1792.
That Vandyke did not possess that liberal patron in King Charles I. which his biographers have hitherto stated, is unquestionably a fact, which can be proved by a long bill which I have lately seen (by the friendly indulgence of Mr. Lemon[250] and his son), in the State Paper Office, docketed by the King’s own hand. For instance, the picture of his Majesty dressed for the chase (which I conjecture to be the one engraved by Strange),[251] for which Vandyke had charged £200, the King, after erasing that sum, inserted £100; and down in proportion, nay, in some instances they suffered a further reduction. Of several of the works charged in the bill, which his Majesty marked as intended presents to his friends, I recollect one of two that were to be given to Lord Holland was reduced to the sum of £60. Other pictures in the bill the King marked with a cross, which is explained at the back by Endymion Porter, that as those were to be paid for by the Queen, the King had left them for her Majesty to reduce at pleasure.
That a daughter of Vandyke was allowed a pension for sums owing by King Charles I. to her father, is also true, as there is a petition in consequence of its being discontinued still preserved in the State Paper Office, in which that lady declares herself to be plunged into the greatest distress, adding that she had been cheated by the purchaser of her late father’s estate, who never paid for it.[252]
It would be the height of vanity in me to offer anything beyond what the author of The Sublime and Beautiful has said of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who died this year at his house in Leicester Square.[253] As Mr. Burke’s character of this most powerful of painters may not be in the possession of all my readers, I shall here reprint it.[254]
“The illness of Sir Joshua Reynolds was long, but borne with a mild and cheerful fortitude, without the least mixture of anything irritable or querulous, agreeably to the placid and even tenor of his whole life.
“He had, from the beginning of his malady, a distinct view of his dissolution; and he contemplated it with that entire composure which nothing but the innocence, integrity, and usefulness of his life, and unaffected submission to the will of Providence, could bestow. In this situation he had every consolation from family tenderness, which his own kindness to his family had indeed well deserved.
“Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many accounts, one of the most memorable men of his time. He was the first Englishman who added the praise of the elegant arts to the other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, in facility, in happy invention, and in the richness and harmony of colouring, he was equal to the great masters of the renowned ages. In portrait he was beyond them; for he communicated to that description of the art, in which English artists are the most engaged, a variety, a fancy, and a dignity derived from the higher branches, which even those who professed them in a superior manner did not always preserve, when they delineated individual nature. His portraits remind the spectator of the invention of history and the amenity of landscape. In painting portraits, he appeared not to be raised upon that platform, but to descend to it from a higher sphere. His paintings illustrate his lessons; and his lessons seem to be derived from his paintings. He possessed the theory as perfectly as the practice of his art. To be such a painter, he was a profound and penetrating philosopher.
“In full happiness 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 candour never forsook him, even on surprise or provocation, nor was the least degree of arrogance or assumption visible to the most scrutinising eye, in any part of his conduct or discourse.
“His talents of every kind, powerful from nature, and not meanly cultivated by letters—his social virtues in all the relations and in all the habitudes of life—rendered him the centre of a very great and unparalleled variety of agreeable societies, which will be dissipated by his death. He had too much merit not to excite some jealousy, too much innocence to provoke any enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow. ‘Hail! and farewell!’”
The following letter was addressed to me by my worthy friend Colonel Phillips:[255]—
“Dear Sir,—If it was not for having you older than your friends would wish you, I should be glad you had been of the party, where I heard an argument between Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds, on the wonderful power of the human eye. Dr. Johnson made a quotation which I do not remember. ‘Sir,’ said Sir Joshua, in reply, ‘that divine effect is produced by the parts appertaining to the eye, and not from its globe, as is generally supposed; the skull must be justly proportioned.’
“Mrs. Cholmondeley.[256]—‘My dear Sir Joshua, was there nothing in the magic of Garrick’s eye? its comicality. The Duke of Richmond, the Duke of Dorset, and young Sheridan[257] have superb eyes; but I don’t know what effect they would have on the stage.’
“Sir Joshua.—‘Little or none, Madam; the great beauty of the Duke of Richmond’s eye proceeded from its fine and uncommon colour, dark blue, which would be totally lost on the stage, the light being constantly either too high or too low. Garrick’s eye, unaccompanied by the action of his mouth, would not fascinate. When you are near a person, a pretty woman for instance, and have a good light, the contraction and expansion of the pupilla, which bids defiance to our art, is delightful; it is more perceptible in fine grey and light blue eyes, than in any other colour. We, however, cannot deny the majestic look of the Belvedere Apollo, though unassisted by iris, pupil, eye-lashes, or colour.’
“Dr. Johnson.—‘Sir, a tiger’s eye, and, I am told, a snake’s, will intimidate birds, so that they will drop from trees for its prey, without using their wings.’
“After Dr. Johnson had quaffed about twenty-four cups of tea, he gave a blow of considerable length from his mouth, drew his breath, and said, ‘Sir, I believe you are right, it is but rational to suppose so: I wish that rogue Burke was here.’
“I am sorry, my dear Sir, that my memory is not better, so as to give you verbatim what passed. I feel like a person giving evidence in a court, trammelled by the apprehension of saying too much, or, as a late friend of mine said, ‘remembering a great many circumstances that never happened;’ and I only write this to show my readiness to comply with any request you could possibly make of your obliged friend,
“M. Phillips.”
“If you ask how it comes, the faithful Bossy was not present; Bossy was not always producible after dinner.”
RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN
“Tell Lady Besborough that my eyes will look up to the coffin-lid as brightly as ever.”
“Wednesday, 27th March.
ROYAL BUN HOUSE, CHELSEA,
GOOD FRIDAY.
No Cross Buns.
“Mrs. Hand respectfully informs her friends, and the public, that in consequence of the great concourse of people which assembled before her house at a very early hour, on the morning of Good Friday; by which her neighbours (with whom she has always lived in friendship and repute) have been much alarmed and annoyed; it having also been intimated, that to encourage or countenance a tumultuous assembly at this particular period, might be attended with consequences more serious than have hitherto been apprehended; desirous, therefore, of testifying her regard and obedience to those laws by which she is happily protected, she is determined, though much to her loss, not to sell Cross Buns on that day, to any person whatever;—but Chelsea Buns as usual.
“Mrs. Hand would be wanting in gratitude to a generous public, who, for more than fifty years past, have so warmly patronised and encouraged her shop, to omit so favourable an opportunity of offering her sincere acknowledgments for their kind favours; at the same time, to assure them she will, to the utmost of her power, endeavour to merit a continuance of them.”[258]