By Sir Joshua Reynolds, P.R.A.
WE give a sketch of both sisters, not being quite certain as to the identity of the portrait. They were the daughters of Mrs. Palmer, who was sister of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and wife of John Palmer of Torrington, county Devon. Theophila, their youngest daughter, had been residing some time with her uncle in Leicester Square, but came home for change of air; and when she returned to London in 1779, her elder sister, Mary, accompanied her. Miss Burney tells us that the two sisters ‘added to the charm of the President’s table and his evening parties by their pleasing manners and the beauty of their persons.’
They both served as occasional models. Mary appears to have been the more staid and demure of the two. She had the keenest admiration and appreciation of her uncle’s talent, and never tired of describing his works to her frequent correspondent and cousin, William Johnson, at Calcutta. In 1786 she says: ‘Uncle seems more than ever bewitched by his palette and pencil. He paints from morning till night, and, truth to say, each picture appears better than the last. The Empress of Russia has ordered an historical painting; his choice is still undecided.’
This was the ‘Infant Hercules,’ which made such a noise at the time, and the merits of which were the subject of so much controversy. Romney’s verdict was ‘that, whatever fault might be found with it, no other painter in Europe could have produced that picture.’ Sir Joshua was one of those who did not disdain criticism, even from young lips. He had painted a captivating portrait of Mary’s little niece, Polly Gwatkin, and when Miss Palmer saw it she told the President boldly that the little fingers, which were clasped on the child’s lap, with their very red tips, suggested the idea of a dish of prawns! Sir Joshua, no ways offended, laughed, and set to work immediately, turning the prawns into roseate buds, which he placed in the little chubby hand. Mary was at Torrington when she heard of her uncle’s sudden failure of sight and loss of one eye. She hastened back to his side, to read, to write, to minister to him in every possible way, for he was not allowed to read, or write, or paint for some time. ‘You may believe,’ Mary writes, ‘what the loss of an eye is to him. But his serenity never forsook him. One of his early axioms was not to fuss about trifles,—if the loss of an eye could be considered as such. ‘The ruling passion continues. He amuses himself by mending or cleaning a picture. In the meantime he enjoys company as much as ever, and loves a game at cards.’
Mary Palmer lived with her uncle till his death. He left her a considerable fortune and a large collection of his pictures, which were sold by auction at her death, in 1821. The same year that Sir Joshua died she married Murrough, first Marquis of Thomond, as his second wife. She made a present of one of his historical paintings to George IV. Theophila, or Offy, as her uncle usually called her, was his favourite, although much attached to both sisters. She was only thirteen when she first went to live in Leicester Square. She was very pretty, and full of fun and playful spirits. She frequently sat to the President, especially for his arch and sprightly models,—his ‘Strawberry Girl,’ his ‘Mouse Girl,’ and ‘Reflections on reading Clarissa Harlowe.’ But Miss Offy’s dignity was much hurt on the exhibition of the last-named picture, because it was entered into the Catalogue as ‘A Girl reading:’ ‘You might have put “a young lady,” uncle’! Another time the President was scolded because he made the portrait look too young, when the original was nearly fourteen! But for all these differences, the great man and the little lady were the dearest friends, and we find in one of his long letters that he will not tell her how much he loves her lest she should grow saucy over it; and again he says he has two presents for her and Mary,—a ring, and a bracelet of his hair. She is to have her choice, but she is not to let her sister know of this mark of preference.
Offy was married in her twentieth year, from her mother’s house at Torrington, to Richard Lovell Gwatkin, a man of fortune, and of a good Cornish family. Her uncle writes her a most affectionate letter of congratulation, with a postscript by Edmund Burke, who came in at the moment, wishing her every possible happiness. The wish was fulfilled. There never was a happier wife or mother than little Offy. She came to London and sat for a conjugal picture to Sir Joshua, who also painted her little daughter, as we have said before. Mrs. Gwatkin lived to be ninety years of age, surrounded by her children’s children.
No. 5.
A YOUNG WOMAN.