Footprints of Famous Men: Designed as Incitements to Intellectual Industry

by John G. Edgar

While thus situated, Reynolds had the gratification of exchanging courtesies with a famous poet, who had aspired, without any particular success, to excellence in the kindred art of painting. He was attending a public sale of pictures; and just before the hero of the hour raised his voice and brandished his hammer, the name of Pope was passed round, and all respectfully made way for the friend of Bolingbroke. Those who were near held out their hands; and Reynolds being among the number, had the distinction of a gentle shake from those bony fingers which had so often been made the instruments of bitter and brilliant sarcasm. The wheel of time rolled round; the painter, seated among the literary magnates of another generation, still felt pride in relating this interesting little incident; his admiration of the crooked bard was unabated; he was at great pains to procure a fan on which was one of Pope’s efforts in painting; and the recollection of their meeting filled him with satisfaction, even when youths, as in the case of Northcote, were pressing forward, through crowds, to indulge in the luxury of touching his own skirt.

Reynolds continued to pursue his artistic career under Hudson’s inspection for two years, during which he drew many heads with so unquestionable a success, that he thereby excited and inflamed the jealousy of his instructor, who foretold, with a pang, that his pupil would yet arrive at rare celebrity. At length he executed the portrait of an elderly domestic, who acted as cook in the establishment, which, on being exhibited in the gallery, was immensely applauded for its superiority of style. The praise was by no means grateful to Hudson’s ear. Perhaps it was more than flesh and blood could reasonably be expected to bear with patience. In any case, he seized upon the first decent pretext to pick a quarrel with the ambitious juvenile.

The latter had been one day requested to convey a picture to a certain drapery-painter; but as the weather happened to be rainy, he concluded that there would be no harm in delaying its delivery till next morning. At breakfast, Hudson querulously inquired why it had not been taken the evening before, and was informed that the rain had been the cause of the delay.

“Well,” he exclaimed, “since you have not obeyed my orders, you must leave my house.”

Reynolds pleaded for a brief reprieve, but in vain. He asked to be allowed to write an explanation of the matter, and obtain his father’s advice. But Hudson was inexorable; he adhered sternly to his harsh mandate, and Reynolds, going to an uncle who resided at the Temple, thence wrote to his father that he had been dismissed. The latter took the affair into grave consideration, held a sage consultation with his neighbor, Lord Edgecumbe, and directed the young artist to return home. Retirement to the obscurity of Devonshire might delay the progress, but could not altogether conceal the reality, of the talents which were to establish for their possessor so splendid a reputation. His father’s limited means rendered some effort for independence imperative; and during the next three years he executed several portraits of much merit, particularly one of a boy reading by a reflected light. When viewing these pieces thirty years afterward, he is said to have lamented that he had made so little progress in art; just as Canova did a few months before his death, when gazing mournfully on his marble statue of Esculapius in a villa near Venice.

Somewhere about 1745, Reynolds took up his quarters for a while at Plymouth Dock, and employed his time in taking portraits of naval officers and other persons in the vicinity. Most of the likenesses then produced were good; but the example of Hudson had placed him at a disadvantage. His sitters were generally represented with one hand inserted in a waistcoat pocket, and the other stiffly holding a hat. One gentleman did, indeed, request to be drawn with his headpiece on, and his desire was complied with; but—alas for the vanity of human wishes!—when the portrait was sent home, and scrutinized by the capricious individual’s dame, she discovered, with inexpressible horror, that the artist, true to habit, had placed a hat under the arm in addition to that on the head!

Among those whose features he now transferred to canvas was Miss Chudleigh, afterward the celebrated Duchess of Kingston, a young lady of surpassing beauty, then on a visit in the neighborhood, and a Captain Hamilton, of the Abercorn family, whose portrait was considered admirable. Besides, he made the acquaintance of the future Lord Keppel, and when that gallant personage was appointed Commodore on the Mediterranean Station, the artist was invited to accompany him in the “Centurion.”

Reynolds had, some time before, lost his venerable father; and he had now to act entirely on his own judgment and discretion. But having been long and enthusiastically eager to visit Italy, and being in possession of funds sufficient to defray the expense, he availed himself of the friendly proposal, and sailed in May, 1749. Having visited various places of interest, and been introduced, at Algiers, to the Dey, he landed at Port Mahon, in Minorca, where he was treated with much courtesy, and entertained with great hospitality, by the governor. There he added to his skill and means by painting portraits of many officers on the station; but at the same time encountered, and suffered from, an accident of considerable severity. One day as he was refreshing himself with a ride, his horse suddenly took fright, ran off, and rushed wildly over a precipice. The rider was not unhurt by the fall; and indeed his upper lip was so sadly bruised that part of it had to be cut away; so that a scar, which remained visible to the close of his life, was the consequence. Meantime he proceeded to Rome, where he had been advised to place himself under the tuition of Battoni; but on examining the works of that master he deemed it most judicious to trust to his own perception, and concentrate his study on the paintings that had stood the test of time and criticism. In this resolution he persevered, with so little reference to the inclemency of seasons that he was attacked, while pursuing his investigations, with a serious cold. The effect of this mishap was permanent. It brought on the deafness which reduced him to the necessity of using an ear-trumpet while engaged in conversation, and furnished his acquaintance (Goldsmith) with the well-known and oft-quoted lines in the “Retaliation,”—

“When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff,
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.”

While at Rome, Reynolds was less employed by English travelers than might have been anticipated; and he seems to have considered the time so occupied as being almost lost. Before leaving, however, he executed an approved likeness of himself, and an interesting parody on Raphael’s “School of Athens.” He remained as long as the state of his finances rendered prudent, and afterward gave it as his mature opinion, that any artist, with large views, should rather live on bread and water than forego advantages never enjoyed a second time, and not to be found but in the Vatican. Michael Angelo he regarded as “the Homer of Painting.” On his way home, at the foot of Mont Cenis, he encountered his old master, Hudson, in company with Roubiliac the sculptor. The former hurried on, with hot speed, to gratify his eyes with a sight of the “Eternal City;” and accomplished his purpose so hastily that he arrived at Calais in time to cross in the same packet with the pupil, whose excellence had excited his apprehensions and kindled his ire.