions 
 which either disdain, or shrink from, reason, are 
 generally, I fear, more like the dreams of a distemper- 
 ed brain, than the exalted enthusiasm of a sound and 
 true genius. In the midst of the highest flights of 
 fancy or imagination, reason ought to preside from 
 first to last, though I admit her more powerful opera- 
 tion is upon reflection !" 
 
 Of the year 1777 I have little to record concerning 
 Sir Joshua from my own knowledge, as, at that time, 
 I was not in London. A poetical epistle, about this 
 period, had been printed, addressed to him, in which, 
 whilst praising a portrait of Lord Amherst, the poet 
 says something about the fleetiness of his colours, 
 when he good-humouredly observed, in answer, tliat 
 it must be acknowledged, then, that he came oft* with 
 flying colours. 
 
 This poem, in addition to its mixture of praise, and 
 of a certain portion of implied censure, also offered 
 Sir Joshua some advice, recommending to him the 
 further painting of Burke and Grarrick ; a hint which 
 was totally unnecessary both to the wishes and the 
 genius of the artist and the friend. 
 
 In 1778 Sir Joshua published his Seven Dis- 
 courses, with a Dedication to his Majesty, of which it 
 was aptly said at the time, that it was a model to 
 dedicators, and a hint both to v/riters and painters,
 
 202 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 that a portrait may he well drawn, without bein* 
 varnished, and highly coloured without being dauheJ. 
 
 The most prominent feature in it runs thus: — 
 " The regular progress of cultivated life is from 
 necessaries to accommodations, from accommodations 
 to ornaments. 
 
 *•* By your illustrious predecessors were established 
 Marts for Manufjictures, and Colleges for Science; 
 but for the Arts of Elegance, those Arts by which 
 Manufactures are improved and Science refined, to 
 found an Academy was reserved for your Majesty. 
 
 '* Had such patronage been without effect, there 
 had been reason to believe that nature had, by 
 some insurmountable impediment, obstructed our pro- 
 ficiency ; but the annual exhibitions, which your 
 Majesty has been pleased to encourage, show that 
 only encouragement had been wanting. 
 
 *' To give advice to those who are contending for 
 royal liherality, has been, for some years, the duty of 
 my station in the Academy; and these discourses hope 
 for your Majesty's acceptance, as well intended en- 
 deavours to excite the emulation which your notice 
 has kindled, and to direct those studies which vour 
 bounty has rewarded. 
 
 "• S'mt Jloecenates non deerunt Marones.^" — 
 
 I think it has already been observed, that at all the 
 times when Sir Joshua delivered his discourses to the 
 Koyal Academy, the audience was very numerous, 
 being composed of the learned and the great, as well 
 as those engaged in the study of the arts. 
 
 A gold medal was presented once in every two 
 years hy the Royal Academy, as a prize for the best 
 historical picture, to be painted by a student of the 
 Academy. 
 
 A young painter who had made several different 
 designs for the composition of the story he was about 
 to execute in order to his becoming a candidate, 
 brought his sketches to Sir Joshua, to consult with
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. SO3 
 
 him and have his opinion as to which was tlie best iu 
 point of sentiment, or most clear in explaining the 
 history. 
 
 Sir Joshua's answer was to this effect : " You may 
 choose whichever you please ; it will turn out precisely 
 the same ; you are to recollect that your picture is to 
 be judged of by painters only. It will be the manual 
 execution of the work, and that alone which will 
 engross the attention of Artists, and the degree of 
 merit displayed in that part of the art is what will 
 determine them in their election of the candidate for 
 the prize. 
 
 " It is no matter how long or how short the time 
 may have been in which you have done the work ; or 
 with how much difficulty, or with how much ease you 
 have accomplished it. The result alone is to be con- 
 sidered." 
 
 This is quite consistent with some observations in 
 the fragments preserved by Mr. Malone, where he 
 says, " My principal labour was employed on the 
 whole together ; and I was never weary of changing, 
 and trying different modes and different effects. I 
 had always some scheme in my mind, and a perpetual 
 desire to advance. By constantly endeavouring to do 
 my best, I acquired a power of doing that with spon- 
 taneous facility, Avhicli at first was the effort of my 
 whole mind ; and my reward was threefold ; the satis- 
 faction resulting from acting on this first principle, 
 improvement in my art, and the pleasure derived 
 from a constant pursuit after excellence." 
 
 In this year he painted one of his best portraits of 
 Dr. Johnson, who observes of it in a letter to Mrs. 
 Thrale, " I have twice sat to Sir Joshua, and he 
 seems to like his own performance. He has projected 
 another in which I am to be busy ; but we can think 
 on it at leisure" — and in a subsequent epistle he adds, 
 *' Sir Joshua has finished my picture, and it seems to 
 please every body, but I sliall wait till I see how it 
 pleases you." 
 
 E e
 
 ,^04. MExMOlRS OF 
 
 la this strict intimacy so long kept up with Dr. 
 Johnson, Sir Joshua seems to have considered him- 
 self as enjoying hoth pleasure and advantage; and 
 upon one occasion, whilst conversing with a friend 
 upon the strictness with which Johnson inculcated to 
 all his acquaintance the importance of perpetual vigi- 
 lence against the slightest degi*ee of falsehood, he 
 observed that the effect had been, that all who were of 
 his school were distinguished for a love of truth and 
 accuracy, w hich they might not have possessed in the 
 same degree, if they had not been acquainted with 
 Johnson. 
 
 Sir Joshua's regard for the memory of his departed 
 friend Goldsmith is properly recorded by Boswcll in 
 a conversation which took place at this period, at a 
 dinner party at his house. When talking of the 
 " Traveller" he said, ^' I was glad to hear Charles 
 Fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the English 
 language.'' Mr. Langton then asked. " Why were 
 you glad? you surely had no doubt of this before;" to 
 which Johnson added, *^ No ! the merit of the Travel- 
 ler is so well established, that Mr. Fox's praise can- 
 not augment it, nor his censure diminish it;" when, 
 with great modesty. Sir Joshua replied, " but his 
 friends may suspect they had too great a partiality for 
 him." 
 
 Speaking of this conversation afterwards, Johnson 
 seemed to display some little jealousy at Sir Joshua's 
 friendship with the heads of a party to which his o\vn 
 politics were inimical, for he said, '•' Yes, Sir, I 
 knocked Fox on the head, without ceremony. Rey- 
 nolds is too much under Fox and Burke at present. 
 He is under the Fox Star, and the Irish Constella- 
 tion. He is always under some planet;" — but the 
 truth is, that Sir Joshua never attempted to borrow 
 light from any political or scientific luminary, how- 
 ever brilliant; for, to carry on the metaphor, 'twas 
 his own powerful attraction that brought him and 
 them into the same sphere.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^05 
 
 However, he had soon after an opportunity of re- 
 turning the retort, when Johnson, talking of a phrase 
 of Garriek's, who called Lord Camden a ^^ little law- 
 yer,'' at the time he was boasting of his acquaintance, 
 said, " Well, Sir, Garrick talked very properly. 
 Lord Camden was a little lawyer to be associaling so 
 familiarly with a player;" on which, as Mr. Boswell 
 says. Sir Joshua observed, and with great truth, 
 *' that Johnson considered Garrick to be, as it were, 
 his property, and that he would allow no man eitiier 
 to blame or to praise Garrick in his presence, without 
 contradicting him." 
 
 Another conversation about this time, recorded by 
 Mr. Boswell, is so descriptive of Sir Joshua's mild, 
 yet persevering manner, in argumentative, yet friendly 
 discourse, that I should not feel myself at liberty to 
 omit it. 
 
 Whilst dining at General Paoli's, the subject of 
 wine drinking was introduced, which Sir Joshua de.. 
 fended, and Boswell at that time drinking water in 
 imitation of Johnson, the latter exclaimed, " Boswell 
 is a bolder combatant than Sir Joshua: he argues for 
 wine without the help of wine; but Sir Joshua with 
 it." Sir Joshua replied, " But to please one's com- 
 pany is a strong motive ;" when Johnson, then sup- 
 posing the whole company to be a little elevated, ex- 
 claimed, " I won't argue any more with you. Sir : you 
 are too far gone;" to which he mildly answered, '' I 
 should have thought so indeed. Sir, had I made such 
 a speech as you have now done." On this Johnsou 
 drew himself up, blushing, as Boswell describes it^ 
 and said, " Nay, don't be angry, I did not mean to 
 offend you." 
 
 Sir Joshua then observed, " At first the taste of 
 wine was disagreeable to me ; but I brought myself to 
 drink it, that I might be like other people. The 
 pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with pleas- 
 ing your company, that altogether there is something 
 of social goodness in it." As this touched upon John, 
 son's own peculiarity he felt it, and, though iuaccu-
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 rately, complained that it was not only saying the 
 same thing over again. 
 
 On another occasion Sir Joshua shewed his habit 
 and facility of judging of character, for whilst con- 
 versing about Johnson in his absence, Boswell said, 
 that his power of reasoning was very strong, and that 
 he had a peculiar art of drawing characters, which was 
 as rare as good portrait painting. " Yes," replied Sir 
 Joshua, " he is undoubtedly admirable in this ; but in 
 order to mark the characters which he draws, he 
 overcharges them, and gives people more than they 
 really have, whether of good or bad." 
 
 Another proof of Sir Joshua's nice discrimination 
 of characters is seen in the distinction he makes be- 
 tween true politeness and the affectation of it, and 
 clearly given by him in the instance of two noblemen, 
 to whom he paid a morning visit on a Sunday. The 
 first that he paid his respects to received him with 
 extraordinary affected condescension, and seemed very 
 desirous to please, talked to him the whole time on 
 nothing but his art, in order to give him a fair oppor- 
 tunity of appearing to the most advantage, and ob- 
 served to him, that he had requested the pleasure of 
 this visit on a Sunday that he might not occasion his 
 losing that time which, on other days, could be so 
 jnuch better employed. 
 
 After quitting this nobleman, he paid his next visit 
 to another, (I think it was Lord Chesterfield,) who, 
 unlike the first, received him with the same freedom 
 as if he had been his equal, never once spoke upon 
 the subject of art, nor observed that Sunday was the 
 day of rest for the laborious ; but discoursed on the 
 news and the occurrences of the day, and on such 
 other topics as a gentleman of education is supposed 
 to be acquainted with, and no word escaped him that 
 denoted his recollection of any difference in their 
 stations. 
 
 This anecdote was related to me by Sir Joshua 
 himself many years after the occurrence, as an in-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 207 
 
 stance that had struck him very forcibly as a fine 
 contrast. 
 
 The perspicuity and clearness of Sir Joshua's 
 judgment was evident in all his conversation, and 
 another little instance is thus given in his own words 
 from a fragment written in his own hand. 
 
 " Josiah Tucker, Dean of Gloucester, at a meeting 
 of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manu- 
 factures, and Commerce, said, that he thought a pin- 
 maker was a more useful and valuable member of 
 society than Rajffaelle. 
 
 " This is an observation of a very narrow mind ; 
 a mind that is contined to the mere object of commerce, 
 that sees with a microscopic eye but a part of the great 
 machine of the economy of life, and thinks that small 
 part which he sees to be the whole. Commerce is t!ie 
 means, not the end, of happiness or pleasure: the end 
 is a rational enjoyment of life, by means of arts and 
 sciences ; it is, therefore, the liighest degree of folly to 
 set the means in a higher rank of esteem than the ac- 
 complished end. It is as much as to say that the 
 brick-maker is a more useful member of society than 
 the architect who employs him. The usefulness of the 
 brick-maker is acknowledged, but the rank of him 
 and the architect are very different. No man deserves 
 better of mankind than he who has the art of opening 
 sources of intellectual pleasure and instruction by 
 means of the senses." 
 
 It is not to be understood from this anecdote that 
 Sir Joshua was apt to over-rate the degree of his 
 profession in respect to its rank in society. The fol- 
 lowing circumstance will show how just a view he 
 had of its comparative importance. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds had as great a portion of 
 enthusiasm for his art, as any man can have for the 
 study which he may have adopted ; and, indeed, with- 
 out this stimulus nothing great or diflBcult can be ac- 
 complished : yet he was totally free from that weak- 
 ness so commonly found among professional men, of 
 over-rating either the rank, value, or importance of his
 
 SOS MEMOIRS OF 
 
 profession. He felt it as a duty to excel in the de- 
 partment which he had undertaken : he relied upon it 
 entirely, as his great source of support and honour, 
 his bulwark and preserver ; but he did not expect or 
 require, as a thing of course, that others should see it 
 in the same view : it was of high consequence to liini ; 
 but not equally so to them. The plank which saves a 
 man from drowning becomes to him of more value 
 than a first rate man of war, yet he does not expect 
 that others should look on it as of the same degree of 
 importance. Hence Sir Jo^liua alwajs considered 
 this professional kind of mania as a species of pedan- 
 try, and thought a certain eminent professor of the 
 science of music very absurd who, when he related a 
 circumstance of three great musicians having been in- 
 troduced at the court of a prince, said *• these three 
 great personages were presented,'' a term only ap- 
 plicable to persons of high rank in society. 
 
 It has often been remarked that the king never 
 commissioned Sir Joshua for a single picture ; indeed 
 he never sat to him but once, when his portrait was 
 painted by him for the Royal Academy. 
 
 Soon after that picture was finished, Sir Joshua went 
 down on a visit to Dr. Warton at Winchester College, 
 where he was particularly noticed by their Majesties, 
 who were then making a tour through the summer 
 encampments, having taken Winchester in their route. 
 
 In Dr. Warton's biography, some of the particulars 
 of this visit are entered into; his house being stated at 
 that period to have been filled with men, some of 
 whom were of high and acknowledged talents ; 
 amongst others, in addition to Sir Joshua, were the 
 late Lord Palmerston, Messrs. Stanley and Warton, 
 and Mr. Garrick; a whimsical accident is stated to 
 have occurred to the latter at one of the reviews, and 
 which Sir Joshua afterwards recounted with great 
 humour. 
 
 At one of those field days in the vicinity, Garrick 
 found it necessaiy to dismount, when his horse es- 
 caped from his hold and ran off; throwing himself
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 209 
 
 immediately into his professioDal attitude he cried out, 
 as if on Bosworth field, " A horse ! a horse ! my king- 
 dom for a horse !" 
 
 This exclamation, and the accompanying attitude, 
 excited great amazement amongst the surrounding 
 spectators, who knew him not; but it could not escape 
 his Majesty's quick apprehension, for it being within 
 his hearing, he immediately said, " Those must be 
 the tones of Garrick ! see if he is not on the ground/"' 
 The theatrical and dismounted monarch was imme- 
 diately brought to his Majesty, who not only condoled 
 with him most good humouredly on his misfortune, 
 but flatteringly added, " that his delivery of Shaks- 
 peare could never pass undiscovered." 
 
 Of any further incidents relative to art, connected 
 with the biography of Sir Joshua during this year, I 
 need only mention, that Mr. Score, a native of Devon- 
 shire, was his pupil about this time, and that on the 
 10th of December, as usual, the president delivered 
 bis eighth discourse. 
 
 In this he laid it down as a truth, that all the 
 principles both of painting and poetry have their 
 foundation in the human mind; that novelty and con- 
 trast, however necessary, must still become defects, 
 if carried to excess ; and that even simplicity itself 
 might be overstrained. 
 
 These points he generally illustrated, as emanating 
 from the mind itself, by stating, that as variety reani- 
 mates the attention, which is apt to languish under a 
 continual sameness, so novelty makes a more forcible 
 impression on the mind, than can be produced by the 
 representation of what we have often seen before, 
 whilst contrast stimulates the power of comparison by 
 opposition. All this he considered so obvious as not 
 to require proof; but at the same time he very judi- 
 ciously added, that the mind, though an active princi. 
 pie, has likewise a disposition to indolence; and 
 though it loves exercise, loves it only to a certain 
 degree, beyond which it is very unwilling to be led, 
 or driven. From this, then, he inferred, that the pur-
 
 2i0 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 suit of novelty and variety may be carried to excess ; 
 for whenever variety entirely destroys the pleasure 
 arising from uniformity and repetition, and whenever 
 novelty counteracts and shuts out the pleasure arising 
 from old habits and customs, they must then oppose, 
 in too great a degree, the indolence of our disposition, 
 so that the mind can only bear with pleasure, a small 
 portion of novelty at a time. 
 
 This position he exemplified further, by observing, 
 that when the objects are scattered and divided into 
 many equal parts in any composition, the eye is there- 
 by perplexed and fatigued, from not knowing where 
 to rest, where to find the principal action, or where is 
 the principal figure ; for when all are making equal 
 pretensions to notice, all are in equal danger of ne- 
 glect. " The expression which is used very often on 
 these occasions is, the piece wants repose ,* a word 
 which perfectly expresses a relief of the mind from 
 that state of hurry and anxiety which it suffers, when 
 looking at a work of this character." 
 
 Sir Joshua then proceeded to exemplify his subject 
 by a critical review of both painters and poets, and 
 took occasion to introduce tliat excellent note ou 
 Macbeth, already noticed. 
 
 In the year 1779 Sir Joshua devoted his abilities to 
 partly ornamenting of the new apartments in Somer- 
 set-house, by executing a picture for the handsome 
 ceiling of the library. In the centre is Theory sitting 
 on a cloud. In her hand she holds a scroll with an 
 inscription, ^' Theory is the knowledge of what is 
 truly nature," a definition quite in unison with the 
 general principle so ably maintained by the painter 
 tliroughout his various discourses. 
 
 It is an obvious remark, that the point of view in 
 which paintings on ceilings can be seen, is by no 
 means favourable to their general effect; this difficulty 
 has, however, been surmounted, in some degree, by 
 the discriminating skill of Sir Joshua, and his judi- 
 cious choice of his subject, to which he has imparted 
 (he most graceful lightness, representing her rather asi
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 2ii 
 
 hovering over the head of the spectator, than as fixed 
 on any permanent seat. 
 
 In addition to this elegant specimen of his art, are 
 the two Royal portraits, in the council room, of their 
 present Majesties; the King being represented on his 
 coronation chair, as at the performance of tliat cere- 
 mony, and his consort also, adorned with all the 
 paraphernalia of regal costume and state. 
 
 This year terminated the mortal career of Garrick, 
 whose fame will, however, last long. He had con- 
 tinued to act on the stage until a late period of his life ; 
 and it being remarked to Sir Joshua as rather extra- 
 ordinary, that this Roscius of the British drama 
 should still undergo so much fatigue after his fortune 
 was made, and his fame established, he observed, 
 with great knowledge of human nature, " That it was 
 necessary for Garrick to do so, in order to preserve 
 his popularity, and to keep up his importance with 
 the great, who soon neglect and forget those who 
 cease to be the town talk, however eminent they may 
 have been," so much does fashion govern the world. 
 
 On Mr. Garrick's demise, a monody was written by 
 Mr. Sheridan to his memory; in which he very ele- 
 gantly shews, that the fame of the orator and the ac- 
 tor must be nearly as evanescent as those exertions on 
 which it was founded, if not aided by the poet or the 
 painter, vyhose works also have a better chance of im- 
 mortality. In this produotion he paid Sir Joshua the 
 compliment of placing his efforts in opposition with 
 those of Raffaelle himself. 
 
 "• Whate'er of wonder Reynolds now may raise, 
 Raffaelle still boasts contemporary praise ; 
 Each dazzling light, and gaudier bloom subdu'd, 
 With undiminished awe his works are viewed: 
 E'en Beauty's portrait wears a softer prime, 
 Touch'd by the tender hand of mellowing time." 
 
 In this year Sir Joshua raised his price to fifty 
 guineas for a head size, which he continued during 
 
 Ff
 
 aiS MEMOIRS OF 
 
 the remainder of his life: liis rapitlly accuraulating 
 fortune was not. liowevcr, for his own sole enjoyment; 
 he still felt the luxury of doing good, and had many 
 objects of bounty pointed out to him by his friend 
 Johnson, who, in one of his letters in this year to Mrs. 
 Piozzi, inquires, " AV^ill master give me any thing for 
 my poor neiglibours? 1 have had from Sir Joshua and 
 Mr. Strahan.'^ 
 
 The year 1780 is particularly noticeable, as that 
 in which the Academy first began to exhibit at 
 Somerset-house ; their apartments in that building 
 liaving recently been (inished for their reception. 
 
 On this occasion the critics of the day seemed to 
 consider themselves as arrived at a new era in the 
 arts, or, at least, in the annals of the Academy itself, 
 thus by tlie Sovereign's munificence established in a 
 superb edifice, supposed to be well calculated for all 
 tlie purposes of the Society: and I find the two fol- 
 lowing criticisms which were written upon that oc- 
 casion. 
 
 One of them is in an address to his Majesty, pre- 
 fixed to a " Candid Review of tlie Exhibition,'' where 
 it is said, that *' The excellence to which the arts 
 have arisen calls particularly on the attention of the 
 "world. The progress of the Academy has been so 
 rapid, that, though this is only the 12th year of its 
 existence, it has already made Britain the seat of 
 Arts, and in painting, sculpture, and engraving, it 
 rivals, if it does not excel, all the other schools in 
 Europe. In all ages the progress of the arts to ex- 
 cellence has been slow and gradual; but it is the sin- 
 gular merit of the Royal Academy of Britain, that it 
 has broke through the fetters with which similar in- 
 stitutions have heretofore been confined, and by one 
 rapid stride has attained the pre-eminence of all com 
 petitors." 
 
 In opposition to this, a writer in the London 
 Courant observes, that " an establishment bearing the 
 sanction of royal patronage, and committed to the 
 direction of a genius like that of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
 
 ■ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 2i?. 
 
 whose works, the acknowledged patterns of grace 
 and expression, conduce not more to excite emulation, 
 than his lectures serve to instruct the students in the 
 solid principles of design and composition, might have 
 been presumed to have exerted such effects of British 
 genius' in the subliraer branches of the arts, as miglu 
 almost have rivalled the exquisite sculpture of An- 
 cient Greece and Kome, or the finished paintings of 
 the Roman, Florentine, and Flemish scliools; but in 
 Sculpture, as well as in History, Painting, and Land- 
 scape, we cannot but perceive a mortifying disparity 
 in the best of these pieces, in the late exliibition, when 
 placed in competition with the works before mention- 
 ed." 
 
 This wise critic, it seems, expected that '^painters 
 would start up as mushrooms do, and thrive under as 
 small a portion of attention, but he ought to have 
 known that Art is not to be raised by the numbers, 
 however great, who only gaze on its productions, and 
 do no more. 
 
 Sir Joshua's offerings to the Exhibition tliis year 
 consisted of his historical portrait of Miss Beauclerc in 
 the character of Spencer's Una, and of his emblemati 
 cal figure of Justice, then drawn as a model for the 
 window which Mr. Jervis was painting at Oxford ; to 
 these were subjoined his portraits of the Historical 
 Gibbon, of Lady Beaumont, of Lord Cholmondeley, 
 and of the present Duke of Gloucester. The receipts 
 of this year's exhibition exceeded the sum of 3000/. 
 
 Sir Joshua in addition to these pictures thus ex- 
 hibited, also painted for the Royal Academy that 
 portrait of Sir William Chambers which they novf 
 possess. 
 
 In this year, too, he delivered two discourses, the 
 first of which took place on the l6th of October, on 
 the opening of the Academy at their present apart- 
 ments. 
 
 In this his object was a general one, to impress 
 upon the minds of his audience, a full conviclion of 
 the advantages resulting to society from the cultiva-
 
 214 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tion of intellectual pleasures ; and here he most forci- 
 bly inculcated that " the estimation in which we stand 
 with respect to our neighbours, will be in proportion 
 to the degree in which we excel or are inferior to thera 
 in the acquisition of intellectual excellence, of which 
 trade, and its consequential riches, must be ac- 
 knowledged to give the means ; but a people whose 
 whole attention is absorbed in those pursuits, and who 
 forget the end, can aspire but little above the rank of 
 a barbarous nation. Every establishment that tends to 
 the cultivation of the pleasures of the mind, as distinct 
 from tho<«e of sense, may be considered as an inferior 
 school of morality, where the mind is polished and 
 prepared for higher attainments," He concluded with 
 an elegant eulogium on liejlnement of Taste, most 
 truly saying, that if it does not lead directly to purity 
 of manners, it obviates at least their greatest deprava- 
 tion, by disentangling the mind from appetite, *' and 
 conducting the thoughts through successive stages of 
 excellence, till that contemplation of universal recti- 
 tude and harmony w hich began by Taste, may, as it 
 is exalted and retined, conclude in virtue !" 
 
 Though the hospitable urbanity of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds was always directed to the promotion of social 
 and friendly intercourse among his intimates, yet it 
 sometimes happened, as in all mixed societies, that 
 jars would arise. One incident which took place at 
 his house in this year, deserves notice, as it also re- 
 lates to two men of great importance in the literary 
 world. 
 
 All the friends both of Johnson and Warton la- 
 mented the unhappy disagreement betv.een them, 
 which almost at once put a period to a warm and 
 long continued frioudship of many years. The whole 
 particulars were only known to the parties themselves ; 
 but one of the company who over heard part of the 
 wordy conflict, begins his account by stating Johnson 
 as saying, " Sir, 1 am not used to be contradicted ;" 
 to which Dr. Warton replied, " Sir, if you were, our 
 admiration could not be increased, but our love
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^15 
 
 might." Oil the interference of the gentleman who 
 overheard this, the dispute ceased, but a coolness al- 
 ways existed afterwards, which, I find it stated, was 
 increased by many trifling circumstances that, without 
 the intervention of this contest, might have passed un- 
 noticed by either party. 
 
 The very various classes of diflFerent companies that 
 were to be met with at Sir Joshua's table calls to my 
 remembrance the saying of one illustrious person upon 
 that subject. 
 
 A large company being invited to dine at Sir 
 Joshua's, Mr. Dunning, afterwards Lord Ashburton, 
 was one, and chanced to be the first person of the com- 
 pany who came. On entering the room, he said, " Well, 
 Sir Joshua, and who have you got to dine with you to- 
 day? for the last time I dined with you in your house, 
 tiie assembly was of such a sort, that by G I be- 
 lieve all the rest of the world were at peace, for that 
 afternoon at least."' 
 
 This observation was by no means ill applied ; for 
 as Sir Joshua's companions were chiefly composed of 
 men of genius, tiiey were often disputatious, and apt to 
 be vehement in argument. 
 
 In this year, and for several successive ones. Sir 
 Joshua was busily employed on his designs for the 
 celebrated painted widow, in New College Chapel, 
 at Oxford, consisting of seven compartments in the 
 lower range, each twelve feet high, and three wide, and 
 containing the allegorical figures of the four cardinal, 
 and three christian, virtues j viz. Temperance, Forti- 
 tude, Justice, Prudence, Faith, Hope, and Charity. 
 In all of these, the figures are accompanied by their 
 several attributes ; and they are all single, except the 
 centre one, where Charity is represented by a groupe, 
 which, as described by a local critic, deserves es- 
 4)ecial notice, for the expression of the various persons 
 introduced, whilst the "^ fondling of the infant, the 
 importunity of the boy, and the placid allectiou of the 
 girl, together with the divided attention of the mother, 
 are all distinguishably and judiciously marked with
 
 2iG MEMOIRS OF 
 
 a knowledge of character for which the great arti&t 
 who gave tliis design is so justly celebrated/*' 
 
 AI)ovc tins, on a grand scale of ten feet by eighteen, 
 is the JWitivity, a composition including thirteen 
 figures, and in this, it has been well observed, that 
 Sir Joshua had great advantages over Corregio, who, 
 in his famous JSTotte, introduces no light in the paint- 
 ing but that which proceeds from the infant Saviour. 
 The idea is not the invention even of Corregio, but 
 certainly grand, and has been most judiciously adopt- 
 ed, for a transparency, by Sir Joshua, who cannot be 
 said to \m\e coyied it, as his execution, both in man- 
 tier and circumstance, gives it the eflfect of novelty; 
 for from the transparent medium on which it is paint- 
 ed, it is light that actually does proceed through that 
 part from whence the fancy of the painter supposes it 
 to emanate. 
 
 This latter design was sold to the late Duke of 
 Rutland for 1200 guineas, those of the Cardinal 
 Virtues are now in the possession of the Marchioness 
 of Thoraond. 
 
 The final execution was entrusted to Mr. Jervis, 
 whose portrait, as well as that of Sir Joshua himself, 
 is introduced in the larger compartment; they are rep- 
 resented as shepherds. 
 
 Mr. Jervis originally practised in Dublin, as a 
 painter on glass ; but his friencls pointing out to him 
 the superior advantages which might arise from a 
 residence in London, he proceeded to that capital, and 
 was employed both by Sir Joshua and Mr. West in 
 the transmission of their works from canvas to be pre- 
 served on glass, at Oxford, Windsor, and Greenwich. 
 
 With respect to the great work, which is noticed 
 with great and due praise both by Dr. Warton, and 
 by Mr. Thomas Warton, I may also be permitted 
 to add some of Sir Joshua's own observations, as 
 contained in a letter preserved by Mr. JVlalone in his 
 work. 
 
 It seems that it had been at first intended to dis- 
 tribute the various figures in different parts of the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^17 
 
 chapel; but this Sir Joshua very jiuliciously opposed, 
 and prevailed on the parties concerned to have the 
 west window prepared for the reception of the whole 
 by an alteration of the stone work. In a letter, written 
 about two years previous to this, he had observed, 
 " Supposing this scheme to take place, my idea is to 
 paint, in the great space in the centre, Christ in the 
 Manger, on the principle that Corregio has done it, 
 in the famous picture called the *N*otte; making all 
 the light proceed from Christ. These tricks of the 
 art, as they may be called, seem to be more properly 
 adapted to glass painting, than any other kind. Tiiis 
 middle space will be filled with the Virgin, Christ, 
 Joseph, and angels; the two smaller spaces on each 
 side 1 shall fill with the shepherds coming to worship ; 
 and the seven divisions below with the figures of 
 Faith, Hope, Charity, and the Four Cardinal Vir- 
 tues; which will make a proper rustic base, ov foun- 
 dation for the support of the Christian Religion. 
 Upon the whole, it appears to me, that chance has 
 presented to us materials so well adapted to our pur- 
 pose, that if we had the whole window of our own in- 
 vention and contrivance, we should not probably have 
 succeeded better." 
 
 The execution of this window soon after drew fortli 
 the following address, which is too poetic to be passed 
 over : 
 
 " Ah! stay thy treach'roushand, forbear to trace 
 Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! 
 Ah ! cease to spread thy bright transparent mass 
 With Titian's pencil, o'er the speaking glass ! 
 Nor steal, by strokes of art, with truth combin'd, 
 The fond illusions of my wayward mind! 
 For long enamour'd of a barb'rous age, 
 A faithless truant to the classic page, 
 Long have I lov'd to catch the simple chime 
 Of minstrel harps, and spell the fabling rhyme; 
 To view the festive rites, the knightly play, 
 That deck'd heroic Albion's elder day ; 
 To mark the mould'ring halls of barons bold, 
 And the rough castle? cast in giant mould :
 
 218 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 With Gothic manners, Gothic arts explorCj 
 And muse on the magnificence of yore. 
 
 " But chief, enraptur'd,have I lov'd to roam, 
 A ling'ring votary, the vaulted dome, 
 Where the tall shafts, that mount in massy pride, 
 Their mingling branches shoot from side to side; 
 Where elfin sculptors, with fantastic clew. 
 O'er the long roof their wild embroid'ry drew; 
 Where Superstition, with capricious hand, 
 In many a maze the wretched window plann'd, 
 With hues romantic ting'd the gorgeous pane, 
 To fill with holy light the wondrous fane; 
 To aid the builder's model, richly rude, 
 By no Vitruvian symmetry subdued ; 
 To suit the genius of the mystic pile; 
 Whilst as around the far retiring aisle, 
 And fretted shrines with hoary trophies hung, 
 Her dark illumination wide she flung, 
 W^ith new solemnity, the nooks profound. 
 The caves of death, and the dim arches frown'd; 
 From bliss long felt unwillingly we part; 
 Ah ! spare the weakness of a lover's heart! 
 Chance not the phantoms of my fairy dream, 
 Phantoms that shrink at Reason's painful gleam I 
 That softer touch, insidious artist stay. 
 Nor to new joys my struggling breast betray ! 
 
 «' Such w-as a pensive bard's mistaken strain. — 
 But oh! of ravish'd pleasures why complain? 
 No more the matchless skill I call unkind 
 That strives to disenchant my cheated mind. 
 For when again I view thy chaste design. 
 The just proportion, and the genuine line; 
 Those native portaitures of Attic art. 
 That from the lucid surface seem to start; 
 Those tints that steal no glories from the day. 
 Nor ask the sun to lend his streaniing ray; 
 The doubtful radiance of contending dyes, 
 That faintly mingle yet distinctly rise; 
 'Tvvixt light and shade the transitory strife; 
 The feature blooming with immortal life : 
 The stole in casual foldings taught to flow, 
 Not with ambitious ornaments to glow; 
 The tread majestic, and the beaming eye 
 That lifted speaks its commerce with the sky ; 
 Sudden, the sombrous imag'ry is fled, 
 AVhich late my visionary rapture fed ;
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. gl9 
 
 Thy powerful hand has broke the Gothic chain, 
 And brought my bosom back, to truth again : 
 To truth, whose bold and unresisted aim 
 Checks frail caprice, and fashion's fickle claim ; 
 To Truth, whose charms deception's magic quell, 
 And bind coy Fancy in a stronger spell. 
 
 " Ye brawny prophets, that in robes so rich, 
 At distance due, possess the crisped niche ; 
 Ye rows of patriarchs, that sublimely rear'd, 
 Diffuse a proud primeval length of beard; 
 Ye saints, who clad in crimson's bright array, 
 More pride than humble poverty display ; 
 Ye virgins meek, that wear the palmy crown 
 Of patient faith, and yet so fiercely frown : 
 Ye angels, that from golden clouds recline, 
 But boast no semblance to a race divine; 
 Ye tragic tales of legendary lore. 
 That draw devotion's ready tear no more; 
 Ye martyrdoms of unenlightened days, 
 Ye miracles, that now no wonder raise; 
 Shapes that with one broad glare the gazer strike! 
 Kings, bishops, nuns, apostles, all alike! 
 Ye colours, that th' unwary sight amaze, 
 And only dazzle in the noontide blaze! 
 No more the sacred window's round disgrace, 
 But yield to Grecian groupes the shining space, 
 Lo ! from the canvas Beauty shifts her throne, 
 Lol Picture's powers a new formation own! 
 Behold, she prints upon the chrystal plain, 
 "With her own energy, th' expressive stain ! 
 The mighty master spreads his mimic toil 
 More wide, nor only blends the breathing oil ; 
 But calls the lineaments of life complete 
 From genial alchemy's creative heat; 
 Obedient forms to tiie bright fusion gives, 
 While in the warm enamel nature lives. 
 Artist, 'tis thine, from the broad window's height, 
 To add new lustre to religious light: 
 Not of its pomp to strip this ancient shrine. 
 But bid that pomp with purer radiance shine : 
 With arts unknown before, to reconcile 
 The willing Graces to the Gothic pile." 
 
 In this, the concluding passage is justly applicable 
 to Mr. Jervis, who so dexterously executed the 
 mechanical part of Sir Joshua's excpiisite designs;
 
 2^0 xMEMOlRS OF 
 
 and tliiis gave to the great master's ■work a degree of 
 immortality, vvliich may j)erhai)s outlive the canvas. 
 
 The second discourse delivered this year, on the 
 Itth of Deceml)erj was the tenth in succession; and 
 in this Sir Joshua, stepping out of what may strictly 
 be termed his own line of art, investigated the ob- 
 jects, form, and character of Sculpture, which he con- 
 sidcrcd as possessing but one style ; he also noticed 
 t!ie inelFectual attempts of sculptors, of the present 
 day, to improve the art, arising partly from the 
 costume of modern times not being so Avell suited to 
 execution as that of the classic ages. 
 
 He commenced by explaining his reasons for not 
 liaving sooner noticed this particular branch of art, on 
 the principle that Painting is mucli more extensive 
 and complicated than Sculpture, and afibrds, there- 
 fore, a more ample field for criticism; and consequent- 
 ly as the greater includes the less, the leading prin- 
 ciples of sculpture are comprized in those of painting. 
 The former he considered as an art of much more 
 simplicity and uniformity than the latter, as it cannot 
 with propriety, or the best effect, be applied to many 
 subjects ; the objects of its pursuit being comprized in 
 two words. Form and Character, which qualities can 
 be presented in one manner, or in one style, only. 
 
 He then noticed that the sculptors of the last age, 
 not having attended sufficiently to the discrimination 
 of the several styles of painting, have been led into 
 many errors; so that when they endeavoured to copy 
 the picturesque effects, contrasts or petty excellencies 
 of whatever kind, which not improperly find a place 
 in the inferior branches of painting, they doubtless 
 imagined themselves improving and extending the 
 boundaries of their art by this imitation ; but, on the 
 contrary. Sir Joshua was of opinion, that they were 
 in reality violating its essential character, by giving a 
 difilerent direction to its operations, and proposing to 
 themselves either w hat is unattainable, or at best a 
 meaner object of pursuit. " The grave and austere 
 character of Sculpture," says he, ^^ requires the ut-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 22i 
 
 most degree of formality in composition; picturesque 
 contrasts iiave here no place; every thing is carefully 
 weighed and measured, one side making almost an 
 exact equipoise to the other: a child is not a proper 
 balance to a full grown figure, nor is a figure sitting 
 or stooping a companion to an upright figure." 
 
 He further laid it down as a principle, that the ex- 
 cellence of every art must consist in the complete ac- 
 complishment of its purpose, but that all false imita- 
 tions of nature, arising from a mean ambition of pro- 
 ducing a picturesque effect or illusion of any kind, 
 thereby degrading that grandeur of ideas which the 
 art ougiit to excite, must be strictly guarded against. 
 This he exemplified in a familiar manner, by ob- 
 serving, that if the business of Sculpture were only to 
 administer pleasure to ignorance, or a mere enter- 
 tainment to the senses, then the Venus de Medicis 
 might certainly receive much improvement by colour; 
 '"' but the character of sculpture makes it her duty to 
 afford delight of a different, and, perhaps, of a higlier 
 kind — the delight resulting from the contemplation of 
 perfect beauty ; and this, which is in truth an intel- 
 lectual pleasure, is in many respects incompatible 
 with what is merely addressed to the senses, such as 
 that with which ignorance and levity contemplate ele- 
 gance of form.'' 
 
 In the progress of this discourse. Sir Joshua stated 
 some other truths which are of that general tenor and 
 import to deserve a place here. " What Grace is,*' 
 said he, ^^ how it is to be acquired or conceived, are 
 in speculation difficult questions; but causa latet, res 
 est notissima: without any perplexing inquiry, the 
 effect is hourly perceived. I shall only observe, that 
 its natural foundation is correctness of design ; and 
 though grace may be sometimes united with incor 
 rectness, it cannot proceed from it,'' 
 
 Another observation may be no less interesting and 
 important to the general reader. *• It may be remark- 
 ed that Grace, Character, and Expression, though 
 words of different sense and meaning, and so under"-
 
 S33 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 stood when applied to the works of painters, are in- 
 discriminately used when we speak of Sculpture. 
 This indecision we may expect to proceed from the 
 undetermined eii'ects of the art itself; those qualities 
 are exhibited in Sculpture, rather by form and atti- 
 tude, than by the features, and can therefore be ex- 
 pressed but in a very general manner.'' 
 
 The happy manner which Sir Josiiua possessed of 
 drawing moral reflections from the excellencies of art, 
 and of thereby extending the usefulness of his instruc- 
 tion, was exemplitied in his conclusion, when lie ob- 
 served, that there is no circumstance which more dis- 
 tinguishes a well regulated and sound taste, than a 
 settled uniformity of design, where all the parts are 
 compact, and fitted to each other, every thing being of 
 a piece. " This principle extends itself to all habits 
 of life, as well as to all works of art." Upon these 
 general grounds, then, he drew his inference, that the 
 uniformity and simplicity of the materials on which 
 the sculptor labours, prescribe bounds to his art, and 
 teach him to confine himself to a proportionate simpli- 
 city of design. 
 
 Sir Joshua's exertions for the Exhibition in 1781, 
 were principally confined to three paintings, of \vhich 
 Dr. Beattie thus observes in a letter written from 
 London in the JVIay of that year, " The exhibition of 
 pictures at the Royal Academy is the best of the kind 
 I have seen. The best pieces, in my opinion, are 
 Thais (with a torch in her hand ;) the Death of Dido ; 
 and a JFJoy supposed to be listening to a wonderful 
 story; these are by Sir Joshua Reynolds." I do 
 not, indeed, insert this criticism as a support to Sir 
 Joshua's fame, but rather for the purpose of noticing 
 a fact, not generally known, that Sir Joshua's literary 
 aid was not neglected by his literary friends ; a fact 
 completely at variance with those critics who have 
 tliought proper to deny him the merit of writing his 
 own discourses. 
 
 Beattie was at this very period preparing his " Es- 
 say on Beauty" for the press, and in this he seems
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g23 
 
 evidently to have consulted Sir Joshua; for in a letter 
 to the Dutchess of Gordon he says, " However one 
 must keep one's word; and as your Grace desired to 
 see this Essay, and I promised to send it (as soon as 
 I could get it transcribed,) I send it accordingly. I 
 should not give you the trouble to return it, if I had 
 not promised a reading of it to Sir Joshua Reynolds." 
 
 Sir Joshua, indeed, seems to have been applied to 
 by his friends on all occasions; and by none ofteuer 
 than by Dr. Johnson, particularly for charitable pur- 
 poses. 
 
 Of this there is an instance, in a note of Johnson's 
 preserved in his life, too honourable to him to be here 
 omitted. 
 
 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 ^* Dear Sir, 
 
 " It was not before yesterday that I received 
 your splendid benefaction. To a hand so liberal in 
 distributing, I hope nobody will envy the power of 
 acquiring. 
 
 " I am, Dear Sir, 
 
 *^ Your obliged and most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson."' 
 Jane g3, 1781. 
 
 A few days afterwards, Johnson received from 
 Miss Frances Reynolds (a lady to whom he was al- 
 ways known to have had a very high regard, and who 
 died at the advanced age of eighty, on the 1st of No- 
 vember, 1807?) a copy of a work written by her, 
 privately printed, but never published, called an 
 " Essay on Taste." In return for this he sejiit her the 
 following letter.
 
 224 iMExMOlRS OF 
 
 '^ to mrs. fuances reynolds. 
 
 *•' Dearest Madam, 
 
 " There is in tliese few pages, or remarks, such 
 depth of penetration, such nicety of observation, as 
 Loclie or Pascal might be proud of. This I desire 
 you to believe is my real opinion. 
 
 " However, it cannot be published in its present 
 state. Many of your notions seem not to be very clear 
 in your own mind : many arc not sufficiently develop- 
 ed and expanded for the common reader : it wants 
 every where to be made smoother and plainer. 
 
 " You may, by revisal and correction, make it at 
 very elegant and a very curious work. 
 
 " I am, my dearest dear, 
 
 ** Your affectionate and obedient servant, 
 
 "'•^ Samuel Johnson.*' 
 
 Bolt Court, June 28, I78I. 
 
 To return to the subject of the Exhibition of this 
 year, I may remark, that this picture of Thais gave 
 rise, but very unjustly, to some attempts at scanda- 
 lous anecdote. In a periodical work of the time, it 
 was noticed tliat this picture was highly admired ; 
 that tlie painter had caught the very spirit of the 
 heroine, and that she seemed rushing from the canvas 
 to destroy Persepolis. 
 
 The Critic then observed, that there was an anec- 
 dote hanging on this picture, which was circulated by 
 the enemies of Sir Joshua when he exhibited it; but 
 this the writer very properly refused to give credit to, 
 as a thing derogatory to Sir Joshua's general conduct 
 and feelings. ^' The whisper insisted that the face of 
 this picture was painted for the famous Emily Bertie, 
 that she paid him seventy-five guineas down, and 
 was to pay him the like sum when the picture was 
 finished, which she was unable to do; the picture re-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 225 
 
 inaiiied with Sir Joshua some time, m hen he, iinillug 
 it not called for, took it into his head to metamorphose 
 Emily Bertie into Thais, and exhibit her to the world 
 in her proper character, rushing with a torch to set 
 the Temple of Chastity on fire." He then adds, that 
 ^^ the truth of the matter is, Sir Joshua has now got 
 the picture of the lovely Emily in his collection, and 
 Thais has no kind of connexion with it, except that of 
 two faces in a small degree resembling each other.*' 
 To which I can add, from my own knowledge, that 
 the whole story is an entire fabrication of folly; for 
 Sir Joshua never painted any person of the name of 
 Emily Bertie. The portrait in the character of Thais 
 was painted in the year 1776, the head only, on a 
 whole length canvas, from a beautiful young girl who 
 was known by the name of Emily Coventry; she 
 afterwards accompanied a gentleman to the East 
 Indies, and there died young. The picture was not 
 finished till the year 1781? and then sold to Mr. 
 
 G for one hundred guineas; it is now in the 
 
 possession of the Earl of Dysart, and is particularly 
 excellent. 
 
 The other picture of Dido w^as mucli admired, and 
 drew immense crowds to the Exhibition, exciting the 
 applause not only of Englishmen, but of the most 
 judicious foreigners, by the beauty of the countenance 
 and the extreme richness of the colouring. 
 
 In the month of July, 1781, Sir Joshua set off, in 
 company with his friend Mr. Metcalf, for the Conti- 
 nent, with the intention of examining the various 
 celebrated productions of the Dutch and Flemish 
 schools. , 
 
 The two friends left London on the 24th, and pro- 
 ceeded in a post chaise for Margate, where they took 
 shipping for Ostend, and from the latter place they took 
 the route of Ghent, Brussels, and thence to Mechlin, 
 at which latter place. Sir Joshua paid particular atten- 
 tion to the altar-piece in the cathedral, the work of 
 Rubens, and of which he related an anecdote illustra,- 
 tive of that artist's manner of proceeding in his large
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 works. This anecdote lias been given moi^e at length 
 in the notes written by himself on the various produc- 
 tions of the pencil seen in tiiis tour, published in his 
 works, and which, indeed, were taken with the inten- 
 tion of drawing up a sketch of the tour for the press, 
 but this he never proceeded further in than the writing 
 a few introductory paragraphs addressed to his com- 
 panion to whom he meant to dedicate it. 
 
 It seems that a citizen of Mechlin having bespoke 
 this picture for the cathedral, was anxious to avoid the 
 danger of its removal, and therefore requested Rubens 
 to paint it in the church, to w hich he assented, as his 
 own country seat at Stein was in the vicinity of that 
 city. He therefore completed his sketch in colours, 
 and intrusted one of his scholars, of the name of Van 
 Egmout, with the task of dead colouring the canvas for 
 the great picture at Mechlin, from this sketch. 
 
 The person who bespoke it, on receiving notice of 
 this circumstance, immediately stopped Van Egmont's 
 labours, exclaiming that he had engaged for a picture 
 from the hand of the master and not of the scholar. 
 However, as Sir Joshua adds, Rubens satisfied him 
 that this was always his method of proceeding; and 
 that this piece would be as completely his work as if 
 he had done the whole from the beginning. " The 
 citizen was satisfied, and Rubens proceeded with the 
 picture, which appears to me to have no indications of 
 neglect in any part ; on the contrary, I think it has 
 been one of his best pictures, though, those who know 
 this circumstance pretend to see Van Egmont's in- 
 ferior genius transpire through Ruben's touches." 
 
 From Mechlin, the travellers proceeded to Ant- 
 werp, and having seen almost every thing curious in 
 Flanders, set off for Holland, where they visited 
 Dort, the Hague, thence to Leyden, and Amsterdam, 
 from whence they made a short excursion into Ger- 
 many, crossing the Rhine near Dusseldorf, at which 
 latter place Sir Joshua records a curious pictorial 
 anecdote.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g^ 
 
 Being much pleased with the easy access to the 
 famous Dusseldorf Gallery, and with the liberty of 
 staying in it as long as he chose, and also with the 
 extreme facilities aftbrded to students, many of whom 
 he found copying in the gallery, and others in a large 
 room, above stairs, expressly allotted for that pur- 
 pose, Sir Joshua mentioned his great satisfaction at 
 this liberal arrangement to the keeper, Mr. Kraye ; 
 but this gentleman informed him that although it was 
 the Electors wish to afford the most perfect accommo- 
 dation to visitors, yet in regard to the students, he 
 took some credit to himself: foD when he first asked 
 the Elector's permission for their copj'ing the pictures, 
 that prince refused the boon, asserting, that the copies 
 would be offered for sale as originals, which multi- 
 plication would deteriorate the value of his collection. 
 To this unfounded objection, Mr. Kraye answered, 
 that painters capable of taking such copies as might 
 pass for originals, were not likely to do so, as their 
 time was fully occupied on originals of their own, and 
 that the copies of the young students could not hurt his 
 originals as they could only impose upon the ignorant 
 whose opinions were below his Highness's attention. 
 To this he added the very forcible argument, that if 
 the Elector wished to produce artists in his own coun- 
 try, the refusal of such advantages to the student would 
 be most unwise, and exactly on a parity with a person 
 who should pretend to be a patron of literature, and 
 yet in his attempts to produce scholars should refuse 
 them the use of a library. To reasoning so plain and 
 simple, the Elector must have been stupid indeed if he 
 had refused assent, and Mr. Kraye h.ad carte blanche 
 accorded to him in favour of the youthful pupils. 
 
 From Dusseldorf, the two friends proceeded for 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, and Liege: thence by the way of 
 Brussels to Ostend, where they re-embarked, and 
 landing at Margate, arrived, on Sunday the l6th of 
 September, at the metropolis. 
 
 Whilst at Antwerp, Sir Joshua had taken particu- 
 lar notice of a young man of the name of De Gree, 
 iih
 
 g28 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ■\vl)o liad exliibiteil some considerable talents as a 
 painter. His father was a taylor, anil he himself had 
 heen intended for some clerical oifice, but as it is said 
 by a late writer, having formed a different opinion of 
 liis religion than was intended, from the books put 
 into his hand l)y an Abbe who was his patron, it was 
 discovered that he would not do for a priest, and the 
 Abbe therefore articled him to Gerrards of Antwerp. 
 Sir Joshua received him, on his arrival in England, 
 with much kindness, and even recommended to him 
 most strongly to pursue his profession in the metropo- 
 lis ; but I)e Grce was unwilling to consent to this, as 
 he had been previously engaged by Mr. Latouche to 
 proceed to Ireland. Even here Sir Joshua's friendly 
 attentions did not cease, for he actually made the poor 
 artist a present of flfiy guineas to fit him for his Hiber- 
 nian excursion, the whole of which, however, the 
 careful son sent over to Antwerp for the use of his 
 aged parents. 
 
 About this tioie Mr. Opie came first to settle in 
 London, accompanied by his friend Dr. Wolcot, when 
 the novelty and originality of his manner in his 
 pictures, added to his great abilities, drew an univer- 
 sal attention from the connoisseurs, and he was im- 
 mediately surrounded and employed by all the princi- 
 pal nobility of England. 1 remember that Sir Joshua 
 himself compared him to Carravagio. 
 
 However, it is curious to observe the changes which 
 frequently happen in the course of a very short 
 period, and if we oftener made this the subject of our 
 reflection, it would have a great tendency to check our 
 vanity in prosperity, and give us consolation even in 
 situations apparently the most forlorn : for in a very 
 little space of time that capricious public who had so 
 violently admired and employed Opie, when first he 
 appeared, and was a novelty among them, and was, 
 in reality only the embryo of a painter, yet, when he 
 had proved himself to be a real artist, they left him 
 with disgust because he was a novelty no longer. 
 They now looked out for his defects alone, and he
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 229 
 
 became in his turn totally neglected and forgotten, 
 and instead of being the sole object of public attention, 
 and having the street, where he lived, so crowded 
 with coaches of the nobilitj as to become a real 
 nuisance to the neighbourhood, and when, as he jest- 
 ingly observed to me, that he thought he must place 
 cannon at his door to keep the multitude off from it, he 
 now found himself as entirely deserted as if his house 
 had been infected with the plague. — Such is tlie 
 world ! 
 
 He afterwards by painting some fine historical 
 pictures for tlie Shakspeare gallery, &c., became 
 again the object of moderate attention aud employ- 
 ment, gained by his own shew of merit; but not like 
 the first onset, for the "world are never infatuated twice 
 by the same object. 
 
 It was an observation made to me by old Mr. 
 Wilton, the statuary, that he thought Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds was the only eminent painter that had been 
 able to call back the public to himself after they had 
 grown tired of him, and which he had done more than 
 once. This Vandyke could not accomplish ; but when 
 lie was deserted in England, as one who had been too 
 long the object of attention, went over to Paris in 
 hope to gain employment there ; but even there he 
 was no novelty : and it not answering his expecta- 
 tions, he returned to England, where he soon after 
 died, which leaves it uncertain what would have been 
 the consequence had he survived. 
 
 Yet certain it is, that Sir Joshua was not much 
 employed in portraits after Romney grew into fashion, 
 although the difference between those painters was so 
 immense. 
 
 We have to regret that Mr. Opie died at an early 
 period of his life, and before he had time fully to make 
 the trial of winning a second time the capricious world 
 to appreciate justly those abilities which will ever 
 rank him among the first of English painters. 
 
 I knew him very well ; and I shall take the liberty 
 to insert in this place the following character, which I
 
 230 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 wrote immediately ou bis death, and whicli is my true 
 opinion of him. 
 
 "JOHN OPIE, Esq., R. A. 
 
 *^ Professor of Painting to the Royal Academy. 
 
 '' Died April 9th, I8O7. 
 
 *^ A man whose intellectual powers, and indefatiga- 
 ble industry in their cultivation, rendered him at 
 once an honour to the country from which be origi. 
 nated, and an example of imitation to mankind. 
 
 " Born in a rank of life in which the road to emi- 
 nence is rendered infiuitely diflBcult, unassisted by 
 partial patronage, scorning, with virtuous pride, all 
 slavery of dependence, he trusted alone for his reward 
 to the force of his natural powers, and to well directed 
 and unremitting study ; and he demonstrated, by his 
 works, how highly he was endowed by nature with 
 sti-ength of judgment and originality of conception. 
 His thoughts were always new and striking, as they 
 were the genuine offspring of his own mind ; and it is 
 ditiicult to say if his ccmversation gave more amuse- 
 ment or instruction. 
 
 '^ The toil or difficulties of his profession were by 
 him considered as matter of honourable and delightful 
 contest; and it might be said of him that he did not so 
 much paint to live, as live to paint. 
 
 '^ As a son he was an example of duty to an aged 
 parent. He was studious yet not severe; he was 
 eminent yet not vain : his disposition so tranquil and 
 forgiving, that it was the reverse of every tincture of 
 sour or vindictive; and what to some might have 
 appeared as rougliness of manner, was only the effect 
 of an honest indignation towards that which he con- • 
 ceived to be error. 
 
 " How greatly have we cause to lament that so 
 much talent, united to so much industry', perseverance, 
 and knowledge, should have been prematurely snatch
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g31 
 
 cd from the world, which it would Iiave delighted 
 with its powers, and benefited by its example 1" 
 
 J. N. 
 
 Of the opinion of connoisseurs concerning Sir 
 Joshua we may form some idea from the numerous 
 compliments which were paid him at this crisis. 
 
 Mr. Nichols in his Life of Hogarth, whilst speak- 
 ing of that artist's attempt to paint a Sigismunda^ 
 which should surpass that of Corregio now at tiie 
 Duke of Newcastle's, at Clumber Park, says that, 
 " to express a sorrow like that of TaiicreiVs (Sif- 
 fredi's) daughter, few modern artists are fully quali- 
 fied, if we except indeed Sir Joshua Reynolds, with 
 whose pencil Beauty in all her forms, and the 
 Passions in all their varieties, are equally famil- 
 iar." 
 
 The London Courant in the same year also speaks 
 ef " Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose works the ac- 
 knowledged patterns of grace and expression, con- 
 duce not more to excite emulation, than his lectures 
 serve to instruct the students in the solid principles of 
 design and composition." To which I may justly add 
 some observations from a Preface to Imitations of 
 Drawings, by Mr. Rogers, in which it is expressed 
 '^ how happy it is for the Academy to have for its 
 first President a genius who feels, and is sensible of 
 the necessity of enlarging the ideas of youth, by 
 placing before them the works of the great masters; 
 who teaclies them to disregard the tinsel of the last 
 age, but eagerly to search after the rich ore of that of 
 Leo X., and who directs them in the proper method 
 of bringing the golden fleece out of Italy into his 
 Majesty's dominions." 
 
 With such a fame, particularly among the eminent 
 for talents, it is not surprizing that all his friends 
 were much alarmed at a slight paralytic affection, 
 which after an almost uninterrupted course of good 
 health for many years, attacked him at this period.
 
 23S MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tliis was but slight, however, as its effects were com- 
 pletely removed in the space of a few weeks, to the 
 great happiness of all who knew him, but perhaps of 
 none more than Dr. Johnson, wiio wrote him thfe fol- 
 lowing letter ou the occasion. 
 
 **' Dear Sir, 
 
 " I heard yesterday of your late disorder, and 
 should think ill of myself if I had heard of it without 
 alarm. I heard likewise of your recovery, which I 
 sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. Your 
 country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest 
 ornaments, and I of losing one of my oldest and kind- 
 est friends : but I hope you will still live long, for the 
 honour of the nation ; and that more enjoyment of 
 your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevo- 
 lence, is still reserved for, 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 '* Your most affectionate, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson/' 
 
 Briglithelmstone, J\*ov. i^th, 1783. 
 
 It was not, however, to his partial friends alone 
 that Sir Joshua was dear ; for in this very year we find 
 him praised by an universal satirist; one who, with 
 original humour, had magnified the most unimportant 
 actions of royalty into foibles, and foibles into follies ; 
 it is unnecessary to add the name of Peter Pindar, 
 ■who was indeed an excellent critic on art, and 
 amused himself occasionally in landscape painting, 
 and therefore the better qualified to judge of the ex- 
 cellencies of Sir Joshua. 
 
 In his Lyric Odes of this year, he has several al- 
 lusions to the President of the Academy. 
 
 « Close by them hung Sir Joshua's matchless pieces- 
 Works ! that a Titian's hand could form alone — 
 Works! that a Rubens had been proud to own."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 233 
 
 And again in his farewell Odes, nearly of the same 
 date, he advises a painter to 
 
 « Be pleased like Reynolds to direct the blind, 
 Who aids the feeble faltering feet of youth 5 
 
 Unfolds the ample volume of his mind, 
 
 With genius stor'd and Nature's simple truth." 
 
 Exclaiming also in anothar part — 
 
 " Lo ! Reynolds shines with undiminish'd ray ! 
 Keeps, like the bird of Jove, his distant way : 
 Yet, simple Portrait strikes too oft our eyes, 
 Whilst History, anxious for his pencil, sighs." 
 
 Such praises, from such an author, may well be 
 considered as sincere and genuine. 
 
 Sir Joshua was sufficiently recovered from his late 
 illness to give his usual discourse on the tenth of De- 
 cember, the objects of which, at this period, were the 
 investigation of genius, and the proof that it refers to 
 the taking of general ideas only, and consists princi- 
 pally in the comprehension of a grand whole. 
 
 The generally received opinion of the worth of 
 Genius, he exemplified by the position that it was the 
 height of every artist's ambition, wlio, so long as he 
 could procure the addition of the supposed possession 
 of this quality to his name, will always patiently bear 
 any imputation of incorrectness, of carelessness, and. 
 in short, of any other defect. 
 
 The extravagant length to which this desire may 
 be sometimes carried, he instanced by saying that 
 some go such lengths as to trace its indication in ab- 
 solute faults, not only exercising such faults on account 
 of genius, but actually presuming genius from theix 
 existence. 
 
 As this discourse was more specifically addressed to 
 artists than to the world in general, I shall not exam- 
 ine it further than to introduce his definition of genius 
 as applied to a painter; and he says, '^ this Genius 
 consists, I conceive, in the power of expressing that
 
 334 > MEMOIRS OF 
 
 \vhich employs your pencil, whatever it may be, as a 
 u'hole; so that the general effect and power of the 
 whole may take possession of the mind, and for a 
 while suspend the consideration of the subordinate 
 and particular beauties or defects.'' — In addition to 
 which, he concluded his discourse, by stating, that 
 ^^ the great busiuess of study is, to form a mind, 
 adapted and adequate to all times and all occasions ; 
 to which all nature is then laid open, and which 
 may be said to possess the key of her inexhaustible 
 riches." 
 
 In the beginning of this year the Academy suffered 
 a very considerable loss in the death of its able and 
 active keeper; and one to whom the Institution, in a 
 great degree, owed its establishment. The demise of 
 Mr. Moser, the first person who held the office in the 
 Royal Academy, was honoured by Sir Joshua, in a 
 public testimonial to his memory, which was inserted 
 in the newspapers of the day: the character is justly 
 given by his sincere friend ; and as it relates to the 
 arts, as well as to the subject of our Memoir, cannot, 
 Avith propriety, be omitted. 
 
 It is now given, (says Mr. Malone,) from a copy in 
 Sir Joshua's hand-writing. 
 
 " January 24, 1783. 
 
 '* Yesterday died, at his apartments in Somerset- 
 place, George Michael Moser, Keeper of the Royal 
 Academy; aged seventy- eight years. He was a native 
 of Switzerland, but came to England very young, to 
 follow the profession of a chaser in gold, in which art 
 he has been always considered as holding the first 
 rank. But his skill was not confined to this ftlone ; he 
 possessed an universal knowledge in all branches of 
 painting and sculpture, which perfectly qualified him 
 for the place that he held in the Academy, the business 
 of which principally consists iu superintending and 
 instructing the students, who draw or model from the 
 antique figures.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ^35 
 
 '* His private character deserves a more ample tes- 
 timony than this transient memorial. Few have passed 
 a more inoffensive, or, perhaps, a more happy life; if 
 happiness, or enjoyment of life, consists in having the 
 mind always occupied, always intent upon some 
 useful art, by which fame and distinction may be ac- 
 quired. Mr. Moser's whole attention was absorbed, 
 either in practice, or sometliing that related to the ad- 
 vancement of art. He may truly be said, in every 
 sense, to have been tlie father of the present race of 
 artists ; for long before the Royal Academy was es- 
 tablished, he presided over the little societies which 
 met first in Salisbury-court, and aftcwards in St. 
 Martin's-lane, where they drew from living models. 
 Perhaps nothing that can be said will more strongly 
 imply his amiable disposition, than that all tlie dif- 
 ferent societies with which he has been connected, 
 have always turned their eyes upon him for their 
 treasurer and ciiief manager ; when, periiaps, they 
 would not have contentedly submitted to any other 
 authority. His early society was composed of men 
 whose names are well known in the world ; such as 
 Hogarth, Rysbracii, Roubiliac, Wills, Ellis, Van- 
 derbank, &c. 
 
 *^ Though he had outlived all the companions of 
 his youth, he might, to the last, liave boasted of a suc- 
 cession equally numerous; for all that knew him were 
 his friends. 
 
 " When he was appointed Keeper of the Royal 
 Academy, his conduct was exemplary, and worthy to 
 be imitated by whoever shall succeed him in that 
 office. As he loved the employment of teaching, he 
 could not fail of discharging that duty with diligence. 
 By the propriety of his conduct he united the love and 
 respect of the students ; he kept order in the Academy, 
 and made himself respected, without the austerity or 
 importance of office ; all noise and tumult immediately 
 ceased on his appearance; at the same time there was 
 nothing forbidding in his manner, which might restrain 
 
 I i
 
 S86 JNIEMOIRS OF 
 
 file pupils from freely applying to liira for advice or 
 assistance. 
 
 *' All this excellence bad a firm foundation : he 
 "Was a man of sincere and ardent piety, and lias left 
 nn illustrious example of the exactness Avitli which 
 the subordinate duties may be expected to be dis- 
 charged by him whose first care is to please God. 
 
 '»' He has left one daughter behind him, wiio has 
 distinguished herself by the admirable manner in 
 wliicli she paints and composes pieces of flowers, of 
 which many samples have been seen in the exhibi- 
 tions. She has had the honour of being much employ- 
 ed in this way by their Majesties, and for her extra- 
 ordinary merit has been received into the Royal 
 Academy." 
 
 Mr. Lowe,* the painter, as stated by Mr. Bosv^ell, 
 in his Life of Johnson, was very much distressed that 
 a large picture which he had painted was refused to 
 be received into the Exhibition of the lloyal Acade- 
 my ; and as he was intimate with, and much befriend- 
 ed I)y, Dr. Johnson, he immediately applied to him 
 to use his interest with Sir Joshua in order to pro- 
 cure its admittance, on which Johnson sent the fol- 
 lowing letter to Sir Joshua Tleynolds, which letter I 
 have seen, and another to Mr. Barry, who at that 
 time was one of the council. 
 
 " to sir joshua keyxolds. 
 
 ^* Sir, 
 
 •• Mr. Lowe considers himself as cut oif from all 
 credit aud all hope, by the rejection of his picture 
 from the Exhibition. Upon this work he has ex- 
 
 * Mr. Lowe vas a natural son of the late Lord Sutherland, 
 from whom he had an annuity. He was much esteemed by Dr. 
 Johnsou, wlio bequeathed him a legacy, and stood to one of his 
 children as godlatlicr. He was sent to Rome by the patronage 
 of tlic Royal Academy, in consequence of his having gained 
 the gold medal in 1771; and died, at an obscure lodging in 
 Westminster, September, 1793.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 237 
 
 hausted all his powers, and suspended all his ex- 
 pectations: and certainly, to be refused an opportuni- 
 ty of taking the opinion of the public, is, in itself, a 
 ^yery great hardsiiip. It is to be condemned without a 
 atrial. 
 
 ^' If you could procure the revocation of this inca- 
 pacitating edict, you would deliver an unhappy man 
 from great affliction. The council lias sometimes re- 
 versed its own determinations; and I hope that, by 
 your interposition, this luckless picture may be got 
 admitted. 
 
 " I am, &c., 
 
 *< Sam. Johnson." 
 AjJvil 12, 1783. 
 
 ^' to james barry, esq. 
 
 *^ Sir, 
 
 " Mr. Lowe's exclusion from the Exhibition 
 gives him more trouble than you and the other gentle- 
 men of the council could imagine or intend. He 
 considers disgrace and ruin as the inevitable conse- 
 quence of your determination. He says, that some 
 pictures have been received after rejection; and if 
 there be any such precedent, 1 earnestly intreat that 
 you will use your interest in his favour. Qf his work 
 1 can say nothing: I pretend not to judge of painting; 
 and this picture I never saw : but I conceive it ex- 
 tremely hard to shut out any man from the possibility 
 of success ; and therefore I repeat my request, th;\t 
 you will propose the re-consideration of Mr. Lowe's 
 case; and if there be any among the council with 
 whom my name can have any weight, be pleased to 
 communicate to them the desire of. Sir, 
 
 " Your most humble Servant, 
 
 April 12, 1783, " Sam. Johnson.'^
 
 238 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Sncli intercession was too powerful to be resisted ; 
 and Mr. Lowe's performance was admitted at Somer- 
 set House, and exhibited there in an empty room. ' 
 Tlie subject was the Deluge, at that point of time 
 when the water was rising to the top of the last un- 
 covered mountain. Near to the spot was seen the last 
 of the antediluvian race, exclusive of those who were 
 saved in the ark of Noah. This was tme of those 
 giants, then the inhabitants of the earth, who had still 
 strength to swim, and with one of his hands held aloft 
 his infant child. Upon the small remaining dry spot 
 appeared a faraisl\ed lion ready to spring at the child 
 and devour it. Mr. Lowe told Bosvvell that Dr. 
 Johnson said to him, " Sir, your picture is noble and 
 probable." " A compliment indeed," said Mr. Lowe, 
 *^ from a man who cannot lie, and cannot be mistaken." 
 
 In this speech of Mr. Lowe's Me may perceive 
 how easily and readily vanity or conceit can give 
 flattery to itself. That Johnson would not lie we will 
 admit: but, in his own letter to Barry he allows an 
 ample field for mistake, as he confesses he knows 
 nothing of the art, and that he had never seen the 
 picture. I saw the picture myself when it was ex- 
 iiibited in an anti room in the Academy, and then 
 thought it had been much better for Mr. Lowe if he 
 had complied with the first decree of the council ; for 
 if the conception of the picture had been good, as Dr. 
 Johnson insinuates, yet the execution of it was ex- 
 ecrable beyond belief. Johnson was also mistaken in 
 saying it was like condemning without a trial. On 
 the contrary, Mr. Lowe had been tried, and by the 
 fairest jury, that of his peers, those of the same pro- 
 fession ; and the world confirmed their decision to be 
 just, as the picture, wlien shewn in public, was 
 universally condemned. 
 
 This Mr. Mauritius I^owe was the pupil of Mr. 
 Cipriani, but improved little under his tuition. He 
 was also admitted a student of the Royal Academy 
 among the first of those who entered that institution. 
 In this situation he made very slender advances in the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 239 
 
 art, bein^ too indolent and inattentive to his studies to 
 attain any excellence. But it is remarkable, that lie 
 was the person who obtained the gold medal lirst 
 offered by the Royal Academy to the student who 
 should produce the best historical picture. The sub- 
 ject given was Time discovering Truth. 
 
 If it be asked, how Mr. Lowe, though deficient as 
 an artist, could obtain tiie medal? it may witli truth be 
 said, that he owed his success to the partiality of the 
 Italian gentlemen, members of the Academy, who 
 voted for him at the solicitation of jMr. Barretti, for 
 whom Mr. Lowe had been a very favourable evidence 
 on his trial in the year I76U : for it is very certain 
 that Lowe's was not the best of the pictures offered 
 for the premium. 
 
 Of this year's Exhibition Dr. Johnson gives some 
 particulars in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, thus : 
 
 " On Saturday I dined, as is usual, at the open- 
 ing of the Exhibition. Our company was splendid, 
 whether more numerous than at any former time I 
 know not. Our tables seem always full. On Mon- 
 day, if I am told truth, were received at the door, one 
 hundred and ninety pounds, for the admission of three 
 thousand eight hundred spectators. Supposing the 
 show open ten hours, and the spectators staying one 
 with another, each an hour, the rooms never had fewer 
 than three hundred and eighty jostling against each 
 other. Poor Lowe met with some discouragement; 
 but I interposed for him, and prevailed.'' 
 
 Johnson's manners were indeed so very uncouth, 
 that he was not ilt to dine in public; I remember the 
 first time I ever had the pleasure to dine in company 
 with him, which was at Sir Joshua's talde, I was 
 previously advised not to seem to observe him in eat- 
 ing, as his manner was very slovenly at his meals, and 
 he was very angry if he thought it was remarked. 
 
 Mr. Bosw^ell in this year records an opinion of Sir 
 Joshua's on the subject of conversation, which may be 
 noticed in this place. When it had been proposed to 
 add some members to the Literary Club, (during
 
 240 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 GoUlsmitlrs life) that writer bad said in favour of it, 
 that it would give the Club an agreeable variety, that 
 there could then be nothing new among the members, 
 and that they had travelled over each other's minds ; 
 to wliich Johnson answered, " Sir, you have not 
 tia\elle(l over 7ny mind I promise you !'' When 
 Sir Joshua, was afterwards told of this, he agreed 
 with Goldsmith, saying that " when people have 
 lived a great deal together, they know what each 
 of them will say on the subject. A new under- 
 standing, tlierefore, is desirable ; because, tliough it 
 may only furnish the same sense upon a question 
 which would have been furnished by tliose with 
 whom we are accustomed to live, yet this sense will 
 have a difl'erent colouring; and colouring is of much 
 effect in every thing else as well as in painting.*' 
 
 The mention of Goldsmith calls to my recollection 
 a circumstance related to me by Miss Keynolds. 
 
 About the year 1770, Dr. Goldsmith lost his 
 mother, who died in Ireland. On this occasion he 
 immediately dressed himself in a suit of clothes of 
 grey cloth trimmed with black, such as commonly is 
 worn for second mourning. When he appeared the 
 first time after this at Sir Joshua Reynolds's house, 
 Miss F. Reynolds the sister of Sir Joshua, asked 
 him whom he had lost, as she saw he wore mourning? 
 when he answered, a distant relation only; being shy, 
 as I conjecture, to own that he wore such slight 
 mourning for so near a relative. This appears in him 
 an unaccountable blunder in wearing such a dress: as 
 all those who did not know his mother, or of her 
 death, would not expect or require him to wear 
 mourning at all, and to all those who knew of his 
 mother's death it would appear not to be the proper 
 dress of mourning for so near a relative; so that he 
 satisfied nobody and displeased some; for Miss Rey- 
 nolds, who afterwards heard of her death, thought it 
 unfeeling in him to call his mother a distant relation. 
 
 Mr. Barry seems at this period to have given vent 
 to some of his spleen against Sir Joshua Reynolds,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. S41 
 
 by a publication which is tlius noticed by Dr. Jolmson 
 in a letter to Mrs. Tlirale, on the 1st of May. — " Mr. 
 Barry's exhibition was opened the same day, and a 
 book is published to recommend it, which, if you 
 read it, you will find it decorated with some satirical 
 pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds and others. I have 
 ;iot escaped. You must, however, think vi'ith some 
 estimation of Barry for the comprehension of his 
 design." 
 
 This attack of Barry's certainly arose from that 
 morbid disposition in his own mind which made him 
 often quarrel with his best friends, and which was 
 perhaps heightened, at the present moment, by an 
 idea that Sir Joshua's influence in the Academy had 
 not been in his favour. 
 
 That influence was certainly great, but at tjje same 
 time always justly exerted ; and on the following day 
 after Johnson's note to Mrs. Thrale, we find him 
 soliciting the President's interest in favour of his 
 friend Mr. Cruikshanks as candidate for the anato- 
 mical professorship. 
 
 " to sir joshua reynolds. 
 
 '•' Dear Sir, 
 
 " The gentleman who waits on you with this is 
 Mr. Cruikshanks, who wishes to succeed his friend 
 Dr. Hunter, as Professor of Anatomy in the Royal 
 Academy. His qualifications are very generally 
 known, and it adds dignity to the institution that 
 such men are candidates. 
 
 " I am Sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 May 2df 1783, " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Johnson, though confessedly ignorant of painting, 
 seems however to have still been much interested in
 
 243 MEiMOIRS OF 
 
 tlie success of tlie Academy, whose exhibitions were 
 now arriving; at a great pitch of perfection. In a note, 
 written on the 8tii of May, he says, " The exhibition 
 prospers so niucli, that Sir Joshua says it will main- 
 tain the Academy : he estimates the probable amount 
 at 3000/." 
 
 While Mr. Barry was engaged in his great work 
 at the Adelphi Rooms, Mr. Penny resigned his 
 situation of professor of painting in the Royal Acade- 
 my, of wliich he had been possessed from the founda- 
 tion of the inf?titution, when Mr. Barry offered to fill 
 the vacant chair and was elected to it in 1782. 
 But he was not over diligent in preparing for the 
 duties of his office ; on which account Sir Joshua 
 Jieynolds made some remarks npon his conduct, to 
 which Barry retorted with great insolence and brutali- 
 ty. He gave his first lecture March 2, 1784. 
 
 In tiiis situation his turbulent disposition began to 
 express itself. His lectures very soon became mere 
 vehicles of invective and satire against the principal 
 Academicians, and most pointedly against Sir Joshua, 
 who was reduced by it to so awkward a situation in 
 his chair as an auditor, that he was obliged at last 
 either to appear to be asleep or to absent himself 
 from the place. After the death of Sir Joshua he be- 
 stowed high praise on him and great abuse on those 
 who were still alive, till at length a regnlar charge 
 was preferred against him, and it was found to be ab- 
 solutely necessary to dismiss him from the office of 
 lecturer, and also from the Royal Academy in 1799. 
 
 In the month of June this year, Johnson sat for 
 his picture to Miss Reynolds; much as he admired 
 that lady, however, he did not compliment her upon 
 that production, but when finished, told her it was 
 *" Johnson's grimly ghost ;^' and as the picture was 
 afterwards to be engraved, he recommended, as a 
 motto, the appropriate stanza from <he old ballad of 
 •' William and Margaret." 
 
 Dr. Johnson was indeed so accustomed to say al- 
 ways the exact truth, that he never condescended to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 213 
 
 give an equivocal answer to any question, of which 
 the following is an instance. 
 
 A laily of his acquaintance once asked him how it 
 happened that he was never invited to dine at the 
 tables of the great? 
 
 He replied, " Because, Madam, great lords and 
 ladies do not like to have their mouths stopped !" 
 
 In the autumn of this year, great and important 
 political changes were taking place in the Nether- 
 lands by the Emperor's order, particularly the sup- 
 pression of the greatest part of the religious and mon- 
 astic institutions, which was expected to cause the 
 sale of a great number of llubens's best paintings. 
 Many persons went over to examine them, and 
 amongst the rest Sir Joshua ; and he took both 
 Brussels and Antwerp in his route : but I do not 
 possess any specific knowledge of this trip, except 
 that he made some further excellent observations, 
 which are among the best of his criticisms, and highly 
 illustrative of the merits of Rubens, that prince of 
 Flemish painters. 
 
 Mr. Malone has preserved some of his observa- 
 tions at this period, and he says, that Sir Joshua on 
 his return from his first tour in 1781, thought that his 
 own vi^orks seemed to want force, but that on viewing 
 the paintings of Rubens a second time, they even ap- 
 peared much less brilliant than on a former inspec- 
 tion. This circumstance he was at first unable to ac- 
 count for, until he recollected, that when he first saw 
 them he had his note book in his hand, for the pur- 
 pose of writing down some remarks, which he con- 
 sidered as the reason of their now making a less vivid 
 impression in this respect than they had before done ; 
 for by the eye passing immediately from the white 
 paper to the picture, the colours derived uncommon 
 richness and warmth ; though for want of this foil they 
 afterwards appeared comparatively cold. 
 
 But, as he has also remarked, on his return the first 
 time, that his own pictures wanted force, and it was 
 observed that he painted with more depth and hril- 
 
 Kk
 
 ^14 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 lianry of colour afterwards, is it not more probable 
 tbat tbe difference of tbe impression be felt from tbe 
 sight of Rubens's pictures was owing to his having 
 accustomed his eye in the mean time to a greater force 
 and ricliness in his own works ? or, at any rate, this 
 must have assisted to increase the impression he felt. 
 
 Sir Joshua this year executed several admired 
 portraits ; but in the midst of his professional engage- 
 ments he still found leisure to attend to literary pur- 
 suits, and to subjoin some very elaborate notes, con- 
 sisting principally of practical observations and ex- 
 planations of the rules laid down, to that translation 
 of Du Fresnoy's Art of Painting by Mr. Mason, 
 which was published at this period. These notes are 
 in the third volume of his works, as published by 
 JSIr. Maloue. 
 
 It appears, indeed, if the world owe any thing to 
 Mr. Mason for this production, that they are also 
 partly indebted for it to Sir Joshua, as it had long 
 lain in manuscript unfinished, in Mr. Mason's library, 
 and was only at len2;th brought forward in conse- 
 quence of his having reijueste*! a sight of it, and then 
 freely made an offer of illustrating it in the manner he 
 has clone, w hich renders tiie work invaluable. 
 
 One professional anecdote which Sir Joshua men- 
 tions in these notes, of his own practice, deserves 
 notice here. 
 
 Speaking of Paul Veronese, Tintoret, and the 
 other painters of the Venetian School, he says, 
 '' When I was at Venice, the method I took to avail 
 myself of their principles was this: When 1 observed 
 an extraordinary effect of light and shade in any 
 picture, I took a leaf out of my pocket book, and 
 darkened every part of it in the same gradation of light 
 and shade as the picture, leaving the white paper 
 untouched, to represent the light, and this without 
 any attention to the subject, or to tlie drawing of the 
 figures. A few trials of this kind will be suflBcient to 
 give the method of their conduct in the management of 
 their lights. After a few experiments I found the
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g<|^ 
 
 paper blotted nearly alike; their general practice 
 appeared to be, to allow not above a quarter of the 
 picture for the light, including in this portion both 
 the principal and secondary lights ; another quarter to 
 be kept as dark as possible ; and the remaining half 
 kept in mezzotint, or half shadow. Rubens appears 
 to have admitted rather more light than a quarter, and 
 Rembrandt much less, scarce an eighth ; by this con- 
 duct Rembrandt^s light is extremely brilliant, but it 
 costs too much; the rest of the picture is sacrificed to 
 this one object. That ligiit will certainly appear the 
 brightest which is surrounded with the greatest quan- 
 tity of shade, supposing equal skill in the artist. 
 
 " By this means you may likewise remark the 
 various forms and shapes of those lights, as well as 
 the objects on which they are flung ; whether a figure, 
 or the sky, a white napkin, animals, or utensils, often 
 introduced for this purpose only. It may be observed, 
 likewise, what portion is strongly relieved, and how 
 much is united with its ground ; for it is necessary that 
 some part (though a small one is sufficient,) should be 
 sharp and cutting against its ground, whether it be 
 light on a dark, or dark on a light ground, in order 
 to give firmness and distinctness to the work ; if, on 
 the other hand, it is relieved on every side, it will 
 appear as if inlaid on its ground. 
 
 <^ Such a blotted paper, held at a distance from the, 
 eye, will strike the spectator as something excellent 
 for the disposition of light and shadow, thoVigh he 
 does not distinguish whether it is a history, a por- 
 trait, a landscape, dead game, or any thing else; for 
 the same principles extend to every branch of the art.*' 
 
 This recurrence to the Venetian painters brings to 
 my mind a little circumstance which happened at the 
 very time he here speaks of when in his youth study- 
 ing at Venice. Being one night at the opera, the 
 manager of the house ordered the band to ])lay an 
 English ballad tune as a compliment to the English 
 gentlemen then residing in tiiat city. This happened 
 to be the popular air which was played or sung in al-
 
 246 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 most every sfcreet in London just at their time of 
 leaving it; by suggesting to them that metropolis, with 
 all its connexions and endearing circumstances, it im- 
 mediately brought tears into our young painter's 
 eyes, as well as into those of his countrymen who 
 were present. 
 
 Thus nature will prevail, and Paul Veronese, 
 Tintoret, and even Titian, were all given up at the 
 moment, from the delightful prospect of again re- 
 turning to his native land after an absence of near 
 three years. 
 
 To return to the period of our narrative, it was said 
 in a contemporary character of him at this period, 
 that he had so little of the jealousy of his profession, 
 that when a celebrated English artist, on his arrival 
 from Italy, asked him where he should set up a house. 
 Sir Joshua told him that the next house to his own 
 was vacant, and that he had found his own situation a 
 very good one. 
 
 It is also recorded as an instance of his prizing ex- 
 traordinary merit, that when Gainsborough asked him 
 but sixty guineas for his celebrated girl and pigs, yet 
 being conscious in his own mind that it was worth 
 more, he liberally paid him down one hundred 
 guineas for the picture. 
 
 I also find it mentioned on record, that a painter of 
 considerable merit having unfortunately made an in- 
 judicious matrimonial choice, was, along with that 
 and its consequences, as well as an increasing family, 
 in a few years reduced so very low, that he could not 
 venture out without danger of being arrested, a cir- 
 cumstance which, ii) a great measure, put it out of his 
 power to dispose of his pictures to advantage. 
 
 Sir Joshua having accidentally heard of his situa- 
 tion, immediately hurried to his residence, to inquire 
 into the truth of it, when the unfortunate man told him 
 all the melancholy particulars of his lot, adding, that 
 forty pounds would enable him to compound with his 
 creditors. 
 
 ^■^
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 24,7 
 
 After some further couversatiou, Sir Joshua took 
 his leave, telling the distressed man he would do 
 something for him, and when he was bidding him 
 adieu at the door, he took him by the hand, and after 
 squeezing it in a friendly way, " hurried ofl'with that 
 kind of triumph in his heart, the exalted of human 
 kind only experience,'' whilst the astonished artist 
 found that he had left in his hand a bank note for one 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 Of such traits of benevolence certainly many other 
 instances might be recorded, but 1 shall only mention 
 two. 
 
 When Zoffanii the painter, came to England he 
 was but little known in this country, and without a 
 patron; but the very first picture which he exhibited 
 in London was pr.rchased by Sir Joshua at the price 
 which Zoffanii demanded for it. 
 
 The picture represents a scene in the farce of the 
 Alchymist, in which there is a most excellent portrait 
 of Garrick in the character of Able Drugger, accom- 
 panied by those of Palmer and Burton. This picture 
 Sir Joshua sold soon after to the Earl of Carlisle for 
 twenty guineas above the price which he had given 
 for it, and sent the advanced price immediately to 
 Zoffanii, saying, " he thought he had sold the picture 
 at first below its real value." 
 
 The clergyman who succeeded Sir Joshua's father 
 as master of the Grammar School at Plymplon, at his 
 decease left a widow, who after the death of her hus- 
 band opened a boarding school for the education of 
 young ladies. The governess who taught in this 
 school had but few friends in situations to enable them 
 to do her much service, and her sole dependence was 
 on her small stipend from the school : hence she was 
 unable to make a sufficiently reputable appearance in 
 apparel at their accustomed little balls. The daughter 
 of the school-mistress, her only child, and at that time 
 a very young girl, felt for the poor governess, and the 
 pitiable insufficiency in the article of finery, but being 
 unable to help her from her own resources devised
 
 S48 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 within herself a means by which it might be done 
 otherwise. 
 
 Having heard of the great fame of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, his character for generosity, and charity, and 
 recollecting that he had formerly belonged to the 
 Plympton school, she without mentioning a syllable 
 to any of her companions addressed a letter to Sir 
 Joshua, whom she had never even seen, in which she 
 represented to him the forlorn state of the poor gov- 
 erness's wardrobe, and begged the gift of a silk gown 
 for her. Very shortly after they received a box con- 
 taining silks of different patterns, sufficient for two 
 dresses, to the infinite astonishment of the simple 
 governess, who was totally unable to account for this 
 piece of good fortune, as tiie compassionate girl was 
 afraid to let her know the means she had taken in 
 order to procure the welcome present. 
 
 I mentioned the circumstance afterwards to Sir 
 Joshua who assured me of its truth. 
 
 In the year 178^'? Sir Joshua had a pre-eminence 
 of pictures, at the Exhibition, the principal of which 
 Avere the portrait of Mrs. Siddons, as the Tragic Muse, 
 now the property of William Smith, Esq. M. P., 
 from which a well known print has been taken ; this 
 picture Sir Joshua valued at 1000 guineas ; the For- 
 tune-teller, sold to the Duke of Dorset, and a portrait 
 of Miss Kemble. The last of these drew fortli great 
 applause from the numerous literary friends of that 
 lady. And the following poetic tribute to his skill, 
 may not be undeserving of insertion. 
 
 " While hands obscene, at vicious grandeur's call, 
 With mimic harlots clothe th' indignant wall, 
 Destructive snares for youthful passion spread, 
 The slacken'd bosom, and the faithless bed, 
 Thy pencil, Reijnolds 1 innocently gay, 
 To virtue leads by pleasure's flowery way; 
 In blushing honour decks the tim'rous bride. 
 Or maid whose thoughts confederate Angels guide j 
 For thy rare skill, to surface unconfin'd. 
 Through every genuine feature pours the mind.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 349 
 
 Should the wild rage of other Fhi-ynes compare 
 With Corinth's past the British drama's fair, 
 (Though art may Palmer's vanish'd foim deplore, 
 And Satchell's eyes unpictur'd beam no more) 
 If firm duration crowns thy just design, 
 Nor all its soft similitudes decline, 
 In Kemble's look chastis'd will yet be seen 
 What one bright daughter of the stage has been — 
 Reserv'd though mingling with the loud, the vain, 
 And unseduc'd where Syren pleasures reign. 
 Where dames undone and social ruin smile, 
 While echo'd scandal shakes a guilty pile. 
 Pleas'd we behold, by thy congenial hand, 
 In native charms euibodied virtue stand; 
 For vice can ne'er its odious traces hide. 
 The glance of lewdness, or the swell of pride. 
 Mark'd to be shunn'd, and stigmatis'd by fate, 
 Since in each varied guise, of scorn or hate. 
 O'er all the face its dire eftusions shoot. 
 As branches still are modell'd by the root. 
 But, for our love when grace and merit vie, 
 Attrack the decent, check the lawless eye, 
 Th' instructive canvas moral worth excites, 
 And Reynolds paints the lessons Johnson writes. 
 Should time, whose force our hopes in vain withstand, 
 Blast the nymph's face, and shake the painter's hand, 
 Yet may these tints divide the fame they give, 
 And art and beauty bid each other live !' 
 
 Another painting of Sir Joshua's was exhibited this 
 year by the Society for promoting Painting and De- 
 sign at Liverpool ; which was a landscape containing 
 a view on the Thames from his own villa on Rich- 
 mond-hill. This has been engraved by Birch in his 
 " Delices de la Grand Bretagne/' and was one of the 
 very few landscapes ever done by the subject of our 
 biography. 
 
 In regular landscape-painting his works are very 
 scarce ; there is, as I have been informed, one in the 
 possession of Sir Brook Boothby, Bart., another in 
 the collection of Lord Pelham at Stanmer, and two he 
 bequeathed to Sir George Baker, Bart. M. D. who 
 attended the family; these are of course with the ex-
 
 250 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ceptions of those chaste and exquisite ones which so 
 often form a hack gromul to liis portraits. 
 
 Soon after this, Sir Josliua interested himself most 
 strenuously for his friend Dr. Johnson, in order to 
 procure an additional grant from the crown as an in- 
 crease to his pension, in order to enahle him to try the 
 air of tlie South of France, and Italy, for his declining 
 health. Sir John Hawkins in his life of Johnson 
 gives all the credit to this negoeiation, at least of its 
 coramenceraent, to Sir Joshua, whilst Mr. Boswell 
 claims the merit of iiaving written the first letter on 
 the subject to Lord Thurlow, then Lord Chancellor. 
 
 The various details of the event have been so often 
 related by Johnson's biographers, that I need not 
 enter further on it tlian to say, that it met with Sir 
 Joshua's cordial concurrence and assistance from the 
 first, and was attended to by him with much assiduity 
 during the progress, from his earnest wish for the 
 welfare of his venerable friend. 
 
 On the death of Ramsay, the King's painter, in 
 August of this year, Sir Joshua was sworn principal 
 painter to his Majesty, to which a small salary is 
 also annexed; but this^ of course, was not the object 
 of Sir Joshua's ambition. 
 
 In tliis year Charles Catton, a Royal Academician, 
 was, by rotation, become master of the Painter 
 Stainers Company of the city of London, and he was 
 particularly ambitious of introducing his friend, and 
 a man so celebrated as Sir Joshua Reynolds, to share 
 in their corporate honours ; accordingly the brothers 
 voluntarily voted him the freedom of their company, 
 which was presented to him when he dined at their 
 hall on St. Luke's day, the patron saint of painters. 
 This favor, so properly and well bestowed, he re- 
 ceived with due respect. This crivic compliment was 
 accompanied by a copy of verses in honour of their 
 new brother citizen; in which the Muses were in- 
 voked to celebrate his praise and an event so im- 
 portant. — X compliment, on the whole, which pleased 
 Sir Joshua not a little.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g51 
 
 The lines may be found in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine for that year, page 854; they are not indifferent- 
 ly written ; a portion of taste is even displayed in some 
 of the passages, but it is very possible that their 
 dinner was still better than their poetry, and their 
 respect more gratifying than either. 
 
 Sir Joshua now met with an irreparable loss in the 
 demise of his friend, Dr. Samuel Johnson, who died 
 on the 13th of December, 1784*. 
 
 The particulars of this event have been so often 
 recorded, that it would be superfluous to detail them 
 here ; I may observe, however, that Mr. Boswell has 
 justly stated, that the Doctor made three requests of 
 Sir Joshua a short time previous to his death: one 
 was to forgive him thirty pounds which he had bor- 
 rowed of him ; another was, that Sir Joshua should 
 carefully read the Scriptures ; and the last, that he 
 should abstain from using his pencil on the sabbath 
 day: to all of which Sir Joshua gave a willing assent. 
 
 Johnson had appointed him one of the executors of 
 his will, along with Sir William Scott and Sir John 
 Hawkins ; a trust which he faithfully fulfilled; he also 
 left him his great French Dictionary, by Moreri, and 
 his own copy of his folio English Dictionary, of the 
 last revision, as a friendly testimony of remembrance; 
 also a book from his library to Mrs. Frances Rey- 
 nolds, sister to Sir Joshua. 
 
 What the feelings of Sir Joshua must have been 
 on this occasion may be easily conceived, and it has 
 been well described by Mr. Boswell in his dedication 
 of his " Life of Johnson," some time afterwards. 
 This dedication is at the same time so honourable to, 
 and descriptive of. Sir Joshua, in many respects, that 
 1 trust I sliall be excused for the insertion of part of 
 it in this place. 
 
 Mr. Boswell says, ^^ Every liberal motive that can 
 actuate an author in the dedication of his labours, 
 concurs in directing me to you, as the person to whom 
 the following work should be inscribed. If there be 
 a pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of a 
 \A
 
 ^252 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity 
 not allo2;etlier inexcusable, in appearing fully sensible 
 of it, where can I find one in complimenting whom I 
 ran with more general approbation gratify those feel- 
 ings? Your excellence, not only in the art over which 
 you have long presided with unrivalled f^ime, but also 
 in pliilosophy and elegant literature, is well known to 
 the present, and will continue to be the admiration of 
 future ages. Your equal and placid temper, your 
 variety of conversation, your true politeness, by which 
 you are so amiable in private society, and that en- 
 larged hospitality wliich has long made your house a 
 common centre of union for the great, the accomplish- 
 ed, the learned, and tiie ingenious; all these qualities 
 I can, in perfect contidence, of not being accused of 
 flattery, ascribe to you. If a man may indulge in an 
 iionest pride, in having it known to the world, that he 
 has been thought wortliy of particular attention by a 
 person of the first eminence in the age in which he 
 lives, whose company has been universally courted, I 
 am justified in availing myself of the usual privilege 
 of a dedication, when I mention that there has been a 
 long and uninterrupted friendship between us. If 
 gratitude should be acknowledged for favours re- 
 ceived, 1 have tliis opportunity, my dear Sir, most 
 sincerely to thank you for the many happy hours 
 ■which I owe to your kindness — for the cordiality 
 with which you have, at all times, been pleased to 
 welcome — for the number of valuable acquaintances 
 to whom you have introduced me — for the nodes 
 cocnceqne Jhiun which I have enjoyed under your 
 roof. If a work should be inscribed to one who is 
 master of the subject of it, and whose approbation, 
 therefore, must insure it credit and success, the Life 
 of Dr. Johnson is, with the greatest propriety, dedi- 
 cated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was the intimate 
 and beloved friend of that great man ; the friend whom 
 he declared to be the most invulnerable man he knew, 
 w ith whom, if he should quarrel, he should find the 
 most difficulty how to abuse. You, my dear Sir,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ' g^iS 
 
 studied him, and knew him well. You venerated and 
 admired him." 
 
 To this testimony of Boswell, it will certainly not 
 be misplaced to add some few other observations of 
 Johnson himself respecting his friend. 
 
 In one place, Boswell records that he much ad- 
 mired tiie manner in which Sir Joshua treated of his 
 art, in his discourses to the Royal Academy. Of one 
 remarkable passage, he said, " I think I might as 
 well have said this myself;" and on another occasion, 
 vv^hilst Mr. Bennet Langton was sitting with him, he 
 read one of them with great attention, and exclaimed, 
 " Very well, Master Reynolds ; very well indeed. 
 But it will not be understood." 
 
 Johnson once observed, '^ I know no man who has 
 passed through life with more observation than Rey, 
 nolds; and Boswell himself has very justly said, 
 *• that his philosophical penetration, and justness of 
 thinking were not less known to those who lived with 
 him, than his genius in his art is admired by the 
 world." 
 
 Johnson had so high an opinion of Sir Joshua's 
 benevolence of disposition, that he said to him once 
 with a smile. " Reynolds, you hate no person living. 
 But I like a good hater." 
 
 It seems by this speech that Johnson conceived 
 that a good hater, as he termed it, was one who would 
 feel the strongest degree of attachment to those who 
 were so fortunate as to gain their love, and also that it 
 might proceed probably from a mind that made strong 
 distinctions in character : but it is certainly a danger- 
 ous doctrine. 
 
 I remember, however, that I once heard Sir Joshua 
 say, that he thought it a very bad state of mind to 
 hate any man, but that he feared that he did hate 
 Barry, and if so, he had much excuse, if excuse be 
 possible. The hatred of sucli a man is no trifling dis- 
 grace ; still I am convinced that this sentiment never 
 influenced his conduct towards him.
 
 25^ MEMOIRS OF 
 
 I may now remark that they lie sitle-by-side iu 
 the grave. 
 
 Three clays before Johnson's decease, Sir Joshua 
 delivered his twelfth discourse at the Academy, which 
 was principally of professional import. He laid it 
 down as a truism that particular methods of study are 
 of little consequence, and that little of the art can be 
 taught. 
 
 The love of method, he considered as often arising 
 from a disposition to mental idleness, whilst at the 
 same time he acknowledged that -^ Pittori improvisa- 
 tori,'' as he terms tliem, are apt to be careless and 
 incorrect, and are very seldom either original or 
 striking; defects proceeding from their not paying the 
 proper attention to the works of Nature and the great 
 masters. 
 
 From some observations in the early part of this dis- 
 course, it seems as if its subject had been, in some 
 measure, pressed upon Sir Joshua, or rather perhaps 
 hinted to him ; for in taking a view of the " Method 
 of Study," he expressly said that all the necessary in- 
 formation had already been given in his former dis- 
 courses, and that any other would merely consist of 
 plausible but ostentatious amplification, and would 
 therefore be totally useless. On this point he made 
 an observation highly worthy of general notice in this 
 educating age. *^ Treatises on education, and Method 
 of Study have always appeared to me to have one 
 general fault. They proceed upon a false supposition 
 of life ; as if we possessed, not only a power over 
 events and circumstances, but had a greater power 
 over ourselves than I believe any of us will be found 
 to possess !" 
 
 Again he observed, '^ In the practice of art, as well 
 as in morals, it is necessary to keep a watchful and 
 jealous eye over ourselves: idleness, assuming the 
 specious disguise of industry, will lull to sleep 
 all suspicion of our want of an active exertion of 
 strength,"
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 255 
 
 Much interest was excited among the Dilletanti in 
 the course of this year, by a discovery Sir Joshua 
 made of an original painting of Milton, which he pur- 
 chased for one hundred guineas, from a picture dealer 
 who had obtained it from a common furniture broker, 
 who could not remember the time nor manner in which 
 he came by it. In this portrait tlie dress is black with 
 a band; the date 1653, and the painter's initials 
 (S. C.) are marked upon it. On the back of it was a 
 written memorandum, stating that this portrait had 
 belonged to Deborah Milton, who Avas her father's 
 amanuensis, and that at her death it was sold to Sir 
 William Davenant's family. It also stated that the 
 portrait was painted by Samuel Cooper, who was 
 painter to Oliver Cromwell, at the time when Milton 
 was Latin Secretary to the Protector, and that the 
 Poet and Painter were nearly of the same age, Milton 
 being born in 1608, and dying in 1674; and Cooper 
 being born in 1609, and dying in I67S; they being 
 companions and friends till death parted them. It was 
 also stated, that several encouragers and lovers of the 
 Fine Arts at that time wanted this picture, particular- 
 ly Lord Dorset, John Somers, Esq. Sir Robert How- 
 ard, Dryden, Atterbury, Dr. Aldrich, and Sir John 
 Den ham. 
 
 Mr. Warton, who notices this portrait particularly 
 in his edition of Milton says, that Lord Dorset was 
 probably the lucky man, as this seems to be tiie very 
 picture which Vertue wished Prior to seek lor in 
 Lord Dorset's collection ; but in another he adds, that 
 it must be owned that this miniature strongly resem- 
 bles Vandyke's picture of Selden in the Bodleian 
 Library at Oxford, it being highly probable that 
 Cooper should have executed a miniature of Selden 
 as a companion to the heads of other heroes of the 
 commonwealth. This inference, however, is equally 
 applicable to the supposition of its being Milton's ; 
 and Sir Joshua Reynolds himself said of it, " The 
 picture is admirably painted, and with such a charac- 
 ter of nature, that I am perfectly sure it was a striking
 
 2j6 memoirs of 
 
 likeness. I have now got a distant idea of the coun- 
 tenance of Milton, whicli cannot be got from any other 
 than that I have seen. It is perfectly preserved, 
 which shows that it has been shut up in some drawer; 
 if it had been exposed to the light, the colours would, 
 long before this, have vanished." 
 
 A doubt having been started some years afterwards 
 respecting the originality and authenticity of this 
 miniature, a letter was inserted in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine for 1791? in answer to one in a preceding 
 number, containing some strictures, and expressing 
 various doubts on the sul>ject. 
 
 To these tsrictures and doubts, the letter was a very 
 conclusive and argumentative reply; and as it is now 
 well known to have been the production of Sir 
 Joshua's pen, and is not inserted in his works, I 
 shall here give it a place. 
 
 *^ Mr. Urban, June i5. 
 
 " A correspondent in your last Magazine, p. 
 399, has made some strictures respecting the origin- 
 ality of the portrait of Milton, in the possession of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, on which I beg leave to make 
 some observations. That your readers may have a 
 distinct view of the question, I shall transcribe the 
 writing which is on the back of the picture. 
 
 " ' This picture belonged to Deborah Milton, who 
 was her father's amanuensis ; at her death it was sold 
 to Sir William Davenant's family : it was painted by 
 Mr. Samuel Cooper, who was painter to Oliver Crom- 
 well at the time Milton was Latin Secretary to the 
 Protector. The painter and Poet were near of the 
 same age, (Milton was born in 1608, and died in 
 16/4; Cooper was born in 1609, and died in 167^;) 
 and were companions and friends till death parted 
 them. Several encouragers and lovers of the fine arts 
 at that time wanted this picture, particularly Lord 
 Dorset, John Somers, Esq. Sir Robert Howard,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 2^7 
 
 Uryden, Atterbury, and Dr. Aldrich^ Sir John Uen- 
 liam.' 
 
 *• Your critic first observes, that Deborah Milton, 
 dying in 17^7? all those encouragers and lovers of tlie 
 fine arts here mentioned, were dead long before that 
 time. Secondly, he remarks, that the picture could 
 not belong to the Dorset family in 1720, which be- 
 longed to Deborah Milton in I727. He asks, like- 
 wise, what can be meant by the miniature having 
 been sold to the family of Sir William Davenant, as 
 the memorandum bears so late a date as 17^7? These 
 objections, I will suppose for the credit of the writer, 
 would not have been made if he had seen the prbit, 
 under which he would have found tlie following re- 
 mark : 
 
 " The manuscript on the back of the picture ap- 
 pears to have been written some time before the year 
 1693, when Mr. Somers was knighted, and after- 
 wards created Baron Evesham, wliicli brings it with- 
 in nineteen years after Milton's death. The writer 
 was mistaken in supposing Deborah Milton was dead 
 at that time; she lived till 17-7? but in indigence and 
 obscurity, married to a weaver in Spitalfields. 
 
 " There is no reason to think (notwithstanding Mr. 
 Warton's supposition, that Lord Dorset was probably 
 the lucky man who purchased the picture,) that it 
 ever was in Lord Dorset's possession. Vertue, indeed, 
 had desired Prior to search in his Lordship's collec- 
 tion for this miniature, probably from the suggestion 
 of Richardson, whose son Jonathan informed Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, that he had heard his father say, 
 that there was somewhere a miniature of Milton, by 
 Cooper, which, he was told, was a remarkable fine 
 picture, but that he himself had never seen it. Per- 
 haps Lord Dorset was thought likely to have been the 
 possessor of this picture, because he formed a large 
 collection of portraits of the most eminent men of his 
 time, which are still to be seen at Knowle. I cannot 
 avoid adding, that the present Duke, with equal respect 
 to genius and talents, and with still more skill in the
 
 238 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 art, continues this plan ; and to this collection of his an- 
 cestor has aildeil the portraits of Dr. Johnson, Dr. 
 Goldsmith, Mr. Garrick, and many others. — The 
 third oI)jection is easily answered : there is no date at 
 all to the memorandum ; and, so far from its bearing 
 so late a date as 17^7? it is very apparent it was 
 written before the year 1093, and that the writer of it 
 was probably Sir William Davenant's son, who was 
 at this time thirty-seven years old ; and the picture 
 may be supposed to be at that time wanted by Lord 
 Dorset, John Somers, Esq. &c. The critic says, ' I 
 never had an ojiportunity of seeing the original minia- 
 ture in question, and, unfortunately, the print by Miss 
 Watson has never fallen in my way ; but I sliould 
 wish to know whether the drop serene be visible in it, 
 as in Faithorue's drawing, and in the bust. The date 
 on the miniature is 165S, by which time Milton had 
 become utterly blind.' 
 
 "" In regard to the drop serene, we can assure your 
 correspondent that it is not visible in the miniature, 
 and that he is mistaken in saying that it is visible in 
 the crayon picture by Faithorne; and that it is visible 
 in the bust, as he affirms, is truly ridiculous. Milton 
 himself says, that, though he had lost his sight, it was 
 not perceptible to others ; and that his eyes preserved 
 their original lustre. 
 
 " The date on the picture is 1653, and not 165S. 
 This inaccuracy is of no great consequence : but how 
 did he know that there was any date at all, as he says 
 he never saw the picture ? 
 
 ^' That Deborah Milton recognized her father's 
 picture, does not prove that she might not have been 
 still more struck with the likeness of the miniature. 
 One is at a loss to know upon what ground it is 
 assumed (by a person who never saw the picture or 
 the print,) that, if Faithorne's be like, the miniature 
 is not like : and still less can it be conceived why ho 
 thinks th;it ' the likeness in Sir Joshua's picture can- 
 not be a striking likeness of Milton, whatever it may 
 be of Seklen.' How came Selden into his head? Here
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 259 
 
 some suspicion arises that he has seen the picture and 
 the print, a circumstance which he chooses to conceal, 
 as the comment hy Sir Joshua on the priut would have 
 prevented the parade of his criticism. 
 
 " The opinion of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in matters 
 relating to his own profession, certainly ought to have 
 some weight. He is not likely to be wanting in that 
 skill to which every other artist pretends, namely, to 
 form some judgment of the likeness of a picture with- 
 out knowing the original. It appears that Sir Joshua 
 told Warton, that he was perfectly sure that ^ the 
 picture in his possession was a striking likeness, and 
 that an idea of Milton's countenance cannot be got 
 from any of the other pictures.' Without being an 
 artist, it is easily perceived that the picture of Faithorne 
 does not possess that individuality of countenance 
 which is in the miniature. 
 
 " There is something very perverse in believing 
 that an ordinary, common-place portrait, painted by 
 an engraver for the purpose of making a print from it, 
 should be preferred, or be supposed to be more like, 
 than the best picture of the first miniature painter, 
 perhaps that ever lived. Cooper possessed all tiie 
 correctness, precision, and all the attention to peculi- 
 arity of expression, which we admire in Vandyke ; 
 "whereas Faithorne imitated, as well as he could, the 
 lax and vicious manner then introduced by Sir Peter 
 Lely, who, though upon the wiiole an ingenious artist, 
 stands in the first rank of what the painters csWman- 
 nerists. We may add, in regard to Faithorne, that, 
 however he might be distinguished among his con- 
 temporaries, and since by the curious in old prints, 
 bis merit as an engraver (and much less as a painter,} 
 were he now living, would not raise him above the 
 rank of the common herd of artists. It does not ap- 
 pear that Deborah Milton, when Faithorne's picture 
 was shewn to her, said any tiling to confirm us in the 
 opinion of its being so extremely like : she exclaimed, 
 ' O, Lord ! that is the picture of my father.' She 
 probably had seen the picture before, and it is even 
 II m
 
 £60 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 probable that she was present when it was painted; 
 and, when she saw it again, slie immediately re- 
 cognized it, as she would have done her fatlier's 
 watcl), buckles, or any other appendage to his person. 
 
 " There is no doubt but that Milton sat to Fait- 
 horne for that crayon picture ; the distinguishing 
 features are the same as in the miniature; the same 
 large eyelid, the same shaped nose and mouth, and 
 the same long line which reaches from the nostril to 
 below tlie corners of the mouth, and the same head of 
 hair; but if the effect and expression of the whole 
 together should be, as in fact it is, different in the two 
 pictures, it cannot, I should think, be difficult for us 
 to detl^mine on which side our faith ought to incline, 
 even though neither possessed any strong marks of 
 identity. 
 
 " All the objections that have been made by your 
 correspondent, I hope, have been answered, and 
 some, perhaps, which the reader will think were 
 scarcely worthy of an answer. There is no occasion 
 to take notice of objections which are tnade in order 
 to be confuted, namely, the pains the critic takes to 
 obviate a supposition which nobody ever supposed, 
 that the writer of the memorandum on the back might, 
 by mistake, write her death instead of his death. 
 This is to raise conjectures in order to triumph in 
 their confutation ! 
 
 " Mr. Tyrwhitt, to whom the miniature was shewn 
 at the Archbishop of York's table, and whose skill in 
 matters of this kind is universally acknowledged, 
 scouted the question which was there put to him, 
 * Whether he thought the manuscript was a late fabri- 
 cation?' ^ The orthography, as well as the colour of the 
 ink, shews it to have been written about a hundred 
 years since.' He then remarked the mistake of the 
 writer in supposing that Deborah Milton was dead at 
 the time he wrote; and, though your correspondent 
 thinks that this mistake is a sufficient reason for 
 calling the whole a palpable fiction, we may reasona- 
 bly oppose Mr. Tyrwhitt's opinion to that of your
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 261 
 
 anonymous correspondent, of whom we may say, if 
 he had possessed a greater share of critical sagacity, 
 he would have remarked, that even the mistake of 
 supposing Deborah Milton to be dead when he wrote, 
 shews it to be not what he calls it, a fiction. A man 
 who deals in fiction takes care, at least, not to be easily 
 detected. No man in these later days but knows that 
 Deborah Milton lived till 17^7? as that circumstance 
 was made notorious to the world from Richardson's 
 Life of Milton, and from the benefit play which was 
 given to Deborah's daughter in the year 1752. I be- 
 lieve Richardson (who, as Dr. Johnson says, was one 
 of Milton's fondest admirers,) was the first who made 
 any inquiry after Milton's family, and found his 
 daughter Deborah to be still living. 
 
 ^' I cannot conclude without making one observa- 
 tion. Before a writer indulges himself in the self-con- 
 gratulation of victory, or laughing at the slip wjjich he 
 fancies others have made, he should be sure of tlje 
 steadiness of his own footing. 
 
 " Your correspondent reprehends Tom Warton for 
 his inaccuracy in historical points ; he blames the ag- 
 gravated immorality of the seller of the picture ' in 
 imposing on so fair and worthy a man as Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds ;' treating him as a bon homme, and the 
 whole ^ as a palpable fiction, drawn up by some per- 
 son ignorant of history, who furnished out a tale with 
 very scanty materials.' Whether this was the case, 
 the reader will, I imagine, not find it very difficult to 
 determine. R, J. 
 
 " P. S. The progress of the picture seems to be 
 this:- — Milton dying insolvent, and Deborah Milton 
 of course in great indigence, it is very improbable that 
 she would keep to herself a picture of such value ; it 
 was therefore sold, as we suppose, to the author of the 
 memorandum ; and the account there given is proba- 
 bly such as he received from the seller of the picture, 
 who, in order to raise its value, boasts how many 
 great men had desired to have it. If to this it is urged,
 
 202 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 that it is too much to expect all those suppositions 
 will be granted, we can only say, let tlie supposition 
 be made of its being a forgery, and then see what in- 
 surmouutable improbal)ilities will immediately present 
 themselves. After all, the whole indulgence required 
 is for the mistake respecting Deborah Milton's death ; 
 and we may add, that the great object of inquiry, that 
 it is an original picture of Milton by Cooper, is no 
 Avay aifected either by this or any other mistake that 
 may be imputed to the writer of the memorandum." 
 
 In this year the portrait of Sir Joshua, which was 
 painted for, and afterwards in the possession of, Mr. 
 Alderman Boydell, was executed by Mr. C. G. 
 Stuart, an American, and for a time was placed in 
 the Shakspeare Gallery : this is one of many which 
 have been done, but it has not been engraved. 
 
 The year 1785 was marked by several compliments 
 to Sir Joshua's taste and genius. 
 
 Miss Hannah JMore, in her Poem on Sensibility, 
 says, 
 
 «' To snatch bright beauty from devouring fate, 
 And bid it boast with him a deathless date; 
 To shew how genius fires, how taste restrains, 
 While what both are, his pencil best explains, 
 Have we not Reynolds ?" 
 
 To the merit of one of Sir Joshua's finest pictures 
 produced this year, and exhibited, " Love unloosing 
 the Zone of Beauty," the following poetic tribute was 
 also paid. 
 
 " Fann'd by the summer's gentlest wind, 
 Within the shade a nymph reclin'd. 
 As on her neck they artless stray'd. 
 The zephyrs with her tresses play'd; 
 A careless vest around her thrown 
 Was girded with an azure zone; 
 Her figure shone replete with grace — 
 She seem'd — the goddess of the place. 
 The soothing murmur of the rill, 
 The plumed warbler's tenderest trill,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 263 
 
 The perfum'd air, the flow'ry ground, 
 Spread a delicious languor round j 
 Her swelling breast new tremors move, 
 And all her melting soul was love. 
 When Cupid saw her soft alarms, 
 And flew, insidious, to her arms ; 
 The little god she warmly prest, 
 And ruin, in his form, carest ; 
 For by indulgence hardy grown, 
 He slily loos'd her guardian zone. 
 But Virtue saw the sleight, and sigh'd — 
 
 * Beware, beware, fond nymph!' she cry'd; 
 ' Behold where yonder thorny flow'r, 
 
 ' Smiling in summer's radiant hour, 
 ' With outstretch 'd wing a painted fly, 
 ' In thoughtless pleasure flutters nigh, 
 
 * Nor, heedless, sees, beneath the brake, 
 ' The jaws of a devouring snake.' 
 
 The nymph look'd up — with conscience fiush'd, 
 
 And as she tied her zone, she blush'd. 
 
 It chanc'd that Genius, passing by. 
 
 Remark 'd the scene with eager eye : 
 
 Then, with the tint from Virtue stole, 
 
 With Reynolds' pencil sketch'd the whole." 
 
 Itt the autumn of this year, the great and long ex- 
 pected sale of pictures, collected from the dissolved 
 monasteries and religious houses in Flanders and 
 Germany commenced on the twelfth of September, and 
 continued during the ensuing month. 
 
 A trip to Flanders, therefore, became quite fashion- 
 able amongst the lovers of the fine arts, who were all 
 anxious to possess some of the exquisite specimens of 
 the great Flemish masters. For this purpose Sir 
 Joshua also made a tour to that country, and laid out 
 upwards of one thousand pounds in purchases, many 
 of which were of great value, and which I shall have 
 occasion to notice further in a subsequent part of the 
 Memoir. 
 
 In the Exhibition of 1786, Sir Joshua did not pro- 
 duce any historical piece, nor even any composition of 
 fancy, his time and thoughts being occupied on a 
 great work, having had the honour of a commission 
 from the Empress of Russia to paint an historical
 
 264) MEiMOIRS OF 
 
 picture, in which he was at liberty as to subject, size, 
 and price. 
 
 He debated long with himself on what subject to 
 fix, which might be complimentary to the Empress ; 
 and at first 1 heard him say he would paint the pro- 
 cession of our great Queen Elizabeth, when she visit- 
 ed her camp at Tilbury, in the time of the threatened 
 Spanish invasion ; but at last he made choice of the 
 infant Hercules overcoming the serpents when in his 
 cradle, as the most fit, in allusion to the great diflB- 
 culties which the Empress of Russia had to encounter 
 in the civilization of her empire, arising from the rude 
 state in which she found it. This picture he finished. 
 It was a large and grand composition ; and in respect 
 to beauty, colour, and effect, was equal to any picture 
 known in the world. The middle groupe, which re- 
 ceived the principal light, was exquisite in the highest 
 degree. 
 
 The following lines on this picture are an extract 
 from a Piudarick Ode, by John Taylor, Esq. a man 
 whose benevolence of heart, in addition to his genius, 
 renders him valuable to those who have the advantage 
 of knowing him. 
 
 Reynolds, thy pencil fix'd my wand'ring view, 
 Supreme in genius — worthy all thy fame; 
 
 Thy magic touch to taste and nature true, 
 Secures for immortality a name. 
 
 Aye — here's tlie vig'rous son of am'rous Jove, 
 Fruit of sly transports with Amphytrion's wife, 
 
 Whose cradled strength with twining monsters strove, 
 And crush'd out, giant-like, the venom'd life. 
 
 Ah ! Reynolds, why should portrait thee confine, 
 Whose stroke can epic force at once impart, 
 
 Whose canvas with Homeric fire can shine 
 And blaze with all the true sublime of art. 
 
 I have undersood that Sir Joshua told a friend that 
 the attitude and expression of the Prophet Tiresias, 
 introduced in the groupe, were taken from those in
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 265 
 
 which he had occasionally seen his deceased friend 
 Johnson. It may be so, for his eye and mind were 
 always intent to seize and fix the passing truth; and 
 perhaps the truest criticism that ever Dr. Beattie 
 hazarded on Sir Joshua's works was with regard to 
 this very picture, when he said, in a letter to Sir 
 William Forbes, " Your account of Sir Joshua's new 
 picture is very entertaining. It is an unpromising 
 subject; but Sir Joshua's imagination will supply 
 every thing." 
 
 When it was finished, and had been exhibited at 
 Somerset House, it was sent to Russia to the Em- 
 press. 
 
 Whether this compliment was ever explained to 
 her, or whether she was left to suppose it alluded to 
 the fate of her husband, I do not know; however, 
 soon after the picture arrived at St. Petersburg, 
 Count Woronzow, the Russian Embassador at the 
 court of England, waited on Sir Joshua Reynolds to 
 inform him that the picture he painted last year for 
 the Empress of Russia had been received at St. 
 Petersburg, with two sets of his Discourses, one in 
 English, and the other in French, which, at the desire 
 of her Imperial Majesty, had been sent with the pic- 
 ture. 
 
 At the same time. Count Woronzow delivered to 
 Sir Joshua a gold box, enriched with the Empress's 
 portrait, and very large diamonds, &c. containing a 
 most gracious writing by her Imperial Majesty's own 
 hand. The Embassador left also with Sir Joshua 
 a copy of the following letter, which his Excellency 
 had received from the Empress with the said present : 
 
 " Monsieur Le Comte Woronzow, 
 
 " I have read, and, I may say, with the greatest 
 avidity, those Discourses pronounced at the Royal 
 Academy of London, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which 
 that illustrious artist sent me with his large picture ; 
 in both productions one may easily trace a most ele- 
 vated genius.
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 '' I recommeiul to you to give my thanks to Sir 
 Joshua, and to remit him the box I send, as a testi- 
 mony of the great satisfaction the perusal of his Dis- 
 courses has given me, and which 1 look upon as, per- 
 haps, the best work that ever was wrote on the sub- 
 
 " My portrait, wliich is on the cover of the box, is 
 of a composition made at my Hermitage, where they 
 are now at work about impressions on the stones 
 found there. 
 
 '^ 1 expect you will inform me of the price of the 
 large picture, on the subject of which I have already 
 spoke to you in another letter. 
 
 " Adieu — I wish you well. 
 
 (Signed) " Catharine." 
 St, Peter shurghj March 5, 1790. 
 
 The portrait mentioned in the imperial letter, was 
 a basso relievo of her Majesty': and Sir Joshua's 
 executors afterwards received fifteen hundred guineas 
 for the painting, which is now at St. Petersburgh. 
 An engraving in mezzotinto was taken from it before 
 it left England; and another print from it was done in 
 Russia, by an English artist, patronized by that court. 
 
 I have already noticed the verifying of the authen- 
 ticity of Milton's picture by Sir Joshua, to which I 
 may add a discovery nearly similar, which has been 
 stated by an anonymous writer, who says, tliat in this 
 year he was so fortunate as also to meet with a 
 valuable head of Oliver Cromwell which had long 
 remained concealed from the prying eye of antiquarian 
 research in the false bottom of a gold snuif-box; and 
 which was ascertained to be the original head painted 
 by Cooper, for the use of Simons the sculptor, who 
 was then engaged in modelling a resemblance of the 
 Protector. It was particularly valuable in being the 
 only picture which Cooper finished of the Protector 
 Oliver; for though the artist had prevailed upon 
 Cromwell to sit a second time, yet, some diifference or
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 2Q7 
 
 dispute having taken place, this latter was never com- 
 pleted, but is in that state now, in the possession of 
 Sir Thomas Frankland, a descendant from that ex- 
 traordinary man. 
 
 It was said that the picture had been shewn to his 
 Majesty; and upon that occasion it was smartly ob- 
 served, " How much would Charles tlie First have 
 valued that man who had brought him the head of 
 Cromwell?" 
 
 In his thirteenth discourse, delivered this year, Sir 
 Joshua's object was to shew, in illustration and ex- 
 planation of his theory of genius, that art is not mere- 
 ly imitation, but must be considered as under the 
 direction of the imagination ; after which he pointed 
 out how far, and in what manner, painting, poetry, 
 acting, even architecture and gardening, depart, or 
 differ, from nature. 
 
 Here he laid down what he esteemed as the high- 
 est style of criticism, and, at tlie same time, the 
 soundest, in referring solely to the eternal and immu- 
 table nature of things ; and this was, that any specific 
 art, together with its principles, should be considered 
 in their correspondence with the principles of other 
 arts, or at least of such as address themselves primari- 
 ly and principally to the imagination. '' When those 
 connected and kindred principles,'' said he, " are 
 brought together to be compared, another comparison 
 will grow out of this; that is, the comparison of them 
 all with those of human nature, from wlience arts 
 derive the materials upon which they are to produce 
 their effects. When this comparison of art with art, 
 and of all arts with the nature of man, is once made 
 with success, our guiding lines are as well ascertained 
 and establislied as they can be in matters of this 
 description." 
 
 Some other truths, inculcated in this discourse, are 
 of such high importance in general life that I trust I 
 shall be excused for giving a sketch of them ; whilst, 
 at the same time, they will display that deep thouglit 
 which places Sir Joshua on a level, as a moralist, 
 
 N n
 
 '^m MEMOIRS OF 
 
 with tlie greatest philosophers; truths, too, uot con- 
 ceived ill the silence of the closet, but extracted from 
 human nature itself, in its various modilitations, as 
 they passed under his eye, or presented themselves in 
 his daily intercourse with the ornaments of society. 
 
 lie particularly noticed, that there is, in the com- 
 merce of life, as in art, a sagacity which is far from 
 being contrary to right reason, and is superior to any 
 occasional exercise of that faculty, which supersedes 
 it, and does not wait for tlie slow progress of deduc- 
 tion, but goes at once, by what appears a kind of 
 intuition, to the conclusion. A man, said he, endowed 
 with this faculty, feels and acknowledges the truth, 
 though it is not always in his power, perhaps, to give 
 a reason for it: because he cannot recollect, and bring 
 before him, all the materials that gave birth to his 
 opinion ; for very many, and very intricate considera- 
 tions may unite to form the principle, even of small 
 and minute parts, involved in, or dependent on, a 
 great system of things: though these, in process of 
 time, are forgotten, the right impression still remains 
 on the mind. 
 
 This impression, then, collected, we do not always 
 know how, or when, he considered as the result of the 
 accumulated experience of our life ; and, therefore, 
 this mass of collective observation, however ac- 
 quired, ought to prevail over that reason which, 
 however powerfully exerted on any particular oc- 
 casion, will probably comprehend but a partial xiavr 
 of the subject. He, therefore, laid it down as a prin- 
 ciple, that our conduct in life, as well as in the arts, 
 is, or ought to be, generally governed by this habitual 
 reason. It is our happiness, he added, that we are 
 enabled to draw on such funds; if we were obliged to 
 enter into a theoretical deliberation on every occasion, 
 before we act, life would be at a stand, and art would 
 be impracticable. 
 
 Speaking of " Imitation," he said that it is the 
 lowest htyle only of arts, whether of painting, poetry, 
 or music, that may be said, in the vulgar sensep to be
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 269 
 
 naturally pleasing. " The higher eflForts of those arts, 
 we know by experience, do not ait'ect minds wholly 
 uncultivated. This refined taste is the consequence of 
 education and habit; we are born only with a capaci- 
 ty of entertaining this refinement, as we are born with 
 a disposition to receive and obey all the rules and reg- 
 ulations of society ; and so far it may be said to be 
 natural to us, and no further." 
 
 His reasonings on the propriety of acting, and on 
 the pleasures derived from it, are highly worthy tlie 
 attention both of performers and audience ; but they 
 are too long even to give a slight sketch of them in 
 this place: I shall therefore merely add his own con- 
 clusion to this discourse; when he says, th^at '^ it is 
 allowed on all hands, that facts and events, however 
 they may bind the Historian, have no dominion over 
 the Poet or the Painter. With us. History is made to 
 bend and conform to this great idea of art. And why? 
 Because these arts, in their highest province, arc not 
 addressed to the gross senses ; but to the desires of the 
 mind, to that spark of divinity which we have within, 
 impatient of being circumscribed and pent up by the 
 world about us. Just so much as our art has of this, 
 just so much of dignity, I had almost said of divinity, 
 it exhibits ; and those of our artists who possessed this 
 mark of distinction in the highest degree, acquired 
 from thence the glorious appellation of ])ivine P^ 
 
 When Alderman Boydell projected the scheme of 
 his magnificent edition of the plays of Shakspeare, ac- 
 companied with large prints from pictures to be exe< 
 cuted by English painters, it was deemed to be abso- 
 lutely necessary that something of Sir Joshua's paint- 
 ing sliould be procured to grace the collection ; but, un- 
 expectedly Sir Joshua appeared to be rather shy in the 
 business, as if he thought it degrading himself to paint 
 for a print-seller, and he would not at first consent to 
 be employed in the work. George Stevens, the Editor 
 of Shakspeare, now undertook to persuade him to 
 comply, and taking a bank bill of five hundred pounds 
 in his hand^ he had an intervievr with Sir Joshua,
 
 ^70 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 ■when using all his eloquence in argument, he in the 
 mean time slipt the bank, bill into his hand; he then 
 soon found that his mode of reasoning was not to be 
 resisted, and a picture was promised. 
 
 8ir Joshua now commenced his studies, and no less 
 than three paintings were exhibited at the Shakspeare 
 Gallery, or at least taken from that poet, the only 
 ones, as has been very correctly said, which Sir 
 Joshua ever executed for his illustration, with the 
 exception of a head of King Lear, (done indeed in 
 478r3) and now in the possession of the Marchioness 
 of Thomond, and a portrait of the Honourable Mrs. 
 Tollemache in the character of Miranda, in the 
 " Tempest,'' in which Prosjjero and Caliban are in- 
 troduced. 
 
 One of these paintings for the Gallery was Puck, 
 or Robin Goodfellow, as it has been called, which in 
 point of expression and animation is unparalleled and 
 one of the happiest efforts of Sir Joshua's pencil, 
 though it has been said, by some cold critics, not to 
 "be perfectly characteristic of the merry wanderer of 
 Shakspeare. It is now the property of Samuel 
 Rogers, Esq. Macbeth, with the Witches and the 
 Cauldron, was another, and for this Mr. Boydell paid 
 him one thousand guineas; but who is now the pos- 
 sessor of it I know not. 
 
 The third was Cardinal Beaufort, for which 500 
 guineas were paid ; now tlie property of the Earl of 
 Egremont. Of this latter picture an artist of great 
 genius always declared that it united the local colour- 
 ing of Titian with the Chiaro scuro of Rembrandt : 
 this is a just criticism ; and another critic has observed 
 ^^ this picture of the dying Beaufort is truly an im- 
 pressive performance; the general hue of the picture 
 is consonant to Shakspeare's awful scene — sober — 
 grand — solemn. — The excruciating agony of guilt 
 and fear that writhes each limb, and fastens his con- 
 vulsive fingers on the bed clothes, makes each spec- 
 tator shudder — and the face of the dying Cardinal
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. §71 
 
 has that agonized and horrid grin described by 
 the poet. 
 
 " See how the pangs of death do make him grin.*' 
 
 This last is common newspaper criticism of which 
 much was poured forth at the time ; for this picture 
 when exhibited excited great attention, and gave rise 
 to much critical controversy : and with respect to the 
 demon at the pillow of the dying Cardinal, there have 
 been many objections made; nay Sir Joshua was 
 most earnestly importuned to erase it, but knew better 
 than to comply. These objections require to be corn- 
 batted in vindication of the illustrious author of the 
 work, as he did not seem inclined to do it for himself, 
 although he could have so amply refuted them. 
 
 It must be allowed that the lirst business of an his- 
 torical painter is to make his picture tell its story dis- 
 tinctly, clearly, and quickly; or else he can claim but 
 little merit to himself above that which belongs to the 
 mechanical part, the mere operation of his hand. 
 
 The peculiar and characteristic essence of this sub- 
 ject, the death of the wicked Cardinal Beaufort, is that 
 the dying man's agonies do not proceed from bodily 
 pain, so much as from the horrors of a guilty con- 
 science. Tills is a distinction in expression, of so nice 
 . a kind in respect to its being pourtrayed, that perhaps 
 Raffaelle himself would have found it difficult to exe- 
 cute it : yet this important article of information must 
 of necessity be decidedly and distinctly pronounced, 
 or the subject is not explained. Even Shakspeare 
 himself in his text has thought it requisite to employ 
 Ins imagery in order to make his intentions more sure- 
 ly to be understood, by making the King say, 
 
 " Oh thou eternal mover of the Heavens, 
 Look with a gentle Eye upon this wretch ! 
 Oh heat axvay the busy meddlinj^ ji^nd 
 That lays strong siege unto this wretch'' s souly 
 And from his bosom purge this black despair."
 
 272 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 How much more necessary then is it to the painter, 
 whose powers in this respect are so much more limited 
 by not being able to explaiu those circumstances 
 which are past ? 
 
 However, we have a right to conclude that Sir 
 Joshua was doubtful of the power in himself, and 
 perhaps of the power in the art also, to compass the 
 difficulty of explicitly and distinctly giving the just 
 and clear expression of guilt, in contradistinction to 
 bodily pain : which was absolutely necessary to ex- 
 plaiu the story ; an explanation which, if not quickly 
 given, is not well given, for the essence of painting is 
 to produce and efl'ect an instantaneous impression on 
 the spectator : the introduction of the demon therefore 
 does this, and leads the mind to further inquiry, and 
 to investigate the more hidden excellencies of the 
 w ork, and prevents the possibility even for a moment, 
 of mistaking it for the representation of a man dying 
 in a mere painful bodily disease. 
 
 The late Mr. Opie in his lectures has touched upon 
 this same subject, and it is with much gratification that 
 I give the opinion of tiiis most able critic, as it is so 
 consistent with my own. 
 
 " The varied heauties of this work, he says, might 
 well employ a great part of a lecture, but, at present, 
 1 shall pass them over, and attend only to what relates 
 immediately to the question before us, the elfect of the 
 visionary devil, couched close, and listening eagerly 
 behind the pillow of the dying wretch ; which not 
 only invigorates and clothes the subject in its appro- 
 priate interest and terror, but immediately clears up 
 all ambiguity, by informing us that those are not 
 bodily suiferings which we behold so forcibly de- 
 lineated ; that they are not merely the pangs of death 
 which make him grin; but that his agony proceeds 
 from those dangers of the mind, the overwhelming 
 horrors of a guilty and awakened conscience. This 
 was the point, on which rested the whole moral effect 
 of the piece; it was absolutely necessary to be under- 
 stood, and could by no other means have been so
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. g-^S 
 
 strongly and perspicuously expressed. An expe- 
 dient, therefore, at once necessary, so consistent 
 with the spirit of the subject, and so completely suc- 
 cessful, far from being regarded as an unwarrantable 
 license, is justifiable by all rules of sound criticism, 
 and ought to be regarded as one of the most signal 
 examples of invention in the artist. 
 
 Whoever paints to the mind will eventually suc- 
 ceed ; and no one must be discouraged in the pur- 
 suit, because he meets with contradictory opinions as 
 to the first and most alluring objects in his picture; as 
 most persons, especially the uneducated, see different- 
 ly : and to obey the capricious and unsettled humours 
 of each, would be to sacrifice every thing that is just 
 and noble in the art. An artist should calmly hear 
 the opinions of all ; but reserve it for the adoption of 
 Lis future thought, how far he will or will not alter 
 his design; — and he can scarcely hesitate too much, 
 as the first thoughts are, generally spealdng, more 
 vigorous than those conceived and born after the 
 imagination and this judgment has been forced into 
 action, and generated in obedience to the wishes of a 
 cold observer. 
 
 It was proposed that Sir Joshua should also have 
 executed the closet scene in Hamlet ; but I believe it 
 was never even begun. 
 
 I know it was not his desire to paint any circum- 
 stance in history of a complicated nature, his expres- 
 sion to me on that subject was, " That it cost him too 
 dear.'' His great pleasure was in those works of 
 fancy in which might be shown beauty, expression of 
 character, in a single figure, or at most not more than 
 two, and in those when of his own choice, he was 
 unrivalled by either ancient or modern artists. 
 
 How far it had ever been Sir Joshua's intention to 
 paint out a scene of tiie play of Hamlet, I do not 
 know, but I remember just about that time, he repeat- 
 ed to me an observation of a great man on tiiat very
 
 274 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The illusUious Charles Fox. conversing once with 
 Sir Joshua lleynolds on the merits and demerits of 
 Sliakspeare, said it was his opinion that Shakspeare's 
 credit w,ould have stood higher if he iiad never written 
 the play of Hamlet. 
 
 This anecdote was told me by Sir Josaiia himself. 
 
 I must confess that my own opinion differs very 
 much from this high authority. It seems to me that 
 if there is one play of Shakspeare's whicii denotes 
 genius above the others, it is that of Hamlet. 
 
 Such an infinite and subtile discrimination of char- 
 acter, such feeling is displayed in it; it is rendered so 
 exquisitely interesting, yet without the lielp of a regu- 
 lar plot, almost without a plan ; so like in its simplici- 
 city to the progress of nature itself, that it appears to 
 be an entire effusion of pure genius alone. 
 
 Besides those historical scenes from Shakspearc 
 which Sir Joshua executed for that truest and greatest 
 encourager of English Art, that England ever saw, 
 tlie late Alderman Boydell, that gentleman, who 
 reverenced merit of every kind wherever he found it, 
 also employed Sir .Toshua's pencil, as the greatest 
 painter, to pourtray for him the greatest hero of his 
 day, the late Lord Heathiield, of Gibraltar; and this 
 exquisite portrait, when finished, was exhibited in his 
 gallery in Pall Mall. I cannot refrain recording a 
 little anecdote as related by the general, at the time 
 the painter was employed on the picture, whom he 
 frequently diverted by some curious narrative, or 
 amused by some droll anecdotes ; one in partic- 
 ular, of a very rich Jew who resided in Prussia at 
 the time of Frederick the Great, and was in high 
 favour with his Majesty, and a very useful person to 
 him. Certain apprehensions arising, however, in the 
 Jew's mind, that a very wealthy subject was not in 
 the most safe situation, while under an arbitrary 
 Sovereign, he resolved within himself to get out of 
 the Prussian dominions, together with his property, as 
 soon as he could accomplish it. But this he saw was 
 not possible to be done till he had procured the King's
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 375 
 
 consent* He therefore in the humblest anil most 
 cunning manner wrote to Frederick to obtain his per- 
 mission, alledging that both his health and affairs 
 required his departure. But the more crafty King, 
 who probably saw through his design, returned this 
 short but affectionate answer, 
 
 " My Dear Mordecai, 
 
 " Nothing but death shall part us. 
 
 " Frederick.^' 
 
 The good offices of Sir Joshua through life were 
 not confined to his intimate friends, but were often ex- 
 tended, parlicularly to professional men ; one of whom 
 in a great measure owed his success in the art to his 
 advice, and to his recommendation of him, in this 
 year, to the late Duke of Rutland, then setting out on 
 his appointment to the Vice. Royalty of Ireland. 
 
 The person I allude to was a Mr. Pack, a native 
 of Norwich, and who, from a fondness for the art, had 
 copied many of Sir Joshua's paintings with great 
 accuracy, having been strongly recommended to him 
 by a friend. Some time after this, Mr. Pack, who 
 was a mercantile man, suffered considerably by his 
 American connections, and found it expedient to seek 
 for support from that which he had practised before 
 only as an amusement; and he was so successful in 
 liis Irish trip as to be tempted to risk his fate in 
 London, where he afterwards practised with some 
 little degree of fame. 
 
 This liberality of conduct, indeed, Sir Joshua 
 practised frequently; and always candidly bestowed 
 praise on his contemporaries, where due. 
 
 Of Gainsborough, he said, that he could copy Van- 
 dyke so exquisitely, that at a certain distance he could, 
 not distinguish the copy from the original, or the 
 difference between them. 
 
 His manner he considered as peculiarly his own, 
 and as one producing great effect and force j and one 
 
 o
 
 ;270 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 flay whilst examining a picture of his with consider- 
 ahle attention, he at U'ngth exclaimed, *• I cannot 
 make out how he produces his efiect!" 
 
 Sir Joshua, at the solicitation of Gainshorough, sat 
 one morning to ijim for iiis portrait, hut being taken 
 ill soon after this first sitting, he was obliged to go to 
 Bath for the recovery of his health, and, at his return, 
 sent to Gainsborough to inform him, that he was 
 ready to attend at any time he would appoint, in oriler 
 to have the picture finished ; but Gainsborough never 
 resumed the work, and therefore it was never com- 
 pleted : why he declined it is not known; probably 
 because Sir Joshua had made no offer to return the 
 compliment by engaging to paint the portrait of Gains- 
 borough. But Sir Joshua never had such an inten- 
 tion, which 1 heard him declare. 
 
 No further intercourse took place between these 
 two artists until Gainsborough was on his death-bed, 
 when his better feelings overcame his capriciousness, 
 and he sent for Sir Joshua to thank him for the lib- 
 eral manner in which he had always spoken of him 
 in public and in private conversation. 
 
 Sir Joshua, indeed, had jjroved his opinion of his 
 talents, by paying one hundred guineas for his well 
 known picture of the " Girl attending Pigs.^' 
 
 Nothing can be more strongly expressive of Gains- 
 borough's acknowledged goodness of heart, and of his 
 ardent love for the profession, than the exclama- 
 tion uttered whilst expiring — " We are all going to 
 Heaven, and Vandyke is of the party!'' 
 
 He was interred, on the 9th of August, in Kew 
 Church-yard, with his name alone cut on his tomb- 
 stone ; Sir Joshua being one of the pall-bearers, to- 
 gether with Sir William Chambers, Mr. West the 
 present President, Mr. Meyers, and Messrs. T. 
 Cotes, Sandby, and Bartolozzi. The ceremony was 
 also attended by several other gentlemen eminent for 
 abilities, particularly Mr. Sheridan, &c. 
 
 On pronouncing this eulogium, which took place
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 srr 
 
 this year at the usual delivery of the Discourse, Sir 
 Joshua's praises were just, instructive, and eloquent. 
 The purport ofthewliolc discourse, indeed, turned 
 upou Grainsborough's character, together with his ex- 
 cellencies and defects ; aud amongst otlier reasons for 
 adopting this subject, he observed, that when we 
 draw our examples from remote and revered antiquity, 
 with some advantage undoubtedly in the selection, we 
 expose ourselves to some inconvenieucies, being, per- 
 haps, led away too much by great names, and Loo 
 much subdued by overbearing authority. lie con- 
 sidered it, therefore, to be sometimes of service, tiiat 
 our examples should be near us; and be such as raise 
 a reverence sufficient to induce us carefully to observe 
 them, yet not so great as to prevent us from engaging 
 with them in something like a generous contention. 
 
 With great justness Sir Joshua declared his 
 opinion, that if ever this nation should produce geniu?. 
 sufficient to acquire for us the honorable distinction of 
 an English School, then the name of Gainsborough 
 will be transmitted to posterity, in the liistory of tlie 
 art, among the very first of that rising name : and 
 after shewing that he had owed much of his excel- 
 lence to his love for the art, he expressed himself ot 
 him personally, with great candour in the following 
 words : — '^ Of Gainsborough we certainly know that 
 his passion was not the acquirement of riches, but 
 excellence in his art ; and to enjoy that honorable 
 fame which is sure to attend it. — That he felt this 
 ruling jpassion strong in death, I am myself a wit- 
 ness. A few days before he died, he wrote me a 
 letter to express his acknowledgments for the good 
 opinion I entertained of his abilities, anti the mann-.n' 
 in which (he had been informed) I always spoke of 
 him; and desired he might see me once more before 
 he died. I am aware how flattering it is to myself to 
 be thus connected with the dying testimony which 
 this excellent painter bore to his art. But I cannot 
 prevail on myself to suppress, that I was not connecteil 
 with him, by any habits of familiarity : if any little
 
 278 MEMOIRS OF ' 
 
 jealousies liad subsisted between us, they were for- 
 gotten in those moments of sincerity ; and he turned 
 towards me as one who was engrossed by the same 
 pursuits, and who deserved his good opinion by being 
 sensible of his excellence. Without entering into a 
 detail of what passed at this last interview, the im- 
 pression of it upon my mind M'as, that his regret at 
 losing life, was principally the regret of leaving his 
 art; and more especially as he now began, he said, to 
 see what his deficiencies were; w^hich, he said, he 
 flattered himself, in his last works, were, in some 
 measure, supplied/' 
 
 The remainder of this discourse, the fourteenth, 
 was dedicated to a comparison of Gainsborough with 
 some other landscape painters, and it contains many 
 most judicious observations, alike useful to the critic 
 and the artist. 
 
 Of the many pictures of Sir Joshua himself, by his 
 own hand, the last which he painted was executed this 
 year: it is a three quarter length, with spectacles, rep- 
 resenting him familiarly, as in common domestic life. 
 Of this picture there are several duplicates : one in 
 tlie possession of the Duke of Leeds ; but his niece, 
 the Marchioness of Thomond, possesses the original. 
 
 The well known satirical and descriptive produc- 
 tion, called *» Modern Characters from Shakspear^," 
 was published this year. The passages, from the 
 Wmter^s Tale and Timon^ applied to Sir Joshua, 
 are so well selected, that I cannot refuse them a place 
 here. 
 
 The first was — " That rare master, who, had he 
 himself eternity, and could put breath into his work, 
 would beguile nature of her custom.*' — The second 
 — " Admirable ! how this grace speaks his own stand- 
 ing! what a mental power this eye shoots forth! how 
 big imagination moves in this lip !" 
 
 I come now to a most unfortunate era in the life of 
 this great artist, when he encountered a heavy dis- 
 pensation, the heaviest that could befal a professional 
 maU; the partial loss of his sight.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 S79 
 
 Mr. Malone, whose intimacy with Sir Joshua, at 
 the time, enabled him to be perfectly correct in his 
 statement, says, that he for the first time perceived 
 this failure in the month of July, whilst giviug nearly 
 the last finishing to a portrait of the present Mar- 
 choiness of Hertford. This, of course, was the last 
 female portrait which he ever painted ; for, finding it 
 difficult to proceed, he immediately desisted, and in a 
 few months afterwards he totally lost the use of his 
 left eye, notwithstanding all the care of the most 
 skilful practitioners in tliat branch of surgery. Amongst 
 the last of his portraits of men, were those of Messrs. 
 Windham and Cholmondeley, of Lord Macartney, 
 never finished, and of Mr. Fox. 
 
 I mention these circumstances particularly in this 
 place, because, that he now found it absolutely neces- 
 sary to abstain from the use of his pencil, lest his re- 
 maining eye should also be afiected : a determination 
 which cost him great pain, and required great reso- 
 lution to adhere to, as it deprived him of his best and 
 dearest source of enjoyment, though he still ventured 
 to read a little, or to listen to others ; nor did he find 
 himself deprived of the society of his friends, his mis- 
 fortune not having affected his equal mind so much 
 as to render him peevish or discontented. Indeed, 
 like a philosopher, he endeavoured to console himself 
 by the pleasures left him, more than to lament the loss 
 of those of which he was deprived ; and of these 
 pleasures, he found many in the friendly intercourse 
 of the Literary Club, which, however, was, in some 
 measure, interrupted by the politics of that period, if 
 we are to judge from a letter of Sir William Jones to 
 Sir Joseph Banks, written in the latter end of this very 
 year : " I wish politics at the devil, but hope, that 
 when the King recovered. Science revived. It gives 
 me great pain to know, that party, as it is called, (I 
 call \i faction, because I hold party to l)e grounded on 
 principles, and faction on self-interest.) has found its 
 way into a Literary Club, who meet reciprocally to 
 impart, and receive new ideas. I have deep-rooted
 
 280 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 political pviuciples, which the law taught me ; but I 
 should never thiuk of iatroducinji; them among men of 
 science, and if, on my return to Europe, ten or twelve 
 years hence, I should not iind more science than 
 politics in the club, my seat in it will be at the ser- 
 vice of any politician who may wish to be one of the 
 party.'^ 
 
 Sir William Jones, however, did not live to return ; 
 nor did Sir Joshua, indeed, mingle in those debates 
 to which he alludes, but preserved the same friendly 
 tenor of conduct and suavity of manners to his asso- 
 ciates there, that he exercised towards all men in 
 private life ; for politics never amused him or ever 
 employed his thoughts a moment. 
 
 That kindness of manner and readiness to oblige 
 were particularly exemplified by a little incident 
 which happened this year, thus noted by Mr. Dayes, 
 the artist, who says, " Malice has charged him with 
 avarice ; probably from his not having been prodigal 
 like too many of his profession. His offer to me proves 
 the contrary. At the time that I made the drawings 
 of the King at St. Paul's, after his illness, Reynolds 
 complimented me handsomely on seeing them, and 
 afterwards observed, that the labour bestowed must 
 have been such, that I could not be remunerated from 
 selling them ; but if I would publish them myself, he 
 would lend me the money necessary, and engage to 
 get me a handsome subscription among the nobility."' 
 
 An unhappy difference now took place between the 
 President and the Royal Academy, which made con- 
 siderable noise, and has often been related by various 
 writers, according (in some measure,) to the feelings 
 which they had in the business. I shall endeavour, 
 however, to state the whole affair as impartially as 
 possible ; but according to my own conception of the 
 business, which is very well told by an obsure author 
 in a pamphlet published at the time, who says, that 
 in the year 1790, Sir Joshua Reynolds (probably at 
 the request of the Earl of Aylesford,) possessed a 
 very anxious desire to procure the vacant professor-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ggl 
 
 fship of Perspective in the Academy for Mr. Bouorai, 
 an Italian arcliitect ; and as Mr. Bononii had not yet 
 been elected an Associate, and of course was not an 
 Academician, it became a necessary step to raise him 
 to those situations, in order to qualify him for being a 
 Professor. The election proceeded, and Mr. Gilpin 
 was a competitor for the associateship with the Italian 
 architect. The numbers on the ballot proved equal : 
 and the president gave the casting vote for his friend 
 Mr. Bonomi, who was thereby advanced so far to- 
 wards the professorship. On the vacancy of an aca- 
 demic seat by the death of Mr. Meyers, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds exerted all his influence to obtain it for Mr. 
 Bonomi; but a spirit of resistance appeared, (owing, I 
 believe, to some misconception, or to some informality 
 on the part of Sir Joshua, in producing some drawings 
 of Bonomi's) and Mr. Faseli was elected an Acade- 
 mician by a majority of two to one. The President 
 then quitted the chair with great dissatisfaction ; and 
 on the following day (the twelfth of February,) Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, who for twenty-one years had filled 
 the chair of the Royal Academy, with honour to him- 
 self and his country, sent his resignation to Mr. 
 Richards, the Secretary of the Academy. 
 
 A council was soon after held, and the subject of 
 their deliberation was, the resignation of the Presi- 
 dent. A letter from Sir Joshua to Mr. Richards was 
 then read, declaring his resolution to resign the Presi- 
 dency of the Royal Academy. A letter from Sir Wil 
 iiam Chambers to Sir Joshua was also read ; this was 
 addressed to Sir Joshua, in consequence of Sir Wil- 
 liam's interview with the King, in an early stage of this 
 business; and, among other flattering marks of the 
 Sovereign's favour, the letter expressed, " That his 
 Majesty would be happy in Sir Joshua's continuing in 
 the President's chair." 
 
 Sir Joshua's letter to Sir William Chambers, in 
 reply, stated in effect, ^' That he inferred his conduct 
 must have been hitherto satisfactory to his Majesty, 
 from the very gratifying way in which his Royal
 
 ZS2 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 pleasure had been declared; and, if any inducement 
 could make him depart from his original resolution, 
 tlie will of his Sovereign would prevail; but that, 
 flattery by his Majesty's approval to the last, there 
 could be nothing that was not perfectly honorable in 
 his resignation ; and that, in addition to this deter- 
 mination, as he could not consistently hold the sub- 
 ordinate distinction of Royal Academician, after he 
 had so long possessed the chair, he begged also to 
 relinquish that honour." 
 
 All idea of now soothing Sir Joshua, by any pro- 
 ceeding of tlie Academy, since the Sovereign's wishes 
 liad been of no avail, was rejected as superfluous and 
 inconsistent. 
 
 Immediately on Sir Joshua's resignation, the fol- 
 lowing lines were addressed to him by a Nobleman of 
 genius, which I insert because they contain character- 
 istic truths, and elegance of poetry. Some other 
 verses were addressed to him by diflfereut persons but 
 none of equal merit. 
 
 TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, &C, &C. 
 
 " Too wise for contest, and too meek for strife, 
 Like Lear, oppress'd by tliose you rais'd to life, 
 Thy sceptre broken, thy dominion o'er. 
 The curtain falls, and thou'rt a king no more. 
 Still near the wreck of thy demolished state, 
 Truth, and the weeping Muse with me shall wait; 
 Science shall teach Britannia's self to moan, 
 And make, O injured Friend! thy wrongs her own, 
 
 " Shall we forget, when with incessant toil, 
 To thee 'twas given to turn this stubborn soil, 
 To thee with flowers to deck our dreary waste, 
 And kill the poisonous weeds of vicious taste; 
 To pierce the gloom where England's genius slept, 
 Long of soft love and tenderness bereft; 
 From his young limbs to tear the bands away, 
 And bid the infant giant run and play ? 
 
 " Dark was the hour, the age an age of stone, 
 When Hudson claimed an empire of his own ;
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 283 
 
 And from the time when, darting rival light, 
 
 Vandyke and Rubens cheered our northern night, 
 
 Those twin stars set, the Graces all had tied, 
 
 Yet paused to hover o'er a Lely's head ; 
 
 And sometimes bent, when won with earnest prayer, 
 
 To make the gentle Kneller all their care; 
 
 But ne'er with smiles to gaudy Verrio turned ; 
 
 No happy incense on his altars burned. 
 
 O witness, Windsor, thy too passive walls. 
 
 Thy tortured ceilings, thy insulted halls! 
 
 Lo! England's glory, Edward's conquering son, 
 
 Cover'd with spoils from Poictiers bravely won ; 
 
 Yet no white plumes, no arms of sable hue, 
 
 Mark the young hero to our ravish'd view; 
 
 In buskin trim, and laurelled helmet bright, 
 
 A well-dressed Roman meets our puzzled sight; 
 
 And Gallia's captive king, how strange his doom, 
 
 A Roman too perceives himself become! 
 
 <' See too the miracles of God profaned, 
 By the mad daubings of this impious hand. 
 For while the dumb exult in notes of praise. 
 While the lame walk, the blind in transport gaze, 
 While vanquished demons Heaven's high mandates hear, 
 And the pale dead spring from the silent bier; 
 With laced cravat, long wig, and careless mien, 
 The painter's present at the wondrous scene! 
 
 " Vanloo and Dahl, these may more justly claim 
 A step still higher on the throne of fame; 
 Yet to the west their course they seem to run, 
 The last red streaks of a declining sun. 
 
 " And must we Jervas name ? so hard and cold, 
 In ermine, robes, and peruke only bold ; 
 Or when inspired, his rapturous pencil own 
 The rolled-up stocking, and the damask gown, 
 Behold a tasteless age in wonder stand. 
 And hail him the Appelles of the land ! 
 And Denner too ; — but yet so void of ease, 
 His figures tell you they're forbid to please; 
 Nor in proportion, nor expression nice, 
 The strong resemblance is itself a vice: 
 As wax-work figures always shock the sight, 
 Too near to human flesh and shape, affriglit, 
 And when they best are form'd aiford the least del 
 pp 
 
 ight. J
 
 281 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 " Turu ye from such to thee, whose nobler art 
 Rivets the eye, and penetrates the heart 
 To thee whom nature, in thy earliest youth, 
 Fed with the honey of eternal truth: 
 I'henjby her roudlin;; art, in happy hour, 
 Enticed to learning's more seque^tVed bovver. 
 There all thy life of honours first was planned, 
 "While nature preached, and science held thy hand. 
 "When, but for these, condemned perchance to trace 
 The tiresome vacuum of each senseless face, 
 Thou in thy living tints had ne'er combined 
 AH grace of form, and energy of mind. 
 Hovv,biit for these, siiould we have trembling fled 
 The guilty tossings of a Beaufort's bed; 
 Or let the fountain of our sorrows flow 
 At sigl»t of famished Ugolino's woe ? 
 Bent on revenge, should we have pensive stood 
 O'er the pale cherubs of the fatal wood, 
 Caught the last perfume of their rosy breath, 
 And viewed them smiling at the stroke of death ? 
 Should we have questioned, stung with rage and pain, 
 The spectre line with the distracted Thane? 
 Or with Alcmena's natural terror wild, 
 From the envenomed serpent torn her child ? 
 
 <' And must no more thy pure and classic page 
 Unfold its treasures to the rising age .^^ 
 Nor from thy own vVthenian temple pour 
 On listening youtli of art the copious store; 
 Hold up to labour independent ease. 
 And teach ambition all the ways to please; 
 AVith ready hand neglected Genius save, 
 Sickening, o'erlook'd in Misery's hidden cave; 
 And, nobly just, decide the active mind 
 Neither to soil, nor climate is confined.^ 
 
 " Desert not then thy sons, those sons who soon 
 AVill mourn with me, and all their error own. 
 Thou must excuse that raging fire, the same 
 "Which lights their daily course to endless fame ; 
 Alas! impels them thoughtless far to stray 
 From filial love, and Reason's sober way. 
 Accept again thy power, resume the chair, 
 Nor leave it, till you place an Equal there."
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, 285 
 
 Even Peter Pindar, in his eccentric way, laments 
 also what he considered as improper treatment of this 
 great painter, and in his verse attempts to immortalize 
 that head which had so often, assisted hy liis hand, 
 immortalized the heads of so many others ; and this 
 the witty poet compares to that of Orpheus, whicli, on 
 his bein^ torn in pieces, was carried down the stream 
 and drifted to the island of Lesbos. Tlie passage is 
 in one of his Lyric Odes. 
 
 " Now Pve been thinking, if our Reynolds' head 
 Should, on his palette, down the Thames drive souse, 
 
 And mindful of the walls he once ariaj'd 
 Bring to, a bit, at Somerset new house; 
 
 What scramblings there would be, what worlds of pains 
 
 Among the artists to possess his brains. 
 And like Neanthus for great Orplieus' lyre. 
 
 Some for his palette would be raising frays, 
 In hopes, no doubt, the wood wouhl each inspire 
 
 To paint like him for — fame in better days; 
 As if a soldier, who'd no legs to use, 
 Should fight for his dead comrade's boots and shoos. 
 
 Reynolds, when I reflect what sons of fame 
 Have shar'd thy friendship, I with sighs regret 
 That all have died a little in thy debt, 
 
 And left a trump unknown to swell thy name; 
 But courage friend! when Time's releniiess tooth 
 Hath nibbled mountains to the ground smack smooth 
 And pick*d,as one would pick a savoury bone. 
 Each monument of iron, and brass, and stone: — 
 Thy name shall live, and like heav'n's sacred fire 
 Succeeding artists kindle, and inspire." 
 
 Every Academician now regretted the unforeseen 
 consequence of the unfortunate disagreement; how- 
 ever, tlie whole body showed so liberal a desire to 
 retain Sir Joshua in the chair, tliat, after agitating 
 those unpleasant differences between the president 
 and the academy with as much delicacy as possible, 
 it was determined that a delegation of the following 
 gentlemen, to wit, Messrs. West, Farington, Cos way, 
 Catton, Sand by, Bacon, Copley, Barry, and Rigaud, 
 should wait upon Sir Joshua, and lay before him the
 
 386 MExMOIRS OF 
 
 resolution which tlie Academy had come to iu order to 
 produce a conciliatory effect. The resolution was in 
 substance as follows : 
 
 ^' That it appeared, when the drawings of Mr. 
 Bonomi were introduced at the election, Sir Joshua, 
 by whose directions they were brought in, had certain- 
 ly acted iu conformity to tlic intentions of the council, 
 as appeared by an order entered on their books : but 
 that, such order not going through the regular forms 
 necessary to constitute a law, the full body of Acade- 
 micians remained ignorant of the proceeding, and 
 therefore fell into an error iu ordering the drawings 
 to be removed. But, as they unanimously professed 
 that no personal disrespect was intended towards Sir 
 Joshua, they trusted he would be prevailed upon to 
 comply with the wishes of the King, and continue in 
 the Presidency of the Royal Academy." 
 
 The above delegates accordingly waited upon Sir 
 .Tosiiua, to intreat him to w ithdraw his letter of resig- 
 nation, and resume his situation as President of an 
 institution to which his talents had been so long an 
 essential support. Tliey had an interview with him 
 at his house in Leicester Square, and were received 
 with great politeness; and every mark of respect was 
 expressed by tliose who had hitherto been deemed 
 least cordial to the interests of the President. Upon a 
 full explanation of the intentions and views of the 
 Academy being made, and their wishes expressed 
 that Sir Joshua would continue to adorn the presi- 
 dency, he, after a handsome declaration of his grati- 
 tude for this honorable proceeding towards him, 
 consented to resume the chair, and the whole of the 
 delegates were invited to dine with him, in order to 
 convince them that he returned to his office with 
 aentiments of the most cordial amity. 
 
 On the suggestion of Lord Lansdowne, it was 
 thought that Sir Joshua could not resume the chair 
 till he had tiie proper authority of the King. For this, 
 in due form, Lord Lansdowne applied ; and when 
 granted, this great artist attended at Somerset House,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ggjf 
 
 to be restored to all his honours in full assembly of 
 the members. 
 
 Shortly after this, Sir Joshua delivered his fifteenth 
 and last discourse, in which lie took leave of the 
 Academy, on the 10th of December, I79O : a dis- 
 course which gave a foreign artist, of considerable 
 celebrity, occasion to say, that if he had only heard 
 this final oration in praise of Michael Angelo, and 
 seen that great national ornament, Somerset H«)use, 
 he should have been certain that the English nation 
 were far advanced in the highest departments of art. 
 
 On this interesting occasion, Sir Joshua observed, 
 that the intimate connexion which he had maintained 
 Avith the Royal Academy ever since its establishment, 
 and the social duties in which he and its members 
 had been mutually engaged for so many years, render- 
 ed any profession of attachment on his part altogether 
 superfluous; as, independent of other causes, such 
 attachment would naturally have been produced in 
 such a connexion, by the influence of habit alone. He 
 modestly hinted at the little difl'erences which had 
 arisen : but expressed his wish that such things 
 should be lost amongst the members in mutual esteem 
 for talents and acquirements, and that every contro- 
 versy would be sunk in general zeal for the perfection 
 of that art common to them all. 
 
 In parting with the Academy, he declared that he 
 would remember with pride, affection, and gratitude, 
 the support with which he had almost uniformly been 
 honored, from the commencement of the Establish- 
 ment; and that he should leave it with unaffected 
 cordial wishes for its future concord, aud with a well- 
 founded hope, that in that concord, the auspicious, 
 and not obscure, origin of the Academy, might not be 
 forgotten in the splendour of succeding prospects. 
 
 He then, with his usual modesty, assigned his 
 reasons for thus voluntarily giving those periodical 
 discourses. 
 
 " If prizes were to be given, it appeared not only 
 proper but almost indispensably necessary, that some-
 
 288 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 thing should be said by the President on the delivery 
 of those prizes, and the President, for his own credit, 
 would wish to say something move than mere words 
 of compliment ; which, by being frequentl}-^ repeated, 
 would soon become Hat and uninteresting, and by 
 being uttered to many, would at last become a dis- 
 tinction to none. I thought, therefore, if I were to 
 preface this compliment with some instructive ob- 
 servations on the art, when we crowned merit in the 
 artists whom we rewarded, 1 might do something to 
 animate and guide them in their future attempts." 
 
 Though Sir Joshua had not actually made his final 
 resignation at this period, yet it is evident that he 
 contemplated it, as he observed that his age and in- 
 firmities made it probable that this would really be 
 his last address ; and he added, with a degree of 
 philosophy wortliy of imitation, that excluded as he 
 was from indulging his imagination with a distant 
 and forward perspective of life, so he trusted that he 
 would be excused for turning his eyes back on the 
 way that he had passed. 
 
 To follow him through this review of his pro- 
 fessional life and discourses would far exceed my 
 proposed limits; but I may be permitted to say, that 
 if he did not absolutely feel the ruling passion strong 
 in death, yet he appeared to express its strongest 
 sentiments in what may thus be called his professional 
 demise, whicli he concluded with these remarkable 
 words, after having expatiated on the exalted genius 
 of his favourite master — 
 
 ^* I feel a self-congratulation in knowing myself 
 capable of such sensations as he intended to excite. 
 I reflect, not without vanity, that these discourses 
 bear testimony of my admiration of that truly divine 
 man ; and I should desire that the last words which I 
 should pronounce in this Academy, and from this 
 place, might be the name of — Michael Angela !'^ 
 
 On tlie evening of tiie delivery of this discourse 
 one remarkable circumstance occurred, which, at the 
 moment, not a little alarmed the company there
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 289 
 
 assembled, and wliich was this. At the time when 
 Sir Joshua was delivering his oration to a verv 
 numerous and even crowded audience, composed of 
 persons of the highest rank in the state, as well as all 
 those who were the most eminent in art, and just at the 
 moment when a respectful and solemn silence prevail- 
 ed, on a sudden a loud crash was heard, and a sensa- 
 tion felt, as if the floor of (his great room, which is at 
 the top of the house, was giving way and falling.^ 
 The company immediately took the alarm, and rush- 
 ed towards the door, or to the sides of the room, 
 tumbling one over the other, in the utmost confusion 
 and consternation, expecting, every moment, that the 
 floor would fall away, and [)recipitate them down to 
 the lower part of the building. 
 
 Sir Joshua was silent, but did not move from his 
 seat: when, after some little time, the company per- 
 ceiving that the danger had ceased, most of them 
 resumed their places, and Sir Joshua calmly con- 
 tinued his discourse, as coolly as if nothing extraor- 
 dinary had occurred. 
 
 On an examination of the floor afterwards, it was 
 found that one of the beams for its support had actual- 
 ly given way from the great weight of the assembly 
 of persons who pressed up6n it, and probably from a 
 flaw also in the wood. 
 
 I remember the remark Sir Josliua made on this 
 accident was, that if the floor had really fallen, most 
 of the persons assembled must have been crushed i<> 
 death in consequence; and if so, the arts, in this 
 country, would have been thrown two hundred years 
 back. 
 
 But, providentially, no ill eflect was produced by 
 the circumstance. 
 
 It was the opinion of Sir Joshua Reynolds, that 
 Michael Angelo was superior to the ancients, as he 
 once declared to me ; and on my not according with 
 him in that opinion, 1 remember he said, ^* You have 
 the strongest party in the argument, because you have 
 the world on your side,*' But at this time I am more
 
 ggO MExMOlRS OF 
 
 inclined to think with him, at least thus far, that in 
 the, works of Michael Angelo there always appears 
 to be an exquisite sentiment produced; but from the 
 antique, nothing of that which he inspires. The an- 
 tique gives us, undoubtedly, a more perfect example 
 of just proportions, and of characters. I apprehend 
 the same qualities run through all their works of every 
 species : their dramas seem to be the works of men of 
 most powerful heads, and therefore the most proper 
 models for the schools, as, in them, nothing that is 
 wrong can be found ; and we may therefore assist our 
 judgment, by tlie help of their examples, as infallible 
 guides, which examples can be reduced to rules. But 
 the feelings of the heart admit of but little assistance 
 or improvement from iixed rules. Thus, he who may 
 have settled his notions of perfection from the models 
 of the ancient dramas, and supposes nothing can sur- 
 pass them in any quality whatever, must be struck 
 with astonishment and admiration, when, for the first 
 time, he contemplates the pages of Shakspeare, where 
 such various sensations, subtle and refined, are de- 
 scribed. Yet Shakspeare cannot, like the ancients, be 
 admitted as a model for the schools, inasmuch as 
 he is irregular and licentious, and his excellencies, 
 like all those of genius, cannot be taught. 
 
 It must have been in this view that Sir Joshua 
 saw a superiority in Michael Angelo over the an- 
 tique ; as surely he could not think him equal to them 
 in just proportion, or in the decision and propriety of 
 character. 
 
 Some attempts may be discovered in his practice to 
 imitate Michael Angelo; and more to imitate Corre- 
 gio : but it is evident, that his whole life was devoted to 
 his finding out the Venetian mode of colouring; in the 
 pursuit of which he risked both his fame and his 
 fortune. 
 
 This being nearly the close of Sir Joshua's pro- 
 fessional life, I may remark, that, for some years, his 
 price has been fifty guineas for a head portrait, the 
 other sizes being in proportion. On this subject, a
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 291 
 
 friend observed to him, that it certainly seemed to be 
 a great demand; but that when it was taken into con- 
 sideration how many pictures were left upon his 
 hands, and never paid for, it would not amount to 
 more, perhaps, than ten guineas for each, individually, 
 which was too small a price. To this Sir Joshua 
 smilingly replied, that he thought " ten guineas for 
 each was a very reasonable profit.'^ 
 
 I recollect a circumstance of a certain lad}^ who 
 came to Sir Joshua to have her portrait painted by 
 him, a short time before he raised his price to its final 
 extent; but on her asking his demand, and being in- 
 formed that it was forty guineas for the half length, 
 she started, saying that she did not apprehend his 
 terms to be so high, adding, that she must take soma 
 time to consider upon it. Shortly after, this lady paid 
 Sir Joshua another visit, and informed him, that she 
 had now made up her mind, and was come to a reso- 
 lution to comply with his proposed terms ; when he 
 acquainted her of his price being raised; and, of course, 
 that what would have been forty, was now sixty 
 guineas. Thus, doubly mortified, the lady saw 
 there was no alternative ; and she frankly owned, that 
 she would have her portrait drawn by him at any 
 price ; and accordingly sat for it. 
 
 Though now contemplating a succession from pub- 
 lic life, Sir Joshua did not feel any decrease in his 
 love for the art, or in his good wishes for the pro. 
 fession, sentiments strikingly evinced by iiis general 
 conduct at all times, and particularly so in the year 
 
 1791. 
 
 He had, during the course of his professional la- 
 bours, procured a very large and valuable collection 
 of paintings, the works of the old masters ; and his 
 assemblage of prints was highly valuable and interest- 
 ing. So great, indeed, was his desire to render his 
 collection a good one, that, as Mr. Dayes very accu- 
 rately states, he offered to cover twice with guineas, 
 as the price of purchase, the picture of the " Witch 
 coming from Hell with a lap full of Charms,'^ by 
 Qq
 
 o^QH MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Tenievs; but this was refused. Yet it is pleasing to 
 record, that lie afterwards possessed this very picture; 
 and, as he modestly declared, by only painting a por- 
 trait, a fancy subject, and i^iving another of his own 
 works, already executed. The sum which lie offered 
 would have amounted to nearly one thousand guineas ! 
 
 In this collection he had what he thought to be au 
 oil painting of his favourite, Michael Angelo — a 
 JVladoua and Child. But this involves a question 
 which no one can determine; for if it was by Michael 
 Angelo it would be invaluable indeed, not so much 
 from its intrinsic merit, as from the extreme rarity of 
 oil paintings from the pencil of tliat artist, and of 
 M'hich there are, indeed, very few in existence ; for 
 oil-fainting, he used to say, '^ was only fit for women 
 and children!*"* 
 
 Still, however, Sir Joshua's professed admiration of 
 him was so great, that Angelo's head was engraved 
 on his seal ; and he also introduced his bust in that 
 portrait which he painted of himself for the Royal 
 Academy, and has marked the name of Michael An- 
 gelo on the paper held in the hand of his portrait, now 
 in the Gallery at Florence. 
 
 __, So anxious was Sir Joshua Reynolds for the dif- 
 fusion of a good taste in the art, and that future 
 students might find a practical commentary on those 
 precepts which he had now ceased to deliver, that he, in 
 the most liberal manner, offered to the Academy this 
 collection of paintings at a very low price, on the con- 
 dition that they would purchase the Lyceum in the 
 Strand for the purpose of constructing an exhibition 
 room. This generous offer, however, for several 
 reasons, was declined ; yet this must still be a subject 
 of regret when we consider the various testimonies 
 which Sir Joshua has left, to the merit of the great 
 masters, and the necessity of often referring to them ; 
 and whilst so many well selected works were in this 
 collection. In one place he exclaims, " On whom, 
 
 * He had also a^Studij by the same master.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. §93 
 
 then, can the student rely, or who shall slievv him the 
 path that leads to excellence? The answer is obvious : 
 those great masters who have travelled the same road 
 with success, are the most likely to conduct others. 
 The works of those who have stood the test ol" ages, 
 have a claim to that respect and veneration to which 
 no mortal can pretend. The duration and stability of 
 their fame are sufficient to evince that it has not been 
 suspended upon the slender thread of fashion and 
 caprice, but bound to the human heart by every tie of 
 sympathetic approbation." He follows this up by 
 adding, that " Our minds should be habituated to the 
 contemplation of excellence, and, far from being con- 
 tented to make such habits the discipline of our youth 
 only, we should, to tiie last mom.nt of our lives, con- 
 tinue a settled intercourse with all the true examples 
 of grandeur. Tlieir inventions are not only the food 
 of our infancy, but the substance which supplies the 
 fullest maturity of our vigour." 
 
 His often repeated advice then was, — ^' Study, 
 therefore, the great works of the great masters for 
 ever. Study, as nearly as you can, in the order, m 
 the manner, on the principles, on which they studied. 
 Study nature attentively, but always with those mas- 
 ters in your company; consider them as models wiiich 
 you are to imitate, and at the same time as rivals 
 which you are to combat." 
 
 Failing in his attempt to establish a gallery for his 
 pictures, Sir Joshua in this year, (179f>) determined 
 to make a temporary exhibition of them; and this 
 took place in the month of April, at an a[)artment in 
 the Haymarket, which had formerly been that of 
 Ford the auctioneer. To this, the price of admission 
 was one shilling; and as the profits arising from the 
 exhibition were generously given by him to his old 
 servant, Ralph Kirkley, so in the catalogue it was 
 designated as, ^^ Ralph's Exhibition." 
 
 Hitherto, Sir Joshua's personal health had not for- 
 sook him, and indeed, Mr. Malone states that in Sep- 
 temper of tlys year, he was in such healtii and spirits,
 
 294j memoirs of 
 
 that on returning to London from Gregories in Buck- 
 inghamshire, the seat of their mutual friend Edmund 
 Burke, he and Sir Joshua left his carriage at the Inn 
 at Hayes, and walked five miles on the road in a warm 
 day, without his complaining of any fatigue. " He 
 had at that time, though above sixty-eight years of 
 age, the appearance of a man not much beyond fifty, 
 and seemed as likely to live for ten or fifteen years, 
 as any of his younger friends." 
 
 In October, however, his spirits became much 
 depressed, as he then entertained strong apprehen- 
 sions respecting a tumour which had been for some 
 time collecting over his left eye. TJiis was now ac- 
 companied by a considerable degree of inflammation, 
 whicli rendered him fearful that his right eye might 
 also be aflfeeted, and the surgeons adopted every 
 means in their power to discuss it, but without effect; 
 for it was afterwards discovered to consist merely of 
 extravasated blood, and had no connection with the 
 optic nerve. 
 
 He was so impressed, however, with a knowledge 
 of his own state of health, that he now determined to 
 retire from the situation of President; and accordingly 
 be addressed a letter to the Academy, " intimating his 
 intention to resign the office on account of bodily 
 infirmities, which disabled him from executing the 
 duties of it to his own satisfaction.'' 
 
 This was dated on the lOth of November; and on 
 the 15th, a meeting of all the Academicians being 
 called for the election of associates to that body, Mr. 
 West the present President, laid the letter before 
 them, which was received with the most respectful 
 concern by his long tried companions, to whom his 
 talents and virtues were so well known. 
 
 It was now proposed to embody a resolution whose 
 purport should be that a deputation should wait on 
 Sir Joshua to express their regret at this determina- 
 tion, and their wish that he might still retain the 
 office, but appoint a deputy to execute its more labori- 
 ous duties. This office was bestowed on, and accepted
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 295 
 
 hy. Mr. West, as a temporary arraugemeut ; but Sir 
 Joshua was never able afterwards to resume any of 
 his functions; for as Mr. Malone observes, " he 
 laboured under a much more dangerous disease, (than 
 that connected with the state of his eves,) which 
 deprived him of his wonted spirits and his appetite, 
 though he was wholly unable to explain to his pliysi- 
 cians the nature or seat of his disorder." 
 
 During the course of Sir Joshua's active life, he 
 had passed his days in a state of professional honour 
 and social enjoyment,. that has scarcely been equalled, 
 and never surpassed by any of his predecessors in art. 
 He had been blessed also with an excellent constitu- 
 tion by nature. Of these advantages lie was very 
 sensible, and I well remember a remark he once 
 made to me, saying, '^ I have been fortunate in an 
 uninterrupted share of good health and success for 
 thirty years of my life : therefore, whatever ills may 
 attend on the remainder of ray days, 1 shall have no 
 right to complain." 
 
 But infirmities more than age seemed to rush upon 
 liim in the decline of life, and were naturally embit- 
 tered by the sudden contrast. He had from the begin- 
 ning of his malady a fixed apprehension that it would 
 end fatally to him, yet death was slow in its ap- 
 proach, which he surveyed with the fortitude of a 
 philosopher, and the piety of a christian. 
 
 When a friend attempted to give him comfort in 
 the hope of returning health.. He calmly answered, 
 " I know that all things on earth must have an end, 
 and now I am come to mine." 
 
 It was not more than a fortnight before his death, 
 it was discovered that his disorder was occasioned by 
 a diseased liver, which had confined him three painful 
 months to his bed. 
 
 Thus, not having completed his sixty-ninth year, 
 he was taken from tiie world which admired him, and 
 the country which he adorned, on Thursday evening, 
 February the 23rd, 1792. His friends had for some 
 considerable time conceived that he was low spirited,
 
 296 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 without material cause; but on his being opened by 
 Mr. Hunter, a preternatural enlargement of the liver, 
 to more tlian double the usual size, sufficiently ac- 
 counted for his depression and his death. 
 
 Thus have I humbly attempted to trace tlie rise, 
 and progress to the final dissolution, of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, the nation's ornament, and the favourite of 
 an approving world, taken from it when in the height 
 of his professional honours, and in tl)e full possession 
 of an established fame — an artist and a man of whom 
 scarce any praise can be too high. 
 
 To sum up his character in brief I shall here insert 
 the eulogium of Burke, written on tlie impulse of the 
 moment, and which is alike creditable to the memory 
 of departed genius, and to the ready talent of the 
 surviving friend. 
 
 " Last night, in the sixty-ninth year of his age, 
 died, at his house in Leicester fields. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. His illness was long, but borne with a 
 mild and cheerful fortitude, without the least mixture 
 of any thing irritable or querulous; agreeably to the 
 placid and even tenour of his whole life. He had, 
 from the beginning of his malady, a distinct view of 
 his dissolution; and he contemplated it with that 
 entire composure, which nothing but the innocence, 
 integrity, and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected 
 submission to the will of Providence, could bestow. 
 In this situation he had every consolation from family 
 tenderness, which his own kindness had, indeed, well 
 deserved. 
 
 '^ Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many ac- 
 counts, one of the most memorable men of his time. 
 He was the first Englishman who added the praise of 
 the elegant arts to the other glories of his country. 
 In taste, in gmce, in facility, in happy invention, and 
 in the richness and harmony of colouring, he was 
 equal to the greatest masters of the renowned ages. 
 In portrait he went beyond them ; for he communi- 
 cated to that description of the art, in which English 
 artists are the most engaged, a variety, a fancy, and a
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. §97 
 
 dignity, derived from the higher branches, which even 
 those who professed them in a superior manner, did 
 not always preserve, when they delineated individual 
 nature. His portraits remind the spectator of the 
 invention of history, and tlie amenity of landscape. 
 In painting portraits, he appeared not to be raised 
 upon that platform, but to descend upon it from a 
 higher sphere. His paintings illustrate his lessons^ 
 and his lessons seem to be derived from his paintings. 
 
 " He possessed the theory as perfectly as the prac- 
 tice of his art. To be such a painter, he was a pro- 
 found and penetrating philosopher. 
 
 " In full affluence of foreign and domestic fame, ad- 
 mired by the expert in art, and by the learned in 
 science, courted by the great, caressed by Sovereign 
 powers, and celebrated by distinguished poets, his 
 native humility, modesty and candour, never forsook 
 him even on surprize or provocation; nor was the 
 least degree of arrogance or assumption visible to the 
 most scrutinizing eye in any part of his conduct or 
 discourse. 
 
 " His talents of every kind, powerful from nature, 
 and not meanly cultivated by letters, his social virtues 
 in all the relations and all the habitudes of life, ren- 
 dered him the centre of a very great and unparalleled 
 variety of agreeable societies, and which will be dis- 
 sipated by his death. He had too much merit not to 
 excite some jealousy, too much innocence to provoke 
 any enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be 
 felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow. 
 
 *^ hail! and farewell!" 
 
 All the periodical journals of the time teemed with 
 eulogies on the character of this eminent man ; but 
 they are too numerous to insert here, although several 
 of them were extremely well w ritten : but of this of 
 Burke's, it was said by a contemporary journalist, 
 that it was the eulogium of AjJelles pronounced by 
 Pericles, and that to attempt to add to it, would be to
 
 298 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 risk the same censure that would be passed upon an 
 inferior artist who slionld presume to retouch one of 
 Sir Joshua's own pictures. 
 
 What now remains to be detailed, is the account of 
 liis funeral; and I shall, in this, avail myself partly of 
 co{»ying some particulars of that solemn ceremony as 
 they were drawn up for the public prints, by the pens, 
 it is said, of Messrs. Burke and Malone in conjunc- 
 tion — a vfry just statement given with simplicity and 
 feeling, and worthy of its subject. 
 
 It may be necessary to premise, that Mr. Burke 
 applied by letter to the Council of the Royal Acade- 
 my, soon after Sir Joshua's decease, requesting that 
 the apartment allotted to the exhibition, might then 
 be prepared in the usual forms of solemnity, in order 
 that the body might lie there in state previous to in- 
 terment, so that the last sad tribute to his memory 
 might take place from that spot so often embellished 
 by the effusions of his magic pencil. 
 
 The Academy felt the requisition too forcibly, not 
 to consent immediately, with one solitary exception; 
 however, this opposition was sufficiently powerful to 
 hold its ground against all the united voices, until 
 silenced by an express order from the Royal Patron 
 that every possible honour should be paid to the mem- 
 ory of their venerable President. 
 
 Therefore, acting under this express order of his 
 majesty, a condescension highly honourable to the 
 memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and exceedingly 
 gratifying to the wishes of that Society of eminent 
 Artists — every thing being finally arranged, the 
 corpse, in the coffin covered with black velvet, was 
 removed from Leicester-fields to Somerset-house on 
 the night of Friday, the 2nd of March, where it lay 
 in state that night, and until the beginning of the 
 funeral procession, in the Model-room of the Academy 
 which was hung with black cloth and lighted by 
 chandeliers, whilst an escutcheon of arms was em- 
 blazoned at the head of the room; the hour of noon
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ggg 
 
 on the folloM'ing day being appointed for the perform- 
 ance of the obsequies. 
 
 On Saturday, the 3rd of March, 1792, the expecta- 
 tion of this solemnity had filled all the streets, through 
 which tlie procession was to pass, with people innu- 
 merable of all ranks, as well as the windows of every 
 house ; but the passage of all carriages, except those 
 which were to form the procession, was strictly pre- 
 vented by peace officers stationed for that purpose, 
 and all the shops in the line of procession were closely 
 shut up. 
 
 Independent of those who, according to the ar- 
 rangement, were to form the funeral cavalcade, the 
 greatest part of the most distinguished individuals 
 in the kingdom had assembled at Somerset-house, 
 anxious to pay the last melancholy duties to him 
 whom they had been accustomed to love for his vir- 
 tues, and to respect for his talents ; and many more 
 were prevented by illness and unexpected and un- 
 avoidable necessity, from paying this mark of respect, 
 to their great regret. 
 
 The persons, who attended the funeral, assembled 
 in the Council-chamber and Library of the Royal 
 Academy, and the Academicians in the great Exhibi- 
 tion-room; and as many others as could be admitted 
 with propriety into the procession, were permitted to 
 join it; and though the company were very select, 
 yet so extended was the line of carriages, that the 
 procession required nearly two hours to move from 
 Somerset-house to St. Paul's : and the last carriage 
 had only to set oiF from the former place just as the 
 City Marshals, who led the procession, had arrived 
 at the doors of the Cathedral. 
 
 R r
 
 300 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 The order of the procession was arranged as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 Twelve peace officers to clear the way. 
 
 Two City Marshals on liorscback. 
 
 Lord Mayor's Carriage. 
 
 Two SheriiTs of London. 
 
 The Undertaker and ten Conductors on horsebacks 
 
 A Lid with plumes of feathers. 
 
 The Hearse with six horses. 
 
 Ten Pall -bearers, viz. 
 
 Duke of Dorset, Lord Higli Steward of 
 
 His Majesty's Household, 
 
 Duke of Leeds, Duke of Portland, 
 
 Marquis Townshend, Marquis of Abercorn, 
 
 Earl of Carlisle, Earl of Inchiquin, 
 
 Earl of Upper Ossory, Lord Viscount Palmerston, 
 
 Lord Eliot. 
 
 Robert Lovel Gwatkin, Esq. Chief Mourner. 
 
 Two Attendants of the family, one of them 
 
 Mr. Marchi. 
 
 Right Honourable Edmund Burke. ^ 
 
 Edmond Malone, Esq. > Executors. 
 
 Philip Metcalfe, Esq. ) 
 
 The Council of the Royal Academy. 
 The Keeper. Tlie Treasurer. 
 The Secretary. The Librarian. 
 Professors. 
 Mr. T. Sand by, Mr. Barry, 
 Bennet Langton, Esq. James Boswell, Esq. 
 (in ancient literature.) {Secretary for foreig-v 
 
 correspondence.') 
 
 Academicians, two and two. 
 
 Associates, two and two. 
 
 Artists, not members of the Royal Academy. 
 
 Students. 
 
 After these-, there followed, the Archbishop of York, 
 Marquis of Buckingham, Earls of Fife and Carys- 
 fort^ Bishop of London, Lords St. Asaph, Fortescue,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 301 
 
 Vomers, and Lucan, the Dean of Norwich, Risjht 
 Honourable William Windham, Sirs Abraham Hume, 
 George Beaumont, Thomas Dundas, Charles Bun- 
 bury, and William Forbes, Barts. Drs. Geori^e Fur- 
 dyce, Ash, Brocklesby, and Blagden ; also the fol- 
 lowing Members of Parliament, Sir William ScoU, 
 George Rose, John Rolle, William Weddell, Regi- 
 nald Pole Carew, Mattliew Alontague, Richard 
 P. Knight, Dudle}'^ North, and John Cleveland, 
 Esquires ; to whom we may add other gentlemen, viz. 
 Richard Clark, Charles Townley, Ahel Moysey, 
 Welbore * Ellis Agar, William Seward, Edward 
 Jerningham, Richard Burke, Tlioiiias Coutts, J. J. 
 Angerstein, Edward Gwatkin, Charles Burney, John 
 Hunter, William Cruikshank, and John Devaynes, 
 Esqrs. together with Colonel Gwynn, Captain Pole, 
 Mr. Kemble, Br. Lawrence, Mr. Alderman Boydell, 
 Messrs. Poggi, Breda, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 This company was conveyed in forty-two mourning 
 coaches, whilst forty-nine coaches belonging to the 
 nobility and gentry, followed the procession. 
 
 The statement of which I have spoken, goes on to 
 detail that at half past three o'clock was interred the 
 body of " Sir Joshua Reynolds, Knt. Doctor of Law s 
 in the Universities of Oxford and Dublin, Principal 
 Painter to his Majesty, President of the Royal 
 Academy of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, of 
 London, Fellow of the Royal Society, Fellow of the 
 Society of Antiquaries, and Member of the Imperial 
 Academy at Florence." 
 
 The spot selected for the grave was in the crypt 
 nnderneatli the body of the Cathedral, next to that of 
 Dr. Newton, late Bishop of Bristol, '' and close by the 
 tomb of the famous Sir Christopher Wren, the archi- 
 tect of that edifice." 
 
 On this solemn occasion it was still some consola- 
 tion to reflect, that the company who attended it con- 
 sisted of a great number of the most distinguished 
 persons, who were emulous in their desire of paying 
 their last honours to the remains of him whose life had
 
 303 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 been employed in the exertions of the highest talents, 
 and in the exercise; of those virtues that make a man 
 respectable and beloved. 
 
 Never was a pul)lic solemnity conducted with more 
 decorum and dignity. The procession set out at half 
 an hour after twelve o'clock. The hearse arrived at 
 the Western gate of St. Paul's about a quarter after 
 two, and was there met by the Dignitaries of the 
 church, and by the gentlemen of the choir, who 
 chaunted the proper Psalms, while the procession 
 moved to the entrance of the choir, where was per- 
 formed, in a superior manner, the full choir evening 
 service, together with the famous anthem of Dr. 
 Boyce; the body remaining during the whole time in 
 the centre of the choir. The chief mourner and gentle- 
 men of the Academy, having long cloaks of black, as 
 of the family, were placed by the body ; the chief 
 mourner in a chair at the head; the two attendants at 
 the feet; the Pall-bearers and Executors in the seats 
 on the decanel side; the other noblemen and gentle- 
 men on the cantorial side. The Bishop of London 
 was in his proper place, as were the Lord Mayor and 
 Sheriffs. 
 
 " After t!ie service, the body was conveyed into the 
 crypt, and placed immediately beneath the perforated 
 brass plate, under the centre of the dome. Dr. Jef- 
 feries. Canon Residentiary, with the other Canons, and 
 the whole choir, came under the dome; the grave 
 digger attending in the middle with a shovel of mould, 
 which at the proper time was thrown through the 
 aperture of the plate, on the coflBn. The funeral 
 service was chaunted, and accompanied on the organ 
 in a grand and affecting manner. When the funeral 
 service was ended, the Chief Mourner and Executors 
 went into the crypt, and attended the corpse to the 
 grave, which was dug under the pavement. 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs honoured the pro- 
 cesssion by coming to Somerset Place, where an offi- 
 cer's guard of thirty men was placed at the great 
 court-gate. After the procession had passed through
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 3O3 
 
 Temple Bar, the gates were shut by order of the Lord 
 Mayor, to prevent any interruption from carria^'-es 
 passing to or from the City." 
 
 After the ceremony, the Procession returned in 
 nearly the same order to the Royal Academy; and I 
 may here mention, that it contained as many members, 
 of the " Literary Club," as were not prevented by 
 personal duties from attending it. It has also been 
 noticed, as worthy of record, that in the procession 
 were three Knights of the Garter, two of St. Patrick, 
 and one of the Thistle, three Dukes, and four noble- 
 men who had held the high office of Viceroy of 
 Ireland. 
 
 A cold collation having been prepared for tlie mem- 
 bers of Royal Academy, on their return to Somerset 
 Place, Mr. Burke entered the room to return the 
 thanks of the family for the attention shewn to the re- 
 mains of their lamented President; but his feelings 
 were too acute to permit him to utter the sentiments 
 he wished to express. 
 
 ^' Thus," says a recent panegyrist, " thus were 
 deposited the remains of Sir Joshua Reynolds, doubly 
 hallowed by a nation's respect, and by the tears of 
 private friendship — and thus ends all that is eartlily 
 and perishable of him whose fame as an artist, as a 
 patronizer of the arts, and above all, as a good man, 
 will long survive him !" 
 
 As a token of respect and a pledge of remembrance, 
 a print engraved by Bartolozzi, was presented to each 
 of the gentlemen who had joined the procession. 
 
 It represented a female clasping an urn, a funeral 
 emblem of a weeping muse, (from the pencil of Bur- 
 ney) and on the monument are a pallet, pencils, and 
 a resting stick. The Genius of Painting is also 
 introduced, holding an inverted and extingtiished 
 torch, and pointing out to the monument, on which U 
 written, 
 
 " Succedet fama, vivusque perora feretur."
 
 so* MEMOIRS OF 
 
 Beneath is a conipliineutary address : and a fac 
 simile of the whole will be found at the close of these 
 Memoirs. The funeral expenses were in part defray- 
 ed out of the funds of the Koyal Academy. 
 
 The last will and testament of Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 liad been written not very long previous to his 
 decease, being dated on the 5th of November, 1791. 
 
 He had wiitten it with his own hand, and its be- 
 ginning M as extremely expressive of his own feelings 
 and sentiments on the subject, for he says, 
 
 " As it is probable that I may shortly be deprived 
 of sight, and may not have an opportunity of making 
 a formal will, I desire that the following memoran- 
 dums may be considered as my last will and testa- 
 ment. 
 
 *'■ I commend my soul to God, in humble hopes of 
 his mercy, and my body to the earth."' 
 
 All his property, real and personal, with the ex- 
 ceptions here recorded, he then bequeaths to his niece 
 Miss Palmer, now Marchioness of Thomond, in- 
 cluding his Richmond Villa, the house in Leicester- 
 fields, together with all property in the public funds, 
 pictures, books, furniture, plate, &c. 
 
 He then proceeds to specify his various legacies : 
 viz., to IVIrs. Gwatkins, 10,000/ in the three per 
 cents. ; to his sister. Miss Frances Reynolds, 2,500/ 
 in the funds for life, with the reversion to Miss 
 Palmer; to Mr. Burke, 2,000?, with the cancelling of 
 a bond of the same amount for money borrowed ; to 
 the Earl of Upper Ossory, the first choice, and to 
 Lord Palmerstone the second choice of any picture of 
 his own painting; to Sir Abraham Hume, Bart, the 
 choice of his Claude Lorraines; to Sir George Beau- 
 mont, Bart, the ^* Return of the Ark,'' by Sebastian 
 Bourdon; the sum of 200Z each to his executors, and 
 the same to Mr. Boswell, to be expended, if they 
 thought proper, in the purchase of a picture, to be 
 bought for each at the sale of his paintings, and to be 
 kept for his sake; his miniature of Milton> to Mr. 
 Mason ; one of Oliver Cromwell, by the same artist,
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 30g 
 
 {Cooper) to Richard Burke, Jan.; his watch and seals 
 to his nephew, AVilliam Johnson, then at Calcutta; 
 his picture of the Angel Contemplation, which formed 
 the upper part of the Nativity, to the Duke of Port- 
 land ; to Mrs, Bunbury, the portrait of her son ; to 
 Mrs. Gwyn, her own portrait, with a turban; 1,000^ 
 to his old and faithful servant, Ralph Kirkley, wlio 
 had lived with him upwards of tliirty years. 
 
 This is the principal purport of his will, which was 
 proved in Doctor's-Commonson the SSth of February ; 
 and the whole amount of cash and funded property 
 was, at least, 60,000/, Avhilst the liouses, pictures, &c., 
 were valued at 20,000/ more : a sum that fully proves 
 the high estimation in which he had professionally 
 been held, particularly when we consider the liberal 
 and hospitable manner in which the greatest part of 
 his life had been spent. 
 
 Completely to fill up the vacancy which the loss of 
 such a man produced in society, was impossible; Dr. 
 Douglas, Bishop of Salisbury, was selected to occupy 
 his scat in tiie Literary Club ; Mr. Laurence as prin- 
 cipal painter in ordinary to his Majesty; and Mr. 
 West, the present President of the Royal Academy, 
 was unanimously elected to fill the chair at Somerset- 
 place, on the 24th of March ; on which occasion ho 
 united a handsome tribute of praise towards his 
 deceased friend and predecessor, with his expression 
 of thanks for the honor conferred on him. 
 
 On tbe death of Sir Joshua, even those whose liClle 
 jealousies had contributed to give him some uneasiness 
 whilst living, all stood forward to make amends by 
 the warmest commendations ; amongst the rest wa» 
 Mr. Barry, wiio now gave a full scope to his more 
 gtncrous feelings, and about a year after\Yards, on 
 the IStli of February, 1/93, paid some very well 
 deserved compliments to his friend in his sixth Lecture 
 read at the Academy.* 
 
 * See Ban-ys works, vol. i. pages 552 to 557 .
 
 303 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 This just tribute to tlie memory of Sir Joshua, was 
 noticed by tlie Marquis and Marchioness of i honiond, 
 who, in order to mark their approval, presented him 
 with their estimable relative's painting-room chair. 
 I have preserved his answer, from its connection with 
 the present itself, and its containing an appropriate 
 compiiinent to the former lamented possessor. '^ Mr. 
 Barry presents his most respectful compliments to 
 Lord and Larly T. with every acknowledgment and 
 thanks for their inestimable favour conferred on him 
 this morning in the gift of Sir Joshua's chair. 
 
 '• Alas ! this chair, that had such a glorious career 
 of fortune, instrumental as it has been in giving the 
 most a Ivantageous stability to the otherwise fleeting, 
 perishable graces of a Lady Sarah Bunbury, or a 
 Waldegrave, or in perpetuating the negligent honest 
 exterior of the authors of the Rambler, the Traveller, 
 and almost every one to whom the public admiration 
 gave a currency for abilities, beauty, rank, or fashion. 
 
 *' The very chair that is immortalized in Mrs. 
 Siddon's Tragic Muse, where it will have as much 
 celebrity as the chair of Pindar, which for so many 
 ages was shewn in the porch atOlympia! This chair 
 of Sir Joshua Reynolds may rest well satisfied with 
 the reputation it has gained, and although its present 
 possessor may not be enabled to grace it with any 
 new ornament, yet it can surely count upon finding a 
 most affectionate, reverential conservator, whilst God 
 shall permit it to remain under his care." January 
 30ti), 179i. 
 
 Some time after the funeral, a copy of verses were 
 addressed to the Royal Academicians, written by the 
 beautiful Mrs. Robinson, whicii possess considerable 
 merit, but are. however, too long for insertion ; there- 
 fore, I shall make an extract of those lines only which 
 apply to the particular merits of Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 " Ye solemn mourners, who, with footsteps slow. 
 Prolonged the sable line of public woe;
 
 vSIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 307 
 
 Who fondly crowding round his plumed l)ier, 
 Gave to his worth, th' involuntary tear; 
 Ye children of his school, who oft have hung 
 On the grac'd precepts of his tuneful tongue; 
 Who many an hour in mute attention caught 
 Tire vivid lustre of his polished thought! 
 Ye who have felt, for ye have taste to feel, 
 The magic influence o'er your senses steal, 
 When eloquently chaste, from wisdom's page 
 He drew each model for a rising agS ! 
 Say, is no kind, no grateful tribute due. 
 To HIM who twin'd immortal wreaths for you ? 
 Who from the dawn of youth to manhood's prime 
 Snatch'd hidden beauties from the wings of time; 
 Who gave new lustre to your wond'riiig sight, 
 Drawn from the chaos of oblivious night; 
 Where chain'd by Ignorance, in Envy's cave, 
 The art he courted found a chilling grave; 
 Where native genius faded, unadmired, 
 While emulation's glorious flame expir'd. 
 Till Reynolds, braving Envy's recreant spell, 
 Dragg'd the huge monster from her thorny cell, 
 Who, shrinking from his mild benignant eye. 
 Subdued, to Stygian darkness fled to die. 
 
 Beneath yon lofty dome that props the skies 
 Low ' on the lap of earth' your patron lies; 
 Cold is the hand that gave the touch divine, > 
 Which bade the mimic orbs of reason shine : 
 Closed is that eye which beam'd with living light, 
 That gave the mental soul, to mortal sight I 
 For, by the matchless wonders of his art 
 The- outward mien bespoke the hidden heart! 
 Taste, feeling, character, his pencil knew, 
 And TRUTH acknowledged e'en what Fancy drew. 
 So, just to nature ev'ry part combin'd, 
 Ea.ch feature mark'd the tenor of the mind! 
 'Twas his with varying excellence to show 
 Stern manhood's dignity and beauty's glow! 
 To paint the perfect form, the witching face. 
 With Guido's softness, and with Titian's grace! 
 The dimpled cherub at the mother's breast, 
 The smile serene, that spoke the parent blest! 
 The Poet's vivid thought, that shone divine 
 Through the rich image of each finish'd line! 
 The tale that bids the tear of pity flow ; 
 The frenzied gaze of petrifying woe; 
 
 S R
 
 308 MPLMOIRS OF 
 
 The dying; fallier, fix'd in honor wilil, 
 O'er (he shrunk image of his famish'd child. 
 
 Ah ! STAY MY MusF, — ttor trace the madd'ning scene, 
 
 Nor paint the starting eye, the frantic mien ; 
 
 Turn from the pirture of distracting woes, 
 
 'i'lirn from eacli charm that beauty's smile bestows, 
 
 Go form a wreath Time's temple to adorn, 
 
 Bedeck'd with many a rose — with many a thorn '. 
 
 (io, bind the hero's brow with deathless bays , 
 
 Or, to calm friend-hip chaunt the note of praise: 
 
 Or, with a feather stol'n from Fancy's wing. 
 
 Sweep with light hand the "ay fantastic string ; 
 
 But leave, oh, leave thy fond lamenting song, 
 
 The feeble echo of a wond'i ing throng — 
 
 Cans't thou with briiihter tints adorn the rose, 
 
 Where nature's vivid blush divinely glows? 
 
 Say cans't ihou add one ray to hea\eu's own light, 
 
 Or give to Alpine snow a purer white? 
 
 Cans't thou increase the diamond's burning glow, 
 
 Or to the flower a richer scent bestow? 
 
 bay cans't thou snatch, by sympathy sublime, 
 
 One kindred bosom from the grasp of Time ? 
 
 Ah! no! then bend with cypress boughs thy lyre, 
 
 Mute be its chords, and quench'd its sacred nre. 
 
 For dimly gleams the poet's votive lays 
 
 Midst the vast splendor of a nation's praise." 
 
 To sura up the whole of Sir Joshua's character as 
 a professional man, it may be observed that when we 
 contemplate him as a painter, we are to recollect, that 
 after the death of Kneller, the arts in England fell to 
 the lowest state of barbarism, and each professor 
 either followed that painter's steps, or else wandered 
 in utter darkness, till Reynolds, like the sun, dis- 
 pelled the mist, and threw an unprecedented splendor 
 on the department of portraiture. Hence the English 
 ?>chool is, in a great degree, the growth of his admira- 
 ble example. 
 
 To the grandeur, the truth, and simplicity of Titian, 
 and to the daring strength of Rembrandt, he has 
 united the chasteness and delicacy of Vandyke. De- 
 lighted with tlie picturesque beauties of Rubens, he 
 Mas the first that attempted a bright and gay back
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 309 
 
 ground to portraits; and defying the dull and ignorant 
 rules of his master, at a very early perioil of life, 
 emancipated his art from the shackles with which it 
 had been encumbered in the school of Hudson. There 
 is, however, every reason to believe, that he very 
 rarely copied an entire picture of any master,* thougli 
 he certainly did imitate the excellent parts of many; 
 and his versatility in this respect was etpialled only 
 by the susceptibility of his feelings, tlie quickness of 
 his comprehension, and the ardor which prompted his 
 efforts. His pictures in general possess a degree of 
 merit superior to mere portraits, they assuuie tlie rank 
 of history. His portraits of men are distinguished by 
 a certain air of dignity, and those of women and 
 children by a grace, a beauty, and simplicity, which 
 have seldom been equalled, and never surpassed. jNo 
 painter ever gave so completely, as himself, that 
 momentary facinating expression, that irresistible 
 charm, which accompanies and denotes " the Cynthia 
 of the minute." In his attempts to give character 
 where it did not exist, he has sometimes lost likeness ; 
 but the deficiencies of the portrait were often com- 
 pensated by the beauty of the picture. 
 
 The attitudes of his figures are generally full of 
 grace, ease, and propriety; he could throw them into 
 the boldest variations, and he often ventures on 
 postures, which inferior painters could not execute; 
 or which, if attempted, would inevitably destroy their 
 credit. His chief aim, however, was culoar and effect; 
 and these he always varied as the subject required. 
 Whatever deficiencies there may be in the design of 
 this great master, no one at any period better uuder- 
 
 * Of the few copies he made at Rome the only finished one 
 is St. Michael, the Archangel, chaining the dragon, after Guido. 
 This copy he placed ui the ceiling of his Picture Gallery, where 
 it remained till his death. It was then taken down by his niece, 
 and heiress, when she left that house. 
 
 He made a small copy ofthe School of Athens, from Raffaelle; 
 also about eight or ten heads selected from RaBaeile in the 
 Vatican, and a head or two from Titian.
 
 310 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 stood the principles of colouring: nor can it be doubted 
 that he carried this branch of his art to a very high 
 degree of perfection. His lights display the knowledge 
 he possessed, and with shade he conceals his defects. 
 Whether we consider the power, the brilliancy, or the 
 form of liis lights, the transparency of his shadows, 
 with the just quantities of each, and the harmony, 
 richness, and full efl'ect of the whole, it is evident that 
 he has not only far transcended every modern master, 
 but that his excellencies in these captivating parts of 
 painting, vie with the works of the great models he 
 has emulated. The opinion he has given of RaftaeDe 
 may, with equal justice, be applied to himself; ^^ that 
 his materials were generally borrowed, but the noble 
 structure was his own." No one ever appropriated 
 the ideas of others to his own purpose with more skill 
 than Sir Joshua. He possessed the alchemy of paint- 
 ing, by converting whatever he touched into gold. 
 Like the bee that extracts sweets from the most 
 noxious flowers, so his active observation could see 
 every thing pregnant with a means of improvement, 
 from tjje wooden print on a common ballad, to the 
 highest graces of Parmegiano. Perhaps there is no 
 painter that ever went before him, from whom he has 
 not derived some advantage, and appropriated certain 
 excellencies with judicious selection and consummate 
 taste. Yet after all that can be alledged against him as 
 a borrower of forms from other masters, it must be al- 
 lowed that he engrafted on them beauties peculiarly his 
 own. The severest critics, indeed, must admit that his 
 manner is truly original, bold, and free. Freedom is 
 certainly one of his principal characteristics; and to 
 this he seems often to have sacrificed every other con- 
 sideration. He lias, however, two manners ; his early 
 pictures are without those violent freedoms of execu- 
 tion and dashes of the pencil, being more minute and 
 more fearful, but the colouring is clear, natural and 
 good. In his latter and bolder works, the colour, 
 though excellent, is sometimes more artificial than 
 rhastc.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 31 1 
 
 As an Historical painter, he cannot be placeil in the 
 same rank which he holds in tlie line of portraiture. 
 The compositions of his portraits are unqucst}<)nably 
 excellent, whilst his historical pictures are, in tliis 
 respect, often very defective. They frequently con- 
 sist of borrowed parts, which are not always suited to 
 each other. Though many times inaccurate, and de- 
 ficient in the style of drawing, they must however, be 
 allowed to possess great breadth, taste, and feeling, 
 and many of them fine expression. His light poetical 
 pieces much excelled those of a narrative or historical 
 character. 
 
 There is a circumstance contained in one of liis 
 fragments of an intended discourse, preserved by Mr. 
 Malone, in which he says, *' It has frequently Ij^)- 
 pened, as I was informed by the keeper of the Vati- 
 can, that many of those whom he had conducted 
 through the various apartments of that edifice, when 
 about to be dismissed, have asked for the works of 
 Raifaelle, and would not believe that they had al- 
 ready passed through the rooms where they are 
 preserved ; so little impression had those performances 
 made on them. One of the first painters now in France 
 once told me, that this circumstance happened to him- 
 self; though he now looks on Raffaelle with the ven- 
 eration which he deserves from all painters and lovers 
 of the art. 
 
 '^ I remember very well my own disappointment, 
 when I first visited tlie Vatican ; but on confessing my 
 feelings to a brother student, of whose ingenuousness 
 I had a high opinion, he acknowledged that the 
 works of Raffaelle had tlie same effect on him ; or, 
 rather, that they did not produce the effect which he 
 expected. This was a great relief to my mind ; and 
 on enquiring further, of other students, I found that 
 those persons only who, from natural imbecility, ap- 
 peared to be incapable of ever relishing those divine 
 performances, made pretensions to instantaneous rap- 
 tures on first beholding tiiem. In justice to myself, 
 however, I must add, that though disappointed and
 
 313 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 mortified at not finding myself enraptured with the 
 works of this great man, I did not for a moment con- 
 ceive or suppose that the name of Raflaelle, and those 
 admirable paintings in particular, owed their reputa- 
 tion to the ignorance and prejudice of mankind; ou 
 the contrary, my not relishing them, as I was con- 
 scious I ought to have done, was one of the most 
 liumiliating circumstances that ever happened to me ; 
 I found myself in the midst of works executed upon 
 principles wiih which I was unacquainted : I felt my 
 ignorance, and stood abashed. All the indigested 
 notions of painting which I had brought with me 
 from England, where the art was in the lowest state 
 it had ever been in, (it could not, indeed, be lower,) 
 were to be totally done away, and eradicated from my 
 mind. It was necessary, as ii is expressed on a very 
 solemn occasion, that 1 should become as a little child. 
 Notwithstanding my disappointment, I proceeded to 
 copy some of those excellent works. I viewed them 
 again and again; I even affected to feel their merit ; 
 and to admire them more than I really did. In a short 
 time a new taste and new perception began to dawn 
 upon rac; and I was convinced that I had originally 
 formed a false opinion of the perfection of art, and 
 that this great painter was well entitled to the high 
 rank w hicli he holds in the estimation of the world. 
 The trutli is, that if these works had really been what 
 I expected, they would have contained beauties super- 
 ficial and alluring, but by no means such as would 
 have entitled them to the great reputation which they 
 have so long and so justly obtained." 
 
 Considering the study and practice Reynolds must 
 have gone through before he visited Italy, he certainly 
 was, in comparison with others, a man of a cullivated 
 taste ; and, though what has been said may be very 
 true, that many persons, after having been conducted 
 through the rooms of the Vatican, have turned to the 
 keeper, and asked him for the paintings of Raffaelle, 
 yet it is not easy to conceive how he, who probably 
 had seen the cartoons, and other pictures, besides
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 3I5 
 
 prints from this great painter, slutuld have formed 
 such an inadequate, and erroneous idea of what he was 
 to sec at Rome. Splendor of colour, depth of chiaro- 
 scuro, he must have been taugiit not to expect; strength 
 and dignity of character, unexampled variety, and 
 vivacity of expression, (qualities more striking to (lie 
 eye of taste, and scarcely less so to the vulg.ir,) thry 
 certainly possess. To what, then, can he attributed 
 their want of impression, particularly on such as him? 
 It does not appear that the same complaint Ik s been 
 made of the works of Michael Angelo. 
 
 That, which in his discourses he denominates the 
 ornamental style, and which he treats in liis writings 
 with so much severity, seems to have been the very 
 style which it was his constant endeavour to attain, 
 and which it may be said he did attain in an unex- 
 ampled degree ; while the excellencies of the grand 
 style, its severe and majestic simplicity, he seems not 
 to have been inclined to attempt, although so great an 
 admirer of it, that even its defects are deemed beauties 
 in his eyes; whilst its dryness and hardness of man- 
 ner, and an inharmonious effect, frequently proceeding 
 from a want of skill in the painter, he contemplates 
 altogether with enthusiastic admiration. His theory 
 and his practice are evidenty at variance; he speaks 
 of the cold painters of portraits, and ranks them on a 
 level with the epigrammatist and sonnetteer, yet de- 
 voted his life to portraits. How to account for this 
 dereliction of his theory may be difficult; the reason 
 given by himself was, that he adapted his style to the 
 taste of the age in which he lived ; and again, that a 
 man does not always do what he would, but what he 
 can. 
 
 My own opinion is, that his mind by nature was 
 constituted more for the cultivation of that which 
 belongs to the beautiful and the graceful, than of those 
 qualities which compose the terrible or the sublime, 
 and that the style of Michael Angelo which he seems 
 to have lamented that he did not adopt in his youth, 
 was not that style to which he could, with most advan-
 
 Sil MEMOIRS OF 
 
 tage to himself, have devoted his studies; yet it must 
 ever remain a doubt, whether he could or could not 
 have succeeded in the highest style, if the opportunity 
 had been oflfercd to liira. All that we can say of him 
 is, that he had done full enough to prove that he was a 
 very great genius, as he is an example of the most 
 perfect growtli that English culture can produce ; and 
 from the means which he had he has accomplished 
 tliat end, and availed himself of that patronage which 
 is in the hands of an infinity of persons to bestow. 
 
 But that great style, which he so properly had 
 made his idol, and appeared to adore, a style which 
 never can exist in its fullness but in countries where 
 the religion, or the government, or both together, are 
 its patrons — it is an article totally useless and unfit in 
 respect to the habits of private life, and in this country 
 held as very disagreeable; and had Rairaelle or 
 Michael Angelo been born in England, they would, 
 perhaps, have been far greater than Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, and most undoubtedly would have ac- 
 quired great fame; but they would have been known 
 only as illustrious portrait painters even to themselves. 
 
 'J he grand style is an instrument fit only to be in 
 the hands of government, civil or religious, and only 
 proper for solemn occasions. It is not to be the subject 
 of vulgar criticism ; it is to command, to guide, and to 
 direct the heart, and such are the uses the church of 
 Rome have made of it. 
 
 The lectures which he delivered at the Royal 
 Academy on the 10th of December, at first every year, 
 and latterl}'^ every two years, are the works which 
 chiefly bestow on him tlie cliaracter of an estimable 
 writer. In these he treats his favourite art with the 
 depth of a philosopher, the accomplishments of a 
 scholar, and t!ie accuracy of a critic. These were 
 designed to animate and direct the students in the 
 pursuit of excellence, and indeed are replete with the 
 soundest instructions, expressed in language at once 
 natural;, perspicuous, and correct.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 315 
 
 The profound knowledge of the art displayed in 
 these discourses is enriched by the classical and 
 appropriate illustrations of a polisiied mind ; they are 
 treasures of information to the student and to the 
 proficient; and the elegance and chastity of the style 
 have very rarely, if ever, been equalled by the most 
 eminent of our writers. His observations on the 
 old masters are equally just and ingenius; several 
 branches of the theory of art are treated with un- 
 common judgment and ability, and the composition 
 throughout is strongly marked by the simplicity of his 
 own individual character and manner, and totally 
 unlike that of any of his literary friends, to wiiofii 
 some idle critics have attributed tlic merit of those 
 discourses. They have been translated into French, 
 and the late Mr. Barretti published an edition of them 
 in the Italian language. 
 
 It has been conjectured that Sir Joshua was not 
 the author of the discourses which he delivered at the 
 Royal Academy. 
 
 I can only say that at the periods when it was 
 expected he should have composed them, I have 
 heard him walking at intervals in his room as if in 
 meditation, till one or two o'clock in the morning, 
 and have on the following morning, at an early 
 hour, seen the papers on the subject of his art 
 which had been written on the preceding night. I 
 have had the rude manuscript from himself in his own 
 hand writing, in order to make a fiiir copy from it 
 for him, to read it in public; I have seen the manu- 
 script also after it had been revised by Dr. Joluison, 
 who has sometimes altered it to a wrong meaning, 
 from his total ignorance of the subject and of art; but 
 never to my knowledge saw the marks of Burke's pen 
 on any of the manuscripts. 
 
 I remember one day in particular, after Sir Je^ia 
 had been studying the preceding night, Burke paid 
 him a morning visit, and at that time I was at work 
 in the adjoining room, and could easily overhear their 
 conversation, which; as Sir Joshua was deaf, was 
 
 Tt
 
 316 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 very distinct; and lie read aloud to Buike tlie fol- 
 lowing paragraph of liis discourse for December the 
 
 lotii, 179 1. 
 
 " Like a sovereign judge and arbiter of art," (al- 
 luding to the painter,) '' lie is possessed of that pre- 
 siding power which separates and attracts every ex- 
 cellence from every school ; selects both from w hat is 
 great and what is little, brings home knowledge from 
 the east and from the west ; making the universe 
 tributary tow ards furnishing his mind and enriching 
 Lis works with originality and variety of invention." 
 
 Burke commended it in tlie higliest terms saying, 
 ^' This is, indeed, excellent, nobody can mend it, no 
 man could say it better.*' 
 
 Yet, I mast confess, it is wonderful, that a man, 
 whose time was so entirely absorbed in the practical 
 acquirements of his art, and who could not be ranked 
 as a man eminent for literature, should compose such 
 prose as good judges have pronounced to be amongst 
 the highest examples in our language. 
 
 The Bishop of Rochester, who has examined the 
 writings of Mr. Burke since his death, and has lately 
 edited a part of them, informed a friend that he could 
 discover no reason to think that Mr. Burke had the 
 least hand in the discourses of Reynolds : nor can I 
 pay any attention to what Mr. Courtenay says in his 
 ^' Moral and Literary Character of Dr. Johnson," 
 where he seems to think that Reynolds copied from 
 the latter, or imitated him. 
 
 " To Fame's proud cliff, he bade onr RafFaelle rise, 
 Hence Reynolds' pen with Reynolds' pencil vies." 
 
 Mr. M*Cormick also asserts, that Burke wrote his 
 letter in J 790, when he retired from the chair; but I 
 trust there is sufficient evidence already adduced, to 
 prove that those opinions are totally erroneous.
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 317 
 
 EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM E. BURKE, 
 TO MR. MALOXE. 
 
 '^ I have read over some part of the discoiuses with 
 an unusual sort of pleasure; partly because, beins; 
 faded a little in my memory, they have a sort of ap- 
 pearance of novelty; partly by reviving reeollection* 
 mixed with melanclioly and satisfaction. The Flemish 
 Journal I had never seen before. You trace in tiiat, 
 every where, the spirit of the discourses, supported by 
 new examples. He is always the same man ; the 
 same philosophical, the same artist-like critic, the 
 same sagacious observer, with tlie same minuteness, 
 without the smallest degree of trifling." 
 
 Before I quit tlie subject of these discourses of Sir 
 Joshua, I cannot refrain from giving the opinion of the 
 Chevalier Mengs on them, whether because he had 
 not the capacity to compreliend them, or from the 
 effect of envy I cannot determine, but this Alengs 
 gays, " That the book of the English Reynolds would 
 lead youth into error, because it abandons them to 
 superficial principles, the only ones known to that 
 author." 
 
 This criticism from Mengs raised the choler of 
 our English poet, Cumberland, and he thus retorts the 
 charge to the great annoyance of the Chevalier Don 
 Joseph Nicholas D'Azara, Spanish minister at Rome, 
 and the Editor of Menge's manuscripts, also Ids 
 adorer. 
 
 " If the genius of Mengs," says Cumberland, 
 *^ had been capable of producing a composition equal 
 to that of the tragic and pathetic Ugolino, I am per- 
 suaded such a sentence as the above would never iiave 
 passed his lips ; but flattery made him vain, and 
 sickness rendered him peevish: he found himself in 
 Madrid, in a country without rivals, and because the 
 Arts had travelled out of his sight, he was disposed 
 to think they existed no where but on his own palette. 
 The time perhaps is at hand when our virtuosi will
 
 318 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 extend their route to Spain, and of these some one 
 probably will be found, wlio, regarding with just in- 
 dignation the dogmatical decrees of Alengs, will take 
 ill hand the examination of his paintings, which I 
 have enumerated: and we may then be told, with the 
 authority of science, that his nativity though so splen- 
 didly encased, and covered with such care that the 
 very winds of Heaven are not permitted to visit the 
 face too rouglily, would have owed more to the 
 chrystal than it does, in some parts- at least, had it 
 been less transparent than it is; that it discovers an 
 abortive and puisne Bambino, which seems copied 
 from a bottle; that Mengs was an artist who had seen 
 much, and invented little ; that he dispenses neither 
 life nor death to his figures ; excites no terror, rouses 
 no passions, and risks no iiights ; that by studying to 
 avoid particular delects, he incurs general ones, and 
 paints with tameuess and servility; that the contrasted 
 scale and idea of a painter of miniatures, as which he 
 was brought up, is to be traced in all, or most of his 
 compositions, in which a finished delicacy of the 
 pencil exhibits the hand of the artist, but gives no 
 emanations of the soul of the master ; if it is beauty it 
 does not warm : if it is sorrow it excites no pity : that, 
 when the angel announces the salutation to Mary, it 
 is a messenger tliat has neither used dispatch in the 
 errand, nor grace in the delivery : that although 
 Rubens was by one of his orjicular sayings con- 
 demned to the ignominious dullness of a Dutch trans- 
 lator, Mengs was as capable of painting llubens's 
 adoration, as he was of creatius; the star in the East 
 that ushered the Magi : but these are questions above 
 my capacity ; I resign Mengs to abler critics, and 
 Reynolds to better defenders ; well contented that 
 posterity should admire them both, and well assured 
 that the fame of our countryman is established beyond 
 the reach of envy and detraction.*' 
 
 I have given this long quotation from Cumberland, 
 because in m^' apprehension it contains a true and 
 candid estimate of the talents of Mengs, of him who
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 3I9 
 
 treats the works of Rubens and of Reynolds with 
 contempt. Cumberland thus adds, " Yet Meni^s is 
 the author whom courtly prejudice has put above com- 
 parison in Spain, whom not to admire is treason 
 against the state, and whose worship is become 
 canonical, a part almost of the orthodox idolatry of 
 their religion." 
 
 With respect to his character as a man, to say that 
 Sir Joshua was without faults, would be to bestow on 
 him that praise, to which no human being can have a 
 claim; but when we consider the conspicuous situa- 
 tion in which he stood, it is surprizing to find that so 
 few can be discovered in him: and certainly he pos- 
 sessed an equanimity of disposition very rarely to be 
 niet with in persons whose pursuit is universal reputa- 
 tion, and who are attended and surrounded in their 
 perilous journey by jealous competition. ** His native 
 humility, modesty, and candour never forsook him, 
 even from suprize or provocation, nor was the least 
 degree of arrogance or assumption visible to the most 
 scrutinizing eye in any part of his conduct." He was 
 not annoyed by that fluctuation of idea and incon- 
 stancy of temper which prevent many with equal 
 desire for fame from resolving upon any particular 
 plan, and dispose them to change it, even after tliey 
 have made their election. He had none of those 
 eccentric bursts of action, those fiery impetuosities 
 which are supposed by the vulgar to characterize 
 genius, and which frequently are found to accompany 
 a secondary rank of talent, but are never conjoined 
 with the first. His incessant industry was never 
 wearied into despondency by miscarriage, nor elated 
 into negligence by success. All nature and all art 
 combined to form his academy. His mind was con- 
 stantly awake, ever on the wiug, comprehensive, 
 vigorous, discriminating, and retentive. His powers 
 of attention were never torpid. He had a strong turn 
 and relish for humour in all its various forms, and 
 very quickly saw the weak sides of things. 01" the 
 numerous characters which presented themselves to
 
 320 MEMOIRS OF 
 
 liim in the mixed companies in which he lived, he 
 was a nice and sagacious observer, as I have had 
 frequent occasions to remark. 
 
 " The Graces," says a certain author, " after 
 wandering to find a home, settled in the bosom of 
 Addison.-' I think such a compliment would be 
 equally, if not more applicable to Sir Joshua ; for all 
 he said or did was Avholly unmixed with any of those 
 inelegant coarsenesses which frequently stain the 
 beauty of high exertions. There was a polish even 
 in his exterior, illustrative of the gentleman and the 
 scholar. His general manner, deportment and be- 
 haviour, were amiable and prepossessing; his dis- 
 position was naturally courtly. He always evinced a 
 desire to pay due respect to persons in superior 
 stations, and certainly contrived to move in a higher 
 sphere of society than any other English artist had 
 done before him. Thus he procured for Professors 
 of the Arts a consequence, dignity, and reception, 
 which they never before possessed in this country. 
 In conversation he preserved an equable flow of spirits, 
 which had rendered him at all times a most desirable 
 companion, ever ready to be amused, and to con- 
 tribute to the amusement of others. He practised the 
 minute elegancies, and, though latterly a deaf com- 
 panion, was never troublesome.* 
 
 Although easy and complying in his intercourse 
 with the world, yet in his profession, having, by un- 
 remitting study, matured his judgment, he never 
 sacrificed his opinion to the casual caprices of his em- 
 ployers, and without seeming to oppose theirs, still 
 followed his own. He had temper to bear with the de- 
 fects of others, as well as capacity to understand their 
 good qualities, and he possessed that rare wisdom 
 which consists in a thorough knowledge, not only of 
 the real value of things, but of the genius of the age 
 
 * His deafness, I have been informed, first came upon him 
 from a cold which he caught by his intense application in the 
 winter season; in the unaired rooms of Raftaelle in the Vatican.
 
 KIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. S2i 
 
 lie lived in, and of the characters and prejudices of 
 those about him. 
 
 Far from over-rating his own talents, he did not 
 seem to hold them in that degree of estimation which 
 they deservedly obtained froui the public. In short, 
 it may be safely said, that his faults were few, and 
 that those were much subdued by his wisdom, for no 
 man had ever more reverence for virtue, or a higher 
 respect for unsullied fame. 
 
 As to his person; in stature Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 was rather under the middle size, of a florid com- 
 plexion, roundish blunt features, and a lively aspect; 
 not corpulent, though somewhat inclined to it, but 
 extremely active; with manners uncommonly polished 
 and agreeable. 
 
 In conversation, his manner was perfectly natural, 
 simple, and unassuming. He most heartily enjoyed 
 his profession, in which he was both fortunate and 
 illustrious, and I agree with Mr. Malone who says 
 he appeared to him to be the happiest man he had 
 ever known. He was thoroughly sensible of his rare 
 lot in life and truly thankful for it ; his virtues were 
 blessed with their full reward. 
 
 It is a common, but a just observation, that virtue 
 cannot exist where irregularity is present ; and the 
 converse is true as applied to Sir Joshua's mode of 
 life, which was so regular as to produce correctness 
 without degenerating into insipidity, or tediousness to 
 his friends by unnecessary and troublesome precision. 
 
 Rising at eight o'clock in general, he was enabled 
 to retire from the breakfast table to his painting room 
 about ten, where, for an hour at least, he occupied 
 himself in arranging the subordinate accessories in 
 such of his works as he was tlien engaged in, or 
 perhaps in preserving some new ideas by a sketch. 
 
 The hours dedicated to his sitters were generally 
 from eleven to four, but not with rigid attention, as he 
 often gave a relaxation to his mind by receiving the 
 visits of particular friends. Yet upon the whole, his 
 application was great, nay, in some measure, ex-
 
 S2?i mp:moirs of 
 
 cessivc; for it is very true, as he himself observetl to 
 IVIalone. that such >vas his h)vc «!' his art, ami such 
 his ardour to excel, tliat he liad often and tluriiiii; the 
 greater part of his life, laboured as hard with his 
 pencil, as any mechanic working; at his trade for 
 bread. 
 
 Considering; (he hospitable elea;ance of his own 
 table, and tiie number of his friends, it is not to be 
 wondered at that his invitations to other tables were 
 pretty numerous. Of these, however, he seldom ac- 
 cepted more tium two in the week, during the winter; 
 and though his regulated plan was to have his friends 
 once at home during the same period, yet it frequently 
 happened that his table was tilled much oftener by 
 the most estimable and remarkable men in public life. 
 In such companies, intellectual pleasures must be 
 considered as the most important : yet neither he nor 
 liis friends disdained the good things which affluence 
 could provide, and of course every elegance and every 
 luxury were always to be found there in moderation. 
 
 Mr. Malone draws the comparison between the 
 character of Ltelius as given by Mr. Melmoth, and 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, which seems in many respects 
 to be singularly similar, but too long for insertion: 
 here 1 shall only give the concluding part, which 
 says — 
 
 '» In public estimation, in uniform success in life, 
 in moderation, in prosperity, in the applause and 
 admiration of contemporaries, in simplicity of manners 
 and playfulness of humour, in good sense and elegant 
 attainments, in modesty and equability of temper, in 
 undeviating integrity, in respect for received and 
 long-established opinions, in serenity, cheerfulness, 
 and urbanity, the resemblance must be allowed to be 
 uncommonly striking and exact." 
 
 As before observed, Sir Joshua had many pupils 
 who resided for years under his roof. It is a sur- 
 prizing fact, however, that scarcely any of their 
 names have been heard of as painters. Most of them 
 have pined in poverty and died in want, miserable to
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 323 
 
 themselves, and a disgrace to the art. To account for 
 this seeming paradox many reasons may he assigned. 
 First, the vast difficulties of the art of painting render 
 its higher liranches unattainable to nine-tentiis of 
 those persons who profess, or pretend to study it: 
 Secondly, Sir Joshua, never having received a well- 
 founded education in the academies of art, was forced 
 to make his own way by the strength of his genius 
 and unwearied industry : hence those excellencies 
 which he possessed could not be imparted or taught 
 to another, and what could be taught he did not 
 sufficiently possess, it is art which the scholar is to 
 learn, and not genius. Sir Joshua seems to have 
 disdained the rules of art, and may he said to have 
 snatched a grace beyond them. But the young painter 
 who daubs because he fancies Sir Josiiua daubed, is 
 like the fool who purchased the lamp of Epictetus. 
 The best reason that can be assigned for his having a 
 more enlarged notion of grace and gieatness than his 
 contemporaries is, that he had more information and 
 understanding than they. A vulgar man may acquire 
 what is termed cleverness, but cannot arrive at great- 
 ness; which can only be attained by him, who unites 
 general information witii taste and feeling. 
 
 Along with other various tributes to the memory of 
 departed excellence, we must not omit t!je following 
 extract from Mr. Sotheby's poetical epistle to Sir 
 George Beaumont, in which the subject of our biog- 
 raphy is so elegantly characterized, and which has 
 been published since his death. 
 
 < Hail ! guide and glory of the British school, 
 Whose magic line gave life to every rule. 
 Reynolds! they portraits, true to nature, glow'd 
 Yet o'er the whole iiieal graces fiow'd; 
 While forth to sight the living likeness came, 
 Souls touch'd by genius, felt thy higher aim: 
 Here, where the public gaz,e a biddons vie'tvi, 
 See fear and pity crown the Tragic muse. 
 There, girt with flames, where Calpe gleams afar, 
 In dauntless Heathfield hail the god of war. 
 u u
 
 324 iMEMOlRS OF 
 
 Painter of grace! Love gave to thee alone, 
 Corregio's melting line, with Titian's tone, 
 , Bade beauty wear all forms that breathe delight, 
 And a new charm in each attract the sigiit : 
 Here a wild Thais wave the blazing brand, 
 There yield her zone to Cupid's treach'rous hand, 
 An empress melt the pearl in Egypt's bowl, 
 Or a sly gypsey read the tell tale soul. 
 Painter of passion ! horror in thy view 
 Pour'd the wild scenes that daring Shakspeare drew 
 AVhen the fiend scowl'd on Beaufort's bed of death, 
 And each weird hag 'mid lightnings hail'd Macbeth. 
 
 Tiiee Dante led to Famine's murky cave ; 
 *' Round yon mute father hear his children rave: 
 " Behold tiiem stretch'd beneath his stony eye, 
 " Drop one by one, and gaze on him, and die ; 
 " So strain each starting ball in sightless stare, 
 " And each grim feature fix in stern despair.'* 
 
 No earth-born giant struggling into size, 
 
 Stretch'd in thy canvas, sprawls before our eyes, 
 
 The mind applies its standard to the scene, 
 
 Notes with mute awe, the niore than mortal mien, 
 
 A\ here boundless genius brooding o'er the whole, 
 
 Stamps e'en on babes sublimity of soul. 
 
 Whether, where terror crowns Jove's infant brow, 
 
 Before tiie God-head aw'd Olympus bow, 
 
 Or in yon babe, tir Herculean strength upholds 
 
 Th' enormous snakes, and slacks their length'ning folds ; 
 
 Or while, from Heav'n, celestial Grace descends, 
 
 Meek on his knees the infant Samuel bends, 
 
 Lifts his clasp'd hands, and as he glows in prayer. 
 
 Fixes in awful trance his eye on air. 
 
 Yet not fair forms, by Reynolds' liand designed. 
 No, nor his magic pen, that paints the mind ; 
 That pen, which erst on charm'd ilyssus' shore 
 Th' exulting Graces to their Plato bore, 
 When Fancy wove, for Trutli, iier fairest flow'rs; 
 And wisdom commun'd with the Muse's bow'rs j 
 Not these suflice ' 
 
 Little remains now to add, only, that in the year 
 ^793 that line collection of pictures of the ancient 
 masters, which Sir Joshua had so judiciously amas-
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 3^3 
 
 sed, actually fetched the sum of 10,319?. 2s. M. ; 
 whilst, in the succeeding year, various historical and 
 fancy pictures of his own painting, accompanied by 
 some unclaimed portraits, were s«>ld for 4,505/. 18s. ; 
 these sums were independent of his most valuable 
 collection of prints and drawings, which since that 
 have come to the hammar. 
 
 That such a man as Sir Joshua Reynolds should 
 not yet have had a monument erected to his memory, 
 may seem a kind of public disgrace; I am pleased, 
 however to mention, that in the early part of 1807 his 
 friends and admirers came to a determination to per- 
 form that duty, for which a distinguished place has 
 been appropriated liy the Dean and Chapter of St. 
 Paul's, in their Cathedral. 
 
 The model has already been exhibited at Somerset- 
 house, and the monument is in progress of execution 
 by Mr. Flaxman. 
 
 It may seem superfluous to present readers to men- 
 tion that in the present year (1813) a Commemora- 
 tion of his talents has been celebrated by the " British 
 Institution," in which tliey have been most liberally 
 aided by the patriotic kindness of a considerable part of 
 the possessors of specimens of Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
 pencil; a most brilliant collection of his works being 
 thus exhibited at the rooms of the institution, late the 
 Shakspeare Gallery : but, if this work descend to 
 posterity, though not so lasting as his ftime, it may be 
 proper that I should here close these Memoirs with 
 also noticing, that in the room in which the company 
 dined, at its opening — a dinner liighly honoured by 
 the presence of the Prince Regent, numerous nobility, 
 and eminent artists — a small whole length model of 
 this great painter was placed at the head of the room, 
 and accompanied by the following inscription from 
 the pen of 11. P. Knight, Esq. :
 
 826 MEMOIRS &c. 
 
 ^^ Joshua Reynolds 
 
 Pictorutn sui seculi facile principi. 
 
 Et splendore ct comraissuris ColoruiUj 
 
 Alternis vicibus Luminis et Umbrae 
 
 Sesc mutuo excitantium, 
 
 Vix uUi Vetcrum secundo: 
 
 Quij cum summa artis, gloria modeste uteretur, 
 
 Et morum suavitate et vitsa elegantia 
 
 Perinde commendaretur; 
 
 Artem etiam ipsam, per orbem tcrrarum, 
 
 Langueotur et prope inter mortuam 
 
 Exemplis egregie venustis suscitavit, 
 
 Prseceptis exquisite conscriptis illustravit, 
 
 Atque emendationera et expolitiorera, 
 
 Posteris exerceudam tradidit; 
 
 Laudem ejus fautores et amici 
 
 Hanc eflfigiem posucruiit. 
 
 MDCCCXIII. 
 
 To Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 
 Confessedly the first artist of his time: 
 
 Scarcely inferior to any of tlie Ancients, 
 
 In the splendour and combination of colours, 
 
 In the alternate succession of light and shade^ 
 
 Mutually displaying each other: 
 
 Who, whilst he enjoyed with modesty the first 
 
 lionours of his Art, 
 
 Was equally commended 
 
 For the suavity of his manners and the elegance 
 
 of his mind: 
 
 Who restored, by his highly beautiful models, 
 
 The Art itself, languishing and almost extinguished 
 
 In every part of the Avorld ; 
 
 Who illustrated it by the admirable precepts contained 
 
 In his writings, 
 
 And transmitted it in a correct and refined state 
 
 To be cultivated by posterity ; 
 
 The friends and admirers of his Talents 
 
 Have raised this monument. 
 
 1813.
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM GANDY. 
 
 As there is no record of this William Gandy pre- 
 served iu any manner but what he has formed for 
 himself by his pictures, which being without his name 
 marked on them are known but to few, and thus will 
 soon be wholly unknown, I cannot resist the impulse 
 of preserving the small record which tradition gives of 
 him as a just tribute to his memory before it is too 
 late, and thus be lost forever. This must be an ex- 
 cuse for the adding of a subject which at first sight 
 may seem unconnected with our present plan ; but will 
 have this good eifect^ at least, that by pointing him 
 out as one admired both by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller (in whose time he lived) it may 
 be the means of preserving many of his works which 
 otherwise might have been destroyed by those ignorant 
 of their merit. 
 
 William Gandy was an itinerant painter in the 
 county of Devon, where he lived and died ; but it is 
 uncertain whether he was a native of that county. He 
 was a son of James Gandy, of whom Pilkington in his 
 Dictionary of the Painters gives the following ac 
 count :
 
 328 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ^' James Grandy, painted portrait. 
 Died 1689, aged 70. 
 
 " This painter, although lie was a very able artist, 
 is but little known ; he Avas born in the year 1619, and 
 instructed by Vandyke, and his works are a sufficient 
 proof of the signal improvement he received from the 
 precepts and example of that great master. 
 
 " Tlie cause of his being so totally unknown was, 
 bis being brought into Ireland by the old Duke of 
 Ormond, and retained in his service ; and as Ireland 
 was at that time in a very unsettled condition, the 
 merit and memory of this master would have been 
 entirely unnoticed, if some of his performances, which 
 still subsist, had not prese/ved him from oblivion. 
 There are at this time in Ireland many portraits 
 painted by him of noblemen and persons of fortune, 
 which are very little inferior to Vandyke either for 
 expression, colouring, or dignity; and several of his 
 copies after Vandyke, which were in the Ormond col- 
 lection at Kilkenny, were sold for original paintings 
 of Vandyke." 
 
 Thus much is related of the father by Pilkington, 
 who seems to have known nothing of William the 
 son ; a circumstance not much to be wondered at, as 
 William's little fame has seldom passed the limits of 
 the county in which he resided ; and where he spent 
 his life in a state of indigence most truly pitiable, if a 
 great part of it did not deserve to be considered as 
 much his own fault, as his misfortune. 
 
 He was a man of a most untractable disposition, 
 very resentful, of unbounded pride, and in the latter 
 part of his life both idle and luxurious ; of which I 
 remember to have heard many instances from my 
 father who knew him, and whose portrait he painted 
 when a child. 
 
 He was at all times totally careless of his reputa- 
 tion as a painter ; and more particularly so if any 
 thing happened in the course of his business to dis-
 
 WILLIAM GANDY. 339 
 
 please Lim. He was once employed to paint the por- 
 trait of a Mr. John Vallack, an apothecary of Ply- 
 mouth, who had amassed a large fortune in that town ; 
 and as Gandy always attended at the houses of his 
 employers to execute his work (having no room of his 
 own fit to receive a sitter) he expected, of course, to 
 be invited to dinner (which was not the least of his 
 gratifications,) concluding he should be well enter- 
 tained by his patron ; but unfortunately for Gaudy, it 
 was Mr. Vallack's custom to have a certain fixed 
 dinner for each day of the week, and by ill luck it 
 happened to be a Saturday when tlie portrait was 
 begun, and the dinner on that day was nothing more 
 than pork and peas, to the utter mortification and dis- 
 appointment of the Artist, who at his return to his 
 lodgings vented his rage in curses on his employei^'s 
 meanness, and not having good nature enough to be 
 thoroughly reconciled to him afterwards, totally ne- 
 glected the picture. This anecdote is certified by the 
 performance itself which I have seen, and a very 
 indifferent performance it is. 
 
 Another instance which I shall give, discovers a 
 singular display of pride and poverty. 
 
 He was invited, together with a friend of his, to 
 visit Sir William Carew at Anthony House, which 
 is on the other side of the River Tamer, and at such 
 a distance from Plymouth, where tiiey lived, that it 
 was nearly impossible for them to return to their 
 home on the same day, and of consequence, they were 
 to sleep at Sir William's : but it so happened that the 
 house at that time was so crowded with visitors, that 
 tliere was a necessity for Gandy and his friend to 
 content themselves with one bed between them. This 
 seemed greatly to mortify Gandy's pride at the 
 moment ; and they were no sooner retired to their 
 chamber than he began to give free vent to his ill 
 humour, in curses on the indignity thus offered them, 
 by treating two gentlemen (to use his own terms) in 
 such a manner, and not allotting to each of them a 
 separate chamber. ISotwithstandiug all the reasons
 
 380 MEMOIR OF 
 
 which were offered to him, from the necessity of the 
 case, as the house was at that time so filled with 
 guests, nothing that could be urged was sufficient to 
 appease the rage of Gandy ; and of this the secret and 
 real cause was now about to transpire, for on his 
 taking oif his clothes to go to bed, it evidently ap- 
 peared that, instead of proper linen, he had two shirts 
 on (if such miglit be called shirts) both of which were 
 in such a ruinous and tattered condition, such a mere 
 bundle of rags, that out of the two it would have been 
 impossible to realize half a one fit for wear. 
 
 His portraits (for I believe he never painted any 
 thing else) are slight and sketchy, and show more of 
 genius than labour ; they indeed demonstrate facility, 
 feeling, and nice observation, as far as concerns the 
 head ; but he was so idle and so unambitious that the 
 remainder of tiie picture, except sometimes the hand, 
 is commonly copied from some print after Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller. 
 
 It is evident that there must have been some period 
 of his life when he pursued his profession with as- 
 siduity and energy, which alone could have gained 
 him the facility of practice that he possessed ; but in 
 the latter part of his life lie could never be induced to 
 paint at all, unless driven to it by mere want; and he 
 had no sooner acquired a little money than it was as 
 quickly gone in luxurious feeding, w hich seemed to 
 be his great passion. 
 
 There is little reason to doubt that he might have 
 been the greatest painter of his time, had he not been 
 liis own greatest enemy. 
 
 There is no portrait of himself existing tliat I ever 
 lieard of, and when, how, or where he died or was 
 buried, I never knew, but most probably at Exeter, 
 as that city was chiefly tlie place of his residence. 
 
 He came to Plymouth about the year 171'*? and was 
 then a man advanced in years. My grandfatiier was 
 a great friend to him ; but Gandy quitted Plymouth 
 much in his debt, departing secretly and leaving only 
 a few old books and prints behind Iiim.
 
 WILLIAM GANDY. 33I 
 
 I have seen in Devonshire several very fine heads 
 of his painting, particularly one of tlie Rev. John 
 Gilbert, Canon of the cathedral of Exeter, and vicar 
 of St. Andrews', Plymouth, and father of the arch- 
 bishop of York, of that name : it is less than life, and 
 has been engraved by Vertue for the volume of 
 Sermons, published by Mr. Gilbert. There is also a 
 fine portrait of the Reverend Nathaniel Harding, at 
 that time a famous dissenting preacher of Plymouth; 
 this picture was painted by the desire of my father's 
 mother, and given by her to the daughter of Mr. 
 Harding, after his death. 
 
 There is likewise a portrait of one Tobias Langton 
 of Exeter, remarkably fine. Sir Godfrey Kneller, 
 who was once at Exeter, by chance saw this picture^ 
 and with astonishment inquired who was the artist 
 capable of having painted it, and when told it was by 
 a painter of that city who was in great poverty, he 
 exclaimed, " Good God ! why does he bury his talents 
 in the country when he ought immediately to come to 
 London, where his merit would soon be known and 
 properly rewarded?" 
 
 One, of my father when a child of four years of age, 
 is equally excellent. — One of my father's mother is 
 likewise extremely fine, although Gandy, from his ill 
 nature, was quarrelling with her the whole time he was 
 painting it. The drapery of this picture is painted in 
 a slovenly manner from a print after Kneller, but 
 there is a hand in it very finely executed. 
 
 There are also a great many of liis pictures scat- 
 tered about Devonshire and Cornwall; some very fine 
 and many more good-for-nothing, though the worst of 
 them still look like the careless productions of a good 
 painter ; but the draperies were always so entirely 
 neglected by him, that this very much conduces to 
 destroy the general etfect of the picture. He seemed 
 never to have thought of fame, but only how to get rid 
 of his work, that he might the sooner receive the 
 money, which was not above two guineas a head. 
 
 X X
 
 333 MEMOIR OF 
 
 He wished to have it supposed that he was the 
 natural son of the great Duke of Ormond, who was 
 afterwards banished, and always insinuated that he 
 liad some secret reasons for not appearing publicly 
 in London; whether this was really tlie case, or 
 whether he only hoped to give liimself importance by 
 his mysterious speeches, I cannot determine. 
 
 I have learnt these particulars from my father, 
 whose family had opportunities of being well ac- 
 quainted with fiiandy's history, in consequence of his 
 jiaviug resided a long time in the house of my grand- 
 father, who admired his talents, and esteemed him as 
 the greatest artist of his time. 
 
 I have seen a portrait by Gandy's father (of whom 
 Pilkington speaks) of the Duke of Orraond; it is in 
 the possession of the Earl of Leicester, and this, as it 
 w as of his patron, may be supposed one of his best 
 performances; if so, 1 must give the preference in 
 ability to the son ; for though this portrait is finished 
 with much more care than any by the younger Gandy, 
 yet it is very far from discovering so much genius. 
 
 It is remarkable that the drapery in this portrait is 
 so exactly similar to that which we so often find in 
 Vandyke's pictures, that it confirms Pilkington's sup- 
 position of Gandy, the ftither, having been the as- 
 sistant of Vandyke, and almost proves him to have 
 frequently painted those parts in the pictures of that 
 celebrated painter. 
 
 It appears to me to be highly probable that this 
 James Gandy, the fatlier, was a native of Exeter, as 
 the son made choice of it for his place of residence, 
 and also because that it is a well known name and 
 family still remaining in that city. AA'e find the name 
 also in Prince's '"•' Worthies of Devon.*' 
 
 I cannot close the memoir of this man witliout 
 noticing how much it proves that the greatest abilities 
 may become totally useless to the possessor, and lost 
 to the world at large, if not directed by virtue and 
 industry: and the lives of such persons, as they 
 exhibit an example of the distresses to which idleness
 
 WILLIAM GANDY. 833 
 
 and want of moral principles may expose men of 
 parts, may be an useful lesson to the rising generation, 
 and prove a more powerful persuasive to industry, 
 economy, and the right use of great talents, than the 
 most laboured argument; and as Johnson so ex- 
 quisitely expresses it — 
 
 ^^ Tiiose who, in confidence of superior capacities 
 or attainments, disregard the common maxims of life, 
 should be reminded, that nothing will supply the 
 want of prudence; and that negligence and irregu- 
 larity long continued, will make knowledge useless, 
 wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible." 
 
 The example of Sir Joshua Reynolds is an illus- 
 trious contrast to this, where we see that great abili-^ 
 ties, united to virtue, have raised for liim an everlast 
 ing monument of fame.
 
 VARIETIES ON ART.
 
 THE 
 
 DREAM 
 
 OF A PAINTER. 
 
 ► :o:c:o:< 
 
 No painter can have felt tiic true euthusiasm of his 
 art who has not been impressed by contemplating the 
 rich treasures which are to be found deposited in the 
 Vatican. It is there that the soul seems to expand 
 beyond its usual limits^ and inhales an atmosphere 
 peculiarly its own. 
 
 The majesty of the vast fabric, the solemn religious 
 monastic dignity which invests it, crowned by those 
 stupendous works of art which adorn the stately 
 chambers, all conspire to fill the mind with lofty 
 ideas, and lift it above the earth. The various por- 
 traits also of illustrious individuals found interspersed 
 in those paintings of persons who were coteraporaries 
 of the great Leo, and the friends and patrons of the 
 still greater Raphael, help to carry us back to those 
 golden days in which they flourished. 
 
 In a train of thought naturally proceeding from such 
 impressions, I wandered in the apartments unconcious 
 of the lateness of the hour, when resting myself on 
 the steps of an altar in a small oratory built by St. 
 Pius the Fifth, situated immediately beyond the 
 stanza of Raphael, I was so eutirly absorbed in 
 thought, that whether I really slept or seemed to 
 sleep, I will not determine ; but methought a form, 
 like that of an angel, approached, and addressing me 
 wth a mild air, said, " You have enlisted under the
 
 4. VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 banner of the arts, fine arts you call them, a noble and 
 a bold resolution, where labour and study may be 
 rewarded with immortality. Your other fortunes must 
 be left to chance. As the Genius of those arts to 
 which you have devoted yourself, it becomes ray duty 
 and your right that I conduct you wheresoever you 
 may gain improvement. I am one of those attendant 
 Spirits who watch over the hours of the studious and 
 industrious ; I inspire with hope and strength all 
 minds that are bent on gaining knowledge, but bestow 
 no help on such as are not prepared and anxious to 
 receive it. All instruction is in vain offered to those 
 who do not seek it, or whose minds are pre-occupied : 
 but you who are properly disposed, may follow me, 
 and for a time relax from your labours." 
 
 I instantly obeyed the order with alacrity, and 
 followed my conductor, who led me through various 
 windings and vaulted avenues, sometimes in light 
 and sometimes in obscurity, till at length we entered a 
 stately building or temple, when a grand saloon 
 presented itself to our sight. Here he placed me in a 
 most commodious situation for observing every thiug 
 that passed. The room soon became crowded by a 
 mixed multitude, of different degrees, ages, and 
 nations. The place was immense in size, superb in 
 decoration, and terminated at the end fartliest from the 
 company by a splendid curtain of golden tapestry. 
 My guardian never left me, and appeared to have 
 pleasure in affording me all necessary information : 
 he now desired me to attend, saying, " That which 
 will quickly be presented to your view, is a proces- 
 sional show, addressed to the sight, and to the greater 
 part of the spectators will be matter of amusement 
 only: to you, I hope, it will be more than mere 
 entertainment; those things which you may not com- 
 prehend without my assistance, I will explain." 
 
 JMy guide had scarcely done speaking, when we 
 heard an awful blast of trumpets in tlie air, which 
 seemed to shake the very foundation of the building, 
 and the curtain of rich tapestry being withdrawn,
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. $ 
 
 discovered Apollo seated on a throne surrounded by 
 the Muses, in all the splendour of Parnassus, and 
 before the throne passed in procession an assembly of 
 grave and dignified characters, which my informant 
 told me were the ancient Greek and Roman philoso- 
 phers and pnets; the latter part of tlie procession 
 appeared to dwindle into comparative insignificance, 
 and seemed to be made up of persons who mimicked 
 those who went before them, and who fell far short of 
 their predecessors, in majesty and grace. 
 
 After these had parsed, there entered on the stage 
 one of the most enchanting and graceful female figures 
 I had ever beheld. She was encompassed by a 
 splendour, or rather glory, that sparkled with every 
 colour of the rainbow : in her hands she bore the 
 implements made use of by painters. But what ap- 
 peared ludicrous and unaccountable to me, was to see 
 with how much solicitude this charming nymph en- 
 couraged and enticed to come forward the oddest 
 group I ever saw, and the most unlike herself. Their 
 number was considerable, their manners timid, and 
 they paid her great homage : this assembly was in 
 general composed of figures, lean, old, and hard 
 featured ; their drapery hung about them in so formal 
 a manner, that it fell into nothing but straight lines, 
 and their sallow complexions appeared well to corres- 
 pond with the dingy hue of their gothic monastic 
 habits. Several amongst them were females, with 
 half starved and sickly looking children accompany, 
 iug them, but not one of the whole group had beauty 
 suificient to attract much attention. However, their 
 modesty and diflidence were such, as rendered it 
 impossible for them to oftend the most fastidious 
 spectator; for their manners were natural, simple, 
 and perfectly unassuming. They displayed no airs of 
 pretence to self-importance, no violent contortions of 
 affectation, nor the grimance of forced expression ; 
 but, on the contrary, such a degree of strong and 
 distinct meaning in the countenance, and in their 
 actions; such strict propriety, judgment, and simplici- 
 
 Y V
 
 6 VARIETIES ON ART. n 
 
 ty, as altogether gave tliem a peculiar air of dignity* 
 Those, my guide informed me, were the earliest 
 ^e^ ivers of the fine arts. 
 
 After this curious procession was gone hy, a deep 
 silence prevailed, wliicli shongly impressed me with 
 an idea that someihing of a move exalted kind was 
 about to enter, and accordingly tlierc soon appeared a 
 group of grave matliematicians and mechanics, as I 
 plainly perceived they were, by the various instru- 
 ments applicable to the purposes of their studies, and 
 which they bore in their hands. These were fol- 
 lowed by professors of chemistry, anatomy and sur- 
 i>:erv, as was evident also bv their insijrnia. Then 
 came a band bearing various instruments of music, on 
 which they sv» eetly played, followed by led horses of 
 Barbary and Arabian breed, richly caparisoned. 
 These beautiful animals, although perfectly under the 
 command of the page who held each, yet played and 
 wantoned in a tiiousand graceful attitudes as they 
 moved slowly forward. Now came four warriors 
 accoutred cap-a-pee in f;intastic armour, bearing 
 standards in their hands and mounted on horses 
 equally perfect in figure with the former : next to these 
 came a company of fair nymphs, who seemed to rep- 
 resent the hours, strewing fiowers before a magnifi- 
 cent car, which entered drawn by dragons and various 
 grotesque monsters. In this car sat a person very 
 aged, but his appearance was the most awful and 
 striking that can be imagined. He was of a form 
 perfect in proportion, and his countenance was still 
 beautiful, his eyes beaming with intelligence and fire : 
 his garments deep and rich in colour were of the most 
 costly stuffs, and he was adorned with a great quantity 
 of golden chains and rare jewels. He wore his own 
 hair with a long and flowing beard. At his side sate 
 a royal personage with an imperial crown upon his 
 Iiead, who paid him the greatest marks of attention 
 and respect. My guide informed rae that the venera- 
 ble person in the car was Leonardo da Vinci seated 
 on the right hand of his patron and friend Francis the
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. y 
 
 First of France ; the dragons which drew the car 
 were the ingenious contrivance of Leonardo himself, 
 the result of his skill in mechanics, and executed in 
 his hours of relaxation. ^' This extraordinary man,"" 
 said my guide, " seems to have heen the peculiar 
 favourite of Providence; endowed with an ample 
 capacity to embrace the whole circle of the sciences, 
 as you may perceive by those who pay attendance on 
 his progress ; born and educated high, the companion 
 and favourite of* sovereigns, blessed with health, 
 beauty, fortune, genius and long life; iu truth adorned 
 with all that nature has to bestow on a mortal.'' 
 Thus passed the pageant, and the area of the stage 
 was now clear, when I perceived a bright cloud 
 descending to the ground, whicji by degrees vanished 
 into air, and then discovered to our sight an elderly 
 personage of most singular majesty of deportment. 
 He was habited in a flowing robe of green velvet, with 
 a kind of hat or cap of the same on his head ; he 
 Bioved with a firm and dignified step; he had but few 
 followers and those few stood at an awful distance. 
 He appeared to scorn the flutter or parade of show, as 
 if all dignity was in himself, and when he trod, the 
 very ground seemed to tremble beneath him. At liie 
 motion of his wand he was encircled by a group of 
 more than mortal beings; sacred prophets and sybils 
 came obedient to his call. Behind him mysterious 
 visions floated in the distant space, and as if the 
 heavens had opened, there appeared angelic forms 
 ascending and descending. A stream of light shoue 
 down upon him like that which we may imagine miglii 
 have surrounded Moses when the tables of the law 
 were delivered to him. Its glory was too powerful to 
 be viewed without pain, and turning from it to relieve 
 my aching sight, I saw it no more, as instantly the 
 curtain hid the awful scene. " You have had this 
 transient view,'^ said my guide " of Michael Augelo 
 Buonarotti." 
 
 By degrees, the curtain being again withdrawn 
 discovered a solemn though splendid assembly of
 
 g VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 grave and dignified persons, wiiicli appeared to be the 
 Court of Rome ; and Pope Julius the second himself 
 was seated on the throne accompanied by many 
 cardinals, who sat on each side; and a number of 
 bishops, prelates, and foreign embassadors stood 
 round; when we introduced to the Pope a young man 
 of a most winning aspect: a mild, yet penetrating eye 
 enlivened his countenance, in other respects also 
 handsome : his manner was simple, graceful, and 
 modest; he was particularly noticed by two cardinals, 
 one of which was John, Cardinal of Medicis, as my 
 guide informed me. The Pope received him with 
 much condescension, and having recommended him to 
 the care of some of the principal officers of the court, 
 the young man gracefully withdrew, followed by 
 several great persons, and the scene soon closed. 
 " You have been shown Raphael Urbin," said my 
 guardian; " but shall again see him more to his 
 advantage than in the former stately assembly." 
 When turning my eyes towards the area of the magi- 
 cal theatre, I saw Raphael enter the great chambers of 
 the Vatican, the spacious walls of which appeared 
 unspotted, and glared only in white before his sight: 
 on tiiese he was to display the immortal works of his 
 highest powers; I felt for him when I contemplated 
 the arduous encounter, but he with modest courage 
 looked calmly around. Presently there entered a 
 crowd attending on him, my guide addressing me 
 said, " do you not perceive in the retinue a poor man 
 habited in the garb of a disbanded soldier, leading a 
 little boy whom a favourite goat follows, held by a 
 string? That goat has to that child stood in the place 
 of a protector and a nurse ; it is little Pierino del Vaga 
 who lost his mother nearly as soon as he gained life. 
 This parent, so particularly important to infant years, 
 he was deprived of by the ravages of the plague at 
 Florence where he was born. The father thus left 
 desolate and in poverty had no other means to pre- 
 serve the new-born infant than by procuring a milch 
 goat to supply the loss ; this creature is become their
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. 9 
 
 ibndliug, and the child now returns the protections he 
 before received : he is destined to foHow in the train 
 of the great painter, who will quickly perceive his 
 dawning powers." 
 
 My attention was now fixed on Raphael, who 
 quickly commenced his great work: when methought 
 beauties instantly began to spring up under his hand, 
 and his fingers seemed as if inspired by his breath. I 
 was transfixed and lost in delight. I could have 
 looked on for ever, but my guide interrupting my 
 attention, the pleasing vision vanished from my sight. 
 
 Now we saw Titian pass : his appearance was 
 impressive, and strikingly grave and majestic ; his 
 dress was an ample robe of black velvet; his train, 
 which was of great length, was borne by Pordenone, 
 the Bassanos, Girolamo, Mutiano, Giacomo, Palma, 
 and others. He was accompanied by Tintorretto and 
 Paul Veronese, and before him went Bellino and 
 Georgioue, bearing each in his hand a light so illustri- 
 ous that the whole group were illumined by the 
 splendour. The scene around was landscape, but 
 like the country of enchantment, where the tall wild 
 trees of various species were seen spreading their 
 ample branches in the sky, and below, appearing in 
 the distance between them, shone the blue sapphire 
 mountains, tipt with gold by the setting sun, which 
 glowed in the bright horizon, and threw its warmth 
 around a scene, in which the sublime and beautiful, 
 thus united, filled the mind alternately with astonish- 
 ment, terror, and delight. But what still increased my 
 enthusiasm was, that on a sudden 1 heard a choir of 
 the most seraphic music, such as before had never 
 struck my ear ; but I could perceive neither instru- 
 ments nor performers : it was not like any sounds I had 
 been accustomed to hear, even at the most select 
 concerts, but rather resembled the idea we have of 
 that celestial harmony with which angels, we are 
 told, welcomed the expiring St. Francis into Heaven, 
 I was so enraptured with the notes, that for a time I 
 scarcely knew where I was, when on recollecting
 
 10 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 myself, and looking round, I found that the scene was 
 totally changed, and an open country was now before 
 US Avith the sun bright as at nooii-day. Methought I 
 saw a ilight of sportive little cherubs in the air, play- 
 ing round and round like summer flies, three beautiful 
 females like the Graces also appeared in all the 
 triumph of their charms, and joined tlie group who 
 now altogether were filled with earnest expectation, 
 as if to welcome some chosen object of their tenderest 
 care. I felt the highest degree of impatience to be- 
 hold who this peculiarly honoured personage might be 
 to whom the loves and graces delighted to pay their 
 homage, and were so solicitous to attend. When 
 after a short time there entered, to my great surprize, 
 not one whose appearance bespoke him of quality, 
 but a person unattended, and in the mean hal3it of a 
 rustic, aged about forty years, bearing on his back a 
 huge sack, evidently too heavy for his strength, whilst 
 he himself appeared to be so much debilitated by the 
 excessive load, as well as by the heat of the day, that 
 lie fainted and seemed expiring beneath his burden: 
 his late playful companions flew with eagerness to 
 succour him ; but he was by this time too far exhausted 
 to be sensible of their solicitude or attention : they 
 held his chilling hand in mournful silence; they 
 ■wiped the faint damps from the face of their adored 
 mortal, they could only close his eyes in death, and 
 lament their fatal separation. " You look grave," 
 said ray guide " at the disastrous lot of the unfortunate 
 Correggio. The burden under which he died was a 
 load of base copper coin, which had been just paid 
 him for years of labour, and for works divine: his 
 fate is the more pitiable, because it was not brought 
 upon himself by any misconduct of his own." 
 
 "' But let us quit this melancholy scene," continued 
 my instructor, ^' and attend to the illustrious persons 
 who now enter : these are the family of the laborious, 
 and not less famous Caracci, followed by their great 
 scholars, Domenichino, Lanfranco, Guercino, Albano^
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. fl 
 
 together with a numerous retinue of most respecta- 
 ble appearance.'^ 
 
 Annibal, I saw, boldly took the lead ia the proces- 
 sion, although not the first in age. His figure was 
 awful; his form was muscular and of fine proportion; 
 his step was firm and with a noble wildness in his 
 gait; the expression of his countenance was so deter- 
 mined, that it rather bordered on severity. Then we 
 saw Lodovico advance, with a milder air, more sweet- 
 ness in his aspect, with more grace and sensibility in 
 his manner, and a solemn dignity in his carriage: he 
 seemed to be surrounded (as if by a guard) by those 
 who at first sight I thought had been all the illustrious 
 painters whom we had seen pass before as principal 
 figures, but on a closer inspection I could clearly 
 discern them to be no more than an excellent assem- 
 blage of well-chosen representatives of those great 
 geniuses. The likeness to Correggio was particularly 
 imposing, and in some views appeared just himself; 
 but, when he turned, I could distinctly perceive the 
 difi'erenee: however, the whole together produced a 
 most splendid effect, in which Lodovico had the 
 appearance of being the master and cause of the 
 procession. ^' You shall now see," said my guide, 
 " a character contrasted to that of Correggio, one less 
 pitiable, though scarcely less unfortunate or less ex; 
 cellent — one who dallied with good fortune, und 
 brought his hardships on himself. This favourite of 
 the Graces, in his latter days, wasted both his genius 
 and his life: but see, he comes!*' The heavenly 
 choir, with a soft and melodious strain, in a sort of 
 minuet time, proclaimed his entrance, when we saw 
 come forward a beautiful youth like an Adonis, whose 
 steps kept time with the music: all his actions were 
 graceful in the highest degree, yet only just free from 
 affectation. He was welcomed, and even courted, by 
 those captivating graces, who now ajipeared in the 
 perfection of their heavenly beauties, and seemed to vie 
 with each other which should be most his favourite ; 
 while he, with all courtesy and modest elegance,
 
 12 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 expressed a due sense of the high honour done him, 
 and as they trod to the accord of music, they thug 
 quitted the stage together. Then followed, to close 
 his retinue, a melancholy set of wretched garahlers 
 and sharpers, who with tattered garments, wild eyes, 
 and haggard visages, shook each his dice-box in frantic 
 despair. " Behold,'' said my guide, *^ the splendid 
 genius of Guido Reni disgraced by the base and 
 vicious crew who finish iiis career. Unfortunate 
 being! to throw away the heavenly riches with which 
 he had been blessed, by wasting his time and ven- 
 turing his fortunes with miscreants like these I" 
 
 My instructor perceiving the agitation this last 
 scene had raised in my mind, looked on me with pity, 
 but remarked to me the necessity there was for my 
 being informed of every circumstance, good or evil, 
 attendant on the department I had adopted, as useful 
 examples by which I might the better be enabled to 
 regulate my future conduct. 
 
 " One scene more of a tragic cast,'' said he, " I 
 shall oifer to your view, further I will not oppress 
 your feelings, though many yet remain which might 
 be given." 
 
 A small building like an Italian inn was now pre- 
 sented to our view : in its interior sat four persons at a 
 table, as if about to sup in a friendly manner. One of 
 the party, a young man of a bright and ruddy com- 
 plexion, appeared to be the genius of the company, 
 and, I saw, was viewed by the others with evident 
 marks of envy : the young man was gay and innocent 
 liimself, and seemed not to regard their secret ill will, 
 if, indeed, he was sensible of it. One of them, in 
 particular, drew my attention, who, I saw, had a 
 scowling aspect, and w ho surveyed him, at such times 
 as opportunity offered, with looks that terrified me. 
 This person officiously prepared the sallad which was 
 on the table : in doing which I remarked his taking a 
 small phial from his pocket, unperceived by the rest 
 of the company. He then poured the contents into the 
 mixture of the sallad which he dressed, and when
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. 13 
 
 supper was served, he offered his mixture to the 
 ruddy youth, and was very importunate and earnest 
 to make him partake of it, in which he succeeded ; 
 and after tliis miscreant had seen liini swallow a 
 sufficient quantity, he, as if by accident, pushed the 
 bowl with the remainder of this sallad off the table, 
 and spilled it on the floor, and thus it became unfit 
 for use. Soon we perceived the unfortunate youth 
 began to writhe in agonies of pain, which increased 
 till he fainted in convulsive fits, when his companions 
 bore him away, and we saw them no more. I turned 
 to my guide with emotions of astonishment and 
 sorrow. ^^ Surely," said I, " he has been poisoned 
 by that villian." — " True," said my guide, " but he 
 does not die by this vile act. I show you this vision, 
 it represents the story of Frederico Baroccio, who 
 never had health after the fatal night, although he 
 lived to a great age in misery, and at intervals ex- 
 ercised those great talents with which Nature had 
 blessed him at his birth; but owing to the precarious 
 state of his life, he devoted his time and labours to 
 pious and solemn subjects. You see in this example 
 the dreadful effects of ill guided passions. Emulation, 
 in which are tiie seeds of the highest virtue, in this 
 sad instance is turned into envy, and thus degenerates 
 into the most pernicious vice. That strong desire 
 which the vile assassin felt to be the first in his pro- 
 fession, instead of stimulating him with a noble 
 energy to surpass his competitor by fair exertions and 
 superior skill, urges him on to gain pre-eminence by 
 the most dark, cowardly, and execrable means ; the 
 destruction of his superior. Thus envy always waits 
 at virtue's elbow.'' 
 
 The area, now presented to our sight, seemed to 
 promise a parade of show : the scene appeared to be 
 the portico of a magnificent building ; a band of musi- 
 cians with warlike instruments entered, sounding a 
 grand march; these were followed by a company of 
 guards, as if attending on a sovereign prince; tiien 
 came a group of splendid figures attired in habits of 
 z z
 
 f i VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 the ricliest drapcnps, and amongst them I descried 
 mitred abbots, bishops, cardinals, and popes. Follow- 
 ing these, came warriors in full harness, witli plumed 
 heralcts on their heads, mounted on horses which 
 seemed like those described in Eastern poetry. Then 
 came a group of chubby boys, holding I'estoons of 
 mingled flowers, by which were led various savage 
 animals, as lions, tigers, leopards, bears, and others of 
 an inferior nature; but each the most beautiful of its 
 kind. Next came the person who appeared to be the 
 principal figure of this splendid scene : he was most 
 gorgeously apparrelled ; and on his head he wore a 
 large black Spanish hat, ornamented with feathers. 
 He was mounted on a milk-white Arabian, which 
 liad a flowing mane and tail, and so exquisite in form, 
 that it appeared like the vision of a horse. He was 
 surrounded by a number of gay damsels, whose rosy 
 flesh looked health itself; they were of the fullest 
 habit of body, yet nimbly danced round Rubens, this 
 object of their admiration, while he, in stately move- 
 ment, proceeded slowly on : a flourish of trumpets and 
 a group of kings finished the procession. After these 
 had passed, a different train appeared. A bloated 
 crew of bacchanalian wretches, who performed their 
 loathsome actions with fantastic levity ; what garments 
 they wore were tawdy rags of various hues with tinsel 
 finery to imitate gold ; altliougli some figures of 
 respectable appearance mixed with and graced the 
 train. 
 
 Now tired with pomp and splendid show, the glare 
 of light and sound of warlike strains on brazen in- 
 struments, it was a relief to me when on a sudden I 
 was surrounded by a thick cloud or mist and my guide 
 V afled me through the air till we alighted on a most 
 delicious rural spot. I perceived it was the early hour 
 of the morn, when the sun had not risen above the 
 horizon. AVe were alone, except that at a little dis- 
 tance a young shepherd played on his flageolet as he 
 walked before his herd, conducting them from the 
 fold to the pasture. The elevated pastoral air he
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. i^ 
 
 played charmed me by its simplicity, and seemed to 
 animate his obedient flock. The atmosphere was 
 clear and perfectly calm: and now the risinj^ sun 
 gradually illumined the fine landscape, and began t«> 
 discover to our view the distant country of immense, 
 extent. I stood awhile in expectation of what might 
 next present itself of dazzling spleirhjur, wlien Uie. 
 only object which appeared to till this natural, grand, 
 and simple scene, was a rustic wlio entered, not far 
 from t!ie place where we stood, who by his habiliments 
 seemed nothing better than a peasant; lie led a poor 
 little ass, which was loaded Avith all the implements 
 required by a painter in his work. After advancing a 
 few paces, he stood still, and with an air of rapture- 
 seemed to contemplate the rising sun ; he next fell on 
 his knees, directed Ins eyes towards Heaven, crossed 
 himself, and then went on with eager looks, as if to 
 make choice of the most advantageous spot from which 
 to make his studies as a painter. "^ This,*' said my 
 conductor, *^' is that Claude Gclee of Lorrain, who 
 nobly disdaining the low employment to v.hich he was 
 originally bred, left it with all its advantages of com- 
 petence and ease to embrace his present state of 
 poverty, in order to adorn the world with works oi 
 most accomplished excellence.'' 
 
 The view was now changed, when there came 
 wandering by one who at first appearance looked like 
 a manikin, or what painters call a lay figure ; but of a 
 most perfect proportion of limbs, as if formed after the 
 excellent models of antiquity : in its acti(m there ap- 
 peared great agility and propriety; yet still I doubted 
 if it was really animated; it seemed to be moved by 
 mechanism, which made me ask my guide if it was a 
 living figure. " Do you not know" (was the reply) 
 *' the famous Nicolo Poussin, the most classical of 
 painters and most successful copier of the antique?" I 
 humbly confessed my ignorance. I was capable of 
 perceiving only his grosser qualities, which opened 
 quickly and forcibly upon me in all the nationality of 
 French grimance, which he displayed in a thousand
 
 16 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 different expressions in succession, and obliged me to 
 acknowledge liim to be a very capital actor for any 
 stage. " Observe bira witb patience," said my guide, 
 *^ see how beautifully all bis limbs are formed just 
 like an antique statue: then so judiciously are all his 
 actions suited to the expression of bis countenance that 
 it is impossible to doubt his meaning for a moment." 
 I bowed in acquiescence, and began to persuade my- 
 self that he was alive. But that which struck me with 
 equal admiration, surprise, and delight, was the effect 
 produced when he moved a wand which he held in 
 his right hand ; waving it over the surrounding space, 
 there gradually arose a view of the most beautiful 
 country imaginable, and such as I should conclude 
 must have been a perfect example of a truly classic 
 style of scenery. 
 
 My kind conductor now quitted the place, and I 
 obediently followed him, when he led me through 
 wandering paths till we arrived at the porch of a sin- 
 gular and romantic ancient mansion. We entered, 
 and passing through several rooms, enriched by 
 decayed finery, we at last came to a chamber which 
 had the appearance of a study of times long passed, 
 where, in an elbow chair, companion to the other 
 furniture, sat a man rather majestic in his aspect: his 
 face w as broad l)ut of a commanding expression, he 
 was overloaded by the quantity of his own drapery of 
 velvets, silks, tissues, gold chains, and furs of all 
 sorts, insomuch that it was impossible to trace the 
 human figure under them : but it all sparkled as if 
 illumined by a burning lens which threw the light on 
 one spot only. On looking round I saw, although 
 much obscured, his retinue behind him, which con- 
 sisted of surely the ugliest crew of vulgar mortals 
 (both male and female) 1 had ever seen, and cloathed 
 in all the finery of a pawnbroker's warehouse ; and 
 although most of them were lame as well as ill-fa- 
 voured, yet the light was so skilfully managed to fall 
 partially upon them, that it produced a very solemn 
 and; in a considerable degree, an awful appearance ;
 
 THE DREAM OF A PAINTER. I7 
 
 added to this also was the grand and impressive even- 
 ing landscape on which the sun had set as it appeared 
 tin'ough the vaulted arches of the building, and thus 
 added greatly to the majesty of the sombre group. 
 The great man deported himself with considerable 
 dignity, and received vast homage from his bedizened 
 court. 
 
 From this spot, which appeared evidently to be on 
 the banks of the Rhine, I was instantaneously trans- 
 ported by my guide, I know not how, to a spot of a 
 totally different aspect, which I apprehend must have 
 been in the region of the Alps. The air was cold and 
 stormy, and as the view opened before me, I dis- 
 covered a most romantic, mountainous, and rocky 
 country, in which tremendous falls of water came 
 rushing down with impetuous violence, rooting up 
 vast trees in their passage: when there entered a 
 spirited fellow who apparently delighted himself in 
 the perfect use of his limbs. He was partly accoutred 
 in armour and partly bare; he brandished a large 
 sabre in his right hand, and in his left he bore a 
 lance; he trod about in the wild scenery as if he 
 defied the elements. I took liira to be one of a banditti, 
 till my conductor informed me it was no other than 
 Salvator Rosa. Although he was a very fine figure, 
 I was not much amused with his gesticulations : he 
 was active, bold, and dexterous, yet he raised no sen- 
 sations in my mind which created any interest, and I 
 was perfectly well satisfied when he withdrew. 
 
 My good genius now transported me to the sea 
 coast, where, from the lofty rocks of a bold shore, we 
 surveyed the vast ocean at a distance, and near us 
 embayed there lay in majestic tranquillity a fleet of 
 ships' of war whose towering masts seemed to touch 
 the sky. The air scarcely moved the pendant sails, 
 and tlie gilded sterns glittered by the reflected light 
 of the setting sun; while the white cloud of smoke 
 from the evening gun crept slowly over the polished 
 surface of the water, now undisturbed except by tlie 
 regular strokes of a full-oared barge, which had just
 
 18 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 left the sliore. On the rocks below sat one who 
 seemed to view the scene with most particular at- 
 tention. " Beliold," said my guide, '* that man; he 
 contemplates the beauties of this view with more than 
 poetic energy, '^ I also warmly felt the grandeur of 
 the picture and expressed my delight in rapturous 
 terms. 
 
 My guide touching me suddenly on the forehead 
 with his hand, my senses for an instant forsook me, 
 but on recovering myself the astonishment I felt can- 
 not be described, when instead of the solemn stillness 
 I had just witnessed, I beheld the sea now run moun- 
 tains high, the waves in wanton rage beat white 
 against the steady and immoveable rocks that defied 
 the impotent attack : but not so was it with those 
 stately floating castles which I had seen in their 
 proud tranquillity; these suffered a sad reverse, weak 
 helpless victims of misfortune, and were dashed with 
 unrelenting fury on the pitiless rocks or shore, or 
 sunk, torn asunder by the tempestuous waves, while 
 the black sky possessed scarcely any light but that 
 which proceeded from quick flashes of forked vivid 
 lightning. The same enthusiastic and daring artist 
 whom I had seen before contemplating the beauties 
 of the calm, now seemed quite as much absorbed in 
 the rude and awful sublimity which at this time 
 presented itself to our sight: my desire was so great 
 to see and converse witii Yandervelde, on being in- 
 formed who it was, that I left my guide to scramble 
 down the rocks to the place where he sat, when un- 
 fortunately my foot slipped, and I thought myself 
 irretrievably lost in the sea, but my preserver and 
 guide caught me in his arms, and on recovering from 
 my fright I found myself, to my utter astonishment, 
 with my guardian at my side safely cloeeted in a 
 painter's study, in which two curious artists were 
 seen supporting in their hands a microscope, which 
 they now placed on a table with great care, and each 
 of them eagerly looked through different apertures of 
 the instrument at the same object. They seemed to
 
 THE DREAM OF A P AIMER. 
 
 19 
 
 be extremely intent on tbeir employment, and so 
 absorbed as not to perceive we were in the room, as 
 we stood at a little distance from them, and indeed I 
 had a notion that they were both of them very short 
 sighted. As 1 was not sufficiently actjuainted with the 
 subject to discover v/hat it was tliey looked at with so 
 much earnestness, I applied to my instructor, when 
 he informed me that those two ingenious personages 
 were no other than the Chevalier Adrian Yander 
 Welf, and the no less famous Balthasar Deuncr, wlio 
 were now deeply intent on solving a problem of much 
 importance in their mode of study, which was to split 
 a hair of a lady's eyebrow, in order to investigate if it 
 was solid or tubulated ; as such a difference would 
 produce a great effect on its appearance and colour. 
 This, at present, they could not accomplish, but would 
 most certainly do it by patience and time. I inquired 
 of my guide if we were to wait there till the experi- 
 ment was completed, when we were suddenly inter- 
 rupted by the accidental falling from its stand, of an 
 ivory Yenus, the performance of the Chevalier; this 
 accident much surprised and discomposed them, as 
 the figure was broken to pieces by the fall, but when 
 they had recovered their tranquillity they returned to 
 their business as intently as before ; we now left them 
 together to take their own time to finish the delicate 
 work on which they were engaged. On quitting tliis 
 chamber we presently found ourselves on a beautiful 
 terrace at the entrance of a palace. " Now" said my 
 attentive instructor, " as a contrast to all those foreign 
 scenes which you have been shown, I shall finish my 
 lesson at this time by presenting you with an English 
 triumph" — When waving his hand there gradually 
 came to my sight a most pleasing landscape as we 
 viewed it from the terrace ; we presently saw a per- 
 son who descended to us from a higiier walk by a 
 flight of steps which communicated with the place on 
 which we stood. His manner at once distinguished 
 him as a man of refined mind, his carriage was unas- 
 suming, gentk; and simple to the utmost degree j he
 
 go VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 appeared to be untouched by vanity, although at- 
 tended by a great company of grave pliilosophers. 
 divines, and poets, who all paid him homage, which 
 he received with the humility and simplicity of a child, 
 as if unconscious of its worth or of his own deserts. 
 He was met on the terrace by the most fascinating 
 group of females that can be imagined, who displayed 
 their beautiful figures in light draperies, in all the 
 varieties of exquisite grace, their fine hair in ringlets 
 floating in the air. With tliem were intermixed a 
 number of elegant children who by the pure unsophis- 
 ticated beauty of nature, or the playful affectations of 
 infant innocence rendered themselves objects of infinite 
 delight; all of whom joined him in a kind of proces- 
 sion, while he by turns paid equal attention to all, 
 and seemed to give pleasure and importance to all 
 alike : mean while the varying landscape back ground 
 to this group produced a perpetual and amusing 
 change ; now we saw the sun-beams darting through 
 the foliage ; then the scene would present the soothing 
 tranquillity of the setting sun; the trees partook of all 
 the varied colours of the autumnal season; whilst 
 orange, red, yellow, and green, diversified the splen- 
 did rural scene. 
 
 I followed with my eyes this bewitching assembly 
 as long as it was in view. I wislicd if possible, it 
 could return. I regretted the privation I suifered, as 
 nothing I had seen gave me such heartfelt gratifica- 
 tion; but my wish was vain, it faded from my sight. 
 
 " You have now seen pass," said the Genius, " my 
 last, my favourite pupil, and my delight.*' 
 
 I was enraptured with pleasure, when on a sudden 
 a dreadful burst of thunder that seemed as if it had 
 torn the earth in twain brought me to my original 
 state, and I found myself reposing on the steps of the 
 altar in the little oratory of St. Pius the Fifth.
 
 THE 
 
 PAINTER 
 
 AND THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHER 
 
 It is a sagacious observation, which has often been 
 repeated, that every man can bear the misfortunes of 
 another with much more tranquillity than he can his 
 own. It is no less true, that we often over-rate, and 
 see magnified, those evils which fall to our lot, from 
 our not being able to bring them into comparison 
 with those which assail our neighbour. External ap- 
 pearances frequently deceive us; and could we but 
 be sensible of the sufferings of many of those whom 
 we behold with envy, it would tend much to reconcile 
 us to our own fate. 
 
 A fable occurs to my memory, which I had lately 
 occasion to repeat to a friend of mine, who complained 
 to me bitterly of the miseries of his profession as a 
 painter. ** You," said he, ^^ who are an artist, cannot 
 be unacquainted with the burthens which lie heavy on 
 the shoulders of poor mortals in that walk of life, I 
 am fatigued to death by a succession of sitters,'' (a 
 term given to those who come to have their portraits 
 drawn ;) " and if I had none, my case would still be 
 worse : some of these/' continued he, ^* being new 
 
 3 A
 
 23 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 coiners, are of course on their £;oo(l behaviour to gain 
 my favour by flattery, in order timt I may exert myself 
 and do my best for them, just as kind words are given 
 io a dentist who is going to pull out your teeth, or as 
 M purse of guineas is frequently given by a criminal to 
 liis executioner ; others of ray employers have passed 
 <heir final sitting, when there only remains that disa- 
 greeable ceremony to be performed of paying for the 
 picture, and then their invention is at work to find 
 iiow tliey may best be enabled to skulk from that 
 odious part of the business; and these unfortunately 
 think, that the more they teaze you the better they 
 sliall escape. * 
 
 In short, the importunity of ignorance, the discon- 
 tent of vanity, and the imposition of meanness, to- 
 gether with the confinement and constant labour, have 
 sickened me of the profession; and I am become 
 wlioUy dissatisfied with ray lot in life, and begin to 
 think, tliat of all situations under the sun, that of a 
 portrait painter is the worst and raost vexatious. 1 
 am therefore considering with myself what is best to 
 be done in my circumstances ; for to some other course 
 of life I am fully determined to change, without any 
 fear of changing for the wors^e.*' 
 
 This weak and impatient harangue moved me with 
 more displeasure than pity : " my good friend," I 
 said, " have patience, and I will read you a fable, to 
 divert your mind from its present annoyance." I then 
 took up my common place book, and read out of it 
 the following tale, which I had copied from an East- 
 ern author. 
 
 Hassan was a younger son of a merchant of Bagdad, 
 who, loaded w ith a large family of children for whom 
 he was bound to provide, and having suffered many 
 losses in trade, had it not in his power to bestow much 
 on his offspring, beyond a good education, in the 
 seminaries of the learned. 
 
 Hassan was active and ambitious, and for a con- 
 siderable time devoted himself with intense applica- 
 tion to the study of letters and the sciences; filled with
 
 THE PAINTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER. 23 
 
 youthful hopes of gaining eminence as a learned 
 professor. But at length his ardour failed him : he, 
 saw that the labour of gaining distinction and superi- 
 ority by the means which he had adopted was great 
 and unavoidable, but that the success was, at last. 
 precarious and uncertain. It was evident to him, that 
 ids youth must be spent in solitude, and, perhaps, his 
 old age in poverty ; that his competitors were numer- 
 ous, and the prize could be gained but by a few. 
 
 Thus indolence prompted reflections tliat forboded. 
 ill fortune. " I will no longer endure," said he, 
 '^ this life of an hermit, I will raise what money I 
 can by the sale of my books, and with it procure for 
 myself the best situation it will afford, as a soldier in 
 the great Sultan's army; when I may spend my life, 
 without the annoyance of thought, in idleness and 
 dissipation ; where dress will be all my study, and 
 pleasure all my business." 
 
 Such were the reflectiims with which Hassan 
 amused himself, as he wandered by tiie side of a 
 river, under the shade of a grove of palm trees : the 
 sun was just setting, after a serene and beautiful day, 
 when seating himself on the bank, he cast his eye.s 
 around, to view the tranquil charms of the scene, and 
 perceived an aged person approaching him, cloathed 
 in a loose flowing robe of purple. Tiiis venerable 
 man made signs to him to follow. Hassan instantly 
 rose from his seat, as he saw by the whole appearance 
 of the stranger, that he had nothing to fear, and 
 directed his steps to join him : they soon quitted the 
 grove, and walking on for some space, a rocky moun- 
 tain appeared before them, which, till then, had been 
 hid from their sight by the wood. The Sage now 
 entered at a cavity in the rock, and Hassan followed 
 him ; they proceeded in darkness, through this gloomy 
 passage to a spacious apartment, which was furnished 
 in such a manner, as to show that it was the study of 
 a philosopher. The only light, by which the room 
 was illuminated, was from a lamp, which hung sus- 
 pended from the ceiling, in the centre of the chamber.
 
 g4, VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 As pliilosophers always make a point of wasting as 
 little time as possible, he turned towards Hassan, 
 and without further ceremony, thus addressed him : 
 *^ Young man, I can perceive that you are dissatisfied 
 with your lot in life, and wisli to change it; therefore 
 I have purposed to present you with a spectacle, 
 suited to the disposition of your mind at this time : 
 more from me would be unnecessary at present/' He 
 ilien drew aside a curtain, and discovered under it a 
 perspective glass, into which he desired liim to look. 
 Hassan readily obeyed the order, when, to his great 
 delight, he beheld a general officer marching at the 
 head of his well equipped and disciplined army; full 
 of spirits, just setting out on an expedition, in which 
 rich plunder was to be expected. A sight so very 
 congenial to the future views of Hassan was gratifying 
 in the utmost degree, and his heart glowing with 
 unusual warmth, he returned his acknowledgments to 
 the Sage for the pleasure he had received. *' Young 
 man,'' replied the philosopher, " you have seen but 
 half the picture, thank me when you have contem- 
 plated the whole ; scenes which will interest you much 
 are to come : look again into the same glass." Hassan 
 quickly complied, but his astonishment cannot be 
 described, when he beheld the change which had 
 taken place. Such a spectacle presented itself to view 
 as would have- struck the most obdurate heart with 
 dismay, and forced tears from eyes that never wept 
 before. At first the same General appeared and still 
 surrounded by a retinue, but now so changed, muti- 
 lated, and forlorn, that it was deplorable in the ex- 
 treme. Then followed scene after scene in melancholy 
 succession, representing all the varieties of war. In 
 these were shown the different fates of an infinite 
 number of young men, many of whom were born to 
 plentiful fortunes, and had been bred by tender 
 parents with every convenieucy and luxury, but now 
 were seen plunged into that abyss of misery which 
 ever lies open to the chances of war. Some starved 
 In loathsome hospitals and prisons, others dead in
 
 THE PAINTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER. g5 
 
 ditches and half devoured by dogs, many parched 
 and scarred by the explosion of gunpowder, vast 
 numbers drowned in rivers and the sea, and serving 
 as food for fishes, some mangled and hewed to pieces 
 by horrid wounds, some trampled to death under 
 horses' feet, and others begging bread on the road, 
 who after having spilt their blood and exposed their 
 lives to a thousand calamities, had not now wherewith 
 to carry them back to that home, which to their mis- 
 fortune they had so foolishly abandoned — one pitiable 
 scene was that of a young nobleman, who had been 
 killed by the bursting of a shell — " Ah," said the 
 Sage, " behold this unfortunate cavalier! A famous 
 astrologer had foretold by his art, that if this rash 
 youth had been wise enough to have remained at 
 home, he would have lived to the age of fourscore 
 years. AVretched mortal, what desperate and fatal 
 frenzy possessed thee to sell sixty years for a rupee !" 
 Hassan, now terrified by the awful succession of 
 horrid scenery, withdrew his aching eyes from the 
 sight, and scarcely able to support his own weight, 
 bowed with reverence and kissed the earth. ^^ Go," 
 said the Sage, ^' and learn patience: know that 
 labour and anxiety are the lot of mortals, and that 
 affluence and content are not the portion of the vain 
 or idle: learn to be satisfied with that station, of 
 which you know the evils, rather than run the hazard 
 of venturing on any other of which you have had no 
 experience." 
 
 This tale had a very salutary effect on the mind of 
 my querulous friend; he felt its full force, when, 
 ludicrously imitating the action of Hassan, he pros- 
 trated himself on the floor, kissed it, and treating me 
 as if I had been the real philosopher, took his formal 
 leave in a much better disposition than when he en- 
 tered.
 
 26 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 But for my own part I think there is another view 
 in which this moral lesson may be taken. As often as 
 I have coLteraplated this fable, it has filled my mind 
 with a succession of thoughts of a different kind. The 
 Sage when he presented this vision to the young man, 
 showed him that which is to come, to warn him for 
 his future good. 
 
 This glass represented equally that which is to 
 happen, as well as that which has already passed ; 
 and in like manner when I have by chance surveyed 
 a picture, representing some awful scene in history, 
 some event of time long passed, a melancholy reflec- 
 tion has crossed my mind, that similar wretchedness 
 to that which is depicted is again and again to hap- 
 pen; that the same causes remaining, the like effects 
 will follow : and most pitiable is it to reflect, that all 
 those dreadful examples, which have been so often 
 exhibited, should serve so little to forewarn us of our 
 danger, or move us sufficiently to strive against it, 
 even by the means which are yet left within out 
 power, so as to prevent, or in some degree lessen, the 
 mass of calamity which is ever generating in the 
 teeming womb of time. 
 
 There is a solemn pleasure in the mind, when it 
 contemplates the awful records of history ; when we 
 read the page or view the picture, we feel almost an 
 equal degree of interest to that which would be called 
 forth if the scene was actually passing before us at 
 the time; our anger is raised against those who have 
 acted basely, and equal pity towards those who have 
 suffered wrongs, although they have long been re- 
 moved beyond the reach of misery, and their existence 
 is only known to us in description and a name : yet we 
 cast no thought on iiiQ future victims of mischance, 
 and far from our minds at all times are sensations of 
 compassion for those who are to be the actors on the 
 world's great stage, thousands destined to become the 
 prey of innumerable calamities which ever struggle 
 for entrance at the gates of life to assail each new- 
 born heir of sorrow. Yet at first thought it should
 
 THE PAINTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER. 27 
 
 seem much more reasonable to feel compassion for 
 those who are yet to suffer than for those whose pains 
 are ended and over for ever. 
 
 It is surely an awful reflection to consider how 
 many temptations lie in wait to allure to destruction the 
 heedless victims of vice. How much uuspun misery 
 is yet on the distaff of Fate ! How big tlie womb of 
 Nature with unborn evil, that must be endured by 
 generatit)ns yet to come ! But our feelings are not of 
 that vivid kind as to operate, unless when stimulated 
 by examples which have been made clear to our 
 senses. 
 
 I have often contemplated, with melancholy, the 
 neglected excellencies of Hogarth, Wilson, Caracci, 
 Claude Lorraine, and others, who, while tliey lived 
 and could have enjoyed the benefits of their fame, met 
 only with poverty and contempt. I foresee, in their 
 sad example, the future sufferings of artists yet unborn, 
 "who will be obliged to suffer humbly a like fate, and 
 patiently to see the works of their predecessors (who 
 have passed their period of neglect) placed in the posts 
 of honor, and extolled as works divine, whilst their 
 own will be treated with coldness or contempt, al- 
 though, at the same time, some of them, at least, may 
 possess qualities of much higher excellence than many 
 of those productions to which bigotry, ignorance, 
 or interest will force them to give place. For the con- 
 stant example of the world will demonstrate, that 
 those very works, by which the artist, when living, 
 could procure neither emolument, attention, nor re- 
 spect, are, after his death, held up as objects of per- 
 fection, unattainable by any existing talents, while 
 the timorous claimant to excellence is treated with 
 scorn and derision. 
 
 " See nations slowly wise, and meanly just, 
 To buried merit raise tlie tardy bust."
 
 THE 
 
 SLIGHTED BEAUTY, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 ADVENTURES OF AN UNFORTUNATE I-ADY ; 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 A CONCISE VIEW 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PROGRESS OF THE FINE ARTS 
 
 JJV VARIOUS PARTS OF EUROPE. 
 
 " And what's her history ? 
 « A blank, my Lord." 
 
 Twelfth JVight, or what you wilL 
 
 3 B
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 SHADE, 
 
 MASTER OF ART, THE FRIEJ^D OF ARTISTS 
 AJVD OF MAJVKLXD. 
 
 May it please your Excellency, 
 
 Truly sensible of the abborrence in which 
 your Excellency holds every thing like show or os- 
 tentation, and that your chief delight is to sliun all no- 
 toriety, ever bestowing your patronage most liberally 
 on those only who possess diffidence, modesty, and 
 merit, I fear, by this public address, I shall intrude 
 on your repose, and I feel the impropriety of so doing; 
 yet being well assured tiiat ray work must ultimately 
 find its safest retreat under your all-powerful shelter, 
 and having also experienced so many favours from 
 the influence of your clemency, I am now emboldened 
 to lay this my production at your Excellency's feet ; 
 for if the brightest diamond seems to receive new 
 lustre in your presence, why should I not hope that 
 some benefit may accrue from it to ray work of paste : 
 and, added to this, that the opinions of ray friends, as 
 well as my enemies, most cordially concur with mine, 
 in placing my chief reliance on what your Excellency 
 may do for me, and they all acknowledge my pru- 
 dence in so doing. 
 
 I dare not hope for greater favour than you can 
 bestow ; therefore, of necessity, my labours must be 
 dedicated to you alone.
 
 3S DEDICATION. 
 
 That mildness in your nature, which makes you 
 screen the defects of all \vho crave your assistance, is 
 a characteristic mark of your benevolent disposition, 
 and i^ains you the love of all mankind. 
 
 Whilst the greatest of Kings or Emperors, quitting 
 awhile their dignily, and descending from their 
 tlirones, must court your favour, you most humbly 
 condescend to be the universal friend of every species 
 of wretchedness. 
 
 The most proliigate of sinners prostrate before you 
 implore your aid. 'Tis you who stand the only bul- 
 wark that misery can raise against insult. Nor is 
 your Excellency in the smaller acts of humanity less 
 ample in your mercy. How often does the poor 
 Artist, in the difficulties of his profession, fly to you 
 for succour; who receive him with compassion, soften 
 all his misdeeds, conceal those deformities which he 
 cannot mend, unite and connect his dissipated mate- 
 rials, and if nothing better can be done, you hide him 
 from derision, disgrace, and scorn. 
 
 Kind protector of the simple, safe friend of the 
 weak, who, under your auspices, are exposed neither 
 to danger nor contempt, whilst shame and confusion 
 await those rash fools who rush headlong from your 
 retreats, still keep me in your favour! and when at 
 last my mortal course is finished, and I am become 
 wholly devoted to you, then, in pity to my imperfec- 
 tions, kindly unite with Time and Death to soften thcr 
 memory of all my errors past! 
 
 May it please your Excellency, 
 I am, my Lord, 
 
 With bounden duty, 
 Your Excellency's most humble slave, 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 And a Fiuend to the Slighted Beauty^ 
 From my Skij-light, 
 Feb.W, 1811,
 
 THE 
 
 SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Rei simulacrum et imago 
 Ante oculos semper nobis versatur et instat 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The person whose history I here relate, is well 
 known to many; therefore, as we are able, we ought 
 to be willing to assist our friend by every lau liable 
 means in our power; and, those who understand her 
 sorrows, ought to become her champions, prove her 
 blameless before the world, and shew that her low 
 and degraded condition is not her fault, but her mis- 
 fortune only ; and that, by a little attention and decent 
 good usaa;e, she might have become the ornament of 
 the kingdom and the delight of Europe, 
 
 The matter, to which I solicit tlie attention of com- 
 passionate readers, is what is commonly called a case. 
 It is the true and most piteous case of a Slighted 
 Beauty, who is not yet quite dead, and therefore may 
 be recovered and restored to her friends. I have con- 
 cealed her name by her own desire, because she, with 
 her usual sweetness and modesty, said, she did not 
 wish to come before the public as a complaining suf- 
 ferer, but chose to pine in obscurity, rather than ap- 
 pear as an impertinent intruder; — that was her very 
 expression. I candidly told her, I was unused to 
 writing, and therefore much feared I should not do
 
 3^ VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 her cause that justice which it deserved. " Ah !'' said 
 she, " we must depend ^on the force of truth alone, 
 which may do more, and make a greater impression 
 on the tender-hearted, than even eloquence itself; for 
 I have often observed, that simple and unadorned 
 truth has in its nature a power which neither the 
 highest art nor most fertile invention can supply ; and 
 sorrow sometimes makes even silence her best aid, 
 and her best orator." 
 
 I sat a good while with her, and we had a long 
 consultation on what would be the best and most 
 effectual mode of delivering her story, so as to draw 
 attention from an idle or a busy world; and, in the 
 end, she kindly paid me tlie compliment to say, that 
 she should place full confidence in my will, as well 
 as in ray power, and left me entirely to my own dis- 
 cretion to act as I thought best. 
 
 I have, therefore, related her case in the manner of 
 a narrative, from the time of her birth to the moment I 
 was sitting at her bed-side, where she was confined 
 by a sad cold, caught, I believe, by wearing wet 
 shoes. 
 
 I have so sincere a friendship for this lady, that I 
 am filled with apprehensions of not having given her 
 case that entertaining and attractive air, which might 
 create an interest for her suffering virtues, and make 
 her painful situation sufficiently known for her own 
 benefit. I was always a great lover of strict and hard 
 truth, and have told her disastrous history without 
 any of those beautifying incidents which captivate the 
 polite readers of the present day. This compendium 
 of sorrows is no novel of invention, from which are to 
 be expected astonishing adventures and hair-breadth 
 escapes ; it contains no scenes of disappointment and 
 distracted love, no display of unexampled villainy, no 
 ghosts, witches, enchantments, foundlings, sentimental 
 court ladies, philosophers, waiting-maids, lords, game- 
 sters, assassins, or inn-keepers. Moreover, the per- 
 fections and imperfections of my unfortunate friend 
 are here set down without fancied or fantastic ex-
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 35 
 
 aggerations. In short, the whole interest must depend 
 on its being received as a simple and true statement 
 of her sad case ; and I now deliver it to the world, 
 with the hope it may be of service to her, equal to my 
 wish to serve her. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of the Education and personal Perfections of our 
 Heroine and how she became the adopted Daughter 
 of a Sovereign Prince. 
 
 The enchanting, but unfortunate young lady, whose 
 memoirs are the subject of the following sad pages, 
 was not more eminent for her extraordinary accom- 
 plishments, than for the ill-treatment wliich she has 
 experienced in her progress through life; and which 
 ill-treatment is the more to be marvelled at, when we 
 take into consideration tlie auspicious appearance of 
 her early years, and the fortunate circumstances which 
 attended them; all which I shall presently relate. 
 
 As to her birtli, no very clear account of it can be 
 given; but her family is said to be of very great 
 antiquity, and she herself is supposed to be descend- 
 ed, in a direct line, from the great Apelles, of ever- 
 lasting fame. This, I believe, is a literal truth, and 
 no false emblazonment made out through thick and 
 thin, in imitation of those liberal minded gentlemen, 
 the heralds, who possess so much of the milk of 
 human kindness, that they make but little difficulty in 
 decorating with two or three hundred years of an- 
 cestry those lucky children of poverty who have 
 gained high titles, no matter how; whether by virtue, 
 or by vice. It is fully suflRcient for my purpose, to 
 inform the gentle reader, that the family of our heroine 
 had indeed lain for a very long time in obscurity, 
 and, as I may say, under a cloud; but its character 
 was still so much respected in the country in which
 
 36 ^ VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 she was born, tliat no sooner was her birth declared, 
 than she was adopted by the sovereign, and imme- 
 diately intrusted to tlie care of a venerable matron, to 
 whose extraordinary virtues and knowledge, he him- 
 self was indebted, not only for the great strength he 
 had acquired in his limbs during his infancy, but also 
 for the surprising influence which he afterwards 
 gained in his own dominions, and those of his neigh- 
 bours; and happy would it have been for him, and 
 for the rest of mankind, if he had continued to con- 
 form to her sage counsels, and had not indulged him- 
 self in so many of his own capricious whims and 
 fancies as he afterwards shewed ; for he was a prince 
 of despotic power, and of the highest order of sov- 
 ereigns. 
 
 This potentate was somewhat singular in his char- 
 acter ; and it is necessary that I should inform the 
 reader of some of tliose singularities, that he may 
 have the clearer idea of the kind of education and 
 manner of life in which our young heroine was 
 brought up under this fond patron. 
 
 In the first place, he might be considered, without 
 any dispute, as the most learned prince in Europe, 
 having a consummate knowledge of the world; a 
 master of politics; and, for all matters of taste, ex- 
 quisite in his perceptions beyond all competition; and 
 so supreme was his dominion, (in his own opinion, at 
 least,) that he conceived he had not only the command 
 over the bodies of his subjects, but that their souls also 
 were at his disposal. Notwithstanding all this, there 
 was such a mildness in his government over all those 
 who acknowledged his whimsical authority, that his 
 indulgencies became a proverb ; for he has often and 
 often been known to grant a free pardon to such as 
 most richly deserved to have been hanged, and, more- 
 over, to bestow his blessing on them. But then he 
 could not bear the least contradiction, and, on fre- 
 quent occasions, would fall into paroxysms of rage, 
 and pour out such a volley of frightful oaths and 
 curses, that it would have made your hair stand an
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 37 
 
 end only to have heard them. He would most gladly 
 have seen the objects of his wrath burnt to a cinder 
 without mercy, and actually has coramanded those 
 deeds of cruelty to be executed on certain culprits, 
 when he could lay hold on them ; whicli made all 
 those who had oflfended him keep out of his reach. 
 Yet, that he was a wise prince, cannot be denied, in 
 spite of the many odd humours to which I have said 
 he was subject; one of which was, that he would al- 
 ways persist in wearing three crowns upon his head 
 at one and the same time. He was also surprizingly 
 devout, and spent a very large portion of his time in 
 prayer and religious ceremonies; for he was the su- 
 preme head of liis church, and supremely partial to 
 its interest and aggrandisement. To this is to be 
 added, that whatever end he desired to gain, was 
 sought for by any species of means best fitted to his 
 purpose; sometimes by eminent learning, piety, or 
 virtue; sometimes by art and cunning; and sometimes 
 he gained his wish by the mere chance of good for 
 tune. 
 
 Such, then, was the nature of tliat court in which 
 our favoured heroine received the first impressions on 
 her mind; but, although thus nursed hy Fortune, and 
 assisted by powerful patronage and adoption, all 
 seemed less than her deserts, and, when balanced in 
 the scale against her own various accomplishments^ 
 was but as chaif weighed against gold. 
 
 Her person, even from her childhood, was beautiful, 
 and, as she grew up, became a model of the most 
 perfect proportion. Indeed^ it was a common saying, 
 that the Medicean Venus might have passed for her 
 portrait, or that she herself had heen formed from that 
 statue. Her mind was not less accomplislied than her 
 body, and each seemed to strive with the other for 
 pre-eminence. The gracefulness of her action was 
 like that to be seen in the liighest eiforts of design by 
 Parmegiano, accompanied by a melting softness and 
 sweetness, such as we find only in the pictures of 
 Correggio, and which cannot be described by words. 
 3 G
 
 38 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 The faseinalins; cxpi-ession of Iter eyes and coiinle' 
 nance, niii:;hl vie nilli the utmost exertions of the 
 j)encil of Raphael liimself, and was attended with all 
 Iiis simplicity; and the textnre of her skin, and glow 
 of her complexion, can only be compared to the hap- 
 \)iest tints of Titian. AVhen slie became animated by 
 extraordinary events, she could assume a dignity of 
 deportment tiiat would astouisli, and raise herself to 
 be on a par with the snldiraity of Michael Angelo : 
 then, again, soften into all the exfpjisite feminine mild- 
 ness, beauty, or patient piety, expressed by Guido or 
 Domenichino. ller dress was regulated l)y that taste, 
 which no ride can give or controul: it comprehended 
 all the advantages of the ancient statues; it displayed 
 all the perfectiojis of iier exquisite form, yet seemed 
 like the garb of purity itself. She despised all trivial 
 ornaments, and indeed, as the poet says, appeared 
 '* most adorned*' without them. Siie was, from her 
 cradle, the subject of universal admiration, yet flattery 
 never made iier vain to her detriment: it only in- 
 creased her desire to deserve praise; beautiful with- 
 out conceit, graceful without ailectation, playful w ilh- 
 out vulgarity, grand without arrogance, soft without 
 weakness, and wise without austerity. 
 
 Thus accom'plislied, it is natural to sup|>ose that 
 she must have been sought after and cotirted by 
 princes of the greatest kingdoms, and that happiness 
 must have been her lot; but this record will serve to 
 shew, how uncertain are all the fortunes of this life. 
 Her patron father had often promised to deck her 
 w ith piincely honours and titles; but various accidents 
 interrupted those intentions, so that they never came 
 to completion. I observed before, that from her earli- 
 est infancy, she had been intrusted to the care of a 
 w ise and prudent governess, one w ho had dedicated 
 herself to the holy offices of the church; and her 
 scholar, educated by her in all its solemnities, had 
 acquired a kind of awful, pensive dignity of demean- 
 our, w hich, like nature itself, pervaded her behaviour 
 in every action, and gave a grace that seemed divine.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 
 
 3^ 
 
 As she was the adopted daughter of a princely falher, 
 who, it must he rememhered, was high-priest as woll 
 as temporal sovereign of his empire, most of her time. 
 in compliance with his pleasure as well as her own 
 gratification, was dedicated to the pious service of the, 
 church, in which she assisted, and adorned it with 
 surpassing skill, judgment, and taste. This gained 
 lier universaladmiration, and tiie homage paid to her 
 was carried to such an extent, that it only fell short 
 of raising altars to her name. 
 
 CHAPTER* lir. 
 
 How our Heroine grew tired of her father^ s CouH^ 
 and hoiv she set out on her Travels to see the 
 World. 
 
 The eminence and fame of our fair lady soon he- 
 came the universal topic of conversation, and she was 
 earnestly solicited by the greatest personages to visit 
 every kingdom of Europe. This highly gratified her 
 only foible (if it may so be deemed.) a little tincture of 
 the romantic, which produced a desire to wander into 
 countries known to her merely by their names; and 
 when thus pressetl on every side, so consistently with 
 her own inclination, no wonder if she easily yielded, 
 and formed the resolution to become a traveller and 
 see the world. Thus determined, she soon afterwanU 
 quitted her father's court, accompanied by lier faithful 
 protectress, who was firmly attaciied to her by the 
 strongest ties of friendship, and a kind of parental 
 affection. Bhe received her father's benediction at 
 her departure, and, by his command, a splendid 
 retinue in the service of the church attended in her 
 train. She rested at mnst of tlie cities in the districts 
 under her father's dominion, and conducted herself so 
 admirably, that she was treated with little less rev- 
 erence than that wliich would liave been paid to him-
 
 40 • VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 self if present. — She also made a visit to Venice, 
 where she continued for some time, appearing in great 
 splendour; and it was remarked, that the front of her 
 palace was most superbly ornaraente<l, [and that no- 
 body had ever before hoisted sucli brilliant colours on 
 their gondola. — She tlience took the route of Germany, 
 and shortly after arrived in that country, where she 
 was likewise received with the utmost possible marks 
 of respect, and every honour was paid her agreeably 
 to the dignity of her origin and connections, and her 
 own virtues and accomplishments. What added 
 eminently to the grandeur of her appearance (which 
 seemed to claim respect above a mortal) was the 
 religious retinue, which still attended on her, and 
 threw a sacred air over her, which excluded all idle 
 and vulgar intruders. 
 
 But here we may observe the ill consequences of 
 a circumstance which particularly affects those who 
 are not of age sufficiently mature to have their habits 
 fixed. In Germany, she had no longer those high 
 examples of conduct before her, which she was wont 
 to contemplate and imitate ; and, being suddenly de- 
 prived of those, she scarcely knew at first how to deport 
 herself, and her manner became stiff', dry, and awk- 
 ward; and when she shook off this, and attempted 
 grace and greatness, she only made the matter worse, 
 by running into absolute affectation and ranting bom- 
 bast. — She soon quitted this region, to gratify Spain 
 with the honor of her presence; and when there, as if 
 inspired by that grave and dignified people, she be- 
 came herself again: her whole conduct, during her 
 stay in the country, Avas a display of piety, dignity, 
 and genius. She was accordingly treated with singu- 
 lar attention, and loaded with honors and with profit. 
 She was still iiiuler the guidance of her faithful gov- 
 erness, and in no period of her life did she shew her- 
 self a more laudible example of universal imitation : 
 it is no wonder, tlierefore, that, though urged by curi- 
 osity anil strong desire to proceed on her travels, she 
 could not leave Spain without regret. — She quitted
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. • 41 
 
 it at length for Flanders, where she assumed a new 
 appearance and mode of carriage. In this country it 
 was that she made the first considerable departure 
 from her original dignity and gravity of character. 
 Owing to the free manners of the people with wliom 
 she consorted, and to the continuance of absence from 
 her father's controul, she seemed by degrees (in lier 
 own apprehension at least) more at liberty to act for 
 herself; and, being inexperienced in the world, she 
 saw every thing in a new light, and felt great enjoy- 
 ment in the state of freedom which she conceived she 
 had attained. She found herself perfectly cleared 
 from the stateliness, and (as it now seemed) gloomy 
 <lignity of the solemn institutions to which she had 
 dedicated her first studies. Her deportment from this 
 time began to alter greatly. One of the first symptoms 
 remarkable in tiiis change, was the prodigious fond- 
 ness she shewed for dress and every species of finery, 
 so very contrary to any thing of the kind which had 
 hitlierto manifested itself in her disposition, except 
 when at Venice, where she had acquired great credit 
 by the brilliancy of her appearance : a circumstance 
 which now encouraged her to carry it to excess, to 
 the equal surprise and grief of her faithful protectress, 
 who one day saw her going into public dressed out 
 with silks and ribbands, vvhicli contained every gaudy 
 colour of the rainbow ; red, blue, yellow, purple, 
 green, orange, as if striving vvhich should sliew the 
 brightest, were fioating in the air in all directions at 
 every step slie took. She shewed also a prodigious 
 love for flowers, and frequently would adorn herself 
 with such enormous nosegays, that at times you could 
 not see lier face for them. All this fondness for shewy 
 colours gave inexpressible trouble to her prudent 
 guardian, who w«>uld often enter into discourse on 
 the subject, and finish with long and most saga 
 cious lectures and admonitions. She observed to her, 
 how much such frippery took from dignity, obscured 
 real beauty, betrayed a vulgar taste, and was wholly 
 incompatible with a character of importance, or even
 
 4a VARIETIES ON ART. - 
 
 of chastity. But all this was said in vain: Miss was 
 enamoured of a rainbow, and nothing seemed likely 
 to cure her of her fancy. Her sage adviser had only 
 the consolation of remarking, that she always kept 
 herself extremely clean, and that she had so judicious- 
 ly assorted those glowing hues, that they wonderfully 
 set off each other. But the most odd part was, that 
 she would not give up the pleasure of showing off in 
 those bright tints, how much soever the circumstances 
 of her situation seemed to demand it; and often went 
 in her favourite gaudy dress to accompany the mourn- 
 ers at a funeral, where, if she wept, she still looked 
 
 She was now become a buxom, langhnig joknig 
 girl; romped with the men, and so much enjoyed 
 herself, that she ate and drank in such sort as to grow 
 enormously lusty, and soon became nearly as broad 
 as she was high. The beauties and graces of the 
 Grecian contour were now no longer to be discerned : 
 the whole form was lost in the quantity of flesh, which 
 engrossed her once delicate and graceful limbs, and 
 her brawny shoulders, fat elbows, and cherry cheeks, 
 appeared as red as a brickbat. 
 
 In derision, her companions gave her the nick-name 
 of t\ie flesh shambles. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 How the beautiful Wanderer became so well pleased 
 with Travelling, that she would go on with it ; also 
 of the pithy Mvice that was given her by her old 
 JJuenna, who would uoigo on with her. 
 
 Our Beauty became so gay, and so well pleased 
 with these first essays of her travels, that nothing 
 would satisfy her humour, but she would proceed in 
 quest of new adventures : and, at first, she concluded 
 (hat her pious companion would still have attended
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 4,3 
 
 her; but, on the question being put, the answer was 
 an absolute refusal, accompanied with a thousand 
 entreaties that she would not thus court disaster, 
 penury, and contempt, nor obtrude herself an unwel- 
 come visitor in strange countries. But, buoyed up by 
 success and flattery, and still impelled by curiosity, 
 she turned a deaf ear to every argument m hich could 
 be ojffered against her darling wish; for she was filled 
 "with the notion of her own consequence, and suffi- 
 ciently convinced in her mind that she should meet 
 with a joyful reception in whatever place she deigned 
 to bless with her presence ; and, in spite of all dan- 
 gers, she resolved to go on, although alone, (her 
 religious retinue having now left her,) unfriended, 
 and without a guide : like another Minerva, slie was 
 above those weaknesses so common to tiie female sexi 
 and she became very impatient till the hour was fixed, 
 at which she was to pursue her wandering project. 
 When, at last, the time of her departure was arrived, 
 the final leave which took place between her and her 
 sacred friend, hitherto her protectress, was very af- 
 fecting, and many tears were siied on each part. 
 Nothing could prevail on the devotee to accompany 
 her ward one step further; but she wept and em- 
 braced, and embraced and wept again : she implored 
 Heaven that every blessing might attend on all her 
 beloved wanderer's ways; — '• But many,'' said she, 
 ^^ are the sad forebodings of my mind, that all your 
 days of good are past, never more to return. When 
 both religion and the church have forsaken you, 1 
 much fear a curse will light upon your head. — Poor 
 unfortunate child! will you urge your fate? Will you 
 seek the land where you will cry in vain for succour? 
 Thy soft voice cannot, will not, be heard in the 
 world's tumult; nor can the intrinsic benefits of thy 
 great faculties, when dimly seen (most assuredly) 
 under the cloud of adversity, appear to be sufficiently 
 important to claim the notice of a state. 
 
 " My darling child," contiimed she, ^' pray you, 
 take care ! Do not descend to mean and servile tricks ;
 
 <J4 VARIETIES ON ART, 
 
 rather embrace poverty, even to death, than submit to 
 such resources. Remember the dignity of your ex- 
 traction, the purity of your education, and the high 
 importance of your first employments. Regard ever 
 with reverential awe those powers which Heaven liag 
 intrusted to your guidance, and use tliem only for the 
 best and purest services of mankind, as you were 
 wont to do heretofore. 
 
 *' I have reason to think your prudence already 
 lessened, but much I fear that in other countries it 
 will be wholly lost. I but too plainly foresee that 
 you will be reduced to the extreme verge of want, 
 and therefore will abandon yourself to all the imperi- 
 ous caprices of the ignorant or the rich. How dif- 
 ferent was once your state, under the protection, the 
 splendid influence of a beneficient, an indulgent father ! 
 one of such acknowledged judgment and taste, who 
 loved to see you in the full exertion of your talents, 
 displaying them with that dignity which ever must 
 accompany their services in the cause of devotion and 
 of heroic virtue ! No longer is thy elevated mind to be 
 employed in awful contemplation on the divine mis- 
 sions of prophets and apostles, no more to be enwrapt 
 in heavenly glories of descending angels o'er the 
 Saviour of the world, nor evermore to be called in 
 aid to represent the sacred extasies of expiring saints 
 and holy martyrs ! — Go, go, presumptuous, friendless, 
 orphan! — (0 cutting, mortifying, reflection!) — Go, 
 and meet thy future doom, to aid the vulgar mirth of 
 boors in their hovels, and join their dance to ill-played 
 tunes on fiddles and on bagpipes; to repeat their 
 childish humours, and be thy very self no more! Go, 
 keep a small ware shop, be the retailer of ribbands and 
 of frippery; turn milliner, and watch the passing 
 moment of the mode, lest it perish ere you catch it! 
 Thus become the historian of the idle; and remember 
 that, like a stage- dancer, you keep a fixed eternal 
 smirk upon your face, lest you should be thought too 
 grave, and tliereby disgust your customers. — Prepare 
 thyself for all this, for this, I predict; will be thy fate.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 45 
 
 " Little do you know or reflect on the value of your 
 protectress, whom you now quit and lose for ever, and 
 with her all your earthly importance; for with myself 
 I shall withdraw that sacred veil in which you seemed 
 to be enshrined ; you will become now no better than 
 a forlorn, abandoned wanderer, a vagabond, an out- 
 cast! You will find, my child, by sad experience, 
 that you have lost your terrestrial paradise : it is a 
 rude world that lies before you, in which to seek 
 yoUr dwelling-place, and folly for your guide. — 
 Farewell, my daughter! farewell for ever!" Her 
 voice was choaked, and she turned away, bathed in a 
 flood of useless tears. 
 
 Thus finished the remonstrance of the enthusiastic 
 devotee. Our young heroine also shed tears ; but 
 these, like the showers of spring, were soon dried up, 
 and their cause as soon forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Hoiv the Beauty continued her Travels, and how the 
 Author cannot tell whither, but supposes it was to 
 England; and of the strange Adventures she met 
 with there. 
 
 At this period of our Beauty^s history, a doubt 
 occurs, which it will puzzle future connoisseurs and 
 antiquaries to clear up; and in distant ages, when 
 this renowned and ever-to-be-remembered history 
 becomes the subject of the remarks, annotations, and 
 animadversions of future critics, whose grandfathers 
 are yet unborn, it will then, 1 say, be found, that the 
 author did not know whether the fair wanderer's first 
 visit, after she quitted Flanders, was to France or 
 England; and, for any help that I can give them, it 
 must remain in eternal obscurity, as siie herself never 
 informed me, and I, from my profound respect to her, 
 never presumed to trouble her with any inquiries, 
 
 o D
 
 46 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 ftMiiug I might give offence. I received whatever she 
 chose to relate to me, and only added to it from my 
 own certain knowledge of her adventures. Thus, 
 then, it stands; for 1 would not, in this my unbiassed, 
 unadulterated, unsophisticated, and true history, given 
 to the best of my knowledge, relate a single incident, 
 when I was not fully convinced of its authenticity. 
 
 It is a certain fact, however, that both these king- 
 doms of England and France obtained the honour of 
 her presence, as 1 sliall hereafter shew. And I must 
 also observe, that to whichever it was she paid the 
 lirst visit, it makes no material difference in regard to 
 the great and important purpose for which I became 
 the humble historian of her chequered life. There- 
 fore, to proceed without further interruption, I shall 
 conclude that her next visit was paid to England, 
 which country, for certain, she had long desired to 
 see ; and it is equally certain, that, at her arrival, she 
 was received with the kindest welcome, and, at first, 
 every appearance seemed to be in her favour; for it is 
 with pleasure I am able to say, that, during lier abode 
 in our country, she was flattered by the addresses of 
 no less than two admirers, (at different periods,) both 
 of the highest rank in the kingdom. The first of thes6 
 received and clierished her, when but a stranger in 
 the land, with tokens of the highest regard; though, 
 in the end, he became her real enemy, and gave a 
 fatal blow to her interest in this country ; for he was 
 in his nature a fickle tyrant, and bad treated his 
 wives no better; for out of six, which he had married, 
 he cruelly murdered two, yet persisted in saying they 
 died a proper de^th, and so got rid of the vile busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Her next admirer was a man of t)ie most accom- 
 plished manners, of high taste, refined mind, and 
 possessed of a thousand virtues. She loved him 
 sincerely, but lost him by an untimely death, so un- 
 deserved, that the awful recollection is terrible. An 
 enthusiastic crew assassinated him, and tlien seized 
 on all his property, and possessed themselves of all
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 47 
 
 his power. This event threw her into such a deplora- 
 ble state of melancholy and despondence, that it had 
 very nearly cost her her life. She mourned his loss 
 not only as her lover, but also as her protector, friend, 
 and patron ; for, had he lived longer, he would liave 
 aggrandized her to the utmost of her wislies. But 
 there had been no opportunity, during the short period 
 of their acquaintance, for him to give her that high 
 importance to which she had been accustomed in her 
 early days; and, at last, his own affairs became so 
 embarrassed, that it was no longer in his power. But 
 he loved and encouraged her endeavours, and afforded 
 her a thousand opportunities of displaying her ex- 
 quisite taste, judgment, and fine genius; and happy 
 were all her days until his fatal death ! — What also 
 at the time increased her calamity, (already too great,) 
 was, that those who laid claim to his effects, as his 
 successors, immediately set about to wreak their ut- 
 most vengeance on all his late favourites, and on her- 
 self amongst the rest. Indeed, she was the particular 
 object of their abomination ; first, for her own sake, 
 for they could discern no virtues which she possessed ; 
 next, because she had been the favourite of their pre- 
 decessor; and lastly, on account of her father, to theni 
 most detestable, whom they called by the formidable 
 appellation of the Scarlet Whore of Babylon. In 
 short, they conceived such an inveterate hatred against 
 her, that they lost no time in satisfying their fury, but 
 posted suddenly away to her place of residence, and 
 broke into the house with an intent, if possible, to 
 have annihilated her at once : but by good luck she 
 escaped out of their hands alive, though not tilt iier 
 clothes were almost torn oft* her body. After having 
 thus frightened her into flight, they directed their 
 vengeance against all Jhat appertained to her, and 
 instantly made seizure of every particle of her proper- 
 ty, which at the time was very considerable; and this 
 was done, not with the intention to make any use of 
 it for their own good, but merely by way of express- 
 ing their inveterate spite and detestation of her power,
 
 48 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 Leing tastelessly insensible to her merits. They, with 
 violent and rude hands, tore down all the beautiful 
 ornaments and hangings of the rooms, which they 
 burnt or broke to pieces, and wished to have done it 
 before her face : they also demolished every bit of 
 painted glass in all the windows, only because it had 
 been placed there by her desire. Then, filled with 
 all that confidence of superiority and pride, which 
 conceit andjgnorance only can bestow, they paused; 
 and, blessing themselves while they surveyed the 
 precious ruin, turning up the whites of tlieir puritani- 
 cal eyes in pious ecstacy of zeal, cried, " Now be- 
 hold the downfall of this vile harlot's witchery and 
 popish charms! No more shall such vicious trumpery 
 disgrace our venerable walls; let them in future be all 
 pure, and plain white-wash; or, if they ever are to be, 
 discoloured, let it be by natural damps, black smoke, 
 or green mildew ; for true devotion can defy all filth ! 
 No popish stuflfnor show for us ! And we also prophe- 
 cy, that our pure example shall be observed, and 
 imitated (in this our country at least) till time shall 
 be no more !" 
 
 It might have been expected, that after all this was 
 done, their rage would iiave been satiated: but no; 
 they were not content with destroying her substance, 
 and driving her from her habitation, but they also 
 vowed their utmost vengeance against all those who 
 should dare even to give her harbour, and aimed at 
 starving her to death, or at least driving iier out of 
 the country; and they still heightened the bitterness 
 of her calamity by the addition of most virulent abuse, 
 inventing a thousand falsehoods to her prejudice, and 
 setting all the neighbourhood against her; accusing 
 her of profligacy, saying they were well assured of 
 Iier w icked life and conversation ; that she had con- 
 nived with, and assisted, a diabolical old wizard — a 
 father, as she called him, and had been his chief 
 instrument to inoculate the world with sin, by pro- 
 moting and assisting all his vile juggling tricks, and 
 had given a helping hand to all his impostures; that
 
 THE' SLIGHTED BEAtTY ^ 
 
 she was no better than a sorceress, ami that none of her 
 wicked arts should ever in future be played on their 
 premises; that she was a vile limb of the devil, and 
 trained to serve his evil purposes ; that she deserved 
 no less punishment than excommunication, and there- 
 fore was, by their supreme order and decree, from 
 that moment excommunicated and curst out of church, 
 and solemnly forbid ever again to enter its gates. 
 
 These pious tyrants next levelled their vengeance 
 at a person who was only her cousin- germau. He 
 was one who possessed great talents, had been for 
 some time settled in the kingdom, and was become a 
 man of considerable consequence, having acquired 
 the dignity of a doctor in the universities. This 
 victim they now doomed to share nearly the same fate 
 with our Beauty. He was accordingly most rudely 
 turned out of the church, on the charge of having 
 practised a vile habit of whistling jigs there in ser- 
 vice-time; besides which, they had much other matter 
 to urge against his conduct, such as that he was a 
 noisy, inflated, roaring, empty fellow, with a voice 
 like a trumpet, insomuch that, wherever he was 
 present, nothing could be heard but himself. Thus, 
 by the loudness of his voice alone, he could force into 
 silence the gravest preacher or the gayest wit; that 
 he was a great encourager of hops and dancing meet- 
 ings, in which he was sure always to be one amongst 
 the thickest of them ; that he was fond of singing what 
 is called a good song in company, to the great delight 
 of sinners, and the great annoyance of the trembling 
 saints. 
 
 All this, antl more, was uttered by the pious, in 
 their wrath against Iiim, on his being cast out from 
 amongst them, as an abomination to their tabernacle. 
 
 He cared, however, very little for this spiteful crew 
 of enemies, as he was a light-hearted, well-meaning, 
 pleasant fellow, and was always sure of a welcome 
 wherever he came ; for he had such a fascinating pow^ 
 er, that the men followed him with delight, and as to 
 ladies, they were all in love with him to distraction ;
 
 90 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 insomuch iliat, in a very few years after this, he got 
 again into favour, and was caressed and cherished 
 even in the heart of the church, and, although he was 
 of a gay and expensive turn, yet he was never left in 
 want of either meal or money. 
 
 But it was far otlierwise in the case of our unfortu- 
 nate Beauty ; the antipathy to her was inveterate and 
 lasting : when she was dismissed by the church, it was 
 to return no more ; — She was, indeed, the veriest 
 sport of Fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How the Beauty makes a sudden retreat into Holland, 
 and of the strangeness of her whims in that coun- 
 try. 
 
 Our fair heroine, being reduced to the miserable 
 plight in which we left her, was obliged to quit 
 England as soon as possible, or it would have been 
 worse for her. " The rich," says a certain author, 
 " may revenge themselves with arms ; the poor have 
 only tears." 
 
 She skulked about for a short time in a starving 
 state, and then fled into Holland, where, being by this 
 time pretty much humbled through her late afflictions, 
 she was, from stern necessity, determined for the 
 present to conform her manners entirely to the humours 
 of the people, who were so much her friends as to re- 
 ceive her and give her harbour. — Now, as a fallen 
 angel, shorn of her rays, she no longer beamed with 
 holy splendour. Her original dignity, though it never 
 forsook her, was for a time totally forgotten. Like 
 the cameleon, she seemed only to crawl upon the 
 earth, reflecting the image of whatever was nearest to 
 her. She sung and she danced, she played childish 
 the fooleries with the boors, and many tricks she prac- 
 tised, all in a most enchanting manner. Among these,
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 51 
 
 were her surprizing feats by candle-light, wliich she 
 performed often to the infinite pleasure of all the spec- 
 tators. She also practised in artificial flower-making 
 with surprizing success : indeed her fruit and flowers 
 would equally deceive and delight the dilettante, or 
 still greater connoisseur, the insect. She gamed, 
 smoaked, and sometimes even fought with the most 
 vulgar in their carousing booths, and imitated all their 
 manners to the life : she no longer prided herself on 
 grace, beauty, or even on being a human figure; in 
 truth, you would scarcely have recognized her origin- 
 al person : she now seemed without form, from the 
 quantity of her petticoats — absolutely a shapeless wal- 
 let with feet, hands, and a face — but she captivated 
 the crowd, and they rewarded her in return, not in- 
 deed with splendour, but with plenty. 
 
 It was about this time (I think) that she received a 
 most pressing invitation to pay a visit to France, where 
 every indulgence was promised her, and where she 
 was assured that every caprice of her humour would 
 be regarded with delight and applause. Such fair 
 offers from that gay country soon prevailed, and she 
 accordingly made preparations for a speedy departure. 
 
 CHAPTER Vll. 
 
 What a Fool the Beauty was in France ; and what a 
 Fool she was to leave France. 
 
 We have already seen the great change in our 
 Beauty's conduct, as compared with her former char- 
 acter; her example proved most conspicuously the old 
 proverb, that " evil communications corrupt good man- 
 ners;" and it will be found that in France she still 
 upheld its truth, having in her disposition from nature, 
 a strong desire to indulge all those who paid court to 
 her. The sagacious reader must have already made 
 the remark, that, in every country in which she re-
 
 5S VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 sided, she always subdued her own better knowledge, 
 judgment, manners, or even virtues, in order to please, 
 and was hunildy content to become tlie mere echo, as 
 1 may term it, of the nation with wliom she was to 
 live, and by whom she was to be supported. She 
 could not bear to be neglected, neither could she exist 
 without pecuniary aid, and for those weighty reasons 
 alone, was always forced to be the true mirror of tlie 
 people, and reflect back to them (heir own image. It 
 was as necessary to do this, as to speak tlieir language, 
 especially when she was amongst those whom the 
 inherent dignity of her own nature had no powers to 
 charm. 
 
 But to proceed in our history. AVe now find the 
 fair heroine safely arrived in France, where she was 
 but too soon obliged to adopt all the modes and frivol- 
 ous airs of that volatile nation. None of her changes 
 were more surprizing or more quickly executed; she 
 seemed presently to be one of their own creation. 
 She dressed and simpered with the gayest, and when 
 she chose to appear grave, would quickly assume an 
 elegant desponding air, would lay herself down in an 
 attitude of the most studied grace, on a gilded sopha, 
 canopied with festoons of jessamine and roses; — she 
 painted her cheeks, and bit her lips to make them red, 
 and, prettily lisping, talked as if she was a forsaken, 
 half naked, Arcadian shepherdess. — Sometimes, she 
 fancied herself Yenus attended by the Graces, with a 
 flight of little playful Cupids floating round her ; at 
 other times she would deck herself out in a helmet 
 and armour made of foil and gilt leather, with a 
 truncheon in one hand and paper thunder-bolts in the 
 other, strut about her apartments, and call herself 
 Minerva or .luno, talk of Homer, and give herself 
 such airs, tiiat you would have taken her for one 
 crazed in her wits. Tlien again she affectedly as- 
 sumed all the solemn gravity of religion: then quickly 
 dressed herself like Harlequin or Columbine, and 
 looked just as if she was about to dance a jig in a 
 booth before a puppet-show. In short, I cannot but
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 03 
 
 own, that, during her abode in France, she at times 
 made herself more justly a subject of ridicule and 
 contempt, than in any other country she had visited 
 — her conceit and affectation were so great. Never- 
 theless she was well received throughout the whole 
 kingdom, and was courted, caressed, and handsomely 
 rewarded, so as to pass her days in affluence and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Yet, to do her character all justice, it must be con- 
 fessed, that during the part of her time in France, in 
 which she associated with such persons as were of 
 learning and science, she conducted herself with that 
 degree of propriety and judgment, that she justly 
 deserved the applause she gained by it; thus affording 
 another proof of her powers and versatility, by shew- 
 ing that she could be great when with the great, and 
 little when with the little. 
 
 3 £
 
 BOOK 11. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 %1 wonderful Discovery, tchich dues not much forward 
 the Progress of the Story. 
 
 The courteous reader may easily conceive the 
 painful state of my mind, when I inform him that I 
 have heard various mortifying opinions given upon 
 the former part of this simple narrative, by different 
 individuals who have perused it.* Some have called 
 it a romantic fable, declared it was impossible to be a 
 truth, or even on truth : and of so wild and incoherent 
 a kind, that they could not conceive what it was about ; 
 and have finished by determining, that it was not a 
 real and pure statement of any case whatever. Thus 
 it appears that I have lost my labour with those read- 
 »;r9, having done no good or service to my forlorn friend. 
 
 On the other hand, those of a higher degree of 
 sagacity, who conceive they can see deeper into a 
 millstone than their neighbours, affect to discover a 
 subtle meaning in this my pitiable relation ; they grant 
 it is a fable, but make out lie full interpretation of it 
 in their own minds, as clear as the sun at noon-day 
 is to their siglit. ^' It alludes," say they, " to things 
 real, though mixed with things imaginary : and this 
 mode has been adopted by the w liter, in order to give 
 a more distinct idea of the subject in hand, as viewed 
 from a -iertaiu point." The Slighted Beauty, accord- 
 ins; to them, (for I am well aware of what they have 
 said,) is no more than a personification of the Art of 
 
 * It is to be observed, that tlie first part of this history was 
 published many months before the remainder, in the papere 
 called the Artist.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 55 
 
 Painting. Tiie father who adopted lier, uiust mean 
 the Popes or Bishops of Rome; by her old duenna^ 
 is signified the Romish religion; her conduct in Flan- 
 ders is supposed to be the type or emblem of the 
 prevalent characteristics of the Flemish schools of art : 
 and the same of Holland, France, Spain, England, 
 &c. &c. — Her two lovers mean Henry the Eighth and 
 Charles the First: and the banishment of herself and 
 her cousin -ger man alludes to the conduct of the Puri- 
 tans, when they discharged painting and music from 
 the service of the church :" and thus they go on, as if 
 they had it all their own way, without ever consultin:^ 
 the poor author, or thinking it in the least degree 
 necessary to have his consent; they have thus deter- 
 mined, and, as that excellent and sage proverb has it, 
 "Just as the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh." But 
 to do them full justice, it must be confessed, that they 
 are willing to do the author the same, and thus they 
 go about it: 
 
 " It is not intended," say they, " in this hasly 
 sketch, to throw any slight upon the multifarious prac- 
 tice of the graphic art in this country, but merely 
 some opinions are given, to serve as a vindication of 
 British talents against those foreigners and others, 
 who have endeavoured to prove that Englishmen do 
 not possess, equally with other nations, that native 
 genius requisite to qualify them for becoming illustri- 
 ous, in what, by the ladies and their maids, is termed 
 the polite arts; and that the author has, in his sim- 
 plicity, attempted to give, in this tale, his own notions 
 why the sublime in art does not thrive in the bosom 
 of this his own dear country :" and they very candidly 
 allow, that, if what the author has asserted cannot be 
 denied to be a true statement, (and which they very 
 kindly say it cannot,) why, then it proves, that the 
 cause is not the want of intellectual powers in our 
 countrymen, but the want of opportunity only to 
 display them/' 
 
 They still proceed — " Neither is it (say they) in- 
 tended in this little work, to deny that a most ample
 
 56 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 share of fame, patronage, and profit, (at least equal to 
 the just claims,) is bestowed on those departments of 
 art, whicli, in conformity to the disposition of the 
 natives, occupy its protessors in this country. But," 
 they say, '' there is another distinct province of art, 
 M-hich is totally unknown in this country, and, there 
 is also great reason to fear, will ever so remain. It is 
 that, in which were produced tlie Cartoons of Raphael, 
 and the Capella Sistina of Michael Angelo ; that, in 
 which Painting makes its claim to such high intellec- 
 tual pre-eminence," and they declare it to be that 
 description of art a/o)?e, which is here alluded to. As 
 the author, I cannot but in justice acknowledge, that 
 I have very great obligations to those good commen- 
 tators for so kindly informing me of what it was that I 
 was about, or meant to do in this my work. But I 
 beg permission to offer a few words in my own vindi- 
 cation ; I wish I had been capable of the fancy or 
 imagination which those critics insinuate ; then indeed 
 I might have embellished my little history with alle- 
 gory, and beguiled some idle readers, who, while 
 they sought after amusement only, might have been 
 cheated into knowledge, and so have made a moral 
 use of my tale ; for well I know, that to do good by 
 stealth has been the approved practice of all degrees 
 of philosophers, from those who conveyed it in a 
 parable, even to those who administer it in a gilded 
 pill. There is a strange perverseness in human nature, 
 an unaccountable unwillingness to receive good for 
 its own sake alone; it must be sweetened and adapted 
 to the palate by a flavour or dash of pleasure, and 
 thus, while the appetites are deluded and off their 
 guard, the benefit is done against the will ; and the 
 greater or less quantity of wholesome medicine which 
 is conveyed to the patient's relief, must wholly depend 
 on the address with which it is administered. The 
 power which is thus disguised, to insinuate itself with 
 full effect, may, (though in this respect only,) be 
 compared to tiie Trojan Horse; that whicli is con-
 
 * THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. gy 
 
 tained must be unknown to those who receive it, and 
 please in the means to become powerful in the end. 
 
 I shall say nothing more in my defence, only beg 
 leave to give a hint to those who raise such fabrics in 
 their imaginations ; to wit, that they may sometimes 
 perchance be mistaken ; and that fancy and facts do 
 not always coincide. I shall take the liberty to pro- 
 duce one instance (as it is a known truth) in order to 
 prove and explain what I now advance, and then 
 proceed to relate the remainder of my dry but faithful 
 story, whether it be received as truth or not. 
 
 Not long since, in a populous street of a populous 
 city, the passengers, as well as the neighbours, were 
 awfully alarmed by horrid shrieks of murder in one of 
 the houses. This soon collected a vast mob of all 
 sorts, who as soon became tumultuous; and, as they 
 could obtain no sort of information by repeated knock- 
 ing at the door, it was determined to break it open by 
 force, and enter the house to relieve this screaming 
 victim from the jaws of death. But some amongst the 
 crowd wished to oppose those violent measures, there- 
 fore a party of the guards was called in, to keep the 
 multitude at bay ; the peace-officers likewise were 
 sent for, with the justice at their head, who was 
 obliged to read the riot act, to keep order ; but as the 
 cries of distress still continued, it was determined at 
 last to force the door open, in a legal way. — In the 
 midst of this tumultuous clamour, the innocent family 
 returned to their besieged house, having been abroad 
 to spend a holy-day (it being Sunday.) When, after 
 great difficulty, and as great insults from the mob, 
 they obtained a hearing from the enraged populace, 
 they declared there could be no sufferer in the house, 
 as no one had been left in it; and that this cruel mur- 
 der, which had filled every head and heart with hor- 
 ror, was nothing more than the suggestion of the 
 imagination set at work by the simple screaming of 
 their parrot.
 
 58 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 ffow the Beauty re embarked for England, and how 
 she was used by the Custom-house Officers on her 
 landing: what they took her to be, and the embar- 
 rassment it occasioned her. How she was mistaken 
 for a Spy, and also for a Cook. 
 
 Our beautiful Inconstant, still panting after variety, 
 suddenly came to a resolution to try her fortune once 
 more in fair England, where she had long conceived 
 an ardent desire to pay a second visit, having of late 
 learned that the former faction of her enemies was 
 either destroyed, or, at least, pretty well kept under, 
 and sufficiently humbled, so that she might very safely 
 shew her face again in that kingdom. She according- 
 ly, procuring a passage, took a French leave, and 
 soon after safely arrived on the desired shore. Im- 
 mediately on her landing, she was surrounded by the 
 petty officers of the customs, who, not well knowing 
 what to make of her, concluded she must be a spy, 
 and therefore made seizure of all her baggage; but 
 fortunately for her, they overlooked a small chest 
 containing various articles of foreign taste, which she 
 had picked up in the different countries in which she 
 had resided. To this she immediately had recourse, 
 and began to rig herself out in all the little remains 
 of her property; and thus equipped, she made the 
 strangest figure the world ever beheld, being obliged 
 to wear the rags of every country in Europe. Thus, 
 she had a scarlet Ferraiuolo from Rome, a ruff and 
 scarf from Spain, a black silk skirt from Venice, a 
 thick woollen petticoat and a pair of skaiting shoes or 
 boots from Holland, and a spangled robe of gauze 
 from France, trimmed with a full sufficient quantity 
 of Flanders lace; and in consequence, she seemed, on 
 her first appearance, to be so strongly attached to the 
 various peculiarities and fashions of each country she
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 59 
 
 had visited, that it was impossible to determine from 
 which she came last; nor would any one of those 
 countries have been able honestly to claim her as their 
 own. Yet, to do her strict justice, I must remark, that 
 after all her various turns of fortune, and in the midst 
 of this medley of rigging, she most evidently retained 
 the highest idea of her original importance ai.d char- 
 acter, and spoke with pride and pleasure of that part 
 of her life, which she had passed in her native coun- 
 try ; condemned all others, Spain excepted, for false 
 taste and vulgar manners, and finished by saying, her 
 hopes now revived in breathing again in the land of 
 liberty, liberality, and refinement. Being, however, 
 rather reduced in her finances, she began to look about 
 her for some proper mode, by which to get a reputable 
 livelihood. 
 
 Endowed by nature with great abilities, (and those 
 well cultivated, by every possible advantage of educa- 
 tion, to fit her for employments which required the 
 highest taste,) and having been particularly successful 
 and admired by all the world, while in the court of 
 her father, for her exquisite judgment in enriching, as 
 well as adorning, so many magnificent churches, 
 chapels, and halls, during all which time practice had 
 added to the improvement of her talents ; she therefore 
 congratulated herself on her powers, and immediately 
 fixed on the highest department of her skill, as the 
 proper object of her future attention, and best befitting 
 her rank and lofty genius. She now encouraged her- 
 self in the most sanguine hopes; in so much, that not 
 a doubt remained in her mincl, but that iier fortune was 
 made ; especially when she saw tlie forlorn and un- 
 furnished condition, as it appeared to her, of those 
 numerous public buildings of the kingdom. Fired 
 with all that enthusiasm which ever attends on genius, 
 in the joy of her heart she exclaimed, *' Now it is, 
 that I shall again be seen in my original splendour, 
 and shine the brighter by my late eclipse. Behold the 
 land abounding with riches and public benevolence ! a 
 country whose annals teem with records of heroism
 
 60 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 and of virtue ! Here indeed I shall find room for the 
 exertions of genius! here give unbounded scope to 
 fancy, and display before a wondering world such 
 rare examples of novelty and of excellence, as shall 
 surpass, perhaps, all that I have already achieved ! 
 nothing can bar my way or intercept my course; — 
 and I am the more assured of tliis, when I reflect 
 upon the many wealthy, splendid, and liberal conqm- 
 iiieSj which compose the mighty mass of this immense 
 metropolis; all of whom have superb halls, in which 
 to hold their councils, — and those remaining un- 
 adorned — surely, it would seem, on my account, and 
 only so left, because I did not return sooner to the 
 kingdom." 
 
 Thus full of herself, she indulged in fantastic rev- 
 eries ; she fancied the joyful reception she should 
 meet with, on the discovery of her person to those who 
 Lad been so long in the expectation of her coming : 
 and even enjoyed the idea of playing off a kind of 
 teasing plesanlly upon them, before she discovered to 
 those friends, who and what she was. 
 
 Her temperature was a kind too energetic to suffer 
 her to remain long idle. She, therefore, immediately 
 began to put her plan in execution ; and, to increase 
 the pleasure, was determined to apply, herself in per- 
 son, to those in power, and surprize her future patrons 
 at once with her presence. Thus resolved, she sallied 
 forth, full fraught with her own consequence, and, 
 with courage and unshaken perseverance, as if Apollo 
 had gallantly led her by the hand, she went from 
 liouse to house, and from hall to hall, but soon found 
 the difficulty of obtaining admittance to any of the 
 principal persons of those corporations ; and w hen, at 
 last, she had the good fortune to gain a parley, she 
 found it still more difficult to make them comprehend 
 what it was she wanted of them. This she at first at- 
 tributed to her not being able to speak very distinct 
 English ; but some of the society, who thought they 
 understood her better than their neighbours, answer- 
 ing for them, told her that they had no employment
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 61 
 
 for her in the line she professed, for that all their ban- 
 ners and ornaments were generally painted by one of 
 their own society, and it could not be expected that 
 they should take the profits and advantages from him, 
 to give it to a stranger, who had not even the freedom 
 of the guild. 
 
 To several others of those fraternities she was still 
 more incomprehensible, and much less able to make 
 her case clear. They distinctly heard her use the 
 words decorating and dressing out their lialls with 
 taste ; but taste with them had another signification, 
 and decorating and dressing were by them mistaken 
 for decorating tlieir table and dressing public dinners ; 
 and therefore they answered her, that they did not 
 dress their dinners in their halls, that tliey had a 
 spacious and well furnished kitchen for that purpose 
 alone, and then demanded of her if she was a pro- 
 fessed cook, and in want of a situation. 
 
 To be thus defeated in her first essay, not a little 
 discomposed her, and her spirits sunk on finding that 
 nothing was to be done in this channel. 
 
 Those opulent traders, whose bounties are ever 
 ready in all cases and on all occasions which you can 
 once get them to comprehend, soon perceived her state 
 of chagrin and disappointment with a sense of pity, 
 and were willing to relieve her wants, had they but 
 known how ; one way indeed occurred — by them con- 
 sidered as a sovereign remedy in such dilemmas — to 
 which they accordingly had recourse, and, to stay her 
 stomach, immediately presented her with a large 
 bason of the richest turtle soup, which, in point of 
 exquisite taste in its way, would not yield the palm 
 to any production of taste in her own. The offer 
 therefore was irresistible, especially to a craving ap- 
 petite just arrived from France ; she mildly took it, 
 smiled on their simplicity, and eat it, although in the 
 only place which their politeness liad allotted her, to 
 wit, the porch or lobby, after which slie retired to the 
 contemplation of her present forlorn condition.
 
 03 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 '• All!*' said she with a deep sigh, ** here is no 
 hope thnt the great actions of piiilosophers or heroes 
 shall adorn their walls, who are much more edified by 
 viewing in portrait the honest representation of some 
 prudent successful trader, staring them in the face, to 
 prove how much may be gained by industry and 
 plodding, without the help of learning or of arts!'' 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Iloia the Beauty icas disappointed in all her views, 
 and how she had like to have been starved to death. 
 
 After the cutting repulse (just related) of our 
 Beauty's proffered services, she remained for some 
 time in that state of painful depression, which is so 
 well known to all those who suff'er from mortified self 
 opinion ; to which was added the immediate fear of 
 poverty and dependence. She now called to mind her 
 ancient and first friend the Church, and resuming her 
 courage, resolved to make application immediately to 
 that excellent source of patronage, learning, and 
 benignity : *' Here, at least," said she, " I shall have 
 to deal with persons of wisdom, science, and piety, 
 whose minds have been enlightened by education, and 
 whose habits are directed by virtue. Now I shall 
 have no difficulty in making myself understood ; those 
 learned men are sufficiently acquainted with the zeal 
 I have shewn in the service of morality, and will 
 quickly receive me as a bosom friend, as they will 
 readily perceive that they have an opportunity to en- 
 courage a branch of science and of art, which de- 
 mands, for the execution of its purposes with just 
 effect, the closest study, added to the highest intel- 
 lectual powers.'*' 
 
 On making the trial, however, she found, to her 
 exquisite mortification, that she was indeed but too 
 well understood ; for, she perceived, that although her 
 
 J
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY 63 
 
 former inveterate enemies were dispersed, yet tlie old 
 prejudices against her character and connections stiU 
 remained in all their original force. She was roughly 
 answered, that none of her raumery or trumppry was 
 wanted there ; that her pretensions had already heen 
 maturely considered ; and it was deemed highly 
 necessary to inform her that her demand was impious, 
 that her seducing character was clearly and thorough- 
 ly known, and her assurance amazing in applying to 
 that source, or expecting that any assistance would he 
 obtained from it to such heretical arts as hers. " Also, 
 she must surely very well remember, tliat she had 
 been already curst out of the pale of the church, and 
 no new reason had occurred to render it proper to 
 reverse the judgment, which had been so dispassion- 
 ately and so justly passed upon lier ; that it had cost 
 trouble enough to get rid of her, and especial care 
 would be taken in future effectually to prevent her 
 ever again getting any footing in their precincts ; for 
 that, when she was let into their sanctuary, she did 
 nothing but mischief, by daubing and scrawling on 
 the walls, and playing such antics as drew off the 
 attention of the congregation from the teacher, and his 
 pious office." 
 
 At hearing this she trembled exceedingly, and felt 
 instantly convinced that the deadly blow to all her 
 hopes of succour, respect, or even sufferance in this 
 country, had been struck at the time when she was 
 first attacked by that horde of inveterate enemies, who 
 with such accumulated and unnatural vengeance had 
 driven her from the realm; and tliat, notwithstanding 
 she might, at this more calm time, escape the rigour 
 of the law's power against her, yet (she plainly per- 
 ceived) she should still be looked upon as an alien, as 
 one who had been publicly cursed, and neither counte- 
 nanced by church nor state, denied all degrees in the 
 universities, and considered only as a base trapping 
 of detested popery, or at best but a gaudy decorator 
 of rooms for banquet or for revel.
 
 Q^ VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 Tlie curate, the clerk, the beadle, the tax-gatherer, 
 and the sexton were all present at this interview, and 
 inucli they enjoyed her state of mortification, each 
 wishing to put in a word on the occasion; when the 
 clerk seeing her treated with so little ceremony, and 
 perceiving she was about to withdraw, boldly ven- 
 tured to give his opinion, and plainly told her, '' That 
 she had much better take herself off while she was 
 well, and go practise her trickery in some other place, 
 for it would not do there, and she might depend upon 
 it, that every thing in his power would be done to 
 prevent the evil elfect of such imiiish fooleries." 
 
 Then the curate spoke, and gently addressing her, 
 said he shrewdly suspected that she still held corres- 
 pondence with her vile father, as she was pleased to 
 call him, and was still ready and willing to assist his 
 impostures. 
 
 In vain with plaintive accents she pleaded the inno- 
 cence both of herself and her father, in respect to any 
 evil intentions in what she had done, and asserted 
 that she never had conceived it possible that her work 
 could be viewed in so base a light ! " Surely," said 
 she, " in its very worst aspect, it can only be con- 
 sidered as matter of ornament, and that of the most 
 simple and innocent kind. But may it not," she con- 
 tinued, *• be also a silent help to piety and reflection, 
 a means of instruction to the unlearned part of the 
 world? for pictures, says Gregory the Great, are 
 the books of the ignorant, where they may learn 
 what they ought to practise. — Can it be wrong to pro- 
 duce, by objects of sight, those awful ideas, which are 
 allowed to be so eminently useful to society, when 
 produced by words? can it be wrong to employ means, 
 by which a more impressive image is given of what has 
 been read or said, than vulgar minds are able to con- 
 ceive from their own resources? — will it not eventually 
 tend to soften the hearts of the illiterate ?" 
 
 '^ The instructions which are given to the young, 
 should be pithy and short, as they will the sooner hear 
 them, and the better keep them; and the words of
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. (55 
 
 Seneca are, ^ that men ought to teach their children 
 the liberal sciences, if not because those sciences may 
 give any virtue, yet because their minds by them are 
 made apt to receive any virtue.' Such is tlie nature 
 of that instruction, which is derived from the works of 
 my art, that the idle and unlettered, by the repeated 
 view and contemplation of the characters and actions 
 which I shew them, beaming with di\ inity and with 
 morality, have their own minds sown, even before they 
 are aware, with the seeds of purity, compassion, and 
 of general benevolence, and virtue made familiar to 
 them; for ^ virtue is that alone which maketh men on 
 earth truly famous, in their graves glorious, and in 
 heaven immortal.' " 
 
 However, this fine speech not being very clearly 
 comprehended by her auditors, the clerk smartly told 
 her to hold her deluding tongue; tljat she was a very 
 wicked creature, and that her tricks and wiles were of 
 the most dangerous tendency. 
 
 The curate desired the clerk not to be so flippant of 
 speech, for he would take upon himsnlf to lecture her. 
 He then calmly told her, that she was a wretched, 
 beggarly, hanger on upon the public, a sort of ex- 
 crescence, and considered as a burthen by all who 
 knew her; a kind of tax on the rich, who had so 
 many better ways of bestowing their money than to 
 pamper her in pride; one whom they had not the heart 
 to starve, and yet begrudged the expense to maintain 
 — and the most costly of all toad-eaters; an enthusias- 
 tic visionary, who imagined herself, from conceit and 
 partiality, to be something more than mortal, and, like 
 the tomb of Mahomet, to be suspended between 
 heaven and earth, and would scarcely know to which 
 she belonged, if hunger did not teach her; adding^ 
 that she must be possessed of a most astonishing 
 share of arrogance, still to persist in her fulsome 
 notions of fancied importance, when she must so 
 clearly see her worthlessness demonstrated in this 
 single fact, that neither church nor state gave her 
 presumptuous claims the least countenance, but ap-
 
 m VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 peared to be clearly of opiDion, that the whole wliich 
 could be done, by the utmost exertions of her powers, 
 was not, on their part, worth the smallest attention. 
 They saw her in her true colours, as an useless in- 
 truder on society; even the very citizens beheld her 
 with indifference, if not with scorn: and, as the proverb 
 justly observes, '^ that which every body says must be 
 true,*' — that is past denying. 
 
 The clerk, interrupting the curate, observed with a 
 significant smile on his countenance, that a good 
 singer (the clerk was very fond of vocal music, and 
 was blessed with a tolerable tenor pipe of his own,) 
 or even a dancer, was worth a million of such vermin 
 as herself; which was evidently and repeatedly 
 proved before her face, and truly by the most unques- 
 tionable and weightiest test, to wit, the vast difference 
 in their rewards. 
 
 Then the beadle, winking one eye in drollery, arch- 
 ly said, that if there was no other way of silencing 
 her perpetual whining and moaning, as if she was a 
 person really injured, and had a cause of complaint, 
 they would soon quiet her by setting the law at her 
 heels, and shew her the way out of the kingdom again 
 as an alien, without any demonstrable way of liveli- 
 hood ; or else set her in the stocks, where she might 
 complain at her leisure with some cause ; but here the 
 curate told him he was quite vulgar, and also wrong, 
 — that she had not broken the law, and therefore 
 could not be so treated. 
 
 Then the tax-gatherer, who was the most intimate 
 chum of the sexton, and had often helped him to a job, 
 slily whispered him that she was a vile hypocrite, 
 and only pretended poverty to save herself from his 
 clutches, and that he should soon attack her for his 
 dues, besides letting the informer bring a handsome 
 surcharge on her; as he was very well assured that 
 she had a quantity of concealed jewels about her, 
 which she had hidden, on purpose to elude their 
 search.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 67 
 
 Lastly, the sexton spoke, ami finished the conver- 
 sation, by shrewdly observing, (making his bow,) 
 that he should be very happy to dig her grave, and 
 made no doubt but, when she had been starved to 
 death, she would be finally dismissed by her few 
 friends, with a most pompous and splendid funeral, 
 and therefore desired that he might engage his friend 
 the undertaker for her, as he was apt to believe she 
 was a much more profitable article to deal with in any 
 manner when dead than when alive. 
 
 To be again rejected, again despised, was too mucli 
 even for philosophy to bear. Almost overwhelmed 
 with grief, even to despair, she returned to her 
 habitation, where, mipitied and alone, she vented her 
 anguish in a flood of tears. This second banishment 
 struck her with the greater mortification, because her 
 last dependence had been on the church, which had 
 always given her protection, and had been her great- 
 est friend, except at that particular period when 
 bigoted, hypocritical, puritanical, enthusiastical ene- 
 mies of her, and of all true taste, had driven her from 
 the laud. She had reason to expect no other treatment 
 from barbarians — they had their own schemes to 
 promote; but when it came upon her from the mild, 
 the educated, and refined, it wounded her to the very 
 soul. The insults of the vulgar we can with ease pass 
 over, but contempt from the good, although from mis- 
 take, is truly terrible. " Surely," said she, " the 
 soul payeth dear for hire in the body, consideriug 
 what she there endureth!"
 
 68 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 An Account of the Beautifs two Sisters ; how one of 
 them was fortunate, courted, and indulged, till she 
 grew so bulky, that some thought she took up too 
 much Room when at Church ; and how the other 
 was half starved, and as lean as a Gridiron: serv- 
 ing to -prove that some Folks find it as much Trouble 
 to digest Meat, as others to get it. 
 
 As in a former part of my history I gave some ac- 
 count of a cousin-german of our heroine, I shall in this 
 take notice <)f certain others of her relatives, as not un- 
 important to my main purpose ; for there was a cir- 
 cumstance rather curious, which helped not a little to 
 aggravate the mortification attending our Beauty's de- 
 plorable state, and she could not but feel it witii great 
 pain, whenever she reflected upon it. This was the 
 instance of a favoured sister, who was also resident 
 in this country, and had met with unbounded success 
 in all her undertakings. As their pretentions were not 
 very dissimilar, she could not help wondering by what 
 means her sisler could have obtained so decided a 
 preference. The girl was certainly a comely, person- 
 sonable wench, but she had a heart of marble, and a 
 face of brass ; indeed, she was apparently composed of 
 very diflerent materials from her sister. This young 
 lady was just as remarkable for being the object of 
 singular indulgence, as our Beauty was of persecu- 
 tion, scorn, and neglect, and most particularly with 
 the very same hierarchy which had denounced our 
 heroine by a curse, and prohibited her entrance into 
 its sanctuaries. This brazen-faced sister, on the con- 
 trary, was a prodigious favourite, and had an uncon 
 trouled power, insomuch that, by her will and com- 
 mand, she would often stop up the finest window in 
 the cliurch from a mere whim. Sometimes she would 
 only modestly seat herself directly in the window, so
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTV. 69 
 
 as to obscure the light something less than stopping it 
 up entirely. Then she would make no scruple at any 
 time to sap the principal pillars of support, root up the 
 foundation, build up partition walls in the aisles from 
 the floor to the roof, bore great holes in the walls, or 
 open new windows in them to serve her purpose, cover 
 the pavement, and by that means prohibit the sexton 
 and clergy from their perquisites gained by burial 
 ground. Still all those whims were sulFered without a 
 murmur, and so very far was this partiality extended 
 to the pampered favourite, that her patrons, with the 
 utmost readiness, always made a handsome recom- 
 pense for all the damage she might at times occasion 
 in any of her ingenious fantasies, in some of which she 
 would stick herself up in the midst of a cathedral, 
 with her elbows held out, so that you could scarcely 
 pass by her, or, if you attempted it, she would break 
 your shins with her great feet; for of late she was 
 grown enormously bulky; and if you dared to com- 
 plain, she would quickly clear the way before her 
 with an iron bar. At other times, in order to shew 
 her iigure (which she thought was a good one) to 
 advantage, she would throw herself into such attitudes 
 as would shew her nakedness even to indecency, and 
 all this with a face of bronze that nothing would dis- 
 may; foreside or any side was the same to her. 
 
 In short, she had been so long in the habit of taking 
 liberties, and her protectors so long in the habit of 
 suffering them, that she seemed, both to them and to 
 herself, to be infallible, and was accordingly so 
 treated, just as if she had given them love-powder. 
 
 The surprizing difference in the treatment wliich 
 these two sisters met with, I never was able to ac- 
 count for, nor am I at present able to solve the pro- 
 blem. 
 
 I have already said, that whatever she did, the 
 church and the state were well pleased; she was also 
 as great a favourite with the cily, and, in short, for- 
 tune was ever in her favour. In the city, she would 
 sometimes exhibit herself in the streets or public 
 
 3 Cv
 
 70 VAUIETIES OX ART. 
 
 squares, and display her feats in liorsemansliip; but 
 in this attempt slie generally cut but an a^Ykard figure, 
 and rather failed in her cast of this character, as 
 frequently, on those £;ay occasions, she seemed to 
 )iave lost all sense of shame: for somelimes she would 
 jinpear rigged out in the habit of a Roman Emperor 
 of old, and sometimes she would exhibit herself pig- 
 tailed, wilh a cocked hat and a pair of jack boots, at 
 other times with a large old fashioned wig, which 
 reached down to her middle; yet her patrons were 
 still so delighted with all her pranks, that they not 
 only indulged, but rewarded her vagaries with enor- 
 mous grants of thirty thousand pounds at a time: for 
 she was prodigiously expensive, as nothing would 
 suit her purpose, unless it came from a foreign coun- 
 ti'y ; " far fetclied and dear bought/' must serve her 
 turn, so that no small allowance would suffice for her, 
 altiiougli one quarter of the sum would have enabled 
 lier sister to shine with the utmost splendour; for our 
 Beauty was modest, unobtrusive, and, though pleas- 
 ing in all her manners to every body, never ran into 
 any expense, but, on the contrary, she could give a 
 value to that which had none in itself before; and was 
 60 humble in her deportment, that wherever she came, 
 she made it a point to stick herself as close to the wall 
 as a limpet to a rock, for fear of offending, but some- 
 how she was always unfortunate, and all her care was 
 but labour lost. Although she felt much pleasure in 
 lier fat sister's prosperity, and would have been glad 
 of any opportunity to assist it, as she thought it a just 
 encouragement, yet she could not survey this lavish, 
 imbounded, and partial preference, but with desiring 
 eyes, as some half-starved cur, at humble distance, 
 glances a longing look at a well-fed spaniel, who is 
 feasting on the rich repast of a fine marrow-bone. One 
 thing, however, must be allowed in favour of this 
 sister, which was, that she always spoke well of the 
 dead, audit proved to be of infinite service to her. 
 Thus, for instance, she would get up in the midst of 
 tlie church; and, in her own way, make long harangues
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. ^1 
 
 ill various languages, filled with flaitery and falsR- 
 liood, praising the dead to gratify the living. It is 
 true, it all went for notliing, as nobody attended to 
 her, or believed one word of what she said, yet it got 
 her many friends among those wiio were convinced 
 of the necessity of such a helper. 
 
 There was also another sister, who was very in- 
 genious, but, as she was not able to serve either city, 
 church, nor state, by any of her performances, she 
 passed lier time in a most ragged condition. — I ap- 
 prehend she is now defunct, as I have heard nothing 
 from her for some time past. In truth, any account of 
 her is unnecessary to our present purpose, therefore 
 she is not worth our notice. However, as I have 
 mentioned her, I will take tlie liberty just to give a 
 few particular traits of this lady's character. In the 
 first place, she was a great talker, and delighted in 
 words, in so much, that one of her fancies was to set 
 them down in curious shapes and rows, and she 
 would tiien look at them with uncommon pleasure, 
 always concluding, that every one who saw them. 
 would be as much delighted with them as herself. 
 In this way she spent a great deal of her time, and 
 was so diverted with this play, that she conceis'eil, 
 even w'hen it produced ever so great nonsense, thai, 
 thus disguised, it would pass for sense; for like a 
 good confectioner, she well knew that even wecd'^ 
 will be eaten as a delicacy, when embalmed in sugar. 
 However I am to acknowledge, that when she was in 
 her truly highest flights, she was really sublime. She 
 most commonly assisted her fortunate sister in making 
 her solemn church orations. 
 
 She was the eldest, the proudest, and the poorest 
 of the three; — I say the poorest, because each of the 
 others had known some intervals of prosperity, and 
 eveu affluence: she never. Her whole life was spent 
 as a pauper. Yet she carried herself with an ah- of 
 the utmost dignity, even when she had neitiier stock- 
 ings nor shoes to her poor feet. The only favour 
 shewn to her in this country, that I ever heard of^
 
 73 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 was that she got a little matter by singing ^' God save 
 the King" on festivals, now and then a cup of sack 
 given to cherish her soul, and the promise of a hand- 
 some burial place at her demise. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 How the beauty bemoaned herself, and how she set her- 
 self up in a Chandler^s Shop to relieve her Wants, 
 also of her new Schemes which ended in Smoke. How 
 she tvas annoyed and harrassed by a Phantom sup- 
 posed to be her Grandmother's; and had it to combat 
 with as if she had been her murderer. 
 
 All hopes had now left our fair forlorn, and she 
 had reason most bitterly to lament her fallen state and 
 misapplied industry. After having spent her life in 
 the acquirement of the most accomplislied education, 
 assisted by natural endowments of the highest degree, 
 the power and value of all which had been so often 
 tried and proved in other countries, she at last per- 
 ceived all were iueifectual to procure her a bit of 
 bread. lu this pitiable condition she remained, not 
 knowing what course to pursue, till her pale and thin 
 cheeks would have met, had not her unused jaws 
 been placed between them : her now dim eyes, that 
 once so sparkled with vivid expression, were sunk in 
 their sockets almost to the back part of her head, and 
 lier emaciated, though once graceful, arms, hung at 
 her sides like two walking sticks ; in short, she seemed 
 hastening apace to her final dissolution. She had 
 been so stunned by disappointments which she little 
 expected, that the sudden shock had deprived her of 
 all power or strengtli to support herself, and she 
 would sit for hours like a statue of despair. Some- 
 times in soft accents, scarcely audible, she would say, 
 " Poor mistaken mortal that I am, why did I haste 
 to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 73> 
 
 bread of carefulness ? Why with unceasing industry 
 mis-spend my young unprofitable days? Why did 
 the rising sun so oft bear witness to my labours, or 
 the midnight lamp so oft protract their length ? And 
 why, deluding visionary, Fame, did I become tliy 
 votary? Was it to live in poverty and die in want? 
 Had those untired exertions of my youth and strength 
 been well directed to profit and to vvbolesome trade, I 
 had not now been left forlorn, I might liave seen thy 
 poor inveigled worshippers (thou syren Fame) bring 
 ojQferings and lay them at my feet/' 
 
 In this state of dejection and melancholy she could 
 not have held out long; but suddenly recollecting 
 herself, she perceived that something must be done to 
 save herself from perisliing, and tliat quickly too. 
 
 This thought awakened her from her dreadful 
 dream, she clearly felt that she was philosopher 
 enough to wish still to live, and therefore, set about 
 the means of life with much alacrity. But poor as she 
 was, tlie only thing she could resolve upon was to set 
 herself up in a little chandler's shop, and, as the goods 
 which she intended to deal in were not of a very 
 expensive kind, she was soon able to furnish out her 
 little warehouse. For the chief articles on which her 
 trade depended were chalk, charcoal, stained paper, 
 Indian ink, brick-dust, matches, farthing rush-lights, 
 sand, small beer, and gingerbread. She also dealt in 
 gilded gingerbread : indeed she used no gold on the 
 occasion, her price would not afford any thing more 
 costly than Dutch metal, which, although it pleased 
 children and ignorant customers, had a copperish taste 
 with it ; but she always declared that it would have 
 been much more gratifying to her to have put real 
 gold, if she could but have had a price accordingly.. 
 In this small way, she made shift, by great economy, 
 to pick up a livelihood, for as she dwelt in the neigh -^ 
 bourhood of Paternoster Row, all those that lived in 
 the Row became her principal customers, they made a 
 point of dealing with her, and she sold them neat 
 articles.
 
 74 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 Possessed of that native liumility which is the 
 characteristic mark of innate greatness of mind, she 
 submitted to her lot, making only this reflection: 
 " Useless toil ! I strove, to elevate and dignify my 
 mind by frequent contemjdation of those awful antique 
 remains, those illustrious proofs and records of my 
 high descent, only to qualify me to keep a chandler's 
 shop, to be the retailer of gingerbread !" 
 
 At leisure times, when not better employed, she 
 would put her hand to miniature painting, and place 
 some specimens in her shop window, propping them 
 up by cheese or caudles, and writing under them in 
 very legible characters, " Likenesses taken equal to 
 this at seven and sixpence each, frame included." 
 Indeed various Avere the ways, which necessity, the 
 mother of invention, forced her to try, to pick up a 
 precarious maintenance, " Surely,*' said she, ^^ if the 
 mind is truly noble, it shuns neither toil nor danger 
 when it finds itself assaulted by poverty, and true 
 virtue will labour like the sun to enlighten the world." 
 
 To further her laudable purposes, she now resolved 
 to give public lectures on morality, character, and 
 manners, which she was well qualified to do; and 
 those moral eflusions were interspersed with the finest 
 wit imaginable, which she concluded would render 
 them more palatable to the public vulgar. In these, 
 the rake, the harlot, the miser, and the spendthrift, 
 were pourtrayed in the most animated colours. But 
 she found to her sorrow, that all her eloquence was 
 addressed to deaf ears, nor did tiiis scheme succeed 
 while it continued in her hands, for her rooms were 
 very thinly attended, and, fearing she might get into 
 debt by it, s\\6 desisted. She had also been much 
 annoyed in the course of her scheme by a large butch- 
 er's mastifi*, named Carlo,* which was continually 
 barking and snarling at her, and sometimes even bit 
 her, and tore her clothes in a sad manner. 
 
 These lectures were afterwards published, and sold 
 
 * Churchill's Epistle to Hogarth.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 75 
 
 tvell, and were most deservedly admired,— but that 
 unfortunately happened when the property, or other 
 benefit, was no longer hers. 
 
 Another circumstance I shall relate, which not only 
 much mortified her, but likewise did her considerable 
 injury. There were certain deep connoisseurs in 
 Beauty and Taste, who had seen and admired her 
 excellent works, while she was in her first state at the 
 court of her father, but who never personally knew 
 lier. All those, on her appearance in this country, 
 protested against her as being an impostor. They 
 came and looked most sharply at her with spectacles 
 and glasses to help their sight, and then pronounced 
 her not the same person that she pretended, or if amj 
 relation, she must be the daughter or rather grand- 
 daughter of their former acquaintance, for they affected 
 to have had an intimate knowledge of the old lady, as 
 they called her, and were very indignant, whenever 
 our Beauty dared to mention herself as bearing the 
 smallest comparison with tlieir favourite^ who was 
 *' a fine stately figure, elegantly formed, of a most 
 beautiful complexion, graceful in all her actions, full 
 of interest in her countenance, with a pair of eyes that 
 were killing. But as for herself," they said, " merely 
 to conceive that there was any resemblance betweeii 
 two such opposite figures, appeared like absolute 
 insanity. She, who was a long shanked, raw boned, 
 ill proportioned, awkard, dirty coloured, squinting 
 creature!" — -In answer to which, she would readily 
 acknowledge that there was, in truth, a vast difference 
 in her present appearance, from that which she made 
 when in the court of her father, and under his protec- 
 tion ; that she was then easy in her mind, and a bless- 
 ing seemed to attend on all her ways, but that now 
 she was half starved, which was not her fault, and 
 that she should be much better looking, if she was in 
 better plight 5 but this answer only served to aggravate 
 their rage, and make them hate her more for her 
 abominable and disgusting self-conceit, as they termed 
 it.
 
 76 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 And so far did these enthusiastic devotees carry 
 their admiration of the supposed old gentlewoman, 
 her grand-mother, as to think (and they would main, 
 tain it too) that there was more of the true line of 
 beauty, and more shapeliness, to be seen in the old 
 woman's mere stockings than in our heroine's real 
 legs ; and nothing is more common, even now, than to 
 meet with fortunate persons who possess some trump- 
 ery relic, such as an old cast off pair of siioes, which 
 have been since worn by others, and perhaps have 
 been more than once heel-tapped and new soaled ; yet 
 this morsel they will shew with all the happy effront- 
 ery of ignorance, as the most accomplislied model pos- 
 sible of a perfect female foot, and keep it with the 
 greatest veneration in a magnificent cabinet, as a most 
 precious curiosity. It is enough for them that it once 
 was fine. I have known a thousand pounds in pure 
 sterling gold given for one of her old night-caps, in 
 which a thousand holes had been darned up ; and five 
 hundred pounds for an old wig, on the mere assurance 
 that it had been the very wig of tlicir old woman ; 
 nay, many of these virtuosi have been seized with 
 such a mania, that very large fortunes have been made 
 by dealers in those ragged remains, by mere imposi- 
 tions on the wealthy iguorant, selling them the old 
 clothes of otiiers, while boldly asserting that they had 
 been hers ; and to such a length has the practice been 
 carried, that it has occasioned frequent law-suits, 
 whenever by some chance the cheat has been dis- 
 covered; for as no palpable evidence of its value 
 could be found in the article itself, the proof of its 
 authenticity has wholly rested on the word and honor 
 of tlie seller, which commonly served as a sufficient 
 testimony with the small degree of knowledge in the 
 buyer. 
 
 Certain of those virtuosi, who had a more favour- 
 able opinion of her, would at times trust in her hands 
 some of those inestimable rags for her to repair and 
 put in order, as not unfrequently it was far from very 
 clear what had been their original form or use, and
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY 77 
 
 she, from the lack of better employ, would patiently 
 apply her time to furbish up the tattered rubbish, and 
 would most meekly turn, scour, and dye (to please 
 them) her own former cast-oif clothes, and by this 
 means make them look worth something ; and she has 
 afterwards seen them sold for fifty times their original 
 cost. 
 
 All this did most certainly much irritate the spirit 
 of our Beauty, and she cast about for the means of do- 
 ing herself some justice, yet knew not how : at last 
 she devised a mode, as I shall shew in the next Book. 
 
 3 H
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The great Advantages of Learning. 
 
 AVe now draw near the end of our Beauty's piteous 
 tale, as at this place we enter on its finishing book; 
 therefore the most fastidious reader need not be im- 
 patient. 
 
 That I have not rendered this narrative a source of 
 amusement to those who have condescended to notice 
 it, I sincerely regret; first on my own account, 
 secondly on my reader's, and lastly on the Beauty's : 
 but I am unlearned, and therefore circumscribed in 
 power; I am ignorant of all those means of insinuation 
 by which truth becomes irresistible, and even false- 
 hood may be adorned so as to have the semblance of 
 truth. Learning and I are strangers to each other: I 
 have not to complain that its painful, though useful, 
 tasks were ever ungraciously forced upon me on any 
 side. From this fiitality of my youth, my riper age 
 must sufler, and the early opportunities I have lost I 
 may regret, but am now unable to repair. In vain I 
 call to my remembrance the bright example which 
 •was once before my eyes, when I did not avail myself 
 of the proffered blessing ; but youth and ignorance at 
 the time rendered me insensible of the singular ad- 
 vantage in respect to learning then within my reach : 
 for I had a little crooked uncle, who was a very great 
 scholar: and the article on which he piqued himself 
 most was, his profound knowledge of the Greek. It 
 is a real fact, that the comfort which he derived from 
 it tended much to lengthen his life. He would strut 
 about the room on his two little legs, that looked like
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. ^9 
 
 drum-sticks with stockings on them, and, with an 
 Aristophanes in his hands, read aloud, so that you 
 might hear him all the house over. 
 
 He always signed liis name in Greek ; he had the 
 motto to his coat of arms in Greek; wliatever subject 
 you started to talk upon, he would quote some old 
 Grecian, and give the very text with all the import- 
 ance of an oracle; then, in humble compassion to his 
 auditors, would turn it into vulgar English for them, 
 though very often at the time, (from my ignorance of 
 its supreme excellence,) I have foolishly'' thought, that 
 had the same sentence been found first in plain En- 
 glish, nobody would have supposed it worth tiieii 
 while to have remembered it: such as " that one half 
 was more than the whole," and that " when the Gods 
 wanted to destroy a man, they first caused him to run 
 mad." I have often wished to ask him what the Gods 
 would do as the second operation on the ill-fated 
 object of their wrath? but I had so much respect for 
 him, that I feared to offend him. 
 
 It has been frequent matter of wonder to me, what 
 should have made him so very partial to those Greeks, 
 for he was very unlike any of their statues that I had 
 ever seen. What he most resembled of any of tiie 
 Grecian figures, that I can recollect, was one of those 
 in their alphabet. However, I was at last fully con- 
 vinced by him, that, of all human blessings or ac- 
 quirements, it must be acknowledged the first is un- 
 doubtedly that of understanding Greek : for as the 
 poet says of madness, so it may be said of Greek, 
 '*^ that there is a pleasure in knowing Greek, which 
 none but Grecians know." Advantages from all sides 
 attend it: it acts like an universal armour, and pro- 
 tects its possessor from the crush of every assailant. 
 A man may be whoremonger, a drunkard, a liar, and 
 a thief — he quickly obliterates all tUsgrace, by proving 
 that he understands Greek. 
 
 The deep read scholar, who can converse with 
 Homer and Euripides in tlie originals, becomes well 
 entitled to look down with contempt on those latter
 
 80 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 efforts of ingenuity, which fill the unlearned with 
 wonder and delight. He who has read the mighty 
 works of the ancients in their purity, must hehold, 
 with pity, the comparative puny attempts of Shaks- 
 peare or of Milton, as, in competition with the Belvi- 
 dere Apollo or Farnesian Hercules, will appear the 
 ill-formed figure of mortal man. 
 
 The first knowledge, therefore, I would give a 
 child, is that of Greek, an everlasting source of 
 pleasure, and a power which enahles him to stem all 
 storms. 
 
 The man proud of high l)irth, or conscious of supe- 
 rior genius, exulting in his riches, or vain of his 
 beauty, even the tyrant in the plenitude of his power, 
 has moments when those advantages cease to give hira 
 pleasure, and are not even in his thoughts : but the 
 Grecian's enjoyment is perpetual; there is no instant 
 of his life in which it is forgot ; sleeping or waking, in 
 sickness and in health, in riches or poverty, drunk or 
 sober, it is still his comfort, and is ever in his mind : 
 and certain it is, th.at real happiness is not to be found 
 under the sun but by those who understand Greek. 
 
 Surely this is the great arcanum, without which 
 true felicity is not to be possessed ; and he who finds 
 it, pants with uncontroulaljle impatience till he lets 
 you know the vastuess of his possession. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Beauty's Brother introduced to the Reader; also 
 her new Projects, such as the World could not 
 comprehend ; ichich made some Folks take her to 
 be mad, others, only to he a Fool. 
 
 In this narrative I have confined myself, for the 
 sake of brevity, as much as it was in ray power, to the 
 matters which immediately concerned our heroine 
 only, and have encumbered it as little as possible with
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 81 
 
 her relations ; but I now find the necessity of mention- 
 ing one very near of kin, who was bred up with her, 
 and had been a partaker of all the advantages she 
 had enjoyed in her own country. They loved each 
 other from infancy, and were examples of benevolence 
 and cordial affection, till of late years indeed they 
 had been separated; she had sunk in her circum- 
 stances, and her brother, for such he was, had been 
 busy and forgot her. He was a handsome, active, 
 well built fellow, had an excellent front and a good 
 foundation, besides innumerable firm pillars of sup- 
 port. From his early youth he had given his mind to 
 the study of the mathematics and geometry, and 
 stood well in the world by his ingenuity, being every 
 where wanted; and as his poor sister was now be- 
 come low and obscure, she never once came into his 
 mind. It was curious to observe, that, although he 
 had the command of a great many superb mansions, 
 yet he never had thought of offering to let his sister 
 into any one of them, even at the time she was with- 
 out house or home. He, most assuredly, had it often 
 in his power to have been of essential service to her, 
 but he left his fabrics generally in such a state, as to 
 make it impossible for her to get a comfortable footing 
 in them ; for truly he had more pleasure in seeing the 
 walls decorated by trumpery and trifles, just like a 
 Christmas pie, than by any of her tasty performances. 
 He, likewise, too much adopted the vulgar opinion, 
 that she was a dirty slut, and that she daubed the 
 walls and played the deuce in house or church, if she 
 once got possession of it. 
 
 To this brother, however, she had now recourse, 
 and he graciously deigned to recognize her, and 
 promised to assist her ; a magnificent idea had struck 
 her mind, as a means to propagate her art, and by 
 making it familiar to the multitude, increase its influ- 
 ence to the good of society. Accordingly she formed 
 a resolution to put her project in practice, whenever 
 she should be so lucky as to procure some small aid 
 to forward her scheme. This, fortunately for her, her
 
 gt VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 brother was able and willing to lend her, and she im- 
 mediately set about it. With some trouble she col- 
 lected together as many of iier works as she was able, 
 and by this means produced a very splended assem- 
 blage. 
 
 Here it was that her brother lent his assistance, 
 providing her with rooms for her purpose, gratis — to 
 be sure the apartments were not very commodious, 
 for the best of them was at the summit of eighty stairs, 
 all which you were obliged to clamber up, in order to 
 see this display which she publicly exhibited; and as 
 the price of admittance was but small, and the amuse- 
 ment to the eye was great, it was soon visited by every 
 rank of society, where curiosity and idleness had in- 
 fluence, and the profits were more considerable than 
 she had expected. Also to give an air of importance 
 to her sliow, and render it in some degree unlike a low 
 or vulgar thing, she had so contrived it, poor soul ! as 
 to get a couple of real centinels to be at the entrance, 
 with muskets on their shoulders, who marched to and 
 fro before the door-way, and I confess it had a very 
 grand eflfect. 
 
 But now comes the wonder of virtue, as seen in her 
 conduct, in which instance the truly noble and ele- 
 vated turn of her character is displayed most clearly, 
 and with a degree of patriotic benevolence, that has 
 no parallel, perhaps, in the world. 
 
 For she had resolved from the beginning of this 
 project, not to apply one farthing of what was to be 
 gained by it to her own private use, but, with the 
 larger portion of the accumulated profits, to found and 
 maintain a public free school, for the education of 
 youth in the knowledge of all matters of taste, with 
 the hope thereby to inspire a love of intellectual re- 
 finement in the nation, and also to give a splendour 
 to it in tiie eyes of other countries ; with the remain- 
 ing portion of profit to form a fund of charity, by 
 which she might afford relief and comfort to certain 
 poor wretches, who had dej)ended on her, but who, 
 from various misfortunes, were in a worse plight than
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. g^ 
 
 herself. But her weakness did not stop here ; for, like 
 a fabled heroine in romance, she panted for glory, 
 and has frequently been known to have actually given 
 medals of gold and silver, as a reward and encourage- 
 ment to youths of distinguished merit, and also sums 
 of money out of her fund of shillings, to send them for 
 improvement to her native country; when at the very 
 time she has wanted bread herself. For so inviolable 
 were her notions of honor, that nothing would tempt 
 her, in her greatest wants, to touch a farthing of thi-s 
 fund, which to her mind was become a sacred matter, 
 consecrated to the most benevolent purposes. 
 
 But this her munificence appeared so very romantic 
 in the world's eyes, that very few could comprehend 
 it; therefore, very naturally they accounted for her 
 seeming strange conduct, every one according to his 
 own notions : some did not believe it to be at her own 
 cost, but thought she was assisted by a higher power; 
 others concluded that her intellects were a little in 
 disorder ; while many contented themselves by more 
 mildly considering her only as a fool; but not one 
 attributed to her any virtue in her motives. 
 
 Surely it must be confessed, tliat if she was mad, 
 she shewed method in her madness, and appeared to 
 act even with some policy. Thus she contrived to 
 give annually out of her gains a public festival, to 
 which she took care to invite all those persons who, 
 from their rank in life, bore the highest sway, and all 
 those of intellect, who had the higiiest fame in the 
 kingdom; trusting to have kindled a ilame in them, 
 and to have gained their interest. They all came, 
 they all saw — were amused — some even admired — 
 but all were silent; not one shewed any inclination 
 towards being on terms of closer friendship with her, 
 or dared to touch her without having gloves on, for 
 fear of shaking hands wilh a lunatic. 
 
 I must here also observe that, in aid of her school, 
 it was her earnest desire to annex a little library to it, 
 to be composed of such books. &:c., as should be most 
 useful and necessary to advance the knowledge and
 
 8]. VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 studies of her scholars : and therefore from time to 
 time, as her little income would allow, she would 
 purchase some trifles, which, together with now and 
 then a donation of gratitude from her pupils, was all 
 she could procure, and a most scanty affair it was, for 
 no hand of power or of plenty would ever deign to 
 help her, or offer to furnish her empty shelves ; and 
 she had no other consolation, than that which is al- 
 ways the reward of the virtuous and independent — 
 the reflection that, if it was poor and scanty, it was 
 free from obligation, for it was all her own. However, 
 her shillings came in to help her out in her splendid 
 scheme, and the youths of her school increased in their 
 acquirements ; and, although her own interests made 
 no progress, yet her vanity was plumed in contem- 
 plating the supposed effects of the knowledge she had 
 diffused, and the benefits to society derived from that 
 school, of which she was the sole support; congratu- 
 lating herself on having done that, unassisted and 
 alone, which in all other polished countries might 
 have called forth the fostering hand of governments. 
 
 One priviledge also the world allowed to her with- 
 out a question, to wit ; none could dare presume to be 
 considered or received as persons of taste and critics, 
 if she had not first invited them to her festival; and it 
 was therefore solely on that account as much sought 
 after, as if it had been a court honor, or, as if by it 
 such persons had been dubbed connoisseurs, and ac- 
 quired a title, which it lay exclusively in her power to 
 confer. 
 
 A mischievous intimate of hers, who envied the 
 great pleasure, which she seemed to enjoy from this 
 new scheme, and desirous to mortify her pride and 
 vanity, thus addressed her; " My dear inconsiderate 
 friend, what has been your chief motive to found this 
 school, of which you are so fond? Is it that you are 
 not content to starve alone, but wish to become a 
 stalking-horse, a decoy-duck to entrap others in the 
 snare? like malignant nuns, who were ever striving to 
 get companions in their misery. You but too well
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 85 
 
 know that the fate of your scholars is similar to the 
 state of those poor mortals who go to law; where the 
 happy favourite of fortune, wiien he wins his cause, 
 is left in rags, and where he that fails is naked. You 
 are like the Cuckoo, who produces her l)roo(l, and 
 then can neither feed them, protect tiiem, nor force any 
 one to admire their song. — Excuse me, but such I 
 think to be precisely your case. 
 
 *^ It cannot fail to move a feeling heart with pity, to 
 contemplate the probable fate of those numerous can- 
 didates for fame whom you create, for you prove in 
 your own sad example, that great acquirement does 
 not create or insure great employment. After your 
 scholars have, by indefatigable industry, gained every 
 possible improvement which education can bestow, 
 and amply qualified themselves for the execution of 
 works of the highest order, pray inform me, if you 
 can, who is it that will call at their warehouse to 
 purchase their sublimity, or where in tlie name of 
 wonder, can it be placed, when it is accomplished? 
 
 " It brings to my recollection an anecdote told of a 
 poet, who, being advised by a minister of state to 
 learn the Spanish language, had raised his expecta- 
 tions with golden dreams, (as many of your scholars 
 may no doubt,) to the highest pitch which fancy could 
 create, of what might be the happy result of this ac- 
 quisition; and he therelbre immediately set about the 
 task witii a tumult of delight, and accordingly by time 
 and attention made himself master of the laborious 
 undertaking; when, going again to his seeming patron, 
 filled withjo}"^ at the hope of reward, he informed the 
 minister, that he was now become a master of tiie 
 Spanish tongue — ' Well done!' said the great man 
 ' then you have now the felicity of being enabled to 
 read Don Quixotte in the original.' 
 
 •^^ In short, it seems to me that you are beginning 
 at the wrong end; all your schemes might do very 
 well in kingdoms, where the high art is known and 
 cherished; but situated as you now are, your conduct 
 
 3 I
 
 m VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 is as absurd, as if a niercliant, on a speculation of gain, 
 was to attempt to introduce a manufactory for parasols 
 in Lapland or in Nova Zerabla." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Hnic the Beauty became Jcnewn to a good Maiiy and 
 how much Good he did for her. How she lost hinif 
 and had a Patron in his stead. 
 
 About this time a moment of good fortune attended 
 our lieroinc, by what means I know not, or by what 
 lucky chance a thing so strange to her could happen, 
 but she was introduced to a man eminent for his well 
 known benevolence of character ; one of the elders of 
 the city. He was a man of great discernment, liberali- 
 ty of mind, and fine taste, and who, from the first hour 
 he saw her, admired the many excellencies which she 
 possessed. Although so much obscured by her pover- 
 ty, depression, and ill health, yet he was soon able to 
 estimate the value of all those perfections, for which 
 she had been so much distinguished, when in her 
 native country. He never failed to pay her unceasing 
 attention, and she, in return, had a greater veneration, 
 esteem, and true love for him, than for any one person 
 she had ever met witli, from the time she first quitted 
 her father's dominions. It was his chance to become a 
 chief magistrate, when he endeavoured, by every 
 effort in his power, to introduce her to the highest 
 personages in his district. But in this attempt he 
 failed. Those good people, whose minds and habits 
 were formed by traffic and industry, were not prepared 
 to relish the refinements which are the produce of 
 genius and of taste; and she was not cordially re- 
 ceived in that quarter, nor ever able to inspire the 
 inhabitants with the least perception of her eminent 
 perfections of grace, beauty, or virtue, although at the 
 same time they paid great attention to her fat sister.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 8;^ 
 
 However, her friend still persisted in his attachment, 
 and often invited her to his dinners and his halls, and 
 paid her such court, that it quite revived her almost 
 broken spirits. She now began to look cheerlul, and 
 really was inclined to think, that her former days of 
 happiness were returning, and she daily blessed his 
 name. He, on his part, erected a magnificent temple, 
 which he dedicated to her, and to the most illustrious 
 poet of this country, and thus united their names to- 
 gether with his own. 
 
 For a short period during the life of this good man, 
 she became an object of attention and of some degree 
 of consideration, for at last he prevailed on others to 
 admire her nearly as much as he did himself. 
 
 But alas! as all things under the sun must have an 
 end, so likewise ceased this trausitor^'^ ray of light. 
 He died — the temple raised to her and the greatest 
 poet, became a ruin ! Its relics were scattered, and 
 she was again forgot. Even the very place, where 
 once this temple stood, could scarcely be known. 
 But still, as if unable to quit the revered spot, once,jso 
 precious to her, our heroine would sit a mournful 
 spectacle amidst the desolation, like fallen Marius ou 
 the ruins of Carthage. Her good genius seemed yet 
 to hover over the place, and animate its very dust; for 
 it appeared to make a dying eifort to revive, as if loth 
 to lose its former elevated office, and at last she had 
 the heart-felt joy to see a little kind of vapour arise 
 and fix itself upon the very spot; for not long after the 
 death of her patron, the fabric was by some benevolent 
 persons appropriated to a kind of free-school and 
 sale-room for the use and encouragement of juvenile 
 attempts, which both gratified and flattered her, tlie 
 more as it was a kind of appendage to the school of 
 her own foundation. 
 
 She flattered herself that she saw a gleam of good 
 in the project, and this thought she fondly encouraged, 
 as some forlorn maiden, whose lover has forsaken her, 
 muses over her empty tea cup, and shakes the grounds 
 remaining at the bottom : and fain would, if possible,
 
 88 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 discover some good, some blessed chance in the stoves 
 of fortune vet to come for her. 
 
 I have often lieard her express her candid opinion 
 upon the subject, as 1 knew it was her desire ever to 
 assist even the weakest efforts. " This laudable little 
 scheme," she would say, •'' although as yet but in a 
 small way, maybe productive of something better; 
 that which begins in being addressed to children, may 
 end in becoming an object to men: the end desired by 
 it is truly praiseworthy, although the means be feeble. 
 There is, however, one part which, I must confess, 
 gives me some pain — I am sorry that we cannot conceal 
 this project from the scornful eyes of supercilious 
 nations, who affect, with haughty arrogance, to de- 
 spise the country of Boutiquiers. 
 
 " All those, instead of casting a look of kindness 
 tow^ards our virtuous struggles to raise the art, instead 
 of viewing our innocent modes and contrivances to 
 produce a traffic in it, with that feeling of compassion 
 which would be the greatest ornament of their hearts, 
 w'ill only triumph over the puny attempts; and will 
 be too apt to disregard the native beauty of the help- 
 less infant, while they are absorbed in contemplating 
 the poverty of its nurse. But let us take courage and 
 rely on hope : although it may excite the insipid jests 
 of foreigners, when they behold our little shop of 
 cheap articles in national art, still let no one be dis- 
 mayed; for it is ever to be remembered that the first 
 great maxim of virtue is to bid defiance to the laugh of 
 fools, and it has been proved by experience that the 
 most consequential establishments have gradually 
 risen from the humblest, and lowest origin. We 
 should consider also, that we are in a trading country, 
 and therefore it is impossible to devise a better mode 
 to suit the habits of the natives, in order to answer the 
 end proposed. We must be content ^ to creep before 
 we can go:' it is the lot of human nature; and as it 
 has been to trade alone that I am indebted for my 
 existence in this land, therefore to trade alone I now 
 pay my homage.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 89 
 
 ^^ The project," she continued, " is excellent: it 
 increases the means of discovering all those children 
 who have a genius for the art; by alluring youths into 
 the practice of it, you gain a fair opportunity of dis- 
 cerning their different degrees of talent ; as numbers 
 will rush to enter under the standard of fame, some 
 from ambition, and many more from idleness; thus 
 you will be enabled to separate and select the best 
 from among the multitude, and the rest may serve to 
 recruit the army, become soldiers, and seek glory 
 under another banner/' Then with a modest smile 
 by way of an apology for what she was about to add, 
 " To illustrate,'' said she, " my apprehension of this 
 subject, I shall take the liberty to make a vulgar 
 simile, being the first that offers. It is like the con- 
 duct of a good cook, or caterer in another department 
 of taste, who, when she wants to furnish a dish of 
 delicious green peas, first procures a great quantity of 
 pods, out of which she culls those only which are 
 most delicate and fit for her purpose, and the large 
 remainder may be disposed of, no matter how i"*' — 
 *^ given ," I added, " as food for hogs, made into 
 soup- meagre, or left to be carried off in a beggar's 
 wallet." 
 
 Our Beauty, as I before observed, having now lost 
 her late great friend and benefactor, and seeing no help 
 within her reach, sunk again into despondency, reflect- 
 ing with sorrow, that all her days of joy were buried 
 in his grave, and gone forever. In melancholy musing 
 she cherished his memory, and kept alive the grateful 
 sense of his friendship, never mentioning his name 
 without tears: often saying, that he had done her 
 more real service than the wliole kingdom besides put 
 together; that he was the just medium of prudence 
 united with benevolence ; that he only seemed to pre- 
 serve himself in order to prolong a general blessing to 
 society ; that he had assisted her even to his own hurt ; 
 and always calling him her true and her only 
 Maecenas. Here, even Hope, the God of the wretch- 
 ed, forsook her: in her retired garret, (which, though
 
 90 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 she at all times preferred a sky-light, was now but a 
 wretched habitation,) she moaned away her fading 
 beauties. 
 
 As she was one morning ruminating on lier deserted 
 state, she heard a tapping at her ciiamber door, and, 
 on opening it, there came in a polite and travelled 
 gentleman, who, after paying his compliments to her, 
 told her that he had heard of her fame and of her 
 wants. — That it had ever been his wish to be the 
 patron of elegant studies and neglected merit. — That 
 he had been informed of the depressed state in which 
 she had been left to pine in secret, but that she should 
 have no cause again to complain, for he was deter- 
 mined to give her an opportunity of exertion, by 
 which the world should be convinced of her worth, 
 and acknowledge her rights; " and I," said he, 
 " shall have the credit, as my reward, of having been 
 your first patron in this region, and the first means of 
 giving you to the country. Another great advantage 
 you will have; I shall also help you much in the 
 course of the work by ray advice occasionally, in 
 matters in which you may be incompetent; as I con- 
 clude you must allow that an amateur is more capable 
 to give directions, from his liberal education, general 
 knowledge, and freedom from those particular pre- 
 judices, which are so apt to govern the fettered mind 
 of the mere professor, who chiefly attends to the ex- 
 ecution of the hand alone. — For I must inform you, 
 that I have made the complete tour of the continent, 
 have crossed the Alps of Italy and Switzerland, seen 
 all the varieties of landscape scenery, and most ac- 
 curately ascertained by measurement the just propor- 
 tions of all the famous antique statues. I have viewed 
 with optic glasses the minutest touch of every cele- 
 brated picture, and have acquainted myself with all 
 the preparations on which they were worked, and the 
 process in working. I have investigated the various 
 merits of the different schools, have been absorbed in 
 the sublimity of Michael Angelo, have admired the 
 grace of Correggio, been captivated with the sweet-.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. gi 
 
 ness and air of Guido, the firm line of Caracci, the 
 force of character and expression in JRaffaelle, — and 
 have analysed the colouring of Titian and the Vene- 
 tian school : so that you see 1 am not a bad helper for 
 you. You must do a great work for me ; I am im- 
 patient till we begin, tiiat I may quickly shew the 
 world a production that shall astonish ; for by our 
 combined force, we shall, no doubt, produce a per- 
 fect work. — The subject which I have selected, is 
 from those fine lines of our poet Milton — 
 
 — " Riding on the air she comes, 
 Lur'd with the smell of infant blood, to dance 
 With Lapland witches, while the lab'rinj; moon 
 Eclipses at their charms.'' 
 
 This harangue of connoisscurship being ended, our 
 Beauty soon set to work, and her kind patron was 
 ever at her elbow — inded whatever she did on it when 
 he was not present, was but lost labour, and she was 
 obliged to put it out again when he came, as it was 
 all wrong. 
 
 In the commencement of the business, she had 
 taken the liberty to object to certain parts of the sub- 
 ject given, as not adapted to her powers of representa- 
 tion, and therefore in these points unfit for her pur- 
 pose, although infinitely to be admired in the poet: 
 such, for instance, as its being impossible by any 
 means in her power to specify that this demon 
 smelt infant blood, or that tlie moon laboured while 
 the witches danced, (both of whicli were exquisite 
 thoughts in the poet ;) but to those objections he 
 would not listen, but told her, " that, by following 
 his directions, she would give such an expression to 
 the figure, that all should soon perceive it was infant 
 blood which was smelt; and as to the moon, I shall 
 shew you," said he, " how to make her labour, I 
 warrant you." 
 
 Thus then to work they went ; he delighted to have 
 the effusions of his own mind displayed, and she, from
 
 93 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 necessity, humbly submitting to every direction, till at 
 last the work was completed, and they both sat down 
 before it, and surveyed it with very different sensa- 
 tions. He saw with rapture a thing so consistent with 
 his ideas ; she saw it with disgust and dismay, as be- 
 ing so unlike to her own. 
 
 '• Now,'' said he, " we shall astound the world, 
 and I shall have the happiness and the glory of 
 making your fortune at once :" she forced a smile from 
 civility, but thought herself too deeply concerned in 
 the event to smile from pleasure, for the thing looked 
 to her like the jacket of harlequin. — As this erudite 
 article was to produce a great effect at once on the 
 pul>lic, it had been carefully concealed in its progress 
 from all but themselves, when at last, after the patron 
 had sufficiently glutted himself on the curious pro- 
 duction, it was put forth for all beholders. 
 
 First came the patron and all his dependants ; those 
 all agreed in admiring it. Then the circle was in- 
 creased, and those who were indifferent to both pat- 
 ron and performer, came and found fault: then came 
 judges, some of whom despised it, and others laughed ; 
 when presently tlie matter was treated with scorn and 
 contempt, universally condemned as not worth one 
 farthing, or fit to be seen in any place. — The patron 
 now took the alarm ; he declared that he only cm- 
 ployed our unfortunate as an act of charity; that he 
 always thought her a very dull creature, without the 
 least genius, and soon afterwards denied that he had 
 ever beheld her, nor would he ever speak to her when 
 by accident he saw her in public, and from that time 
 paid all his attention to those works which he be- 
 lieved had been the labours of her grandmother. — 
 Thus she unfortunately lost at once both patron and 
 credit. — We see proved in this experiment that the 
 highest powers when under the guidance of ignorance, 
 become ridiculous, as under that of vice they would 
 become detestable.
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 How the Beauty goes in search of fresh Patronage 
 and gains only fresh Mortification. 
 
 There still remained a source of most eminent 
 protection, yet unsolicited, for our unfortunate Beauty, 
 the whicii, if once gained, would be as perpetual as it 
 was powerful : but this sun of patronage she knew 
 not how to invoke nor even to approach, as the diffi- 
 culties of access to it were innumerable : her jolly sister 
 indeed (as I have often shown) had been introduced, 
 and had felt the benefit of its influence; but our Beau- 
 ty's calamities had rendered her timorous, and she 
 scarcely dared to hope that she sliould ever be favour- 
 ed with its vivifying warmth ; though, could she lucki- 
 ly have so placed herself as to have once caught even 
 the smallest beam of its radiance^ it would fully have 
 satisfied the utmost wishes of her heart. 
 
 This vast and dignified source of earthl}'^ good, 
 which she had in mind, was no less than the supreme 
 power of the state, and she had thought of an appli- 
 cation to the prime organ of its administration, as the 
 means most proper to eflFect her purpose : yet, when, 
 she reflected on the high authority which she was 
 about to address, she trembled at her own prcsump- 
 tion, and her heart failed her, as well it might, con- 
 sidering the insignificant figure she must make in the 
 presence of the great, thus unconnected and unsup- 
 ported. Sometime she parleyed with herself of what 
 was best to be done : when, recollecting (and without 
 much knowledge of the world either) that if she did 
 not endeavour to help herself, nobody was very like- 
 ly to ofl\jr their services to help her, and that it was a 
 duty incumbent upon her, to leave no proper attempt 
 unassayed, however improbable the chance of success, 
 she therefore determined to make this last trial towards 
 an establishment for herself in this country.
 
 91. VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 The way had been made a little more easy to her 
 by a friend, who liad intimated to the Premier, that a 
 person would request the favour of an audience of him, 
 w ho liad some pretensions to be heard. 
 
 With throbbing heart, she ventured forth on this 
 forlorn hope, and soon arrived at tlie palace of the 
 prime dispenser of favours, where, after remaining in 
 an antichamber a time fully sufficient to recollect her- 
 self of all her claims to the attention of a State, she 
 was at last admitted to the presence of the prime min- 
 ister of its good, and was received with all that court- 
 ly aiFability which marks tiie manners of the great : 
 after which, little time was spent before the cotivcrsa- 
 tion turned on business. 
 
 ** Pray, Madam, to what lucky circumstance is it 
 owing, that I have the pleasure of this visit from you, 
 a perfect stranger to me ?" 
 
 " I came, Sir, to implore the assistance of the State 
 in my behalf.'' 
 
 *' A bad beginning, Madam ; assistance is just 
 what we want ourselves, not to bestow it on others. 
 But on what grounds do you found your claims to our 
 attention ? have you any important disclosures to 
 make, from which the State may reap advantage ?" 
 
 ^* My own opinion is, that society would reap much 
 advantage from my services.'" 
 
 " By whom are you recommended ? are you pow- 
 erfully supported ?" 
 
 " I have no supporters. Sir." 
 
 *^ What does nobody espouse your cause, or enforce 
 your demands ?" 
 
 " No mortal !" 
 
 '^ Are you an orator then ? have you the powers of 
 eloquence and persuasion ?" 
 
 " In my own way, I think I have, and that in glow- 
 ing colours.'*' 
 
 " In glowing colours, did you say ? can you make 
 black appear white? 
 
 " No ! that is beyond my powers."
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 95 
 
 ^^ What are your powers? have you acquired learn- 
 ing, or have you the art of a logician? can you, with 
 ingenious arguments, vindicate those disastrous ac- 
 cidents, which, hut too often, intercept the course of 
 the wisest conduct ; or can you stop the watcliful en- 
 emies of our proceedings, by your sophistry ? If so, 1 
 can listen to your suit. Even without those high claims 
 to attention, if you had been favoured by the protec- 
 tion of some powerful individual, had your cause been 
 backed by a party, or came you recommended to our 
 notice by a county, or had gained tlie patronage of a 
 borough, even the most pitiful one in the king(h)m, it 
 would have given both force and dignity to your pe- 
 tition ; but as it stands at present, I know neitlier you, 
 nor from whence you came, and your application for 
 favour appears absurd, if you cannot do us some ser- 
 vice. What do you profess ?" 
 
 " To study nature, cultivate taste : to investigate 
 and represent to others the graces of tlie mind as well 
 as those of the body, and to teach, or rather inculcate, 
 morality.'' 
 
 "Alas! I admire your simplicity; but must ob- 
 serve to you, that whatever other endowments you 
 may possess, you seem not to be much the politician. 
 Pray, I ask you, what are those magic charms of the 
 taste and graces ? What have taste and the graces 
 done for government, or for its ministers, to cause me 
 to become their advocate ? can taste and the graces 
 make soldiers, and recruit the army for foreign ser- 
 vice ? can they procure a majority for me in the 
 House ? can they enable me to reward, with bounte- 
 ous gratitude, my host of faithful friends ; or guard 
 me safely in the hour of danger, from the assaults of 
 my enemies ?" 
 
 " It appears singular that you should apply here 
 for aid. The chief objects of your study we have 
 nothing to do with, neither is there any office under 
 the state to recognize them ; if any where, they seem 
 to belong to the church — you should make your ap- 
 plication there.-'
 
 96 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 ^^ That, Sir, I have done, and was repulsed with 
 scorn, as an idler, if not considered as mischievous.'' 
 
 *' I must conclude you received a proper answer: 
 apply, then, to the monied interest; there you cannot 
 fail of being supported, if your projects are prolitahle." 
 
 " TJiis 1 have done also, with as little success ^ 
 perhaps because I could not explain myself so as to 
 be understoo<l : I was to them an unheard-of and in- 
 comprehensible stranger." 
 
 ^' If, then, you have been scorned and rejected by 
 those to whose power and importance we are so large- 
 ly indebted for our own, it is mere folly to come to me 
 with your complaint, and I confess you disappoint me. 
 I had been informed that you had resided in other 
 kingdoms, and therefore conceived some opinion of 
 your abilities. 1 expected you could have given in- 
 formation concerning those countries you had visited; 
 of their general condition ; also as to the force or 
 ■weakness of our enemies; or otherwise, that your 
 genius hacLdirected your studies towards those things 
 which might have rendered you useful to the ordnance 
 department ; or that you possessed that kind of 
 knowledge which would have helped the financier: 
 but it seems, all that you can teach belongs to the 
 schools only, men of the world have otlier knowledge 
 to employ their thoughts. Is it possible you can be 
 in that state of ignorance, to imagine that, at the time 
 our attention is so awfully employed in procuring, 
 with ditliculty, the various means to defend ourselves 
 and the nation from foreign and domestic foes, and 
 contriving to raise revenues that must be grasped, and 
 fri( nds that must be bought, to support our power, 
 can you, I say, suppose, that we are in a state of that 
 calm leisure to survey, from an easy chair, the gentle 
 progress of Taste and the Graces? Such governors 
 would be fit companions for the man who could sit 
 playing soft music on a fiddle M'hen his house was on 
 lire. I do not conceive how any of your acquirements 
 can be turned, so as to serve our purpose. You seem 
 to possess no talents that we can make use of; and no
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 97 
 
 intentions which we can notice : I know of no means 
 of employing you, unless it be as a spy, which office 
 your capacity would enable you to execute with ad- 
 vantage ; but of such we are surrounded by crowds. 
 My good lady, you see I cannot help you ; 1 am sorry 
 fqr your situation, but my scrupulous conscience will 
 not permit my wasting any of the public's money on 
 you, as it appears you can be of no service to the state ; 
 besides, the populace would reflect upon me as a bad 
 economist of the nation's sacred treasures. You will 
 excuse me, as my time and attention are wholly oc- 
 cupied on matters which I perceive to be far above 
 your comprehension, and totally foreign to your aims, 
 therefore any longer conference is only to waste your 
 time as well as my own." 
 
 Just at this instant the minister was informed that 
 certain important persons from the city desired to have 
 a few minutes communication with him, when instant- 
 ly he ran out of the room, and left our Beauty to the 
 contemplation of her own thoughts. Thus she re- 
 mained a considerable time with more patience than 
 hope, unwilling to quit the place in despair, whilst 
 possibly the great man might return, and lend a more 
 favourable ear to her petition. " I wish to cherish ex- 
 pectations of good," said she, ^' and will wait the 
 awful event of my fate." She sunk down in a chair, 
 and her spirits failed her, when she muttered to her- 
 self the following soliloquy. 
 
 " I cannot flatter myself with hope," said she ; '^ I 
 have no attractions to gain a credit here ; for we are to 
 recollect, that the chief and proper end of government 
 is not to reward or even notice ingenuity or industry^ 
 but to repress vice, therefore the whole business of 
 ministers is to have their eyes fixed on the vicious 
 alone, to keep strict watch on the turbulent, the dis- 
 contented, and the lawless, as objects of their severity, 
 or else so to manage them, that they may become as 
 sistants to their power; also carefully to maintain the 
 authority whereby to keep good order and subjection, 
 and to bestow rewards with a liberal hand on those
 
 98 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 only who nre ready and willing to assist or increase 
 tliat authority to any possible extent. To such, alone, 
 goverments are to he indulgent. We daily see the 
 effects of this grateful disposition of the state hy the 
 vast fortunes made, or splendid situations gained, by 
 those who have promoted, or display an eagerness to 
 promote, tliis great and good end. But as to ingenuity 
 and industry, my only dower, they are qualities of a 
 nature harmless, peaceful, and humble, being most 
 commonly the offspring of indigence, and the associ- 
 ates of those few only who have neither time nor 
 desire to be meddling in politics ; therfore they create 
 no political sensations of either love, hope, or fear in 
 the state. They are so imperceptible to the eye of 
 power, that they are overlooked ; and was it not for 
 their pecuniary contributions to the support of govern- 
 ment, (an honour which is never denied them,) would 
 be totally forgotten, like a non-existence." 
 
 In this manner our Beauty reasoned with herself, 
 and might have continued to reason longer, had she 
 not been suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a 
 well-dressed gentleman into the room, whistling the 
 tune of '•^ Hearts of Oak," who, when he saw her, 
 thus addressed her: '• It is you, madam, 1 presume, 
 who have been soliciting favour of the minister, whom 
 I have just left. As 1 suppose you are the person he 
 mentioned to me, therefore I can inform you, that I 
 heard him say that your claims to favour from the 
 state were very frivolous, and that no attention could 
 be paid to such curious and mistaken notions of im- 
 portance, as those on which you founded your pre- 
 tensions. If you had devised a new tax, or discovered 
 a means to increase the force of gunpowder, you 
 could not have thought more of yourself, by his ac- 
 count; therefore, tarrying longer in this place is un- 
 necessary; you will see no more of him to-day, I can 
 assure you. His important hours are perpetually oc- 
 cupied in matters from which his country may reap 
 advantage : he is, indeed, a wonderful man. I wish 
 you a very good morning.'"
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. gg 
 
 On thus taking his leave, he quitted the room, not 
 much to the surprize of our Beauty, who had, in her 
 own mind, anticipated the result of this her dernier 
 resort; and she now remained one of that little group 
 of the blessed; who expecting nothing can defy disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 CHAPTEU V. AND LAST. 
 
 Tke Beauty receives a vast Treasure in wholesome 
 Advice; a Species of Riches seemingly much more 
 easy to bestow than to use. 
 
 When she became thus a prey to poverty, all her 
 acquaintance, of course, thought themselves sufficient- 
 ly wiser than herself, and therefore took upon them to 
 admonish and direct her in what she was to do for her 
 own good ; one tells her she ought to put her hand to 
 drawing flowers, fruit, shells, insects ; another, to 
 paint fans, or else miniatures of the favorite play- 
 ers in favorite characters, or of striking scenes in 
 favorite novels ; or to draw caricatures of public 
 characters, or describe the pastime of infants, or 
 any such elegant and pleasing matters, fitted for the 
 amusement of ladies and gentlemen of the politest 
 circles; and this, they said, would be spending her 
 time to some purpose, and cautioned her not to hold 
 her head so high, with her rhodomontade notions pro- 
 ceeding from pride and impertinence, as if she thought 
 the world could not turn round without her lielpiug 
 hand; — adding, that it was intolerable folly and pre 
 sumption in her and nothing better; and, if persisted 
 in, she might be very sure of being humbled according 
 to her arrogance. — All this was told her in friendly 
 plain English, for it is quite unnecessary to treat the 
 poor with ceremony. 
 
 Another officious friend, although unasked, would 
 still advise, saying, " Why not try your luck in rural
 
 100 VARIEIIES ON ART. 
 
 and tender scenes purely sentimental? Seat yourself 
 at a cottage door, incline your Lead with studied grace, 
 and, with an elegant languor in your eye, look as if 
 you iiad seen better days; let a spinning-wheel be 
 placed near, to itulicate your industry, and pretty 
 poultry round you, to shew the soft compassion of 
 your angelic mind. Y^ou may have a straw hat upon 
 your head, lined with a becoming colour. This, 
 which you may place a little on one side of your fore- 
 bead, will add wonderfully to your charms, yet at the 
 same time give an air of careless neglect; or tie a 
 white handkerchief round your head and under your 
 chin, for as the poor have no white handkerchiefs, it 
 will serve to shew that you are not one of the vulgar. 
 
 '' Thus equipped, you will become a most interest- 
 ing and sentimental figure of elegant distress, which 
 cannot fail to captivate, with irresistible force, all 
 those who cannot make the distinction between af- 
 fectation and the real expression of pure and beautiful 
 nature; and as this class is by far the most numerous, 
 you will, of course, gain numerous friends." 
 
 One of her intimates, who was true to her and her 
 interest, addressed her in words to this eflfect: " My 
 dear and unfortunate friend, your situation appears to 
 me to be truly deplorable, especially when I consider 
 the modes of tlie country in which you have but too 
 much flattered yourself with hopes of success. 1 will 
 not deceive you with false notions to your utter ruin, 
 but, on the contrary, like a plain dealer and true 
 friend, will explain to you the naked truth of your 
 lamentable case ; which may enable you with the more 
 patience to receive the advice I shall then give you, 
 and prevent your being mortified at what is said pure- 
 ly for your good. 
 
 " In short, the true state of your case has been but 
 too plainly proved to you by woeful experience, 
 though you are yet so wilfully blind as to nourish hope. 
 
 " You must plainly perceive that all those ideas of 
 sublimity in your mind, of tragic grandeur, are every 
 where received with disgust : and as to comedy, in you
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 101 
 
 it is deemed vulgar. The city considers all the work 
 you have done, or all that you can do, as nothing more 
 than useless lumher. The state, you see, will never 
 employ you to immortalize their worthies or their 
 heroes, and the church scorns your connections : even 
 those prattling gossips, the daily newspapers, who can 
 find leisure to give a loaded detail of every earth- horn 
 trifle, those with whom nothing is too trivial, gross, 
 silly, or unimportant, who are the true thermometers 
 of the temperature of the people, pass you hy as a non- 
 existence, unless now and then a palpable puff is 
 given from personal friendship, or by pay, or ac- 
 cideutal notice is taken of you by abuse — for your 
 real genuine praise is always given with a certain 
 portion of fear, lest it pall upon the unwilling reader. 
 Even the annals of your own royal school declare that 
 you are scarcely to be found on record. In fact, you 
 are not as yet naturalized, and therefore can claim no 
 natural rights. Thus, in the whole combination, I 
 think it must appear pretty distinctly to you, that the 
 country has you now in check mate, and I should be 
 glad to be informed by a person of your ingenuity, 
 how you will make your next move, or what is your 
 view or hope. The few customers to your little shop 
 from Paternoster-Row, you say, are not sufficient to 
 keep soul and body together; and I know traders are 
 always hard dealers. — In fine, you must abandon the 
 capricious goddess Fame, when imperious hunger 
 calls you. I seriously ask you, is it not much better to 
 have a good dinner than to starve on high flown 
 notions of sublimity? I confess that I admire the 
 integrity and noble independence of your heart, and 
 the justness of that proper pride, which inspires you 
 with the desire to execute the noblest purposes in 
 your power, by wliich the memory of the honored 
 dead might be rendered immortal, and the eminent 
 actions of the living would become illustrious ex- 
 amples in the eyes of the world, and society at large 
 be enlightened, from tiie habitual view of images of 
 pure beauty and heroic virtue, high wrought by efforts 
 
 3 L
 
 10^ VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 of sublime genius. But alas ! this is not the time, nor 
 is this the place. For although there may he some, 
 who are able to appreciate witi) justness the value of 
 your highest efforts, yet these are too few to give you 
 a sufficient support. The populace is not prepared to 
 relish so great an attempt; — you come upon the 
 « ountry unawares, and resemble those unhappy mis- 
 sionaries, \vhose zeal made them attempt to teach the 
 holy mysteries of our religion to savages, who had so 
 small a share of cultivation, that instead of listening to 
 lljose pious pastors, they first knocked them down, 
 and then eat them Learn of me ; humble your pride, 
 if hunger has not already humbled you enough. 
 
 *•' I shall now take the liberty to give you some 
 advice for your future benefit, still most sensibly feel- 
 ing that it may be a degree of mortification to you : 
 however, true friendship is always willing to run the 
 risk of oflending, if by it she may do a real service. 
 
 *^ I will plainly point out to you the path which you 
 must follow to better your situation : 
 
 ^' It has been frequently hinted to me that mimicry 
 is your proper walk, and as it is that which suits all 
 capacities, it will therefore give universal delight : try 
 this scheme; turn your mind to mimicry : here all will 
 comprehend you, and all will be partakers of the 
 pleasure it affords; your abilities qualify you for this 
 department; to you it will be but play, and affluence 
 will be the result.*^ 
 
 COJ\T.LLSIOX. 
 
 It was at this period of the Beauty's misfortunes, 
 that I undertook her narrative. — She had been, as I 
 now discovered, exceedingly mortified at the whole- 
 some advice of her best friend; it sounded to her like 
 insult, but no remedy was to be found : she had rumi- 
 nated on it till she grew very hungry, and as her 
 hunger increased, her pride diminished, and she said
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. |03 
 
 witluQ herself, " This state of want cannot be en- 
 dured; I must console myself by the example of a 
 great prophet, and say, * if the mountain will not at 
 my order come to me, why then I must go to the 
 mountain.' I will practise mimicry, since I must— - 
 and have plenty." She accordingly followed her 
 friend's advice; and soon eminence and plenty were 
 her own; the young, the old, the great, the rich, the 
 learned, the wise, the beautiful, the vain, and the 
 proud, attended late and early at her gates ; from the 
 new-born infant " mewling and puking in the nurse's 
 arms," to the " slippery pat aloon," tottering on the 
 brink of the grave ; and she mimicked the likeness of 
 whoever came, with so much address, that each indi- 
 vidual was filled with rapturous gratitude ; for she did 
 not draw in caricatiira, but gave an air of either love- 
 liness, dignity, or wisdom, which seemed to assimilate 
 with the subject, and appeared to raise it beyond it- 
 self; and vanity became enamoured of iis image. In 
 short, the experiment so successfully answered, that 
 from poverty and rags, she now flaunts in as good 
 clothes as any Christian would wish to wear, is well 
 fed, and looks sleek and in good case, is both fat and 
 cheerful, and is even tliought a fit companion for any 
 real gentlemen or lady in the land; is, at times, suf- 
 fered even to dine (in private) with my lord and my 
 lady, and the second table is always at her command, 
 (of that she is free:) while otherwise, with her pride 
 and refined notions, she might have remained a wan- 
 dering outcast, till slie had died starving in a corner, 
 unnoticed and forgot. 
 
 But such is the perverseuess of human nature, that, 
 notwithstanding all her plenty, she still, from an un- 
 couquered lurking pride, seems to feel herself as one 
 degraded ; she laments having no longer the power to 
 exercise her highest talents, and, like an encaged bird, 
 who, poor fool, still flutters those wings in pride of 
 heart, which long since have ceased to be of any use, 
 so she fancies herself reduced to be no better than the 
 votary of vanity and that she suffers fur the advantage
 
 104) VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 of others. And truly, thus far I must urge in justifica- 
 tion of these seemingly strange notions, that, in conse- 
 quence of her new callhig, she is materially injured in 
 her person; as, for instance, the original beauty of her 
 form is, by such frequent habits of distortion, at length 
 almost lost: her mouth, by screwing and stretching, 
 now reaches, almost, from ear to ear ; and her nose, by 
 the habitual twisting and pulling into various forms, 
 to bend it to those whom she has aimed to represent, 
 now no longer retains the beauty it had once of the 
 Grecian contour — at one time, she had nearly broke 
 the gristle of it, by attempting to form it to the likeness 
 of a person of fashion, whom she endeavoured to per- 
 sonate. Then her eyes also have acquired such a kind 
 of squinting leer, as renders her really disagreeable 
 to look at. 
 
 She still, in outward appearance, at least, pre- 
 serves all the dignity of patience; for, at times, when 
 she has been insultingly told, that she got her bread 
 by grinning for her dinner, she has gaily replied, 
 ^' Let those laugh who win ; they cannot deny that I 
 have a good dinner; and, as all pride within me is now 
 subdued, I am therefore content with my humble lot." 
 
 FOSTSCRIPT, 
 
 The curious reader will, perhaps, receive some 
 gratification, though not pleasure in being informed 
 of the farther ingenious opinions of those sagacious 
 critics, to whom I have alluded in a former chapter. 
 They still persist in their idea that the Slighted 
 Beauty is a personification of the Fine Arts, and, in 
 addition to what has already been said, they insist 
 upon it, that her motley dress, in which she is de- 
 scribed to have appeared on her return to England, 
 is an allusion to the different styles of those various 
 schools of Painting in Europe, whose manners and 
 excellencies are imbibed and adopted, iu a greater or
 
 THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY. 105 
 
 less degree, hy the professors in this country, who 
 compose the mass, which we may now presume to 
 call the English, or rather British, school of art. 
 
 The chandler's shop, they say, is significant of the 
 employment given to the fine arts in furnishing all 
 those petty performances, which so much amuse the 
 purchasers of modern art. Her lectures must mean 
 Hogarth's moral works. Her sisters undoubtedly are 
 Sculpture and Poetry, and her brother no other than 
 Architecture ; and her final resort to mimicry is veri • 
 fied by the common employment of English talent in 
 the practice of portraiture.
 
 ON 
 
 ORIGINALITY, 
 
 IMITATORS, AND COLLECTORS. 
 
 -Desilies imitator in arctum. 
 
 The silent improvement of the mind may distinctly 
 be seen in tlie progressive works of any great painter, 
 whose life has been long. 
 
 His first step of art is a dry imitation of the most 
 obvious part of nature, without sufficient knowledge, 
 and without power of selection. 
 
 The second stage is full of acquirement, which, to 
 the young and elated student, becomes delightful from 
 its novelty, and makes him look down on the simpli- 
 city of nature as scarcely adequate to his purpose, 
 because, in comparison with his own conceptions, it 
 appears to him insipid. 
 
 The third and last state is a mature investigation of 
 nature, regulated by t!ie principles of science. 
 
 The first of these stages is of no value ; every one 
 can arrive at it who is willing to make the attempt. It 
 is of no greater difficulty than walking or dancing, 
 and may be acquired by all in a certain degree ; but to 
 w^alk or dance with eminent grace or dignity, must be 
 the peculiar endowment of the individual, and extends 
 beyond all rules or lessons.
 
 108 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 The case is the same in painting : it is the display 
 of superiority alone which gives it rank, and entitles 
 it to respect; although the ignorant pay nearly an 
 equal degree of homage to every attempt, idle or in- 
 genious, because they are not sensible of the differ- 
 ence, w^ide as it is, between that which it is the lot of 
 so very few to attain, and that which is within the 
 reach of all who take the trouble but to try. 
 
 A true criterion of talent is alone to be formed from 
 the novelty, the originality, which is to be found in 
 any work of art. As this is one of the constitutional 
 marks of a powerful mind, which views nature from 
 its own sensation or feeling, and an indispensable 
 requisite in every work of genius, originality becomes 
 the very test of merit. Something must be disclosed 
 in the painter's attempt, not only of an estimable 
 quality, but of such a kind as tlie world has never 
 before seen; and this essence, be its sphere ever so 
 confined, will yet, according to its value and quantity, 
 ascertain its degree of genius. 
 
 Therefore, it is not enough to do again that which 
 has already been done, be it ever so grand or sublime : 
 for, notwithstanding every ingenious endeavour to 
 hide the debt by common-place alterations, the work 
 will still want that novelty by which it is to captivate, 
 and which is to give it all its intrinsic value; and, for 
 that reason, it will never pass as the offspring of an 
 elevated or strong mind, although it may denote one 
 of much ingenuity. 
 
 Imitation is one of the means by v/hich genius 
 often makes its first advances towards excellence; but 
 it should ever be regarded as the means only, and not 
 as the end. In every species of copying from the 
 work of man, you put your mind in a state of sub- 
 jection and servitude; you are but making a copy 
 from a copy ; it is giving up your own observation and 
 study of nature into the hands of another. 
 
 Fame and immortality can never be reached by him 
 who is contented to depend on imitation only for their 
 attainment. Whilst you follow, it ig well known, you
 
 ORIGINALITY, IMITATORS, & COLLECTORS. 109 
 
 must be behind. If you contend for fame through the 
 channel of imitation, you must remember that, in order 
 to possess yourself of that eminence which has long 
 been the distinction of another, you must not be con- 
 tent with borrowing or drawing your nourishment 
 from him alone ; for while he thus continues to claim 
 superiority, he precludes you from the glory at whicli 
 you aim. You must surpass him in his own particular 
 excellence: you must, by superior achievement, ob- 
 scure his name and anniliilate his importance to the 
 world. To accomplish this end, you must far outdo 
 those excellencies which you seemed to imitate, by 
 giving to them new and unexpected beauties, and, by 
 these means, you will make that, which you began 
 with considering as your example and your pattern, 
 end in being your footstool only. 
 
 It was in this manner that the genius of Raffaelle 
 triumphed over Massaccio, and over Pietro Perugino 
 his own master; and yet a stronger example may be 
 seen in the instance of Shakspeare, whose renown so 
 totally obliterated all traces of his predecessors, from 
 whom he is said to have copied, that, had not their 
 names been rescued from oblivion by the untired 
 researches of the laborious antiquary, we should not 
 now have known that they had ever existed. 
 
 The imitator of another, if fame be his object, must 
 remember, that he wages war against the elected 
 sovereign of the province which he attempts to win, 
 and that, in his endeavours after a station of immor- 
 tality, he makes pretensions to a throne already filled, 
 and which can hold but one. If, indeed, he prove 
 finally successful, and raise his point of art to higher 
 excellence than can be found in the productions which 
 he imitates, his predecessor will then appear to have 
 merely furnished liim with hints of which he alone 
 has been able to make the full use, and the prize of 
 fame will be solely his own. The world will cease to 
 find a value in that which they once admired, when 
 they see it presented to them in so much more perfect 
 a state; aad of consequence all former examples will 
 
 3 M
 
 110 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 be rendered useless, become neglected, lost, and soou 
 forgotten in the attractive sj)lendour of iiis superior 
 excellence. 
 
 But if, on the contrary, the imitator fail to surpass 
 the object of his rivalship, the fate of being neglected 
 xvill be his; for the world is not solicitous to see that 
 done in an inferior degree, wliich it lias already seen 
 executed with success; nor must he, in that case, pre- 
 sume to flatter liimself that he has added a single atom 
 to the fund of human knowledge or improvement. It 
 is from this cause tliat tiie least portion of originality, 
 although, as has been said, displaying itself in the 
 lowest department of art, is more estimable in the eye 
 of genius, than the most successful imitation of the 
 highest excellence. 
 
 Tlie originality of genius produces a variety, which 
 is one of the greatest sources of our entertainment and 
 pleasure, and is soothing to the inherent impatience of 
 our nature. 
 
 Variety is a beauty requisite in every work of art, 
 and can only be wrong, when carried to a degree of 
 excess or affectation, or when persisted in to the pre- 
 judice of higher requisites. 
 
 There is, indeed, an originality of so high a class, 
 that too few^ are the minds able to comprehend its ex- 
 cellence : I mean that w hich shows itself in the high- 
 est department of art, which we term the grand style. 
 
 Of this style it may be asserted, that, although it 
 appeal to us witli great and commanding powers, 
 though it convey a sentiment the most awful and im- 
 pressive, yet it speaks a language so little cultivated, 
 or even rudely known, that none but minds the most 
 highly enlightened can be made fully sensible of its 
 essence. 
 
 Miserable would be the state of that artist, who, 
 endowed by nature with powers so rare and suited to 
 so gre.at a task, after intense application, and perhaps 
 the sacrifice of health to labour, should find in the end, 
 that he was to tell his tale in a country in which his 
 language had not been learned, and to a people who
 
 ORIGINALITY, IMITATORS, & COLLECTORS, m 
 
 would not endure to hear that his work was neither 
 the subject of vulgar criticism, nor a mere toy which 
 they are entitled to praise or condemn according to 
 their ignorance or caprice ; that it is not so much done 
 for their pleasure as designed for their improvement, 
 by opening the mind to receive impressions of the 
 highest order, and aiding it to nourish the highest 
 virtues. 
 
 In this style must be classed, in a greater or less 
 degree, all those works of art which are intended to 
 move the mind with terror and with pity, subjects 
 which we but too commonly find rejected with disgust. 
 This refinement upon delicacy itself, this extreme 
 tenderness of sensibility, which is uuable, even in 
 picture, to survey an object of terror, has been one of 
 the greatest hindrances to the advancement of modern 
 art in England, notwithstanding that scenes of this 
 description, when executed by foreign masters, are 
 received with open arms into collections the most 
 select, and viewed with unbounded admiration. 
 
 Surely, an evil star has presided over the fate of 
 British arts, condemned for inability to do that which 
 they have been prohibited from attempting, and driven 
 to the necessity of wasting their strength on trivial 
 subjects, unworthy of the powers and below the dig- 
 nity of art ! 
 
 Yet, while subjects of the highest order of art have 
 been excluded in England from the painter's canvas, it 
 cannot but strike an observer as a singular circum- 
 stance, that our stage is not only permitted, but even 
 required, to exhibit scenes of the deepest horror, and 
 the tragic dramatist has free licence to *' touch the very 
 bounds" of all that we abhor. 
 
 The principal reason, I apprehend, wherefore sub- 
 jects of ten'or have been objected to in painting, at the 
 same time that they are thus admired in the deepest 
 scenes of tragedy, is that our minds are not prepared, 
 by degrees, for the impression made on us by the 
 picture, which flashing upon us at once, affrights us, 
 whereas the effect of the drama steals upon us gradii-
 
 lis VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 ally, by slow paces, until we are rendered capable of 
 viewing the most terrible scenes. 
 
 Fortunately for the cause of the liberal arts ia 
 Britain, there appears a strong probability that the 
 assistance given to Painting and Sculpture, by the 
 sjplendid and munificent establishments which have 
 just at this time been formed amongst us, may soon 
 raise a school to vie M'itli those that have, for ages, 
 been the boast of every other polished state in Europe ; 
 and that the charm will at length be broken, which 
 has so long kept the arts of design in bonds, with a 
 sort of necromantic power. 
 
 A melancholy spectacle has it offered to English- 
 men, to view the pining arts of Britain beset and 
 trampled by an army of connoisseurs and collectors of 
 foreign pictures, strengthened by the most powerful 
 assistance of dealers in this species of traffic, all 
 arranged rank and file, and bidding defiance to every 
 eifort of our own country, associating closely among 
 themselves, assigning great names to the fragments 
 they possessed, standing before them with affected 
 rapture, and congratulating each other on their signal 
 good fortune and their taste ! These men beheld, with 
 terror and dismay, all such as fell under the suspicion 
 of real knowledge and judgement in the art, appre- 
 liensive lest a discovery might be made, which would 
 dissolve the magic charm, in one moment annihilate 
 their visionary riches, and change to trumpery their 
 ideal wealth. 
 
 This whole mass of operation might have been 
 surveyed with the eye of compassion, as we see the 
 poor lunatic who fancies himself a king, or regarded 
 as a ludicrous scene in a comedy, but that it was not 
 quite so innocent in its effects. It kept up perpetual 
 war against the talents of all our living Artists, while 
 an excess of adulation was bestowed on foreign 
 Avorks, and prices demanded and given for them as if 
 they had been the productions, not of men, but angels ; 
 the possessors, with affected wonder, asking the reason 
 ichy such works could not now be done^ as if any op-
 
 ORIGINALITY, IMITATOHS, & COLLECTORS. 113 
 
 portimity had been afforded of ascertaining by ex- 
 periment, whether they could be done or not. 
 
 I shall conclude with observing, that if the exces- 
 sive praises, of which some men of this description 
 were so liberal, had been bestowed, with pure justice, 
 on those works alone which deserve, and ever will 
 claim, our respect, it would have been grateful to 
 every lover of true genius ; but when, on the contrary, 
 all sorts of common place or ruined performances 
 were presented for your admiration, and when you 
 perceived that mere trifles were called miracles, and 
 saw all this lofty farce incessantly played off between 
 cunning that sells, and ignorance that buys, it became 
 difficult to view the scene with common patience.
 
 LETTER 
 
 FROM 
 
 A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS * 
 
 As an old practitioner in the liberal arts, I claim 
 your indulgence. I consider you iu some degree as 
 their champion and protector, and though, by your 
 profession, I know you cannot be rich, yet I am sure 
 you are honest, and your attention ever alive to the 
 voice of truth. I therefore boldly make my complaint 
 to you, as it flows from the source of experience, and 
 beg leave to bring forward to your observation a 
 species of patrons of the arts, who, saving the pre- 
 dominance of their vanity, have, I believe, very good 
 intentions, yet produce by their actions tlie worst of 
 consequences. These signiors^ like libertines in 
 another department, are perpetually in quest of nov- 
 elty, and, every year, find a new wonder, whose 
 fancied talents are of their own creation, and on whom 
 they lavish all their little patronage and attention ; 
 some embryo artist^ cheaply purchased, who bends 
 with profound humility and homage for the unex- 
 pected blessing, thanks heaven and his genius, and 
 concludes that his fortune is made. The fond patron 
 is elated with the gratifying liope that his discern- 
 ment and his taste will now be proved in the face of 
 
 * Originally addressed to the Artist.
 
 116 VAlllETlES ON ART. 
 
 day, by the splendour of the rising genius, which his 
 sagacity has been able to discover before it was known 
 to, or became the wonder of, the world, and thus his 
 fancy unites him as a joint sharer in the future glory 
 of his protege. 
 
 Tlie consequences produced by this precipitate 
 favour, are often deplorable, as the eflfects are pre- 
 cisely like tiiose of a trap. The young, unthinking, 
 vain, though innocent and pitial)le, victim is deluded 
 on, till the flower of his youth be past, and till it is 
 become too late for him to begin or seek another pro- 
 fession ; and when he is thus irretrievably encaged in 
 the trammels of his art, his patron leaves him to his 
 late — commonly either finding himself mistaken in 
 the talents of his subject, or cooling in his attachment 
 as novelty wears off, or tired, perhaps, by repeated 
 attempts to promote the fame of one whom lie can 
 prevail on so very few to admire. The unhappy 
 wonder is thus turned adrift on chance and on the 
 world, where, if his profession be painting, he be- 
 comes a picture-cleaner or an out-cast, with poverty 
 in store, and leisure more than enough to deplore the 
 fatal hour he first was favoured by the caprice of his 
 dangerous admirer, while the patron, untaught by ex- 
 perience, all alert, spreads fresh nets for fresh game, 
 ensnares anew some unfledged subject, but with lively 
 hopes of better luck; thus spoiling an honest trades- 
 man, whose success in the world his bounty would 
 have insured. 
 
 The wonder-hunters put me in mind of those gen- 
 tlemen iu iiartholomew fair, who are masters of what 
 is called a Flying Coach, and are continually taking 
 up fresh darlings, one after another, giving each little 
 fluttering lieart a whirl in their airy vehicle, which 
 ^' swiftly flies, yet makes no way," but having once 
 set it down again on the same ground from whence 
 they took it up, regardless of the piteous countenance 
 of the poor mortifled urchin, look briskly round in 
 quest of fresh aspirers to their bewitching honors^
 
 LETTER FROM A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. II7 
 
 who are, of course, in tbeir turn, cast off like those 
 who went before. 
 
 For, give me leave to remark to you, that those 
 professors, ^^ which have borne the burden and heat 
 of the day," and whose long and laborious studies 
 have been bent on the improvement of abilities which 
 their efforts have demonstrated, arc never in the 
 thoughts of such patrons as objects of encouragement : 
 fresh wonders are all they seek, totally regardless in 
 what manner those future years are to be spent, over 
 the fate of which they may be said to have east the 
 die. 
 
 Peace to all such! — But there have, of late, ap- 
 peared (thanks to our better stars !) instances of such 
 patronage as is truly patriotic, which revive the 
 drooping head of art, and promise national splendour 
 from its influence. 
 
 I am, &c. &c., 
 
 A Disappointed Genius. 
 
 S N
 
 ON THE 
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF PAINTJNG ON 
 POETRY. 
 
 Decipit exemplar. 
 
 It is a received opinion, in mintls not used to make 
 nice distinctions, that painting is the follower of, and 
 dependant on poetry ; and this notion has, in some in- 
 stances, been inculcated by the authorities of such 
 men as apparently ought to have understood each of 
 those sciences better: to which painters have never 
 given an answer, because, having only the power of 
 being eloquent on canvas, they have no opportunity 
 of controverting this palpable absurdity. They are in 
 the state of the lion in the fable, who was shown by 
 the forester his image conquered by the man : had 
 lions been the carvers, this example had been re- 
 versed. 
 
 Take all your ideas from the descriptions of the 
 poets, and all your actions and expressions of the 
 passions from the stage, and you will then be a hope- 
 ful painter. — This is the voice of folly ; these are the 
 watery notions of insipid men; yet, however ridicu- 
 lous or false such advice may appear to an enliglit- 
 ened mind, however confined and ignorant in concep- 
 tiou, it would notwithstanding certainly be received 
 as good counsel, by many whose education and
 
 120 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 power of intellect have sufficiently enabled tlieni to 
 see its grossness, had they but spared the time 
 rcfjuisite to make tlie inquiry. 
 
 1 do not mean to deny that either of those arts may 
 reap some small advantage from the assistance. of tlic 
 other; they, as studious followers of nature, may be 
 said to receive more or less assistance from all things 
 that exist. 
 
 Painting and poetry both begin their career from 
 the same important point, and each strives to ap- 
 proach the same goal by different paths. Like com- 
 panions of equality on a journey, they may at times 
 derive aid from each other. 
 
 13ut let it ever be remembered, that they are equally 
 the children and pupils of Nature, rival imitators of 
 lier in hopes of fame ; and if either the poet or the 
 painter be obliged to submit to the dominion or di- 
 rection of the other, he will soon find himself deluded 
 out of his right road by an ignis fatuus, a false repre- 
 sentation of tlie great archetype. Moreover, in addi- 
 tion to all his own errors, he will frequently perceive 
 himself involved in those of his companion whom he 
 has acknowledged as his superior, thus proving him- 
 self to be of a mean genius, without hope of being ever 
 ranked in the first class. For he demonstrates, that 
 his capacity does not enable him to judge or choose 
 for liimself, hut that, instead of applying to nature di- 
 rectly, he receives his ideas through the medium of 
 another's mind, whom, like a weak bigot, he has 
 made, of his equal, his protector and saint. 
 
 I have often thought, that there is no better way to 
 prove the defects or excellencies of a poet, in respect 
 to his descriptive powers or knowledge of nature, than 
 by making a composition for a picture from the images 
 which he raises, and from his own description of his 
 characters and their actions. You by these means put 
 him on his trial : you will detect every deviation from 
 nature : and, when his performance is brought to this 
 strict examination, it will sometimes happen, that what 
 in words might seem like a true representation of
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF PAINTING ON POETRY. 121 
 
 nature to the poet, to the painter may appear much 
 like the tale of a false witness in a court of justice, and 
 he will soon be convinced, that the admired work is 
 no more than an ingenious falsehood. 
 
 Historical truths, howsoever related, possess a cer- 
 tain degree of unavoidable simplicity, and are mark- 
 ed by such circumstances only as are necessary in ex- 
 plaining the state of the case in question; whereas tijc 
 poet, indulging his fancy, perhaps, to forward his 
 own particular purpose, but too frequently loads his 
 tale with those additional conceptions, which in the 
 painter's province will prove only cumbersome min- 
 utise, and, when set before him as an example, will 
 become a stumbling-block in his way. 
 
 Tliere is also an interesting energy in pure nature, 
 which poetry, as an imitative art, cannot possibly 
 possess. 
 
 I wish to have it understood, that wliat I say now 
 is relative chiefly to descriptive poetry ; in which, 
 whosoever has searched the works of the poets with 
 a painter's mind, must have observed the frequent 
 occurrence of circumstances that are incompatible 
 with each other. 
 
 It is, surely, not the province of one art to imitate 
 another ; nature alone is the great object from which 
 all art draws its nourishment, and it will be found by 
 experiment, tiiat art thus copying art in succession, 
 tlie evaporation of nature's essence will be so great at 
 each remove, that very soon scarce any of the original 
 flavour will be perceptible, and besides tliis, it will 
 have gained an additional taste from each vessel 
 through which it has passed. 
 
 To paint, therefore, the passions, from the exhibi- 
 tions of them on the stage, or from any intended de 
 scriptions of nature by the poets, is to remove your- 
 self one degree farther from truth, and places the 
 painter in the same forlorn state to which a poet 
 would reduce himself, who made pictures aud the 
 stage his only means of seeing nature.
 
 i^2 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 The greatest works of art, both in painting and in 
 sculpture, evidently derive all their highest excellence 
 from being transcripts of ideas formed from a study 
 of general nature, and regulated by a judicious choice; 
 and, if this be the case, it must then be acknowledged 
 they would have been precisely the same, had poetry 
 never existed but in the mind alone. 
 
 Perhaps it may be asked, why was our prime poet 
 Shakspeare selected for the English painters to try 
 their first etforts on? — 1 would answer, not because 
 he helped those painters in their art, but because the 
 popular eminence of Shakspeare's name would help 
 on to high notoriety any work connected with a poet 
 already so precious, and would thus become the most 
 ready means of attracting an unwilling people to pay 
 some attention to their unknown painters. And I will 
 venture to pronounce that not one of those pictures, 
 from the best to the very worst, gained the smallest 
 degree of intrinsic worth from the genius of Shaks- 
 peare; and for this plain reason, that what Shaks- 
 peare had done best was totally out of the province of 
 the painter's art to represent ; and also, that where 
 the painter has succeeded best, it has been in that 
 which it was not in the power of words to express, 
 but belongs to painting alone, and which therefore 
 even Shakspeare was unable to give^ notwithstanding 
 all his acknowledged powers. 
 
 The above reasons, I conjecture, are the only true 
 ones which have induced any painter of merit to paint 
 from any poet, not because he was helped in tlic 
 powers of his art, but because he was helped in the 
 sale of his work; since, by connecting himself with 
 the poet, he immediately partook, and became a 
 sharer, in all the advantages of liis established noto- 
 riety. 
 
 It will be urged that Nicholas Poussin has painted 
 from the poets. This may be true, and I am a[)t to 
 think he was, of all painters, the fittest to paint irom 
 them. He was (If I may be allowed the expression) 
 the pedant of painters. His subjects are often from
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF PAINTING ON POETRY. 123 
 
 the poets, his figures from the antique statues, and his 
 expressions of the passions chiefly from the stage or 
 some other substitute for nature: he had a predilec- 
 tion for any helps, so he might avoid approaching 
 that source. He had so little the habit of applying to 
 nature for assistance, that it produced in him a pain- 
 ful awkwardness, whenever necessity obliged hira to 
 it; and, therefore, he is entitled the learned painter, 
 in distinction from the natural painter. His expres- 
 sions of the passions seem to have been made from 
 description, or by receipts for expression; in conse- 
 quence of which they have the appearance of being 
 overcharged : it is tliis appearance which gives to his 
 figures the air of hypocrites or pretenders to feeling, 
 and is therefore apt to disgust, and to prevent our 
 sympathy. 
 
 These are his greatest defects ; yet it must be also 
 remembered, that, mixed with tliat which ought not 
 to be imitated, there is much in Poussin to be justly 
 admired. It is most true, also, that his expressions 
 cannot be mistaken by the most vulgar observer, any 
 more than you can mistake those of a mask ; but then 
 they are without that beautiful variety with whicli 
 nature teems, without those nice dilierences which 
 create the exquisite sympathy, the interest, which we 
 find inspired by the works of RafiTaelle. Kaffaelle, 
 indeed, by possessing a thousand times the capa- 
 city of Poussin, had a field of greater extent, in which 
 to range and to make a more select choice for his pur- 
 pose; and this enabled him to approach so much 
 nearer to a comparison with Nature lierself, and gave 
 him the vast pre-eminence which lie possessed. — In 
 Poussin it is the head and the hand we admire: in 
 Raffaelle the head, the hand, the heart, command our 
 equal astonishment and delight. 
 
 It may be remarked, that the meaner painters and 
 young students, in their beginnings, are the most fond, 
 of any, of devoting their powers to the service of the 
 poets.
 
 124 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 There seem to have been but two principal causes, 
 why painting should ever have applied itself to poetry 
 for help : tiie one is the barrenness of those individual 
 minds which have sought and followed it ; the other, 
 that a picture not being capable of giving all the cir- 
 cumstances of a long narration, which yet may have 
 some point of time in its events fit for the powers of the 
 art, the spectator may refer to the poet's page, (who 
 ^ives the complicated detail) and will be thence 
 enabled to comprehend, with full effect, that sentiment 
 in tlie picture which no words can give. This last 
 reason is applicable also to subjects for painting taken 
 from history. 
 
 But another great argument to be urged against 
 painting from the poet is this ; that, as all human 
 powers are limited, you will find that the poet, be he 
 ever so great, has still had his weakness to hide ; he 
 has, judiciously perhaps, ranged through all his 
 knowledge of nature, to select out those parts in which 
 he could best bring his powers to a focus, and might 
 best be able to screen his wants ; consequently he 
 can give you at most but a partial view of nature, and 
 therefore his representation, like all art when tried by 
 the tally of nature and of truth, will be found fre- 
 quently to be distorted, and, in many respects, imper- 
 fect and unnatural, and must of course have a tendency 
 to mislead tlie efforts of the painter. 
 
 It is applicable to my present purpose and will ex- 
 plain what I mean to say, if I refer to an instance 
 where the same story is related by the historian and 
 by the poet. 
 
 The book of Ruth, as found in the Bible, is given 
 with all that fascinating simplicity, energy, and in- 
 terest, which ever accompany an unassuming relation 
 of simple facts ; and, from being divested of all art, it 
 captivates with irresistible power, like truth itself. 
 
 The same story is said to be also told by Thomson 
 in his Seasons, under the name of Lavinia. But the 
 distance at which it is removed from its original, by 
 the artifi.cial and studied modes of poetic narration,
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF PAINTING ON POETRY. 125 
 
 diminishes the air of truth, and renders sympathy 
 comparatively inadmissible. It would, therefore, he 
 the grossest absurdity for the painter to look to him 
 for his example. Besides, the means are here made to 
 predominate over the end. The author seems more 
 solicitous to draw our attention and admiration on his 
 own poetic powers, than on the delicate distress in 
 which he has involved his fair Lavinia, and reminds 
 us of some vain actors on the stage, who, instead of 
 attending to the character they have undertaken to 
 represent, are wholly employed in looking round on 
 the audience, to discover how many they have cap- 
 tivated by their charms. 
 
 This preference of the means to the end is the 
 disease of professorship, to which all professors are 
 but too liable. The painter is enamoured with hand- 
 ling and executive power; the accomplished per- 
 former in music, if required to play, will, instead of 
 such a composition as would recommend his taste or 
 delight your ear, sometimes give you that which has 
 no one property to recommend it to notice, but its 
 infinite diflBculty to be performed. 
 
 Bombast in poetry, and ranting on tlie stage, are 
 allowed to be the bane of either art; yet they have 
 power to captivate the vulgar, who abundantly admire 
 and freely give applause where sounding words in 
 the poet, or violent distortions in the actor, are oifered 
 as the substitute for meaning and for sense ; and many 
 an empty nothing seems embodied by these splendid 
 impositions. 
 
 But all this is of no sort of use towards helping tlie 
 painter in his work : the contemplation of it has rather 
 a tendency to hurt the state of his mind, in which the 
 grandeur and simplicity of Nature ought alone to 
 prevail, as they do when she inspires the works of the 
 greatest masters. 
 
 Where, in fact, can he go for succour, but to 
 nature? If he wish to represent the person of a beauti- 
 ful Eve on liis canvas, shall he wander to the poet? 
 And will he there, even in the highest examples of 
 
 3o
 
 136 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 the art, find himself much assisted in his eflPorts, by 
 beiug infurmed tliat 
 
 ^•' Heaven*^ was " in her e^c," 
 Or, 
 
 '^ In her gestures, dignity and loveP'' 
 
 I do not mean to say but that the poet, in so de- 
 scribing her, has done his work well, as all that he 
 Jiad to do was to make us conceive that his Eve was 
 complete and perfect, and this he has eifected by the 
 proper means in his art, leaving us to finish in our 
 minds the idea he has inspired: but the painter still 
 remains unassisted, and has yet to apply to nature as 
 his source of information, as he cannot paint, from 
 words, either " Heaven in her eye,"' or ^^ Love in her 
 gestures." 
 
 And, notwithstanding that many flights of imagina- 
 tion, arising in the mind of the poet, and particularly 
 fitted to his art, may have given vast delight, and 
 caused the highest admiration, we shall yet, on the 
 trial, be convinced that they are not adapted to that 
 of the painter, and therefore are no model for his imi- 
 tation; since the painter ought to furnish his work 
 with those materials best suited to his own art ar.d to 
 his own purpose, selected from Nature's boundless 
 variety by the direction and influence of his individual 
 disposition and sensation; by which means the work 
 will be new, anrl of consequence in a greater or less 
 degree delightful. 
 
 There cannot be a stronger proof of a genius for 
 painting, than to know well the subjects best adapted 
 to the powers of the art. 
 
 When you paint from a poet, you may be said to 
 have your dinner from the table of one man ; you 
 must take what he was able to give you, whether it 
 particularly suit your palate or not ; but from Nature's 
 great banquet you have an unbounded range for your 
 choice, you have the liberty which the poet had, of 
 selecting out those parts and those circumstances
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF PAINTING ON POETRY, i^ 
 
 which best suit your temper, your powers, and your 
 particular art. 
 
 It must without doubt be acknowledged, that every 
 work of the liberal arts is a lesson by which we may 
 be taught to discover and distinguish the highest 
 beauties of nature; still remembering that art is not 
 nature, any more than the directing post is tiie road 
 you look for. 
 
 I press the argument with the more force, to pre- 
 vent all bigotted reliance on guides, weak and fallible 
 as ourselves : Nature we may rely on with the most 
 absolute security, since in her there is nothing con- 
 tradictory or false, and when seen by the cultivated 
 mind of a man of genius, she presents an ample store 
 of that which is perfectly simple, beautiful, pathetic 
 and sublime, in a much higher degree than can be 
 found in any work of art, nature being the fountain of 
 all art. 
 
 I cannot but oflPer one remark of some authority, 
 which is, that in searching through the works of 
 Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, and Corregio, the most 
 eminent painters that have appeared in the world since 
 the revival of tlie arts, you will find but very few 
 subjects by their hands taken from a poet, and, of 
 their works of the highest fame, not one : and as these 
 names are at the highest pinnacle of art, it is a clear 
 proof of that eminence being within the reach of paint- 
 ing without the help of the poets. The best historians, 
 and simple relations of facts have been their chief 
 resource; and whenever any of the great painters 
 have been what we may justly call poetical in their 
 compositions, it has always been from their own 
 funds, by the means of which they were enabled to 
 bring together such materials as best suited their 
 powers and their art. For the poetic sul)jects of a 
 painter, and those of a poet, diifer as much in their 
 nature, as do the means by which the sentiment of 
 each is given to the world. 
 
 In a picture there should be no attempt to tell a 
 long and complicated tale : the art of painting is not 
 the vehicle for long stories.
 
 128 • VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 Tbe subjects best suited to the powers of the art 
 are, ist, such as contain a sentiment within them- 
 selves, which may be impressed by character, action, 
 and situation; and are not dependant on foreign aid 
 for an explanation of their greatest interests; 
 
 Or, 2dly, those eminent events which are known to 
 all, yet, in their relation, are unincumbered by trifling 
 minuteness of description, and leave the imagination 
 to range without control ; — Such are all the subjects 
 of Sacred Scripture ; — witness those innumerable 
 beauties, which have been introduced in pictures 
 relative to tlie first years of the life of Christ; 
 
 Or, Sdhj^ those historical facts which are rendered 
 eminent or important either from their consequences, 
 or by characters conspicuous for their virtues or tlieir 
 vices. 
 
 In fine, the painter who would give most force and 
 dignity to his art, whether he take the subject for his 
 picture from the historian or the poet, should consider 
 himself as inventing a kind of Episode to the author. 
 He is not his servant or follower, but his equal : he is 
 to illustrate and amplify all that wliich words cannot 
 reach, and thus to complete the poet's work; he must 
 add the supplement, be the explainer and splendid 
 commentator. 
 
 For there are certain ideas and impressions, which 
 the mind is capable of receiving, and which words are 
 not calculated to give. This is eminently exemplified 
 in matters of natural history and mechanical inven- 
 tions, which can never be explained by words alone, 
 without the help of figures or diagrams added to the 
 descriptions — The figure gives the form, the words its 
 qualities. 
 
 Just in this state of relationship stand the painter 
 and the poet. Neither of them is the inferior or imi- 
 tator of the other, but equal, and distinct in their 
 powers ; and when their force is united in assisting 
 each other, they leave nothing for the imagination to 
 supply.
 
 SECOND LETTER 
 
 FROM 
 
 A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. 
 
 The reader may recollect, in an early part of these 
 papers, a short address from an unfortunate Artist, 
 whose memoirs form the subject of the following letter. 
 Although I will not take on me to say how far it may 
 prove entertaining to my readers in general, I am in 
 hopes that, with some of them, it may have a moral 
 tendency, by pointing out the pitiable consequences of 
 misapplied industry in those who, either from youthful 
 conceit, the fond partiality of parents, or the incon- 
 siderate flattery of friends, have been led on, step by 
 step, to espouse a profession for which nature never 
 designed them, and for which they have forfeited 
 nearly all the blessings that life has to bestow, and 
 embraced, in their stead, poverty and contempt; when 
 the same industry and the same moderate talents, 
 which failed in the pursuit of celebrity, would have 
 been their security in a more ordinary track, and 
 might have brought them every requisite to com- 
 petency and comfort. 
 
 From other's harms learn to bewai'e, 
 And you shall do full well. 
 
 Gallant Lady's Fall.
 
 130 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 I CONCLUDE you* are well informed by your scien- 
 tific mind and professional knowledge, that all things 
 seen in perspective make those parts appear the 
 largest which approach nearest to our eye. A similar 
 cifect is produced by the influence of that partiality 
 which every man feels for himself: and although I am 
 well aware that to some I may appear so distant in 
 the horizon that I am almost lost in the vanishing 
 point, yet, in ray own view of the prospect, 1 am not 
 only by very much the largest, but also the most fin- 
 ished figure in the whole extensive circle, and with 
 this prepossession, I can have no doubt that whatever 
 relates to myself or my concerns must be infinitely 
 interesting to you. 
 
 It was my ill fortune to have been born in one of 
 the counties of England the most distant from the 
 metropolis, and this untoward circumstance debarred 
 me from every means of early improvement in my 
 darling study. It would be mere affectation (which I 
 destest) were I not ingenuously to confess that I think 
 I had, from my birth, a genius for painting, which in 
 my own opinion was evidently proved by the early 
 love I showed towards the art, notwithstanding my 
 father, good man, never would give me the least en- 
 couragement in such a notion; for although he was a 
 wise man in many respects, yet it seemed to me that 
 he had too much of the dry philosopher about him, 
 and did not think it consistent with prudence to trust 
 any thing to the risk of fortune or chance, if it were 
 possible to avoid it, and with whatever eagerness I 
 urged my claims to eminence in the art, he still an- 
 swered coldly, insisted on its being a very precarious 
 undertaking, and said that none but such as were by 
 nature blessed with uncommon abilities would succeed 
 in it; adding that he should much rather see me a 
 good honest shoemaker, as that was a safe and sure 
 maintenance, since every body at some time or other 
 must be in want of good shoes, but that nobody at any 
 
 * Originally addressed to the Artist.
 
 II. LETTER FROM A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. 131 
 
 time would be in want of bad pictures. All this 
 pithy advice sounded in my ears little better than 
 folly or ignorance It was still a fixed thing in my 
 own mind that Iliad a genius, and drawing was my 
 only delight, which he called idling; indeed it might 
 to him have that appearance, for I must honestly con- 
 fess that I always felt an aversion to every thing 
 which was given me to do as a task, and instead of 
 trying to write a good round hand, or to cast up a 
 sum in arithmetic, I generally spent the time in 
 scrawling figures and lanscapes on my copy-book. 
 Whenever a strolling painter came into the town, I 
 was sure to be his constant follower, greatly to the 
 displeasure of my father, who generally checked my 
 ardour by dryly saying, ^^ Hold! hold! this intimacy 
 will end in his borrowing money of me, and then we 
 must take the debt out in pictures, or get nothing, 
 which is the same thing." You may conceive how all 
 this sounded in my ears. — That genius should be 
 thus treated! — All my friends and acquaintance per- 
 severed in their opinion of my wonderful talents, and 
 although my father would not take their word, I did. 
 I therefore grew impatient, and determined to take the 
 first opportunity of quitting his house, whether with or 
 without his consent, being fully convinced that I 
 should make my name illustrious in the art. Accord- 
 ingly on a fine May morning I set out for London, 
 filled with all the enthusiasm of youth, and elated 
 with my ideal prospects of future success. 
 
 As I approached the great city, which I had never 
 seen, it seemed to me that I trod on the clouds, and 
 was at the entrance of Paradise; however, when in 
 Xondon, I had powerful competitors to encounter, and 
 I found rayselt in the state of the harper in the fable, 
 who, after having been the wonder of his native town, 
 was astonished at being hissed off the London stage. 
 Nevertheless, 1 persisted undismayed, and now re- 
 solved to become a portrait-painter. 
 
 But here also I soon found a considerable differ 
 ence ia the face of the world towards me : At my
 
 133 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 fathers house, wliere I had never offered my works 
 for sale, I had been used to have the most excessive 
 praises bestowed on my performances, for that cost the 
 doners nothing; but now, as I was to be paid for 
 them, the case was materially altered, since all who 
 came had a right to speak their mind, and to examine 
 sharply whetiier they had got an equivalent for their 
 money. I took care always to make my likenesses 
 uncommonly strong, — they sometimes perhaps bor- 
 dered a little on caricatura, which occasioned my 
 being often told they were not handsome enough ; and 
 not unfrequently even the likeness was disputed, and 
 all that I could say in my own behalf went for 
 nothing : it was only lost labour for me to assert that 
 it was impossible for resemblances to be stronger, 
 even if Raffaelle himself had drawn them ; no one 
 would take my word, and I was obliged to submit 
 patiently to have it proved by a very severe, and as I 
 thought, a very unjust trial, as it was carried on be- 
 fore a numerous jury, of whom many were certainly 
 not my Peers, and yet 1 was not allowed the power of 
 challenging a single one amongst them. The portrait 
 I had drawn was to stand the test of being known and 
 approved of, not only by the employer, but also by a 
 long train of sycophant followers ; to wit, ignorant 
 affected ladies' maids, humble, flattering, dependant 
 cousins, nursery- maids both wet and dry, new born 
 babes and favourite dogs ; and if all these did not give 
 a verdict in my favour, my work was left upon my 
 hands, and my employers became my inveterate 
 enemies, with as much rage against me as if I had 
 made their own persons as hideous as they said I had 
 made their pictures : indeed they told me I had given, 
 it under my hand that they were so. 
 
 I now despaired of succeeding in this line, and 
 began to grow weary of my life ; yet something was to 
 be done for a livelihood. I therefore looked about, in 
 hopes of hitting on some new invention, by which I 
 might yet captivate the world : but this was a diflBcult 
 matter; for every thing I could think of appeared to
 
 il. LETTER FROM A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. 133 
 
 have been done already. At one time I thought of 
 painting with my toes instead of my fingers, as such 
 an essay at a striking novelty would have been a sure 
 means of bringing all London at my feet, and my 
 heart leaped for joy when the thought came first into 
 my head. I reflected with delight that I was so fortu- 
 nate as to be in that country and in that very city, so 
 eminently known above all others in the world for 
 their liberal and splendid encouragement of quacke- 
 ries (»f every species, and my elated heart made me 
 look down with contempt on all the other schemes of 
 making pictures, whether in silks, in worsted, in wool, 
 with bits of coloured rags, marble dust, sand, or a hot 
 poker. These had passed their day and were for- 
 gotten, having been pushed from their places to make 
 way for newer wonders. But tiiere was one sorrowful 
 obstacle to the completion of my scheme, which was, 
 that some little time was requisite for acquiring the 
 proper practice; though I knew a very moderate 
 degree would have been sufficient to satisfy the eager 
 curiosity of an idle multitude, glad to catch at any 
 means by whicJi they may get rid of themselves and a 
 tedious hour: but as I was actually without either 
 money or credit, I had great apprehensions that I 
 should have run the hazard of being starved in my 
 novitiate, and this fear alone made me give up the 
 scheme altogether, to my no small mortification. 
 
 My next determination was to become the inventor 
 of the Venetian ground, on board and on canvas, by 
 which means every painter should be enabled to paint 
 exactly like Titian ; and thus, like most other teachers, 
 I boldly proposed to point out that road to others, 
 which I had not been able to find myself. 
 
 This lucky hit for a time proved very successful, 
 and I was employed to prepare canvas for some of the 
 high painters in town ^ but fortune soon left me again 
 in tlie lurch, for in a short space of time some of the 
 pictures which had been painted on my grounds be- 
 caaie exceedingly cracked, and others fell piecemeal 
 from the canvas 5 so that I have been informed, that the 
 
 3 p
 
 i31 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 house-inaids used to bcslow cur;«es on the painter for 
 dirtying the rooms with his dropjjin^ pictures. But 
 tliat which gave tlie finishing blow to my credit in 
 this line of Art, was an accident that happened to a 
 portrait which had l)cen painted by a very celebrated 
 artist on one of my primed grounds. It was hung 
 over the chimney of a very close warm room, and 
 from the great heat, the ground became soft to such a 
 degree, tliat the eye floated down t4ie face as low as 
 the mouth ; and really I must own that it quite 
 spoiled the likeness.* 
 
 I next professed myself a picture-cleaner, having 
 an invaluable nostrum for this purpose, which was im- 
 parted to me by a friend. But having had a picture by 
 Vandyke, of some value, intrusted to my care, I un- 
 fortunately, from ignorance in the method of using my 
 nostrum, nearly rubbed it out, and lost the skin from 
 the tops of my fingers into the bargain. This hurt my 
 character so mucii, that I could not get any one to 
 trust me with another job, for I had neither the wit 
 nor the knavery to paint over again those parts which 
 I had cleaned away, as then I should have stood a 
 good chance of delighting my employer, and making 
 him think the picture much better than ever it had 
 been; but, when I showed him the canvas quite bare, 
 he dismissed me with rage. 
 
 I was now driven to such streigljts, that the Arch- 
 fiend, who they say, never sleeps, took the opportunity 
 of my distress to tempt me to become a dealer in 
 pictures; but, thank Heaven, I was able to resist him, 
 for I had always a spirit far above such a traffic, and 
 I am happy in this place to declare, that, in all the 
 melancholy hours of my frequent distress from cold 
 and hunger, even when driven from my lodging and 
 my bed to the street and a bulk, (not being able to pay 
 my rent,) I have never yielded to the temptation; but 
 although guilty of many sins, I have kept my hands 
 
 * A safer method of preparing grounds and suitable colours, 
 has lately been rewarded by the Society of Arts with a premium 
 of twenty guineas, and their silver medal.
 
 II. LETTER FROM A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. 135 
 
 clean from that business, and I hope they will so 
 remain to my life's end, and be laid unspotted in my 
 grave, for I am a true born Englishman, and a lover 
 of my country. But I am apt to think that Satan, 
 because he could not prevail, has owed me a grudge 
 ever since, and, in consequence, has reduced me to 
 such a state of misery, Ihat I was glad to catch at a 
 shadow, and have now taken to drawing profiles by 
 lamp-light, and cutting them out in paper and blacking 
 them over with ink or black-ball; and by these means 
 at present I pick up a precarious liveliiiood. But, after 
 all, my good father's words come frequently to ray mind, 
 when he used to say, that all the world at times want 
 shoes; which is precisely my own case at this present 
 moment, and for which reason I am not able to come 
 out of doors, especially in wet weather. Dear Mr. 
 Artist, if you will be so good as to lend me a two- 
 pound note, on my honor as a painter, and therefore 
 a gentleman (although without shoes,) I will honest- 
 ly pay you again from the profits of the very first 
 shadows I can catch. 
 
 1 shall not disclose my name, (for indeed I have, 
 from necessity, been obliged to adopt so many, tliat I 
 now scarcely know which was the original one,) but 
 shall sign myself, as before, by that which I know is 
 my right, 
 
 Your's, &c., &c., 
 
 A Disappointed Genius.
 
 ON THE 
 
 IMITATION OF THE STAGE 
 
 IN PAINTING. 
 
 Quo spectanda modo, quo sensu ? 
 
 In a former paper it has been my endeavour to 
 point out some of the evil consequences that might 
 ensue to the Student in Painting, from his not having 
 a proper conception how highly important it is to him, 
 that he should look up to nature as the great arche- 
 type and the source of all truth. In that paper I 
 dwelt chiefly on the danger of his being led away by 
 Poetry: I shall now finish my subject by a few ob- 
 servations also on the hazard of his imitating the 
 Stage. 
 
 Young minds, from their inexperience, are prone to 
 be captivated with all such appearances as are most 
 palpable to the senses, and it requires time and nice 
 observation to enable them to select and discriminate 
 those higher beauties, which the more mature mind, 
 expects and demands from any work of Art that 
 attempts to gain its approbation. 
 
 The young Student in Painting, perhaps, may 
 view with astonishment and delight the expression of 
 the passions on the Stage, and think this^^ppy even
 
 138 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 preferable to the original in Nature itself, because it is 
 more obtrusive and glaring, and he may, therefore, 
 conceive it needless to seek for better models as ex- 
 amples. 
 
 It is true that Ihe Stage offers him an opportunity 
 of seeing the representations of awful situations, 
 which he may never obtain a sight of in nature. But 
 it behoves him to examine carefully whether this be a 
 true portrait of nature, or not ; as well as to consider 
 also the great distinction which exists, of necessity, 
 between a theatrical representation and a picture : 
 there certainly are some important and fundamental 
 differences; for notwithstanding that they are, each of 
 them, imitations of nature, yet they are shewn under 
 very different circumstances. 
 
 It is to be remembered that the Painter can repre- 
 sent only one moment of time, yet the picture may 
 remain long before your eye, and thus enable you to 
 investigate its merits or defects with the most critical 
 exactness : therefore the highest delicacies of expres- 
 sion may be given without the least risk of the most 
 subtile beauties being overlooked. He has also an un- 
 limited power over the persons of his drama, so as 
 to suit them to the characters they represent, in every 
 requisite. But the actor, not having these advantages, 
 must supply the deficiency by violent and decided 
 gestures, actions, and expressions of the countenance, 
 such as may be seen and understood at all distances, 
 and by all the various capacities that compose his 
 audience; and, in as much as his voice is raised above 
 all common modes of speaking, so his expression of 
 tlie passions and their actions, may be carried beyond 
 all common modes of expression or action, and this 
 may be at times an excuse for his out-stepping the 
 modesty of Nature, as Shakspeare terms it, which he 
 sometimes does. But the Painter has no such motives 
 to check his highest attempts at refinement; his work 
 is to remain long for examination, and for the dis- 
 covery of all those excellencies which may be shewn 
 ia it of expression, character, situation, and action.
 
 IMITATION OF THE STAGE IN PAINTING. 13<J 
 
 together with all those effects of refined and deep 
 observation on nature, which are characteristic marks 
 in the works of the greatest masters of the art. 
 
 These refinements, if the Actor could exhibit them, 
 would be of too delicate a nature to be discerned under 
 the circumstances with which representations on the 
 Stage are seen; and for this reason they would be in 
 danger of appearing insipid, and his character under- 
 acted. The ancients seemed so sensible of this, that 
 to avoid the error here mentioned^ tliey are said to 
 have run into the contrary extreme, if it be true, as 
 some of the learned antiquarians suppose, that tlieir 
 stage representations were performed with actions the 
 most violent^ the expressions of the passions in the 
 face supplied by the distortions of a mask, and the 
 voice assisted by a species of speaking-trumpet, or 
 some such artifice. By an exhibition like this, the 
 Painter, to be sure, would be in no danger of being 
 led astray, for here was nothing of nature to inform 
 or to allure him ; yet I cannot but repeat in tliis place 
 the apprehension I have before expressed, respecting 
 the hazard which attends on a bigoted and indiscrimi- 
 nate admiration of any model to be found in the circle 
 of art: for, although the Painter might not be in 
 danger of being led away by a scene which offered to 
 his view so awkward a spectacle as that above de- 
 scribed, yet it is to be observed, that this rude, im- 
 mense yet despicable. Stage was destined to exhibit 
 scenes conceived by men endowed with powers of the 
 first magnitude, illustrious geniuses reduced to the 
 necessity of conforming their w orks to the barrenness 
 of their theatrical apparatus; and that, notwithstand- 
 ing they were unable to display the full extent of 
 their powers in this limited scenery, still the dazzling 
 splendour of their invention has so blinded succeed- 
 ing critics, that those bigoted devotees, unable in the 
 heat of their admiration to distinguish that which was 
 praiseworthy from that which was defective, have mis- 
 taken those accidental accommodations contrived by 
 the poets to adapt their works to the scanty means of
 
 140 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 stage eifect, and construed them into beauties, have 
 boldly drawn rules from the whole together, and 
 delivered them down to posterity as laws, which pro- 
 ceeded from infallible guides, for all succeeding 
 dramatists, and as excellence fit for everlasting imita- 
 tion. This instance alone may serve as an awful ex- 
 ample to shew how careful we ought to be, both as 
 professors and critics, that, whilst we admire, we 
 should be very circumspect to make the just distinc- 
 tion and separation between that which is the proper 
 object of our admiration, and that which is its acciden- 
 tal accompaniment, and w hich may be, and often is, a 
 drawback on its merit. This, however, is not so easy 
 a task as at first it seems, and many a young student 
 has been ruined and made a mannerist from the want 
 of this very power of discrimination, since we have 
 seen that the splendour of certain excellences often so 
 deludes the judgment, that the whole mass is received 
 together as the entire model of perfection. How fre- 
 quently do we hear the young practitioner in painting 
 bestow an equal praise on the w ork of a great master 
 for that which he has not done, as for that which he 
 has, and how frequently is he apt to think himself 
 thereby excused in not doing well those things which 
 he does not find adequately accomplished in the 
 work, which is the object of his study ! Instances of a 
 similar kind, as I have before remarked, we find 
 clearly exemplified in those modern dramatic authors, 
 (and some of them not mean ones neither,) w ho, over- 
 come by the captivating genius of the ancient drama- 
 tists, and without taking into consideration the embar- 
 rassed state to which they were reduced by the neces- 
 sities of their Stage, have therefore slavishly imitated 
 all their accidental defects as if they were the great- 
 est beauties. 
 
 It was the apprehension of this dangerous kind of 
 bigotry whicii made Nicolas Poussin say of Pietro da 
 Cortona that he w as born into the world to be the 
 ruin of Art, because the splendour of his beauties 
 eclipsed egregious defects j and of the latter it is that
 
 IMITATION OF THE STAGE IN PAINTING. 14i 
 
 the imitator carries off the largest share, because the 
 excellencies of an original genius, as they are pro- 
 duced by the force of his own nature, are always 
 inimitable. 
 
 Under a similar infatuation, the Painter, in his 
 admiration of the merits of some favourite actor, might 
 blindly take too large a portion of the individual for 
 his model : and we often see instances, even amongst 
 the works of great masters, where they Iiave made a 
 favourite individual, either a mistress or wife, the sole 
 model for their highest efforts towards giving an ex- 
 ample of the most perfect beauty. 
 
 There is a natural bias in mankind, which inclines 
 them to imitate that which they admire, and is the 
 principal cause that we so often have occasion to 
 remark in Poets, Players, and Painters, &c. a pro- 
 pensity towards copying, or being of the scliool, as I 
 may say, of some native genius of each class: but this 
 is an ill omen, a dangerous state; because, in the end, 
 it will produce what we call a mannerist. If this 
 practice be a means to strengthen the weak, it Will 
 surely enfeeble the strong, and is not the way to be 
 on a par in value with the object of their admiration. 
 
 Those favourites of Nature, whom she has endowed 
 with superior talents, display an essence in all their 
 efforts, which is able to bid defiance to imitation, and 
 keeps it ever at a humble distance ; we can copy only 
 their grossness, the obvious quality, but none of that 
 indescribable zest which gives the whole its value and 
 power to delight. 
 
 The mimic of genius is like the monkey to tlia 
 man ; there is a rude superficial similitude, l)ut the 
 action is without its proper motive or its use : although 
 its general effect to the eye may be something alike, 
 yet the cause is totally different, which renders it 
 useless; you may imitate the external action and 
 manners of a wise man, but that is neither being wise, 
 nor t!ie way to become so. 
 
 A splendid display of high art is so captivating, 
 that, jit (lie same time that it is a lesson, it is but too 
 
 3 Q
 
 1,4a VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 apt also to delude the unwary; and it becomes a diffi- 
 culty that demands the utmost exertion of judgment, 
 to disentangle and separate the part, which might be 
 of service, from that whicli might be prejudicial as an 
 example. We have seen this error of dehision demon- 
 strated in most eminent instances, in what we may call 
 the late school of French painters, who, evidently, 
 instead of looking at nature as their guide, assisted 
 themselves almost entirely from the poets and the 
 stage, which has given lo all their historical paintings 
 of that period the exact air of a scene in an opera. 
 Enamoured by the artificial spectacle, which seemed 
 a picture already done to their hands, they believed 
 they had thus a much more easy means by which to 
 make the arrangement of their pictures, than by 
 searching out and selecting the refined and subtile 
 beauties in the stores of nature : they thus took that 
 which was most obvious to them and came first to 
 liand, not giving themselves the trouble to examine 
 into the difterence between this fabricated mass and 
 nature unadorned, or to investigate the reason why an 
 opera has such charms ; — that it was solely from its 
 being a combination of the most exquisite art, which 
 a little consideration would have been sufficient to 
 have informed them of, had they not been too idle to 
 examine or analyse it, and to convince themselves 
 that it is too far removed from nature to answer the 
 painter's purpose. 
 
 The remark is obvious to all, that, when you see 
 an opera performed, your whole attention is taken up 
 by the excellence of the composition of the music, and 
 of its various performers. The circumstances of the 
 Drama, or the fate of the personages it represents, 
 engage but a very small part of your interest, nor is it 
 designed that they should attract a greater: the little 
 of nature which is there displayed, is moulded to 
 serve a particular purpose, and therefore will neither 
 create nor gain your sympathy ; your whole attention 
 is taken up in admiration and pleasure in the contem- 
 plation of fine art. I have already remarked, that it
 
 IMITATION OF THE STAGE IN PAINTING 143 
 
 is considerably the same iti poetry, which is high art 
 engrafted on the stem of nature; but the art still pre- 
 dominates, and is so intended ; and I might add, that 
 an equal caution may be applied in regard to Painting, 
 when proposed as the example for any other art; but 
 such a remark is here unnecessary. 
 
 As a general rule it may be remarked, that, by as 
 much as you see the artifice obtrude or prevail^ by so 
 much it diminishes that iaterest which ought to be tiie 
 first and predominating quality of every work wliicli 
 aspires to be a representation of fine nature. 
 
 It is a well known observatiou, that when you read 
 fine poetry, you think of and admire the genius of the 
 author; but when you read the simple liistory or 
 relation of a fact, you are absorbed and interested by 
 the narration only, and never once think of the relator., 
 because in the first case it is the art which prevails 
 and catches your attention, in the last it is only simple 
 nature which creates the highest interest. The student 
 of painting, therefore, should never suffer his mind, 
 which ought to range at large, to be fettered by any 
 bigoted adoration of another's work; but should con- 
 sider the dignity of the art which he professes, and 
 the extent of its powers, and that all nature is before 
 him and courts his choice. 
 
 Never rest content with the word of another when 
 you can have free access to the fountain of all truth. 
 
 Yet after all that I have said, let me not be misun- 
 derstood. I well know that, to form the mind of an 
 accomplished painter, every possible knowledge would 
 assist; instruction should be received and cherished 
 from whatever quarter it may chance to come, and 
 poetry, painting, and the stage, will each afford their 
 ample lessons when judiciously surveyed, and not 
 held up in our minds above their rank or value. 
 
 It is the characteristic quality of genius to compre- 
 hend much at one view. By means of that quality 
 alone it is that we can justly ascertain the true com- 
 parative worth or importance of things, as the reverse 
 is conspicuously discoverable in persons of narrow
 
 144 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 intellect, who viewing every object with a microscopic 
 eye, see small things great, with a disproportionate 
 effect; and to this cause it is owing that in all the 
 imitative arts, poetry, painting, &c. we so commonly 
 perceive parts only of a work well done, and not of a 
 piece with the rest, nor in harmony with the general 
 effect of tlie work. 
 
 To make an union in the whole together, to give it 
 . the appearance of a work done by that presiding 
 power which sees the whole, while executing each 
 particular part, is the grand excellence and difficulty 
 of art. AVhen this can be accomplished, it proves 
 beyond all doubt the mind of genius and the master's 
 hand.
 
 ADVICE 
 
 TO A YOUNG ARTIST. 
 
 It seems to be inherent in the nature of mankind, 
 and more particularly at the period of youth, when 
 we first enter on the busy stage of life, to be possessed 
 with a much higher notion of our own importance, 
 abilities, and claims on fortune, than we find to be 
 justified by subsequent events. And although this 
 presumption may be a powerful incitement to great 
 actions in early life, yet as the truth will be disclosed 
 by degrees, and harsh experience will every day teach 
 us how much less wise, and how mucli less fortunate 
 we are, than vanity had promised and led us to sup- 
 pose, bitter mortification must be the unavoidable con- 
 sequence of such self delusion. 
 
 To prevent the evils incident to those who being 
 deficient in a knowledge of the world, are thus apt to 
 frame their conduct upon mistaken notions both of 
 themselves and human life, such precautions and 
 admonitions should be given to them, and such ex- 
 amples pointed out, as will best supply the place of 
 that experience, which seldom comes to instruct us 
 till it is too late to gain any advantage from its hard- 
 earned lessons. 
 
 None can be taught too early to know what they 
 have to expect, or on what they are to depend. 
 
 Considerations like these induce me to say, that if 
 happiness be the lot of a painter, he will most com- 
 monly find the blessing, like the religious devotee, in 
 the solitary enjoyment of his own thoughts, in the
 
 146 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 delightful reveries of a mind ever teeming with images 
 which play on the fancy in infinite varieties. To im- 
 part these conceptions to tlie world, must be his first 
 aim and highest gratification; and by succeeding, he 
 will transform his lal)our into pleasure. For let if be 
 remembered that he who devotes himself to study, will 
 be obliged to make frequent sacrifices at its altar, and 
 must be prepared to sulier, with patience, both wants 
 and privations. If he cannot command sufficient 
 resolution to meet this arduous slate, it were better for 
 him to leave the Fine tirts to be encountered by those 
 of abler minds and stronger nerves, and not expect 
 (as a late great writer expresses it on another occasion) 
 to be dandled into an artist. Eminence is not to be 
 gained whether you will or no: superiority is not of 
 easy acquisition where all are striving to be the most 
 excellent. 
 
 Few are aware of the hidden cause, which but too 
 often obtrudes its influence to determine their choice 
 of a profession, and still fewer would brook being told 
 that it was idleness, or perhaps vanity alone. 
 
 In all those professions which chiefly attract the 
 gaze of youth, these view at a distance the eminent 
 only, who seem to them to be surrounded by an al- 
 luring and bewitching splendour to which they find 
 that the rich and even the powerful pay homage. For 
 instance, successful poets, painters, players, warriors, 
 captivate the inexperienced and aspiring candidate for 
 fame, and there are few amongst the young, of any 
 spirit, who have not fixed upon one of those favorite 
 objects, as the idol of their emulation, and gaily joined 
 the poet's song, 
 
 «< What shall I do to be for ever known 
 And make the coming age my own ?" 
 
 while the safe, though obscure occupations of commoa 
 life are treated by tliem with scorn : for no suspicion 
 of inability has ever alarmed them with a doubt of 
 success.
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG ARTIST. 14,7 
 
 No whispers of experience have ever informed 
 theni of the toils and difficulties which must be en- 
 countered, or the many chances that must concur to 
 produce an instance of distinguished superiority: their 
 notice has been attracted by those alone who have 
 gained the prize; not aware of the thousands that 
 have perished in the attempt and are forgotten; nor 
 suspecting that as they climb the mountains there 
 will open to their view still higher mountains to be 
 climbed. 
 
 There are certain employments in some manu- 
 factures so baleful to the human species, that the laws 
 of England, framed with equal wisdom and compas- 
 sion, have prohibited the proprietors from enticing 
 persons into the pernicious work ; and none but such 
 as voluntarily oifer themselves can be employed in 
 them. The same restricting rule would be advantage- 
 ous in respect to the arts ; none should, by flattery, 
 when young, be deluded by weak or ill judging pat- 
 rons to undertake that in which they are probably not 
 qualified by nature to succeed. It would be much 
 wiser to treat them as a kind father acted by his son, 
 when he expressed an eager desire to devote himself 
 to the service of the navy, the result, perhaps of idle- 
 ness, accident, or whims, and with a total, ignorance 
 of the kind of life which he fixed upon as the object of 
 his choice. The father complied with his request, but 
 at the same time gave a strict injunction to the com- 
 manding officer, not to screen him from any, even the 
 hardest duties of his profession; as by this means he 
 would gain experience before it was too late for his 
 profit; and should his mind, after the trial, continue 
 unchanged, his choice would be then proved to be an 
 impulse of nature, and he would be likely to do 
 much honor to himself and his profession. Thus in 
 the arts (indeed in every department,) he who knows 
 the worst at first, and still persists to combat all the 
 difficulties in his way, almost insures success: as it 
 proves in him the possession of strength of that raind, 
 which is an indispensable requisite towards the attain-
 
 1^8 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 ment of excellence. It is the true spirit of emulation 
 which inspires him. He will not content himself with the 
 little ambition of surpassing his contemporaries only, 
 but feels it a duty to survey the works of all men in all 
 ages and in all countries : nor will he deign to con- 
 gratulate himself while he is conscious that any man 
 before him has accomplished (hat in which he has 
 been foiled, hut will perceive himself in danger of 
 incurring the shame and disgrace of one who has 
 arrogantly engaged to perform a feat beyond his 
 powers. He feels that, being originally at liberty, he 
 might have avoided the contest; but having made his 
 election, he is no longer free but must succeed, or 
 suffer the consequences of a presumptuous and defeat- 
 ed pretension. 
 
 I must remark, that in the performance of .all those 
 works, which are mere superfluities in life, and not 
 absolutely necessary to the well being of mankind, 
 and which, if not well done, need not be done at all. 
 a mediocrity of performance will have no place, will 
 never be called for: and the pitiable object, who fails 
 in the arduous enterprize, Avill soon find that the little 
 ability which he possessed, will of course be dimi- 
 nished, because his thoughts must necessarily be 
 employed, not on his art, but on petty contrivances, to 
 procure the means of a precarious maintenance; and 
 thus he skulks through life by shifts and expedients, 
 in want and discredit. Innumerable examples have 
 proved the profession of a painter to be difficult of 
 attainment, and uncertain in the event, even when 
 accompanied with excellence, and that hundreds must 
 attempt for one to be prosperous; therefore it ought to 
 'be clearly ascertained, that its votaries and followers 
 are real lovers of the study, for its own sake, before 
 they are permitted to espouse it for life: and such 
 prognostics should be shewn as may best presage suc- 
 cess in the adventure. Yet, on the other hand, we 
 should, with jealousy, beware of that presumptuous 
 confidence, which would be the greatest hindrance to 
 all improvement, by closing up the mind in its self-
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG ARTIST. 149 
 
 sufficiency, and putting a stop to all inquiry, Tijy re- 
 ducing it to rest on its own fancied perfection. 
 
 No man can have too little dependance on what he 
 possesses, nor too much on his ability of acquirement. 
 
 He who is determined to become a great painter, 
 should consider himself as ever learning, continually 
 in progress, but yet as one, before whose persevering 
 powers all difficulties must give way; as by this 
 laudable presumption, or rather persuasion of his 
 mind, he will be enabled to accomplish that, which 
 he would otherwise have shrunk from as impossible 
 to be done. He must strongly feel the shame of not 
 being able to conquer that, which he knows men, like 
 himself, have conquered. He should consider failure 
 in his attempt, as worse than death itself, and, when 
 he has once entered on his career, should allow him- 
 self no hope of retreat. 
 
 A singular circumstance occurs to my mind, which 
 shows what resolution like this may accomplish. A 
 small party of men determined to surprize and capture 
 the strong fortress of Panama, and to prevent alarm 
 being given in the attack, they embarked together ia 
 one small boat, encountering all the dangers of a dark 
 and stormy night. Before they got on shore, or made 
 good their landing, it was agreed among them, that 
 the man who last left the boat, should stave a hole in 
 its bottom : this done, and hope of retreat being de- 
 stroyed, to conquer or to die, was their only choice: 
 then clambering up a steep precipice, before consid- 
 ered as the side on which the fortress was inaccessi- 
 ble, they reached the summit, seized the sentinels by 
 surprize, and soon possessed themselves of the panic- 
 struck garrison, by whom no resistance was attempted. 
 Thus, by determination and resolution, the place was 
 taken without a blow, although well furnished with 
 every requisite for defence and support; and this 
 heroic act was accomplished by the sole prowess of 
 about twelve determined men. Hence, we see, that no 
 one can make a just estimate of his powers, till he is 
 urged, by imperious necessity, to bring them to the 
 
 S R
 
 150 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 proof. He takes a double chance to conquer, who sets 
 out with a determination not to be conquered. There 
 arc heroes in the closet as well as in the field. That 
 man is a hero, whatever may be his department in life, 
 who defies all obstructions to accomplish a laudable 
 purpose, and ultimately overcomes them. Heroism 
 may as clearly be displayed in the pursuit o; the arts, 
 of science, and philosophy, as in the instances of 
 statesmen, warriors, or martyrs. Heroism is proved 
 by unabating ardour, and firm adherence to the end 
 proposed : it leaves nothing unattempted, which curi- 
 osity, research, labour, or courage may acquire. How 
 did Raifaelle, iiaving never executed a work of any 
 consequence or magnitude, boldly enter Ihe Vatican, 
 and at once undertake to encounter the highest diffi- 
 culties of the art ! Thus, alone, he took the lion by the 
 beard. 
 
 Yet, it must be observed, that with all those quali- 
 ties which a painter must possess, in order to eD<?ble 
 him to surmount every difficulty of his arduous under- 
 taking, and to support himself under all the variety of 
 checks, disappointments, and disasters in life, it is 
 requisite that he should, in addition to all these, have 
 what seenis almost incompatible with them, tliat is, a 
 mind and heart of the most susceptible nature. The 
 painter's imagination should act with more than usual 
 power. His hopes, his fears, his joys, his mortifica- 
 tions, must be felt with double force. He should have 
 such a tenderness of sensibility, as to receive and feel 
 every impression on his mind, with all the energy of 
 poetic fire; for who can paint what he never felt? 
 
 How is it possible, that works which display ideas, 
 exalted or sublime, should attract the attention of 
 minds, coarse, trifling or vulgar? The mind acts like 
 a magnet, when thrown amidst a quantity of mixed 
 and various matter; it attracts and attaches itself to 
 that alone, which is similar to its own nature. How 
 often do we see this exemplified in our own art, by 
 those affected connoisseurs of puny intellect, who are 
 Tnore amused, more delighted, with a highly laboured
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG ARTIST. igi 
 
 picture of a bunch of flowers, in which insects and 
 drops of water are represented, than with tlie sub- 
 limest subjects that adorn the Vatican? And if it can 
 be supposed, that such connoisseurs have any real 
 attachment to the art, they will clearly discover, by 
 their selection of pictures, the degree of their intel- 
 lect, their taste and also their disposition. 
 
 The prevailing character operates more or less in 
 every action of the man, and the really great mind 
 will be shown even from the minutest object of its 
 attention. Of this nature is that instance of Achilles 
 when, in his disguise amongst the women, he could 
 not but act like himself, and out of all the toys and 
 trinkets which were exposed before him, was dis. 
 covered by fixing his choice on a sword. 
 
 In the same manner, in respect to the arts, exalted 
 minds are known and displayed by tbe reverence they 
 pay to all those works which tend to dignify our 
 species, or elevate our idea of its rank, value, and 
 importance; while they receive little or no pleasure 
 from those productions which familiarize or degrade 
 it; and consider them only as the pastimes of children^, 
 or feats of mechanical dexterity. 
 
 In all the inferior branches of the art, the highest 
 finishing, as it is called, constitutes their highest 
 value; and in this place I wish to make an observation 
 on the article of finishing, as nothing, perhaps, demon- 
 strates more clearly the strength or weakness of the 
 mind of the painter and his admirers. Those may be 
 said to finish the highest, who in their work imitate the 
 characteristic and interesting qualities, and properties 
 only, of the object they mean to represent; and not 
 those who render their works with infinite pains and 
 labours, but at last without feeling, energy, or charac- 
 ter. In judging of this matter, the vulgar commit one 
 of their grossest mistakes, in not making any distinc- 
 tion between judicious finishing, and mere labour : or 
 rather in giving preference to the latter; thus often 
 esteeming the worst picture more than the best. 
 Nothing is more common than to hear such judges say
 
 i5Z VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 that the works of Deoner and Gerard Dow, are more 
 finished than those by Titian or Vandyke. 
 
 Thus far I have endeavoured to describe the com- 
 bination of these apparently opposite qualities, which 
 I apprehend are required to make a great painter; 
 bold and firm without arrogance, or conceit; humble 
 yet powerful ; diligent yet energetic ; laborious but 
 not insipid. He endeavours to convey his sentiments 
 to the heart by his earnest exertions to give truth of 
 character, beauty, simplicity, and grandeur, by purity 
 of just feeling, and without self applause, vanity, 
 aflfectation, or pretension to that enthusiasm which he 
 does not feel : unlike the aims of such painters as 
 Vasari, Goltzius, Sprangher, Martin Hemskerck, 
 &c., who appear to have been thinking much more 
 upon themselves than upon their work, and who ex- 
 pected to become its rivals for our astonishment and 
 admiration. It is the happiness of this class to receive 
 abundantly their own applause, and that applause 
 alone : whilst, on the contrary, Titian, Holbein, 
 Corregio, and Raffaelle painted from the heart. It is 
 by such works only, that the heart is captured : and it 
 is surely not presumptuous to say, that there remains 
 but little doubt, that, the cultivating and encouraging 
 the higher branches of painting, in which they excell- 
 ed, it would become as eflPectual means as any we are 
 acquainted with, to humanize the mind; for art so con- 
 ducted draws the attention of the idol from mischief, 
 aifords wholesome relaxati«>n to the busy, instructs the 
 ignorant, and displays examples of splendid virtue 
 which may direct ambition the way in peaceful paths 
 to fame and immortality.
 
 LIST 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HISTORICAL AND FANCY SUBJECTS, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH SOME OF THE 
 
 MOST ILLUSTRIOUS 
 
 AND 
 
 EMINENT PORTRAITS, 
 
 EXECUTED BY 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 
 
 Subjects. Possessors. Prices. Engravers, 
 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 Angel contemplating 1 
 
 the Cross, bequeath- v Duke of Portland 
 ed to - - J 
 
 Ascension 
 
 Calling of Samuel - Duke of Rutland 100 Dean, 1788 
 Do. do. - Duke of Dorset 50J.R. Smith, 178S 
 Do. do. - Earl of Darnley 75 Delatre, 1784 
 
 Do. do. - C. Long, Esq. C. Knight, 1792 
 
 Cornelia&herChildren > P Wilkin^: 17QI 
 
 (Lady Cockburn) S ' l>. Wilfcins,l/yi 
 
 ^Macbeth ''''' '" I ^'- ^^3^^^" 100« 'Th^^ 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort" ^ ^^Z^tl" ^'^ ^^0 [ ^^,,,, 
 DionysiustheAreopagite - - Jenner, 1776
 
 15^ 
 
 LIST OF PAINTINGS 
 
 Subjects, Possessors. Prices. Engravers. 
 
 (Guineas.) 
 Death of Dido : for Mr. > m, . rr-i i «^>/^ r^ 
 
 Brvant - k Marchs. Thomond 200 Grozer 
 
 Holy Family: 500/. to? T j i- j- -r^rvixT c^t. -.-rr^r, 
 
 Macklin, sold to ( ^""'^ ^^^^^^"^ '^^ W- Sharp, 1792 
 
 Hercules strangling 5 E,„__ggg of Russia 1500 S "o^ges, 
 the Serpents 5 '^'"P'^^^^ ^^ *^"ssia I5uu j ^-^^,^g^ 
 
 InfantHerculesinCradleEarl Fitzwilliam 150 Do. do. 1793 
 Infant Moses in the | ^^^^^ ^^ ^eeds 125 S i* I^,^?"' 
 Bulrushes - J ^86,1791 
 
 Duke of Rutland 100 Smith, 1775 
 C Marchi & 
 I Sharp, 1783 
 
 Duke of Rutland 1200 Earlom 
 
 Infant Jupiter 
 King Lear 
 
 Nativity: for New 
 College window 
 
 St. John : for New 
 College window 
 Do. ° - - 
 
 St. Michael slaying the "1 
 Dragon: Copy from t 
 Guido J 
 
 School of Athens, from > 
 Raffaelle: Copy j 
 Do. travestied : now 
 at Straffan, in Ire- 
 land 
 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 1200 
 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 —Willet, Esq. 150 Grozer, 1784 
 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 Do. 
 
 1 
 
 J. Henry, Esq. 
 
 L^gohno and children 7 n ^ e r\ l 
 *? , 1 „ r» c Duke ot Dorset 
 
 in the Dungeon 5 
 
 Virgin and Child: left > T t> • x t? 
 mifinished - ^ J. Bannister, Esq. 
 
 Do. do. Earl of Egremont 
 
 Young Hannibal, a boy ") 
 
 in armour - ^ ' 
 
 400 Dixon 
 65 
 
 C. Townley, 1792 
 
 Ariadne - - \V. Locke, Esq. 
 
 Bacchante, portrait ot > t^ i ^ r^ 
 Mad.Baccelli ^ Duke of Dorset 
 
 Do. - - Sir W. Hamilton 
 
 Bacchus, portrait of 7 t j n i ^ 
 Master Herbert J ^""^^ Dorchester 
 
 Beggar Boy, with Chilti P rk 1 fr^ 
 
 & Cabbage-nets ( ^"''^ o^ Dorset - 
 The Bird . . 
 
 Boj laughing — Bromwell, Esq. 50 
 
 35 Doughty, 1779 
 J. R. Smith, 1784 
 50 Do. do. 
 75 Smith, 1776 
 
 Hodges 
 J. Dean
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 155 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 Boy with a dog 
 Do. in a Turkish dress 
 Do. with drawing in 
 
 his Hand 
 Do. with Portfolio 
 Do. praying: since 
 
 sent to France 
 Do. eating Grapes 
 Do. reading 
 Boy's School : heads of 
 two Master Gawlers 
 Captive: has been cal- ? 
 led Cartouche, &c. $ 
 Captain of Banditti 
 Careful Sliepherdess 
 Cardinal Virtues, and"^ 
 
 four others : for the 1**1,111 j 
 
 New College Win- ;>Maixhs. Thomond 
 
 J 
 
 Prices. Engravers. 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 - Dean 
 
 - Do. 1778 
 
 Duke of Dorset 
 Earl of Warwick 
 > Mr. Chamier 
 
 Sir H. Engletield 
 
 Rev. W. Long 
 J. Crewe, Esq. 
 
 50 
 
 50 
 
 50 
 
 Spilsbury 
 55 Hodges 
 
 Smith, 1788 
 
 g^C Smith, 1777: 
 
 l & Dean 
 35 
 Eliz.Judkins,1775 
 
 Facius, 1781 
 
 J. Watsoix 
 
 Facius, 1781 
 
 S. Rogers, Esq. 
 Earl of Aylesford 
 
 > Duke of Dorset 
 
 dow 
 Cselia (Mrs. Collyer) 
 lamenting her Sparrow 
 Charity: for New Col- 
 lege window 
 Circe 
 
 Children in the Wood 
 Child with Angels 
 Child sleeping 
 
 Do. do. 
 Comic Muse (Mrs. 
 
 Abingdon) 
 Cleopatra dissolving 
 
 the Pearl (Kitty 
 
 Fisher) 
 Continence of Scipio 
 Conway Castle, a 
 
 Landscape 
 Covent Garden Cupid 
 Cottagers, from Thorn 
 
 son, for Macklin 
 
 Gallery 
 Count La Lippe: portrait H. R. H. Prince Regent 
 
 Master Crewe as Ken-7 T n v c; vu i-r-ti 
 
 y J. Crewe, Esq. Smith, 17/6 
 
 } 
 
 
 Sir C. Bunbury 35 
 
 Lord Palmerstone 50 J. Watson, 177i2 
 
 Duke of Leeds 
 
 Doughty, 1780 
 
 Sherwln 
 
 Fisher 
 
 W. Birch, 1790 
 Dean, 1779 
 
 Bartolozzi, 1784 
 
 Lord Borin^don 
 
 vj VIII. 
 Cupid and Psyche 
 (Miss Greville and 
 brother) 
 Do. do. 
 
 } 
 
 C. Long, Esq. 
 S. Rogers, Esq. 
 
 250 Mac Ardell, 1762
 
 156 
 
 LIST OF PAINTINGS 
 
 Subjects. 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 Duke of Leeds 
 
 Cupid in the Clouds 
 Cupid sleeping 
 Cvmon and Iphigenia:"^ 
 
 "the last fancy piece I ^archs. Thomond 
 
 ever executed by bir [ 
 
 Joshua J 
 
 Diana (Lady Napier) 
 
 Do. (Duchess of 
 
 Manchester) 
 Edwin: from Beattie's 
 
 Minstrel 
 Faith: for New College 
 
 window 
 Family of the Duke of 
 
 Marlborough 
 Fortitude: for New 
 
 College window 
 Fortune teller (Lord 
 
 and Lady Spencer) 
 Garrick between Trag-") 
 
 edy and Comedy : | 
 
 sold to J. J. Anger- ^Earl of Halifax 
 
 stein, Esq. for 250 j 
 
 guineas J 
 
 Garrick, as Kitely 
 Mr. and Mrs. Garrick"^ 
 
 sitting on a garden 
 
 seat, and Garrick 
 
 reading to her J 
 
 Girl with Bird's -nest 
 Do. with Bird-cage 
 Do. with Muft" 
 Do. with Cat (Felina) 
 Do. with Kitten 
 Do. drawing (Miss > 
 
 Johnson") \ 
 
 Prices. Engravers. 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 Dean 
 Do. 1778 
 
 55 
 
 F. Harward 
 
 J. Watson 
 
 Facias, 1781 
 
 700 
 
 Do. do. 
 
 D. of Marlborough Sherwin 
 
 JOO 
 
 { 
 
 T. Watson 
 & Fisher, 
 1762, &c. 
 
 Finlayson, 1769 
 
 .Hon. T. Fitzmau- 
 f rice 150 
 
 N.Desenfans,Esq. 
 Duke of Dorset 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 N. Desenfans, Esq. 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 Jenner 
 Collyer, 1790 
 Bartolozz.i, 1787 
 
 Grozer, 1790 
 
 Do. leaning on a Pedestal Visct.Palmerstone 75 Baldry 
 Do. laughing — - . - 
 
 Gypsey Fortune-teller 
 
 Do. 
 Gleaners (Mrs. Mack-> 
 lin & Miss Potts) J 
 Heads of angels: study ~| 
 
 from daughter of Lord V-Lord W. Gordon 100 
 
 William Gordon J 
 Hebe (Miss Meyer) 
 
 Earl of Lonsdale 
 Duke of Dorset 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 Mr. Macklin 
 
 350 Sherwin 
 
 00 
 
 Fi«her & Jacobi;, 1780
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 157 
 
 Subjects. Possessors. Prices. Engravers. 
 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 J. R. Smith, 1799 
 Henry Hope, Esq. 160 
 
 Lord Holland 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 J. Harman, Esq. - 
 Lord Palmerstone 
 
 Do. 1777 
 Fisher, 1771 
 
 Facius, 1781 
 
 Grozer, 1788 
 
 Hayward 
 
 J. Dixon, 1771 
 
 Facius, 1781 
 
 Sir C. Bunbury 
 
 Hebe, (Mrs. Musters) 
 Hope nursing Love 
 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 
 Hope: for New College 
 
 window 
 Innocence 
 Infant Academy: 
 
 bequeathed to 
 Juno( Lady Blake) 
 Justice: for New 
 
 College window 
 Lady Sarah Bunbury 
 sacrificing to the 
 
 Graces 
 Lady with Flowers 
 
 L' Allegro (Mrs. Hale) Lord Harewood 
 Landscape Earl of Aylesford 
 
 Do. View from Rlch-l 
 
 mond Villa y 
 
 Lesbia - - Duke of Dorset 
 
 Ld.Sidney&Col. AckO t, i m -> .,„ 
 ,,•'., > Earl or Caernarvon 
 
 land, as Archers ^ 
 
 Love untying the Zone^ 
 
 of Beauty: called the J>Earl of Carysfort 200 J. R.Smith, 1787 
 
 Snake in the Grass J 
 
 Do. do. Prince Potemkin 100 
 
 Do. do. a present to Henry Hope, Esq. 
 Madona - - 
 
 Marchioness Towns- "^ 
 
 hend, Mrs. Garden- '■ 
 
 er, and Hon. Mrs. j t j a* t- 
 X, f 1 J ^Lord Mountjoy 
 
 Berestord, decora- f •' •' 
 
 Fisher 
 
 Do. 
 
 Watson, 
 
 &c. 
 
 50 
 
 Jones and Birch 
 
 75 Bartolozzi, 1788 
 
 Blackmore 
 
 450 T. Watson 
 
 ting a term of Hy- 
 men 
 
 Melancholy (Miss Jones) - - - 
 
 TheBlackguardMercury - - Dean, 1777 
 
 Miranda (Hon. Mrs. "^ 
 
 ToUemache) and r" " " ^' Jones, 1786 
 
 Caliban J 
 
 Muscipula, Girl with ? Count d'Adhemar 50 Jones, 1786 
 Mouse -trap ^ ' 
 
 Nymph (Mrs.Hartley) 5 ^^^j ^f Carysfort - 
 and young Bacchus 5 
 
 Nvmph and Boy J.J. Angerstein,Esq, 
 
 3 s
 
 Facius, 1781 
 
 ids I-IST OF PAINTINGS 
 
 Subjects^ Possessors. Prices. Engravers. 
 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 Old man's Head J. J. E(lri(lge,Esq. J. Watson 
 
 Do. reading a ballad Duke of Rutland Okey 
 
 Omai, the Native of ? t -»»- o< i? i u- itt- 
 
 Q^^l^^j^^ W. AV . Steers, Esq. Jacobi, 177/ 
 
 Oxford WindoAv (a > v i 
 
 , , ^ X ^ > - - tiarloin 
 
 general plate) 3 
 
 Pouting Girl G. Ilardinge, Esq. - 
 
 Prudence: for New 
 
 College window- 
 Puck from Midsummer^ 
 Night's Dream : done S>S. Rogers, Esq. 100 Schiavonetti 
 forAld. Bovdell J 
 Resignation, from ~| 
 Goldsmith's deserted I TV, 1 r,,, j -r- aa- j. ^^-'^ 
 
 Village (White the r-^archs. Thomond T. W atson, 17/ 2 
 
 Paviour) J 
 
 Robinette (Hon. Mrs. ? ^ 1 r t 11 t t i-tot 
 
 rp ,, \ . S- Earl of Lonsdale J. Jones, 1787 
 
 lollemache) 3 
 
 TBarnard, 
 
 Shepherd Boy Lord Irwin 50<; Spilsburj, 
 
 1^ 1788 
 
 Do. - - Marchs. Thomond 
 
 Shepherdess with a Lamb Do. - - J. Grozer, 1784 
 
 Shepherd and Shep- 2 y. 
 
 herdesses 3 * 
 
 Mrs. Siddons as the 7 xx- o -^i r? -rrvnii j -,-0.^ 
 
 rp ., $• W. Smith, Esq. 700 Hayward, 1787 
 
 Iragic Muse 3 ' ^ . > < 
 
 St. Agnes (Mrs. Quar-^ d -d t^ -^u* v^^ en ^ Chambers, 
 • ^x \^ > R. P. Knight, Esq. 50 ^ ,-„-.. T> .. i- • 
 
 rington) 3 & ' 1 ^178/ Betteluii 
 
 St. Cecilia (Mrs. Sher-"^ 
 
 idan and two Misses ^R. B.Sheridan, esq. loODickinson, 1776 
 
 Purdons) J 
 
 St. George (Francis ") 
 
 Duke of Bedford & I - - V. Green, 1778 
 
 brothers) J 
 
 St. John (Master ^ 
 
 Wynne, now Sir ^ - . J. Dean, 1776 
 
 WatJvn Williams) J 
 Strav. bti r^ Girl Earl of Carysfort 50 T. Watson, 1774 
 
 Studious Boy P. Metcalfe, Esq. D2:-n, 1777, Smith 
 
 Thais Mr.Greville ^^^ \l[,^79T''^' 
 
 Temperance: for New ? -e, ■ -,~o^ 
 
 r,*\\ A i- - •- Facius, 1/87 
 
 College window 3 
 
 Theory of Painting Royal Academy J, Grozer, 1785 
 
 Do. do. Marchs. Thomond 
 
 Do. do. J. Hughes, Esq.
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 1;»9 
 
 Subjects, 
 
 Triumph of Truth 
 
 (Dr- Beattie) 
 Two Groupes of cele- 
 brated Characters 
 
 done for the 
 Tuccia,the Vestal Vir 
 
 gin, from Gregory's 
 
 Ode to Meditation 
 Venus chiding Cupid 
 
 for casting Accounts 
 Venus do. bequeathed 
 
 to tlie 
 Do, do. painted for 
 
 Sir B. Boothby 
 Venus and Boy piping 
 Una, from Spenser 
 
 (Miss Beauclerck) 
 Wang-y-Tong, a 
 
 Chinese Boy 
 
 Possessors.* Prices. Engravevs. 
 (Guineas.) 
 
 Mrs. Glennie J. Watson, 1775 
 
 i-Dilletante Society 
 
 (-Mr. Macklin 300 
 
 ^ EarlofCharlemont 100 ^ Jly']^^''-^'' 
 
 y E. of Upper Ossory J. R. Coilyerjl782 
 
 > Sir T. Bernard 
 J. J. Angerstein, Esq. 250 
 Marchs. Thomond T. Watson, 178?. 
 
 Duke of Dorset 70 
 
 Portraits. 
 Archbishop Markham 
 
 of York 
 Robinson, p 
 
 mate of Irelan 
 
 ri-> 
 
 ndj 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 • — Burke, of Tuam 
 
 Admiral Barrington 
 
 Boscawen 
 
 Mrs. Abington Lord Boringdon 
 
 Bishop Percy of Dr.omore 
 
 Shipley of St. Asaph 
 
 Newton of Bristol Abp. of Cauterbur 
 
 Joseph Barretti 
 Archibald Bower 
 Edmund Burke 
 Do. 
 
 Mr. Chauncey 
 Count Belgroso 
 Colonel Tarleton 
 Countess of Berkeley 
 — — — Carlisle. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi 
 
 — Carter, Esq. 
 
 Engravers. 
 C Fisher & Wat- 
 I son, 1778 
 
 Houston, 1765 
 
 J. R. Smith, 1784 
 Earlom, 1780 
 Mac Ardeil, 1757 
 Judkins, 1772 
 Dickinson, 1775 
 Smith, 1777 
 •y Watson, 1775 
 Hardy, 1794 
 Faber 
 
 J. Watson, 1771 
 Hardy, 1780 
 Caroline Watsoii 
 Jacobi 
 
 J. Smith, 1782 
 Mac Ardeil, 1757 
 J. Watson, 177^
 
 160 
 
 LIST OF PAINTINGS 
 
 Portraits. 
 
 Countess of Corn wallis - 
 
 Coventry 
 
 —Essex 
 
 —Harrington 
 
 Hyndfort 
 
 Northumberland 
 
 Pembroke & Son 
 
 Two Miss Crewes 
 
 First Duke of Cumber 
 land 
 
 Late Duke of Cumber-1 
 land J 
 
 Duke of Bedford, two ~] 
 brothers, and Miss J> 
 Vernon J 
 
 puke of Devonshire 
 
 • Gloucester 
 
 Marlborough 
 
 Orleans 
 
 York 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 Engravers, 
 Do. 1771 
 Do. 
 Mac Ardell 
 V. Gre.en, 1780 
 Mac Ardell 
 Houston, 1759 
 Dixon 
 Do. 
 
 Spooner 
 
 T. Watson, 1774 
 
 Smith 
 
 Faber, 1755 
 Pr. Sophia of Gloucester 
 
 Houston 
 Prince Regent 
 
 Honourable Miss Darner 
 
 Dr. Charles Burney Mrs. Piozzi 
 
 — John Hawkesworth 
 
 — Lucas 
 
 — W. Robertson 
 
 — Joseph AVarton 
 
 Duchess of Ancaster 
 
 Do. - - 
 
 Duchess ofBuccleugh 
 
 —Cumberland 
 
 Devonshire 
 
 Gloucester 
 
 Gordon 
 
 Rutland (Dow 
 
 ager) 
 
 J. R. Smith, 1786 
 J. Jones, 1790 
 J. R. Smith, 1774 
 Bartolozzi, 1781 
 J. Watson, 1773 
 Mac Ardell 
 Dixon, 1772 
 Smith, 1777 
 Houston, 1758 
 Dixon 
 
 Ja. Watson, 1775 
 Do. 1777, 1790 
 V. Green, 1780 
 Lady Waldegrave Mac Ardell, 1762 
 Dickinson, 1775 
 
 Samuel Dyer 
 Earl of Albemarle 
 Abercorn 
 
 Bath 
 
 V. Green, 1780 
 
 -Bristol( Augustus.) 
 
 -Carlisle 
 
 -Dalkeith 
 
 -Dartmouth 
 
 -Gower 
 
 -Mansfield 
 
 -Moira 
 
 -Pembroke 
 
 Sir Ridley ColborneMarchi, 1773 
 . - Fisher 
 Dean 
 
 Mac Ardell, 1758 
 Fisher 
 
 Spilsbury, 1763 
 - - V. Green 
 Spilsbury 
 Fisher, 1765 
 Bartolozzi, 1786 
 
 DukeofYor]^ Jones, 1792 
 
 5 Dixon, Watson, 
 l 1772
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 iOl 
 
 Portraits. Possessors. 
 
 Earl of Rothes 
 
 Strafford 
 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert 
 Samuel Foote 
 Monsieur Gautier ") 
 (done at Paris) 5 
 Edward Gibbon 
 
 Oliver Goldsmith Mrs. Piozzi 
 
 Groupe : Lady Sarah"^ 
 Bunbury, Lady Su- ! 
 san Strangeways, & j 
 Charles James Fox J 
 Warren Hastings 
 Soame Jenyns 
 
 Samuel Johnson Mrs. Piozzi 
 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Angelica Kauffman 
 Miss Kembie 
 Mrs. Kennedy 
 Lady Bampfylde 
 — — Broughton 
 
 Ahneria Carpenter 
 
 Chambers 
 
 Elizabeth Keppel 
 
 ' Louisa Manners 
 
 Melbourne & Child Visct. Melbourne 
 
 Three Ladies Walde 
 
 M. Camden 
 
 grave 
 Lord Amherst 
 
 Anson 
 
 Camden 
 
 Do. 
 Cardross (Earl 
 
 Buchan) 
 
 Heathfield 
 
 Hood 
 
 Ligonier, on 
 
 horseback 
 Rodney 
 
 Do. 
 
 Romney 
 
 George Seymour 
 
 Lord ChancellorThurlow 
 
 Their Majesties, (two) Royal Academy 
 
 Giuseppe Marchi «- 
 
 Marchs. Thomond 
 
 Engravers. 
 Mac Ardell, 1755 
 Mac Ardell, 1762 
 
 Blackmore, 1771 
 
 H. Fess 
 
 Hall, 1780 
 Marchi, 1770 
 
 J. Watson 
 
 T. Watson, 1777 
 Dickinson 
 J. Watson, 1770 
 Hall, 1787 
 Doughty, 1784 
 Bartolozzi, 1780 
 J. Jones, 1784 
 T. Watson, 1771 
 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 1770 
 J. Watson, 1763 
 Mac Ardell 
 Fisher 
 V. Green 
 T. Watson 
 
 V. Green 
 
 J. Watson 
 Mac Ardell, 1755 
 Basire, 1766 
 Ravenhill 
 
 Mac Ardell 
 
 Earlom, 1788 
 J. Jones, 1783 
 
 Fisher 
 
 Dickinson, 1780 
 J. Watson 
 Finlayson, 1773 
 Fisher, 1771 
 Bartolozzi, 178?. 
 Various 
 Spilsbury
 
 162 
 
 LIST OF PAINTINGS. 
 
 Portraits. 
 Marquis of Abercorn > 
 (a family piece) 3 
 
 ■ Buckingham 
 
 Gianbj 
 
 Do. do. (with a horse) 
 -Lansdowne, 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 } 
 
 !ir T. Baring 
 
 Duke of Bedford 
 
 Lord Ashburton & 
 Colonel Barre 
 
 Rockingl)am 
 
 Tavistoc k 
 
 Tichfield 
 
 Marchioness of Lothian 
 
 Thomond 
 
 Townsheiid 
 
 Mrs. Montague 
 
 Nelly O'Brien 
 
 H. R. H. the Prince) 
 
 Regent ^ 
 
 Princess Augusta 
 
 - Sophia 
 Rev. Zachariah Mudge 
 
 Thomas Warton 
 
 Samuel Reynolds, S. T.P. 
 Of Sir Joshua Rky-~ 
 
 NOLDs himself the 
 
 portraits have been 
 
 so numerous as to 
 
 bid defiance to enu- 
 meration. These are 
 
 all from his own pen- 
 cil, with the excep- ^ 
 
 tion of one by C. G. 
 
 Stuart,an American, 
 
 one by Zoftanii, and 
 
 one by Mr. Breda, 
 ' a Swedish painter. 
 
 The best engravings 
 
 are by J 
 
 Sir Joseph Banks 
 
 — Charles Bunbury 
 
 — William Chambers Royal Academy 
 
 — John Cust 
 
 — Charles Saunders 
 
 — John Wynne 
 
 Do. - - 
 
 Laurence Sterne Earl of Ossory 
 
 Ensravers. 
 
 Dickinson, 177f 
 Houston, 1760 
 J. Watson 
 
 Fisher 
 
 J. Watson, 1767 
 
 Jenner, 1777 
 
 Spilsbury 
 
 V. Green 
 Pollard 
 J. Watson 
 
 F. Ha ward, 1793 
 
 Mac Ardell, 1764 
 
 J. Watson 
 Hodges, 1794 
 Mac Ardell 
 
 V. Green, J. 
 Collyer, J. Wat- 
 son, C.Townley, 
 I.K. Sherwin,R. 
 Earlom, Pariset, 
 Facius, S. W. 
 Reynolds, Caro- 
 "^ line Kirkley, 
 Caroline Wat- 
 son, T. Hollo- 
 way, and the por- 
 trait which ac- 
 companies this 
 work 
 
 Dickinson, 1774 
 
 Marchi 
 
 V. Green, 1780 
 
 J. Watson, 1769 
 
 Mac Ardell 
 
 Dean 
 
 Watson 
 
 Fisher
 
 BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 163 
 
 Portraits. 
 Viscount Downe 
 
 Keppel 
 
 Sackville 
 
 Horace Walpole 
 Harry Woodward 
 
 Possessors. 
 
 Engravers. 
 Fisher 
 
 Do. 1759 
 Mac Ardell 
 Mac Ardell, IToT 
 Houston 
 
 Even in the present Exhibition there are many which are not 
 here enumerated; and there are also many others expected: so 
 that a complete List, if it were possible to procure it, would 
 fill a volume. 
 
 It is also proper to notice, that several of these here enu- 
 merated have been likewise engraved by other artists.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Academy of Arts, first rise of, 44. 
 Academy, Royal, established, 84. 
 
 Accident at the delivery of Sir Joshua's last discourse, 28'8. 
 Address, poetical one, on the New College window, 217. 
 Algiers visited by Sir Joshua, 23. 
 
 Anecdotes, of Rev. Thomas Baker, 9; Hudson the painter, 16; 
 Alexander Pope, 17; William Gandy, 19; of Sir Joshua's 
 father, 20 ; Viscount Keppel, 21, 25 ; Astley the painter, 23 ; 
 Roubiliac the sculptor, 29 ; Sir William Chambers, 30; Hud- 
 son, his old master, 32 ; Giuseppe Marchi, his first pupil, ib. ; 
 John Stephen Liotard, S3 ; Viscount Keppel, 35 ; Dr. John- 
 son, 37 ; Miss Cotterells,38j Johnson, 39 ; Roubiliac, 41, 
 Samuel Richardson and Dr. Johnson, 42 ; Johnson, 43, 
 44 ; of Academy of Arts, ib. ; of early exhibitions, 48 ; Gar- 
 rick, 52 ; Mrs. Yates, 53 ; Samuel Foote, 54 ; of the Mudge 
 family, 55 ; curious one, 59 ; Samuel Beech, a pupil of Sir 
 Joshua's, 61; of the Literary Club, 62; of the Society of 
 Artists, 64; of Barry the painter, 76 ; of Mr. Burke, ib.; 
 of Mrs. Collyer's picture, 77 ; Dr. Farmer, 78 ; Parry, a 
 pupil of Sir Joshua's, 80; Cotes the painter, 81 ; Ramsay the 
 painter, 82; Goldsmith, 85; Dr. Franklin, 90; Barretti, 97; 
 Charles Gill a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 98; of negro servant of 
 Sir Joshua's, 99; of Dusign, a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 104; of 
 Pope's fan, ib.; of Caleb Whiteford, 107; of Dean Bernard 
 and Johnson, 109; of Johnson, 117, &c.; Mac Ardell the 
 engraver, ib. ; of Miss Reynolds, ib. et passim ; cff Mr 
 Locke, 125; General Paoli,ib. ; curious one of a Macaw, 128 ; 
 of the picture of Count IJgolino, 143; of Dr. Beattie, 154; 
 &c.; of his Majesty and Sir Joshua, 160; of Dr. Newton, 
 162; of Dilletante Society, 176; of Hone the painter, 178; 
 of Gainsborough tiie painter, 183 ; of William Doughty, a 
 pupil of Sir Joshua's, 187 ; of Vandyke, l9l ; of ayouno- 
 painter, 202; of Lord Chesterfield, 206; of Garrick, 208^; 
 Drs. Warton and Johnson, 214 ; of late Lord Asbburton, 
 215 ; of Jervas,*the painter on glass, 216 ; scandalous one of 
 Thais refuted, 225 ; of Rubens, 226 ; of the Dusseldorf 
 Gallery, 227 ; of De Gree the painter, ib. ; of Mr Opie 
 228 ; of Moser, the keeper of the Royal Academy, 234 : of 
 3 T
 
 1G6 INDEX. 
 
 Lowe the painter, 236 ; of the Literary Club, 239 ; of Miss 
 
 Reynolds and Johnson, 242 ; generous one of Sir Joshua, 
 
 247 ; curious one of Plympton School, ib. ; of George 
 
 Stevens and Sir Joshua, 269 ; of Mr Fox, 274 ; of Lord 
 
 Heathfield,ib. ; of Pack the painter, 275; of Gainsborough, 
 
 ib. ; of Sir William Jones, 279. 
 Astley, John, anecdotes of, 26. 
 Ashburton, late Lord, anecdote of, 215. 
 Author, first becomes acquainted with Sir Joshua, 58; first 
 
 placed with Sir Joshua, 114. 
 Baker, Rev. Thomas, anecdotes of, 9. 
 Barretti, Joseph, anecdote of, 97. 
 Barry the painter, anecdotes of, 76, 83, 90, 94, 163, 240, 242, 
 
 253, 305. 
 Beattie,l)r. James, anecdotes of, 154, 155, 165,222, 264. 
 Beach, Samuel, a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 61. 
 Beaufort, picture of, animadversions on, 270. 
 Bernard, L)ean, anecdotes of, 109. 
 Blakeney, General, his attentions to Sir Joshua, 24. 
 Bosvvell, James, notices of, 116, 150,250,251. 
 Boydell, Alderman, his Shakspeare Gallery, 269. 
 Bunbury, Lady Sarah, her portrait, 69. 
 Burke, Edmund, anecdotes of, 76, 79, 192, 204; his obituary 
 
 character of Sir Joshua, 295, 303. 
 Chambers, Sir William, anecdotes of, 30. 
 Character of Honourable Mrs. P , written by Sir Joshua, 
 
 ISl. 
 
 , professional, of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 308. 
 
 of Rev. Z. Mudge, written by Dr. Johnson, 57. 
 
 Chesterfield, Lord, anecdote of, 206. 
 
 Collyer, Mrs. anecdotes of, 77. 
 
 Colouring, mode of Sir Joshua's, observations on, 182. 
 
 Compliments, poetical, to Sir Joshua, 137, 262, 263, et passim; 
 
 282, 285, 306. 
 Cotes the painter, anecdotes of, 81. 
 Cotterells, Miss, anecdotes of, 37. 
 Cotterell, Admiral, anecdotes of, 39. 
 Cromwell, Oliver, anecdote of an original picture, 266. 
 Cumberland, Richard, anecdote of, 107. 
 Cupid and Psyche painted by Sir Joshua, 36. 
 Dedications to Sir Joshua, 163, 173. 
 De Gree the painter, anecdotes of, 228. 
 Devon, county of, remarkable for producing painters, 8, 
 Dey of Algiers, his conduct, 25. 
 Dilletante Society, notices of, 176. 
 Discourses delivered at the Academy by Sir Joshua, 87, 100, 
 
 111, 129, 140, 174, 198, 209, 213,220, 233, 254, 267, 277, 
 
 287.
 
 INDEX. m 
 
 Doughty, William, anecdotes of, a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 1 87. 
 
 Dusign,apupil of Sir Joshua's, anecdotes of, 104. 
 
 Dusseldorf Gallery, anecdote respecting, 227. 
 
 Early specimens of Sir Joshua, 13. 
 
 Edgecumbe family patronize Sir Joshua, 21. 
 
 Edgecumbe, Lord, letter to, 27. 
 
 Exhibitions first commence, 48. 
 
 Exhibitions of Royal Academy, 79, 93, 212, 222, 239, 248, 263. 
 
 Epitaphs, humourous, leading to " Retaliation," 106. 
 
 Fan painted by Pope, anecdote of, 104. 
 
 Farmer, Dr., anecdotes of, 78. 
 
 Florence, Sir Joshua sends his portrait there, 178. 
 
 Foote, Samuel, anecdote of, 54. 
 
 Fox, Charles James, anecdote of, 274. 
 
 Franklin, Dr. his Poem on the Royal Academy, 90. 
 
 Funeral of Sir Joshua, 298, &c. 
 
 Gainsborough the painter, notices of, 183, &c.; anecdotes of, 
 
 246, 275. 
 Gandy, William, anecdotes of, 54 ; biographical memoir of, 
 
 327. 
 Garrick, David, anecdotes of, 52, 53, 54, 53, 120, 172, 205, 209, 
 
 — 211; his portrat between Tragedy and Comedy, 52. 
 Gibraltar visited by Sir Joshua, 23. 
 Gill, Charles, a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 98. 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, anecdotes of, 85, 100, 107, 108, 126, 127, 
 
 128, 129, 137—143, 147, 167, 171, 172, 174,240. 
 Heathfield, Lord, anecdote of, 274. 
 His Majesty and Sir Joshua, anecdote of, 160. 
 Hone, the painter anecdotes of, 179. 
 Hudson, his old master, anecdote of, 16, 32. 
 Idler, three papers written for, by Sir Joshua, 45. 
 Italy, Sir Joshua proceeds to, 24. 
 Jervis, Mr., the painter on glass, 216. 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, anecdotes of, 37, 39, 42, 43, 44, 45, 50, 
 
 57, 69, 70, 84, 86, 109, 117, 118, 119, 420, 121, 122, 142, 
 
 148, 172, 173, 177, 178, 180, 204, 205,206, 214, 224, 232, 
 
 236, 239, 240, 241, 242, 250, dies, 251. 
 Jones, Sir William, anecdote of, 279. 
 Kemble, Miss, poetical compliment on her portrait, 248. 
 Keppel, Viscount, anecdotes of, 21. 
 Knighthood conferred on Sir Joshua, 86 ; 
 Letter, an elegant, one to Sir Joshua, 151. 
 Liotard, John Stephen, anecdotes of, 33, 
 Lisbon, visited by Sir Joshua, 23. 
 Literary Club, formation of, 62 j notices of, 239,279. 
 Locke, Mr-, anecdote of, 125. 
 Lowe, the painter, anecdotes of, 236.
 
 168 INDEX. 
 
 Macaw, curious anecdote respecting one, 128. 
 
 Marchi Giusseppe, his first pupil, anecdotes of, 32. 
 
 MayoralitjofPlympton conferred on Sir Joshua, 150. 
 
 Milton, original picture of discovered, 256, 257. 
 
 Minorca visited by Sir Joshua, 24. 
 
 Moser, Mr., his death and character, 234. 
 
 Mudge family, anecdotes of, ^55. 
 
 Negro Servant of Sir Joshua, anecdote of, 98. 
 
 New College Chapel Window, designs for, 215. 
 
 Newton, Dr., anecdote of, 162. 
 
 Notes for Shakspeare, written by Sir Joshua, 71. 
 
 Observations and fragments of Sir Joshua, 196, 198, &c. 
 
 Opie, Mr., anecdotes of, 228; his character, 230. 
 
 Pack, Mr., the painter, anecdotes of, 275. 
 
 Painter Stainer's Company elect Sir Joshua a member, 250. 
 
 Paintings, foreign, of Sir Joshua, and their exhibition, 292, 295. 
 
 Painting chair. Sir Joshua's, given to Barry, 167. 
 
 Parry, a pupil of Sir Joshua, anecdotes of, 80. 
 
 Pindar, Peter, his compliments to Sir Joshua, 232. 
 
 Plympton school, curious anecdote of, 247. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, anecdote of, 17. 
 
 Portrait painting, observations on, 122. 
 
 Preface to first Exhibition Catalogue, written by Dr. Johnson, 
 50. 
 
 Presidentship of the Royal Academy, conferred on Sir Joshua, 
 85. 
 
 Hamsay, the painter, anecdotes of, 82. 
 
 IIeynolds, Sir Joshua, birth, 8; family, 10 — 11 ; education, 12; 
 early specimens of painting, 13; first sent to London, 16; 
 placed with Hudson, the painter, ib.; quits Hudson, 18; 
 settles at Plymouth, 19; is patronized by the Edgecumbe 
 family, 21 ; proceeds to Lisbon, 23; to Gibraltar, ib. ; to 
 Algiers, ib. ; to Minorca, 24 ; to Italy, ib. ; arrives at Rome, 
 25: his mode of life whilst there, 26; letter to Lord Edge- 
 cumbe, 27?; parv*Jies the School of RaffVielle, 29; returns to 
 England, by Paris, ib. ; arrives in England, 31 ; proceeds to 
 Plymouth, and paints the portrait of Dr. Mudge, ib. ; returns 
 to tiie metropolis, and settles there, ib. ; fixes his residence in 
 Newport -street, 33; paints Viscount Keppel, 35 ; becomes 
 acquainted with Dr. Johnson, 37; becomes acquainted with 
 Richardson, author of Clarissa, 42; advances in fame, 44; 
 writes three papers for the Idler, 45; removes to Leicester- 
 fields, 48; ])aints Garrick, betvveen Tragedy and Comedy, 
 52; visits the west of England, with Johnson, 55', the author 
 first becomes acquainted with him, 59; his mode of life, 60; 
 increased practice, 61 ; assists in forming the Literary Club, 
 52; painls Lady Sarah Banbury, 69; writes notes for Shaks-
 
 INDEX. 169 
 
 peare, 71 ; revisits Paris, 83 : elected President of the Royal 
 Academy, 85; is dubbed a knight, 86; his letter to Barry 
 at Rome, 94; curious anecdote of, 99; the autlior is placed 
 with him, 114; anecdotes of domestic life, society &c., 115; 
 visits Paris, 126; criticism on his paintings, 136; for his 
 Discourses see under that head; poetical compliments to 
 him, 137; paints Ugolino, 143; visits Plymouth, is elected 
 Mayor of Plympton, 150; visits Oxford, and is admitted 
 Doctor of Laws, paints Dr. Beattie's picture, 155, &c. ; pro- 
 poses to decorate St. Paul's, l60; loses his friend Goldsmith, 
 170; sends his portrait to Florence, 178; writes the character 
 of the Hon. Mrs. P., 181; observations on his mode of 
 colouring, 182; observations on his mode of drapery, 186; 
 the author quits his tuition, 188; professional anecdotes, 192, 
 193, 194, 195, 196, ; observations and fragments, 197; 
 publishes his jfirst seven discourges, 201; his nice discrimi- 
 nation of characters, 206; ornaments the Academy's apart- 
 ments, and paints the portraits of their Majesties, 210; 
 paints the designs for New College Chapel window, 215} 
 visits the Continent,225; seized with a paralytic attack, 
 231; revisits the Continent, 243; his observations, 244; adds 
 notes to Mason's translation of Du Fresnoy, ib. ; anecdote 
 of his own early practice, ib, ; interests himself for the in- 
 crease of Johnson's pension, 250; is presented with the 
 freedom of the Painter Stainers' Company, ib.; loses his 
 friend Johnson, 251 ; obtains an original miniature of Milton, 
 255; his observations on it, 256; attends the sale of paintings 
 in Flanders, 263; paints the Hercules for the Empress of 
 Russia, 264; discovers an original picture of Cromwell, 26G; 
 paints for the Shakspeare Gallery, 2G9; his sight I'ails, 279; 
 differs with the Royal Academy, and resig ,s, 280; resumes 
 the situation of President, 286; delivers his last discourse, 
 287; exhibits his foreign pictures, 293 ; his health declines, 
 294; resigns the active duties of the Presidentship, ib. : his 
 last illness and death, 295; his character by Burke, 296; his 
 funeral, 298; his will, 304; his character, with concluding 
 observations, 308. 
 
 Reynolds, Rev. Samuel, anecdotes of, 20. 
 
 Reynolds, Miss, anecdotes of, 223, 243. 
 
 Richardson, author of Clarissa, anecdote of, 42. 
 
 Rise of the art in England, 8. 
 
 Rome, Sir Joshua proceeds to, 25. 
 
 Royal Academy, Sir Joshua's difference with, 280, 286. 
 
 Roubiliac the sculptor, anecdotes of, 29, 41, 42. 
 
 Rnbens, anecdote of, 226. 
 
 Russia, Empress of, her letter, &c. 265. 
 
 School of Raffaellfij parodied by Sir Joshua, ?9.
 
 170 INDEX. 
 
 School house at Plympton, with an engraving, 14. 
 
 Score, a pupil of Sir Joshua's, 209. 
 
 Shakspeare, Johnson's edition of, 70. 
 
 Sheridan, R. B., his poetical compliment to Sir Joshua, 211. 
 
 Society of Artists, anecdotes of, 64. 
 
 Society of Arts, notices of, 163. 
 
 Sterne, Laurence, his notices of Sir Joshua, 52. 
 
 Stevens, George, anecdote of, and Sir Joshua, £69. 
 
 Thais, picture of, scandalous anecdote refuted, 225. 
 
 Tucker, Dean, observation of, 207. 
 
 Ugolino, Count, painting of, with illustrative anecdotes, 143. 
 
 Vandyke, anecdote of, 191. 
 
 Viscount Keppel, anecdotes of, with reference to his portrait, 
 
 35. 
 "Warton, Dr., his quarrel with Johnson, 214. 
 VN'hiteford, Caleb, anecdote of, 107. 
 Yates, Mrs., anecdote of, 53. 
 Zoffanii the painter, anecdote of, 247. 
 
 VARIETIES ON ART. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Dream of a painter - - - _ 3 
 
 The Painter and Philosopher - - - 21 
 
 The Slighted Beauty .... 29 
 
 On Originality, Imitators, and Collectors - - 107 
 
 Letter from a Disappointed Genius - - 115 
 
 Independence of Painting on Poetry - - 119 
 
 Second Letter from a Disappointed Genius - 129 
 
 Imitation of the Stage in Painting - - 137 
 
 Advice to a Young Artist . . _ 145 
 
 LIST OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS'S WORKS. 
 THE END.
 
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