a rich brewer, and a man of parts, and his wife was one of the
brightest women of her day. Johnson was a constant visitor at their
house, and became at last, practically, a member of the family. The
Thrales's drawing-room at their Streatham villa was the scene of many
brilliant gatherings, where intellectual people met for conversation
and discussion. Johnson was the autocrat of this circle. He was often
rude, even insolent, in expressing his opinion, and wounded many by
his sarcasm. But his vast stores of information, his keen mind and
ready wit, made his conversation an intellectual feast.
It was an ambition of Mr. Thrale to ornament his house with a gallery
of portraits of contemporary celebrities, and it was for this
collection that Reynolds painted the portrait of Johnson, reproduced
in our illustration. It was really a repetition of a portrait he had
previously painted for their common friend and club-fellow, Bennet
Langton.
Here we see the sage at the age of sixty odd years, precisely as he
appeared among his friends at Streatham. The painter has straightened
the wig, which was usually worn awry, but otherwise it is the very
Dr. Johnson of whom we read so much, with his shabby brown coat, his
big shambling shoulders, and coarse features.
A remarkable thing about the portrait is that Reynolds succeeded so
well in showing us the man himself under this rough exterior. The
inferior artist paints only the outside of a face just as it looks to
a stranger who knows nothing of the character of the sitter. The
master paints the face as it looks to a friend who knows the soul
within. Now, Reynolds was not only a master, but he was, in this case,
painting a friend. So he put on the canvas, not merely the eccentric
face of Dr. Johnson as a stranger might see it, but he painted in it
that expression of intellectual power which the great man showed among
his congenial friends. Something, too, is suggested in the portrait of
that sternly upright spirit which hated a lie.
It is a portrait of Johnson the scholar, the thinker, and the
conversationalist. He seems to be engaged in some argument, and is
delivering his opinion with characteristic authoritativeness. The
heavy features are lighted by his thought. One may fancy that the talk
turns upon patriotism, when Johnson, roused to indignation by the
false pretences of many would-be patriots, exclaims, "Sir, patriotism
is the last refuge of a scoundrel."
XVI
THE PORTRAIT OF REYNOLDS
In the city of Florence, Italy, there is a famous gallery of portraits
unlike any other collection of pictures in the world. It consists of
the portraits of artists, painted by their own hands, and includes the
most celebrated painters of all nations, from the fifteenth century to
the present time. Here may be seen the portraits of Velasquez, Titian,
Tintoretto, Rembrandt,--the world's greatest portrait painters,--and
in the same splendid company hangs the portrait of Reynolds,
reproduced in our frontispiece. He painted it in 1776 for the special
purpose of sending it to Florence at the request of the Imperial
Academy of that city, of which he had just been elected a member.
As we have seen in our study of the Angels' Heads, a single portrait
can show us only one side of the sitter's character. This portrait of
Reynolds, painted as a condition of membership in a society of
artists, and for a gallery of artists' portraits, was intended chiefly
to show the artistic side of his nature. The pose itself at once
suggests the artist. The expression of the mobile face is that of a
painter engaged at his easel, turning a searching glance upon the
object he is painting. In short, it is a sort of official portrait,
introducing the new member to his associates in the Imperial Academy.
The artist wears the Oxford cap and gown, to which he is entitled, by
virtue of the honorary degree of D. C. L., conferred upon him by the
University of Oxford. In his hand he carries a roll of manuscript,
presumably one of his lectures before the Royal Academy. Both the roll
and the costume are, as it were, insignia of his English honors. A
Latin inscription on the back of the portrait, written by the
painter's own hand, enumerates the several distinctions which are his.
Reynolds might, indeed, be pardoned the pride with which he reviewed
his career. From somewhat humble beginnings he had now made his way to
the foremost place in his profession. He was born at a time when art
was in a very low state in England, and there were no advantages for
the study of painting. His only instruction was under an inferior
portrait painter named Hudson, with whom he served as apprentice about
two years.
His real art training was during three years of travel in Italy. There
he examined and studied the works of the greatest masters of the past,
and returned to England with altogether new ideals. Setting up a
studio in London, he soon gained an immense popularity. When the Royal
Academy was founded, in 1768, he became the first president, and at
the same time the honor of knighthood was conferred upon him. Other
artists now rose to prominence, but he still held the supremacy.
The painter's popularity depended by no means on his artistic talents
alone; his opinions were worth hearing on many subjects. He was fond
of books and literary discussions, and his friendship was valued by
such men of intellect as Johnson, Goldsmith, Burke, and others of that
charmed circle making the Literary Club. He had a genial, kindly
nature, and his manners were exquisitely courteous. Thackeray once
wrote that "of all the polite men of that age, Joshua Reynolds was the
finest gentleman." He was a member of several clubs, was fond of
society, and was a welcome guest in many of the best houses in London.
He himself entertained with generous hospitality, and gathered about
his table some of the brightest people of his time.
His intimate friend, Edmund Malone, described him as a man "rather
under the middle size, of a florid complexion, and a lively and
pleasing aspect; well made, and extremely active. His appearance at
first sight impressed the spectator with the idea of a well-born and
well-bred English gentleman. With an uncommon equability of temper,
which, however, never degenerated into insipidity or apathy, he
possessed a constant flow of spirits which rendered him at all times a
most pleasing companion.... He appeared to me the happiest man I have
ever known."
Through many years Reynolds was very deaf, and was obliged to use an
ear trumpet to aid him in general conversation. In later years he also
wore spectacles, so that we always picture him in his advancing life
with trumpet and glasses. His habit of taking great quantities of
snuff was one which gave occasion to many jokes among his friends.
Numerous poetic tributes were written by his admirers, describing more
or less rhetorically his qualities as a man and an artist. There is
one bit of verse by Goldsmith (1770), in a comic vein, and in the form
of an epitaph, which delineates very cleverly the real character of
the man:--
"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 steering,
When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing;
When they talked of their Raffaelles, Correggios, and stuff,
He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff!"
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