The Society of Arts--Its Foundation--Its Removal to the Adelphi in
1774--James Barry and his Famous Paintings--Visited in John Street by
Burke and Johnson--The Latter's opinion of his Genius--Description
of his Pictures for the Society--The Work of the Society--"Spot"
Ward, the Inventor of "Friar's Balsam"--Johnson speaks in the Great
Room--Forsaken by his "Flowers of Oratory."
INSEPARABLY connected with the romance of the Adelphi, and very
interesting on its own account, is the history of the Society of
Arts, with its memories, not only of painters, but of Johnson and
other celebrities. The Society owes its origin to William Shipley
(1714-1803), a drawing-master of Northampton, and brother of Jonathan
Shipley, Bishop of St Asaph, the friend of Benjamin Franklin. It
was established at a meeting held on March 22, 1754, at Rawthmell's
Coffee-house, in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. Its first president
was Jacob, Lord Viscount Folkestone. Its complete designation is "The
Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce."
Smollett, in his _History of England_ (1757), says, somewhat
grandiloquently: "The Society is so numerous, the contributions
so considerable, the plan so judiciously laid, and executed with
such discretion and spirit as to promise much more effectual and
extensive advantage to the public than ever accrued from all the
boasted academies of Christendom." The Society had various homes
prior to settling in the Adelphi. Its first meetings were held over a
circulating library in Crane's Court, Fleet Street. A move was made
westward to Craig's Court, Charing Cross, and from there the Society
went to the Strand, in rooms opposite the New Exchange, and, in 1759,
to apartments in Beaufort Buildings, Savoy.
In 1771, the brothers Adam entered into an agreement with the Society
for the erection of "a proper building in the Adelphi for the use
of the Society and the accommodation of its officers." The first
stone was laid by Lord Romney, on March 28, 1772, and the building
was opened in 1774. The Great Room, in which are the six famous
pictures painted by James Barry, R.A. (1741-1806), between the years
1777 and 1783, is 44 feet in width, 60 feet in depth, and 48 feet in
height. The painting of these celebrated pictures is one of the most
extraordinary episodes in the history of art. In 1774, the Society of
Arts suggested to certain members of the Royal Academy--then newly
instituted--that they should paint the interior of the Great Room,
and that they should be reimbursed by the public exhibition of the
completed works. This proposition was rejected by the academicians, at
whose head was Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Barry, as a member, refused the
offer. Three years later, however, Barry, having but sixteen shillings
in his pocket, applied for permission to execute the work, unaided,
and without remuneration. The Society's housekeeper told Benjamin
Haydon, the historical painter (1786-1846), that she remembered Barry
at work on his frescoes. His violence, she said, was dreadful, his
oaths were horrid, and his temper was like insanity. In summer, he
started painting at five o'clock, worked until dark, and then etched by
lamp-light until eleven at night. Burke and Johnson called once. But no
artist dared to brave his wrath. He had his tea boiled in a quart pot,
dined on porridge, and drank milk for supper. So poor was the painter
that he applied, but in vain, to the Society for a little money, and
"an insolent secretary even objected to his charge for colours and
models." Subsequently, the Society relented and advanced the artist
a hundred pounds. The Society "afterwards indulged him with two
exhibitions of his paintings, in 1783 and 1784, which brought him £503,
12s., the Society paying the cost of the exhibitions, which amounted
to £174." He was also "rewarded" by the Society with a gold medal. But
he had other, and, perhaps, more pleasing recognitions of his talent.
That sturdy traveller and philanthropist, Jonas Hanway (1712-1786),
came to one of the exhibitions, and the pioneer of the umbrella was so
pleased that he insisted upon leaving a guinea instead of the customary
shilling. The Prince of Wales gave Barry sittings, and Lord Aldborough
declared that the painter had "surpassed Raphael." Lord Romney gave
him a hundred guineas for a copy of the heads, and Dr Johnson thought
highly of Barry's imaginative powers. "Whatever the hand may have
done," he said to Boswell, "the mind has done its part. There is a
grasp of mind there which you find nowhere else." Poor, neglected, and
half-mad, Barry died at the age of sixty-five. His body lay in state in
the Great Room on March 7. He was buried in St Paul's.
Some sixty years ago, said a writer towards the middle of the last
century, there might have been seen daily passing in a direction
between Oxford Street and the Adelphi, for years together, and
through all kinds of weather, one whose appearance told, to even the
most casual observer, he looked upon a remarkable man. Referring to
himself, in one of his letters to a friend, Barry had once said,
"Though the body and the soul of a picture will discover themselves
on the slightest glance, yet you know it could not be the same with
such a pock-fretted, hard-featured little fellow as I am also"; but
neither these personal characteristics, nor the mean garb in which
he usually appeared, could conceal the earnestness stamped upon his
grave, saturnine countenance, or the air of entire absorption in
some mental pursuit, having little in common with the bustle of the
everyday business of the world around him. He was a man to make or to
keep few friends, and to shun all acquaintances; it was not often,
therefore, that, in these passages to and fro, he had any companion;
but the event was noticeable when he had, from the striking change in
his demeanour. He became full of animation, and of a kind of sparkling
cheerfulness; his conversation was at once frank, weighty, and
elevating, and even the oaths, with which he made somewhat free, could
not spoil the delight of the most fastidious censor of words, whilst
borne along on the full and free current of the painter's thoughts.
No one but himself at such times would have called his countenance
"hard-featured"; its smile was inexpressibly sweet, its look of scorn
or anger, when roused, such as few men could have met unmoved. But
what was the employment that thus determined for so long a period his
daily movements? The answer will require a brief review of his past
career. Whilst a young student at Rome, Barry, annoyed by the absurd
taunts of foreigners as to the ungenial character of the British
soil for the growth of art, was often seduced into answering them in
such a manner as suited rather his fiery temper and indomitable will
than the cause which he so impatiently espoused. But a better result
was his own quiet determination to devote his life to the disproof
of the theory. He began admirably, by a strict analysis of his own
powers, and by inquiring how they were best to be developed. Here is
the result: "If I should chance to have genius, or anything else," he
observes, in a letter to a friend, "it is so much the better; but my
hopes are grounded upon an unwearied, intense application, of which
I am not sparing. At present I have little to show that I value; my
work is all underground digging and laying foundations, which, with
God's assistance, I may hereafter find the use of. I every day centre
more and more upon the art; I give myself totally to it; and except
honour and conscience, am determined to renounce everything else." But
the writer was without a shilling in the world to call his own; and
although he had friends, the best of friends, as they were--one of them
at least, Burke, the best of men--he had already received from them
the entire means of subsistence while he had been studying so long at
Rome, and was determined, therefore, to be no longer a burden to them
or to others; but how should he, renouncing all ordinary blandishments
of a young painter's career, the "face-painting" and other methods by
which genius condescends to become fashionable, or, in other words,
to lay down its immortality for the pleasure of being acknowledged
immortal--how was he to subsist? It was whilst this question remained,
we may suppose, not decisively answered, that the painter thus wrote
to another friend:--"O, I could be happy, in my going home, to find
some corner where I could sit down in the middle of my studies, books,
and casts after the antique, to paint this work and others, where I
might have models of nature, when necessary, bread and soup, and a
coat to cover me! I should care not what became of my work when it
was done; but I reflect with horror upon such a fellow as I am, and
with such a kind of art in London, with house-rent to pay, duns to
follow me, and employers to look for. Had I studied art in a manner
more accommodated to the nation, there would be no dread of this." But
from this state of despondency and dissatisfaction he was soon to rise
triumphant. Again and again he asked himself how he was to subsist
while the great things he meditated should be accomplished, and the
answer came: the conclusion was anything but attractive or cheering,
but he saw it was the conclusion: no cross, no crown; and he accepted
it ungrudgingly. It was not long before he could say, "I have taken
great pains to fashion myself to this kind of Quixotism; to this end I
have contracted and simplified my cravings and wants, and brought them
into a very narrow compass." There are few, we think, of those who may
have smiled with pity or contempt at the painter's mean garb, who would
not have honoured it while they reverenced him, had they known this.
The first apparent opportunity of achieving the object indicated was in
connection with the proposed decoration of St Paul's.[28] But this fell
through, and it was not until the Society of Arts accepted his offer
that he was able to bring himself into line with his own convictions.
[Illustration:
_Nathaniel Smith._ 1790.
THE STRAND ENTRANCE TO DURHAM YARD.]
"Let us now ascend the stairs to the first floor, passing through the
little ante-room where the alto-relievos of Bacon and Nollekens are
mounted high upon the walls, and beneath the portrait of the founder
of the Society, which appropriately hangs over the door of the great
room, where the painter's works are to be found. The first glance shows
us in one way the magnitude of the undertaking; the upper portion
of the walls of the whole of the noble room, or hall, as it should
rather be called, is covered by the six paintings of which the series
consists; as we step from one to another, we perceive that these large
spaces have been wrought upon in a large spirit; and a still closer
examination opens to our view, pictures of surpassing beauty and
grandeur, and scarcely less remarkable as a whole for the successful
manner in which they have been executed than for the daring originality
of their conception."
Barry's six pictures for the Society of Arts were designed on dignified
and important subjects, so connected as to illustrate this great
maxim of moral truth: "That the attainment of happiness, individual
as well as public, depends on the development, proper cultivation,
and perfection of the human faculties, physical and moral, which are
as well calculated to lead human nature to its true rank and the
glorious designation assigned for it by Providence." To illustrate this
doctrine, the first picture exhibits mankind in a savage state, exposed
to all the inconvenience and misery of neglected culture; the second
represents a Harvest Home, or thanksgiving, to Ceres and Bacchus; the
third, the victors at Olympia; the fourth, Navigation, or the Triumph
of the Thames; the fifth, the Distribution of Rewards by the Society;
and the sixth, Elysium, or the state of final Retribution. Three of
these subjects are truly poetical, the others historical. The pictures
are all of the same height, viz., eleven feet ten inches; and the
first, second, fourth, and fifth are fifteen feet two inches long; the
third and sixth, which occupy the whole breadth of the room, at the
north and south ends, are each forty-two feet long.
_The Thames._--Personified and represented, of a venerable, majestic
and gracious aspect, sitting on the waters in a triumphal car, steering
himself with one hand, and holding in the other the mariner's compass.
The car is borne along by our great navigators, Sir Francis Drake,
Sir Walter Raleigh, Sebastian Cabot, and the late Captain Cook. In
the front of the car, and apparently in the action of meeting it,
are four figures, representing Europe, Asia, Africa, and America,
ready to lay their several productions in the lap of the Thames. The
supplicating action of the poor negro slave--or, more properly, of
enslaved Africa--the cord round his neck, the tear on his cheek, the
iron manacles and attached heavy chain on his wrists, with his hands
clasped and stretched out for mercy, denote the agonies of his soul,
and the feelings of the artist thus expressed, before the abolition
of slavery became the subject of public investigation. Overhead is
Mercury, the emblem of commerce, summoning the nations all together;
and following the car are Nereids carrying several articles of the
principal manufactures of Great Britain. In this scene of triumph and
joy the artist has introduced music, and, for this reason, placed
among the sea-nymphs his friend, Dr Burney. In the distance is a view
of the chalky cliffs on the English coast, with ships sailing, highly
characteristic of the commerce of this country, which the picture
is intended to record. In the end of this picture, next the chimney,
there is a naval pillar, mausoleum, observatory, light-house, or all of
these, they being all comprehended in the same structure.
In this important object, so ingeniously produced by the sea-gods,
we have at last obtained the happy concurrence and union of so many
important desiderata in that opportunity of convenient inspection of
all the sculptured communications, the want of which had been so deeply
regretted by all who had seen the Trajan and Antonine columns, and
other celebrated remains of antiquity.
_The Society._--This picture represents the distribution of the Rewards
of the Society. Not far advanced from the left side of the picture
stands the late Lord Romney, then president of the Society, habited in
the robes of his dignity: near the president stands His Royal Highness
the Prince of Wales; and sitting at the corner of the picture, holding
in his hand the instrument of the institution, is Mr William Shipley,
"whose public spirit gave rise to this Society." One of the farmers,
who are producing specimens of grain to the president, is Arthur Young,
Esq. Near him Mr More, the late secretary. On the right hand of the
late Lord Romney stands the present Earl of Romney, then V.P., and on
the left the late Owen Salusbury Brereton, Esq., V.P.[29] Towards the
centre of the picture is seen that distinguished example of female
excellence, Mrs Montague, who long honoured the Society with her name
and subscription. She appears recommending the ingenuity and industry
of a young female, whose work she is producing. Near her are placed the
late Duchess of Northumberland; the present Duke of Northumberland,
V.P.; the late Joshua Steele, Esq., V.P.; Dr Hurd, Bishop of Worcester;
Soame Jennings and James Harris, Esqrs.; and the two duchesses of
Rutland and Devonshire. Between these ladies, the late Dr Samuel
Johnson seems pointing out the example of Mrs Montague to their Graces'
attention and imitation. Further advanced is His Grace the late Duke
of Richmond, V.P., and the late Edmund Burke, Esq. Still nearer the
right-hand side of the picture is the late Edward Hooper, Esq., V.P.,
and the late Keane Fitzgerald, Esqrs., V.P.; His Grace the late Duke
of Northumberland, V.P.; the Earl of Radnor, V.P., William Lock,
Esq., and Dr William Hunter are examining some drawings by a youth,
to whom a premium has been adjudged: behind him is another youth,
in whose countenance the dejection he feels at being disappointed
in his expectation of a reward is finely expressed. Near the right
side of the piece are seen the late Lord Viscount Folkestone, first
president of this Society; his son, the late Earl Radnor, V.P.; and Dr
Stephen Hales, V.P. In the background appear part of the water-front
of Somerset House, St Paul's, and other objects in the vicinity and
view of this Society, as instituted at London. And as a very large
part of the rewards bestowed by the Society have been distributed to
promote the polite arts of painting and sculpture, the artist has also
most judiciously introduced a picture and statue. The subject of the
picture is the Fall of Lucifer, designed by Mr Barry, when the Royal
Academy had selected six of the members to paint pictures for St Paul's
Cathedral; the statue is that of the Grecian mother dying, and in those
moments attentive only to the safety of her child. In the corners of
the picture are represented many articles which have been invented or
improved by the encouragement of this Society. In the lower corner
of this picture, next the chimney, are introduced two large models
intended by Mr Barry as improvements of medals and coins.
[Illustration: IVY LANE, STRAND (THE BOUNDARY OF THE DUCHY OF LANCASTER
AND THE CITY OF WESTMINSTER).]
_Elysium, or the State of Final Retribution._--In this sublime picture,
which occupies the whole length of the room, the artist has, with
wonderful sagacity, and without any of those anachronisms which tarnish
the lustre of other very celebrated performances, brought together
those great and good men of all ages and nations, who have acted as the
cultivators and benefactors of mankind. This picture is separated from
that of the Society distributing its rewards by palm trees; near which,
on a pedestal, sits a pelican, feeding its young with its own blood, a
happy type of those personages represented in the picture, who had worn
themselves out in the service of mankind. Behind the palms, near the
top of the picture, are indistinctly seen, as immersed and lost in a
great blaze of light, cherubims veiled with their wings, in the act of
adoration, and offering incense to that invisible and incomprehensible
Power which is above them, and out of the picture, from whence the
light and glory proceed and are diffused over the whole piece. By thus
introducing the idea of the Divine essence, by effect rather than by
form, the absurdity committed by many painters is happily avoided,
and the mind of every intelligent spectator is filled with awe and
reverence.
The groups of female figures, which appear at a further distance
absorbed in glory, are those characters of female excellence, whose
social conduct, benevolence, affectionate friendship, and regular
discharge of domestic duties, soften the cares of human life, and
diffuse happiness around them. In the more advanced part, just
bordering on the blaze of light (where the female figures are almost
absorbed) is introduced a group of poor native West Indian females, in
the act of adoration, preceded by angels, burning incense, and followed
by their good bishop, his face partly concealed by that energetic hand
which holds his crozier, or pastoral staff--who may, notwithstanding
the word Chiapa, inscribed on the front of his mitre, be identified
with the glorious friar Bartolomeo de las Casas, bishop of that place.
This matter of friendly intercourse, continued beyond life, is pushed
still further in the more advanced part of the same group by the male
adoring Americans and some Dominican friars, where the very graceful
incident occurs of one of these Dominicans directing the attention of
an astonished Caribb to some circumstance of beatitude, the enjoyment
of which he had promised to his Caribb friend. The group below on
the left hand in this picture consists of Roger Bacon, Archimedes,
Descartes, and Thales; behind them stand Sir Francis Bacon, Copernicus,
Galileo, and Sir Isaac Newton, regarding with awe and admiration a
solar system, which two angels are unveiling and explaining to them.
Near the inferior angel, who is holding the veil, is Columbus, with a
chart of his voyage; and close to him Epaminondas, with his shield;
Socrates, Cato the younger, the elder Brutus, and Sir Thomas More; a
sextumbriate to which, Swift says, all ages have not been able to add
a seventh. Behind Marcus Brutus is William Molyneux, holding his book
of the case of Ireland; near Columbus is Lord Shaftesbury, John Locke,
Zeno, Aristotle, and Plato; and, in the opening between this group and
the next, are Sir William Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of
the blood, and the honourable Robert Boyle.
The next group are legislators, where King Alfred the Great is leaning
on the shoulder of William Penn, who is showing his tolerant, pacific
code of equal laws to Lycurgus. Standing around them are Minos,
Trajan, Antoninus, Peter the Great of Russia, Edward the Black Prince,
Henry the Fourth of France, and Andrea Doria of Genoa. Here, too,
are introduced those patrons of genius, Lorenzo de Medici, Louis the
Fourteenth, Alexander the Great, Charles the First, Colbert, Leo the
Tenth, Francis the First, the Earl of Arundel, and the illustrious
monk Cassiodorus, no less admirable and exemplary as the secretary
of state than as the friar in his convent at Viviers, the plan of
which he holds in his hand. Just before this group, on the rocks
which separate Elysium from the infernal regions, are placed the
Angelic Guards; and in the most advanced part an archangel, weighing
attentively the virtues and vices of mankind, whose raised hand and
expressive countenance denote great concern at the preponderancy of
evil. Behind this figure is another angel, explaining to Pascal and
Bishop Butler the analogy between Nature and revealed Religion. The
figure behind Pascal and Butler, with his arms stretched out, and
advancing with so much energy, is that ornament of our latter age, the
graceful, the sublime Bossuet, Bishop of Meux. The uniting tendency of
the paper he holds in that hand, resting on the shoulder of Origen,
would well comport with those pacific views of the amiable Grotius, for
healing those discordant evils which are sapping the foundations of
Christianity amongst the nations of Europe, where in other respects it
would be, and even is, so happily and so well established.
Behind Francis the First and Lord Arundel are Hugo Grotius, Father
Paul, and Pope Adrian. Towards the top of the picture, and near the
centre, sits Homer; on his right hand, Milton; next him, Shakespeare,
Spenser, Chaucer, and Sappho. Behind Sappho sits Alcæus, who is
talking with Ossian; near him are Menander, Molière, Congreve, Bruma,
Confucius, Mango Capac, etc. etc. Next Homer, on the other side, is
Archbishop Fenelon, with Virgil leaning on his shoulder; and near them
are Tasso, Ariosto, and Dante. Behind Dante, Petrarca, Laura, Giovanni,
and Boccaccio.
In the second range of figures, over Edward the Black Prince and Peter
the Great, are Swift, Erasmus, Cervantes; near them Pope, Dryden,
Addison, Richardson, Moses Mendelssohn, and Hogarth. Behind Dryden and
Pope are Sterne, Gray, Goldsmith, Thomson, and Fielding; and near
Richardson, Inigo Jones, Sir Christopher Wren, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
and Vandyke. Next Vandyke is Rubens, with his hand on the shoulders of
Le Soeur, and behind him is Le Brun: next to these are Julio Romano,
Dominichino, and Annibal Caracci, who are in conversation with Phidias;
behind whom is Giles Hussey. Nicholas Poussin and the Sicyonian maid
are near them, with Callimachus and Pamphilius; near Appelles is
Corregio; behind Raphaello stand Michael Angelo and Leonardo da Vinci,
and behind them, Ghiberti, Donatello, Massachio, Brunaleschi, Albert
Dürer, Giotto, and Cimabue.
In the top of this part of the picture the painter has happily glanced
at what is called by astronomers the System of Systems, where the fixed
stars, considered as so many suns, each with his several planets,
are revolving round the Great Cause of all things; and representing
everything as affected by intelligence, has shown each system carried
along in its revolution by an angel. Though only a small portion of
this article can be seen, yet enough is shown to manifest the sublimity
of the idea.
In the other corner of the picture the artist has represented Tartarus,
where, among cataracts of fire and clouds of smoke, two large hands are
seen, one of them holding a fire-fork, the other pulling down a number
of figures bound together by serpenting War, Gluttony, Extravagance,
Detraction, Parsimony, and Ambition: and floating down the fiery gulf
are Tyranny, Hypocrisy, and Cruelty, with their proper attributes; the
whole of this excellent picture proving, in the most forcible manner,
the truth of that maxim which cannot be too often inculcated: "That
the attainment of man's true rank in the creation, and his present
and future happiness, individual as well as public, depended on the
cultivation and proper direction of the human faculties."[30]
In addition to the Barry pictures, there are, in the Council Room,
full-length portraits of the first president by Gainsborough, and of
the second president of the Society, Lord Romney, by Reynolds, together
with a portrait of Barry. Here, also, are portraits of the Prince
Consort (who was president from 1843 until his death in 1861), painted
by Horsley, and of the late Queen Victoria and the royal children,
painted by Cope. One of the first prizes of the Society was adjudged
to Richard Cosway, then a boy of twelve, and afterwards so eminent
as a portrait painter in oil and miniatures. But this was before the
Society had removed to the Adelphi. John Bacon, Joseph Nollekens, and
William Woollett, George Romney, John Flexman, J.M.W. Turner, Edwin
Landseer, William Mulready, J.E. Millais, and many other distinguished
artists were awarded premiums by the Society, which, says Mr Wheatley,
"has been active in promoting commercial and technical education by
means of examinations. Out of the technological examinations has grown
the wide-spreading action of the City and Guilds of London Technical
Institute. A large number of the chief questions of the day, such as
the amendment of the Patent Laws; the cheapening of letter, book, and
parcel postage; the improvement of musical education, etc., have been
dealt with by the Society in the form of discussion and by addresses
to the Government. Several conferences have also been held on sanitary
matters and on water supply.
The ordinary meetings are held on Wednesday evenings at 8 p.m., from
November to May, when papers are read and discussed on subjects
relating to arts, manufactures and commerce. There are also connected
with the Society three sections: 1. Indian; 2. Foreign and Colonial;
3. Applied Art. These hold meetings for the reading and discussion of
papers on their respective subjects on other days of the week. Courses
of lectures on popular subjects connected with arts and manufactures
are delivered on Monday evenings, and are styled Cantor Lectures, by
reason that they owe their origin to a bequest of the late Dr Cantor.
The Albert Medal, founded in honour of the Prince Consort, is awarded
annually to some eminent man who has distinguished himself by promoting
arts, manufactures, or commerce. The first award was to Sir Rowland
Hill in 1864, and the list of recipients forms a noble roll of great
men."[31] Her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, was awarded the Society's
medal in her jubilee year, 1887.
The notorious quack doctor Joshua Ward (1685-1761), who was caricatured
by Hogarth, allowed the Italian sculptor, Agostino Carlini, £100 a
year, so that he should work on his statue for life. The impudent
inventor of "Friar's Balsam" left this statue to the Society of Arts.
This quack, who was nicknamed "Spot" Ward, from a birth-mark on his
cheek, was the son of a London dry-salter. His skill was so extolled by
General Churchill and Lord Chief Baron Reynolds, that he was called in
to prescribe for George II. Despite his "remedies"--his famous "drop
and pill" was a dangerous compound of antimony--the King recovered,
and "Spot" Ward was solemnly voted the thanks of a credulous House of
Parliament and allowed the privilege of driving his carriage through
St James's Park. He tried to enter Parliament by fraud in 1717, and
fled to St Germain, where he maintained himself by his "universal
remedies." Pardoned in 1733, he had a wonderful career in London, and
amassed a fortune.
[Illustration:
_Gércault._
ENTRANCE TO THE ADELPHI ARCHES.]
One of the most interesting of the literary associations of the Adelphi
is connected, in tradition, with Oliver Goldsmith, and, as a matter of
fact, with Samuel Johnson, both of whom appeared before the Society
of Arts. "The great room of the Society now mentioned," says Andrew
Kippis, the Nonconformist divine and biographer, at the close of his
memoir of Gilbert Cooper, in the _Biographia Britannica_,[32] "was for
several years the place where many people chose to try, or to display,
their oratorical abilities. Dr Goldsmith, I remember, made an attempt
at a speech, but was obliged to sit down in confusion. I once heard
Doctor Johnson speak there, upon a subject relating to Mechanics, with
a propriety, perspicuity, and energy which excited general admiration."
On the other hand, we have the testimony of Boswell that Johnson did
not distinguish himself as a speaker in the Adelphi. "I remember that
it was observed by Mr Flood, that Johnson, having been long used to
sententious brevity and the short flights of conversation, might
have failed in that continued and expanded kind of argument which is
requisite in stating complicated matters in public speaking; and, as
a proof of this, he mentioned the supposed speeches in Parliament,
written by him for the magazine, none of which, in his opinion, were at
all like real debates. The opinion of one who was himself so eminent
an orator must be allowed to have great weight. It was confirmed by
Sir William Scott [Baron Stowell, the great Admiralty lawyer], who
mentioned that Johnson had told him that he had several times tried
to speak in the Society of Arts and Manufactures, but 'had found he
could not get on.' From Mr William Gerard Hamilton, I have heard that
Johnson, when observing to him that it was prudent for a man who had
not been accustomed to speak in public to begin his speech in as simple
a manner as possible, acknowledged that he rose in that Society to
deliver a speech which he had prepared; 'but,' said he, 'all my flowers
of oratory forsook me.'"
I am sorry to destroy a long-cherished illusion, but the worthy
Dr Kippis is in error in "remembering" Goldsmith attempting to
make a speech in "the great room" of the Society of Arts. This
room was not opened until 1774, and on April 4th of that year,
Goldsmith--unfortunately for the Kippis tradition--with a mind ill at
ease, departed life.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 28: J. Saunders, in Knight's _London_, vol. v., pp. 359-360.]
[Footnote 29: Owen Salusbury Brereton (1715-1798), antiquary; recorder
of Liverpool, 1742-98; vice-president, Society of Arts, 1765-98; M.P.
for Ilchester, 1775-80.]
[Footnote 30: The above descriptions of Barry's famous pictures in
the Adelphi are taken from Brayley's _Beauties of England and Wales,
Middlesex_, vol. iii., part ii., pp. 235-241.]
[Footnote 31: _London Past and Present_, vol. i., pp. 71-2.]
[Footnote 32: Vol. iv., p. 266.]