In 1785 he received a medal from the Society of Arts for his crayon
drawing of 'Raphael's Transfiguration.' In 1787, being then seventeen,
he exhibited seven pictures at the Royal Academy. He painted his own
portrait, and wrote concerning it to his mother, 'To any but my own
family I certainly should not say this; but, excepting Sir Joshua for
the painting of the head, I would risk my reputation with any painter in
London.' The picture was broadly painted, three-quarter size, with a
Rembrandtish effect, as Sir Joshua detected when the canvas was shown to
him. 'You have been looking at the old masters; take my advice and study
nature.' He dismissed the young artist with marked kindness, however. In
1789, Martin Archer Shee described him as 'a genteel, handsome young
man, effeminate in his manner;' adding, 'he is wonderfully laborious,
and has the most uncommon patience and perseverance.' About this time he
painted the Princess Amelia, and Miss Farren, the actress, afterwards
Countess of Derby, 'in a white satin cloak and muff;' and full-length
portraits of the King and Queen, to be taken out by Lord Macaulay as
presents to the Emperor of China. In 1791 he was, at the express desire,
it was said, of the King and Queen, after one defeat, admitted an
associate of the Royal Academy by a suspension of the law prohibiting
the admission of an associate under the age of twenty-four. He was
opposed by many of the academicians, and bitterly attacked by Peter
Pindar.
Dr. Wolcot was especially angry at the alleged interference of royalty
in the election. In his satiric poem _The Rights of Kings_, he
expostulates ironically with certain academicians who ventured to oppose
the nominee of the Court:--
'How, sirs, on majesty's proud corns to tread!
Messieurs ACADEMICIANS, when you're dead,
Where can your impudences hope to go?
'Refuse a monarch's mighty orders!
It smells of treason--on rebellion borders!
'S death, sirs! it was the Queen's fond wish as well,
That _Master_ LAWRENCE should come in!
Against a queen so gentle to rebel!
This is another crying sin!
* * * * *
'Behold, his majesty is in a passion,
Tremble, ye rogues, and tremble all the nation!
Suppose he takes it in his, royal head
To strike your academic idol dead--
Knock down your house, dissolve you in his ire,
And strip you of your boasted title--"SQUIRE."[21]
* * * * *
'Go, sirs, with halters round your wretched necks,
Which some contrition for your crime bespeaks,
And much-offended majesty implore:
Say, piteous, kneeling in the royal view,
"Have pity on a sad abandoned crew,
And we, great king, will sin no more;
Forgive, dread sir, the crying sin,
And _Mister_ LAWRENCE shall come in!"'
[21] The diplomas of the Academicians constituted them ESQUIRES. In the
last century this designation was conferred and employed by society with
more scrupulousness than obtains at present.
The academicians had, it seems, in the first instance, elected FRANCIS
WHEATLEY, painter of rural and domestic subjects, in preference to
Lawrence. There had been then sixteen votes for Wheatley, and but three
for Lawrence.
'Yet opposition, fraught to royal wishes,
Quite counter to a gracious king's commands,
Behold the ACADEMICIANS, those strange fishes,
For WHEATLEY lifted their unhallowed hands.
So then, these fellows have not leave to crawl,
To play the spaniel lick the foot and fawn.'
Etc. etc. etc.
In 1792, he attended the funeral of Sir Joshua in St. Paul's Cathedral,
when Mr. Burke attempted to thank the members of the Academy for the
respect shown to the remains of their president, but, overcome by his
emotions, was unable to utter a word. In 1795, Mr. Lawrence was elected
a full member of the Academy, having previously succeeded Sir Joshua as
painter in ordinary to the King--Benjamin West being elected to the
presidential chair.
'Sir Joshua,' writes Northcote in his _Life of Reynolds_, 'expected the
appointment [of painter in ordinary] would be offered to him on the
death of Ramsay, and expressed his disapprobation with regard to
soliciting it; but he was informed that it was a necessary point of
etiquette with which he complied, and seems to have pleased Johnson by
so doing.'
Burke, reforming the King's household expenses, had reduced the salary
of King's painter from £200 to £50 per annum. But the office was
nevertheless a valuable source of emolument, derived in great part from
the number of State portraits of the sovereign, required, by usage, for
the adornment of certain official residences, and the duty and profit of
executing which devolved, as of right, on the painter in ordinary. Thus
the mansion of every ambassador of the crown, in the capital of the
foreign court to which he was accredited, exhibited in its reception
rooms whole-length portraits of the King and Queen of England. And these
works were not fixtures in the official residence, but were considered
as gifts from the sovereign to the individual ambassador, and remained
his property--his perquisites on the cessation of his diplomatic
functions. Each new appointment among the _corps diplomatique_,
therefore, brought grist to the mill of the painter in ordinary in the
shape of a new commission for a royal whole-length, usually a _replica_
of a previous work, but to be charged and paid for according to the
artist's usual scale of prices for original pictures. When Reynolds,
late in his career, accepted the appointment, its pecuniary advantages
were a matter of indifference to him, or he did not care to be for ever
reduplicating or reproducing the 'counterfeit presentment' of the
sovereign, and a fashion sprung up of compensating the ambassador with a
fixed sum of money, the estimated market value of the royal portrait;
his excellency not being in the least unwilling to accept the specie in
lieu of the picture. But Lawrence did not find it expedient to follow
Sir Joshua's example. He claimed a right to execute the portraits,
however numerous, of the sovereign, let the diplomatists be ever so
willing to take money instead. This claim was admitted, and he reaped
large profits accordingly.[22]
[22] See _Life of Sir M.A. Shee_, vol. i. p. 441.
Add to his unquestionable art-abilities, that he was courtly in manner,
an accomplished fencer and dancer, with a graceful figure and a handsome
face; that he possessed an exquisitely modulated voice; and large,
lustrous expressive eyes--the light in which seemed to be always
kindling and brilliant.
George the Fourth, indeed, pronounced him 'the most finished gentleman
in my dominions.' And then, though he had abandoned all thought of the
stage as a means of obtaining profit, there was nothing to prevent his
distinguishing himself in back drawing-rooms as an unprofessional
player. He was certified by no less a person than Sheridan to be 'the
best amateur actor in the kingdom.' Lawrence had greatly distinguished
himself in that respect at a theatrical _fête_ given by the Marquis of
Abercorn in 1803. 'Shall I give you an account of it?' writes the
painter to his sister. 'It was projected by a woman of great cleverness
and beauty--Lady Caher.... It was determined to do it in a quiet way,
and more as an odd experiment of the talents of the party than anything
else; but this and that friend would be offended; and at last it
swelled up to a perfect theatre (in a room), and a London audience. The
Prince, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, Lord and Lady Melbourne,
their sons, Lord and Lady Essex, Lord and Lady Amherst, with a long _et
cetera_, and, amongst the rest, Sheridan, were present.' The plays
performed were _The Wedding Day_, and _Who's the Dupe?_ Lawrence
represented Lord Rakeland in the one, and Grainger in the other. The
orchestra was behind the scenes. Lady Harriet Hamilton played the organ,
Lady Maria the piano; Lady Catherine the tambourine, the Honourable Mr.
Lamb the violoncello; other instrumentalists were hired--'a most perfect
orchestra--with admirable scenery, and light as day.' 'The Prince then
came in, and of course the orchestra struck up "God save the King." Then
a little terrifying bell rang--the curtain drew up--and _The Wedding
Day_ began. At first, I will own to you, Sheridan's face, the grave Duke
of Devonshire, and two or three staunch critics, made me feel
unpleasantly: for I opened the piece. However, this soon wore off; our
set played extremely well--like persons of good sense without
extravagance or buffoonery, and yet with sufficient spirit. Lady Caher,
Mr. J. Madox, and G. Lamb were the most conspicuous--the first so
beautiful that I felt love-making very easy. A splendid supper closed
the business.' Lawrence seems to have fancied that the propriety of his
joining in the theatricals might be questioned. Although his father and
mother had both been dead some years, their admonitions in respect of
his old love for the stage were still sounding in his ears. So he writes
with an air of apology to his sister--his senior by some years--'You
know me too well, dear Anne, to believe that I should be of such a
scheme under any but very flattering circumstances; as it is, I was
right to join in it. Lord Abercorn is an old Jermyn Street friend--a
staunch and honourable one, and particularly kind to me in real services
and very flattering distinctions. These all formed one strong reason for
joining in the thing; and another secret one was, that whatever tends to
heighten a character for general talent (when kept in prudent bounds) is
of use to that particular direction of it which forms the pursuit of
life. I have gained, then, and not lost by this (to you) singular step.
I am not going to be a performer in other families. I stick to Lord
Abercorn's: and for the rest I pursue my profession as quietly and more
steadily than ever.' Certainly Lawrence seemed a likely man to achieve
successes, both social and artistic. And he _did_ succeed
unquestionably.
Byron did not criticise leniently his contemporaries, but he records in
his diary: 'The same evening (he is writing of the year 1814) I met
Lawrence the painter, and heard one of Lord Grey's daughters play on the
harp so modestly and ingenuously, that she looked music. I would rather
have had my talk with Lawrence, who talked delightfully, and heard the
girl, than have had all the fame of Moore and me put together. The only
pleasure of fame is, that it paves the way to pleasure, and the more
intellectual the better for the pleasure and us too.'