whimsical employment, and acknowledged that his boyish sport with the
dog suggested the stanza.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
When Dr. Goldsmith published his Deserted Village, he dedicated it to
Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the following kind and touching manner. “The
only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him
better than most other men; he is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this
poem to you.”
GOLDSMITH’S “RETALIATION.”
At a festive meeting, where Johnson, Reynolds, Burke, Garrick, Douglas,
and Goldsmith, were conspicuous, the idea of composing a set of
extempore epitaphs on one another was started. Garrick offended
Goldsmith so much by two very indifferent lines of waggery, that the
latter avenged himself by composing the celebrated poem Retaliation, in
which he exhibits the characters of his companions with great liveliness
and talent. The lines have a melancholy interest, from being the last
the author wrote. The character of Sir Joshua Reynolds is drawn with
discrimination and judgment--a little flattered, resembling his own
portraits, in which the features are a little softened, and the
expression a little elevated.
“Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,
He has not left a wiser or better 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.”
POPE A PAINTER.
Reynolds was a great admirer of Pope. A fan which the poet presented to
Martha Blount, and on which he had painted with his own hand the story
of Cephalus and Procris, with the motto “Aura Veni,” was to be sold at
auction. Reynolds sent a messenger to bid for it as far as thirty
guineas, but it was knocked down for two pounds. “See,” said the
president to his pupils, who gathered around him, “the painting of
Pope;--this must always be the case, when the work is taken up for
idleness, and is laid aside when it ceases to amuse; it is like the
work of one who paints only for amusement. Those who are resolved to
excel, must go to their work, willing or unwilling, morning, noon, and
night; they will find it to be no play, but very hard labor.”
REYNOLDS’ FIRST ATTEMPTS IN ART.
This excellent painter, in his boyhood, showed his natural taste for
painting, by copying the various prints that fell in his way. His
father, a clergyman, thought this an idle passion, which ought not to be
encouraged; he esteemed one of these youthful performances worthy of his
endorsement, and he wrote underneath it, “Done by Joshua out of pure
idleness.” The drawing is still preserved in the family.
Dr. Johnson says that Sir Joshua Reynolds had his first fondness of the
art excited by the perusal of Richardson’s Treatise on Painting.
THE FORCE OF HABIT.
Portraits in the time of Hudson, the master of Reynolds, were usually
painted in one attitude--one hand in the waistcoat, and the hat under
the arm. A gentleman whose portrait young Reynolds painted, desired to
have his hat on his head. The picture was quickly despatched and sent
home, when it was discovered that it had two hats, one on the head, and
another under the arm!
PAYING THE PIPER.
“What do you ask for this sketch?” said Reynolds to a dealer in old
pictures and prints, as he was looking over his portfolio. The shrewd
tradesman, observing from his manner that he had found a gem, quickly
replied, “Twenty guineas, your honor.” “Twenty pence, I suppose you
mean.” “No, sir; it is true I would have sold it for twenty pence this
morning; but if you think it worth having, all the world will think it
worth buying.” Sir Joshua gave him his price. It was an exquisite
drawing by Rubens.
REYNOLDS’ MODESTY.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, like many other distinguished artists, was never
satisfied with his works, and endeavored to practice his maxim, that “an
artist should endeavor to improve over his every performance.” When an
eminent French painter was one day praising the excellence of one of his
pictures, he said, “_Ah! Monsieur, Je ne fais que des ebauches, des
ebauches._”--Alas! sir, I can only make sketches, sketches.
REYNOLDS’ GENEROSITY.
Sir Joshua Reynolds has been charged by his enemies with avarice; but
there are many instances recorded which show that he possessed a noble
and generous heart.
When Gainsborough charged him but sixty guineas for his celebrated
picture of the Girl and Pigs, Reynolds, conscious that it was worth much
more, gave him one hundred. Hearing that a worthy artist with a large
family was in distress, and threatened with arrest, he paid him a visit,
and learning that the extent of his debts was but forty pounds, he shook
him warmly by the hand as he took his leave, and the artist was
astonished to find in his fingers a bank-note of one hundred pounds.
When Dayes, an artist of merit, showed him his drawings of a Royal
pageant at St. Paul’s, Reynolds complimented him, and said that he had
bestowed so much labor upon them that he could not be remunerated by
selling them, but told him that if he would publish them he would loan
him the necessary funds, and engage to get him a handsome subscription
among the nobility.
REYNOLDS’ LOVE OF HIS ART.
Reynolds was an ardent lover of his profession, and ever as ready to
defend it when assailed, as to add to its honors by his pencil. When Dr.
Tucker, the famous Dean of Gloucester, in his discourse before the
Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce,
asserted that “a pin-maker was a more valuable member of society than
Raffaelle,” Reynolds was greatly nettled, and said, with some asperity,
“This is an observation of a very narrow mind; a mind that is confined
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 the means, not the end
of happiness or pleasure; the end is a rational enjoyment by means of
arts and sciences. It is therefore the highest degree of folly to set
the means in a higher rank of esteem than the end. It is as much as to
say that the brick-maker is superior to the architect.” He might have
added that the artisan is indebted to the artist for the design of every
beautiful fabric, therefore the artist is a more “valuable member of
society” than the manufacturer or the merchant.
REYNOLDS’ CRITICISM ON RUBENS.
When Sir Joshua Reynolds made his first tour to Flanders and Holland, he
was struck with the brilliancy of coloring which appeared in the works
of Rubens, and on his return he said that his own works were deficient
in force, in comparison with what he had seen. “On his return from his
second tour,” says Sir George Beaumont, “he observed to me that the
pictures of Rubens appeared much less brilliant than they had done on
the former inspection. He could not for some time account for this
circumstance; but when he recollected that when he first saw them he had
his note-book in his hand, for the purpose of writing down short
remarks, he perceived what had occasioned their now making a less
impression than they had done formerly. By the eye passing immediately
from the white paper to the picture, the colors derived uncommon
richness and warmth; but for want of this foil they afterwards appeared
comparatively cold.”
REYNOLDS AND HAYDN’S PORTRAIT.
When Haydn, the eminent composer, was in England, one of the princes
commissioned Reynolds to paint his portrait. Haydn sat twice, but he
soon grew tired, and Reynolds finding he could make nothing out of his
“stupid countenance,” communicated the circumstance to his royal
highness, who contrived the following stratagem to rouse him. He sent to
the painter’s house a beautiful German girl, in the service of the
queen. Haydn took his seat, for the third time, and as soon as the
conversation began to flag, a curtain rose, and the fair German
addressed him in his native language with a most elegant compliment.
Haydn, delighted, overwhelmed the enchantress with questions; and
Reynolds, rapidly transferring to the canvass his features thus lit up,
produced an admirable likeness.
RUBENS’ LAST SUPPER.
Sir Joshua Reynolds relates the following anecdote, in his “Journey to
Flanders and Holland.” He stopped at Mechlin to see the celebrated
altar-piece by Rubens in the cathedral, representing the Last Supper.
After describing the picture, he proceeds:--
“There is a circumstance belonging to the altar-piece, which may be
worth relating, as it shows Rubens’ manner of proceeding in large works.
The person who bespoke this picture, a citizen of Mechlin, desired, to
avoid the danger of carriage, that it might be painted at Mechlin; to
this the painter easily consented, as it was very near his country-seat
at Steen. Rubens, having finished his sketch in colors, gave it as usual
to one of his scholars, (Van Egmont) and sent him to Mechlin to
dead-color from it the great picture. The gentleman, seeing this
proceeding, complained that he bespoke a picture of the hand of the
master, not of the scholar, and stopped the pupil in his progress.
However, 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 inferior genius transpire through Rubens’
touches.”
REYNOLDS’ SKILL IN COMPLIMENTS.
When he painted the portrait of Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, he
wrought his name on the border of her robe. The great actress,
conceiving it to be a piece of classic embroidery, went near to examine
it, and seeing the words, smiled. The artist bowed, and said, “I could
not lose this opportunity of sending my name to posterity on the hem of
your garment.”
EXCELLENT ADVICE.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his letter to Barry, observes, “Whoever has
great views, I would recommend to him, whilst at Rome, rather to live on
bread and water, than lose advantages which he can never hope to enjoy a
second time, and which he will find only in the Vatican.”
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS AND HIS PORTRAITS.
When Sir Joshua was elected mayor of Plympton, his native town, he
painted an admirable portrait of himself and presented it to the mayor
and corporation, and it now hangs in the town-hall. When he sent the
picture, he wrote to his friend Sir Wm. Elford, requesting him to put it
in a good light, which he did, and to set it off he placed by its side,
what he considered to be a bad picture. When Sir William communicated to
Reynolds what he had done in order that the excellence of his picture
might have a more striking effect, the latter wrote his worthy friend
that he was greatly obliged to him for his pains, but that the portrait
he so much despised was painted by himself in early life.
REYNOLDS’ FLAG.
In the year 1770, a boy named Buckingham, presuming upon his father’s
acquaintance with Sir Joshua Reynolds, called on the president, and
asked him if he would have the kindness to paint him a flag to carry in
the procession of the next breaking up of the school. Reynolds, whose
every hour was worth guineas, smiled, and told the lad to call again at
a certain time, and he would see what could be done for him. The boy
accordingly called at the set time, and was presented with an elegant
flag a yard square, decorated with the King’s coat of arms. The flag was
triumphantly carried in procession, an honor as well as a delight to the
boys, and a still greater honor to him who painted it, and gave his
valuable time to promote their holiday amusements.
BURKE’S EULOGY.
Burke, in his eulogy on Reynolds, says, “In full affluence of foreign
and domestic fame, admired 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
candor never forsook him, even on surprise 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.”
REYNOLDS’ ESTIMATE AND USE OF OLD PAINTINGS.
He was fond of seeking into the secrets of the old painters; and
_dissected_ some of their performances, to ascertain their mode of
laying on color and finishing with effect. Titian he conceived to be the
great master spirit in portraiture; and no enthusiastic ever sought more
incessantly for the secret of the philosopher’s stone than did Reynolds
to possess himself of the whole theory and practice of the Venetian. “To
possess,” said he, “a real fine picture by that great master--I would
sell all my gallery--I would willingly ruin myself.” The capital old
paintings of the Venetian school destroyed by Sir Joshua’s _dissections_
were not few; and his experiments of this kind can only properly be
likened to that of the boy who cut open the bellows to get at the wind!
He was ignorant of chemistry, so much so that he sometimes employed
mineral colors that reacted in a short time; and also vegetable colors;
and he mixed with these various vehicles, as megilips and different
kinds of varnishes or glazes, so that he had the misfortune of seeing
some of his finest works change and lose all their harmony, or become
cracked with unsightly seams. He kept his system of coloring a profound
secret. He lived to regret these experiments, and would never permit his
pupils to practice them. His method has been largely imitated, not only
in England, but in the United States, greatly to the injury of many
fine works and the reputation of the artist. The only true method for
excellence and permanence in coloring, is that employed by the great
Italian masters, viz: to use well prepared and seasoned canvass; then to
lay on a good heavy body-color; to employ only the best mineral colors,
which will not chemically react, giving the colors time to harden after
laying on each successive coat; and above all, to use no varnishes in
the process, nor after the completion of the work, till it is
sufficiently hardened by age.
THE INFLUENCE OF THE INQUISITION UPON SPANISH PAINTING.
A strong and enthusiastic feeling of a religious character has often
inspired the Fine Arts: we owe to such sentiments the finest and purest
productions of modern painting. Progress in art, however, implies the
study of nature; the study of nature and the exhibition of its results
have continually shocked the rigid asceticism of a severe morality--a
morality which makes indecency depend on the simple fact of exposure,
not on the feeling in which the work is conceived. Scrupulous persons
often appear unconscious that in this, as in other things, it is easy to
observe the letter, and to violate the spirit. A picture or statue may
be perfectly decent, so far as regards drapery, and yet suggest thoughts
and ideas far more objectionable than those resulting from the
contemplation of figures wholly unclothed. Still, it must be admitted
that such a jealousy of the fine arts might reasonably exist in Italy
at the end of the 15th, and the beginning of the 16th centuries, in the
days of Alexander VI., Julius II., and Leo X.; when all the abominations
of heathenism prevailed at Rome in practice, and when Christianity can
hardly be said to have existed more than in theory. It would have been
strange, amidst such universal depravity, that Art should escape
unsullied by the general pollution. Still, it was against the _abuses_
of art that the efforts of the Catholic church under Paul IV. were
directed; and while those efforts gave a somewhat different character to
the subjects and to their treatment in later schools, they cannot be
said to have acted on either Painting or Sculpture with any _repressive_
force.
But in Spain the case was wholly different. There was no transient
insurrection of a purer morality against the vicious extravagancies of a
particular period, but a constant and uniform pressure exerted without
intermission on all the means of developing and cultivating the human
mind, or of imparting its sentiments to others. Painting and Sculpture
came in for their share of restriction, and the nature of the discipline
to which they were subjected may be gathered from the work of Pacheco,
(_Arte de la Pintura_) who was appointed in 1618, by a particular
commission from the Inquisition, “to denounce the errors committed in
pictures of sacred subjects through the ignorance or wickedness of
artists.” He was commissioned to “take particular care to visit and
inspect the paintings of sacred subjects which may stand in the public
places of Seville, and if anything objectionable appeared in them, to
take them before the Inquisition.” His rules, therefore, may properly be
received as a fair exponent of the strictures placed upon Art by the
Inquisition. In his work upon the Art of Painting, Pacheco censures the
nudity of the figures in Michael Angelo’s Last Judgment, as well as
other things. Thus he says: “As to placing the damned in the air,
fighting as they are one with another, and pulling against the devils,
when it is matter of faith that they must want the free gifts of glory,
and cannot, therefore, possess the requisite lightness or agility--the
impropriety of this mode of exhibiting them is self-evident. With
regard, again, to the angels without wings and the saints without
clothes, although the former do not possess the one and the latter will
not have the other, yet, as angels without wings are unknown to us, and
our eyes do not allow us to see the saints without clothes, as we shall
hereafter--there can be no doubt, that this again is improper. It is
moreover, highly indecent and improper, having regard to their nature,
to paint angels with beards.”
On the general question of how an artist is to acquire sufficient skill
in the figure, without exposing himself to risks which the Inspector of
the Inquisition is bound to deprecate, Pacheco is somewhat embarrassed.
“I seem,” he says, “to hear some one asking me, ‘Senor Painter,
scrupulous as you are, whilst you place before us the ancient artists
as examples, who contemplated the figures of naked women in order to
imitate them perfectly, and whilst you charge us to paint as well, what
resource do you afford us?’ I would answer, ‘Senor Licentiate, this is
what I would do; I would paint the faces and hands from nature, with the
requisite beauty and variety, after women of good character; in which,
in my opinion, there is no danger. With regard to the other parts, I
would avail myself of good pictures, engravings, drawings, models,
ancient and modern statues, and the excellent designs of Albert Durer,
so that I might choose what was most graceful and best composed without
running into danger.’” So it appears that they might profit by the works
of other sinners, without incurring the same danger.
Notwithstanding this advice, as the Inquisition always persecuted
nudity, Spain was deficient in models from the antique; wherefore
Velasquez, the head of the Spanish school, never designed an exquisite
figure; and the collection of models and casts which he made in Italy,
late in life, was allowed to go to destruction after his death!
In discussing the proper mode of painting the Nativity of Christ,
Pacheco says he is always much affected at seeing the infant Jesus
represented naked in the arms of his mother! The impropriety of this, he
urges, is shown by the consideration that “St. Joseph had an office,
and it was not possible that poverty could have obliged him to forego
those comforts for his child, which scarcely the meanest beggars are
without.” Another fertile subject of dispute among the Spanish artists
and theologians, was the number of nails used in the Crucifixion, some
arguing for three, and some for four, and drawing their proofs on either
side from the vision of some saint!
The precepts as to the proper modes of painting the Virgin, are
innumerable. The greatest caution against any approach to nudity is of
course requisite. Nay, Pacheco says, “What can be more foreign from the
respect which we owe to the purity of Our Lady the Virgin, than to paint
her sitting down, with one of her knees placed over the other, and often
with her sacred feet uncovered and naked?” We scarcely ever, therefore,
see the feet of the Virgin in Spanish pictures. Carducho speaks more
particularly on the impropriety of painting the Virgin unshod, since it
is manifest that she was in the habit of wearing shoes, as is proved by
“the much venerated relic of one of them, from her divine feet, in the
Cathedral of Burgos!”
A painter had a penance inflicted on him at Cordova, for painting the
Virgin at the foot of the Cross in a hooped petticoat, pointed boddice,
and a saffron-colored head-dress; St. John had pantaloons, and a doublet
with points. This chastisement Pacheco considers richly deserved. Don
Luis Pasqual also erred greatly, in his Marriage of the Virgin,
representing her without any mantle, in a Venetian petticoat, fitting
very close in the waist, covered with knots of colored ribbon, and with
wide round sleeves,--“a dress,” adds Pacheco, “in my opinion highly
unbecoming the gravity and dignity of our Sovereign Lady.” Nor were
there wanting awful examples of warning to painters, as in the story
related by Martin de Roa, in his _State of Souls in Purgatory_. “A
painter,” so runs the legend, “had executed in youth, at the request of
a gentleman, an improper picture. After the painter’s death, this
picture was laid to his charge, and it was only by the intercession of
those Saints whom he had at various times painted, that he got off with
severe torments in Purgatory. Whilst there, however, he contrived to
appear to his confessor, and prevailed upon him to go to the gentleman
for whom this picture was painted, and entreat him to burn it. The
request was complied with, and the painter then got out of Purgatory!”
The author cannot close this too lengthy article without citing the Life
of the Virgin written by Maria de Agreda, whose absurd and blasphemous
vagaries were “swallowed whole” by the Spanish nation--an unanswerable
proof and a fitting result of the blight inflicted by Jesuitism and the
Inquisition. Bayle says, “the only wonder is, that the Sorbonne confined
itself to saying that her proposition was false, rash, and contrary to
the doctrines of the Gospel, when she taught that God gave the Virgin
all he could, and that he could give her all his own attributes, except
the essence of the Godhead.” The condemnation of Maria de Agreda’s Life
of the Virgin was not carried in the Sorbonne without the greatest
opposition and tumult. The book was censured at Rome, notwithstanding
all the efforts of the Spanish ambassador. The Spanish feeling, with
reference to the Virgin, and more particularly to the doctrine of the
Immaculate Conception, went far beyond the rest of Papal Europe; it was
impossible for the Pope and the French Church to sanction at once the
absurdities that Spain was quite ready to adopt. (See Sir Edmund Head’s
Hand-Book of the History of the Spanish and French Schools of Painting.)
A MELANCHOLY PICTURE OF THE STATE OF THE FINE ARTS IN SPAIN.