Three months previous to the date when the ashes of Sir Godfrey Kneller mingled with kindred dust, the first Englishman who, according to the eloquent eulogium of Burke, added the praise of the elegant arts to the other glories of his country, was cradled, with time-honored formalities, in a borough town of Devonshire. Joshua Reynolds was the tenth of the numerous family with which his parents—a worthy and old-fashioned couple—were blessed. His father was a scholar and divine, known and valued in the province for the respectability of his learning, the innocence of his heart, and the simplicity of his mind. Besides, he is stated to have been of so singularly absent a tendency, that once, while performing a journey on horseback, he dropped one of his top-boots by the way, without perceiving the unusual and inconvenient loss he had met with. Doubtless when he arrived at home, this laughable and disastrous incident would furnish his fruitful dame, Theophila, with the text of a diffuse and impassioned curtain-lecture, and, perhaps, make the reverend personage considerably more careful when in future he escaped for a while from The occasion of the high-fated infant’s presentation at the baptismal font was rendered memorable by a mistake so awkward and peculiar, as to furnish reasonable grounds for believing the mental characteristics of the elder Reynolds to have been then at work. In any case, the officiating clergyman was led by some process to pronounce the Christian name of Joseph instead of that by which the child then presented has since been known to the world, as well as registered in the records of fortune and the rolls of fame. On the education of young Reynolds much less attention was bestowed than might have been expected from the circumstances of his birth; and he did not profit to any large extent by such instruction as he received. He did not obtain any great stock of classical knowledge; but his deficiency in this important respect, though never supplied, was, in after days, countervailed and thrown into the background by the information which he had acquired in untiring study of Nature and perseverance in Art, in that commerce with the most refined portion of the British public, of which, for many long years, he had the advantage, and in the constant and familiar intercourse which, Having, about his eighth year, met with the “Jesuit’s Perspective,” young Reynolds read and digested its contents with so much earnestness, that he was enabled to execute a drawing of the school-house on the principles asserted in the treatise. This, when exhibited in the family circle, quite astonished the anxious father, who, with gratified pride, pronounced the execution wonderful; and he began to regard the juvenile artist’s predilections with comparative complacency. Upon this, Reynolds devoted himself more arduously to his chosen studies, took likenesses of the inmates of the house, improved perceptibly in execution, and quite neglected his school exercises. He was confirmed in his love of art by reading Richardson’s “Treatise on Painting,” which so captivated and inspired While Reynolds was in his nineteenth year, a neighbor and acquaintance of the family, observing that a provincial place was too limited a sphere for the proper cultivation of such powers, recommended that the aspiring lad should be placed under proper tuition in London. Accordingly, in the autumn, the future knightly President of the Royal Academy was on his way to the metropolis, and consigned to the care and superintendence of Hudson, who, though at the period much employed in the manufacture of portraits, was not possessed of any surpassing skill or taste in art. A contract was entered into, that if the veteran approved of his pupil’s conduct, he was to retain the latter’s services for a term of four years; but he reserved the power of discharging the assistant at pleasure. Perhaps, in this position Reynolds was merry enough; for there were other youths in Hudson’s studio, and on warm summer days they had opportunities of making agreeable excursions, rambling about the country and admiring the scenery. While thus situated, Reynolds had the gratification of exchanging courtesies with a famous poet, who had aspired, without any particular success, to excellence in the kindred art of painting. He was attending a public sale of pictures; and just before the hero of the hour raised his voice and brandished his hammer, the name of Pope was passed round, and all respectfully made way for the friend of Bolingbroke. Those who were near held out their hands; and Reynolds being among the number, had the distinction of a gentle shake from those bony fingers which had so often been made the instruments of bitter and brilliant sarcasm. The wheel of time rolled round; the painter, seated among the literary magnates of another generation, still felt pride in relating this interesting little incident; his admiration of the crooked bard was unabated; he was at great pains to procure a fan on which was one of Pope’s efforts in painting; and the recollection of their meeting filled him with satisfaction, even when youths, as in the case of Northcote, were pressing forward, through crowds, to indulge in the luxury of touching his own skirt. Reynolds continued to pursue his artistic career under Hudson’s inspection for two years, during which he drew many heads with so unquestionable a success, that he thereby excited and inflamed the jealousy of his instructor, who foretold, with a pang, that his pupil would yet arrive at rare celebrity. At length he executed the portrait of an elderly domestic, who The latter had been one day requested to convey a picture to a certain drapery-painter; but as the weather happened to be rainy, he concluded that there would be no harm in delaying its delivery till next morning. At breakfast, Hudson querulously inquired why it had not been taken the evening before, and was informed that the rain had been the cause of the delay. “Well,” he exclaimed, “since you have not obeyed my orders, you must leave my house.” Reynolds pleaded for a brief reprieve, but in vain. He asked to be allowed to write an explanation of the matter, and obtain his father’s advice. But Hudson was inexorable; he adhered sternly to his harsh mandate, and Reynolds, going to an uncle who resided at the Temple, thence wrote to his father that he had been dismissed. The latter took the affair into grave consideration, held a sage consultation with his neighbor, Lord Edgecumbe, and directed the young artist to return home. Retirement to the obscurity of Devonshire might delay the progress, but could not Somewhere about 1745, Reynolds took up his quarters for a while at Plymouth Dock, and employed his time in taking portraits of naval officers and other persons in the vicinity. Most of the likenesses then produced were good; but the example of Hudson had placed him at a disadvantage. His sitters were generally represented with one hand inserted in a waistcoat pocket, and the other stiffly holding a hat. One gentleman did, indeed, request to be drawn with his headpiece on, and his desire was complied with; but—alas for the vanity of human wishes!—when the portrait was sent home, and scrutinized by the capricious individual’s dame, she discovered, with inexpressible horror, that the artist, true to habit, had placed a hat under the arm in addition to that on the head! Among those whose features he now transferred to Reynolds had, some time before, lost his venerable father; and he had now to act entirely on his own judgment and discretion. But having been long and enthusiastically eager to visit Italy, and being in possession of funds sufficient to defray the expense, he availed himself of the friendly proposal, and sailed in May, 1749. Having visited various places of interest, and been introduced, at Algiers, to the Dey, he landed at Port Mahon, in Minorca, where he was treated with much courtesy, and entertained with great hospitality, by the governor. There he added to his skill and means by painting portraits of many officers on the station; but at the same time encountered, and suffered from, an accident of considerable severity. One day as he was refreshing himself with a ride, his horse suddenly took fright, ran off, and rushed wildly over a precipice. The rider was not unhurt by the fall; and indeed his upper lip was so sadly bruised that part of it had to be cut away; so that a scar, which remained visible to the close of his life, was the consequence. “When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.” While at Rome, Reynolds was less employed by English travelers than might have been anticipated; and he seems to have considered the time so occupied as being almost lost. Before leaving, however, he executed an approved likeness of himself, and an interesting parody on Raphael’s “School of Athens.” He remained as long as the state of his finances rendered prudent, and afterward gave it as his mature opinion, that any artist, with large views, should rather live on bread and water than forego advantages never enjoyed a second time, and not to be found but in the Reynolds had been absent for about three years from England when, in the autumn of 1752, he had the gratification of setting foot on her sacred soil. He immediately went to Devonshire, to recruit his health and inspire vigor from fresh breezes and his native air. Early in the next year he returned to London, and, quartering himself in St. Martin’s Lane, commenced his professional career with earnestness and resolution. His talents were such as, if properly exerted, could hardly fail to meet with encouragement and lead on to fortune; and their possessor not only recognized the great fact that unflinching perseverance was essential to success, but maintained the opinion that any one aspiring to excel in art must make it the subject of his thoughts from the time he rises till he goes to bed. Nay, more; he said that those aiming at distinction must work, whether willingly or with reluctance, morning, noon, and night, and expect to find their occupation no pastime, but hard labor. Undoubtedly during youth he carried this wholesome With all his taste, ease, felicity of invention, and power of rich, harmonious coloring, Reynolds did not acquire his legitimate position without a salutary struggle. His boldness, freedom, and brilliancy were regarded as strange and objectionable novelties. The old dogs began to bark. The portrait of a pupil whom he had brought from Rome, in a Turkish dress, and known as “a boy with a turban,” gained notice and excited observation. Hudson, perhaps nourishing the old wound in his breast, declared that the youth’s painting was not so good as when he left England; an eminent disciple of Kneller denounced it, as not the least like Sir Godfrey’s—it would never answer; and others were by no means sparing in sharp and invidious strictures. The artist was as little guided by such remarks as was the disinherited knight by the well-meant hints of the crowd around the lists at Ashby; but, moving onward undismayed, he soon convinced the public that he would pursue his chosen course and win high renown in doing so. He painted the second Duke of Devonshire with a success which extended his reputation in patrician circles; and universal Reynolds was a thorough Englishman. In other lands he had, with all his outward coldness, shed tears on hearing the ancient ballad tunes of his country played in the theatre; and his heart must now have swelled with no small pride at the reflection that it was the first time a native of England had been victorious in such a contest. The aspirations which, for years, he had fondly cherished, were now to be gratified; and he could rejoice in the thought that future generations would gaze with wonder on his paintings, and hold his name in veneration. To pursue his career On the occasion of a visit to his native county, Reynolds accidentally laid his hand on Johnson’s “Life of Savage;” and standing by the fire, he leant his arm against the mantle-piece, opened the book, and began to look through it. Gradually he became so completely absorbed with the contents, that he continued in this position till he had perused the volume; and then found his arm quite benumbed, his heart almost enchanted, and his curiosity raised to be acquainted with the author. This satisfaction was not long denied him. They met at the house of the daughters of Admiral Cotterell, and Reynolds was as much delighted “Oh, how shocking and selfish!” exclaimed the sisterhood; but the man who had lived on a groat a day, and stood behind greasy screens to conceal his worn-out clothes, appreciated this remark as being that of a person who thought and decided for himself. He therefore defended its justice in a clear and forcible manner, though, perhaps, without conveying conviction to the minds of the decorous spinsters. At all events, he was so pleased with his new friend that they left the party together. Johnson went and supped at Reynold’s house; and thus was commenced an intimacy which was only terminated by death. Johnson became a frequent visitor, and went without ceremony to enjoy the great painter’s society, who, on his part, declared that no one had, like his illustrious friend, the faculty of teaching inferior minds the art of thinking. There is not, perhaps, in the wide world, so full of guile and selfishness, a fairer field for the cultivation of friendship than that which lies between the studio The year 1758 was, in a pecuniary point of view, one of the most fortunate that Reynolds ever experienced; and he soon gave signs of his prosperity by purchasing a mansion in Leicester Square, which he inhabited ever after. It was a maxim with him, that an artist who marries is ruined for life; and he seems to have guarded the passes to his heart with singular vigilance, as we do not read of any fair damsel making havoc in its chambers, though it is quite possible that It is doubtless a proud day with most persons who In 1762, the health of Reynolds rendering relaxation and a rural excursion necessary, he repaired to Devonshire, accompanied by Dr. Johnson, who thus had a favorable opportunity of seeing Plymouth, in which he expressed particular interest. Falstaff regaling himself with cheese and carraway pippins in Justice Shallow’s orchard, or the Spectator enjoying the ancient hospitality of Coverley Hall, are hardly more than equal in interest to the sage of Bolt Court, who knew human nature only as exhibited in the streets and suburbs of London, being refreshed with an adventure in the country. The two friends were Reynolds was an ardent lover of his profession; his pride in art was high, and he was ever ready, when there was occasion, to stand forward in its defense. But his character was cold and stately; he deemed it impossible for two artists in the same line to associate in friendship: he thought Poetry the twin-sister of Painting, and found his companions chiefly among literary men. It was natural, therefore, that when the Literary Club was established in 1764, he should have been one of its members. A man, however, is known by the company he keeps; and Reynolds was disagreeably surprised to hear himself spoken of as “one of the wits.” Perhaps the term did not convey the most pleasing sensation to a person with a coach of his own and six thousand a year; and he exclaimed, in alarm, “Why do they call me a wit? I never was a wit in my life!” His commissions had gradually become so numerous, that he found it necessary to have several assistants to work out the minor details: he had arrived on an enviable eminence; and though artists of ability made their appearance, he still maintained his supremacy, and constantly struck out wonders to vindicate his claim to the favor of the public. In 1766 he painted the Queen of Denmark, before she sailed on her ill-fated voyage. Coming events cast their shadows before; and he never went without finding the hapless princess in tears. Reynolds increased in wealth and reputation; his enthusiasm for art never cooled into indifference, and he was never so happy as when putting life into canvas. He rose betimes, and commenced operations; he spoke little when occupied, but painted rapidly for six hours, and devoted the remainder to society. He was animated by warm affections, and had a strong love for children. Reynolds was not one of the originators of the Royal Academy; but in 1768, when it was instituted, he was waited on by West, and requested to give his aid in promoting the objects which the undertaking was intended to serve. He was rather doubtful whether the scheme was likely to be favored by Fortune; and he was one of those who had no relish for engaging in an enterprise, “Save when her humorous ladyship was by To teach him safety.” It was, therefore, after considerable hesitation, and In 1773 Reynolds paid visits to Paris and Oxford. At the latter place he received, amidst much applause, the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws, in company with Dr. Beattie, of whom he produced a celebrated picture on returning to London. About the same date he went to his native district, and was elected Sir Joshua was chosen a member of the Academy of Florence, and, in accordance with its rules, required to furnish a portrait of himself. This he accomplished with his wonted success; and it was added with pride to their interesting collection. In 1780 he commenced a series of allegorical figures for the window of the New College chapel at Oxford. These were followed by the “Nativity,” which being sold to the Duke of Rutland, perished in a fire at Belvoir Castle. About this time he made a tour to inspect the Continental galleries. On returning, he sustained a paralytic attack, which much alarmed his friends, but his recovery was speedy; and he quickly proved that his powers had suffered no decay, by the production of his “Fortune-teller,” his portrait of Miss Kemble, and that of Mrs. Siddons, in the full might of her beauty and power, as the Tragic Muse. While engaged with the latter, he wrote his name on the border of her robe; and on the great actress looking at the words, and smiling, he remarked, with one of his most courtly bows, that On the death of Allan Ramsay, the king’s painter, Reynolds was, at the request of his majesty, induced to accept the vacant office. He soon after produced “Love unloosing the Zone of Beauty,” and a portrait of the notorious Duke of Orleans. Then he gave his time and attention to painting the “Infant Hercules Strangling the Serpents,” for the Empress of Russia; who acknowledged his attention by a note of thanks from her own imperial hand, a gold snuff-box, on which was her likeness, and a purse of fifteen hundred guineas. Sir Joshua had now reached his sixty-sixth year; his fame was high; his influence on the taste and refinement of the country was not disputed; and his artistic powers remained unimpaired. His career had indeed been characterized by the strictness and temperance essential to the possession of “a healthy body and a vigorous mind;” he had realized a fortune; he had associated with the noble and beautiful of the land; and his wealth, his heavy purse, and hospitable table, gave him dignity in the eyes not only of many who were incapable of appreciating his merits, but of others to whom his fine abilities were no mystery. But his days were numbered. In the month of July, 1789, while finishing a portrait of Lady Hertford, he was aware of a sudden loss of sight in his left eye; and, laying down his pencil for the last time, he sat for a while in sad and pensive reflection. Goldsmith had already been laid at rest in the Temple Church; the eyes of Burke had overflowed with tears, and his voice faltered by the death-bed of Johnson; and the immortal painter was ere long to follow. He in a short time altogether lost the sight of his left eye, and determined to paint no more; yet under this affliction he strove to appear happy, cheerful, and resigned. His illness was borne with much fortitude, and whatever he had to suffer was endured without complaint or irritability. He amused and diverted himself in his drawing-room by changing the position of his pictures, and exhibiting them to his friends. Besides, like some imprisoned knight of old, he took a fanciful liking for a little bird, which became so tame and docile that it perched on his hand, while he fed and talked to it almost as he would have done to a human being. At length, one bright summer morning, the feathered warbler made its escape by an open window; and Sir On the occasion of the gold medals being bestowed on the students of the Academy in 1790, Sir Joshua went thither for the last time, with all due pomp and circumstance, to deliver an address. With unabated admiration, he recalled to their memory the triumphs achieved by the genius of his great idol, and concluded by earnestly desiring that the last words he should pronounce from the presidential chair might be the name of Michael Angelo. The crowd being unusually large, a beam in the floor gave way with a loud crash. All rushed to the door, stumbling over each other, except the venerable president, who remained silent, composed, and dignified. Fortunately no damage was done, and the proceedings were resumed. Sir Joshua offered to the Royal Academy his collection of paintings by the great masters at a low price. But, much to his mortification and amazement, his proposal was declined; and he exhibited them publicly in the Haymarket for the benefit of his servant Ralph. This transaction gave rise to the suspicion that Reynolds shared in the profits; and two lines of Butler— “A squire he had whose name was Ralph, Who in the adventure went one-half,”— were applied with audacious and merciless malevolence. |