Part 13

The personages represented in this picture are as follow: the Emperor; the Empress Josephine; the Pope; Cambaceres, Duke of Parma, arch-chancellor; the Duke of Plaisance, arch-treasurer; Mareschal Berthier, Prince of Wagram; M. Talleyrand, Prince of Benevento, grand chamberlain to the emperor; Prince Eugene Beauharnais, viceroy of the kingdom of Lombardy; Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, grand écuyer; Mareschal Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte Corvo, and afterwards King of Sweden; Cardinal Pacca, councillor of the pope; Cardinal Fesch, the uncle of Napoleon; Cardinal Caprara, then the Pope’s legate at the court of France; the Count D’Harville, senator and governor of the palace of the Tuileries; Esteve, grand treasurer of the crown; Mareschal Prince Murat, afterwards King of Naples; Mareschal Serrurier, governor of the royal Hotel of Invalids; Mareschal Moncey, Duke of Cornegliane, inspector-general of the gendarmerie; Mareschal Bessierre, Duke of Treviso, general of the imperial guard; Compte Segur, grand master of the Ceremonies; the beautiful and heroic Madame Lavalette, and the Countess of La Rochefoucault, ladies of honor to the empress; Cardinal du Belloy, archbishop of Paris; Maria Annunciade Carolina, wife of Murat; Maria Paulina, wife of Prince Borghese, Duke of Guastalla; and Maria Anna Elisa, Duchess of Tuscany, and Princess of Lucca and Piombino;--the three sisters of Napoleon; Hortense Eugenia Beauharnais, daughter of Josephine, and wife of Louis Napoleon, King of Holland, together with her son Louis Napoleon; Maria Julia Clary, wife of Joseph Napoleon; Junot, Duke of Abrantes, colonel-general of hussars; Louis Napoleon, grand constable; Joseph Napoleon, grand electeur, King of Spain, afterwards a citizen of the United States; Mareschal Le Febvre, Duke of Dantzic; Mareschal Perignon, governor of Naples; Counts de Very, de Longis, D’Arjuzen, Nansouty, Forbin, Beausset, and Detemaud, all filling distinguished posts; Duroc, Duke of Frioul, grand mareschal of the palace; Counts de Jaucourt, Brigade, de Boudy, and de Laville; the Baron Beaumont; the Duke of Cossé Brissac; Madame, mother of the emperor; Count Beaumont; Countess Fontanges; Madame la Mareschal Soult; the Duke of Gravina, ambassador from Spain; Count Marescalchi, minister of the kingdom of Lombardy; Count Cobenzel, Austrian ambassador; the Turkish envoy; Mr. Armstrong, ambassador from the United States; the Marquis of Luchesini, Prussian envoy; M. and Madame David; and the senator Vien, master of the artist; of whom the emperor said, when viewing the picture, “I perceive the likeness of the good M. Vien.” Whereto the painter replied, “I was desirous to testify my gratitude to my master, by placing him in a picture, which from its subject will be the most important of my labors.” There were, besides, the poet Lebrun; Gretry the musician; Monges, member of the Institute; Count D’Aubusson de la Feuillade; chamberlain, etc., etc.

The Bourbons, upon their restoration, unmindful of the arts, and actuated by a mean spirit of vengeance, ordered this chef d’œuvre of David to be destroyed, which was accordingly done!! When Napoleon returned to Paris, the existing government, conceiving it important that the picture should be replaced, requested David to repaint his former picture, which he felt great repugnance to do, regarding it as not within the province of real genius to repaint former productions. He was, however, prevailed upon to acquiesce, and the government agreed to pay the same price that he had received for the original, 100,000 francs. Upon Napoleon’s second abdication, the Emperor Alexander, aware of the history of the performance, made overtures to become possessed of it, after David had completed it at Brussels; but, though his offers were munificent, the painter refused to part with it, and left it to his son, who subsequently exhibited it in London.

DAVID AND THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

During David’s exile at Brussels, the Duke of Wellington called on him, and said, “Monsieur David, I have called to have my portrait taken by the illustrious painter of Leonidas at Thermopylæ.” David, eyeing fiercely the man who had humbled his country, and dethroned her Emperor, replied, “Sir, I cannot paint the English.”

DAVID AND THE CARDINAL CAPRARA.

David introduced the Cardinal Caprara, as the Pope’s legate, into the picture of the Coronation of Napoleon, without his wig. The likeness was exact, and the Cardinal remonstrated with David on the omission, desiring him to supply it. The painter replied that he never had, and never would paint a wig. The Cardinal then applied to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and represented that as no pope had hitherto worn a wig, it might seem as if he (Caprara) had purposely left his own off, to show his pretensions to the tiara. David however stood firm as a rock, even before Talleyrand, and said, “his Eminence may think himself lucky that nothing but his wig has been taken off.”

DAVID AT BRUSSELS.

David, then advanced in years, severely felt his exile at Brussels. He lived very retired, saw little company, and seldom went abroad. It is related that Talma, during a professional engagement at Brussels, got up the tragedy of Leonidas, expressly to gratify his old friend, and invited him to the theatre to see the performance. David consented to go, but told Talma he must pardon him if he should happen to _nod_. As soon as David was recognized in the theatre, the whole house rose _en masse_, and gave three hearty cheers for the illustrious exile, which so affected him that he burst into tears. When the performance commenced, so far from giving way to sleep, he became completely absorbed in the interest of the play, and when the curtain dropped, he exclaimed, “Heavens! how glorious it is to possess such a talent.”

PIERRE MIGNARD.

There have been found occasionally some artists, who could so perfectly imitate the spirit, the taste, the character, and the peculiarities of great masters, that they have not unfrequently deceived the most skillful connoisseurs.

An anecdote of Pierre Mignard is singular. This great artist painted a Magdalen on a canvass fabricated at Rome. A broker in concert with him, went to the Chevalier de Clairville, and told him as a secret, that he was to receive from Italy a Magdalen of Guido, and one of his masterpieces. The Chevalier caught the bait, begged the preference, and purchased the picture at a very high price. Some time afterwards, he was informed that he had been imposed upon, for that the Magdalen was painted by Mignard. Although Mignard himself caused the alarm to be given, the amateur would not believe it; all the connoisseurs agreed it was a Guido, and the famous Le Brun corroborated this opinion. The Chevalier came to Mignard; “There are,” said he, “some persons who assure me that my Magdalen is your work.” “Mine!” replied Mignard; “they do me great honor. I am sure that Le Brun is not of that opinion.” “Le Brun swears it can be no other than a Guido,” said the Chevalier; “you shall dine with me, and meet several of the first connoisseurs.” On the day of meeting, the picture was more closely inspected than ever. Mignard hinted his doubts whether the piece was the work by Guido; he insinuated that it was possible to be deceived, and added that, if it was Guido’s, he did not think it in his best manner. “I am perfectly convinced that it is a Guido, sir, and in his very best manner,” replied Le Brun, with warmth; and all the critics unanimously agreed with him. Mignard then said, in a firm tone of voice, “And I, gentlemen, will wager three hundred louis that it is not a Guido.” The dispute now became violent--Le Brun was desirous of accepting the wager. In a word, the affair became such as could add nothing more to the glory of Mignard. “No, sir,” replied the latter; “I am too honest to bet, when I am certain to win. Monsieur le Chevalier, this piece cost you two thousand crowns; the money must be returned--the painting is by my hand.” Le Brun would not believe it. “The proof,” continued Mignard, “is easy; on this canvass, which is a Roman one, was the portrait of a Cardinal; I will show you his cap.”

The Chevalier did not know which of the rival artists to believe; the proposition alarmed him. “He who painted the picture shall mend it,” said Mignard; and taking a pencil dipped in spirits, and rubbing the hair of the Magdalen, he soon discovered the cap of the Cardinal. The honor of the ingenious painter could no longer be disputed.

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

This eminent painter was born at Plympton, in Devonshire, in 1723. He was the son of the Rev. Samuel Reynolds, who intended him for the medical profession; but his natural taste and genius for painting, induced his father to send him to London to study painting under Hudson, when he was seventeen years of age. In 1749, he accompanied Captain, afterwards Lord Keppel to the Mediterranean, and passed about three years in Italy. On his return to England, he established himself in London, where he soon acquired a distinguished reputation, and rose to be esteemed the head of the English school of painting. At the formation of the Royal Academy in 1768, he was elected president, and received the honor of knighthood. In 1781 he visited Holland and the Netherlands to examine the productions of the Dutch and Flemish masters, by which he is said to have improved his coloring. In 1784, on the death of Ramsay, he was appointed principal painter to the King. He died in 1792, and his remains were deposited in the crypt of St. Paul’s cathedral, near the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren. He formed a splendid collection of works of art, which, after his death, brought at public sale about £17,000; and the whole of his property amounted to about £80,000, the bulk of which he left to his niece, who married Lord Inchiquin, afterwards Marquis of Thomond. He never married, but his sister Frances Reynolds conducted his domestic affairs. He was fond of the society of literary men, kept open house, and seldom dined without his table being graced by the presence of some of the chosen spirits of the land. He was simple and unostentatious in his habits, and affable in his deportment; and while his table was abundantly supplied, there was an absence of all ceremony, and each guest was made to feel himself perfectly at home, which gave a delightful zest to his hospitality.

REYNOLDS’ NEW STYLE.

Soon after Reynolds’ return to England from Italy, in 1752, he commenced his professional career in St. Martin’s Lane, London. He found such opposition as genius is commonly doomed to encounter, and does not always overcome. The boldness of his attempts, and the brilliancy of his coloring, were considered innovations upon the established and orthodox system of portrait manufacture, in the styles of Lely and Kneller. The old artists first raised their voices. His old master Hudson called at his rooms to see his Turkish Boy, which had caused quite a sensation in the town. After contemplating the picture some minutes, he said with a national oath,--“Why, Reynolds, you do not paint as well as you did when you left England.” Ellis, an eminent portrait maker, who had studied under Kneller, next lifted up his voice. “Ah, Reynolds,” said he, “this will never answer, you do not paint in the least like Sir Godfrey.” When the young artist vindicated himself with much ability, Ellis, finding himself unable to give any good reasons for the objections he had made, cried out in a rage, “Shakspeare in poetry, and Kneller in painting for me,” and stalked out of the room. Reynolds’ new style, notwithstanding the vigorous opposition he met with, took with the fashionable world, his fame spread far and wide, and he soon became the leading painter in London. In 1754, he removed from St. Martin’s Lane, the Grub-street of artists, and took a handsome house on the north side of Great Newport-Street, which he furnished with elegance and taste. Northcote says his apartments were filled with ladies of quality and with men of rank, all alike desirous to have their persons preserved to posterity by one who touched no subject without adorning it. “The desire to perpetuate the form of self-complacency, crowded the sitting room of Reynolds with women who wished to be transmitted as angels, and with men who wished to appear as heroes and philosophers. From his pencil they were sure to be gratified. The force and facility of his portraits, not only drew around him the opulence and beauty of the nation, but happily gained him the merited honor of perpetuating the features of all the eminent and distinguished men of learning then living.”

REYNOLDS’ PRICES.

“The price,” says Cunningham, “which Reynolds at first received for a _head_ was five guineas; the rate increased with his fame, and in the year 1755 his charge was twelve. Experience about this time dictated the following memorandum respecting his art. ‘For painting the flesh:--black, blue-black, white, lake, carmine, orpiment, yellow-ochre, ultramarine, and varnish. To lay the palette:--first lay, carmine and white in different degrees; second lay, orpiment and white ditto; third lay, blue-black and white ditto. The first sitting, for expedition, make a mixture as like the sitter’s complexion as you can.’ Some years afterwards I find, by a casual notice from Johnson, that Reynolds had raised his price for a head to twenty guineas.

“The year 1758 was perhaps the most lucrative of his professional career. The account of the economy of his studies, and the distribution of his time at this period, is curious and instructive. It was his practice to keep all the prints engraved from his portraits, together with his sketches, in a large portfolio; these he submitted to his sitters; and whatever position they selected, he immediately proceeded to copy it on the canvass, and paint the likeness to correspond. He received six sitters daily, who appeared in their turns; and he kept regular lists of those who sat, and of those who were waiting until a finished portrait should open a vacancy for their admission. He painted them as they stood on his list, and often sent the work home before the colors were dry. Of lounging visitors he had a great abhorrence, and, as he reckoned up the fruits of his labors, ‘Those idle people,’ said this disciple of the grand historical school of Raphael and Angelo, ‘those idle people do not consider that my time is worth five guineas an hour.’ This calculation incidentally informs us, that it was Reynolds’ practice, in the height of his reputation and success, to paint a portrait in four hours.”

REYNOLDS IN LEICESTER SQUARE.

Reynolds’ commissions continued to increase, and to pour in so abundantly, that in addition to his pupils, he found it necessary to employ several subordinate artists, skillful in painting drapery and backgrounds, as assistants. He also raised his price to twenty-five guineas a head.

“In the year 1761,” says Cunningham, “the accumulating thousands which Johnson speaks of, began to have a visible effect on Reynolds’ establishment. He quitted Newport Street, purchased a fine house on the west side of Leicester Square, furnished it with much taste, added a splendid gallery for the exhibition of his works, and an elegant dining-room; and finally taxed his invention and his purse in the production of a carriage, with wheels carved and gilt, and bearing on its pannels the Four Seasons of the year. Those who flocked to see his new gallery, were sometimes curious enough to desire a sight of this gay carriage, and the coachman, imitating the lackey who showed the gallery, earned a little money by opening the coach-house doors. His sister complained that it was too showy--‘What!’ said the painter, ‘would you have one like an apothecary’s carriage?’

“By what course of study he attained his skill in art, Reynolds has not condescended to tell us; but of many minor matters we are informed by one of his pupils, with all the scrupulosity of biography. His study was octagonal, some twenty feet long, sixteen broad, and about fifteen feet high. The window was small and square, and the sill nine feet from the floor. His sitter’s chair moved on castors, and stood above the floor a foot and a half; he held his palettes by a handle, and the sticks of his brushes were eighteen inches long. He wrought standing, and with great celerity. He rose early, breakfasted at nine, entered his study at ten, examined designs or touched unfinished portraits till eleven brought a sitter; painted till four; then dressed, and gave the evening to company.

“His table was now elegantly furnished, and round it men of genius were often found. He was a lover of poetry and poets; they sometimes read their productions at his house, and were rewarded by his approbation, and occasionally by their portraits. Johnson was a frequent and a welcome guest: though the sage was not seldom sarcastic and overbearing, he was endured and caressed, because he poured out the riches of his conversation more lavishly than Reynolds did his wines. Percy was there too with his ancient ballads and his old English lore; and Goldsmith with his latent genius, infantine vivacity, and plum-colored coat. Burke and his brothers were constant guests, and Garrick was seldom absent, for he loved to be where greater men were. It was honorable to this distinguished artist that he perceived the worth of such men, and felt the honor which their society shed upon him; but it stopped not here--he often aided them with his purse, nor insisted upon repayment.”

THE FOUNDING OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

“The Royal Academy,” says Cunningham, “was planned and proposed in 1768 by Chambers, West, Cotes, and Moser; the caution or timidity of Reynolds kept him for some time from assisting. A list of thirty members was made out; and West, a prudent and amiable man, called on Reynolds, and, in a conference of two hours’ continuance, succeeded in persuading him to join them. He ordered his carriage, and, accompanied by West, entered the room where his brother artists were assembled. They rose up to a man, and saluted him ‘President.’ He was affected by the compliment, but declined the honor till he had talked with Johnson and Burke; he went, consulted his friends, and having considered the consequences carefully, then consented. He expressed his belief at the same time that their scheme was a mere delusion: the King, he said, would not patronize nor even acknowledge them, as his majesty was well known to be the friend of another body--The Incorporated Society of Artists.”

The truth is, the Royal Academy was planned at the suggestion of the King himself. He had learned, through West, the causes of the indecent bickerings in the Society of Artists, and declared to him that he was ready to patronize any institution founded on principles calculated to advance the interests of art. West communicated the King’s declaration to some of the dissenters, who drew up a plan which the king corrected with his own hand. See Spooner’s Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects, article West.

REYNOLDS AND DR. JOHNSON.

In the year 1754, Reynolds accidentally made the acquaintance of Dr. Samuel Johnson, which ripened into a mutual and warm friendship, that continued through life. Of the fruit which he derived from this intercourse, Reynolds thus speaks, in one of his Discourses on Art:

“Whatever merit these Discourses may have, must be imputed in a great measure to the education which I may be said to have had under Dr. Johnson. I do not mean to say, though it certainly would be to the credit of these Discourses if I could say it with truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them; but he qualified my mind to think justly. No man had, like him, the art of teaching inferior minds the art of thinking. Perhaps other men might have equal knowledge, but few were so communicative. His great pleasure was to talk to those who looked up to him. It was here he exhibited his wonderful powers. The observations which he made on poetry, on life, and on everything about us, I applied to one art--with what success, others must judge.”

DR. JOHNSON’S FRIENDSHIP FOR REYNOLDS.

In 1764, Reynolds was attacked by a sudden and dangerous illness. He was cheered by the sympathy of many friends, and by the solicitude of Johnson, who thus wrote him from Northamptonshire:

“I did not hear of your sickness till I heard likewise of your recovery, and therefore escaped that part of your pain which every man must feel to whom you are known as you are known to me. If the amusement of my company can exhilarate the languor of a slow recovery, I will not delay a day to come to you; for I know not how I can so effectually promote my own pleasure as by pleasing you, or my own interest as by preserving you; in whom, if I should lose you, I should lose almost the only man whom I can call a friend.” He to whom Johnson could thus write, must have possessed many noble qualities, for no one could estimate human nature more truly than that illustrious man.

JOHNSON’S APOLOGY FOR PORTRAIT PAINTING.

Johnson showed his kindly feelings for Sir Joshua Reynolds, by writing the following apology for portrait painting. Had the same friendship induced him to compliment West, he doubtless would have written in a very different strain:

“Genius,” said he, “is chiefly exerted in historical pictures, and the art of the painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of the subject. But it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. I should grieve to see Reynolds transfer to heroes and goddesses, to empty splendor and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in diffusing friendship, in renewing tenderness, in quickening the affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead. Every man is always present to himself, and has, therefore, little need of his own resemblance; nor can desire it, but for the sake of those whom he loves, and by whom he hopes to be remembered. This use of the art is a natural and reasonable consequence of affection: and though, like all other human actions, it is often complicated with pride, yet even such pride is more laudable than that by which palaces are covered with pictures, which however excellent, neither imply the owner’s virtue, nor excite it.”

THE LITERARY CLUB.

The Literary Club was founded by Dr. Johnson in 1764, and among many men of eminence and talent, it numbered Reynolds. His modesty would not permit him to assume to himself the distinction which literature bestows, but his friends knew too well the value of his presence, to lose it by a fastidious observance of the title of the club. Poets, painters, and sculptors are all brothers; and had Reynolds been less eminent in art, his sound sense, varied information, and pleasing manners would have made him an acceptable companion in the most intellectual society.

JOHNSON’S PORTRAIT.

In 1775, Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his famous portrait of Dr. Johnson, in which he represented him as reading, and near-sighted. This latter circumstance was very displeasing to the “Giant of Literature,” who reproved Reynolds, saying, “It is not friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of any man.” But Reynolds, on the contrary, considered it a natural peculiarity which gave additional value to the portrait. Johnson complained of the caricature to Mrs. Thrale, who to console him, said that he would not be known to posterity by his defects only, and that Reynolds had painted for her his own portrait, with the ear-trumpet. He replied, “He may paint himself as deaf as he chooses, but he shall not paint me as _blinking Sam_.”

JOHNSON’S DEATH.