Reynolds. 
 
 Portrait of himself ^ ivith a bust of Mkhdangelo» 
 
THE «A%riSTlC DEVELOPMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 Reynolds &> Gainsborough 
 
 r/ro ESSAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM MARTIN CONWAY 
 
 Roscoe Professor of Jrt, University College y 
 Liverpool. 
 
 With Illustrations 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SEELEY (S- CO., 46, 47, 48 ESSEX STREET, STRAND 
 
 1886 
 
 All Right i Rcicr'vcd 
 
The following Essays are the outcome of such weeks of 
 
 study as the writer was enabled to consecrate to the mag- 
 
 • 
 
 nificent Exhibitions held at the Grosvenor Gallery in the 
 early months of the years 1884 and 1885. The published 
 Catalogues of those Exhibitions cannot fail to maintain a 
 permanent place in the literature of English Art. Frequent 
 references have, therefore, been made to them, and the 
 Catalogue numbers have been employed to identify pictures 
 mentioned. The writer has likewise made free use of the 
 ordinary sources of information about the two great artists. 
 He is, of course, especially indebted to Leslie and Taylor's 
 Life of Reynolds and Fulcher's Life of Gainsborough. 
 
To 7ny Master 
 
 Sidney Colvin 
 
 1 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 4 
 
 REYNOLDS 
 
 Portrait of Himself, with a Bust of Michelangelo Frontispiece 
 
 Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse .... P^ge 2 
 
 Lady Cockburn and her Children 16 
 
 Pickaback. Mrs. Payne Gallwey 22 
 
 Lavinia Bingham, afterwards the Countess Spencer . 26 
 Miss Bowles 28 
 
 Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, and her Daughter 30 
 Master Crewe, in the Costume of Henry VIIL . . 32 
 
 GAINSBOROUGH 
 Lady Georgiana Spencer, afterwards Duchess of 
 
 Devonshire . 48 
 
 Orpin, Parish Clerk of Bradford, Wilts ... 50 
 
 Mrs. Graham of Balgowan 5^ 
 
 Admiral Lord Rodney 62 
 
 Cottage Children and Landscape ..... 66 
 
 Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire 7^ 
 
 Landscape near Sudbury, Suffolk 7^ 
 
 The Watering Place 
 
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 (Born 1723; died 1792.) 
 I. 
 
 IT is, perhaps, no matter for surprise that an artist who 
 painted the portraits of Johnson, Goldsmith, Gibbon, 
 Hurke, Sheridan, Ciarrick, Mrs. Siddons, and the great 
 statesmen and leaders of society of both sexes, in a day 
 when Horace W'alpole was immortalising them all with his 
 satirical pen, and Hoswell was w^atching their behaviour and 
 noting down their words — it is small matter for surprise that 
 a painter so circumstanced should be remembered, rather on 
 account of the subjects, than the manner of his work. In a 
 general w^ay, indeed, the public has always liked Sir Joshua's 
 pictures ; it has delighted in his naive children, worshipped 
 his courdy ladies, and enjoyed his mellow colouring and the 
 rich bloom of texture which he dusted over all. The public 
 has enjoyed all these things in its own way ; but, so far, 
 when it has deputed an author to write about Reynolds, 
 he has been charged to hunt among the letters and memoirs 
 
2 
 
 Sir Joshua Rey nolds. 
 
 of the last century for tales and legends about the people 
 who sat to the great master, for accounts of routs and club- 
 meetings and dinners at which he was present, for stories of 
 what he said to Johnson and what Johnson said to him, for 
 minutiae of the snuff he took and the ear-trumpet he used, 
 of the size of his carriage and the colour of its panels and its 
 lining, for plans of his house and lists of his visitors, and of 
 his visitors' visitors and their friends. It is well enough, 
 indeed, that a society should be accurately depicted and 
 brought down to us ; but that has once for all been done 
 by Walpole and Boswell, and in these days no Life of 
 Reynolds constructed on the lines of the Life of Johnson 
 can be anything but a weak and blurred reflection of an 
 incomparable original. By all means let us use Reynolds's 
 portraits to illustrate the letters and memoirs of his day ; 
 by all means, too, let us find out what manner of man the 
 painter himself was, and in what manner of company he 
 moved, and what they thought of him : but let us bear 
 in mind that, when we have done all this, we have only 
 prepared the way for what with the greatest English painter 
 is the matter of highest importance — the consideration of 
 him as an artist. 
 
 Now as an artist Reynolds has never yet been studied ; 
 no written life of him contains even an attempt to trace the 
 origin and development of his style. What were his powers 
 and their limitations ? What is his relative greatness when 
 measured against the greatness of the greatest ? How 
 does he stand in the company of the Holbeins and Dlirers, 
 
Reynolds, 
 Mrs. Siddor.s as the Tragic MuH, 
 
Reynolds as an A rtist. 
 
 3 
 
 Tintorets and Raphaels, of the past ? Whence, too, did he 
 derive his powers ? and what of them did he communicate to 
 his successors? How much of the art of to-day is a direct 
 outcome of his initiative ? how much of the initiative of his 
 contemporaries ? What influence chd he have on a Gains- 
 boroui^h. a Romney ? What effect did they produce upon 
 him ? To these and a hundred similar questions no answ^er 
 has yet been attempted. The 'Tragic Muse' sits majestic 
 upon her throne, gazing with imperial calm into the murky 
 air, where Crime and Remorse crouch amid the gloom ; and 
 all that the biographers have to tell us is the gossip of the 
 studio about the model and her sayings and behaviour. We 
 want to know that indeed, but we want to know much more. 
 Whence came that ijloomv backi^^round and that mvsterious 
 light ? Were there not Rembrandts and other great ones 
 loni/ uone bv ? and is it not to them that we must look for an 
 answer? is the royal Muse Mrs. Siddons only? Could 
 everybody have beheld Mrs. Siddons so ? Or is it not that 
 she was thus visible alone to eyes long trained to behold in 
 the men and women of the everyday world the signs of 
 majesty, power, and tenderness, that we, of the blinder sort, 
 scarce suspect, any more than we do the brilliant colours of 
 the stars ? Now, however, that public attention has again 
 been directed to Reynolds, by the noble' collection of the 
 master's pictures recently brought together at the Grosvenor 
 Galler)', it may not be inopportune to point out certain 
 general princi[)les and lines of development of Sir Joshua s 
 art. 
 
4 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 
 II. 
 
 He was a South Devon man, as all the world knows, born 
 betwixt the moorland and the sea, in the little provincial 
 borough of Plympton Earl. The picture-books of his child- 
 hood, as we shall note, remained all his life long in his 
 memory, and suggested some even of his later works ; but 
 no such trace is ever found of the granite hills, amongst 
 which as a lad he must have roamed, or the changeful sea 
 by whose shore he must so often have played. Nature was 
 never his book, but the face of man and woman alone. Not 
 the granite precipice, but the lofty forehead ; not the sea- 
 hollowed cave, but the overhanging brow ; not the riven 
 hillside, but the furrowed cheek ; not withered foliage, but 
 blanched locks of hair ; not the wide landscape, in sunshine 
 and shade, in storm and calm, in summer and winter, but 
 humanity, joyous or sad, angry or peaceful, in youth or in 
 age, was the subject of all his study, the goal of his aims, 
 and itself his ' exceeding great reward.' 
 
 It was well for him, then, that he was born at a day 
 when, in the natural course of things, the individual stood out 
 so clearly from the surrounding multitude. His life was 
 passed in a time of war, when generals and admirals were 
 men versed in battles and famous among their fellows, when 
 the foundations of an empire were laid by valiant men in one 
 hemisphere, whilst they were being broken up in another ; 
 when merchants were growing wealthy, and country squires 
 were not shut out from intelligence and fame ; when the 
 
Character of the Day. 
 
 5 
 
 government was in the hands of an oHgarchy, the members of 
 which were, at all events, conscious of their own individuality, 
 and proud of their intelligence and knowledge of the world ; 
 and when society, such as we now know it, was being formed, 
 and individuals could shine by social qualities. Everywhere 
 the force of circumstances brought the individual into pro- 
 minences. Men of letters were beginning to take rank as a 
 class, and their faces were familiar to the world. l\Ien of 
 action were needed, and known on all hands. The world of 
 fashion was witty, and prided itself upon its culture and 
 refinement. \Miether for good or evil, fame was everywhere 
 ready to carry far the glory of success. In such a day 
 portrait-painting must of necessity flourish ; how, indeed, 
 would it not flourish to-day if photography had not been 
 invented ? Just as in the sixteenth century, when the first 
 great commercial epoch of modern history culminated, and 
 before the wars that succeeded tlie Reformation had para- 
 lysed industry on every hand, portrait-painting attained its 
 first great measure of success, and called into existence its 
 Holbeins, its Clouets, and its Tintorets, to raise lasting 
 memorials of the men who, in the strife of things, attained 
 pre-eminence among their fellows : so, again, in the time 
 that intervened between the opening of the modern com- 
 mercial epoch and the invention of photography similar 
 causes produced like results. A large number of portrait- 
 painters found employment ; and from amongst them the 
 great ones rose above the level of the men of the same class 
 in years of less active production. Young Joshua having, as 
 
6 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 a boy, showed some talent for drawing, his father, the clergy- 
 man-schoohiiaster, readily agreed to his adopting the career 
 of a painter ; knowing that, if only moderately successful, he 
 would certainly be able thus to earn his daily bread. 
 
 The factors that w^ent to form the boy's early style were 
 few^ and simple. He was evidently an original child in this 
 sense, that by inheritance and education he was ever eager to 
 make trial of new methods, and to strike out new lines. At 
 school he drew on the back of a Latin exercise not the 
 commonplace production of youthful genius— a horse, or a 
 cow, or a schoolfellow — but a perspective diagram, in accord- 
 ance with rules laid down in a book he had read ; so that the 
 father s criticism on the work was hardly justified, ' This is 
 drawn by Joshua in school out of pure idleness.' His own 
 native gift, coupled with his own native industry, led him 
 forward steadily enough. He copied such prints and 
 drawings as came in his way — the engravings in Dryden's 
 edition of PlutarcJis Lives and the prints in Jacob Cats' 
 Book of Einblcrns ; and so deeply did some of these subjects 
 sink into his mind, that when, in his years of greatest matu- 
 rity, he painted for Boydell the caldron scene in AlacbdJi, 
 he founded his composition upon that of one of the prints in 
 the picture-book of his childhood. 
 
 At the age of eighteen, then, he had attained a certain 
 skill of hand ; sufficient, at any rate, to warrant his being 
 bound apprentice to Hudson, w^ho was at that time the recog- 
 nised leader amongst English portrait-painters. Hudson, 
 pupil and son-in-law to Richardson, was likewise a Devon- 
 
Hudson, 
 
 7 
 
 shire man. His style is thus referred to by Tom Taylor: — 
 ' Every one who is conversant with English country-houses 
 knows Hudson's style — his inanimate, wooden men, in velvet 
 and embroidery, and periwig or bob, one hand on the hip, the 
 other in the waistcoat ; the ladies almost as unvarying, gene- 
 rally half-lengths, in white satin, with coloured bows and 
 breast-knots, or in flounced brocades, with deep lace ruffles. 
 Hudson painted solidly and simply, however; and his men 
 and women, if tame, are correctly drawn.' He was, in fact, 
 the best painter of a bad time, his style being much the same 
 as that of all his contemporaries — a faded remnant of the 
 style of the \'an Dyck imitators, who had flourished in 
 E norland since the Restoration. 
 
 With this dull but correct man the youthful Joshua was 
 brought in contact, and soon he learnt from him all he had 
 to teach. In a few months Reynolds left his master, and 
 started for himself; his paintings of this period are, it 
 is ])lain to see. done under Hudson's influence. The 
 e\i)erimenting tendency of the youth always makes itself 
 api)arent ; but, so far, he does noc venture much in new 
 paths. His works are marked by great taking of pains: 
 the brush is handled not without a certain hesitation : the 
 surface of the picture is wrought very even ; from point to 
 point the colours are melted together; there is no attempt 
 at breadth or boldness of handling. The young artist is, 
 above all things, eager that whatever he paints shall be right 
 rather than effective. His pictures are primarily to be true 
 likenesses. He places his sitter in a perfecdy simple posi- 
 
8 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 
 tion, seeking for no charm or strangeness of pose or apparel ; 
 he then sets to work to draw the features aright, and, above 
 all things, to catch the character of the face. Down to his 
 latest days he was a master in the rendering of character ; 
 and he attained his mastery, not because of any particular 
 native gift, but by long training of eye, and hand, and 
 memory. The eye can be trained to see, the memory to 
 retain, and the hand to trace, whatsoever may be required. 
 Reynolds from the first laboured after character, looked for 
 it, fixed it in his memory, and wrought and re-wrought at the 
 rendering of it, so that he became rewarded by continually 
 increasing certainty and rapidity of success. 
 
 Arrived, then, at this point, he was brought away from 
 London by his father's death towards the end of the year 
 1746, he being then twenty-three years of age. He now 
 settled in a house at Plymouth Dock, where he maintained 
 himself by his brush, and rapidly began to form relations 
 with the principal people in the neighbourhood. The im- 
 portance, however, of his removal to Plymouth lay in the 
 fact that he was there brought in contact with the paintings 
 of William Gandy of Exeter. This William Gandy's father 
 was a pupil and imitator of Van Dyck, but the son did not 
 adhere to the father's style. His works are forcible, and 
 often marked by a strong chiaroscuro, and it was by them, 
 no doubt, that Reynolds was first brought in contact with 
 the masculine genius of Rembrandt. It is reported that a 
 great impression was made upon him by Gaudy's remark, 
 that 'a picture ought to have a richness in its texture, as if 
 
l^aii Dyck's Influence. 
 
 9 
 
 the colours had been composed of cream or cheese, and the 
 reverse of a hard and husky or dry manner.' At all events, 
 the study of Gandy's works produced a great effect upon 
 our artist, and may be said to have afforded the impulse 
 which finally decided his line of advance. 
 
 The name of V^an Dyck must, from his earliest years, 
 have been one of great weight with Reynolds. Unfortunately 
 we do not know what opportunities he had, at the beginning 
 of his career, of seeing the works of that master ; upon this 
 point his sketch-books would undoubtedly throw much light, 
 were they only investigated with due care. Throughout 
 the whole of his life he was continually returning to Van 
 Dyck, ncnv and again actually copying his pictures with 
 affectionate care, now and again openly imitating him in 
 arrangement, colouring, or costume. It is clear that this 
 predilection for Van Dyck arose' very early in Reynolds ; 
 and it was natural that it should, for Van Dyck was the 
 father of modern English portrait-painting. The years that 
 he spent in England (1632-1641) were years of great 
 importance for the history of English art. The works that 
 he then painted formed the canon of later artists, and 
 every English painter for more than a century aimed at 
 imitating them, though with continually decreasing success. 
 It was natural, therefore, that Reynolds, from his boyhood, 
 should have been at all times ready to study the works of 
 this great master; and that he did so is proved not only 
 by his own paintings, but by his direct statements and 
 recommendations to others. 
 
lO 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 III. 
 
 At the beginning of 1 749, being then twenty-six years of 
 age, Reynolds started away from England for a journey 
 which lasted over three years, the greater part of the time 
 being spent in Italy. When he started the, chief factors of 
 his style, as we have shown, were drawn from the following 
 sources : his own native talent and boyish practice, and the 
 influences of Hudson, Gandy, and Van Dyck, that of the 
 last-mentioned being as yet scarcely traceable. He painted 
 several portraits on his way out, in the ship of his friend 
 Keppel, and at the places in the Mediterranean where 
 he landed ; but we need not now be concerned with 
 these. He then spent two years at Rome, two months 
 at Florence, a fortnight at Bologna, a few^ days at Parma 
 and other intermediate places, and nearly a month at 
 Venice, whence he returned to London, stopping a month 
 at Paris on the way. Probably most of his Italian sketch- 
 books and note-books remain, and it is in them that the 
 real student of Reynolds will have to search, if he is ever 
 to place before us the true story of the development of the 
 artist. Two of these books are in the British Museum and 
 two in the Soane Museum; Mr. R. Gwatkin also possessed 
 one, and others belonged to Mr. Lenox of New York. 
 
 The pictures that he copied and studied were of so 
 many schools and dates (always, however, after the year 
 1500), that it is impossible to gather from the notes 
 accessible in print what masters influenced him above the 
 
Italian Journey. 
 
 rest. A comparison of his sketches with his hiter works 
 will alone bring this to light, and that comparison is one 
 upon which we have not been able to enter. At Venice, 
 however, it is plain that Tintoret and Paul Veronese 
 attracted him most ; he admired Titian at all times, but 
 his notes upon that master's pictures are not numerous. 
 He was, it would seem, chieily interested in observing the 
 methods of distributing light employed by his various fore- 
 runners, and one of his Venetian notes indicates his mode 
 of study. ' The method I took,' he says, * to avail myself 
 of their i)rincii)les was this : — When I observed an extra- 
 ordinary effect of light and shade in any (Venetian) picture, 
 I took a leaf out of my pocket-book and darkened every 
 part of it in the same gradation of light and shade as the 
 picture, leaving the white paper untouched to represent the 
 light, and this without any attention to the subject or to 
 the drawine of the figures. A few trials of this kind will 
 be sufficient to give their conduct in the management of 
 their lights. After a few experiments I found the paper 
 blotted nearly alike. Their general practice appeared to 
 be to allow not above a (quarter of the picture for the light, 
 including in this portion both the principal and secondary 
 lights, another (piarter to be kept as dark as possible, and 
 the remaining half kept in mezzotint or half shadow. 
 Rubens appears to have admitted rather more light than 
 a (juarter. and Reml)randt much less, scarcely an eighth; 
 but it costs too much, the rest of the picture is sacrificed 
 to this one object.' 
 
 1 
 
12 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 An examination of the pictures in the Grosvenor Exhi- 
 bition seemed to show that, shortly after Reynolds's return 
 from Italy, the influence of Correggio was strongest upon 
 him, but that Tintoret's influence was most permanent. It 
 was likewise easy to find, amongst his earlier post- Italian 
 works, proofs of the attention he continued to pay to the 
 handling of light. The picture painted about 1754 of Lord 
 Cathcart, with the ' Fontenoy scar' (Grosv. No. 137), is a 
 conspicuous instance in point ; he is shown standing at a 
 balcony with a background of curtains and Italian . archi- 
 tecture, the light striking down behind him through a 
 window on the left. The whole picture is solidified by 
 light, and it is easy to see that the effects are all the result 
 of careful consideration. 
 
 Reynolds soon abandoned such attempts, and contented 
 himself instead with plain brown or else open-air landscape 
 backgrounds ; but in his sketch-portrait of Lord Bute, of 
 17^3 (Grosv. No. 59), he adopted exactly the same 
 arrangement of curtains, architecture, and light, as in the 
 'Cathcart' of 1754. Probably, in the first instance, it was the 
 influence of Rembrandt that led Reynolds to undertake this 
 long course of chiaroscuro study ; at all events, what may be 
 called his first Rembrandt period was simultaneous with his 
 Italian tour, if the evidence of two pictures can be trusted — 
 the portrait of Wilton, painted at Florence in 1752, and that 
 of Giuseppe Marchi of the following year.'" In the picture 
 
 * Both of these were exhibited at the Winter Exhibition of Old Masters 
 at the Royal Academy in 1884 (Nos. 51 and 208). 
 
He settles in London. 
 
 13 
 
 of his servant Marchi, Reynolds directly imitated Rem- 
 brandt, not alone in the treatment of the lights, but in the 
 costume — the rich red coat and the glittering turban. The 
 portrait of Wilton is of the same kind. After Reynolds 
 had been a short time in England the Rembrandt influence 
 became less strong, and that of the Italians, and particularly 
 Correggio, took its place. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When, in 1753. Reynolds settled down to spend the rest of 
 his life in London, he had certainly carried out his father's 
 sound advice, * never to be in too great a hurry to show 
 yourself to the world, but lay in first of all as strong a 
 foundation of learning and knowledge as possible.' He was 
 now ready to take rank as the leading portrait-painter in 
 r^ngland. and the work that proclaimed him such to the 
 world, at the age of thirty, was his full-length portrait of 
 the friend in whos(^ slu'i) he had started on his tour, 
 Commodore Keppel (Grosv. No. 181). The Commodore 
 is depicted walking forward along the rock-bound shore of 
 a stormy sea. His right hand is extended, and his face, 
 brighdy expressive, is turned in the same direction. His 
 hair and coat are blown about by the wind. The light 
 strikes downwards upon the figure from the right in rather 
 a mysterious manner, somewhat as Tintoret might have 
 made it. The picture has darkened much with age, but 
 must always have been one in which light took the lead 
 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 
 of colour. There is little colour in it, indeed, only certain 
 warm flesh-tints and the blue of the sleeve ; the rest is in 
 grey monochrome. Here, however, Reynolds shows his 
 mastery in catching not the expression of the face only, 
 but that of the figure too. The effect of walking forwards 
 is excellently rendered, and, moreover, the man is walking 
 forward in his own peculiar fashion. There is character 
 in the tread of the foot, in the pose of the body, in the 
 gestures of the hands, and the holding of the head. The 
 man, from head to foot, is all there. If we ask what 
 influences of other masters can be traced in the work, 
 we shall find it difficult to render a satisfactory answer. 
 Reynolds returned from Italy, even as Durer, still himself 
 He had studied much ; he had assimilated much ; but his 
 studies had not been bounded by any particular limits. He 
 had assimilated whatever he found in any quarter that was 
 worthy of assimilation. Traces of Rembrandt, of Tintoret, 
 of Correggio, perhaps of Van Dyck also, and many more, 
 might be discovered in this portrait ; but as a work of 
 art it belongs to no particular school, and could have 
 emanated from none except that which Reynolds himself 
 was founding. 
 
 When we spoke of the years 1 749-1 753 as comprising 
 his first Rembrandt period, w^e did not mean to imply that 
 during that time our artist was working exclusively under 
 Rembrandt's influence. Reynolds never, after he arrived 
 at maturity, adopted one style exclusively. Gainsborough's 
 forcible rather than elegant remark, ' D him ! how 
 
* How various lie is /' 15 
 
 various he is!' has probably been re-echoed by more 
 than one ])uzzlecl studcMit of the masters works. For it 
 often happens that two pictures painted by him simul- 
 taneously, are as different in every respect — in style of 
 colouring, in texture, in the treatment of light, and in 
 conception (that is to say, in the manner the artist looked 
 at his subject) — as if they had been the work of different 
 men wideK' sei)arated both by distance and time. Thus 
 side by side with his Rembrandtcsque pictures, he produced 
 others of aii allogclher different character, experimenting 
 now in one direction and now in another, elaboratinor various 
 styles which he adopted for awhile, then abandoned, and 
 then, perhaps after many years, suddenly returned to again. 
 ( )f this chang(,"fulness it is impossible to give examples 
 now, for it is only with the pictures before us that we 
 could ho[)e to make ourselves understood. It must, how- 
 ever, be manifest to everyone, that the chronological 
 arrangement of the master's pictures, few of which are 
 either signed or dated, is thus rendered a matter of 
 considerable difficulty, where the note-books and account- 
 books do not help us. 
 
 The portrait of Keppel, as has been remarked, made 
 Reynolds's fame, and he was soon fully employed by men 
 of every rank and station callable of commanding his 
 services. He did not spare himself, but worked with 
 extraordinary vigour, as is sufficiently shown by the fact 
 that in the year 1755 alone one hundred and twenty persons 
 sat to him for their portraits. Manifestly all these pictures 
 
1 6 Sir Joshua Rey nolds. 
 
 could not have been done wholly by his own hand. He 
 always had one or more journeymen in his employ, and his 
 practice seems to have been to begin by himself painting the 
 face, and sketching in the background and drapery, then 
 to hand the canvas over to a journeyman, who carried out 
 his instructions as to these accessories ; finally he went over 
 the work himself, glazing in the finishing touches, and thus 
 bringing the whole into harmony. It is marvellous, not- 
 withstanding this mode of proceeding, which was customary 
 at the day, how completely Reynolds impressed his own 
 individuality on to, apparently, every inch of the paintings 
 that left his studio. 
 
 V. 
 
 Thus far our work has been comparatively simple, for the 
 line of the artist's development has been single and not 
 hard to follow. From this point, however, various lines 
 have to be traced simultaneously, and they cross and recross 
 one another in the most confusing fashion. We may divide 
 Reynolds's pictures into the following classes : groups, whole- 
 length figures of men, whole-length figures of women, three- 
 quarter-length men, three-quarter-length women, half-length 
 men, half-length women, heads, pictures of children, pictures 
 of a mother and her child, and ideal pictures. This classi- 
 fication is more scientific than would seem probable to a 
 mere reader. A brief inspection of the pictures themselves 
 is enough to show that for every form of picture Reynolds 
 
Reynolds, 
 Lady Ccckburn and her C/iildrer, 
 
Chssification of Pici tires. 
 
 17 
 
 developed a separate style. It is fairly obvious, for example, 
 that all his half-leni^^th ladies are painted by one artist ; it is 
 likewise clear that all the ladies' full-lengths come from a 
 single source ; but a spectator might well be forgiven for 
 imagining that the half-lengths and the full-lengths were 
 by different men. We cannot, of course, attem[)t now to 
 trace the growth and changes of all these different styles, 
 it shall be sufficient if wc take one or two groups of works 
 as examples of the rest. 
 
 The full-length portraits of ladies form, perhaps, the 
 most clearh' defined class by themselves. It is probable 
 that Sir Joshua looked upon these as his greatest works, 
 at all events in portraiture. They jiresent many points of 
 peculiarity of treatment, all of which may be summed up in 
 the statement that the)' are not pictures of women, but 
 of n) inphs. In Rt:\ nolds's fourth I )isc()urse. delivered as 
 President of the R()\al Academ\-, he makes the following 
 statement, which is im[)()rtant in the present connexion. 
 ' On the whole,' he sa) s, ' it seems to me that there is but 
 one presiding principle which regulates and gives stability 
 to every art. The works, whether of poets, i)ainters, 
 moralists, or historians, Avhich are built upon general nature, 
 li\ e for e\'er ; while those which depend for their existence 
 on j)articular customs and habits, a partial \ iew of nature, 
 or the lluctuations of fashion, can only be coeval with that 
 which first raised them from obscurity.' This statement 
 contains an element of truth ; for it is certain that, when 
 an artist devotes himself to the representation of humanity, 
 
 c 
 
i8 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 pure and simple, as he beholds it before his eyes, he bases 
 his art upon a foundation which endures for ever and 
 extends to the ends of the earth. 
 
 But Sir Joshua did not so understand himself. He 
 thought that when he painted men, women, and children, 
 as they w^ere, in their own clothes of every day, busied 
 about their little every-day affairs, he was painting pictures 
 founded, not upon general nature, but on the fluctuations of 
 fashion. He conceived that a portrait of the higher kind 
 should be carried oat of the atmosphere of fashion, that 
 the lady should be dressed not in her wonted garments, 
 but in some generalised drapery — ' drapery,' as he said, 
 'and nothing more;' that her occupation should be of a 
 general kind, and not belonging to a particular day ; that 
 her character should be the character of the female sex in 
 general, not that proper to a particular person of a particular 
 rank. There was an element of truth in this, and his theory 
 would have been strong for good had it led him to forget 
 everything in the one great fact of humanity, had it led 
 him to look at each woman for the sake of her womanliness 
 and nothing more, to pierce into that, penetrate it to the 
 last secret of character, and set down the tender woman as 
 tender, the true of heart as true, the pure as pure, the 
 wanton as wanton. Sir Joshua did this, indeed, but only 
 when he forgot his theory, and that was seldom in the 
 case of full-length portraits of women. 
 
 Take, as example, the picture of Elizabeth Gunning as 
 Duchess of Hamilton. Who knows not the fame of the 
 
Elizabeth Giiuiiing. 
 
 19 
 
 Gunnings ? the rage they caused, almost unbelievable in 
 these days ; peers and peeresses scrambling on to tables 
 and chairs at Court to get a glimpse of them ? Certainly 
 they must have possessed extraordinary attractions of some 
 kind, over and above a high order of mere beauty. Of all 
 this, however, Sir Joshua gives us no hint in the picture 
 of the year 1758 (Grosv. No. 26). The lady, larger than 
 life, stands in the open air, resting against a sculptured 
 marble pedestal ; she is dressed in long, sweeping, clinging 
 drapery, with an ermine cloak fallen from her shoulders. 
 Black hair waves down over one shoulder, and shows up 
 in strong contrast tlie i\'ory-textured skin of face and neck. 
 Everywhere there are sweeping outlines, which flow together 
 in long rhythmic curves from head to feet. In the face, 
 however, delicately though the features are delineated, there 
 is no special character, unless, indeed, a general languor 
 about the whole be accepted as such. 
 
 It is not, indeed, the picture of a woman. This nymph 
 in her impossible garments, what is she doing out there in 
 the forest, and how did that sculptured marble thing come 
 there ? A glance shows that the whole is an impossibility ; 
 it is not a realised fact, but an illustration to some eighteenth- 
 century Poem or Romance. Its atmosphere is the atmosphere 
 of Rasselas, let us say, but you cannot transport human 
 beings into such a world without completely obliterating 
 their humanity. Sir Joshua would have told you that he 
 was trying to represent the lady not in her own particular 
 surroundings, but removed to a sphere where the particular 
 
20 
 
 Sir J osh It a Reynolds. 
 
 was merged into the general. As a matter of fact, he was 
 doing what a man must always do if he attempts hypocrisy 
 of that kind ; he was founding his work, not upon nature 
 and fact, but upon the taste of a day. He was making of 
 a real woman the kind of nymph that fashion then liked 
 her minstrels to sing about, with such little voices as 
 fashion's minstrels usually possess. 
 
 There is no such thing as general nature. If you 
 abandon one set of particulars you must adopt another ; 
 and Reynolds made the miserable exchange of an actual 
 world of fact, in which many a noble one still found it 
 possible to act with uprightness and truth, for an impossible 
 world of diseased fancy, existing only for a dilettanti clique 
 in a dilettanti day. It is in this style that the full-length 
 portraits of ladies are painted. Now and again an excep- 
 tionally human picture appears, such as that of Lady 
 Glandore, of 1779 (Acad. 1884, No. 148), but these only 
 serve to bring out the peculiarities of the rest by contrast. 
 In the famous 'Mrs. Pelham feeding Chickens,' of 1770 
 (Grosv. No. 9), the human element likewise predominates, 
 and it is to this fact that the picture owes its popularity. 
 There is nothing general about the chickens, or the farm- 
 house, or the simple flowered chintz frock ; and if only the 
 lady were more concerned with the fowls and less with the 
 spectator, or rather with her effect upon him, the work 
 would be one of vSir Joshua's best. 
 
 It would be easy to say much of the development of this 
 nymph style ; for, like all Sir Joshua's styles, it has its periods 
 
Half-Ioigtlis of Ladies. 
 
 21 
 
 and its stai^cs. The Duchess of Buccleuch, of 1772 (Grosv. 
 No. 41), is perhaps one of the least pleasing of all ; for the 
 proud lady, in her ermine and yellow and white, sitting on a 
 rustic seat against a tree, in the branches of which hangs a 
 huge, useless red curtain, is about as unnaturally circum- 
 stanced and unhuman as can possibly be. The best of the 
 set is the [)icture of Mrs. l iirale and her daughter, of 1781 
 (Grosv. No. 127), and it is not difficult to see why. ]\Irs. 
 Thrale was a woman so completely fashioned according to 
 the taste of her day, that she became little more than the 
 incarnation of it. She lived, as far as she could, uj) to the 
 standard of a nympli. Her ideas, her manners, her mode of 
 life, were artificial. 'Huis Rey nolds, in {)ainting lier and her 
 daughter in their flowing silk drapery, seated nymph-like in 
 the woods, painted them in their own characters, or rather in 
 the characters they were continually striving to assume. 
 
 VL 
 
 To this group of full-lengths the half-lengths of ladies form 
 the strongest possible contrast, b'or some reason or other, 
 Sir Joshua never strove, in them, after the same kind of 
 generalisation. He perhaps looked upon the half-lengths as 
 works of less importance ; at all events, he was satisfied in 
 them to take his subject as he found her, and to set her down 
 so, to tlie best of his great power. Hence it is these same 
 half-lengths that form the best class of his works. In them 
 his rare insight into character, his excellent feeling for femi- 
 
22 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 nine grace, his felicity in the attainment of all wealth of 
 colour, brightness of light, warmth of shadow, and richness of 
 texture find unbounded scope. Moreover, he unconsciously 
 betrays the important fact, that he derived more genuine 
 pleasure from work of this kind, than from the more pompous 
 ideal pictures which the taste of his day forced him to con- 
 sider greater art. For, from the very first, it is clear that 
 upon these less pretentious paintings he lavished greater and 
 happier pains than upon his large full-lengths ; all of which 
 are much more swiftly painted, and carried to a far less 
 complete point of finish. 
 
 One of the earliest of the half-lengths, for instance, is the 
 Mrs. Field, of 1748 (Grosv. No. 195), already referred to. 
 In that the painful care of the young artist is apparent to the 
 most casual spectator. The Lady Caroline Keppel, of 1755 
 (Grosv. No. T23), shows remarkable progress. She is full- 
 face, leaning forward, and resting on a table with her arms 
 folded. The position, therefore, is one of repose, easily 
 maintained for a long period ; and the artist accordingly set 
 himself to catch the expression of the face to the last point of 
 truth, and he has succeeded in fixing for ever the subdued 
 smile and happy glance of a countenance more than or- 
 dinarily amiable. As in all the works of this early period 
 (except the full-lengths), one of the chief characteristics is the 
 care with which the face is modelled. Cheeks and brows are 
 rounded into definite solid form ; and that not by any trick of 
 handling, but by thoughtful labour, every stroke of the brush 
 being laid with fixed intention and producing a corresponding 
 
Reynolds, 
 Pickaback. Mrs. Payne Galhvey. 
 
Carefulness of Handling. 
 
 23 
 
 effect. Moreover, the traces of the brush are not indi- 
 vidually discoverable, but are carefully wrought one into 
 another, the whole surface being rendered smooth as enamel. 
 Such is, again, the case with the three-quarter length Lad)' 
 Holland, of 1758 (Grosv. No. 74), a picture which belongs 
 inseparably to this group. She is seated full-face, working at 
 a piece of embroidery ; and the [)icture is specially remark- 
 able because it shows once again the great line of Reynolds's 
 advance, namely, his steadily increasing power in repre- 
 senting people as alive. Here the lady is full of animation 
 in the truest sense ; she has dr()i)ped her hands and work 
 into her lap, whilst she looks brightly forward at the spec- 
 tator, and in a moment her lips will o[)en with words of 
 kindly greeting. Her quick intelligence and capacious sym- 
 pathies are clearly visible, and yet there is nothing forced 
 into prominence ; the work is so good because it is so modest 
 and unpretending. The artist wins his greatest praise when 
 he forgets himself and his theories, and lets his subject live 
 in his stead ; for in [)ainting, as in everything else, ' he that 
 loseth his life shall find it.' 
 
 Thus far Reynolds had found his powers full)- occupied 
 by the attempt to render truly the best expression and most 
 characteristic posture in rest of the person before him ; but 
 after the year 1 760, we cannot fail to observe that his loyal 
 veracity begins to earn an increasing reward. With every 
 year, as it passes, he may be seen seizing with more certainty 
 and ease those qualities which before had only been won 
 by dint of painful toil. His mind was, therefore, set at 
 
24 
 
 Sir J osh ua Reynolds. 
 
 liberty, as it were, to play around his subject. Hencefor- 
 ward, he not only renders the likeness with increasing truth, 
 but he is for ever adding new charms of light and colour 
 and texture and tasteful costume, to the foundation charm 
 of life. The 'Blue Lady,' of 1761 (Grosv. No. 79), is an 
 early instance of this new departure. The face is still painted 
 delicately and modelled with care, but there is a novel bold- 
 ness in the treatment of the bright blue dress, done probably 
 enough in rivalry with Gainsborough ; and not only so, but 
 what is more important, all the colours of the picture are 
 related harmoniously together — are mutually dependent, like 
 the notes in a musical chord : and, moreover, that harmony 
 is the one best fitted to be a setting for the melody upon 
 which the wiiole depends — the character, namely, of the 
 lady herself. From this time forward Sir Joshua advances 
 unhesitatingly along the lines he had. thus laid down. The 
 charms of the charming Mrs. Abingdon as ' Miss Prue,' of 
 T764 (Grosv. No. 7), are the same carried to a further stage 
 of development ; the artfully artless maid is to be read in 
 every line of the face, and every gesture of shoulder, arm, 
 and hand. Costume, pose, and all else, are in keeping ; and 
 the whole is likewise bright and pleasant to the eye in play 
 of light and chequerwork of colour, from whatever distance 
 it may be seen. 
 
 Passing over another decade, we come to the Mrs. Morris, 
 of 1775 (Grosv. No. 89), a picture which possesses all the 
 charms that the heart can desire. Mystery of light and 
 joy of subdued but harmonious colouring, richness of texture, 
 
The Reward of Care. 
 
 25 
 
 rhythm of Hue, and balance of mass — everything, in fact, 
 that art can accomplish in this kind is there. The work is 
 honest, the finish excellent, the painting of the drapery and 
 that of the skin each equally good in its own way. And 
 over and above all, and without which all else would be 
 nothing worth, the woman is there in the fulness of her 
 humanity, seen into by an eye trained to look, and set down 
 so for ever by a hand trained to describe. With the picture 
 itself before us, it would be interesting to trace out in detail 
 the very subtle manner in which the harmony of tint is 
 attained, the main masses of colour in one part being echoed 
 elsewhere in fainter tones. b>om this time forward it is 
 hardly possible to speak of Sir Joshua as having progressed. 
 He enlarged the area covered by his styles, he painted works 
 of one kind and another of ecjually high merit ; but he never 
 surpassed, or ccnild surpass, this perfect work. 
 
 The pictures made between i 7S0 and 17S9, in which year 
 he began to lose his eyesight, fall into a class by themselves. 
 None of them are finished with the same care as the Mrs. 
 Morris; and, if they show progress, it is not in execution, but 
 in insight into character. Progress of that kind Reynolds 
 maintained till the last day he handled a brush. The por- 
 traits of the Countess Spencer with a large hat, of 1782 
 (Cirosv. No. 124); Miss Fanny Kemble, of 1783 (Grosv. 
 No. 142); the Marchioness of Thomond, of 1784 (Grosv. 
 No. 177); Lady de Clifibrd, of 1786 (Grosv. No. 117) ; and, 
 above all, Lady Elizabeth Foster, of 1787 (Grosv. No. 150), 
 are, in every case, superb. \w most of them the ladies wear 
 
26 Sir J OS kit a Reynolds. 
 
 that widely-frizzed and powdered hair, which no one except a 
 skilled artist could satisfactorily treat ; but this and all other 
 minor difficulties Sir Joshua overcame without appearing to 
 feel them. The Lady E. Foster is before a mottled blue 
 sky, treated (not for the love of it, as sky, but only for the 
 love of her) as a pleasant and harmonious background to her 
 charming face, gentle and rather coy, as it is, with its sweet 
 smile, half grave, half gay, and the eyes so large and dark, 
 sunk in the liquid shadows that lurk beneath arched and 
 gracious brows. It is a most beautiful picture, and yet the 
 lady is not herself very beautiful ; there are many faults of 
 form about the mouth and elsewhere. Reynolds, however, 
 has seen further than the mere forms of the face at rest. 
 He has animated it with the fair expression of a beautiful 
 mind ; he has set it amidst such surroundings of colour 
 and costume as were best and most expressive ; and by so 
 doing, he has shed over it a larger and nobler beauty than 
 any chill accuracy of sculpturesque forms could have pos- 
 sessed ; he has demanded of the admiring spectator the 
 exercise of higher qualities of admiration than those which 
 arise from the sight of merely animal beauty. 
 
 VII. 
 
 We can only treat now of one more type of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's works, and that being so, we will confine our 
 attention to his portraits and pictures of Children. It was 
 but natural that, immediately after his return from Italy, 
 
R F Y S OL PS. 
 
 Lwvlnia Bing/unif afrcrtvards the Qjuntcss Spcrccr 
 
i 
 
Mother and Child. 
 
 27 
 
 he should be haunted with the memory of a multitude of 
 pictures of the Virgin and Child, which had formed a main 
 part of the subjects of his study for so long. The pictures 
 of a mother and her babe, so many of which he afterwards 
 painted, are all more or less impregnated with the old 
 religious spirit, thus unconsciously revived. One of the 
 first of the kind is the portrait of Lady Cathcart and her 
 child, of 1755 ((irosv. Xo. 71), and in this Italian influence 
 is most unmistakable. The mother sits uprightK , with a 
 kindly glance from her eyes, indeed, but still w ith much of 
 the dignity of a Madonna. The child is rather an echo 
 from a picture than a study from the life. It is a little 
 shrinking thing, neither beautiful nor fascinating, scantily 
 clothed in a manner more suited for Italian sunshine than 
 English damps. Were it to raise; its hand w ith the gesture 
 of benediction, the group would be turned at once into a 
 Virgin and Chikl of orthodox t)i)e. 'i1ie full-length of 
 Lady Pollington and her little boy, painted in 1762 ((irosv. 
 No. 113), is of course a work of totally different kind. 
 The picture does not belong to the class of n\ niphs, but 
 to one we have not yet alluded to, that of pe()[)le portrayed 
 for the sake of their robes. Sir Joshua painted a good many 
 peers and peeresses in this way — two pompous portraits of 
 the Duke of Cumberland, for instance, and a full-length of 
 Lady Waldegrave, of 1759 (Grosv. No. 152)- — and in 
 almost every case it is evident that the garments are the 
 real subject of the picture, whilst the human being beneath 
 them shrinks into a mere lay figure. An exception to this 
 
28 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 apparently almost invariable rule is the three-quarter length 
 portrait of the Marquis of Rockingham in the robes of the 
 Garter, of 1774 (Grosv. No. 162). He alone rises superior 
 to his raiment, and by his brightly intelligent face, full of 
 other thoughts than those of his own appearance, attracts 
 the attention of the spectator away from the fluttering 
 glories of his attire. Lady Pollington, however, is swallowed 
 up in her robes and her coronet, and has no sympathies to 
 spare, if any could possibly be forthcoming, for the little 
 dressed-up doll of a boy who runs along at her feet. The 
 whole picture is one of costume and ceremony, and possesses 
 no human interest whatsoever. 
 
 Seven years later, however, we already find the master 
 risen to higher things. In 1769 he painted the charming 
 picture of the Countess Spencer, with her arms round the 
 waist of her child, who stands on a table by her side,* and 
 the still more charming fancy-piece called ' Hope nursing 
 Love' (Acad. 1884, No. 18). Both of these pictures are 
 characterised by that closeness of connexion between the 
 parent and the child, which Reynolds at last succeeded in 
 attaining to so remarkable a degree. It is no longer an 
 upright woman with anybody's child seated upright on her 
 lap ; but in these, and in all the later pictures of this type, 
 
 * Grosv. No. 157. This picture (a three-quarter length) is of special 
 interest because there exists another canvas (Grosv. No. 199), upon which 
 Reynolds had begun to paint the same subject as a half-length, the only 
 difference being that the child is on the other side of her mother. We are 
 thus enabled to watch the commencement and the completion of the work. 
 
Rf.ynolds. 
 Miss Bowks, 
 
Tlic Duchess of Devon shire 
 
 29 
 
 mother and child lorni parts, as it were, of one orq^anism, 
 smile together w itli the same thrill of joy, move toi^^ether 
 with the same motion, and are wholly and \ isibly one in 
 happy life. C)f course the most perfect work of the kind 
 is the famous Duchess of Devonshire^ and her child, of 1786 
 (Grosv. No. <Si ). There, the mother swinj^ini;- her laui^hino^ 
 babe on her arm, while it tosses up its little hands and kicks 
 out its little feet in delight, is the incarnation of ' all that 
 ever was jo) ous and clear and fresh ' upon this earth of 
 ours. l)Ut such a work could not be produced by a \ouno' 
 artist, and was onl)- possible to Re\ iiolcls late in life. The 
 perfc^ct unit)' which locks to<^ether all the little <^^estures 
 and expressions of the two, just caught in the midst of 
 movement and laiij^hter, could onK be attained by a man 
 whose memor\ was stored with the results ot loni^' and 
 loving;- study of m.uu" such happ\' incidents in happ\ tamily 
 life. 
 
 Of cotirs(; Sir Joshua's proi^ress in power of paintino- 
 Mother and Child depended in great measure, though not 
 entirely, u[)on his progress in the painting of Children. It 
 is i)erhaps scarcely surprising, but it must not be forgotten, 
 that this power w as one of the latest which I\e\ nolds 
 ac(|uired. In his early portraits of children he almost 
 always worked strongly under the inlluencc: of other artists, 
 especially of I)\ck. It was long bc-fore he felt himself 
 able to stand alone- on this most difficult ground. His hrst 
 reall}' independent picture of a child was not jjainted till 
 1767. It is the picture of Miss Cholmondeley 'crossing the 
 
30 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 brook' (Grosv. No. 57). She has tucked up her Httle 
 petticoats, taken off her Httle shoes, and picked up her 
 fluffy dog, which she holds stoutly with both arms, almost 
 squeezing the life out of the dismayed beast. This picture 
 is not in the manner of Van Dyck, or any one else, but is 
 pure open-air English, full of the spirit of country life and 
 free, joyous childhood ; and the moment Reynolds had 
 caught that spirit he never lost it again. Sometimes, 
 indeed, he goes back to Van Dyck for his costumes and 
 one thing and another — and why should he not ? — but the 
 gladness of childhood is the main subject of his picture, 
 and all the rest is visibly a mere tasteful addition. 
 
 It would seem that about 1773 he discovered that his 
 power in this line was ripe ; at any rate, in that year he 
 painted a great many children with obvious delight — ^Emilia 
 Vansittart (Grosv. No. 25), for instance, and the ' Strawberry 
 Girl '(Grosv. No. 86), and 'Mrs. Hartley romping with her 
 Child' (Grosv. No. 139). In all of these pictures the found- 
 ation of his success is the same ; it is the fact that he seeks in 
 each child for the evidences of its character as a child. He 
 shows himself an. observer of childish ways; he notes all their 
 little shynesses and coynesses, never trying to draw them 
 out of themselves, or making them behave otherwise than 
 naturally, but catching them in those moments when, of all 
 others, they were most true to themselves. Now and again 
 he forgets that this is the foundation of his strength, and 
 whenever he d'oes so he fails lamentably. The picture of 
 Master Wynn as the Infant St. John (Grosv. No. 18), 
 
Pictures of Children. 
 
 31 
 
 painted in 1776, is a complete failure, and so is the Lord 
 Porchester as Infant I^acchus, amonf( a number of badly 
 stuffed lions, done in the same year (Grosv. No. 76). 
 Whenever, too, he tries his hand at painting- a Baby 
 Moses, or a ' Babe with Angels,' or anything of that kind, 
 he attains a less measure of success than in his frankly 
 natural things ; and the same- is the case with such pictures 
 as the ' J^'elina,' the ' Robinetta,' and the * Muscipula,' in 
 which he tried to infuse into the face of the child some- 
 thing of the character of a bird or a cat. The Infant 
 Hercules, too, strangling serpents in his cradle, failed for a 
 similar reason, and the onh' exception to this rule (and that 
 is but an apparent exception) is tlu! i)icture of the Cherubs' 
 Heads in the National Gallery, of 1 7S6. Mad Reynolds 
 never been in Italy, and never heard talk, and talked 
 himself about the ' grand st\ U' ' in painting, he would not 
 have thought of wandering thus off the track that his own 
 delicrht and his own skill marked clearlv out for him. Truth 
 to say, he wandc:red off it but seldom, and (excepting the 
 Hercules) all the pictures that he painted of ideal children 
 are quickly done and lightly finished, so that he wasted little 
 time over them. 
 
 About 1777 he attained maturity as painter of children, 
 and that maturit)' is marked by the fact that, henceforth his 
 attention is not so much occu[)ie(l with the ditliculties of liis 
 task, but that he has some to spare for the frolics of his sub- 
 ject. He often paints the little children now as naively 
 acting little parts, dressed as grown-up people perhaps, but 
 
32 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 always maintaining their childishness supreme. Such a 
 picture is the inimitable 'Fortune-tellers' (Grosv. No. 146); 
 and such, again, is the charming group of the Parker children 
 (Grosv. No. 145) as a pair of lovers, the little girl sitting 
 so coyly there while the boy lets his arm creep timidly round 
 her waist. Another picture, which partakes of somewhat 
 the same character, is the portrait of the young Duke of 
 Gloucester, of 1780 (Grosv. No. 53, belonging to Trin. 
 Coll. Cambridge), standing pompously on the top of a hill 
 against the blue sky, with his large feathered hat in the 
 hand that rests on his walking-stick, his fine cloak worn 
 with such an air, and over it all his little face looking 
 childishly conscious of the dignity he has already learned 
 to put on. 
 
 At once a companion and a contrast to this is the 
 maiden known as ' Collina,' painted in the preceding year 
 (Grosv. No. 153). She stands, in perfect sweetness and 
 simplicity, on the top of a hillock, with her beautifully 
 rounded face under a wealth of dark curling hair ; her dress 
 is tucked up all about her waist, and shows the most dapper 
 and coy little feet }'ou can possibly imagine. All this, how- 
 ever, will be within the memory of the reader ; it is likewise 
 only necessary to mention the names of the ' Simplicity ' and 
 'Innocence,' painted in the years 1787 and 1 788, to remind 
 him how Reynolds developed his powers of dealing with 
 children up to the very last. 
 
 We have thus briefly reviewed Sir Joshua's development 
 as a painter of children and young girls, but we have said 
 
Reynolds. 
 Mjttcr Crc^uc, in the Costume of Henry J 'II I, 
 
Pictures of Boys. 
 
 33 
 
 nothing of his schoolboys. Even a schoolboy ciin often 
 depict his kind with tolerable force and accuracy ; hence it 
 is not surprising" that our artist attained success in this line 
 long before he had learnt to depict babies and little girls. 
 His picture of Lord Warwick as a boy, painted in 1756 
 (Grosv. No. 201), leav^es little to be desired. He is a solemn 
 lad, wanting in every trace of the frolicsome boyishness that 
 we afterwards find ; but he is a boy all the same, if rather a 
 stupid one. The first really excellent boy's portrait in the 
 Grosvenor Exhibition was that of the young scholar with a 
 big portfolio under his arm, i)ainted in 1777 (Xo. 192). 
 Out of those large dark eyes, which look full at you from 
 beneath a shaggy thatching of hair, the whole of boy nature 
 brightly glances. There is in them all the latent i)Otentiality 
 of mischief, laughter, ([uick intelligence, straightforwardness, 
 and all other (pialities which characterise the genus. The 
 same observations hold tru(! of the * Reading i)oy," of 17S4 
 (Grosv. No. 90) ; though he is more studiously disposed, 
 there is the same undercurrent of frolic and fun \isil)ly 
 present in him. 
 
 Youths on the borders of nianhood are treated b\- Sir 
 Joshua in a st\le of their own. if full-lengths, they are 
 painted in rich costumes of Wan Dyck fashion; and these 
 pictures possess much the same qualities as the group of 
 full-length ladies. The half-lengths are far better, and, 
 indeed, it would be difficult to choose three pictures of any 
 single year su[)eri()r to the three portraits of young men of 
 1782 — to wit, the Duke of Hamilton, aged sixteen (Cirosv. 
 
 1) 
 
34 
 
 Sir Josh ua Rey nolds. 
 
 No. 99); ' Vathek ' Beckford, aged twenty-one (Grosv. No. 
 186) ; and Richard Burke, aged twenty-four, but looking some 
 years less (Grosv. No. 93). These three pictures, not alone 
 in richness of colouring, which is common to them all, but 
 in a certain distinction of appearance, a look of good breeding 
 in its truest sense, as well as in richness of life and youthful 
 vigour, clouded indeed in two cases by an affectation of 
 languor, stand above all others that Sir Joshua painted in 
 this kind. They serve as a further signal of the secret of 
 the master's success, which lay, not in any particularly wide 
 compass of intellectual gifts, though in these he was no- 
 wise deficient, nor in any extraordinary diligence, though in 
 that also he did not fail, but in the fact that he applied his 
 gifts and his labour to the right ends. He attacked each 
 subject with true generalship, and arrayed his forces so as 
 to make them tell to the uttermost. In children he looked 
 for the child, in boys for the evidences of bo3ashness, in 
 maidens for maidenliness, and in men for manliness and the 
 expression of judgment and will. Other artists may have 
 given a more comprehensive embodiment of the all-round 
 character of their subjects, they may have known how to 
 render a greater complexity of expression, but none has 
 succeeded more admirably in catching the tone of a man 
 at a particular moment, catching him in the midst of an 
 action and setting him down thus, with the fire in his eye 
 and the word on his lips ; and this power, to which Reynolds 
 attained, if not the highest and the rarest of all, is still very 
 high and very rare in the annals of art. 
 
THOMAS GAINSBOROUGH. 
 
 (Born 1727; died 17SS.) 
 I. 
 
 TWK story of an artist's life is the explanation of 
 his works. But that stor\' cannot always be told. 
 Changes of abode, the makini^ ot new acquaintances, the 
 opening up new fields of study and interest, occurrences of 
 a seemingly accidental nature — these, and the like e\ents. 
 mark definite stages in the growth of some characters, and 
 enable the student to point with certainty to the leading 
 forces by which a man has been moulded and fashioned 
 into greatness. But the growth of other men, destined to 
 attain ecjual heights, is as the growth of a tree — silent, 
 continuous, and untncntful. The)- wa.x steadiK' from year 
 to year. They are nourished by whatever surrounds them 
 at the time. They make no sudden starts ahead, neither 
 do they linger in their increase. It is the little occurrences 
 that, from moment to moment, make them what they be- 
 conie. You cannot block out their careers into periods. 
 No bold lines of division sunder them for )-ou into epochs. 
 Only the deeds and productions of such men tell the tale 
 of their days, and you may almost neglect the circumstances 
 and events of their environment. 
 
36 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 Such a contrast might be drawn between Beato An- 
 geh'co and Raphael. It is enough to remember about the 
 former that as a lad he became a Dominican friar ; and 
 that thenceforward he painted in calm seclusion. His 
 biographers tell us how he lived in this and the other 
 town at different periods of his life ; but his pictures mani- 
 fest no corresponding changes of style. Such as the youth 
 was, such also, only more advanced, was the man. If he 
 studied the works of other painters, he never suffered their 
 influence to affect the clear statement of his own ideas. 
 He progressed evenly and continuously on the lines his 
 own simple character marked out for him ; and when he 
 had done his work, he passed away quietly as he had 
 come. With Raphael, on the contrary, it is altogether 
 different. From childhood to maturity he underwent one 
 new influence after another, and his pictures manifest each 
 in turn. Now it is Timoteo Viti that he follows, now 
 Perugino, Lionardo, Fra Bartolommeo, or Michelangelo. 
 His movements from place to place brought him in contact 
 with new personalities ; and his art always showed the 
 effects of the atmosphere that surrounded the artist. The 
 life of such a man admits of being written — a knowledge 
 of its main features is essential to a proper understanding 
 of his works ; but the life of a Fra Angelico cannot be 
 written, for it consisted not in outward changes, but in an 
 inward growth. His pictures themselves tell all, or almost 
 all, that a student of them requires to know. 
 
 In this respect Gainsborough resembles the Dominican 
 
Outline of III s Life. 
 
 37 
 
 friar, though in this only. The events of his hfe were 
 few, and his art was little affected by them. For clearness' 
 sake they may be set down at this point. Thomas Gains- 
 borough was born in 1727 at Sudbury in Suffolk. His 
 father was a crape-maker and a dextrous fencer ; his mother 
 possessed some skill in painting llowers ; his brothers showed 
 a good deal of mechanical ingenuity ; and the whole family, 
 Thomas included, were marked by an attractive, harum- 
 scarum disposition. As a lad the futures artist roamed and 
 sketched about the country round Sudlnirx . When fourteen 
 years old he was sent to learn ])ainting in London; and 
 he studied there for three years in the ,St. Martin's Lane 
 Academy. After an ineffectual attempt to set w\) for himself 
 in the metropolis, he return(xl to Suffolk, married a lady with 
 200/. a-year, and settled down at Ipswicii. lie removed to 
 Bath in 1 760, and remained there till 1774; w hen he; came 
 to Schomberg House, Pall Mall, London. In 17S0 the: 
 musician Fischer ran away with his daughter Mar\. In 
 1783 he made a tour in the Lake District. In the summer 
 months, during his residence in London, he had lodgings at 
 Richmond. b^inalK", in 1 7SS, he went to sc:e the trial of 
 Warren Hastings, caught cold there, and, after a few months' 
 sickness, he died, and was buried at Kew. 
 
 The man was thoughtlessly generous, impulsi\e, capri- 
 cious, uneven. He was a livel)', rattling talker, excellent 
 at repartee. ' The swallow in her airy course never skimmed 
 a surface so light as Gainsborough touched all subjects ; 
 that bird could not fear drowning more than he dreaded 
 
38 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 deep disquisitions.' He might have had the society of the 
 learned, he preferred that of the froHcsome. He haunted the 
 green-room, loved actors and musicians, and they loved him. 
 He basked in the sunshine of life, and would soon have 
 perished in the shade. He rejoiced in the jolly creed, 
 ' We are all going to heaven, and Van Dyck is of the 
 company.' The book of Nature — thank the gods! — was 
 library enough for him. A sun-carpeted bank of grass 
 was a volume of natural science worth all the philosophy 
 in the world to his merry mood. Music gladdened him, 
 and the play was pleasant in his eyes ; but we never hear 
 of his caring for poetry, except in the form of a jovial song. 
 
 His natural bent was evident enough ; and no sturdy 
 mentor presided over his youth, to restrain him from what- 
 ever waywardness his fancy might decree. On the contrary, 
 fortune handed him over to Hayman, arch-rake and deeply- 
 versed Bohemian ; and under his guidance, at the early 
 age of fifteen, he made acquaintance with the ins and outs 
 of London. From childhood his eye had been open to 
 all fair sights. ' There was not,' as he himself declared, 
 ' a picturesque clump of trees, nor even a single tree of 
 any beauty — no ! nor hedgerow, stem, or post/ in or around 
 his native place, which was not fixed in his memory from 
 his very earliest years. The delight of the eye in the fair 
 sights of nature was an inborn passion with him. He did 
 not care to investigate or understand, he loved to gaze. 
 His study of the book of Nature was confined to turning 
 over the pages and looking at the pictures. He rejoiced in 
 
Character of his ^1 i t. 
 
 39 
 
 the outsides of things if they \vere prettily formed, prettil\- 
 coloured, prettil}' h't, prettily combined. He did not care 
 about meanings or intentions, and neither looked for them 
 in nature nor made them the basis of his art. 
 
 The external was his field of labour and delight — the 
 look of nature and the look of man. He did not trouble 
 himself about manifesting one's character in his portrait : 
 he wanted to produce a likeness, and at the same time to 
 paint as pretty a picture as he could. His whole life long- 
 he went on endeavouring to make his pictures prettier and 
 prettier. This was his single, all-sufficient aim. He was 
 not the kind of man to try all manner of st\ les and experi- 
 ments, as Reynolds did. He was the opjiosite of Rey nolds 
 in almost every respect, excei)t that the two were con- 
 temporaneous, and so subject to the governance of the 
 same social and economical forces. Reynolds walked by 
 faith, Gainsborough by sight. Reynolds was under tlu> 
 inlUience of theory, and was botli hindered and helj^ed by 
 tradition and the belief in the '(irand St\ le.' Gainsboroueh 
 was free from every kind of pedantr)', good, bad, and indif- 
 ferent. Rc;ynolds listened to the counsels of poets, his- 
 torians, men of letters. Gainsborough troubled his head 
 about nothing of the kind. He was a free child of Nature, 
 endowed by birthright with the purest artistic spirit. His 
 great virtue was that he ga\e that spirit free play, and 
 followed whithersoever its whims and ])ranks led him. lUit 
 a truce to generalities ! let us look at the works of the 
 youth and the man ! 
 
40 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 II. 
 
 Here, then, is ' Tom Peartree's Portrait ' (Grosv. No. 395) 
 to begin with — a bust of a man leaning his face on his 
 arms, as though looking over a wall ; the whole painted on 
 a board, which has been cut away to the outline of the 
 figure. The thing was painted about the time of Gains- 
 borough's pupilage in London, from a sketch made in his 
 boyhood on a well-known occasion. The lad was one day 
 sketching at home in a summer-house, overlooking an 
 orchard, when his eye rested on a man gazing long and 
 intently at the fruit over the orchard wall. Presently he 
 was observed to scale it with thievish intent, but not before 
 the young artist had fixed his lineaments upon one of the 
 pages of his sketch-book. This is the earliest recorded 
 instance of Gainsborough's habit of seizing the subjects 
 chance threw in his way. 
 
 A sketch of a boy's head (Grosv. No. 41), painted years 
 afterwards, when Gainsborough was visiting at Burton 
 Grange, near Taunton, is another example of a similar 
 impromptu. Gainsborough had employed a village boy to 
 grind colours for him. ' Returning suddenly to the room, 
 he found the boy assiduously trying to copy something on 
 a piece of board, while looking up intently, as if for artistic 
 inspiration. The artist was so struck by the boy's earnest 
 gaze that, shouting, ''Stay as you are!" and catching up 
 a canvas, he immediately dashed off this sketch.'* 
 
 Grosvenor Catalogue, 1885. 
 
His Iiiipiilsiveness. 
 
 41 
 
 Reynolds, in his Fourteenth I^iscoiirsc, from which we 
 shall have to quote more than once, says that Gainsborough 
 * had a habit of continually remarking to those who hap- 
 pened to be about him whatever peculiarity of countenance, 
 whatever accidental combination of figure, or happy effects 
 of light and shadow, occurred in prospects, in the sky, in 
 walking the streets, or in company. If, in his walks, he 
 found a character that he liked, and whose attendance was 
 to be obtained, he ordered him to his house,' and there 
 painted him from the life. Thus it was that in the last 
 years of his life he picked up Jack Mill among the Richmond 
 woods. The lad proved a bad bargain, but he had a pretty, 
 chul:)b)' face, and that was enough for Gainsborough. The 
 impulse of the moment settled every question, and a rosy 
 cheek was irresistible. 
 
 He was instinctively rebelHous against convention, ;ls 
 all his early sketches show. He took Nature as he found 
 lier. When he was a student in London, this imconven- 
 tionality was b\- no means in \'()gue ; whatex c-r teaching 
 ( iainsborou^h receixecl must ha\e been calculated to break 
 down the frecidom of his conceptions. Portrait-painting 
 was the only kind of art work much in demand, and for 
 that there were all manner of canons not to be lightly 
 transgressed. The traditions of Kneller were still supreme, 
 and no one had arisen to abolish them, d he ariiticialit\' 
 of the seventeenth centur)' maintained its hold upon artists 
 till Reynolds and Gainsborough effected a revolution. Hoth 
 artists in their Nouth had to submit to those restraints which 
 
42 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 in after years their strength availed to burst through. The 
 portraits painted by Gainsborough when settled at Ipswich 
 after his return from London, give proof of this. Those 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Hingeston (Grosv. Nos. 94 and 89) may 
 be taken as examples. Both are of the usual type — half- 
 lengths seen within an oval, the face turned in three- 
 quarters to right or left, as the case may be ; there is 
 nothing original in pose or the treatment of costume. 
 The work is throughout careful, solid, simple, and unpre- 
 tentious — full of promise, therefore. Facial expression is 
 happily caught ; there is a glance in the eyes, a mobility in 
 the mouth. Yet it is plain to see that Gainsborough did 
 not feel himself free, in these and the like portraits, to do 
 as he liked ; he had to adopt the type fixed by custom ; 
 his patrons would not yet tolerate any bold innovations. 
 The portrait of his bride (Grosv. No. 108) shows what kind 
 of treatment he would have adopted at this time, if he had 
 had himself only to consult. The picture, though clearly 
 a good likeness, gives no indication of the ' extraordinary 
 beauty ' for which Margaret Burr is said to have been 
 famed in the Sudbury district ; she looks a plain, bright, 
 chubby, healthy girl, young and jolly, kind-hearted and 
 boisterous, good and capable. Gainsborough could paint 
 her just as he pleased, so he did away with oval frames 
 and plain brown backgrounds, and placed his mistress in 
 the open air. A boldly treated landscape, with a fretwork 
 of large foliage before a sky rich with evening colours, 
 shuts her in behind ; tendrils of honeysuckle creep round 
 
Man and IVifc. 
 
 43 
 
 her arm, as though they would embrace her. Her costume, 
 too, is freely treated ; a white shawl slips from her shoulders, 
 her bosom is partly revealed, her head is bare. PKickground. 
 textures, garments, expression, all are Gainsborough's own. 
 He has ridden himself of conventionality for the time ; he 
 is a free man — he is himself. 
 
 An unfinished self-portrait painted about the same date 
 (Grosv. No. 16 1 ) would doubtless have shown similar 
 freedom. Only th(; face is brought to anything like com- 
 pletion, but that is excellent. The young vagabond with 
 his merry glance is visibly before us ; he has caught his 
 own expression inimitably. It is a bright, intelligent 
 countenance, not without traces of care, but with a look 
 of potential merriment, before which all gloomy things 
 could not but fade away. About this timc! he painted two 
 gr:oui)s of himself and his wife, seated luider the ojicn sky. 
 One (Grosv. No. 9*) shows them in some gentleman's 
 park, dressed in their best, in costumes of about the year 
 1750. The pertni ss of the little round-faced lady and the 
 jollity of her military-looking husband are immistakable, 
 but they are l)oth on their good behaviour ; the artificial 
 temples in the background throws a shadow of conven- 
 tionality over them. In the other picture (Grosv. No. 195) 
 they are in the open country, whither they have gone 
 rambling with their child and dog ; they have just sat 
 
 * This picture was ck'scribcd as a j^ortrait of Thomas Sandl)y in the 
 Grosvenor Catalogue. Mr. Srliarf pointed out to me tliat it was much 
 more probably a portrait of Gainsborough. 
 
44 
 
 Tlioinas Gainsborough. 
 
 down upon the grass by a little pool, and the dog is 
 drinking at the water. The sky is cloudy (Gainsborough 
 always painted it so), but what do they care ? The wife 
 is good-tempered as ever, and the husband, wearing the 
 same three-cornered hat as in his bust portrait mentioned 
 above, and with his stockings all crooked and his ill-fitting 
 clothes ca'rried anyhow, looks the very incarnation of easy 
 going. Fulcher tells a pretty little story about the relations 
 between the pair. Whenever Gainsborough spoke crossly 
 to his wife, a remarkably sweet-tempered woman, he would 
 write a note of repentance, sign it with the name of his 
 favourite dog ' Fox,' and address it to his Margaret's 
 pet spaniel ' Tristram.' Fox would take the note in his 
 mouth, and duly deliver it to Tristram. Margaret would 
 then answer : — ' My own dear Fox, you are always loving 
 and good, and I am a naughty little female ever to worry 
 you as I too often do, so we will kiss and say no more 
 about it. Your own affectionate, Tris.' 
 
 III. 
 
 For fourteen or fifteen years we must think of Gains- 
 borough as living a happy enough country life, with 
 Ipswich for centre, and plenty of landscape to sketch and 
 paint for his artistic, if not his pecuniary advantage. He 
 surrounded himself with a set of boon companions, and 
 became known through all the country side as a good 
 fellow and a good portrait-painter. But he was made for 
 
Rcmcn'al to Batli. 
 
 45 
 
 something more than local fame, and his removal to Bath 
 opened a new and wider sphere for the exercise of his 
 powers. 
 
 The change of abode was marked by no change of 
 style ; his development was continuous wherever he was. 
 Hut he now had a better chance than before, and in the 
 portrait of I^Larl Xugent (Grosv. No. 204), painted in 1761, 
 he made his first great hit. He showed the stout old 
 gentleman sitting in th(- corner of a room by the window, 
 content with all th(! world. The colour harmony of the 
 picture is not by any means jjerfect. The blues, greens, 
 and reds, are all too shrill ; but the excellent rendering of 
 expression on tlu; round, good-humoured countenance, the 
 way in which the smilc! is caught in the midst of its growth, 
 the ease, too, of the pose and its obvious naturalness to the 
 sitter — larger virtues lik(! these make amends for much. 
 If we look to find traces of the influence of \'an Dyck, the 
 master whose work Gainsborough so highl)' re\ered, we 
 shall look in \ain. The picture is of pure and simple 
 English t\pe, and resembles a figure taken out of one of 
 those conversation pieces which for the last fifty years had 
 been popular in England. The putting together of the 
 thing, indeed, is not a good example of style of any kind. 
 The idea of stylc\ of making all the parts of a picture — 
 background, costume, trimmings, accessories of every kind, 
 the pose of the figure, and the general scheme of light and 
 colour — the idea of making all these component parts work 
 together to a single end, had not as yet assumed prominence 
 
46 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 in Gainsborough's mind. At present we find him labouring 
 away at details, striving to reproduce on his canvas a 
 suggestion of the thing his eye saw. It was a problem 
 sufficiently engrossing. The first business of a portrait- 
 painter is to catch the likeness, and likeness-catching, by 
 all accounts, was Gainsborough's peculiar gift. We can 
 well understand that the portrait of Earl Nugent was a 
 remarkably good and animated reflection of the man him- 
 self, and the gay world of Bath were quick to take note 
 of that fact. Gainsborough had not yet attained the power 
 of giving an air of distinction to his sitters ; at present he 
 contented himself with giving them an air of reality. He 
 had not yet begun to flatter, he was struggling after simple 
 truth. 
 
 From this time forward commissions came pouring in in 
 increasing numbers, and the artist was enabled to raise his 
 prices to a very respectable level. He became a well-to-do 
 man, and could live in the generous, joyous fashion that 
 suited so w^ell his thoughtless bent. Idleness and gaiety 
 may be censurable to some persons, but with Gainsborough 
 they were virtues, child of nature that he was. Repression 
 would have ruined him. He waxed in stature and power 
 as an artist, because his nature was not contradicted. The 
 law that he was unto himself was a law whose sanctions were 
 present joy or present grief. His art was a joyful thing to 
 him when he followed his own inclinations in it. Had he 
 tried to paint as Reynolds did, had he tried to cover the 
 inteliectual ground which Reynolds was always endeavouring 
 
Increase of Poiver. 
 
 47 
 
 to add to the domain of art, he would have failed, and been 
 unhappy. But he contented himself with the outer — he 
 gave expression to the thing that he saw — and year by year 
 not only did he see more clearl)', but the very track of his 
 brush, the technique with which it was handled, became 
 increasingly instinct with expressive power. 
 
 A comparison between the full-length portrait of Earl 
 Nugent and that of Mr. Poyntz, painted in the following 
 year, enables us to take a measure of his advance. Con- 
 ventionality is rapidly giving way. The artist is finding 
 himself self-sufficient. He is occupying with increasing 
 certaint)- a footing of his ow n. Mr. P()\ ntz ( Clrosv. No. 55) 
 is seen in the open air, leaning against a i)()llard willow 1)\- 
 a stream. His gun is in his hands, and his dog lies panting 
 at his feet. The management of the light, falling in islands 
 upon his face and u[)on the dog. is a little artificial, but it 
 gives evidence of an advance, and shows that the artist was 
 paying attention to this matter, and in doing so was en- 
 deavouring to follow the leading of \ an I )yck. The acces- 
 sories are all painted rapidly and boldl)', though with clear 
 reference to natiu'e at every point. Probably Gainsborough 
 took many of theni from objects present in his studio. 
 
 Reynolds says that Gainsborough ' was wont to bring 
 from tlu! fields 'into his painting-room stumj)S of trees, 
 weeds, and animals of various kinds ; and designed them 
 not from memory, but immediately from the objects. He 
 even framed a kind of model of landscapes on his table, 
 composed of broken stones, dried herbs, and pieces ot 
 
48 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 looking-glass, which he magnified, and improved into rocks, 
 trees, and water. ... It shows the solicitude and extreme 
 activity which he had about everything that related to his 
 art ; that he wished to have his objects embodied, as it 
 were, and distinctly before him ; that he neglected nothing 
 which could help his faculties in exercise, and derived hints 
 from every sort of combination.' ' He made,' says Jackson, 
 ' little laymen for human figures ; he modelled his horses 
 and cows, and knobs of coal sat for rocks ; nay, he carried 
 this so far, that he never chose to paint anything from 
 invention when he could have the objects themselves. The 
 limbs of trees which he collected would have made no 
 inconsiderable wood-rick, and many an ass has been led 
 into his painting-room.' 
 
 To this same period belong five pictures of children, 
 which, for comparison's sake, shall be grouped all together. 
 They are 'Johnnie Plumpin ' (Grosv. No. 17), 'Edward 
 Clive ' (Grosv. No. 50), 'Susan Gardiner' (Grosv. No. 127), 
 'Juliet Mott ' (Grosv. No. 162), and ' Georgiana Spencer' 
 (Grosv. No. 184). Johnnie Plumpin's picture looks the 
 earliest of these. For all I know, it may have been painted 
 in the Ipswich period. At all events, it is conventional 
 enough. The boy is hurrying along, in a Van Dyck 
 costume, carrying books under his arm, on his way to 
 school. He is looking very bright and enthusiastic about 
 it all, as a model boy should look, but a real boy certainly 
 would not. 
 
 Edward Clive (then, or afterwards. Earl Powis) is a 
 
Gainsborough. 
 L(3(iy Georgiara Spencer^ aj'tcrivardi DucUss of Dc%-on^h\t 
 
JLarly Pictures of Children. 
 
 49 
 
 more human-lookin^^ lad. He and his clodies are painted 
 with an ungrateful set of colours, but made entirely real 
 for all that. The posture of the child, curiously enough, 
 is almost the same as that of the * Blue Boy.' The bright 
 expression of his face is quite wonderfully caught. There 
 is a lurking look of mischief in his eyes, and altogether he 
 is a thoroughl)'* natural boy, emancipated from every trace 
 of Knellerism. 
 
 Georgiana S[)encer, destined to be Duchess of Devon- 
 shire, shall be taken as representative of the three little 
 girls. Her picture must have been painted about 1763 
 or 1764. There is nothing original about her pose. She 
 has been asked to stand still and upright, as a good little 
 girl should, with her hands crossed on her waist. The 
 painter has just set her down as she looked, her quaint 
 little face i)eering out of a white cap with pink bows. 
 Such a bright, laughter-lo\ ing little face it is, the merriest 
 of eyes presiding over a button of a tiu-ned-u[) nose. 
 She is as full of character as can be — the (juaintest of 
 children ! 
 
 IVobably her father's portrait (Grosv. Xo. 16), a half- 
 length within a brown oval, was painted about the same 
 time. Like all Gainsborough's pictures of this period, it is 
 not attractive at the hrst glance, l)ut it is as fme a piece 
 of character-paiiuing as he ever did. Indeed, as he advanced 
 in power his portraits grew less remarkable in this very 
 respect. He attained increasing skill in catching expression, 
 but he ceased to labour after that complete rendering of 
 
 E 
 
Thomas GainsboroMgh. 
 
 character which can only be effected by long and close 
 observation, unless the artist possesses a natural insight of 
 a kind that was not consonant with Gainsborough's endow- 
 ments and disposition. Reynolds advanced from year to 
 year as a painter of character. Gainsborough became more 
 and more a painter of expression. The two things are con- 
 nected, but the)' are not the same, and the student of portrait- 
 painting must not fail to make clear in his own mind the 
 distinction between them. 
 
 A portrait which thoroughly renders a man's character 
 is a portrait of the monumental kind, allied to sculpture. 
 Expression is undoubtedly the quality which a painter is 
 specially called upon to catch, and in the seizing of it he 
 manifests, in all their freshness, the resources and flexibility 
 of his craft. Though it is not to be supposed that Gains- 
 borough analysed and formulated the question in his own 
 mind, his instinct guided him in the right direction. Pleased, 
 as he by nature was, with the outward glance and momentary 
 aspect of things, with the joyous shimmer of a universe of 
 change, he could not but emphasise in his rendering of a 
 face that very qua.lity which was for him the leading charm 
 and fascination of the visible world — and what did he care 
 for the invisible ? It w^as the clearness and sharpness of 
 Gainsborouorh's limitations, and the willinof obedience with 
 which he conformed to them, that enabled him to be so 
 perfect an artist in his own sphere. But we are now con- 
 sidering the paintings done by him in the struggling period 
 of his life. As yet he is only an artist of promise ; it is not 
 
Early Croups. 
 
 51 
 
 clear what he will become — Time, the revealer, is steadiK' 
 working for us. 
 
 About this time he painted the life-size famil\- ij^roup of 
 the Dehanys and their child (Grosv. Nos. 176). whilst the 
 portrait of the Cruttenden girls (Gros\'. Xo. 61 ) was perhaps 
 done a little earlier. Hoth pictures show that the artist had 
 not yet learnt how to combine figures together. The indi- 
 viduals are only juxtaposed. They are not united. We can 
 observe in them the reiterated attempt to handle light effec- 
 tively and make it subser\ ient to the general effect ; we can 
 see traces in them of the i)ainter's struggle with textures, 
 his endeavour to give glossiness to silk and llufhness to 
 trimmings ; as yet, however, he attains onl\' partial success. 
 In one thing he ne\er fails: he makes e\er\' fice animated 
 and bright. The spectator cannot doubt but that he is looking 
 at a good likeness. Now and again, prrliaps, the result 
 seems to ha\ c! Ix-en reached b)' a hick\' chance, but usually 
 honest hard work was the foundation of success. The half- 
 length of Mrs. Walker (Cirosv. Xo. 39), for instance, is 
 almost }Ioll)eines(|ue in its elaborate modelling and finished 
 surface. It is a complete and solid piece ot work. Ihere 
 is much \'ariety in the; costume (all the parts of which arc- 
 well imitated), and the light is so directed that th(.' l)e- 
 holder cannot help looking chiefly at the face, whereunto 
 all the rest of the picture; is, as it should be, confessedly 
 accessor)'. lUit we ha\ e lingerc:(l too long over this intro- 
 ductory stage of our ineiuirw and now Kilmorc;y's erect and 
 wide-exi)anding form (Ciros\'. Xo. 30 \ the dapper and g\ ntle- 
 
52 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 manly Colonel Nugent (Grosv. No. 136), painted in 1765, 
 and even the fine equestrian portrait of General Honeywood 
 (1765), must be passed without further reference. 
 
 The portrait of Lady Mary Bowlby (Grosv. No. 96), if 
 we mistake not, marks the transition to a more developed 
 style. Up to this time Gainsborough has shown himself 
 weak in the rendering of textures. He has tried his best, as 
 we have seen ; but he has not been very successful. Hair 
 especially has eluded his grasp. We now find him steadily 
 advancing in this respect. The artistic qualities of his work 
 are becoming more pronounced. The picture is a pleasant 
 thing to look at, quite apart from the question of whether it 
 be a likeness or not. The colours work prettily together ; 
 the light is well distributed. But, more than this, there is an 
 aspect of distinction infused into the subject. From the very 
 beginning Gainsborough had shared his own friendliness of 
 disposition with every person whose portrait he painted. He 
 had made them look forth for ever from his canvases with 
 welcoming and pleasant glances. Henceforward, whilst giving 
 further emphasis to this kindly quality, he made all his ladies, 
 at any rate, appear high-bred and distinguished, if they 
 were capable of so appearing. The power of imparting this 
 aspect of distinction is perhaps the special prerogative of 
 English artists. It was at all events a prerogative which 
 Reynolds and Gainsborough possessed to a remarkable degree. 
 The portrait of Lady Mary Bowlby is not a very conspicuous 
 example of its exercise, but it is important as an early example 
 in Gainsborough's case. 
 
 1 
 
Gainsborough. 
 Graham r,f Bct^ican, 
 
V 
 
Reynolds' Iiifliiciicc. 
 
 53 
 
 By an unhappy fatality it is almost impossible to talk about 
 Gainsborough for very long without mentioning Reynolds, and 
 sooner or later we shall have to ask whether either artist 
 produced a visible effect upon the other. We know that the 
 two men observed each other s work, as of course the\' could 
 not fail to do. Gainsborough, looking at Reynolds' j^ictures, 
 
 said, ' D him, how various he is ! ' and Re) nolds, looking 
 
 at Gainsborough's, declared, ' I cannot make out how he 
 produces his effects ;' but both of these characteristic remarks 
 were made at a later date than that to which we are now 
 referring. Of course neither artist could heljj feeling tiie 
 influence of the other to some extent, and the earliest instance 
 I have been able to discover of Gainsborough's doing so is a 
 half-length portrait of Mrs. Macauley (Grosv. No. 206), a 
 picture not of much interest otherwise, but which appears 
 to have been suggested by one of Reynolds's half-lengths 
 of the type of Lady C. Keppel ((irosw Xo. 123), painted 
 in 1755. The inthience is observable onl\- in the pose; 
 all else is Gainsborough's own. Throughout life he kept 
 his individuality pure from all extraneous matter. He 
 nourished hims(;lf by observation, but he seldom imitated ; 
 he assimilated. He studied, we may feel sure, whatever 
 works of art, ancient or modern, came in his wa\-. He 
 copied i)ictures by \'an Dyck, Titian. Rubens, and Teniers ; 
 but, as Reynolds said of him, 'What he thus learned, he 
 ai)plied to the original of nature, which he saw with his 
 own eyes ; and iniitated, not in the manner of those masters, 
 but in his own.' 
 
54 
 
 Thomas Gainsboroitgh. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The famous portrait of Garrick (Grosv. No. 7) opens what 
 we may call Gainsborough's central Bath period, though, once 
 for all, it must be repeated that the development of Gains- 
 borough's style does not naturally divide into periods; all lines 
 of division are arbitrary. This picture was either bought by 
 the municipality of Stratford-upon-Avon or presented to them 
 by the great actor. It shows him standing in a park, leaning 
 against a pedestal, with his arm round a bust of Shakspeare. 
 The position is easy and natural, the face is bright, the costume 
 pleasant in colour. The trees, grass, and water of the back- 
 ground are painted in more detail than at a later time in the 
 artist's career they w^ould have been ; nevertheless the land- 
 scape is treated as accessory to the figure, and so handled 
 rather in a decorative than a representative fashion. When 
 Gainsborough's subject was landscape he worked in another 
 way, as we shall hereafter see. He never combined a regular 
 landscape with a portrait. The figures are either subservient 
 to the natural objects or the natural objects to the figures. 
 Sometimes, indeed, he introduced a likeness or two into his 
 landscapes, as, for instance, those of his daughters, in the 
 ' Harvest Waggon' (Grosv. Nos. 174 and 33), but then the 
 figures are mere sketches. The landscape backgrounds of his 
 portraits take the place of decorative hangings. They are 
 not intended to be looked at. The beholder is meant to fix 
 his eye upon the person portrayed, and when he does so the 
 natural objects, vaguely suggested behind, take their proper 
 
Garrick. 
 
 55 
 
 place. Regarded by themselves they do not satisfy the eye ; 
 they do not retain hold upon it ; they send it back to the 
 figure. As Gainsborouij;-h advanced in experience he more 
 and more emphasised in his portraits this subordination of 
 
 He painted at l('ast five portraits of Garrick, but the 
 Stratford full-lenirth is the most famous. His admiration for 
 the actor is well known. To Henderson he wrote, 'Stick to 
 Garrick as close as you can, for your life : you should follow 
 
 his heels like his sliadow in sunshine C^arrick is the 
 
 greatest creature lix ing, in ever}' respect ; he is worth stucU iug 
 in every action. livery view, and v.vrvy idea of him. is worthy 
 of being stored up for imitation ; and I have ever found liim 
 a generous and a sincere friend. Look upon him, Henderson, 
 with your imitative eyes, for when he drops you'll have nothing 
 but poor old Nature's book to look in. You'll be left to grope 
 ab(Kit alone, scratching your pate in the dark, or by a larthing 
 candle. Now is )()ur time, m\- li\-ely fellow!" There is a 
 letter of the year 1772 from Gainsborough to Garrick, referring 
 to a portrait of the actor for which the artist was not going to 
 allow him to pay. * It was to be m\- present to Mrs. Garrick, 
 
 and so it shall be in spite of Nour blood I know )()ur 
 
 ereat stomach, that \ou hate to be crammed, but \ou shall 
 swallow this one bait. . . God bless all your endeavours to 
 delight the world, and may you sparkle to the last ! ' 
 
 Anyoiufs (mdeavours to delight the world were sure: to 
 c.dl down at any rate Gainsborough's blessings. Actors and 
 musicians were his brothers. Young Henderson came to 
 
56 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 Bath, and Gainsborough took him to his heart at once, and 
 when he left for London followed him with letters of good 
 advice. ' Do but recollect how many hard-featured fellows 
 there are in the world that frown in the midst of enjoyment, 
 chew with un thankfulness, and seem to swallow with pain 
 instead of pleasure ; now anyone who sees you eat pig and 
 plum-sauce, immediately feels that pleasure which a plump 
 morsel, smoothly gliding through a narrow glib passage 
 into the regions of bliss, and moistened with the dews of 
 imagination, naturally creates. Some iron-faced dogs, you 
 know, seem to chew dry ingratitude, and swallow discontent. 
 Let such be kept to under parts, and never trusted to support 
 a character. In all but eating, stick to Garrick ; in tJiat let 
 him stick to you, for Til be curst if you are not his master ! 
 Never mind the fools who talk of imitation and copying ; all 
 
 is imitation What makes the difference, between man 
 
 and man, is real performance, and not genius or conception. 
 There are a thousand Garricks, a thousand Giardinis, and 
 Fischers, and Abels. Why only one Garrick with Garrick's 
 eyes, voice, etc. ? One Giardini with Giarclini's fingers, etc. ? 
 But one Fischer with Fischer's dexterity, quickness, etc. ? Or 
 more than one Abel with Abel's feeling upon the instrument ? 
 All the rest of the world are mere hearers and seers! 
 
 At Bath Gainsborough lived amongst these light-hearted 
 companions, and painted portraits of them all. He painted 
 Henderson two or three times/'^ Abel he painted twice, 
 
 * A bust portrait at the Grosvenor Exhibition (No. 142) was christened 
 Henderson, though it was not stated on w^hat grounds the attribution was made. 
 
Musicians and A dors. 
 
 57 
 
 Giardini once, Fischer once, besides many more. The 
 three-quarter length of Abel (Grosv. No. 46) wiih his 
 viol-di-gamba between his knees, has now lost mucli of its 
 charm of colour, but remains a solid piece of work. The 
 full-length of Fischer (Grosv. No. 112) painted in 1767, is 
 one of the best productions of this part of Gainsborough's 
 life. The musician leans upon a pianoforte, with music- 
 books, a hautbo}', aiul a violin l\'ing about. His pose is 
 excellent in its naturalness ; his face is ver)' thoroughly 
 painted. The man is jjausing in the act of composition, 
 and looking upwards with the bright glance of friendly 
 intelligence, which none but Gainsborough could depict so 
 well. Of all the artist's pictures, this is the one in which 
 the accessories are most nuuKM'ous and painted with most 
 care and finish ; for (iainsborough lox ed musical instru- 
 ments almost as much as he loved musicians. He was no 
 mean performer himself, and Jackson declared that 'there 
 were times when music seemed to be Gainsborough's 
 employment and painting his dixcrsion.' 
 
 ' \\ lu:n I hrst knew Ciainsborough,' he sa\s, 'he lived 
 at l)ath. where Giardini had been exhibiting his then 
 imrivalled powers on the \ iolin. 11 is excellent performance 
 made the painter enamoured of that instrument, and he 
 was not satisfied until he possessed it. He next heard 
 Abel on the viol-di-i^ixniba. The; \ iolin was hung on the 
 willow — Abel's viol-de-gamba was purchased, and the house 
 resounded with melodious thirds and fifths. M\- Iriend's 
 passion had now a fresh object -Fischer's hautbo\- ; but 1 
 
58 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 do not recollect that he deprived Fischer of his instrument, 
 and although he procured a hautboy, I never heard him 
 make the least attempt on it. The next time I saw 
 Gainsborough it was in the character of King David. He 
 had heard a harper at Bath — the performer was soon left 
 harpless ; and now Fischer, Abel, and Giardini were all 
 forgotten — there was nothing like chords and arpeggios ! 
 
 ' Happening on a time to see a theorbo in a picture of 
 Van Dyck's, Gainsborough concluded because, perhaps, it 
 was finely painted, that the theorbo must be a fine instru- 
 ment. He recollected to have heard of a German professor, 
 and ascending to his garret found him dining on roasted 
 apples, and smoking his pipe with his theorbo beside him. 
 
 ' " I am come to buy your lute. Name your price, and 
 here's your money." 
 
 ' " I cannot sell my lute." 
 
 ' " No! not for a guinea or two? But you must sell it, 
 I tell you!" 
 
 ' " My lute is w^orth much money. It is worth ten 
 guineas." 
 
 '''Aye! that is it. See; here's the money!" So say- 
 ing he took up the instrument, laid down the price, went 
 half-way down the stair, and returned. 
 
 ' " I have clone but half my errand ; what is your lute 
 worth if I have not your book 
 
 '"What book. Master Gainsborough.^" 
 
 * " Why, the book of airs you have composed for the 
 lute." 
 
He buys a TJicorbo. 
 
 59 
 
 * " Ah, sir, I can never part with my book!" 
 
 ' " Poh ! you can make another at any time. This is 
 the book I mean — there's ten guineas for it — so once more 
 good day." He went down a few steps, and returned again. 
 
 ' " What use is your book to me if I don't understand 
 it And your lute, you may take it again if you won't 
 teach me to play on it. Come home with me, and give 
 me the first lesson." 
 
 ' I will ccmie to-morrow." 
 
 * " You must come now." 
 ' I must dress myself" 
 
 * " For what You are the best figure I have seen 
 to-day." 
 
 * " I must shave, sir." 
 
 ' ** I honour your beard." 
 
 ' " I must, however, put on my wig." 
 
 '"]) — — your wig! your cap and beard become you! 
 Do you think if Van Dyck was to paint you he'd let you 
 be shaved ?" ' 
 
 All his life long, indeed, music had the most })Owerful 
 fascination for (iainsborouirh, and it is related of him and 
 r'ischer that ' the two enthusiasts sometimes left their spouses 
 to sleep away more! than half the night alone. P^or one 
 would get at his flageolet, which he j^layed delightfully, 
 and the other at his viol-di-oaniba. and ha\e such an 
 inveterate set-to, that, as Mrs. Ciainsborough said, a gang 
 of robbers might have stripped the house and set it on 
 fire, to boot, and tin; gentlemen beeii never the wiser.' 
 
6o 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 V. 
 
 It would be a mistake to conclude that anything of this 
 seeming inconstancy of disposition was reflected in Gains- 
 borough's art ; he was not a man to be continually trying 
 experiments and changing his style. Throughout the whole 
 of the Bath period he steadily advanced in power along 
 one line. The portraits painted by him between the years 
 1765 and 1770 are all solid pieces of work; dashing traces 
 of genius are less visible in them than the careful results 
 of labour. The half-length of Mr, Amyand (Grosv. No. 
 141) is a good example of the period. It is a picture one 
 might pass over many times, yet once it has attracted the 
 attention it keeps hold of it. There is a sly under-current 
 of good humour in the expression which is rendered with 
 remarkable subtlety, not by any lucky strokes of the brush, 
 but by a careful modelling of all the features. Subtleties 
 of expression now become more and more common. A 
 look of suppressed truculence distinguishes Mr. Almack 
 (Grosv. No. 64), a wild thoughtlessness animates the glance 
 and pose of Lady Margaret Lindsay (Grosv, No. 160), 
 whilst the kindly and benevolent soul of John Thornton 
 (Grosv. No. 36) can even be discerned beneath his fat 
 and almost piggish countenance. . But it is the three- 
 quarter-length portrait of the third Duke of Buccleuch 
 (Grosv. No. 66) that gives clearest proof of the skill which 
 Gainsborough had now acquired. The living man, with 
 his arms round a pet dog, smiles at you out of the canvas 
 
Tucrcasiiig Poi.i^cr. 
 
 6i 
 
 with peculiar vividness ; the flesh quivers about the start- 
 lingly bright eyes. Gainsborough at this time always made 
 his figures active. You do not look at them, it is they that 
 regard you. The spectator is passive, the picture active. 
 In a room full of Gainsborough's portraits, the beholder is 
 a hundred times beheld ; he stands surrounded by a ' crowd 
 of witnesses,' who are not there to be looked at but them- 
 selves to look. 
 
 Few pictures are more remarkable in this respect than 
 the half-length portrait of the famous Lord Chesterfield 
 (Grosv. No. 84), painted in 1769. The man is there, 
 hidden behind his ' impenetrable mask ' of a countenance, 
 and with his liead buried in an old-fashioned wig. His eye 
 regards you with steely-cold observation. ( )n the wliolc, 
 he does not seem to think much of you. lie is \ ery old, 
 has lost all his front teeth, and the weight of his eNclids 
 is almost too much for his strength : but he is f.u" from 
 considering himself a show, he is a critic, and he takes the 
 measure, so it seems, of one after another of those filing 
 before him, who falsely deem themselves spectators. 
 
 From a distance the half-length of Mr. R. Palmer 
 (Grosv. No. 210), with the twinkling eyes and the face 
 running over with e.xpression, seems a most elaborately 
 finished work, but when )ou regard the canvas closely 
 this effect is" found to be an illusion. livery touch has 
 been applied with that definite knowledge of the end it 
 was to produce, which henceforward became Gainsborough's 
 peculiar prerogative. The same thing can be noticed in 
 
62 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 the half-lengths of the Duchess of Montague (Grosv. No. 
 28) and the Duke of Bedford (Grosv. No. 38), both 
 painted in or about the year 1768. We can trace in 
 these three pictures the earliest clear foreshadowing of the 
 painter's final style. The effect seems to be attained by 
 magic. What, beheld close, looks like a mere tissue of 
 fine lines of different colours, laid in all manner of direc- 
 tions as though by mere caprice, takes on, when surveyed 
 from a short distance, the aspect of most finished work. 
 The artist's conception and mode of expression became 
 henceforward so intimately connected, that no severance is 
 possible between them. From this time his style was fixed. 
 It was to this final style that Reynolds referred when he 
 said, ' It is certain that all those odd scratches and marks 
 which, on a close examination, are so observable in Gains- 
 borough's pictures, and which even to experienced painters 
 appear rather the effect of accident than design — this 
 chaos, this uncouth and shapeless appearance, by a kind 
 of magic, at a certain distance assumes form', and all the 
 parts seem to drop into their proper places, so that we 
 can hardly refuse acknowledging the full effect of diligence, 
 under the appearance of chance and hasty negligence. 
 That Gainsborough himself considered this peculiarity in 
 his manner and the power it possesses of exciting surprise 
 as a beauty in his works, I think may be - inferred from 
 the eager desire which we know he always expressed, 
 that his pictures at the exhibition should be seen near as 
 well as at a distance.' 
 
Gainsborough. 
 Admiral Lord Rodney, 
 
Mystery of /lis Technique. 
 
 63 
 
 Already, in a letter written from Ij^swich in the year 
 1758, Gainsborough had foreshadowed the tendency of his 
 style. ' You please nie much,' he said, * by saying that no 
 other fault is found in your picture than the roughness of the 
 surface ; for that part being of use in giving force to the effect 
 at a proper distance, and what a judge of painting knows an 
 original from a co[)y Ijy in short, being the touch of the 
 pencil which is harder to preserve than smoothness. 1 am 
 much better pleased that they should spy out things of that 
 kind, than to see an eye half an inch out of its place, or a 
 nose out of drawing when viewed at a proper distance. I 
 don't think it would be more ridiculous for a person to put 
 his nose close to the can\ as. and say the colours smelt offen- 
 sive, tlian to sa\ how rough the paint lies ; for one is just as 
 material as the other with regard to hurting the effect and 
 drawing of a picture,' 
 
 Let the \'ear 1 76S, tlu n, be remt.'mbered in connexion 
 with Gainsborough, as that in wliich liis final st\le declared 
 itself The porlrail of the 1 )uke of Bedford (died 1771) 
 is an exami)le of thai st\U: in almost compleK' development; 
 but it stands alone in this respect, and may possibly have 
 been painted by the artisi some years later from a sketch 
 made about this time. It is not until 1 7S0 that Gains- 
 borough's hatching manner reached its full de\el()[)ment, 
 and perha[)s led him a little astra\-. 
 
 Some of his best i)ictures belong to the pciriod inter- 
 vening between 1770 and 17S0. T^oremost amongst these 
 is the full-length portrait of Jonathan Buttal, world-renowned 
 
64 
 
 Thoinas Gainsborough. 
 
 as the 'Blue Boy' (Grosv. No. 62). It is probably the 
 ' Portrait of a Youn<j Gentleman,' the ' Portrait of a Gentle- 
 man in a Van Dyck Habit,' exhibited by Gainsborough at 
 the Royal Academy in 1770. At all events, to judge from 
 internal evidence, the picture was painted about that year, 
 and not in 1779, as many writers have affirmed. It is a 
 matter for great regret that, since the time when the picture 
 was last exhibited, it should have seriously deteriorated, 
 whether owing to injudicious treatment or from some un- 
 avoidable cause. Nevertheless it remains a masterpiece of 
 art, and by it alone Gainsborough might consent to be 
 judged. The lad is represented clothed in a blue silk coat 
 and breeches, and standing bare-headed upon the ground 
 in the open air. His plumed hat is held in his right hand ; 
 behind him is a richly-coloured background of dark land- 
 scape and lurid sky. The edges of the many folds of his 
 silk garments are illuminated, and between them rifts of 
 w^arm brown shadow break up the blue masses of light 
 and, with the help of the background, give a rich tone to 
 the whole. It is a mistake to consider that the picture 
 was painted as a refutation of Reynolds's dictum, that the 
 masses of light in a picture ' should be ' always of a warm, 
 mellow colour — yellow, red, or a yellowish-white ; and that 
 the blue, the gray, or the green colours, be kept almost 
 entirely out of these masses, and be used only to support 
 and set off these warm colours, and for this purpose a 
 small proportion of cold colours will be sufficient. Let this 
 conduct be reversed — let the light be cold and the sur- 
 
The Blue Boy. 
 
 65 
 
 roundini( colours warm, as we often see in the works of 
 the Roman and Florentuie painters, and it will be out of 
 the power of art, even in the hands of Rubens or Titian, 
 to make a picture splendid and harmonious.' The discourse 
 in which this passage occurs was not delivered till 1778, 
 and the picture, as we have said, is in the style of many 
 years before. The attitude of the lad is. to all intents, 
 the same as that of young Lord Powis in the ('arly picture 
 above described. In one of the last, if not the very last 
 picture finished by Gainsborough, the full-length portrait of 
 the Duke of Norfolk (Grosv. No. 253), the same attitude 
 and the same style of costume again recur ; but the scheme 
 of light and colour was different, and the work l)y no 
 means so fine. 
 
 Th(; • l^lue Hoy' is, of all Gainsborough's pictures, that 
 in which genius, labour, and developed skill, meet in most 
 balanced harmony. The works of his earlier days are 
 marked by great painstaking and st(.:ady increase in power ; 
 but the\- aKva\s lack the: full artistic grasp of the subject 
 which the paiiiter here and henceforward attains. On the 
 other hand, the works of the last decade of Gainsborough^s 
 life are lacking in due elaboration. They are otten little 
 more than very clever sketches. In the 'Blue Boy' we 
 behold a fine conception cleverly, skilfully, and carefully 
 worked out. The face is full of life and sweet attractive- 
 ness, and is, at the same time, thoroughly modelled. The 
 lights and shadows show bolder contrasts and work together 
 to a more noble unity, than in any earlier picture. The 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 chord of colour is rich and mellow. Every detail of work, 
 from end to end of the canvas, is marshalled like the units 
 in a well-ordered host, and directed towards the end in view. 
 
 Curiously enough, the conception of this — the most 
 solid and laboured of Gainsborough's mature works — is, for 
 him, of an exceptional character. The lad does not stand 
 in the sunshine of life, but in a mysterious and almost fiery 
 gloom. His face lacks the young brightness and friendli- 
 ness of expression that almost all the artist's full-grown 
 sitters were caused to manifest. The picture is, however, an 
 exception only in so far as it belongs to an exceptional 
 class. Let the reader cast his eye in recollection over all 
 the pictures of children painted by Gainsborough in his 
 maturity— the 'Cottage Girl' (Grosv. No. 173) ; the 'Wood- 
 gatherers' (Grosv. No. 82); the 'Milk Girl' (Grosv. No. 49); 
 and even the sketches of 'Jack Hill' (Grosv. Nos. 86 and 95) 
 — he will find that in all of them the child's expression is 
 plaintive, almost to the verge of sadness. Grown men and 
 women, who might be supposed by this time to know the 
 hollowness of life — some Lady Margaret Fordyce, for in- 
 stance, dancing the long night through on the ruins of her 
 husband's reputation — nothing but laughter and the aspect 
 of joy was grim enough for them. But the artist could 
 not look upon the innocent ignorance of childhood without 
 a pang ; and he unconsciously transferred to the object of 
 his tender regret the feeling which was personal to himself. 
 Many times and oft, we doubt not, Gainsborough's merry 
 mood thatched out for him a yawning abyss of midnight 
 
CAINfBOROUnH. 
 
 Ccttjgc ChiUinn and LanJ'.d 
 
Gaiusborougli s Pathos. 
 
 67 
 
 storm, the muffled ro^ir of which he heard throuirh all his 
 laughter. 
 
 The pathetic aspect of life is sometimes more manifest to 
 the seemingly joyous than to those for whom sadness is a 
 profession. One of the last stories told of Gainsborough 
 bears this out. Sir George Beaumont, Sheridan, and the 
 painter were dining together, but Gainsborough sat in un- 
 wonted silence, ' witli a look of fixed melancholy which no 
 wit could dissipate. At length he took Sheridan by the 
 hand, led him out of the room, and said. \ow. don't 
 laugh, but listen. I shcdl die soon — 1 know it -I feel it 
 — I have less time to li\(; than my looks infer; but for 
 this I care not, W hat oppresses m\' mind is this : I have 
 man\ accjuaintanccs and few friends ; and as I wish to 
 have one worth)- man to accompain me to the grave. I 
 am desirous of bespeaking xou. \\ ill )()u come -aye or 
 no."*"' Sheridan promised, and ( iainsborough became him- 
 self again. ' Throughout the rest of tlu- c!vening his wit 
 flowed, and his humour ran oxer : and the minutes, like 
 those of th(! poet, winged their way with pleasure.' 
 
 'i'he 'Blue Boy' is. of all ( iainsborough's pictures, that 
 wherein he most closely follows the footsteps of \ an Dyck. 
 Gainsborough was not an imitator, though he was always 
 an earnest student of other men's works. It is onK-. there- 
 fore, occasionally, and then 1)\ chance, that we can point 
 to one of his pictures, and say, ' This is the result of \'an 
 Dyck's influence, this of Titian's.' There are. howc:\er, 
 two more portraits j)ainted about this time, in which Gains- 
 
68 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 borough followed Van Dyck almost as closely as he does 
 in the ' Blue Boy.' They are the bust portrait of Lord 
 Bateman (Grosv. No. 5) and the charming unfinished head 
 of Gainsborough Dupont (Grosv. No. 146), which was 
 perhaps painted a little later. The beautiful little half- 
 length of Edward Gardiner (Grosv. No. 132), made about 
 the year 1780, n^ust be grouped with these ; and the three 
 together form the brightest, freshest, and most charming 
 of all the artist's portraits of young persons. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In the summer of 1774 Gainsborough wisely moved to 
 London, and Schomberg House became his home for the 
 remaining fourteen years of his life. He was soon sum- 
 moned to the royal palace, and he shared with West the 
 patronage of the Court. During the first four or five 
 years of his London period, his work was done with ease, 
 and yet also with care and application. He increased in 
 power and skill, and was thereby enabled to work faster 
 than before. Commissions streamed in upon him ; he was 
 in every sense a successful man. To this period belongs 
 the portrait rendered famous by its mysterious disappearance. 
 It was believed to represent the Duchess of Devonshire ; 
 but the face and figure did not resemble hers, as a com- 
 parison of engravings clearly shows.* 
 
 The half-length portraits of Ladies Erne and Dillon 
 
 * It was Mr. Scharf who pointed out this fact to me. 
 
His Daughters. 
 
 69 
 
 (Old Masters, 1885. No. 17), i)ainted in 1776, and the fine 
 half-length of Mr. Christie (Grosv. Xo. 67), painted two 
 years later, are solid and characteristic works of this period. 
 The half-length portrait of himself (Grosv. No. 185), and 
 the beautiful full-face picture of Mrs. Gainsborough in a 
 black mantilla, both belong to about this time ; whilst the 
 full-length group of their daughters ( Grosv. No. 91) cannot 
 have come much later. The last-mentioned picture is worth 
 dwelling upon for a moment. The two young ladies, dr(?ssed 
 in all their finery, are standing with their dog in front of 
 a wooded landscape, which fjr \aried light and colour is 
 one of the most pleasing of the painter s backgrounds. The 
 costumes are elaborately jxiinted, and the textures of their 
 several parts are skilfully rendered. As usual with Gains- 
 borough's sitters, the ladies haxe a light, transparent scarf 
 about them for variety's .sake. The artist has done his best 
 to make them look dignified and high-bred. 1 1 is truthful 
 eye, however, has forbidden him to see falsel)' ; and not- 
 withstanding the pose which he has been willing to lend 
 them their faces contradict the intended effect. The picture 
 looks laboured and put together ; it wants spontaneit)'. 
 Mrs. Gainsborouirh in her chair is a fir finer work, for she 
 is her own natural self acting no part. Hetter also are the 
 half-length i)ortraits of the girls painted a few years later. 
 Their fither then took them as he found them : Mary, who 
 ran awa\- with b'ischer in i 7S0, leaning back pla\ ing a guitar, 
 and Margaret in a perfectly rendered green costume and 
 hat, seated upright in the open air. 
 
70 
 
 Thomas Gamsborough. 
 
 Both the last-mentioned pictures are examples of the 
 work of Gainsborough's last years, to which we must now 
 briefly refer. From the beginning, as we have seen, he 
 aimed at making every part of his picture tend towards the 
 single intention of the whole. For a long time this was 
 but an aim. In his central period success began to attend 
 his efforts. At last, from about 1 780 onwards, this quality 
 became the finest characteristic of all his works. It is now 
 clear that, as Reynolds says, he formed ' all the parts of 
 his picture together ; the whole going on at the same time, 
 in the same manner as Nature creates her works.' When 
 once he had conceived his subject, he painted it with 
 lightning-like speed. He did not merely conceive the head 
 or the figure, and then paint in suitable accessories. In 
 his mind he saw the picture entire from end to end, and 
 he caused it to take visible form, working at the whole of 
 it at once. Owing to the very crispness of his impressions, 
 he was led to work more and more slightly ; lest in the 
 realisation the spirit of the conception should vanish. He 
 was ' a man of strong intuitive perception of what was re- 
 quired.' He knew what he set out to effect ; and when he 
 had attained that he ceased, and cared not whether in 
 other respects his picture seemed unfinished. Do not regard 
 the details of Gainsborough's later works, but look at the 
 whole as he conceived the whole, and you will find that 
 the expressional power of the man was little less than perfect. 
 The conception we can often afford to criticise, but the 
 expression, in these last years, never. ' The slightness,' says 
 
style of /lis Final Period. 
 
 71 
 
 Reynolds, ' which we see in his l^est works cannot always 
 be in"i[)utecl to negligence. However they may appear to 
 superficial observ^ers, painters know very well that a steady 
 attention to the general effect takes up more time, and is 
 much more laborious to the mind, than any mode of high 
 finishing or smoothness without such attenti(jn. . . . Gains- 
 borough's portraits were often littk.* more, in regard to 
 finishing or determining the form of the features, than what 
 generally attends a dead colour ; but as he was always atten- 
 tive to the general effect, or whole together, 1 ha\ c! often 
 imagined that this unfinished manner contributed e\ en to that 
 striking resemblance for which his portraits are so remarkable.' 
 
 Take, as examples of the work of this final period, such 
 pictures as th(! portraits of the Prince of Wales ('Old 
 Masters,' 18S4, Xo. 151). and Colonel St. Leger (Grosv. 
 No. 23), or the Mrs. Siddons (National (iallery). or the 
 Duchess o{ Devonshire (Gros\', No. 145). or Mr. .mil Mrs. 
 Hallett ('Old Masters.' 1S85, Xo. 195), or .Sir llenr\ and 
 Lady Hate Dudley ((irosv. Xos. 171 and 75). I'he artist's 
 conception in every one; of these cases, besides being a 
 genuinely artistic one;, is expressed with a precision beyond 
 prai.se. The duskiness of the backgrounds, the glossiness 
 of silk, the fluffiness of feath.ers and trimmings, art; all used, 
 not for their own sakes, or as charming separately by them- 
 selves, l)ut as indivisibly component parts in a single whole. 
 It is this working together of all things to on(; end that 
 raises Gainsborough to such a height among artists. I'or 
 the p()W(;r of c;ffecting this is the great and essential (|ua]ily 
 
72 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 that makes a man an artist. Gainsborough never forgets 
 that paint is his language and the brush his instrument of 
 expression. He does not lay on his colours in the manner 
 of an engraver, as Dlirer did, or in any other manner except 
 that which is right to a painter and to no other. He thought 
 in paint, so to speak, and saw everything from the point of 
 view of the brush. He sought first for charms of colour '; 
 by aid of colour he said what he had to say. As the years 
 went by he was more and more content to suggest an im- 
 pression of brightness and harmonious tint rather than to 
 give full realisation to an appearance. 
 
 The wonderful half-lengths of young George Canning 
 (Grosv. No. loo), Lady Mulgrave ('Old Masters,' 1885, 
 No. 47), and Mrs. Fitzherbert (Grosv. No. 10), are excel- 
 lent examples of this. The last-mentioned is one of the 
 slightest and most vivid of Gainsborough's works. The 
 least of its merits is that it catches the haughty, smiling 
 expression of the sitter with more than the accuracy of an 
 instantaneous photograph. But the lady's character is not 
 alone shown in her face and posture, nor even in the design 
 of her garments. The impression the sight of her produced 
 upon the artist has thrilled through him in all the work, and 
 has been one of the guiding forces that directed his hand ; 
 so that every track of the brush is instinct with the same 
 spirit that animates the whole conception. Look closely at 
 the canvas, and the costume resolves itself into a writhing 
 mass of soft, streaky, ribbon-like brush-tracks, curled and 
 twirled about in, a wondrous seeming confusion, yet in reality 
 
Gainsborough. 
 Georgiana, Duchess of Dcvomlui e. 
 
His Landscapes. 
 
 held together by an unfaihng law. and directed with faultless 
 certainty to a definite effect. Stand at the intended distance, 
 and the whole unites into a perfect harmony. Zig-zag lines 
 resolve themselves into the semblance of stuffs, and render 
 the intended form, colour, and texture, as by a magical 
 power. Those parts of the canvas scarcely touched by 
 colour are not noticed. The frame becomes a window. 
 Through it you behold the lady at a chosen moment, amidst 
 chosen surroundings, in a chosen posture, and \ow behold 
 her, not with your own e\ es. but through the eyes of a man 
 trained and skilled to look aright. 
 
 VII. 
 
 We have thus passed in rapid review the stages of Ciains- 
 borough's development as jjortrait-painter. His landscaj^e 
 shall now be the subject of a briefer and more hesitating 
 sketch. It is our misfortune that the artist never signed or 
 dated an)' of his landscapes, and only one or two of his 
 portraits. Not only so, but the e.xhibition catalogues do not 
 helj) us, for though we know that (iainsborough exhibited 
 three on this occasion. fi\e on the other, and so forth, we 
 can seldom identif)' them, lie left no diar\' or note-book 
 to supply the defect of other chronological data. In fact, 
 he was an artist, pure and simi)le ; the creation of pictures 
 was fact enough for him. and all he asked of men was that 
 they should look at them and find i)leasure in them, not that 
 they should arrange them in chronological order. Times 
 
74 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 are changed now, and the historical spirit, for better or worse, 
 has got us in its grasp. Pictures, Hke all other things, must 
 take their places as links in the endless chain of develop- 
 ment, that holds us anchored over the unmeasured depths of 
 the ocean of the past. 
 
 Landscape had peculiar charm for Gainsborough from his 
 earliest years. It was his boyish instinct to wander forth into 
 the woods and fields of his native country to feast his eyes 
 upon the fair sights of nature. In school and out of school 
 his pencil was always at work, surreptitiously or otherwise. 
 He had no one to teach him except his mother, who is 
 known to have possessed some skill with her brush ; but he 
 went forward blindly under the compelling force of an innate 
 tendency. His boyish efforts are said to have shown no 
 particular merit. The promise lay not in any early per- 
 formance, but in the instinct that fixed the lad's energies in 
 one unvarying direction. Landscape-painting was not then 
 an English art. Its only recognised use was as background 
 for portrait, and even so it was employed but sparingly. 
 
 When Gainsborough was a student in London there was 
 nothing to attract him to cultivate landscape-painting. Por- 
 traiture was alone in demand. If amateurs wanted landscapes 
 they bought the works of the Low-Country painters of the pre- 
 ceding century. A few people wished to have pictures made 
 of their country-seats, but this kind of work was ill paid, and 
 a low level of art was all that such productions required, or 
 indeed gave scope for. Wilson, who was thirteen years older 
 than Gainsborough, starved all his life as a landscape-painter. 
 
Origin oj his Style. 
 
 75 
 
 An artist who wished to make landscape his subject had to 
 find some other means for his support. It is thus obvious 
 that Gainsborough could have had no teaching, worthy of 
 the name, in this branch of art. His early landscapes are 
 only rapid transcripts of impressions made upon him by 
 particular scenes. They have little charm of colour or light, 
 and are lacking in all idea of composition. The young artist 
 had no notion of making a unity out of the infinity that lay 
 before him. The story of the growth of that notion in his 
 mind is the history of his development as a landscape artist. 
 
 His masters in landscape-painting were the pictures of 
 his Dutch and Memish forerunners. These he saw and 
 sometimes copied in the houses of country gentlemen, to 
 which he had access after leaving London and settling as 
 portrait-painter in Suffolk. Sometimes we find him under 
 the inlluence of one man, sometimes of another. He imitated 
 Hobbema, Du jarclin, Ruysdael, Rubens, W'ynants, Caspar 
 Poussin, Claude, and Cuyp, one after another. His develop- 
 ment as a landscape-painter was much more irregular than 
 his devc;loi)ment as a painter of i)()rtrails. lie had no Hay- 
 man to hc:lp him la)' the foundations of a style of his own. 
 He had to grope a way for himself, and in his search he 
 went now in one direction, now in another. Most of his 
 early landscapes suggest the style of a known master. One 
 landscape (Grosv. No. 24), with a distant dome of rain-cloud 
 projected against a light blue sky, tells of the inlluence of 
 Du jardin ; whilst another (Grosv. No. 15), in which a road 
 passes !))• a clum[) of trees in the foreground, and then w inds 
 
76 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 away to a distance of low, undulating country, under a sky 
 decked with soft, rounded clouds, part sun-lit, part in shadow, 
 recalls Hobbema in the general brownness of its tones. In 
 this way we can often trace portions of the rising artist's path- 
 way of advance, but we have little or nothing to help us in 
 joining these portions together. We cannot tell which is first, 
 and which follows. One thing, however, is clear, that, as in 
 portraiture, so eventually also in landscape, what Gains- 
 borough learned from others ' he applied to the originals of 
 nature, which he saw with his own eyes ; and imitated, not in 
 the manner of other artists, but in his own.' 
 
 Stronger than any other influence upon him was the 
 influence of that Suffolk landscape in the midst of which his 
 boyhood's hours were passed. He looked at Nature, wher- 
 ever he was, through Suffolk- trained eyes. The gently- 
 rolling country, with its wide-backed fields, its lanes, its small 
 woods, its scattered trees along the hedge-rows ; the mounting 
 clouds piled up on high, and nursing storm within their 
 depths, such clouds as in the summer-time come majestically 
 down the valleys of Orwell and Stour, the sudden views of 
 well-farmed country, seen round a corner of trees at the turn 
 of a road — these and the like are subjects of unfailing charm 
 to him. He finds about Bath or Richmond, or wherever he may 
 be, sights that awaken the happy memories of his Suffolk days, 
 and those memories always infuse themselves into his work. 
 
 One quality Gainsborough's early landscapes possess in . 
 common with his portraits of the same period : they are 
 painted with care in a detailed fashion. There is no attempt 
 
Early Landscapes. 
 
 77 
 
 to catch ctTccts by lucky hits. Everythin<^ that is attained 
 is attained by labour and definite intention. He did not 
 choose a great variety of subjects at this time ; he contented 
 himself with simple scenes, and treated them in a simple 
 style. Some old lichen-covered tree-trunk lies or leans in the 
 foreground, with the sundight playing on the sharp edges of 
 its riven bark. Large-leaved docks flourish at its foot, and a 
 stretch of brown grass, brightl\- ilhuninated, carries the eye 
 back to a shadowed middU? distance. Perhaps there is a ford 
 with cattle crossing it in the foreground, or. ma\hap. brown 
 banks, caiJi)cd with dark green carpets of grass, shut in a 
 narrow lane, along which pack-horses tread their leisurely 
 way. Once, indeed, we have a landscape ( Grosv. No. 51) 
 whence the very mi;mory of animal lik: seems to be l)anished. 
 There is not a house in sight. Xo bird thutcrs in the air. n(^ 
 beast grazes or sleeps in the tield. A sk\ . wherein there are 
 at any rate some patches ot pure blue, looks down upon all 
 the prospects of this period. Massed scjuadrons of cumuli 
 usually march along the horizon, beating back the sunlight 
 from their bright crests and nurturing gloom in their bosoms. 
 In early attempts these clouds are sharply outlined and crisj)ly 
 modelled, but presently the)- become shrouded in a tender 
 mist, softening their edges and involving them and the distant 
 country in a common mystery. They are fair-weather clouds at 
 first, and suggest rather the memory than the prophecy of storm. 
 
 But. still in early \ears, this is changed, and Gains- 
 borough begins to paint \ isions seen under the last bright 
 rays of a sun about to be hidden. We must rejoice and 
 
78 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough, 
 
 take pleasure while we may. The nearest cottage will 
 soon be our refuge. * The night cometh when no man can 
 work,' and the rain under which none can delight. The 
 rolling cumulus climbs into the sky and nods its threatening 
 head. It marches no longer across the horizon, but comes 
 steadily over the wide meadows towards us. One landscape 
 (Grosv. No. 133) is an excellent example of this favourite 
 subject, the threatening storm-cloud. A man and a pair of 
 feeble horses are ploughing in the brown foreground ; behind 
 them a brown bank leans against a knoll, crowned with a 
 dark windmill. Farther back is a slowly-rising slope, draped 
 with fields, and over all a portentous, bulging cloud towers 
 brilliantly into the air, trailing a skirt of darkness behind it. 
 
 Gainsborough never found in a windmill the many moods 
 that his fellow-countyman, John Constable, discovered in it. 
 He could not altogether overlook the patient creature; but 
 when it appears in his pictures, it usually stands sentinel on 
 the brow of some distant eminence. It does so, for instance, 
 in a charming landscape (Grosv. No. 157) prophetic of 
 Linnell, w^here a farm-house looks forth amongst trees from 
 beyond a river at the foot of a church-crowned hill. All 
 this, however, is but subordinate to the inevitable trunk in 
 the foreground, with peasants and cows at its foot. A mere 
 glance at any collection of Gainsborough's early landscapes 
 shows the charm which the trunk of a full-grown tree 
 possessed for him. He painted some pictures for the sake 
 of a monumental stem planted in the foreground, and once 
 (Grosv. No. 18). that was the only part he finished; for when 
 
Carefulness in Detail. 
 
 79 
 
 he had pla\ cd with its rust)- tbrnis, and Hnoercd affectionately 
 over every detail of its scarred surface, he laid the canvas 
 aside, having no interest to spare for the remainder. In this 
 picture, and in another (Grosv. Xo. 202) of similar type — 
 careless gipsies gathered about a fire for their evening meal, 
 and an ass, patient and picturesque, are the well-chosen com- 
 panions of the old dryad of the forest. The group clusters 
 on the brow of a hill, whence the eye wanders across in- 
 distinct, cultivated country, bathed in twilight, to tlu- cloud- 
 fretting beams of the setting sun. 
 
 All these pictures give more or less evidence of minute 
 study of the details of nature. Trees seem to be painted 
 leaf by leaf IMaiUs in the foreground are rendered with 
 studious insight into individual form. Xothing is ignorantly 
 or unintentionalK- omitted. Nothing is wilfulK' slurred o\ er. 
 One of the most ambitious and important landscapes of this 
 period (Old Masters, 1885, No. 71) renders a \ icw from 
 the outskirts of a wood looking towards a gciuK" ripj)ling 
 countr)' of held and firmstead. Scattered (uitposts of big 
 trees arise on either hand, low underwood lurks in the 
 shadow beneath, and an undisciplined jjath wanders down 
 towards the meadows. There the sunlight lies abroad on 
 grass and hedgerow, roof antl village tower. All beyond is 
 neat and trini in contrast to the pathetic negligence of the 
 brokcMi foreground, whose onl\' inhabitant, a footsore way- 
 farer, sits pitying his wcar\ limbs. Ever)' part of this 
 picture is painted with great detail. The fields and buildings 
 of the distance are little less luinuteK- wrought than the 
 
,8o 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 foliage of the foreground. The very blades of grass in front 
 seem to be individually painted. Nevertheless, this picture, 
 in common with most of its fellows of the same period, 
 labours under one defect — it lacks the highest kind of 
 unity. The artist has not impressed a scene upon his mind 
 as a whole, before setting to work to realise it upon his 
 canvas. He has transcribed instead of creating. He has 
 taken his details one by one from nature, and one by one 
 fitted them together. He has caught a series of scattered 
 suggestions instead of a single rounded idea. Full daylight 
 may, for example, be strewn over the foreground whilst a 
 sunset is lingering on the distant horizon ; or the sky may 
 be suggestive of wind, and the foliage of repose. The land- 
 scape is not the expression of a single conception. It is 
 interesting to watch the endeavours of the painter to remedy 
 this defect. In a small and relatively early picture (Grosv. 
 No. 73), the attempt has been made to bring the sunset 
 into the foreground as well as into the distance ; but it has 
 not succeeded. A little view (Grosv. No. 106) of an old 
 stone bridge crossed by a caravan of pack-horses is far better. 
 Here wind is the unifying factor. The beasts plod patiently 
 alone with their heads down ; the riders submit to discom- 
 fort, resistance being useless. Clouds hurry across the sky ; 
 the trees bend to the blast ; and a few spare leaves shiver 
 on an old trunk in the foreground. The whole is painted in 
 a freer fashion than before. Details are suggested rather than 
 depicted. Nevertheless, the work is really finer. Unity — 
 the essence of landscape art — is attained. 
 
Light in the Air. 
 
 8i 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The pictures wc have now to consider were painted during 
 the latter half of Gainsborough's period of residence at Hath. 
 He felt himself upon firmer ground than before. His aims 
 were becoming more precise. His work, therefore, was 
 done with less hesitation. The end being clearly in view, 
 the steps to be taken to reach it were likewise more clearly 
 perceived. Thus he painted in a bolder style, and naturall)' 
 also on a larger scale. A woodland glade (Grosw No. 124) 
 may be taken as example ot th(! work ol the transition 
 period. The foreground is occupied by some rather idealised 
 peasants, with their cows, goats, and sheep resting by the 
 way. Behind them is a row of trees. There is a glimpse 
 of wider country be\ ()nd, with a church tower peering forth 
 in the midst. The foliage is of a rather tuft\- or feathery 
 character- -a kind wliich in ( iaiiisborough's later work be- 
 comes unpleasantly common. lUit we liave sek.'Cted this 
 picture for special notice because of the sk)', which wears a 
 hazy blue tint, except where the sunlight whitens the clouds. 
 The; light does not mereh' rest upon them ; it pours ever\ - 
 where like a ilood and mellows all objects. It is an un- 
 natural seeming light, reminiscent of sunsets on can\ as rather 
 than in the heavens. It is not (iiu'nsborough's spontaneous 
 idea. It did not arise from contenii^lation of an actual scene, 
 but from study of Gaspar Poussin's pictures or Claude's. 
 Gainsborough is. for once, a confessed imitator. His 
 idealised peasants are open admission of the tact ; and. to 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 Thojiias GainsboroiigJi. 
 
 make the state of things more evident, there are a pair of 
 fighting dogs right in front, borrowed unblushingly from 
 Snyders. 
 
 The ' Harvest Waggon' (Grosv. No. 33) is a finer and 
 more independent work. Here Gainsborough shows himself 
 a free man, able to regard things from a wider-reaching point 
 of view entirely his own. He planned the picture with care, 
 as his preliminary sketch (Grosv. No. [74) sufficiently proves. 
 The composition is simple. There is a wood on one side, and 
 the other a pond, with a few trees beyond it. A road passes 
 on between the wood and the pond ; and the waggon, drawn 
 by a picturesque team of horses, halts for a moment in the 
 middle of the view to allow one of Gainsborough's daughters, 
 disguised as a peasant maiden, to climb in and join her sister 
 and friends. There is a vista of flat country in the distance, 
 and the sky is full of piled masses* of sunlit cloud. The 
 whole is, as it were, flung down in living unity. The delicate 
 grace of natural forms is sacrificed to a strong general effect. 
 Thus the sombre appearance of a mass of shadowed foliage 
 is obtained, though not the lightness of rustling leaves. 
 The glossy surface of water is there, but we miss its subtle 
 transparencies and mystery of ripple-crossed reflexions. The 
 lean and bony horses are of a raggedly picturesque character, 
 harmonising with the spirit of the whole work ; but they are 
 only sketched in w^ith a few pregnant strokes. It is in 
 Gainsborough's equestrian portraits alone that he seems to 
 have cared about painting a finely bred horse for the sake 
 of its grace of form and glossmess of coat. Little choice, 
 
The Harvest I Vaggon. 
 
 83 
 
 indeed, was there left him in the m itter. When, as in his 
 landscapes, he could do what he pleased, he chose ragged 
 and picturesque animals, old and tired, or at any rate bony 
 and uncouth. The leader of the team in the ' Harvest 
 Waggon' was presented to Gainsborough b\' Wiltshire, the 
 Bath carrier, who used to con\ey the artist's pictures to 
 London free of charge, for admiration's sake. The beast 
 is anxious to go on towards home, so the carter at his head 
 has just startled him back b\' a rap on the nose, and the 
 painter has caught him on the instant in this sudden attitude, 
 with his head thrown uj) and his mane jerked loose in the 
 air. The whole is similarly the result of a single imi)ression, 
 and each part is fmished far enough to suggest that impression 
 and no more. Gainsborough gave this picture to Wiltshire, 
 and in giving it he stated that it jjleased him * more than an\' 
 he had ever executed.' We can well belicw: this to have 
 been so, for the moch* ol conception and style: of execution 
 seen in the ' llar\c'st Waggon' were adhered to 1)\' the artist 
 with increasing success during the remainder ot his life as a 
 landscape-painter. 
 
 Henceforward we ha\ e but to mark the stages of a con- 
 tinuous adv^ance. The landscape painted at Shockerwick 
 (Grosv. No. 54) is a notable: work, telling of the continuetl 
 influence of Claude and Gaspar Poussin. The beholder 
 looks down a little \-.iHey shut in by rocks and trees on 
 either hand. stream, arrested u[)on a rocky step, iorms 
 
 a pool in the foreground ; and there three cows are halting 
 on their homeward wa\ whilst the milkmaid receives the 
 
84 
 
 Thomas Gamsborough, 
 
 attentions of her lover under the shadow of a neighbouring 
 rock. The valley trends westward, and grants a view over 
 wide country and away to the golden sky. The sunset-light 
 penetrates everywhere, and gives a character to everything. 
 It touches the trees and gilds the backs of the kine ; it warms 
 the clouds ; it comes up from the pool ; it permeates the 
 atmosphere. The foliage is painted in Gainsborough's best 
 mood. It is variegated in texture and colour, besides being 
 light and transparent. Everything is swiftly and skilfully 
 suggested. Doubtless, if the unity of the conception had 
 been maintained, and, at the same time, details had been 
 rendered with more loving care, the picture would have been 
 a finer work. But the essential thing in landscape-art is 
 there. The picture is not a transcript of a locality ; it is the 
 suggestion of the impression made upon an impressionable 
 person by the sight of a beautiful view seen under favourable 
 circumstances of weather, light, and colour. Equally sug- 
 gestive, but no more complete, is the view in Shropshire 
 (Grosv. No. 129). We are again made to look along a 
 westward-trending valley towards a golden nebula of light 
 condensed in a clear evening sky. Trees reach themselves 
 across the sunset, and a brook flows forward under a rock, 
 and then bends round and passes out of sight. 
 
 Clearly, Gainsborough's sympathies were only evoked by 
 a limited range of landscape subjects. It is needless to look 
 to him for the wild and weird aspects of nature. He is the 
 painter of pastoral scenes, beheld usually under one of two 
 aspects. Either the sky is full of clouds, threatening rain, 
 
Sunsets. 
 
 85 
 
 and the wind is blowing, or about to blow, or else the air 
 is full of peace and the setting sun casts its slanting rays 
 across tilth, meadow, and woodland. The landscape in 
 Herefordshire (Grosv. No. 68) is scarcely an exception to 
 this rule. It is, indeed, entitled 'Going to Market;' but the 
 peasants with their horses laden with \ egetables seem rather 
 to be returning from their labours in the fields than starting 
 out for a day's business. The sky. moreover, is full of a 
 soft light, which might be the light of dawn, were it not that 
 the horses do not step with the freshness of morning, but 
 plod along as though weary after a day's hard work. Once 
 again rich foliaged trees, hastily sketched in, project them- 
 selves against the sky, the artist finding in their donied to})s 
 something of the quality which rendered piled masses of cloud 
 so pleasant in his eyes. The picture is thinK' |)ainted, and 
 seems little more; than a sketch. It was done at Shobdon 
 Court whilst Ciainsborough was on a \ isit to Lord Hateman. 
 
 \\\; must mention yet one more \ iew of an open glade 
 (Grosv. No. 193) in which sunset plays the princii)al i)art. 
 We look along a downhill road that winds westward to lower, 
 undulating country. Trees cast the foreground into a rich 
 brown shadow, contrasting finely with the golde n light upon 
 the distant hills, and beaten l)ack from the church-tower in 
 the hollow. .Ml the living figures tell of the da\ 's work 
 ended. A man bears his faggot homeward on his back, 
 whilst another rides his tired horses to their stable. All 
 these picturc;s express a somewhat plaintive, melancholic 
 attitude of mind, and are not what we should have looked 
 
86 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 for from Gainsborough. The merry brook sparkling on its 
 way, the grassy bank with its offering of spring flowers, the 
 harvest-field and its golden treasure — these, and the like, 
 are the subjects we should suppose would have attracted the 
 laughter-loving heart of Gainsborough. But it was not so. 
 Just as he became pathetic, and almost sad, in the presence 
 of innocent childhood, so the pure face of nature likewise 
 affected him. He was merry in the company of men — a 
 rollicking boon companion — but alone he had serious moods. 
 There was a depth of real solemnity in him. Had it not 
 been so he would never have been the workman he was. 
 The tenacity of purpose with which he adhered to his art 
 and worked out its problems shows the stuff there was in 
 him. In the last days of his life he confessed to Reynolds 
 * that his regret at losing life was principally the regret of 
 leaving his art, and more especially as he now began to 
 see what his deficiencies w^ere, w^hich he said he fiattered 
 himself, in his last works, were in some measure supplied.' 
 He was one of a light and thoughtless society, and in its 
 company he was as light and as thoughtless as any. But 
 there were deep places in his heart, and a sight of nature 
 availed to sound them. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Every now and again he painted in a gayer mood, as, for 
 instance, in the ' Landscape, with figures at a pond ' (Grosv. 
 No. 136). The water is not really a pond, but a bay of a deep- 
 
71ie Cottage Door. 
 
 87 
 
 lyini^ stream, shut in between high mud-banks and overlooked 
 by trees of different kinds. Their foHage is better distinguished 
 than usual, and it is possible to tell what kind of trees they 
 are. Broad daylight fills the air and crisps the bark of an old 
 pollard willow. A lad rides his i)on)' to drink at the water 
 and talks the while with a maiden seated on the bank. Plants 
 in the foreground are painted with something of the early 
 minuteness, dock-leaves (Gainsborough's old fa\ ourites) being 
 particularly well drawn. Beyond the dark bank on the far 
 side is a view of a held, strij)ed with sunlight and dotted with 
 sheep; and there are scattered trees bcNond, antl «i blue hill 
 above. The crisp touches of light which .ippear everywhere 
 give a character to the whole and are suggestive of the 
 handling of Constable. 
 
 Another picture of similar kind is the earliest edition 
 of the 'Cottage Door' (Grosv. Xo. 45). It is blotted 
 in in bright colours, with speedy skill. The chosen time 
 is the evening of an autunui day. and so the trees are 
 golden and flooded with golden light ; but the .ispect of the 
 Avhole is gay as well as serene, and the cottage folk, dressed 
 in pictures(iuely patched garments, are happily chatting 
 together before their door. The elements of the scene are 
 few and simi)le. 'Hiert; is a gnarhid. leafless trunk on the 
 right and a cottage behintl it, overshadowed b\- and half buried 
 in foliage. A stream, crossed by a rustic bridge, flows 
 babbling roimd it. and a |)ollard willow leans over the waters 
 from the other bank. There is a tall tree on the left of 
 the foreground, leaning archwise towards the bare trunk on 
 
88 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 the right ; and there is a vista of sky and distant trees seen 
 across the stream. A very much earHer picture (Grosv. 
 No. 208) contains some of these elements, a road and pond 
 taking the place of the winding brook. The idea, therefore, 
 was one long resident in Gainsborough's mind. In the last 
 years of his life he returned to it again and again with increasing 
 delight, and on a canvas, now the property of the Duke of 
 Westminster (Grosv. No. 98), he painted the best realisation 
 of it. Here the elements are more closely fitted together, and 
 the work is of a more decided and emphatic character. The 
 sun has gone further down and the evening is more advanced. 
 A lingering brightness touches the horizon. Higher up 
 the clouds are dark and misty. The only objects brightly 
 illuminated in the foreground are the cottage-front and the 
 group of cottagers, a mother and her six children receiving 
 their evening meal. The nodding masses of foliage are 
 painted with a larger and heavier touch. The water flows 
 swifter and in greater volume, with less of rippling and more 
 of racing. The whole is painted with a greater fling, dashed 
 into unity with a stronger hand. The scheme of light and 
 shade is almost Rembrandtesque. 
 
 In this picture, then, we may be said to possess the epitome 
 of Gainsborough's landscape. A glance at a collection of his 
 drawings and etchings, such as that preserved in the Print 
 Room of the British Museum, shows the compass of subjects 
 that interested him. Nine out of ten of his sketches are 
 taken from little bits of rural scenery, in which foliation is the 
 picturesque element ; cottages or churches buried amongst 
 
Elements of /lis Lajidseape. 
 
 89 
 
 trees, mounds or rough grass slopes surmounted by trees, 
 banks overhung with trees. Almost always an old trunk lies 
 or totters to its fall in the foreground. Whatever other 
 objects are introduced are of a ' picturesque ' character— old 
 stone bridges, perhaps, or bony beasts, tattered gipsies, cracked 
 cottages, or crazy walls. We scarcely ever find a view in 
 which well-farmed country takes an important or even a minor 
 part. Fertile meadows, too, are rare. Gainsborough preferred 
 rough and broken country. He liked an open clearing in the 
 midst of a wood, with a rough country road leading across it, 
 and a pond lurking in the shadow at one side. He liked 
 sandy commons and gravelly banks — anything, in fact, that 
 was broken, imeven, or unkemj)t. He liked subjects the tone 
 of which was in harmon\ with his own ragged technique. 
 The ' Cottage Door ' was exactly such a subject - tlu! rough 
 plank bridge, the well-worn cottage, the hurr\ ing water, the 
 broken ground in the wood behind, the: oltl tree-trunk in Iront, 
 the masses of foliage predominating o\ er all, and the evening 
 light infusing mellowness and myster\- into everything ; all 
 this suited (iainsborough to [jerfection, and enabled him to 
 call into play the accumulated results of a lifetime of specialised 
 stud)'. 
 
 X. 
 
 CiAiNSHokorcii's range of landscape did not embrace the 
 sea, but an artist dwelling, as he did, by the banks of 
 the Orwell, could not overlook the river and the estuary. 
 
90 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 Walpole, speaking of the Academy Exhibition of 1781, says, 
 ' Gainsborough has two pieces with land and sea, so free and 
 natural that one steps back for fear of being splashed.' 
 Perhaps the picture thus referred to is the Duke of West- 
 minster's 'Coast Scene' (Grosv. No. 152). The foreground 
 is a little cove beneath a cliff. On the windy beach two 
 women are bargaining with a ragged fish-seller over the 
 contents of his basket. The waves break crisply on the shore 
 just behind them, and fishing-boats, leaning over to the wind, 
 give to the distance the same aspect of life and movement 
 with which the frolicsome foam and fluttering garments of the 
 women animate the foreground. Round white clouds race 
 across the blue sky, and a shepherd on the cliff-top shelters 
 himself from the breeze. It is a sparkling picture, articulately 
 suggestive of a single, delightful idea.* The general balance 
 of light and mass in the composition of it was as much to 
 Gainsborough's liking as that of the ' Cottage Door.' Probably 
 it also was not arrived at without preliminary stages. The 
 ' River Landscape' (Grosv. No. 137) shows the development 
 of the idea in the artist's mind. It seems a little earlier than 
 the ' Coast Scene,' and is therefore not quite so simple and 
 direct. We have the same little bay in the foreground, with 
 the same boat and its anchor lying stranded on the shore. 
 In place of the cliff there is a castle rising out of trees upon a 
 mound, whilst the fish-seller and his customers are supplanted 
 by two men drawing in a net, to the intense delight of their 
 excited dog. The water seems smooth in the distance, but it 
 * One of norland's best landscapes is imitated from the 'Coast Scene.' 
 
River Scenes. 9 1 
 
 bears alon^^ a low, swcllini^r ripple which crests itself and 
 breaks into a merry foam about the legs of the wading 
 fishermen. 
 
 Neither of the foregoing are pictures of sea-views. Water 
 
 I 1.1 I Ni . 1 I 
 
 and shore in them alike tell of an estuary. The thundering 
 storm-wave of the ocean no more belonged to (lainsborough 
 than did the other grand and terrible sights of nature. There 
 was little place for awe in his simple heart. Yet another 
 landscape, different in composition but the sam(^ in spirit, 
 
92 
 
 Thomas GainsboroMgh. 
 
 remains to be mentioned. It is the ' Mouth of the Thames' 
 (Grosv. No. 1 78). Once, again, we stand on a brown fore- 
 ground, near some boats drawn up on the bank, and once 
 again we have watermen and boys for our companions. The 
 estuary opens before us and the farther low-lying bank recedes 
 rapidly from view, humping itself into a gentle mound for 
 distant emphasis. Plshing-boats are moving briskly about on 
 the ruffled waters, some close at hand, others white on the 
 horizon. A rounded mass of cumulus traverses the sky, 
 parted per pale, sunlight and shade. These three pictures 
 belong to the last years of Gainsborough's life, but in spirit 
 they are one with the view of ' Landguard Fort,' which he 
 painted for Thicknesse in his Ipswich days. The Fort stands 
 on the end of a tongue of broken land with the reaches of the 
 river all around it. Gainsborough himself is seated on an old 
 tree-trunk in front, and there is a cart slowly descending 
 along a rough road close at hand. In fact, the foreground is 
 composed of the usual elements, and the river is, as usual, 
 enlivened by a strong breeze which likewise hurries the clouds 
 across the sky. Not that Gainsborough never painted calm 
 water ; he did so occasionally, as we shall immediately see ; 
 but in water, as in all other natural objects, he loved best the 
 aspect of movement. 
 
 Perhaps he had just been attracted by a picture of Cuyp's 
 when he sat down to paint the ' River Scene w^ith Cattle ' 
 (Grosv. No. 180); at all events, the Cuyp influence is un- 
 mistakable. Again we are standing by the bank of a wide 
 extending river. But it is evening ; the breezes have gone 
 
Cattle and Dogs. 
 
 93 
 
 to sleep, and the very clouds roll idly upon the dim horizon. 
 The atmosphere is full of a mist so faint and tender that 
 though it softens every object it is little less transparent 
 than the clearest air. Some saiHnLr boats lie near the shore 
 with their sails flopping to and fro. Apparently the boatmen 
 are taking market produce on board and two or three little 
 row-boats are employed to help them. Inquisitive kine have 
 collected about a jutting" point of grass to survey the progress 
 of affairs. They stand or lie picturesquely in front of the 
 warm sunsc^t. There is just enough of animation about the 
 boatmen, just enough of movement about the row-boats, 
 to irive an undertone of Hveliness to the scene. Evervone 
 is fiui('tl\- active, and the world's work is going forward 
 even in this serene corner of land and water. 
 
 Much of the pleasant effect of the view arises from the 
 pictures(iue manner in which th(,' cattle are introduced. 
 They are not there for tlieir own sakes ; they arc! elements 
 of decoration, even as the plants by the hedgerow. Gains- 
 borough often emi)loyed animals in that wa)-. He sometimes 
 ])ainted dogs for their own sakes, and showed unusual skill 
 in manifesting their individual characters, as, for instance, in 
 a spirited little drawing of Tristram and b'ox ; but horses, 
 cattle, sheep, goats, and donkexs, when the\- fmd their way 
 into his pictures, do so in th(! character of picturesque 
 elements. TLven the fme chargers in the portraits of St. 
 Lender and the Prince of Wales are little else than back- 
 ^rrounds to their owners ; how much more then the bonv 
 Rosinantes of the highroad ! 
 
94 
 
 Thomas Gainsborough. 
 
 Animals frequently appear in Gainsborough's drawings, 
 and the majority of his soft -line etchings of landscape 
 scenes contain them in more or less prominent positions. 
 One is devoted to a pathetically ragged group of donkeys, 
 another shows a caravan of pack-horses going along a 
 farm road. Cattle drinking at a pond, cattle crossing a 
 bridge, these and the like subjects are common, but in 
 none of them does the artist look at animals for their 
 own sakes ; he does not concern himself with their habits, 
 or make them his intimate friends. One of his best land- 
 scapes with cattle (Grosv. No. 77) may be taken as typical 
 of the rest. It is a windy day, and so the beasts are lying 
 on the ground grouped together under the lea of some low 
 trees, prominent amongst w^hich is the usual leafless trunk. 
 The country is so nearly flat that the cattle hide all the 
 distance from the beholder, and thus they become the sub- 
 ject of the picture. The painter's delight has been, not in 
 the contemplation and rendering of the cow nature, but in 
 the rich colouring of their expansive backs. He has brought 
 them too-ether, and made of them a fine surface decora- 
 tion for the bleak field, their warm coats and comfort- 
 able forms contrasting pleasantly with the coldness of the 
 surroundings. 
 
 All Gainsborough's animals (excepting once again the dog, 
 for whom he had a natural fellow feeling) possess the quality 
 of patience, which is indispensable to decorative objects. 
 They have to be, and are, as patient as Caryatides. Horses 
 plod along without so much as a rebellious whisk of thefr 
 
His Limitations, 
 
 95 
 
 tails ; cows sit or lie like monuments ; donkeys have a look of 
 even more than their proverbial endurance. Thus the artist 
 shows his limitations. He selected from the visible world 
 about him those objects and (jualities which suited the re- 
 quirements of his particular kind of art. He never went out 
 of his way for anything new or startling. He was not, like 
 Turner, on the watch f(jr the manifestations of Nature's 
 power. He did not look tor storm and lightning, avalanche, 
 fire, or tlood. He did not ask for kM'ty mountains, and 
 seldom even went so far as a waterfall. The scenes that he 
 loved were the scenes of his own C(juntry-side, and he chose 
 but a single group of them. In landscape, as in portraiture, 
 he kept himself well in hand. He was not ambitious of wide 
 |)Ower. and cared not that men should call him versatile. He 
 wanted to get the best out of himself in the wa\ that he felt 
 he could work mosi naturalK . I'luis his st\"Ie ot expression 
 and his mode of conception wen- always closel\' linked to- 
 gether. His hand ga\e the best form to the best thoughts 
 of his heart. He was not an artist of great breadth and 
 powttr. but within his own limits he was remarkal)l\- suc- 
 cessful ; so that it ma\' wc-ii be (juestioned whether any 
 artist has e\'er come nearer than Ciainsborough to the attain- 
 ment of his ow n ideal. 
 
 LONliON : 
 
 J'rjiteil Ijy Si i;an(.f.\\ an s and Son>, lower Street, Ufp^r .^t. .Martini I.ani.v W.C. 
 
9 
 
— 
 
 GETTY CENTER LIBRARY 
 
 3 3125 00806 3741